A POETS VISION, AND A PRINCES GLORIE.
WHEN Hesperus, the Harbinger of night,
Had iustly ordred eu'rie burning light,
My solitary chamber I forsooke,
And musing went vnto a pleasant brooke;
Where, sitting downe vpon a hillocke by,
To steale delight with a more quiet eye,
Soft drizling droppes vpon my face did fall,
Which sweeter were then that wee Nectar call.
That tree that but one little droppe receiues,
Though bare before, was spangled all with leaues,
The ground where scarce before a grasse was seene,
Reuiu'd with this, was mantled o're with greene.
Long look't I not before my wondring eyes
Were vnto Morpheus made a willing prize:
[Page] Such shapes of ioy into each sence did creepe,
As rock'd them all into a heauenly sleepe.
For had mine eyes a little longer seene,
With extreame rapture I had sencelesse beene,
Sith nothing sooner can the sence destroy,
Then taken by the eye too much of ioy.
Scarce had the pale God with his sleepie dart
Strooke through mine eyes my soft slumbering hart,
When musique sweeter I may say right well,
Then that which brought Eurydice from hell,
Did all the powers in me possesse so whole,
That through mine eares it stole away my soule;
To which a Ladie singing heare I might,
The burthen of her song I pray thee write.
VVhere-with I wak'd, and seeing nought, concluded
My senses all were meerely but deluded:
Or else the gods to banquet now addrest,
Apollo gaue them musick to their feast.
[Page] No creature sawe I yet, till looking round,
Behinde me iust vpon the verdant ground
I spide a Ladie sit, but such an one,
As well might make Ioue to forsake his throne,
And vtterly renounce his sisters bed,
And all his want on trickes with Ganymed.
Her garments all were white, her haire hung downe,
Vpon her head she wore a Laurel Crowne,
An Iu'rie Lute she with one hand did twine,
And with the other Musick plaid diuine.
Her Lute, to glut mine eares with different choyce,
She did accord with her melodious voice.
After her song she often had repeated,
VVith this demaund I fairely her intreated;
Goddesse (saide I) for by thy heauenly face,
I ghesse thou sprung'st not from a mortall race,
Those lookes of thine serue as a warrant good,
That thou no mixture hadst of humane blood,
[Page] Neuer could Nature, of her selfe, bring forth
A creature of such rare and Princely worth.
Of fauour shewe to me, why at this time,
Especially vnder this haplesse clime,
Where neuer ioy yet peeped from the earth,
But it was stifled fore it came to birth,
Delight so prodigall it selfe doth wast,
Spending in minutes that should ages last,
As of necessitie it must be shone,
Yet by extreames, showes it would faine be gone?
Is Earth ascended into Heauens place?
Or is't your beautie doth enforce this grace?
Is Heaven descended to the lowest Earth?
Or is't your Musicke that doth cause this Mirth?
Or is't a Dreame, and doe I nothing see,
That sweetely thus colludes my phantasie?
Or if none of these, what it then should bee,
I pray thee, gentle Ladie, tell to mee?
[Page] Pausing a while, and looking in my face,
Thus she bespake me with a modest grace;
Vainly to boast of my descent or blood,
VVould argue I did feare my proper good.
For who his blood only and kin commends,
Commends nought of his owne, but of his frends.
Yet, were I so dispos'd my birth to prooue,
I could deriue my selfe from highest Ioue:
And I could say, and yet but truely say,
My mother was the wise Mnemosyne;
Or I could call my name Calliope,
And tell how once I with Apollo lay,
From whose mixt pleasures, being then but young,
The Thracian Orpheus naturally sprung.
But farewell this: my purpose is to showe
From whence my comming hither now doth flowe.
Vertue confined in a narrowe roome,
Farre in the North, where she doth only bloome,
[Page] (Where had she not contenting fauour seene,
From all the world she had exiled beene,
And long ere this had lost her glorious name,
Had she not there reuiu'd her dying fame.
O worthie place! thy Epethite hence-forth
Be sung by Poets thus; The Vertuous North.)
Now breaking forth into a larger State,
Which of all Lands is made most fortunate,
Giues me the matter of this new delight,
And doth my soule vnto this ioy excite,
That houres vnnumbred hath beene lockt from light,
And puzzled laine in darke obliuious night.
Grosse Nature that hath many yeares laine sicke
(First wounded with leud vices stinging pricke)
On the corrupted bed of vaine desire,
Without all shewe of hope, euer t'aspire,
To blest fruition of her selfe, is now
(The thought whereof would smooth the agedst brow)
[Page] Cleane purged of her filth, from error led,
As till this houre she were not perfect bred,
But ages infinite had laine in earth,
And by no meanes before could haue her birth,
Euen as a Hauke new taken from the Mew
Hath cast her old traine, and resum'd a new:
So Nature now doth with fresh wings aspire,
Whose old ones all were tainted o're with mire.
Time, that before was baited with deceat,
In the foule riuer of a forced sweate,
To make simplicitie the sooner bite,
That had no eyes, but bended on delite,
(Who would not liue in blinde credulitie,
Rather then see what he would feare to see?)
Is now full gorg'd with honorable zeale,
Which lately proofe did to the world reueale.
Now yet at last returned are those daies,
That ancient Poets long agoe did praise,
[Page] Which haue so many years beene kept from breath,
Bard vp within the Iron caue of death,
Which eating time, consenting with the Fates,
Hath now enlarg'd, by bursting ope the gates.
For ioy whereof, could but this dumbe earth speake,
She would into an exultation breake:
Yet, for she wants a tongue, to shew her pleasure
She is inuested with her richest treasure.
Erect thy face, and thou shalt see on high
The starres do daunce proud Galliardes in the skie,
Or else they all are forced thus to moue,
Vnder the weight of Ioue dauncing aboue.
Now Mercurie, heauens Orator alone,
Perswades his Father leaue his sacred throne,
And sweetly tels him with such mouing grace,
He must descend vnto a better place:
Which Ioue beleeuing, in Heauen makes a dearth,
And Tuns of Nectar tumbles on the earth,
[Page] As if he would vnfurnish heauen quite,
And frame another on this earth to night.
Now flattring Pride, and Ostentation vaine,
Hath (Peacocke-like) pull'd in her painted traine.
Couetousnesse is chang'd, yet keepes her name,
Where she crau'd wealth, she onely craues but fame.
Gluttonie feedes slightly vpon her owne,
That was before with others cost full blowne.
Drunkennesse, that aboue the rest excell'd,
Is now vnto Sobrietie compell'd.
Sloath, that till now lodg'd in her sleepie caue,
By valour shewes she seekes an honour'd graue.
Incontinence, her fires are somewhat drencht,
But neuer will be altogether quencht.
Black vile betraying Policie is dead,
And meager Enuie hangeth downe her head.
And wheresoere a vice hath raigned long,
In that same place there is a vertue sprong.
[Page] Now shall those young and vertuous plants arise,
Which were destroyed by loathsom pois'nous eyes.
Here Poets might extoll their excellence,
If Barbarisme haue not exil'd them hence,
If other Landes inioy not their blest sight,
Whome barking ignorance hath put to flight,
Their long-sheath'd Pens they might so exercise,
As they should sit aboue the reach of eyes,
And looking downe vpon their natiue earth,
Should grieue to thinke they had so lowe a birth.
Yet I haue one thing left surmounts the rest,
VVhich tunes such Musick in my gladsome brest,
That sorrowe cannot my least thought annoy,
Each roome in me is so fill'd vp with ioy;
Nor can I tell it with my breaths faint story,
I am so swell'd vp with immortall glorie.
Can sence (said I) more of delight yet taste,
Then that which hath thy lips alreadie past?
[Page] Thou tellest wonders, and I feare this night,
My greedie eares will surfet on delight.
Yet if vnspoken ioy doe liue in thee,
Of it (in kindnesse) let me sharer be,
Where-with to me she did her white hand reach,
And sweetely thus continued on her speach.
In Boeotia, my sisters eight and I,
Which once (said she) were eleuated high,
And well esteem'd in former ages past,
Vntill these dead corrupted times came last,
And eu'ry yeare to vs had tribute paide,
By choycest wits, for lending them our aide,
Haue long in stead of tribute beene disgrac't,
And all our names from memory displac't.
For want whereof, we all were growne so poore,
That we could scarce keepe miserie from our doore.
The chiefest pay we had to set vs forth
In all our wants, came from the Princely North,
[Page] And some from hence, from worthie Delia's store,
From sweete Idaea, and from some fewe more:
All which so short of that we had before,
To those rich times so slender and so poore,
That with it we our selues could scarce sustaine,
Our number was so great, so small our gaine.
Others here are which with their railing Muse
Offend graue eares, and doe our names abuse
In bringing forth such Monsters to the light,
Whose ougly shapes doe terrifie our sight.
But why should such my peacefull gall excite?
Well they may barke, but they shall neuer bite.
The whips are made shal yerk them from their places,
Whose roomes shall be adorn'd with better Graces.
But now, ôeuer blest, eternall sweete!
The Lawrell and a triple Crowne doth meete.
Now commeth in our long-detained Spring,
Reduced back by a victorious King,
[Page] VVhose triple Crowne, to adde more glorious praise,
Is triply Crowned with a triple Bayes,
Which is the richest Crowne a King can haue,
It keepes him from obliuion of the graue;
Where, after some expence of running time,
Vpon whose backe doth dissolution clime,
His other Crowne, that guilded but the eye,
VVill quickly fade, when fadeth Maiestie.
But this so long as Heauen lends a breath,
Shall freshly spring in spite of Fate and death.
To be a Prince it is an honour'd thing,
Yet eu'ry Poet to himselfe's a King.
But where in one they both commixed be,
He then is equall with a Deitie.
This caus'd vs all to leaue our Helicon,
Our double-topped hill, our Cithaeron,
That were nighe ruinated with disgrace,
And hether come to a more worthy place,
[Page] VVhere on the top of an Imperious Throne,
We will build vp another Helicon.
The Hilles we left were all compos'd of mould,
But we will here erect a hill of gold,
VVhich, where it stands, shall to such height arise,
As it shal keepe the Starres from mortal eyes:
And by these names it shall be call'd aboue,
The Muses Tent, the golden walke of Ioue.
From all my sisters haue I stolne away,
Which maruell much of my so long a stay,
To bring these glorious tidings vnto thee,
The which haue infinitely rauish'd mee,
That if thou couetst to haue thy name nere die,
But wrap thy memorie in eternitie,
Past depriuation of corrupting dust,
When thou into thy latest bed art thrust,
This place can yeeld thee such Promethean fires,
As shall giue answere to thy blest desires.
[Page] Therefore no longer hide thy Muse from light,
But pray thee, pray thee, take thy pen and write.
Nor thinke I would thus much to thee impart,
But that I knowe thou dost affect this Art.
Alas (said I) should I denie my loue.
Of ignorance you might me then reprooue:
Yet (haplesse I) nothing in me hath place
More then my loue, with which I can it grace.
Or if there were, I should not trace this way,
For that I grieuing see how eu'ry day
New swarmes of vertue-killing Drones appeare,
Which vilely so vntune the gen'rall eare
With harsh discording sounds, as who now sings,
(Although his lines were sweeter then the strings
That play the morning vp) gets no respect,
And is not heard, or heard but with neglect;
But sooner farre may moue the stones to heare,
Then carelesse men, who onely bodies beare
[Page] Without true soules: for had they soules, they would
VVith all their nerues the life of soule vphold,
In giuing nutriment to Artes, from whence
Man wholly doth deriue his excellence.
These be the Hydra's of this age, the Apes,
The monsters, rowl'd vp in mens pleasing shapes,
Haue so infected with their tainted blood
The nourishing fruits, which should feede the good,
That vndeseruingly they now must stand
Vnder the censure of too rough a hand,
And for whole yeares of nights in labour spent,
To giue the enuious idle world content,
Must not for all those nights receiue more right
Then he whose sleepie Muse nere saw the night.
Which makes them chuse to be with ease infected,
Rather then write, and haue their workes neglected.
Where, might not eu'rie Cuckowe haue accesse,
And bring vnsau'rie writings to the Presse,
[Page] To dull the eares of men, alreadie slaine
With poys'nous swellings of their rotten braine,
VVhat throngs of learned soules would then aspire,
Toucht with this sacred and celestiall fire?
How manie would by this their heauenly skill,
(Hauing abilitie as great as will)
Infinitely vpraise themselues from earth,
Making their beings farre higher then their birth?
But now they hidden lye from light exempt,
Rak'd vp within the ashes of contempt.
This maketh me that am with skill vnblest,
To loue this Arte, but dare not ranke the best
With childish issue of my fainter Muse,
As poore ambitious ignorantes doevse.
Besides, what slender glorie can ensue
His Muse, whereof the world tooke neuer viewe?
Fie fie (said she) thou art too Criticall,
And dost consent vnto thine owne dread fall.
[Page] Admit thy worth were vnder the degree
Of toleration, which I knowe not to bee,
Suppose that millions doe deserue more praise,
Wilt thou for this forsake Apollos baies?
O doe not so! thy Muse may once be blest,
And gently fost'red in a Kingly brest.
VVhat though the world sawe neuer line of thine?
Nere can thy Muse haue a birth more diuine.
And where these ougly imitating Apes
Which (as thou saist) doe but vsurpe mens shapes,
Haue so defil'd this Land, the time's now come,
Those bawling fooles shall quite be striken dombe,
Or should they talke, what can it hurt the wise?
It is well knowne they but Idolatrise.
For when true iudgement shall their errors find,
Twill adde more honour to the vertuous mind.
Sweete Philomela that sings in the spring,
Would lose some grace, did not the Cuckowe sing.
[Page] Therefore no longer hide thy Muse from light,
But pray thee, pray thee, take thy pen and write.
With these enforcements was I wonne at length,
Conuinced wholy by her powrefull strength,
And newe inspired with a sacred light,
Agree'd to write what I had seene to night,
And if this prosper but successefullie,
I will herein my further fortunes trie.
FINIS.