The Poetry of George Wither :: :: University of Virginia Library

Bright northern star, and fair Minerva's peer,
Sweet lady of this day, Great Britain's dear
Lo, thy poor vassal that was erst so rude
With his most rustic Satyrs to intrude,
Once more like a poor sylvan now draws near,
And in thy sacred presence dares appear.
Oh, let not that sweet bow, thy brow, be bent
To scare him with a shaft of discontent:
One look with anger, nay, thy gentlest frown,
Is twice enough to cast a greater down.
My will is ever, never to offend
These that are good; and what I here intend;
Your worth compels me to. For lately grieved
More than can be expressed or well believed
Minding for ever to abandon sport,
And live exiled from places of resort;
Careless of all, I yielding to security,
Thought to shut up my Muse in dark obscurity:
And in content the better to repose,
A lonely grove upon a mountain chose,
East from Caer Winn, midway 'twixt Arle and Dis,
Two springs where Britain's true Arcadia is.

159

But ere I entered my intended course,
Great Æolus began to offer force.
The boisterous king was grown so mad with rage,

He here remembers and describes the late winter, which was so exceeding tempestuous and windy.

That all the earth was but his fury's stage;
Fire, air, earth, sea, were intermixed in one;
Yet fire, through water, earth and air shone.
The sea, as if she meant to whelm them under,
Beat on the cliffs, and raged more loud than thunder:

The reason of the tempestuos winter.

And whilst the vales she with salt waves did fill,
The air shower'd floods that drench'd our highest hill;
And the proud trees, that would no duty know,
Lay overturned, twenties in a row.
Yea, every man for fear fell to devotion,
Lest the whole isle should have been drench'd in th' ocean.
Which I, perceiving, conjured up my Muse,
The spirit whose good help I sometimes use,
And though I meant to break her rest no more,
I was then fain her aid for to implore;
And by her help indeed I came to know
Why both the air and seas were troubled so;
For having urged her that she would unfold
What cause she knew, thus much at last she told.

160

Of late, quoth she, there is by powers divine
A match concluded, 'twixt great Thame and Rhine;
Two famous rivers, equal both to Nile:
The one, the pride of Europe's greatest isle;
Th' other, disdaining to be closely pent,
Washes a great part of the Continent,
Yet with abundance doth the wants supply
Of the still-thirsting sea, that's never dry.
And now these, being not alone endear'd
To mighty Neptune and his watery herd,
But also to the great and dreadful Jove
With all his sacred companies above,
Both have assented by their loves' inviting,
To grace with their own presence this uniting.
Jove called a summons, to the world's great wonder,
'Twas that we heard of late, which we thought thunder.
A thousand legions he intends to send them,
Of cherubins and angels to attend them:
And those strong winds that did such blustering keep
Were but the Tritons sounding in the deep,
To warn each river, petty stream, and spring
Their aid unto their sovereign to bring.
The floods and showers that came so plenteous down,
And lay entrench'd in every field and town,
Were but retainers to the nobler sort
That owe their homage at the watery court:

161

Or else the streams, not pleased with their own store,
To grace the Thames, their mistress, borrowed more,
Exacting from their neighbouring dales and hills,
But by consent all, nought against their wills.
Yet now, since in this stir are brought to ground
Many fair buildings, many hundreds drown'd,
And daily found of broken ships great store,
That lie dismembered upon every shore,
With divers other mischiefs known to all,
This is the cause that those great harms befall.
Whilst other things in readiness did make,
Hell's hateful hags from out their prisons brake,

The cause of all such dangers as fell out during the distemperature of the air.

And spiting at this hopeful match, began
To wreak their wrath on air, earth, sea, and man.
Some, having shapes of Romish shavelings got,
Spew'd out their venom, and began to plot
Which way to thwart it; others made their way
With much distraction thorough land and sea
Extremely raging. But almighty Jove
Perceives their hate and envy from above;
He'll check their fury, and in irons chain'd
Their liberty abus'd shall be restrain'd:

162

He'll shut them up from coming to molest
The merriments of Hymen's holy feast,
Where shall be knit that sacred Gordian knot
Which in no age to come shall be forgot;
Which policy nor force shall ne'er untie,
But must continue to eternity;
Which for the whole world's good was fore-decreed,
With hope expected long, now come indeed;
And of whose future glory, worth, and merit,
Much I could speak with a prophetic spirit.

Thus by my Muse's dear assistance finding
The cause of this disturbance, with more minding
My country's welfare than my own content,
And longing to behold this tale's event,
My lonely life I suddenly forsook,
And to the court again my journey took.

Meanwhile I saw the furious winds were laid;

He noteth the most admirable alteration of the weather a while before these nuptials.

The risings of the swelling waters stay'd.
The winter 'gan to change in everything,
And seem'd to borrow mildness of the spring.
The violet and primrose fresh did grow,
And as in April trimm'd both copse and row.
The city, that I left in mourning clad,
Drooping, as if it would have still been sad,

163

I found deck'd up in robes so neat and trim,
Fair Iris would have look'd but stale and dim
In her best colours, had she there appear'd.
The sorrows of the court I found well clear'd,
Their woeful habits quite cast off, and tired
In such a glorious fashion, I admired.

The glorious preparation of this solemnity, the state whereof is here allegorically described.

All her chief peers and choicest beauties too,
In greater pomp than mortals use to do,
Wait as attendants. Juno's come to see,
Because she hears that this solemnity
Exceeds fair Hippodamia's, where the strife
'Twixt her, Minerva, and lame Vulcan's wife
Did first arise, and with her leads along
A noble, stately, and a mighty throng.
Venus, attended with her rarest features,
Sweet lovely-smiling and heart-moving creatures,
The very fairest jewels of her treasure,
Able to move the senseless stones to pleasure,
Of all her sweetest saints hath robbed their shrines,
And brings them for the courtiers' valentines.
Nor doth dame Pallas from these triumphs lurk;
Her noblest wits she freely sets on work.
Of late she summoned them unto this place
To do your masques and revels better grace.

164

Here Mars himself, too, clad in armour bright,

Meaning the sea-fight, and the taking of the castle on the water, which was most artificially performed.

Hath shown his fury in a bloodless fight;
And both on land and water, sternly drest,
Acted his bloody stratagems in jest:
Which, to the people frighted by their error,
With seeming wounds and death did add more terror;
Besides, to give the greater cause of wonder,
Jove did vouchsafe a rattling peal of thunder:
Comets and meteors by the stars exhaled

The fireworks he alludeth to those exhalations.

Were from the middle region lately called,
And to a place appointed made repair,
To show their fiery friscols in the air,
People innumerable do resort,
As if all Europe here would keep one court:
Yea, Hymen in his saffron-coloured weed
To celebrate his rites is full agreed.
All this I see: which seeing, makes me borrow
Some of their mirth awhile, and lay down sorrow.
And yet not this, but rather the delight
My heart doth take in the much-hoped sight
Of these thy glories, long already due;
And this sweet comfort, that my eyes do view
Thy happy bridegroom, Prince Count Palatine,
Now thy best friend and truest valentine;
Upon whose brow my mind doth read the story
Of mighty fame, and a true future glory.
Methinks I do foresee already how
Princes and monarchs at his stirrup bow:

165

I see him shine in steel, the bloody fields
Already won, and how his proud foe yields.
God hath ordain'd him happiness great store,
And yet in nothing is he happy more
Than in thy love, fair Princess; for, unless
Heaven, like to man, be prone to fickleness,
Thy fortunes must be greater in effect
Than time makes show of, or men can expect.
Yet, notwithstanding all those goods of fate,
Thy mind shall ever be above thy state:
For, over and beside thy proper merit,
Our last Eliza grants her noble spirit
To be redoubled on thee; and your names
Being both one shall give you both one fames.
Oh, blessed thou and they to whom thou giv'st
The leave to be attendants where thou liv'st:
And hapless we that must of force let go
The matchless treasure we esteem of so.
But yet we trust 'tis for our good and thine,
Or else thou shouldst not change thy Thame for Rhine.
We hope that this will the uniting prove
Of countries and of nations by your love,
And that from out your blessed loins shall come
Another terror to the whore of Rome,

166

And such a stout Achilles as shall make
Her tottering walls and weak foundation shake;
For Thetis-like thy fortunes do require
Thy issue should be greater than his sire.
But, gracious Princess, now since thus it fares,
And God so well for you and us prepares;
Since He hath deign'd such honours for to do you,
And shown Himself so favourable to you;
Since He hath changed your sorrows and your sadness
Into such great and unexpected gladness;
Oh, now remember you to be at leisure
Sometime to think on Him amidst your pleasure:
Let not these glories of the world deceive you,
Nor her vain favours of yourself bereave you.
Consider yet for all this jollity
Y' are mortal, and must feel mortality;
And that God can in midst of all your joys
Quite dash this pomp, and fill you with annoys.
Triumphs are fit for princes, yet we find
They ought not wholly to take up the mind,
Nor yet to be let past as things in vain;
For out of all things wit will knowledge gain,
Music may teach of difference in degree,
The best-tuned Common-weals will framed be:

167

And that he moves and lives with greatest grace
That unto time and measure ties his pace.
Then let these things be emblems to present

He declares what use is to be made of these shows and triumphs, and what meditations the mind may be occupied about when we behold them.

Your mind with a more lasting true content.
When you behold the infinite resort,
The glory and the splendour of the court,
What wondrous favours God doth here bequeath you,
How many hundred thousands are beneath you,
And view with admiration your great bliss,
Then with yourself you may imagine this:
'Tis but a blast or transitory shade,
Which in the turning of a hand may fade:
Honours, which you yourself did never win,
And might, had God been pleased, another's bin:
And think, if shadows have such majesty,
What are the glories of eternity!

Then by this image of a fight on sea,
Wherein you heard the thund'ring cannons play,
And saw flames breaking from their murthering throats,
Which in true skirmish fling resistless shots,
Your wisdom may, and will, no doubt, begin
To cast what peril a poor soldier's in:
You will conceive his miseries and cares,
How many dangers, deaths, and wounds he shares:

168

Then, though the most pass 't over and neglect them,
That rhetoric will move you to respect them.
And if hereafter you should hap to see
Such mimic apes that courts' disgraces be—
I mean such chamber-combatants, who never
Wear other helmet than a hat of beaver,
Or ne'er board pinnace but in silken sail,
And in the stead of boisterous shirts of mail
Go arm'd in cambric—if that such a kite,
I say, should scorn an eagle in your sight,
Your wisdom judge, by this experience, can,
Which hath most worth, hermaphrodite or man.
The night's strange prospects, made to feed the eyes
With artful fires mounted in the skies,

Fireworks.

Graced with horrid claps of sulphury thunders,
May make you mind th' Almighty's greater wonders.
Nor is there anything but you may thence
Reap inward gain, as well as please the sense.
But pardon me, oh fairest, that am bold
My heart thus freely, plainly to unfold.
What though I know you knew all this before,
My love this shows, and that is something more.

169

Do not my honest service here disdain,
I am a faithful though an humble swain.
I'm none of those that have the means or place
With shows of cost to do your nuptials grace;
But, only master of mine own desire,
Am hither come with others to admire.
I am not of those Heliconian wits,
Whose pleasing strains the court's known humour fits,
But a poor rural shepherd, that for need
Can make sheep music on an oaten reed:
Yet for my love, I'll this be bold to boast,
It is as much to you as his that's most.
Which, since I no way else can now explain,
If you'll in midst of all these glories deign
To lend your ears unto my Muse so long,
She shall declare it in a wedding song.