Canidia, or the Witches A Rhapsody. In Five Parts |
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 | 1. |
| 2. |
| 3. |
| 4. |
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. | CANTO VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| 5. |
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 | Canidia, or the Witches |  |
25
CANTO VII.
By this they were compos'd, a show
Of goodly Benchers, all a row.
A deep Silence was made, all whist,
After long Pause, when the whole List
Sate looking one upon another,
Waiting who should that Silence smother.
Softly in state, rose up a Dame
Of reverend Worth, Sagan by Name.
Of goodly Benchers, all a row.
A deep Silence was made, all whist,
After long Pause, when the whole List
Sate looking one upon another,
Waiting who should that Silence smother.
Softly in state, rose up a Dame
Of reverend Worth, Sagan by Name.
She was of proner Body, Face
Printed with Gravity and Grace.
With lofty bending Brow, quick Eye
Sparkling forth Beams of Majesty.
Of Forehead high, of Visage lean
And long, of Feature mean.
Of Colour swarthy, darkish Cheeks,
Furrow'd all along with Reeks.
Printed with Gravity and Grace.
With lofty bending Brow, quick Eye
Sparkling forth Beams of Majesty.
Of Forehead high, of Visage lean
And long, of Feature mean.
Of Colour swarthy, darkish Cheeks,
Furrow'd all along with Reeks.
High Roman-Nose, Hair all grey,
Loosly dangling every way
Down to her Heels, her Back a Bow,
Which Age had bent, Supporters slow
And faint, Wast long and small,
Breasts limber, Body brindled all.
And yet a kind of Decency
Shone from that squalid Gravity.
Loosly dangling every way
Down to her Heels, her Back a Bow,
Which Age had bent, Supporters slow
And faint, Wast long and small,
Breasts limber, Body brindled all.
And yet a kind of Decency
Shone from that squalid Gravity.
In this so comly Equipage,
Rose up this goodly Personage;
And casting a sad sober Glance
O're the whole Round, she did advance
Her graceful Self to the full View,
And hearing of that Damned Crew.
Then with an Eye submissly thrown
Upon the ground, she fetcht a Groan:
And making a low Courtesy,
With demure simpring Majesty
She thus began ------
Rose up this goodly Personage;
And casting a sad sober Glance
O're the whole Round, she did advance
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And hearing of that Damned Crew.
Then with an Eye submissly thrown
Upon the ground, she fetcht a Groan:
And making a low Courtesy,
With demure simpring Majesty
She thus began ------
‘My Lords and Ladies,
‘It grieves my Soul, when I reflect
‘Upon my long careless Neglect,
‘Of that great Charge your Honours have
‘Nobly conferr'd on me your Slave.
‘Wherefore my Blood you may Command,
‘For at your Mercy here I stand.
‘It grieves my Soul, when I reflect
‘Upon my long careless Neglect,
‘Of that great Charge your Honours have
‘Nobly conferr'd on me your Slave.
‘Wherefore my Blood you may Command,
‘For at your Mercy here I stand.
With that, she deeply sigh'd, and wrung
Her ruful hands: ‘Alas, my Tongue,
‘And Hands, and Brain, and all's too weak
‘To do you service! Speak, ô speak
‘Your lowly Vassals Pardon; speak
‘Quickly, or my poor Heart will break.
At which she stopt, yet would have spoke
More still; but fear and sorrow broke
Her faultring Voice; the Tears distill'd
Amain, all down her Cheeks, and fill'd
Those deep Gutturs, trickling apace
Even to the Ground, in piteous case.
Her ruful hands: ‘Alas, my Tongue,
‘And Hands, and Brain, and all's too weak
‘To do you service! Speak, ô speak
‘Your lowly Vassals Pardon; speak
‘Quickly, or my poor Heart will break.
At which she stopt, yet would have spoke
More still; but fear and sorrow broke
Her faultring Voice; the Tears distill'd
Amain, all down her Cheeks, and fill'd
Those deep Gutturs, trickling apace
Even to the Ground, in piteous case.
So have I seen a Trait'rous Wight
Behave himself, just in that plight.
With what true Tears, I know not, wetting
The Pavement where his Prince was setting:
So hath he groan'd, so hath he wrung
His too much guilty Hands, and slung
His Arms across, so hath he tore
His Locks, so could he speak no more,
Not for his life, 'til Pardon brought
Out of his Masters bosom, taught
His Treason-tainted Tongue, from hence
A thankful strain of Eloquence.
Behave himself, just in that plight.
With what true Tears, I know not, wetting
The Pavement where his Prince was setting:
So hath he groan'd, so hath he wrung
His too much guilty Hands, and slung
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His Locks, so could he speak no more,
Not for his life, 'til Pardon brought
Out of his Masters bosom, taught
His Treason-tainted Tongue, from hence
A thankful strain of Eloquence.
Thus was our Oratrix astound,
Thus ran she, stuck she fast aground,
And would not be fetch'd off, till one
Brought her a Relaxation
For that offence in Pluto's Name,
And the whole Bench confirm'd the same.
Which put new Courage to this faint
Matron, and made her brisk and quaint.
She that of late, seem'd quite depriv'd
Of Speech, now being re-enliv'd,
Spake to the Wonderment, and fear
Of all the Powers that did her hear.
Thus ran she, stuck she fast aground,
And would not be fetch'd off, till one
Brought her a Relaxation
For that offence in Pluto's Name,
And the whole Bench confirm'd the same.
Which put new Courage to this faint
Matron, and made her brisk and quaint.
She that of late, seem'd quite depriv'd
Of Speech, now being re-enliv'd,
Spake to the Wonderment, and fear
Of all the Powers that did her hear.
For starting up with far more Grace,
She star'd them boldly in the Face:
Yet so, as she had not well shook
Her former Dread quite off, she took
A handful of the Hair she tore,
And standing where she did before,
Wiped her Eyes and Cheeks, all red
As they were, with Tears, all blubbered.
Then hurling the wet Fleece away,
The Cloud remov'd, out burst the day;
Fear banished, and sorrow gone,
She boldly, chearly thus went on.
She star'd them boldly in the Face:
Yet so, as she had not well shook
Her former Dread quite off, she took
A handful of the Hair she tore,
And standing where she did before,
Wiped her Eyes and Cheeks, all red
As they were, with Tears, all blubbered.
Then hurling the wet Fleece away,
The Cloud remov'd, out burst the day;
Fear banished, and sorrow gone,
She boldly, chearly thus went on.
| Canidia, or the Witches | |