The Amaranth Or, religious poems; consisting of fables, visions, emblems, etc. Adorned with copper-plates from the best masters [by Walter Harte] |
The Amaranth | ||
BOETIUS:
OR, The UPRIGHT STATESMAN. A supposed EPISTLE From BOETIUS to his Wife RUSTICIANA.
Spemque metumque domat, vitio sublimior omni;
Exemptus fatis; indignantemque repellit
Fortunam; dubio quem non in turbine rerum
Deprêndit suprema dies, sed abire paratum,
Ac plenum vitâ.
Stat. Sylv. L. I.
INTRODUCTION.
Improves from censure, and distrusts applause.
Firm in his hope, he yields not to despair ;
The cube reverst is still erect and square .
The coolest head, and yet the warmest heart:
Blest in thy nuptials, blest in thy retreat,
Privately good, and amiably great;
Accept with candor these spontaneous lays,
And grant me pardon, for I ask not praise.—
In proof the Muse true oracles recites,
Hear what Boetius to his Consort writes.
In all be like him, but unhappiness!
Thus He aspir'd on meditation's wings,
And to the best of Consorts thus he sings:
“The fortitude of a just man consists in contemning the flatteries of prosperity, and overcoming the fears of poverty.”. Sti. Gregor. Moral. L. VIII.
Most in my eyes, and ever in my mind;
Exil'd from all the joys the world can give,
And—[for my greater grief!] allow'd to live:
[By Him , I train'd to glory, basely left;]
Of all things, but my innocence, bereft:
Patrician, consul, statesman but in name;
Of honour plunder'd, and proscrib'd in fame:
[Betray'd by men my patronage had fed,
And curst by lips to which I gave their bread;]
To thee I breathe my elegies of woe;
For thee, and chiefly thee, my sorrows flow:
Alike partaker of my joys or grief!
To mix thy antidote with my despair!
Rusticiana lives to smoothe my death,
And waft with sighs to Heav'n my parting breath.
Hence hope and fortitude inspire my breast:
Be her's the earthly part, and Thine the rest!
Still I am happy, human and divine;
Th'assistant angel she, th'assistance Thine.
Which [loth to part] dwells whisp'ring on the trees:
Chaste as the lamb th'indulgent pastor leads
To living streams thro' Sharon's flow'ry meads;
Mild as the voice of comfort to despair;
Fair as the spring, and yet more true than fair ;
Brighter than rills, that glitter as they run,
And mark thee spotless;—air thy purity
Denotes, thy clearness fire, and earth thy constancy .
Weep not to read these melancholy strains;
Change courts for cells, and coronets for chains.—
No greatness can be lost, where God remains!
And deathless honours of the Manlian name;
Th'unsoil'd succession of renown'd descent,
Equal to Time's historical extent ?
One of my ancestors receiv'd his doom
There, where he sav'd the liberties of Rome!
The Gaulish champion, and his country save?
Did not a third, [and harder was his fate]
Make his own child a victim for the state?
And did not I my wealth and life consume,
To bless at once Theodoric and Rome?—
But all is cancell'd and forgotten since;
Past merits were reproaches to my prince!
Thy birth from Symmachus avails not thee:
Thy meekness, prudence, beauty, innocence,
Thy knowledge, and thy virtues, gave offence.
When excellence is eminent, like thine,
Our eyes are dazzled with too bright a shrine;
Death must the medium give, that makes it mildly shine.
Who founds his confidence on Princes smiles?
Convenient is the regal term for just.
The plant, my cultivating hands had made
A spreading tree, oppress'd me with its shade;
Ambition push'd forth many a vig'rous shoot,
And rancid jealousy manur'd the root:
Ingratitude a willing heart mis-led,
And sycophants the growing mischief fed,
Till th'Arian-Sophist crept thro' all restraint;
The Tempter ply'd him, and there split the saint.
Th'assassin-hand which Odoácer slew,
Once more, distain'd with blood, appear'd to view:
Not foe by foe in hostile fields opprest,
But friend with friend, th'inviter and the guest .
To sow religion's seeds in courtly soils!
O'ercharg'd with specious herbage, bore no fruit,
Gorg'd to satiety with unctuous juice
From a fat earth, and form'd for bulk, not use;
Till all the cultivating hand receives
Is steril plenty of luxuriant leaves .—
Or, where we sow'd the grain of life, succeeds
A copious harvest of pernicious weeds.
Where corn once stood, th'insatiate thistle stands,
And deleterious hemlock choaks the lands.
I dare present my last appeal to Heav'n.
Religion and clear honesty, combin'd,
Made up the short full system of my mind.
Nicely I mark'd the quicksands of the state,
The crown's encroachments, and the people's hate:
And taught his subjects willingly t'obey:
Thus ev'ry thing conspir'd to one great end,
The nation was my child, the king my friend.
Both still I serv'd with uniform intent,
The good of both with equal fervour meant;
And, wheresoe'er th'infraction first arose,
Still judg'd th'aggressors man's and nature's foes.
Those, whose good sense and virtues poize the state:
So mariners, when storms the ocean sweep,
Commit their guardian-ballast to the deep.
Tricilla whisp'ring in the tyrant's ear ,
Assert the glories which are all thy own;
And lop the branch that over-shades the throne;
When he and malice know, I taught no more
Than ev'ry righteous statesman taught before.
Was to reign monarch of the people's hearts:
[Swift to encourage, eager to redress,
The steward of a nation's happiness;]
Taught him, each gift he gave, by truth to scan;
T'adapt the man to place, not place to man;
To guard the public wealth with anxious care,
Studious of peace, but still prepar'd for war:
Taught him, that princes of celestial kind,
Like Numa, cultivate the field and mind :
Warn'd him 'gainst pow'r, which suffers no controul;
But mostly that, which persecutes the soul:
That none are true to man who're false to God ;
And that our lives, except by freedom blest,
Are a dull passive slavery at best.”
Hence righteous kings of softer clay are made;
Not for their subjects mis'ry, but their aid .
True liberty, by pious monarchs giv'n,
Is emblematic manna rain'd from heav'n:
Without it, ev'ry appetite is pall'd,
The body fetter'd, and the mind enthrall'd .
The nightingale's recess in poplar-shades,
To Nero's house of gold, and Nero's fare;
Th'aërial chorister, no longer free,
Wails and detests man's civil cruelty:
Still dumb th'imprison'd sylvan bard remains;
[Your human bards make music with their chains;]
And when from his exalted cage he sees
The hills, the dales, the lawns, the streams, the trees,
He looks on courtly food with loathing eyes,
And sighs for liberty, and worms, and flies .
Shall shade the hateful remnant of the tale.
Vindictive plaints and acrimonious strains;
Make the solemnity of grief appear
Magnificently dumb, without a tear!
Brave as our sex, and as thy own resign'd;
Unconquer'd, like thy beauty, be thy mind!—
Wretch that I was, how dar'd I to complain?
Heav'n's chastisements are never dealt in vain!
In something, or my pride or frailty err'd,
And my just doom was certain, tho' deferr'd.
The mists of twilight-sunshine, and esteem,
Made me not greater grow, but greater seem.
When I the paths of human grandeur trod,
Might not my alien-heart diverge from God?
Might I not raise my kins-folk and my friends
From private reasons, and for private ends;
Far from the solar walk, and court's high-way ?
Might I not swell too much on earthly pow'r,
Man's ideot-play-thing, gewgaw of an hour?
Or might not false compliance, flatt'ry, art,
Un-hinge my truth, un-christianize my heart?
The consul's station, or the statesman's place;
The confidence I gain'd, the trusts I bore?—
See, my heart sickens to review them more!
Boast as we will, dissemble as we can,
A pious peasant is the greater man.
To part the Great from pageantry of life!
To wean the bearded infant from his toys,
Vain hopes, vain honours, and still vainer joys!
With nauseous incense choak'd, and hireling-wit;
Hymn'd by a chorus of self-serving tools,
The Nisroch of his knaves, and calf of fools!—
I'll dwell no longer on this angry theme ;—
But sketch the moral picture of a dream .
Like a sick child, I moan'd myself to rest:
When lo, a figure of celestial mien,
[Known indistinctly once, and faintly seen]
Approach'd me; fair and graceful as a queen.
Now, [strange to tell!] she seem'd of human size,
And now, her form august half reach'd the skies .
“Is this Boetius? Or Boetius' shade?
“What sudden stroke of unexpected woe
“Congeals thy tears, and wants the pow'r to flow?
“Incapable of comfort or relief,
“See a dumb image petrify'd with grief!
“Th'impetuous storm arose not by degrees,
“But bursts like hurricanes on Adria's seas .”
Her tender hand; “My son, my son,” she cry'd,
“Med'cines, and not complaints, thy pangs must ease;
“False greatness, and false pride, are thy disease.”
Then with her other hand she touch'd my eyes ,
Soft, as when Zephyr's breath o'er roses flies:
Instant my Sense return'd, restor'd and whole,
To re-possess its empire of the soul.
Sleep on each hill, and sadden ev'ry dale;
Sudden, up-springing from the north, invades
A purging wind, which first disturbs the shades;
Thins the black phalanx; till with fury driv'n
Swift disappears the flying wreck of heav'n:
To its own native blue the sky refines,
And the sun's orb with double radiance shines .
Recover'd reason lab'ring in my eyes,
And, kindly smiling, said, or seem'd to say;
“At length, my Son, the intellectual ray
“Just gleams the hopeful promise of a day.
“With milk diluted, and innoxious bread:
“Permit me then in gentlest strains to give
“Rules to die happy, and contented live;
“And, when thy stomach can strong food digest,
“My prudence shall administer the rest .
“I never leave my children on the road,
“But lead each pilgrim to his blest abode .
“Coy Fortune's absence stings thee to the heart:
“A willing mistress to the young and bold,
“But scornful of the tim'rous and the old:
“Meer lust of change compell'd her to cashire
“Her best-lov'd Pompey in his fiftieth year.
“The frowns of a capricious jilt you mourn,
“Who's thine, or mine, and ev'ry man's by turn:
“Were Fortune constant, she's no more the same,
“But, chang'd in species, takes another name.
“And all the sorceress thy heart beguil'd;
“When ev'ry joy that full possession gave
“Rose to the highest relish man can crave;
“Wast thou then happy to thy soul's desire?—
“Something to seek, and something to require,
“Still, still perplex'd thee, unforeseen before.—
“Thy draughts were mighty, but thy dropsy more .
“'Tis granted, Fortune's vanish'd—and what then?
“Thou'rt still as truly rich as all good men:
“Thy mind's thy own; [if that be calm and ev'n!]—
“Thy faith in Providence, thy funds in Heav'n.
“The Indian only took her jingling bells,
“Her rags of silk, and trumpery of shells:
“Virtue's a plunder of a cumb'rous make
“She cannot, and she does not chuse to take .—
“And, if she leaves thee, speed her on the way;
“For where's the diff'rence, mighty Reas'ner, say,
“When man by death of all things is bereft,
“If he leaves Fortune, or by Fortune's left ?
“Fortune to Galba's door the diadem brought;
“The door was clos'd, and other sons she sought:
“Fortune's a woman, over-fond or blind;
“A step-dame now, and now a mother kind.
“One jarring mass of counter-working strife!
“Vain hopes, which only idiot-minds employ;
“And fancy builds, for fancy to destroy!
“All must be wretched who expect too much;
“Life's chymic-gold proves recreant to the touch.
“Disarms the tyrant, and looks down on kings:
“Makes his own chain that drags him to the grave .”
Inclining, look'd me stedfast in the face.
“Thy pomp, thy wealth, thy villas, left behind,
“Ah, quit these nothings to the hungry tribe;
“States cannot banish thee; they may proscribe.
“The good man's country is in ev'ry clime,
“His God in ev'ry place, at ev'ry time;
“In civiliz'd, or in barbarian lands,
“Wherever virtue breathes, an altar stands !
“Thy prison shocks thee with unusual dread:
“Dark solitude thy wav'ring mind appalls,
“Damp floors, and low-hung roofs, and naked walls.
“Yet here the mind of Socrates could soar;
“And, being less than man, he rose to more.
“Wish not to see new hosts of clients wait
“In rows submissive thro' vast rooms of state;
“Nor, on the litter of coarse rushes spread,
“Lament the absence of thy downy bed:
“Nor grieve thou, that thy plunder'd books afford
“No consolation to their exil'd lord:
“Read thy own heart ; its motions nicely scan;
“There's a sufficient library for man .
“The Book of Providence all truths contains:
“For ever useful, and for ever clear,
“To all men open, and to all men near:
“By tyrants un-suppress'd, untouch'd by fire;
“Old as mankind, and with mankind t'expire .
“And the chaste pride of a once-spotless name:
“But mark, my son, the truths I shall impart,
“And grave them on the tablets of thy heart:
“The first keen stroke th'Unfortunate shall find;
“Is losing the opinion of mankind :
“Slander and accusation take their rise
“From thy declining fortunes, not thy vice.
“Or a rich upstart-villain dis-esteem'd?—
“From chilly shades the gnats of fortune run
“To buz in heat, and twinkle in the sun;
“Till Heav'n [at Heav'n's appointed season kind,]
“Sweeps off th'Egyptian plague with such a wind,
“That not one blood-sucker is left behind.
“Be true to God, and thou art still the same.
“Man cannot give thee virtues thou hast not,
“Nor steal the virtues thou hast truly got.
“Critics un-write whate'er the author writ:
“To a new fate this second life must yield,
“And death will twice be master of the field .
“To see the villain cloath'd, and good man bare;
“To see impiety with pomp enthron'd;—
“[Virtue unsought for, honesty un-own'd:]
“Heav'n's dispensations no man can explore;
“In this, to fathom God, is to be more!
“Meer man but guesses the divine decree;
“The most the Stagyrite himself could see,
“Was the faint glimm'ring of contingency.
“Yet deem not rich men happy, nor the poor
“Unprosp'rous; wait th'event, and judge no more.
“True safety to Heav'n's children must belong:
“With God the rich are weak, the poor are strong.
“Th'irrevocable sanction stands prepar'd;
“Vice has its curse, and virtue its reward .
“Nor shews us the great gulph for Heav'n's high-way.
“We barter honour, and our faith beside:
“Mindless of future bliss, and heav'nly fame,
“We strip and sell the Christian to the name.
“Ambition, like the sea by tempests tost,
“Still makes new conquests for old conquests lost:
“Court-favours lie above the common road
“By modesty and humble virtue trod;
“Like trees on precipices, they display
“Fair fruit, which none can reach but birds of prey.
“They weary earth, and importune the sky;
“Gain riches, and yet 'scape not poverty:
“The once-mean soul preserves its earthly part,
“The beggar's flatt'ry, and the beggar's heart.
“Lov'st thou an object better than thyself?
“You answer, No.—If that, my Son, be true,
“Then give to God the thanks to God are due.
“No man is crown'd the fav'rite of the skies
“Till Heav'n his faith by sharp affliction tries:
“Nor chains, disgrace, nor tyrants can controul
“Th'ability to save th'immortal soul.
“How oft did Seneca deplore his fate,
“Debarr'd that recollection which you hate?
“How often did Papinian waste his breath
“T'implore, like your's, a pausing-time for death ?—
“And suffer with humility of mind:
“As thy prosperities pass'd swift away,
“Just so thy grief shall make a transient stay .
“Is the last hour of human misery.
“Extremes of grief or joy are rarely giv'n,
“And last as rarely, by the will of Heav'n.”
Inspiring confidence as she withdrew.
Here let me close my elegies of woe.
My present object, and my future care;
Be mindful of my children, and thy vows:—
And ['gainst thy judgement] O defend thy Spouse.
My children are my other self to thee:—
Heav'n you distrust if you lament for me.
From a dark prison to free air restor'd?
Admir'd by friends, and envy'd by my foes,
I die, when glory to the highest rose,
If I go further, I descend, or fall.
Hail death, thou lenient cordial of relief;
Preventive of my shame and of my grief!
Kind nature crops me in full virtue's bloom ,
Not left to shrink and wither for the tomb.
Shed not a tear, but vindicate thy pow'r,
Enrich'd like Egypt's soil without a show'r.
Fortune, which gave too much, did soon repine,
There was no Solstice in a course like mine.
With calmness I my bleeding death behold;
Suns set in crimson-streams to rise in gold.
[As more deserving] what it takes from me !—
The peace of conscience, and the peace divine,
Be ever, O thou best of women, thine!
These last convulsions of an husband's heart:
Give us Thy Self; and teach our minds to see
The Saviour and the Paraclete in Thee!
“Quis te felicissimum conjugis pudore non prædicavit?” Philosophiæ Verba ad Boetium. De Consolat. L. II. Pros. 3.
“Vivit Uxor ingenio modesta, pudicitiæ pudore præcellens, et, ut omnes ejus dotes breviter includam, Patri [Symmacho] similis. Vivit inquam, tibique tantum, vitæ hujus exosa, spiritum servat. Quoque uno felicitatem minui tuam vel Ipsa concesserim, tui desiderio lachrymis ac dolore tabescit.” Ejusd. Verba. Ibid. Pros. 4, Edit. Juntarum 1521.
This passage was written in imitation of Ovid's famous description of Galatea, Met. L. XIII. and improved by an hint taken from Dr. Donne's Poems, Page 96, 12mo.
“Quod si quid in nobilitate bonum, id solum esse arbitror, ut imposita nobilibus necessitudo videatur, nè à majorum virtute degenerent.” L. III, Pros. 6.
Odoácer and Theodoric had divided by agreement the kingdom of Italy between them. The latter invited the former to a banquet, and killed him with his own hand.
The precepts of government, comprized in the following lines, and recommended by Boetius, are extracted almost verbatim from Cassiodorus's Letters. Cassiodorus was secretary to Theodoric and Athalaric, kings of the Goths. He was a statesman of great genius, and an author of wonderful invention.
An ancient writer of the Church has justly marked out the difference betwixt a King and a Tyrant: “They have Both (says he) absolute power and abundance of people under their command; but exert their authority and power in a very different manner: For the former seeks only the good of those whom he governs, and hazards all, even his life, that they may live in peace and safety.” He then gives the contrast of their characters in more full detail. Synesius Bishop of Cyrene to the Emperor Arcadius.
The character of a just and pious prince is finely marked by Isaiah, Ch. xvi, v 5. “In mercy shall the throne be established; and he shall upon it in truth, in the tabernacle of David; judging and seeking judgement, and hasting righteousness.”
Much to this purpose is a passage in the Son of Sirach:—“As long as thou livest, and hast breath in thee, give not thyself over to to any. In all thy works keep to thyself the pre-eminence, and leave not a stain in thine honour.” ECCLUS. Ch. xxxiii.
“Ales, caveæ clauditur antro.
“Huic licet illita pocula melle
“Largasque dapes dulci studio
“Ludens hominum cura ministret;
“Si tamen alto saliens tecto
“Nemorum gratas viderit umbras,
“Sparsas pedibus proterit escas;
“Sylvas tantum mœsta requirit.”
Boet. de Consolat. L. III, Metr. 2.
“Vir totus ex sapientia, virtutibusque factus.”
Boet. de Consolat. L. II, Pros. 4. “Socer Symmachus, sanctus, atque actu ipso reverendus.”
Ibid. L. I, Pros. 4.
“In chusing men who are to discharge the highest offices, the safest conduct is to take the man who goes out of his way in order to decline it, and not the man who intrudes boldly for it.” St. Bernard.
“De sceleribus ac fraudibus delatorum recte tu quidem strictim attingendum putasti, quod ea melius uberiusque recognoscentis omnia vulgi celebrentur.” Philosophia loquitur, L. I, Pros. 5.
“Luminibusq; prior rediit vigor.
“Ut cum præcipiti glomerantur sidera Coro
“Nimbosisque polus stetit imbribus:
“Sol latet, ac nondum cœlo venientibus astris
“Desuper in terram nox funditur.
“Hanc, si Threïcio Boreas emissus ab antro
“Verberet, & clausum reserat diem;
“Emicat & subito vibratus lumine Phœbus,
“Mirantes oculos radiis serit.”
L. I, Metr. 3.
“Nec speres aliquid, nec extimescas,
“Exarmaveris impotentis iram.
“At quisquis trepidus pavet, vel optat,
“Nectit, qua valeat trahi, catenam.”
Boet. L. I.
L. I, Pros. 5, Boetius.—
—“Ubicunque virtus;“Heic, puto, templum est.”
Jac. Balde Odæ. “Heav'n, to men well-dispos'd, is ev'ry-where.”
Dr. Donne.
“There are two lessons, which God instills every day into the Faithful: The one is, to see their own faults: The other is, to comprehend the Divine Goodness.” Thom. à Kemp.
“At vero hic etiam nostris malis cumulus accedit, quod existimatio plurimorum non rerum merita, sed fortunæ spectat eventum: eaque tantum judicat esse provisa, quæ felicitas commendaverit. Quo fit, ut existimatio bona, prima omnium deserat infelices.” Boetius, Ibid.
“Si vis beatus esse, cogita hoc primum, contemnere et contemni; nondum es selix, si te turba non deriserit.” Antisthenis Dictum.
“Si ea quæ paulo ante conclusa sunt; inconvulsa sequantur, Ipso, de cujus nunc regno loquimur, Auctore cognosces, semper quidem potentes bonos esse, malos vero abjectos semper & imbecilles; nec sine pœna unquam esse vitia, nec sine præmio virtutes; bonis felicia, malis semper infortunata contingere.” Boetius L. IV, Prosa 1, De Consolat. Philosoph.
“Qui semina virtù, fama raccoglie.”
The Amaranth | ||