Thalia Rediviva The Pass-times and Diversions of a Countrey-muse, In Choice Poems on several Occasions. With Some Learned Remains of the Eminent Eugenius Philalethes. Never made Publick till now [by Henry Vaughan] |
 |
|
| 1. |
| II. |
| III. |
|
|
|
|
DAPHNIS.
|
 | Thalia Rediviva |  |
DAPHNIS.
An Elegiac Eclogue.
The Interlocutors, Damon, Menalcas.Da.
What clouds, Menalcas, do oppress thy brow?
Flow'rs in a Sunshine never look so low.
Is Nisa still cold Flint? or have thy Lambs
Met with the Fox by straying from their Dams?
Men.
Ah! Damon, no; my Lambs are safe, & she
Is kind, and much more white than they can be.
But what doth life, when most serene, afford
Without a worm, which gnaws her fairest gourd?
Our days of gladness are but short reliefs,
Giv'n to reserve us for enduring griefs.
So smiling Calms close Tempests breed, wch break
Like spoilers out, and kill our flocks, when weak.
Is kind, and much more white than they can be.
But what doth life, when most serene, afford
Without a worm, which gnaws her fairest gourd?
Our days of gladness are but short reliefs,
Giv'n to reserve us for enduring griefs.
So smiling Calms close Tempests breed, wch break
Like spoilers out, and kill our flocks, when weak.
I heard last May (and May is still high Spring,)
The pleasant Philomel her Vespers sing.
The green wood glitter'd with the golden Sun
And all the West like Silver shin'd; not one
Black cloud, no rags, nor spots did stain
The Welkins beauty: nothing frown'd like rain;
But e're night came, that Scene of fine sights turn'd
To fierce dark showrs; the Air with lightnings burn'd;
The woods sweet Syren rudely thus opprest,
Gave to the Storm her weak and weary Breast.
I saw her next day on her last cold bed;
And Daphnis so, just so is Daphnis dead!
The pleasant Philomel her Vespers sing.
68
And all the West like Silver shin'd; not one
Black cloud, no rags, nor spots did stain
The Welkins beauty: nothing frown'd like rain;
But e're night came, that Scene of fine sights turn'd
To fierce dark showrs; the Air with lightnings burn'd;
The woods sweet Syren rudely thus opprest,
Gave to the Storm her weak and weary Breast.
I saw her next day on her last cold bed;
And Daphnis so, just so is Daphnis dead!
Da.
So Violets, so doth the Primrose fall,
At once the Springs pride and its funeral.
Such easy sweets get off still in their prime,
And stay not here, to wear the soil of Time.
While courser Flow'rs (which none would miss, if past;
To scorching Summers, and cold Autumns last.
Men.
Souls need not time, the early forward things
Are always fledg'd, and gladly use their Wings,
Or else great parts, when injur'd quit the Crowd,
To shine above still, not behind the Cloud.
And is't not just to leave those to the night,
That madly hate, and persecute the light?
Who doubly dark, all Negroes do exceed,
And inwardly are true black Moores indeed.
Da,
The punishment still manifests the Sin,
As outward signs shew the disease within.
While worth opprest mounts to a nobler height,
And Palm-like bravely overtops the weight.
As outward signs shew the disease within.
While worth opprest mounts to a nobler height,
And Palm-like bravely overtops the weight.
69
So where swift Isca from our lofty hills
With lowd farewels descends, and foming fills
A wider Channel, like some great port-vein,
With large rich streams to feed the humble plain:
I saw an Oak, whose stately height and shade
Projected far, a goodly shelter made,
And from the top with thick diffused Boughs
In distant rounds grew, like a Wood-nymphs house.
Here many Garlands won at Roundel-lays
Old shepheards hung up in those happy days,
With knots and girdles, the dear spoils and dress
Of such bright maids, as did true lovers bless.
And many times had old Amphion made
His beauteous Flock acquainted with this shade;
A Flock, whose fleeces were as smooth and white
As those, the wellkin shews in Moonshine night.
Here, when the careless world did sleep, have I
In dark records and numbers noblie high
The visions of our black, but brightest Bard
From old Amphion's mouth full often heard;
With all those plagues poor shepheards since have known,
And Ridles more, which future times must own.
While on his pipe young Hylas plaid, and made
Musick as solemn as the song and shade.
But the curs'd owner from the trembling top
To the firm brink, did all those branches lop,
And in one hour what many years had bred,
The pride and beauty of the plain lay dead.
The undone Swains in sad songs mourn'd their loss,
While storms & cold winds did improve the Cross.
But Nature, which (like vertue) scorns to yield
Brought new recruits and succours to the Field;
For by next Spring the check'd Sap wak'd from sleep
And upwards still to feel the Sun did creep,
Till at those wounds, the hated Hewer made,
There sprang a thicker and a fresher shade.
With lowd farewels descends, and foming fills
A wider Channel, like some great port-vein,
With large rich streams to feed the humble plain:
I saw an Oak, whose stately height and shade
Projected far, a goodly shelter made,
And from the top with thick diffused Boughs
In distant rounds grew, like a Wood-nymphs house.
Here many Garlands won at Roundel-lays
Old shepheards hung up in those happy days,
With knots and girdles, the dear spoils and dress
Of such bright maids, as did true lovers bless.
And many times had old Amphion made
His beauteous Flock acquainted with this shade;
A Flock, whose fleeces were as smooth and white
As those, the wellkin shews in Moonshine night.
Here, when the careless world did sleep, have I
In dark records and numbers noblie high
The visions of our black, but brightest Bard
From old Amphion's mouth full often heard;
With all those plagues poor shepheards since have known,
And Ridles more, which future times must own.
While on his pipe young Hylas plaid, and made
Musick as solemn as the song and shade.
But the curs'd owner from the trembling top
To the firm brink, did all those branches lop,
And in one hour what many years had bred,
The pride and beauty of the plain lay dead.
The undone Swains in sad songs mourn'd their loss,
While storms & cold winds did improve the Cross.
But Nature, which (like vertue) scorns to yield
Brought new recruits and succours to the Field;
70
And upwards still to feel the Sun did creep,
Till at those wounds, the hated Hewer made,
There sprang a thicker and a fresher shade.
Men.
So thrives afflicted Truth! and so the light,
When put out, gains a value from the Night.
How glad are we, when but one twinkling Star
Peeps betwixt clouds, more black than is our Tar?
And Providence was kind, that order'd this
To the brave Suff'rer should be solid bliss;
Nor is it so till this short life be done,
But goes hence with him, and is still his Sun.
Da.
Come Shepherds then, and with your greenest Bays
Refresh his dust, who lov'd your learned Lays.
Bring here the florid glories of the Spring,
And as you strew them pious Anthems sing,
Which to your children and the years to come
May speak of Daphnis, and be never dumb.
While prostrate I drop on his quiet Urn
My Tears, not gifts; and like the poor, that mourn
With green, but humble Turfs; write o're his Hearse
For false, foul Prose-men this fair Truth in Verse.
Refresh his dust, who lov'd your learned Lays.
Bring here the florid glories of the Spring,
And as you strew them pious Anthems sing,
Which to your children and the years to come
May speak of Daphnis, and be never dumb.
While prostrate I drop on his quiet Urn
My Tears, not gifts; and like the poor, that mourn
With green, but humble Turfs; write o're his Hearse
For false, foul Prose-men this fair Truth in Verse.
“Here Daphnis sleeps! & while the great watch goes
“Of loud and restless Time, takes his repose.
“Fame is but noise, all Learning but a thought:
“Which one admires, another sets at nought.
“Nature mocks both, and Wit still keeps adoe;
“but Death brings knowledge and assurance too.
“Of loud and restless Time, takes his repose.
“Fame is but noise, all Learning but a thought:
“Which one admires, another sets at nought.
“Nature mocks both, and Wit still keeps adoe;
“but Death brings knowledge and assurance too.
71
Cast in your Garlands, strew on all the flow'rs
Which May with smiles, or April feeds with show'rs.
Let this days Rites as stedfast as the Sun
Keep pace with Time, and through all Ages run.
The publick character and famous Test
Of our long sorrows and his lasting rest;
And when we make procession on the plains,
Or yearly keep the Holyday of Swains,
Let Daphnis still be the recorded name
And solemn honour of our feasts and fame.
For though the Isis and the prouder Thames
Can shew his reliques lodg'd hard by their streams,
And must for ever to the honour'd name
Of Noble Murrey chiefly owe that fame:
Yet, here his Stars first saw him, and when fate
Beckon'd him hence, it knew no other date.
Nor will these vocal Woods and Valleys fail,
Nor Isca's lowder Streams this to bewail,
But while Swains hope and Seasons change, will glide
With moving murmurs, because Daphnis di'd.
Da.
A fatal sadness, such as still foregoes,
Then runs along with publick plagues and woes,
Lies heavy on us, and the very light
Turn'd Mourner too, hath the dull looks of Night.
Our vales like those of Death, a darkness shew
More sad than Cypress, or the gloomy Yew,
And on our hills, where health with height complied,
Thick drowsie Mists hang round and there reside.
Not one short parcel of the tedious year
In its old dress and beauty doth appear;
72
Thrust down their Heads, which to the Root still tend,
And though the Sun like a cold Lover, peeps
A little at them, still the Days-eye sleeps.
But when the Crab and Lion with acute
And active Fires their sluggish heat recruit,
Our grass straight russets, and each scorching day
Drinks up our Brooks as fast as dew in May.
Till the sad Heardsman with his Cattel faints,
And empty Channels ring with loud Complaints.
Men.
Heaven's just displeasure & our unjust ways
Change Natures course, bring plagues dearth and decays.
This turns our lands to Dust, the skies to Brass,
Makes old kind blessings into curses pass.
And when we learn unknown and forraign Crimes,
Brings in the vengeance due unto those Climes.
The dregs and puddle of all ages now
Like Rivers near their fall, on us do flow.
Ah happy Daphnis! who, while yet the streams
Ran clear & warm (though but with setting beams,)
Got through: and saw by that declining light
His toil's and journey's end before the Night.
Da.
A night, where darkness lays her chains and Bars,
And feral fires appear instead of Stars.
But he along with the last looks of day
Went hence, and setting (Sun-like) past away.
What future storms our present sins do hatch
Some in the dark discern, and others watch;
Though foresight makes no Hurricane prove mild;
Fury that's long fermenting, is most wild.
And feral fires appear instead of Stars.
But he along with the last looks of day
Went hence, and setting (Sun-like) past away.
What future storms our present sins do hatch
Some in the dark discern, and others watch;
73
Fury that's long fermenting, is most wild.
But see, while thus our sorrows we discourse,
Phœbus hath finish't his diurnal course.
The shades prevail, each Bush seems bigger grown:
Darkness (like State,) makes small things swell and frown.
The Hills and Woods with Pipes and Sonnets round
And bleating sheep our Swains drive home, resound.
Phœbus hath finish't his diurnal course.
The shades prevail, each Bush seems bigger grown:
Darkness (like State,) makes small things swell and frown.
The Hills and Woods with Pipes and Sonnets round
And bleating sheep our Swains drive home, resound.
Men.
What voice from yonder Lawn tends hither? heark!
'Tis Thyrsis calls, I hear Lycanthe bark.
His Flocks left out so late, and weary grown
Are to the Thickets gone, and there laid down.
Da.
Menalcas, haste to look them out, poor sheep
When day is done, go willingly to sleep.
And could bad Man his time spend, as they do,
He might go sleep, or die, as willing too.
Men.
Farewel kind Damon! now the Shepheards Star
With beauteous looks smiles on us, though from far.
All creatures that were favourites of day
Are with the Sun retir'd and gone away.
While feral Birds send forth unpleasant notes,
And night (the Nurse of thoughts,) sad thoughts promotes.
But Joy will yet come with the morning-light,
Though sadly now we bid good night!
Da.
good night!
| Thalia Rediviva | |