Gondibert an heroick poem / written by Sir William D'Avenant.
         D'Avenant, William, Sir, 1606-1668.
      
       
         
           1651
        
      
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             Gondibert an heroick poem / written by Sir William D'Avenant.
             D'Avenant, William, Sir, 1606-1668.
             Hobbes, Thomas, 1588-1679.
          
           [2], 64, [4], 243, [6] p.
           
             Printed for John Holden ...,
             London :
             1651.
          
           
             Errata: prelim. p. [2].
             Unfinished, ends with the "middle of the third book; which makes an equal half of the Poem". cf. Postscript.
             "The author's preface to his much honour'd friend Mr. Hobs" (p. 1-51) and "The answer of Mr. Hobbes" (p. 52-64) with a part of the poem were printed at Paris in 1650, under title: A discourse upon Gondibert, an heroick poem ...
             Reproduction of original in Huntington Library.
          
        
      
    
     
       
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           GONDIBERT
           :
           AN
           HEROICK
           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
              
               
                 Thrids
                 .
              
            
             
               
                 64
              
               
                 34
              
               
                 2
              
               
                 for
                 this
                 ,
              
               
                 His.
                 
              
            
             
               
                 70
              
               
                 80
              
               
                 1
              
               
                 for
                 cease
                 ,
              
               
                 Seise
                 .
              
            
             
               
                 153
              
               
                 8
              
               
                 3
              
               
                 for
                 Beedles
                 ,
              
               
                 Needles
              
            
             
               
                 161
              
               
                 67
              
               
                 3
              
               
                 for
                 how
                 ,
              
               
                 whom
                 .
              
            
             
               
                 172
              
               
                 34
              
               
                 4
              
               
                 for
                 morn
                 ,
              
               
                 Moon
                 .
              
            
             
               
                 219
              
               
                 96
              
               
                 4
              
               
                 for
                 lose
                 ,
              
               
                 Loose
                 .
              
            
             
               
                 226
              
               
                 41
              
               
                 ●
              
               
                 for
                 weak
                 ,
              
               
                 ourweaker
                 .
              
            
          
        
      
       
         
         
           THE
           AUTHOUR'S
           PREFACE
           
             To
             his
             much
             honour'd
             Friend
          
           Mr
           HOBS
           .
        
         
           
             SIR
             ,
          
        
         
           SInce
           you
           have
           done
           me
           the
           honour
           to
           allow
           this
           Poem
           a
           daily
           examination
           as
           it
           was
           writing
           ,
           I
           will
           presume
           ,
           now
           it
           hath
           attain'd
           more
           length
           ,
           to
           give
           you
           a
           longer
           trouble
           ;
           that
           you
           may
           yield
           me
           as
           great
           advantages
           by
           censuring
           the
           Method
           ,
           as
           by
           judging
           the
           Numbers
           and
           the
           Matter
           .
           And
           because
           you
           shall
           pass
           through
           this
           New
           Building
           with
           more
           ease
           to
           your
           disquisition
           ,
           I
           will
           acquaint
           you
           what
           care
           I
           took
           of
           my
           materials
           ,
           ere
           I
           began
           to
           work
           .
        
         
           But
           first
           give
           me
           leave
           (
           remembering
           with
           what
           difficulty
           the
           world
           can
           shew
           any
           Heroick
           Poem
           ,
           that
           in
           a
           perfect
           glass
           of
           Nature
           gives
           us
           a
           familiar
           and
           easie
           view
           of
           our selves
           )
           to
           take
           notice
           of
           those
           quarrels
           ,
           which
           the
           Living
           have
           with
           the
           Dead
           :
           and
           I
           will
           (
           according
           as
           all
           times
           have
           applied
           their
           reverence
           )
           begin
           with
           Homer
           ,
           who
           ,
           though
           he
           seems
           to
           me
           standing
           upon
           the
           Poets
           famous
           hill
           ,
           like
           the
           eminent
           Sea-mark
           ,
           by
           which
           they
           have
           in
           
           former
           Ages
           steer'd
           ;
           and
           though
           he
           ought
           not
           to
           be
           removed
           from
           that
           eminence
           ,
           lest
           Posterity
           should
           presumptuously
           mistake
           their
           course
           ;
           yet
           some
           (
           sharply
           observing
           how
           his
           Successours
           have
           proceeded
           no
           farther
           than
           a
           perfection
           of
           imitating
           him
           )
           say
           ,
           that
           as
           Sea-marks
           are
           chiefly
           usefull
           to
           Coasters
           ,
           and
           serve
           not
           those
           who
           have
           the
           ambition
           of
           Discoverers
           ,
           that
           love
           to
           sayl
           in
           untry'd
           Seas
           ;
           so
           he
           hath
           rather
           prov'd
           a
           Guide
           for
           those
           ,
           whose
           satisfied
           Wit
           will
           not
           venture
           beyond
           the
           track
           of
           others
           ;
           than
           to
           them
           ,
           who
           affect
           a
           new
           and
           remote
           way
           of
           thinking
           ;
           who
           esteem
           it
           a
           deficiency
           and
           meaness
           of
           mind
           ,
           to
           stay
           and
           depend
           upon
           the
           authority
           of
           example
           .
        
         
           Some
           there
           are
           ,
           that
           object
           that
           even
           in
           the
           likelyhoods
           of
           Story
           (
           and
           Story
           where
           ever
           it
           seems
           most
           likely
           ,
           grows
           most
           pleasant
           )
           he
           doth
           too
           frequently
           inte●mixe
           such
           Fables
           ,
           as
           are
           objects
           listed
           above
           the
           Eyes
           of
           Nature
           ;
           and
           as
           he
           often
           interrogates
           his
           Muse
           ,
           not
           as
           his
           rational
           Spirit
           but
           as
           a
           Familiar
           ,
           separated
           from
           his
           body
           ,
           so
           her
           replies
           bring
           him
           where
           he
           spends
           time
           in
           immortal
           conversation
           ;
           whilest
           supernaturally
           he
           doth
           often
           advance
           his
           men
           to
           the
           quality
           of
           Gods
           ,
           and
           depose
           his
           Gods
           to
           the
           condition
           of
           men
           .
        
         
           His
           Successour
           to
           fame
           ,
           (
           and
           consequently
           to
           censure
           )
           is
           Virgil
           ;
           whose
           toyls
           nor
           virtue
           cannot
           free
           him
           from
           the
           peevishness
           (
           or
           rather
           curiosity
           )
           of
           divers
           Readers
           .
           He
           is
           upbraided
           by
           some
           (
           who
           perhaps
           are
           affected
           Antiquaries
           ,
           and
           make
           priority
           of
           time
           the
           measure
           of
           excellence
           )
           for
           gaining
           his
           renown
           by
           the
           imitation
           of
           Hom●r
           :
           Whilest
           others
           (
           no
           less
           bold
           with
           that
           ancient
           Guide
           )
           say
           ,
           He
           hath
           so
           often
           led
           him
           into
           Heaven
           and
           Hell
           ,
           till
           by
           conversation
           with
           Gods
           and
           Ghosts
           ,
           he
           sometimes
           deprives
           us
           of
           those
           natural
           probabilities
           in
           Story
           ,
           which
           are
           instructive
           to
           humane
           life
           :
           And
           others
           affirm
           (
           if
           it
           be
           not
           irreverence
           to
           record
           their
           opinion
           )
           That
           even
           in
           Wit
           ,
           he
           seems
           deficient
           by
           many
           omissions
           ;
           as
           if
           he
           had
           design'd
           a
           penance
           of
           gravity
           to
           himself
           and
           to
           posterity
           :
           And
           by
           their
           observing
           that
           continued
           gravity
           ,
           me
           thinks
           they
           look
           upon
           
           him
           ,
           as
           on
           a
           Musitian
           composing
           of
           Anthems
           ;
           whose
           excellence
           consists
           more
           in
           the
           solemness
           ,
           than
           in
           the
           fancy
           ;
           and
           upon
           the
           body
           of
           his
           Work
           ,
           as
           on
           the
           body
           of
           a
           Giant
           ,
           whose
           force
           hath
           more
           of
           strength
           ,
           than
           quickness
           ,
           and
           of
           patience
           than
           activity
           .
        
         
           But
           these
           bold
           Censurers
           are
           in
           danger
           of
           so
           many
           Enemies
           ,
           as
           I
           shall
           wise●y
           shrink
           from
           them
           ;
           and
           onely
           observe
           ,
           That
           if
           any
           Disciples
           of
           unimitable
           Virgil
           can
           prove
           so
           formal
           ,
           as
           to
           esteem
           Wit
           (
           as
           if
           it
           were
           levity
           )
           an
           imputation
           to
           the
           Heroick
           Muse
           (
           by
           which
           malevolent
           word
           ,
           Wit
           ,
           they
           would
           disgrace
           her
           extraordinary
           heights
           )
           yet
           if
           those
           grave
           Judges
           will
           be
           held
           wise
           ,
           they
           must
           endure
           the
           fate
           of
           Wise
           men
           ;
           who
           always
           have
           but
           few
           of
           their
           society
           ;
           for
           many
           more
           than
           consist
           of
           their
           number
           (
           perhaps
           not
           having
           the
           sullenness
           to
           be
           of
           it
           )
           are
           taken
           with
           those
           bold
           flights
           ,
           and
           think
           ,
           't
           is
           with
           the
           Muse
           (
           whose
           noble
           Quarry
           is
           men
           )
           as
           with
           the
           Eagle
           ,
           who
           when
           he
           soars
           high
           ,
           stoops
           more
           prosperously
           ,
           and
           is
           most
           certain
           of
           his
           prey
           .
           And
           surely
           Poets
           (
           whose
           business
           should
           represent
           the
           Worlds
           true
           image
           often
           to
           our
           view
           )
           are
           not
           less
           prudent
           than
           Painters
           ,
           who
           when
           they
           draw
           Landschaps
           ,
           entertain
           not
           the
           Eye
           wholly
           with
           even
           Prospect
           ;
           and
           a
           continued
           Flat
           ;
           but
           (
           for
           variety
           )
           terminate
           the
           sight
           with
           lofty
           Hills
           ,
           whose
           obscure
           heads
           are
           sometimes
           in
           the
           clouds
           .
        
         
           Lucan
           ,
           who
           chose
           to
           write
           the
           greatest
           actions
           that
           ever
           were
           allowed
           to
           be
           true
           (
           which
           for
           fear
           of
           contemporary
           witnesses
           ,
           oblig'd
           him
           to
           a
           very
           close
           attendance
           upon
           Fame
           )
           did
           not
           observe
           that
           such
           an
           enterprize
           rather
           beseem'd
           an
           Historian
           ,
           than
           a
           Poet
           :
           for
           wise
           Poets
           think
           it
           more
           worthy
           to
           seek
           out
           truth
           in
           the
           Passions
           ,
           than
           to
           record
           the
           truth
           of
           Actions
           ;
           and
           practise
           to
           describe
           Mankind
           ,
           just
           as
           we
           are
           perswaded
           or
           guided
           by
           instinct
           ,
           not
           particular
           persons
           ,
           as
           they
           are
           lifted
           ,
           or
           levell'd
           by
           the
           force
           of
           Fate
           ,
           it
           being
           nobler
           to
           contemplate
           the
           general
           History
           of
           Nature
           ,
           than
           a
           selected
           Diary
           of
           Fortune
           :
           And
           Painters
           are
           no
           more
           than
           Historians
           ,
           when
           they
           draw
           eminent
           persons
           (
           though
           they
           term
           that
           drawing
           to
           the
           life
           )
           but
           when
           
           by
           assembling
           divers
           figures
           in
           a
           larger
           volume
           ,
           they
           draw
           Passions
           (
           though
           they
           term
           it
           but
           Story
           )
           then
           they
           increase
           in
           dignity
           and
           become
           Poets
           .
        
         
           I
           have
           been
           thus
           hardy
           to
           call
           him
           to
           account
           for
           the
           choice
           of
           his
           Argument
           ,
           not
           meerly
           as
           it
           was
           Story
           ,
           but
           because
           the
           actions
           he
           recorded
           were
           so
           eminent
           ,
           and
           so
           near
           his
           time
           ,
           that
           he
           could
           not
           assist
           Truth
           with
           such
           ornaments
           as
           Poets
           ,
           for
           usefull
           pleasure
           ,
           have
           allowed
           her
           ,
           le●t
           the
           ●ained
           complection
           might
           render
           the
           true
           suspected
           .
           And
           now
           I
           will
           leave
           to
           others
           the
           presumption
           of
           measuring
           his
           Hyperboles
           ,
           by
           whose
           space
           and
           height
           they
           maliciously
           take
           the
           dimension
           of
           wit
           ;
           and
           so
           mistake
           him
           in
           his
           boyling
           Youth
           (
           which
           had
           marvellous
           forces
           )
           as
           we
           disrelish
           Wine
           ,
           when
           fuming
           in
           the
           Lee.
           
        
         
           Statius
           (
           with
           whom
           we
           may
           conclude
           the
           old
           Heroicks
           )
           is
           as
           accomptable
           to
           some
           for
           his
           obligations
           to
           Virgil
           ,
           as
           Virgil
           is
           to
           others
           for
           what
           he
           owes
           to
           Homer
           ;
           and
           more
           closely
           than
           Virgil
           waits
           on
           Homer
           ,
           doth
           Statius
           attend
           Virgil
           ,
           and
           follows
           him
           there
           also
           where
           Nature
           never
           comes
           ,
           even
           into
           Heaven
           and
           Hell
           :
           and
           therefore
           he
           cannot
           escape
           such
           as
           approve
           the
           wisdom
           of
           the
           best
           Dramaticks
           ;
           who
           in
           representation
           of
           examples
           ,
           believe
           they
           prevail
           most
           on
           our
           manners
           ,
           when
           they
           lay
           the
           Scene
           at
           home
           in
           their
           own
           Countrey
           ;
           so
           much
           they
           avoid
           those
           remote
           Regions
           of
           Heaven
           and
           Hell
           :
           as
           if
           the
           People
           (
           whom
           they
           make
           civil
           by
           an
           easie
           communication
           with
           reason
           (
           and
           familiar
           reason
           is
           that
           which
           is
           call'd
           the
           civility
           of
           the
           Stage
           )
           were
           become
           more
           discreet
           than
           to
           have
           their
           eyes
           perswaded
           by
           the
           descending
           of
           Gods
           in
           gay
           Clouds
           ,
           and
           more
           manly
           ,
           than
           to
           be
           frighted
           with
           the
           rising
           of
           Ghosts
           in
           Smoke
           .
        
         
           Tasso
           (
           who
           reviv'd
           the
           Heroick
           flame
           after
           it
           was
           many
           Ages
           quench'd
           )
           is
           held
           both
           in
           time
           and
           merit
           ,
           the
           first
           of
           the
           Moderns
           ;
           an
           honour
           by
           which
           he
           gains
           not
           much
           ,
           because
           the
           number
           he
           excells
           must
           needs
           be
           few
           ,
           which
           affords
           but
           one
           fit
           to
           succeed
           him
           ;
           for
           I
           will
           yield
           to
           their
           opinion
           ,
           who
           permit
           not
           Ariosto
           ,
           no
           nor
           
             Du
             Bartas
          
           in
           this
           eminent
           rank
           of
           the
           Heroicks
           :
           rather
           than
           to
           make
           way
           
           by
           their
           admission
           for
           
             Dante
             ,
             Marino
          
           ,
           and
           others
           .
           Tasso's
           honour
           too
           is
           chiefly
           allow'd
           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
           Heroick
           Poesie
           (
           which
           ,
           if
           it
           exact
           in
           it self
           ,
           yields
           not
           to
           any
           other
           humane
           work
           )
           flow'd
           but
           in
           few
           ,
           and
           even
           those
           streams
           descended
           but
           from
           one
           Grecian
           Spring
           ;
           and
           't
           is
           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
           errours
           ,
           which
           are
           deriv'd
           from
           the
           Ancients
           when
           examin'd
           ,
           grow
           in
           a
           great
           degree
           excusable
           in
           them
           ,
           and
           by
           being
           his
           admit
           no
           pardon
           .
           Such
           as
           are
           his
           Councel
           assembled
           in
           Heaven
           ,
           his
           Witches
           Expeditions
           through
           the
           Air
           ,
           and
           enchanted
           Woods
           inhabited
           with
           Ghosts
           .
           For
           though
           the
           elder
           Poets
           (
           which
           were
           then
           the
           sacred
           Priests
           )
           fed
           the
           World
           with
           supernatural
           Tales
           ,
           and
           so
           compounded
           the
           Religion
           ,
           of
           Pleasure
           and
           Mysterie
           ,
           (
           two
           Ingredients
           which
           never
           fail'd
           to
           work
           upon
           the
           People
           )
           whilest
           for
           the
           eternity
           of
           their
           Chiefs
           (
           more
           refin'd
           by
           education
           )
           they
           surely
           intended
           no
           such
           vain
           provision
           .
           )
           Yet
           a
           Christian
           Poet
           ,
           whose
           Religion
           little
           needs
           the
           aids
           of
           Invention
           ,
           hath
           less
           occasion
           to
           imitate
           such
           Fables
           ,
           as
           meanly
           illustrate
           a
           probable
           Heaven
           ,
           by
           the
           fashion
           and
           dignity
           of
           Courts
           ;
           and
           make
           a
           resemblance
           of
           Hell
           ,
           out
           of
           the
           Dreams
           of
           frighted
           Women
           ;
           by
           which
           they
           continue
           and
           increase
           the
           melancholy
           mistakes
           of
           the
           People
           .
        
         
           Spencer
           may
           stand
           here
           as
           the
           last
           of
           this
           short
           File
           of
           Heroick
           Poets
           ;
           Men
           ,
           whose
           intellectuals
           were
           of
           so
           great
           a
           making
           ,
           (
           though
           some
           have
           thought
           them
           lyable
           to
           those
           few
           Censures
           we
           have
           mentioned
           )
           as
           perhaps
           they
           will
           in
           worthy
           memory
           out-last
           ,
           even
           Makers
           of
           Laws
           ,
           and
           Founders
           of
           Empires
           ,
           and
           all
           but
           such
           as
           must
           therefore
           live
           equally
           with
           them
           ,
           because
           they
           have
           recorded
           their
           names
           ;
           
           and
           consequently
           with
           their
           own
           hands
           led
           them
           to
           the
           Temple
           of
           Fame
           .
           And
           since
           we
           have
           dar'd
           to
           remember
           those
           exceptions
           which
           the
           Curious
           have
           against
           them
           ,
           it
           will
           not
           be
           expected
           I
           should
           forget
           what
           is
           objected
           against
           spencer
           ;
           whose
           obsolete
           Language
           we
           are
           constrained
           to
           mention
           ,
           though
           it
           be
           grown
           the
           most
           vulgar
           accusation
           that
           is
           laid
           to
           his
           charge
           .
        
         
           Language
           (
           which
           is
           the
           onely
           Creature
           of
           Man's
           creation
           )
           hath
           like
           a
           Plant
           ,
           seasons
           of
           flourishing
           and
           decay
           ;
           like
           Plants
           is
           remov'd
           from
           one
           soyl
           to
           another
           ,
           and
           by
           being
           so
           transplanted
           ,
           doth
           often
           gather
           vigour
           and
           increase
           .
           But
           as
           it
           is
           false
           husbandrie
           to
           graft
           old
           branches
           upon
           young
           stocks
           :
           so
           we
           may
           wonder
           that
           our
           Language
           (
           not
           long
           before
           his
           time
           created
           out
           of
           a
           confusion
           of
           others
           ,
           &
           then
           beginning
           to
           flourish
           like
           a
           new
           Plant
           )
           should
           (
           as
           helps
           to
           its
           increase
           )
           receive
           from
           his
           hand
           ,
           new
           grafts
           of
           old
           wither'd
           words
           .
           But
           this
           vulgar
           exception
           ,
           shall
           onely
           have
           the
           vulgar
           excuse
           ;
           which
           is
           ,
           that
           the
           unlucky
           choice
           of
           his
           Stanza
           ,
           hath
           by
           repitition
           of
           Rhime
           ,
           brought
           him
           to
           the
           necessity
           of
           many
           exploded
           words
           .
        
         
           If
           we
           proceed
           from
           his
           Language
           to
           his
           Argument
           ,
           we
           must
           observe
           with
           others
           ,
           that
           his
           noble
           and
           most
           artfull
           hands
           deserv'd
           to
           be
           employed
           upon
           matter
           of
           a
           more
           natural
           ,
           and
           therefore
           of
           a
           more
           usefull
           kind
           .
           His
           allegorical
           Story
           (
           by
           many
           held
           defective
           in
           the
           connexion
           )
           resembling
           (
           me
           thinks
           )
           a
           continuance
           of
           extraordinarie
           Dreams
           ;
           such
           as
           excellent
           Poets
           ,
           and
           Painters
           ,
           by
           being
           over-studious
           ,
           may
           have
           in
           the
           beginning
           of
           Feavers
           :
           And
           those
           moral
           visions
           are
           just
           of
           so
           much
           use
           to
           humane
           application
           ,
           as
           painted
           History
           ,
           when
           with
           the
           cousenage
           of
           lights
           ,
           it
           is
           represented
           in
           Scenes
           ,
           by
           which
           we
           are
           much
           less
           informed
           than
           by
           actions
           on
           the
           Stage
           .
        
         
           Thus
           ,
           Sir
           ,
           I
           have
           (
           perhaps
           )
           taken
           pains
           to
           make
           you
           think
           me
           malicious
           ,
           in
           observing
           how
           far
           the
           Curious
           have
           look'd
           into
           the
           errours
           of
           others
           ;
           Errours
           which
           the
           natural
           humour
           of
           imitation
           hath
           made
           so
           like
           in
           all
           (
           even
           from
           Homer
           to
           Spencer
           )
           as
           the
           accusations
           against
           the
           first
           
           appear
           but
           little
           more
           than
           repitition
           in
           every
           process
           against
           the
           rest
           :
           and
           comparing
           the
           resemblance
           of
           errour
           in
           persons
           of
           one
           generation
           ,
           to
           that
           which
           is
           in
           those
           of
           another
           age
           ;
           we
           may
           find
           it
           exceeds
           not
           any
           where
           ,
           notoriously
           ,
           the
           ordinary
           proportion
           .
           Such
           limits
           to
           the
           progress
           of
           every
           thing
           (
           even
           of
           worthiness
           as
           well
           as
           defect
           )
           doth
           imitation
           give
           :
           for
           whilest
           we
           imitate
           others
           ,
           we
           can
           no
           more
           excel
           them
           ,
           than
           he
           that
           sayls
           by
           others
           Maps
           can
           make
           a
           new
           discovery
           :
           and
           to
           Imitation
           ,
           Nature
           (
           which
           is
           the
           onely
           visible
           power
           ,
           and
           operation
           of
           God
           )
           perhaps
           doth
           needfully
           enclineus
           ,
           to
           keep
           us
           from
           excesses
           .
           For
           though
           every
           man
           be
           capable
           of
           worthiness
           and
           unworthiness
           (
           as
           they
           are
           defined
           by
           Opinion
           )
           yet
           no
           man
           is
           built
           strong
           enough
           to
           bear
           the
           extremities
           of
           either
           ,
           without
           unloading
           himself
           upon
           others
           shoulders
           ,
           even
           to
           the
           weariness
           of
           many
           .
           If
           courage
           be
           worthiness
           ,
           yet
           where
           it
           is
           over-grown
           into
           extreams
           ,
           it
           becomes
           as
           wilde
           and
           hurtfull
           as
           ambition
           ;
           and
           so
           what
           was
           reverenced
           for
           protection
           ,
           grows
           to
           be
           abhorr'd
           for
           oppression
           :
           If
           Learning
           (
           which
           is
           not
           Knowledge
           ,
           but
           a
           continu'd
           Sayling
           by
           fantastick
           and
           uncertain
           winds
           towards
           it
           )
           be
           worthiness
           ,
           yet
           it
           hath
           bounds
           in
           all
           Philosophers
           ;
           and
           Nature
           that
           measur'd
           those
           bounds
           ,
           seems
           not
           so
           partial
           ,
           as
           to
           allow
           it
           in
           any
           one
           a
           much
           larger
           extent
           than
           in
           another
           :
           as
           if
           in
           our
           fleshly
           building
           ,
           she
           consider'd
           the
           furniture
           and
           the
           room
           ,
           alike
           ,
           and
           together
           ;
           for
           as
           the
           compass
           of
           Diadems
           commonly
           fits
           the
           whole
           succession
           of
           those
           Kings
           that
           wear
           them
           ;
           so
           throughout
           the
           whole
           World
           ,
           a
           very
           few
           inches
           may
           distinguish
           the
           circumference
           of
           the
           heads
           of
           their
           Subjects
           :
           Nor
           need
           we
           repine
           that
           Nature
           hath
           not
           some
           Favorites
           ,
           to
           whom
           she
           doth
           dispence
           this
           Treasure
           ,
           Knowledge
           ,
           with
           a
           prodigious
           Liberality
           .
           For
           as
           there
           is
           no
           one
           that
           can
           be
           said
           vastly
           to
           exceed
           all
           mankind
           ;
           so
           divers
           that
           have
           in
           learning
           transcended
           all
           in
           some
           one
           Province
           ,
           have
           corrupted
           many
           with
           that
           great
           quantity
           of
           false
           gold
           ;
           and
           the
           authority
           of
           their
           stronger
           Science
           hath
           often
           serv'd
           to
           distract
           ,
           or
           pervert
           their
           weaker
           disciples
           .
        
         
         
           And
           as
           the
           qualities
           which
           are
           term'd
           good
           ,
           are
           bounded
           ,
           so
           are
           the
           bad
           ;
           and
           likewise
           limited
           ,
           as
           well
           as
           gotten
           by
           imitation
           ;
           for
           amongst
           those
           that
           are
           extraordinary
           ,
           either
           by
           birth
           or
           brain
           (
           for
           with
           the
           usual
           pride
           of
           Poets
           ,
           I
           pass
           by
           common
           crowds
           ,
           as
           negligently
           as
           Princes
           move
           from
           throngs
           ,
           that
           are
           not
           their
           own
           Subjects
           )
           we
           cannot
           find
           any
           one
           so
           egregious
           (
           admitting
           cruelty
           and
           avarice
           for
           the
           chiefest
           evils
           ;
           and
           errours
           in
           government
           or
           doctrine
           ,
           to
           be
           the
           greatest
           errours
           )
           but
           that
           divers
           of
           former
           or
           succeeding
           times
           may
           enter
           the
           scales
           with
           them
           ,
           and
           make
           the
           Ballance
           even
           ;
           though
           the
           passion
           of
           Historians
           would
           impose
           the
           contrary
           on
           our
           belief
           ;
           who
           in
           dispraise
           of
           evil
           Princes
           ,
           are
           often
           as
           unjust
           and
           excessive
           ,
           as
           the
           common
           People
           :
           for
           there
           was
           never
           any
           Monarch
           so
           cruel
           ,
           but
           he
           had
           living
           subjects
           ,
           nor
           so
           avaricious
           ,
           but
           that
           his
           Subjects
           were
           richer
           than
           himself
           ;
           nor
           ever
           any
           disease
           in
           government
           so
           extreamly
           infectious
           ,
           as
           to
           make
           universal
           Anarchy
           ,
           or
           any
           errour
           in
           Doctrine
           so
           strong
           by
           the
           Maintainer
           ,
           but
           that
           Truth
           (
           though
           it
           wrestled
           with
           her
           often
           ,
           and
           in
           many
           places
           )
           hath
           at
           some
           season
           ,
           and
           on
           some
           ground
           ,
           made
           her
           advantages
           and
           successes
           apparent
           :
           Therefore
           we
           may
           conclude
           ,
           that
           Nature
           ,
           for
           the
           safety
           of
           mankind
           ,
           hath
           as
           well
           (
           by
           dulling
           and
           stopping
           our
           progress
           with
           the
           constant
           humour
           of
           imitation
           )
           given
           limits
           to
           courage
           and
           to
           learning
           ,
           to
           wickedness
           and
           to
           errour
           ,
           as
           it
           hath
           ordain'd
           the
           shelves
           before
           the
           shore
           ,
           to
           restrain
           the
           rage
           and
           excesses
           of
           the
           Sea.
           
        
         
           But
           I
           feel
           (
           Sir
           )
           that
           I
           am
           falling
           into
           the
           dangerous
           Fit
           of
           a
           hot
           Writer
           ;
           for
           in
           stead
           of
           performing
           the
           promise
           which
           begins
           this
           Preface
           ,
           and
           doth
           oblige
           me
           (
           after
           I
           had
           given
           you
           the
           judgement
           of
           some
           upon
           others
           )
           to
           present
           my self
           to
           your
           censure
           ,
           I
           am
           wandering
           after
           new
           thoughts
           :
           but
           I
           shall
           ask
           your
           pardon
           ,
           and
           return
           to
           my
           undertaking
           .
        
         
           My
           Argument
           I
           resolv'd
           should
           consist
           of
           Christian
           persons
           ;
           for
           since
           Religion
           doth
           generally
           beget
           ,
           and
           govern
           manners
           ,
           I
           thought
           the
           example
           of
           their
           actions
           would
           
           prevail
           most
           upon
           our
           own
           ,
           by
           being
           deriv'd
           from
           the
           same
           doctrine
           and
           authority
           ;
           as
           the
           particular
           Sects
           educated
           by
           Philosophers
           ,
           were
           diligent
           and
           piiant
           to
           the
           dictates
           and
           fashions
           of
           such
           as
           deriv'd
           themselves
           from
           the
           same
           Master
           ;
           but
           lazy
           and
           froward
           to
           those
           who
           convers'd
           in
           other
           Schools
           :
           Yet
           all
           these
           Sects
           pretended
           to
           the
           same
           beauty
           ,
           Virtue
           ;
           though
           each
           did
           court
           her
           more
           fondly
           ,
           when
           she
           was
           dress'd
           at
           their
           own
           homes
           ,
           by
           the
           hands
           of
           their
           acquaintance
           :
           And
           so
           Subjects
           bred
           under
           the
           Laws
           of
           a
           Prince
           (
           though
           Laws
           differ
           not
           much
           in
           Morality
           ,
           or
           priviledge
           throughout
           the
           civil
           World
           ;
           being
           every
           where
           made
           for
           direction
           of
           Life
           ,
           more
           than
           for
           sentences
           of
           Death
           )
           will
           rather
           die
           near
           that
           Prince
           ,
           defending
           those
           they
           have
           bin
           taught
           ,
           than
           live
           by
           taking
           new
           from
           another
           .
        
         
           These
           were
           partly
           the
           reasons
           why
           I
           chose
           a
           Story
           of
           such
           Persons
           as
           profess'd
           Chaistian
           Religion
           ;
           but
           I
           ought
           to
           have
           been
           most
           enclin'd
           to
           it
           ,
           because
           the
           Principles
           of
           our
           Religion
           conduce
           more
           to
           explicable
           virtue
           ,
           to
           plain
           demonstrative
           justice
           ,
           and
           even
           to
           Honour
           (
           if
           Virtue
           the
           Mother
           of
           Honour
           be
           voluntary
           ,
           and
           active
           in
           the
           dark
           ,
           so
           as
           she
           need
           not
           Laws
           to
           compel
           her
           ,
           nor
           look
           for
           witnesses
           to
           proclaim
           her
           )
           than
           any
           other
           Religion
           that
           e're
           assembled
           men
           to
           Divine
           Worship
           .
           For
           that
           of
           the
           Jews
           doth
           still
           consist
           in
           a
           sullen
           separation
           of
           themselves
           from
           the
           rest
           of
           humane
           flesh
           ,
           which
           is
           a
           fantastical
           pride
           of
           their
           own
           cleanness
           ,
           and
           an
           uncivil
           disdain
           of
           the
           imagined
           contagiousness
           of
           others
           ,
           and
           at
           this
           day
           ,
           their
           cantonizing
           in
           Tribes
           ,
           and
           shyness
           of
           alliance
           with
           neighbours
           ,
           deserves
           not
           the
           term
           of
           mutual
           love
           ,
           but
           rather
           seems
           a
           bestial
           melancholy
           of
           herding
           in
           their
           own
           Walks
           .
           That
           of
           the
           Ethnicks
           ,
           like
           this
           of
           Mahomet
           ,
           consisted
           in
           the
           vain
           pride
           of
           Empire
           ,
           and
           never
           enjoyn'd
           a
           Jewish
           separation
           ,
           but
           drew
           all
           Nations
           together
           ;
           yet
           not
           as
           their
           companions
           of
           the
           same
           species
           ,
           but
           as
           slaves
           to
           a
           Yoke
           :
           Their
           sanctity
           was
           Honour
           ,
           and
           their
           Honour
           onely
           an
           impudent
           courage
           ,
           or
           dexterity
           in
           destroying
           .
           But
           Christian
           Religion
           hath
           the
           innocence
           of
           village
           neighbour-hood
           ,
           and
           did
           
           anciently
           in
           its
           politicks
           rather
           promote
           the
           interest
           of
           Mankind
           than
           of
           States
           ;
           and
           rather
           of
           all
           States
           than
           of
           one
           ;
           for
           particular
           endeavours
           onely
           in
           behalf
           of
           our
           own
           homes
           ,
           are
           signs
           of
           a
           narrow
           moral
           education
           ,
           not
           of
           the
           vast
           kindness
           of
           Christian
           Religion
           ,
           which
           likewise
           ordain'd
           as
           well
           an
           universal
           communion
           of
           bosoms
           ,
           as
           a
           community
           of
           wealth
           .
           Such
           is
           Christian
           Religion
           in
           the
           precepts
           ,
           and
           was
           once
           so
           in
           the
           practice
           .
           But
           I
           resolv'd
           my
           Poem
           should
           represent
           those
           of
           a
           former
           Age
           ,
           perceiving
           't
           is
           with
           the
           servants
           of
           Christ
           ,
           as
           with
           other
           servants
           under
           temporal
           power
           ,
           who
           with
           all
           cleanness
           ,
           and
           even
           with
           officious
           diligence
           perform
           their
           duty
           in
           their
           Masters
           sight
           ,
           but
           still
           as
           he
           grows
           longer
           absent
           ,
           become
           more
           slothfull
           ,
           unclean
           and
           false
           .
           And
           this
           ,
           who
           ever
           compares
           the
           present
           with
           the
           Primitive
           times
           ,
           may
           too
           palpably
           discern
           .
        
         
           When
           I
           consider'd
           the
           actions
           which
           I
           meant
           to
           describe
           ,
           (
           those
           inferring
           the
           persōs
           )
           I
           was
           again
           perswaded
           rather
           to
           chuse
           those
           of
           a
           former
           Age
           ,
           than
           the
           present
           ;
           &
           in
           a
           Century
           so
           far
           remov'd
           ,
           as
           might
           preserve
           me
           from
           their
           improper
           examinations
           ,
           who
           know
           not
           the
           requisites
           of
           a
           Poem
           ,
           nor
           how
           much
           pleasure
           they
           lose
           (
           and
           even
           the
           pleasures
           of
           Heroick
           Poesie
           are
           not
           unprofitable
           )
           who
           take
           away
           the
           liberty
           of
           a
           Poet
           ,
           and
           fetter
           his
           feet
           in
           the
           shackles
           of
           an
           Historian
           :
           For
           why
           should
           a
           Poet
           doubt
           in
           Story
           to
           mend
           the
           intrigues
           of
           Fortune
           by
           more
           delightfull
           conveyances
           of
           probable
           fictions
           ,
           because
           austere
           Historians
           have
           enter'd
           into
           bond
           to
           truth
           ?
           an
           obligation
           which
           were
           in
           Poets
           ,
           as
           foolish
           and
           unnecessary
           as
           is
           the
           bondage
           of
           false
           Martyrs
           ,
           who
           lye
           in
           chains
           for
           a
           mistaken
           opinion
           :
           but
           by
           this
           I
           would
           imply
           ,
           that
           Truth
           narrative
           and
           past
           ,
           is
           the
           Idol
           of
           Historians
           ,
           (
           who
           worship
           a
           dead
           thing
           )
           and
           truth
           operative
           ,
           and
           by
           effects
           continually
           alive
           ,
           is
           the
           Mistress
           of
           Poets
           ,
           who
           hath
           not
           her
           existence
           in
           matter
           ,
           but
           in
           reason
           .
        
         
           I
           was
           likewise
           more
           willing
           to
           derive
           my
           Theme
           from
           elder
           times
           ,
           as
           thinking
           it
           no
           little
           mark
           of
           skilfulness
           to
           comply
           with
           the
           common
           Infirmity
           ;
           for
           men
           (
           even
           of
           the
           
           best
           education
           )
           discover
           their
           eyes
           to
           be
           weak
           ,
           when
           they
           look
           upon
           the
           glory
           of
           virtue
           (
           which
           is
           great
           actions
           )
           and
           rather
           endure
           it
           at
           distance
           than
           near
           ;
           being
           more
           apt
           to
           believe
           ,
           and
           love
           the
           renown
           of
           Predecessors
           ,
           than
           of
           Contemporaries
           ,
           whose
           deeds
           excelling
           theirs
           in
           their
           own
           sight
           ,
           seem
           to
           upbraid
           them
           ,
           and
           are
           not
           reverenc'd
           as
           examples
           of
           Virtue
           ,
           but
           envi'd
           as
           the
           favours
           of
           Fortune
           :
           But
           to
           make
           great
           Actions
           credible
           ,
           is
           the
           principal
           Art
           of
           Poets
           ;
           who
           though
           they
           allow
           the
           utilitie
           of
           Fictions
           ,
           should
           not
           (
           by
           altering
           and
           subliming
           Storie
           )
           make
           use
           of
           their
           priviledge
           to
           the
           detriment
           of
           the
           Reader
           ;
           whose
           incredulitie
           (
           when
           things
           are
           not
           represented
           in
           proportion
           )
           doth
           much
           allay
           the
           relish
           of
           his
           pitie
           ,
           hope
           ,
           joy
           ,
           and
           other
           Passions
           :
           for
           we
           may
           descend
           to
           compare
           the
           deceptions
           in
           Poesie
           to
           those
           of
           them
           that
           profess
           dexteritie
           of
           Hand
           ,
           which
           resembles
           Conjuring
           ,
           and
           to
           such
           we
           come
           not
           with
           the
           intention
           of
           Lawyers
           to
           examine
           the
           evidence
           of
           Facts
           ,
           but
           are
           content
           (
           if
           we
           like
           the
           carriage
           of
           their
           feigned
           motion
           )
           to
           pay
           for
           being
           well
           deceiv'd
           .
        
         
           As
           in
           the
           choise
           of
           time
           ,
           so
           of
           place
           ,
           I
           have
           comply'd
           with
           the
           weakness
           of
           the
           generalitie
           of
           men
           ;
           who
           think
           the
           best
           objects
           of
           their
           own
           countrey
           so
           little
           to
           the
           size
           of
           those
           abroad
           ,
           as
           if
           they
           were
           shew'd
           them
           by
           the
           wrong
           end
           of
           a
           Prospective
           :
           For
           man
           (
           continuing
           the
           appetites
           of
           his
           first
           Childhood
           ,
           till
           he
           arrive
           at
           his
           second
           which
           is
           more
           froward
           )
           must
           be
           quieted
           with
           something
           that
           he
           thinks
           excellent
           ,
           which
           he
           may
           call
           his
           own
           ;
           but
           when
           he
           sees
           the
           like
           in
           other
           places
           (
           not
           staying
           to
           compare
           them
           )
           wrangles
           at
           all
           he
           has
           .
           This
           leads
           us
           to
           observe
           the
           craftiness
           of
           the
           Comicks
           ,
           who
           are
           onely
           willing
           when
           they
           describe
           humour
           (
           and
           humour
           is
           the
           drunkness
           of
           a
           Nation
           which
           no
           sleep
           can
           cure
           )
           to
           lay
           the
           Scaene
           in
           their
           own
           countrey
           ;
           as
           knowing
           we
           are
           (
           like
           the
           Son
           of
           Noah
           )
           so
           little
           distasted
           to
           behold
           each
           others
           shame
           ,
           that
           we
           delight
           to
           see
           even
           that
           of
           a
           Father
           :
           yet
           when
           they
           would
           set
           forth
           greatness
           and
           excellent
           virtue
           ,
           (
           which
           is
           the
           Theme
           of
           Tragedie
           )
           publickly
           to
           the
           people
           ;
           they
           wisely
           (
           to
           avoid
           
           the
           quarrels
           of
           neighbourly
           envie
           )
           remove
           the
           Scaene
           from
           home
           .
           And
           by
           their
           example
           I
           travell'd
           too
           ;
           and
           Italie
           (
           which
           was
           once
           the
           Stage
           of
           the
           World
           )
           I
           have
           made
           the
           Theatre
           ,
           where
           I
           shew
           in
           either
           Sex
           ,
           some
           patterns
           of
           humane
           life
           ,
           that
           are
           (
           perhaps
           )
           fit
           to
           be
           follow'd
           .
        
         
           Having
           told
           you
           why
           I
           took
           the
           actions
           that
           should
           be
           my
           Argument
           from
           men
           of
           our
           own
           Religion
           ▪
           and
           given
           you
           reasons
           for
           the
           choyce
           of
           the
           time
           and
           place
           design'd
           for
           those
           actions
           ;
           I
           must
           next
           acquaint
           you
           with
           the
           Schools
           where
           they
           were
           bred
           ;
           not
           meaning
           the
           Schools
           where
           they
           took
           their
           Religion
           ,
           but
           Moralitie
           ;
           for
           I
           know
           Religion
           is
           universally
           rather
           inherited
           than
           taught
           :
           and
           the
           most
           effectual
           Schools
           of
           Moralitie
           are
           Courts
           and
           Camps
           :
           Yet
           towards
           the
           first
           ,
           the
           people
           are
           unquiet
           through
           envie
           ;
           and
           towards
           the
           other
           through
           fear
           ;
           and
           always
           jealous
           of
           both
           for
           Injustice
           ,
           which
           is
           the
           natural
           scandal
           cast
           upon
           authoritie
           and
           great
           force
           .
           They
           look
           upon
           the
           outward
           glory
           or
           blaze
           of
           Courts
           ,
           as
           wild
           Beasts
           in
           dark
           nights
           stare
           on
           their
           Hunters
           Torches
           ;
           but
           though
           the
           expences
           of
           Courts
           (
           whereby
           they
           shine
           )
           is
           that
           consuming
           glory
           in
           which
           the
           people
           think
           their
           libertie
           is
           wasted
           (
           for
           wealth
           is
           their
           libertie
           and
           lov'd
           by
           them
           even
           to
           jealousie
           (
           being
           themselves
           a
           courser
           sort
           of
           Princes
           ,
           apter
           to
           take
           than
           to
           pay
           )
           yet
           Courts
           (
           I
           mean
           all
           abstracts
           of
           the
           multitude
           ;
           either
           by
           King
           ,
           or
           Assemblies
           )
           are
           not
           the
           Schools
           where
           men
           are
           bred
           to
           oppression
           ,
           but
           the
           Temples
           where
           sometimes
           Oppressours
           take
           sanctuarie
           ;
           a
           safetie
           which
           our
           reason
           must
           allow
           them
           .
           For
           the
           ancient
           laws
           of
           Sanctuarie
           (
           derived
           from
           God
           )
           provided
           chiefly
           for
           actions
           that
           proceeded
           from
           necessitie
           ;
           and
           who
           can
           imagine
           less
           than
           a
           necessitie
           of
           oppressing
           the
           people
           ,
           since
           they
           are
           never
           willing
           either
           to
           buy
           their
           Peace
           ,
           or
           to
           pay
           for
           War
           ?
        
         
           Nor
           are
           Camps
           the
           Schools
           of
           wicked
           Destroyers
           ,
           more
           than
           the
           
             Inns
             of
             Court
          
           (
           being
           the
           Nurserie
           of
           Judges
           )
           are
           the
           Schools
           of
           Murderers
           ;
           for
           as
           Judges
           are
           avengers
           of
           private
           men
           against
           private
           Robbers
           ;
           so
           are
           Armies
           the
           avengers
           
           of
           the
           Publick
           against
           publick
           Invaders
           ,
           either
           civil
           or
           forreign
           :
           and
           Invaders
           are
           Robbers
           ,
           though
           more
           in
           countenance
           than
           those
           of
           the
           High
           way
           ,
           because
           of
           their
           number
           .
           Nor
           is
           there
           other
           difference
           between
           Armies
           when
           they
           move
           towards
           Sieges
           or
           Battel
           ,
           and
           Judges
           moving
           in
           their
           Circuit
           (
           during
           the
           danger
           of
           extraordinarie
           malefactors
           )
           with
           the
           guards
           of
           the
           Countie
           ;
           but
           that
           the
           latter
           is
           a
           less
           Army
           ,
           and
           of
           less
           Discipline
           .
           If
           any
           man
           can
           yet
           doubt
           of
           the
           necessarie
           use
           of
           Armies
           ,
           let
           him
           studie
           that
           which
           was
           anciently
           call'd
           a
           Monster
           ,
           the
           Multitude
           ,
           (
           for
           Wolves
           are
           commonly
           harmless
           when
           they
           are
           met
           alone
           ,
           but
           very
           uncivil
           in
           Herds
           )
           and
           he
           will
           not
           find
           that
           all
           his
           kindred
           by
           Adam
           are
           so
           tame
           and
           gentle
           ,
           as
           those
           Lovers
           that
           were
           bred
           in
           Arcadia
           :
           or
           to
           reform
           his
           opinion
           ,
           let
           him
           ask
           why
           (
           during
           the
           utmost
           age
           of
           Historie
           )
           Cities
           have
           been
           at
           the
           charge
           of
           defensive
           Walls
           ,
           and
           why
           Fortification
           hath
           been
           practic'd
           so
           long
           ,
           till
           it
           is
           grown
           an
           Art
           ?
        
         
           I
           may
           now
           believe
           I
           have
           usefully
           taken
           from
           Courts
           and
           Camps
           ,
           the
           patterns
           of
           such
           as
           will
           be
           fit
           to
           be
           imitated
           by
           the
           most
           necessary
           men
           ;
           and
           the
           most
           necessary
           men
           are
           those
           who
           become
           principal
           by
           prerogative
           of
           bloud
           ,
           (
           which
           is
           seldom
           unassisted
           with
           education
           )
           or
           by
           greatness
           of
           mind
           ,
           which
           in
           exact
           definition
           is
           Virtue
           .
           The
           common
           Crowd
           (
           of
           whom
           we
           are
           hopeless
           )
           we
           desert
           ,
           being
           rather
           to
           be
           corrected
           by
           laws
           (
           where
           precept
           is
           accompanied
           with
           punishment
           )
           than
           to
           be
           taught
           by
           Poesie
           ;
           for
           few
           have
           arriv'd
           at
           the
           skill
           of
           Orpheus
           ,
           or
           at
           his
           good
           fortune
           ,
           whom
           we
           may
           suppose
           to
           have
           met
           with
           extraordinarie
           Grecian
           Beasts
           ,
           when
           so
           succesfully
           he
           reclaim'd
           them
           with
           his
           Harp.
           Nor
           is
           it
           needfull
           that
           Heroick
           Poesie
           should
           be
           levell'd
           to
           the
           reach
           of
           Common
           men
           :
           for
           if
           the
           examples
           it
           presents
           prevail
           upon
           their
           Chiefs
           ,
           the
           delight
           of
           Imitation
           (
           which
           we
           hope
           we
           have
           prov'd
           to
           be
           as
           effectual
           to
           good
           as
           to
           evil
           )
           will
           rectifie
           by
           the
           rules
           ,
           which
           those
           Chiefs
           establish
           of
           their
           own
           lives
           ,
           the
           lives
           of
           all
           that
           behold
           them
           ;
           for
           the
           example
           of
           life
           ,
           doth
           as
           much
           surpass
           the
           force
           of
           Precept
           ,
           as
           Life
           doth
           exceed
           Death
           .
        
         
         
           In
           the
           choice
           of
           these
           Objects
           (
           which
           are
           as
           Sea-marks
           to
           direct
           the
           dangerous
           voyage
           of
           life
           )
           I
           thought
           fit
           to
           follow
           the
           rule
           of
           Coasting
           Maps
           ,
           where
           the
           Shelves
           and
           Rocks
           are
           describ'd
           as
           well
           as
           the
           safe
           Channel
           ;
           the
           care
           being
           equal
           how
           to
           avoid
           as
           to
           proceed
           :
           and
           the
           Characters
           of
           men
           (
           whose
           passions
           are
           to
           be
           eschew'd
           )
           I
           have
           deriv'd
           from
           the
           distempers
           of
           Love
           or
           Ambition
           :
           for
           Love
           and
           Ambition
           are
           too
           often
           the
           raging
           Feavers
           of
           great
           minds
           .
           Yet
           Ambition
           (
           if
           the
           vulgar
           acception
           of
           the
           word
           were
           corrected
           )
           would
           signifie
           no
           more
           than
           an
           extraordinary
           lifting
           of
           the
           feet
           in
           the
           rough
           ways
           of
           Honour
           ,
           over
           the
           impediments
           of
           Fortune
           ;
           and
           hath
           a
           warmth
           (
           till
           it
           be
           chaf'd
           into
           a
           Fever
           )
           which
           is
           necessary
           for
           every
           virtuous
           breast
           :
           for
           good
           men
           are
           guiltie
           of
           too
           little
           appetite
           to
           greatness
           ,
           and
           it
           either
           proceeds
           from
           that
           they
           call
           contentedness
           (
           but
           contentedness
           ,
           when
           examin'd
           ,
           doth
           mean
           something
           of
           Lasiness
           as
           well
           as
           Moderation
           )
           or
           from
           some
           melancholy
           precept
           of
           the
           Cloyster
           ;
           where
           they
           would
           make
           life
           (
           for
           which
           the
           world
           was
           onely
           made
           )
           more
           unpleasant
           than
           Death
           :
           as
           if
           Nature
           ,
           the
           Vicegerent
           of
           God
           (
           who
           in
           providing
           delightfull
           varieties
           ,
           which
           virtuous
           greatness
           can
           best
           possess
           ,
           or
           assure
           peaceably
           to
           others
           ,
           implicitly
           commanded
           the
           use
           of
           them
           )
           should
           in
           the
           necessaries
           of
           life
           (
           life
           being
           her
           chief
           business
           )
           though
           in
           her
           whole
           reign
           she
           never
           committed
           one
           error
           ,
           need
           the
           counsel
           of
           Fryars
           ,
           whose
           solitude
           makes
           them
           no
           more
           fit
           for
           such
           direction
           ,
           than
           Prisoners
           long
           fetter'd
           are
           for
           a
           race
           .
        
         
           In
           saying
           this
           ,
           I
           onely
           awaken
           such
           retir'd
           men
           ,
           as
           evaporate
           their
           strength
           of
           mind
           by
           close
           and
           long
           thinking
           ;
           and
           would
           every
           where
           separate
           the
           Soul
           from
           the
           Bodie
           ,
           ere
           we
           are
           dead
           ,
           by
           perswading
           us
           (
           though
           they
           were
           both
           created
           and
           have
           been
           long
           companions
           together
           )
           that
           the
           preferment
           of
           the
           one
           must
           meerly
           consist
           in
           deserting
           the
           other
           ;
           teaching
           us
           to
           court
           the
           Grave
           ,
           as
           if
           during
           the
           whole
           lease
           of
           life
           ,
           we
           were
           like
           Moles
           to
           live
           under
           ground
           ;
           or
           as
           if
           long
           and
           well
           dying
           ,
           were
           the
           
           certain
           means
           to
           live
           in
           Heaven
           :
           Yet
           Reason
           (
           which
           though
           the
           most
           profitable
           Talent
           God
           hath
           given
           us
           ,
           some
           Divines
           would
           have
           Philosophers
           to
           bury
           in
           the
           Napkin
           ,
           and
           not
           put
           it
           to
           use
           )
           perswade
           us
           ,
           that
           the
           painfull
           activeness
           of
           Virtue
           (
           for
           Faith
           on
           which
           some
           wholly
           depend
           ,
           seems
           but
           a
           contemplative
           boast
           till
           the
           effects
           of
           it
           grow
           exemplary
           by
           action
           )
           will
           more
           probably
           acquire
           everlasting
           dignities
           .
           And
           surely
           if
           these
           severe
           Masters
           (
           who
           though
           obscure
           in
           Cells
           ,
           take
           it
           ill
           if
           their
           very
           opinions
           rule
           not
           all
           abroad
           )
           did
           give
           good
           men
           leave
           to
           be
           industrious
           in
           getting
           a
           Share
           of
           governing
           the
           world
           ,
           the
           Multitudes
           (
           which
           are
           but
           Tenants
           to
           a
           few
           Monarchs
           )
           would
           endure
           that
           subjection
           which
           God
           hath
           decreed
           them
           ,
           with
           better
           order
           ,
           and
           more
           ease
           ;
           for
           the
           world
           is
           onely
           ill
           govern'd
           ,
           because
           the
           wicked
           take
           more
           pains
           to
           get
           authority
           ,
           than
           the
           virtuous
           ;
           for
           the
           virtuous
           are
           often
           preach'd
           into
           retirement
           ;
           which
           is
           to
           the
           publick
           as
           unprofitable
           as
           their
           sleep
           ;
           and
           the
           erroneousness
           of
           such
           lazy
           rest
           ,
           let
           Philosophers
           judge
           ;
           since
           Nature
           (
           of
           whose
           body
           man
           thinks
           himself
           the
           chiefest
           member
           )
           hath
           not
           any
           where
           ,
           at
           any
           time
           ,
           been
           respited
           from
           action
           (
           in
           her
           ,
           call'd
           motion
           )
           by
           which
           she
           universally
           preserves
           and
           makes
           Life
           .
           Thus
           much
           of
           Ambition
           which
           should
           have
           succeeded
           something
           I
           was
           saying
           of
           Love.
           
        
         
           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
           consider'd
           definition
           ;
           that
           indefinite
           Love
           is
           Lust
           ;
           and
           Lust
           when
           it
           is
           determin'd
           to
           one
           ,
           is
           Love
           ;
           This
           definition
           too
           but
           intrudes
           it self
           on
           what
           I
           was
           about
           to
           say
           ,
           which
           is
           (
           and
           spoken
           with
           soberness
           though
           like
           a
           Lay-man
           )
           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
           Feaver
           )
           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
           onely
           Characters
           I
           design'd
           to
           expose
           as
           objects
           of
           terrour
           :
           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
           onely
           the
           Rabble
           is
           seen
           at
           common
           executions
           )
           nor
           intended
           to
           raise
           iniquity
           ,
           to
           that
           height
           of
           horrour
           ,
           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
           ,
           a●●ustom'd
           their
           Slaves
           to
           vomit
           before
           them
           )
           did
           by
           such
           fulsom
           examples
           ,
           rather
           teach
           them
           to
           disdain
           the
           Slaves
           ,
           than
           to
           Ioath
           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
           Romane
           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
           accomp●
           of
           such
           provisions
           as
           I
           made
           for
           this
           new
           Building
           ;
           and
           you
           may
           next
           please
           (
           having
           examin'd
           the
           substance
           )
           to
           take
           a
           view
           of
           the
           form
           ;
           and
           observe
           if
           I
           have
           methodically
           and
           with
           discretion
           ,
           dispos'd
           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
           Indexes
           of
           Books
           )
           that
           any
           Nation
           hath
           in
           representment
           of
           great
           actions
           (
           either
           by
           Heroicks
           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
           Heroick
           Poem
           :
           In
           which
           I
           did
           not
           onely
           observe
           the
           Symmetrie
           (
           proportioning
           five
           Books
           to
           five
           Acts
           ,
           and
           Canto's
           to
           Scenes
           ,
           (
           the
           Scenes
           having
           their
           number
           ever
           govern'd
           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
           follow'd
           :
           and
           those
           compositions
           of
           second
           beauty
           ,
           I
           observe
           in
           the
           Drama
           to
           be
           the
           under-walks
           ,
           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
           promis'd
           at
           the
           parting
           of
           the
           first
           Act.
           The
           third
           makes
           a
           visible
           correspondence
           in
           the
           under-walks
           (
           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
           under-walks
           ,
           and
           a
           counter-turn
           to
           that
           main
           design
           which
           chang'd
           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
           discernable
           ,
           and
           ends
           with
           an
           easie
           untying
           of
           those
           particular
           knots
           ,
           which
           made
           a
           contexture
           of
           the
           whole
           ;
           leaving
           such
           satisfaction
           of
           probabilities
           with
           the
           Spectatour
           ,
           as
           may
           perswade
           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
           describ'd
           )
           appear
           to
           them
           as
           pleasant
           as
           a
           summer
           passage
           on
           a
           crooked
           River
           ,
           where
           going
           about
           ,
           and
           turning
           back
           ,
           is
           as
           delightfull
           as
           the
           delays
           of
           parting
           Lovers
           .
        
         
           In
           placing
           the
           Argument
           (
           as
           a
           Proem
           )
           before
           every
           Ca●to
           ,
           I
           have
           not
           wholly
           follow'd
           the
           example
           of
           the
           Moderns
           ;
           but
           averted
           it
           from
           that
           purpose
           to
           which
           I
           found
           it
           frequently
           us'd
           :
           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
           satisfie
           the
           longing
           curiosity
           of
           the
           Guests
           .
           And
           that
           which
           I
           have
           call'd
           my
           Argument
           ,
           is
           onely
           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
           dependancies
           of
           the
           general
           design
           ;
           yet
           each
           rather
           mentions
           every
           person
           acting
           ,
           than
           their
           actions
           :
           But
           he
           is
           very
           unskilfull
           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
           surprize
           ,
           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
           enjoy'd
           her
           .
        
         
           I
           shall
           say
           a
           little
           ,
           why
           I
           have
           chosen
           my
           inter-woven
           Stanza
           of
           four
           ,
           though
           I
           am
           not
           oblig'd
           to
           excuse
           the
           choice
           ;
           for
           numbers
           in
           Verse
           must
           ,
           like
           distinct
           kinds
           of
           Musick
           ,
           be
           expos'd
           to
           the
           uncertain
           and
           different
           taste
           of
           several
           Ears
           .
           Yet
           I
           may
           declare
           ,
           that
           I
           believ'd
           it
           would
           be
           more
           pleasant
           to
           the
           Reader
           ,
           in
           a
           Work
           of
           length
           ,
           to
           give
           this
           respite
           or
           pause
           ,
           between
           every
           Stanza
           (
           having
           endeavour'd
           that
           each
           should
           contain
           a
           period
           )
           than
           to
           run
           him
           out
           of
           breath
           with
           continu'd
           Couplets
           .
           Nor
           doth
           alternate
           Rhyme
           by
           any
           lowliness
           of
           cadence
           ,
           make
           the
           sound
           less
           Heroick
           ,
           but
           rather
           adapt
           it
           to
           a
           plain
           and
           stately
           composing
           of
           Musick
           ;
           and
           the
           brevity
           of
           the
           Stanza
           renders
           it
           less
           subtile
           to
           the
           Composer
           ,
           and
           more
           easie
           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
           prevail'd
           most
           towards
           my
           choice
           of
           this
           Stanza
           ,
           and
           my
           division
           of
           the
           main
           work
           into
           Canto's
           ,
           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
           allow'd
           in
           Pegasus
           ,
           if
           it
           be
           a
           praise
           to
           other
           Horses
           )
           as
           to
           presume
           they
           might
           (
           like
           the
           Works
           of
           Homer
           ere
           they
           were
           joyn'd
           together
           ,
           and
           made
           a
           Volume
           by
           the
           Athenian
           King
           )
           be
           sung
           at
           Village-feasts
           ;
           though
           not
           to
           Monarchs
           after
           Victory
           ,
           nor
           to
           Armies
           before
           battel
           .
           For
           so
           (
           as
           an
           inspiration
           of
           glory
           into
           the
           one
           ,
           and
           of
           valour
           into
           the
           other
           )
           did
           Homer's
           Spirit
           ,
           long
           after
           his
           bodies
           rest
           ,
           wander
           in
           musick
           about
           Greece
           .
        
         
           Thus
           you
           have
           the
           Model
           of
           what
           I
           have
           already
           built
           ,
           or
           shall
           hereafter
           joyn
           to
           the
           same
           frame
           .
           If
           I
           be
           accus'd
           of
           Innovation
           ,
           or
           to
           have
           transgress'd
           against
           the
           method
           of
           the
           Ancients
           ;
           I
           shall
           think
           my self
           secure
           in
           believing
           ,
           that
           a
           Poet
           who
           hath
           wrought
           with
           his
           own
           instruments
           at
           a
           new
           design
           ,
           is
           no
           more
           answerable
           for
           disobedience
           to
           Predecessours
           ,
           than
           Law-makers
           are
           lyable
           to
           those
           old
           Laws
           which
           themselves
           have
           repealed
           .
        
         
           Having
           describ'd
           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
           shew
           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
           design'd
           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
           subt'lest
           threds
           ;
           and
           like
           that
           of
           the
           Spider
           ,
           is
           considerately
           woven
           out
           of
           our selves
           ;
           for
           a
           Spider
           may
           be
           said
           to
           consider
           ,
           not
           onely
           respecting
           his
           solemness
           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
           onely
           the
           luck
           and
           labour
           ,
           but
           also
           the
           dexteritie
           of
           thought
           ,
           rounding
           the
           world
           ,
           like
           the
           Sun
           ,
           with
           unimaginable
           motion
           ;
           and
           bringing
           swiftly
           home
           to
           the
           memorie
           ,
           universal
           surveys
           .
           It
           is
           the
           Souls
           Powder
           ,
           which
           when
           supprest
           (
           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
           Cel
           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
           inclos'd
           ,
           till
           great
           bodies
           are
           more
           examinable
           by
           being
           scatter'd
           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
           deriv'd
           from
           the
           Deitie
           It
           is
           in
           Divines
           ,
           Humilitie
           ,
           Exemplariness
           and
           Moderation
           ;
           in
           States-men
           ,
           Gravitie
           ,
           Vigilance
           ,
           Benign
           Complacencie
           ,
           Secrecie
           ,
           Patience
           and
           Dispatch
           ;
           in
           Leaders
           of
           Armies
           ,
           Valor
           ,
           Painfulness
           ,
           Temperance
           ,
           Bountie
           ,
           Dexteritie
           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
           abilitie
           to
           bring
           those
           comprehensions
           into
           action
           ,
           when
           they
           shall
           so
           far
           forget
           the
           true
           measure
           of
           what
           is
           of
           greatest
           consequence
           to
           humanitie
           ,
           (
           which
           are
           things
           righteous
           ,
           pleasant
           and
           usefull
           )
           as
           to
           think
           the
           delights
           of
           Greatness
           equal
           to
           that
           of
           Poesie
           ;
           or
           the
           Chiefs
           of
           any
           Profession
           more
           necessary
           to
           the
           world
           ,
           than
           excellent
           Poets
           .
           Lastly
           ,
           though
           Wit
           be
           not
           the
           envie
           of
           ignorant
           Men
           ,
           't
           is
           often
           of
           evil
           States-men
           ,
           and
           of
           all
           such
           imperfect
           great
           spirits
           ,
           as
           have
           it
           in
           a
           less
           degree
           than
           Poets
           :
           for
           though
           no
           man
           envies
           the
           excellencie
           of
           that
           ,
           which
           in
           no
           proportion
           he
           ever
           tasted
           ,
           (
           as
           men
           cannot
           be
           said
           to
           envie
           the
           condition
           of
           Angels
           )
           yet
           we
           may
           say
           the
           Devil
           envies
           the
           Supremacie
           of
           God
           ,
           because
           he
           was
           in
           some
           degree
           partaker
           of
           his
           glory
           .
        
         
           That
           which
           is
           not
           ,
           yet
           is
           accounted
           ,
           Wit
           ,
           I
           will
           but
           sleightly
           remember
           ;
           which
           seems
           very
           incident
           to
           imperfect
           
           youth
           ,
           and
           sickly
           age
           ;
           Young
           men
           (
           as
           if
           they
           were
           not
           quite
           deliver'd
           from
           Childhood
           ,
           whose
           first
           exercise
           is
           Language
           )
           imagine
           it
           consists
           in
           the
           Musick
           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
           practis'd
           the
           dexteritie
           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
           call'd
           Conceits
           ,
           things
           that
           sound
           like
           the
           knacks
           or
           toys
           of
           ordinarie
           Epigrammatists
           :
           and
           from
           thence
           ,
           after
           more
           conversation
           and
           varietie
           of
           objects
           ,
           grow
           up
           to
           some
           force
           of
           Fancie
           ;
           Yet
           even
           then
           ,
           like
           young
           Hawks
           ,
           they
           stray
           and
           flie
           far
           off
           ,
           using
           their
           libertie
           as
           if
           they
           would
           nere
           return
           to
           the
           Lure
           ;
           and
           often
           go
           at
           check
           ,
           ere
           they
           can
           make
           a
           stedie
           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
           wonderfull
           things
           ,
           or
           in
           comparing
           of
           times
           without
           a
           discover'd
           partialitie
           ;
           which
           they
           perform
           so
           ill
           by
           favouring
           the
           past
           ,
           that
           ,
           as
           't
           is
           observ'd
           ,
           if
           the
           bodies
           of
           men
           should
           grow
           less
           ,
           though
           but
           an
           unmeasurable
           proportion
           in
           Seven
           years
           ,
           yet
           reckoning
           from
           the
           Floud
           ,
           they
           would
           not
           remain
           in
           the
           Stature
           of
           Frogs
           ;
           So
           if
           States
           and
           particular
           persons
           had
           impair'd
           in
           government
           ,
           and
           increas'd
           in
           wickedness
           proportionably
           to
           what
           Old
           men
           affirm
           they
           have
           done
           ,
           from
           their
           own
           infancie
           to
           their
           age
           ;
           all
           publick
           Policie
           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
           &
           Beautie
           ;
           by
           which
           severitie
           they
           seem
           cruel
           as
           Herod
           when
           he
           surpris'd
           the
           sleeping
           Children
           of
           Bethlem
           :
           for
           Youth
           is
           so
           far
           from
           wanting
           Enemies
           ,
           that
           it
           is
           mortally
           its
           own
           ;
           so
           unpractis'd
           ,
           that
           it
           is
           everywhere
           cosen'd
           more
           than
           a
           stranger
           among
           Jews
           ;
           &
           hath
           an
           infirmitie
           of
           sight
           more
           hurtfull
           than
           Blindness
           to
           Blind
           men
           ;
           for
           though
           it
           cannot
           chuse
           the
           way
           it
           scorns
           to
           be
           led
           .
           And
           Beautie
           ,
           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
           Traytors
           ,
           though
           not
           in
           conspiracie
           ,
           yet
           in
           their
           distinct
           designs
           ;
           and
           to
           make
           her
           certain
           not
           onely
           of
           distress
           but
           ruin
           ,
           she
           is
           ever
           pursu'd
           by
           her
           most
           cruel
           enemie
           ,
           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
           compos'd
           ,
           Wit
           ;
           but
           onely
           tell
           you
           my
           endeavour
           was
           ,
           in
           bringing
           Truth
           (
           too
           often
           absent
           )
           home
           to
           mens
           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
           .
        
         
           'T
           is
           now
           fit
           ,
           after
           I
           have
           given
           you
           so
           long
           a
           survay
           of
           the
           Building
           ,
           to
           render
           you
           some
           accompt
           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
           hastie
           digestions
           of
           thought
           which
           were
           published
           in
           my
           Youth
           ;
           a
           sentence
           not
           pronounc'd
           out
           of
           melancholly
           rigour
           ,
           but
           from
           a
           cheerfull
           obedience
           to
           the
           just
           authoritie
           ,
           of
           experience
           :
           For
           that
           grave
           Mistress
           of
           the
           World
           ,
           Experience
           (
           in
           whose
           profitable
           School
           ,
           those
           before
           the
           Floud
           stay'd
           long
           ,
           but
           we
           like
           wanton
           children
           come
           thither
           late
           ,
           yet
           too
           soon
           are
           call'd
           out
           of
           it
           ,
           and
           fetch'd
           home
           by
           Death
           )
           hath
           taught
           
           me
           ,
           that
           the
           engenderings
           of
           unripe
           age
           become
           abortive
           ,
           and
           deform'd
           ;
           and
           that
           after
           obtaining
           more
           years
           ,
           those
           must
           needs
           prophesie
           with
           ill
           success
           ,
           who
           make
           use
           of
           their
           Visions
           in
           Wine
           ;
           That
           when
           the
           ancient
           Poets
           were
           valu'd
           as
           Prophets
           ,
           they
           were
           long
           and
           painfull
           in
           watching
           the
           correspondence
           of
           Causes
           ,
           ere
           they
           presum'd
           to
           foretel
           effects
           :
           and
           that
           't
           is
           a
           high
           pesumption
           to
           entertain
           a
           Nation
           (
           who
           are
           Poets
           standing
           Guest
           ,
           and
           require
           Monarchical
           respect
           )
           with
           hastie
           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
           mov'd
           with
           a
           slow
           pace
           ;
           that
           I
           might
           make
           my
           survays
           as
           one
           that
           travelled
           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
           acknoledge
           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
           believ'd
           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
           traduc'd
           ,
           as
           if
           Poesie
           concern'd
           the
           World
           no
           more
           than
           Dancing
           ;
           whose
           onely
           grace
           is
           the
           quickness
           and
           facilitie
           of
           motion
           ;
           and
           whole
           perfection
           is
           not
           of
           such
           publick
           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
           Poesie
           )
           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
           undisciplin'd
           first
           thoughts
           :
           For
           a
           wise
           Poet
           ,
           like
           a
           wise
           General
           ,
           will
           not
           shew
           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
           painfull
           Poets
           some
           upbraid
           the
           want
           of
           extemporary
           fury
           ,
           or
           rather
           inspiration
           ,
           a
           dangerous
           word
           ;
           which
           many
           have
           of
           late
           successfully
           us'd
           ;
           and
           inspiration
           is
           a
           spiritual
           Fit
           ,
           deriv'd
           from
           the
           ancient
           Ethnick
           Poets
           ,
           who
           then
           ,
           as
           they
           were
           Priests
           ,
           were
           States-men
           too
           ,
           and
           probably
           lov'd
           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
           authentick
           example
           pretend
           authoritie
           over
           the
           people
           ;
           It
           being
           not
           unreasonable
           to
           imagine
           ,
           they
           rather
           imitate
           the
           Greek
           Poets
           ,
           than
           the
           Hebrew
           Prophets
           ,
           since
           the
           later
           were
           inspir'd
           for
           the
           use
           of
           others
           ;
           and
           these
           ,
           like
           the
           former
           ,
           prophesie
           for
           themselves
           .
           But
           though
           the
           ancient
           Poets
           are
           excus'd
           ,
           as
           knowing
           the
           weak
           constitution
           of
           those
           Deities
           from
           whom
           they
           took
           their
           Priesthood
           ;
           and
           the
           frequent
           necessitie
           of
           dissembling
           for
           the
           ease
           of
           Government
           :
           yet
           these
           (
           who
           also
           from
           the
           chief
           to
           the
           meanest
           are
           States-men
           and
           Priests
           ,
           but
           have
           not
           the
           luck
           to
           be
           Poets
           )
           should
           not
           assume
           such
           saucie
           familiaritie
           with
           a
           true
           God.
           
        
         
           From
           the
           time
           and
           labour
           requir'd
           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
           publish'd
           his
           Wisdom
           in
           rightly
           understanding
           the
           vast
           extent
           of
           his
           enterprise
           :
           Who
           likewise
           with
           as
           much
           glorie
           made
           use
           of
           Fellers
           of
           Wood
           ,
           and
           Hewers
           of
           Stone
           ,
           as
           of
           learned
           Architects
           :
           Nor
           have
           I
           refrain'd
           to
           be
           oblig'd
           to
           men
           of
           any
           Science
           ,
           as
           well
           mechanical
           
           as
           liberal
           :
           Nor
           when
           Memorie
           (
           from
           that
           various
           and
           plentifull
           stock
           ,
           with
           which
           all
           observers
           are
           furnish'd
           ,
           that
           have
           had
           diversitie
           of
           life
           )
           presented
           me
           by
           chance
           with
           any
           figure
           ,
           did
           I
           lay
           it
           aside
           as
           useless
           ,
           because
           at
           that
           instant
           I
           was
           not
           skilfull
           to
           manage
           it
           artfully
           ?
           but
           I
           have
           staid
           and
           recorded
           such
           objects
           ,
           till
           by
           consulting
           with
           right
           Masters
           I
           have
           dispos'd
           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
           Enemie
           ,
           to
           save
           his
           own
           life
           at
           a
           pass
           ,
           where
           he
           then
           teaches
           his
           Partie
           to
           escape
           .
        
         
           In
           remembring
           mine
           own
           helps
           ,
           I
           have
           consider'd
           those
           which
           others
           in
           the
           same
           necessitie
           have
           taken
           ;
           and
           find
           that
           Writers
           (
           contrarie
           to
           my
           inclination
           )
           are
           apter
           to
           be
           beholding
           to
           Books
           ,
           than
           to
           Men
           ;
           not
           onely
           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
           secrecie
           ,
           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
           discover'd
           .
           And
           the
           next
           cause
           why
           Writers
           are
           more
           in
           Libraries
           than
           in
           company
           ,
           is
           ,
           that
           Books
           are
           easily
           open'd
           ,
           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
           vanitie
           ,
           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
           lock'd
           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
           inrich
           others
           so
           easily
           ,
           as
           if
           they
           stood
           every
           where
           with
           their
           Pockets
           spred
           ,
           &
           ready
           to
           be
           pickt
           :
           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
           Authour
           of
           that
           written
           Wit
           ,
           as
           much
           as
           his
           Father
           was
           Authour
           of
           him
           :
           Nor
           of
           any
           Husband
           that
           to
           his
           darling
           Wife
           would
           so
           far
           surrender
           his
           Wisdom
           ,
           as
           that
           in
           publique
           ,
           he
           could
           endure
           to
           let
           her
           use
           his
           Dictates
           ,
           as
           if
           she
           would
           have
           others
           think
           her
           wiser
           than
           himself
           .
           By
           this
           rememberance
           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
           ,
           easie
           and
           apparent
           .
           But
           though
           I
           am
           become
           so
           wise
           ,
           by
           knowing
           my self
           ,
           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
           resolv'd
           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
           fearfull
           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
           publick
           ,
           for
           examining
           ,
           correcting
           ,
           and
           allowing
           this
           Poem
           in
           parcels
           ere
           it
           arriv'd
           at
           the
           contexture
           :
           by
           which
           you
           have
           perform'd
           the
           just
           degrees
           of
           proceeding
           with
           Poets
           ;
           who
           during
           the
           gayety
           and
           wantonness
           of
           the
           Muse
           ,
           are
           but
           as
           children
           to
           Philosophers
           (
           though
           of
           some
           Giant
           race
           )
           whose
           first
           thoughts
           (
           wilde
           ,
           and
           roaming
           far
           off
           )
           must
           be
           brought
           home
           ,
           watch'd
           ,
           and
           inter●ogated
           ,
           and
           after
           they
           are
           made
           more
           regular
           ,
           be
           encourag'd
           and
           prais'd
           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
           learn'd
           (
           how
           proud
           soever
           with
           being
           cherish'd
           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
           Enemie's
           Countrey
           ?
           for
           such
           is
           the
           vast
           field
           of
           Learning
           ,
           where
           the
           Learned
           (
           though
           not
           numerous
           enough
           to
           be
           an
           Army
           )
           lye
           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
           your self
           ,
           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
           supream
           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
           enjoy'd
           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
           usefull
           and
           lawfull
           Spie
           )
           may
           make
           up
           such
           greatness
           ,
           as
           is
           fit
           for
           great
           Courts
           :
           or
           if
           the
           rays
           that
           proceed
           from
           the
           Poetick
           Planet
           ,
           be
           not
           a
           little
           too
           strong
           for
           the
           sight
           of
           modern
           Monarchs
           ;
           who
           now
           are
           too
           seldom
           taught
           in
           their
           youth
           ,
           like
           Eaglets
           to
           fortifie
           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
           us'd
           by
           me
           ,
           as
           Princes
           are
           by
           their
           preferr'd
           Subjects
           ;
           who
           in
           the
           very
           act
           of
           taking
           honour
           ,
           return
           it
           to
           the
           Giver
           ;
           as
           benefits
           receiv'd
           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
           )
           arriv'd
           at
           my
           last
           consideration
           ,
           which
           is
           to
           satisfie
           those
           who
           may
           enquire
           why
           I
           have
           taken
           so
           much
           pains
           to
           become
           an
           Authour
           ?
           Or
           why
           any
           man
           stays
           so
           long
           sweating
           at
           the
           fire
           of
           Invention
           ,
           to
           dress
           the
           food
           of
           the
           Minde
           ,
           when
           Readers
           have
           so
           imperfect
           Stomachs
           ,
           as
           they
           either
           devour
           Books
           with
           over
           hasty
           Digestion
           ,
           or
           grow
           to
           loath
           them
           from
           a
           surfet
           .
           And
           why
           I
           more
           especially
           made
           my
           task
           an
           Heroick
           Poem
           ?
           I
           shall
           involve
           the
           two
           first
           Questions
           in
           one
           ;
           as
           submitting
           to
           be
           concern'd
           amongst
           the
           generality
           of
           Writers
           ;
           whose
           Enemies
           being
           many
           ,
           and
           now
           mine
           ,
           we
           must
           joyn
           forces
           to
           oppose
           them
           .
        
         
           Men
           are
           chiefly
           provok'd
           to
           the
           toyl
           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
           finde
           leasure
           to
           inform
           themselves
           ,
           how
           mean
           the
           provisions
           are
           which
           busie
           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
           expence
           of
           the
           very
           subsistance
           of
           Life
           .
           'T
           is
           then
           apparent
           they
           proceed
           by
           the
           instigation
           of
           Fame
           ,
           or
           Conscience
           ;
           and
           I
           believe
           many
           are
           perswaded
           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
           imagin'd
           ;
           Fame
           being
           (
           when
           belonging
           to
           the
           Living
           )
           that
           which
           is
           more
           gravely
           call'd
           ,
           a
           steddy
           and
           necessary
           reputation
           ;
           and
           without
           it
           ,
           hereditary
           Power
           ,
           or
           acquir'd
           greatness
           can
           never
           quietly
           govern
           the
           World.
           'T
           is
           of
           the
           dead
           a
           musical
           glory
           ,
           in
           which
           God
           ,
           the
           Authour
           of
           excellent
           goodness
           ,
           vouchsafes
           to
           take
           a
           continual
           share
           ;
           For
           the
           remember'd
           virtues
           of
           Great
           men
           are
           chiefly
           such
           of
           his
           works
           (
           mention'd
           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
           chearfully
           allow'd
           ,
           and
           religiously
           admir'd
           :
           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
           usefull
           to
           remote
           Posterity
           ;
           and
           to
           our
           Reason
           ,
           't
           is
           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
           oblig'd
           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
           lin'd
           with
           Spiritual
           Books
           ,
           or
           Tracts
           of
           Morality
           ;
           the
           later
           being
           the
           Spiritual
           Counsels
           of
           Lay-men
           ;
           and
           the
           newest
           of
           such
           great
           volumns
           (
           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
           Ethnicks
           to
           make
           way
           for
           the
           Saints
           .
           These
           are
           the
           effects
           of
           their
           labours
           ,
           who
           are
           provok'd
           to
           become
           Authours
           ,
           meerly
           out
           of
           Conscience
           ;
           and
           Conscience
           we
           may
           again
           averre
           to
           be
           often
           so
           unskilfull
           and
           timorous
           ,
           that
           it
           seldom
           gives
           a
           wise
           and
           steddy
           account
           of
           God
           ;
           but
           grows
           jealous
           of
           him
           as
           of
           an
           Adversary
           ,
           and
           is
           after
           melancholy
           visions
           like
           a
           fearfull
           Scout
           ,
           after
           he
           hath
           ill
           survey'd
           the
           Enemy
           ,
           who
           then
           makes
           incongruous
           ,
           long
           ,
           and
           terrible
           Tales
           .
        
         
           Having
           confess'd
           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
           
           Heroick
           ,
           being
           by
           most
           allow'd
           to
           be
           the
           most
           beautifull
           of
           Poems
           ,
           I
           shall
           not
           need
           to
           decide
           the
           quarrels
           of
           Poets
           about
           Degrees
           of
           Excellence
           in
           Poesie
           :
           But
           't
           is
           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
           )
           liv'd
           with
           the
           praise
           ,
           and
           dy'd
           with
           the
           blessing
           of
           all
           Greece
           ,
           for
           gathering
           the
           scatter'd
           limbs
           of
           Homer's
           Works
           into
           a
           Body
           :
           and
           that
           great
           Alexander
           by
           publickly
           conversing
           with
           it
           ,
           attain'd
           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
           sav'd
           from
           destruction
           by
           the
           victors
           reverence
           to
           the
           memory
           of
           Pindar
           :
           That
           the
           elder
           Scipio
           ,
           (
           who
           govern'd
           all
           the
           civil
           world
           )
           lay
           continually
           in
           the
           bosom
           of
           Ennius
           :
           That
           the
           great
           Numantin
           and
           Laelius
           (
           no
           less
           renown'd
           )
           were
           openly
           proud
           when
           the
           Romans
           believ'd
           they
           assisted
           Terence
           in
           his
           Comedies
           :
           That
           Augustus
           (
           to
           whom
           the
           mysteries
           of
           the
           universal
           Empire
           were
           more
           familiar
           ,
           than
           domestick
           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
           approch
           nearer
           our
           own
           times
           ,
           we
           may
           adde
           the
           triumphal
           Entry
           which
           the
           Papacy
           gave
           to
           Petrar●h
           ;
           and
           how
           much
           Tasso
           is
           still
           the
           glory
           and
           delight
           of
           Italie
           .
        
         
           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
           acknowledg'd
           Favorite
           of
           God
           ,
           whom
           he
           had
           gain'd
           by
           excellent
           Praises
           in
           sacred
           Poesie
           .
           And
           I
           fear
           (
           since
           Poesie
           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
           talent
           in
           the
           honour
           of
           mortal
           Princes
           :
           for
           divine
           Praise
           (
           when
           in
           the
           high
           perfection
           ,
           as
           in
           Poets
           ,
           and
           onely
           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
             ;
             
          
           
             The
             diff'ring
             World
             's
             agreeing
             Sacrifice
             ;
          
           
             Where
             Heaven
             divided
             Faiths
             united
             finds
             :
          
           
             But
             Pray'r
             in
             various
             discord
             upward
             flies
             .
          
        
         
           
             90
          
           
             For
             Pray'r
             the
             Ocean
             is
             ,
             where
             diversly
          
           
             Men
             steer
             their
             course
             ,
             each
             to
             a
             sev'ral
             Coast
             ;
          
           
             Where
             all
             our
             Int'rests
             so
             discordant
             be
             ,
          
           
             That
             half
             beg
             winds
             by
             which
             the
             rest
             are
             lost
             .
          
        
         
           
             91
          
           
             By
             Penitence
             when
             We
             our selves
             forsake
             ,
          
           
             'T
             is
             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
             Kings
             excess
             of
             Praise
             may
             fear
             ,
          
           
             Yet
             when
             't
             is
             here
             ,
             like
             Powder
             dang'rous
             grown
             ,
          
           
             Heavens
             Vault
             receives
             what
             would
             the
             Palace
             tear
             .
          
        
         
           After
           this
           contemplation
           ,
           how
           acceptable
           the
           voice
           of
           Poesie
           hath
           been
           to
           God
           ,
           we
           may
           (
           by
           descending
           from
           
           Heaven
           to
           Earth
           )
           consider
           how
           usefull
           it
           is
           to
           Men
           ;
           and
           among
           Men
           ,
           Divines
           are
           the
           chief
           ,
           because
           ordain'd
           to
           temper
           the
           rage
           of
           humane
           power
           by
           spiritual
           menaces
           ,
           as
           by
           sudden
           and
           strange
           threatenings
           madness
           is
           frighted
           into
           Reason
           ;
           and
           they
           are
           sent
           hither
           as
           Liegers
           from
           God
           ,
           to
           conserve
           in
           stedfast
           motion
           the
           slippery
           joynts
           of
           Government
           ;
           and
           to
           perswade
           an
           amity
           in
           divided
           Nations
           :
           therefore
           to
           Divines
           I
           first
           address
           my self
           ;
           and
           presume
           to
           ask
           them
           ,
           why
           ,
           ever
           since
           their
           dominion
           was
           first
           allow'd
           ,
           at
           the
           great
           change
           of
           Religions
           ,
           (
           though
           ours
           more
           than
           any
           inculca●es
           obedience
           ,
           as
           an
           easie
           Medicine
           to
           cool
           the
           impatient
           and
           raging
           world
           into
           a
           quiet
           rest
           )
           mankind
           hath
           been
           more
           unruly
           than
           before
           ?
           it
           being
           ,
           visible
           that
           Empire
           decreas'd
           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
           Republick
           hath
           Seventy
           years
           maintain'd
           their
           Revolt
           to
           the
           disquiet
           of
           many
           Monarchs
           .
           Or
           if
           Divines
           reply
           ,
           we
           cannot
           expect
           the
           good
           effects
           of
           their
           Office
           ,
           because
           their
           spiritual
           Dominion
           is
           not
           allow'd
           as
           absolute
           ,
           then
           it
           may
           be
           ask'd
           them
           more
           severely
           ,
           why
           't
           is
           not
           allow'd
           ?
           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
           endeavour'd
           not
           to
           enlarge
           it
           ,
           believ'd
           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
           dress'd
           ,
           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
           it self
           .
        
         
           But
           if
           Divines
           have
           fail'd
           in
           governing
           Princes
           (
           that
           is
           ,
           of
           being
           entirely
           believ'd
           by
           them
           )
           yet
           they
           might
           obliquely
           have
           rul'd
           them
           ,
           in
           ruling
           the
           People
           ;
           by
           whom
           of
           late
           ,
           Princes
           have
           been
           govern'd
           ;
           and
           they
           might
           probably
           
           rule
           the
           People
           ,
           because
           the
           heads
           of
           the
           Church
           (
           where
           ever
           Christianity
           is
           preach'd
           )
           are
           Te●rarchs
           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
           oblig'd
           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
           then
           they
           may
           converse
           with
           the
           Laity
           ,
           from
           whom
           they
           have
           commonly
           such
           respect
           (
           and
           respect
           soon
           opens
           the
           door
           to
           perswasion
           )
           as
           shews
           their
           Congregations
           not
           deaf
           in
           those
           holy
           seasons
           ,
           when
           speaking
           predominates
           .
        
         
           But
           notwithstanding
           these
           advantages
           ,
           the
           Pulpit
           hath
           little
           prevail'd
           ;
           for
           the
           world
           is
           in
           all
           Regions
           revers'd
           ,
           or
           shaken
           by
           disobedience
           ,
           an
           Engine
           with
           which
           the
           great
           Angels
           (
           for
           such
           were
           the
           Devils
           ,
           and
           had
           faculties
           much
           more
           sublim'd
           than
           Men
           )
           believ'd
           they
           could
           disorder
           Heaven
           .
           And
           it
           is
           not
           want
           of
           capacity
           in
           the
           lower
           Auditory
           that
           makes
           Doctrine
           so
           unsuccessfull
           ;
           for
           the
           people
           are
           not
           simple
           ,
           since
           the
           Gentrie
           (
           ●●en
           of
           strongest
           education
           )
           lack
           sufficient
           defence
           against
           them
           ,
           and
           are
           hourly
           surpriz'd
           in
           (
           their
           common
           Ambushes
           )
           their
           Shops
           :
           For
           on
           sacred
           Days
           they
           walk
           gravely
           and
           sadly
           from
           Temples
           ,
           as
           if
           they
           had
           newly
           buried
           their
           sinfull
           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
           steddy
           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
           Lasie
           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
           license
           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
           perswade
           :
           But
           our
           meaning
           is
           to
           shew
           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
           Ethnicks
           ,
           because
           the
           Poets
           manag'd
           their
           Religion
           ;
           as
           if
           Religion
           could
           walk
           more
           prosperously
           abroad
           ,
           than
           when
           Morality
           (
           respectfully
           ,
           and
           bare-headed
           as
           her
           Usher
           )
           prepares
           the
           way
           :
           it
           being
           no
           less
           true
           ,
           that
           during
           the
           dominion
           of
           Poesie
           ,
           a
           willing
           and
           peacefull
           obedience
           to
           Superiours
           becalm'd
           the
           world
           ;
           then
           that
           obedience
           ,
           like
           the
           marriage
           yoak
           ,
           is
           a
           restraint
           more
           needfull
           and
           advantagious
           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
           Poesie
           ,
           which
           charms
           the
           People
           with
           harmonious
           Precepts
           ;
           and
           whose
           aid
           Divines
           should
           not
           disdain
           ,
           since
           their
           Lord
           (
           the
           Saviour
           of
           the
           World
           )
           vouchsaf'd
           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
           painfull
           Protectours
           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
           putrifie
           ,
           and
           infect
           one
           another
           ,
           if
           the
           Element
           were
           quiet
           :
           so
           is
           it
           with
           mens
           minds
           on
           shore
           ,
           when
           that
           Element
           of
           greatness
           and
           honour
           ,
           Empire
           ,
           stands
           still
           ;
           of
           which
           the
           largeness
           is
           likewise
           as
           needfull
           ,
           as
           the
           vastness
           of
           the
           Sea
           :
           For
           God
           ordain'd
           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
           containd
           in
           a
           narrow
           Fold
           ,
           may
           be
           better
           inform'd
           in
           America
           ,
           where
           little
           Kings
           never
           enjoy
           a
           harmless
           neighbourhood
           ,
           unless
           protected
           defensively
           amongst
           themselves
           ,
           by
           an
           Emperour
           that
           hath
           wide
           possessions
           ,
           and
           priority
           over
           them
           ,
           (
           as
           in
           some
           few
           places
           )
           but
           when
           restrain'd
           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
           battels
           (
           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
           't
           is
           wrested
           from
           supream
           Power
           by
           Commotion
           )
           I
           am
           now
           address'd
           ,
           and
           must
           put
           them
           in
           mind
           (
           though
           not
           upbraidingly
           )
           how
           much
           their
           Mighty
           Predecessours
           were
           anciently
           oblig'd
           to
           Poets
           ;
           whose
           Songs
           (
           recording
           the
           praises
           of
           Conduct
           and
           Valour
           )
           were
           esteem'd
           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
           confess'd
           ,
           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
           vouchsaf'd
           to
           be
           pleas'd
           when
           it
           was
           sent
           him
           by
           his
           own
           Poet
           ;
           why
           is
           it
           not
           lawfull
           for
           virtuous
           men
           to
           be
           cherish'd
           ,
           and
           magnify'd
           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
           Poesie
           ?
           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
           Poesie
           ,
           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
           extraordinarie
           proud
           in
           a
           very
           little
           Countrey
           :
           For
           men
           in
           contracted
           governments
           are
           but
           a
           kind
           of
           Prisoners
           ;
           and
           Prisoners
           by
           long
           restraint
           grow
           wicked
           ,
           malitious
           to
           all
           abroad
           ,
           and
           foolish
           esteemers
           of
           themselves
           ;
           as
           if
           they
           had
           wrong
           in
           not
           enjoying
           every
           thing
           which
           they
           can
           onely
           see
           out
           of
           Windows
           .
        
         
           Our
           last
           application
           is
           to
           States-men
           ,
           and
           makers
           of
           Laws
           ;
           who
           may
           be
           reasonably
           reduc'd
           to
           one
           ;
           since
           the
           second
           differ
           no
           more
           from
           the
           first
           ,
           than
           Judges
           (
           the
           Copies
           of
           Law-makers
           )
           differ
           from
           their
           Originals
           :
           For
           Judges
           ,
           like
           all
           bold
           Interpreters
           ,
           by
           often
           altering
           the
           Text
           ,
           make
           it
           quite
           new
           ;
           and
           States-men
           (
           who
           differ
           not
           from
           Law-makers
           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
           stroak
           him
           into
           the
           Yoak
           :
           and
           in
           the
           Yoak
           of
           State
           ,
           the
           people
           (
           with
           too
           much
           pampering
           )
           grow
           soon
           unruly
           and
           draw
           awrie
           ;
           Yet
           States-men
           and
           Judges
           (
           whose
           business
           is
           Governing
           ,
           and
           the
           thing
           to
           be
           Govern'd
           is
           the
           People
           )
           have
           amongst
           us
           (
           we
           being
           more
           proud
           and
           mistaken
           than
           any
           other
           famous
           Nation
           )
           look'd
           gravely
           upon
           Poetrie
           ,
           and
           with
           a
           negligence
           that
           betray'd
           a
           Northerly
           ignorance
           ;
           as
           if
           they
           believ'd
           they
           could
           perform
           the
           work
           without
           it
           .
           But
           Poets
           (
           who
           with
           wise
           diligence
           studie
           the
           People
           ,
           and
           have
           in
           all
           ages
           by
           an
           insensible
           influence
           govern'd
           their
           manners
           )
           may
           justly
           smile
           when
           they
           perceive
           that
           
             Divines
             ,
             Leaders
             of
             Armies
             ,
             States-men
          
           &
           Judges
           ,
           think
           Religion
           ,
           the
           Sword
           ,
           or
           (
           which
           is
           unwritten
           Law
           ,
           and
           a
           secret
           Confederacie
           of
           Chiefs
           )
           Policie
           ,
           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
           recompence
           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
           threatnings
           ,
           which
           though
           mean
           weapons
           ,
           are
           fitly
           us'd
           ,
           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
           meerly
           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
           Common-wealths
           like
           Kings
           Physitians
           to
           poor
           Patients
           ;
           who
           buy
           the
           cure
           of
           their
           disorder'd
           bodies
           at
           so
           high
           a
           rate
           ,
           that
           they
           may
           be
           said
           to
           change
           their
           Sickness
           for
           Famin.
           Policie
           (
           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
           States-men
           themselves
           :
           whose
           incessant
           labours
           make
           that
           Hectick
           seaver
           of
           the
           mind
           ,
           which
           insensibly
           dispatches
           the
           Bodie
           :
           and
           when
           we
           trace
           States-men
           through
           all
           the
           Histories
           of
           Courts
           ,
           we
           find
           their
           Inventions
           so
           unnecessarie
           to
           those
           that
           succeed
           at
           the
           Helm
           ,
           or
           so
           much
           envi'd
           as
           they
           scarce
           last
           in
           authoritie
           till
           the
           Inventors
           are
           buried
           :
           and
           change
           of
           Designs
           in
           States-men
           (
           their
           designs
           being
           the
           weapons
           by
           which
           States
           are
           defended
           )
           grows
           as
           distructive
           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
           peoples
           anger
           ,
           by
           a
           perpetual
           coming
           in
           of
           new
           Oppressours
           is
           so
           diverted
           in
           considering
           
           those
           whom
           their
           Eyes
           but
           lately
           left
           ,
           as
           they
           have
           not
           time
           enough
           to
           rise
           for
           the
           Publick
           :
           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
           doubtfull
           and
           difficult
           as
           Letters
           on
           buried
           Marble
           ,
           which
           onely
           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
           Humanitie
           )
           than
           an
           Enemie
           values
           a
           strong
           Army
           having
           experience
           of
           their
           Errors
           .
           And
           new
           Laws
           are
           held
           but
           the
           projects
           of
           necessitous
           Power
           ,
           new
           Nets
           spred
           to
           intangle
           Us
           ;
           the
           Old
           being
           accounted
           too
           many
           ,
           since
           most
           are
           believ'd
           to
           be
           made
           for
           Forfeitures
           :
           and
           such
           letting
           of
           bloud
           (
           though
           intended
           by
           Law-makers
           for
           our
           health
           )
           is
           to
           the
           People
           always
           out
           of
           Season
           :
           for
           those
           that
           love
           life
           with
           too
           much
           Passion
           (
           and
           Money
           is
           the
           Life-bloud
           of
           the
           People
           )
           ever
           fear
           a
           Consumption
           .
           But
           be
           Law-makers
           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
           over-grows
           Virtue
           ,
           as
           much
           as
           Weeds
           grow
           faster
           than
           Medicinable
           Herbs
           :
           or
           rather
           that
           Sin
           ,
           like
           the
           fruitfull
           slime
           of
           Nilus
           ,
           doth
           increase
           into
           so
           many
           various
           shapes
           of
           Serpents
           (
           whose
           walks
           and
           retreats
           are
           winding
           and
           unknown
           )
           that
           even
           Justice
           ,
           (
           the
           painfull
           pursuer
           of
           Mischief
           )
           is
           become
           wearie
           ,
           and
           amaz'd
           .
        
         
           After
           these
           meditations
           ,
           me
           thinks
           Government
           resembles
           a
           Ship
           ,
           where
           though
           
             Divines
             ,
             Leaders
          
           of
           
             Armies
             ,
             States-men
          
           ,
           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
           troublesom
           in
           fair
           weather
           ,
           as
           Horses
           in
           a
           Storm
           .
           And
           how
           can
           these
           Pilots
           stedily
           maintain
           their
           course
           to
           the
           Land
           of
           Peace
           and
           Plentie
           ,
           since
           they
           are
           often
           divided
           at
           the
           Helm
           ?
           For
           Divines
           (
           when
           they
           consider
           great
           Chiefs
           )
           suppose
           Armies
           to
           be
           sent
           from
           God
           for
           a
           temporarie
           Plague
           ,
           not
           for
           continual
           Jurisdiction
           ;
           and
           that
           Gods
           extream
           punishments
           (
           of
           which
           Armies
           be
           the
           most
           violent
           )
           are
           ordain'd
           to
           have
           no
           more
           lastingness
           than
           extreams
           in
           Nature
           .
           They
           think
           (
           when
           they
           consider
           States-men
           )
           Policie
           hath
           nothing
           of
           the
           Dove
           ,
           and
           being
           all
           Serpent
           ,
           is
           more
           dangerous
           than
           the
           dangers
           it
           pretends
           to
           prevent
           :
           and
           that
           out-witting
           (
           by
           falshood
           and
           corruption
           )
           adverse
           States
           ,
           or
           the
           People
           (
           though
           the
           People
           be
           often
           the
           greater
           enemie
           and
           more
           perilsom
           being
           nearest
           )
           is
           but
           giving
           reputation
           to
           Sin
           ,
           and
           that
           to
           maintain
           the
           Publick
           by
           politick
           evils
           ,
           is
           a
           base
           prostitution
           of
           Religion
           ,
           and
           the
           prostitution
           of
           Religion
           is
           that
           unpardonable
           whordom
           ,
           which
           so
           much
           anger'd
           the
           Prophets
           .
           They
           think
           Law
           nothing
           but
           the
           Bible
           forcibly
           usurp'd
           by
           covetous
           Lawyers
           ,
           and
           disguis'd
           in
           a
           Paraphrase
           more
           obscure
           than
           the
           Text
           ;
           and
           that
           't
           is
           onely
           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
           perswasion
           ;
           forgetting
           that
           the
           dispatchfull
           ending
           of
           War
           is
           blows
           ;
           and
           that
           the
           natural
           region
           for
           Disputes
           ,
           when
           Nations
           are
           engag'd
           (
           though
           by
           Religion
           )
           is
           the
           Field
           of
           Battel
           ,
           not
           Schools
           and
           Academies
           ;
           which
           they
           believe
           (
           by
           their
           restless
           controversies
           )
           less
           civil
           than
           Camps
           ;
           as
           intestine
           Quarrel
           is
           held
           more
           barbarous
           than
           forreign
           War.
           They
           think
           States-men
           to
           them
           (
           unless
           dignifi'd
           with
           militarie
           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
           subdu'd
           ,
           and
           then
           with
           insatiate
           hunger
           come
           in
           for
           a
           share
           :
           Yet
           sometimes
           with
           the
           Eye
           of
           Envie
           (
           which
           enlarges
           objects
           like
           a
           multiplying
           glass
           )
           they
           behold
           these
           States-men
           ,
           and
           think
           them
           immense
           as
           Whales
           ;
           the
           motion
           of
           whose
           vast
           bodies
           can
           in
           a
           peacefull
           calm
           trouble
           the
           Ocean
           till
           it
           boyl
           ;
           After
           a
           little
           hastie
           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
           Monarchs
           in
           the
           sickness
           of
           Care
           (
           a
           feaver
           in
           the
           head
           )
           when
           for
           the
           humorous
           pleasure
           of
           Diversitie
           ,
           they
           descen●
           from
           purple
           Beds
           ,
           and
           seek
           their
           ease
           upon
           the
           ground
           .
           These
           great
           Leaders
           say
           also
           ,
           that
           Law
           moves
           slowly
           as
           with
           fetter'd
           feet
           ,
           and
           is
           too
           tedious
           in
           redress
           of
           wrongs
           ;
           whilst
           in
           Armies
           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
           onely
           to
           punish
           the
           offences
           of
           particular
           Greatness
           ,
           but
           of
           injurious
           Nations
           .
        
         
           States-men
           look
           on
           Divines
           as
           men
           whose
           long
           solitude
           and
           Meditations
           on
           Heaven
           hath
           made
           them
           Strangers
           upon
           Earth
           :
           and
           't
           is
           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
           diversitie
           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
           States-men
           think
           themselves
           more
           fit
           to
           manage
           Empire
           ,
           than
           Divines
           ;
           whose
           usefulness
           consists
           in
           perswasion
           ;
           and
           perswasion
           is
           the
           last
           medicine
           (
           being
           the
           most
           desperate
           )
           which
           States-men
           apply
           to
           the
           distemper
           of
           the
           People
           :
           for
           their
           distemper
           is
           madness
           ,
           and
           madness
           is
           best
           cur'd
           with
           terrour
           
           and
           force
           .
           They
           think
           that
           Leaders
           of
           Armies
           are
           to
           great
           Empire
           ,
           as
           great
           Rivers
           to
           the
           continent
           ;
           which
           make
           an
           easie
           access
           of
           such
           benefits
           as
           the
           Metropolis
           (
           the
           seat
           of
           Power
           )
           would
           else
           at
           vast
           distances
           with
           difficultie
           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
           acquir'd
           from
           abroad
           :
           They
           are
           to
           little
           Empire
           like
           the
           Sea
           to
           low
           Islands
           ,
           by
           nature
           a
           defence
           from
           Forreigners
           ,
           but
           by
           accident
           ,
           when
           they
           rage
           ,
           a
           deluge
           to
           their
           own
           shore
           .
           And
           at
           all
           seasons
           States-men
           believe
           them
           more
           dangerous
           to
           Government
           than
           themselves
           :
           for
           the
           popularitie
           of
           States-men
           is
           not
           so
           frequent
           as
           that
           of
           Generals
           ;
           or
           if
           by
           rare
           sufficiencie
           of
           Art
           it
           be
           gain'd
           ;
           yet
           the
           force
           of
           crowds
           in
           Cities
           ,
           compar'd
           to
           the
           validitie
           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
           Terrour
           .
           They
           think
           that
           chief
           
             Ministers
             of
             Law
          
           by
           unskilfull
           integritie
           ,
           or
           love
           of
           popularity
           (
           which
           shews
           the
           Mind
           ,
           as
           meanly
           born
           as
           bred
           )
           so
           earnestly
           pursue
           the
           protection
           of
           the
           Peoples
           right
           ,
           that
           they
           neglect
           publick
           Interest
           ;
           &
           though
           the
           Peoples
           right
           and
           publick
           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
           call'd
           to
           assist
           at
           such
           intestine
           War
           ,
           we
           must
           side
           with
           Reason
           ,
           according
           to
           our
           dutie
           ,
           by
           the
           Law
           of
           Nature
           ;
           and
           Natures
           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
           us'd
           ;
           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
           dignitie
           of
           the
           Offended
           ,
           (
           which
           is
           God
           )
           more
           than
           the
           frailtie
           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
           Physitians
           ;
           onely
           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
           distemper'd
           State
           is
           not
           more
           accidental
           ,
           than
           the
           preservation
           of
           it
           is
           uncertain
           ;
           because
           they
           often
           grow
           vain
           with
           success
           ,
           and
           encourage
           a
           restor'd
           State
           to
           such
           hazards
           ,
           as
           shew
           like
           irregularitie
           of
           life
           in
           other
           recover'd
           bodies
           ;
           such
           as
           the
           cautious
           and
           ancient
           gravitie
           of
           Law
           disswaded
           :
           For
           Law
           (
           whose
           temperate
           design
           is
           safetie
           )
           rather
           prevents
           by
           constancie
           of
           Medicine
           (
           like
           a
           continu'd
           Diet
           )
           diseases
           in
           the
           bodie
           politick
           ,
           than
           depends
           after
           a
           permitted
           Sickness
           upon
           the
           chance
           of
           recoverie
           .
           They
           think
           States-men
           strive
           to
           be
           as
           much
           Judges
           of
           Law
           as
           themselves
           ;
           being
           chief
           Ministers
           of
           Law
           ,
           are
           Judges
           of
           the
           People
           ,
           and
           that
           even
           good
           States-men
           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
           Sates-men
           use
           it
           as
           offensive
           Arms
           ,
           with
           which
           in
           forraging
           to
           get
           relief
           for
           Supream
           Power
           ,
           they
           often
           wound
           the
           Publick
           .
        
         
           Thus
           we
           have
           first
           observ'd
           the
           Four
           chief
           aids
           of
           Government
           ,
           (
           
             Religion
             ,
             Arms
             ,
             Policie
          
           ,
           and
           Law
           )
           defectively
           appli'd
           ,
           and
           then
           we
           have
           found
           them
           weak
           by
           an
           emulous
           war
           amongst
           themselves
           :
           it
           follows
           next
           ,
           we
           should
           introduce
           to
           strengthen
           those
           principal
           aids
           (
           stil
           making
           the
           People
           our
           direct
           object
           )
           some
           collateral
           help
           ;
           which
           I
           will
           safely
           presume
           to
           consist
           in
           Poesie
           .
        
         
           We
           have
           observ'd
           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
           shewing
           their
           Masters
           they
           know
           their
           own
           strength
           :
           and
           we
           shall
           not
           erre
           by
           supposing
           that
           this
           conjunction
           of
           four-fold
           Power
           hath
           fail'd
           in
           the
           effects
           of
           authority
           by
           a
           mis-application
           ;
           for
           it
           hath
           rather
           endeavour'd
           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
           onely
           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
           onely
           fail'd
           by
           that
           ,
           but
           by
           a
           main
           errour
           ;
           Because
           the
           subject
           on
           which
           they
           should
           work
           ,
           is
           the
           Mind
           ;
           and
           the
           Mind
           can
           never
           be
           constrain'd
           ,
           though
           it
           may
           be
           gain'd
           by
           perswasion
           :
           And
           since
           Perswasion
           is
           the
           principal
           instrument
           ,
           which
           can
           bring
           to
           fashion
           the
           brittle
           and
           mis-shapen
           mettal
           of
           the
           Mind
           ,
           none
           are
           so
           fit
           to
           this
           important
           work
           as
           Poets
           ;
           whose
           art
           is
           more
           than
           any
           ,
           enabled
           with
           a
           voluntary
           ,
           and
           chearfull
           assistance
           of
           Nature
           ;
           and
           whose
           operations
           are
           as
           restless
           ,
           secret
           ,
           easie
           and
           subtile
           ,
           as
           is
           the
           influence
           of
           Planets
           .
        
         
           I
           must
           not
           forget
           (
           lest
           I
           be
           prevented
           by
           the
           vigilance
           of
           the
           Reader
           )
           that
           I
           have
           profess'd
           not
           to
           represent
           the
           beauty
           of
           Virtue
           in
           my
           Poem
           ,
           with
           hope
           to
           perswade
           common
           men
           ;
           and
           I
           have
           said
           ,
           that
           Divines
           have
           fail'd
           in
           discharging
           their
           share
           of
           Government
           ,
           by
           depending
           upon
           the
           effects
           of
           perswasion
           ;
           and
           that
           States-men
           in
           managing
           the
           people
           ,
           rely
           not
           upon
           the
           perswasion
           of
           Divines
           ,
           but
           upon
           force
           .
           In
           my
           despair
           of
           reducing
           the
           minds
           of
           Common
           men
           ,
           I
           have
           not
           confest
           any
           weakness
           of
           Poesie
           in
           the
           general
           Science
           ;
           but
           rather
           inferr'd
           the
           particular
           strength
           of
           the
           Heroick
           ;
           which
           hath
           a
           force
           that
           over-matches
           the
           infancy
           of
           such
           minds
           as
           are
           enabled
           by
           degrees
           of
           Education
           ;
           but
           there
           are
           lesser
           forces
           in
           other
           kinds
           of
           Poesie
           ,
           by
           which
           they
           may
           train
           and
           prepare
           
           their
           understandings
           ;
           and
           Princes
           and
           Nobles
           being
           reform'd
           and
           made
           Angelical
           by
           the
           Heroi●ks
           ,
           will
           be
           predominant
           lights
           ,
           which
           the
           people
           cannot
           chuse
           but
           use
           for
           direction
           ;
           as
           Glow-worms
           take
           in
           ,
           and
           keep
           the
           Suns
           beams
           till
           they
           shine
           ,
           and
           make
           day
           to
           themselves
           .
        
         
           In
           saying
           that
           Divines
           have
           vainly
           hop'd
           to
           continue
           the
           peace
           of
           Government
           by
           perswasion
           ,
           I
           have
           imply'd
           such
           perswasions
           as
           are
           accompanied
           with
           threatnings
           ,
           and
           seconded
           by
           force
           ;
           which
           are
           the
           perswasions
           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
           perswasions
           of
           Poesie
           ,
           in
           stead
           of
           menaces
           ,
           are
           Harmonious
           and
           Delightfull
           Insinuations
           ,
           and
           never
           any
           constraint
           ;
           unless
           the
           ravishment
           of
           Reason
           ,
           may
           be
           call'd
           Force
           .
           And
           such
           Force
           (
           contrary
           to
           that
           which
           
             Divines
             ,
             Commanders
             ,
             States-men
          
           and
           Lawyers
           use
           )
           begets
           such
           obedience
           as
           is
           never
           weary
           or
           griev'd
           .
        
         
           In
           declaring
           that
           States-men
           think
           not
           the
           State
           wholly
           secure
           by
           such
           manners
           as
           are
           bred
           from
           the
           perswasions
           of
           Divines
           ,
           but
           more
           willingly
           make
           Government
           rely
           upon
           military-force
           ,
           I
           have
           neither
           concluded
           that
           Poets
           are
           unprofitable
           ,
           nor
           that
           States-men
           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
           conquer'd
           ,
           like
           a
           willing
           Bride
           ,
           Force
           should
           so
           behave
           it self
           ,
           as
           noble
           Husbands
           use
           their
           power
           ;
           that
           is
           ,
           by
           letting
           their
           Wives
           see
           the
           Dignity
           and
           Prerogative
           of
           our
           Sex
           (
           which
           is
           the
           Husbands
           harmless
           conquest
           of
           Peace
           )
           continually
           maintain'd
           to
           hinder
           Disobedience
           ,
           rather
           than
           rigorously
           impose
           Duty
           :
           But
           to
           such
           an
           easie
           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
           conquer'd
           by
           Virtue
           ;
           and
           the
           Conquests
           of
           Virtue
           be
           never
           easie
           ,
           but
           where
           her
           forces
           are
           commanded
           by
           Poets
           .
        
         
         
           It
           may
           be
           objected
           ,
           that
           the
           education
           of
           the
           Peoples
           minds
           (
           from
           whence
           virtuous
           Manners
           are
           deriv'd
           )
           by
           the
           several
           kinds
           of
           Poesie
           (
           of
           which
           the
           Dramatick
           hath
           been
           in
           all
           Ages
           very
           successfull
           )
           is
           opposite
           to
           the
           receiv'd
           opinion
           ,
           that
           the
           people
           ought
           to
           be
           continu'd
           in
           ignorance
           ;
           a
           Maxim
           sound●ng
           like
           the
           little
           subtilty
           of
           one
           that
           is
           a
           States
           man
           onely
           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
           heavie
           burden
           which
           Disobedience
           lays
           on
           us
           in
           the
           effects
           of
           civil
           War
           :
           &
           then
           even
           Tyranny
           will
           seem
           much
           lighter
           ,
           when
           the
           hand
           of
           supream
           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
           Poesie
           on
           our
           Stage
           ,
           or
           the
           Heroick
           in
           Musick
           (
           for
           so
           the
           latter
           was
           anciently
           us'd
           )
           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
           peoples
           Representatives
           ,
           but
           not
           the
           people
           )
           doth
           practise
           a
           new
           way
           to
           enlarge
           the
           State
           ,
           by
           making
           every
           Subject
           a
           States-man
           :
           and
           he
           that
           means
           to
           govern
           so
           mournfully
           (
           as
           it
           were
           ,
           without
           any
           Musick
           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
           supream
           Power
           which
           expects
           a
           firm
           obedience
           in
           those
           ,
           who
           are
           not
           us'd
           to
           rejoycing
           ,
           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
           consider'd
           Nature
           ;
           as
           if
           such
           new
           austeritie
           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
           Battels
           (
           the
           most
           solemn
           and
           serious
           business
           of
           Death
           )
           are
           begun
           with
           Trumpets
           and
           Fifes
           ;
           and
           anciently
           were
           continu'd
           with
           more
           diversity
           of
           Musicks
           .
           And
           that
           the
           Grecian
           Laws
           (
           Laws
           being
           the
           gravest
           endeavour
           of
           humane
           Councels
           ,
           for
           the
           ease
           of
           Life
           )
           were
           long
           before
           the
           days
           of
           Lycurgus
           (
           to
           make
           them
           more
           pleasant
           to
           memory
           )
           publish'd
           in
           Verse
           :
           And
           that
           the
           wise
           Athenians
           (
           dividing
           into
           three
           Parts
           the
           publick
           Revenue
           )
           expended
           one
           in
           Plays
           and
           Shows
           ,
           to
           divert
           the
           people
           from
           meeting
           to
           consult
           of
           their
           Rulers
           merit
           ,
           and
           the
           defects
           of
           Government
           :
           And
           that
           the
           Romans
           had
           not
           so
           long
           continu'd
           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
           Poesie
           ,
           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
           confess'd
           ,
           we
           shall
           as
           little
           disparage
           Religion
           ,
           by
           bringing
           in
           more
           aids
           when
           't
           is
           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
           Poesie
           ,
           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
           Poesie
           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
           usefull
           )
           they
           give
           a
           sentence
           against
           the
           Law
           of
           Nature
           :
           For
           Nature
           performs
           all
           things
           by
           correspondent
           aids
           and
           harmony
           .
           And
           't
           is
           injurious
           not
           to
           think
           Poets
           the
           most
           usefull
           Moralists
           ;
           for
           as
           Poesie
           is
           adorn'd
           and
           sublim'd
           by
           Musick
           ,
           which
           makes
           it
           more
           pleasant
           and
           acceptable
           ;
           so
           morality
           is
           sweetned
           and
           made
           more
           amiable
           by
           Poesie
           .
           And
           the
           Austerity
           of
           some
           Divines
           may
           be
           the
           cause
           why
           Religion
           hath
           not
           more
           prevail'd
           upon
           the
           manners
           of
           Men
           :
           for
           great
           Doctours
           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
           infus'd
           by
           Poets
           )
           will
           appear
           (
           notwithstanding
           the
           sad
           severity
           of
           some
           latter
           Divines
           )
           no
           unfase
           Guid
           towards
           Piety
           :
           for
           it
           is
           as
           wary
           and
           nice
           as
           Conscience
           ,
           though
           more
           chearfull
           and
           couragious
           .
           And
           however
           Honour
           be
           more
           pleasing
           to
           flesh
           and
           bloud
           ,
           because
           in
           this
           World
           it
           finds
           applause
           ;
           yet
           't
           is
           not
           so
           mercenarie
           as
           Piety
           :
           for
           Piety
           (
           being
           of
           all
           her
           expectations
           inwardly
           assur'd
           )
           expects
           a
           reward
           in
           Heaven
           ,
           to
           which
           all
           earthly
           payments
           compar'd
           ,
           are
           but
           Shaddows
           ,
           and
           Sand.
           
        
         
           And
           it
           appears
           that
           Poesie
           hath
           for
           its
           natural
           prevailings
           over
           the
           Understandings
           of
           Men
           (
           sometimes
           making
           her
           conquests
           with
           easie
           plainness
           ,
           like
           Native
           countrey
           Beauty
           )
           been
           very
           successfull
           in
           the
           most
           grave
           and
           important
           occasions
           ,
           that
           the
           necessities
           of
           States
           or
           Mankind
           have
           produc'd
           .
           For
           it
           may
           be
           said
           that
           Demosthenes
           sav'd
           the
           Athenians
           by
           the
           Fable
           or
           Parable
           of
           the
           Dogs
           and
           Wolves
           ,
           in
           answer
           to
           King
           Philip's
           Proposition
           ;
           And
           that
           
             Menenius
             Agrippa
          
           sav'd
           the
           Senate
           ,
           if
           not
           Rome
           ,
           by
           that
           of
           the
           Belly
           ,
           and
           the
           Hands
           :
           and
           that
           even
           our
           Saviour
           was
           pleas'd
           (
           as
           the
           most
           prevalent
           way
           of
           Doctrine
           )
           wholly
           to
           use
           such
           kind
           of
           Parables
           in
           his
           converting
           ,
           or
           saving
           of
           Souls
           ;
           it
           being
           written
           ,
           
             W●hout
             a
             Parable
             spake
             he
             not
             to
             them
             .
          
           And
           had
           not
           the
           learned
           Apostle
           thought
           the
           wisdom
           of
           Poets
           worthy
           his
           remembrance
           ▪
           and
           instructive
           ,
           
           not
           onely
           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
           carelesly
           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
           thankfull
           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
           imagin'd
           but
           that
           Poets
           in
           praising
           them
           ,
           praise
           wholly
           the
           Maker
           ;
           and
           so
           in
           praising
           Beauty
           :
           For
           that
           Woman
           who
           believes
           she
           is
           prais'd
           when
           her
           beauty
           is
           commended
           ,
           may
           as
           well
           suppose
           that
           Poets
           thinks
           she
           created
           her self
           :
           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
           erre
           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
           insolencies
           to
           all
           subordinate
           officers
           of
           the
           Crown
           are
           rudenesses
           to
           the
           King.
           Love
           (
           in
           the
           most
           obnoxious
           interpretation
           )
           is
           Natures
           Preparative
           to
           her
           greatest
           work
           ,
           which
           is
           the
           making
           of
           Life
           .
           And
           since
           the
           severest
           Divines
           of
           these
           latter
           times
           have
           not
           been
           asham'd
           publickly
           to
           command
           and
           define
           the
           most
           secret
           duties
           ,
           and
           entertainments
           of
           Love
           in
           the
           Married
           ;
           why
           should
           not
           
           Poets
           civily
           endeavour
           to
           make
           a
           Friendship
           between
           the
           Guests
           before
           they
           meet
           ,
           by
           teaching
           them
           to
           dignifie
           each
           other
           with
           the
           utmost
           of
           estimation
           .
           And
           Marriage
           in
           Mankind
           were
           as
           rude
           and
           unprepar'd
           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
           ,
           Poesie
           is
           the
           most
           natural
           and
           delightfull
           Interpreter
           .
        
         
           When
           neither
           Religion
           (
           which
           is
           our
           art
           towards
           God
           )
           nor
           Nature
           (
           which
           is
           Gods
           first
           Law
           to
           Man
           ,
           though
           by
           Man
           least
           study'd
           )
           nor
           when
           Reason
           (
           which
           is
           Nature
           ,
           and
           made
           art
           by
           Experience
           )
           can
           by
           the
           enemies
           of
           Poesie
           be
           sufficiently
           urg'd
           against
           it
           ,
           then
           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
           ,
           distress'd
           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
           feign'd
           Common-wealth
           he
           had
           banish'd
           all
           Poets
           .
           But
           Plato
           says
           nothing
           against
           Poets
           in
           general
           ;
           and
           in
           his
           particular
           quarrel
           (
           which
           is
           to
           Homer
           ,
           and
           Hesiod
           )
           onely
           condemns
           such
           errours
           as
           we
           mention'd
           in
           the
           beginning
           of
           this
           Preface
           ,
           when
           we
           look'd
           upon
           the
           Ancients
           .
           And
           those
           errours
           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
           Poesie
           ,
           but
           the
           Poems
           then
           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
             Common-wealth
             .
          
           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
             Common-wealth
             .
          
           But
           those
           who
           make
           use
           of
           this
           just
           indignation
           of
           Plato
           to
           the
           unjust
           scandal
           of
           P●esie
           ,
           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
           silenc'd
           his
           Master
           throughout
           the
           Schools
           of
           Europe
           )
           labours
           to
           make
           Poesie
           universally
           current
           ,
           by
           giving
           Laws
           to
           the
           Science
           :
           Nor
           will
           they
           take
           notice
           ,
           in
           what
           dignity
           it
           continu'd
           whilest
           the
           Greeks
           kept
           their
           dominion
           ,
           or
           Language
           ;
           and
           how
           much
           the
           Romans
           cherish'd
           even
           the
           publick
           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
           lawfull
           pleasures
           of
           Men
           ;
           and
           finding
           Poesie
           as
           usefull
           now
           ,
           as
           the
           Ancients
           found
           it
           towards
           perfection
           and
           happiness
           ;
           I
           will
           ,
           Sir
           ,
           (
           unless
           with
           these
           Two
           Books
           you
           return
           me
           a
           discouragement
           )
           chearfully
           proceed
           :
           and
           though
           a
           little
           time
           would
           make
           way
           for
           the
           Third
           ,
           and
           make
           it
           fit
           for
           the
           Press
           ,
           I
           am
           resolv'd
           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
           whilest
           they
           live
           ;
           though
           their
           Papers
           be
           but
           fill'd
           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
           continu'd
           ,
           I
           shall
           ,
           (
           after
           all
           〈◊〉
           busie
           vanitie
           in
           shewing
           and
           describing
           my
           new
           Building
           )
           with
           great
           quietness
           ,
           being
           almost
           as
           weary
           as
           your self
           ,
           bring
           you
           to
           the
           Back-door
           ,
           that
           you
           may
           make
           no
           review
           but
           in
           my
           absence
           ;
           and
           steal
           hastily
           from
           you
           ,
           as
           one
           who
           is
           asham'd
           of
           all
           the
           trouble
           you
           have
           receiv'd
           from
           ,
        
         
           
             (
             SIR
          
           )
           Your
           most
           humble
           ,
           and
           most
           affectionate
           Servant
           
             From
             the
             Louure
             in
             Paris
             ,
             
               January
               2.
               1650.
               
            
          
           
             WIL.
             D'AVENANT
             .
          
        
      
       
         
         
           THE
           ANSWER
           OF
           Mr.
           HOBBES
           TO
           Sr.
           WILL.
           D'AVENANT'S
           PREFACE
           before
           GONDIBERT
           .
        
         
           
             SIR
             ,
          
        
         
           IF
           to
           commend
           your
           Poem
           ,
           I
           should
           onely
           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
           dignitie
           and
           vigour
           of
           your
           expression
           ,
           you
           have
           performed
           all
           the
           parts
           of
           various
           experience
           ,
           readie
           memorie
           ,
           clear
           judgement
           ,
           swift
           and
           well
           govern'd
           fancie
           ,
           though
           it
           were
           enough
           for
           the
           truth
           ,
           it
           were
           too
           little
           for
           the
           weight
           and
           credit
           of
           my
           testimonie
           .
           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
           Poesie
           .
        
         
           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
           delightfull
           and
           measur'd
           lines
           ,
           to
           avert
           men
           from
           vice
           ,
           and
           incline
           them
           to
           virtuous
           and
           honourable
           actions
           )
           haue
           lodg'd
           themselves
           in
           the
           three
           Regions
           of
           mankind
           ,
           Court
           ,
           
           Citie
           ,
           and
           Countrey
           ,
           correspondent
           in
           some
           proportion
           ,
           to
           those
           three
           Regions
           of
           the
           World.
           For
           there
           is
           in
           Princes
           ,
           and
           men
           of
           conspicuous
           power
           (
           anciently
           call'd
           Heroes
           )
           a
           lustre
           and
           influence
           upon
           the
           rest
           of
           men
           ,
           resembling
           that
           of
           the
           Heavens
           ,
           and
           an
           insincereness
           ,
           inconstancie
           ,
           and
           troublesom
           humour
           of
           those
           that
           dwell
           in
           populous
           Cities
           ,
           like
           the
           mobilitie
           ,
           blustering
           ,
           and
           impuritie
           of
           the
           Air
           ;
           and
           a
           plainness
           ,
           and
           (
           though
           dul
           )
           yet
           a
           nutritive
           facultie
           in
           rural
           people
           ,
           that
           endures
           a
           comparison
           with
           the
           Earth
           they
           labour
           .
        
         
           From
           hence
           have
           proceeded
           three
           sorts
           of
           Poesie
           ,
           
             Heroique
             ,
             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
           Dramatique
           ,
           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
           Poesie
           .
           For
           the
           Heroique
           Poem
           Narrative
           (
           such
           as
           is
           yours
           )
           is
           call'd
           
             Epique
             Poem
          
           ;
           The
           Heroique
           Poem
           Dramatique
           ,
           is
           Tragedie
           .
           The
           Scommatique
           Narrative
           ,
           is
           Satyre
           ;
           Dramatique
           is
           Comedie
           .
           The
           Pastoral
           Narrative
           ,
           is
           called
           simply
           Pastoral
           (
           anciently
           Bucolique
           )
           the
           same
           Dramatique
           ,
           
             Pastoral
             Comedie
          
           .
           The
           Figure
           therefore
           of
           an
           Epique
           Poem
           ,
           and
           of
           a
           Tragedie
           ,
           ought
           to
           be
           the
           same
           ,
           for
           they
           differ
           no
           more
           but
           in
           that
           they
           are
           pronounced
           by
           one
           ,
           or
           many
           persons
           .
           Which
           I
           insert
           to
           iustifie
           the
           figure
           of
           yours
           ,
           consisting
           of
           five
           books
           divided
           into
           Songs
           ,
           or
           Cantoes
           ,
           as
           five
           Acts
           divided
           into
           Scenes
           has
           ever
           been
           the
           approved
           figure
           of
           a
           Tragedie
           .
        
         
           They
           that
           take
           for
           Poesie
           whatsoever
           is
           writ
           in
           Verse
           ,
           will
           think
           this
           Division
           imperfect
           ,
           and
           call
           in
           Sonets
           ,
           Epigrams
           ;
           Eclogues
           ,
           and
           the
           like
           pieces
           (
           which
           are
           but
           Essayes
           ,
           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
           Historie
           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
           Poesie
           imports
           )
           not
           found
           in
           men
           .
           They
           that
           give
           enterance
           to
           Fictions
           writ
           in
           Prose
           ,
           erre
           not
           so
           much
           ,
           but
           they
           erre
           :
           For
           Prose
           requiteth
           delightfulness
           ,
           not
           onely
           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
           publickly
           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
           majestie
           of
           that
           stile
           was
           observed
           ,
           The
           Poets
           chose
           it
           as
           best
           becoming
           their
           high
           invention
           .
           And
           for
           the
           Antiquitie
           of
           Verse
           ,
           it
           is
           greater
           than
           the
           antiquitie
           of
           Letters
           .
           For
           it
           is
           certain
           ,
           Cadmus
           was
           the
           first
           that
           (
           from
           Phoenicia
           ,
           a
           Countrey
           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
           memorie
           )
           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
           Epick
           as
           Dramatick
           (
           which
           custom
           hath
           been
           long
           time
           laid
           aside
           ,
           but
           began
           to
           be
           revived
           in
           part
           ,
           of
           late
           years
           in
           Italie
           )
           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
           onely
           to
           discompose
           the
           best
           Composers
           ,
           but
           also
           to
           disapoint
           sometimes
           the
           most
           attentive
           Reader
           ,
           and
           put
           him
           to
           hunt
           counter
           for
           the
           sense
           .
           It
           was
           therefore
           
           necessarie
           for
           Poets
           in
           those
           times
           ,
           to
           write
           in
           Verse
           .
        
         
           The
           Verse
           which
           the
           Greeks
           ,
           and
           Latines
           (
           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
           onely
           in
           the
           length
           of
           the
           line
           ,
           but
           also
           in
           the
           quantitie
           of
           the
           syllables
           .
           In
           stead
           of
           which
           we
           use
           the
           line
           of
           ten
           Syllables
           ,
           recompensing
           the
           neglect
           of
           their
           quantitie
           ,
           with
           the
           diligence
           of
           Rime
           .
           And
           this
           measure
           is
           so
           proper
           for
           an
           Heroique
           Poem
           ,
           as
           without
           some
           loss
           of
           gravitie
           and
           dignitie
           ,
           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
           glorie
           from
           a
           needless
           difficultie
           ,
           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
           chuse
           a
           needless
           and
           difficult
           correspondence
           of
           Rime
           ,
           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
           Rime
           Alternate
           .
        
         
           For
           the
           choice
           of
           your
           Subject
           ,
           you
           have
           sufficiently
           justified
           your self
           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
           adde
           to
           your
           Justification
           the
           puritie
           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
           Poesie
           .
        
         
         
           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
           Deitie
           ,
           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
           singularitie
           ,
           For
           my
           part
           ,
           I
           neither
           subscribe
           to
           their
           accusation
           ,
           nor
           yet
           condemn
           that
           Heathen
           custom
           ,
           otherwise
           than
           as
           accessarie
           to
           their
           false
           Religion
           .
           For
           their
           Poets
           were
           their
           Divines
           ;
           had
           the
           name
           of
           Prophets
           ,
           Exercised
           amongst
           the
           People
           a
           kind
           of
           spiritual
           Authoritie
           ;
           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
           hearkened
           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
           unskilfull
           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.
           Unskilfull
           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
           Controversie
           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
           Common-wealths
           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
           imagin
           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
           Bag-pipe
           .
        
         
           Time
           and
           Education
           begets
           Experience
           ;
           Experience
           begets
           Memorie
           ;
           Memorie
           begets
           Judgement
           ,
           and
           Fancie
           ;
           Judgement
           begets
           the
           Strength
           and
           Structure
           ;
           and
           Fancie
           begets
           the
           Ornaments
           of
           a
           Poem
           .
           The
           Ancients
           therefore
           fabled
           not
           absurdly
           ,
           in
           making
           Memorie
           the
           Mother
           of
           the
           Muses
           .
           For
           Memorie
           is
           the
           World
           (
           though
           not
           really
           ,
           yet
           so
           as
           in
           a
           Looking-glass
           )
           in
           which
           the
           Judgement
           ,
           the
           severer
           Sister
           busieth
           her self
           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
           Fancie
           ,
           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
           her self
           ,
           and
           all
           this
           in
           a
           point
           of
           time
           ,
           the
           voyage
           is
           not
           very
           great
           ,
           her self
           being
           all
           she
           seeks
           ;
           and
           her
           wonderfull
           celeritie
           ,
           consisteth
           not
           so
           much
           in
           motion
           ,
           as
           in
           copious
           Imagerie
           discreetly
           ordered
           ,
           and
           perfectly
           registered
           in
           the
           Memorie
           ;
           which
           most
           men
           under
           the
           name
           of
           Philosophie
           have
           a
           glimpss
           of
           ,
           and
           is
           pretended
           to
           by
           many
           that
           grosly
           mistaking
           her
           ,
           embrace
           contention
           in
           her
           place
           .
           But
           so
           far
           forth
           as
           the
           Fancie
           of
           man
           ,
           has
           traced
           the
           ways
           of
           true
           Philosophie
           ,
           so
           far
           it
           hath
           produced
           very
           marvellous
           effects
           to
           the
           benefit
           of
           mankind
           .
           All
           that
           is
           beautifull
           or
           defensible
           in
           building
           ,
           or
           marvellous
           in
           Engines
           and
           Instruments
           of
           motion
           ;
           whatsoever
           commoditie
           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
           Civilitie
           of
           Europe
           ,
           from
           the
           Barbaritie
           of
           the
           American
           
           savages
           ,
           is
           the
           workmanship
           of
           Fancy
           ,
           but
           guided
           by
           the
           Precepts
           of
           true
           Philosophie
           .
           But
           where
           these
           precepts
           fail
           ,
           as
           they
           have
           hitherto
           failed
           in
           the
           doctrine
           of
           moral
           Virtue
           ,
           there
           the
           Architect
           (
           Fancy
           )
           must
           take
           the
           Philosophers
           part
           upon
           her self
           .
           He
           therefore
           that
           undertakes
           an
           Heroick
           Poem
           (
           which
           is
           to
           exhibit
           a
           venerable
           and
           amiable
           Image
           of
           Heroick
           virtue
           )
           must
           not
           onely
           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
           Theater
           .
           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
           mans
           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
           setled
           Valour
           ,
           clean
           Honour
           ,
           calm
           Counsel
           ,
           learned
           Diversion
           ,
           and
           pure
           Love
           ▪
           save
           onely
           a
           torrent
           or
           two
           of
           Ambition
           ,
           which
           (
           though
           a
           fault
           )
           has
           somewhat
           Heroick
           in
           it
           ,
           and
           therefore
           must
           have
           place
           in
           an
           Heroick
           Poem
           .
           To
           shew
           the
           Reader
           in
           what
           place
           he
           shall
           find
           every
           excellent
           picture
           
           of
           Virtue
           you
           have
           drawn
           ,
           is
           too
           long
           .
           And
           to
           shew
           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
           it self
           ,
           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
           onely
           to
           exceed
           the
           work
           ,
           but
           also
           the
           possibility
           of
           Nature
           :
           they
           would
           have
           impenetrable
           Armours
           ,
           Inchanted
           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
           onely
           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
           Poesie
           .
           Such
           in
           Virgil
           are
           the
           Funeral
           games
           of
           Anchises
           ,
           The
           duel
           of
           Aeneas
           and
           
             Turnus
             ,
             &c.
          
           and
           such
           in
           yours
           are
           
             The
             Hunting
             ,
             The
             Battel
             ,
             The
             Citie
             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
           beautifull
           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
           )
           shews
           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
           delightfull
           appetite
           of
           knowledge
           .
        
         
           There
           be
           so
           many
           words
           in
           use
           at
           this
           day
           in
           the
           English
           Tongue
           ,
           that
           ,
           though
           of
           magnifick
           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
           't
           is
           exprest
           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
           adde
           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
           onely
           to
           the
           Reader
           ,
           but
           also
           (
           after
           a
           little
           time
           )
           to
           the
           Writer
           himself
           dark
           and
           troublesom
           .
        
         
           To
           the
           property
           of
           Expression
           I
           referre
           ,
           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
           Heroick
           Poem
           ,
           the
           most
           remarkable
           are
           those
           that
           shew
           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
           inhumane
           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
           Centaurs
           .
           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
           Comedie
           and
           Satyre
           .
           Great
           persons
           that
           have
           their
           minds
           employed
           on
           great
           designs
           ,
           have
           not
           
           leasure
           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
           Inferiour
           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
           mens
           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
           defac'd
           by
           time
           ,
           or
           sullied
           with
           vulgar
           or
           long
           use
           .
           For
           the
           phrases
           of
           Poesie
           ,
           as
           the
           airs
           of
           musick
           with
           often
           hearing
           become
           insipide
           ,
           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
           fetcht
           (
           but
           withal
           apt
           ,
           instructive
           and
           comly
           )
           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
           bloud
           ,
           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
           ,
           whilest
           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
           dissent
           onely
           from
           something
           in
           your
           Preface
           ,
           sounding
           to
           the
           prejudice
           of
           Age.
           'T
           is
           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
           onely
           of
           the
           weakness
           of
           body
           ,
           was
           wrested
           to
           the
           weakness
           of
           mind
           ,
           by
           froward
           children
           ,
           weary
           of
           the
           controulment
           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
           onely
           for
           their
           ease
           ,
           and
           sensual
           delight
           ,
           are
           children
           still
           ,
           at
           what
           years
           soever
           ;
           as
           they
           that
           coming
           into
           a
           populous
           Citie
           ,
           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
           mans
           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.
             HOBS
             .
          
        
      
       
         
         
           TO
           S
           r
           WILL.
           D'AVENANT
           ,
           Upon
           his
           two
           first
           Books
           of
           GONDIBERT
           ,
           
             Finish'd
             before
             his
             Voyage
             to
          
           AMERICA
           .
        
         
           
             THus
             the
             wise
             Nightingale
             that
             leaves
             her
             home
             ,
          
           
             Her
             native
             Wood
             ,
             when
             Storms
             and
             Winter
             come
             ,
          
           
             Pursuing
             constantly
             the
             chearfull
             Spring
          
           
             To
             forreign
             Groves
             does
             her
             old
             Musick
             bring
             :
          
        
         
           
             The
             drooping
             Hebrews
             banish'd
             Harps
             unstrung
          
           
             At
             Babylon
             ,
             upon
             the
             Willows
             hung
             ;
          
           
             Yours
             sounds
             aloud
             ,
             and
             tells
             us
             you
             excell
          
           
             No
             less
             in
             Courage
             ,
             than
             in
             Singing
             well
             ;
          
           
             Whilst
             unconcern'd
             you
             let
             your
             Countrey
             know
             ,
          
           
             They
             have
             impov'rished
             themselves
             ,
             not
             you
             ;
          
           
             Who
             with
             the
             Muses
             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
             Pitie's
             Glass
             ,
          
           
             See
             Nero
             milder
             than
             Augustus
             was
             .
          
           
             Hereafter
             such
             in
             thy
             behalf
             shall
             be
          
           
             Th'indulgent
             censure
             of
             Posteritie
             .
          
           
             To
             banish
             those
             who
             with
             such
             art
             can
             sing
             ,
          
           
             Is
             a
             rude
             crime
             which
             its
             own
             Curse
             does
             bring
             :
          
           
             Ages
             to
             come
             shall
             ne'r
             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
             stampt
             Coyn
             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
             theam
             ,
             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
             out-shin'd
          
           
             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
             Beautie
             wears
             the
             Sovereign
             Crown
             ;
          
           
             Such
             as
             of
             flesh
             compos'd
             ,
             by
             flesh
             and
             bloud
          
           
             (
             Though
             not
             resisted
             )
             may
             be
             understood
             .
          
        
         
           
             ED.
             WALLER
             .
          
        
      
       
         
         
           TO
           Sr
           WIL.
           D'AVENANT
           ,
           
             Upon
             his
             two
             first
             Books
             of
          
           GONDIBERT
           ,
           
             Finish'd
             before
             his
             Voyage
             to
          
           AMERICA
           .
        
         
           
             ME
             thinks
             Heroick
             Poesie
             till
             now
             ,
          
           
             Like
             some
             fantastick
             Fairy-land
             did
             show
             ;
          
           
             Gods
             ,
             Devils
             ,
             Nymphs
             ,
             Witches
             ,
             and
             Giants
             race
             ,
          
           
             And
             all
             but
             Man
             ,
             in
             Mans
             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
             Soyl
             did
             chiefly
             want
             .
          
           
             But
             even
             thy
             Mortals
             do
             their
             Gods
             excell
             ,
          
           
             Taught
             by
             thy
             Muse
             to
             Fight
             and
             Love
             so
             well
             .
          
        
         
           
             By
             fatal
             hands
             whilest
             present
             Empires
             fall
             ,
          
           
             Thine
             from
             the
             grave
             past
             Monarchies
             recal
             .
          
           
             So
             much
             more
             thanks
             from
             humane
             kind
             does
             merit
          
           
             The
             Poets
             fury
             ,
             than
             the
             Zelots
             Spirit
             .
          
           
             And
             from
             the
             grave
             thou
             mak'st
             this
             Empire
             rise
             ,
          
           
             Not
             like
             some
             dreadfull
             Ghost
             t'
             affright
             our
             Eyes
             ,
          
           
             But
             with
             more
             beauty
             and
             triumphant
             state
             ,
          
           
             Than
             when
             it
             crown'd
             at
             proud
             Verona
             sate
             .
          
           
             So
             will
             our
             God
             re-build
             Mans
             perish'd
             frame
             ,
          
           
             And
             raise
             him
             up
             much
             better
             ,
             yet
             the
             same
             :
          
           
           
             So
             God-like
             P●e●s
             do
             past
             things
             rehearse
             ,
          
           
             Not
             change
             ,
             but
             heighten
             Nature
             with
             their
             Verse
             .
          
        
         
           
             With
             shame
             me
             thinks
             great
             Italie
             must
             see
          
           
             Her
             Conqu'rors
             call'd
             to
             life
             again
             by
             thee
             ;
          
           
             Call'd
             by
             such
             powerfull
             Arts
             ,
             that
             ancient
             Rome
          
           
             May
             blush
             ●o
             less
             to
             see
             her
             Wit
             orecome
             .
          
           
             Some
             men
             their
             Fancies
             like
             their
             Faiths
             derive
             ;
          
           
             And
             count
             all
             ill
             but
             that
             which
             Rome
             does
             give
             ;
          
           
             The
             marks
             of
             Old
             and
             Catholick
             would
             find
             ;
          
           
             To
             the
             same
             Chair
             would
             Truth
             and
             Fiction
             bind
             .
          
           
             Thou
             in
             these
             beaten
             paths
             disdain'st
             to
             tread
             ,
          
           
             And
             scorn'st
             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
             Fancie
             ,
             like
             a
             Flame
             ,
             her
             way
             does
             make
             ,
          
           
             And
             leaves
             bright
             tracks
             for
             following
             Pens
             to
             take
             .
          
           
             Sure
             't
             was
             this
             noble
             boldness
             of
             the
             Muse
          
           
             Did
             thy
             desire
             ,
             to
             seek
             new
             Worlds
             ,
             infuse
             ;
          
           
             And
             ne'r
             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
                 compar'd
                 to
                 GONDIBERT
                 ,
              
               
                 And
                 justly
                 each
                 distinguish'd
                 by
                 desert
                 :
              
               
                 Whose
                 Armies
                 are
                 in
                 Fame's
                 fair
                 Field
                 drawn
                 forth
                 ,
              
               
                 To
                 shew
                 by
                 discipline
                 their
                 Leaders
                 worth
                 .
              
            
          
           
             
               1.
               
            
             
               OF
               all
               the
               Lombards
               ,
               by
               their
               Trophies
               known
               ,
            
             
               Who
               sought
               Fame
               soon
               ,
               and
               had
               her
               favour
               long
               ,
            
             
               King
               Aribert
               best
               seem'd
               to
               fill
               the
               Throne
               ;
            
             
               And
               bred
               most
               bus'ness
               for
               Heroick
               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
               Nations
               Peace
               or
               War
               renew
               .
            
          
           
             
               3.
               
            
             
               War
               was
               his
               studi'd
               Art
               ;
               War
               ,
               which
               the
               bad
            
             
               Condemn
               ,
               because
               even
               then
               it
               does
               them
               aw
            
             
               When
               with
               their
               number
               lin'd
               ,
               and
               purple
               clad
               ,
            
             
               And
               to
               the
               good
               more
               needfull
               is
               than
               Law.
               
            
          
           
             
             
               4.
               
            
             
               To
               conquer
               Tumult
               ,
               Nature's
               suddain
               force
               ,
            
             
               War
               ,
               Arts
               delib'rate
               strength
               ,
               was
               first
               devis'd
               ;
            
             
               Cruel
               to
               those
               whose
               rage
               has
               no
               remorse
               ,
            
             
               Lest
               civil
               pow'r
               should
               be
               by
               Throngs
               surpris'd
               .
            
          
           
             
               5.
               
            
             
               The
               feeble
               Law
               rescues
               but
               doubtfully
            
             
               From
               the
               Oppressours
               single
               Arm
               our
               right
               ;
            
             
               Till
               to
               its
               pow'r
               the
               wise
               wars
               help
               apply
               ;
            
             
               Which
               soberly
               does
               Mans
               loose
               rage
               unite
               .
            
          
           
             
               6.
               
            
             
               Yet
               since
               on
               all
               War
               never
               needfull
               was
               ,
            
             
               Wise
               Aribert
               did
               keep
               the
               People
               sure
            
             
               By
               Laws
               from
               lesser
               dangers
               ;
               for
               the
               Laws
            
             
               Them
               from
               themselves
               ,
               and
               not
               from
               pow'r
               secure
               .
            
          
           
             
               7.
               
            
             
               Else
               Conquerours
               ,
               by
               making
               Laws
               ,
               orecome
            
             
               Their
               own
               gain'd
               pow'r
               ,
               and
               leave
               mens
               furie
               free
               ;
            
             
               Who
               growing
               deaf
               to
               pow'r
               ,
               the
               Laws
               grow
               dumb
               ;
            
             
               Since
               none
               can
               plead
               where
               all
               may
               Judges
               be
               .
            
          
           
             
               8.
               
            
             
               Prais'd
               was
               this
               King
               for
               war
               ,
               the
               Laws
               broad
               shield
               ;
            
             
               And
               for
               acknowledg'd
               Laws
               ,
               the
               art
               of
               Peace
               ;
            
             
               Happy
               in
               all
               which
               Heav'n
               to
               Kings
               does
               yield
               ,
            
             
               But
               a
               successour
               when
               his
               cares
               shall
               cease
               .
            
          
           
             
               9.
               
            
             
               For
               no
               Male
               Pledge
               ,
               to
               give
               a
               lustie
               name
               ,
            
             
               Sprung
               from
               his
               bed
               ,
               yet
               Heav'n
               to
               him
               allow'd
            
             
               One
               of
               the
               gentler
               sex
               ,
               whose
               Storie
               Fame
            
             
               Has
               made
               my
               Song
               ,
               to
               make
               the
               Lombards
               proud
               .
            
          
           
             
               10.
               
            
             
               Recorded
               Rhodalind
               !
               whose
               high
               renown
            
             
               Who
               miss
               in
               Books
               ,
               not
               luckily
               have
               read
               ;
            
             
               Or
               vex'd
               by
               living
               beauties
               of
               their
               own
            
             
               Have
               shunn'd
               the
               wise
               Records
               of
               Lovers
               dead
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               11.
               
            
             
               Her
               Fathers
               prosp'rous
               Palace
               was
               the
               Sphear
            
             
               Where
               she
               to
               all
               with
               Heav'nly
               order
               mov'd
               ;
            
             
               Made
               rigid
               virtue
               so
               benign
               appear
               ,
            
             
               That
               't
               was
               without
               Religion's
               help
               belov'd
               .
            
          
           
             
               12.
               
            
             
               Her
               looks
               like
               Empire
               shew'd
               ,
               great
               above
               pride
               ;
            
             
               Since
               pride
               ill
               counterfeits
               excessive
               height
               ;
            
             
               But
               Nature
               publish'd
               what
               she
               fain
               would
               hide
               ;
            
             
               Who
               for
               her
               deeds
               ,
               not
               beautie
               ,
               lov'd
               the
               light
               .
            
          
           
             
               13.
               
            
             
               To
               make
               her
               lowly
               minds
               appearance
               less
               ,
            
             
               She
               us'd
               some
               outward
               greatness
               for
               disguise
               ;
            
             
               Esteem'd
               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
               stormie
               season
               froward
               grown
               ;
            
             
               Whom
               so
               her
               springs
               fresh
               presence
               did
               asswage
               ,
            
             
               That
               he
               her
               sweetness
               tasted
               as
               his
               own
               .
            
          
           
             
               15.
               
            
             
               The
               pow'r
               that
               with
               his
               stooping
               age
               declin'd
               ,
            
             
               In
               her
               transplanted
               ,
               by
               remove
               increas'd
               ;
            
             
               Which
               doubly
               back
               in
               homage
               she
               resign'd
               ;
            
             
               Till
               pow'rs
               decay
               ,
               the
               Thrones
               worst
               sickness
               ,
               ceas'd
               .
            
          
           
             
               16.
               
            
             
               Oppressours
               big
               with
               pride
               ,
               when
               she
               appear'd
            
             
               Blush'd
               ,
               and
               believ'd
               their
               greatness
               counterfeit
               ;
            
             
               The
               lowly
               thought
               they
               them
               in
               vain
               had
               fear'd
               ;
            
             
               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
               ;
            
             
               Seem'd
               careless
               outward
               when
               imploy'd
               within
               ;
            
             
               Her
               speech
               ,
               like
               lovers
               watch'd
               ,
               was
               kind
               and
               low
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               18.
               
            
             
               She
               shew'd
               that
               her
               soft
               sex
               contains
               strong
               minds
               ,
            
             
               Such
               as
               evap'rates
               through
               the
               courser
               Male
               ,
            
             
               As
               through
               course
               stone
               Elixar
               passage
               finds
               ,
            
             
               Which
               scarce
               through
               finer
               Christal
               can
               exhale
               .
            
          
           
             
               19.
               
            
             
               Her
               beautie
               (
               not
               her
               own
               but
               Natures
               pride
               )
            
             
               Should
               I
               describe
               ;
               from
               every
               Lovers
               eye
            
             
               All
               Beauties
               this
               original
               must
               hide
               ,
            
             
               Or
               like
               scorn'd
               Copies
               be
               themselves
               laid
               by
               ;
            
          
           
             
               20.
               
            
             
               Be
               by
               their
               Poets
               Shunn'd
               ,
               whom
               beautie
               feeds
               ,
            
             
               Who
               beautie
               like
               hyr'd
               witnesses
               protect
               ,
            
             
               Officiously
               averring
               more
               than
               needs
               ,
            
             
               And
               make
               us
               so
               the
               needfull
               truth
               suspect
               .
            
          
           
             
               21.
               
            
             
               And
               since
               fond
               Lovers
               (
               who
               disciples
               be
            
             
               To
               Poets
               )
               think
               in
               their
               own
               loves
               they
               find
            
             
               More
               beautie
               than
               yet
               Time
               did
               ever
               see
               ,
            
             
               Time's
               Curtain
               I
               will
               draw
               ore
               Rhodalind
               ;
            
          
           
             
               22.
               
            
             
               Lest
               shewing
               her
               ,
               each
               see
               how
               much
               he
               errs
               ,
            
             
               Doubt
               since
               their
               own
               have
               less
               ,
               that
               they
               have
               none
               ;
            
             
               Believe
               their
               Poets
               perjur'd
               Flatterers
               ,
            
             
               And
               then
               all
               Modern
               Maids
               would
               be
               undone
               .
            
          
           
             
               23.
               
            
             
               In
               pitie
               thus
               ,
               her
               beauty
               's
               just
               renown
            
             
               I
               wave
               for
               publick
               Peace
               ,
               and
               will
               declare
            
             
               To
               whom
               the
               King
               design'd
               her
               with
               his
               Crown
               ;
            
             
               Which
               is
               his
               last
               and
               most
               unquiet
               care
               .
            
          
           
             
               24.
               
            
             
               If
               in
               alliance
               he
               does
               greatness
               prise
               ,
            
             
               His
               Mind
               grown
               wearie
               ,
               need
               not
               travel
               far
               ;
            
             
               If
               greatness
               he
               compos'd
               of
               Victories
               ,
            
             
               He
               has
               at
               home
               many
               that
               Victors
               are
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               25.
               
            
             
               Many
               whom
               blest
               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
               toyls
               )
               their
               own
               .
            
          
           
             
               26.
               
            
             
               And
               of
               those
               Victors
               Two
               are
               chiefly
               fam'd
               ,
            
             
               To
               whom
               the
               rest
               their
               proudest
               hopes
               resign
               ;
            
             
               Though
               young
               ,
               were
               in
               there
               Fathers
               battels
               nam'd
               ,
            
             
               And
               both
               are
               of
               the
               Lombards
               Royal
               Line
               .
            
          
           
             
               27.
               
            
             
               Oswald
               the
               great
               ,
               and
               greater
               Gondibert
               !
            
             
               Both
               from
               successfull
               conqu'ring
               Fathers
               sprung
               ▪
            
             
               Whom
               both
               examples
               made
               of
               War's
               high
               art
               ,
            
             
               And
               far
               out-wrought
               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
               mightie
               mysteries
               of
               Courts
               ,
            
             
               In
               peacefull
               Cities
               ,
               and
               in
               fighting
               Fields
               .
            
          
           
             
               29.
               
            
             
               In
               Court
               Prince
               Oswald
               costly
               was
               and
               gay
               ,
            
             
               Finer
               than
               near
               vain
               Kings
               their
               Fav'rites
               are
               ;
            
             
               Out-shin'd
               bright
               Fav'rites
               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
               tow'rds
               himself
               could
               others
               practise
               fear
               .
            
          
           
             
               31.
               
            
             
               The
               Prince
               ,
               could
               Porpoise-like
               in
               Tempests
               play
               ,
            
             
               And
               in
               Court-storms
               on
               ship-wrack'd
               Greatness
               seed
               ;
            
             
               Not
               frighted
               with
               their
               fate
               when
               cast
               away
               ,
            
             
               But
               to
               their
               glorious
               hazzards
               durst
               succeed
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               32.
               
            
             
               The
               Duke
               would
               lasting
               calms
               to
               Courts
               assure
               ,
            
             
               As
               pleasant
               Gardens
               we
               defend
               from
               winds
               ;
            
             
               For
               he
               who
               bus'ness
               would
               from
               Storms
               procure
               ,
            
             
               Soon
               his
               affairs
               above
               his
               mannage
               finds
               .
            
          
           
             
               33.
               
            
             
               Oswald
               in
               Throngs
               the
               abject
               People
               sought
            
             
               With
               humble
               looks
               ;
               who
               still
               too
               late
               will
               know
            
             
               They
               are
               Ambitious
               Quarrie
               ,
               and
               soon
               caught
            
             
               When
               the
               aspiring
               Eagle
               stoops
               so
               low
               .
            
          
           
             
               34.
               
            
             
               The
               Duke
               did
               these
               by
               stedie
               Virtue
               gain
               ;
            
             
               Which
               they
               in
               action
               more
               than
               precept
               tast
               ;
            
             
               Deeds
               shew
               the
               Good
               ,
               and
               those
               who
               goodness
               feign
            
             
               By
               such
               even
               through
               their
               vizards
               are
               out-fac't
               .
            
          
           
             
               35.
               
            
             
               Oswald
               in
               war
               was
               worthily
               renown'd
               ;
            
             
               Though
               gay
               in
               Courts
               ,
               coursly
               in
               Camps
               could
               live
               ;
            
             
               Judg'd
               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
               lov'd
               ;
            
             
               Which
               does
               in
               war
               the
               name
               of
               Virtue
               own
               ;
            
             
               But
               quits
               that
               name
               when
               from
               the
               war
               remov'd
               ,
            
             
               As
               Rivers
               theirs
               when
               from
               their
               Channels
               gon
               .
            
          
           
             
               37.
               
            
             
               The
               Duke
               (
               as
               restless
               as
               his
               fame
               in
               war
               )
            
             
               With
               martial
               toil
               could
               Oswald
               wearie
               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
               Battel
               lost
               he
               could
               restore
               ,
            
             
               And
               after
               force
               the
               Victors
               to
               their
               Fate
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               39.
               
            
             
               In
               Camps
               now
               chiefly
               liv'd
               ,
               where
               he
               did
               aim
            
             
               At
               graver
               glory
               than
               Ambition
               breeds
               ;
            
             
               Designs
               that
               yet
               this
               story
               must
               not
               name
               ,
            
             
               Which
               with
               our
               Lombard
               Authours
               pace
               proceeds
               .
            
          
           
             
               40.
               
            
             
               The
               King
               adopts
               this
               Duke
               in
               secret
               thought
            
             
               To
               wed
               the
               Nations
               wealth
               ,
               his
               onely
               child
               ,
            
             
               Whom
               Oswald
               as
               reward
               of
               merit
               sought
               ,
            
             
               With
               Hope
               ,
               Ambition's
               common
               bait
               ,
               beguild
               .
            
          
           
             
               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
               discern'd
               not
               that
               the
               King
               design'd
            
             
               To
               chuse
               him
               Heir
               of
               all
               his
               victories
               ;
            
             
               Nor
               guess'd
               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
            
             
               Deny'd
               her
               Eyes
               the
               knowledge
               of
               her
               glass
               ;
            
             
               Who
               blushing
               thought
               Nature
               her self
               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
               carry'd
               ,
               but
               no
               more
               in
               view
            
             
               Than
               vital
               heat
               which
               kept
               his
               heart
               still
               warm
               ;
            
             
               This
               Maids
               in
               Oswald
               ,
               as
               love's
               Beacon
               knew
               ;
            
             
               The
               publick
               flame
               to
               bid
               them
               flie
               from
               harm
               .
            
          
           
             
               47.
               
            
             
               Yet
               since
               this
               Duke
               could
               love
               ,
               we
               may
               admire
            
             
               Why
               love
               ne'r
               rais'd
               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
               dispence
               .
            
          
           
             
               49.
               
            
             
               But
               Oswald
               never
               knew
               love's
               ancient
               Laws
               ,
            
             
               The
               aw
               that
               Beauty
               does
               in
               lovers
               breed
               ,
            
             
               Those
               short-breath'd
               fears
               and
               paleness
               it
               does
               cause
            
             
               When
               in
               a
               doubtfull
               Brow
               their
               doom
               they
               read
               .
            
          
           
             
               50.
               
            
             
               Not
               Rhodalind
               (
               whom
               then
               all
               Men
               as
               one
            
             
               Did
               celebrate
               ,
               as
               with
               confed'rate
               Eyes
               )
            
             
               Could
               he
               affect
               but
               shining
               in
               her
               Throne
               ;
            
             
               Blindly
               a
               Throne
               did
               more
               than
               beauty
               prise
               .
            
          
           
             
               51.
               
            
             
               He
               by
               his
               Sister
               did
               his
               hopes
               prefer
               ;
            
             
               A
               beauteous
               pleader
               who
               victorious
               was
            
             
               O're
               Rhodalind
               ,
               and
               could
               subdue
               her
               Ear
            
             
               In
               all
               requests
               but
               this
               unpleasant
               cause
               .
            
          
           
             
               52.
               
            
             
               Gartha
               ,
               whose
               bolder
               beauty
               was
               in
               strength
            
             
               And
               fulness
               plac'd
               ,
               but
               such
               as
               all
               must
               like
               ;
            
             
               Her
               spreading
               stature
               talness
               was
               ,
               no●
               length
               ,
            
             
               And
               whilst
               sharp
               beauties
               pierce
               ,
               hers
               seem'd
               to
               strike
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               53.
               
            
             
               Such
               goodly
               presence
               ancient
               Poets
               grace
               ,
            
             
               Whose
               songs
               the
               worlds
               first
               manliness
               ▪
               declare
               ;
            
             
               To
               Princes
               Beds
               teach
               carefulness
               of
               Bace
               ;
            
             
               Which
               now
               store
               Courts
               ,
               that
               us'd
               to
               store
               the
               war.
               
            
          
           
             
               54.
               
            
             
               Such
               was
               the
               palace
               of
               her
               Mind
               ,
               a
               Prince
            
             
               Who
               proudly
               there
               ,
               and
               still
               unquier
               lives
               ;
            
             
               And
               sleep
               (
               domestick
               ev'ry
               where
               )
               from
               thence
               ,
            
             
               To
               make
               Ambition
               room
               ,
               unwisely
               drives
               .
            
          
           
             
               55.
               
            
             
               Of
               manly
               force
               was
               this
               her
               watchfull
               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
               urg'd
               to
               war
               to
               load
               their
               slaves
               with
               spoyls
               ;
            
             
               So
               Oswald
               was
               push'd
               up
               Ambition's
               hill
               ,
            
             
               And
               so
               some
               urg'd
               the
               Duke
               to
               martial
               toyls
               .
            
          
           
             
               57.
               
            
             
               And
               these
               who
               for
               their
               own
               great
               cause
               so
               high
            
             
               Would
               lift
               their
               Lords
               Two
               prosp'rous
               Armies
               ,
               are
            
             
               Return'd
               from
               far
               to
               fruitfull
               Lombardy
               ,
            
             
               And
               paid
               with
               rest
               ,
               the
               best
               reward
               of
               War.
               
            
          
           
             
               58.
               
            
             
               The
               old
               near
               Brescia
               lay
               ,
               scarce
               warm'd
               with
               Tents
               ;
            
             
               For
               though
               from
               danger
               safe
               ,
               yet
               Armies
               then
            
             
               Their
               posture
               kept
               'gainst
               warring
               Elements
               ,
            
             
               And
               hardness
               learn'd
               against
               more
               warring
               Men.
               
            
          
           
             
               59.
               
            
             
               Near
               Bergamo
               encamp'd
               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
               Fathers
               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
               fetch'd
               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.
               
            
             
               Temp'rate
               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
               wak'd
               with
               sudden
               Winds
               .
            
          
           
             
               64.
               
            
             
               Speechless
               in
               diligence
               ,
               as
               if
               they
               were
            
             
               Nightly
               to
               close
               surprize
               and
               Ambush
               bred
               ;
            
             
               Their
               wounds
               yet
               smarting
               mercifull
               they
               are
               ,
            
             
               And
               soon
               from
               victory
               to
               pitie
               led
               .
            
          
           
             
               65.
               
            
             
               When
               a
               great
               Captive
               they
               in
               fight
               had
               ta'ne
               ,
            
             
               (
               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
               vayl'd
               their
               Ensigns
               as
               it
               by
               did
               move
               ,
            
             
               Whilst
               inward
               (
               as
               from
               Native
               Conscience
               )
               all
            
             
               Worship'd
               the
               Poets
               Darling
               Godhead
               ,
               Love
               ,
            
             
               Which
               grave
               Philosophers
               did
               Nature
               call
               .
            
          
           
             
               69.
               
            
             
               Nor
               there
               could
               Maids
               of
               Captive
               Syres
               despair
               ,
            
             
               But
               made
               all
               Captives
               by
               their
               beauty
               free
               ;
            
             
               Beauty
               and
               Valour
               native
               Jewels
               are
               ,
            
             
               And
               as
               each
               others
               onely
               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
               rev'rend
               Army
               was
               for
               age
               renown'd
               ;
            
             
               Which
               long
               through
               frequent
               dangers
               follow'd
               Time
               ;
            
             
               Their
               many
               Trophies
               gain'd
               with
               many
               a
               wound
               ,
            
             
               And
               Fames
               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
               onely
               then
               (
               couldst
               thou
               both
               Camps
               discern
               )
            
             
               That
               these
               would
               seem
               grave
               Authours
               of
               the
               war
               ,
            
             
               Met
               civily
               to
               teach
               who
               e're
               will
               learn
               ,
            
             
               And
               those
               their
               young
               and
               civil
               Students
               are
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               74.
               
            
             
               But
               painful
               virtue
               of
               the
               war
               ne'r
               pays
            
             
               Itself
               with
               consciousness
               of
               being
               good
               ,
            
             
               Though
               Cloyster-virtue
               may
               believe
               even
               praise
            
             
               A
               sallary
               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
               pow'r
               excell
               .
            
          
           
             
               76.
               
            
             
               And
               Oswald's
               Faction
               urg'd
               him
               to
               aspire
            
             
               That
               by
               his
               height
               they
               higher
               might
               ascend
               ;
            
             
               The
               Dukes
               to
               glorious
               Thrones
               access
               desire
               ,
            
             
               But
               at
               more
               awfull
               distance
               did
               attend
               .
            
          
           
             
               77.
               
            
             
               The
               royal
               Rhodalind
               is
               now
               the
               Prize
            
             
               By
               which
               these
               Camps
               would
               make
               their
               merit
               known
               ;
            
             
               And
               think
               their
               Gen'rals
               but
               their
               Deputies
            
             
               Who
               must
               for
               them
               by
               Proxy
               wed
               the
               Crown
               .
            
          
           
             
               78.
               
            
             
               From
               forreign
               Fields
               (
               with
               toyling
               conquest
               tyr'd
               ,
            
             
               And
               groaning
               under
               spoyls
               )
               came
               home
               to
               rest
               ;
            
             
               But
               now
               they
               are
               with
               emulation
               fir'd
               ,
            
             
               And
               for
               that
               pow'r
               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
                 LOMBARDS
                 glory
                 ,
                 and
                 the
                 VANDALES
                 Fate
                 ,
              
               
                 The
                 Hunters
                 prais'd
                 ;
                 how
                 true
                 to
                 love
                 they
                 are
                 ,
              
               
                 How
                 calm
                 in
                 Peace
                 ,
                 and
                 Tempest-like
                 in
                 war.
              
               
                 The
                 Stag
                 is
                 by
                 the
                 num'rous
                 Chace
                 subdu'd
                 ,
              
               
                 And
                 strait
                 his
                 Hunters
                 are
                 as
                 hard
                 pursu'd
                 .
              
            
          
           
             
               1.
               
            
             
               SMALL
               are
               the
               seeds
               Fate
               does
               unheeded
               sow
            
             
               Of
               slight
               beginnings
               to
               important
               ends
               ;
            
             
               Whilst
               wonder
               (
               which
               does
               best
               our
               rev'rence
               show
            
             
               To
               Heav'n
               )
               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
               drain'd
               thine
               eyes
               .
            
          
           
             
               3.
               
            
             
               In
               a
               fair
               Forrest
               near
               Verona's
               Plain
               ,
            
             
               Fresh
               as
               if
               Natures
               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
               enlarg'd
               by
               their
               resort
            
             
               Who
               much
               his
               Grandsire
               lov'd
               ,
               and
               hither
               came
            
             
               To
               celebrate
               this
               Day
               with
               annual
               sport
               ,
            
             
               On
               which
               by
               battel
               here
               he
               earn'd
               his
               Fame
               .
            
          
           
             
               5.
               
            
             
               And
               many
               of
               these
               noble
               Hunters
               bore
            
             
               Command
               amongst
               the
               Youth
               at
               Bergamo
               ;
            
             
               Whose
               Fathers
               gather'd
               here
               the
               wreath
               they
               wore
               ,
            
             
               When
               in
               this
               Forrest
               they
               interr'd
               the
               Foe
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               6.
               
            
             
               Count
               Hurgonil
               ,
               a
               Youth
               of
               high
               descent
               ,
            
             
               Was
               listed
               here
               ,
               and
               in
               the
               Story
               great
               ;
            
             
               He
               follow'd
               Honour
               when
               tow'rd's
               Death
               it
               went
               ;
            
             
               Fierce
               in
               a
               charge
               but
               temp'rate
               in
               retreat
               .
            
          
           
             
               7.
               
            
             
               His
               wondrous
               beauty
               which
               the
               world
               approv'd
            
             
               He
               blushing
               hid
               ,
               and
               now
               no
               more
               would
               own
            
             
               (
               Since
               he
               the
               Dukes
               unequal'd
               Sister
               lov'd
               )
            
             
               Than
               an
               old
               wreath
               when
               newly
               overthrown
               .
            
          
           
             
               8.
               
            
             
               And
               she
               ,
               Orna
               the
               shy
               !
               Did
               seem
               in
               life
            
             
               So
               bashfull
               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
               publick
               voice
               was
               Arnold
               here
               ;
            
             
               He
               that
               on
               Tuscan
               Tombs
               his
               Trophies
               rais'd
               ;
            
             
               And
               now
               loves
               pow'r
               so
               willingly
               did
               bear
               ,
            
             
               That
               even
               his
               arbitrary
               reign
               he
               prais'd
               .
            
          
           
             
               10.
               
            
             
               Laura
               ,
               the
               Duke
               's
               fair
               Niece
               inthrall'd
               his
               heart
               ;
            
             
               Who
               was
               in
               Court
               the
               publick
               morning
               Glass
            
             
               Where
               those
               who
               would
               reduce
               Nature
               to
               art
               ,
            
             
               Practis'd
               by
               dress
               the
               conquests
               of
               the
               Face
               .
            
          
           
             
               11.
               
            
             
               And
               here
               was
               Hugo
               whom
               Duke
               Gondibert
            
             
               For
               stout
               and
               stedfast
               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
               pin'd
               ;
            
             
               Soft
               as
               the
               murmures
               of
               a
               weeping
               spring
               ;
            
             
               Which
               ruthless
               she
               did
               as
               those
               murmures
               mind
               :
            
             
               So
               ere
               their
               death
               sick
               Swans
               unheeded
               sing
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               13.
               
            
             
               Yet
               whilst
               she
               Arnold
               favour'd
               ,
               he
               so
               griev'd
            
             
               As
               loyal
               Subjects
               quietly
               bemoan
            
             
               Their
               Yoke
               ,
               but
               raise
               no
               war
               to
               be
               reliev'd
               ,
            
             
               Nor
               through
               the
               envy'd
               Fav'rite
               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
               publick
               sight
               .
            
          
           
             
               15.
               
            
             
               If
               Loves
               just
               pow'r
               he
               did
               not
               early
               see
               ,
            
             
               Some
               small
               excuse
               we
               may
               his
               errour
               give
               ;
            
             
               Since
               few
               (
               though
               learn'd
               )
               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
               shew
               they
               out-live
               their
               Love
               ,
            
             
               If
               when
               their
               Love
               's
               decay'd
               ,
               some
               signs
               they
               give
            
             
               Of
               life
               ,
               because
               we
               see
               them
               pain'd
               and
               move
               ,
            
             
               Then
               Snakes
               ,
               long
               cut
               ,
               by
               torment
               shew
               they
               live
               .
            
          
           
             
               18.
               
            
             
               If
               we
               call
               living
               ,
               Life
               ,
               when
               Love
               is
               gone
               ,
            
             
               We
               then
               to
               Souls
               (
               Gods
               coyn
               )
               vain
               rev'rence
               pay
               ;
            
             
               Since
               Reason
               (
               which
               is
               Love
               ,
               and
               his
               best
               known
            
             
               And
               currant
               Image
               )
               Age
               has
               worn
               away
               .
            
          
           
             
               19.
               
            
             
               And
               I
               that
               Love
               and
               Reason
               thus
               unite
               ,
            
             
               May
               ,
               if
               I
               old
               Philosophers
               controul
               ,
            
             
               Confirm
               the
               new
               by
               some
               new
               Poets
               light
               ;
            
             
               Who
               finding
               Love
               ,
               thinks
               he
               has
               found
               the
               Soul.
               
            
          
           
             
             
               20.
               
            
             
               From
               Goltho
               ,
               to
               whom
               Love
               yet
               tasteless
               seem'd
               ,
            
             
               We
               to
               ripe
               Tybalt
               are
               by
               order
               led
               ;
            
             
               Tybalt
               ,
               who
               Love
               and
               Valour
               both
               esteem'd
               ,
            
             
               And
               he
               alike
               from
               eithers
               wounds
               had
               bled
               .
            
          
           
             
               21.
               
            
             
               Publick
               his
               valour
               was
               ,
               but
               not
               his
               love
               ,
            
             
               One
               fill'd
               the
               world
               ,
               the
               other
               he
               contain'd
               ;
            
             
               Yet
               quietly
               alike
               in
               both
               did
               move
               ,
            
             
               Of
               that
               ne'r
               boasted
               ,
               nor
               of
               this
               complain'd
               .
            
          
           
             
               22.
               
            
             
               With
               these
               (
               whose
               special
               names
               Verse
               shall
               preserve
               )
            
             
               Many
               to
               this
               recorded
               hunting
               came
               ;
            
             
               Whose
               worth
               authentick
               mention
               did
               deserve
               ,
            
             
               But
               from
               Time's
               deluge
               few
               are
               sav'd
               by
               Fame
               .
            
          
           
             
               23.
               
            
             
               Now
               like
               a
               Giant
               Lover
               rose
               the
               Sun
            
             
               From
               th'
               Ocean
               Queen
               ,
               fine
               in
               his
               fires
               and
               great
               ;
            
             
               Seem'd
               all
               the
               Morn
               for
               shew
               ,
               for
               strength
               at
               Noon
               ;
            
             
               As
               if
               last
               Night
               she
               had
               not
               quench'd
               his
               heat
               !
            
          
           
             
               24.
               
            
             
               And
               the
               Sun's
               Servants
               who
               his
               rising
               wait
               ,
            
             
               His
               Pensioners
               (
               for
               so
               all
               Lovers
               are
               ,
            
             
               And
               all
               maintain'd
               by
               him
               at
               a
               high
               rate
            
             
               With
               daily
               Fire
               )
               now
               for
               the
               Chace
               prepare
               .
            
          
           
             
               25.
               
            
             
               All
               were
               like
               Hunters
               clad
               in
               chearfull
               green
               ,
            
             
               Young
               Natures
               Livery
               ,
               and
               each
               at
               strife
            
             
               Who
               most
               adorn'd
               in
               favours
               should
               be
               seen
               ,
            
             
               Wrought
               kindly
               by
               the
               Lady
               of
               his
               life
               .
            
          
           
             
               26.
               
            
             
               These
               Martial
               Favours
               on
               their
               Wasts
               they
               wear
               ,
            
             
               On
               which
               (
               for
               now
               they
               Conquest
               celebrate
               )
            
             
               In
               an
               imbroider'd
               History
               appear
            
             
               Like
               life
               ,
               the
               vanquish'd
               in
               their
               fears
               and
               fate
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               27.
               
            
             
               And
               on
               these
               Belts
               (
               wrought
               with
               their
               Ladies
               care
               )
            
             
               Hung
               Semy●ers
               of
               Akons
               trusty
               steel
               ;
            
             
               Goodly
               to
               see
               ,
               and
               he
               who
               durst
               compare
            
             
               Those
               Ladies
               Eyes
               ,
               might
               soon
               their
               temper
               feel
               .
            
          
           
             
               28.
               
            
             
               Cheerd
               as
               the
               woods
               (
               where
               new
               wak'd
               Q●ires
               they
               meet
               )
            
             
               Are
               all
               ;
               and
               now
               dispose
               their
               choice
               Relays
            
             
               Of
               Horse
               and
               Hounds
               ,
               each
               like
               each
               other
               fleet
               ;
            
             
               Which
               best
               when
               with
               themseves
               compar'd
               we
               praise
               ;
            
          
           
             
               29.
               
            
             
               To
               them
               old
               Forrests
               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
               ment
            
             
               By
               Nature
               for
               surprize
               ,
               on
               these
               attend
               ;
            
             
               Wise
               temp'rate
               Lime
               Hounds
               that
               proclaim
               no
               scent
               ;
            
             
               Nor
               harb'ring
               will
               their
               Mouths
               in
               boasting
               spend
               .
            
          
           
             
               31.
               
            
             
               Yet
               vainlier
               far
               than
               Traitours
               boast
               their
               prize
            
             
               (
               On
               which
               their
               vehemence
               vast
               rates
               does
               lay
               ,
            
             
               Since
               in
               that
               worth
               their
               treasons
               credit
               lies
               )
            
             
               These
               Harb'rers
               praise
               that
               which
               they
               now
               betray
               .
            
          
           
             
               32.
               
            
             
               Boast
               they
               have
               lodg'd
               a
               Stag
               ,
               that
               all
               the
               Race
            
             
               Out-runs
               of
               Cr●ton
               Horse
               ,
               or
               Regian
               Hounds
               ;
            
             
               A
               Stag
               made
               long
               ,
               since
               Royal
               in
               the
               Chace
               ,
            
             
               If
               Kings
               can
               honour
               give
               by
               giving
               wounds
               .
            
          
           
             
               33.
               
            
             
               For
               Aribert
               had
               pierc'd
               him
               at
               a
               Bay
               ,
            
             
               Yet
               scap'd
               he
               by
               the
               vigour
               of
               his
               Head
               ;
            
             
               And
               many
               a
               Summer
               since
               has
               won
               the
               day
               ,
            
             
               And
               often
               left
               his
               Regian
               Foll'wrs
               dead
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               34.
               
            
             
               His
               spacious
               Beam
               (
               that
               even
               the
               Rights
               out-grew
               )
            
             
               From
               Antlar
               to
               his
               Troch
               had
               all
               allow'd
            
             
               By
               which
               his
               age
               the
               aged
               Woodmen
               knew
               ;
            
             
               Who
               more
               than
               he
               were
               of
               that
               beauty
               proud
               .
            
          
           
             
               35.
               
            
             
               Now
               each
               Relay
               a
               sev'ral
               Station
               finds
               ,
            
             
               Ere
               the
               triumphant
               Train
               the
               Cops
               surrounds
               ;
            
             
               Relays
               of
               Horse
               ,
               long
               breath'd
               as
               winter
               winds
               ,
            
             
               And
               their
               deep
               Cannon
               Mouth'd
               experienc'd
               Hounds
               .
            
          
           
             
               36.
               
            
             
               The
               Hunts-men
               (
               Busily
               concern'd
               in
               show
            
             
               As
               if
               the
               world
               were
               by
               this
               Beast
               undone
               ,
            
             
               And
               they
               against
               him
               hir'd
               as
               Natures
               Foe
               )
            
             
               In
               haste
               uncouple
               ,
               and
               their
               Hounds
               out-run
               .
            
          
           
             
               37.
               
            
             
               Now
               wind
               they
               a
               Recheat
               ,
               the
               rows'd
               Deers
               knell
               ;
            
             
               And
               through
               the
               Forrest
               all
               the
               Beasts
               are
               aw'd
               ,
            
             
               Alarmd
               by
               Eccho
               ,
               Natures
               Sentinel
               ,
            
             
               Which
               shews
               that
               murdrous
               Man
               is
               come
               abroad
               .
            
          
           
             
               38.
               
            
             
               Tyrannick
               Man
               !
               Thy
               subjects
               Enemy
               !
            
             
               And
               more
               through
               wantonness
               than
               need
               or
               hate
               ;
            
             
               From
               whom
               the
               winged
               to
               their
               Coverts
               flie
               ;
            
             
               And
               to
               their
               Dens
               even
               those
               that
               lay
               in
               wait
               .
            
          
           
             
               39.
               
            
             
               So
               this
               (
               the
               most
               successfull
               of
               his
               kind
               ,
            
             
               Whose
               Foreheads
               force
               oft
               his
               Opposers
               prest
               ,
            
             
               Whose
               swiftness
               left
               Pursuers
               shafts
               behind
               )
            
             
               Is
               now
               of
               all
               the
               Forrest
               most
               distrest
               !
            
          
           
             
               40.
               
            
             
               The
               Herd
               deny
               him
               shelter
               ,
               as
               if
               taught
            
             
               To
               know
               their
               safety
               is
               to
               yield
               him
               lost
               ;
            
             
               Which
               shews
               they
               want
               not
               the
               results
               of
               thought
               ,
            
             
               But
               speech
               ,
               by
               which
               we
               ours
               for
               reason
               boast
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               41.
               
            
             
               We
               blush
               to
               see
               our
               politicks
               in
               Beasts
               ,
            
             
               Who
               Many
               sav'd
               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
               us'd
               to
               fear
            
             
               For
               his
               lov'd
               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
               Man
               's
               fam'd
               reason
               proves
               but
               Cowardise
               ,
            
             
               And
               onely
               serves
               him
               meanly
               to
               betray
               ;
            
             
               Even
               for
               the
               flying
               ,
               Man
               ,
               in
               ambush
               lies
               .
            
          
           
             
               44.
               
            
             
               But
               now
               ,
               as
               his
               last
               remedy
               to
               live
               ,
            
             
               (
               For
               ev'ry
               shift
               for
               life
               kind
               Nature
               makes
               ;
            
             
               Since
               life
               the
               utmost
               is
               which
               she
               can
               give
               )
            
             
               Cool
               Adice
               from
               the
               swoln
               Bank
               he
               takes
               .
            
          
           
             
               45.
               
            
             
               But
               this
               fresh
               Bath
               the
               Dogs
               will
               make
               him
               leave
               ;
            
             
               Whom
               he
               sure
               nos'd
               as
               fasting
               Tygers
               found
               ;
            
             
               Their
               scent
               no
               North-east
               wind
               could
               e're
               deceave
            
             
               Which
               dries
               the
               air
               ,
               nor
               Flocks
               that
               foyl
               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.
               
            
             
               Refresh'd
               thus
               in
               this
               fleeting
               Element
               ,
            
             
               He
               up
               the
               stedfast
               Shore
               did
               boldly
               rise
               ;
            
             
               And
               soon
               escap'd
               their
               view
               ,
               but
               not
               their
               scent
               ;
            
             
               That
               faithfull
               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
               ayr
               .
            
          
           
             
               49.
               
            
             
               For
               on
               the
               Shore
               the
               Hunters
               him
               attend
               ;
            
             
               And
               whilst
               the
               Chace
               grew
               warm
               as
               is
               the
               day
            
             
               (
               Which
               now
               from
               the
               hot
               Zenith
               does
               descend
               )
            
             
               He
               is
               imbos'd
               ,
               and
               weary'd
               to
               a
               Bay.
               
            
          
           
             
               50.
               
            
             
               The
               Jewel
               ,
               Life
               ,
               he
               must
               surrender
               here
               ;
            
             
               Which
               the
               world's
               Mistris
               ,
               Nature
               ,
               does
               not
               give
               ,
            
             
               But
               like
               dropp'd
               Favours
               suffers
               us
               to
               wear
               ,
            
             
               Such
               as
               by
               which
               pleas'd
               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
               Regian
               Race
               such
               furie
               shows
            
             
               As
               their
               last
               bloud
               some
               unreveng'd
               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
               Murd'rers
               pierce
               ;
            
             
               Grief
               ,
               which
               so
               nobly
               through
               his
               anger
               strove
               ,
            
             
               That
               it
               deserv'd
               the
               dignitie
               of
               Verse
               ,
            
             
               And
               had
               it
               words
               as
               humanly
               would
               move
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               55.
               
            
             
               Thrice
               from
               the
               ground
               his
               vanquish'd
               Head
               he
               rear'd
               ,
            
             
               And
               with
               last
               looks
               his
               Forrest
               walks
               did
               view
               ;
            
             
               Where
               sixtie
               Summers
               he
               had
               rul'd
               the
               Heard
               ,
            
             
               And
               where
               sharp
               Dittanie
               now
               vainly
               grew
               :
            
          
           
             
               56.
               
            
             
               Whose
               hoarie
               Leaves
               no
               more
               his
               wounds
               shall
               heal
               ;
            
             
               For
               with
               a
               Sigh
               (
               a
               blast
               of
               all
               his
               breath
               )
            
             
               That
               viewless
               thing
               call'd
               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
               hum'rous
               Antiquaries
               prise
            
             
               Age
               though
               deform'd
               )
               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
               Grand-fire
               won
               ;
            
             
               Though
               Feasts
               the
               Eves
               to
               Fun'rals
               often
               are
               .
            
          
           
             
               59.
               
            
             
               One
               from
               the
               Forrest
               now
               approach'd
               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
               ,
               happie
               the
               Man
               that
               fastest
               flies
               ;
            
             
               Flie
               famous
               Duke
               ,
               flie
               with
               thy
               noble
               Train
               !
            
          
           
             
               61.
               
            
             
               The
               Duke
               reply'd
               ,
               though
               with
               thy
               fears
               disguis'd
               ,
            
             
               Thou
               do'st
               my
               Sires
               old
               Rangers
               Image
               bear
               ,
            
             
               And
               for
               thy
               kindness
               shalt
               not
               be
               despis'd
               ;
            
             
               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
               Forrests
               flie
               .
            
          
           
             
               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
               Launces
               arm'd
               to
               intercept
               thy
               way
               ,
            
             
               Now
               thy
               sure
               Steeds
               are
               weary'd
               with
               the
               Chace
               .
            
          
           
             
               65.
               
            
             
               His
               purple
               Banners
               you
               may
               there
               behold
               ,
            
             
               Which
               (
               proudly
               spred
               )
               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
               flie
               ▪
               but
               't
               is
               to
               view
            
             
               The
               Foe
               ,
               and
               timely
               their
               first
               count'nance
               learn
               ,
            
             
               Whilst
               firm
               he
               in
               a
               square
               his
               Hunters
               drew
               .
            
          
           
             
               67.
               
            
             
               And
               Hugo
               soon
               (
               light
               as
               his
               Coursers
               Heels
               )
            
             
               Was
               in
               their
               Faces
               troublesom
               as
               wind
               ;
            
             
               And
               like
               to
               it
               (
               so
               wingedly
               he
               wheels
               )
            
             
               No
               one
               could
               catch
               ,
               what
               all
               with
               trouble
               find
               .
            
          
           
             
               68.
               
            
             
               But
               ev'ry
               where
               the
               Leaders
               and
               the
               Led
            
             
               He
               temp'rately
               observ'd
               ,
               with
               a
               slow
               sight
               ;
            
             
               Judg'd
               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
               dispos'd
               ;
            
             
               And
               that
               their
               Enemies
               might
               judge
               it
               less
               ,
            
             
               It
               seem'd
               one
               Gross
               with
               all
               the
               Spaces
               clos'd
               .
            
          
           
             
               70.
               
            
             
               The
               Van
               fierce
               Oswald
               led
               ,
               where
               Paradine
            
             
               And
               Manly
               Dargonet
               (
               both
               of
               his
               blood
               )
            
             
               Out-shin'd
               the
               Noon
               ,
               and
               their
               Minds
               stock
               within
            
             
               Promis'd
               to
               make
               that
               outward
               glory
               good
               .
            
          
           
             
               71.
               
            
             
               The
               next
               bold
               ,
               but
               unlucky
               ,
               Hubert
               led
               ;
            
             
               Brother
               to
               Oswald
               ,
               and
               no
               less
               ally'd
            
             
               To
               the
               ambitions
               which
               his
               Soul
               did
               wed
               ;
            
             
               Lowly
               without
               ,
               but
               lin'd
               with
               costly
               Pride
               .
            
          
           
             
               72.
               
            
             
               Most
               to
               himself
               his
               valour
               fatal
               was
               ,
            
             
               Whose
               glories
               oft
               to
               others
               dreadfull
               were
               ;
            
             
               So
               Commets
               (
               though
               suppos'd
               Destructions
               cause
               )
            
             
               But
               waste
               themselves
               to
               make
               their
               Gazers
               ●e●r
               .
            
          
           
             
               73.
               
            
             
               And
               though
               his
               valour
               seldom
               did
               succeed
               ,
            
             
               His
               speech
               was
               such
               as
               could
               in
               Storms
               perswade
               ;
            
             
               Sweet
               as
               the
               Hopes
               on
               which
               starv'd
               Lovers
               feed
               ,
            
             
               Breath'd
               in
               the
               whispers
               of
               a
               yielding
               Maid
               .
            
          
           
             
               74.
               
            
             
               The
               bloudy
               Borgio
               did
               conduct
               the
               Rere
               ,
            
             
               Whom
               sullen
               Vasco
               heedfully
               attends
               ;
            
             
               To
               all
               but
               to
               themselves
               they
               cruel
               were
               ,
            
             
               And
               to
               themselves
               chiefly
               by
               mischief
               Friends
               .
            
          
           
             
               75.
               
            
             
               War
               ,
               the
               worlds
               Art
               ,
               Nature
               to
               them
               became
               ;
            
             
               In
               Camps
               begot
               ,
               born
               ,
               and
               in
               anger
               bred
               ;
            
             
               The
               living
               vex'd
               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
               sack'd
               ,
               as
               painfull
               Sheerers
               of
               the
               wise
               ;
            
             
               For
               they
               like
               carefull
               Wolves
               would
               lose
               their
               sleep
               ,
            
             
               When
               others
               prosp'rous
               toyls
               might
               be
               their
               prise
               .
            
          
           
             
               77.
               
            
             
               Hugo
               amongst
               the●●
               Troops
               spy'd
               many
               more
            
             
               Who
               had
               ,
               as
               brave
               Destroyers
               ,
               got
               renown
               ;
            
             
               And
               many
               forward
               wounds
               in
               boast
               they
               wore
               ;
            
             
               Which
               if
               not
               well
               reveng'd
               ,
               had
               ne'r
               been
               shown
               .
            
          
           
             
               78.
               
            
             
               Such
               the
               bold
               Leaders
               of
               these
               Launceers
               were
               ,
            
             
               Which
               of
               the
               
                 Brescian
                 Vet'rans
              
               did
               consist
               ;
            
             
               Whose
               practis'd
               age
               might
               charge
               of
               Armies
               bear
               ,
            
             
               And
               claim
               some
               ranck
               in
               Fame's
               eternal
               List.
               
            
          
           
             
               79.
               
            
             
               Back
               to
               his
               Duke
               the
               dextr'rous
               Hugo
               flies
               ;
            
             
               What
               he
               observ'd
               he
               chearfully
               declares
               ;
            
             
               With
               noble
               Pride
               did
               what
               he
               lik'd
               despise
               ;
            
             
               For
               wounds
               he
               threatned
               ,
               whilst
               he
               prais'd
               their
               skars
               .
            
          
           
             
               80.
               
            
             
               Lord
               Arnold
               cry'd
               ,
               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
               flie
               ,
            
             
               Reply'd
               aloud
               the
               noble
               Hurgonil
               ;
            
             
               But
               we
               not
               us'd
               to
               flight
               ,
               know
               best
               to
               die
               ,
            
             
               And
               those
               who
               know
               to
               die
               ,
               know
               how
               to
               kill
               .
            
          
           
             
               82.
               
            
             
               Victors
               through
               number
               never
               gain'd
               applause
               ;
            
             
               If
               they
               exceed
               our
               count
               in
               Arms
               and
               Men
               ,
            
             
               It
               is
               not
               just
               to
               think
               that
               ods
               ,
               because
            
             
               One
               Lover
               equals
               any
               other
               Ten.
               
            
          
        
         
           
           
             CANTO
             the
             Third
             .
          
           
             
               The
               ARGUMENT
               .
            
             
               
                 The
                 Ambush
                 is
                 become
                 an
                 inter-view
                 ;
              
               
                 And
                 the
                 Surpriser
                 proves
                 to
                 honour
                 true
                 ;
              
               
                 For
                 what
                 had
                 first
                 ,
                 ere
                 words
                 his
                 furie
                 spent
                 ,
              
               
                 Been
                 murder
                 ,
                 now
                 is
                 but
                 brave
                 killing
                 meant
                 .
              
               
                 A
                 Duel
                 form'd
                 where
                 Princes
                 Seconds
                 are
                 ,
              
               
                 And
                 urg'd
                 by
                 Honour
                 each
                 to
                 kill
                 his
                 share
                 .
              
            
          
           
             
               1.
               
            
             
               THe
               Duke
               observ'd
               (
               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
               loosly
               spred
               .
            
          
           
             
               2.
               
            
             
               Though
               in
               their
               posture
               close
               ,
               the
               Prince
               might
               guess
            
             
               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
               form'd
               Divisions
               yet
               reveal'd
               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
               watchfull
               eye
               ;
            
             
               Shap'd
               all
               his
               Forces
               to
               their
               Triple
               strength
               ;
            
             
               And
               that
               their
               Launces
               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
               Pow'r
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               6.
               
            
             
               In
               Fields
               far
               sever'd
               both
               had
               reap'd
               renown
               ;
            
             
               And
               now
               his
               envie
               does
               to
               surfet
               feed
            
             
               On
               what
               he
               wish'd
               his
               Eyes
               had
               never
               known
               ;
            
             
               For
               he
               begins
               to
               check
               his
               purpos'd
               deed
               .
            
          
           
             
               7.
               
            
             
               And
               though
               Ambition
               did
               his
               rage
               renew
               ;
            
             
               Yet
               much
               he
               griev'd
               (
               mov'd
               with
               the
               Youthfull
               Train
               )
            
             
               That
               Plants
               which
               so
               much
               promis'd
               as
               they
               grew
               ,
            
             
               Should
               in
               the
               Bud
               be
               ere
               performance
               ,
               slain
               .
            
          
           
             
               8.
               
            
             
               With
               these
               remorsefull
               thoughts
               ,
               he
               a
               fair
               space
            
             
               Advanc'd
               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
               easie
               reach
               of
               eithers
               voice
            
             
               Thus
               Oswald
               spake
               ,
               I
               wish
               (
               brave
               Gondibert
               )
            
             
               Those
               wrongs
               which
               make
               thee
               now
               my
               angers
               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
               brest
               ,
            
             
               Should
               I
               not
               arm
               ,
               but
               thinks
               my
               Scouts
               mistake
               ?
            
          
           
             
               11.
               
            
             
               'T
               is
               loud
               in
               Camps
               ,
               in
               Cities
               ,
               and
               in
               Court
               ,
            
             
               (
               Where
               the
               important
               part
               of
               Mankind
               meets
               )
            
             
               That
               my
               adoption
               is
               thy
               Faction's
               sport
               ;
            
             
               Scorn'd
               by
               hoarse
               Rhymers
               in
               Verona
               Streets
               .
            
          
           
             
               12.
               
            
             
               Who
               is
               renown'd
               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
               Kings
               decease
               ?
            
          
           
             
             
               13.
               
            
             
               The
               Crown
               he
               with
               his
               Daughter
               has
               design'd
               ;
            
             
               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
               veng'ance
               I
               intend
               ,
            
             
               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
               )
               wrong'd
               me
               by
               surprise
               ;
            
             
               Whose
               darker
               vigilance
               my
               love
               betraid
               ;
            
             
               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
               ;
            
             
               Then
               not
               my
               great
               revenge
               ,
               nor
               your
               great
               fault
               ,
            
             
               Can
               be
               accus'd
               when
               eithers
               act
               succeeds
               .
            
          
           
             
               17.
               
            
             
               Opinions
               stamp
               does
               virtue
               currant
               make
               ;
            
             
               But
               such
               small
               Money
               (
               though
               the
               Peoples
               Gold
            
             
               With
               which
               they
               trade
               )
               great
               Dealers
               scorn
               to
               take
               ,
            
             
               And
               we
               are
               greater
               than
               one
               world
               can
               hold
               .
            
          
           
             
               18.
               
            
             
               Now
               Oswald
               paws'd
               ,
               as
               if
               he
               curious
               were
            
             
               Ere
               this
               his
               Foe
               (
               the
               Peoples
               Fav'rite
               )
               dy'd
               ,
            
             
               To
               know
               him
               as
               with
               Eyes
               ,
               so
               with
               his
               Ear
               ;
            
             
               And
               to
               his
               speech
               thus
               Gondibert
               reply'd
               :
            
          
           
             
               19.
               
            
             
               Successfull
               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'ne
               ,
               though
               I
               were
               pris'ner
               made
               ;
            
             
               Lest
               you
               should
               think
               we
               may
               be
               justly
               kill'd
               ,
            
             
               And
               sacred
               justice
               by
               mistake
               invade
               .
            
          
           
             
               21.
               
            
             
               You
               might
               perceive
               (
               had
               not
               a
               distant
               war
            
             
               Hindred
               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
               Ambitions
               Feaver
               vex
               your
               mind
               .
            
          
           
             
               23.
               
            
             
               Nor
               wonder
               if
               I
               vouch
               ,
               that
               't
               is
               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
               hir'd
               valour
               were
               your
               faith
               reclaim'd
               ,
            
             
               (
               For
               faith
               reclaim'd
               to
               highest
               virtue
               turns
               )
            
             
               Will
               be
               of
               bravest
               salary
               asham'd
               .
            
          
           
             
               25.
               
            
             
               Onely
               with
               fame
               Valour
               of
               old
               was
               hir'd
               ;
            
             
               And
               love
               was
               so
               suffic'd
               with
               its
               own
               taste
               ,
            
             
               That
               those
               intemp'rate
               seem'd
               ,
               who
               more
               desir'd
            
             
               For
               loves
               reward
               ,
               than
               that
               it self
               should
               last
               .
            
          
           
             
               26.
               
            
             
               If
               love
               ,
               or
               lust
               of
               Empire
               ,
               breed
               your
               pain
               ,
            
             
               Take
               what
               my
               prudent
               hope
               hath
               still
               declin'd
               ,
            
             
               And
               my
               weak
               virtue
               never
               could
               sustain
               ,
            
             
               The
               Crown
               ,
               which
               is
               the
               worst
               of
               Rhodalind
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               27.
               
            
             
               'T
               is
               she
               who
               taught
               you
               to
               increase
               renown
               ,
            
             
               By
               sowing
               Honours
               Field
               with
               noble
               deeds
               ;
            
             
               Which
               yields
               no
               harvest
               when
               't
               is
               over-grown
            
             
               With
               wild
               Ambition
               ,
               the
               most
               rank
               of
               weeds
               .
            
          
           
             
               28.
               
            
             
               Go
               ,
               reconcile
               the
               winds
               faln
               ▪
               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
               stirr'd
               fire
               in
               sparkles
               upward
               flies
               ;
            
             
               Rage
               which
               the
               Duke
               thus
               practis'd
               to
               reclaim
               .
            
          
           
             
               30.
               
            
             
               Though
               you
               design'd
               your
               ruin
               by
               surprise
               ,
            
             
               Though
               much
               in
               usefull
               Arms
               you
               us
               exceed
               ,
            
             
               And
               in
               your
               number
               some
               advantage
               lies
               ,
            
             
               Yet
               you
               may
               find
               you
               such
               advantage
               need
               .
            
          
           
             
               31.
               
            
             
               If
               I
               am
               vallu'd
               as
               th'
               impediment
            
             
               Which
               hinders
               your
               adoption
               to
               the
               Crown
               ;
            
             
               Let
               your
               revenge
               onely
               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
               prise
               ,
            
             
               That
               to
               appease
               it
               we
               the
               bloud
               allow
            
             
               Of
               whole
               offenceless
               Herds
               for
               sacrifice
               .
            
          
           
             
               33.
               
            
             
               Oswald
               (
               who
               Honour
               's
               publick
               pattern
               was
               ,
            
             
               Till
               vain
               ambition
               led
               his
               heart
               aside
               )
            
             
               More
               temp'rate
               grew
               in
               manage
               of
               his
               cause
               ,
            
             
               And
               thus
               to
               noble
               Gondibert
               reply'd
               :
            
          
           
             
             
               34.
               
            
             
               I
               wish
               it
               were
               not
               needfull
               to
               be
               great
               ;
            
             
               That
               Heavens
               unenvy'd
               pow'r
               might
               Men
               so
               aw
               ,
            
             
               As
               we
               should
               need
               no
               Armies
               for
               defeat
               ,
            
             
               Nor
               for
               protection
               be
               at
               charge
               of
               Law.
               
            
          
           
             
               35.
               
            
             
               But
               more
               than
               Heav'ns
               ,
               Men
               ,
               Mans
               authoritie
            
             
               (
               Though
               envy'd
               )
               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
               Worlds
               safety
               we
               in
               greatness
               find
               ,
            
             
               And
               pow'r
               divided
               is
               from
               greatness
               gone
               ,
            
             
               Save
               we
               the
               World
               ,
               though
               to
               our selves
               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
               ingage
               ;
            
             
               But
               we
               our
               own
               great
               cause
               will
               singly
               end
               .
            
          
           
             
               38.
               
            
             
               Back
               to
               your
               noble
               Hunters
               strait
               retire
               ,
            
             
               And
               I
               to
               those
               who
               would
               those
               Hunters
               chace
               ;
            
             
               Let
               us
               perswade
               their
               fury
               to
               expire
               ,
            
             
               And
               give
               obediently
               our
               anger
               place
               .
            
          
           
             
               39.
               
            
             
               Like
               unconcern'd
               Spectatours
               let
               them
               stand
               ,
            
             
               And
               be
               by
               sacred
               vow
               to
               distance
               bound
               ;
            
             
               Whilst
               their
               lov'd
               Leaders
               by
               our
               strict
               command
               ,
            
             
               As
               patient
               witnesses
               ,
               approach
               this
               ground
               .
            
          
           
             
               40.
               
            
             
               Where
               with
               no
               more
               defensive
               Arms
               than
               was
            
             
               By
               Nature
               ment
               us
               ,
               who
               ordain'd
               Men
               Friends
               ,
            
             
               We
               will
               on
               foot
               determine
               our
               great
               cause
               ,
            
             
               On
               which
               the
               Lombards
               doubtfull
               peace
               depends
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               41.
               
            
             
               The
               Duke
               full
               low
               did
               bow
               ,
               and
               soon
               obay
               ,
            
             
               Confess'd
               his
               honour
               he
               transcendent
               finds
               ,
            
             
               Said
               he
               their
               persons
               might
               a
               meaner
               way
            
             
               With
               ods
               have
               aw'd
               ,
               but
               this
               subdues
               their
               Minds
               .
            
          
           
             
               42.
               
            
             
               Now
               wing'd
               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
               Dukes
               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
               resolv'd
               command
            
             
               Not
               to
               assist
               ,
               through
               anger
               nor
               remorse
               ;
            
             
               Who
               seem'd
               more
               willing
               patiently
               to
               stand
               ,
            
             
               Because
               each
               side
               presum'd
               their
               Champions
               force
               .
            
          
           
             
               45.
               
            
             
               Now
               near
               that
               ground
               ordain'd
               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
               griev'd
               Spectatours
               led
               .
            
          
           
             
               46.
               
            
             
               These
               from
               the
               distant
               Troops
               far
               sever'd
               are
               ;
            
             
               And
               near
               their
               Chiefs
               divided
               Stations
               take
               ;
            
             
               Who
               strait
               uncloath
               ,
               and
               for
               such
               deeds
               prepare
               ,
            
             
               By
               which
               strip'd
               Souls
               their
               fleshy
               Robes
               forsake
               .
            
          
           
             
               47.
               
            
             
               But
               Hubert
               now
               advanc'd
               ,
               and
               cry'd
               aloud
               ,
            
             
               I
               will
               not
               trust
               uncertain
               Destinie
               ,
            
             
               Which
               may
               obscurely
               kill
               me
               in
               a
               Crowd
               ,
            
             
               That
               here
               have
               pow'r
               in
               publick
               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
               chusing
               Monarchs
               ,
               to
               attend
               his
               wounds
               !
            
          
           
             
               49.
               
            
             
               This
               Hurgonil
               receiv'd
               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
               ,
            
             
               Cry'd
               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
               busie
               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
               bloudy
               Borgio
               ,
               who
               with
               anguish
               stay'd
               ,
            
             
               And
               check'd
               his
               rage
               ,
               till
               these
               of
               Oswald's
               Race
               ,
            
             
               By
               wish'd
               example
               their
               brave
               Challenge
               made
               ,
            
             
               Now
               like
               his
               curb'd
               Steed
               foaming
               ,
               shifts
               his
               place
               .
            
          
           
             
               54.
               
            
             
               And
               thus
               (
               with
               haste
               and
               choler
               hoarse
               )
               he
               spake
               ,
            
             
               Who
               e're
               amongst
               you
               thinks
               we
               destin'd
               are
            
             
               To
               serve
               that
               King
               your
               Courtly
               Camp
               shall
               make
               ,
            
             
               Falsly
               he
               loves
               ,
               nor
               is
               his
               Lady
               fair
               !
            
          
           
             
             
               55.
               
            
             
               This
               scarce
               could
               urge
               the
               temp'rate
               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
               reach'd
               Borgio's
               Ear
               ,
            
             
               When
               Goltho
               louder
               cry'd
               ,
               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
               distemper'd
               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
               strait
               ill
               written
               in
               his
               blood
               .
            
          
           
             
               59.
               
            
             
               Let
               Empire
               fall
               ,
               when
               we
               must
               Monarchs
               choose
               ,
            
             
               By
               what
               unpractis'd
               Childhood
               shall
               approve
               ;
            
             
               And
               in
               tame
               peace
               let
               us
               our
               Manhood
               loose
               ,
            
             
               When
               Boys
               yet
               wet
               with
               milk
               discourse
               of
               Love.
               
            
          
           
             
               60.
               
            
             
               As
               bashfull
               Maids
               blush
               ,
               as
               if
               justly
               blam'd
               ▪
            
             
               When
               forc'd
               to
               suffer
               some
               indecent
               Tongue
               ,
            
             
               So
               Goltho
               blush'd
               (
               whom
               Vasco
               made
               asham'd
               )
            
             
               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
               seem'd
               to
               burn
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               62.
               
            
             
               The
               Princes
               knew
               in
               this
               new
               kindled
               rage
               ,
            
             
               Opinion
               might
               (
               which
               like
               unlucky
               wind
            
             
               Sate
               right
               to
               make
               it
               spread
               )
               their
               Troops
               engage
               ;
            
             
               And
               therefore
               Oswald
               thus
               proclaim'd
               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
               interr'd
               you
               our
               commands
               forsake
               ?
            
          
           
             
               64.
               
            
             
               We
               chose
               you
               Judges
               of
               our
               needfull
               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
               Lombards
               Heav'n
               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
               disobay
               ▪
               d
               )
            
             
               Renown
               of
               pow'r
               ,
               like
               that
               of
               beauty
               flie
            
             
               From
               knowledge
               ,
               rather
               than
               be
               known
               decay'd
               !
            
          
           
             
               67.
               
            
             
               This
               when
               with
               rev'rence
               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
               Gen'rals
               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
               abas'd
               !
            
             
               Instinct
               ,
               the
               inward
               Image
               ,
               which
               is
               wrought
            
             
               And
               given
               with
               Life
               ,
               be
               like
               thaw'd
               wax
               defac'd
               !
            
             
               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
               Publick
               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
               Morns
               ,
               and
               with
               my
               Ev'nings
               fall
               !
            
          
           
             
               73.
               
            
             
               Bold
               Paradine
               and
               Dargonet
               reviv'd
            
             
               Their
               suit
               ,
               and
               cry'd
               ,
               We
               are
               Astolpho's
               sons
               !
            
             
               Who
               from
               your
               highest
               spring
               his
               blood
               deriv'd
               ,
            
             
               Though
               now
               it
               down
               in
               lower
               Channels
               runs
               .
            
          
           
             
               74.
               
            
             
               Such
               lucky
               seasons
               to
               attain
               renown
               ,
            
             
               We
               must
               not
               lose
               ,
               who
               are
               to
               you
               ally'd
               ;
            
             
               Others
               usurp
               ,
               who
               would
               your
               dangers
               own
               ,
            
             
               And
               what
               our
               duty
               is
               ,
               in
               them
               is
               pride
               .
            
          
           
             
               75.
               
            
             
               Then
               as
               his
               last
               Decree
               thus
               Oswald
               spake
               ;
            
             
               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
               ingage
               ,
            
             
               Be
               it
               his
               Curss
               still
               to
               be
               disobey'd
               .
            
          
           
             
               77.
               
            
             
               Wars
               Orders
               may
               he
               by
               the
               slow
               convey
            
             
               To
               such
               as
               onely
               shall
               dispute
               them
               long
               ;
            
             
               An
               ill
               peace
               make
               ;
               when
               none
               will
               him
               obey
               ,
            
             
               And
               be
               for
               that
               ,
               when
               old
               ,
               judg'd
               by
               the
               young
               .
            
          
           
             
               78.
               
            
             
               This
               said
               ,
               he
               calmly
               bid
               the
               Duke
               provide
            
             
               Such
               of
               his
               bloud
               ,
               as
               with
               those
               chosen
               Three
            
             
               (
               Whilst
               their
               adoption
               they
               on
               foot
               decide
               )
            
             
               May
               in
               brave
               life
               or
               death
               fit
               Partners
               be
               .
            
          
           
             
               79.
               
            
             
               Though
               here
               (
               reply'd
               the
               Duke
               )
               I
               find
               not
               now
            
             
               Such
               as
               my
               bloud
               with
               their
               alliance
               grace
               ,
            
             
               Yet
               Three
               I
               see
               to
               whom
               your
               stock
               may
               bow
               ,
            
             
               If
               love
               may
               be
               esteem'd
               of
               heav'nly
               Race
               .
            
          
           
             
               80.
               
            
             
               And
               much
               to
               me
               these
               are
               by
               love
               ally'd
               ;
            
             
               Then
               
                 Hugo
                 ,
                 Arnold
              
               ,
               and
               the
               Count
               drew
               near
               ;
            
             
               Count
               Hurgonil
               woo'd
               Orna
               for
               his
               Bride
               ,
            
             
               The
               other
               Two
               in
               Laura
               Rivals
               were
               .
            
          
           
             
               81.
               
            
             
               But
               Tybalt
               cry'd
               (
               and
               swiftly
               as
               his
               voice
            
             
               Approch'd
               the
               Duke
               )
               forgive
               me
               mightie
               Chief
               ,
            
             
               If
               justly
               I
               envie
               thy
               noble
               choice
               ,
            
             
               And
               disobey
               thee
               in
               wrong'd
               Love's
               relief
               .
            
          
           
             
               82.
               
            
             
               If
               rev'renc'd
               love
               be
               sacred
               Myst'rie
               deem'd
               ,
            
             
               And
               mysteries
               when
               hid
               ,
               to
               value
               grow
               ,
            
             
               Why
               am
               I
               less
               for
               hidden
               love
               esteem'd
               ?
            
             
               To
               unknown
               God-head
               ,
               wise
               Religions
               bow
               ,
            
          
           
             
             
               83.
               
            
             
               A
               Maid
               of
               thy
               high
               linage
               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
               my self
               ,
               be
               lost
               ?
            
          
           
             
               84.
               
            
             
               The
               Duke
               's
               firm
               bosome
               kindly
               seem'd
               to
               melt
            
             
               At
               Tybalt's
               grief
               ,
               that
               he
               omitted
               was
               ;
            
             
               Who
               lately
               had
               Love's
               secret
               conquest
               felt
               ,
            
             
               And
               hop'd
               for
               publick
               triumph
               in
               this
               cause
               .
            
          
           
             
               85.
               
            
             
               Then
               he
               decreed
               ,
               Hugo
               (
               though
               chose
               before
            
             
               To
               share
               in
               this
               great
               work
               )
               should
               equally
            
             
               With
               Tybalt
               be
               expos'd
               to
               Fortune's
               pow'r
               ,
            
             
               And
               by
               drawn
               Lots
               their
               wish'd
               election
               trie
               .
            
          
           
             
               86.
               
            
             
               Hugo
               his
               dreaded
               Lord
               with
               chearfull
               aw
            
             
               Us'd
               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
               reach'd
               at
               honour
               so
               ,
            
             
               As
               if
               they
               gath'ring
               Flow'rs
               a
               Snake
               discern'd
               ;
            
             
               Yet
               fear'd
               Love
               onely
               whose
               rewards
               then
               grow
            
             
               To
               Lovers
               sweetest
               ,
               when
               with
               danger
               earn'd
               .
            
          
           
             
               88.
               
            
             
               From
               this
               brave
               fear
               ,
               lest
               they
               should
               danger
               scape
               ,
            
             
               Was
               little
               Hugo
               eas'd
               ,
               and
               when
               he
               drew
            
             
               The
               Champion's
               lot
               ,
               his
               joy
               inlarg'd
               his
               shape
               ,
            
             
               And
               with
               his
               lifted
               mind
               he
               taller
               grew
               .
            
          
           
             
               89.
               
            
             
               But
               Tybalt
               stoop'd
               beneath
               his
               sorrows
               waight
               ;
            
             
               Goltho
               and
               him
               kindly
               the
               Duke
               imbrac'd
               ;
            
             
               Then
               to
               their
               station
               sent
               ;
               and
               Oswald
               straight
            
             
               His
               so
               injoyn'd
               ,
               and
               with
               like
               kindness
               grac'd
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               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
               threatning
               anger
               waste
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             CANTO
             the
             Fourth
             .
          
           
             
               The
               ARGUMENT
               .
            
             
               
                 The
                 Duel
                 where
                 all
                 rules
                 of
                 artfull
                 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
               Spie
               ,
            
             
               Where
               I
               these
               Rolls
               in
               her
               dark
               Closet
               read
               ,
            
             
               Where
               Worthies
               wrapt
               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
               recall'd
               to
               be
               again
               displeas'd
               ,
            
             
               Where
               during
               Natures
               reign
               we
               are
               opprest
               ,
            
             
               Till
               we
               by
               Deaths
               high
               priviledge
               are
               eas'd
               ?
            
          
           
             
             
               4.
               
            
             
               Is
               it
               to
               boast
               that
               Verse
               has
               Chymick
               pow'r
               ,
            
             
               And
               that
               its
               rage
               (
               which
               is
               productive
               heat
               )
            
             
               Can
               these
               revive
               ,
               as
               Chymists
               raise
               a
               Flower
               ,
            
             
               Whose
               scatter'd
               parts
               their
               Glass
               presents
               compleat
               ?
            
          
           
             
               5.
               
            
             
               Though
               in
               these
               Worthies
               gone
               ,
               valour
               and
               love
            
             
               Did
               chastely
               as
               in
               sacred
               Temples
               meet
               ,
            
             
               Such
               reviv'd
               Patterns
               us
               no
               more
               improve
               ,
            
             
               Than
               Flowers
               so
               rais'd
               by
               Chymists
               make
               us
               sweet
               .
            
          
           
             
               6.
               
            
             
               Yet
               when
               the
               souls
               disease
               we
               desp'rate
               find
               ,
            
             
               Poets
               the
               old
               renown'd
               Physitians
               are
               ,
            
             
               Who
               for
               the
               sickly
               habits
               of
               the
               mind
               ,
            
             
               Examples
               as
               the
               ancient
               cure
               prepare
               .
            
          
           
             
               7.
               
            
             
               And
               bravely
               then
               Physitians
               hononr
               gain
               ,
            
             
               When
               to
               the
               world
               diseases
               cureless
               seem
               ,
            
             
               And
               they
               (
               in
               Science
               valiant
               )
               ne'r
               refrain
            
             
               Arts
               war
               with
               Nature
               ,
               till
               they
               life
               redeem
               .
            
          
           
             
               8.
               
            
             
               But
               Poets
               their
               accustom'd
               task
               have
               long
            
             
               Forborn
               ,
               (
               who
               for
               Examples
               did
               disperse
            
             
               The
               Heroes
               virtues
               in
               Heroick
               Song
               )
            
             
               And
               now
               think
               virtue
               sick
               ,
               past
               cure
               of
               verse
               .
            
          
           
             
               9.
               
            
             
               Yet
               to
               this
               desp'rate
               cure
               I
               will
               proceed
               ,
            
             
               Such
               patterns
               shew
               as
               shall
               not
               fail
               to
               move
               ;
            
             
               Shall
               teach
               the
               valiant
               patience
               when
               they
               bleed
               ,
            
             
               And
               hapless
               Lovers
               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
               handsomly
               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
               battel
               oft
               that
               force
               hath
               spent
               ,
            
             
               Which
               Kings
               whole
               lives
               have
               gather'd
               for
               a
               war.
               
            
          
           
             
               14.
               
            
             
               As
               Rivers
               to
               their
               ruin
               hastie
               be
               ,
            
             
               So
               life
               (
               still
               earnest
               ,
               loud
               ,
               and
               swift
               )
               runs
               post
            
             
               To
               the
               vaste
               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
               pierc't
               ;
            
             
               From
               whence
               his
               bloud
               so
               overflow'd
               his
               Eyes
               ,
            
             
               He
               grew
               too
               blind
               to
               watch
               and
               guard
               his
               breast
               ,
            
             
               Where
               wounded
               twice
               ,
               to
               Deaths
               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
               resign'd
               ,
            
             
               And
               in
               a
               sigh
               to
               his
               dear
               Laura
               sent
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               18.
               
            
             
               Yet
               Fates
               so
               civil
               were
               in
               cruelty
            
             
               As
               not
               to
               yield
               that
               he
               who
               conquer'd
               all
            
             
               The
               Tuscan
               Vale
               ,
               should
               unartended
               die
               ,
            
             
               They
               therefore
               doom
               that
               Dargonet
               must
               fall
               .
            
          
           
             
               19.
               
            
             
               Whom
               little
               Hugo
               dext'rously
               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
               equall'd
               all
               ;
            
             
               And
               was
               asham'd
               thus
               diversly
               to
               bleed
               ,
            
             
               As
               if
               he
               stood
               where
               showrs
               of
               Arrows
               fall
               .
            
          
           
             
               21.
               
            
             
               At
               once
               he
               ventures
               his
               remaining
               strength
            
             
               To
               Hugo's
               nimble
               skill
               ,
               who
               did
               desire
            
             
               To
               draw
               this
               little
               war
               out
               into
               length
               ,
            
             
               By
               motions
               quick
               as
               Heav'ns
               fantastick
               fire
               !
            
          
           
             
               22.
               
            
             
               This
               fury
               now
               is
               grown
               too
               high
               at
               last
            
             
               In
               Dargonet
               ;
               who
               does
               disorder
               all
            
             
               The
               strengths
               of
               temp'rance
               by
               unruly
               haste
               ,
            
             
               Then
               down
               to
               Deaths
               low
               Calm
               does
               breathless
               fall
               .
            
          
           
             
               23.
               
            
             
               When
               with
               his
               own
               Storm
               sunk
               ,
               his
               Foe
               did
               spie
            
             
               Lord
               Arnold
               dead
               ,
               and
               Paradine
               prepare
            
             
               To
               help
               Prince
               Oswald
               to
               that
               victory
               ,
            
             
               Of
               which
               the
               Duke
               had
               yet
               an
               equal
               share
               .
            
          
           
             
               24.
               
            
             
               Vain
               Conquerour
               (
               said
               Hugo
               then
               )
               return
               !
            
             
               In
               stead
               of
               Laurel
               which
               the
               Victor
               wears
               ,
            
             
               Go
               gather
               Cypress
               for
               thy
               Brothers
               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
               approv'd
               ;
            
             
               Yet
               I
               (
               in
               Loves
               exact
               integritie
               )
            
             
               Must
               take
               thy
               life
               for
               killing
               him
               She
               lov'd
               .
            
          
           
             
               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
               enthron'd
               .
            
          
           
             
               28.
               
            
             
               And
               then
               they
               fell
               ,
               and
               now
               near
               upper
               Heaven
               ,
            
             
               Heav'ns
               better
               part
               of
               them
               is
               hov'ring
               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
               observ'd
               by
               Destinie
               ,
            
             
               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
               maintain'd
               it
               is
               grown
               less
               .
            
          
           
             
               31.
               
            
             
               Long
               had
               they
               strove
               ,
               who
               first
               should
               be
               destroy'd
               ;
            
             
               And
               wounds
               (
               the
               Marks
               of
               Manhood
               )
               gave
               and
               took
               ,
            
             
               Which
               though
               like
               honour'd
               Age
               ,
               we
               would
               avoid
               ,
            
             
               Yet
               make
               us
               when
               possess'd
               ,
               for
               rev'rence
               look
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               32.
               
            
             
               O
               Honour
               !
               Frail
               as
               Life
               thy
               sellow
               Flower
               !
            
             
               Cherish'd
               and
               watch'd
               ,
               and
               humr'ously
               esteem'd
               ,
            
             
               Then
               worn
               for
               short
               adornments
               of
               an
               hour
               ;
            
             
               And
               is
               when
               lost
               no
               more
               than
               life
               redeem'd
               .
            
          
           
             
               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
               onely
               Princes
               by
               excess
               .
            
          
           
             
               34.
               
            
             
               For
               having
               twice
               with
               his
               firm
               Opposite
            
             
               Exchang'd
               a
               wound
               ,
               yet
               none
               that
               reach'd
               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
               )
               rejoyce
               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
               asham'd
               thou
               draw'st
               it
               as
               a
               Prize
               .
            
          
           
             
               37.
               
            
             
               His
               grief
               made
               noble
               Hurgonil
               to
               melt
               ,
            
             
               Who
               mourn'd
               in
               this
               a
               Warriours
               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
               obay
               ;
            
             
               Their
               stretch'd
               Arms
               regular
               in
               motion
               prove
               ;
            
             
               And
               force
               with
               as
               unseen
               a
               stealth
               convay
               ,
            
             
               As
               noiseless
               hours
               by
               hands
               of
               Dials
               move
               .
            
          
           
             
               41.
               
            
             
               By
               this
               new
               temper
               Hurgonil
               believ'd
            
             
               That
               Oswald's
               elder
               virtues
               might
               prevail
               ;
            
             
               To
               think
               his
               own
               help
               needfull
               much
               he
               griev'd
               ;
            
             
               But
               yet
               prepar'd
               it
               le●t
               the
               Duke
               should
               fail
               .
            
          
           
             
               42.
               
            
             
               Small
               wounds
               they
               had
               ,
               where
               as
               in
               Casements
               ●ate
            
             
               Disorder'd
               Life
               ;
               who
               seem'd
               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
               arm'd
               at
               conquer'd
               Huberts
               cost
               ,
            
             
               He
               then
               ,
               who
               never
               fear'd
               ,
               began
               to
               fear
               ,
            
             
               Lest
               by
               his
               help
               his
               honour
               should
               be
               lost
               .
            
          
           
             
               44.
               
            
             
               Retire
               ,
               said
               he
               ;
               for
               if
               thou
               hop'st
               to
               win
            
             
               My
               Sisters
               love
               by
               aiding
               in
               this
               strife
               ;
            
             
               May
               Heav'n
               (
               to
               make
               her
               think
               thy
               love
               a
               s●n
               )
            
             
               Eclipse
               that
               beauty
               which
               did
               give
               it
               life
               .
            
          
           
             
               45.
               
            
             
               Count
               Hurgonil
               did
               doubtfully
               retire
               ,
            
             
               Fain
               would
               assist
               ,
               yet
               durst
               not
               disobay
               ;
            
             
               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
               Souldiers
               care
               ,
            
             
               More
               lov'd
               than
               Woman
               ,
               less
               than
               Woman
               true
               ▪
            
          
           
             
               47.
               
            
             
               And
               now
               they
               strive
               with
               all
               their
               sudden
               force
            
             
               To
               storm
               Life's
               Cit●adil
               ,
               each
               others
               Brest
               ;
            
             
               At
               which
               could
               Heav'ns
               chief
               Eye
               have
               felt
               remorse
               ,
            
             
               It
               would
               have
               wink'd
               ,
               or
               hast'ned
               to
               the
               West
               .
            
          
           
             
               48.
               
            
             
               But
               sure
               the
               Heav'nly
               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
               surrender'd
               to
               indiff'rent
               Chance
               ,
            
             
               Even
               Deaths
               grave
               work
               looks
               like
               fantastick
               play
               ;
            
             
               That
               Sword
               which
               oft
               did
               Oswald's
               fame
               advance
            
             
               In
               publick
               war
               ,
               fails
               in
               a
               private
               fray
               .
            
          
           
             
               50.
               
            
             
               For
               when
               (
               because
               he
               ebbes
               of
               bloud
               did
               feel
               )
            
             
               He
               levell'd
               all
               his
               strength
               at
               Gondibert
               ,
            
             
               It
               clash'd
               and
               broke
               against
               the
               adverse
               steel
               ,
            
             
               Which
               travell'd
               onward
               till
               it
               reach'd
               his
               heart
               .
            
          
           
             
               51.
               
            
             
               Now
               he
               that
               like
               a
               stedfast
               statue
               stood
            
             
               In
               many
               Battels
               registerd
               by
               Fames
               ,
            
             
               Does
               fall
               depriv'd
               of
               language
               as
               of
               blood
               ;
            
             
               Whilst
               high
               the
               Hunters
               send
               their
               Victors
               name
               .
            
          
           
             
               52.
               
            
             
               Some
               shout
               aloud
               ,
               and
               others
               wind
               the
               Horn
               !
            
             
               They
               mix
               the
               Cities
               with
               the
               Field's
               applause
               ;
            
             
               Which
               Borgio
               soon
               interprets
               as
               their
               scorn
               ,
            
             
               And
               will
               revenge
               it
               ere
               he
               mourn
               the
               cause
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               53.
               
            
             
               This
               the
               cold
               Evening
               warm'd
               of
               Vasco's
               age
               ;
            
             
               He
               shin'd
               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
               (
               astonish'd
               with
               their
               Leaders
               fate
               )
            
             
               The
               horrour
               first
               with
               silence
               entertain
               ;
            
             
               With
               loud
               impatience
               than
               for
               Borgio
               wait
               ,
            
             
               And
               next
               with
               one
               confusion
               all
               complain
               .
            
          
           
             
               55.
               
            
             
               Whom
               thus
               he
               urg'd
               !
               Prince
               Oswald
               did
               command
            
             
               We
               should
               remove
               far
               from
               the
               Combat's
               list
               ;
            
             
               And
               there
               like
               unconcern'd
               Spectatours
               stand
               ,
            
             
               Justly
               restrain'd
               to
               hinder
               or
               assist
               .
            
          
           
             
               56.
               
            
             
               This
               (
               Patient
               Friends
               !
               )
               we
               dully
               have
               obay'd
               ;
            
             
               A
               temp'rance
               which
               he
               never
               taught
               before
               ,
            
             
               But
               though
               alive
               he
               could
               forbid
               our
               aid
               ,
            
             
               Yet
               dead
               ,
               he
               leaves
               revenge
               within
               our
               pow'r
               .
            
          
        
         
           
           
             CANTO
             the
             Fifth
             .
          
           
             
               The
               ARGUMENT
               .
            
             
               
                 The
                 Battel
                 in
                 exact
                 ,
                 though
                 little
                 shape
                 ,
              
               
                 Where
                 none
                 by
                 flight
                 ,
                 and
                 few
                 by
                 fortune
                 scape
                 ,
              
               
                 Where
                 even
                 the
                 vanquish'd
                 so
                 themselves
                 behave
                 ,
              
               
                 The
                 Victors
                 mourn
                 for
                 all
                 they
                 could
                 not
                 save
                 :
              
               
                 And
                 fear
                 (
                 so
                 soon
                 is
                 Fortune's
                 fullness
                 wain'd
                 )
              
               
                 To
                 lose
                 in
                 one
                 ,
                 all
                 that
                 by
                 all
                 they
                 gain'd
                 .
              
            
          
           
             
               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
               busie
               Battel
               try'd
               .
            
          
           
             
               2.
               
            
             
               Those
               who
               with
               Borgio
               saw
               his
               want
               of
               blood
               ,
            
             
               Cry'd
               out
               ,
               If
               of
               thy
               strength
               enough
               remain
               ,
            
             
               Though
               not
               to
               charge
               ,
               to
               make
               thy
               conduct
               good
            
             
               Lead
               us
               to
               adde
               their
               living
               to
               our
               slain
               .
            
          
           
             
               3.
               
            
             
               Hubert
               reply'd
               ,
               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
               Ladies
               songs
               admire
               .
            
          
           
             
               4.
               
            
             
               But
               he
               (
               Wars
               Ancestour
               ,
               who
               gave
               it
               birth
               ,
            
             
               The
               Father
               of
               those
               Fights
               we
               Lombards
               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
               Victors
               Crown
               ;
            
             
               Both
               swift
               to
               Charge
               ,
               and
               lame
               in
               a
               Retreat
               ;
            
             
               Brothers
               in
               bloud
               ,
               and
               Rivals
               in
               renown
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               6.
               
            
             
               This
               said
               ,
               their
               Trumpets
               sound
               Revenge's
               praise
               ;
            
             
               The
               Hunters
               Horns
               (
               though
               terrour
               of
               the
               wood
               )
            
             
               Reply'd
               so
               meanly
               ,
               they
               could
               scarcely
               raise
            
             
               Eccho
               so
               loud
               as
               might
               be
               understood
               .
            
          
           
             
               7.
               
            
             
               The
               Duke
               (
               his
               fit
               of
               fury
               being
               spent
               ,
            
             
               Which
               onely
               wounds
               and
               opposition
               bred
               )
            
             
               Does
               weep
               on
               faded
               Oswald
               ,
               and
               lament
            
             
               What
               was
               so
               great
               in
               life
               ,
               is
               nothing
               dead
               .
            
          
           
             
               8.
               
            
             
               But
               cry'd
               ,
               when
               he
               the
               speechless
               Rivals
               spy'd
               ,
            
             
               O
               worth
               ,
               above
               the
               ancient
               price
               of
               Love
               !
            
             
               Lost
               are
               the
               living
               ,
               for
               with
               these
               love
               dy'd
               ;
            
             
               Or
               if
               immortal
               ,
               fled
               with
               them
               above
               .
            
          
           
             
               9.
               
            
             
               In
               these
               we
               the
               intrinsick
               value
               know
            
             
               By
               which
               first
               Lovers
               did
               love
               currant
               deem
               ;
            
             
               But
               Love's
               false
               Coyners
               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
               Panthers
               chace
            
             
               They
               flie
               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
               fixt
               patience
               move
               ;
            
             
               Though
               scorn
               does
               more
               thā
               boads
               free
               minds
               provoke
               :
            
             
               Their
               flashy
               rage
               shall
               harmless
               lightning
               prove
               ,
            
             
               Which
               but
               fore-runs
               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
               us'd
               those
               arts
               your
               patience
               yields
               ,
            
             
               Try
               to
               avoid
               their
               couched
               Launces
               force
            
             
               By
               dext'rous
               practise
               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
               Battels
               ,
               which
               t'
               amuse
               the
               Foe
            
             
               My
               Grand-sire
               taught
               ,
               as
               Wars
               Philosopher
               .
            
          
           
             
               19.
               
            
             
               Think
               now
               your
               Valour
               enters
               on
               the
               Stage
               ,
            
             
               Think
               Fame
               th'
               Eternal
               Choru●
               to
               declare
            
             
               Your
               mighty
               minds
               to
               each
               succeeding
               age
               ,
            
             
               And
               that
               your
               Ladies
               the
               Spectatours
               are
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               20.
               
            
             
               This
               utter'd
               was
               with
               so
               supream
               a
               grace
               ,
            
             
               That
               ev'ry
               heart
               it
               empty'd
               ,
               and
               did
               raise
            
             
               Life's
               chiefest
               blood
               in
               valour
               to
               the
               Face
               ,
            
             
               Which
               made
               such
               beauty
               as
               the
               Foe
               did
               praise
               .
            
          
           
             
               21.
               
            
             
               Yet
               't
               was
               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
               )
            
             
               Advanc'd
               the
               first
               Division
               fast
               and
               far
               ;
            
             
               Bold
               Borgio
               with
               the
               next
               attends
               his
               Rear
               ,
            
             
               The
               Third
               was
               left
               to
               Vasco's
               steddy
               care
               .
            
          
           
             
               23.
               
            
             
               The
               Duke
               still
               watch'd
               when
               each
               Divisions
               space
            
             
               Grew
               wide
               ,
               that
               he
               might
               his
               more
               open
               spred
               ;
            
             
               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
               beguil
               ,
            
             
               And
               urge
               them
               past
               redemption
               by
               retreat
               .
            
          
           
             
               25.
               
            
             
               But
               when
               with
               Launces
               couch'd
               they
               ready
               were
               ,
            
             
               And
               their
               thick
               Front
               (
               which
               added
               Files
               in
               large
               )
            
             
               With
               their
               ply'd
               spurs
               kept
               time
               in
               a
               Career
               ,
            
             
               Those
               soon
               were
               vanish'd
               whom
               they
               meant
               to
               charge
               .
            
          
           
             
               26.
               
            
             
               The
               Duke
               by
               flight
               his
               Manhood
               thus
               and
               force
            
             
               Reserv'd
               ,
               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
               reviv'd
               the
               war
               ;
            
             
               Hubert
               pursues
               the
               Rear
               of
               Hurgonil
               ;
            
             
               And
               Borgio's
               Rear
               with
               Chace
               so
               loos'ned
               are
               ,
            
             
               That
               them
               the
               Count
               does
               with
               close
               order
               kill
               .
            
          
           
             
               28.
               
            
             
               And
               that
               which
               was
               erewhile
               the
               Dukes
               firm
               Van
               ,
            
             
               Before
               old
               Vasco's
               Front
               vouchsafe
               to
               flie
               ,
            
             
               Till
               with
               Croation
               Ralleys
               they
               began
            
             
               In
               small
               Divisions
               hidden
               strength
               to
               trie
               .
            
          
           
             
               29.
               
            
             
               Then
               cursing
               Borgio
               cry'd
               ,
               Whence
               comes
               his
               skill
               ,
            
             
               Who
               men
               so
               scatter'd
               can
               so
               firmly
               mix
               ?
            
             
               The
               living
               Metal
               ,
               held
               so
               volatile
            
             
               By
               thy
               dull
               word
               ,
               this
               Chymick
               Lord
               can
               fix
               !
            
          
           
             
               30.
               
            
             
               He
               press'd
               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
               (
               belov'd
               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
               dispatch'd
               with
               those
               he
               sought
               ,
            
             
               And
               found
               his
               aid
               must
               flie
               ,
               or
               come
               too
               late
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               34.
               
            
             
               For
               he
               advancing
               saw
               (
               which
               much
               him
               griev'd
               )
            
             
               That
               in
               the
               fairest
               Region
               of
               the
               Face
               ,
            
             
               He
               two
               wide
               wounds
               from
               Borgio
               had
               receiv'd
               ;
            
             
               His
               beauties
               blemish
               ,
               but
               his
               valours
               grace
               .
            
          
           
             
               35.
               
            
             
               Now
               cry'd
               the
               Duke
               ,
               strive
               timely
               for
               renown
               !
            
             
               Thy
               Age
               will
               kiss
               those
               wounds
               thy
               Youth
               may
               loath
               ;
            
             
               Be
               not
               dismaid
               to
               see
               thy
               beautie
               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
               dispatch'd
               him
               to
               his
               grave
               ,
            
             
               Had
               Gondibert
               stood
               neutral
               in
               the
               Strife
               :
            
          
           
             
               37.
               
            
             
               Who
               with
               his
               sword
               (
               disdaining
               now
               to
               stay
            
             
               And
               see
               the
               bloud
               he
               lov'd
               so
               rudely
               spilt
               )
            
             
               Pierc't
               a
               bold
               Lombard
               who
               imbarr'd
               his
               way
               ;
            
             
               Even
               till
               his
               heart
               did
               beat
               against
               his
               Hilt.
               
            
          
           
             
               38.
               
            
             
               Timely
               old
               Vasco
               came
               to
               Borgio's
               aid
               ;
            
             
               Whose
               long
               experienc'd
               Arm
               wrought
               sure
               and
               fast
               ;
            
             
               His
               rising
               oppositions
               level
               laid
               ,
            
             
               And
               miss'd
               no
               execution
               by
               his
               haste
               .
            
          
           
             
               39.
               
            
             
               And
               timely
               where
               the
               bleeding
               Count
               now
               fought
               ,
            
             
               And
               where
               the
               Duke
               with
               Number
               was
               opprest
               ,
            
             
               Resistless
               Tybalt
               came
               ,
               who
               Borgio
               sought
               ,
            
             
               But
               here
               with
               many
               Borgios
               did
               contest
               .
            
          
           
             
               40.
               
            
             
               As
               Tides
               ,
               that
               from
               their
               sev'ral
               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
               ingag'd
               ;
            
             
               Are
               hid
               in
               angers
               undistinguish'd
               Fome
               ,
            
             
               And
               make
               less
               way
               by
               meeting
               so
               inrag'd
               .
            
          
           
             
               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
               rev'rence
               take
               .
            
          
           
             
               43.
               
            
             
               Vasco
               he
               seeks
               ,
               who
               had
               his
               Youth
               disdain'd
               ;
            
             
               And
               in
               that
               search
               he
               with
               irreverend
               rage
               ,
            
             
               Revengefully
               from
               younger
               Foes
               abstain'd
               ,
            
             
               And
               deadly
               grew
               where
               he
               encounterd
               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
               faln
               ,
               but
               bravely
               then
            
             
               The
               Count
               so
               much
               reveng'd
               the
               wounds
               he
               gave
               ,
            
             
               As
               Gondibert
               (
               the
               Prop
               of
               falling
               Men
               )
            
             
               Such
               sinking
               greatness
               could
               not
               chuse
               but
               save
               .
            
          
           
             
               46.
               
            
             
               When
               Vasco
               was
               remov'd
               ,
               the
               Count
               declin'd
            
             
               His
               bashfull
               Eyes
               ;
               the
               Duke
               thought
               suddain
               shame
            
             
               (
               From
               sence
               of
               luckless
               wounds
               )
               possess'd
               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
               bloud
               ,
            
             
               Thy
               parting
               beautie
               will
               in
               honour
               rise
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               48.
               
            
             
               These
               scars
               thou
               needst
               not
               from
               my
               Sister
               hide
               ;
            
             
               For
               as
               our
               Father
               ,
               in
               brave
               battel
               lost
               ,
            
             
               She
               first
               did
               name
               with
               sorrow
               ,
               then
               with
               pride
               ,
            
             
               Thy
               beauties
               loss
               she
               'l
               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
               vex'd
               Hubert
               ,
               who
               in
               all
            
             
               This
               battel
               was
               by
               ready
               conduct
               known
               ,
            
             
               And
               though
               unarm'd
               ,
               and
               his
               spent
               force
               so
               small
            
             
               He
               could
               to
               none
               bring
               death
               ,
               yet
               sought
               his
               own
               :
            
          
           
             
               51.
               
            
             
               And
               ev'ry
               where
               ,
               where
               Rallies
               made
               a
               Gross
            
             
               He
               charg'd
               ;
               and
               now
               with
               last
               reserves
               he
               try'd
            
             
               His
               too
               slow
               fate
               from
               Gondibert
               to
               force
               ,
            
             
               Where
               he
               was
               Victor
               and
               where
               Vasco
               dy'd
               .
            
          
           
             
               52.
               
            
             
               The
               Duke
               (
               in
               Honours
               School
               exactly
               bred
               )
            
             
               Would
               not
               that
               this
               defenceless
               Prince
               should
               be
            
             
               Involv'd
               with
               those
               ,
               whom
               he
               to
               dying
               led
               ,
            
             
               Therefore
               ordain'd
               him
               still
               from
               slaughter
               free
               .
            
          
           
             
               53.
               
            
             
               And
               now
               his
               pow'r
               did
               gently
               make
               him
               know
               ,
            
             
               That
               he
               must
               keep
               his
               life
               ,
               and
               quit
               the
               cause
               ;
            
             
               More
               Pris'ner
               to
               him self
               than
               to
               his
               Foe
               ,
            
             
               For
               life
               within
               himself
               in
               Prison
               was
               .
            
          
           
             
               54.
               
            
             
               His
               fierce
               Assistance
               did
               not
               quit
               the
               Field
               ,
            
             
               Till
               forward
               marks
               declar'd
               they
               fairly
               fought
               ;
            
             
               And
               then
               they
               all
               with
               sullen
               slowness
               yield
               ;
            
             
               Vex'd
               they
               had
               found
               what
               vain
               Revenge
               had
               sought
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               55.
               
            
             
               In
               the
               renown'd
               destruction
               of
               this
               day
               ,
            
             
               Four
               hundred
               Leaders
               were
               by
               valours
               pride
            
             
               Led
               to
               blest
               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
               demeanor
               past
               ,
            
             
               (
               Teaching
               your
               Foes
               a
               wiser
               choise
               of
               strife
               )
            
             
               Deserve
               a
               Lease
               of
               Nature
               that
               may
               last
               .
            
          
           
             
               58.
               
            
             
               Love
               warm'd
               you
               with
               those
               hints
               which
               kindled
               me
               ;
            
             
               And
               form'd
               Ideas
               in
               each
               lovers
               thought
            
             
               Of
               the
               distress
               of
               some
               beloved
               she
               ,
            
             
               Who
               then
               inspir'd
               ,
               and
               prais'd
               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
               trie
               which
               side
               must
               after
               Battel
               mourn
               .
            
          
           
             
               60.
               
            
             
               O
               that
               those
               rights
               which
               should
               the
               good
               advance
               ,
            
             
               And
               justly
               are
               to
               painfull
               valour
               due
               ,
            
             
               (
               How
               ere
               misplac'd
               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
               preferr'd
               by
               being
               dead
               )
            
             
               Would
               kindly
               wish
               to
               fight
               again
               in
               flesh
               :
            
             
               So
               all
               that
               lov'd
               by
               Hurgonil
               were
               led
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               62.
               
            
             
               This
               gracious
               mention
               from
               so
               great
               a
               Lord
               ,
            
             
               Bow'd
               Hurgonil
               with
               dutious
               homage
               down
               ,
            
             
               Where
               at
               his
               feet
               he
               laid
               his
               rescn'd
               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
               hast
               ,
               and
               timely
               bring
            
             
               Thy
               wounds
               unto
               my
               tender
               Sister's
               care
               ;
            
             
               This
               Days
               sad
               story
               to
               our
               dreaded
               King
               ,
            
             
               And
               watch
               what
               veng'ance
               Oswald's
               Friends
               prepare
               .
            
          
           
             
               65.
               
            
             
               Brave
               Arnold
               ,
               and
               his
               Rival
               streight
               remove
               ;
            
             
               Where
               Laura
               shall
               bestrew
               their
               hallow'd
               Ground
               ;
            
             
               Protectours
               both
               ,
               and
               Ornaments
               of
               Love
               ;
            
             
               This
               said
               ,
               his
               Eyes
               out-weep'd
               his
               widest
               wound
               .
            
          
           
             
               66.
               
            
             
               Tell
               her
               now
               these
               (
               Love's
               faithful
               Saints
               )
               are
               gon
               ,
            
             
               The
               beautie
               they
               ador'd
               ,
               she
               ought
               to
               hide
               ;
            
             
               For
               vainly
               will
               Love's
               Miracles
               be
               shown
               ,
            
             
               Since
               Lovers
               faith
               with
               these
               brave
               Rivals
               dy'd
               .
            
          
           
             
               67.
               
            
             
               Say
               little
               Hugo
               never
               more
               shall
               mourn
            
             
               In
               noble
               Numbers
               her
               unkind
               disdain
               ;
            
             
               Who
               now
               not
               seeing
               beautie
               feels
               no
               scorn
               ;
            
             
               And
               wanting
               pleasure
               ,
               is
               exempt
               from
               pain
               .
            
          
           
             
               68.
               
            
             
               When
               she
               with
               Flowrs
               Lord
               Arnold's
               Grave
               shall
               strew
               ,
            
             
               And
               hears
               why
               Hugo's
               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
               straight
               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
               gon
               )
            
             
               Forbid
               me
               not
               ,
               I
               Bergamo
               will
               see
            
             
               Ere
               it
               beholds
               the
               next
               succeeding
               Sun.
               
            
          
           
             
               71.
               
            
             
               Thither
               convey
               thy
               souls
               consid'rate
               thought
               ,
            
             
               How
               in
               this
               cause
               the
               Court
               and
               Camp
               's
               inclin'd
               ;
            
             
               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
               tow'rds
               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
               easie
               pow'r
               ,
            
             
               Shall
               you
               as
               little
               vex
               ,
               as
               Death
               your
               dead
               .
            
          
           
             
               74.
               
            
             
               The
               Dead
               can
               ne'r
               by
               living
               help
               return
            
             
               From
               that
               dark
               Land
               ,
               which
               life
               could
               ne'r
               diselese
               ;
            
             
               But
               these
               alive
               (
               for
               whom
               the
               Victors
               mourn
               )
            
             
               To
               thee
               I
               give
               ,
               thee
               to
               thine
               own
               dispose
               .
            
          
           
             
               75.
               
            
             
               Be
               not
               with
               honours
               guilded
               Baits
               beguild
               ;
            
             
               Nor
               think
               Ambition
               wife
               ,
               because
               't
               is
               brave
               ;
            
             
               For
               though
               we
               like
               it
               ,
               as
               a
               forward
               Child
               ,
            
             
               'T
               is
               so
               unsound
               ,
               her
               Cradle
               is
               her
               Grave
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               76.
               
            
             
               Study
               the
               mighty
               Oswald
               vainly
               gone
               !
            
             
               Fierce
               Paradine
               ,
               and
               Dargonet
               the
               stout
               !
            
             
               Whos
               's
               Thirds
               by
               patient
               Parcae
               slowly
               spun
               ,
            
             
               Ambition's
               haste
               has
               rashly
               ravell'd
               out
               .
            
          
           
             
               77.
               
            
             
               But
               Hubert's
               grief
               no
               precept
               could
               reform
               :
            
             
               For
               great
               grief
               counsell'd
               ,
               does
               to
               anger
               grow
               ;
            
             
               And
               he
               provided
               now
               a
               future
               Storm
               ,
            
             
               Which
               did
               with
               black
               revenge
               orecast
               his
               Brow.
               
            
          
           
             
               78.
               
            
             
               Borgio
               and
               he
               from
               this
               dire
               Region
               haste
               ;
            
             
               Shame
               makes
               them
               sightless
               to
               themselves
               and
               dumb
               ;
            
             
               Their
               thoughts
               flie
               swift
               as
               Time
               from
               what
               is
               past
               ;
            
             
               And
               would
               like
               him
               demolish
               all
               to
               come
               .
            
          
           
             
               79.
               
            
             
               Strait
               they
               interre
               th'
               inferiour
               of
               their
               slain
               ;
            
             
               Their
               nobler
               Tragick
               load
               their
               grief
               attends
            
             
               Tow'rds
               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
               Lovers
               Death
               has
               staid
               behind
               .
            
          
           
             
               81.
               
            
             
               Some
               lost
               their
               quiet
               Rivals
               ,
               some
               their
               dear
            
             
               Love's
               Brother
               ,
               who
               their
               hopes
               with
               help
               approv'd
               ;
            
             
               Some
               such
               joy'd
               Friends
               ,
               as
               even
               tomorrow
               were
            
             
               To
               take
               from
               Hymen
               those
               they
               dearest
               lov'd
               .
            
          
           
             
               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
               forsook
               ,
            
             
               And
               Nature
               calls
               for
               Art
               to
               make
               Life
               stay
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               83.
               
            
             
               His
               Friends
               in
               torment
               lest
               they
               should
               forsake
            
             
               Delightfull
               him
               ,
               for
               whom
               alone
               they
               live
               ;
            
             
               Urge
               Heav'n
               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
                 subdu'd
                 )
              
               
                 By
                 such
                 deform'd
                 and
                 dismal
                 Troops
                 pursu'd
                 ,
              
               
                 That
                 he
                 thinks
                 Death
                 ,
                 than
                 which
                 they
                 uglier
                 seem
                 ,
              
               
                 No
                 ill
                 expedient
                 to
                 escape
                 from
                 them
                 .
              
               
                 But
                 ULFIN
                 guids
                 him
                 to
                 sage
                 ASTRAGON
                 ,
              
               
                 By
                 the
                 last
                 Rays
                 of
                 the
                 descending
                 Sun.
                 
              
            
          
           
             
               1.
               
            
             
               SCarce
               on
               their
               Duke
               their
               fears
               kind
               fit
               was
               spent
               ,
            
             
               When
               strait
               a
               thick
               arm'd
               Squadron
               clouds
               their
               sight
               ,
            
             
               Which
               cast
               so
               dark
               a
               shade
               ,
               as
               if
               it
               meant
            
             
               Without
               the
               Suns
               slow
               leave
               ,
               to
               bring
               in
               night
               .
            
          
           
             
               2.
               
            
             
               This
               threatning
               Squadron
               did
               consist
               of
               Horse
               ,
            
             
               And
               by
               old
               Ulfin
               they
               were
               gravely
               led
               ,
            
             
               Whose
               mind
               was
               sound
               ,
               nor
               wants
               his
               Body
               force
               ,
            
             
               Though
               many
               Winters
               Snow
               had
               coold
               his
               head
               .
            
          
           
             
               3.
               
            
             
               The
               sad
               remainder
               who
               with
               Hubert
               went
               ,
            
             
               Did
               miss
               his
               reach
               ,
               when
               they
               to
               Brescia
               turn'd
               ,
            
             
               And
               now
               (
               as
               if
               his
               haste
               destruction
               meant
               )
            
             
               He
               chac'd
               these
               who
               the
               Dukes
               spent
               valour
               mourn'd
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               4.
               
            
             
               Whose
               posture
               being
               loose
               ,
               their
               number
               few
               ,
            
             
               His
               Scouts
               grow
               scornfull
               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
               )
            
             
               Believ'd
               him
               Oswald's
               Friend
               ,
               yet
               scorn'd
               the
               way
            
             
               To
               shelter
               life
               ,
               behind
               abandon'd
               Truth
               .
            
          
           
             
               6.
               
            
             
               For
               he
               to
               Ulfin
               boldly
               thus
               reply'd
               ,
            
             
               This
               second
               Ambush
               finds
               us
               here
               in
               vain
               ;
            
             
               We
               have
               no
               treasure
               left
               that
               we
               would
               hide
               ,
            
             
               Since
               Gondibert
               is
               reckon'd
               with
               the
               slain
               .
            
          
           
             
               7.
               
            
             
               Duke
               Gondibert
               we
               vouch
               to
               be
               our
               Lord
               ,
            
             
               To
               whose
               high
               virtues
               Sov'raignty
               we
               bow
               ;
            
             
               Oswald
               sunk
               low
               ,
               as
               death
               ,
               beneath
               his
               Sword
               ,
            
             
               Though
               him
               superiour
               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
               rev'rence
               which
               a
               Monarch
               draws
               ,
            
             
               Who
               seldom
               will
               be
               seen
               ,
               though
               often
               sought
               ;
            
             
               Who
               spends
               his
               carefull
               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
               us'd
               to
               tears
               )
               bathe
               ev'ry
               wound
               ;
            
             
               Which
               he
               salutes
               as
               things
               he
               chiefly
               lov'd
               ;
            
             
               And
               when
               expence
               of
               spirits
               he
               had
               found
               ,
            
             
               To
               gain
               him
               air
               ,
               his
               Mourners
               he
               remov'd
               .
            
          
           
             
               12.
               
            
             
               Make
               way
               ,
               said
               he
               ,
               and
               give
               Experience
               room
               ,
            
             
               The
               Confident
               of
               age
               ,
               though
               Youth
               's
               scorn'd
               guide
               ,
            
             
               My
               wounds
               ,
               though
               past
               ,
               out
               number
               yours
               to
               come
               ,
            
             
               You
               can
               but
               hope
               the
               knowledge
               I
               have
               try'd
               .
            
          
           
             
               13.
               
            
             
               His
               Hilts
               round
               Pommel
               he
               did
               then
               unskrew
               ,
            
             
               And
               thence
               (
               which
               he
               from
               ancient
               Precept
               wore
               )
            
             
               In
               a
               small
               Chrystal
               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
               call'd
               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
               wondring
               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
               ev'ry
               visage
               mourn'd
               ,
            
             
               (
               Where
               black
               did
               over-vail
               ,
               or
               ill
               supply
               )
            
             
               Was
               that
               which
               wonder
               into
               horrid
               turn'd
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               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
               call'd
               back
            
             
               By
               Cordials
               pow'r
               )
               his
               wonder
               did
               increase
            
             
               So
               much
               ,
               that
               he
               agen
               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
               Grandsires
               Page
               .
            
          
           
             
               21.
               
            
             
               That
               mighty
               Chief
               I
               serv'd
               in
               youth's
               first
               strength
               ,
            
             
               Who
               our
               short
               Scepter
               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
               fetter'd
               been
               ,
            
             
               By
               which
               soft
               sinews
               are
               congeal'd
               to
               wire
               .
            
          
           
             
               23.
               
            
             
               And
               many
               scorching
               Summers
               we
               have
               felt
               ,
            
             
               Where
               Death
               relieves
               all
               whom
               the
               sword
               invades
               ;
            
             
               And
               kindly
               thence
               (
               where
               we
               should
               toyling
               melt
               )
            
             
               Leads
               us
               to
               rest
               beneath
               eternal
               shades
               .
            
          
           
             
               24.
               
            
             
               For
               aid
               of
               action
               he
               obedience
               taught
               ,
            
             
               And
               silent
               patience
               for
               afflictions
               cure
               :
            
             
               He
               prais'd
               my
               courage
               when
               I
               boldly
               fought
               ,
            
             
               But
               said
               ,
               They
               conquer
               most
               ,
               that
               most
               endure
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               25.
               
            
             
               The
               toyls
               of
               diligence
               as
               much
               approv'd
            
             
               As
               Valour
               's
               self
               ,
               or
               th'
               Arts
               her
               practise
               gains
               ;
            
             
               The
               care
               of
               Men
               ,
               more
               than
               of
               glory
               lov'd
               ,
            
             
               Success
               rewarded
               ,
               and
               successless
               pains
               .
            
          
           
             
               26.
               
            
             
               To
               joyfull
               Victors
               quenching
               water
               sent
               ,
            
             
               Delightfull
               wine
               to
               their
               lamenting
               slaves
               ;
            
             
               For
               Feasts
               have
               more
               brave
               lives
               than
               Famine
               spent
               ,
            
             
               And
               Temp'rance
               more
               than
               Trench
               or
               Armour
               saves
               .
            
          
           
             
               27.
               
            
             
               Valour
               his
               Mistress
               ,
               Caution
               was
               his
               Friend
               ;
            
             
               Both
               to
               their
               diff'rent
               seasons
               he
               appli'd
               ;
            
             
               The
               first
               he
               lov'd
               ,
               on
               th'
               other
               did
               depend
               ;
            
             
               The
               first
               made
               worth
               uneasie
               by
               her
               pride
               .
            
          
           
             
               28.
               
            
             
               He
               to
               submiss
               devotion
               more
               was
               given
            
             
               After
               a
               battel
               gain'd
               ,
               than
               ere
               't
               was
               fought
               ;
            
             
               As
               if
               it
               nobler
               were
               to
               thank
               high
               Heav'n
            
             
               For
               favours
               past
               ,
               than
               bow
               for
               bounty
               sought
               .
            
          
           
             
               29.
               
            
             
               And
               thus
               through
               smarting
               heat
               ,
               and
               aking
               cold
               ,
            
             
               Till
               Heav'ns
               perpetual
               Traveller
               ▪
               had
               more
            
             
               Than
               thirty
               journeys
               through
               the
               Zodiack
               told
               ,
            
             
               I
               serv'd
               thy
               Grandsire
               ,
               whom
               I
               now
               adore
               .
            
          
           
             
               30.
               
            
             
               For
               Heav'n
               in
               his
               too
               ripe
               and
               weary
               age
               ,
            
             
               Call'd
               him
               ,
               where
               peacefully
               he
               rules
               a
               Star
               ;
            
             
               Free'd
               from
               the
               lower
               El'ments
               ceaseless
               rage
               ,
            
             
               Which
               last
               like
               Monarchs
               pow'r
               by
               needfull
               war.
               
            
          
           
             
               31.
               
            
             
               Strait
               thy
               lamented
               Father
               did
               succeed
            
             
               To
               his
               high
               place
               ,
               by
               Aribert's
               consent
               ,
            
             
               Our
               Ensigns
               through
               remoter
               Lands
               to
               lead
               :
            
             
               Him
               too
               I
               follow'd
               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
               gain'd
               ,
               and
               they
               the
               battel
               lost
               ,
            
             
               Yet
               then
               thy
               brave
               victorious
               Father
               dy'd
               .
            
          
           
             
               33.
               
            
             
               And
               I
               am
               stay'd
               unwillingly
               behind
               ;
            
             
               Not
               caught
               with
               wealth
               ,
               Life's
               most
               intangling
               snare
               ;
            
             
               Though
               both
               my
               Masters
               were
               in
               giving
               kind
               ,
            
             
               As
               joyfull
               Victors
               after
               Battel
               are
               .
            
          
           
             
               34.
               
            
             
               Whilst
               thus
               this
               aged
               Leader
               does
               express
            
             
               His
               and
               their
               Story
               whom
               this
               bounty
               feeds
               ,
            
             
               His
               hands
               the
               Duke
               's
               worst
               order'd
               wounds
               undress
            
             
               And
               gently
               bind
               ;
               then
               strait
               he
               thus
               proceeds
               .
            
          
           
             
               35.
               
            
             
               West
               from
               those
               Hills
               till
               you
               Cremona
               reach
               ,
            
             
               With
               an
               unmingled
               right
               I
               gather
               rent
               ;
            
             
               By
               their
               great
               Gift
               who
               did
               such
               precepts
               teach
            
             
               In
               giving
               ,
               as
               their
               wealth
               is
               ne'r
               misspent
               .
            
          
           
             
               36.
               
            
             
               For
               as
               their
               plenteous
               pity
               fills
               my
               thought
               ,
            
             
               So
               their
               example
               was
               not
               read
               in
               vain
               ;
            
             
               A
               Thousand
               ,
               who
               for
               them
               in
               battel
               fought
               ,
            
             
               And
               now
               distress'd
               with
               Maims
               ,
               I
               entertain
               :
            
          
           
             
               37.
               
            
             
               Not
               giving
               like
               to
               those
               ,
               whose
               gifts
               ,
               though
               scant
               ,
            
             
               Pain
               them
               ,
               as
               if
               they
               gave
               with
               gowty
               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
               pleasures
               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
               wise-mans
               vow
               ,
            
             
               From
               Cities
               noise
               ,
               and
               Cou●●s
               unpity'd
               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
               ,
               disturb'd
               my
               rest
               ,
            
             
               With
               dreadfull
               news
               that
               gracious
               Gondibert
            
             
               By
               Oswald's
               Faction
               was
               in
               fight
               opprest
               .
            
          
           
             
               41.
               
            
             
               Then
               it
               had
               given
               your
               wonder
               cause
               to
               last
               ,
            
             
               To
               see
               the
               vex'd
               mistakes
               this
               summons
               wrought
            
             
               In
               all
               my
               Maim'd
               Domesticks
               by
               their
               haste
               ,
            
             
               For
               some
               tie
               on
               the
               Limbs
               which
               others
               sought
               .
            
          
           
             
               42.
               
            
             
               Just
               such
               mistakes
               audacious
               Ethnicks
               say
            
             
               Will
               happen
               where
               the
               Righteous
               busie
               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
               usefull
               Thought
               ,
            
             
               Had
               them
               to
               more
               mistakes
               than
               blindness
               led
               ▪
            
             
               But
               that
               our
               awfull
               Camps
               had
               silence
               taught
               .
            
          
           
             
               44.
               
            
             
               Silence
               did
               Mem'ry
               ,
               Mem'ry
               order
               make
               ▪
            
             
               Order
               to
               each
               did
               his
               mist
               wood
               restore
               ▪
            
             
               For
               some
               ,
               who
               once
               were
               stedfast
               Foo●
               ,
               mistake
               ,
            
             
               And
               snatch
               those
               limbs
               which
               onely
               Horse-men
               wore
               .
            
          
           
             
               45.
               
            
             
               Like
               swift
               Pursuers
               on
               Arabian
               Horse
               ,
            
             
               These
               with
               their
               needfull
               Instruments
               of
               hold
            
             
               (
               Which
               give
               their
               strange
               adapted
               weapons
               force
               )
            
             
               I
               mounted
               strait
               Five
               Hundred
               fully
               told
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               46.
               
            
             
               These
               from
               the
               Lombards
               highly
               have
               deserv'd
               ,
            
             
               In
               Conquests
               where
               thy
               Father
               did
               command
               ;
            
             
               Whom
               they
               for
               Science
               and
               affection
               serv'd
               ,
            
             
               And
               lost
               their
               Limbs
               to
               gain
               our
               Scepter
               Land.
               
            
          
           
             
               47.
               
            
             
               Which
               yet
               are
               noble
               ,
               though
               unsightly
               signs
               ,
            
             
               That
               each
               in
               active
               courage
               much
               abounds
               ;
            
             
               And
               many
               a
               widow'd
               Mother
               now
               repines
               ,
            
             
               They
               cannot
               shew
               the
               Men
               who
               gave
               those
               wounds
               .
            
          
           
             
               48.
               
            
             
               For
               dearly
               did
               the
               Huns
               for
               honour
               pay
               ,
            
             
               When
               they
               deform'd
               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
               Gen'ral's
               Son
               ,
            
             
               Who
               was
               to
               Souldiers
               more
               than
               Triumph
               dear
               .
            
          
           
             
               50.
               
            
             
               For
               these
               to
               Conquest
               us'd
               ,
               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
               remov'd
               ,
            
             
               It
               now
               returns
               ,
               gladly
               on
               him
               to
               gaze
               ,
            
             
               Who
               feeds
               those
               Fighters
               whom
               his
               Father
               lov'd
               ;
            
             
               A
               gratitude
               would
               Virtue
               's
               self
               amaze
               .
            
          
           
             
               52.
               
            
             
               Thou
               art
               ,
               said
               he
               ,
               (
               then
               melted
               whilst
               he
               spake
               )
            
             
               So
               ripe
               in
               what
               nice
               Heav'n
               does
               dearly
               love
               ,
            
             
               That
               Heav'ns
               remorse
               for
               Earth
               we
               should
               mistake
               ,
            
             
               To
               think
               it
               will
               forbear
               thee
               long
               above
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               53.
               
            
             
               As
               if
               thy
               sent
               for
               Soul
               already
               were
            
             
               Upon
               her
               Wings
               ,
               so
               much
               I
               give
               thee
               gon
               ;
            
             
               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'
               inrich
               him
               ,
               gives
               the
               Jewell
               of
               his
               sight
               ;
            
             
               For
               strait
               ,
               with
               Father's
               grave
               authoritie
               ,
            
             
               He
               bids
               his
               son
               ,
               young
               Ulfinor
               alight
               !
            
          
           
             
               55.
               
            
             
               Take
               him
               (
               said
               he
               )
               whose
               duty
               I
               release
               ;
            
             
               In
               whom
               all
               Heav'ns
               rewards
               included
               are
               ,
            
             
               For
               all
               my
               Justice
               in
               corrupted
               peace
               ,
            
             
               And
               for
               my
               mercy
               in
               revengeful
               war.
               
            
          
           
             
               56.
               
            
             
               The
               fruit
               Heav'ns
               sent
               me
               by
               my
               loyal
               wife
               ,
            
             
               In
               age
               ,
               the
               gloomy
               Eve
               of
               endless
               night
               ;
            
             
               Which
               eas'd
               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
               luckie
               Goltho
               he
               call'd
               forth
               in
               view
               ;
            
             
               Who
               was
               this
               day
               in
               Fortun
               's
               special
               grace
               ,
            
             
               For
               though
               no
               blood
               he
               lost
               ,
               yet
               much
               he
               drew
               .
            
          
           
             
               58.
               
            
             
               Him
               he
               with
               Ulfinor
               does
               strait
               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
               eithers
               open
               book
               ,
            
             
               Where
               nought
               is
               writ
               too
               hard
               for
               sodain
               Eies
               ;
            
             
               But
               ●ought's
               plain
               Text
               grows
               easie
               by
               a
               look
               :
            
             
               Study
               breeds
               doubt
               ,
               where
               reading
               should
               suffice
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               60.
               
            
             
               But
               these
               to
               joyn
               Nature
               no
               Counsel
               needs
               ;
            
             
               Whom
               Sympathy
               ,
               her
               secret
               Priest
               ,
               does
               wed
               ;
            
             
               Much
               fam'd
               will
               be
               their
               loves
               ,
               and
               Martial
               Deeds
               ;
            
             
               Which
               fill
               all
               Books
               that
               are
               of
               Lombards
               read
               .
            
          
           
             
               61.
               
            
             
               With
               gracious
               Eyes
               ,
               and
               Bodie
               lo●ly
               bent
               ,
            
             
               The
               Duke
               his
               Fathers
               rev'rend
               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
               Suns
               hot
               Steeds
               begin
            
             
               To
               mend
               their
               pace
               ,
               as
               if
               their
               longing
               sight
            
             
               Had
               newly
               spy'd
               their
               usual
               Western
               Inn.
               
            
          
           
             
               63.
               
            
             
               Too
               far
               is
               pleasant
               Bergamo
               from
               hence
               ,
            
             
               Since
               Day
               has
               reach'd
               so
               near
               his
               journeys
               end
               ;
            
             
               Days
               strength
               and
               yours
               are
               at
               their
               last
               expence
               ;
            
             
               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
               dwels
               .
            
          
           
             
               65.
               
            
             
               Rich
               is
               that
               Lord
               ,
               and
               rich
               in
               learnings
               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
               ,
               check'd
               by
               Destinie
               ,
            
             
               Has
               many
               secrets
               she
               would
               ne'r
               impart
               ;
            
             
               This
               fam'd
               Philosopher
               is
               Natures
               Spie
               ,
            
             
               And
               hireless
               gives
               th'
               intelligence
               to
               Art.
               
            
          
           
             
             
               67.
               
            
             
               The
               Duke
               with
               virtue
               (
               antiquated
               now
               )
            
             
               Did
               rev'rence
               Counsel
               ,
               and
               to
               Age
               did
               bend
               ;
            
             
               His
               first
               Course
               alters
               ,
               and
               does
               this
               allow
               ;
            
             
               Then
               Ulfin
               as
               their
               Guide
               they
               all
               attend
               .
            
          
           
             
               68.
               
            
             
               Soon
               they
               the
               Pallace
               reach'd
               of
               Astragon
               ;
            
             
               Which
               had
               its
               beauty
               hid
               by
               envious
               Night
               ,
            
             
               Whose
               Cypress
               Curtain
               drawn
               before
               the
               Sun
               ,
            
             
               Seem'd
               to
               perform
               the
               Obsequies
               of
               light
               .
            
          
           
             
               69.
               
            
             
               Yet
               Light
               's
               last
               rays
               were
               not
               intirely
               spent
               ,
            
             
               For
               they
               discern'd
               their
               passage
               through
               a
               Gate
               ,
            
             
               Whose
               height
               and
               space
               shew'd
               ancient
               ornament
               ,
            
             
               And
               Ancients
               there
               in
               carefull
               Office
               sate
               .
            
          
           
             
               70.
               
            
             
               Who
               by
               their
               Weights
               and
               Measures
               did
               record
            
             
               Such
               num'rous
               Burdens
               as
               were
               thither
               brought
            
             
               From
               distant
               Regions
               ,
               to
               their
               learned
               Lord
               ;
            
             
               On
               which
               his
               Chymicks
               and
               Distillers
               wrought
               .
            
          
           
             
               71.
               
            
             
               But
               now
               their
               common
               bus'ness
               they
               refrain
               ,
            
             
               When
               they
               observe
               a
               quiet
               fullenness
            
             
               And
               bloody
               marks
               in
               such
               a
               civil
               Train
               ;
            
             
               Which
               shew'd
               at
               once
               their
               worth
               and
               their
               distress
               .
            
          
           
             
               72.
               
            
             
               The
               voice
               of
               ulfin
               they
               with
               gladness
               knew
               ,
            
             
               Whom
               to
               this
               house
               long
               neighbourhood
               indeer'd
            
             
               Approaching
               Torches
               perfected
               their
               view
               ,
            
             
               And
               taught
               the
               way
               till
               Astragon
               appear'd
               .
            
          
           
             
               73.
               
            
             
               Who
               soon
               did
               Ulfin
               chearfully
               embrace
               ,
            
             
               The
               visits
               cause
               by
               whispers
               he
               receiv'd
               ;
            
             
               Which
               first
               he
               hop'd
               was
               meant
               him
               as
               a
               grace
               ,
            
             
               But
               being
               known
               ,
               with
               manly
               silence
               griev'd
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               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
               ordain'd
               to
               Bed.
               
            
          
           
             
               75.
               
            
             
               Then
               thin
               digestive
               food
               he
               did
               provide
               ,
            
             
               More
               to
               enable
               fleeting
               strength
               to
               stay
               ;
            
             
               To
               wounds
               well
               search'd
               he
               cleansing
               wines
               apply'd
               ,
            
             
               And
               so
               prepar'd
               his
               rip'ning
               Balsoms
               way
               .
            
          
           
             
               76.
               
            
             
               Balm
               of
               the
               Warriour's
               herb
               ,
               Hypericon
               !
            
             
               To
               warriour's
               as
               in
               use
               ,
               in
               form
               decreed
               ;
            
             
               For
               through
               the
               leaves
               transparent
               wounds
               are
               shown
               ;
            
             
               And
               rudely
               touch'd
               ,
               the
               Golden
               Flower
               does
               bleed
               .
            
          
           
             
               77.
               
            
             
               For
               sleep
               they
               juice
               of
               pale
               Nymphaea
               took
               ,
            
             
               Which
               grows
               (
               to
               shew
               that
               it
               for
               sleep
               is
               good
               )
            
             
               Near
               sleep's
               abode
               ,
               in
               the
               soft
               murm'ring
               Brook
               :
            
             
               This
               cools
               ,
               the
               yellow
               Flow'r
               restrains
               the
               Bloud
               :
            
          
           
             
               78.
               
            
             
               And
               now
               the
               wearie
               world's
               great
               Med'cin
               ,
               Sleep
               ,
            
             
               This
               learned
               Host
               dispenc'd
               to
               ev'ry
               Guest
               ;
            
             
               Which
               shuts
               those
               wounds
               where
               injur'd
               Lovers
               weep
               ,
            
             
               And
               flies
               Oppressours
               to
               relieve
               th'
               Opprest
               .
            
          
           
             
               79.
               
            
             
               It
               loves
               the
               Corrage
               ,
               and
               from
               Court
               abstains
               ,
            
             
               It
               stills
               the
               Sea
               man
               though
               the
               Storm
               be
               high
               ;
            
             
               Frees
               the
               griev'd
               Captive
               in
               his
               closest
               Chains
               ,
            
             
               Stops
               wants
               loud
               Mouth
               ,
               &
               blinds
               the
               treach'rous
               Spie
               !
            
          
           
             
               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
                 reap'd
                 by
                 war.
              
               
                 The
                 slain
                 ,
                 whose
                 life
                 her
                 safetie
                 was
                 and
                 pride
                 ,
              
               
                 Are
                 now
                 in
                 death
                 their
                 Fun'ral
                 Rites
                 deny'd
                 .
              
            
          
           
             
               1.
               
            
             
               SUnk
               near
               his
               Evening
               Region
               was
               the
               Sun
               ,
            
             
               When
               Hurgonil
               with
               his
               lamented
               Load
               ,
            
             
               And
               faithfull
               Tybalt
               their
               sad
               march
               begun
            
             
               To
               Fair
               Verona
               ,
               where
               the
               Court
               aboad
               .
            
          
           
             
               2.
               
            
             
               They
               slowly
               rode
               till
               Night's
               dominion
               ceast
               ;
            
             
               When
               infant
               Morn
               (
               her
               scarce
               wak'd
               beams
               display'd
               )
            
             
               With
               a
               scant
               face
               peep●
               shylie
               through
               the
               East
               ,
            
             
               And
               seem'd
               as
               yet
               of
               the
               black
               world
               afraid
               .
            
          
           
             
               3.
               
            
             
               But
               by
               increase
               of
               swift
               expansive
               light
               ,
            
             
               The
               lost
               Horizon
               was
               apparent
               grown
               ,
            
             
               And
               many
               Tow'rs
               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
               loosly
               gather'd
               up
               by
               ●ame
               )
            
             
               Proclaims
               the
               chief
               of
               ancient
               Tuscan
               Lords
               .
            
          
           
             
               5.
               
            
             
               Verona
               borders
               on
               that
               fatal
               Plain
               ;
            
             
               Whose
               barren
               thirst
               was
               quench'd
               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
               lack'd
               ;
            
             
               As
               if
               Theodorick
               had
               ne'r
               been
               there
               ,
            
             
               Nor
               Attila
               her
               wealth
               and
               beauty
               sack'd
               .
            
          
           
             
               7.
               
            
             
               Here
               Hurgonil
               might
               follow
               with
               his
               Eye
            
             
               (
               As
               with
               deep
               stream
               it
               through
               the
               City
               pass'd
               )
               ▪
            
             
               The
               fruitfull
               and
               the
               frighted
               Adice
               ,
            
             
               Which
               thence
               from
               noise
               and
               nets
               to
               sea
               does
               haste
               .
            
          
           
             
               8.
               
            
             
               And
               on
               her
               peopled
               Bank
               they
               might
               behold
            
             
               The
               toyls
               of
               conquest
               paid
               with
               works
               of
               pride
               ;
            
             
               The
               Palace
               of
               King
               Agilulf
               the
               old
               ,
            
             
               Or
               Monument
               ,
               for
               ere
               't
               was
               built
               ,
               he
               dy'd
               .
            
          
           
             
               9.
               
            
             
               To
               it
               that
               Temple
               joyns
               ,
               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
               sooth
               Heav'n
               the
               bloody
               Clephes
               built
               ,
            
             
               As
               if
               Heav'ns
               King
               so
               soft
               and
               easie
               were
               ,
            
             
               So
               meanly
               hous'd
               in
               Heav'n
               ,
               and
               kind
               to
               guilt
               ,
            
             
               That
               he
               would
               be
               a
               Tyrant's
               Tenant
               here
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               11.
               
            
             
               And
               now
               they
               might
               arrest
               their
               wa●d'ring
               ●ight
            
             
               With
               that
               which
               makes
               all
               other
               Objects
               lost
               ;
            
             
               Makes
               Lombard
               greatness
               ●●a●
               to
               〈◊〉
               height
               ,
            
             
               And
               Modern
               Builders
               bl●●●
               ,
               that
               else
               would
               ●oast
               :
            
          
           
             
               12.
               
            
             
               An
               Amphy
               theater
               which
               has
               controll'd
            
             
               Unheeded
               conquests
               of
               advancing
               Age
               ,
            
             
               Winds
               which
               have
               made
               the
               trembling
               world
               look
               old
               ,
            
             
               And
               the
               uncivil
               Goth's
               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
               bus'ness
               which
               begins
               with
               day
               .
            
          
           
             
               14.
               
            
             
               As
               Day
               now
               op'ning
               fils
               the
               Hemisphear
               ,
            
             
               And
               all
               at
               once
               ;
               so
               quickly
               ev'ry
               street
            
             
               Does
               by
               an
               instant
               op'ning
               full
               appear
               ,
            
             
               When
               from
               their
               dwellings
               busie
               Dwellers
               meet
               .
            
          
           
             
               15.
               
            
             
               From
               wider
               Gates
               Oppressours
               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
               Creditours
               their
               Debtours
               chace
               ,
            
             
               Who
               scape
               by
               herding
               in
               th'
               indebted
               Throng
               .
            
          
           
             
               17.
               
            
             
               Th'
               advent'rous
               Merchant
               ,
               whom
               a
               Storm
               did
               wake
               ,
            
             
               (
               His
               Ships
               on
               Adriatick
               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
               skar'd
               Adult'rer
               ,
               who
               out-slept
               his
               time
               ;
            
             
               Day
               ,
               and
               the
               Husbands
               Spie
               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
               Gamsters
               homeward
               steal
               ,
            
             
               And
               fear
               to
               wake
               ,
               ere
               they
               begin
               to
               sleep
               .
            
          
           
             
               20.
               
            
             
               Here
               stooping
               Lab'rers
               slowly
               moving
               are
               ;
            
             
               Beasts
               to
               the
               Rich
               ,
               whose
               strength
               grows
               rude
               with
               case
               ;
            
             
               And
               would
               usurp
               ,
               did
               not
               their
               Rulers
               care
               ,
            
             
               With
               toile
               and
               tax
               their
               furious
               strength
               appease
               .
            
          
           
             
               21.
               
            
             
               There
               th'
               Aged
               walk
               ,
               whose
               needless
               carefulness
            
             
               Infects
               them
               past
               the
               Mindes
               best
               med'cin
               ,
               sleep
               ;
            
             
               There
               some
               to
               Temples
               early
               vows
               address
               ,
            
             
               And
               for
               th'ore
               busie
               world
               most
               wisely
               weep
               .
            
          
           
             
               22.
               
            
             
               To
               this
               vast
               Inn
               ,
               where
               Tydes
               of
               strangers
               flow
               ,
            
             
               The
               Morn
               and
               Hurgonil
               together
               came
               ;
            
             
               The
               Morn
               ,
               whose
               Dewy
               wings
               appear'd
               but
               slow
               ,
            
             
               When
               Men
               the
               motion
               mark'd
               of
               swifter
               Fame
               .
            
          
           
             
               23.
               
            
             
               For
               Fame
               (
               whose
               journeys
               are
               through
               waies
               unknown
               ,
            
             
               Tr●celess
               and
               swift
               ,
               and
               changing
               as
               the
               wind
               )
            
             
               The
               Morn
               and
               Hurgonil
               had
               much
               out-gone
               ,
            
             
               Whilst
               temp'rate
               Truth
               mov'd
               patiently
               behind
               .
            
          
           
             
               24
               ▪
            
             
               For
               some
               the
               Combat
               (
               to
               a
               Batail
               grown
               )
            
             
               Did
               apprehend
               in
               such
               prodigious
               shape
               ,
            
             
               As
               if
               their
               living
               to
               the
               Dead
               were
               gone
               ,
            
             
               And
               onely
               Fame
               did
               by
               her
               Wings
               escape
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               25.
               
            
             
               Some
               said
               this
               Hunting
               falsely
               was
               design'd
               ,
            
             
               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
               enlarg'd
               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
               rowling
               ore
               Heav'ns
               vault
               ,
            
             
               By
               murmure
               threatens
               ,
               ere
               it
               kills
               aloud
               ;
            
             
               So
               was
               this
               fatal
               news
               in
               whisper
               brought
               ,
            
             
               Which
               menac'd
               ,
               ere
               it
               struck
               the
               list'ning
               Croud
               .
            
          
           
             
               29.
               
            
             
               But
               Rumour
               soon
               to
               high
               extreams
               does
               move
               ,
            
             
               For
               first
               it
               Oswald
               nam'd
               with
               dreadfull
               voice
               ;
            
             
               Then
               said
               that
               Death
               had
               widow'd
               Truth
               and
               Love
               ,
            
             
               By
               making
               Gondibert
               the
               second
               choice
               .
            
          
           
             
               30.
               
            
             
               And
               to
               all
               hearts
               so
               dear
               was
               Gondibert
               ,
            
             
               So
               much
               did
               Pitie
               ,
               Oswald's
               Valour
               prise
               ,
            
             
               That
               strait
               their
               early
               bus'ness
               they
               desert
               ,
            
             
               And
               fix
               on
               wounded
               Hurgonil
               their
               Eyes
               .
            
          
           
             
               31.
               
            
             
               Him
               when
               by
               perfect
               day
               they
               sadly
               knew
               ,
            
             
               Through
               hiddē
               wounds
               ,
               whose
               blood
               his
               beauty
               stain'd
               ,
            
             
               Even
               from
               the
               Temples
               ,
               Angels
               soon
               withdrew
               ,
            
             
               So
               sawcely
               th'
               afflicted
               there
               complain'd
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               32.
               
            
             
               The
               People
               straight
               united
               clamour
               gave
               ,
            
             
               Shriek'd
               loud
               like
               Sea-men
               split
               on
               a
               strange
               Coast
               ;
            
             
               As
               if
               those
               Pow'rs
               were
               deaf
               who
               should
               them
               save
               ,
            
             
               And
               Pray'rs
               no
               louder
               than
               the
               winds
               were
               lost
               .
            
          
           
             
               33.
               
            
             
               Now
               ,
               with
               impatience
               urg'd
               ,
               he
               does
               declare
            
             
               Whom
               he
               so
               mournfully
               in
               Fun'ral
               brought
               ;
            
             
               The
               publick
               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
               forreign
               Fields
               they
               rais'd
               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
               devis'd
               ,
            
             
               Who
               gratefully
               a
               rev'rence
               teach
               to
               death
               ;
            
             
               Because
               they
               most
               by
               dying
               men
               are
               pris'd
               .
            
          
           
             
               36.
               
            
             
               But
               though
               our
               loss
               we
               justly
               may
               complain
               ,
            
             
               Though
               even
               by
               Priests
               authority
               we
               grieve
               ;
            
             
               Yet
               Heav'n's
               first
               bounty
               ,
               Life
               ,
               let
               none
               disdain
               ,
            
             
               Since
               Gondibert
               ,
               our
               chief
               Delight
               ,
               does
               live
               .
            
          
           
             
               37.
               
            
             
               Th●●eard
               ,
               as
               Sea-men
               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
               seem'd
               to
               be
            
             
               Retir'd
               to
               endless
               shades
               amongst
               the
               slain
               ,
            
             
               With
               silent
               grief
               they
               seem'd
               as
               dead
               as
               he
               ,
            
             
               But
               with
               new
               life
               welcom'd
               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
               publickly
               receave
            
             
               Those
               Bodies
               ,
               Death
               does
               not
               destroy
               ,
               but
               Hides
               ▪
            
          
           
             
               41.
               
            
             
               Then
               to
               his
               Palace
               he
               retires
               by
               stealth
               ,
            
             
               His
               wounds
               from
               his
               lov'd
               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
               straight
               the
               People
               bear
            
             
               The
               valiant
               Rivals
               ,
               who
               for
               love
               were
               slain
               ;
            
             
               Whom
               all
               he
               peacefull
               Priests
               behold
               with
               fear
               ,
            
             
               And
               griev'd
               such
               Guests
               they
               durst
               not
               entertain
               .
            
          
           
             
               43.
               
            
             
               For
               soon
               the
               Prior
               of
               their
               Brotherhood
            
             
               (
               Who
               long
               serv'd
               Heav'n
               with
               praise
               ,
               the
               world
               with
               pray'r
               )
            
             
               Cry'd
               out
               ,
               this
               holy
               House
               is
               shut
               to
               blood
               ,
            
             
               To
               all
               that
               die
               in
               combat
               or
               despair
               .
            
          
           
             
               44.
               
            
             
               These
               by
               their
               bloody
               marks
               in
               Compar
               dy'd
               ,
            
             
               Through
               anger
               ,
               the
               disease
               of
               Beasts
               untam'd
               ;
            
             
               Whose
               wrath
               is
               hunger
               ,
               but
               in
               Men
               't
               is
               pride
               ,
            
             
               Yet
               theirs
               is
               cruelty
               ,
               ours
               courage
               nam'd
               .
            
          
           
             
               45.
               
            
             
               Here
               the
               neglected
               Lord
               of
               peace
               does
               live
               ;
            
             
               Who
               taught
               the
               wrangling
               world
               the
               rules
               of
               love
               ,
            
             
               Should
               we
               his
               dwelling
               to
               the
               wrathfull
               give
               ,
            
             
               Our
               Sainted
               Dead
               would
               rise
               ,
               and
               he
               remove
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               46.
               
            
             
               Well
               by
               his
               precepts
               may
               we
               punish
               strife
               ,
            
             
               Whose
               pitie
               knew
               that
               Famine
               ,
               Plague
               ,
               and
               Time
               ,
            
             
               Are
               Enemies
               enough
               to
               humane
               life
               ,
            
             
               None
               need
               ore-charge
               Death's
               Quiver
               with
               a
               crime
               .
            
          
           
             
               47.
               
            
             
               To
               unfrequented
               Fields
               bear
               then
               your
               slain
               ,
            
             
               Where
               neither
               Dirge
               nor
               Requiem
               shall
               be
               giv'n
               ;
            
             
               To
               those
               who
               by
               usurp'd
               Revenge
               disdain
            
             
               To
               take
               from
               Men
               ,
               neglects
               they
               put
               on
               Heav'n
               .
            
          
           
             
               48.
               
            
             
               But
               now
               the
               People's
               passions
               run
               too
               far
               ;
            
             
               Their
               untaught
               love
               ,
               artless
               extreams
               does
               wed
               ;
            
             
               Of
               times
               they
               like
               the
               past
               ,
               and
               since
               they
               are
            
             
               Opprest
               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
               chuse
            
             
               An
               Oratour
               ,
               of
               rude
               ,
               but
               ready
               Tongue
               :
            
          
           
             
               50.
               
            
             
               Who
               at
               the
               Temple
               Gate
               thus
               pleads
               aloud
               !
            
             
               We
               know
               ,
               though
               Priests
               are
               Pensioners
               of
               Heav'n
               ,
            
             
               Your
               Flock
               which
               yields
               best
               rent
               ,
               is
               this
               dull
               Croud
               ;
            
             
               The
               learn'd
               examine
               why
               their
               Fleece
               is
               giv'n
               .
            
          
           
             
               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
               Learn'd
               as
               Spies
               resort
               .
            
          
           
             
               52.
               
            
             
               Temples
               are
               yours
               ,
               not
               God's
               lov'd
               Palaces
               ,
            
             
               Where
               Off'rings
               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
               Heav'n
               could
               send
               so
               large
               a
               Train
               .
            
          
           
             
               54.
               
            
             
               But
               being
               all
               Ambassadours
               from
               thence
               ,
            
             
               The
               growing
               charge
               will
               soon
               exceed
               our
               rent
               ,
            
             
               Unless
               you
               please
               to
               treat
               at
               his
               expence
            
             
               Who
               sent
               you
               ;
               not
               at
               ours
               ,
               where
               you
               are
               sent
               .
            
          
           
             
               55.
               
            
             
               The
               ancient
               Laws
               liv'd
               in
               the
               Peoples
               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
               strait
               the
               peacefull
               Fathers
               strives
               to
               gain
               ,
            
             
               And
               thus
               the
               Peoples
               Oratour
               reclaim
               .
            
          
           
             
               57.
               
            
             
               Most
               usefull
               Fathers
               !
               some
               trace
               secret
               things
            
             
               Even
               to
               his
               Closet
               ,
               who
               is
               hid
               in
               Heav'n
               ;
            
             
               Vainly
               as
               Nilus
               to
               his
               hidden
               springs
               ,
            
             
               And
               not
               enjoy
               ,
               but
               censure
               what
               is
               giv'n
               .
            
          
           
             
               58.
               
            
             
               You
               with
               such
               temper
               their
               intemp'rance
               bear
               ,
            
             
               To
               shew
               your
               solid
               science
               does
               rely
            
             
               So
               on
               it self
               ,
               as
               you
               no
               trial
               fear
               ;
            
             
               For
               Arts
               are
               weak
               that
               are
               of
               Scepticks
               shie
               .
            
          
           
             
               59.
               
            
             
               Though
               in
               your
               Office
               humane
               safety
               lies
               ,
            
             
               Which
               opes
               that
               Hell
               the
               vicious
               vulgar
               fear
               ,
            
             
               Yet
               never
               can
               the
               People
               Priesthood
               prise
               ;
            
             
               As
               if
               from
               Heav'n
               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
               Pastur'd
               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
               doubtfull
               still
            
             
               As
               those
               of
               old
               ;
               yet
               more
               reward
               is
               due
            
             
               To
               pains
               ,
               where
               so
               uneasie
               is
               the
               skill
               .
            
          
           
             
               63.
               
            
             
               Or
               if
               no
               skill
               they
               think
               it
               ,
               but
               suppose
            
             
               'T
               is
               Faith
               (
               &
               Faith
               ne'r
               thinks
               Heav'n's
               height
               too
               high
            
             
               Yet
               Faith
               's
               so
               sev'ral
               be
               ,
               that
               few
               are
               those
            
             
               Can
               chuse
               right
               wings
               ,
               when
               they
               to
               Heav'n
               would
               flie
               .
            
          
           
             
               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
               design'd
               ,
            
             
               'T
               is
               safe
               by
               all
               the
               study'd
               Guides
               to
               go
               ;
            
             
               Lest
               we
               in
               death
               ,
               too
               late
               ,
               the
               knowledge
               find
            
             
               Of
               what
               in
               life
               't
               was
               possible
               to
               know
               .
            
          
           
             
               66.
               
            
             
               Your
               Pomp
               ,
               by
               which
               your
               Pow'r
               in
               count'nance
               dures
               ,
            
             
               Though
               costly
               ,
               costs
               much
               less
               than
               Camps
               or
               Laws
               ;
            
             
               And
               more
               than
               both
               ,
               Religion
               us
               secures
               ;
            
             
               Since
               Hell
               (
               your
               Prison
               )
               more
               than
               dying
               aws
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               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
               frightfull
               Law
               sets
               hers
               ;
               nor
               bloody
               seems
            
             
               Like
               War
               in
               Colours
               spred
               ,
               yet
               secretly
            
             
               She
               does
               her
               work
               ,
               and
               many
               a
               Man
               condemns
               .
            
          
           
             
               69.
               
            
             
               Chokes
               in
               the
               seed
               ,
               what
               Law
               ,
               till
               ripe
               ,
               ne'r
               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
               Tenures
               ,
               which
               long
               pleadings
               trie
               ,
            
             
               Authentick
               grow
               by
               being
               much
               withstood
               .
            
          
           
             
               71.
               
            
             
               These
               Chiefs
               ,
               for
               whom
               we
               holy
               Rites
               desire
               ,
            
             
               By
               well
               fought
               Fields
               begot
               this
               Cities
               peace
               ;
            
             
               Oft
               with
               their
               blood
               have
               quench'd
               intestine
               fire
               ;
            
             
               And
               oft
               our
               famines
               chang'd
               to
               glad
               excess
               .
            
          
           
             
               72.
               
            
             
               Their
               Rites
               let
               not
               the
               people
               be
               de●iy'd
               ,
            
             
               Though
               by
               untutor'd
               kindness
               rudely
               fought
               ;
            
             
               Nor
               think
               they
               have
               in
               private
               Comba●
               dy'd
               ,
            
             
               Where
               Gondibert
               and
               mighty
               Oswald
               fought
               .
            
          
           
             
               73.
               
            
             
               Both
               Princes
               of
               the
               Lombards
               royal
               blood
               ;
            
             
               For
               whom
               full
               Thrice
               Three
               Hundred
               number'd
               are
               ,
            
             
               Whose
               anger
               strove
               to
               make
               their
               anger
               good
               ;
            
             
               Number
               gives
               strife
               th'authentick
               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
               strait
               ,
            
             
               And
               sacred
               Rites
               of
               Fun'ral
               they
               provide
               .
            
          
           
             
               75.
               
            
             
               How
               vain
               is
               Custom
               ,
               and
               how
               guilty
               Pow'r
               ?
            
             
               Slaughter
               is
               lawfull
               made
               by
               the
               excess
               ;
            
             
               Earth's
               partial
               Laws
               ,
               just
               Heav'n
               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
                 enlarg'd
                 ,
                 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
               Peoples
               Region
               )
               early
               Fame
            
             
               First
               brought
               this
               grief
               ,
               which
               all
               more
               tragick
               make
               ;
            
             
               And
               next
               ,
               to
               the
               triumphant
               Court
               she
               came
               ,
            
             
               Where
               prosp'rous
               Pow'r
               sleeps
               long
               ,
               though
               Sutors
               wake
               ;
            
          
           
             
               2.
               
            
             
               But
               yet
               the
               early
               King
               (
               from
               Childhood
               bred
            
             
               To
               dangers
               ,
               toyls
               ,
               and
               courser
               wants
               of
               war
               )
            
             
               Rose
               up
               to
               rule
               ,
               and
               left
               soft
               Love
               in
               bed
               ,
            
             
               Could
               conquer
               Lands
               and
               Love
               ,
               but
               stoopt
               to
               Care.
               
            
          
           
             
             
               3.
               
            
             
               Care
               ,
               that
               in
               Cloysters
               onely
               seals
               her
               Eies
               ,
            
             
               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
               gain'd
               ,
            
             
               And
               is
               more
               sure
               to
               him
               than
               Realms
               intail'd
               ;
            
             
               Wak'd
               him
               to
               know
               why
               Rumor
               thus
               complain'd
               ,
            
             
               Or
               who
               in
               battail
               bled
               ,
               or
               who
               prevail'd
               ?
            
          
           
             
               5.
               
            
             
               Young
               Hurgonil
               (
               who
               does
               his
               wounds
               conceal
               ,
            
             
               Yet
               knew
               it
               did
               his
               dutious
               care
               import
            
             
               That
               some
               just
               witness
               should
               his
               cause
               reveal
               )
            
             
               Sent
               Tybalt
               to
               appease
               ,
               and
               tast
               the
               Court.
               
            
          
           
             
               6.
               
            
             
               To
               that
               proud
               Palace
               which
               once
               low
               did
               lie
            
             
               In
               Parian
               Quarries
               ,
               now
               on
               Columes
               stands
               :
            
             
               Ionique
               Props
               that
               bear
               their
               Arches
               high
               ,
            
             
               Which
               conquer'd
               treasure
               rais'd
               with
               Tuscan
               Hands
               .
            
          
           
             
               7.
               
            
             
               So
               vast
               of
               heighth
               ,
               to
               which
               such
               space
               did
               fit
            
             
               As
               if
               it
               were
               o're-cyz'd
               for
               Modern
               Men
               ;
            
             
               The
               ancient
               Giants
               might
               inhabit
               it
               ;
            
             
               And
               there
               walk
               free
               as
               winds
               that
               pass
               unseen
               ,
            
          
           
             
               8.
               
            
             
               The
               Monarch's
               wealth
               this
               shew'd
               in
               all
               the
               parts
               ;
            
             
               But
               the
               attendant
               Guards
               denote
               him
               wise
               ;
            
             
               Who
               on
               the
               weather
               of
               his
               Peoples
               hearts
               ,
            
             
               For
               a
               short
               Course
               ,
               not
               voyages
               ,
               relies
               .
            
          
           
             
               9.
               
            
             
               Through
               many
               Guards
               (
               all
               watchful
               ,
               calm
               ,
               and
               bold
               )
            
             
               Tybalt
               did
               pass
               the
               first
               magnifick
               Square
               ;
            
             
               And
               through
               ascents
               does
               enter
               to
               behold
               ,
            
             
               Where
               the
               States
               Head
               and
               Eies
               assembled
               are
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               10.
               
            
             
               There
               sa●
               the
               King
               ,
               on
               whose
               consid'rate
               Brow
            
             
               Sixtie
               experienc'd
               Summers
               he
               discern'd
               ,
            
             
               Which
               made
               him
               ripe
               ,
               and
               all
               of
               Conduct
               know
            
             
               That
               from
               success
               is
               own'd
               ,
               from
               losses
               learn'd
               .
            
          
           
             
               11.
               
            
             
               Near
               him
               the
               Empire
               's
               strict
               Surveyors
               sate
               ;
            
             
               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
               preferr'd
               to
               Councels
               place
               ;
            
             
               For
               Counsel
               is
               for
               use
               ,
               not
               ornament
               ;
            
             
               Souls
               are
               alike
               ,
               of
               rich
               and
               ancient
               Race
               ;
            
             
               Though
               Bodies
               claim
               distinctions
               by
               descent
               .
            
          
           
             
               13.
               
            
             
               Here
               boyling
               Youth
               ,
               nor
               frozen
               Age
               can
               sit
               :
            
             
               It
               would
               in
               Subjects
               scorn
               of
               ruling
               Breed
               ,
            
             
               If
               that
               great
               work
               should
               such
               small
               ayds
               admit
               ,
            
             
               And
               make
               them
               hope
               that
               they
               no
               rulers
               need
               .
            
          
           
             
               14.
               
            
             
               Nature
               too
               oft
               by
               birth-right
               does
               prefer
            
             
               Less
               perfect
               Monarchs
               to
               a
               busie
               Throne
               ;
            
             
               Yet
               more
               than
               her
               ,
               Courts
               by
               weak
               Counc'lers
               err
               ,
            
             
               In
               adding
               Cyphers
               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
               kindl'd
               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
               Conquer'd
               with
               the
               Victor's
               Baies
               ,
            
             
               When
               Manhood
               bids
               him
               do
               their
               valour
               right
               :
            
          
           
             
             
               17.
               
            
             
               At
               last
               recounts
               the
               wounded
               and
               the
               slain
               ;
            
             
               And
               how
               Prince
               Hubert
               and
               the
               Duke
               retir'd
               ;
            
             
               From
               nothing
               brave
               or
               great
               he
               did
               refrain
               ,
            
             
               But
               his
               own
               deeds
               ,
               which
               doing
               were
               admir'd
               .
            
          
           
             
               18.
               
            
             
               This
               Arribert
               with
               outward
               patience
               hears
               ,
            
             
               Though
               wounded
               by
               the
               cause
               for
               which
               they
               fought
               ;
            
             
               With
               mod'rate
               joy
               the
               death
               of
               Oswald
               bears
               ;
            
             
               Yet
               justly
               to
               extreams
               it
               inward
               wrought
               .
            
          
           
             
               19.
               
            
             
               Tybalt
               he
               now
               with
               peacefull
               looks
               discharg'd
               ;
            
             
               And
               then
               his
               thoughts
               (
               imprison'd
               in
               his
               breast
               )
            
             
               He
               straight
               by
               libertie
               of
               Tongue
               inlarg'd
               ;
            
             
               Which
               thus
               unto
               his
               Councel
               he
               addrest
               .
            
          
           
             
               20.
               
            
             
               With
               what
               a
               diff'rence
               Nature's
               pallate
               tasts
            
             
               The
               sweetest
               draught
               which
               Art
               provides
               her
               ,
               Pow'r
               :
            
             
               Since
               Pow'r
               ,
               Pride's
               Wine
               ,
               but
               high
               in
               relish
               last
            
             
               Whilst
               fuming
               new
               ,
               for
               Time
               does
               turn
               it
               sow'r
               ?
            
          
           
             
               21.
               
            
             
               Yet
               Pow'r
               ,
               Earth's
               tempting
               Fruit
               ,
               Heav'n
               first
               did
               plant
            
             
               From
               Mans
               first
               Serpent
               safe
               ,
               Ambition's
               reach
               ;
            
             
               Else
               Eden
               could
               not
               serve
               Ambition's
               want
               ;
            
             
               Whom
               no
               command
               can
               rule
               ,
               nor
               precept
               teach
               .
            
          
           
             
               22.
               
            
             
               Pow'r
               is
               that
               luscious
               wine
               ,
               which
               does
               the
               bold
               ,
            
             
               The
               wise
               ,
               and
               noble
               most
               Intoxicate
               ;
            
             
               Ads
               time
               to
               Youth
               ,
               and
               takes
               it
               from
               the
               Old
               ;
            
             
               Yet
               I
               by
               surfeit
               this
               Elixer
               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
               Iuxurious
               pow'r
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               24.
               
            
             
               Thou
               Hermegild
               ,
               who
               art
               for
               valour
               Crown'd
               ,
            
             
               For
               honour
               trusted
               ,
               and
               for
               wisdom
               heard
               ;
            
             
               And
               you
               whom
               Counsel
               has
               no
               less
               renown'd
               ,
            
             
               Observe
               how
               virtue
               against
               peace
               has
               err'd
               .
            
          
           
             
               25.
               
            
             
               Still
               I
               have
               fought
               ,
               as
               if
               in
               Beauty's
               sight
               ,
            
             
               Out-suffer'd
               patience
               ,
               bred
               in
               Captives
               Breasts
               ;
            
             
               Taught
               fasts
               ,
               till
               Bodies
               like
               our
               Souls
               grew
               light
               ;
            
             
               Out-watch'd
               the
               jealous
               ,
               and
               out-labour'd
               Beas●●
               .
            
          
           
             
               26.
               
            
             
               These
               were
               my
               merits
               ,
               my
               reward
               is
               Pow'r
               ;
            
             
               An
               outward
               Trifle
               ,
               bought
               with
               inward
               peace
               ;
            
             
               Got
               in
               an
               Age
               ,
               and
               rifled
               in
               an
               hour
               ;
            
             
               When
               feav'rish
               love
               ,
               the
               People's
               Fit
               ,
               shall
               cease
               .
            
          
           
             
               27.
               
            
             
               For
               did
               not
               Pow'r
               on
               their
               frail
               love
               depend
               ,
            
             
               Prince
               Oswald
               had
               not
               treated
               with
               that
               love
               ;
            
             
               Whose
               glory
               did
               in
               hastie
               darkness
               end
               ;
            
             
               A
               spark
               which
               vanish'd
               ,
               as
               it
               upward
               strove
               .
            
          
           
             
               28.
               
            
             
               By
               scorn
               of
               dangers
               and
               of
               ease
               ,
               he
               sought
               ▪
            
             
               The
               Lombards
               hearts
               ,
               my
               Rhodalind
               ,
               and
               Crown
               ;
            
             
               And
               much
               his
               youth
               had
               by
               his
               practice
               wrought
               ,
            
             
               Had
               Gondibert
               not
               levell'd
               his
               renown
               :
            
          
           
             
               29.
               
            
             
               Had
               Gondibert
               not
               staid
               the
               Peoples
               Eyes
            
             
               (
               Whose
               virtue
               stept
               'twixt
               Oswald
               and
               their
               sight
               )
            
             
               Who
               knows
               but
               Rhodalind
               had
               been
               his
               Prise
               ,
            
             
               Or
               war
               must
               have
               secur'd
               Paternal
               right
               .
            
          
           
             
               30.
               
            
             
               Sad
               and
               uneasie
               is
               a
               long-kept
               Throne
               ;
            
             
               Not
               that
               the
               People
               think
               long
               pow'r
               unjust
               ,
            
             
               But
               that
               for
               change
               ,
               they
               wish
               best
               Monarchs
               gone
               ;
            
             
               Fond
               change
               ,
               the
               People's
               soon
               repented
               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
               unstudy'd
               choice
               would
               more
               approve
               .
            
          
           
             
               32.
               
            
             
               To
               thee
               sage
               Hermegild
               my self
               I
               leave
               ,
            
             
               My
               fame
               and
               pow'r
               :
               Thee
               action
               cannot
               waste
               ;
            
             
               Caution
               retard
               ,
               nor
               promptitude
               deceave
               ;
            
             
               Slowness
               belate
               ,
               nor
               Hope
               drive
               on
               too
               fast
               .
            
          
           
             
               33.
               
            
             
               Think
               Hubert
               Heir
               to
               Oswald's
               bold
               pretence
               ;
            
             
               To
               whom
               the
               Camp
               at
               Brescia
               is
               inclin'd
               ;
            
             
               The
               Duke
               at
               Bergamo
               will
               seek
               defence
               ;
            
             
               And
               these
               are
               seeds
               of
               war
               for
               Rhodalind
               .
            
          
           
             
               34.
               
            
             
               This
               said
               ,
               his
               Councel
               he
               dismiss'd
               ,
               who
               spy'd
            
             
               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
               sev'ral
               Cares
               ,
               some
               to
               allay
            
             
               Court's
               hectick
               Feaver
               ,
               Faction
               (
               which
               does
               reign
            
             
               Where
               Luxury
               ,
               the
               Syre
               of
               Want
               ,
               does
               sway
               )
            
             
               Some
               to
               appease
               th'
               Alliance
               of
               the
               slain
               .
            
          
           
             
               36.
               
            
             
               But
               Order
               now
               bids
               us
               again
               pursue
            
             
               Th'
               unweary'd
               Motion
               of
               unhappie
               Fame
               ;
            
             
               From
               Fields
               to
               Streets
               ,
               from
               Streets
               to
               Court
               she
               flew
               ;
            
             
               Where
               first
               she
               to
               the
               Kings
               Apartment
               came
               .
            
          
           
             
               37.
               
            
             
               Thence
               through
               the
               Palace
               she
               her
               wings
               did
               air
               ;
            
             
               And
               as
               her
               Wings
               ,
               her
               Tongue
               too
               never
               ceas'd
               ;
            
             
               Like
               restless
               Swallows
               in
               an
               Evening
               fair
               :
            
             
               At
               last
               does
               on
               a
               peacefull
               dwelling
               rest
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               38.
               
            
             
               Where
               Sleep
               does
               yet
               that
               gentle
               Sex
               possess
               ,
            
             
               Who
               ne'r
               should
               more
               of
               Care
               's
               rude
               wakings
               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
               publick
               pin'd
            
             
               For
               Hurgonil
               ,
               the
               Monarch
               of
               her
               heart
               .
            
          
           
             
               40.
               
            
             
               And
               there
               the
               killing
               Laura
               did
               reside
               ;
            
             
               See
               ,
               of
               whose
               Eyes
               the
               Lombard
               Youth
               Complain
               ;
            
             
               Yet
               often
               she
               for
               noble
               Arnold
               di'd
               ;
            
             
               And
               knew
               not
               now
               her
               Murderer
               was
               slain
               .
            
          
           
             
               41.
               
            
             
               Nor
               Hugo
               ,
               who
               was
               all
               with
               love
               indu'd
               ;
            
             
               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
               conceal'd
               within
               there
               Curtains
               shade
               ;
            
             
               Till
               rudely
               Fame
               ,
               by
               shaking
               loud
               her
               wings
            
             
               Disturb'd
               their
               Eyes
               ,
               and
               their
               wak'd
               hearts
               dismay'd
               .
            
          
           
             
               43.
               
            
             
               They
               heard
               in
               parcels
               by
               imperfect
               sound
               ,
            
             
               A
               tale
               too
               dismal
               to
               be
               understood
               ;
            
             
               That
               all
               their
               Lovers
               lay
               in
               hallow'd
               ground
               ;
            
             
               Temples
               their
               Bodies
               hid
               ,
               the
               Fields
               their
               bloud
               .
            
          
           
             
               44.
               
            
             
               That
               this
               dire
               Morn
               to
               sad
               Verona
               brought
            
             
               The
               Duke
               and
               Oswald
               ,
               of
               lov'd
               life
               depriv'd
               ;
            
             
               And
               that
               of
               all
               who
               their
               fierce
               battel
               fought
               ,
            
             
               Onely
               the
               mangled
               Hurgonil
               surviv'd
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               45.
               
            
             
               This
               Tale
               ,
               Fam's
               course
               ,
               officious
               Friends
               convey'd
               ,
            
             
               (
               Which
               are
               attendant
               Slaves
               ,
               and
               Palace
               Grooms
               )
            
             
               Who
               by
               the
               Lover
               of
               some
               busie
               Maid
               ,
            
             
               From
               outward
               Courts
               sent
               it
               to
               inward
               Rooms
               .
            
          
           
             
               46.
               
            
             
               Such
               horrour
               brought
               ,
               where
               love
               had
               onely
               us'd
               ,
            
             
               Did
               yet
               breed
               more
               amazement
               than
               belief
               ;
            
             
               Whilst
               Orna
               now
               ,
               and
               Laura
               flie
               confus'd
            
             
               To
               R●odalind
               ,
               Truth
               's
               Altar
               ,
               for
               relief
               .
            
          
           
             
               47.
               
            
             
               There
               with
               disorder'd
               voyces
               they
               compare
               ,
            
             
               And
               then
               derive
               what
               each
               has
               loosly
               learn'd
               ;
            
             
               Each
               hope
               applies
               ,
               where
               others
               most
               despair
               ;
            
             
               As
               doubting
               all
               but
               where
               her self's
               concern'd
               .
            
          
           
             
               48.
               
            
             
               This
               weeping
               conf'rence
               had
               not
               lasted
               long
               ,
            
             
               When
               Tybalt
               ,
               free
               from
               Aribert's
               commands
               ,
            
             
               Scapes
               the
               assembling
               Court
               's
               inquiring
               Throng
               ,
            
             
               And
               enters
               here
               ;
               where
               first
               he
               doubtfull
               stands
               .
            
          
           
             
               49.
               
            
             
               For
               Pitie
               ,
               when
               he
               ruin'd
               Laura
               spi'de
               .
            
             
               Bids
               his
               discretion
               artfully
               complain
               ;
            
             
               And
               shew
               far
               off
               ,
               what
               Truth
               not
               long
               can
               hide
               :
            
             
               Death
               at
               a
               distance
               seen
               ,
               may
               ease
               fears
               pain
               .
            
          
           
             
               50.
               
            
             
               Their
               bus'ness
               now
               he
               can
               no
               more
               forbear
               ;
            
             
               For
               who
               on
               their
               urg'd
               patience
               can
               prevail
               ,
            
             
               Whose
               expectation
               is
               provok'd
               with
               fear
               ?
            
             
               He
               therefore
               thus
               their
               patience
               did
               assail
               .
            
          
           
             
               51.
               
            
             
               Kind
               Heav'n
               that
               gave
               you
               virtue
               ,
               give
               you
               peace
               ;
            
             
               Delightfull
               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
               beautie
               was
               chaste
               Honours
               Merchandice
               ;
            
             
               When
               Valor
               was
               chief
               Factor
               in
               Love's
               State
               ;
            
             
               Danger
               ,
               Love's
               stamp
               ,
               and
               Beautie
               's
               currant
               price
               .
            
          
           
             
               53.
               
            
             
               Renown'd
               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
               justifi'd
               her
               choice
               ,
            
             
               And
               might
               alone
               Fame's
               publick
               Trumpet
               fill
               .
            
          
           
             
               55.
               
            
             
               Enlarg'd
               be
               Honor's
               Throne
               ,
               that
               Arnold
               there
            
             
               And
               Hugo
               may
               for
               ever
               sit
               and
               rest
               ,
            
             
               Free
               from
               their
               Valor
               's
               toyls
               ,
               and
               Laura's
               fear
               ;
            
             
               Which
               more
               than
               wounds
               disorder'd
               eithers
               Breast
               .
            
          
           
             
               56.
               
            
             
               This
               said
               ,
               he
               paws'd
               ;
               finds
               each
               distrusts
               his
               art
               ;
            
             
               For
               Hope
               and
               Doubt
               came
               and
               return'd
               apace
               ,
            
             
               In
               chang'd
               Complexion
               from
               th'
               uncertain
               heart
               ,
            
             
               Like
               frighted
               Scowts
               for
               Tidings
               to
               the
               Face
               .
            
          
           
             
               57.
               
            
             
               His
               Eie
               seem'd
               most
               imploy'd
               on
               Rhodalind
               ;
            
             
               Whose
               love
               above
               her
               bashful
               caution
               sways
               ;
            
             
               For
               naming
               Gondibert
               ,
               he
               soon
               did
               find
               ,
            
             
               Her
               secret
               Soul
               shew'd
               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
               darkned
               what
               was
               past
               ;
            
             
               Thus
               Truth
               through
               all
               her
               mourning
               Vails
               she
               sought
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               59.
               
            
             
               Why
               in
               these
               Ladies
               do
               you
               lengthen
               pain
               ,
            
             
               By
               giving
               them
               Grief
               's
               common
               med'cin
               ,
               Doubt
               ?
            
             
               Ease
               those
               with
               death
               ,
               whose
               Lovers
               now
               are
               slain
               ;
            
             
               Life's
               fire
               a
               Feaver
               is
               ,
               when
               Love's
               is
               out
               .
            
          
           
             
               60.
               
            
             
               Yet
               think
               not
               that
               my
               cares
               peculiar
               are
               ;
            
             
               Perhaps
               I
               from
               religious
               pitie
               learn'd
               ,
            
             
               In
               Virtue
               's
               publick
               loss
               to
               take
               some
               share
               ;
            
             
               For
               there
               ,
               all
               but
               the
               vicious
               are
               concern'd
               .
            
          
           
             
               61.
               
            
             
               Your
               Prudence
               ,
               Royal
               Maid
               (
               he
               straight
               replies
               )
            
             
               More
               than
               your
               birth
               ,
               may
               claim
               the
               Lombards
               Crown
               ;
            
             
               Who'ere
               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
               mist
               the
               Prize
               .
            
          
           
             
               63.
               
            
             
               But
               happier
               Gondibert
               ,
               who
               does
               survive
            
             
               To
               beg
               your
               Mercy
               ,
               that
               he
               thus
               hath
               dar'd
            
             
               To
               own
               that
               cause
               ,
               for
               which
               the
               world
               might
               strive
               ;
            
             
               And
               conq'ring
               ,
               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
               live●t
               '
               enjoy
               the
               pleasure
               of
               applause
               .
            
          
           
             
               65.
               
            
             
               To
               say
               ,
               how
               Hugo
               and
               Lord
               Arnold
               strove
            
             
               For
               victory
               ,
               and
               mention
               their
               event
               ,
            
             
               Were
               to
               provide
               such
               fun'ral
               rites
               for
               Love
               ,
            
             
               As
               Death
               would
               be
               closs
               Mourner
               ,
               and
               repent
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               66.
               
            
             
               Now
               Laura's
               blood
               back
               to
               her
               liv●●
               fled
               ;
            
             
               True
               Beautie
               's
               Mint
               :
               For
               by
               her
               Heart
               L●ve's
               Throne
               ,
            
             
               Beautie
               's
               call'd
               in
               ,
               like
               Coyn
               ,
               when
               Kings
               are
               dead
            
             
               As
               if
               not
               currant
               ,
               now
               her
               Lover's
               gone
               .
            
          
           
             
               67.
               
            
             
               And
               like
               her
               beauty
               ,
               she
               had
               darkned
               life
               ▪
            
             
               But
               that
               with
               sprinkled
               water
               they
               restore
               ▪
            
             
               (
               By
               sudden
               cold
               ,
               with
               sudden
               heat
               a●strife
               )
            
             
               Her
               spirits
               to
               those
               walks
               they
               us'd
               before
               .
            
          
           
             
               68.
               
            
             
               She
               Arnold
               calls
               ,
               then
               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
               chaf'd
               ,
               and
               straight
               prepare
            
             
               Hot
               Eastern
               Fumes
               to
               reach
               her
               Brains
               cool'd
               sence
               ▪
            
             
               With
               Wine
               's
               ●●erce
               spirits
               these
               extracted
               are
               ,
            
             
               Which
               warm
               but
               slowly
               ,
               though
               of
               swift
               expence
               .
            
          
           
             
               70.
               
            
             
               Yet
               now
               again
               she
               breath'd
               Lord
               Arnold's
               name
               ,
            
             
               Which
               her
               apt
               Tongue
               through
               custom
               best
               exprest
               ;
            
             
               Then
               to
               stay
               Life
               ,
               that
               so
               unwilling
               came
               ,
            
             
               With
               Cordial
               Epithems
               they
               bath'd
               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
               pity'd
               Laura
               gone
               ,
            
             
               But
               Oswald's
               sister
               ,
               Gartha
               the
               renown'd
               ▪
            
             
               Enters
               ,
               as
               if
               the
               world
               were
               overthrown
               ,
            
             
               Or
               in
               the
               tears
               of
               the
               afflicted
               drown'd
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               73.
               
            
             
               Unconquer'd
               as
               her
               beauty
               was
               her
               mind
               ;
            
             
               Which
               wanted
               not
               a
               spark
               of
               Oswald's
               fire
               ▪
            
             
               Ambition
               lov'd
               ,
               but
               ne'r
               to
               Love
               was
               kind
               ▪
            
             
               Vex'd
               Thrones
               did
               more
               than
               quiet
               shades
               desire
               .
            
          
           
             
               74.
               
            
             
               Her
               Garments
               now
               in
               loose
               neglect
               she
               wore
               ,
            
             
               As
               sured
               to
               her
               wild
               dis-shevell'd
               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
               leasure
               for
               a
               Tear
            
             
               To
               quench
               (
               ere
               he
               thus
               spake
               )
               her
               passions
               flame
               .
            
          
           
             
               76.
               
            
             
               Blasted
               be
               all
               your
               beauties
               Rhodalind
               ,
            
             
               Till
               you
               a
               shame
               ,
               and
               terrour
               be
               to
               light
               ;
            
             
               Unwing'd
               be
               Love
               ,
               and
               slow
               as
               he
               is
               blind
               ,
            
             
               Who
               with
               your
               Looks
               poyson'd
               my
               Brothers
               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
               Pow'rs
               consumption
               be
               his
               long
               disease
               ,
            
             
               (
               Heav'ns
               vexing
               curb
               ,
               which
               makes
               wild
               Monarchs
               ●am
               )
            
             
               And
               be
               he
               forc'd
               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
               publick
               scorn
               !
            
             
               May
               Gondibert
               ,
               who
               is
               your
               glory
               ,
               move
            
             
               Your
               pitie
               ,
               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
               vanquish'd
               ,
               live
               to
               see
            
             
               Your
               Victor
               with
               his
               victory
               undone
               !
            
          
           
             
               81.
               
            
             
               This
               said
               ,
               she
               mounts
               (
               with
               a
               tempestuous
               Brow
               )
            
             
               The
               Chariot
               her
               Calabrian
               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
               design'd
               ;
            
             
               And
               bids
               her
               Tuscan
               Cha●●ioter
               drive
               on
               ,
            
             
               As
               if
               his
               Steeds
               were
               dieted
               with
               wind
               !
            
             
               Slow
               seems
               their
               speed
               whose
               thoughts
               before
               them
               〈◊〉
            
          
           
             
               83.
               
            
             
               The
               pav'd
               Streets
               kindle
               with
               her
               Chariot
               wheels
               !
            
             
               The
               Omen
               of
               wars
               fire
               the
               Citie
               spies
               ,
            
             
               Which
               with
               those
               sparks
               struck
               by
               her
               Coursers
               heels
               ,
            
             
               Shine
               not
               so
               much
               as
               rage
               does
               in
               her
               Eyes
               .
            
          
           
             
               84.
               
            
             
               Those
               that
               observ'd
               her
               anger
               ,
               grief
               ,
               and
               haste
               ,
            
             
               With
               ancient
               Roman
               melancholy
               mourn
               ;
            
             
               She
               seem'd
               their
               Cities
               Genius
               as
               she
               pass'd
               ,
            
             
               Who
               by
               their
               Sins
               expell'd
               ,
               would
               ne'r
               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
               sence
               is
               felt
               .
            
          
           
             
               86.
               
            
             
               And
               Rhodalind
               her
               fatal
               love
               does
               blame
               ,
            
             
               Because
               she
               finds
               it
               now
               by
               Gartha
               spy'd
               ;
            
             
               And
               does
               lament
               Love's
               fire
               ,
               which
               bashfull
               shame
            
             
               Cannotreveal
               ,
               nor
               her
               discretion
               hide
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               87.
               
            
             
               She
               would
               not
               have
               it
               waste
               ,
               nor
               publick
               grow
               ,
            
             
               But
               last
               conceal'd
               like
               that
               in
               Tullia's
               Urn
               ;
            
             
               Or
               that
               which
               prosp'rous
               Chymists
               nicely
               show
               ;
            
             
               Which
               as
               it
               thrives
               ,
               must
               more
               in
               private
               burn
               .
            
          
           
             
               88.
               
            
             
               Yet
               straight
               (
               grown
               valiant
               with
               her
               Victors
               fate
               )
            
             
               She
               would
               have
               Hymen
               hold
               his
               Torches
               high
               ;
            
             
               And
               Love's
               fire
               priz'd
               ,
               as
               Vestals
               theirs
               did
               rate
               ;
            
             
               Which
               none
               durst
               quench
               ,
               though
               free
               to
               ev'ry
               eye
               .
            
          
           
             
               89.
               
            
             
               Resolves
               her
               love
               whilst
               this
               new
               valour
               lasts
               ,
            
             
               Shall
               undisguis'd
               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
               direfull
               sorrows
               brought
               ,
            
             
               Since
               to
               the
               King
               he
               onely
               was
               employ'd
               ?
            
          
           
             
               91.
               
            
             
               But
               these
               are
               Ridles
               of
               mysterious
               Love
               !
            
             
               Tybalt
               in
               private
               long
               for
               Laura
               pin'd
               ;
            
             
               And
               try'd
               how
               Arnold
               would
               her
               passion
               move
            
             
               In
               death
               ,
               who
               living
               ever
               fill'd
               her
               mind
               ?
            
          
           
             
               92.
               
            
             
               And
               by
               this
               trial
               how
               she
               Arnold
               us'd
               ,
            
             
               He
               gravely
               meant
               to
               urge
               or
               stay
               his
               heart
               ;
            
             
               But
               much
               by
               Love
               the
               Cautions
               are
               abus'd
               ,
            
             
               Who
               his
               wild
               Ridles
               would
               reduce
               to
               Art.
               
            
          
        
         
           
           
             CANTO
             the
             Third
             .
          
           
             
               The
               ARGUMENT
               .
            
             
               
                 Dead
                 OSWALD
                 to
                 his
                 Camp
                 by
                 HUBERT
                 brought
                 ;
              
               
                 The
                 Camp
                 from
                 pitie
                 ,
                 are
                 to
                 furie
                 wrought
                 ;
              
               
                 Yet
                 find
                 ,
                 when
                 GARTHA's
                 looks
                 does
                 them
                 surprise
                 ,
              
               
                 Their
                 forward
                 Hands
                 diverted
                 by
                 their
                 Eyes
                 :
              
               
                 Till
                 with
                 her
                 voice
                 new
                 urg'd
                 ,
                 they
                 deeds
                 pursue
              
               
                 Which
                 ever
                 Revenge
                 would
                 ,
                 had
                 it
                 Eyes
                 ,
                 eschew
                 .
              
            
          
           
             
               1.
               
            
             
               WHen
               from
               the
               fatal
               Forrest
               Hubert
               rode
               ,
            
             
               To
               Brescia
               he
               and
               Borgie
               bent
               their
               way
               ;
            
             
               That
               their
               ,
               though
               dead
               ,
               yet
               much
               important
               Load
               ,
            
             
               They
               might
               with
               horrour
               to
               the
               Camp
               convay
               .
            
          
           
             
               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
               eredit
               give
               ;
            
             
               Who
               could
               not
               think
               their
               mighty
               Oswald
               dead
               ,
            
             
               VVhilst
               they
               unconquer'd
               and
               unwounded
               live
               ▪
            
          
           
             
               4.
               
            
             
               Nor
               could
               Fame
               hope
               to
               make
               this
               Camp
               her
               Seat
               ;
            
             
               Her
               Tales
               ,
               the
               talking
               ,
               idle
               ,
               fearfull
               ,
               hear
               ;
            
             
               But
               these
               are
               silent
               as
               in
               sto●n
               retreat
               ,
            
             
               Busie
               as
               life
               ,
               and
               like
               the
               Dead
               ,
               past
               fear
               .
            
          
           
             
               5.
               
            
             
               Near
               Mela's
               flowry
               Bank
               this
               Army
               lay
               ,
            
             
               VVhich
               Oswald's
               Syre
               ,
               and
               Oswald
               oft
               had
               led
            
             
               Against
               the
               Vandals
               King
               ;
               and
               twice
               the
               Day
            
             
               They
               gain'd
               ,
               whilst
               he
               from
               them
               and
               Empire
               fled
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               6.
               
            
             
               From
               Youth
               expos'd
               ,
               like
               〈◊〉
               in
               the
               Field
               ;
            
             
               And
               not
               taught
               war
               ●●th
               ,
               as
               Citie
               Infants
               are
               ;
            
             
               But
               colds
               and
               ●asts
               ,
               to
               kill
               or
               to
               be
               kill'd
               ;
            
             
               Like
               th'
               Elements
               their
               birth
               began
               with
               war.
               
            
          
           
             
               7.
               
            
             
               So
               rev'rend
               now
               ,
               and
               strong
               in
               age
               appear
               ,
            
             
               As
               if
               maintain'd
               by
               more
               than
               humane
               breath
               ;
            
             
               So
               grave
               ,
               as
               if
               the
               Councellours
               they
               were
               ▪
            
             
               Not
               Executioners
               of
               Tyrant
               Death
               .
            
          
           
             
               8.
               
            
             
               VVith
               silence
               (
               order's
               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
               fix'd
               Arms
               ,
               all
               niceness
               check'd
               .
            
          
           
             
               9.
               
            
             
               They
               thought
               ,
               those
               that
               unarm'd
               expos'd
               f●all
               life
               ;
            
             
               But
               naked
               Nature
               valiantly
               betrai'd
               ;
            
             
               VVho
               was
               ,
               though
               naked
               ,
               safe
               ,
               till
               pride
               made
               strife
               ;
            
             
               But
               made
               defence
               must
               use
               ,
               now
               dangers
               made
               .
            
          
           
             
               10.
               
            
             
               And
               those
               who
               toyl
               of
               Armour
               cannot
               bide
               ,
            
             
               Lose
               Nature's
               force
               ,
               which
               these
               in
               custom
               find
               ;
            
             
               And
               make
               (
               since
               strength
               's
               but
               Nature
               hou●ly
               try'd
               )
            
             
               The
               Body
               weak
               by
               softness
               of
               the
               Mind
               .
            
          
           
             
               11.
               
            
             
               They
               seem'd
               so
               calm
               ,
               and
               with
               their
               age
               so
               grave
               ,
            
             
               So
               just
               and
               civil
               in
               their
               killing
               trade
               ,
            
             
               As
               if
               all
               life
               were
               crime
               but
               what
               they
               save
               ;
            
             
               Or
               Murder
               were
               by
               method
               lawfull
               made
               .
            
          
           
             
               12.
               
            
             
               Yet
               now
               that
               Manhood
               which
               those
               Victors
               makes
            
             
               (
               So
               weak
               is
               Man
               ,
               where
               most
               he
               may
               be
               proud
               )
            
             
               Pitie
               ,
               the
               tender'st
               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
               scorn'd
               Rumour
               ,
               gave
               belief
               ,
            
             
               And
               then
               by
               Hubert's
               wounds
               thought
               Oswald
               slain
               .
            
          
           
             
               14.
               
            
             
               But
               when
               disguis'd
               in
               death
               they
               Oswald
               saw
               ,
            
             
               In
               a
               slow
               Chariot
               brought
               ,
               with
               fun'ral
               pace
               ;
            
             
               Themselves
               in
               an
               united
               Croud
               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
               womens
               sighs
               ,
               with
               tears
               allay'd
               ;
            
             
               As
               if
               those
               women
               taught
               them
               to
               complain
            
             
               Who
               by
               their
               Swords
               are
               weeping
               widows
               made
               .
            
          
           
             
               17.
               
            
             
               As
               Icie
               Rocks
               which
               frosts
               together
               bind
               ,
            
             
               Stand
               silent
               ,
               till
               as
               silently
               they
               melt
               ,
            
             
               But
               when
               they
               meet
               in
               Currents
               unconfin'd
               ,
            
             
               Swell
               ,
               and
               grow
               loud
               ,
               as
               if
               they
               freedom
               felt
               ;
            
          
           
             
               18.
               
            
             
               So
               these
               ,
               unmov'd
               before
               ,
               melt
               quietly
            
             
               In
               their
               first
               grief
               ,
               till
               grief
               (
               when
               tears
               meet
               tears
               ,
            
             
               And
               sighs
               meet
               sighs
               from
               ev'ry
               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
               Ensignes
               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
               shew
               their
               rage
               more
               eminent
               (
            
             
               VVould
               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
               ,
            
             
               VVhilst
               Prudence
               ,
               ●lower
               pac'd
               was
               left
               behind
               )
            
             
               VVould
               keep
               their
               anger
               bent
               ,
               yet
               slack
               their
               haste
               ;
            
             
               Because
               the
               rash
               fall
               oftner
               then
               the
               blind
               .
            
          
           
             
               23.
               
            
             
               He
               first
               their
               melting
               Pity
               kindly
               prais'd
               ,
            
             
               VVhich
               water'd
               Anger
               's
               forge
               ,
               and
               urg'd
               their
               fire
               ;
            
             
               That
               like
               to
               Meteors
               lasts
               by
               being
               rais'd
               ,
            
             
               But
               when
               it
               first
               does
               sink
               ,
               does
               strait
               expire
               .
            
          
           
             
               24
            
             
               Commends
               their
               anger
               ,
               yet
               that
               flame
               he
               prays
            
             
               May
               keep
               the
               temp'rate
               Chymicks
               equal
               heat
               ;
            
             
               That
               they
               in
               surie
               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
               Guid
               ;
               whilst
               Grief
            
             
               (
               Which
               high
               Revenge
               ,
               as
               tameness
               should
               disdain
               )
            
             
               Sleep
               shall
               conceal
               ,
               and
               give
               his
               wounds
               relief
               .
            
          
           
             
               26
            
             
               He
               
                 Vasco
                 ,
                 Paradine
              
               ,
               and
               Dargonet
               ,
            
             
               VVith
               Oswald
               ,
               to
               the
               red
               Pavilion
               sent
               ;
            
             
               (
               Death's
               equal
               Pris'ners
               now
               for
               Nature's
               debt
               )
            
             
               And
               then
               retires
               with
               Borgio
               to
               his
               sent
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               27
            
             
               This
               is
               the
               night
               the
               Brescians
               so
               bemoan'd
               ;
            
             
               Who
               left
               their
               beds
               ,
               and
               on
               then
               walls
               appear'd
               ;
            
             
               As
               if
               th'
               oppressed
               World
               in
               Earth-quakes
               groan'd
               ,
            
             
               Or
               that
               some
               ruin'd
               Nation
               's
               figh●
               they
               heard
               ;
            
          
           
             
               28.
               
            
             
               Admir'd
               what
               in
               that
               Damp
               such
               griefs
               could
               raise
               ,
            
             
               Where
               serious
               Death
               so
               oft
               had
               been
               abus'd
               ,
            
             
               When
               even
               their
               sportive
               Fencers
               Monthly
               Plays
            
             
               Profan'd
               that
               shape
               ,
               which
               States
               for
               terror
               us'd
               .
            
          
           
             
               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
               lib'ral
               of
               his
               life
               ,
               of
               wealth
               as
               free
               ;
            
             
               By
               which
               he
               chief
               in
               fighting
               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
               rais'd
               ,
            
             
               By
               shewing
               Gifts
               he
               gave
               ,
               and
               wounds
               he
               took
               ;
            
             
               They
               chid
               at
               last
               his
               life
               which
               they
               had
               prais'd
               ,
            
             
               Because
               such
               virtue
               it
               so
               soon
               forsook
               .
            
          
           
             
               32.
               
            
             
               Now
               Night
               ,
               by
               Grief
               neglected
               ,
               hastes
               away
               !
            
             
               And
               they
               the
               Morn's
               officious
               Usher
               spie
               ,
            
             
               The
               closs
               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
               ev'ry
               Guard
               ;
            
             
               Though
               they
               Reveillees
               scorn
               ,
               whom
               grief
               does
               wake
               ,
            
             
               And
               sleep
               ,
               think
               Nature's
               curse
               ,
               not
               toyls
               reward
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               44.
               
            
             
               All
               night
               proud
               Borgio
               (
               chief
               in
               Hubert's
               trust
               )
            
             
               With
               haughtie
               hopes
               ,
               the
               Camp
               does
               waking
               keep
               :
            
             
               Ambition
               is
               more
               vigilant
               than
               Lust
               ,
            
             
               And
               in
               hope
               's
               feaver
               is
               too
               hot
               to
               sleep
               .
            
          
           
             
               45.
               
            
             
               Now
               Day
               ,
               and
               Hubert
               haste
               to
               publick
               view
               ;
            
             
               His
               wounds
               (
               unluckie
               more
               than
               dangerous
               )
            
             
               Are
               so
               refresh'd
               ,
               that
               he
               the
               Army
               drew
            
             
               To
               a
               wide
               gross
               ,
               and
               urg'd
               their
               Anger
               thus
               .
            
          
           
             
               46.
               
            
             
               Friends
               to
               my
               Father
               !
               In
               whose
               wounds
               I
               see
            
             
               They
               envy'd
               Merit
               whence
               his
               triumphs
               came
               ;
            
             
               And
               Fathers
               to
               my
               Brother
               ,
               and
               to
               me
               ;
            
             
               For
               onely
               you
               adopted
               us
               to
               Fame
               !
            
          
           
             
               47.
               
            
             
               Forgive
               me
               that
               I
               there
               have
               ●eebly
               ●ought
               ,
            
             
               Where
               Oswald
               in
               your
               cause
               did
               nobly
               strive
               ;
            
             
               Whence
               of
               his
               bloud
               these
               veins
               so
               much
               have
               brought
               ,
            
             
               As
               makes
               me
               blush
               that
               I
               am
               still
               alive
               !
            
          
           
             
               48.
               
            
             
               Gone
               is
               your
               fighting
               Youth
               ,
               whom
               you
               have
               bred
            
             
               From
               milkie
               Childhood
               to
               the
               years
               of
               bloud
               !
            
             
               By
               whom
               you
               joy'd
               so
               often
               to
               be
               led
               ,
            
             
               Where
               firm
               ,
               as
               now
               your
               Trophies
               ,
               then
               you
               stood
               !
            
          
           
             
               49.
               
            
             
               Gon
               is
               he
               now
               ,
               who
               still
               with
               low
               regard
            
             
               Bow'd
               to
               your
               age
               ,
               your
               wounds
               as
               beautie
               kist
               ;
            
             
               Knew
               Age
               was
               of
               your
               temp'rance
               the
               reward
               ;
            
             
               And
               Courts
               in
               beauty
               by
               your
               skars
               subsist
               .
            
          
           
             
               50.
               
            
             
               Yet
               was
               he
               not
               for
               mean
               pretensions
               slain
               ,
            
             
               Who
               for
               your
               int'rest
               ,
               not
               his
               own
               has
               fought
               ;
            
             
               Vex'd
               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
               Fav'rite
               overthrown
               )
            
             
               Will
               by
               his
               Camp
               of
               Boys
               at
               Bergamo
               ,
            
             
               Wed
               her
               ,
               who
               to
               your
               Valour
               ows
               the
               Crown
               .
            
          
           
             
               42.
               
            
             
               Blame
               not
               your
               Chief
               for
               his
               ambitious
               fire
               ;
            
             
               Who
               was
               but
               temp'rate
               ,
               when
               he
               understood
            
             
               He
               might
               the
               Empire
               in
               your
               right
               require
               ;
            
             
               The
               scant
               reward
               of
               your
               exhausted
               bloud
               .
            
          
           
             
               43.
               
            
             
               Thus
               Hubert
               spake
               ,
               but
               now
               so
               fierce
               they
               grow
               ,
            
             
               That
               Borgio
               strove
               to
               quench
               whom
               Hubert
               warm'd
               ;
            
             
               To
               Bergamo
               ,
               they
               cry'd
               ,
               to
               Bergamo
               !
            
             
               And
               as
               they
               soon
               were
               vex'd
               ,
               as
               soon
               are
               arm'd
               .
            
          
           
             
               44.
               
            
             
               For
               to
               distinct
               and
               spacions
               Tents
               they
               hie
               ,
            
             
               Where
               quick
               as
               Vests
               of
               Persia
               shifted
               are
               ,
            
             
               Their
               Arms
               (
               which
               there
               in
               cleanly
               order
               lie
               )
            
             
               They
               take
               from
               moving
               Ward-robes
               of
               the
               War.
               
            
          
           
             
               45.
               
            
             
               Arm'd
               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
               Heav'n
               to
               harm
               them
               by
               surprise
               .
            
          
           
             
               46.
               
            
             
               With
               Ensigns
               now
               display'd
               ,
               there
               Force
               they
               draw
            
             
               To
               hastie
               order
               ,
               and
               begin
               to
               move
               ;
            
             
               But
               are
               amus'd
               by
               something
               that
               they
               saw
               ,
            
             
               Which
               look'd
               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
               appeas'd
               them
               by
               approching
               near
               ,
            
             
               And
               satisfi'd
               their
               Eyes
               in
               all
               they
               sought
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               48.
               
            
             
               And
               this
               was
               Gartha
               in
               her
               Chari'ot
               drawn
               ;
            
             
               Who
               through
               the
               swarthie
               Region
               of
               the
               Night
            
             
               Drove
               from
               the
               Court
               ;
               and
               as
               a
               second
               dawn
            
             
               Breaks
               on
               them
               like
               the
               Morns
               Reserve
               of
               Light.
               
            
          
           
             
               49.
               
            
             
               Through
               all
               the
               Camp
               she
               moves
               with
               Fun'ral
               pace
               ,
            
             
               And
               still
               bows
               meekly
               down
               to
               all
               she
               saw
               ;
            
             
               Her
               grief
               gave
               speaking
               beautie
               to
               her
               Face
               ,
            
             
               Which
               lowly
               look'd
               ,
               that
               it
               might
               pitie
               draw
               .
            
          
           
             
               50.
               
            
             
               When
               by
               her
               Slaves
               her
               name
               they
               understood
               ,
            
             
               Her
               Lines
               of
               feature
               heedfully
               they
               view
               ,
            
             
               In
               her
               complexion
               track
               their
               Gen'ral's
               bloud
               ,
            
             
               And
               find
               her
               more
               than
               what
               by
               fame
               they
               knew
               .
            
          
           
             
               51.
               
            
             
               They
               humbly
               her
               to
               that
               Pavilion
               guide
               ,
            
             
               Where
               Hubert
               his
               bold
               Chiefs
               with
               furie
               fir'd
               ;
            
             
               But
               his
               ambition
               ,
               when
               he
               Gartha
               spy'd
            
             
               (
               To
               give
               his
               sorrow
               place
               )
               a
               while
               retyr'd
               .
            
          
           
             
               52.
               
            
             
               With
               his
               respectfull
               help
               she
               does
               descend
               ;
            
             
               Where
               they
               ,
               with
               dear
               imbraces
               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
               assum'd
               ,
               she
               does
               decline
               ;
            
             
               As
               bred
               too
               soft
               ,
               to
               mannage
               griefs
               excess
               .
            
          
           
             
               54.
               
            
             
               Then
               soon
               return'd
               ,
               as
               loth
               to
               shew
               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
               spake
               :
            
          
           
             
             
               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
               fear'd
               ;
            
             
               Whose
               Darling
               is
               alive
               ,
               though
               yours
               be
               dead
               ?
            
          
           
             
               56.
               
            
             
               The
               Court
               shines
               out
               at
               Rhodalind's
               commands
               ,
            
             
               To
               me
               (
               your
               drooping
               Flowre
               )
               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
               disorder'd
               flie
               ;
            
             
               Lest
               she
               should
               say
               ,
               thy
               Fate
               unpity'd
               comes
               !
            
             
               Go
               sing
               ,
               where
               now
               thy
               Fathers
               Fighters
               lie
               ,
            
             
               Thy
               Brothers
               Requiem
               ,
               to
               their
               conqu'ring
               Drums
               !
            
          
           
             
               58.
               
            
             
               The
               happy
               Fields
               by
               those
               grave
               Warriours
               fought
               ,
            
             
               (
               Which
               from
               the
               Dictates
               of
               thy
               aged
               Syre
               ,
            
             
               Oswald
               in
               high
               Victorious
               Numbers
               wrote
               )
            
             
               Thou
               shalt
               no
               more
               sing
               to
               thy
               silenc'd
               Lyre
               !
            
          
           
             
               59.
               
            
             
               Such
               scorns
               ,
               pow'r
               on
               unlucky
               virtue
               throws
               ,
            
             
               When
               Courts
               with
               prosp'rous
               vices
               wanton
               are
               ;
            
             
               Who
               your
               Authentick
               age
               dispise
               for
               those
               ,
            
             
               Who
               are
               to
               you
               but
               Infants
               of
               the
               war.
               
            
          
           
             
               60.
               
            
             
               Thus
               though
               she
               spake
               ,
               her
               looks
               did
               more
               perswade
               ;
            
             
               Like
               virtuous
               anger
               did
               her
               colour
               rise
               ,
            
             
               As
               if
               th'
               injurious
               world
               it
               would
               invade
               ,
            
             
               Whilst
               tears
               of
               rage
               not
               pitie
               drown
               her
               Eyes
               .
            
          
           
             
               61.
               
            
             
               The
               sun
               did
               thus
               to
               threatned
               Nature
               show
            
             
               His
               anger
               red
               ,
               whilst
               guilt
               look'd
               pale
               in
               all
               ;
            
             
               When
               Clouds
               of
               Flouds
               did
               hang
               about
               his
               Brow
               ,
            
             
               And
               then
               shrunk
               back
               to
               let
               that
               anger
               fall
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               62.
               
            
             
               And
               so
               she
               turn'd
               her
               Face
               ,
               not
               as
               to
               grieve
            
             
               At
               ruin
               ,
               but
               to
               lisence
               what
               she
               rais'd
               ;
            
             
               Whilst
               they
               (
               like
               common
               Throngs
               )
               all
               Tongues
               believe
            
             
               When
               Courts
               are
               tax'd
               ,
               but
               none
               when
               they
               are
               prais'd
               .
            
          
           
             
               63.
               
            
             
               Like
               Commets
               ,
               Courts
               afflict
               the
               Vulgar
               Eye
               ;
            
             
               And
               when
               they
               largest
               in
               their
               glory
               blaze
               ,
            
             
               People
               through
               ignorance
               think
               plag●es
               are
               nigh
               ,
            
             
               And
               till
               they
               waste
               with
               mourning
               wonder
               gaze
               .
            
          
           
             
               64.
               
            
             
               These
               scorn
               the
               Courts
               dissertion
               for
               their
               age
               ;
            
             
               The
               Active
               ,
               ease
               impos'd
               ,
               like
               pain
               endure
               ▪
            
             
               For
               though
               calm
               rest
               does
               Ages
               pains
               asswage
               ,
            
             
               Yet
               few
               the
               sickness
               own
               to
               get
               the
               cure
               .
            
          
           
             
               65.
               
            
             
               To
               Heav'n
               they
               lift
               their
               looks
               !
               whose
               Sun
               ne'r
               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
               wish'd
               him
               take
               his
               leave
               ;
            
             
               Which
               ere
               his
               third
               return
               they
               will
               destroy
               ,
            
             
               Till
               none
               shall
               guess
               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
               reach'd
               the
               Clouds
               )
               low
               as
               her
               Quaries
               fall
               !
            
             
               They
               Court
               they
               'l
               bury
               in
               the
               Cities
               dust
               .
            
          
        
         
           
           
             CANTO
             the
             Fourth
             .
          
           
             
               The
               ARGUMENT
               .
            
             
               
                 At
                 OSWALD'S
                 Camp
                 arrives
                 wise
                 
                   HER
                   MEGILD
                
                 ,
              
               
                 Whose
                 presence
                 does
                 a
                 new
                 diversion
                 yield
                 ;
              
               
                 In
                 Councel
                 he
                 reveals
                 his
                 secret
                 Breast
                 ▪
              
               
                 Would
                 mingle
                 Love
                 with
                 Empires
                 interest
                 :
              
               
                 From
                 rash
                 revenge
                 ,
                 〈◊〉
                 ●●●c●
                 the
                 Camp
                 invites
                 ,
              
               
                 Who
                 ▪
                 OSWALD'S
                 Fun'ral
                 grace
                 with
                 Roman
                 Rites
                 .
              
            
          
           
             
               1.
               
            
             
               IN
               this
               distemper
               whilst
               the
               humours
               strive
            
             
               T'
               assemble
               ,
               they
               again
               diverted
               are
               ;
            
             
               For
               tow'rds
               their
               Trenches
               Twentie
               Chariots
               drive
               ,
            
             
               Swiftly
               as
               Syrians
               when
               they
               charge
               in
               war.
               
            
          
           
             
               2.
               
            
             
               They
               Hermegild
               with
               Court
               attendants
               spy'd
               ;
            
             
               Whose
               haste
               to
               Hubert
               does
               advice
               intend
               ;
            
             
               To
               warn
               him
               that
               just
               Fate
               can
               ne'r
               provide
            
             
               For
               rash
               beginnings
               a
               succesfull
               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
               hastning
               to
               prevent
               the
               publick
               Fall.
               
            
          
           
             
               4.
               
            
             
               His
               noble
               bloud
               obscurely
               had
               been
               shed
               ,
            
             
               His
               undistinguish'd
               Limbs
               torn
               and
               unknown
               ,
            
             
               As
               is
               the
               dust
               of
               Victors
               long
               since
               dead
               ,
            
             
               Which
               March
               in
               April's
               watry
               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
               furie
               stay
               ;
            
             
               And
               gave
               his
               life
               protection
               for
               his
               fame
               ,
            
          
           
             
             
               6.
               
            
             
               Told
               them
               his
               Valour
               had
               been
               long
               allow'd
               ,
            
             
               That
               much
               the
               Lombards
               to
               his
               conduct
               ow
               ;
            
             
               And
               this
               preserv'd
               him
               ,
               for
               the
               very
               Crowd
            
             
               Felt
               Honour
               here
               ,
               and
               did
               to
               valour
               bow
               .
            
          
           
             
               7.
               
            
             
               Vain
               Wrath
               !
               Deform'd
               ,
               unquiet
               Child
               of
               Pride
               !
            
             
               Which
               in
               a
               few
               the
               People
               madness
               call
               ;
            
             
               But
               when
               by
               Number
               they
               grew
               dignify'd
               ,
            
             
               What
               's
               rage
               in
               one
               ,
               is
               liberty
               in
               all
               .
            
          
           
             
               8.
               
            
             
               Through
               dangers
               of
               this
               lawless
               liberty
               ,
            
             
               He
               like
               authentick
               Pow'r
               does
               boldly
               pass
               ;
            
             
               And
               with
               a
               quiet
               and
               experienc'd
               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
               shew
               him
               all
               the
               civil
               signs
               of
               Love.
               
            
          
           
             
               11.
               
            
             
               For
               him
               in
               stormy
               war
               he
               glorious
               knew
               ;
            
             
               Nor
               in
               calm
               Counsels
               was
               he
               less
               renown'd
               ;
            
             
               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
               tow'rds
               his
               Evening
               turns
               )
            
             
               Makes
               against
               Nature's
               Law
               ,
               Lov
               's
               Charter
               good
               ,
            
             
               And
               as
               in
               raging
               Youth
               for
               Gartha
               burns
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               13.
               
            
             
               Who
               did
               his
               suit
               not
               onely
               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
               usefull
               was
               )
            
             
               Perswades
               his
               hope
               with
               Rhet'rick
               of
               her
               Eyes
               .
            
          
           
             
               15.
               
            
             
               A
               closs
               division
               of
               the
               Tent
               they
               straight
            
             
               By
               outward
               Guards
               secure
               from
               all
               resort
               ;
            
             
               Then
               Hermegild
               does
               thus
               the
               cause
               relate
               ,
            
             
               Which
               to
               the
               Camp
               dispatch'd
               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
               sayl'd
               through
               Times
               vexatious
               sea
               ;
            
             
               And
               first
               set
               out
               with
               all
               that
               Youth
               is
               worth
               ;
            
             
               The
               Tropicks
               pass'd
               of
               bloods
               hot
               bravery
               ,
            
             
               With
               all
               the
               Sayls
               ,
               gay
               Flags
               ,
               and
               Streamers
               forth
               !
            
          
           
             
               18.
               
            
             
               But
               as
               in
               hotter
               voyages
               ,
               Ships
               most
            
             
               Decay
               their
               trim
               ,
               yet
               then
               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
               pitie
               move
               ,
            
             
               Since
               so
               I
               seek
               your
               service
               by
               self-praise
               ,
            
             
               Rather
               than
               seem
               unusefull
               where
               I
               love
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               20.
               
            
             
               And
               never
               will
               I
               (
               though
               by
               Time
               supply'd
            
             
               With
               such
               discretion
               as
               does
               Man
               improve
               )
            
             
               To
               shew
               discretion
               ,
               wiser
               Nature
               hide
               ,
            
             
               By
               seeming
               now
               asham'd
               to
               say
               I
               love
               .
            
          
           
             
               21.
               
            
             
               For
               Love
               his
               pow'r
               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'r
               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
               Pow'r
               bestow
            
             
               The
               Crown
               on
               thee
               ,
               ●dor●'d
               with
               Rhodalind
               ;
            
             
               Which
               yet
               for
               Gartha
               is
               a
               price
               too
               low
               .
            
          
           
             
               25.
               
            
             
               This
               said
               ,
               he
               paws'd
               ;
               and
               now
               the
               hectick
               heat
            
             
               Of
               Oswald's
               blood
               ,
               doubled
               their
               Pul●es
               pace
               ;
            
             
               Which
               high
               ,
               as
               if
               they
               would
               be
               heard
               ,
               did
               beat
               ,
            
             
               And
               hot
               Ambition
               shin'd
               in
               eithers
               face
               .
            
          
           
             
               26.
               
            
             
               For
               Hermegild
               they
               knew
               could
               much
               out-doe
            
             
               His
               words
               ,
               and
               did
               possess
               great
               Aribert
               ,
            
             
               Not
               in
               the
               Courts
               cheap
               Glass
               of
               civil
               show
               ,
            
             
               But
               by
               a
               study'd
               Tenure
               of
               the
               heart
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               27.
               
            
             
               Whilst
               this
               try'd
               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
               her self
               ,
               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
               binde
               ,
            
             
               (
               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
               Armies
               rage
               allay
               ;
            
             
               By
               rage
               (
               said
               he
               )
               onely
               they
               Masters
               are
            
             
               Of
               those
               they
               chuse
               ,
               when
               temp'rate
               to
               obay
               :
            
             
               Against
               themselves
               th'impatient
               chiefly
               war.
               
            
          
           
             
               32.
               
            
             
               We
               are
               the
               Peoples
               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
               surprize
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               34.
               
            
             
               Your
               Army
               will
               (
               though
               high
               in
               all
               esteem
            
             
               That
               ever
               rev'renc'd
               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
               soft'ned
               into
               fears
               ;
            
             
               But
               Death
               deform'd
               in
               all
               his
               Dangers
               knows
               ;
            
             
               Dangers
               ,
               which
               he
               like
               frightfull
               Vizards
               wears
               .
            
          
           
             
               36.
               
            
             
               From
               many
               Camps
               ,
               who
               forreign
               winters
               felt
               ,
            
             
               Verona
               has
               her
               conqu'ring
               Dwellers
               ta'ne
               ;
            
             
               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
               out-doing
               all
               the
               Lombards
               Line
               !
            
             
               Whose
               Court
               (
               in
               Iron
               clad
               )
               by
               courseness
               shows
            
             
               A
               growing
               pow'r
               ,
               which
               fades
               when
               Courts
               grow
               fine
               .
            
          
           
             
               38.
               
            
             
               Scorn
               not
               the
               Youthfull
               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
               out-go
               ,
            
             
               The
               rash
               ,
               who
               run
               from
               help
               ,
               she
               ne'r
               ore-takes
               ,
            
             
               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
               ;
            
             
               'T
               is
               too
               unwildy
               for
               the
               force
               of
               haste
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               41.
               
            
             
               A
               cause
               for
               graver
               Minds
               that
               learned
               are
            
             
               In
               mistick
               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
               publick
               right
               ,
            
             
               And
               get
               in
               Rhodalind
               the
               Peoples
               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
               subdu'd
               ;
            
             
               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
               Sutors
               yield
               remorse
               ;
            
             
               And
               where
               they
               see
               the
               pow'r
               ,
               the
               right
               distrust
               .
            
          
           
             
               45.
               
            
             
               Assault
               their
               pitie
               ,
               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
               pitie
               ,
               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
            
             
               (
               Urg'd
               by
               my
               int'rest
               here
               )
               my
               pow'r
               improve
               ;
            
             
               And
               much
               my
               power
               will
               to
               your
               int'rest
               bring
               ,
            
             
               If
               from
               the
               watchfull
               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
               unconcern'd
               )
               may
               know
            
             
               The
               Kings
               new
               depths
               ,
               which
               length
               of
               trust
               may
               sound
               !
            
          
           
             
               49.
               
            
             
               Thus
               Hermegild
               his
               study'd
               thoughts
               declar'd
               ;
            
             
               Whilst
               Hubert
               (
               who
               believ'd
               ,
               discover'd
               love
               .
            
             
               A
               solid
               Pledge
               for
               hidden
               faith
               )
               prepar'd
               ▪
            
             
               To
               stay
               the
               Camp
               so
               furious
               to
               remove
               .
            
          
           
             
               50.
               
            
             
               And
               now
               their
               rage
               (
               by
               correspondence
               spred
               )
            
             
               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
               increas'd
               ;
               but
               now
               he
               hastes
            
             
               Down
               Heav'ns
               steep
               Hill
               ,
               to
               his
               Atlantick
               Bath
               ,
            
             
               Where
               he
               refreshes
               till
               his
               Feaver
               wastes
               .
            
          
           
             
               52.
               
            
             
               With
               his
               (
               by
               Borgin's
               help
               )
               their
               heat
               declin'd
               ;
            
             
               So
               soon
               lov'd
               Eloquence
               does
               Throngs
               fubdue
               ;
            
             
               The
               common
               Mistress
               to
               each
               private
               Mind
               ;
            
             
               Painted
               and
               dress'd
               to
               all
               ,
               to
               no
               Man
               true
               .
            
          
           
             
               53.
               
            
             
               To
               Court
               his
               
                 Gartha
                 Hermegild
              
               attends
               ,
            
             
               And
               with
               old
               Lovers
               vain
               poetick
               Eyes
               ,
            
             
               Marks
               how
               her
               beauty
               ,
               when
               the
               Sun
               descends
               ,
            
             
               His
               pity'd
               Evening
               poverty
               supplies
               .
            
          
           
             
               54.
               
            
             
               The
               Army
               now
               to
               Neighb'ring
               Brescia
               bear
               ,
            
             
               With
               dismal
               pomp
               ,
               the
               slain
               :
               In
               hallow'd
               ground
            
             
               They
               Paradine
               ,
               and
               Dargonet
               interr
               ,
            
             
               And
               Vasco
               much
               in
               painfull
               war
               renown'd
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               55.
               
            
             
               To
               Oswald
               (
               whose
               illustrious
               Roman
               mind
            
             
               Shin'd
               out
               in
               life
               ,
               though
               now
               in
               dying
               hid
               )
            
             
               Hubert
               these
               Roman
               fun'ral
               rites
               assign'd
               ,
            
             
               Which
               yet
               the
               world's
               last
               law
               had
               not
               forbid
               .
            
          
           
             
               56.
               
            
             
               Thrice
               is
               his
               Body
               clean
               by
               bathing
               made
               ,
            
             
               And
               when
               with
               Victor's
               Oyl
               anointed
               ore
               ,
            
             
               'T
               is
               in
               the
               Palace
               Gate
               devoutly
               laid
               ,
            
             
               Clad
               in
               that
               Vest
               which
               he
               in
               Battel
               wore
               .
            
          
           
             
               57.
               
            
             
               Whilst
               seven
               succeeding
               Suns
               pass
               sadly
               by
               ,
            
             
               The
               Palace
               seems
               all
               hid
               in
               Cypress
               Boughs
               ;
            
             
               From
               ancient
               Lore
               of
               Man's
               mortalitie
            
             
               The
               Type
               ,
               for
               where
               't
               is
               lopp'd
               it
               never
               grows
               .
            
          
           
             
               58.
               
            
             
               The
               publick
               fun'ral
               voice
               ,
               till
               these
               expire
               ,
            
             
               Cries
               out
               ;
               Here
               greatness
               ,
               tir'd
               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
               Corps
               they
               raise
               ,
            
             
               Whilst
               Trumpets
               summon
               all
               the
               common
               Quire
            
             
               In
               tune
               to
               mourn
               him
               ,
               and
               disperse
               his
               praise
               ;
            
             
               And
               then
               move
               slowly
               tow'rds
               the
               Fun'ral
               fire
               !
            
          
           
             
               60.
               
            
             
               They
               bear
               before
               him
               Spoils
               they
               gain'd
               in
               war
               ,
            
             
               And
               his
               great
               Ancestours
               in
               Sculpture
               wrought
               ;
            
             
               And
               now
               arrive
               ,
               where
               Hubert
               does
               declare
            
             
               How
               oft
               and
               well
               ,
               he
               for
               the
               Lombards
               fought
               .
            
          
           
             
               61.
               
            
             
               Here
               ,
               in
               an
               Altar's
               form
               ,
               a
               Pile
               is
               made
            
             
               Of
               Unctious
               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
               stretch'd
               ;
            
             
               Whilst
               to
               the
               hopefull
               East
               his
               Eyes
               were
               turn'd
               ;
            
             
               And
               with
               a
               hallow'd
               Torch
               the
               Pyle
               he
               reach'd
               ;
            
             
               VVhich
               seen
               ,
               they
               all
               with
               utmost
               clamour
               mourn'd
               .
            
          
           
             
               63.
               
            
             
               VVhilst
               the
               full
               Flame
               aspires
               ,
               Oswald
               (
               they
               crie
               )
            
             
               Farewell
               !
               we
               follow
               swiftly
               as
               the
               Hours
               !
            
             
               For
               with
               Time's
               wings
               ,
               tow'rds
               Death
               ,
               even
               Cripples
               flie
               !
            
             
               This
               said
               ,
               the
               hungrie
               Flame
               its
               food
               devours
               .
            
          
           
             
               64.
               
            
             
               Now
               Priests
               with
               VVine
               the
               Ashes
               quench
               ,
               and
               hide
            
             
               The
               Rev'renc'd
               Reliques
               in
               a
               Marble
               Urn.
            
             
               The
               old
               dismissive
               Ilicet
               is
               cry'd
            
             
               By
               the
               Town
               voice
               ,
               and
               all
               to
               Feasts
               return
               .
            
          
           
             
               65.
               
            
             
               Thus
               Urns
               may
               Bodies
               shew
               ;
               but
               the
               fled
               Mind
            
             
               The
               Learn'd
               seek
               vainly
               ;
               for
               whose
               Quest
               we
               pay
               ,
            
             
               VVith
               such
               success
               as
               cosen'd
               Shepherds
               find
               ,
            
             
               VVho
               seek
               to
               VVizards
               when
               their
               Cattel
               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
                 ayd
                 of
                 Life
                 ,
              
               
                 Is
                 by
                 full
                 wealth
                 and
                 conduct
                 easie
                 made
                 ;
              
               
                 And
                 Truth
                 much
                 visited
                 ,
                 though
                 in
                 her
                 shade
                 .
              
            
          
           
             
               1.
               
            
             
               FRom
               Brescia
               swiftly
               ore
               the
               bord'ring
               Plain
               ,
            
             
               Return
               we
               to
               the
               House
               of
               Astragon
               ;
            
             
               Where
               Gondibert
               ,
               and
               his
               succesfull
               Train
               ,
            
             
               Kindly
               lament
               the
               Victorie
               they
               won
               .
            
          
           
             
               2.
               
            
             
               But
               though
               I
               Fame's
               great
               Book
               shall
               open
               now
               ,
            
             
               Expect
               a
               while
               ,
               till
               she
               that
               Decad
               reads
               ,
            
             
               Which
               does
               this
               Dukes
               eternal
               Story
               show
               ,
            
             
               And
               aged
               Ulfin
               cites
               for
               special
               deeds
               .
            
          
           
             
               3.
               
            
             
               Where
               Friendship
               is
               renown'd
               in
               Ulfinore
               ;
            
             
               Where
               th'
               ancient
               musick
               of
               delightfull
               verse
               ;
            
             
               Does
               it
               no
               less
               in
               Goltho's
               Breast
               adore
               ,
            
             
               And
               th'
               union
               of
               their
               equal
               hearts
               rehearse
               .
            
          
           
             
               4.
               
            
             
               These
               wearie
               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
               op'd
               her
               Treasurie
               of
               light
               ,
            
             
               His
               house
               (
               where
               Art
               and
               Nature
               Tenants
               were
               )
            
             
               The
               pleasure
               grew
               ,
               and
               bus'ness
               of
               their
               sight
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               6.
               
            
             
               Where
               Ulfin
               (
               who
               an
               old
               Domestick
               seems
               ,
            
             
               And
               rules
               as
               Master
               in
               the
               Owners
               Breast
               )
            
             
               Leads
               Goltho
               to
               admire
               what
               he
               esteems
               ;
            
             
               And
               thus
               ,
               what
               he
               had
               long
               observ'd
               ,
               exprest
               .
            
          
           
             
               7.
               
            
             
               Here
               Art
               by
               such
               a
               diligence
               is
               serv'd
               ,
            
             
               As
               does
               th'
               unwearied
               Planets
               imitate
               ;
            
             
               Whose
               motion
               (
               life
               of
               Nature
               )
               has
               preserv'd
            
             
               The
               world
               ,
               which
               God
               vouchsaf'd
               but
               to
               create
               .
            
          
           
             
               8.
               
            
             
               Those
               heights
               ,
               which
               else
               Dwarf-life
               could
               never
               reach
               ,
            
             
               Here
               by
               the
               wings
               of
               Diligence
               they
               climb
               ;
            
             
               Truth
               (
               skar'd
               with
               Terms
               frō
               Canting
               Schools
               )
               they
               teach
               ;
            
             
               And
               buy
               it
               with
               their
               best
               sav'd
               Treasure
               ,
               Time.
               
            
          
           
             
               9.
               
            
             
               Here
               all
               Men
               seem
               Recov'rers
               of
               time
               past
               ;
            
             
               As
               busie
               as
               intentive
               Emmets
               are
               ;
            
             
               As
               alarm'd
               Armies
               that
               intrench
               in
               haste
               ;
            
             
               Or
               Cities
               ,
               whom
               unlook'd-for
               Sieges
               skare
               .
            
          
           
             
               10.
               
            
             
               Much
               it
               delights
               the
               wise
               observers
               Eye
               ,
            
             
               That
               all
               these
               toils
               direct
               to
               sev'ral
               skils
               ;
            
             
               Some
               from
               the
               Mine
               to
               the
               hot
               Fornace
               hie
               ,
            
             
               And
               some
               from
               flowrie
               Fields
               to
               weeping
               Stils.
               
            
          
           
             
               11.
               
            
             
               The
               first
               to
               hopefull
               Chymicks
               matter
               bring
               ,
            
             
               Where
               Med'cine
               they
               extract
               for
               instant
               cure
               ;
            
             
               These
               bear
               the
               sweeter
               burthens
               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
               hungrie
               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
               dwelt
               .
            
          
           
             
               14.
               
            
             
               Others
               through
               Quarries
               dig
               ,
               deeply
               below
            
             
               Where
               Desart
               Rivers
               ,
               cold
               ,
               and
               private
               run
               ;
            
             
               Where
               Bodies
               conservation
               best
               they
               know
               ,
            
             
               And
               Mines
               long
               growth
               ,
               and
               how
               their
               veins
               begun
               .
            
          
           
             
               15.
               
            
             
               He
               shews
               them
               now
               Tow'rs
               of
               prodigious
               height
               ,
            
             
               Where
               Nature's
               Friends
               ,
               Philosophers
               ,
               remain
               ,
            
             
               To
               censure
               Meteors
               in
               their
               cause
               and
               flight
               ;
            
             
               And
               watch
               the
               Wind
               's
               authoritie
               on
               Rain
               .
            
          
           
             
               16.
               
            
             
               Others
               with
               Optick
               Tubes
               the
               Moons
               scant
               sace
            
             
               (
               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
               hastie
               Centuries
               are
               now
               fulfill'd
               ,
            
             
               Since
               Opticks
               first
               were
               known
               to
               Astragon
               ;
            
             
               By
               whom
               the
               Moderns
               are
               become
               so
               skill'd
               ,
            
             
               They
               dream
               of
               seeing
               to
               the
               Maker's
               Throne
               .
            
          
           
             
               18.
               
            
             
               And
               wisely
               Astragon
               thus
               busie
               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
               lov'd
               Earth
               ;
               which
               we
               think
               fix'd
               ;
            
             
               Think
               all
               to
               it
               ,
               and
               it
               to
               none
               relates
               ;
            
             
               With
               others
               motion
               scorn
               to
               have
               it
               mix'd
               :
            
          
           
             
             
               20.
               
            
             
               As
               if
               't
               were
               great
               and
               stately
               to
               stand
               still
            
             
               Whilst
               other
               Orbs
               dance
               on
               ;
               or
               else
               think
               all
            
             
               Those
               vast
               bright
               Globes
               (
               to
               shew
               God's
               needless
               skill
               )
            
             
               Were
               made
               but
               to
               attend
               our
               little
               Ball.
               
            
          
           
             
               21.
               
            
             
               Now
               near
               a
               sever'd
               Building
               they
               discern'd
            
             
               (
               Which
               seem'd
               ,
               as
               in
               a
               pleasant
               shade
               ,
               retir'd
               )
            
             
               A
               Throng
               ,
               by
               whose
               glad
               diligence
               they
               learn'd
               ,
            
             
               They
               came
               frome
               Toils
               which
               their
               own
               choice
               desir'd
               .
            
          
           
             
               22.
               
            
             
               This
               they
               approch
               ,
               and
               as
               they
               enter
               it
            
             
               Their
               Eyes
               were
               stay'd
               ,
               by
               reading
               ore
               the
               Gate
               ,
            
             
               Great
               Natures
               Office
               ,
               in
               large
               letters
               writ
               ;
            
             
               And
               next
               ,
               they
               mark'd
               who
               there
               in
               office
               sa●●
               .
            
          
           
             
               23.
               
            
             
               Old
               busie
               Men
               ,
               yet
               much
               for
               wisdom
               fam'd
               ;
            
             
               Hastie
               to
               know
               ,
               though
               not
               by
               haste
               beguild
               ;
            
             
               These
               fitly
               ,
               Natures
               Registers
               were
               nam'd
               ;
            
             
               The
               Throng
               were
               their
               Intelligencers
               styl'd
               :
            
          
           
             
               24.
               
            
             
               Who
               stop
               by
               snares
               ,
               and
               by
               their
               chace
               oretake
            
             
               All
               hidden
               Beasts
               the
               closser
               Forrest
               yields
               ;
            
             
               All
               that
               by
               secret
               sence
               their
               rescue
               make
               ,
            
             
               Or
               trust
               their
               force
               ,
               or
               swiftness
               in
               the
               Fields
               .
            
          
           
             
               25.
               
            
             
               And
               of
               this
               Throng
               ,
               some
               their
               imployment
               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
               Ayr
               ,
               their
               Prey
               oretake
               ,
            
             
               Cos'ning
               ,
               with
               hunger
               ,
               Faulcons
               of
               their
               wings
               ;
            
             
               Whilst
               all
               their
               patient
               observations
               make
               ,
            
             
               Which
               each
               to
               Natures
               Office
               duely
               brings
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               27.
               
            
             
               And
               there
               of
               ev'ry
               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
               Nurserie
               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
               (
               Heav'n's
               secret
               milk
               )
               in
               unseen
               showrs
            
             
               First
               feed
               the
               early
               Childhood
               of
               the
               year
               ;
            
             
               And
               in
               ripe
               Summer
               ,
               stoop
               for
               Hearbs
               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
               consum'd
               ,
               the
               next
               Spring
               stervs
               .
            
          
           
             
               31.
               
            
             
               From
               hence
               (
               fresh
               Nature's
               flowrishing
               Estate
               !
               )
            
             
               They
               to
               her
               wither'd
               Receptacle
               come
               :
            
             
               Where
               she
               appears
               the
               loathsome
               Slave
               of
               Fate
               ;
            
             
               For
               here
               her
               various
               Dead
               possess
               the
               Room
               .
            
          
           
             
               32.
               
            
             
               This
               dismall
               Gall'ry
               ,
               lofty
               ,
               long
               and
               wide
               ;
            
             
               Was
               hung
               with
               S●●litons
               of
               ev'ry
               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
               dry'd
               by
               him
               ,
               whom
               that
               He
               obay'd
               ;
            
             
               By
               her
               an
               El'phant
               that
               with
               Heards
               had
               fought
               ,
            
             
               Of
               which
               the
               smallest
               Beast
               made
               her
               afraid
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               34.
               
            
             
               Next
               it
               ,
               a
               Whale
               is
               high
               in
               Cables
               ty'd
               ,
            
             
               VVhose
               strength
               might
               Herds
               of
               Elephants
               controul
               ;
            
             
               Then
               all
               ,
               (
               in
               payres
               of
               ev'ry
               kind
               )
               they
               spyd
               ,
            
             
               VVhich
               Death's
               wrack
               leaves
               ,
               of
               Fishes
               ,
               Beasts
               &
               Fowl.
               
            
          
           
             
               35.
               
            
             
               These
               Astragon
               (
               to
               watch
               with
               curious
               Eie
            
             
               The
               diff'rent
               Tenements
               of
               living
               breath
               )
            
             
               Collects
               ,
               with
               what
               far
               Travailers
               supplie
               ;
            
             
               And
               this
               was
               call'd
               ,
               The
               Cabinet
               of
               Death
               .
            
          
           
             
               36.
               
            
             
               VVhich
               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
               call'd
               ,
               The
               Monument
               of
               vanish'd
               Minds
               .
            
          
           
             
               37.
               
            
             
               VVhere
               ,
               when
               they
               thought
               they
               saw
               in
               well
               sought
               Books
               ,
            
             
               Th'
               assembled
               souls
               of
               all
               that
               Men
               held
               wise
               ,
            
             
               It
               bred
               such
               awful
               rev'rence
               in
               their
               looks
               ,
            
             
               As
               if
               they
               saw
               the
               buryd
               writers
               rise
               .
            
          
           
             
               38.
               
            
             
               Such
               heaps
               of
               written
               thoughts
               (
               Gold
               of
               the
               Dead
               ▪
            
             
               VVhich
               Time
               does
               still
               disperse
               ,
               but
               not
               devour
               )
            
             
               Made
               them
               presume
               all
               was
               from
               Deluge
               free'd
               ,
            
             
               Which
               long-liv'd
               Authours
               writ
               ere
               Noah's
               Showr
               .
            
          
           
             
               39.
               
            
             
               They
               saw
               Egyptian
               Roles
               ,
               which
               vastly
               great
               ,
            
             
               Did
               like
               faln
               Pillars
               lie
               ,
               and
               did
               display
            
             
               The
               tale
               of
               Natures
               life
               ,
               from
               her
               first
               hear
               ,
            
             
               Till
               by
               the
               Flood
               o're-cool'd
               ,
               she
               felt
               decay
               .
            
          
           
             
               40.
               
            
             
               And
               large
               as
               these
               (
               for
               Pens
               were
               Pencils
               then
               )
            
             
               Others
               that
               Egypts
               chiefest
               Science
               show'd
               ;
            
             
               VVhose
               River
               forc'd
               Geometry
               on
               Men
               ,
            
             
               VVhich
               did
               distinguish
               what
               the
               Nyle
               o're-flow'd
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               41.
               
            
             
               Near
               them
               ,
               in
               Piles
               ,
               Chaldean
               Cos'ners
               lie
               ;
            
             
               Who
               the
               hid
               bus'ness
               of
               the
               Stars
               relate
               ;
            
             
               Who
               make
               a
               Trade
               of
               worshipp'd
               Prophesie
               ;
            
             
               And
               seem
               to
               pick
               the
               Cabinet
               of
               Fate
               .
            
          
           
             
               42.
               
            
             
               There
               
                 Persian
                 Magi
              
               stand
               ,
               for
               wisdom
               prais'd
               ;
            
             
               Long
               since
               wise
               States-men
               ,
               now
               Magicians
               thought
               ;
            
             
               Altars
               and
               Arts
               are
               soo●
               to
               fiction
               rais'd
               ,
            
             
               And
               both
               would
               have
               ,
               that
               miracles
               are
               wrought
               .
            
          
           
             
               43.
               
            
             
               In
               a
               dark
               Text
               ,
               these
               States-men
               left
               their
               Minds
               ;
            
             
               For
               well
               they
               knew
               ,
               that
               Monarch's
               Misterie
            
             
               (
               Like
               that
               of
               Priests
               )
               but
               little
               rev'rence
               finds
               ,
            
             
               When
               they
               the
               Curtain
               ope
               to
               ev'ry
               Eye
               .
            
          
           
             
               44.
               
            
             
               Behind
               this
               Throng
               ,
               the
               talking
               Greeks
               had
               place
               ;
            
             
               Who
               Nature
               turn'd
               to
               Art
               ,
               and
               Truth
               disguise
               ,
            
             
               As
               skill
               does
               native
               beautie
               oft
               deface
               ;
            
             
               With
               Terms
               they
               charm
               the
               weak
               ,
               and
               pose
               the
               wise
               .
            
          
           
             
               45.
               
            
             
               Now
               they
               the
               
                 Hebrew
                 ,
                 Greek
              
               ,
               and
               Roman
               spie
               ;
            
             
               Who
               for
               the
               Peoples
               ease
               ,
               yoak'd
               them
               with
               Law
               ;
            
             
               Whom
               else
               ,
               ungovern'd
               lusts
               would
               drive
               awrie
               ;
            
             
               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
               Misterie
               ;
            
             
               So
               clearest
               springs
               ,
               when
               troubled
               ,
               cloudie
               grow
               .
            
          
           
             
               47.
               
            
             
               But
               here
               ,
               the
               Souls
               chief
               Book
               did
               all
               precede
               ;
            
             
               Our
               Map
               tow'rds
               heav'n
               to
               common
               Crowds
               deny'd
               ;
            
             
               VVho
               proudly
               aym
               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
               reach'd
               them
               from
               their
               unfrequented
               Seat.
               
            
          
           
             
               49.
               
            
             
               For
               a
               deep
               Dust
               (
               which
               Time
               does
               softly
               shed
               ,
            
             
               Where
               onely
               Time
               does
               come
               )
               their
               Covers
               bear
               ;
            
             
               On
               which
               ,
               grave
               Spiders
               ,
               streets
               of
               webs
               have
               spred
               ;
            
             
               Subtle
               ,
               and
               slight
               ,
               as
               the
               grave
               Writers
               were
               .
            
          
           
             
               50.
               
            
             
               In
               these
               ,
               Heav'ns
               holy
               fire
               does
               vainly
               burn
               ;
            
             
               Nor
               warms
               ,
               nor
               lights
               ,
               but
               is
               in
               sparkles
               spent
               ,
            
             
               Where
               froward
               Authours
               ,
               with
               disputes
               ,
               have
               torn
            
             
               The
               Garment
               seamless
               as
               the
               Firmament
               .
            
          
           
             
               51.
               
            
             
               These
               are
               the
               old
               Polemicks
               ,
               long
               since
               read
               ,
            
             
               And
               shut
               by
               Astragon
               ;
               who
               thought
               it
               just
               ,
            
             
               They
               ,
               like
               the
               Authours
               (
               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
               survay
               ,
            
             
               From
               the
               World's
               first
               ,
               and
               greater
               second
               Guide
               .
            
          
           
             
               53.
               
            
             
               The
               Curious
               much
               perus'd
               this
               ,
               then
               ,
               new
               Book
               ;
            
             
               As
               if
               some
               secret
               ways
               to
               Heav'n
               it
               taught
               ;
            
             
               For
               straying
               from
               the
               old
               ,
               men
               newer
               look
               ,
            
             
               And
               prise
               the
               found
               ,
               not
               finding
               those
               they
               sought
               .
            
          
           
             
               54.
               
            
             
               We
               ,
               in
               Tradition
               (
               Heav'ns
               dark
               Map
               )
               descrie
            
             
               Heav'n
               worse
               than
               ancient
               Maps
               far
               Indian
               show
               ;
            
             
               Therefore
               in
               new
               ,
               we
               search
               where
               Heav'n
               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
               prise
               ;
            
             
               Truth
               ,
               the
               discov'ry
               made
               by
               trav'ling
               Minds
               .
            
          
           
             
               56.
               
            
             
               And
               this
               false
               Book
               ,
               till
               truly
               understood
            
             
               By
               Astragon
               ,
               was
               openly
               display'd
            
             
               As
               counterfeit
               ,
               false
               Princes
               ,
               rather
               shou'd
            
             
               Be
               shewn
               abroad
               ,
               than
               in
               closs
               Prison
               laid
               .
            
          
           
             
               57.
               
            
             
               Now
               to
               the
               old
               Philosophers
               they
               come
               ;
            
             
               Who
               follow'd
               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
               publick
               dwell
               ;
            
             
               At
               se●
               ,
               at
               Courts
               ,
               in
               Camps
               ,
               and
               Cities
               live
               ,
            
             
               And
               scorn
               experience
               from
               th'unpractis'd
               Cell
               .
            
          
           
             
               59.
               
            
             
               Aesop
               with
               these
               stands
               high
               ,
               and
               they
               below
               ;
            
             
               His
               pleasant
               wisdom
               mocks
               their
               gravitie
               ;
            
             
               Who
               Virtue
               like
               a
               tedious
               Matron
               show
               ,
            
             
               He
               dresses
               Nature
               to
               invite
               the
               Eye
               .
            
          
           
             
               60.
               
            
             
               High
               skill
               their
               Ethicks
               seems
               whilst
               he
               stoops
               down
            
             
               To
               make
               the
               People
               wise
               ;
               their
               learned
               pride
            
             
               Makes
               all
               obscure
               ,
               that
               Men
               may
               prise
               the
               Gown
               ,
            
             
               With
               ease
               lie
               teaches
               ,
               what
               with
               pain
               they
               hide
               .
            
          
           
             
               61.
               
            
             
               And
               next
               (
               as
               if
               their
               bus'ness
               rul'd
               Mankind
               )
            
             
               Historians
               stand
               ,
               big
               as
               their
               living
               looks
               ;
            
             
               Who
               thought
               swift
               Time
               they
               could
               in
               fetters
               bind
               ;
            
             
               Till
               his
               Confessions
               they
               had
               ta'ne
               in
               books
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               62.
               
            
             
               But
               Time
               oft
               scap'd
               them
               in
               the
               shades
               of
               Night
               ;
            
             
               And
               was
               in
               Princes
               Closets
               oft
               conceal'd
               ,
            
             
               And
               hid
               in
               Battels
               smoke
               ;
               so
               what
               they
               write
            
             
               Of
               Courts
               and
               Camps
               ,
               is
               oft
               by
               guess
               reveal'd
               .
            
          
           
             
               63.
               
            
             
               Near
               these
               ,
               Physitians
               stood
               ;
               who
               but
               reprieve
            
             
               Life
               like
               a
               Judge
               ,
               whom
               greater
               pow'r
               doe●
               aw
               ▪
            
             
               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
               rob'd
               ,
               when
               first
               we
               are
               decay'd
               ,
            
             
               And
               those
               were
               murder'd
               whom
               her
               law
               did
               kill
               .
            
          
           
             
               65.
               
            
             
               Now
               they
               refresh
               ,
               after
               this
               long
               survay
               ,
            
             
               With
               pleasant
               Poets
               ,
               who
               the
               Soul
               sublime
               ;
            
             
               Fame's
               
                 Her
                 auids
              
               ,
               in
               whose
               Triumphs
               they
               make
               way
               ;
            
             
               And
               place
               all
               those
               whom
               Honour
               helps
               to
               climb
               .
            
          
           
             
               66.
               
            
             
               And
               he
               ,
               who
               seem'd
               to
               lead
               this
               ravish'd
               Race
               ,
            
             
               Was
               Heav'ns
               lov'd
               La●reat
               ,
               that
               in
               Jewry
               writ
               ;
            
             
               Whose
               Harp
               approach'd
               Gods
               Ear
               ,
               though
               none
               his
               Face
            
             
               Durst
               see
               ,
               and
               first
               made
               inspiration
               ,
               wit.
               
            
          
           
             
               67.
               
            
             
               And
               his
               Attendants
               ,
               such
               blest
               Poets
               are
               ,
            
             
               As
               make
               unblemish'd
               Love
               ,
               Courts
               best
               delight
               ;
            
             
               And
               sing
               the
               prosp'rous
               Battels
               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
                 Heav'n
                 his
                 duty
                 pays
              
               
                 In
                 Pray'r
                 ,
                 and
                 Penitence
                 ,
                 but
                 most
                 in
                 Praise
                 :
              
               
                 To
                 these
                 he
                 sev'ral
                 Temples
                 dedicates
                 :
              
               
                 And
                 ULFIN
                 their
                 distinguish'd
                 use
                 relates
                 .
              
               
                 Religion's
                 Rites
                 ,
                 seem
                 here
                 ,
                 in
                 Reasons
                 sway
                 ;
              
               
                 Though
                 Reason
                 must
                 Religion's
                 Laws
                 obay
                 .
              
            
          
           
             
               1.
               
            
             
               THe
               noble
               Youths
               (
               reclaim'd
               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
               uneasie
               make
               .
            
          
           
             
               2.
               
            
             
               But
               now
               a
               sudden
               Shout
               their
               thoughts
               diverts
               !
            
             
               So
               chearfull
               ,
               general
               ,
               and
               loud
               it
               was
               ,
            
             
               As
               pass'd
               through
               all
               their
               Ears
               ,
               and
               fill'd
               their
               Hearts
               ;
            
             
               Which
               lik'd
               the
               joy
               ,
               before
               they
               knew
               the
               cause
               .
            
          
           
             
               3.
               
            
             
               This
               Ulfin
               by
               his
               long
               Domestick
               skill
            
             
               Does
               thus
               explain
               ,
               The
               Wise
               I
               here
               observe
               ,
            
             
               Are
               wise
               tow'rds
               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
               dedicate
               ,
            
             
               To
               days
               of
               Praise
               ,
               of
               Penitence
               ,
               and
               Pray'r
               .
            
          
           
             
               5.
               
            
             
               To
               these
               ,
               from
               diff'rent
               motives
               ,
               all
               proceed
               ;
            
             
               For
               when
               discov'ries
               they
               on
               Nature
               gain
               ,
            
             
               They
               praise
               high
               Heav'n
               which
               makes
               their
               work
               succe
               〈…〉
            
             
               But
               when
               it
               falls
               ,
               in
               Penitence
               complain
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               6.
               
            
             
               ●f
               after
               Praise
               ,
               new
               blessings
               are
               not
               giv'n
               ,
            
             
               Nor
               mourning
               Penitence
               can
               ills
               repair
               ,
            
             
               Like
               practis'd
               Beggers
               ,
               they
               solicite
               Heav'n
               ,
            
             
               And
               will
               prevail
               by
               violence
               of
               Pray'r
               .
            
          
           
             
               7.
               
            
             
               The
               Temple
               built
               for
               Pray'r
               ,
               can
               neither
               boast
            
             
               The
               Builder's
               curious
               Art
               ,
               nor
               does
               declare
            
             
               By
               choice
               Materials
               he
               intended
               cost
               ;
            
             
               To
               shew
               ,
               that
               nought
               should
               need
               to
               tempt
               to
               Pray'r
               .
            
          
           
             
               8.
               
            
             
               No
               Bells
               are
               here
               !
               Unhing'd
               are
               all
               the
               Gates
               !
            
             
               Since
               craving
               in
               distress
               is
               natural
               ,
            
             
               All
               lies
               so
               ope
               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
               cover'd
               come
               ,
               in
               grave
               disguise
               ,
            
             
               To
               shew
               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
               perswade
               ;
            
             
               And
               we
               lamenting
               Men's
               continu'd
               fall
               ,
            
             
               Accuse
               what
               Nature
               necessary
               made
               .
            
          
           
             
               11.
               
            
             
               Since
               the
               requir'd
               extream
               of
               Penitence
            
             
               Seems
               so
               severe
               ,
               this
               Temple
               was
               design'd
               ,
            
             
               ●olemn
               and
               strange
               without
               ,
               to
               catch
               the
               sense
               ,
            
             
               And
               dismal
               shew'd
               within
               ,
               to
               aw
               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
               seem'd
               the
               Palace
               of
               Eternal
               Night
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               13.
               
            
             
               Black
               beauty
               (
               which
               black
               Meroens
               had
               prais'd
            
             
               Above
               their
               own
               )
               gravely
               adorn'd
               each
               part
               ;
            
             
               In
               Stone
               ,
               from
               Nyle's
               head
               Quarries
               ,
               slowly
               rais'd
               ,
            
             
               And
               slowlyer
               polish'd
               by
               
                 Numidi
                 an
              
               Art.
               
            
          
           
             
               14.
               
            
             
               Hither
               a
               loud
               Bells
               tole
               ,
               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
               design'd
               ;
            
             
               Man
               's
               evil
               fate
               seems
               hid
               and
               fashion'd
               here
               .
            
          
           
             
               16.
               
            
             
               Here
               all
               the
               Ornament
               is
               rev'rend
               black
               ;
            
             
               Here
               ,
               the
               check'd
               Sun
               his
               universal
               Face
            
             
               Stops
               bashfully
               ,
               and
               will
               no
               enterance
               make
               ;
            
             
               As
               if
               he
               spy'd
               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
               inform'd
               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
               Heav'n
               did
               rain
               .
            
          
           
             
               19.
               
            
             
               This
               on
               another
               Tablet
               did
               reflect
               ,
            
             
               Where
               twice
               was
               drawn
               the
               am'rous
               Magdaline
               ;
            
             
               Whilst
               beauty
               was
               her
               care
               ,
               then
               her
               neglect
               ;
            
             
               And
               brightest
               through
               her
               Tears
               she
               seem'd
               to
               shine
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               20.
               
            
             
               Near
               her
               ,
               seem'd
               crncifi'd
               ,
               that
               lucky
               Thief
            
             
               (
               In
               Heav'ns
               dark
               Lot'ry
               prosp'rous
               ,
               more
               than
               wife
               )
            
             
               Who
               groap'd
               at
               last
               ,
               by
               chance
               ,
               for
               Heav'ns
               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
               't
               was
               chiefly
               lin'd
               .
            
          
           
             
               22.
               
            
             
               The
               Seats
               were
               made
               of
               Ethiops
               swarthy
               wood
               ,
            
             
               Abstersive
               Ebony
               ,
               but
               thinly
               fill'd
               ;
            
             
               For
               none
               this
               place
               by
               nature
               understood
               ;
            
             
               And
               practise
               ,
               when
               unpleasant
               ,
               makes
               few
               skill'd
               .
            
          
           
             
               23.
               
            
             
               Yet
               these
               whom
               Heav'ns
               mysterious
               choice
               fetch'd
               in
               ,
            
             
               Quickly
               attain
               Devotion
               's
               utmost
               scope
               ;
            
             
               For
               having
               softly
               mourn'd
               away
               their
               sin
               ,
            
             
               They
               grow
               so
               certain
               ,
               as
               to
               need
               no
               Hope
               .
            
          
           
             
               24.
               
            
             
               At
               a
               low
               Door
               they
               enter'd
               ,
               but
               depart
            
             
               Through
               a
               large
               Gate
               ,
               and
               to
               fair
               Fields
               proceed
               ;
            
             
               Where
               Astragon
               makes
               Nature
               last
               by
               Art
               ,
            
             
               And
               such
               long
               Summers
               shews
               ,
               as
               ask
               no
               seed
               .
            
          
           
             
               25.
               
            
             
               Whilst
               Ulfin
               this
               black
               Temple
               thus
               exprest
            
             
               To
               these
               kind
               Youths
               ,
               whom
               equal
               soul
               endeers
               ;
            
             
               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
               Pray'r
               (
               said
               he
               )
               no
               Summons
               us
               invites
               ,
            
             
               Because
               distress
               does
               thither
               summon
               all
               )
            
             
               As
               the
               loud
               tole
               to
               Penitence
               excites
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               27.
               
            
             
               But
               since
               dull
               Men
               ,
               to
               gratitude
               are
               slow
               ,
            
             
               And
               joy'd
               consent
               of
               Hearts
               is
               high
               Heav'ns
               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
               Heav'n
               ,
               for
               his
               success
               ,
               on
               Nature
               pays
               ;
            
             
               This
               day
               ,
               Victorious
               Art
               ,
               has
               given
               him
               cause
               ,
            
             
               Much
               to
               augment
               Heav'ns
               lov'd
               reward
               of
               praise
               .
            
          
           
             
               29.
               
            
             
               For
               this
               effectual
               day
               his
               Art
               reveal'd
               ,
            
             
               What
               has
               so
               oft
               made
               Nature's
               spies
               to
               pine
               ,
            
             
               The
               Load-stones
               mystick
               use
               ,
               so
               long
               conceal'd
            
             
               In
               closs
               allyance
               with
               the
               courser
               Mine
               .
            
          
           
             
               30.
               
            
             
               And
               this
               in
               sleepy
               Vision
               ,
               he
               was
               bid
            
             
               To
               register
               in
               Characters
               unknown
               ;
            
             
               Which
               Heav'n
               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
               needfull
               were
               )
            
             
               From
               Vices
               sprung
               from
               their
               corruption
               ,
               fled
               ;
            
             
               And
               thence
               vouchsaf'd
               a
               cold
               Plantation
               here
               ;
            
          
           
             
               32.
               
            
             
               So
               when
               they
               here
               again
               corrupted
               be
               ,
            
             
               (
               For
               Man
               can
               even
               his
               Antidotes
               insect
               )
            
             
               Heav'ns
               reserv'd
               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
               scorn'd
               deformitie
               )
               will
               thither
               steer
               ;
            
             
               Serv'd
               at
               fit
               distance
               by
               the
               Arts
               ,
               her
               Maids
               ,
            
             
               Which
               grow
               too
               bold
               ,
               when
               they
               attend
               too
               neer
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               34.
               
            
             
               And
               some
               ,
               whom
               Traffick
               thither
               tempts
               ,
               shall
               thence
            
             
               In
               her
               exchange
               (
               though
               they
               did
               grudge
               her
               shrines
               ,
            
             
               And
               poorly
               banish'd
               her
               to
               save
               expence
               )
            
             
               Bring
               home
               the
               Idol
               ,
               Gold
               ,
               from
               new-found
               Mines
               .
            
          
           
             
               35.
               
            
             
               Till
               then
               ,
               sad
               Pilots
               must
               be
               often
               lost
               ,
            
             
               VVhilst
               from
               the
               Ocean's
               dreaded
               Face
               they
               shrink
               ;
            
             
               And
               seeking
               safetie
               near
               the
               cos'ning
               Coast
               ,
            
             
               VVith
               winds
               surpris'd
               ,
               by
               Rockie
               Ambush
               sink
               .
            
          
           
             
               36
            
             
               Or
               if
               success
               rewards
               ,
               what
               they
               endure
               ,
            
             
               The
               VVorlds
               chief
               Jewel
               ,
               Time
               ,
               they
               then
               ingage
            
             
               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
               lower'd
               Sayls
               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
               sayls
               out
               ,
               as
               Arms
               to
               entertain
            
             
               Those
               winds
               ,
               of
               which
               their
               Fathers
               were
               afraid
               .
            
          
           
             
               39.
               
            
             
               Then
               (
               sure
               of
               either
               Pole
               )
               they
               will
               with
               pride
               ,
            
             
               In
               ev'ry
               storm
               ,
               salute
               this
               constant
               Stone
               !
            
             
               And
               scorn
               that
               Star
               ,
               which
               ev'ry
               Cloud
               could
               hide
               ;
            
             
               The
               Sea-men's
               spark
               !
               which
               soon
               ,
               as
               seen
               ,
               is
               gone
               !
            
          
           
             
               40.
               
            
             
               'T
               is
               sung
               ,
               the
               Ocean
               shall
               his
               bonds
               untie
               ,
            
             
               And
               Earth
               in
               half
               a
               Globe
               be
               pent
               no
               more
               ;
            
             
               Typhis
               shall
               sail
               ,
               till
               Thube
               he
               discrie
               ,
            
             
               But
               a
               domestick
               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
               travail'd
               soul
               ,
               new
               Worlds
               did
               seek
               ,
            
             
               And
               div'd
               to
               find
               the
               old
               Atlantis
               drown'd
               .
            
          
           
             
               42.
               
            
             
               Grave
               Ulfin
               thus
               discours'd
               ;
               and
               now
               he
               brings
            
             
               The
               Youths
               to
               view
               the
               Temple
               built
               for
               Praise
               ;
            
             
               Where
               Olive
               ,
               for
               th'
               Olimpian
               Victor
               Springs
               ;
            
             
               Mirtle
               ,
               for
               Love's
               ;
               and
               for
               War's
               triumph
               ,
               Bays
               .
            
          
           
             
               43.
               
            
             
               These
               ,
               as
               rewards
               of
               praise
               about
               it
               grew
               ;
            
             
               For
               lib'ral
               praise
               from
               an
               aboundant
               Mind
            
             
               Does
               even
               the
               Conqueror
               of
               Fate
               subdue
               ;
            
             
               Since
               Heav'n's
               good
               King
               is
               Captive
               to
               the
               Kind
               .
            
          
           
             
               44.
               
            
             
               Dark
               are
               all
               Thrones
               to
               what
               this
               Temple
               seem'd
               ,
            
             
               Whose
               Marble
               veins
               out-shin'd
               Heav'n's
               various
               Bow
               ;
            
             
               And
               would
               (
               eclipsing
               all
               proud
               Rome
               esteem'd
               )
            
             
               To
               Northern
               Eies
               ,
               like
               Eastern
               Mornings
               show
               .
            
          
           
             
               45.
               
            
             
               From
               Paros
               I●le
               ,
               was
               brought
               the
               milkie
               white
               ;
            
             
               From
               Sparta
               ,
               came
               the
               Green
               ,
               which
               cheers
               the
               view
               ;
            
             
               From
               Araby
               ,
               the
               blushing
               ●ni●hite
               ,
            
             
               And
               from
               the
               Misnian
               Hills
               ,
               the
               deeper
               Blew
               .
            
          
           
             
               46.
               
            
             
               The
               arched
               Front
               did
               on
               Vast
               Pillars
               fall
               ;
            
             
               Where
               all
               harmonious
               Instruments
               they
               spie
            
             
               Drawn
               out
               in
               Boss
               ;
               which
               from
               the
               Astrigall
            
             
               To
               the
               flat
               E●ise
               in
               apt
               resemblance
               lie
               .
            
          
           
             
               47.
               
            
             
               Toss'd
               Cymbals
               (
               which
               the
               sullen
               Jews
               admir'd
               )
            
             
               Were
               figur'd
               here
               ,
               with
               all
               of
               ancient
               choice
            
             
               That
               joy
               did
               ere
               invent
               ,
               or
               breath
               inspir'd
               ,
            
             
               Or
               flying
               Fingers
               touch'd
               into
               a
               voice
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               48.
               
            
             
               In
               Statue
               o're
               the
               Gate
               ,
               God's
               Fav'rite-King
            
             
               The
               author
               of
               Celestial
               praise
               )
               did
               stand
               ;
            
             
               His
               Quire
               (
               that
               did
               his
               sonnets
               set
               and
               Sing
               )
            
             
               In
               Niches
               rang'd
               ,
               attended
               either
               Hand
               .
            
          
           
             
               49.
               
            
             
               From
               these
               ,
               old
               Greeks
               sweet
               Musick
               did
               improve
               ;
            
             
               The
               Solemn
               Dorian
               did
               in
               Temples
               charm
               ,
            
             
               The
               softer
               Lydian
               sooth'd
               to
               Bridal
               Love
               ,
            
             
               And
               warlick
               Phrygian
               did
               to
               Battail
               warm
               !
            
          
           
             
               50.
               
            
             
               They
               enter
               now
               ,
               and
               with
               glad
               rev'rence
               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
            
             
               Unvayl'd
               before
               the
               Sun's
               Meridian
               Face
               :
            
          
           
             
               52.
               
            
             
               Whose
               Eastern
               lusture
               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
               feign'd
               Curtain
               does
               our
               Eies
               forbid
               ,
            
             
               Till
               the
               Sun's
               Parent
               ,
               Light
               ,
               first
               seem
               to
               dawn
            
             
               From
               quiet
               Chaos
               ,
               which
               that
               Curtain
               hid
               .
            
          
           
             
               54.
               
            
             
               Then
               this
               all-rev'renc'd
               Sun
               (
               God's
               hasty
               Spark
            
             
               Struck
               out
               of
               Chaos
               ,
               when
               he
               first
               struck
               Light
               )
            
             
               Flies
               to
               the
               Sphears
               ,
               where
               first
               he
               found
               all
               dark
               ,
            
             
               And
               kindled
               there
               th'unkindled
               Lamps
               of
               Night
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               55.
               
            
             
               Then
               Motion
               ,
               Nature's
               great
               Preservative
               ,
            
             
               Tun'd
               order
               in
               this
               World
               ,
               Life's
               restless
               Inn
               ;
            
             
               Gave
               Tydes
               to
               Seas
               ,
               and
               caus'd
               stretch'd
               Plants
               to
               live
               ;
            
             
               Else
               Plants
               but
               Seeds
               ,
               and
               Seas
               but
               Lakes
               had
               bin
               .
            
          
           
             
               56
            
             
               But
               this
               Fourth
               Fiat
               ,
               warming
               what
               was
               made
               ,
            
             
               (
               For
               Light
               ne'r
               warm'd
               ,
               till
               it
               did
               motion
               get
               )
            
             
               The
               Picture
               fills
               the
               World
               with
               woodie
               shade
               ;
            
             
               To
               shew
               how
               Nature
               thrives
               by
               Motion's
               heat
               .
            
          
           
             
               57.
               
            
             
               Then
               to
               those
               Woods
               the
               next
               quick
               Fiat
               brings
            
             
               The
               Feather'd
               kind
               ;
               where
               merrily
               they
               fed
               ,
            
             
               As
               if
               their
               Hearts
               were
               lighter
               than
               their
               Wings
               ;
            
             
               For
               yet
               no
               Cage
               was
               fram'd
               ,
               nor
               Net
               was
               spred
               .
            
          
           
             
               58.
               
            
             
               The
               same
               Fifth
               voice
               does
               Seas
               and
               Rivers
               Store
               ;
            
             
               Then
               into
               Rivers
               Brooks
               the
               Painter
               powres
               ,
            
             
               And
               Rivers
               into
               Seas
               ;
               which
               (
               rich
               before
               )
            
             
               Return
               their
               gifts
               ,
               to
               both
               exhal'd
               in
               Showrs
               .
            
          
           
             
               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
               )
            
             
               Ads
               to
               this
               World
               one
               Fiat
               ,
               as
               the
               last
               .
            
          
           
             
               60.
               
            
             
               Then
               straight
               an
               universal
               Herd
               appears
               ;
            
             
               First
               gazing
               on
               each
               other
               in
               the
               shade
               ;
            
             
               Wond'ring
               with
               levell'd
               Eyes
               ,
               and
               lifted
               Ears
               ,
            
             
               Then
               play
               ,
               whilst
               yet
               their
               Tyrant
               is
               unmade
               .
            
          
           
             
               61.
               
            
             
               And
               Man
               ,
               the
               Painter
               now
               presents
               to
               view
               ;
            
             
               Haughtie
               without
               ,
               and
               busie
               still
               within
               ;
            
             
               Whom
               ,
               when
               his
               Furr'd
               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
               Worlds
               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
               crie
               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
               Beautie
               then
               ,
               his
               Manhood
               does
               depose
               .
            
          
           
             
               65.
               
            
             
               Deep
               into
               shades
               the
               Painter
               leads
               them
               now
               ;
            
             
               To
               hide
               their
               future
               deeds
               ;
               then
               storms
               does
               raise
            
             
               Ore
               Heav'n's
               smooth
               face
               ,
               because
               their
               life
               does
               grow
            
             
               Too
               black
               a
               storie
               for
               the
               House
               of
               Praise
               .
            
          
           
             
               66.
               
            
             
               A
               noble
               painted
               Vision
               next
               appears
               ;
            
             
               Where
               all
               Heav'ns
               Frowns
               in
               distant
               prospect
               waste
               ;
            
             
               And
               nought
               remains
               ,
               but
               a
               short
               showre
               of
               Tears
               ,
            
             
               Shed
               ,
               by
               its
               pitie
               ,
               for
               Revenges
               past
               .
            
          
           
             
               67.
               
            
             
               The
               Worlds
               one
               Ship
               ,
               from
               th
               ▪
               old
               to
               a
               new
               World
               bound
               ,
            
             
               Fraighted
               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
               ,
            
             
               Griev'd
               to
               begin
               this
               World
               in
               th'
               others
               end
               ,
            
             
               And
               to
               behold
               wrack'd
               Nations
               on
               the
               Shore
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               69.
               
            
             
               Each
               humbled
               thus
               his
               Beasts
               led
               from
               aboard
               ,
            
             
               As
               fellow-Passengers
               ,
               and
               Heirs
               to
               breath
               ;
            
             
               Joynt
               Tenants
               to
               the
               VVorld
               ,
               he
               not
               their
               Lord
               ;
            
             
               Such
               likeness
               have
               we
               in
               the
               Glass
               of
               Death
               .
            
          
           
             
               70.
               
            
             
               Yet
               this
               humilitie
               begets
               their
               joy
               ;
            
             
               And
               taught
               ,
               that
               Heav'n
               (
               which
               fully
               sin
               survays
               )
            
             
               VVas
               partial
               where
               it
               did
               not
               quite
               destroy
               ;
            
             
               So
               made
               the
               whole
               VVorld'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
               respit
               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
               ;
            
             
               VVhen
               Hell
               he
               conquer'd
               in
               thy
               desp'rate
               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
               ;
            
             
               VVhere
               life
               
                 Came
                 out
              
               ,
               and
               Met
               the
               Painters
               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
               Rhethorick
               to
               praise
               perswade
               ;
            
             
               Yet
               to
               the
               living
               here
               ,
               compar'd
               ,
               seems
               hid
               ;
            
             
               VVho
               shine
               all
               painted
               Glory
               into
               shade
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               76.
               
            
             
               Lord
               Astragon
               a
               Purple
               Mantle
               wore
               ,
            
             
               Where
               Nature's
               storie
               was
               in
               Colours
               wrought
               ▪
            
             
               And
               though
               her
               ancient
               Text
               seem'd
               dark
               before
               ,
            
             
               'T
               is
               in
               this
               pleasant
               Comment
               clearly
               taught
               .
            
          
           
             
               77.
               
            
             
               Such
               various
               Flowrie
               Wreaths
               th'
               Assembly
               wear
               ,
            
             
               As
               shew'd
               them
               wisely
               proud
               of
               Natures
               pride
               ;
            
             
               Which
               so
               adorn'd
               them
               ,
               that
               the
               cour●est
               here
            
             
               Did
               seem
               a
               prosp'rous
               Bride-groom
               ,
               or
               a
               Bride
               .
            
          
           
             
               78.
               
            
             
               All
               shew'd
               as
               fresh
               ,
               and
               ●all
               ,
               and
               innocent
               ,
            
             
               As
               Virgins
               to
               their
               Lovers
               first
               survay
               ;
            
             
               Joy'd
               as
               the
               Spring
               ,
               when
               March
               his
               sighs
               has
               spent
               ,
            
             
               And
               April's
               sweet
               rash
               Tears
               are
               dry'd
               by
               May.
               
            
          
           
             
               79.
               
            
             
               And
               this
               confed'rate
               joy
               so
               swell'd
               each
               Breast
               ,
            
             
               That
               joy
               would
               turn
               to
               pain
               without
               a
               vent
               ▪
            
             
               Therefore
               their
               voices
               Heav'n's
               renown
               exprest
               ;
            
             
               Though
               Tongues
               ne'r
               reach
               ,
               what
               minds
               so
               nobly
               ment
               .
            
          
           
             
               80.
               
            
             
               Yet
               Musick
               here
               shew'd
               all
               her
               Art
               's
               high
               worth
               ;
            
             
               Whilst
               Virgin-Trebbles
               ,
               ●eem'd
               ,
               with
               bashfull
               grace
               ,
            
             
               To
               call
               the
               bolder
               marry'd
               Tenor
               forth
               ;
            
             
               Whose
               Manly
               voice
               challeng'd
               the
               Giant
               Base
               .
            
          
           
             
               81.
               
            
             
               To
               these
               the
               swift
               soft
               Instruments
               reply
               ;
            
             
               Whisp'ring
               for
               help
               to
               those
               whom
               winds
               inspire
               ;
            
             
               Whose
               louder
               Notes
               ,
               to
               Neighb'ring
               Forrests
               flie
               ,
            
             
               And
               summon
               Nature's
               Voluntarie
               Quire.
               
            
          
           
             
               82.
               
            
             
               These
               Astragon
               ,
               by
               secret
               skill
               had
               taught
               ,
            
             
               To
               help
               ,
               as
               if
               in
               artfull
               Consort
               bred
               ;
            
             
               Who
               sung
               ,
               as
               if
               by
               chance
               on
               him
               they
               thought
               ,
            
             
               Whose
               care
               their
               careless
               merry
               Fathers
               Fed.
               
            
          
           
             
             
               83.
               
            
             
               Hither
               ,
               with
               borrow'd
               strength
               ,
               Duke
               Gondibert
            
             
               Was
               brought
               ,
               which
               now
               his
               rip'ning
               wounds
               allow
               ;
            
             
               And
               high
               Heav'ns
               praise
               in
               musick
               of
               the
               heart
               ,
            
             
               He
               inward
               sings
               ,
               to
               pay
               a
               Victor's
               vow
               .
            
          
           
             
               84.
               
            
             
               Praise
               ,
               is
               devotion
               fit
               for
               mightie
               Minds
               !
            
             
               The
               diff'ring
               World's
               agreeing
               Sacrifice
               ;
            
             
               VVhere
               Heav'n
               divided
               Faiths
               united
               finds
               ;
            
             
               But
               Pray'r
               in
               various
               discord
               upward
               flies
               .
            
          
           
             
               85.
               
            
             
               For
               Pray'r
               the
               Ocean
               is
               ,
               where
               diversly
            
             
               Men
               steer
               their
               Course
               ,
               each
               to
               a
               sev'ral
               Coast
               ;
            
             
               VVhere
               all
               our
               int'rests
               so
               discordant
               be
               ,
            
             
               That
               half
               beg
               winds
               by
               which
               the
               rest
               are
               lost
               .
            
          
           
             
               86.
               
            
             
               By
               Penitence
               ,
               when
               we
               our selves
               forsake
               ,
            
             
               'T
               is
               but
               in
               wise
               design
               on
               pitious
               Heav'n
               ;
            
             
               In
               Praise
               we
               nobly
               give
               ,
               what
               God
               may
               take
               ,
            
             
               And
               are
               without
               a
               Beggers
               blush
               forgiv'n
               .
            
          
           
             
               87.
               
            
             
               It
               s
               utmost
               force
               ,
               like
               Powder
               's
               ,
               is
               unknown
               !
            
             
               And
               though
               weak
               Kings
               excess
               of
               Praise
               may
               fear
               ,
            
             
               Yet
               when
               't
               is
               here
               ,
               like
               Powder
               ,
               dang'rous
               grown
               ,
            
             
               Heav'ns
               Vault
               receives
               ,
               what
               would
               the
               Palace
               tear
               .
            
          
        
         
           
           
             CANTO
             the
             Seventh
             .
          
           
             
               The
               ARGUMENT
               .
            
             
               
                 The
                 Duke
                 's
                 wish'd
                 health
                 in
                 doubtfull
                 wounds
                 assur'd
                 ;
              
               
                 Who
                 gets
                 new
                 wounds
                 before
                 the
                 old
                 are
                 cur'd
                 :
              
               
                 Nature
                 in
                 BIRTHA
                 ,
                 Art's
                 weak
                 help
                 derides
                 ,
              
               
                 Which
                 strives
                 to
                 mend
                 ,
                 what
                 it
                 at
                 best
                 but
                 hides
                 ;
              
               
                 Shews
                 Nature's
                 courser
                 works
                 ,
                 so
                 hid
                 ,
                 more
                 course
                 ,
              
               
                 As
                 Sin
                 conceal'd
                 and
                 uncon●es●'d
                 ,
                 grows
                 worse
                 .
              
            
          
           
             
               1.
               
            
             
               LEt
               none
               our
               Lombard
               Authour
               rudely
               blame
               ,
            
             
               Who
               from
               the
               Story
               has
               thus
               long
               digrest
               ;
            
             
               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
               Pyr●l
               ,
               never
               heals
               .
            
          
           
             
               4.
               
            
             
               To
               Astragon
               ,
               Heav'n
               for
               succession
               gave
            
             
               One
               onely
               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
               Theam
               ;
            
             
               And
               her
               Minds
               beauty
               they
               would
               rather
               chuse
               ,
            
             
               Which
               did
               the
               light
               in
               Beautie
               's
               Lanthorn
               seem
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               6.
               
            
             
               She
               ne'r
               saw
               Courts
               ,
               yet
               Courts
               could
               have
               undone
            
             
               With
               untaught
               looks
               ,
               and
               an
               unpractis'd
               heart
               ;
            
             
               Her
               Nets
               ,
               the
               most
               prepar'd
               ,
               could
               never
               shun
               ;
            
             
               For
               Nature
               spred
               them
               in
               the
               scorn
               of
               Art.
               
            
          
           
             
               7.
               
            
             
               She
               never
               had
               in
               busie
               Cities
               bin
               ,
            
             
               Ne'r
               warm'd
               with
               hopes
               ,
               nor
               ere
               allay'd
               with
               fears
               ;
            
             
               Not
               seeing
               punishment
               ,
               could
               guess
               no
               Sin
               ;
            
             
               And
               Sin
               not
               seeing
               ,
               ne'r
               had
               use
               of
               tears
               .
            
          
           
             
               8.
               
            
             
               But
               here
               ▪
               her
               Father's
               precepts
               gave
               her
               skill
               ,
            
             
               Which
               with
               incessant
               bus'ness
               fill'd
               the
               Hours
               ;
            
             
               In
               spring
               ,
               she
               gather'd
               Blossoms
               for
               the
               Still
               ,
            
             
               In
               Autumn
               ,
               Berries
               ;
               and
               in
               Summer
               ,
               Flow'rs
               .
            
          
           
             
               9.
               
            
             
               And
               as
               kind
               Nature
               with
               calm
               diligence
            
             
               Her
               own
               free
               virtue
               silently
               employs
               ,
            
             
               Whilst
               she
               ,
               unheard
               ,
               does
               rip'ning
               growth
               dispence
               ,
            
             
               So
               were
               her
               virtues
               busie
               without
               noise
               .
            
          
           
             
               10.
               
            
             
               Whilst
               her
               great
               Mistress
               ,
               Nature
               ,
               thus
               she
               tends
               ,
            
             
               The
               busie
               Houshold
               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
               Flow'rs
               ,
               when
               Evening
               shuts
               her
               Eyes
               .
            
          
           
             
               12.
               
            
             
               The
               sooty
               Chymist
               (
               who
               his
               sight
               does
               waste
               ,
            
             
               Attending
               lesser
               Fires
               )
               she
               passing
               by
               ,
            
             
               Broke
               his
               lov'd
               Lymbick
               ,
               through
               enamour'd
               haste
               ,
            
             
               And
               let
               ,
               like
               common
               Dew
               ,
               th'
               Elixar
               flie
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               13.
               
            
             
               And
               here
               the
               grey
               ▪
               Philosophers
               resort
               ,
            
             
               Who
               all
               to
               her
               ,
               like
               crafty
               Courtiers
               ,
               bow
               ;
            
             
               Hoping
               for
               secrets
               now
               in
               Nature's
               Court
               ▪
            
             
               Which
               onely
               she
               (
               her
               fav'rite
               Maid
               )
               can
               know
               .
            
          
           
             
               14.
               
            
             
               These
               ,
               as
               the
               Lords
               of
               Science
               ,
               she
               respects
               ,
            
             
               And
               with
               famillar
               beams
               their
               age
               she
               chears
               ,
            
             
               Yet
               all
               those
               civil
               forms
               seem
               but
               neglec●s
            
             
               To
               what
               she
               shews
               ,
               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
               op'ning
               of
               his
               look
               ,
            
             
               And
               shews
               ,
               by
               haste
               ,
               obedience
               her
               delight
               ▪
            
          
           
             
               16.
               
            
             
               She
               makes
               (
               when
               she
               at
               distance
               to
               him
               bows
               )
            
             
               His
               int'rest
               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
               Flow'rs
               ,
               which
               she
               in
               mystick
               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
               Syres
               Example
               taught
               ,
            
             
               She
               serv'd
               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
               cleer'd
            
             
               Strew'd
               Leaves
               of
               Willow
               to
               refresh
               the
               air
               ,
            
             
               And
               with
               rich
               Fumes
               his
               sullen
               sences
               cheer'd
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               20.
               
            
             
               He
               that
               had
               serv'd
               ▪
               great
               Love
               with
               rev'rend
               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
               shook
               !
            
          
           
             
               22.
               
            
             
               Love
               he
               had
               lik'd
               ,
               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
               then
               it
               was
               ,
               when
               she
               did
               smile
               at
               Hearts
            
             
               Which
               Countrey
               Lovers
               wea●
               in
               bleeding
               Seals
               ▪
            
             
               Ask'd
               where
               his
               pretty
               Godhead
               found
               such
               Da●●s
               ,
            
             
               As
               make
               those
               wounds
               that
               onely
               Hymen
               heals
               .
            
          
           
             
               25.
               
            
             
               And
               this
               ,
               her
               ancient
               Maid
               ,
               with
               sharp
               complaint●
            
             
               Heard
               ,
               and
               rebuk'd
               ;
               shook
               her
               experienc'd
               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●
               injur'd
               Lovers
               had
               in
               ages
               past
               ▪
            
             
               The
               lucky
               Mirtle
               ,
               more
               than
               Willow
               worn
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               27.
               
            
             
               This
               grave
               rebuke
               ,
               Officious
               Memory
            
             
               Presents
               to
               Birtha's
               thought
               ;
               who
               now
               believ'd
            
             
               Such
               sighing
               Songs
               ,
               as
               tell
               why
               Lovers
               die
               ,
            
             
               And
               prais'd
               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
               seem'd
               ,
               or
               gone
               ,
            
             
               Or
               by
               confed'racie
               was
               useless
               made
               ;
            
          
           
             
               29.
               
            
             
               Or
               else
               some
               stranger
               did
               usurp
               its
               room
               ▪
            
             
               One
               so
               remote
               ,
               and
               new
               in
               ev'ry
               thought
               ,
            
             
               As
               his
               behaviour
               shews
               him
               not
               at
               home
               ,
            
             
               Nor
               the
               Guide
               sober
               that
               him
               thither
               brought
               .
            
          
           
             
               30.
               
            
             
               Yet
               with
               this
               forreign
               Heart
               ,
               she
               does
               begin
            
             
               To
               treat
               of
               Love
               ,
               her
               most
               unstudy'd
               Theam
               ;
            
             
               And
               like
               young
               conscienc'd
               Casuists
               ,
               thinks
               that
               sin
               ,
            
             
               Which
               will
               by
               talk
               and
               practise
               lawfull
               seem
               .
            
          
           
             
               31.
               
            
             
               With
               open
               Ears
               ,
               and
               ever-waking
               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
               Mirtle
               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
               lov'd
               of
               Angels
               kind
               ,
            
             
               Such
               as
               in
               holy
               Story
               were
               employ'd
            
             
               To
               the
               first
               Fathers
               from
               th'
               Eternal
               Mind
               ,
            
             
               And
               in
               short
               vision
               onely
               are
               enjoy'd
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               34.
               
            
             
               As
               Eagles
               then
               ,
               when
               nearest
               Heav'n
               they
               flie
               ;
            
             
               Of
               wild
               impossibles
               soon
               weary
               grow
               ;
            
             
               Feeling
               their
               bodies
               find
               no
               rest
               so
               high
               ,
            
             
               And
               therefore
               pea●ch
               on
               Earthly
               things
               below
               :
            
          
           
             
               35.
               
            
             
               So
               now
               she
               yields
               ;
               him
               she
               an
               Angel
               deem'd
            
             
               Shall
               be
               a
               Man
               ;
               the
               Name
               which
               Virgins
               fear
               ;
            
             
               Yet
               the
               most
               harmless
               to
               a
               Maid
               he
               seem'd
               ,
            
             
               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
               Heav'n
               ,
               though
               bashfully
               ,
               she
               does
               impart
               ;
            
             
               And
               to
               her
               Mother
               in
               the
               Heav'nly
               Quire.
               
            
          
           
             
               37.
               
            
             
               If
               I
               do
               love
               ,
               (
               said
               she
               )
               that
               love
               (
               O
               Heav'n
               !
               )
            
             
               Your
               own
               Disciple
               ,
               Nature
               ,
               bred
               in
               me
               ;
            
             
               Why
               should
               I
               hide
               the
               passion
               you
               have
               given
               ,
            
             
               Or
               blush
               to
               shew
               effects
               which
               you
               decree
               ?
            
          
           
             
               38.
               
            
             
               And
               you
               ,
               my
               alter'd
               Mother
               (
               grown
               above
            
             
               Great
               Nature
               ,
               which
               you
               read
               ,
               and
               rev'renc'd
               here
               )
            
             
               Chide
               not
               such
               kindness
               ,
               as
               you
               once
               call'd
               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
            
             
               Her self
               into
               possession
               of
               desires
               ,
            
             
               And
               trusts
               unanchor'd
               Hope
               in
               fleeting
               Streams
               .
            
          
           
             
               40.
               
            
             
               Already
               thinks
               ,
               the
               Duke
               her
               own
               spous'd
               Lord
               ,
            
             
               Cur'd
               ,
               and
               again
               from
               bloody
               battel
               brought
               ,
            
             
               Where
               all
               false
               Lovers
               perish'd
               by
               his
               sword
               ,
            
             
               The
               true
               to
               her
               for
               his
               protection
               sought
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               41.
               
            
             
               She
               thinks
               how
               her
               imagin'd
               Spouse
               and
               she
               ,
            
             
               So
               much
               from
               Heav'n
               ,
               may
               by
               her
               virtues
               gain
               ;
            
             
               That
               they
               by
               Time
               shall
               ne'r
               oretaken
               be
               ,
            
             
               No
               more
               than
               Time
               himself
               is
               overta'ne
               .
            
          
           
             
               42.
               
            
             
               Or
               should
               he
               touch
               them
               as
               he
               by
               does
               pass
               ,
            
             
               Heav'ns
               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
               Youthfull
               Warriours
               most
               excus'd
               disease
               )
            
             
               Such
               chance
               her
               Tears
               shall
               calm
               ,
               as
               showres
               allay
            
             
               The
               accidental
               rage
               of
               Winds
               and
               Seas
               .
            
          
           
             
               45.
               
            
             
               She
               thinks
               that
               Babes
               proceed
               from
               mingling
               Eyes
               ,
            
             
               Or
               Heav'n
               from
               Neighbourhood
               increase
               allows
               ,
            
             
               As
               Palm
               ,
               and
               the
               Mamora
               fructifies
               ;
            
             
               Or
               they
               are
               got
               ,
               by
               closs
               exchanging
               vows
               .
            
          
           
             
               46.
               
            
             
               But
               come
               they
               (
               as
               she
               hears
               )
               from
               Mothers
               pain
               ,
            
             
               (
               Which
               by
               th'
               unlucky
               first-Maids
               longing
               ,
               proves
            
             
               A
               lasting
               curse
               )
               yet
               that
               she
               will
               sustain
               ,
            
             
               So
               they
               be
               like
               this
               Heav'nly
               Man
               she
               loves
               .
            
          
           
             
               47.
               
            
             
               Thus
               to
               her self
               in
               day-dreams
               Birtha
               talks
               ;
            
             
               The
               Duke
               (
               whose
               wounds
               of
               war
               are
               healthfull
               grown
               )
            
             
               To
               cure
               Love's
               wounds
               ,
               seeks
               Birtha
               where
               she
               walks
               ▪
            
             
               Whose
               wandring
               Soul
               ,
               seeks
               him
               to
               cure
               her
               own
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               48.
               
            
             
               Yet
               when
               her
               solitude
               he
               did
               invade
               .
            
             
               Shame
               (
               which
               in
               Maids
               is
               unexperienc'd
               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
               aw'd
               ,
               and
               conquer'd
               Enemy
               ,
            
             
               That
               he
               did
               seem
               offenceless
               ,
               as
               her
               shame
               ;
            
             
               As
               if
               he
               but
               advanc'd
               for
               leave
               to
               flie
               .
            
          
           
             
               50.
               
            
             
               First
               with
               a
               longing
               Sea-mans
               look
               he
               gaz'd
               ,
            
             
               Who
               would
               ken
               Land
               ,
               when
               Seas
               would
               him
               devour
               ;
            
             
               Or
               like
               a
               fearfull
               Scout
               ,
               who
               stands
               amaz'd
            
             
               To
               view
               the
               Foe
               ,
               and
               multiplies
               their
               pow'r
               .
            
          
           
             
               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
               spake
               ,
               with
               trembling
               voice
               ,
            
             
               The
               world
               will-be
               (
               O
               thou
               ,
               the
               whole
               world's
               Maid
               !
               )
            
             
               Since
               now
               't
               is
               old
               enough
               to
               make
               wise
               choice
               ,
            
             
               Taught
               by
               thy
               mind
               ,
               and
               by
               thy
               beauty
               sway'd
               .
            
          
           
             
               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
               decay'd
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               55.
               
            
             
               And
               the
               Records
               so
               worn
               of
               her
               first
               Law
               ,
            
             
               That
               Men
               ,
               with
               Art's
               hard
               shifts
               ,
               read
               what
               is
               good
               ;
            
             
               Because
               your
               beautie
               many
               never
               saw
               ,
            
             
               The
               Text
               by
               which
               your
               Mind
               is
               understood
               .
            
          
           
             
               56.
               
            
             
               And
               I
               with
               the
               apostate
               world
               should
               grow
               ,
            
             
               From
               sov'reign
               Nature
               ,
               a
               revolted
               Slave
               ,
            
             
               But
               that
               my
               luckie
               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'r
               abstain
               ;
            
             
               But
               even
               in
               beautie
               ,
               cost
               of
               Courts
               did
               prise
               ,
            
             
               And
               Nature
               unassisted
               ,
               thought
               too
               plain
               .
            
          
           
             
               58.
               
            
             
               Yet
               by
               your
               beautie
               now
               reform'd
               ,
               I
               find
            
             
               All
               other
               onely
               currant
               by
               false
               light
               ;
            
             
               Or
               but
               vain
               Visions
               of
               a
               feav'rish
               mind
               ;
            
             
               Too
               slight
               to
               stand
               the
               test
               of
               waking
               sight
               .
            
          
           
             
               59.
               
            
             
               And
               for
               my
               healthfull
               Mind
               (
               diseas'd
               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
               propertie
               not
               less
               ,
            
             
               By
               my
               kind
               giving
               what
               was
               first
               your
               own
               .
            
          
           
             
               61.
               
            
             
               Lifted
               with
               Love
               ▪
               thus
               he
               with
               Lovers
               grace
               ,
            
             
               And
               Love's
               wild
               wonder
               ,
               spake
               ;
               and
               he
               was
               rais'd
            
             
               So
               much
               with
               rev'rence
               of
               this
               learned
               place
               ,
            
             
               That
               still
               he
               fear'd
               to
               injure
               all
               he
               prais'd
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               62.
               
            
             
               And
               she
               in
               love
               unpractis'd
               and
               unread
               ,
            
             
               (
               But
               for
               some
               hints
               her
               Mistress
               ,
               Nature
               ,
               taught
               )
            
             
               Had
               it
               ,
               till
               now
               ,
               like
               grief
               with
               silence
               fed
               ;
            
             
               For
               Love
               and
               grief
               are
               nourish'd
               best
               with
               thought
               .
            
          
           
             
               63.
               
            
             
               But
               this
               closs
               Diet
               Love
               endures
               not
               long
               ;
            
             
               He
               must
               in
               sighs
               ,
               or
               speech
               ,
               take
               ayr
               abroad
               ;
            
             
               And
               thus
               ,
               with
               his
               Interpreter
               ,
               her
               Tongue
               ,
            
             
               He
               ventures
               forth
               ,
               though
               like
               a
               stranger
               aw'd
               .
            
          
           
             
               64.
               
            
             
               She
               said
               ,
               those
               virtues
               now
               she
               highly
               needs
               ,
            
             
               Which
               he
               so
               pow'rfully
               does
               in
               her
               praise
               ,
            
             
               To
               check
               (
               since
               vanitie
               on
               praises
               feed
               )
            
             
               That
               pride
               ,
               which
               his
               authentick
               words
               may
               raise
               .
            
          
           
             
               65.
               
            
             
               That
               if
               her
               Pray'rs
               ,
               or
               care
               ,
               did
               ought
               restore
            
             
               Of
               absent
               health
               ,
               in
               his
               bemoan'd
               distress
               ;
            
             
               She
               beg'd
               ,
               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
               coyns
               unknown
               suspitiously
               we
               take
               ,
            
             
               And
               debts
               ,
               till
               manifest
               ,
               are
               never
               due
               .
            
          
           
             
               67.
               
            
             
               With
               bashfull
               Looks
               besought
               him
               to
               retire
               ,
            
             
               Lest
               the
               sharp
               Ayr
               should
               his
               new
               health
               invade
               ;
            
             
               And
               as
               she
               spake
               ,
               she
               saw
               her
               reverend
               Syre
            
             
               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
               imbrac'd
               his
               knees
               ;
               whilst
               he
               more
               low
            
             
               Does
               bend
               to
               him
               ,
               and
               then
               reach'd
               Birtha's
               hand
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               69.
               
            
             
               Her
               Face
               ,
               o
               recast
               with
               thought
               ,
               does
               soob●
               tray
            
             
               Th'
               assembled
               spirits
               ,
               which
               his
               Eies
               detect
            
             
               ●y
               her
               pale
               look
               ,
               as
               by
               the
               Milkie
               way
               ,
            
             
               Men
               first
               did
               the
               assembled
               Stars
               suspect
               .
            
          
           
             
               70.
               
            
             
               ●r
               as
               a
               Pris'ner
               ,
               that
               in
               Prison
               pines
               ,
            
             
               Still
               at
               the
               utmost
               window
               grieving
               lies
               ;
            
             
               Even
               so
               her
               Soul
               ,
               imprison'd
               ,
               sadly
               shines
               ,
            
             
               As
               if
               it
               watch'd
               for
               freedom
               at
               her
               Eys
               !
            
          
           
             
               71.
               
            
             
               This
               guides
               him
               to
               her
               P●lse
               ,
               th'
               Alarum
               Bell
               ,
            
             
               Which
               waits
               the
               insurrections
               of
               desire
               ;
            
             
               And
               rings
               so
               fast
               ,
               as
               if
               the
               Cittadell
               ,
            
             
               Her
               newly
               conquer'd
               Breast
               ,
               were
               all
               one
               fire
               !
            
          
           
             
               72.
               
            
             
               Then
               on
               the
               Duke
               ,
               he
               casts
               a
               short
               survay
               ;
            
             
               Whose
               Veins
               ,
               his
               Temples
               ,
               with
               deep
               purple
               grace
               ;
            
             
               Then
               Love's
               dispair
               gives
               them
               a
               pale
               allay
               ;
            
             
               And
               shifts
               the
               whole
               complexion
               of
               his
               Face
               .
            
          
           
             
               73.
               
            
             
               Nature's
               wise
               Spie
               does
               outward
               with
               them
               walk
               ;
            
             
               And
               finds
               ,
               each
               in
               the
               midst
               of
               thinking
               starts
               ;
            
             
               Breath'd
               short
               ,
               and
               swiftly
               in
               disoder'd
               talk
               ,
            
             
               To
               cool
               ,
               beneath
               Love's
               Torrid
               Zone
               ,
               their
               hearts
               ,
            
          
           
             
               74.
               
            
             
               When
               all
               these
               Symptones
               he
               observ'd
               ,
               he
               knows
            
             
               From
               Alga
               ,
               which
               is
               rooted
               deep
               in
               Seas
               ,
            
             
               To
               the
               high
               Cedar
               that
               on
               Mountains
               grows
               ,
            
             
               No
               sov'raign
               hearb
               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
               dismist
               ,
            
             
               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
               ore
               his
               Heart
               ,
            
             
               Great
               Love
               ,
               and
               his
               inferiour
               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
               disswade
               ,
            
             
               And
               midst
               Love's
               fears
               ,
               give
               courage
               to
               his
               Tongue
               .
            
          
           
             
               78.
               
            
             
               Then
               thus
               he
               spake
               with
               Love's
               humilitie
               ;
            
             
               Have
               pitie
               Father
               !
               and
               since
               first
               so
               kind
               ,
            
             
               You
               would
               not
               let
               this
               worthless
               Bodie
               die
               ,
            
             
               Vouchasafe
               more
               nobly
               to
               preserve
               my
               Mind
               !
            
          
           
             
               79.
               
            
             
               A
               Mind
               so
               lately
               luckie
               ,
               as
               it
               here
            
             
               Has
               Virtue
               's
               Mirrour
               found
               ,
               which
               does
               reflect
            
             
               Such
               blemishes
               as
               Custom
               made
               it
               wear
               ,
            
             
               But
               more
               authentick
               Nature
               does
               detect
               .
            
          
           
             
               80.
               
            
             
               A
               Mind
               long
               sick
               of
               Monarchs
               vain
               disease
               ;
            
             
               Not
               to
               be
               fill'd
               ,
               because
               with
               glorie
               fed
               ;
            
             
               So
               busie
               it
               condemn'd
               even
               War
               of
               Ease
               ,
            
             
               And
               for
               their
               useless
               rest
               despis'd
               the
               Dead
               .
            
          
           
             
               81.
               
            
             
               But
               since
               it
               here
               has
               Virtue
               quiet
               sound
               ,
            
             
               It
               thinks
               (
               though
               Storms
               were
               wish'd
               by
               it
               before
               )
            
             
               All
               sick
               at
               least
               at
               Sea
               ,
               that
               scape
               undrown'd
               ,
            
             
               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
               turn'd
               ,
               to
               satisfie
               with
               show
               ,
            
             
               Not
               God
               ,
               but
               his
               inferiour
               Eye
               ,
               the
               Sun.
               
            
          
           
             
             
               83.
               
            
             
               And
               yet
               ,
               though
               Virtue
               be
               as
               fashion
               sought
               ,
            
             
               And
               now
               Religion
               rules
               by
               Art's
               prais'd
               skill
               ;
            
             
               Fashion
               is
               Virtue
               's
               Mimmick
               ,
               falsly
               taught
               ,
            
             
               And
               Art
               ,
               but
               Nature's
               Ape
               ,
               which
               plays
               her
               ill
               .
            
          
           
             
               84.
               
            
             
               To
               this
               blest
               House
               (
               great
               Nature's
               Court
               )
               all
               Courts
            
             
               Compar'd
               ,
               are
               but
               dark
               Closets
               for
               retreat
            
             
               Of
               private
               Minds
               ,
               Battels
               but
               Childrens
               sports
               ;
            
             
               And
               onely
               simple
               good
               ,
               is
               solid
               Great
               .
            
          
           
             
               85.
               
            
             
               Let
               not
               the
               Mind
               ,
               thus
               freed
               from
               Errour
               's
               Night
               ,
            
             
               (
               Since
               you
               repriev'd
               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
               tow'rds
               all
               which
               Virtue
               can
               attain
               ;
            
             
               But
               if
               we
               perish
               ,
               when
               tow'rds
               Heav'n
               we
               go
               ,
            
             
               Then
               have
               I
               learnt
               that
               Virtue
               is
               in
               vain
               .
            
          
           
             
               87.
               
            
             
               And
               now
               his
               Heart
               (
               extracted
               through
               his
               Eyes
            
             
               In
               Love's
               Elixar
               ,
               Tears
               )
               does
               soon
               subdue
            
             
               Old
               Astragon
               ;
               whose
               pitie
               ,
               though
               made
               wise
            
             
               With
               Love's
               false
               Essences
               ,
               likes
               these
               as
               true
               .
            
          
           
             
               88.
               
            
             
               The
               Duke
               he
               to
               a
               secret
               Bowr
               does
               lead
               ,
            
             
               Where
               he
               his
               Youths
               first
               Storie
               may
               attend
               ;
            
             
               To
               guesse
               ,
               ere
               he
               will
               let
               his
               love
               proceed
               ;
            
             
               By
               such
               a
               dawning
               ,
               how
               his
               day
               will
               end
               .
            
          
           
             
               89.
               
            
             
               For
               Virtue
               ,
               though
               a
               rarely
               planted
               Flow'r
               ,
            
             
               Was
               in
               the
               seed
               now
               by
               this
               Florist
               known
               ;
            
             
               Who
               could
               foretel
               ,
               even
               in
               springing
               hour
               ,
            
             
               What
               colours
               she
               shall
               wear
               when
               fully
               blown
               .
            
          
        
         
           
           
             CANTO
             the
             Eighth
             .
          
           
             
               The
               ARGUMENT
               .
            
             
               
                 BIRTHA
                 her
                 first
                 unpractis'd
                 Love
                 bewails
                 ,
              
               
                 Whilst
                 GONDIBERT
                 on
                 ASTRAGON
                 prevails
                 ,
              
               
                 By
                 shewing
                 ,
                 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
               Heav'n
               were
               us'd
               to
               ra●●●
            
             
               Their
               voices
               ,
               whilst
               their
               busie
               Fingers
               wrought
            
             
               To
               deck
               the
               Altar
               of
               the
               House
               of
               Praise
               .
            
          
           
             
               2.
               
            
             
               But
               now
               she
               finds
               their
               Musick
               turn'd
               to
               care
               ;
            
             
               Their
               looks
               allay'd
               ,
               like
               beautie
               over-worn
               ;
            
             
               Silent
               and
               sad
               as
               with
               ring
               Fav'rites
               are
               ,
            
             
               Who
               for
               their
               sick
               indulgent
               Monarch
               mourn
               .
            
          
           
             
               3.
               
            
             
               Thula
               (
               the
               eldest
               of
               this
               silenc'd
               Quire
               )
            
             
               When
               Birtha
               at
               this
               change
               astonish'd
               was
               ,
            
             
               With
               hastie
               whisper
               ,
               begg'd
               her
               to
               retire
               ▪
            
             
               And
               on
               her
               knees
               thus
               tells
               their
               sorrows
               cause
               .
            
          
           
             
               4.
               
            
             
               Forgive
               me
               such
               experience
               ,
               as
               too
               soon
               ,
            
             
               Shew'd
               me
               unluckie
               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
               perswades
               ,
            
             
               And
               to
               my
               Tongue
               my
               observation
               brought
               ;
            
             
               And
               then
               forgive
               my
               Tongue
               ,
               which
               to
               your
               Maids
               ,
            
             
               Too
               rashly
               carry'd
               ,
               what
               Experience
               taught
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               6.
               
            
             
               For
               since
               I
               saw
               this
               wounded
               stranger
               here
               ,
            
             
               Your
               inward
               musick
               still
               untun'd
               has
               been
               ;
            
             
               You
               ,
               who
               could
               need
               no
               hope
               ,
               have
               learnt
               to
               feat
               ,
            
             
               And
               practis'd
               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
               flie
               .
            
          
           
             
               8.
               
            
             
               Love
               ,
               who
               in
               whisper
               scap'd
               ,
               did
               publick
               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
               fill'd
               their
               Heads
               ;
            
             
               And
               while
               they
               doubt
               you
               in
               that
               Tyrant's
               pow'r
               ,
            
             
               The
               Spring
               (
               they
               think
               )
               may
               visit
               Woods
               and
               Meads
               ,
            
             
               But
               scarce
               shall
               hear
               a
               Bird
               ,
               or
               see
               a
               Flow'r
               .
            
          
           
             
               10.
               
            
             
               Ah
               how
               (
               said
               Birtha
               )
               shall
               I
               dare
               confess
            
             
               My
               griefs
               to
               thee
               ,
               Love's
               rash
               ,
               impatient
               Spie
               ;
            
             
               Thou
               (
               Thula
               )
               who
               didst
               r●●
               to
               tell
               thy
               guess
               ,
            
             
               With
               secrets
               known
               ,
               wilt
               to
               confession
               flie
               .
            
          
           
             
               11.
               
            
             
               But
               if
               I
               love
               this
               Prince
               ,
               and
               have
               in
               Heav'n
            
             
               Made
               any
               Friends
               by
               vows
               ,
               you
               need
               not
               fear
            
             
               He
               will
               make
               good
               the
               feature
               ,
               Heav'n
               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
               ,
               inrag'd
               by
               ev'ry
               wind
               ,
            
             
               And
               all
               who
               to
               their
               Bosoms
               trust
               ,
               devour
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               26.
               
            
             
               Howere
               Heav'n
               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
               Stils
               ,
               are
               all
               forgot
               .
            
          
           
             
               28.
               
            
             
               Blossoms
               in
               winds
               ,
               Berries
               in
               Frosts
               may
               fall
               !
            
             
               And
               Flow'rs
               sink
               down
               in
               Rain
               !
               For
               I
               no
               more
            
             
               Shall
               Maids
               to
               woods
               ,
               for
               early
               gath'rings
               call
               ,
            
             
               No●
               haste
               to
               Gardens
               to
               prevent
               a
               showre
               .
            
          
           
             
               29.
               
            
             
               This
               said
               ,
               retires
               ;
               and
               now
               a
               lovely
               shame
            
             
               That
               she
               reveal'd
               so
               much
               ,
               possess'd
               her
               Cheeks
               ;
            
             
               In
               a
               dark
               Lanthorn
               she
               would
               bear
               Love's
               flame
               ,
            
             
               To
               hide
               her self
               ,
               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
               reach'd
               such
               worth
               ,
               and
               he
               so
               old
               .
            
          
           
             
               31.
               
            
             
               Yet
               Birtha
               was
               so
               precious
               in
               his
               Eyes
               ,
            
             
               Her
               vanish'd
               Mother
               still
               so
               near
               his
               mind
               ,
            
             
               That
               farther
               yet
               he
               thus
               his
               prudence
               tries
               ,
            
             
               Ere
               such
               a
               Pledge
               he
               to
               his
               trust
               resign'd
               .
            
          
           
             
               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
               battels
               early
               finds
            
             
               What
               thoughtless
               lazy
               Men
               perceive
               too
               late
               ;
            
             
               Books
               shew
               the
               utmost
               conquests
               of
               our
               Minds
               ;
            
             
               Battels
               ,
               the
               best
               of
               our
               lov'd
               Bodies
               fate
               .
            
          
           
             
               21.
               
            
             
               Yet
               this
               great
               breeding
               ,
               joyn'd
               with
               Kings
               high
               blood
            
             
               (
               Whose
               blood
               Ambition's
               feaver
               over-heats
               )
            
             
               May
               spoil
               digestion
               ,
               which
               would
               else
               be
               good
               ,
            
             
               As
               stomachs
               are
               deprav'd
               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
               turn'd
               to
               wind
               ;
            
             
               And
               what
               should
               nourish
               ,
               on
               the
               Eater
               feeds
               .
            
          
           
             
               23.
               
            
             
               Though
               Wars
               great
               shape
               best
               educates
               the
               sight
               ,
            
             
               And
               makes
               small
               soft'ning
               objects
               less
               our
               care
               ;
            
             
               Yet
               War
               ,
               when
               urg'd
               for
               glory
               ,
               more
               than
               right
               ,
            
             
               Shews
               Victors
               but
               authentick
               Murd'rers
               are
               .
            
          
           
             
               24.
               
            
             
               And
               I
               may
               fear
               that
               your
               last
               victories
               ,
            
             
               Where
               Glory's
               Toyls
               ,
               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
               Fortunes
               smiles
               ,
               foretel
               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
               Rhodalin'd
               with
               Subjects
               Eyes
               ,
            
             
               Whom
               he
               that
               conquers
               ,
               must
               in
               right
               obay
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               27.
               
            
             
               And
               though
               I
               humanely
               have
               heretofore
            
             
               All
               beauty
               lik'd
               ,
               I
               never
               lov'd
               till
               now
               ;
            
             
               Nor
               think
               a
               Crown
               can
               raise
               his
               value
               more
               ,
            
             
               To
               whom
               already
               Heav'n
               does
               Love
               allow
               .
            
          
           
             
               28.
               
            
             
               Though
               ,
               since
               I
               gave
               the
               Hunns
               their
               last
               defeat
               ,
            
             
               I
               have
               the
               Lombards
               Ensigns
               outward
               led
               ,
            
             
               Ambition
               kindled
               not
               this
               Victors
               heat
               ,
            
             
               But
               't
               is
               a
               warmth
               my
               Fathers
               prudence
               bred
               .
            
          
           
             
               29.
               
            
             
               Who
               cast
               on
               more
               than
               Wolvish
               Man
               his
               Eye
               ,
            
             
               Man's
               necessary
               hunger
               judg'd
               ,
               and
               saw
            
             
               That
               caus'd
               not
               his
               devouring
               Maladie
               ;
            
             
               But
               like
               a
               wanton
               whelp
               he
               loves
               to
               gnaw
               .
            
          
           
             
               30.
               
            
             
               Man
               still
               is
               sick
               for
               pow'r
               ,
               yet
               that
               disease
            
             
               Nature
               (
               whose
               Law
               is
               Temp'rance
               )
               ne'r
               inspires
               ;
            
             
               But
               't
               is
               a
               humour
               ,
               does
               his
               Manship
               please
               ,
            
             
               A
               luxury
               ,
               fruition
               onely
               tires
               .
            
          
           
             
               31.
               
            
             
               And
               as
               in
               persons
               ,
               so
               in
               publick
               States
               ,
            
             
               The
               lust
               of
               Pow'r
               provokes
               to
               cruel
               war
               ;
            
             
               For
               wisest
               Senates
               it
               intoxicates
               ,
            
             
               And
               makes
               them
               vain
               ,
               as
               single
               persons
               are
               .
            
          
           
             
               32.
               
            
             
               Men
               into
               Nations
               it
               did
               first
               divide
               ;
            
             
               Whilst
               place
               ,
               scarce
               distant
               ,
               gives
               them
               diff'rent
               stiles
               ;
            
             
               Rivers
               ,
               whose
               breadth
               Inhabi●ants
               may
               stride
               ,
            
             
               Parts
               them
               as
               much
               as
               Continents
               ,
               and
               Isles
               .
            
          
           
             
               33.
               
            
             
               On
               equal
               ,
               smooth
               ,
               and
               undistinguish'd
               Ground
               ,
            
             
               The
               lust
               of
               pow'r
               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
               womens
               dress
               )
               and
               oft
               Complexions
               are
               ,
            
             
               And
               diff'rent
               names
               ,
               no
               less
               a
               cause
               of
               fou●
               .
            
          
           
             
               35.
               
            
             
               Since
               Men
               so
               causelesly
               themselves
               devour
               ,
            
             
               (
               And
               hast'ning
               still
               ,
               their
               else
               too
               hasty
               Fates
               ,
            
             
               Act
               but
               continu'd
               Massacres
               for
               pow'r
               ,
               )
            
             
               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
               design'd
               ,
            
             
               And
               though
               some
               fighting
               Kings
               so
               sever'd
               are
               ,
            
             
               That
               they
               must
               meet
               by
               help
               of
               Seas
               and
               wind
               ,
            
             
               Yet
               when
               they
               fight
               ,
               't
               is
               but
               a
               civil
               war.
               
            
          
           
             
               38.
               
            
             
               Nor
               could
               Religions
               heat
               ,
               if
               one
               rul'd
               all
               ,
            
             
               To
               bloody
               war
               the
               unconcern'd
               allure
               ;
            
             
               And
               hasten
               us
               from
               Earth
               ,
               ere
               Age
               does
               call
               ;
            
             
               Who
               are
               (
               alas
               )
               of
               Heav'n
               so
               little
               sure
               .
            
          
           
             
               39.
               
            
             
               Religion
               ,
               ne'r
               till
               divers
               Monarchies
               ,
            
             
               Taught
               that
               almighty
               Heav'n
               needs
               Armies
               aid
               ;
            
             
               But
               with
               contentious
               Kings
               she
               now
               complies
               ,
            
             
               Who
               seem
               for
               their
               own
               cause
               ,
               of
               God's
               afraid
               .
            
          
           
             
               40.
               
            
             
               To
               joyn
               all
               sever'd
               Pow'rs
               (
               which
               is
               to
               end
            
             
               The
               cause
               of
               War
               )
               my
               Father
               onward
               fought
               ;
            
             
               By
               war
               the
               Lombard
               Scepter
               to
               extend
            
             
               Till
               peace
               were
               forc'd
               ,
               where
               it
               was
               slowly
               sought
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               41.
               
            
             
               He
               lost
               in
               this
               attempt
               his
               last
               dear
               blood
               ;
            
             
               And
               I
               (
               whom
               no
               remoteness
               can
               deterre
               ,
            
             
               If
               what
               seems
               difficult
               ,
               be
               great
               and
               good
               )
            
             
               Thought
               his
               Example
               could
               not
               make
               me
               erre
               .
            
          
           
             
               42.
               
            
             
               No
               place
               I
               merit
               in
               the
               Book
               of
               Fame
               !
            
             
               Whose
               leaves
               are
               by
               the
               Greeks
               and
               Romans
               fill'd
               ;
            
             
               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
               pursu'd
               ,
               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
               feel'd
               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
               recompence
               is
               rest
               ;
            
             
               And
               't
               is
               unjust
               ,
               that
               Chiefs
               who
               pleasure
               shun
               ,
            
             
               Toyling
               in
               Youth
               ,
               should
               be
               in
               Age
               opprest
            
             
               With
               greater
               Toyls
               ,
               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
               suffic'd
               )
               perceiv'd
            
             
               How
               nobly
               Heav'n
               for
               Birtha
               did
               provide
               ;
            
             
               O●t
               had
               he
               for
               her
               vanish'd
               Mother
               griev'd
               ,
            
             
               ●ut
               ●an
               this
               joy
               ,
               less
               than
               that
               sorrow
               hide
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               48.
               
            
             
               With
               tears
               ,
               bids
               Gondibert
               to
               Heav'ns
               Eye
               make
            
             
               All
               good
               within
               ,
               as
               to
               the
               World
               he
               seems
               ;
            
             
               And
               in
               gain'd
               Birtha
               then
               from
               Hymen
               take
            
             
               All
               youth
               can
               wish
               ,
               and
               all
               his
               age
               esteems
               .
            
          
           
             
               49.
               
            
             
               Straight
               to
               his
               lov'd
               Philosophers
               he
               hies
               ,
            
             
               Who
               now
               at
               Nature's
               Counsel
               busie
               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
               stay'd
               ,
            
             
               Who
               in
               a
               closs
               dark
               Covert
               folds
               his
               Arms
               ;
            
             
               His
               Eyes
               with
               thought
               grow
               darker
               than
               that
               shade
               ,
            
             
               Such
               thought
               as
               brow
               and
               breast
               with
               study
               warms
               .
            
          
           
             
               51.
               
            
             
               Fix'd
               to
               unheeded
               object
               is
               his
               Eye
               ▪
            
             
               His
               sences
               he
               calls
               in
               ,
               as
               if
               t'
               improve
            
             
               By
               outward
               absence
               inward
               extasie
               ,
            
             
               Such
               as
               makes
               Prophets
               ,
               or
               is
               made
               by
               Love.
               
            
          
           
             
               52.
               
            
             
               Awake
               (
               said
               Gondibert
               )
               for
               now
               in
               vain
            
             
               Thou
               dream'st
               of
               sov'reignty
               ▪
               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
               Armie
               's
               Chief
               ,
            
             
               Whom
               unintrench'd
               ,
               a
               midnight
               Larum
               wakes
               ,
            
             
               By
               pawse
               then
               gave
               disorder'd
               sence
               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
               Heav'ns
               Lamps
               ,
               in
               darkness
               sit
               ,
            
             
               And
               war
               become
               the
               lowly
               Shepheard'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
               Dukes
               swi●t
               anger
               to
               his
               Eyes
               ;
            
             
               Which
               his
               consid'rate
               Heart
               rebuk'd
               as
               fast
               ;
            
             
               He
               Goltho
               chid
               ,
               in
               that
               he
               nought
               replies
               ;
            
             
               Leaves
               him
               ,
               and
               Birtha
               seeks
               with
               Lovers
               haste
               .
            
          
           
             
               59.
               
            
             
               Now
               Goltho
               mourns
               ,
               yet
               not
               that
               Birtha's
               fair
               ;
            
             
               Or
               that
               the
               Duke
               shuns
               Empire
               for
               a
               Bride
               ,
            
             
               But
               that
               himself
               must
               joyn
               love
               to
               despair
               ;
            
             
               Himself
               who
               loves
               her
               ,
               and
               his
               love
               must
               hide
               .
            
          
           
             
               60.
               
            
             
               He
               curs'd
               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
               unus'd
               to
               love
               ,
               as
               bred
               in
               wars
               ,
            
             
               And
               not
               till
               now
               for
               be●uty
               leasure
               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
               ore-flow
               at
               home
               ;
            
             
               Such
               griefs
               ,
               as
               thus
               in
               Throngs
               for
               utt'rance
               press
               .
            
          
           
             
               63.
               
            
             
               Forgive
               me
               that
               so
               falsly
               am
               thy
               Friend
               !
            
             
               No
               more
               our
               Hearts
               for
               kindness
               shall
               contest
               ;
            
             
               Since
               mine
               I
               hourly
               on
               another
               spend
               ,
            
             
               And
               now
               imbrace
               thee
               with
               an
               empty
               brest
               .
            
          
           
             
               64.
               
            
             
               Yet
               pard'ning
               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
               comly
               did
               appear
               ,
            
             
               Whilst
               she
               beheld
               our
               wounded
               Duke's
               distress
               ;
            
             
               Then
               first
               my
               alter'd
               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
               unarm'd
               ;
            
             
               I
               lack'd
               experience
               why
               to
               be
               afraid
               ,
            
             
               Was
               too
               unlearn'd
               to
               read
               how
               Love
               had
               harm'd
               ,
            
             
               But
               have
               his
               will
               as
               Nature's
               law
               obay'd
               .
            
          
           
             
               68.
               
            
             
               Th'obedient
               and
               defenceless
               ,
               sure
               ;
               no
               law
            
             
               Afflicts
               ,
               for
               law
               is
               their
               defence
               ,
               and
               pow'r
               ;
            
             
               Yet
               me
               ,
               Loves
               sheep
               ,
               whom
               rigour
               needs
               not
               aw
               ,
            
             
               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
               temp'rance
               thus
               replies
               :
            
          
           
             
               71.
               
            
             
               Ah
               Goltho
               !
               who
               Love's
               Feaver
               can
               asswage
               ?
            
             
               For
               though
               familiar
               seems
               that
               old
               disease
               ;
            
             
               Yet
               like
               Religion's
               fit
               ,
               when
               Peoples
               rage
               ,
            
             
               Few
               cure
               those
               evils
               which
               the
               Patient
               please
               .
            
          
           
             
               72.
               
            
             
               Natures
               Religion
               ,
               Love
               ,
               is
               still
               perverse
               ;
            
             
               And
               no
               commerce
               with
               cold
               discretion
               hath
               ,
            
             
               For
               if
               Discretion
               speak
               when
               Love
               is
               fierce
               ,
            
             
               'T
               is
               wav'd
               by
               Love
               ,
               as
               Reason
               is
               by
               Faith.
               
            
          
           
             
               73.
               
            
             
               As
               Gondibert
               left
               Goltho
               when
               he
               heard
               ▪
            
             
               His
               Saint
               profan'd
               ,
               as
               if
               some
               Plague
               were
               nigh
               ;
            
             
               So
               Goltho
               now
               leaves
               Ulfinore
               ,
               and
               fear'd
            
             
               To
               share
               such
               veng'ance
               ,
               if
               he
               did
               not
               flie
               .
            
          
           
             
               74.
               
            
             
               How
               each
               at
               home
               ore-rates
               his
               miserie
               ,
            
             
               And
               thinks
               that
               all
               are
               musical
               abroad
               ,
            
             
               Unfetter'd
               as
               the
               Winds
               ,
               whilst
               onely
               he
            
             
               Of
               all
               the
               glad
               and
               licenc'd
               world
               is
               aw'd
               ?
            
          
           
             
               75.
               
            
             
               And
               as
               Cag'd
               Birds
               are
               by
               the
               Fowler
               set
            
             
               To
               call
               in
               more
               ,
               whilst
               those
               that
               taken
               be
               ,
            
             
               May
               think
               ▪
               (
               though
               they
               are
               Pris'ners
               in
               the
               Net
               )
            
             
               Th'incag'd
               ,
               because
               they
               ne'r
               complain
               ,
               are
               free
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               76.
               
            
             
               So
               Goltho
               (
               who
               by
               Ulfinore
               was
               brought
            
             
               Here
               where
               he
               first
               Love's
               dangers
               did
               perceive
            
             
               In
               Beautie
               '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
               Heav'n's
               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
               possest
               .
            
          
           
             
               79.
               
            
             
               For
               Ulfinore
               (
               in
               blooming
               honour
               yet
               )
            
             
               Though
               he
               had
               learnt
               the
               count'nance
               of
               the
               Foe
               ,
            
             
               And
               though
               his
               courage
               could
               dull
               Armies
               whet
               ,
            
             
               The
               care
               ore
               Crouds
               ,
               nor
               Conduct
               could
               not
               know
               ;
            
          
           
             
               80.
               
            
             
               Nor
               varie
               Battels
               shapes
               in
               the
               Foes
               view
               ;
            
             
               But
               now
               in
               forreign
               Fields
               means
               to
               improve
            
             
               His
               early
               Arts
               ,
               to
               what
               his
               Father
               knew
               ,
            
             
               That
               merit
               ●o
               might
               get
               him
               leave
               to
               love
               .
            
          
           
             
               81.
               
            
             
               Till
               then
               ,
               check'd
               passion
               ,
               shall
               not
               venture
               forth
               :
            
             
               And
               now
               retires
               with
               a
               disorder'd
               Heart
               ;
            
             
               Griev'd
               ,
               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
               day-light
               lack
               ;
            
             
               Or
               as
               misguided
               Travellers
               that
               rove
               ,
            
             
               Oft
               find
               their
               way
               by
               going
               somewhat
               back
               ;
            
             
               So
               let
               's
               return
               ,
               thou
               ill
               Conductour
               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
               Lab'rinths
               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
               Deitie
            
             
               The
               Croud
               does
               follow
               thee
               )
               misterious
               grows
               :
            
             
               For
               Rhodalind
               may
               now
               closs
               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
            
             
               Orecast
               their
               Morn
               ,
               what
               ere
               their
               Evening
               proves
               .
            
          
           
             
               87.
               
            
             
               For
               fatal
               Laura
               trustie
               Tybalt
               pines
               ;
            
             
               For
               haughtie
               Gartha
               ,
               ●ubtle
               Hermegild
               ;
            
             
               Whilst
               she
               her
               beautie
               ,
               youth
               ,
               and
               birth
               declines
               ;
            
             
               And
               as
               to
               Fate
               ,
               does
               to
               Ambition
               yield
               .
            
          
           
             
               88.
               
            
             
               Great
               Gondibert
               ,
               to
               bashfull
               Birtha
               bends
               ;
            
             
               Whom
               she
               adores
               like
               Virtue
               in
               a
               Throne
               ;
            
             
               Whilst
               Ulfinore
               ,
               and
               Goltho
               (
               late
               vow'd
               Friends
            
             
               By
               him
               )
               are
               now
               his
               Rivals
               ,
               and
               their
               own
               .
            
          
           
             
               89.
               
            
             
               Through
               ways
               thus
               intricate
               to
               Lovers
               Urns
               ,
            
             
               Thou
               lead'st
               me
               ,
               Love
               ,
               to
               shew
               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
               fam'd
               Ashes
               spy'd
               ;
            
             
               But
               less
               can
               learn
               by
               knowing
               they
               are
               dead
               ,
            
             
               And
               such
               their
               Tombes
               ;
               than
               how
               they
               liv'd
               and
               dy'd
               .
            
          
           
             
               91.
               
            
             
               To
               Paphos
               flie
               !
               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
             Authour
             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
                 cur'd
                 :
              
               
                 Their
                 loyal
                 loves
                 by
                 marriage
                 plight
                 assur'd
                 .
              
               
                 In
                 LAURA'S
                 hasty
                 change
                 ,
                 Love's
                 pow'r
                 appears
                 ,
              
               
                 And
                 TYBALT
                 seeks
                 the
                 kindness
                 which
                 he
                 fears
                 .
              
            
          
           
             
               1.
               
            
             
               WHen
               sad
               Verona
               saw
               in
               Gartha's
               shape
               (
               prais'd
               ;
            
             
               Departed
               Peace
               brought
               back
               ,
               the
               Court
               they
            
             
               And
               seem'd
               so
               joy'd
               as
               Cities
               which
               escape
            
             
               A
               Siege
               ,
               even
               by
               their
               own
               brave
               Sallys
               rais'd
               .
            
          
           
             
               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
               desir'd
            
             
               From
               Hubert's
               Camp
               )
               with
               Childish
               Eyes
               they
               gaze
               ;
            
             
               They
               worship
               now
               ,
               what
               late
               they
               but
               admir'd
               ,
            
             
               And
               all
               his
               Arts
               to
               mightie
               Magick
               raise
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               4.
               
            
             
               On
               both
               they
               such
               a
               〈…〉
               t
               Bl●●●ings
               throw
               ,
            
             
               As
               if
               those
               num'rous
               Priests
               who
               here
               reside
               ,
            
             
               (
               Loath
               to
               out-live
               this
               joy
               )
               assembled
               now
            
             
               In
               haste
               to
               bless
               the
               ●ayti●
               e'r●
               they
               ●yd
               ▪
               .
            
          
           
             
               5.
               
            
             
               Thus
               dignify'd
               ,
               and
               ●rown'd
               through
               all
               the
               Streets
            
             
               To
               Court
               they
               come
               ;
               where
               them
               wi●e
               Aribert
            
             
               Not
               weakly
               with
               a
               publick
               passion
               meets
               ;
            
             
               But
               in
               his
               open'd
               Face
               conceal'd
               his
               heart
               .
            
          
           
             
               6.
               
            
             
               With
               mod'rate
               joy
               he
               took
               this
               Pledge
               of
               Peace
               ,
            
             
               Because
               great
               joys
               infer
               to
               judging
               Eys
               ▪
            
             
               The
               mind
               distress'd
               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
               succesfull
               Lovers
               kind
               .
            
          
           
             
               8.
               
            
             
               And
               Rhodalind
               ,
               though
               bred
               to
               daily
               sight
            
             
               Of
               Courts
               feign'd
               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
               faign'd
               ;
            
             
               But
               faithfully
               her
               former
               rage
               excus'd
               ;
            
             
               For
               now
               she
               others
               sorrows
               entertain'd
               ,
            
             
               As
               if
               to
               love
               ,
               a
               Maid's
               first
               sorrow
               us'd
               ,
            
          
           
             
               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
               publick
               love
               with
               bashfull
               homage
               took
               ,
            
             
               For
               she
               had
               learn'd
               from
               Hermegild
               to
               hide
            
             
               A
               rising
               Heart
               ,
               behind
               a
               falling
               Look
               .
            
          
           
             
               12.
               
            
             
               Thus
               ,
               mask'd
               with
               meekness
               ,
               she
               does
               much
               intreat
            
             
               A
               pardon
               for
               that
               Storm
               her
               sorrow
               rais'd
               ;
            
             
               Which
               Rhodalind
               more
               fues
               she
               would
               forget
               ,
            
             
               Unless
               to
               have
               so
               just
               a
               sorrow
               prais'd
               .
            
          
           
             
               13.
               
            
             
               Soon
               is
               this
               joy
               through
               all
               the
               Court
               dispers'd
               ;
            
             
               So
               high
               they
               vallue
               peace
               ,
               who
               daily
               are
            
             
               In
               Prides
               invasions
               ,
               private
               faction
               ,
               vers'd
               ;
            
             
               The
               small
               ,
               but
               fruitfull
               seed
               of
               publick
               war.
               
            
          
           
             
               14.
               
            
             
               Whilst
               thus
               sweet
               Peace
               had
               others
               joys
               assur'd
               ,
            
             
               Orna
               with
               hopes
               of
               sweeter
               Love
               was
               pleas'd
               ;
            
             
               For
               of
               war's
               wounds
               brave
               Hurgonil
               was
               cur'd
               ;
            
             
               And
               those
               of
               love
               ,
               which
               deeper
               reach'd
               ,
               were
               ●as'd
               .
            
          
           
             
               15.
               
            
             
               In
               both
               these
               cures
               her
               Sov'raign
               help
               appears
               ,
            
             
               Since
               as
               her
               double
               Patient
               he
               receiv'd
            
             
               For
               War's
               wounds
               ,
               Balm
               ,
               dropp'd
               in
               her
               precious
               tears
               ,
            
             
               And
               Love's
               ,
               her
               more
               accepted
               vows
               ,
               reliev'd
               .
            
          
           
             
               16.
               
            
             
               She
               let
               no
               medc'nal
               Flow'r
               in
               quiet
               grow
               ,
            
             
               No
               Art
               lie
               hid
               ,
               nor
               Artist
               ease
               his
               thought
               ,
            
             
               No
               Fane
               be
               shut
               ,
               no
               Priest
               from
               Altars
               go
               ,
            
             
               Nor
               in
               Heav'n's
               Quire
               no
               Saint
               remain
               unsought
               ,
            
          
           
             
               17.
               
            
             
               Nor
               more
               her
               Eys
               could
               ease
               of
               sleep
               esteem
            
             
               Than
               sleep
               can
               the
               world's
               Eye
               ,
               the
               Sun
               ,
               conceal
               ;
            
             
               Nor
               breath'd
               she
               but
               in
               vows
               to
               Heav'n
               ,
               or
               him
               ,
            
             
               Till
               Heav'n
               ,
               and
               she
               ,
               his
               diff'rent
               wounds
               did
               heal
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               18.
               
            
             
               But
               now
               she
               needs
               those
               ayds
               she
               did
               dispence
               ;
            
             
               For
               scarce
               her
               cures
               were
               on
               him
               perfect
               grown
               ,
            
             
               E're
               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
               Feaver
               burn'd
               ,
            
             
               Invok'd
               remotest
               aydes
               to
               his
               redress
               ,
            
             
               And
               with
               a
               loud
               ungovern'd
               kindness
               mourn'd
               .
            
          
           
             
               20.
               
            
             
               When
               o're
               him
               then
               ,
               whilst
               parting
               life
               She
               ru'd
               ,
            
             
               Her
               kisses
               saster
               (
               though
               unknown
               before
               )
            
             
               Then
               Blossoms
               fall
               on
               parting
               Spring
               ,
               she
               strew'd
               ;
            
             
               Than
               Blossoms
               sweeter
               ,
               and
               in
               number
               more
               .
            
          
           
             
               21.
               
            
             
               But
               now
               when
               from
               her
               busie
               Maid
               she
               knew
            
             
               How
               wildly
               Grief
               had
               led
               her
               Love
               abroad
               ,
            
             
               Unmask'd
               to
               all
               ,
               she
               her
               own
               Pris'ner
               grew
               ;
            
             
               By
               shame
               ,
               a
               Virgin
               's
               Native
               Conscience
               ,
               aw'd
               .
            
          
           
             
               22.
               
            
             
               With
               undirected
               Eies
               which
               careless
               rove
               ,
            
             
               With
               thoughts
               too
               singly
               to
               her self
               confin'd
               ,
            
             
               She
               blushing
               starts
               at
               her
               remember'd
               love
               ,
            
             
               And
               grievs
               the
               world
               had
               Eyes
               ,
               when
               that
               was
               blind
               .
            
          
           
             
               23.
               
            
             
               Sad
               darkness
               ,
               which
               does
               other
               Virgins
               fright
               ,
            
             
               Now
               boldly
               and
               alone
               ,
               she
               entertain'd
               ;
            
             
               And
               shuns
               her
               Lover
               ,
               like
               the
               Traytor
               ,
               light
               ,
            
             
               Till
               he
               her
               curtains
               drew
               ,
               and
               thus
               complain'd
               .
            
          
           
             
               24.
               
            
             
               Why
               ,
               bashfull
               Maid
               ,
               will
               you
               your
               beauty
               hide
               ,
            
             
               Because
               your
               fairer
               Mind
               ,
               your
               Love
               ,
               is
               known
               ?
            
             
               So
               Jewellers
               conceal
               with
               artfull
               pride
            
             
               Their
               second
               wealth
               ,
               after
               the
               best
               is
               shown
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               25.
               
            
             
               In
               pity's
               passion
               you
               unvail'd
               your
               mind
               ;
            
             
               Let
               him
               not
               fall
               ,
               whom
               you
               did
               help
               to
               climb
               ;
            
             
               Nor
               seem
               by
               being
               bashfull
               so
               unkind
               ,
            
             
               As
               if
               you
               think
               your
               pity
               was
               a
               crime
               .
            
          
           
             
               26.
               
            
             
               O
               useless
               shame
               !
               Officious
               bashfulness
               !
            
             
               Virtues
               vain
               sign
               ,
               which
               onely
               there
               appears
            
             
               Where
               Virtue
               grows
               erroneous
               by
               excess
               ,
            
             
               And
               shapes
               more
               sins
               ,
               than
               frighted
               Conscience
               fears
               .
            
          
           
             
               27.
               
            
             
               Your
               blushes
               ,
               which
               to
               meer
               complexion
               grow
               ,
            
             
               You
               must
               ,
               as
               Nature
               ,
               not
               as
               Virtue
               own
               ;
            
             
               And
               for
               your
               open'd
               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
               bashfull
               Eyes
               )
               we
               may
               believe
            
             
               Does
               blush
               for
               what
               she
               sees
               through
               Night's
               thin
               shade
               ,
            
             
               As
               that
               you
               can
               for
               love
               discover'd
               grieve
               .
            
          
           
             
               29.
               
            
             
               Arise
               !
               and
               all
               the
               Flow'rs
               of
               ev'ry
               Mead
            
             
               (
               Which
               weeping
               through
               your
               Stils
               my
               health
               restor'd
               )
            
             
               ●ring
               to
               the
               Temple
               to
               adorn
               your
               Head
               ,
            
             
               And
               there
               where
               you
               did
               worship
               ,
               be
               ador'd
               .
            
          
           
             
               30.
               
            
             
               ●his
               with
               a
               low
               regard
               (
               but
               voice
               rais'd
               high
            
             
               By
               joys
               of
               Love
               )
               he
               spake
               ;
               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
               shew'd
               ,
               by
               some
               chill
               griefs
               ,
               her
               Sun
               was
               gone
               ,
            
             
               Arnold
               ,
               from
               whom
               she
               Life
               's
               short
               glory
               took
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               32.
               
            
             
               Like
               Winter
               ,
               Hermegild
               ;
               yet
               not
               so
               gray
            
             
               And
               cold
               ,
               but
               that
               his
               fashion
               seem'd
               to
               boast
               ,
            
             
               That
               even
               weak
               Winter
               is
               allow'd
               some
               day
               ,
            
             
               And
               the
               Air
               clear
               ,
               and
               healthfull
               in
               a
               Frost
               .
            
          
           
             
               33.
               
            
             
               All
               these
               ,
               and
               Tybalt
               too
               (
               unless
               a
               Spie
            
             
               He
               be
               ,
               watching
               who
               th●ives
               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
               adde
               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
               strewings
               Maids
               left
               Gardens
               bare
               ,
            
             
               As
               Lovers
               wish
               their
               sweeter
               Bosoms
               were
               ,
            
             
               When
               hid
               unkindly
               by
               dis
               ▪
               shevell'd
               Hair.
               
            
          
           
             
               36.
               
            
             
               And
               Orna
               now
               (
               importun'd
               to
               possess
               ▪
            
             
               Her
               long
               wish'd
               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
               med'cine
               need
               ;
            
             
               So
               soon
               societie
               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
               shew
               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
               embrae't
               ;
            
             
               Custom
               ,
               which
               all
               ,
               rather
               than
               Law
               obay
               ,
            
             
               For
               Laws
               by
               force
               ,
               Customs
               ,
               by
               pleasure
               last
               .
            
          
           
             
               40.
               
            
             
               And
               wisely
               Ancients
               by
               this
               needfull
               snare
            
             
               Of
               guilded
               joys
               ,
               did
               hide
               such
               bitterness
            
             
               As
               most
               in
               marriage
               swallow
               with
               that
               care
               ,
            
             
               Which
               bashfully
               the
               wise
               will
               ne'r
               confess
               .
            
          
           
             
               41.
               
            
             
               'T
               is
               Sates-mens
               musick
               ,
               who
               States
               Fowle●s
               be
               ,
            
             
               And
               singing
               Birds
               ,
               to
               catch
               the
               wilder
               ,
               set
               ;
            
             
               So
               bring
               in
               more
               to
               tame
               societie
               ;
            
             
               For
               wedlock
               ,
               to
               the
               wild
               ,
               is
               the
               States
               Net.
               
            
          
           
             
               42.
               
            
             
               And
               this
               loud
               joy
               ,
               before
               the
               marriage
               Rites
               ,
            
             
               Like
               Battels
               Musick
               which
               to
               fights
               prepare
               ,
            
             
               Many
               to
               strise
               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
               Roles
               ;
               though
               he
               from
               Lovers
               Eyes
            
             
               Hides
               his
               most
               Tragick
               stories
               of
               the
               Dead
               ,
            
             
               Lest
               all
               ,
               like
               Goths
               ,
               should
               'gainst
               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
               Hymens
               publick
               hand
               ,
               confirm'd
               their
               choice
               ,
            
             
               A
               cruel
               practise
               did
               their
               peace
               invade
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               46.
               
            
             
               For
               Hermegild
               ,
               too
               studiously
               foresaw
            
             
               The
               Counts
               alliànce
               with
               the
               Duke
               's
               high
               blood
               ,
            
             
               Might
               from
               the
               Lombards
               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
               hallow'd
               Torch
               may
               not
               take
               fire
               ,
            
             
               When
               all
               these
               lesser
               lights
               of
               joy
               are
               spent
               .
            
          
           
             
               48.
               
            
             
               High
               Heav'n
               (
               from
               whose
               best
               Lights
               your
               beauty
               grows
               ,
            
             
               Born
               high
               ,
               as
               highest
               Minds
               )
               preserve
               you
               still
            
             
               From
               such
               ,
               who
               then
               appears
               resistless
               Foes
               ,
            
             
               When
               they
               allyance
               joyn
               to
               Arms
               and
               Skill
               !
            
          
           
             
               49.
               
            
             
               Most
               by
               conjunction
               Planets
               harmfull
               are
               ;
            
             
               So
               Rivers
               joyning
               overflow
               the
               Land
               ,
            
             
               And
               Forces
               joyn'd
               make
               that
               destructive
               war
               ,
            
             
               Which
               else
               our
               common
               conduct
               may
               withstand
               .
            
          
           
             
               50.
               
            
             
               Their
               Knees
               to
               Hurgonil
               the
               People
               bow
            
             
               And
               worship
               Orna
               in
               her
               Brothers
               right
               ;
            
             
               They
               must
               be
               sever'd
               ,
               or
               like
               Palms
               will
               grow
               ,
            
             
               Which
               planted
               near
               ,
               out-climb
               their
               native
               hight
               .
            
          
           
             
               51.
               
            
             
               As
               Winds
               ,
               whose
               violence
               out-does
               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
               past
               )
            
             
               Like
               winds
               will
               silence
               Tongues
               ,
               and
               scape
               from
               Eyes
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               53.
               
            
             
               Ere
               this
               dark
               lesson
               she
               was
               clearer
               taught
               ,
            
             
               His
               enter'd
               Slaves
               place
               at
               her
               rev'renc'd
               Feet
            
             
               A
               spacious
               Cabinet
               ,
               with
               all
               things
               fraught
               ,
            
             
               Which
               seem'd
               for
               wearing
               artfull
               ,
               rich
               ,
               and
               sweet
               .
            
          
           
             
               54.
               
            
             
               With
               leisurely
               delight
               ,
               she
               by
               degrees
            
             
               Lifts
               ev'ry
               Till
               ,
               does
               ev'ry
               Drawer
               draw
               ,
            
             
               But
               nought
               which
               to
               her
               Sex
               belongs
               she
               sees
               ;
            
             
               And
               for
               the
               Male
               all
               nice
               adornments
               saw
               .
            
          
           
             
               55.
               
            
             
               This
               seem'd
               to
               breed
               some
               strangeness
               in
               her
               Eyes
               ,
            
             
               Which
               like
               a
               wanton
               wonder
               there
               began
               ;
            
             
               But
               straight
               she
               in
               the
               lower
               Closet
               spies
            
             
               Th'accomplish'd
               dress
               ,
               and
               Garments
               of
               a
               Man.
               
            
          
           
             
               56.
               
            
             
               Then
               starting
               ,
               she
               her
               Hand
               shrunk
               nicely
               back
               ,
            
             
               As
               if
               she
               had
               been
               stung
               ;
               or
               that
               she
               fear'd
            
             
               This
               Garment
               was
               the
               skin
               of
               that
               old
               Snake
               ,
            
             
               Which
               at
               the
               fatal
               Tree
               like
               Man
               appear'd
               .
            
          
           
             
               57.
               
            
             
               Th'
               ambitious
               Maid
               at
               scornfull
               distance
               stood
               ,
            
             
               And
               bravely
               seem'd
               of
               Love's
               low
               vices
               free
               ;
            
             
               Though
               vicious
               in
               her
               mind
               ,
               not
               in
               her
               blood
               :
            
             
               Ambition
               is
               the
               Minds
               immodestie
               !
            
          
           
             
               58.
               
            
             
               He
               knew
               great
               minds
               disorder'd
               by
               mistake
               ,
            
             
               Defend
               through
               pride
               ,
               the
               errours
               they
               repent
               ;
            
             
               And
               with
               a
               Lovers
               fearfulness
               he
               spake
            
             
               Thus
               humbly
               ,
               that
               extreams
               he
               might
               prevent
               .
            
          
           
             
               59.
               
            
             
               How
               ill
               (
               delightfull
               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
               fear'd
               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
               int'rest
               will
               impose
               ;
            
             
               And
               solid
               int'rest
               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
               chuse
               .
            
          
           
             
               63.
               
            
             
               If
               you
               approve
               what
               Numbers
               lawfull
               think
               ,
            
             
               Be
               bold
               ,
               for
               Number
               cancels
               bashfulness
               ;
            
             
               Extreams
               ,
               from
               which
               a
               King
               would
               blushing
               shrink
               ,
            
             
               Unblushing
               Senates
               act
               as
               no
               excess
               .
            
          
           
             
               64.
               
            
             
               Thus
               he
               his
               thoughts
               (
               the
               picture
               of
               his
               mind
               )
            
             
               By
               a
               dark
               Vayl
               to
               sudden
               sight
               deny'd
               ;
            
             
               That
               she
               might
               prise
               ,
               what
               seem'd
               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
               Pow'r
               (
               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
               endeer'd
               ;
            
             
               For
               the
               unthinking
               Croud
               judge
               by
               their
               sight
               ,
            
             
               And
               seem
               half
               eas'd
               ,
               when
               they
               are
               fully
               heard
               .
            
          
           
             
               68.
               
            
             
               He
               shuts
               her
               breast
               even
               from
               familiar
               Eyes
               ;
            
             
               For
               he
               who
               secrets
               (
               Pow'rs
               chief
               Treasure
               )
               spends
            
             
               To
               purchase
               Friendship
               ,
               friendship
               dearly
               buys
               :
            
             
               Since
               Pow'r
               seeks
               great
               Confed'rates
               ,
               more
               than
               friends
               .
            
          
           
             
               69.
               
            
             
               And
               now
               with
               Counsels
               more
               particular
               ,
            
             
               He
               taught
               her
               how
               to
               wear
               tow'rds
               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
               practis'd
               Eyes
            
             
               Can
               more
               detect
               the
               shape
               of
               forward
               love
               )
            
             
               By
               treaty
               caught
               ,
               though
               not
               by
               a
               surprize
               ;
            
             
               Whose
               aid
               would
               precious
               to
               her
               faction
               prove
               .
            
          
           
             
               71.
               
            
             
               But
               here
               he
               ends
               his
               Lecture
               ,
               for
               he
               spy'd
            
             
               (
               Adorn'd
               ,
               as
               if
               to
               grace
               Magnifick
               Feasts
               )
            
             
               Bright
               Rhodalind
               ,
               with
               the
               elected
               Bride
               ;
            
             
               And
               with
               the
               Bride
               ,
               all
               her
               selected
               Guests
               .
            
          
           
             
               72.
               
            
             
               They
               Gartha
               in
               their
               civil
               pitie
               sought
               ,
            
             
               Whom
               they
               in
               midst
               of
               triumphs
               mis'd
               ,
               and
               fear
            
             
               Lest
               her
               full
               breast
               (
               with
               Huberts
               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
               worser
               Treason
               lies
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               74.
               
            
             
               So
               open
               they
               the
               fatal
               Cabinet
               ,
            
             
               To
               shut
               things
               slighter
               with
               the
               Consequent
               ;
            
             
               Then
               soon
               their
               rally'd
               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
               Governour
               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
               akes
               ;
            
             
               Since
               from
               the
               Light
               as
               sever'd
               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
               shews
               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
               threatned
               all
               where
               Death's
               deaf
               Pris'ners
               〈…〉
               ▪
            
          
           
             
               79.
               
            
             
               Hugo
               and
               him
               ,
               as
               Leaders
               〈…〉
               ▪
            
             
               Not
               much
               as
               Lovers
               does
               their
               ●ame
               approve
               ;
            
             
               Nor
               her
               own
               fate
               ,
               but
               chance
               of
               battel
               blames
               ;
            
             
               As
               if
               they
               dy'd
               for
               honour
               ,
               not
               for
               love
               .
            
          
           
             
               80.
               
            
             
               This
               Tybalt
               saw
               ,
               and
               finds
               that
               the
               turn'd
               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
               memorie
               ,
            
             
               How
               gravely
               he
               had
               vow'd
               ,
               that
               if
               her
               Eyes
               ,
            
             
               After
               such
               Show'rs
               of
               Love
               ,
               were
               quickly
               drie
               ,
            
             
               He
               would
               them
               more
               than
               Lamps
               in
               Tombs
               despise
               .
            
          
           
             
               82.
               
            
             
               And
               Whilst
               he
               watch'd
               like
               an
               industrious
               Spie
            
             
               Her
               Sexes
               changes
               ,
               and
               revolt
               of
               Youth
               ;
            
             
               He
               still
               reviv'd
               this
               vow
               as
               solemnly
               ,
            
             
               As
               Senates
               Count'nance
               Laws
               or
               Synods
               ,
               Truth
               .
            
          
           
             
               83.
               
            
             
               But
               men
               are
               frail
               ,
               more
               Glass
               than
               Women
               are
               !
            
             
               Tybalt
               who
               with
               a
               stay'd
               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
               approch
               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
               studie
               cures
               ;
            
             
               And
               our
               own
               force
               by
               othes
               ,
               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
                 joyes
                 pursue
              
               
                 In
                 conqu'ring
                 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
                 feigne'd
                 ,
                 and
                 with
                 a
                 hidden
                 fear
                 .
              
            
          
           
             
               1.
               
            
             
               THe
               prosp'rous
               Gondibert
               from
               Birtha
               gains
            
             
               All
               bashfull
               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
               seem'd
               to
               waste
               ,
            
             
               Which
               thus
               he
               in
               his
               minds
               ●tuition
               spent
               ;
            
             
               And
               lest
               some
               envious
               Cloud
               should
               overcast
            
             
               His
               Lov
               's
               fair
               Morn
               ,
               oft
               to
               his
               Camp
               he
               sent
            
          
           
             
               3.
               
            
             
               To
               Bergamo
               ,
               where
               still
               intrenched
               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
               haughtie
               threat'nings
               they
               abhor
               ,
            
             
               Which
               Fame
               ,
               from
               Brescia's
               ancient
               Fighters
               brought
               ;
            
             
               Vain
               Fame
               ,
               the
               Peoples
               trusted
               Orator
               ,
            
             
               Whose
               speech
               (
               too
               fluent
               )
               their
               mistakes
               has
               wrought
               .
            
          
           
             
               5.
               
            
             
               Oft
               Goltho
               with
               his
               temp'rate
               Counsels
               went
               ,
            
             
               To
               quench
               whom
               Fame
               to
               dang'rous
               furie
               warm'd
               ;
            
             
               Till
               temp'rately
               his
               dangers
               they
               resent
               ,
            
             
               And
               think
               him
               safest
               in
               their
               patience
               arm'd
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               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
               jealosie
               ,
               as
               safetie
               is
               from
               fear
               .
            
          
           
             
               7.
               
            
             
               And
               Birtha's
               heart
               does
               to
               his
               civil
               Breast
            
             
               As
               much
               for
               ease
               and
               peace
               ,
               as
               safetie
               ,
               come
               ;
            
             
               For
               there
               't
               is
               serv'd
               and
               treated
               as
               a
               Guest
               ,
            
             
               But
               watch'd
               ,
               and
               taught
               ,
               and
               often
               chid
               at
               home
               .
            
          
           
             
               8.
               
            
             
               Like
               great
               and
               good
               Confed'rates
               ,
               whose
               design
            
             
               Invades
               not
               others
               ,
               but
               secures
               their
               own
               :
            
             
               So
               they
               in
               just
               and
               virtuous
               hopes
               combine
               ,
            
             
               And
               are
               ,
               like
               new
               Confed'rates
               ,
               busie
               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
               ty'd
               .
            
          
           
             
               11.
               
            
             
               For
               if
               the
               King
               (
               said
               he
               )
               our
               love
               surprise
               ,
            
             
               His
               stormie
               rage
               will
               it
               Rebellion
               call
               ;
            
             
               Who
               claims
               to
               chuse
               the
               Brides
               of
               his
               Allies
               ;
            
             
               And
               in
               that
               storm
               our
               joys
               in
               blossom
               fall
               .
            
          
           
             
               12.
               
            
             
               Our
               love
               ,
               your
               cautious
               Father
               ,
               onely
               knows
            
             
               (
               On
               whose
               safe
               prudence
               ,
               Senates
               may
               depend
               )
            
             
               And
               Golth●
               ,
               who
               to
               time
               few
               reck'nings
               ows
               ,
            
             
               Yet
               can
               discharge
               all
               duties
               of
               a
               Friend
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               13.
               
            
             
               Such
               was
               his
               mind
               ,
               and
               hers
               (
               more
               busie
               )
               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
               beautie
               ,
               hide
               ;
            
             
               Which
               never
               farther
               went
               than
               Thula's
               Ear
               ,
            
             
               Who
               had
               (
               alass
               )
               but
               for
               that
               secret
               dy'd
               .
            
          
           
             
               15.
               
            
             
               That
               she
               alreadie
               had
               disguises
               fram'd
               ,
            
             
               And
               sought
               out
               Caves
               where
               she
               might
               closs
               reside
               ;
            
             
               As
               being
               ,
               nor
               unwilling
               nor
               asham'd
            
             
               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
               Forrests
               flanck'd
               ,
               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
               swel
               ,
            
             
               And
               hasts
               to
               shew
               her
               beautie
               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
               Vict'rie
               he
               would
               flie
            
             
               To
               leave
               swift
               Fame
               behind
               him
               by
               his
               haste
               .
            
          
           
             
               19.
               
            
             
               If
               (
               said
               the
               Duke
               )
               because
               the
               Boy
               is
               come
               ,
            
             
               I
               second
               gladness
               shew
               ,
               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
               weightie
               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
               jealousie
               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
               provok'd
               his
               flying
               Steed
               .
            
          
           
             
               23.
               
            
             
               And
               with
               his
               first
               recover'd
               breath
               he
               cries
               ,
            
             
               Hail
               my
               lov'd
               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
               tasts
               of
               Fortune's
               love
               ,
            
             
               Yet
               am
               afraid
               I
               err
               ,
               in
               ha●ing
               dar'd
            
             
               To
               think
               her
               favours
               could
               your
               gladness
               move
               ;
            
             
               Who
               have
               more
               worth
               than
               Fortune
               can
               reward
               .
            
          
           
             
               25.
               
            
             
               The
               Duke
               ,
               with
               smiles
               ,
               forewarns
               his
               hastie
               Tongue
               ;
            
             
               As
               loth
               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
               dutie
               the
               most
               usefull
               part
               ;
            
             
               Yet
               art
               thou
               now
               but
               slow
               to
               Hurgonil
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               27.
               
            
             
               Who
               hither
               by
               the
               Moons
               imperfect
               light
            
             
               Came
               and
               return'd
               ,
               without
               the
               help
               of
               day
               ,
            
             
               To
               tell
               me
               he
               has
               Orna's
               Virgin
               plight
               ,
            
             
               And
               that
               their
               Nuptials
               for
               my
               presence
               stay
               .
            
          
           
             
               28.
               
            
             
               Orgo
               reply'd
               ,
               though
               that
               a
               triumph
               be
            
             
               Where
               all
               false
               Lovers
               are
               ,
               like
               savage
               Kings
               ,
            
             
               Led
               Captive
               after
               Love's
               great
               Victorie
               ,
            
             
               It
               does
               but
               promise
               what
               your
               triumph
               brings
               .
            
          
           
             
               29.
               
            
             
               It
               was
               the
               Eve
               to
               this
               your
               Holy-day
               ,
            
             
               And
               now
               Verona
               Mishess
               does
               appear
            
             
               Of
               Lombardy
               ;
               and
               all
               the
               Flow'rs
               which
               May
            
             
               Ere
               wore
               ,
               does
               as
               the
               Countrie
               's
               favours
               wear
               .
            
          
           
             
               30.
               
            
             
               The
               wearie
               Eccho
               from
               the
               Hills
               makes
               hastes
            
             
               Vex'd
               that
               the
               Bells
               still
               calls
               for
               her
               replies
            
             
               When
               they
               so
               many
               are
               ,
               and
               ring
               so
               fast
               ;
            
             
               Yet
               oft
               are
               ●ilenc'd
               by
               the
               Peoples
               cries
               :
            
          
           
             
               31.
               
            
             
               Who
               send
               to
               Heav'n
               the
               name
               of
               Rh●dalind
               ,
            
             
               And
               then
               Duke
               Gondibert
               as
               high
               they
               raise
               ,
            
             
               To
               both
               with
               all
               their
               publick
               passion
               kind
               ,
            
             
               If
               kindness
               shine
               in
               wishes
               and
               in
               praise
               .
            
          
           
             
               32.
               
            
             
               The
               King
               this
               day
               made
               your
               adoption
               known
               ,
            
             
               Proclaim'd
               you
               to
               the
               Empire
               next
               ally'd
               ,
            
             
               As
               heir
               to
               all
               his
               Conquests
               and
               his
               Crown
               ,
            
             
               For
               royal
               Rhodalind
               must
               be
               your
               Bride
               .
            
          
           
             
               33.
               
            
             
               Not
               all
               the
               dange●s
               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
               ev'ry
               Maid
               has
               found
               ,
            
             
               On
               whose
               first
               Guards
               ,
               Love
               by
               surprises
               steals
               ,
            
             
               (
               Whose
               sightless
               Arrow
               makes
               a
               c●reless
               wound
               )
            
             
               Are
               like
               to
               this
               which
               doubtfull
               Birtha
               feels
               .
            
          
           
             
               35.
               
            
             
               He
               from
               his
               looks
               wild
               wonder
               strives
               to
               chace
               ;
            
             
               Strives
               more
               to
               teach
               his
               Manhood
               to
               resist
            
             
               Death
               in
               her
               Eyes
               ,
               and
               then
               with
               all
               the
               grace
            
             
               Of
               seeming
               pleasure
               ,
               Orgo
               he
               dismist
               .
            
          
           
             
               36.
               
            
             
               And
               Orgo
               being
               gone
               ,
               low
               as
               her
               knees
            
             
               Could
               fall
               ,
               she
               fell
               ;
               and
               soon
               he
               bends
               as
               low
            
             
               With
               weight
               of
               heart
               ;
               griev'd
               that
               no
               Grave
               he
               sees
               ,
            
             
               To
               sink
               ,
               where
               love
               no
               more
               can
               sorrow
               know
               .
            
          
           
             
               37.
               
            
             
               Her
               sighs
               as
               show'rs
               lay
               winds
               ,
               are
               calm'd
               with
               tears
               ;
            
             
               And
               parting
               life
               seems
               stay'd
               awhile
               to
               take
            
             
               A
               civil
               leave
               ,
               whilst
               her
               pale
               visage
               wears
            
             
               A
               clearie
               Skie
               ,
               and
               thus
               she
               weeping
               spake
               .
            
          
           
             
               38.
               
            
             
               Since
               such
               a
               Prince
               has
               forfeited
               his
               pow'r
               ,
            
             
               Heav'n
               give
               me
               leave
               to
               make
               my
               dutie
               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
               't
               is
               impossible
               I
               can
               forget
            
             
               So
               soon
               ,
               that
               once
               you
               fatally
               were
               good
               .
            
          
           
             
               40.
               
            
             
               Though
               cruel
               now
               as
               Beasts
               where
               they
               have
               pow'r
               ;
            
             
               Chusing
               ,
               like
               them
               to
               make
               the
               weakest
               bleed
               ;
            
             
               For
               weakness
               soon
               invites
               you
               to
               devour
               ,
            
             
               And
               a
               submission
               gives
               you
               ease
               to
               feed
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               41.
               
            
             
               To
               fighting
               Fields
               ,
               send
               all
               your
               honour
               back
               ,
            
             
               To
               Courts
               your
               dang'rous
               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
               Heav'n
               her
               Soul
               had
               found
               the
               way
               ,
            
             
               (
               For
               there
               it
               o●t
               had
               been
               in
               pray'r
               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
               betraid
               ev'n
               by
               their
               Priests
               .
            
          
           
             
               45.
               
            
             
               Think
               all
               my
               Sex
               so
               vile
               ,
               that
               you
               may
               chide
            
             
               Those
               Maids
               who
               to
               your
               Mothers
               Nuptials
               ran
               ;
            
             
               And
               praise
               your
               Mother
               who
               so
               early
               dy'd
               ,
            
             
               Remembring
               whom
               she
               marry'd
               was
               a
               Man.
               
            
          
           
             
               46.
               
            
             
               This
               great
               Court
               miracle
               you
               strait
               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
               publick
               Laws
               ;
            
             
               For
               Laws
               but
               sorce
               the
               Body
               ,
               but
               my
               Mind
            
             
               Your
               Virtue
               Counsels
               ,
               whilst
               your
               beauty
               draws
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               48.
               
            
             
               Thus
               spake
               he
               ,
               but
               his
               mourning
               looks
               did
               more
            
             
               Attest
               ▪
               his
               grief
               ,
               and
               fear
               does
               hers
               renew
               ;
            
             
               Now
               losing
               (
               were
               he
               lost
               )
               more
               than
               before
               ,
            
             
               For
               then
               she
               fear'd
               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
               believ'd
               it
               good
               ▪
               )
            
             
               To
               Astragon
               the
               joyfull
               Houshold
               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
               Lovers
               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
               errours
               ,
               which
               his
               swiftness
               brings
               ,
            
             
               I
               find
               effects
               ,
               but
               dare
               not
               tax
               the
               cause
               ;
            
             
               For
               Poets
               were
               inspir'd
               ,
               who
               gave
               him
               wings
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               55.
               
            
             
               When
               low
               I
               dig
               ,
               where
               desart-Rivers
               run
               ,
            
             
               Dive
               deep
               in
               Seas
               ,
               through
               Forrests
               follow
               winds
               ,
            
             
               Or
               reach
               with
               Optick
               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
               giv'n
               ;
            
             
               Nor
               doubt
               him
               true
               ,
               not
               knowing
               whence
               he
               came
               ,
            
             
               Nor
               Birtha
               chide
               ,
               who
               thought
               you
               came
               from
               Heav'n
               .
            
          
           
             
               57.
               
            
             
               If
               you
               lay
               snares
               ,
               we
               erre
               when
               we
               escape
               ;
            
             
               Since
               evil
               practise
               learns
               Men
               to
               suspect
            
             
               Where
               falshood
               is
               ,
               and
               in
               your
               noble
               shape
               ,
            
             
               We
               should
               by
               finding
               it
               ,
               our
               skill
               detect
               .
            
          
           
             
               58.
               
            
             
               Yet
               both
               your
               griefs
               I
               'le
               chide
               ,
               as
               ignorance
               ;
            
             
               Call
               you
               unthankfull
               ;
               for
               your
               great
               griefs
               show
            
             
               That
               Heav'n
               has
               never
               us'd
               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
               Paradice
               ,
            
             
               Where
               slender
               Flow'rs
               as
               safe
               as
               Cedars
               grew
               .
            
          
           
             
               60.
               
            
             
               This
               which
               your
               Youth
               calls
               grief
               ,
               was
               frowardness
            
             
               In
               flatter'd
               Infancy
               ,
               and
               as
               you
               bear
            
             
               Unkindly
               now
               amidst
               Youth's
               joys
               distress
               ,
            
             
               So
               then
               ,
               unless
               still
               rock'd
               ,
               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
               dang'rous
               weakness
               make
               ;
            
             
               But
               we
               by
               use
               of
               Burdens
               are
               made
               strong
               ;
            
             
               And
               in
               our
               practis'd
               Age
               can
               calmly
               take
            
             
               Those
               sorrows
               ,
               which
               like
               Feavers
               ,
               vex
               the
               young
               .
            
          
           
             
               63.
               
            
             
               When
               you
               in
               Love's
               fair
               Books
               (
               which
               Poets
               keep
               )
            
             
               Read
               what
               they
               hide
               ,
               his
               Tragick
               History
               ,
            
             
               You
               will
               rejoyce
               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
               spake
               the
               kind
               and
               prudent
               Astragon
               :
            
             
               And
               much
               their
               kind
               impatience
               he
               appeas'd
               ,
            
             
               For
               of
               his
               griefs
               (
               which
               heavier
               than
               their
               own
            
             
               Were
               born
               by
               both
               )
               their
               duteous
               fears
               are
               eas'd
               .
            
          
           
             
               66.
               
            
             
               She
               begs
               that
               he
               would
               pardon
               her
               distress
               ,
            
             
               Thought
               that
               even
               sin
               which
               did
               her
               sorrows
               move
               ;
            
             
               And
               then
               with
               all
               her
               Mothers
               lowliness
               ,
            
             
               His
               pardon
               craves
               for
               asking
               leave
               to
               love
               .
            
          
           
             
               67.
               
            
             
               The
               Duke
               who
               saw
               fair
               Truth
               so
               undisguis'd
               ,
            
             
               And
               love
               in
               all
               ,
               but
               love
               so
               unconcern'd
               ,
            
             
               Pity'd
               the
               studious
               world
               ,
               and
               all
               despis'd
            
             
               Who
               did
               not
               here
               unlearn
               ,
               what
               they
               had
               learn'd
               .
            
          
           
             
               68.
               
            
             
               I
               am
               reform'd
               (
               said
               he
               )
               not
               that
               before
            
             
               I
               wanted
               love
               ,
               or
               that
               my
               love
               was
               ill
               ;
            
             
               But
               I
               have
               learnt
               to
               perfect
               Nature
               more
            
             
               By
               giving
               innocence
               a
               little
               skill
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               69.
               
            
             
               For
               't
               is
               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
               threat'ned
               Wars
               .
            
          
           
             
               70.
               
            
             
               But
               we
               will
               bravely
               suffer
               to
               inure
            
             
               Our
               strength
               to
               weights
               against
               the
               new
               are
               laid
               ;
            
             
               That
               when
               't
               is
               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
               threatning
               Beams
               ;
            
             
               And
               looks
               as
               if
               it
               were
               by
               malice
               meant
            
             
               To
               hasten
               Oswald's
               Faction
               to
               extreams
               .
            
          
           
             
               72.
               
            
             
               Since
               Hurgonil
               ,
               who
               just
               fore-ran
               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
               Heav'ns
               ,
               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
               straight
               ;
            
             
               And
               me
               Ambition's
               pleasures
               cannot
               please
               ;
            
             
               Ev'n
               Priests
               ,
               who
               on
               the
               higher
               Altar
               wait
               ;
            
             
               Think
               a
               continu'd
               rev'rence
               loss
               of
               ease
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               76.
               
            
             
               Let
               us
               with
               secrecy
               our
               love
               protect
               ;
            
             
               Hiding
               such
               precious
               wealth
               from
               publick
               view
               ;
            
             
               The
               proffer'd
               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
               woo'd
               Mistress
               did
               him
               aw
               ;
            
             
               Since
               love
               woo'd
               him
               ,
               and
               in
               the
               shape
               of
               Pow'r
               .
            
          
           
             
               78.
               
            
             
               But
               when
               he
               mark'd
               that
               he
               did
               from
               them
               move
            
             
               With
               sudden
               shyness
               ,
               he
               suppos'd
               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
               Musick
               made
               ,
            
             
               Chearfull
               as
               Victors
               warm
               in
               their
               success
               ;
            
             
               He
               seem'd
               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
               Flatt'rer
               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
               knowst
               )
               enjoyn'd
               that
               I
               his
               love
               should
               hide
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               83.
               
            
             
               Nor
               do
               I
               break
               his
               trust
               when
               't
               is
               reveal'd
            
             
               To
               thee
               ,
               since
               we
               are
               now
               so
               much
               the
               same
               ,
            
             
               That
               when
               from
               thee
               ,
               it
               is
               from
               me
               conceal'd
               ,
            
             
               For
               we
               admit
               no
               diff'rence
               but
               in
               name
               .
            
          
           
             
               84.
               
            
             
               But
               be
               it
               still
               from
               ev'ry
               other
               Ear
            
             
               Preserv'd
               ,
               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
               knowst
               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
               erre
               ;
            
             
               For
               if
               I
               get
               what
               he
               would
               fain
               possess
               ,
            
             
               Then
               he
               a
               Monarch
               is
               ,
               and
               I
               preferre
            
             
               Him
               who
               undoes
               the
               world
               in
               being
               less
               .
            
          
           
             
               87.
               
            
             
               When
               Heav'n
               (
               which
               hath
               preferr'd
               me
               to
               thy
               brest
            
             
               Where
               Friendship
               is
               inthron'd
               )
               shall
               make
               it
               known
            
             
               That
               I
               am
               worth
               thy
               love
               ,
               which
               is
               exprest
            
             
               By
               making
               Heav'nly
               Birtha
               all
               mine
               own
               .
            
          
           
             
               88.
               
            
             
               Then
               at
               this
               quiet
               Eden
               thou
               wilt
               call
               ,
            
             
               And
               stay
               a
               while
               ,
               to
               mark
               if
               Love
               's
               prais'd
               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
               ;
            
             
               Stiles
               of
               her
               Face
               ,
               the
               Curtain
               of
               her
               Mind
               !
            
          
           
             
             
               90.
               
            
             
               And
               thou
               at
               parting
               shalt
               her
               picture
               wear
               ,
            
             
               For
               Nature's
               honour
               ,
               not
               to
               shew
               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
               pow'r
               no
               civil
               War
               will
               raise
               ;
            
             
               But
               flourish
               ,
               and
               like
               neighb'ring
               Flow'rs
               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
               cloath'd
               in
               Feathers
               ,
               he●on
               Steeples
               walks
               ;
            
             
               Not
               guessing
               yet
               ,
               that
               silent
               Ulfinore
               ,
            
             
               Had
               study'd
               her
               of
               whom
               he
               loosly
               talks
               ,
            
             
               And
               what
               he
               likes
               ,
               did
               solidly
               adore
               .
            
          
           
             
               94.
               
            
             
               But
               Ulfinore
               with
               cold
               discretion
               aw'd
            
             
               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
               count'nance
               not
               uneasie
               seem'd
               ,
               nor
               strange
               ;
            
             
               Yet
               meant
               his
               cares
               should
               more
               like
               Love
               appear
               ,
            
             
               If
               in
               the
               Duke
               Ambition
               bred
               a
               change
               .
            
          
           
             
               96.
               
            
             
               But
               as
               the
               Duke
               shun'd
               them
               for
               secrecy
               ,
            
             
               So
               now
               they
               from
               approaching
               Org●
               move
               ,
            
             
               Made
               by
               Discretion
               (
               Love's
               strict
               Tutor
               )
               shy
               ,
            
             
               Which
               is
               to
               Lovers
               painfull
               as
               their
               Love.
               
            
          
           
             
             
               97.
               
            
             
               But
               Orgo
               they
               did
               ill
               suspect
               ,
               whose
               Youth
            
             
               And
               nature
               yielded
               Lovers
               no
               offence
               ;
            
             
               Us'd
               by
               his
               Lord
               for
               kindness
               and
               for
               truth
               ;
            
             
               Both
               native
               in
               him
               as
               his
               innocence
               :
            
          
           
             
               98.
               
            
             
               And
               here
               pass'd
               by
               in
               haste
               ,
               to
               Court
               employ'd
               ,
            
             
               That
               Birtha
               may
               no
               more
               have
               cause
               to
               mourn
               :
            
             
               Full
               was
               his
               little
               Breast
               ,
               and
               over-joy'd
            
             
               That
               much
               depended
               on
               his
               quick
               return
               !
            
          
           
             
               99.
               
            
             
               Many
               like
               Orgo
               ,
               in
               their
               Manhoods
               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
               needfull
               Counsels
               ,
               though
               to
               lengthen
               Peace
               ,
            
             
               Nor
               Love
               ,
               of
               which
               wise
               Nature
               takes
               such
               care
               ,
            
             
               Could
               from
               this
               usefull
               work
               his
               cares
               release
               .
            
          
           
             
               102.
               
            
             
               But
               with
               the
               early
               Sun
               he
               rose
               ,
               and
               taught
            
             
               These
               Youths
               ,
               by
               growing
               virtue
               to
               grow
               great
               ;
            
             
               Shew'd
               greatness
               is
               without
               it
               blindly
               sought
               ,
            
             
               A
               desp'rate
               charge
               which
               ends
               in
               base
               retreat
               .
            
          
           
             
               103.
               
            
             
               He
               taught
               them
               shame
               ,
               the
               sudden
               sence
               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
               Pow'r
               ,
               it
               grows
               to
               nothing
               ,
               growing
               less
               ;
            
             
               Honour
               ,
               the
               moral
               Conscience
               of
               the
               Great
               !
            
          
           
             
               105.
               
            
             
               He
               taught
               them
               kindness
               ,
               Souls
               civilitie
               ;
            
             
               In
               which
               ,
               nor
               Courts
               ,
               nor
               Cities
               have
               a
               part
               ;
            
             
               For
               theirs
               is
               fashion
               ,
               this
               from
               falshood
               free
               ;
            
             
               Where
               Love
               ,
               and
               pleasure
               ,
               know
               no
               Lust
               nor
               Art.
               
            
          
           
             
               106.
               
            
             
               And
               Love
               he
               taught
               ;
               the
               Soul
               's
               stoln
               Visit
               made
               ,
            
             
               Though
               froward
               Age
               watch
               hard
               ,
               and
               Law
               forbid
               ;
            
             
               Her
               walks
               no
               Spie
               has
               trac'd
               ,
               nor
               mountain
               staid
               ;
            
             
               Her
               friendship's
               cause
               ,
               is
               as
               the
               Loadstone's
               hid
               .
            
          
           
             
               107.
               
            
             
               He
               taught
               them
               love
               of
               Toyl
               ,
               Toyl
               which
               does
               keep
            
             
               Obstructions
               from
               the
               Mind
               ,
               and
               quench
               the
               bloud
               ;
            
             
               Ease
               but
               belongs
               to
               us
               like
               sleep
               ,
               and
               sleep
            
             
               Like
               Opium
               ,
               is
               our
               Med'cine
               ,
               not
               our
               Food
               .
            
          
           
             
               108.
               
            
             
               To
               dangers
               us'd
               them
               ,
               which
               Death's
               Visards
               are
               ,
            
             
               More
               uglie
               than
               himself
               ,
               and
               often
               chace
            
             
               From
               Battel
               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
              
               
                 Ev'n
                 them
                 concern'd
                 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
               Roles
               dost
               read
            
             
               (
               Kept
               as
               Records
               by
               Lovers
               of
               Love's
               pow'r
               )
            
             
               Thou
               who
               dost
               live
               ,
               when
               I
               have
               long
               been
               dead
               ,
            
             
               And
               feed'st
               from
               Earth
               ,
               when
               Earth
               does
               me
               devour
               .
            
          
           
             
               2.
               
            
             
               Who
               liv'st
               ,
               perhaps
               ,
               amidst
               some
               Cities
               joys
               ,
            
             
               Where
               they
               would
               fall
               asleep
               with
               Lazie
               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
            
             
               Lead'st
               to
               some
               Temple
               ,
               where
               I
               withered
               lie
               ;
            
             
               Proudly
               ,
               as
               if
               she
               Age's
               Frosts
               desy'd
               ;
            
             
               And
               that
               thy
               springing
               self
               could
               never
               die
               :
            
          
           
             
               4.
               
            
             
               Thou
               ,
               to
               whom
               then
               the
               chearfull
               Quire
               will
               sing
               ,
            
             
               Whilst
               hallow'd
               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
               shew
               her
               where
               my
               Marble
               Co●●in
               lies
               ;
            
             
               Her
               Virgin
               Garlands
               she
               will
               offer
               there
               :
            
          
           
             
             
               6.
               
            
             
               Confess
               ,
               that
               reading
               me
               she
               learnt
               to
               Love
               ;
            
             
               That
               all
               the
               good
               behaviour
               of
               her
               heart
               ,
            
             
               Even
               tow'rds
               thy self
               ,
               my
               doctrine
               did
               improve
               ;
            
             
               Where
               Love
               by
               Nature
               is
               forewarn'd
               of
               Art.
               
            
          
           
             
               7.
               
            
             
               She
               will
               confess
               ,
               that
               to
               her
               Maiden
               state
            
             
               This
               Storie
               shew'd
               such
               Patterns
               of
               great
               Life
               ,
            
             
               As
               though
               she
               then
               could
               those
               but
               imitate
               ,
            
             
               They
               an
               Example
               make
               her
               now
               a
               Wife
               .
            
          
           
             
               8.
               
            
             
               And
               thy
               lif
               's
               fire
               could
               she
               a
               while
               out-live
            
             
               (
               Which
               were
               ,
               though
               lawfull
               ,
               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
               Cynick
               Age
               ,
            
             
               Of
               bus'ness
               ,
               which
               does
               Pow'r
               uncivil
               make
               ,
            
             
               Of
               ruder
               Cells
               ,
               where
               they
               Love's
               Fire
               asswage
            
             
               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
               perswade
               ,
            
             
               And
               hold
               by
               virtue
               whom
               her
               beautie
               draws
               .
            
          
           
             
               11.
               
            
             
               Thus
               when
               by
               knowing
               me
               ,
               thou
               know'st
               to
               whom
            
             
               Love
               ows
               his
               Eyes
               ,
               who
               has
               too
               long
               been
               blind
               ▪
            
             
               Then
               in
               the
               Temple
               leave
               my
               Bodies
               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
               Tarras
               stay
               ;
            
             
               Which
               high
               ,
               and
               golden
               shews
               ,
               and
               open
               lies
               ,
            
             
               As
               the
               Morn's
               Window
               when
               she
               lets
               out
               Day
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               13.
               
            
             
               Whose
               heighth
               Two
               rising
               Forrests
               over-looks
               ;
            
             
               And
               on
               Pine-tops
               the
               Eye-sight
               downward
               cast
               ;
            
             
               Where
               distant
               Rivers
               seem
               bestrided
               Brooks
               ,
            
             
               Churches
               but
               Anchor'd
               Ships
               ,
               their
               Steeples
               ,
               Masts
               .
            
          
           
             
               14.
               
            
             
               Hence
               ,
               by
               his
               little
               Regian
               Courser
               brought
               ,
            
             
               Orgo
               they
               spie
               ,
               with
               diligence
               indu'd
               ,
            
             
               As
               if
               he
               would
               oretake
               fore-running
               Thought
               ;
            
             
               And
               he
               by
               many
               swiftly
               seem'd
               pursu'd
               .
            
          
           
             
               15.
               
            
             
               But
               his
               light
               speed
               left
               those
               awhile
               behind
               ;
            
             
               Whilst
               with
               rais'd
               Dust
               ,
               their
               swiftness
               hide
               the
               way
               ;
            
             
               Yet
               Birtha
               will
               ,
               too
               soon
               ,
               by
               Orgo
               find
            
             
               What
               she
               by
               distance
               lost
               in
               this
               survay
               .
            
          
           
             
               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
               proclaim'd
               his
               joy
               ,
               Long
               may
               I
               live
               !
            
             
               Sent
               still
               with
               blessings
               from
               the
               Heav'nly
               Powers
               ;
            
             
               And
               may
               their
               bounties
               shew
               what
               they
               can
               give
               ;
            
             
               And
               full
               as
               fast
               as
               long
               expected
               Showers
               !
            
          
           
             
               18.
               
            
             
               Behold
               the
               King
               ,
               with
               such
               a
               shining
               Train
            
             
               As
               dazles
               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
               ore
               their
               Heads
               ,
               their
               Coursers
               scatter'd
               Fome
            
             
               Does
               seem
               to
               cover
               them
               like
               falling
               Snow
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               20.
               
            
             
               This
               Birtha
               heard
               ,
               and
               she
               on
               Orgo
               cast
            
             
               A
               pitious
               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
               glorie
               took
               ,
            
             
               As
               Men
               whose
               Sayls
               are
               full
               ,
               more
               weather
               take
               ;
            
             
               And
               she
               so
               gaz'd
               on
               him
               ,
               as
               Sea-men
               look
            
             
               On
               long
               sought
               shore
               ,
               when
               Tempests
               drive
               them
               back
               .
            
          
           
             
               22.
               
            
             
               But
               now
               these
               glories
               more
               apparent
               be
               ;
            
             
               And
               justly
               all
               their
               observation
               claim'd
               ;
            
             
               Great
               ,
               as
               in
               greatest
               Courts
               less
               Princes
               see
               ,
            
             
               When
               entertain'd
               to
               be
               eclips'd
               ,
               and
               sham'd
               ,
            
          
           
             
               23.
               
            
             
               West
               from
               Verona's
               Road
               ,
               through
               pleasant
               Meads
               ,
            
             
               Their
               Chariots
               cross
               ,
               and
               to
               the
               Palace
               steer
               ;
            
             
               And
               Aribert
               this
               winged
               triumph
               leads
               ;
            
             
               Which
               like
               the
               Planets
               Progress
               did
               appear
               .
            
          
           
             
               24.
               
            
             
               So
               shin'd
               they
               ,
               and
               so
               noiseless
               seem'd
               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
            
             
               (
               Silver'd
               with
               time
               )
               the
               Golden
               Gartha
               shin'd
               ;
            
             
               And
               Tybalt's
               Eyes
               were
               full
               by
               Laura
               fill'd
               .
            
          
           
             
               26.
               
            
             
               The
               lesser
               Beauties
               ,
               numberless
               as
               Stars
               ,
            
             
               Shew'd
               ●ickly
               and
               far
               off
               ,
               to
               this
               Noon-day
               ;
            
             
               And
               lagg'd
               like
               Baggage
               Treasure
               in
               the
               Wars
               ;
            
             
               Or
               onely
               seem'd
               another
               Milkie-way
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               27.
               
            
             
               The
               Duke
               perceiv'd
               ,
               the
               King
               design'd
               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
               wak'd
               with
               this
               Alarm
               ;
               and
               Vlfin
               strait
            
             
               (
               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
               Eies
               ,
               his
               Heart
               reveal'd
               ;
            
             
               And
               by
               some
               civil
               jealousies
               he
               shows
            
             
               Her
               beauty
               from
               the
               Court
               must
               be
               conceal'd
               .
            
          
           
             
               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
               disguis'd
               in
               civil
               shapes
               of
               Peace
               .
            
          
           
             
               31.
               
            
             
               Still
               he
               the
               precious
               Pledge
               kept
               from
               her
               view
               ;
            
             
               Who
               guess'd
               not
               by
               the
               Casket
               his
               intent
               ;
            
             
               And
               was
               so
               willing
               not
               to
               fear
               him
               true
               ,
            
             
               That
               she
               did
               fear
               to
               question
               what
               it
               ment
               .
            
          
           
             
               32.
               
            
             
               Now
               hasts
               she
               to
               be
               hid
               ;
               and
               being
               gon
               ,
            
             
               Her
               Lover
               thinks
               the
               Planet
               of
               the
               day
               ;
            
             
               So
               leaves
               the
               mourning
               World
               to
               give
               the
               Moon
            
             
               (
               Whose
               Train
               is
               mark'd
               but
               for
               their
               number
               )
               way
               .
            
          
           
             
               33.
               
            
             
               And
               entring
               in
               her
               Closet
               (
               which
               took
               light
            
             
               Full
               in
               the
               Palace
               Front
               )
               she
               finds
               her
               Maids
            
             
               Gather'd
               to
               see
               this
               gay
               unusuall
               sight
               ;
            
             
               Which
               Commet-like
               ,
               their
               wondring
               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
               her self
               ,
               provok'd
               with
               Courts
               great
               Fame
               ,
            
             
               Would
               fain
               a
               little
               see
               what
               all
               admire
               .
            
          
           
             
               36.
               
            
             
               Then
               through
               the
               Casement
               ventur'd
               so
               much
               Face
               ,
            
             
               As
               Kings
               depos'd
               shew
               when
               through
               Grates
               they
               peep
            
             
               To
               see
               Deposers
               in
               their
               Crowding
               pass
               ;
            
             
               But
               strait
               shrink
               back
               ,
               and
               at
               the
               triumph
               weep
               .
            
          
           
             
               37.
               
            
             
               Soon
               so
               her
               Eyes
               did
               too
               much
               glory
               find
               ;
            
             
               For
               ev'n
               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
               weigh'd
               (
               no
               less
               renown'd
               )
            
             
               Afflicts
               her
               that
               such
               worth
               must
               fatal
               prove
               ;
            
             
               And
               be
               in
               tears
               of
               the
               Possessor
               drown'd
               ,
            
             
               Or
               she
               depose
               her
               Lover
               by
               her
               love
               .
            
          
           
             
               39.
               
            
             
               But
               Thula
               (
               wildly
               earnest
               in
               the
               view
            
             
               Of
               such
               gay
               sights
               as
               she
               did
               ne'r
               behold
               )
            
             
               Mark'd
               not
               when
               Birtha
               her
               sad
               Eyes
               withdrew
               ;
            
             
               But
               dreamt
               the
               world
               was
               turn'd
               again
               to
               Gold.
               
            
          
           
             
               40.
               
            
             
               Each
               Lady
               most
               ,
               till
               more
               appear'd
               ,
               ador'd
               ;
            
             
               Then
               with
               rude
               liking
               prais'd
               them
               all
               aloud
               ;
            
             
               Yet
               thought
               them
               foul
               and
               course
               to
               ev'ry
               Lord
               ;
            
             
               And
               civilly
               to
               ev'ry
               Page
               she
               bow'd
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               41.
               
            
             
               The
               objects
               past
               ,
               out-sigh'd
               ev'n
               those
               that
               woo
               ;
            
             
               And
               strait
               her
               Mistris
               at
               the
               Window
               mist
               ;
            
             
               Then
               finding
               her
               in
               grief
               ,
               out-sigh'd
               her
               too
               ;
            
             
               And
               her
               fair
               Hands
               with
               parting
               passion
               kist
               :
            
          
           
             
               42.
               
            
             
               Did
               with
               a
               Servants
               usual
               art
               profess
            
             
               That
               all
               she
               saw
               was
               ,
               to
               her
               beauty
               ,
               black
               ;
            
             
               Confess'd
               their
               Maids
               well
               bred
               ,
               and
               knew
               to
               dress
               ,
            
             
               But
               said
               those
               Courts
               are
               poor
               which
               painting
               lack
               .
            
          
           
             
               43.
               
            
             
               Thy
               praise
               (
               said
               Birtha
               )
               poyson'd
               is
               with
               spite
               ;
            
             
               May
               blisters
               seiz
               on
               thy
               uncivil
               Tongue
               ,
            
             
               Which
               strives
               so
               wickedly
               to
               do
               me
               right
               ,
            
             
               By
               doing
               Rhodalind
               and
               Orna
               wrong
               .
            
          
           
             
               44.
               
            
             
               False
               Fame
               ,
               thy
               Mistris
               tutor'd
               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
               gon
               ;
            
             
               At
               least
               see
               more
               ,
               though
               they
               her
               sight
               deceive
               ;
            
             
               Whilst
               Birtha
               finds
               wilde
               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
               adorn'd
               his
               Face
               .
            
          
           
             
               47.
               
            
             
               Then
               Astragon
               with
               hasty
               homage
               bows
               :
            
             
               And
               says
               ,
               when
               thus
               his
               Beams
               he
               does
               dispence
            
             
               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
               bee
            
             
               Drawn
               by
               the
               Soul
               ,
               whose
               onely
               hire
               is
               praise
               ;
            
             
               And
               from
               such
               Salary
               not
               Heav'n
               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
               advanc'd
               ,
               but
               with
               delay
               ,
            
             
               As
               fetter'd
               by
               his
               love
               ;
               for
               he
               would
               fain
            
             
               Dissembled
               weakness
               might
               procure
               his
               stay
               ,
            
             
               Here
               where
               his
               Soul
               does
               as
               in
               Heav'n
               remain
               .
            
          
           
             
               51.
               
            
             
               Him
               ,
               Creature
               like
               ,
               the
               King
               did
               boldly
               use
            
             
               With
               publick
               love
               ;
               to
               have
               it
               understood
            
             
               That
               Kings
               ,
               like
               God
               ,
               may
               chuse
               whom
               they
               will
               chuse
               ;
            
             
               And
               what
               they
               make
               ,
               judge
               with
               their
               own
               Eyes
               good
               .
            
          
           
             
               52.
               
            
             
               This
               grace
               the
               Duke
               at
               bashfull
               distance
               takes
               ;
            
             
               And
               Rhodalind
               so
               much
               concern'd
               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
               practis'd
               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
               closser
               mourning
               more
               be
               worn
               !
            
             
               Poor
               Priests
               invented
               Blacks
               for
               lesser
               cost
               ;
            
             
               Kings
               for
               their
               Syres
               in
               Regal
               Purple
               mourn
               ,
            
             
               Which
               shews
               what
               they
               have
               got
               ,
               not
               what
               they
               lost
               .
            
          
           
             
               56.
               
            
             
               Though
               rough
               the
               way
               to
               Empire
               be
               ,
               and
               steep
               ,
            
             
               You
               look
               that
               I
               should
               level
               it
               so
               plain
               ,
            
             
               As
               Babes
               might
               walk
               it
               barefoot
               in
               their
               sleep
               ;
            
             
               But
               Pow'r
               is
               the
               reward
               of
               patient
               pain
               !
            
          
           
             
               57.
               
            
             
               This
               high
               Hill
               Pow'r
               ,
               whose
               Bowels
               are
               of
               Gold
               ,
            
             
               Shews
               near
               to
               greedy
               and
               unpractis'd
               sight
               ;
            
             
               But
               many
               grow
               in
               travel
               to
               it
               ,
               old
               ,
            
             
               And
               have
               mistook
               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
               ev'ry
               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
               ake
               .
            
          
           
             
               61.
               
            
             
               Your
               Brothers
               storm
               I
               to
               a
               calm
               have
               turn'd
               ;
            
             
               Who
               lets
               this
               guilded
               Sacrifice
               proceed
            
             
               To
               Hymen's
               Altar
               ,
               by
               the
               King
               adorn'd
               ,
            
             
               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
               Angels
               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
               Love-sick
               States-men
               she
               was
               taught
               ;
            
             
               And
               smil'd
               with
               joy
               of
               wearing
               Manly
               shape
               ;
            
             
               Then
               smil'd
               ,
               that
               such
               a
               smile
               his
               Heart
               had
               caught
               ;
            
             
               Whose
               Nets
               camps
               break
               not
               through
               ,
               nor
               Senates
               scape
               .
            
          
        
         
           
           
             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
               receiv'd
               with
               state
               ,
            
             
               When
               Courts
               shew
               those
               ,
               who
               come
               to
               see
               the
               Show
               ;
            
             
               And
               all
               gay
               Subjects
               like
               Domesticks
               wait
               .
            
          
           
             
               2.
               
            
             
               Nor
               Vlfinore
               nor
               Goltho
               absent
               were
               ;
            
             
               Whose
               hopes
               expect
               what
               lift'ning
               Birtha
               (
               hid
            
             
               In
               the
               adjoyning
               Closet
               )
               fears
               to
               hear
               ;
            
             
               And
               begs
               kind
               Heav'n
               in
               pitie
               would
               forbid
               .
            
          
           
             
               3.
               
            
             
               The
               King
               (
               who
               never
               time
               nor
               pow'r
               mispent
            
             
               In
               Subjects
               bashfulness
               ,
               whiling
               great
               deeds
            
             
               Like
               Coward
               Councels
               ,
               who
               too
               late
               consent
               )
            
             
               Thus
               to
               his
               secret
               Will
               aloud
               proceeds
               .
            
          
           
             
               4.
               
            
             
               If
               to
               thy
               same
               (
               brave
               Youth
               )
               I
               could
               adde
               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
               Lombards
               with
               their
               envy
               blind
               ,
            
             
               Or
               that
               the
               Hunns
               so
               much
               for
               bondage
               weep
               ,
            
             
               As
               their
               drown'd
               Eyes
               cannot
               thy
               Trophies
               find
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               6.
               
            
             
               When
               this
               is
               heard
               ,
               none
               dare
               of
               what
               I
               give
            
             
               Presume
               their
               equal
               merit
               might
               have
               shar'd
               ;
            
             
               And
               to
               say
               more
               ,
               might
               make
               thy
               Foes
               believe
               ,
            
             
               Thy
               dang'rous
               worth
               is
               grown
               above
               reward
               .
            
          
           
             
               7.
               
            
             
               Reward
               even
               of
               a
               Crown
               ,
               and
               such
               a
               Crown
               ,
            
             
               As
               by
               Heav'n's
               Model
               ancient
               Victors
               wore
               ;
            
             
               When
               they
               ,
               as
               by
               their
               Coyn
               ,
               by
               Laws
               were
               known
               ;
            
             
               For
               Laws
               but
               made
               more
               currant
               Victors
               pow'r
               .
            
          
           
             
               8.
               
            
             
               A
               Crown
               soon
               taught
               ,
               by
               whom
               Pow'r
               first
               was
               given
               ;
            
             
               When
               Victors
               (
               of
               Dominion
               cautious
               made
            
             
               By
               hearing
               of
               that
               old
               revolt
               in
               Heaven
               )
            
             
               Kept
               Pow'r
               too
               high
               for
               Subjects
               to
               invade
               .
            
          
           
             
               9.
               
            
             
               A
               Crown
               ,
               which
               ends
               by
               Armies
               their
               debate
               ,
            
             
               Who
               question
               height
               of
               Pow'r
               ;
               who
               by
               the
               Law
            
             
               (
               Till
               plain
               obedience
               they
               make
               intricate
               )
            
             
               Would
               not
               the
               People
               ,
               but
               their
               Rulers
               aw
               .
            
          
           
             
               10.
               
            
             
               To
               Pow'r
               ,
               adoption
               makes
               thy
               Title
               good
               ;
            
             
               Preferring
               worth
               ,
               as
               birth
               gives
               Princes
               place
               ;
            
             
               And
               Virtue
               's
               claim
               exceeds
               the
               right
               of
               blood
               ,
            
             
               As
               Souls
               extraction
               does
               the
               Bodies
               Race
               .
            
          
           
             
               11.
               
            
             
               Yet
               for
               thy
               Bloods
               long
               walk
               through
               Princes
               veins
               ,
            
             
               Thou
               maist
               with
               any
               Lombard
               measure
               time
               ;
            
             
               Though
               he
               his
               hidden
               house
               in
               Illium
               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
               chuse
               ;
            
             
               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
               Heav'n
               that
               all
               your
               mighty
               Minds
            
             
               As
               soon
               were
               pleas'd
               ,
               as
               Infants
               are
               with
               sleep
               ,
            
             
               And
               you
               had
               Musick
               common
               as
               the
               winds
               .
            
          
           
             
               14.
               
            
             
               That
               all
               the
               Year
               your
               Seasons
               were
               like
               Spring
               ;
            
             
               All
               joy'd
               as
               Birds
               ,
               and
               all
               as
               Lovers
               kind
               ;
            
             
               That
               ev'ry
               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
               't
               is
               to
               you
               ,
               brave
               Youth
               !
               Who
               now
               are
               she
               ;
            
             
               And
               she
               that
               Heav'n
               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
               spake
               the
               King
               ,
               and
               Rhodalind
               appear'd
            
             
               Through
               publish'd
               Love
               ,
               with
               so
               much
               bashfulness
               ,
            
             
               As
               young
               Kings
               shew
               ,
               when
               by
               surprize
               ore-heard
               ,
            
             
               Moaning
               to
               Fav'rite
               Ears
               a
               deep
               distress
               .
            
          
           
             
               18.
               
            
             
               For
               Love
               is
               a
               distress
               ,
               and
               would
               be
               hid
            
             
               Like
               Monarchs
               grief
               ,
               by
               which
               they
               bashfull
               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
               vail'd
               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
               rosie
               looks
               decay
               ;
            
             
               Who
               in
               Fear
               's
               Frost
               had
               like
               her
               beauty
               dy'd
               ,
            
             
               But
               that
               Attendant
               Hope
               perswades
               her
               stay
            
             
               A
               while
               ,
               to
               hear
               her
               Duke
               ,
               who
               thus
               reply'd
               :
            
          
           
             
               21.
               
            
             
               Victorious
               King
               !
               Abroad
               your
               Subjects
               are
            
             
               Like
               Legats
               safe
               ,
               at
               home
               like
               Altars
               free
               !
            
             
               Ev'n
               by
               your
               fame
               they
               conquer
               as
               by
               war
               ;
            
             
               And
               by
               your
               Laws
               safe
               from
               each
               other
               be
               .
            
          
           
             
               22.
               
            
             
               A
               King
               you
               are
               ore
               Subjects
               ,
               so
               as
               wise
            
             
               And
               noble
               Husbands
               seem
               ore
               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
               chearfull
               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
               falsly
               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
               Feaver
               am
               I
               gone
               !
            
             
               Like
               raging
               Flame
               aspiring
               is
               my
               Love
               ;
            
             
               Like
               flame
               destructive
               too
               ,
               and
               like
               the
               Sun
            
             
               Does
               round
               the
               world
               tow'rds
               change
               of
               Objects
            
          
           
             
               28.
               
            
             
               Nor
               is
               this
               now
               through
               virtuous
               shame
               confess'd
               ;
            
             
               But
               Rhodalind
               does
               force
               my
               conjur'd
               fear
               ,
            
             
               As
               Men
               whom
               evil
               spirits
               have
               possess'd
               ,
            
             
               Tell
               all
               when
               saintly
               Votaries
               appear
               .
            
          
           
             
               29.
               
            
             
               When
               she
               will
               grace
               the
               Bridal
               dignitie
               ,
            
             
               It
               will
               be
               soon
               to
               all
               young
               Monarchs
               known
               ;
            
             
               Who
               then
               by
               posting
               through
               the
               World
               ,
               will
               trie
            
             
               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
               Sutors
               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
               Empires
               drowsie
               Calms
               can
               wake
               ,
            
             
               In
               storms
               look
               out
               ,
               in
               darkness
               dangers
               find
               .
            
          
           
             
               32.
               
            
             
               A
               Prince
               who
               more
               inlarges
               pow'r
               than
               lands
               ;
            
             
               Whose
               greatness
               is
               not
               what
               his
               Map
               contains
               ;
            
             
               But
               thinks
               that
               his
               ,
               where
               he
               at
               full
               commands
               ,
            
             
               Not
               where
               his
               Coyn
               does
               pass
               ,
               but
               pow'r
               remains
               .
            
          
           
             
               33.
               
            
             
               Who
               knows
               that
               Pow'r
               can
               never
               be
               too
               high
            
             
               When
               by
               the
               Good
               possest
               ;
               fo●
               't
               is
               in
               them
            
             
               The
               swelling
               Nyle
               ;
               from
               which
               ,
               though
               people
               flie
               ,
            
             
               They
               prosper
               most
               by
               rising
               of
               the
               stream
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               34.
               
            
             
               Thus
               (
               Princess
               )
               you
               should
               chuse
               ,
               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
               Duk
               's
               reply
               ,
               which
               did
               produce
            
             
               Thoughts
               of
               a
               divers
               shape
               through
               sev'ral
               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
               Med'cines
               ,
               slowly
               in
               extreams
               .
            
          
           
             
               37.
               
            
             
               The
               King
               (
               secure
               in
               off'rd
               Empire
               )
               takes
            
             
               This
               forc'd
               excuse
               ,
               as
               troubled
               bashfulness
               ,
            
             
               And
               a
               disguise
               which
               suddain
               passion
               makes
               ,
            
             
               To
               hide
               more
               joy
               than
               prudence
               should
               express
               .
            
          
           
             
               38.
               
            
             
               And
               Rhodalind
               (
               who
               never
               lov'd
               before
               ,
            
             
               Nor
               could
               suspect
               his
               love
               was
               giv'n
               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
               impos'd
               ,
               not
               all
               his
               Art
            
             
               Can
               now
               instruct
               his
               dutie
               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
               Race
               in
               one
               ;
            
             
               So
               by
               the
               first
               of
               my
               unluckie
               Sex
               ,
            
             
               All
               in
               a
               single
               ruin
               were
               undone
               .
            
          
           
             
               43.
               
            
             
               Make
               Heav'nly
               Rhodalind
               your
               Bride
               !
               Whilst
               I
            
             
               Your
               once
               lov'd
               Maid
               ,
               excuse
               you
               ,
               since
               I
               know
            
             
               That
               virtuous
               Men
               forsake
               so
               willingly
            
             
               Long
               cherish'd
               life
               ,
               because
               to
               Heav'n
               they
               go
               .
            
          
           
             
               44.
               
            
             
               Let
               me
               her
               servant
               be
               !
               A
               dignitie
               ;
            
             
               Which
               if
               your
               pitie
               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
               op'ned
               ,
               and
               from
               thence
            
             
               (
               Form'd
               like
               a
               Heart
               )
               a
               chearfull
               Emrauld
               drew
               ;
            
             
               Chearfull
               ,
               as
               if
               the
               lively
               stone
               had
               sence
               .
            
          
           
             
               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
               Scithian
               ,
               and
               without
               a
               Cloud
               ;
            
             
               Not
               sick
               at
               fire
               ,
               nor
               languishing
               with
               time
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               48.
               
            
             
               Then
               thus
               he
               spake
               ,
               This
               (
               Birtha
               )
               from
               my
               Male
            
             
               Progenitours
               ,
               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
               pass'd
               since
               it
               from
               Bride
            
             
               To
               Bride
               did
               first
               succeed
               ;
               and
               though
               't
               is
               known
            
             
               From
               ancient
               lore
               ,
               that
               Gems
               much
               virtue
               hide
               ,
            
             
               And
               that
               the
               Emrauld
               is
               the
               Bridal
               Stone
               .
            
          
           
             
               50.
               
            
             
               Though
               much
               renown'd
               because
               it
               chastens
               loves
               ,
            
             
               And
               will
               ,
               when
               worn
               by
               the
               neglected
               wife
               ,
            
             
               Shew
               when
               her
               absent
               Lord
               disloyal
               proves
               ,
            
             
               By
               faintness
               ,
               and
               a
               pale
               decay
               of
               life
               ;
            
          
           
             
               51.
               
            
             
               Though
               Emraulds
               serve
               as
               Spies
               to
               jealous
               Brides
               ,
            
             
               Yet
               each
               compar'd
               to
               this
               does
               counsel
               keep
               ;
            
             
               Like
               a
               false
               Stone
               ,
               the
               Husbands
               falshood
               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
               artfull
               Pencil
               Birtha
               drawn
            
             
               (
               With
               grief
               all
               dark
               ,
               then
               straight
               with
               joy
               all
               light
               )
            
             
               He
               must
               have
               ●ancy'd
               first
               in
               early
               dawn
               ,
            
             
               A
               sudden
               break
               of
               beautie
               out
               of
               Night
               .
            
          
           
             
               54.
               
            
             
               Or
               first
               he
               must
               have
               mark'd
               what
               Paleness
               ,
               Fear
               ,
            
             
               Like
               nipping
               Frost
               ,
               did
               to
               her
               visage
               bring
               ;
            
             
               Then
               think
               he
               sees
               ,
               in
               a
               cold
               backward
               year
               ,
            
             
               A
               Rosie
               Morn
               begin
               a
               sudden
               Spring
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               55.
               
            
             
               Her
               joys
               (
               too
               vast
               to
               be
               contain'd
               in
               speech
               )
            
             
               Thus
               she
               a
               little
               spake
               ,
               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
               imbrace
               ,
            
             
               Boldly
               aspire
               to
               take
               what
               you
               have
               given
               ?
            
             
               But
               that
               your
               virtue
               has
               with
               Angels
               place
               ,
            
             
               And
               't
               is
               a
               virtue
               to
               aspire
               at
               Heav'n
               .
            
          
           
             
               57.
               
            
             
               And
               as
               tow'rds
               Heav'n
               all
               travel
               on
               their
               Knees
               ,
            
             
               So
               I
               tow'rds
               you
               ,
               though
               Love
               aspire
               ,
               will
               move
               :
            
             
               And
               were
               you
               Crown'd
               ,
               what
               could
               you
               better
               please
            
             
               Than
               aw'd
               obedience
               led
               by
               bolder
               Love
               ?
            
          
           
             
               58.
               
            
             
               If
               I
               forget
               the
               depth
               from
               whence
               I
               rise
               ,
            
             
               Far
               from
               your
               bosom
               banish'd
               be
               my
               heart
               ;
            
             
               Or
               claim
               a
               right
               by
               beautie
               to
               your
               Eyes
               ,
            
             
               Or
               proudly
               think
               my
               chastitie
               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
               dutie
               cancel
               with
               my
               life
               .
            
          
           
             
               60.
               
            
             
               And
               fruitfully
               if
               Heav'n
               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
               Flowr's
               she
               cannot
               hide
               .
            
          
           
             
               61.
               
            
             
               Orgo
               ,
               I
               so
               receive
               as
               I
               am
               taught
            
             
               By
               dutie
               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
               approach'd
               my
               ●ight
               ,
            
             
               He
               Twice
               made
               haste
               to
               drown
               me
               in
               my
               Tears
               :
            
             
               But
               now
               I
               am
               above
               his
               Planets
               spite
               ,
            
             
               And
               as
               for
               sin
               beg
               pardon
               for
               my
               fears
               .
            
          
           
             
               63.
               
            
             
               Thus
               spake
               she
               ;
               and
               with
               fix'd
               continu'd
               sight
               ,
            
             
               The
               Duke
               did
               all
               her
               bashfull
               beauties
               view
               ;
            
             
               Then
               they
               with
               kisses
               seal'd
               their
               sacred
               plight
               ;
            
             
               Like
               Flowr's
               still
               sweeter
               as
               they
               thicker
               grew
               .
            
          
           
             
               64.
               
            
             
               Yet
               must
               these
               pleasures
               feel
               ,
               though
               innocent
               ,
            
             
               The
               sickness
               of
               extreams
               ,
               and
               cannot
               last
               ;
            
             
               For
               Pow'r
               (
               Love's
               shun'd
               Impediment
               )
               has
               sent
            
             
               To
               tell
               the
               Duke
               ,
               his
               Monarch
               is
               in
               hast
               :
            
          
           
             
               65.
               
            
             
               And
               calls
               him
               to
               that
               triumph
               which
               he
               fears
            
             
               So
               as
               a
               Saint
               forgiven
               (
               whose
               Breast
               does
               all
            
             
               Heav'n's
               joys
               contain
               )
               wisely
               lov'd
               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
               obay
               ,
            
             
               A
               means
               to
               serve
               him
               less
               in
               Rhodalind
               .
            
          
           
             
               67.
               
            
             
               She
               weeping
               to
               her
               Closet-window
               hies
               ;
            
             
               Where
               she
               with
               tears
               does
               Rhodalind
               survay
               ;
            
             
               As
               dying
               Men
               ,
               who
               grieve
               that
               they
               have
               Eyes
               ,
            
             
               When
               they
               through
               Curtains
               spie
               the
               rising
               Day
               .
            
          
           
             
               68.
               
            
             
               The
               King
               has
               now
               his
               curious
               sight
               suffic'd
            
             
               With
               all
               lost
               Arts
               ,
               in
               their
               revival
               view'd
               ;
            
             
               Which
               when
               restor'd
               ,
               our
               pride
               thinks
               new
               devis'd
               :
            
             
               Fashions
               of
               Minds
               ,
               call'd
               new
               when
               but
               renew'd
               !
            
          
           
             
             
               69.
               
            
             
               The
               busie
               Court
               prepares
               to
               move
               ;
               on
               whom
            
             
               Their
               sad
               offended
               Eyes
               the
               Countrey
               cast
               ;
            
             
               Who
               never
               see
               enough
               where
               Monarchs
               come
               ,
            
             
               And
               nothing
               so
               uncivil
               seems
               as
               haste
               .
            
          
           
             
               70.
               
            
             
               As
               Men
               move
               slow
               ,
               who
               know
               they
               lose
               their
               way
               ,
            
             
               Ev'n
               so
               the
               Duke
               tow'rd
               Rhodalind
               does
               move
               ;
            
             
               Yet
               he
               does
               duteous
               fears
               ,
               and
               wonder
               pay
               ,
            
             
               Which
               are
               the
               first
               ,
               and
               dang'rous
               signs
               of
               Love.
               
            
          
           
             
               71.
               
            
             
               All
               his
               addresses
               much
               by
               Goltho
               were
            
             
               And
               Ulfinore
               observ'd
               ,
               who
               distant
               stand
               ,
            
             
               Not
               daring
               to
               approch
               his
               presence
               near
               ;
            
             
               But
               shun
               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
               refus'd
               more
               honour
               gains
               .
            
          
           
             
               74.
               
            
             
               And
               now
               their
               Chariots
               (
               readie
               to
               take
               wing
               )
            
             
               Are
               ev'n
               by
               weakest
               breath
               ,
               a
               whisper
               stay'd
               ;
            
             
               And
               but
               such
               whisper
               as
               a
               Page
               does
               bring
            
             
               To
               Laura's
               Woman
               from
               a
               Houshold
               Maid
               .
            
          
           
             
               75.
               
            
             
               But
               this
               low
               voice
               did
               raise
               in
               Laura's
               Ear
            
             
               An
               Eccho
               ,
               which
               from
               all
               redoubled
               soon
               ;
            
             
               Proclaiming
               such
               a
               Countrey
               beautie
               here
               ,
            
             
               As
               makes
               them
               look
               like
               Ev'ning
               to
               her
               Noon
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               76.
               
            
             
               And
               Laura
               (
               of
               her
               own
               high
               beautie
               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
               excus'd
            
             
               Her
               presence
               ,
               as
               a
               Maid
               but
               rudely
               taught
               ,
            
             
               Infirm
               in
               health
               ,
               and
               not
               to
               greatness
               us'd
               ;
            
             
               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
               bashfull
               Maids
               with
               publick
               view
               distrest
               ;
            
             
               And
               in
               their
               Glass
               ,
               themselves
               with
               fear
               discern
               ;
            
          
           
             
               79.
               
            
             
               She
               stopt
               this
               Challenge
               which
               Court
               Beautie
               made
            
             
               To
               Countrey
               shape
               ,
               not
               knowing
               Nature's
               hand
            
             
               Had
               Birtha
               dress'd
               ,
               nor
               that
               her self
               obay'd
            
             
               In
               vain
               ,
               whom
               conqu'ring
               Birtha
               did
               command
               .
            
          
           
             
               80.
               
            
             
               The
               Duke
               (
               whom
               virtuous
               kindness
               soon
               subdues
               )
            
             
               Though
               him
               his
               Bonds
               from
               Birtha
               highly
               please
               ,
            
             
               Yet
               seems
               to
               think
               ,
               that
               luckie
               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
               ;
            
             
               Shews
               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
               ev'ry
               Pattern
               draw
               )
            
             
               By
               that
               example
               could
               not
               work
               amiss
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               83.
               
            
             
               For
               soon
               she
               shap'd
               her
               Lord
               and
               her
               so
               kind
               ,
            
             
               So
               all
               of
               love
               ;
               till
               fancie
               wrought
               no
               more
            
             
               When
               she
               perceiv'd
               him
               sit
               with
               Rhodalind
               ;
            
             
               But
               froward-Painter-like
               the
               Copie
               tore
               .
            
          
           
             
               84.
               
            
             
               And
               now
               they
               move
               ;
               and
               she
               thus
               robb'd
               ,
               believes
            
             
               (
               Since
               with
               such
               haste
               they
               bear
               her
               wealth
               away
               )
            
             
               That
               they
               at
               best
               are
               but
               judicious
               Thieves
               ,
            
             
               And
               know
               the
               noble
               value
               of
               their
               prey
               .
            
          
           
             
               85.
               
            
             
               And
               then
               she
               thus
               complain'd
               ,
               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'
               unconcern'd
               would
               sleep
               ;
            
             
               Faise
               lights
               to
               scare
               poor
               Birds
               in
               Countrey
               shade
               !
            
          
           
             
               87.
               
            
             
               Or
               if
               our
               joys
               their
               own
               discov'rie
               make
               ,
            
             
               Envie
               (
               whose
               Tongue
               first
               kills
               whom
               she
               devours
               )
            
             
               Calls
               it
               our
               Pride
               ;
               Envie
               ,
               The
               poys'nous
               snake
               ,
            
             
               Whose
               breath
               blasts
               Maids
               ,
               as
               innocent
               as
               Flow'rs
               !
            
          
           
             
               88.
               
            
             
               Forgive
               me
               beautious
               Greatness
               ,
               if
               I
               grow
            
             
               Distemper'd
               with
               my
               fears
               ,
               and
               rudely
               long
            
             
               To
               be
               secure
               ;
               or
               praise
               your
               beautie
               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
               suddain
               fear
               ore
               all
               her
               beauty
               wrought
            
             
               The
               pale
               appearance
               of
               a
               killing
               Frost
               ;
            
             
               And
               carefull
               Orgo
               ,
               when
               she
               started
               ,
               thought
            
             
               She
               had
               her
               Pledge
               ,
               the
               precions
               Emrauld
               ,
               lost
               .
            
          
           
             
               91.
               
            
             
               But
               that
               kind
               Heart
               ,
               as
               constant
               as
               her
               own
               ,
            
             
               She
               did
               not
               miss
               ;
               't
               was
               from
               a
               suddain
               sence
               ,
            
             
               Lest
               in
               her
               Lover's
               heart
               some
               change
               was
               grown
               ,
            
             
               And
               it
               grew
               pale
               with
               that
               intelligence
               .
            
          
           
             
               92.
               
            
             
               Soon
               from
               her
               bosom
               she
               this
               Emrauld
               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
               Lilly
               Leaves
               .
            
          
           
             
               93.
               
            
             
               But
               such
               a
               chearfull
               green
               the
               Gem
               did
               sling
            
             
               Where
               she
               oppos'd
               the
               Rays
               ,
               as
               if
               she
               had
            
             
               Been
               dy'd
               in
               the
               complexion
               of
               the
               Spring
               ,
            
             
               Or
               were
               by
               Nimphs
               of
               Brittain
               Valleys
               clad
               .
            
          
           
             
               94.
               
            
             
               Soon
               she
               with
               earnest
               passion
               kist
               the
               Stone
               ;
            
             
               Which
               ne'r
               till
               then
               had
               suffer'd
               an
               eclips
               ;
            
             
               But
               then
               the
               Rays
               retir'd
               ,
               as
               if
               it
               shone
            
             
               In
               vain
               ,
               so
               near
               the
               Rubies
               of
               her
               Lips.
               
            
          
           
             
               95.
               
            
             
               Yet
               thence
               remov'd
               ,
               with
               publick
               glory
               shines
               !
            
             
               She
               Orgo
               blest
               ,
               who
               had
               this
               Relique
               brought
               ;
            
             
               And
               kept
               it
               like
               those
               Reliques
               lock'd
               in
               shrines
               ,
            
             
               By
               which
               the
               latest
               Miracles
               were
               wrought
               .
            
          
           
             
               96.
               
            
             
               For
               soon
               respect
               was
               up
               to
               rev'rence
               grown
               ;
            
             
               Which
               fear
               to
               Superstition
               would
               sublime
               ,
            
             
               But
               that
               her
               Father
               took
               Fear
               's
               Ladder
               down
               ;
            
             
               Lose
               steps
               by
               which
               distress
               to
               Heav'n
               would
               climbe
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               97.
               
            
             
               He
               knew
               ,
               when
               Fear
               shapes
               Heav'nly
               Pow'r
               so
               just
               ,
            
             
               (
               And
               terrible
               parts
               of
               that
               shape
               drawn
               true
               )
            
             
               It
               vails
               Heav'n's
               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
                 shews
                 her
                 Love's
                 success
                 .
              
               
                 Wise
                 ASTRAGON
                 with
                 reason
                 cures
                 despair
                 ,
              
               
                 And
                 the
                 Afflicted
                 chides
                 for
                 partial
                 Pray'r
                 .
              
               
                 With
                 grief
                 the
                 secret
                 Rivals
                 take
                 their
                 leave
                 ,
              
               
                 And
                 but
                 dark
                 hope
                 for
                 hidden
                 love
                 receive
                 .
              
            
          
           
             
               1.
               
            
             
               TO
               shew
               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
               straight
               kindle
               by
               her
               light
               their
               Eyes
               ;
            
             
               Which
               when
               to
               hers
               compar'd
               ,
               Poets
               would
               strike
            
             
               Such
               sparks
               to
               light
               their
               Lamps
               ,
               ere
               Day
               does
               rise
               .
            
          
           
             
               3.
               
            
             
               But
               ,
               O
               vain
               Jealousie
               !
               why
               dost
               thou
               haste
            
             
               To
               find
               those
               evils
               which
               too
               soon
               are
               brought
               ?
            
             
               Love's
               frantick
               Valour
               !
               which
               so
               rashly
               fast
            
             
               Seeks
               dangers
               ,
               as
               if
               none
               would
               come
               unsought
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               4.
               
            
             
               As
               often
               fairest
               Mo●●s
               soon
               cover'd
               be
               ,
            
             
               So
               she
               with
               dark'ning
               thoughts
               is
               clouded
               now
               ;
            
             
               Looks
               so
               ,
               as
               weaker
               Eyes
               small
               objects
               see
               ;
            
             
               Or
               studious
               States-men
               who
               contract
               the
               Brow.
               
            
          
           
             
               5.
               
            
             
               Or
               like
               some
               thinking
               Sybill
               that
               would
               find
            
             
               The
               sence
               of
               mystick
               words
               by
               Angels
               giv'n
               !
            
             
               And
               this
               fair
               Politick
               bred
               in
               her
               mind
            
             
               (
               Restless
               as
               Seas
               )
               a
               deep
               designe
               on
               Heav'n
               .
            
          
           
             
               6.
               
            
             
               To
               Pray'rs
               plain
               Temple
               she
               does
               hast
               unseen
               ;
            
             
               Which
               though
               not
               grac'd
               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
               designe
               .
            
          
           
             
               8.
               
            
             
               And
               when
               this
               holy
               huswifry
               was
               past
               ,
            
             
               Her
               vows
               she
               sends
               to
               Heav'n
               ,
               which
               thither
               fly
            
             
               Intire
               ;
               not
               broken
               by
               unthinking
               hast
               ;
            
             
               Like
               Sinners
               Sparks
               that
               in
               ascending
               dye
               .
            
          
           
             
               9.
               
            
             
               Thence
               she
               departs
               ;
               but
               at
               this
               Temple
               Gate
            
             
               A
               needy
               Crowd
               (
               call'd
               by
               her
               Summons
               there
               )
            
             
               With
               such
               assurance
               for
               her
               bounty
               waite
               ;
            
             
               As
               if
               ne'r
               failing
               Heav'n
               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
               travell
               save
               ,
            
             
               And
               at
               high
               worth
               were
               to
               her
               Mother
               sold.
               
            
          
           
             
             
               11.
               
            
             
               Figures
               of
               fighting
               Chiefs
               ,
               born
               to
               orecome
            
             
               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
               Mothers
               Legacy
               ;
            
             
               And
               well
               she
               knew
               it
               was
               of
               special
               price
               ;
            
             
               But
               she
               has
               begg'd
               what
               Heav'n
               must
               not
               deny
               ;
            
             
               So
               would
               not
               make
               a
               common
               Sacrifice
               .
            
          
           
             
               13.
               
            
             
               To
               the
               black
               Temple
               she
               her
               Sorrow
               bears
               ;
            
             
               Where
               she
               out-begg'd
               the
               tardy
               begging
               Thief
               ;
            
             
               Made
               weeping
               Magdaline
               but
               poor
               in
               Tears
               ,
            
             
               Yet
               Silent
               as
               their
               Pictures
               was
               her
               Grief
               .
            
          
           
             
               14.
               
            
             
               Her
               purpos'd
               penance
               she
               did
               here
               fulfill
               ;
            
             
               Those
               Pictures
               dress'd
               ,
               and
               the
               spent
               Lamp
               reliev'd
            
             
               With
               fragrant
               Oyls
               ,
               dropp'd
               from
               her
               Silver
               Still
               ;
            
             
               And
               now
               for
               those
               that
               there
               sat
               mourning
               ,
               griev'd
               .
            
          
           
             
               15.
               
            
             
               Those
               Penitients
               ,
               who
               knew
               her
               innocence
               ,
            
             
               Wonder
               what
               Parents
               sin
               she
               did
               bemoan
               ;
            
             
               And
               venture
               (
               though
               they
               go
               unpardon'd
               thence
               )
            
             
               More
               sighs
               for
               her
               redress
               than
               for
               their
               own
               .
            
          
           
             
               16.
               
            
             
               Now
               jealousie
               no
               more
               benights
               her
               face
               ,
            
             
               Her
               courage
               beauteous
               grows
               ,
               and
               grief
               decays
               ;
            
             
               And
               with
               such
               joy
               as
               shipwrack'd
               Men
               imbrace
            
             
               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
               out-shin'd
               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
               straight
               to
               pay
               her
               gratitude
               ;
            
             
               And
               could
               not
               think
               her
               beauty
               in
               distress
               ,
            
             
               Whilst
               to
               her
               Love
               ,
               her
               Lord
               is
               still
               subdu'd
               .
            
          
           
             
               20.
               
            
             
               The
               Altar
               she
               with
               Imag'ry
               array'd
               ;
            
             
               Where
               Needles
               boldly
               ,
               as
               a
               Pencil
               ,
               wrought
            
             
               The
               Story
               of
               that
               humble
               Syrian
               Mayd
               ,
            
             
               Who
               Pitchers
               bore
               ,
               yet
               Kings
               to
               Juda
               brought
               .
            
          
           
             
               21.
               
            
             
               And
               there
               she
               of
               that
               precious
               Linnen
               spreds
               ,
            
             
               Which
               in
               the
               consecrated
               Moneth
               is
               spun
            
             
               By
               Lombard
               Brides
               ;
               for
               whom
               in
               empty
               Beds
            
             
               Their
               Bridegrooms
               sigh
               till
               the
               succeeding
               Moon
               .
            
          
           
             
               22.
               
            
             
               'T
               is
               in
               that
               Moon
               ,
               bleach'd
               by
               her
               fuller
               Light
               ;
            
             
               And
               wash'd
               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
               Quire
               of
               Birds
               she
               feeds
               ,
            
             
               Which
               oft
               had
               here
               the
               Virgin-Consort
               fill'd
               ;
            
             
               She
               diets
               them
               with
               Aromatick
               seeds
               ;
            
             
               And
               quench'd
               their
               Thirst
               with
               Rainbowe-Dew
               distill'd
               .
            
          
           
             
               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
               license
               ,
               spoke
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               25.
               
            
             
               Why
               art
               thou
               now
               ,
               who
               hast
               so
               joyfull
               liv'd
            
             
               Ere
               love
               thou
               knewst
               ,
               become
               with
               Love
               so
               sad
               ?
            
             
               If
               thou
               hast
               lost
               fair
               Virtue
               ,
               then
               be
               griev'd
               ;
            
             
               Else
               shew
               thou
               know'st
               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
               !
            
             
               Kings
               honour
               is
               but
               little
               ,
               till
               made
               much
            
             
               By
               Subjects
               Tongues
               !
               Elixar-Love
               turns
               all
            
             
               To
               pow'rfull
               Gold
               ,
               where
               it
               does
               onely
               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
               Pow'rs
               so
               levell'd
               be
               ,
            
             
               That
               there
               ,
               affection
               governs
               more
               than
               aw
               .
            
          
           
             
               29.
               
            
             
               But
               thou
               dost
               love
               where
               Rhodalind
               does
               love
               ;
            
             
               And
               thence
               thy
               griefs
               of
               jealousie
               begin
               ;
            
             
               A
               cause
               which
               does
               thy
               sorrow
               vainly
               move
               ;
            
             
               Since
               't
               is
               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
               Heav'n
               art
               guided
               by
               thy
               fear
               .
            
          
           
             
               31.
               
            
             
               Wild
               Fear
               !
               Which
               has
               a
               Common-wealth
               devis'd
            
             
               In
               Heav'n's
               old
               Realm
               ,
               and
               Saints
               in
               Senates
               fram'd
               ;
            
             
               Such
               as
               by
               which
               ,
               were
               Beasts
               well
               civilliz'd
               ,
            
             
               They
               would
               suspect
               their
               Tamer
               Man
               ,
               untam'd
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               32.
               
            
             
               Wild
               Fear
               !
               Which
               has
               the
               Indian
               worship
               made
               ,
            
             
               Where
               each
               unletter'd
               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
               Cowards
               pray'r
               .
            
          
           
             
               34.
               
            
             
               For
               when
               by
               Fear
               thy
               noble
               Reason's
               led
            
             
               (
               Reason
               ,
               not
               Shape
               gives
               us
               so
               great
               degree
            
             
               Above
               our
               Subjects
               ,
               Beasts
               )
               then
               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
               preferr'd
            
             
               Their
               quarrels
               ,
               which
               they
               call
               their
               pray'rs
               ,
               to
               Heav'n
               ;
            
             
               And
               thought
               that
               Heav'n
               would
               like
               themselves
               have
               err'd
               ,
            
             
               Depriving
               some
               ,
               of
               what
               's
               to
               others
               giv'n
               .
            
          
           
             
               38.
               
            
             
               Thence
               Modern
               Faith
               becomes
               so
               weak
               and
               blind
               ,
            
             
               Thinks
               Heav'n
               in
               ruling
               other
               Worlds
               employ'd
               ,
            
             
               And
               is
               not
               mindfull
               of
               our
               abject
               Kind
               ,
            
             
               Because
               all
               Sutes
               are
               not
               by
               all
               enjoy'd
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               39.
               
            
             
               How
               firm
               was
               Faith
               ,
               when
               humbly
               Sutes
               for
               need
               ,
            
             
               Not
               choice
               were
               made
               ?
               then
               (
               free
               from
               all
               despair
            
             
               As
               mod'rate
               Birds
               ,
               who
               sing
               for
               daily
               seed
               )
            
             
               Like
               Birds
               ,
               our
               Songs
               of
               praise
               included
               pray'r
               .
            
          
           
             
               40.
               
            
             
               Thy
               Hopes
               are
               by
               thy
               Rivals
               virtue
               aw'd
               ;
            
             
               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
               disgrac'd
               ;
            
             
               Where
               glorious
               Vice
               ,
               weak
               Eyes
               admire
               ;
            
             
               And
               Virtue
               's
               plainness
               is
               by
               Art
               out-fac'd
               )
            
             
               She
               makes
               a
               Temple
               by
               her
               Vestal
               Fire
               .
            
          
           
             
               42.
               
            
             
               Though
               there
               ,
               Vice
               sweetly
               dress'd
               ,
               does
               tempt
               like
               bliss
            
             
               Even
               Cautious
               Saints
               ;
               and
               single
               Virtue
               seem
            
             
               Fantastick
               ,
               where
               brave
               Vice
               in
               fashion
               is
               ;
            
             
               Yet
               she
               has
               brought
               plain
               Virtue
               in
               esteem
               .
            
          
           
             
               43.
               
            
             
               Yours
               is
               a
               virtue
               of
               inferiour
               rate
               ,
            
             
               Herein
               the
               dark
               a
               Pattern
               ,
               where
               't
               is
               barr'd
            
             
               From
               all
               your
               Sex
               that
               should
               her
               imitate
               ,
            
             
               And
               of
               that
               pomp
               which
               should
               her
               Foes
               reward
               :
            
          
           
             
               44.
               
            
             
               Retir'd
               ,
               as
               weak
               Monasticks
               flie
               from
               care
               ;
            
             
               Or
               devout
               Cowards
               steal
               to
               Forts
               ,
               their
               Cells
               ,
            
             
               From
               pleasures
               ,
               which
               the
               worlds
               chief
               dangers
               are
               :
            
             
               Hers
               passes
               yours
               ,
               as
               Valour
               Fear
               excels
               .
            
          
           
             
               45.
               
            
             
               This
               is
               your
               Rival
               in
               your
               suit
               to
               Heav'n
               :
            
             
               But
               Heav'n
               is
               partial
               if
               it
               give
               to
               you
            
             
               What
               to
               her
               bolder
               Virtue
               should
               be
               giv'n
               ;
            
             
               Since
               yours
               ,
               pomps
               ,
               Virtue
               's
               dangers
               ,
               never
               knew
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               46.
               
            
             
               Your
               suit
               would
               have
               your
               love
               with
               love
               repay'd
               ;
            
             
               To
               which
               Arts
               conquests
               ,
               when
               all
               science
               flows
               ,
            
             
               Compar'd
               ,
               are
               Students
               dreams
               ;
               and
               triumphs
               made
            
             
               By
               glorious
               Courts
               and
               Camps
               ,
               but
               painted
               shows
               .
            
          
           
             
               47.
               
            
             
               Even
               Art
               's
               Dictators
               ,
               who
               give
               Laws
               to
               Schools
               ,
            
             
               Are
               but
               dead
               Heads
               ;
               States-men
               ,
               who
               Empire
               move
               ,
            
             
               But
               prosp'rous
               Spies
               ;
               and
               Victors
               ,
               fighting
               Fools
               ,
            
             
               When
               they
               their
               Trophies
               rank
               with
               those
               of
               Love.
               
            
          
           
             
               48.
               
            
             
               And
               when
               against
               your
               fears
               I
               thus
               declame
               ,
            
             
               (
               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
               ;
            
             
               Trie
               if
               her
               virtue's
               force
               you
               can
               endure
            
             
               In
               the
               same
               Sphear
               ,
               without
               eclipse
               of
               mind
               .
            
          
           
             
               51.
               
            
             
               Your
               Lord
               may
               there
               your
               Souls
               compare
               ;
               for
               we
               ,
            
             
               Though
               Souls
               ,
               like
               stars
               ,
               make
               not
               their
               greatnes
               known
               ;
            
             
               May
               find
               which
               greater
               than
               the
               other
               be
               ;
            
             
               The
               Stars
               are
               measur'd
               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
               fearfull
               ,
               when
               to
               death
               afraid
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               53.
               
            
             
               These
               words
               he
               clos'd
               with
               kindness
               ,
               and
               retir'd
               ;
            
             
               In
               which
               her
               quick
               Ey'd
               Hope
               three
               blessings
               spy'd
               ;
            
             
               With
               joy
               of
               being
               near
               her
               Lord
               ,
               inspir'd
               ,
            
             
               With
               seeing
               Courts
               '
               ,
               and
               having
               Virtue
               try'd
               .
            
          
           
             
               54.
               
            
             
               She
               now
               with
               jealous
               questions
               utter'd
               fast
               ,
            
             
               Fils
               Orgo's
               Ear
               ,
               which
               there
               unmark'd
               are
               gon
               ,
            
             
               As
               Throngs
               through
               guarded
               Gates
               ,
               when
               all
               make
               haste
               ,
            
             
               Not
               giving
               Warders
               time
               t'
               examine
               one
               .
            
          
           
             
               55.
               
            
             
               She
               ask'd
               if
               Fame
               had
               render'd
               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
               faire
               Eyes
               those
               but
               invites
            
             
               Who
               to
               her
               wit
               ascribe
               the
               Victory
               )
            
             
               In
               conquest
               of
               a
               speechless
               Mayd
               delights
               ?
            
             
               And
               ere
               to
               this
               prompt
               Orgo
               could
               reply
               ,
            
          
           
             
               57.
               
            
             
               She
               ask'd
               ,
               in
               what
               consist
               the
               Charms
               of
               Court
               ?
            
             
               Whether
               those
               pleasures
               so
               resistless
               were
            
             
               As
               common
               Country
               Travailers
               report
               ,
            
             
               And
               such
               as
               innocence
               had
               cause
               to
               fear
               ?
            
          
           
             
               58.
               
            
             
               What
               kind
               of
               Angels
               shape
               young
               Fav'rites
               take
               ?
            
             
               And
               being
               Angels
               ,
               how
               they
               can
               be
               bad
               ?
            
             
               Or
               why
               delight
               so
               cruelly
               to
               make
            
             
               Fair
               Country
               Mayds
               ,
               return
               from
               Court
               so
               sad
               ?
            
          
           
             
               59.
               
            
             
               More
               had
               she
               ask'd
               (
               for
               study
               warm'd
               her
               brow
               ,
            
             
               With
               thinking
               how
               her
               love
               might
               prosp'rous
               be
               )
            
             
               But
               that
               young
               ulfinore
               approach'd
               her
               now
               ,
            
             
               And
               Goltho
               ,
               warmer
               with
               designe
               than
               she
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               60.
               
            
             
               Though
               Goltho's
               hope
               (
               in
               Indian
               Feathers
               clad
               )
            
             
               Was
               light
               ,
               and
               gay
               ,
               as
               if
               he
               meant
               to
               flie
               ;
            
             
               Yet
               he
               no
               farther
               than
               his
               Rival
               had
            
             
               Advanc'd
               in
               promise
               ,
               from
               her
               Tongue
               ,
               or
               Eye
               .
            
          
           
             
               61.
               
            
             
               When
               distant
               ,
               talk'd
               ,
               as
               if
               he
               plighted
               were
               ;
            
             
               For
               hope
               in
               Love
               ,
               like
               Cowards
               in
               the
               War
               ,
            
             
               Talks
               bravely
               till
               the
               enterprise
               be
               near
               ;
            
             
               But
               then
               discretion
               dares
               not
               venture
               far
               .
            
          
           
             
               62.
               
            
             
               He
               never
               durst
               approch
               her
               watchfull
               Eye
            
             
               With
               studious
               gazing
               ,
               nor
               with
               sighs
               her
               Ear
               ;
            
             
               But
               still
               seem'd
               frolick
               ,
               like
               a
               States-man's
               Spie
               ;
            
             
               As
               if
               his
               thoughtfull
               bus'ness
               were
               not
               there
               .
            
          
           
             
               63.
               
            
             
               Still
               ,
               Superstitious
               Lovers
               Beauty
               paint
               ,
            
             
               (
               Thinking
               themselves
               but
               Devils
               )
               so
               divine
               ,
            
             
               As
               if
               the
               thing
               belov'd
               ,
               were
               all
               a
               Saint
               ;
            
             
               And
               ev'ry
               place
               she
               enter'd
               ,
               were
               a
               Shrine
               .
            
          
           
             
               64.
               
            
             
               And
               though
               last
               Night
               were
               the
               auspitious
               time
            
             
               When
               they
               resolv'd
               to
               quit
               their
               bashfull
               fears
               ;
            
             
               Yet
               soon
               (
               as
               to
               the
               Sun
               when
               Eaglets
               climbe
               )
            
             
               They
               stoop'd
               ,
               And
               quench'd
               their
               daring
               Eyes
               in
               tears
               .
            
          
           
             
               65.
               
            
             
               And
               now
               (
               for
               Hope
               ,
               that
               formal
               C●ntry
               ,
               stands
            
             
               All
               Winds
               and
               Showrs
               though
               there
               but
               vainly
               plac'd
               ,
            
             
               They
               to
               Verona
               beg
               her
               dear
               commands
               ;
            
             
               And
               look
               to
               be
               with
               parting
               kindness
               grac'd
               .
            
          
           
             
               66.
               
            
             
               Both
               dayly
               journies
               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
               lib'ral
               looks
               she
               gave
               ,
            
             
               But
               in
               a
               kind
               respectfull
               lowliness
               ,
            
             
               Them
               honour
               gives
               ,
               yet
               did
               her
               honour
               save
               ;
            
             
               Which
               gently
               thus
               she
               did
               to
               both
               express
               .
            
          
           
             
               68.
               
            
             
               High
               heav'n
               that
               did
               direct
               your
               Eyes
               the
               way
            
             
               To
               chuse
               so
               well
               ,
               when
               you
               your
               friendship
               made
               ,
            
             
               Still
               keep
               you
               joyn'd
               ,
               that
               daring
               Envie
               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
               Flow'r
               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
               eithers
               Heart
            
             
               For
               virtue
               and
               delight
               of
               life
               shall
               chuse
               ,
            
             
               Quit
               in
               your
               siege
               the
               long
               defence
               of
               Art
               ,
            
             
               And
               Nature's
               freedom
               in
               a
               treatie
               lose
               .
            
          
           
             
               73.
               
            
             
               This
               gave
               cold
               Ulfinore
               in
               Love's
               long
               Night
            
             
               Some
               hope
               of
               Day
               ;
               as
               Sea-men
               that
               are
               run
            
             
               Far
               North-ward
               ,
               find
               long
               Winters
               to
               be
               light
               ,
            
             
               And
               in
               the
               Cynosure
               adore
               the
               Sun.
               
            
          
           
             
             
               74.
               
            
             
               It
               shew'd
               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
               seem'd
               to
               say
               ,
            
             
               In
               prettie
               Flow'rs
               of
               Love's
               wild
               Rhetorick
               ;
            
             
               Which
               mov'd
               not
               her
               ,
               though
               Oratours
               thus
               ●way
            
             
               Assemblies
               ,
               which
               since
               wild
               ,
               wild
               Musick
               like
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             CANTO
             the
             Sixth
             .
          
           
             
               The
               ARGUMENT
               .
            
             
               
                 Here
                 ULFIN
                 reads
                 the
                 art
                 to
                 ULFINORE
              
               
                 Of
                 wisely
                 getting
                 ,
                 and
                 increasing
                 Pow'r
                 .
              
               
                 The
                 Rivals
                 to
                 VERONA
                 haste
                 ,
                 and
                 there
              
               
                 Young
                 GOLTHO'S
                 frailtie
                 does
                 too
                 soon
                 appear
                 .
              
               
                 Black
                 DALGA'S
                 fatal
                 beautie
                 is
                 reveal'd
                 ;
              
               
                 But
                 her
                 descent
                 and
                 Storie
                 ●s
                 conceal'd
                 .
              
            
          
           
             
               1.
               
            
             
               OLd
               Ulfin
               parting
               now
               with
               Ulfinore
               ,
            
             
               His
               study'd
               thoughts
               ,
               and
               of
               a
               grave
               import
            
             
               Thus
               utter'd
               ,
               as
               well
               read
               in
               ancient
               Lore
               ;
            
             
               When
               prudence
               kept
               up
               greatness
               in
               the
               Court.
               
            
          
           
             
               2.
               
            
             
               Heav'n
               guide
               thee
               Son
               ,
               through
               Honour's
               sl●pp'ry
               way
               ;
            
             
               The
               Hill
               ,
               which
               warie
               painfulness
               must
               climbe
               ;
            
             
               And
               often
               rest
               ,
               to
               take
               a
               full
               survay
            
             
               Of
               ev'ry
               path
               trod
               by
               Experienc'd
               Time.
               
            
          
           
             
             
               3.
               
            
             
               Rise
               glorious
               with
               thy
               Master
               's
               hopefull
               Morn
               !
            
             
               His
               favour
               calls
               thee
               to
               his
               secret
               Breast
               ;
            
             
               Great
               Gondibert
               !
               to
               spatious
               ▪
               Empire
               born
               ;
            
             
               Whose
               carefull
               Head
               will
               in
               thy
               Bosom
               rest
               .
            
          
           
             
               4.
               
            
             
               Be
               good
               !
               and
               then
               in
               pitie
               soon
               be
               great
               !
            
             
               For
               virtuous
               men
               should
               toil
               to
               compass
               pow'r
               ,
            
             
               Lest
               when
               the
               Bad
               possess
               Dominion's
               Seat
               ,
            
             
               We
               vainly
               weep
               for
               those
               whom
               they
               devour
               .
            
          
           
             
               5.
               
            
             
               Our
               virtue
               without
               pow'r
               but
               harmless
               is
               !
            
             
               The
               Good
               ,
               who
               lazily
               are
               good
               at
               home
               ,
            
             
               And
               safely
               rest
               in
               doing
               not
               amiss
               ,
            
             
               Flie
               from
               the
               Bad
               ,
               for
               fear
               of
               Martyrdome
               .
            
          
           
             
               6.
               
            
             
               Be
               in
               thy
               greatness
               easie
               ,
               and
               thy
               Brow
            
             
               Still
               clear
               ,
               and
               comforting
               as
               breaking
               Light
               ;
            
             
               The
               Great
               ,
               with
               bus'ness
               troubled
               ,
               weakly
               bow
               ;
            
             
               Pow'r
               should
               with
               publick
               Burdens
               walk
               upright
               !
            
          
           
             
               7.
               
            
             
               We
               chearfulness
               ,
               as
               innocence
               commend
               !
            
             
               The
               Great
               ,
               may
               with
               benign
               and
               civil
               Eyes
            
             
               The
               People
               wrong
               ,
               yet
               not
               the
               wrong'd
               offend
               ;
            
             
               Who
               feel
               most
               wrong
               from
               those
               who
               them
               despise
               !
            
          
           
             
               8.
               
            
             
               Since
               wrongs
               must
               be
               ,
               Complaints
               must
               shew
               the
               Grie
            
             
               And
               Favourites
               should
               walk
               still
               open
               Ear'd
               ;
            
             
               For
               of
               the
               suing
               Croud
               ,
               half
               are
               reliev'd
            
             
               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
               scorn'd
               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
               ;
            
             
               Pow'r
               (
               Fortun
               's
               Sail
               )
               should
               not
               for
               threatnings
               strike
               ;
            
             
               In
               Boats
               bestorm'd
               all
               check
               at
               those
               that
               row
               .
            
          
           
             
               11.
               
            
             
               Courts
               little
               Arts
               contemn
               dark
               Holes
               to
               save
            
             
               Retreated
               Pow'r
               ,
               when
               fear
               does
               Friendship
               feign
               ;
            
             
               Poor
               thieves
               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
               shews
               it self
               in
               crooked
               Lines
               ;
            
             
               And
               her
               plain
               Txet
               the
               Scepticks
               dare
               not
               doubt
               .
            
          
           
             
               13.
               
            
             
               Revenge
               (
               weak
               Women's
               Valour
               ,
               and
               in
               Men
            
             
               The
               Ruffians
               Cowardise
               ,
               )
               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
               ,
            
             
               'T
               is
               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
               display'd
               !
            
             
               And
               move
               not
               till
               an
               open
               Foe
               appears
               !
            
             
               Courts
               lurking
               war
               shews
               Justice
               is
               afraid
               ;
            
             
               And
               no
               broad
               Sword
               ,
               but
               a
               closs
               Ponyard
               wears
               .
            
          
           
             
               16.
               
            
             
               To
               kill
               ,
               shews
               Fear
               dares
               not
               more
               fears
               endure
               !
            
             
               When
               wrong'd
               ,
               destroy
               not
               with
               thy
               Foes
               thy
               fame
               ,
            
             
               The
               Valiant
               by
               forgiving
               mischief
               ,
               cure
               ;
            
             
               And
               it
               is
               Hea●'n's
               great
               conquest
               to
               reclaim
               ?
            
          
           
             
             
               17.
               
            
             
               Be
               by
               thy
               bountie
               known
               !
               for
               since
               the
               needs
            
             
               Of
               life
               ,
               so
               rudely
               press
               the
               bold
               and
               wise
               ;
            
             
               The
               bounteous
               heart
               ,
               all
               but
               his
               God
               exceeds
               ;
            
             
               Whom
               bountie
               best
               makes
               known
               to
               Mortal
               Eyes
               !
            
          
           
             
               18.
               
            
             
               And
               to
               be
               bountefull
               ,
               be
               rich
               !
               for
               those
            
             
               Fam'd
               Talkers
               who
               in
               Schools
               did
               wealth
               despise
               ,
            
             
               Taught
               doctrine
               ,
               which
               at
               whom
               would
               Empire
               lose
               ,
            
             
               If
               not
               believ'd
               first
               by
               their
               Enemies
               .
            
          
           
             
               19.
               
            
             
               And
               though
               in
               ruling
               Ministers
               of
               State
               ,
            
             
               The
               People
               wretched
               povertie
               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
               Heav'ns
               great
               Movers
               that
               inrich
               the
               Earth
               ;
            
             
               Whos
               's
               Moments
               sloth
               would
               shew
               the
               world
               undone
               ,
            
             
               And
               make
               the
               Spring
               straight
               bury
               all
               her
               birth
               .
            
          
           
             
               21.
               
            
             
               Rich
               are
               the
               diligent
               !
               who
               can
               command
            
             
               Time
               ,
               Natures
               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
               Beautie
               !
               that
               unluckie
               Shrine
               !
            
             
               Where
               all
               Love's
               Thieves
               come
               bowing
               to
               their
               P●●
               ;
            
             
               And
               honour
               steal
               ;
               which
               Beautie
               makes
               divine
               :
            
             
               Be
               thou
               still
               kind
               ,
               but
               never
               to
               betray
               !
            
          
           
             
               23.
               
            
             
               Heav'n
               studie
               more
               in
               Nature
               ,
               than
               in
               Schools
               !
            
             
               Let
               Nature's
               Image
               never
               by
               thee
               pass
            
             
               Like
               unmark'd
               Time
               ;
               but
               those
               unthinking
               Fools
            
             
               Despise
               ,
               who
               spie
               not
               Godhead
               through
               her
               Glass
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               24.
               
            
             
               These
               precepts
               Ulfinore
               ,
               with
               duteous
               care
               ,
            
             
               In
               h●s
               Hearts
               Closet
               lock'd
               ,
               his
               faithfull
               Brest
               !
            
             
               And
               now
               the
               Rival-friends
               for
               Court
               prepare
               ;
            
             
               And
               much
               their
               Youth
               ,
               is
               by
               their
               haste
               exprest
               .
            
          
           
             
               25.
               
            
             
               They
               yet
               ne'r
               saw
               Verona
               ,
               nor
               the
               Court
               ;
            
             
               And
               expectation
               lengthens
               much
               their
               way
               ;
            
             
               Since
               by
               that
               great
               Inviter
               urg'd
               ,
               Report
               ;
            
             
               And
               thither
               flie
               on
               Coursers
               of
               Relay
               .
            
          
           
             
               26.
               
            
             
               Ere
               to
               his
               Western
               Mines
               the
               Sun
               retir'd
               ,
            
             
               They
               his
               great
               Mint
               for
               all
               those
               Mines
               behold
               ,
            
             
               Verona
               ,
               which
               in
               Tow'rs
               to
               Heav'n
               aspir'd
               ,
            
             
               Guilt
               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
               ,
               sate
               ;
            
             
               Made
               to
               mock
               life
               ,
               and
               onely
               life
               did
               want
               .
            
          
           
             
               28.
               
            
             
               Still
               strange
               ,
               and
               divers
               seem
               their
               Objects
               now
               ,
            
             
               And
               still
               increase
               ,
               where
               e're
               their
               Eyes
               they
               cast
               ;
            
             
               Of
               lazy
               Pag'ant-Greatness
               ,
               moving
               slow
               ,
            
             
               And
               angry
               bus'ness
               ,
               rushing
               on
               in
               haste
               .
            
          
           
             
               29.
               
            
             
               All
               strange
               to
               them
               ,
               as
               they
               to
               all
               appear
               ;
            
             
               Yet
               less
               like
               strangers
               gaz'd
               than
               those
               they
               see
               ;
            
             
               Who
               this
               glad
               Day
               the
               Duke's
               Spectatours
               were
               ;
            
             
               To
               mark
               how
               with
               his
               fame
               his
               looks
               agree
               .
            
          
           
             
               30.
               
            
             
               And
               guess
               that
               these
               are
               of
               his
               fighting
               Train
               ,
            
             
               Renown'd
               in
               Youth
               :
               who
               by
               their
               wonder
               stay'd
               ,
            
             
               And
               by
               their
               own
               ,
               but
               slowly
               passage
               gain
               ;
            
             
               But
               now
               much
               more
               their
               progress
               is
               delay'd
               :
            
          
           
             
             
               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
               gaz'd
               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
               prise
               .
            
          
           
             
               33.
               
            
             
               Goltho
               did
               like
               a
               blushless
               Statue
               stare
               ;
            
             
               Boldly
               her
               practis'd
               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
               prosp'rous
               Art
               ,
            
             
               A
               seeming
               modesty
               ,
               the
               Window
               clos'd
               ;
            
             
               Wisely
               delay'd
               his
               Eyes
               ,
               since
               of
               his
               Heart
            
             
               She
               thought
               ,
               she
               had
               sufficiently
               dispos'd
               .
            
          
           
             
               35.
               
            
             
               And
               he
               thus
               straight
               complain'd
               !
               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
               bloudy
               slaughters
               ,
               and
               perhaps
               of
               those
            
             
               Who
               might
               beget
               such
               Beauties
               as
               this
               Maid
               ;
            
             
               The
               Sleepy
               here
               are
               never
               wak'd
               with
               Foes
               ;
            
             
               Nor
               are
               of
               ought
               but
               Ladies
               frowns
               afraid
               .
            
          
           
             
               37.
               
            
             
               Ere
               he
               could
               more
               lament
               ,
               a
               little
               Page
               ,
            
             
               Clean
               ,
               and
               perfum'd
               (
               one
               whom
               this
               Dame
               did
               breed
            
             
               To
               guess
               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
               ling'ring
               loath
               to
               erre
               ,
            
             
               As
               Wind-bound
               Men
               ,
               whose
               sloth
               their
               first
               Wind
               lost
               .
            
          
           
             
               39.
               
            
             
               And
               when
               his
               Friend
               advis'd
               him
               to
               take
               care
               ;
            
             
               He
               gravely
               ,
               as
               a
               Man
               new
               potent
               grown
               ,
            
             
               Protests
               he
               shall
               in
               all
               his
               Fortunes
               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'r
               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
               Jett
               ,
               light
               Goltho
               is
               but
               Straw
               .
            
          
           
             
               42.
               
            
             
               Nicely
               as
               Bridegrooms
               was
               her
               Chamber
               drest
               ,
            
             
               Her
               Bed
               ,
               as
               Brides
               ;
               and
               richer
               than
               a
               Throne
               ,
            
             
               And
               sweeter
               seem'd
               than
               the
               Circania's
               Nest
               ,
            
             
               Though
               built
               in
               Eastern
               Groves
               of
               Cinamon
               .
            
          
           
             
               43.
               
            
             
               The
               price
               of
               Princes
               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
               her self
               is
               caught
               .
            
          
           
             
               44.
               
            
             
               She
               sway'd
               by
               sinfull
               Beauties
               destiny
               ,
            
             
               Finds
               her
               Tyrannick
               Pow'r
               must
               now
               expire
               ,
            
             
               Who
               meant
               to
               kindle
               Goltho
               in
               her
               Eye
               ,
            
             
               But
               to
               her
               breast
               has
               brought
               the
               raging
               fire
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               45.
               
            
             
               Yet
               ev'n
               in
               simple
               Love
               she
               uses
               Art
               ,
            
             
               Though
               weepings
               are
               from
               looser
               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
               pitie
               which
               the
               noble
               feel
            
             
               When
               women
               fail
               ,
               but
               since
               in
               this
               I
               erre
            
             
               To
               all
               my
               Sex
               ,
               I
               would
               to
               women
               kneel
               .
            
          
           
             
               47.
               
            
             
               Yet
               happy
               were
               our
               Sex
               ,
               could
               they
               excuse
            
             
               All
               breach
               of
               Modestie
               ,
               as
               I
               can
               mine
               ,
            
             
               Since
               't
               is
               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
               excell
               .
            
          
           
             
               49.
               
            
             
               All
               was
               he
               which
               the
               Good
               of
               greatness
               see
               ,
            
             
               Or
               Love
               can
               like
               ,
               in
               Judgement
               match'd
               by
               none
               ;
            
             
               Unless
               it
               fail'd
               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.
               
            
             
               Pray'd
               Goltho
               that
               his
               friend
               may
               straight
               forbear
            
             
               Her
               presence
               ,
               whom
               (
               she
               said
               )
               resembled
               so
            
             
               Her
               noble
               Brother's
               cruel
               Murtherer
               ,
            
             
               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
               ev'n
               to
               swear
               her
               brother
               was
               his
               friend
               .
            
          
           
             
               55.
               
            
             
               But
               warie
               Ulfinore
               (
               who
               beauteous
               Truth
            
             
               Did
               never
               but
               in
               plainest
               Dress
               behold
               )
            
             
               Smiles
               ,
               and
               remembers
               Tales
               to
               forward
               Youth
            
             
               In
               winter
               Nights
               by
               Countrey
               Matrons
               told
               :
            
          
           
             
               56.
               
            
             
               Of
               
                 Witches
                 Towns
              
               ,
               where
               ●eeming
               Beauties
               dwell
               ,
            
             
               All
               hair
               ,
               and
               black
               within
               ,
               Maids
               that
               can
               flie
               :
            
             
               Whose
               Palaces
               at
               night
               are
               smoaky
               Hell
               ,
            
             
               And
               in
               their
               beds
               their
               slaughter'd
               Lovers
               lie
               .
            
          
           
             
               57.
               
            
             
               And
               though
               the
               Sun
               now
               setting
               ,
               he
               no
               Lights
            
             
               Saw
               burning
               blue
               ,
               nor
               Steam
               of
               Sulphur
               smelt
               ,
            
             
               Nor
               took
               her
               two
               black
               Mer●on
               Maids
               for
               Sp'rites
               ,
            
             
               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
               Beautie
               seldom
               grows
               ,
            
             
               As
               old
               Physitians
               in
               Anatomie
               .
            
          
           
             
               60.
               
            
             
               Goltho
               (
               said
               he
               )
               't
               is
               easie
               to
               discern
            
             
               That
               you
               are
               grave
               ,
               and
               think
               you
               should
               be
               so
               ;
            
             
               Since
               you
               have
               bus'ness
               here
               of
               great
               concern
               ,
            
             
               And
               think
               that
               you
               this
               House
               and
               Lady
               know
               .
            
          
           
             
               61.
               
            
             
               You
               'l
               stay
               ,
               and
               have
               your
               Sleep
               with
               Musick
               fed
               ,
            
             
               But
               little
               think
               to
               wake
               with
               Mandrakes
               groans
               ,
            
             
               And
               by
               a
               Ghost
               be
               to
               a
               Garden
               led
            
             
               At
               midnight
               ,
               strew'd
               with
               simple
               Lovers
               bones
               .
            
          
           
             
               62.
               
            
             
               This
               Goltho
               is
               enchantment
               ,
               and
               so
               strange
               ,
            
             
               So
               subt'ly
               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
               Oxes
               Eye
               ,
            
             
               Which
               in
               the
               Indian
               Ocean
               Tempests
               brings
               :
            
             
               Let
               's
               go
               before
               our
               Horses
               learn
               to
               ●lie
               ,
            
             
               Ere
               she
               shew
               ●loven
               Feet
               ,
               and
               they
               get
               wings
               .
            
          
           
             
               64.
               
            
             
               But
               high
               rebellious
               Love
               ,
               when
               counsell'd
               ,
               soon
            
             
               As
               sullen
               as
               rebuk'd
               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
               shew
               authority
               and
               haste
               ,
            
             
               Brought
               cares
               to
               Dalga's
               Brow
               ,
               which
               like
               a
               Cloud
               ,
            
             
               Did
               soon
               her
               shining
               Beauty
               over
               cast
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               66.
               
            
             
               Like
               Thieves
               surpriz'd
               whilst
               they
               divide
               their
               prize
               ,
            
             
               Her
               Maids
               run
               and
               return
               through
               ev'ry
               room
               ;
            
             
               Still
               seeming
               doubtfull
               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
               spake
               :
            
             
               My
               Mother
               ,
               Sir
               ,
               Alas
               !
               You
               must
               depart
               .
            
          
           
             
               68.
               
            
             
               She
               is
               severe
               ,
               as
               dying
               Confessours
               ,
            
             
               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
               conceal'd
               ,
            
             
               I
               have
               a
               Closet
               secret
               as
               my
               Brest
               ,
            
             
               Which
               is
               to
               Men
               ,
               nor
               Day
               ,
               no
               more
               reveal'd
               ,
            
             
               Than
               a
               closs
               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
               ev'n
               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
               aw'd
               .
            
          
           
             
               72.
               
            
             
               And
               as
               he
               watch'd
               her
               civil
               Mercurie
               ,
            
             
               The
               hopefull
               Page
               ,
               he
               saw
               him
               entrance
               give
               ,
            
             
               Not
               to
               a
               Matron
               still
               prepar'd
               to
               die
               ,
            
             
               But
               to
               a
               Youth
               wholly
               design'd
               to
               l●ve
               .
            
          
           
             
             
               73.
               
            
             
               He
               seem'd
               the
               heir
               to
               prosp'rous
               Parents
               toyls
               ,
            
             
               Gay
               as
               young
               Kings
               ,
               who
               sue
               in
               forreign
               Courts
               ,
            
             
               Or
               youthfull
               Victors
               in
               their
               Persian
               spoyls
               ,
            
             
               He
               seem'd
               like
               Love
               and
               Musick
               made
               for
               sports
               :
            
          
           
             
               74.
               
            
             
               But
               wore
               his
               clothing
               loose
               ,
               and
               wildly
               cast
               ,
            
             
               As
               Princes
               high
               with
               feasting
               ,
               who
               to
               win
            
             
               Are
               seldom
               us'd
               ,
               shew'd
               warm
               ,
               and
               more
               unbrac'd
            
             
               Than
               Ravishers
               oppos'd
               in
               their
               design
               .
            
          
           
             
               75.
               
            
             
               This
               Ulfinore
               observ'd
               ,
               and
               would
               not
               yet
            
             
               In
               civil
               pitie
               undeceive
               his
               friend
               ;
            
             
               But
               watch
               the
               signs
               of
               his
               departing
               fit
               ,
            
             
               Which
               quickly
               did
               in
               bashfull
               silence
               end
               .
            
          
           
             
               76.
               
            
             
               To
               the
               Duke's
               palace
               they
               enquir'd
               the
               way
               ,
            
             
               And
               as
               they
               slowly
               rode
               ,
               a
               grave
               excuse
            
             
               Griev'd
               Goltho
               frames
               ,
               vowing
               he
               made
               this
               stay
               ,
            
             
               For
               a
               discov'ry
               of
               important
               use
               .
            
          
           
             
               77.
               
            
             
               If
               Sir
               (
               said
               he
               )
               we
               heedlesly
               pass
               by
            
             
               Great
               Towns
               ,
               like
               Birds
               that
               from
               the
               Countrey
               come
            
             
               But
               to
               be
               skar'd
               ,
               and
               on
               to
               Forrests
               flie
               ;
            
             
               Let
               's
               be
               no
               travell'd
               Fools
               ,
               but
               roost
               at
               home
               .
            
          
           
             
               78.
               
            
             
               I
               see
               (
               reply'd
               his
               friend
               )
               you
               nothing
               lack
            
             
               Of
               what
               is
               painfull
               ,
               curious
               ,
               and
               discreet
            
             
               In
               Travellers
               ,
               else
               would
               you
               not
               look
               back
            
             
               So
               often
               to
               observe
               this
               House
               and
               Street
               .
            
          
           
             
               79.
               
            
             
               Drawing
               your
               Citie
               Map
               with
               Coasters
               care
               ,
            
             
               Not
               onely
               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
               ,
               flie
               from
               Lust's
               experiments
               ,
            
             
               Whose
               heat
               we
               quench
               much
               sooner
               than
               asswage
               ,
            
             
               To
               quench
               the
               Fornace-lust
               stop
               all
               the
               vents
               ,
            
             
               For
               give
               it
               any
               Air
               the
               Flames
               will
               rage
               .
            
          
        
         
           FINIS
           .
        
      
    
     
       
         
           POST-SCRIPT
           To
           the
           Reader
           .
        
         
           I
           Am
           here
           arriv'd
           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
           easie
           view
           of
           the
           whole
           Frame
           .
           But
           't
           is
           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
           troublesom
           ;
           and
           even
           in
           the
           Innocent
           may
           beget
           such
           a
           gravitie
           ,
           as
           diverts
           the
           Musick
           of
           Verse
           .
           And
           I
           beseech
           thee
           (
           if
           thou
           art
           so
           civil
           as
           to
           be
           pleas'd
           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
           clothe
           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
           't
           is
           an
           experiment
           to
           the
           most
           experienc'd
           ;
           for
           no
           Man
           (
           though
           his
           Mortifications
           may
           be
           much
           greater
           than
           mine
           )
           can
           say
           ,
           
             He
             has
             alreadie
             Dy'd
          
           .
        
         
           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
           Conquer'd
           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
           Remedie
           :
           and
           Poesie
           was
           that
           Harp
           of
           David
           ,
           which
           remov'd
           from
           Saul
           ,
           the
           Melancholly
           Spirit
           ,
           that
           put
           him
           in
           a
           continual
           remembrance
           of
           the
           revolution
           of
           Empire
           .
        
         
           I
           shall
           not
           think
           I
           instruct
           Militarie
           Men
           ,
           by
           saying
           ,
           That
           with
           Poesie
           in
           
             Heroick
             Songs
          
           ,
           the
           Wiser
           Ancients
           prepar'd
           their
           Battels
           ;
           nor
           would
           I
           offend
           the
           austeritie
           of
           such
           ,
           as
           vex
           themselves
           with
           the
           mannage
           of
           Civil
           Affairs
           ,
           by
           putting
           them
           in
           mind
           ,
           that
           whilst
           the
           Plays
           of
           Children
           are
           punish'd
           ,
           the
           plays
           of
           Men
           are
           but
           excus'd
           under
           the
           title
           of
           Business
           .
        
         
         
           But
           I
           will
           gravely
           tell
           thee
           (
           Reader
           )
           he
           who
           writes
           an
           
             Heroick
             POEM
          
           ,
           leaves
           an
           Estate
           entayl'd
           ;
           and
           he
           gives
           a
           greater
           Gift
           to
           Posteritie
           ,
           than
           to
           the
           present
           Age
           ;
           for
           a
           publick
           benefit
           is
           best
           measured
           in
           the
           number
           of
           Receivers
           ;
           and
           our
           Contemporaries
           are
           but
           few
           ,
           when
           reckon'd
           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
           noveltie
           :
           For
           we
           have
           all
           heard
           ,
           that
           Alexander
           walk'd
           after
           the
           Drum
           from
           Macedon
           into
           India
           ;
           and
           I
           tell
           thee
           (
           Reader
           )
           he
           carry'd
           Homer
           in
           his
           Pocket
           ;
           and
           that
           after
           Augustus
           ,
           by
           many
           Battels
           had
           chang'd
           the
           Government
           of
           the
           world
           ,
           he
           and
           Mecoenas
           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
           Louvre
           
           Gallerie
           ,
           and
           at
           a
           great
           expence
           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
           consider'd
           ,
           that
           Fame
           ,
           like
           Time
           ,
           onely
           gets
           a
           reverence
           by
           long
           running
           ;
           and
           that
           like
           a
           River
           ,
           't
           is
           narrowest
           where
           't
           is
           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
           Posteritie
           .
        
         
           If
           thou
           (
           Reader
           )
           art
           one
           of
           those
           ,
           who
           has
           been
           warm'd
           with
           Poetick
           Fire
           ▪
           I
           reverence
           thee
           as
           my
           Judge
           ,
           and
           whilst
           others
           tax
           me
           with
           vanitie
           ,
           as
           if
           the
           Preface
           argued
           my
           good
           opinion
           of
           the
           Work
           ,
           I
           appeal
           to
           thy
           Conscience
           ,
           whether
           it
           be
           more
           than
           such
           a
           necessarie
           assurance
           ,
           as
           thou
           hast
           made
           to
           thy self
           in
           like
           Undertakings
           ?
           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
           inquiring
           whether
           we
           doubt
           our selves
           .
        
         
           
             Cowes
             .
             Castle
             in
             the
             Isle
             of
             Wight
             ,
             
               October
               22.
               1650.
               
            
          
           
             WILL.
             D'AVENANT
             .
          
        
         
           FINIS
           .
        
         
         
      
       
         Notes, typically marginal, from the original text
         
           Notes for div A37179-e930
           
             Gondibert
             lib.
             2.
             
             Can.
             10
             6.