The
Purple
Island. Cantos VII-IX.
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.
CANT. VII.
THe rising morn lifts up his orient head,
And spangled heav’ns in golden robes invests;
Thirsil starting up from his fearlesse bed,
Where uselesse nights he safe and quiet rests,
Unhous’d his bleating
flock, and quickly thence
Hasting to his expecting
audience,
Thus with sad verse began their grieved mindes
incense:
2
Fond man, that looks on earth for
happinesse,
And here long seeks what here is
never found!
For all our good we hold from heav’n by lease,
With many forfeits and conditions bound;
Nor can we pay the fine
and rentage due:
Though now but writ, and
seal’d, and giv’n anew,
Yet daily we it break, then daily must renew.
3
Why should’st thou here look for
perpetuall good,
At every losse against heav’ns face repining?
Do but behold where glorious Cities stood,
With gilded tops, and silver turrets shining;
There now the Hart
fearlesse of greyhound feeds,
And loving Pelican in
safety breeds;
There shrieching Satyres fill the peoples emptie
steads.
4
Where is th’ Assyrian Lions golden hide,
That all the East once graspt in lordly paw?
Where that great Persian
Beare, whose swelling pride
The Lions self tore out with ravenous jaw?
Or he which ‘twixt a
Lion, and a Pard,
Through all the world
with nimble pineons far’d,
And to his greedy whelps his conquer’d kingdoms
shar’d?
5
Hardly the place of such antiquitie,
Or note of these great monarchies we finde:
Onely a fading verball memorie,
And emptie name in writ is left behinde:
But when this second
life, and glory fades,
And sinks at length in
times obscurer shades,
A second fall succeeds, and double death invades.
6
That monstrous beast, which nurst in Tibers
fenne,
Did all the world with hideous shape affray;
That fill’d with costly spoil his gaping denne,
And trode down all the rest to dust and clay:
His batt’ring horns
pull’d out by civil hands,
And iron teeth lie
scatter’d on the sands;
Backt, bridled by a Monk, with sev’n heads yoked
stands.
7
And that black Vulture,
which with deathfull wing
O’re-shadows half the earth, whose
dismall sight
Frighted the Muses from their native spring,
Already stoops, and flagges with weary flight.
Who then shall look for
happines beneath;
Where each new day proclaims chance,
change,
and death,
And life it self’s as flit as is the aire we
breathe?
8
Ne mought this Prince escape, though
he as farre
All these excels in worth and heav’nly grace,
As the brightest Phoebus does the dimmest
starre:
The deepest falls are from the highest place.
There lies he now
bruis’d with so sore a fall,
To his base bonds, and
loathsome prison thrall,
Whom thousand foes besiege, fenc’d with frail
yielding wall.
9
Tell me, oh tell me then, thou holy Muse,
Sacred Thespio, what the cause may be
Of such despite, so many foemen use
To persecute unpiti’d miserie:
Or if these cankred foes
(as most men say)
So mighty be, that gird
this wall of clay;
What makes it hold so long, and threatned ruine
stay?
10
When that great Lord his standing
Court would build,
The outward walls with gemmes and glorious lights,
But inward rooms with nobler Courtiers fill’d;
Pure, living flames, swift, mighty, blessed
sprites:
But some his royall
service (fools!) disdain;
So down were flung: (oft
blisse is double pain)
In heav’n they scorn’d to serve, so now in hell
they reigne.
11
There turn’d to serpents, slown
with pride and hate,
Their Prince a Dragon fell, who burst with spight
To see this Kings and Queens yet happy state,
Tempts them to lust and pride, prevails by slight:
To make them wise, and
gods he undertakes.
Thus while the snake
they heare, they turn to
snakes;
To make them gods he boasts, but beasts, and
devils
makes.
12
But that great Lion
who in Judahs plains
The awfull beasts holds down in due subjection,
The Dragons craft, and base-got spoil disdains,
And folds this captive Prince in his protection;
Breaks
ope the jayl, & brings the prisoners thence,
Yet plac’t them in this
castles weak defence,
Where they might trust and seek an higher
providence.
13.
So now spread round about this little hold,
With armies infinite encamped lie
Th’ enraged Dragon and his Serpents bold:
And knowing well his time grows short and nigh,
He swells with venom’d
gore and poys’nous heat;
His
tail unfolded heav’n it self doth beat,
And sweeps the mighty starres from their
transcendent
seat.
14
With him goes Caro,
cursed damme of sinne,
Foul filthie damme of fouler progenie;
Yet seems (skin-deep) most fair by witching gin
To weaker sight; but to a purged eye
Looks like (nay worse
then) hells infernall
hagges:
Her empty breasts hang
like lank hollow bagges,
And Iris ulcer’d skin is patcht with
leprous
ragges.
15
Therefore her loathsome shade in steel arayd,
All rust within, the outside polisht bright:
And on her shield a Mermaid sung and playd;
Whose humane beauties ‘lure the wandring sight,
But slimy scales hid in
their waters lie:
She chants, she smiles,
so draws the eare, the
eye,
And whom she winnes, she kills: the word, Heare,
gaze, & die.
16
And after march her fruitfull serpent frie,
Whom she of divers lechers divers bore;
Marshall’d in severall ranks their colours flie:
Foure
to Anagnus, foure this painted whore
To loathsome Asebie
brought forth to
light;
Twice foure got Adicus,
a hateful wight;
But swoln Acrates two, born in one bed,
and
night.
17
Moechus
the first, of blushlesse bold aspect;
Yet with him Doubt and Fear still trembling go:
Oft lookt he back, as if he did suspect
Th’ approach of some unwisht, unwelcome foe:
Behinde, fell Jealousie
his steps observ’d,
And sure Revenge, with
dart that never swerv’d:
Ten thousand griefs and plagues he felt, but more
deserv’d.
18
His armour black as hell, or starlesse night;
And in his shield he lively pourtray’d bare
Mars fast impound in arms of Venus
light,
And ti’d as fast as in Vulcans subtil
snare:
She feign’d to blush for shame now all
too
late;
But his red colour
seem’d to sparkle hate:
Sweet are stoln waters, round about the
marge
he wrate.
19
Porneius
next him pac’t, a meager wight;
Whose leaden eyes sunk deep in swimming head,
And joylesse look, like some pale ashie spright,
Seem’d as he now were dying, or now dead:
And with him
Wastefulnesse, that all expended,
And Want, that still in
theft and prison ended:
A hundred foul diseases close at’s back attended.
20
His shining helm might seem a sparkling flame,
Yet sooth nought was it but a foolish fire:
And all his arms were of that burning frame,
That flesh and bones were gnawn with hot desire:
Bout his wrist his
blazing shield did frie
With sweltring hearts in
flame of luxurie:
His word, In fire I live, in fire I burn and
die.
21
With him Acatharus
in Tuscan guise;
A thing, that neither man will owne, nor beast:
Upon a boy he lean’d in wanton wise,
On whose fair limbes his eyes still greedie feast;
He sports, he toyes,
kisses his shining face:
Behinde, reproach and
thousand devils pace;
Before, bold Impudence, that cannot change her
grace.
22
His armour seem’d to laugh with idle boyes,
Which all about their wonton sportings playd;
Al’s would himself help out their childish toyes,
And like a boy lend them unmanly aid:
In his broad targe the
bird her wings dispread,
Which trussing wafts the
Trojan Ganymed:
And round which was writ, Like with his like
is
coupeled.
23
Aselges
follow’d next, the boldest boy,
That ever play’d in Venus wanton court:
He
little cares who notes his lavish joy;
Broad were his jests, wilde his uncivil sport;
His fashion too too
fond, and loosly light:
A long love-lock on his
left shoulder plight,
Like to a womans hair, well shew’d a womans sprite.
24
Lust in strange nests this Cuckoe
egge conceiv’d;
Which nurst with surfets, drest with
fond disguises,
In fancies school his breeding first
receiv’d:
So this brave spark to wilder flame
arises;
And now to court
preferr’d, high
bloods he fires,
There blows up pride,
vain mirths
and loose desires;
And heav’nly souls (oh grief!) with
hellish flame inspires.
25
There oft to rivals lends the gentle
Dor,
Oft takes (his mistresse by) the
bitter Bob:
There learns her each daies change of
Gules, Verd, Or,
(His sampler) if she pouts, her slave
must sob:
Her face his sphere, her
hair his
circling skie;
Her love his heav’n, her
sight
eternitie:
Of her he dreams, with her he lives,
for her he’l die.
26
Upon his arm a tinsell scarf he wore,
Forsooth his Madams favour, spangled
fair:
Light as himself, a fanne his helmet
bore,
With ribbons drest, begg’d from his
Mistresse hair:
On’s
shield a winged boy all naked shin’d;
His
folded eyes willing and wilfull blinde:
The word was wrought with gold, Such
is a lovers minde.
27
These foure, Anagnus and foul Caro’s
sonnes,
Who led a diff’rent, and disorder’d
rout;
Fancie, a lad that all in feathers
wons,
And loose desire, and danger linkt
with doubt;
And thousand wanton
thoughts still
budding new:
But lazie ease usher’d
the idle
crue;
And lame disease shuts up their
troops with torments due.
28
Next band by Asebie was boldly
led,
And his foure sonnes, begot in Stygian
night:
First Idololatros,
whose monstrous head
Was like an ugly fiend, his flaming
sight
Like blazing starres;
the rest all
different:
For to his shape some
part each
creature lent,
But to the great Creatour all
adversly bent.
29
Upon his breast a bloudie Crosse he
scor’d,
Which oft he worshipt; but the Christ
that di’d
Thereon, he seldome but in paint
ador’d;
Yet wood, stone, beasts, wealth,
lusts, fiends deifi’d:
He makes meer pageants
of the saving
Rock,
Puppet-like trimming his
Almighty
stock:
Which then, his god or he, which is
the verier block?
30
Of Giant shape, and strength thereto
agreeing,
Wherewith he whilome all the world
opprest;
And yet the greater part his vassals
being,
Slumbring in ignorance, securely
rest:
A golden calf (himself
more beast)
he bore;
Which brutes with
dancings, gifts,
and songs adore:
Idols are lay-mens books, he
round had wrote in Ore.
31
Next Pharmacus,
of gashly wilde aspect;
Whom hell with seeming fear, and
fiends obey:
Full eas’ly would he know each past
effect,
And things to come with double guesse
foresay,
By slain beasts
entrails, and fowls
marked flight:
Thereto he tempests
rais’d by many
a spright,
And charm’d the Sunne and Moon, &
chang’d the day and night.
32
So when the South (dipping his
sablest wings
In humid Ocean) sweeps with’s
dropping beard
Th’ aire, earth, and seas; his lips
loud thunderings
And flasing eyes make all the world
afeard:
Light with dark clouds,
waters with
fires are met:
The Sunne but now is
rising, now is
set;
And findes west-shades in East, and
seas in ayers wet.
33
By birth, and hand, he jugling
fortunes tells;
Oft brings from shades his grandsires
damned ghost,
Oft stoln goods forces out by wicked
spells:
His frightfull shield with thousand
fiends embost,
Which seem’d without a
circles
ring to play:
In midst himself dampens
the smiling
day,
And prints sad characters, which none
may write, or say.
34
The third Haereticus,
a wrangling carle,
Who in the way to heav’n would
wilfulle erre;
And oft convicted, still would snatch
and snarle:
His Crambe oft repeats; all
tongue, no eare.
Him Obstinacie, Pride,
and Scorn
attended:
On’s shield with Truth
Errour
disguis’d contended:
His Motto this, Rather thus erre,
then be amended.
35
Last marcht Hypocrisie, false
form of grace,
That vaunts the show of all, ha’s
truth of none:
A rotten heart he masks with painted
face;
Among the beasts a mule, ‘mong bees
a drone,
‘Mong starres a meteor:
all the
world neglects him;
Nor good, nor bad, nor
heav’n, nor
earth affects him:
The earth for glaring forms, for bare
forms heav’n rejects him.
36
His wanton heart he vails with dewy
eyes,
So oft the world, and oft himself
deceives:
His tongue his heart, his silver
hands his tongue belies:
In’s path (as snails) silver, but
slime he leaves:
He Babels glory
is, but Sions
taint;
Religions blot, but
Irreligions
paint:
A Saint abroad, at home a Fiend; and
worst a Saint.
37
So tallow lights live glitt’ring,
stinking die;
Their gleams aggrate the sight,
steams would the smell:
So Sodom apples pease the
ravisht eye,
But sulphure taste proclaims their
root’s in hell:
So airy flames to
heav’nly seem
alli’d;
But when their oyl is
spent, they
swiftly glide,
And into jelly’d mire melt all
their gilded pride.
38
So rushes green, smooth, full, are
spungie light;
So their ragg’d stones in velvet
peaches gown:
So rotten sticks seem starres in
cheating night;
So quagmires false their mire with
emeralds crown:
Such is Hypocrisies
deceitfull frame;
A stinking light, a
sulphure fruit,
false flame,
Smooth rush, hard peach, sere wood,
false mire, a voice, a name.
39
Such were his arms, false gold, true
alchymie;
Glitt’ring with glassie stones, and
fine deceit:
His sword a flatt’ring steel, which
gull’d the eye,
And pierc’t the heart with pride
and self-conceit:
On’s shield a tombe,
where death
had drest his bed
With curious art, and
crown’d his
loathsome head
With gold, & gems: his word, More gorgeous
when dead.
40
Before them went their nurse, bold Ignorance;
A loathsome monster, light, sight,
‘mendment scorning:
Born deaf and blinde, fitter to lead
the dance
To such a rout; her silver heads
adorning
(Her dotage index) much
she bragg’d,
yet feign’d:
For by false tallies
many yeares she
gain’d.
Wise youth is honour’d age;
fond’s age with dotage stain’d.
41
Her failing legges with erring
footsteps reel’d;
(Lame guide to blisse!) her daughters
on each side
Much pain’d themselves her
stumbling feet to weeld;
Both like their mother, dull and
beetle-ey’d:
The first was Errour
false, who
multiplies
Her num’rous race in
endlesse
progenies:
For but one truth there is, ten
thousand thousand lies.
42
Her brood o’re-spread her round
with sinne and bloud,
With envie, malice, mischiefs
infinite;
While she to see her self amazed
stood,
So often got with childe and bigge
with spite:
Her off-spring flie
about &
spread their seed;
Straight hate, pride,
schisme,
warres & seditions breed,
Get up, grow ripe. How soon
prospers the vicious weed!
43
The other Owl-ey’d Superstition,
Deform’d, distorted, blinde in
shining light;
Yet styles her self holy Devotion,
And so is call’d, and seems in
shadie night:
Fearfull, as is the
hare, or hunted
hinde;
Her face and breast she
oft with
crosses sign’d:
No custome would she break, or change
her settled minde.
44
If hare or snake her way, herself she
crosses,
And stops her ‘mazed steps; sad
fears affright her,
When falling salt points out some
fatall losses,
Till Bacchus grapes with holy
sprinkle quite her:
Her onely bible is an
Erra Pater;
Her antidote are hallow
d wax and
water:
I’ th’ dark all lights are
sprites, all noises chains that clatter.
45
With them marcht (sunk in deep
securitie)
Profanenesse, to be fear’d
for never fearing;
And by him, new-oaths-coyning Blasphemie,
Who names not God, but in curse, or
swearing:
And thousand other
fiends in diverse
fashion,
Dispos’d in severall
ward, and
certain station:
Under, Hell widely yawn’d; and
over, flew Damnation.
46
Next Adicus his sonnes; first Ecthroes
slie,
Whose prickt-up eares kept open house
for lies;
And sleering eyes still watch and
wait to spie
When to return still-living injuries:
Fair weather smil’d upon
his
painted face,
And eyes
spoke peace, till he had time and place;
Then poures down showers of rage, and
streams of rancour base.
47
So when a sable cloud with swelling
sail
Comes swimming through calm skies,
the silent aire
(While fierce windes sleep in Aeols
rockie jayl)
With spangled beams embroid’red,
glitters fair;
But soon ‘gins lowr:
straight
clatt’ring hail is bred,
Scatt’ring cold shot;
light hides
his golden head,
And with untimely winter earth’s
o’re-silvered.
48
His arms well suit his minde, where
smiling skies
Breed thund’ring tempests: on his
loftie crest
Asleep the spotted Panther couching
lies,
And by sweet sents and skinne so
quaintly drest,
Draws on her prey: upon
his shield
he bears
The dreadfull monster
which great Nilus
fears;
(The weeping Crocadile) his word, I
kill with tears.
49
With him Dissemblance went,
his Paramour,
Whose painted face might hardly be
detected:
Arms of offence he seld’ or never
wore,
Lest thence his close designes might
be suspected;
But clasping close his
foe, as loth
to part,
He steals his dagger
with false
smiling art,
And sheaths the trait’rous steel in
his own masters heart.
50
Two Jewish Captains, close
themselves enlacing
In loves sweet twines, his target
broad display’d;
One th’ others beard with his left
hand embracing,
But in his right a shining sword he
sway’d,
Which unawares through
th’ others
ribs he smites;
There lay the wretch
without all
buriall rites:
His word, He deepest wounds, that
in his fawning bites.
51
Eris
the next, of sex unfit for warre:
Her arms were bitter words from
flaming tongue,
Which never quiet, wrangle, fight,
and jarre;
Ne would she weigh report with right,
or wrong:
What once she held, that
would she
ever hold,
And Non-obstantes
force with
courage bold:
The last word she must have, or never
leave to scold.
52
She is the trumpet to this angrie
train,
And whets their furie with
loud-railing spite:
But when no open foes did more
remain,
Against themselves themselves she
would incite.
Her clacking mill,
driv’n by her
flowing gall,
Could never stand, but
chide, rail,
bark, and bawl:
Her shield no word could find; her
tongue engrost them all.
53
Zelos
the third, whose spitefull emulation
Could not endure a fellow in
excelling;
Yet slow in any vertues imitation,
At easie rate that fair possession
selling:
Still as he went, he
hidden sparkles
blew,
Till to a mighty flame
they sudden
grew,
And like fierce lightning all in
quick destruction drew.
54
Upon his shield lay that Tirinthian
Swain,
Sweltring in fierie gore and
pois’nous flame;
His wives sad gift venom’d with
bloudie stain:
Well could he bulls, snakes, hell,
all monsters tame;
Well could he heav’n
support and
prop alone;
But by fell Jealousie
soon
overthrown,
Without a foe, or sword: his motto, First, or
none.
55
Thumos
the fourth, a dire, revengefull swain;
Whose soul was made of flames, whose
flesh of fire:
Wrath in his heart, hate, rage and
furie reigne;
Fierce was his look, when clad in
sparkling tire;
But when dead palenesse
in his cheek
took seisure,
And all the bloud in’s
boyling
heart did treasure,
Then in his wilde revenge kept he nor
mean, nor measure.
56
Look as when waters wall’d with
brazen wreath
Are sieg’d with crackling flames,
their common foe;
The angrie seas ‘gin foam and hotly
breathe,
Then swell, rise, rave, and still
more furious grow;
Nor can be held, but
forc’t with
fires below,
Tossing their waves,
break out and
all o’reflow:
So boyl’d his rising bloud, and
dasht his angry brow.
57
For in his face red heat, and ashie
cold
Strove which should paint revenge in
proper colours:
That, like consuming fire, most
dreadfull roll’d;
This, liker death, threatens all
deadly dolours:
His trembling hand a
dagger still
embrac’t,
Which in his friend he
rashly oft
encas’t:
His shields devise fresh bloud with
foulest stain defac’t.
58
Next him Erithius,
most unquiet swain,
That all in law and fond contention
spent;
Not one was found in all this
numerous train,
With whom in any thing he would
consent:
His Will his Law, he
weigh’d not
wrong or right;
Much scorn’d to bear,
much more
forgive a spight:
Patience he th’ asses load, and
cowards Vertue hight.
59
His weapons all were fram’d of
shining gold,
Wherewith he subt’ly fought close
under hand:
Thus would he right from right by
force withhold,
Nor suits, nor friends, nor laws his
slights withstand:
Ah powerfulle weapon!
how dost thou
bewitch
Great, but base mindes,
&
spott’st with leprous itch,
That never are in thought, nor ever
can be rich!
60
Upon his belt (fastned with leather
laces)
Black boxes hung sheaths of his
paper-swords;
Fill’d up with Writs, Sub-poena’s,
Triall-cases;
This trespast him in cattel, that in
words:
Fit his device, and well
his shield
became,
A Salamander drawn in
lively frame:
His word was this, I live, I
breathe, I feed in flame.
61
Next after him marcht proud Dichostasis,
That wont but in the factious court
to dwell;
But now to shepherd-swains close
linked is;
And taught them (fools!) to change
their humble cell,
And lowly weed for
courts, and
purple gay,
To sit aloft, and States
and Princes
sway:
A hook, no scepter needs our erring
sheep to stay.
62
A Miter trebly crown’d th’
Impostour wore;
For heav’n, earth, hell he claims
with loftie pride.
Not in his lips, but hands, two keyes
he bore,
Heav’ns doores and hells to shut,
and open wide:
But late his keyes are
marr’d, or
broken quite:
For hell he cannot shut,
but opens
light;
Nor heav’n can ope, but shut; nor
buyes, but sells by slight.
63
Two heads, oft three, he in one body
had,
Nor with the body, nor themselves
agreeing:
What this commanded, th’ other soon
forbad;
As different in rule, as nature
being:
The body to them both,
and neither
prone,
Was like a
double-hearted dealer
grown;
Endeavouring to please both parties,
pleasing none.
64
As when the powerfulle winde and
adverse tide
Strive which should most command the
subject main;
The scornfull waves, swelling with
angrie pride,
Yeelding to neither, all their force
disdain:
Mean time the shaken
vessel
doubtfull playes,
And on the stagg’ring
billow
trembling stayes,
And would obey them both, and none of
them obeyes.
65
A subtil craftsman fram’d him
seemly arms,
Forg’d in the shop of wrangling
sophistrie;
And wrought with curious arts, and
mightie charms,
Temper’d with lies, and false
philosophie:
Millions of heedlesse
souls thus had
he slain.
His sev’n-fold targe a
field of
Gules did stain;
In which two swords he bore: his
word, Divide, and reigne.
66
Envie the next, Envie
with squinted eyes;
Sick of a strange disease, his
neighbours health:
Best lives he then, when any better
dies;
Is never poore, but in anothers
wealth:
On best mens harms and
griefs he
feeds his fill;
Else his own maw doth
eat with
spitefull will.
Ill must the temper be, where diet is
so ill.
67
Each eye through divers opticks slily
leers,
Which both his sight, and object self
belie;
So greatest vertue as a mote
appeares,
And molehill faults to mountains
multiplie.
When needs he must, yet
faintly,
then he praises;
Somewhat the deed, much
more the
means he raises:
So marreth what he makes, &
praising most dispraises.
68
Upon his shield that cruell
Herd-groom play’d,
Fit instrument of Juno’s
jealous spight;
His hundred eyes stood fixed on the
maid;
He pip’t, she sigh’d: his word, Her day my
night.
His missile weapon was a
lying
tongue,
Which he farre off like
swiftest
lightning flung,
That all the world with noise &
foul blaspheming rung.
69
Last of this rout the savage Phonos
went,
Whom his dire mother nurst with
humane bloud;
And when more age and strength more
fiercenesse lent,
She taught him in a dark and desert
wood
With force and guile
poore
passengers to slay,
And on their flesh his
barking
stomack stay,
And with their wretched bloud his
firy thirst allay.
70
So when the never-setled Scythian
Removes his dwelling in an empty
wain;
When now the Sunne hath half his
journey ranne,
His horse he bloods, and pricks a
trembling vain,
So from the wound
quenches his
thirstie heat:
Yet worse, this fiend
makes his own
flesh his meat.
Monster! the ravenous beare his
kinde will never eat.
71
Ten thousand Furies on his steps
awaited;
Some sear’d his hardned soul with Stygian
brand:
Some with black terrours his faint
conscience baited,
That wide he star’d, and starched
hair did stand.
The first-born man still
in his
minde he bore,
Foully array’d in
guiltlesse
brothers gore,
Which for revenge to heav’n from
earth did loudly roar.
72
His arms offensive all, to spill, not
spare;
Swords, pistols, poisons, instruments
of hell:
A shield he wore (not that the wretch
did care
To save his flesh, oft he himself
would quell)
For shew, not use: on it
a viper
swilling
The dammes spilt gore,
his emptie
bowels filling
With flesh that gave him life: his
word, I live by killing.
73
And last his brutish sonnes Acrates
sent,
Whom Caro bore both in one
birth and bed;
Methos
the first, whose panch his feet out-went,
As if it usher’d his unsetled head:
His soul quite sowced
lay in grapie
bloud;
In all his parts the
idle dropsie
stood;
Which, though already drown’d,
still thirsted for the floud.
74
This thing, nor man, nor beast,
tunnes all his wealth
In drink; his dayes, his yeares in
liquour drenching:
So quaffes he sicknesse down by
quaffing health,
Firing his cheeks with quenching,
strangely quenching
His eyes with firing;
dull and faint
they roll’d:
But nimble lips known
things, and
hid unfold;
Belchings, oft-sips, large spits
point the long tale he told.
75
His armour green might seem a
fruitfull vine;
The clusters prison’d in the
close-set leaves,
Yet oft between the bloudie grape did
shine;
And peeping forth, his jaylers spite
deceives:
Among the boughs did
swilling
Bacchus ride,
Whom
wilde-grown Maenads bore, and every stride
Bacche, Io Bacche, loud with
madding voice they cri’d.
76
On’s shield the goatish Satyres
dance around,
(Their heads much lighter then their
nimble heels)
Silenus old, in wine (as ever)
drown’d,
Clos’d with the ring, in midst
(though sitting) reels:
Under his arm a bag-pipe
swoln he
held,
(Yet wine-swoln cheeks
the windie
bag out-swell’d)
So loudly pipes: his word, But
full, no mirth I yeeld.
77
Insatiate sink, how with so generall
stain
Thy spu’d-out puddles court, town,
fields entice!
Ay me! the shepherds selves thee
entertain,
And to thy Curtian gulph do
sacrifice:
All drink to spue, and
spue again to
drink.
Sowre swil-tub sinne, of
all the
rest the sink,
How canst thou thus betwitch with thy
abhorred stink?
78
The eye thou wrong’st with vomits
reeking streams,
The eare with belching; touch thou
drown’st in wine;
The taste thou surfet’st; smell
with spuing steams
Thou woundest: foh! thou loathsome
putrid swine,
Still thou increasest
thirst, when
thirst thou slakest;
The minde and will thou
(wits bane)
captive takest:
Senseles thy hoggish filth, &
sense thou senseles makest.
79
Thy fellow sinnes, and all the rest
of vices
With seeming good are fairly cloath’d
to sight;
Their feigned sweet the bleare-ey’d
will entices,
Coz’ning the daz’led sense with
borrow’d light:
Thee neither true, nor
yet false
good commends;
Profit nor pleasure on
thy steps
attends:
Folly begins thy sinne, which still
with madnesse ends.
80
With Methos, Gluttonie,
his gutling brother,
Twinne parallels, drawn from the
self-same line;
So foully like was either to the
other,
And both most like a
monstrous-panched swine:
His life was either a
continu’d
feast,
Whose surfets upon
surfets him
opporest;
Or heavie sleep, that helps so great
a load digest.
81
Mean time his soul, weigh’d down
with muddie chains,
Can neither work, nor move in captive
bands;
But dull’d in vaprous fogges, all
carelesse reignes,
Or rather serves strong appetites
commands:
That when he now was
gorg’d with
crammd-down store,
And porter wanting room
had shut the
doore,
The glutton sigh’d that he could
gurmandize no more.
82
His crane-like neck was long unlac’d;
his breast,
His gowtie limbes, like to a circle
round,
As broad as long; and for his spear
in rest
Oft with his staffe he beats the
yeelding ground;
Wherewith his hands did
help his
feet to bear,
Els would they ill so
huge a burthen
stear:
His clothes were all of leaves, no
armour could he wear.
83
Onely a target light upon his arm
He carelesse bore, on which old Gryll
was drawn,
Transform’d into a hog with cunning
charm;
In head, and paunch, and soul it self
a brawn:
Half drown’d within,
without, yet
still did hunt
In his deep trough for
swill, as he
was wont;
Cas’d all in loathsome mire: no
word; Gryll could but grunt.
84
Him serv’d sweet-seeming lusts,
self-pleasing lies;
But bitter death flow’d from those
sweets of sinne:
And at the Rear of these in secret
guise
Crept Theeverie, and Detraction,
neare akinne;
No twinnes more like:
they seem’d
almost the same;
One stole the goods,
the other the
good name:
The latter lives in scorn, the former
dies in shame.
85
Their boon companions in their
joviall feasting
Were new-shapt oaths, and damning
perjuries:
Their cates, fit for their taste,
profanest jesting,
Sauc’d with the salt of hell, dire
blasphemies.
But till th’ ambitious
Sunne, yet
still aspiring,
Allayes his flaming
gold with
gentler firing,
We’l rest our wearie song in that
thick groves retiring.
CANT. VIII.
THe Sunne began to slack his bended bow,
And more obliquely dart his milder ray;
When cooler ayers gently ‘gan to blow,
And fanne the fields parcht with the scorching day:
The shepherds to their
wonted seats repair;
Thirsil, refresht
with this soft-breathing aire,
Thus ‘gan renew his task, and broken song repair:
2
What watchfull care must fence that weary state,
Which deadly foes begirt with cruell siege;
And frailest wall of glasse, and trait’rous gate
Strive which should first yeeld up their wofull
liege?
By enemies assail’d, by
friends betray’d;
When others hurt,
himself refuses aid:
By weaknesse self his strength is foil’d and
overlay’d.
3
How comes it then that in so neare decay
We deadly sleep in deep securitie,
When every houre is ready to betray
Our lives to that still-watching enemie?
Wake then thy soul that
deadly slumbereth:
For when thy foe hath
siez’d thy captive breath,
Too late to wish past life, too late to wish for
death.
4
Caro the Vantguard with the Dragon led,
Cosmos
the battell guides, with loud alarms;
Cosmos, the first sonne to the Dragon red,
Shining in seeming gold, and glitt’ring arms:
Well might he seem a
strong and gentle Knight,
As e’re was clad in
steel and armour bright;
But was a recreant base, a foul, false, cheating
sprite.
5
And as himself, such were his arms;
appearing
Bright burnisht gold, indeed base alchymie,
Dimme beetle eyes, and greedy worldlings blearing:
His shield was drest in nights sad liverie,
Where man-like Apes a
Gloworm compasse round,
Glad that in wintrie
night they fire had found;
Busie they puffe & blow: the word, Mistake
the ground.
6
Mistake points all his darts; his
sunshines bright
(Mistaken) light appeare, sad lightning prove:
His clouds (mistook) seem lightnings, turn to
light;
His love true hatred is, his hatred love;
His shop, a Pedlars pack
of apish fashion;
His honours, pleasures,
joyes are all vexation:
His wages, glorious care, sweet surfets, woo’d
damnation.
7
His lib’rall favours, complemental arts;
His high advancements, Alpine slipp’ry straits;
His smiling glances, deaths most pleasing darts;
And (what he vaunts) his gifts are gilded baits:
Indeed he nothing is,
yet all appears.
Haplesse earths happy
fools, that know no tears!
Who bathes in worldly joyes, swimmes in a world
of
fears.
8
Pure Essence, who hast made a stone
descrie
‘Twixt natures hid, and check that metals pride
That dares aspire to golds high soveraigntie;
Ah leave some touch-stone erring eyes to guide,
And judge dissemblance;
see by what devices
Sinne with fair glosse
our mole-ey’d sight
entises,
That vices vertues seem to most; and vertues,
vices.
9
Strip thou their meretricious seemlinesse,
And tinfold glitt’ring bare to every sight,
That we may loath their inward uglinesse;
Or else uncloud the soul, whose shadie light
Addes a fair luster to
false earthly blisse:
Thine and their beauty
differs but in this;
Theirs what is not, seems; thine seems not what it
is.
10
Next to the Captain coward Deilos
far’d;
Him right before he as his shield projected,
And following troops to back him as his guard;
Yet both his shield and guard (faint heart)
suspected:
And sending often back
his doubtfull eye,
By fearing taught
unthought of treacherie;
So made him enemies, by fearing enmitie.
11
Still did he look for some ensuing crosse,
Fearing such hap as never man befell:
No mean he knows, but dreads each little losse
(With tyrannie of fear distraught) as hell.
His sense he dare not
trust, (nor eyes, nor eares)
And when no other cause
of fright appears,
Himself he much suspects, and fears his causelesse
fears.
12
Harnest with massie steel, for fence, not fight;
His sword unseemly long he ready drew:
At sudden shine of his own armour bright
He started oft, and star’d with ghastly hue:
He shrieks at every
danger that appears,
Shaming the knightly
arms he goodly bears:
His word, Safer that all, then he that nothing
fears.
13
With him went Doubt,
stagg’ring with steps unsure,
That every way, and neither way enclin’d;
And fond Distrust, whom nothing could
secure;
Suspicion lean, as if he never din’d:
He keeps intelligence by
thousand spies;
Argus to him
bequeath’d his hundred eyes:
So waking still he sleeps, and sleeping wakefull
lies.
14
Fond Deilos all, Tolmetes
nothing fears;
Just frights he laughs, all terrours counteth base;
And when of danger, or sad news he heares,
He meets the thund’ring fortune face to face:
Yet oft in words he
spends his boisterous threat;
That his hot bloud,
driv’n from the native seat,
Leaves his faint
coward heart empty of lively heat.
15
Himself (weak help!) was all his confidence;
He scorns low ebs, but swimmes in highest rises:
His limbes with arms or shield he would not fence;
Such coward fashion (fool!) he much despises:
Ev’n for his single
sword the world seems scant;
For hundred worlds his
conqu’ring arm could dant:
Much would he boldly do, but much more boldly vant.
16
With him went self-admiring Arrogance,
And Bragge, his deeds without an helper
praising:
Blinde Carelesnesse before would lead the
dance;
Fear stole behind, those vaunts in balance
peysing,
Which farre their deeds
outweigh’d; their
violence,
‘Fore danger spent with
lavish diffluence,
Was none, or weak in time of greatest exigence.
17
As when a fierie courser readie bent,
Puts forth himself at first with swiftest pace;
Till with too sudden flash his spirits spent,
Alreadie fails now in the middle race:
His hanging crest farre
from his wonted pride,
No longer now obeyes his
angrie guide;
Rivers of sweat and bloud flow from his gored side:
18
Thus ran the rash Tolmetes,
never viewing
The fearfull fiends that duly him attended;
Destruction close his steps in poast pursuing,
And certain ruines heavie weights depended
Over his cursed head,
and smooth-fac’d guile,
That with him oft would
loosly play and smile;
Till in his snare he lockt his feet with
treach’rous
wile.
19
Next marcht Asotus,
careless-spending Swain;
Who with a fork went spreading all around,
Which his old sire with sweating toil and pain
Long time was raking from his racked ground:
In giving he observ’d
nor form, nor matter,
But
best reward he got, that best could flatter;
Thus what he thought to give, he did not give, but
scatter.
20
Before aray’d in sumptuous braverie,
Deckt court-like in the choice and newest guise;
But all behinde like drudging slaverie,
With ragged patches, rent, and bared thighs:
His shamefull parts,
that shunne the hated light,
Were naked left; (ah
foul unhonest sight!)
Yet neither could he see, nor feel his wretched
plight.
21
His shield presents to life deaths latest rites,
A sad black herse born up with sable swains;
Which many idle grooms with hundred lights
(Tapers, lamps, torches) usher through the plains
To endlesse darknesse;
while the Sunnes bright
brow
With fierie beams
quenches their smoaking tow
And wastes their idle cost: the word, Not
need,
but show.
22
A vagrant rout (a shoal of tatling
daws)
Strow him with vain-spent prayers, and idle layes;
And flatt’rie to his sinne close curtains draws,
Clawing his itching eare with tickling praise:
Behinde, fond pitie much
his fall lamented,
And miserie, that former
waste repented:
The usurer for his goods, jayl for his bones
indented.
23
His steward was his kinsman, Vain-expense,
Who proudly strove in matters light to shew
Heroick minde in braggard affluence;
So lost his treasure, getting nought in liew,
But ostentation of a
foolish pride;
While women fond, and
boyes stood gaping wide;
But wise men all his waste and needlesse cost
deride.
24
Next Pleonectes
went, his gold admiring,
His servants drudge, slave to his basest slave;
Never enough, and still too much
desiring:
His gold his god, yet in an iron grave
Himself protects his god
from noysome rusting;
Much fears to keep, much
more to loose his
lusting;
Himself, and golden god, and every god mistrusting.
25
Age on his hairs the winter snow had spread;
That silver badge his neare end plainly proves:
Yet as to earth
he nearer bowes his head,
So loves it more; for Like his like still loves.
Deep from the ground he
digs his
sweetest gain,
And deep into the earth
digs back with pain:
From hell his gold he brings, and hoords in hell
again.
26
His clothes all patcht with more then
honest thrift,
And clouted shoon were nail’d for fear of wasting;
Fasting he prais’d, but sparing was his drift;
And when he eats, his food is worse that fasting:
Thus starves in store,
thus doth in plentie pine,
Thus wallowing on his
god, his heap of Mine,
He feeds his famisht soul with that deceiving
shine.
27
Oh hungrie metall, false deceitfull ray,
Well laid’st thou dark, prest in th’ earths
hidden wombe;
Yet through our mothers entrails cutting way,
We dragge thy buried coarse from hellish tombe:
The merchant from his
wife and home departs,
Nor at the swelling
ocean ever starts;
While death & life a wall of thinne planks
onely
parts.
28
Who was it first, that from thy deepest cell,
With so much costly toil and painfull sweat
Durst rob thy palace, bord’ring next to hell?
Well mayst thou come from that infernall seat;
Thou all the world with
hell-black deeps dost
fill.
Fond men, that with such
pain do wooe your ill!
Needlesse to send for grief, for he is next us
still.
29
His arms were light, and cheap, as
made to save
His purse, not limbes; the money, not the man:
Rather he dies, then spends: his helmet brave,
An old brasse pot; breast-plate a dripping-pan:
His spear a spit, a
pot-lid broad his shield,
Whose smokie plain a
chalkt Impresa fill’d,
A bagge sure seal’d: his word, Much better
sav’d, then spill’d.
30
By Pleonectes shamelesse Sparing
went,
Who whines and weeps to beg a longer day,
Yet with a thundering voice claims tardie rent;
Quick to receive, but hard and slow to pay:
His care’s to lessen
cost with cunning base;
But when he’s forc’t
beyond his bounded space,
Loud would he crie, & howl, while others laugh
apace.
31
Long after went Pusillus,
weakest heart,
Able to serve, and able to command,
But thought himself unfit for either part;
And now full loth, amidst the warlike band
Was hither drawn by
force from quiet cell:
Lonenesse his heav’n,
and bus’ness
was his hell.
A weak distrustfull heart is vertues aguish
spell.
32
His goodly arms, eaten with shamefull rust,
Betwray’d their masters ease, and want of using;
Such was his minde, tainted with idle must,
His goodly gifts with little use abusing:
Upon his shield was
drawn that noble Swain
That loth to change his
love and quiet reigne
For glorious warlike deeds, did craftie madnesse
feigne.
33
Finely the workman fram’d the
toilsome plough
Drawn with an ox and asse, unequall pair;
While he with busie hand his salt did sow,
And at the furrows end his dearest heir
Did helplesse lie, and
Greek lords watching still
Observ’d his hand guided
with carefull will:
About was wrote, Who nothing doth, doth
nothing
ill.
34
By him went Idlenesse, his loved friend,
And Shame with both; with all, ragg’d Povertie:
Behinde sure Punishment did close attend,
Waiting a while fit opportunitie;
And taking count of
houres mispent in vain,
And graces lent without
returning gain,
Pour’d on his guiltie corse late grief, &
helplesse pain.
35
This dull cold earth with standing water froze;
At ease he lies to coyn pretence for ease;
His soul like Ahaz diall, where it goes
Not forward, poasteth backward ten degrees:
In’s couch he’s pliant
wax for fiends to seal;
He never sweats, but in
his bed, or meal:
He’d rather steal then work, and beg then strive
to
steal.
36
All opposite, though he his brother were,
Was Chaunus,
that too high himself esteem’d:
All things he undertook, nor could he fear
His power too weak, or boasted strength
misdeem’d,
With his own praise
like windie bladder blown:
His eyes too little, or
too much is own;
For known
to all men weak, was to himself unknown.
37
Fondly himself with praising he disprais’d,
Vaunting his deeds and worth with idle breath;
So raz’d himself, what he himself had rais’d:
On’s shield a boy threatens high Phoebus
death,
Aiming his arrow at his
purest light;
But soon the thinne
reed, fir’d with lightning
bright,
Fell idlely on the strond: his word, Yet high,
and
right.
38
Next rave Philotimus
in poast did ride:
Like rising ladders was his climbing minde;
His high-flown thoughts had wings of courtly pride,
Which by foul rise to greatest height enclin’d;
His heart aspiring
swell’d untill it burst:
But when he gain’d the
top, which spite accurst
Down would he fling the steps by which he
clamb’red
first.
39
His head’s a shop furnisht with
looms of state:
His brain the weaver, thoughts are shuttles light,
With which in spite of heav’n he weaves his fate;
Honour his web: thus works he day and night,
Till fates cut off his
threed; so heapeth sinnes
And plagues, nor once
enjoyes the place he winnes;
But where his old race ends, there his new race
begins.
40
Ah silly man, who dream’st that
honour stands
In ruling others, not thy self! thy slaves
Serve thee, and thou thy slaves; in iron bands
Thy servile spirit prest with wilde passions raves.
Would’st thou live
honour’d? clip ambitions
wing;
To reasons yoke thy
furious passions bring.
Thrice noble is the man, who of himself is King.
41
Upon his shield was fram’d that vent’rous lad,
That durst assay the Sunnes bright-flaming team;
Spite of his feeble hands, the horses mad
Fling down on burning earth the scorching beam;
So made the flame in
which himself was fir’d;
The world the bonefire
was, where he expir’d:
His motto written thus, Yet had what he desir’d.
42
But Atimus,
a carelesse idle swain,
Though Glory off’red him her sweet embrace,
And fair Occasion with little pain
Reacht him her ivory hand, yet (lozel base!)
Rather his way, and her
fair self declin’d;
Well did he thence
prove his degenerous minde:
Base were his restie thoughts, base was his
dunghill
kinde.
43
And now by force dragg’d from the
monkish cell,
(Where teeth he onely us’d, nor hands, nor brains,
But in smooth streams swam down through ease to
hell;
His work to eat, drink, speal, and purge his reins)
He left his heart
behinde him with his feast:
His target with a flying
dart was drest,
Poasting unto his mark: the word, I move to rest.
44
Next Colax
all his words with sugar spices;
His servile tongue, base slave to greatnesse name,
Runnes nimble descant on the plainest vices;
He lets his tongue to sinne, takes rent of shame:
His temp’ring lies,
porter to th’ eare resides,
Like Indian apple, which
with painted sides,
More dangerous within his lurking poyson hides.
45
So Echo, to the voice her voice conforming,
From hollow breast for one will two repay;
So, like the rock it holds, it self transforming,
That subtil fish hunts for her heedlesse prey:
So crafty fowlers with
their fair deceits
Allure the hungrie bird;
so fisher waits
To bait himself with fish, his hook and fish with
baits.
46
His art is but to hide, not heal a sore,
To nourish pride, to strangle conscience;
To drain the rich, his own drie pits to store,
To spoil the precious soul, to please vile sense:
A carrion crow he is, a
gaping grave,
The rich coats moth, the
courts bane, trenchers
slave;
Sinnes & hells winning baud, the devils
fact’ring
knave.
47
A mist he casts before his patrons sight,
That blackest vices never once appeare;
But greater then it is, seems vertues light;
His Lords displeasure is his onely fear:
His clawing lies,
tickling the senses frail
To death, make open way
where force would fail.
Lesse hurts the lions paw, then foxes softest
tail.
48
His arms with hundred tongues were
poud’red gay,
(The mint of lies) gilt, fil’d, the sense to
please;
His sword which in his mouth close sheathed lay,
Sharper then death, and fram’d to kill with ease.
Ah cursed weapon, life
with pleasure spilling!
The Sardoin herb with
many branches filling
His shield, was his device: the word, I please
in
killing.
49
Base slave! how crawl’st thou from thy dunghill
nest,
Where thou wast hatcht by shame and beggerie,
And pearchest in the learn’d and noble breast?
Arts learn new art their
learning to adorn:
(Ah wretched mindes!) He is not nobly
born,
Nor learn’d, that doth not thy ignoble learning
scorn.
50
Close to him Pleasing went, with painted
face,
And Honour, by some hidden cunning made;
Not Honours self, but Honours
semblance
base,
For soon it vanisht like an emptie shade:
Behinde, his parents
duely him attend;
With them he forced is
his age to spend:
Shame his beginning was, and shame must be his end.
51
Next follow’d Dyscolus,
a froward wight;
His lips all swoln, and eyebrows ever bent,
With sootie locks, swart looks, and
scouling sight,
His face a tell-tale to his foul intent:
He nothing lik’t, or
prais’d; but reprehended
What every one beside
himself commended.
Humours of tongues impostum’d, purg’d with
shame, are mended.
52
His mouth a pois’nous quiver,
where he hides
Sharp venom’d arrows, which his bitter tongue
With squibs, carps, jests, unto their object
guides;
Nor fears he gods on earth, or heav’n to wrong:
Upon his shield was
fairly drawn to sight
A raging dog, foaming
out wrath and spite:
The word to his device, Impartiall all I bite.
53
Geloios
next ensu’d, a merrie Greek,
Whose life was laughter vain, and
mirth misplac’t;
His speeches broad, to shame the modest cheek;
Ne car’d he whom, or when, or how disgrac’t.
Salt round about he
flung upon the sand;
If in his way his friend
or father stand,
His father & his friend he spreads with
carelesse
hand.
54
His foul jests steep’d and drown’d
in laughter vain,
And rotten speech, (ah!) was not mirth, but
madnesse:
His armour crackling thorns all flaming stain
With golden fires, (embleme of foppish gladnesse)
Upon his shield two
laughing fools you see,
(In number he the third,
first in degree)
At which himself would laugh, and fleer: his word,
We three.
55
And after, Agrios,
a sullen swain,
All mirth that in himself and others hated;
Dull, dead, and leaden was his cheerlesse vein:
His weary sense he never recreated;
And now he marcht as if
he somewhat dream’d:
All honest joy but
madnesse he estemm’d,
Refreshings idlenesse, but sport he folly deem’d.
56
In’s arms his minde the workman fit exprest,
Which all with quenched lamps, but smoking yet,
And foully stinking, were full queintly drest;
To blinde, not light the eyes, to choke, not heat:
Upon his shield an heap
of fennie mire
In flagges and turfs
(with sunnes yet never drier)
Did smoth’ring lie, not burn: his word, Smoke
without fire.
57
Last Impudence, whose
never-changing face
Knew but one colour; with some brasse-brow’d lie,
And laughing loud she drowns her just disgrace:
About her all the fiends in armies flie:
Her feather’d beaver
sidelong cockt, in guise
Of roaring boyes; set
look with fixed eyes
Out-looks all shamefac’t forms, all modestie
defies.
58
And as her thoughts, so arms all
black as hell:
Her brasen shield two sable dogs adorn,
Who each at other stare, and snarle, and swell:
Beneath the word was set, All change I scorn.
But if I all this rout
and foul array
Should muster up, and
place in battle ray,
Too long your selves & flocks my tedious song
would stay.
59
The aged day growes dimme, and
homeward calls:
The parting Sunne (mans state describing well)
Falls when he rises, rises when he falls:
So we by falling rose, and rising fell.
The shadie cloud of
night ‘gins softly creep,
And all our world with
sable tincture steep:
Home now ye shepherd-swains; home now my loved
sheep.
CANT IX.
THe bridegroome Sunne, who late the
Earth had spous’d,
Leaves his star-chamber; early in the East
He shook his sparkling locks, head lively rouz’d,
While Morn his couch with blushing roses drest;
His shines the Earth
soon latcht to gild her
flowers:
Phosphor his
gold-fleec’t drove folds in
their bowers,
Which all the night had graz’d about th’ Olympick
towers.
2
The cheerfull Lark, mounting from early bed,
With sweet salutes awakes the drowsie light;
The earth she left, and up to heav’n is fled;
There chants her Makers praises out of sight:
Earth seems a molehill,
men but ants to be;
Teaching proud men, that
soar to high degree,
The farther up they climbe, the lesse they seem,
and
see.
3
The shepherds met, and Thomalin began;
Young Thomalin, whose notes and silver
string
Silence the rising Lark, and falling Swan:
Come Thirsil, end thy lay, and cheerly
sing:
Hear’st how the Larks
give welcome to the day,
Temp’ring their sweetest
notes unto thy lay?
Up then, thou loved swain; why dost thou longer
stay?
4
Well sett’st thou (friend) the Lark
before mine eyes,
Much easier to heare then imitate:
Her wings lift up her notes to loftie skies;
But me a leaden sleep, and earthly state
Down to the centre ties
with captive string:
Well might I follow here
her note and wing;
Singing she loftie mounts: ah! mounting I should
sing.
5
Oh thou dread King of that heroick band,
Which by thy power beats back these hellish
sprites,
Rescuing this State from death and base command;
Tell me, (dread King) what are those warlike
Knights?
What force? what arms?
where lies their strengths
increase,
That though so few in
number, never cease
To keep this sieged town ‘gainst numbers
numberlesse?
6
The first Commanders in this holy train,
Leaders to all the rest, an ancient pair;
Long since sure linkt in wedlocks sweetest chain;
His name Spiritto, she Urania
fair:
Fair had she been, and
full of heav’nly grace,
And he in youth a
mightie warrier was,
Both now more fair, & strong; which prov’d
their heav’nly race.
7
His arms with flaming tongues all
sparkled bright,
Bright flaming tongues, in divers sections parted;
His piercing sword, edg’d with their firy light,
‘Twixt bones and marrow, soul and spirit disparted:
Upon his shield was
drawn a glorious Dove,
‘Gainst whom the
proudest Eagle dares not move;
Glitt’ring in beams: his word, Conqu’ring by
peace and love.
8
But she Amazon-like in azure arms,
Silver’d with starres, and gilt with sunnie rayes,
Her mighty Spouse in fight and fierce alarms
Attends, and equals in these bloudie frayes;
And on her shield an
heav’nly globe (displaying
The constellations lower
bodies swaying,
Sway’d by the higher) she bore: her word, I
rule obeying.
9
About them swarm’d their fruitfull progenie;
An heav’nly off-spring of an heav’nly bed:
Well mought you in their looks his stoutnesse see
With her sweet graces lovely tempered.
Fit youth they seem’d to
play in Princes hall,
(But ah long since they
thence were banisht all)
Or shine in glitt’ring arms, when need fierce
warre
doth call.
10
The first in order (nor in worth the
last)
Is Knowledge, drawn from peace and Muses
spring;
Where shaded in fair Sinaies groves, his
taste
He feasts with words and works of heav’nly King;
But now to bloudy field
is fully bent:
Yet still he seem’d to
study as he went:
His arms cut all in books; strong shield slight
papers lent.
11
His glitt’ring armour shin’d like burning day,
Garnisht with golden Sunnes, and radiant flowers;
Which turn their bending heads to Phoebus
ray,
And when he falls, shut up their leavie bowers:
Upon his shield the
silver Moon did bend
Her horned bow, and
round her arrows spend:
His word in silver wrote, I borrow what I lend.
12
All that he saw, all that he heard, were books,
In which he read and learn’d his Makers will:
Most on his word, but much on heav’n he looks,
And thence admires with praise the workmans skill.
Close to him went
still-musing Contemplation,
That made good use of
ills by meditation;
So to him ill it self was good by strange mutation.
13
And Care, who never from his sides would
part,
Of knowledge oft the waies and means enquiring,
To practice what he learnt from holy art;
And oft with tears, and oft with sighs desiring
Aid from that Soveraigne
Guide, whose wayes so
steep,
Though fain he would,
yet weak he could not keep:
But when he could not go, yet forward would he
creep.
14
Next Tapinus,
whose sweet, though lowly grace
All other higher then himself esteem’d;
He in himself priz’d things as mean and base,
Which yet in others great and glorious seem’d:
All ill due debt, good
undeserv’d he thought;
His heart a low-rooft
house, but sweetly wroght,
Where God himself would dwell, though he it dearly
bought.
15
Honour he shunnes, yet is the way
unto him;
As hell, he hates advancement wonne
with bribes;
But publick place and charge are forc’t to wooe
him;
He good to grace, ill to desert ascribes:
Him (as his Lord)
contents a lowly room,
Whose first house was
the blessed Virgins wombe,
The next a cratch, the third a crosse, the fourth
a
tombe.
16
So choicest drugs in meanest shrubs are found;
So precious gold in deepest centre dwells:
So sweetest violets trail on lowly ground;
So richest pearls ly clos’d in vilenst shells:
So lowest dales we let
and highest rates;
So creeping strawberries
yeeld daintiest cates.
The Highest highly loves the low, the loftie hates.
17
Upon his shield was drawn that Shepherd lad,
Who with a sling threw down fain Israels
fears;
And in his hand his spoils, and trophies glad,
The Monsters sword and head, he bravely bears:
Plain in his lovely face
you might behold
A little blushing
meeknesse met with courage bold:
Little, not little worth, was fairly wrote
in
gold.
18
With him his kinsman both in birth and name,
Obedience, taught by many bitter showers
In humble bonds his passions proud to tame,
And low submit unto the higher powers:
But yet no servile yoke
his forehead brands;
For ti’d in such an holy
service bands,
In this obedience rules, and serving thus commands.
19
By them went Fido,
Marshal of the field:
Weak was his mother, when she gave
him day;
And he at first a sick and weakly
childe,
As e’re with tears welcom’d the
sunnie ray:
Yet when more yeares
afford more
growth, & might,
A champion stout he was,
and
puissant Knight,
As ever came in field, or shone in
armour bright.
20
So may we see a little lionet,
When newly whelpt, a weak and tender thing,
Despis’d by every beast; but waxen great,
When fuller times full strength and courage bring,
The beasts all crouching
low, their King adore,
And dare not see what
they contemn’d before:
The trembling forrest quakes at his affrighting
roar.
21
Mountains he flings in seas with mighty hand;
Stops, and turns back the Sunnes impetuous course;
Nature breaks natures laws at his command;
No force of hell or heav’n withstands his force:
Events to come yet many
ages hence
He present makes, by
wondrous prescience;
Proving the senses blinde, by being blinde to
sense.
22
His sky-like arms, di’d all in blue and white,
And set with golden starres that flamed wide;
His shield invisible to mortall sight,
Yet he upon it easily descri’d
The lively semblance of
his dying Lord;
Whose bleeding side with
wicket steel was gor’d,
Which to his fainting spirits new courage would
afford.
23
Strange was the force of that enchanted shield,
Which highest powers to it from heav’n impart;
For who could bear it well, and rightly wield,
It sav’d from sword, and spear, and poison’d
dart:
Well might he slip, but
yet not wholly fall:
No finall losse his
courage might appall;
Growing more sound by wounds, and rising by his
fall.
24
So some have feign’d that Tellus
giant sonne
Drew many new-born lives from his dead mother;
Another rose as soon as one was done,
And twentie lost, yet still remain’d another:
For when he fell, and
kist the barren heath,
His parent straight
inspir’d successive breath;
And though her self was dead, yet ransom’d him
from
death.
25
With him his Nurse went, carefull Acoe,
Whose hands first from his mothers wombe did take
him,
And ever since have foster’d tenderly:
She never might, she never would forsake him;
And he her lov’d again
with mutuall band:
For by her needful help
he oft did stand,
When else he soon would fail, and fall in foemens
hand.
26
With both sweet Meditation ever pac’t,
His Nurses daughter, and his Foster-sister:
Deare as his soul he in his soul her plac’t,
And oft embrac’t, and oft by stealth he kist her:
For she had taught him
by her silent talk
To tread the safe, and
dangerous wayes to balk;
And brought his God with him, him with his God to
walk.
27
Behinde him Penitence did sadly go,
Whose cloudie dropping eyes were ever raining;
Her swelling tears, which ev’n in ebbing flow,
Furrow her cheek, the sinfull puddles draining:
Much seem’d she in her
pensive thought molested,
And much the mocking
world her soul infested;
More she the hatefull world, and most her self
detested.
28
She was the object of lewd mens disgrace,
The squint-ey’d, wrie-mouth’d scoffe of carnall
hearts;
Yet smiling heav’n delights to kisse her face,
And with his bloud God bathes her painfull smarts:
Afflictions iron flail
her soul had thrasht;
Sharp Circumcisions
knife her heart had
slasht;
Yet it was angels wine, which in her eyes was
masht.
29
With her a troop of mournfull grooms abiding,
Help with their sullen blacks their Mistresse wo;
Amendment still (but still his own faults)
chiding,
And Penance arm’d with smarting whips did
go:
Then sad Remorse
came sighing all the way;
Last Satisfaction,
giving all away:
Much surely did he owe, much more he would repay.
30
Next went Elpinus,
clad in skie-like blue;
And through his arms few starres did seem to peep,
Which there the workmans hand so finely drew,
That rockt in clouds they softly seem’d to sleep:
His rugged shield was
like a rockie mold,
On which an anchour bit
with surest
hold:
I hold by being held, was written round in
gold.
31
Nothing so cheerfull was his thoughtfull face,
As was his brother Fido’s: Fear seem’d
dwell
Close by his heart; his colour chang’d apace,
And went, and came, that sure all was not well:
Therefore a comely Maid
did oft sustain
His fainting steps, and
fleeting life maintain:
Pollicita
she hight, which ne’re could lie or feigne.
32
Next to Elpinus marcht his brother Love;
Not that great Love which cloth’d his Godhead
bright
With rags of flesh, and now again above
Hath drest his flesh in heav’ns eternall light;
Much lesse the brat of
that false Cyprian
dame,
Begot by froth, and fire
in bed of shame,
And now burns idle hearts swelt’ring in lustfull
flame:
33
But this from heav’n brings his immortall race,
And nurst by Gratitude; whose carefull arms
Long held, and hold him still in kinde embrace:
But train’d to daily warres, and fierce alarms,
He grew to wondrous
strength, and beautie rare:
Next that God-Love, from
whom his off-springs are,
No match in earth or heav’n may with this Love
compare.
34
His Page, who from his side might never move,
Remembrance, on him waits; in books reciting
The famous passions of that highest Love,
His burning zeal to greater flames exciting:
Deep would he sigh, and
seem empassion’d sore,
And oft with tears his
backward heart deplore,
That loving all he could, he lov’d that Love no
more.
35
Yet sure he truly lov’d, and
honour’d deare
That glorious name; for when, or where he spi’d
Wrong’d, or in hellish speech blasphem’d did
heare,
Boldly the rash blasphemer he defi’d,
And forc’t him eat the
words he foully spake:
But if for him he grief
or death did take,
That grief he counted joy, and death life for his
sake.
36
His glitt’ring arms, drest all with firie hearts,
Seem’d burn in chaste desire, and heav’nly flame:
And on his shield kinde Jonathan imparts
To his souls friend his robes, and princely name
And kingly throne, which
mortals so adore:
And round about was writ
in golden ore,
Well might he give him all, that gave his life
before.
37
These led the Vantguard; and an
hundred moe
Fill’d up the emptie ranks with
ord’red train:
But first in middle ward did justly go
In goodly arms a fresh and lovely Swain,
Vaunting himself Loves
twin, but younger
brother:
Well mought it be; for
ev’n their very mother
With pleasing errour oft mistook the one for th’
other.
38
As when fair Paris gave that golden ball,
A thousand doubts ranne in his stagg’ring breast:
All lik’d him well, fain would he give it all;
Each better seems, and still the last seems best:
Doubts ever new his
reaching hand deferr’d;
The more he looks, the
more his judgement err’d:
So she first this, then that, then none, then both
preferr’d.
39
Like them, their armour seem’d full
neare of kinne:
In this they onely differ; th’ elder bent
His higher soul to heav’n, the younger Twinne
‘Mong mortals here his love and kindenesse spent;
Teaching strange
alchymie, to get a living
By selling land, and to
grow rich by giving;
By emptying filling bags, so heav’n by earth
atchieving.
40
About him troop the poore with num’rous trains,
Whom he with tender care, and large expence,
With kindest words, and succour entertains;
Ne looks for thanks, or thinks of recompence:
His wardrobe serves to
cloath the naked side,
And shamefull parts of
bared bodies hide;
If other cloaths he lackt, his own he would divide.
41
To rogues his gate was shut; but open lay,
Kindely the weary traveller inviting:
Oft therefore Angels, hid in mortall clay,
And God himself in his free roofs delighting,
Lowly to visit him would
not disdain,
And in his narrow cabin
oft remain,
Whom heav’n, & earth, & all the world
cannot contain.
42
His table still was fill’d with wholesome meat,
Not to provoke, but quiet appetite;
And round about the hungry freely eat,
With plenteous cates cheering their feeble sprite:
Their earnest vows broke
open heav’ns wide doore,
That not in vain sweet
Plentie evermore
With gracious eye looks down upon his blessed
store.
43
Behinde attend him in an uncouth
wise
A troop with little caps, and shaved head;
Such whilome was infranched bondmens guise,
New freed from cruell masters servile dread:
These had he lately
bought from captive chain;
Hence they his triumph
sing with joyfull strain,
And on his head due praise and thousand blessings
rain.
44
Her was a father to the fatherlesse,
To widows he suppli’d an husbands care;
Nor would he heap up woe to their distresse,
Or by a Guardians name their state impair;
But rescue them from
strong oppressours might:
Nor doth he weight the
great mans heavie spight.
Who fears the highest Judge, needs fear no
mortal
wight.
45
Once every week he on his progresse went,
The sick to visit, and those meager swains,
Which all their weary life in darknesse spent,
Clogg’d with cold iron, prest with heavy chains:
He hoords not wealth for
his loose heir to spend
it,
But with a willing hand
doth well expend it.
Good then is onely good, when to our God we
lend
it.
46
And when the dead by cruell tyrants spight
Lie out to rav’nous birds and beasts expos’d,
His yearnfull heart pitying that wretched sight,
In seemly graves their weary flesh enclos’d,
And strew’d with dainty
flowers the lowly herse;
Then all alone the last
words did rehearse,
Bidding them softly sleep in his sad sighing verse.
47
So once that royall Maid
fierce Thebes beguil’d,
Though wilfull Creon proudly did forbid
her;
Her brother, from his home and tombe exil’d,
(While willing night in darknesse safely hid her)
She lowly laid in earths
all-covering shade:
Her dainty hands (not
us’d to such a trade)
She with a mattock toils, and with a weary spade.
48
Yet feels she neither sweat, nor irksome pain,
Till now his grave was fully finished;
Then on his wounds her cloudy eyes ‘gin rain,
To wash the guilt painted in bloudy red:
And falling down upon
his gored side,
With hundred varied
plaints she often cri’d,
Oh had I di’d for thee, or with the might have
di’d!
49
Ay me! my ever wrong’d, and banisht brother,
How can I fitly thy hard fate deplore,
Or in my breast so just complainings smother?
To thy sad chance what can be added more?
Exile thy home, thy home
a tombe thee gave:
Oh no; such little room
thou must not have,
But for thy banisht bones I (wretch) must steal a
grave.
50
But whither, wofull Maid, have thy
complaints
With fellow passion drawn my feeling mone?
But thus this Love deals with those
murd’red
Saints;
Weeps with the sad, and sighs with those that
grone.
But now in that beech
grove we’l safely play,
And in those shadows
mock the boyling ray;
Which yet increases more with the decreasing day.
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