Du Bartas His Divine Weekes And Workes with A Compleate Collectio[n] of all the other most delight-full Workes: Translated and written by yt famous Philomusus: Iosvah Sylvester |
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VRANIA. OR The Heauenly Muse. |
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 | Du Bartas |  |
525
VRANIA. OR The Heauenly Muse.
1
Scarce had the April of mine age begun,When brave desire t'immortalize my Name,
Did make me (oft) Rest and repast to shun,
In curious proiect of som learned Frame.
2
But, as a Pilgrim, that full late doth lightVpon a crosse-way stops in sodain doubt;
And, 'mid the sundry Lanes to finde the right,
More with his Wit than with his feet doth scout:
3
Among the many flowrie paths that leadVp to the Mount, where (with green Bayes) Apollo
Crowns happy Numbers with immortall meed,
I stood confus'd, and doubtfull which to follow.
4
One while I fought, the Greekish-Scæne to dressIn French Disguise: in loftier Stile anon
T'imbrew our Stage, with Tyrants bloody Gests,
Of Thebes, Mycæna, and proud Ilion.
5
Anon, I sacred to th'Aonian BandMy Countries Story; and, condemning much
The common error, rather tooke in hand
To make the Mein French, than the Sein be Dutch.
6
Anon, I meant with fawning pen to praiseVn-worthy Prince; and so, with gold and glory,
T'inrich my Fortunes, and my Fate to raise,
Basely to make my Muse a Mercenarie.
7
Then (gladly) thought I, the Wagg-Son to singOf wanton Venus; and the bitter-sweet,
That Too much Loue to the best wits doth bring;
Theam, for my nature and mine age, too-meet.
8
While to and fro thus (tossed by Ambition)Yet vn-resolued of my Course, I rove;
Lo, suddainly a sacred Apparition;
Som Daughter (think I) of supernall Ioue.
526
9
Angelicall her gesture and her gait;Divinely-sweet her speech and countenance;
Her Nine-fold Voice did choicely imitate
Th'Harmonious Musik of Heauens nimble Dance.
10
Vpon her Head, a glorious Diadem,Seaven-double-folded, moving diuersly;
And on each fold sparkled a pretious Gem,
Obliquely turning o're our heads on high:
11
The first of Lead, the second Tin (me thought)Third Steel, the fourth of yellow Gold was cast,
The fift of pale Electrum seemed wrought;
Sixt Mercury; of Siluer was the last.
12
An azure Mantle on her back she wore,With art-less Art, in orderly disorder;
Flourisht, and fill'd with thousand Lamps and more,
Her sacred Beautie to set-forth and further.
13
Heer flames the Harp, there shine the tender Twins,Heer Charles his Wayn there twinkling Pleiades.
Heer the bright Balance there the siluer Finns,
And thousand Starrs more then I can express.
14
I am Vrania (then a-loud said she)Who humane-kinde aboue the Poles transport,
Teaching their hands to touch, and eyes to see
All th'enter-course of the Celestiall Court.
15
I quint-essence the Soule, and make the Poet(Passing himselfe) in a Divine Discourse
To draw the deafest, by the ears vnto-it,
To quicken stones, and stop the Oceans course.
16
I grant, My learned Sisters warble fine,And ravish millions with their Madrigalls:
Yet all, no less inferiour vnto mine,
Than Pies to Syrens, Geese to Nightingalls.
17
Then take Me (Bartas) to conduct thy Pen,Soar-vp to Heav'n; Sing-me th'Almightie's prayse:
And tuning now the lessean Harp again,
Gayn thee the Garland of eternall Bayes.
18
I cannot (grief-less) see my Sisters wrongsMade Bawds to Louers, in deceitfull faynings,
In forged sighes, false tears, and filthy Songs,
Lascivious shewes and counterfait complaynings.
527
19
Alas! I cannot with dry eyes beholdOur holy Songs sould and profaned thus
To grace the grace-less; praising (too-too bold).
Caligula, Nero, and Commodus.
20
But, most I mourn, to see rare Verse apply'dAgainst the Author of sweet Composition:
I cannot brook to see Heav'ns King defy'd
By his own Souldiers, with his own Munition.
21
Man's eyes are field-vp with Cimmerian mist:And, if ought pretious in his Life he reach,
Through sundry hands, by the Heav'ns bounty is't:
But God, himselfe, the Delphian Songs doth teach.
22
Each Art is learn'd by Art: but PoesieIs a meer Heauenly gift; and none can taste
The Deaws we drop from Pindus plentiously,
If sacred Fire have not his brest imbraç't.
23
Thence is't, that many great Philosophers,Deep-learned Clarks (in Prose most eloquent)
Labour in vain to make a grace-full Verse,
Which many a Novice frames most excellent.
24
Thence is't, that yerst, the poore Meonian Bard,Though Master, means, and his owne eyes he misses,
Of Olde and New is for his Verse preferd,
In's stout Achilles, and his wise Vlysses.
25
Thence is't, that Ovid cannot speak in Prose:Thence is't, that Dauid (Sheapherd, turned Poet)
So soon dooth learn my Songs: and Youths compose
After our Art, before (indeed) they knowe-it.
26
Dive day and night in the Castalian Fount,Dwell vpon Homer and the Mantuan Muse,
Climb night and day the double-topped Mount,
Where the Pierian learned Maidens vse:
27
Read while thou wilt, read ouer every BookIn Pergamus, and in the famous Citie
That her great name, of Alexander took;
Still ply thy Pen, practice thy language (wittie)
28
Take time inough, choose seat and season fit,To make good Verse; at best aduantage place thee:
Yet worthy fruit thou shalt not reap of it,
For all thy toil, vnless Minerua grace thee.
528
29
For, out of Man, Man must him all advance,That time-proof Poems ever hopes to vtter;
And, extased (as in a holy Transe)
Into our hands his Sensiue part must put-her.
30
For, as a humane Fury makes a manLess than a man: so Diuine-Fury makes-him
More then himself; and sacred Phrenzie then
Above the heav'ns bright-flaming Arches takes-him.
31
Thence, thence it is that divine Poets bringSo sweet, so learned, and so lasting Numbers,
Where Heav'ns and Nature's secret works they sing,
Free from the power of Fates eternall slumbers.
32
True Poets, right are like winde-Instruments,Which full, do sound; emptie, their noise surceases.
For, with their Fury lasts their Excellence;
Their Muse is silent, when their Fury ceases.
33
Sith therefore Verses haue from Heav'n their spring,O rarest spirits! how dare you (damned scorners)
Profanely wrest, against Heavn's glorious King,
These sacred gifts given from your lives adorners?
34
Shall your ingratefull Penns be alwayes waiting,As Seruants to the Flesh, and slaues to Sin?
Wil you your Volumes evermore be fraighting
With Dreams and Fables, idle Fame to win?
35
Still will you fill the World with Loue-sick groans?Still will you fawn on Fools, and flatter Euill?
Still will you parbreak loathsom passions?
Still will you make an Angell of a Diuell?
36
Still will you comment on this common Storie?And (Spider-like) weaue idle Webs of folly?
O! shall we neuer hear you sing the glory
Of God, the great, the good, the iust, the holy?
37
Is 't not enough, that in Your soules, yee feelYout Paphian Fire? but every Brothel-Lover,
T'inchaunt the wanton with his wanton stile,
Must (Strumpet-like) his lustfull flame discover?
38
Is 't not enough, that you your selues do wallowIn foul delights? but that you must intice
Your heed-less Readers, your loose Race to follow;
And so, for Vertue, make them fall to Vice?
529
39
Tunes, Notes and Numbers (whence wee doo transferTh'harmonious powr that makes our Verse so pleasing).
The sternest Catoes are of force to stir,
Mans noblest spirits with gentle Fury seazing.
40
And, as a Seal printeth in wax (almost)Another Seal; A learned Poet graveth
So deep his passions in his Readers ghost,
That oft the Reader th'Authors form receiveth.
41
For, Verse's vertue, sliding secretly(By secret pipes) through th'intellectuall Notions;
Of all that's pourtraid artificially
Imprinteth there both good and evill motions.
42
Therefore did Plato from his None-Such banishBase Poëtasters, that with vitious verse
Corrupted manners, making vertue vanish;
The wicked, worse; and even the good, perverse.
43
Not those that car'd to match their gracefull PhrazesTo grave-sweet matters: singing now the praise
Of iustest Iove; anon from errors mazes
Keeping th'vn-steady, calling back the straies.
44
O profane Writers! your lascivious RymeMakes our best Poets to bee basely deemed
As Iugglers, Iesters, and the scum of Time;
Yea, with the Vulgar less than these esteemed.
45
You make chaste Clio, a light wanton Minion;Mount Helicon, a Stews; your ribaldry
Makes prudent Parents (strict in their opinion)
To bar their Children reading Poëtry:
46
But, if you would (yet at the last) inure-yeeYour Gnidian Idols in the dust to trample,
And rouz the Genius of your sacred Fury,
To shew the World som holy Works example;
47
All would admire your Rymes, and doo you honour,As Secretaries of the Heav'nly Court;
And Maiesty would make you wait vpon-her,
To manage Causes of the most import.
48
The chain of Verse was at the first inventedTo handle-onely sacred Mysteries
With more respect: and nothing else was chanted
For long time after in such Poësies.
530
49
So did my David on the trembling stringsOf his divine Harp onely sound his God:
So milde-soul'd Moses to Iehova sings
Iacob's deliverance from th'Egyptians Rod.
50
So Debora and Iudith, in the Camp;So Iob and Ieremy, in cares oppressed;
In tune-full Verses of a various stamp,
Their ioyes and sighes divinely-sweet expressed.
51
And therefore Satan (who transforms him slilyT'an Angell of the Light, the more t'abuse)
In's Oracles and Idols speaking wily,
Not common Prose, but curious Verse did vse.
52
So the fond made-Priests of Apollo sungHis Oracles in sweet Hexameters,
With doubtfull Riddles from a double tongue,
To hapless-hopefull, conquered Conquerers:
53
So th'ancient voice in Dodon worshipped:So Æsculapius, Hamon, and the fair
And famous Sibyls spake and prophecied
In Verse: in Verse the Priest did make his praier.
54
So Orpheus, Linus and Hesiodus(Whereof the first charm'd stocks and stones, they say)
In sacred Numbers dar'd (to profit vs)
Their divine secrets of deep skill convay.
55
O! you that long so for the Laurell Crown,Where's possible a richer Theam to take
Than his high praise, who makes the Heav'ns go round,
The Mountains tremble, and dark Hell to quake?
56
This subiect is a deep, broad, bound-less Ocean,Th'aboundant Horn of Plentifull discourse;
The Magazin of wealth for Wits quick motion;
Of divine Eloquence th'immortall source.
57
Base Argument, a base stile ever yeelds:But (of it selfe) a lofty subiect raises
Grave stately words, and (of it selfe) it gilds
It self; and crowns the Author's Pen with praises.
58
If then you would survive your selves so gladly,Follow not him who burnt (to purchase fame)
DIANA's Temple: neither him that madly,
To get renown, a Brazen Bull did frame.
531
59
Imploy no more th'Elixir of your spiritOn Cytherea and her winged Son.
How better never to bee named were-it,
Then named (blamed) for a mischief don?
60
Wee, Thrice three Sisters of Parnassus Hill,Bee Virgins all: your Pallas self is so:
So is that sacred Tree-turn'd Lady still,
From whose pure Locks your stil-green Laurels growe.
61
Then, consecrate-mee (rather) your Wits miracles,To sacred Stories: spend your Eloquence
In singing loud those holy Heav'nly Oracles,
Pour there your Soules pure pretious quinte-ssence.
62
Let Christ (as Man-God) bee your double MountWhereon to Muse; and, for the winged hoove
Of Pegasus, to dig th'immortall Fount,
Take th'Holy-Ghost, typ't in a Silver-Dove.
63
Excelling Works preserve the MemoryOf those that make them: The Mausolean Toomb
Makes Artemisia, Scopas, Timothy,
Live to this day, and still in time to com.
64
Name-less had Hiram been, but for his aidTowards God's Temple, built in Israel:
And, but for God's Ark, in dark silence laid
Long since had been th'Hebrew Bezaleel.
65
Then, sith these great and goodly MonumentsCan make their makers after death abide;
Although themselves have Vanished long since,
By Age, and Rage, Fire, Arms and Storms destroy'd:
66
O think (I pray) how-much-much greater gloryShall you attain, when your Diviner quality
In sacred strains shall sing th'Almightie's Story;
Sith from immortall things springs Immortality.
67
I knowe, you'll answer, that the Antient FictionsAre (even) your Song's soule: and that every Fable
Ay breeding other, makes by their commixtions
(To vulgar ears) your Verse more admirable.
68
But, what may bee more admirable foundThen Faith's Effects? Or what doth more controul
Wit's curious pride? or with more force confound
The reach and reason of a humane soule?
532
69
I'ld rather sing the Towr of Babylon,Than those three Mountains, that in frantik mood
The Giants pil'd to pull Iove from his Throne:
And Noah's, rather than Deucalion's Flood.
70
I'ld rather sing the sudden shape-deprivingOf Assur's Monarch, than th'Arcadian King:
And the Bethanian Lazarus reviving,
Than valiant Theseus Sons re-sodering.
71
Th'one onely doth delight their ears that hear it;The other tends to profit in som measure:
But, onely Hee the Laurel Crown doth merit,
Who wisely mingles Profit with his Pleasure.
72
As sweetest walks are by the waters side,And safest swimming neer the flowry shoar:
So, prudent Writers never doo divide
Knowledge from Mirth, Mirth from Instructions lore.
73
Such shall you bee, if such a task you take:For teaching others, you your selves shall learn-all
Rules of good life; and happy so shall make,
As is your subiect, your owne Songs eternall.
74
Abandon then those Ould-wives-Tales and Toyes;Leave the Blinde Lad, who but the blinde abuses;
And onely, addle, idle hearts annoyes.
Hence-forth no more profane the Sacred Muses.
75
But (O!) in vain, in vain (alas!) I plain-mee;Som subtile Aspicks, to eschew my Charming,
Stop their dull ears; som Epicures disdain-mee
And my advice, and scoff my zealous warning.
76
Som, for a season, listen to my Laws;But soon Relapse, through the Worlds sorceries:
And this discourse (which but the Vertuous draws)
Enters at one ear, out at th'other flies.
77
Alas! I scarce see one (nay, none at all)That courts not Venus, or corrupts not more
His golden Hony with profaner Gall:
Although this Age of happy Wits have store.
78
But thou, my Darling, whom before thy birth,The Sacred Nine, that sip th'immortall spring
Of Pegasus, predestin'd to set forth
Th'Almightie's glory, and his praise to sing:
533
79
Although their Subiect seem a barren soyl,Which finest Wits have left for fallow fields;
Yet, doo thou never from this task recoyl:
For, what is rarest, greatest glory yeelds.
80
Faint not (my-Salust) though fell Enuie barkAt the bright Rising of thy fair Renown;
Fear not her malice; for, thy living Work
(In spight of spight) shall not be troden down.
81
That Fames-foe Monster, is much like a Curr,That fiercely barks at every new-com Guest;
But, once-acquainted, after doth not stur,
Saving at strangers; fawning on the rest.
82
Or like a thick, dark, pitchie Clowd of smoak,That round-about a kindling Fire suppresses
With waving smother, the new Flame to choak:
But, as the Flame augments, the Fume decreases.
83
Wherefore (my deer) that sacred Path pursue,Where none but Heav'n-blest happy spirits can pase:
And heer I swear, that shortly for thy due,
Among best Wits thou shalt have worthy place.
84
With these sweet accents (graç't in vtterance)Vrania holding in her Maiden-hand
A glorious Crown, rapt-vp in sacred Transe)
My prostrate soule, prest to her high Command.
85
Since when, alone that Loue my heart hath fired;Since when, alone that Winde my sails hath spread:
O happy! might I touch that Crown (desired)
But with my hand, not put it on my head.
86
Now out of zeal to your deer Name and You(Deer noble Name, thac I must aye affect:
And whose Disasters I must euer rue)
This Monvment of Honour I erect
To you (sweet Essex) as your Vertues due,
For an eternall token of Respect:
Where, your great worth, and my good-will shall stand
Inrowld for ever with Vrania's hand.
FINIS.
| Du Bartas | |