GONDIBERT: AN HEROIC POEM; WRITTEN BY Sir WILLIAM D'AVENANT.  
LONDON, Printed for John Holden, and are to be sold at his Shop at the sign of the Anchor in the New-Exchange, 1651.   

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 Thirds. 64 34 2 for this, His. 70 80 1 for cease, Seize. 153 8 3 for Beedles, Needles 161 67 3 for how, whom. 172 34 4 for morn, Moon. 219 96 4 for lose, Lose. 226 41 ● for weak, ourweaker.   

THE AUTHOR'S PREFACE To his much honoured Friend Mr HOBBS.  
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 attained 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 show any Heroic Poem, that in a perfect glass of Nature gives us a familiar and easy view of ourselves) 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 seamark, by which they have in former Ages steered; and though he ought not to be removed from that eminence, lest Posterity should presumptuously mistake their course; yet some (sharply observing how his Successors have proceeded no farther than a perfection of imitating him) say, that as Sea-marks are chiefly useful to Coasters, and serve not those who have the ambition of Discoverers, that love to sail in untried Seas; so he hath rather proved a Guide for those, whose satisfied Wit will not venture beyond the tract 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 likelihoods of Story (and Story where ever it seems most likely, grows most pleasant) he doth too frequently intermix 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; whilst supernaturally he doth often advance his men to the quality of Gods, and depose his Gods to the condition of men.  
His Successor to fame, (and consequently to censure) is Virgil; whose toils 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: Whilst 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 designed 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 Musician composing of Anthems; whose excellence consists more in the solemnness, 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 only 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 Heroic 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 World's 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, obliged him to a very close attendance upon Fame) did not observe that such an enterprise rather beseemed 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 persuaded or guided by instinct, not particular persons, as they are lifted, or levelled 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) than they increase in dignity and become Poets.  
I have been thus hardy to call him to account for the choice of his Argument, not merely 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 useful pleasure, have allowed her, le●t the ●ained complexion 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 boiling Youth (which had marvellous forces) as we disrelish Wine, when fuming in the Lee.  
Statius (with whom we may conclude the old Heroics) is as accountable 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 Country; so much they avoid those remote Regions of Heaven and Hell: as if the People (whom they make civil by an easy communication with reason (and familiar reason is that which is called the civility of the Stage) were become more discreet than to have their eyes persuaded by the descending of Gods in gay Clouds, and more manly, than to be frighted with the rising of Ghosts in Smoke.  
Tasso (who revived the Heroic flame after it was many Ages quenched) is held both in time and merit, the first of the Moderns; an honour by which he gains not much, because the number he excels 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 Heroics: rather than to make way by their admission for Dante, Marino, and others. Tasso's honour too is chiefly allowed him, where he most endeavours to make Virgil his Pattern: And again, when we con●ider from whom Virgil's spirit is derived, we may observe how rarely humane excellence is found; for Heroic Poesy (which, if it exact in itself, yields not to any other humane work) flowed 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 abare 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 errors, which are derived from the Ancients when examined, grow in a great degree excusable in them, and by being his admit no pardon. Such as are his Council 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 Mystery, (two Ingredients which never failed to work upon the People) whilst for the eternity of their Chiefs (more refined 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 Heroic Poets; Men, whose intellectuals were of so great a making, (though some have thought them liable to those few Censures we have mentioned) as perhaps they will in worthy memory outlast, 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 dared 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 only Creature of Man's creation) hath like a Plant, seasons of flourishing and decay; like Plants is removed from one soil to another, and by being so transplanted, doth often gather vigour and increase. But as it is false husbandry 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 withered words. But this vulgar exception, shall only have the vulgar excuse; which is, that the unlucky choice of his Stanza, hath by repartition of Rhyme, 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 artful hands deserved to be employed upon matter of a more natural, and therefore of a more useful kind. His allegorical Story (by many held defective in the connexion) resembling (me thinks) a continuance of extraordinary Dreams; such as excellent Poets, and Painters, by being overstudious, may have in the beginning of Fevers: And those moral visions are just of so much use to humane application, as painted History, when with the cozenage 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 looked into the errors of others; Errors 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 repartition in every process against the rest: and comparing the resemblance of error 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 whilst we imitate others, we can no more excel them, than he that sails by others Maps can make a new discovery: and to Imitation, Nature (which is the only 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 overgrown into extremes, it becomes as wild and hurtful as ambition; and so what was reverenced for protection, grows to be abhorred for oppression: If Learning (which is not Knowledge, but a continued Sailing by fantastic and uncertain winds towards it) be worthiness, yet it hath bounds in all Philosophers; and Nature that measured 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 considered 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 Favourites, to whom she doth dispense 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 served to distract, or pervert their weaker disciples.  
And as the qualities which are termed 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 errors in government or doctrine, to be the greatest errors) but that divers of former or succeeding times may enter the scales with them, and make the Balance 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 extremely infectious, as to make universal Anarchy, or any error 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 error, as it hath ordained 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 myself to your censure, I am wandering after new thoughts: but I shall ask your pardon, and return to my undertaking.  
My Argument I resolved 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 derived 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 derived themselves from the same Master; but lazy and froward to those who conversed in other Schools: Yet all these Sects pretended to the same beauty, Virtue; though each did court her more fond, when she was dressed 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 privilege 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 been taught, than live by taking new from another.  
These were partly the reasons why I chose a Story of such Persons as professed Chaistian Religion; but I ought to have been most inclined 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'er 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 Ethnics, like this of Mahomet, consisted in the vain pride of Empire, and never enjoined 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 only an impudent courage, or dexterity in destroying. But Christian Religion hath the innocence of village neighbourhood, and did anciently in its politics rather promote the interest of Mankind than of States; and rather of all States than of one; for particular endeavours only in behalf of our own homes, are signs of a narrow moral education, not of the vast kindness of Christian Religion, which likewise ordained 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 resolved 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 Master's sight, but still as he grows longer absent, become more slothful, unclean and false. And this, who ever compares the present with the Primitive times, may too palpably discern.  
When I considered the actions which I meant to describe, (those inferring the persons) I was again persuaded rather to choose those of a former Age, than the present; & in a Century so far removed, 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 Heroic Poesy 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 delightful conveyances of probable fictions, because austere Historians have entered into bond to truth? an obligation which were in Poets, as foolish and unnecessary as is the bondage of false Martyrs, who lie 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 reverenced as examples of Virtue, but envied as the favours of Fortune: But to make great Actions credible, is the principal Art of Poets; who though they allow the utility of Fictions, should not (by altering and subliming Story) make use of their privilege to the detriment of the Reader; whose incredulity (when things are not represented in proportion) doth much allay the relish of his pity, hope, joy, and other Passions: for we may descend to compare the deceptions in Poesy to those of them that profess dexterity 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 deceived.  
As in the choice of time, so of place, I have complied with the weakness of the generality of men; who think the best objects of their own country so little to the size of those abroad, as if they were showed 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 only willing when they describe humour (and humour is the drunkness of a Nation which no sleep can cure) to lay the Scene in their own country; 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 Tragedy) publicly to the people; they wisely (to avoid the quarrels of neighbourly envy) remove the Scene from home. And by their example I travelled too; and Italy (which was once the Stage of the World) I have made the Theatre, where I show in either Sex, some patterns of humane life, that are (perhaps) fit to be followed.  
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 choice of the time and place designed 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 Morality; for I know Religion is universally rather inherited than taught: and the most effectual Schools of Morality are Courts and Camps: Yet towards the first, the people are unquiet through envy; and towards the other through fear; and always jealous of both for Injustice, which is the natural scandal cast upon authority and great force. They look upon the outward glory or blaze of Courts, as wild Beasts in dark nights stare on their Hunter's Torches; but though the expenses of Courts (whereby they shine) is that consuming glory in which the people think their liberty is wasted (for wealth is their liberty and loved by them even to jealousy (being themselves a courser sort of Princes, apt 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 Oppressors take sanctuary; a safety which our reason must allow them. For the ancient laws of Sanctuary (derived from God) provided chiefly for actions that proceeded from necessity; and who can imagine less than a necessity 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 Destroyer's, more than the Inns of Court (being the Nursery of Judges) are the Schools of Murderers; for as Judges are avengers of private men against private Robbers; so are Armies the avengers of the Public against public Invaders, either civil or foreign: 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 extraordinary malefactors) with the guards of the County; but that the latter is a less Army, and of less Discipline. If any man can yet doubt of the necessary use of Armies, let him study that which was anciently called 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 History) Cities have been at the charge of defensive Walls, and why Fortification hath been practised 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 blood, (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 Poesy; for few have arrived at the skill of Orpheus, or at his good fortune, whom we may suppose to have met with extraordinary Grecian Beasts, when so successfully he reclaimed them with his Harp. Nor is it needful that Heroic Poesy should be levelled 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 proved to be as effectual to good as to evil) will rectify 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 described 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 eschewed) I have derived from the distempers of Love or Ambition: for Love and Ambition are too often the raging Fevers of great minds. Yet Ambition (if the vulgar acception of the word were corrected) would signify 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 chafed into a Fever) which is necessary for every virtuous breast: for good men are guilty of too little appetite to greatness, and it either proceeds from that they call contentedness (but contentedness, when examined, doth mean something of Laziness as well as Moderation) or from some melancholy precept of the Cloister; where they would make life (for which the world was only made) more unpleasant than Death: as if Nature, the Vicegerent of God (who in providing delightful 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 Friars, whose solitude makes them no more fit for such direction, than Prisoners long fettered are for a race.  
In saying this, I only awaken such retired men, as evaporate their strength of mind by close and long thinking; and would every where separate the Soul from the Body, ere we are dead, by persuading us (though they were both created and have been long companions together) that the preferment of the one must merely 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 Talon God hath given us, some Divines would have Philosophers to bury in the Napkin, and not put it to use) persuade us, that the painful 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 Monarches) would endure that subjection which God hath decreed them, with better order, and more ease; for the world is only ill governed, because the wicked take more pains to get authority, than the virtuous; for the virtuous are often preached into retirement; which is to the public 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, called motion) by which she universally preserves and makes Life. Thus much of Ambition which should have succeeded something I was saying of Love.  
Love, in the interpretation of the Envious, is Softness; in the Wicked, good men suspect it for Lust; and in the Good, some spiritual men have given it the name of Charity: And these are but te●ms to this which seems a more considered definition; that indefinite Love is Lust; and Lust when it is determined to one, is Love; This definition too but intrudes itself on what I was about to say, which is (and spoken with soberness though like a Layman) that Love is the most acceptable imposition of Nature, the cause and preservation of Life, and the very healthfulness, of the Mind, as well as of the Body; but Lust (our raging Fever) is more dangerous in Cities, than the Calenture in Ships.  
Now (Sir) I again ask you pardon, for I have again digressed; my immediate business being to tell you, That the distempers of Love and Ambition are the only Characters I designed to expose as objects of terror: and my purpose was also to assure you, that I never meant to prostitute Wickedness in the Images of low and contemptible people, as if I expected the meanest of the multitude for my Readers (since only the Rabble is seen at common executions) nor intended to raise iniquity, to that height of horror, till it might seem the fury of something worse than a beast. In order to the first I believe the Spartans' (who to deter their children from drunkenness, accustomed their Slaves to vomit before them) did by such fulsome examples, rather teach them to disdain the Slaves, than to joath Wine, for Men seldom take notice of the vice in abject persons, especially where necessity constrains it. And in observation of the second, I have thought, that those horrid spectacles (when the latter race of Gladiaters made up the excesses of Roman feasts) did more induce the Guests to detest the cruelty of mankind, than increase their courage by beholding such an impudent scorn of Life.  
I have now given you the account of such provisions as I made for this new Building; and you may next please (having examined the substance) to take a view of the form; and observe if I have methodically and with discretion, disposed of the materials, which with some curiosity I have collected. I cannot discern by any help from reading, or learned men, (who have been to me the best and briefest Indices of Books) that any Nation hath in representment of great actions (either by Heroics or Dramaticks) digested Story into so pleasant and instructive a method as the English by their Drama: and by that regular species (though narratively and not in Dialogue) I have drawn the body of an Heroic Poem: In which I did not only observe the Symmetry (proportioning five Books to five Acts, and Cantos to Scenes, (the Scenes having their number ever governed by occasion) but all the shadowings, happy strokes, secret graces, and even the drapery (which together make the second beauty) I have (I hope) exactly followed: and those compositions of second beauty, I observe in the Drama to be the underwalks, interweaving, or correspondence of lesser design in Scenes, not the great motion of the main plot, and coherence of the Acts.  
The first Act is the general preparative, by rendering the chiefest characters of persons, and ending with something that looks like an obscure promise of design. The second begins with an introducement of new persons, so finishes all the characters, and ends with some little performance of that design which was promised at the parting of the first Act. The third makes a visible correspondence in the underwalks (or lesser intrigues) of persons; and ends with an ample turn of the main design, and expectation of a new. The fourth (ever having occasion to be the longest) gives a notorious turn to all the underwalks, and a counter-turn to that main design which changed in the third. The fifth begins with an entire diversion of the main, and dependant Plots; then makes the general correspondence of the persons more discernible, and ends with an easy untying of those particular knots, which made a contexture of the whole; leaving such satisfaction of probabilities with the Spectator, as may persuade him that neither Fortune in the fate of the Persons, nor the Writer in the Representment, have been unnatural or exorbitant. To these Meanders of the English Stage I have cut out the Walks of my Poem; which in this description may seem intricate and tedious; but will, I hope (when men take pains to visit what they have heard described) appear to them as pleasant as a summer passage on a crooked River, where going about, and turning back, is as delightful as the delays of parting Lovers.  
In placing the Argument (as a Proem) before every Ca●to, I have not wholly followed the example of the Moderns; but averted it from that purpose to which I found it frequently used: for it hath been intended by others, as the contents of the Chapter, or as a Bill of Fare at a Venetian Feast; which is not brought before the meat to raise an expectation, but to satisfy the longing curiosity of the Guests. And that which I have called my Argument, is only meant as an assistance to the Readers memory, by containing brief hints, such, as if all the Arguments were successively read, would make him easily remember the mutual dependencies of the general design; yet each rather mentions every person acting, than their actions: But he is very unskilful that by Narratives before an Historical Poem, prevents expectation; for so he comes to have as little success over the Reader (whom the Writer should surprise, and as it were keep prisoner for a time) as he hath on his Enemies, who commanding a party out to take them (and commonly Readers are justly Enemies to Writers) imparts openly the design ere he begins the action: Or he may be said to be as unluckily officious as he that leads a wooing to a Mistress, one that already hath newly enjoyed her.  
I shall say a little, why I have chosen my inter-woven Stanza of four, though I am not obliged to excuse the choice; for numbers in Verse must, like distinct kinds of Music, be exposed to the uncertain and different taste of several Ears. Yet I may declare, that I believed it would be more pleasant to the Reader, in a Work of length, to give this respite or pause, between every Stanza (having endeavoured that each should contain a period) than to run him out of breath with continued Couplets. Nor doth alternate Rhyme by any lowliness of cadence, make the sound less Heroic, but rather adapt it to a plain and stately composing of Music; and the brevity of the Stanza renders it less subtle to the Composer, and more easy to the Singer; which in stilo recitativo, when the Story is long, is chiefly requisite. And this was indeed (if I shall not betray vanity in my Confession) the reason that prevailed most towards my choice of this Stanza, and my division of the main work into Cantos, every Canto including a sufficient accomplishment of some worthy design or action; for I had so much heat (which you, Sir, may call pride, since pride may be allowed in Pegasus, if it be a praise to other Horses) as to presume they might (like the Works of Homer ere they were joined together, and made a Volume by the Athenian King) be sung at Village-feasts; though not to Monarches after Victory, nor to Armies before battle. For so (as an inspiration of glory into the one, and of valour into the other) did Homer's Spirit, long after his body's rest, wander in music about Greece.  
Thus you have the Model of what I have already built, or shall hereafter join to the same frame. If I be accused of Innovation, or to have transgressed against the method of the Ancients; I shall think myself secure in believing, that a Poet who hath wrought with his own instruments at a new design, is no more answerable for disobedience to Predecessors, than Lawmakers are liable to those old Laws which themselves have repealed.  
Having described the outward frame, the large rooms within, the lesser conveyances, and now the furniture; it were orderly to let you examine the matter of which that furniture is made: But though every Owner who hath the Vanity to show his ornament, or Hangings, must endure the curiosity, and censure of him that beholds them; yet I shall not give you the trouble of enquiring what is, but tell you of what I designed their substance; which is, Wit: And Wit is the laborious, and the lucky resultances of Thought, having towards its excellence (as we say of the strokes of Painting) as well a happiness as care. It is a Web consisting of the subtlest threads; and like that of the Spider, is considerately woven out of ourselves; for a Spider may be said to consider, not only respecting his solemnness and tacit posture (like a grave Scout in ambush for his Enemy) but because all things done, are either from consideration, or chance; and the work of Chance are accomplishments of an instant, having commonly a dissimilitude; but hers are the works of time, and have their contextures alike.  
Wit is not only the luck and labour, but also the dexterity of thought, rounding the world, like the Sun, with unimaginable motion; and bringing swiftly home to the memory, universal surveys. It is the Souls Powder, which when suppressed (as forbidden from flying upward) blows up the restraint, and loseth all force in a farther ascension towards Heaven (the region of God) and yet by nature is much less able to make any inquisition downward towards Hell, the Celestina of the Devil; but breaks through all about it (as far as the utmost it can reach) removes, uncovers, makes way for Light, where Darkness was enclosed, till great bodies are more examinable by being scattered into parcels; and till all that find its strength (but most of mankind are strangers to Wit, as Indians are to Powder) worship it for the effects, as derived from the Deity It is in Divines, Humility, Exemplariness and Moderation; in Statesmen, Gravity, Vigilance, Benign Complacency, Secrecy, Patience and Dispatch; in Leaders of Armies, Valour, Painfulness, Temperance, Bounty, Dexterity in Punishing and Rewarding, and a sacred Certitude of Promise: It is in Poets, a full comprehension of all recited in all these; and an ability to bring those comprehensions into action, when they shall so far forget the true measure of what is of greatest consequence to humanity, (which are things righteous, pleasant and useful) as to think the delights of Greatness equal to that of Poesy; or the Chiefs of any Profession more necessary to the world, than excellent Poets. Lastly, though Wit be not the envy of ignorant Men, 'tis often of evil Statesmen, and of all such imperfect great spirits, as have it in a less degree than Poets: for though no man envies the excellency of that, which in no proportion he ever tasted, (as men cannot be said to envy the condition of Angels) yet we may say the Devil envies the Supremacy of God, because he was in some degree partaker of his glory.  
That which is not, yet is accounted, Wit, I will but slightly remember; which seems very incident to imperfect youth, and sickly age; Young men (as if they were not quite delivered from Childhood, whose first exercise is Language) imagine it consists in the Music of Words, and believe they are made wise by refining their speech, above the vulgar Dialect; which is a mistake almost as great as that of the people, who think Orators, (which is a title that crowns at riper years those that have practised the dexterity of tongue) the ablest men; who are indeed so much more unapt for governing, as they are more fit for Sedition: and it may be said of them as of the Witches of Norway, who can sell a Storm for a Dollar, which for Ten Thousand they cannot allay. From the esteem of speaking they proceed to the admiration of what are commonly called Conceits, things that sound like the knacks or toys of ordinary Epigrammatists: and from thence, after more conversation and variety of objects, grow up to some force of Fancy; Yet even then, like young Hawks, they stray and fly far off, using their liberty as if they would ne'er return to the Lure; and often go at check, ere they can make a steady view, and know their game.  
Old men, that have forgot their first Childhood and are returning to their second, think it lies in agnominations, and in a kind of an alike tinkling of words; or else in a grave telling of wonderful things, or in comparing of times without a discovered partiality; which they perform so ill by favouring the past, that, as 'tis observed, if the bodies of men should grow less, though but an unmeasurable proportion in Seven years, yet reckoning from the Flood, they would not remain in the Stature of Frogs; So if States and particular persons had impaired in government, and increased in wickedness proportionably to what Old men affirm they have done, from their own infancy to their age; all public Policy had been long since Confusion, and the congregated World would not suffice now to people a Village.  
The last thing they suppose to be Wit, is their bitter Morals, when they almost declare themselves Enemies to Youth & Beauty; by which severity they seem cruel as Herod when he surprised the sleeping Children of Bethlem: for Youth is so far from wanting Enemies, that it is mortally its own; so unpractised, that it is everywhere cozened more than a stranger among Jews; & hath an infirmity of sight more hurtful than Blindness to Blind men; for though it cannot choose the way it scorns to be led. And Beauty, though many call themselves her Friends, hath few but such as are false to her: Though the World sets her in a Throne, yet all about her (even her gravest Counsellors) are Traitors, though not in conspiracy, yet in their distinct designs; and to make her certain not only of distress but ruin, she is ever pursued by her most cruel enemy, the great Destroyer, Time. But I will proceed no farther upon old men, nor in recording mistakes; lest finding so many more, than there be Verities, we might believe we walk in as great obscurity as the Egyptians when Darkness was their Plague. Nor will I presume to call the matter of which the Ornaments or Substantial parts of this Poem-are composed, Wit; but only tell you my endeavour was, in bringing Truth (too often absent) home to men's bosoms, to lead her through unfrequented and new ways, and from the most remote Shades; by representing Nature, though not in an affected, yet in an usual dress.  
'Tis now fit, after I have given you so long a survey of the Building, to render you some account of the Builder, that you may know by what time, pains, and assistants I have proceeded, or may hereafter finish my work: and in this I shall take occasion to accuse, and condemn, as papers unworthy of light, all those hasty digestions of thought which were published in my Youth; a sentence not pronounced out of melancholy rigour, but from a cheerful obedience to the just authority, of experience: For that grave Mistress of the World, Experience (in whose profitable School, those before the Flood stayed long, but we like wanton children come thither late, yet too soon are called out of it, and fetched home by Death) hath taught me, that the engendering of unripe age become abortive, and deformed; and that after obtaining more years, those must needs prophesy with ill success, who make use of their Visions in Wine; That when the ancient Poets were valued as Prophets, they were long and painful in watching the correspondence of Causes, ere they presumed to foretell effects: and that 'tis a high pesumption to entertain a Nation (who are Poets standing Guest, and require Monarchical respect) with hasty provisions; as if a Poet might imitate a familiar dispatch of Faulkoners, mount his Pegasus, unhood his Muse, and with a few flights boast he hath provided a feast for a Prince. Such posting upon Pegasus I have long since forborn; and during my Journey in this Work, have moved with a slow pace; that I might make my survays as one that traveled not bring home the names, but the proportion, and nature of things: and in this I am made wise by two great examples; for the friends of Virgil acknowledge he was many years in doing honour to Aeneas (still contracting at night into a closer force, the abundance of his morning strengths) and Statius rather seems to boast, than blush, when he confesses he was twice Seven in renowning the War between Argos and Thebes.  
Next to the usefulness of Time (which here implies ripe age (I believed pains most requisite to this undertaking: for though painfulness in Poets (according to the usual negligence of our Nation in Examining, and their diligence to censure) seems always to discover a want of natural force, and is traduced, as if Poesy concerned the World no more than Dancing; whose only grace is the quickness and facility of motion; and whole perfection is not of such public consequence, that any man can merit much by attaining it with long labour; yet let them consider, and they will find (nor can I stay long ere I convince them in the important use of Poesy) the natural force of a Poet more apparent, by but confessing that great forces ask great labour in managing, than by an arrogant braving the World, when he enters the field with his undisciplined first thoughts: For a wise Poet, like a wise General, will not show his strengths till they are in exact government and order; which are not the postures of chance, but proceed from Vigilance and Labour.  
Yet to such painful Poets some upbraid the want of extemporary fury, or rather inspiration, a dangerous word; which many have of late successfully used; and inspiration is a spiritual Fit, derived from the ancient Ethnic Poets, who then, as they were Priests, were Statesmen too, and probably loved dominion; and as their well dissembling of Inspiration begot them reverence then, equal to that which was paid to Laws; so these, who now profess the same fury, may perhaps by such authentic example pretend authority over the people; It being not unreasonable to imagine, they rather imitate the Greek Poets, than the Hebrew Prophets, since the later were inspired for the use of others; and these, like the former, prophesy for themselves. But though the ancient Poets are excused, as knowing the weak constitution of those Deities from whom they took their Priesthood; and the frequent necessity of dissembling for the ease of Government: yet these (who also from the chief to the meanest are Statesmen and Priests, but have not the luck to be Poets) should not assume such saucy familiarity with a true God.  
From the time and labour required to my Poem, let me proceed to my Assistants; by which I shall not so much attest my own weakness, as discover the difficulties and greatness of such a work: For when Solomon made use of his Neighbours towards his Building, he lost no reputation, nor by demanding those aids was thought a lesser Prince; but rather published his Wisdom in rightly understanding the vast extent of his enterprise: Who likewise with as much glory made use of Fellers of Wood, and Hewers of Stone, as of learned Architects: Nor have I refrained to be obliged to men of any Science, as well mechanical as liberal: Nor when Memory (from that various and plentiful stock, with which all observers are furnished, that have had diversity of life) presented me by chance with any figure, did I lay it aside as useless, because at that instant I was not skilful to manage it artfully? but I have stayed and recorded such objects, till by consulting with right Masters I have disposed of them without mistake; It being no more shame to get Learning at that very time, and from the same Text; when, and by which, we instruct others; than for a froward Scout, discovering the Enemy, to save his own life at a pass, where he than teaches his Party to escape.  
In remembering mine own helps, I have considered those which others in the same necessity have taken; and find that Writers (contrary to my inclination) are apt to be beholding to Books, than to Men; not only as the first are more in their possessions (being more constant Companions than dearest friends) but because they commonly make such use of treasure found in Books, as of other treasure belonging to the Dead, and hidden under ground; for they dispose of both with great secrecy, defacing the shape or images of the one, as much as of the other; through fear of having the original of their stealth or abundance discovered. And the next cause why Writers are more in Libraries than in company, is, that Books are easily opened, and learned men are usually shut up, by a froward or envious humour of retention, or else unfold themselves, so as we may read more of their weakness and vanity, than Wisdom; imitating the Holy-day-custom in great Cities, where the shops of Chaundrie, and slight wares, are familiarly open, but those of solid and staple merchandise are proudly locked up.  
Nor indeed can it be expected that all great Doctors are of so benign a nature, as to take pains in gaining treasure (of which Knowledge is the greatest) with intent to enrich others so easily, as if they stood every where with their Pockets spread, & ready to be picked: nor can we read of any Father, who so far and secretly adopted his Son to a Book of his own writing, as that his Son might be thought Author of that written Wit, as much as his Father was Author of him: Nor of any Husband that to his darling Wife would so far surrender his Wisdom, as that in public, he could endure to let her use his Dictates, as if she would have others think her wiser than himself. By this remembrance of that usual parsimony in owners of Wit, towards such as would make use of their plenty, I lament the fortune of others, and may wish the Reader to congratulate mine; For I have found Friends as ready as Books, to regulate my conceptions, or make them more correct, easy and apparent. But though I am become so wise, by knowing myself, as to believe the thoughts of divers transcend the best which I have written; yet I have admitted from no man any change of my Design, nor very seldom of my sense: For I resolved to have this Poem subsist and continue throughout with the same complexion and spirit; though it appear but like a plain Family, of a neighbourly alliance, who marry into the same moderate quality and garb, and are fearful of introducing strangers of greater rank, lest the shining presence of such, might seem to upbraid, and put all about them out of countenance.  
And now, Sir, that the Reader may (whom Writers are ●ain to court, draw in, and keep with artifice, so shy men grow of Books) believe me worthy of him, I cannot forbear to thank you in public, for examining, correcting, and allowing this Poem in parcels ere it arrived at the contexture: by which you have performed the just degrees of proceeding with Poets; who during the gaiety and wantonness of the Muse, are but as children to Philosophers (though of some Giant race) whose first thoughts (wild, and roaming far off) must be brought home, watched, and inter●ogated, and after they are made more regular, be encouraged and praised for doing well, that they may delight in aiming at perfection. By such a Method the Muse is taught to become Master of her own, and others strength: and who is he so learned (how proud soever with being cherished in the bosom of Fame) that can hope, (when through the several ways of Science, he seeks Nature in her hidden walks) to make his Journey short, unless he call you to be his Guide? and who so guided can suspect his safety, even when he travels through the enemy's Country? for such is the vast field of Learning, where the Learned (though not numerous enough to be an Army) lie as small Parties, maliciously in Ambush, to destroy all new Men that look into their Quarters. And from such, you, and those you lead, are secure; because you move not by common Maps, but have painfully made your own Prospect; and travel now like the Sun, not to inform yourself, but enlighten the world.  
And likewise, when by the strict survey and Government that hath been had over this Poem, I shall think to govern the Reader (who though he be noble, may perhaps judge of supreme Power like a very Commoner, and rather approve authority, when it is in many, than in one) I must acquaint him, that you had not alone the trouble of establishing and destroying; but enjoyed your intervals and ease by Two Colleagues; Two that are worthy to follow you into the Closets of Princes; if the knowledge of Men past, (of whom Books are the remaining minds) or of the present (of whom Conversation is the useful and lawful Spy) may make up such greatness, as is fit for great Courts: or if the rays that proceed from the Poetic Planet, be not a little too strong for the sight of modern Monarches; who now are too seldom taught in their youth, like Eaglets to fortify their eyes by often soaring near the Sun. And though this be here but my testimony, it is too late for any of you to disclaim it; for since you have made it valid by giving yours of GONDIBERT under your hands, you must be content to be used by me, as Princes are by their preferred Subjects; who in the very act of taking honour, return it to the Giver; as benefits received by the creature, manifest the power, and redound to the glory of the Creator.  
I am now, Sir, (to your great comfort, that have been thus ill, and long diverted) arrived at my last consideration, which is to satisfy those who may inquire why I have taken so much pains to become an Author? Or why any man stays so long sweeting at the fire of Invention, to dress the food of the Mind, when Readers have so imperfect Stomaches, as they either devour Books with over hasty Digestion, or grow to loathe them from a surfeit. And why I more especially made my task an Heroic Poem? I shall involve the two first Questions in one; as submitting to be concerned amongst the generality of Writers; whose Enemies being many, and now mine, we must join forces to oppose them.  
Men are chiefly provoked to the toil of compiling Books, by love of Fame, and often by officiousness of Conscience, but seldom with expectation of Riches: for those that spend time in writing to instruct others, may find leisure to inform themselves, how mean the provisions are which busy and studious minds can make for their own sedentary bodies: And Learned men (to whom the rest of the world are but Infants) have the same foolish affection in nourishing others minds, as Pelicans in feeding their young; which is, at the expense of the very subsistence of Life. 'Tis then apparent they proceed by the instigation of Fame, or Conscience; and I believe many are persuaded by the first (of which I am One) and some are commanded by the second. Nor is the desire of Fame so vain as divers have rigidly imagined; Fame being (when belonging to the Living) that which is more gravely called, a steady and necessary reputation; and without it, hereditary Power, or acquired greatness can never quietly govern the World. 'Tis of the dead a musical glory, in which God, the Author of excellent goodness, vouchsafes to take a continual share; For the remembered virtues of Great men are chiefly such of his works (mentioned by King David) as perpetually praise him: and the good fame of the Dead prevails by example, much more than the reputation of the Living, because the later is always suspected by our Envy, but the other is cheerfully allowed, and religiously admired: for Admiration (whose Eyes are ever weak) stands still, and at gaze upon great things acted far off; but when they are near, walks slightly away as from familiar objects. Fame is to our Sons a solid Inheritance, and not useful to remote Posterity; and to our Reason, 'tis the first, though but a little taste of Eternity.  
Those that write by the command of Conscience (thinking themselves able to instruct others, and consequently obliged to it) grow commonly the most voluminous; because the pressures of Conscience are so incessant, that she is never satisfied with doing enough: for such as be newly made the Captives of God (many appearing so to themselves, when they first begin to wear the Fetters of Conscience) are like common slaves, when newly taken; who terrified with a fancy of the severity of absolute Masters, abuse their diligence out of fear, and do ill, rather than appear idle. And this may be the cause why Libraries are more than double lined with Spiritual Books, or Tracts of Morality; the later being the Spiritual Counsels of Laymen; and the newest of such great volumes (being usually but transcriptions or translations) differ so much from the Ancients, as later days from those of old; which difference is no more than an alteration of names by removing the Ethnics to make way for the Saints. These are the effects of their labours, who are provoked to become Authors, merely out of Conscience; and Conscience we may again aver to be often so unskilful and timorous, that it seldom gives a wise and steady account of God; but grows jealous of him as of an Adversary, and is after melancholy visions like a fearful Scout, after he hath ill surveyed the Enemy, who then makes incongruous, long, and terrible Tales.  
Having confessed that the desire of Fame made me a Writer; I must declare, why in my riper age I chose to gain it more especially by an Heroical Poem; and the Heroic, being by most allowed to be the most beautiful of Poems, I shall not need to decide the quarrels of Poets about Degrees of Excellence in Poesy: But 'tis no● amiss ere I avow the usefulness of the Science in general (which was the cause of my undertaking) to remember the value it had from the greatest and most worthy spirits in all Ages: for I will not abstain (though it may give me the reputation but of common reading) to mention, that P●sistratus, (though a Tyrant) lived with the praise, and died with the blessing of all Greece, for gathering the scattered limbs of Homer's Works into a Body: and that great Alexander by publicly conversing with it, attained the universal opinion of Wit; the fame of such inward forces conducing as much to his Conquests, as his Armies abroad: That the Athenian Prisoners were thought worthy of life and liberty for singing the Tragedies of Euripides: That Thebes was saved from destruction by the victor's reverence to the memory of Pindar: That the elder Scipio, (who governed all the civil world) lay continually in the bosom of Ennius: That the great Numantin and Laelius (no less renowned) were openly proud when the Romans believed they assisted Terence in his Comedies: That Augustus (to whom the mysteries of the universal Empire were more familiar, than domestic Dominion to Modern Kings) made Virgil the partner of his joys, and would have divided his businesses with Horace: And that Lucan was the fear and envy of Nero. If we approach nearer our own times, we may add the triumphal Entry which the Papacy gave to Petrar●h; and how much Tasso is still the glory and delight of Italy.  
But as in this hasty Muster of Poets, and listing their confederates, I shall by omitting many, deprive them of that pay which is due from Fame; so I may now by the opinion of some Divines (whom notwithstanding I will reverence in all their distinct habits and fashions of the mind) be held partial, and too bold, by adding to the first number (though I range them upon holy ground, and aside) Moses, David, and Solomon, for their Songs, Psalms, and Anthems; the Second being the acknowledged Favourite of God, whom he had gained by excellent Praises in sacred Poesy. And I fear (since Poesy is the clearest light, by which they find the soul who seek it) that Poets have in their fluent kindness diverted from the right use, and spent too much of that spiritual talon in the honour of mortal Princes: for divine Praise (when in the high perfection, as in Poets, and only in them) is so much the uttermost and whole of Religious worship, that all other parts of Devotion serve but to make it up.  

89  
Praise, is Devotion fit for mighty Minds; 
Gondibert lib. 2. Can. 10 6.   
The differing World's agreeing Sacrifice;  
Where Heaven divided Faiths united finds:  
But Prayer in various discord upward flies.   

90  
For Prayer the Ocean is, where diversely  
Men steer their course, each to a several Coast;  
Where all our interests so discordant be,  
That half beg winds by which the rest are lost.   

91  
By Penitence when We ourselves forsake,  
'Tis but in wise design on piteous Heaven;  
In Praise We nobly give what God may take,  
And are without a Beggars blush forgiven.   

92  
It's utmost force, like Powder's, is unknown;  
And though weak King's excess of Praise may fear,  
Yet when 'tis here, like Powder dangerous grown,  
Heaven's Vault receives what would the Palace tear.   
After this contemplation, how acceptable the voice of Poesy hath been to God, we may (by descending from Heaven to Earth) consider how useful it is to Men; and among Men, Divines are the chief, because ordained to temper the rage of humane power by spiritual menaces, as by sudden and strange threaten madness is frighted into Reason; and they are sent hither as Leigers from God, to conserve in steadfast motion the slippery joints of Government; and to persuade an amity in divided Nations: therefore to Divines I first address myself; and presume to ask them, why, ever since their dominion was first allowed, at the great change of Religions, (though ours more than any inculca●es obedience, as an easy Medicine to cool the impatient and raging world into a quiet rest) mankind hath been more unruly than before? it being, visible that Empire decreased with the increase of Christianity; and that one weak Prince did anciently suffice to govern many strong Nations: but now one little Province is too hard for thei● own wise King; and a small Republic hath Seventy years maintained their Revolt to the disquiet of many Monarches. Or if Divines reply, we cannot expect the good effects of their Office, because their spiritual Dominion is not allowed as absolute, than it may be asked them more severely, why 'tis not allowed? for where ever there hath been great degrees of power, (which hath been often and long in the Church) it discovers (though worldly vicissitude be objected as an excuse) that the managers of such power, since they endeavoured not to enlarge it, believed the increase unrighteous; or were in acting, or contriving that endeavour, either negligent or weak: For Power, like the hasty Vine, climbs up apace to the Supporter; but if not skilfully attended and dressed, in stead of spreading and bearing fruit, grows high and naked; and then (like empty title) being soon useless to others, becomes neglected, and unable to support itself.  
But if Divines have failed in governing Princes (that is, of being entirely believed by them) yet they might obliquely have ruled them, in ruling the People; by whom of late, Princes have been governed; and they might probably rule the People, because the heads of the Church (where ever Christianity is preached) are Tetrarches of Time; of which they command the fourth Division; for to no less the Sabbaths, and Days of Saints amount; and during those days of spiritual triumph, Pulpits are Thrones▪ and the people obliged to open their Ears, and let in the ordinances and commands of Preachers; who likewise are not without some little Regency throughout the rest of the Year; for than they may converse with the Laity, from whom they have commonly such respect (and respect soon opens the door to persuasion) as shows their Congregations not deaf in those holy seasons, when speaking predominates.  
But notwithstanding these advantages, the Pulpit hath little prevailed; for the world is in all Regions reversed, or shaken by disobedience, an Engine with which the great Angels (for such were the Devils, and had faculties much more sublimed than Men) believed they could disorder Heaven. And it is not want of capacity in the lower Auditory that makes Doctrine so unsuccessful; for the people are not simple, since the Gentry (●●en of strongest education) lack sufficient defence against them, and are hourly surprised in (their common Ambushes) their Shops: For on sacred Days they walk gravely and sadly from Temples, as if they had newly buried their sinful Fathers; at night sleep as if they never needed forgiveness; and rise with the next Sun, to lie in wait for the Noble, and the Studious. And though these quiet Co●seners are amongst the People, esteemed their steady Men; yet they honour the courage, and more active parts of such disobedient Spirits, as disdaining thus tamely to deceive, attempt bravely to rob the State; and the State they believe (though the Helm were held by Apostles) would always consist of such Arch-robbers, as who ever strips them, but waves the tedious satisfaction which the Lazy expect from Laws, and comes a shorter way to his own.  
Thus unapt for obedience (in the condition of Beasts whose appetite is Liberty, and their Liberty a licence of Lust) the People have often been, since a long, and notorious power hath continued with Divines; whom though with reverence we accuse for mistaken lenity, yet are we ●●t so cruel to expect they should behave themselves to Sinners like fierce Phinehas, or preach with their Swords drawn, to kill all they cannot persuade: But our meaning is to show how much their Christian meekness hath deceived them in taming this wild monster, the People; and a little to rebuke them for neglecting the assistance of Poets; and for upbraiding the Ethnics, because the Poets managed their Religion; as if Religion could walk more prosperously abroad, than when Morality (respectfully, and bareheaded as her Usher) prepares the way: it being no less true, that during the dominion of Poesy, a willing and peaceful obedience to Superiors becalmed the world; then that obedience, like the marriage yoke, is a restraint more needful and advantageous than liberty; and hath the same reward of pleasant quietness, which it anciently had, when Adam, till his disobedience, enjoyed Paradise. Such are the effects of sacred Poesy, which charms the People with harmonious Precepts; and whose aid Divines should not disdain, since their Lord (the Saviour of the World) vouchsafed to deliver his Doctrine in Parabolical Fictions.  
Those that be of next importance are Leaders of Armies; and such I measure not by the suffrages of the People, who give them respect as Indians worship the evil Spirit, rather for sear of harm, than for affection; but esteem them as the painful Protectors and Enlargers of Empire; by whom it actively moves, and such active motion of Empire is as necessary as the motion of the Sea, where all things would putrify, and infect one another, if the Element were quiet: so is it with men's minds on shore, when that Element of greatness and honour, Empire, stands still; of which the largeness is likewise as needful, as the vastness of the Sea: For God ordained not huge Empire as proportionable to the Bodies, but to the Minds of Men; and the Minds of Men are more monstrous, and require more space for agitation, and the hunting of others, than the bodies of Whales. But he that believes men such moderate Sheep, as that many are peacefully contained in a narrow Fold, may be better informed in America, where little Kings never enjoy a harmless neighbourhood, unless protected defensively amongst themselves, by an Emperor that hath wide possessions, and priority over them, (as in some few places) but when restrained in narrow dominion, where no body commands and hinders their nature, they quarrel like Cocks in a Pit; & the Sun in a days travel there, sees more battles (but not of consequence, because their Kings though many, are little) than in Europe in a Year.  
To Leaders of Armies, as to very necessary Men (whose Office requires the uttermost aids of Art and Nature, and rescues the sword of Justice, when 'tis wrested from supreme Power by Commotion) I am now addressed, and must put them in mind (though not upbraidingly) how much their Mighty Predecessors were anciently obliged to Poets; whose Songs (recording the praises of Conduct and Valour) were esteemed the chiefest rewards of Victory; And since Nature hath made us prone to Imitation (by which we equal the best or the worst) how much those Images of Action prevail upon our minds, which are delightfully drawn by Poets? For the greatest of the Grecian Captains have confessed, that their Counsels have been made wise, and their Courages warm by Homer; and since Praise is a pleasure which God hath invited, and with which he often vouchsafed to be pleased when it was sent him by his own Poet; why is it not lawful for virtuous men to be cherished, and magnified with hearing their Vigilance, Valour, and good Fortune (the latter being more the immediate gift of Heaven, because the effect of an unknown Cause) commended and made eternal in Poesy? But perhaps the Art of praising Armies into great and instant action, by singing their former deeds (an Art with which the Ancients made Empire so large) is too subtle for modern Leaders; who as they cannot reach the heights of Poesy, must be content with a narrow space of Dominion: and narrow Dominion breeds evil, peevish, and vexatious minds, and a National self-opinion, like simple Jewish arrogance; and the Jews were extraordinary proud in a very little Country: For men in contracted governments are but a kind of Prisoners; and Prisoners by long restraint grow wicked, malicious to all abroad, and foolish esteemers of themselves; as if they had wrong in not enjoying every thing which they can only see out of Windows.  
Our last application is to Statesmen, and makers of Laws; who may be reasonably reduced to one; since the second differ no more from the first, than Judges (the Copies of Lawmakers) differ from their Originals: For Judges, like all bold Interpreters, by often altering the Text, make it quite new; and Statesmen (who differ not from Lawmakers in the act, but in the manner of doing) make new Laws presumptuously without the consent of the people; but Legislators more civilly seem to whistle to the Beast, and stroke him into the Yoke: and in the Yoke of State, the people (with too much pampering) grow soon unruly and draw awry; Yet Statesmen and Judges (whose business is Governing, and the thing to be Governed is the People) have amongst us (we being more proud and mistaken than any other famous Nation) looked gravely upon Poetry, and with a negligence that betrayed a Northerly ignorance; as if they believed they could perform the work without it. But Poets (who with wise diligence study the People, and have in all ages by an insensible influence governed their manners) may justly smile when they perceive that Divines, Leaders of Armies, Statesmen & Judges, think Religion, the Sword, or (which is unwritten Law, and a secret Confederacy of Chiefs) Policy, or Law (which is written, but seldom rightly read) can give without the help of the Muses, a long and quiet satisfaction in government: For Religion is to the wicked and saithless (who are many) a jurisdiction against which they readily rebel; because it rules severely, yet promiseth no worldly recompense for obedience; obedience being by every humane Power invited with assurances of visible advantage. The good (who are but few) need not the power of Religion to make them better, the power of Religion proceeding from her threatenings, which though mean weapons, are fitly used, since she hath none but base Enemies. We may observe too, that all Virtuous men are so taken up with the rewards of Heaven, that they live as if out of the World; and no government receives assistance from any man merely as he is good; but as that goodness is active in temporal things.  
The Sword is in the hand of Justice no guard to Government, but then when Justice hath an Army for her own defence; and Armies, if they were not pervertible by Faction, yet are to Commonwealths like King's Physicians to poor Patients; who buy the cure of their disordered bodies at so high a rate, that they may be said to change their Sickness for Famin. Policy (I mean of the Living, not of the Dead; the one being the last rules or designs governing the Instant, the other those laws that began Empire) is as mortal as Statesmen themselves: whose incessant labours make that Hectic seaver of the mind, which insensibly dispatches the Body: and when we trace Statesmen through all the Histories of Courts, we find their Inventions so unnecessary to those that succeed at the Helm, or so much envied as they scarce last in authority till the Inventors are buried: and change of Designs in Statesmen (their designs being the weapons by which States are defended) grows as destructive to Government, as a continual change of various weapons into Armies; which must receive with ruin any sudden assault, when want of practice makes unactiveness. We cannot urge that the ambition of Statesmen (who are obnoxious to the people) doth much disorder Government; because the people's anger, by a perpetual coming in of new Oppressors is so diverted in considering those whom their Eyes but lately left, as they have not time enough to rise for the Public: and evil successors to power are in the troubled stream of State, like succeeding Tides in Rivers, where the Mud of the former is hidden by the filth of the last.  
Laws, if very ancient, grow as doubtful and difficult as Letters on buried Marble, which only Antiquaries read; but if not Old, they want that reverence which is therefore paid to the virtues of Ancestors, because their crimes come not to our remembrance; and yet great men must be long dead whose ills are forgotten. If Laws be New, they must be made either by very Angels, or by Men that have some vices; and those being seen make their Virtues suspected; for the People no more esteem able men, whose defects they know, (though but errors incident to Humanity) than an Enemy values a strong Army having experience of their Errors. And new Laws are held but the projects of necessitous Power, new Nets spread to entangle Us; the Old being accounted too many, since most are believed to be made for Forfeitures: and such letting of blood (though intended by Lawmakers for our health) is to the People always out of Season: for those that love life with too much Passion (and Money is the Lifeblood of the People) ever fear a Consumption. But be Lawmakers as able as Nature or Experience (which is the best Art) can make them; yet though I will not yield the Wicked to be wiser than the Virtuous, I may say, offences are too hard for the Laws, as some Beasts are too wily for their Hunters; and that Vice overgrows Virtue, as much as Weeds grow faster than Medicinable Herbs: or rather that Sin, like the fruitful slime of Nilus, doth increase into so many various shapes of Serpents (whose walks and retreats are winding and unknown) that even Justice, (the painful pursuer of Mischief) is become weary, and amazed.  
After these meditations, me thinks Government resembles a Ship, where though Divines, Leaders of Armies, Statesmen, and Judges are the trusted Pilots; yet it moves by the means of winds, as uncertain as the breath of Opinion; and is laden with the People; a Fraight much loosser, and more dangerous than any other living Stowage; being as troublesome in fair weather, as Horses in a Storm. And how can these Pilots steadyly maintain their course to the Land of Peace and Plenty, since they are often divided at the Helm? For Divines (when they consider great Chiefs) suppose Armies to be sent from God for a temporary Plague, not for continual Jurisdiction; and that God's extreme punishments (of which Armies be the most violent) are ordained to have no more lastingness than extremes in Nature. They think (when they consider Statesmen) Policy hath nothing of the Dove, and being all Serpent, is more dangerous than the dangers it pretends to prevent: and that out-witting (by falsehood and corruption) adverse States, or the People (though the People be often the greater enemy and more perilsom being nearest) is but giving reputation to Sin, and that to maintain the Public by politic evils, is a base prostitution of Religion, and the prostitution of Religion is that unpardonable whoredom, which so much angered the Prophets. They think Law nothing but the Bible forcibly usurped by covetous Lawyers, and disguised in a Paraphrase more obscure than the Text; and that 'tis only want of just reverence to Religion, which doth expose us to the charges and vexations of Law.  
The Leaders of Armies accuse Divines, for unwisely raising the War of the World by opposite Doctrine, and for being more indiscreet in thinking to appease it by persuasion; forgetting that the dispatchful ending of War is blows; and that the natural region for Disputes, when Nations are engaged (though by Religion) is the Field of Battle, not Schools and Academies; which they believe (by their restless controversies) less civil than Camps; as intestine Quarrel is held more barbarous than foreign War. They think Statesmen to them (unless dignified with military Office) but mean Spies, that like African Foxes (who attend on Lions, ranging before and about for their valiant prey) shrink back till the danger be subdued, and then with insatiate hunger come in for a share: Yet sometimes with the Eye of Envy (which enlarges objects like a multiplying glass) they behold these Statesmen, and think them immense as Whales; the motion of whose vast bodies can in a peaceful calm trouble the Ocean till it boil; After a little hasty wonder, they consider them again with disdain of their low constraints at Court; where they must patiently endure the little follies of such small Favourites as wait even near the wisest Thrones; so fantastically weak seem Monarches in the sickness of Care (a fever in the head) when for the humorous pleasure of Diversity, they descen● from purple Beds, and seek their ease upon the ground. These great Leaders say also, that Law moves slowly as with fettered feet, and is too tedious in redress of wrongs; whilst in Army's Justice seems to ride post, and overtakes Offenders ere the contagion of crimes can infect others: and though in Courts and Cities great men fence often with her, and with a forcive sleight put by her sword; yet when she retires to Camps, she is in a posture not only to punish the offences of particular Greatness, but of injurious Nations.  
Statesmen look on Divines as men whose long solitude and Meditations on Heaven hath made them Strangers upon Earth: and 'tis acquaintance with the World, and knowledge of Man that makes abilities of Ruling: for though it may be said that a sufficient belief of Doctrine would beget Obedience (which is the uttermost design of Governing) yet since diversity of Doctrine doth distract all Auditors, and makes them doubtfully dispose their obedience (even towards spiritual powers, on which many would have the temporal depend) therefore Statesmen think themselves more fit to manage Empire, than Divines; whose usefulness consists in persuasion; and persuasion is the last medicine (being the most desperate) which Statesmen apply to the distemper of the People: for their distemper is madness, and madness is best cured with terror and force. They think that Leaders of Armies are to great Empire, as great Rivers to the continent; which make an easy access of such benefits as the Metropolis (the seat of Power) would else at vast distances with difficulty reach: yet often like proud Rivers when they swell, they destroy more by once overflowing their borders at home, than they have in long time acquired from abroad: They are to little Empire like the Sea to low Islands, by nature a defence from Foreigners, but by accident, when they rage, a deluge to their own shore. And at all seasons Statesmen believe them more dangerous to Government than themselves: for the popularity of Statesmen is not so frequent as that of Generals; or if by rare sufficiency of Art it be gained; yet the force of crowds in Cities, compared to the validity of men of Arms, and discipline, would appear like a great number of Sheep to a few Wolves, rather a cause of Comfort than of Terror. They think that chief Ministers of Law by unskilful integrity, or love of popularity (which shows the Mind, as meanly born as bred) so earnestly pursue the protection of the People's right, that they neglect public Interest; & though the People's right and public Interest be the same, yet usually by the People, the Ministers of Law mean private men, and by the other the State; and so the State and the People are divided, as we may say a man is divided within himself, when Reason and passion (and Passion is folly) dispute about consequent actions; and if we were called to assist at such intestine War, we must side with Reason, according to our duty, by the Law of Nature; and Nature's Law, though not written in Stone (as was the Law of Religion) hath taken deep impression in the Heart of Man, which is harder than marble of Mount-Sinai.  
Chief Ministers of Law, think, Divines in government should like the Penal Statutes, be choicely, and but seldom used; for as those Statutes are rigorously inquisitive after venial faults, (punishing our very manners and weak constitution, as well as insolent appetite; so Divines (that are made vehement with contemplating the dignity of the Offended, (which is God) more than the frailty of the Offender) govern as if men could be made Angels, ere they come to Heaven.  
Great Ministers of Law think likewise that Leaders of Armies are like ill Physicians; only fit for desperate cures, whose boldness calls in the assistance of Fortune, during the fears and troubles of Art; Yet the health they give to a distempered State is not more accidental, than the preservation of it is uncertain; because they often grow vain with success, and encourage a restored State to such hazards, as show like irregularity of life in other recovered bodies; such as the cautious and ancient gravity of Law dissuaded: For Law (whose temperate design is safety) rather prevents by constancy of Medicine (like a continued Diet) diseases in the body politic, than depends after a permitted Sickness upon the chance of recovery. They think Statesmen strive to be as much Judges of Law as themselves; being chief Ministers of Law, are Judges of the People, and that even good Statesmen pervert the Law more than evil Judges: For Law was anciently meant a defensive Armour, and the People took it as from the Magazine of Justice, to keep them safe from each others violence; but Satesmen use it as offensive Arms, with which in foraging to get relief for Supreme Power, they often wound the Public.  
Thus we have first observed the Four chief aids of Government, (Religion, Arms, Policy, and Law) defectively applied, and then we have found them weak by an emulous war amongst themselves: it follows next, we should introduce to strengthen those principal aids (still making the People our direct object) some collateral help; which I will safely presume to consist in Poesy.  
We have observed that the People since the latter time of Christian Religion, are more unquiet than in former Ages; so disobedient and fierce, as if they would shake off the ancient imputation of being Beasts, by showing their Masters they know their own strength: and we shall not err by supposing that this conjunction of fourfold Power hath failed in the effects of authority by a mis-application; for it hath rather endeavoured to prevail upon their bodies, than their minds; forgetting that the martial art of constraining is the best, which assaults the weaker part; and the weakest part of the people is their minds; for want of that which is the minds only strength, Education; but their Bodies are strong by continual labour; for Labour is the Education of the Body. Yet when I mention the mis-application of force, I should have said, they have not only failed by that, but by a main error; Because the subject on which they should work, is the Mind; and the Mind can never be constrained, though it may be gained by persuasion: And since Persuasion is the principal instrument, which can bring to fashion the brittle and misshapen metal of the Mind, none are so fit to this important work as Poets; whose art is more than any, enabled with a voluntary, and cheerful assistance of Nature; and whose operations are as restless, secret, easy and subtle, as is the influence of Planets.  
I must not forget (lest I be prevented by the vigilance of the Reader) that I have professed not to represent the beauty of Virtue in my Poem, with hope to persuade common men; and I have said, that Divines have failed in discharging their share of Government, by depending upon the effects of persuasion; and that Statesmen in managing the people, rely not upon the persuasion of Divines, but upon force. In my despair of reducing the minds of Common men, I have not confessed any weakness of Poesy in the general Science; but rather inferred the particular strength of the Heroic; which hath a force that overmatches the infancy of such minds as are enabled by degrees of Education; but there are lesser forces in other kinds of Poesy, by which they may train and prepare their understandings; and Princes and Nobles being reformed and made Angelical by the Heroics, will be predominant lights, which the people cannot choose but use for direction; as Glow-worm's take in, and keep the Sun's beams till they shine, and make day to themselves.  
In saying that Divines have vainly hoped to continue the peace of Government by persuasion, I have employed such persuasions as are accompanied with threatenings, and seconded by force; which are the persuasions of Pulpits; where is presented to the obstinate, Hell after Death; and the civil Magistrate during life constrains such obedience as the Church doth ordain. But the persuasions of Poesy, in stead of menaces, are Harmonious and Delightful Insinuations, and never any constraint; unless the ravishment of Reason, may be called Force. And such Force (contrary to that which Divines, Commanders, Statesmen and Lawyers use) begets such obedience as is never weary or grieved.  
In declaring that Statesmen think not the State wholly secure by such manners as are bred from the persuasions of Divines, but more willingly make Government rely upon military-force, I have neither concluded that Poets are unprofitable, nor that Statesmen think so; for the wisdom of Poets, would first make the Images of Virtue so amiable, that her beholders should not be able to look off (rather gently and delightfully infusing, than inculcating Precepts) and then when the mind is conquered, like a willing Bride, Force should so behave itself, as noble Husbands use their power; that is, by letting their Wives see the Dignity and Prerogative of our Sex (which is the Husband's harmless conquest of Peace) continually maintained to hinder Disobedience, rather than rigorously impose Duty: But to such an easy government, neither the People which are subjects to Kings and States) nor Wives which are subject to Husbands) can peacefully yield, unless they are first conquered by Virtue; and the Conquests of Virtue be never easy, but where her forces are commanded by Poets.  
It may be objected, that the education of the People's minds (from whence virtuous Manners are derived) by the several kinds of Poesy (of which the Dramatic hath been in all Ages very successful) is opposite to the received opinion, that the people ought to be continued in ignorance; a Maxim sounding like the little subtlety of one that is a State's man only by Birth or Beard, and merits not his place by much thinking: For Ignorance is rude, sensorious, jealous, obstinate, and proud; these being exactly the ingredients of which Disobedience is made; and Obedience proceeds from ample consideration; of which knowledge consists; and knowledge will soon put into one Scale the weight of oppression, and in the other, the heavy burden which Disobedience lays on us in the effects of civil War: & then even Tyranny will seem much lighter, when the hand of supreme Power binds up our Load, and lays it artfully on us, than Disobedience (the Parent of Confusion) when we all load one another; in which every one irregularly increases his fellows burdens, to lessen his own.  
Others may object that Poesy on our Stage, or the Heroic in Music (for so the latter was anciently used) is prejudicial to a State; as begetting Levity, and giving the people too great a diversion by pleasure and mirth. To these (if they be worthy of satisfaction) I reply, That whoever in Government endeavours to make the people serious and grave, (which are attributes that may become the people's Representatives, but not the people) doth practise a new way to enlarge the State, by making every Subject a Statesman: and he that means to govern so mournfully (as it were, without any Music in his Dominion) must lay but light burdens on his Subjects; or else he wants the ordinary wisdom of those, who to their Beasts, that are much loaden whistle all the day to encourage their Travel. For that supreme Power which expects a firm obedience in those, who are not used to rejoicing, but live sadly, as if they were still preparing for the funeral of Peace, hath little skill in contriving the lastingness of Government, which is the principal work of Art; And less hath that Power considered Nature; as if such new austerity did seem to tax, even her, for want of gravity, in bringing in the Spring so merrily with a musical variety of Birds; And such sullen power doth forget, that Battles (the most solemn and serious business of Death) are begun with Trumpets and Fifes; and anciently were continued with more diversity of Musics. And that the Grecian Laws (Laws being the gravest endeavour of humane Counsels, for the ease of Life) were long before the days of Lycurgus (to make them more pleasant to memory) published in Verse: And that the wise Athenians (dividing into three Parts the public Revenue) expended one in Plays and Shows, to divert the people from meeting to consult of their Ruler's merit, and the defects of Government: And that the Romans had not so long continued their Empire, but for the same diversions, at a vaster charge.  
Again it may be objected, that the Precepts of Christian Religion are sufficient towards our regulation, by appointment of manners, and towards the ease of Life, by imposing obedience; so that the moral assistance of Poesy, is but vainly intruded. To this I may answer, That as no man should suspect the sufficiency of Religion by its insuccessfulness; so if the insuccessfulness be confessed, we shall as little disparage Religion, by bringing in more aids when 'tis in action, as a General dishonours himself by endeavouring with more of his own Forces, to make sure an attempt that hath a while miscarried: For Poesy, which (like contracted Essences seems the utmost strength and activity of Nature) is as all good Arts, subservient to Religion; all marching under the same Banner, though of less discipline and esteem. And as Poesy is the best Expositor of Nature (Nature being mysterious to such as use not to consider) so Nature is the best Interpreter of God; and more cannot be said of Religion. And when the Judges of Religion (which are the Chiefs of the Church) neglect the help of Moralists in reforming the people, (and Poets are of all Moralists the most useful) they give a sentence against the Law of Nature: For Nature performs all things by correspondent aids and harmony. And 'tis injurious not to think Poets the most useful Moralists; for as Poesy is adorned and sublimed by Music, which makes it more pleasant and acceptable; so morality is sweetened and made more amiable by Poesy. And the Austerity of some Divines may be the cause why Religion hath not more prevailed upon the manners of Men: for great Doctors should rather comply with things that please (as the wise Apostle did with Ceremonies) than lose a Proselyte. And even Honour (taught by moral Philosophers, but more delightfully infused by Poets) will appear (notwithstanding the sad severity of some latter Divines) no unfase Guide towards Piety: for it is as wary and nice as Conscience, though more cheerful and courageous. And however Honour be more pleasing to flesh and blood, because in this World it finds applause; yet 'tis not so mercenary as Piety: for Piety (being of all her expectations inwardly assured) expects a reward in Heaven, to which all earthly payments compared, are but Shadows, and Sand.  
And it appears that Poesy hath for its natural prevailings over the Understandings of Men (sometimes making her conquests with easy plainness, like Native country Beauty) been very successful in the most grave and important occasions, that the necessities of States or Mankind have produced. For it may be said that Demosthenes saved the Athenians by the Fable or Parable of the Dogs and Wolves, in answer to King Philip's Proposition; And that Menenius Agrippa saved the Senate, if not Rome, by that of the Belly, and the Hands: and that even our Saviour was pleased (as the most prevalent way of Doctrine) wholly to use such kind of Parables in his converting, or saving of Souls; it being written, Without a Parable spoke he not to them. And had not the learned Apostle thought the wisdom of Poets worthy his remembrance▪ and instructive, not only to Heathens, but to Christians, he had not cited Epimenides to the Cretans, as well as Aratus to the Athenians.  
I cannot also be ignorant that divers (whose conscientious Melancholy amazes and discourages others Devotion) will accuse Poets as the admirers of Beauty; and Inventors, or Provokers of that which by way of aspersion they call Love. But such, in their first accusation seem to look carelessly and unthankfully upon the wonderful works of God; or else through low education, or age, become incompetent Judges of what is the chief of his works upon Earth. And Poets, when they praise Beauty, are at least as lawfully thankful to God, as when they praise Seas, Woods, Rivers, or any other parts that make up a prospect of the world. Nor can it be imagined but that Poets in praising them, praise wholly the Maker; and so in praising Beauty: For that Woman who believes she is praised when her beauty is commended, may as well suppose that Poets thinks she created herself: And he that praises the inward beauty of Women, which is their Virtue, doth more perform his duty than before: for our envious silence in not approving, and so encouraging what is good, is the cause that vice is more in fashion and countenance than Virtue. But when Poets praise that which is not beauty, or the mind which is not virtuous, they err through their mistake, or by flattery; and flattery is a crime so much prosperous in others who are companions to greatness, that it may be held in Poets rather kindness than design.  
They who accuse Poets as provokers of Love, are Enemies to Nature; and all affronts to Nature are offences to God, as insolences to all subordinate officers of the Crown are rudenesses to the King. Love (in the most obnoxious interpretation) is Nature's Preparative to her greatest work, which is the making of Life. And since the severest Divines of these latter times have not been ashamed publicly to command and define the most secret duties, and entertainments of Love in the Married; why should not Poets civility endeavour to make a Friendship between the Guests before they meet, by teaching them to dignify each other with the utmost of estimation. And Marriage in Mankind were as rude and unprepared as the hasty elections of other Creatures, but for acquaintance, and conversation before it: and that must be an acquaintance of Minds, not of bodies; and of the Mind, Poesy is the most natural and delightful Interpreter.  
When neither Religion (which is our art towards God) nor Nature (which is God's first Law to Man, though by Man least studied) nor when Reason (which is Nature, and made art by Experience) can by the enemies of Poesy be sufficiently urged against it, than some (whose frowardness will not let them quit an evil cause) plead written Authority. And though such authority be a Weapon, which even in the War of Religion, distressed disputers take up, as their last shift; yet here we would protest against it, but that we find it makes a false defence, and leaves the Enemy more open. This Authority (which is but single too) is from Plato; and him some have maliciously quoted; as if in his feigned Commonwealth he had banished all Poets. But Plato says nothing against Poets in general; and in his particular quarrel (which is to Homer, and Hesiod) only condemns such errors as we mentioned in the beginning of this Preface, when we looked upon the Ancients. And those errors consist in their abasing Religion, by representing the Gods in evil proportion, and their Heroes with as unequal Characters; and so brought Vices into fashion, by intermixing them with the virtues of great persons. Yet even during this divine anger of Plato, he concludes not against Poesy, but the Poems than most in request: For these be the words of his Law: If any Man (having ability to imitate what he pleases) imitate in his Poems both good and evil, let him be reverenced, as a sacred, admirable, and pleasant Person; but be it likewise known, he must have no place in our Commonwealth. And yet before his banishment he allows him, the honour of a Diadem, a●d sweet Odours to anoint his Head: And afterwards says, Let us make use of more profitable, though more severe, and less pleasant Poets, who can imitate that which is for the honour and benefit of the Commonwealth. But those who make use of this just indignation of Plato to the unjust scandal of Presie, have the common craft of False Witnesses, enlarging every circumstance, when it may hurt, and concealing all things that may defend him they oppose. For they will not remember how much the Scholar of Plato (who like an absolute Monarch over Arts, hath almost silenced his Master throughout the Schools of Europe) labours to make Poesy universally current, by giving Laws to the Science: Nor will they take notice, in what dignity it continued whilst the Greeks kept their dominion, or Language; and how much the Romans cherished even the public repetition of Verses: Nor will they vouchsafe to observe (though Juvenal take care to record it) how gladly all Rome (during that exercise) ran to the voice of Statius.  
Thus having taken measure (though hastily) of the extent of those great Professions that in Government contribute to the necessities, ease, and lawful pleasures of Men; and finding Poesy as useful now, as the Ancients found it towards perfection and happiness; I will, Sir, (unless with these Two Books you return me a discouragement) cheerfully proceed: and though a little time would make way for the Third, and make it fit for the Press, I am resolved rather to hazard the inconvenience which expectation breeds, (for divers with no ill satisfaction have had a taste of Gondibert) than endure that violent envy which assaults all Writers whilst they live; though their Papers be but filled with very negligent and ordinary thoughts: and therefore I delay the publication of any part of the Poem, till I can send it you from America; whither I now speedily prepare; having the folly to hope, that when I am in another World (though not in the common sense of dying) I shall find my Readers (even the Poets of the present Age) as temperate, and benign, as we are all to the Dead, whose remote excellence cannot hinder our reputation. And now, Sir, to end with the Allegory which I have so long continued, I shall, (after all 〈◊〉 busy vanity in showing and describing my new Building) with great quietness, being almost as weary as yourself, bring you to the Backdoor, that you may make no review but in my absence; and steal hastily from you, as one who is ashamed of all the trouble you have received from,  
(SIR) Your most humble, and most affectionate Servant From the Lowre in Paris, January 2. 1650. WIL D'AVENANT.   

THE ANSWER OF Mr. HOBBES TO Sr. WILL. DAVENANT'S PREFACE before GONDIBERT.  
SIR,  
IF to commend your Poem, I should only say (in general Terms) that in the choice of your Argument, the disposition of the parts, the maintenance of the Characters of your Persons, the dignity and vigour of your expression, you have performed all the parts of various experience, ready memory, clear judgement, swift and well governed fancy, though it were enough for the truth, it were too little for the weight and credit of my testimony. For I lie open to two Exceptions, one of an incompetent, the other of a corrupted Witness. Incompetent, because I am not a Poet; and corrupted with the Honour done me by your Preface. The former obliges me to say something (by the way) of the Nature and Differences of Poesy.  
As Philosophers have divided the Universe (their subject) into three Regions, Celestial, Aërial, and Terrestrial; so the Poets, (whose work it is by imitating humane life, in delightful and measured lines, to avert men from vice, and incline them to virtuous and honourable actions) have lodged themselves in the three Regions of mankind, Court, City, and Country, correspondent in some proportion, to those three Regions of the World. For there is in Princes, and men of conspicuous power (anciently called Heroes) a lustre and influence upon the rest of men, resembling that of the Heavens, and an insincereness, inconstancy, and troublesome humour of those that dwell in populous Cities, like the mobility, blustering, and impurity of the Air; and a plainness, and (though dull) yet a nutritive faculty in rural people, that endures a comparison with the Earth they labour.  
From hence have proceeded three sorts of Poesy, Heroic, Scommatique, and Pastoral. Every one of these is distinguished again in the manner of Representation, which sometimes is Narrative, wherein the Poet himself relateth; and sometimes Dramatic, as when the persons are every one adorned and brought upon the Theatre, to speak and act their own parts. There is therefore neither more nor less than six sorts of Poesy. For the Heroic Poem Narrative (such as is yours) is called Epique Poem; The Heroic Poem Dramatic, is Tragedy. The Scommatique Narrative, is Satire; Dramatic is Comedy. The Pastoral Narrative, is called simply Pastoral (anciently Bucolique) the same Dramatic, Pastoral Comedy. The Figure therefore of an Epique Poem, and of a Tragedy, aught to be the same, for they differ no more but in that they are pronounced by one, or many persons. Which I insert to justify the figure of yours, consisting of five books divided into Songs, or Cantos, as five Acts divided into Scenes has ever been the approved figure of a Tragedy.  
They that take for Poesy whatsoever is writ in Verse, will think this Division imperfect, and call in Sonnets, Epigrams; Eclogues, and the like pieces (which are but Essays, and parts of an entire Poem) and reckon Empedocies and Lucretius (natural Philosophers) for Poets, and the moral precepts of Phoc●lides Theognis, and the Quatrains of Pybrach, and the History of Lucan, and others of that kind amongst Poems; bestowing on such Writers for honour, the name of Poets, rather than of Historians, or Philosophers. But the subject of a Poem, is the manners of men, not natural causes; manners presented, not dictated; and manners feigned (as the name of Poesy imports) not found in men. They that give entrance to Fictions writ in Prose, err not so much, but they err: For Prose requiteth delightfulness, not only of fiction, but of stile; in which if Prose contend with Verse, it is with disadvantage and (as it were) on foot against the strength and wings of Pegasus.  
For Verse amongst the Greeks was appropriated anciently to the service of their Gods, and was the Holy stile; the stile of the Oracles; the stile of the Laws; and the stile of Men that publicly recommended to their Gods, the vows and thanks of the people; which was done in their holy songs called Hymns; and the composers of them were called Prophets and Priests before the name of Poet was known. When afterwards the majesty of that stile was observed, The Poets chose it as best becoming their high invention. And for the Antiquity of Verse, it is greater than the antiquity of Letters. For it is certain, Cadmus was the first that (from Phoenicia, a Country that neighboureth Judea) brought the use of Letters into Greece. But the service of the Gods, and the Laws (which by measured Sounds were easily committed to the memory) had been long time in use, before the arrival of Cadmus there.  
There is besides the grace of stile, another cause why the ancient Poets chose to write in measured language, which is this. There Poems were made at first with intention to have them sung, as well Epic as Dramatic (which custom hath been long time laid aside, but began to be revived in part, of late years in Italy) and could not be made commensurable to the Voice or Instruments, in Prose; the ways and motions whereof are so uncertain and undistinguished, (like the way and motion of a Ship in the Sea) as not only to discompose the best Composers, but also to disappoint sometimes the most attentive Reader, and put him to hunt counter for the sense. It was therefore necessary for Poets in those times, to write in Verse.  
The Verse which the Greeks, and Latins (considering the nature of their own languages) found by experience most grave, and for an Epique Poem most decent, was their Hexameter; a Verse limited, not only in the length of the line, but also in the quantity of the syllables. In stead of which we use the line of ten Syllables, recompensing the neglect of their quantity, with the diligence of Rhyme. And this measure is so proper for an Heroic Poem, as without some loss of gravity and dignity, it was never changed. A longer is not far from ill Prose, and a shorter, is a kind of whisking (you know) like the unlacing, rather than the singing of a Muse. In an Epigram or a Sonnet, a man may vary his measures, and seek glory from a needless difficulty, as he that contrived Verses into the form of an Organ, a Hatchet, an Egg, an Altar, and a pair of Wings; but in so great and noble a work as is an Epique Poem, for a man to obstruct his own way with unprofitable difficulties, is great imprudence. So likewise to choose a needless and difficult correspondence of Rhyme, is but a difficult toy, and forces a man sometimes for the stopping of a chink, to say somewhat he did never think; I cannot therefore but very much approve your Stanza, wherein the syllables in every Verse are ten, and the Rhyme Alternate.  
For the choice of your Subject, you have sufficiently justified yourself in your Preface. But because I have observed in Virgil, that the Honour done to Aeneas and his companions, has so bright a reflection upon Augustus Caesar, and other great Romans of that time, as a man may suspect him not constantly possessed with the noble spirit of those his Heroes, and believe you are not acquainted with any great man of the race of Gondibert, I add to your Justification the purity of your purpose, in having no other motive of your labour, but to adorn Virtue, and procure her Lovers; than which there cannot be a worthier design, and more becoming noble Poesy.  
In that you make so small account of the example of almost all the approved Poets, ancient and modern, who thought fit in the beginning, and sometimes also in the progress of their Poems, to invoke a Muse, or some other Deity, that should dictate to them, or assist them in their writings; they that take not the laws of Art, from any reason of their own, but from the fashion of precedent times, will perhaps accuse your singularity, For my part, I neither subscribe to their accusation, nor yet condemn that Heathen custom, otherwise than as accessary to their false Religion. For their Poets were their Divines; had the name of Prophets, Exercised amongst the People a kind of spiritual Authority; would be thought to speak by a Divine spirit; have their works which they writ in Verse (the Divine stile) pass for the Word of God, and not of man; and to be harkened to with reverence. Do not our Divines (excepting the stile) do the same, and by us that are of the same Religion cannot justly be reprehended for it? Besides, in the use of the spiritual calling of Divines, there is danger sometimes to be feared, from want of skill, such as is reported of unskilful Conjurers, that mistaking the rites and ceremonious points of their art, call up such spirits, as they cannot at their pleasure allay again, by whom storms are raised that overthrow buildings, and are the cause of miserable wracks at Sea. Unskilful Divines do oftentimes the like; For when they call unseasonably for Zeal, there appears a spirit of Cruelty; and by the like ●●roun instead of Truth, they raise Discord; instead of Wisdom, Eraud; instead of Reformation, Tumult; and Controversy instead of Religion. Whereas in the Heathen Poets, at least in those whose works have lasted to the time we are in, there are none of those indiscretions to be found, that tended to subversion, or disturbance of the Commonwealths wherein they lived. But why a Christian should think it an ornament to his Poem; either to profane the true God, or invoke a false one, I can imagine no cause, but a reasonless imitation of Custom, of a foolish custom; by which a man enabled to speak wisely from the principles of nature, and his own meditation, loves rather to be thought to speak by inspiration, like a Bagpipe.  
Time and Education begets Experience; Experience begets Memory; Memory begets Judgement, and Fancy; Judgement begets the Strength and Structure; and Fancy begets the Ornaments of a Poem. The Ancients therefore fabled not absurdly, in making Memory the Mother of the Muses. For Memory is the World (though not really, yet so as in a Looking-glass) in which the Judgement, the severer Sister busieth herself in a grave and rigid examination of all the parts of Nature, and in registering by Letters their order, causes, uses, differences, and resemblances; Whereby the Fancy, when any work of Art is to be performed, finding her materials at hand and prepared for use, and needs no more than a swift motion over them, that what she wants, and is there to be had, may not lie too long unespied. So that when she seemeth to fly from one Indies to the other, and from Heaven to Earth, and to penetrate into the hardest matter, and obscurest places, into the future, and into herself, and all this in a point of time, the voyage is not very great, herself being all she seeks; and her wonderful celerity, consisteth not so much in motion, as in copious Imagery discreetly ordered, and perfectly registered in the Memory; which most men under the name of Philosophy have a glimpss of, and is pretended to by many that grossly mistaking her, embrace contention in her place. But so far forth as the Fancy of man, has traced the ways of true Philosophy, so far it hath produced very marvellous effects to the benefit of mankind. All that is beautiful or defensible in building, or marvellous in Engines and Instruments of motion; whatsoever commodity men receive from the observations of the Heavens, from the description of the Earth, from the account of Time, from walking on the Seas; and whatsoever distinguisheth the Civility of Europe, from the Barbarity of the American savages, is the workmanship of Fancy, but guided by the Precepts of true Philosophy. But where these precepts fail, as they have hitherto failed in the doctrine of moral Virtue, there the Architect (Fancy) must take the Philosopher's part upon herself. He therefore that undertakes an Heroic Poem (which is to exhibit a venerable and amiable Image of Heroic virtue) must not only be the Poet, to place and connect, but also the Philosopher, to furnish and square his matter; that is, to make both Body and Soul, colour and shadow of his Poem out of his own Store: Which, how well you have performed I am now considering.  
Observing how few the persons be you introduce in the beginning, and how in the course of the actions of these (the number increasing) after several confluences, they run all at last into the two principal streams of your Poem, Gondibert and Oswald, me thinks the Fable is not much unlike the Theatre. For so, from several and far distant Sources, do the lesser Brooks of Lombardy, flowing into one another, fall all at last into the two main Rivers, the Po and the Adite. It hath the same resemblance also with a man's veins, which proceeding from different parts, after the like concourse, insert themselves at last into the two principal veins of the body. But when I considered that also the actions of men, which singly are inconsiderable, after many conjunctures, grow at last either into one great protecting power, or into destroying factions, I could not but approve the structure of your Poem, which ought to be no other than such, as an imitation of humane life requireth.  
In the Streams themselves I find nothing but settled Valour, clean Honour, calm Counsel, learned Diversion, and pure Love▪ save only a torrent or two of Ambition, which (though a fault) has somewhat Heroic in it, and therefore must have place in an Heroic Poem. To show the Reader in what place he shall find every excellent picture of Virtue you have drawn, is too long. And to show him one, is to prejudice the rest; yet I cannot forbear to point him to the Description of Love in the person of Birtha, in the seventh Canto of the second Book. There has nothing been said of that Subject neither by the Ancient nor Modern Poets comparable to it. Poets are painters: I would fain see another painter draw so true, perfect and natural a Love to the Life, and make use of nothing but pure Lines, without the help of any the least uncomely shadow, as you have done. But let it be read as a piece by itself, for in the almost equal height of the whole, the eminence of parts is Lost.  
There are some that are not pleased with fiction, unless it be bold; not only to exceed the work, but also the possibility of Nature: they would have impenetrable Armours, Enchanted Castles, Invulnerable Bodies, Iron Men, Flying Horses, and a thousand other such things, which are easily feigned by them that dare. Against such I defend you (without assenting to those that condemn either Homer or Virgil) by dissenting only from those that think the Beauty of a Poem consisteth in the exorbitancy of the fiction. For as truth is the bound of Historical, so the Resemblance of truth is the utmost limit of Poetical Liberty. In old time amongst the Heathen such strange fictions, and Metamorphoses, were not so remo●e from the Articles of their Faith, as they are now from ours, and therefore were not so unpleasant. Beyond the actual works of Nature a Poet may now go; but beyond the conceived possibility of Nature, never. I can allow a Geographer to make in the Sea, a Fish or a Ship, which by the scale of his Map would be two or three hundred mile long, and think it done for ornament, because it is done without the precincts of his undertaking; but when he paints an Elephant so, I presently apprehend it as ignorance, and a plain confession of Terra incognita.  
As the description of Great Men and Great Actions, is the constant design of a Poet; so the descriptions of worthy circumstances are necessary accessions to a Poem, and being well performed, are the Jewels and most precious ornaments of Poesy. Such in Virgil are the Funeral games of Anchises, The duel of Aeneas and Turnus, etc. and such in yours are The Hunting, The Battle, The City Mourning, The Funeral, The House of Astragon, The Library and the Temple, equal to his, or those of Homer whom he imitated.  
There remains now no more to be considered but the Expression, in which consisteth the countenance and colour of a beautiful Muse; and is given her by the Poet out of his own provision, or is borrowed from others. That which he hath of his own, is nothing but experience and knowledge of Nature, and specially humane nature; and is the true and natural Colour. But that which is taken out of Books (the ordinary boxes of Counterfeit Complexion) shows well or ill, as it hath more or less resemblance with the natural, and are not to be used (without examination) unadvisedly. For in him that professes the imitation of Nature (as all Poets do) what greater fault can there be, than to bewray an ignorance of Nature in his Poem; especially having a liberty allowed him, if he meet with any thing he cannot master, to leave it out?  
That which giveth a Poem the true and natural Colour consisteth in two things, which are; To know well, that is, to have images of Nature in the memory distinct and clear; and To know much. A sign of the first is perspicuity, property, and decency, which delight all sorts of men, either by instructing the ignorant, or soothing the learned in their knowledge. A sign of the latter is novelty of expression, and pleaseth by excitation of the mind; for novelty causeth admiration, and admiration curiosity, which is a delightful appetite of knowledge.  
There be so many words in use at this day in the English Tongue, that, though of magnific sound, yet (like the windy blisters of a troubled water) have no sense at all; and so many others that lose their meaning, by being ill coupled, that it is a hard matter to avoid them; for having been obtruded upon youth in the Schools (by such as make it, I think, their business there (as 'tis expressed by the best Poet)  
With terms to charm the weak and pose the wise, they grow up with them, and gaining reputation with the ignorant, are not easily shaken off.  
To this palpable darkness, I may also add the ambitious obscurity of expressing more than is perfectly conceived; or perfect conception in fewer words than it requires. Which Expressions, though they have had the honour to be called strong lines, are indeed no better than Riddles, and not only to the Reader, but also (after a little time) to the Writer himself dark and troublesome.  
To the property of Expression I refer, that clearness of memory, by which a Poet when he hath once introduced any person whatsoever, speaking in his Poem, maintaineth in him to the end the same character he gave him in the beginning. The variation whereof, is a change of pace, that argues the Poet tired.  
Of the Indecencies of an Heroic Poem, the most remarkable are those that show disproportion either between the persons and their actions, or between the manners of the Poet and the Poem. Of the first kind, is the uncomliness of representing in great persons the inhuman vice of Cruelty, or the sordid vice of Lust and Drunkenness. To such parts as those the ancient approved Poets, thought it fit to suborn, nor the persons of men, but of monsters and beastly Giants, such as Polyphemus, Cacus, and the Centauris. For it is supposed a Muse, when she is invoked to sing a song of that nature, should maidenly advise the Poet, to set such persons to sing their own vices upon the Stage; for it is not so unseemly in a Tragedy. Of the same kind it is to represent scurrility, or any action or language that moveth much laughter. The delight of an Epique Poem consisteth not in mirth, but admiration. Mirth and Laughter is proper to Comedy and Satire. Great persons that have their minds employed on great designs, have not leisure enough to laugh, and are pleased with the contemplation of their own power and virtues, so as they need not the infirmities and vices of other men, to recommend themselves to their own favour by comparison, as all men do when they laugh. Of the second kind, where the disproportion is between the Poet, and the persons of his Poem, one is in the Dialect of the Inferior sort of people, which is always different from the language of the Court. Another is to derive the Illustration of any thing, from such Metaphors or Comparisons as cannot come into men's thoughts, but by mean conversation, and experience of humble or evil Arts, which the person of an Epique Poem, cannot be thought acquainted with.  
From Knowing much, proceedeth the admirable variety and novelty of Metaphors and Similitudes, which are not possible to be lighted on, in the compass of a narrow knowledge. And the want whereof compelleth a Writer to expressions that are either defaced by time, or sullied with vulgar or long use. For the phrases of Poesy, as the airs of music with often hearing become insipid, the Reader having no more sense of their force, than our Flesh is sensible of the bones that sustain it. As the sense we have of bodies, consisteth in change and variety of impression, so also does the sense of language in the variety and changeable use of words. I mean not in the affectation of words newly brought home from travel, but in new (and withal significant) translation to our purposes, of those that be already received; and in far fetched (but withal apt, instructive and comely) similitudes.  
Having thus (I hope) avoided the first Exception, against the incompetency of my Judgement, I am but little moved with the second, which is of being bribed by the honour you have done me, by attributing in your Preface somewhat to my Judgement. For I have used your Judgement no less in many things of mine, which coming to light will thereby appear the better. And so you have your bribe again.  
Having thus made way for the admission of my Testimony, I give it briefly thus; I never yet saw Poem, that had so much shape of Art, health of Morality, and vigour and beauty of Expression, as this of yours. And but for the clamour of the multitude, that hide their Envy of the present, under a Reverence of Antiquity, I should say further, that it would last as long as either the Aeneid, or Iliad, but for one Disadvantage, and the Disadvantage is this: The languages of the Greeks and Romans (by their Colonies and Conquests) have put off flesh and blood, and are become immutable, which none of the modern tongues are like to be. I honour Antiquity, but that which is commonly called Old time, is Young time. The glory of Antiquity is due, not to the Dead, but to the Aged.  
And now, whilst I think on't, give me leave with a short discord to sweeten the Harmony of the approaching close. I have nothing to object against your Poem; but descent only from something in your Preface, sounding to the prejudice of Age. 'Tis commonly said, that old Age is a return to childhood. Which me thinks you insist on so long, as if you desired it should be believed. That is the note I mean to shake a little. That saying, meant only of the weakness of body, was wrested to the weakness of mind, by froward children, weary of the controlment of their parents, masters, and other admonitours. Secondly, the dotage and childishness they ascribe to Age, is never the effect of Time, but sometimes of the excesses of youth, and not a returning to, but a continual stay with childhood. For they that wanting the curiosity of furnishing their memories with the rarities of Nature in their youth, and pass their time in making provision only for their ease, and sensual delight, are children still, at what years soever; as they that coming into a populous City, never going out of their Inn, are strangers still, how long soever they have been there. Thirdly, there is no reason for any man to think himself wiser to day than yesterday, which does not equally convince he shall be wiser tomorrow than today.  
Fourthly, you will be forced to change your opinion hereafter when you are old; and in the mean time you discredit all I have said before in your commendation, because I am old already. But no more of this.  
I believe (Sir) you have seen a curious kind of perspective, where, he that looks through a short hollow pipe, upon a picture containing divers figures, sees none of those that are there painted, but some one person made up of their parts, conveyed to the eye by the artificial cutting of a glass. I find in my imagination an effect not unlike it from your Poem. The virtues you distribute there amongst so many noble persons, represent (in the reading) the image but of one man's virtue to my fancy, which is your own; and that so deeply imprinted, as to stay for ever there, and govern all the rest of my thoughts and affections, in the way of honouring and serving you, to the utmost of my power, that am  
Paris, January 10. 1650. (SIR) Your most humble and obedient Servant, THO. HOBBS.   

TO S r WILL. D'AVENANT, Upon his two first Books of GONDIBERT, Finished before his Voyage to AMERICA.  

THus the wise Nightingale that leaves her home,  
Her native Wood, when Storms and Winter come,  
Pursuing constantly the cheerful Spring  
To foreign Groves does her old Music bring:   

The drooping Hebrews banished Harps unstrung  
At Babylon, upon the Willows hung;  
Yours sounds aloud, and tells us you excel  
No less in Courage, than in Singing well;  
Whilst unconcerned you let your Country know,  
They have impov'rished themselves, not you;  
Who with the Muse's help can mock those Fates  
Which threaten Kingdoms, and disorder States.   

So Ovid, when from Caesar's rage he fled,  
The Roman Muse to Pontus with him led,  
Where he so sung, that We through pity's Glass,  
See Nero milder than Augustus was.  
Hereafter such in thy behalf shall be  
Th'indulgent censure of Posterity.  
To banish those who with such art can sing,  
Is a rude crime which its own Curse does bring:  
Ages to come shall ne'er know how they fought,  
Nor how to Love their present Youth be taught.  
This to thyself. Now to thy matchless Book,  
Wherein those few that can with Judgement look,  
May find old Love in pure fresh Language told,  
Like new stamped Coin made out of Angel gold.  
Such truth in Love as th'antique world did know,  
In such a style as Courts may boast of now.  
Which no bold tales of Gods or Monsters swell,  
But humane Passions, such as with us dwell.  
Man is thy theme, his Virtue or his Rage  
Drawn to the life in each elaborate Page.  
Mars nor Bellona are not named here;  
But such a Gondibert as both might fear.  
Venus had here, and Hebe been outshined  
By thy bright Birtha, and thy Rhodalind.  
Such is thy happy skill, and such the odds  
Betwixt thy Worthies and the Grecian Gods.  
Whose Deities in vain had here come down,  
Where Mortal Beauty wears the Sovereign Crown;  
Such as of flesh composed, by flesh and blood  
(Though not resisted) may be understood.   
ED. WALLER.   

TO Sr WIL D'AVENANT, Upon his two first Books of GONDIBERT, Finished before his Voyage to AMERICA.  

ME thinks Heroic Poesy till now,  
Like some fantastic Fairy-land did show;  
Gods, Devils, Nymphs, Witches, and Giants race,  
And all but Man, in Man's best Work had place.  
Thou like some worthy Knight, with sacred Arms  
Dost drive the Monsters thence, and end the Charms:  
In stead of those, dost Men and Manners plant,  
The things which that rich Soil did chiefly want.  
But even thy Mortals do their Gods excel,  
Taught by thy Muse to Fight and Love so well.   

By fatal hands whilst present Empires fall,  
Thine from the grave past Monarchies recall.  
So much more thanks from humane kind does merit  
The Poet's fury, than the Zelots Spirit.  
And from the grave thou mak'st this Empire rise,  
Not like some dreadful Ghost t'affright our Eyes,  
But with more beauty and triumphant state,  
Than when it crowned at proud Verona sat.  
So will our God rebuild Man's perished frame,  
And raise him up much better, yet the same:  
So Godlike P●e●s do past things rehearse,  
Not change, but heighten Nature with their Verse.   

With shame me thinks great Italy must see  
Her Conqueror's called to life again by thee;  
Called by such powerful Arts, that ancient Rome  
May blush ●o less to see her Wit o'ercome.  
Some men their Fancies like their Faiths derive;  
And count all ill but that which Rome does give;  
The marks of Old and Catholic would find;  
To the same Chair would Truth and Fiction bind.  
Thou in these beaten paths disdainest to tread,  
And scornest to live by robbing of the Dead.  
Since Time does all things change, thou think'st not fit  
This latter Age should see all new, but Wit.  
Thy Fancy, like a Flame, her way does make,  
And leaves bright tracks for following Pens to take.  
Sure 'twas this noble boldness of the Muse  
Did thy desire, to seek new Worlds, infuse;  
And ne'er did Heaven so much a Voyage bless,  
If thou canst Plant but there with like success.   
AB. COWLEY.   

GONDIBERT. The First Book.  

CANTO the First.  
The ARGUMENT.  

Old ARIBERT'S great race, and greater mind  
Is sung, with the renown of RHODALIND.  
Prince OSWALD is compared to GONDIBERT,  
And justly each distinguished by desert:  
Whose Armies are in Fame's fair Field drawn forth,  
To show by discipline their Leaders worth.   

1.  
OF all the Lombard's, by their Trophies known,  
Who sought Fame soon, and had her favour long,  
King Aribert best seemed to fill the Throne;  
And bred most business for Heroic Song.   

2.  
From early Childhoods promising estate,  
Up to performing Manhood, till he grew  
To failing Age, he Agent was to Fate,  
And did to Nation's Peace or War renew.   

3.  
War was his studied Art; War, which the bad  
Condemn, because even then it does them awe  
When with their number lined, and purple clad,  
And to the good more needful is than Law.   

4.  
To conquer Tumult, Nature's sudden force,  
War, Arts delib'rate strength, was first devised;  
Cruel to those whose rage has no remorse,  
Lest civil power should be by Throngs surprised.   

5.  
The feeble Law rescues but doubtfully  
From the Oppressors single Arm our right;  
Till to its power the wise wars help apply;  
Which soberly does Man's loose rage unite.   

6.  
Yet since on all War never needful was,  
Wise Aribert did keep the People sure  
By Laws from lesser dangers; for the Laws  
Them from themselves, and not from power secure.   

7.  
Else Conquerors, by making Laws, o'ercome  
Their own gained power, and leave men's fury free;  
Who growing deaf to power, the Laws grow dumb;  
Since none can plead where all may Judges be.   

8.  
Praised was this King for war, the Laws broad shield;  
And for acknowledged Laws, the art of Peace;  
Happy in all which Heaven to Kings does yield,  
But a successor when his cares shall cease.   

9  
For no Male Pledge, to give a lusty name,  
Sprung from his bed, yet Heaven to him allowed  
One of the gentler sex, whose Story Fame  
Has made my Song, to make the Lombard's proud.   

10.  
Recorded Rhodalind! whose high renown  
Who miss in Books, not luckily have read;  
Or vexed by living beauties of their own  
Have shunned the wise Records of Lovers dead.   

11.  
Her Father's prosperous Palace was the Sphere  
Where she to all with Heavenly order moved;  
Made rigid virtue so benign appear,  
That 'twas without Religion's help beloved.   

12.  
Her looks like Empire showed, great above pride;  
Since pride ill counterfeits excessive height;  
But Nature published what she fain would hide;  
Who for her deeds, not beauty, loved the light.   

13.  
To make her lowly minds appearance less,  
She used some outward greatness for disguise;  
Esteemed as pride the Cloist'ral lowliness,  
And thought them proud who even the proud despise.   

14.  
Her Father (in the winter of his age)  
Was like that stormy season froward grown;  
Whom so her springs fresh presence did assuage,  
That he her sweetness tasted as his own.   

15.  
The power that with his stooping age declined,  
In her transplanted, by remove increased;  
Which doubly back in homage she resigned;  
Till powers decay, the Thrones worst sickness, ceased.   

16.  
Oppressors big with pride, when she appeared  
Blushed, and believed their greatness counterfeit;  
The lowly thought they them in vain had feared;  
Found virtue harmless, and nought else so great.   

17.  
Her mind (scarce to her feeble sex of kin)  
Did as her birth, her right to Empire show;  
Seemed careless outward when employed within;  
Her speech, like lovers watched, was kind and low.   

18.  
She showed that her soft sex contains strong minds,  
Such as evap'rates through the courser Male,  
As through course stone Elixir passage finds,  
Which scarce through finer Crystal can exhale.   

19  
Her beauty (not her own but Nature's pride)  
Should I describe; from every Lover's eye  
All Beauties this original must hide,  
Or like scorned Copies be themselves laid by;   

20.  
Be by their Poets Shunned, whom beauty feeds,  
Who beauty like hired witnesses protect,  
Officiously averring more than needs,  
And make us so the needful truth suspect.   

21.  
And since fond Lovers (who disciples be  
To Poets) think in their own loves they find  
More beauty than yet Time did ever see,  
Time's Curtain I will draw o'er Rhodalind;   

22.  
Lest showing her, each see how much he errs,  
Doubt since their own have less, that they have none;  
Believe their Poet's perjured Flatterers,  
And then all Modern Maids would be undone.   

23.  
In pity thus, her beauty's just renown  
I wave for public Peace, and will declare  
To whom the King designed her with his Crown;  
Which is his last and most unquiet care.   

24.  
If in alliance he does greatness prize,  
His Mind grown weary, need not travel far;  
If greatness he composed of Victories,  
He has at home many that Victors are.   

25.  
Many whom blessed success did often grace  
In Fields where they have seeds of Empire sown;  
And hope to make, since born of princely race,  
Even her (the harvest of those toils) their own.   

26.  
And of those Victors Two are chiefly famed,  
To whom the rest their proudest hopes resign;  
Though young, were in there Father's battles named,  
And both are of the Lombard's Royal Line.   

27.  
Oswald the great, and greater Gondibert!  
Both from successful conquering Fathers sprung▪  
Whom both examples made of War's high art,  
And far outwrought their patterns being young.   

28.  
Yet for full fame (as Trine Fam's Judge reports)  
Much to Duke Gondibert Prince Oswald yields,  
Was less in mighty mysteries of Courts,  
In peaceful Cities, and in fight Fields.   

29.  
In Court Prince Oswald costly was and gay,  
Finer than near vain Kings their favourites are;  
Outshined bright favourites on their Nuptial day,  
Yet were his Eyes dark with ambitious care.   

30.  
Duke Gondibert was still more gravely clad,  
But yet his looks familiar were and clear;  
As if with ill to others never sad,  
Nor towards himself could others practise fear.   

31.  
The Prince, could Porpoise-like in Tempests play,  
And in Court-storms on shipwrecked Greatness seed;  
Not frighted with their fate when cast away,  
But to their glorious hazards durst succeed.   

32.  
The Duke would lasting calms to Courts assure,  
As pleasant Gardens we defend from winds;  
For he who business would from Storms procure,  
Soon his affairs above his manage finds.   

33.  
Oswald in Throngs the abject People sought  
With humble looks; who still too late will know  
They are Ambitious Quarry, and soon caught  
When the aspiring Eagle stoops so low.   

34.  
The Duke did these by steady Virtue gain;  
Which they in action more than precept taste;  
Deeds show the Good, and those who goodness feign  
By such even through their vizards are outfaced.   

35.  
Oswald in war was worthily renowned;  
Though gay in Courts, coarsely in Camps could live;  
Judged danger soon, and first was in it found;  
Could toil to gain what he with ease did give.   

36.  
Yet toils and dangers through ambition loved;  
Which does in war the name of Virtue own;  
But quits that name when from the war removed,  
As Rivers theirs when from their Channels gone.   

37.  
The Duke (as restless as his fame in war)  
With martial toil could Oswald weary make;  
And calmly do what he with rage did dare,  
And give so much as he might deign to take.   

38.  
Him as their Founder Cities did adore;  
The Court he knew to steer in storms of State;  
In Field a Battle lost he could restore,  
And after force the Victors to their Fate.   

39  
In Camps now chiefly lived, where he did aim  
At graver glory than Ambition breeds;  
Designs that yet this story must not name,  
Which with our Lombard Authors pace proceeds.   

40.  
The King adopts this Duke in secret thought  
To wed the Nations wealth, his only child,  
Whom Oswald as reward of merit sought,  
With Hope, Ambition's common bait, beguiled.   

41.  
This as his souls chief secret was unknown,  
Lest Oswald that his proudest Army led  
Should force possession ere his hopes were gone,  
Who could not rest but in▪ the royal bed.   

42.  
The Duke discerned not that the King designed  
To choose him Heir of all his victories;  
Nor guessed that for his love fair Rhodalind  
Made sleep of late a stranger to her Eyes.   

43.  
Yet sadly it is sung that she in shades,  
Mildly as mourning Doves love's sorrows felt;  
Whilst in her secret tears her freshness fades  
As Roses silently in Lymbecks melt.   

44.  
But who could know her love, whose jealous shame  
Denied her Eyes the knowledge of her glass;  
Who blushing thought Nature herself too blame  
By whom Men guess of Maids more than the face.   

45.  
Yet judge not that this Duke (though from his sight  
With Maids first fears she did her passion hide)  
Did need love's flame for his directing light,  
But rather wants Ambition for his Guide.   

46.  
Love's fire he carried, but no more in view  
Than vital heat which kept his heart still warm;  
This Maids in Oswald, as love's Beacon knew;  
The public flame to bid them fly from harm.   

47.  
Yet since this Duke could love, we may admire  
Why love ne'er raised his thoughts to Rhodalind;  
But those forget that earthly flames aspire,  
Whilst Heavenly beams; which purer are, descend.   

48.  
As yet to none could he peculiar prove,  
But like an universal Influence  
(For such and so sufficient was his love)  
To all the Sex he did his heart dispense.   

49.  
But Oswald never knew love's ancient Laws,  
The awe that Beauty does in lovers breed,  
Those short-breathed fears and paleness it does cause  
When in a doubtful Brow their doom they read.   

50.  
Not Rhodalind (whom then all Men as one  
Did celebrate, as with confederate Eyes)  
Could he affect but shining in her Throne;  
Blindly a Throne did more than beauty prize.   

51.  
He by his Sister did his hopes prefer;  
A beauteous pleader who victorious was  
O'er Rhodalind, and could subdue her Ear  
In all requests but this unpleasant cause.   

52.  
Gartha, whose bolder beauty was in strength  
And fullness placed, but such as all must like;  
Her spreading stature talness was, no● length,  
And whilst sharp beauties pierce, hers seemed to strike.   

53.  
Such goodly presence ancient Poets grace,  
Whose songs the world's first manliness▪ declare;  
To Prince's Beds teach carefulness of Base;  
Which now store Courts, that used to store the war.   

54.  
Such was the palace of her Mind, a Prince  
Who proudly there, and still unquier lives;  
And sleep (domestic every where) from thence,  
To make Ambition room, unwisely drives.   

55.  
Of manly force was this her watchful mind,  
And fit in Empire to direct and sway;  
If she the temper had of Rhodalind,  
Who knew that Gold is currant with allay.   

56.  
As Kings (oft slaves to others hopes and skill)  
Are urged to war to load their slaves with spoils;  
So Oswald was pushed up Ambition's hill,  
And so some urged the Duke to martial toils.   

57  
And these who for their own great cause so high  
Would lift their Lords Two prosperous Armies, are  
Returned from far to fruitful Lombardy,  
And paid with rest, the best reward of War.   

58.  
The old near Brescia lay, scarce warmed with Tents;  
For though from danger safe, yet Armies then  
Their posture kept against warring Elements,  
And hardness learned against more warring Men.   

59  
Near Bergamo encamped the younger were,  
Whom to the Franks distress the Duke had led;  
The other Oswald's lucky Ensigns bear,  
Which lately stood when proud Ovenna fled.   

60.  
These that attend Duke Gondibert's renown  
Where Youth, whom from his Father's Camp he chose,  
And them betimes transplanted to his own;  
Where each the Planters care and judgement shows.   

61.  
All hardy Youth, from valiant Fathers sprung;  
Whom perfect honour he so highly taught,  
That th' Aged fetched examples from the young,  
And hid the vain experience which they brought.   

62.  
They danger met diverted less with fears  
Than now the dead would be if here again,  
After they know the price brave dying bears;  
And by their sinless rest find life was vain.   

63.  
Temperate in what does needy life preserve,  
As those whose Bodies wait upon their Minds;  
Chaste as those Minds which not their Bodies serve,  
Ready as Pilots waked with sudden Winds.   

64.  
Speechless in diligence, as if they were  
Nightly to close surprise and Ambush bred;  
Their wounds yet smarting merciful they are,  
And soon from victory to pity led.   

65.  
When a great Captive they in fight had ta'en,  
(Whom in a Filial duty some fair Maid  
Visits, and would by tears his Freedom gain)  
How soon his Victors were his Captives made?   

66.  
For though the Duke taught rigid Discipline,  
He let them beauty thus at distance know;  
As Priests discover some especial Shrine,  
Which none must touch, yet all may to it bow.   

67.  
When thus as Suitors mourning Virgins pass  
Through their clean camp, themselves in form they draw  
That they with Martial reverence may grace  
Beauty, the Stranger, which they seldom saw.   

68  
They veiled their Ensigns as it by did move,  
Whilst inward (as from Native Conscience) all  
Worshipped the Poet's Darling Godhead, Love,  
Which grave Philosophers did Nature call.   

69.  
Nor there could Maids of Captive Sires despair,  
But made all Captives by their beauty free;  
Beauty and Valour native Jewels are,  
And as each others only price agree.   

70.  
Such was the Duke's young Camp near Bergamo,  
But these near Brescia whom fierce Oswald led,  
Their Science to his famous Father owe,  
And have his Son (though now their Leader) bred.   

71.  
This reverend Army was for age renowned;  
Which long through frequent dangers followed Time;  
Their many Trophies gained with many a wound,  
And Fame's last Hill, did with first vigour climb.   

72.  
But here the learned Lombard whom I trace  
My forward Pen by flower Method stays;  
Lest I should them (less heeding time and place  
Than common Poets) out of season praise.   

73.  
Think only then (couldst thou both Camps discern)  
That these would seem grave Authors of the war,  
Met civility to teach who e'er will learn,  
And those their young and civil Students are.   

74.  
But painful virtue of the war ne'er pays  
Itself with consciousness of being good,  
Though Cloyster-virtue may believe even praise  
A salary which there should be withstood.   

75.  
For many here (whose virtues active heat  
Concurs not with cold virtue which does dwell  
In lazy Cells) are virtuous to be great,  
And as in pains so would in power excel.   

76.  
And Oswald's Faction urged him to aspire  
That by his height they higher might ascend;  
The Dukes to glorious Thrones access desire,  
But at more awful distance did attend.   

77.  
The royal Rhodalind is now the Prize  
By which these Camps would make their merit known;  
And think their Generals but their Deputies  
Who must for them by Proxy wed the Crown.   

78.  
From foreign Fields (with toiling conquest tired,  
And groaning under spoils) came home to rest;  
But now they are with emulation fired,  
And for that power they should obey, contest.   

79.  
Ah how perverse and froward is Mankind!  
Faction in Courts does us to rage excite;  
The Rich in Cities we litigious find,  
And in the Field th'Ambitious make us fight.   

80.  
And fatally (as if even souls were made  
Of warring Elements as Bodies are)  
Our Reason our Religion does invade,  
Till from the Schools to Camps it carry war.    

CANTO the Second.  
The ARGUMENT.  

The hunting which did yearly celebrate  
The LOMBARD'S glory, and the VANDALS Fate,  
The Hunters praised; how true to love they are,  
How calm in Peace, and Tempest-like in war.  
The Stag is by the numerous Chase subdued,  
And straight his Hunters are as hard pursued.   

1.  
SMALL are the seeds Fate does unheeded sow  
Of slight beginnings to important ends;  
Whilst wonder (which does best our reverence show  
To Heaven) all Reason's sight in gazing spends.   

2.  
For from a Days brief pleasure did proceed  
(A day grown black in Lombard Histories)  
Such lasting griefs as thou shalt weep to read,  
Though even thine own sad love had drained thine eyes.   

3.  
In a fair Forest near Verona's Plain,  
Fresh as if Nature's Youth chose there a shade,  
The Duke with many Lovers in his Train,  
(Loyal, and young) a solemn hunting made.   

4.  
Much was his Train enlarged by their resort  
Who much his Grandsire loved, and hither came  
To celebrate this Day with annual sport,  
On which by battle here he earned his Fame.   

5.  
And many of these noble Hunters bore  
Command amongst the Youth at Bergamo;  
Whose Fathers gathered here the wreath they wore,  
When in this Forest they interred the Foe.   

6.  
Count Hurgonil, a Youth of high descent,  
Was listed here, and in the Story great;  
He followed Honour when tow'rd's Death it went;  
Fierce in a charge but temperate in retreat.   

7.  
His wondrous beauty which the world approved  
He blushing hid, and now no more would own  
(Since he the Duke's unequalled Sister loved)  
Than an old wreath when newly overthrown.   

8.  
And she, Orna the shy! Did seem in life  
So bashful too to have her beauty shown,  
As I may doubt her shade with Fame at strife,  
That in these vicious times would make it known.   

9  
Not less in public voice was Arnold here;  
He that on Tuscan Tombs his Trophies raised;  
And now loves power so willingly did bear,  
That even his arbitrary reign he praised.   

10.  
Laura, the Duke's fair Niece enthralled his heart;  
Who was in Court the public morning Glass  
Where those who would reduce Nature to art,  
Practised by dress the conquests of the Face.   

11.  
And here was Hugo whom Duke Gondibert  
For stout and steadfast kindness did approve;  
Of stature small, but was all over heart,  
And though unhappy all that heart was love.   

12.  
In gentle sonnets he for Laura pined;  
Soft as the murmurs of a weeping spring;  
Which ruthless she did as those murmurs mind:  
So ere their death sick Swans unheeded sing.   

13.  
Yet whilst she Arnold favoured, he so grieved  
As loyal Subjects quietly bemoan  
Their Yoke, but raise no war to be relieved,  
Nor through the envied Favourite wound the Throne.   

14.  
Young Goltho next these Rivals we may name,  
Whose manhood dawn'd early as Summer light;  
As sure and soon did his fair day proclaim,  
And was no less the joy of public sight.   

15.  
If Loves just power he did not early see,  
Some small excuse we may his error give;  
Since few (though learned) know yet blest Love to be  
That secret vital heat by which we live:   

16.  
But such it is; and though we may be thought  
To have in Childhood life, ere Love we know,  
Yet life is useless till by reason taught,  
And Love and Reason up together grow.   

17.  
Nor more, the Old show they outlive their Love,  
If when their Love's decayed, some signs they give  
Of life, because we see them pained and move,  
Then Snakes, long cut, by torment show they live.   

18.  
If we call living, Life, when Love is gone,  
We then to Souls (God's coin) vain reverence pay;  
Since Reason (which is Love, and his best known  
And current Image) Age has worn away.   

19  
And I that Love and Reason thus unite,  
May, if I old Philosophers control,  
Confirm the new by some new Poet's light;  
Who finding Love, thinks he has found the Soul.   

20.  
From Goltho, to whom Love yet tasteless seemed,  
We to ripe Tybalt are by order led;  
Tybalt, who Love and Valour both esteemed,  
And he alike from either's wounds had bled.   

21.  
Public his valour was, but not his love,  
One filled the world, the other he contained;  
Yet quietly alike in both did move,  
Of that ne'er boasted, nor of this complained.   

22.  
With these (whose special names Verse shall preserve)  
Many to this recorded hunting came;  
Whose worth authentic mention did deserve,  
But from Time's deluge few are saved by Fame.   

23.  
Now like a Giant Lover rose the Sun  
From th'Ocean Queen, fine in his fires and great;  
Seemed all the Morn for show, for strength at Noon;  
As if last Night she had not quenched his heat!   

24.  
And the Sun's Servants who his rising wait,  
His Pensioners (for so all Lovers are,  
And all maintained by him at a high rate  
With daily Fire) now for the Chase prepare.   

25.  
All were like Hunters clad in cheerful green,  
Young Nature's Livery, and each at strife  
Who most adorned in favours should be seen,  
Wrought kindly by the Lady of his life.   

26.  
These Martial Favours on their Wastes they wear,  
On which (for now they Conquest celebrate)  
In an embroidered History appear  
Like life, the vanquished in their fears and fate.   

27.  
And on these Belts (wrought with their Lady's care)  
Hung Semy●ers of Akons trusty steel;  
Goodly to see, and he who durst compare  
Those Lady's Eyes, might soon their temper feel.   

28.  
Cheered as the woods (where new waked Quires they meet)  
Are all; and now dispose their choice Relays  
Of Horse and Hounds, each like each other fleet;  
Which best when with themselves compared we praise;   

29.  
To them old Forests Spies, the Harbourers  
With haste approach, wet as still weeping Night,  
Or Deer that mourn their growth of head with tears,  
When the defenceless weight does hinder flight.   

30.  
And Dogs, such whose cold secrecy was meant  
By Nature for surprise, on these attend;  
Wise temperate Lime Hounds that proclaim no scent;  
Nor harb'ring will their Mouths in boasting spend.   

31.  
Yet vainlier far than Traitors boast their prize  
(On which their vehemence vast rates does lay,  
Since in that worth their treason's credit lies)  
These Harb'rers praise that which they now betray.   

32.  
Boast they have lodged a Stag, that all the Race  
Outruns of Cr●ton Horse, or Regan Hounds;  
A Stag made long, since Royal in the Chase,  
If Kings can honour give by giving wounds.   

33.  
For Aribert had pierced him at a Bay,  
Yet scaped he by the vigour of his Head;  
And many a Summer since has won the day,  
And often left his Regan Foll'wrs dead.   

34.  
His spacious Beam (that even the Rights out-grew)  
From Antlar to his Troch had all allowed  
By which his age the aged Woodmen knew;  
Who more than he were of that beauty proud.   

35.  
Now each Relay a several Station finds,  
Ere the triumphant Train the Copse surrounds;  
Relays of Horse, long breathed as winter winds,  
And their deep Cannon Mouthed experienced Hounds.   

36.  
The Huntsmen (Busily concerned in show  
As if the world were by this Beast undone,  
And they against him hired as Nature's Foe)  
In haste uncouple, and their Hounds outrun.   

37.  
Now wind they a Rechate, the roused Deers knell;  
And through the Forest all the Beasts are awed,  
Alarmd by Echo, Nature's Sentinel,  
Which shows that murderous Man is come abroad.   

38.  
Tyrannic Man! Thy subjects Enemy!  
And more through wantonness than need or hate;  
From whom the winged to their Coverts fly;  
And to their Dens even those that lay in wait.   

39  
So this (the most successful of his kind,  
Whose Foreheads force oft his Opposers pressed,  
Whose swiftness left Pursuers shafts behind)  
Is now of all the Forest most distressed!   

40.  
The Herd deny him shelter, as if taught  
To know their safety is to yield him lost;  
Which shows they want not the results of thought,  
But speech, by which we ours for reason boast.   

41.  
We blush to see our politics in Beasts,  
Who Many saved by this one Sacrifice;  
And since through blood they follow interests,  
Like us when cruel should be counted wise.   

42.  
His Rivals that his fury used to fear  
For his loved Female, now his faintness shun;  
But were his season hot, and she but near,  
(O mighty Love!) his Hunters were undone.   

43.  
From thence, well blown, he comes to the Relay;  
Where Mans famed reason proves but Cowardice,  
And only serves him meanly to betray;  
Even for the flying, Man, in ambush lies.   

44.  
But now, as his last remedy to live,  
(For every shift for life kind Nature makes;  
Since life the utmost is which she can give)  
Cool Adice from the swollen Bank he takes.   

45.  
But this fresh Bath the Dogs will make him leave;  
Whom he sure nosed as fasting Tigers found;  
Their scent no North-east wind could e'er deceive  
Which dries the air, nor Flocks that foil the Ground.   

46.  
Swift here the Flyers and Pursuers seem;  
The frighted Fish swim from their Adice,  
The Dogs pursue the Deer, he the fleet stream,  
And that hastes swiftly to the Adrian Sea.   

47.  
Refreshed thus in this fleeting Element,  
He up the steadfast Shore did boldly rise;  
And soon escaped their view, but not their scent;  
That faithful Guide which even conducts their Eyes.   

48.  
This frail relief was like short gales of breath,  
Which oft at Sea a long dead calm prepare;  
Or like our Curtains drawn at point of death,  
When all our Lungs are spent, to give us air.   

49.  
For on the Shore the Hunters him attend;  
And whilst the Chase grew warm as is the day  
(Which now from the hot Zenith does descend)  
He is imbosed, and wearied to a Bay.   

50.  
The Jewel, Life, he must surrender here;  
Which the world's Mistress, Nature, does not give,  
But like dropped Favours suffers us to wear,  
Such as by which pleased Lovers think they live.   

51.  
Yet life he so esteems, that he allows  
It all defence his force and rage can make;  
And to the Regan Race such fury shows  
As their last blood some unrevenged forsake.   

52.  
But now the Monarch Murderer comes in,  
Destructive Man! whom Nature would not arm,  
As when in madness mischief is fore-seen,  
We leave it weaponless for fear of harm.   

53.  
For she defenceless made him, that he might  
Less readily offend; but Art arms all,  
From single strife makes us in Numbers fight;  
And by such art this Royal Stag did fall.   

54.  
Now weeps till grief does even his Murderers pierce;  
Grief, which so nobly through his anger strove,  
That it deserved the dignity of Verse,  
And had it words as humanly would move.   

55.  
Thrice from the ground his vanquished Head he reared,  
And with last looks his Forest walks did view;  
Where sixty Summers he had ruled the Herd,  
And where sharp Dittanie now vainly grew:   

56.  
Whose hoary Leaves no more his wounds shall heal;  
For with a Sigh (a blast of all his breath)  
That viewless thing called Life, did from him steal;  
And with their Bugle Horns they wind his death.   

57  
Then with their annual wanton sacrifice  
(Taught by old custom, whose decrees are vain,  
And we like humorous Antiquaries prize  
Age though deformed) they hasten to the Plain.   

58.  
Thence homeward bend as Westward as the Sun;  
Where Gondibert's allies proud Feasts prepare,  
That day to honour which his Grandfire won;  
Though Feasts the Eves to funerals often are.   

59  
One from the Forest now approached their sight,  
Who them did swiftly on the Spur pursue;  
One there still resident as Day and Night,  
And known as th' eldest Oak which in it grew.   

60.  
Who with his utmost breath, advancing cries,  
(And such a vehemence no Art could feign)  
Away, happy the Man that fastest flies;  
Fly famous Duke, fly with thy noble Train!   

61.  
The Duke replied, though with thy fears disguised,  
Thou dost my Sires old Rangers Image bear,  
And for thy kindness shalt not be despised;  
Though Counsels are but weak which come from fear.   

62.  
Were Dangers here, great as thy love can shape;  
(And love with fear can danger multiply)  
Yet when by flight, thou bidst us meanly scape,  
Bid Trees take wings, and rooted Forests fly.   

63.  
Then said the Ranger, you are bravely lost,  
(And like high anger his complexion rose)  
As little know I fear, as how to boast;  
But shall attend you through your many Foes.   

64.  
See where in ambush mighty Oswald lay;  
And see from yonder Lawn he moves apace,  
With Lances armed to intercept thy way,  
Now thy sure Steeds are wearied with the Chase.   

65.  
His purple Banners you may there behold,  
Which (proudly spread) the fatal Raven bear;  
And full five hundred I by Rank have told,  
Who in their guilded Helms his Colours wear.   

66.  
The Duke this falling storm does now discern;  
Bids little Hugo fly▪ but 'tis to view  
The Foe, and timely their first countenance learn,  
Whilst firm he in a square his Hunters drew.   

67.  
And Hugo soon (light as his Courser's Heels)  
Was in their Faces troublesome as wind;  
And like to it (so wingedly he wheels)  
No one could catch, what all with trouble find.   

68  
But every where the Leaders and the Led  
He temp'rately observed, with a slow sight;  
Judged by their looks how hopes and fears were fed,  
And by their order, their success in fight.   

69.  
Their Number (' mounting to the Rangers guess)  
In three Divisions evenly was disposed;  
And that their Enemies might judge it less,  
It seemed one Gross with all the Spaces closed.   

70.  
The Van fierce Oswald led, where Paradine  
And Manly Dargonet (both of his blood)  
Outshined the Noon, and their Minds stock within  
Promised to make that outward glory good.   

71.  
The next bold, but unlucky, Hubert led;  
Brother to Oswald, and no less allied  
To the ambitions which his Soul did wed;  
Lowly without, but lined with costly Pride.   

72.  
Most to himself his valour fatal was,  
Whose glories oft to others dreadful were;  
So Comets (though supposed Destructions cause)  
But waste themselves to make their Gazer's ●e●r.   

73.  
And though his valour seldom did succeed,  
His speech was such as could in Storms persuade;  
Sweet as the Hopes on which starved Lovers feed,  
Breathed in the whispers of a yielding Maid.   

74.  
The bloody Borgio did conduct the Rear,  
Whom sullen Vasco heedfully attends;  
To all but to themselves they cruel were,  
And to themselves chiefly by mischief Friends.   

75.  
War, the world's Art, Nature to them became;  
In Camps begot, born, and in anger bred;  
The living vexed till Death, and then their Fame;  
Because even Fame some life is to the Dead.   

76.  
Cities (wise States-men's Folds for civil Sheep)  
They sacked, as painful Sheerers of the wise;  
For they like careful Wolves would lose their sleep,  
When others prosperous toils might be their prize.   

77.  
Hugo amongst the●● Troops spied many more  
Who had, as brave Destroyer's, got renown;  
And many forward wounds in boast they wore;  
Which if not well revenged, had ne'er been shown.   

78.  
Such the bold Leaders of these Launceers were,  
Which of the Brescian Vet'rans did consist;  
Whose practised age might charge of Armies bear,  
And claim some rank in Fame's eternal List.   

79.  
Back to his Duke the dextr'rous Hugo flies;  
What he observed he cheerfully declares;  
With noble Pride did what he liked despise;  
For wounds he threatened, whilst he praised their scars.   

80.  
Lord Arnold cried, vain is the Bugle Horn,  
Where Trumpets Men to Manly work invite!  
That distant summons seems to say in scorn,  
We Hunters may be hunted hard ere night.   

81.  
Those Beasts are hunted hard that hard can fly,  
Replied aloud the noble Hurgonil;  
But we not used to flight, know best to die,  
And those who know to die, know how to kill.   

82.  
Victors through number never gained applause;  
If they exceed our count in Arms and Men,  
It is not just to think that odds, because  
One Lover equals any other Ten.    

CANTO the Third.  
The ARGUMENT.  

The Ambush is become an interview;  
And the Surprise proves to honour true;  
For what had first, ere words his fury spent,  
Been murder, now is but brave killing meant.  
A Duel formed where Princes Seconds are,  
And urged by Honour each to kill his share.   

1.  
THe Duke observed (whilst safe in his firm Square)  
Whether their form did change whom Oswald led;  
That thence he shifts of figure might prepare,  
Divide, or make more depth, or loosely spread.   

2.  
Though in their posture close, the Prince might guests  
The Duke's to his not much in number yield;  
And they were leading Youth, who would possess  
This Ground in Graves, rather than quit the Field.   

3.  
Thus (timely certain of a standing Foe)  
His formed Divisions yet revealed no space  
Through haste to charge; but as they nearer grow,  
The more divide, and move with slower pace.   

4.  
On these the Duke attends with watchful eye;  
Shaped all his Forces to their Triple strength;  
And that their Lances might pass harmless by,  
Widens his Ranks, and gives his Files more length.   

5.  
At distance Oswald does him sharply view,  
Whom but in Fame he met till this sad hour;  
But his fair fame, Virtues known Image, knew;  
For Virtue spreads the Owner more than Power.   

6.  
In Fields far severed both had reaped renown;  
And now his envy does to surfeit feed  
On what he wished his Eyes had never known;  
For he begins to check his purposed deed.   

7.  
And though Ambition did his rage renew;  
Yet much he grieved (moved with the Youthful Train)  
That Plants which so much promised as they grew,  
Should in the Bud be ere performance, slain.   

8.  
With these remorseful thoughts, he a fair space  
Advanced alone, then did his Troops command  
To halt; the Duke th'example did embrace,  
And gives like order by his lifted hand.   

9  
Then when in easy reach of either's voice  
Thus Oswald spoke, I wish (brave Gondibert)  
Those wrongs which make thee now my anger's choice,  
Like my last fate were hidden from my heart.   

10.  
But since great Glory does allow small rest,  
And bids us jealously to honour wake,  
Why at alarms given hot even at my breast,  
Should I not arm, but thinks my Scouts mistake?   

11.  
'Tis loud in Camps, in Cities, and in Court,  
(Where the important part of Mankind meets)  
That my adoption is thy Faction's sport;  
Scorned by hoarse Rhymers in Verona Streets.   

12.  
Who is renowned enough but you or I  
(And think not when you visit Fame, she less  
Will welcome you for mine known Company)  
To hope for Empire at our King's decease?   

13.  
The Crown he with his Daughter has designed;  
His favour (which to me does frozen prove)  
Grows warm to you, as th'Eyes of Rhodalind,  
And she gives sacred Empire with her love.   

14.  
Whilst you usurp thus, and my claim deride,  
If you admire the vengeance I intent,  
I more shall wonder where you got the pride  
To think me one you safely may offend.   

15.  
Nor judge is strange I have this Ambush laid;  
Since you (my Rival) wronged me by surprise;  
Whose darker vigilance my love betrayed;  
And so your ill example made me wise.   

16.  
But in the School of glory we are taught,  
That greatness and success should measure deeds;  
Than not my great revenge, nor your great fault,  
Can be accused when either's act succeeds.   

17.  
Opinions stamp does virtue currant make;  
But such small Money (though the People's Gold  
With which they trade) great Dealers scorn to take,  
And we are greater than one world can hold.   

18.  
Now Oswald pawsed, as if he curious were  
E'er this his Foe (the People's Favourite) died,  
To know him as with Eyes, so with his Ear;  
And to his speech thus Gondibert replied:   

19  
Successful Prince! since I was never taught  
To court a Threating Foe, I will not pay  
For all the Trophies you from war have brought  
A single wreath, though all these woods were B●y!   

20.  
Nor would I by a total silence yield  
My honour ta'en, though I were prisoner made;  
Lest you should think we may be justly killed,  
And sacred justice by mistake invade.   

21.  
You might perceive (had not a distant war  
Hindered our Breasts the use of being known)  
My small ambition hardly worth your care;  
Unless by it you would correct your own.   

22.  
The King's objected love is but your dream,  
As false as that I strive for Rhodalind  
As Valour's hire; these sickly visions seem  
Which in Ambition's Fever vex your mind.   

23.  
Nor wonder if I vouch, that 'tis not brave  
To seek war's hire, though war we still pursue;  
Nor censure this a proud excuse to save  
These who no safety know, but to subdue.   

24.  
Your misbelief my hireless valour scorns;  
But your hired valour were your faith reclaimed,  
(For faith reclaimed to highest virtue turns)  
Will be of bravest salary ashamed.   

25.  
Only with fame Valour of old was hired;  
And love was so sufficed with its own taste,  
That those intemperate seemed, who more desired  
For love's reward, than that itself should last.   

26.  
If love, or lust of Empire, breed your pain,  
Take what my prudent hope hath still declined,  
And my weak virtue never could sustain,  
The Crown, which is the worst of Rhodalind.   

27.  
'Tis she who taught you to increase renown,  
By sowing Honour's Field with noble deeds;  
Which yields no harvest when 'tis overgrown  
With wild Ambition, the most rank of weeds.   

28.  
Go, reconcile the winds fallen▪ out at Sea  
With these ●ame precepts, (Oswald did reply)  
But since thou dost bequeath thy hopes to me,  
Know Legacies are vain till Givers die.   

29.  
And here his rage ascended to his Eyes  
From his close breast, which hid till then the flame;  
And like stirred fire in sparkles upward flies;  
Rage's which the Duke thus practised to reclaim.   

30.  
Though you designed your ruin by surprise,  
Though much in useful Arms you us exceed,  
And in your number some advantage lies,  
Yet you may find you such advantage need.   

31.  
If I am valued as th' impediment  
Which hinders your adoption to the Crown;  
Let your revenge only on me be spent,  
And hazard not my Party, nor your own.   

32.  
Ambition else would up to Godhead grow,  
When so profanely we our anger prize,  
That to appease it we the blood allow  
Of whole offenceless Herds for sacrifice.   

33.  
Oswald (who Honour's public pattern was,  
Till vain ambition led his heart aside)  
More temperate grew in manage of his cause,  
And thus to noble Gondibert replied:   

34.  
I wish it were not needful to be great;  
That Heavens unenvied power might Men so awe,  
As we should need no Armies for defeat,  
Nor for protection be at charge of Law.   

35.  
But more than heavens, Men, Man's authority  
(Though envied) use, because more understood;  
For but for that Life's Utensils would be,  
In Markets, as in Camps the price of blood.   

36.  
Since the World's safety we in greatness find,  
And power divided is from greatness gone,  
Save we the World, though to ourselves unkind,  
By both endang'ring to establish one.   

37.  
Nor these, who kindle with my wrongs their rage,  
Nor those bold Youth, who warmly you attend,  
Our distant Camps by action shall engage;  
But we our own great cause will singly end.   

38.  
Back to your noble Hunters straight retire,  
And I to those who would those Hunter's chase;  
Let us persuade their fury to expire,  
And give obediently our anger place.   

39  
Like unconcerned Spectators let them stand,  
And be by sacred vow to distance bound;  
Whilst their loved Leaders by our strict command,  
As patient witnesses, approach this ground.   

40.  
Where with no more defensive Arms than was  
By Nature meant us, who ordained Men Friends,  
We will on foot determine our great cause,  
On which the Lombard's doubtful peace depends.   

41.  
The Duke full low did bow, and soon obey,  
Confessed his honour he transcendent finds,  
Said he their persons might a meaner way  
With odds have awed, but this subdues their Minds.   

42.  
Now winged with hope they to their Troops return,  
Oswald his old grave Brescians' makes retire,  
Lest if too near, though like slow Match they burn,  
The Duke's rash Youth like Powder might take fire.   

43.  
First with their noble Chiefs they treat aside,  
Plead it humanity to bleed alone,  
And term it needless cruelty and pride  
With others Sacrifice to grace their own.   

44.  
Then to their Troops gave their resolved command  
Not to assist, through anger nor remorse;  
Who seemed more willing patiently to stand,  
Because each side presumed their Champion's force.   

45.  
Now near that ground ordained by them and Fate,  
To be the last where one or both must tread,  
Their chosen Judges they appoint to wait;  
Who thither were like grieved Spectators led.   

46.  
These from the distant Troops far severed are;  
And near their Chiefs divided Stations take;  
Who straight unclothe, and for such deeds prepare,  
By which stripped Souls their fleshy Robes forsake.   

47.  
But Hubert now advanced, and cried aloud,  
I will not trust uncertain Destiny,  
Which may obscurely kill me in a Crowd,  
That here have power in public view to die.   

48.  
Oswald my Brother is! If any dare  
Think Gondibert's great name more Kingly sounds,  
Let him alight, and he shall leave the care  
Of choosing Monarches, to attend his wounds!   

49.  
This Hurgonil received with greedy Ear,  
Told him his summons boldly did express,  
That he had little judgement whom to fear,  
And in the choice of Kings his skill was less.   

50.  
With equal haste they then alight and met,  
Where both their Chiefs in preparation stood;  
Whilst Paradine and furious Dargonet,  
Cried out, we are of Oswald's Princely blood.   

51.  
Are there not yet two more so fond of same,  
So true to Gondibert, or Love's commands,  
As to esteem it an unpleasant shame  
With idle eyes to look on busy hands?   

52.  
Such haste makes Beauty when it Youth forsakes,  
And day from Travellers when it does set,  
As Arnold to proud Paradine now makes,  
And little Hugo to tall Dargonet.   

53.  
The bloody Borgio, who with anguish stayed,  
And checked his rage, till these of Oswald's Race,  
By wished example their brave Challenge made,  
Now like his curbed Steed foaming, shifts his place.   

54.  
And thus (with haste and choler hoarse) he spoke,  
Who e'er amongst you thinks we destined are  
To serve that King your Courtly Camp shall make,  
Falsely he loves, nor is his Lady fair!   

55.  
This scarce could urge the temperate Tybalts fire,  
Who said, When Fate shall Aribert remove,  
As ill then wilt thou judge who should aspire,  
As who is fair, that art too rude to love.   

56.  
But scarce had this reply reached Borgio's Ear,  
When Goltho louder cried, what ere he be  
Dares think her foul who hath a Lover here,  
Though Love I never knew, shall now know me.   

57  
Grave Tybalt, who had laid an early'r claim  
To this defiance, much distempered grows,  
And Goltho's forward Youth would sharply blame,  
But that old Vasco thus did interpose.   

58.  
That Boy who makes such haste to meet his fate,  
And fears he may (as if he knew it good)  
Through others pride of danger come too late,  
Shall read it straight ill written in his blood.   

59  
Let Empire fall, when we must Monarches choose,  
By what unpractised Childhood shall approve;  
And in tame peace let us our Manhood loose,  
When Boys yet wet with milk discourse of Love.   

60.  
As bashful Maids blush, as if justly blamed▪  
When forced to suffer some indecent Tongue,  
So Goltho blushed (whom Vasco made ashamed)  
As if he could offend by being young.   

61.  
But instantly offended bashfulness  
Does to a brave and beauteous anger turn,  
Which he in younger flames did so express,  
That scarce old Vasco's Embers seemed to burn.   

62.  
The Princes knew in this new kindled rage,  
Opinion might (which like unlucky wind  
Sat right to make it spread) their Troops engage;  
And therefore Oswald thus proclaimed his-mind.   

63.  
Seem we already dead, that to our words  
(As to the last requests men dying make)  
Your love but Mourners short respect affords,  
And ere interred you our commands forsake?   

64.  
We chose you Judges of our needful strife,  
Such whom the world (grown faithless) might esteem  
As weighty witnesses of parting life,  
But you are those we dying must condemn.   

65.  
Are we become such worthless sacrifice,  
As cannot to the Lombard's Heaven atone,  
Unless your added blood make up the price,  
As if you thought it worthier than our own?   

66.  
Our fame, which should survive before us, die!  
And let (since in our presence disobey▪ d)  
Renown of power, like that of beauty fly  
From knowledge, rather than be known decayed!   

67.  
This when with reverence heard, it would have made  
Old Armies melt, to mark at what a rate  
They spent their Hearts and Eyes, kindly afraid  
To be omitted in their Generals fate.   

68  
Hubert (whose princely quality more frees  
Him than the rest, from all command, unless  
He find it such as with his will agrees)  
Did nobly thus his firm resolve express:   

69.  
All greatness bred in blood be now abased!  
Instinct, the inward Image, which is wrought  
And given with Life, be like thawed wax defaced!  
Though that bred better honour than is taught;   

70.  
And may impressions of the common ill  
Which from street Parents the most low derives,  
Blot all my minds fair book if I stand still,  
Whilst Oswald singly for the Public strives:   

71.  
A Brothers love all that obedience stays,  
Which Oswald else might as my Leader claim;  
Whom as my love, my honour disobays,  
And bids me serve our greater Leader, Fame.   

72.  
With gentle looks Oswald to Hubert bows,  
And said, I then must yield that Hubert shall  
(Since from the same bright Sun our lustre grows)  
Rise with my Morn's, and with my Evening's fall!   

73.  
Bold Paradine and Dargonet revived  
Their suit, and cried, We are Astolpho's sons!  
Who from your highest spring his blood derived,  
Though now it down in lower Channels runs.   

74.  
Such lucky seasons to attain renown,  
We must not lose, who are to you allied;  
Others usurp, who would your dangers own,  
And what our duty is, in them is pride.   

75.  
Then as his last Decree thus Oswald spoke;  
You that vouchsafe to glory in my blood,  
Shall share my doom, which for your merits sake,  
Fate, were it bad, would alter into good.   

76.  
If any others disobedient rage,  
Shall with uncivil love intrude his aid,  
And by degrees our distant Troops engage,  
Be it his Curse still to be disobeyed.   

77.  
Wars Orders may he by the slow convey  
To such as only shall dispute them long;  
An ill peace make; when none will him obey,  
And be for that, when old, judged by the young.   

78.  
This said, he calmly bid the Duke provide  
Such of his blood, as with those chosen Three  
(Whilst their adoption they on foot decide)  
May in brave life or death fit Partners be.   

79.  
Though here (replied the Duke) I find not now  
Such as my blood with their alliance grace,  
Yet Three I see to whom your stock may bow,  
If love may be esteemed of heavenly Race.   

80.  
And much to me these are by love allied;  
Then Hugo, Arnold, and the Count drew near;  
Count Hurgonil wooed Orna for his Bride,  
The other Two in Laura Rivals were.   

81.  
But Tybalt cried (and swiftly as his voice  
Approached the Duke) forgive me mighty Chief,  
If justly I envy thy noble choice,  
And disobey thee in wronged Love's relief.   

82.  
If rev'renced love be sacred Myst'rie deemed,  
And mysteries when hid, to value grow,  
Why am I less for hidden love esteemed?  
To unknown Godhead, wise Religions bow,   

83.  
A Maid of thy high lineage much I love,  
And hide her name till I can merit boast,  
But shall I here (where I may worth improve)  
For prising her above myself, be lost?   

84.  
The Duke's firm bosom kindly seemed to melt  
At Tybalt's grief, that he omitted was;  
Who lately had Love's secret conquest felt,  
And hoped for public triumph in this cause.   

85.  
Then he decreed, Hugo (though chose before  
To share in this great work) should equally  
With Tybalt be exposed to Fortune's power,  
And by drawn Lots their wished election try.   

86.  
Hugo his dreaded Lord with cheerful awe  
Used to obey, and with implicit love;  
But now he must for certain honour draw  
Uncertain Lots, seems heavily to move.   

87.  
And here they trembling reached at honour so,  
As if they gathering Flowers a Snake discerned;  
Yet feared Love only whose rewards then grow  
To Lovers sweetest, when with danger earned.   

88  
From this brave fear, lest they should danger scape,  
Was little Hugo eased, and when he drew  
The Champion's lot, his joy enlarged his shape,  
And with his lifted mind he taller grew.   

89.  
But Tybalt stooped beneath his sorrows weight;  
Goltho and him kindly the Duke embraced;  
Then to their station sent; and Oswald strait  
His so enjoined, and with like kindness graced.   

90.  
When cruel Borgio does from Tybalt part,  
Vasco from Goltho, many a look they cast  
Backward in sullen message from the heart,  
And through their eyes their threatening anger waste.    

CANTO the Fourth.  
The ARGUMENT.  

The Duel where all rules of artful strife,  
To rescue or endanger Darling-life,  
Are by reserves of strength and courage shown;  
For killing was long since a Science grown.  
Th' event by which the Troops engaged are,  
As private rage too often turn to war.   

1.  
BY what bold passion am I rudely led,  
Like Fame's too curious and officious Spy,  
Where I these Rolls in her dark Closet read,  
Where Worthies wrapped in Time's disguises lie?   

2.  
Why should we now their shady Curtains draw,  
Who by a wise retirement hence are ●reed,  
And gone to Lands exempt from Nature's Law,  
Where love no more can mourn, nor valour bleed?   

3.  
Why to this stormy world from their long▪ rest,  
Are these recalled to be again displeased,  
Where during Nature's reign we are oppressed,  
Till we by Death's high privilege are eased?   

4.  
Is it to boast that Verse has Chemic power,  
And that its rage (which is productive heat)  
Can these revive, as Chemists raise a Flower,  
Whose scattered parts their Glass presents complete?   

5.  
Though in these Worthies gone, valour and love  
Did chastely as in sacred Temples meet,  
Such revived Patterns us no more improve,  
Than Flowers so raised by Chemists make us sweet.   

6.  
Yet when the souls disease we desperate find,  
Poets the old renowned Physicians are,  
Who for the sickly habits of the mind,  
Examples as the ancient cure prepare.   

7.  
And bravely then Physicians hononr gain,  
When to the world diseases cureless seem,  
And they (in Science valiant) ne'er refrain  
Arts war with Nature, till they life redeem.   

8.  
But Poets their accustomed task have long  
Forborn, (who for Examples did disperse  
The Hero's virtues in Heroic Song)  
And now think virtue sick, past cure of verse.   

9  
Yet to this desperate cure I will proceed,  
Such patterns show as shall not fail to move;  
Shall teach the valiant patience when they bleed,  
And hapless Lover's constancy in love.   

10.  
Now Honour's chance, the Duke with Oswald takes,  
The Count his great Stake, Life, to Hubert sets;  
Whilst his to Paradin's Lord Arnold stakes,  
And little Hugo throws at Dargonets.   

11.  
These Four on equal ground those Four oppose;  
Who wants in strength, supples it with his skill;  
So valiant that they make no haste to close;  
They not apace, but handsomely would kill.   

12.  
And as they more each others courage found,  
Each did their force more civilly express,  
To make so manly and so fair a wound,  
As loyal Ladies might be proud to dress.   

13.  
But vain, though wondrous, seems the short event  
Of what with pomp and Noise we long prepare:  
One hour of battle oft that force hath spent,  
Which Kings whole lives have gathered for a war.   

14.  
As Rivers to their ruin hasty be,  
So life (still earnest, loud, and swift) runs post  
To the vast Gulf of death, as they to Sea,  
And vainly travels to be quickly lost.   

15.  
And now the Fates (who punctually take care  
We not escape their sentence at our birth)  
Writ Arnold down where those inroled are  
Who must in Youth abruptly leave the Earth.   

16.  
Him Paradine into the Brow had pierced;  
From whence his blood so overflowed his Eyes,  
He grew too blind to watch and guard his breast,  
Where wounded twice, to Death's cold Court he hies.   

17.  
And Love (by which Life's name does value find,  
As Altars even subsist by ornament)  
Is now as to the Owner quite resigned,  
And in a sigh to his dear Laura sent.   

18.  
Yet Fates so civil were in cruelty  
As not to yield that he who conquered all  
The Tuscan Vale, should unartended die,  
They therefore doom that Dargonet must fall.   

19  
Whom little Hugo dexterously did vex  
With many wounds in unexpected place,  
Which yet not kill, but killingly perplex;  
Because he held their number a disgrace.   

20.  
For Dargonet in force did much exceed  
The most of Men, in valour equalled all;  
And was ashamed thus diversely to bleed,  
As if he stood where showers of Arrows fall.   

21.  
At once he ventures his remaining strength  
To Hugoes nimble skill, who did desire  
To draw this little war out into length,  
By motions quick as heavens fantastic fire!   

22.  
This fury now is grown too high at last  
In Dargonet; who does disorder all  
The strengths of temperance by unruly haste,  
Then down to Death's low Calm does breathless fall.   

23.  
When with his own Storm sunk, his Foe did spy  
Lord Arnold dead, and Paradine prepare  
To help Prince Oswald to that victory,  
Of which the Duke had yet an equal share.   

24.  
Vain Conqueror (said Hugo then) return!  
In stead of Laurel which the Victor wears,  
Go gather Cypress for thy Brother's Urn,  
And learn of me to water it with Tears.   

25.  
Thy Brother lost his life attempting mine;  
Which cannot for Lord Arnold's loss suffice:  
I must revenge (unlucky Paradine)  
The blood his death will draw from Laura's Eyes.   

26.  
We Rivals were in Laura, but though she  
My griefs derided, his with sighs approved;  
Yet I (in Loves exact integrity)  
Must take thy life for killing him She loved.   

27.  
These quick alike, and artfully as fierce,  
At one sad instant give and take that wound,  
Which does through both their vital Closets pierce;  
Where Life's small Lord doth warmly sit enthroned.   

28.  
And then they fell, and now near upper Heaven,  
heavens better part of them is hovering still,  
To watch what end is to their Princes given,  
And to brave Hubert, and to Hurgonil.   

29.  
In progress thus to their eternal home,  
Some method is observed by Destiny,  
Which at their Princes setting out did doom,  
These as their leading Harbingers to die.   

30.  
And fatal Hubert we must next attend,  
Whom Hurgonil had brought to such distress,  
That though Life's stock he did not fully spend,  
His glory that maintained it is grown less.   

31.  
Long had they strove, who first should be destroyed;  
And wounds (the Marks of Manhood) gave and took,  
Which though like honoured Age, we would avoid,  
Yet make us when possessed, for reverence look.   

32.  
O Honour! Frail as Life thy sellow Flower!  
Cherished and watched, and humr'ously esteemed,  
Then worn for short adornments of an hour;  
And is when lost no more than life redeemed.   

33.  
This fatal Hubert finds, if honour be  
As much in Princes lost, when it grows less,  
As when it dies in men of next degree:  
Princes are only Princes by excess.   

34.  
For having twice with his firm Opposite  
Exchanged a wound, yet none that reached at life,  
The adverse sword his Arms best sinew hit,  
Which holds that strength, which should uphold their strife.   

35.  
When thus his dear defence had left his Hand,  
Thy life (said Hurgonil) rejoice to wear  
As Orna's favour, and at her command;  
Who taught the mercy I will practise here.   

36.  
To which defenceless Hubert did reply,  
My life (a worthless Blank) I so despise,  
Since Fortune laid it in her Lotary,  
That I'm ashamed thou drawest it as a Prize.   

37.  
His grief made noble Hurgonil to melt,  
Who mourned in this a Warriors various fate;  
For though a Victor now, he timely felt  
That change which pains us most by coming late.   

38.  
But Orna (ever present in his thought)  
Prompts him to know, with what success for fame  
And Empire, Gondibert and Oswald fought;  
Whilst Hubert seeks out death▪ and shrinks from shame.   

39  
Valour, and all that practice torns to art,  
Alike the Princes had and understood;  
For Oswald now is cool as Gondibert;  
Such temper he has got by losing blood.   

40.  
Calmly their temper did their art obey;  
Their stretched Arms regular in motion prove;  
And force with as unseen a stealth convey,  
As noiseless hours by hands of Dial's move.   

41.  
By this new temper Hurgonil believed  
That Oswald's elder virtues might prevail;  
To think his own help needful much he grieved;  
But yet prepared it le●t the Duke should fail.   

42.  
Small wounds they had, where as in Casements ●ate  
Disordered Life; who seemed to look about,  
And fain would be abroad, but that a Gate  
She wants so wide, at once to ●ally out.   

43.  
When Gondibert saw Hurgonil draw near,  
And doubly armed at conquered Hubert's cost,  
He then, who never feared, began to fear,  
Lest by his help his honour should be lost.   

44.  
Retire, said he; for if thou hop'st to win  
My Sister's love by aiding in this strife;  
May Heaven (to make her think thy love a s●n)  
Eclipse that beauty which did give it life.   

45.  
Count Hurgonil did doubtfully retire,  
Feign would assist, yet durst not disobey;  
The Duke would rather instantly expire,  
Than hazard Honour's death, by death's delay.   

46.  
Alike did Oswald for dispatch prepare;  
And cries, Since Hubert knew not to subdue,  
Glory farewel, that art the Soldier's care,  
More loved than Woman, less than Woman true▪   

47.  
And now they strive with all their sudden force  
To storm Life's Cit●adil, each others Breast;  
At which could heavens chief Eye have felt remorse,  
It would have winked, or hastened to the West.   

48.  
But sure the Heavenly Movers little care  
Whether our motion here be false or true;  
For we proceed, whilst they are regular,  
As if we Dice for all our actions threw.   

49.  
We seem surrendered to indifferent Chance,  
Even Death's grave work looks like fantastic play;  
That Sword which oft did Oswald's fame advance  
In public war, fails in a private fray.   

50.  
For when (because he ebbs of blood did feel)  
He levelled all his strength at Gondibert,  
It clashed and broke against the adverse steel,  
Which travelled onward till it reached his heart.   

51.  
Now he that like a steadfast statue stood  
In many Battles registered by Fames,  
Does fall deprived of language as of blood;  
Whilst high the Hunters send their Victor's name.   

52.  
Some shout aloud, and others wind the Horn!  
They mix the Cities with the Fields applause;  
Which Borgio soon interprets as their scorn,  
And will revenge it ere he mourn the cause.   

53.  
This the cold Evening warmed of Vasco's age;  
He shined like scorching Noon in Borgio's looks,  
Who kindled all about him with his rage,  
And worse the Triumph than the Conquest brooks.   

54.  
The Troops (astonished with their Leaders fate)  
The horror first with silence entertain;  
With loud impatience than for Borgio wait,  
And next with one confusion all complain.   

55.  
Whom thus he urged! Prince Oswald did command  
We should remove far from the Combat's list;  
And there like unconcerned Spectators stand,  
Justly restrained to hinder or assist.   

56.  
This (Patient Friends!) we dully have obeyed;  
A temperance which he never taught before,  
But though alive he could forbid our aid,  
Yet dead, he leaves revenge within our power.    

CANTO the Fifth.  
The ARGUMENT.  

The Battle in exact, though little shape,  
Where none by flight, and few by fortune scape,  
Where even the vanquished so themselves behave,  
The Victors mourn for all they could not save:  
And fear (so soon is Fortune's fullness waned)  
To lose in one, all that by all they gained.   

1.  
NOw Hubert's Page assists his wounded Lord  
To mount that Steed, he scarce had force to guide;  
And wept to see his hand without that Sword  
Which was so oft in busy Battle tried.   

2.  
Those who with Borgio saw his want of blood,  
Cried out, If of thy strength enough remain,  
Though not to charge, to make thy conduct good  
Led us to add their living to our slain.   

3.  
Hubert replied, Now you may justly boast,  
You Sons of War, that Oswald was your Sire;  
Who got in you the honour I have lost;  
And taught those deeds our Lady's songs admire.   

4.  
But he (Wars Ancestor, who gave it birth,  
The Father of those Fights we Lombard's fought)  
Lies there embracing but his length of Earth,  
Who for your use the world's vast Empire sought.   

5.  
And cold as he lies noble Dargonet,  
And Paradine, who wore the Victor's Crown;  
Both swift to Charge, and lame in a Retreat;  
Brothers in blood, and Rivals in renown.   

6.  
This said, their Trumpets sound Revenge's praise;  
The Hunter's Horns (though terror of the wood)  
Replied so meanly, they could scarcely raise  
Echo so loud as might be understood.   

7.  
The Duke (his fit of fury being spent,  
Which only wounds and opposition bred)  
Does weep on faded Oswald, and lament  
What was so great in life, is nothing dead.   

8.  
But cried, when he the speechless Rivals spied,  
O worth, above the ancient price of Love!  
Lost are the living, for with these love died;  
Or if immortal, fled with them above.   

9  
In these we the intrinsic value know  
By which first Lovers did love currant deem;  
But Love's false Coiners will allay it now,  
Till men suspect what next they must contemn.   

10.  
Not less young Hurgonil resents their chance,  
Though no fit time to practise his remorse,  
For now he cries (finding the Foe advance)  
Let Death give way to life! to horse! to horse!   

11.  
This sorrow is too soft for deeds behind;  
Which I (a mortal Lover) would sustain;  
So as to make your Sister wisely kind,  
And praise me living, not lament me slain.   

12.  
Swift as Armenians in the Panther's chase  
They fly to reach where now their Hunters are;  
Who sought out danger with too bold a pace,  
Till thus the Duke did them aloud prepare.   

13.  
Impatient Friends, stand that your strength may last,  
Burn not in blaze rage that should warm you long!  
I wish to Foes the weaknesses of haste,  
To you such slowness as may keep you strong.   

14.  
Not their scorns force should your fixed patience move;  
Though scorn does more than bodes free minds provoke:  
Their flashy rage shall harmless lightning prove,  
Which but foreruns our Thunder's fatal stroke.   

15.  
For when their fury's spent, how weak they are  
With the dull weight of antique Vandal 〈◊〉  
Their work but short, and little is in war,  
Whom rage within, and Armour outward warms.   

16.  
When you have used those arts your patience yields,  
Try to avoid their couched Lances force  
By dexterous practice of Croation Fields,  
Which turns to lazy Elephants their Horse.   

17.  
When false retreat shall scatter you in flight,  
As if you back to Elements were fled;  
And no less faith can you again unite,  
Than recollects from Elements the dead.   

18.  
Make Chasers seem by your swift Rallies, slow;  
Whilst they your swifter change of figures fear,  
Like that in Battles, which t' amuse the Foe  
My Grandsire taught, as Wars Philosopher.   

19  
Think now your Valour enters on the Stage,  
Think Fame th'Eternal Chorus to declare  
Your mighty minds to each succeeding age,  
And that your Ladies the Spectators are.   

20.  
This uttered was with so supreme a grace,  
That every heart it emptied, and did raise  
Life's chiefest blood in valour to the Face,  
Which made such beauty as the Foe did praise.   

21.  
Yet 'twas Ambition's praise, which but approves  
Those whom through envy it would fain subdue;  
Likes others honour, but her own so loves,  
She thinks all others Trophies are her due.   

22.  
For Hubert now (though void of strength as fear)  
Advanced the first Division fast and far;  
Bold Borgio with the next attends his Rear,  
The Third was left to Vasco's steady care.   

23.  
The Duke still watched when each Divisions space  
Grew wide, that he might his more open spread;  
His own brave conduct did the foremost grace,  
The next the Count, the third true Tybalt led.   

24.  
A forward fashion he did wear a while,  
As if the Charge he would with fury meet;  
That he their forward fury might beguile,  
And urge them past redemption by retreat.   

25.  
But when with Lances couched they ready were,  
And their thick Front (which added Files in large)  
With their plied spurs kept time in a Career,  
Those soon were vanished whom they meant to charge.   

26.  
The Duke by flight his Manhood thus and force  
Reserved, and to his skill made Valour yield,  
Did seem to blush, that he must lead his Horse  
To lose a little ground, to gain the Field.   

27.  
Yet soon with Ralleys he revived the war;  
Hubert pursues the Rear of Hurgonil;  
And Borgio's Rear with Chase so loosened are,  
That them the Count does with close order kill.   

28.  
And that which was erewhile the Duke's firm Van,  
Before old Vasco's Front vouchsafe to fly,  
Till with Croation Ralleys they began  
In small Divisions hidden strength to try.   

29.  
Then cursing Borgio cried, Whence comes his skill,  
Who men so scattered can so firmly mix?  
The living Metal, held so volatile  
By thy dull word, this Chemic Lord can fix!   

30.  
He pressed where Hurgonil his fury spends,  
As if he now in Orna's presence fought;  
And with respect his brave approach attends,  
To give him all the dangers which he sought.   

31.  
So bloody was th'event of this new strife,  
That we may here applauded valour blame;  
Which oft too easily abandons Life,  
Whilst Death is Parent made of noble Fame.   

32.  
For many now (beloved by both) forsake  
In their pursuit of flying Fame, their breath;  
And through the world their Valour currant make,  
By giving it the ancient stamp of death.   

33.  
Young Hurgonil's renowned self had bought  
Honour of Borgio at no less a rate,  
Had not the Duke dispatched with those he sought,  
And found his aid must fly, or come too late.   

34.  
For he advancing see (which much him grieved)  
That in the fairest Region of the Face,  
He two wide wounds from Borgio had received;  
His beauty's blemish, but his valour's grace.   

35.  
Now cried the Duke, strive timely for renown!  
Thy Age will kiss those wounds thy Youth may loathe;  
Be not dismayed to see thy beauty gone;  
My Sister's thine, who has enough for both.   

36.  
Then soon the Youth, Death as an honour gave  
To one that Strove to rescue Borgio's life;  
Yet Borgio had dispatched him to his grave,  
Had Gondibert stood neutral in the Strife:   

37.  
Who with his sword (disdaining now to stay  
And see the blood he loved so rudely spilt)  
Pierced a bold Lombard who imbarred his way;  
Even till his heart did beat against his Hilt.   

38.  
Timely old Vasco came to Borgio's aid;  
Whose long experienced Arm wrought sure and fast;  
His rising oppositions levelly laid,  
And missed no execution by his haste.   

39  
And timely where the bleeding Count now fought,  
And where the Duke with Number was oppressed,  
Resistless Tybalt came, who Borgio sought,  
But here with many Borgios did contest.   

40.  
As Tides, that from their several Channels haste,  
Assemble rudely in th' Ub●an Bay,  
And meeting there to indistinction waste,  
Strive to proceed, and force each others stay.   

41.  
So here the valiant who with swift force come,  
With as resistless valour are engaged;  
Are hid in angers undistinguished Foam,  
And make less way by meeting so enraged.   

42.  
But room for Goltho now! Whose valour's fire,  
Like lightning, did unlikely passage make;  
Whose swift effects like lightnings they admire,  
And even the harms it wrought with reverence take.   

43.  
Vasco he seeks, who had his Youth disdained;  
And in that search he with irreverend rage,  
Revengefully from younger Foes abstained,  
And deadly grew where he encountered Age.   

44.  
And Vasco now had felt his Gothick steel,  
But that Duke Gondibert (through Helm and Head)  
The last dire stroke which Vasco ere shall feel  
Did give, and sent him to adorn the dead.   

45.  
Here Borgio too had fallen, but bravely then  
The Count so much revenged the wounds he gave,  
As Gondibert (the Prop of falling Men)  
Such sinking greatness could not choose but save.   

46.  
When Vasco was removed, the Count declined  
His bashful Eyes; the Duke thought sudden shame  
(From sense of luckless wounds) possessed his mind;  
Which thus he did reform, and gently blame.   

47.  
Now thy complexion lasting is, and good!  
As when the Sun sets red, his Morning Eyes  
In glory wake, so now thou setst in blood,  
Thy parting beauty will in honour rise.   

48.  
These scars thou needst not from my Sister hide;  
For as our Father, in brave battle lost,  
She first did name with sorrow, then with pride,  
Thy beauty's loss she'll mourn and after boast.   

49.  
Mine are but Love's false wounds (said Hurgonil)  
To what you Vasco gave; for I must grieve  
My strength of honour could not Vasco kill,  
That honour lost, yet I have strength to live.   

50.  
But now behold vexed Hubert, who in all  
This battle was by ready conduct known,  
And though unarmed, and his spent force so small  
He could to none bring death, yet sought his own:   

51.  
And every where, where Rallies made a Gross  
He charged; and now with last reserves he tried  
His too slow fate from Gondibert to force,  
Where he was Victor and where Vasco died.   

52.  
The Duke (in Honour's School exactly bred)  
Would not that this defenceless Prince should be  
Involved with those, whom he to dying led,  
Therefore ordained him still from slaughter free.   

53.  
And now his power did gently make him know,  
That he must keep his life, and quit the cause;  
More Prisoner to himself than to his Foe,  
For life within himself in Prison was.   

54.  
His fierce Assistance did not quit the Field,  
Till forward marks declared they fairly fought;  
And then they all with sullen slowness yield;  
Vexed they had found what vain Revenge had sought.   

55.  
In the renowned destruction of this day,  
Four hundred Leaders were by valour's pride  
Led to blessed shades, by an uncertain way,  
Where lowliness is held the surest Guide.   

56.  
And twice the Tierce of these consists of those  
Who for Prince Oswald's love of Empire bled;  
The Duke does thus with thanks and praise dispose  
Both of the worthy living, and the dead.   

57  
Bind all your wounds, and shed not that brave life,  
Which did in all by great demeanour past,  
(Teaching your Foes a wiser choice of strife)  
Deserve a Lease of Nature that may last.   

58.  
Love warmed you with those hints which kindled me;  
And formed Ideas in each lovers thought  
Of the distress of some beloved she,  
Who then inspired, and praised you whilst you fought.   

59  
You nobly prompt my passion to desire,  
That the rude Crowd who Lovers softness scorn,  
Might in fair field meet those who love admire,  
To try which side must after Battle mourn.   

60.  
O that those rights which should the good advance,  
And justly are to painful valour due,  
(How ere misplaced by the swift hand of Chance)  
Were from that Crowd defended by those few!   

61.  
With this great Spectacle we should refresh  
Those Chiefs, who (though preferred by being dead)  
Would kindly wish to fight again in flesh:  
So all that loved by Hurgonil were led.   

62.  
This gracious mention from so great a Lord,  
Bowed Hurgonil with duteous homage down,  
Where at his feet he laid his rescned Sword;  
Which he accepts, but he returns his own.   

63.  
By this and thine, said gentle Gondibert,  
In all distress of various Courts and war,  
We interpledge and bind each others heart,  
To strive who shall possess griefs greatest share.   

64.  
Now to Verona haste, and timely bring  
Thy wounds unto my tender Sister's care;  
This Days sad story to our dreaded King,  
And watch what vengeance Oswald's Friends prepare.   

65.  
Brave Arnold, and his Rival straight remove;  
Where Laura shall bestrew their hallowed Ground;  
Protectors both, and Ornaments of Love;  
This said, his Eyes out-weeped his widest wound.   

66.  
Tell her now these (Love's faithful Saints) are gone,  
The beauty they adored, she ought to hide;  
For vainly will Love's Miracles be shown,  
Since Lover's faith with these brave Rivals died.   

67.  
Say little Hugo never more shall mourn  
In noble Numbers her unkind disdain;  
Who now not seeing beauty feels no scorn;  
And wanting pleasure, is exempt from pain.   

68  
When she with Flowers Lord Arnold's Grave shall strew,  
And hears why Hugoes life was thrown away,  
She on that Rival's Hearse will drop a few;  
Which merits all that April gives to May.   

69.  
Let us forsake for safety of our Eyes  
Our other loss; which I will strait inter,  
And raise a Trophy where each Body lies;  
Vain marks, how those alive the Dead prefer!   

70.  
If my full Breast, my wounds that empty be,  
And this Days toil (by which my strength is gone)  
Forbid me not, I Bergamo will see  
E'er it beholds the next succeeding Sun.   

71.  
Thither convey thy souls consid'rate thought,  
How in this cause the Court and Camp's inclined;  
What Oswald's Faction with the King has wrought,  
And how his loss prevails with Rhodalind.   

72.  
The Count and Tybalt take their lowly leaves▪  
Their slain they sadly, with consuming hearts,  
Bear towards Verona, whilst the Duke perceives  
Prince Hubert's grief, and thus his tears diverts.   

73.  
Afflicted Prince! in an unpleasant hour  
You and your living (by blind valour led)  
Are captives made to such an easy power,  
Shall you as little vex, as Death your dead.   

74.  
The Dead can ne'er by living help return  
From that dark Land, which life could ne'er diselese;  
But these alive (for whom the Victor's mourn)  
To thee I give, thee to thine own dispose.   

75.  
Be not with honours guilded Baits beguiled;  
Nor think Ambition wife, because 'tis brave;  
For though we like it, as a forward Child,  
'Tis so unsound, her Cradle is her Grave.   

76.  
Study the mighty Oswald vainly gone!  
Fierce Paradine, and Dargonet the stout!  
Whose Thirds by patient Parcaes slowly spun,  
Ambition's haste has rashly ravelled out.   

77.  
But Hubert's grief no precept could reform:  
For great grief counselled, does to anger grow;  
And he provided now a future Storm,  
Which did with black revenge o'ercast his Brow.   

78.  
Borgio and he from this dire Region haste;  
Shame makes them sightless to themselves and dumb;  
Their thoughts fly swift as Time from what is past;  
And would like him demolish all to come.   

79.  
Straight they inter th'inferior of their slain;  
Their nobler Tragic load their grief attends  
Towards Brescia, where the Camp they hope to gain,  
Then force the Court by faction of their Friends.   

80.  
To Bergamo the gentle Duke does turn  
With his surviving Lovers, who in kind  
Remembrance every step look back, and mourn  
Their fellow Lover's Death has stayed behind.   

81.  
Some lost their quiet Rivals, some their dear  
Love's Brother, who their hopes with help approved;  
Some such joyed Friends, as even tomorrow were  
To take from Hymen those they dearest loved.   

82.  
But now to Gondibert they forward look,  
Whose wounds, ere he could waste three league of way,  
So waste him, that his speech him quite forsaken,  
And Nature calls for Art to make Life stay.   

83.  
His Friends in torment lest they should forsake  
Delightful him, for whom alone they live;  
Urge Heaven uncivilly for calling back  
So soon such worth, it does so seldom give.    

CANTO the Sixth.  
The ARGUMENT.  

The Victor is (when with his wounds subdued)  
By such deformed and dismal Troops pursued,  
That he thinks Death, than which they uglier seem,  
No ill expedient to escape from them.  
But ULFIN guides him to sage ASTRAGON,  
By the last Rays of the descending Sun.   

1.  
SCarce on their Duke their fears kind fit was spent,  
When straight a thick armed Squadron clouds their sight,  
Which cast so dark a shade, as if it meant  
Without the Sun's slow leave, to bring in night.   

2.  
This threatening Squadron did consist of Horse,  
And by old Ulfin they were gravely led,  
Whose mind was sound, nor wants his Body force,  
Though many Winter's Snow had cooled his head.   

3.  
The sad remainder who with Hubert went,  
Did miss his reach, when they to Brescia turned,  
And now (as if his haste destruction meant)  
He chased these who the Dukes spent valour mourned.   

4.  
Whose posture being loose, their number few,  
His Scouts grow scornful as they forward come,  
He makes his Squadron halt, and near he drew,  
Then asks aloud, what are you, and for whom?   

5.  
The noble Goltho (whose great deeds to day  
Prevented Manhood in his early youth)  
Believed him Oswald's Friend, yet scorned the way  
To shelter life, behind abandoned Truth.   

6.  
For he to Ulfin boldly thus replied,  
This second Ambush finds us here in vain;  
We have no treasure left that we would hide,  
Since Gondibert is reckoned with the slain.   

7.  
Duke Gondibert we vouch to be our Lord,  
To whose high virtues Sovereignty we bow;  
Oswald sunk low, as death, beneath his Sword,  
Though him superior Fate will vanquish now.   

8.  
Scarce empty Eagles stooping to their prey,  
Could be more swift than Ulfin to alight,  
And come where Gondibert expiring lay;  
Now pleasing those whom he did newly fright.   

9  
For scarce that reverence which a Monarch draws,  
Who seldom will be seen, though often sought;  
Who spends his careful age in making Laws,  
To rule those lands for which in youth he fought.   

10.  
Nor that respect which People pay those Kings,  
Whose peace makes rich, whom civil war made wise,  
Can equal this which aged Ulfin brings  
The gentle Duke, to whom he prostrate lies.   

11.  
His Eyes (not used to tears) bathe every wound;  
Which he salutes as things he chiefly loved;  
And when expense of spirits he had found,  
To gain him air, his Mourners he removed.   

12.  
Make way, said he, and give Experience room,  
The Confident of age, though Youth's scorned guide,  
My wounds, though past, out number yours to come,  
You can but hope the knowledge I have tried.   

13.  
His Hilts round Pommel he did then unskrew,  
And thence (which he from ancient Precept wore)  
In a small Crystal he a Cordial drew,  
That weary life could to her walks restore.   

14.  
This care (amazing all it does delight)  
His ruins, which so reverend appear,  
With wonder not so much surprise their sight,  
As a strange object now his Troops draw near.   

15.  
In whom such death and want of limbs they find,  
As each were lately called out of his Tomb,  
And left some members hastily behind,  
Or came, when born, abortive from the Womb.   

16.  
Yet this defect of Legs, or Arms, or Hands,  
Did wondering valour not disturb, but please;  
To see what divers weapons each commands  
With arts hard shifts, till custom gave them ease.   

17.  
But the uncomely absence of an Eye,  
And larger wants, which every visage mourned,  
(Where black did over-vail, or ill supply)  
Was that which wonder into horrid turned.   

18.  
And Ulfin might be thought (when the rude wind  
Lifting their Curtains, left their ruins bare)  
A formal Antiquary, gravely kind  
To Statues, which he now drew out to air.   

19  
The Duke (whose absent knowledge was called back  
By Cordials power) his wonder did increase  
So much, that he again did knowledge lack,  
Till thus old Ulfin made his wonder cease.   

20.  
Auspicious Prince! recorded be this day,  
And sung by Priests of each ensuing Age;  
On which thou may'st receive, and I may pay  
Some debts of duty, as thy Grandsire's Page.   

21.  
That mighty Chief I served in youth's first strength,  
Who our short Sceptre meant to stretch so far,  
Till Eastern Kings might grieve theirs wanted length,  
Whose Maps scarce teach where all their Subjects are.   

22.  
Full many stormy winters we have seen,  
When kindled Valour's heat was all our fire,  
Else we in stupid Frosts had fettered been,  
By which soft sinews are congealed to wire.   

23.  
And many scorching Summers we have felt,  
Where Death relieves all whom the sword invades;  
And kindly thence (where we should toiling melt)  
Leads us to rest beneath eternal shades.   

24.  
For aid of action he obedience taught,  
And silent patience for afflictions cure:  
He praised my courage when I boldly fought,  
But said, They conquer most, that most endure.   

25.  
The toils of diligence as much approved  
Ass Valour's self, or th'Arts her practice gains;  
The care of Men, more than of glory loved,  
Success rewarded, and successless pains.   

26.  
To joyful Victors quenching water sent,  
Delightful wine to their lamenting slaves;  
For Feasts have more brave lives than Famine spent,  
And Temperance more than Trench or Armour saves.   

27.  
Valour his Mistress, Caution was his Friend;  
Both to their different seasons he applied;  
The first he loved, on th'other did depend;  
The first made worth uneasy by her pride.   

28.  
He to submiss devotion more was given  
After a battle gained, than ere 'twas fought;  
As if it nobler were to thank high Heaven  
For favours past, than bow for bounty sought.   

29.  
And thus through smarting heat, and aching cold,  
Till heavens perpetual Traveller▪ had more  
Than thirty journeys through the Zodiac told,  
I served thy Grandsire, whom I now adore.   

30.  
For Heaven in his too ripe and weary age,  
Called him, where peacefully he rules a Star;  
Freed from the lower El'ments ceaseless rage,  
Which last like Monarch's power by needful war.   

31.  
Straight thy lamented Father did succeed  
To his high place, by Aribert's consent,  
Our Ensigns through remoter Lands to lead:  
Him too I followed till he upward went.   

32.  
Till that black day on which the Hunns may boast  
Their own defeat, and we our conquest hide;  
For though we gained, and they the battle lost,  
Yet than thy brave victorious Father died.   

33.  
And I am stayed unwillingly behind;  
Not caught with wealth, Life's most intangling snare;  
Though both my Masters were in giving kind,  
As joyful Victors after Battle are.   

34.  
Whilst thus this aged Leader does express  
His and their Story whom this bounty feeds,  
His hands the Duke's worst ordered wounds undress  
And gently bind; then straight he thus proceeds.   

35.  
West from those Hills till you Cremona reach,  
With an unmingled right I gather rend;  
By their great Gift who did such precepts teach  
In giving, as their wealth is ne'er misspent.   

36.  
For as their plenteous pity fills my thought,  
So their example was not read in vain;  
A Thousand, who for them in battle fought,  
And now distressed with Maims, I entertain:   

37.  
Not giving like to those, whose gifts, though scant,  
Pain them, as if they gave with gouty hand;  
Such vex themselves, and ease not others want;  
But we alike enjoy, a like command.   

38.  
Most spaciously we dwell, where we possess  
All smless pleasure's Nature did ordain;  
And who that all may have, yet will have less,  
Wiser than Nature, thinks her kindness vain.   

39  
A sad resolve, which is a wiseman's vow,  
From City's noise, and Cou●●s unpityed care  
Did so divorce me, it would scarce allow  
I ere should take one League of dist●●● ai●.   

40.  
But that Alarms from each adjacent part  
Which borders my abode, disturbed my rest,  
With dreadful news that gracious Gondibert  
By Oswald's Faction was in fight oppressed.   

41.  
Then it had given your wonder cause to last,  
To see the vexed mistakes this summons wrought  
In all my Maimed Domestics by their haste,  
For some tie on the Limbs which others sought.   

42.  
Just such mistakes audacious Ethnics say  
Will happen where the Righteous busy are,  
Through glad and earnest haste in the last day;  
Whilst others slowly to their doom prepare.   

43.  
And this had Anger, anger noise had bred▪  
And Noise, the Enemy of useful Thought,  
Had them to more mistakes than blindness led▪  
But that our awful Camps had silence taught.   

44.  
Silence did Memory, Memory order make▪  
Order to each did his mist wood restore▪  
For some, who once were steadfast Foo●, mistake,  
And snatch those limbs which only Horsemen wore.   

45.  
Like swift Pursuers on Arabian Horse,  
These with their needful Instruments of hold  
(Which give their strange adapted weapons force)  
I mounted straight Five Hundred fully told.   

46.  
These from the Lombard's highly have deserved,  
In Conquests where thy Father did command;  
Whom they for Science and affection served,  
And lost their Limbs to gain our Sceptre Land.   

47.  
Which yet are noble, though unsightly signs,  
That each in active courage much abounds;  
And many a widowed Mother now repines,  
They cannot show the Men who gave those wounds.   

48.  
For dearly did the Huns for honour pay,  
When they deformed them in a fatal fight;  
Since though they strongly struggled for the day,  
Yet all they got, was everlasting Night.   

49.  
And Oswald's Friends, were they not timely gone  
(Though all the Faction in one Army were)  
Should mourn this act against their general's Son,  
Who was to Soldiers more than Triumph dear.   

50.  
For these to Conquest used, Retreats dislike;  
Thy beauty want, to others Beauty's cost,  
With envious rage still at the Face they strike,  
And punish Youth, for what in youth they lost.   

51.  
Thus, though the Duke's amazement be removed,  
It now returns, gladly on him to gaze,  
Who feeds those Fighters whom his Father loved;  
A gratitude would Virtue's self amaze.   

52.  
Thou art, said he, (then melted whilst he spoke)  
So ripe in what nice Heaven does dearly love,  
That heavens remorse for Earth we should mistake,  
To think it will forbear thee long above.   

53.  
As if thy scent for Soul already were  
Upon her Wings, so much I give thee gone;  
And wish thee left in some Successor here,  
That might receive the kindness thou hast shown.   

54.  
Old Ulfin now (but meltingly as he)  
T'enrich him, gives the Jewel of his sight;  
For straight, with Father's grave authority,  
He bids his son, young Ulfinor alight!   

55.  
Take him (said he) whose duty I release;  
In whom all heavens rewards included are,  
For all my Justice in corrupted peace,  
And for my mercy in revengeful war.   

56.  
The fruit heavens scent me by my loyal wife,  
In age, the gloomy Eve of endless night;  
Which eased in me the pain of latter life,  
And frustrates death, by fresh succession's sight.   

57  
The Duke with passion did this Youth embrace;  
Then lucky Goltho he called forth in view;  
Who was this day in fortune's special grace,  
For though no blood he lost, yet much he drew.   

58.  
Him he with Ulfinor does straight unite;  
Bids neither strive the other to precede,  
Unless when danger doth them both invite,  
But be, even in nice Rivalship agreed.   

59  
Bids both their Breasts be either's open book,  
Where nought is writ too hard for sudden Eyes;  
But ●ought's plain Text grows easy by a look:  
Study breeds doubt, where reading should suffice.   

60.  
But these to join Nature no Counsel needs;  
Whom Sympathy, her secret Priest, does wed;  
Much famed will be their loves, and Martial Deeds;  
Which fill all Books that are of Lombard's read.   

61.  
With gracious Eyes, and Body lo●ly bend,  
The Duke his Father's reverend Troops salutes;  
To Bergamo He holds his first intent;  
Which to oppose, old Ulfin thus disputes.   

62.  
Thou seest (my Prince) the faint decays of Light;  
How hastily the Sun's hot Steeds begin  
To mend their pace, as if their longing sight  
Had newly spied their usual Western Inn.   

63.  
Too far is pleasant Bergamo from hence,  
Since Day has reached so near his journey's end;  
Days strength and yours are at their last expense;  
Do not whilst both are wasting, both misspend.   

64.  
You and Your wounded must with Nature strive,  
Till all (whose few hours sway to day excels  
Their elder Foes long reign in Camps) arrive  
Where Astragon the wise and wealthy dwells.   

65.  
Rich is that Lord, and rich in learning's wealth;  
Art flies his test, he all Art's test endures;  
Our Cities send their sick to him for health,  
Our Camps the wounded for their certain cures.   

66.  
Though cautious Nature, checked by Destiny,  
Has many secrets she would ne'er impart;  
This famed Philosopher is Nature's Spy,  
And hireless gives th' intelligence to Art.   

67.  
The Duke with virtue (antiquated now)  
Did reverence Counsel, and to Age did bend;  
His first Course altars, and does this allow;  
Then Ulfin as their Guide they all attend.   

68  
Soon they the Palace reached of Astragon;  
Which had its beauty hid by envious Night,  
Whose Cypress Curtain drawn before the Sun,  
Seemed to perform the Obsequies of light.   

69.  
Yet Light's last rays were not entirely spent,  
For they discerned their passage through a Gate,  
Whose height and space showed ancient ornament,  
And Ancients there in careful Office sat.   

70.  
Who by their Weights and Measures did record  
Such numerous Burdens as were thither brought  
From distant Regions, to their learned Lord;  
On which his Chemics and Distillers wrought.   

71.  
But now their common business they refrain,  
When they observe a quiet fullenness  
And bloody marks in such a civil Train;  
Which showed at once their worth and their distress.   

72.  
The voice of ulfin they with gladness knew,  
Whom to this house long neighbourhood endeared  
Approaching Torches perfected their view,  
And taught the way till Astragon appeared.   

73.  
Who soon did Ulfin cheerfully embrace,  
The visits cause by whispers he received;  
Which first he hoped was meant him as a grace,  
But being known, with manly silence grieved.   

74.  
And then with gestures full of grave respect,  
The Duke he to his own apartment led;  
To each distinct retirements did direct,  
And all the wounded he ordained to Bed.   

75.  
Then thin digestive food he did provide,  
More to enable fleeting strength to stay;  
To wounds well searched he cleansing wines applied,  
And so prepared his ripening Balsams way.   

76.  
Balm of the warrior's herb, Hypericon!  
To warrior's as in use, in form decreed;  
For through the leaves transparent wounds are shown;  
And rudely touched, the Golden Flower does bleed.   

77.  
For sleep they juice of pale Nymphaea took,  
Which grows (to show that it for sleep is good)  
Near sleep's abode, in the soft murmuring Brook:  
This cools, the yellow Flower restrains the Blood:   

78.  
And now the weary world's great medicine, Sleep,  
This learned Host dispensed to every Guest;  
Which shuts those wounds where injured Lovers weep,  
And flies Oppressors to relieve th' Oppressed.   

79.  
It loves the Courage, and from Court abstains,  
It stills the Sea man though the Storm be high;  
Frees the grieved Captive in his closest Chains,  
Stops wants loud Mouth, & blinds the treacherous Spy!   

80.  
Kind Sleep, Night's welcome Officer, does cease  
All whom this House contains till day return;  
And me, Grief's Chronicler, does gently ease,  
Who have behind so great a ta●k to mourn.    
The end of the First Book.   

GONDIBERT. The Second Book.  

CANTO the First.  
The ARGUMENT.  

VERONA by the Poet's Pencil drawn;  
Where HURGONIL did meet the early dawn:  
Her wealth shown by each Dwellers early'r care;  
Which soon by others peace, she reaped by war.  
The slain, whose life her safety was and pride,  
Are now in death their Funeral Rites denied.   

1.  
SUnk near his Evening Region was the Sun,  
When Hurgonil with his lamented Load,  
And faithful Tybalt their sad march begun  
To Fair Verona, where the Court abode.   

2.  
They slowly road till Night's dominion ceased;  
When infant Morn (her scarce waked beams displayed)  
With a scant face peeps shylie through the East,  
And seemed as yet of the black world afraid.   

3.  
But by increase of swift expansive light,  
The lost Horizon was apparent grown,  
And many towers salute at once their sight;  
The distant boasts of an Imperial Town.   

4.  
Verona, spr●●g from ●oble Vera's 〈◊〉,  
Whom careless Time (still 〈◊〉 old Records  
Where they are loosely gathered up by ●ame)  
Proclaims the chief of ancient Tuscan Lords.   

5.  
Verona borders on that fatal Plain;  
Whose barren thirst was quenched with valiant blood,  
When the rough Cy●●brians by ●ierce Mari●● slain,  
Left Hills of Bodies where their Ensigns stood.   

6.  
So safely proud this Town did now appear,  
As if it but immortal Dwellers lacked;  
As if Theodorick had ne'er been there,  
Nor Attila her wealth and beauty sacked.   

7.  
Here Hurgonil might follow with his Eye  
(As with deep stream it through the City passed)▪  
The fruitful and the frighted Adice,  
Which thence from noise and nets to sea does haste.   

8.  
And on her peopled Bank they might behold  
The toils of conquest paid with works of pride;  
The Palace of King Agilulf the old,  
Or Monument, for ere 'twas built, he died.   

9  
To it that Temple joins, whose lofty Head  
The prospect of a swelling Hill commands;  
In whose cool womb the City springs are bred:  
On Dorique Pillars this tall Temple stands.   

10.  
This to soothe Heaven the bloody Clephes built,  
As if heavens King so soft and easy were,  
So meanly housed in Heaven, and kind to guilt,  
That he would be a Tyrant's Tenant here.   

11.  
And now they might arrest their wandering ●ight  
With that which makes all other Objects lost;  
Makes Lombard greatness ●●a● to 〈◊〉 height,  
And Modern Bvilder's bl●●●, that else would ●oast:   

12.  
An Amphy theatre which has controlled  
Unheeded conquests of advancing Age,  
Winds which have made the trembling world look old,  
And the uncivil Goths malicious rage.   

13.  
This great Flaminius did in youth erect,  
Where Cities sat to see whole Armies play  
Death's serious part: but this we may neglect  
To mark the business which begins with day.   

14.  
As Day now opening fills the Hemisphere,  
And all at once; so quickly every street  
Does by an instant opening full appear,  
When from their dwellings busy Dwellers meet.   

15.  
From wider Gates Oppressors sally there;  
Here creeps th'afflicted through a narrow Door;  
Groans under wrongs he has not strength to bear,  
Yet seeks for wealth to injure others more.   

16.  
And here the early Lawyer mends his pace,  
For whom the earlier Cliant wai●ed long;  
Here greedy Creditors their Debtors chase,  
Who scape by herding in th' indebted Throng.   

17.  
Th' adventurous Merchant, whom a Storm did wake,  
(His Ships on Adriatic Billows ●ost)  
Does hope of Eastern winds from Steeples take,  
And hastens there a Currier to the Coast.   

18.  
Here through a secret Postern issues out  
The scared adulterer, who outslept his time;  
Day, and the Husband's Spy alike does doubt,  
And with a half hid face would-hide his crime.   

19  
There from sick mirth neglectful Feasters ●eel;  
Who cares of want in wine's false L●the sleep.  
There anxious empty Gamesters homeward steal,  
And fear to wake, ere they begin to sleep.   

20.  
Here stooping labourers slowly moving are;  
Beasts to the Rich, whose strength grows rude with case;  
And would usurp, did not their Ruler's care,  
With toil and tax their furious strength appease.   

21.  
There th' Aged walk, whose needless carefulness  
Infects them past the Minds best medicine, sleep;  
There some to Temples early vows address,  
And for th'ore busy world most wisely weep.   

22.  
To this vast Inn, where Tides of strangers flow,  
The Morn and Hurgonil together came;  
The Morn, whose Dewy wings appeared but slow,  
When Men the motion marked of swifter Fame.   

23.  
For Fame (whose journeys are through ways unknown,  
Tr●celess and swift, and changing as the wind)  
The Morn and Hurgonil had much outgone,  
Whilst temperate Truth moved patiently behind.   

24▪  
For some the Combat (to a battle grown)  
Did apprehend in such prodigious shape,  
As if their living to the Dead were gone,  
And only Fame did by her Wings escape.   

25.  
Some said this Hunting falsely was designed,  
That by pretence both Factions might prepare  
Their Armies to contest for Rhodalind,  
The Crown's chief Jewel, and Reward of War.   

26.  
And some report (so far they range from Truth  
Who for intelligence must follow Fame)  
That then from Bergamo th'encamped Youth,  
With Gondibert, to this dire Hunting came.   

27.  
And some, that Oswald had enlarged his Train  
With the old Troops by his bold Father led;  
And that of these the nobler half were slain,  
The rest were to their Camp at Brescia fled.   

28.  
And as dire Thunder rolling o'er heavens vault,  
By murmur threatens, ere it kills aloud;  
So was this fatal news in whisper brought,  
Which menaced, ere it struck the listening Crowd.   

29.  
But Rumour soon to high extremes does move,  
For first it Oswald named with dreadful voice;  
Then said that Death had widowed Truth and Love,  
By making Gondibert the second choice.   

30.  
And to all hearts so dear was Gondibert,  
So much did Pity, Oswald's Valour prize,  
That straight their early business they desert,  
And fix on wounded Hurgonil their Eyes.   

31.  
Him when by perfect day they sadly knew,  
Through hidden wounds, whose blood his beauty stained,  
Even from the Temples, Angels soon withdrew,  
So sawcely th'afflicted there complained.   

32.  
The People strait united clamour gave,  
Shrieked loud like Seamen split on a strange Coast;  
As if those Powers were deaf who should them save,  
And Prayers no louder than the winds were lost.   

33.  
Now, with impatience urged, he does declare  
Whom he so mournfully in Funeral brought;  
The public losses of a private war,  
Who living, love, and valour, dying taught.   

34.  
For he does Hugo and Arnoldo name,  
To these (said he) Ver●ra Cradles gave,  
And since in foreign Fields they raised her Fame,  
They challenge here, though much too soon, a Grave.   

35.  
Bring sprinklings, Lamps, and th'Altar's precious breath;  
All Rites which Priests have prudently devised,  
Who gratefully a reverence teach to death;  
Because they most by dying men are prized.   

36.  
But though our loss we justly may complain,  
Though even by Priest's authority we grieve;  
Yet heavens first bounty, Life, let none disdain,  
Since Gondibert, our chief Delight, does live.   

37.  
Th●●eard, as Seamen near a Shore unknown,  
Who their North Guide lose in a Stormy night,  
His absence with distracted silence moan,  
And loudly welcome his return to sight:   

38.  
So when their great Conductor seemed to be  
Retired to endless shades amongst the slain,  
With silent grief they seemed as dead as he,  
But with new life welcomed his life again.   

39  
And now that cold remainder Valour left  
Of these whom Love had lost, and Fate forsook▪  
The Two that were of all but Fame berefr,  
From Hurgonil the weeping People took.   

40.  
Whilst of them both sad Hurgonil takes leave,  
Till th' universal meeting Faith provides;  
The Day when all shall publicly receive  
Those Bodies, Death does not destroy, but Hides▪   

41.  
Then to his Palace he retires by stealth,  
His wounds from his loved Mistress to conceal,  
On whose dear joys so much depends his health;  
The wounds her Tears should touch would never heal.   

42.  
To the chief Temple strait the People bear  
The valiant Rivals, who for love were slain;  
Whom all he peaceful Priests behold with fear,  
And grieved such Guests they durst not entertain.   

43.  
For soon the Prior of their Brotherhood  
(Who long served Heaven with praise, the world with prayer)  
Cried out, this holy House is shut to blood,  
To all that die in combat or despair.   

44.  
These by their bloody marks in Compar died,  
Through anger, the disease of Beasts untamed;  
Whose wrath is hunger, but in Men 'tis pride,  
Yet theirs is cruelty, ours courage named.   

45.  
Here the neglected Lord of peace does live;  
Who taught the wrangling world the rules of love,  
Should we his dwelling to the wrathful give,  
Our Sainted Dead would rise, and he remove.   

46.  
Well by his precepts may we punish strife,  
Whose pity knew that Famine, Plague, and Time,  
Are Enemies enough to humane life,  
None need o'ercharge Death's Quiver with a crime.   

47.  
To unfrequented Fields bear then your slain,  
Where neither Dirge nor Requiem shall be given;  
To those who by usurped Revenge disdain  
To take from Men, neglects they put on Heaven.   

48.  
But now the People's passions run too far;  
Their untaught love, artless extremes does wed;  
Of times they like the past, and since they are  
Oppressed still by the living, love the Dead:   

49.  
And now resolve these Rivals shall not lose  
The Rites of Sprinkling, Incense, Lights, and Song;  
Then as the voice of all their Minds, they choose  
An Orator, of rude, but ready Tongue:   

50.  
Who at the Temple Gate thus pleads aloud!  
We know, though Priests are Pensioners of Heaven,  
Your Flock which yields best rend, is this dull Crowd;  
The learned examine why their Fleece is given.   

51.  
Though by the Rich first shorn, to you they bear  
A second tribute, and by zeal support  
Temples which Kings for glory raise, and where  
The Rich for fame, the Learned as Spies resort.   

52.  
Temples are yours, not God's loved Palaces,  
Where Offerings make not his, but your own Feasts;  
Where you most wisely live, because at ease,  
And entertain your Founders as your Guests:   

53.  
With ease you take what we provide with care;  
And we (who your Legation must maintain)  
Find all your Tribe in the Commission are;  
And none but Heaven could send so large a Train.   

54.  
But being all Ambassadors from thence,  
The growing charge will soon exceed our rent,  
Unless you please to treat at his expense  
Who sent you; not at ours, where you are sent.   

55.  
The ancient Laws lived in the People's voice;  
Rites you from Custom, not from Canon draw;  
They are but fashions of a graver choice,  
Which yield to Laws, and now our voice is Law.   

56.  
This Tybalt heard with sorrow and disdain,  
(Who here with Hurgonil a Mourner came)  
And straight the peaceful Fathers strives to gain,  
And thus the People's Orator reclaim.   

57  
Most useful Fathers! some trace secret things  
Even to his Closet, who is hid in Heaven;  
Vainly as Nilus to his hidden springs,  
And not enjoy, but censure what is given.   

58.  
You with such temper their intemperance bear,  
To show your solid science does rely  
So on itself, as you no trial fear;  
For Arts are weak that are of Sceptics shy.   

59  
Though in your Office humane safety lies,  
Which opes that Hell the vicious vulgar fear,  
Yet never can the People Priesthood prize;  
As if from Heaven your daily errands were.   

60.  
Not that your message, Truth they disesteem,  
Or think it comes from any other way,  
But that they Taxes hate, and Truth does seem  
Brought as a Tax, when they the Bringers pay.   

61.  
Thus we to Beasts, fall from our noble kind,  
Making our Pastured Bodies all our care;  
Allowing no subsistence to the Mind,  
For Truth we grudge her as a costly fare.   

62.  
But if they fear (since daily you renew  
Disputes) your Oracles are doubtful still  
As those of old; yet more reward is due  
To pains, where so uneasy is the skill.   

63.  
Or if no skill they think it, but suppose  
'Tis Faith (& Faith ne'er thinks heavens height too high  
Yet Faiths so several be, that few are those  
Can choose right wings, when they to Heaven would fly.   

64.  
Or if they think, Faith humane help transcends,  
And to your Science is so strict a bound  
As Death to Valour is, where daring ends;  
And none are farthest in that Progress found;   

65.  
Yet in our walk to our last home designed,  
'Tis safe by all the studied Guides to go;  
Lest we in death, too late, the knowledge find  
Of what in life 'twas possible to know.   

66.  
Your Pomp, by which your Power in countenance dures,  
Though costly, costs much less than Camps or Laws;  
And more than both, Religion us secures;  
Since Hell (your Prison) more than dying awes.   

67.  
For though the plain Judge, Conscience, makes no show,  
But silently to her dark Session comes,  
Not as red Law does to arraignment go,  
Or War to Execution with loud Drums;   

68  
Though she on Hills sets not her Gibbets high,  
Where frightful Law sets hers; nor bloody seems  
Like War in Colours spread, yet secretly  
She does her work, and many a Man condemns.   

69.  
Chokes in the seed, what Law, till ripe, ne'er sees;  
What Law would punish, Conscience can prevent;  
And so the world from many Mischiefs ●●ees;  
Known by her Cures, as Law by punishment.   

70.  
The weaker sighted ever look too nigh;  
But their disputes have made your Charter good;  
As doubted Tenors, which long plead try,  
Authentic grow by being much withstood.   

71.  
These Chiefs, for whom we holy Rites desire,  
By well fought Fields begot this City's peace;  
Oft with their blood have quenched intestine fire;  
And oft our famines changed to glad excess.   

72.  
Their Rites let not the people be de●iy'd,  
Though by untutored kindness rudely fought;  
Nor think they have in private Combat died,  
Where Gondibert and mighty Oswald fought.   

73.  
Both Princes of the Lombard's royal blood;  
For whom full Thrice Three Hundred numbered are,  
Whose anger strove to make their anger good;  
Number gives strife th'authentic name of War.   

74.  
This said, Wars cause these Priests no more debate,  
They knew, War's Justice none could ere decide;  
At that more specious name they open straight,  
And sacred Rites of Funeral they provide.   

75.  
How vain is Custom, and how guilty Power?  
Slaughter is lawful made by the excess;  
Earth's partial Laws, just Heaven must needs abhor,  
Which greater crimes allow, and damn the less.    

CANTO the Second.  
The ARGUMENT.  

Fame's progress through Verona, when she brings  
Ill news enlarged, as her extended wings.  
The Combat's cause shakes ARIBERT'S great mind;  
And the effects more conquers RHODALIND.  
Meek ORNA'S fears, proud GARTHA'S bold disdain;  
And LAURA kindly dying for the Slain.   

1.  
To Streets (the People's Region) early Fame  
First brought this grief, which all more tragic make;  
And next, to the triumphant Court she came,  
Where prosperous Power sleeps long, though Suitors wake;   

2.  
But yet the early King (from Childhood bred  
To dangers, toils, and courser wants of war)  
Rose up to rule, and left soft Love in bed,  
Could conquer Lands and Love, but stooped to Care.   

3.  
Care, that in Cloisters only seals her Eyes,  
Which Youth thinks folly, Age as wisdom owns;  
Fools by not knowing her, out live the wise;  
She Visits Cities, but she dwells in Thrones.   

4.  
Care, which King Aribert with Conquest gained,  
And is more sure to him than Realms entailed;  
Waked him to know why Rumour thus complained,  
Or who in battle bled, or who prevailed?   

5.  
Young Hurgonil (who does his wounds conceal,  
Yet knew it did his duteous care import  
That some just witness should his cause reveal)  
Sent Tybalt to appease, and taste the Court.   

6.  
To that proud Palace which once low did lie  
In Parian Quarries, now on Columes stands:  
jonique Props that bear their Arches high,  
Which conquered treasure raised with Tuscan Hands.   

7.  
So vast of height, to which such space did fit  
As if it were o're-cyzed for Modern Men;  
The ancient Giants might inhabit it;  
And there walk free as winds that pass unseen,   

8.  
The Monarch's wealth this showed in all the parts;  
But the attendant Guards denote him wise;  
Who on the weather of his People's hearts,  
For a short Course, not voyages, relies.   

9  
Through many Guards (all watchful, calm, and bold)  
Tybalt did pass the first magnific Square;  
And through ascents does enter to behold,  
Where the State's Head and Eyes assembled are.   

10.  
There sa● the King, on whose consid'rate Brow  
Sixty experienced Summers he discerned,  
Which made him ripe, and all of Conduct know  
That from success is owned, from losses learned.   

11.  
Near him the Empire's strict Surveyors sat;  
whose universal fight no object lose;  
Who see not crimes too soon, nor worth too late;  
Find dangers seed, and choke it ere it grows.   

12.  
He wealth nor birth preferred to Counsels place;  
For Counsel is for use, not ornament;  
Souls are alike, of rich and ancient Race;  
Though Bodies claim distinctions by descent.   

13.  
Here boiling Youth, nor frozen Age can sit:  
It would in Subjects scorn of ruling Breed,  
If that great work should such small aids admit,  
And make them hope that they no rulers need.   

14.  
Nature too oft by birthright does prefer  
Less perfect Monarches to a busy Throne;  
Yet more than her, Courts by weak Counc'lers err,  
In adding Ciphers where she made but one.   

15.  
To this wise King, sage Tybalt did relate  
The Combats cause, with truth's severe extent;  
Reveals that fire which kindled Oswald's hate:  
For which such precious valour was misspent.   

16.  
Gives Gondibert a just record of praise;  
First how unwilling, then how bold in fight;  
And crowns the Conquered with the Victor's Bayss,  
When Manhood bids him do their valour right:   

17.  
At last recounts the wounded and the slain;  
And how Prince Hubert and the Duke retired;  
From nothing brave or great he did refrain,  
But his own deeds, which doing were admired.   

18.  
This Arribert with outward patience hears,  
Though wounded by the cause for which they fought;  
With moderate joy the death of Oswald bears;  
Yet justly to extremes it inward wrought.   

19  
Tybalt he now with peaceful looks discharged;  
And than his thoughts (imprisoned in his breast)  
He strait by liberty of Tongue enlarged;  
Which thus unto his Council he addressed.   

20.  
With what a difference Nature's palate tastes  
The sweetest draught which Art provides her, Power:  
Since Power, Pride's Wine, but high in relish last  
Whilst fuming new, for Time does turn it sour?   

21.  
Yet Power, Earth's tempting Fruit, Heaven first did plant  
From Man's first Serpent safe, Ambition's reach;  
Else Eden could not serve Ambition's want;  
Whom no command can rule, nor precept teach.   

22.  
Power is that luscious wine, which does the bold,  
The wise, and noble most Intoxicate;  
Adds time to Youth, and takes it from the Old;  
Yet I by surfeit this Elixir hate.   

23.  
I curse those Wars that make my glory last;  
For which the Tuscan Widows curse me more;  
T●e barren Fields where I in Arms did fast,  
That I might furfeit on juxurious power.   

24.  
Thou Hermegild, who art for valour Crowned,  
For honour trusted, and for wisdom heard;  
And you whom Counsel has no less renowned,  
Observe how virtue against peace has erred.   

25.  
Still I have fought, as if in Beauty's sight,  
Out-suffered patience, bred in Captives Breasts;  
Taught fasts, till Bodies like our Souls grew light;  
Outwatched the jealous, and out-laboured Beas●●.   

26.  
These were my merits, my reward is Power;  
An outward Trifle, bought with inward peace;  
Got in an Age, and rifled in an hour;  
When feverish love, the People's Fit, shall cease.   

27.  
For did not Power on their frail love depend,  
Prince Oswald had not treated with that love;  
Whose glory did in hasty darkness end;  
A spark which vanished, as it upward striven.   

28.  
By scorn of dangers and of ease, he sought▪  
The Lombard's hearts, my Rhodalind, and Crown;  
And much his youth had by his practice wrought,  
Had Gondibert not levelled his renown:   

29.  
Had Gondibert not stayed the People's Eyes  
(Whose virtue stepped 'twixt Oswald and their sight)  
Who knows but Rhodalind had been his Prize,  
Or war must have secured Paternal right.   

30.  
Sad and uneasy is a long-kept Throne;  
Not that the People think long power unjust,  
But that for change, they wish best Monarches gone;  
Fond change, the People's soon repent lust!   

31.  
I did advance (though with some jealous pain)  
A forward virtue to my subjects love;  
Lest one less temp'rat should their favour gain;  
Whom their unstudied choice would more approve.   

32.  
To thee sage Hermegild myself I leave,  
My fame and power: Thee action cannot waste;  
Caution retard, nor promptitude deceive;  
Slowness belate, nor Hope drive on too fast.   

33.  
Think Hubert Heir to Oswald's bold pretence;  
To whom the Camp at Brescia is inclined;  
The Duke at Bergamo will seek defence;  
And these are seeds of war for Rhodalind.   

34.  
This said, his Council he dismissed, who spied  
A growing rage, which he would fain conceal;  
They durst but nicely search, what he would hide,  
Lest they inflame the wound that else might heal.   

35.  
They haste to several Cares, some to allay  
Court's hectic Fever, Faction (which does reign  
Where Luxury, the Sire of Want, does sway)  
Some to appease th'Alliance of the slain.   

36.  
But Order now bids us again pursue  
Th' unwearyed Motion of unhappy Fame;  
From Fields to Streets, from Streets to Court she flew;  
Where first she to the King's Apartment came.   

37.  
Thence through the Palace she her wings did air;  
And as her Wings, her Tongue too never ceased;  
Like restless Swallows in an Evening fair:  
At last does on a peaceful dwelling rest.   

38.  
Where Sleep does yet that gentle Sex possess,  
Who ne'er should more of Care's rude wake know,  
But what may help sad Lovers to success;  
Or imp Loves wings when Hymen thinks them slow.   

39  
There Lovers seek the Royal Rhodalind;  
Whose secret breast was sick for Gondibert;  
And Orna, who had more in public pined  
For Hurgonil, the Monarch of her heart.   

40.  
And there the kill Laura did reside;  
See, of whose Eyes the Lombard Youth Complain;  
Yet often she for noble Arnold died;  
And knew not now her Murderer was slain.   

41.  
Nor Hugo, who was all with love endued;  
Whom still with tears the Lombard Ladies name;  
Esteeming Modern Lovers false, and rude,  
And Poets falser when they sing their fame.   

42.  
These Beauties (who could soften Tyrant Kings)  
Sleep now concealed within there Curtains shade;  
Till rudely Fame, by shaking loud her wings  
Disturbed their Eyes, and their waked hearts dismayed.   

43.  
They heard in parcels by imperfect sound,  
A tale too dismal to be understood;  
That all their Lovers lay in hallowed ground;  
Temples their Bodies hid, the Fields their blood.   

44.  
That this dire Morn to sad Verona brought  
The Duke and Oswald, of loved life deprived;  
And that of all who their fierce battle fought,  
Only the mangled Hurgonil survived.   

45.  
This Tale, Fam's course, officious Friends conveyed,  
(Which are attendant Slaves, and Palace Grooms)  
Who by the Lover of some busy Maid,  
From outward Courts sent it to inward Rooms.   

46.  
Such horror brought, where love had only used,  
Did yet breed more amazement than belief;  
Whilst Orna now, and Laura fly confused  
To R●odalind, Truth's Altar, for relief.   

47.  
There with disordered voices they compare,  
And then derive what each has loosely learned;  
Each hope applies, where others most despair;  
As doubting all but where she concerned.   

48.  
This weeping conference had not lasted long,  
When Tybalt, free from Aribert's commands,  
Scapes the assembling Court's enquiring Throng,  
And enters here; where first he doubtful stands.   

49.  
For Pity, when he ruin'd Laura spied.  
Bids his discretion artfully complain;  
And show far off, what Truth not long can hide:  
Death at a distance seen, may ease fears pain.   

50.  
Their business now he can no more forbear;  
For who on their urged patience can prevail,  
Whose expectation is provoked with fear?  
He therefore thus their patience did assail.   

51.  
Kind Heaven that gave you virtue, give you peace;  
Delightful as your Beauties be your Minds;  
Still may your Lovers your renown increase,  
Though he who honour seeks, first danger finds!   

52  
Still may your beauty bear that ancient rate,  
Which beauty was chaste Honour's Merchandise;  
When Valour was chief Factor in Love's State;  
Danger, Love's stamp, and beauty's currant price.   

53.  
Renowned be Oswald, who in high belief  
Of Rhodalind, her love with danger sought;  
In Love's Records be Gondibert the chief,  
Who for her right, not for his own has sought.   

54.  
Though these for mighty minds deserve Fame's voice;  
Yet Orna needs must boast of Hurgonil;  
Whose dangers well have justified her choice,  
And might alone Fame's public Trumpet fill.   

55.  
Enlarged be Honour's Throne, that Arnold there  
And Hugo may for ever sit and rest,  
Free from their valour's toils, and Laura's fear;  
Which more than wounds disordered either's Breast.   

56.  
This said, he pawsed; finds each distrusts his art;  
For Hope and Doubt came and returned apace,  
In changed Complexion from th'uncertain heart,  
Like frighted Scowts for Tidings to the Face.   

57  
His Eye seemed most employed on Rhodalind;  
Whose love above her bashful caution sways;  
For naming Gondibert, he soon did find,  
Her secret Soul showed pleasure at his praise.   

58.  
Yet when she found her comforts did not last,  
And that as Oracles, the future taught  
He hid Truth's Face, and darkened what was passed;  
Thus Truth through all her mourning Vails she sought.   

59  
Why in these Ladies do you lengthen pain,  
By giving them Grief's common medicine, Doubt?  
Ease those with death, whose Lovers now are slain;  
Life's fire a Fever is, when Love's is out.   

60.  
Yet think not that my cares peculiar are;  
Perhaps I from religious pity learned,  
In Virtue's public loss to take some share;  
For there, all but the vicious are concerned.   

61.  
Your Prudence, Royal Maid (he strait replies)  
More than your birth, may claim the Lombard's Crown;  
whoever in conquest of your favour dies;  
For life's lost Inch, shall find a long renown.   

62.  
Then happy Oswald who is sure to gain,  
Even by Ambition that undoes the wise;  
Great was th'attempt for which he's nobly slain;  
And gets him praise, though he has missed the Prize.   

63.  
But happier Gondibert, who does survive  
To beg your Mercy, that he thus hath dared  
To own that cause, for which the world might strive;  
And conquering, takes his wounds for his reward.   

64.  
Be Hurgonil long distant from his Grave,  
Whose life was so important in this cause;  
Who for each wound he took, a wider gave,  
And livest ' enjoy the pleasure of applause.   

65.  
To say, how Hugo and Lord Arnold strove  
For victory, and mention their event,  
Were to provide such funeral rites for Love,  
As Death would be closely Mourner, and repent.   

66.  
Now Laura's blood back to her liure fled;  
True beauty's Mint: For by her Heart L●ve's Throne,  
beauty's called in, like Coin, when Kings are dead  
As if not currant, now her Lover's gone.   

67.  
And like her beauty, she had darkened life▪  
But that with sprinkled water they restore▪  
(By sudden cold, with sudden heat a●strife)  
Her spirits to those walks they used before.   

68  
She Arnold calls, than lost that ●●●e again,  
Which Rhodalind, and Orna's tears ●e●one,  
Who busily would her spent strength sustain,  
Though Hope has scarcely yet brought back their own.   

69.  
Now they her Temples chafed, and strait prepare  
Hot Eastern Fumes to reach her Brains cooled sense▪  
With Wine's ●●erce spirits these extracted are,  
Which warm but slowly, though of swift expense.   

70.  
Yet now again she breathed Lord Arnold's name,  
Which her apt Tongue through custom best expressed;  
Then to stay Life, that so unwilling came,  
With Cordial Epithems they bathed her breast.   

71.  
Th' attendant Maids, by Tyhalt's ready aid,  
To stop her Mourners tears, convey her now  
Where she may ease in her own Curtain's shade  
Her weary heart, and grief more Tongue allow.   

72.  
No sooner was this pitied Laura gone,  
But Oswald's sister, Gartha the renowned▪  
Enters, as if the world were overthrown,  
Or in the tears of the afflicted drowned.   

73.  
Unconquered as her beauty was her mind;  
Which wanted not a spark of Oswald's fire▪  
Ambition loved, but ne'er to Love was kind▪  
Vexed Thrones did more than quiet shades desire.   

74.  
Her Garments now in loose neglect she wore,  
As sured to her wild dis-shevelled hair;  
Men in her shape might Nature's work adore,  
Yet ask, why Art's nice dress was absent there?   

75.  
But soon they found what made this change appear;  
For meeting Truth, which slowly follows Fame,  
Rage would not give her leisure for a Tear  
To quench (ere he thus spoke) her passions flame.   

76.  
Blasted be all your beauties Rhodalind,  
Till you a shame, and terror be to light;  
Unwinged be Love, and slow as he is blind,  
Who with your Looks poisoned my Brother's sight!   

77.  
Low and neglected be your Father's Throne,  
Which like your beauty, Oswald did ore-rate;  
Let luckless war take Lands from his light Crown,  
Till those high cares he want that give it weight!   

78.  
Let Powers consumption be his long disease,  
(heavens vexing curb, which makes wild Monarch's ●am)  
And be he forced in froward age to please  
His Favour's Monster, who devours his Fame.   

79.  
May you soon feel (though secret in your love,  
As if your love were Sin) the public scorn!  
May Gondibert, who is your glory, move  
Your pity, when none else but you shall mourn!   

80.  
To the dark Inn (where weary Valour, free  
From thankless dangers rests) brave Oswald's gone!  
But Hubert may, though vanquished, live to see  
Your Victor with his victory undone!   

81.  
This said, she mounts (with a tempestuous Brow)  
The Chariot her Portuguese Coursers drew;  
Lifted by Slaves (who still about her bow)  
As if with wings of swift Revenge she flew.   

82.  
To Brescia's Camp her course she had designed;  
And bids her Tuscan Charioteer drive on,  
As if his Steeds were dieted with wind!  
Slow seems their speed whose thoughts before them 〈◊〉   

83.  
The paved Streets kindle with her Chariot wheels!  
The Omen of wars fire the City spies,  
Which with those sparks struck by her Courser's heels,  
Shine not so much as rage does in her Eyes.   

84.  
Those that observed her anger, grief, and haste,  
With ancient Roman melancholy mourn;  
She seemed their City's Genius as she passed,  
Who by their Sins expelled, would ne'er return.   

85.  
The gentle Ladies, she has left in tears,  
Who no example need, nor cause to melt;  
For soon even grief's Alarms, our foremost tears,  
Kill those whose pain by Love's quick sense is felt.   

86.  
And Rhodalind her fatal love does blame,  
Because she finds it now by Gartha spied;  
And does lament Love's fire, which bashful shame  
Cannotreveal, nor her discretion hide.   

87.  
She would not have it waste, nor public grow,  
But last concealed like that in Tullia's Urn;  
Or that which prosperous Chemists nicely show;  
Which as it thrives, must more in private bourn.   

88  
Yet strait (grown valiant with her Victor's fate)  
She would have Hymen hold his Torches high;  
And Love's fire prized, as Vestals theirs did rate;  
Which none durst quench, though free to every eye.   

89.  
Resolves her love whilst this new valour lasts,  
Shall undisguised her Father's sight endure;  
And Orna now to her dear Lover hastes;  
Whose outward wounds stay for her inward cure.   

90.  
But here a wonder may arrest our thought,  
Why Tybalt (of his usual pity void)  
To such sost Ears these direful sorrows brought,  
Since to the King he only was employed?   

91.  
But these are Riddles of mysterious Love!  
Tybalt in private long for Laura pined;  
And tried how Arnold would her passion move  
In death, who living ever filled her mind?   

92.  
And by this trial how she Arnold used,  
He gravely meant to urge or stay his heart;  
But much by Love the Cautions are abused,  
Who his wild Riddles would reduce to Art.    

CANTO the Third.  
The ARGUMENT.  

Dead OSWALD to his Camp by HUBERT brought;  
The Camp from pity, are to fury wrought;  
Yet find, when GARTHA's looks does them surprise,  
Their forward Hands diverted by their Eyes:  
Till with her voice new urged, they deeds pursue  
Which ever Revenge would, had it Eyes, eschew.   

1.  
WHen from the fatal Forest Hubert road,  
To Brescia he and Borgie bent their way;  
That their, though dead, yet much important Load,  
They might with horror to the Camp convey.   

2.  
Revenge, impatient Hubert proudly sought▪  
Revenge, which even when just the wise deride;  
For on past wrongs we spend our time and thought,  
Which scarce against the future can provide.   

3.  
But Fame before him came, where those are b●ed  
Who to her dismal Tales, faint credig give;  
Who could not think their mighty Oswald dead,  
Whilst they unconquered and unwounded live▪   

4.  
Nor could Fame hope to make this Camp her Seat;  
Her Tales, the talking, idle, fearful, hear;  
But these are silent as in sto●n retreat,  
Busy as life, and like the Dead, past fear.   

5.  
Near Mela's flowery Bank this Army lay,  
Which Oswald's Sire, and Oswald oft had led  
Against the Vandals King; and twice the Day  
They gained, whilst he from them and Empire fled.   

6.  
From Youth exposed, like 〈◊〉 in the Field;  
And not taught war ●●th, as City Infants are;  
But colds and ●asts, to kill or to be killed;  
Like th'Elements their birth began with war.   

7.  
So reverend now, and strong in age appear,  
As if maintained by more than humane breath;  
So grave, as if the Counsellors they were▪  
Not Executioners of Tyrant Death.   

8.  
With silence (order help, and mark of ca●●)  
They chid that noise which ●eedless youth effect;  
Still course for use, for health they cleanty were,  
And save in well fixed Arms, all niceness checked.   

9  
They thought, those that unarmed exposed fyall life;  
But naked Nature valiantly betrayed;  
Who was, though naked, safe, till pride made strife;  
But made defence must use, now dangers made.   

10.  
And those who toil of Armour cannot bide,  
Lose Nature's force, which these in custom find;  
And make (since strength's but Nature hou●ly tried)  
The Body weak by softness of the Mind.   

11.  
They seemed so calm, and with their age so grave,  
So just and civil in their kill trade,  
As if all life were crime but what they save;  
Or Murder were by method lawful made.   

12.  
Yet now that Manhood which those Victors makes  
(So weak is Man, where most he may be proud)  
Pity, the tenderest of affections, shakes,  
And they become from order, loose, and loud.   

13.  
For when they saw the Brother of their Chief  
Led to their Camp by a defeated Train,  
They soon, too late scorned Rumour, gave belief,  
And then by Hubert's wounds thought Oswald slain.   

14.  
But when disguised in death they Oswald saw,  
In a slow Chariot brought, with funeral pace;  
Themselves in an united Crowd they draw;  
And give all grief one universal Face.   

15.  
Wonder (which grows unactive by excess)  
A while did their unruly passion stay;  
The object lasting made their wonder less,  
Which fled to give their grief and anger way.   

16.  
Yet first their grief (which Manhood should restrain)  
They vent in women's sighs, with tears allayed;  
As if those women taught them to complain  
Who by their Swords are weeping widows made.   

17.  
As Icy Rocks which frosts together bind,  
Stand silent, till as silently they melt,  
But when they meet in Currents unconfined,  
Swell, and grow loud, as if they freedom felt;   

18.  
So these, unmoved before, melt quietly  
In their first grief, till grief (when tears meet tears,  
And sighs meet sighs from every Breast and Eye)  
Unruly grows, and danger's visage bears.   

19  
When hastily they heard by whose dire hand  
Their Gen'ral fell, they think it cold to pause  
Till anger may be guided by command;  
And vain to ask of cureless Death the cause.   

20.  
Some would to Bergamo their Ensigns bear,  
Against those Youth which Gondibert had led;  
Whom they in sacrifice would offer there,  
T'appease the living, and revenge the dead.   

21.  
And some (to show their rage more eminent ( 
Would to Verona march, and there do deeds  
Should make the shining Court in blacks lament,  
And weep, whilst the Victorious Faction bleeds.   

22.  
Hubert (who saw Revenge advance so fast,  
Whilst Prudence, ●lower paced was left behind)  
Would keep their anger bend, yet slack their haste;  
Because the rash fall oftener than the blind.   

23.  
He first their melting Pity kindly praised,  
Which watered Anger's forge, and urged their fire;  
That like to Meteors lasts by being raised,  
But when it first does sink, does straight expire.   

24  
Commends their anger, yet that flame he prays  
May keep the temperate Chemics equal heat;  
That they in furie might not need allays,  
Nor charge so rashly as to want retreat.   

25.  
Begs they this dismal night would there remain,  
And make the hopeful Morn their Guide; whilst Grief  
(Which high Revenge, as tameness should disdain)  
Sleep shall conceal, and give his wounds relief.   

26  
He Vasco, Paradine, and Dargonet,  
With Oswald, to the red Pavilion sent;  
(Death's equal Prisoners now for Nature's debt)  
And then retires with Borgio to his scent.   

27  
This is the night the Brescians so bemoaned;  
Who left their beds, and on then walls appeared;  
As if th'oppressed World in Earthquakes groaned,  
Or that some ruin'd Nation's fight they heard;   

28.  
Admired what in that Damp such griefs could raise,  
Where serious Death so oft had been abused,  
When even their sportive Fencers Monthly Plays  
Profaned that shape, which States for terror used.   

29  
Yet this loud mourning will no wonder breed,  
When we with life lay Oswald's errors by,  
And use him as the Living use the Dead;  
Who first allow men virtue when they die.   

30.  
Still liberal of his life, of wealth as free;  
By which he chief in fight Crowds became;  
Who must their Leaders Va●ors often see;  
And follow them for bounty more than fame.   

31.  
This gen'ral mourning was to loudness raised,  
By showing Gifts he gave, and wounds he took;  
They chid at last his life which they had praised,  
Because such virtue it so soon forsaken.   

32.  
Now Night, by Grief neglected, hastes away!  
And they the Morn's officious Usher spy,  
The closely Attendant on the Lord of Day;  
Who shows the warmer of the World is nigh.   

33  
And now the Drums, the Camps low Thunder, make  
War's thick united noise from every Guard;  
Though they Reveillees scorn, whom grief does wake,  
And sleep, think Nature's curse, not toils reward.   

44.  
All night proud Borgio (chief in Hubert's trust)  
With haughty hopes, the Camp does waking keep:  
Ambition is more vigilant than Lust,  
And in hope's fever is too hot to sleep.   

45.  
Now Day, and Hubert haste to public view;  
His wounds (unlucky more than dangerous)  
Are so refreshed, that he the Army drew  
To a wide gross, and urged their Anger thus.   

46.  
Friends to my Father! In whose wounds I see  
They envied Merit whence his triumphs came;  
And Fathers to my Brother, and to me;  
For only you adopted us to Fame!   

47.  
Forgive me that I there have feebly ●ought,  
Where Oswald in your cause did nobly strive;  
Whence of his blood these veins so much have brought,  
As makes me blush that I am still alive!   

48.  
Gone is your fight Youth, whom you have bred  
From milky Childhood to the years of blood!  
By whom you joyed so often to be led,  
Where firm, as now your Trophies, than you stood!   

49.  
Gon is he now, who still with low regard  
Bowed to your age, your wounds as beauty kissed;  
Knew Age was of your temperance the reward;  
And Courts in beauty by your scars subsist.   

50.  
Yet was he not for mean pretensions slain,  
Who for your interest, not his own has fought;  
Vexed that the Empire which your wounds did gain,  
Was by a young unwounded Army sought!   

41.  
For Gondibert (to whom the Court must bow,  
Now War is with your Favourite overthrown)  
Will by his Camp of Boys at Bergamo,  
Wed her, who to your Valour owes the Crown.   

42.  
Blame not your Chief for his ambitious fire;  
Who was but temperate, when he understood  
He might the Empire in your right require;  
The scant reward of your exhausted blood.   

43.  
Thus Hubert spoke, but now so fierce they grow,  
That Borgio strove to quench whom Hubert warmed;  
To Bergamo, they cried, to Bergamo!  
And as they soon were vexed, as soon are armed.   

44.  
For to distinct and spations Tents they high,  
Where quick as Vests of Persia shifted are,  
Their Arms (which there in cleanly order lie)  
They take from moving Wardrobes of the War.   

45.  
Armed soon as Porquipins! as if like those,  
Their very rage them with defence supplies;  
As born with it, and must have winged Foes  
That stoop from Heaven to harm them by surprise.   

46.  
With Ensigns now displayed, there Force they draw  
To hasty order, and begin to move;  
But are amused by something that they saw,  
Which looked like all that ere they heard of Love.   

47.  
Unusual to their Camp such objects were,  
Yet this no ill effect from wonder wrought;  
For it appeased them by approaching near,  
And satisfied their Eyes in all they sought.   

48.  
And this was Gartha in her Chari'ot drawn;  
Who through the swarthy Region of the Night  
Drove from the Court; and as a second dawn  
Breaks on them like the Morn's Reserve of Light.   

49.  
Through all the Camp she moves with Funeral pace,  
And still bows meekly down to all she saw;  
Her grief gave speaking beauty to her Face,  
Which lowly looked, that it might pity draw.   

50.  
When by her Slaves her name they understood,  
Her Lines of feature heedfully they view,  
In her complexion tract their general's blood,  
And find her more than what by fame they knew.   

51.  
They humbly her to that Pavilion guide,  
Where Hubert his bold Chiefs with fury fired;  
But his ambition, when he Gartha spied  
(To give his sorrow place) a while retired.   

52.  
With his respectful help she does descend;  
Where they, with dear embraces mingle Tears,  
But now her Male Revenge would grief suspend;  
Revenge, through Grief, too feminine appears.   

53.  
But when her dear Allies, dead Paradine,  
And Dargonet she saw: that Manliness  
Which her weak Sex assumed, she does decline;  
As bred too soft, to manage griefs excess.   

54.  
Then soon returned, as loath to show her Eyes  
No more of Oswald than she must forsake;  
But sorrow's moisture heat of anger dries;  
And mounted in her Chariot, thus she spoke:   

55.  
If you are those of whom I oft have heard  
My Father boast, and that have Oswald bred;  
Ah, where is now that rage our Tyrant feared;  
Whose Darling is alive, though yours be dead?   

56.  
The Court shines out at Rhodalind's commands,  
To me (your drooping Flower) no beam can spare;  
Where Oswald's name new planted by your hands,  
Withers, as if it lost the planters' care.   

57  
From Rhodalind I thus disordered fly;  
Lest she should say, thy Fate unpityed comes!  
Go sing, where now thy Father's Fighters lie,  
Thy Brother's Requiem, to their conquering Drums!   

58.  
The happy Fields by those grave Warriors fought,  
(Which from the Dictates of thy aged Sire,  
Oswald in high Victorious Numbers wrote)  
Thou shalt no more sing to thy silenced Lyre!   

59  
Such scorns, power on unlucky virtue throws,  
When Courts with prosperous vices wanton are;  
Who your Authentic age despise for those,  
Who are to you but Infants of the war.   

60.  
Thus though she spoke, her looks did more persuade;  
Like virtuous anger did her colour rise,  
As if th' injurious world it would invade,  
Whilst tears of rage not pity drown her Eyes.   

61.  
The sun did thus to threatened Nature show  
His anger red, whilst guilt looked pale in all;  
When Clouds of Floods did hang about his Brow,  
And then shrunk back to let that anger fall.   

62.  
And so she turned her Face, not as to grieve  
At ruin, but to licence what she raised;  
Whilst they (like common Throngs) all Tongues believe  
When Courts are taxed, but none when they are praised.   

63.  
Like Comets, Courts afflict the Vulgar Eye;  
And when they largest in their glory blaze,  
People through ignorance think plague's are nigh,  
And till they waste with mourning wonder gaze.   

64.  
These scorn the Courts dissertion for their age;  
The Active, ease imposed, like pain endure▪  
For though calm rest does Ages pains assuage,  
Yet few the sickness own to get the cure.   

65.  
To Heaven they lift their looks! whose Sun ne'er saw  
Rage so agreed, as now he does behold;  
Their shining swords all at an instant draw,  
And bade him judge next day if they were old!   

66.  
And of Verona wished him take his leave;  
Which ere his third return they will destroy,  
Till none shall guests by ruins where to grieve,  
No more than Phrygians where to weep for Troy.   

67.  
Thus Bergamo is soon forgot, whilst all  
Aloud, Verona cry! Verona must  
(That reached the Clouds) low as her Quaries fall!  
They Court they'll bury in the City's dust.    

CANTO the Fourth.  
The ARGUMENT.  

At OSWALD'S Camp arrives wise HER MEGILD,  
Whose presence does a new diversion yield;  
In Council he reveals his secret Breast▪  
Would mingle Love with Empire's interest:  
From rash revenge, 〈◊〉 ●●●c● the Camp invites,  
Who▪ OSWALD'S Funeral grace with Roman Rites.   

1.  
IN this distemper whilst the humours strive  
T' assemble, they again diverted are;  
For towards their Trenches Twenty Chariots drive,  
Swiftly as Syrians when they charge in war.   

2.  
They Hermegild with Court attendants spied;  
Whose haste to Hubert does advice intend;  
To warn him that just Fate can ne'er provide  
For rash beginnings a successful end.   

3.  
But fate for Hermegild provided well;  
This Story else (which him the wise does call)  
Would here his private ruin sadly tell,  
In hastening to prevent the public Fall.   

4.  
His noble blood obscurely had been shed,  
His undistinguished Limbs torn and unknown,  
As is the dust of Victor's long since dead,  
Which March in April's watery Eyes has blown.   

5.  
Such was their rage when on Verona's way  
(With his rich Train) they saw from Court he came;  
Till some did their impetuous fury stay;  
And gave his life protection for his fame,   

6.  
Told them his Valour had been long allowed,  
That much the Lombard's to his conduct owe;  
And this preserved him, for the very Crowd  
Felt Honour here, and did to valour bow.   

7.  
Vain Wrath! Deformed, unquiet Child of Pride!  
Which in a few the People madness call;  
But when by Number they grew dignifyed,  
What's rage in one, is liberty in all.   

8.  
Through dangers of this lawless liberty,  
He like authentic Power does boldly pass;  
And with a quiet and experienced Eye,  
Through Death's foul Vizard, does despise his face.   

9  
At Hubert's Tent alights, where Hubert now  
With Gartha of this Torrent does advise;  
Which he believes does at the highest flow,  
And must like Tides, sink when it cannot rise.   

10.  
When Hermegild he saw, he did disperse  
Those cares assembled in his looks, and strove  
(Though to his Master, and the Court perverse)  
To show him all the civil signs of Love.   

11.  
For him in stormy war he glorious knew;  
Nor in calm Counsels was he less renowned;  
And held him now to Oswald's Faction true,  
As by his love, the world's first Tenure, bound.   

12.  
For he (though wasted in the ebb of blood,  
When Man's Meridian towards his Evening turns)  
Makes against Nature's Law, love's Charter good,  
And as in raging Youth for Gartha burns.   

13.  
Who did his suit not only disapprove,  
Because the summer of his life was past▪  
And she fresh blown; but that even highest love  
Grows tasteless to Ambition's higher taste.   

14.  
Yet now in such a great and single cause,  
With nice Ambition, nicer Loves complies;  
And she (since to revenge he useful was)  
Persuades his hope with empiric of her Eyes.   

15.  
A closely division of the Tent they strait  
By outward Guards secure from all resort;  
Then Hermegild does thus the cause relate,  
Which to the Camp dispatched him from the Court.   

16.  
Important Prince! who justly dost succeed  
To Oswald's hopes, and all my loyal aid;  
Virtue as much in all thy wounds does bleed,  
As love in me, since wounded by that Maid.   

17.  
Long have I sailed through Times vexatious sea;  
And first set out with all that Youth is worth;  
The Tropics passed of bloods hot bravery,  
With all the Sails, gay Flags, and Streamers forth!   

18.  
But as in hotter voyages, Ships most  
Decay their trim, yet than they chiefly gain  
By inward stowage, what is outward lost;  
So Men, decays of youth, repair in brain.   

19  
If I experience boast when youth decays,  
Such vanity may Gartha's pity move,  
Since so I seek your service by self-praise,  
Rather than seem unuseful where I love.   

20.  
And never will I (though by Time supplied  
With such discretion as does Man improve)  
To show discretion, wiser Nature hide,  
By seeming now ashamed to say I love.   

21.  
For Love his power has in grey Senates shown,  
Where he, as to green Courts, does freely come▪  
And though loud youth, his visits makes more known,  
With graver Age he's poivately at home.   

22.  
Scarce Oreece, or greater Rome a Victor shows,  
Whom more victorious Love did not subdue;  
Then blame not me who am so weak to those;  
Whilst Gartha all exceeds, that ere they knew.   

23.  
Hope (Love's first food) I ne'er till now did know;  
Which Love, as yet but temp'rately devours,  
And claims not love for love, since Gartha so  
For Autumn Leaves, should barter Summer Flowers.   

24.  
I dare not vainly wish her to be kind,  
Till for her love, my Ar●s and Power bestow  
The Crown on thee, adorned with Rhodalind;  
Which yet for Gartha is a price too low.   

25.  
This said, he pawsed; and now the hectic heat  
Of Oswald's blood, doubled their Pul●es pace;  
Which high, as if they would be heard, did beat,  
And hot Ambition shined in either's face.   

26.  
For Hermegild they knew could much outdo  
His words, and did possess great Aribert,  
Not in the Courts cheap Glass of civil show,  
But by a studied Tenure of the heart.   

27.  
Whilst this tried truth does make their wishes sure,  
Hubert on Gartha looks, with suing Eyes  
For Hermegild, whose love she will endure,  
And make Ambition yield what Youth denies.   

28.  
Yet in this bargain of herself, she knows  
Not how to treat; but all her chief desires,  
Bids Hubert, as the Twins of his, dispose  
To glory and revenge; and then retires.   

29.  
But with such blushes Hermegild she leaves,  
As the unclouded Evening's Face adorn;  
Nor much he for her parting glory grieves,  
Since such an Evening bodes a happy Morn.   

30.  
Now Hermegild by vows does Hubert bind,  
(Vows by their fate in Lombard Story known)  
He Gartha makes the price of Rhodalind,  
And Aribert his Tenant to the Crown.   

31.  
He bids him now the Army's rage allay;  
By rage (said he) only they Masters are  
Of those they choose, when temperate to obey:  
Against themselves th'impatient chiefly war.   

32.  
We are the People's Pilots, they our winds;  
To change by Nature prone; but Art Laveers,  
And rules them till they rise with Stormy Minds;  
Then Art with danger against Nature Steers.   

33.  
Where calms have first amuz'd, Storms most prevail;  
Close first with calms the Courts suspicious Eyes;  
That whilst with all their ●rim they sleeping sail,  
A sudden Gust may wrack them by surprise.   

34.  
Your Army will (though high in all esteem  
That ever rev'renced Age to action gave)  
But a small Party to Verona seem;  
Which yearly to such Numbers yields a Grave.   

35.  
Nor is our vast Metropolis, like those  
Tame Towns, which peace has softened into fears;  
But Death deformed in all his Dangers knows;  
Dangers, which he like frightful Vizards wears.   

36.  
From many Camps, who foreign winters felt,  
Verona has her conquering Dwellers ta'en;  
In War's great Trade, with richest Nations dealt;  
And did their Gold and Fame with Iron gain.   

37.  
Yet to the mighty Aribert it bows;  
A King outdoing all the Lombard's Line!  
Whose Court (in Iron clad) by courseness shows  
A growing power, which fades when Courts grow fine.   

38.  
Scorn not the Youthful Camp at Bergamo,  
For they are Victors, though in years but young;  
The war does them, they it by action know,  
And have obedient Minds in bodies strong.   

39  
Be slow, and stay for aids, which haste forsakes!  
For though Occasion still does Sloth outgo,  
The rash, who run from help, she ne'er o'ertakes,  
Whose haste thinks Time, the Post of Nature, slow.   

40.  
This is a cause which our Ambition fills;  
A cause, in which our strength we should not waste,  
Vainly like Giants, who did heave at Hills;  
'Tis too unwieldy for the force of haste.   

41.  
A cause for graver Minds that learned are  
In mystic Man; a cause, which we must gain  
By surer methods than depend on war;  
And respite Valour, to employ the brain.   

42.  
In the King's Scale your merits are too light,  
Who with the Duke, weighs his own partial heart;  
Make then the gift of Empire public right,  
And get in Rhodalind the People's part.   

43.  
But this rough side, the meeting Multitude  
If we oppose, we make our voyage long;  
Yet when we with it row, it is subdued;  
And we are wise, where Men in vain are strong.   

44.  
Then to the People sue, but hide your force,  
For they believe the strong are still unjust;  
Never to armed Suitors yield remorse;  
And where they see the power, the right distrust.   

45.  
Assault their pity, as the weakest part,  
Which the first Plaintiff never fails to move;  
They search but in the face to find the heart,  
And grief in Princes, more than triumph, love.   

46.  
And to prepare their pity, Gartha now  
Should in her sorrows height with me return;  
For since their Eyes at all distresses flow,  
How will they at afflicted beauty mourn?   

47.  
Much such a pledge of Peace will with the King  
(Urged by my interest here) my power improve;  
And much my power will to your interest bring,  
If from the watchful Court you hide my Love.   

48.  
If Gartha deigns to love, our love must grow  
Unseen, like Mandrakes weeded under ground;  
That I (still seeming unconcerned) may know  
The King's new depths, which length of trust may sound!   

49.  
Thus Hermegild his studied thoughts declared;  
Whilst Hubert (who believed, discovered love.  
A solid Pledge for hidden faith) prepared▪  
To stay the Camp so furious to remove.   

50.  
And now their rage (by correspondence spread)  
Borgio allays, that else like sparks of fire  
(Which drops at first might drown) by matter fed,  
At last to quench the flame may seas require.   

51.  
As with the Sun they rose in wrath, their wrath  
So with his heat increased; but now he hastes  
Down heavens steep Hill, to his Atlantic Bath,  
Where he refreshes till his Fever wastes.   

52.  
With his (by Borgin's help) their heat declined;  
So soon loved Eloquence does Throngs fubdue;  
The common Mistress to each private Mind;  
Painted and dressed to all, to no Man true.   

53.  
To Court his Gartha Hermegild attends,  
And with old Lovers vain poetic Eyes,  
Marks how her beauty, when the Sun descends,  
His pitied Evening poverty supplies.   

54.  
The Army now to Neighbouring Brescia bear,  
With dismal pomp, the slain: In hallowed ground  
They Paradine, and Dargonet inter,  
And Vasco much in painful war renowned.   

55.  
To Oswald (whose illustrious Roman mind  
Shined out in life, though now in dying hid)  
Hubert these Roman funeral rites assigned,  
Which yet the world's last law had not forbid.   

56.  
Thrice is his Body clean by bathing made,  
And when with Victor's Oil anointed o'er,  
'Tis in the Palace Gate devoutly laid,  
Clad in that Vest which he in Battle wore.   

57  
Whilst seven succeeding Suns pass sadly by,  
The Palace seems all hid in Cypress Boughs;  
From ancient Lore of Man's mortality  
The Type, for where 'tis lopped it never grows.   

58.  
The public funeral voice, till these expire,  
Cries out; Here greatness, tired with honour, rests!  
Come see what Bodies are, when Souls retire;  
And visit death, ere you become his Guests!   

59  
Now on a purple Bed the Corpse they raise,  
Whilst Trumpets summon all the common Choir  
In tune to mourn him, and disperse his praise;  
And then move slowly towards the Funeral fire!   

60.  
They bear before him Spoils they gained in war,  
And his great Ancestors in Sculpture wrought;  
And now arrive, where Hubert does declare  
How oft and well, he for the Lombard's fought.   

61.  
Here, in an Altar's form, a Pile is made  
Of Unctuous Fir, and Sleepers fatal Yew;  
On which the Body is by Mourners laid,  
Who there sweet Gums (their last kind Tribute threw.)   

62.  
Hubert his Arm, Westward, aversly stretched;  
Whilst to the hopeful East his Eyes were turned;  
And with a hallowed Torch the Pyle he reached;  
Which seen, they all with utmost clamour mourned.   

63.  
Whilst the full Flame aspires, Oswald (they cry)  
Farewell! we follow swiftly as the Hours!  
For with Time's wings, towards Death, even Cripples fly!  
This said, the hungry Flame its food devours.   

64.  
Now Priests with Wine the Ashes quench, and hide  
The Rev'renced Relics in a Marble Urn.  
The old dismissive Ilicet is cried  
By the Town voice, and all to Feasts return.   

65.  
Thus Urns may Bodies show; but the fled Mind  
The Learned seek vainly; for whose Quest we pay,  
With such success as cozened Shepherds find,  
Who seek to Wizards when their cattle stray.    

CANTO the Fifth.  
The ARGUMENT.  

The house of ASTRAGON; where in distress  
Of Nature, GONDIBERT, for Art's redress  
Was by old ULFIN brought: where Arts hard strife,  
In studying Nature for the aid of Life,  
Is by full wealth and conduct easy made;  
And Truth much visited, though in her shade.   

1.  
FRom Brescia swiftly o'er the bordering Plain,  
Return we to the House of Astragon;  
Where Gondibert, and his successful Train,  
Kindly lament the Victory they won.   

2.  
But though I Fame's great Book shall open now,  
Expect a while, till she that Decad reads,  
Which does this Duke's eternal Story show,  
And aged Ulfin citys for special deeds.   

3.  
Where Friendship is renowned in Ulfinore;  
Where th' ancient music of delightful verse;  
Does it no less in Goltho's Breast adore,  
And th' union of their equal hearts rehearse.   

4.  
These weary Victors the descending Sun  
Led hither, where swift Night did them surprise;  
And where, for vatiant toils, wise Astragon,  
With sweet rewards of sleep, did fill their Eyes.   

5.  
When to the need●e World Day did appear,  
And freely opened her Treasury of light,  
His house (where Art and Nature Tenants were)  
The pleasure grew, and business of their sight.   

6.  
Where Ulfin (who an old Domestic seems,  
And rules as Master in the Owners Breast)  
Leads Goltho to admire what he esteems;  
And thus, what he had long observed, expressed.   

7.  
Here Art by such a diligence is served,  
As does th' unwearied Planets imitate;  
Whose motion (life of Nature) has preserved  
The world, which God vouchsafed but to create.   

8.  
Those heights, which else Dwarf-life could never reach,  
Here by the wings of Diligence they climb;  
Truth (scared with Terms from Canting Schools) they teach;  
And buy it with their best saved Treasure, Time.   

9  
Here all Men seem Recov'rers of time past;  
As busy as intentive Emmets are;  
As alarmed Armies that entrench in haste;  
Or Cities, whom unlooked-for Sieges scare.   

10.  
Much it delights the wise observers Eye,  
That all these toils direct to several skills;  
Some from the Mine to the hot Furnace high,  
And some from flowery Fields to weeping Stils.   

11.  
The first to hopeful Chemics matter bring,  
Where Medicine they extract for instant cure;  
These bear the sweeter burdens of the Spring;  
Whose virtues (longer known) though slow, are sure.   

12.  
See there wet Divers from Fossone sent!  
Who of the Seas deep Dwellers knowledge give;  
Which (more unquiet than their Element)  
By hungry war, upon each other live.   

13.  
Pearl to their Lord, and Cordial Coral these  
Present; which must in sharpest liquids melt;  
He with Nigella cures that dull disease  
They get, who long with stupid Fish have dwelled.   

14.  
Others through Quarries dig, deeply below  
Where Desert Rivers, cold, and private run;  
Where Bodies conservation best they know,  
And Mines long growth, and how their veins begun.   

15.  
He shows them now towers of prodigious height,  
Where Nature's Friends, Philosophers, remain,  
To censure Meteors in their cause and flight;  
And watch the Wind's authority on Rain.   

16.  
Others with Optic Tubes the Moons scant face  
(Vast Tubes, which like long Cedars mounted lie)  
Attract through Glasses to so near a space,  
As if they came not to survey, but prie.   

17.  
Nine hasty Centuries are now fulfilled,  
Since Optics first were known to Astragon;  
By whom the Moderns are become so skilled,  
They dream of seeing to the Maker's Throne.   

18.  
And wisely Astragon thus busy grew,  
To seek the Stars remote societies;  
And judge the walks of th'old, by finding new;  
For Nature's law in correspondence lies.   

19  
Man's pride (grown to Religion) he abates,  
By moving our loved Earth; which we think fixed;  
Think all to it, and it to none relates;  
With others motion scorn to have it mixed:   

20.  
As if 'twere great and stately to stand still  
Whilst other Orbs dance on; or else think all  
Those vast bright Globes (to show God's needless skill)  
Were made but to attend our little Ball.   

21.  
Now near a severed Building they discerned  
(Which seemed, as in a pleasant shade, retired)  
A Throng, by whose glad diligence they learned,  
They came from Toils which their own choice desired.   

22.  
This they approach, and as they enter it  
Their Eyes were stayed, by reading o'er the Gate,  
Great Nature's Office, in large letters writ;  
And next, they marked who there in office sa●●.   

23.  
Old busy Men, yet much for wisdom famed;  
Hasty to know, though not by haste beguiled;  
These fitly, Nature's Registers were named;  
The Throng were their Intelligencers styled:   

24.  
Who stop by snares, and by their chase o'ertake  
All hidden Beasts the closer Forest yields;  
All that by secret sense their rescue make,  
Or trust their force, or swiftness in the Fields.   

25.  
And of this Throng, some their employment have  
In fleeting Rivers, some fixed Lakes beset;  
Where Nature's self, by shifts, can nothing save  
From trifling Angles, or the swall'wing Net.   

26.  
Some, in the spacious Air, their Prey o'ertake,  
Cos'ning, with hunger, Falcons of their wings;  
Whilst all their patient observations make,  
Which each to Nature's Office duly brings.   

27.  
And there of every Fish, and Foul, and Beast,  
The wil●s those learned Registers record,  
Courage, and fears, their motion and their rest;  
Which they prepare for their more learned Lord.   

28.  
From hence to Nature's Nursery they go;  
Where seems to grow all that in Eden grew;  
And more (if Art her mingled Species show)  
Tha● th'Hebrew King, Nature's Historian, knew.   

29.  
Impatient Simplers climb for Blossoms here:  
When Dews (heavens secret milk) in unseen showers  
First feed the early Childhood of the year;  
And in ripe Summer, stoop for Herbs and Flowers.   

30.  
In Autumn, Seed, and Berries they provide;  
Where Nature a remaining force preserves;  
In Winter dig for Roots, where she does hide  
That stock, which if consumed, the next Spring sterus.   

31.  
From hence (fresh Nature's flourishing Estate!)  
They to her withered Receptacle come:  
Where she appears the loathsome Slave of Fate;  
For here her various Dead possess the Room.   

32.  
This dismal Gallery, lofty, long and wide;  
Was hung with S●●litons of every kind;  
Humane, and all that learned humane pride  
Thinks made t'obey Man's high immortal Mind.   

33.  
Yet on that Wall hangs he too, who so thought;  
And she dried by him, whom that He obeyed;  
By her an El'phant that with Herds had fought,  
Of which the smallest Beast made her afraid.   

34.  
Next it, a Whale is high in Cables tied,  
Whose strength might Herds of Elephants control;  
Then all, (in pairs of every kind) they spied,  
Which Death's wrack leaves, of Fishes, Beasts & Fowl.   

35.  
These Astragon (to watch with curious Eye  
The different Tenements of living breath)  
Collects, with what far Travellers supply;  
And this was called, The Cabinet of Death.   

36.  
Which some the Monument of Bodies, name;  
The Ark, which saves from Graves all dying kinds;  
This to a structure led, long known to Fame,  
And called, The Monument of vanished Minds.   

37.  
Where, when they thought they saw in well sought Books,  
Th'assembled souls of all that Men held wise,  
It bred such awful reverence in their looks,  
As if they saw the buryd writers rise.   

38.  
Such heaps of written thoughts (Gold of the Dead▪  
Which Time does still disperse, but not devour)  
Made them presume all was from Deluge freed,  
Which long-lived Authors writ ere Noah's Shower.   

39  
They saw Egyptian Rolls, which vastly great,  
Did like fallen Pillars lie, and did display  
The tale of Nature's life, from her first hear,  
Till by the Flood o're-cooled, she felt decay.   

40.  
And large as these (for Pens were Pencils then)  
Others that Egypt's chiefest Science showed;  
Whose River forced Geometry on Men,  
Which did distinguish what the Nile overflowed.   

41.  
Near them, in Piles, Chaldean Coseners lie;  
Who the hid business of the Stars relate;  
Who make a Trade of worshipped Prophecy;  
And seem to pick the Cabinet of Fate.   

42.  
There Persian Magis stand, for wisdom praised;  
Long since wise Statesmen, now Magicians thought;  
Altars and Arts are soo● to fiction raised,  
And both would have, that miracles are wrought.   

43.  
In a dark Text, these Statesmen left their Minds;  
For well they knew, that Monarch's Mystery  
(Like that of Priests) but little reverence finds,  
When they the Curtain open to every Eye.   

44.  
Behind this Throng, the talking Greeks had place;  
Who Nature turned to Art, and Truth disguise,  
As skill does native beauty oft deface;  
With Terms they charm the weak, and pose the wise.   

45.  
Now they the Hebrew, Greek, and Roman spy;  
Who for the People's ease, yoked them with Law;  
Whom else, ungoverned lusts would drive awry;  
And each his own way frowardly would draw.   

46.  
In little Tomes these grave first Lawyers lie,  
In Volumes their Interpreters below;  
Who first made Law an Art, than Mystery;  
So clearest springs, when troubled, cloudy grow.   

47.  
But here, the Souls chief Book did all precede;  
Our Map towards heaven to common Crowds denied;  
Who proudly aim to teach, ere they can read;  
And all must stray, where each will be a Guide.   

48.  
About this sacred little Book did stand  
Unwieldy Volumes, and in number great;  
And long it was since any Readers hand  
Had reached them from their unfrequented Seat.   

49.  
For a deep Dust (which Time does softly shed,  
Where only Time does come) their Covers bear;  
On which, grave Spiders, streets of webs have spread;  
Subtle, and slight, as the grave Writers were.   

50.  
In these, heavens holy fire does vainly burn;  
Nor warms, nor lights, but is in sparkles spent,  
Where froward Authors, with disputes, have torn  
The Garment seamless as the Firmament.   

51.  
These are the old polemics, long since read,  
And shut by Astragon; who thought it just,  
They, like the Authors (Truth's Tormentors) dead,  
Should lie unvisited, and lost in dust.   

52.  
Here the Arabian's Gospel open lay,  
(Men injure Truth, who Fiction nicely hide)  
Where they the Monk's audacious stealth survey,  
From the World's first, and greater second Guide.   

53.  
The Curious much perused this, then, new Book;  
As if some secret ways to Heaven it taught;  
For straying from the old, men newer look,  
And prize the found, not finding those they sought.   

54.  
We, in Tradition (heavens dark Map) descry  
Heaven worse than ancient Maps far Indian show;  
Therefore in new, we search where Heaven does lie;  
The Minds sought Ophir, which we long to know.   

55.  
Or as a Planter, though good Land he spies,  
Seeks new, and when no more so good he finds,  
Doubly esteems the first; so Truth men prize;  
Truth, the discovery made by trav'ling Minds.   

56.  
And this false Book, till truly understood  
By Astragon, was openly displayed  
As counterfeit, false Princes, rather should  
Be shown abroad, than in closely Prison laid.   

57  
Now to the old Philosophers they come;  
Who followed Nature with such just despair,  
As some do Kings far off; and when at home,  
Like Courtiers boast, that they deep secret share.   

58.  
Near them are grave dull Moralists; who give  
Counsel to such, as still in public dwell;  
At se●, at Courts, in Camps, and Cities live,  
And scorn experience from th'unpractised Cell.   

59  
Aesop with these stands high, and they below;  
His pleasant wisdom mocks their gravity;  
Who Virtue like a tedious Matron show,  
He dresses Nature to invite the Eye.   

60.  
High skill their Ethics seems whilst he stoops down  
To make the People wise; their learned pride  
Makes all obscure, that Men may prize the Gown,  
With ease lie teaches, what with pain they hide.   

61.  
And next (as if their business ruled Mankind)  
Historians stand, big as their living looks;  
Who thought swift Time they could in fetters bind;  
Till his Confessions they had ta'en in books.   

62.  
But Time oft scaped them in the shades of Night;  
And was in Prince's Closets oft concealed,  
And hid in Battles smoke; so what they write  
Of Courts and Camps, is oft by guess revealed.   

63.  
Near these, Physicians stood; who but reprieve  
Life like a Judge, whom greater power doe● awe▪  
And cannot an Almighty pardon give;  
So much yields Subject Art to Nature's Law.   

64.  
And not weak Art, but Nature we upbraid,  
When our frail essence proudly we take ill;  
Think we are robbed, when first we are decayed,  
And those were murdered whom her law did kill.   

65.  
Now they refresh, after this long survey,  
With pleasant Poets, who the Soul sublime;  
Fame's Her avids, in whose Triumphs they make way;  
And place all those whom Honour helps to climb.   

66.  
And he, who seemed to lead this ravished Race,  
Was heavens loved La●reat, that in Jewry writ;  
Whose Harp approached God's Ear, though none his Face  
Durst see, and first made inspiration, wit.   

67.  
And his Attendants, such blessed Poets are,  
As make unblemished Love, Courts best delight;  
And sing the prosperous Battles of just War;  
By these the loving, Love, and valiant, fight.   

68  
O hireless Science! and of all alone  
The liberal! Meanly the rest each State  
In pension treats, but this depends on none;  
Whose worth they rev'rendly forbear to rate.    

CANTO the Sixth.  
The ARGUMENT.  

How ASTRAGON to Heaven his duty pays  
In Prayer, and Penitence, but most in Praise:  
To these he several Temples dedicates:  
And ULFIN their distinguished use relates.  
Religion's Rites, seem here, in Reason's sway;  
Though Reason must Religion's Laws obey.   

1.  
THe noble Youths (reclaimed by what they saw)  
Would here unquiet war, as pride, for sake;  
And study quiet Nature's pleasant Law,  
Which Schools, through pride, by Art uneasy make.   

2.  
But now a sudden Shout their thoughts diverts!  
So cheerful, general, and loud it was,  
As passed through all their Ears, and filled their Hearts;  
Which liked the joy, before they knew the cause.   

3.  
This Ulfin by his long Domestic skill  
Does thus explain, The Wise I here observe,  
Are wise towards God; in whose great service still,  
More than in that of Kings, themselves they serve.   

4.  
He who this Building's Builder did create,  
As an Apartment here Triangular;  
Where Astragon Three Fanes did dedicated,  
To days of Praise, of Penitence, and Prayer.   

5.  
To these, from different motives, all proceed;  
For when discoveries they on Nature gain,  
They praise high Heaven which makes their work succe 〈…〉  
But when it falls, in Penitence complain.   

6.  
●f after Praise, new blessings are not given,  
Nor mourning Penitence can ills repair,  
Like practised Beggars, they solicit Heaven,  
And will prevail by violence of Prayer.   

7.  
The Temple built for Prayer, can neither boast  
The Bvilder's curious Art, nor does declare  
By choice Materials he intended cost;  
To show, that nought should need to tempt to Prayer.   

8.  
No Bells are here! Unhinged are all the Gates!  
Since craving in distress is natural,  
All lies so open that none for ent'rance waits,  
And those whom Faith invites, can need no call.   

9  
The Great have by distinction here no name;  
For all so covered come, in grave disguise,  
To show none come for decency or fame)  
That all are strangers to each others Eyes.   

10.  
But Penitence appears unnatural;  
For we repent what Nature did persuade;  
And we lamenting Men's continued fall,  
Accuse what Nature necessary made.   

11.  
Since the required extreme of Penitence  
Seems so severe, this Temple was designed,  
solemn and strange without, to catch the sense,  
And dismal showed within, to awe the mind.   

12.  
Of sad black Marble was the outward Frame,  
A mourning Monument to distant sight)  
●ut by the largeness when you near it came,  
It seemed the Palace of Eternal Night.   

13.  
Black beauty (which black Meroens had praised  
Above their own) gravely adorned each part;  
In Stone, from Nyles head Quarries, slowly raised,  
And slowlyer polished by Numidi an Art.   

14.  
Hither a loud Bells toll, rather commands,  
Than seems t'invite the persecured Ear;  
A summons Nature hardly understands;  
For few, and flow are those who enter here.   

15.  
Within a dismal Majesty they find!  
All gloomy great, all silent does appear!  
As Chaos was, ere th'Elements were designed;  
Man's evil fate seems hid and fashioned here.   

16.  
Here all the Ornament is reverend black;  
Here, the checked Sun his universal Face  
Stops bashfully, and will no entrance make;  
As if he spied Night naked through the Glass.   

17.  
Black Curtains hide the Glass; whilst from on high  
A winking Lamp still threatens all the Room;  
As if the lazy flame just now would die:  
Such will the Sun's last light appear at Doom!   

18.  
This Lamp was all, that here informed all Eyes;  
And by refléx, did on a Picture gain  
Some few false Beams, that thence from Sodom rise;  
Where Pencils seign the fire which Heaven did rain.   

19  
This on another Tablet did reflect,  
Where twice was drawn the amorous Magdaline;  
Whilst beauty was her care, than her neglect;  
And brightest through her Tears she seemed to shine.   

20.  
Near her, seemed crncified, that lucky Thief  
(In heavens dark Lot'ry prosperous, more than wife)  
Who groap'd at last, by chance, for heavens relief,  
And Throngs undoes with Hope, by one drawn Prize.   

21.  
In many Figures by reflex were sent,  
Through this black Vault (instructive to the mind)  
That early, and this tardy Penitent;  
For with Obsidian stone 'twas chiefly lined.   

22.  
The Seats were made of Ethiopes swarthy wood,  
Abstersive Ebony, but thinly filled;  
For none this place by nature understood;  
And practise, when unpleasant, makes few skilled.   

23.  
Yet these whom heavens mysterious choice fetched in,  
Quickly attain Devotion's utmost scope;  
For having softly mourned away their sin,  
They grow so certain, as to need no Hope.   

24.  
At a low Door they entered, but depart  
Through a large Gate, and to fair Fields proceed;  
Where Astragon makes Nature last by Art,  
And such long Summer's shows, as ask no seed.   

25.  
Whilst Ulfin this black Temple thus expressed  
To these kind Youths, whom equal soul endears;  
Goltho and Ulfinore, (in friendship blest)  
A second gen'ral shout salutes their Ears.   

26.  
To the glad House of Praise this shout does call!  
To Prayer (said he) no Summons us invites,  
Because distress does thither summon all)  
As the loud toll to Penitence excites.   

27.  
But since dull Men, to gratitude are slow,  
And joyed consent of Hearts is high heavens choice;  
To this of Praise, shouts summon us to go;  
Of Hearts assembled, the unfeigned Voice.   

28.  
And since, wise Astragon, with due applause,  
Kind Heaven, for his success, on Nature pays;  
This day, Victorious Art, has given him cause,  
Much to augment heavens loved reward of praise.   

29.  
For this effectual day his Art revealed,  
What has so oft made Nature's spies to pine,  
The Loadstones mystic use, so long concealed  
In closely alliance with the courser Mine.   

30.  
And this in sleepy Vision, he was bid  
To register in Characters unknown;  
Which Heaven will have from Navigators hid,  
Till Saturn's walk be twenty Circuits grown.   

31.  
For as Religion (in the warm East bred)  
And Arts (which next to it most needful were)  
From Vices sprung from their corruption, fled;  
And thence vouchsafed a cold Plantation here;   

32.  
So when they here again corrupted be,  
(For Man can even his Antidotes infect)  
heavens reserved world they in the West shall see;  
To which this stone's hid virtue will direct.   

33.  
Religion then (whose Age this world upbraids,  
As scorned deformity) will thither steer;  
Served at fit distance by the Arts, her Maids,  
Which grow too bold, when they attend too near.   

34.  
And some, whom Traffic thither tempts, shall thence  
In her exchange (though they did grudge her shrines,  
And poorly banished her to save expense)  
Bring home the Idol, Gold, from newfound Mines.   

35.  
Till then, sad Pilots must be often lost,  
Whilst from the Ocean's dreaded Face they shrink;  
And seeking safety near the cos'ning Coast,  
With winds surprised, by Rocky Ambush sink.   

36  
Or if success rewards, what they endure,  
The World's chief Jewel, Time, they then engage  
And forfeit (trusting long the Cynosure)  
To bring home nought but wretched Gold, and Age.   

37.  
Yet when this plague of ignorance shall end,  
(Dire ignorance, with which God plagues us most,  
Whilst we not feeling it, him most offend)  
Then lowered Sails no more shall tie the Coast.   

38.  
They with new Tops to Fore-masts and the Main,  
And Misens' new, shall th' Ocean's Breast invade;  
Stretch new sails out, as Arms to entertain  
Those winds, of which their Fathers were afraid.   

39  
Then (sure of either Pole) they will with pride,  
In every storm, salute this constant Stone!  
And scorn that Star, which every Cloud could hide;  
The Seamen's spark! which soon, as seen, is gone!   

40.  
'Tis sung, the Ocean shall his bonds untie,  
And Earth in half a Globe be penned no more;  
Typhis shall sail, till Thube he descry,  
But a domestic step to distant Shore!   

41.  
This Astragon had read; and what the Greek,  
Old ●r●ti●s in Egyptian Books had found;  
By which, his travailed soul, new Worlds did seek,  
And dived to find the old Atlantis drowned.   

42.  
Grave Ulfin thus discoursed; and now he brings  
The Youths to view the Temple built for Praise;  
Where Olive, for th' Olympian Victor Springs;  
Myrtle, for Love's; and for War's triumph, Bays.   

43.  
These, as rewards of praise about it grew;  
For liberal praise from an abundant Mind  
Does even the Conqueror of Fate subdue;  
Since heavens good King is Captive to the Kind.   

44.  
Dark are all Thrones to what this Temple seemed,  
Whose Marble veins outshined heavens various Bow;  
And would (eclipsing all proud Rome esteemed)  
To Northern Eyes, like Eastern Mornings show.   

45.  
From Paros I●le, was brought the milky white;  
From Sparta, came the Green, which cheers the view;  
From Araby, the blushing ●ni●hite,  
And from the Misnian Hills, the deeper Blue.   

46.  
The arched Front did on Vast Pillars fall;  
Where all harmonious Instruments they spy  
Drawn out in Bess; which from the Astrigall  
To the flat E●ise in apt resemblance lie.   

47.  
Tossed Cymbals (which the sullen Jews admired)  
Were figured here, with all of ancient choice  
That joy did ere invent, or breath inspired,  
Or flying Fingers touched into a voice.   

48.  
In Statue o'er the Gate, God's Fav'rite-King  
The author of Celestial praise) did stand;  
His Choir (that did his sonnets set and Sing)  
In Niches ranged, attended either Hand.   

49.  
From these, old Greeks sweet Music did improve;  
The Solemn Dorian did in Temples charm,  
The softer Lydian soothed to Bridal Love,  
And warlike Phrygian did to Battle warm!   

50.  
They enter now, and with glad reverence saw  
Glory, too solid great to taste of pride;  
So sacred pleasant, as preserves an awe;  
Though jealous Priests, it neither praise nor hide,   

51.  
Tapers and Lamps are not admitted here;  
Those, but with shadows, give false beauty grace;  
And this victorious glory can appear  
Unvayled before the Sun's Meridian Face:   

52.  
Whose Eastern lustre rashly enters now;  
Where it his own mean Infancy displays;  
Where it does Man's chief obligation show,  
In what does most adorn the House of Praise;   

53.  
The great Creation by ●old Pencils drawn;  
Where a feigned Curtain does our Eyes forbid,  
Till the Sun's Parent, Light, first seem to dawn  
From quiet Chaos, which that Curtain hid.   

54.  
Then this all-rev'renced Sun (God's hasty Spark  
Struck out of Chaos, when he first struck Light)  
Flies to the Spheres, where first he found all dark,  
And kindled there th'unkindled Lamps of Night.   

55.  
Then Motion, Nature's great Preservative,  
Tuned order in this World, Life's restless Inn;  
Gave Tides to Seas, and caused stretched Plants to live;  
Else Plants but Seeds, and Seas but Lakes had been.   

56  
But this Fourth Fiat, warming what was made,  
(For Light ne'er warmed, till it did motion get)  
The Picture fills the World with woody shade;  
To show how Nature thrives by Motion's heat.   

57  
Then to those Woods the next quick Fiat brings  
The Feathered kind; where merrily they fed,  
As if their Hearts were lighter than their Wings;  
For yet no Cage was framed, nor Net was spread.   

58.  
The same Fifth voice does Seas and Rivers Store;  
Then into Rivers Brooks the Painter powers,  
And Rivers into Seas; which (rich before)  
Return their gifts, to both exhaled in Showers.   

59  
This voice (whose swift dispatch in all it wrought,  
Seems to denote the Speaker was in haste,  
As if more Worlds were framing in his thought)  
Adds to this World one Fiat, as the last.   

60.  
Then strait an universal Herd appears;  
First gazing on each other in the shade;  
Wondering with levelled Eyes, and lifted Ears,  
Then play, whilst yet their Tyrant is unmade.   

61.  
And Man, the Painter now presents to view;  
Haughty without, and busy still within;  
Whom, when his Furred and Horned Subjects knew,  
Their sport is ended, and there fears begin.   

62.  
But here (to cure this Tyrant's sullenness)  
The Painter has a new false Curtain drawn;  
Where Beauty's hid, Creation to express;  
From thence, harmless as light, he makes it dawn.   

63.  
From thence breaks lovely forth, the World's first Maid;  
Her Breast, Love's Cradle, where Love quiet lies;  
Nought yet had seen so soul, to grow afraid,  
Nor gay, to make it cry with longing Eyes,   

64.  
And thence, from stupid sleep, her Monarch steals;  
She wonders, till so vain his wonder grows,  
That it his feeble sov'reigntie reveals;  
Her Beauty then, his Manhood does depose.   

65.  
Deep into shades the Painter leads them now;  
To hide their future deeds; then storms does raise  
o'er heavens smooth face, because their life does grow  
Too black a story for the House of Praise.   

66.  
A noble painted Vision next appears;  
Where all heavens Frowns in distant prospect waste;  
And nought remains, but a short shower of Tears,  
Shed, by its pity, for Revenges past.   

67.  
The Worlds one Ship, from th'▪ old to a new World bound,  
Freighted with Life (chief of uncertain Trades!)  
After Five Moons at dri●t, lies now aground;  
Where her frail Stowage, she in haste unlades.   

68  
On Persian Caucasus the Eight descend,  
And seem their trivial essence to deplore,  
Grieved to begin this World in th' others end,  
And to behold wracked Nations on the Shore.   

69.  
Each humbled thus his Beasts led from aboard,  
As fellow-Passengers, and Heirs to breath;  
Joint Tenants to the World, he not their Lord;  
Such likeness have we in the Glass of Death.   

70.  
Yet this humility begets their joy;  
And taught, that Heaven (which fully sin survays)  
Was partial where it did not quite destroy;  
So made the whole World's Dirge their song of praise.   

71.  
This first redemption to another led,  
Kinder in deeds, and nobler in effects;  
That but a few did respite from the Dead,  
This all the Dead from second Death protects.   

72.  
And know, lost Nature, this resemblance was  
Thy frank Redeemer in ascension shown;  
When Hell he conquered in thy desperate cause;  
Hell, which before Man's common Grave was grown.   

73.  
By an Imperial Pencil this was wrought;  
Ronnded in all the Curious would behold;  
Where life Came out, and Met the Painter's thought;  
The Force was tender, though the strokes were bold.   

74.  
The holy Mourners, who this Lord of Life  
Ascending saw, did seem with him to rise;  
So well the Painter drew their Passions strife,  
To follow him with Bodies, as with Eyes.   

75.  
This was the chief which in this Temple did,  
By Pencils Rhetoric to praise persuade;  
Yet to the living here, compared, seems hid;  
Who shine all painted Glory into shade.   

76.  
Lord Astragon a Purple Mantle wore,  
Where Nature's story was in Colours wrought▪  
And though her ancient Text seemed dark before,  
'Tis in this pleasant Comment clearly taught.   

77.  
Such various Flowery Wreaths th' Assembly wear,  
As showed them wisely proud of Nature's pride;  
Which so adorned them, that the cour●est here  
Did seem a prosperous Bridegroom, or a Bride.   

78.  
All showed as fresh, and ●all, and innocent,  
As Virgins to their Lovers first survey;  
Joyed as the Spring, when March his sighs has spent,  
And April's sweet rash Tears are dried by May.   

79.  
And this confederate joy so swelled each Breast,  
That joy would turn to pain without a vent▪  
Therefore their voices heavens renown expressed;  
Though Tongues ne'er reach, what minds so nobly meant.   

80.  
Yet Music here showed all her Art's high worth;  
Whilst Virgin-Trebbles, ●eem'd, with bashful grace,  
To call the bolder married Tenor forth;  
Whose Manly voice challenged the Giant Base.   

81.  
To these the swift soft Instruments reply;  
Whispering for help to those whom winds inspire;  
Whose louder Notes, to Neighbouring Forests fly,  
And summon Nature's Voluntary Quire.   

82.  
These Astragon, by secret skill had taught,  
To help, as if in artful Consort bred;  
Who sung, as if by chance on him they thought,  
Whose care their careless merry Fathers Fed.   

83.  
Hither, with borrowed strength, Duke Gondibert  
Was brought, which now his ripening wounds allow;  
And high heavens praise in music of the heart,  
He inward sings, to pay a Victor's vow.   

84.  
Praise, is devotion fit for mighty Minds!  
The differing World's agreeing Sacrifice;  
Where Heaven divided Faiths united finds;  
But Prayer in various discord upward flies.   

85.  
For Prayer the Ocean is, where diversely  
Men steer their Course, each to a several Coast;  
Where all our interests so discordant be,  
That half beg winds by which the rest are lost.   

86.  
By Penitence, when we ourselves forsake,  
'Tis but in wise design on piteous Heaven;  
In Praise we nobly give, what God may take,  
And are without a Beggars blush forgiven.   

87.  
It's utmost force, like Powder's, is unknown!  
And though weak King's excess of Praise may fear,  
Yet when 'tis here, like Powder, dangerous grown,  
heavens Vault receives, what would the Palace tear.    

CANTO the Seventh.  
The ARGUMENT.  

The Duke's wished health in doubtful wounds assured;  
Who gets new wounds before the old are cured:  
Nature in BIRTHA, Art's weak help derides,  
Which strives to mend, what it at best but hides;  
Shows Nature's courser works, so hid, more course,  
As Sin concealed and uncon●es●'d, grows worse.   

1.  
LEt none our Lombard Author rudely blame,  
Who from the Story has thus long digressed;  
But for his righteous pains, may his fair Fame  
For ever travel, whilst his ashes rest.   

2.  
Ill could he leave Art's Shop of Nature's Store;  
Where she the hidden Soul would make more known;  
Though common Faith seeks Souls, which is no more  
Than long Opinion to Religion grown.   

3.  
A while then let this sage Historian stay  
With Astragon, till he new wounds reveals,  
And such (though now the old are worn away)  
As Balm, nor juice of Pyral, never heals.   

4.  
To Astragon, Heaven for succession gave  
One only Pledge, and Birtha was her name;  
Whose Mother slept, where Flowers grew on her Grave,  
And she succeeded her in Face, and Fame.   

5.  
Her beauty, Princes, durst not hope to use,  
Unless, like Poets, for their Morning Theme;  
And her Minds beauty they would rather choose,  
Which did the light in beauty's Lantern seem.   

6.  
She ne'er saw Courts, yet Courts could have undone  
With untaught looks, and an unpractised heart;  
Her Nets, the most prepared, could never shun;  
For Nature spread them in the scorn of Art.   

7.  
She never had in busy Cities been,  
Ne'er warmed with hopes, nor ere allayed with fears;  
Not seeing punishment, could guests no Sin;  
And Sin not seeing, ne'er had use of tears.   

8.  
But here▪ her Father's precepts gave her skill,  
Which with incessant business filled the Hours;  
In spring, she gathered Blossoms for the Still,  
In Autumn, Berries; and in Summer, Flowers.   

9  
And as kind Nature with calm diligence  
Her own free virtue silently employs,  
Whilst she, unheard, does ripening growth dispense,  
So were her virtues busy without noise.   

10.  
Whilst her great Mistress, Nature, thus she tends,  
The busy Household waits no less on her;  
By secret law, each to her beauty bends;  
Though all her lowly Mind to that prefer.   

11.  
Gracious and free, she breaks upon them all  
With Morning looks; and they when she does rise,  
Devoutly at her dawn in homage fall,  
And droop like Flowers, when Evening shuts her Eyes.   

12.  
The sooty Chemist (who his sight does waste,  
Attending lesser Fires) she passing by,  
Broke his loved Lymbic, through enamoured haste,  
And let, like common Dew, th' Elixir fly.   

13.  
And here the grey▪ Philosophers resort,  
Who all to her, like crafty Courtiers, bow;  
Hoping for secrets now in Nature's Court▪  
Which only she (her favourite Maid) can know.   

14.  
These, as the Lords of Science, she respects,  
And with familiar beams their age she cheers,  
Yet all those civil forms seem but neglects  
To what she shows, when Astragon appears.   

15.  
For as she once from him her being took,  
She hourly takes her Law● reads with swift sight  
His will, even at the opening of his look,  
And shows, by haste, obedience her delight▪   

16.  
She makes (when she at distance to him bows)  
His interest in her Mother's beauty known,  
For that's th' Orig'nal whence her Copy ' grows,  
And near Orig'nals, Copies are not shown.   

17.  
And he, with dear regard, her gifts does wear  
Of Flowers, which she in mystic order ties,  
And with the sacrifice of many a tear  
Salutes her loyal Mother in her Eyes.   

18.  
The just Historians, Birtha thus express,  
And tell how by her Sires Example taught,  
She served the wounded Duke in Life's distress,  
And his fled Spirits back by Cordials brought.   

19  
Black melancholy Mists, that fed despair  
Through wounds long rage, with sprinkled Vervin cleared  
Strewed Leaves of Willow to refresh the air,  
And with rich Fumes his sullen senses cheered.   

20.  
He that had served▪ great Love with reverend heart,  
In these old wounds, worse wounds from him endures,  
For Love, makes Birtha shift with Death, his Dart,  
And she kills faster than her Father cures.   

21.  
Her heedless innocence as little knew▪  
The wounds she gave, as those from Love she took;  
And Love lifts high each secret Sha●t he drew;  
Which at their Stars he first in triumph shaken!   

22.  
Love he had liked, yet never lo●g'd before;  
But finds him now a bold unquier Guest;  
Who climbs to windows, when we shut the Door;  
And enter●d, never lets the Master rest.   

23.  
So strange disorder; now he pines for health,  
Makes him conceal this Revelle● with shame;  
She not the Robber knows, yet feels the stealth,  
And never but in Songs had heard his name.   

24.  
Yet than it was, when she did smile at Hearts  
Which Country Lovers wea● in bleeding Seals▪  
Asked where his pretty Godhead found such Da●●s,  
As make those wounds that only Hymen heals.   

25.  
And this, her ancient Maid, with sharp complaints  
Herd, and rebuked; shook her experienced Head,  
With tears ●osought her not to jest at Saints,  
Nor mock those Martyrs, Love had Captive led.   

26.  
Nor think the pions Poets ere would waste▪  
So many tears in Ink, to make Maids mourn,  
I● injured Lovers had in ages past▪  
The lucky Myrtle, more than Willow worn.   

27.  
This grave rebuke, Officious Memory  
Presents to Birtha's thought; who now believed  
Such sighing Songs, as tell why Lovers die,  
And praised their faith, who wept, when Poets griev '   

28.  
She, full of inward questions, walks alone,  
To take her heart aside in secret Shade;  
But knocking at her breast, it seemed, or gone,  
Or by confed'racie was useless made;   

29.  
Or else some stranger did usurp its room▪  
One so remote, and new in every thought,  
As his behaviour shows him not at home,  
Nor the Guide sober that him thither brought.   

30.  
Yet with this foreign Heart, she does begin  
To treat of Love, her most unstudied Theme;  
And like young conscienc'd Casuists, thinks that sin,  
Which will by talk and practise lawful seem.   

31.  
With open Ears, and everwaking Eyes,  
And flying Feet, Love's fire she from the sight  
Of all her Maids does carry, as from Spies;  
Jealous, that what burns her, might give them light.   

32.  
Beneath a Myrtle Covert now does spend  
In Maids weak wishes, her whole stock of thought;  
Fond Maids! who Love, with Minds fine stuff would mend,  
Which Nature purposely of Bodies wrought,   

33.  
She fashions him she loved of Angels kind,  
Such as in holy Story were employed  
To the first Fathers from th' Eternal Mind,  
And in short vision only are enjoyed.   

34.  
As Eagles then, when nearest Heaven they fly;  
Of wild impossibles soon weary grow;  
Feeling their bodies find no rest so high,  
And therefore perch on Earthly things below:   

35.  
So now she yields; him she an Angel deemed  
Shall be a Man; the Name which Virgins fear;  
Yet the most harmless to a Maid he seemed,  
That ever yet that fatal name did beat.   

36.  
Soon her opinion of his hurtless heart,  
Affection turns to faith▪ and then Loves fire  
To Heaven, though bashfully, she does impart;  
And to her Mother in the Heavenly Quire.   

37.  
If I do love, (said she) that love (O Heaven!)  
Your own Disciple, Nature, bred in me;  
Why should I hide the passion you have given,  
Or blush to show effects which you decree?   

38.  
And you, my altered Mother (grown above  
Great Nature, which you read, and rev'renced here)  
Chide not such kindness, as you once called Love,  
When you as mortal as my Father were.   

39  
This said, her Soul into her breasts retires!  
With Love's vain diligence of heart she dreams  
Herself into possession of desires,  
And trusts unanchored Hope in fleeting Streams.   

40.  
Already thinks, the Duke her own spoused Lord,  
Cured, and again from bloody battle brought,  
Where all false Lovers perished by his sword,  
The true to her for his protection sought.   

41.  
She thinks how her imagined Spouse and she,  
So much from Heaven, may by her virtues gain;  
That they by Time shall ne'er o'ertaken be,  
No more than Time himself is overtaken.   

42.  
Or should he touch them as he by does pass,  
heavens favour may repay their Summers gone,  
And he so mix their sand in a slow Glass,  
That they shall live, and not as Two, but One.   

43.  
She thinks of Eden-life; and no rough wind,  
In their pacifique Sea shall wrinkles make;  
That still her lowliness shall keep him kind,  
Her cares keep him asleep, her voice awake.   

44.  
She thinks, if ever anger in him sway  
(The Youthful Warriors most excused disease)  
Such chance her Tears shall calm, as showers alloy  
The accidental rage of Winds and Seas.   

45.  
She thinks that Babes proceed from mingling Eyes,  
Or Heaven from Neighbourhood increase allows,  
As Palm, and the Mamora fructifies;  
Or they are got, by closely exchanging vows.   

46.  
But come they (as she hears) from Mother's pain,  
(Which by th'unlucky first-Maids longing, proves  
A lasting curse) yet that she will sustain,  
So they be like this Heavenly Man she loves.   

47.  
Thus to herself in day-dreams Birtha talks;  
The Duke (whose wounds of war are healthful grown)  
To cure Love's wounds, seeks Birtha where she walks▪  
Whose wand'ring Soul, seeks him to cure her own.   

48.  
Yet when her solitude he did invade.  
Shame (which in Maids is unexperienced fear)  
Taught her to wish Night's help to make more shade,  
That Love (which Maids think guilt) might not appear.   

49.  
And she had fled him now, but that he came  
So like an awed, and conquered Enemy,  
That he did seem offenceless, as her shame;  
As if he but advanced for leave to fly.   

50.  
First with a longing Seaman's look he gazed,  
Who would ken Land, when Seas would him devour;  
Or like a fearful Scout, who stands amazed  
To view the Foe, and multiplies their power.   

51.  
Then all her knowledge which her Father had  
He dreams in her, through purer Organs wrought;  
Whose Soul (since there more delicately clad)  
By lesser weight, more active was in thought.   

52.  
And to that Soul thus spoke, with trembling voice,  
The world will be (O thou, the whole world's Maid!)  
Since now 'tis old enough to make wise choice,  
Taught by thy mind, and by thy beauty swayed.   

53.  
And I a needless part of it, unless  
You'd think me for the whole a Delegate,  
To treat, for what they want of y●●● excess,  
Virtue to serve the universal State.   

54.  
Nature (our first example) and our Queen,  
Whose Court this is, and you her Minion Maid,  
The World, thinks now, is in her sickness seen,  
And that her noble influence is decayed.   

55.  
And the Records so worn of her first Law,  
That Men, with Art's hard shifts, read what is good;  
Because your beauty many never saw,  
The Text by which your Mind is understood.   

56.  
And I with the apostate world should grow,  
From sovereign Nature, a revolted Slave,  
But that my lucky wounds brought me to know,  
How with their cure, my sicker mind to save.   

57  
A mind still dwelling idly in mine Eyes,  
Where it from outward pomp could ne'er abstain;  
But even in beauty, cost of Courts did prize,  
And Nature unassisted, thought too plain.   

58.  
Yet by your beauty now reformed, I find  
All other only currant by false light;  
Or but vain Visions of a feverish mind;  
Too slight to stand the test of waking sight.   

59  
And for my healthful Mind (diseased before)  
My love I pay; a gift you may disdain,  
Since Love to you, Men give not, but restore;  
As Rivers to the Sea restore the Rain.   

60.  
Yet Eastern Kings, who all by birth possess,  
Take gifts, as gifts, from Vassals of the Crown;  
So think in love, your property not less,  
By my kind giving what was first your own.   

61.  
Lifted with Love▪ thus he with Lover's grace,  
And Love's wild wonder, spoke; and he was raised  
So much with reverence of this learned place,  
That still he feared to injure all he praised.   

62.  
And she in love unpractised and unread,  
(But for some hints her Mistress, Nature, taught)  
Had it, till now, like grief with silence fed;  
For Love and grief are nourished best with thought.   

63.  
But this closely Diet Love endures not long;  
He must in sighs, or speech, take air abroad;  
And thus, with his Interpreter, her Tongue,  
He ventures forth, though like a stranger awed.   

64.  
She said, those virtues now she highly needs,  
Which he so powerfully does in her praise,  
To check (since vanity on praises feed)  
That pride, which his authentic words may raise.   

65.  
That if her Prayers, or care, did aught restore  
Of absent health, in his bemoaned distress;  
She begged, he would approve her duty more,  
And so commend her feeble virtue less,   

66.  
That she, the payment he of love would make,  
Less understood, than yet the debt she knew;  
But coins unknown suspiciously we take,  
And debts, till manifest, are never due.   

67.  
With bashful Looks besought him to retire,  
Lest the sharp Air should his new health invade;  
And as she spoke, she saw her reverend Sire  
Approach to seek her in her usual shade.   

68  
To whom with filial homage she does how;  
The Duke did first at distant duty stand,  
But soon embraced his knees; whilst he more low  
Does bend to him, and then reached Birtha's hand.   

69.  
Her Face, o recast with thought, does soob● trey  
Th'assembled spirits, which his Eyes detect  
●y her pale look, as by the Milky way,  
Men first did the assembled Stars suspect.   

70.  
●r as a Prisoner, that in Prison pines,  
Still at the utmost window grieving lies;  
Even so her Soul, imprisoned, sadly shines,  
As if it watched for freedom at her Eyes!   

71.  
This guides him to her Pulse, th'Alarum Bell,  
Which waits the insurrections of desire;  
And rings so fast, as if the Citadel,  
Her newly conquered Breast, were all one fire!   

72.  
Then on the Duke, he casts a short survey;  
Whose Veins, his Temples, with deep purple grace;  
Then Love's despair gives them a pale allay;  
And shifts the whole complexion of his Face.   

73.  
Nature's wise Spy does outward with them walk;  
And finds, each in the midst of thinking starts;  
Breathed short, and swiftly in disodered talk,  
To cool, beneath Love's Torrid Zone, their hearts,   

74.  
When all these Symptones he observed, he knows  
From Alga, which is rooted deep in Seas,  
To the high Cedar that on Mountains grows,  
No sovereign herb is found for their disease.   

75.  
He would not Nature's eldest Law resist,  
As if wise Nature's Law could be impure;  
But Birtha with indulgent Looks dismissed,  
And means to counsel, what he cannot cure.   

76.  
With mourning Gondibert he walks apart,  
To watch his Passions force, who seems to bear  
By silent grief, Two Tyrants o'er his Heart,  
Great Love, and his inferior Tyrant, Fear.   

77.  
But Astragon such kind inquiries made,  
Of all which to his Art's wise cares belong,  
As his sick silence he does now dissuade,  
And midst Love's fears, give courage to his Tongue.   

78.  
Then thus he spoke with Love's humility;  
Have pity Father! and since first so kind,  
You would not let this worthless Body die,  
Vouchasafe more nobly to preserve my Mind!   

79.  
A Mind so lately lucky, as it here  
Has Virtue's Mirror found, which does reflect  
Such blemishes as Custom made it wear,  
But more authentic Nature does detect.   

80.  
A Mind long sick of Monarches vain disease;  
Not to be filled, because with glory fed;  
So busy it condemned even War of Ease,  
And for their useless rest despised the Dead.   

81.  
But since it here has Virtue quiet sound,  
It thinks (though Storms were wished by it before)  
All sick at least at Sea, that scape undrowned,  
Whom Glory serves as wind to leave the shore.   

82.  
All Virtue is to yours but fashion now,  
Religion, Art; Internals are all gone,  
Or outward turned, to satisfy with show,  
Not God, but his inferior Eye, the Sun.   

83.  
And yet, though Virtue be as fashion sought,  
And now Religion rules by Art's praised skill;  
Fashion is Virtue's Mimmick, falsely taught,  
And Art, but Nature's Ape, which plays her ill.   

84.  
To this blessed House (great Nature's Court) all Courts  
Compared, are but dark Closets for retreat  
Of private Minds, Battles but children's sports;  
And only simple good, is solid Great.   

85.  
Let not the Mind, thus freed from error's Night,  
(Since you reprieved my Body from the Grave)  
Perish for being how in love with light,  
But let your Virtue, Virtue's Lover save.   

86.  
Birtha I love; and who loves wisely so,  
Steps far towards all which Virtue can attain;  
But if we perish, when towards Heaven we go,  
Then have I learned that Virtue is in vain.   

87.  
And now his Heart (extracted through his Eyes  
In Love's Elixir, Tears) does soon subdue  
Old Astragon; whose pity, though made wise  
With Love's false Essences, likes these as true.   

88  
The Duke he to a secret Bower does lead,  
Where he his Youths first Story may attend;  
To guess, ere he will let his love proceed;  
By such a dawning, how his day will end.   

89.  
For Virtue, though a rarely planted Flower,  
Was in the seed now by this Florist known;  
Who could foretell, even in springing hour,  
What colours she shall wear when fully blown.    

CANTO the Eighth.  
The ARGUMENT.  

BIRTHA her first unpractised Love bewails,  
Whilst GONDIBERT on ASTRAGON prevails,  
By showing, high▪ Ambition is of use,  
And Glory in the Good needs no excuse.  
GOLTHO a grief to ULFINORE reveals,  
Whilst he a greater of his own conceals.   

1.  
BIrtha her griefs to her Apartment brought,  
Where all her Maids to Heaven were used to ra●●●  
Their voices, whilst their busy Fingers wrought  
To deck the Altar of the House of Praise.   

2.  
But now she finds their Music turned to care;  
Their looks allayed, like beauty overworn;  
Silent and sad as with ring Fav'rites are,  
Who for their sick indulgent Monarch mourn.   

3.  
Thula (the eldest of this silenced Choir)  
When Birtha at this change astonished was,  
With hasty whisper, begged her to retire▪  
And on her knees thus tells their sorrows cause.   

4.  
Forgive me such experience, as too soon,  
Showed me unlucky Love; by which I guess  
How Maids are by their innocence undone,  
And trace those sorrows that them first oppress.   

5.  
Forgive such Passion as to Speech persuades,  
And to my Tongue my observation brought;  
And then forgive my Tongue, which to your Maids,  
Too rashly carried, what Experience taught.   

6.  
For since I saw this wounded stranger here,  
Your inward music still untuned has been;  
You, who could need no hope, have learned to feat,  
And practised grief, ere you did know to Sin.   

7.  
This being Love, to Agatha I told;  
Did on her Tongue, as on still Death reli●  
But winged Love, she was too young to hold,  
And, wanton-like, let it to others fly.   

8.  
Love, who in whisper scaped, did public grow;  
Which makes them now their time in silence waste;  
Makes their neglected Beedles move so slow,  
And through their Eyes, their Hearts dissolve so fast.   

9  
For oft, dire tales of Love has filled their Heads;  
And while they doubt you in that Tyrant's power,  
The Spring (they think) may visit Woods and Meads,  
But scarce shall hear a Bird, or see a Flower.   

10.  
Ah how (said Birtha) shall I dare confess  
My griefs to thee, Love's rash, impatient Spy;  
Thou (Thula) who didst r●● to tell thy guess,  
With secrets known, wilt to confession fly.   

11.  
But if I love this Prince, and have in Heaven  
Made any Friends by vows, you need not fear  
He will make good the feature, Heaven has given▪  
And be as harmless ●s his looks appear.   

12.  
Yet I have heard, that Men whom Maids think kind,  
Calm, as forgiven Saints, at their last Hour,  
Oft prove like Seas, enraged by every wind,  
And all who to their Bosoms trust, devour.   

26.  
Howe'er Heaven knows, (the witness of the Mind)  
My hear●bears Men nomalice, nor esteems  
Young Princes of the common cruel kind,  
Nor Love so foul as it in Story seems.   

27.  
Yet if this Prince brought Love, what ere it be,  
I must suspect, though I accuse it not;  
For since he came, my med●'nal Huswiserie,  
Confections, and my Stills, are all forgot.   

28.  
Blossoms in winds, Berries in Frosts may fall!  
And Flowers sink down in Rain! For I no more  
Shall Maids to woods, for early gath'rings call,  
No● haste to Gardens to prevent a shower.   

29.  
This said, retires; and now a lovely shame  
That she revealed so much, possessed her Cheeks;  
In a dark Lantern she would bear Love's flame,  
To hide herself, whilst she her Lover seeks.   

30.  
And to that Lover let our Song return▪  
Whose Tale so well was to her Father told,  
As the Philosopher did seem to mourn  
That Youth had reached such worth, and he so old.   

31.  
Yet Birtha was so precious in his Eyes,  
Her vanished Mother still so near his mind,  
That farther yet he thus his prudence tries,  
Ere such a Pledge he to his trust resigned.   

32.  
Whoere (said he) in thy first story looks,  
Shall praise thy wise conversing with the Dead;  
For with the Dead he lives, who is with Books,  
And in the Camp (Death's moving Palace) bred.   

20.  
Wise Youth, in books and battles early finds  
What thoughtless lazy Men perceive too late;  
Books show the utmost conquests of our Minds;  
Battles, the best of our loved Bodies fate.   

21.  
Yet this great breeding, joined with Kings high blood  
(Whose blood Ambition's fever over-heats)  
May spoil digestion, which would else be good,  
As stomaches are depraved with highest Meats.   

22.  
For though Books serve as Diet of the Mind,  
If knowledge, early got, self-value breeds,  
By false digestion it is turned to wind;  
And what should nourish, on the Eater feeds.   

23.  
Though Wars great shape best educates the sight,  
And makes small softening objects less our care;  
Yet War, when urged for glory, more than right,  
Shows Victors but authentic Murderers are.   

24.  
And I may fear that your last victories,  
Where Glory's Toils, and you will ill abide.  
(Since with new Trophies still you fed your Eyes)  
Those little objects which in Shades we hide.   

25.  
Could you in Fortune's smiles, foretell her frowns,  
Our old Foes slain, you would not hunt for new;  
But Victors, after wreaths, pretend at Crowns,  
And such think Rhodalind their Valour's due.   

26.  
To this the gentle Gondibert replies;  
Think not Ambition can my duty sway,  
look on Rhodalined with Subject's Eyes,  
Whom he that conquers, must in right obey.   

27.  
And though I humanely have heretofore  
All beauty liked, I never loved till now;  
Nor think a Crown can raise his value more,  
To whom already Heaven does Love allow.   

28.  
Though, since I gave the Hunns their last defeat,  
I have the Lombard's Ensigns outward led,  
Ambition kindled not this Victor's heat,  
But 'tis a warmth my Father's prudence bred.   

29.  
Who cast on more than Wolvish Man his Eye,  
Man's necessary hunger judged, and saw  
That caused not his devouring Malady;  
But like a wanton whelp he loves to gnaw.   

30.  
Man still is sick for power, yet that disease  
Nature (whose Law is Temperance) ne'er inspires;  
But 'tis a humour, does his Manship please,  
A luxury, fruition only tires.   

31.  
And as in persons, so in public States,  
The lust of Power provokes to cruel war;  
For wisest Senates it intoxicate,  
And makes them vain, as single persons are.   

32.  
Men into Nations it did first divide;  
Whilst place, scarce distant, gives them different styles;  
Rivers, whose breadth Inhabitants may stride,  
Parts them as much as Continents, and Isles.   

33.  
On equal, smooth, and undistinguished Ground,  
The lust of power does liberty impair,  
And limits by a border and a bound,  
What was before as passable as Air.   

34.  
Whilst change of Languages oft breeds a war,  
(A change which Fashion does as oft obtrude  
As women's dress) and oft Complexions are,  
And different names, no less a cause of fou●.   

35.  
Since Men so causelessly themselves devour,  
(And hastening still, their else too hasty Fates,  
Act but continued Massacres for power,)  
My Father meant to chastise Kings, and States.   

36.  
To overcome the world, till but one Crown▪  
And universal Neighbourhood he saw;  
Till all were rich by that alliance grown,  
And want no more should be the cause of Law.   

37.  
One family the world was first designed,  
And though some fight Kings so severed are,  
That they must meet by help of Seas and wind,  
Yet when they fight, 'tis but a civil war.   

38.  
Nor could Religions heat, if one ruled all,  
To bloody war the unconcerned allure;  
And hasten us from Earth, ere Age does call;  
Who are (alas) of Heaven so little sure.   

39  
Religion, ne'er till divers Monarchies,  
Taught that almighty Heaven needs Army's aid;  
But with contentious Kings she now complies,  
Who seem for their own cause, of God's afraid.   

40.  
To join all severed Powers (which is to end  
The cause of War) my Father onward fought;  
By war the Lombard Sceptre to extend  
Till peace were forced, where it was slowly sought.   

41.  
He lost in this attempt his last dear blood;  
And I (whom no remoteness can deter,  
If what seems difficult, be great and good)  
Thought his Example could not make me err.   

42.  
No place I merit in the Book of Fame!  
Whose leaves are by the Greeks and Romans filled;  
Yet I presume to boast, she knows my name,  
And she has heard to whom the Hunns did yield.   

43.  
But let not what so needfully was done,  
Though still pursued, make you ambition fear;  
For could I force all Monarchies to one,  
That Universal Crown I would not wear.   

44.  
He who does blindly ●oar at Rhodalind,  
Mounts like feeled Doves, still higher from his ease;  
And in the lust of Empire he may find,  
High Hope does better than Fruition please.   

45.  
The Victor's solid recompense is rest;  
And 'tis unjust, that Chiefs who pleasure eat,  
Toiling in Youth, should be in Age oppressed  
With greater Toils, by ruling what they won.   

46.  
Here all reward of conquest I would find,  
Leave shining Thrones for Birtha in a shade,  
With Nature's quiet wonders fill my mind;  
And praise her most, because she Birtha made.   

47.  
Now Astragon (with joy sufficed) perceived  
How nobly Heaven for Birtha did provide;  
O●t had he for her vanished Mother grieved,  
●ut ●an this joy, less than that sorrow hide.   

48.  
With tears, bids Gondibert to heavens Eye make  
All good within, as to the World he seems;  
And in gained Birtha then from Hymen take  
All youth can wish, and all his age esteems.   

49.  
Strait to his loved Philosophers he hies,  
Who now at Nature's Counsel busy are  
To trace new Lights, which some old Gazer spies,  
Whilst the Duke seeks more busily his Star.   

50.  
But in her search, he is by Goltho stayed,  
Who in a closely dark Covert folds his Arms;  
His Eyes with thought grow darker than that shade,  
Such thought as brow and breast with study warms.   

51.  
Fixed to unheeded object is his Eye▪  
His senses he calls in, as if t'improve  
By outward absence inward ecstasy,  
Such as makes Prophets, or is made by Love.   

52.  
Awake (said Gondibert) for now in vain  
Thou dreamest of sovereignty▪ and War's success;  
Hope, nought has left, which Worth should wish to gain;  
And all Ambition is but Hope's excess.   

53.  
Bid all our Worthies to unarm, and rest!  
For they have nought to conquer worth their care;  
I have a Father's right in Birtha's breast,  
And that's the peace for which the wise make war.   

54.  
At this starts Goltho, like some army's Chief,  
Whom unintrenched, a midnight Alarm wakes,  
By pause than gave disordered sense relief,  
And this reply with kindled passion makes:   

55.  
What means my Prince to learn so low a boast,  
Whose merit may aspire to Rhodalind?  
For who could Birtha miss if she were lost,  
That shall by worth the others treasure find?   

56.  
When your high blood, and conquests shall submit  
To such mean joys, in this unminded shade,  
Let Courts, without heavens Lamps, in darkness sit,  
And war become the lowly Shepherd's Trade.   

57  
Birtha, (a harmless Cottage Ornament!)  
May be his Bride, that's born himself to serve;  
But you must pay that blood your Anny spent,  
And wed that Empire which our wounds deserve.   

58.  
This brought the Duke's swi●t anger to his Eyes;  
Which his consid'rate Heart rebuked as fast;  
He Goltho chid, in that he nought replies;  
Leaves him, and Birtha seeks with Lover's haste.   

59  
Now Goltho mourns, yet not that Birtha's fair;  
Or that the Duke shuns Empire for a Bride,  
But that himself must join love to despair;  
Himself who loves her, and his love must hide.   

60.  
He cursed that him the wounded hither brought  
From Oswald's field; where though he wounds did scape  
In tempting Death, and here no danger sought,  
Yet here met worse than Death in Beauty's shape.   

61.  
He was unused to love, as bred in wars,  
And not till now for beauty leisure had;  
Yet bore Love's load, as Youth bea●s other C●res;  
Till now despair makes Love's old weight too ●ad.   

62.  
But Ulfinore, does hither aptly come,  
His second breast, in whom his griefs excess  
He may ebb out, when they o'erflow at home;  
Such griefs, as thus in Throngs for utterance press.   

63.  
Forgive me that so falsely am thy Friend!  
No more our Hearts for kindness shall contest;  
Since mine I hourly on another spend,  
And now embrace thee with an empty breast.   

64.  
Yet pardoning me, you cancel Nature's fault;  
Who walks with her first force in Birtha's shape,  
And when she spreads the Net to have us caught,  
It were in youth presumption to escape.   

65.  
When Birtha's grief so comely did appear,  
Whilst she beheld our wounded Duke's distress;  
Then first my altered Heart began to fear,  
Lest too much Love should friendship dispossess;   

66.  
But this whilst Ulfinore with sorrow hears,  
Him Goltho's busier sorrow little heeds;  
And though he could reply in sighs and tears,  
Yet governs both, and Goltho thus proceeds.   

67.  
To Love's new dangers I have gone unarmed;  
I lacked experience why to be afraid,  
Was too unlearned to read how Love had harmed,  
But have his will as Nature's law obeyed.   

68  
Th'obedient and defenceless, sure; no law  
Afflicts, for law is their defence, and power;  
Yet me, Loves sheep, whom rigour needs not awe,  
Wolf-Love, because defenceless, does devour:   

69.  
Gives me not time to perish by degrees,  
But with despair does me at once destroy;  
For none who Gondibert a Lover sees,  
Thinks he would love, but where he may enjoy.   

70.  
Birtha he loves; and I from Birtha fear  
Death that in rougher Figure I despise▪  
This Ulfinore did with distemper hear,  
Yet with dissembled temperance thus replies:   

71.  
Ah Goltho! who Love's Fever can assuage?  
For though familiar seems that old disease;  
Yet like Religion's fit, when People's rage,  
Few cure those evils which the Patient please.   

72.  
Nature's Religion, Love, is still perverse;  
And no commerce with cold discretion hath,  
For if Discretion speak when Love is fierce,  
'Tis waved by Love, as Reason is by Faith.   

73.  
As Gondibert left Goltho when he heard▪  
His Saint profaned, as if some Plague were nigh;  
So Goltho now leaves Ulfinore, and feared  
To share such vengeance, if he did not fly.   

74.  
How each at home ore-rates his misery,  
And thinks that all are musical abroad,  
Unfettered as the Winds, whilst only he  
Of all the glad and licenc'd world is awed?   

75.  
And as Caged Birds are by the Fowler set  
To call in more, whilst those that taken be,  
May think▪ (though they are Prisoners in the Net)  
Th'encaged, because they ne'er complain, are free.   

76.  
So Goltho (who by Ulfinore was brought  
Here where he first Love's dangers did perceive  
In beauty's Field) thinks though himself was caught,  
Th' inviter safe, because not heard to grieve.   

77.  
But Ulfinore (whom neighbourhood led here)  
Impressions took before from Birtha's sight;  
Ideas, which in silence hidden were,  
As heavens designs before the birth of Light.   

78.  
This from his Father Ulfin he did hide,  
Who, strict to Youth, would not permit the best  
Reward of worth, the Bosom of a Bride,  
Should be but after Virtuous toils possessed.   

79.  
For Ulfinore (in blooming honour yet)  
Though he had learned the countenance of the Foe,  
And though his courage could dull Armies whet,  
The care o'er Crowds, nor Conduct could not know;   

80.  
Nor vary Battles shapes in the Foes view;  
But now in foreign Fields means to improve  
His early Arts, to what his Father knew,  
That merit ●o might get him leave to love.   

81.  
Till then, checked passion, shall not venture forth:  
And now retires with a disordered Heart;  
Grieved, lest his Rival should by early'r worth  
Get Love's reward, ere he can gain desert.   

82.  
But stop we here, like those who daylight lack;  
Or as misguided Travellers that rove,  
Oft find their way by going somewhat back;  
So let's return, thou ill conductor Love▪   

83.  
Thy little Grecian Godhead as my Guide  
I have attended many a Winter night;  
To seek whom Time for honour's sake would hide,  
Since in mine age sought by a wasted light:   

84.  
But ere my remnant of Life's Lamp be spent,  
Whilst I in labyrinths stray amongst the Dead;  
I mean to recollect the paths I went▪  
And judge from thence the steps I am to tread.   

85.  
Thy walk (though as a common Deity  
The Crowd does follow thee) mysterious grows:  
For Rhodalind may now closely Mourner die,  
Since Gondibert, too late, her sorrow knows.   

86.  
Young Hurgonil above dear light prefers  
Calm Orna, who his highest Love out-loves;  
Yet envious Clouds in Lombard Registers  
O'ercast their Morn, what ere their Evening proves.   

87.  
For fatal Laura trusty Tybalt pines;  
For haughty Gartha, subtle Hermegild;  
Whilst she her beauty, youth, and birth declines;  
And as to Fate, does to Ambition yield.   

88  
Great Gondibert, to bashful Birtha bends;  
Whom she adores like Virtue in a Throne;  
Whilst Ulfinore, and Goltho (late vowed Friends  
By him) are now his Rivals, and their own.   

89.  
Through ways thus intricate to Lover's Urns,  
Thou leadest me, Love, to show thy Trophies past;  
Where time (less cruel than thy Godhead) mourns  
In ruins, which thy pride would have to last.   

90.  
Where I on Lombard Monuments have read  
Old Lovers names, and their famed Ashes spied;  
But less can learn by knowing they are dead,  
And such their Tombs; than how they lived and died.   

91.  
To Paphos fly! and leave me sullen here!  
This Lamp shall light me to Records, which give  
To future Youth, so just a cause of fear,  
That it will Valour seem to dare to live.    
The End of the Second Book.   

GONDIBERT. The Third Book.  
Written by the Author during his Imprisonment.  

CANTO the First.  
The ARGUMENT.  

The People, left by GARTHA, leave to mourn;  
And worship HERMEGILD for her return.  
The wounded HURGONIL by ORNA cured:  
Their loyal loves by marriage plight assured.  
In LAURA'S hasty change, Love's power appears,  
And TYBALT seeks the kindness which he fears.   

1.  
WHen sad Verona saw in Gartha's shape (praised;  
Departed Peace brought back, the Court they  
And seemed so joyed as Cities which escape  
A Siege, even by their own brave Sallies raised.   

2.  
And Hermegild, to make her triumph long,  
Through all the streets his Chariot slowly drove;  
Whilst she endures the kindness of the Throng,  
Though rude, as was their rage, is now their love.   

3.  
On Hermegild (so longingly desired  
From Hubert's Camp) with Childish Eyes they gaze;  
They worship now, what late they but admired,  
And all his Arts to mighty Magic raise.   

4.  
On both they such a 〈…〉 t Bl●●●ings throw,  
As if those numerous Priests who here reside,  
(Loath to outlive this joy) assembled now  
In haste to bless the laiety e'r● they ●yd▪.   

5.  
Thus dignifyed, and ●rown'd through all the Streets  
To Court they come; where them wi●e Aribert  
Not weakly with a public passion meets;  
But in his opened Face concealed his heart.   

6.  
With moderate joy he took this Pledge of Peace,  
Because great joys infer to judging Eyes▪  
The mind distressed before; and in distress,  
Thrones, which are jealous Forts, think all are Spies.   

7.  
Yet, by degrees, a Soul delighted shows  
To Gartha, whom he leads to Rhodalind;  
And soon to Hermegild as artless grows  
As Maids, and like successful Lovers kind.   

8.  
And Rhodalind, though bred to daily sight  
Of Courts feigned Faces, and pretended hearts,  
(In which disguises Courts take no delight,  
But little mischiefs shun by little Arts.)   

9  
She, when she Gartha●aw ●aw, no kindness feigned;  
But faithfully her former rage excused;  
For now she others sorrows entertained,  
As if to love, a Maid's first sorrow used,   

10.  
Yet did her first with cautious gladness meet;  
Then soon from grave respect to fondness grew;  
To kisses in their taste and odour sweet,  
As Hybla Hony, or Arabian Dew.   

11.  
And Gartha like an Eastern Monarch's Bride,  
This public love with bashful homage took,  
For she had learned from Hermegild to hide  
A rising Heart, behind a falling Look.   

12.  
Thus, masked with meekness, she does much entreat  
A pardon for that Storm her sorrow raised;  
Which Rhodalind more fues she would forget,  
Unless to have so just a sorrow praised.   

13.  
Soon is this joy through all the Court dispersed;  
So high they value peace, who daily are  
In Pride's invasions, private faction, versed;  
The small, but fruitful seed of public war.   

14.  
Whilst thus sweet Peace had others joys assured,  
Orna with hopes of sweeter Love was pleased;  
For of war's wounds brave Hurgonil was cured;  
And those of love, which deeper reached, were ●as'd.   

15.  
In both these cures her sovereign help appears,  
Since as her double Patient he received  
For War's wounds, Balm, dropped in her precious tears,  
And Love's, her more accepted vows, relieved.   

16.  
She let no medc'nal Flower in quiet grow,  
No Art lie hid, nor Artist ease his thought,  
No Fane be shut, no Priest from Altars go,  
Nor in heavens Choir no Saint remain unsought,   

17.  
Nor more her Eyes could ease of sleep esteem  
Than sleep can the world's Eye, the Sun, conceal;  
Nor breathed she but in vows to Heaven, or him,  
Till Heaven, and she, his different wounds did heal.   

18.  
But now she needs those aids she did dispense;  
For scarce her cures were on him perfect grown,  
ere shame afflicts her for that diligence,  
Which Love had in her fits of pity shown.   

19  
When she (though made of shunning bashfulness)  
Whilst him in wounds a smarting Fever burned,  
Invoked remotest aids to his redress,  
And with a loud ungoverned kindness mourned.   

20.  
When o'er him then, whilst parting life She rued,  
Her kisses saster (though unknown before)  
Than Blossoms fall on parting Spring, she strewed;  
Than Blossoms sweeter, and in number more.   

21.  
But now when from her busy Maid she knew  
How wildly Grief had led her Love abroad,  
Unmasked to all, she her own Prisoner grew;  
By shame, a Virgin's Native Conscience, awed.   

22.  
With undirected Eyes which careless rove,  
With thoughts too singly to herself confined,  
She blushing starts at her remembered love,  
And grieus the world had Eyes, when that was blind.   

23.  
Sad darkness, which does other Virgin's fright,  
Now boldly and alone, she entertained;  
And shuns her Lover, like the Traitor, light,  
Till he her curtains drew, and thus complained.   

24.  
Why, bashful Maid, will you your beauty hide,  
Because your fairer Mind, your Love, is known?  
So Jewellers conceal with artful pride  
Their second wealth, after the best is shown.   

25.  
In pity's passion you unveiled your mind;  
Let him not fall, whom you did help to climb;  
Nor seem by being bashful so unkind,  
As if you think your pity was a crime.   

26.  
O useless shame! Officious bashfulness!  
Virtues vain sign, which only there appears  
Where Virtue grows erroneous by excess,  
And shapes more sins, than frighted Conscience fears.   

27.  
Your blushes, which to mere complexion grow,  
You must, as Nature, not as Virtue own;  
And for your opened Love, you but blush so  
As guiltless Roses blush that they are blown.   

28.  
As well the Morn (whose essence Poets made,  
And gave her bashful Eyes) we may believe  
Does blush for what she sees through Night's thin shade,  
As that you can for love discovered grieve.   

29.  
Arise! and all the Flowers of every Mead  
(Which weeping through your Stills my health restored)  
●ring to the Temple to adorn your Head,  
And there where you did worship, be adored.   

30.  
●his with a low regard (but voice raised high  
By joys of Love) he spoke; and not less kind  
●as now (ent'ring with native harmony,  
Like forward spring) the blooming Rhodalind:   

31.  
●●ke Summer, goodly Gartha, fully blown;  
Laura, like Autumn, with as ripe a look;  
●●t showed, by some i'll griefs, her Sun was gone,  
Arnold, from whom she Life's short glory took.   

32.  
Like Winter, Hermegild; yet not so grey  
And cold, but that his fashion seemed to boast,  
That even weak Winter is allowed some day,  
And the Air clear, and healthful in a Frost.   

33.  
All these, and Tybalt too (unless a Spy  
He be, watching who thrives in Laura's sight)  
Came hither, as in kind conspiracy,  
To hasten Orna to her marriage plight.   

34.  
And now the Priests prepare for this high vow  
All Rites that to their Laws can add a grace;  
To which the sequent knot they not allow,  
Till a spent Morn recovers all her Face.   

35.  
And now the streets like Summer Me●ds appear!  
For with sweet strew Maids left Gardens bare,  
As Lovers wish their sweeter Bosoms were,  
When hid unkindly by does▪ shevelled Hair.   

36.  
And Orna now (importuned to possess▪  
Her long wished joys) breaks through her blushes so,  
As the fair Morn breaks through her rosyness;  
And from a like guilt did their blushes grow.   

37.  
She thinks her Love's high sickness now appears  
A fit so weak, as does no medicine need;  
So soon society can cure those fears  
On which the Coward, Solitude, does feed.   

38.  
They with united joy blest Hurgonil  
And Orna to the sacred Temple bring;  
Whilst all the Court in triumph show their Skill,  
As if long bred by a triumphant King.   

39  
Such days of joy, before the marriage day,  
The L●●bards long by custom had embraeed;  
Custom, which all, rather than Law obey,  
For Laws by force, Customs, by pleasure last.   

40.  
And wisely Ancients by this needful snare  
Of guilded joys, did hide such bitterness  
As most in marriage swallow with that care,  
Which bashfully the wise will ne'er confess.   

41.  
'Tis Sates-mens' music, who States Fowle●s be,  
And singing Birds, to catch the wilder, set;  
So bring in more to tame society;  
For wedlock, to the wild, is the States Net.   

42.  
And this loud joy, before the marriage Rites,  
Like Battles Music which to fights prepare,  
Many to strife and sad success invites;  
For marriage is too oft but civil war.   

43.  
A truth too amply known to those who read  
Great Hymen's Rolls; though he from Lovers Eyes  
Hides his most Tragic stories of the Dead,  
Lest all, like Goths, should against his Temples rise.   

44.  
And thou (what ere thou art, who dost perchance  
With a hot Reader's haste, this Song pursue)  
May'st find, too soon, thou dost too far advance,  
And wish it all unread, or else untrue.   

45.  
For it is sung (though by a mourning voice)  
That in the Ides before these Lovers had,  
With Hymen's public hand, confirmed their choice,  
A cruel practice did their peace invade.   

46.  
For Hermegild, too studiously foresaw  
The Count's alliànce with the Duke's high blood,  
Might from the Lombard's such affection draw,  
As could by Hubert never be withstood.   

47.  
And he in haste with Gartha does retire,  
Where thus his breast he opens to preyent,  
That Hymen's hallowed Torch may not take fire,  
When all these lesser lights of joy are spent.   

48.  
High Heaven (from whose best Lights your beauty grows,  
Born high, as highest Minds) preserve you still  
From such, who then appears resistless Foes,  
When they alliance join to Arms and Skill!   

49.  
Most by conjunction Planets harmful are;  
So Rivers joining overflow the Land,  
And Forces joined make that destructive war,  
Which else our common conduct may withstand.   

50.  
Their Knees to Hurgonil the People bow  
And worship Orna in her Brother's right;  
They must be severed, or like Palms will grow,  
Which planted near, out-climb their native height.   

51.  
As Winds, whose violence outdoes all art,  
Act all unseen: so we as secretly  
These branches of that Cedar Gondibert  
Must force, till his deep Root in rising die.   

52.  
If we make noise whilst our deep workings last,  
Such rumour through thick Towns unheeded flies,  
As winds through woods, and we (our great work passed)  
Like winds will silence Tongues, and scape from Eyes.   

53.  
Ere this dark lesson she was clearer taught,  
His entered Slaves place at her rev'renced Feet  
A spacious Cabinet, with all things fraught,  
Which seemed for wearing artful, rich, and sweet.   

54.  
With leisurely delight, she by degrees  
Lifts every Till, does every Drawer draw,  
But nought which to her Sex belongs she sees;  
And for the Male all nice adornments saw.   

55.  
This seemed to breed some strangeness in her Eyes,  
Which like a wanton wonder there began;  
But strait she in the lower Closet spies  
Th'accomplished dress, and Garments of a Man.   

56.  
Then starting, she her Hand shrunk nicely back,  
As if she had been stung; or that she feared  
This Garment was the skin of that old Snake,  
Which at the fatal Tree like Man appeared.   

57  
Th'ambitious Maid at scornful distance stood,  
And bravely seemed of Love's low vices free;  
Though vicious in her mind, not in her blood:  
Ambition is the Minds immodesty!   

58.  
He knew great minds disordered by mistake,  
Defend through pride, the errors they repent;  
And with a Lover's fearfulness he spoke  
Thus humbly, that extremes he might prevent.   

59  
How ill (delightful Maid!) shall I deserve  
My Life's last flame, fed by your beauty's fire,  
If I shall vex your virtues, that preserve  
Others weak virtues, which would else expire.   

60.  
How, more than death, shall I my life despise,  
When your feared srowns, make me your service fear;  
When I scarce dare to say, that the disguise  
You shrink to see, you must vouchsafe to wear.   

61.  
So rude a Law your interest will impose;  
And solid interest must not yield to shame:  
Vain shame, which fears you should such honour lose,  
As lasts but by intelligence with Fame.   

62.  
Number, which makes opinion Law, can turn  
This shape to fashion, which you scorn to use,  
Because not by your Sex as fashion worn;  
And fashion is but that which Numbers choose.   

63.  
If you approve what Numbers lawful think,  
Be bold, for Number cancels bashfulness;  
Extremes, from which a King would blushing shrink,  
Unblushing Senate's act as no excess.   

64.  
Thus he his thoughts (the picture of his mind)  
By a dark vail to sudden sight denied;  
That she might prize, what seemed so hard to find;  
For Curtains promise worth in what they hide.   

65.  
He said her Manhood would not strange appear  
In Court, where all the fashion is disguise;  
Where Masquerades are serious all the year,  
None known but strangers, nor secure but Spies.   

66.  
All rules he reads of living great in Courts,  
Which some the Art of wise dissembling call;  
For Power (born to have Foes) much weight supports  
By their false strength who thrust to make it fall.   

67.  
He bids her wear her beauty free as light;  
By Ears as open be to all endeared;  
For the unthinking Crowd judge by their sight,  
And seem half eased, when they are fully heard.   

68  
He shuts her breast even from familiar Eyes;  
For he who secrets (Powers chief Treasure) spends  
To purchase Friendship, friendship dearly buys:  
Since Power seeks great confederates, more than friends.   

69.  
And now with Counsels more particular,  
He taught her how to wear towards Rhodalind  
Her looks, which of the Mind false pictures are,  
And then how Orna may believe her kind.   

70.  
How Laura too may be (whose practised Eyes  
Can more detect the shape of forward love)  
By treaty caught, though not by a surprise;  
Whose aid would precious to her faction prove.   

71.  
But here he ends his Lecture, for he spied  
(Adorned, as if to grace Magnific Feasts)  
Bright Rhodalind, with the elected Bride;  
And with the Bride, all her selected Guests.   

72.  
They Gartha in their civil pity sought,  
Whom they in midst of triumphs missed, and fear  
Lest her full breast (with Hubert's sorrows fraught)  
She, like a Mourner, came to empty here.   

73.  
But she, and Hermegild, are wild with haste,  
As Traitors are whom Visitants surprise;  
Decyphring that which searfully they cast  
In some dark place, where worse Treason lies.   

74.  
So open they the fatal Cabinet,  
To shut things slighter with the Consequent;  
Then soon their rallied looks in posture set;  
And boldly with them to their triumphs went.   

75.  
Tybalt, who Laura gravely ever led,  
With ceaseless whispers laggs behind the Train;  
Tries, since her wary Governor is dead,  
How the fair Fort he may by Treaty gain.   

76.  
For now unhappy Arnold she forsakes;  
Yet he is blest that she does various prove,  
When his spent heart for no unkindness aches;  
Since from the Light as severed as from Love.   

77.  
Yet as in storms and sickness newly gone,  
Some Clouds a while, and strokes of faintness last;  
So, in her brow, so much of grief is shown,  
As shows a Tempest, or a sickness past.   

78.  
But him no more with such sad Eyes she seeks,  
As even at Feasts would make old Tyrants weep;  
Nor more attempts to wake him with such shreek●▪  
As threatened all where Death's deaf Prisoners 〈…〉▪   

79.  
Hugo and him, as Leaders 〈…〉▪  
Not much as Lovers does their ●ame approve;  
Nor her own fate, but chance of battle blames;  
As if they died for honour, not for love.   

80.  
This Tybalt saw, and finds that the turned Stream  
Came fairly flowing to refresh his heart;  
Yet could he not forget the kind esteem  
She lately had of Arnold's high desert.   

81.  
Nor does it often scape his memory,  
How gravely he had vowed, that if her Eyes,  
After such Showers of Love, were quickly dry,  
He would them more than Lamps in Tombs despise.   

82.  
And Whilst he watched like an industrious Spy  
Her Sex's changes, and revolt of Youth;  
He still revived this vow as solemnly,  
As Senate's Countenance Laws or Synods, Truth.   

83.  
But men are frail, more Glass than Women are!  
Tybalt who with a stayed judicious heart  
Would love, grows vain amidst his gravest care:  
Love, free by nature, scorns the Bonds of Art!   

84.  
Laura (whose Fort he by approach would gain)  
With a weak sigh blows up his Mine, and Smiles;  
Gives fire but with her Eye, and he is slain;  
Or treats, and with a whisper him beguiles.   

85.  
Nor force of Arms or Arts (O Love!) endures  
Thy mightiness; and since we must discern  
Diseases fully ere we study cures;  
And our own force by oaths, weakness learn;   

86.  
Let me to Courts and Camps thy Agent be,  
Where all their weakness and diseases spring  
From their not knowing, and not honouring thee  
In those who Nature in thy triumphs sing.    

CANTO the Second.  
The ARGUMENT.  

Whilst BIRTHA and the Duke their joys pursue  
In conquering Love, Fate doth them both subdue  
With triumphs, which from Court young ORGO brought;  
And have in GOLTHO greater triumphs wrought:  
Whose hopes the quiet ULFINORE does bear  
With patience feigneed, and with a hidden fear.   

1.  
THe prosperous Gondibert from Birtha gains  
All bashful plights a Maids first bounties give;  
Fast vows, which bind Love's Captives more than chains,  
Yet free Love's Saints in chosen bondage live.   

2.  
Few were the days, and swiftly seemed to waste,  
Which thus he in his mind's ●tuition spent;  
And lest some envious Cloud should overcast  
His love's fair Morn, oft to his Camp he sent   

3.  
To Bergamo, where still entrenched were  
Those Youth, whom first his Father's Army bred;  
Who ill the rumour of his wounds did bear,  
Though he that gave them, of his own be dead.   

4.  
And worse those haughty threatenings they abhor,  
Which Fame, from Brescia's ancient Fighters brought;  
Vain Fame, the People's trusted Orator,  
Whose speech (too fluent) their mistakes has wrought.   

5.  
Oft Goltho with his temperate Counsels went,  
To quench whom Fame to dangerous fury warmed;  
Till temp'rately his dangers they resent,  
And think him safest in their patience armed.   

6.  
And safe now is his love, as love could be,  
If all the World like old Arcadia were;  
Honour the Monarch, and all Lovers free  
From jealousy, as safety is from fear.   

7.  
And Birtha's heart does to his civil Breast  
As much for ease and peace, as safety, come;  
For there 'tis served and treated as a Guest,  
But watched, and taught, and often chid at home.   

8.  
Like great and good confederates, whose design  
Invades not others, but secures their own:  
So they in just and virtuous hopes combine,  
And are, like new confederates, busy grown.   

9  
With whisper earnest, and now grave with thought  
They walk consulting, standing they debate;  
And then seek shades, where they in vain are sought,  
By servants who intrude, and think they wait.   

10.  
In this great League, their most important care  
Was to dispatch their Rites; Yet so provide,  
That all the Court might think them free as air,  
When fast as faith, they were by Hymen tied.   

11.  
For if the King (said he) our love surprise,  
His stormy rage will it Rebellion call;  
Who claims to choose the Brides of his Allies;  
And in that storm our joys in blossom fall.   

12.  
Our love, your cautious Father, only knows  
(On whose safe prudence, Senates may depend)  
And Golth●, who to time few reckon owes,  
Yet can discharge all duties of a Friend.   

13.  
Such was his mind, and hers (more busy) shows  
That bonds of love does make her longer fast  
Than Hymen's knot, as plain Religion does,  
Longer than Rites (Religion's fashions) last.   

14.  
That her discretion somewhat does appear,  
Since she can Love, her minds chief beauty, hide;  
Which never farther went than Thula's Ear,  
Who had (alas) but for that secret died.   

15.  
That she already had disguises framed,  
And sought out Caves where she might closely reside;  
As being, nor unwilling nor ashamed  
To live his Captive, so she die his Bride.   

16.  
Full of themselves, delight them onward leads,  
Where in the Front was to remoter view  
Exalted Hills, and nearer prostrate Meads,  
With Forests flanked, where shade to darkness grew.   

17.  
Beneath that shade, Two Rivers slily steal,  
Through narrow walks, to wider Adice,  
Who swallows both, till she does proudly swell,  
And hasts to show her beauty to the Sea.   

18.  
And here, whilst forth he sends his raging Eye,  
Orgo he spies, who plies the spur so fast,  
As if with news of victory he would fly  
To leave swift Fame behind him by his haste.   

19  
If (said the Duke) because the Boy is come,  
I second gladness show, do not suppose  
I spread my Breast to give new Comforts room,  
That were to welcome rain where Nilus flows.   

20.  
Though the unripe appearance of a Page  
For weighty trust, may render him too weak,  
Yet this is he, who more than cautious Age,  
Or like calm Death, will bury what we speak.   

21.  
This, Birtha, is the Boy, whose skilless face  
Is safe from jealousy of oldest spies;  
In whom, by whisper, we from distant place  
May meet, or wink our meaning to his Eyes.   

22.  
More had he said to gain him her esteem,  
But Orgo enters speechless with his Speed;  
And by his looks more full of haste did seem,  
Than when his spurs provoked his flying Steed.   

23.  
And with his first recovered breath he cries,  
Hail my loved Lord, whom Fame does value so,  
That when she swift with your successes ●●ies,  
She fears to wrong the World in being flow.   

24.  
I bring you more than tastes of Fortune's love,  
Yet am afraid I err, in ha●ing dared  
To think her favours could your gladness move;  
Who have more worth than Fortune can reward.   

25.  
The Duke, with smiles, forewarns his hasty Tongue;  
As loath he should proceed in telling more;  
Kindly afraid to do his kindness wrong,  
By hearing what he thought he knew before.   

26.  
Thy diligence (said he) is high desert;  
It does in Youth supply defects of skill;  
And is of duty the most useful part;  
Yet art thou now but slow to Hurgonil.   

27.  
Who hither by the Moons imperfect light  
Came and returned, without the help of day,  
To tell me he has Orna's Virgin plight,  
And that their Nuptials for my presence stay.   

28.  
Orgo replied, though that a triumph be  
Where all false Lovers are, like savage Kings,  
Led Captive after Love's great Victory,  
It does but promise what your triumph brings.   

29.  
It was the Eve to this your Holiday,  
And now Verona Mishess does appear  
Of Lombardy; and all the Flowers which May  
E'er wore, does as the country's favours wear.   

30.  
The weary Echo from the Hills makes hastes  
Vexed that the Bells still calls for her replies  
When they so many are, and ring so fast;  
Yet oft are silenced by the People's cries:   

31.  
Who send to Heaven the name of Rh●dalind,  
And then Duke Gondibert as high they raise,  
To both with all their public passion kind,  
If kindness shine in wishes and in praise.   

32.  
The King this day made your adoption known,  
Proclaimed you to the Empire next allied,  
As heir to all his Conquests and his Crown,  
For royal Rhodalind must be your Bride.   

33.  
Not all the dangers valour finds in war,  
Love meets in Courts, or pride to Courts procures,  
When sick with Peace the hot in Faction are,  
Can make such fears as now the Duke endures.   

34.  
Nor all those fears which every Maid has found,  
On whose first Guards, Love by surprises steals,  
(Whose sightless Arrow makes a c●reless wound)  
Are like to this which doubtful Birtha feels.   

35.  
He from his looks wild wonder strives to chase;  
Strives more to teach his Manhood to resist  
Death in her Eyes, and then with all the grace  
Of seeming pleasure, Orgo he dismissed.   

36.  
And Orgo being gone, low as her knees  
Could fall, she fell; and soon he bends as low  
With weight of heart; grieved that no Grave he sees,  
To sink, where love no more can sorrow know.   

37.  
Her sighs as showers lay winds, are calmed with tears;  
And parting life seems stayed awhile to take  
A civil leave, whilst her pale visage wears  
A clearie Sky, and thus she weeping spoke.   

38.  
Since such a Prince has forfeited his power,  
Heaven give me leave to make my duty less,  
Let me my vows, as sudden oaths abhor,  
Which did my passion, not my truth express.   

39  
Yet yours I would not think were counterfeit,  
But rather ill and rashly understood;  
For 'tis impossible I can forget  
So soon, that once you fatally were good.   

40.  
Though cruel now as Beasts where they have power;  
Choosing, like them to make the weakest bleed;  
For weakness soon invites you to devour,  
And a submission gives you ease to feed.   

41.  
To fight Fields, send all your honour back,  
To Courts your dangerous Tongue and civil shape,  
That Country Maids may Men no more mistake,  
Nor seek dark Death, that they may Love escape.   

42.  
Now soon to Heaven her Soul had found the way,  
(For there it o●t had been in prayer and praise)  
But that his vows did life with loudness stay,  
And life's warm help did soon her Body raise.   

43.  
And now he gently leads her; for no more  
He lets th'unhallow'd Ground a fal● Flow'● wear,  
Sweeter than Nature's Bosom ever wore;  
And now these vows sends kindly to her E●r.   

44.  
If (Birtha) I am false, think none too blame  
For thinking Truth (by which the Soul subsists▪)  
No farther to be found than in the name;  
Think humane kind betrayed even by their Priests.   

45.  
Think all my Sex so vile, that you may chide  
Those Maids who to your Mother's Nuptials run;  
And praise your Mother who so early died,  
Remembering whom she married was a Man.   

46.  
This great Court miracle you straight receive  
From Orgo, and your faith the whole allows;  
Why since you Orgo's words so soon believe▪  
Will you less civilly suspect my vows?   

47.  
My Vows, which want the Temples seal, will bind  
(Though private kept) surer than public Laws;  
For Laws but source the Body, but my Mind  
Your Virtue Counsels, whilst your beauty draws.   

48.  
Thus spoke he, but his mourning looks did more  
Attest▪ his grief, and fear does hers renew;  
Now losing (were he lost) more than before,  
For than she feared him false, now thinks him true.   

49.  
As sick Physicians seldom their own Art  
Dare trust to cure their own disease; so these  
Were to themselves quite useless, when apart;  
Yet by consult, each can the other ease.   

50.  
But from themselves they now diverted stood;  
For Orgo's News (which need not borrow wings,  
Since Orgo for his Lord believed it good▪)  
To Astragon the joyful Household brings.   

51.  
But Astragon, with a judicious thought,  
This days glad news took in the dire portent;  
A day, which mourning Nights to Birtha brought;  
And with that fear in search of Birtha went.   

52.  
And here he finds her in her Lover's Eyes,  
And him in hers; both more afflicted grown  
At his approach; for each his sorrow spies;  
Who thus would counsel theirs, and hide his own.   

53.  
Though much this fatal joy to anger moves,  
Yet reason's aids shall anger's force subdue;  
I will not chide you for your hasty Loves,  
Nor ever doubt (great Prince) that yours is true.   

54.  
In chiding Love, because he hasty was,  
Or urging errors, which his swiftness brings,  
I find effects, but dare not tax the cause;  
For Poets were inspired, who gave him wings.   

55.  
When low I dig, where desart-Rivers run,  
Dive deep in Seas, through Forests follow winds,  
Or reach with Optic Tubes the ragged Moon,  
My sight no cause of Love's swift motion finds.   

56.  
Love's fatal haste, in yours, I will not blame,  
Because I know not why his wings were given;  
Nor doubt him true, not knowing whence he came,  
Nor Birtha chide, who thought you came from Heaven.   

57  
If you lay snares, we err when we escape;  
Since evil practice learns Men to suspect  
Where falsehood is, and in your noble shape,  
We should by finding it, our skill detect.   

58.  
Yet both your griefs I'll chide, as ignorance;  
Call you unthankful; for your great griefs show  
That Heaven has never used you to mischance,  
Yet rudely you repine to feel it now.   

59  
If your contextures be so weak, and nice,  
Weep that this windy world you ever knew;  
You are not in those Calms of Paradise,  
Where slender Flowers as safe as Cedars grew.   

60.  
This which your Youth calls grief, was frowardness  
In flattered Infancy, and as you bear  
Unkindly now amidst Youth's joys distress,  
So then, unless still rocked, you froward were.   

61.  
Griefs conflicts gave these Hairs their silver shine;  
(Torn Ensigns which victorious Age adorn)  
Youth is a Dress too garish, and too fine  
To be in foul tempestuous weather worn.   

62.  
Grief's want of use does dangerous weakness make;  
But we by use of Burdens are made strong;  
And in our practised Age can calmly take  
Those sorrows, which like Fevers, vex the young.   

63.  
When you in Love's fair Books (which Poets keep)  
Read what they hide, his Tragic History,  
You will rejoice that half your time is sleep,  
And smile at Love when Nature bids you die.   

64.  
Learn then that Love's diseases common are;  
Do not in sickness known (though new to you)  
Whilst vital hear does last, of cure despair:  
Love's vital heat does last, whilst Love is true.   

65.  
Thus spoke the kind and prudent Astragon:  
And much their kind impatience he appeased,  
For of his griefs (which heavier than their own  
Were born by both) their duteous fears are eased.   

66.  
She begs that he would pardon her distress,  
Thought that even sin which did her sorrows move;  
And then with all her Mother's lowliness,  
His pardon craves for ask leave to love.   

67.  
The Duke who saw fair Truth so undisguised,  
And love in all, but love so unconcerned,  
Pitied the studious world, and all despised  
Who did not here unlearn, what they had learned.   

68  
I am reformed (said he) not that before  
I wanted love, or that my love was ill;  
But I have learned to perfect Nature more  
By giving innocence a little skill.   

69.  
For 'tis some skill in innocence to bear  
With temper the distempers of our Stars;  
Not doubting griefs already come by fear  
Of more, for fears but hasten threatened Wars.   

70.  
But we will bravely suffer to inure  
Our strength to weights against the new are laid;  
That when 'tis known how much we can endure,  
Our sufferings may make our Foes afraid.   

71.  
This Comet Glory shines but in portent;  
Which from the Court does send her threatening Beams;  
And looks as if it were by malice meant  
To hasten Oswald's Faction to extremes.   

72.  
Since Hurgonil, who just foreran the Boy  
Could not instruct us, we as much may know  
Of the first Light, as of these fires of joy;  
Which is, that both did out of darkness grow.   

73.  
Yet this the King might hide in Kingly skill,  
Wisely to make his bounty more his own:  
Kings stoop for Counsel, who impart their will;  
His Acts, like heavens, make not their Causes known.   

74.  
Yet with as plain a heart as love untaught  
In Birtha wears, I here to Birtha make  
A vow, that Rhodalind I never sought,  
Nor now would with her love her greatness take.   

75.  
Love's bonds are for her greatness made too strait;  
And me Ambition's pleasures cannot please;  
Even Priests, who on the higher Altar wait;  
Think a continued reverence loss of ease.   

76.  
Let us with secrecy our love protect;  
Hiding such precious wealth from public view;  
The proffered glory I will first suspect  
As false, and shun it when I find it true.   

77.  
They now retire, because they Goltho saw,  
Who hither came to watch with Ulfinore  
If much the Duke's wooed Mistress did him awe;  
Since love wooed him, and in the shape of Power.   

78.  
But when he marked that he did from them move  
With sudden shyness, he supposed it shame  
Of being seen in chase of Birtha's love;  
As if above it grown since Orgo came.   

79.  
Goltho by nature was of Music made,  
Cheerful as Victor's warm in their success;  
He seemed like Birds created to be glad,  
And nought but love could make him taste distress.   

80.  
Hope, which our cautious Age scarce entertains,  
Or as a flatterer gives her cold respect,  
He runs to meet, invites her, and complains  
Of one hours' absence as a years neglect.   

81.  
Hope, the world's welcome, and his standing Guest,  
Fed by the Rich, but feasted by the Poor;  
Hope, that did come in triumph to his breast,  
He thus presents in boast to Ulfinore.   

82.  
Well may I (Friend) auspicious Love adore,  
Seeing my mighty Rival takes no pride  
To be with Birtha seen; and he before  
(Thou know'st) enjoined that I his love should hide.   

83.  
Nor do I break his trust when 'tis revealed  
To thee, since we are now so much the same,  
That when from thee, it is from me concealed,  
For we admit no difference but in name.   

84.  
But be it still from every other Ear  
Preserved, and strictly by our mutual vow:  
His Laws are still to my obedience dear,  
Who was my Gen'ral, though my Rival now.   

85.  
And well thou know'st how much mine Eyes did melt  
When our great Leader they did first perceive  
Love's Captive led; whose sorrows then I felt,  
Though now for greater of mine own I grieve.   

86.  
Nor do I now by love in duty err;  
For if I get what he would fain possess,  
Then he a Monarch is, and I prefer  
Him who undoes the world in being less.   

87.  
When Heaven (which hath preferred me to thy breast  
Where Friendship is enthroned) shall make it known  
That I am worth thy love, which is expressed  
By making Heavenly Birtha all mine own.   

88  
Then at this quiet Eden thou wilt call,  
And stay a while, to mark if Love's praised Plant  
Have after Spring a ripeness, and a Fall,  
Or never of the first abundance want.   

89.  
And I shall tell thee then if Poets are  
In using Beauty's Pencil false, or blind;  
For they have Birtha drawn but sweet and fair;  
Styles of her Face, the Curtain of her Mind!   

90.  
And thou at parting shalt her picture wear,  
For Nature's honour, not to show my pride;  
Try if like her, the teeming World does bear,  
Then bring that Copy hither for thy Bride.   

91.  
And they shall love as quietly as we;  
Their Beauty's power no civil War will raise;  
But flourish, and like neighbouring Flowers agree;  
Unless they kindly quarrel in our praise.   

92.  
Then we for change will leave such luscious peace;  
In Camps their Favours shall our Helms adorn;  
For we can no way else our joys increase,  
But by beholding theirs at our return.   

93.  
Thus clothed in Feathers, he●on Steeples walks;  
Not guessing yet, that silent Ulfinore,  
Had studied her of whom he loosely talks,  
And what he likes, did solidly adore.   

94.  
But Ulfinore with cold discretion awed  
His passion, and did grave with Love become;  
Though youthfully he sent his Eyes abroad,  
Yet kept with manly care, his Tongue at home.   

95.  
These Rival's hopes, he did with patience hear;  
His countenance not uneasy seemed, nor strange;  
Yet meant his cares should more like Love appear,  
If in the Duke Ambition bred a change.   

96.  
But as the Duke shunned them for secrecy,  
So now they from approaching Org● move,  
Made by Discretion (Love's strict Tutor) shy,  
Which is to Lovers painful as their Love.   

97.  
But Orgo they did ill suspect, whose Youth  
And nature yielded Lovers no offence;  
Used by his Lord for kindness and for truth;  
Both native in him as his innocence:   

98.  
And here passed by in haste, to Court employed,  
That Birtha may no more have cause to mourn:  
Full was his little Breast, and overjoyed  
That much depended on his quick return!   

99  
Many like Orgo, in their Manhood's Morn,  
As Pages, did the Noble Duke attend;  
The Sons of Chiess, whom beauty did adorn,  
And fairer Virtue did that beauty mend.   

100  
These in his Heroe's Schools he bred (which were  
In Peace his Palace, and in War his Tent)  
As if Time's self had read sage Lecture there  
How he would have his hours (Life's Treasure) spent.   

101.  
No action, though to shorten dreaded war,  
Nor needful Counsels, though to lengthen Peace,  
Nor Love, of which wise Nature takes such care,  
Could from this useful work his cares release.   

102.  
But with the early Sun he rose, and taught  
These Youths, by growing virtue to grow great;  
Showed greatness is without it blindly sought,  
A desperate charge which ends in base retreat.   

103.  
He taught them shame, the sudden sense of ill;  
Shame, Nature's hasty Conscience, which forbids  
Weak inclination ere it grow to will,  
And stays rash will, before it grow to deeds.   

104.  
He taught them▪ Honour, Virtue's bashfulness;  
A Fort so yieldless, that it fears to treat;  
Like Power, it grows to nothing, growing less;  
Honour, the moral Conscience of the Great!   

105.  
He taught them kindness, Souls civility;  
In which, nor Courts, nor Cities have a part;  
For theirs is fashion, this from falsehood free;  
Where Love, and pleasure, know no Lust nor Art.   

106.  
And Love he taught; the Soul's stolen Visit made,  
Though froward Age watch hard, and Law forbid;  
Her walks no Spy has traced, nor mountain stayed;  
Her friendship's cause, is as the Loadstone's hid.   

107.  
He taught them love of Toil, Toil which does keep  
Obstructions from the Mind, and quench the blood;  
Ease but belongs to us like sleep, and sleep  
Like Opium, is our Medicine, not our Food.   

108.  
To dangers used them, which Death's Vizards are,  
More ugly than himself, and often chase  
From Battle Coward-life; but when we dare  
His Vizard see, we never fear his face.    

CANTO the Third.  
The ARGUMENT.  

The Poet takes the Wise aside, to prove  
Even them concerned in all he writes of Love.  
The duteous ORGO from the Court returns  
With joys, at which again fair BIRTHA mourns.  
The Duke with open Arms does entertain  
Those Guests whom he receives with secret pain.   

1.  
THou, whom some Ages hence these Rolls dost read  
(Kept as Records by Lovers of Love's power)  
Thou who dost live, when I have long been dead,  
And feedest from Earth, when Earth does me devour.   

2.  
Who liv'st, perhaps, amidst some City's joys,  
Where they would fall asleep with Lazy peace,  
But that their triumphs make so great a noise,  
And their loud Bells cannot for Nuptials cease:   

3.  
Thou, who perhaps, proudly thy bloomie Bride  
Leadest to some Temple, where I withered lie;  
Proudly, as if she Age's Frosts defy'd;  
And that thy springing self could never die:   

4.  
Thou, to whom then the cheerful Choir will sing,  
Whilst hallowed Lamps, and Tapers, brave the Sun  
As a Lay-Light; and Bells in triumph ring,  
As when from sallies the Besiegers run.   

5.  
Then when the Priest has ended, if thine Eyes  
Can but a little space her Eyes forbear,  
To show her where my Marble Co●●in lies;  
Her Virgin Garlands she will offer there:   

6.  
Confess, that reading me she learned to Love;  
That all the good behaviour of her heart,  
Even towards thyself, my doctrine did improve;  
Where Love by Nature is forewarned of Art.   

7.  
She will confess, that to her Maiden state  
This Story showed such Patterns of great Life,  
As though she then could those but imitate,  
They an Example make her now a Wife.   

8.  
And thy life's fire could she a while outlive  
(Which were, though lawful, neither kind nor good)  
Then, even her sorrows would examples give;  
And shine to others through dark widowhood.   

9  
And she will boast, how spite of Cynic Age,  
Of business, which does Power uncivil make,  
Of ruder Cells, where they Love's Fire assuage  
By studying Death, and Fear for Virtue take:   

10.  
And spite of Courts (where loving now is made  
An Art, as dying is in Cells) my Laws  
Did teach her how by Nature to persuade,  
And hold by virtue whom her beauty draws.   

11.  
Thus when by knowing me, thou knowst to whom  
Love owes his Eyes, who has too long been blind▪  
Then in the Temple leave my Body's Tomb,  
To seek this Book, the Mon'ment of my Mind.   

12.  
Where thou may'st read; who with impatient Eyes  
For Orgo on the guilded Terrace stay;  
Which high, and golden shows, and open lies,  
As the Morn's Window when she lets out Day.   

13.  
Whose height Two rising Forests overlooks;  
And on Pine-tops the Eyesight downward cast;  
Where distant Rivers seem bestrided Brooks,  
Churches but Anchored Ships, their Steeples, Masts.   

14.  
Hence, by his little Regan Courser brought,  
Orgo they spy, with diligence endued,  
As if he would o'ertake forerunning Thought;  
And he by many swiftly seemed pursued.   

15.  
But his light speed left those awhile behind;  
Whilst with raised Dust, their swiftness hide the way;  
Yet Birtha will, too soon, by Orgo find  
What she by distance lost in this survey.   

16.  
Orgo a precious Casket did present  
To his dear Lord, of Podian Saphyr wrought;  
For which, unknown to Birtha, he was sent,  
And a more precious Pledge was in it brought.   

17.  
Then thus proclaimed his joy, Long may I live!  
Sent still with blessings from the Heavenly Powers;  
And may their bounties show what they can give;  
And full as fast as long expected Showers!   

18.  
Behold the King, with such a shining Train  
As dazzles sight, yet can inform the Blind;  
But there the Rich, and Beauteous shine in vain,  
Unless they d●stance keep from Rhodalind.   

19  
M● thinks, they through the Middle Region come;  
Their Chariots hid in Clouds of Dust below;  
And o'er their Heads, their Coursers scattered Foam  
Does seem to cover them like falling Snow.   

20.  
This Birtha heard, and she on Orgo cast  
A piteous look (for she no anger knew)  
But griev d he knows not, that he brings too fast  
Such joys, as fain she faster would eschew.   

21.  
So Gondibert this Gust of glory took,  
As Men whose Sails are full, more weather take;  
And she so gazed on him, as Seamen look  
On long sought shore, when Tempests drive them back.   

22.  
But now these glories more apparent be;  
And justly all their observation claimed;  
Great, as in greatest Courts less Princes see,  
When entertained to be eclipsed, and shamed,   

23.  
West from Verona's Road, through pleasant Meads,  
Their Chariot's cross, and to the Palace steer;  
And Aribert this winged triumph leads;  
Which like the Planet's Progress did appear.   

24.  
So shined they, and so noiseless seemed their speed;  
Like Spartans', touching but the silken Reins,  
Was all the conduct which their Coursers need,  
And proudly to sit still, was all their pains.   

25.  
With Aribert sat royal Rhodalind;  
Calm Orna by the Count, by Hermegild  
(Silvered with time) the Golden Gartha shined;  
And Tybalt's Eyes were full by Laura filled.   

26.  
The lesser Beauties, numberless as Stars,  
Showed ●ickly and far off, to this Noonday;  
And lagged like Baggage Treasure in the Wars;  
Or only seemed another Milkie-way.   

27.  
The Duke perceived, the King designed to make  
This visit more familiar by surprise;  
And with Court art, he would no notice take  
Of that which Kings are willing to disguise.   

28.  
But as in heedless sleep, the House shall seem  
New waked with this Alarm; and Vlfin straight  
(Whose ●ame was precious in the Courts esteem)  
Must, as with casual sight, their entrance wait.   

29.  
To Astragon he doubles all his Vows;  
To Birtha, through his Eyes, his Heart revealed;  
And by some civil jealousies he shows  
Her beauty from the Court must be concealed.   

30.  
Prays her, from Envy's danger to retire;  
The Palace war; which there can never cease,  
Till Beauty's force in age or death expire:  
A War disguised in civil shapes of Peace.   

31.  
Still he the precious Pledge kept from her view;  
Who guessed not by the Casket his intent;  
And was so willing not to fear him true,  
That she did fear to question what it meant.   

32.  
Now hasts she to be hid; and being gone,  
Her Lover thinks the Planet of the day;  
So leaves the mourning World to give the Moon  
(Whose Train is marked but for their number) way.   

33.  
And entering in her Closet (which took light  
Full in the Palace Front) she finds her Maids  
Gathered to see this gay unusual sight;  
Which Commet-like, their wondering Eyes invades   

34.  
Where Thula would by climbing highest be,  
Though ancient grown, and was in Stature short;  
Yet did protest, she came not there to see,  
But to be hid from dangers of the Court.   

35.  
Their curious longing Birtha durst not blame  
(Boldness, which but to seeing did aspire)  
Since she herself, provoked with Courts great Fame,  
Would fain a little see what all admire.   

36.  
Then through the Casement ventured so much Face,  
As Kings deposed show when through Grates they peep  
To see Deposers in their Crowding pass;  
But straight shrink back, and at the triumph weep.   

37.  
Soon so her Eyes did too much glory find;  
For even the first she saw was all; for she  
No more would view, since that was Rhodalind;  
And so much beauty could none others be.   

38.  
Which with her Virtue weighed (no less renowned)  
Afflicts her that such worth must fatal prove;  
And be in tears of the Possessor drowned,  
Or she depose her Lover by her love.   

39  
But Thula (wildly earnest in the view  
Of such gay sights as she did ne'er behold)  
Marked not when Birtha her sad Eyes withdrew;  
But dreamt the world was turned again to Gold.   

40.  
Each Lady most, till more appeared, adored;  
Then with rude liking praised them all aloud;  
Yet thought them foul and course to every Lord;  
And civilly to every Page she bowed.   

41.  
The objects past, out-sighed even those that woe;  
And straight her Mistress at the Window mist;  
Then finding her in grief, out-sighed her too;  
And her fair Hands with parting passion kissed:   

42.  
Did with a Servants usual art profess  
That all she saw was, to her beauty, black;  
Confessed their Maids well bred, and knew to dress,  
But said those Courts are poor which painting lack.   

43.  
Thy praise (said Birtha) poisoned is with spite;  
May blisters seize on thy uncivil Tongue,  
Which strives so wickedly to do me right,  
By doing Rhodalind and Orna wrong.   

44.  
False Fame, thy Mistress tutored thee amiss;  
Who teaches School in streets, where Crowds resort;  
Fame, false, as that their beauty painted is;  
The common Country slander on the Court.   

45.  
With this rebuke, T●ula takes gravely leave;  
Pretends she'll better judge ere they be gone;  
At least see more, though they her sight deceive;  
Whilst Birtha finds wild Fear feeds best alone.   

46.  
Ulfin receives, and through Art's Palace guides  
The King; who owns him with familiar grace;  
Though Twice seven Years from first observance hides▪  
Those Marks of valour which adorned his Face.   

47.  
Then Astragon with hasty homage bows:  
And says, when thus his Beams he does dispense  
In lowly visits, like the Sun he shows  
Kings made for universal influence.   

48.  
Him with renown the King for Science pays,  
And Virtue; which Gods likest pictures be  
Drawn by the Soul, whose only hire is praise;  
And from such Salary not Heaven is free.   

49.  
Then kindly he inquires for Gondibert;  
When, and how far his wounds in danger were?  
And does the cautious progress of his Art  
Alike with wonder and with pleasure hear.   

50.  
Now Gongibert advanced, but with delay,  
As fettered by his love; for he would fain  
Dissembled weakness might procure his stay,  
Here where his Soul does as in Heaven remain.   

51.  
Him, Creature like, the King did boldly use  
With public love; to have it understood  
That Kings, like God, may choose whom they will choose;  
And what they make, judge with their own Eyes good.   

52.  
This grace the Duke at bashful distance takes;  
And Rhodalind so much concerned is grown,  
That his surprisal she her trouble makes;  
Blushing, as if his blushes were her own.   

53.  
Now the bright Train with Astragon ascend;  
Whilst Hermegild, with Gartha moves behind;  
Whom much this gracious visit did offend;  
But thus he practised to appease her mind.   

54.  
Judge not you strangely in this visit show;  
As well in Courts think wise disembling new;  
Nor think the kindness strange, though to your Foe,  
Till all in Courts where they are kind are true.   

55.  
Why should your closer mourning more be worn!  
Poor Priests invented Blacks for lesser cost;  
Kings for their Sires in Regal Purple mourn,  
Which shows what they have got, not what they lost.   

56.  
Though rough the way to Empire be, and steep,  
You look that I should levelly it so plain,  
As Babes might walk it barefoot in their sleep;  
But Power is the reward of patient pain!   

57  
This high Hill Power, whose Bowels are of Gold,  
Shows near to greedy and unpractised sight;  
But many grow in travel to it, old,  
And have mistake the distance by the height.   

58.  
If those old Travellers may thither be  
Your trusted Guides, they will your haste reform;  
And give you fears of Voyages by Sea;  
Which are not often made without a storm.   

59  
Yet short our Course shall prove, our passage fair,  
If in the Steerage you will quiet stand,  
And not make storms of every sigh of Air;  
But think the Helm safe in the Pilots hand.   

60.  
You, like some fatal King (who all Men hears,  
Yet trusts entirely none) your trust mistake,  
As too much weight for one: One Pillar bears  
Weight that would make a thousand shoulders ache.   

61.  
Your Brother's storm I to a calm have turned;  
Who lets this guilded Sacrifice proceed  
To Hymen's Altar, by the King adorned,  
As Priests give Victims Garlands ere they bleed.   

62.  
Hubert to triumph would not move so fast;  
Yet you (though but a kind Spectator) mean  
To give his triumph Laws, and make more haste  
To see it pass, than he does to be seen.   

63.  
With patience lay this Tempest of your heart!  
For you, ere long, this Angel's form shall turn  
To fatal Man's; and for that shape of Art,  
Some may, as I for yours of Nature, mourn!   

64.  
Thus by her Lovesick Statesmen she was taught;  
And smiled with joy of wearing Manly shape;  
Then smiled, that such a smile his Heart had caught;  
Whose Nets camps break not through, nor Senate's escape.    

CANTO the Fourth.  
The ARGUMENT.  

The King to GONDIBERT is grown so kind,  
That he prevents the bounteous RHODALIND  
In giving of her love; and GONDIBERT  
Laments his Breast, holds but a single heart;  
Which BIRTHA grieves her beauty did subdue,  
Since he undoes the world in being true.   

1.  
FUll grows the Presence now, as when all know  
Some stranger Prince must be received with state,  
When Courts show those, who come to see the Show;  
And all gay Subjects like Domestics wait.   

2.  
Nor Vlfinore nor Goltho absent were;  
Whose hopes expect what lift'ning Birtha (hid  
In the adjoining Closet) fears to hear;  
And begs kind Heaven in pity would forbid.   

3.  
The King (who never time nor power misspent  
In Subject's bashfulness, whiling great deeds  
Like Coward Counsels, who too late consent)  
Thus to his secret Will aloud proceeds.   

4.  
If to thy same (brave Youth) I could add wings,  
Or make her Trumpet louder by my voice,  
I would (as an example drawn for Kings)  
Proclaim the cause, why thou art now my choice.   

5.  
But this were to suspect the world asleep,  
Or all our Lombard's with their envy blind,  
Or that the Hunns so much for bondage weep,  
As their drowned Eyes cannot thy Trophies find.   

6.  
When this is heard, none dare of what I give  
Presume their equal merit might have shared;  
And to say more, might make thy Foes believe,  
Thy dangerous worth is grown above reward.   

7.  
Reward even of a Crown, and such a Crown,  
As by heavens Model ancient Victors wore;  
When they, as by their Coin, by Laws were known;  
For Laws but made more currant Victor's power.   

8.  
A Crown soon taught, by whom Power first was given;  
When Victors (of Dominion cautious made  
By hearing of that old revolt in Heaven)  
Kept Power too high for Subjects to invade.   

9  
A Crown, which ends by Armies their debate,  
Who question height of Power; who by the Law  
(Till plain obedience they make intricate)  
Would not the People, but their Ruler's awe.   

10.  
To Power, adoption makes thy Title good;  
Preferring worth, as birth gives Prince's place;  
And Virtue's claim exceeds the right of blood,  
As Souls extraction does the Body's Race.   

11.  
Yet for thy Bloods long walk through Prince's veins,  
Thou mayst with any Lombard measure time;  
Though he his hidden house in Ilium feigns;  
And not step short, when Hubert self would climb.   

12.  
And Hubert is of highest Victors Breed;  
Whose worth I shall for distant Empire choose;  
If he will learn, that you by Fate precede,  
And what he never had, he cannot lose.   

13.  
His Valour shall the Gothick Conquest keep:  
And would to Heaven that all your mighty Minds  
As soon were pleased, as Infants are with sleep,  
And you had Music common as the winds.   

14.  
That all the Year your Seasons were like Spring;  
All joyed as Birds, and all as Lover's kind;  
That every famous Fighter were a King,  
And each, like you, could have a Rhodalind.   

15.  
For she is yours, as your adoption, free;  
And in that gift my remnant Life I give;  
But 'tis to you, brave Youth! Who now are she;  
And she that Heaven where secondly I live.   

16.  
And richer than that Crown (which shall be thine,  
When Life's long Progress I am gone with Fame)  
Take all her love; which scarce forbears to shine  
And own thee, through her Virgin-Curtain, Shame.   

17.  
Thus spoke the King, and Rhodalind appeared  
Through published Love, with so much bashfulness,  
As young Kings show, when by surprise o'erheard,  
Moaning to Favourite Ears a deep distress.   

18.  
For Love is a distress, and would be hid  
Like Monarch's grief, by which they bashful grow;  
And in that shame beholders they forbid;  
Since those blush most, who must their blushes show.   

19  
And Gondibert with dying Eyes did grieve  
At her veiled love (a wound he cannot heal)  
As great Minds mourn, who cannot then relieve  
The virtuous, when through shame they want, conceal.   

20.  
And now cold Birtha's rosy looks decay;  
Who in Fear's Frost had like her beauty died,  
But that Attendant Hope persuades her stay  
A while, to hear her Duke, who thus replied:   

21.  
Victorious King! Abroad your Subjects are  
Like Legates safe, at home like Altars free!  
Even by your fame they conquer as by war;  
And by your Laws safe from each other be.   

22.  
A King you are o'er Subjects, so as wise  
And noble Husbands seem o'er Loyal Wives;  
Who claim not, yet confess their liberties,  
And brag to strangers of their happy lives.   

23.  
To Foes a winter storm; whilst your Friends how  
Like Summer Trees, beneath your bounty's load;  
To me (next him whom your great self, with low  
And cheerful duty serves) a giving God.   

24.  
Since this is you, and Rhodalind (the Light  
By which her Sex fled virtue find) is yours;  
Your Diamond, which tests of jealous sight,  
The stroke, and fire, and Oisel's juice endures;   

25.  
Since she so precious is, I shall appear  
All counterfeit, of Art's disguises made;  
And never dare approach her Lustre near;  
Who can scarce hold my value in the shade.   

26.  
Forgive me that I am not what I seem;  
But falsely have dissembled an excess  
Of all such virtues as you most esteem;  
And now grow good but as I ills confess.   

27.  
Far in Ambition's Fever am I gone!  
Like raging Flame aspiring is my Love;  
Like flame destructive too, and like the Sun  
Does round the world towards change of Objects   

28.  
Nor is this now through virtuous shame confessed;  
But Rhodalind does force my conjured fear,  
As Men whom evil spirits have possessed,  
Tell all when saintly Votaries appear.   

29.  
When she will grace the Bridal dignity,  
It will be soon to all young Monarches known;  
Who then by posting through the World, will try  
Who first can at her Feet present his Crown.   

30.  
Then will Verona seem the Inn of Kings;  
And Rhodalind shall at her Palace Gate  
Smile, when great Love these royal Suitors brings;  
Who for that smile would as for Empire wait.   

31.  
Amongst this ruling Race she choice may take  
For warmth of Valour, coolness of the mind,  
Eyes that in Empire's drowsy Calms can wake,  
In storms look out, in darkness dangers find.   

32.  
A Prince who more enlarges power than lands;  
Whose greatness is not what his Map contains;  
But thinks that his, where he at full commands,  
Not where his Coin does pass, but power remains.   

33.  
Who knows that Power can never be too high  
When by the Good possessed; fo● 'tis in them  
The swelling Nile; from which, though people fly,  
They prosper most by rising of the stream.   

34.  
Thus (Princess) you should choose, and you will find,  
Even he, since Men are Wolves, must civilize  
(As light does ●ame some Beasts of savage kind)  
Himself yet more, by dwelling in your Eyes.   

35.  
Such was the duke's reply, which did produce  
Thoughts of a divers shape through several Ears:  
His jealous Rivals mourn at his excuse;  
But Astragon it cures of all his fears.   

36.  
Birtha his praise of Rhodalind bewails;  
And now her hope a weak Physician seems,  
For Hope, the common Comforter prevails  
Like common Medicines, slowly in extremes.   

37.  
The King (secure in off'rd Empire) takes  
This forced excuse, as troubled bashfulness,  
And a disguise which sudden passion makes,  
To hide more joy than prudence should express.   

38.  
And Rhodalind (who never loved before,  
Nor could suspect his love was given away)  
Thought not the treasure of his Breast so poor,  
But that it might his debts of honour pay.   

39  
To hasten the rewards of his desert,  
The King does to Verona him command;  
And kindness so imposed, not all his Art  
Can now instruct his duty to withstand.   

40.  
Yet whilst the King does now his time dispose  
In seeing wonders, in this Palace shown,  
He would a parting kindness pay to those  
Who of their wounds are yet not perfect grown.   

41.  
And by this fair pretence, whilst on the King  
Lord Astragon through all the house attends,  
Young Orgo does the Duke to Birtha bring;  
Who thus her sorrows to his bosom sends.   

42.  
Why should my Storm your Life's calm voyage vex?  
Destroying wholly Virtues Raze in one;  
So by the first of my unlucky Sex,  
All in a single ruin were undone.   

43.  
Make Heavenly Rhodalind your Bride! Whilst I  
Your once loved Maid, excuse you, since I know  
That virtuous Men forsake so willingly  
Long cherished life, because to Heaven they go.   

44.  
Let me her servant be! A dignity;  
Which if your pity in my fall procures;  
I still shall value the advancement high,  
Not as the Crown is hers, but she is yours.   

45.  
Ere this high sorrow up to dying grew,  
The Duke the Casket oped, and from thence  
(Formed like a Heart) a cheerful Emerald drew;  
Cheerful, as if the lively stone had sense.   

46.  
The Thirti'th Charract it had doubled Twice;  
Not taken from the At●ick silver Mine,  
Nor from the Brass, though such (of nobler price)  
Did on the Necks of Parthian Ladies shine:   

47.  
Nor yet of those which make the Ethiop proud;  
Nor taken from those Rocks where Bactrians climb;  
But from the Scythian, and without a Cloud;  
Not sick at fire, nor languishing with time.   

48.  
Then thus he spoke, This (Birtha) from my Male  
progenitors, was to the loyal she  
On whose kind Heart they did in love prevail,  
The Nuptial Pledge, and this I give to thee!   

49.  
Seven Centuries have passed since it from Bride  
To Bride did first succeed; and though 'tis known  
From ancient lore, that Gems much virtue hide,  
And that the Emerald is the Bridal Stone.   

50.  
Though much renowned because it chastens loves,  
And will, when worn by the neglected wife,  
Show when her absent Lord disloyal proves,  
By faintness, and a pale decay of life;   

51.  
Though Emeralds serve as Spies to jealous Brides,  
Yet each compared to this does counsel keep;  
Like a false Stone, the Husband's falsehood hides,  
Or seems born blind, or feigns a dying sleep.   

52.  
With this take Orgo, as a better Spy;  
Who may in all your kinder fears be sent  
To watch at Court, if I deserve to die  
By making this to fade, and you lament.   

53.  
Had now an artful Pencil Birtha drawn  
(With grief all dark, then strait with joy all light)  
He must have fancied first in early dawn,  
A sudden break of beauty out of Night.   

54.  
Or first he must have marked what Paleness, Fear,  
Like nipping Frost, did to her visage bring;  
Then think he sees, in a cold backward year,  
A Rosy Morn begin a sudden Spring.   

55.  
Her joys (too vast to be contained in speech)  
Thus she a little spoke, Why stoop you down,  
My plighted Lord, to lowly Birtha's reach,  
Since Rhodalind would lift you to a Crown?   

56.  
Or why do I, when I this plight embrace,  
Boldly aspire to take what you have given?  
But that your virtue has with Angel's place,  
And 'tis a virtue to aspire at Heaven.   

57  
And as towards Heaven all travel on their Knees,  
So I towards you, though Love aspire, will move:  
And were you Crowned, what could you better please  
Than awed obedience led by bolder Love?   

58.  
If I forget the depth from whence I rise,  
Far from your bosom banished be my heart;  
Or claim a right by beauty to your Eyes,  
Or proudly think my chastity desert.   

59  
But thus ascending from your humble Maid  
To be your plighted Bride, and then your Wife,  
Will be a Debt that shall be hourly paid,  
Till Time my duty cancel with my life.   

60.  
And fruitfully if Heaven ere make me bring  
Your Image to the World, you then my pride  
No more shall blame, than you can tax the Spring  
for boasting of those Flowrs she cannot hide.   

61.  
Orgo, I so receive as I am taught  
By duty to esteem what ere you love;  
And hope the joy he in this Jewel brought,  
Will luckier than his former triumphs prove.   

62.  
For though but Twice he has approached my ●ight,  
He Twice made haste to drown me in my Tears:  
But now I am above his Planet's spite,  
And as for sin beg pardon for my fears.   

63.  
Thus spoke she; and with fixed continued sight,  
The Duke did all her bashful beauty's view;  
Then they with kisses sealed their sacred plight;  
Like Flowrs still sweeter as they thicker grew.   

64.  
Yet must these pleasures feel, though innocent,  
The sickness of extremes, and cannot last;  
For Power (Love's shunned Impediment) has sent  
To tell the Duke, his Monarch is in haste:   

65.  
And calls him to that triumph which he fears  
So as a Saint forgiven (whose Breast does all  
heavens joys contain) wisely loved Pomp for bears,  
Lest tempted Nature should from blessings fall.   

66.  
He often takes his leave, with Love's delay;  
And bids her hope, he with the King shall find,  
By now appearing forward to obey,  
A means to serve him less in Rhodalind.   

67.  
She weeping to her Closet-window hies;  
Where she with tears does Rhodalind survey;  
As dying Men, who grieve that they have Eyes,  
When they through Curtains spy the rising Day.   

68  
The King has now his curious sight sufficed  
With all lost Arts, in their revival viewed;  
Which when restored, our pride thinks new devised:  
Fashions of Minds, called new when but renewed!   

69.  
The busy Court prepares to move; on whom  
Their sad offended Eyes the Country cast;  
Who never see enough where Monarches come,  
And nothing so uncivil seems as haste.   

70.  
As Men move slow, who know they lose their way,  
Even so the Duke towered Rhodalind does move;  
Yet he does duteous fears, and wonder pay,  
Which are the first, and dangerous signs of Love.   

71.  
All his addresses much by Goltho were  
And Ulfinore observed, who distant stand,  
Not daring to approach his presence near;  
But eat his Eyes to scape from his command:   

72.  
Lest to Verona he should both require;  
For by remaining here, both hope to light  
Their Hymen's Torches at his parting fire,  
And not despair to kindle them to night.   

73.  
The King his Golden Chariot now ascends;  
Which near fair Rhodalind the Duke contains▪  
Though to excuse that grace he lowly bends;  
But honour so refused more honour gains.   

74.  
And now their Chariots (ready to take wing)  
Are even by weakest breath, a whisper stayed;  
And but such whisper as a Page does bring  
To Laura's Woman from a Household Maid.   

75.  
But this low voice did raise in Laura's Ear  
An Echo, which from all redoubled soon;  
Proclaiming such a Country beauty here,  
As makes them look like Evening to her Noon.   

76.  
And Laura (of her own high beauty proud,  
Yet not to others cruel) softly prays  
She may appear! but Gartha, bold, and loud,  
With Eyes impatient as for conquest, stays.   

77.  
Though Astragon now owns her, and excused  
Her presence, as a Maid but rudely taught,  
Infirm in health, and not to greatness used;  
Yet Gartha still calls out to have her brought!   

78.  
But Rhodalind (in whose relenting Breast  
Compassion's self might sit at School, and learn)  
Knew bashful Maids with public view distressed;  
And in their Glass, themselves with fear discern;   

79.  
She stopped this Challenge which Court Beauty made  
To Country shape, not knowing Nature's hand  
Had Birtha dressed, nor that herself obeyed  
In vain, whom conquering Birtha did command.   

80.  
The Duke (whom virtuous kindness soon subdues)  
Though him his Bonds from Birtha highly please,  
Yet seems to think, that lucky he, who sues  
To wear this royal Maid's, will walk at ease.   

81.  
Of these a brief survey sad Birtha takes;  
And Orgo's help directs her Eye to all;  
Shows her for whom grave Tybalt nightly wakes;  
Then at whose feet wise Hermegild does fall.   

82.  
And when calm Orna with the Count she saw,  
Hope (who though weak, a willing Painter is,  
And busily does every Pattern draw)  
By that example could not work amiss.   

83.  
For soon she shaped her Lord and her so kind,  
So all of love; till fancy wrought no more  
When she perceived him sit with Rhodalind;  
But froward-Painter-like the Copy tore.   

84.  
And now they move; and she thus robbed, believes  
(Since with such haste they bear her wealth away)  
That they at best are but judicious Thiefs,  
And know the noble value of their prey.   

85.  
And then she thus complained, Why royal Maid!  
Injurious Greatness! Did you hither come  
Where Pow'r's strong Nets of Wire were never laid?  
But childish Love took Cradle as at home.   

86.  
Where can we safe our harmless blessings keep,  
Since glorious Courts our solitude invade?  
Bells which ring out, when th' unconcerned would sleep;  
Faise lights to scare poor Birds in Country shade!   

87.  
Or if our joys their own discov'rie make,  
Envy (whose Tongue first kills whom she devours)  
Calls it our Pride; Envy, The poisonous snake,  
Whose breath blasts Maids, as innocent as Flowers!   

88  
Forgive me beauteous Greatness, if I grow  
Distempered with my fears, and rudely long  
To be secure; or praise your beauty so  
As to believe that it may do me wrong.   

89.  
And you my plighted Lord, forgive me too,  
If since your worth and my defects I find,  
I fear what you in justice ought to do;  
And praise your judgement when I doubt you kind.   

90.  
Now sudden fear o'er all her beauty wrought  
The pale appearance of a kill Frost;  
And careful Orgo, when she started, thought  
She had her Pledge, the precious Emerald, lost.   

91.  
But that kind Heart, as constant as her own,  
She did not miss; 'twas from a sudden sense,  
Lest in her Lover's heart some change was grown,  
And it grew pale with that intelligence.   

92.  
Soon from her bosom she this Emerald took;  
If now (said she) my Lord my Heart deceives,  
This Stone will by dead paleness make me look  
Pale as the Snowy skin of Lily Leaves.   

93.  
But such a cheerful green the Gem did sling  
Where she opposed the Rays, as if she had  
Been died in the complexion of the Spring,  
Or were by Nymphs of Britain Valleys clad.   

94.  
Soon she with earnest passion kissed the Stone;  
Which ne'er till then had suffered an eclipse;  
But then the Rays retired, as if it shone  
In vain, so near the Rubies of her Lips.   

95.  
Yet thence removed, with public glory shines!  
She Orgo blest, who had this Relic brought;  
And kept it like those Relics locked in shrines,  
By which the latest Miracles were wrought.   

96.  
For soon respect was up to reverence grown;  
Which fear to Superstition would sublime,  
But that her Father took Fear's Ladder down;  
Lose steps by which distress to Heaven would climb.   

97.  
He knew, when Fear shapes Heavenly Power so just,  
(And terrible parts of that shape drawn true)  
It vails heavens beauty, Love; which when we trust  
Our courage honours him to whom we sue!    

CANTO the Fifth.  
The ARGUMENT.  

The deep Designs of BIRTHA in distress;  
Her Emrauld's virtue shows her Love's success.  
Wise ASTRAGON with reason cures despair,  
And the Afflicted chides for partial Prayer.  
With grief the secret Rivals take their leave,  
And but dark hope for hidden love receive.   

1.  
TO show the Morn her passage to the East,  
Now Birtha's dawn, the Lover's Day, appears!  
So soon Love beats Revellies in her Breast,  
And like the Dewy Morn, she rose in tears:   

2.  
So much she did her jealous dreams dislike,  
Her Maids strait kindle by her light their Eyes;  
Which when to hers compared, Poets would strike  
Such sparks to light their Lamps, ere Day does rise.   

3.  
But, O vain Jealousy! why dost thou haste  
To find those evils which too soon are brought?  
Love's frantic Valour! which so rashly fast  
Seeks dangers, as if none would come unsought.   

4.  
As often fairest Mo●●s soon covered be,  
So she with darkening thoughts is clouded now;  
Looks so, as weaker Eyes small objects see;  
Or studious Statesmen who contract the Brow.   

5.  
Or like some thinking Sibyl that would find  
The sense of mystic words by Angels given!  
And this fair Politic bred in her mind  
(Restless as Seas) a deep design on Heaven.   

6.  
To Prayers plain Temple she does haste unseen;  
Which though not graced with curious cost for show,  
Was nicely kept; and now must be as clean,  
As Tears make those who thence forgiven go.   

7.  
For her own Hands (by which best Painter drew  
The Hands of Innocence) will make it shine;  
Penance, which newly from her terrors grew;  
And was (alas!) part of her deep design.   

8.  
And when this holy huswifry was past,  
Her vows she sends to Heaven, which thither fly  
Entire; not broken by unthinking haste;  
Like Sinners Sparks that in ascending dye.   

9  
Thence she departs; but at this Temple Gate  
A needy Crowd (called by her Summons there)  
With such assurance for her bounty wait;  
As if ne'er failing Heaven their Debtor were.   

10.  
To these she store of Antique Treasure gave  
(For she no Money knew) Medals of Gold,  
Which curious Gath'rers did in travel save,  
And at high worth were to her Mother sold.   

11.  
Figures of fight Chiefs, born to o'ercome  
Those who without their leave would all destroy;  
Chiefs, who had brought renown to Athens, Rome,  
To Carthage, Tyre, and to lamented Troy.   

12.  
Such was her wealth, her Mother's Legacy;  
And well she knew it was of special price;  
But she has begged what Heaven must not deny;  
So would not make a common Sacrifice.   

13.  
To the black Temple she her Sorrow bears;  
Where she out-begged the tardy begging Thief;  
Made weeping Magdaline but poor in Tears,  
Yet Silent as their Pictures was her Grief.   

14.  
Her purposed penance she did here fulfil;  
Those Pictures dressed, and the spent Lamp relieved  
With fragrant Oils, dropped from her Silver Still;  
And now for those that there sat mourning, grieved.   

15.  
Those Penitients, who knew her innocence,  
Wonder what Parents sin she did bemoan;  
And venture (though they go unpardoned thence)  
More sighs for her redress than for their own.   

16.  
Now jealousy no more benights her face,  
Her courage beauteous grows, and grief decays;  
And with such joy as shipwrecked Men embrace  
The Shore, she hastens to the House of Praise.   

17.  
And there the Gem she from her bosom took,  
(With which till now she trembled to advise)  
So far from pale, that Gondibert would look  
Pale, if he saw, how it outshined her Eyes.   

18.  
These Rays she to a Miracle prefers;  
And lustre that such beauty so defies,  
Had Poets seen (Love's partial Jewellers,  
Who count nought precious but their Mistress Eyes)   

19  
They would with grief a miracle confess!  
She enters strait to pay her gratitude;  
And could not think her beauty in distress,  
Whilst to her Love, her Lord is still subdued.   

20.  
The Altar she with Imagery arrayed;  
Where Needles boldly, as a Pencil, wrought  
The Story of that humble Syrian Maid,  
Who Pitchers bore, yet Kings to Juda brought.   

21.  
And there she of that precious Linen spreads,  
Which in the consecrated Month is spun  
By Lombard Brides; for whom in empty Beds  
Their Bridegrooms sigh till the succeeding Moon.   

22.  
'Tis in that Moon, bleached by her fuller Light;  
And washed in Suds of Amber, till it grow  
Clean as this spreaders Hands, and those were white  
As rising Lilies, or as falling Snow.   

23.  
The voluntary Choir of Birds she feeds,  
Which oft had here the Virgin-Consort filled;  
She diets them with Aromatic seeds;  
And quenched their Thirst with Rainbowe-Dew distilled.   

24.  
Lord Astragon, whose tender care did wait  
Her progress, since her Morn so cloudy broke,  
Arrests her passage at this Temple Gate,  
And thus, he with a Father's licence, spoke.   

25.  
Why art thou now, who hast so joyful lived  
Ere love thou knewst, become with Love so sad?  
If thou hast lost fair Virtue, then be grieved;  
Else show thou knowst her worth, by being glad.   

26.  
Thy love's high soaring cannot be a crime;  
Nor can we, if a Spinster loves a King,  
Say that her love ambitiously does climb:  
Love seeks no honour, but does honour bring;   

27.  
Mounts others value, and her own lets fall!  
King's honour is but little, till made much  
By Subject's Tongues! Elixar-Love turns all  
To powerful Gold, where it does only touch.   

28.  
Thou lov'st a Prince above thine own degree:  
Degree is Monarch's Art; Love, Nature's Law;  
In Love's free State all Powers so levelled be,  
That there, affection governs more than awe.   

29.  
But thou dost love where Rhodalind does love;  
And thence thy griefs of jealousy begin;  
A cause which does thy sorrow vainly move;  
Since 'tis thy noble fate, and not thy Sin.   

30.  
This vain and voluntary Load of grief  
(For Fate sent Love, thy will does sorrow bear)  
Thou to the Temple carry'st for relief,  
And so to Heaven art guided by thy fear.   

31.  
Wild Fear! Which has a Commonwealth devised  
In heavens old Realm, and Saints in Senates framed;  
Such as by which, were Beasts well civilised,  
They would suspect their Tamer Man, untamed.   

32.  
Wild Fear! Which has the Indian worship made,  
Where each unlettered Priest the Godhead draws  
In such a form, as makes himself afraid;  
Disguising Mercy's shape in Teeth and Claws.   

33.  
This false Guide, Fear, which does thy Reason sway,  
And turns thy valiant virtue to despair,  
Has brought thee here, to offer, and to pray;  
But Temples were not built for Coward's prayer.   

34.  
For when by Fear thy noble Reason's led  
(Reason, not Shape gives us so great degree  
Above our Subjects, Beasts) than Beasts may plead  
A right in Temples helps as well as we.   

35.  
And here, with absent Reason thou dost weep  
To beg success in love; that Rhodalind  
May lose, what she as much does beg to keep,  
And may at least an equal audience find.   

36.  
Mark Birtha, this unrighteous war of prayer!  
Like wrangling States, you ask a Monarch's aid,  
When you are weak, that you may better dare  
Lay claim, to what your passion would invade.   

37.  
Long has th'ambitious World rudely preferred  
Their quarrels, which they call their prayers, to Heaven;  
And thought that Heaven would like themselves have erred,  
Depriving some, of what's to others given.   

38.  
Thence Modern Faith becomes so weak and blind,  
Thinks Heaven in ruling other Worlds employed,  
And is not mindful of our abject Kind,  
Because all Suits are not by all enjoyed.   

39  
How firm was Faith, when humbly Suits for need,  
Not choice were made? then (free from all despair  
As moderate Birds, who sing for daily seed)  
Like Birds, our Songs of praise included prayer.   

40.  
Thy Hopes are by thy Rival's virtue awed;  
Thy Rival Rhodalind, whose virtue shines  
On Hills, when brightest Planets are abroad;  
Thine privately, like Miners Lamps, in Mines.   

41.  
The Court (where single Patterns are disgraced;  
Where glorious Vice, weak Eyes admire;  
And Virtue's plainness is by Art outfaced)  
She makes a Temple by her Vestal Fire.   

42.  
Though there, Vice sweetly dressed, does tempt like bliss  
Even Cautious Saints; and single Virtue seem  
Fantastic, where brave Vice in fashion is;  
Yet she has brought plain Virtue in esteem.   

43.  
Yours is a virtue of inferior rate,  
Herein the dark a Pattern, where 'tis barred  
From all your Sex that should her imitate,  
And of that pomp which should her Foes reward:   

44.  
Retired, as weak monastics fly from care;  
Or devout Cowards steal to Forts, their Cells,  
From pleasures, which the world's chief dangers are:  
Hers passes yours, as Valour Fear excels.   

45.  
This is your Rival in your suit to Heaven:  
But Heaven is partial if it give to you  
What to her bolder Virtue should be given;  
Since yours, pomps, Virtue's dangers, never knew.   

46.  
Your suit would have your love with love repaid;  
To which Arts conquests, when all science flows,  
Compared, are Students dreams; and triumphs made  
By glorious Courts and Camps, but painted shows.   

47.  
Even Art's Dictator's, who give Laws to Schools,  
Are but dead Heads; Statesmen, who Empire move,  
But prosperous Spies; and Victors, fight Fools,  
When they their Trophies rank with those of Love.   

48.  
And when against your fears I thus declaim,  
(Yet make your danger more, whilst I decry  
Your worth to hers) then wisely fear I blame;  
For fears are hurtfull'st when attempts are high.   

49.  
And you should think your noble dangers less,  
When most my praise does her renown prefer;  
For that takes off your hasty hope's excess;  
And when we little hope, we nothing fear.   

50.  
Now you are taught your sickness, learn your cure;  
You shall to Court, and there serve Rhodalind;  
Try if her virtue's force you can endure  
In the same Sphere, without eclipse of mind.   

51.  
Your Lord may there your Souls compare; for we,  
Though Souls, like stars, make not their greatness known;  
May find which greater than the other be;  
The Stars are measured by Comparison▪   

52.  
Your plighted Lord shall you ere long prefer  
To near attendance on this royal Maid:  
Quit then officious Fear! The Jealous fear  
They are not fearful, when to death afraid.   

53.  
These words he closed with kindness, and retired;  
In which her quick Eyed Hope three blessings spied;  
With joy of being near her Lord, inspired,  
With seeing Courts ', and having Virtue tried.   

54.  
She now with jealous questions uttered fast,  
Fills Orgo's Ear, which there unmarked are gone,  
As Throngs through guarded Gates, when all make haste,  
Not giving Warders time t' examine one.   

55.  
She asked if Fame had rendered Rhodalind  
With favour, or in Truth's impartial shape?  
If Orna were to humble Virtue kind,  
And beauty could from Gartha's envy scape?   

56.  
If Laura (whose fair Eyes those but invites  
Who to her wit ascribe the Victory)  
In conquest of a speechless Maid delights?  
And ere to this prompt Orgo could reply,   

57  
She asked, in what consist the Charms of Court?  
Whether those pleasures so resistless were  
As common Country Travellers report,  
And such as innocence had cause to fear?   

58.  
What kind of Angel's shape young favourites take?  
And being Angels, how they can be bad?  
Or why delight so cruelly to make  
Fair Country Maids, return from Court so sad?   

59  
More had she asked (for study warmed her brow,  
With thinking how her love might prosperous be)  
But that young ulfinore approached her now,  
And Goltho, warmer with design than she.   

60.  
Though Goltho's hope (in Indian Feathers clad)  
Was light, and gay, as if he meant to fly;  
Yet he no farther than his Rival had  
Advanced in promise, from her Tongue, or Eye.   

61.  
When distant, talked, as if he plighted were;  
For hope in Love, like Cowards in the War,  
Talks bravely till the enterprise be near;  
But than discretion dares not venture far.   

62.  
He never durst approach her watchful Eye  
With studious gazing, nor with sighs her Ear;  
But still seemed frolic, like a Statesman's Spy;  
As if his thoughtful business were not there.   

63.  
Still, Superstitious Lovers Beauty paint,  
(Thinking themselves but Devils) so divine,  
As if the thing beloved, were all a Saint;  
And every place she entered, were a Shrine.   

64.  
And though last Night were the auspicious time  
When they resolved to quit their bashful fears;  
Yet soon (as to the Sun when Eaglets climb)  
They stooped, And quenched their daring Eyes in tears.   

65.  
And now (for Hope, that formal Sentry, stands  
All Winds and Showers though there but vainly placed,  
They to Verona beg her dear commands;  
And look to be with parting kindness graced.   

66.  
Both daily journeys meant, 'twixt this and Court:  
For taking leave is twice Love's sweet Repast;  
In being sweet, and then in being short;  
Like Manna, ready still, but cannot last.   

67.  
Her Favours not in liberal looks she gave,  
But in a kind respectful lowliness,  
Them honour gives, yet did her honour save;  
Which gently thus she did to both express.   

68  
High heaven that did direct your Eyes the way  
To choose so well, when you your friendship made,  
Still keep you joined, that daring Envy may  
Fear such united Virtue to invade!   

69.  
In your safe Breasts, the noble Gondibert  
Does trust the secret Treasure of his love;  
And I (grown Conscious of my low desert)  
Would not, you should that wealth for me improve.   

70.  
I am a Flower that merit not the Spring!  
And he (the World's warm Sun,) in passing by  
Should think, when such as I leave flourishing,  
His Beams to Cedars haste, which else would die.   

71.  
This from his humble Maid you may declare  
To him, on whom the good of humane kind  
Depends; and as his greatning is your care,  
So may your early love successes find!   

72.  
So may that beauteous She, whom either's Heart  
For virtue and delight of life shall choose,  
Quit in your siege the long defence of Art,  
And Nature's freedom in a treaty lose.   

73.  
This gave cold Ulfinore in Love's long Night  
Some hope of Day; as Seamen that are run  
Far Northward, find long Winters to be light,  
And in the Cynosure adore the Sun.   

74.  
It showed to Goltho, not alone like Day,  
But like a Wedding Noon, who now grows strong  
Enough to speak, but that her beauties stay  
His Eyes, whose wonder soon arrests his Tongue.   

75.  
Yet something he at parting seemed to say,  
In pretty Flowers of Love's wild Rhetoric;  
Which moved not her, though Orators thus ●way  
Assemblies, which since wild, wild Music like.    

CANTO the Sixth.  
The ARGUMENT.  

Here ULFIN reads the art to ULFINORE  
Of wisely getting, and increasing Power.  
The Rivals to VERONA haste, and there  
Young GOLTHO'S frailty does too soon appear.  
Black DALGA'S fatal beauty is revealed;  
But her descent and Story ●s concealed.   

1.  
OLd Ulfin parting now with Ulfinore,  
His studied thoughts, and of a grave import  
Thus uttered, as well read in ancient Lore;  
When prudence kept up greatness in the Court.   

2.  
Heaven guide thee Son, through Honour's sl●pp'ry way;  
The Hill, which wary painfulness must climb;  
And often rest, to take a full survey  
Of every path trod by Experienced Time.   

3.  
Rise glorious with thy Master's hopeful Morn!  
His favour calls thee to his secret Breast;  
Great Gondibert! to spacious▪ Empire born;  
Whose careful Head will in thy Bosom rest.   

4.  
Be good! and then in pity soon be great!  
For virtuous men should toil to compass power,  
Lest when the Bad possess Dominion's Seat,  
We vainly weep for those whom they devour.   

5.  
Our virtue without power but harmless is!  
The Good, who lazily are good at home,  
And safely rest in doing not amiss,  
Fly from the Bad, for fear of Martyrdom.   

6.  
Be in thy greatness easy, and thy Brow  
Still clear, and comforting as breaking Light;  
The Great, with business troubled, weakly bow;  
Power should with public Burdens walk upright!   

7.  
We cheerfulness, as innocence commend!  
The Great, may with benign and civil Eyes  
The People wrong, yet not the wronged offend;  
Who feel most wrong from those who them despise!   

8.  
Since wrongs must be, Complaints must show the Grie  
And Favourites should walk still open Eared;  
For of the suing Crowd, half are relieved  
With the innate delight of being heard:   

9  
Thy greatness be in Arms! who else are great,  
Move but like Pageants in the People's view;  
And in ●oul weather make a scorned retreat;  
The Greeks their painted Gods in Armour drew!   

10.  
Yield not in storms of State to that dislike,  
Which from the People does to Rulers grow;  
Power (fortune's Sail) should not for threatenings strike;  
In Boats bestormed all check at those that row.   

11.  
Courts little Arts contemn dark Holes to save  
Retreated Power, when fear does Friendship feign;  
Poor thiefs retire to Woods! Chiefs, great and brave,  
Draw out their Forces to the open Plain!   

12.  
Be by thy Virtue bold! when that Sun shines,  
All Art's false lights are with disgrace put out;  
Her streitness shows itself in crooked Lines;  
And her plain Txet the Sceptics dare not doubt.   

13.  
Revenge (weak Woman's Valour, and in Men  
The Ruffians Cowardice,) keep from thy Breast,  
The factious Palace is that Serpent's Den;  
Whom Cowards there, with secret slaughter feast.   

14.  
Revenge is but a braver Name for Fear,  
'Tis Indians furious fear, when they are fed  
With valiant Foes; whose Hearts their Teeth must tear  
Before they boldly dare believe them dead.   

15.  
When thou giv'st death, thy Banners be displayed!  
And move not till an open Foe appears!  
Courts lurking war shows Justice is afraid;  
And no broad Sword, but a closely Poniard wears.   

16.  
To kill, shows Fear dares not more fears endure!  
When wronged, destroy not with thy Foes thy fame,  
The Valiant by forgiving mischief, cure;  
And it is Heavens' great conquest to reclaim?   

17.  
Be by thy bounty known! for since the needs  
Of life, so rudely press the bold and wise;  
The bounteous heart, all but his God exceeds;  
Whom bounty best makes known to Mortal Eyes!   

18.  
And to be bountiful, be rich! for those  
Famed Talkers who in Schools did wealth despise,  
Taught doctrine, which at whom would Empire lose,  
If not believed first by their Enemies.   

19  
And though in ruling Ministers of State,  
The People wretched poverty adore,  
(Which Fools call innocence, and wise Men hate  
As▪ sloth) yet they rebel for being poor.   

20.  
And to be rich, be diligent! Move on  
Like heavens great Movers that enrich the Earth;  
Whose Moment's sloth would show the world undone,  
And make the Spring strait bury all her birth.   

21.  
Rich are the diligent! who can command  
Time, Nature's stock! and could his Hour glass fall,  
Would, as for seed of Stars, stoop for the sand;  
And by incessant Labour gather all.   

22.  
Be kind to Beauty! that unlucky Shrine!  
Where all Love's Thiefs come bowing to their P●●;  
And honour steal; which Beauty makes divine:  
Be thou still kind, but never to betray!   

23.  
Heaven study more in Nature, than in Schools!  
Let Nature's Image never by thee pass  
Like unmarked Time; but those unthinking Fools  
Despise, who spy not Godhead through her Glass.   

24.  
These precepts Ulfinore, with duteous care,  
In h●s Hearts Closet locked, his faithful Breast!  
And now the Rival-friends for Court prepare;  
And much their Youth, is by their haste expressed.   

25.  
They yet ne'er saw Verona, nor the Court;  
And expectation lengthens much their way;  
Since by that great Inviter urged, Report;  
And thither fly on Coursers of Relay.   

26.  
Ere to his Western Mines the Sun retired,  
They his great Mint for all those Mines behold,  
Verona, which in towers to Heaven aspired,  
Gild doubly, for the Sun now guilt their gold.   

27.  
They make their Entry through the Western Gate!  
A Gothick Arch! Where, on an Elephant  
Bold Clephes, as the second Founder, sat;  
Made to mock life, and only life did want.   

28.  
Still strange, and divers seem their Objects now,  
And still increase, where e'er their Eyes they cast;  
Of lazy Pag'ant-Greatness, moving slow,  
And angry business, rushing on in haste.   

29.  
All strange to them, as they to all appear;  
Yet less like strangers gazed than those they see;  
Who this glad Day the Duke's Spectators were;  
To mark how with his fame his looks agree.   

30.  
And guess that these are of his fight Train,  
Renowned in Youth: who by their wonder stayed,  
And by their own, but slowly passage gain;  
But now much more their progress is delayed:   

31.  
For a black Beauty did her pride display  
Through a large Window, and in Jewels sho●,  
As if to please the World, weeping for day,  
Night had put all her Starry Jewels on.   

32.  
This Beauty gazed on both, and Ulfinore  
Hung down his Head, but yet did lift his Eyes;  
As if he fain would see a little more:  
For much, though bashful, he did beauty prize.   

33.  
Goltho did like a blushless Statue stare;  
Boldly her practised boldness did out-look;  
And even for fear she would mistrust her snare,  
Was ready to cry out, That he was took!   

34.  
She, with a wicked Woman's prosperous Art,  
A seeming modesty, the Window closed;  
Wisely delayed his Eyes, since of his Heart  
She thought, she had sufficiently disposed.   

35.  
And he thus strait complained! Ah Ulfinore,  
How vainly Glory has our Youth misled?  
The Wind which blows us from the happy Shore,  
And drives us from the Living to the Dead:   

36.  
To bloody slaughters, and perhaps of those  
Who might beget such Beauties as this Maid;  
The Sleepy here are never waked with Foes;  
Nor are of aught but Ladies frowns afraid.   

37.  
Ere he could more lament, a little Page,  
Clean, and perfumed (one whom this Dame did breed  
To guests at ills, too manly for his age)  
Steps swiftly to him, and arrests his s●eed.   

38.  
With civil whisper cries, My Lady Si●!—  
At this, Goltho alights, as swiftly post  
As Posters mount; by lingering loath to err,  
As Wind-bound Men, whose sloth their first Wind lost.   

39  
And when his Friend advised him to take care;  
He gravely, as a Man new potent grown,  
Protests he shall in all his Fortune's share;  
And to the House invites him as his own.   

40.  
And, with a Rival's wisdom, Ulfinore  
Does hope, since thus blind Love leads him astray,  
Where a false Saint he can so soon adore,  
That he to Birtha ne'er will find the way.   

41.  
They enter, and ascend; and enter then  
Where Dalga with black eyes does Sinners draw;  
And with her voice holds fast repenting Men;  
To whose warm Jet, light Goltho is but Straw.   

42.  
Nicely as Bridegrooms was her Chamber dressed,  
Her Bed, as Brides; and richer than a Throne,  
And sweeter seemed than the Circania's Nest,  
Though built in Eastern Groves of Cinnamon.   

43.  
The price of Prince's pleasure, who her love  
(Though but false ware) at rates so costly bought  
The wealth of many, but may hourly prove  
Spoils to some one, by whom herself is caught.   

44.  
She swayed by sinful Beauty's destiny,  
Finds her Tyrannic Power must now expire,  
Who meant to kindle Goltho in her Eye,  
But to her breast has brought the raging fire.   

45.  
Yet even in simple Love she uses Art,  
Though weep are from loser Eyes but Leaks;  
Yet eldest Lovers scarce would doubt her heart,  
So well she weeps, and thus to Goltho speaks:   

46.  
I might, if I would ask your pardon, Sir,  
Suspect that pity which the noble feel  
When women fail, but since in this I err  
To all my Sex, I would to women kneel.   

47.  
Yet happy were our Sex, could they excuse  
All breach of Modesty, as I can mine,  
Since 'tis from passion which a Saint might use,  
And not appear less worthy of a shrine.   

48.  
For my brave brother you resemble so  
Throughout your shape, who late in Combat fell,  
As you in that an inward Virtue show,  
By which to me you all the world excel.   

49.  
All was he which the Good of greatness see,  
Or Love can like, in Judgement matched by none;  
Unless it failed in being kind to me,  
A crime forbid to all, since he is gone.   

50.  
For though I send my Eyes abroad in hope  
Amongst the Streams of Men still slowing here,  
To find (which▪ is my passion's utmost scope)  
Some one that does his noble Image bear.   

51.  
Yet still I live recluse, unless it seem  
A liberty too rude, that I in you  
His likeness at so high a rate esteem,  
As to believe your heart is kind and true.   

52.  
She casts on Ulfinore a sudden look,  
Starts like a Mountebank, who had forgot  
His Viol, and the cursed poison took,  
By dire mistake before his Antidote.   

53.  
Prayed Goltho that his friend may strait forbear  
Her presence, whom (she said) resembled so  
Her noble Brother's cruel Murderer,  
As she must now expire, unless he go.   

54.  
Goltho still gravely vain, with formal Face  
Bids Ulfinore retire, and does pretend  
Almost to know her Parents, and the place,  
And even to swear her brother was his friend.   

55.  
But wary Ulfinore (who beauteous Truth  
Did never but in plainest Dress behold)  
Smiles, and remembers Tales to forward Youth  
In winter Nights by Country Matrons told:   

56.  
Of Witches Towns, where ●eeming Beauties dwell,  
All hair, and black within, Maids that can fly:  
Whose Palaces at night are smoky Hell,  
And in their beds their slaughtered Lovers lie.   

57  
And though the Sun now setting, he no Lights  
Saw burning blue, nor Steam of Sulphur smelled,  
Nor took her two black Mer●on Maids for spirits,  
Yet he a secret touch of Honour felt.   

58.  
For not the craft of Rivalship (though more  
Than States wise Rivals study interest)  
Can make him leave his friend, till he restore  
Some cold Discretion to his burning breast.   

59  
Though to his fears this cause now serious shows,  
Yet smiles heat his solemn loving Eye:  
For lust in reading Beauty seldom grows,  
As old Physicians in Anatomy.   

60.  
Goltho (said he) 'tis easy to discern  
That you are grave, and think you should be so;  
Since you have business here of great concern,  
And think that you this House and Lady know.   

61.  
You'll stay, and have your Sleep with Music fed,  
But little think to wake with Mandrake's groans,  
And by a Ghost be to a Garden led  
At midnight, strewed with simple Lovers bones.   

62.  
This Goltho is enchantment, and so strange,  
So subtly false, that whilst I tell it you,  
I fear the Spell will my opinion change,  
And make me think the pleasant vision true.   

63.  
Her dire black Eyes are like the Ox's Eye,  
Which in the Indian Ocean Tempests brings:  
Let's go before our Horses learn to ●lie,  
Ere she show ●loven Feet, and they get wings.   

64.  
But high rebellious Love, when counselled, soon  
As sullen as rebuked Ambition, grows  
And Goltho would pursue what he should shun,  
But that his happier fa●e did interpose.   

65.  
For at the Garden gate a Summons, loud  
Enough to show authority and haste,  
Brought cares to Dalga's Brow, which like a Cloud,  
Did soon her shining Beauty over cast.   

66.  
Like Thiefs surprised whilst they divide their prize,  
Her Maids run and return through every room;  
Still seeming doubtful where their safety lies,  
All speaking with their looks, and all are dumb.   

67.  
She, who to dangers could more boldly wake,  
With words, swift as those errands which her heart  
Sends out in glances, thus to Goltho spoke:  
My Mother, Sir, Alas! You must depart.   

68  
She is severe, as dying Confessors,  
As jealous as unable Husbands are,  
She Youth in Men, like Age in Maids abhors,  
And has more Spies than any Civil War.   

69.  
Yet would you but submit to be concealed,  
I have a Closet secret as my Breast,  
Which is to Men, nor Day, no more revealed,  
Than a closely Swallow in his Winters Nest.   

70.  
To this good Goltho did begin to yield,  
But Ulfinore (who doubts that it may tend  
To base retreat, unless they quit the Field)  
Does by Example govern, and descend.   

71.  
And now his Eyes even wake with longingness,  
Ready to break their strings to get abroad,  
To see this Matron, by whose sole access  
Dalga in all her furious hopes is awed.   

72.  
And as he watched her civil Mercury,  
The hopeful Page, he saw him entrance give,  
Not to a Matron still prepared to die,  
But to a Youth wholly designed to l●ve.   

73.  
He seemed the heir to prosperous Parent's toils,  
Gay as young Kings, who sue in foreign Courts,  
Or youthful Victors in their Persian spoils,  
He seemed like Love and Music made for sports:   

74.  
But wore his clothing loose, and wildly cast,  
As Princes high with feasting, who to win  
Are seldom used, showed warm, and more unbraced  
Than Ravishers opposed in their design.   

75.  
This Ulfinore observed, and would not yet  
In civil pity undeceive his friend;  
But watch the signs of his departing fit,  
Which quickly did in bashful silence end.   

76.  
To the Duke's palace they enquired the way,  
And as they slowly road, a grave excuse  
Grieved Goltho frames, vowing he made this stay,  
For a discovery of important use.   

77.  
If Sir (said he) we heedlessly pass by  
Great Towns, like Birds that from the Country come  
But to be scared, and on to Forests fly;  
Let's be no travelled Fools, but roost at home.   

78.  
I see (replied his friend) you nothing lack  
Of what is painful, curious, and discreet  
In Travellers, else would you not look back  
So often to observe this House and Street.   

79.  
Drawing your City Map with Coasters care,  
Not only marking where safe Channels run,  
But where the Shelves, and Rocks, and Dangers are,  
To teach weak strangers what they ought to shun.   

80.  
But, Goltho, fly from Lust's experiments,  
Whose heat we quench much sooner than assuage,  
To quench the Fornace-lust stop all the vents,  
For give it any Air the Flames will rage.    
FINIS.   

POSTSCRIPT To the Reader.  
I Am here arrived at the middle of the Third Book, which makes an equal half of the POEM; and I was now by degrees to present you (as I promised in the Preface) the several Keys of the main Building; which should convey you through such short Walks as give an easy view of the whole Frame. But 'tis high time to strike Sail, and cast Anchor (though I have run but half my Course) when at the Helm I am threatened with Death; who, though he can visit us but once, seems troublesome; and even in the Innocent may beget such a gravity, as diverts the Music of Verse. And I beseech thee (if thou art so civil as to be pleased with what is written) not to take it ill, that I run not on till my last gasp. For though I intended in this POEM to strip Nature naked, and cloth her again in the perfect shape of Virtue, yet even in so worthy a Design I shall ask leave to desist, when I am interrupted by so great an experiment as Dying: and 'tis an experiment to the most experienced; for no Man (though his Mortifications may be much greater than mine) can say, He has already Died.  
It may be Objected by some (who look not on Verse with the Eyes of the Ancients, nor with the Reverence which it still preserves amongst other Nations) that I beget a POEM in an unseasonable time. But be not thou, Reader, (for thine own sake, as well as mine) a common Spectator, that can never look on great Changes but with tears in his Eyes: for if all Men would observe, That Conquest is the Wheels of the World, on which it has ever run, the Victorious would not think they have done so new, and such admirable actions, as must draw Men from the noble and beautiful▪ Arts, to gaze wholly upon them; neither would the Conquered continue their wonder, till it involve them in sorrow; which is then the Mind's incurable Disease, when the Patient grows so sullen,▪ as not to listen to Remedy: and Poesy was that Harp of David, which removed from Saul, the Melancholy Spirit, that put him in a continual remembrance of the revolution of Empire.  
I shall not think I instruct Military Men, by saying, That with Poesy in Heroic Songs, the Wiser Ancients prepared their Battles; nor would I offend the austerity of such, as vex themselves with the manage of Civil Affairs, by putting them in mind, that whilst the Plays of Children are punished, the plays of Men are but excused under the title of Business.  
But I will gravely tell thee (Reader) he who writes an Heroic POEM, leaves an Estate entailed; and he gives a greater Gift to Posterity, than to the present Age; for a public benefit is best measured in the number of Receivers; and our Contemporaries are but few, when reckoned with those who shall succeed.  
Nor could I sit idle, and sigh with such as mourn to hear the Drum; for if this Age be not quiet enough to be taught Virtue a pleasant way, the next may be at leisure: Nor could I (like men that have civilly slept, till they are old in dark Cities) think War a novelty: For we have all heard, that Alexander walked after the Drum from Macedon into India; and I tell thee (Reader) he carried Homer in his Pocket; and that after Augustus, by many Battles had changed the Government of the world, he and Maecenas often feasted very peaceably with Horace: And that the last wi●e Cardinal (whilst he was sending Armies abroad, and preparing against civil Invasion) took Virgil & Tasso aside under the Lovure Gallery, and at a great expense of time and Treasure, sent them forth in new Ornaments. And perhaps, if my POEM were not so severe a representation of Virtue (undressing Truth even out of those disguises, which have been most in fashion throughout the World) it might arrive at fair entertainment, though it make now for a Harbour in a Storm.  
If thou art a malicious Reader, thou wilt remember, my Preface boldly confessed, That a main motive to this undertaking, was a desire of Fame; and thou mayst likewise say, I may very possibly not live to enjoy it. Truly I have some years ago considered, that Fame, like Time, only gets a reverence by long running; and that like a River, 'tis narrowest where 'tis bred, and broadest afar off: but this concludes it not unprofitable; for he whose Writings divert Men from indiscretion & vice, becomes famous as he is an example to others endeavours: and exemplary Writers are Wiser than to depend on the gratuities of this World; since the kind looks and praises of the present Age, for reclaiming a few, are not mentionable with those solid rewards in Heaven, for a long and continual conversion of Posterity.  
If thou (Reader) art one of those, who has been warmed with Poetic Fire▪ I reverence thee as my Judge, and whilst others tax me with vanity, as if the Preface argued my good opinion of the Work, I appeal to thy Conscience, whether it be more than such a necessary assurance, as thou hast made to thyself in like Undertake? For when I observe that Writers have many Enemies, such inward assurance (me thinks) resembles that forward confidence in Men of Arms, which makes them proceed in great Enterprise; since the right examination of abilities, begins with enquiring whether we doubt ourselves.  
Cowes. Castle in the Isle of Wight, October 22. 1650. WILL. D'AVENANT.  
FINIS.