ODCOMBS Complaint: OR CORIATS funerall Epicedium: or Death-song, vpon his late reported drowning. WITH His Epitaph in the Barmuda, and Utopian tongues. And translated into English by Iohn Taylor.
Printed for merrie recreation, and are to be told at the salutation in Vtopia. 1613.
The Authour in his owne defence.
IF any where my lines do fall out lame,
I made them so, in merriment and game:
For, be they wide, or side, or long, or short,
All's one to me, I writ them but in sport;
Yet I would haue the Reader thus much know [...]
That when I list my simple skill to show
In poesie, I could both read and spell:
I know my Dactils, and my Spondees well;
My true proportion, & my equal measure,
What accent must bee short, and what at leasur [...]
How to transpose my words frō place, to plac [...]
To giue my poesie the greater grace.
Either in Pastorall or Comick straine,
In Tragedy, or any other vaine,
[Page] [...]n nipping Satyrs, or in Epigrams,
[...]n Odes, in Elegies, or Anagrams,
[...]n eare-bewitching rare Hexameters,
Or in Iambicks, or Pentameters:
[...] know these like a Sculler not a Scholler,
And therefore Poet, pray asswage your coller.
[...]f as theese in writing you enuy me,
Before you iudge me do your worst and try me.
To the Mirror of Time, the most refulgent, splendidious reflecting Court Animal, Don Archibald Armstrong: Great M. Comptroller, Commander, and Countermander of mirth, alacrity, sport, and ridiculous confabulations, in this septentrionall, or Westerne Monarchie of Magna Britannia. Your poore and daily Orator, IOHN TAILOR, wisheth increase of your wisdome, in your owne person, and that your eminence and spirit, may be infused into the bosoms of most mens heires, that esteem more of Wealth, then of WISDOME.
RIght worthie worthlesse Patron, the daies and times being such, wherein wit goes a wool-gathering in a thredbare Iacket, and folly is well reputed amongst those that seeme wise, I, considering this, hauing but little wit, in a mad humour bad farewell it, and neuer so much as asked the [Page] question, with whether wilt thou? Being certainly perswaded that playing the foole will repaire the breaches which my vnhappy wit hath made in the Bulwarke of my reputation (as it hath done to many others) wherefore good sir (with) reuerence I hearing that so great a member in your esteemed quality, as Mr. Thomas Coriat of Odcomb, was drowned in his passage towards Constantinople; And knowing that many good & worthy writers haue graced his living trauels: So I haue made bold (vnder your great Patronage) to write his tragicall supposed Death-song, or Funerall Elegie; not knowing any man of that worthy worth (besides your selfe) to whom I might dedicate these sad Epicediums. Thus, not doubting of your acceptance and protection, I commit my selfe and my labours to your wonderfull wisedomes censure, alwayes hauing a poore Muse to trauell in your seruice.
To the Gentlemen Readers, that vnderstand A. B. from a Battledore.
NO sooner newe [...] of Coriats death was com,
But with the same, my Muse was strooken done:
For whiest he liued he was my Muses subiect
Her onely life, and sence sole pleasing obiect.
Odcombian, Graecian, Laune, Great Thom Asse
He being dead what life hath she alasse.
But yet I hope his death was false Report,
Or else twas rumord to beget some sport:
To try how his deare friends would take his death
And what rare Epicedium, they would make,
T' accompany his all-amented Herse,
In hobling io [...]ling, rumbling tumbling verse
Some smooth some harshe, some shorter and some long:
As sweet Melodious as Madg Howle [...] song:
But, when I saw that no man tooke in hand
To make the world his worth to vnderstand,
And of a Ganders quill I made a pen,
With which I wrote this following worke of woe
(Not caring much if he be dead or no:)
For, whilst his body did containe a life,
The rare it wits were at continuall strife,
Who should exceed each other in his glory,
But none but I haue writ His Tragick story.
If he be dead then farewell he: if not,
At his returne, his thankes shal be thy lot,
Meane time my muse doth like an humble Pleader
Intreat acceptance of the gentle Reader.
A sad, ioyfull, lamentable, delightfull merry-go-sorry Elegie or Funerall Poem vpon the supposed death of the famous Cosmographicall surueior, & Historiographical Relator M Thomas Coriat of Odcomb.
O For a rope of Onions from Saint Omers,
And for the Muse of golden tongued Homers
That I might write and weep, and weep and write,
Odcombian Coriats timeles last good-night
O were my wit inspird with Scoggins vaine,
Or that Wil Summers Ghost had seasd my braine,
Or Tarlton, Lanum, Sin [...]er, Kempe, and Pope,
Or she that danc't and tumbled on the rope,
Or Tilting Archy, that so brauely ran,
Against Don Phoeb [...]s knight, that wordy man.
O all you crew, inside pv de couloured garments.
Assist me to the heigth of your preferments:
[Page]And with your wits and spirits inspire my pate ful.
That I in Coriats praise be not ingratefull,
If euer age lamented losse of folly
If euer man had cause of Melancholly.
Then now's the time to waile his ruthles wracke,
And weepe in teares of Claret and of Sack.
ANd now, according to my weake inuention,
His wondrous worthles worthines ile mentiō
Yet to describe him as he is, or was,
The wit of Men or Monsters would surpasse
His head was a large powdring tub of phrases,
Whēce men wold pick delights, as boies pick daises
O head, no head, but blockhouse of feirce wars,
Where wit and learning were at daily Iars
Who should possesse the Mansion of his pate:
But at the last, to end this great debate:
Admired learning tooke his heads possession.
And turnd his wit a wandring in progression.
[Page]But Minyon Muse, hold, whether wilt thou goe,
Thinkst thou his rare anotomy to shew,
None borne a Christian, Turke, nor yet in Tartary
Can write each veyne, each sinew, and each artery.
His eyes and eares like broakers by extortion
Ingrost strange forraine manners and proportion
But what his eyes and eares did see or heare,
His tongue or pen dischargd the reckoning cleare,
That sure I thinke, he well could prooue by law,
He vttered more then ere he heard or saw.
His tongue and hands haue truly paid their score,
And freely spent what they receau [...]d and more,
But lord to see, how farre ore=shot am I
To wade thus deepe in his Anotomy.
What now he is Ile lightly ouerpasse,
Ile only write [...]n part, but what he was:
That as Grim Death our pleasures thus hath crost,
Tis good, because he's gon, to know whats lost.
HEe wa [...] the Imp, whilst he on earth suruiu'd,
From whom this west-worlds pastimes were deriu'd,
He was in Citty, Country, feild, and Court
The VVell of dry braind Iests, and Pump of sport,
He was the treasure-house of wrinkled laughter,
Where melancholy moodes are put to slaughter:
And in a word he was a man mongst many,
That neuer yet was parraleld by any,
Who now like human spite of wind and weather,
Will weare on earthlesse shirt 5. months together?
Who now to doe his natiue country grace,
Will for a Trophee execute his case?
VVho now will take the height of euery Gallowes?
Or who'le describe the signe of euery Alehowse?
Whether his Host were bigg, or short, or tall
And whether he did knock ere he did call:
The color of [...]i [...] Host and Hostesse hare?
VVhat he bought cheap, & what he paid for deare:
For vea [...]e or mutton what he paid a ioynt,
VVhere he sate down, and where be loosd a poynt.
[Page]Each Tower, each Turret, and each lofty steeple,
VVho now (like him) wil tel the vulgar people?
VVho now wil set a worke so many writers,
As he hath done in spight of his back-biters
VVith Panegericks, Anagrams Acrosticks,
T' emblazon him the cheife among fantasticks?
Alas not one not one aliue doth liue,
That to the world can such contentment giue,
Should Poets stretch their Muses on the rack,
And study till their percrianions crack.
Should [...]oot-back [...]t orting Trauelours intend,
To match his trauailes, all were to no end.
Let Poets write their best, and Trotters run,
They nere shall write nor run as he hath don.
But Neptune and great AEolus contending
Gainst one another all their forces bending,
VVhich of them soon'st should rob the happy earth
Of this rare man of men, this map of mirth.
[Page]And like two enuious great ambitious Lords,
They fell at deepe and dangerous discords;
The sea-god with his three tin'd angry Rod com,
And swore by Stix he would haue Tom of Odcomb.
With that, sterne Eole blew a boisterous blast,
And in his rage did gusts and tempests cast
In sh [...]ring voil [...]es at fierce Neptunes head:
Who like a valiant Champion scorning dread,
Gaue blow for blow with his commanding Mace,
And spitting seemes in spightfull AEols face,
That golden Titan hid his glistering ray,
As fearing to behold this horrid fray.
Cimerian darknes curtain'd all the world,
An Ebon Mantle ore the Globe was hurld,
The wallowing waues turn oild the restlesse ships,
Like School boies shattlecocks that leaps & skips,
The Top-mast seems to play with Phoebus nose,
Strait downe toward Erebus amaine she goes:
Blow wind, quoth Neptune, til thy entrails breake,
Against my force thy force shall be too weake:
[Page]Then like two fooles at variance for a trifle,
They split the ship, they enter and they rifle.
Like cursed Law-wormes, enuious and cruell,
Striuing to seaze the peerlesse matchlesse Iewell,
Whil'st AEol sought aboue the skies to crown him;
Blew-bearded Neptune in his arms did drown him.
The Wind-god sees the prize and battel lost,
Blowes, storms, and rages to be curb'd and crost,
And vow'd to rowze great Neptune in his Court,
And in his teeth his iniury retort:
Then he commands retreat to all his forces;
Who riding sundry waies on winged horses,
Bigge Boreas to the freezing North went puffing,
And slauering Auster, to the South went huffing,
Eurus went East, and Zephyrus went West,
And thus the warres of windes and seas did rest.
ANd now dame Thetis in thy vasty womb,
Is odd Odcombians Coriats timeless Toomb,
[Page]Where Nayads, Driads, and sweet sea-nimphs tend him,
And with their daily seruice do befriend him,
There al-shap'd Proteus and shril trumping Triton
And many more, which I can hardly write on,
As if it were the thing they glory at,
In seruile troopes they waite on Coriat,
That though like hel, the sea were far more dark as
Yet these would guard his vnreguarded carkasse.
You Academick, Latine, Greeke Magisters,
You of-springs of the three times treble Sisters,
Write, study, teach vntil your tongs haue blisters.
For, now the Haddocks, and the shifting Sharks,
That feed on Coriat, will become great Clarks:
The wri-mouth'd Place & mumping Whiting-mops
Wil in their mawes keep Greeke and Latine shops,
The Pork-like Porpose; Thorn-back, and the Scate
Like studious Grecian Latinists will prate,
And men with eating them, by inspiration,
With these two tongues, shall fill each barbarous Nation.
[Page]Then, though the Sea hath rudely him bereft vs;
Yet, midst our woes, this onely comforts left vs,
That our posterities by eating fishes,
Shall pick his wisdome out of diuers dishes;
And then (no doubt) but thousands more will be
As learned, or perhaps all as wise-men as he:
But to conclude, affection makes me cry,
Sorrow prouokes me sleep, griefe dries mine eye.
EPITAPH in the Barmooda tongue, which must be pronounced with the accent of the grunting of a hogge.
HOugh grantough wough Thomough
Coriatough, Odcough robunquogh,
Warawogh bogh Comitogh
segh wogh termanatogrogh,
Callimogh gogh whobogh Ragamogh
demagorgoh palemogh,
Lomerogh nogh Tottertogh illemortogh
eagh Allaquemquogh,
Teracominogh Iagogh Iamerogh
mogh Carnogh pelepsogh,
Animogh trogh deradrogh maramogh
hogh Flondrogh calepsogh.
Epitaph in the Vtopian tongue.
NOrtumblum callimūquash omystoliton quashte burashte,
Scribuke woshtay solusbay perambulatushte;
Grekay sons Turkay Paphay zums Ieruslushte.
Neptus esht Ealors Interremoy diz Dolorushte,
Confahuloy Odcombay Prozeugmollitō tymorumynoy;
Omulas or at ushte paralescus tolliton vmbroy.
The same in English, translated by Caleb Quishquash, an Vtopian borne and principall Secretary to the great Adelantado of Barmoodoes.
HEre lies the wonder of the English Nation,
Inuolv'd in Neptunes british vasty maw:
For fruitlesse trauell, and for strange relation,
He past and repast all that ere eve saw.
Odcomb produc'd him; many Nations fed him,
And worlds of Writers, through the world haue spred him,
FINIS.
Certaine Sonnets, in prayse of Mr. Thomas the deceased; fashioned of diuers stuffs, as mockado, fustian, stand-further off, and Motly, all which the Author dedicates to the immortall memory of the famous Odcombian traueller.
COnglomerating Aiax, in a fogge
Constulted with Ixion for a tripe,
At which Gargantua tooke an Irish bogge,
And with the same ga [...]e Sisiphus a stripe.
That all the bumbast forrests gan to swell,
With Triple treble trouble and with ioy,
That Lucifer kept holiday to hell,
Cause Cupid would no more be cald a boy.
Delucitating Flora's painted hide,
Redeemes Arion from the hongry Wolfe,
[Page]And with conglutinating haughty pride,
Threw Pander in the damb'd Venetian gulfe,
The Mediterrane mountaines laught and smil'd,
And Libra wandred in the woods so wild.
Bright Cassia Fistula was wondrous sad,
To heare Zarzaparillas great mis-hap,
And Coloquintida was raging mad
When Saxafrage was set in Rubarbs lap;
Dame Lickorish was in a monstrous fume,
Against the lushious Reasons of the sunne,
And Trinidado smoake auoids the roome,
Whil'st Gum-armoniack sweares she is vndone;
Vnguentum album is so pale and wan
That Paracelsus plaister mournes in black,
The spanish Eleborus strongly can
Make Lignum vita's hide with neesing crack:
Lo, thus with vnguents, plaisters, oyles, & drugge [...]
We coniure vp the fierce infernall bugges.
[Page]The headstrong Torchlight of Cimerian waues,
VVith fiery frozen wonder leaps and vaults:
And on th' Altantick Ocean cuts and shaues,
VVhilst thunder thwacking Ossa limps and halts,
Robustious AEtna drownes the Artick Pole,
And forked Vulcan hath forsooke his forge,
Apollo'es piebald mare hath cast her fole,
And Mulley Mahomet hath fild his gorge.
Don Belzebub sits sleaing of his breech,
And Marble Proteus dances, leaps and skips,
Belerophon hath pend an excellent speech,
And big-boand Boreas kist Anroraes lipps:
The Welkin rumbles; Argos lies a sleepe,
And Tantalus hath slaine a flock of sheepe.
VVhen flounder-flapping Termagant was slaine,
The smug fac'd Cerberus did houle and yell.
And Polyphemus rid in Charles his waine,
VVhilst Gorgons head rung great Alcides knell,
The rip-rap-riffe-raffe, thwick thwack stout Babo [...]
Gripes in his downy clutch the spungy Oake.
[Page]And Yong Andromeda at night rings noone,
VVhilst Asdrubal at tick tack lost his cloake,
Prometheus couering, the Vmbranoes head,
And Typhon tumbles through the solide Ayre:
Proud Pegasus on Cheese and Garlick fed,
And Proserpina went to Sturbidge faire.
Pope Hildebrand bad Pluto home to supper,
And Don Diegoes horse hath broke his crupper.
Dick Swash drew out his three pild blunted blade
And flasht in twaine the equinoctiall line:
Tom Thumb did through th' Arabian deserts wade,
VVhere Castor and his brother Pollux shine,
The threed bare flap-Iacks of the westerne Iles,
Exasperates the Marble Sithian Snow,
Damu Venus traueld fifty thousand miles
To see the bounds of Nilus ebbe and flow.
The Gurmondizing Quagmires of the East,
Ingurgitates the Eremanthean Bull:
And rude rebounding Sagittarius Ceast
To pipe Leualtoes to Gonzagues Trull
[Page]The Adriatick Polcats sate carousing,
And hidebound Gogmagog his shirt was lowfin [...]
Sweet Semi-circled Cinthya plaid at maw,
The whilst Endimion ran the wild-goose chase.
Great Bacchus with his Crosbow kild a daw,
And sullen Saturne smil'd with pleasant face.
The ninefold Bugbeares of the Caspian lake,
Sate whistling Ebon hornepipes to their Ducks,
Madgh [...]ulet straight for ioy her Girdle brake.
And rugged Satyrs friskd like Stagges and Buck [...]
The vntamd tumbling fifteene footed Goat,
With promulgation of the Lesbian shores,
Confronted Hydra in a sculler Boat,
At which the mighty mountaine Tauris rores
Meane time great Sultan Soliman was borne,
And Atlas blew his rustick tumbling horne.
[Page]IF there bee any Gentlemen, or others that are desirous to be practitioners in the Barmoodo and Vtopian tongues: the Professor (being the Author hereof) dwelleth at the olde Swanne neere London Bridge, who wil teach them (that are willing) to learne, with agilitie and facility.
Errata.
REader, you must imagine these sixe confused Sonnets, of Rime without Reason, are confusedly put together; but I would entreate you [...]or your better vnderstanding, to diuide them into [...]4. lines a peece in your reading.
FINIS.