SURE there are poets which did never dream Upon Parnassus, nor did taste the stream Of Helicon; we therefore may suppose Those made not poets, but the poets those.
And as courts make not kings, but kings the court,
So where the Muses and their train resort, Parnassus stands; if I can be to thee A poet, thou Parnassus art to me. Nor wonder, if (advantag'd in my flight, By taking wing from thy auspicious height) Through untrac'd ways and airy paths I fly, More boundless in my fancy than my eye: My eye, which swift as thought contracts the
Has bravely reach'd and soar'd above thy height: Now shalt thou stand, though sword, or time, or fire,
Or zeal more fierce than they, thy fall conspire, Secure, whilst thee the best of poets sings, Preserv'd from ruin by the best of kings. Under his proud survey the city lies,
And like a mist beneath a hill doth rise;
While luxury, and wealth, like war and peace, Are each the other's ruin, and increase. As rivers lost in seas, some secret vein Thence reconveys, there to be lost again. Oh happiness of sweet retir'd content! To be at once secure, and innocent. Windsor the next (where Mars dwells, Beauty with strength) above the valley swells Into my eye, and doth itself present With such an easy and unforc'd ascent, That no stupendous precipice denies Access, no horrour turns away our eyes: But such a rise as doth at once invite A pleasure, and a reverence from the sight. Thy mighty master's emblem, in whose face Sate meekness, heighten'd with majestic grace; Such seems thy gentle height, made only proud To be the basis of that pompous load,
Than which, a nobler weight no mountain bears,
But Atlas only which supports the spheres. When Nature's hand this ground did thus advance,
Do homage to her, yet she cannot boast
Whose state and wealth, the business and the Among that numerous, and celestial host,
Seems at this distance but a darker cloud: And is, to him who rightly things esteems, No other in effect than what it seems : Where, with like haste, though several ways,
Some to undo, and some to be undone ;
More heroes than can Windsor, nor doth Fame's Immortal book record more noble names. Not to look back so far, to whom this isle Owes the first glory of so brave a pile, Whether to Cæsar, Albanact, or Brute, The British Arthur, or the Danish Cnute, (Though this of old no less contest did move, Than when for Homer's birth seven cities strove)
Like him in birth, thou should'st be like in | No crime so bold, but would be understood
As thine his fate, if mine had been his flame) But whosoe'er it was, Nature design'd First a brave place, and then as brave a mind. Not to recount those several kings, to whom It gave a cradle, or to whom a tomb; But thee great Edward', and thy greater son, (The lilies which his father wore, he won) And thy Bellona3, who the consort came Not only to thy bed, but to thy fame, She to the triumph led one captive 4 king
And brought that son, which did the second 4 bring.
Then didst thou found that Order (whether love Or victory thy royal thoughts did move): Each was a noble cause, and nothing less Than the design, has been the great success: Which foreign kings and emperors esteem The second honour to their diadem. Had thy great Destiny but given thee skill To know, as well as power to act her will, That from those kings, who then thy captives
In after-times should spring a royal pair, Who should possess all that thy mighty power, Or thy desires more mighty, did devour: To whom their better fate reserves whate'er The victor hopes for, or the vanquish'd fear; That blood, which thou and thy great grand- sire shed,
And all that since these sister nations bled, Had been unspilt, and happy Edward known That all the blood he spilt, had been his own. When he that patron chose, in whom are join'd Soldier and martyr, and his arms confin'd Within the azure circle, he did seem But to foretel, and prophecy of him. Who to his realms that azure round hath join'd, Which Nature for their bound at first design'd. That bound which to the world's extremest ends,
Endless itself, its liquid arms extends. Nor doth he need those emblems which we paint, But is himself the soldier and the saint. Here should my wonder dwell, and here my praise,
But my fix'd thoughts my wandering eye betrays,
Viewing a neighbouring hill, whose top of late A chapel crown'd till in the common fate Th' adjoining abbey fell: (may no such storm Fall on our times, where ruin must reform !) Tell me, my Muse, what monstrous dire of fence,
What crime could any Christian king incense To such a rage? Was't luxury, or lust! Was he so temperate, so chaste, so just ? Were these their crimes? They were his own
But wealth is crime enough to him that's poor; Who, having spent the treasures of his crown, Condemns their luxury to feed his own. And yet this act, to varnish o'er the shame Of sacrilege, must bear Devotion's name.
2 Edward III. and the Black Prince.
4 The kings of France and Scotland.
A real, or at least a seeming good : Who fears not to do ill, yet fears the name, And free from conscience, is a slave to fame: Thus he the church at once protects, and spoils : But princes' swords are sharper than their styles.
And thus to th' ages past he makes amends, Their charity destroys, their faith defends. Then did Religion in a lazy cell,
In empty, airy contemplations dwell; And like the block, unmoved lay: but ours, As much too active, like the stork devours. Is there no temperate region can be known, Betwixt their frigid, and our torrid zone? Could we not wake from that lethargic dream, But to be restless in a worse extreme? And for that lethargy was there no cure, But to be cast into a calenture? Can knowledge have no bound, but must advance So far, to make us wish for ignorance; And rather in the dark to grope our way, Than led by a false guide to err by day? Who sees these dismal heaps, but would demand What barbarous invader sack'd the land? But when he hears, no Goth, no Turk did bring, This desolation, but a Christian king; When nothing, but the name of zeal, appears 'Twixt our best actions and the worst of theirs : What does he think our sacrilege would spare, When such th' effects of our devotions are?
Parting from thence 'twixt anger, shame, and
Those for what's past, and this for what's too near,
My eye descending from the hill, surveys Where Thames among the wanton vallies strays, Thames, the most lov'd of all the Ocean's sons By his old sire, to his embraces runs ; Hasting to pay his tribute to the sea, Like mortal life to meet eternity. Though with those streams he no resemblance hold,
Whose foam is amber, and their gravel gold; His genuine and less guilty wealth t' explore, Search not his bottom, but survey his shore; O'er which he kindly spread his spacious wing, And hatches plenty for th' ensuing spring. Nor then destroys it with too fond a stay, Like mothers which their infants overlay; Nor with a sudden and impetuous wave, Like profuse kings, resumes the wealth he gave, No unexpected inundations spoil
The mower's hopes, nor mock the plowman's toil:
But god-like his unweary'd bounty flows; First loves to do, then loves the good he does. Nor are his blessings to his banks confin'd, But free, and common, as the sea of wind; When he, to boast or to disperse his stores, Full of the tributes of his grateful shores, Visits the world, and in his flying towers Brings home to us, and makes both Indies ours: Finds wealth where 'tis, bestows it where it wants, Cities in deserts, woods in cities plants.
So that to us no thing, no place is strange, While his fair bosom is the world's exchange.
O could I flow like thee, and make thy streams My great example, as it is my theme!
Though deep, yet clear; though gentle, yet not dull;
Strong without rage, without o'erflowing full. Heaven her Eridanus no more shall boast; Whose fame in thine,like lesser current, 's lost Thy nobler streams shall visit Jove's abodes, To shine among the stars 5, and bathe the gods. Here Nature, whether more intent to please Us for herself, with strange varieties, (For things of wonder give no less delight, To the wise maker's, than beholder's sight. Though these delights from several causes move; For so our children, thus our friends we love) Wisely she knew, the harmony of things,
As well as that of sounds, from discord springs. Such was the discord, which did first disperse Form, order, beauty, through the universe; While dryness moisture, coldness heat resists, All that we have, and that we are, subsists. While the steep horrid roughness of the wood Strives with the gentle calmness of the flood. Such huge extremes when Nature doth unite, Wonder from thence results, from thence de- light.
The stream is so transparent, pure and clear, That had the self enamour'd youth gaz'd here, So fatally deceiv'd he had not been, While he the bottom, not his face had seen. But his proud head the airy mountain hides Among the clouds; his shoulders and his sides A shady mantle clothes; his curled brows Frown on the gentle stream, which calmly flows;
While winds and storms his lofty forehead beat: The common fate of all that's high or great. Low at his foot a spacious plain is plac'd, Between the mountain and the stream em- brac'd,
Which shade and shelter from the hill derives, While the kind river wealth and beauty gives; And in the mixture of all these appears Variety, which all the rest endears.
This scene had some bold Greek, or British bard Beneld of old, what stories had we heard Of Fairies, Satyrs, and the Nymphs, their dames, Their feasts, their revels, and their amorous flames?
'Tis still the same, although their airy shape All but a quick poetic sight escape. There Faunus and Sylvanus keep their courts, And thither all the horned host resorts To graze the ranker mead, that noble herd, On whose sublime and shady fronts is rear'd Nature's great master-piece; to show how soon Great things are made, but sooner are undone, Here have I seen the king, when great affairs Gave leave to slacken and unbend his cares, Attended to the chase by all the flower Of youth, whose hopes a nobler prey devour: Pleasure with praise, and danger they would buy,
And wish a foe that would not only fly. The stag, now conscious of his fatal growth, At once indulgent to his fear and sloth, To some dark covert his retreat had made,
| His soft repose, when the unexpected sound Of dogs, and men, his wakeful ear does wound : Rouz'd with the noise, he scarce believes his
Willing to think th' illusions of his fear Had given this false alarm, but straight his view Confirms, that more than all he fears is true. Betray'd in all his strengths, the wood beset, All instruments, all arts of ruin met,
He calls to mind his strength, and then his speed,
His winged heels, and then his armed head; With these t' avoid, with that his fate to meet ; But fear prevails, and bids him trust his feet. So fast he flies, that his reviewing eye Has lost the chasers, and his ear the cry; Exulting, till he finds their nobler sense Their disproportion'd speed doth recompense; Then curses his conspiring feet, whose scent Betrays that safety which their swiftness lent. Then tries his friends: among the baser herd, Where he so lately was obey'd and fear'd, His safety seeks: the herd, unkindly wise, Or chases him from thence, or from him flies, Like a declining statesman, left forlorn To his friends' pity, and pursuers' scorn, With shame remembers, while himself was one Of the same herd, himself the same had done. Thence to the coverts and the conscious groves, The scenes of his past triumphs, and his loves; Sadly surveying where he rang'd alone Prince of the soil, and all the herd his own; And like a bold knight-errant did proclaim Combat to all, and bore away the dame; And taught the woods to echo to the stream His dreadful challenge, and his clashing beam; Yet faintly now declines the fatal strife, So much his love was dearer than his life. Now every leaf, and every moving breath Presents a foe, and every foe a death. Weary'd, forsaken, and pursued, at last All safety in despair of safety plac'd, Courage he thence resumes, resolv'd to bear All their assaults, since 'tis in vain to fear. And now, too late, he wishes for the fight That strength he wasted in ignoble flight: But when he sees the eager chase renew'd, Himself by dogs, the dogs by men pursued, He straight revokes his bold resolve, and more Repents his courage, than his fear before; Finds that uncertain ways unsafest are, And doubt a greater mischief than despair. Then to the stream, when neither friends, nor force,
Nor speed, nor art avail, he shapes his course; Thinks not their rage so desperate to essay An element more merciless than they. But fearless they pursue, nor can the flood Quench their dire thirst! alas, they thirst for blood.
So towards a ship the oar-finn'd gallies ply, Which wanting sea to ride, or wind to fly, Stands but to fall reveng'd on those that dare Tempt the last fury of extreme despair : So fares the stag, among th' enraged hounds,
Where no man's eye, nor heaven's should in- Repels their force, and wounds returns for
And as a hero, whom his baser foes
In troops surround, now these assails, now those 6
Though prodigal of life, disdains to die By common hands; but if he can descry Some nobler foe approach, to him he calls, And begs his fate, and then contented falls. So when the king a mortal shaft lets fly, From his unerring hand, then, glad to die, Proud of the wound, to it resigns his blood, And stains the crystal with a purple flood. This a more innocent and happy chase, Than when of old, but in the self-same place, Fair Liberty pursued, and meant a prey
To lawless Power, here turn'd, and stood at bay;
When in that remedy all hope was plac'd, Which was, or should have been at least the last. Here was that charter seal'd, wherein the
All marks of arbitrary power lays down: Tyrant and slave, those names of hate and fear, The happier stile of king and subject bear: Happy, when both to the same center move, When kings give liberty, and subjects love. Therefore not long in force this charter stood; Wanting that seal, it must be seal'd in blood. The subjects arm'd, the more their prin Th' advantage only took, the more to crave : Till kings, by giving give themselves away, And even that power, that should deny, be- tray, [viles, "Who gives constrain'd, but his own fear re- Not thank'd, but scorn'd; nor are they gifts, but spoils."
Thus kings, by grasping more than they could hold,
First made their subjects, by oppression bold; And popular sway, by forcing kings to give More than was fit for subjects to receive, Ran to the same extremes; and one excess Made both, by striving to be greater, less. When a calm river, rais'd with sudden rains,
Or snows dissolv'd, o'erflows th' adjoining plains,
The husbandmen with high-rais'd banks secure Their greedy hopes; and this he can endure. But if with bays and dams they strive to force His channel to a new, or narrow course; No longer then within his banks he dwells, First to a torrent, then a deluge swells: Stronger and fiercer by restraint he roars,
coast of Carthage, he was received by queen Dido, who, after the feast, desires him to make the relation of the destruction of Troy; which is the Argument of this book.
WHILE all with silence and attention wait, Thus speaks Æneas from the bed of state; Madam, when you command us to review Our fate, you make our old wounds bleed
And all those sorrows to my sense restore, Whereof none saw so much, none suffer'd
Not the most cruel of our conquering foes So unconcern'dly can relate our woes, As not to lend a tear, then how can I Repress the horrour of my thoughts, which fly
The said remembrance? Now th' expiring night
And the declining stars to rest invite;
Yet since 'tis your command, what you so well Are pleas'd to hear, I cannot grieve to tell. By Fate repell'd, and with repulses tir'd, The Greeks, so many lives and years expir'd, A fabric like a moving mountain frame, Pretending vows for their return; this Fame Divulges; then within the beast's vast womb The choice and flower of all their troops en- tomb.
In view the isle of Tenedos, once high
In fame and wealth, while Troy remain'd, doth lie,
(Now but an unsecure and open bay) Thither by stealth the Greeks their fleet con-
We gave them gone, and to Mycena sail'd, And Troy reviv'd, her mourning face unvail'd; All through th' unguarded gates with joy re-
To see the slighted camp, the vacant port.
Here lay Ulysses, there Achilles; here The battle join'd, the Grecian fleet rode there; But the vast pile th' amazed vulgar views, Till they their reason in their wonder lose. And first Thy moetes moves (urg'd by the power
And knows no bound, but makes his power his of fate or fraud) to place it in the tower;
But Capys and the graver sort thought fit The Greeks suspected present to commit To seas or flames, at least to search and bore The sides, and what that space contains t'ex- plore.
Th' uncertain multitude with both engag'd, Divided stands, till from the tower, enrag'd Laocoon ran, whom all the crowd attends. Crying, "What desperate frenzy's this, (oh friends)
SECOND BOOK OF VIRGIL'S EN EIS. To think them gone? Judge rather their re
WRITTEN IN THE YEAR 1636.
The first book speaks of Æneas's voyage by sea, and how, being cast by tempest upon the Runny Mead.
But a design, their gifts but a deceit ; For our destruction 'twas contriv'd, no doubt, Or from within by fraud, or from without By force; yet know ye not Ulysses' shifts? Their swords less danger carry than their gifts."
(This said) against the horse's side his spear He throws, which trembles with enclosed fear,
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