Yes, and keep it still,
585 Lean on it safely; not a period
Shall be unsaid for me: against the threats
Of malice or of sorcery, or that power
Which erring men call Chance, this I hold firm,
Virtue may be assailed, but never hurt,
590 Surprised by unjust force, but not enthralled,
Yea even that which mischief meant most harm,
Shall in the happy trial prove most glory.
But evil on itself shall back recoil,
And mix no more with goodness, when at last
595 Gathered like scum, and settled to itself
It shall be in eternal restless change
Self-fed, and self-consumed. If this fail,
The pillared firmament is rottenness,
And earth’s base built on stubble. But come let’s on.
600 Against th’ opposing will and arm of Heav’n
May never this just sword be lifted up.
But for that damned magician, let him be girt
With all the grisly legïons that troop
Under the sooty flag of Acheron,
605 Harpies and Hydras, or all the monstrous forms
’Twixt Africa and Ind, I’ll find him out,
And force him to restore his purchase back,
Or drag him by the curls to a foul death,
Cursed as his life.
Spirit. Alas good vent’rous youth,
610 I love thy courage yet, and bold emprise,
But here thy sword can do thee little stead;
Far other arms, and other weapons must
Be those that quell the might of Hellish charms;
He with his bare wand can unthread thy joints,
And crumble all thy sinews.
615 Elder Brother. Why prithee shepherd
How durst thou then thyself approach so near
As to make this relation?
Spirit. Care and utmost shifts
How to secure the Lady from surprisal
Brought to my mind a certain shepherd lad
620 Of small regard to see to, yet well skilled
In every virtuous plant and healing herb
That spreads her verdant leaf to the morning ray;
He loved me well, and oft would beg me sing,
Which when I did, he on the tender grass
625 Would sit, and hearken even to ecstasy,
And in requital ope his leathern scrip,
And show me simples of a thousand names
Telling their strange and vigorous faculties;
Amongst the rest a small unsightly root,
630 But of divine effect, he culled me out;
The leaf was darkish, and had prickles on it,
But in another country, as he said,
Bore a bright golden flower, but not in this soil:
Unknown, and like esteemed, and the dull swain
635 Treads on it daily with his clouted shoon,
And yet more med’cinal is it than that Moly
That Hermes once to wise Ulysses gave;
He called it haemony, and gave it me,
And bade me keep it as of sov’reign use
640 ’Gainst all enchantments, mildew blast, or damp
Or ghastly Furies’ apparitïon;
I pursed it up, but little reck’ning made
Till now that this extremity compelled,
But now I find it true; for by this means
645 I knew the foul enchanter though disguised,
Entered the very lime-twigs of his spells,
And yet came off: if you have this about you
(As I will give you when we go) you may
Boldly assault the necromancer’s hall;
650 Where if he be, with dauntless hardihood,
And brandished blade rush on him, break his glass,
And shed the luscious liquor on the ground,
But seize his wand. Though he and his cursed crew
Fierce sign of battle make, and menace high,
655 Or like the sons of Vulcan vomit smoke,
Yet will they soon retire, if he but shrink.
Elder Brother. Thyrsis lead on apace, I’ll follow thee,
And some good angel bear a shield before us.
The scene changes to a stately palace, set out with all manner of deliciousness: soft music, tables spread with all dainties. Comus appears with his rabble, and the Lady set in an enchanted chair, to whom he offers his glass, which she puts by, and goes about to rise.
Comus. Nay Lady sit; if I but wave this wand,
660 Your nerves are all chained up in alabaster,
And you a statue; or as Daphne was
Root–bound, that fled Apollo.
Lady. Fool do not boast,
Thou canst not touch the freedom of my mind
With all thy charms, although this corporal rind
665 Thou hast immanacled, while Heav’n sees good.
Comus. Why are you vexed Lady? why do you frown?
Here dwell no frowns, nor anger, from these gates
Sorrow flies far: see here be all the pleasures
That fancy can beget on youthful thoughts
670 When the fresh blood grows lively, and returns
Brisk as the April buds in primrose season.
And first behold this cordial julep here
That flames, and dances in his crystal bounds
With spirits of balm, and fragrant syrups mixed.
675 Not that Nepenthes which the wife of Thone
In Egypt gave to Jove-born Helena
Is of such power to stir up joy as this,
To life so friendly, or so cool to thirst.
Why should you be so cruel to yourself,
680 And to those dainty limbs which Nature lent
For gentle usage, and soft delicacy?
But you invert the cov’nants of her trust,
And harshly deal like an ill borrower
With that which you received on other terms,
685 Scorning the unexempt conditïon
By which all mortal frailty must subsist,
Refreshment after toil, ease after pain,
That have been tired all day without repast,
And timely rest have wanted; but fair virgin
This will restore all soon.
690 Lady. ’Twill not false traitor,
’Twill not restore the truth and honesty
That thou hast banished from thy tongue with lies;
Was this the cottage, and the safe abode
Thou told’st me of? What grim aspécts are these,
695 These ugly–headed monsters? Mercy guard me!
Hence with thy brewed enchantments, foul deceiver;
Hast thou betrayed my credulous innocence
With vizored falsehood, and base forgery,
And wouldst thou seek again to trap me here
700 With lickerish baits fit to ensnare a brute?
Were it a draught for Juno when she banquets,
I would not taste thy treasonous offer; none
But such as are good men can give good things,
And that which is not good, is not delicious
705 To a well–governed and wise appetite.
Comus. O foolishness of men! that lend their ears
To those budge doctors of the Stoic fur,
And fetch their precepts from the Cynic tub,
Praising the lean and sallow Abstinence.
710 Wherefore did Nature pour her bounties forth
With such a full and unwithdrawing hand,
Covering the earth with odours, fruits, and flocks,
Thronging the seas with spawn innumerable,
But all to please, and sate the curious taste?
715 And set to work millions of spinning worms,
That in their green shops weave the smooth-haired silk
To deck her sons, and that no corner might
Be vacant of her plenty, in her own loins
She hutched th’ all-worshipped ore, and precious gems
720 To store her children with; if all the world
Should in a pet of temperance feed on pulse,
Drink the clear stream, and nothing wear but frieze,
Th’ All-giver would be unthanked, would be unpraised,
Not half his riches known, and yet despised,
725 And we should serve him as a grudging master,
As a penurious niggard of his wealth,
And live like Nature’s bastards, not her sons,
Who would be quite surcharged with her own weight,
And strangled with her waste fertility;
730 Th’ earth cumbered, and the winged air darked with plumes,
The herds would over–multitude their lords,
The sea o’erfraught would swell, and th’ unsought diamonds
Would so emblaze the forehead of the deep,
And so bestud with stars, that they below
735 Would grow inured to light, and come at last
To gaze upon the sun with shameless brows.
List Lady be not coy, and be not cozened
With that same vaunted name Virginity;
Beauty is Nature’s coin, must not be hoarded,
740 But must be current, and the good thereof
Consists in mutual and partaken bliss,
Unsavoury in th’ enjoyment of itself.
If you let slip time, like a neglected rose
It withers on the stalk with languished head.
745 Beauty is Nature’s brag, and must be shown
In courts, at feasts, and high solemnities
Where most may wonder at the workmanship;
It is for homely features to keep home,
They had their name thence; coarse complexïons
750 And cheeks of sorry grain will serve to ply
The sampler, and to tease the huswife’s wool.
What need a vermeil-tinctured lip for that,
Love-darting eyes, or tresses like the morn?
There was another meaning in these gifts,
755 Think what, and be advised, you are but young yet.
Lady. I had not thought to have unlocked my lips
In this unhallowed air, but that this juggler
Would think to charm my judgement, as mine eyes,
Obtruding false rules pranked in reason’s garb.
760 I hate when vice can bolt her arguments,
And virtue has no tongue to check her pride:
Impostor do not charge most innocent Nature,
As if she would her children should be riotous
With her abundance; she good cateress
765 Means her provision only to the good
That live according to her sober laws,
And holy dictate of spare Temperance:
If every just man that now pines with want
Had but a moderate and beseeming share
770 Of that which lewdly–pampered Luxury
Now heaps upon some few with vast excess,
Nature’s full blessings would be well-dispensed
In unsuperfluous even proportion,
And she no whit encumbered with her store;
775 And then the Giver would be better thanked,
His praise due paid, for swinish gluttony
Ne’er looks to Heav’n amidst his gorgeous feast,
But with besotted base ingratitude
Crams, and blasphemes his feeder. Shall I go on?
780 Or have I said enough? To him that dares
Arm his profane tongue with contemptuous words
Against the sun–clad power of Chastity,
Fain would I something say, yet to what end?
Thou hast nor ear, nor soul to apprehend
785 The súblime notion, and high mystery
That must be uttered to unfold the sage
And serious doctrine of Virginity,
And thou art worthy that thou shouldst not know
More happiness than this thy present lot.
790 Enjoy your dear wit, and gay rhetoric
That hath so well been taught her dazzling fence,
Thou art not fit to hear thyself convinced;
Yet should I try, the uncontrollèd worth
Of this pure cause would kindle my rapt spirits
795 To such a flame of sacred vehemence,
That dumb things would be moved to sympathize,
And the brute earth would lend her nerves, and shake,
Till all thy magic structures reared so high,
Were shattered into heaps o’er thy false head.
800 Comus. She fables not, I feel that I do fear
Her words set off by some superior power;
And though not mortal, yet a cold shuddering dew
Dips me all o’er, as when the wrath of Jove
Speaks thunder, and the chains of Erebus
805 To some of Saturn’s crew. I must dissemble,
And try her yet more strongly. Come, no more,
This is mere moral babble, and direct
Against the canon laws of our foundation;
I must not suffer this; yet ’tis but the lees
810 And settlings of a melancholy blood;
But this will cure all straight, one sip of this
Will bathe the drooping spirits in delight
Beyond the bliss of dreams. Be wise, and taste.—
The Brothers rush in with swords drawn, wrest his glass out of his hand, and break it against the ground; his rout make sign of resistance, but are all driven in; the Attendant Spirit comes in.
Spirit. What, have you let the false enchanter ’scape?
815 O ye mistook, ye should have snatched his wand
And bound him fast; without his rod reversed,
And backward mutters of dissevering power,
We cannot free the Lady that sits here
In stony fetters fixed, and motionless;
820 Yet stay, be not disturbed, now I bethink me,
Some other means I have which may be used,
Which once of Meliboeus old I learnt,
The soothest shepherd that e’er piped on plains.
There is a gentle nymph not far from hence,
825 That with moist curb sways the smooth Severn stream,
Sabrina is her name, a virgin pure;
Whilom she was the daughter of Locrine,
That had the sceptre from his father Brute.
She guiltless damsel flying the mad pursuit
830 Of her enragèd stepdame Guendolen,
Commended her fair innocence to the flood
That stayed her flight with his cross-flowing course;
The water nymphs that in the bottom played,
Held up their pearled wrists and took her in,
835 Bearing her straight to agèd Nereus’ hall,
Who piteous of her woes, reared her lank head,
And gave her to his daughters to imbathe
In nectared lavers strewed with asphodel,
And through the porch and inlet of each sense
840 Dropped in ambrosial oils till she revived,
And underwent a quick immortal change
Made goddess of the river; still she retains
Her maiden gentleness, and oft at eve
Visits the herds along the twilight meadows,
845 Helping all urchin blasts, and ill–luck signs
That the shrewd meddling elf delights to make,
Which she with precious vialed liquors heals.
For which the shepherds at their festivals
Carol her goodness loud in rustic lays,
850 And throw sweet garland wreaths into her stream
Of pansies, pinks, and gaudy daffodils.
And, as the old swain said, she can unlock
The clasping charm, and thaw the numbing spell,
If she be right invoked in warbled song,
855 For maidenhood she loves, and will be swift
To aid a virgin, such as was herself
In hard–besetting need; this will I try
And add the power of some adjuring verse.
Song
Sabrina fair,
860 Listen where thou art sitting
Under the glassy, cool, translucent wave,
In twisted braids of lilies knitting
The loose train of thy amber-dropping hair;
Listen for dear honour’s sake,
865 Goddess of the silver lake,
Listen and save.
Listen and appear to us
In name of great Oceanus,
By th’ earth-shaking Neptune’s mace,
870 And Tethys’ grave majestic pace,
By hoary Nereus’ wrinkled look,
And the Carpathian wizard’s hook,
By scaly Triton’s winding shell,
And old sooth-saying Glaucus’ spell,
875 By Leucothea’s lovely hands,
And her son that rules the strands,
By Thetis’ tinsel-slippered feet,
And the songs of Sirens sweet,
By dead Parthenope’s dear tomb,
880 And fair Ligea’s golden comb,
Wherewith she sits on diamond rocks
Sleeking her soft alluring locks,
By all the nymphs that nightly dance
Upon thy streams with wily glance,
885 Rise, rise, and heave thy rosy head
From thy coral-paven bed,
And bridle in thy headlong wave,
Till thou our summons answered have.
Listen and save.
Sabrina rises, attended by water-nymphs, and sings,
890 By the rushy-fringèd bank,
Where grows the willow and the osier dank,
My sliding chariot stays,
Thick set with agate, and the azurn sheen
Of turkis blue, and emerald green
895 That in the channel strays,
Whilst from off the waters fleet
Thus I set my printless feet
O’er the cowslip’s velvet head,
That bends not as I tread;
900 Gentle swain at thy request
I am here.
Spirit. Goddess dear
We implore thy powerful hand
To undo the charmèd band
905 Of true virgin here distressed,
Through the force, and through the wile
Of unblest enchanter vile.
Sabrina. Shepherd ’tis my office best
To help ensnarèd chastity;
910 Brightest Lady look on me,
Thus I sprinkle on thy breast
Drops that from my fountain pure,
I have kept of precious cure;
Thrice upon thy finger’s tip,
915 Thrice upon thy rubied lip,
Next this marble venomed seat
Smeared with gums of glutinous heat
I touch with chaste palms moist and cold,
Now the spell hath lost his hold;
920 And I must haste ere morning hour
To wait in Amphitrite’s bower.
Sabrina descends, and the Lady rises out of her seat.
Spirit. Virgin, daughter of Locrine
Sprung of old Anchises’ line,
May thy brimmèd waves for this
925 Their full tribute never miss
From a thousand petty rills,
That tumble down the snowy hills:
Summer drought, or singèd air
Never scorch thy tresses fair,
930 Nor wet October’s torrent flood
Thy molten crystal fill with mud,
May thy billows roll ashore
The beryl, and the golden ore;
May thy lofty head be crowned
935 With many a tower and terrace round,
And here and there thy banks upon
With groves of myrrh, and cinnamon.
Come Lady while Heaven lends us grace,
Let us fly this cursèd place,
940 Lest the sorcerer us entice
With some other new device.
Not a waste, or needless sound
Till we come to holier ground;
I shall be your faithful guide
945 Through this gloomy covert wide,
And not many furlongs thence
Is your father’s residence,
Where this night are met in state
Many a friend to gratulate
950 His wished presence, and beside
All the swains that there abide,
With jigs, and rural dance resort,
We shall catch them at their sport,
And our sudden coming there
955 Will double all their mirth and cheer;
Come let us haste, the stars grow high,
But Night sits monarch yet in the mid sky.
The scene changes presenting Ludlow Town and the President’s Castle, then come in country dancers, after them the Attendant Spirit, with the two Brothers and the Lady.
Song
Spirit. Back shepherds, back, enough your play,
Till next sunshine holiday,
960 Here be without duck or nod
Other trippings to be trod
Of lighter toes, and such court guise
As Mercury did first devise
With the mincing Dryades
965 On the lawns, and on the leas.
This second song presents them to their father and mother.
Noble Lord, and Lady bright,
I have brought ye new delight,
Here behold so goodly grown
Three fair branches of your own;
970 Heav’n hath timely tried their youth,
Their faith, their patience, and their truth.
And sent them here through hard assays
With a crown of deathless praise,
To triumph in victorious dance
975 O’er sensual folly, and intemperance.
The dances ended, the Spirit epiloguizes.
Spirit. To the Ocean now I fly,
And those happy climes that lie
Where day never shuts his eye,
Up in the broad fields of the sky:
980 There I suck the liquid air
All amidst the gardens fair
Of Hesperus, and his daughters three
That sing about the golden tree:
Along the crispèd shades and bow’rs
985 Revels the spruce and jocund Spring;
The Graces, and the rosy–bosomed Hours,
Thither all their bounties bring,
That there eternal Summer dwells,
And west winds, with musky wing
990 About the cedarn alleys fling
Nard, and cassia’s balmy smells.
Iris there with humid bow,
Waters the odorous banks that blow
Flowers of more mingled hue
995 Than her purfled scarf can show,
And drenches with Elysian dew
(List mortals, if your ears be true)
Beds of hyacinth, and roses
Where young Adonis oft reposes,
1000 Waxing well of his deep wound
In slumber soft, and on the ground
Sadly sits th’ Assyrian queen;
But far above in spangled sheen
Celestial Cupid her famed son advanced,
1005 Holds his dear Psyche sweet entranced
After her wand’ring labours long,
Till free consent the gods among
Make her his eternal bride,
And from her fair unspotted side
1010 Two blissful twins are to be born,
Youth and Joy; so Jove hath sworn.
But now my task is smoothly done,
I can fly, or I can run
Quickly to the green earth’s end,
1015 Where the bowed welkin slow doth bend,
And from thence can soar as soon
To the corners of the moon.
Mortals that would follow me,
Love Virtue, she alone is free,
1020 She can teach ye how to climb
Higher than the sphery chime;
Or if Virtue feeble were,
Heav’n itself would stoop to her.
ENGLISH POEMS ADDED IN 1673
On the Death of a Fair Infant Dying of a Cough Anno aetatis 17
I
O fairest flower no sooner blown but blasted,
Soft silken primrose fading timelessly,
Summer’s chief honour if thou hadst outlasted
Bleak Winter’s force that made thy blossom dry;
5 For he being amorous on that lovely dye
That did thy cheek envermeil, thought to kiss
But killed alas, and then bewailed his fatal bliss.
II
For since grim Aquilo his charioteer
By boist’rous rape th’ Athenian damsel got,
10 He thought it touched his deity full near,
If likewise he some fair one wedded not,
Thereby to wipe away th’ infámous blot
Of long-uncoupled bed, and childless eld,
Which ’mongst the wanton gods a foul reproach was held.
III
15 So mounting up in icy-pearlèd car,
Through middle empire of the freezing air
He wandered long, till thee he spied from far;
There ended was his quest, there ceased his care.
Down he descended from his snow-soft chair,
20 But all unwares with his cold-kind embrace
Unhoused thy virgin soul from her fair biding-place.
IV
Yet art thou not inglorious in thy fate;
For so Apollo, with unweeting hand
Whilom did slay his dearly-lovèd mate
25 Young Hyacinth born on Eurotas’ strand,
Young Hyacinth the pride of Spartan land;
But then transformed him to a purple flower;
Alack that so to change thee Winter had no power.
V
Yet can I not persuade me thou art dead
30 Or that thy corse corrupts in earth’s dark womb,
Or that thy beauties lie in wormy bed,
Hid from the world in a low-delvèd tomb;
Could Heav’n for pity thee so strictly doom?
O no! for something in thy face did shine
35 Above mortality that showed thou wast divine.
VI
Resolve me then O soul most surely blest
(If so it be that thou these plaints dost hear),
Tell me bright spirit where’er thou hoverest,
Whether above that high first-moving sphere
40 Or in the Elysian fields (if such there were),
O say me true if thou wert mortal wight,
And why from us so quickly thou didst take thy flight.
VII
Wert thou some star which from the ruined roof
Of shaked Olympus by mischance didst fall;
45 Which careful Jove in Nature’s true behoof
Took up, and in fit place did reinstall?
Or did of late Earth’s sons besiege the wall
Of sheeny heav’n, and thou some goddess fled
Amongst us here below to hide thy nectared head?
VIII
50 Or wert thou that just maid who once before
Forsook the hated earth, O tell me sooth,
And cam’st again to visit us once more?
Or wert thou [Mercy] that sweet smiling youth?
Or that crowned matron, sage white-robèd Truth?
55 Or any other of that Heav’nly brood
Let down in cloudy throne to do the world some good?
IX
Or wert thou of the golden-wingèd host,
Who having clad thyself in human weed,
To earth from thy prefixèd seat didst post,
60 And after short abode fly back with speed,
As if to show what creatures Heav’n doth breed,
Thereby to set the hearts of men on fire
To scorn the sordid world, and unto Heav’n aspire?
X
But O why didst thou not stay here below
65 To bless us with thy Heav’n-loved innocence,
To slake his wrath whom sin hath made our foe,
To turn swift-rushing black perdition hence,
Or drive away the slaughtering pestilence,
To stand ’twixt us and our deservèd smart?
70 But thou canst best perform that office where thou art.
XI
Then thou the mother of so sweet a child
Her false imagined loss cease to lament,
And wisely learn to curb thy sorrows wild;
Think what a present thou to God hast sent,
75 And render him with patience what he lent;
This if thou do he will an offspring give,
That till the world’s last end shall make thy name to live.
At a Vacation Exercise in the College, part Latin,
part English
Anno aetatis 19
The Latin Speeches ended, the English thus began
Hail native language, that by sinews weak
Didst move my first endeavouring tongue to speak,
And mad’st imperfect words with childish trips,
Half unpronounced, slide through my infant lips,
5 Driving dumb silence from the portal door,
Where he had mutely sat two years before:
Here I salute thee and thy pardon ask,
That now I use thee in my latter task:
Small loss it is that thence can come unto thee,
10 I know my tongue but little grace can do thee.
Thou need’st not be ambitious to be first,
Believe me I have thither packed the worst:
And, if it happen as I did forecast,
The daintiest dishes shall be served up last.
15 I pray thee then deny me not thy aid
For this same small neglect that I have made:
But haste thee straight to do me once a pleasure,
And from thy wardrobe bring thy chiefest treasure;
Not those new-fangled toys, and trimming slight
20 Which takes our late fantastics with delight,
But cull those richest robes, and gay’st attire
Which deepest spirits, and choicest wits desire:
I have some naked thoughts that rove about
And loudly knock to have their passage out;
25 And weary of their place do only stay
Till thou hast decked them in thy best array;
That so they may without suspect or fears
Fly swiftly to this fair assembly’s ears;
Yet I had rather, if I were to choose,
30 Thy service in some graver subject use,
Such as may make thee search thy coffers round,
Before thou clothe my fancy in fit sound:
Such where the deep transported mind may soar
Above the wheeling poles, and at Heav’n’s door
35 Look in, and see each blissful deity
How he before the thunderous throne doth lie,
Listening to what unshorn Apollo sings
To th’ touch of golden wires, while Hebe brings
Immortal nectar to her kingly sire:
40 Then passing through the spheres of watchful fire,
And misty regions of wide air next under,
And hills of snow and lofts of pilèd thunder,
May tell at length how green-eyed Neptune raves,
In Heav’n’s defiance mustering all his waves;
45 Then sing of secret things that came to pass
When beldam Nature in her cradle was;
And last of kings and queens and heroes old,
Such as the wise Demodocus once told
In solemn songs at King Alcinous’ feast,
50 While sad Ulysses’ soul and all the rest
Are held with his melodious harmony
In willing chains and sweet captivity.
But fie my wand’ring Muse how thou dost stray!
Expectance calls thee now another way;
55 Thou know’st it must be now thy only bent
To keep in compass of thy Predicament:
Then quick about thy purposed business come,
That to the next I may resign my room.
Then ENS is represented as father of the Predicaments his ten sons, whereof the eldest stood for SUBSTANCE with his Canons, which ENS thus speaking, explains.
Good luck befriend thee son; for at thy birth
60 The fairy ladies danced upon the hearth;
Thy drowsy nurse hath sworn she did them spy
Come tripping to the room where thou didst lie;
And sweetly singing round about thy bed
Strew all their blessings on thy sleeping head.
65 She heard them give thee this, that thou shouldst still
From eyes of mortals walk invisible,
Yet there is something that doth force my fear,
For once it was my dismal hap to hear
A Sibyl old, bow-bent with crookèd age,
70 That far events full wisely could presage,
And in time’s long and dark prospective glass,
Foresaw what future days should bring to pass;
Your son, said she, (nor can you it prevent)
Shall subject be to many an Accident.
75 ’er all his brethren he shall reign as king,
Yet every one shall make him underling,
And those that cannot live from him asunder
Ungratefully shall strive to keep him under;
In worth and excellence he shall outgo them,
80 Yet being above them, he shall be below them;
From others he shall stand in need of nothing,
Yet on his brothers shall depend for clothing.
To find a foe it shall not be his hap,
And peace shall lull him in her flow’ry lap;
85 Yet shall he live in strife, and at his door
Devouring war shall never cease to roar:
Yea it shall be his natural property
To harbour those that are at enmity.
What power, what force, what mighty spell, if not
90 Your learned hands, can loose this Gordian knot?
The next, QUANTITY and QUALITY, spake in prose, then RELATION was called by his name
Rivers arise; whether thou be the son,
Of utmost Tweed, or Ouse, or gulfy Dun,
Or Trent, who like some Earth-born Giant spreads
His thirty arms along th’ indented meads,
95 Or sullen Mole that runneth underneath,
Or Severn swift, guilty of maiden’s death,
Or rocky Avon, or of sedgy Lea,
Or coaly Tyne, or ancient hallowed Dee,
Or Humber loud that keeps the Scythian’s name,
100 Or Medway smooth, or royal-towered Thame.
The rest was prose
Sonnet XI
A book was writ of late called Tetrachordon;
And woven close, both matter, form and style;
The subject new: it walked the town a while,
Numb’ring good intellects; now seldom pored on.
5 Cries the stall-reader, Bless us! what a word on
A title page is this! and some in file
Stand spelling false, while one might walk to Mile-
End Green. Why is it harder sirs than Gordon,
Colkitto, or Macdonnel, or Galasp?
10 Those rugged names to our like mouths grow sleek
That would have made Quintilian stare and gasp.
Thy age, like ours, O soul of Sir John Cheke,
Hated not learning worse than toad or asp,
When thou taught’st Cambridge and King Edward Greek.
Sonnet XII
On the same
I did but prompt the age to quit their clogs
By the known rules of ancient liberty,
When straight a barbarous noise environs me
Of owls and cuckoos, asses, apes and dogs.
5 As when those hinds that were transformed to frogs
Railed at Latona’s twin-born progeny
Which after held the sun and moon in fee.
But this is got by casting pearl to hogs;
That bawl for freedom in their senseless mood,
10 And still revolt when truth would set them free.
Licence they mean when they cry Liberty;
For who loves that, must first be wise and good;
But from that mark how far they rove we see
For all this waste of wealth, and loss of blood.
Sonnet XIII
To Mr H. Lames, on his Airs
Harry, whose tuneful and well-measured song
First taught our English music how to span
Words with just note and accent, not to scan
With Midas’ ears, committing short and long,
5 Thy worth and skill exempts thee from the throng,
With praise enough for envy to look wan;
To after age thou shalt be writ the man
That with smooth air couldst humour best our tongue.
Thou honour’st verse, and verse must lend her wing
10 To honour thee, the priest of Phoebus’ choir
That tun’st their happiest lines in hymn, or story.
Dante shall give Fame leave to set thee higher
Than his Casella, whom he wooed to sing
Met in the milder shades of Purgatory.
Sonnet XIV
When Faith and Love which parted from thee never,
Had ripened thy just soul to dwell with God,
Meekly thou didst resign this earthy load
Of death, called life; which us from life doth sever.
5 Thy works and alms and all thy good endeavour
Stayed not behind, nor in the grave were trod;
But as Faith pointed with her golden rod,
Followed thee up to joy and bliss for ever.
Love led them on, and Faith who knew them best
10 Thy handmaids, clad them o’er with purple beams
And azure wings, that up they flew so dressed,
And spake the truth of thee on glorious themes
Before the Judge, who thenceforth bid thee rest
And drink thy fill of pure immortal streams.
Sonnet XV
On the Late Massacre in Piedmont
Avenge O Lord thy slaughtered saints, whose bones
Lie scattered on the Alpine mountains cold;
Ev’n them who kept thy truth so pure of old
When all our fathers worshipped stocks and stones,
5 Forget not: in thy book record their groans
Who were thy sheep and in their ancient fold
Slain by the bloody Piedmontese that rolled
Mother with infant down the rocks. Their moans
The vales redoubled to the hills, and they
10 To Heav’n. Their martyred blood and ashes sow
O’er all th’ Italian fields where still doth sway
The triple Tyrant: that from these may grow
A hundredfold, who having learnt thy way
Early may fly the Babylonian woe.
Sonnet XVI
When I consider how my light is spent,
Ere half my days, in this dark world and wide,
And that one talent which is death to hide,
Lodged with me useless, though my soul more bent
5 To serve therewith my Maker, and present
My true account, lest he returning chide,
Doth God exact day labour, light denied,
I fondly ask; but patience to prevent
That murmur, soon replies, God doth not need
10 Either man’s work or his own gifts; who best
Bear his mild yoke, they serve him best; his state
Is kingly. Thousands at his bidding speed
And post o’er land and ocean without rest:
They also serve who only stand and wait.
Sonnet XVII
Lawrence of virtuous father virtuous son,
Now that the fields are dank, and ways are mire,
Where shall we sometimes meet, and by the fire
Help waste a sullen day, what may be won
5 From the hard season gaining? Time will run
On smoother, till Favonius re-inspire
The frozen earth; and clothe in fresh attire
The lily and rose, that neither sowed nor spun.
What neat repast shall feast us, light and choice,
10 Of Attic taste, with wine, whence we may rise
To hear the lute well touched, or artful voice
Warble immortal notes and Tuscan air?
He who of those delights can judge, and spare
To interpose them oft, is not unwise.
Sonnet XVIII
Cyriack, whose grandsire on the Royal Bench
Of British Themis, with no mean applause
Pronounced and in his volumes taught our laws,
Which others at their bar so often wrench;
5 Today deep thoughts resolve with me to drench
In mirth, that after no repenting draws;
Let Euclid rest and Archimedes pause,
And what the Swede intend, and what the French.
To measure life learn thou betimes, and know
10 Toward solid good what leads the nearest way;
For other things mild Heav’n a time ordains,
And disapproves that care, though wise in show,
That with superfluous burden loads the day,
And when God sends a cheerful hour, refrains.
Sonnet XIX
Methought I saw my late espousèd saint
Brought to me like Alcestis from the grave,
Whom Jove’s great son to her glad husband gave,
Rescued from death by force though pale and faint.
5 Mine as whom washed from spot of child-bed taint
Purification in the old Law did save,
And such, as yet once more I trust to have
Full sight of her in Heaven without restraint,
Came vested all in white, pure as her mind:
10 Her face was veiled, yet to my fancied sight,
Love, sweetness, goodness, in her person shined
So clear, as in no face with more delight.
But O as to embrace me she inclined,
I waked, she fled, and day brought back my night.
The Fifth Ode of Horace, Lib.
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