The works of Sr William Davenant ... Consisting of Those which were formerly Printed, and Those which he design'd for the Press: Now published Out of the Authors Originall Copies |
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To my Friend Mr. Ogilby,
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 | The works of Sr William Davenant |  |
To my Friend Mr. Ogilby,
Upon the Fables of Æsop Paraphras'd in Verse.
In Empires Childhood, and the dawne of Arts,
When God in Temples dwelt not, but in Hearts,
When Men might Teachers by their deeds believe,
When Power rob'd none, nor Science did deceive;
Nor soaring Thought wildly to Heaven did fly,
Searching Records which in Gods Closet lie;
To know (since none like God eternal were)
How his dominion could at first appeare?
Presuming, he nor honor had nor sway
Before some liv'd to worship and obey.
When God in Temples dwelt not, but in Hearts,
When Men might Teachers by their deeds believe,
When Power rob'd none, nor Science did deceive;
Nor soaring Thought wildly to Heaven did fly,
Searching Records which in Gods Closet lie;
To know (since none like God eternal were)
How his dominion could at first appeare?
Presuming, he nor honor had nor sway
Before some liv'd to worship and obey.
Vaine thought! could Man doubt God was e're alone.
Whose severall being to himself were known?
Whose severall being to himself were known?
Or, if he Power could want, it must but be
Because he could not make fit Companie
To tend his own perfections; which were more
Then now best Soules can perfectly adore:
Or could he, if alone, feele want of sway
Who Worlds could make, and make those Worlds obay?
For what he since created argues more
His Love of doing good then love of Pow'r.
Nor so could God mistake, as to believe
That to be honour which his Creatures give;
Nor could he then, since honour is respect,
Want honor till himself he did neglect,
For if it might be said, he was alone,
Yet to himself his Excellence was known;
Which was so great, that if himself could raise
His honour higher with his own just praise,
He was himself his own abundant Theme,
And only could himself enough esteeme.
But these vex thoughts, which Schooles unquiet make,
And like to madness keep their Soules awake,
Took rest, and slept, in infancy of Time,
And with seal'd eyes did never upward climbe.
Because he could not make fit Companie
To tend his own perfections; which were more
Then now best Soules can perfectly adore:
Or could he, if alone, feele want of sway
Who Worlds could make, and make those Worlds obay?
For what he since created argues more
His Love of doing good then love of Pow'r.
Nor so could God mistake, as to believe
That to be honour which his Creatures give;
308
Want honor till himself he did neglect,
For if it might be said, he was alone,
Yet to himself his Excellence was known;
Which was so great, that if himself could raise
His honour higher with his own just praise,
He was himself his own abundant Theme,
And only could himself enough esteeme.
But these vex thoughts, which Schooles unquiet make,
And like to madness keep their Soules awake,
Took rest, and slept, in infancy of Time,
And with seal'd eyes did never upward climbe.
To study God, God's Student, Man, was made;
To read him as in Natures Text convay'd
Not as in Heaven, but as he did descend
To Earth, his easier Book; where, to suspend
And save his Miracles, each little Flower,
And lesser Fly, shews his familiar power.
Then usefully the Studious World was wise,
Not learn'd, as now in useless subtilties.
Truth, naked then, not arm'd with Eloquence,
Walk'd safe, because all rose in her defence.
But now the gravest Schools, through Pride contend;
And Truth awhile, at last themselves defend.
So vext is now the World with Misteries,
Since prouder Mindes drest Truth in Arts disguise;
And so Serene and Calme was Empire then,
Whilst Statesmen study'd Beasts to govern Men.
Accurst be Ægypt's Priests, who first through Pride
And Avarice this common Light did hide:
To Temples did this Morall Text confine,
And made it hard, to make it seeme Divine:
In Creatures formes a fancy'd Deity
They drew, and rais'd the Mysterie so high,
As all to reach it did require their aid;
For which they were, as hir'd Expounders, pay'd.
This Clouded Text, which but to few was known,
In time grew darker, and was read by none;
So weak of Wing is Soaring Mystery;
And Learning's light goes out, when held too high:
To read him as in Natures Text convay'd
Not as in Heaven, but as he did descend
To Earth, his easier Book; where, to suspend
And save his Miracles, each little Flower,
And lesser Fly, shews his familiar power.
Then usefully the Studious World was wise,
Not learn'd, as now in useless subtilties.
Truth, naked then, not arm'd with Eloquence,
Walk'd safe, because all rose in her defence.
But now the gravest Schools, through Pride contend;
And Truth awhile, at last themselves defend.
So vext is now the World with Misteries,
Since prouder Mindes drest Truth in Arts disguise;
And so Serene and Calme was Empire then,
Whilst Statesmen study'd Beasts to govern Men.
Accurst be Ægypt's Priests, who first through Pride
And Avarice this common Light did hide:
To Temples did this Morall Text confine,
And made it hard, to make it seeme Divine:
In Creatures formes a fancy'd Deity
They drew, and rais'd the Mysterie so high,
As all to reach it did require their aid;
For which they were, as hir'd Expounders, pay'd.
This Clouded Text, which but to few was known,
In time grew darker, and was read by none;
So weak of Wing is Soaring Mystery;
And Learning's light goes out, when held too high:
But blest be Æsop, whom the wise adore,
Who this dark Science did to light restore;
Which though obscur'd, when rais'd and made Divine,
Yet soon did in his humble Moralls shine.
For that which was by Art for Profit hid,
And to the Laitie, as to Spies, forbid,
He, as the hireless Priest of Nature, brought
From Temples, and her doctrine freely taught;
Whilst even to Beasts, Men, blushing, seem'd asham'd
That Men by Beasts he counsell'd and reclaim'd.
Who this dark Science did to light restore;
Which though obscur'd, when rais'd and made Divine,
Yet soon did in his humble Moralls shine.
For that which was by Art for Profit hid,
And to the Laitie, as to Spies, forbid,
He, as the hireless Priest of Nature, brought
From Temples, and her doctrine freely taught;
Whilst even to Beasts, Men, blushing, seem'd asham'd
That Men by Beasts he counsell'd and reclaim'd.
Blest be our Poet too! whose Fire hath made
Grave Æsop warme in Deaths detested shade.
Though Verses are but Fetters deem'd by those
Who endless journeys make in wandring Prose;
Yet in thy Verse, methinks, I Æsop see
Less bound than when his Master made him free:
So well thou fitt'st the measure of his Minde,
Which, though the Slave, his body, were confin'd,
Seem'd, as thy Wit, still unconstrain'd, and young,
And like thy numbers easie, and as strong.
Or as thy Muse in her Satyrick strain
Doth spare the person, whilst the Vice is slain,
So his rebukes, though sharp, were kind and grave,
Like Judges, chiding those whom they would save.
Thus since your equall Souls so well agree,
I needs must paint his Minde in drawing thee.
Be both renown'd! and whilst you Nature Preach,
May Art ne'r raise your Text above our reach.
Your Moralls will (they are so subt'ly plain)
Convince the subtile, and the Simple gaine;
So pleasant too, that we more pleasure take
(Though only pleasure doth our Vices make)
To hear our Sins rebuk'd with so much Wit,
Than er'e we took when those we did commit.
Laws do in vaine with force our wills invade;
Since you can Conquer when you but Perswade.
Grave Æsop warme in Deaths detested shade.
Though Verses are but Fetters deem'd by those
Who endless journeys make in wandring Prose;
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Less bound than when his Master made him free:
So well thou fitt'st the measure of his Minde,
Which, though the Slave, his body, were confin'd,
Seem'd, as thy Wit, still unconstrain'd, and young,
And like thy numbers easie, and as strong.
Or as thy Muse in her Satyrick strain
Doth spare the person, whilst the Vice is slain,
So his rebukes, though sharp, were kind and grave,
Like Judges, chiding those whom they would save.
Thus since your equall Souls so well agree,
I needs must paint his Minde in drawing thee.
Be both renown'd! and whilst you Nature Preach,
May Art ne'r raise your Text above our reach.
Your Moralls will (they are so subt'ly plain)
Convince the subtile, and the Simple gaine;
So pleasant too, that we more pleasure take
(Though only pleasure doth our Vices make)
To hear our Sins rebuk'd with so much Wit,
Than er'e we took when those we did commit.
Laws do in vaine with force our wills invade;
Since you can Conquer when you but Perswade.
| The works of Sr William Davenant | |