The works of Sr William Davenant :: :: University of Virginia Library

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

D'Avenant, William (1606-1668)

[dedication]

GONDIBERT:

TO Sr WILL. D'AVENANT,

TO Sir WILLIAM D'AVENANT,

THE SECOND BOOK.

To my worthy Friend Mr. William D'avenant; upon his Poem of Madagascar, which he writ to the most Illustrious Prince Rupert.

To my Friend William D'avenant; upon his Poem of Madagascar.

On his other Poems.

To Will. D'avenant my Friend.

To my Friend, William D'avenant.

Madagascar. A POEM,

ELIZIUM.

To the Lord D. L. upon his Marriage.

A Journey into Worcestershire.

To Endimion Porter.

To the Queen, entertain'd at night by the Countess of Anglesey.

In remembrance of Master William Shakespire.

To the Lady Bridget Kingsmill sent with Mellons after a report of my Death.

To the King on Newyeares day. 1630.

To the Queen, presented with a Suit, in the behalf of F. S. directed from Orpheus Prince of Poets.

To the Lord B. in performance of a vow, that night to write to him.

To Endimion Porter.

Jeffereidos, on the Captivity of Jeffery.

Canto the First.

Canto the Second.

For the Lady Olivia Porter; A Present upon a New-years day.

To I. C. Robb'd by his Man Andrew.

To the Earl of Portland, Lord Treasurer; on the Marriage of his Son.

The Queen returning to London, after a long absence.

To I. W. upon the death of his Mistress.

To Endimion Porter.

Epitaph on I. Walker.

To Doctor Cademan, Physitian to the Queen.

To Endimion Porter, when my Comedy (call'd the Wits) was presented at Black-Fryers.

In celebration of the yearly Preserver of the Games Costwald.

On the Death of the Lady Marquess of Winchester.

To Endimion Porter, upon his recovery from a long Sickness.

Upon the Nuptials of Charles Lord Herbert, and the Lady M. Villers

Prologue to a reviv'd Play of Mr. Fletchers, call'd, The Woman-hater.

To Endimion Porter, passing to Court to him by Water.

Elegie on B. Haselrick, slain in's youth, in a Duell.

To the QUEEN upon a New-years day.

Elegie,

To Endimion Porter.

To the Countess of Carlile, on the death of the Earle her Husband.

Epilogue, to LOVE and HONOR, A Tragicomedy.

Epilogue, to a Vacation Play at the Globe.

To the QUEEN, upon a New-yeares day.

To Edward Earl of Dorset, after his Sickness, and happy Recovery.

Written, when Collonel Goring was believ'd to be slain at the Siege of Breda.

To the Lord Cary of Lepington, upon his Translation of Malvezzi.

To Henry Jarmin.

To Tho. Carew.

To Doctor Duppa Dean of Christ-Church, and Tutor to the Prince. An acknowledgment for his Collection, in Honour of Ben. Johnson's Memory.

To his Excellency the Lord General Monck.

POEM upon His Sacred Majestie's most happy Return to His Dominions.

POEM to the Kings most Sacred Majesty.

POEMS

POEM TO THE Earl of Orrery.

To him who Prophecy'd a Succesles end of the Parliament, in the Year 1630.

The Countess of ANGLESEY lead Captive by the Rebels, at the Disforresting of Pewsam.

The long Vacation in London, in Verse Burlesque, or Mock-Verse.

EPITAPH.

Song.

Upon the Marriage of the Lady Jane Cavendish with Mr. Cheney.

To the Duke of Richmond, in the Year 1639.

To Mr, W. M. Against Absence.

A New-years-Gift to the Queen, in the Year 1643.

To the QUEEN; Entertain'd at Night. In the Year 1644.

Sung as a Prologue when the faithful Shepherdess was Presented.

EPITAPH.

Master Serjeant's Clients

To my Friend Mr. Ogilby,

SONG.

To Mr. Edward Laurence.

EPITHALAMIUM.

The DREAME.

To the Earle of Monmouth.

EPITAPH

To Edward Earl of Dorset.

SONG.

In the Person of a Spy,

Against Womens pride.

To the Dutchess of Buckingham.

SONG.

Sent with a Lock of Hair.

The Philosopher and the Lover; to a Mistress dying.

SONG.

To Mistress E. S. Married to an old Usurer.

To Mr. Benlowes, on his Divine Poem.

Epitaph on a young Virgin.

To all Poets upon the recovery of Endimion Porter from a long Sickness.

The Mistress.

The Philosophers Disquisition directed to the Dying Christian.

The Christians Reply to the Phylosopher.

To the Lord Lieutenant of Ireland.

To Clelia.

A BALLAD.

Prologue for the Temple: at the Acting of Fivehours Adventure, to my Lord Chancelor.

EPILOGUE to the King at Whitehall, at the Acting the Siege of Rhodes.

EPILOGUE to the Villain;

The First Dayes Entertainment at Rutland-House, by Declamations and Musick: after the manner of the Ancients.

Cœlum Britannicum, A Masque at Whitehal in the Banquetting-House, on Shrove-Tuesday night, the 18 of February 1633

The TEMPLE of LOVE A Masque. Presented by the Queens Majesty, and her Ladies at Whitehall.

[section]

The Song after they have retir'd (playing on their Instruments) by the Chorus of Poets.

The Entry of the Magicians.

The Antimask of the Spirits.

3-4.

The Song of the Brachmani, in Answer to Orpheus his Harp.

[section]

The SONG.

The Song.

The Triumphs of the Prince D'Amour. A Masque Presented by his Highness at his Palace in the Middle Temple.

Collapse All | Expand All expand section

THE SECOND BOOK.

Canto the First.

The ARGUMENT.

Verona by the Poet's Pencil drawn;
Where Hurgonil did meet the early dawn:
Her wealth shown by each Dwellers early'r care;
Which sown by others peace, she reap'd by warr.
The slain, whose life her safety was and pride,
Are now in death their Fun'ral Rites deny'd.

1

Neer to his Evening Region was the Sun,
When Hurgonil with his lamented Load,
And faithful Tybalt their sad march begun
To Fair Verona, where the Court aboad.

2

They slowly rode till Night's dominion ceast;
When Infant Morn (her scarce wak'd beames display'd)
With a scant face peep'd shylie through the East,
And seem'd as yet of the black world afraid.

3

But by increase of swift expansive light,
The lost Horizon was apparent grown,
And many Tow'rs salute at once their sight;
The distant glories of a Royal Town.

4

Verona, sprung from noble Vera's name;
Whom careless Time (still scatt'ring old Records
Where they are loosly gather'd up by Fame)
Proclaimes the chief of ancient Tuscan Lords.

5

Verona borders on that fatal Plaine,
VVhose barren thirst was quench'd with valiant blood,
When the rough Cymbrians by fierce Marius slain,
Left Hills of Bodies where their Ensignes stood.

6

So safely proud this Town did now appear;
As if it but immortal Dwellers lack'd;
As if Theodorick had ne'r been there,
Nor Attila her wealth and beauty sack'd.

7

Here Hurgonill might follow with his Eye
(As with deep streame it through the City pass't)
The fruitfull and the frighted Adice,
Which thence from Noise and Nets to sea does haste.

8

And on her peopled Bank they might behold
The Toyles of conquest paid with workes of pride;
The Pallace of King Agilulf the old,
Or Monument, for ere 'twas built he dy'd.

9

To it that Temple joynes, whose lofty Head
The prospect of a swelling Hill commands;
In whose coole wombe the City springs are bred:
On Dorique Pillers this tall Temple stands.

10

This to sooth Heav'n the bloody Clephes built;
As if Heav'ns King so soft and easie were,
So meanly hous'd in Heav'n, and kind to guilt,
That he would be a Tyrants Tenant here.

11

And now they might arrest their wandring sight
With that which makes all other Objects lost;
Makes Lombard greatness flat to Roman height,
And Modern Builders blush, that else would boast;

12

An Amphytheater which was controll'd
Unheeded conquests of advancing Age,
Windes which have made the trembling World look old,
And the fierce Tempests of the Gothick rage.

13

This great Flaminius did in youth erect,
Where Cities sat to see whole Armies play
Death's serious part: but this we may neglect
To mark the bus'ness which begins with day.

14

As Day new op'ning fills the Hemisphear,
And all at once; so quickly ev'ry street
Does by an instant op'ning full appear,
When from their Dwellings busy Dwellers meet.

15

From wider Gates Oppressors sally there;
Here creeps th' afflicted through a narrow Dore;
Groans under wrongs he has not strength to bear,
Yet seeks for wealth to injure others more.

16

And here the early Lawyer mends his pace;
For whom the earlier Cliant waited long;
Here greedy Creditors their Debtors chace,
Who scape by herding in th' indebted Throng.

17

Th' advent'rous Merchant whom a Storm did wake,
(His Ships on Adriatick Billowes tost)
Does hope of Eastern windes from Steeples take,
And hastens there a Currier to the Coast.

18

Here through a secret Posterne issues out
The skar'd Adult'rer, who out-slept his time;
Day, and the Husbands Spie alike does doubt,
And with a half hid face would hide his crime.

19

There from sick mirth neglected Feasters reel,
Who cares of want in Wine's false Lethe steep.
There anxious empty Gamsters homeward steal,
And fear to wake, ere they begin to sleep.

20

Here stooping Lab'rers slowly moving are;
Beasts to the Rich, whose strength grows rude with ease;
And would usurp, did not their Rulers care,
With toile and tax their furious strength appease.

21

There th' Aged walk, whose needless carefulness
Infects them past the Mindes best Med'cin, sleep;
There some to Temples early vows address,
And for th' ore busie world most wisely weep.

22

To this vast Inn, where Tydes of strangers flow,
The Morn and Hurgonil together came;
The Morn, whose Dewy wings appear'd but slow,
When Men the motion mark'd of swifter Fame.

23

For Fame (whose journeys are through wayes unknown,
Traceless and swift and changing as the Winde)
The Morne and Hurgonil had much out-gone,
Whilst Truth mov'd patiently within behinde.

24

For some the Combat (to a Battel grown)
Did apprehend in such prodigious shape,
As if their living to the Dead were gone,
And only Fame did by her Wings escape.

25

Some said this hunting falsely was design'd,
That by pretence both Factions might prepare
Their Armies to contest for Rhodalind;
The Crown's chief Jewel, and Reward of Warre,

26

And some report (so farr they range from Truth
Who for intelligence must follow Fame)
That then from Bergamo th'incamped Youth,
With Gondibert, to this dire hunting came.

27

And some, that Oswald had inlarg'd his Traine
With the old Troopes by his bold Father led;
And that of these the nobler half were slain;
The rest were to their Camp at Brescia fled.

28

And as dire Thunder rowling o're Heaven's vault,
By murmur threatens, ere it kills alloud;
So was this fatall newes in whisper brought,
Which menac'd ere it struck the list'ning Croud.

29

But Rumor soon to high extreames does move;
For first it Oswald nam'd with dreadful voice,
Then said that Death had widowd Truth and Love,
By making Gondibert the second choice.

30

And to all hearts so dear was Gondibert,
So much did Pity, Oswald's Valor prise,
That strait their early bus'ness they desert,
And fix on wounded Hurgonil their Eyes.

31

Him when by perfect day they sadly knew,
Through hidden wounds, whose blood his beauty stain'd,
Even from the Temples, Angels soon withdrew;
So sawcely th' afflicted there complain'd.

32

The People strait united clamor gave,
Shriek'd loud like Sea-men split on a strange Coast;
As if those Pow'rs were deaf who should them save,
And Pray'rs no louder then the windes were lost.

33

Now, with impatience urg'd, he does declare
Whom he so mournfully in Fun'ral brought;
The publick losses of a private Warr,
Who living, love, and dying, valor taught.

34

For he does Hugo and Arnoldo name;
To these (said he) Verona Cradles gave,
And since in forraign Fields they rais'd her Fame,
They challenge here, though much too soon, a Grave:

35

Bring sprinklings, Lamps, and th' Altar's precious breath;
All Rites which Priests have prudently devis'd;
Who gratefully a rev'rence teach to death;
Because they most by dying men are pris'd.

36

But though our loss we justly may complain;
Though even by Priests Authority we grieve;
Yet Heav'n's first bounty, Life, let none disdain,
Since Gondibert, our chief Delight, does live.

37

This heard, as Sea-men near a Shore unknown,
Who their North Guide lose in a Stormy night,
His absence with distracted silence moan,
And loudly wellcome his return to sight:

38

So when their great Conductor seem'd to be
Retir'd to endless shades amongst the slain,
With silent grief they seem'd as dead as he,
But with new life wellcom'd his life again.

39

And now that cold remainder Valor left
Of these whom Love had lost, and Fate forsook;
The Two that were of all but Fame bereft,
From Hurgonil the weeping People took.

40

Whilst of them both sad Hurgonil takes leave,
Till th' universal meeting Faith provides
The Day when all shall publickly receive
Those Bodies, Death does not destroy, but Hides.

41

Then to his Palace he retires by stealth;
His wounds from his lov'd Mistris to conceal;
On whose dear joys so much depends his health,
The wounds her Tears should touch would never heal.

42

To the chief Temple strait the People bear
The valiant Rivals, who for love were slain;
Whom all the peacefull Priests behold with fear,
And griev'd such Guests they durst not entertain.

43

For soon the Prior of their Brotherhood
(Who long serv'd Heav'n with praise, the world with prayer)
Cry'd out, this holy House is shut to blood,
To all that die in combat or dispair.

44

These by their bloody marks in Combat di'd;
Through anger, the disease of Beasts untam'd;
Whose wrath is hunger, but in Men 'tis pride,
Yet theirs is cruelty, ours courage nam'd.

45

Here the neglected Lord of peace does live;
Who taught the wrangling world the rules of love;
Should we his dwelling to the wrathfull give,
Our Sainted Dead would rise, and he remove.

46

Well by his precepts may we punish strife;
Whose pity knew that Famine, Plague, and Time,
Are Enemies enough to humane life;
None need o'er-charge Death's Quiver with a crime.

47

To unfrequented Fields bear then your slain;
Where neither Dirge nor Requiem shall be giv'n;
To those who by usurp'd Revenge disdain
To take from Men, neglects they put on Heav'n.

48

But now the People's passions run too farr;
Their untaught love, artless extremes does wed;
Of times they like the past, and since they are
Opprest still by the living, love the Dead:

49

And now resolve these Rivals shall not lose
The Rites of Sprinkling, Incense, Lights, and Song:
Then, as the voice of all their Minds, they chuse
An Orator, of rude, but ready Tongue:

50

Who at the Temple Gate thus pleads aloud!
VVe know, though Priests are Pensioners of Heav'n,
Your Flock which yields best rent, is this dull Croud;
The learn'd examine why their Fleece is giv'n.

51

Though by the Rich first shorn, to you they bear
A second tribute, and by zeal support
Temples, which Kings for glory raise, and where
The Rich for fame, the Learn'd as Spies resort.

52

Temples are yours, not God's lov'd Palaces;
Where Off'rings make not his, but your own Feasts;
Where you most wisely live, because at ease,
And entertain your Founders as your Guests:

53

With ease you take, what we provide with care;
And we (who your Legation must maintain)
Find all your Tribe in the Commission are;
And none but Heav'n could send so large a Train.

54

But being all Ambassadors from thence,
The growing charge will soon exceed our rent,
Unless you please to treat at his expence
VVho sent you; not at ours, where you are sent.

55

The ancient Laws liv'd in the Peoples voice;
Rites you from Custom, not from Canon draw;
They are but fashions of a graver choice,
VVhich yield to Laws, and now our voice is Law.

56

This Tybalt heard with sorrow and disdain,
(VVho here with Hurgonil a Mourner came)
And strait the peaceful Fathers strives to gain,
And thus the Peoples Orator reclaim.

57

Most usefull Fathers! some trace secret things
Even to his Closet, who is hid in Heav'n;
Vainly as Nilus to his hidden springs,
And not enjoy, but censure what is given.

58

You with such temper their intemp'rance bear,
To shew your solid science does rely
So on it self, as you no trial feare;
For Arts are weak that are of Scepticks shy.

59

Though in your Office humane safety lies,
Which op'ns that Hell the vicious vulgar feare,
Yet never can the People Priesthood prise;
As if from Heav'n your daily errands were.

60

Not that your message, Truth, they disesteem,
Or think it comes from any other way,
But that they Taxes hate, and Truth does seem
Brought as a Tax, when they the Bringers pay.

61

Thus we to Beasts fall from our noble kinde,
Making our Pastur'd Bodies all our care;
Allowing no subsistence to the Minde;
For Truth we grudg her as a costly fare.

62

But if they fear (since daily you renew
Disputes) your Oracles are doubtfull still
As those of old; yet more reward is due
To paines, where so uneasie is the skill.

63

Or if no skill they think it, but suppose
'Tis Faith (and Faith ne'r thinks Heav'n's height too high)
Yet Faiths so sev'ral be, that few are those
Can chuse right wings when they to Heav'n would fly.

64

Or if they think, Faith humane help transcends,
And to your science is so strict a bound
As Death to Valor is where daring ends;
And none are farthest in that Progress found;

65

Yet in our walk to our last home design'd,
'Tis safe by all the study'd Guides to goe;
Least we in death, too late, the knowledge find
Of what in life 'twas possible to know.

66

Your splendid Pomp, by which your Pow'r indures
Though costly, costs much less then Camps or Laws;
And more then both, Religion us secures;
Since Hell (your Prison) more then dying awes.

67

For though the plain Judge, Conscience, makes no showe,
But silently to her dark Session comes,
Not as red Law does to arraignment goe,
Or Warr to Execution with loud Drums;

68

Though she on Hills sets not her Gibbets high,
Where frightful Law sets hers; nor bloody seems
Like Warr in Colours spread, yet secretly
She does her work, and many Men condemns.

69

Chokes in the seed, what Law till ripe ne'r sees;
What Law would punish, Conscience can prevent;
And so the world from many Mischiefs frees;
Known by her Cures, as Law by punishment.

70

The weaker sighted ever look too nigh;
But their disputes have made your Charter good;
As doubted Tenures, which long pleadings trie,
Authentick grow by being much withstood.

71

These Chiefs, for whom we holy Rites desire,
By well fought Fields begot this Citties peace;
Oft with their blood have quench'd intestine fire;
And oft our Famines chang'd into excess.

72

Their Rites let not the people be deny'd,
Though by untutor'd kindness rudely sought;
Nor think they have in private Combate dyde,
Where Gondibert and mighty Oswald fought;

73

Both Princes of the Lombards royal blood;
For whom full Thrice Three Hunder'd number'd are,
Whose anger strove to make their anger good:
Number gives strife th' authentick name of War.

74

This said, Warrs cause these Priests no more debate;
They knew, Warr's Justice none could ere decide;
At that more specious name they open strait,
And sacred Rites of fun'ral they provide.

75

How vain is Custom, and how guilty Pow'r?
Slaughter is lawful made by the excess;
Earth's partial Laws, just Heav'n must needs abhor,
Which greater crimes allow, and damn the less.

Canto the Second.

The ARGUMENT.

Fame's progress through Verona, when she brings
Ill news inlarg'd, as her extended wings.
The Combat's cause shakes Aribert's great mind;
And the effect more conquers Rhodalind.
Meek Orna's fears, proud Gartha's bold disdain;
And Laura kindly dying for the Slain.

1

To Streets (the People's Region) early Fame
First brought this grief, which all more tragick make;
And next, to the triumphant Court she came,
Where prosp'rous Pow'r sleeps long, though Sutors wake;

2

But yet the early King (from Childhood bred
To dangers, toyls, and courser wants of ware)
Rose up to rule, and left soft Love in bed,
Could conquer Lands and Love, but stoopt to care.

3

Care, that in Cloysters only seales her Eyes,
Which Youth thinks folly, Age as wisdom owns;
Fooles by not knowing her, out-live the wise;
She visits Cities, but she dwells in Thrones.

4

Care, which King Aribert with Conquest gain'd,
And is more sure to him then Realms intail'd;
Wak'd him to know why Rumor thus complain'd,
Or who in battel bled, or who prevail'd?

5

Young Hurgonil (who does his wounds conceal,
Yet knew it did his dutious care import
That some just witness should his cause reveal)
Sent Tybalt to appease, and tast the Court.

6

To that proud Palace which once low did lie
In Parian Quarries, now on Columnes stands;
Ionique Props that bear their Arches high,
With ample treasure rais'd by Tuscan Hands.

7

So vast of height, to which such space did fit
As if it were o're-syz'd for Modern Men;
The ancient Giants might inhabit it;
And there walk free as windes that pass unseen.

8

The Monarch's wealth this shew'd in all the parts;
But his strong numerous Guards denote him wise;
Who on the weather of his Peoples hearts,
For a short Course, not voyages, relies.

9

Through many Guards (all watchful, calm, and bold)
Tybalt did pass the first magnifick Square;
And through ascents does enter to behold,
Where the States Head and Eies assembled are.

10

There sat the King, on whose consid'rate Brow
Sixty experienc'd Sommers he discern'd,
Which made him ripe, and all of Conduct know
That from success is own'd, from losses learn'd.

11

Neer him the Empire's strict Surveyors sate;
Whose universal sight no object lose;
Who see not crimes too soon, nor worth too late;
Finde dangers seed, and choake it ere it grows.

12

He wealth not birth preferr'd to Councels place;
For Councel is for use, not ornament;
Soules are alike, of rich and ancient race;
Though Bodies claim distinctions by descent.

13

Here boyling Youth, nor frozen Age can sit:
It would in Subjects scorne of ruling Breed,
If that great work should such small ayds admit,
And make them hope that they no Rulers need.

14

Nature too oft by birthright does preferr
Less perfect Monarchs to an anxious Throne;
Yet more then her, Courts by weak Counc'lers err,
In adding Cyphers where she made but one.

15

To this wise King, sage Tybalt did relate
The Combats cause, with truth's severe extent
Reveales that fire which kindl'd Oswald's hate;
For which such precious valor was misspent.

16

Gives Gondibert a just record of praise;
First how unwilling, then how bold in sight;
And crownes the Conquer'd with the Victor's Baies,
When Manhood bids him do their valor right:

17

At last he counts the wounded and the slaine;
And how Prince Hubert and the Duke retir'd;
From nothing brave or great he did refraine,
But his own deeds, which doing were admir'd.

18

This Arribert with outward patience heares,
Though wounded by the cause for which they fought;
With mod'rate joy the death of Oswald beares;
Yet justly to extremes it inward wrought.

19

Tybalt he now with peaceful lookes discharg'd;
And then his thoughts (imprison'd in his breast)
He strait by liberty of Tongue inlarg'd;
Which thus unto his Councel he addrest.

20

With what a difference Nature's pallat tasts
The sweetest draught which Art provides her, Pow'r:
Since Pow'r, Pride's Wine, but high in relish lasts
Whilst fuming new, for time does turn it sowre?

21

Yet Pow'r Earth's tempting Fruit, Heav'n first did plant,
From Man's first Serpent safe, Ambition's reach;
Else Eden could not serve Ambition's want;
Whom no command can rule, nor councel teach.

22

Pow'r is that luscious wine, which does the bold,
The wise, and noble most intoxicate;
Adds time to Youth, and takes it from the old;
Yet I by surfeit this Elixer hate.

23

I curse those Wars that make my glory last;
For which the Tuscan Widows curse me more;
The barren Fields where I in Arms did fast,
That I might surfeit on luxurious pow'r.

24

Thou Hermegild, who art for valor Crown'd,
For honor trusted, and for wisdom heard;
And you whom Councel has no less renown'd,
Observe how vertue against peace has err'd.

25

Still I have fought, as if in Beauty's sight,
Out-suffer'd patience, bred in Captives Breasts;
Taught fasts, till Bodys like our Souls grew light;
Outwatch'd the jealous, and outlabour'd Beasts.

26

These were my merits, my reward is Pow'r;
An outward Trifle, bought with inward peace;
Got in an Age, and rifled in an how'r;
When Feav'rish love, the People's Fit, shall cease.

27

For did not pow'r on their fraile love depend,
Prince Oswald had not treated with that love;
Whose glory did in hasty darkness end;
A sparke which vanish'd, as it upward strove.

28

By scorne of dangers and of ease, he sought
The Lombards hearts, my Rhodalind, and Crowne;
And much his youth had by his practice wrought,
Had Gondibert not levell'd his renowne:

29

Had Gondibert not staid the Peoples Eies
(Whose vertue stept 'twixt Oswald and their sight)
Who knows but Rhodalind had bin his Prise,
Or war must have secur'd Paternal right

30

Sad and uneasie is a long kept Throne;
Not that the People think long pow'r unjust;
But that for change, they wish best Monarchs gone;
Fond change, the Peoples soon repented lust!

31

I did advance (though with some jealous paine)
A forward vertue to my subjects love;
Least one less temp'rate should their favour gaine;
Whom their unstudy'd choice would more approve.

32

To thee sage Hermegild my self I leave,
My fame and pow'r: Thee action cannot waste;
Caution retard, nor promptitude deceave;
Slowness belate, nor Hope drive on too faste.

33

Think Hubert Heir to Oswald's bold pretence;
To whom the Camp at Brescia is inclin'd;
The Duke at Bergamo will seek defence;
And these are seeds of war for Rhodalind.

34

This said, his Councel he dismiss'd; who spy'd
A growing rage, which he would fain conceal;
They durst but nicely search, what he would hide;
Least they inflame the wound that else might heal.

35

They haste to sev'ral Cares; some to allay
Court's hectick Feaver, Faction (which does raign
Where Luxury, the Syre of Want, does sway)
Some to appease th' Alliance of the slain.

36

But Order now bids us again persue
Th'unweary'd Motion of unhappy Fame;
From Fields to Streets, from Streets to Court she flew;
Where first she to the Kings Apartment came.

37

Thence through the Palace she her wings did air;
And as her Wings, her Tongue too never ceas'd;
Like restless Swallows in an Evening fair:
At last does on a peaceful dwelling rest.

38

Where Sleep does yet that gentle Sex possesse,
Who ne'r should more of Care's rude wakings know,
But what may help sad Lovers to successe;
Or imp loves wings when they are found too slow.

39

There Lovers seek the Royal Rhodalind;
Whose secret brest was sick for Gondibert;
And Orna, who had more in publick pin'd
For Hurgonil, the Monarch of her heart.

40

And there the killing Laura did reside;
She of whose Eies the Lombard Youth Complain;
Yet often she for noble Arnold di'd;
And knew not now, her Murderer was slain.

41

Nor Hugo, who was all with love indu'd;
Whom still with teares the Lombard Ladies name;
Esteeming Modern Lovers false, and rude,
And Poets falser when they sing their fame.

42

These Beauties (who could soften Tyrant Kings)
Sleep now conceal'd within their Curtains shade;
Till rudely Fame, by shaking lowd her wings,
Disturb'd their Eies, and their wak'd hearts dismay'd.

43

They heard in parcels by imperfect sound,
A Tale too dismal to be understood;
That all their Lovers lay in hallow'd ground;
Temples their Bodies hid, the Fields their blood.

44

That this dire Morn to sad Verona brought
The Duke and Oswald, of lov'd life depriv'd;
And that of all who their fierce batail fought,
Onely the mangled Hurgonil surviv'd.

45

This Tale, Fame's course, officious Friends convay'd,
(Which are attendant Slaves, and Palace Grooms)
Who by the Lover of some busie Mayd,
From outward Courts sent it to inward Rooms.

46

Such horror brought, where love had onely us'd,
Did yet breed more amazement then belief;
Whilst Orna now, and Laura fly confus'd,
To Rhodalind, Truth's Altar, for relief.

47

There with disorder'd voices they compare,
And then derive what each has loosly learn'd;
Each hope applies, where others most despaire;
As doubting all but where her self's concern'd.

48

This weeping conf'rence had not lasted long,
When Tybalt, free from Aribert's commands,
Scapes the assembling Court's inquiring Throng,
And enters here; where first he doubtful stands.

49

For Pitty, when he ruin'd Laura spi'de,
Bids his discretion artfully complain;
And shew far off, what Truth not long can hide:
Death at a distance seen, may ease fears pain.

50

Their bus'ness now he can no more forbear;
For who on their urg'd patience can prevail,
Whose expectation is provok'd with fear?
He therefore thus their patience did assail.

51

Kinde Heav'n that gave you vertue, give you peace;
Delightful as your Beauties, be your Mindes;
Still may your Lovers your renown increase,
Though he who honor seeks, first danger findes!

52

Still may your beauty bear that ancient rate,
When beauty was chaste Honors Merchandise;
When Valor was chief Factor in Love's State;
Danger, Love's stamp, and Beautie's currant price.

53

Renown'd be Oswald, who in high belief
Of Rhodalind, her love with danger sought;
In Love's Records be Gondibert the chief,
Who for her right, not for his own has fought.

54

Though these for mighty mindes deserve Fame's voice;
Yet Orna needs must boast of Hurgonil;
Whose dangers well have justifi'd her choice,
And might alone Fame's publick Trumpet fill.

55

Enlarg'd be Honor's Throne, that Arnold there
And Hugo may for ever sit and rest,
Free from their Valor's toyle, and Laura's feare;
Which more then wounds disorder'd eithers Breast.

56

This said, he paws'd; findes each distrusts his art;
For Hope and Doubt came and return'd apace,
In chang'd Complexion from th' uncertain heart,
Like frighted Scowtes for Tidings to the Face.

57

His Eye seem'd most imploy'd on Rhodalind;
Whose love above her bashful caution sways;
For naming Gondibert, he soon did finde,
Her secret Soul shew'd pleasure at his praise.

58

Yet when she found her comforts did not last,
And that as Oracles, the future taught,
He hid Truth's Face, and darkened what was past;
Thus Truth through all her mourning Vailes she sought,

59

Why in these Ladies do you lengthen paine,
By giving them Grief's common med'cin, doubt?
Ease those with death whose Lovers now are slaine;
Life's fire a Feaver is, when Love's is out.

60

Yet think not that my cares peculiar are;
Perhaps I from religious pitty learn'd,
In Vertu's publick loss to take some share;
For there, all but the vicious are concern'd.

61

Your prudence, Royal Maid (he strait replies)
More then your birth, may claim the Lombards Crown
Whoe're in conquest of your favor dies;
For short lifes loss shall find a long renowne.

62

Then happy Oswald who is sure to gaine,
Even by Ambition that undoes the wise;
Great was th' attempt for which he's nobly slaine;
And gets him praise, though he has mist the prise.

63

But happier Gondibert, who does survive
To begg your Mercy, that he thus hath dar'd
To own that cause, for which the world might strive;
And conqu'ring, takes his wounds for his reward.

64

Be Hurgonil long distant from his Grave,
Whose life was so important in this cause;
Who for each wound he took, a wider gave,
And lives t' enjoy the pleasure of applause.

65

To say, how Hugo and Lord Arnold strove
For victorie, and mention their event,
Were to provide such fun'ral rites for Love,
As Death would be close Mourner, and repent.

66

Now Laura's blood back to her liver fled;
True Beautie's Mint: For by her Heart, Love's Throne.
Beautie's call'd in, like Coyn when Kings are dead;
As if not currant now her Lover's gone.

67

And like her beauty, she had darkened life,
But that with sprinckled water they restore
(By sodain cold, with sodain heat at strife)
Her spirits to those walks they us'd before.

68

She Arnold calls, then lost that name againe;
Which Rhodalind, and Orna's teares bemone,
Who carefully would her spent strength sustaine,
Though Hope has scarcely yet brought back their owne:

69

Now they her Temples chas'd, and strait prepare
Hot Eastern Fumes to reach her Brains cool'd sence;
With Wine's fierce spirits these extracted are,
Which warme but slowly, though of swift expence.

70

Yet now again she breath'd Lord Arnold's name;
VVhich her apt Tongue through custom best exprest;
Then to stay Life, that so unwilling came,
VVith Cordial Epithems they bath'd her breast.

71

Th' attendant Maids, by Tybalt's ready ayde,
To stop her Mourners teares, convey her now
VVhere she may ease in her own Curtain's shade
Her weary heart, and grief more Tongue allow.

72

No sooner thus was pity'd Laura gon,
But Oswald's sister, Gartha the renown'd!
Enters, as if the VVorld were overthrown,
Or in the teares of the afflicted drown'd.

73

Unconquer'd as her beauty was her minde;
VVhich wanted not a spark of Oswald's fire;
Ambition lov'd, but ne'r to Love was kinde;
Vex'd Thrones did more then quiet shades desire:

74

Her Garments now in loose neglect she wore,
As suted to her wilde dishevel'd haire;
Men in her shape might Natur's work adore,
Yet ask, why Art's nice dress was absent there?

75

But soon they found what made this change appear;
For meeting Truth, which slowly follows Fame,
Rage would not give her leasure for a Teare
To quench (ere thus she spake) her passion's flame.

76

Blasted be all your beauties Rhodalind,
Till you a shame, and terror be to light;
Unwing'd be Love, and slow as he is blind,
Who with your Looks poyson'd my Brothers sight!

77

Low and neglected be your Father's Throne,
Which like your beauty, Oswald did o're-rate;
Let luckless war take Lands from his light Crown,
Till those high cares he want that gave it weight!

78

Let Pow'rs consumption be his long disease,
Heav'n's vexing Curb, which makes wild Monarchs tame
And be he forc'd in froward age to please
His Favour's Monster, who devoures his Fame.

79

May you soon feel (though secret in your love,
As if your love were Sin) the publick scorn!
May Gondibert, who is your glory, move
Your pittie, when none else but you shall mourn!

80

To the dark Inne (where weary Valor, free
From thankless dangers rests) brave Oswald's gone!
But Hubert may, though vanquish'd, live to see
Your Victor with his Victory undone!

81

This said, she mounts (with a tempestious Brow)
The Charriot her Calabrian Coursers drew;
Lifted by Slaves, (who still about her bow)
As if with wings of swift revenge she flew.

82

To Brescia's Camp her course she had design'd;
And bids her Char'ioter drive swiftly on,
As if his steeds were dieted with winde!
Slow seems their speed whose thoughts before them run.

83

The pav'd Streets kindle with her Chariot wheeles!
The Omen of war's fire, the City spies,
Which with those sparks struck by her coursers heels,
Shine not so much as rage does in her Eies.

84

Those that observ'd her anger, grief, and haste,
VVith a dejected melancholy mourn;
She seem'd their Cities Genius as she pass'd,
Who by their Sins expell'd, would ne'r return.

85

The gentle Ladies, she has left in tears,
Who no example need nor cause to melt;
For soon even grief's Alarms, our foremost fears,
Kill those whose pain by Love's quick sence is felt.

86

And Rhodalind her fatal love does blame,
Because she finds it now by Gartha spy'd,
And does lament Love's fire, which bashful shame
Cannot reveal, nor her discretion hide.

87

She would not have it wast, nor publick grow;
But last conceal'd like that in Tullia's Urne;
Or that which prosp'rous Chymists nicely show;
Which as it thrives, must more in private burn.

88

Yet strait (grown valiant with her Victors fate)
She would have Hymen hold his Torches high;
And Love's fire pris'd, as Vestals theirs did rate;
Which none durst quench, though free to ev'ry Eie.

89

Resolves her love whilst this new valor lasts,
Shall undisguis'd her Father's sight endure;
And Orna now to her dear Lover hastes;
Whose outward wounds stay for her inward cure.

90

But here a wonder may arrest our thought,
Why Tybalt (of his usual pitty void)
To such sought Eares these direful sorrows brought,
Since to the King he onely was imploy'd?

91

But these are Ridles of misterious Love!
Tybalt in private long for Laura pin'd;
And try'd how Arnold would her. passion move
In death, who living ever fill'd her minde?

92

And by this trial how she Arnold us'd,
He wisely ment to urge or stay his heart;
But much by Love the Cautious are abus'd,
Who his wilde Ridles would reduce to Art.

Canto the Third.

The ARGUMENT.

Dead Oswald to his Camp by Hubert brought;
The Camp from pity, are to fury wrought;
Yet finde, when Gartha's looks does them surprise,
Their forward Hands diverted by their Eies:
Till with her voice new urg'd, they deeds persue
Which even Revenge would, had it Eies, eschew.

1

When from the fatal Forrest Hubert rod
To Brescia he and Borgio bent their way;
That their though dead, yet much important Load,
They might with horror to the Camp convay.

2

Revenge, impatient Hubert proudly sought!
Revenge, which even when just the wise deride;
For on past wrongs we spend our time and thought,
Which scarce against the future can provide.

3

But Fame before him came where those are bred
Who to her dismal Tales, faint credit give;
Who could not think their mighty Oswald dead,
Whilst they unconquer'd, and unwounded live.

4

Nor could Fame hope to make this Camp her Seate;
Her Tales, the talking, idle, fearful, heare;
But these are silent as in stolne retreate,
Busie as life, and like the Dead past feare.

5

Neer Mela's flowry Banke this Army lay;
Which Oswald's Syre, and Oswald oft had led
Against the Uandales King; and twice the day
They gain'd, whilst he from them and Empire fled.

6

From Youth expos'd, like Cattle in the Field;
And not taught warmth, as City Infants are;
But colds and fasts, to kill or to be kill'd;
Like th'Elements their birth began with Warre.

7

So Rev'rend now, and strong in age appeare,
As if maintain'd by more then humane breath;
So grave, as if the Councellors they were,
Not Executioners of Tyrant Death.

8

With silence (order's help, and marke of care)
They chide that noise which heedless youth affect;
Still course for use, for health they cleanly weare,
And save in well fix'd Armes, all niceness chek'd.

9

They thought, those that unarm'd expos'd fraile life,
But naked Nature valiantly betrai'd;
Who was though naked, safe, till pride made strife;
But made defence must use, now danger's made.

10

And those who toyle of Armor cannot byde,
Lose Natur's force, which these in custom finde;
And make (since strength's but Nature hourly try'd)
The Body weak by softness of the Minde.

11

They seem'd so calme, and with their age so grave,
So just and civil in their killing trade,
As if all life were crime but what they save;
Or Murder were by method lawful made.

12

Yet now that Manhood which those Victors makes
(So weak is Man, where most he may be prowd)
Pity, the tender'st of affections, shakes,
And they become from order, loose, and lowd.

13

For when they saw the Brother of their Chief
Led to their Camp by a defeated Traine,
They soon to late scorn'd Rumor gave belief,
And then by Hubert's wounds thought Oswald slaine.

14

But when disguis'd in death they Oswald saw,
In a slow Charriot brought, with fun'ral pace;
Themselves in an united Croud they draw;
And give to grief one universal Face.

15

Wonder (which growes unactive by excesse)
A while did their unruly passion stay;
The object lasting, made their wonder lesse,
Which fled to give their grief and anger way.

16

Yet first their grief (which Manhood should restraine)
They vent in womens sighs, with teares allay'd;
As if those women, taught them to complaine
Who by their Swords are weeping Widows made.

17

As Icy Rockes which frost together binde,
Stand silent, till as silently they melt,
But when they meet in Currents unconfin'd,
Swell, and grow loud, as if they freedom felt;

18

So these, unmov'd before, melt quietly
In their first grief, till grief (when tears meet tears,
And sighs meet sighs from ev'ry Breast and Eie)
Unruly grows, and danger's visage bears.

19

When hastily they heard by whose dire hand
Their Gen'ral fell, they think it cold to pause
Till anger may be guided by command;
And vain to ask of cureless Death the cause.

20

Some would to Bergamo their Ensignes bear,
Against those Youth which Gondibert had led;
Whom they in sacrifice would offer there,
T' appease the living, and revenge the dead.

21

And some (to shew their rage more eminent)
Would to Verona march, and there do deeds
Should make the shining Court in blacks lament,
And weep whilst the Victorious Faction bleeds.

22

Hubert (who saw Revenge advance so faste,
Whilst Prudence, slower pac'd, was left behinde)
Would keep their anger bent, yet slack their haste;
Because the rash fall oftner then the blinde.

23

He first their melting pitty kindly prais'd,
Which water'd Anger's forge, and urg'd their fire;
That like to Meteors lasts by being rais'd,
But when it first does sink, does strait expire.

24

Commends their anger, yet that flame he prays
May keep the temp'rate Chymicks equal heat;
That they in fury might not need allays,
Nor charge so rashly as to want retreat.

25

Begs they this dismal night would there remain,
And make the hopeful Morn their Guide; whilst Grief
(Which high Revenge, as tameness should disdain)
Sleep shall conceal, and give his wounds relief.

26

He Vasco, Paradine and Dargonet,
With Oswald, to the red Pavilion sent;
(Death's equal Pris'ners now for Nature's debt)
And then retires with Borgio to his Tent.

27

This is the night the Brescians so bemoan'd;
Who left their beds, and on their walls appear'd;
As if th' oppressed World in Earthquakes groan'd,
Or that some ruin'd Nation's sighs they heard;

28

Admir'd what in that Camp such griefs could raise,
Where serious Death so oft had been abus'd,
When ev'n their sportive Fencers Monthly Plays
Profan'd that shape, which States for terror us'd.

29

Yet this lowd mourning will no wonder breed,
When we with life lay Oswald's errors by,
And use him as the Living use the Dead;
Who first allow men vertue when they dy.

30

Still lib'ral of his life, of wealth as free;
By which he chief in fighting Crowds became;
Who must their Leaders Valors often see;
And follow them for bounty more then fame.

31

This gen'ral mourning was to lowdness rais'd,
By shewing Gifts he gave, and wounds he took;
They chid at last his life which they had prais'd,
Because such vertue it so soon forsook.

32

Now Night, by Grief neglected, hastes away!
And they the Morne's officious Usher spy,
The close Attendant on the Lord of Day;
Who shews the warmer of the World is nigh.

33

And now the Drums, the Camps low Thunder, make
War's thick united noise from ev'ry Guard;
Though they Reveillees scorn, whom grief does wake,
Who think, sleep Nature's curse, not toyls reward.

34

All night proud Borgio (chief in Hubert's trust)
With haughty hopes, the Camp does waking keep:
Ambition is more vigilant then Lust,
And in hope's feaver is too hot to sleep.

35

Now Day, and Hubert haste to publick view;
His wounds (unlucky more then dangerous)
Are so refresh'd, that he the Army drew
To a wide Grosse, and urg'd their Anger thus.

36

Friends to my Father! in whose wounds I see
The envy'd Merit whence his triumphs came;
And Fathers to my Brother, and to me;
For onely you adopted us to Fame!

37

Forgive me that I there have feebly fought,
Where Oswald in your cause did nobly strive;
Whence of his blood these veines so much have brought,
As makes me blush that I am still alive!

38

Your valiant Youth is gone, whom you have bred
From milkie Childhood to the years of blood!
By whom you joy'd so often to be led,
Where firme as now your Trophys, then you stood!

39

Gon is he now, who still with low regard
Bow'd to your age, your wounds as beauty kist;
Knew Age was of your temp'rance the reward;
And Courts in beauty by your skarrs subsist.

40

Yet was he not for mean pretensions slaine,
Who for your inter'st not his own has fought;
Vex'd that the Empire which your wounds did gaine,
Was by a young unwounded Army sought!

41

For Gondibert (to whom the Court must bow,
Now War is with your Fav'rite overthrowne)
Will by his Camp of Boys at Bergamo,
VVed her, who to your Valor owes the Crowne.

42

Blame not your Chief for his ambitious fire;
VVho was but temp'rate, when he understood
He might the Empire in your right require;
A scant reward for your exhausted blood.

43

Thus Hubert spake; but now so fierce they grow,
That Borgio strove to quench whom Hubert warm'd;
To Bergamo, they cry'd, to Bergamo!
And as they soon were vex'd, as soon are arm'd.

44

For to distinct and spacious Tents they hie,
VVhere quick as Vests of Persia shifted are,
Their Arms (which there in cleanly order lie)
They take from moving VVardrobes of the warre.

45

Arm'd soon as Porquepines! as if like those,
Their very rage them with defence supplies;
As borne with it, and must have winged Foes
That stoop from Heav'n to harme them by surprise.

46

VVith Ensignes now display'd, their Force they draw
To hasty order, and begin to move;
But are amus'd by something that they saw,
VVhich look'd like all that ere they heard of love.

47

Unusual to their Camp such objects were,
Yet this no ill effect from wonder wrought;
For it appeas'd them by approaching neer,
And satisfi'd their Eies in all they sought.

48

And this was Gartha in her Chariot drawn;
Who through the swarthy Region of the Night
Drove from the Court; and as a second dawn
Breaks on them, like the Mornes Reserve of Light.

49

Through all the Camp she moves with Fun'ral pace,
And still bowes meekly down to all she saw;
Her grief gave speaking beauty to her Face;
Which lowly look'd, that it might pitty draw.

50

VVhen by her Slaves, her name they understood,
Her Lines of feature heedfully they view;
In her complexion track their Gen'ral's blood,
And find her more, then what by fame they knew.

51

They humbly her to that Pavilion guide,
VVhere Hubert his bold Chiefs with fury fir'd;
But his ambition, when he Gartha spy'd
(To give his sorrow place) a while retir'd.

100

52

With his respectful help she does descend;
Where they, with dear imbraces mingle Tears,
But now her Male Revenge would grief suspend;
Revenge, through Grief, too feminine appears.

53

But when her dear Allies, dead Paradine,
And Dargonet she saw; that Manlinesse
Which her weak Sex assum'd, she does decline;
As bred too soft, to mannage griefs excesse.

54

Then soon return'd, as loath to shew her Eies
No more of Oswald then she must forsake;
But sorrow's moisture, heat of anger dries;
And mounted in her Chariot, thus she spake:

55

If you are those of whom I oft have heard
My Father boast, and that have Oswald bred;
Ah, where is now that rage our Tyrant fear'd,
Whose Darling is alive, though yours be dead?

56

The Court shines out at Rhodalind's commands,
To me (your drooping Flowre) no beam can spare;
Where Oswald's name, new planted by your hands,
Withers, as if it lost the Planters care.

57

From Rhodalind I thus disorder'd flie;
Least she should say, thy Fate unpity'd comes!
Goe sing, where now thy Fathers Fighters lie,
Thy Brothers requiem, to their conqu'ring Drums!

58

The happy Fields by those brave Warriors fought,
(Which from the Dictates of thy aged Syre,
Oswald in high Victorious Numbers wrot)
Thou shalt no more sign to thy silenc'd Lyre!

59

Such scorns, pow'r on unlucky vertue throws,
When Courts with prosp'rous vices wanton are;
Who your Authentick age despise for those,
VVho are to you but Infants of the warre.

60

Thus though she spake, her looks did more perswade;
Like vertuous anger did her colour rise,
As if th'injurious world it would invade,
VVhilst tears of rage not pitty drown her Eies.

61

The Sun did thus to threatned Nature show
His anger red, whilst guilt look'd pale in all;
VVhen Clouds of Floods did hang about his Brow,
And then shrunk back to let that anger fall.

62

And so she turn'd her Face, not as to grieve
At ruine, but to lisence what she rais'd;
VVhilst they (like common Throngs) all Tongues believe
VVhen Courts are tax'd, but none when they are prais'd.

101

63

Like Commets, Courts afflict the vulgar Eie;
And when they largest in their glory blaze,
People through ignorance think plagues are nie,
And till they waste with mourning wonder gaze.

64

These scorn the Courts dissertion of their age;
The active, ease impos'd, like pain endure;
For though calm rest does Age's pains asswage,
Yet few the sickness own to get the cure.

65

To Heav'n they lift their looks! whose Sun ne'r saw
Rage so agreed, as now he does behold;
Their shining swords all at an instant draw,
And bad him judge next day if they were old!

66

And of Verona wish'd him take his leave;
Which ere his third return they will destroy,
Till none shall guess by ruines where to grieve,
No more then Phrygians where to weep for Troy.

67

Thus Bergamo is soon forgot, whilst all
Alowd, Verona cry! Verona must
(That reach'd the Clouds) low as her Quarries fall!
The Court they'll bury in the Cities dust.

102

Canto the Fourth.

The ARGUMENT.

At Oswald's Camp arrives wise Hermegild;
Whose presence does a new diversion yield;
In Councel he reveals his secret Breast;
Would mingle Love with Empires interest:
From rash revenge, to peace the Camp invites,
Who Oswald's Fun'ral grace with Roman Rites.

1

In this distemper whilst the humors strive
T' assemble, they again diverted are;
For tow'rds their Trenches Twenty Chariots drive,
Swiftly as Syrians when they charge in warre.

2

They Hermegild with Court attendants spy'd;
Whose haste to Hubert does advice intend;
To warn him that just Fate can ne'r provide
For rash beginnings a succesful end.

3

But fate for Hermegild provided well;
This Story else (which him the wise does call)
Would here his private ruine sadly tell,
I hastning to prevent the publick Fall.

4

His noble blood obscurely had been shed,
His undistinguish'd Limbs scatter'd unknown,
As is the dust of Victors long since dead,
Which here and there, by every wind is blown.

5

Such was their rage when on Verona's way
(With his rich Trayn) they saw from Court he came;
Till some did their impetuous fury stay;
And gave his life protection for his fame,

6

Told them his valor had been long allow'd;
That much the Lombard's to his conduct ow;
And this preserv'd him, for the very Crowd
Felt honor here, and did to valor bow.

7

Vain Wrath! Deform'd, unquiet Child of Pride!
Which in a few the People madness call;
But when by number they grew dignify'd,
What's rage in some is liberty in all.

103

8

Through dangers of this lawless liberty,
He like Authentick pow'r does boldly pass;
And with a quiet and experienc'd eye,
Through Death's foul Vizard, does despise his face.

9

At Hubert's Tent he lights, where Hubert now
With Gartha of this Torrent does advise;
Which he believes does at the highest flow,
And must like Tides, sink when it cannot rise.

10

When Hermegild he saw, he did disperse
Those cares assembled in his looks, and strove
(Though to his Master, and the Court perverse)
To shew him all the civil signes of Love.

11

For him in stormy war he glorious knew;
Nor in calm Councels was he less renown'd;
And held him now to Oswald's Faction true,
As by his love, the world's first Tenure, bound.

12

For he (though wasted in the ebb of blood,
When Man's Meridian tow'rds his Evening turnes)
Makes against Nature's Law, Love's Charter good,
And as in raging Youth for Gartha burnes.

13

Who did his sute not only disapprove,
Because the summer of his life was past;
And she fresh blown; but that even highest love
Growes tastless to Ambition's higher taste,

14

Yet now in such a great and single cause,
With nice Ambition, nicer Love complies;
And she (since to revenge he usefull was)
Perswades his hope with Rhet'rique of her Eyes.

15

A closse division of the Tent they strait
By outward Guards secure from all resort;
Then Hermegild does thus the cause relate,
Which to the Camp dispatch'd him from the Court.

16

Important Prince! who justly dost succeed
To Oswalds hopes, and all my loyal aide;
Vertue as much in all thy wounds does bleed,
As love in me, since wounded by that Maide.

17

Long have I sayl'd through Times vexatious sea;
And first set out with all that Youth is worth;
The Tropicks pass'd of bloods hot bravery,
With all the Sailes, gay Flags, and Streamers forth!

18

But as in hotter voyages, Ships most
Weare out their trim, yet then they chiefly gain
By inward stowage, what is outward lost;
So men, decays of youth, repaire in brain.

104

19

If I experience boast when youth decayes,
Such vanity may Gartha's pity move,
Since so I seek your service by self praise,
Rather then seem unusefull where I love.

20

And never will I (though by Time supply'd
With such discretion as does Man improve)
To shew discretion, wiser Nature hide,
By seeming now asham'd to say I Love.

21

For love his pow'r has in gray Senates shown,
Where he, as to green Courts, does freely come;
And though loud youth, his visits makes more known,
With graver Age he's privately at home.

22

Scarce Greece, or greater Rome a Victor showes,
Whom more Victorious Love did not subdue;
Then blame not me who am so weak to those;
Whil'st Gartha all exceeds, that ere they knew.

23

Hope (Love's first food) I ne'r till now did know;
Which Love, as yet but temp'rately devours;
And claimes not love for love, since Gartha so
For Autumn Leaves, should barter Summer Flowers.

24

I dare not vainly wish her to be kinde,
Till for her love, my Arts and Pow'r bestow
The Crown on thee, adorn'd with Rhodalind;
Which yet for Gartha is a price too low.

25

This said, he paws'd; and now the hectick heate
Of Oswald's blood, doubled their Pulses pace;
Which high, as if they would be heard, did beate,
And hot Ambition shin'd in eithers face.

26

For Hermegild they knew could much outdoe
His words, and did possess great Aribert,
Not in the Courts cheap Glass of outward showe,
But by a study'd Tenure of the heart.

27

Whilst this try'd truth does make their wishes sure,
Hubert on Gartha looks, with suing Eyes
For Hermegild; whose love she will endure,
And made Ambition yield what Youth denies.

28

Yet in this bargain of her self, she knowes
Not how to treat; but all her chief desires,
Bids Hubert, as the Twins of his, dispose
To glory and revenge; and then retires.

29

But with such blushes Hermegild she leaves,
As the unclouded Evening's Face adorn;
Nor much he for her parting glory grieves,
Since such an Evening bodes a happy Morn.

105

30

Now Hermegild by vowes does Hubert binde,
(Vowes by their fate in Lombard Story known)
He Gartha makes the price of Rhodalind,
And Aribert his Tenant to the Crown.

31

He bids him now the Armies rage allay;
By rage (said he) only they Masters are
Of those they chuse, when temp'rate, to obay:
Against themselves th'impatient chiefly warre.

32

We are the Peoples Pilots, they our winds;
To change by Nature prone; but Art Laveers,
And rules them till they rise with Stormy Mindes;
Then Art with danger against Nature Steers.

33

Where calms have first amus'd, Storms most prevail;
Close first with Calms the Courts suspitious Eyes;
That whilst with all their trim, they sleeping sail,
A sudden Gust may wrack them by surprise.

34

Your Army will (though high in all esteem
That ever rev'renc'd Age to Action gave)
But a small Party to Verona seem;
Which yearly to such Numbers yields a Grave.

35

Nor is our vaste Metropolis, like those
Tame Towns, which peace has soft'ned into fears;
But Death deform'd in all his Dangers knows;
Dangers, which he like frightful Vizards wears.

36

From many Camps, who forraign winters felt,
Verona has her conqu'ring Dwellers ta'ne;
In War's great Trade, with richest Nations delt;
And did their Gold and Fame with Iron gain.

37

Yet to the mighty Aribert it bowes;
A King out-doing all the Lombard Line!
Whose Court (in Iron clad) by coursness showes
A growing pow'r, which fades when Courts grow fine.

38

Scorn not the Youthful Camp at Bergamo;
For they are Victors, though in years but young;
The War does them, they it by action know,
And have obedient Minds, in Bodies strong.

39

Be slow, and stay for aides, which haste forsakes!
For though Occasion still does Sloth out-goe,
The rash, who run from help, she ne'r o'er-takes,
Whose haste thinks Time, the Post of Nature, slow.

40

This is a cause which our Ambition fills;
A cause, in which our strength we should not waste,
In vain like Giants, who did heave at Hills;
'Tis too unwildly for the force of haste.

106

41

A cause for graver Minds that learned are
In mistick Man; a cause which we must gain
By surer methods then depend on Warre;
And respite valor, to imploy the Brain.

42

In the King's Scale your merits are too light;
Who with the Duke, weighs his own partial heart;
Make then the gift of Empire publick right,
And get in Rhodalind the Peoples part.

43

But this rough Tide, the meeting Multitude,
If we oppose, we make our voyage long;
Yet when we with it row, it is subdu'd;
And we are wise, when Men in vain are strong.

44

Then to the People sue, but hide your force;
For they believe the strong are still unjust;
Never to armed Sutors yield remorse;
And where they see the pow'r, the right distrust.

45

Assault their pity as their weakest part;
Which the first Plaintiff never failes to move;
They search but in the face to finde the heart;
And grief in Princes, more then triumph love.

46

And to prepare their pity, Gartha now
Should in her sorrows height with me return;
For since their Eyes at all distresses flow,
How will they at afflicted beauty mourn.

47

Much such a pledge of Peace will with the King
(Urg'd by my int'rest here) my pow'r improve;
And much my power will to your int'rest bring,
If from the watchful Court you hide my Love.

48

If Gartha deignes to love, our love must grow
Unseen, like Mandrakes wedded under ground;
That I (still seeming unconcern'd) may know
The King's new depths, which length of trust may sound!

49

Thus Hermegild his study'd thoughts declar'd;
Whilst Hubert (who believ'd, discover'd love
A solid Pledge for hidden faith) prepar'd
To stay the Camp, so furious to remove.

50

And now their rage (by correspondence spred)
Borgio allays, that else like sparks of fire
(Which drops at first might drowne) by matter fed,
At last to quench the flame may seas require.

51

As with the Sun they rose in wrath, their wrath
So with his heat increas'd; but now he hastes
Down Heav'ns steep Hill, to his Atlantick Bath;
Where he refreshes till his Feaver wastes.

107

52

With his (by Borgio's help) their heat declin'd;
So soon lov'd Eloquence does Throngs subdue;
The common Mistress to each private Minde;
Painted and dress'd to all, to no Man true.

53

To Court his Gartha, Hermegild attends:
And with old Lovers vaine poetick Eyes,
Markes how her beauty, when the Sun descends,
His pitty'd Evening poverty supplies.

54

The Army now to Neighb'ring Brescia bear,
With dismal pomp, the slain: In hallow'd ground
They Paradine, and Dargonet interr;
And Vasco much in painful war renoun'd.

55

To Oswald (whose illustrious Roman minde
Shin'd out in life, though now in dying hid)
Hubert these Roman fun'ral rites assign'd;
Which yet the World's last law had not forbid.

56

Thrice is his Body clean by bathing made;
And when with Victor's Oyle anointed or'e,
'Tis in the Pallace Gate devoutly layd'e,
Clad in that Vest which he in Battel wore.

57

Whilst seven succeeding Suns pass sadly by,
The Palace seems all hid in Cypress Boughs;
From ancient Lore, of Man's mortality
The Type, for where 'tis lopp'd it never grows.

58

The publick fun'ral voice, till these expire,
Cryes out; here Greatness, tir'd with honor, rests!
Come see what Bodies are, when Souls retire;
And visit death, ere you become his Guests!

59

Now on a Purple Bed the Corps they raise;
Whilst Trumpets summon all the common Quire
In tune to mourn him, and disperse his praise;
And then move slowly tow'rds the Fun'ral fire!

60

They beare before him Spoiles they gain'd in warre;
And his great Ancestors in Sculpture wrought;
And now arrive, where Hubert does declare
How oft and well, he for the Lombards fought.

61

Here, in an Altar's form, a Pile is made
Of Unctious Firr, and Sleepers fatal Ewe;
On which the Body is by Mourners laid,
Who their sweet Gummes (their last kind Tribute threw.)

62

Hubert his Arme, westward, aversly stretch'd;
Whilst to the hopefull East his Eyes were turn'd;
And with a hallow'd Torch the Pyle he reach'd;
Which seen, they all with utmost clamor mourn'd.

108

63

Whilst the full Flame aspires, Oswald (they cry)
Farewell! we follow swiftly as the Houres!
For-with Times's wings, tow'rds Death, even Cripples flie!
This said, the hungry Flame its food devoures.

64

Now Priests with Wine the Ashes quench, and hide
The Rev'renc'd Reliques in a Marble Urne.
The old dismissive Ilicet is cry'd
By the Town voice, and all to Feasts returne.

65

Thus Urnes may Bodies shew; but the fled Minde
The Learn'd seek vainly; for whose quest we pay,
With such success as cousen'd Shepheards finde,
Who seek to Wizards when their Cattel stray.

109

Canto the Fifth.

The ARGUMENT.

The House of Astragon; where in distress
Of Nature, Gondibert for Art's redress
Was by old Ulfin brought: where Art's hard strife,
In studying Nature for the aid of Life,
Is by full wealth and conduct easie made;
And Truth much visited, though in her shade.

1

From Brescia swiftly o're the bord'ring Plain,
Return we to the House of Astragon;
Where Gondibert, and his successfull Train,
Kindly lament the Victory they won.

2

But though I Fame's great Book shall open now,
Expect a while, till she that Decad reads,
Which does this Dukes eternal Story show,
And aged Ulfin cites for special deeds.

3

Where Friendship is renown'd in Ulfinore;
Where th' ancient musick of delightful verse,
Does it no less in Goltho's Breast adore,
And th'union of their equal hearts reherse.

4

These weary Victors the descending Sun
Led hither, where swift Night did them surprise;
And where, for valiant toiles, wise Astragon,
With sweet rewards of sleep, did fill their Eyes.

5

When to the needy World Day did appear,
And freely op'd her Treasury of light,
His House (where Art and Nature Tennants were)
The pleasure grew, and bus'ness of their sight.

6

Where Ulfin (who an old Domestick seems,
And rules as Master in the Owners Breast)
Leads Goltho to admire what he esteems;
And thus, what he had long observ'd, exprest.

7

Here Art by such a diligence is serv'd,
As does th' unwearied Planets imitate;
Whose motion (life of Nature) has preserv'd
The world, which God vouchsaf'd but to create.

110

8

Those heights, which else Dwarf Life could never reach,
Here, by the wings of diligence they climbe;
Truth (skar'd with Terms from canting Schools) they teach;
And buy it with their best sav'd Treasure, Time,

9

Here all Men seem Recov'rers of time past;
As busie as intentive Emmets are;
As alarm'd Armies that intrench in haste,
Or Cities, whom unlook'd-for sieges skare.

10

Much it delights the wise Observers Eye,
That all these toiles direct to sev'ral skills;
Some from the Mine to the hot Furnace hie,
And some from flowry Fields to weeping Stills.

11

The first to hopefull Chymicks matter bring,
Where Med'cine they extract for instant cure;
These bear the sweeter burthens of the Spring;
Whose vertues (longer known) though slow, are sure.

12

See there wet Divers from Fossone sent!
Who of the Seas deep Dwellers knowledge give;
Which (more unquiet then their Element)
By hungry war, upon each other live.

13

Pearl to their Lord, and Cordial Coral these
Present; which must in sharpest liquids melt;
He with Nigella cures that dull disease
They get, who long with stupid Fish have dwelt.

14

Others through Quarries dig, deeply below
Where Desart Rivers, cold, and private run;
Where Bodies conservation best they know,
And Mines long growth, and how their veines begun.

15

He shewes them now Tow'rs of prodigious height,
Where Natures Friends, Philosophers remain
To censure Meteors in their cause and flight.
And watch the Wind's authority on Rain.

16

Others with Optick Tubes the Moons scant face
(Vaste Tubes, which like long Cedars mounted lie)
Attract through Glasses to so near a space,
As if they came not to survey, but prie.

17

Nine hasty Centuries are now fulfill'd,
Since Opticks first were known to Astragon;
By whom the Moderns are become so skill'd,
They dream of seeing to the Maker's Throne.

18

And wisely Astragon, thus busie grew,
To seek the Stars remote societies;
And judge the walks of th' old, by finding new;
For Nature's law, in correspondence lies.

111

19

Man's pride (grown to Religion) he abates,
By moving our lov'd Earth; which we think fix'd;
Think all to it, and it to none relates;
With others motion scorn to have it mix'd;

20

As if 'twere great and stately to stand still
Whilst other Orbes dance on; or else think all
Those vaste bright Globes (to shew God's needless skill)
Were made but to attend our little Ball.

21

Now near a sever'd Building they discern'd
(Which seem'd, as in a pleasant shade, retir'd)
A Throng, by whose glad diligence they learn'd,
They came from Toyles which their own choice desir'd

22

This they approach, and as they enter it
Their Eyes were stay'd, by reading o'er the Gate,
Great Natures Office, in large letters writ;
And next, they mark'd who there in office sate.

23

Old busie Men, yet much for wisdom fam'd;
Hasty to know, though not by haste beguil'd;
These fitly, Nature's Registers were nam'd;
The Throng were their Intelligeneers stil'd:

24

Who stop by snares, and by their chace o'retake
All hidden Beasts the closer Forrest yields;
All that by secret sence their rescue make,
Or trust their force, or swiftness in the Fields.

25

And of this Throng, some their imployment have
In fleeting Rivers, some fix'd Lakes beset;
Where Nature's self, by shifts, can nothing save
From trifling Angles, or the swal'wing Net.

26

Some, in the spacious Ayre, their Prey o'retake,
Cous'ning, with hunger, Falcons of their wings;
Whilst all their patient observations make,
Which each to Nature's Office duely brings.

27

And there of ev'ry Fish, and Foule, and Beast,
The wiles these learned Registers record,
Courage, and feares, their motion and their rest;
Which they prepare for their more learned Lord.

28

From hence to Nature's Nursery they goe;
Where seems to grow all that in Eden grew;
And more (if Art her mingled Species show)
Then th' Hebrew King, Nature's Historian, knew.

29

Impatient Simplers climbe for Blossomes here;
When Dewes (Heav'n's secret milk) in unseen show'rs
First feed the early Childhood of the year;
And in ripe Summer, stoop for Hearbs and Flow'rs.

112

30

In Autumn, Seeds and Berries they provide;
Where Nature a remaining force preserves;
In Winter digg for Roots, where she does hide
That stock, which if consum'd, the next Spring sterves.

31

From hence (fresh Nature's flourishing Estate!)
They to her wither'd Receptacle come;
Where she appears the loathsome Slave of Fate;
For here her various Dead possess the Room.

32

This dismall Gall'ry, lofty, long, and wide;
Was hung with Skelitons of ev'ry kinde;
Humane, and all that learned humane pride
Thinks made t' obey Man's high immortal Minde.

33

Yet on that Wall hangs he too, who so thought;
And she dry'd by him, whom that He obey'd;
By her an El'phant that with Heards had fought,
Of which the smallest Beast made her afraid.

34

Next it, a Whale is high in Cables ty'd,
Whose strength might Herds of Elephants controul;
Then all, (in payres of ev'ry kinde) they spy'd
Which Death's wrack leaves, of Fishes, Beasts, and Fowl.

35

These Astragon (to watch with curious Eye
The diff'rent Tenements of living breath)
Collects, with what far Travailers supply;
And this was call'd, The Cabinet of Death.

36

Which some the Monument of Bodies, name;
The Arke, which saves from Graves all dying kindes;
This to a structure led, long known to Fame,
And call'd, The Monument of banish'd Mindes.

37

Where, when they thought they saw in well sought Books,
Th' assembled soules of all that Men held wise,
It bred such awfull rev'rence in their looks,
As if they saw the bury'd writers rise.

38

Such heaps of written thoughts (Gold of the Dead,
Which Time does still disperse, but not devour)
Made them presume all was from Deluge free'd,
Which long-liv'd-Authors writ ere Noah's Show'r.

39

They saw Egyptian Roles, which vastly great,
Did like faln Pillars lie, and did display
The tale of Natures life, from her first heat,
Till by the Flood o'er-cool'd, she felt decay.

40

And large as these (for Pens were Pencils then)
Others that Egypts, chiefest Science show'd;
Whose River forc'd Geometry on Men,
Which did distinguish what the Nyle o're-flow'd.

113

41

Near them, in Piles, Chaldean Cous'ners lie;
Who the hid bus'ness of the Stars relate;
Who make a Trade of worship'd Prophesie;
And seem to pick the Cabinet of Fate.

42

There Persian Magi stand; for wisdom prais'd;
Long since wise Statesmen, now Magicians thought;
Altars and Arts are soon to fiction rais'd,
And both would have, that miracles are wrought.

43

In a dark Text, these States-men left their Mindes;
For well they knew, that Monarch's Mistery
(Like that of Priests) but little rev'rence findes,
VVhen they the Curtain op'e to ev'ry Eye.

44

Behinde this Throng, the talking Greeks had place;
VVho Nature turn to Art, and Truth disguise,
As skill does native beauty oft deface;
With Termes they charm the weak, and pose the wise.

45

Now they the Hebrew, Greek and Roman spie;
Who for the Peoples ease, yoak'd them with Law;
Whom else, ungovern'd lusts would drive awry;
And each his own way frowardly would draw.

46

In little Tomes these grave first Lawyers lie,
In Volumes their Interpreters below;
Who first made Law an Art, then Misterie;
So cleerest springs, when troubled, cloudy grow.

47

But here, the Souls chief Book did all precede;
Our Map tow'rds Heav'n; to common Crowds deny'd;
Who proudly aim to teach, ere they can read;
And all must stray, where each will be a Guide.

48

About this sacred little Book did stand
Unweildly Volumes, and in number great;
And long it was since any Readers hand
Had reach'd them from their unfrequented Seat.

49

For a deep Dust (which Time does softly shed,
Where only Time does come) their Covers beare;
On which, grave Spyders, streets of Webbs had spread;
Subtle, and slight, as the grave Writers were.

50

In these, Heav'ns holy Fire does vainly burn;
Nor warms, nor lights, but is in Sparkles spent;
VVhere froward Authors, with disputes, have torn
The Garment seamless as the Firmament.

51

These are the old Polemicks, long since read,
And shut by Astragon; who thought it just,
They, like the Authors (Truth's Tormentors) dead,
Should lie unvisited, and lost in dust.

114

52

Here the Arabian's Gospel open lay,
(Men injure Truth, who Fiction nicely hide)
Where they the Monk's audacious stealths survey,
From the World's first, and greater second Guide.

53

The Curious much perus'd this, then, new Book;
As if some secret wayes to Heav'n it taught;
For straying from the old, men newer look,
And prise the found, not finding those they sought.

54

We, in Tradition (Heav'n's dark Mapp) descrie
Heav'n worse, then ancient Mapps farr India show;
Therefore in new, we search where Heav'n does lie;
The Mind's sought Ophir, which we long to know.

55

Or as a Planter, though good Land he spies,
Seeks new, and when no more so good he findes,
Doubly esteems the first; so Truth men prise;
Truth, the discov'ry made by trav'ling Mindes.

56

And this false Book, till truly understood
By Astragon, was openly display'd;
As counterfeit; false Princes, rather shou'd
Be shewn abroad, then in close Prison lay'd.

57

Now to the old Philosophers they come;
Who follow'd Nature with such just despaire,
As some do Kings farr off; and when at home,
Like Courtiers, boast, that they deep secrets share.

58

Near them are grave dull Moralists, who give
Counsell to such, as still in publick dwell;
At sea, in Courts, in Camps, and Citties live;
And scorn experience from th' unpractis'd Cell.

59

Esop with these stands high, and they below;
His pleasant wisdome mocks their gravity;
Who Vertue like a tedious Matron show,
He dresses Nature to invite the Eye.

60

High skill their Ethicks seemes, whilst he stoops down
To make the People wise; their learned pride
Makes all obscure, that Men may prise the Gown;
With ease he teaches, what with pain they hide.

61

And next (as if their bus'ness rul'd Mankinde)
Historians stand bigg as their living looks;
Who thought, swift Time they could in fetters binde;
Till his Confessions they had ta'ne in Books:

62

But Time oft scap'd them in the shades of Night;
And was in Princes Closets oft conceal'd,
And hid in Battels smoke; so what they Write
Of Courts and Camps, is oft by guess reveal'd,

115

63

Near these, Physitians stood; who but reprieve
Like life a Judge, whom greater pow'r does awe;
And cannot an Almighty pardon give;
So much yields Subject Art to Nature's Law.

64

And not weak Art, but Nature we upbraid,
When our frail essence proudly we take ill;
Think we are robb'd, when first we are decay'd
And those were murder'd whom her law did kill.

65

Now they refresh, after this long survey,
With pleasant Poets, who the Soul sublime;
Fame's Heraulds, in whose Triumphs they make way;
And place all those whom Honor helps to climbe.

66

And he who seem'd to lead this ravish'd Race,
Was Heav'n's lov'd Lanreat, that in Jewry writ;
Whose Harp approach'd Gods Ear, though none his Face
Durst see, and first made inspiration, wit.

67

And his Attendants, such blest Poets are,
As make unblemish'd Love, Courts best delight;
And sing the prosp'rous Battels of just warre;
By these the loving, Love, and valiant, fight.

68

O hireless Science! and of all alone
The Liberal! Meanly the rest each State
In pension treats, but this depends on none;
Whose worth they rev'rendly forbear to rate.

116

Canto the Sixth.

The ARGUMENT.

How Astragon to Heav'n his duty pays
In Pray'r, and Penitence, but most in Praise:
To these he sev'ral Temples dedicates;
And Ulfin their distinguish'd use relates.
Religion's Rites, seem here, in Reasons sway;
Though Reason must Religion's Laws obey.

1

The noble Youths (reclaim'd by what they saw)
Would here unquiet war, as pride, forsake;
And study quiet Nature's pleasant Law;
Which Schools, through pride, by Art uneasie make

2

But now a sudden Shout their thoughts diverts!
So cheerfull, general, and loud it was,
As pass'd through all their Ears, and fill'd their Hearts;
Which lik'd the joy, before they knew the cause.

3

This Ulfin, by his long Domestick skill
Does thus explain. The Wise I here observe,
Are wise tow'rds God; in whose great service still,
More then in that of Kings, themselves they serve.

4

He who this Building's Builder did create,
Has an Apartment here Triangular;
Where Astragon, Three Fanes did dedicate,
To dayes of Praise, of Penitence, and Pray'r.

5

To these, from diff'rent motives, all proceed;
For when discov'ries they on Nature gain,
They praise high Heavn which makes their work succeed,
But when it fails, in Penitence complain.

6

If after Praise, new blessings are not giv'n,
Nor mourning Penitence can ills repair,
Like practis'd Beggers, they solicite Heav'n,
And will prevail by violence of Pray'r.

7

The Temple built for Pray'r, can neither boast
The Builder's curious Art, nor does declare,
By choice Materials he intended cost;
To shew, that nought should need to tempt to Pray'r.

117

8

No Bells are here! Unhing'd are all the Gates!
Since craving in distress is naturall,
All lies so op'e that none for ent'rance waites;
And those whom Faith invites, can need no call.

9

The Great have by distinction here no name;
For all so cover'd come, in grave disguise,
(To shew none come for decency or fame)
That all are strangers to each others Eyes.

10

But Penitence appears unnaturall;
For we repent what Nature did perswade;
And we lamenting Man's continu'd fall,
Accuse what Nature necessary made.

11

Since the requir'd extream of Penitence
Seems so severe, this Temple was design'd,
Solemn and strange without, to catch the sense,
And dismal shew'd within, to awe the mind.

12

Of sad black Marble was the outward Frame,
(A Mourning Monument to distant sight)
But by the largeness when you near it came,
It seem'd the Palace of Eternal Night.

13

Black beauty (which black Meroens had prais'd
Above their own) sadly adorn'd each part;
In Stone, from Nyle's hard Quarries, slowly rais'd,
And slowly'er polish'd by Numidian Art.

14

Hither a loud Bells tole, rather commands,
Then seems t'invite the persecuted Eare;
A summons Nature hardly understands;
For few, and slow are those who enter here,

15

Within, a dismall Majesty they find!
All gloomy, great, all silent does appear!
As Chaos was, ere th' Elements were design'd;
Man's evil fate seems hid and fashion'd here.

16

Here all the Ornament is rev'rend black;
Here, the check'd Sun his universal Face
Stops bashfully, and will no entrance make;
As if he spy'd Night naked through the Glass.

17

Black Curtains hide the Glass; whilst from on high
A winking Lamp, still threatens all the Room;
As if the lazy flame just now would die:
Such will the Sun's last light appear at Doom!

18

This Lamp was all, that here inform'd all Eyes;
And by reflex, did on a Picture gain
Some few false Beames, that then from Sodome rise;
Where Pencils feigne the fire which Heav'n did rain.

118

19

This on another Tablet did reflect,
Where twice was drawn the am'rous Magdaline;
Whilst beauty was her care, then her neglect;
And brightest through her Tears she seem'd to shine.

20

Near her, seem'd crucifi'd, that lucky Thief
(In Heav'n's dark Lot'ry prosp'rous, more then wise)
Who groap'd at last, by chance, for Heav'n's relief,
And Throngs undoes with Hope, by one drawn Prise.

21

In many Figures by reflex were sent,
Through this black Vault (instructive to the minde)
That early, and this tardy Penitent;
For with Obsidian stone 'twas chiefly lin'd,

22

The Seats were made of Ethiopian Wood,
The polish'd Ebony, but thinly fill'd;
For none this place by nature understood;
And practise, when unpleasant, makes few skill'd.

23

Yet these, whom Heav'n's misterious choice fetch'd in,
Quickly attain Devotion's utmost scope;
For having softly mourn'd away their sin,
They grow so certain, as to need no Hope.

24

At a low Door they enter, but depart
Through a large Gate, and to fair Fields proceed;
Where Astragon makes Nature last by Art,
And such long Summers shews, as ask no seed.

25

Whilst Ulfin this black Temple thus exprest
To these kind Youths, whom equal soul endeers;
(Goltho, and Ulfinore, in friendship blest)
A second gen'ral shout salutes their Eares.

26

To the glad House of Praise this shout does call!
To Pray'r (said he) no Summons us invites,
Because distress does thither summon all;
As the loud tole to Penitence excites.

27

But since, dull Men, to gratitude are slow;
And joy'd consent of Hearts is high Heav'ns choice;
To this of Praise, shouts summon us to goe;
Of Hearts assembled, the unfeigned Voice.

28

And since, wise Astragon, with due applause,
Kinde Heav'n, for his success, on Nature payes;
This day, Victorious Art, has giv'n him cause,
Much to augment Heav'n's lov'd reward of praise.

29

For this effectuall day his Art reveal'd,
What has so oft Made Nature's spies to pine,
The Loadstones mistick use, so long conceal'd
In close allyance with the courser Mine.

119

30

And this, in sleepy Vision, he was bid
To Register in Characters unknown;
Which Heav'n will have from Navigators hid,
Till Saturne's walk be Twenty Circuits grown.

31

For as Religion (in the warm East bred)
And Arts (which next to it most needfull were)
From Vices sprung from their corruption, fled;
And thence vouchsaf'd a cold Plantation here;

32

So when they here again corrupted be,
(For Man can even his Antidotes infect)
Heav'n's reserv'd World they in the West shall see;
To which this stone's hid vertue will direct.

33

Religion then (whose Age this World upbraids,
As scorn'd deformitie) will thither steer;
Serv'd at fit distance by the Arts, her Maids;
Which grow too bold, when they attend too neer.

34

And some, whom Traffick thither tempts, shall thence
In her exchange (though they did grudge her shrines,
And poorly banish'd her to save expence)
Bring home the Idol, Gold, from new found Mines.

35

Till then, sad Pilots must be often lost,
Whilst from the Ocean's dreaded Face they shrink;
And seeking safety near the cous'ning Coast,
With windes surpriz'd, by Rocky ambush sink.

36

Or if success rewards, what they endure,
The World's chief Jewel, Time, they then ingage
And forfeit (trusting long the Cynosure)
To bring home nought but wretched Gold, and Age.

37

Yet when this plague of ignorance shall end,
(Dire ignorance, with which God plagues us most;
Whilst we not feeling it, him most offend)
Then lower'd Sayles no more shall tide the Coast.

38

They with new Tops to Formasts and the Main,
And Misens new, shall the Ocean's Breast invade;
Stretch new Sayles out, as Armes to entertain
Those windes, of which their Fathers were afraid.

39

Then (sure of either Pole) they will with pride,
In ev'ry storm, salute this constant Stone!
And scorn that Star, which ev'ry Cloud could hide;
The Seamen's spark! which soon, as seen, is gone!

40

'Tis sung, the Ocean shall his Bonds untie,
And Earth in half a Globe be pent no more;
Typhis shall saile, till Thule he descry,
But a domestick step to distant Shore!

120

41

This Astragon had read; and what the Greek
Old Cretias, in Egyptian Books had found;
By which, his travail'd soul, new Worlds did seek,
And div'd to find the old Atlantis droun'd.

42

Grave Ulfin thus discours'd; and now he brings
The Youths to view the Temple built for Praise;
Where Olive, for th' Olimpian Victor Springs;
Mirtle, for Love's; and for War's triumph, Bayes.

43

These, as rewards of Praise, about it grew;
For lib'rall praise, from an abundant Minde,
Does even the Conqueror of Fate subdue;
Since Heav'n's good King is Captive to the Kinde.

44

Dark are all Thrones, to what this Temple seem'd;
Whose Marble veines out-shin'd Heav'n's various Bow;
And would (eclipsing all proud Rome esteem'd)
To Northern Eyes, like Eastern Mornings, show.

45

From Paros Isle, was brought the Milkie white;
From Sparta, came the Green, which cheers the view;
From Araby, the blushing Onychite,
And from the Misnian Hills, the deeper Blew.

46

The Arched Front did on vaste Pillars fall;
Where all harmonious Instruments they spie
Drawn out in Bosse; which from the Astrigall
To the flat Frise, in apt resemblance lie.

47

Toss'd Cymballs (which the sullen Jewes admir'd)
Were figur'd here, with all of ancient choice
That joy did ere invent, or breath inspir'd,
Or flying Fingers touch'd into a voice.

48

In Statute o're the Gate, God's Fav'rite-King
(The Author of Celestial praise) did stand;
His Quire (that did his sonnets set and Sing)
In Niches rang'd, attended either Hand.

49

From these, old Greeks sweet Musick did improve;
The Solemn Dorian did in Temples charm,
The softer Lydian sooth'd to Bridal Love,
And warlike Phrygian did to Battel warm!

50

They enter now, and with glad rev'rence saw
Glory, too solid great to taste of pride;
So sacred pleasant, as preserves an awe;
Though jealous Priests, it neither praise nor hide,

51

Tapers and Lamps are not admitted here;
Those, but with shaddowes, give false beauty grace;
And this victorious glory can appear
Unvayl'd before the Sun's Meridian Face:

121

52

Whose Eastern lustre rashly enters now;
Where it his own mean Infancy displays;
Where it does Man's chief obligation show,
In what does most adorn the House of Praise;

53

The great Creation by bold Pencils drawn;
Where a feign'd Curtain does our Eyes forbid,
Till the Sun's Parent, Light, first seems to dawn
From quiet Chaos, which that Curtain hid.

54

Then this all-rev'renc'd Sun (God's hasty Spark
Struck out of Chaos, when he first struck Light)
Flies to the Sphears, where first he found all dark,
And kindled there th' unkindled Lamps of Night.

55

Then Motion, Nature's great Preservative,
Tun'd order in this World, Life's restless Inn;
Gave Tydes to Seas, and caus'd stretch'd Plants to live;
Else Plants but seeds, and Seas but Lakes had bin.

56

But this Fourth Fiat, warming what was made,
(For light ne'r warm'd, till it did motion get)
The Picture fills the World with woody shade;
To shew how Nature thrives by Motion's heat.

57

Then to those Woods the next quick Fiat brings
The Feather'd kinde, where merrily they fed,
As if their Hearts were lighter then their Wings;
For yet no Cage was fram'd, nor Net was spred.

58

The same Fifth voice does Seas and Rivers Store;
Then into Rivers Brooks the Painter powres,
And Rivers into Seas; which (rich before)
Return their gifts, to both, exhal'd in Show'rs.

59

This voice (whose swift dispatch in all it wrought,
Seems to denote the Speaker was in haste,
As if more worlds were framing in his thought)
Adds to this world one Fiat, as the last.

60

Then strait an universal Herd appears;
First gazing on each other in the shade;
Wondring with levell'd Eyes, and lifted Eares,
Then play, whilst yet their Tyrant is unmade.

61

And Man, the Painter now presents to view;
Haughty without, and busie still within;
Whom, when his Furr'd and Horned Subjects knew,
Their sport is ended, and their fears begin.

62

But here (to cure this Tyrant's sullenness)
The Painter has a new false Curtain drawn,
Where, Beauty's hid Creation to express;
From thence, harmless as light, he makes it dawn,

122

63

From thence breaks lov'ly forth, the World's first Maid;
Her Breast, Love's Cradle, where Love quiet lies;
Nought yet had seen so foule, to grow afraid,
Nor gay, to make it cry with longing Eyes.

64

And thence, from stupid sleep, her Monarch steals;
She wonders, till so vain his wonder growes,
That it his feeble sov'raignty reveales;
Her beauty then, his Manhood does depose.

65

Deep into shades the Painter leads them now;
To hide their future deeds; then stormes does raise
O're Heav'n's smooth face, because their life does grow
Too black a story for the House of Praise.

66

A noble painted Vision next appears;
Where all Heav'n's Frowns in distant prospect waste;
And nought remains, but a short showre of Tears,
Shed, by its pity, for Revenges past.

67

The World's one ship, from th' old to a new World bound;
Fraighted with Life (chief of uncertain Trades!)
After Five Moons at drift, lies now a ground;
Where her frail Stowage, she in haste unlades.

68

On Persian Caucasus the Eight descend;
And seem their trivial beings to deplore;
Griev'd to begin this World in th' others end;
And to behold wrack'd Nations on the Shore,

69

Each humbled thus, his Beasts led from aboard,
As fellow Passengers, and Heirs to breath;
Joynt Tennants to the World, he not their Lord;
Such likeness have we in the Glass of Death.

70

Yet this humility begets their joy;
And taught, that Heav'n (which fully sin surveys)
Was partial where it did not quite destroy;
So made the whole World's Dirge their song of praise.

71

This first redemption to another led,
Kinder in deeds, and nobler in effects;
That but a few did respit from the Dead,
This all the Dead, from second Death protects.

72

And know, lost Nature! this resemblance was
Thy franke Redeemer, in Ascension shown;
When Hell he conquer'd in thy desp'rate cause;
Hell which before, Man's common Grave was grown.

73

By Pencills this was exquisitely wrought;
Rounded in all the Curious would behold;
Where life Came out, and Met the Painters thought;
The Force was tender, though the strokes were bold.

123

74

The holy Mourners, who this Lord of life
Ascending saw, did seem with him to rise;
So well the Painter drew their passions strife,
To follow him with Bodies, as with Eyes.

75

This was the chief which in this Temple did
By Pencils Rhetrique, to praise perswade;
Yet to the living here, compar'd, seems hid;
Who shine all painted Glory into shade.

76

Lord Astragon a Purple Mantle wore,
Where Natures story was in Colours wrought;
And though her ancient Text seem'd dark before,
'Tis in this pleasant Comment clearly taught.

77

Such various Flowry Wreaths th' Assembly weare,
As shew'd them wisely proud of Nature's pride;
Which so adorn'd them, that the coursest here
Did seem a prosp'rous Bridegroom, or a Bride.

78

All shew'd as fresh, and faire, and innocent,
As Virgins to their Lovers first survey;
Joy'd as the Spring, when March his sighs has spent,
And April's sweet rash Teares are dry'd by May.

79

And this confed'rate joy so swell'd each Breast,
That joy would turn to pain without a vent;
Therefore their voices Heav'n's renown exprest;
Though Tongues ne'r reach, what Mindes so nobly meant.

80

Yet Musick here, shew'd all her Art's high worth;
Whilst Virgin-Trebles, seem'd, with bashfull grace,
To call the bolder marry'd Tenor forth;
Whose Manly voice challeng'd the Giant Base.

81

To these the swift soft Instruments reply;
Whisp'ring for help to those whom winds inspire;
Whose lowder Notes, to Neighb'ring Forrests flie,
And summon Nature's Voluntary Quire.

82

These Astragon, by secret skill had taught,
To help, as if in artfull Consort bred;
Who sung, as if by chance on him they thought,
Whose care their careless merry Fathers Fed.

83

Hither, with borrow'd strength, Duke Gondibert
Was brought, which now his rip'ning wounds allow;
And high Heav'ns praise in musick of the heart,
He inward sings, to pay a victor's vow.

84

Praise, is devotion fit for mighty Minds!
The diff'ring World's agreeing Sacrifice;
Where Heav'n divided Faiths united findes;
But Pray'r in various discord upward flies.

124

85

For Pray'r the Ocean is, where diverslie
Men steer their Course, each to a sev'ral Coast;
Where all our int'rests so discordant be,
That half beg windes by which the rest are lost.

86

By Penitence, when we our selves forsake,
'Tis but in wise design on pitious Heav'n;
In Praise we nobly give, what God may take,
And are without a Beggers blush forgiv'n.

87

Its utmost force, like Powder's, is unknown!
And though weak Kings excess of Praise may fear,
Yet when tis here, like Powder, dang'rous grown,
Heav'n's Vault receives, what would the Palace tear.

125

Canto the Seventh.

The ARGUMENT.

The Dukes wish'd health in doubtfull wounds assur'd;
Who gets new wounds before the old are cur'd:
Nature in Birtha, Art's weak help derides;
Which strives to mend, what it at best but hides;
Shewes Nature's courser works, so hid, more course;
As Sin conceal'd, and unconfess'd, growes worse.

1

Let none our Lombard Author rudely blame,
Who from the Story has thus long digrest;
But for his righteous paines, may his fair Fame
For ever travail, whilst his Ashes rest.

2

Ill could he leave Art's Shop of Nature's Store;
Where she the hidden Soul would make more known;
Though Common faith seeks Souls, which is no more
Then long Opinion to Religion grown.

3

A while then let this sage Historian stay
With Astragon, till he new wounds reveales,
And such (though now the old are worn away)
As Balm, nor juice of Pyrol, never heales.

4

To Astragon, Heav'n for succession gave
One onely Pledge, and Birtha was her name;
Whose Mother slept, where Flow'rs grew on her Grave;
And she succeeded her in Face, and Fame.

5

Her beauty, Princes, durst not hope to use,
Unless, like Poets, for their Morning Theam;
And her Mindes beauty they would rather chuse,
Which did the light in Beautie's Lanthorn seem.

6

She ne'r saw Courts, yet Courts could have undone
VVith untaught looks, and an unpractis'd heart;
Her Nets, the most prepar'd, could never shun;
For Nature spread them in the scorn of Art.

7

She never had in busie Cities bin;
Ne'r warm'd with hopes, nor ere allay'd with fears;
Not seeing punishment, could guess no Sin;
And Sin not seeing, ne'r had use of tears.

126

8

But here her Fathers's precepts gave her skill,
Which with incessant business fill'd the Houres;
In spring, she gather'd Blossoms for the Still,
In Autumn, Berries; and in Summer, Flowers.

9

And as kinde Nature with calm diligence
Her own free vertue silently imploys,
Whilst she, unheard, does rip'ning growth dispence,
So were her vertues busie without noise.

10

Whilst her great Mistris, Nature, thus she tends,
The busie Houshold waites no less on her;
By secret Law, each to her beauty bends;
Though all her lowly Minde to that prefer.

11

Gracious and free, she breaks upon them all
With Morning looks; and they when she does rise,
Devoutly at her dawn in homage fall,
And droop like Flowers, when Evening shuts her Eyes.

12

The sooty Chymist (who his sight does waste,
Attending lesser Fires) she passing by,
Broke his lov'd Lymbick, through enamour'd haste,
And let, like common Dew, th' Elixer fly.

13

And here the grey Philosophers resort,
Who all to her, like crafty Courtiers, bow;
Hoping for secrets now in Nature's Court;
Which only she (her fav'rite Maid) can know.

14

These, as the Lords of science, she respects,
And with familiar Beams their age she chears;
Yet all those civil formes seem but neglects
To what she shewes, when Astragon apears.

15

For as she once from him her being took,
She hourly takes her Law; reads with swift sight
His will, even at the op'ning of his look,
And shews, by haste, obedience her delight.

16

She makes (when she at distance to him bowes)
His int'rest in her Mother's beauty known;
For that's th' Original whence her Copy growes;
And near Originalls, Copys are not shown.

17

And he, with dear regard, her gifts does weare
Of Flowers, which she in mistick order ties;
And with the sacrifice of many a teare
Salutes her loyal Mother in her Eyes.

18

The just Historians, Birtha thus express;
And tell how by her Syres Example taught,
She serv'd the wounded Duke in Life's distress,
And his fled Spirits back by Cordials brought.

127

19

Black melancholy Mists, that fed dispair
Through wounds long rage, with sprinkled Vervin cleer'd;
Strew'd Leaves of Willow to refresh the air,
And with rich Fumes his sullen sences cheer'd.

20

He that had serv'd great Love with rev'rend heart,
In these old wounds, worse wounds from him endures;
For Love, makes Birtha shift with Death, his Dart,
And she kills faster then her Father cures.

21

Her heedless innocence as little knew
The wounds she gave, as those from Love she took;
And Love lifts high each secret Shaft he drew;
Which at their Stars he first in triumph shook!

22

Love he had lik'd, yet never lodg'd before;
But findes him now a bold unquiet Guest;
Who climbes to windowes, when we shut the Dore;
And enter'd, never lets the Master rest.

23

So strange disorder, now he pines for health,
Makes him conceal this Reveller with shame;
She not the Robber knows, yet feeles the stealth;
And never but in Songs had heard his name.

24

Yet then it was, when she did smile at Hearts
Which Country Lovers wear in bleeding Seals;
Ask'd where his pretty Godhead found such Darts,
As make those wounds that onely Hymen heals.

25

And this, her ancient Maid, with sharp complaints
Heard, and rebuk'd; shook her experienc'd Head;
With teares besought her not to jest at Saints,
Nor mock those Martyrs, Love had Captive led.

26

Nor think the pious Poets e're would waste
So many Teares in Ink, to make Maids mourn,
If injur'd Lovers had in ages paste
The lucky Mirtle, more then Willow worn.

27

This grave rebuke, Officious Memory
Presents to Birtha's thought; who now believ'd
Such sighing Songs, as tell why Lovers dy,
And prais'd their faith, who wept, when Poets griev'd.

28

She, full of inward questions, walks alone,
To take her heart aside in secret Shade;
But knocking at her Breast, it seem'd, or gone,
Or by confed'racie was useless made;

29

Or else some stranger did usurp its room;
One so remote, and new in ev'ry thought,
As his behaviour shews him not at home;
Nor the Guide sober that him thither brought.

128

30

Yet with this forraign Heart, she does begin
To treat of Love, her most unstudy'd Theame;
And like young Conscienc'd Casuists, thinks that sin,
Which will by talk and practise lawfull seeme.

31

With open Eares, and ever-waking Eyes,
And flying Feet, Love's fire she from the sight
Of all her Maids does carry, as from Spys;
Jealous, that what burns her, might give them light.

32

Beneath a Mirtle Covert she does spend
In Maids weak wishes, her whole stock of thought;
Fond Maids! who love, with Mindes fine stuff would mend,
Which Nature purposely of Bodys wrought.

33

She fashions him she lov'd of Angels kinde;
Such as in holy Story were imploy'd
To the first Fathers, from th'Eternal Minde;
And in short vision onely are injoy'd.

34

As Eagles then, when nearest Heav'n they flie,
Of wild impossibles soon weary grow;
Feeling their bodies finde no rest so high,
And therefore pearch on Earthly things below:

35

So now she yields; him she an Angel deem'd
Shall be a Man; the Name which Virgins fear;
Yet the most harmless to a Maid he seem'd,
That ever yet that fatal name did bear.

36

Soon her opinion of his hurtless heart,
Affection turns to faith; and then loves fire
To Heav'n, though bashfully, she does impart;
And to her Mother in the Heav'nly Quire.

37

If I do love, (said she) that love (O Heav'n!)
Your own Disciple, Nature, bred in me;
Why should I hide the passion you have given,
Or blush to shew effects which you decree?

38

And you, my alter'd Mother (grown above
Great Nature, which you read, and reverenc'd here)
Chide not such kindness, as you once call'd Love,
When you as mortal as my Father were.

39

This said, her soul into her Breast retires!
With Love's vain diligence of heart she dreams
Her self into possession of desires,
And trusts unanchor'd Hope in fleeting Streams.

40

Already thinks, the Duke her own spous'd Lord,
Cur'd, and again from bloody Battel brought;
Where all false Lovers perish'd by his sword;
The true to her for his protection sought.

129

41

She thinks, how her imagin'd Spouse and she,
So much from Heav'n, may by her vertues gain;
That they by Time shall ne'r o'retaken be,
No more then Time himself is overta'ne.

42

Or should he touch them as he by does pass,
Heav'n's favour may repay their Summers gone,
And he so mix their sand in a slow Glass,
That they shall live, and not as Two, but One.

43

She thinks of Eden-life; and no rough winde,
In their pacifique Sea shall wrinkles make;
That still her lowliness shall keep him kinde,
Her eares keep him asleep, her voice awake.

44

She thinks, if ever anger in him sway.
(The Youthful Warrior's most excus'd disease)
Such chance her Teares shall calm, as showres allay
The accidental rage of Windes and Seas.

45

She thinks that Babes proceed from mingling Eyes,
Or Heav'n from Neighbourhood increase allows,
As Palm, and the Mamora fructefies;
Or they are got, by closse exchanging vows.

46

But come they (as she hears) from Mothers pain,
(Which by th' unlucky first-Maids longing, proves
A lasting curse) yet that she will sustain,
So they be like this Heav'nly Man she loves.

47

Thus to her self in day-dreams Birtha talkes;
The Duke (whose wounds of war are healthful grown)
To cure Love's wounds, seeks Birtha where she walks;
Whose wandring Soul, seeks him to cure her own.

48

Yet when her solitude he did invade,
Shame (which in Maids is unexperienc'd fear)
Taught her to wish Night's help to make more shade,
That Love (which Maids think guilt) might not appear

49

And she had fled him now, but that he came
So like an aw'd, and conquer'd Enemy,
That he did seem offenceless, as her shame;
As if he but advanc'd for leave to fly.

50

First with a longing Sea-mans look he gaz'd,
Who would ken Land, when Seas would him devour;
Or like a fearfull Scout, who stands amaz'd
To view the Foe, and multiplies their pow'r.

51

Then all the knowledge which her Father had
He dreams in her, through purer Organs wrought;
Whose Soul (since there more delicately clad)
By lesser weight, more active was in thought.

130

52

And to that Soul thus spake, with tremb'ling voice;
The world will be (O thou, the whole world's Maid!)
Since now tis old enough to make wise choice,
Taught by thy minde, and by thy beauty sway'd.

53

And I a needless part of it, unless
You think me for the whole a Delegate,
To treat for what they want of your excess,
Vertue to serve the universal State.

54

Nature (our first example, and our Queen,
Whose Court this is, and you her Minion Maid)
The World thinks now, is in her sickness seen,
And that her noble influence is decay'd.

55

And the Records so worn of her first Law,
That Men, with Art's hard shifts, read what is good;
Because your beauty many never saw,
The Text by which your Minde is understood.

56

And I with the apostate world should grow,
From sov'raigne Nature, a revolted Slave,
But that my lucky wounds brought me to know,
How with their cure my sicker minde to save.

57

A minde still dwelling idly in mine Eyes,
Where it from outward pomp could ne'r abstain;
But even in beauty, cost of Courts did prise,
And Nature, unassisted, thought too plain.

58

Yet by your beauty now reform'd, I finde
All other only currant by false light;
Or but vain Visions of a feav'rish minde;
Too slight to stand the test of waking sight.

59

And for my healthfull Minde (diseas'd before)
My love I pay; a gift you may disdain,
Since Love to you, Men give not, but restore;
As Rivers to the Sea pay back the Rain.

60

Yet Eastern Kings, who all by birth possess,
Take gifts, as gifts, from vassals of the Crown;
So think in love, your property not less,
By my kind giving what was first your own.

61

Lifted with Love, thus he with Lovers grace,
And Love's wilde wonder, spake; and he was rais'd
So much with rev'rence of this learned place,
That still he fear'd to injure all he prais'd.

62

And she in love unpractis'd and unread,
(But for some hints her Mistress, Nature, taught)
Had it, till now, like grief with silence fed;
For Love and grief are nourish'd best with thought.

131

63

But this closs Diet, Love endures not long;
He must in sighs, or speech, take ayre abroad;
And thus, with his Interpreter, her Tongue,
He ventures forth, though like a stranger aw'd.

64

She said, those vertues now she highly needs,
Which he so artfully in her does praise,
To check (since vanity on praises feeds)
That pride which his authentick words may raise.

65

That if her Pray'rs, or care, did ought restore
Of absent health, in his bemoan'd distress;
She beg'd, he would approve her duty more,
And so commend her feeble vertue less.

66

That she the payment he of love would make
Less understood, then yet the debt she knew;
But coynes unknown, suspitiously we take,
And debts, till manifest, are never due.

67

With bashfull Looks she sought him to retire,
Least the sharp Ayre should his new health invade;
And as she spake, she saw her rev'rend Syre
Approach to seek her in her usual shade.

68

To whom with filial homage she does bow:
The Duke did first at distant duty stand,
But soon imbrac'd his knees; whil'st he more low
Does bend to him, and then reach'd Birtha's hand.

69

Her Face, o'recast with thought, does soon betray
Th' assembled spirits, which his Eyes detect
By her pale look, as by the Milkie way
Men first did the assembled Stars suspect.

70

Or as a Pris'ner, that in Prison pines,
Still at the utmost window grieving lies;
Even so her Soule, imprison'd, sadly shines,
As if it watch'd for freedome at her Eyes!

71

This guides him to her Pulse, th' Alarum Bell,
Which waits the insurrections of desire;
And rings so fast, as if the Cittadell,
Her newly conquer'd Breast, were all on fire!

72

Then on the Duke, he casts a short survay;
Whose Veines, his Temples, with deep purple grace;
Then Love's dispaire gives them a pale allay;
And shifts the whole complexion of his Face.

73

Nature's wise Spy does onward with them walk;
And findes, each in the midst of thinking starts;
Breath'd short, and swiftly in disorder'd talk,
To cool, beneath Love's Torrid Zone, their hearts.

132

74

When all these Symptomes he observ'd, he knowes
From Alga, which is rooted deep in Seas,
To the high Cedar that on Mountaines grows,
No sov'raign hearb is found for their disease.

75

He would not Nature's eldest Law resist,
As if wise Natures Law could be impure;
But Birtha with indulgent Looks dismist,
And means to counsel, what he cannot cure.

76

With mourning Gondibert he walks apart,
To watch his Passions force; who seems to bear
By silent grief, Two Tyrants o're his Heart,
Great Love, and his inferior Tyrant, Fear.

77

But Astragon such kind inquiries made,
Of all which to his Art's wise cares belong,
As his sick silence he does now disswade,
And midst Lov's fears, gives courage to his Tongue.

78

Then thus he spake with Love's humility;
Have pitty Father! and since first so kinde,
You would not let this worthless Body die,
Vouchsafe more nobly to preserve my Minde!

79

A Minde so lately lucky, as it here
Has Vertues Mirror found, which does reflect
Such blemishes as Custom made it weare,
But more authentick Nature does detect.

80

A Minde long sick of Monarchs vain disease;
Not to be fill'd, because with glory fed;
So busie it condemn'd even War of ease,
And for their useless rest despis'd the Dead.

81

But since it here has Vertue quiet found,
It thinks (though Storms were wish'd by it before)
All sick at least at Sea, that scape undrown'd,
Whom Glory serves as winde, to leave the shore.

82

All Vertue is to yours but fashion now,
Religion, Art; Internals are all gon,
Or outward turn'd, to satisfie with show,
Not God, but his inferiour Eye, the Sun.

83

And yet, though vertue be as fashion sought,
And now Religion rules by Art's prais'd skill;
Fashion is Vertue's Mimmick, falsely taught;
And Art, but Nature's Ape, which plays her ill.

84

To this blest House (great Nature's Court) all Courts
Compar'd, are but dark Closets for retreat
Of private Mindes, Battels but Childrens sports;
And onely simple good, is solid great.

133

85

Let not the Minde, thus freed from Error's Night,
(Since you repriev'd my Body from the Grave)
Perish for being now in love with light,
But let your Vertue, Vertue's Lover save.

86

Birtha I love; and who loves wisely so,
Steps far tow'rds all which Vertue can attain;
But if we perish, when tow'rds Heav'n we go,
Then have I learnt that Vertue is in vain.

87

And now his Heart (extracted through his Eyes
In Love's Elixer, Tears) does soon subdue
Old Astragon; whose pity, though made wise
With Love's false Essences, likes these as true.

88

The Duke he to a secret Bowre does lead,
Where he his Youths first Story may attend;
To guess, ere he will let his love proceed,
By such a dawning, how his day will end.

89

For Vertue, though a rarely planted Flowre,
Was in the seed by this wise Florist known;
Who could foretell, even in her springing houre,
What colours she shall wear when fully blown.

134

Canto the Eighth.

The ARGUMENT.

Birtha her first unpractis'd Love bewailes,
Whilst Gondibert on Astragon prevailes,
By shewing, high Ambition is of use,
And Glory in the Good needs no excuse.
Goltho a grief to Ulfinore reveales,
Whilst he a greater of his own conceales.

1

Birtha her griefs to her Apartment brought,
Where all her Maids to Heav'n were us'd to raise
Their voices, whilst their busie Fingers wrought
To deck the Altar of the House of Praise.

2

But now she findes their Musick turn'd to care;
Their looks allay'd, like beauty overworn;
Silent and sad as with'ring Fav'rites are,
Who for their sick indulgent Monarch mourn.

3

Thula (the eldest of this silenc'd Quire)
When Birtha at this change astonish'd was,
With hasty whisper, begg'd her to retire;
And on her Knees, thus tells their sorrows cause.

4

Forgive me such experience, as too soon,
Shew'd me unlucky Love; by which I guess
How Maids are by their innocence undon,
And trace those sorrows that them first oppress.

5

Forgive such passion as to speech perswades,
And to my Tongue my observation brought;
And then forgive my Tongue, which to your Maids,
Too rashly carry'd, what Experience taught.

6

For since I saw this wounded stranger here
Your inward musick still untun'd has been;
You who could need no hope, have learnt to fear,
And practis'd grief, e're you did know to Sin.

7

This being love, to Agatha I told;
Did on her Tongue, as on still Death rely;
But winged Love, she was too young to hold,
And, wanton-like, let it to others fly.

135

8

Love, who in whisper scap'd, did publick grow;
Which makes them now their time in silence waste;
Makes their neglectected needles move so slow,
And through their Eies, their Hearts dissolve so faste.

9

For oft, dire tales of Love has fill'd their Heads;
And while they doubt you in that Tyrant's pow'r,
The Spring (they think) may visit Woods and Meads,
But scarce shall hear a Bird, or see a Flow'r.

10

Ah how (said Birtha) shall I dare confesse
My griefs to thee, Love's rash, impatient Spie;
Thou (Thula) who didst run to tell thy guesse,
With secrets known, wilt to confession flie.

11

But if I love this Prince, and have in Heav'n
Made any Friends by vowes, you need not fear
He will make good the feature, Heav'n has giv'n;
And be as harmless as his looks appear.

12

Yet I have heard, that Men whom Maids think kinde,
Calm, as forgiven Saints, at their last Hour,
Oft prove like Seas, inrag'd by ev'ry winde,
And all to who their Bosoms trust, devour.

13

Howe're, Heav'n knows, (the witness of the Minde)
My heart bears Men no malice, nor esteems
Young Princes of the common cruel kinde,
Nor Love so foul as it in Story seems.

14

Yet if this Prince brought Love, what e're it be,
I must suspect, though I accuse it not;
For since he came, my medc'nal Huswiffrie,
Confections, and my Stills, are all forgot.

15

Blossoms in windes, Berries in Frosts may fall!
And Flowers sink down in Rain! for I no more
Shall Maids to woods, for early gath'rings call,
Nor haste to Gardens to prevent a showre.

16

Then she retires; and now a lovely shame
That she reveal'd so much, possess'd her Cheecks;
In a dark Lanthorn she would bear Love's flame,
To hide her self, whilst she her Lover seeks.

17

And to that Lover let our Song return:
Whose Tale so well was to her Father told,
As the Philosopher did seem to mourn
That Youth had reach'd such worth, and he so old.

18

Yet Birtha was so precious in his Eies,
And her dead Mother still so neer his mind
That farther yet he thus his prudence tries,
Ere such a Pledg he to his trust resign'd.

136

19

Whoe're (said he) in thy first story looks,
Shall praise thy wise conversing with the Dead;
For with the Dead he lives, who is with Books,
And in the Camp (Death's moving Palace) bred.

20

Wise Youth, in Books and Batails early findes
What thoughtless lazy Men perceive too late;
Books shew the utmost conquests of our Mindes,
Batails, the best of our lov'd Bodys fate.

21

Yet this great breeding, joyn'd with Kings high blood
(Whose blood Ambition's feaver over-heats)
May spoile digestion, which would else be good,
As stomachs are deprav'd with highest Meats.

22

For though Books serve as Diet of the Minde;
If Knowledg, early got, self vallew breeds,
By false digestion it is turn'd to winde;
And what should nourish, on the Eater feeds.

23

Though Wars great shape best educates the sight,
And makes small soft'ning objects less our care;
Yet War, when urg'd for glory, more then right,
Shews Victors but authentick Murd'rers are.

24

And I may fear that your last Victories
Where Glory's Toyles, and you will ill abide
(Since with new Trophies still you fed your Eies)
Those little objects which in Shades we hide.

25

Could you, in Fortunes smiles, foretell her frowns,
Our old Foes slain, you would not hunt for new;
But Victors, after wreaths, pretend to Crowns;
And such think Rhodalind their Valor's due.

26

To this the noble Gondibert replies;
Think not Ambition can my duty sway;
I look on Rhodalind with Subjects Eies,
Whom he that conquers, must in right obay.

27

And though I humanly have heretofore
All beauty lik'd, I never lov'd till now;
Nor think a Crown can raise his value more,
To whom already Heav'n does Love allow.

28

Though, since I gave the Hunns their last defeat,
I have the Lombards Ensignes onward led,
Ambition kindled not this Victor's heat,
But 'tis a warmth my Fathers prudence bred.

29

Who cast on more then Wolvish Man his Eie,
Man's necessary hunger judg'd, and saw
That caus'd not his devouring Maledy;
But like a wanton whelp he loves to gnaw.

137

30

Man still is sick for pow'r, yet that disease
Nature (whose Law is temp'rance) ne'r inspires;
But 'tis a humor, which fond Man does please,
A luxury, fruition only tires.

31

And as in persons, so in publick States,
The lust of Pow'r provokes to cruel Warre;
For wisest Senates it intoxicates,
And makes them vain, as single persons are.

32

Men into Nations it did first divide;
Whilst place, scarce distant, gives them diff'rent stiles;
Rivers, whose breadth Inhabitants may stride,
Parts them as much as Continents, and Isles.

33

On equal, smooth, and undistinguish'd Ground,
The lust of pow'r does liberty impair,
And limits by a Border and a Bound,
What was before as passable as Air:

34

Whilst change of Languages oft breeds a warre,
(A change which Fashion does as oft obtrude
As womens dresse) and oft Complexions are,
And diff'rent names, no less a cause of feud.

35

Since Men so causelesly themselves devour;
(And hast'ning still, their else too hasty Fates,
Act but continu'd Massacres for pow'r,)
My Father ment to chastise Kings, and States.

36

To overcome the world, till but one Crown
And universal Neighbourhood he saw;
Till all were rich by that allyance grown;
And want no more should be the cause of Law.

37

One Family the world was first design'd;
And though some fighting Kings so sever'd are,
That they must meet by help of Seas and Winde,
Yet when they fight 'tis but a civil warre.

38

Nor could Religion's heat, if one rul'd all,
To bloody War the unconcern'd allure;
And hasten us from Earth, ere Age does call,
Who are (alas) of Heav'n so little sure.

39

Religion, ne'r till divers Monarchys,
Taught that almighty Heav'n needs Armys ayd;
But with contentious Kings she now complies,
Who seem, for their own cause, of God's afraid.

40

To joyn all sever'd Powr's (which is to end
The cause of War) my Father onward fought;
By War the Lombard Scepter to extend
Till peace were forc'd, where it was slowly sought.

138

41

He lost in this attempt his last dear blood;
And I (whom no remoteness can deterr,
If what seems difficult, be great and good)
Thought his Example could not make me err.

42

No place I merit in the Book of Fame!
Whose leaves are by the Greeks and Romans fill'd;
Yet I presume to boast, she knows my name,
And she has heard to whom the Hunns did yield.

43

But let not what so needfully was done,
Though still pursu'd, make you ambition feare;
For could I force all Monarchys to one,
That Universal Crown I would not weare.

44

He who does blindly soar at Rhodalind,
Mounts like seel'd Doves, still higher from his ease;
And in the lust of Empire he may finde,
High Hope does better then Fruition please.

45

The Victor's solid recompence is rest;
And 'tis unjust, that chiefs who pleasure shunn,
Toyling in Youth, should be in age opprest
With greater Toyles, by ruling what they wonn.

46

Here all reward of conquest I would finde;
Leave shining Thrones for Birtha in a shade;
With Nature's quiet wonders fill my minde;
And praise her most, because she Birtha made.

47

Now Astragon (with joy suffic'd) perceiv'd
How nobly Heav'n for Birtha did provide,
Oft had he for her parted Mother griev'd,
But can this joy, less then that sorrow hide.

48

With teares, bids Gondibert to Heav'n's Eie make
All good within, as to the World he seems;
And in gain'd Birtha then from Hymen take
All youth can wish, and all his age esteems.

49

Strait to his lov'd Philosophers he hies,
Who now at Nature's Councel busy are
To trace new Lights, which some old Gazer spies;
Whilst the Duke seeks more busily his Starre,

50

But in her search, he is by Goltho stay'd;
Who in a close dark Covert foldes his Armes;
His Eies with thoughts grow darker then that shade,
Such thoughts as yielding Breasts with study warmes.

51

Fix'd to unheeded object is his Eie!
His sences he calls in, as if t'improve
By outward absence, inward extacie,
Such as makes Prophets, or is made by Love.

139

52

Awake (said Gondibert) for now in vain
Thou dream'st of Sov'raignty, and War's success;
Hope, nought has left, which Worth should wish to gain;
And all Ambition is but Hope's excess.

53

Bid all our Worthys to unarm, and rest!
For they have nought to conquer worth their care;
I have a Father's right in Birtha's Breast,
And that's the peace for which the wise make warre.

54

At this starts Goltho, like some Army's Chief,
Whom unintrench'd, a midnight Larum wakes;
By pawse then gave disorder'd sence relief,
And this reply with kindled passion makes.

55

What means my Prince to make so low a boast,
Whose merit may aspire to Rhodalind?
For who could Birtha miss if she were lost,
That shall by worth the others treasure find?

56

When your high blood, and conquests shall submit
To such mean joys, in this unminded shade,
Let Courts, without Heav'n's Lamps, in darkness sit,
And War become the lowly Shepheard's Trade.

57

Birtha, (a harmless Country Ornament!)
May be his Bride, that's born himself to serve;
But you must pay that blood your Army spent;
And wed that Empire which our wounds deserve.

58

This brought the Duke's swift anger to his Eies;
Which his consid'rate Heart rebuk'd as faste;
He Goltho chid, in that he nought replies;
Leaves him, and Birtha seeks with Lovers haste.

59

Now Goltho mourns, yet not that Birtha's fair;
Or that the Duke shuns Empire for a Bride;
But that himself must joyn love to despair;
Himself who loves her, and his love must hide.

60

He curs'd that him the wounded hither brought
From Oswald's Field, where though he wounds did scape
In tempting Death, and here no danger sought,
Yet here meet worse then Death in Beauty's shape.

61

He was unus'd to love, as bred in warres;
And not till now for beauty leasure had;
Yet bore Love's load, as Youth bears other Cares;
Till new dispair makes Love's old weight too sad.

62

But Ulfinore, does hither aptly come,
His second Breast, in whom his griefs excesse
He may ebb out, where they o'reflow at home;
Such griefs, as thus in Throngs for utt'rance press.

140

63

Forgive me that so falsly am thy Friend!
No more our Hearts for kindness shall contest;
Since mine I hourly on another spend,
And now imbrace thee with an empty Brest.

64

Yet pard'ning me, you cancel Natur's fault;
Who walks with her first force in Birtha's shape;
And when she spreads the Net to have us caught,
It were in youth presumption to escape.

65

When Birtha's grief so comely did appear.
Whilst she beheld our wounded Duk's distresse;
Then first my alter'd Heart began to fear,
Least too much Love should friendship dispossesse;

66

But this whilst Ulfinore with sorrow hears,
Him Goltho's busier sorrow little heeds;
And though he could replie in sighs and tears,
Yet governs both, and Goltho thus proceeds.

67

To Love's new dangers I have gone unarm'd;
I lack'd experience why to be affraid;
Was too unlearn'd to read whom Love had harm'd;
But have his will as Nature's law obay'd.

68

Th' obedient and defencelesse, sure, no law
Afflicts, for law is their defence, and pow'r;
Yet me, Loves sheep, whom rigour needs not aw,
Wolf-Love, because defencelesse, does devour:

69

Gives me not time to perish by degrees,
But with dispair does me at once destroy;
For none who Gondibert a Lover sees,
Thinks he would love, but where he may enjoy.

70

Birtha he loves; and I from Birtha fear
Death that in rougher Figure I despise!
This Ulfinore did with distemper hear,
Yet with dissembled temp'rance thus replies.

71

Ah Goltho! who Love's Feaver can asswage?
For though familiar seem that old disease;
Yet like Religion's fit, when People rage,
Few cure those evils which the Patient please.

72

Natures Religion, Love, is still perverse;
And no commerce with cold discretion hath,
For if Discretion speak when Love is fierce,
'Tis wav'd by Love, as Reason is by Faith.

73

As Gondibert left Goltho when he heard
His Saint profan'd, as if some Plague were nie;
So Goltho now leaves Ulfinore, and fear'd
To share such veng'ance, if he did not flie.

141

74

How each at home o're-rates his miserie,
And thinks that all are musical abroad,
Unfetter'd as the Windes, whilst onely he
Of all the glad and licens'd world is aw'd?

75

And as Cag'd Birds are by the Fowler set
To call in more, whilst those that taken be,
May think (though they are Pris'ners in the Net)
Th' incag'd, because they sing, sometimes are free:

76

So Goltho (who by Ulfinore was brought
Here where he first Love's dangers did perceive
In Beauty's Field) thinks though himself was caught,
Th' inviter safe, because not heard to grieve.

77

But Ulfinore (whom Neighbourhood led here)
Impressions took before from Birtha's sight;
Ideas which in silence hidden were,
As Heav'n's designes before the birth of Light.

78

This from his Father Ulfin he did hide,
Who, strict to Youth, would not permit the best
Reward of worth, the Bosome of a Bride,
Should be but after Vertuous toyles possest.

79

For Ulfinore (in blooming honor yet)
Though he had learnt the count'nance of the Foe,
And though his courage could dull Armys whet,
The care o're Crouds, nor Conduct could not know;

80

Nor varie Batails shapes in the Foes view;
But now in forraigne Fields meanes to improve
His early Arts, to what his Father knew,
That merit so might get him leave to love.

81

Till then, check'd passion, shall not venture forth:
And now retires with a disorder'd Heart;
Griev'd, least his Rival should by early'r worth
Get Love's reward, ere he can gain desert.

82

But stop we here, like those who day-light lack;
Or as misguided Travailers that rove,
Oft finde their way by going somewhat back;
So let's return, thou ill Conductor Love!

83

Thy little wanton Godhead as my Guide
I have attended many'a winter night;
To seek whom Time for honor's sake would hide,
Since in mine age sought by a wasted light,

84

But ere my remnant of Life's Lamp be spent,
Whilst I in Lab'rinths stray amongst the Dead;
I mean to recollect the paths I went,
And judge from thence the steps I am to tread.

142

85

Thy walk (though as a common Deitie
The Croud does follow thee) misterious grows
For Rhodalind may now closs Mourner die,
Since Gondibert, too late, her sorrow knows.

86

Young Hurgonil above dear light prefers
Calm Orna, who his highest Love outloves;
Yet envious Clouds in Lombard Registers
O'recast their Morn, what e're their Evening proves.

87

For fatal Laura, trusty Tybalt pines;
For haughty Gartha, subtle Hermegild;
Whilst she her beauty, youth, and birth declines;
And as to Fate, does to Ambition yield.

88

Great Gondibert, to bashful Birtha bends;
Whom she adores like Vertue in a Throne;
Whilst Ulfinore and Goltho (late vow'd Friends
By him) are now his Rivals, and their owne.

89

Through ways thus intricate to Lovers Urnes,
Thou lead'st me Love, to shew thy Trophies past;
Where Time (less cruel then thy Godhead) mournes
In ruines which thy pride would have to last.

90

Where I on Lombard Monuments have read
Old Lovers names, and their fam'd Ashes spy'd;
But less can learn by knowing they are dead,
And such their Tombes; then how they liv'd, and dy'd.

91

To Paphos flie! and leave me sullen here!
This Lamp shall light me to Records which give
To future Youth, so just a cause of feare,
That it will Valor seem to dare to live!

The End of the Second Book.