 | Seianus his Fall |  |
Vpon Seianvs.
So brings the wealth-contracting iewellerPearles and deare stones, from richest shores and streames,
As thy accomplisht trauaile doth confer
From skill-inriched soules, their wealthyer gems;
Cut, and adorn'd beyond their natiue merits,
His solid flames, as thine hath here inrold
In more then golden verse, those better'd spirits;
So he entreasures Princes cabinets,
As thy wealth will their wished libraries;
So, on the throate of the rude sea, he sets
His ventrous foot, for his illustrous prise;
And through wild desarts, arm'd with wilder beasts,
As thou aduentur'st on the multitude,
Vpon the boggie, and engulfed brests
Of hyrelings, sworne to find most right, most rude:
And he, in stormes at sea, doth not endure,
Nor in vast desarts, amongst wolues, more danger;
Then we, that would with vertue liue secure,
Sustayne for her in euery vices anger.
Nor is this Allegorie vniustly rackt,
To this strange length: Onely, that iewells are,
In estimation meerely, so exact:
And thy worke, in it selfe, is deare and rare.
Wherein Minerva had beene vanquished,
Had shee, by it, her sacred loomes aduanc't,
And through thy subiect wouen her graphicke thred,
Contending therein, to be more entranc't;
For, though thy hand was scarce addrest to draw
The semi-circle of Seianvs life,
Thy Muse yet makes it the whole sphære, and law
To all State liues: and bounds ambition's strife.
And as a little brooke creepes from his spring,
With shallow tremblings, through the lowest vales,
As if he fear'd his streame abroad to bring,
Least prophane feet should wrong it, and rude gales;
But finding happy chamels, and supplyes
Of other foords mixe with his modest course,
He growes a goodly riuer; and descryes
The strength, that man'd him, since he left his source;
Then fakes he in delight some meades, and groues,
And, with his two-edg'd waters, flourishes
Before great palaces, and all mens loues
Build by his shores, to greet his passages:
So thy chaste Muse, by vertuous selfe-mistrust,
Which is a true marke of the truest merit;
In virgin feare of mens illiterate lust,
Shut her soft wings, and durst not show her spirit;
Till, nobly cherisht, now thou lett'st her flie,
Singing the sable orgies of the Muses,
And in the highest pitch of tragœdie,
Mak'st her command, all things thy ground produces.
Besides, thy Poëme hath this due respect,
That it lets passe nothing, without obseruing,
Rude manners, and renowme the well deseruing:
Performing such a liuely euidence
In thy narrations, that thy hearers still
Thou turn'st to thy spectators; and the sense
That thy spectators haue of good or ill,
Thou iniect'st ioyntly to thy readers soules.
So deare is held, so deckt thy numerous taske,
As thou putt'st handles to the Thespian boules,
Or stuck'st rich plumes in the Palladian caske.
All thy worth, yet, thy selfe must patronise,
By quaffing more of the Castalian head;
In expiscation of whose mysteries,
Our nets must still be clogd, with heauie lead,
To make them sinke, and catch: For chearefull gold
Was neuer found in the Pierian streames,
But wants, and scornes, and shames for siluer sold.
What? what shall we elect in these extreames?
Now by the shafts of the great Cyrrhan Poet,
That beare all light, that is, about the world;
I would haue all dull Poet-haters know it,
They shall be soule-bound, and in darknesse hurld,
A thousand yeares (as Sathan was, their syre)
Ere any, worthie the poetique name,
(Might I, that warme but at the Muses fire,
Presume to guard it) should let deathlesse Fame
Light halfe a beame of all her hundred eyes,
At his dimme taper, in their memories.
Flie, flie, you are too neere; so, odorous flowers
Being held too neere the sensor of our sense,
Render not pure, nor so sincere their powers,
As being held a little distance thence.
O could the world but feele how sweet a touch
The Knowledge hath, which is in loue with goodnesse,
(If Poesie were not rauished so much,
And her compos'de rage, held the simplest woodnesse,
Though of all heats, that temper humane braines,
Hers euer was most subtle, high, and holy,
First binding sauage liues, in ciuile chaines:
Solely religious, and adored solely,
If men felt this) they would not thinke a loue,
That giues it selfe, in her, did vanities giue;
Who is (in earth, though low) in worth aboue,
Most able t'honour life, though least to liue.
And so good Friend, safe passage to thy freight,
To thee a long peace, through a vertuous strife,
In which, lets both contend to vertues height,
Not making fame our obiect, but good life.
Geor. Chapman.
| Seianus his Fall | |