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Anacreon

Bion. Moschvs. Kisses, by Secundus. Cvpid crvcified, by Ausonius. Venvs vigils, Incerto Authore [by Thomas Stanley]

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SYLVIA'S PARK, by Theophile. ACANTHUS COMPLAINT, by Tristan. ORONTA, by Preti. ECHO, by Marino. LOVES EMBASSY, by Boscan. THE SOLITVDE. by Gongora.
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165

SYLVIA'S PARK, by Theophile. ACANTHUS COMPLAINT, by Tristan. ORONTA, by Preti. ECHO, by Marino. LOVES EMBASSY, by Boscan. THE SOLITVDE. by Gongora.


167

SYLVIA'S PARK.

Apollo (Poets say) his Beam
On all that court his Name bestows;
And knowledg in his vales smooth stream,
Into their quickned Spirits flows;
But our chaste Muse is unbeguil'd,
Phœbus eternally exil'd
From her sublimer Poesy;
Those Temples now are overthrown,
And all the Dæmons they did own
In their dumb ruines buried ly.
Those dark Impostors shall no more
Intrap us in their dangerous snares;
A Power Celestial We implore,
Enthron'd above the highest Starres:
From this Divinity alone
(The Bound of all Devotion)
Have I receiv'd a hallowed flame,
Which learns my humble Soul to rise,
And bids her aim at such a Prize,
As may inherit deathlesse Fame.

168

Then we an Image so divine
Of his bright Glories will reherse,
That Heav'n it self shall gladly joyn,
To justifie our sacred Verse.
For next the Altar, at whose fire
Falls prostrate the Seraphick Quire,
And Eccho their harmonious Layes,
We with a thought as innocent,
To a chaste Beauty may present
The fragrant Incense of our Praise.
Thus Sylvia from the just presage
Of my unspotted vows, shall claim
That lasting sound, which every Age
To come, a second Life will name,
But if cross Fate my verse cast down,
Ecclipsing by some Potent frown
The sacred Reliques of her Glory,
These Waters, every Rock, and Grove,
Assuming Soul, and Speech, will prove
Faithful Recorders of her Story.
If Trees that were of old renown'd
By impious Adoration, took
New spirit, and articulate sound,
From weak Diana's sickly look;
If Rivers, as along they glide,
Spoke in the Murmurs of their Tide,
What Fauns, or Fairies did inspire;
If Stubborn Rocks and senseless Stones,
Could melt with Pitty, and in Grones
Keep Time with Orpheus charming Lyre.

169

What stranger hardness must possess
The object by my Princess grac'd,
If quickned by that happiness,
To voice its Joyes it do not haste?
Through this proud structures daz'ling Hight,
Through this sweet Walks secure delight,
What Marble can so solid be,
But is transparent to her Eye?
What Trees and Fountains stealing by,
But own her for a Deity?
Those Oaks that most obdurate are,
Shall willingly their arms unwind;
And by themselves ungraven wear
My verse upon their Leaves, and Rind:
And every Tree, whose Top prefers
To Heaven these sacred Characters,
No storms shall offer to invade.
For whilst thus charm'd, the rough Winds may
Hope with more ease, to snatch away
Their fastned Roots, or fleeting shade.
These floating Mirrours, on whose Brow
Their various figures gently glide,
For love of her shall gently grow,
In faithful Icy fetters ty'd.
This cheerful Brooks unwrinkled face,
Shall smile within its Christal case,
To see it self made permanent,
And from Times rage secur'd, the deep
Impression of my Cyphers keep,
And my fair Princess form present.

170

But her unequal Praise requires
More Pens then ours to set her forth:
Behold how Heaven it self conspires
O're all the World to paint her forth!
In the bright Sun her eyes are drawn;
In the fresh Beauties of the Dawn,
Those of her blushing cheek appear:
No Power her Vertues can deface,
Until the Heavens forsake their place,
And darkned Stars drop from their sphear.
One evening, when the Azure Main
Its softer Litter did prepare
For the bright Steeds which draw the Wain
Of weary Day's declining Star,
By chance the Bed I did survey
Whereon a sleeping Naïad lay,
And Sylvia angling in the Brook:
There I beheld the Fishes strife,
Which first should sacrifice its life,
To be the Trophey of her Hook.
Whilst with one hand the Line she cast,
Commanding Silence with the other,
Her signe the Day obeying, past
More slily by her dusky Brother.
The doubtful Sun with equal awe,
Fear'd to approach or to withdraw:
The intentive Stars suspend their glowing.
No Rage the quiet Billows swell'd,
Favonius his soft breath withheld,
The listning Grass refrain'd from growing.

171

Her sparkling Eyes, a subtle fire
Through the undreaded streams transmit:
Whose radiant flame the waves admire,
Not daring to extinguish it.
These warring Elements (their wild
Dissention gladly reconcil'd)
Submit to her imperious Eye:
Her anger fearing to excite,
Lay down their own, forgetting quite
Their old inherent Enmity.
Soon as the Tritons her bright face
Did through their fluid windows view,
The flaming object did displace
Their humid forms, to give them new,
Whilst, with amazement extaside,
About them creeps a Stags rough hide,
And their devested figure vails:
Now wondring whence their young horns sprout,
Or how their rugged coat buds out,
Through the smooth hardness of their scales.
Griev'd at this Fate unkindly strange,
Which fixing branches on their brows,
These Deities to Beasts doth change,
And down their bashful foreheads bows;
The treacherous water they forsake,
And to the Land themselves betake,
Where trees their gloomy lodging shade,
There walk with discontented look,
Their shadow onely to that Brook
Now trusting, which themselves betray'd.

172

The Suns bright sister, Poets say,
Nature with newer power enclosed;
And in this figure did array
Acteon, his old shape depos'd.
The same inglorious punishment
Which to a Man, a Goddess sent,
For his profanely curious sight,
The Gods themselves have suffer'd here;
Who with bold eyes ventur'd too near
Our chaste Dianas greater light.
These dear pursued by fear, and shame,
Which from the walks and alleys drive them,
Their own deceitful fortunes blame,
That of their wonted cold deprive them.
Their hearts are now of moisture drain'd,
Nor but with timerousness restrain'd,
Look they to Heaven, or on Earth tread:
For oft as Sylvia passeth by,
She lightning darts from her black eye,
Threatning the war which still they dread.
Yet happy, and o'rejoyd are they,
To breath the air which she respires;
Living subjected to her sway,
Fate now exceeds their proud desires,
The Princess, when she did devest
Their ancient forms, of new possest,
A snowy whiteness made them bear:
Kindly bestowing on their grief,
The priviledge of this relief,
They alwayes should her livery wear.

173

Here a close Valley Trees protect,
With twisted branches overlai'd:
To which the Sun bears much respect,
He never violates their shade.
To wait on whom, on either side,
Two purling Rivers gently glide.
A lazy Lake sleeps at his feet,
Rous'd from his sluggish dreams by these
Self-chasing sister-Naïades,
Who kindly in his Bosom meet.
A thousand little Cupids here,
Aside their Bows and Quivers laid,
When Night is by their eyes made cleer,
Into the glittering Water wade.
Hither the Nerëids resort,
To bath their purer Limbs, to sport,
And with the Loves raise harmless wars,
Diana from her silver Wain
Descending, leave her drowsie Swain,
To swim amongst these naked Stars.
Ith midst is plac'd a little Isle,
Crownd by an Arbours shady Crest,
Where Spring eternal seems to smile,
With flowers by careful Nature drest.
Hither each morn, and night, repair
The featherd Choristers oth'air,
To give their various passions vent:
The Nightingale above the rest,
Her joyes in this soft language drest,
Doth to fair Sylvias ear present.

174

I, who so oft the Eastern Bowers
Visit, my sacred Hymns to sing;
And view the spicy sweets, the Flowers,
With all the rich Embellishing
Of Gold, Pearls, Rubies, which the Morn
Takes her fair Tresses to adorn;
And that bright flame with which she dies
(Stoln from the Sun) her pale Cheeks,
When she to seem most lovely seeks
In her deer Cephalus his Eyes.
Daily the Woods fair Queen I see
With nimble feet the Thickets trace,
Who, list'ning to my Harmony,
Stands often still, and leaves the Chace.
But I the Heavens, and Gods attest,
By whom with Life and Musick blest;
Thy Eyes, in their least glance, disclose
More Beauties, a diviner fire,
And in my Song more Life inspire,
Then all the Grace that either owes.
Enough, enough, sweet Philomel!
We now this happy Park must leave;
In every part such Beauties dwell,
As our too bold attempt deceive.
Each drop that from these Fountains flows,
Each Flower that in these Gardens grows,
The fruit on every Tree or Wall,
Are the just subject of all praise:
What then must be the glorious raies,
Of Sylvias Eyes, that guild them all.

175

Acanthus Complaint.

VVhen cheerful Spring smil'd on the Flowers,
Acanthus, hapless youth, essay'd
By tears, to bend th'ungentle powers:
Still waters which his flame betray'd.
So void of sence, as if the stone
In which he lay, and he, were one.
When by those briny streams, his eyes
Had given his heart a little vent,
He then his sickly voice unties,
His deep misfortunes to lament:
And thinking none else heard his plaints,
To Heav'n and Earth his grief thus paints.
Sun, wheresoe're thou dost dispence
To wondring Mortals, life, and light;
Hast thou found any influence,
But Sylvia's, then thy own more bright.
In all thy course didst thou e're see
One fair like Her, one crost like Me:
Ere since I serv'd her first, Heav'n knows!
I duly offer'd sighs and tears:

176

But she, alas! contemns my woes,
The bondage of so many years:
Nor will (unkinde!) vouchsafe to turn
Her eyes though but to see my urn.
Ah cruel, whose relentless minde
vainly my piteous cries invade;
By service proud, by Love unkinde,
And by my sorrows scornful made;
Not that thou pity, onely view
Him, whom thou doom'st to death, I sue.
The stock I own, not makes me less
Clouded with meanness, or disgrace;
For, without boast, I may profess
The glory of a spotless race:
My Father in his tender age,
Withstood the Bear, and Lions rage.
A cloud of ravenous beasts once fell
Upon our fold, to lay it wast;
When he the tempest did dispel
With his victorious arm, at last
Fighting to set Pans altars free,
By death gain'd Immortality.
And in his forward steps I tread;
Where Honour me his Image cals:
No face of danger do I dread,
Death in no shape my soul appals:
I never yet met Enemy,
But I could master, except Thee.

177

The other day, in yonder den
Which with my woes doth oft resound,
Seeking a Lamb strai'd from our Pen,
A litter of Tigers I found,
The Dam that chac'd me did I slay,
And the young Orphans brought away.
One that's left, for Thee I keep:
Whose courage sparkles in his eye:
And though scarce old enough to creep,
From none will suffer injury;
Yet will to me his Master bow:
Nor half so savage is as Thou.
Yet courage heightned by success
Thou mightst account an empty boast,
If the deep skill which I profess,
Had with my liberty been lost.
The power of simples I reveal,
And all pains but my own, can heal.
Thousands of Lovers can I show
That change Loves laws for those of Flora,
Which in my painted Garden grow,
Washt with the tears of fair Aurora;
Oh might I live in that disguise,
So I were water'd by thy eyes!
There yellow Clitia shalt thou finde
Retaining still her jealous look;
And that stout Greek, whose warlike mind
An unjust sentence could not brook:
Adonis, Narcissus full blown,
That Venus Martyr, this his own.

178

And as the vertues that they hide,
Their stories too I can disclose;
How Juno's Milk the Lilly died,
And Cytherea's Blood the Rose;
Whose full buds swell with humble pride,
To be by thy fair Cheek outvi'd.
Thousands of trees thou shalt see there,
With grateful Earths ripe presents fraught,
And on the ruggid coats they wear,
Have I thy Name and Motto wrought:
The luscious Plum, the purple Berry,
Guilt Apricock, and juicy Cherry.
There Jesmine Groves will thee invite,
Though the Suns entrance they refuse:
In which sweet lab'rinth of delight,
Thou willingly thy self shalt lose,
As in thy hairs more od'rous maze,
My ravish'd soul entangled strayes.
But foolishly I glory in
My Trees, though they of fruit be full:
Or by my flocks esteem would win,
Though they abound in Milk and Wool.
How can I call these riches mine,
When ev'n my self, alass! am thine?
When the bright Regent of the day
Begins to guild the smiling East,

179

Or in his saffron night-array
Hastens in Thetis lap to rest;
My early griefs rise with the light,
Encreasing with the shades of Night.
For when the black Queen, crown'd with Stars,
The Suns retiring beams supplies,
Though slumber all the sharpest cares
Of others, in soft fetters ties;
Yet I perpetual vigils keep,
Shun'd equally by Death, and Sleep.
The onely comfort I'm allow'd
Is in thy Picture, taken late
By one of whom the Art is proud,
Judge then how hapless is my state,
Who for the wound the substance made
Must of the shadow seek for aid.
The other day, this sacred Charm;
With dew devotion I drew forth;
My soul 'gainst ill advice to arm,
And vindicate thy sacred worth:
Mirtillo's Mother, pitying me,
Inveigh'd against thy cruelty.
She told me that my humble smart
Had rais'd thy pride to this excess;
And that thy unrelenting heart
Would own more flame, if mine had lesse;
Coy Lovers, coyness best defeat,
Who win most ground when they retreat.

180

And if no Art could win thy love,
She counsel'd me to seek another:
Some lesse ungentle fair to prove,
And in a new, my old flame smother.
That other Beauties I might finde,
If not so fair, yet far more kinde.
Cloris, said I, it is too true,
A cruel passion I maintain:
And time its vigour doth renew,
Feeding my grief, and her disdain:
Yet so affect what I endure,
Death I would chuse, before the Cure.
So much I doat upon my chains,
And the dear prison I am in;
That my own hand the wall maintains,
Lest Reason should admittance win.
Nor could she with more pride confine,
Then I my freedom did resigne.
To my last breath I shun release,
More with her cruelty contented;
Nor shall my zealous faith decrease,
To see my martyrdom augmented.
The best of Joyes, we should not buy
But with the worst of misery.
Acanthus, breathing forth these woes,
Heard something rustle in the bush,
And hastily (surpriz'd) arose,
His bashful cheek stain'd with a blush:
For Daphnis unawares appear'd,
Who all his passion overheard.

181

ORONTA,

The Cyprian Virgin.

When glorious Cyprus (long in vain pursu'd)
Often victorious was at last subdu'd;
(Nor had the heat of fire and anger ceast,
Had they not been by streams of blood supprest)
When every one the Thracian rage did feel,
And those with I'rn were bound that scap'd the steel;
When Limbs and ruin'd Walls in heaps were laid,
And Loves soft kingdom Mars's field was made.
Victorious Mustapha is angry still,
Because no more are left to oppose his will,
The field he keeps, with squadrons yet o're-spread,
And threatens death once more against the dead.
His horrid foot-steps he imprints in blood,
Yet seeks for more t'increase the purple flood;
And seems adverse fortune vext, to see
So many that by death from death were free.

182

The Spoiler, all be-smear'd with dropping gore,
Ransacks the levell'd ruines (walls no more;)
Removes the stones and beams, climbs where they stood,
As greedy now of gold as late of blood:
The lowest he casts up, the high down throws,
Deaf to the Prayers, blind to th'wounds of foes;
Whilst the demolish'd walls become a grave,
Th'unburied carkasses a burial have.
There was a stately Temple, to which led
By fear, for refuge many Christians fled;
The foe arrives, and fight not but destroyes,
For these their throats, and he his sword employes;
Flames seising on the roof o're-throw the Walls,
The Fabrick once near Heaven, to Earth now falls,
The murderer doth not the slain survive,
And he that kill'd dyes buried alive.
Now none are left his anger to asswage,
The vanquish'd General feels the Victors rage,
His honour'd head he fixing on a Spear,
A barbarous trophy of his death doth rear:
Upon the headless body he doth tread,
Insulting with new fury on the dead.
Then round about he roves, and every where
Lightning in's eye, Thunder in's sword doth bear.

183

So when Megæra terrible to sight,
Her bloody whip now waves, then holds upright,
When Squadrons mixt in fight Squadrons ore-turn,
And every where the angry Steel doth burn:
She who her glory 'mongst the dead acquires,
Their arms with strength, their souls with rage inspires,
And as she doth her snaky tresses spread,
The fields with bones look white, with blood look red.
Each place resounds with the triumphant cry,
Mountains and Vallies eccho Victory;
The hollow Cannons with a sportive blaze
And horrid sound, thunder and lightning raise;
The Horses neighing, and the Men with cries,
Seem rather greedy of the War then prize,
And the shrill trumpets dreadful harmony
Alarms doth rather sound then victory.
Night rising from the Orient now invades
Each soul with rest, and every field with shades;
The festive fires shine clear, whose burning pride
Doth the black thickness of the mist divide:
The flames directly here, there curling rise,
Hizzing and rending darkness to the skies:
And whilst the sparks with trembling lights ascend,
Earth seems new stars unto the Heavens to lend.

184

Forth her nocturnal dwelling in the East
Aurora with a crown of light comes drest,
In a Pyropus Chariot she doth rise,
And silvers over first, then gilds the skies,
Loves brigher star, the Harbinger of day,
Her splendour stain'd with pale grief doth display,
To see th'oppression that her kingdom bears,
She drops from Heaven her dew distill'd in tears.
Now the hoarse Trumpet's early ecco all
Unto their work, ships to the shore doth call;
For ere the newes of victory attains
That mighty Monarch in Byzantium raigns,
A surer message Mustapha intends,
And of the Cyprian spoyles a present sends,
Desirous that his winged Navy might
Even feather'd Fame out-strip by speedier flight.
Unto the Sea they hasten with the best
Of Jewels, Gold, and Scarlets weight opprest;
With a rich burden are the vessels fraught
Of proud Materials curiously wrought;
The stout Keels pant, and the retyring Main
Bowes underneath the Treasure they sustain:
Yet Ships and Waters both seem proud to bear
Kingdoms contracted in that narrow sphear.

185

Virgins and Youths to sea are driven thence,
And Beauty pris'ner led with Innocence:
Who their soft limbs with cruel chains doth bind,
They with their eyes fetter his captive mind,
Victors and vanquisht thus together force
One for the others grief to feel remorse.
Thus Mars and Love their double Palms obtain,
Which this o're bodies, that o're souls doth gain.
The Pilot the tenacious ancour tore
(With crooked teeth) up from the sandy shore:
Of Eastern breath a gentle flattering gale,
Calms the smooth Sea, and swels the pregnant sail.
Their Oares the water break, the air their cries,
The Haven backward goes, the Navy flies;
The furrows break in silver foam; none know
Whither the Ship or Wind doth faster go.
Along the shore the wretched Mothers stray,
Their cheeks they tear, dishevel'd hairs display:
The lancing ships beholding from on high,
Away with their imprison'd children fly;
Tears to the Waves, sighs to the Air they lend,
And cries t'o're-take their dearest Pledges send;
Spreading their arms to sea, as if they might,
Quitting the land, follow the sails by flight.

186

Now in suspence they stand, whether they may
For quiet seas, and winds successful pray;
Their minds 'twixt wrath and pitty hovering were,
Nor know they what to wish, or what to fear;
What barbarous usage waits them, when they come
To that luxurious town Byzantium;
Subjected to his power, who thought th'immense
Worlds potent Master, yet is slave to sence
Then wakes a thought in their maternal minde,
Cruel, yet not in cruelty unkinde:
They wish their injuries reveng'd might be,
By storms, a threatning heaven, an angry sea;
Malignant Stars, and furious winds may reign,
Burying the ships in the vast watry plain.
But straight that cruel thought from their breast flies,
And thus what reason dictates, love denies.
A stately ship plowing the waves there went,
Excell'd the rest in height and ornament:
Her glorious Poop of gold, whose flame did stain,
And guild the blew enammel of the Main;
In which a virgin did to exile pass;
A fatal trophy she of conquest was;
For the rude Thracian forcing her away,
To buy one life a thousand deaths did pay.

187

Oronta fair, whose Ancestors were they
Who did long time the Cyprian Scepter sway,
With her new beams encreas'd, & made more bright
Their ancient splendor with a truer light.
Her wisdom doth her years and Sex out-went;
More noble by her vertue, then descent:
In this fair frame did a high spirit move,
And with her face her soul in beauty strove.
She did the Cnidian Goddess far excel,
Sailing th'Ægean in a golden shell;
She who with that false Trojan stole away,
And quitted, with her faith, the Græcian Bay,
Appear'd less fair on that unhappy shore,
When she to Ilium fire and ruine bore;
For from the eyes of this fair Captive came
Such beams as might convert the world to flame.
Nature diviner forms united here,
Above the beauties mortals use to wear;
The Heavens she did contract in one fair look;
Roses and light she from the morning took;
The Sun divided in her eyes, her hair
Scatters his loose beams in the wanton air;
Her beauty does so far transcend esteem,
Beauties Idæa doth lesse beauty seem.

188

Her sad Companions weep, yet she keeps dry
Amidst these show'rs of tears her lively eye:
Her lofty spirit cannot stoop so low
Danger to fear, or fruitless prayers bestow.
Confus'd her actions are, her looks severe,
Here reserv'd thoughts deep resolution bear;
Yet there was nothing in her face reveal'd
Of that designe lay in her breast conceal'd.
Thus with her false reasons; Shall the dead
Their blood for us, and we tears only shed?
They deceas'd gloriously, there is no way
Now left us to escape, but dye as they:
Death cannot be deni'd; with sacred fire
Some power Celestial doth my breast inspire;
My soul to Heaven inviting seems to cry
Alas we cannot live, unless we dye.
Beneath the Decks there is a place, where are
The wicked instruments of Fire and War,
Sulphureous Powder, Balls of Brass and Lead,
A pondrous load, which when the fire doth spread
Throughout the air, the lightning breaks asunder,
And Canons from their hollow bosom thunder.
When these the ships do mutually return,
They now dart lightning, now with lightning burn.

189

Th'Heroick Virgin, here intent, doth see
Both time and place to her Design agree:
Flames in her eyes, in her breast anger burns,
Now to cold Ice, and strait to fire she turns,
Shall the proud Turks (saith she) in triumph play,
Boasting Oronta is their fetter'd Prey?
They have not robb'd me of my liberty;
Spight of these stubborn Bonds my soul is free.
Behold in this close place an open way
To freedom, here my Chains their ransom pay;
Her earthly weight here off the soul may shake,
And her swift flight to Heaven may freely take.
Love for my sake no triumphs must pretend,
Nor 'gainst a barbarous heart his Bow shall bend;
To chaster zeal must yeeld his vain desire,
And in celestial flames his flames expire.
Such Fire I'le kindle as shall fatal prove,
And those extinguish that are rais'd by Love.
Masters with Slaves in Death shall equal be,
And Captives gain o're Victors victory:
End to our Wrongs and their Pride this shall give,
And all at Death, e're at the shore arrive.
To you bright flames that free me from this death
My Body, I my Soul to Heaven bequeath.

190

This said, the burning Torch she holds upright;
And as about to throw, she shakes the light;
Yet timerously bold, her heart relents,
And of her former boldness she repents;
Thus burning, freezing, sighing, dumb appears,
A thousand times at once both dares and fears.
At last, still do I doubt? still live? (she said,)
They merit death that are of death afraid.
With that the deadly flame she from her throws,
Which in a moment up the powder blows:
The hollow ship thunders, the dreadful cries
And horrid noise the deafn'd air surprize;
Death gave no time to fear the dismal light;
The fire did sooner seize then did the fright;
The bodies dead and half dead th'air do fill;
Smoak sends up clouds, & blood doth showers distil.
Masts, Cordage, Decks, and Kell asunder flye,
And of one ship a hundred floating lye.
Of prisoners now the Guardians have no care,
But all alike are hurri'd through the air:
The fire, the Wealth, the Bodies all in one
Together are in dark confusion gone.
Some upwards mount, others fall down, and have
Death in the fire, and in the flood a grave.

191

So Ætna from her black internal parts
Thunders aloud, and lightning upwards darts,
Breathing out Sulphur from its hollow veins,
The torrid air the borrowed heat retains:
Stones frō th'eternal shades to Heaven are thrown,
The fields with showers of burning sand o're-flown.
And whilst together smoak and fire ascend,
Darkness and light for victory contend.
In the destructive fury of the fire,
She that first kindled it did first expire;
Her body by this sudden force is born
Into the air, in thousand pieces torn:
Her mangled limbs dispersed at their fall,
In the kind Sea receive their burial.
Thus she at once is burnt, is torn, is drownd,
A glorious death, e're she perceiv'd, she found.
You that in marble, and in ancient Rowls,
Make scrutiny for the Heroick souls,
You by whom acts renown'd in peace or war,
Eternized to future ages are,
Fix here your thoughts, your studies, and your verse,
And onely her immortal praise reherse:
So you of wits, of women she the glory,
You by Oronta live, she by your story

192

Winds with the flames do happily conspire,
And the whole Fleet alike receives the fire.
Auster spreads wide the heat, all is o're-run
A thousand fires delated into one.
The crackling blaze, and dusky clouds that rise,
Make bright the waters, and make dark the skies,
Like burning Mists that in Earths bowels dwell,
Darkness ascends, as if the Sea were Hell.
All dye, yet all attempt their death to shun;
Some hide them, some they know not whither run:
The active flame in every part resides,
Seizing the Mast, the Poop, the Prow, the sides.
And to anticipate the Fates decree,
Into the fire some leap, some to the Sea;
Languishing hope is of all flight bereft,
No means but death to scape from death is left.
The bloody surface of the water bears
Bows, Arrows, Ensigns, Helmets, Targets, Spears;
Here bodies half alive, and there quite dead:
A stranger Trunk joyns to an unknown Head.
The tatter'd limbs divided are from limbs,
Here broken bones, and there a half-skull swims.
Some whilst they vomit blood do water drink,
Some vainly thinking to save others, sink.

193

The plunderer is plunder'd of his Prey,
Spoils spread by fire upon the Water stray,
The wealth of Cyprus burnt, yet drowned lyes;
Seas swallow what a kingdom did comprize;
The burning Timbers float in sea and blood,
Carrying a fire triumphant o're the flood.
The waters swoln with streams of goar look red,
And dying men are mingled with the dead.
Mean while from Cyprius sands the Mothers gaze
Intentively upon the dismal blaze;
Amaz'd to hear the seas with thunder roar,
The air with smoak, the waves with light spread ore,
A thousand hopeless heats in this fire freez,
This fire extracts from eyes a thousand seas:
Sighs from the land are sent, and tears are shed
By those who dye with grief, to those are dead.
The waters back the floating bodies drive,
Which at their native soil at length arrive;
In haste the Mothers (Mothers now no more)
Collect th'unknown scorcht Reliques on the shore,
Their grief augments, their cries they now raise higher,
And in deep sighs their weary souls expire.
The blameless Sea more then before offends,
Whom it took living thence, dead back it sends.

194

Yet to the dead the living envy bears,
For weigh'd with such a death, life vile appears.
The dead are free, but those to life confin'd
Are miserable slaves to slaves design'd:
Indulgent Fate by taking life from those,
Hath rescu'd them from th'out-rage of their foes;
These ever weary of their destiny,
Suffer a thousand deaths before they dye.
Such was Oronta's memorable Fate,
Which some more noble Muse should celebrate;
That all the World from the Suns early rise,
Unto his set, her name may solemnize;
That her example ever may remain,
Who lost in fire, in Verse may live again:
When my low thoughts to this high Theam aspire,
I learn not how to praise, but to admire.

195

ECHO

In a solitary Grove,
The sad witness of his Love,
Poor Siringo (vainly who
Did Licoris long pursue)
Here his weary steps restrain'd:
And so sweetly he complain'd,
That the water, and the air,
Wept, and sigh'd, his plaints to hear.
Silvio overheard his speech,
And engrav'd it on a Beech.
Nymph said he, a Nymph thou wert,
Now a naked voice thou art;
Who words followst, though thy hast
Onely can o'retake the last;
Thou, who with this murmuring source,
Birds, and Beasts, maintainst discourse,
To these ruggid cliffs confin'd;
Thou (ah none but thou) art kind:
Who in pitty of my mone,
Often dost forget thine own.

196

Oracle of rural loves!
Speaking shade! soul of the Groves!
Who, through each deserted place,
Dost thy savage Lover trace;
Aery spirit! wandring noise!
Unseen Image of the voice!
Wilde inhabitant that dwels,
In inhospitable Cells!
If thou canst thy passion share,
Hear, and pitty my despair.
To the sad complaints I send,
From thy hollow Grot attend:
But my grief when I have told,
To no other ear unfold,
If thy own unhappy fate;
Teach thee pitty to my state,
Carefully this secret lock,
In the caverns of that Rock.
And let its rude breast become,
To my woes, and thee, a tomb.
Not that I fear to complain;
Of my wrongs, and her disdain;
But, I would not, at their story,
The unpitying heavens should glory:
Nor that this unhappy noise,
Should disturb anothers joyes.
Come then; to this dismal shade,
Never by the Sun betraid,
We together will retire:
And our griefs alone expire.

197

Thou our Destinies wilt finde
If compar'd, alike unkinde.
Equal Beauty crowns both them
Who our amorous suits contemn.
Thou to empty air didst turn,
I in sighs dissolving mourn:
Thou retir'st from humane sight,
Courting loneness, flying light;
I the deserts seeking, shun
Equally, the World, and Sun.
Hither often comes my Coy
Fair one, like thy cruel Boy,
And in this Brooks fluid glass,
With delight surveys her face.
But if she, like him, to none
Save her self must kindness own,
Why my heart will she not view;
Where her form Loves Pencil drew?
And if pleas'd with that she be,
Love her self in loving me?
If my sorrows, thus displai'd,
Thy compassion may perswade;
Quit these Beasts, and Forests wilde,
To seek one then these less milde.
Leave thy dwelling in this Stone,
To finde out a living one.
On thy wing my soft sighs bear,
Breath them gently in her ear;
That she thus may learn to prove
Grief, though ignorant of Love.

198

Or when day's bright Star the fields
With meridian lustre guilds,
If she seek out this retreat,
To defend her from the heat;
And upon this smooth bank ly,
Teaching the birds harmony;
Or discourse with thee: o'recome
With her voice, oh be not dumb:
Tell her what my grief affords,
In entire, not broken words.
Tell her, Thou, that to my Woe
Both companion art, and Foe;
The deep plaints my sorrows vent,
In this hapless Languishment.
Say how often I to thee.
Have accus'd her cruelty;
Taught thee her lov'd name t'invoke,
Carv'd it upon every Oak;
Trees Licoris onely bear
To the Eye, Rocks to the Ear.
Nymph, if thus thou wilt relieve me,
Thousand Garlands I will give thee:
Juno shall prove harsh no more,
And thy humane vail restore:
Heaven thy speech return, appeas'd,
To thy Arms thy Lover pleas'd.
And this Cave, which hath so long
Been acquainted with thy wrong;
Shall a faithful witness be
Of the love 'twixt him, and thee.

199

Fool! who vainly doth deceive thee!
Or of Reason thus bereave thee?
Why dost thou thy sad estate
To the sportive streams relate?
Comfort who, or pitty finds,
In dumb Rocks, or in deaf Winds.
And thou aid of all my Grief,
Where I onely found Relief,
My last accents who dost ease,
Art as silent now, as these.
Cruel Nymph! to rob my Joyes
Voice it self is without Noyse.
She, who did some speech retain,
Her own sorrows to complain;
Now in silence drowns her Grief,
Lest she should give mine Relief.
Wanton daughter of the Air!
Who regard'st not my dispair,
Know I can grieve inward too,
And be dumb as well as you.

200

LOVES EMBASSY.

In the bright Region of the fertile East,
Where constant calms smooth Heav'ns unclowded Brow,
There lives an easie people, vow'd to rest,
Who on Love onely all their hours bestow:
By no unwelcome Discontents opprest;
No cares, save those that from this Passion flow,
Here raigns, here ever uncontroll'd did raign,
The beauteous Queen sprung from the foming Main.
Her Hand the Scepter bears, the Crown her Head,
Her willing Vassals here their Tribute pay:
Here is her sacred Power, and Statutes spread,
Which all with cheerful forwardness obey:
The Lover by affliction hither led,
Receives relief, sent satisfi'd away:
Here all enjoy, to give their soft flames ease,
The pliant figures of their Mistresses.
Love is the subject all their talk implies;
Enamoured is the season of the Year:
Every thing kills with Love, or for Love dies:
Without Loves Pass, there is no coming near.
Love is their Traffick, Stock, and Merchandize:
Love is the onely business every where.
When the young Trees thrust their fresh blossoms out,
The smiling Branches seem with Love to sprout.

201

Love every structure offers to the sight,
And every stone his soft impression wears.
The Fountains moving pitty, and delight,
With amorous murmurs drop perswasive tears.
The Rivers in their courses Love invite,
Love is the onely sound their motion bears:
The winds in whispers sooth these kinde desires,
And fan with their mild breath, Loves glowing fires.
Amidst a wide, green Plain, the Royal Seat
Of this Majestick Queen is sweetly plac'd.
About it runs a purling Rivolet,
On either side by spreading trees embrac'd:
From whose thick boughs, with constant shades repleat,
The day in her Solstitial pride is chac'd:
These bloom with fragrant blossoms all the year,
And Nightingales their trillo practise here.
A thousand petty Rills there are beside,
Which in uncertain windings loosely stray:
And by wilde Labyrinths their Current guide,
One crossing wantonly the others way.
The softer murmurs of whose pleasing tyde,
To their Embrace the virgin flowers betray;
Which, with a bashful niceness, trembling fall
Into the stream, obsequious to Loves Call.
A Tower there is which this large Plain defends,
Kept by the Boy who o're all Souls prevails:
Here every Morn and Evening, he ascends,
And with his Arrows all the Earth assails.
The Wounds he makes, Art with no cure befriends;
His Mark he never sees, yet never fails.

202

The subtile stroak, at first, infers no smart,
But on the sudden, gnaws the tortur'd heart.
Weary with shooting through the darkned air
These feather'd tempests, mighty Love comes thence,
Enclos'd by thousand lesser Loves, a share
To every one alike he doth dispence.
Affection is committed to their care:
They also have the power to wound our sence;
But their blunt shafts can onely raze the skin,
And vulgar souls, to vulgar pleasures win.
In the remotest corner of this land,
Down in a vail, there is another seat:
About it woody Mountains tottring stand,
To overlook the shadows they beget:
Whose twisted branches daylight countermand:
With darkness all, all is with night repleat:
The worst of sorrows, and misfortunes, dwell.
With the sad owner of this luckless Cell.
Dire Jealousie; fear'd, and afraid of all:
Whom the Queen sometimes sees in complement,
And to divert the mischiefs, that befall
Her wretched servants, piously is bent.
She her inheritance this place doth call;
And from the Royal blood boasts her descent.
The sacred Queen of Love, though she disdain her,
Because so near a kin, bound to maintain her.
The discontents that on this sad Wretch wait,
She with her native joyes, sweetly allayes:
Amongst her people, (strangers to debate)
Here lives and loves, and others Loves surveys.

203

Pleasure, her chamber, and her Chair of state,
Richly adorns; Pleasure, her Limbs arrays.
The Loves of such blest souls, as with most true
Devotion serve, are always in her view.
These swell with Pride, that their fair Queen, before
Her other Subjects, their desires prefers:
Of Lovers who obtain what they implore,
The praise, and victory, is onely hers.
With her, their pure affections sacred store,
Repose the conquerd, and the Conquerers.
Their stock continual Interest doth fill,
Much by good Fate increasing more by ill:
She all these suppliants distinctly knows.
And purifies the flames wherein they burn.
Much time with pious diligence bestows,
To ease the miseries of such as mourn.
Takes an exact account of all their woes,
To give them of delight a full return.
And to this end, in her admired name,
A general assembly doth proclaim.
Now rose the smiling Star that guilds the Face
Of our dark sphear, at whose approach grow dim
The sparkling gems of night, forc'd to give place
To one whose beauty far out-rivals them;
When Venus left her Court, the Plains to grace;
Her Love, and Jealousie attended him.
Jealousie, plague of every amorous breast,
Which with most spight the fairest doth infest.
Forth comes this Queen of Beauty, and Desire,
Her tresses playing with the wanton air,

204

Bright her Complexion is, white her Attire,
Sweetness, and Majesty, her Glances share,
Her Eyes, which Men adore, and Gods admire,
Forbid to hope, nor suffer to despair.
Including all the Graces in one look,
That Zeuxes from Crotonian virgins took.
When all her People were together met,
First to the midst, then round about she goes;
And as she views them, an enlivening heat
On every heart her radiant eyes disclose:
Commands her Son appoint to each his seat,
And every Lover in his rank dispose;
The little Herald, place for all prepares,
According to the quality of their cares.
She saw the Loves of all this numerous round,
Alike successful were, alike were pleas'd.
Their griefs by mutual kindness softned found;
Their discontents by joynt delight appeas'd.
All with fruition of their wishes crown'd;
All of their sorrows by each other eas'd.
She saw them in affection kindly strive,
And by exchange their happy passions thrive.
Happy indeed these present Lovers were;
But of the absent, bitter discontents,
In several shapes, were represented here;
Unequal aims, the diff'rent accidents,
Of Love, and Scorn, Temerity, and Fear:
Perplexed thoughts, expecting worse events;
And all the sad varieties of Fate,
Which on these disagreeing Lovers wait.

205

Seeing so many of her own undon,
The Queen was mov'd with sence of their distress;
And since no other way was left to shun
The rigorous cause of their unhappiness,
Strait on an Embassy commands her Son;
And in this Language doth his Charge express;
Whilst, as she spake, the listning winds were chain'd
To her soft accents, Floods their Course restrain'd.
Son! thou art equally concern'd with Me,
In all mishaps that on our state depend:
Thou seest the harms our subjects suffer; Thee
To undeceive, and cure their Griefs, I send.
A world of fickle, faithless souls, there be,
Who to the sacred Name of Love pretend:
And what more then my wrongs my thoughts doth vex,
The blame of this, lies chiefly on our Sex.
Indifferent Lovers, loosely by the same
Affection, are at once, to many led:
Inconstant, treacherously their faith disclaim,
Their fleeting vows no sooner taught, then fled.
Ambitious Honour court, whose sickly flame
No longer lasts then by that fuel fed,
These coyness counterfeit, and those desire;
To stain my Name, and Credit, both conspire.
But some there are, who impiously protest
Against our Laws, and our just Power despise;
To Scorn, and Pride, are votaries profest:
And o're their fellow subjects tyrannize.

206

These will infect, if not in time supprest,
Our pure Religion with black Heresies.
These, whom in vain it were with force t'invade,
By Reason bend, and in these words perswade.
Fair Rebels! who your lawful King depose,
And fondly your Allegiance cast away;
To give admittance to his mortal Foes;
And in his room Disdain and Pride obey:
'Tis Love, who Beauty on the Fair bestows:
Tribute to Love, the Fair are bound to pay:
Him, who your beings gave, you would destroy,
And 'gainst himself, the arms he lent imploy.
This Deity, whose sacred Name you slight,
Is Master of Content, commands all Pleasure;
Will entertain you still with new Delight,
More joyes, then howrs, your happy lives shall measure;
'Tis justice to your selves, to do him right;
No other way left to secure your Treasure.
Bold Time will force the Prize for which Love sues,
And rob you of the wealth you would not use.
Strict punishment, besides, you must expect
From the just Powers you impiously incense:
They your contempt severely will correct,
In others to prevent the like offence.
Your Prayers, too late presented, will reject;
No vows, no tears, shall with their rage dispence,
Choose then the safe, if not the pleasing state,
Reward attends your Love, Revenge your Hate.

207

This said, a general shout past through the throng;
In which, her subjects their applause declare.
Her Chariot then she mounts, and all along,
Scatters rich Perfumes, through the ambient air.
Thousands of Loves wait on her with a Song;
All to her Court with equal Joy repair.
There every Lover his delight renews;
Whilst her glad Son, his Mothers Charge pursues.

208

THE SOLITVDE.

'Twas now the blooming season of the year,
And in disguise Europa's Ravisher
(His brow arm'd with a Crescent, with such beams
Encompast, as the Sun unclowded streams
The sparkling glory of the Zodiak!) led
His numerous Heard, along the azure mead.
When he, whose right to beauty might remove
The Youth of Ida from the Cup of Jove,
Shipwrackt, repuls'd, and absent, did complain
Of his hard Fate and Mistresses disdain.
With such sad sweetness, that the Winds, and Sea,
In sighs, and murmurs, kept him company.
And mov'd with such a charitable care,
As once Arion found a Plank prepare:
A kind, small Piece of that tall Pine, which cou'd
Defie the Winds whilst on the Hill it stood;
Which Dolphin-like, the young Advent'rer saves,
From the vast dangers of unbounded Waves.
The greedy Sea, that swallowed him before,
Now casts him up again upon the shore;
Hard by a Rock, with reeds, & warm down crown'd;
Where Joves great Bird a Nest, he harbour found:
And, wrapt in Froth and Sedges, kist the Sand,
Then, hangs the Plank that wafted him to land,

209

Upon the Cliff, which with glad Pride, endu'd
The flattring trophy of his Gratitude.
Disrob'd, his Garments next (from the swoln threads
Wringing the Water he a drying spreads:
Till all the briny drops they had suckt in
The Suns warm flame lick'd gently oft agen:
By this time Night began t'ungild the skies,
Hils from the Sea, Seas from the Hils arise,
Confusedly unequal; when once more
Th'unhappy Youth, invested in the poor
Remains of his late shipwrack, through sharp briars,
And dusky shades up the high Rock aspires.
The steep ascent scarce to be reach'd by Aide
Of Wings, he climbs; less weary, then afraid.
At last he gains the top; so strong, and high,
As scaling dreaded not, nor Battery,
An equal Judge, the Difference to decide,
Twixt the mute Land, and ever-sounding tide.
His steps now more secur'd; a glimmering light
(The Pharos of some Cottage) takes his sight.
Dear Beams! not Leda's sparkling Twins, saith he,
Yet the sole Star that guides my destinie!
May no unfriendly tree ecclipse thy Fire;
Against thee, no malicious Blast conspire.
As when the Huntsman, with fierce speed, makes plain
The rugged Mountain, eager to attain
The dark-skin'd Beast, on whose dark brow is plac'd
A bright Tiara, with rich Lustre grac'd:
A Gem (if Fame say true) whose glittr'ing Ray,
Spight of the æmulous Stars, turns night to day;
This stranger so measures with even Feet
Th'uneven Thickets, his Polestar to meet.

210

Barking to make th'approaching youth retire,
The Dog, a wakeful Guardian, calls him nigher.
And now the light he sees, whose dim beams broke
So far through the thick shades a sturdy Oak;
Which (like the Fly that in a Taper playes)
Resolv'd to ashes in a sportive Blaze.
Where he no sooner comes, but in free words,
Such as no aiery Complement affords,
He is bid welcome by a jovial Round
Of simple Goatheards, who bright Vulcan crown'd.
O happy ever open Mansion!
The sacred Fane of Pales! Floras Throne!
Thy builder drew no quaint Designe enchac't
With curious Works, rear'd to a height so vast,
As if Heavens Arch were but thy Cupula;
Rafters of Oak, thatch'd with a little straw,
Make thy poor Fabrick up; the Swain's defence
Instead of dreadful Steel is Innocence;
Who whistles home his Flock, injur'd by none:
Oh happy ever open Mansion!
Ambitious Dropsie shuns thy wholsom air,
As she who Vipers makes her onely fair.
Self-Love, that wanton Sphinx hath here no place;
A wild beasts shape, beneath a virgins face:
Who makes Narcissus now the Fountains fly,
And in the Woods keep Eccho company.
Nor profane Ceremony, who in gay
Salutes, squanders Times precious lands away.
At which the honest Countrey man doth laugh,
Carelessly leaning on his crooked staff;
Their art by his sincerity out-gon:
O happy ever open Mansion.

211

To thy low threshold Flatt'ry not resorts,
The treacherous Syren of Imperial Courts:
Round whom, so many shipwrackt vessels ly,
Trophy's of her enchanting Harmony.
Here Falsehood harbours not, handmaid to Pride,
Whose guilded train she spreads her feet to hide.
Nor shines a Princes dazling favour here,
Which melts their Waxen Wings who fly too near,
Into the foming Ocean headlong thrown.
Oh happy! ever open Mansion!
The savage Mountains courteous sons, with plain
Civility, their strange guest entertain.
Such us'd the first possessors of the wood,
Whom th'Ash afforded covert, the Oak food.
To spread their Board, a clean course cloth they get;
And in a homely Pail, before him set
Milk which that day the rising Morning spied,
And blusht to see her white so far out-vied.
A Goat, had been two hundred females Spouse
Five year, nor spar'd the Grapes on Bacchus brows,
(How little then his vine-yards!) was renown'd
For numerous conquests; wth Love always crown'd;
(By a young Rebel slain, whose yellow beard
Not fully grown, his horns as yet scarce hard,
Who by this death a thousand lives preserv'd,)
Powder'd, and died to Scarlet, in was serv'd.
Then, on soft skins distended on the ground,
They their tir'd limbs repose; sleeping more sound
Then Princes that on Tyrian purple ly,
Adorn'd with Millains rich embroidery.
Not with the busie fumes of Wine opprest;
Which with vain dreams disturb the rich mans rest:

212

Whilst some ambitious toil he seems to take
(Like Sisyphus,) more cozen'd when awake.
Far from all noise they sleep securely here;
Nor to be rows'd by Drums, or Trumpets fear.
Onely Nights silence the fierce Dog deceaves,
Chiding the winde for sporting with the leaves.
Nor rose, till the wing'd Choristers oth'air,
Did to the Sun the Morns approach declare:
Who quits her fluid bed, and with new fire,
Reguilds their humble mansions verdant spire.
—difficiles valete nugæ.