Bosworth-field With a Taste of the Variety of Other Poems, Left by Sir John Beaumont ... Set Forth by his Sonne, Sir Iohn Beaumont |
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A Congratulation to the Muses, for the immortalizing of his deare Father, by the sacred Vertue of Poetry.
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A Congratulation to the Muses, for the immortalizing of his deare Father, by the sacred Vertue of Poetry.
Ye heau'nly Sisters, by whose sacred skill,Sweet sounds are rays'd vpon the forked hill
Of high Parnassus: You, whose tuned strings
Can cause the Birds to stay their nimble wings,
And silently admire: before whose feet,
The Lambs, as fearelesse, with the Lions meet.
You, who the Harpe of Orpheus so inspir'd,
That from the Stygian Lake he safe retir'd;
You could Amphions Harpe with vertue fill,
That euen the stones were pliant to his will.
To you, you therefore I my Verse direct,
From whom such beames celestiall can reflect
On that deare Author of my life inspir'd
VVith heauenly heate, and sacred Fury fir'd;
VVhose Vigour, quencht by death, you now reuiue,
And in this Booke conserue him still aliue.
Here liues his better part, here shines that Flame,
VVhich lights the entrance to eternall Fame.
From Aganippe's Fountaines he could bring
Cleare from all drosse, through pure intentions drain'd,
His draughts no sensuall waters euer stain'd.
Behold, he doth on every paper strow
The loyall thoughts he did his Sou'raigne owe.
Here rest affections to each neerest friend,
And pious sighs, which noble thoughts attend;
Parnassus him containes, plast in the Quire
With Poets: what then can we more desire
To haue of him? Perhaps an empty voyce,
While him we wrong with our contentlesse choyce,
To you I this attribute, Sisters nine;
For onely you can cause this VVorke diuine;
By none but you could these bright fires be found;
Prometheus is not from the Rocke vnbound,
No Æsculapius still remaines on earth,
To giue Hippolitus a second birth.
Since then such Godlike pow'rs in you remaine,
To worke these wonders, let some soule containe
His spirit of sweet musicke, and infuse
Into some other brest his sparkling Muse.
But you perhaps, that all your pow'r may speake:
VVill chuse to worke on subiects dull and weake:
Chuse me, inspire my frozen brest with heat,
No Deed you euer wrought, can seeme more great.
Iohn Beaumont.
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