Olor Iscanus A Collection of some Select Poems, and Translations, Formerly written by Mr. Henry Vaughan Silurist. Published by a Friend |
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To Sir William D' avenant, upon his Gondibert. |
 | Olor Iscanus |  |
To Sir William D' avenant, upon his Gondibert.
Well, wee are rescued! and by thy rare Pen
Poets shall live, when Princes dye like men.
Th'hast cleer'd the prospect to our harmless Hill,
Of late years clouded with imputed Ill,
And the Soft, youthfull Couples there may move
As chast as Stars converse and smile above.
Th'hast taught their Language, and their love to flow
Calme as Rose-leafes, and coole as Virgin-snow,
Which doubly feasts us, being so refin'd
They both delight, and dignifie the mind,
Like to the watrie Musick of some Spring,
Whose pleasant flowings at once wash and sing.
Poets shall live, when Princes dye like men.
Th'hast cleer'd the prospect to our harmless Hill,
Of late years clouded with imputed Ill,
And the Soft, youthfull Couples there may move
As chast as Stars converse and smile above.
Th'hast taught their Language, and their love to flow
Calme as Rose-leafes, and coole as Virgin-snow,
Which doubly feasts us, being so refin'd
They both delight, and dignifie the mind,
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Whose pleasant flowings at once wash and sing.
And where bofore Heroick Poems were
Made up of Spirits, Prodigies, and fear,
And shew'd (through all the Melancholy flight,)
Like some dark Region overcast with night,
As if the Poet had been quite dismay'd,
While only Giants and Inchantments sway'd,
Thou like the Sun, whose Eye brooks no disguise
Hast Chas'd them hence, and with Discoveries
So rare and learned fill'd the place, that wee
Those fam'd Grandeza's find out-done by thee,
And under-foot see all those Vizards hurl'd,
Which bred the wonder of the former world.
'Twas dull to sit, as our fore-fathers did,
At Crums and Voyders, and because unbid
Refrain wise appetite. This made thy fire
Break through the ashes of thy aged Sire
To lend the world such a Convincing light
As shewes his fancy darker than his sight.
Nor was't alone the bars and length of dayes
(Though those gave strength and stature to his bayes,)
Encounter'd thee, but what's an old Complaint
And kills the fancy, a forlorn Restraint;
How couldst thou mur'd in solitarie stones
Dresse BIRTHA'S similes, though well thou might'st her grones?
And, strangely Eloquent, thy self divide
'Twixt Sad mi fortunes, and a Bloomie Bride?
Through all the tenour of thy ample Song
Spun from thy own rich store, and shar'd among
Those fa'r Adventurers, we plainly see
Th'Imputed gifts, Inherent are in thee.
Then live for ever (and by high defert)
In thy own mirrour, matchless Gondibert,
And in bright Birtha leave thy love Inshrin'd
Fresh as her Emrauld, and fair as her mind,
While all Confesse thee (as they ought to doe)
The Prince of Poets, and of Lovers too.
Made up of Spirits, Prodigies, and fear,
And shew'd (through all the Melancholy flight,)
Like some dark Region overcast with night,
As if the Poet had been quite dismay'd,
While only Giants and Inchantments sway'd,
Thou like the Sun, whose Eye brooks no disguise
Hast Chas'd them hence, and with Discoveries
So rare and learned fill'd the place, that wee
Those fam'd Grandeza's find out-done by thee,
And under-foot see all those Vizards hurl'd,
Which bred the wonder of the former world.
'Twas dull to sit, as our fore-fathers did,
At Crums and Voyders, and because unbid
Refrain wise appetite. This made thy fire
Break through the ashes of thy aged Sire
To lend the world such a Convincing light
As shewes his fancy darker than his sight.
Nor was't alone the bars and length of dayes
(Though those gave strength and stature to his bayes,)
Encounter'd thee, but what's an old Complaint
And kills the fancy, a forlorn Restraint;
How couldst thou mur'd in solitarie stones
Dresse BIRTHA'S similes, though well thou might'st her grones?
And, strangely Eloquent, thy self divide
'Twixt Sad mi fortunes, and a Bloomie Bride?
Through all the tenour of thy ample Song
Spun from thy own rich store, and shar'd among
Those fa'r Adventurers, we plainly see
Th'Imputed gifts, Inherent are in thee.
Then live for ever (and by high defert)
In thy own mirrour, matchless Gondibert,
And in bright Birtha leave thy love Inshrin'd
Fresh as her Emrauld, and fair as her mind,
While all Confesse thee (as they ought to doe)
The Prince of Poets, and of Lovers too.
| Olor Iscanus | |