The Passionate Poet With a Description of the Thracian Ismarus. By T. P. [i.e. Thomas Powell] |
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The Cyprus. |
 | The Passionate Poet |  |
The Cyprus.
Scene resound the policie,
Of th' Italian Cyprus tree.
Of th' Italian Cyprus tree.
It was no Thracian tree before our time,
But forraigne Cyprus and a transmarine,
Transfer'd from Italy to Ismarus,
Or from those parts of France which are adust
With heat and bee't I am no Florentine,
Ile speake the pollicie that's Cuprespine.
This stranger tree, it is a Plant for kind,
That from an others roote doth euer climbe
Ingrafted and it growes as secretly,
Yea, makes no outward shew of surquedrie:
Discern'd from other trees and specifi'd,
For speciall subtiltie that's vndescri'd:
Of body naked, while t'is yet vpright,
But when she shall aspire her greatest height,
She apprehends the opportunest wether,
And then puts forth her branch and fruit together:
To hide that indirectnes she applies,
Whil'st in concealing teguments it lies.
How like an Adder wreathing many wayes,
Compells her length when she expects her prayes,
Administring the more encouragement,
To traine him in the circuite of extent?
So manifolded is the Cyprus tree
Vnder those branches: such her obloquie.
That wealth compos'd fils vp the continent,
Which none but she discernes or deprehend.
T'is sweet in sente, O who can feed vpon
Perfumed words, but some Cameleon?
It is no restauration, nor receiu'd
Into the body when it is agrieu'd:
T'is brieflie to her selfe most prouident,
But vnto others alwayes fraudulent;
Professing what it is deni'd to be,
And still concealing her abilitie.
The heathen Gentiles only vs'd the same,
When they consum'd their dead in Cyprus flame,
Or made them Idols out of Cyprus tree,
As best beseeming such Imagerie.
Time was they vsde it, and t'was onely Gentile,
And then Religion was but in the simple,
And knew not how for disputations sake,
T'impugne the Godhead or religious state:
But now religious and the most prophane
Partake one Idol and one Cyprus flame.
Such are these latter times, that would improue
More constancie then all the Spheres they moue.
I blame the times, and wreake that ill on them,
That appertaines vnto the sonnes of men,
Time-studious men: O had I libertie
To reprehend them, as I challenge thee.
But forraigne Cyprus and a transmarine,
Transfer'd from Italy to Ismarus,
Or from those parts of France which are adust
With heat and bee't I am no Florentine,
Ile speake the pollicie that's Cuprespine.
This stranger tree, it is a Plant for kind,
That from an others roote doth euer climbe
Ingrafted and it growes as secretly,
Yea, makes no outward shew of surquedrie:
Discern'd from other trees and specifi'd,
For speciall subtiltie that's vndescri'd:
Of body naked, while t'is yet vpright,
But when she shall aspire her greatest height,
She apprehends the opportunest wether,
And then puts forth her branch and fruit together:
To hide that indirectnes she applies,
Whil'st in concealing teguments it lies.
How like an Adder wreathing many wayes,
Compells her length when she expects her prayes,
Administring the more encouragement,
To traine him in the circuite of extent?
So manifolded is the Cyprus tree
Vnder those branches: such her obloquie.
That wealth compos'd fils vp the continent,
Which none but she discernes or deprehend.
Perfumed words, but some Cameleon?
It is no restauration, nor receiu'd
Into the body when it is agrieu'd:
T'is brieflie to her selfe most prouident,
But vnto others alwayes fraudulent;
Professing what it is deni'd to be,
And still concealing her abilitie.
The heathen Gentiles only vs'd the same,
When they consum'd their dead in Cyprus flame,
Or made them Idols out of Cyprus tree,
As best beseeming such Imagerie.
Time was they vsde it, and t'was onely Gentile,
And then Religion was but in the simple,
And knew not how for disputations sake,
T'impugne the Godhead or religious state:
But now religious and the most prophane
Partake one Idol and one Cyprus flame.
Such are these latter times, that would improue
More constancie then all the Spheres they moue.
I blame the times, and wreake that ill on them,
That appertaines vnto the sonnes of men,
Time-studious men: O had I libertie
To reprehend them, as I challenge thee.
| The Passionate Poet | |