Gondibert: An Heroick Poem

Front matter

GONDIBERT:

AN HEROICK

POEM;

Errata

ERRATA.

IN the PREFACE, pag. 23. line 22. for seven, r. six.

Page Stanza Line Errata Mend. 2 9 1 for Lusty, Lasting. 5 28 1 for Trine Time. 58 76 3 for Thirds Thrids. 64 34 2 for this, His. 70 80 1 for cease, Seise. 153 8 3 for Beedles, Needles 161 67 3 for how, whom. 172 34 4 for morn, Moon. 219 96 2 for lose, Loose. 226 41 2 for weak, ourweaker.

The Authour's Preface To His Much Honour'd Friend Mr Hobs

THE

Authour's

PREFACE

To his much honour'd Friend

Mr HOBS.

Sir,

SInce you have done me the honour to allow this Poem a daily examination as it was writing, I will presume, now it hath attain'd more length, to give you a longer trouble; that you may yield me as great advantages by censuring the Method, as by judging the Numbers and the Matter. And because you shall pass through this New Building with more ease to your disquisition, I will acquaint you what care I took of my materials, ere I began to work.

But first give me leave (remembering with what difficulty the world can shew any Heroick Poem, that in a perfect glass of Nature gives us a familiar and easie view of our selves) to take notice of those quarrels, which the Living have with the Dead: and I will (according as all times have applied their reverence) begin with Homer, who, though he seems to me standing upon the Poets famous hill, like the eminent Sea-mark, by which they have in former Ages steer'd; and though he ought not to be removed from that eminence, lest Posterity should presumptuously mistake their course; yet some (sharply observing how his Successours have proceeded no farther than a perfection of imitating him) say, that as Sea-marks are chiefly usefull to Coasters, and serve not those who have the ambition of Discoverers, that love to sayl in untry'd Seas; so he hath rather prov'd a Guide for those, whose satisfied Wit will not venture beyond the track of others; than to them, who affect a new and remote way of thinking; who esteem it a deficiency and meaness of mind, to stay and depend upon the authority of example.

Some there are, that object that even in the likelyhoods of Story (and Story where ever it seems most likely, grows most pleasant) he doth too frequently intermixe such Fables, as are objects listed above the Eyes of Nature; and as he often interrogates his Muse, not as his rational Spirit but as a Familiar, separated from his body, so her replies bring him where he spends time in immortal conversation; whilest supernaturally he doth often advance his men to the quality of Gods, and depose his Gods to the condition of men.

His Successour to fame, (and consequently to censure) is Virgil; whose toyls nor virtue cannot free him from the peevishness (or rather curiosity) of divers Readers. He is upbraided by some (who perhaps are affected Antiquaries, and make priority of time the measure of excellence) for gaining his renown by the imitation of Hom r: Whilest others (no less bold with that ancient Guide) say, He hath so often led him into Heaven and Hell, till by conversation with Gods and Ghosts, he sometimes deprives us of those natural probabilities in Story, which are instructive to humane life: And others affirm (if it be not irreverence to record their opinion) That even in Wit, he seems deficient by many omissions; as if he had design'd a penance of gravity to himself and to posterity: And by their observing that continued gravity, me thinks they look upon him, as on a Musitian composing of Anthems; whose excellence consists more in the solemness, than in the fancy; and upon the body of his Work, as on the body of a Giant, whose force hath more of strength, than quickness, and of patience than activity.

But these bold Censurers are in danger of so many Enemies, as I shall wisely shrink from them; and onely observe, That if any Disciples of unimitable Virgil can prove so formal, as to esteem Wit (as if it were levity) an imputation to the Heroick Muse (by which malevolent word, Wit, they would disgrace her extraordinary heights) yet if those grave Judges will be held wise, they must endure the fate of Wise men; who always have but few of their society; for many more than consist of their number (perhaps not having the sullenness to be of it) are taken with those bold flights, and think, 'tis with the Muse (whose noble Quarry is men) as with the Eagle, who when he soars high, stoops more prosperously, and is most certain of his prey. And surely Poets (whose business should represent the Worlds true image often to our view) are not less prudent than Painters, who when they draw Landschaps, entertain not the Eye wholly with even Prospect; and a continued Flat; but (for variety) terminate the sight with lofty Hills, whose obscure heads are sometimes in the clouds.

Lucan, who chose to write the greatest actions that ever were allowed to be true (which for fear of contemporary witnesses, oblig'd him to a very close attendance upon Fame) did not observe that such an enterprize rather beseem'd an Historian, than a Poet: for wise Poets think it more worthy to seek out truth in the Passions, than to record the truth of Actions; and practise to describe Mankind, just as we are perswaded or guided by instinct, not particular persons, as they are lifted, or levell'd by the force of Fate, it being nobler to contemplate the general History of Nature, than a selected Diary of Fortune: And Painters are no more than Historians, when they draw eminent persons (though they term that drawing to the life) but when by assembling divers figures in a larger volume, they draw Passions (though they term it but Story) then they increase in dignity and become Poets.

I have been thus hardy to call him to account for the choice of his Argument, not meerly as it was Story, but because the actions he recorded were so eminent, and so near his time, that he could not assist Truth with such ornaments as Poets, for usefull pleasure, have allowed her, lest the fained complection might render the true suspected. And now I will leave to others the presumption of measuring his Hyperboles, by whose space and height they maliciously take the dimension of wit; and so mistake him in his boyling Youth (which had marvellous forces) as we disrelish Wine, when fuming in the Lee.

Statius (with whom we may conclude the old Heroicks) is as accomptable to some for his obligations to Virgil, as Virgil is to others for what he owes to Homer; and more closely than Virgil waits on Homer, doth Statius attend Virgil, and follows him there also where Nature never comes, even into Heaven and Hell: and therefore he cannot escape such as approve the wisdom of the best Dramaticks; who in representation of examples, believe they prevail most on our manners, when they lay the Scene at home in their own Countrey; so much they avoid those remote Regions of Heaven and Hell: as if the People (whom they make civil by an easie communication with reason (and familiar reason is that which is call'd the civility of the Stage) were become more discreet than to have their eyes perswaded by the descending of Gods in gay Clouds, and more manly, than to be frighted with the rising of Ghosts in Smoke.

Tasso (who reviv'd the Heroick flame after it was many Ages quench'd) is held both in time and merit, the first of the Moderns; an honour by which he gains not much, because the number he excells must needs be few, which affords but one fit to succeed him; for I will yield to their opinion, who permit not Ariosto, no nor Du Bartas in this eminent rank of the Heroicks: rather than to make way by their admission for Dante, Marino, and others. Tassos honour too is chiefly allow'd him, where he most endeavours to make Virgil his Pattern: And again, when we consider from whom Virgils spirit is derived, we may observe how rarely humane excellence is found; for Heroick Poesie (which, if it exact in it self, yields not to any other humane work) flow'd but in few, and even those streams descended but from one Grecian Spring; and 'tis with original Poems, as with the Original Pieces of Painters, whose Copies abate the excessive price of the first Hand.

But Tasso, though he came late into the world, must have his share in that Critical War, which never ceases amongst the Learned; and he seems most unfortunate, because his errours, which are deriv'd from the Ancients when examin'd, grow in a great degree excusable in them, and by being his admit no pardon. Such as are his Councel assembled in Heaven, his Witches Expeditions through the Air, and enchanted Woods inhabited with Ghosts. For though the elder Poets (which were then the sacred Priests) fed the World with supernatural Tales, and so compounded the Religion, of Pleasure and Mysterie, (two Ingredients which never fail'd to work upon the People) whilest for the eternity of their Chiefs (more refin'd by education) they surely intended no such vain provision.) Yet a Christian Poet, whose Religion little needs the aids of Invention, hath less occasion to imitate such Fables, as meanly illustrate a probable Heaven, by the fashion and dignity of Courts; and make a resemblance of Hell, out of the Dreams of frighted Women; by which they continue and increase the melancholy mistakes of the People.

Spencer may stand here as the last of this short File of Heroick Poets; Men, whose intellectuals were of so great a making, (though some have thought them lyable to those few Censures we have mentioned) as perhaps they will in worthy memory out-last, even Makers of Laws, and Founders of Empires, and all but such as must therefore live equally with them, because they have recorded their names; and consequently with their own hands led them to the Temple of Fame. And since we have dar'd to remember those exceptions which the Curious have against them, it will not be expected I should forget what is objected against Spencer; whose obsolete Language we are constrained to mention, though it be grown the most vulgar accusation that is laid to his charge.

Language (which is the onely Creature of Man's creation) hath like a Plant, seasons of flourishing and decay; like Plants is remov'd from one soyl to another, and by being so transplanted, doth often gather vigour and increase. But as it is false husbandrie to graft old branches upon young stocks: so we may wonder that our Language (not long before his time created out of a confusion of others, & then beginning to flourish like a new Plant) should (as helps to its increase) receive from his hand, new grafts of old wither'd words. But this vulgar exception, shall onely have the vulgar excuse; which is, that the unlucky choice of his Stanza, hath by repitition of Rhime, brought him to the necessity of many exploded words.

If we proceed from his Language to his Argument, we must observe with others, that his noble and most artfull hands deserv'd to be employed upon matter of a more natural, and therefore of a more usefull kind. His allegorical Story (by many held defective in the connexion) resembling (me thinks) a continuance of extraordinarie Dreams; such as excellent Poets, and Painters, by being over-studious, may have in the beginning of Feavers: And those moral visions are just of so much use to humane application, as painted History, when with the cousenage of lights, it is represented in Scenes, by which we are much less informed than by actions on the Stage.

Thus, Sir, I have (perhaps) taken pains to make you think me malicious, in observing how far the Curious have look'd into the errours of others; Errours which the natural humour of imitation hath made so like in all (even from Homer to Spencer) as the accusations against the first appear but little more than repitition in every process against the rest: and comparing the resemblance of errour in persons of one generation, to that which is in those of another age; we may find it exceeds not any where, notoriously, the ordinary proportion. Such limits to the progress of every thing (even of worthiness as well as defect) doth imitation give: for whilest we imitate others, we can no more excel them, than he that sayls by others Maps can make a new discovery: and to Imitation, Nature (which is the onely visible power, and operation of God) perhaps doth needfully enclineus, to keep us from excesses. For though every man be capable of worthiness and unworthiness (as they are defined by Opinion) yet no man is built strong enough to bear the extremities of either, without unloading himself upon others shoulders, even to the weariness of many. If courage be worthiness, yet where it is over-grown into extreams, it becomes as wilde and hurtfull as ambition; and so what was reverenced for protection, grows to be abhorr'd for oppression: If Learning (which is not Knowledge, but a continu'd Sayling by fantastick and uncertain winds towards it) be worthiness, yet it hath bounds in all Philosophers; and Nature that measur'd those bounds, seems not so partial, as to allow it in any one a much larger extent than in another: as if in our fleshly building, she consider'd the furniture and the room, alike, and together; for as the compass of Diadems commonly fits the whole succession of those Kings that wear them; so throughout the whole World, a very few inches may distinguish the circumference of the heads of their Subjects: Nor need we repine that Nature hath not some Favorites, to whom she doth dispence this Treasure, Knowledge, with a prodigious Liberality. For as there is no one that can be said vastly to exceed all mankind; so divers that have in learning transcended all in some one Province, have corrupted many with that great quantity of false gold; and the authority of their stronger Science hath often serv'd to distract, or pervert their weaker disciples.

And as the qualities which are term'd good, are bounded, so are the bad; and likewise limited, as well as gotten by imitation; for amongst those that are extraordinary, either by birth or brain (for with the usual pride of Poets, I pass by common crowds, as negligently as Princes move from throngs, that are not their own Subjects) we cannot find any one so egregious (admitting cruelty and avarice for the chiefest evils; and errours in government or doctrine, to be the greatest errours) but that divers of former or succeeding times may enter the scales with them, and make the Ballance even; though the passion of Historians would impose the contrary on our belief; who in dispraise of evil Princes, are often as unjust and excessive, as the common People: for there was never any Monarch so cruel, but he had living subjects, nor so avaricious, but that his Subjects were richer than himself; nor ever any disease in government so extreamly infectious, as to make universal Anarchy, or any errour in Doctrine so strong by the Maintainer, but that Truth (though it wrestled with her often, and in many places) hath at some season, and on some ground, made her advantages and successes apparent: Therefore we may conclude, that Nature, for the safety of mankind, hath as well (by dulling and stopping our progress with the constant humour of imitation) given limits to courage and to learning, to wickedness and to errour, as it hath ordain'd the shelves before the shore, to restrain the rage and excesses of the Sea.

But I feel (Sir) that I am falling into the dangerous Fit of a hot Writer; for in stead of performing the promise which begins this Preface, and doth oblige me (after I had given you the judgement of some upon others) to present my self to your censure, I am wandering after new thoughts: but I shall ask your pardon, and return to my undertaking.

My Argument I resolv'd should consist of Christian persons; for since Religion doth generally beget, and govern manners, I thought the example of their actions would prevail most upon our own, by being deriv'd from the same doctrine and authority; as the particular Sects educated by Philosophers, were diligent and piiant to the dictates and fashions of such as deriv'd themselves from the same Master; but lazy and froward to those who convers'd in other Schools: Yet all these Sects pretended to the same beauty, Virtue; though each did court her more fondly, when she was dress'd at their own homes, by the hands of their acquaintance: And so Subjects bred under the Laws of a Prince (though Laws differ not much in Morality, or priviledge throughout the civil World; being every where made for direction of Life, more than for sentences of Death) will rather die near that Prince, defending those they have bin taught, than live by taking new from another.

These were partly the reasons why I chose a Story of such Persons as profess'd Chaistian Religion; but I ought to have been most enclin'd to it, because the Principles of our Religion conduce more to explicable virtue, to plain demonstrative justice, and even to Honour (if Virtue the Mother of Honour be voluntary, and active in the dark, so as she need not Laws to compel her, nor look for witnesses to proclaim her) than any other Religion that e're assembled men to Divine Worship. For that of the Jews doth still consist in a sullen separation of themselves from the rest of humane flesh, which is a fantastical pride of their own cleanness, and an uncivil disdain of the imagined contagiousness of others, and at this day, their cantonizing in Tribes, and shyness of alliance with neighbours, deserves not the term of mutual love, but rather seems a bestial melancholy of herding in their own Walks. That of the Ethnicks, like this of Mahomet, consisted in the vain pride of Empire, and never enjoyn'd a Jewish separation, but drew all Nations together; yet not as their companions of the same species, but as slaves to a Yoke: Their sanctity was Honour, and their Honour onely an impudent courage, or dexterity in destroying. But Christian Religion hath the innocence of village neighbour-hood, and did anciently in its politicks rather promote the interest of Mankind than of States; and rather of all States than of one; for particular endeavours onely in behalf of our own homes, are signs of a narrow moral education, not of the vast kindness of Christian Religion, which likewise ordain'd as well an universal communion of bosoms, as a community of wealth. Such is Christian Religion in the precepts, and was once so in the practice. But I resolv'd my Poem should represent those of a former Age, perceiving 'tis with the servants of Christ, as with other servants under temporal power, who with all cleanness, and even with officious diligence perform their duty in their Masters sight, but still as he grows longer absent, become more slothfull, unclean and false. And this, who ever compares the present with the Primitive times, may too palpably discern.

When I consider'd the actions which I meant to describe, (those inferring the persōs) I was again perswaded rather to chuse those of a former Age, than the present; & in a Century so far remov'd, as might preserve me from their improper examinations, who know not the requisites of a Poem, nor how much pleasure they lose (and even the pleasures of Heroick Poesie are not unprofitable) who take away the liberty of a Poet, and fetter his feet in the shackles of an Historian: For why should a Poet doubt in Story to mend the intrigues of Fortune by more delightfull conveyances of probable fictions, because austere Historians have enter'd into bond to truth? an obligation which were in Poets, as foolish and unnecessary as is the bondage of false Martyrs, who lye in chains for a mistaken opinion: but by this I would imply, that Truth narrative and past, is the Idol of Historians, (who worship a dead thing) and truth operative, and by effects continually alive, is the Mistress of Poets, who hath not her existence in matter, but in reason.

I was likewise more willing to derive my Theme from elder times, as thinking it no little mark of skilfulness to comply with the common Infirmity; for men (even of the best education) discover their eyes to be weak, when they look upon the glory of virtue (which is great actions) and rather endure it at distance than near; being more apt to believe, and love the renown of Predecessors, than of Contemporaries, whose deeds excelling theirs in their own sight, seem to upbraid them, and are not reverenc'd as examples of Virtue, but envi'd as the favours of Fortune: But to make great Actions credible, is the principal Art of Poets; who though they allow the utilitie of Fictions, should not (by altering and subliming Storie) make use of their priviledge to the detriment of the Reader; whose incredulitie (when things are not represented in proportion) doth much allay the relish of his pitie, hope, joy, and other Passions: for we may descend to compare the deceptions in Poesie to those of them that profess dexteritie of Hand, which resembles Conjuring, and to such we come not with the intention of Lawyers to examine the evidence of Facts, but are content (if we like the carriage of their feigned motion) to pay for being well deceiv'd.

As in the choise of time, so of place, I have comply'd with the weakness of the generalitie of men; who think the best objects of their own countrey so little to the size of those abroad, as if they were shew'd them by the wrong end of a Prospective: For man (continuing the appetites of his first Childhood, till he arrive at his second which is more froward) must be quieted with something that he thinks excellent, which he may call his own; but when he sees the like in other places (not staying to compare them) wrangles at all he has. This leads us to observe the craftiness of the Comicks, who are onely willing when they describe humour (and humour is the drunkness of a Nation which no sleep can cure) to lay the Scæne in their own countrey; as knowing we are (like the Son of Noah) so little distasted to behold each others shame, that we delight to see even that of a Father: yet when they would set forth greatness and excellent virtue, (which is the Theme of Tragedie) publickly to the people; they wisely (to avoid the quarrels of neighbourly envie) remove the Scæne from home. And by their example I travell'd too; and Italie (which was once the Stage of the World) I have made the Theatre, where I shew in either Sex, some patterns of humane life, that are (perhaps) fit to be follow'd.

Having told you why I took the actions that should be my Argument from men of our own Religion, and given you reasons for the choyce of the time and place design'd for those actions; I must next acquaint you with the Schools where they were bred; not meaning the Schools where they took their Religion, but Moralitie; for I know Religion is universally rather inherited than taught: and the most effectual Schools of Moralitie are Courts and Camps: Yet towards the first, the people are unquiet through envie; and towards the other through fear; and always jealous of both for Injustice, which is the natural scandal cast upon authoritie and great force. They look upon the outward glory or blaze of Courts, as wild Beasts in dark nights stare on their Hunters Torches; but though the expences of Courts (whereby they shine) is that consuming glory in which the people think their libertie is wasted (for wealth is their libertie and lov'd by them even to jealousie (being themselves a courser sort of Princes, apter to take than to pay) yet Courts (I mean all abstracts of the multitude; either by King, or Assemblies) are not the Schools where men are bred to oppression, but the Temples where sometimes Oppressours take sanctuarie; a safetie which our reason must allow them. For the ancient laws of Sanctuarie (derived from God) provided chiefly for actions that proceeded from necessitie; and who can imagine less than a necessitie of oppressing the people, since they are never willing either to buy their Peace, or to pay for War?

Nor are Camps the Schools of wicked Destroyers, more than the Inns of Court (being the Nurserie of Judges) are the Schools of Murderers; for as Judges are avengers of private men against private Robbers; so are Armies the a- vengers of the Publick against publick Invaders, either civil or forreign: and Invaders are Robbers, though more in countenance than those of the High way, because of their number. Nor is there other difference between Armies when they move towards Sieges or Battel, and Judges moving in their Circuit (during the danger of extraordinarie malefactors) with the guards of the Countie; but that the latter is a less Army, and of less Discipline. If any man can yet doubt of the necessarie use of Armies, let him studie that which was anciently call'd a Monster, the Multitude, (for Wolves are commonly harmless when they are met alone, but very uncivil in Herds) and he will not find that all his kindred by Adam are so tame and gentle, as those Lovers that were bred in Arcadia: or to reform his opinion, let him ask why (during the utmost age of Historie) Cities have been at the charge of defensive Walls, and why Fortification hath been practic'd so long, till it is grown an Art?

I may now believe I have usefully taken from Courts and Camps, the patterns of such as will be fit to be imitated by the most necessary men; and the most necessary men are those who become principal by prerogative of bloud, (which is seldom unassisted with education) or by greatness of mind, which in exact definition is Virtue. The common Crowd (of whom we are hopeless) we desert, being rather to be corrected by laws (where precept is accompanied with punishment) than to be taught by Poesie; for few have arriv'd at the skill of Orpheus, or at his good fortune, whom we may suppose to have met with extraordinarie Grecian Beasts, when so succesfully he reclaim'd them with his Harp. Nor is it needfull that Heroick Poesie should be levell'd to the reach of Common men: for if the examples it presents prevail upon their Chiefs, the delight of Imitation (which we hope we have prov'd to be as effectual to good as to evil) will rectifie by the rules, which those Chiefs establish of their own lives, the lives of all that behold them; for the example of life, doth as much surpass the force of Precept, as Life doth exceed Death.

In the choice of these Objects (which are as Sea-marks to direct the dangerous voyage of life) I thought fit to follow the rule of Coasting Maps, where the Shelves and Rocks are describ'd as well as the safe Channel; the care being equal how to avoid as to proceed: and the Characters of men (whose passions are to be eschew'd) I have deriv'd from the distempers of Love or Ambition: for Love and Ambition are too often the raging Feavers of great minds. Yet Ambition (if the vulgar acception of the word were corrected) would signifie no more than an extraordinary lifting of the feet in the rough ways of Honour, over the impediments of Fortune; and hath a warmth (till it be chaf'd into a Fever) which is necessary for every virtuous breast: for good men are guiltie of too little appetite to greatness, and it either proceeds from that they call contentedness (but contentedness, when examin'd, doth mean something of Lasiness as well as Moderation) or from some melancholy precept of the Cloyster; where they would make life (for which the world was onely made) more unpleasant than Death: as if Nature, the Vicegerent of God (who in providing delightfull varieties, which virtuous greatness can best possess, or assure peaceably to others, implicitly commanded the use of them) should in the necessaries of life (life being her chief business) though in her whole reign she never committed one error, need the counsel of Fryars, whose solitude makes them no more fit for such direction, than Prisoners long fetter'd are for a race.

In saying this, I onely awaken such retir'd men, as evaporate their strength of mind by close and long thinking; and would every where separate the Soul from the Bodie, ere we are dead, by perswading us (though they were both created and have been long companions together) that the preferment of the one must meerly consist in deserting the other; teaching us to court the Grave, as if during the whole lease of life, we were like Moles to live under ground; or as if long and well dying, were the certain means to live in Heaven: Yet Reason (which though the most profitable Talent God hath given us, some Divines would have Philosophers to bury in the Napkin, and not put it to use) perswade us, that the painfull activeness of Virtue (for Faith on which some wholly depend, seems but a contemplative boast till the effects of it grow exemplary by action) will more probably acquire everlasting dignities. And surely if these severe Masters (who though obscure in Cells, take it ill if their very opinions rule not all abroad) did give good men leave to be industrious in getting a Share of governing the world, the Multitudes (which are but Tenants to a few Monarchs) would endure that subjection which God hath decreed them, with better order, and more ease; for the world is onely ill govern'd, because the wicked take more pains to get authority, than the virtuous; for the virtuous are often preach'd into retirement; which is to the publick as unprofitable as their sleep; and the erroneousness of such lazy rest, let Philosophers judge; since Nature (of whose body man thinks himself the chiefest member) hath not any where, at any time, been respited from action (in her, call'd motion) by which she universally preserves and makes Life. Thus much of Ambition which should have succeeded something I was saying of Love.