 | Coopers Hill |  |
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Coopers Hill.
Sure we have Poets, that did never dreameUpon Parnassus, nor did taste the streame
Of Helicon, and therefore I suppose
Those made not Poets, but the Poets those.
And as Courts make not Kings, but Kings the Court,
So where the Muses and their Troopes resort,
Parnassus stands, if I can be to thee,
A Poet, thou Parnassus art to mee.
Nor wonder, if (advantag'd in my flight,
By taking wing from thy auspicious height)
Through untract wayes and ayry paths I flye,
More boundlesse in my fancy then my eye,
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On Pauls, as men from thence upon the towne.
Pauls the late Theme of such a Muse, whose flight
Hath bravely reacht and soard above thy height:
Now shalt thou stand, though Time, or Sword, or Fire,
Or Zeale (more fierce then they) thy fall conspire,
Secure, while thee the best of Poets sings,
Preserv'd from ruine by the best of Kings.
As those who rais'd in body, or in thought
Above the Earth, or the Ayres middle Vault,
Behold how winds, and stormes, and Meteors grow,
How clouds condense to raine, congeale to snow,
And see the Thunder form'd, before it teare
The ayre, secure from danger and from feare,
So rais'd above the tumult and the crowd
I see the City in a thicker cloud
Of businesse, then of smoake, where men like Ants
Toyle to prevent imaginarie wants;
Yet all in vaine, increasing with their store,
Their vast desires, but make their wants the more.
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The Appetite, feeds onely the disease,
Where with like haste, though severall wayes they runne
Some to undoe, and some to be undone:
While Luxurie, and wealth, like Warre and Peace,
Are each the others ruine, and increase,
As Rivers lost in Seas some secret veine
Thence reconveighs, there to be lost againe.
Some study plots, and some those plots t'undoe,
Others to make 'em, and undoe 'em too,
False to their hopes, afraid to be secure
Those mischiefes onely which they make, endure,
Blinded with light, and sicke of being well,
In tumults seeke their peace, their heaven in hell.
Oh happinesse of sweet retir'd content!
To be at once secure, and innocent.
Windsor the next (where Mars with Venus dwels,
Beauty with strength) above the valley swels
Into my eye, as the late married Dame,
(Who proud, yet seems to make that pride her shame)
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Her wishes past, and now her hopes to come:
With such an easie, and unforc'd Ascent,
Windsor her gentle bosome doth present;
Where no stupendious Cliffe, no threatning heights
Accesse deny, no horrid steepe affrights,
But such a Rise, as doth at once invite
A pleasure, and a reverence from the sight.
Thy Masters Embleme, in whose face I saw
A friend-like sweetnesse, and a King-like aw,
Where Majestie and love so mixt appeare,
Both gently kinde, both royally severe.
So Windsor, humble in it selfe, seemes proud,
To be the Base of that Majesticke load,
Than which no hill a nobler burthen beares,
But Atlas onely, that supports the spheres.
Nature this mount so fitly did advance,
We might conclude, that nothing is by chance
So plac't, as if she did on purpose raise
The Hill, to rob the builder of his praise.
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That which a blind man onely could refuse;
Such are the Towers which th' hoary Temples grac'd
Of Cibele, when all her heavenly race
Doe homage to her, yet she cannot boast
Amongst that Numerous, and Celestiall hoast
More Heroes, than can Windsor, nor doth Fames
Immortall booke record more noble Names.
Not to looke backe so farre, to whom this Ile
Must owe the glory of so brave a Pile,
Whether to Cæsar, Albanact, or Brute,
The Brittish Arthur, or the Danish Knute,
(Though this of old no lesse contest did move,
Then when for Homers birth seaven Cities strove)
(Like him in birth, thou shouldst be like in Fame,
As thine his fate, if mine had beene his Flame)
But whosoere it was, Nature designd
First a brave place, and then as brave a minde.
Nor to recount those severall Kings, to whom
It gave a Cradle, or to whom a Tombe,
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He that the Lyllies wore, and he that wonne,
And thy Bellona who deserves her share
In all thy glories, Of that royall paire
Which waited on thy triumph, she brought one,
Thy sonne the other brought, and she that sonne
Nor of lesse hopes could her great off-spring prove,
A Royall Eagle cannot breed a Dove.
Then didst thou found that Order: whether love
Or victory thy Royall thoughts did move,
Each was a Noble cause, nor was it lesse
I'th institution, then the great successe,
Whilst every part conspires to give it grace,
The King, the Cause, the Patron, and the Place,
Which forraigne Kings, and Emperors esteeme
The second honour to their Diademe.
Had thy great destiny but given thee skill
To know as well, as Power to act her will,
That from those Kings, who then thy captives were,
In after-times should spring a Royall paire,
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Or thy desires more mighty did devoure;
To whom their better fate reserves what ere
The Victor hopes for, or the vanquisht feare,
That blood, which thou, and thy great Grandsire shed,
And all that since these sister Nations bled,
Had beene unspilt, had happy Edward knowne
That all the blood he spilt, had been his owne,
Thou hadst extended through the conquer'd East,
Thine and the Christian name, and made them blest
To serve thee, while that losse this gaine would bring,
Christ for their God, and Edward for their King;
When thou that Saint thy Patron didst designe,
In whom the Martyr, and the Souldier joyne;
And when thou didst within the Azure round,
(Who evill thinks may evill him confound)
The English Armes encircle, thou didst seeme
But to foretell, and Prophecie of him,
Who has within that Azure round confin'd
These Realmes, which Nature for their bound design'd.
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Endlesse her selfe, her liquid armes extends;
In whose Heroicke face I see the Saint
Better exprest then in the liveliest paint,
That fortitude which made him famous here,
That heavenly piety, which Saints him there,
Who when this Order he forsakes, may he
Companion of that sacred Order be.
Here could I fix my wonder, but our eyes,
Nice as our tastes, affect varieties;
And though one please him most, the hungry guest
Tasts every dish, and runs through all the feast;
So having tasted Windsor, casting round
My wandring eye, an emulous Hill doth bound,
My more contracted sight, whose top of late
A Chappell crown'd, till in the common fate,
The neighbouring Abbey fell, (may no such storme
Fall on our times, where ruine must reforme)
Tell me (my Muse) what monstrous dire offence?
What crime could any Christian King incense
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Was he so temperate, so chast, so just?
Were these their crimes; they were his owne, much more
But they (alas) were rich, and he was poore;
And having spent the treasures of his Crowne,
Condemnes their Luxurie, to feed his owne;
And yet this act, to varnish o're the shame
Of sacriledge, must beare devotions name,
And he might thinke it just the cause, and time
Considered well, for none commits a crime
Appearing such, but as 'tis understood,
A reall, or at least a seeming good.
While for the Church his learned Pen disputes
His much more learned sword his Pen confutes,
Thus to the Ages past he makes amends,
Their charity destroyes, their faith defends.
Then did Religion in a lazie Cell,
In emptie, ayrie contemplations dwell;
And like the blocke unmoved lay, but ours
As much too active like the Storke devours.
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Betwixt their frigid, and our Torrid Zone?
Could we not wake from that Lethargicke dreame,
But to be restlesse in a worse extreame?
And for that Lethargy was there no cure,
But to be cast into a Calenture?
Can knowledge have no bound, but must advance
So farre, to make us wish for ignorance?
And rather in the darke to grope our way,
Then led by a false guide to erre by day?
Parting from thence 'twixt anger, shame, and feare
Those for what's past, and this for what's too neare:
My eye discending from the Hill, survayes
Where Thames amongst the wanton valleyes strayes.
Thames the most loud of all the Oceans sonnes,
By his old sire to his imbraces runnes,
Hasting to pay his tribute to the Sea,
Like mortall life to meet Eternity,
And though his clearer sand no golden veynes,
[illeg.] Tagus, and Pactolus streames containes
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Search not his bottome, but behold his shore;
O're which he kindly spreads his spacious wing,
And hatches plenty for th' ensuing Spring,
Nor with a furious, and unruly wave,
Like profuse Kings, resumes the wealth he gave,
No unexpected Inundations spoyle,
The Mowers hopes, nor mocke the Plough-mans toyle;
Then like a Lover he forsakes his shores,
Whose stay with jealous eyes his spouse implores;
Till with a parting kisse he saves her teares,
And promising returne, secures her feares;
As a wise King first settles fruitfull peace
In his owne Realmes, and with their rich increase,
Seekes warre abroad, and then in triumph brings
The spoyles of Kingdomes, and the Crownes of Kings.
So Thames to London doth at first present
Those tributes, which the neighbouring countries sent,
But as his second visit from the East,
Spices he brings, and treasures from the West.
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Cities in Desarts, woods in Cities plants,
Rounds the whole Globe, and with his flying towers
Brings home to us, and makes both Indies ours,
So that to us no thing, no place is strange
Whilst thy faire bosome is the worlds Exchange:
O could my verse freely and smoothly flow,
As thy pure food, heaven should no longer know
Her old Eridanus thy purer streame,
Should bathe the gods, and be the Poets Theame
Here Nature whether more intent to please
Us or her selfe with strange varieties,
(For things of wonder more, no lesse delight
To the wise makers, then beholders sight.
Though these delights from severall causes move,
For so our children thus our friends we love)
Wisely she knew the harmony of things
As well, as that of sounds from discords springs,
Such was the discord, which did first disperse
Forme, order, beauty through the universe;
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All that we have, and that we are subsists:
While the steepe horrid roughnesse of the wood
Strives with the gentle calmnesse of the flood.
Such huge extremes, when Nature doth unite
Wonder from thence results, from thence delight,
The streame is so transparent, pure, and cleare,
That had the selfe-enamourd youth gaz'd here,
So fatally deceiv'd he had not beene,
While he the bottome, not his face had seene.
And such the roughnesse of the Hill, on which
Dyana her toyles, and Mars his tents might pitch.
And as our surly supercilious Lords,
Bigge in their frownes, and haughty in their words,
Looke downe on those, whose humble fruitfull paine
Their proud, and barren greatnesse must susteine:
So lookes the Hill upon the streame, betweene
There lies a spatious, and a fertile Greene,
Where from the woods, the Dryades oft meet
The Nayades, and with their nimble feet,
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All but a quicke Poeticke sight escape,
There Faunus and Sylvanus keepe their Courts,
And thither all the horrid hoast resorts.
(When like the Elixar, with his evening beames,
The Sunne has turn'd to gold the silver streames)
To graze the ranker Meade, that noble heard,
On whose sublime, and shady fronts is rear'd
Natures great Master-piece, to shew how soone
Great things are made, but sooner much undone.
Here have I seene our Charles, when great affaires
Give leave to slacken, and unbend his cares,
Chacing the royall Stagge, the gallant beast,
Rowz'd with the noyse 'twixt hope and feare distrest,
Resolv's 'tis better to avoyd, then meet
His danger, trusting to his winged feet:
But when he sees the dogs, now by the view
Now by the scent his speed with speed pursue,
He tries his friends, amongst the lesser Heard,
Where he but lately was obey'd, and feard,
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Or chases him from thence, or from him flies,
Like a delcining Statesman, left forlorne
To his friends pitty, and pursuers scorne.
Wearied, forsaken, and pursude at last
All safety in despaire of safety plac't.
Courage he thence assumes, resolv'd to beare
All their assaults, since 'tis in vaine to feare,
But when he sees the eager chase renu'd
Himselfe by dogs, the dogs by men pursu'd.
When neither speed, nor art, nor friends, nor force
Could helpe him towards the streame he bends his course.
Hoping those lesser beasts would not assay
An Element, more mercilesse then they.
But fearelesse they pursue, nor can the flood
Quench their dire thirst (alas) they thirst for blood.
As some brave Hero, whom his baser foes
In troops surround, now these assaile, now those
Though prodigall of life, disdains to die
By vulgar hands, but if he can descry
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And begs his fate, and then contented fals:
So the tall Stagge, amids the lesser hounds
Repels their force, and wounds returne for wounds,
Till Charles from his unerring hand lets flie
A mortall shaft, then glad, and proud to dye
By such a wound he fals, the Chrystall flood
Dying he dyes, and purples with his blood:
This a more Innocent, and happy chase
Then when of old, but in the selfe-same place,
Faire liberty pursude, and meant a Prey
To tyranny, here turn'd, and stood at bay.
When in that remedy all hope was plac't
Which was, or should have been at least the last.
For armed subjects can have no pretence
Against their Princes, but their just defence,
And whether then, or no, I leave to them
To justifie, who else themselves condemne:
Yet might the fact be just, if we may guesse
The justnesse of an action from successe
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All markes of Arbitrary power layes downe:
Tyrant and Slave, those names of hate and feare,
The happier style of King and Subject beare:
Happy when both to the same Center move,
When Kings give liberty, and Subjects love.
Therefore not long in force this Charter stood
Wanting that seale, it must be seal'd in blood.
The Subjects arm'd, the more their Princes gave,
But this advantage tooke, the more to crave:
Till Kings by giving, give themselves away,
And even that power, that should deny, betray,
“Who gives constrain'd, but his owne feare reviles
“Not thank't, but scorn'd, nor are they gifts, but spoyles.
And they, whom no denyall can withstand,
Seeme but to aske, while they indeed command.
Thus all to limit Royalty conspire,
While each forgets to limit his desire.
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Being forc't, their courage from despaire recall.
When a calme River rais'd with sudden raines,
Or Snowes dissolv'd o'reflowes th' adjoyning Plaines
The Husbandmen with high rais'd bankes secure
Their greedy hopes, and this he can endure,
But if with Bogs, and Dammes they strive to force,
His channell to a new, or narrow course.
No longer then within his bankes he dwels,
First to a Torrent, then a Deluge swels
Stronger, and fiercer by restraint he roares,
And knowes no bound, but makes his powers his shores:
Thus Kings by grasping more then they can hold,
First made their Subjects by oppressions bold,
And popular sway by forcing Kings to give
More, then was fit for Subjects to receive,
Ranne to the same extreame, and one excesse
Made both by stirring to be greater, lesse.
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Makes either loose, what each possest before.
Therefore their boundlesse power tell Princes draw
Within the Channell, and the shores of Law,
And may that Law, which teaches Kings to sway
Their Scepters, teach their Subjects to obey.
FINIS.
| Coopers Hill | |