University of Virginia Library

The Argument.

Distracted in the agony of Love
Pharonnida, whose sad complaints did prove
Her sorrows true Interpreters, had made
Argalia's name, wrapt up in sighs invade
The ears of an unseen Informer, whence
Almanzor's thoughts, deliver'd from suspence,
Shake off their doubtfull dress of fears, and teach
Hypocrisie by paths untrod to reach
The Apex of his hopes. What not the fear
Of ills, whilst her own interest did appear
The onely sharer, could perform, he now
Presumes affection to her Friend would bow
With low submission, if by that she might
Aid his dim Stars with a reserve of light.

With frequent visits, which on sins dark Text
Wrought a fair gloss, Almanzor oft had vext
The calmer passions of the Princess in
To rufled anger; but when all could win
No entrance on her favor, fury tries
A harsher corrosive, stern power denies
Her even of those poor narrow comforts which
Her souls dark region, that was onely rich
In sorrows sables, could possess. Withdrew
Were all those slippery Parasites that knew
To her no pity, but what did reflect
The rayes o'th Tyrants favor, whose neglect
Taught them the Lesson of disdain, whilst she
Her practic'd soul trained in humility.

Pensive as an unpractic'd Convert in
A Bath of tears, she shadow'd lies within
The unfrequented room, a curtain bed
Her close retreat, till Lights fair Angel fled
The swarthy Region. But whilst here she lies
Like a dark lanthorn that in black disguise
Circles imprisoned Light ---
Grief from the sullen world conceal'd to turn
The troubled stream, as if the silent urn
Of some dead friend to private sorrow had
Summon'd her thither, enter'd was a sad
And sober Matron, in her hands she bore
A light whose feeble rayes could scarce restore
The sick successor of the day unto
A cheerfull smile. Sad Pilgrims that renew
Acquaintance with their better Angels by
Harsh penitence, have of humility
Less in their looks then she, her habit shew'd
Like costly ruins that for fashion ow'd
To elder pride, in whose reversion she
Appear'd the noble choice of charitie.

This shadow of religious vertue drawn
Near her disordered bed, a sickly dawn
Of light breaks through the Princess clouded eyes
To meet the welcom object, the disguise
Of sorrow, which at first appearance sate
Fixt on her brow, a partner of her fate
Making her seem; nor was the fancy crush'd
I'th infancy of faith, fair truth first blush'd
For verbal crimes, near to the bed reposed
Where the sad Lady lay, she thus disclosed
Her cause of entrance. Cease (fair stranger) to
Monopolize a sorrow which, not you
Here share alone; pitty instructed by
Experience in the rules of misery
Hath brought me from complaining of my own
To comfort thine; this Castle once hath known
Me for its Mistriss, though it now behold
Me (in the dress of poverty grown old)
Despis'd and poor, the scorn of those that were
Nurs'd into life by my indulgent care.

This in her tears o'erflowing language spoke
Perswades the pensive Princess to revoke
Deprav'd opinions doom, confessing she
Wedded not grief to singularitie.
But comfort in the julip of her words
Was scarce dissolv'd, e're a reply affords
Conceiv'd requital, striving to prevent
The (oft more forward) thanks. Rise to content,
Fair soul, she cries, be but so wise to let
Sick passion die with just neglect, I'll set
Thy dropt Stars in their orbs again; I have
(Forc'd by command) a late attendance gave
Unto a wounded stranger that remains
Within this Castle in the heavy chains
Of cruel bondage, from whose weight unless
Your Love redeem him, dark forgetfulness
Will draw the curtains of the grave about
His dull mortality, and the sick doubt
Of hope resolve in death, this evening I
Ore heard his heavy doom, from which to fly
He hath no refuge but your mercy, which
Strip'd of light passion, must be cloth'd in rich
But graver robes of reason, when it sits
In counsel how to reconcile the fits
Of feverish love, when being most propense
To passions heat, a frost of abstinence
Benums it to a Lethargy. In brief,
'Tis he whose prosperous tyranny the chief
Command within this castle gave, that in
His swift destruction doth attempt to win
Free passage to enjoying you, then prove
He friend to him that begs you to change love
For now more usefull pity, and so save
A life that must no longer live to crave,
If now deny'd. This Ring (with that presents
A jewel, that when loves first elements
The harmony of faith united, she
Gave to confirm her vows) he sends to be
A note that he denies what e'er was made
Authentick, when your mixt vows did invade
Unwilling Heaven, which in your sufferance shews
We may intend, but wiser powers dispose.

Pharonnida, whose fears confirm'd did need
No more to wound a fancy that did bleed
At all the springs of passion, being by
The fatal Present taught whose liberty
Her Loves exchange must purchase, with a sad
Reverse o'th eye beholding it, unclad
Her sorrow thus: And did, oh did this come
By thy commands, Argalia! no, by some
Unworthy hand thou'rt rob'd of it, I know
Thou sooner wouldst be tempted to let go
Reliques of thy protecting Saint: Oh, cease
What e'er you are, to wrong him, the calm peace
He wears t' encounter death in, cannot be
Scatter'd by any storm of fear: would he
That hath affronted death in every shape
Of horror, tamely yield unto the rape
Of's Virgin honor, and not stand the shock
Of a base Tyrants anger; but I mock
My hopes with vain fantasms, 'tis the love
He bears to me carries his fear above
The orb of his own noble temper, to
An unknown world of passions, in whose new
Regions ambitious grown, it scorns to fall
Back to its Center, Reason, whither all
The lines of action until now did bend
From's souls circumference; yet know his end
If doom'd unto this cursed place, shall tell
The bloody Tyrant that my passing bell
Tolls in his dying groans, and will e're long
Ring out in death, if sorrow when grown strong
As fate, can raise the strokes of grief above
The strength of nature; which if not, yet love
Will finde a passage where our souls shall rest
In an eternal union, whilst opprest
With horror he, by whose command he dies,
Falls to th' infernal pow'rs a Sacrifice.

If that your pitty were no ficton, to
Betray my feeble passions, and undo
The knots of resolution, tell my Friend,
I live but to die his, and will attend
Him with my pray'rs (those verbal angels) till
His soul's on th' wing, then follow him, and fill
Those blanks our Fate left in the lines of life
Up with eternal bliss, where no harsh strife
Of a dissenting Parent shall destroy
The blooming springs of our conjugal joy.

Vext by this brave display of fortitude
To sullen anger, with a haste more rude
Then bold intrusions, lusts slie advocate,
Forsakes her seat, and though affronts too late
Came to create a blush, yet passion had
Her cheeks in red revenges livery clad;
Her eyes like Saturn's in the house of death,
Heavy with ills to come, her tainted breath
Scatt'ring infectious murmurs, with a look
Oblique and deadly, the curs'd Hag forsook
That ebbon cabinet of grief, and hastes
To tell Almanzor how his passion wastes
More spirits in perswasions hectique, then
If power had quench'd ambitions fever when
'Twas first inflam'd with hope, whose cordials prove
Oft slow as opiates in the heat of love.

This, with a heat that spoild digestion, by
The angry Tyrant heard, rage did unty
The curles of passion, whose soft trammels had
Crisp'd smooth hypocrisie, from which unclad
Disvellop'd nature shews her unfil'd dress
Rough as an angry friend, by no distress
Of beauty to be calm'd, since slie deceit
Vertue had now unmask'd, no candid bait
Conceals his thoughts, which soon in publick shews
From what black Sea those mists of passion rose.

Dayes sepulchre, the ebbon arched night
Was rais'd above the battlements of light;
The frenzy'd worlds allaying opiate, sleep,
Oretaking action, did in silence steep
The various fruits of labor, and from thence
Recovers what pays for her times expence.
In which slow calm, whilst half the drowsie earth
Lay in the shade of nature, to give birth
Unto the burthen of sick fancy, fear,
Groans, deep as deaths alarms, through her ear
Fly toward the throne of Reason, to inform
The pensive Princess, that the last great storm
Of fate was now descending, beyond which
Her eyes (orewhelm'd in sorrow) must inrich
Their orbs with love no more; but in the dawn
Of Life behold her Friends destruction drawn,
Since threatn'd danger sad assurance gives
In those deep groans he now but dying lives.

More swiftly to destroy the falling leaves
Of blasted hope, with horror she receives
By a convey of wearied light, that stroke
Through rusty grates, intelligence which shoke
The strength of fortitude, there was a room
Deep and obscure, where in a heavy gloom
The unstirr'd air in such a darkness dwelt
As mask'd Egyptians from Heavens vengeance felt,
Till by the strugling rayes of a faint lamp
Forc'd to retreat, and the quicksilver damp
Shed on the sweaty walls, which hid within
That glitt'ring vail, worn figures that had been
The hieroglyphick epitaphs of those
Which charity did to the earth dispose
In friendships last of Legacies, except
What is to cure loose fames diseases kept.

Here 'mongst the ruines of mortality,
In blood difigur'd, she beholds one lie
Who though disguis'd in death's approach, appears
By's habit (that confirmer of her fears)
Her gentle Love, alone, and helpless in
The grasp of death, striving in vain to win
The field from that grim Tyrant, who had now
Embalm'd him in his blood, and did allow
Him no more spirits, but what in that strife
Serv'd to groan out the Epilogue of life
And then depart natures cold stage, to be
Suck'd up from time into eternitie.

When thus the everlasting silence had
Lock'd up his voice, and death's rude hand unclad
His hovering soul, whose elemental dress
Is left to dust and dark forgetfulness
When natures lamps being snuft to death, he lay
A night-piec'd draught of once well-modell'd clay
With such a silent pace as witches use
To tread ore graves when their black arts abuse
Their cold inhabitants, his murtherers were
Entred the vault, from the stain'd floor to bear
The cold stiff coarse, which having softly laid
In's doom-days bed, unto the royal Maid,
Whose beauty in this agony defac'd
Griefs emblem sate, with eager speed they haste.

Either a guilty shame, or fear to be
Converted by her forms divinity,
Made them chuse darkness for protection, in
Whose hideous shade, she of her self unseen
Is hurried thence unto that dreadfull place
Where he intomb'd lay, whom she must imbrace
In death's dark lodgings, and e'er life was fled
Remain a sad Companion of the dead,
Confining beauty in youth's glorious bloom
To the black prison of a dismal tomb,
Where fast inclos'd, Earth's fairest blossom must
Unnaturally be planted in the dust,
Where life's bright Star, Heav'ns glorious influence,
Her soul in labor with the slow suspence
Of lingring torments must expecting lie
Till famine Natures ligatures untie.

And can, oh, can we ever hope to save
Her that's in life a Tenant to the Grave!
Can ought redeem one that already lies
Within the Bed of Death, whose hot lust fries
In the enjoyment of all beauties that
The aged World e'er had to wonder at;
To feed whose riot, the well temper'd blood,
That sanguine youth's smooth cheek, mixt with a flood
Of harsh distemperatures, o'erflows and brings
Some to their lodgings on the flaming wings
Of speedy feavers, whilst the others creep
On slow consumptions, millions from the steep
And dangerous precipice of war: Some in
A stream of their own humors that have bin
Swell'd to a dropsie, being even prest to death
By their own weight, whilst others part with breath
From bodies worn so thin, they seem'd to be
Grown near the souls invisibilitie.

But whither strayes our fancy? have we left
The wofull Lady in a tomb bereft
Of all society, and shall I let
My wandring pen forsake her? such a debt
Would banckrupt pity. Th' undistinguish'd day
Whose new-born light did but e'en then display
Its dewy wings, when first she was confin'd
To the dark tomb, was now grown almost blind
With age, when thus through fates black curtin broke
Unlook'd for light, that darkness which did choake
All passages by which the thin air held
Commerce with neigboring rooms, being now expel'd
By the dim tapers glimmering beams let fall
Part of the rayes through an old ruin'd wall
That fenc'd an ugly dungeon, where the night
Dwelt safe as in the Center; by the sight
Of which unlook'd for guest some prisoners who
Had there been stay'd, even till despairing to
Be ere releas'd, in eager fury tries
To force their way, where their directing eyes
Led by the light should guide them, come at length,
Where with times burden tir'd the buildings strength
Losing its first firm union was divorc'd
With gaping clefts, an easie strength inforc'd
Those feeble guards; but come into the room
Where ore the living Ladies sable tomb
Hung the directing light, they there in vain
For further passage seeking, were again
To the black dungeon, horrors dismal seat,
In sad despair making their slow retreat.

Now neer departing, a deep dolefull groan
Revers'd their eyes, amazement almost grown
To stupefaction stays them, whilst they hear
New sighs confirm their wonder, not their fear;
Till thus Euriolus, whose bold look spoke
The braver soul, the dismal silence broke.

What ere thou art that hoverest here within
This gloomy shadow, speak what wrong hath bin
Thy troubl'd Ghost's tormentor, art thou fled
From wo to stir the dust o'th' peacefull dead?
Or com'st from sacred shadows to lament
Some friends dead coarse, which this dark Tenement
Hath lodg'd in dust. The trembling Lady hearing
A humane voice again, and now not fearing
Th' approaches of a greater danger, cries,
What ere you are, fear mocks your faith, here lies
A wofull wretch intomb'd alive, that nere
Must look on light again, my spirit were
Blest if resolv'd to air, but here it must
A sad companion in the silent dust
To Loath'd corruption be, until the pale
Approaching Fiend, harsh famine, shall exhale
In dews of blood the purple moisture, that
Fed life's fresh springs; but now shall tremble at
My dolefull story, 'tis enough that fate
Hath for this tomb exchang'd a throne of state.

To active pity stirr'd, the valiant friends
Attempt her rescue, but their labor ends
In fruitless toyles, the ponderous marble lies
With too much weight to let the weak supplies
Of humane strength remov't, which whilst they tride
To weary sweats, kinde fortune lends this guide
To their mask'd vertue; the informing ear
Proclaims approaching steps, which usher'd fear
Into Ismander's brest; but his brave friend
(The bold Euriolus) resolv'd to end
By death or victory their bondage, goes
Near to the gate, where soon were entred those
Which in Pharonnida's restraint had bin
The active engines of that hateful sin,
With them, that Hag whose curst invention had
Revenge in such an uncouth dressing clad.

Whilst her Ismander seis'd, and with a charm
Of nimble strength commands the active arm
Of fierce Euriolus, directed by
Victorious valor purchac'd liberty
By strokes whose weight to dark destruction sunk
His worthless foes, and sent their pale souls drunk
With innocent blood stagg'ring from earth, to be
Maskt in the desarts of eternitie.

This being beheld by her whose hopes of life
With them departed, she concludes the strife
Of inquisition by directing to
An engine which but toucht would soon undo
That knot which puzzl'd all their strength, and give
The captive Princess hopes again to live
Within the reach of light, whose beams whilst she
Unfolds her eyes (those dazl'd stars) to see,
Dark misty wonder in a cloud orespread
His faith that rais'd her from that gloomy bed:
Amaz'd Euriolus, whose zeal-guided eyes
Soon knows the Princess through griefs dark disguise,
Could his inflam'd devotion into one
Great blast of praises be made up, t'had gone
Toward heavenly bowers on the expanded wings
Of his exalted joy, nor are the springs
Of life less rais'd with wonder in the brest
Of's royal Mistress, whose free soul exprest
As much of joy as in her clouded fate
With reason at the helm of action sate.

Here had they maskt in mutual wonder stay'd
T'unriddle fate, had not wise Fear obey'd
Reasons grave dictates, and with eager speed
Urge their departure, for whose guide they need
No more but her directions, who then lay
Taught by the fear of vengeance to obay
Their just demands, by whom inform'd of all
That might within the Castles circuit fall
With weights of danger, and taught how to free
Confin'd Florenza, to meet libertie,
They march in triumph, leaving none to take
Possession there, but her whose guilt would make
The torment just, though there constrain'd to dwell
Till death prepar'd her for a larger hell.
Whilst sleeps guards doubled by intemprance raign'd
Within the walls, with happy speed they gain'd
The Castles utmost ward, and furnisht there
With such choise horses as provided were
For th'Outlaws next days scouts; A glad adieu
Of their loath'd jail they take: Ismander knew
Each obscure way that in their secret flight
Might safety promise; so that sullen night
Could not obstruct their passage, though through ways
So full of dark meanders, not the days
Light could assist a stranger, ere the dawn
O'th' wakeful morn had spread her vails of lawn
Ore the fair Virgins of the Spring, there past
That silvan labyrinth, and with that had cast
Their greatest terror off, and taught their eyes
The welcom joys of liberty to prize.

And now the spangled squadrons of the night
Encountring beams had lost the field to light,
The morning proud in beauty grown, whilst they
With chearful speed past on the levell'd way
By solitude secure, of all unseen
Save early Laborers that resided in
Dispers'd poor cottages, by whom they'r view'd
With humble reverence, such as did delude
Sharp-ey'd suspition, they are now drawn near
Ismanders palace, whose fair towers appear
Above the groves, whose green enamel lent
The neighboring hills their prospects ornament.

A River whose unwearied bounty brings
The hourly tribute of a thousand Springs
From several fragrant vallies here, as grown
So rich, she now strove to preserve her own
Streams from the all-devouring Sea, did glide
Betwixt two hills which nature did divide
To entertain the smiling Nymph, till to
An entrance where her silver-eye did view
A wealthy vale she come, a vale in which
All fruitful pleasures did content enrich;
Where all so much deserv'd the name of best,
Each took a part seem'd to excell the rest.

Rounded with spacious meads, here scatter'd stood
Fair Country-farms, whose happy neighborhood,
Though not so near as justling Palaces
Which trouble Cities, yet had more to please
By a community of goodness in
That separation. Natures hand had been
To all too liberal, to let any want
The treasures of a free inhabitant,
Each in his own unrack'd inheritance
Where born expir'd, not striving to advance
Their levell'd fortunes to a loftier pitch
Then what first stil'd them honest, after rich;
Sober and sweet their lives, in all things blest
Which harmless Nature living unopprest
With surfeits did require: Their own Flocks bred
Their homespun garments, and on that they fed
Which from their Fields or Dairies plenteous store
Had fresh supplies: what fortune lent them more
Then an indifferent mean, was sent to be
The harbingers of hospitalitie.
Fair Virgins in their youths fresh April drest,
Courted by amorous Swains, were unopprest
By dark suspition, Ages sullen spies,
Whose spleen would have the envious counted wise.
Love was religious here, and for to aw
Their wilder passions, conscience was their law.

More to compleat this rural happiness,
They were protected from the harsh distress
Of long-wing'd power by the blest neighborhood
Of brave Ismander, whose known greatness stood
Not to eclipse their humble states, although
It shadowed them when injur'd power did grow
To persecution, by which means he prov'd
Not fear'd for greatness, but for goodness lov'd.
Which gentle passion his unhappy loss
Had sowr'd to grief, and made their joy their cross.

But now their antidote approaches, he
From heavy bondage is return'd to be
Their joyful wonder, at his Palace gate
Being now arriv'd, his Palace that of late
With's absence dimm'd in her most beauteous age
Stood more neglected then a Hermitage
Or sacred buildings, when the sinful times
To persecution aggravate their crimes.
But being enter'd, sadder objects took
Those outside wonders off, each servants look
Spoke him a sullen mourner, grave and sad,
Their sober carriage, in no liveries clad
But doleful sable, all their acts like those
Of weeping wives, when they to th' grave dispose
Their youthful husbands; yet all these were but
Imperfect shadows of a sorrow, put
In distant landskip, when to trial brought
Near his fair Ammida's, whose grief had sought
As dark a region for her sad retreat
As desperate grief ere made pale sorrows seat
In sacred temples the neglected lamp
So wastes its oil, when Heresies do cramp
Religions beams, with such a heavy look
Monarchs depos'd behold themselves forsook
By those that flatter'd greatness, shut from all
Those glorious objects of the world that call
Our souls in admiration forth, her time
Being spent in grief, made life but Natures crime.

The rough disguise of time assisted by
The meager gripe of harsh captivity,
Had now expung'd those characters by which
Ismander once was known, and even the rich
In love and duty rendred strangers to
Their honor'd Master, from whose serious view
Neglective grief withdraws them, so that he
An unknown Pilgrim might have gone to be
Theirs and his own afflictor, had that fear
Not thus been cur'd: A Spaniel being of dear
Esteem to Ammida, since the delight
Of her Ismander once, come to the sight
Of's first protector, stays not till a call
Invites acquaintance, but preventing all
The guides of reason by the sleights of sense,
Fawning on's Master, checks th' intelligence
Of's more forgetful followers, which being seen
By an old servant, whose firm youth had been
Spun out amongst that family, till by
Grave age surpris'd, it led his sober eye
To stricter observations, such as brought
Him near to truth, and on contracted thought
Rais'd a belief, which though it durst conclude
Nought on the dark text; yet i'th' magnitude
Of hope exalted by his joy he hastes
To's mourning Mistress, tells her that she wastes
Each minute more she spends in grief, if he
Dares trust his eyes t'inform his memorie.

Contracted spirits starting from the heart
Of doubtful Ammida, to every part
Post through the troubl'd blood, a combat fought
Betwixt pale fear and sanguine hope, had oft
Won and lost battails in her cheeks, whilst she
Leaving her sullen train, did haste to see
Those new come guests: But the first enterview
Unmasks Ismander, wing'd with love she flew
To his imbraces; 'twas no faint disguise
Of a course habit could betray those eyes
Into mistakes, that for directors had
Loves powerful optiques, Nuptial joys unclad
In all their naked beauties, no delight
So full of pleasure, the first active night
Being but a busie and laborious dream
Compar'd with this, this, that had swell'd the stream
Of joy to fainting surfeits, whose hot strife
Had overflow'd the crimson-sea of life,
If not restrain'd by a desire to keep
What each had lost in the eternal sleep.

But now broke through the epileptique mist
Of amorous rapture, rallied spirits twist
Again their optique cordage, whose mixt beams
Now separate, and on collateral streams
Disperst expressions of affection bore
To each congratulating friend that wore
Not out those favors with neglect, but by
A speedy, though unpractick sympathie
Met their full tide of bliss; glad fame which brings
Truths messages upon her silver-wings,
In private whisper hovers for a while
Within the palace, every servants smile
Invites a new spectator, who from thence
(Proud to be author of intelligence
So welcom) hastes till knowledge rang'd through all
Diffusive joy made epidemical:
For though that noble family alone
Afforded pleasure a triumphant throne,
Yet frolick mirth did find a residence
In every neighbors bosom; they dispence
With their allegiance to their labor, and
Revel in lusty cups, the brown bowls stand
With Amber-liquor fill'd, whose fruitful tears
Dropt lov'd Ismander's health, till it appears
In sanguine tincture on their cheeks: All now
Had, if not calm'd their passions, smooth'd a brow
To temporize with pleasure. The sad story
Of his own fortune, and that Ages glory,
Pharonnida, whilst each attentive dwells
On expectation, brave Ismander tells.