The
Purple
Island. Cantos IV-VI.
Phineas
Fletcher.
Table
of Contents
I
II
III
IV
V
VI
VII
VIII
IX
X
XI
XII
This Renascence
Editions text was transcribed by
Daniel Gustav Anderson, July 2003, and reproduces the 1633 publication
of The Purple Island, with the Piscatory Eclogues and Poeticall
Miscellenie.
It retains the spelling and punctuation of the original, silently
amending
obvious typographical errors such as missing periods at stanza ends.
The
long "s" and the vowel ligatures, also, are silently amended to the
letters
of the conventional keyboard. Any
errors that have crept into the transcription are the fault of the
present
publisher. The text is in the public domain. Content unique to this
presentation
is copyright © 2003 the editor and the University of Oregon. For
nonprofit
and educational uses only.
THe shepherds in the shade their hunger feasted
With simple cates, such as the countrey yeelds;
And while from scorching beams secure they rested,
The Nymphs disperst along the woody fields,
Pull’d from their stalks
the blushing
strawberries,
Which lurk close
shrouded from high-looking eyes;
Shewing that sweetnesse oft both low and hidden
lies.
2
But when the day had his meridian
runne
Between his highest throne, and low declining;
Thirsil again his forced task begunne,
His wonted audience his sides entwining.
The middle Province
next this lower stands,
Where th’ Isles
Heart-city spreads his large
comands,
Leagu’d to the neighbour towns with sure and
friendly bands.
3
Such as that starre, which sets his
glorious chair
In midst of heav’n, and to dead darknesse here
Gives light and life; such is this citie fair:
Their ends, place, office, state, so nearly neare,
That those wise
ancients from their natures sight,
And likenesse, turn’d
their names, and call’d
aright
The sunne the great worlds heart, the heart the
lesse
worlds light.
4
This
middle coast to all the Isle dispends
All heat and life: hence it another Guard
(Beside those common to the first) defends;
Built whole of massie stone, cold, drie, and hard:
Which stretching round
about his circling arms,
Warrants these parts
from all exteriour harms;
Repelling angry force, securing all alar’ms.
5
But in the front two
fair twin-bulwarks rise,
In th’ Arren built for strength, and
ornament;
In Thelu of more use, and larger size;
For hence the young Isle draws his nourishment:
Here lurking Cupid
hides his bended bow;
Here milkie springs in
sugred rivers flow;
Which first gave th’ infant Isle to be, and then
to
grow.
6
For
when the lesser Island (still increasing
In Venus temple) to some greatnesse swells,
Now larger rooms and bigger spaces seizing,
It stops the Hepar rivers; backward reels
The stream, and to
these hills bears up his
flight,
And in these founts (by
some strange hidden might)
Dies his fair rosie waves into a lily white.
7
So where fair Medway, down
the Kentish dales
To many towns her plenteous waters dealing,
Lading her banks, into wide Thamis falls;
The big-grown main with fomie billows swelling,
Stops there the sudding
stream; her steddy race
Staggers awhile, at
length flies back apace,
And to the parent fount returns its fearfull pace.
8
These
two fair mounts are like two hemispheres,
Endow’d with goodly gifts and qualities;
Whose top two little purple hillocks reares,
Most like the poles in heavens Axletrees:
And round about two
circling altars gire,
In blushing red; the
rest in snowy tire
Like Thracian Haemus looks, which
ne’re
feels Phoebus fire.
9
That mighty hand in these dissected wreathes,
(Where moves our Sunne) his thrones fair picture
gives;
The pattern breathlesse, but the picture breathes;
His highest heav’n is dead, our low heav’n lives:
Nor scorns that loftie
one thus low to dwell;
Here his best starres he
sets, and glorious cell;
And fills with saintly spirits, so turns to heav’n
from hell.
10
About this Region round in compasse
stands
A Guard, both for defence, and respiration,
Of
sixtie foure, parted in severall bands;
Half to let out the smokie exhalation,
The other half to draw
in fresher windes:
Beside both these, a
third of both their kindes,
That lets both out, & in; which no enforcement
binds.
11
This third the merrie Diazome
we call,
A border-citie these two coasts removing;
Which like a balk, with his crosse-builded wall,
Disparts the terms of anger, and of loving;
Keeps from th’
Heart-citie fuming kitchin fires,
And to his neighbours
gentle windes inspires;
Loose
when he sucks in aire, contract when he expires.
12
The Diazome of
severall matter’s fram’d:
The first moist, soft; harder the next, and drier:
His fashion like the fish a Raia nam’d;
Fenc’d with two walls, one low, the other higher;
By eight streams
water’d; two from Hepar
low,
And from th’ Heart-town
as many higher go;
But two twice told down from the Cephal
mountain flow.
13
Here
sportfull Laughter dwells, here ever sitting,
Defies all lumpish griefs, and wrinkled care;
And twentie merrie-mates mirth causes fitting,
And smiles, which Laughters sonnes, yet infants
are.
But if this town be
fir’d with burnings nigh,
With selfsame flames
high Cephals towers
fry;
Such is their feeling love, and loving sympathie.
14
This coast stands girt with a peculiar
wall,
The whole precinct, and every part defending:
The
chiefest Citie, and Imperiall,
Is fair Kerdia, farre his bounds extending;
Which full to know were
knowledge infinite:
How then should my rude
pen this wonder write,
Which thou, who onely mad’st it, onely know’st
aright?
15
In middle of this middle Regiment
Kerdia
seated lies, the centre deem’d
Of this whole Isle, and of this government:
If not the chiefest this, yet needfull’st seem’d,
Therefore obtain’d an
equall distant seat,
More fitly hence to shed
his life and heat,
And with his yellow streams the fruitfull Island
wet.
16
Flankt
with two severall walls (for more defence)
Betwixt them ever flows a wheyish moat;
In whose soft waves, and circling profluence
This Citie, like an Isle, might safely float:
In motion still (a
motion fixt, not roving)
Most like to heav’n in
his most constant moving:
Hence most here plant the seat of sure and active
loving.
17
Built of a substance like smooth porphyrie;
His
matter hid, and (like it self) unknown:
Two rivers of his own; another by,
That from the Hepar rises, like a crown,
Infold the narrow part:
for that great All
This his works glory
made pyramicall;
Then crown’d with triple wreath, & cloath’d
in scarlet pall.
18
The Cities self in two partitions
rest;
That on the right, thes on the other side;
The
right (made tributarie to the left)
Brings in his pension at his certain tide,
A pension of liquours
strangely wrought;
Which first by Hepars
streams are thither
brought,
And here distill’d with art, beyond or words or
thought.
19
The
grosser waves of these life-streams (which here
With much, yet much lesse labour is
prepar’d)
A doubtfull chanel doth to Pneumon bear:
But to the left those labour’d extracts shar’d,
As
through a wall, with hidden passage slide;
Where many secret gates
(gates hardly spi’d)
With safe convoy give passage to the other side.
20
At each hand of the left two
streets stand by,
Of severall stuffe, and severall working fram’d,
With hundred crooks, and deep-wrought cavitie:
Both like the eares in form, and so are nam’d.
I’ th’ right hand street
the tribute liquour
sitteth:
The left forc’t aire
into his concave getteth;
Which subtile wrought, & thinne, for future
workmen fitteth.
21
The Cities left
side, (by some hid direction)
Of this thinne aire, and of that right sides rent,
(Compound together) makes a strange confection;
And in one vessel both together meynt,
Stills them with equall
never-quenched firing:
Then in small streams
(through all the Island
wiring)
Sends it to every part, both heat and life
inspiring.
22
In
this Heart-citie four main streams appeare;
One from the Hepar, where the tribute
landeth,
Largely poures out his purple river here;
At whose wide mouth a band of Tritons
standeth,
(Three Tritons
stand) who with their
three-forkt mace
Drive on, and speed the
rivers flowing race,
But strongly stop the wave, if once it back repace.
23
The
second is that doubtfull chanel, lending
Some of this tribute to the Pneumon nigh;
Whose springs by carefull guards are watcht, that
sending
From thence the waters, all regresse
denie:
The
third unlike to this, from Pneumon flowing,
And his due
ayer-tribute here bestowing,
Is kept by gates and barres, which stop all
backward
going.
24
The
last full spring out of this left side rises,
Where three fair Nymphs, like Cynthia’s
self
appearing,
Draw down the stream which all the Isle suffices;
But stop back-waies, some ill revolture fearing.
This river still it
self to lesse dividing,
At length with thousand
little brooks runes
sliding,
His fellow course along with Hepar chanels
guiding.
25
Within
this Citie is the palace fram’d,
Where life, and lifes companion, heat, abideth;
And their attendants, passions untam’d:
(Oft very hell in this strait room resideth)
And did not neighboring
hills, cold aires
inspiring,
Allay their rage and
mutinous conspiring,
Heat all (it self and all) would burn with
quenchlesse firing.
26
Yea that great Light, by whom all
heaven shines
With borrow’d beams, oft leaves his loftie skies,
And to this lowly seat himself confines.
Fall then again, proud heart, now fall to rise:
Cease earth, ah cease,
proud Babel earth,
to
swell:
Heav’n blast high
towers, stoops to a low-rooft
cell;
First heav’n must dwell in man, then man in heav’n
shall dwell.
27
Close to Kerdia Pneumon
takes his seat,
Built of a lighter frame, and spungie mold:
Hence rise fresh aires to fanne Kerdia’s
heat;
Temp’ring those burning fumes with moderate cold:
It self of largest size,
distended wide,
In divers streets and
out-wayes multipli’d:
Yet in one Corporation all are jointly ti’d.
28
Fitly ‘t is cloath’d with
hangings thinne
and light,
Lest too much weight might hinder motion:
His chiefest use to frame the voice aright;
(The voice which publishes each
hidden notion)
And for that end a
long pipe down descends,
(Which here it self in
many lesser spends)
Untill low at the foot of Cephal mount it
ends.
29
This pipe was built for th’ aiers safe purveiance,
To fit each severall voice with perfect sound;
Therefore of divers matter the conveiance
Is finely fram’d; the first in circles round,
In hundred circles
bended, hard and drie,
(For watrie softnesse is
sounds enemie)
Not altogether close, yet meeting very nigh.
30
The seconds drith and hardnesse
somewhat lesse,
But smooth and pliable made for extending,
Fills up the distant circles emptinesse;
All in one bodie joyntly comprehending:
The
last most soft, which where the circles scanted
Not fully met, supplies
what they have wanted,
Not hurting tender parts, which next to this are
planted.
31
Upon
the top there stands the pipes safe covering,
Made for the voices better modulation:
Above it foureteen carefull warders hovering,
Which shut and open it at all occasion:
The cover in foure parts
it self dividing,
Of substance hard, fit
for the voices guiding;
One still unmov’d (in Thelu double oft)
residing.
32
Close
by this pipe runnes that great chanel down,
Which from high Cephals mount twice every
day
Brings to Koilia due provision:
Straight
at whose mouth a floud-gate stops the way,
Made like an Ivie leaf,
broad-angle-fashion;
Of matter hard, fitting
his operation,
For swallowing soon to fall, and rise
for inspiration.
33
But see, the smoak mounting in village nigh,
With folded wreaths steals through the quiet aire;
And mixt with duskie shades in Eastern skie,
Begins the night, and warns us home repair:
Bright Vesper
now hat chang’d his name
and
place,
And twinkles in the
heav’n with doubtfull face:
Home then my full-fed lambes; the night comes,
home
apace.
BY this the old nights head (grown hoary gray)
Foretold that her approaching end was neare;
And gladsome birth of young succeeding day
Lent a new glory to our Hemispheare:
The early swains salute
the infant ray;
Then drove the dammes to
feed, the lambes to play:
And Thirsil with nights death revives his
morning lay.
2
The highest region in this little
Isle
Is both the Islands and Creatours glorie:
Ah then, my creeping Muse, and rugged style,
How dare you pencil out this wondrous storie?
Oh thou that mad’st this
goodly regiment,
So heav’nly fair, of
basest element,
Make this inglorious verse thy glories instrument.
3
So shall my flagging Muse to heav’n aspire,
Where with thy self thy fellow-shepherd sits;
And warm her pineons at that heav’nly fire;
But (ah!) such height no earthly shepherd fits:
Content we here low
sing in this humble vale
On slender reeds to sing
a slender tale.
A little boat will need as little sail and gale.
4
The
third precinct, the best and chief of all,
Though least in compasse, and of narrow space,
Was therefore fram’d like heaven, sphericall,
Of largest figure, and of loveliest grace:
Though shap’d at first
the least of all the three;
Yet highest set in
place, as in degree,
And over all the rest bore rule and soveraigntie.
5
So of three parts fair Europe is the least,
In which this earthly Ball was first divided;
Yet stronger farre, and nobler then the rest,
Where victorie and learned arts resided,
And by the Greek
and Romane
monarchie
Swaid both the rest; now
prest by slaverie
Of Mosco, and the big-swoln Turkish
tyrannie.
6
Here
all the senses dwell, and all the arts;
Here learned Muses by their silver spring:
The Citie
sever’d in two divers parts,
Within the walls, and Suburbs neighbouring;
The Suburbs girt but
with a common fence,
Founded with wondrous
skill, and great expence;
And therefore beautie here keeps her chief
residence.
7
And sure for ornament and buildings rare,
Lovely aspect, and ravishing delight,
Not all the Isle or the world with this compare;
But in the Thelu is the fairer sight:
These Suburbs many call
the Islands face;
Whose charming beautie,
and bewitching grace
Ofttimes the Prince himself enthralls
in fetters base.
8
For as this Isle is a short summarie
Of all that in this All is wide dispread;
So th’ Islands face is th’ Isles Epitomie,
Where ev’n the Princes thoughts are often read:
For when that All
had finisht every kinde,
And all his works would
in lesse volume binde,
Fair on the face he wrote the Index of the minde.
9
Fair are the Suburbs; yet to clearer
sight
The Cities self more fair and excellent:
A thick-grown wood, not pierced with any light,
Yeelds it some fence, and much more ornament:
The divers-colour’d
trees and fresh array
Much grace the town, but
most the Thelu
gay:
Yet all in winter turn to snow, and soon decay.
10
Like to some stately work, whose
queint devices,
And glitt’ring turrets with brave cunning dight,
The gazers eye still more and more entices
Of th’ inner rooms to get a fuller sight;
Whose beautie much more
winnes his ravisht heart,
That now he onely thinks
the outward part
To be a worthie cov’ring of so fair an art.
11
Foure
severall walls, beside the common guard,
For more defence the citie round embrace:
The first thick, soft; the second drie and hard;
As when soft earth before hard stone we place.
The second all the Citie
round enlaces,
And like a rock with
thicker sides embraces;
For here the Prince his court & standing
palace
places.
12
The
other two of matter thinne and light;
And yet the first much harder then the other;
Both cherish all the Citie: therefore right
They call that th’ hard, and this the tender
mother.
The
first with divers crooks and turnings wries,
Cutting the town in
four quaternities;
But both joyn to resist invading enemies.
13
Next these, the buildings yeeld
themselves to sight;
The outward
soft, and pale, like ashes look;
The inward parts more hard, and curdy white:
Their matter both from th’ Isles first matter took;
Nor cold, nor hot: heats
needful sleeps infest,
Cold nummes the workmen:
middle temper’s best;
When kindely warmth speeds work, & cool gives
timely rest.
14
Within
the centre (as a market place)
Two caverns stand, made like the Moon half spent;
Of speciall use, for in their hollow space
All odours to he Judge themselves present:
Here first are born the
spirits animall,
Whose matter, almost
immateriall,
Resembles heavens matter quintessentiall.
15
Hard
by, an hundred nimble workmen stand,
These noble spirits readily preparing;
Lab’ring to make them thinne, and
fit to hand,
With never ended work, and sleeplesse
caring:
Hereby two little
hillocks joyntly rise,
Where sit two Judges
clad in seemly guise,
That cite all odours here, as to their just assise.
16
Next
these, a wall built all of saphires shining,
As fair, more precious; hence it takes his name;
By
which the third cave lies, his sides combining
To th’ other two, and from them hath his frame;
(A
meeting of those former cavities)
Vaulted
by three fair arches safe it lies,
And no oppression fears, or falling tyrannies.
17
By
this third cave the humid citie drains
Base noisome streams the milkie streets annoying;
And through a wide-mouth’d tunnel duely strains,
Unto a bibbing substance down convoying;
Which these foul
dropping humours largely swills,
Till all his swelling
spunge he greedy fills,
And then through other sinks by little soft
distills.
18
Between
this and the fourth cave, lies a vale,
(The fourth, the first in worth, in rank the last)
Where two round hills shit in this pleasant dale,
Through which the spirits thither safe are past;
Those
here refin’d their full perfection have;
And therefore close by
this fourth wondrous cave
Rises that silver well, scatt’ring his milkie wave.
19
Not that bright spring, where fair Hermaphrodite
Grew into one with wanton Salmacis,
Nor that where Biblis dropt, too fondly
light,
Her tears and self, may dear compare with this;
Which
here beginning down a lake descends,
Whose rockie chanel
these fair streams defends,
Till it the precious wave through all
the Isle dispends.
20
Many
fair rivers take their heads from either,
(Both from the lake, and from the milkie well)
Which still in loving chanels runne together,
Each to his mate a neighbor parallel:
Thus widely spread with
friendly combination,
They fling about their
wondrous operation,
And give to every part both motion and sensation.
21
This
silver lake, first from th’ Head-citie springing,
To that bright fount foure little chanels sends;
Through which it thither plenteous water bringing,
Straight all again to every place dispends:
Such is th’ Head-citie,
such the Princes Hall;
Such, and much more,
which strangely liberall,
Though sense it never had, yet gives all sense to
all.
22
Of other stuffe the Suburbs have their framing;
May seem soft marble, spotted red and white:
First
stands an Arch, pale Cynthia’s brightnes shaming,
The Cities forefront, cast in silver bright:
At whose proud base are
built two watching towers,
Whence hate and love
skirmish with equall powers;
Whence smiling gladnesse shines, and sullen sorrow
showers.
23
Here
sits retir’d the silent reverence;
And when the Prince, incens’d with angers fire,
Thunders aloud, he darts his lightning hence;
Here dusky-reddish clouds foretell his ire:
Of nothing can this Isle
more boast aright:
A twin-born Sunne, a
double seeing light;
With much delight they see, are seen with much
delight.
24
That Thracian
shepherd call’d them Natures glasse;
Yet then a glass in this much worthier being:
Blinde glasses represent some neare-set face;
But this a living glasse, both seen and seeing:
Like
heav’n in moving, like in heav’nly firing;
Sweet heat and light, no
burning flame inspiring:
Yet (ah!) too oft we find they scorch with hot
desiring.
25
They mounted high, sit on a loftie hill;
(For they the Princes best intelligence,
And quickly warn of future good, or ill)
Here stands the palace of the noblest sense;
Here Visus
keeps, whose Court then
crystal
smoother,
And clearer seems; he,
though a younger brother,
Yet farre more noble
is, farre fairer then the other.
26
Six
bands are set to stirre the moving tower:
The first the proud band call’d, that lifts it
higher;
The next the humble band, that shoves it lower;
The bibbing third draws it together nigher;
The fourth disdainfull,
oft away is moving:
The other two, helping
the compasse roving,
Are call’d the circling trains, & wanton bands
of loving.
27
Above,
two compasse groves, (Loves bended bows)
Which fence the towers from flouds of higher place:
Before,
a wall, deluding rushing foes,
That shuts and opens in a moments space:
The low part fixt, the
higher quick descending;
Upon whose tops spearmen
their pikes intending,
Watch there both night and day, the castles port
defending.
28
Three
divers lakes within these bulwarks lie,
The noblest parts and instruments of sight:
The first, receiving forms of bodies nigh,
Conveys them to the next, and breaks the light,
Danting his rash and
forcible invasion;
And with a clear and
whitish inundation,
Restrains the nimble spirits from their too quick
evasion.
29
In
midst of both is plac’t the Crystall pond;
Whose living water thick, and brightly shining,
Like Saphires, or the sparkling Diamond,
His inward beams with outward light combining,
Alt’ring it self to
every shapes aspect,
The divers forms doth
further still direct,
Till by the nimble past th’ are brought to th’
Intellect.
30
The
third, like molten glasse, all cleare and white:
Both round embrace the noble Crystalline.
Six
inward walls fence in this Tower of sight:
The first, most thick, doth all the frame inshrine,
And girts the Castle
with a close embrace,
Save in the midst is
left a circles space,
Where light and hundred shapes flock out & in
apace.
31
The
second not so massie as the other,
Yet thicker then the rest, and tougher fram’d,
Takes his beginning from that harder mother:
The outward part like horn, and thence is nam’d;
Through whose
translucent sides much light is born
Into the Tower, and much
kept out by th’horn,
Makes it a pleasant light, much like the ruddie
morn.
32
The
third, of softer mold, is like a grape,
Which all entwines with his encircling side:
In midst a window lets in every shape;
Which with a thought is narrow made, or wide:
His inmost side more
black then starrelesse night;
But outward part (how
like an hypocrite!)
As painted Iris looks, with various
colours
dight.
33
The
fourth of finest work, more slight, and thinne,
Then or Arachne, (which in
silken twine
With Pallas strove) or Pallas self
could spinne:
This round enwraps the fountain Crystalline.
The
next is made out of that milkie spring,
That from the Cephal
mount his waves doth
fling,
Like to a curious net his substance scattering.
34
His substance as the Head-spring, perfect white;
Here thousand nimble spies are round dispread:
The forms caught in this net, are brought to sight,
And to his eye are lively pourtrayed.
The
last the glassie wall (that round encasing
The moat of glasse, is
nam’d from that enlacing)
The white & glassy wells parts with his strict
embracing.
35
Thus then is fram’d the noble Visus bower;
The outward light by th’ first walls circle sending
His beams and hundred forms into the tower,
The wall of horn, and that black gate transcending,
Is lightned by the
brightest Crystalline,
And fully view’d in that
white nettie shine,
From thence with speedy haste is poasted to the
minde.
36
Much as an one-ey’d room, hung all with night,
(Onely that side, which adverse to his eye
Gives but one narrow passage to the light,
Is spread with some white shining tapestrie)
An hundred shapes that
through flit ayers stray,
Shove boldly in,
crouding that narrow way,
And on that bright-fac’d wall obscurely dancing
play.
37
Two
pair of rivers from the Head-spring flow
To these two Towers: the first in their mid-race
(The spies conveying) twisted joyntly go,
Strength’ning each other with a firm embrace.
The
other pair these walking Towers are moving;
At first but one, then
in two chanels roving:
And therefore both agree in standing, or removing.
38
Auditus,
second of the Pemptarchie,
Is next, not all so noble as his brother;
Yet of more need, and more commoditie:
His seat is plac’d somewhat below the other:
Of each side of the
mount a double cave;
Both which a goodly
Portall doth embrave,
And winding entrance, like Maeanders
erring
wave.
39
The
Portall hard and drie, all hung around
With silken, thinne, carnation tapestrie:
Whose open gate drags in each voice and sound,
That through the shaken ayer passes by:
The entrance winding;
lest some violence
Might fright the Judge
with sudden influence,
Or some unwelcome guest might vex the busie sense.
40
This
caves first part fram’d with a steep ascent
(For in foure parts ‘tis fitly severed)
Makes th’ entrance hard, but easie the descent:
Where stands a braced drumme, whose sounding head
(Obliquely plac’d)
stook by the circling aire,
Gives instant warning of
each sounds repair,
Which soon is thence convey’d unto the Judgement
chair.
41
The
drumme is made of substance hard and thinne;
Which if some falling moisture chance to wet,
The loudest sound is hardly heard within:
But if it once grows thick, with stubborn let
It barres all passage
to the inner room;
No sounding voice unto
his seat may come:
The lazie sense still sleeps, unsummon’d with his
drum.
42
This
drumme divides the first and second part,
In which three hearing instruments reside;
Three instruments compact by wondrous art,
With slender string knit to th’ drummes inner side:
Their native temper
being hard and drie,
Fitting the sound with
their firm qualitie,
Continue still the same in age and infancie.
43
The
first an Hammer call’d, whose out-grown sides
Lie on the drumme; but with his swelling end
Fixt on the hollow Stithe, there fast abides:
The Stithes short foot doth on the drumme depend,
His longer in the
Stirrup surely plac’t;
The Stirrups sharp side
by the Stithe embrac’t,
But his broad base ti’d to a little window fast.
44
Two
little windows ever open lie,
The sound unto the caves third part convaying;
And slender pipe, whose narrow cavitie
Doth purge the in-born aire, that idle staying
Would els corrupt, and
still supplies the
spending:
The caves third part in
twentie by-wayes bending,
Is call’d the Labyrinth, in hundred crooks
ascending.
45
Such whilome was that eye-deceiving frame,
Which crafty Daedal with a cunning hand
Built to empound the Cretan Princes shame:
Such was that Woodstock cave, where Rosamand,
Fair Rosamand,
fled jealous Ellenore;
Whom late a shepherd
taught to weep so sore,
That woods and hardest rocks her harder fate
deplore.
46
The third part with his narrow
rockie straits
Perfects the sound, and gives more sharp accenting;
Then sends it to the fourth;
where ready waits
A nimble poast, who ne’re his haste relenting,
Flings to the
judgement-seat with speedy flight:
There th’ equall Judge
attending day and night,
Receives the entring sounds, & dooms each
voice
aright.
47
As when a stone, troubling the quiet waters,
Prints in the angry stream a wrinkle round,
Which soon another and another scatters,
Till all the lake with circles now is crown’d:
All so the aire struck
with some violence nigh,
Begets a world of
circles in the skie;
All which infected move with sounding qualitie.
48
These at Auditus palace soon arriving,
Enter the gate, and strike the warning drumme;
To those three instruments fit motion giving,
Which every voice discern: then that third room
Sharpens each sound,
and quick conveys it thence;
Till by the flying poast
‘tis hurri’d hence,
And in an instant brought unto the judging sense.
49
This sense is made the Master of request,
Prefers petitions to the Princes eare;
Admits what best he likes, shuts out the rest;
And sometimes cannot, sometimes will not heare:
Ofttimes he lets in
anger-stirring lies,
Oft melts the Prince
with oylie flatteries.
Ill mought he thrive, that loves his Masters
enemies!
50
‘Twixt Visus double court a Tower stands,
Plac’t in the Suburbs centre; whose high top,
And loftie raised ridge the rest commands:
Low at his foot a double doore stands ope,
Admitting passage to the
aires ascending;
And divers odours to the
Citie sending,
Revives the heavie town, his liberall sweets
dispending.
51
This vaulted Tower’s half built of massie stone,
The other half of stuffe lesse hard and drie,
Fit for distending, or compression:
The outward wall may seem all porphyrie.
Olfactus
dwells within this lofty fort;
But in the citie is his
chief resort,
Where ‘twixt two little hils he keeps his judging
court.
52
By two great caves are plac’t these little
hills,
Most like the nipples of a virgins breast;
By which the aire that th’ hollow Tower fills,
Into the Citie passeth: with the rest
The odours pressing in
are here all staid;
Till by the sense
impartially weigh’d,
Unto the common Judge they are with speed conveyd.
53
At each side of that Tower stand two fair plains,
More fair then that which in rich Thessalie
Was once frequented by the Muses trains:
Here ever sits sweet-blushing Modestie;
Here in two colours
Beautie shining bright,
Dressing her white with
red, her red with white,
With pleasing chain enthralls, & binds her
loose
wandering sight.
54
Below, a cave rooft with an heav’n-like
plaister,
And under strew’d with purple tapestrie,
Where Gustus dwells, the Isles and Princes
Taster,
Koilia’s Steward, one of th’ Pemptarchie;
Whom
Tactus (so some say) got of his mother:
For by their nearest
likeness one to th’ other,
Tactus may eas’ly seem his father, and his
brother.
55
Tactus
the last, but yet the eldest brother;
(Whose office meanest, yet of all the race
The first and last, more needful then the other)
Hath his abode in none, yet every place:
Through all the Isle
distended is his dwelling;
He rules the streams
that
from the Cephal swelling
Runne all along the Isle, both sence & motion
dealing.
56
With Gustus Lingua dwells, his pratling
wife,
Indu’d with strange and adverse qualities;
The nurse of hate and love, of peace and strife,
Mother of fairest truth, and foulest lies:
Or best, or worst; no
mean: made all of fire,
Which sometimes hell,
& sometimes heav’ns
inspire;
By whom oft Truth self speaks, oft
that first murth’ring liar.
57
The idle Sunne stood at her command,
Breathing his firie steeds in Gibeon:
And pale-fac’d Cynthia at her word made
stand,
Resting her coach in the vales of Aialon.
Her voice oft open
breaks the stubborn skies,
And holds th’ Almighties
hands
with suppliant cries:
Her voice tears open hell with horrid blasphemies.
58
Therefore that great Creatour, well
foreseeing
To what a monster she would soon be changing,
(Though lovely once, perfect and glorious being)
Curb’d her with iron bit,
and held from ranging;
And with strong bonds
her looser steps enchaining,
Bridled her course, too
many words refraining,
And doubled all his guards, bold libertie
restraining.
59
For
close within he sets twice sixteen guarders,
Whose hardned temper could not soon be mov’d:
Without the gate he plac’d two other warders,
To shut and ope the doore, as it behov’d:
But such strange force
hat her enchanting art,
That she hath made her
keepers of her part,
And they to all her slights all furtherance impart.
60
Thus (with their help) by her the
sacred Muses
Refresh the Prince dull’d with much businesse;
By her the Prince unto his Prince oft uses
In Heav’nly throne from hell to find accesse.
She heav’n to earth in
music often brings,
And earth to heaven: but
oh how sweet she sings,
When in rich graces key she tunes poor natures
strings!
61
Thus Orpheus wanne his lost Eurydice;
Whom some deaf snake, that could no musick heare,
Or some blinde neut, that could no beautie see,
Thinking to kisse, kill’d with his forked spear:
He, when his plaints on
earth were vainly spent,
Down to Avernus
river boldly went,
And charm’d the meager ghosts with
mournfull blandishment.
62
There what his mother, fair Calliope,
From Phoebus harp and Muses spring had
brought
him,
What sharpest grief for his Eurydice,
And love redoubling grief had newly taught him,
He lavisht out, and with
his potent spell
Bent all the rigorous
powers of stubborn hell:
He first brought pitie down with rigid ghosts to
dwell.
63
Th’ amazed shades came flocking round about,
Nor car’d they now to pass the Stygian
ford:
All hell came running there, (an hideous rout)
And dropt a silent tear for every word:
The aged Ferrieman
shov’d out his boat;
But that without his
help did thither float;
And having ta’ne him in, came dancing on the moat.
64
The hungry Tantal might have fill’d him
now,
And with large draughts swill’d in the standing
pool:
The fruit hung listning on the wondring bough,
Forgetting hells command; but he (ah fool!)
Forgot his starved
taste, his eares to fill.
Ixions turning
wheel unmov’d stood still;
But he was rapt as much with powerfull musicks
skill.
65
Tir’d Sisyphus sat on his resting stone,
And hop’d at length his labour done for ever:
The vulture feeding on his pleasing mone,
Glutted with music, scorn’d grown Tityus
liver:
The Furies flung their
snakie whips away,
And molt in tears at his
enchanting lay,
No shrieches now were heard; all hell kept
holy-day.
66
That treble Dog, whose voice ne’re
quiet fears
All that in endlesse nights sad kingdome dwell,
Stood pricking up his thrice two listning eares,
With greedy joy drinking the sacred spell;
And softly whining,
piti’d much his wrongs;
And now first silent at
those dainty songs,
Oft wisht himself more ears, & fewer mouths
&
tongues.
67
At length return’d with his Eurydice,
But with this law, not to return his eyes,
Till he was past the laws of Tartarie;
(Alas! Who gives love laws in miseries?
Love is love’s law; love
but to love is ti’d)
Now when the dawns of
neighbour day he spi’d,
Ah wretch! Eurydice he saw, and lost, and
di’d.
68
All so who strives from grave of
hellish night
To bring his dead soul to the joyfull skie;
If when he comes in view of heav’nly light,
He turns again to hell his yeelding eye,
And longs to see what he
had left; his sore
Grows desp’rate, deeper,
deadlier then afore:
His helps and hopes much lesse, his crime &
judgement more.
69
But why do I enlarge my tedious song,
And tire my flagging Muse with wearie flight?
Ah! much I fear I hold you much too long.
The outward parts be plain to every sight:
But to describe the
people of this Isle,
And that great Prince,
these reeds are all too
vile:
Some higher verse may fit, and some more lofty
style.
70
See, Phlegon drenched in the hizzing main,
Allayes his thirst, and cools the flaming carre;
Vesper fair Cynthia ushers, and her
train:
See, th’ apish earth hath lighted many a starre,
Sparkling in dewie
globes: all home invite:
Home then my flocks,
home shepherds, home; ‘tis
night:
My song with day is done; my Muse is set with
light.
71
By this the gentle boyes had framed
well
A myrtle garland mixt with conqu’ring bay,
From whose fit match issu’d a pleasing smell,
And all enamel’d it with roses gay;
With which they crown
their honour’d Thirsils
head:
Ah blessed
shepherd-swain! ah happy meed!
While all his fellows chaunt on slender pipes of
reed.
CANT.
VI.
THe houres had unlockt the gate of day,
When fair Aurora leaves her frosty bed,
Hasting with youthfull Cephalus to play,
Unmaskt her face, and rosie beauties spread:
Tithonus silver
age was much despis’d.
Ah! who in love that
cruel law devis’d,
That old love’s little worth, and new too highly
priz’d?
2
The gentle shepherds on an hillock plac’d,
(Whose shadie head a beechie garland crown’d)
View’d all their flocks that on the pastures
graz’d:
Then down they sit, while Thenot ‘gins the
round;
Thenot! was never
fairer boy among
The gentle lads, that in the Muses
throng
By Chamus yellow streams learn tune their
pipe
& song.
3
See, Thirsil, see the shepherds
expectation;
Why then, (ah!) why sitt’st thou so silent there?
We long to know that Islands happy nation:
Oh! do not leave thy Isle unpeopled here.
Tell us who brought, and
whence these colonies;
Who is their king, what
foes, and what allies;
What laws maintain their peace, what warres &
victories.
4
Thenot, my deare, that simple fisher-swain,
Whose little boat in some small river strayes;
Yet fondly lanches in the swelling main,
Soon, yet too late, repents his foolish playes.
How dare I then forsake
my well-set bounds,
Whose new-cut pipe as
yet but harshly sounds?
A narrow compasse best my ungrown Muse impounds.
5
Two shepherds most I love with just adoring;
That Mantuan swain, who chang’d his
slender
reed
To trumpets martiall voice, and warres loud
roaring,
From Corydon to Turnus
derring-deed;
And next our home-bred Colins
sweetest
firing;
Their steps not
following close, but farre
admiring:
To lackey one of these is all my prides aspiring.
6
Then you my peers, whose quiet
expectation
Seemeth my backward tale would fain invite;
Deigne gently heare this purple Islands nation,
A people never seen, yet still in sight;
Our daily guests, and
natives, yet unknown;
Our servants born, but
now commanders grown;
Our friends, and enemies; aliens, yet still our
own.
7
Not like those Heroes, who in better
times
This happy Island first inhabited
In joy and peace; when no rebellious crimes
That God-like nation yet dispeop’led:
Those claim’d their
birth from that eternal Light,
Held th’ Isle, and rul’d
it in their fathers
right,
And in their faces bore their parents image bright.
8
For when that Isle that main would fond forsake,
In which at first it found a happy place,
And deep was plung’d in that dead hellish lake;
Back to their father flew this heav’nly race,
And left the Isle
forlorn, and desolate,
That now with fear, and
wishes all too late,
Sought in that blackest wave to hide his blacker
fate.
9
How shall a worm, on dust that crawls
and feeds,
Climbe to th’ empyreall court, where these states
reign,
And there take view of what heav’ns self exceeds?
The Sunne lesse starres, these lights the Sunne
distain:
Their beams divine, and
beauties do excel
What here on earth, in
aire, or heav’n do dwell:
Such never eye yet saw, such never tongue can tell.
10
Soon as these Saints the treach’rous Isle forsook,
Rusht in a false, foul, fiend-like companie,
And every fort, and every castle took;
All to this rabble yeeld the soveraigntie:
The goodly temples which
those Heroes plac’t,
By this foul rout were
utterly defac’t,
And all their fences strong, and all their
bulwarks
raz’d.
11
So where the neatest Badger most abides,
Deep in the earth she frames her prettie cell,
And into halls and closulets divides:
But when the stinking fox with loathsome smell
Infects her pleasant
cave, the cleanly beast
So hates her inmate and
rank-smelling guest,
That farre away she flies, and leaves her loathed
nest.
12
But when those Graces (at their
fathers throne
Arriv’d) in heav’ns high Court to Justice
plain’d,
How they were wrong’d, and forced from their own,
And what foul people in their dwellings reign’d;
How th’ earth much waxt
in ill, much wan’d in
good,
So full-ripe vice, how
blasted virtues bud,
Begging such vicious weeds might sink in vengefull
floud:
13
Forth stept the just Dicaea, full of rage;
(The first-born daughter of th’ Almighty King)
Ah sacred maid, thy kindled ire asswage;
Who dare abide thy dreadfull thundering?
Soon as her voice but Father onely
spake,
The faultlesse heav’ns,
like leaves in Autumne,
shake;
And all that glorious throng with horrid palsies
quake.
14
Heard you not late,
with what loud trumpet sound
Her breath awak’d her fathers sleeping ire?
The heav’nly armies flam’d, earth shook, heav’n
frown’d,
And heav’ns dread King call’d for his three-forkt
fire.
Heark now how the
powerfull words strike through
the
eare;
The frighted sense
shoots up the staring hair,
And shakes the trembling soul with fright &
shudd’ring fear.
15
So have I seen the earth strong
windes detaining
In prison close; they scorning to be under
Her dull subjection, and her power disdaining,
With horrid struglings tear their bonds in sunder:
Mean while the wounded
earth, that forc’d their
stay,
With terrour reels, the
hils runne farre away;
And frighted world fears hell breaks out upon the
day.
16
But see how ‘twixt her sister and her sire,
Soft-hearted Mercy sweetly interposing,
Settles her panting brest against his fire,
Pleading for grace, and chains of death unlosing:
Heark, from her lips the
melting hony flowes;
The striking Thunderer
recals his blowes,
And every armed souldier down his weapon throwes.
17
So when the day, wrapt in a cloudie night,
Puts out the Sunne, anon the rattling hail
On earth poures down his shot with fell despight:
His powder spent, the Sunne puts off his vail,
And fair his flaming
beauties now unsteeps;
The plough-man from his
bushes gladly peeps,
And hidded traveller out of his covert creeps.
18
Ah fairest maid, best essence of thy father,
Equall unto thy never equall’d sire;
How in low verse shall thy poore shepherd gather,
What all the world can ne’re enough admire?
When thy sweet eyes
sparkle in chearfull light,
The brightest day grows
pale as leaden night,
And heav’ns bright burning eye loses his blinded
sight.
19
Who then those sugred strains can understand,
Which calm’d thy father, and our desp’rate fears;
And charm’d the nimble lightning in his hand,
That all unwares it dropt in melting tears?
Then thou deare swain,
thy heav’nly load unfraught;
For she her self hath
thee her speeches taught;
So neare her heav’n they be, so farre from humane
thought.
20
But let my lighter skiffe return
again
Unto that little Isle which late it left,
Nor dare to enter in that boundlesse main,
Or tell the nation from this Island reft;
But sing that civil
strife, and home dissension,
‘Twixt two strong
factions with like fierce
contention;
Where never peace is heard, nor ever peaces
mention.
21
For that foul rout, which from the Stygian
brook
(Where first they dwelt in midst of death and
night)
By force the left and emptie Island took,
Claim hence full conquest, and possessions right:
But that fair band,
which Mercie sent anew,
The ashes of that first
heroick crue,
From their forefathers claim their right, &
Islands due.
22
In their fair look their parents grace appears,
Yet their renowned sires were much more glorious;
For what decaies not with decaying yeares?
All night, and all the day, with toil laborious,
(In losse and conquest
angrie) fresh they fight:
Nor can the other cease
or day or night,
While th’ Isle is doubly rent with endlesse warre
and fright.
23
As when the Britain and Iberian
fleet
With resolute and fearlesse
expectation
On trembling seas with equall fury meet,
The shore resounds with diverse acclamation;
Till now at length Spains
firie Dons
‘gin shrink:
Down with their ships,
hope, life, and courage
sink:
Courage, life, hope, and ships the gaping surges
drink.
24
But who (alas!) shall teach my ruder
breast
The names and deeds of these heroick Kings?
Or downy Muse, which now but left the nest,
Mount from her bush to heav’n with new-born wings?
Thou sacred maid, which
from fair Palestine
Through all the world
hast spread thy brightest
shine
Kindle thy shepherd-swain with thy light flaming
eyn.
25
Sacred Thespio, which in Sinaies
grove
First took’st thy off-spring from the highest Jove,
Yet deign’dst to dwell with mortalls here beneath,
With vilest earth, and
men more vile residing;
Come holy Virgin in my
bosom sliding,
With thy glad Angel light my blindfold footsteps
guiding.
26
And thou dread Spirit, which at
first didst spread
On those dark waters thy all-opening light;
Thou who of late (of thy great bounty head)
This nest of hellish fogges and Stygian
night
With thy bright orient
Sunne hast fair renew’d
And with unwonted day
hast it endu’d,
Which late both day & thee, and most it self
eschew’d:
27
Dread Spirit, do thou those severall
bands unfold,
Both which thou sent’st a needfull supplement
To this lost Isle, and which with courage bold
Hourely assail thy rightfull regiment;
And now with strong hand
oppresse & keep them
under:
Raise now my humble vein
to lofty thunder,
That heav’n and earth may sound, resound thy
praises wonder.
28
The Islands Prince, of frame more
then celestiall,
Is rightly call’d th’ all-seeing Intellect;
All glorious bright, such nothing is terrestriall;
Whose Sun-like face, and most divine aspect
No humane sight may ever
hope descrie:
For when himself on’s
self reflects his eye,
Dull or amaz’d he stands at so bright majestie.
29
Look as the Sunne, whose ray and
searching light
Here, there, and every where it self displayes,
No nook or corner flies his piercing sight;
Yet on himself when he reflects his rayes,
Soon back he flings the
too bold vent’ring gleam;
Down to the earth the
flames all broken stream:
Such is this famous Prince, such his unpierced
beam.
30
His strangest body is not bodily,
But matter without matter; never fill’d,
Nor filling; though within his compasse high
All heav’n and earth, and all in both are held;
Yet thousand thousand
heav’ns he could contain,
And still as empty as at
first remain;
And when he takes in most, readi’st to take again.
31
Though travelling all places,
changing none
Bid him soar up to heav’n, and thence down throwing
The centre search, and Dis dark realm;
he’s
gone,
Returns, arrives, before thou saw’st him going:
And while his weary
kingdome safely sleeps,
All restlesse night he
watch and warding keeps,
Never his carefull head on resting pillow steeps.
32
In every quarter of this blessed
Isle
Himself both present is, and President;
Nor once retires, (ah happy realm the while,
That by no Officers lewd lavishment,
With greedie lust, and
wrong consumed art!)
He all in all, and all
in every part,
Does share to each his due, and equall dole impart.
33
He knows nor death, nor yeares, nor feeble age;
But as his time, his strength and vigour grows:
And when his kingdome by intestine rage
Lies broke and wasted, open to his foes,
And batter’d sconce now
flat and even lies;
Sooner then thought to
that great Judge he flies,
Who weighs him just reward of good, or injuries.
34
For he the Judges Viceroy here is
plac’t;
Where if he live, as knowing he may die,
He never dies, but with fresh pleasures grac’t,
Bathes his crown’d head in soft eternitie;
Where thousand joyes,
and pleasures ever new,
And blessings thicker
then the morning dew,
With endlesse sweets rain down on that immortall
crue.
35
There golden starres set in the crystal snow;
There daintie joyes laugh at white-headed caring:
There day no night, delight no end shall know;
Sweets without surfet, fulnesse without sparing,
And by its spending
growing happinesse:
There God himself in
glories lavishnesse
Diffus’d in all, to all, is all full blesednesse.
36
But if he here neglect his Masters law,
And with those traitours ‘gainst his Lord rebells;
Down to the deeps ten thousand fiends him draw,
Deeps, where night, death, despair, and horrour
dwells;
And in worst ills, still
worse expecting fears:
Where fell despite for
spite his bowels tears,
And still increasing grief, and torment never
wears.
37
Prayers there are idle, death is woo’d in vain;
In midst of death poore wretches long to die:
Night without day or rest, still doubling pain;
Woes spending still, yet still their end lesse
nigh:
The soul there
restlesse, helplesse, hopelesse
lies;
The body frying roars,
and roaring fries:
There’s life that never lives, there’s death that
never dies.
38
Hence while unsettled here he fighting reignes,
Shut in a Tower where thousand enemies
Assault the fort, with wary care and pains
He guards all entrance, and by divers spies
Searches into his foes
and friends designes:
For most he fears his
subjects wavering mindes.
This Tower then onely falls, when treason
undermines.
39
Therefore while yet he lurks in earthly tent,
Disguis’d in worthlesse robes and poore attire,
Trie we to view his glories wonderment,
And get a sight of what we so admire:
For when away from this
sad place he flies,
And in the skies abides,
more bright then skies,
Too glorious is his sight for our dimme mortall
eyes.
40
So curl’d-head Thetis, waters feared Queen,
But bound in cauls of sand, yields not to sight;
And planets glorious King may best be seen,
When some thinne cloud dimmes his too piercing
light,
And neither none, nor
all his face discloses:
For when his bright eye
full our eye opposes,
None gains his glorious sight, but his own sight
he
loses.
41
Within the Castle sit eight Counsellers,
That help him in this tent to govern well:
Each in his room a severall office bears;
Three of his inmost private counsell deal
In great affairs: five
of lesse dignitie
Have outward Courts, and
in all actions prie,
But still referre the doom to Courts more fit and
high.
42
Those five
fair brethren which I sung of late,
For their just number call’d the Pemptarchie;
The other three, three pillars of the state:
The first
in midst of that high Tower doth lie,
(The
chiefest mansion of this glorious King)
The judge and Arbiter of
every thing,
Which those five brethrens poasts in to his office
bring.
43
Of middle yeares, and seemly personage,
Father of the laws, the rule of wrong and right;
Fountain of judgement, therefore wondrous sage,
Discreet, and wise, of quick and nimble sight:
Not those seven Sages
might him parrallel,
Nor he whom Pythian
Maid did whilome tell
To be the wisest man that then on earth did dwell.
44
As Neptunes cestern sucks in
tribute tides
(Yet never full) which every chanel brings,
And thirstie drinks, and drinking thirstie bides;
For by some hidden way back to the springs
It sends the streams in
erring conduits spread,
Which with a circling
dutie still are led;
So ever feeding them, is by them ever fed:
45
Ev’n so the first of these three
Counsellers
Gives to the five the power of all-descrying;
Which back to him with mutuall dutie bears
All their informings, and the causes trying:
For through strait
waies the nimble Poast ascends
Unto his hall; there up
his message sends,
Which to the next well scann’d he straightway
recommends.
46
The next
that in the Castles front is plac’t,
Phantastes hight; his yeares are fresh and
green,
His visage old, his face too much defac’t
With ashes pale, his eyes deep sunken been
With often thoughts, and
never slackt intention:
Yet he the fount of
speedy apprehension,
Father of wit, the well of arts, and quick
invention.
47
But in his private thoughts and busy
brain
Thousand thinne forms, and idle fancies flit;
The three-shap’t Sphinx, and direfull Harpyes
train,
Which in the world had never being yet:
Oft dreams of fire and
water, loose delight;
And oft arrested by some
ghastly sprite,
Nor can he think, nor speak, nor move for great
affright.
48
Phantastes from the first all shapes
deriving,
In new abiliments can quickly dight;
Of all materiall and grosse parts depriving,
Fits them unto the noble Princes sight;
Which soon as he hath
view’d with searching eye,
He straight commits them
to his Treasurie,
Which old Eumnestes keeps, Father of
memorie.
49
Eumnestes old, who in his
living screen
(His mindefull breast) the rolls and records bears
Of all the deeds, and men, which he hath seen,
And keeps lockt up in faithfull Registers:
Well he recalls Nimrods
first tyrannie,
And Babels pride
daring the loftie skie;
Well he recalls the earths twice-growing infancie.
50
Therefore his body weak, his eyes half blinde,
But minde more fresh, and strong; (ah better fate!)
And as his carcase, so his house declin’d;
Yet were the walls of firm and able state:
Onely on him a nimble
Page attends,
Who when for ought the
aged Grandsire sends,
With swift, yet backward steps, his helping
aidance
lends.
51
But let my song passe from these
worthy Sages
Unto this Islands highest Soveraigne,
And those hard warres which all the yeare he wages:
For these three late a gentle shepherd-swain
Most sweetly sung, as he
before had seen
In Alma’s house:
his memorie yet green
Lives in his well-tun’d songs, whose leaves
immortall been.
52
Nor can I guesse, whether his Muse
divine
Or gives to those, or takes from them his grace;
Therefore Eumnestes in his lasting shrine
Hath justly him enroll’d in second place:
Next to our Mantuan
poet doth he rest;
There shall our Colin
live for ever blest,
Spite of those thousand spites, which living him
opprest.
53
The Prince his time in double office
spends:
For first those forms and fancies he admits,
Which to his court busie Phantastes sends,
And for the easier discerning fits:
For shedding round about
his
sparkling light,
He cleares their duskie
shades, and cloudy night,
Producing like himself their shapes all shining
bright.
54
As when the Sunne restores the glitt’ring day,
The world late cloath’d in nights black livery,
Doth now a thousand colours fair display,
And paints it self in choice varietie,
Which late one colour
hid, the eye deceiving;
All so this Prince those
shapes obscure receiving,
With his suffused light makes ready to conceiving.
55
The first is call’d the Active Facultie,
Which to an higher power the object leaves:
That takes it in it self, and cunningly
Changing it self, the object soon perceives:
For straight it self in
self same shape adorning,
Becomes the same with
quick & strange
transforming;
So is all things it self, to all it self
conforming.
56
Thus when the eye through Visus
jettie ports
Lets in the wandring shapes, the crystall strange
Quickly it self to every sort consorts,
So is what e’re it sees by wondrous change:
Thrice happy then, when
on that mirrour
bright
He ever fastens his
unmoved sight,
So is what there he views; divine, full, glorious
light.
57
Soon as the Prince these forms hath
clearely seen,
Parting the false from true, the wrong from right,
He straight presents them to his beauteous Queen,
Whose Courts are lower, yet of equall might;
Voletta
fair, who with him lives, and reignes;
Whom neither man, nor
fiend, nor God constrains:
Oft good, oft ill, oft both; yet ever free remains.
58
Not that great Soveraigne of the Fayrie
land,
Whom late our Colin hath eternized,
(Though Graces decking her with plenteous hand,
Themselves of grace have all unfurnished;
Though in her breast she
Vertues temple bare,
The fairest temple of a
guest so fair)
Not that great Glorians self with this
might
e’re compare.
59
Her radiant beautie, daz’ling mortall eye,
Strikes blinde the daring sense; her sparkling face
Her husbands self now cannot well descrie:
With such strange brightnesse, such immortall
grace,
Hath that great parent
in her cradle made,
That Cynthia’s silver
cheek would quickly fade,
And light it self to her would seem a painted
shade.
60
But (ah!) entic’t by her own worth and pride,
She stain’d her beautie with most loathsome spot;
Her Lords fixt law, and spouses light deni’d,
So fill’d her spouse and self with leprous blot:
And now all dark is
their first morning ray.
What verse might then
their former light display,
When yet their darkest night outshines the
brightest
day?
61
On her a royall damsell still attends,
And faithfull Counseller, Synteresis:
For though Voletta ever good intends,
Yet by fair ills she oft deceived is;
By ills so fairly drest
with cunning slight,
That Vertues self they
well may seem to sight,
But that bright Vertues self oft seems not half so
bright.
62
Therefore Synteresis of nimble sight,
Oft helps her doubtfull hand, and erring eye;
Els mought she ever stumbling in this night
Fall down as deepest Tartarie:
Nay thence a sad-fair
maid, Repentance,
rears,
And in her arms her
fainting Lady bears,
Washing her often stains with ever-falling tears.
63
Thereto she addes a water soveraigne,
Of wondrous force, and skilfull composition:
For first she pricks the heart in tender vein,
Then from those precious drops, and deep
contrition,
With
lips confession, and with pickled cries,
Still’d in a broken
spirit, sad vapours rise,
Exhal’d by sacred fires, and drop through melting
eyes.
64
These cordiall drops, these
spirit-healing balms
Cure all her sinfull bruises, cleare her eyes,
Unlock her ears, recover fainting qualms:
And now grown fresh and strong, she makes her rise,
And glasse of unmaskt
sinne she bright displaies,
Whereby she sees,
loathes, mends her former waies;
So soon repairs her light, trebling her new-born
raies.
65
But (ah!) why do we (simple as we
been)
With curious labour, dimme and vailed sight,
Prie into the nature of this King and Queen,
Groping in darknesse for so cleare a light?
A light which once could
not be thought or told,
But now with blackest
clouds is thick enroll’d,
Prest down in captive chains, and pent in earthly
mold.
66
Rather lament we this their wretched fate,
(Ah wretched fate, and fatal wretchednesse!)
Unlike those former dayes, and first estate,
When he espous’d with melting happinesse
To fair Voletta,
both their lights
conspiring,
He saw what e’re was fit
for her requiring,
And she to his cleare sight would temper her
desiring.
67
When both replenisht with celestiall light,
All coming evils could foresee and flie;
When both with clearest eye, and perfect sight
Could every natures difference descrie:
Whose pictures now they
scarcely see with pain,
Obscure and dark, like
to those
shadows vain,
Which thinne and emptie glide along Avernus
plain.
68
The flowers that frighted with sharp
winters dread,
Retire into their mother Tellus wombe,
Yet in the Spring in troups new mustered
Peep out again from their unfrozen tombe:
The early Violet will
fresh arise,
And spreading his
flour’d purple to the skies,
Boldly the little elf the winters spite defies.
69
The hedge green Sattin pinkt and cut arayes,
The Heliotrope to cloth of gold aspires;
In hundred-colour’d silks the Tulip playes,
Th’ Imperiall flower his neck with pearl attires,
The Lily high her silver
Grogram reares,
The Pansie her wrought
Velvet garmet bears;
The red Rose Scarlet, and the Provence Damask
wears.
70
How falls it then that such an heav’nly light,
As this great Kings, should sink so wondrous low,
That scarce he can suspect his former height?
Can one eclipse so dark his shining brow,
And steal away his
beautie glittering fair?
One onely blot so great
a light empair,
That never could he hope his waning to repair?
71
Ah! never could he hope once to
repair
So great a wane, should not that new-born Sun
Adopt him both his brother and his heir;
Who through base life, and death, and hell would
run,
To seat him in his
lost, now surer cell.
That he may mount to
heav’n, he sunk to hell;
That he might live, he di’d; that he might rise,
he
fell.
72
A perfect Virgin breeds and bears a Sonne,
Th’ immortall father of his mortall mother;
Earth, heav’n, flesh, spirit, man, God, are met in
one:
His younger brothers childe, his childrens brother,
Eternitie, who yet was
born and di’d;
His own creatour, earths
scorn, heavens pride;
Who th’ dietie inflesht, and mans flesh deifi’d.
73
Thou uncreated Sunne, heav’ns glory bright,
Whom we with knees and hearts low bent adore;
At rising, perfect, and now falling, light;
Ah what reward, what thanks shall we restore?
Thou wretched wast,
that we might happy be:
Oh all the good we hope,
and all we see,
That we thee know and love, comes from thy love,
and
thee.
74
Receive, which can only back return,
(Yet that we may return, thou first must give)
A heart, which fain would smoke, which fain would
burn
In praise; for thee, to thee would onely live:
And thou (who sat’st in
night to give us day)
Light and enflame us
with thy glorious ray,
That we may back reflect, and borrow’d light repay.
75
So we beholding with immortall eye
The glorious picture of thy heav’nly face,
In his first beautie and true Majestie,
May shake from our dull souls these fetters base;
And mounting up to that
bright crystal sphere,
Whence thou strik’st
all the world with
shudd’ring
fear,
May not be held by earth, nor hold vile earth so
deare.
76
Then should thy shepherd (poorest
shepherd) sing
A thousand Canto’s in thy heav’nly praise,
And rouze his flagging Muse, and flutt’ring wing,
To chant thy wonders in immortall laies,
(Which once thou
wrought’st, when Nilus
slimie shore,
Or Jordans banks
thy mighty hand adore)
Thy judgements, & thy mercies; but thy mercies
more.
77
But see, the stealing night with softly pace,
To flie the Western Sunne, creeps up the East;
Cold Hesper ‘gins unmask his evening face,
And calls the winking starres from drouzie rest:
Home then my lambes; the
falling drops eschew:
To morrow shall ye feast
in pastures new,
And with the rising Sunne banquet on pearled dew.
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