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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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While Hesperus in azure Waggon brought
Millions of Tapers over all the Vault,
These gorgeous Revels to sweet Rest give place,
And the Earths Venus doth Heav'ns Venus trace.
These Spousals past, the King doth nothing minde
But The Lords House; there is his care confin'd:
His Checker's open, hee no cost respects;
But sets a-work the wittiest Architects.

The building of the TEMPLE.

Millions of hands bee busie labouring;

Through all the Woods, wedges and beetles ring:
The tufted tops of sacred Libanon,
To climb Mount Sion, down the stream are gon:
Forrests are saw'd in Transoms, Beams and Somers;
Great Rocks made little, what with Sawes and Hammers:
The sturdy Quar-man with steel-headed Cones
And massie Sledges slenteth out the stones,
Digs through the bowels of th'Earth baked stiff,
Cuts a wide Window through a horned Cliff
Of ruddy Porphyre, or white Alabaster,
And masters Marble, which no Time can master.
One melts the White-stone with the force of Fire:
Another, leveld by the Lesbian Squire,
Deep vnder ground (for the Foundation) ioins
Well-polisht Marble, in long massie Coins;
Such, both for stuff, and for rare artifice,
As might beseem som royall Frontispice.
This heaws a Chapter; that a Frize doth frame;
This carves a Cornich; that prepares a Iambe;
This forms a Plynth; that fits an Architrave;
This planes a Plank: and that the same doth grave,

465

Gives life to Cedars dead, and cunningly
Makes Wood to move, to sigh and speak well-ny:
And others, rearing high the sacred Wall,
By their bould Labours Heav'n it self appall:
Cheerly they work, and ply it in such sort
As if they thought long Summer-daies too-short.
As in Grape-Harvest, with vnweary pains,

Simile.


A willing Troop of merry-singing Swains
With crooked hooks the strouting Clusters cut,
In Frails and Flaskets them as quickly put,
Run bow'd with burdens to the fragrant Fat,
Tumble them in, and after pit-a-pat
Vp to the Waste; and, dancing in the Must,
To th'vnder-Tub a flowry showr doo thrust:
They work a-vie, to th'ey their Work doth growe,
Who saw't i'th' Morning, scarce at Night can knowe
It for the same: and God himself doth seem
T'have taen to task this Work, and work for them
While in the Night sweet Sleep restores with rest
The weary limbs of Work-men over-prest.
Great King, whence cam this Courage (Titan-like)
So many Hils to heap vpon a rick?
What mighty Rowlers, and what massie Cars
Could bring so far so many monstrous Quars?
And, what huge strength of hanging Vaults embow'd
Bears such a waight above the winged Clowd?
If on the out-side I doo cast mine ey,
The Stones are ioyn'd so artificially,
That if the Mason had not checkerd fine

Syrian.

Syre's Alabaster with hard Serpentine,

And hundred Marbles no less fair then firm;
The whole, a whole Quar one might rightly tearm.
If I look In, then scorn I all with-out:
Surpassing Riches shineth all about:
Floor, Sides and Seeling cover'd triple-fould,
Stone lin'd with Cedar, Cedar limn'd with Gould:
And all the Parget carv'd and branched trim
With Flowrs and Fruits, and winged Cherubim.
I over-passe the sacred Implements,
In worth far passing all these Ornaments:
Th'Art answers to the stuff, the stuff to th'vse.
O perfect Artist! thou for Mould didst chuse
The Worlds Idëa: For, as first the same
Was sever'd in a Three-fould divers Frame,
And God Almighty rightly did Ordain
One all Divine, one Heav'nly, one Terrene;
Decking with Vertues one, with Stars another,
With Flowrs, and Fruits, and Beasts, and Birds, the other:

466

And plaid the Painter, when hee did so gild
The turning globes, blew'd seas, and green'd the field,
Gave precious stones so many coloured luster,
Enameld Flowrs, made Metals beam and glister:
The Carver, when hee cut in leaves and stems
Of Plants, such veins, such figures, files and hems:
The Founder, when hee cast so many Forms
Of winged Fowls, of Fish, of Beasts, of Worms:
Thou doost diuide this Sacred House in Three;
Th'Holy of Holies, wherein none may bee
But God, the Cherubins, and (once a year)
The Sacred Figure of Perfection dear,
Of God's eternal Son (Sins sin-less check)
The everlasting true Melchisedec:
The fair mid-Temple, which is ope alone
To Sun-bright Levits, who on Izrael shone
With Rayes of Doctrine; and who, feeding well
On the Lawes Hony, seem in Heav'n to dwell:
And th'vtter Porch, the Peoples residence,
The Vulgars Ile, the World of Elements:
And various Artist honour'st all the Parts
With Myron's, Phidias, and Apelles Arts.
This Pattern pleas'd thee so, th'hast fram'd by it
Th'eternall Watch-births of thy sacred Wit:
Thy pithy Book of Proverbs, richly-graue,
Vnto the Porch may right relation have;
For that it gives vs O economike Lawes,
Rules politike, and private civill Sawes;
And (for the most) those Lessons generall
At Humane matters aim the most of all.
Ecclesiastes the Mid-Temple seems:
It treadeth down what-ever Flesh esteems
Fair, pleasant, precious, glorious, good or great;
Drawes vs from earth, and vs in Heav'n doth seat;
And, all the World proclaiming Vain of Vains,
Mans happinesse in Gods true Fear maintains.
Sanctvm-Sanctorvm is thy Song of Songs,
Where, in Mysterious Verse (as meet belongs)
Thou mariest Iacob to Heav'ns glorious King:
Where, thou (devoted) doost divinely sing
Christ's and his Chvrches Epithalamy:
Where (sweetly rapt in sacred Extasie)
The faithfull Soule talks with her God immense,
Hears his sweet Voice, herself doth quintessence
In the pure flames of his sweet-pearcing eyes
(The Cabinets where Grace and Glory lies)
Enioyes her Ioy, in her chaste bed doth kisse
His holy lips (the Love of Loves) her Blisse.

467

When hee had finisht and had furnisht full
The House of God, so rich, so beautifull;
O God, said Salomon, great Onely-Trine!

Dedication of the Temple.


Which of this Mystike sacred House of Thine
Hast made mee Builder; build mee in the same
A living Stone. For thy dear David's name,
On David's branches David's blisse revive;
That on his Throne his Issue still may thrive.
O All-comprising, None-comprised Prince,
Which art in Heav'n by thy Magnificence,
In Hell by Iustice, each-where by thy Powrs,
Dwell heer, dear Father, by thy grace (to Ours).
If, in a doubtfull Case, one needs must swear,
Loose thou the Knot, and punish thou severe
Th'audacious Perjure; that hence-forth none chance
Tax thee of Malice, or of Ignorance.
If our dis-flowred Trees, our Fields Hail-torn,
Our empty Ears, our light and blasted Corn,
Presage vs Famine; If, with ten-fold chain,
Thy hand hath lockt thy Water-gates of Rain;
And, towards this House wee humbled cast our ey,
Hear vs, O Lord, hear our complaint and cry.
If Captives wee in a strange Land bewail,
If in the Wars our Force and Fortune fail;
And, towards this House wee humbled cast our ey,
Hear vs, O Lord, hear our complaint and cry.
If Strangers, moov'd with rumour of thy Miracles,
Com heer to Offer, to consult thine Oracles,
And in this House to kneel religiously,
Hear them, O Lord, hear their complaint and cry:
Hear them from Heav'n; and, by thy Favors prest,
Draw to Thy Temple, North, South, East and West.
The passe-Man Wisdom of th'Isacian Prince,
A Light so bright, set in such eminence
(Vn-hideable by enuious Arrogance,
Vnder the Bushell of black Ignorance)
Shines every where, illustres every place:
Among the rest it Lightens in the Face
Of the fair Princesse, that with prudent hand
The soft Arabian Scepter doth command,
The Queen of Saba, where continuall Spring

The Queen of Saba.


Red Cinnamon, Incense and Myrrhe doth bring;
Where private men doo Prince-like Treasures hould,
Where Pots bee Silver, Bedsteds beaten Gould,
Where Wals are rough-cast with the richest Stones,
Cast in Devices, Emblems, Scutchions.
Yet, leaving all this Greatnes of her owne,
Shee coms to view the State of Salomon,

468

To hear his Wisdom, and to see his City,
Refuge of Vertues, School of Faith and Pity.

A iust reproofe of all obstinate Recusants.

You that doo shut your eyes against the raies

Of glorious Light, which shineth in our dayes;
Whose spirits, self-obstin'd in old musty Error,
Repulse the Truth (th'Almightie's sacred Mirror)
Which day and night at your deaf Doors doth knock;
Whose stubbornnesse will not at all vn-lock
The sacred Bible, nor so much as look,
To talk with God, into his holy Book:
O, fear you not, that this great Princesse shall
Of thank-less Sloath one day condemne you all?
Who (both a Woman, Queen, and Pagan born)
Ease, Pleasures, Treasures, doth despise and scorn;
To passe with great pains, and with great expence,
Long weary Iourneys full of diffidence;
And nobly trauels to another Land
To hear the words but of a (mortall) Man?
Her Time's not lost: there (rapt) shee doth contemple
The sumptuous beauties of a stately Temple,
The lofty Towrs of hundred Towns in one,
A pompous Palace, and a Peer-less Throne,
Wals rich without; furnisht in richer sort:
Number of Servants doth adorne the Court,
But more their Order. There, no noise is heard,
Each his owne Office onely doth regard:
And (in one instant) as the quaverings
Of a quick Thumb move all the divers strings
Of a sweet Guittern; and, its skill to grace,
Causeth a Treble sound, a Mean, a Base:
So Salomon, discreetly with a beck,
A wink, a word, doth all the Troops direct:
Each of his Servants hath his proper Lesson,
And (after his Degree) each hath his fashion.
This Queen, yer parting from her fragrant Iles,
Arm'd her with Riddles and with witty Wiles,
T'appose the King; and shee resolves shee will
With curious Questions sift and sound his Skill.
But lo what Oedipus! The Law-learn'd Sage,
Which at the Bar hath almost spent his age,
Cannot so soon a common Doubt decide,
Where Statutes, Customs, and Book-Cases guide,
As hee dissolves her Gordian-knots, and sees
Through all her nights, and even at pleasure frees
Such doubts, as doubt-less might haue taskt (t'vntwist)
The Brachman, Druïde, and Gymnosophist:
And knowing, Good becoms more Good, the more
It is en-common'd, hee applies therefore

469

T'instruct her in the Faith; and (enuious-idle)
His brains rich Talent buries not in Idle.
Alas, I pitie you: alas (quoth He)
Poor Soules besotted in Idolatrie,
Who worship Gold and Siluer, Stocks and Stones,
Mens workmanship, and Fiends Illusions;
And, who (by your sage Mages Lore mis-led)
So-many Godlings haue imagined:
Madame, there is but one sole God, most-High,
Th'Eternall King; nay, self-Eternitie.
Infinit, All in all, yet out of all,
Of Ends the End, of Firsts Originall,
Of Lights the Light, Essence surpassing Essence,
Of Powers pure Act, of Acts the very Puissance,
Cause of all Causes, Ocean of all Good,
The Life of Life, and of all Bewty Flood:
None-seen All-Seer, Starr's guide, Sight of Seeing,
The Vni-forme, which giues all forms their Beeing.
God, and One, is all One; whoso the Vnitie
Denies, he (Atheist) disannuls Diuinitie:
Th'Vnitie dwels in God, ith' Fiend the Twine:
The greater World hath but one Sun to shine,
The lesser but one Soule, both but one God,
In Essence One, in Person Trinely-odde.
Of this great Frame, the Parts so due-devis'd,
This Bodie, tun'd so, measur'd, sympathiz'd,
This Temple, where such Wealth and Order meet,
This Art in every part cannot proceed.
But from one Pattern; and that but from one
Author of all, who all preserues alone.
Else should we see in set Batalions
A hundred thousand furious Partizans,
The World would nource civill intestine Wars,
And wrack it selfe in it selfs factious Iars.
Besides, God is an infinite Divinity:
And who can think of more than one Infinity?
Seeing the one restrains the others might,
Or rather reaues its name and beeing quite.
Therefore (O Pagans) why doe you confine
The Infinite in narrow Walls of lime?
Why shut you Him in a base Trunk or Tree?
Why paint you Whom no mortall eye can see?
Why offer you your carnall seruices
Vnto the Lord, who a meer Spirit is?
Why then do you (sayd she) by our example,
Inclose th'Immortall in this earthly Temple?
Lock him within an Arke? and, worse than we,
Feed him with Fumes, and bloody Butchery?

470

This Sacred House so fair (reply'd he then)
Is not to contain God, but godly men
Which worship him: and, we doe not suppose
That He, whose Arms doo Heav'n and Earth inclose,
Is closed in a Chest; but th'ancient Pact,
The solemne Couenant, and the sure Contract,
Which leagues vs with our God, and each with other,
And (holy Bond) holds Heav'n and Earth together.
As for our Incense, Washings, Sacrifices,
They are not (as is thought) Our vain Devices;
But, God's their Author, and himselfe Ordains
These Elements, whereby he entertaines
And feeds our vnderstanding in the hope
Of his deer Son (of all these Things the Scope);
Setting before vs th'Only Sacrifice,
Which in Christ's Blood shall wash-out all our vice.
Come then, O Lord, Come thou Lawes finisher,
Great King, great Prophet, great Selfs-Offerer:
Come, come thou thrice Great Refuge of our State,
Come, thou our Rançome, Iudge and Advocate:
Milde Lamb, Salue-Serpent, Lion generous,
Vn-chalendg'd Vmpire betwixt Heav'n and Vs,
Come thou the Truth, the Substance and the End
Of all our Offrings (whither, all doo tend):
Come O Messias, and doo now begin
To Raign in Sion, to triumph of Sin;
And, worshipped in Spirit and Truth, restore
Vpon the Earth the Golden Age of yore:
Accept this Queen, as of all Heathen Princes
The deer First-Fruits: take on thee our Offences,
That, stript of Adam's sinfull sute, in fine
With sacred Angels we in Heavn'n may shine.
The Queen, nigh sunk in an Amazefull Swoun,
Bespake him thus: My Lord, prattling renown
Is wont in flying to increase so far,
That she proclaims things greater then they are:

Simile.

And, rarest Spirits resemble Pictures right,

Whereof the rarest seem more exquisite,
Far-off, then neer: but, so far as thy Fame
Excels all Kings, thy vertues passe the same:
Thy peer-less Praise stoops to thy Learned tongue,
And envious bruit hath done thy Wisedom wrong.
So may I say, even so (O Scottish King)

Application to the Kings Maiestie.

Thy winged Fame, which far and wide doth ring,

From th'edge of Spain hath made me ventrously
To crosse the Seas, thy Britain's end to see:
Where (Lord!) what saw I? nay, what saw I not?
O King (Heav'n-chosen, for som speciall Plot)

471

World's Miracle, O Oracle of Princes?
I saw so much, my Soule mistrusts my Senses.
A gray-beards Wisedom in an amber-bush,
A Mars-like Courage in a Maid-like blush,
A settled Iudgement with a supple Wit,
A quick Discourse, profound and pleasing yet;
Virgil and Tully, in one spirit infus'd,
And all Heav'ns Gifts into one Head diffus'd.
Persist, O King, glory on glory mount:
And as thy Vertues thine owne Fame surmount,
So let thy future passe thy former more,
And go-before those that have gone-before:
Excell thy self: and, brave, grave, godly Prince,
Confirm my Songs eternall Evidence.