Opening

Transcriber's Note

General Footnotes have been moved to the end of their relevant sections.

Most of the poems are followed by explanatory notes and lists of differences between editions (with Line numbers). These Line Notes have been kept with the Poems to which they refer.

The List of Contents for Thomas Stanley's Poems has been moved from the general List of Contents to its logical place after the Introduction to Thomas Stanley.

The rest of the Transcriber's Note is at the end of the book.

MINOR POETS OF THE CAROLINE PERIOD

VOL. III CONTAINING

JOHN CLEVELAND · THOMAS STANLEY HENRY KING · THOMAS FLATMAN NATHANIEL WHITING

EDITED BY

GEORGE SAINTSBURY, M.A.

OXFORD AT THE CLARENDON PRESS 1921

Oxford University Press

_London Edinburgh Glasgow Copenhagen New York Toronto Melbourne Cape Town Bombay Calcutta Madras Shanghai_

Humphrey Milford Publisher to the UNIVERSITY.

PREFATORY NOTE

I am afraid that this third and last volume of Caroline Poets must reverse the famous apology of the second of the monarchs from whom it derives its title. It has been an unconscionable time in being born; though I do not, to speak in character with my authors, know what hostile divinity bribed Lucina. I cannot blame any one else: and--though for the first ten years after the appearance of Vol. II I was certainly very busy, professionally and with other literary work--I do not think I omitted any opportunity of getting on with the book. I think I may say that if the time I have actually spent thereon at spare moments could be put together it would represent a full year's solid labour, if not more. I make neither complaint nor boast of this; for it has always been my opinion that a person who holds such a position as I then held should, if he possibly can, do something, in unremunerative and unpopular ways, to make the treasure of English literature more easily accessible. I have thoroughly enjoyed the work; and I owe the greatest thanks to the authorities of the Clarendon Press for making it possible.

But no efforts of mine, unless I had been able to reside in Oxford or London, would have much hastened the completion of the task: for the materials were hard to select, and, when selected, harder to find in copies that could be used for printing. Some of them we could not get hold of in any reasonable time: and the Delegates of the Press were good enough to have bromide rotographs of the Bodleian copies made for me. I worked on these as long as I could: but I found at last that the white print on black ground, crammed and crowded together as it is in the little books of the time, was not merely troublesome and painful, but was getting really dangerous, to my extremely weak eyesight.

This necessitated, or almost necessitated, some alterations in the scheme. One concerned the modernization of spelling, which accordingly will be found disused in a few later pieces of the volume; another, and more important one, the revision of the text. This latter was most kindly undertaken principally by Mr. Percy Simpson, who has had the benefit of Mr. G. Thorn-Drury's unrivalled knowledge of these minors. I could not think of cramping the hands of scholars so well versed as these were in seventeenth-century work: and they have accordingly bestowed rather more attention than had originally formed part of my own plan on apparatus criticus and comparison of MSS. The reader of course gains considerably in yet other respects. I owe these gentlemen, who may almost be called part-editors of this volume as far as text is concerned, very sincere thanks; and I have endeavoured as far as possible to specify their contributions.

When the war came the fortunes of the book inevitably received another check. The Clarendon Press conducted its operations in many other places besides Walton Street, and with many other instruments besides types and paper. Nor had its Home Department much time for such mere belles lettres as these. Moreover the loss of my own library, and the difficulties of compensating for that loss in towns less rich in books than Edinburgh, put further drags on the wheel. So I and my Carolines had to bide our time still: and even now it has been thought best to jettison a part of the promised cargo of the ship rather than keep it longer on the stocks.

The poets whom I had intended to include, and upon whom I had bestowed more or less labour, but who now suffer exclusion, were Heath, Flecknoe, Hawkins, Beedome, Prestwich, Lawrence, Pick, Jenkyn, and a certain 'Philander'. Of these I chiefly regret Heath--the pretty title of whose Clarastella is not ill-supported by the text, and who would have 'taken out the taste' of Whiting satisfactorily for some people--Hawkins, Lawrence, and Jenkyn. Henry Hawkins in Partheneia Sacra has attained a sort of mystical unction which puts him not so very far below Crashaw, and perhaps entitles him to rank with that poet, Southwell, and Chideock Tichborne earlier as the representative quartette of English Roman Catholic poetry in the major Elizabethan age. Lawrence's Arnalte and Lucetida, not a brilliant thing in itself, has real literary interest of the historical-comparative kind as representing a Spanish romance by Diego de San Pedro (best known as the author of the Carcel de Amor) and its French translation by Herberay, the translator of Amadis. But such things remain to be taken up by some general historian of the 'Heroic' Romance. As for 'Patheryke' [sic] Jenkyn he attracted me many years ago by the agreeable heterography of his name (so far preferable to more recent sham-Celticizings thereof) and held me by less fantastic merits. Flecknoe pleaded for a chance against the tyranny of 'glorious John'. But when it was a question between keeping these and the others with further delay and letting them go, there could not be much doubt in which way England expected this man to do his infinitesimal duty.

One instance, not of subtraction but of addition to the original contents, seems to require slight notice. The eye-weakness just mentioned having always prevented me from making any regular study of palaeography, I had originally proposed only to include work already printed. I was tempted to break my rule in the case of Godolphin: and made rather a mess of it. An errata list in the present volume (p. 552) will, I believe, repair the blunder. The single censurer of this (I further believe) single serious lapse of mine was, I remember, troubled about it as a discredit to the University of Oxford. I sincerely trust that he was mistaken. None of us can possibly do credit to our University; we can only derive it from her. To throw any discredit on her is equally impossible: though of course any member may achieve such discredit for himself. Let me hope that the balance against me for indiscreet dealing with perhaps one per cent. of my fifteen hundred or two thousand pages is not too heavy.

Little need be said of the actual constituents of the volume, which has however perhaps lost something of its intended 'composition', in the artistic sense, by losing its tail. A good English edition of Cleveland has long been wanted: and I think--the thought being stripped of presumption by the number and valiancy of my helpers--that we have at last given one. Stanley and King--truer poets than Cleveland, if less interesting to the general public--also called for fresh presentation. If anybody demurs to Flatman and still more to Whiting he must be left to his own opinion. I shall only note here that on Cleveland I was guilty of injustice to the Library of the University of Edinburgh (to which I owe much) by saying that it contained no edition of this reviler of Caledonia. None was discoverable in my time, the process of overhauling and re-cataloguing being then incomplete. But my friend and successor, Professor Grierson, tells me that one has since been found. As to King, I have recently seen doubts cast on his authorship of 'Tell me no more'. But I have seen no valid reasons alleged for them, and I do not know of any one else who has the slightest claim to it.

Of the whole three volumes it is still less necessary to say much. I have owed special thanks in succession to Mr. Doble, Mr. Milford, and Mr. Chapman (now Secretary) of the Clarendon Press; to Professors Firth and Case (indeed, but for the former's generous imparting of his treasures the whole thing could hardly have been done) for loan of books as well as answering of questions; and to not a few others, among whom I may specially mention my friend of many years, the Rev. William Hunt, D.Litt., Honorary Fellow of Trinity College, Oxford. I wish the work had done greater credit to all this assistance and to the generous expenditure of the University and its Press. But such as it is I can say (speaking no doubt as a fool) that I should myself have been exceedingly grateful if somebody had done it fifty years ago: and that I shall be satisfied if only a few people are grateful for it between now and fifty or five hundred years hence. For there is stuff in it, though not mine, which will keep as long as the longest of these periods and longer.[1]

GEORGE SAINTSBURY.

1 _Royal Crescent, Bath. Oak-Apple Day, 1921_.

[Footnote 1: The tolerably gentle reader will easily understand that, in a book written, and even printed, at considerable intervals of time, Time itself will sometimes have affected statements. There may be a few such cases here. But it seems unnecessary to burden the thing with possible Corrigenda, as to the post-war price of the Cross-bath (p. 360), &c.]

THOMAS STANLEY 95 Introduction 97 Contents 101

POEMS NOT PRINTED AFTER 1647 101 POEMS PRINTED IN 1647 AND REPRINTED IN 1656 BUT NOT IN 1651 102 1651 POEMS 109 POEMS APPEARING ONLY IN THE EDITION OF 1656 159

HENRY KING 161 Introduction 163 Table of Contents 167 The Publishers to the Author 168

POEMS, ELEGIES, PARADOXES, AND SONNETS 169

THOMAS FLATMAN 275 Introduction 277 Dedication 283 To the Reader 284 Commendatory Poems 285 The Contents 294

POEMS AND SONGS 296

NATHANIEL WHITING 423

Introduction 424 Commendatory Poems 428

THE PLEASING HISTORY OF ALBINO AND BELLAMA 439 To those worthy Heroes of our Age, whose noble Breasts are wet and water'd with the dew of Helicon 539 Il Insonio Insonnadado 540

POEMS

J. C.

With Additions, never before Printed.

Printed in the Yeare 1653.

J. Cleaveland Revived:

=POEMS,=

ORATIONS,

EPISTLES,

And other of his Genuine Incomparable Pieces, never before publisht.

WITH

Some other Exquisite Remains of the most eminent Wits of both the Universities that were his Contemporaries.

Non norunt hæc monumenta mori.

LONDON, Printed for Nathaniel Brook, at the Angel in Corn-hill. 1659.

Clievelandi Vindiciæ;

OR,

CLIEVELAND'S

Genuine POEMS,

Orations, Epistles, &c.

Purged from the many

False & Spurious Ones

Which had usurped his Name, and from innumerable Errours and Corruptions in the True.

To which are added many never Printed before.

Published according to the Author's own Copies.

LONDON, Printed for Nath. Brooke, at the Angel in Corne-Hill near the Royal Exchange, 1677.

INTRODUCTION TO JOHN CLEVELAND.

Almost everybody--an everybody not including many bodies--who has dealt with Cleveland since the revival of interest in seventeenth-century writers has of necessity dwelt more or less on the moral that he points, and the tale that he illustrates, if he does not exactly adorn it. Moral and tale have been also generally summarized by referring to the undoubted fact that Cleveland had twenty editions while Milton's Minor Poems had two. I do not propose myself to dwell long on this part of the matter. The moral diatribe is not my trade: and while almost any one who wants such a thing can deduce it from the facts which will be given, those who are unable to effect the deduction may as well go without it. What I wish to provide is what it is not easy for any one to provide, and impossible for any one to provide 'out of his own head'--that is to say an edition, sufficient for reading and for all literary purposes, of the most probably authentic of the heterogeneous poems which have clustered round Cleveland's name. Such an edition did not exist when this collection of Caroline poets was planned, nor when it was announced: nor has it been supplied since in this country. One did appear very shortly afterwards in America,[1] and it has been of use to me: but it certainly does not make Cleveland's appearance here superfluous. Had not Professor Case of Liverpool, who had long made Cleveland a special study, insisted on my giving him in this collection, and most kindly provided me with stores of his own material, I should not have attempted the task: and I still hope that Mr. Case will execute a more extensive edition with the prose, with the doubtful or even certainly spurious poems duly annotated, and with apparatus which would be out of place here. It cannot, however, be out of place to include--in what is almost a corpus of 'metaphysical' poetry of the less easily accessible class--one who has been regarded from different, but not very distant, points of view as at once the metaphysical 'furthest' and as the metaphysical reductio ad absurdum.

Cleveland (the name was also very commonly spelt in his own day 'Cleiveland'[2] and 'Cleaveland', as well as otherwise still) was born at Loughborough, and christened on June 20, 1613. His father, Thomas, was curate of the parish and assistant master at the Grammar School. Eight years later the father was made vicar of Hinckley, also provided with a grammar school, at which John appears to have been educated till in 1627 he went to Christ's College, Cambridge--where, of course, the everlasting comparison with his elder contemporary Milton comes in again for those who like it. He remained at Christ's for seven years as usual, performing divers college exercises on public occasions, occasionally of some importance; took his bachelor's degree (also as usual) in 1631; and in 1634 was elected to a fellowship at St. John's, proceeding to his M.A. next year. At the end of his probationary period he did not take orders, but was admitted as legista--perhaps also, though the statement is uncorroborated officially, to the third learned faculty of Physic. There is also doubt about his incorporation at Oxford. He served as Tutor and as Rhetoric Praelector: nor are we destitute of Orations and Epistles of an official character from his pen. Like the majority of university men at the time--and indeed like the majority of men of letters and education--he was a strong Royalist: and was unlikely to stay in Cambridge when the Roundhead mob of the town was assisted by a Parliamentary garrison in rabbling the University. It was natural that he should 'retire to Oxon.', and it is probable that Oxford was his head-quarters from 1642 to 1645. But he does not seem to have been actually deprived of his fellowship at St. John's till the last-named year, when the Earl of Manchester, whom (especially as Lord Kimbolton) Cleveland had bitterly satirized, had his opportunity of revenge and took it.

For Cleveland had already been active with his pen in the Royalist cause, and was now appointed to a post of some importance as 'Judge Advocate' of Newark. The Governor was Sir Richard Willis, for whom Cleveland replied to Leven's summons to surrender. They held the town for the King from November to May, when it was given up on Charles's own order. Then comes the anecdote--more than a hundred years after date--of Leven's dismissing him with contemptuous lenity. 'Let the poor fellow go about his business and sell his ballads.' This, though accepted by Carlyle, and a smart enough invention, has no contemporary authority, and is made extremely suspicious by its own addition that Cleveland was so vexed that he took to strong liquors which hastened his death. Now Newark fell in 1646 and Cleveland lived till 1658. It would make an interesting examination question, 'How much must a man drink in a day in order to hasten his death thereby twelve years afterwards?' And it must be admitted, if true, to be a strong argument on the side of the good fellow who pleaded that alcohol was a very slow poison.

He escaped somehow, however: and we hear nothing of his life for another decade. Then he is again in trouble, being informed against, to the Council of State, by some Norwich Roundheads who have, however, nothing to urge against him but his antecedents, his forgathering with 'papists and delinquents', his 'genteel garb' with 'small and scant means', and (which is important) his 'great abilitie whence he is able to do the greater disservice', this last a handsome testimonial to Cleveland, and a remarkable premium upon imbecility. He was imprisoned at Yarmouth and wrote a very creditable letter to Cromwell, maintaining his principles, but asking for release, which seems to have been granted. Cromwell--to do him justice and to alter a line of his greatest panegyrist save one in verse on another person--

Never persecuted but for gain,

and he probably did not agree with the officious persons at Norwich that there was much to be gained by incarcerating a poor Royalist poet. But Cleveland had been at least three months in prison, and it is alleged, with something more like vera causa in the allegation, that he there contracted 'such a weakness and disorder as soon after brought him to the grave'. A seventeenth-century prison was much more likely to kill a man in two years than 'strong waters' which had already been vigorously applied and successfully resisted for ten. He died in Gray's Inn, of an intermittent fever, on April 29, 1658.

Something will be said presently of the almost hopeless tangle of the so-called editions of Cleveland's Poems. It seems at least probable that no single one of the twenty--or whatever the number is--can be justly called authoritative. That he was an extremely popular poet or rather journalist in verse as well as prose, is absolutely beyond dispute--the very tangle just referred to proves it--and, though it may be excessive to call him the most popular poet of his time, he may fairly be bracketed with Cowley as joint holder of that position. Nor did his popularity cease as quickly as Cowley's did--the Restoration indeed was likely to increase rather than diminish it; and the editions went on till close upon the Revolution itself, while there were at least two after it, one just on the eve of the eighteenth century in 1699 and one near its middle in 1742.[3] Considerably before this, however, the critics had turned against him. 'Grave men', to quote Edward Phillips and the Theatrum Poetarum, 'affirmed him the best of English poets', but not for long. Fuller, who actually admired him, admitted that 'Clevelandizing' was dangerous; and Dryden, who must have admired him at one time, and shows constant traces of his influence, talks in the Essay of Dramatic Poesy of a 'Catachresis or Clevelandism'. In the eighteenth century he passed almost out of sight till Johnson brought him up for 'awful exampling' in the famous Life of Cowley: and he has had few advocates since. Let us, without borrowing from these advocates or attempting tediously to confute his enemies, deal with the facts, so far as they are known, of his life, and with the characteristics of the carefully sifted, but in no sense 'selected', poetry which will follow.

As for his character as a man, the evidence is entirely in his favour. He was an honest and consistent politician on his own side, and if some people think it the wrong side, others are equally positive that it was the right. If (rather unfairly) we dismiss the encomia on his character as partisan, there remains the important fact that no one on the other side says anything definite against it. If he was abusive, it certainly does not lie with anybody who admires Milton to reproach him with that. But the fact is, once more, that except in so far as there is a vague idea that a cavalier, and especially a cavalier poet, must have been a 'deboshed' person, there is absolutely no evidence against Cleveland and much in his favour. Also, this is not our business, which is with him as a poet.

As such he has been subjected to very little really critical examination.[4] The result of such as I myself have been able to give him was arrived at somewhat slowly: or rather it flashed upon me, after reading the poems several times over in different arrangements, that which gives the serious and satiric pieces higgledy-piggledy as in the older editions, and that which separates them, as in 1677 and in Mr. Berdan's American reprint. This result is that I entertain a very serious doubt whether Cleveland ever wrote 'serious' poetry, in one sense--he was of course serious enough in his satires--at all. That, on the other hand, he deliberately set himself to burlesque the 'metaphysical' manner I do not think: or at least (for rather minute definition is necessary here) I do not think that he executed this burlesque with any reforming intention or any particular contempt for the style. Like Butler, whom he in so many ways resembles--who pretty certainly owed him not a little, and of whom he was, as has often been pointed out, a sort of rough copy or spoiled draft--he was what he satirized in the literary way, and he caricatured himself. Of course if anybody thinks, as the Retrospective Reviewer thought, that 'Fuscara' and 'To the State of Love' are actually and intrinsically 'beautiful specimens of poetic conception', he will scout my notion. But I do not think that any one who has done me the honour even to look into these volumes will think me an 'antimetaphysical', and I must confess that I can see only occasional poetry here--only a caricature of such methods as may be suggested by Donne's 'Bracelet' piece, and the best things in Crashaw. It is, for instance, a very tell-tale thing that there is not, in Cleveland's work, a single one of the lovely lyrics that enshrine and ennoble the conceits in almost every one else of the school, from Donne himself to Sherburne. An American critic, defending Cleveland with the delightful indiscreetness of most defenders, maintains that these lyrics were failures--that they were not characteristic of the time. Well, let us be thankful that almost everybody down to Kynaston and John Hall 'failed' in this way not seldom.

But Cleveland never failed in it: and unfortunately it wants a failure or two at least of this kind to make a poet. To illustrate what I mean, let me refer readers to Benlowes--comparison of Cleveland with whom would not long ago have been impossible except in a large library. Benlowes is as extravagant as Cleveland, whom (I rather think) he sometimes copied.[5] But he cannot help this kind of poetic 'failure' from breaking in. Cleveland can, or rather I should say that he does not try--or has no need to try--to keep it out. In 'Fuscara', eminently; in 'To the State of Love', perhaps most prettily; in the 'Antiplatonic', most vigorously--in all his poems more or less, he sets himself to work to accumulate and elaborate conceits for their own sake. They are not directly suggested by the subject and still less by each other; they are no spray or froth of passion; they never suggest (as all the best examples and many not so good in others do) that indomitable reaching after the infinite which results at least in an infinite unexpectedness. They are merely card-castles of 'wit' in its worst sense; mechanical games of extravagant idea-twisting which simply aim at 'making records'. It is true that people admired them for being this. It is still truer that similar literary exercises may be found, and found popular, at the present day. It is even true, as will be shown later, that it is possible positively to enjoy them still. But these are different questions.

If Cleveland had little or nothing of the poetry of enthusiastic thought and feeling, he had not much more of the poetry of accomplished form, though here also he is exceptionally interesting. His 'Mark Antony'[6] has been indicated as an early example of 'dactylic' metre. It certainly connects interestingly with some songs of Dryden's, and has an historical position of its own, but I am by no means sure (v. inf.) that it was meant to be dactylic or even anapaestic.

Cleveland, therefore, was not a great poet, nor even a failure of one: but he was but just a failure of a very great satirist. Even here, of course, the Devil's Advocate will find only too much to say against him. Every one of the pieces requires the editing, polishing, and criticizing which (we know pretty well) the author never gave to anything of his. Every one suffers from Cleveland's adoption of the same method which he used in his purely metaphysical poems, that of stringing together and heaping up images and observations, instead of organizing and incorporating them. Every one is a tangled tissue of temporary allusion, needing endless scholiastry to unravel and elucidate it. It has been said, and it is true, that we find not a few reminiscences of Cleveland in Dryden. There is even in the couplet of the older and smaller poet something of the weight, the impetus, the animosity of that of the younger and greater. But of Dryden's ordonnance, his generalship, his power of coupling up his couplets into irresistible column, Cleveland has practically nothing. He has something of his own 'Rupertismus': but nothing more.

But, for all that, the Satires give us ample reason for understanding why the Roundheads persecuted Cleveland, and justify their fear of his 'abilities'. He has, though an unequal, an occasional command of the 'slap-in-the-face' couplet which--as has just been said--not impossibly taught something to Dryden, or at least awoke something in him. 'The Rebel Scot', his best thing, does not come so very far short of the opportunity which the Scots had given: and its most famous distich

Had Cain been Scot, God would have changed his doom, Not forced him wander, but confined him home,

was again and again revived till the unpopularity of North with South Britain flamed out last in Bute's time, a hundred years and more after Cleveland's. Of course it is only ignorance which thinks that this form of the couplet was invented by Cleveland, or even in his time. It may be found in Elizabeth's, and in Cleveland's own day was sporadic; nor did he himself ever approach such continuous and triumphant use of it as Dryden achieved only two years after Cleveland's own death. But there is, so to speak, the 'atmosphere' of it, and that atmosphere occasionally condenses into very concrete thunderbolts. Unfortunately he knew no mood but abuse, and such an opportunity as that of the 'Elegy on Laud' is almost entirely lost.

However, such as he is--in measure as full as can with any confidence be imparted; and omitting of course prose work--he is now before the reader, who will thus be able at last to form his own judgement on a writer who, perhaps of all English writers, combines the greatest popularity in his own time with the greatest inaccessibility in modern editions.

Nor should any reader be deterred from making the examination by the strictures which have been given above on Cleveland's purely poetical methods and merits. These strictures were made as cautions, and as a kind of antidote to the writer's own undisguised partiality for the 'metaphysical' style. It is true that Cleveland, like Benlowes, has something of a helot of that style about him: and that his want of purely lyrical power deprives his readers of much of the solace of his (if not of their) sin. But those natures must be very morose, very prosaic, or at best steeled against everything else by abhorrence of 'False Wit' who can withstand a certain tickling of amused enjoyment at the enormous yet sometimes pretty quaintnesses of 'Fuscara' itself; and still more at those of the 'To the State of Love', which is his happiest non-satirical thing. From the preliminary wish to be a 'Shaker' to the final description of Chanticleer as

That Baron Tell-Clock of the night,

the thing is a kind of a carnival of conceit, a fairy-tale of the fantastic. 'To Julia to expedite her Promise' is somewhat more laboured and so less happy: and the loss of the lyric form in 'The Hecatomb to his Mistress' is considerable. The heroic couplet squares ill with this sort of thing: but the octasyllabic admits it fairly, and so 'The Antiplatonic' with its greater part, and 'Upon Phillis walking' with the whole in this metre, are preferable. Yet it must be acknowledged that one heroic couplet in the former--

Like an ambassador that beds a queen With the nice caution of a sword between,

is worthy of Dryden. Most of the other seria are but nugae: and the chief interest of the 'Edward King' epicede, besides its contrast with Lycidas, is its pretty certain position as model to Dryden's 'Lord Hastings'. But the two 'Mark Antony' pieces and 'Square-Cap' demand, both from the point of view of tone and from that of metre, more attention than was given to them above.

If any one not previously acquainted with the piece or the discussions about it will turn to the text of 'Mark Antony' and read it either aloud or to himself, I should say that, in the common phrase, it is a toss-up what scansion his voice will adopt supposing that he 'commences with the commencement'. The first stanza can run quite agreeably to the usual metrical arrangements of the time, thus:

or, in technical language, a decasyllabic quatrain, like Annus Mirabilis or Gray's Elegy, but with hypercatalexis or redundance in the first and third lines and occasional trochees for iambics; followed by a batch, rhymed a a a b c c b, of seven three-foot lines also iambic. This, which as far as the first quatrain is concerned is very nearly the exact metre of Emily Brontë's Remembrance and of Myers's St. Paul, suits the second and third stanzas as well as the first.

When the reader comes to the fourth stanza, or if, like some irregular spirits, he takes the last first and begins with it, the most obvious scansion, though the lines are syllabically the same, will be different.

(Trisyllabic rhythm either dactylic[7] or anapaestic[8] as may be on general principles preferred.) And this may have occurred to him even with the first as thus:

When ¦ as the | night¦ingale | chan¦ted her | ves¦pers.

Now which of these is to be preferred? and which did the author mean? (two questions which are not so identical as they may seem). My own answer, which I have already given elsewhere,[9] is that both are uncertain, and that he probably had each of the rhythms in his head, but confusedly.[10]

'Square Cap' is much less doubtful, or not doubtful at all, and it may be thought to prove the anapaestic-dactylic scansion, especially the anapaestic of 'Mark Antony'. For it will be observed that, even from the first two verses, you can get no iambic run, except of the most tumbling character, on the line here.

The problem is scarcely one for dogmatic decision, but it is one of some interest, and of itself entitles Cleveland to attention of the prosodic kind. For these pieces are quite early--before 1645--and a third, 'How the Commencement grows new' (q.v.), is undeniably trisyllabic and meant for some such a tune as the 'Sellenger's Round' which it mentions.

With such a combination of interests, political, historical, poetical (as regards school and period), and prosodic, it will hardly be denied that Cleveland deserves his place here. But I must repeat that I am here endeavouring to deal with him strictly on the general principles of this Collection, and am in no way trying to occupy the ground so as to keep out a more elaborate edition. I have had help from my friends Professors Firth and Case in information and correction of contemporary facts; but full comment on Cleveland, from the historical side, would nearly fill this volume: and the problems of the work attributed to him would suffice for a very substantial bibliographical monograph. Neither of these, nor any exhaustive apparatus, even of the textual kind, do I pretend to supply. I simply endeavour--and have spent not a little time and trouble in endeavouring--to provide the student and lover of English literature with an accessible copy, sufficient in amount and fairly trustworthy in substance, of a curious and memorable figure in English verse.[11]

[Footnote 1: Poems of John Cleveland, by John M. Berdan, New York, 1903.]

[Footnote 2: It has been said that we ought to adopt this spelling because of its connexion with a district of Yorkshire, which, before it was ransacked for iron ore, was both wild and beautiful. But as everybody now spells this 'Cleveland', and as the title derived from it has always been so spelt, the argument seems an odd one.]

[Footnote 3: I am not certain that I have seen a copy of this, and its existence has been denied: but I have certainly seen it catalogued somewhere. It should perhaps be added that 1699 is only 1687 with a fresh title.]

[Footnote 4: The most important treatments besides Johnson's, treatments usefully separated in date, are contained in the Retrospective Review (vol. xii), Mr. Gosse's remarks in From Shakespeare to Pope, and Mr. Berdan's in the edition above mentioned.]

[Footnote 5: They were both St. John's men; and Benlowes must have been a benefactor of the College (see Evelyn's Diary) while Cleveland was Fellow. Also Cleveland's Poems had been published, and again and again republished, years before Theophila appeared.]

[Footnote 6: The Retrospective eulogist was deeply hurt by Cleveland's parodying this, and of course drags in Milton once more. 'Could one fancy Milton parodying Lycidas?' Now there is considerable difference between 'Mark Antony' and Lycidas: nor did Cleveland, so far as we know, dream of parodying his own poem on King. If Milton had had the humour to parody some of his own work, it would have been much the better for him and for us. No doubt Cleveland's actual parody is rather coarse and not extraordinarily witty: but there is no more objection to it in principle than to Thackeray's two forms of the 'Willow Song' in Ottilia.]

[Footnote 7: Marked by straight bars.]

[Footnote 8: Marked by dotted bars.]

[Footnote 9: History of English Prosody (London, 1906-10), vol. iii, app. iii.]

[Footnote 10: Very confusedly on the trisyllabic side or ear: for 'In th' [)e]ven[)i]ng' is a very awkward dactyl, and 'th' [)e]ven[=i]ng wh[=i]sp' not a much cleverer anapaest, while the same remark applies to 'fr[=a]gr[)a]nt f[)i]eld' and 'w[=i]th r[=o]s[)e]s' and their anapaestic counterparts.]

[Footnote 11: The extraordinary complexity of the editions of Cleveland has been glanced at above. The following summary will at least give the reader some idea of the facts, and the two original Prefaces will extra-illustrate these facts with some views of causes. It need only be added here that the principle of the collection now given is, of course, to exclude everything that is certainly not Cleveland's: and, in giving what certainly and probably is his, to arrange the items as far as possible in the order of their publication in the author's lifetime, though the impossibility of working with an actually complete collection of all the issues before one may have occasioned some error here. In the following abstract only the Poems are referred to, as they alone concern us.

The original collection is contained in The Character of a London Diurnal [prose] with several select Poems, London, 1647. This was reprinted in the same year and the next so often that some admit thirteen different issues (of course, as was usual at the time, sometimes only 'stop-press' batches with slight changes made in what is practically the same edition), while no one I think has allowed less than five. There are substantive additions in several of these, but the singular characteristic of the whole, and indeed of Cleveland's published Poems generally, is that part of the matter, even in the very earliest issue, is certainly not his: and that in very early forms these pieces were coolly headed 'Uncertain Authors'. The extent to which this jumbling and misattributing went on in the seventeenth century is generally if not very precisely known from the famous cases of Sic Vita (v. inf., on Bishop King, &c.), and of the epitaph sometimes assigned to Browne, more usually to Jonson. Another almost equally strange, though perhaps not so commonly known, is the assignment of some of the poems of a writer of position like the dramatist James Shirley to Carew. But Cleveland must have been rather exceptionally careless of his work during his life, and he was treated with exceptional impudence (see Williamson's Preface) after his death. The process went on in 1651, to which two issues are assigned, with three or four pretty certainly spurious additions, while 1653 and 1654 each saw two more, the last being printed again in 1656 and 1657. This last was also the last printed in Cleveland's lifetime.

But he was hardly dead when in 1659 two different issues, each of them many times reprinted, took the most astounding liberties with his name. The first foisted in more than thirty pieces by Robert Fletcher, the translator of Martial. The other, calling itself Cleveland Revived, contains the remarkable and perfectly frank explanation, given below, of the principles on which the work of Mr. Williamson was conducted, and the critical notions which directed his 'virtuous endeavours'.

From the disaster of this singular fashion of building a poet's monument out of the fragments of other people's work, Cleveland may be said to have never been entirely relieved. For though twenty years later, in 1677 Clievelandi Vindiciae (Preface and full title again subjoined) undertook the task and provided a sort of standard (which may, however, be over-valued), ten years later still, in 1687, the purged collection was reissued with all the spurious matter from previous ones heaped again on it, and this, with a fresh reissue (new title-paged and with a pasted-on finis[A]) in 1699, appear to be the commonest copies that occur.

In such a tangle it is not easy to know how to proceed, and I had made and discarded several plans before I fixed upon that actually adopted. I have taken the edition of 1653, which, with its reprints almost unaltered to 1657, represents the latest text current during the author's life and during a full lustrum of that. The contents of this I have printed, putting its few spuria in italic, in the order in which they there appear. Next, I have given a few additions from 1677 (the only one of the later accessible editions which even pretends to give Cleveland, the whole Cleveland, and nothing but Cleveland) and other sources. As was notified above, complete apparatus criticus is not attempted in a text with such a history, for this would only suit a complete edition of Cleveland's whole works: but variants of apparent importance are supplied. I should add that while I myself have for many years possessed the textus quasi-receptus of 1677, the exceeding kindness of Mr. Case left on my shelves--for a time disgracefully long as far as I am concerned--copies of 1653 itself, 1654, 1659, 1662 (with the 'exquisite remains' of Dick, Tom, and Harry), 1665, 1668, 1669 (with the letters added), and the omnium gatherums of 1687 and 1699. The Bodleian copies of the Poems of 1647, 1651, 1653, 1654, 1657, 1659, 1662, 1668, 1669, 1677, 1687 have also been used to check the collations; and the stitched quartos of The King's Disguise (undated, but known to be 1647) and the News from Newcastle, 1651. The British Museum broadside of The Scots' Apostasy has also been collated. Mr. Berdan's edition I have already mentioned. I have treated the text, as far as modernization of spelling goes, on the same principles as in preceding volumes.[B] ]

[Footnote A: This is apparently peculiar to some, perhaps to one, copy. The British Museum, Bodleian, &c. copies have it not.]

[Footnote B: Since the above Introduction was first written an additional revision of the texts has been made by Mr. Percy Simpson with assistance from Mr. Thorn-Drury, as referred to in the General Preface of this volume. There can be no doubt that their labours, superadded to those of Professor Case, have enabled me to put forth in this edition a text infinitely superior to any previous one, though my part of the credit is the least. Yet, after all, I dare say Cleveland remains, as he has been impartially described, 'a terrible tangle'.]

CONTENTS

PAGE

Preface of Cleaveland Revived 15

Preface of Clievelandi Vindiciae 17

POEMS FROM THE 1653 EDITION: To the State of Love 19 The Hecatomb to his Mistress 21 Upon Sir Thomas Martin 24 On the Memory of Mr. Edward King 26 Upon an Hermaphrodite 28 The Author's Hermaphrodite 30 * _To the Hectors upon the unfortunate death of H. Compton_ 32 Square-Cap 33 Upon Phillis walking in a morning before sun-rising 35 Upon a Miser that made a great feast, and the next day died for grief 36 A Young Man to an Old Woman courting him 39 To Mrs. K. T. 41 A Fair Nymph scorning a Black Boy courting her 42 A Dialogue between two Zealots upon the &c. in the Oath 43 Smectymnuus, or the Club-Divines 45 The Mixed Assembly 49 The King's Disguise 52 The Rebel Scot 56 The Scots' Apostasy 60 Rupertismus 62 Epitaph on the Earl of Strafford 67 An Elegy upon the Archbishop of Canterbury 68 * On I. W. A .B. of York 69 Mark Antony 71 The Author's Mock Song to Mark Antony 72 How the Commencement grows new 73 The Hue and Cry after Sir John Presbyter 75 The Antiplatonic 77 Fuscara, or the Bee Errant 79 * _An Elegy upon Doctor Chad[d]erton, the first Master of Emanuel College in Cambridge_ 81 * Mary's Spikenard 82 To Julia to expedite her Promise 83

POEMS IN 1677 BUT NOT IN 1653: Upon Princess Elizabeth, born the night before New Year's Day 85 The General Eclipse 85 Upon the King's Return from Scotland 86

POEMS CERTAINLY OR PROBABLY GENUINE, NOT IN 1653 OR 1677: An Elegy on Ben Jonson 87 News from Newcastle 88 An Elegy upon King Charles the First 92

As stated above, it has been thought better to follow the miscellaneous arrangement of 1653 than the classified but not strictly chronological one of 1677. For those, however, who may desire it, the chronological order of the political poems is here added: 1637-8, Princess Elizabeth's Birth; 1640, A Dialogue; 1641, Epitaph on Strafford, Smectymnuus, The King's Return; 1642, Rupertismus; 1643, Upon Sir Thomas Martin, The Mixed Assembly; 1643-4, The Rebel Scot, The Scots' Apostasy; 1645, The Hue and Cry, Elegy on Laud, The General Eclipse, The King's Disguise; 1649, Elegy on Charles I.

Preface of Cleaveland Revived

To the Discerning Reader.

Worthy Friend, there is a saying, Once well done, and ever done; the wisest men have so considerately acted in their times, as by their learned works to build their own monuments, such as might eternize them to future ages: our Jonson named his, Works, when others were called Plays, though they cost him much of the lamp and oil; yet he so writ, as to oblige posterity to admire them. Our deceased Hero, Mr. Cleveland, knew how to difference legitimate births from abortives, his mighty genius anvilled out what he sent abroad, as his informed mind knew how to distinguish betwixt writing much and well; a few of our deceased poet's pages being worth cartloads of the scribblers of these times. It was my fortune to be in Newark, when it was besieged, where I saw a few [some] manuscripts of Mr. Cleveland's. Amongst others I have heard that he writ of the Treaty at Uxbridge, as I have been informed since by a person I intrusted to speak with one of Mr. Cleveland's noble friends, who received him courteously, and satisfied his inquiries; as concerning the papers that were left in his custody, more particularly of the Treaty at Uxbridge, that it was not finished, nor any of his other papers fit for the press. They were offered to the judicious consideration of one of the most accomplished persons of our age, he refusing to have them in any further examination, as he did not conceive that they could be published without some injury to Mr. Cleveland; from which time they have remained sealed and locked up: neither can I wonder at this obstruction, when I consider the disturbances our author met with in the time of the siege, how scarce and bad the paper was, the ink hardly to be discerned on it. The intimacy I had with Mr. Cleveland before and since these civil wars, gained most of these papers from him, it being not the least of his misfortunes, out of the love he had to pleasure his friends, to be unfurnished with his own manuscripts, as I have heard him say often. He was not so happy as to have any considerable collection of his own papers, they being dispersed amongst his friends; some whereof when he writ for them, he had no other answer, but that they were lost, or through the often reading, transcribing, or folding of them, worn to pieces. So that though he knew where he formerly bestowed some of them, yet they were not to be regained. For which reason, the poems he had left in his hands being so few, [and] of so inconsiderable [small] a volume, he could not (though he was often solicited) with honour to himself give his consent to the publishing of them, though indeed most of his former printed poems were truly his own, except such as have been lately added, to make up the volume. At the first some few of his verses were printed with the[2] character of the London Diurnal, a stitched pamphlet in quarto. Afterwards, as I have heard Mr. Cleveland say, the copies of verses that he communicated to his friends, the book-seller by chance meeting with them, being added to his book, they sold him another impression; in like manner such small additions (though but a paper or two of his incomparable verses or prose) posted off other editions, [whereas this edition hath the happiness to flourish with the remainder of Mr. Cleveland's last never before printed pieces.] I acknowledge some few of these papers I received [many of these last new printed papers] from one of Mr. Cleveland's near acquaintance, which when I sent to his ever to be honoured friend of Grays-Inn, he had not at that time the leisure to peruse them; but for what he had read of them, he told the person I intrusted, that he did believe them to be Mr. Cleveland's, he having formerly spoken of such papers of his, that were abroad in the hands of his friends, whom he could not remember. My intention was to reserve the collection of these manuscripts for my own private use; but finding many of these I had in my hands already published in the former poems, not knowing what further proceedings might attend the forwardness of the press, I thought myself concerned, not out of any worldly [unworthy] ends of profit, but out of a true affection to my deceased friend, to publish these his never [other] before extant pieces in Latin and English and to make this to be somewhat [like] a volume for the study. Some other poems are intermixed, such as the reader shall find to be of such persons as were for the most part Mr. Cleveland's contemporaries; some of them no less eminently known to the three nations. I hope the world cannot be so far mistaken in his genuine muse, as not to discern his pieces from any of the other poems; neither can I believe there are any persons so unkind, as not candidly to entertain the heroic fancies of the other gentlemen that are worthily placed to live in this volume. Some of their poems, contrary to my expectation--I being at such a distance--I have since heard[3] were before in print, but as they are excellently good and so few, the [but in this second edition I have crossed them out, only reserving those that were excellently good, and never before extant. The] reader (I hope) will the more freely accept them. Thus having ingenuously satisfied thee in these particulars, I shall not need to insert more; but that I have, to prevent surreptitious editions, published this collection; that by erecting this Pyramid of Honour, I might oblige posterity to perpetuate their memories, which is the highest ambition of him, who is,

Newark. Nov. 21, 1658.

Yours in all virtuous endeavours, E. WILLIAMSON.

[Footnote 1: This singular production is, in the original, punctuated after a fashion very suitable, in its entire irrationality, to the sentiments of its writer; but I have taken the liberty (and no other) of relieving the reader of an additional burden by at least separating the sentences. The second edition of 1660 shows some alterations which are given above in brackets.

Whether Mr. Williamson was one of the most impudent persons in the world, or merely (which seems more probable) an abject fool, may be left to the reader to determine. The thing does not seem to require much, if any, annotation. The author, I think, is not otherwise known, and the name is common enough. The well-known Secretary Williamson must have been his contemporary, and may have had some connexion with our paragon besides that of Cavalier principles. But he was Joseph.]

[Footnote 2: 'a character' 1662 (third edition).]

[Footnote 3: 'I have since heard' omitted in 1662.]

The Stationer to the Reader.

Courteous Reader, thy free Acceptance of the former edition, encouraged me so far as to use my best diligence to gain what still remained in the hands of the Author's friends. I acknowledge myself to be obliged to Mr. Williamson, whose worthy example Mr. Cleveland's other honourers have since pursued. I shall not trouble thee, Reader, with any further Apologies, but only subscribe Mr. W. W. his last Verses in his following Elegy on Mr. Cleveland.

That Plagiary that can filch but one Conceit from Him, and keep the Theft unknown, At Noon from Phoebus, may by the same sleight, Steal Beams, and make 'em pass for his own light.

To the Right Worshipful and Reverend Francis Turner, D.D., Master of St. John's College in Cambridge, and to the Worthy Fellows of the same College.

GENTLEMEN,

That we interrupt your more serious studies with the offer of this piece, the injury that hath been and is done to the deceased author's ashes not only pleadeth our excuse, but engageth you (whose once he was, and within whose walls this standard of wit was first set up) in the same quarrel with us.

Whilst Randolph and Cowley lie embalmed in their own native wax, how is the name and memory of Cleveland equally profaned by those that usurp, and those that blaspheme it?--by those that are ambitious to lay their cuckoo's eggs in his nest, and those that think to raise up Ph[oe]nixes of wit by firing his spicy bed about him?

We know you have, not without passionate resentments, beheld the prostitution of his name in some late editions vended under it, wherein his orations are murthered over and over in barbarous Latin, and a more barbarous translation: and wherein is scarce one or other poem of his own to commute for all the rest. At least every Cuirassier of his hath a fulsome dragooner behind him, and Venus is again unequally yoked with a sooty anvil-beater. Cleveland thus revived dieth another death.

You cannot but have beheld with like zealous indignation how enviously our late mushroom-wits look up at him because he overdroppeth them, and snarl at his brightness as dogs at the Moon.

Some of these grand Sophys will not allow him the reputation of wit at all: yet how many such authors must be creamed and spirited to make up his Fuscara?[2] And how many of their slight productions may be gigged[3] out of one of his pregnant words? There perhaps you may find some leaf-gold, here massy wedges; there some scattered rays, here a galaxy; there some loose fancy frisking in the air, here Wit's Zodiac.

The quarrel in all this is upbraiding merit, and eminence his crime. His towering[4] fancy scareth so high a pitch that they fly like shades below him. The torrent thereof (which riseth far above their high water mark) drowneth their levels. Usurping upon the State Poetic of the time, he hath brought in such insolent measures of Wit and Language that, despairing to imitate, they must study to understand. That alone is Wit with them to which they are commensurate, and what exceedeth their scantling[5] is monstrous.

Thus they deifie[6] his Wit and Fancy as the clown the plump oyster when he could not crack it. And now instead of that strenuous masculine style which breatheth in this author, we have only an enervous effeminate froth offered, as if they had taken the salivating pill before they set pen to paper. You must hold your breath in the perusal lest the jest vanish by blowing on.

Another blemish in this monster of perfection is the exuberance of his fancy. His manna lieth so thick upon the ground they loathe it. When he should only fan, he with hurricanos of wit stormeth the sense, and doth not so much delight his reader, as oppress and overwhelm him.

To cure this excess, their frugal wit hath reduced the world to a Lessian Diet.[7] If perhaps they entertain their reader with one good thought (as these new Dictators affect to speak) he may sit down and say Grace over it: the rest is words and nothing else.

We will leave them therefore to the most proper vengeance, to humour themselves with the perusal of their own poems: and leave the barber to rub their thick skulls with bran[8] until they are fit for musk. Only we will leave this friendly advice with them; that they have one eye upon John Tradescant's executor,[9] lest among his other Minims of Art and Nature he expose their slight conceits: and another upon the Royal Society, lest they make their poems the counterbalance when they intend to weigh air.

From these unequal censures we appeal to such competent judges as yourselves, in whose just value of him Cleveland shall live the wonder of his own, and the pattern of succeeding ages. And although we might (upon several accompts) bespeak your affections, yet (abstracting from these) we submit him to your severer judgements, and doubt not but he will find that patronage from you which is desired and expected by

Your humble Servants.

J. L. S. D.[10]

[Footnote 1: Here we get into terra cognita as regards authorship. The editors had been, both of them, Cleveland's pupils at St. John's. 'J. L.' was John Lake (1624-1689), a man of great distinction--at this time Vicar of Leeds and Prebendary of York, later Bishop, first of Sodor and Man and then of Chichester, who while he held the last-named see had the double glory of withstanding James II as one of 'the Seven', and of refusing the Oath to William. 'S. D.' was also a Yorkshire clergyman--Samuel Drake--who had not only studied under Cleveland at Cambridge, but fought under him at Newark. He became Vicar of Pontefract; but (if the D.N.B. is right in assigning his death to the year 1673) his work on the great vindication of his tutor must have been done some time before publication. Francis Turner (1638-1700), of a much younger generation and an Oxford man, though admitted ad eundem at Cambridge in 1662, had been Master of St. John's College since 1670, and was therefore properly selected as chief dedicatee. He was destined to be connected with Lake again in the great actions above noted as Bishop of Ely, and for the last ten years of his life was an active Jacobite agent.]

[Footnote 2: The description of Cleaveland Revived in the third paragraph is perfectly just, and 'anvil-beater' is an obvious echo-gibe at Williamson's own phraseology. It is less certain what 'grand Sophys' are specially referred to further on--but Dryden might be one.]

[Footnote 3: A Clevelandish word; v. infra, p. 65 (Rupertismus, l. 120).]

[Footnote 4: In orig., as often, 'touring', but to print this nowadays would invite misconception.]

[Footnote 5: 'Scantling' is used in various senses. Either that of 'rough draft' or, as in Taylor, 'small piece' would do; but it is at least possible that it is not a noun at all, but a direct participle from the verb to 'scantle', found in Drayton, and meaning 'to be deficient', 'come short'. Some, however, prefer the sense 'dimension' or 'measurement', which would make it a sort of varied repetition of 'commensurate'.]

[Footnote 6: 'Deifie' is of course wrong. 'Defy' is likeliest, and in a certain sense (frequent in Elizabethan writers) would do; but 'decry' seems wanted.]

[Footnote 7: A common phrase for an earlier 'Banting' regime derived from the Hygiasticon (Antwerp, 1623) of Leonard Lessius (1554-1624). I owe this information to the kindness of Dr. Comrie, Lecturer on the History of Medicine in the University of Edinburgh. The next sentence may, or rather must, be a reference to (in fact, a fling at) Dryden, Essay of Dramatic Poesy (vol. i, p. 52, ed. Ker, Oxford, 1900), who censures Cleveland for not giving 'a great thought' in 'words ... commonly received'. I owe the reminder of this to Mr. Thorn-Drury.]

[Footnote 8: The use of bran for shampooing is not perhaps so well known as that for poultices, foot-baths, &c. It is always a softener as well as a detergent.]

[Footnote 9: Ashmole.]

[Footnote 10: Perhaps I should add a very few words explaining why I have not made this 'authenticated' edition the base of mine. I have not done so because the editors, excellent as was evidently their intention, have after all given us no reasons for their exclusions and inclusions; because, though they have corrected some obvious errors, their readings by no means always intrinsically commend themselves to me; and especially because the distance between 1647 and 1677 reflects itself, to no small degree, in a certain definite modernisation of form, grammatical and prosodic. 1653 has much more contemporariness.]

POEMS.

To the State of Love. Or the Senses' Festival.

I saw a vision yesternight, Enough to sate a Seeker's sight; I wished myself a Shaker there, And her quick pants my trembling sphere. It was a she so glittering bright, You'd think her soul an Adamite; A person of so rare a frame, Her body might be lined with' same. Beauty's chiefest maid of honour, You may break Lent with looking on her. 10 Not the fair Abbess of the skies, With all her nunnery of eyes, Can show me such a glorious prize!

And yet, because 'tis more renown To make a shadow shine, she's brown; A brown for which Heaven would disband The galaxy, and stars be tanned; Brown by reflection as her eye Deals out the summer's livery. Old dormant windows must confess 20 Her beams; their glimmering spectacles, Struck with the splendour of her face, Do th' office of a burning-glass. Now where such radiant lights have shown, No wonder if her cheeks be grown Sunburned, with lustre of her own.

My sight took pay, but (thank my charms!) I now impale her in mine arms; (Love's compasses confining you, Good angels, to a circle too.) 30 Is not the universe strait-laced When I can clasp it in the waist? My amorous folds about thee hurled, With Drake I girdle in the world; I hoop the firmament, and make This, my embrace, the zodiac. How would thy centre take my sense When admiration doth commence At the extreme circumference?

Now to the melting kiss that sips 40 The jellied philtre of her lips; So sweet there is no tongue can praise 't Till transubstantiate with a taste. Inspired like Mahomet from above By th' billing of my heavenly dove, Love prints his signets in her smacks, Those ruddy drops of squeezing wax, Which, wheresoever she imparts, They're privy seals to take up hearts. Our mouths encountering at the sport, 50 My slippery soul had quit the fort, But that she stopped the sally-port.

Next to these sweets, her lips dispense (As twin conserves of eloquence) The sweet perfume her breath affords, Incorporating with her words. No rosary this vot'ress needs-- Her very syllables are beads; No sooner 'twixt those rubies born, But jewels are in ear-rings worn. 60 With what delight her speech doth enter; It is a kiss o' th' second venter. And I dissolve at what I hear, As if another Rosamond were Couched in the labyrinth of my ear.

Yet that 's but a preludious bliss, Two souls pickeering in a kiss. Embraces do but draw the line, 'Tis storming that must take her in. When bodies join and victory hovers 70 'Twixt the equal fluttering lovers, This is the game; make stakes, my dear! Hark, how the sprightly chanticleer (That Baron Tell-clock of the night) Sounds boutesel to Cupid's knight. Then have at all, the pass is got, For coming off, oh, name it not! Who would not die upon the spot?

[To the State of Love, &c. appeared first 1651. The stanzas are not divided in the early editions, but are so in 1677. Carew's Rapture may have given some suggestions, Apuleius and Lucretius also; but not much is required. The substance is shocking to pure prudery, no doubt; but, as observed in the introduction, there is perhaps more gusto in the execution than in Fuscara.

A copy of this poem, with many minor variants, is in Bodleian MS. Tanner 306, fol. 424: it has one noteworthy reading, 'took sey', i.e. 'say' or 'assay'--the hunting term--in l. 27.]

[Lines: 2, 3 The use of capitals in the seventeenth century is so erratic that it is dangerous to base much on it. But both 'Seekers' and 'Shakers' (a variant of 'Quakers') were actually among the countless sects of the time, as well of course as 'Adamites'. 1651. 1653, 1654, and 1657 have 'tempt' for 1677 'sate'.]

[Line: 4 pants 1677: 'pulse' 1651, 1653, 1654, 1657.]

[Line: 10 'You'd break a Lent' 1651, 1653.]

[Lines: 11-13 Benlowes's lines (v. sup. i. 356)--

The lady prioress of the cloistered sky, &c.--

are more poetic than these, but may be less original. Even that, however, is uncertain. Both poets, though Benlowes was a good deal the elder, were of St. John's, and must, even in other ways, have known each other: Theophila appeared a year after the edition in which this poem was first included. But the indebtedness may be the other way, or common to an earlier original, or non-existent.]

[Line: 19 Deals out] The earlier texts have 'Dazzle's', but 1677 seems here to have introduced the true reading found also in the MS. 'Deals out' is far more poetical: the eye clothes with its own reflection sky and stars, and earth.]

[Lines: 20-3 The punctuation of all editions, including Mr. Berdan's, makes these lines either totally unintelligible, or very confused, by putting a stop at 'spectacles' and none at 'beams'. That adopted in the text makes it quite clear.]

[Line: 30 circle] 'compass' 1651, 1653, evidently wrong.]

[Line: 33 It is not impossible that Aphra Behn had these lines unconsciously in her head when she wrote her own finest passage. Unconsciously, for the drift is quite different; but 'hurled', 'amorous', and 'world' come close together in both.]

[Line: 34 1651, 1653 again 'compass' for 'girdle'.]

[Line: 37 'would', the reading of 1651, 1653, infinitely better than 'could', that of 1677.]

[Line: 45 In this pyramidally metaphysical passage Cleveland does not quite play the game. Mahomet's pigeon did not kiss him. But 'privy seals to take up hearts' is very dear to fancy, most delicate, and of liberal conceit. So also 'jewels are in ear-rings worn' below; where the game is played to its rigour, though the reader may not at first see it.]

[Line: 46 his] 'her' 1651, 1653; but it clearly should be 'his', which is in 1677.]

[Line: 53 1651, 1653 read 'Next to those sweets her lips dispense', nescio an melius.]

[Line: 61 her] 'our,' a variant of one edition (1665) is all wrong.]

[Line: 62 Mr. Berdan has strangely misinterpreted 'venter'. The phrase is quite a common one--'of the second marriage.' The first kiss comes of lip and lip, the second of lip and love.]

[Line: 67 pickeering] 'marauding', 'skirmishing in front of an army'.]

[Line: 70 For 'join' [jine] 1651, 1653 and others have 'whine'--suggesting the Latin gannitus frequent in such contexts. But 'join' must be right. Professor Gordon points out that the passage is a reminiscence of Donne, in his Extasie:

As 'twixt two equall Armies, Fate Suspends uncertaine victorie, Our soules (which to advance their state Were gone out,) hung 'twixt her, and mee.(13-16.)

This is contrasted with the bodily 'entergrafting' of l. 9, &c.]

[Line: 74 When 'prose and sense' came in they were very contemptuous of this Baron Tell-clock. But the image is complete, congruous, and capable of being championed.]

[Line: 75 'Boutesel' of course = 'boot and saddle', albeit 'boute' does not mean 'boot'.]

The Hecatomb to his Mistress.

Be dumb, you beggars of the rhyming trade, Geld your loose wits and let your Muse be spayed. Charge not the parish with the bastard phrase Of balm, elixir, both the Indias, Of shrine, saint, sacrilege, and such as these Expressions common as your mistresses. Hence, you fantastic postillers in song. My text defeats your art, ties Nature's tongue, Scorns all her tinselled metaphors of pelf, Illustrated by nothing but herself. 10 As spiders travel by their bowels spun Into a thread, and, when the race is run, Wind up their journey in a living clew, So is it with my poetry and you. From your own essence must I first untwine, Then twist again each panegyric line. Reach then a soaring quill that I may write, As with a Jacob's staff, to take her height. Suppose an angel, darting through the air, Should there encounter a religious prayer 20 Mounting to Heaven, that Intelligence Should for a Sunday-suit thy breath condense Into a body.--Let me crack a string In venturing higher; were the note I sing Above Heaven's Ela, should I then decline, And with a deep-mouthed gamut sound the line From pole to pole, I could not reach her worth, Nor find an epithet to set it forth. Metals may blazon common beauties; she Makes pearls and planets humble heraldry. 30 As, then, a purer substance is defined But by a heap of negatives combined, Ask what a spirit is, you'll hear them cry It hath no matter, no mortality: So can I not define how sweet, how fair; Only I say she 's not as others are. For what perfections we to others grant, It is her sole perfection to want. All other forms seem in respect of thee The almanac's misshaped anatomy, 40 Where Aries head and face, Bull neck and throat, The Scorpion gives the secrets, knees the Goat; A brief of limbs foul as those beasts, or are Their namesake signs in their strange character. As the philosophers to every sense Marry its object, yet with some dispense, And grant them a polygamy with all, And these their common sensibles they call: So is 't with her who, stinted unto none, Unites all senses in each action. 50 The same beam heats and lights; to see her well Is both to hear and feel, to taste and smell. For, can you want a palate in your eyes, When each of hers contains a double prize, Venus's apple? Can your eyes want nose When from each cheek buds forth a fragrant rose? Or can your sight be deaf to such a quick And well-tuned face, such moving rhetoric? Doth not each look a flash of lightning feel Which spares the body's sheath, and melts the steel? 60 Thy soul must needs confess, or grant thy sense Corrupted with the object's excellence. Sweet magic, which can make five senses lie Conjured within the circle of an eye! In whom, since all the five are intermixed, Oh now that Scaliger would prove his sixt! Thou man of mouth, that canst not name a she Unless all Nature pay a subsidy, Whose language is a tax, whose musk-cat verse Voids nought but flowers, for thy Muse's hearse 70 Fitter than Celia's looks, who in a trice Canst state the long disputed Paradise, And (what Divines hunt with so cold a scent) Canst in her bosom find it resident; Now come aloft, come now, and breathe a vein, And give some vent unto thy daring strain. Say the astrologer who spells the stars, In that fair alphabet reads peace and wars, Mistakes his globe and in her brighter eye Interprets Heaven's physiognomy. 80 Call her the Metaphysics of her sex, And say she tortures wits as quartans vex Physicians; call her the square circle; say She is the very rule of Algebra. What e'er thou understand'st not, say 't of her, For that 's the way to write her character. Say this and more, and when thou hopest to raise Thy fancy so as to inclose her praise-- Alas poor Gotham, with thy cuckoo-hedge! Hyperboles are here but sacrilege. 90 Then roll up, Muse, what thou hast ravelled out, Some comments clear not, but increase the doubt. She that affords poor mortals not a glance Of knowledge, but is known by ignorance; She that commits a rape on every sense, Whose breath can countermand a pestilence; She that can strike the best invention dead Till baffled poetry hangs down the head-- She, she it is that doth contain all bliss, And makes the world but her periphrasis. 100

[The Hecatomb to his Mistress.] (1651.) This poem is perhaps the best text to prove (or endeavour to prove) that Cleveland's object was really burlesque.]

[Line: 1 you] 'ye' 1651, 1653.]

[Line: 2 1651, 1653 read 'the' for 'your', and 'splaid': 'spade' 1677. 'Spay' or 'splay' to destroy the reproductive powers of a female.]

[Line: 3 the bastard] 1677 again alters 'the' to 'your', which does not seem good.]

[Line: 5 sacrilege] sacrifice 1677.]

[Line: 6 your] their 1653, &c.]

[Line: 7 postillers] The word means glossers or commentators on Scripture, and has acquired in several languages a contemptuous meaning from the frequently commonplace and trivial character of such things. 'ye fantastic' 1653.]

[Line: 9 1651, 1653 have 'his' for 'her', and in the next line 'his self' for 'herself'. The poem is particularly badly printed in this group, and I think the 1677 editors, in trying to mend it, have mistaken some places. Thus in ...]

[Line: 22 They print 'Would' for 'Should'. This may look better at first; but I at least can make no real sense of it. With 'Should' I can make some. The poet starts an extravagant comparison in 19-21; continues it in '[suppose] that Intelligence should', &c.; finds it will not do, and breaks it off with the parenthetical 'Let me' &c. To bring this out I have inserted the --.]

[Line: 24 1677 'And venture', with a full-stop at 'higher', not so well; but in ...]

[Line: 25 '_un_decline' 1651, 1653, &c. is nonsense; while in the next line 'sound agen' either points to a complete breakdown or indicates that, on the most recent Cockney principles, 'again' could be pronounced 'ag_ine_' and rhymes à la Mrs. Browning. The text is 1677.]

[Line: 28 set] shadow 1677.]

[Line: 35 define] describe 1677.]

[Line: 37 perfections 1651, 1653: perfection 1677.]

[Line: 43 brief = 'list'.]

[Line: 44 name-sak'd 1651, 1653.]

[Line: 45 the] your 1677.]

[Line: 52 1677, not nearly so well, 'see and' for 'feel, to'. You want the list of senses completed and summed up by such a palate in 'see', which, repeated, spoils all.]

[Line: 54 1651, 1653 have 'his' for 'hers'; but 'a double prize' is more vivid if less strictly defensible than 'the beauteous' of 1677. So in 56 1677 opens with 'Seeing each' instead of 'When from'--much feebler. But in 57-8 The text, which is 1677, is better than 1653:

Or can the sight be deaf if she but speak, A well-tuned face, such moving rhetoric?

which indeed is, if not nonsense, most clumsily expressed, even if comma at 'face' be deleted.]

[Line: 60 and melts] yet melts 1677.]

[Line: 66 'sixt' 1651, 1653, 1677.]

[Lines: 70-1 The punctuation of the old texts--no comma at 'flowers' and one at 'hearse'--makes the passage hard to understand. As I have altered this punctuation, it is clear.]

[Line: 73 what Divines] 1651, 1653, &c. 'with Divines'.]

[Line: 75 come now 1677: come, come 1651, 1653.]

[Line: 83 square] squared 1677. If all this is not burlesque it is very odd.]

[Line: 85 you undertake not 1651, 1653.]

[Line: 91 roll] rouse 1651, 1653. ravelled] revealed 1651, 1653.]

[Line: 98 the] her 1651, 1653.]

[Line: 100 The hundred lines making the _heca_tomb--and the metaphysical matter the subject of sacrifice.]

Upon Sir Thomas Martin,

Who subscribed a Warrant thus: 'We the Knights and Gentlemen of the Committee,' &c. when there was no Knight but himself.

Hang out a flag and gather pence--A piece Which Afric never bred nor swelling Greece With stories' tympany, a beast so rare No lecturer's wrought cap, nor Bartholomew Fair Can match him; nature's whimsey, that outvies Tradescant and his ark of novelties; The Gog and Magog of prodigious sights, With reverence to your eyes, Sir Thomas Knights. But is this bigamy of titles due? Are you Sir Thomas and Sir Martin too? 10 Issachar couchant 'twixt a brace of sirs, Thou knighthood in a pair of panniers; Thou, that look'st, wrapped up in thy warlike leather, Like Valentine and Orson bound together; Spurs' representative! thou, that art able To be a voider to King Arthur's table; Who, in this sacrilegious mass of all, It seems has swallowed Windsor's Hospital; Pair-royal-headed Cerberus's cousin. Hercules' labours were a baker's dozen, 20 Had he but trumped on thee, whose forked neck Might well have answered at the font for Smec. But can a knighthood on a knighthood lie? Metal on metal is ill armory; And yet the known Godfrey of Bouillon's coat Shines in exception to the herald's vote. Great spirits move not by pedantic laws; Their actions, though eccentric, state the cause, And Priscian bleeds with honour. Caesar thus Subscribed two consuls with one Julius. 30 Tom, never oaded squire, scarce yeoman-high, Is Tom twice dipped, knight of a double dye! Fond man, whose fate is in his name betrayed! It is the setting sun doubles his shade. But it 's no matter, for amphibious he May have a knight hanged, yet Sir Tom go free!

[Upon Sir Thomas Martin.] (1651.) We here turn to the other side of Cleveland's work, where jest and earnest are combined in a very different fashion. Martin was a member of the Committee of Sequestration appointed under the Act of April 1, 1643, which, in a more fearless and thoroughgoing fashion than that of some later legislation, confiscated in a lump the property of certain bishops and of political opponents generally. The sequestrators for Cambridge were this man and two other knights--Sir Dudley North and Sir John Cutts; with two esquires--a Captain Symonds and Dudley Pope.]

[Line: 1 'pence apiece' 1651, which makes doubtful sense. 1653, 1677, and all others before me, have 'pence a piece', which I believe to be careless printing for the text above. The 'piece' is the same as the 'beast', and the brackets which follow in the originals are a printer's error. 'Piece', in this sense of 'rare object', is not uncommon. Cf. Prospero's 'Thy mother was a piece of virtue.' 'Pence apiece' (about the same as the Scotch fishwife's 'pennies each'), if not, as Mr. Berdan says, 'proverbial', is certainly a perfectly common expression, still I think existing, but it is difficult to see how what follows can thus suit it. 'Which' must have an antecedent.]

[Line: 4 'Bartlemew' 1651, 1653: 'Bartholmew' 1654. The word was, of course, pronounced 'Bartlemy,' and almost dissyllabically.]

[Line: 5 that outvies] 1651, 1653 'one that outvies', perhaps rightly.]

[Line: 6 Tredeskin 1651, 1653: Tredescant 1677.]

[Line: 11 The reference to the animal between two burdens to whom Issachar is biblically compared (Gen. xlix. 14) is perhaps meant to be additionally pointed by 'Sir Martin', the latter being one of the story-names of the much-enduring beast.]

[Line: 16 voider] The servant who clears the table; also, but here less probably, the tray or basket used for the purpose.]

[Line: 18 The 'Poor Knights of Windsor' having fallen, like other institutions, into the maw of plebeian and Puritan plunder.]

[Line: 19 The hyphen at 'Pair-royal', which Mr. Berdan has dropped, is important, the term being technical in certain card-games and meaning three cards of the same value--kings, &c.]

[Line: 21 trumped on thee = turned thee up like a trump.]

[Line: 22 'Smec'--of course--'tymnuus', and used both for the sake of contempt and as denoting a plurality of person.]

[Line: 24 The principle of this line is of course part of the A B C of the more modern and dogmatic heraldry: the application will lie either on sword or spur, the two characteristic insignia of knighthood and both metallic. 1677 changed 'ill armory' to 'false heraldry', and Scott was probably thinking of this line when he made Prince John and Wamba between them use the phrase in Ivanhoe.]

[Line: 25 Godfrey's arms as King of Jerusalem--five golden crosses on a silver shield--were commonly quoted, as Cleveland quotes them, in special exception to the rule. But my friend Mr. F. P. Barnard, Professor of Mediaeval Archaeology in the University of Liverpool, to whom I owe the materials of this note, tells me that he has collected many other cases, English and foreign. The objection, however, was originally a practical one, metal on metal and colour on colour being difficult to distinguish in the field. It passed into a technical rule later.]

[Line: 29 Priscian's head may not have bled here before it was broken by Butler; but the dates of the writing of Hudibras are quite uncertain.]

[Line: 31 oaded] This singular word is in all the editions I have seen. 1699 makes it 'loaded', with no sense that I can see in this passage. Can it be 'oathèd'--be sworn either to the commission of the peace or something else that gave the title 'Esquire'? 'Oad', however, = woad; cf. Minsheu, Guide into Tongues, 1617 'Oade, an hearbe. Vide Woade'. This would certainly suit the next line.]

On the memory of Mr. Edward King, drowned in the Irish Seas.

I like not tears in tune, nor do I prize His artificial grief who scans his eyes. Mine weep down pious beads, but why should I Confine them to the Muse's rosary? I am no poet here; my pen 's the spout Where the rain-water of mine eyes run out In pity of that name, whose fate we see Thus copied out in grief's hydrography. The Muses are not mermaids, though upon His death the ocean might turn Helicon. 10 The sea's too rough for verse; who rhymes upon 't With Xerxes strives to fetter th' Hellespont. My tears will keep no channel, know no laws To guide their streams, but (like the waves, their cause) Run with disturbance, till they swallow me As a description of his misery. But can his spacious virtue find a grave Within th' imposthumed bubble of a wave? Whose learning if we sound, we must confess The sea but shallow, and him bottomless. 20 Could not the winds to countermand thy death With their whole card of lungs redeem thy breath? Or some new island in thy rescue peep To heave thy resurrection from the deep, That so the world might see thy safety wrought With no less wonder than thyself was thought? The famous Stagirite (who in his life Had Nature as familiar as his wife) Bequeathed his widow to survive with thee, Queen Dowager of all philosophy. 30 An ominous legacy, that did portend Thy fate and predecessor's second end. Some have affirmed that what on earth we find, The sea can parallel in shape and kind. Books, arts, and tongues were wanting, but in thee Neptune hath got an university. We'll dive no more for pearls; the hope to see Thy sacred reliques of mortality Shall welcome storms, and make the seamen prize His shipwreck now more than his merchandise. 40 He shall embrace the waves, and to thy tomb As to a Royaller Exchange shall come. What can we now expect? Water and fire, Both elements our ruin do conspire. And that dissolves us which doth us compound: One Vatican was burnt, another drowned. We of the gown our libraries must toss To understand the greatness of our loss; Be pupils to our grief, and so much grow In learning, as our sorrows overflow. 50 When we have filled the rundlets of our eyes We'll issue 't forth and vent such elegies As that our tears shall seem the Irish Seas, We floating islands, living Hebrides.

[On the Memory of Mr. Edward King.] First printed in the memorial volume of Cambridge verse to King, 1638; included in the Poems of 1651. It is of course easy (and it may be feared that it has too often been done) to contrast this disadvantageously with Lycidas. A specific or generic comparison, bringing out the difference of ephemeral and eternal style in verse, will not be found unprofitable and is almost as easy to make. No reader of Milton--and any one who has not read Milton is very unlikely to read this--can need information on King or on the circumstances of his death. 1651 and 1653 add a spurious duplicate, the last fourteen lines of W. More's elegy which followed Cleveland's in the Cambridge volume.

* On the Same.

Tell me no more of Stoics: canst thou tell Who 'twas that when the waves began to swell, The ship to sink, sad passengers to call 'Master, we perish'--slept secure of all? Remember this, and him that waking kept A mind as constant as he did that slept. Canst thou give credit to his zeal and love That went to Heaven, and to those flames above, Wrapt in a fiery chariot? Since I heard Who 'twas, that on his knees the vessel steered With hands bolt up to Heaven, since I see As yet no signs of his mortality,-- Pardon me, Reader, if I say he's gone The self-same journey in a wat'ry one. ]

[Line: 1 do] will 1638.]

[Line: 2 who] that 1638.]

[Line: 6 1651 'runs': all other editions (including 1638) 'run'. The attraction to 'eyes' is one of the commonest of things.]

[Line: 10 The everlasting confusion of 'mount' and 'fount' occurs in 'Helicon.']

[Line: 26 wonder] miracle 1638.]

[Line: 34 1638, 1677, and later editions read, harmlessly but needlessly, 'for shape'.]

[Line: 46 'Vatican' used (as Mr. Berdan justly notes) as = 'library'.

Cleveland's warmest defenders must admit that this epicede is a triumph of 'frigidity'. And the personal note which Lycidas itself has been unfairly accused of wanting is here non-existent to my eyes, though some have discovered it.]

Upon an Hermaphrodite.

Sir, or Madam, choose you whether! Nature twists you both together And makes thy soul two garbs confess, Both petticoat and breeches dress. Thus we chastise the God of Wine With water that is feminine, Until the cooler nymph abate His wrath, and so concorporate. Adam, till his rib was lost, Had both sexes thus engrossed. 10 When Providence our Sire did cleave, And out of Adam carved Eve, Then did man 'bout wedlock treat, To make his body up complete. Thus matrimony speaks but thee In a grave solemnity. For man and wife make but one right Canonical hermaphrodite. Ravel thy body, and I find In every limb a double kind. 20 Who would not think that head a pair That breeds such factions in the hair? One half so churlish in the touch That, rather than endure so much I would my tender limbs apparel In Regulus's nailèd barrel: But the other half so small, And so amorous withal, That Cupid thinks each hair doth grow A string for his invis'ble bow. 30 When I look babies in thine eyes Here Venus, there Adonis, lies. And though thy beauty be high noon Thy orb contains both sun and moon. How many melting kisses skip 'Twixt thy male and female lip-- Twixt thy upper brush of hair And thy nether beard's despair? When thou speak'st (I would not wrong Thy sweetness with a double tongue) 40 But in every single sound A perfect dialogue is found. Thy breasts distinguish one another, This the sister, that the brother. When thou join'st hands my ear still fancies The nuptial sound, 'I, John, take Frances.' Feel but the difference soft and rough; This is a gauntlet, that a muff. Had sly Ulysses, at the sack Of Troy, brought thee his pedlar's pack, 50 And weapons too, to know Achilles From King Lycomedes' Phillis, His plot had failed; this hand would feel The needle, that the warlike steel. When music doth thy pace advance, Thy right leg takes the left to dance. Nor is 't a galliard danced by one, But a mixed dance, though alone. Thus every heteroclite part Changes gender but thy heart. 60 Nay those, which modesty can mean But dare not speak, are epicene. That gamester needs must overcome That can play both Tib and Tom. Thus did Nature's mintage vary, Coining thee a Philip and Mary.

[Upon an Hermaphrodite.] (1647.) This poem appeared in the 1640 and all subsequent editions of Randolph's poems and in the 1653 edition of Beaumont's. Beaumont had preceded Cleveland as a 'dumping-ground' for odds and ends of all kinds. But see the following poem.]

[Line: 1 1647 and 1651 'Madam_e_', which is not English, and which spoils the run of the verse.]

[Line: 2 twists] 1647, 1651, 1653, and others 'twist'd', which is very like the time.]

[Line: 10 both sexes] 1677 and later 'the sexes'.]

[Line: 13 I do not know whether it is worth while to point out that catalectic or seven-syllabled lines with trochaic effect (cf. 9. this, 16, and others), as well as complete trochaic dimeters (1, 2, &c.), occur more frequently here than in The Senses' Festival, Fuscara, &c. This, though of course Milton has it, was rather more frequent in Randolph's generation than in Cleveland's.]

[Line: 22 1647, 1651, 1677, and later 'faction', but 'factions' 1653.]

[Line: 25 1651, 1653 &c. 'It would', which can hardly be right. On the other hand 1677 and its follower have 'With Regulus his' (l. 26).]

[Line: 31 It can hardly be necessary to interpret this famous and charming phrase.]

[Line: 48 Line shortened to the trochaic run in 1677, &c. by dropping 'is'.]

[Line: 52 'Lycomedes' puzzled the earlier printers, who in 1647 and 1651 make it 'Nicomedes' (corrupted by 1653 to 'Nichomedes')--a curiously awkward blunder, as it happens.]

[Line: 56 the left 1647, 1653: thy left 1651.]

[Line: 58 The late edition of 1687, when 'regularity' was becoming a fetish, inserted 'all' before 'alone', though 1677--its standard for the genuine poems--has not got it, and it is not wanted.]

[Line: 59 heteroclite part] 1677 and its followers, puzzled by this, the original, reading, read 'apart' (apostrophating 'Het'roclite'), the sense of which is not clear; while Mr. Berdan would emend to 'heteroclitic', which is unnecessary. Cleveland may well have scanned 'heter[=o]clite', which is by no means an extravagant licence, and has been paralleled by Longfellow in 'Eur[=o]clydon'. Indeed, since I wrote this note Mr. Simpson has furnished me with a parallel of 'heter[=o]clite' itself from Harl. MS. 4126, f. 102.]

[Line: 60 but thy heart 1649: not the heart 1651, 1653.]

[Line: 62 'But' 1677: 'And' in earlier texts.]

The Author's Hermaphrodite.

(Made after Mr. Randolph's death, yet inserted into his Poems.)

Problem of sexes! Must thou likewise be As disputable in thy pedigree? Thou twins in one, in whom Dame Nature tries To throw less than aums ace upon two dice. Wert thou served up two in one dish, the rather To split thy sire into a double father? True, the world's scales are even; what the main In one place gets, another quits again. Nature lost one by thee, and therefore must Slice one in two to keep her number just. 10 Plurality of livings is thy state, And therefore mine must be impropriate. For, since the child is mine and yet the claim Is intercepted by another's name, Never did steeple carry double truer; His is the donative and mine the cure. Then say, my Muse (and without more dispute), Who 'tis that fame doth superinstitute. The Theban wittol, when he once descries Jove is his rival, falls to sacrifice. 20 That name hath tipped his horns; see, on his knees! A health to Hans-in-kelder Hercules! Nay, sublunary cuckolds are content To entertain their fate with compliment; And shall not he be proud whom Randolph deigns To quarter with his Muse both arms and brains? Gramercy Gossip, I rejoice to see She'th got a leap of such a barbary. Talk not of horns, horns are the poet's crest; For, since the Muses left their former nest 30 To found a nunnery in Randolph's quill, Cuckold Parnassus is a forked hill. But stay, I've waked his dust, his marble stirs And brings the worms for his compurgators. Can ghost have natural sons? Say, Og, is't meet Penance bear date after the winding sheet? Were it a Ph[oe]nix (as the double kind May seem to prove, being there's two combined) I would disclaim my right, and that it were The lawful issue of his ashes swear. 40 But was he dead? Did not his soul translate Herself into a shop of lesser rate; Or break up house, like an expensive lord That gives his purse a sob and lives at board? Let old Pythagoras but play the pimp And still there's hopes 't may prove his bastard imp. But I'm profane; for, grant the world had one With whom he might contract an union, They two were one, yet like an eagle spread, I' th' body joined, but parted in the head. 50 For you, my brat, that pose the Porph'ry Chair, Pope John, or Joan, or whatsoe'er you are, You are a nephew; grieve not at your state, For all the world is illegitimate. Man cannot get a man, unless the sun Club to the act of generation. The sun and man get man, thus Tom and I Are the joint fathers of my poetry. For since, blest shade, thy verse is male, but mine O' th' weaker sex, a fancy feminine, 60 We'll part the child, and yet commit no slaughter; So shall it be thy son, and yet my daughter.

[The Author's Hermaphrodite.] (1647.) The note, which appears in all editions, seems evidently conclusive as to this poem. Moreover the quibbles are right Clevelandish.]

[Line: 7 'main' is a little ambiguous, or may appear so from the recent mention of dice. But that sense will hardly come in, and Cleveland was probably thinking of the famous passage in Spenser (Artegall's dispute with the giant, F. Q. v. ii) as to the washing away and washing up of the sea. Yet 'main' might mean 'stock'. The reading of 'gets place' in one edition (1662), rather notable for blunders, cannot be listened to.]

[Line: 15 steeple] By synecdoche for 'church' or 'parish'.]

[Line: 16 donative] A play on words, as also in 'cure'.]

[Line: 19 Theban wittol] Amphitryon.]

[Line: 22 Hans-in-kelder] = 'unborn'.

[Line: 28 She'th] 1667 changes to 'Th'hast'. barbary] 'Barbs' or Spanish horses were imported for the stud as early as Anglo-Saxon times; but before Cleveland's day actual Arabs had been tried.]

[Line: 34 compurgators] persons who swear in a court of law to the innocence or the veracity of some other person.]

[Line: 35 I was unable to say why the King of Bashan comes in here, except that the comparison of the Dialogue on the &c., 'Og the great commissary', and the put case about 'penance', suggest some church lawyer of portly presence. But Mr. Simpson and Mr. Thorn-Drury have traced the thing from this point as follows:

Cf. A Dialogue upon the &c., l. 47 'Og the great commissary', where the copy in Rawlinson MS. Poet. 26, fol. 94 b, has a marginal note 'Roan'. This was Dr. William Roan, of whom an account is given in the Catalogue of Prints and Drawings in the British Museum, Division 1, 'Political and Personal Satires', p. 156: 'Dr. Roane was one of the most eminent doctors who acted in Laud's Ecclesiastical Courts; he fled from the indignation of the House of Commons, and is frequently alluded to in pamphlets and broadsides of the time (see Times Alteration, Jan. 8, 1641,... Old News newly Revived, Dec. 21, 1640,...and The Spirituall Courts Epitomised, June 26, 1641).' The pamphlet illustrated in this note is A Letter front Rhoan in France Written by Doctor Roane one of the Doctors of the late Sicke Commons, to his Fellow Doctor of the Civill Law. Dated 28, of Iune last past. With an Ellegy written by his oune hand upon the death and buriall of the said Doctors Commons. Printed in this happy yeare, 1641. (Thomason's copy dated June 28.)

Mr. Thorn-Drury supplies the following references bearing directly on the nickname, and not noticed in the B.M. Catalogue: Foure fugitives meeting Or, The Discourse amongst my Lord Finch, Sir Frances Windebank, Sir John Sucklin, and Doctor Roane, as they accidentally met in France, with a detection of their severall pranks in England. Printed In the Yeare, 1641. 4^{o}.

Suckling says to Roane, 'Hold there good Doctor Roane, and take me with you, you are to be blamed too, for not bidding farewell to Sir Paul Pinder, (at whose beauteous house, you have devoured the carkasse of many a cram'd Capon) before you fled, but I wonder more, why you came hither so unprovided; methinks some English dyet would have bin good for a weake stomack: the Church-Wardens of Northhamptonshire promised to give you a good fee, if you will goe to 'em, and resolve 'em whether they may lawfully take the oath &c. or no.

'Wind. That may very well be, for they have given him a great Addition, they stile him, Og the great Commissary, they say he was as briske in discharging the new Canons, as he that made them.'

Suckling addresses Roane as 'Immense Doctor Roane': so it is possible that it was his personal appearance which suggested the name of Og.

Cf. also Canidia. The Third Part, p. 150 (1683):

Are you a Smock-Sinner, or so, Commute soundly, and you shall be let go. Fee Ogg the great Commissary before and behind, Then sin on, you know my mind. ]

[Line: 39 1647, 1651, 1653, &c. 'It would', which can hardly be right.]

[Line: 44 'sob' 1647, 1651: 1653 clearly '_f_ob': 'Sob' 1677. Cf. Comedy of Errors (iv. iii. 22) 'gives a sob'. 'Sob' is literally 'an act on the part of a horse of recovering its wind after exertion'--hence 'respite' (N.E.D.).]

[Line: 51 Porph'ry Chair] The Pope's throne, the myths of which, as well as of Pope Joan herself, are vulgate. 'Nephew' carries out the allusion: Popes' sons being called so

Better to preserve the peace. ]

[Line: 59 thy] this 1651, 1653.]

[Line: 62 The merit of the style for burlesque use could hardly be better brought out.]

*To the Hectors, upon the unfortunate death of H. Compton.

You Hectors! tame professors of the sword, Who in the chair state duels, whose black word Bewitches courage, and like Devils too, Leaves the bewitch'd when 't comes to fight and do. Who on your errand our best spirits send, Not to kill swine or cows, but man and friend; Who are a whole court-martial in your drink, And dispute honour, when you cannot think, Not orderly, but prate out valour as You grow inspired by th' oracle of the glass; 10 Then, like our zeal-drunk presbyters, cry down All law of Kings and God, but what's their own. Then y' have the gift of fighting, can discern Spirits, who 's fit to act, and who to learn, Who shall be baffled next, who must be beat, Who killed--that you may drink, and swear, and eat. Whilst you applaud those murders which you teach And live upon the wounds your riots preach. Mere booty-souls! Who bid us fight a prize To feast the laughter of our enemies, 20 Who shout and clap at wounds, count it pure gain, Mere Providence to hear a Compton 's slain. A name they dearly hate, and justly; should They love 't 'twere worse, their love would taint the blood. Blood always true, true as their swords and cause, And never vainly lost, till your wild laws Scandalled their actions in this person, who Truly durst more than you dare think to do. A man made up of graces--every move Had entertainment in it, and drew love 30 From all but him who killed him, who seeks a grave And fears a death more shameful than he gave. Now you dread Hectors! you whom tyrant drink Drags thrice about the town, what do you think? (If you be sober) Is it valour, say, To overcome, and then to run away? Fie! Fie! your lusts and duels both are one; Both are repented of as soon as done.

[To the Hectors (1653) is struck out in 1677 and Mr. Berdan does not give it. I asterisk it in text; but as it might be Cleveland's (though I do not think it is) I do not exclude it. The Comptons were a good Royalist family in those days. This Henry (not the Bishop) was killed in 1652 in a duel by George Brydges, Lord Chandos, who died three years later (see Professor Firth's House of Lords during the Civil War, p. 223). The fame of the Hectors as predecessors of the Mohocks and possible objects of Milton's objurgation 'flown with insolence and wine', &c., is sufficient. But they seem to have been more methodical maniacs and ruffians than their successors, and even to have had something of the superior quality of Sir Lucius O'Trigger and Captain M^{c}Turk about them, as professors and painful preachers of the necessity and etiquette of the duel.]

[Line: 2 state duels] Arrange them like the said Captain M^{c}Turk in St. Ronan's Well? word] 1653 (wrongly for rhyme, though not necessarily for concord) 'words'.]

[Line: 19 booty-souls] Apparently 'souls interested in nothing but booty'. The piece would seem to have been addressed to Hectors in the actual Cavalier camp, or at least party. The 'enemies' are of course the Roundheads, and it will soon be noticed that there is no apodosis or consequence to all these 'who's', &c. It is literally an 'Address' and no more.]

[Line: 25 their] = 'the Comptons'--nothing to do with 'their' and 'they' in the preceding lines.]

[Line: 31 Does not run very smoothly: the second 'him' may be a foist.]

Square-Cap.

Come hither, Apollo's bouncing girl, And in a whole Hippocrene of sherry Let 's drink a round till our brains do whirl, Tuning our pipes to make ourselves merry. A Cambridge lass, Venus-like, born of the froth Of an old half-filled jug of barley-broth, She, she is my mistress, her suitors are many, But she'll have a Square-cap if e'er she have any.

And first, for the plush-sake, the Monmouth-cap comes, Shaking his head like an empty bottle; 10 With his new-fangled oath by Jupiter's thumbs, That to her health he'll begin a pottle. He tells her that, after the death of his grannam, He shall have God knows what per annum. But still she replied, 'Good Sir, la-bee; If ever I have a man, Square-cap for me!'

Then Calot Leather-cap strongly pleads, And fain would derive the pedigree of fashion. The antipodes wear their shoes on their heads, And why may not we in their imitation? 20 Oh, how this football noddle would please, If it were but well tossed on S. Thomas his leas! But still she replied, 'Good sir, la-bee; If ever I have a man, Square-cap for me!'

Next comes the Puritan in a wrought-cap, With a long-waisted conscience towards a sister. And, making a chapel of ease of her lap, First he said grace and then he kissed her. 'Beloved,' quoth he, 'thou art my text.' Then falls he to use and application next; 30 But then she replied, 'Your text, sir, I'll be; For then I'm sure you'll ne'er handle me.'

But see where Satin-cap scouts about, And fain would this wench in his fellowship marry. He told her how such a man was not put out Because his wedding he closely did carry. He'll purchase induction by simony, And offers her money her incumbent to be; But still she replied, 'Good sir, la-bee; If ever I have a man, Square-cap for me!' 40

The lawyer's a sophister by his round-cap, Nor in their fallacies are they divided, The one milks the pocket, the other the tap; And yet this wench he fain would have brided. 'Come, leave these thread-bare scholars,' quoth he, 'And give me livery and seisin of thee.' 'But peace, John-a-Nokes, and leave your oration, For I never will be your impropriation; I pray you therefore, good sir, la-bee; For if ever I have a man, Square-cap for me!' 50

[Square-Cap (1647) is one of the pleasantest of all Cleveland's poems. Its prosodic puzzle and profit have been indicated in the Introduction, and it might sometimes run more easily. But the thorough good-fellowship and esprit de corps carry it off more than sufficiently. It would be pleasant to think that Mr. Samuel Pepys sang it on the famous occasion when he was 'scandalously over-served with drink' as an undergraduate. It had been printed only three years when he went up, though no doubt written earlier.]

[Line: 2 Cleveland has got the fount right here.]

[Line: 7 she is] she's 1653.]

[Line: 9 Monmouth-cap] A soldier.]

[Lines: 13, 14 A most singular blunder in 1677 (and the editions that follow it) shows that Cleveland's 'Vindicators' were by no means always attentive to his sense. It reads 'her grannam' and 'She shall have'--the exact effect of which, as an inducement to marry him, one would like to hear.]

[Line: 15 la-bee] = 'let-a-be', 'let me alone'.]

[Line: 17 One or two editions (but not very good ones) 'Thin Calot'. Calot of course = 'calotte', the lawyer's cap or coif.]

[Line: 18 This is a signal instance of the way in which these early anapaestic lines break down into heroics. 1677 and others read 'his pedigree'--not so well.]

[Line: 22 S. Thomas his leas] A decree of Oct. 29, 1632, ordains that scholars and students of Corpus and Pembroke shall play football only 'upon St. Thomas Layes', the site of Downing College later. This decree and the 'S.' of 1651, 1653, would seem to show that 1677 is wrong in expanding to 'Sir', though two Cambridge editors ought to have known the right name. It was also called 'Swinecroft'. (Information obtained from the late Mr. J. W. Clark's Memories and Customs, Cambridge, 1909, through the kindness of Mr. A. J. Bartholomew.)]

[Line: 33 Satin-cap] Clerical: cf. Strode's poem on The Caps (Works, ed. Dobell, p. 106):]

The Sattin and the Velvet hive Unto a Bishopric doth drive.

[Line: 36 closely ... carry] = 'disguise', 'conceal'.]

Upon Phillis walking in a morning before sun-rising.

The sluggish morn as yet undressed, My Phillis brake from out her East, As if she'd made a match to run With Venus, usher to the sun. The trees, like yeomen of her guard, Serving more for pomp than ward, Ranked on each side, with loyal duty Weave branches to enclose her beauty. The plants, whose luxury was lopped, Or age with crutches underpropped, 10 Whose wooden carcasses are grown To be but coffins of their own, Revive, and at her general dole Each receives his ancient soul. The winged choristers began To chirp their mattins, and the fan Of whistling winds like organs played, Until their voluntaries made The wakened Earth in odours rise To be her morning sacrifice. 20 The flowers, called out of their beds, Start and raise up their drowsy heads; And he that for their colour seeks May find it vaulting in her cheeks, Where roses mix--no civil war Between her York and Lancaster. The marigold (whose courtier's face Echoes the sun and doth unlace Her at his rise--at his full stop Packs and shuts up her gaudy shop) 30 Mistakes her cue and doth display: Thus Phillis antedates the day. These miracles had cramped the sun, Who, thinking that his kingdom 's won, Powders with light his frizzled locks To see what saint his lustre mocks. The trembling leaves through which he played, Dappling the walk with light and shade Like lattice-windows, give the spy Room but to peep with half an eye; 40 Lest her full orb his sight should dim And bid us all good-night in him, Till she should spend a gentle ray To force us a new-fashioned day. But what religious palsy 's this Which makes the boughs divest their bliss, And, that they might her footsteps straw, Drop their leaves with shivering awe? Phillis perceived and (lest her stay Should wed October unto May, 50 And, as her beauty caused a Spring, Devotion might an Autumn bring) Withdrew her beams, yet made no night, But left the sun her curate-light.

[Upon Phillis, &c. (1647.) This is perhaps the prettiest, as The Senses' Festival is the most vigorous and Fuscara the most laboured, of Cleveland's Clevelandisms.]

[Line: 6 1677 &c. insert 'her' between 'serving' and 'more'--doubtless on the principle, noticed before, of patching lines to supposed 'regularity'.]

[Line: 7 'Ranked' 1647, 1677: 'Banked' 1651, 1653. As it happens either will do; and at the same time either, if original, is likely to have been mistaken for the other.]

[Line: 8 'Weave' 1647: 'Wave' 1651, 1653: 'Weav'd' 1677 (the printer unconsciously assimilating it to the 'Ranked' of l. 8). The same remark applies as to the preceding line.]

[Line: 11 are] were 1677, 1687.]

[Line: 18 1654 'Un_to_'.]

[Line: 19 1677 &c. 'weaken'd': putide.]

[Line: 20 A meeting-point of many pious poems.]

[Line: 24 1677 'vaulting to'--hardly an improvement.]

[Line: 26 Dryden may have had Cleveland in mind (as he pretty often, and most naturally had, seeing that the poems must have 'spent their youth with him') when he wrote some of the latest and most beautiful of his own lines to the Duchess of Ormond (Lady Mary Somerset):

O daughter of the Rose whose cheeks unite The differing titles of the Red and White. ]

[1677 'Divides her York and Lancaster'--pretty palpable emendation to supply the apparent lack of a verb.]

[Lines: 27-30 It has been suggested to me that the sense wants mechanical aid to clear it up; and I have therefore made a visible parenthesis of 'whose ... shop', following 1677.]

[Line: 34 thinking] fearing 1677.]

[Line: 36 1653 &c. 'saints'--a misprint, as 1647, 1651 have the singular.]

[Line: 38 Here, for once, Cleveland achieves the really poetical conceit.]

[Line: 42 1647, 1651, 1653, &c. 'bids'--again a mere misprint.]

[Line: 43 1647, 1651, 1653 'would'.]

[Line: 47 straw] For 'strew', as in the A. V.]

[Line: 49 1649, 1651, 1653, 'perceives' (an unconscious echo of 'leaves' in l. 48).]

Upon a Miser that made a great feast, and the next day died for grief.

Nor 'scapes he so; our dinner was so good My liquorish Muse cannot but chew the cud, And what delight she took in th' invitation Strives to taste o'er again in this relation. After a tedious grace in Hopkins' rhyme, Not for devotion but to take up time, Marched the trained-band of dishes, ushered there To show their postures and then as they were. For he invites no teeth; perchance the eye He will afford the lover's gluttony. 10 Thus is our feast a muster, not a fight, Our weapons not for service, but for sight. But are we tantalized? Is all this meat Cooked by a limner for to view, not eat? Th' astrologers keep such houses when they sup On joints of Taurus or their heavenly Tup. Whatever feasts be made are summed up here, His table vies not standing with his cheer. His churchings, christenings, in this meal are all, And not transcribed but in th' original. 20 Christmas is no feast movable; for lo, The self-same dinner was ten years ago! 'Twill be immortal if it longer stay, The gods will eat it for ambrosia. But stay a while; unless my whinyard fail Or is enchanted, I'll cut off th' entail. Saint George for England then! have at the mutton When the first cut calls me bloodthirsty glutton. Stout Ajax, with his anger-coddled brain, Killing a sheep thought Agamemnon slain; 30 The fiction's now proved true; wounding his roast I lamentably butcher up mine host. Such sympathy is with his meat, my weapon Makes him an eunuch when it carves his capon. Cut a goose leg and the poor soul for moan Turns cripple too, and after stands on one. Have you not heard the abominable sport A Lancaster grand-jury will report? The soldier with his Morglay watched the mill; The cats they came to feast, when lusty Will 40 Whips off great puss's leg which (by some charm) Proves the next day such an old woman's arm. 'Tis so with him whose carcass never 'scapes, But still we slash him in a thousand shapes. Our serving-men (like spaniels) range to spring The fowl which he had clucked under his wing. Should he on widgeon or on woodcock feed It were, Thyestes like, on his own breed. To pork he pleads a superstition due, But we subscribe neither to Scot nor Jew. 50 [No liquor stirs; call for a cup of wine. 'Tis blood we drink; we pledge thee, Catiline.] Sauces we should have none, had he his wish. The oranges i' th' margent of the dish He with such huckster's care tells o'er and o'er, The Hesperian dragon never watched them more. But being eaten now into despair (Having nought else to do) he falls to prayer. 'As thou didst once put on the form of bull And turned thine Io to a lovely mull, 60 Defend my rump, great Jove, grant this poor beef May live to comfort me in all this grief.' But no Amen was said: see, see it comes! Draw, boys, let trumpets sound, and strike up drums. See how his blood doth with the gravy swim, And every trencher hath a limb of him. The venison's now in view, our hounds spend deeper. Strange deer, which in the pasty hath a keeper Stricter than in the park, making his guest, (As he had stoln't alive) to steal it drest! 70 The scent was hot, and we, pursuing faster Than Ovid's pack of dogs e'er chased their master, A double prey at once may seize upon, Acteon, and his case of venison. Thus was he torn alive; to vex him worse Death serves him up now as a second course. Should we, like Thracians, our dead bodies eat, He would have lived only to save his meat. [Lastly; we did devour that corpse of his Throughout all Ovid's Metamorphoses.] 80

[Upon a Miser, &c. (1647.) This juxtaposition of the serious-sentimental-fanciful with the burlesque-satiric may not please some readers. But the older editions which give it seem to me better to represent the ideas of the time than the later siftings and reclassifications of the age of prose and sense. And this is one reason why I follow the order of 1653 rather than that of 1677.]

[Line: 2 'Cud' is spelt in 1647 here and elsewhere in Cleveland 'cood'.]

[Line: 3 In some copies 'i_mi_tation', of course wrongly.]

[Line: 4 taste] cast 1653.]

[Line: 5 Cleveland gibed at Sternhold and Hopkins in prose (The Character of a London Diurnall) as well as verse. 1647, 1651 misprint 'rhythm'.]

[Line: 11 The text, from 1677, is a clear improvement at first sight on the earlier 'This is a feast': though I would not be too sure that Cleveland did not write it thus.]

[Line: 16 1677 'the heavenly'.]

[Line: 17 1677 'he made'.]

[Line: 18 Meaning, apparently, that, as was the custom, the table between these sham feast-days was moved off its trestles and cleared away; but the feast was a 'standing' one, kept to reappear.]

[Line: 20 in th'] i' th' 1647, 1651.]

[Line: 26 is] it 1647, 1651.]

[Line: 28 1677 'Whe_re_'.]

[Line: 29 Stout] What 1651, 1653.]

[Line: 31 1677 'the roast'.]

[Line: 34 carves] One edition, of no value (1665), '_se_rves'.]

[Line: 35 soul] fool 1677.]

[Line: 38 Lancaster, because of the Lancashire witches. See Heywood, Lancashire Witches, Act V.]

[Line: 39 Morglay] The sword of Bevis.]

[Line: 43 'Tis] It's 1677.]

[Line: 44 'him' 1647: 'them' 1651, 1653.]

[Line: 46 These lines appear with some variants and are not clear in any text: 'which he had cluck'd under his wing' 1677, for the earlier 'when he hath clock't under her wing' 1647, 1651, 1653. Professor Case suggests 'cloakt' (i.e. 'hidden') for 'clock't'.]

[Line: 50 Mr. Berdan says, 'Englishmen supposed that the Scotch did not eat pork'. But, until quite recently, it was a fact; and even now there is much less eaten north than south of the Tweed. As for Cleveland's day, James the First's aversion to it was well known and had been celebrated by Ben Jonson. In 1647, 1651, 1653 'But not a mouth is muzzled by the Jew'.]

[Line: 51-2 Not in earlier editions. Added in 1677.]

[Line: 54 1677 'margin of his dish'.]

[Line: 55 1647, 1651, 1653, &c. omit 'care' and read 'tells them'.]

[Line: 59 1677 'Thou that didst'.]

[Line: 60 'turned thine' 1677, 1687: 'turn'st thy' 1647, 1651, 1653, &c. mull] Dialectic for 'cow', especially as a call-name. It seems to be connected with the sense of the word for 'lips', especially large loose ones.]

[Line: 61 1677

allay my grief, O spare me this, this monumental beef. ]

[Line: 66 'hath' 1677, 1687: 'has' 1651, 1653 and its group.]

[Line: 73 'may' 1651, 1653, &c.: 'we' 1677.]

[Lines: 79, 80 Added in 1677 &c., with very doubtful advantage.]

A Young Man to an Old Woman courting him.

Peace, Beldam Eve, surcease thy suit; There 's no temptation in such fruit; No rotten medlars, whilst there be Whole orchards in virginity. Thy stock is too much out of date For tender plants t' inoculate. A match with thee thy bridegroom fears Would be thought interest in his years, Which, when compared to thine, become Odd money to thy grandam sum. 10 Can wedlock know so great a curse As putting husbands out to nurse? How Pond and Rivers would mistake And cry new almanacs for our sake. Time sure hath wheeled about his year, December meeting Janiveer. The Egyptian serpent figures Time, And stripped, returns unto his prime. If my affection thou wouldst win, First cast thy hieroglyphic skin. 20 My modern lips know not, alack! The old religion of thy smack. I count that primitive embrace As out of fashion as thy face. And yet, so long 'tis since thy fall, Thy fornication 's classical. Our sports will differ; thou mayst play Lero, and I Alphonso way. I'm no translator, have no vein To turn a woman young again, 30 Unless you'll grant the tailor's due, To see the fore-bodies be new. I love to wear clothes that are flush, Not prefacing old rags with plush, Like aldermen, or under-shrieves With canvass backs and velvet sleeves: And just such discord there would be Betwixt thy skeleton and me. Go study salve and treacle, ply Your tenant's leg or his sore eye. 40 Thus matrons purchase credit, thank Six pennyworth of mountebank; Or chew thy cud on some delight That thou didst taste in 'eighty-eight; Or be but bed-rid once, and then Thou'lt dream thy youthful sins again. But if thou needs wilt be my spouse, First hearken and attend my vows. When Aetna's fires shall undergo The penance of the Alps in snow; 50 When Sol at one blast of his horn Posts from the Crab to Capricorn; When th' heavens shuffle all in one The Torrid with the Frozen Zone; When all these contradictions meet, Then, Sibyl, thou and I will greet. For all these similes do hold In my young heat and thy dull cold. Then, if a fever be so good A pimp as to inflame thy blood, 60 Hymen shall twist thee and thy page, The distinct tropics of man's age. Well, Madam Time, be ever bald. I'll not thy periwig be called. I'll never be 'stead of a lover, An aged chronicle's new cover.

[A Young Man, &c. (1647.)]

[Line: 8 1677, &c. have 'incest', which is rather tempting, but considering the 'odd money' which follows, not, I think, absolutely certain.]

[Line: 13 Edward Pond died in 1629; but the almanac, published by him first in 1601, lasted till 1709. Rivers was probably Peregrine Rivers, 'Student in Mathematics', writer of one of the numerous almanacs of the period. There are in the Bodleian copies of his almanacs for 1629, 1630, 1638, all printed at Cambridge. (Information supplied to me from Oxford.)]

[Line: 15 Some copies 'this'.]

[Line: 22 Rather a good line.]

[Line: 27 1651, 1653, &c. 'mayst': 1647, 1677, &c. 'must'.]

[Line: 35 1647 'Monster Shrieves', 1653 'Monster-Sheriffs', which can hardly be right.]

[Line: 44 'eighty-eight] The Armada year, often taken as a standard of remoteness not too remote. This, which is the later reading, of 1677 sqq., seems better than 'Thou takest in thy Eighty Eight' (1647, 1651, 1653, &c.).]

[Lines: 49-62 The italics of 1653, though discarded in 1677, seem worth keeping, because of the solemn call of attention to the particulars of the 'Vow'; they extend in the 1653 text to l. 60. But 1647 and 1651, prefix inverted commas to ll. 49-56, which seems a more effective ending to the 'Vow'.]

[Line: 53 Some inferior editions put in 'shall'. 1647, 1651, 1653, and 1677 exclude it.]

[Line: 61 twist] In the sense of 'twine', 'unite'. 'page' = 'boy'.]

[Line: 62 1647, 1651 'Tropicks': 1653 'Tropick'; but both Cancer and Capricorn are wanted.]

To Mrs. K. T.

(Who asked him why he was dumb.)

Stay, should I answer, Lady, then In vain would be your question: Should I be dumb, why then again Your asking me would be in vain. Silence nor speech, on neither hand, Can satisfy this strange demand. Yet, since your will throws me upon This wished contradiction, I'll tell you how I did become So strangely, as you hear me, dumb. 10 Ask but the chap-fallen Puritan; 'Tis zeal that tongue-ties that good man. (For heat of conscience all men hold Is th' only way to catch their cold.) How should Love's zealot then forbear To be your silenced minister? Nay, your Religion which doth grant A worship due to you, my Saint, Yet counts it that devotion wrong That does it in the Vulgar Tongue. 20 My ruder words would give offence To such an hallowed excellence, As th' English dialect would vary The goodness of an Ave Mary. How can I speak that twice am checked By this and that religious sect? Still dumb, and in your face I spy Still cause and still divinity. As soon as blest with your salute, My manners taught me to be mute. 30 For, lest they cancel all the bliss You signed with so divine a kiss, The lips you seal must needs consent Unto the tongue's imprisonment. My tongue in hold, my voice doth rise With a strange E-la to my eyes, Where it gets bail, and in that sense Begins a new-found eloquence. Oh listen with attentive sight To what my pratling eyes indite! 40 Or, lady, since 'tis in your choice To give or to suspend my voice, With the same key set ope the door Wherewith you locked it fast before. Kiss once again, and when you thus Have doubly been miraculous, My Muse shall write with handmaid's duty The Golden Legend of your beauty.

He whom his dumbness now confines But means to speak the rest by signs. 50

I. C.

[To Mrs. K. T., &c. (1647). To this title 1677 and its followers add 'Written calente calamo'. The variant on currente is of some interest, and the statement may have been made to excuse the bad opening rhyme.]

[Line: 5 neither] either 1677.]

[Line: 14 'their cold' 1651, 1653: 'that cold' 1647, 1677.]

[Line: 16 silenced] As some Puritans were before Cleveland wrote, and all, or almost all, Churchmen afterwards.]

[Line: 31 1677 'Lest I should cancel all the bliss'.]

[Line: 37 bail] 1653 &c. '_h_ail', which is doubtless a misprint.]

[Line: 40 'prating' 1677.]

[Line: 47 'handmaid' 1677.]

[Line: 50 1677 'Intends to speak'--an obvious correction of the 'red-hot pen'. But whether Cleveland's or his vindicators' who shall say?]

[Line: 51 So 1647, 1651, 1653. The couplet is meaningless without them.]

A Fair Nymph scorning a Black Boy courting her.

Nymph. Stand off, and let me take the air; Why should the smoke pursue the fair?

Boy. My face is smoke, thence may be guessed What flames within have scorched my breast.

Nymph. The flame of love I cannot view For the dark lantern of thy hue.

Boy. And yet this lantern keeps Love's taper Surer than yours, that's of white paper. Whatever midnight hath been here, The moonshine of your light can clear. 10

Nymph. My moon of an eclipse is 'fraid, If thou shouldst interpose thy shade.

Boy. Yet one thing, Sweetheart, I will ask; Take me for a new-fashioned mask.

Nymph. Yes, but my bargain shall be this, I'll throw my mask off when I kiss.

Boy. Our curled embraces shall delight To checker limbs with black and white.

Nymph. Thy ink, my paper, make me guess Our nuptial bed will prove a press, 20 And in our sports, if any came, They'll read a wanton epigram.

Boy. Why should my black thy love impair? Let the dark shop commend the ware; Or, if thy love from black forbears, I'll strive to wash it off with tears.

Nymph. Spare fruitless tears, since thou must needs Still wear about thee mourning weeds. Tears can no more affection win Than wash thy Ethiopian skin. 30

[A Fair Nymph, &c. (1647.)]

[Line: 2 An odd fancy included by Browne among the Vulgar Errors.]

[Line: 5 'Thy flaming love' 1677 &c.]

[Line: 10 'face will clear' 1677 &c.]

[Line: 14 1677 'Take me for a new-fashioned mask': 1647, 1651 'Buy me for a new false mask', varied in 1653 'Buy for me'--apparently a misprint, as the boy does not seem to wish to disguise himself.]

[Line: 15 Yes] Done 1677.]

[Line: 20 1647, 1651, 1653, 'make a press', ill repeated from above.]

[Line: 24 'the ware' 1677: 1647, 1651, 1653, not so well, 'thy ware'.]

[Line: 28 1677 changed 'thee' to 'thy'.]

[Line: 30 Some inferior copies 'the Ethiopian'.]

A Dialogue between two Zealots upon the &c. in the Oath.

Sir Roger, from a zealous piece of frieze Raised to a vicar of the children's threes; Whose yearly audit may by strict account To twenty nobles and his vails amount; Fed on the common of the female charity Until the Scots can bring about their parity; So shotten that his soul, like to himself, Walks but in cuerpo; this same clergy-elf, Encountering with a brother of the cloth, Fell presently to cudgels with the Oath. 10 The quarrel was a strange misshapen monster, &c., (God bless us) which they conster The brand upon the buttock of the Beast, The Dragon's tail tied on a knot, a nest Of young Apocryphas, the fashion Of a new mental Reservation. While Roger thus divides the text, the other Winks and expounds, saying, 'My pious brother, Hearken with reverence, for the point is nice. I never read on 't, but I fasted twice, 20 And so by revelation know it better Than all the learn'd idolaters o'th' letter.' With that he swelled, and fell upon the theme Like great Goliah with his weaver's beam. 'I say to thee, &c., thou li'st! Thou art the curléd lock of Antichrist; Rubbish of Babel; for who will not say Tongues were confounded in &c.? Who swears &c., swears more oaths at once Than Cerberus out of his triple sconce. 30 Who views it well, with the same eye beholds The old half Serpent in his numerous folds. Accurst &c. thou, for now I scent What lately the prodigious oysters meant! Oh Booker! Booker! How camest thou to lack This sign in thy prophetic almanac? It 's the dark vault wherein th' infernal plot Of powder 'gainst the State was first begot. Peruse the Oath and you shall soon descry it By all the Father Garnets that stand by it; 40 'Gainst whom the Church, (whereof I am a member,) Shall keep another Fifth Day of November. Yet here's not all; I cannot half untruss &c.--it's so abhominous! The Trojan nag was not so fully lined; Unrip &c., and you shall find Og the great commissary, and (which is worse) The apparitor upon his skew-bald horse. Then finally, my babe of grace, forbear, &c. will be too far to swear, 50 For 'tis (to speak in a familiar style) A Yorkshire wee bit longer than a mile.' Here Roger was inspired, and by God's diggers He'll swear in words at large but not in figures. Now by this drink, which he takes off, as loath To leave &c. in his liquid oath. His brother pledged him, and that bloody wine He swears shall seal the Synod's Catiline. So they drunk on, not offering to part 'Till they had quite sworn out th' eleventh quart, 60 While all that saw and heard them jointly pray They and their tribe were all &c.

[A Dialogue, &c. (1647.) This occurs also in the Rump (1662, reprinted London, N. D.). A MS. copy is found in Rawlinson MS. Poet. 26 of the Bodleian, at fol. 94, with the title 'A Dialogue between 2. Zelots concerning &c. in the new Oath.' 'The Oath' is the famous one formulated in 1640 by Convocation. Fuller, who was proctor for the diocese of Bristol (and who would have been fined heavily for his part, 'moderate' as he was, if the Puritan Ultras of the Commons could have had their way), has left much about it. This oath, to be taken by all the clergy, imported approval of the doctrine, discipline, and government of the Church, and disclaimed, twice over, 'Popish' doctrine and the usurpations of the see of Rome. Unluckily the government of the Church was defined as 'by archbishops, bishops, deans, and archdeacons, &c.', which last was, in the absence of any other handle, seized by the Puritan party as possibly implying all sorts of horrors. Cleveland banters them well enough, but hardly with the force and directness which he was to show later. The Royalists were then under the fatal error of underrating the strength of their opponents, and the gullibility of the people of England.]

[Line: 2 'vicar', 1647, 1651, 1653, MS.: 'vicarage' 1677. 'children' 1651, 1653: I have been waiting a long time to know what 'children's threes' means. It occurs elsewhere, but to my thinking as an obvious reminiscence of Cleveland.]

[Line: 7 shotten] 'like a herring that has spawned', 'thin'.]

[Line: 8 in cuerpo] 'in body-clothes', 'cloakless'. 1647, 1651, 1653 'Querpo': MS. 'Quirpo', with 'cuerpo' written above it.]

[Line: 12 1677 extends '&c.' to 'et caetera'. This is a mistake, as the actual ampersand occurred in the oath and gave some slight assistance to the cavillers. Cleveland's expressions--'tail tied on a knot' (l. 14), 'curled lock' (l. 26), 'numerous folds' (l. 32)--lose their point without the ampersand. 1677 also has 'may conster', which though possible enough, seems to me neither necessary nor even much of an improvement.]

[Line: 17 1677, less euphoniously, 'Whil_st_'.]

[Line: 22 A reading of the Rump version, 'Than all the Idolaters of the letter', though almost certainly a mere mistaken correction, has some interest.]

[Line: 23 fell] sett MS.]

[Line: 24 Goliah] This form occurs in all the texts.]

[Line: 25 In this and other lines that follow much of the quaintness is lost by 'extending' the '&c.' of the older editions.]

[Line: 28 were] are 1677, MS.]

[Line: 32 All editions, I think, before 1677 (which substitutes 'false') have 'half'. 'False' is very feeble; 'half' refers picturesquely to the delineation of the Serpent tempting Eve with a human head, being coiled below like the curves of the &c. 'False' MS.]

[Line: 33 1677, MS. 'Accurst Et Caetera! now, now I scent'.]

[Line: 34 I do not know whether these very Livyish oysters have been traced. 1677 and MS. omit 'lately' and read 'prodigious bloody oysters'.]

[Line: 35 John Booker (1603-1677), Manchester man, haberdasher, writing-master, and astrologer, gained a great deal of credit by interpreting an eclipse after the usual fashion as portending disaster to kings and princes, the great Gustavus Adolphus and the unfortunate Frederick, 'Winter'-King of Bohemia, being complaisant enough to die in accordance.]

[Line: 36 This sign] 1677, MS. 'This fiend'--more energetically.]

[Line: 37 ''Tis the dark vault where the' MS.]

[Line: 40 The sting of 'the Father Garnets that stand by it' lies in the words immediately preceding the obnoxious '&c.'--'archbishops, bishops, &c.'--whom the Puritan divine stigmatizes as Jesuits and traitors to Church and State. As has been stated, the oath distinctly, in set terms and twice over, abjured Rome and all things Roman; but the Puritans of those days, like their descendants, paid no attention to trifles of this kind. For 'stand' MS. reads 'stood'.]

[Line: 43 Yet] Nay MS.]

[Line: 44 1647, 1651 'abominous'; 1653 'abhominous'. The 'h' must be kept in 'ab_h_ominous', though not unusual for 'ab_om_-', because it helps to explain, and perhaps to justify, 1677 and MS. in reading 'ab_d_ominous'. This, though something suggestive of a famous Oxford story, derives some colour from 'untruss' and may be right, especially as I do not know another example of 'abominous' for 'abominable'.]

[Line: 47 Og] v. sup., p. 31. MS. has marginal note 'Roan'.]

[Line: 48 'Skew-bald' is not = 'piebald', though most horses commonly called piebald are skewbalds. 'Pie[magpie]bald' is black and white; skewbald brown (or some other colour not black) and white. The Church-courts were much more unpopular, in these as in mediaeval times, than the Church, and High Commissioners and commissaries and apparitors were alleged to lurk under the guileful and dreadful '&c.']

[Line: 49 'babes' 1677.]

[Line: 52 Blount's Glossographia (1656), a useful book, shows the ignorance of Northern English then prevailing by supposing 'we_a_-bit' (the form found in Cleveland originally) to be 'way-bit'. It is, of course, 'little bit', the Scotch 'mile and a bittock'.]

[Line: 53 Here] Then 1647, 1651, 1653. God's diggers] = nails or fingers. Commoner in the corruption 'Ods niggers'.]

[Line: 54 'in words at large' 1647 ('at length', one issue of 1647): 'at words in large' 1651, 1653: 'in words at length, and not in figures' MS.]

[Line: 58 Edd. 'Cat_a_line', as usual, but 1677 'Catiline'. 'He swears he'll be the Synod's' MS.]

[Line: 59 'Thus they drink on, not offering to depart' MS.]

[Line: 60 1677 omits 'quite'--no doubt for the old syllabic reason. MS. substitutes 'fully'.]

[Line: 62 Perhaps nowhere is the comic surprise of the symbol more wanted than here, and more of a loss when that symbol is extended.]

Smectymnuus, or the Club-Divines.

Smectymnuus! The goblin makes me start! I' th' name of Rabbi Abraham, what art? Syriac? or Arabic? or Welsh? what skill't? Ap all the bricklayers that Babel built, Some conjurer translate and let me know it; Till then 'tis fit for a West Saxon poet. But do the brotherhood then play their prizes Like mummers in religion with disguises, Out-brave us with a name in rank and file? A name, which, if 'twere trained, would spread a mile! 10 The saints' monopoly, the zealous cluster Which like a porcupine presents a muster And shoots his quills at bishops and their sees, A devout litter of young Maccabees! Thus Jack-of-all-trades hath devoutly shown The Twelve Apostles on a cherry-stone; Thus faction 's à la mode in treason's fashion, Now we have heresy by complication. Like to Don Quixote's rosary of slaves Strung on a chain; a murnival of knaves 20 Packed in a trick, like gipsies when they ride, Or like colleagues which sit all of a side. So the vain satyrists stand all a row As hollow teeth upon a lute-string show. Th' Italian monster pregnant with his brother, Nature's diæresis, half one another, He, with his little sides-man Lazarus, Must both give way unto Smectymnuus. Next Sturbridge Fair is Smec's; for, lo! his side Into a five-fold lazar's multiplied. 30 Under each arm there 's tucked a double gizzard; Five faces lurk under one single vizard. The Whore of Babylon left these brats behind, Heirs of confusion by gavelkind. I think Pythagoras' soul is rambled hither With all the change of raiment on together. Smec is her general wardrobe; she'll not dare To think of him as of a thoroughfare. He stops the gossiping dame; alone he is The purlieu of a metempsychosis; 40 Like a Scotch mark, where the more modest sense Checks the loud phrase, and shrinks to thirteen pence: Like to an ignis fatuus whose flame, Though sometimes tripartite, joins in the same; Like to nine tailors, who, if rightly spelled, Into one man are monosyllabled. Short-handed zeal in one hath cramped many Like to the Decalogue in a single penny. See, see how close the curs hunt under sheet As if they spent in quire and scanned their feet. 50 One cure and five incumbents leap a truss; The title sure must be litigious. The Sadducees would raise a question Who must be Smec at th' Resurrection. Who cooped them up together were to blame. Had they but wire-drawn and spun out their name, 'Twould make another Prentices' Petition Against the bishops and their superstition. Robson and French (that count from five to five, As far as nature fingers did contrive-- 60 She saw they would be 'sessors, that 's the cause She cleft their hoof into so many claws) May tire their carrot-bunch, yet ne'er agree To rate Smectymnuus for poll-money. Caligula--whose pride was mankind's bail, As who disdained to murder by retail, Wishing the world had but one general neck,-- His glutton blade might have found game in Smec. No echo can improve the author more Whose lungs pay use on use to half a score. 70 No felon is more lettered, though the brand Both superscribes his shoulder and his hand. Some Welshman was his godfather, for he Wears in his name his genealogy. The banns are asked, would but the times give way, Betwixt Smectymnuus and Et Caetera. The guests, invited by a friendly summons, Should be the Convocation and the Commons. The priest to tie the foxes' tails together Mosely, or Sancta Clara, choose you whether. 80 See what an offspring every one expects, What strange pluralities of men and sects! One says he'll get a vestry, but another Is for a synod; Bet upon the mother. Faith, cry St. George! Let them go to 't and stickle Whether a conclave or a conventicle. Thus might religions caterwaul, and spite Which uses to divorce, might once unite. But their cross fortunes interdict their trade; The groom is rampant but the bride displayed. 90 My task is done, all my he goats are milked. So many cards i' th' stock, and yet be bilked? I could by letters now untwist the rabble, Whip Smec from constable to constable; But there I leave you to another dressing; Only kneel down and take your father's blessing. May the Queen Mother justify your fears And stretch her patent to your leather ears!

[Smectymnuus, &c. (1647.) Whether this lively skit on the five 'reverend men whose friend' Milton was (as far as he could be proud of being anything but himself) proud of being was in Milton's own mind when he wrote his Apology for the acrostically named treatise, one cannot say. It is a lively 'mime' enough, and he seems to throw back that word with some special meaning. Cleveland's poem may have appeared in the summer of 1641. Naturally, it is in the Rump poems.]

[Line: 3 All editions 'skilt'. It apparently must be as in text: 'skill't' for 'skill'st' = 'dost thou [or 'does it'] signify?']

[Line: 4 1677, &c. 'Ape', but 'Ap' in the Welsh sense (Welsh having just been mentioned) does well enough. It would go, not too roughly for Cleveland's syntax, with 'conjurer'. Let some wizard, descended from all these, and therefore knowing all tongues, translate.]

[Line: 6 This is rather interesting. Does it refer to Wessex or Devonshire dialect of the day, or to old West Saxon? Junius did not edit Cædmon till fourteen years later, but there was study of Anglo-Saxon from Parker's time at Cambridge.]

[Line: 7 the brotherhood] 'Brother' and 'sister' being constant sneers at the Puritan.

play their prizes] = 'fight'.]

[Line: 10 Perhaps another sneer at the 'train-bands' of the City.]

[Line: 15 'distinctly' 1677.]

[Line: 16 'in a' 1677.]

[Line: 18 I suppose à la mode, which is in 1677, is right; but the 'all-a-mode' of 1647, 1651, 1653 is tempting.]

[Line: 20 'murnival' or 'mournival'. Four aces, kings, &c., especially at gleek.]

[Line: 22 1677, &c. 'Or like the College'.]

[Line: 24 'h_a_llow' 1653.]

[Line: 25 I knew not this monster, and suspected that he would not be a delicate monster to know. But Mr. Thorn-Drury has found him in the Gentleman's Magazine, 1777, p. 482. Lazarus Collondo, a Genoese, had a small brother growing out of his side, with one leg, two arms, &c., &c.]

[Line: 29 'Smec' will now be an even greater attraction at the Sturbridge fair at Cambridge. All fairs rejoiced in monsters.]

[Line: 36 'The change', as in 1647, 1651, 1653 and its group, including the Rump version, is not so good as 'her', which 1677 reads.]

[Line: 38 i.e. 'to go on to any other body'.]

[Line: 40 'Purlieu' seems to be used in the sense of 'precinct' or 'province'.]

[Lines: 41-2 These lines are in all the seventeenth-century editions I have seen, but not in Mr. Berdan's. The Scots pound was of course only twenty English pence, and so the mark (two thirds) 'shrank' accordingly.]

[Line: 49 1647, 1651, 1677 insert 'a' before 'sheet'. The metaphor is probably as old as hunting. 'Spend', as Professor Case reminds me, has had already in The Miser, l. 67, the sense of 'give tongue'. 'Scanned their feet' for 'kept pace' is good enough; but why the five should leap a truss, and why this should be litigious, I again frankly confess myself to have been ignorant. Mr. Simpson, however, quotes R. Fletcher in Ex Otio Negotium, 1656, p. 202, 'The model of the new Religion':

How many Queere-religions? clear your throat, May a man have a penyworth? four a groat? Or do the Iuncto leap at truss a fayle? Three tenents clap while five hang on the tayle?

Cleveland seems to have tried in this piece to equal the mystery of the title of 'Smec' by his own matter, and to have succeeded very fairly.]

[Line: 54 1677, &c. 'shall be'. 'at th'' 1647, 1677: 'at the' 1651, 1653.]

[Line: 55 cooped] cooked 1647, 1651.]

[Line: 56 1677, &c. 'the name'.]

[Line: 57 An absurd, but doubtless in the circumstances dangerous, document of the kind was actually disseminated, in which the prentices bold engaged 'to defend his Sacred Majesty against Popish innovations such as archbishops and bishops appear to be'.]

[Line: 63 carrot-bunch] Cant for 'fingers'.]

[Line: 70 'pay' 1653, 1677: 'pays' 1647, 1651. 1677 'and use'.]

[Line: 75 'Banns' 1677: 'Banes' in earlier texts. 1653 'time'.]

[Line: 78 The Convocation which had been guilty of '&c.', and the Commons who mostly sympathized with 'Smec'.]

[Line: 79 foxes' tails] As at Samson's marriage (Judges xv. 4-7.)]

[Line: 80 Mosel[e]y, Milton's printer; and Sancta Clara, the Jesuit?]

[Line: 82 1677 'plurality'.]

[Line: 83 'Vestry, but' 1677: 'Vestery' 1647, 1651, 1653.]

[Line: 84 1677 'Bets'.]

[Line: 90 The heraldic terms are pretty plain, but 1677 reads 'is spade' i.e. 'spayed', as in The Hecatomb to his Mistress, l. 2.]

[Line: 94 Rhyme here really badly managed.]

[Line: 95 1677 'another's'.]

[Line: 97 The fear and dislike of Henrietta Maria (whom Mr. Berdan supposes to be meant) among the disaffected is only too certain: and the fate of Prynne's ears for his scandal of her is notorious. But why at this time she should be called a Queen Mother (it was her proper title afterwards, and she was one of the very few to whom it was actually given), and what the last line means, I know not. Nor does Professor Firth, unless Marie de Médicis (who was Queen Mother in France and had visited England) had, as he suggests, a share in some leather patent, and is meant here. Smec's ears are 'vellum' in Rupertismus, 169 (v. inf., p. 67).]

The Mixed Assembly.

Flea-Bitten synod, an assembly brewed Of clerks and elders ana, like the rude Chaos of Presbyt'ry, where laymen guide With the tame woolpack clergy by their side. Who asked the banns 'twixt these discoloured mates? A strange grotesco this; the Church and states, Most divine tick-tack, in a piebald crew, To serve as table-men of divers hue! She, that conceived an Ethiopian heir By picture, when the parents both were fair, 10 At sight of you had born a dappled son, You checkering her imagination. Had Jacob's flock but seen you sit, the dams Had brought forth speckled and ring-streakéd lambs. Like an impropriator's motley kind Whose scarlet coat is with a cassock lined; Like the lay-thief in a canonic weed, Sure of his clergy ere he did the deed; Like Royston crows, who are (as I may say) Friars of both the Orders, Black and Gray; 20 So mixed they are, one knows not whether 's thicker, A layer of burgess, or a layer of vicar. Have they usurped what Royal Judah had, And now must Levi too part stakes with Gad? The sceptre and the crosier are the crutches, Which, if not trusted in their pious clutches, Will fail the cripple State. And were 't not pity But both should serve the yardwand of the City? That Isaac might stroke his beard and sit Judge of [Greek: eis Haidou] and elegerit? 30 Oh that they were in chalk and charcoal drawn! The miscellany-satyr and the faun And all th' adulteries of twisted nature But faintly represent this riddling feature; Whose members being not tallies, they'll not own Their fellows at the Resurrection. Strange scarlet doctors these! They'll pass in story For sinners half refined in Purgatory, Or parboiled lobsters, where there jointly rules The fading sables and the coming gules. 40 The flea that Falstaff damned thus lewdly shows Tormented in the flames of Bardolph's nose. Like him that wore the dialogue of cloaks This shoulder John-a-Stiles, that John-a-Nokes; Like Jews and Christians in a ship together With an old neck-verse to distinguish either; Like their intended discipline to boot, Or whatsoe'er hath neither head nor foot; Such may their stript-stuff-hangings seem to be, Sacrilege matched with codpiece simony. 50 Be sick and dream a little, you may then Fancy these linsey-woolsey vestry-men. Forbear, good Pembroke, be not over-daring. Such company may chance to spoil thy swearing, And thy drum-major oaths, of bulk unruly, May dwindle to a feeble 'By my truly'! He that the noble Percy's blood inherits, Will he strike up a Hotspur of the spirits? He'll fright the Obadiahs out of tune With his uncircumciséd Algernoon; 60 A name so stubborn, 'tis not to be scanned By him in Gath with the six-fingered hand. See, they obey the magic of my words! Presto! they're gone, and now the House of Lords Looks like the withered face of an old hag, But with three teeth like to a triple gag. A jig! a jig! and in this antic dance Fielding and Doxie Marshall first advance. Twisse blows the Scotch-pipes, and the loving brace Puts on the traces and treads cinque-a-pace. 70 Then Saye and Sele must his old hamstrings supple, And he and rumpled Palmer make a couple. Palmer 's a fruitful girl if he'll unfold her; The midwife may find work about her shoulder. Kimbolton, that rebellious Boanerges, Must be content to saddle Dr. Burges. If Burges get a clap, 'tis ne'er the worse, But the fifth time of his compurgators. Noll Bowles is coy; good sadness, cannot dance But in obedience to the ordinance. 80 Here Wharton wheels about till mumping Lidy, Like the full moon, hath made his lordship giddy. Pym and the members must their giblets levy T' encounter Madam Smec, that single bevy. If they two truck together, 'twill not be A child-birth, but a gaol-delivery. Thus every Ghibelline hath got his Guelph But Selden,--he 's a galliard by himself; And well may be; there 's more divines in him Than in all this, their Jewish Sanhedrim: 90 Whose canons in the forge shall then bear date When mules their cousin-germans generate. Thus Moses' law is violated now; The ox and ass go yoked in the same plough. Resign thy coach-box, Twisse; Brooke's preacher he Would sort the beasts with more conformity. Water and earth make but one globe; a Roundhead Is clergy-lay, party-per-pale compounded.

[The Mixed Assembly (1647.) This was the famous 'Westminster' Assembly which met in July, 1643--a hodge-podge of half a score peers, a score of commoners, and about four times as many divines as laymen. Tanner MS. 465, of the Bodleian, has a poor copy of this poem; but some transpositions and omissions suggest that it preserves an earlier draft. Lines 63-6 follow 52; 71-8, 81-2, are omitted.]

[Line: 1 Flea-bitten] As of a horse--the laymen appearing like specks on the body of clergy.]

[Line: 2 ana] Usually interpreted in the apothecary's sense, 'in equal quantities', written so in prescriptions and said to be from the Greek--[Greek: ana] being thus used.]

[Lines: 6, 7 'Church and State's, Most divine' MS.]

[Line: 19 In a fable a Royston crow (the town being on the way to Cambridge had probably a bad reputation for fleecing the guileless undergraduate) advised an innocent of his kind to drop a shellfish from a height on rocks where the Royston bird was waiting and secured the meat.]

[Line: 28 1677 changes 'But' to 'That'.]

[Line: 29 1677 inserts 'go' before 'stroke'. But Cleveland probably scanned 'I-sa-ac'. The reference is to Isaac Pennington: cf. The Rebel Scot, l. 79.]

[Line: 30 The phrase is of course Homeric (sc. [Greek: domous]) and with its companion combines the idea of an ecclesiastical condemnation ('delivering over to Satan') and a civil execution, a writ of elegit.]

[Line: 32 faun] All old editions, I think, and Mr. Berdan, 'fa_w_n'. But the animal (always now indicated by that spelling) is not of a 'twisted nature', the half-god is.]

[Line: 40 One of those that taught Dryden something.]

[Line: 41 Cleveland, like most Royalists and their master, was evidently sound on Shakespeare. A copy of 1677 in my possession has a manuscript list of references on the fly-leaf.]

[Line: 46 'neck-verse'] = for benefit of clergy.]

[Line: 49 'Stript', 1647, 1651, 1653, is evidently 'striped', and is printed 'strip'd' in 1677.]

[Line: 53 Philip Herbert, fourth Earl of Pembroke, though a patron of literature and the arts, was a man of bad character and a virulent Roundhead.]

[Line: 55 'thy' 1677: 'these' 1647, 1651, 1653.

of bulk unruly] if Vulcan rule you MS.]

[Line: 59 1647, 1651 'Obadiahs': 1653 and its group 'Obadiah': 1677 'Obadiah's'.]

[Line: 60 Algernon Percy, tenth Earl of Northumberland--who repented too late of his rebellion and tried to prevent the consequences--seems to have joined the Roundheads out of pique (his pride was notorious) at neglect of his suggestions and interference with his powers as Lord High Admiral. By putting the fleet into the hands of the Parliament he did the King perhaps more hurt than any other single person at the beginning of the war. 'Algernoon' 1647, 1651: later texts spoil the point of the next line by using the conventional form.]

[Line: 68 Fielding] Basil, the degenerate son of the first Earl of Denbigh. He actually served in the Parliamentary Army, but like Northumberland, who did not go that length, repented too late.

Doxie Marshall] The Stephen Marshall of Smectymnuus and the 'Geneva Bull' of The Rebel Scot, l. 21; exactly why 'Doxie' I do not know. Possibly 'prostitute' from his eager Presbyterianism. It is odd that Anne and Rebecca Marshall, two famous actresses of the Restoration to whom the term might be applied with some direct justification, used to be counted his daughters, though this is now denied.]

[Line: 69 Twisse] William (1578-1646), the Prolocutor of the Assembly.]

[Line: 71 Saye and Sele] William Fiennes, first Viscount (1582-1662). Of very bad reputation as a slippery customer.]

[Line: 72 rumpled] Mr. Berdan 'rumbled', on what authority and with what meaning I do not know. 'Rumpled', which is in 1647, 1651, 1653, and 1677, no doubt refers to the untidy bands, &c. of a slovenly priest. Herbert Palmer (1604-1647) was a man of good family but a bitter Puritan. He was first Fellow and then President of Queens' College, Cambridge, where Cleveland doubtless knew him. The odd description reads like that of a sort of deformed dwarf.]

[Line: 75 Kimbolton] Edward, Lord (1602-1671), just about to become the well-known Earl of Manchester of the Rebellion. Like Northumberland and Denbigh, he repented, but only after he had been not too politely shelved for Fairfax and Cromwell.]

[Line: 76 Cleveland would have been delighted had he known the fate of Cornelius Burges (1589?-1665), of whom he evidently had a pretty bad idea. Burges, a Wadham and Lincoln man, was one of the leaders of the Puritans among the London clergy, and a great favourite with the House of Commons in the Long Parliament. He wanted to suppress cathedrals; and, being a practical man and preacher at Wells during the Commonwealth, did his best by buying the deanery and part of the estates. Wherefore he was promptly and properly ruined by the Restoration, and died in well-deserved poverty. He was vice-president of the Westminster Assembly.]

[Line: 79 Oliver Bowles, a Puritan divine. 1653 omits the comma after 'sadness' found in 1651,--a neat punctuation, meaning 'in good sadness, he cannot dance'. Phrases like 'in good truth', 'in good sadnesse' were the utmost licence of speech which the Puritans permitted themselves.]

[Line: 81 Philip, fourth Lord Wharton (1613-1696) took the anti-Royalist side very early, but cut a very poor figure at Edgehill and abandoned active service. He did not figure under the Commonwealth, but was a zealous Whig after the Restoration, and a prominent Williamite in the last years of his long life. Who 'Lidy' (1653) or 'Lidie' (1677) was seems unknown. Professor Firth suggests a misprint for 'Sidie,' i.e. Sidrach Simpson (1600?-1655), a busy London Puritan and member of the Assembly. Another ingenious suggestion made to me is that 'mumping Lid[d]y' may be one of the queer dance-names of the period, or actually a woman, Wharton being no enemy to the sex. But I do not know that there was such a dance, and as all the other pairs are males, being members of the Assembly, it would be odd if there were an exception here. For 'Here' 1647, 1651 read 'Her'.]

[Line: 88 The exceptional position of Selden is well hit off here. His character and his earning were just able to neutralize, though not to overcome, the curse of Laodicea.]

[Line: 95 'Brooke' is Robert Brooke, second Lord Brooke, cousin and successor of Fulke Greville--the 'fanatic Brooke' who had his 'guerdon meet' by being shot in his attack on Lichfield Cathedral. Mercurius Anti-Britannicus, 1645, p. 23, has:

Like my Lord Brooke's Coachman Preaching out of a tub.

(I owe this citation to Mr. Simpson.)]

The King's Disguise.

And why a tenant to this vile disguise Which who but sees, blasphemes thee with his eyes? My twins of light within their penthouse shrink, And hold it their allegiance now to wink. O, for a state-distinction to arraign Charles of high treason 'gainst my Sovereign! What an usurper to his prince is wont, Cloister and shave him, he himself hath don' 't. His muffled feature speaks him a recluse-- His ruins prove him a religious house! 10 The sun hath mewed his beams from off his lamp And majesty defaced the royal stamp. Is 't not enough thy dignity 's in thrall, But thou'lt transmute it in thy shape and all, As if thy blacks were of too faint a dye Without the tincture of tautology? Flay an Egyptian for his cassock skin, Spun of his country's darkness, line 't within With Presbyterian budge, that drowsy trance, The Synod's sable, foggy Ignorance; 20 Nor bodily nor ghostly negro could Roughcast thy figure in a sadder mould. This privy-chamber of thy shape would be But the close mourner of thy Royalty. Then, break the circle of thy tailor's spell, A pearl within a rugged oyster's shell. Heaven, which the minster of thy person owns, Will fine thee for dilapidations. Like to a martyred abbey's coarser doom, Devoutly altered to a pigeon-room; 30 Or like a college by the changeling rabble, Manchester's elves, transformed into a stable; Or if there be a profanation higher; Such is the sacrilege of thine attire, By which thou'rt half deposed.--Thou look'st like one Whose looks are under sequestration; Whose renegado form at the first glance Shows like the Self-denying Ordinance; Angel of light, and darkness too, (I doubt) Inspired within and yet possessed without; 40 Majestic twilight in the state of grace, Yet with an excommunicated face. Charles and his mask are of a different mint; A psalm of mercy in a miscreant print. The sun wears midnight, day is beetle-browed, And lightning is in kelder of a cloud. O the accursed stenography of fate! The princely eagle shrunk into a bat! What charm, what magic vapour can it be That checks his rays to this apostasy? 50 It is no subtile film of tiffany air, No cobweb vizard such as ladies wear, When they are veiled on purpose to be seen, Doubling their lustre by their vanquished screen. No, the false scabbard of a prince is tough And three-piled darkness, like the smoky slough Of an imprisoned flame; 'tis Faux in grain; Dark lantern to our bright meridian. Hell belched the damp; the Warwick Castle vote Rang Britain's curfew, so our light went out. 60 [A black offender, should he wear his sin For penance, could not have a darker skin.] His visage is not legible; the letters Like a lord's name writ in fantastic fetters; Clothes where a Switzer might be buried quick; Sure they would fit the body politic; False beard enough to fit a stage's plot (For that 's the ambush of their wit, God wot), Nay, all his properties so strange appear, Y' are not i' th' presence though the King be there. 70 A libel is his dress, a garb uncouth, Such as the Hue and Cry once purged at mouth. Scribbling assassinate! Thy lines attest An earmark due, Cub of the Blatant Beast; Whose breath, before 'tis syllabled for worse, Is blasphemy unfledged, a callow curse. The Laplanders, when they would sell a wind Wafting to hell, bag up thy phrase and bind It to the bark, which at the voyage end Shifts poop and breeds the colic in the Fiend. 80 But I'll not dub thee with a glorious scar Nor sink thy sculler with a man-of-war. The black-mouthed Si quis and this slandering suit Both do alike in picture execute. But since w' are all called Papists, why not date Devotion to the rags thus consecrate? As temples use to have their porches wrought With sphinxes, creatures of an antic draught, And puzzling portraitures to show that there Riddles inhabited; the like is here. 90 But pardon, Sir, since I presume to be Clerk of this closet to your Majesty. Methinks in this your dark mysterious dress I see the Gospel couched in parables. At my next view my purblind fancy ripes And shows Religion in its dusky types; Such a text royal, so obscure a shade Was Solomon in Proverbs all arrayed. Come, all the brats of this expounding age To whom the spirit is in pupilage, 100 You that damn more than ever Samson slew, And with his engine, the same jaw-bone too! How is 't he 'scapes your inquisition free Since bound up in the Bible's livery? Hence, Cabinet-intruders! Pick-locks, hence! You, that dim jewels with your Bristol sense: And characters, like witches, so torment Till they confess a guilt though innocent! Keys for this coffer you can never get; None but St. Peter's opes this cabinet, 110 This cabinet, whose aspect would benight Critic spectators with redundant light. A Prince most seen is least. What Scriptures call The Revelation, is most mystical. Mount then, thou Shadow Royal, and with haste Advance thy morning-star, Charles, overcast. May thy strange journey contradictions twist And force fair weather from a Scottish mist. Heaven's confessors are posed, those star-eyed sages, T' interpret an eclipse thus riding stages. 120 Thus Israel-like he travels with a cloud, Both as a conduct to him and a shroud. But oh, he goes to Gibeon and renews A league with mouldy bread and clouted shoes!

[The Kings Disguise.] That assumed on the fatal journey from Oxford to the camp of the Scots. (First printed as a quarto pamphlet of four leaves; Thomason bought his copy on 21 January, 1647; reprinted in the 1647 Poems. Vaughan wrote a poem on the same subject about the same time.)]

[Line: 1 a tenant to] so coffin'd in 1677.]

[Line: 2 Which] That 1677.]

[Line 4: 1677 omits 'now', rather to one's surprise, as the value 'allegi-ance' is of the first rather than of the second half of the century. It is therefore probably right.]

[Line: 14 transmute] transcribe 1677. The two readings obviously pertain to two different senses of 'blacks'--'clothes' and 'ink'.]

[Line: 17 for] from 1647 (pamphlet).]

[Line: 18 line 't] lin'de 1647 (pamphlet).]

[Line: 19 The 1677 'Vindicators' had forgotten 'budge' in the sense of 'fur' (perhaps they were too loyal to read Milton) and made it 'b_a_dge'.]

[Line: 20 1651, 1653 'Synod', with no hyphen but perhaps meant for a compound. The genitive is perhaps better. The comma at 'sable', which Mr. Berdan omits, is important.]

[Lines: 21-2 The error of those who say that such a rhyme points to the pronunciation of the l in words like 'could' is sufficiently shown by the fact that 'coud' is frequent. It is, of course, a mere eye-rhyme, like many of Spenser's earlier. 'No bodily' 1647 (pamphlet).]

[Line: 23 shape] garb 1677.]

[Line: 24 of] to 1677.]

[Line: 25 'Twill break' 1647, 1653. tailor's] jailor's 1647, 1651, 1653.]

[Line: 29 1653, but obviously by a mere misprint, 'co_u_rser'.]

[Line: 31 1647, 1651, 1653 'the college'. It is said that the definite article usually at this time designates 'the College of Physicians'. But, as Mr. Berdan well observes, 'the case was unfortunately too common to admit of identification'. Cleveland's restless wit was not idle in calling 'Manchester's elves'--the Parliamentary troops--'changelings'. The soldier ought to be a King's man: and indeed pretended to be.]

[Line: 32 1647 (pamphlet) 'reformed'.]

[Line: 40 This and l. 47 are examples of the Drydenian line before Dryden, so frequent in Cleveland.]

[Line: 46 = 'The unborn child of a cloud'.]

[Line: 47 Alliteration, and some plausibility of verse, seduced 1677 into 'of State', but I think 'fate' is better.]

[Line: 50 checks] shrinks 1647, 1651, 1653.]

[Lines: 55-6 1647, 1651, 1653 read

Nor the false scabbard of a Princ_e's_ tough Metal and three-piled darkness like the slough.

Some fight might be made for 'Metal', but 'Nor' is indefensible. I am half inclined to transfer it above to l. 52 and take 'No' thence. The text, which is 1677, is I suppose a correction. Both 1647 texts mark 'slough' with an asterisk, and have a marginal note 'A damp in coal-pits usual'.]

[Line: 57 I cannot understand what Mr. Berdan--who prints 'Fawkes'--means by saying it is not authorized by any edition, whereas his own apparatus gives 'Faux' in every one. It is a mere question of spelling. 'Three-piled darkness' equally surrounds to me his further remark that he 'adopted it as the only reading approximating sense; treason in grain'. The metaphor of the dark lantern cloaked is surely clear enough; and this 'in grain' is one of the innumerable passages showing the rashness of invariably interpreting 'in grain' as = 'with the grain of the cochineal insect'. Beyond all doubt it has the simple sense of penitus, 'inward'.]

[Line: 58 bright] high 1647, 1653.]

[Line: 59 the Warwick Castle vote] The Resolution of the Commons on May 6, 1646, that the King, after the Scots sold him, should be lodged in Warwick Castle.]

[Lines: 61-2 Not in 1647, 1651, 1653 and its group, but added in 1677.]

[Line: 63 1647, 1651, 1653 'Thy visage'.]

[Line: 67 1677 has the very considerable and not at once acceptable alteration of 'thatch a poet's plot'. But it may have been Cleveland.]

[Line: 72 1647, 1651, again give an asterisked note, 'Britanicus', showing the definite, not general, reference of 'Hue and Cry'. It seems that Mercurius Britannicus did issue a 'Hue and Cry' after the King, for which the editor, Captain Audley, was put in the Gate-house till he apologized.]

[Line: 75 1651 'wreath', corrupted into 'wrath' in 1653.]

[Line: 76 Blount stupidly thought 'callow' to mean 'lewd or wicked', as if 'unfledged' did not ratify the usual sense.]

[Line: 80 breeds] brings 1647, 1651.]

[Line: 83 Si quis] The first words of a formal inquiry as to disqualifications in a candidate for orders, &c. It would apply to the Hue and Cry itself.]

[Line: 85 It being a favourite Puritan trick to identify 'Royalist' with 'Papist'. 'Date' apparently in the sense of 'begin', which it usually has only as neuter.]

[Line: 89 puzzling] 1677 and its followers 'purling', with no sense.]

[Line: 95 1677 'The second view' and 'wipes'.]

[Line: 106 Bristol] as of diamonds.]

[Line: 109 coffer] cipher 1677, &c.]

[Line: 110 opes] ope 1677.]

[Line: 116 'Charles' 1677: 1647, 1651, 1653, by a clear error 'Charles's'.]

[Line: 120 'T' interpret an' 1647 (pamphlet): 'To interpret an' 1647 (Poems) 1653, 1677. 1651 omits 'To' and reads the 'an' which seems bad in metre and meaning alike.]

The Rebel Scot.

How, Providence? and yet a Scottish crew? Then Madam Nature wears black patches too! What? shall our nation be in bondage thus Unto a land that truckles under us? Ring the bells backward! I am all on fire. Not all the buckets in a country quire Shall quench my rage. A poet should be feared, When angry, like a comet's flaming beard. And where 's the stoic can his wrath appease, To see his country sick of Pym's disease? 10 By Scotch invasion to be made a prey To such pigwiggin myrmidons as they? But that there 's charm in verse, I would not quote The name of Scot without an antidote; Unless my head were red, that I might brew Invention there that might be poison too. Were I a drowsy judge whose dismal note Disgorgeth halters as a juggler's throat Doth ribbons; could I in Sir Emp'ric's tone Speak pills in phrase and quack destruction; 20 Or roar like Marshall, that Geneva bull, Hell and damnation a pulpit full; Yet to express a Scot, to play that prize, Not all those mouth-grenadoes can suffice. Before a Scot can properly be curst, I must like Hocus swallow daggers first. Come, keen iambics, with your badger's feet And badger-like bite till your teeth do meet. Help, ye tart satirists, to imp my rage With all the scorpions that should whip this age. 30 Scots are like witches; do but whet your pen, Scratch till the blood come, they'll not hurt you then. Now, as the martyrs were enforced to take The shapes of beasts, like hypocrites, at stake, I'll bait my Scot so, yet not cheat your eyes; A Scot within a beast is no disguise. No more let Ireland brag her harmless nation Fosters no venom since the Scot's plantation: Nor can ours feigned antiquity maintain; Since they came in, England hath wolves again. 40 The Scot that kept the Tower might have shown, Within the grate of his own breast alone, The leopard and the panther, and engrossed What all those wild collegiates had cost The honest high-shoes in their termly fees; First to the salvage lawyer, next to these. Nature herself doth Scotchmen beasts confess, Making their country such a wilderness: A land that brings in question and suspense God's omnipresence, but that Charles came thence, 50 But that Montrose and Crawford's loyal band Atoned their sins and christ'ned half the land. Nor is it all the nation hath these spots; There is a Church as well as Kirk of Scots. As in a picture where the squinting paint Shows fiend on this side, and on that side saint. He, that saw Hell in 's melancholy dream And in the twilight of his fancy's theme, Scared from his sins, repented in a fright, Had he viewed Scotland, had turned proselyte. 60 A land where one may pray with cursed intent, 'Oh may they never suffer banishment!' Had Cain been Scot, God would have changed his doom; Not forced him wander but confined him home! Like Jews they spread and as infection fly, As if the Devil had ubiquity. Hence 'tis they live at rovers and defy This or that place, rags of geography. They're citizens o' th' world; they're all in all; Scotland's a nation epidemical. 70 And yet they ramble not to learn the mode, How to be dressed, or how to lisp abroad; To return knowing in the Spanish shrug, Or which of the Dutch States a double jug Resembles most in belly or in beard, (The card by which the mariners are steered). No, the Scots-errant fight and fight to eat, Their Ostrich stomachs make their swords their meat. Nature with Scots as tooth-drawers hath dealt Who use to hang their teeth upon their belt. 80 Yet wonder not at this their happy choice, The serpent 's fatal still to Paradise. Sure, England hath the hemorrhoids, and these On the north postern of the patient seize Like leeches; thus they physically thirst After our blood, but in the cure shall burst! Let them not think to make us run o' th' score To purchase villenage, as once before When an act passed to stroke them on the head, Call them good subjects, buy them gingerbread. 90 Not gold, nor acts of grace, 'tis steel must tame The stubborn Scot; a Prince that would reclaim Rebels by yielding, doth like him, or worse, Who saddled his own back to shame his horse. Was it for this you left your leaner soil, Thus to lard Israel with Egypt's spoil? They are the Gospel's life-guard; but for them, The garrison of New Jerusalem, What would the brethren do? The Cause! The Cause! Sack-possets and the fundamental laws! 100 Lord! what a godly thing is want of shirts! How a Scotch stomach and no meat converts! They wanted food and raiment, so they took Religion for their seamstress and their cook. Unmask them well; their honours and estate, As well as conscience, are sophisticate. Shrive but their titles and their money poise, A laird and twenty pence pronounced with noise, When construed, but for a plain yeoman go, And a good sober two-pence; and well so. 110 Hence then, you proud impostors; get you gone, You Picts in gentry and devotion; You scandal to the stock of verse, a race Able to bring the gibbet in disgrace. Hyperbolus by suffering did traduce The ostracism and shamed it out of use. The Indian, that Heaven did forswear Because he heard some Spaniards were there, Had he but known what Scots in Hell had been, He would Erasmus-like have hung between. 120 My Muse hath done. A voider for the nonce! I wrong the Devil should I pick their bones; That dish is his; for, when the Scots decease, Hell, like their nation, feeds on barnacles. A Scot, when from the gallow-tree got loose, Drops into Styx and turns a Solan goose.

[The Rebel Scot.] This famous piece is said to be the only one of Cleveland's poems which is in every edition. In 1677 it is accompanied by a Latin version (of very little merit, and probably if not certainly by 'another hand') which I do not give. A poor copy is in Tanner MS. 465 of the Bodleian, at fol. 92, with the title 'A curse on the Scots'. The piece is hot enough, and no wonder; but it would no doubt have been hotter if it had been written later, when Cleveland was actually gagged by Leven's dismissal of him. It is not unnoteworthy that the library of the University of Edinburgh contains not a single one of the numerous seventeenth-century editions of Cleveland. Years afterwards, when a Douglas had chequered the disgrace of 'the Dutch in the Medway' by a brave death, Marvell, who probably knew our poet, composed for 'Cleveland's Ghost' a half palinode, half continuation, entitled 'The Loyal Scot'.]

[Line: 10 It would seem that Pym had not yet gone to his account, as he died on December 6, 1643, after getting Parliament to accept the Covenant and the Scots to invade England.]

[Line: 12 The early texts have Drayton's name correctly: 1677 makes it 'Pigwidgin'.]

[Line: 15 It seems hardly necessary to remind the reader of the well-known habit of painting Judas's hair red.]

[Line: 19 could ... tone] or in the Empiric's misty tone MS.]

[Line: 21 Stephen Marshall, the 'Smec.' man and a mighty cushion-thumper (who denounced the 'Curse of Meroz' on all who came not to destroy those in any degree opposed to the Parliament), actually preached Pym's funeral sermon.]

[Line: 22 'Damnati-on'. But MS. reads 'a whole pulpit full'.]

[Line: 28 1653 has the obvious blunder of 'feet' repeated for 'teeth'. The first 'feet' is itself less obvious, but I suppose the strong claw and grip of the badger's are meant. Some, however, refer it to the supposed lop-sidedness or inequality of badgers' feet, answering to the [)]-- of the iamb. I never knew but one badger, who lived in St. Clement's, Oxford, and belonged (surreptitiously) to Merton College. I did not notice his feet.]

[Line: 32 The more usual reproach was the other way--that 'the Scot would not fight till he saw his own blood'.]

[Line: 38 1677, less well, 'that Scot'.]

[Line: 39 'ours ... maintain' 1647, 1651, 1653: 'our ... obtain' 1677.]

[Line: 41 The Scot] Sir William Balfour, a favoured servant of the King, who deserted to the other side.]

[Line: 44 A difficulty has been made about 'collegiate', but there is surely none. The word (or 'colleg_ian_') is old slang, and hardly slang for 'jail-bird'. The double use of the Tower as a prison and a menagerie should of course be remembered.]

[Line: 45 high-shoes] Country folk in boots.

termly] = 'when they came up to business'.]

[Line: 51 Crawford] Ludovic, sixteenth Earl, who fought bravely all through the Rebellion, served after the downfall in France and Spain, and died, it is not accurately known when or where, but about 1652.]

[Line: 52 A fine line. 1677 does not improve it by reading 'their land'.]

[Lines: 63-4 The central and most often quoted couplet.]

[Lines: 65-6 follow 70 in the MS.]

[Line: 67 at rovers] Common for shooting not at a definite mark, but at large.]

[Line: 70 epidemical] In the proper sense of 'travelling from country to country', not doubtless without the transferred one of a 'travelling plague'.]

[Line: 74 States] not the Provinces; but the representative Hogan Mogans themselves.]

[Line: 78 'Ostrich' in 1677: 1647, 1651, and 1653 the older 'estrich'.]

[Line: 80 hang] string 1677.]

[Line: 81 'But why should we be made your frantic choice?' MS.]

[Line: 82 'England too hath emerods' MS.]

[Line: 83 1651, 1653 have a middle form between 'emerod' and 'hemorrhoid'--'Hemeroids'. 1647 'Hemerods'.]

[Line: 84 1647, 1651, 1653 and its group, oddly, 'posture'.]

[Line: 89 The Parliamentary bribe or Danegelt of 1641.]

[Line: 95 'left' 1653, &c., 1677: 'gave' 1647, 1651. The MS. reads 'But they may justly quit their leaner soil. 'Tis to lard ...']

[Line: 101 1651, 1653 'goodly', but here, I think, the old is not the better.]

[Line: 107 'money' 1647, 1651, 1653: 'moneys' 1677.]

[Line: 108 1647, 1653, &c. 'pound', wrongly. Twenty Scots pence = not quite two-pence English. Therefore 'well so'.]

[Line: 118 1641, 1651, and 1653 'the Spaniards', but 'some' (1677) is more pointed.]

[Line: 120 Erasmus] Regarded as neither Papist nor Protestant?]

[Cleveland never wrote anything else of this force and fire: and it, or parts of it, were constantly revived when the occasion presented itself.]

The Scots' Apostasy.

Is 't come to this? What? shall the cheeks of Fame, Stretched with the breath of learned Loudoun's name, Be flagged again? And that great piece of sense, As rich in loyalty as eloquence, Brought to the test, be found a trick of state? Like chemists' tinctures, proved adulterate? The Devil sure such language did achieve To cheat our unforewarned Grandam Eve, As this impostor found out to besot Th' experienced English to believe a Scot! 10 Who reconciled the Covenant's doubtful sense, The Commons' argument, or the City's pence? Or did you doubt persistence in one good Would spoil the fabric of your brotherhood, Projected first in such a forge of sin, Was fit for the grand Devil's hammering? Or was 't ambition that this damned fact Should tell the world you know the sins you act? The infamy this super-treason brings Blasts more than murders of your sixty kings; 20 A crime so black, as being advis'dly done, Those hold with this no competition. Kings only suffered then; in this doth lie Th' assassination of Monarchy. Beyond this sin no one step can be trod, If not t' attempt deposing of your God. Oh, were you so engaged that we might see Heaven's angry lightning 'bout your ears to flee Till you were shrivelled to dust, and your cold Land Parched to a drought beyond the Lybian sand! 30 But 'tis reserved! Till Heaven plague you worse, Be objects of an epidemic curse. First, may your brethren, to whose viler ends Your power hath bawded, cease to count you friends, And, prompted by the dictate of their reason, Reproach the traitors though they hug the treason: And may their jealousies increase and breed Till they confine your steps beyond the Tweed: In foreign nations may your loath'd name be A stigmatizing brand of infamy, 40 Till forced by general hate you cease to roam The world, and for a plague go live at home; Till you resume your poverty and be Reduced to beg where none can be so free To grant: and may your scabby Land be all Translated to a general hospital: Let not the sun afford one gentle ray To give you comfort of a summer's day; But, as a guerdon for your traitorous war, Live cherished only by the Northern Star: 50 No stranger deign to visit your rude coast, And be to all but banished men as lost: And such, in heightening of the infliction due, Let provoked princes send them all to you: Your State a chaos be where not the Law, But power, your lives and liberties may awe: No subject 'mongst you keep a quiet breast, But each man strive through blood to be the best; Till, for those miseries on us you've brought, By your own sword our just revenge be wrought. 60 To sum up all--let your religion be, As your allegiance, masked hypocrisy, Until, when Charles shall be composed in dust, Perfumed with epithets of good and just, HE saved, incenséd Heaven may have forgot T' afford one act of mercy to a Scot, Unless that Scot deny himself and do (What's easier far) renounce his Nation too.

[The Scots' Apostasy was first printed as a broadside in 1646, and assigned at the time to Cleveland by Thomas Old. It was included in 1651, but not admitted by the 'Vindicators' in 1677. But it is in all the central group of editions except Cleaveland Revived, where absence is usually a strong proof of genuineness; and it is extremely like him. Mr. Berdan has admitted it, and so do I. Professor Case has noted a catalogue entry of The Scot's Constancy, an answer to J. C's. [al. Or an Answer to Cleveland's] Scots' Apostasy (G. R. Bastick) [al. Robin Bostock], London April 1647. The 'J. C's' is of course pertinent.]

[Line: 2 John Campbell (1598-1633), from 1620 Baron Loudoun in his wife's right, was, after taking a violent part on the Covenant side in the earlier Scotch-English war, instrumental in concluding peace; and was made in 1641 Chancellor of Scotland and Earl of Loudoun.]

[Line: 4 as] 'and' 1653.]

[Line: 9 'imposture' 1651, 1653.]

[Line: 20 The celebrated and grisly collection of Scottish monarchs in Holyrood was not yet in existence; for its imaginative creator only painted it in 1684, and there are 106, not sixty. But the remoteness of Scottish pedigrees was popularly known: and if it be not true that all Scottish kings were murdered, not a few had been.]

[Line: 24 'Assassination' is valued at six syllables.]

[Line: 28 'to' 1651, &c.: 'into' 1646.]

[Line: 31 Till] and tell 1646, 1651.]

[Line: 34 'count you' 1646, 1651, 1653, &c.: 'be your' 1687. This prayer, at any rate, was heard pretty soon.]

[Line: 38 'steps' 1651, &c.: 'ships' 1646.]

[Line: 42 'go', misprinted 'to' in 1653, &c.]

[Lines: 67-8 Not in 1646.]

Rupertismus.

O that I could but vote myself a poet, Or had the legislative knack to do it! Or, like the doctors militant, could get Dubbed at adventure Verser Banneret! Or had I Cacus' trick to make my rhymes Their own antipodes, and track the times! 'Faces about,' says the remonstrant spirit, 'Allegiance is malignant, treason merit.' Huntingdon colt, that posed the sage recorder, Might be a sturgeon now and pass by order. 10 Had I but Elsing's gift (that splay-mouthed brother That declares one way and yet means another), Could I thus write asquint, then, Sir, long since You had been sung a great and glorious Prince! I had observed the language of these days, Blasphemed you, and then periwigged the phrase With humble service and such other fustian, Bells which ring backward in this great combustion. I had reviled you, and without offence; The literal and equitable sense 20 Would make it good. When all fails, that will do 't; Sure that distinction cleft the Devil's foot! This were my dialect, would your Highness please To read me but with Hebrew spectacles; Interpret counter what is cross rehearsed; Libels are commendations when reversed. Just as an optic glass contracts the sight At one end, but when turned doth multiply 't. But you're enchanted, Sir, you're doubly free From the great guns and squibbing poetry, 30 Whom neither bilbo nor invention pierces, Proof even 'gainst th' artillery of verses. Strange that the Muses cannot wound your mail! If not their art, yet let their sex prevail. At that known leaguer, where the bonny Besses Supplied the bow-strings with their twisted tresses, Your spells could ne'er have fenced you, every arrow Had lanced your noble breast and drunk the marrow. For beauty, like white powder, makes no noise And yet the silent hypocrite destroys. 40 Then use the Nuns of Helicon with pity Lest Wharton tell his gossips of the City That you kill women too, nay maids, and such Their general wants militia to touch. Impotent Essex! Is it not a shame Our Commonwealth, like to a Turkish dame, Should have an eunuch guardian? May she be Ravished by Charles, rather than saved by thee! But why, my Muse, like a green-sickness girl, Feed'st thou on coals and dirt? A gelding earl 50 Gives no more relish to thy female palate Than to that ass did once the thistle sallet. Then quit the barren theme and all at once, Thou and thy sisters like bright Amazons, Give Rupert an alarum. Rupert! one Whose name is wit's superfetation, Makes fancy, like eternity's round womb, Unite all valour, present, past, to come! He who the old philosophy controls That voted down plurality of souls! 60 He breathes a Grand Committee; all that were The wonders of their age constellate here. And as the elder sisters, Growth and Sense, Souls paramount themselves, in man commence But faculties of reasons queen; no more Are they to him (who was complete before), Ingredients of his virtue. Thread the beads Of Caesar's acts, great Pompey's and the Swede's, And 'tis a bracelet fit for Rupert's hand, By which that vast triumvirate is spanned. 70 Here, here is palmistry; here you may read How long the world shall live and when 't shall bleed. What every man winds up, that Rupert hath, For Nature raised him of the Public Faith; Pandora's brother, to make up whose store The gods were fain to run upon the score. Such was the painter's brief for Venus' face; Item, an eye from Jane; a lip from Grace. Let Isaac and his cits flay off the plate That tips their antlers, for the calf of state; 80 Let the zeal-twanging nose, that wants a ridge, Snuffling devoutly, drop his silver bridge; Yes, and the gossip spoon augment the sum Although poor Caleb lose his christendom; Rupert outweighs that in his sterling self Which their self-want pays in commuting pelf. Pardon, great Sir, for that ignoble crew Gains when made bankrupt in the scales with you. As he, who in his character of Light Styled it God's shadow, made it far more bright 90 By an eclipse so glorious (light is dim And a black nothing when compared to Him), So 'tis illustrious to be Rupert's foil And a just trophy to be made his spoil. I'll pin my faith on the Diurnal's sleeve Hereafter, and the Guildhall creed believe; The conquests which the Common Council hears With their wide listening mouth from the great Peers That ran away in triumph. Such a foe Can make them victors in their overthrow; 100 Where providence and valour meet in one, Courage so poised with circumspection That he revives the quarrel once again Of the soul's throne; whether in heart, or brain, And leaves it a drawn match; whose fervour can Hatch him whom Nature poached but half a man; His trumpet, like the angel's at the last, Makes the soul rise by a miraculous blast. Was the Mount Athos carved in shape of man As 'twas designed by th' Macedonian 110 (Whose right hand should a populous land contain, The left should be a channel to the main), His spirit would inform th' amphibious figure And, strait-laced, sweat for a dominion bigger. The terror of whose name can out of seven, Like Falstaff's buckram men, make fly eleven. Thus some grow rich by breaking. Vipers thus, By being slain, are made more numerous. No wonder they'll confess no loss of men, For Rupert knocks 'em till they gig again. 120 They fear the giblets of his train, they fear Even his dog, that four-legged cavalier; He that devours the scraps that Lunsford makes; Whose picture feeds upon a child in steaks; Who, name but Charles, he comes aloft for him, But holds up his malignant leg at Pym. 'Gainst whom they have these articles in souse: First, that he barks against the sense o' th' House; Resolved delinquent, to the Tower straight, Either to th' Lions' or the Bishop's Grate: 130 Next, for his ceremonious wag o' th' tail. (But there the sisterhood will be his bail, At least the Countess will, Lust's Amsterdam, That lets in all religions of the game.) Thirdly, he smells intelligence; that 's better And cheaper too than Pym's from his own letter, Who 's doubly paid (Fortune or we the blinder!) For making plots and then for fox the finder: Lastly, he is a devil without doubt, For, when he would lie down, he wheels about, 140 Makes circles, and is couchant in a ring; And therefore score up one for conjuring. 'What canst thou say, thou wretch!' 'O quarter, quarter! I'm but an instrument, a mere Sir Arthur. If I must hang, O let not our fates vary, Whose office 'tis alike to fetch and carry!' No hopes of a reprieve; the mutinous stir That strung the Jesuit will dispatch a cur. 'Were I a devil as the rabble fears, I see the House would try me by my peers!' 150 There, Jowler, there! Ah, Jowler! 'st, 'tis nought! Whate'er the accusers cry, they're at a fault: And Glyn and Maynard have no more to say Than when the glorious Strafford stood at bay. Thus libels but annexed to him, we see, Enjoy a copyhold of victory. Saint Peter's shadow healed; Rupert's is such 'Twould find Saint Peter's work and wound as much. He gags their guns, defeats their dire intent; The cannons do but lisp and compliment. 160 Sure, Jove descended in a leaden shower To get this Perseus; hence the fatal power Of shot is strangled. Bullets thus allied Fear to commit an act of parricide. Go on, brave Prince, and make the world confess Thou art the greater world and that the less. Scatter th' accumulative king; untruss That five-fold fiend, the State's Smectymnuus, Who place religion in their vellum ears As in their phylacters the Jews did theirs. 170 England's a paradise (and a modest word) Since guarded by a cherub's flaming sword. Your name can scare an atheist to his prayers, And cure the chincough better than the bears. Old Sibyl charms the toothache with you; Nurse Makes you still children; and the ponderous curse The clowns salute with is derived from you, 'Now, Rupert take thee, rogue, how dost thou do?' In fine the name of Rupert thunders so, Kimbolton's but a rumbling wheelbarrow. 180

[Rupertismus] 'To P. Rupert' in the 1647 texts (Bodley and Case copies). The odd title Rupertismus was first given in 1651. This poem expresses the earlier and more sanguine Cavalier temper, when things on the whole went well. Rupert's admirable quality as an officer naturally made him a sort of Cavalier cynosure and (with his being half a foreigner) a bugbear to the Roundheads; while neither party had yet found out his fatal defects as a general. Hence 'Rupertismus' not ill described the humour of both sides. The dog who figures so largely was a real dog (said of course to be a familiar spirit), and Professor Firth tells me that he has a pamphlet (1642) entitled Observations upon P. R.'s white dog called Boy, carefully taken by T. B., with a picture of the animal. It was replied to by The Parliament's Unspotted Bitch next year.]

[Lines: 1, 2 The 'legislative knack' to vote oneself everything good and perfect has always been a gift of Houses of Commons. It was rather shrewd of Cleveland to formulate it so early and so well.]

[Line: 4 Bannerets being properly dubbed on the field of battle. 'Adventure' 1677: 'Adventures' 1647, 1651, 1687: 'adventurers' 1653 and its group.]

[Line: 5 Cacus' trick] of dragging his cattle by the tails.]

[Line: 7 spirit] A word their abuse of which was constantly thrown in the face of the Puritans till Swift's thrice rectified vitriol almost destroyed the abuse itself.]

[Line: 8 malignant] in the technical Roundhead sense.]

[Line: 9 The gibe at Huntingdon, clear enough from the passage, is one of many old local insults. I can remember when it was a little unsafe, in one of the Channel islands, to speak of a donkey. This particular jest recurs in Pepys (May 22, 1677), who was in a way a Huntingdon man.]

[Line: 11 Elsing] Clerk to the House of Commons.]

[Line: 13 'thus' 1677: 'but' 1647 and the earlier texts. write] 1653, 'right'--evidently one of the numerous mistakes due to dictating copy.]

[Line: 14 'The Prince' was a title which Rupert monopolized early and kept till his death.]

[Line: 15 'these' 1677: 'the' 1647, 1651, 1653, 1687.]

[Line: 20 1677 'th' equitable'.]

[Line: 24 The rhyme of '-cles' to an ee syllable occurs in Dryden.]

[Line: 31 'Who' 1653 and its group.]

[Line: 35 Carthage. Rupert's devotion to ladies was lifelong.]

[Line: 39 'White' or noiseless powder was a constant object of research.]

[Line: 45 Essex was twice divorced on the ground mentioned, and his efficiency in the field was not to be much greater than that in the chamber.]

[Line: 53 1677, &c., 'his barren theme'.]

[Line: 65 1654 'faculty'. 1677 'Reason Queen'. I am not sure which is right.]

[Lines: 66-7 So punctuated in 1677. Earlier texts and 1687 'who were to him complete before. Ingredients of his virtue thread' ... 1677 reads 'virtues'.]

[Line: 68 'the Swede': of course Gustavus Adolphus.]

[Line: 73 1647, 1651, 1653 'Whatever'.]

[Line: 74 1677, apparently alone, 'o_n_ the'].

[Line: 78 1653, evidently by slip, 'for Jane'.]

[Line: 79 1647, 1651, 1653 'Cit'z' (not quite bad for '_citiz_ens) and 'flea of the place'. 'Flea' for 'flay' is not uncommon: the rest is absurd. 'Isaac' was Isaac Pennington, father of that Judith whose obliging disposition Mr. Pepys has commemorated.]

[Line: 80 'Antl_ets_', which occurs in all, is not impossible for 'antl_ers_' (the everlastingly ridiculed citizen 'horns'). But 1647, 1651, 1653 forgot the Golden Calf altogether in their endeavour to provide a rhyme for their own misprint (l. 79) by reading 'Stace'.]

[Line: 83 'Gossip's' (1651, 1677) is not wanted and hisses unnecessarily.]

[Line: 86 'self-wants' 1647, 1651, 1653, 1687. 1677, most improbably, 'committee'. The whole passage refers to the subscriptions of plate and money in lieu of personal service which Pennington, as Lord Mayor, promised 'on the Public Faith'. Rupert's self outweighs all this vicarious performance.]

[Line: 89 'whom' 1653, 1654.]

[Line: 92 to] with 1677.]

[Line: 95 Diurnal] Which Cleveland satirized in his first published (prose) work.]

[Line: 98 As Wharton at Edgehill. 'Mouths' 1647, 1687.]

[Line: 100 them] men 1677.]

[Line: 109 Was the] 'Twas the 1647, 1651, 1653: Was that 1677. 'Was' = 'if it were'.]

[Line: 110 designed] 1647, 1651, 1653 'defin'd', with a clear f, not long s.]

[Line: 113 would] 1647, 1651, 1653 might.]

[Line: 114 The text is 1677, which, however, reads (with the usual want of strait-lacedness) 'straight'. 1651, 1653, have 'Yet' for 'And', which is corrected in some of their own group, and 'sweats'.]

[Line: 117 some] Like Mr. Badman a little later.]

[Line: 120 gig] = 'spin like a top'. Dryden uses the word in the same sense and almost in the same phrase in the Prologue to Amphitryon, l. 21: v. sup., p. 17.]

[Line: 121 giblets] Apparently in the sense of 'offal', 'refuse'.]

[Line: 123 Lunsford] Sir Thomas, 1610?-1653. The absurd legends about this Cavalier's 'child-eating' are referred to in, originally, Hudibras and in Lacy's Old Troop, and at second-hand (probably from the text also, though it is not quoted) in the notes to Scott's Woodstock. 1651 and 1653 have 'which' for second 'that'.]

[Line: 124 steaks] All old editions 'stakes'--a very common spelling, which Mr. Berdan keeps. As he modernizes the rest, his readers may be under the impression that the ogre impaled the infants before devouring them, which was not, I think, alleged by the most savoury professor on the Roundhead side.]

[Line: 127 souse] = 'pickle'. 'they have these' 1677: 'they've several' 1647, 1651: 'they have several' 1653.]

[Line: 130 Bishop's] 1677, 1687 editions have the apostrophe. Laud is probably referred to in 'Bishop's'. The force of all this, and its application to other times, are admirable.]

[Line: 133 The Countess--pretty clearly Lucy Hay, Countess of Carlisle (1599-1660)--beauty, wit, harlot, and traitress (though, too late, she repented). Amsterdam] The religious indifference of the Dutch being a common reproach.

1677 and its followers read 'with' for 'will', which would alter the sense completely.]

[Line: 134 1647, 1651, 1653 have 'religious' in the well-known noun sense, and it is possibly better.]

[Line: 144 Sir Arthur Haselrig (died 1661)--a very busy person throughout the troubles, but not considered as exactly a prime mover.]

[Line: 148 1677 'the cur'.]

[Line: 149 'rabble' is 1677 and seems good, though the earlier 'rebel' might do.]

[Line: 152 a fault] 1677 default--not so technical.]

[Line: 153 Serjeants John Glyn[ne] (1607-66) and John Maynard (1602-90) were well-known legal bandogs on the Roundhead side in the earlier stages; but both trimmed cleverly during the later, and sold themselves promptly to the Crown at the Restoration. Glynne died soon. Maynard lived to prosecute the victims of the Popish Plot, and to turn his coat once more, at nearly ninety, for William of Orange.]

[Line: 155 1647, 1651, 1653 'l_a_bels': 1677 'Thus libels but amount to him we see T' enjoy'.]

[Line: 158 1677 'St. Peter', which looks plausible, though I am not sure that it is better than the genitive. 1647, 1651, 1653 have 'yet' for 'and' as in other cases.]

[Line: 167 the accumulative king] Pym? who was nicknamed 'king' Pym, and if not exactly 'accumulative' (for his debts were paid by Parliament) must have been expensive and was probably rapacious. Others think it means 'the Committee', 'accumulative' being = 'cumulative' (or rather 'plural'). They quote, not without force, our poet's prose Character of a Country Committee man, 'a Committee man is a name of multitude', the phrase 'accumulative treason' occurring in the context.]

[Line: 175 1677 transfers 'the' to before 'Nurse'--a great loss, the unarticled and familiar 'Nurse' being far better--and reads 'Sibils charm'.]

[Line: 176 'and' 1653, 1677: 'nay and' 1647, 1651, 1687.]

[Line: 177 1677 'Clown salutes'.]

Epitaph on the Earl of Strafford.

Here lies wise and valiant dust Huddled up 'twixt fit and just; Strafford, who was hurried hence 'Twixt treason and convenience. He spent his time here in a mist; A Papist, yet a Calvinist; His Prince's nearest joy and grief He had, yet wanted all relief; The prop and ruin of the State; The People's violent love and hate; 10 One in extremes loved and abhorred. Riddles lie here, or in a word, Here lies blood; and let it lie Speechless still and never cry.

[Epitaph, &c. In the Bodleian copy of 1647 and in Professor Case's (3rd issue) and in all others except Cleaveland Revived (1659) and 1677; but in some of the earliest classed with the work of 'Uncertain Authors'. Winstanley (no very strong authority, it is true) calls it Cleveland's and 'excellent'. It is perhaps too much to say with Mr. Berdan, that it is 'unlike his manner'. There is certainly in it a manner which he does not often display, but the pity and the terror of that great tragedy might account for part of this, and the difficulty (for any Royalist) of speaking freely of it for more. It is rather fine, I think.]

[Line: 4 The pitiful truth could hardly be better put.]

[Line: 6 Obscure, but not un-Clevelandish.]

[Lines: 7-8 Punctuation altered to get what seems the necessary sense. A comma which 1653 has at 'grief' (not to mention a full stop in the 1647 texts) obscures this, and a comma at 'wanted', which Mr. Berdan puts, does so even more. The phrase is once more fatally just and true. He enjoyed all his master's affection and received all his grief, but 'wanted' his support and relief. Professor Case, however, would cling to the stop, at least the comma, at 'grief'.]

[Line: 12 or] Other editions 'and'. For 'Riddles' cf. _The King's Disguise_, ll. 89-90.]

[Lines: 13-14 For the third time 'he says it', and there is no more to say.--In 1653 there follows a Latin Epitaph on Strafford which has nothing to do with this. It is in some phrases enigmatic enough to be Cleveland's, but it is not certainly his, and as it is neither English nor verse we need hardly give it.]

An Elegy upon the Archbishop of Canterbury.

I need no Muse to give my passion vent, He brews his tears that studies to lament. Verse chemically weeps; that pious rain Distilled with art is but the sweat o' th' brain Whoever sobbed in numbers? Can a groan Be quavered out by soft division? 'Tis true for common formal elegies Not Bushel's Wells can match a poet's eyes In wanton water-works; he'll tune his tears From a Geneva jig up to the spheres. 10 But then he mourns at distance, weeps aloof. Now that the conduit head is our own roof, Now that the fate is public, we may call It Britain's vespers, England's funeral. Who hath a pencil to express the Saint But he hath eyes too, washing off the paint? There is no learning but what tears surround, Like to Seth's pillars in the Deluge drowned. There is no Church; Religion is grown So much of late that she 's increased to none, 20 Like an hydropic body, full of rheums, First swells into a bubble, then consumes. The Law is dead or cast into a trance,-- And by a law dough-baked, an Ordinance! The Liturgy, whose doom was voted next, Died as a comment upon him the text. There's nothing lives; life is, since he is gone, But a nocturnal lucubration. Thus you have seen death's inventory read In the sum total,--Canterbury's dead; 30 A sight would make a Pagan to baptize Himself a convert in his bleeding eyes; Would thaw the rabble, that fierce beast of ours, (That which hyena-like weeps and devours) Tears that flow brackish from their souls within, Not to repent, but pickle up their sin. Meantime no squalid grief his look defiles. He gilds his sadder fate with nobler smiles. Thus the world's eye, with reconciléd streams, Shines in his showers as if he wept his beams. 40 How could success such villanies applaud? The State in Strafford fell, the Church in Laud; The twins of public rage, adjudged to die For treasons they should act, by prophecy; The facts were done before the laws were made; The trump turned up after the game was played. Be dull, great spirits, and forbear to climb, For worth is sin and eminence a crime. No churchman can be innocent and high. 'Tis height makes Grantham steeple stand awry. 50

[An Elegy, &c. (1647.) If the Strafford epitaph seemed too serious, as well as too concentrated and passionate, for Cleveland, this on Strafford's fellow worker and fellow victim may seem almost a caricature of our author's more wayward and more fantastic manner. Yet there are fine lines in it, and perhaps nowhere else do we see the Dryden fashion of verse (though not of thought) more clearly foreshadowed. It appears to come under 'Uncertain Authors' in some 1647 texts, but 1677 gives it. Title in 1647, 1651, 1653 'On the Archbishop of Canterbury' only.]

[Line: 4 1677 'by art'.]

[Line: 6 1677 'in soft'.]

[Line: 8 Thomas Bushel[l] or Bushnell (1594-1674) was a page of Bacon's and afterwards a great 'projector' in mining and mechanical matters generally. He dabbled largely in fancy fountains and waterworks--a queer taste of the seventeenth century in which even the sober Evelyn records his own participation.]

[Lines: 9-10 Cf. the opening of the elegy on King, 'I like not tears in tune'.]

[Line: 11 1647, 1651, 1653, &c. 'when he mourns', which is hardly so good.]

[Line: 18 Seth's pillars] A tradition, preserved in Josephus, that the race of Seth engraved antediluvian wisdom on two pillars, one of brick, the other of stone, the latter of which outlasted the Deluge.]

[Line: 20 1647, 1651, 1653, &c. 'From much'.]

[Line: 34 1647, 1651 misprint 'Agena-like.]

[Line: 35 1653 misprints 'blackish'.]

[Line: 38 1647, 1651, 1653 'noble'.]

[Line: 44 1677, omitting the comma at 'act', makes something like nonsense; 'by prophecy' goes, I think, with 'adjudged to die'.]

[Line: 50 One would expect 'Chesterfield', for Grantham nowadays does not look very crooked--at least from the railway. But Fuller in the Worthies quotes this as a proverb. Some take it as referring to the height and slenderness of the steeple and an optical illusion. They might quote 'The high masts flickered as they lay afloat'. But few travellers had the excuse of Iphigenia.]

*On I. W. A. B. of York.

Say, my young sophister, what think'st of this? Chimera's real, Ergo falleris. The lamb and tiger, fox and goose agree And here concorp'rate in one prodigy. Call an Haruspex quickly: let him get Sulphur and torches, and a laurel wet, To purify the place: for sure the harms This monster will produce transcend his charms.-- 'Tis Nature's masterpiece of Error, this, And redeems whatever she did amiss 10 Before, from wonder and reproach, this last Legitimateth all her by-blows past. Lo! here a general Metropolitan, And arch-prelatic Presbyterian! Behold his pious garbs, canonic face, A zealous Episcopo-mastix Grace-- A fair blue-apron'd priest, a Lawn-sleeved brother, One leg a pulpit holds, a tub the other. Let 's give him a fit name now if we can, And make th' Apostate once more Christian. 20 'Proteus' we cannot call him: he put on His change of shapes by a succession, Nor 'the Welsh weather-cock', for that we find At once doth only wait upon the wind. These speak him not: but if you'll name him right, Call him Religion's Hermaphrodite. His head i' the sanctified mould is cast, Yet sticks th'abominable mitre fast. He still retains the 'Lordship' and the 'Grace', And yet hath got a reverend elder's place. 30 Such acts must needs be his, who did devise By crying altars down to sacrifice To private malice; where you might have seen His conscience holocausted to his spleen. Unhappy Church! the viper that did share Thy greatest honours, helps to make thee bare, And void of all thy dignities and store. Alas! thine own son proves the forest boar, And, like the dam-destroying cuckoo, he, When the thick shell of his Welsh pedigree 40 By thy warm fostering bounty did divide And open--straight thence sprung forth parricide: As if 'twas just revenge should be dispatched In thee, by th' monster which thyself hadst hatched. Despair not though, in Wales there may be got, As well as Lincolnshire, an antidote 'Gainst the foul'st venom he can spit, though 's head Were changed from subtle grey to pois'nous red. Heaven with propitious eyes will look upon Our party, now the curséd thing is gone; 50 And chastise Rebels who nought else did miss To fill the measure of their sins, but his-- Whose foul imparalleled apostasy, Like to his sacred character, shall be Indelible. When ages, then of late More happy grown, with most impartial fate A period to his days and time shall give, He by such Epitaphs as this shall live. _Here York's great Metropolitan is laid, Who God's Anointed, and His Church, betrayed._ 60

[On I. W. A. B. of York. (1647.) This vigorous onslaught on the trimmer John Williams, Archbishop of York, who began public life as a tool of Buckingham's and ended it as a kind of tolerated half-deserter to the Parliament, was turned out by the 'Vindicators' in 1677. There may, however, have been reasons for this, other than certain spuriousness. Williams, though driven to doubtful conduct by his enmity with Laud, never called himself anything but a Royalist, was imprisoned as such, and is said to have died of grief (perhaps of compunction) at the King's execution. Also both Lake and Drake were Yorkshire men. The piece is vigorous, if not quite Clevelandish in the presence of some enjambment, and the absence of extravagant conceit.]

[Line: 2 falleris] In advancing the general observation that 'twy-natured is no nature'.]

[Line: 10 whatever] Perhaps we should read 'whatsoe'er'.]

[Line: 15 'garb' 1653.]

[Line: 16 A parody of course on Prynne's Histrio-mastix.]

[Line: 21 'he' = Proteus. Williams went right over.]

[Line: 23 Williams was very popular with his fellow provincials. He took refuge in Wales when the war broke out, and was made a sort of mediator by the Welsh after Naseby.]

[Line: 26 'Religion's' 1647; 'Religious' 1651, 1653.]

[Line: 27 1651, 1653, 'I' th'': but here, as often, the apostrophation ruins the verse.]

[Line: 30 'hath' 1653: 'has' 1647, 1651.]

[Line: 32 Williams had been chairman of the Committee 'to consider innovations' in 1641. His private malice was to Laud.]

[Line: 46 I am not certain of the meaning. But Lincolnshire (at least Lindsey) was strongly Royalist early in the war till Cromwell's successes at Grantham, Lea Moor, and Winceby in 1643.]

[Line: 53 1647, 1651 'unparalleled'.]

Mark Antony.

When as the nightingale chanted her vespers, And the wild forester couched on the ground, Venus invited me in th' evening whispers Unto a fragrant field with roses crowned, Where she before had sent My wishes' compliment; Unto my heart's content Played with me on the green. Never Mark Antony Dallied more wantonly 10 With the fair Egyptian Queen.

First on her cherry cheeks I mine eyes feasted, Thence fear of surfeiting made me retire; Next on her warmer lips, which, when I tasted, My duller spirits made active as fire. Then we began to dart, Each at another's heart, Arrows that knew no smart, Sweet lips and smiles between. Never Mark, &c. 20

Wanting a glass to plait her amber tresses Which like a bracelet rich deckéd mine arm, Gaudier than Juno wears when as she graces Jove with embraces more stately than warm, Then did she peep in mine Eyes' humour crystalline; I in her eyes was seen As if we one had been. Never Mark, &c.

Mystical grammar of amorous glances; 30 Feeling of pulses, the physic of love; Rhetorical courtings and musical dances; Numbering of kisses arithmetic prove; Eyes like astronomy; Straight-limbed geometry; In her art's ingeny Our wits were sharp and keen. Never Mark Antony Dallied more wantonly With the fair Egyptian Queen.

[Mark Antony. The unusual prosodic interest of this piece, and its companion, has been explained in the Introduction. The pair appeared first in 1647 (3rd), where they follow The Character of a London Diurnal and precede the Poems.]

[Line: 14 'warmer' some copies of 1653: 1647, 1651 'warm'. Cf. 'bluer' in the 'Mock Song', l. 14 (below).]

[Line: 15 1677, &c. 'made me active'--a bad blunder.]

[Line: 35 'Straight limb' 1647.]

[Line: 36 'art's' is 1677 for 'heart's' in 1647, 1651, 1653. I rather prefer it, but with some doubts.]

[Line: 37 1677, &c. emends by substituting 'were' for 1647, 1651, 1653 'are'.]

The Author's Mock Song to Mark Antony.

When as the night-raven sung Pluto's matins And Cerberus cried three amens at a howl, When night-wandering witches put on their pattens, Midnight as dark as their faces are foul; Then did the furies doom That the nightmare was come. Such a misshapen groom Puts down Su. Pomfret clean. Never did incubus Touch such a filthy sus 10 As this foul gypsy quean.

First on her gooseberry cheeks I mine eyes blasted, Thence fear of vomiting made me retire Unto her bluer lips, which when I tasted, My spirits were duller than Dun in the mire. But then her breath took place Which went an usher's pace And made way for her face! You may guess what I mean. Never did, &c. 20

Like snakes engendering were platted her tresses, Or like the slimy streaks of ropy ale; Uglier than Envy wears, when she confesses Her head is periwigged with adder's tail. But as soon as she spake I heard a harsh mandrake. Laugh not at my mistake, Her head is epicene. Never did, &c.

Mystical magic of conjuring wrinkles; 30 Feeling of pulses, the palmistry of hags; Scolding out belches for rhetoric twinkles; With three teeth in her head like to three gags; Rainbows about her eyes And her nose, weather-wise; From them the almanac lies, Frost, Pond, and Rivers clean. Never did incubus Touch such a filthy sus As this foul gypsy quean. 40

[The Author's Mock Song. In 1647 this runs on as a continuation of 'Mark Anthony'.]

[Line: 1 1677 putidissime 'nightingale', as in the preceding poem. 'Night-raven' 1647, 1651, 1653 is certainly right. Mr. Berdan's copy seems to have 'But as', which I rather like; but mine has 'When'.]

[Line: 2 howl] hole 1647.]

[Line: 16 1677 'when', not impossibly.]

[Line: 21 platted] placed 1647.]

[Line: 22 1647, 1651 'the': omitted in 1653: 'to' inserted in 1677.]

[Line: 37 Cf. A Young Man, &c., l. 13.]

How the Commencement grows new.

It is no coranto-news I undertake; New teacher of the town I mean not to make; No New England voyage my Muse does intend; No new fleet, no bold fleet, nor bonny fleet send. But, if you'll be pleased to hear out this ditty, I'll tell you some news as true and as witty, And how the Commencement grows new.

See how the simony doctors abound, All crowding to throw away forty pound. They'll now in their wives' stammel petticoats vapour 10 Without any need of an argument draper. Beholding to none, he neither beseeches This friend for venison nor t'other for speeches, And so the Commencement grows new.

Every twice a day teaching gaffer Brings up his Easter-book to chaffer; Nay, some take degrees who never had steeple,-- Whose means, like degrees, comes from placets of people. They come to the fair and, at the first pluck, The toll-man Barnaby strikes 'um good luck, 20 And so the Commencement grows new.

The country parsons come not up On Tuesday night in their old College to sup; Their bellies and table-books equally full, The next lecture-dinner their notes forth to pull; How bravely the Margaret Professor disputed, The homilies urged, and the school-men confuted; And so the Commencement grows new.

The inceptor brings not his father the clown To look with his mouth at his grogoram gown; 30 With like admiration to eat roasted beef, Which invention posed his beyond-Trent belief; Who should he but hear our organs once sound, Could scarce keep his hoof from Sellenger's round, And so the Commencement grows new.

The gentleman comes not to show us his satin, To look with some judgment at him that speaks Latin, To be angry with him that marks not his clothes, To answer 'O Lord, Sir' and talk play-book oaths, And at the next bear-baiting (full of his sack) 40 To tell his comrades our discipline's slack; And so the Commencement grows new.

We have no prevaricator's wit. Ay, marry sir, when have you had any yet? Besides no serious Oxford man comes To cry down the use of jesting and hums. Our ballad (believe 't) is no stranger than true; Mum Salter is sober, and Jack Martin too, And so the Commencement grows new.

[How the Commencement, &c., belongs to the same group as the Mark Antony poems and Square-Cap, and there is the same ambiguity between four anapaests and five iambs. You would certainly take line 1 as it stands in 1677 with ''Tis' for 'It is', and probably as it stands here, for a heroic if line 2 did not come to undeceive you. And this line 2 is bad as either.

First printed in 1653. MS. copies are found in Rawlinson MS. Poet. 147, pp. 48-9, and Tanner MS. 465, fol. 83, of the Bodleian. Neither copy is good, but each helps to restore the text (see ll. 18 and 38). The Tanner MS. also has on fol. 44 an indignant poem 'Upon Mr. Cl. who made a Song against the DD^{rs}', beginning

Leave off, vain Satirist, and do not think, To stain our reverend purple with thy ink.

It adds the interesting evidence that the poem became a popular song at Cambridge:

Must gitterns now and fiddles be made fit, Be tuned and keyed to sweake [?squeak] a Johnian wit? Must now thy poems be made fidlers' notes, Puffed with Tobacco through their sooty throats? . . . . . . . . . . Are thy strong lines and mighty cart-rope things Now spun so small, they'll twist on fiddle strings? Canst thou prove Ballad-poet of the times? Can thy proud fancy stoop to penny rimes?

(This latter information, as to MSS., is Mr. Simpson's.)]

[Line: 5 out] but 1653.]

[Line: 9 forty pound] Still the regular doctorate fee, though relatively three or four times heavier then than now.]

[Line: 10 stammel] Properly a stuff; but, as generally or often red in colour, the colour itself.]

[Line: 11 I am not certain of the meaning of this line though I could conjecture.]

[Line: 13 nor t'other for speeches] MS. 'that for his breeches'.]

[Line: 15 1677 inserts 'the' before 'teaching', but the absence of the article is much more characteristic.]

[Line: 18 The 'Vindicators', in the new bondage of grammar, 'come'.

Placets] both MSS.: places 1653: placers 1677. 'Placets', evidently right, would baffle a non-university printer; probably the editors of 1677 attempted to correct it, but were again baffled by the printer.]

[Line: 22 1677 'they do not come up'--a natural but unnecessary patching of the line.]

[Line: 23 old] 1677 own--less well, I think.

Both MSS. read in ll. 22-3:

The country parson cometh not up, Till Tuesday night in his old College to sup. ]

[Line: 26 'Marg_e_ret' 1653: Marg'ret' 1677.]

[Line: 29 inceptor] = 'M.A. to be'.]

[Line: 30 'o' of 'grog[o]ram' usually omitted, but both 1653 and 1677 have it here.]

[Line: 32 The North usually salting and boiling its beef?]

[Line: 38 Tanner MS. has the metrical punctuation 'To be'angry' found occasionally in texts of the time: 'marks' Tanner MS., all the texts have 'makes'.]

[Line: 40 at the next bear-baiting] in his next company MSS.]

[Line: 44 1653 'we' for 'you', less pointedly, I think.]

[Line: 45 Cleveland lived to think better of Oxford--at least to take refuge and be warmly welcomed there. There has probably been no time at which either University was not convinced that the other, whatever its merits, could not see a joke.]

[Line: 48 1665 (not a very good edition) and the MSS. read 'Mu_n_', which was of course the usual short for Edmund. But 'Mu_m_' in the context is appropriate enough and generally read.

The intense Cambridge flavour of this seems to require special comment by a Cambridge man. For the duties of the 'Prevaricator' refer to Peacock's Observations on the Statutes of the University of Cambridge, 1841 (information kindly furnished by Mr. A. J. Bartholomew).]

The Hue and Cry after Sir John Presbyter.

With hair in characters and lugs in text; With a splay mouth and a nose circumflexed; With a set ruff of musket-bore that wears Like cartridges or linen bandoleers Exhausted of their sulphurous contents In pulpit fire-works, which that bomball vents; The Negative and Covenanting Oath, Like two mustachoes issuing from his mouth; The bush upon his chin like a carved story, In a box-knot cut by the Directory: 10 Madam's confession hanging at his ear, Wire-drawn through all the questions, how and where; Each circumstance so in the hearing felt That when his ears are cropped he'll count them gelt; The weeping cassock scared into a jump, A sign the presbyter's worn to the stump,-- The presbyter, though charmed against mischance With the divine right of an Ordinance! _If you meet any that do thus attire 'em, Stop them, they are the tribe of Adoniram._ 20 What zealous frenzy did the Senate seize, That tare the Rochet to such rags as these? Episcopacy minced, reforming Tweed Hath sent us runts even of her Church's breed, Lay-interlining clergy, a device That 's nickname to the stuff called lops and lice. The beast at wrong end branded, you may trace The Devil's footsteps in his cloven face; A face of several parishes and sorts, Like to a sergeant shaved at Inns of Courts. 30 What mean the elders else, those Kirk dragoons, Made up of ears and ruffs like ducatoons; That hierarchy of handicrafts begun; Those New Exchange men of religion? Sure, they're the antick heads, which placed without The church, do gape and disembogue a spout. Like them above the Commons' House, have been So long without; now both are gotten in. Then what imperious in the bishop sounds, The same the Scotch executor rebounds; 40 This stating prelacy the classic rout That spake it often, ere it spake it out. (So by an abbey's skeleton of late I heard an echo supererogate Through imperfection, and the voice restore, As if she had the hiccough o'er and o'er.) 'Since they our mixed diocesans combine Thus to ride double in their discipline, That Paul's shall to the Consistory call A Dean and Chapter out of Weavers' Hall, 50 Each at the ordinance for to assist With the five thumbs of his groat-changing fist. Down, Dagon-synod, with thy motley ware, Whilst we do swagger for the Common Prayer (That dove-like embassy that wings our sense To Heaven's gate in shape of innocence) Pray for the mitred authors, and defy These demicastors of divinity! For, when Sir John with Jack-of-all-trades joins, His finger 's thicker than the prelates' loins.' 60

[The Hue and Cry. (1653.) 1 'in characters' = in shorthand: 1677 has 'character', wrongly. 'lugs' = ears. 'in text' = in capitals.

Cf. Clievelandi Vindiciae, 1677, p. 122 (Cleveland's letter on a Puritan who had deserted to the Royalists. His officer complained that he had absconded with official money): 'I doubt not, but you will pardon your Man. He hath but transcribed Rebellion, and copied out that Disloyalty in Shorthand, which you have committed in Text.']

[Line: 6 bomball] A compound of 'bomb' and 'ball'.]

[Line: 20 Adoniram] Byfield, a clerk of the Westminster Assembly whose minutes have been published in modern times. A great ejector of the clergy, who unfortunately did not live long enough to be ejected himself.]

[Line: 26 This stuff does not by any means sound nice.]

[Line: 32 ducatoons] One would take it that the ducatoon had a back view of some one's head; but a passage of Hudibras, and Grey's note on it, have complicated the matter with a story about the Archduke Albert of Austria, which seems to have little if any relevance here.]

[Line: 35 antick heads] = 'gargoyles'.]

[Line: 41 classic] As in Milton. Nor is this the only point in which the two old Christ's men, now on such opposite sides, agree in the 'New Forcers of Conscience' and this piece.]

[Line: 52 1653 great-changing--a mere misprint.]

[Line: 54 do swagger for] 1677 most suspiciously improves to 'are champions for'.]

[From l. 43 onwards 1653 has the whole in italics, and it is pretty clear that after the first four lines the Echo speaks to the end. The 'Vindicators' do not seem to have seen this, though the absence of the quotes above would not prove it. Professor Case, however, thinks that 'So' refers to what precedes, and that in l. 47 and onwards the author and Echo speaks. It is possible.]

The Antiplatonic.

For shame, thou everlasting wooer, Still saying grace and never falling to her! Love that 's in contemplation placed Is Venus drawn but to the waist. Unless your flame confess its gender, And your parley cause surrender, Y' are salamanders of a cold desire That live untouched amidst the hottest fire.

What though she be a dame of stone, The widow of Pygmalion, 10 As hard and unrelenting she As the new-crusted Niobe, Or (what doth more of statue carry) A nun of the Platonic quarry? Love melts the rigour which the rocks have bred-- A flint will break upon a feather-bed. For shame, you pretty female elves, Cease for to candy up your selves; No more, you sectaries of the game, No more of your calcining flame! 20 Women commence by Cupid's dart As a king hunting dubs a hart. Love's votaries enthral each other's soul, Till both of them live but upon parole.

Virtue's no more in womankind But the green-sickness of the mind; Philosophy (their new delight) A kind of charcoal appetite. There 's no sophistry prevails Where all-convincing love assails, 30 But the disputing petticoat will warp, As skilful gamesters are to seek at sharp.

The soldier, that man of iron, Whom ribs of horror all environ, That's strung with wire instead of veins, In whose embraces you're in chains, Let a magnetic girl appear, Straight he turns Cupid's cuirassier. Love storms his lips, and takes the fortress in, For all the bristled turnpikes of his chin. 40

Since love's artillery then checks The breastworks of the firmest sex, Come, let us in affections riot; Th' are sickly pleasures keep a diet. Give me a lover bold and free, Not eunuched with formality, Like an ambassador that beds a queen With the nice caution of a sword between.

[The Antiplatonic. (1653.) This is a sort of half-way house between Cleveland's burlesques and his serious or semi-serious poems like Fuscara. It is also nearer to Suckling and the graceful-graceless school than most of his things. It is good.]

[Line: 2 The alteration of 1677 'and ne'er fall to her' may be only an example of the tendency to 'regularize' (in this case by the omission of an extra foot). But I confess it seems to me better: for the slight irregularity of the construction replaces that of the line to advantage.]

[Line: 10 I don't know whether the conceit of 'Pygmalion's widow' returning to marble (or ivory) when her husband-lover's embraces ceased is original with Cleveland. If it is, I make him my compliment. There is at any rate no hint of it in Ovid.]

[Line: 18 1677 changed the good old 'for' to 'thus'.]

[Line: 19 sectaries of] = 'heretics in'.]

[Line: 20 This is good: 'calcining flame' is good.]

[Line: 22 'dubs' is said to mean 'stabs', as it certainly means 'strikes'; but this seems to have little or no appropriateness here and to ignore the quaint conceit of 'commence' in its academic meaning. 'Women take their degrees by Cupid's dart: as the fact of being hunted by a king ennobles a hart.' Cupid = the King of Love.]

[Line: 24 'parole' too has a very delectable double meaning. This poem is really full of most excellent differences.]

[Lines: 25-9 The lesson of the unregenerate Donne and the never-regenerate Carew.]

[Line: 32 gamesters] = 'fencers'. to seek at sharp] = 'not good at sword-play'.]

[Line: 33 'The sol-di-er'. By the way, did Butler borrow this 'iron' and 'environ' rhyme from Cleveland?]

[Line: 43 The apostrophating mania made 1653 contract to 'let's' and spoil the verse.]

[Line: 44 Th'] here of course = 'they'.]

Fuscara, or the Bee Errant.

Nature's confectioner, the bee (Whose suckets are moist alchemy, The still of his refining mould Minting the garden into gold), Having rifled all the fields Of what dainties Flora yields, Ambitious now to take excise Of a more fragrant paradise, At my Fuscara's sleeve arrived Where all delicious sweets are hived. 10 The airy freebooter distrains First on the violets of her veins, Whose tincture, could it be more pure, His ravenous kiss had made it bluer. Here did he sit and essence quaff Till her coy pulse had beat him off; That pulse which he that feels may know Whether the world 's long-lived or no. The next he preys on is her palm, That alm'ner of transpiring balm; 20 So soft, 'tis air but once removed; Tender as 'twere a jelly gloved. Here, while his canting drone-pipe scanned The mystic figures of her hand, He tipples palmistry and dines On all her fortune-telling lines. He bathes in bliss and finds no odds Betwixt her nectar and the gods', He perches now upon her wrist, A proper hawk for such a fist, 30 Making that flesh his bill of fare Which hungry cannibals would spare; Where lilies in a lovely brown Inoculate carnation. He argent skin with or so streamed As if the milky way were creamed. From hence he to the woodbine bends That quivers at her fingers' ends, That runs division on the tree Like a thick-branching pedigree. 40 So 'tis not her the bee devours, It is a pretty maze of flowers; It is the rose that bleeds, when he Nibbles his nice phlebotomy. About her finger he doth cling I' th' fashion of a wedding-ring, And bids his comrades of the swarm Crawl as a bracelet 'bout her arm. Thus when the hovering publican Had sucked the toll of all her span, 50 Tuning his draughts with drowsy hums As Danes carouse by kettle-drums, It was decreed, that posie gleaned, The small familiar should be weaned. At this the errant's courage quails; Yet aided by his native sails The bold Columbus still designs To find her undiscovered mines. To th' Indies of her arm he flies, Fraught both with east and western prize; 60 Which when he had in vain essayed, Armed like a dapper lancepresade With Spanish pike, he broached a pore And so both made and healed the sore: For as in gummy trees there 's found A salve to issue at the wound, Of this her breach the like was true: Hence trickled out a balsam, too. But oh, what wasp was 't that could prove Ravaillac to my Queen of Love! 70 The King of Bees now 's jealous grown Lest her beams should melt his throne, And finding that his tribute slacks, His burgesses and state of wax Turned to a hospital, the combs Built rank-and-file like beadsmen's rooms, And what they bleed but tart and sour Matched with my Danae's golden shower, Live-honey all,--the envious elf Stung her, 'cause sweeter than himself. 80 Sweetness and she are so allied The bee committed parricide.

[Fuscara. (1651.) Cleveland's most famous poem of the amatory, as The Rebel Scot is of the political, kind. In 1677 and since it has been set in the forefront of his Poems, and Johnson draws specially on it for his famous diatribe against the metaphysicals in the 'Life of Cowley'. It seems to me inferior both to The Muses' Festival and to The Antiplatonic, and, as was said in the Introduction, it betrays, to me, something of an intention to fool the lovers of a fashionable style to the top of their bent. But it has extremely pretty things in it; and Mr. Addison, who denounced and scorned 'false wit', never 'fair-sexed it' in half so poetical a manner.]

[Line: 2 'Suckets' or 'succades' should need interpretation to no reader of Robinson Crusoe: and no one who has not read Robinson Crusoe deserves to be taken into consideration.]

[Line: 13 tincture] Said to be used here in an alchemical sense for 'gold'. But the plain meaning is much better.]

[Line: 18 Although the sense is not quite the same as, it is much akin to, that of Browning's question--

'Who knows but the world may end to night?' ]

[Line: 20 Cleveland of course uses the correct and not the modern and blundering sense of 'transpire'.]

[Line: 22 This 'jelly gloved' is not like 'mobled queen' or 'calcining flame'.]

[Lines: 25-6 1653 and its group have a queer misprint (carried out so as to rhyme, but hardly possible as a true reading) of 'dives' and 'lives'. If they had had 'In' instead of 'On' it would have been on the (metaphysical) cards, especially with 'bathes' following.]

[Line: 28 1653, less well, 'the nectar'.]

[Line: 30 Neat, i' faith!]

[Line: 33 'a lovely brown' as being Fuscara.]

[Line: 35 Here Cleveland dares his 'ill armoury again'; v. sup., p. 25. 'He' 1651, 1653: 'Her' 1677.]

[Line: 48 as] 1677, unnecessarily, 'like'. Some (baddish) editions 'on a bracelet'.]

[Line: 52 Hardly necessary to notice as another of Cleveland's Shakespearian touches.]

[Line: 62 The correcter form is 'lancep_e_sade'.]

[Line: 70 'Ratillias' 1651: 'Ratilias' 1653: corrected in 1677.]

[Line: 71 1677, dropping the verb from 'now's', improves the sense very much.]

*An Elegy upon Doctor Chad[d]erton, the first Master of Emanuel College in Cambridge, being above an hundred years old when he died.

(Occasioned by his long-deferred funeral.)

Pardon, dear Saint, that we so late With lazy sighs bemoan thy fate, And with an after-shower of verse And tears, we thus bedew thy hearse. Till now, alas! we did not weep, Because we thought thou didst but sleep. Thou liv'dst so long we did not know Whether thou couldst now die or no. We looked still when thou shouldst arise And ope the casements of thine eyes. 10 Thy feet, which have been used so long To walk, we thought, must still go on. Thine ears, after a hundred year, Might now plead custom for to hear. Upon thy head that reverend snow Did dwell some fifty years ago: And then thy cheeks did seem to have The sad resemblance of a grave. Wert thou e'er young? For truth I hold And do believe thou wert born old. 20 There 's none alive, I'm sure, can say They knew thee young, but always grey. And dost thou now, venerable oak, Decline at Death's unhappy stroke? Tell me, dear son, why didst thou die And leave 's to write an elegy? We're young, alas! and know thee not. Send up old Abram and grave Lot. Let them write thy Epitaph and tell The world thy worth; they kenned thee well. 30 When they were boys, they heard thee preach And thought an angel did them teach. Awake them then: and let them come And score thy virtues on thy tomb, That we at those may wonder more Than at thy many years before.

[An Elegy, &c. This and the following piece are among the disputed poems, but as they occur in 1653 I give them, with warning and asterisked. The D.N.B. allows (with a ?) 104 years (1536?-1640) to Chadderton. As the first Master of the House of pure Emmanuel he might be supposed unlikely to extract a tear from Cleveland. But he had resigned his Mastership nearly twenty years before his death, and that death occurred before the troubles became insanabile vulnus. There is nothing to require special annotation in it, or indeed in either, though in Doctor Chadderton, l. 23, one may safely guess that either 'thou' or 'now' is an intrusion; in l. 25 of the same that 'son' should be 'sir', 'sire', 'saint', &c.; and in l. 29 that 'th' Epitaph' is likelier.]

*Mary's Spikenard.

Shall I presume, Without perfume, My Christ to meet That is all sweet? No! I'll make most pleasant posies, Catch the breath of new-blown roses, Top the pretty merry flowers, Which laugh in the fairest bowers, Whose sweetness Heaven likes so well, It stoops each morn to take a smell. 10 Then I'll fetch from the Ph[oe]nix' nest The richest spices and the best, Precious ointments I will make; Holy Myrrh and aloes take, Yea, costly Spikenard in whose smell The sweetness of all odours dwell. I'll get a box to keep it in, Pure as his alabaster skin: And then to him I'll nimbly fly Before one sickly minute die. 20 This box I'll break, and on his head This precious ointment will I spread, Till ev'ry lock and ev'ry hair For sweetness with his breath compare: But sure the odour of his skin Smells sweeter than the spice I bring. Then with bended knee I'll greet His holy and belovéd feet; I'll wash them with a weeping eye, And then my lips shall kiss them dry; 30 Or for a towel he shall have My hair--such flax as nature gave. But if my wanton locks be bold, And on Thy sacred feet take hold, And curl themselves about, as though They were loath to let thee go, O chide them not, and bid away, For then for grief they will grow grey.

[Mary's Spikenard (1652) of course suggests Crashaw; and yet when one reads it the thought must surely occur, 'How differently Crashaw would have done it!' I do not think either is Cleveland's, though the odd string of unrelated conceits in the Chadderton piece is not unlike him. In the other there is nothing like his usual style; but it is very pretty, and I will not say he could not have done it as an exception. But in that case it is a pity he did not make it a rule.]

To Julia to expedite her Promise.

Since 'tis my doom, Love's undershrieve, Why this reprieve? Why doth my she-advowson fly Incumbency? Panting expectance makes us prove The antics of benighted love, And withered mates when wedlock joins, They're Hymen's monkeys, which he ties by th' loins To play, alas! but at rebated foins.

To sell thyself dost thou intend 10 By candle end, And hold the contract thus in doubt, Life's taper out? Think but how soon the market fails; Your sex lives faster than the males; As if, to measure age's span, The sober Julian were th' account of man, Whilst you live by the fleet Gregorian.

Now since you bear a date so short, Live double for 't. 20 How can thy fortress ever stand If 't be not manned? The siege so gains upon the place Thou'lt find the trenches in thy face. Pity thyself then if not me, And hold not out, lest like Ostend thou be Nothing but rubbish at delivery.

The candidates of Peter's chair Must plead grey hair, And use the simony of a cough 30 To help them off. But when I woo, thus old and spent, I'll wed by will and testament. No, let us love while crisped and curled; The greatest honours, on the agéd hurled, Are but gay furloughs for another world.

To-morrow what thou tenderest me Is legacy. Not one of all those ravenous hours But thee devours. 40 And though thou still recruited be, Like Pelops, with soft ivory, Though thou consume but to renew, Yet Love as lord doth claim a heriot due; That 's the best quick thing I can find of you.

I feel thou art consenting ripe By that soft gripe, And those regealing crystal spheres. I hold thy tears Pledges of more distilling sweets, 50 The bath that ushers in the sheets. Else pious Julia, angel-wise, Moves the Bethesda of her trickling eyes To cure the spital world of maladies.

[To Julia, &c. Johnson singled out the opening verse of this as a special example of 'bringing remote ideas together'.]

[Line: 1 'Shrieve' of course = 'Sheriff'.]

[Lines: 3-4 'advowson' (again of course, but these things get curiously mistaken nowadays) = 'right of presenting to or enjoying a benefice'. 'Incumbency' = 'the actual occupation or enjoyment'. Cf. Square-Cap, ll. 37-8.]

[Line: 9 rebated] The opposite of '_un_bated' in Hamlet--with the button on.]

[Line: 11 Mr. Pepys on November 6, 1660, watched this process (which was specially used in ship-selling) for the first time and with interest. 'candle' 1653: 'candle's' 1677.]

[Lines: 17-18 Not a very happy 'conceiting' of the fact that in a millennium and a half the Julian reckoning had got ten days behindhand.]

[Line: 27 The siege of Ostend (1601-4) lasted three years and seventy-seven days.]

[Line: 34 Did a far greater Cambridge poet think of this in writing

'When the locks are crisp and curl'd?'

(The Vision of Sin.)]

[Line: 48 regealing] Cleveland seems to use this unusual word in the sense of '_un_freezing'.]

[Line: 51 1677 spoils sense and verse alike by beginning the line with 'Than'. The 'tears' are the 'bath'.]

Poems in 1677 but not in 1653.

Upon Princess Elizabeth, born the night before New Year's Day.

Astrologers say Venus, the self-same star, Is both our Hesperus and Lucifer; The antitype, this Venus, makes it true; She shuts the old year and begins the new. Her brother with a star at noon was born; She, like a star both of the eve and morn. Count o'er the stars, fair Queen, in babes, and vie With every year a new Epiphany.

[Upon Princess Elizabeth. Not before 1677. This slight thing is inaccurately entitled, for the Princess was born on December 26, 1638.]

[Line: 1 The rhyme of 'star' and 'Lucif_er_', which occurs (with 'travell_er_') in Dryden, is--like all Cleveland's rhymes, I think without exception--perfectly sound on the general principle then observed, and observed partly at all times, that a vowel may, for rhyming purposes, take the sound that it has in a similar connexion but in another word.]

[Line: 5 brother] Charles II.]

The General Eclipse.

Ladies that gild the glittering noon, And by reflection mend his ray, Whose beauty makes the sprightly sun To dance as upon Easter-day, What are you now the Queen 's away?

Courageous Eagles, who have whet Your eyes upon majestic light, And thence derived such martial heat That still your looks maintain the fight, What are you since the King's good-night? 10

Cavalier-buds, whom Nature teems As a reserve for England's throne, Spirits whose double edge redeems The last Age and adorns your own, What are you now the Prince is gone?

As an obstructed fountain's head Cuts the entail off from the streams, And brooks are disinherited, Honour and Beauty are mere dreams Since Charles and Mary lost their beams! 20 Criminal Valours, who commit Your gallantry, whose paean brings A psalm of mercy after it, In this sad solstice of the King's, Your victory hath mewed her wings!

See, how your soldier wears his cage Of iron like the captive Turk, And as the guerdon of his rage! See, how your glimmering Peers do lurk, Or at the best, work journey-work! 30

Thus 'tis a general eclipse, And the whole world is al-a-mort; Only the House of Commons trips The stage in a triumphant sort. Now e'en John Lilburn take 'em for't!

[The General Eclipse. The poem is of course a sort of variation or scherzo on 'You meaner beauties of the night'.]

[Line: 20 We are so accustomed to the double name 'Henrietta Maria' that the simple 'Queen Mary' may seem strange. But it was the Cavalier word at Naseby.]

[Line: 32 al-a-mort] Formerly quite naturalized, especially in the form all-amort. See N.E.D., s.v. 'Alamort'.]

Upon the King's Return from Scotland.

Returned, I'll ne'er believe 't; first prove him hence; Kings travel by their beams and influence. Who says the soul gives out her gests, or goes A flitting progress 'twixt the head and toes? She rules by omnipresence, and shall we Deny a prince the same ubiquity? Or grant he went, and, 'cause the knot was slack, Girt both the nations with his zodiac, Yet as the tree at once both upward shoots, And just as much grows downward to the roots, 10 So at the same time that he posted thither By counter-stages he rebounded hither. Hither and hence at once; thus every sphere Doth by a double motion interfere; And when his native form inclines him east, By the first mover he is ravished west. Have you not seen how the divided dam Runs to the summons of her hungry lamb; But when the twin cries halves, she quits the first? Nature's commendam must be likewise nursed. 20 So were his journeys like the spider spun Out of his bowels of compassion. Two realms, like Cacus, so his steps transpose, His feet still contradict him as he goes. England 's returned that was a banished soil. The bullet flying makes the gun recoil. Death 's but a separation, though endorsed With spade and javelin; we were thus divorced. Our soul hath taken wing while we express The corpse, returning to our principles. 30 But the Crab-tropic must not now prevail; Islands go back but when you're under sail. So his retreat hath rectified that wrong; Backward is forward in the Hebrew tongue. Now the Church Militant in plenty rests, Nor fears, like th' Amazon, to lose her breasts. Her means are safe; not squeezed until the blood Mix with the milk and choke the tender brood. She, that hath been the floating ark, is that She that 's now seated on Mount Ararat. 40 Quits Charles; our souls did guard him northward thus Now he the counterpart comes south to us.

[Upon the King's Return, &c. In 1641--an ill-omened and unsuccessful journey, which lasted from August to November. The piece is one of the very few of those in Cleaveland Revived acknowledged and admitted by Clievelandi Vindiciae.]

[Line: 3 1659 'ghests'; 1662, 1668 'guests'; 1677 'gests'. See N.E.D., s.v. 'gest' sb.^{4}. which defines it as 'the various stages of a journey, especially of a royal progress; the route followed or planned'.]

[Line: 20 commendam] (misprinted '-dum' from 1659 to 1677). A benefice held with another; something additional.]

[Line: 21: 'spider' 1677; 'spider's' 1659, 1662, 1668.]

[Line: 25 'banished' 1677: 'barren' 1659, 1662, 1668.]

[Line: 30 In this very obscure and ultra-Clevelandian line 1677 reads 'their'. I think 'our'--the reading of Cleaveland Revived, followed by 1662 and 1668--is better. But the whole poem (one of Cleveland's earliest political attempts) is weak and pithless.]

[Line: 33 'that' 1687: 'the' 1659, 1662, 1668.]

[Line: 42 'counterpart' 1677: 'counterpane' 1659, 1662, 1668.]

Poems certainly or almost certainly Cleveland's but not included in 1653 or 1677.

[Poems, &c. I have been exceedingly chary of admission under this head, for there seems to me to be no reasonable via media between such severity and the complete reprinting of 1687--with perhaps the known larcenies in that and its originals left out. Thus, of eleven poems given--but as 'not in 1677'--by Mr. Berdan I have kept but three, besides one or two which, though not in 1677, are in 1653, and so appear above. Of these the Jonson Elegy from Jonsonus Virbius is signed, and as well authenticated as anything can be; News from Newcastle is quoted by Johnson and therefore of importance to students of the Lives. The Elegy upon Charles I is in 1654 among the poems which that collection adds to 1653, is very like him, and relieves Cleveland partly, if not wholly, from the charge of being wanting to the greatest occasion of his life and calling.]

An Elegy on Ben Jonson.

Who first reformed our stage with justest laws, And was the first best judge in his own cause; Who, when his actors trembled for applause, Could (with a noble confidence) prefer His own, by right, to a whole theatre; From principles which he knew could not err:

Who to his fable did his persons fit, With all the properties of art and wit, And above all that could be acted, writ:

Who public follies did to covert drive, 10 Which he again could cunningly retrive, Leaving them no ground to rest on and thrive:

Here JONSON lies, whom, had I named before, In that one word alone I had paid more Than can be now, when plenty makes me poor.

J. CL.

[An Elegy, &c. Although this appears neither in 1653 nor in 1677, it is included, with some corruptions not worth noting, in some editions both before and after the latter. Gifford ascribed to Cleveland another unsigned Elegy in Jonsonus Virbius and one of the Odes to Ben Jonson on his own Ode to himself, 'Come, quit the loathèd stage'. There is no authority for the ascription in either case, and the styles of both pieces are as unlike as possible to Cleveland's.]

[Line: 2 Orig., by a slip, 'your own cause'. Cleveland may have meant to address the poet throughout, or till the last verse; but, if so, he evidently changed his mind.]

News from Newcastle:

Upon the Coal-pits about Newcastle-upon-Tyne.

England 's a perfect world, has Indies too; Correct your maps, Newcastle is Peru! Let th' haughty Spaniard triumph till 'tis told Our sooty min'rals purify his gold. This will sublime and hatch the abortive ore, When the sun tires and stars can do no more. No! mines are current, unrefined, and gross; Coals make the sterling, Nature but the dross. For metals, Bacchus-like, two births approve; Heaven's heat 's the Semele, and ours the Jove. 10 Thus Art doth polish Nature; 'tis her trade: So every madam has her chambermaid. Who'd dote on gold? A thing so strange and odd, 'Tis most contemptible when made a god! All sins and mischiefs thence have rise and swell; One Indies more would make another Hell. Our mines are innocent, nor will the North Tempt poor mortality with too much worth. Th' are not so precious; rich enough to fire A lover, yet make none idolater. 20 The moderate value of our guiltless ore Makes no man atheist, nor no woman whore. Yet why should hallowed Vesta's glowing shrine Deserve more honour than a flaming mine? These pregnant wombs of heat would fitter be, Than a few embers, for a deity. Had he our pits, the Persian would admire No sun, but warm 's devotion at our fire. He'd leave the trotting Whipster, and prefer This profound Vulcan 'bove that Wagoner. 30 For wants he heat, or light? would he have store Of both? 'Tis here. And what can suns give more? Nay, what 's that sun but, in a different name, A coal-pit rampant, or a mine on flame? Then let this truth reciprocally run, The sun 's Heaven's coalery, and coals our sun; A sun that scorches not, locked up i' th' deep; The bandog 's chained, the lion is asleep. That tyrant fire, which uncontrolled doth rage, Here 's calm and hushed, like Bajazet i' th' cage. 40 For in each coal-pit there doth couchant dwell A muzzled Etna, or an innocent Hell. Kindle the cloud, you'll lightning then descry; Then will a day break from the gloomy sky; Then you'll unbutton though December blow, And sweat i' th' midst of icicles and snow; The dog-days then at Christmas. Thus is all The year made June and equinoctial. If heat offend, our pits afford us shade, Thus summer 's winter, winter 's summer made. 50 What need we baths, what need we bower or grove? A coal-pit's both a ventiduct and stove. Such pits and caves were palaces of old; Poor inns, God wot, yet in an age of gold; And what would now be thought a strange design, To build a house was then to undermine. People lived under ground, and happy dwellers Whose jovial habitations were all cellars! These primitive times were innocent, for then Man, who turned after fox, but made his den. 60 But see a fleet of rivals trim and fine, To court the rich infanta of our mine; Hundreds of grim Leanders dare confront, For this loved Hero, the loud Hellespont. 'Tis an armado royal doth engage For some new Helen with this equipage; Prepared too, should we their addresses bar, To force their mistress with a ten years' war, But that our mine 's a common good, a joy Made not to ruin but enrich our Troy. 70 Thus went those gallant heroes of old Greece, The Argonauts, in quest o' th' Golden Fleece. But oh! these bring it with 'em and conspire To pawn that idol for our smoke and fire. Silver 's but ballast; this they bring ashore That they may treasure up our better ore. For this they venter rocks and storms, defy All the extremities of sea and sky. For the glad purchase of this precious mould, Cowards dare pirates, misers part with gold. 80 Hence 'tis that when the doubtful ship sets forth The knowing needle still directs it north, And Nature's secret wonder, to attest Our Indies' worth, discards both east and west. For 'tis not only fire commends this spring, A coal-pit is a mine of everything. We sink a jack-of-all-trades shop, and sound An inversed Burse, an Exchange under ground. This Proteus earth converts to what you'd ha' 't: Now you may weave 't to silk, then coin 't to plate, 90 And, what 's a metamorphosis more dear, Dissolve it and 'twill melt to London beer. For whatsoe'er that gaudy city boasts, Each month derives to these attractive coasts. We shall exhaust their chamber and devour Their treasures of Guildhall, the Mint, the Tower. Our staiths their mortgaged streets will soon divide, Blathon owe Cornhill, Stella share Cheapside. Thus will our coal-pits' charity and pity At distance undermine and fire the City. 100 Should we exact, they'd pawn their wives and treat To swap those coolers for our sovereign heat. 'Bove kisses and embraces fire controls; No Venus heightens like a peck of coals. Medea was the drudge of some old sire And Aeson's bath a lusty sea-coal fire. Chimneys are old men's mistresses, their inns, A modern dalliance with their measled shins. To all defects the coal-heap brings a cure, Gives life to age and raiment to the poor. 110 Pride first wore clothes; Nature disdains attire; She made us naked 'cause she gave us fire. Full wharfs are wardrobes, and the tailor's charm Belongs to th' collier; he must keep us warm. The quilted alderman with all 's array Finds but cold comfort on a frosty day; Girt, wrapped, and muffled, yet with all that stir Scarce warm when smoth'red in his drowsy fur; Not proof against keen Winter's batteries Should he himself wear all 's own liveries, 120 But chilblains under silver spurs bewails And in embroid'red buckskins blows his nails. Rich meadows and full crops are elsewhere found: We can reap harvest from our barren ground. The bald parched hills that circumscribe our Tyne Are no less fruitful in their hungry mine. Their unfledged tops so well content our palates, We envy none their nosegays and their sallets. A gay rank soil like a young gallant grows And spends itself that it may wear fine clothes, 130 Whilst all its worth is to its back confined. Our wear 's plain outside, but is richly lined; Winter 's above, 'tis summer underneath, A trusty morglay in a rusty sheath. As precious sables sometimes interlace A wretched serge or grogram cassock case. Rocks own no spring, are pregnant with no showers, Crystals and gems grow there instead of flowers; Instead of roses, beds of rubies sweat And emeralds recompense the violet. 140 Dame Nature not, like other madams, wears, Where she is bare, pearls on her breasts or ears. What though our fields present a naked sight? A paradise should be an adamite. The northern lad his bonny lass throws down And gives her a black bag for a green gown.

[News from Newcastle, if not Cleveland's, is infinitely more of a Clevelandism than any other attributed piece, either in the untrustworthy (or rather upside-down-trustworthy) Cleaveland Revived or elsewhere. It first appeared as a quarto pamphlet, 'London. Printed in the year 1651. By William Ellis', and with a headline to the poem 'Upon the Coalpits about Newcastle-upon-Tyne'. This quarto furnishes the only sound text. It was reprinted very corruptly in Cleaveland Revived, 1660, and thence in the editions of 1662, 1668, 1687, and later. A collation of 1660 is given. Title in 1660 'News from Newcastle, Or, Newcastle Coal-pits'. MS. Rawlinson Poet, 65 of the Bodleian has a version agreeing in the main with 1660.]

[Line: 1 has] hath 1660, MS.]

[Line: 5 'obortive' 1668.]

[Line: 7 1651, later texts, and MS. 'No mines', which has no meaning without a stop or interjection.]

[Line: 8 'nature's' MS.]

[Line: 10 'Heaven heats' 1660. The mine is the womb of Semele warmed by the sun: the furnace the thigh of Jove heated by coal.]

[Line: 11 her] the 1660: its MS.]

[Line: 12 has] hath 1660, MS.]

[Line: 15 'sin and mischief hence' 1660: 'sin and mischief thence' MS.]

[Line: 16 Indies] India 1660.]

[Line: 17 mines] times MS.]

[Line: 19 1660 'so': 1651 'too', unconsciously repeating the 'too much' of l. 18.]

[Line: 20 none] no MS.]

[Line: 22 Simply an adaptation of the earlier conclusion--

'Should make men atheists and not women whores'. ]

[Line: 23 Vesta's glowing] Vestals' sacred 1660. shrine] shine MS.]

[Line: 29 trotting Whipster] Phoebus, of course.]

[Line: 30 This] Our 1660, MS.]

[Line: 31 light? would he] light, or would 1660. store] Misprinted 'more' in 1651.]

[Line: 32 suns] Sun MS.]

[Line: 33 that] the 1660.]

[Line: 34 on flame] or flame 1660.]

[Line: 36 coalery] Original and pleasing. 'Collier' is used below.]

[Line: 37 scorches] scorcheth 1660, MS.]

[Line: 38 bandog's] lion's 1660. lion] bandog 1660.]

[Line: 42 or] and MS.]

[Line: 43 the] this MS.]

[Line: 45 'Un_bottom_,' by evident error, in 1668.]

[Line: 47 Thus] Then MS.]

[Line: 49 'offends' 1660. 'affords' 1660.]

[Line: 60 but made] made but 1660, MS.]

[Line: 61 rivals] vitals 1660.]

[Line: 63 dare] do 1660.]

[Line: 68 their] this 1660, MS.]

[Lines: 71-2 Omitted in 1660 and all later texts. 1651 misprints 'Argeuauts'.]

[Line: 73 'em] them 1660, MS.]

[Line: 75 ashore] on shore 1660, MS.]

[Line: 76 better] richer MS.]

[Line: 78 extremities] extremity 1660.]

[Line: 81 'tis that] is it 1660, MS.]

[Line: 82 knowing] naving 1660: knavish MS.]

[Line: 83 wonder] wonders 1660.]

[Line: 84 both] with MS.]

[Line: 85 For 'tis not] For Tyne. Not 1660 (without the period at l. 84), MS.]

[Line: 86 of] for 1660.]

[Line: 87 1651 mispunctuates with a comma at 'sink'; 1660 adds comma at 'jack-of-all-trades' and 'sound': MS. punctuates correctly.]

[Line: 88 inversed] inverse 1660.]

[Line: 89 you'd] you'l 1660.]

[Line: 90 weave 't] wear't 1660. then] now 1660. coin 't] com't 1660.]

[Line: 91 And] Or MS.]

[Line: 92 melt] turn 1660, MS.]

[Line: 93 boasts] boast 1660.]

[Line: 94 derives] doth drive 1660, MS. these] our 1660, MS. coasts] coast 1660.]

[Line: 96 treasures] treasure 1660, MS. the Mint, the] and mint o' th' 1660, MS.]

[Line: 97 staiths] Wooden erections projecting into the river, which were used to store the coal and fitted with spouts for shooting it into the ships. divide] deride 1660.]

[Line: 98 'Blathon their Cornhill, Stella' MS: 'Blazon their Cornhill-stella,' 1660.] Blathon, now Blaydon, the mining district. 'owe' = own. 'Stella' Hall, near Blaydon, was a nunnery before the Dissolution, when it passed into the hands of the Tempests. (Mr. Nichol Smith kindly supplied this information.)]

[Line: 102 swap] swop 1660.]

[Line: 105 drudge] drugge 1660, MS.]

[Line: 109 the] a 1659. brings] gives 1660, MS.]

[Line: 110 life] youth 1660.]

[Line: 113 tailor's] sailor's MS.]

[Line: 115 with] in 1660.]

[Line: 116 on] in 1660, MS.]

[Line: 117 that] this 1660.]

[Line: 119 Not] Nor'st MS. 'proof enough' 1651: 'enough' is omitted in 1660, and deleted by a seventeenth-century corrector in the Bodleian copy of 1651.]

[Line: 121 chilblains] chilblain 1660.]

[Line: 126 fruitful] pregnant 1660.]

[Line: 128 and] or MS.]

[Line: 134 Cleveland has used 'morglay', Bevis's sword, as a common noun elsewhere; but of course an imitator might seize on this.]

[Line: 138 grow] are 1660.]

[Line: 139 sweat] sweet 1668, 1687, MS.]

[Line: 142 on] in 1660. or] and 1660. 'breasts, not ears' MS.]

[Lines: 145-6 Or as a modern Newcastle song, more decently but less picturesquely, puts it in the lass's own mouth--

'He sits in his hole, As black as a coal, And brings the white money to me--O!' ]

An Elegy upon King Charles the First, murdered publicly by his Subjects.

Were not my faith buoyed up by sacred blood, It might be drowned in this prodigious flood; Which reason's highest ground doth so exceed, It leaves my soul no anch'rage but my creed; Where my faith, resting on th' original, Supports itself in this, the copy's fall. So while my faith floats on that bloody wood, My reason 's cast away in this red flood Which near o'erflows us all. Those showers past Made but land-floods, which did some valleys waste. 10 This stroke hath cut the only neck of land Which between us and this red sea did stand, That covers now our world which curséd lies At once with two of Egypt's prodigies (O'ercast with darkness and with blood o'errun), And justly since our hearts have theirs outdone. Th' enchanter led them to a less known ill To act his sin, than 'twas their king to kill; Which crime hath widowed our whole nation, Voided all forms, left but privation 20 In Church and State; inverting every right; Brought in Hell's state of fire without light. No wonder then if all good eyes look red, Washing their loyal hearts from blood so shed; The which deserves each pore should turn an eye To weep out even a bloody agony. Let nought then pass for music but sad cries, For beauty bloodless cheeks and blood-shot eyes. All colours soil but black; all odours have Ill scent but myrrh, incens'd upon this grave. 30 It notes a Jew not to believe us much The cleaner made by a religious touch Of this dead body, whom to judge to die Seems the Judaical impiety. To kill the King, the Spirit Legion paints His rage with law, the Temple and the saints. But the truth is, he feared and did repine To be cast out and back into the swine. And the case holds, in that the Spirit bends His malice in this act against his ends; 40 For it is like the sooner he'll be sent Out of that body he would still torment. Let Christians then use otherwise this blood; Detest the act, yet turn it to their good; Thinking how like a King of Death he dies We easily may the world and death despise. Death had no sting for him and its sharp arm, Only of all the troop, meant him no harm. And so he looked upon the axe as one Weapon yet left to guard him to his throne. 50 In his great name then may his subjects cry, 'Death, thou art swallowed up in victory.' If this, our loss, a comfort can admit, 'Tis that his narrowed crown is grown unfit For his enlargéd head, since his distress Had greatened this, as it made that the less. His crown was fallen unto too low a thing For him who was become so great a king. So the same hands enthroned him in that crown They had exalted from him, not pulled down. 60 And thus God's truth by them hath rendered more Than e'er man's falsehood promised to restore; Which, since by death alone he could attain, Was yet exempt from weakness and from pain. Death was enjoined by God to touch a part, Might make his passage quick, ne'er move his heart, Which even expiring was so far from death It seemed but to command away his breath. And thus his soul, of this her triumph proud, Broke like a flash of lightning through the cloud 70 Of flesh and blood; and from the highest line Of human virtue, passed to be divine. Nor is 't much less his virtues to relate Than the high glories of his present state. Since both, then, pass all acts but of belief, Silence may praise the one, the other grief. And since upon the diamond no less Than diamonds will serve us to impress, I'll only wish that for his elegy This our Josias had a Jeremy. 80

[An Elegy, &c. See above. First printed in Monumentum Regale, 1649, p. 49; then in the 1654 edition of Cleveland.]

[Line: 3 1654, 1657, 1669 'doth'. Other (it is true inferior) texts, such as 1659, 1665, and the successors of 1677, 'do': which any one who has ever read his Pepys must know to be possible in the singular.]

[Line: 33 'this' 1649: 'their' 1653 and later editions.]

[Line: 35 paints = 'tries to disguise'.]

[Since these sheets were last revised, and when they were ready for press, Mr. Simpson discovered and communicated to me some variants (from Bodley MSS.) of Cleveland's pieces on Chadderton (v. sup. p. 81) and Williams (p. 69). His note is as follows:

"There is a version of the Elegy upon Doctor Chadderton (page 81) in Ashmole MS. 36-7, fol. 263. After l. 14 four lines are inserted:

We thought, for so we would it have, Thou hadst outlived death and the grave, Hadst been past dying, and by thine own Brave virtue been immortal grown.

Not very brilliant, but no one would have any motive for interpolating such lines. Further, ll. 17-18 are omitted.

25 'dear S^{nt}.' i.e. as conjectured in the note, 'Saint.'

30 'Kend' written in a larger hand, with a view to emphasis. Query, a favourite word of Chadderton?

In the same MS. is a version of the poem on Archbishop Williams (p. 69). Most readings are bad, but the following are noteworthy:

4 concorporate one.

11 And vindicate whate'er.

55 when happier ages (which of late The viper cherish'd) with unpartial fate." ]

* * *

* * * * *

POEMS

AND

TRANSLATIONS.

THOMAS STANLEY Esquire.

_Quæ mea culpa tamen, nisi si lusisse vocari Culpa potest: nisi culpa potest & amasse, vocari?_

Tout vient a poinct qui peut attendre.

Printed for the Author, and his Friends, 1647.

POEMS,

THOMAS STANLEY ESQUIRE.

_Quæ mea culpa tamen, nisi si lusisse vocari Culpa potest: nisi culpa potest & amasse, vocari?_

Printed in the Year,

1651.

INTRODUCTION TO THOMAS STANLEY

Thomas Stanley, poet, scholar, translator, and historian of philosophy, occupies a position in literary history, and in the general knowledge of fairly instructed people, which is less unenviable than that of Cleveland, almost equally curious, but more distinctly accidental. In a way--in more ways than one--he cannot be said to be exactly unknown. Everybody who has received the once usual 'liberal education', if not directly acquainted with his work on classical literature, has seen his History of Philosophy referred to in later histories; and his notes on Aeschylus quoted, and sometimes fought over, in later editions. His translations have attained a place in that private-adventure Valhalla of English translations--Bohn's Library. A few at least of his poems are in all or most of the anthologies. Not many writers have such an anchor with four flukes, lodged in the general memory, as this. And yet there are probably few people who have any very distinct knowledge or idea of his work as a whole; his Poems (until a time subsequent to the original promise of them in this Collection) had never been issued since his own day save in one of the few-copied reprints of the indefatigable Sir Egerton Brydges; and he makes small figure in most literary histories.

The reasons of this, however, are not very far to seek. For a very considerable time during the later seventeenth and the whole of the eighteenth century, if not later, Stanley was a recognized authority on history and scholarship: but during this time a philosopher and a scholar would have been usually thought to derogate, strangely and not quite pardonably, by writing and translating love poetry in a style of 'false wit' the most contrary to the precepts of Mr. Addison. We cannot even be sure that Stanley himself would not have been short-sighted enough to feel a certain shame at his harmless fredaines in verse, for he certainly never published or fully collected them at all after he was six and twenty, though he lived to double that age. He seems, moreover, though most forward to help other men of letters, to have been in all other ways a decidedly retiring person--a man of books rather than of affairs. Though an unquestioned Royalist, and not accused of any dishonourable compliance, he seems to have been quite undisturbed during the Civil War, no doubt because of his observation of the precept [Greek: lathe biôsas]. In short, he took no trouble to keep himself before any public except the public of letters, and the public of letters chose to keep him only in his capacity as scholar.

If, however, he put himself not forward it was not for want of means and opportunity to do so. After some mistakes about his genealogy, it has been made certain that he was descended, though with the bend sinister, from the great house that bears the same name, and through a branch which enriched itself by commerce and settled in Hertfordshire and Essex. His mother was a Hammond of the family which has been referred to in dealing with his uncle the poet (vol. ii), and he was also connected with Sandys, Lovelace, and Sherburne, all of whom were his intimate friends, as were John Hall and Shirley the dramatist. He seems always to have been a man of means: and used them liberally, though less thoughtlessly than Benlowes, in assisting brother men of letters. He is not said to have been at any of the great schools, but his private tutor William Fairfax (son of Edward of Tasso fame) appears to have grounded him thoroughly in scholarship. At thirteen he went to Pembroke College (then Hall), Cambridge, entering in June 1639 and matriculating in December. He is said to have entered at Oxford next year. He was co-opted at Cambridge in 1642 as (apparently) a gentleman pensioner or commoner. He married early, his wife's name being Dorothy Enyon, and they had several children, of whom four survived him when he died, in 1678, at Suffolk Street, St. Martin's-in-the-Fields.

There is a tendency--which is perhaps rather slightly unfair than positively unjust--to suspect a poet who is specially given to translation: and not exactly to discard the suspicion in the ratio of his excellence as a translator. The reason behind this is sufficient, as has been said, to free it from the charge of positive injustice as a general rule, for it may be plausibly contended that a true poet, with nature and his own soul to draw upon, will not experience any great necessity to go to some one else for matter. But these general rules are always dangerous in particular application, and therefore it has been said that the notion is not quite fair. In fact, if it is examined as it does apply to individuals, it becomes clear that it will not do as a general rule at all--that like some other general rules it is practically useless. That Chaucer was grant translateur may be said to be neither here nor there in the circumstances. But Spenser did not disdain translation; Dryden evidently did it for love as well as for money, though the latter may have been its chief attraction for Pope; and a poet such as Shelley, who was very nearly the poet, by no means despised it.

When, however, we come to examine Stanley's work we may perhaps discover something in the very excellence of his translations which connects itself usefully with his original poems. These translations are excellent because he has almost unerringly selected writers who are suitable to the poetical style of his own day, and has transposed them into English verse of that style. But in his original poems there is perhaps a little too much suggestion of something not wholly dissimilar. They are (pretty as they almost always are, and beautiful as they sometimes are) a little devoid of the spontaneity and élan which distinguish the best things of the time from Carew and Crashaw down to Kynaston and John Hall. There is a very little of the exercise about them. Moreover, not quite as a necessary consequence of this, there is a want of decided character. Stanley is much more a typical minor Caroline poet than he is Stanley, and so much must needs be said critically in these volumes on the type that it seems unnecessary to repeat it on an individual who gives that type with little idiosyncrasy, even while giving it in some abundance and with real charm. Only let it be added that we could not have a better foil to Cleveland, who, though unpolished, is always 'Manly, Sir, manly!' than this scholarly and graceful but somewhat epicene poet.

There are, however, some peculiarities about his work which made me slow to make up my mind about the fashion of presenting it. His translations are numerous: but this collection was not originally intended to include translations unless they were inextricably connected with issues of original work, or where, as in Godolphin's case, there was a special reason. Further, the translations, which are from a large number of authors, ancient and modern, sometimes include prose as well as verse. Thirdly, even the original poems were cross-issued in widely different arrangements. In short, the thing was rather a muddle, and though no one has occupied me in my various visits to the British Museum and the Bodleian during the past ten or twelve years oftener than Stanley, I postponed him from volume to volume. At last, and very recently a feasible plan suggested itself--to give the edition of 1651 as Brydges had done, this being after all the only one which at once represents revision and definite literary purpose, and to let the translations in this represent--as the poet seems himself to have selected them to do--his translating habits and studies. Before these I have printed the original poems of the first or 1647 edition, and after them the few which he seems to have allowed to be added to the set versions in Gamble's Airs and Dialogues ten years later. I think this will put Stanley on a fair level with the rest of our flock. Those who want his classical translations from Anacreon, Ausonius, the Idylls, and the Pervigilium, as well as from Johannes Secundus, will not have much difficulty in finding them; and I did not see my way to load this volume with Preti's Oronta, Montalvan's Aurora, &c. The bibliography of these things is rather complicated, and I do not pretend to have followed it out exhaustively. In fact this is certainly the case as far as my own collations of 1647, made at the British Museum, and those furnished me from the Bodleian copy are concerned.[1] But the differences are rarely of importance. 1647, a private issue, was reprinted in 1650 and 1651: while Gamble's Airs and Dialogues appeared in 1656 and was reissued with a fresh title-page in 1657. In the latter year Stanley furnished another composer--John Wilson, Professor of Music at Oxford--with the letterpress of Psalterium Carolinum, the King's devotions from the Eikon versified. His History of Philosophy appeared in 1655: his Aeschylus in 1663.

Some years ago (London, 1893) a beautiful illustrated edition of his Anacreon appeared, and more recently--but, as I have noted, after the announcement of this collection--a carefully arranged and collated edition of the original Lyrics with a few selected translations (Tutin, Hull, 1907), edited by Miss L. Imogen Guiney. I have not found Miss Guiney's work useless, and if I have occasionally had to question her emendations that is only a matter of course.

[Footnote 1: I am informed by three subsequent collators more experienced in such work than myself--Mr. Percy Simpson, Mr. Thorn-Drury, and a Clarendon Press reader--that they have not found some differences which my own comparison-notes of some years ago seemed to show between the British Museum and the Bodleian copies of 1647. No doubt they are right. Some of the dates given above have also been corrected by them.]

CONTENTS

PAGE

THOMAS STANLEY 95 Introduction 97

POEMS NOT PRINTED AFTER 1647 101 Despair 101 The Picture 101 Opinion 101

POEMS PRINTED IN 1647 AND REPRINTED IN 1656 BUT NOT IN 1651 102 The Dream 102 To Chariessa, beholding herself in a Glass 102 The Blush 103 The Cold Kiss 103 The Idolater 104 The Magnet 104 On a Violet in her Breast 105 Song: 'Foolish lover, go and seek' 105 The Parting 106 Counsel 106 Expostulation with Love in Despair 107 Song: 'Faith, 'tis not worth thy pains and care' 108 Expectation 108

1651 POEMS 109 The Dedication: To Love 109 The Glow-worm 110 The Breath 111 Desiring her to burn his Verses 111 The Night 112 Excuse for wishing her less Fair 113 Chang'd, yet Constant 113 The Self-deceiver (Montalvan) 115 The Cure 115 Celia Singing 117 A la Mesme 117 The Return 118 Song: 'When I lie burning in thine eye' 119 The Sick Lover (Guarini) 119 Song: 'Celinda, by what potent art' 120 Song: 'Fool, take up thy shaft again' 120 Delay 121 Commanded by his Mistress to woo for her (Marina) 121 The Repulse 122 The Tomb 123 The Enjoyment (St.-Amant) 124 To Celia Pleading Want of Merit 126 The Bracelet (Tristan) 127 The Kiss 128 Apollo and Daphne (Garcilasso Marino) 128 Speaking and Kissing 129 The Snow-ball 129 The Deposition 130 To his Mistress in Absence (Tasso) 130 Love's Heretic 130 La Belle Confidente 132 La Belle Ennemie 132 The Dream (Lope de Vega) 133 To the Lady D. 133 Love Deposed 134 The Divorce 134 Time Recovered (Casone) 135 The Bracelet 135 The Farewell 136 Claim to Love (Guarini) 137 To his Mistress, who dreamed he was wounded (Guarini) 137 The Exchange 138 Unaltered by Sickness 138 On his Mistress's Death (Petrarch) 139 The Exequies 139 The Silkworm 140 A Lady Weeping (Montalvan) 140 Ambition 141 Song: 'When, dearest beauty, thou shall pay' 141 The Revenge 142 Song: 'I will not trust thy tempting graces' 142 Song: 'No, I will sooner trust the wind' 143 To a Blind Man in Love (Marino) 143 Answer 143 Song: 'I prithee let my heart alone' 144 The Loss 144 The Self-Cruel 145 Song (by M. W. M.): 'Wert thou yet fairer than thou art' 145 Answer 146 The Relapse 146 To the Countess of S. with the Holy Court 147 Song (De Voiture): 'I languish in a silent flame' 147 Drawn for Valentine by the L. D. S. 148 The Modest Wish (Barclay) 148 E Catalectis Veterum Poetarum 149 On the Edition of Mr. Fletcher's Works 149 To Mr. W. Hammond 150 On Mr. Shirley's Poems 151 On Mr. Sherburn's Translation of Seneca's Medea, and Vindication of the Author 152 On Mr. Hall's Essays 153 On Sir John Suckling his Picture and Poems 154 The Union (by Mr. William Fairfax) 154 The Answer 154 Pythagoras his Moral Rules 155

POEMS APPEARING ONLY IN THE EDITION OF 1656 159 'On this swelling bank, once proud' 159 'Dear, fold me once more in thine arms!' 160 'The lazy hours move slow' 160

POEMS NOT PRINTED AFTER 1647

Despair.

No, no, poor blasted Hope! Since I (with thee) have lost the scope Of all my joys, I will no more Vainly implore The unrelenting Destinies: He that can equally sustain The strong assaults of joy or pain, May safely laugh at their decrees.

Despair, to thee I bow, Whose constancy disdains t' allow 10 Those childish passions that destroy Our fickle joy; How cruel Fates so e'er appear, Their harmless anger I despise, And fix'd, can neither fall nor rise, Thrown below hope, but rais'd 'bove fear.

[Despair.] Note here the skill and success of the use of the short--almost 'bob'--lines, and the In Memoriam arrangement of rhyme in the last half of each stanza.]

The Picture.

Thou that both feel'st and dost admire The flames shot from a painted fire, Know Celia's image thou dost see: Not to herself more like is she. He that should both together view Would judge both pictures, or both true. But thus they differ: the best part Of Nature this is; that of Art.

[The Picture.] The conceit wraps up the point of the epigram.]

Opinion.

Whence took the diamond worth? the borrow'd rays That crystal wears, whence had they first their praise? Why should rude feet contemn the snow's chaste white, Which from the sun receives a sparkling light, Brighter than diamonds far, and by its birth Decks the green garment of the richer earth? Rivers than crystal clearer, when to ice Congeal'd, why do weak judgements so despise? Which, melting, show that to impartial sight Weeping than smiling crystal is more bright. 10 But Fancy those first priz'd, and these did scorn, Taking their praise the other to adorn. Thus blind is human sight: opinion gave To their esteem a birth, to theirs a grave; Nor can our judgements with these clouds dispense, Since reason sees but with the eyes of sense.

[Opinion.] As in The Dream, distinctly nervous stopped couplet.]

POEMS PRINTED IN 1647 AND REPRINTED IN 1656 BUT NOT IN 1651

The Dream.

That I might ever dream thus! that some power To my eternal sleep would join this hour! So, willingly deceiv'd, I might possess In seeming joys a real happiness. Haste not away: oh do not dissipate A pleasure thou so lately didst create! Stay, welcome Sleep; be ever here confin'd; Or if thou wilt away, leave her behind.

[The Dream.] Closed couplets, already of considerable accomplishment. Reprinted in 1656 in an enlarged form; after ll. 1-4 the poem continued:--

Death, I would gladly bow beneath thy charms, If thou couldst bring my Doris to my arms, That thus at last made happy I might prove In life the hell, in death the heaven of love. Haste not away so soon, mock not my joy, With the delusive sight or empty noise Of happiness; oh do not dissipate A pleasure thou so lately didst create! Shadows of life or death do such bliss give, That 'tis an equal curse to wake or live. Stay then, kind Sleep; be ever here confin'd; Or if thou wilt away, leave her behind. ]

To Chariessa, beholding herself in a Glass.

Cast, Chariessa, cast that glass away, Nor in its crystal face thine own survey. What can be free from Love's imperious laws When painted shadows real flames can cause? The fires may burn thee from this mirror rise By the reflected beams of thine own eyes; And thus at last, fallen with thyself in love, Thou wilt my rival, thine own martyr prove. But if thou dost desire thy form to view, Look in my heart where Love thy picture drew; 10 And then, if pleased with thine own shape thou be, Learn how to love thyself in loving me.

[To Chariessa &c.] ]

[Line: 12 1656 'by loving'.]

The Blush.

So fair Aurora doth herself discover (Asham'd o' th' aged bed of her cold lover) In modest blushes, whilst the treacherous light Betrays her early shame to the world's sight. Such a bright colour doth the morning rose Diffuse, when she her soft self doth disclose Half drown'd in dew, whilst on each leaf a tear Of night doth like a dissolv'd pearl appear; Yet 'twere in vain a colour out to seek To parallel my Chariessa's cheek; 10 Less are conferr'd with greater, and these seem To blush like her, not she to blush like them. But whence, fair soul, this passion? what pretence Had guilt to stain thy spotless innocence? Those only this feel who have guilty been, Not any blushes know, but who know sin. Then blush no more; but let thy chaster flame, That knows no cause, know no effects of shame.

[The Blush.] Interesting to compare prosodically with The Dream and Opinion. A much older fashion of couplet, here and there overlapped and breathless, but pointing towards the newer. In l. 11 Miss Guiney has unfortunately altered 'conferr'd' (confero = 'to set side by side') to 'compar'd'. In l. 15, 1647 has the common 'bin' and l. 16 'knows' for the second 'know'.]

The Cold Kiss.

Such icy kisses, anchorites that live Secluded from the world, to dead skulls give; And those cold maids on whom Love never spent His flame, nor know what by desire is meant, To their expiring fathers such bequeath, Snatching their fleeting spirits in that breath: The timorous priest doth with such fear and nice Devotion touch the Holy Sacrifice.

Fie, Chariessa! whence so chang'd of late, As to become in love a reprobate? 10 Quit, quit this dullness, Fairest, and make known A flame unto me equal with mine own. Shake off this frost, for shame, that dwells upon Thy lips; or if it will not so be gone, Let 's once more join our lips, and thou shalt see That by the flame of mine 'twill melted be.

[The Cold Kiss.] There are some very trifling alterations, all for the worse, in 1656 (Gamble).]

The Idolater.

Think not, pale lover, he who dies, Burnt in the flames of Celia's eyes, Is unto Love a sacrifice;

Or, by the merit of this pain, Thou shalt the crown of martyrs gain! Those hopes are, as thy passion, vain.

For when, by death, from these flames free, To greater thou condemn'd shalt be, And punish'd for idolatry,

Since thou (Love's votary before 10 Whilst He was kind) dost him no more, But, in his shrine, Disdain adore.

Nor will this fire (the gods prepare To punish scorn) that cruel Fair, (Though now from flames exempted) spare;

But as together both shall die, Both burnt alike in flames shall lie, She in thy breast, thou in her eye.

[The Idolater.] ]

[Line: 11 'He' altered in 1656 to 'she', which Miss Guiney adopts. But of course 'He' is Love.]

[Line: 18 breast 1647: later, much worse, 'heart'.]

The Magnet.

Ask the empress of the night How the Hand which guides her sphere, Constant in unconstant light, Taught the waves her yoke to bear, And did thus by loving force Curb or tame the rude sea's course.

Ask the female palm how she First did woo her husband's love; And the magnet, ask how he Doth th' obsequious iron move; 10 Waters, plants, and stones know this: That they love; not what Love is. Be not then less kind than these, Or from Love exempt alone! Let us twine like amorous trees, And like rivers melt in one. Or, if thou more cruel prove, Learn of steel and stones to love.

[The Magnet.] ]

[Line: 9 'he' 1647, altered to 'she' in 1656. One would expect 'he' to avoid identical rhyme, but Stanley was a scholar and the Greek is [Greek: hê Magnêtis lithos], and the other things to be 'asked' are feminine.]

[In l. 13 'then' became 'thou', neither for better nor for worse.]

On a Violet in her Breast.

See how this violet, which before Hung sullenly her drooping head, As angry at the ground that bore The purple treasure which she spread, Doth smilingly erected grow, Transplanted to those hills of snow.

And whilst the pillows of thy breast Do her reclining head sustain, She swells with pride to be so blest, And doth all other flowers disdain; 10 Yet weeps that dew which kissed her last, To see her odours so surpass'd.

Poor flower! how far deceiv'd thou wert, To think the riches of the morn, Or all the sweets she can impart, Could these or sweeten or adorn, Since thou from them dost borrow scent, And they to thee lend ornament!

[On a Violet in her Breast.]

[Line: 6 'hills of snow' is probably as old as the Garden of Eden (if there was snow there). But Stanley must have known the exquisite second verse of 'Take, oh take those lips away' in The Bloody Brother. I would ask any one who despises this as a mere commonplace love-poem to note--if he can--the splendid swell of the verse to the fourth line, and then the 'turn' of the final couplet. With Stanley and his generation that swell and turn passed--never to reappear till William Blake revived it nearly a century and a half afterwards.]

Song.

Foolish Lover, go and seek For the damask of the rose, And the lilies white dispose To adorn thy mistress' cheek;

Steal some star out of the sky, Rob the phoenix, and the east Of her wealthy sweets divest, To enrich her breath or eye!

We thy borrow'd pride despise: For this wine, to which we are 10 Votaries, is richer far Than her cheek, or breath, or eyes.

And should that coy fair one view These diviner beauties, she In this flame would rival thee, And be taught to love thee too.

Come, then, break thy wanton chain, That when this brisk wine hath spread On thy paler cheek a red, Thou, like us, mayst Love disdain. 20

Love, thy power must yield to wine! And whilst thus ourselves we arm, Boldly we defy thy charm: For these flames extinguish thine.

[Song.] A Donne-inspired one, doubtless, but not ill justified. 'Distinguish' in the last line is one of the numerous misprints of 1656.]

The Parting.

I go, dear Saint, away, Snatch'd from thy arms By far less pleasing charms, Than those I did obey; But when hereafter thou shall know That grief hath slain me, come, And on my tomb Drop, drop a tear or two; Break with thy sighs the silence of my sleep, And I shall smile in death to see thee weep. 10

Thy tears may have the power To reinspire My ashes with new fire, Or change me to some flower, Which, planted 'twixt thy breasts, shall grow: Veil'd in this shape, I will Dwell with thee still, Court, kiss, enjoy thee too: Securely we'll contemn all envious force, And thus united be by death's divorce. 20

[The Parting.] ]

[Line: 19 contemn 1647: contain 1656.]

Counsel.

When deceitful lovers lay At thy feet their suppliant hearts, And their snares spread to betray Thy best treasure with their arts, Credit not their flatt'ring vows: Love such perjury allows.

When they with the choicest wealth Nature boasts of, have possess'd thee; When with flowers (their verses' stealth), Stars, or jewels they invest thee, 10 Trust not to their borrow'd store: 'Tis but lent to make thee poor.

When with poems they invade thee, Sing thy praises or disdain; When they weep, and would persuade thee That their flames beget that rain; Let thy breast no baits let in: Mercy 's only here a sin!

Let no tears or offerings move thee, All those cunning charms avoid; 20 For that wealth for which they love thee, They would slight if once enjoy'd. Who would keep another's heart With her own must never part.

[Counsel.]

[Line: 7 'the' altered in 1656 to 'their', which is clearly wrong. But the untrustworthiness of Gamble's text is still better illustrated by l. 10, which he twists into--

Stars to jewels they _di_vest thee.

The copy was probably dictated to a very careless, ignorant, or stupid workman.]

[Lines: 23-4. This pointed if cynical conclusion was changed in 1657 to the much feebler

Guard thy unrelenting mind; None are cruel but the kind. ]

Expostulation with Love in Despair.

Love, with what strange tyrannic laws must they Comply, which are subjected to thy sway! How far all justice thy commands decline, Which though they hope forbid, yet love enjoin! Must all are to thy hell condemn'd sustain A double torture of despair and pain? Is 't not enough vainly to hope and woo, That thou shouldst thus deny that vain hope too? It were some joy, Ixion-like, to fold The empty air, or feed on hopes as cold; 10 But if thou to my passion this deny, Thou mayst be starv'd to death as well as I; For how can thy pale sickly flame burn clear When death and cold despair inhabit near? Rule in my breast alone, or thence retire; Dissolve this frost, or let that quench thy fire. Or let me not desire, or else possess! Neither, or both, are equal happiness.

[Expostulation, &c.] The texts of 1647 and 1656 differ considerably here, and Miss Guiney has attempted a 'composite text'--a thing for which I have small fancy. That given above is from 1647: 1656 runs as follows in the first quatrain:

Love, what tyrannic laws must they obey Who bow beneath thy uncontrolled sway; Or how unjust will that harsh empire prove Forbids to hope, and yet commands to love.

and reads in l. 9 'hope' for 'joy'; l. 10 'thought that's cold'; l. 14 'old' and 'here' for 'cold' and 'near'; l. 15 (entirely different)

Then let thy dim heat warm, or else expire.

l. 16 'the' for 'thy'; and in the closing distich 'Thus let me not' and 'Either or both'. The interest of this piece is almost wholly centred on the penultimate line, which, being an evident and intended contradiction to

Amare liceat si potiri non licet,

gives us at once the connexion, in Stanley's mind, with that strange, Mrs. Grundy-shocking, but 'insolent and passionate' piece which is attributed, credibly enough, to Apuleius, but rather less credibly as a latinizing of Menander's [Greek: Anechomenos]. The contrast of the sensuous fire of this with Stanley's rather vapid and languid metaphysicalities is a notable one.]

Song.

Faith, 'tis not worth thy pains and care To seek t' ensnare A heart so poor as mine: Some fools there be Hate liberty, Whom with more ease thou mayst confine.

Alas! when with much charge thou hast Brought it at last Beneath thy power to bow, It will adore 10 Some twenty more, And that, perhaps, you'll not allow.

No, Chloris, I no more will prove The curse of love, And now can boast a heart Hath learn'd of thee Inconstancy, And cozen'd women of their art.

[Song.]

[Lines: 2, 3. The quality and value of 1656 are again well illustrated by its readings of 'inspire' for 'ensnare' and 'pure' for 'poor'.]

Expectation.

Chide, chide no more away The fleeting daughters of the day, Nor with impatient thoughts outrun The lazy sun, Or think the hours do move too slow; Delay is kind, And we too soon shall find That which we seek, yet fear to know.

The mystic dark decrees Unfold not of the Destinies, 10 Nor boldly seek to antedate The laws of Fate; Thy anxious search awhile forbear, Suppress thy haste, And know that Time at last Will crown thy hope or fix thy fear.

[Expectation.] There is a suggestion here of John Hall's beautiful Call ('Romira, stay'), and the two pieces appeared so close together that it is difficult to say which may have been the first. Perhaps the resemblance was what made Stanley omit it in 1651. In l. 5 1656 reads '_N_or'.]

1651 POEMS

THE DEDICATION

To Love.

Thou, whose sole name all passions doth comprise, Youngest and oldest of the Deities; Born without parents, whose unbounded reign Moves the firm earth, fixeth the floating main, Inverts the course of heaven; and from the deep Awakes those souls that in dark Lethe sleep, By thy mysterious chains seeking t' unite, Once more, the long-since torn Hermaphrodite. He, who thy willing pris'ner long was vow'd, And uncompell'd beneath thy sceptre bow'd, 10 Returns at last in thy soft fetters bound, With victory, though not with freedom crown'd: And, of his dangers pass'd a grateful sign, Suspends this tablet at thy numerous shrine.

[The Dedication. In 1647 printed at p. 49 with the title 'Conclusion, to Love', and obviously intended to end that collection, but a number of unpaged leaves were subsequently added containing the complimentary verses addressed to Fletcher and others. The following variants occur: 11 'by thy kind power unbound'. 12 'At least with freedom, though not conquest crown'd'. 14 'Suspends these papers'. Stanley also appended a list of Greek quotations justifying the cento. There is an intrinsic interest attaching to them in that they may have suggested a similar process to Gray. A further comparison-contrast may also interest some as to the lines themselves--that of the famous and magnificent opening of Mr. Swinburne's Tristram of Lyonesse.

The notes annotate the following phrases:--1 '(a) all passions', 2 '(b) Youngest and (c) oldest', 3 '(d) Born', 4 '(e) Moves', 7 '(f) By thy mysterious ...' The Greek has been slightly corrected in spelling and accents.

(a) Alexis apud Athenaeum:

[Greek: synenênegmenos Pantachothen en heni topô poll' eidê pherôn, Hê tolma men gar andros, hê de deilia Gynaikos], &c.

Sophocles:

[Greek: Kypris ou Kypris monon, All' esti pantôn onomatôn epônymos].

(b) Plato, Sympos.: [Greek: Phêmi neôtaton auton einai theôn, kai aei neon.]

(c. d) Plato: [Greek: To gar en tois presbytatois einai tôn theôn timion. Tekmêrion de toutou: goneis gar erôtos out' eisin, oute legontai hyp' oudenos oute idiôtou oute poiêtou.]

(e) Oppian. Cyneg. 2:

[Greek: Gaia pelei statherê, beleessi de soisi doneitai Astatos epleto pontos, atar sy ge kai ton epêxas; Êlythes eis aithêr', oiden de se makros Olympos. Deimainei de se panta, kai ouranos eurys hyperthe Gaiês hossa t' enerthe kai ethnea lygra kamontôn Hoi lêthês men aphyssan hypo stoma nêpathes hydôr.]

(f) Plato: [Greek: Prôton men gar tria ên ta genê ta tôn anthrôpôn (sc. [Greek: arren, thêly, kai androgynon]). Mox addit, [Greek: Esti dê oun ek tosou ho erôs emphytos allêlôn tois anthrôpois kai tês archaias physeôs synagôgeus kai epicheirôn poiêsai hen ek duoin, <kai> iasasthai tên physin tên anthrôpinên.] Phil. Jud. [Greek: peri tês kosmopoiias. Epei de eplasthê hê gynê theasamenos adelphon eidos kai syngenê morphên êsmenise tê thea erôs de epiginomenos kathaper henos zôon ditta tmêmata diestêkota synagôgôn eis tauton harmottetai.] ]

POEMS

The Glow-worm.

Stay, fairest Chariessa, stay and mark This animated gem, whose fainter spark Of fading light its birth had from the dark.

A Star thought by the erring passenger, Which falling from its native orb dropt here, And makes the earth (its centre) now its sphere.

Should many of these sparks together be, He that the unknown light far off should see, Would think it a terrestrial Galaxy.

Take 't up, fair Saint; see how it mocks thy fright! 10 The paler flame doth not yield heat, though light, Which thus deceives thy reason, through thy sight.

But see how quickly it (ta'en up) doth fade, To shine in darkness only being made, By th' brightness of thy light turn'd to a shade;

And burnt to ashes by thy flaming eyes, On the chaste altar of thy hand it dies, As to thy greater light a sacrifice.

[The Glow-worm.] Sir Egerton Brydges thought that 'A stile of poetry so full of quaint and far-fetched conceits cannot be commended as the most chaste and classical'; but that, 'among trifles of this kind, The Glow-worm is singularly elegant and happy'. Perhaps a later judgement, while waiving the indispensableness, or even pre-eminence, of chastity and classicality in verse, may doubt whether The Glow-worm itself is not rather too 'elegant' to be as 'happy' as some other things even of its author's. The last verse redeems it, though, to some extent.]

[Line: 2 1647 'This living star of earth'. I suppose Stanley did not like the recurrence of 'star', or he may have thought that the same sound (-ar) recurred still more excessively in the rhymes. In itself the earlier reading is certainly the better.]

[Line: 4 erring] deceiv'd 1647.]

[Line: 12 'Which doth deceive' 1647.]

[Line: 15 thy] the 1647.]

The Breath.

Favonius the milder breath o' th' Spring, When proudly bearing on his softer wing Rich odours, which from the Panchean groves He steals, as by the Phoenix' pyre he moves, Profusely doth his sweeter theft dispense To the next rose's blushing innocence, But from the grateful flower, a richer scent He back receives than he unto it lent. Then laden with his odours' richest store, He to thy breath hastes; to which these are poor! 10 Which whilst the amorous wind to steal essays, He like a wanton Lover 'bout thee plays, And sometimes cooling thy soft cheek doth lie, And sometimes burning at thy flaming eye: Drawn in at last by that breath we implore, He now returns far sweeter than before, And rich by being robb'd, in thee he finds The burning sweets of Pyres, the cool of Winds.

[The Breath.] This appears in all three editions, 1656 following 1647 in the following variants: l. 8 'He doth receive'; l. 11 'while he sportively'; l. 16 'back' for 'now'.]

Desiring her to burn his Verses.

These papers, Chariessa, let thy breath Condemn; thy hand unto the flames bequeath; 'Tis fit, who gave them life, should give them death.

And whilst in curled flames to Heaven they rise, Each trembling sheet shall as it upwards flies, Present itself to thee a sacrifice.

Then when about its native orb it came, And reach'd the lesser lights o' th' sky, this flame Contracted to a star should wear thy name.

Or falling down on earth from its bright sphere, 10 Shall in a diamond's shape its lustre bear, And trouble (as it did before) thine ear.

But thou wilt cruel even in mercy be, Unequal in thy justice, who dost free Things without sense from flames, and yet not Me.

[Desiring her to burn his Verses.] Title, 1647 'To Chariessa, desiring', &c.]

[Line: 4 whilst] as 1647.]

[Line: 7 about] above 1647.]

[Line: 14 who] that 1647.]

The Night.

A DIALOGUE.

Chariessa.

What if Night Should betray us, and reveal To the light All the pleasures that we steal?

Philocharis.

Fairest, we Safely may this fear despise; How can She See our actions who wants eyes?

Chariessa.

Each dim star And the clearer lights, we know, 10 Night's eyes are; They were blind that thought her so!

Philocharis.

Those pale fires Only burn to yield a light T' our desires, And though blind, to give us sight.

Chariessa.

By this shade That surrounds us might our flame Be betray'd, And the day disclose its name. 20

Philocharis.

Dearest Fair, These dark witnesses we find Silent are; Night is dumb as well as blind.

Chorus.

Then whilst these black shades conceal us, We will scorn Th' envious Morn, And the Sun that would reveal us. Our flames shall thus their mutual light betray, And night, with these joys crown'd, outshine the day. 30

[The Night.] Entitled in 1647 'Amori Notturni. A Dialogue between Philocharis and Chariessa'.]

[Line: 2 and] or 1647.]

[Line: 8 who] that 1647.]

[Line: 18 surrounds] conceals 1647.]

The metrical arrangement here is very delightful, and the Chorus-adjustment particularly happy.]

Excuse for wishing her less Fair.

Why thy passion should it move That I wish'd thy beauty less? Fools desire what is above Power of nature to express; And to wish it had been more. Had been to outwish her store!

If the flames within thine eye Did not too great heat inspire, Men might languish yet not die, At thy less ungentle fire; 10 And might on thy weaker light Gaze, and yet not lose their sight.

Nor wouldst thou less fair appear, For detraction adds to thee; If some parts less beauteous were, Others would much fairer be: Nor can any part we know Best be styl'd, when all are so.

Thus this great excess of light, Which now dazzles our weak eyes, 20 Would, eclips'd, appear more bright; And the only way to rise, Or to be more fair, for thee, Celia, is less fair to be.

[Excuse for wishing her less Fair.] 1647 prefixes 'To Celia'.]

[Line: 7 the] thy 1647.]

[Line: 9 yet] and 1647.]

[Line: 10 less ungentle] then less scorching 1647.]

[Line: 23 for] 1656 'than', which, like much else in this edition, is pure nonsense.

Brydges thought that 'one cannot avoid admiring the ingenuity exercised in this continual play upon words'. But surely

In things like this the play of words became A play of thought, and therefore shames all shame. ]

Chang'd, yet Constant.

Wrong me no more In thy complaint, Blam'd for inconstancy; I vow'd t' adore The fairest Saint, Nor chang'd whilst thou wert she: But if another thee outshine, Th' inconstancy is only thine.

To be by such Blind fools admir'd, 10 Gives thee but small esteem, By whom as much Thou'dst be desir'd, Didst thou less beauteous seem: Sure why they love they know not well, Who why they should not cannot tell.

Women are by Themselves betray'd, And to their short joys cruel, Who foolishly 20 Themselves persuade Flames can outlast their fuel; None (though Platonic their pretence) With reason love unless by sense.

And He, by whose Command to thee I did my heart resign, Now bids me choose A Deity Diviner far than thine; 30 No power can Love from Beauty sever; I'm still Love's subject, thine was never.

The fairest She Whom none surpass To love hath only right, And such to me Thy beauty was Till one I found more bright; But 'twere as impious to adore Thee now, as not t' have done 't before. 40

Nor is it just By rules of Love Thou shouldst deny to quit A heart that must Another's prove, Ev'n in thy right to it; Must not thy subjects captives be To her who triumphs over Thee?

Cease then in vain To blot my name 50 With forg'd Apostasy, Thine is that stain Who dar'st to claim What others ask of Thee. Of Lovers they are only true Who pay their hearts where they are due.

[Chang'd, yet Constant.] Here, perhaps for the first time, we get the fire of the period communicating to the verse its own glow and flicker. It is a pity he allowed himself double rhymes in stanza 3, which break the note (those at the end of st. 4 do not). There are no variants; the poem is not in 1647. But Miss Guiney has proposed to substitute 'hearts' for 'they' in the last line.]

The Self-deceiver.

MONTALVAN.

Deceiv'd and undeceiv'd to be At once I seek with equal care, Wretched in the discovery, Happy if cozen'd still I were: Yet certain ill of ill hath less Than the mistrust of happiness.

But if when I have reach'd my aim (That which I seek less worthy prove), Yet still my love remains the same, The subject not deserving love; 10 I can no longer be excus'd, Now more in fault as less abus'd.

Then let me flatter my desires, And doubt what I might know too sure, He that to cheat himself conspires, From falsehood doth his faith secure; In love uncertain to believe I am deceiv'd, doth undeceive.

For if my life on doubt depend, And in distrust inconstant steer, 20 If I essay the strife to end (When Ignorance were Wisdom here), All thy attempts how can I blame To work my death? I seek the same.

[The Self-deceiver.] (On Stanley's translations see Introduction.) Juan Perez de Montalvan (1602-1638) belonged to the best age of Spanish literature, and was, in proportion, almost as prolific in plays and autos as his master Lope. He was accused of 'Gongorism', and this piece is one somewhat of 'conviction'.]

The Cure.

Nymph.

What busy cares too timely born (Young Swain!) disturb thy sleep? Thy early sighs awake the Morn, Thy tears teach her to weep.

Shepherd.

Sorrows, fair Nymph, are full alone; Nor counsel can endure.

Nymph.

Yet thine disclose, for until known Sickness admits no cure.

Shepherd.

My griefs are such as but to hear Would poison all thy joys, 10 The pity which thou seem'st to bear My health, thine own destroys.

Nymph.

How can diseaséd minds infect? Say what thy grief doth move!

Shepherd.

Call up thy virtue to protect Thy heart, and know 'twas love.

Nymph.

Fond Swain!

Shepherd.

By which I have been long Destin'd to meet with hate.

Nymph.

Fy, Shepherd, fy: thou dost love wrong, To call thy crime thy fate. 20

Shepherd.

Alas what cunning could decline What force can love repel?

Nymph.

Yet, there 's a way to unconfine Thy heart.

Shepherd.

For pity tell.

Nymph.

Choose one whose love may be allur'd By thine: who ever knew Inveterate diseases cur'd But by receiving new?

Shepherd.

All will like her my soul perplex.

Nymph.

Yet try.

Shepherd.

Oh could there be, 30 But any softness in that sex, I'd wish it were in thee.

Nymph.

Thy prayer is heard: learn now t' esteem The kindness she hath shown, Who thy lost freedom to redeem Hath forfeited her own.

[The Cure. As this appears only in 1651 there are no variants. The 'common measure' has little of the magic common at the time, and is sometimes banal to eighteenth-century level. But we rise in the next.]

Celia Singing.

Roses in breathing forth their scent, Or stars their borrowed ornament; Nymphs in the wat'ry sphere that move, Or Angels in their orbs above; The wingéd chariot of the light, Or the slow silent wheels of night; The shade, which from the swifter sun Doth in a circular motion run; Or souls that their eternal rest do keep, Make far more noise than Celia's breath in sleep. 10

But if the Angel, which inspires This subtile flame with active fires, Should mould this breath to words, and those Into a harmony dispose, The music of this heavenly sphere Would steal each soul out at the ear, And into plants and stones infuse A life that Cherubins would choose; And with new powers invert the laws of Fate, Kill those that live, and dead things animate. 20

[Celia Singing.] 1647 'Celia sleeping or singing', and printed without stanza-break.]

[Line: 10 more] Some imp of the press altered 'more' to 'less' in the later 'edition'. 1647 has 'more', which has been restored in text.]

[Line: 12 1647 'frame'--tempting, but perhaps not certain.]

[Line: 13 1647 'his'--again nescio an recte.]

[Line: 19 1647 'power'.]

A la Mesme.

Belle voix, dont les charmes desrobent mon âme, Et au lieu d'un esprit m'animent d'une flamme, Dont je sens la subtile et la douce chaleur Entrer par mon oreille et glisser dans mon c[oe]ur; Me faisant esprever par cette aimable vie, Nos âmes ne consistent que d'une harmonie; Que la vie m'est douce, la mort m'est sans peine, Puisqu'on les trouve toutes deux dans ton haleine: Ne m'espargne donc pas; satisfais tes rigueurs; Car si tu me souffres de vivre, je me meurs. 10

[A la Mesme] 1647 'A une Dame qui chantoit'. Stanley does not, like some more modern English writers of French verse, neglect his final e's, but he takes remarkable liberties with the caesura. 'Esprever' (l. 5) is not wrong necessarily.]

The Return.

Beauty, whose soft magnetic chains Beauty, thy harsh imperious chains Nor time nor absence can untie, As a scorned weight I here untie, Thy power the narrow bounds disdains Since thy proud empire those disdains Of Nature or philosophy, Of reason or philosophy, That canst by unconfinéd laws That wouldst within tyrannic laws A motion, though at distance, cause. Confine the power of each free cause.

Drawn by the sacred influence Forced by the potent influence Of thy bright eyes, I back return; Of thy disdain I back return, And since I nowhere can dispense Thus with those flames I do dispense, With flames that do in absence burn, 10 Which, though they would not light, did burn; I rather choose 'midst them t' expire And rather will through cold expire Than languish by a hidden fire. Than languish at a frozen fire.

But if thou the insulting pride But whilst I the insulting pride Of vulgar Beauties dost despise, Of thy vain beauty do despise, Who by vain triumphs deified, Who gladly wouldst be deified, Their votaries do sacrifice, By making me thy sacrifice; Then let those flames, whose magic charm May love thy heart, which to his charm At distance scorch'd, approach'd but warm. Approached seemed cold, at distance warm.

[The Return--(Palinode.)] The 1647 edition contains two poems, The Return and Palinode, which stand to each other in a curious relation. In 1651 Palinode has disappeared. I have thought it best to print them together. The lines in roman type are those of The Return, those in italic belong to Palinode. The latter reappeared in 1657, with slight alterations as below. In Pal. 5 Miss Guiney reads 'would' for 'wouldst', evidently not quite understanding the sense or the grammar of the time. The second person connects itself with the vocative in 'Beauty' and the 'thou' twice implied in 'thy'.]

[In Palinode, l. 7, 1657 reads 'powerful' for 'potent'; l. 12 'in' for 'at'.]

[In The Return, l. 2, 1651 'unite'--an obvious misprint; l. 3, 1647 'bound'; l. 5, 1647 'That', 1651 'Thou'; l. 10, 1657 'which' for 'that'; l. 11, 'twixt'--not so well; l. 13, 'the' is dropped by mere accident in 1651--'the', not 'th',' is required.]

Song.

When I lie burning in thine eye. Or freezing in thy breast, What Martyrs, in wish'd flames that die, Are half so pleas'd or blest?

When thy soft accents through mine ear Into my soul do fly, What Angel would not quit his sphere, To hear such harmony?

Or when the kiss thou gav'st me last My soul stole in its breath, 10 What life would sooner be embrac'd Than so desir'd a death?

[When I commanded am by thee, Or by thine eye or hand, What monarch would not prouder be To serve than to command?]

Then think no freedom I desire, Or would my fetters leave, Since Phoenix-like I from this fire Both life and youth receive. 20

[Song.] Sir Egerton thought this (which, by the way, Lovelace may have seen, or vice versa) 'a very elegant little song, with all the harmony of modern rhythm'. One might perhaps substitute 'with more of the harmony of contemporary rhythm than Stanley always attains'. It is certainly much better than The Cure. The bracketed stanza was dropped in 1651, but it seemed better to restore it thus in text than to degrade it hither. One or two extremely unimportant misprints occur in one or other version, but are not worth noting.]

The Sick Lover.

GUARINI.

My sickly breath Wastes in a double flame; Whilst Love and Death To my poor life lay claim; The fever, in whose heat I melt, By her that causeth it not felt.

Thou who alone Canst, yet wilt grant no ease, Why slight'st thou one To feed a new disease? 10 Unequal fair! the heart is thine; Ah, why then should the pain be mine?

[The Sick Lover.] Not a great thing. In l. 6, Miss Guiney thinks 'it', which is in all texts, should be 'is'. But 'it' is wanted and 'is' is not. 'The fever not [being] felt' is no excessively 'absolute' construction.]

Song.

Celinda, by what potent art Or unresisted charm, Dost thou thine ear and frozen heart Against my passion arm?

Or by what hidden influence Of powers in one combin'd, Dost thou rob Love of either sense, Made deaf as well as blind?

Sure thou, as friends, united hast Two distant Deities; 10 And scorn within thy heart hast plac'd, And love within thine eyes.

Or those soft fetters of thy hair, A bondage that disdains All liberty, do guard thine ear Free from all other chains.

Then my complaint how canst thou hear, Or I this passion fly, Since thou imprison'd hast thine ear, And not confin'd thine eye? 20

[Song--Celinda, &c.] Again, mere commonplace common measure. 'Those soft fetters of thy hair' (l. 13) is at least as good as 'mobled queen', but otherwise the phrase rather sinks to the measure. 'friends' (l. 9) is misprinted 'friend' in 1647, and Sir Egerton has mispunctuated 'friends united'.]

Song.

Fool, take up thy shaft again; If thy store Thou profusely spend in vain, Who can furnish thee with more? Throw not then away thy darts On impenetrable hearts.

Think not thy pale flame can warm Into tears, Or dissolve the snowy charm Which her frozen bosom wears, 10 That expos'd, unmelted lies To the bright suns of her eyes.

But since thou thy power hast lost, Nor canst fire Kindle in that breast, whose frost Doth these flames in mine inspire, Not to thee but her I'll sue, That disdains both me and you.

[Song--Fool, &c.] An extremely pretty measure, not ill-parted with phrase and imagery. The 'Take, oh! take' motive reappears.]

Delay.

Delay! Alas, there cannot be To Love a greater tyranny: Those cruel beauties that have slain Their votaries by their disdain, Or studied torments, sharp and witty, Will be recorded for their pity, And after-ages be misled To think them kind, when this is spread. Of deaths the speediest is despair, Delays the slowest tortures are; 10 Thy cruelty at once destroys, But Expectation starves my joys. Time and Delay may bring me past The power of Love to cure, at last; And shouldst thou wish to ease my pain, Thy pity might be lent in vain; Or if thou hast decreed, that I Must fall beneath thy cruelty, O kill me soon! Thou wilt express More mercy, ev'n in showing less. 20

Commanded by his Mistress to woo for her.

MARINO.

Strange kind of love! that knows no president, A faith so firm as passeth Faith's extent, By a tyrannic beauty long subdu'd, I now must sue for her to whom I su'd, Unhappy Orator! who, though I move For pity, pity cannot hope to prove: Employing thus against myself my breath, And in another's life begging my death.

But if such moving powers my accents have, Why first my own redress do I not crave? 10 What hopes that I to pity should incline Another's breast, who can move none in thine? Or how can the griev'd patient look for ease, When the physician suffers the disease? If thy sharp wounds from me expect their cure, 'Tis fit those first be heal'd that I endure.

Ungentle fair one! why dost thou dispense Unequally thy sacred influence? Why pining me, offer'st the precious food To one by whom nor priz'd, nor understood; 20 So some clear brook to the full main, to pay Her needless crystal tribute hastes away, Profusely foolish; whilst her niggard tide Starves the poor flowers that grow along her side.

Thou who my glories art design'd to own, Come then, and reap the joys that I have sown: Yet in thy pride acknowledge, though thou bear The happy prize away, the palm I wear. Nor the obedience of my flame accuse, That what I sought, myself conspir'd to lose: 30 The hapless state where I am fix'd is such, To love I seem not, 'cause I love too much.

[Commanded by his Mistress, &c.] Marino[i]'s name is so frequent in books on literature, and his work so little known to the ordinary reader, that this example may be welcome. The rather snip-snap antithesis, and the somewhat obvious conceit, show the famous Italian really at his worst. 'President' (l. 1), though not impossible, is probably for 'pre_ce_dent'. The whole piece has a special interest as showing how this 'conceit' and 'false wit' actually encouraged the growth of the stopped antithetic couplet which was to be turned against both.]

The Repulse.

Not that by this disdain I am releas'd, And freed from thy tyrannic chain, Do I myself think bless'd;

Nor that thy flame shall burn No more; for know That I shall into ashes turn, Before this fire doth so.

Nor yet that unconfin'd I now may rove, 10 And with new beauties please my mind, But that thou ne'er didst love:

For since thou hast no part Felt of this flame, I only from thy tyrant heart Repuls'd, not banish'd am.

To lose what once was mine Would grieve me more Than those inconstant sweets of thine Had pleas'd my soul before. 20

Now I have not lost the bliss I ne'er possest; And spite of fate am blest in this, That I was never blest.

[The Repulse.] In the third line of this rather fine poem 1656 reads 'romantic' for 'tyrannic', and Miss Guiney adopts it. To me it seems quite inappropriate, and one of the errors of dictation so common in that 'edition'.]

[Line: 21 1647 reads 'that bliss'.]

The Tomb.

When, cruel fair one, I am slain By thy disdain, And, as a trophy of thy scorn, To some old tomb am borne, Thy fetters must their power bequeath To those of Death; Nor can thy flame immortal burn, Like monumental fires within an urn; Thus freed from thy proud empire, I shall prove There is more liberty in Death than Love. 10

And when forsaken Lovers come, To see my tomb, Take heed thou mix not with the crowd And (as a Victor) proud To view the spoils thy beauty made Press near my shade, Lest thy too cruel breath or name Should fan my ashes back into a flame, And thou, devour'd by this revengeful fire, His sacrifice, who died as thine, expire. 20

[Or should my dust thy pity move That could not love, Thy sighs might wake me, and thy tears Renew my life and years. Or should thy proud insulting scorn Laugh at my urn, Kindly deceived by thy disdain, I might be smil'd into new life again. Then come not near, since both thy love and hate Have equal power to love or animate.] 30

But if cold earth, or marble, must Conceal my dust, Whilst hid in some dark ruins, I Dumb and forgotten lie, The pride of all thy victory Will sleep with me; And they who should attest thy glory, Will, or forget, or not believe this story. Then to increase thy triumph, let me rest, Since by thine eye slain, buried in thy breast. 40

[The Tomb.] Brydges, though thinking the end of this poem 'a feeble conceit', admits that 'there are passages in it that are more than pretty'. It is certainly one of Stanley's best, and he seems to have taken some trouble with it. In 1651 he dropped the bracketed stanza 3 and substituted the text for the last couplet of stanza 2, which reads in 1647:

And (thou in this fire sacrificed to me) We might each other's mutual martyr be.

In the last line of the omitted stanza 'love' is certainly wrong, and Miss Guiney's suggestion of 'kill' is almost certissima. But she seems to have had a different copy of 1647 before her from that which I collated, for she does not notice a variant, or set of variants, in ll. 37-9:

And they that should this triumph know Will or forget or not believe it so, Then to increase thy glories, &c.

In l. 5 1647 reads 'thy power'.]

The Enjoyment.

ST.-AMANT.

Far from the court's ambitious noise Retir'd, to those more harmless joys Which the sweet country, pleasant fields, And my own court, a cottage, yields; I liv'd from all disturbance free, Though prisoner (Sylvia) unto thee; Secur'd from fears, which others prove, Of the inconstancy of Love; A life, in my esteem, more blest, Than e'er yet stoop'd to Death's arrest. 10

My senses and desires agreed, With joint delight each other feed: A bliss, I reach'd, as far above Words, as her beauty, or my love; Such as compar'd with which, the joys Of the most happy seem but toys: Affection I receive and pay, My pleasures knew not Grief's allay: The more I tasted I desir'd, The more I quench'd my thirst was fir'd. 20

Now, in some place where Nature shows Her naked beauty, we repose; Where she allures the wand'ring eye With colours, which faint art outvie; Pearls scatter'd by the weeping morn, Each where the glitt'ring flowers adorn; The mistress of the youthful year (To whom kind Zephyrus doth bear His amorous vows and frequent prayer) Decks with these gems her neck and hair. 30

Hither, to quicken Time with sport, The little sprightly Loves resort, And dancing o'er the enamel'd mead, Their mistresses the Graces lead; Then to refresh themselves, repair To the soft bosom of my fair; Where from the kisses they bestow Upon each other, such sweets flow As carry in their mixéd breath A mutual power of life and death. 40

Next in an elm's dilated shade We see a rugged Satyr laid, Teaching his reed, in a soft strain, Of his sweet anguish to complain; Then to a lonely grove retreat, Where day can no admittance get, To visit peaceful solitude; Whom seeing by repose pursu'd, All busy cares, for fear to spoil Their calmer courtship, we exile. 50

There underneath a myrtle, thought By Fairies sacred, where was wrought By Venus' hand Love's mysteries, And all the trophies of her eyes, Our solemn prayers to Heaven we send, That our firm love might know no end; Nor time its vigour e'er impair: Then to the wingéd God we sware, And grav'd the oath in its smooth rind, Which in our hearts we deeper find. 60

Then to my dear (as if afraid To try her doubted faith) I said, 'Would in thy soul my form as clear, As in thy eyes I see it, were.' She kindly angry saith, 'Thou art Drawn more at large within my heart; These figures in my eye appear But small, because they are not near, Thou through these glasses seest thy face, As pictures through their crystal case.' 70

Now with delight transported, I My wreathéd arms about her tie; The flattering Ivy never holds Her husband Elm in stricter folds: To cool my fervent thirst, I sip Delicious nectar from her lip. She pledges, and so often past This amorous health, till Love at last Our souls did with these pleasures sate, And equally inebriate. 80

Awhile, our senses stol'n away, Lost in this ecstasy we lay, Till both together rais'd to life, We re-engage in this kind strife. Cythaera with her Syrian boy Could never reach our meanest joy. The childish God of Love ne'er tried So much of love with his cold bride, As we in one embrace include, Contesting each to be subdu'd. 90

[The Enjoyment.] La Jouissance, one of Saint-Amant's early lyric pieces, which is here translated, was not so famous as his Solitude, which will be found (Englished by the matchless Orinda a little after Stanley's time) in vol. i, p. 601, of this collection; but it was popular and much imitated. Stanley has cut it down considerably, for the original has nineteen stanzas--some of them, I suppose, too 'warm' for the translator's modest muse.]

[Line: 59 Brydges misprints '_k_ind']

To Celia Pleading Want of Merit.

Dear, urge no more that killing cause Of our divorce; Love is not fetter'd by such laws, Nor bows to any force: Though thou deniest I should be thine, Yet say not thou deserv'st not to be mine.

Oh rather frown away my breath With thy disdain, Or flatter me with smiles to death; By joy or sorrow slain, 10 'Tis less crime to be kill'd by thee, Than I thus cause of mine own death should be.

Thyself of beauty to divest, And me of love, Or from the worth of thine own breast Thus to detract, would prove In us a blindness, and in thee At best a sacrilegious modesty.

But, Celia, if thou wilt despise What all admire, 20 Nor rate thyself at the just price Of beauty or desire, Yet meet my flames, and thou shalt see That equal love knows no disparity.

[To Celia Pleading, &c.] 1647 has in title 'To One that Pleaded her own', and 'Dearest' for 'Celia' in l. 19.]

Love's Innocence.

See how this Ivy strives to twine Her wanton arms about the Vine, And her coy lover thus restrains, Entangled in her amorous chains; See how these neighb'ring Palms do bend Their heads, and mutual murmurs send, As whispering with a jealous fear Their loves, into each other's ear. Then blush not such a flame to own, As like thyself no crime hath known; 10 Led by these harmless guides, we may Embrace and kiss as well as they. And like those blesséd souls above, Whose life is harmony and love, Let us our mutual thoughts betray, And in our wills our minds display; This silent speech is swifter far Than the ears' lazy species are; And the expression it affords, As our desires, 'bove reach of words. 20 Thus we, my dear, of these may learn A passion others not discern; Nor can it shame or blushes move, Like plants to live, like Angels love: Since all excuse with equal innocence, What above reason is, or beneath sense.

[Love's Innocence.] In 1647 the following differences occur: Title, 'The Innocence of Love'; l. 1, '(Dear) doth twine' for 'strives to twine'; l. 7, 'To one another whispering there'; ll. 9-10, 'Then blush not, Fair, that flame to show, Which like thyself no crime can know'; ll. 11-12, 'Thus led by those chaste guides, we may Embrace and kiss as free as they'; l. 20, 'As are our flames'; l. 21, 'Thus, Doris, we'.]

The Bracelet.

TRISTAN.

Now Love be prais'd! that cruel fair, Who my poor heart restrains Under so many chains, Hath weav'd a new one for it of her hair.

These threads of amber us'd to play With every courtly wind; And never were confin'd; But in a thousand curls allow'd to stray.

Cruel each part of her is grown; Nor less unkind than she 10 These fetters are to me, Which to restrain my freedom, lose their own.

[The Bracelet.] Little survives, even in literary memories, of François Tristan l'Hermite (1601-1655), except the success of his Marianne (Maria_m_ne), 1636, one of the most famous French tragedies of the period outside Corneille. M. Ed. Fournier gave him a niche in Crépet's Poètes Français (Paris, 1861), ii. 539-52, but did not include the original of this piece. The In Memoriam rhyme-order, though the line lengths are different, is interesting. Stanley had perhaps borrowed, before translating it, the 'soft fetters of her hair', noted above, though the fancy is of course primaeval and perennial.]

The Kiss.

When on thy lip my soul I breathe, Which there meets thine, Freed from their fetters by this death Our subtle forms combine; Thus without bonds of sense they move, And like two Cherubins converse by love.

Spirits, to chains of earth confin'd, Discourse by sense; But ours, that are by flames refin'd, With those weak ties dispense. 10 Let such in words their minds display; We in a kiss our mutual thoughts convey.

But since my soul from me doth fly, To thee retir'd, Thou canst not both retain: for I Must be with one inspir'd. Then, dearest, either justly mine Restore, or in exchange let me have thine.

Yet, if thou dost return mine own, Oh tak't again! 20 For 'tis this pleasing death alone Gives ease unto my pain. Kill me once more, or I shall find Thy pity, than thy cruelty, less kind.

[The Kiss.] Title in 1647 'The killing Kiss', and several other variants. An answer to this poem appears in Jordan's Claraphi and Clarinda.]

[Line: 4 1647 'They both unite and join'. But Miss Guiney's suspicion that 'forms' may be a misprint obviously shows forgetfulness of the philosophical sense of the word = 'ideas', 'immortal parts'. Cf. Spenser, 'For soul is form'.]

[Line: 6 by] 1647 'and'--perhaps better.]

[Line: 12 1647 'Our lips, not tongues, each other's thoughts betray'. (Miss Guiney's copy seems to have 'our tongues', which cannot be right.)]

[Line: 15 for I] and I 1647.]

[Line: 17 dearest] 1647 'Doris'. This is the second time (v. sup., p. 126) that poor Doris has been disestablished.]

Apollo and Daphne.

GARCILASSO MARINO.

When Phoebus saw a rugged bark beguile His love, and his embraces intercept, The leaves, instructed by his grief to smile, Taking fresh growth and verdure as he wept: 'How can', saith he, 'my woes expect release, When tears the subject of my tears increase!'

His chang'd, yet scorn-retaining Fair he kiss'd, From the lov'd trunk plucking a little bough; And though the conquest which he sought he miss'd, With that triumphant spoil adorns his brow. 10 Thus this disdainful maid his aim deceives: Where he expected fruit he gathers leaves.

[Apollo and Daphne.] Why Garcilasso I do not know. Marini's name was Giambattista.]

[Line: 6 The first 'tears' certainly looks odd, and Miss Guiney conjectures 'leaves'. But the ways of Marinism are not thus. Apollo's tears watered the laurel and so made it grow. His tears increased their subject, the vapid vegetable substitute for Daphne's flesh and blood.]

Speaking and Kissing.

The air, which thy smooth voice doth break, Into my soul like lightning flies; My life retires whilst thou dost speak, And thy soft breath its room supplies.

Lost in this pleasing ecstasy, I join my trembling lips to thine; And back receive that life from thee, Which I so gladly did resign.

Forbear, Platonic fools, t' inquire What numbers do the soul compose! No harmony can life inspire, But that which from these accents flows.

[Speaking and Kissing.] This is smarter than Stanley's usual style.]

The Snow-ball.

Doris, I that could repel All those darts about thee dwell, And had wisely learn'd to fear, 'Cause I saw a foe so near; I that my deaf ear did arm 'Gainst thy voice's powerful charm, And the lightning of thine eye Durst (by closing mine) defy, Cannot this cold snow withstand From the whiter of thy hand. 10 Thy deceit hath thus done more Than thy open force before: For who could suspect or fear Treason in a face so clear; Or the hidden fires descry Wrapt in this cold outside lie? Flames might thus involv'd in ice The deceiv'd world sacrifice; Nature, ignorant of this Strange antiperistasis, 20 Would her falling frame admire, That by snow were set on fire.

[The Snow-ball.] Doris maintains here the place she lost above. The tripping seventeenth-century 'sevens' are well spent on her. In l. 10 Miss Guiney thinks that 'whiter', the sole reading, must be 'winter'. [Greek: hêkista]: that Stanley meant 'the whiter snow' is, to me, certain.]

[Line: 20 'Antiperistasis' = 'reaction' or 'topsyturvyfication' (Thackeray).]

The Deposition.

Though when I lov'd thee thou wert fair, Thou art no longer so; Those glories all the pride they wear Unto opinion owe; Beauties, like stars, in borrow'd lustre shine; And 'twas my love that gave thee thine.

The flames that dwelt within thine eye Do now, with mine, expire; Thy brightest graces fade and die At once with my desire; 10 Love's fires thus mutual influence return; Thine cease to shine, when mine to burn.

Then, proud Celinda, hope no more To be implor'd or woo'd, Since by thy scorn thou dost restore The wealth my love bestow'd; And thy despis'd disdain too late shall find That none are fair but who are kind.

[The Deposition.] In 1647 'A Deposition _from Beauty_'. Also l. 3, 'do' for 'all'; l. 9, 'glories' for 'graces'; l. 16, 'That' for 'The' and 'which' for 'my'.]

To his Mistress in Absence.

TASSO.

Far from thy dearest self, the scope Of all my aims, I waste in secret flames; And only live because I hope. Oh, when will Fate restore The joys, in whose bright fire My expectation shall expire, That I may live because I hope no more!

Love's Heretic.

He whose active thoughts disdain To be captive to one foe, And would break his single chain, Or else more would undergo; Let him learn the art of me, By new bondage to be free!

What tyrannic mistress dare To one beauty love confine, Who, unbounded as the air, All may court but none decline? 10 Why should we the heart deny As many objects as the eye?

Wheresoe'er I turn or move, A new passion doth detain me: Those kind beauties that do love, Or those proud ones that disdain me; This frown melts, and that smile burns me; This to tears, that ashes turns me.

Soft fresh Virgins, not full blown, With their youthful sweetness take me; 20 Sober Matrons, that have known Long since what these prove, awake me; Here staid coldness I admire; There the lively active fire.

She that doth by skill dispense Every favour she bestows, Or the harmless innocence, Which nor court nor city knows, Both alike my soul enflame, That wild Beauty, and this tame. 30

She that wisely can adorn Nature with the wealth of Art, Or whose rural sweets do scorn Borrow'd helps to take a heart, The vain care of that's my pleasure, Poverty of this my treasure.

Both the wanton and the coy, Me with equal pleasures move; She whom I by force enjoy, Or who forceth me to love: 40 This, because she'll not confess, That not hide, her happiness.

She whose loosely flowing hair, Scatter'd like the beams o' th' morn, Playing with the sportive air, Hides the sweets it doth adorn, Captive in that net restrains me, In those golden fetters chains me.

Nor doth she with power less bright My divided heart invade, 50 Whose soft tresses spread like night O'er her shoulders a black shade; For the starlight of her eyes Brighter shines through those dark skies.

Black, or fair, or tall, or low, I alike with all can sport; The bold sprightly Thais woo, Or the frozen Vestal court; Every Beauty takes my mind, Tied to all, to none confin'd. 60

[Love's Heretic.] This, for Stanley, longish piece has few vv. ll. But 1647 reads in l. 34 'that' instead of 'to', and the singular 'pleasure' in l. 38. The piece is rather in the Suckling vein; but Stanley did not play the light-o'-love quite successfully.]

La Belle Confidente.

You earthly souls that court a wanton flame, Whose pale weak influence Can rise no higher than the humble name, And narrow laws of sense, Learn by our friendship to create An immaterial fire, Whose brightness Angels may admire, But cannot emulate.

Sickness may fright the roses from her cheek, Or make the lilies fade; 10 But all the subtile ways that Death doth seek, Cannot my love invade. Flames that are kindled by the eye, Through time and age expire; But ours, that boast a reach far higher, Can nor decay nor die.

For when we must resign our vital breath, Our loves by Fate benighted, We by this friendship shall survive in death, Even in divorce united. 20 Weak Love, through fortune or distrust, In time forgets to burn, But this pursues us to the urn, And marries either's dust.

[La Belle Confidente.] On this Sir Egerton: 'However far-fetched these ideas may be, there is uncommon elegance and ingenuity in the expression, and polish in the versification.' There is also something more than polish--a concerted effect which 'elegance and ingenuity' do not often reach. In l. 16, 'Cannot' appears in 1647 for 'Can nor'; 'And' for 'For' in l. 17; and ll. 18, 20 are changed over and run:

Even in divorce delighted, . . . . . . Still in the grave united. ]

La Belle Ennemie.

I yield, dear enemy, nor know How to resist so fair a foe! Who would not thy soft yoke sustain, And bow beneath thy easy chain, That with a bondage bless'd might be, Which far transcends all liberty? But since I freely have resign'd At first assault my willing mind, Insult not o'er my captiv'd heart With too much tyranny and art, 10 Lest by thy scorn thou lose the prize Gain'd by the power of thy bright eyes, And thou this conquest thus shalt prove, Though got by Beauty, kept by Love!

The Dream.

LOPE DE VEGA.

To set my jealous soul at strife, All things maliciously agree, Though sleep of Death the image be, Dreams are the portraiture of life.

I saw, when last I clos'd my eyes, Celinda stoop t' another's will; If specious Apprehension kill, What would the truth without disguise?

The joys which I should call mine own, Methought this rival did possess: 10 Like dreams is all my happiness; Yet dreams themselves allow me none.

[The Dream.] The actual and full In Memoriam arrangement is the point of interest here. Stanley, however, is even less successful than the few other seventeenth-century practitioners in getting the full rhythmical sweep of the form into operation. He breaks the circle and so loses the charm.]

To the Lady D.

MADAM, The blushes I betray, When at your feet I humbly lay These papers, beg you would excuse Th' obedience of a bashful Muse, Who, bowing to your strict command, Trusts her own errors to your hand, Hasty abortives, which, laid by, She meant, ere they were born should die: But since the soft power of your breath Hath call'd them back again from Death, 10 To your sharp judgement now made known, She dares for hers no longer own; The worst she must not, these resign'd She hath to th' fire, and where you find Those your kind Charity admir'd, She writ but what your eyes inspir'd.

[To the Lady D.] This in 1647 is the Dedication 'To my most honour'd Aunt the Lady Dormer'. She was a daughter of Sir William Hammond and wife of Sir Robert Dormer, Knight, of Chearsley, Bucks. In 1647 Stanley added to the poem 'Madam, Your Ladyships Greatest admirer and most humble Servant, THO. STANLEY'.]

Love Deposed.

You that unto your mistress' eyes Your hearts do sacrifice, And offer sighs or tears at Love's rich shrine, Renounce with me Th' idolatry, Nor this infernal Power esteem divine.

The brand, the quiver, and the bow, Which we did first bestow, And he as tribute wears from every lover, I back again 10 From him have ta'en, And the impostor, now unveil'd, discover.

I can the feeble child disarm, Untie his mystic charm, Divest him of his wings, and break his arrow; We will obey No more his sway, Nor live confin'd to laws or bounds so narrow.

And you, bright Beauties, that inspire The Boy's pale torch with fire, 20 We safely now your subtle power despise, And unscorch'd may Like atoms play, And wanton in the sunshine of your eyes.

Nor think hereafter by new arts You can bewitch our hearts, Or raise this devil by your pleasing charm; We will no more His power implore, Unless, like Indians, that he do no harm. 30

The Divorce.

Dear, back my wounded heart restore, And turn away thy powerful eyes; Flatter my willing soul no more! Love must not hope what Fate denies.

Take, take away thy smiles and kisses! Thy love wounds deeper than disdain; For he that sees the heaven he misses, Sustains two hells, of loss and pain.

Shouldst thou some other's suit prefer, I might return thy scorn to thee, 10 And learn apostasy of her, Who taught me first idolatry.

Or in thy unrelenting breast Should I disdain or coyness move, He by thy hate might be releas'd, Who now is prisoner to thy love.

Since then unkind Fate will divorce Those whom Affection long united, Be thou as cruel as this force, And I in death shall be delighted. 20

Thus while so many suppliants woo. And beg they may thy pity prove, I only for thy scorn do sue: 'Tis charity here not to love.

[The Divorce.] A rise from one or two preceding pieces.]

[Line: 12 Who] That 1647.]

[Line: 14 I] cold 1647.]

[Line: 15 He] I 1647.]

[Line: 16 is] am 1647.]

[Line: 21 while] whilst 1647. woo] do 1647.]

[Line: 22 'Implore thy pity they may prove' 1647.]

Time Recovered.

CASONE.

Come, my dear, whilst youth conspires With the warmth of our desires; Envious Time about thee watches, And some grace each minute snatches; Now a spirit, now a ray, From thy eye he steals away; Now he blasts some blooming rose, Which upon thy fresh cheek grows; Gold now plunders in a hair; Now the rubies doth impair 10 Of thy lips; and with sure haste All thy wealth will take at last; Only that of which thou mak'st Use in time, from time thou tak'st.

[Time Recovered.] This 'very light and good' version is from Guido Casoni (so more usually), a poet of the Trevisan March (1587-1640), and founder of the Academy of the Incogniti at Venice, to the Transactions of which he contributed most of his work.]

The Bracelet.

Rebellious fools that scorn to bow Beneath Love's easy sway, Whose stubborn wills no laws allow, Disdaining to obey, Mark but this wreath of hair, and you shall see, None that might wear such fetters would be free!

I once could boast a soul like you, As unconfin'd as air; But mine, which force could not subdue, Was caught within this snare; 10 And, by myself betray'd, I, for this gold, A heart that many storms withstood, have sold.

No longer now wise Art inquire, With this vain search delighted, How souls, that human breasts inspire, Are to their frames united; Material chains such spirits well may bind, When this soft braid can tie both arm and mind

Now, Beauties, I defy your charm, Rul'd by more powerful art: 20 This mystic wreath which crowns my arm, Defends my vanquish'd heart; And I, subdu'd by one more fair, shall be Secur'd from Conquest by Captivity.

[The Bracelet.] Almost certainly suggested by Donne. If so the suggestion was very rashly taken, but the result might have been worse.]

[Line: 7 soul] heart 1647. l. 12 is an alteration--as Miss Guiney very rightly says to its detriment--of 1647, which reads--

Have to mine enemy my freedom sold. ]

[Line: 15 1647 'that do our life inspire'.]

[Line: 22 1647 'Guards and defends my heart'.]

The Farewell.

Since Fate commands me hence, and I Must leave my soul with thee, and die, Dear, spare one sigh, or else let fall A tear to crown my funeral, That I may tell my grievéd heart, Thou art unwilling we should part, And Martyrs, that embrace the fire, Shall with less joy than I expire.

With this last kiss I will bequeath My soul transfus'd into thy breath, 10 Whose active heat shall gently slide Into thy breast, and there reside, And be in spite of Fate, thus bless'd By this sad death, of Heaven possess'd. Then prove but kind, and thou shalt see Love hath more power than Destiny.

[The Farewell.] In lines 13 and 14 of this all editions vary slightly. 1647 has 'may' for 'be', which latter word opens the next line, turning out 'sad'. The text is 1651, 1656, keeping l. 13 of 1647, has for l. 14 the text of 1651.]

Claim to Love.

GUARINI.

Alas! alas! thou turn'st in vain Thy beauteous face away, Which, like young sorcerers, rais'd a pain Above its power to lay.

Love moves not, as thou turn'st thy look, But here doth firmly rest; He long ago thy eyes forsook, To revel in my breast.

Thy power on him why hop'st thou more Than his on me should be? 10 The claim thou lay'st to him is poor, To that he owns from me.

His substance in my heart excels His shadow in thy sight; Fire, where it burns, more truly dwells, Than where it scatters light.

To his Mistress, who dreamed he was wounded.

GUARINI.

Thine eyes, bright Saint, disclose, And thou shalt find Dreams have not with illusive shows Deceiv'd thy mind: What sleep presented to thy view, Awake, and thou shalt find is true.

Those mortal wounds I bear, From thee begin, Which though they outward not appear, Yet bleed within. 10 Love's flame like active lightning flies, Wounding the heart, but not the eyes.

But now I yield to die Thy sacrifice, Nor more in vain will hope to fly From thy bright eyes: Their killing power cannot be shunn'd, Open or closed alike they wound.

[To his Mistress, &c.] 1647 'To Doris dreaming he was wounded'. Guarini is not there mentioned.]

The Exchange.

DIALOGUE.

Phil.

That kiss, which last thou gav'st me, stole My fainting life away, Yet, though to thy breast fled, my soul Still in mine own doth stay;

Char.

And with the same warm breath did mine Into thy bosom slide; There dwell contracted unto thine, Yet still with me reside.

Chor.

Both souls thus in desire are one, And each is two in skill; 10 Doubled in intellect alone, United in the will. Weak Nature no such power doth know: Love only can these wonders show.

[The Exchange.] 1647 'Exchange of Souls'. In editions other than 1651 there is a refrain after each stanza-speech:

Weak Nature no such power doth know, Love only can these wonders show. ]

Unaltered by Sickness.

Sickness, in vain thou dost invade A Beauty that can never fade! Could all thy malice but impair One of the sweets which crown this fair, Or steal the spirits from her eye, Or kiss into a paler dye The blushing roses of her cheek, Our drooping hopes might justly seek Redress from thee, and thou might'st save Thousands of lovers from the grave: 10 But such assaults are vain, for she Is too divine to stoop to thee; Blest with a form as much too high For any change, as Destiny, Which no attempt can violate; For what's her Beauty, is our Fate.

[Unaltered by Sickness.] Lines 1 and 2 are expanded in 1656 to:

Pale, envious Sickness, hence! no more Possess our breast, too cold before. In vain, alas! thou dost invade Those beauties which can never fade. ]

[Line: 4 'On those sweets which crown the fair' 1656.]

[Line: 7 blushing] blooming 1657.]

[Line: 8 drooping] dropping 1647: suffering 1656.]

[Line: 14 For any] 1656 But any--nonsensically.]

On his Mistress's Death.

PETRARCH.

Love the ripe harvest of my toils Began to cherish with his smiles, Preparing me to be indued With all the joys I long pursued, When my fresh hopes, fair and full blown, Death blasts, ere I could call my own.

Malicious Death! why with rude force Dost thou my Fair from me divorce? False Life! why in this loathéd chain Me from my Fair dost thou detain? 10 In whom assistance shall I find? Alike are Life and Death unkind.

Pardon me, Love; thy power outshines, And laughs at their infirm designs. She is not wedded to a tomb, Nor I to sorrow in her room. They, what thou join'st, can ne'er divide She lives in me, in her I died.

The Exequies.

Draw near, You Lovers that complain Of Fortune or Disdain, And to my ashes lend a tear; Melt the hard marble with your groans, And soften the relentless stones, Whose cold embraces the sad subject hide, Of all Love's cruelties, and Beauty's pride!

No verse, No epicedium bring, 10 Nor peaceful requiem sing, To charm the terrors of my hearse; No profane numbers must flow near The sacred silence that dwells here. Vast griefs are dumb; softly, oh! softly mourn, Lest you disturb the peace attends my urn.

Yet strew Upon my dismal grave Such offerings as you have, Forsaken cypress and sad yew; 20 For kinder flowers can take no birth, Or growth, from such unhappy earth. Weep only o'er my dust, and say, Here lies To Love and Fate an equal sacrifice.

[The Exequies.] A very good stanza, the rhythm rising and swelling admirably. In the final couplet of the first, 1647 reads--

do a victim hide, That, paid to Beauty, on Love's altar died. ]

The Silkworm.

This silkworm, to long sleep retir'd, The early year hath re-inspir'd, Who now to pay to thee prepares The tribute of her pleasing cares; And hastens with industrious toil To make thy ornament, her spoil: See with what pains she spins for thee The thread of her own destiny; Then growing proud in Death, to know That all her curious labours thou 10 Wilt, as in triumph, deign to wear, Retires to her soft sepulchre. Such, dearest, is that hapless state, To which I am design'd by Fate, Who by thee, willingly, o'ercome, Work mine own fetters and my tomb.

[The Silkworm.] ]

[Line: 1 This] The 1647.]

[Line: 6 Miss Guiney insists, in the teeth of all texts, upon changing over 'thy' and 'her', saying that 'facts and the context force' the reversal. I am afraid that the genius of seventeenth-century poetry did not care much for facts or context at any time. But here no violence is done to either. Nine men out of ten wishing to say 'to make out of the spoil of herself an ornament for thee' would have probably put it in the same way, especially if they wanted the rhyme 'spoil'.]

[Line: 10 'That her rich work and labours' 1647.]

[Line: 14 'I destined am' 1647.]

A Lady Weeping.

MONTALVAN.

As when some brook flies from itself away, The murmuring crystal loosely runs astray; And as about the verdant plain it winds, The meadows with a silver riband binds, Printing a kiss on every flower she meets, Losing herself to fill them with new sweets, To scatter frost upon the lily's head, And scarlet on the gilliflower to spread; So melting sorrow, in the fair disguise Of humid stars, flow'd from bright Cloris' eyes, 10 Which wat'ring every flower her cheek discloses, Melt into jasmines here, there into roses.

[A Lady Weeping.] Few people, I think, will accept Miss Guiney's suggestion of 'tears' for 'stars' in l. 10, especially after 'humid'. The shooting star, which dissolved on reaching earth into dew or 'jelly', is very common with Carolines.]

Ambition.

I must no longer now admire The coldness which possess'd Thy snowy breast, That can by other flames be set on fire. Poor Love, to harsh Disdain betray'd, Is by Ambition thus out-weigh'd.

Hadst thou but known the vast extent Of constant faith, how far 'Bove all that are Born slaves to Wealth, or Honour's vain ascent; 10 No richer treasure couldst thou find Than hearts with mutual chains combin'd.

But Love is too despis'd a name, And must not hope to rise Above these ties; Honour and Wealth outshine his paler flame; These unite souls, whilst true desire Unpitied dies in its own fire.

Yet, cruel fair one, I did aim With no less justice too, 20 Than those that sue For other hopes, and thy proud fortunes claim. Wealth honours, honours wealth approve, But Beauty's only meant for Love.

[Ambition.] ]

[Line: 16 Miss Guiney thinks that the singular 'Honour', though in all texts, is obviously wrong. I should say that the plural would be more obviously wronger. The mistake, of course, comes from importing a modern distinction.]

Song.

When, dearest beauty, thou shalt pay Thy faith and my vain hope away To some dull soul that cannot know The worth of that thou dost bestow; Lest with my sighs and tears I might Disturb thy unconfin'd delight, To some dark shade I will retire, And there, forgot by all, expire.

Thus, whilst the difference thou shalt prove Betwixt a feign'd and real love, 10 Whilst he, more happy, but less true, Shall reap those joys I did pursue, And with those pleasures crownéd be By Fate, which Love design'd for me, Then thou, perhaps, thyself wilt find Cruel too long, or too soon kind.

[Song.] Not one of Stanley's worst.]

The Revenge.

RONSARD.

Fair Rebel to thyself and Time, Who laugh'st at all my tears, When thou hast lost thy youthful prime, And Age his trophy rears,

Weighing thy inconsiderate pride Thou shalt in vain accuse it, Why beauty am I now denied, Or knew not then to use it?

Then shall I wish, ungentle fair, Thou in like flames mayst burn; 10 Venus, if just, will hear my prayer, And I shall laugh my turn.

[The Revenge.] Not one of his best, even as a translation. The suspicion of flatness which occurs too often in him could not be more fatal than in connexion with Ronsard's famous and beautiful sonnet. But Stanley has handicapped himself almost inconceivably. He has thrown away the half-sad, half-scornful burst of the opening 'Quand vous serez bien vieille'--the vivid picture of the crone half boasting, half regretting her love and her disdain, by the flicker of fire and candle, to the listening handmaiden, and the final touch as to the use of life. In fact I have sometimes wondered whether he really meant this masterpiece.]

Song.

I will not trust thy tempting graces, Or thy deceitful charms; Nor pris'ner be to thy embraces, Or fetter'd in thy arms; No, Celia, no, not all thy art Can wound or captivate my heart.

I will not gaze upon thy eyes, Or wanton with thy hair, Lest those should burn me by surprise, Or these my soul ensnare; 10 Nor with those smiling dangers play, Or fool my liberty away.

Since then my wary heart is free, And unconfin'd as thine, If thou wouldst mine should captiv'd be, Thou must thine own resign, And gratitude may thus move more Than Love or Beauty could before.

[Song.] Another capital stanza-mould, especially in 1. The next is even better.

This Song is also in _Select Airs and Dialogues, set by Mr. Jeremy Savill_, 1659.]

Song.

No, I will sooner trust the wind, When falsely kind It courts the pregnant sails into a storm, And when the smiling waves persuade, Be willingly betray'd, Than thy deceitful vows or form.

Go, and beguile some easy heart With thy vain art; Thy smiles and kisses on those fools bestow, Who only see the calms that sleep 10 On this smooth flatt'ring deep, But not the hidden dangers know.

They that like me thy falsehood prove, Will scorn thy love. Some may, deceiv'd at first, adore thy shrine; But he that, as thy sacrifice, Doth willingly fall twice, Dies his own martyr, and not thine.

[Song.]

[Line: 12 the] thy 1647.]

To a Blind Man in Love.

MARINO.

Lover, than Love more blind, whose bold thoughts dare Fix on a woman is both young and fair! If Argus, with a hundred eyes, not one Could guard, hop'st thou to keep thine, who hast none?

[To a Blind Man in Love.] 2 The ellipsis of 'who' before 'is' is one of the few grammatical licences which are really awkward in poetry. In Oronta 1647, where this poem also appeared with two other translations from Marino, the reading is 'woman that is young'; and in 7 'Senses too'.]

Answer.

I'm blind, 'tis true, but, in Love's rules, defect Of sense is aided by the intellect; And senses by each other are supplied: The touch enjoys what's to the sight denied.

Song.

I Prithee let my heart alone, Since now 'tis rais'd above thee, Not all the beauty thou dost own, Again can make me love thee:

He that was shipwreck'd once before By such a Syren's call, And yet neglects to shun that shore, Deserves his second fall.

Each flatt'ring kiss, each tempting smile, Thou dost in vain bestow, 10 Some other lovers might beguile, Who not thy falsehood know.

But I am proof against all art. No vows shall e'er persuade me Twice to present a wounded heart To her that hath betray'd me.

Could I again be brought to love Thy form, though more divine, I might thy scorn as justly move, As now thou sufferest mine. 20

[Song.] Pretty, and the double rhymes in stanzas 1 and 4 well brought off.]

[Line: 7 1656 'the shore'.]

The Loss.

Yet ere I go, Disdainful Beauty, thou shall be So wretched, as to know What joys thou fling'st away with me.

A faith so bright, As Time or Fortune could not rust; So firm, that lovers might Have read thy story in my dust,

And crown'd thy name With laurel verdant as thy youth, 10 Whilst the shrill voice of Fame Spread wide thy beauty and my truth.

This thou hast lost; For all true lovers, when they find That my just aims were crost, Will speak thee lighter than the wind.

And none will lay Any oblation on thy shrine, But such as would betray Thy faith, to faiths as false as thine. 20

Yet, if thou choose On such thy freedom to bestow, Affection may excuse, For love from sympathy doth flow.

[The Loss.] Still good. But I have once more to demur to Miss Guiney's opinion that 'Thy' in l. 20, though found in all texts, should 'almost certainly' be 'Their'. In the first place, conjectural emendations in the teeth of text-agreement are never to be made without absolute necessity. In the second, the hackneyed observation about the less obvious reading is never so true as of the Caroline poets. In the third, this particular correction, if obvious in one sense, is but specious in another, and 'Their faith' will be found on examination to make less, not more, sense than 'Thy'. The meaning is, 'Such faith as thou mightest repose in them after being false to me', i.e. 'They would leave thee for other light-o'-loves'.]

The Self-Cruel.

Cast off, for shame, ungentle Maid, That misbecoming joy thou wear'st; For in my death, though long delay'd, Unwisely cruel thou appear'st. Insult o'er captives with disdain, Thou canst not triumph o'er the slain.

No, I am now no longer thine, Nor canst thou take delight to see Him whom thy love did once confine, Set, though by Death, at liberty; 10 For if my fall a smile beget, Thou gloriest in thy own defeat.

Behold how thy unthrifty pride Hath murder'd him that did maintain it! And wary souls, who never tried Thy tyrant beauty, will disdain it: But I am softer, and that me Thou wouldst not pity, pity thee.

[The Self-Cruel.] Merely 'Song' in 1647.

The observations in the preceding note apply to Miss Guiney's supposition that 'that' in the penultimate line is a misprint for 'though'. 'I pity thee in (or 'for') that thou wouldst not pity me.']

Song.

BY M. W. M.

Wert thou yet fairer than thou art, Which lies not in the power of Art; Or hadst thou in thine eyes more darts Than ever Cupid shot at hearts; Yet if they were not thrown at me, I would not cast a thought on thee,

I'd rather marry a disease, Than court the thing I cannot please; She that will cherish my desires, Must meet my flames with equal fires. 10 What pleasure is there in a kiss To him that doubts the heart's not his?

I love thee not because th' art fair, Softer than down, smoother than air; Nor for the Cupids that do lie In either corner of thine eye: Wouldst thou then know what it might be? 'Tis I love you, 'cause you love me.

[Song.] In 1647 the song itself is not given, and the title of Stanley's piece is 'In Answer to a Song, Wert thou much fairer than thou art, &c.' I do not know who Master W. M. was--possibly Walter Montagu, Abbé de Saint-Martin, whom we have met once or twice in commendatory poems, and who was of the Cavalier literary set.]

Answer.

Wert thou by all affections sought, And fairer than thou wouldst be thought; Or had thine eyes as many darts As thou believ'st they shoot at hearts; Yet if thy love were paid to me, I would not offer mine to thee.

I'd sooner court a fever's heat, Than her that owns a flame as great; She that my love will entertain, Must meet it with no less disdain; 10 For mutual fires themselves destroy, And willing kisses yield no joy.

I love thee not because alone Thou canst all beauty call thine own Nor doth my passion fuel seek In thy bright eye or softer cheek: Then, fairest, if thou wouldst know why I love thee, 'cause thou canst deny.

The Relapse.

Oh, turn away those cruel eyes, The stars of my undoing! Or Death, in such a bright disguise, May tempt a second wooing.

Punish their blindly impious pride, Who dare contemn thy glory; It was my fall that deified Thy name, and seal'd thy story.

Yet no new sufferings can prepare A higher praise to crown thee; 10 Though my first Death proclaim thee fair, My second will unthrone thee.

Lovers will doubt thou canst entice No other for thy fuel, And if thou burn one victim twice, Both think thee poor and cruel.

[The Relapse.] One of the author's best. Double rhymes often brought him luck. It was reprinted in Lawes's Airs and Dialogues, the Second Book, 1655, p. 7, with the heading 'He would not be tempted'. In 1647 called 'Song' only. This edition also reads in l. 5 'blind and impious', and in l. 7 'thy name' for 'my fall'. This last, which doubtless is a slip, seems to occur in some copies of 1651, but Brydges prints it correctly.]

To the Countess of S. with the Holy Court.

MADAM, Since every place you bless, the name This book assumes may justlier claim, (What more a court than where you shine? And where your soul, what more divine?) You may, perhaps, doubt at first sight, That it usurps upon your right; And praising virtues, that belong To you, in others, doth yours wrong; No; 'tis yourself you read, in all Perfections earlier ages call 10 Their own; all glories they e'er knew Were but faint prophecies of you. You then have here sole interest whom 'tis meant As well to entertain, as represent.

[To the Countess of S.] This lady has been supposed, probably enough, to be Dorothy Sidney or Spencer, Countess of Sunderland, and Waller's 'Sacharissa'. The Holy Court was a manual of devotion by the Jesuit Caussin, translated into English as early as 1626.]

Song.

DE VOITURE.

I languish in a silent flame; For she, to whom my vows incline, Doth own perfections so divine, That but to speak were to disclose her name If I should say that she the store Of Nature's graces doth comprise, The love and wonder of all eyes, Who will not guess the beauty I adore?

Or though I warily conceal The charms her looks and soul possess; 10 Should I her cruelty express, And say she smiles at all the pains we feel;

Among such suppliants as implore Pity, distributing her hate, Inexorable as their fate, Who will not guess the beauty I adore?

[Song.] Stanley was less impar congressus with Voiture than with Ronsard, and this is well done. The stanza is well framed and is different from the French ('Je me tais et me sens brûler', Chanson LIV, [Oe]uvres de Voiture, ed. Ubicini, Paris, 1855, ii. 336).]

Drawn for Valentine by the L. D. S.

Though 'gainst me Love and Destiny conspire, Though I must waste in an unpitied fire, By the same Deity, severe as fair, Commanded adoration and despair; Though I am mark'd for sacrifice, to tell The growing age what dangerous glories dwell In this bright dawn, who, when she spreads her rays, Will challenge every heart, and every praise; Yet she who to all hope forbids my claim, By Fortune's taught indulgence to my flame. 10 Great Queen of Chance! unjustly we exclude Thy power an interest in beatitude, Who, with mysterious judgement, dost dispense The bounties of unerring Providence, Whilst we, to whom the causes are unknown, Would style that blindness thine, which is our own; As kind in justice to thyself as me, Thou hast redeem'd thy name and votary; Nor will I prize this less for being thine, Nor longer at my destiny repine: 20 Counsel and choice are things below thy state; Fortune relieves the cruelties of Fate.

The Modest Wish.

BARCLAY.

Reach incense, boy! thou pious Flamen, pray! To genial Deities these rites we pay. Fly far from hence, such as are only taught To fear the Gods by guilt of crime or thought! This is my suit; grant it, Celestial Powers, If what my will affects, oppose not yours. First, pure before your altars may I stand, And practise studiously what you command; My parents' faith devoutly let me prize, Nor what my ancestors esteem'd, despise; 10 Let me not vex'd inquire (when thriving ill Depresseth good) why thunder is so still? No such ambitious knowledge trouble me; Those curious thoughts advance not Piety: Peaceful my house, in wife and children bless'd, Nor these beyond my fortunes be increas'd: None cozen me with Friendship's specious gloss; None dearly buy my friendship with their loss: To suits nor wars my quiet be betray'd; My quiet, to the Muses justly paid: 20 Want never force me court the rich with lies, And intermix my suit with flatteries: Let my sure friends deceive the tedious light, And my sound sleeps, with debts not broke, the night: Cheerful my board, my smiles shar'd by my wife, O Gods! yet mindful still of human life, To die nor let me wish nor fear; among My joys mix griefs, griefs that not last too long: My age be happy; and when Fate shall claim My thread of life, let me survive in fame. 30 Enough: the gods are pleas'd; the flames aspire, And crackling laurel triumphs in the fire.

E Catalectis Vet[erum] Poet[arum]

A small well-gotten stock and country seat I have, yet my content makes both seem great. My quiet soul to fears is not inur'd, And from the sins of Idleness secur'd. Others may seek the camp, others the town, And fool themselves with pleasure or renown; Let me, unminded in the common crowd, Live master of the time that I'm allow'd.

On the Edition of Mr. Fletcher's Works.

Fletcher (whose fame no age can ever waste; Envy of ours, and glory of the last) Is now alive again; and with his name His sacred ashes wak'd into a flame; Such as before did by a secret charm The wildest heart subdue, the coldest warm, And lend the ladies' eyes a power more bright, Dispensing thus to either, heat and light. He to a sympathy those souls betray'd, Whom Love or Beauty never could persuade; 10 And in each mov'd spectator could beget A real passion by a counterfeit: When first Bellario bled, what lady there Did not for every drop let fall a tear? And when Aspasia wept, not any eye But seem'd to wear the same sad livery. By him inspir'd, the feign'd Lucina drew More streams of melting sorrow than the true; But then the Scornful Lady did beguile Their easy griefs, and teach them all to smile. 20 Thus he affections could or raise or lay; Love, Grief, and Mirth thus did his charms obey: He Nature taught her passions to outdo, How to refine the old, and create new; Which such a happy likeness seem'd to bear, As if that Nature Art, Art Nature were. Yet all had nothing been, obscurely kept In the same urn wherein his dust hath slept, Nor had he ris' the Delphic wreath to claim, Had not the dying scene expir'd his name. 30 Oh the indulgent justice of this age, To grant the Press, what it denies the Stage! Despair our joy hath doubled; he is come Twice welcome by this post-liminium; His loss preserv'd him; they that silenc'd wit Are now the authors to eternize it: Thus poets are in spite of Fate reviv'd, And plays, by intermission, longer liv'd.

[On [the Edition of Mr.] Fletcher's Works.] The bracketed words omitted in 1647, when, as the book itself (the first folio of Beaumont and Fletcher) had just appeared, they were unnecessary. The variants are slight: 'could' and 'did' in lines 5 and 11 are changed over; in l. 19, 'doth' (again reflecting the immediate presentation). In l. 29 'rise': the form 'ris'' is recognized by Ben Jonson. In l. 30 Miss Guiney thinks 'not' 'clearly a misprint' for 'with'. But this is clearly a misunderstanding of 'expir'd', which is used with its proper transitive force as in Latin. 'Had not the dying stage [the suppressed and decadent theatre of 1647] expired [uttered with its passing breath] his name, the book would not have been published [and so made him rise and claim the crown].' ll. 31, 32 were omitted in the Beaumont and Fletcher Folio, 1647.

It can hardly be necessary to annotate the well-known characters of 'the twins' that Stanley introduces. Brydges, by printing 'Scornful Lady' without capitals, unnecessarily obscured one of them.]

To Mr. W. Hammond.

Thou best of friendship, knowledge, and of art! The charm of whose lov'd name preserves my heart From female vanities (thy name, which there, Till Time dissolves the fabric, I must wear), Forgive a crime which long my soul opprest, And crept by chance in my unwary breast, So great, as for thy pardon were unfit, And to forgive were worse than to commit, But that the fault and pain were so much one, The very act did expiate what was done. 10 I, who so often sported with the flame, Play'd with the Boy, and laugh'd at both as tame, Betray'd by Idleness and Beauty, fell At last in love, love, both the sin and hell: No punishment great as my fault esteem'd, But to be that which I so long had seem'd. Behold me such, a face, a voice, a lute, The sentence in a minute execute! I yield; recant; the faith which I before Denied, profess; the power I scorn'd, implore. 20 Alas, in vain! no prayers, no vows can bow Her stubborn heart, who neither will allow. But see how strangely what was meant no less Than torment, prov'd my greatest happiness: Delay, that should have sharpen'd, starv'd Desire, And Cruelty not fann'd, but quench'd my fire; Love bound me: now by kind Disdain set free, I can despise that Love as well as she. That sin to friendship I away have thrown: My heart thou mayst without a rival own, 30 While such as willingly themselves beguile, And sell away their freedoms for a smile, Blush to confess our joys as far above Their hopes, as Friendship's longer liv'd than Love.

[To Mr. W. Hammond.] In 1647, as usually, initials only. His relation (see Introduction) and the author of the poems in vol. ii. As in some other cases, this poem shows the nisus of the more or less stopped couplet--the way in which it was communicating energy to writers of the time even when they mainly belong to the older division.]

[Line: 30 1647 'Nor any flame, but what is thine, will own'.]

On Mr. Shirley's Poems.

When, dearest friend, thy verse doth re-inspire Love's pale decaying torch with brighter fire, Whilst everywhere thou dost dilate thy flame, And to the world spread thy Odelia's name, The justice of all ages must remit To her the prize of Beauty, thee of Wit. Then, like some skilful artist, that to wonder Framing a piece, displeas'd, takes it asunder, Thou Beauty dost depose, her charms deny, And all the mystic chains of Love untie: 10 Thus thy diviner Muse a power 'bove Fate May boast, that can both make and uncreate. Next thou call'st back to life that love-sick boy, To the kind-hearted nymphs less fair than coy, Who, by reflex beams burnt with vain desire, Did, Phoenix-like, in his own flames expire: But should he view his shadow drawn by thee, He with himself once more in love would be. Echo (who though she words pursue, her haste Can only overtake and stop the last) 20 Shall her first speech and human veil obtain To sing thy softer numbers o'er again. Thus, into dying poetry, thy Muse Doth full perfection and new life infuse; Each line deserves a laurel, and thy praise Asks not a garland, but a grove of bays; Nor can ours raise thy lasting trophies higher, Who only reach at merit to admire. But I must chide thee, friend: how canst thou be A patron, yet a foe to poetry? 30 For while thou dost this age to verse restore, Thou dost deprive the next of owning more; And hast so far e'en future aims surpast, That none dare write: thus being first and last, All, their abortive Muses will suppress, And poetry by this increase grow less.

[On Mr. Shirley's Poems.] 1647 initials (I. S.), as usual. The same remark applies here as to the last piece. Shirley's Poems (which include a reciprocal compliment to our author's) appear at the end of the sixth volume of Dyce's standard edition of his plays, and therefore are not included in this collection. They are, however, interesting, though there is nothing in them so good as the famous 'Glories of our blood and state'. 'Odelia' (a curious and rather suspicious name) appears pretty frequently in them. Shirley was a friend not merely of Stanley, but of Hammond and Prestwich (v. inf.) and others of the set. Some of the poems usually attributed to Carew appear to be really his. His Poems were published in 1646, a year before Stanley's.--There are some quite unimportant variants between 1647 and 1651: 'that' and 'who' in l. 7; 'a' and 'some' in l. 8; 'words' and 'speech' in l. 19; and l. 30 has the absurd reading 'A patron, yet a friend to poesy'. 1647 omits lines 31 and 32, and reads

Thou hast so far all future times surpassed

in l. 33. Miss Guiney suggests 'voice' for 'veil' in l. 21. But 'veil' is far more poetical as = The body of her disguise and humiliation after her aerial enfranchisement.]

On Mr. Sherburn's Translation of Seneca's Medea, and Vindication of the Author.

That wise philosopher, who had design'd To life the various passions of the mind, Did wrong'd Medea's jealousy prefer To entertain the Roman theatre; Both to instruct the soul, and please the sight, At once begetting horror and delight. This cruelty thou dost once more express, Though in a strange, no less becoming dress; And her revenge hast robb'd of half its pride, To see itself thus by itself outvied, 10 That boldest ages past may say, our times Can speak, as well as act their highest crimes. Nor was 't enough to do his scene this right, But what thou gav'st to us, with equal light Thou wouldst bestow on him, nor wert more just Unto the author's work, than to his dust; Thou dost make good his title, aid his claim, Both vindicate his poem and his name, So shar'st a double wreath; for all that we Unto the poet owe, he owes to thee. 20 Though change of tongues stol'n praise to some afford, Thy version hath not borrow'd, but restor'd.

[On Mr. Sherburn's Translation, &c.] Title in 1647 rather longer, but with initials, 'To Mr. E. S. on his Translation of Medea, with the other Tragedies of Seneca the Philosopher and vindicating of their Author'. Sherburn (afterwards Sir Edward) had the rather capriciously adjudged honour of appearing in Chalmers's Poets, which accounts for his absence here.]

[Line: 20 1647 reads 'author' for 'poet', an obvious overlooking of the occurrence of the word just before.]

On Mr. Hall's Essays.

Wits that matur'd by time have courted praise, Shall see their works outdone in these Essays; And blush to know, thy earlier years display A dawning, clearer than their brightest day. Yet I'll not praise thee, for thou hast outgrown The reach of all men's praises, but thine own. Encomiums to their objects are exact; To praise, and not at full, is to detract. And with most justice are the best forgot, For praise is bounded when the theme is not: 10 Since mine is thus confin'd, and far below Thy merit, I forbear it, nor will show How poor the autumnal pride of some appears, To the ripe fruit thy vernal season bears. Yet though I mean no praise, I come t'invite Thy forward aims still to advance their flight; Rise higher yet, what though thy spreading wreath Lessen to their dull sight who stay beneath? To thy full learning how can all allow Just praise, unless that all were learn'd as thou? 20 Go on in spite of such low souls, and may Thy growing worth know age, though not decay, Till thou pay back thy theft; and live to climb As many years as thou hast snatch'd from Time.

[On Mr. Hall's Essays.] 1647 'To Mr. I. H. on his Essays'. These were the much-praised Horae Vacivae (see Introduction to Hall, vol. ii). Besides the slight difference in general title the 1647 version divides itself. The first division consists of the first four lines only. A second, to Mr. I. H., appears elsewhere, beginning:

I'll not commend thee, for thou hast outgrown--

and going on as above, except that 'full' is foisted up from l. 8 to l. 7 ('full objects'), to the destruction of sense and metre.]

[Line: 3 earlier] early 1647.]

[Line: 13 'The pride of others' autumns poor appears' 1647.]

On S[ir] J[ohn] S[uckling], his Picture and Poems.

Suckling, whose numbers could invite Alike to wonder and delight, And with new spirit did inspire The Thespian scene and Delphic lyre, Is thus express'd in either part, Above the humble reach of Art. Drawn by the pencil, here you find His form, by his own pen, his mind.

[On Sir John Suckling, his Picture and Poems.] Initials only in original titles. These poems were the Fragmenta Aurea of 1646.]

The Union.

[Greek: Mia psychê duo sômata.]

BY MR. WILLIAM FAIRFAX.

As in the crystal centre of the sight, Two subtle beams make but one cone of light, Or when one flame twin'd with another is, They both ascend in one bright pyramis; Our spirits thus into each other flow, One in our being, one in what we know, In what we will, desire, dislike, approve, In what we love, and one is that pure love, As in a burning glass th' aërial flame, With the producing ray, is still the same: 10 We to Love's purest quintessence refin'd, Do both become one undefilèd mind. This sacred fire into itself converts Our yielding spirits, and our melting hearts, Till both our souls into one spirit run, So several lines are in their centre one. And when thy fair idea is imprest In the soft tablet of my easier breast, The sweet reflection brings such sympathy, That I my better self behold in thee; 20 And all perfections that in thee combine, By this resultance are entirely mine; Thy rays disperse my shades, who only live Bright in the lustre thou art pleas'd to give.

[The Union] ]

[Line: 12 undefiled] undivided 1647.]

[Line: 18 tablet] table 1647.]

Answer.

If we are one, dear friend! why shouldst thou be At once unequal to thyself and me? By thy release thou swell'st my debt the more, And dost but rob thyself to make me poor. What part can I have in thy luminous cone? What flame, since my love's thine, can call my own? The palest star is less the son of night, Who, but thy borrow'd, know no native light: Was 't not enough thou freely didst bestow The Muse, but thou wouldst give the laurel too? 10 And twice my aims by thy assistance raise, Conferring first the merit, then the praise? But I should do thee greater injury, Did I believe this praise were meant to me, Or thought, though thou hast worth enough to spare, T' enrich another soul, that mine should share. Thy Muse, seeming to lend, calls home her fame, And her due wreath doth in renouncing claim.

[Answer.] In l. 10 of the 'Answer' 1647 has 'must'. At the end of the poem in 1647 is the couplet

[Greek: Dysmore thêlymanôn glyky mê lege kentron erôtôn; Mounos TAS MOUSAS olbios esti THELÔN.] ]

Pythagoras, his Moral Rules.

First to immortal God thy duty pay, Observe thy vow, honour the saints: obey Thy prince and rulers, nor their laws despise: Thy parents reverence, and near allies: Him that is first in virtue make thy friend; And with observance his kind speech attend: Nor, to thy power, for light faults cast him by; Thy power is neighbour to necessity. These know, and with intentive care pursue; But Anger, Sloth, and Luxury subdue. 10 In sight of others, or thyself, forbear What 's ill; but of thyself stand most in fear. Let Justice all thy words and actions sway, Nor from the even course of reason stray; For know that all men are to die ordain'd, And riches are as quickly lost as gain'd. Crosses that happen by divine decree, If such thy lot, bear not impatiently. Yet seek to remedy with all thy care, And think the just have not the greatest share. 20 'Mongst men discourses good and bad are spread, Despise not those, nor be by these misled. If any some notorious falsehood say, Thou the report with equal judgement weigh. Let not men's smoother promises invite, Nor rougher threats from just resolves thee fright. If ought thou wouldst attempt, first ponder it, Fools only inconsiderate acts commit. Nor do what afterward thou mayst repent, First learn to know the thing on which th'art bent. 30 Thus thou a life shalt lead with joy replete. Nor must thou care of outward health forget; Such temperance use in exercise and diet, As may preserve thee in a settled quiet. Meats unprohibited, not curious, choose, Decline what any other may accuse: The rash expense of vanity detest, And sordidness: a mean in all is best. Hurt not thyself; act nought thou dost not weigh; And every business of the following day 40 As soon as by the morn awak'd, dispose; Nor suffer sleep at night thy eyes to close, Till thrice that diary thou hast o'errun; How slipt? what deeds, what duty left undone? Thus thy account summ'd up from first to last, Grieve for the ill, joy for what good hath past. These, if thou study, practise, and affect, To sacred Virtue will thy steps direct. Nature's eternal fountain I attest, Who did the soul with fourfold power invest. 50 Ere thou begin, pray well thy work may end, Then shall thy knowledge to all things extend, Divine and human; where enlarg'd, restrain'd; How Nature is by general likeness chain'd. Vain Hope nor Ignorance shall dim thy sight: Then shalt thou see that hapless men invite Their ills; to good, though present, deaf and blind; And few the cure of their misfortunes find: This only is the fate that harms, and rolls, Through miseries successive, human souls. 60 Within is a continual hidden fight, Which we to shun must study, not excite: Good God! how little trouble should we know, If thou to all men wouldst their genius show! But fear not thou; men come of heav'nly race, Taught by diviner Nature what t' embrace; Which, if pursued, thou all I nam'd shalt gain, And keep thy soul clear from thy body's stain: In time of prayer and cleansing meats denied Abstain from; thy mind's reins let reason guide: 70 Then rais'd to Heaven, thou from thy body free, A deathless saint, no more shalt mortal be.

[Pythagoras, his Moral Rules.] Stanley's three vocations of poet, translator, and philosopher come well together in this closing piece, and the prose commentary completes the exposition in little.]

The common received opinion that Pythagoras is not the author of these verses, seems to be defended by Chrysippus in Agellius, Plutarch, Laertius, and Iamblichus, who affirm that the rules and sense only were his, digested into verse by some of his scholars. But it is not improbable that they did no more than collect the verses, and so gave occasion to the mistake; for Laertius confesseth that Pythagoras used to deliver his precepts to his disciples in verse, one of which was

[Greek: Pê parebên? ti d' erexa? ti moi deon ouk etelesthê?] How slipt? what deeds, what duty left undone?

Of this opinion I believe Clemens Alexandrinus, who cites one of these lines under his name, and Proclus, when he calls him [Greek: tôn chrysôn epôn patera], the father of the golden verses.

[thy duty pay]

[Greek: Nomô hôs diakeitai]; though Hierocles in another sense read [Greek: diakeintai].

[thy vow]

[Greek: Horkos]. Hierocles, [Greek: têrêsis tôn theiôn nomôn], observance of religious rules.

[honour the saints]

[Greek: Hêrôas]. Laertius on these words explains souls whereof the air is full. Hierocles, angels, the sons of God, &c.

[Thy prince and rulers]

[Greek: Katachthonious daimonas], Hierocles, [Greek: Tous epi gês politeuesthai dynamenous]; capable of government.

[nor their laws despise]

[Greek: Ennoma rhezein]. Hierocles [Greek: Peithesthai hois apoleloipasin hêmin parangelmasi]; to obey their commands.

[with observance]

[Greek: Erga epôphelima], that is, [Greek: euergesia, therapeia]: yet, Hierocles otherwise.

[Thy power is neighbour to necessity]

Whatsoever necessity can force thee to bear, it is in thy power to bear voluntarily. If thy friend have wronged thee, how canst thou say, thou art not able to endure his company, when imprisonment might constrain thee to it? See Hierocles.

['Mongst men discourses good and bad are spread; Despise not these,[1] nor be by those misled.]

So Hierocles; Marcilius reads [Greek: ôn] (that is, [Greek: oun]) for [Greek: hôn] which best agrees with this sense.

[what any other may accuse]

[Greek: phthonon]. Hierocles interprets [Greek: mempsin], invidia, so taken sometimes by Cicero, Marcell.

[_And every business of the following day As soon as by the morn awak'd, dispose_]

These two lines I have inserted upon the authority of Porphyrius,

[Greek: Pro men oun tou hypnou tauta heautô ta epê epadein hekaston. Mêd' hypnon malakoisin], &c.

[Greek: Pro de tês exanastaseôs ekeina: Prôta men ex hypnoio meliphronos exypanistas Eu mala poipneuein hos' en hêmati erga telessei].

_He advised every one before he slept to repeat these verses to himself, Nor suffer sleep at night, &c. And before he rose these, And every business, &c._

How much this confirms Pythagoras the author, and his scholars but disposers of the verses (who, as it appears, forgot these two), is evident enough. The main argument they insist upon, who labour to prove the contrary, is derived from these words,

[_Nature's eternal fountain I attest, Who did the soul with fourfold power invest_]

Where Marcilius expounds [Greek: paradonta tetrakên][2] illum a quo scientiam [Greek: tetraktyos], acceperant, is autem doctor eorum Pythagoras, as if it were

_Him who the Tetrad to our souls exprest, (Nature's eternal fountain) I attest;_

And then takes pains to show that his scholars used to swear by him. But [Greek: paradidonai psychê mathêtôn] for [Greek: didaskein] is not without a little violence to [Greek: hametera psycha] (which makes Iamblic[h]us read [Greek: hameteras sophias]) Marcilius in this being the less excusable for confessing immediately, Animae vero nostrae dixerunt Pythagorei quoniam quaternarius animae numerus est, an explanation inconsistent with the other, but (as I conceive) truer; Macrobius expressly agreeth with it; Iuro tibi per eum qui dat animae nostrae quaternarium numerum; or, as others,

Per qui nostrae animae numerum dedit ipse quaternum.

By him who gave us life--God. In which sense, [Greek: pagan aennaou physeôs] much more easily will follow [Greek: paradonta] than [Greek: tetrakên]. The four powers of the soul are, mens, scientia, opinio, sensus, which Aristotle calls the four instruments of judgement, Hierocles, [Greek: kritikas dynameis]. The mind is compared to a unit, in that of many singulars it makes one. Science to the number two (which amongst the Pythagoreans is numerus infinitatis), because it proceeds from things certain and granted to uncertain and infinite. Opinion to three, a number of indefinite variety. Sense to four, as furnishing the other three. In this exposition I am the more easily persuaded to dissent from Plutarch, Hierocles, Iamblichus, and other interpreters, since they differ no less amongst themselves.

[Within is a continual hidden fight]

Betwixt Reason and Appetite.

[how little trouble]

As Marcilius reads, [Greek: Ê pollôn], &c.

[their genius]

[Greek: Hoiô daimoni], Hierocles expounds [Greek: hoia psychê]. Genius includes both.

[what t' embrace]

Hierocles [Greek: panta ta deonta], all that they ought to do.

[from the[3] body's stain]

Hierocles from the infection of the body.

[In times[3] of prayer]

[Greek: En te lysei psychês], Meditation. See Plato in Phaedone.

[and cleansing]

Which extended (saith Hierocles) [Greek: heôs sitiôn kai potôn kai tês holês diaitês tou thnêtou hêmôn sômatos] to meat and drink, &c.

[meats denied]

What they were is expressed by Laertius, Suidas, Hierocles, Agellius, &c. Hierocles affirms that in these words [Greek: hôn eipomen], he cites his sacred Apothegms: [Greek: ta de epi merous en tois hierois apophthegmasin, en aporrhêtô paredidoito], Concerning meat is particularly delivered in his holy Apothegms, that which was not lawful to make known to every one. Which is a great testimony that Pythagoras, and not any of his disciples, writ these verses; for if the author had cited him before in the third person (as they argue from [Greek: paradonta tetrakên][4]), he would have cited him now in the first.

[Footnote 1: 'These' and 'those' are originally 'crossed over' in text and note.]

[Footnote 2: [Greek: tetrakên] should, as indeed the context proclaims, be [Greek: tetraktyn].]

[Footnote 3: Slight alteration of text in notes again original.]

[Footnote 4: See above. The mistake is an odd one because the original oath is in hexameters and [Greek: tetraktyn] is absolutely necessary as the last word.]

FINIS.

POEMS APPEARING ONLY IN THE EDITION OF 1656

On this swelling bank, once proud Of its burden, Doris lay: Here she smil'd, and did uncloud Those bright suns eclipse the day; Here we sat, and with kind art She about me twin'd her arms, Clasp'd in hers my hand and heart, Fetter'd in those pleasing charms.

Here my love and joys she crown'd, Whilst the hours stood still before me, 10 With a killing glance did wound, And a melting kiss restore me. On the down of either breast, Whilst with joy my soul retir'd, My reclining head did rest, Till her lips new life inspir'd. Thus, renewing of these sights Doth with grief and pleasure fill me, And the thought of these delights Both at once revive and kill me! 20

Dear, fold me once more in thine arms! And let me know Before I go There is no bliss but in those charms. By thy fair self I swear That here, and only here, I would for ever, ever stay: But cruel Fate calls me away.

How swiftly the light minutes slide! The hours that haste 10 Away thus fast By envious flight my stay do chide. Yet, Dear, since I must go, By this last kiss I vow, By all that sweetness which dwells with thee, Time shall move slow, till next I see thee.

The lazy hours move slow, The minutes stay; Old Time with leaden feet doth go, And his light wings hath cast away. The slow-pac'd spheres above Have sure releas'd Their guardians, and without help move, Whilst that the very angels rest.

The number'd sands that slide Through this small glass, 10 And into minutes Time divide, Too slow each other do displace; The tedious wheels of light No faster chime, Than that dull shade which waits on night: For Expectation outruns Time.

How long, Lord, must I stay? How long dwell here? O free me from this loathèd clay! Let me no more these fetters wear! 20 With far more joy Shall I resign my breath, For, to my griev'd soul, not to die Is every minute a new death.

[The three pieces which appear in 1656 only have no great character, and were very likely written for Gamble to tunes--seldom a very satisfactory process.]

* * *

* * * * *

POEMS,

ELEGIES,

PARADOXES,

and

SONNETS.

LONDON.

Printed by J. G. for Rich: Marriot and Hen: Herringman, and sold in St. Dunstans Churchyard Fleet-street, and at the New-Exchange.

1657.

INTRODUCTION TO HENRY KING.

Among the numerous possible extensions of that practice of writing Dialogues of the Dead which has been, at various times, rather unusually justified of its practitioners, not the least tempting would be one which should embody the expectations and the disappointment of the pious Bishop who held the see of Chichester in Fuller's Bad and Better Times--long afterwards, between 1843 and 1888. In the former year, as most students of English poetry know, the late Archdeacon Hannah, then a young Fellow of Lincoln College, published a most admirable edition of part of King's Poems; and announced that the rest must be left for a separate volume 'which will be published without delay'. He lived forty-five years longer, and 'the rest' was by no means an extensive one; but, whatever may have been the reason,[1] the second volume never appeared, while, to complete the misfortune, King's one famous thing, the beautiful

Tell me no more how fair she is--

is not in the first. Nor has any one since attempted to supply the deficiency,[2] though that benefactor of the lovers of Caroline poetry, Mr. J. R. Tutin, included a fifteen-page selection of King's poems, with Donne and Walton, in one of his 'Orinda Booklets' (Hull, 1904) some little time after the plan of this collection was announced, and when its first volume was passing through the press.

There must have been many readers who, like the present writer long enough ago, have felt a sensation of mingled amazement and chagrin on buying Dr. Hannah's book and not finding 'Tell me no more' in it. For that poem, though in certain 'strange and high' qualities it is the inferior of the best jets of the Caroline genius, is one of the most faultless and perfect things in this or indeed in any period of English poetry, and may be said to impart the Caroline essence in a form that can be (in the medical sense) 'borne' by all who have any feeling for poetry at all, as hardly anything else does. It enlists, with unerring art, the peculiar virtue of the metre--that of expressing settled but not violent hopelessness--which Cowper afterwards utilized, more terribly but hardly more skilfully, in 'The Castaway'. It has the 'metaphysical' fancifulness of thought and diction, tempered to a reasonable but not an excessive degree 'below proof' and so fit for general consumption. No one who possesses literary 'curiosity'--in the good old sense, not the degenerate modern one--can be indifferent to seeing what else the author of this could do.

It may be frankly and at once admitted that he has nothing exactly to match it. The once even more famous--and still perhaps not much less famous--Sic Vita, is not certainly his; and, though a fine thing, is very distinctly open to the metaphysical reproach of playing with its subject too much--of that almost wilfully mechanical and factory-like conceit-mongering which reaches its extreme in Cleveland. If it is King's, 'The Dirge' is a sort of extended handling of it--less epigrammatic but more poetical, and brought down again to that via media of metaphysicality which is King's special path. He is, in fact, a sort of Longfellow of this particular style and school of poetry--from the other side; a sort of Donne in usum vulgi. 'The Exequy' and 'The Elegy', 'Silence' and 'Brave Flowers', are all in this middle way; and perhaps his treading of it may be a reason why he has been comparatively neglected--the great vulgar not being grateful for poetry which never can fully please it, and the small wanting something more concentrated and 'above proof'. But even if he had not lacked complete presentment so long, such a collection as this would be manifestly incomplete without him. It has not, however, been thought necessary to include his verse translations of the Psalms, which form a separate volume, not much more successful than most of the attempts at that impossible task. With the admirable English of the Authorized or the Prayer-Book Versions at choice, and the admirable Latin of the Vulgate to fall back upon, nobody can want stuff like

Earth is the Lord's with her increase, And all that there have place: He founded it upon the Seas, And made the floods her base.[3]

Henry King's private and public history (for he had more to do with public affairs than can have been at all comfortable to himself) had no very obvious connexion with poetry, except in so far as circumstances fed what was clearly a special taste of his for elegiac writing. He was born in 1592 at Worminghall in Bucks., for some time the abode of a family which, whether its tracing to 'the ancient Kings [by function, not name merely] of Devonshire' was fiction or fact, was, and had been for generations, highly respectable. The Kings had recently addicted themselves very specially to education at Westminster and Christ Church (there are said to have been five of the same family on the books of the House at one time) and to the clerical profession. The poet-bishop was the eldest son of John King, Prebendary of St. Paul's and Chaplain to the Queen, himself a verse-writer, and after having been Dean of Christ Church, Bishop of London from 1611 to 1621. The son--if not without some nepotism yet with results which fully justified it--became himself Prebendary of St. Paul's (as did a brother, who was still younger, in the same year) when he was only four-and-twenty; and successively received the archdeaconry of Colchester (1617); a canonry at Christ Church (1624); and the deanery of Rochester (1639). He had then the good and evil luck to be one of the large batch of Bishops made or translated by Charles on the very eve of the Rebellion. He never sat in the House of Lords before its suppression; and he had taken possession of his see but a short time when he was rabbled out of his palace at Chichester and plundered of his property, contrary to the terms of surrender of the City, by Waller's soldiers. He was also ousted from the rich living of Petworth, usually held in commendam with the (poor) bishopric of Chichester, by that particularly pestilent Puritan, Francis Cheynell. He seems to have passed great part of the Interregnum with the Salters of Richkings, near Langley in Bucks. (a house well famed for hospitality at different times and under different owners and names[4]), and at the Restoration he recovered his preferments, Edmund Calamy tertius having the extraordinary impudence to state that Cheynell was 'put out to make room for King'. And he held them for nearly a decade longer, dying in 1669. He left children and also grandchildren, one of whom, Elizabeth, seems to have married Isaac Houblon, Pepys's 'handsome man'.

Despite King's persecutions by the Puritans he was accused of a leaning to Puritanism, as his father had been before him,[5] but seemingly without much foundation. He appears to have been a sound Churchman, and a very good man in every way, though with a slight tendency (not to be too harshly judged by those who have lived in quieter times) to 'grizzle', as it is familiarly called, over his tribulations. He was also what was termed at the time 'a painful preacher' and a popular one. Pepys, it is true, did not like him when he first heard him, and afterwards thought a sermon of his 'mean'. But between these two he describes a third as 'good and eloquent'; and Samuel's judgements on such matters, always unliterary, were also much conditioned by circumstances, and by the curious remnant of Puritan leaven which always remained in that very far from pure lump.

King's poems must, from various signs, have been much handed about in manuscript; but how they came to be collected and published in 1657 is quite unknown. They were at first attributed by some to his brother Philip; and a reprint, or perhaps merely the remainder with a fresh title-page, in 1700 actually attributed them to Ben Jonson, which was going far even in a period which had seen Kirkman and was to see Curll.[6] One or two pieces besides Sic Vita are doubtful, and one or two more certainly not his; but on the whole the collection seems to be fairly trustworthy, from Dr. Hannah's comparison of it with MS. copies. And it rarely offers cruces of interpretation.

As to the origin and general character of the pieces there is nothing surprising about it either. King belonged to a time when, fortunately, churchmanship, scholarship, and literature were almost inseparably connected; and by accident or preference he seems, all his life, to have been thrown or drawn into the society of men of letters. He was a friend if not a 'son' of Ben Jonson; he was an intimate of Donne's, and one of the recipients of the famous blood-stone seals; he was for more than forty years (as he has himself recorded in a letter to Walton) a friend of 'honest Isaac' [sic]. And if his middle days were politically unhappy, they, and still more his earlier, were poetically fortunate. How, and in what degree, he caught the wind as it blew has been partly indicated above: the text should show the rest.[7]

[Footnote 1: I have suggested below that some slight scruples of pudibundity may have had their influence; but if they had been serious the Archdeacon would hardly have promised this rest.]

[Footnote 2: Until quite recently, and after this present edition had been long printed, one appeared in America (Yale University Press, 1914) by Lawrence Mason, Ph.D.]

[Footnote 3: I think this will justify the critic (whoever he was) whose sentence--'quaint mediocrity and inappropriate metre'--offended Hannah's editorial chivalry as 'very unjust'. Indeed, I should make it stronger and say 'irritating inadequacy alike in metre and phrase'.]

[Footnote 4: Especially that of Percy Lodge in the eighteenth century, when it was the Dowager Duchess of Somerset's: see Shenstone, Lady Luxborough, and Southey's Doctor, chaps. 107 and 108. Between the times it had belonged to Bathurst, and was then also a home of men of letters.]

[Footnote 5: With the complementary and not unusual libel that he died a Romanist.]

[Footnote 6: Between the two dates there had been a fresh issue in 1664, with four new elegies. But it has been doubted whether even this was a new edition.]

[Footnote 7: The text of the following poems will be found, as far as Hannah's edition goes, to differ not greatly from his; but it has been collated with the originals in print and MS. by myself and, more carefully still, by Mr. Percy Simpson. The remaining poems (including the fourth or 'King Charles' Elegy added in 1664, which Hannah did not give) are adapted in the same way from direct photographic copies of the originals--collated where necessary. The variants of Sic Vita which the Archdeacon collected are of such interest and so characteristic of seventeenth-century poetry that it seemed desirable to reproduce them.

It may perhaps be added that the 1657 text is very carefully and well printed, requiring so little modernization as practically to justify the standard adopted in this collection. To modernize Chaucer or Chatterton has always seemed to me, though from slightly different points of view, a grievous error or worse. But to show how close, when scholarly writing met careful printing, the result even before the Restoration was to what it would have been to-day, I have printed the opening poem exactly as it originally stood, and have drawn attention in a note to the fewness of the differences. Because other typographers, not deacons in their craft, and confronted perhaps with copy as bad as, say, mine, plus the eccentric ethelorthography of the period, lavished italics and capitals and superfluous e's, and strappadoed the spelling, I cannot see why the eyes of a present-day reader should be unnecessarily vexed.--Hannah's edition, as far as it goes, can hardly be too well spoken of by any one who does not think that, in order to magnify himself, it is necessary to belittle his predecessors. One cannot but regret that he did not (as he might most easily have done, even in the single volume) complete his work. As it is, I am deeply indebted to him. I have, however, restored the order of the original, which he altered partly to get chronological sequence in the Elegies, &c., and partly to make subject-heads for his groups--a proceeding which to me is rarely satisfactory. But I have borrowed his useful datings of the individual pieces under their titles.]

Table of Contents.

Page 1. Sonnet. The Double Rock 169 2. The Vow-Breaker 169 3. Upon a Table-Book presented to a Lady 170 4. To the same Lady upon Mr. Burton's Melancholy 170 5. The Farewell 170 6. A Blackmoor Maid wooing a fair Boy: sent to the Author by Mr. Hen. Rainolds 171 7. The Boy's Answer to the Blackmoor 171 8. To a Friend upon Overbury's Wife given to her 172 9. Upon the same 172 10. To A. R. upon the same 172 11. An Epitaph on Niobe turned to Stone 172 12. Upon a Braid of Hair in a Heart sent by Mrs. E. H. 173 13. Sonnet. 'Tell me no more how fair she is' 173 14. Sonnet. 'Were thy heart soft as thou art fair' 174 15. Sonnet. 'Go, thou that vainly' 174 16. Sonnet. To Patience 174 17. Silence. A Sonnet 175 18. Love's Harvest 175 19. The Forlorn Hope 176 20. The Retreat 176 21. Sonnet. 'Tell me, you stars' 177 22. Sonnet. 'I prithee turn that face away' 177 23. Sonnet. 'Dry those fair', &c. 177 24. Sonnet. 'When I entreat', &c. 178 25. To a Lady who sent me a copy of verses at my going to bed 178 26. [The Pink. Omitted: not King's.] 27. To his Friends of Christ Church, &c. 179 28. The Surrender 180 29. The Legacy 181 30. The Short Wooing 182 31. St. Valentine's Day 183 32. To his unconstant Friend 184 33. Madam Gabrina, Or the Ill-favour'd Choice 185 34. The Defence 187 35. To One demanding why Wine sparkles 188 36. By occasion of the Young Prince his happy Birth 188 37. Upon the King's happy return from Scotland 190 38. To the Queen at Oxford 192 39. A Salutation of His Majesty's ship the Sovereign 193 40. An Epitaph on his most honoured friend, Richard, Earl of Dorset 194 41. The Exequy 195 42. The Anniverse. An Elegy 198 43. On Two Children, &c. 198 44. A Letter 199 45. An Acknowledgement 201 46. The Acquittance 202 47. The Forfeiture 202 48. The Departure. An Elegy 203 49. Paradox. That it is best for a young Maid to marry an Old Man 204 50. Paradox. That Fruition destroys Love 206 51. The Change 209 52. To my sister Anne King, &c. 210 53. An Elegy upon the immature loss of the most virtuous Lady Anne Rich 210 54. An Elegy upon Mrs. Kirk, unfortunately drowned in Thames 212 55. An Elegy upon the death of Mr. Edward Holt 213 56. To my dead friend Ben Jonson 214 57. An Elegy upon Prince Henry's death 216 58. An Elegy upon S. W. R. 217 59. An Elegy upon the Lord Bishop of London, John King 217 60. Upon the death of my ever desired friend, Doctor Donne, Dean of Paul's 218 61. An Elegy upon the most victorious King of Sweden, Gustavus Adolphus 220 62. To my noble and judicious friend Sir Henry Blount upon his Voyage 223 63. To my honoured friend Mr. George Sandys 226 64. The Woes of Esay 230 65. An Essay on Death and a Prison 232 66. The Labyrinth 234 67. Being waked out of my sleep 235 68. Sic Vita 236 69. My Midnight Meditation 238 70. A Penitential Hymn 238 71. An Elegy occasioned by Sickness 239 72. The Dirge 241 73. An Elegy occasioned by the loss of the most incomparable Lady Stanhope, &c. 242

POEMS NOT INCLUDED IN THE EDITION OF 1657 BUT IN THAT OF 1664:

74. An Elegy upon my best friend, L. K. C. 244 75. On the Earl of Essex 245 76. An Elegy on Sir Charles Lucas and Sir George Lisle 246 77. An Elegy upon the most incomparable King Charles the First 255

POEMS IN MANUSCRIPT:

78. A Second Elegy on the Countess of Leinster 267 79. Epigram. From Petronius Arbiter, c. 14 267 80. Epigram. From Martial, i. 14 268 81. Epigram. From Petronius Arbiter, c. 83 268 82. Epigram. From Petronius Arbiter 268 83. Epigram. Pro captu, &c. 268 84. Upon the Untimely Death of J. K., first born of H. K. 269 85. The Complaint 269 86. On his Shadow 270 87. Wishes to my Son, John 272 88. A Contemplation upon Flowers 273

The Publishers to the Author.

SIR,

It is the common fashion to make some address to the Readers, but we are bold to direct ours to you, who will look on this publication with anger, which others must welcome into the world with joy.

The Lord Verulam comparing ingenious authors to those who had orchards ill neighboured, advised them to publish their own labours, lest others might steal the fruit: Had you followed his example, or liked the advice, we had not thus trespassed against your consent, or been forced to an apology, which cannot but imply a fault committed. The best we can say for ourselves is, that if we have injured you, it is merely in your own defence, preventing the present attempts of others, who to their theft would (by their false copies of these Poems) have added violence, and some way have wounded your reputation.

Having been long engaged on better contemplations, you may, perhaps, look down on these Juvenilia (most of them the issues of your youthful Muse) with some disdain; and yet the courteous reader may tell you with thanks, that they are not to be despised, being far from abortive, nor to be disowned, because they are both modest and legitimate. And thus if we have offered you a view of your younger face, our hope is you will behold it with an unwrinkled brow, though we have presented the mirror against your will.

We confess our design hath been set forward by friends that honour you, who, lest the ill publishing might disfigure these things from whence you never expected addition to your credit (sundry times endeavoured and by them defeated) furnished us with some papers which they thought authentic; we may not turn their favour into an accusation, and therefore give no intimation of their names, but wholly take the blame of this hasty and immethodical impression upon ourselves, being persons at a distance, who are fitter to bear it than those who are nearer related. In hope of your pardon we remain,

Your most devoted servants,

RICH. MARRIOT.

HEN. HERRINGMAN.

POEMS

Printed in 1657.

Sonnet. The Double Rock.

Since thou hast view'd some Gorgon, and art grown A solid stone: To bring again to softness thy hard heart Is past my art. Ice may relent to water in a thaw; But stone made flesh Loves Chymistry ne're saw.

Therefore by thinking on thy hardness, I Will petrify; And so within our double Quarryes Wombe, Dig our Loves Tombe. 10 Thus strangely will our difference agree; And, with our selves, amaze the world, to see How both Revenge and Sympathy consent To make two Rocks each others Monument.

[The Double Rock.] In this very typical metaphysicality of a good second water (see note on Introduction), it will be observed that there is nothing archaic or irregular in the spelling except the usual 'ne're' for 'ne'er', the insertion of the three superfluous e's in lines 9, 10, and at most two or three gratuitous capitals with, if anybody pleases, the omission of the apostrophe for the possessive in ll. 6, 9, 10, and 14. 'Chymistry' I should have kept, of course, even if I had altered these others.]

The Vow-Breaker.

When first the magic of thine eye, Usurp'd upon my liberty, Triumphing in my heart's spoil, thou Didst lock up thine in such a vow; When I prove false, may the bright day Be governed by the Moon's pale ray! (As I too well remember.) This Thou said'st, and seal'dst it with a kiss.

O Heavens! and could so soon that tie Relent in slack apostacy? 10 Could all thy oaths, and mortgag'd trust, Vanish? like letters form'd in dust Which the next wind scatters. Take heed, Take heed, Revolter; know this deed Hath wrong'd the world, which will fare worse By thy example than thy curse.

Hide that false brow in mists. Thy shame Ne'er see light more, but the dim flame Of funeral lamps. Thus sit and moan, And learn to keep thy guilt at home. 20 Give it no vent; for if again Thy Love or Vows betray more men, At length (I fear) thy perjur'd breath Will blow out day, and waken Death.

[Line: 9 Orig. 'Ty', no doubt on the Spenserian principle of eye-rhyme. This and some others of the shorter poems which follow have been found by Mr. Thorn-Drury in miscellanies of the period, not merely well-known ones like Wits' Recreations (1641), but more obscure collections such as Parnassus Biceps, 1651, and Wits' Interpreter, 1655. The usual variants occur; but they are seldom, if ever, me judice of interest. One or two I have borrowed with acknowledgement.]

Upon a Table-Book presented to a Lady.

When your fair hand receives this little book You must not there for prose or verses look. Those empty regions which within you see, May by yourself planted and peopled be: And though we scarce allow your sex to prove Writers (unless the argument be Love); Yet without crime or envy you have room Here, both the scribe and author to become.

[Upon a Table-Book, &c.] The title in one of Hannah's MS. copies has 'Noble Lady'. The person addressed does not seem to have been identified.]

To the same Lady upon Mr. Burton's Melancholy.

If in this Glass of Humours you do find The passions or diseases of your mind, Here without pain, you safely may endure, Though not to suffer, yet to read your cure. But if you nothing meet you can apply, Then, ere you need, you have a remedy. And I do wish you never may have cause To be adjudg'd by these fantastic laws; But that this book's example may be known, By others' Melancholy, not your own. 10

[Line: 6 MS. 'before you need'--perhaps better. The lady to whom the Anatomy was likely to be congenial must have been worth knowing.]

The Farewell.

Splendidis longùm valedico nugis.

Farewell, fond Love, under whose childish whip, I have serv'd out a weary prenti'ship; Thou that hast made me thy scorn'd property, To doat on rocks, but yielding loves to fly: Go, bane of my dear quiet and content, Now practise on some other patient.

Farewell, false Hope, that fann'd my warm desire Till it had rais'd a wild unruly fire, Which nor sighs cool, nor tears extinguish can, Although my eyes out-flow'd the Ocean: 10 Forth of my thoughts for ever, Thing of Air, Begun in error, finish'd in despair.

Farewell, vain World, upon whose restless stage 'Twixt Love and Hope I have fool'd out my age; Henceforth, ere sue to thee for my redress, I'll woo the wind, or court the wilderness; And buried from the day's discovery, Study a slow yet certain way to die.

My woful monument shall be a cell, The murmur of the purling brook my knell; 20 My lasting epitaph the rock shall groan: Thus when sad lovers ask the weeping stone, What wretched thing does in that centre lie? The hollow Echo will reply, 'twas I.

[The Farewell.] The following are the variants of Malone MS. 22:

Lines: 4-6

To doat on those that lov'd not and to fly Love that woo'd me. Go, bane of my content, And practise ... ]

[Line: 21

And for an epitaph the rock shall groan Eternally: if any ask the stone. ]

[Line: 23 centre] compass.]

_A Blackmoor Maid wooing a fair Boy: sent to the Author by Mr. Hen. Rainolds._

Stay, lovely boy, why fly'st thou me That languish in these flames for thee? I'm black, 'tis true: why so is Night, And Love doth in dark shades delight. The whole world, do but close thine eye, Will seem to thee as black as I; Or ope 't, and see what a black shade Is by thine own fair body made, That follows thee where'er thou go; (O who, allow'd, would not do so?) 10 Let me for ever dwell so nigh, And thou shall need no other shade than I. Mr. Hen. Rainolds.

The Boy's Answer to the Blackmoor.

Black maid, complain not that I fly, When Fate commands antipathy: Prodigious might that union prove, Where Night and Day together move, And the conjunction of our lips Not kisses make, but an eclipse; In which the mixed black and white Portends more terror than delight. Yet if my shadow thou wilt be, Enjoy thy dearest wish: but see 10 Thou take my shadow's property, That hastes away when I come nigh: Else stay till death hath blinded me, And then I will bequeath myself to thee.

[A Blackmoor Maid, and Answer.] I do not know whether the exact connexion between these two poems and Cleveland's 'Fair Nymph scorning a Black Boy' (v. sup., p. 42) has ever been discussed. But if 'Mr. Hen. Rainolds' is Drayton's friend, the verses printed above must have the priority, for nothing seems to be known of him after 1632.

In Rawlinson MS. 1092, fol. 271, there are curious versions of these poems (the first is ascribed to William Strode), inverting the parts 'A black boy in love with a fair maid', and 'The fair maid's answer'.]

To a Friend upon Overbury's Wife given to her.

I know no fitter subject for your view Than this, a meditation ripe for you, As you for it. Which, when you read, you'll see What kind of wife yourself will one day be: Which happy day be near you, and may this Remain with you as earnest of my wish; When you so far love any, that you dare Venture your whole affection on his care, May he for whom you change your virgin-life Prove good to you, and perfect as this Wife. 10

[To a Friend upon Overbury's Wife, &c.] King seems to have been fond of giving this popular production as a present, for the first of the three poems is certainly not addressed to the recipient of the others, and it seems probable that 2 and 3 are also independent. Hannah, without giving any reason, save the initials, suggests that 'A. R.' was Lady Anne Rich (v. inf.).]

Upon the same.

Madam, who understands you well would swear, That you the Life, and this your Copy were.

To A. R. upon the same.

Not that I would instruct or tutor you What is a wife's behest, or husband's due, Give I this Widow-Wife. Your early date Of knowledge makes such precepts slow and late. This book is but your glass, where you shall see What yourself are, what other wives should be.

[To A. R.]

[Line: 3 Widow-] Overbury himself being dead.]

An Epitaph on Niobe turned to Stone.

This pile thou seest built out of flesh, not stone, Contains no shroud within, nor mould'ring bone.

This bloodless trunk is destitute of tomb Which may the soul-fled mansion enwomb.

This seeming sepulchre (to tell the troth) Is neither tomb nor body, and yet both.

Upon a Braid of Hair in a Heart sent by Mrs. E. H.

In this small character is sent My Love's eternal monument. Whilst we shall live, know this chain'd heart Is our affection's counterpart. And if we never meet, think I Bequeath'd it as my legacy.

[Upon a Braid of Hair, &c.] There is something rather out of the common way about this little piece. King married early and his wife died after a few years. How he loved her The Exequy and The Anniverse will tell in a few pages. But her initials were A. B. (Anne Berkeley) not E. H. On the other hand, his sister _E_lizabeth married Edward _H_olt, groom of the bedchamber to Charles I, who died in attendance on his master (see Elegy on him, inf.). The verses might be fraternal, and are certainly sincere.]

Sonnet.

Tell me no more how fair she is, I have no mind to hear The story of that distant bliss I never shall come near: By sad experience I have found That her perfection is my wound.

And tell me not how fond I am To tempt a daring Fate, From whence no triumph ever came, But to repent too late: 10 There is some hope ere long I may In silence dote myself away.

I ask no pity, Love, from thee, Nor will thy justice blame, So that thou wilt not envy me The glory of my flame: Which crowns my heart whene'er it dies, In that it falls her sacrifice.

[Tell me no more, &c.] The heading of this famous thing as 'Sonnet' has, of course, nothing surprising in it: in fact, the successive attachment of the title to five poems in a batch here and to four more a little lower down--no one of which is a quatorzain, and hardly two of which agree in form--is a capital example of the looseness with which that title was used. MS. copies appear to have 'Sonnet' with no particular addition in some cases.

On 'Tell me no more' itself see Introduction. The last two lines are, as they should be, the finest part--with the fullness of contrasted vowel-sound in 'crowns', 'heart', 'e'er', and 'dies', and the emphasis of 'her'.]

Sonnet.

Were thy heart soft as thou art fair, Thou wer't a wonder past compare: But frozen Love and fierce disdain By their extremes thy graces stain. Cold coyness quenches the still fires Which glow in lovers' warm desires; And scorn, like the quick lightning's blaze, Darts death against affections gaze. O Heavens, what prodigy is this When Love in Beauty buried is! 10 Or that dead pity thus should be Tomb'd in a living cruelty.

[Were thy heart, &c.] This is not much inferior except as concerns the metre.]

Sonnet.

Go, thou that vainly dost mine eyes invite To taste the softer comforts of the night, And bid'st me cool the fever of my brain In those sweet balmy dews which slumber pain; Enjoy thine own peace in untroubled sleep, Whilst my sad thoughts eternal vigils keep.

O couldst thou for a time change breasts with me, Thou in that broken glass shouldst plainly see A heart which wastes in the slow smoth'ring fire Blown by Despair, and fed by false Desire, 10 Can only reap such sleeps as sea-men have, When fierce winds rock them on the foaming wave.

[Go, thou that, &c.] What made the excellent Archdeacon-to-be select this in preference to 'Tell me no more' as a specimen of King's presumed 'juvenile productions' it is difficult to discover. But

Blown by Despair, and fed by false Desire

is certainly a fine line.]

Sonnet. To Patience.

Down, stormy passions, down; no more Let your rude waves invade the shore Where blushing reason sits, and hides Her from the fury of your tides. Fit only 'tis, where you bear sway, That fools or frantics do obey; Since judgement, if it not resists, Will lose itself in your blind mists.

Fall easy, Patience, fall like rest Whose soft spells charm a troubled breast: 10 And where those rebels you espy, O in your silken cordage tie Their malice up! so shall I raise Altars to thank your power, and praise The sovereign vertue of your balm, Which cures a tempest by a calm.

[To Patience.] So also he gave this very commonplace 'production' and the next, which is a little better.]

Silence. A Sonnet.

Peace, my heart's blab, be ever dumb, Sorrows speak loud without a tongue: And, my perplexed thoughts, forbear To breathe yourselves in any ear: 'Tis scarce a true or manly grief, Which gads abroad to find relief.

Was ever stomach that lack'd meat Nourish'd by what another eat? Can I bestow it, or will woe Forsake me, when I bid it go? 10 Then I'll believe a wounded breast May heal by shrift, and purchase rest.

But if, imparting it, I do Not ease myself, but trouble two, 'Tis better I alone possess My treasure of unhappiness: Engrossing that which is my own No longer than it is unknown.

If silence be a kind of death, He kindles grief who gives it breath; 20 But let it rak'd in embers lie, On thine own hearth 'twill quickly die: And spite of fate, that very womb Which carries it, shall prove its tomb.

Love's Harvest.

Fond Lunatic forbear, why dost thou sue For thy affection's pay ere it is due? Love's fruits are legal use; and therefore may Be only taken on the marriage day. Who for this interest too early call, By that exaction lose the principal.

Then gather not those immature delights, Until their riper autumn thee invites. He that abortive corn cuts off his ground, No husband but a ravisher is found: 10 So those that reap their love before they wed, Do in effect but cuckold their own bed.

[Love's Harvest.]

[Lines: 11, 12, Malone MS. 22 has the singular: 'So he', &c.]

The Forlorn Hope.

How long, vain Hope, dost thou my joys suspend? Say! must my expectation know no end? Thou wast more kind unto the wand'ring Greek Who did ten years his wife and country seek: Ten lazy winters in my glass are run, Yet my thought's travail seems but new begun.

Smooth quicksand which the easy world beguiles, Thou shall not bury me in thy false smiles. They that in hunting shadows pleasure take, May benefit of thy illusion make. 10 Since thou hast banish'd me from my content I here pronounce thy final banishment.

Farewell, thou dream of nothing! thou mere voice! Get thee to fools that can feed fat with noise: Bid wretches mark'd for death look for reprieve, Or men broke on the wheel persuade to live. Henceforth my comfort and best hope shall be, By scorning Hope, ne'er to rely on thee.

[The Forlorn Hope.]

[Line: 10 MS. 'illusions'--perhaps better.]

[Line: 14 can] MS. 'will'.]

The Retreat.

Pursue no more (my thoughts!) that false unkind, You may as soon imprison the North-wind; Or catch the lightning as it leaps; or reach The leading billow first ran down the breach; Or undertake the flying clouds to track In the same path they yesterday did rack. Then, like a torch turn'd downward, let the same Desire which nourish'd it, put out your flame.

Lo! thus I do divorce thee from my breast, False to thy vow, and traitor to my rest! 10 Henceforth thy tears shall be (though thou repent) Like pardons after execution sent. Nor shalt thou ever my love's story read, But as some epitaph of what is dead. So may my hope on future blessings dwell, As 'tis my firm resolve and last farewell.

[The Retreat.]

[Line: 4 'first' of course = 'that first'. One naturally asks 'beach'? but perhaps unreasonably.]

[Line: 6 'rack' as a verb in this sense is interesting, and certainly not common.]

Sonnet.

Tell me, you stars that our affections move, Why made ye me that cruel one to love? Why burns my heart her scorned sacrifice, Whose breast is hard as crystal, cold as ice?

God of Desire! if all thy votaries Thou thus repay, succession will grow wise; No sighs for incense at thy shrine shall smoke, Thy rites will be despis'd, thy altars broke.

O! or give her my flame to melt that snow Which yet unthaw'd does on her bosom grow; 10 Or make me ice, and with her crystal chains Bind up all love within my frozen veins.

[Tell me, &c.]

[Line: 6 succession] = 'those who come after us'.]

Sonnet.

I prithee turn that face away Whose splendour but benights my day. Sad eyes like mine, and wounded hearts Shun the bright rays which beauty darts. Unwelcome is the Sun that pries Into those shades where sorrow lies.

Go, shine on happy things. To me That blessing is a misery: Whom thy fierce Sun not warms, but burns, Like that the sooty Indian turns. 10 I'll serve the night, and there confin'd Wish thee less fair, or else more kind.

[I prithee, &c.] Part of this is very neat and good, but it tails off.]

Sonnet.

Dry those fair, those crystal eyes, Which like growing fountains rise To drown their banks. Grief's sullen brooks Would better flow in furrow'd looks. Thy lovely face was never meant To be the shore of discontent.

Then clear those wat'rish stars again Which else portend a lasting rain; Lest the clouds which settle there Prolong my winter all the year: 10 And the example others make In love with sorrow for thy sake.

[Dry those fair, &c.] This piece is also claimed for Lord Pembroke (see Preface to this volume). It might be his, King's, or the work of almost any lyrical poet in this collection and of many outside of it.]

Sonnet.

When I entreat, either thou wilt not hear, Or else my suit arriving at thy ear Cools and dies there. A strange extremity! To freeze i' th' Sun, and in the shade to fry. Whilst all my blasted hopes decline so soon, 'Tis evening with me, though at high noon.

For pity to thyself, if not to me, Think time will ravish, what I lose, from thee. If my scorch'd heart wither through thy delay, Thy beauty withers too. And swift decay 10 Arrests thy youth. So thou whilst I am slighted Wilt be too soon with age or sorrow nighted.

[When I entreat, &c.]

[Line: 6 'E-ven-ing'.]

To a Lady who sent me a copy of verses at my going to bed.

Lady, your art or wit could ne'er devise To shame me more than in this night's surprise. Why, I am quite unready, and my eye Now winking like my candle, doth deny To guide my hand, if it had aught to write; Nor can I make my drowsy sense indite Which by your verses' music (as a spell Sent from the Sybellean Oracle) Is charm'd and bound in wonder and delight, Faster than all the leaden chains of night. 10

What pity is it then you should so ill Employ the bounty of your flowing quill, As to expend on him your bedward thought, Who can acknowledge that large love in nought But this lean wish; that fate soon send you those Who may requite your rhymes with midnight prose? Meantime, may all delights and pleasing themes Like masquers revel in your maiden dreams, Whilst dull to write, and to do more unmeet, I, as the night invites me, fall asleep. 20

[To a Lady.] Malone MS. 22, at fol. 34, has a first draft of this poem, in which ll. 1-10 appear thus:

Doubtless the Thespian Spring doth overflow His learned bank: else how should ladies grow Such poets as to court th' unknowing time In verse, and entertain their friends in rhyme? Or you some Sybil are, sent to untie The knotty riddles of all poetry, Whilst your smooth numbers such perfections tell As prove yourself a modern oracle.

ll. 11-20 follow as in the text.]

[Line: 8 'Sybellean', though an incorrect, is a rather pretty form and good to keep. It will be remembered that as a girl's name 'Syb_e_lla' or 'Sib_e_lla' is not unknown, beside 'Sybilla' and 'Sybil'.]

[Line: 20 This outrageous assonance may have been meant in character--the poet being too much 'in the arms of Porpus' to notice it.]

[There follows in the original a piece called The Pink, but in the Errata acknowledgement is made that King did not write it. It is therefore omitted here.]

_To his Friends of Christ Church upon the mislike of the Marriage of the Arts acted at Woodstock._

But is it true, the Court mislik'd the play, That Christ Church and the Arts have lost the day; That Ignoramus should so far excel, Their hobby-horse from ours hath born the bell?

Troth! you are justly serv'd, that would present Ought unto them, but shallow merriment; Or to your marriage-table did admit Guests that are stronger far in smell than wit.

Had some quaint bawdry larded ev'ry scene, Some fawning sycophant, or courted quean; 10 Had there appear'd some sharp cross-garter'd man Whom their loud laugh might nickname Puritan, Cas'd up in factious breeches and small ruff, That hates the surplice, and defies the cuff: Then sure they would have given applause to crown That which their ignorance did now cry down.

Let me advise, when next you do bestow Your pains on men that do but little know, You do no Chorus nor a comment lack, Which may expound and construe ev'ry Act: 20 That it be short and slight; for if 't be good Tis long, and neither lik'd nor understood.

Know 'tis Court fashion still to discommend All that which they want brain to comprehend.

[To his Friends of Christ Church.] The occasion of this piece was one of those 'sorrowful chances' which befall those who endeavour to please kings, whatever their name. 'The play' was Barton Holyday's Technogamia, and the 'misliking' (James actually 'offered' to go away twice, though, being a good-natured person, he was persuaded to sit it out) is chronicled by Antony Wood under the author's name. It had been acted with great applause in the House itself, and two of King's younger brothers were among the performers. Also the 'frost' was made more unkind by the success at Cambridge of Ruggles's Ignoramus. So King's spleen, if unwise, was not quite unmotived. The date was August, 1621.]

[Line: 14 There is no probable reference to Malvolio, despite the association of 'cross-garter'd' and 'Puritan'; but the tone of the passage enables one to some extent to understand why the Puritan party conceived themselves to be deserted by King.]

The Surrender.

My once dear Love! hapless that I no more Must call thee so; the rich affection's store That fed our hopes, lies now exhaust and spent, Like sums of treasure unto bankrupts lent.

We, that did nothing study but the way To love each other, with which thoughts the day Rose with delight to us, and with them, set, Must learn the hateful art, how to forget.

We, that did nothing wish that Heav'n could give, Beyond ourselves, nor did desire to live 10 Beyond that wish, all these now cancel must, As if not writ in faith, but words and dust.

Yet witness those clear vows which lovers make, Witness the chaste desires that never brake Into unruly heats; witness that breast Which in thy bosom anchor'd his whole rest, 'Tis no default in us; I dare acquite Thy maiden faith, thy purpose fair and white, As thy pure self. Cross planets did envy Us to each other, and Heaven did untie 20 Faster than vows could bind. O that the stars, When lovers meet, should stand oppos'd in wars!

Since then some higher Destinies command, Let us not strive nor labour to withstand What is past help. The longest date of grief Can never yield a hope of our relief; And though we waste ourselves in moist laments, Tears may drown us, but not our discontents.

Fold back our arms, take home our fruitless loves, That must new fortunes try, like turtle-doves 30 Dislodged from their haunts. We must in tears Unwind a love knit up in many years. In this last kiss I here surrender thee Back to thyself, so thou again art free. Thou in another, sad as that, resend The truest heart that lover ere did lend.

Now turn from each. So fare our sever'd hearts, As the divorc'd soul from her body parts.

[The Surrender.] Title 'An Elegy' in Malone MS. 22.]

[Line: 13 Yet] MS. 'But'.]

[Line: 17 'acquite' may be for rhyme only; but if 'requite', why not?]

[Line: 34 so] MS. 'lo'.]

[This piece and the next must be interpreted as each reader chooses. They are not without touches of sincerity, but might as well be exercises in the school of King's great friend and master, Donne.]

The Legacy.

My dearest Love! when thou and I must part, And th' icy hand of death shall seize that heart Which is all thine; within some spacious will I'll leave no blanks for legacies to fill: 'Tis my ambition to die one of those, Who, but himself, hath nothing to dispose.

And since that is already thine, what need I to re-give it by some newer deed? Yet take it once again. Free circumstance Does oft the value of mean things advance: 10 Who thus repeats what he bequeath'd before, Proclaims his bounty richer than his store.

But let me not upon my love bestow What is not worth the giving. I do owe Somewhat to dust: my body's pamper'd care, Hungry corruption and the worm will share. That mould'ring relic which in earth must lie, Would prove a gift of horror to thine eye.

With this cast rag of my mortality, Let all my faults and errors buried be. 20 And as my cere-cloth rots, so may kind fate Those worst acts of my life incinerate. He shall in story fill a glorious room, Whose ashes and whose sins sleep in one tomb.

If now to my cold hearse thou deign to bring Some melting sighs as thy last offering, My peaceful exequies are crown'd. Nor shall I ask more honour at my funeral. Thou wilt more richly balm me with thy tears, Than all the nard fragrant Arabia bears. 30

And as the Paphian Queen by her grief's show'r Brought up her dead Love's spirit in a flow'r: So by those precious drops rain'd from thine eyes, Out of my dust, O may some virtue rise! And like thy better Genius thee attend, Till thou in my dark period shall end.

Lastly, my constant truth let me commend To him thou choosest next to be thy friend. For (witness all things good) I would not have Thy youth and beauty married to my grave, 40 'T would show thou didst repent the style of wife, Shouldst thou relapse into a single life.

They with preposterous grief the world delude, Who mourn for their lost mates in solitude; Since widowhood more strongly doth enforce The much lamented lot of their divorce. Themselves then of their losses guilty are, Who may, yet will not, suffer a repair.

Those were barbarian wives, that did invent Weeping to death at th' husband's monument; 50 But in more civil rites she doth approve Her first, who ventures on a second love; For else it may be thought, if she refrain, She sped so ill, she durst not try again.

Up then, my Love, and choose some worthier one, Who may supply my room when I am gone; So will the stock of our affection thrive No less in death, than were I still alive. And in my urn I shall rejoice, that I Am both testator thus and legacy. 60

[The Legacy.] The remark made above applies especially to The Legacy, for there are no known or likely circumstances in King's life corresponding to it; while at the same time it might be the fancy of a young lover-husband. The first six stanzas have something of the 'yew-and-roses' charm of their great originals: the last four justify the ancients in holding that extravagance too often comports frigidity.]

The Short Wooing.

Like an oblation set before a shrine, Fair one! I offer up this heart of mine. Whether the Saint accept my gift or no, I'll neither fear nor doubt before I know. For he whose faint distrust prevents reply, Doth his own suit's denial prophesy.

Your will the sentence is; who free as Fate Can bid my love proceed, or else retreat. And from short views that verdict is decreed Which seldom doth one audience exceed. 10 Love asks no dull probation, but like light Conveys his nimble influence at first sight.

I need not therefore importune or press; This were t' extort unwilling happiness: And much against affection might I sin: To tire and weary what I seek to win. Towns which by ling'ring siege enforced be Oft make both sides repent the victory.

Be Mistress of yourself: and let me thrive Or suffer by your own prerogative. 20 Yet stay, since you are Judge, who in one breath Bear uncontrolled power of Life and Death, Remember (Sweet) pity doth best become Those lips which must pronounce a suitor's doom.

If I find that, my spark of chaste desire Shall kindle into Hymen's holy fire: Else like sad flowers will these verses prove, To stick the coffin of rejected Love.

[The Short Wooing.] A fair average metaphysicality.]

St. Valentine's Day

Now that each feather'd chorister doth sing The glad approaches of the welcome Spring: Now Ph[oe]bus darts forth his more early beam And dips it later in the curled stream, I should to custom prove a retrograde Did I still dote upon my sullen shade.

Oft have the seasons finish'd and begun; Days into months, those into years have run, Since my cross stars and inauspicious fate Doom'd me to linger here without my mate 10 Whose loss ere since befrosting my desire, Left me an Altar without gift or fire.

I therefore could have wish'd for your own sake That Fortune had design'd a nobler stake For you to draw, than one whose fading day Like to a dedicated taper lay Within a tomb, and long burnt out in vain, Since nothing there saw better by the flame.

Yet since you like your chance, I must not try To mar it through my incapacity. 20 I here make title to it, and proclaim How much you honour me to wear my name; Who can no form of gratitude devise, But offer up myself your sacrifice.

Hail, then, my worthy lot! and may each morn Successive springs of joy to you be born: May your content ne'er wane until my heart Grown bankrupt, wants good wishes to impart. Henceforth I need not make the dust my shrine, Nor search the grave for my lost Valentine. 30

[St. Valentine's Day.] I suppose, though I do not remember an instance, that in the good days before the prettiest of English customs succumbed--partly to the growth of Vulgarity and partly to the competition of the much less interesting Christmas Card--some one, or more than one, must have made a collection of literary Valentines. In that case this should have figured. It has a good deal of 'Henry King, his mark'--good taste, freedom from mawkishness, melody, and enough poetical essence to save it from the merely mediocre. The coincidence of l. 24 with the more passionate close of 'Tell me no more' should not escape notice.--I have not altered 'ere since' to 'e'er since' in text, because the emendation, though almost, is not quite certain.]

To his unconstant Friend.

But say, thou very woman, why to me This fit of weakness and inconstancy? What forfeit have I made of word or vow, That I am rack'd on thy displeasure now? If I have done a fault, I do not shame To cite it from thy lips, give it a name: I ask the banes, stand forth, and tell me why We should not in our wonted loves comply? Did thy cloy'd appetite urge thee to try If any other man could love as I? 10 I see friends are like clothes, laid up whilst new, But after wearing cast, though ne'er so true. Or did thy fierce ambition long to make Some lover turn a martyr for thy sake? Thinking thy beauty had deserv'd no name Unless someone do perish in that flame: Upon whose loving dust this sentence lies, Here 's one was murther'd by his mistress' eyes.

Or was't because my love to thee was such, I could not choose but blab it? swear how much 20 I was thy slave, and doting let thee know, I better could myself than thee forgo.

Hearken! ye men that e'er shall love like me, I'll give you counsel gratis: if you be Possess'd of what you like, let your fair friend Lodge in your bosom, but no secrets send To seek their lodging in a female breast; For so much is abated of your rest. The steed that comes to understand his strength Grows wild, and casts his manager at length: 30 And that tame lover who unlocks his heart Unto his mistress, teaches her an art To plague himself; shows her the secret way How she may tyrannize another day.

And now, my fair Unkindness, thus to thee; Mark how wise Passion and I agree: Hear and be sorry for't. I will not die To expiate thy crime of levity: I walk (not cross-arm'd neither), eat, and live, Yea live to pity thy neglect, not grieve 40 That thou art from thy faith and promise gone, Nor envy him who by my loss hath won. Thou shalt perceive thy changing Moon-like fits Have not infected me, or turn'd my wits To lunacy. I do not mean to weep When I should eat, or sigh when I should sleep; I will not fall upon my pointed quill, Bleed ink and poems, or invention spill To contrive ballads, or weave elegies For nurses' wearing when the infant cries. 50 Nor like th' enamour'd Tristrams of the time, Despair in prose and hang myself in rhyme. Nor thither run upon my verses' feet, Where I shall none but fools or madmen meet, Who midst the silent shades, and myrtle walks, Pule and do penance for their mistress' faults. I'm none of those poetic malcontents Born to make paper dear with my laments: Or wild Orlando that will rail and vex, And for thy sake fall out with all the sex. 60 No, I will love again, and seek a prize That shall redeem me from thy poor despise. I'll court my fortune now in such a shape That will no faint dye, nor starv'd colour take.

Thus launch I off with triumph from thy shore, To which my last farewell; for never more Will I touch there. I put to sea again Blown with the churlish wind of thy disdain. Nor will I stop this course till I have found A coast that yields safe harbour, and firm ground. 70

Smile, ye Love-Stars; wing'd with desire I fly, To make my wishes' full discovery: Nor doubt I but for one that proves like you, I shall find ten as fair, and yet more true.

[To his unconstant Friend.]

[Line: 7 I have thought it better to keep the form 'ban_e_', which was not uncommon (and, if I am not mistaken, was sometimes made to carry a pun with it), instead of the now usual, and even then authoritative, 'ban_n_'.]

[Line: 11 laid] Orig. 'lad'--an evident misprint.]

[Line: 16 had perisht Malone MS. 22.]

[Line: 57 Orig., as often, 'mal_e_contents'.

This piece is one of King's few attempts to play the 'dog'. It is, as one would expect, not very happy, but it might be worse.]

Madam Gabrina, Or the Ill-favour'd Choice.

Con mala Muger el remedio Mucha Tierra por el medio.

I have oft wond'red why thou didst elect Thy mistress of a stuff none could affect, That wore his eyes in the right place. A thing Made up, when Nature's powers lay slumbering. One, where all pregnant imperfections met To make her sex's scandal: Teeth of jet, Hair dy'd in orp'ment, from whose fretful hue Canidia her highest witchcrafts drew. A lip most thin and pale, but such a mouth Which like the poles is stretched North and South 10 A face so colour'd, and of such a form, As might defiance bid unto a storm: And the complexion of her sallow hide Like a wrack'd body wash'd up by the tide: Eyes small: a nose so to her vizard glued As if 'twould take a Planet's altitude. Last for her breath, 'tis somewhat like the smell That does in Ember weeks on Fish-street dwell; Or as a man should fasting scent the Rose Which in the savoury Bear-garden grows. 20 If a Fox cures the paralytical, Hadst thou ten palsies, she'd outstink them all.

But I have found thy plot: sure thou didst try To put thyself past hope of jealousy: And whilst unlearned fools the senses please, Thou cur'st thy appetite by a disease; As many use, to kill an itch withal, Quicksilver or some biting mineral.

Dote upon handsome things each common man With little study and less labour can; 30 But to make love to a deformity, Only commends thy great ability, Who from hard-favour'd objects draw'st content, As estriches from iron nutriment.

Well, take her, and like mounted George, in bed Boldly achieve thy Dragon's maiden-head: Where (though scarce sleep) thou mayst rest confident None dares beguile thee of thy punishment: The sin were not more foul that he should commit, Than is that She with whom he acted it. 40

Yet take this comfort: when old age shall raze, Or sickness ruin many a good face, Thy choice cannot impair; no cunning curse Can mend that night-piece, that is, make her worse.

[Madam Gabrina]

[Line: 7 'Orp[i]ment' = yellow arsenic--then, and to some extent still, used as a gold-dye.]

[Line: 39 Malone MS. 22 omits that.]

[Line: 41 It is curious that King, who has elsewhere followed Spenser in the matter of eye-rhyme pretty closely, did not spell 'raze', 'race', which was a very usual form and perhaps, as in 'race-ship', the commoner pronunciation.--The whole poem is one of his most disappointing. His Spanish distich--which (adopting Mr. Browning's use of 'fix') might be paraphrased:

If a bad woman once has fix'd you, Put many a mile of ground betwixt you--

says nothing about mere ugliness; while, on the other hand, King does not utilize the prescription of absence as the only cure for ill-placed love. He has at first sight simply added (though, as one would expect, not in the most offensive form) another to the far too numerous dull and loathsome imitations of one of Horace's rare betrayals of the fact that he was not a gentleman. But see on next.]

The Defence.

Piensan los Enamorados Que tienen los otros los ojos quebrantados.

Why slightest thou what I approve? Thou art no Peer to try my love, Nor canst discern where her form lies, Unless thou saw'st her with my eyes.

Say she were foul and blacker than The Night, or sunburnt African, If lik'd by me, 'tis I alone Can make a beauty where was none; For rated in my fancy, she Is so as she appears to me. 10

But 'tis not feature, or a face, That does my free election grace, Nor is my liking only led By a well-temper'd white and red; Could I enamour'd grow on those, The Lily and the blushing Rose United in one stalk might be As dear unto my thoughts as she.

But I look farther, and do find A richer beauty in her mind; 20 Where something is so lasting fair, As time or age cannot impair. Hadst thou a perspective so clear, Thou couldst behold my object there; When thou her virtues shouldst espy, They'd force thee to confess that I Had cause to like her, and learn thence To love by judgement, not by sense.

[The Defence.] This is very much better, though we need not have had to wade through the other poem to get to it. It has neither the conciseness nor the finish of Ausonius's triumphant confession to Crispa, but is good enough. The Spanish heading here, which in the original has an unnecessary comma at otros and an unnecessary divorce of space between quebranta and dos, may be roughly rendered:

For it is still the lover's mind That all, except himself, are blind.

The piece is also assigned to Rudyard. Mr. Thorn-Drury notes a variant at ll. 23-8 of some interest from Parnassus Biceps, where the title is 'A Lover to one dispraising his Mistress':

so clear That thou couldst view my object there; When thou her virtues didst espy, Thou 'ldst wonder and confess that I Had cause to like; and learn from hence To love. ]

To One demanding why Wine sparkles.

So diamonds sparkle, and thy mistress' eyes; When 'tis not fire but light in either flies. Beauty not thaw'd by lustful flames will show Like a fair mountain of unmelted snow: Nor can the tasted vine more danger bring Than water taken from the crystal spring, Whose end is to refresh and cool that heat Which unallay'd becomes foul vice's seat: Unless thy boiling veins, mad with desire Of drink, convert the liquor into fire. 10 For then thou quaff'st down fevers, thy full bowls Carouse the burning draughts of Portia's coals.

If it do leap and sparkle in the cup, 'Twill sink thy cares, and help invention up. There never yet was Muse or Poet known Not dipt or drenched in this Helicon. But Tom! take heed thou use it with such care As witches deal with their familiar. For if thy virtue's circle not confine And guard thee from the Furies rais'd by wine, 20 'Tis ten to one this dancing spirit may A Devil prove to bear thy wits away; And make thy glowing nose a map of Hell Where Bacchus' purple fumes like meteors dwell. Now think not these sage morals thee invite To prove Carthusian or strict Rechabite; Let fool's be mad, wise people may be free, Though not to license turn their liberty. He that drinks wine for health, not for excess, Nor drowns his temper in a drunkenness, 30 Shall feel no more the grape's unruly fate, Then if he took some chilling opiate.

[To One demanding, &c.] If not exactly Poetry, this is at least sense, as was once remarked (or in words to that effect), with 'Latin' for 'Poetry', by the late Professor Nettleship, with regard to a composition not in verse.

Malone MS. 22, fol. 24, has an earlier draft of this poem, commencing:

We do not give the wine a sparkling name, As if we meant those sparks implied a flame; The flame lies in our blood: and 'tis desire Fed by loose appetite sets us on fire,

and concluding with lines 29-32.]

By occasion of the Young Prince his happy Birth.

[Charles II. Born May 29, 1630.]

At this glad triumph, when most poets use Their quill, I did not bridle up my Muse For sloth or less devotion. I am one That can well keep my Holy-days at home;

That can the blessings of my King and State Better in pray'r than poems gratulate; And in their fortunes bear a loyal part, Though I no bonfires light but in my heart.

Truth is, when I receiv'd the first report Of a new star risen and seen at Court; 10 Though I felt joy enough to give a tongue Unto a mute, yet duty strook me dumb: And thus surpris'd by rumour, at first sight I held it some allegiance not to write.

For howe'er children, unto those that look Their pedigree in God's, not the Church book, Fair pledges are of that eternity Which Christians possess not till they die; Yet they appear, view'd in that perspective Through which we look on men long since alive, 20 Like succours in a Camp, sent to make good Their place that last upon the watches stood. So that in age, or fate, each following birth Doth set the parent so much nearer earth: And by this grammar we our heirs may call The smiling Preface to our funeral.

This sadded my soft sense, to think that he Who now makes laws, should by a bold decree Be summon'd hence, to make another room, And change his royal palace for a tomb. 30 For none ere truly lov'd the present light, But griev'd to see it rivall'd by the night: And if 't be sin to wish that light extinct, Sorrow may make it treason but to think't. I know each malcontent or giddy man, In his religion, with the Persian Adores the rising Sun; and his false view Best likes, not what is best, but what is new. O that we could these gangrenes so prevent (For our own blessing, and their punishment), 40 That all such might, who for wild changes thirst, Rack'd on a hopeless expectation, burst,

To see us fetter time, and by his stay To a consistence fix the flying day; And in a Solstice by our prayers made, Rescue our Sun from death or envy's shade.

But here we dally with fate, and in this Stern Destiny mocks and controls our wish; Informing us, if fathers should remain For ever here, children were born in vain; 50 And we in vain were Christians, should we In this world dream of perpetuity. Decay is Nature's Kalendar; nor can It hurt the King to think he is a man; Nor grieve, but comfort him, to hear us say That his own children must his sceptre sway. Why slack I then to contribute a vote, Large as the kingdom's joy, free as my thought? Long live the Prince! and in that title bear The world long witness that the King is here: 60 May he grow up, till all that good he reach Which we can wish, or his Great Father teach: Let him shine long, a mark to land and main, Like that bright spark plac'd nearest to Charles' Wain, And, like him, lead succession's golden team, Which may possess the British diadem.

But in the mean space, let his Royal Sire, Who warms our hopes with true Promethean fire, So long his course in time and glory run, Till he estate his virtue on his son. 70 So in his father's days this happy One Shall crowned be, yet not usurp the Throne; And Charles reign still, since thus himself will be Heir to himself, through all posterity.

[By occasion, &c.]

[Line: 8 Orig. 'bon_e_-fires', as often, the spelling being accepted by recent authorities as etymological. But bones do not make good fires: 'ba_n_e-fire', the acknowledged Northern form, which has been held to support this origin, is a very likely variant of' ba_l_e-fire', and the obvious 'bon-fire' in the holiday sense is by no means so absurd as it has been represented to be.]

[Line: 10 This 'new star' occurs again and again in courtly verse throughout Charles's life and at his death, but the accounts of it are uncomfortably conflicting. Some say that Venus was visible all day long--a phenomenon of obvious application; others make it Mercury--whereto also an application, at which the person concerned would have laughed very genially, is possible. But neither is a 'new star'; and the miracle is perhaps more judiciously put as that of a star, no matter what, shining brightly at noonday.]

[Line: 22 that] MS. 'who'.]

[Line: 27 'sadded' has some interest.]

[Line: 47 'But here we with fate dally' Malone MS. 22.]

[Line: 50 were born] MS. 'would live'--not so well.]

[Line: 57 vote] In the sense of votum = 'wish'.]

[Line: 60 long] MS. 'glad'.]

[Line: 63 long] MS. 'forth'.]

[Line: 70 MS. 'virtues'.]

Upon the King's happy return from Scotland.

So breaks the day, when the returning Sun Hath newly through his winter tropic run, As You (Great Sir!) in this regress come forth From the remoter climate of the North.

To tell You now what cares, what fears we past, What clouds of sorrow did the land o'er-cast, Were lost, but unto such as have been there, Where the absented Sun benights the year: Or have those countries travel'd, which ne'er feel The warmth and virtue of his flaming wheel. 10

How happy yet were we! that when You went, You left within Your Kingdom's firmament A Partner-light, whose lustre may despise The nightly glimm'ring tapers of the skies, Your peerless Queen; and at each hand a Star, Whose hopeful beams from You enkindled are. Though (to say truth) the light, which they could bring, Serv'd but to lengthen out our evening.

Heaven's greater lamps illumine it; each spark Adds only this, to make the sky less dark. 20 Nay, She, who is the glory of her sex, Did sadly droop for lack of Your reflex: Oft did She her fair brow in loneness shroud, And dimly shone, like Venus in a cloud.

Now are those gloomy mists dry'd up by You, As the world's eye scatters the ev'ning dew: And You bring home that blessing to the land, Which absence made us rightly understand.

Here may You henceforth stay! there need no charms To hold You, but the circle of her arms, 30 Whose fruitful love yields You a rich increase, Seals of Your joy, and of the kingdom's peace. O may those precious pledges fix You here, And You grow old within that crystal sphere!

Pardon this bold detention. Else our love Will merely an officious trouble prove. Each busy minute tells us, as it flies, That there are better objects for Your eyes. To them let us leave You, whilst we go pray, Raising this triumph to a Holy-day. 40

And may that soul the Church's blessing want, May his content be short, his comforts scant, Whose bosom-altar does no incense burn, In thankful sacrifice for Your return.

[Upon the King's happy return, &c.] Hannah notes that this appears with variants, but signed, in MS. Ashm. 38, fol. 51. I have not thought it necessary to collate this version from a work described by good authorities as 'a bad MS.'. The piece itself, however, with others of King's, may well have been in Dryden's mind when he composed his own batch of Restoration welcome-poems to Charles II and Clarendon, within three or four years of the publication of these. There is no plagiarism: Heaven forbid that I should take part in plagiarism-hunting. But there is a sort of resemblance in form and tone (especially in the use of 'You' and 'Your' as pivots), and (though with great improvement) in versification.--The capital Y's here are almost complete in the original, and I have completed them.]

To the Queen at Oxford.

Great Lady! that thus, quite against our use, We speak your welcome by an English Muse, And in a vulgar tongue our zeals contrive, Is to confess your large prerogative, Who have the pow'rful freedom to dispense With our strict Rules, or Custom's difference.

'Tis fit, when such a Star deigns to appear, And shine within the academic sphere, That ev'ry college, grac'd by your resort, Should only speak the language of your Court; 10 As if Apollo's learned quire, but You, No other Queen of the Ascendent knew.

Let those that list invoke the Delphian name, To light their verse, and quench their doting flame; In Helicon it were high treason now, Did any to a feign'd Minerva bow; When You are present, whose chaste virtues stain The vaunted glories of her maiden brain.

I would not flatter. May that diet feed Deform'd and vicious souls; they only need 20 Such physic, who, grown sick of their decays, Are only cur'd with surfeits of false praise; Like those, who, fall'n from youth or beauty's grace, Lay colours on, which more belie the face.

Be You still what You are; a glorious theme For Truth to crown. So when that diadem Which circles Your fair brow drops off, and time Shall lift You to that pitch our prayers climb; Posterity will plait a nobler wreath, To crown Your fame and memory in death. 30 This is sad truth and plain, which I might fear Would scarce prove welcome to a Prince's ear; And hardly may you think that writer wise, Who preaches there where he should poetize; Yet where so rich a bank of goodness is, Triumphs and Feasts admit such thoughts as this, Nor will your virtue from her client turn, Although he bring his tribute in an urn.

Enough of this: who knows not when to end Needs must, by tedious diligence, offend. 40 Tis not a poet's office to advance The precious value of allegiance. And least of all the rest do I affect To word my duty in this dialect.

My service lies a better way, whose tone Is spirited by full devotion. Thus, whilst I mention You, Your Royal Mate, And Those which your blest line perpetuate, I shall such votes of happiness rehearse, Whose softest accents will out-tongue my verse. 50

[To the Queen at Oxford.] This poem was omitted in Hannah's MS., and it is in no way clear to what visit it refers. The absence of any reference to politics shows that it cannot have been Henrietta's residence at Merton during the Rebellion.]

[Line: 29 plait] Orig 'plat'.]

A Salutation of His Majesty's ship The Sovereign.

Move on, thou floating trophy built to Fame! And bid her trump spread thy majestic name; That the blue Tritons, and those petty Gods Which sport themselves upon the dancing floods, May bow, as to their Neptune, when they feel The awful pressure of thy potent keel.

Great wonder of the time! whose form unites In one aspect two warring opposites, Delight and horror; and in them portends Diff'ring events both to thy foes and friends; 10 To these thy radiant brow, Peace's bright shrine, Doth like that golden constellation shine, Which guides the seaman with auspicious beams, Safe and unshipwrack'd through the troubled streams. But, as a blazing meteor, to those It doth ostents of blood and death disclose. For thy rich decks lighten like Heaven's fires, To usher forth the thunder of thy tires.

O never may cross wind, or swelling wave, Conspire to make the treach'rous sands thy grave: 20 Nor envious rocks, in their white foamy laugh, Rejoice to wear thy loss's Epitaph. But may the smoothest, most successful gales Distend thy sheet, and wing thy flying sails: That all designs which must on thee embark, May be securely plac'd, as in the Ark. May'st thou, where'er thy streamers shall display, Enforce the bold disputers to obey: That they, whose pens are sharper than their swords, May yield in fact, what they denied in words. 30 Thus when th' amazed world our seas shall see Shut from usurpers, to their own Lord free, Thou may'st, returning from the conquered main, With thine own triumphs be crown'd Sovereign.

[A Salutation, &c.] The Sovereign, Sovereign of the Seas, or Royal Sovereign (I am not sure what name she bore during the Rebellion) is one of the famous literary ships of the English Navy. She was built in 1637 at Woolwich by Phineas and Peter Pett out of a whole year's ship-money; and if the means for raising her cost (£80,000) were unpopular, a great deal of pride was taken in the ship herself. Thomas Heywood wrote an account of her which has been frequently quoted. See, for instance, Mr. David Hannay's Short History of the Royal Navy, i. 172, 173. She was of 1637 tons burthen; was pierced for 98 great guns with many smaller murdering-pieces and chasers; and was most elaborately decorated, with carved stern, galleries, black and gold angels, trophies and emblems of all sorts--besides a baker's dozen of allegorical, mythological, and historical statues of personages from Cupid to King Edgar on horseback, as figureheads and elsewhere. She fought all through the Dutch wars; escaped the disgraceful disaster in the Medway; distinguished herself at La Hogue, where a great part is assigned to her by some accounts in chasing Tourville's Soleil Royal ashore; and was burnt by accident, not long after, at Chatham in 1696--her sixtieth year.]

[Line: 11 The 'radiant brow' is of course the gilded figurehead group. There was no actual 'Peace' among the allegories, but the Cupid, a 'child bridling a lion', might perhaps stand for her.]

[Line: 18 'Tire' is of course 'tier': the Sovereign was a three-decker. Professor Skeat approves the spelling, which occurs in Milton and elsewhere. But some would have a special word 'tire', not for the row but the actual 'fire' or 'shooting' (tir) of the guns--which would do well enough here.]

[Lines: 19-22 King's own age would, after the event, have instanced this as an example of Fate granting prayers to the letter yet evading them in the spirit. The Sovereign did escape wind and wave, sand and rock, as well as the enemy, but only to perish otherwise.]

[Line: 24 'Sheets' in plural in Hannah's MS. Another in the Ashmolean collection 'clo[a]th[e]s'--a good naval technicality.]

[Lines: 27-34 Referring to the Mare Clausum dispute and the English insistence on the lowering of foreign flags.]

An Epitaph on his most honoured friend, Richard, Earl of Dorset.

[Died March 28, 1624.]

Let no profane ignoble foot tread near This hallow'd piece of earth: Dorset lies here. A small sad relique of a noble spirit, Free as the air, and ample as his merit; Whose least perfection was large, and great Enough to make a common man complete. A soul refin'd and cull'd from many men, That reconcil'd the sword unto the pen, Using both well. No proud forgetting Lord, But mindful of mean names, and of his word. 10 One that did love for honour, not for ends, And had the noblest way of making friends By loving first. One that did know the Court, Yet understood it better by report Than practice, for he nothing took from thence But the king's favour for his recompense.

One for religion, or his country's good, That valu'd not his fortune, nor his blood. One high in fair opinion, rich in praise, And full of all we could have wish'd, but days. 20

He that is warn'd of this, and shall forbear To vent a sigh for him, or lend a tear; May he live long and scorn'd, unpitied fall, And want a mourner at his funeral.

[An Epitaph.] This Dorset was the third earl, Richard. As a very young man he married the famous Lady Anne Clifford, whose ill-luck in husbands may have been partly caused, but must have been somewhat compensated, by her masterful temper. Dorset, who died young, was both a libertine and a spendthrift; but King seems to have thought well enough of him not only to write this epitaph, but to lend him, or guarantee for him, a thousand pounds (quite £3,000 to-day), which he had at any rate not got back thirty years afterwards. The present piece appears, with variants, in Corbet's Poems, but King seems to have the better claim. Hannah gives a considerable body of various readings from the Corbet version and one in the Ashmole MS. 38, but it hardly seems worth while to burden the page-foot with them, for the epitaph is mere 'common-form' and of no special interest.]

The Exequy.

Accept, thou Shrine of my dead Saint, Instead of dirges this complaint; And for sweet flowers to crown thy hearse, Receive a strew of weeping verse From thy griev'd friend, whom thou might'st see Quite melted into tears for thee.

Dear loss! since thy untimely fate, My task hath been to meditate On thee, on thee: thou art the book, The library, whereon I look, 10 Though almost blind. For thee (lov'd clay) I languish out, not live, the day, Using no other exercise But what I practise with mine eyes: By which wet glasses, I find out How lazily time creeps about To one that mourns; this, only this, My exercise and bus'ness is: So I compute the weary hours With sighs dissolved into showers. 20

Nor wonder, if my time go thus Backward and most preposterous; Thou hast benighted me; thy set This eve of blackness did beget, Who wast my day (though overcast, Before thou hadst thy noon-tide past), And I remember must in tears, Thou scarce hadst seen so many years As day tells hours. By thy clear Sun, My love and fortune first did run; 30 But thou wilt never more appear Folded within my hemisphere, Since both thy light and motion Like a fled star is fall'n and gone, And 'twixt me and my soul's dear wish The earth now interposed is, Which such a strange eclipse doth make, As ne'er was read in almanac.

I could allow thee, for a time, To darken me and my sad clime, 40 Were it a month, a year, or ten, I would thy exile live till then; And all that space my mirth adjourn, So thou wouldst promise to return; And putting off thy ashy shroud, At length disperse this sorrow's cloud.

But woe is me! the longest date Too narrow is to calculate These empty hopes: never shall I Be so much blest as to descry 50 A glimpse of thee, till that day come, Which shall the earth to cinders doom, And a fierce fever must calcine The body of this world, like thine, My Little World! That fit of fire Once off, our bodies shall aspire To our souls' bliss: then we shall rise, And view ourselves with clearer eyes In that calm region, where no night Can hide us from each other's sight. 60

Meantime, thou hast her, Earth; much good May my harm do thee. Since it stood With Heaven's will, I might not call Her longer mine, I give thee all My short-liv'd right and interest In her, whom living I lov'd best: With a most free and bounteous grief, I give thee, what I could not keep. Be kind to her, and prithee look Thou write into thy Dooms-day book 70 Each parcel of this rarity, Which in thy casket shrin'd doth lie: See that thou make thy reck'ning straight, And yield her back again by weight; For thou must audit on thy trust Each grain and atom of this dust, As thou wilt answer Him that lent, Not gave thee, my dear monument.

So close the ground, and 'bout her shade Black curtains draw;--my Bride is laid. 80

Sleep on, my Love, in thy cold bed, Never to be disquieted! My last good night! Thou wilt not wake, Till I thy fate shall overtake: Till age, or grief, or sickness, must Marry my body to that dust It so much loves; and fill the room My heart keeps empty in thy tomb. Stay for me there; I will not fail To meet thee in that hollow vale: 90 And think not much of my delay; I am already on the way, And follow thee with all the speed Desire can make, or sorrows breed. Each minute is a short degree, And ev'ry hour a step towards thee. At night, when I betake to rest, Next morn I rise nearer my West Of life, almost by eight hours' sail Than when sleep breath'd his drowsy gale. 100

Thus from the Sun my bottom steers, And my day's compass downward bears: Nor labour I to stem the tide, Through which to Thee I swiftly glide.

'Tis true, with shame and grief I yield, Thou, like the van, first took'st the field, And gotten hast the victory, In thus adventuring to die Before me, whose more years might crave A just precedence in the grave. 110 But heark! My pulse, like a soft drum, Beats my approach, tells Thee I come; And slow howe'er my marches be, I shall at last sit down by Thee.

The thought of this bids me go on, And wait my dissolution With hope and comfort. Dear (forgive The crime), I am content to live Divided, with but half a heart, Till we shall meet and never part. 120

[The Exequy.] This beautiful poem (which bore in Hannah's MS. the sub-title, itself not unmemorable, 'To his Matchless never-to-be forgotten Friend') makes, with 'Tell me no more', King's chief claim to poetic rank. It is not--he never is--splendid, or strange, or soul-shaking; but for simplicity, sincerity, tenderness, and grace--nay, as the time went, nature--it has, in its modest way, not many superiors.

Versions are found in Ashmole MS. 36, fol. 253, and Rawlinson Poet. MS. 160. fol. 41 verso.]

[Line: 36 The] All three MSS. read 'An', which, considering the obvious double meaning of 'earth', is perhaps better.]

[Lines: 67-8 Assonance, though not elsewhere unknown, is not common in King.]

[Line: 81 seq. If the last paragraph has seemed to any to approach 'False Wit' this ought to make amends. And so with the conclusion.]

The Anniverse. An Elegy.

So soon grown old! hast thou been six years dead? Poor earth, once by my Love inhabited! And must I live to calculate the time To which thy blooming youth could never climb, But fell in the ascent! yet have not I Studied enough thy loss's history.

How happy were mankind, if Death's strict laws Consum'd our lamentations like the cause! Or that our grief, turning to dust, might end With the dissolved body of a friend! 10

But sacred Heaven! O, how just thou art In stamping death's impression on that heart, Which through thy favours would grow insolent, Were it not physic'd by sharp discontent. If, then, it stand resolv'd in thy decree, That still I must doom'd to a desert be, Sprung out of my lone thoughts, which know no path But what my own misfortune beaten hath;-- If thou wilt bind me living to a corse, And I must slowly waste; I then of force 20 Stoop to thy great appointment, and obey That will which nought avails me to gainsay.

For whilst in sorrow's maze I wander on, I do but follow life's vocation. Sure we were made to grieve: at our first birth, With cries we took possession of the earth; And though the lucky man reputed be Fortune's adopted son, yet only he Is Nature's true-born child, who sums his years (Like me) with no arithmetic but tears. 30

[The Anniverse.] Not quite so good as The Exequy, but not bad. The Hannah-Pickering MS. had a few variants, not worth entering here in most cases.]

[Line: 19 corse] This word had odd luck in a well-printed book, and a generally well-written MS., for it shows in the one as 'coarse', in the other as 'course'--both errors not infrequent at the time.]

[Line: 22 avails] This is the MS. reading: the book has 'avail'.]

[Line: 26 took] MS. 'take'.]

On Two Children, dying of one disease, and buried in one grave.

Brought forth in sorrow, and bred up in care, Two tender children here entombed are: One place, one sire, one womb their being gave, They had one mortal sickness, and one grave. And though they cannot number many years In their account, yet with their parent's tears This comfort mingles; Though their days were few, They scarcely sin, but never sorrow knew; So that they well might boast, they carried hence What riper ages lose, their innocence. 10

You pretty losses, that revive the fate, Which, in your mother, death did antedate, O let my high-swoln grief distil on you The saddest drops of a parental dew: You ask no other dower than what my eyes Lay out on your untimely exequies: When once I have discharg'd that mournful score, Heav'n hath decreed you ne'er shall cost me more, Since you release and quit my borrow'd trust, By taking this inheritance of dust. 20

[On Two Children, &c.] The number of King's children is uncertain, but as the eldest certainly died before the mother, and his sons lived, one nearly as long as the Bishop, the other a little longer, Hannah seems justified in arguing from this piece that there were five.]

A Letter.

I ne'er was dress'd in forms; nor can I bend My pen to flatter any, nor commend, Unless desert or honour do present Unto my verse a worthy argument.

You are my friend, and in that word to me Stand blazon'd in your noblest heraldry; That style presents you full, and does relate The bounty of your love, and my own fate, Both which conspir'd to make me yours. A choice, Which needs must, in the giddy people's voice, 10 That only judge the outside, and, like apes, Play with our names, and comment on our shapes, Appear too light: but it lies you upon, To justify the disproportion.

Truth be my record, I durst not presume To seek to you, 'twas you that did assume Me to your bosom. Wherein you subdu'd One that can serve you, though ne'er could intrude Upon great titles; nor knows how t' invade Acquaintance: Like such as are only paid 20 With great men's smiles; if that the passant Lord Let fall a forc'd salute, or but afford The nod regardant. It was test enough For me, you ne'er did find such servile stuff Couch'd in my temper; I can freely say, I do not love you in that common way For which Great Ones are lov'd in this false time: I have no wish to gain, nor will to climb; I cannot pawn my freedom, nor outlive My liberty, for all that you can give. 30 And sure you may retain good cheap such friends, Who not your fortune make, but you, their ends. I speak not this to vaunt in my own story, All these additions are unto your glory; Who, counter to the world, use to elect, Not to take up on trust, what you affect. Indeed 'tis seldom seen that such as you Adopt a friend, or for acquaintance sue; Yet you did this vouchsafe, you did descend Below yourself to raise an humble friend, 40 And fix him in your love: where I will stand The constant subject of your free command. Had I no airy thoughts, sure you would teach Me higher than my own dull sphere to reach: And, by reflex, instruct me to appear Something (though coarse and plain) fit for your wear.

Know, best of friends, however wild report May justly say, I am unapt to sort With your opinion or society (Which truth would shame me, did I it deny), 50 There 's something in me says, I dare make good, When honour calls me, all I want in blood.

Put off your giant titles, then I can Stand in your judgement's blank an equal man. Though hills advanced are above the plain, They are but higher earth, nor must disdain Alliance with the vale: we see a spade Can level them, and make a mount a glade. Howe'er we differ in the Heralds' book, He that mankind's extraction shall look 60 In Nature's rolls, must grant we all agree In our best part's immortal pedigree: You must by that perspective only view My service, else 'twill ne'er show worthy you.

You see I court you bluntly, like a friend, Not like a mistress; my Muse is not penn'd For smooth and oily flights: and I indent To use more honesty than compliment.

But I have done; in lieu of all you give, Receive his thankful tribute, who must live 70 Your vow'd observer, and devotes a heart Which will in death seal the bold counterpart.

[A Letter.] I do not know any clue to the object of this epistle. King, like most churchmen of distinction at the time, was on familiar terms with divers 'persons of quality'. But it might be a mere literary exercise--a 'copy of verses'.]

[Line: 23 'Nod regardant' is good. It shows, with 'passant' just before that his own reference to heraldry was still floating in King's mind.]

[Line: 54 Either of two of the numerous senses of 'blank' would come in here. One is tabula rasa, the judgement being obscured by no prepossession; the other 'bull's-eye' or 'target'.]

[Line: 59 Orig. as usual, 'Heralds', with no apostrophe to make case or number. If anybody prefers 'herald's' I have no objection.]

[Line: 67 indent] In the sense of 'contract', 'engage'.]

An Acknowledgement.

My best of friends! what needs a chain to tie One by your merit bound a votary? Think you I have some plot upon my peace, I would this bondage change for a release? Since 'twas my fate your prisoner to be, Heav'n knows I nothing fear, but liberty.

Yet you do well, that study to prevent, After so rich a stock of favour spent On one so worthless, lest my memory Should let so dear an obligation die 10 Without record. This made my precious Friend Her token, as an antidote, to send, Against forgetful poisons; That as they Who Vespers late, and early Mattins say Upon their beads, so on this linked score In golden numbers I might reckon o'er Your virtues and my debt, which does surmount The trivial laws of popular account: For that, within this emblematic knot, Your beauteous mind, and my own fate, is wrote. 20

The sparkling constellation which combines The lock, is your dear self, whose worth outshines Most of your sex; so solid and so clear You like a perfect diamond appear; Casting, from your example, fuller light Than those dim sparks which glaze the brow of night, And gladding all your friends, as doth the ray Of that East-star which wakes the cheerful day.

But the black map of death and discontent Behind that adamantine firmament, 30 That luckless figure, which, like Calvary, Stands strew'd and copied out in skulls, is I: Whose life your absence clouds, and makes my time Move blindfold in the dark ecliptic line.

Then wonder not, if my removed Sun So low within the western tropic run; My eyes no day in this horizon see, Since where You are not, all is night to me.

Lastly, the anchor which enfast'ned lies Upon a pair of deaths, sadly applies 40 That Monument of Rest, which harbour must Our ship-wrackt fortunes in a road of dust.

So then, how late soe'er my joyless life Be tired out in this affection's strife: Though my tempestuous fancy, like the sky, Travail with storms, and through my wat'ry eye, Sorrow's high-going waves spring many a leak; Though sighs blow loud, till my heart's cordage break; Though Faith, and all my wishes prove untrue, Yet Death shall fix and anchor Me with You. 50 'Tis some poor comfort, that this mortal scope Will period, though never crown, my Hope.

[An Acknowledgement.] This is evidently of the same class as the last poem, if not as evidently addressed to the same person. The recipient of the Letter might be of either sex, for 'mistress' in l. 66 (v. sup.) is not quite decisive in the context. This 'precious Friend' is definitely feminine. Nineteenth--I do not know about twentieth--century man would have been a little uncomfortable about receiving from a lady a gold chain with a grouped diamond pendant, welcome as the enclosed 'lock' might be. But, as Scott and others have long ago remarked, there was none of this false pride in the seventeenth, and you might even take money from the beloved. The combination of death's heads, equally of the time, is more of all time.]

The Acquittance.

Not knowing who should my acquittance take, I know as little what discharge to make. The favour is so great, that it outgoes All forms of thankfulness I can propose. Those grateful levies which my pen would raise, Are stricken dumb, or buried in amaze. Therefore, as once in Athens there was shown An Altar built unto the God Unknown, My ignorant devotions must by guess This blind return of gratitude address, 10 Till you vouchsafe to show me where and how I may to this revealed Goddess bow.

[The Acquittance.] This group of poems is so obviously a group that Hannah's principles of selection in rejecting the present piece and admitting the others may seem unreasonably 'undulating and diverse'. I suppose he thought it rather profane for a bishop even in futuro, and perhaps rather ambiguous in other ways. But though King became a bishop there is no chance of my becoming an archdeacon, and I think the piece rather pretty.]

The Forfeiture.

My Dearest, To let you or the world know What debt of service I do truly owe To your unpattern'd self, were to require A language only form'd in the desire Of him that writes. It is the common fate Of greatest duties, to evaporate In silent meaning, as we often see Fires by their too much fuel smother'd be: Small obligations may find vent, and speak, When greater the unable debtor break. 10 And such are mine to you, whose favour's store Hath made me poorer then I was before; For I want words and language to declare How strict my bond, or large your bounties are.

Since nothing in my desp'rate fortune found, Can payment make, nor yet the sum compound; You must lose all, or else of force accept The body of a bankrupt for your debt. Then, Love, your bond to execution sue, And take myself, as forfeited to you. 20

[The Forfeiture.] This piece, which Hannah did not find in his MS., is almost certainly connected with the preceding, and, I think, with An Acknowledgement and The Departure, if not also with A Letter. The suggested unreality in this Letter disappears to a large extent in them, which is not unnatural.]

[Lines: 9-10 An ingenious adaptation of Curae leves, &c.]

The Departure. An Elegy.

Were I to leave no more than a good friend, Or but to hear the summons to my end, (Which I have long'd for) I could then with ease Attire my grief in words, and so appease That passion in my bosom, which outgrows The language of strict verse or largest prose. But here I am quite lost; writing to you, All that I pen or think is forc'd and new. My faculties run cross, and prove as weak T' indite this melancholy task, as speak: 10 Indeed all words are vain; well might I spare This rend'ring of my tortur'd thoughts in air, Or sighing paper. My infectious grief Strikes inward, and affords me no relief, But still a deeper wound, to lose a sight More lov'd than health, and dearer than the light. But all of us were not at the same time Brought forth, nor are we billeted in one clime. Nature hath pitch'd mankind at several rates, Making our places diverse as our fates. 20 Unto that universal law I bow, Though with unwilling knee, and do allow Her cruel justice, which dispos'd us so That we must counter to our wishes go. 'Twas part of man's first curse, which order'd well, We should not alway with our likings dwell. 'Tis only the Triumphant Church where we Shall in unsever'd neighbourhood agree.

Go then, best soul, and, where You must appear, Restore the day to that dull hemisphere. 30 Ne'er may the hapless night You leave behind Darken the comforts of Your purer mind. May all the blessings wishes can invent Enrich your days, and crown them with content. And though You travel down into the West, May Your life's Sun stand fixed in the East, Far from the weeping set; nor may my ear Take in that killing whisper, You once were.

Thus kiss I Your fair hands, taking my leave, As prisoners at the bar their doom receive. 40 All joys go with You: let sweet peace attend You on the way, and wait Your journey's end. But let Your discontents and sourer fate Remain with me, borne off in my retrait. Might all your crosses, in that sheet of lead Which folds my heavy heart, lie buried: 'Tis the last service I would do You, and the best My wishes ever meant, or tongue profest. Once more I take my leave. And once for all, Our parting shows so like a funeral, 50 It strikes my soul, which hath most right to be Chief Mourner at this sad solemnity.

And think not, Dearest, 'cause this parting knell Is rung in verses, that at Your farewell I only mourn in poetry and ink: No, my pen's melancholy plummets sink So low, they dive where th' hid affections sit, Blotting that paper where my mirth was writ.

Believe 't, that sorrow truest is, which lies Deep in the breast, not floating in the eyes: 60 And he with saddest circumstance doth part, Who seals his farewell with a bleeding heart.

[The Departure.] The special title of this poem was not in Hannah's MS.]

[Line: 6 largest] MS. 'larg_er_'.]

[Line: 47 An irregular line of this kind (for it is practically an Alexandrine) is so very rare in King that one suspects an error, but Hannah notes no MS. variant. Many, perhaps most, contemporary poets would not have hesitated at 'serv'ce', which with 'I'd' adjusts the thing; but our Bishop is seldom rough and still seldomer licentious.]

[Line: 53 this] MS. 'the'.]

[Line: 56 Orig. 'plommets'.]

Paradox.

That it is best for a Young Maid to marry an Old Man.

Fair one, why cannot you an old man love? He may as useful, and more constant prove. Experience shows you that maturer years Are a security against those fears Youth will expose you to; whose wild desire As it is hot, so 'tis as rash as fire. Mark how the blaze extinct in ashes lies, Leaving no brand nor embers when it dies Which might the flame renew: thus soon consumes Youth's wand'ring heat, and vanishes in fumes. 10 When age's riper love unapt to stray Through loose and giddy change of objects, may In your warm bosom like a cinder lie, Quick'ned and kindled by your sparkling eye. 'Tis not deni'd, there are extremes in both Which may the fancy move to like or loathe: Yet of the two you better shall endure To marry with the cramp than calenture. Who would in wisdom choose the Torrid Zone Therein to settle a plantation? 20 Merchants can tell you, those hot climes were made But at the longest for a three years' trade: And though the Indies cast the sweeter smell, Yet health and plenty do more Northward dwell; For where the raging sunbeams burn the earth, Her scorched mantle withers into dearth; Yet when that drought becomes the harvest's curse, Snow doth the tender corn most kindly nurse: Why now then woo you not some snowy head To take you in mere pity to his bed? 30 I doubt the harder task were to persuade Him to love you: for if what I have said In virgins as in vegetals holds true, He'll prove the better nurse to cherish you. Some men we know renown'd for wisdom grown By old records and antique medals shown; Why ought not women then be held most wise Who can produce living antiquities? Besides if care of that main happiness Your sex triumphs in, doth your thoughts possess, 40 I mean your beauty from decay to keep; No wash nor mask is like an old man's sleep. Young wives need never to be sunburnt fear, Who their old husbands for umbrellas wear: How russet looks an orchard on the hill To one that 's water'd by some neighb'ring drill? Are not the floated meadows ever seen To flourish soonest, and hold longest green? You may be sure no moist'ning lacks that bride, Who lies with winter thawing by her side. 50 She should be fruitful too as fields that join Unto the melting waste of Apennine. Whilst the cold morning-drops bedew the rose, It doth nor leaf, nor smell, nor colour lose; Then doubt not, Sweet! Age hath supplies of wet To keep You like that flower in water set. Dripping catarrhs and fontinells are things Will make You think You grew betwixt two springs. And should You not think so, You scarce allow The force or merit of Your marriage-vow; 60 Where maids a new creed learn, and must from thence Believe against their own or others' sense. Else love will nothing differ from neglect, Which turns not to a virtue each defect. I'll say no more but this; you women make Your children's reck'ning by the almanac. I like it well, so you contented are, To choose their fathers by that kalendar. Turn then, old Erra Pater, and there see According to life's posture and degree, 70 What age or what complexion is most fit To make an English maid happy by it; And You shall find, if You will choose a man, Set justly for Your own meridian, Though You perhaps let One and Twenty woo, Your elevation is for Fifty-Two.

[Paradox. That it is best, &c.] After Hannah's omission of The Acquittance it is not surprising that he did not give this or the next--though a greater excess of prudishness appears in the exclusion of The Change, and one begins to think that something more than accident, indolence, or business prevented the appearance of the promised second volume. But if there is some nastiness there is very little naughtiness in them.]

[Line: 33 Some have thought 'vegetal', which was not uncommon in the seventeenth century, a better form than 'vegetable', though this latter has prevailed. It is the French word, and though in Latin there is no 'vegetalis' and there is 'vegetabilis', yet this latter has quite a different sense.]

[Line: 44 Orig. has 'umbrell_ae_s', not 'umbrell_o_s' (or -oes), which seems to be the older form.]

[Line: 46 It would be pardonable to suppose 'drill' an error for 'rill'. But the word is unquestionably used in the sense by Sandys and Jeremy Taylor, and seems to be the same as the slightly older 'trill' in the sense of 'trickle'.]

Paradox.

That Fruition destroys Love.

Love is our Reason's Paradox, which still Against the judgement doth maintain the will: And governs by such arbitrary laws, It only makes the act our liking's cause: We have no brave revenge, but to forgo Our full desires, and starve the tyrant so.

They whom the rising blood tempts not to taste, Preserve a stock of love can never waste; When easy people who their wish enjoy, Like prodigals at once their wealth destroy. 10 Adam till now had stay'd in Paradise Had his desires been bounded by his eyes. When he did more than look, that made th' offence, And forfeited his state of innocence. Fruition therefore is the bane t' undo Both our affection and the subject too. 'Tis Love into worse language to translate, And make it into Lust degenerate: 'Tis to dethrone, and thrust it from the heart, To seat it grossly in the sensual part. 20 Seek for the star that 's shot upon the ground, And nought but a dim jelly there is found. Thus foul and dark our female stars appear, If fall'n or loos'ned once from Virtue's Sphere. Glow-worms shine only look'd on, and let lie, But handled crawl into deformity: So beauty is no longer fair and bright, Than whilst unstained by the appetite: And then it withers like a blasted flower, Some pois'nous worm or spider hath crept o'er. 30 Pygmalion's dotage on the carved stone, Shows amorists their strong illusion. Whilst he to gaze and court it was content, He serv'd as priest at Beauty's monument: But when by looser fires t' embraces led, It prov'd a cold hard statue in his bed. Irregular affects, like madmen's dreams Presented by false lights and broken beams, So long content us, as no near address Shows the weak sense our painted happiness. 40 But when those pleasing shadows us forsake, Or of the substance we a trial make, Like him, deluded by the fancy's mock, We shipwrack 'gainst an alabaster rock. What though thy mistress far from marble be? Her softness will transform and harden thee. Lust is a snake, and Guilt the Gorgon's head, Which Conscience turns to stone, and Joys to lead. Turtles themselves will blush, if put to name The act, whereby they quench their am'rous flame. 50 Who then that 's wise or virtuous, would not fear To catch at pleasures which forbidden were, When those which we count lawful, cannot be Requir'd without some loss of modesty? Ev'n in the marriage-bed, where soft delights Are customary and authoriz'd rites; What are those tributes to the wanton sense, But toleration of Incontinence? For properly you cannot call that Love Which does not from the soul, but humour move. 60 Thus they who worship'd Pan or Isis' Shrine, By the fair front judg'd all within divine: Though ent'ring, found 'twas but a goat or cow To which before their ignorance did bow. Such temples and such goddesses are these Which foolish lovers and admirers please: Who if they chance within the shrine to pry, Find that a beast they thought a Deity. Nor makes it only our opinion less Of what we lik'd before, and now possess; 70 But robs the fuel, and corrupts the spice Which sweetens and inflames Love's sacrifice, After fruition once, what is Desire But ashes kept warm by a dying fire? This is (if any) the Philosopher's Stone Which still miscarries at projection. For when the Heat ad Octo intermits, It poorly takes us like Third Ague fits, Or must on embers as dull drugs infuse, Which we for med'cine not for pleasure use. 80 Since lovers' joys then leave so sick a taste, And soon as relish'd by the sense are past; They are but riddles sure, lost if possest, And therefore only in reversion best. For bate them expectation and delay, You take the most delightful scenes away. These two such rule within the fancy keep, As banquets apprehended in our sleep; After which pleasing trance next morn we wake Empty and angry at the night's mistake. 90 Give me long dreams and visions of content, Rather than pleasures in a minute spent. And since I know before, the shedding rose In that same instant doth her sweetness lose, Upon the virgin-stock still let her dwell For me, to feast my longings with her smell. Those are but counterfeits of joy at best, Which languish soon as brought unto the test. Nor can I hold it worth his pains who tries To in that harvest which by reaping dies. 100

Resolve me now what spirit hath delight, If by full feed you kill the appetite? That stomach healthi'st is, that ne'er was cloy'd, Why not that Love the best then, ne'er enjoy'd? Since nat'rally the blood, when tam'd or sated, Will cool so fast it leaves the object hated. Pleasures, like wonders, quickly lose their price When Reason or Experience makes us wise.

To close my argument then. I dare say (And without Paradox) as well we may 110 Enjoy our Love and yet preserve Desire, As warm our hands by putting out the fire.

[Paradox. That Fruition, &c.] Put less tersely but perhaps better by Dryden's most original heroine, Doralice, in Marriage à la Mode, 'The only way to keep us true to each other is never to enjoy'. The notion is old enough, and several other seventeenth-century poets have treated it.]

[Line: 22 Nobody has ever assigned a (to me, at least) plausible reason for this universal fancy of the seventeenth century about the jellification of shooting-stars. It is curious, but not inexplicable, that Browne does not touch it.]

[Line: 31 King has very coolly turned the Pygmalion story upside down to suit his thesis.]

[Line: 50 The talking and blushing turtle (i.e. dove) is another remarkable poetical licence.]

[Line: 77 Heat ad Octo] An obviously alchemical phrase which I have not interpreted.]

[Line: 100 in] Orig. 'inne' = 'get in'. Cf. _All's Well that Ends Well_, 1. iii, 'to in the crop'.]

The Change.

El sabio muda conscio: El loco persevera.

We lov'd as friends now twenty years and more: Is't time or reason, think you, to give o'er? When, though two prenti'ships set Jacob free, I have not held my Rachel dear at three.

Yet will I not your levity accuse; Continuance sometimes is the worse abuse. In judgement I might rather hold it strange, If, like the fleeting world, you did not change: Be it your wisdom therefore to retract, When perseverance oft is folly's act. 10

In pity I can think, that what you do Hath Justice in't, and some Religion too; For of all virtues Moral or Divine, We know, but Love, none must in Heaven shine: Well did you the presumption then foresee Of counterfeiting immortality: Since had you kept our loves too long alive, We might invade Heaven's prerogative; Or in our progress, like the Jews, comprise The Legend of an earthly Paradise. 20

Live happy, and more prosperous in the next. You have discharg'd your old friend by the text. Farewell, fair Shadow of a female faith, And let this be our friendship's Epitaph:

Affection shares the frailty of our fate, When (like ourselves) 'tis old and out of date: 'Tis just all human loves their period have, When friends are frail and dropping to the grave.

[The Change.] This poem is almost less of a commonplace than any of King's, and the expression is vigorous. The nearest parallel I know to it is Crabbe's 'Natural Death of Love', and like that it has a curious, if not cheerful, ring of actuality. But the case is more unusual. The Spanish motto (rather dog-Spanish in original) means: 'The wise man changes consciously: the fool [or, rather, madman] perseveres.']

[Line: 22 by the text] = 'formally'? as it were, 'by the card'. Or perhaps with direct reference to the motto.]

To my Sister Anne King, who chid me in verse for being angry.

Dear Nan, I would not have thy counsel lost, Though I last night had twice so much been crost; Well is a passion to the market brought, When such a treasure of advice is bought With so much dross. And couldst thou me assure, Each vice of mine should meet with such a cure, I would sin oft, and on my guilty brow Wear every misperfection that I owe, Open and visible; I should not hide But bring my faults abroad: to hear thee chide 10 In such a note, and with a quill so sage, It passion tunes, and calms a tempest's rage.

Well, I am charm'd, and promise to redress What, without shrift, my follies do confess Against myself: wherefore let me entreat, When I fly out in that distemper'd heat Which frets me into fasts, thou wilt reprove That froward spleen in poetry and love: So though I lose my reason in such fits Thou'lt rhyme me back again into my wits. 20

[To my Sister, &c.] Anne King, afterwards Mrs. Dutton and Lady Howe. Howell, the epistoler, admitted her (in rather execrable verse) to that Tenth Museship which has had so many fair incumbents. Izaak Walton left her a ring and called her 'a most generose and ingenious Lady'. The verses assigned to her, which may be found in Hannah's notes, are not of the worst Tenth Muse quality.]

[Line: 2 It has been observed, once or twice, that a placid and philosophical temper does not seem to have been one of the Bishop's gifts, and he here acknowledges the fact.]

[Line: 8 'Owe', as so often noted, = 'own'.]

[Line: 17 And seems to have done due penance for it.]

An Elegy upon the immature loss of the most vertuous Lady Anne Rich.

[Died August 24, 1638.]

I envy not thy mortal triumphs, Death (Thou enemy to Virtue, as to breath), Nor do I wonder much, nor yet complain The weekly numbers by thy arrow slain. The whole world is thy factory, and we, Like traffic, driven and retail'd by Thee: And where the springs of life fill up so fast, Some of the waters needs must run to waste.

It is confess'd, yet must our griefs dispute That which thine own conclusion doth refute, 10 Ere we begin. Hearken! for if thy ear Be to thy throat proportion'd, thou canst hear. Is there no order in the work of Fate? Nor rule, but blindly to anticipate Our growing seasons? or think'st thou 'tis just, To sprinkle our fresh blossoms with thy dust, Till by abortive funerals, thou bring That to an Autumn, Nature meant a Spring? Is't not enough for thee, that wither'd age Lies the unpitied subject of thy rage; 20 But like an ugly amorist, thy crest Must be with spoils of Youth and Beauty drest? In other camps, those which sat down to-day March first to-morrow, and they longest stay, Who last came to the service: but in thine, Only confusion stands for discipline. We fall in such promiscuous heaps, none can Put any diff'rence 'twixt thy rear or van; Since oft the youngest lead thy files. For this, The grieved world here thy accuser is, 30 And I a plaintiff, 'mongst those many ones, Who wet this Lady's urn with zealous moans; As if her ashes, quick'ning into years, Might be again embodied by our tears. But all in vain; the moisture we bestow Shall make as soon her curled marble grow, As render heat or motion to that blood, Which through her veins branch't like an azure flood; Whose now still current in the grave is lost, Lock'd up, and fetter'd by eternal frost. 40

Desist from hence, doting Astrology! To search for hidden wonders in the sky; Or from the concourse of malignant stars, Foretell diseases, gen'ral as our wars: What barren droughts, forerunners of lean dearth, Threaten to starve the plenty of the earth: What horrid forms of darkness must affright The sickly world, hast'ning to that long night Where it must end. If there no portents are, No black eclipses for the Kalendar, 50 Our times sad annals will rememb'red be I' th' loss of bright Northumberland and Thee: Two stars of Court, who in one fatal year By most untimely set drop'd from their sphere. She in the winter took her flight, and soon As her perfections reach'd the point of noon, Wrapt in a cloud, contracted her wish'd stay Unto the measure of a short-liv'd day. But Thou in Summer, like an early rose, By Death's cold hand nipp'd as Thou didst disclose, 60 Took'st a long day to run that narrow stage, Which in two gasping minutes summ'd thy age. And, as the fading rose, when the leaves shed, Lies in its native sweetness buried, Thou in thy virtues bedded and inhearst, Sleep'st with those odours thy pure fame disperst, Where till that Rising Morn thou must remain, In which thy wither'd flowers shall spring again, And greater beauties thy wak'd body vest, Than were at thy departure here possest. 70 So with full eyes we close thy vault. Content (With what thy loss bequeaths us) to lament, And make that use of thy griev'd funeral, As of a crystal broken in the fall; Whose pitied fractures, gather'd up, and set, May smaller mirrors for thy sex beget; There let them view themselves, until they see The end of all their glories shown in Thee. Whilst in the truth of this sad tribute, I Thus strive to canonize thy memory. 80

[Elegy on Lady Anne Rich.] Properly Lady Rich, who had been Lady Anne Cavendish. Her brother Charles was that leader of the 'Ca'ndishers' in Lincolnshire whose defeat and death at Gainsborough, after repeated victories in the spring and summer of 1643, was one of the first and most serious blows to the Royal cause. Waller wrote epitaphs both on him and on his sister, but the best on her is Sidney Godolphin's (v. sup., vol. ii, p. 248). She is one of the candidates for the personage of Waller's 'Amoret', and was not impossibly King's 'A. R.' (v. sup., p. 172).]

[Line: 4 MS. 'arrows'.]

[Line: 38 Which] MS. 'Once'.]

[Line: 48 MS. 'hasting'.]

[Line: 52 Northumberland] Lady Anne Cecil, first wife of Algernon Percy, tenth Earl.]

[Line: 55 winter] December 6, 1637.]

An Elegy upon Mrs. Kirk, unfortunately drowned in Thames.

For all the shipwracks, and the liquid graves Lost men have gain'd within the furrow'd waves, The Sea hath fin'd, and for our wrongs paid use, When its wrought foam a Venus did produce. But what repair wilt thou, unhappy Thames, Afford our loss? thy dull unactive streams Can no new beauty raise, nor yet restore Her who by thee was ravish'd from our shore: Whose death hath stain'd the glory of thy flood, And mix'd the guilty channel with her blood. 10

O Neptune! was thy favour only writ In that loose element where thou dost sit? That, after all this time, thou shouldst repent Thy fairest blessing to the continent? Say, what could urge this Fate? is Thetis dead, Or Amphitrite from thy wet arms fled? Wast thou so poor in Nymphs, that thy moist love Must be maintain'd with pensions from above? If none of these, but that, whilst thou didst sleep Upon thy sandy pillow in the deep, 20 This mischief stole upon us; may our grief Waken thy just revenge on that sly thief, Who, in thy fluid empire, without leave, And unsuspected, durst her life bereave. Henceforth, invert thy order, and provide In gentlest floods a pilot for our guide. Let rugged seas be lov'd, but the brook's smile Shunn'd like the courtship of a crocodile; And where the current doth most smoothly pass, Think for her sake, that stream Death's looking-glass, 30 To show us our destruction is most near, When pleasure hath begot least sense of fear.

Else break thy forked sceptre 'gainst some rock, If thou endure a flatt'ring calm to mock Thy far-fam'd pow'r, and violate that law Which keeps the angry Ocean in awe. Thy trident will grow useless, which doth still Wild tempests, if thou let tame rivers kill.

Meantime, we owe thee nothing. Our first debt Lies cancell'd in thy wat'ry cabinet. 40 We have for Her thou sent'st us from the main, Return'd a Venus back to thee again.

[An Elegy upon Mrs. Kirk, &c.] This and the following were not in Hannah's MS. He, perhaps not quite accurately, regards this as King's only indulgence in what he also regarded as 'the frigid and artificial style popular among his contemporaries'. But he thought it better than the companion piece in Heath's Clarastella (v. inf.). From this latter we learn that Mrs. Kirk was one of the numerous victims of 'shooting the bridge'. The piece is frigid enough certainly, but rather from want of 'conceit' than because of it. (Mr. Thorn-Drury has reminded me of Glapthorne's two elegies on the same subject. They form the last contents of the 1874 reprint and give more detail in their title, 'On the noble and much to be lamented Mrs. Anne Kirk, wife to Mr. Geo. Kirk, Gent. of the Robes and of his Majesty's Bed Chamber, who was unfortunately drowned passing London Bridge, July 6. 1641'.)]

[Line: 3 fin'd] = 'paid fine', as often.]

An Elegy upon the death of Mr. Edward Holt.

Whether thy father's, or disease's rage, More mortal prov'd to thy unhappy age, Our sorrow needs not question; since the first Is known for length and sharpness much the worst. Thy fever yet was kind; which the ninth day For thy misfortunes made an easy way. When th' other barbarous and hectic fit, In nineteen winters did not intermit.

I therefore vainly now not ask thee why Thou didst so soon in thy youth's mid-way die: 10 But in my sense the greater wonder make, Thy long oppressed heart no sooner brake. Of force must the neglected blossom fall, When the tough root becomes unnatural, And to his branches doth that sap deny, Which them with life and verdure should supply. For parents' shame, let it forgotten be, And may the sad example die with thee.

It is not now thy grieved friend's intent To render thee dull Pity's argument. 20 Thou hast a bolder title unto fame, And at Edge Hill thou didst make good the claim; When, in thy Royal Master's cause and war, Thy ventur'd life brought off a noble scar. Nor did thy faithful services desist, Till death untimely strook thee from the list.

Though in that prouder vault, then, which doth tomb Thy ancestors, thy body find not room, Thine own deserts have purchas'd thee a place, Which more renowned is than all thy race; 30 For in this earth thou dost ennobled lie With marks of valour and of loyalty.

[Mr. Edward Holt.] Holt was King's brother-in-law, having married his sister Elizabeth (v. sup., p. 173). He died at Oxford in 1643 while attending the King as Groom of the Bedchamber, and was buried in the Cathedral. His father, who outlived him, was a Baronet, and is again abused by King in his will as having been 'implacable'; but the Bishop apparently thought better of his nephew Sir Robert, who was a stout Royalist and churchman both before and after the Restoration. Walton dedicated his Life of Donne to this Sir Robert Holt. His much-abused grandfather had at any rate set the example of loyalty, and is said to have been plundered or extortioned by Parliamentary 'contributions' or 'compositions' to the amount of about £20,000.]

To my dead friend Ben. Jonson.

[Died August 6, 1637.]

I see that wreath, which doth the wearer arm 'Gainst the quick strokes of thunder, is no charm To keep off Death's pale dart. For, Jonson, then Thou hadst been number'd still with living men. Time's scythe had fear'd thy laurel to invade, Nor thee this subject of our sorrow made.

Amongst those many votaries who come To offer up their garlands at thy tomb; Whilst some more lofty pens, in their bright verse (Like glorious tapers flaming on thy hearse), 10 Shall light the dull and thankless world to see, How great a maim it suffers, wanting thee; Let not thy learned shadow scorn, that I Pay meaner rites unto thy memory; And since I nought can add but in desire, Restore some sparks which leap'd from thine own fire.

What ends soever others' quills invite, I can protest, it was no itch to write, Nor any vain ambition to be read, But merely love and justice to the dead, 20 Which rais'd my fameless Muse; and caus'd her bring These drops, as tribute thrown into that spring, To whose most rich and fruitful bead we owe The purest streams of language which can flow.

For 'tis but truth, thou taught'st the ruder age To speak by grammar, and reform'dst the stage: Thy comic sock induc'd such purged sense, A Lucrece might have heard without offence. Amongst those soaring wits that did dilate Our English, and advance it to the rate 30 And value it now holds, thyself was one Help'd lift it up to such proportion; That thus refin'd and rob'd, it shall not spare With the full Greek or Latin to compare. For what tongue ever durst, but ours, translate Great Tully's eloquence, or Homer's state? Both which in their unblemish'd lustre shine, From Chapman's pen, and from thy Catiline. All I would ask for thee, in recompense Of thy successful toil and time's expense, 40 Is only this poor boon; that those who can Perhaps read French, or talk Italian, Or do the lofty Spaniard affect, To show their skill in foreign dialect, Prove not themselves so unnaturally wise, They therefore should their mother-tongue despise (As if her poets, both for style and wit, Not equall'd, or not pass'd, their best that writ), Until by studying Jonson they have known The height and strength and plenty of their own. 50

Thus in what low earth or neglected room Soe'er thou sleep'st, thy book shall be thy tomb. Thou wilt go down a happy corse, bestrew'd With thine own flowers; and feel thyself renew'd, Whilst thy immortal, never-with'ring bays Shall yearly flourish in thy readers' praise. And when more spreading titles are forgot, Or spite of all their lead and cere-cloth rot, Thou wrapp'd and shrin'd in thine own sheets wilt lie, A relic fam'd by all posterity. 60

[Ben. Jonson.] In orig., as so often, 'Jo_h_nson'. A contribution to Jonsonus Virbius, which, printed nearly twenty years before these Poems, has one slight variant = 'that' for 'who' in l. 7.]

[Line: 5 scythe] Orig. 'sithe', which some great ones (including even the other Johnson) will have to be the proper spelling, and which is certainly usual in Middle English. But 'scythe' is consecrated by the only Sainte Ampoule of orthography--usage; 'sithe' also means 'a path' and 'a sigh', and may be mistaken for 'since', while 'scythe' is unmistakable. And for my part, if I may not have 'scythe' I stickle for 'sigðe'--the undoubted original.]

[Line: 38 It was a little dangerous, in Ben's lifetime, to praise others in company with him. But King here corroborates Drummond's Conversations, in which Ben is made to speak well of Chapman on several occasions, and (more particularly) to declare his Iliad, or part of it, 'well done'.]

[Line: 42 It is rather curious that Drummond (in one of those Marginalia in which he relieves his feelings somewhat subacidly) declares that his robustious guest 'neither understood French nor Italian'.]

An Elegy upon Prince Henry's death

[Died Nov. 6, 1612.]

Keep station, Nature, and rest, Heaven, sure On thy supporters' shoulders, lest, past cure, Thou dash'd in ruin fall, by a grief's weight Will make thy basis shrink, and lay thy height Low as the centre. Hark! and feel it read Through the astonish'd Kingdom, Henry's dead. It is enough; who seeks to aggravate One strain beyond this, prove[s] more sharp his fate Than sad our doom. The world dares not survive To parallel this woe's superlative. 10 O killing Rhetoric of Death! two words Breathe stronger terrors than plague, fire, or swords Ere conquer'd. This were epitaph and verse, Worthy to be prefix'd in Nature's hearse, Or Earth's sad dissolution; whose fall Will be less grievous, though more general: For all the woe ruin e'er buried Sounds in these fatal accents, Henry's dead. Cease then, unable Poetry; thy phrase Is weak and dull to strike us with amaze 20 Worthy thy vaster subject. Let none dare To copy this sad hap, but with despair Hanging at his quill's point. For not a stream Of ink can write, much less improve, this theme. Invention highest wrought by grief or wit Must sink with him, and on his tombstone split; Who, like the dying Sun, tells us the light And glory of our Day set in his Night.

[Prince Henry.] Besides composing these English verses King contributed two Latin sets to Justa Oxoniensium, one of several Oxford tombeaux for the Prince who was taken away from the evil to come. The present poem appears to me (though, of course, the high-strung character of the mourning seems to have been both general and sincere) to be much more 'frigid and artificial' than the Mrs. Anne Kirk. Hannah gives several variants, not merely from his usual MS. but from Malone 21. I have taken those which seem to have some point.]

[Lines: 5-6 For 'Hark ... dead.' the Malone reading is:

Death and horror wed To vent their teeming mischief: Henry's dead.

The other MS., for l. 6, has:

Through the astonisht world, Henry is dead. ]

[Line: 11 Malone MS. 'Compendious Eloquence of Death', &c.]

[Line: 18 For the first half, Malone MS. 'lies in this narrow compass'; the other, 'throngs' for 'lies'.]

An Elegy upon S. W. R.

[Sir W. Raleigh? Executed Oct. 29, 1618.]

I will not weep, for 'twere as great a sin To shed a tear for thee, as to have bin An actor in thy death. Thy life and age Was but a various scene on fortune's stage, With whom thou tugg'st and strov'st ev'n out of breath In thy long toil: ne'er master'd till thy death; And then, despite of trains and cruel wit, Thou didst at once subdue malice and it.

I dare not then so blast thy memory As say I do lament or pity thee. 10 Were I to choose a subject to bestow My pity on, he should be one as low In spirit as desert;--that durst not die, But rather were content by slavery To purchase life: or I would pity those, Thy most industrious and friendly foes; Who, when they thought to make thee scandal's story, Lent thee a swifter flight to Heav'n and glory;-- That thought, by cutting off some wither'd days (Which thou couldst spare them), to eclipse thy praise; 20 Yet gave it brighter foil, made thy ag'd fame Appear more white and fair, than foul their shame: And did promote an execution Which (but for them) Nature and Age had done.

Such worthless things as these were only born To live on Pity's alms (too mean for scorn). Thou diedst an envious wonder, whose high fate The world must still admire, scarce imitate.

[S. W. R.] The initials are not in MS., and the identification, though almost certain, is a conjecture of Hannah's. Almost every line fits Raleigh.]

[Line: 27 envious] Spenser has this sense, to which in some cases the original 'invidious' comes very close.]

An Elegy upon the L. Bishop of London, John King.

[Died on Good Friday, 1621.]

Sad relic of a blessed soul! whose trust We sealed up in this religious dust: O do not thy low exequies suspect, As the cheap arguments of our neglect. 'Twas a commanded duty, that thy grave As little pride as thou thyself should have.

Therefore thy covering is an humble stone, And but a word for thy inscription. When those that in the same earth neighbour thee, Have each his chronicle and pedigree: 10 They have their waving pennons and their flags (Of matches and alliance formal brags), When thou (although from ancestors thou came, Old as the Heptarchy, great as thy name,) Sleep'st there inshrin'd in thy admired parts, And hast no heraldry but thy deserts. Yet let not them their prouder marbles boast, For they rest with less honour, though more cost.

Go, search the world, and with your mattocks wound The groaning bosom of the patient ground: 20 Dig from the hidden veins of her dark womb All that is rare and precious for a tomb; Yet when much treasure, and more time, is spent, You must grant his the nobler monument,

Whose Faith stands o'er him for a hearse, and hath The Resurrection for his epitaph.

[John King.] Hannah thought this piece in bad taste, and a neglect of the dead Bishop's wishes. As epitaphs go this seems rather severe.]

[Line: 8 but a word] Resurgam. Orig. note.]

[Line: 9 neighbour] In St. Paul's.]

[Line: 13 ancestors] The Kings of Devonshire referred to in Introduction.]

Upon the death of my ever desired friend, Doctor Donne, Dean of Paul's.

[Died March 31, 1631.]

To have lived eminent, in a degree Beyond our loftiest flights, that is, like thee; Or t' have had too much merit is not safe; For such excesses find no epitaph. At common graves, we have poetic eyes, Can melt themselves in easy elegies; Each quill can drop his tributary verse, And pin it, with the hatchments, to the hearse: But at thine, poem or inscription (Rich soul of wit and language!) we have none; 10 Indeed a silence does that tomb befit, Where is no herald left to blazon it. Widow'd invention justly doth forbear To come abroad, knowing thou art not here, Late her great patron; whose prerogative Maintain'd and cloth'd her so, as none alive Must now presume to keep her at thy rate, Though he the Indies for her dower estate: Or else that awful fire, which once did burn In thy clear brain, now fall'n into thy urn, 20 Lives there to fright rude empirics from thence, Which might profane thee by their ignorance. Who ever writes of thee, and in a style Unworthy such a theme, does but revile Thy precious dust, and wake a learned spirit Which may revenge his rapes upon thy merit. For all a low-pitch'd fancy can devise, Will prove, at best, but hallow'd injuries.

Thou, like the dying swan, didst lately sing Thy mournful dirge in audience of the king; 30 When pale looks, and faint accents of thy breath, Presented so to life that piece of death, That it was fear'd and prophesied by all Thou thither cam'st to preach thy funeral. O! hadst thou in an elegiac knell Rung out unto the world thine own farewell; And in thy high victorious numbers beat The solemn measure of thy griev'd retreat, Thou might'st the poet's service now have miss'd, As well as then thou didst prevent the priest: 40 And never to the world beholden be So much as for an epitaph for thee.

I do not like the office. Nor is 't fit, Thou, who didst lend our age such sums of wit, Shouldst now reborrow from her bankrupt mine That ore to bury thee, which once was thine. Rather still leave us in thy debt; and know (Exalted soul!) more glory 'tis to owe Unto thy hearse what we can never pay, Than with embased coin those rites defray. 50

Commit we then thee to thyself: nor blame Our drooping loves, which thus to thine own fame Leave thee executor; since, but thy own, No pen could do thee justice, nor bays crown Thy vast desert; save that, we nothing can Depute to be thy ashes' guardian.

So jewellers no art or metal trust To form the diamond, but the diamond's dust.

[Dr. Donne.] This is also found in some editions of Donne's Poems and in Walton's Life, and Hannah took repeated pains to record the variants. I have borrowed those which seemed of importance. King's friendship with Donne (whose executor he was) was peculiarly intimate, as Walton, a friend of both, elaborately testifies. But the greatest of the many great Deans of St. Paul's was certainly 'beyond' King's 'loftiest flights' (or, as Walton read, 'thoughts'), and the Bishop is here below even these.]

[Line: 8 pin it] This was literally done.]

[Line: 30 Refers to Donne's last sermon at Court, to his long illness, and to the ghastly pallor perpetuated by the famous picture of him in his shroud.]

[Line: 37 'High victorious numbers' is not bad, and the whole passage does bare justice to Donne's mastery of the graver epicede, which equalled Jonson's of the lighter.]

[Line: 41 beholden] Some versions have the common form 'behold_ing_'.]

[Line: 44 'Wit'--in that seventeenth-century sense of which Sir Henry Craik has so well defined the object--'not to excite laughter but to compel attention'--was regarded, and rightly, as Donne's special glory, and the best thing written on his death was Carew's

A king who ruled as he thought fit The universal monarchy of Wit. ]

[Line: 49 For 'Unto thy hearse' the Walton version reads 'Thy memory'.]

An Elegy upon the most victorious King of Sweden, Gustavus Adolphus.

[Killed at the battle of Lützen, Nov. 6, 1632.]

Like a cold fatal sweat which ushers death, My thoughts hang on me, and my lab'ring breath Stopp'd up with sighs, my fancy, big with woes, Feels two twinn'd mountains struggle in her throes,-- Of boundless sorrow one,--t' other of sin;-- For less let no one rate it, to begin Where honour ends.--In great Gustavus' flame, That style burnt out, and wasted to a name, Does barely live with us. As when the stuff That fed it, fails, the taper turns to snuff, 10 With this poor snuff, this airy shadow, we Of Fame and Honour must contented be; Since from the vain grasp of our wishes fled Their glorious substance is, now He is dead.

Speak it again, and louder, louder yet; Else, whilst we hear the sound, we shall forget What it delivers. Let hoarse rumour cry, Till she so many echoes multiply, Those may like num'rous witnesses confute Our unbelieving souls, that would dispute 20 And doubt this truth for ever. This one way Is left our incredulity to sway; To waken our deaf sense, and make our ears As open and dilated as our fears; That we may feel the blow, and feeling, grieve, At what we would not fain, but must believe. And in that horrid faith, behold the world From her proud height of expectation hurl'd, Stooping with him, as if she strove to have No lower centre now than Sweden's grave. 30

O could not all thy purchas'd victories Like to thy fame thy flesh immortalize? Were not thy virtue nor thy valour charms To guard thy body from those outward harms Which could not reach thy soul? could not thy spirit Lend somewhat which thy frailty might inherit From thy diviner part, that Death, nor Hate, Nor Envy's bullets e'er could penetrate? Could not thy early trophies in stern fight Torn from the Dane, the Pole, the Moscovite? 40 Which were thy triumph's seeds, as pledges sown, That when thy honour's harvest was ripe grown, With full-summ'd wing thou falcon-like wouldst fly, And cuff the Eagle in the German sky: Forcing his iron beak and feathers feel They were not proof 'gainst thy victorious steel. Could not all these protect thee? or prevail To fright that coward Death, who oft grew pale To look thee and thy battles in the face? Alas! they could not: Destiny gives place 50 To none; nor is it seen that princes' lives Can saved be by their prerogatives. No more was thine; who, clos'd in thy cold lead, Dost from thyself a mournful lecture read Of man's short-dated glory: learn, you kings, You are, like him, but penetrable things; Though you from demi-gods derive your birth You are at best but honourable earth: And howe'er sifted from that coarser bran, Which does compound and knead the common man, 60 Nothing's immortal, or from earth refin'd About you, but your office and your mind. Here then break your false glasses, which present You greater than your Maker ever meant: Make truth your mirror now, since you find all That flatter you, confuted by his fall.

Yet, since it was decreed, thy life's bright Sun Must be eclips'd ere thy full course was run, Be proud thou didst, in thy black obsequies, With greater glory set, than others rise. 70 For in thy death, as life, thou heldest one Most just and regular proportion. Look how the circles drawn by compass meet Indivisibly joined, head to feet, And by continued points which them unite, Grow at once circular and infinite: So did thy Fate and Honour now contend To match thy brave beginning with thy end. Therefore thou hadst, instead of passing bells, The drums' and cannons' thunder for thy knells; 80 And in the field thou didst triumphing die, Closing thy eyelids with a victory: That so by thousands who there lost their breath, King-like thou might'st be waited on in death. Lived Plutarch now, and would of Caesar tell, He could make none but Thee his parallel; Whose tide of glory, swelling to the brim, Needs borrow no addition from him. 90 When did great Julius, in any clime, Achieve so much, and in so small a time? Or if he did, yet shalt Thou in that land Single, for him, and unexampled stand. When o'er the Germans first his Eagle towr'd, What saw the legions which on them he pour'd? But massy bodies, made their swords to try, Subjects, not for his fight, but slavery. In that so vast expanded piece of ground (Now Sweden's theatre and tomb), he found 100 Nothing worth Caesar's valour or his fear, No conqu'ring army, nor a Tilly there, Whose strength, nor wiles, nor practice in the war Might the fierce torrent of thy triumphs bar, But that thy winged sword twice made him yield, Both from his trenches beat, and from the field.

Besides, the Roman thought he had done much, Did he the bank of Rhenus only touch. But though his march was bounded by the Rhine, Not Oder nor the Danube thee confine; 110 And, but thy frailty did thy fame prevent, Thou hadst thy conquests stretch'd to such extent, Thou might'st Vienna reach, and after span From Mulda to the Baltic Ocean.

But death hath spann'd thee: nor must we divine What heir thou leav'st to finish thy design, Or who shall thee succeed, as champion For liberty and for religion.

Thy task is done; as in a watch, the spring, Wound to the height, relaxes with the string: 120 So thy steel nerves of conquest, from their steep Ascent declin'd, lie slack'd in thy last sleep.

Rest then, triumphant soul! for ever rest! And, like the Ph[oe]nix in her spicy nest, Embalm'd with thine own merit, upward fly, Born in a cloud of perfume to the sky. Whilst as in deathless urns, each noble mind Treasures thy ashes which are left behind.

And if perhaps no Cassiopeian spark (Which in the North did thy first rising mark) 130 Shine o'er thy hearse; the breath of our just praise Shall to the firmament thy virtues raise; Then fix, and kindle them into a star, Whose influence may crown thy glorious war.

_----O Famâ ingens, ingentior armis, Rex Gustave, quibus Coelo te laudibus aequem?_ Virgil. Aeneid. lib. 2. [11?]

[Gustavus Adolphus.] This piece had been previously printed in the Swedish Intelligencer, 1633, with other elegies on the subject, one of which (in Malone MS. 21) is also ascribed to King, but without any other evidence, and (as Hannah seems to be right in thinking) very improbably. He gives some variants, only two of which seem to me important enough to reproduce. There are also versions in Rawlinson Poetic MS. 26, fol. 51, and 160, fol. 39.]

[Line: 4 throes] Orig. 'thro_w_s'.]

[Lines: 6-7 Hannah in his note, though in his text he had followed 1657, as above, prefers the reading of the Intelligencer--a full-stop at 'it', and 'To begin', which is to a certain extent supported by a capitalized 'To' in his MS., though there is not a full-stop. He has two notes on the subject, and for a moment I was perplexed. But I feel certain that the 1657 text is right. Hannah's parallel from King's prose, 'I begin there where all must end', is specious, but not convincing. On the other hand, 'To begin, &c.' is wanted to complete 'for less' and to explain 'sin'. Honour, as the next sentence further tells us, perished with Gustavus, and it is a solecism to attempt to continue it in verse. This is, in the Archdeacon's words elsewhere, 'frigid and artificial' enough; but it is also sufficiently 'metaphysical'.]

[Line: 10 Orig. has full-stop at 'snuff', but this (which Hannah keeps and does not comment on) leaves nothing to complete 'as'.]

[Line: 11 airy] For the 'ayerie' of edition and Malone MS., the Intelligencer, and Rawlinson MS. 160 have 'fiery'--I think, in the context, better.]

[Line: 96. Orig. note. Magis triumphati quam victi. Tacit. de Mor. Ger.]

[Lines: 135-7 The end quotation (from Aen. xi. 124-5) is not in MS.]

To my Noble and Judicious Friend Sir Henry Blount upon his Voyage.

Sir, I must ever own myself to be Possess'd with human curiosity Of seeing all that might the sense invite By those two baits of profit and delight: And since I had the wit to understand The terms of native or of foreign land; I have had strong and oft desires to tread Some of those voyages which I have read. Yet still so fruitless have my wishes prov'd, That from my Country's smoke I never mov'd: 10 Nor ever had the fortune (though design'd) To satisfy the wand'rings of my mind. Therefore at last I did with some content, Beguile myself in time, which others spent; Whose art to provinces small lines allots, And represents large kingdoms but in spots. Thus by Ortelius and Mercator's aid Through most of the discover'd world I stray'd. I could with ease double the Southern Cape, And in my passage Afric's wonders take: 20 Then with a speed proportion'd to the scale Northward again, as high as Zemla sail. Oft hath the travel of my eye outrun (Though I sat still) the journey of the Sun: Yet made an end, ere his declining beams Did nightly quench themselves in Thetis' streams. Oft have I gone through Egypt in a day, Not hinder'd by the droughts of Lybia; In which, for lack of water, tides of sand By a dry deluge overflow the land. 30 There I the Pyramids and Cairo see, Still famous for the wars of Tomombee, And its own greatness; whose immured sense Takes forty miles in the circumference. Then without guide, or stronger caravan Which might secure the wild Arabian, Back through the scorched deserts pass, to seek Once the world's Lord, now the beslaved Greek, Made by a Turkish yoke and fortune's hate In language as in mind, degenerate. 40

And here all wrapp'd in pity and amaze I stand, whilst I upon the Sultan gaze; To think how he with pride and rapine fir'd So vast a territory hath acquir'd; And by what daring steps he did become The Asian fear, and scourge of Christendom: How he achiev'd, and kept, and by what arts He did concentre those divided parts; And how he holds that monstrous bulk in awe, By settled rules of tyranny, not Law: 50 So rivers large and rapid streams began, Swelling from drops into an Ocean.

Sure who e'er shall the just extraction bring Of this gigantic power from the spring; Must there confess a higher Ordinance Did it for terror to the earth advance. For mark how 'mongst a lawless straggling crew, Made up of Arab, Saracen, and Jew, The world's disturber, faithless Mahomet Did by impostures an opinion get: 60 O'er whom he first usurps as Prince, and than As prophet does obtrude his Alcoran. Next, how fierce Ottoman his claim made good From that unblest religion, by blood; Whilst he the Eastern kingdoms did deface, To make their ruin his proud Empire's base. Then like a comet blazing in the skies, How death-portending Amurath did rise, When he his horned crescents did display Upon the fatal plains of Servia; 70 And farther still his sanguine tresses spread, Till Croya life and conquests limited. Lastly, how Mahomet thence styl'd the Great, Made Constantine's his own Imperial seat; After that he in one victorious bond Two Empires grasp'd, of Greece and Trebizond.

This, and much more than this, I gladly read, Where my relators it had storyed; Besides that people's manners and their rites, Their warlike discipline and order'd fights; 80 Their desp'rate valour, hard'ned by the sense Of unavoided Fate and Providence: Their habit, and their houses, who confer Less cost on them than on their sepulchre: Their frequent washings, and the several bath Each Meschit to itself annexed hath: What honour they unto the Mufty give, What to the Sovereign under whom they live: What quarter Christians have; how just and free To inoffensive travellers they be: 90 Though I confess, like stomachs fed with news, I took them in for wonder, not for use, Till your experienc'd and authentic pen Taught me to know the places and the men; And made all those suspected truths become Undoubted now, and clear as axiom.

Sir, for this work more than my thanks is due; I am at once inform'd and cur'd by you. So that, were I assur'd I should live o'er My periods of time run out before; 100 Ne'er needed my erratic wish transport Me from my native lists to that resort, Where many at outlandish marts unlade Ingenuous manners, and do only trade For vices and the language. By your eyes I here have made my full discoveries; And all your countries so exactly seen, As in the voyage I had sharer been. By this you make me so; and the whole land Your debtor: which can only understand 110 How much she owes you, when her sons shall try The solid depths of your rare history, Which looks above our gadders' trivial reach, The commonplace of travellers, who teach But table-talk; and seldomly aspire Beyond the country's diet or attire; Whereas your piercing judgement does relate The policy and manage of each State. And since she must here without envy grant That you have further journey'd the Levant 120 Than any noble spirit by her bred Hath in your way as yet adventured; I cannot less in justice from her look, Than that she henceforth canonize your book A rule to all her travellers, and you The brave example; from whose equal view Each knowing reader may himself direct, How he may go abroad to some effect, And not for form: what distance and what trust In those remoter parts observe he must: 130 How he with jealous people may converse, Yet take no hurt himself by that commerce. So when he shall embark'd in dangers be, Which wit and wary caution not foresee; If he partake your valour and your brain, He may perhaps come safely off again, As you have done; though not so richly fraught As this return hath to our staple brought.

I know your modesty shuns vulgar praise, And I have none to bring; but only raise 140 This monument of Honour and of Love, Which your long known deserts so far improve, They leave me doubtful in what style to end, Whether more your admirer or your friend.

[Sir Henry Blount, &c.] Blount (1602-82) was of Trinity College, Oxford, published his Voyage to the Levant in 1636, and was knighted four years later. He was a good Royalist in the early days of the Rebellion, but something of a renegade later. His book has been variously judged, but was very popular, and was translated into more than one foreign language.]

[Line: 61 'Than' for 'then' as often.]

[Line: 76 Orig. 'Tr_a_b_e_zond', which at any rate keeps closer than the usual form to Trapezus.]

[Line: 86 'Meschit' = of course 'mosque'. The form seems to be nearest to the Spanish mezquita.]

[Line: 102 lists] Here in the sense (akin to the flannelly one) of boundary, as in Hamlet, IV. v. 99, 'The ocean, overpeering of his list', and several other Shakespearian places.]

[Lines: 124-5 canonize ... rule] A play of words.]

To my honoured Friend Mr. George Sandys.

It is, Sir, a confess'd intrusion here That I before your labours do appear, Which no loud herald need, that may proclaim Or seek acceptance, but the Author's fame. Much less that should this happy work commend, Whose subject is its licence, and doth send It to the world to be receiv'd and read, Far as the glorious beams of truth are spread.

Nor let it be imagin'd that I look Only with custom's eye upon your book; 10 Or in this service that 'twas my intent T' exclude your person from your argument: I shall profess, much of the love I owe, Doth from the root of our extraction grow; To which though I can little contribute, Yet with a natural joy I must impute To our tribe's honour, what by you is done Worthy the title of a Prelate's son.

And scarcely have two brothers farther borne A father's name, or with more value worn 20 Their own, than two of you; whose pens and feet Have made the distant points of Heav'n to meet; He by exact discoveries of the West, Yourself by painful travels in the East

Some more like you might pow'rfully confute Th' opposers of Priests' marriage by the fruit. And (since 'tis known for all their straight vow'd life, They like the sex in any style but wife) Cause them to change their cloister for that state Which keeps men chaste by vows legitimate: 30 Nor shame to father their relations, Or under nephews' names disguise their sons. This child of yours, born without spurious blot, And fairly midwiv'd as it was begot, Doth so much of the parent's goodness wear, You may be proud to own it for your heir. Whose choice acquits you from the common sin Of such, who finish worse than they begin: You mend upon yourself, and your last strain Does of your first the start in judgement gain; 40 Since what in curious travel was begun, You here conclude in a devotion.

Where in delightful raptures we descry As in a map, Sion's chorography Laid out in so direct and smooth a line, Men need not go about through Palestine: Who seek Christ here will the straight road prefer, As nearer much than by the Sepulchre. For not a limb grows here, but is a path; Which in God's City the blest centre hath: 50 And doth so sweetly on each passion strike, The most fantastic taste will somewhat like. To the unquiet soul Job still from hence Pleads in th' example of his patience. The mortified may hear the wise King preach, When his repentance made him fit to teach. Nor shall the singing Sisters be content To chant at home the Act of Parliament, Turn'd out of reason into rhyme by one Free of his trade, though not of Helicon, 60 Who did in his poetic zeal contend Others' edition by a worse to mend. Here are choice Hymns and Carols for the glad, With melancholy Dirges for the sad: And David (as he could his skill transfer) Speaks like himself by an interpreter. Your Muse rekindled hath the Prophet's fire, And tun'd the strings of his neglected lyre; Making the note and ditty so agree, They now become a perfect harmony. 70

I must confess, I have long wish'd to see The Psalms reduc'd to this conformity: Grieving the songs of Sion should be sung In phrase not diff'ring from a barbarous tongue. As if, by custom warranted, we may Sing that to God we would be loath to say. Far be it from my purpose to upbraid Their honest meaning, who first offer made That book in metre to compile, which you Have mended in the form, and built anew: 80 And it was well, considering the time, Which hardly could distinguish verse and rhyme. But now the language, like the Church, hath won More lustre since the Reformation; None can condemn the wish or labour spent Good matter in good words to represent.

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Minor Poets of the Caroline Period, Vol. III (part 1 of 4)

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