Du Bartas His Divine Weekes And Workes with A Compleate Collectio[n] of all the other most delight-full Workes: Translated and written by yt famous Philomusus: Iosvah Sylvester |
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 | Du Bartas |  |
1119
AVTO-MACHIA: OR Self-Civil-War.
I sing
not Priam, nor the Siege of Troy:
Nor Agamemnon's Iarr with Thetis ioy:
I sing not heer Æneas stormfull Fate;
Queen Dido's love, nor Goddess Iuno's hate:
I sing not Cæsar, nor his Son-in-law;
Whose Civill Rage Rome and Pharsalia saw.
I sing my Self; my Civill-Wars within;
The Victories I hourly lose and win;
The daily Duel, the continuall Strife,
The War that ends not, till I end my life.
And yet, not Mine alone, not onely Mine;
But every-One's, that vnder th'honour'd Signe
Of Christ his Standard shall his Name enroule,
With holy vows of Body and of Soule.
Nor Agamemnon's Iarr with Thetis ioy:
I sing not heer Æneas stormfull Fate;
Queen Dido's love, nor Goddess Iuno's hate:
I sing not Cæsar, nor his Son-in-law;
Whose Civill Rage Rome and Pharsalia saw.
I sing my Self; my Civill-Wars within;
The Victories I hourly lose and win;
The daily Duel, the continuall Strife,
The War that ends not, till I end my life.
And yet, not Mine alone, not onely Mine;
But every-One's, that vnder th'honour'd Signe
Of Christ his Standard shall his Name enroule,
With holy vows of Body and of Soule.
Vouchsafe, O Father, succour from above;
Courage of Soule, comfort of Heav'nly Love:
Triumphant Captaine, Glorious General,
Furnish me Armes from thine own Arcenall:
O Sacred Spirit, My spirit's assistant bee;
And in This Conflict, make Mee conquer Mee.
Courage of Soule, comfort of Heav'nly Love:
Triumphant Captaine, Glorious General,
Furnish me Armes from thine own Arcenall:
O Sacred Spirit, My spirit's assistant bee;
And in This Conflict, make Mee conquer Mee.
VERTVE I loue, I leane to Vice: I blame
This wicked World, yet I imbrace the same.
I climb to Heav'n, I cleaue to Earth: I both
Too-loue my Self, and yet my Self I loath.
Peace-less, I Peace pursue; in Ciuil War,
With and against my Self, I ioyne, I iarr:
I burn, I freeze; I fall downe, I stand fast:
Well-ill I fare; I glory, though disgraç't:
I die aliue: I triumph, put to flight;
I feed on Cares, in Teares I take delight:
My Slaue (base-braue) I serue; I roame at large,
In libertie, yet lie in Gaolers Charge:
I strike, and stroak my Self: I, kindly-keen,
Work mine own Woe, rub my Gal, rouz my Spleen.
This wicked World, yet I imbrace the same.
I climb to Heav'n, I cleaue to Earth: I both
Too-loue my Self, and yet my Self I loath.
Peace-less, I Peace pursue; in Ciuil War,
With and against my Self, I ioyne, I iarr:
I burn, I freeze; I fall downe, I stand fast:
Well-ill I fare; I glory, though disgraç't:
I die aliue: I triumph, put to flight;
I feed on Cares, in Teares I take delight:
My Slaue (base-braue) I serue; I roame at large,
In libertie, yet lie in Gaolers Charge:
I strike, and stroak my Self: I, kindly-keen,
Work mine own Woe, rub my Gal, rouz my Spleen.
Oft, in my Sleep, to see rare Dreams I dreame;
Waking, mine Eye doth scarce discerne a Beame.
My Minde's strange Megrim, whirling to and fro,
Now thrusts mee hither, thither then doth throwe.
In divers Factions I my Self divide;
And All I try, and fly to every Side.
What I but now desir'd, I now disdain:
What (late) I waigh'd not, now I wish again:
To-Day, to-Morrow; This, That, Now, Anon,
All, Nothing, crave I; Ever Never-one.
Waking, mine Eye doth scarce discerne a Beame.
1120
Now thrusts mee hither, thither then doth throwe.
In divers Factions I my Self divide;
And All I try, and fly to every Side.
What I but now desir'd, I now disdain:
What (late) I waigh'd not, now I wish again:
To-Day, to-Morrow; This, That, Now, Anon,
All, Nothing, crave I; Ever Never-one.
Dull Combatant, vnready for the Field,
Too-tardy take I (after wounds) my Shield.
Still hurried headlong to vnlawfull things,
Down-dragging Vice Mee eas'ly down-ward dings:
But, sacred Vertue climbs so hard and hy,
That hardly can I her steep steps discry.
Too-tardy take I (after wounds) my Shield.
Still hurried headlong to vnlawfull things,
Down-dragging Vice Mee eas'ly down-ward dings:
But, sacred Vertue climbs so hard and hy,
That hardly can I her steep steps discry.
Both Right and Wrong with Mee indifferent are:
My Lust is Law: what I desire, I dare.
(Is there so foul a Fault, so fond a Fact,
Which, Folly asking, Fury dares not act?)
But, art-less, heart-less, in Religion's Cause
(To doo her Lessons, and defend her Lawes)
The All-proof Armour of My God I lose,
Flee from my Charge, and yeeld it to his Foes.
My Lust is Law: what I desire, I dare.
(Is there so foul a Fault, so fond a Fact,
Which, Folly asking, Fury dares not act?)
But, art-less, heart-less, in Religion's Cause
(To doo her Lessons, and defend her Lawes)
The All-proof Armour of My God I lose,
Flee from my Charge, and yeeld it to his Foes.
Guilty of Sin, Sin's Punishment I shun,
But not the Guilt, before th'Offence bee don
(For, How could shunning of a Sin, ensew
To bee occasion of another New?)
Oft and again at the same stone I trip,
As if I learn'd, by falling, not to slip.
Alive I perish, and my Self vndoo;
Mine eyes (Self-wise) Witting and Willing too.
But not the Guilt, before th'Offence bee don
(For, How could shunning of a Sin, ensew
To bee occasion of another New?)
Oft and again at the same stone I trip,
As if I learn'd, by falling, not to slip.
Alive I perish, and my Self vndoo;
Mine eyes (Self-wise) Witting and Willing too.
Sick, to my Self I run for my Relief;
So, Sicker of my Physick than my Grief:
For, while I seek my swelting Thirst to swage,
Another Thirst more ragingly doth rage:
While, burnt to death, to cool mee I desire;
With Flames, my Flames; with Sulphur, quench I Fire:
While that I strive my swelling Waves to stop,
More stormily they toss above my top.
Thus am I cur'd, This is my common Ease;
My Med'cine still worse than my worst Disease:
My Sores with Sores, my Wounds with Wounds, I heal,
While to my Self, my Self I still conceal.
So, Sicker of my Physick than my Grief:
For, while I seek my swelting Thirst to swage,
Another Thirst more ragingly doth rage:
While, burnt to death, to cool mee I desire;
With Flames, my Flames; with Sulphur, quench I Fire:
While that I strive my swelling Waves to stop,
More stormily they toss above my top.
Thus am I cur'd, This is my common Ease;
My Med'cine still worse than my worst Disease:
My Sores with Sores, my Wounds with Wounds, I heal,
While to my Self, my Self I still conceal.
O what leud Leagues! what Truces make I still
With Sin, with Satan, and my wanton Will!
What slight occasions doo I take to sin!
What silly Trains am I intrapped in!
What idle Cloaks for Crimes! what Nets to hide
Notorious Sins, already long descri'd!
I write in Ice (Windes Witnes, sign'd with Showrs)
I will redeem my foul Life's former hours:
But, soon the swinge of Custom (Whirl-winde-like)
Rapting my Passion (ever Fashion-sick)
Transports Mee to the Contrary; alone,
Faint Guard of Goodnes; Arm-less Champion.
With Sin, with Satan, and my wanton Will!
What slight occasions doo I take to sin!
What silly Trains am I intrapped in!
What idle Cloaks for Crimes! what Nets to hide
Notorious Sins, already long descri'd!
1121
I will redeem my foul Life's former hours:
But, soon the swinge of Custom (Whirl-winde-like)
Rapting my Passion (ever Fashion-sick)
Transports Mee to the Contrary; alone,
Faint Guard of Goodnes; Arm-less Champion.
My Green-sick Taste doth nothing sweeter finde
Than what is bitter to a gracious Minde:
Egypt's fat Flesh-pots I am longing-for:
Th'eternall Manna I doo even abhorre.
World's Monarch Mammon (dropsie mysticall)
Crown'd round-faç't Goddess, coined belial:
Midas's Desire, the Miser's onely Trust;
The sacred hunger of Pactolian Dust,
Gold, Gold bewitches mee, and frets accurst
My greedy Throat with more than Dipsian Thirst.
My minde's a Gulf, whose Gaping Nought can stuff;
My heart a Hell, that never hath enough:
The more I have I crave, and less content;
In Store, most Poor, in Plenty, Indigent.
For, of these Cates how-much so-e'r I cram,
It doth not stop my Mouth, but stretch the same.
Than what is bitter to a gracious Minde:
Egypt's fat Flesh-pots I am longing-for:
Th'eternall Manna I doo even abhorre.
World's Monarch Mammon (dropsie mysticall)
Crown'd round-faç't Goddess, coined belial:
Midas's Desire, the Miser's onely Trust;
The sacred hunger of Pactolian Dust,
Gold, Gold bewitches mee, and frets accurst
My greedy Throat with more than Dipsian Thirst.
My minde's a Gulf, whose Gaping Nought can stuff;
My heart a Hell, that never hath enough:
The more I have I crave, and less content;
In Store, most Poor, in Plenty, Indigent.
For, of these Cates how-much so-e'r I cram,
It doth not stop my Mouth, but stretch the same.
Sweet Vsurie's Incestuous Interest,
For Dallers, Dolours hoordeth in my Chest.
The World's Slave, Profit, and the Minde's Slut, Pleasure
Insatiate Both, Both bound-less, Both past measure:
This Cleopatra, That Sardanapale)
For huge Annoies, bring Ioyes but short and small.
For Dallers, Dolours hoordeth in my Chest.
The World's Slave, Profit, and the Minde's Slut, Pleasure
Insatiate Both, Both bound-less, Both past measure:
This Cleopatra, That Sardanapale)
For huge Annoies, bring Ioyes but short and small.
O Miracle! begot by Heav'n, in Earth
(My Minde divine, My Body brute by Birth)
O! what a Monster am I, to depaint!
Half-Friend, half-Fiend, half-Savage, half a Saint;
High'r than my Fire doth my gross Earth aspire:
My raging Flesh my retch-less Force doth tire,
And (drunk with Worlds-Must, and deep sunk in Sleep)
My Spirit (the Spy, that wary Watch should keep)
Betraies, alas! (Wo that I trust it so)
My Soule's dear Kingdom to her deadly Fo.
(My Minde divine, My Body brute by Birth)
O! what a Monster am I, to depaint!
Half-Friend, half-Fiend, half-Savage, half a Saint;
High'r than my Fire doth my gross Earth aspire:
My raging Flesh my retch-less Force doth tire,
And (drunk with Worlds-Must, and deep sunk in Sleep)
My Spirit (the Spy, that wary Watch should keep)
Betraies, alas! (Wo that I trust it so)
My Soule's dear Kingdom to her deadly Fo.
Through Cares Charybdis, and through Gulfs of Grief,
Star-lar-boord run I, Sailing all my Life
On merry-sorry Seas; my Winde, my Will;
My Ship, my Flesh; my Sense, my Pilot still.
Star-lar-boord run I, Sailing all my Life
On merry-sorry Seas; my Winde, my Will;
My Ship, my Flesh; my Sense, my Pilot still.
As in a most seditious Common-weal,
Within my Brest I feel my Best rebell:
Against their Prince my furious People rise;
Their Aw-less Prince dares his owne Law despise.
Mine Eve's an Out-law: And my struggling Twins,
Iacob and Esau, never can bee friends:
Such deadly feud, such discord, such despight
(Even between Brethren) such continuall fight.
Within my Brest I feel my Best rebell:
Against their Prince my furious People rise;
Their Aw-less Prince dares his owne Law despise.
Mine Eve's an Out-law: And my struggling Twins,
Iacob and Esau, never can bee friends:
1122
(Even between Brethren) such continuall fight.
What's don in Mee, Another doth, not I;
Yet both (alas!) my Guest and Enemy:
My minde, vnkinde (suborned by my Fo)
Indeed, within mee, but not with mee tho;
Neer, yet far-off, in fleshly Lees be-soil'd,
And with the World's contagious Filth defil'd.
Yet both (alas!) my Guest and Enemy:
My minde, vnkinde (suborned by my Fo)
Indeed, within mee, but not with mee tho;
Neer, yet far-off, in fleshly Lees be-soil'd,
And with the World's contagious Filth defil'd.
I am too-narrow for mine owne Desires;
My Self denies mee, what my Self requires:
Fearfull I hope: carefull-secure I languish:
Hungry too-full; Dry-Drunken; sugred Anguish;
Weary of Life, merry in Death; I suck
Wine from the Pumice, Hony from the Rock.
On Thorns, my Grapes; on Garlick growes my Rose:
From Crums my Sums; from Flint my Fountain flowes:
In showrs of Tears, mine hours of Fears I mourn:
My Looks to Brooks, my Beams to Streams, I turn:
Yet, in this Torrent of my Torments rïfe,
I sink Annoies, and drink the Ioies of Life.
My Self denies mee, what my Self requires:
Fearfull I hope: carefull-secure I languish:
Hungry too-full; Dry-Drunken; sugred Anguish;
Weary of Life, merry in Death; I suck
Wine from the Pumice, Hony from the Rock.
On Thorns, my Grapes; on Garlick growes my Rose:
From Crums my Sums; from Flint my Fountain flowes:
In showrs of Tears, mine hours of Fears I mourn:
My Looks to Brooks, my Beams to Streams, I turn:
Yet, in this Torrent of my Torments rïfe,
I sink Annoies, and drink the Ioies of Life.
Dim light, brim night, Beams waving cloudy-cleer:
Vnstable State, void Hope, vain Help, far-neer:
False-true Perswasion, law-less Lawfulness:
Confused Method, Milde-wilde War-like Peace:
Disordred Order, Mournfull Meriments:
Dark Day, Wrong Way, Dull-double Diligence:
Infamous Fame, known Error, skil-less Skill:
Mad Minde, rude Reason, an vnwilling Will:
A healthy Plague, a wealthy Want, poor Treasure:
A pleasing Torment, a tormenting Pleasure:
An odious Love, an vgly Beauty; base
Reproachfull Honour, a disgracefull Grace:
A fruit-less Fruit, A dry dis-flowred Flower:
A feeble Force, a conquered Conquerour:
A sickly Health, dead Life, and rest-less Rest:
These are the Comforts of my Soule distrest.
Vnstable State, void Hope, vain Help, far-neer:
False-true Perswasion, law-less Lawfulness:
Confused Method, Milde-wilde War-like Peace:
Disordred Order, Mournfull Meriments:
Dark Day, Wrong Way, Dull-double Diligence:
Infamous Fame, known Error, skil-less Skill:
Mad Minde, rude Reason, an vnwilling Will:
A healthy Plague, a wealthy Want, poor Treasure:
A pleasing Torment, a tormenting Pleasure:
An odious Love, an vgly Beauty; base
Reproachfull Honour, a disgracefull Grace:
A fruit-less Fruit, A dry dis-flowred Flower:
A feeble Force, a conquered Conquerour:
A sickly Health, dead Life, and rest-less Rest:
These are the Comforts of my Soule distrest.
O! how I Like, Dis-like, Desire, Disdain;
Repell, repeal, loath, and delight again!
O! What, Whom, Whether (neither Flesh nor Fish)
How, weary of, the same again I wish!
I will, I nill; I nill, I will; my Minde
Perswading This, my Mood to That inclin'd.
My loose Affection (Proteus-like) appears
In every Form; at once it frowns and fleers.
Mine ill-good Will is vain and variable:
My (Hydra) Flesh buds Heads innumerable:
My Minde's a Maze; a Labyrinth, my Reason:
Mine Ey (false Spy) the Door to Phantsies Treason:
My rebell Sense (Self-soothing) still affects
What it should flee; What it should ply, neglects:
My flitting Hope with Passions Storms is tost
But now to Heav'n, anon to Hell almost:
Concording Discord kils mee; and again,
Discording Concord doth my Life sustain.
Repell, repeal, loath, and delight again!
O! What, Whom, Whether (neither Flesh nor Fish)
How, weary of, the same again I wish!
I will, I nill; I nill, I will; my Minde
Perswading This, my Mood to That inclin'd.
My loose Affection (Proteus-like) appears
In every Form; at once it frowns and fleers.
Mine ill-good Will is vain and variable:
My (Hydra) Flesh buds Heads innumerable:
My Minde's a Maze; a Labyrinth, my Reason:
Mine Ey (false Spy) the Door to Phantsies Treason:
1123
What it should flee; What it should ply, neglects:
My flitting Hope with Passions Storms is tost
But now to Heav'n, anon to Hell almost:
Concording Discord kils mee; and again,
Discording Concord doth my Life sustain.
My Self at once I both displease and please;
Without my Self, my Self I fain would seaze:
For, my too-much of Mee, Mee much annoies;
And my Selfe's Plenty my poor Self destroies:
Who seeks Mee in Mee, in Mee shall not finde
Mee as my Self: Hermaphrodite in minde,
I am (at-once) Male, Female, Neuter: yet
What-e'r I am, I am not mine, I weet:
I am not with my Self, as I conceive:
Wretch that I am, my Self my Self deceive:
Vnto my Self, my Self my Self betray:
I from my Self, banish my Self away:
My Self agrees not with my Self a jot,
Knowes not my Self: I have my Self forgot:
Against my Self, my Self moove Iarres vnjust:
I trust my Self, and I my Self distrust:
My Self I follow, and my Self I fly:
Besides my Self, and in my Self, am I:
My Self am not my Self, another same;
Vnlike my Self, and like my Self, I am:
Self-fond, Self-furious: and thus, Wayward Elf,
I cannot live with, nor without, my Self.
Without my Self, my Self I fain would seaze:
For, my too-much of Mee, Mee much annoies;
And my Selfe's Plenty my poor Self destroies:
Who seeks Mee in Mee, in Mee shall not finde
Mee as my Self: Hermaphrodite in minde,
I am (at-once) Male, Female, Neuter: yet
What-e'r I am, I am not mine, I weet:
I am not with my Self, as I conceive:
Wretch that I am, my Self my Self deceive:
Vnto my Self, my Self my Self betray:
I from my Self, banish my Self away:
My Self agrees not with my Self a jot,
Knowes not my Self: I have my Self forgot:
Against my Self, my Self moove Iarres vnjust:
I trust my Self, and I my Self distrust:
My Self I follow, and my Self I fly:
Besides my Self, and in my Self, am I:
My Self am not my Self, another same;
Vnlike my Self, and like my Self, I am:
Self-fond, Self-furious: and thus, Wayward Elf,
I cannot live with, nor without, my Self.
FINIS.
| Du Bartas | |