The Complete Works of Richard Crashaw, Volume I
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Title: The Complete Works of Richard Crashaw, Volume I
Author: Richard Crashaw
Editor: Alexander Balloch Grosart
Release date: January 12, 2012 [eBook #38549]
Language: English
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Transcriber's note:
In two places there is text enclosed by equal signs. That
text is in bold face. Elsewhere equal signs are used as
equal signs.
The Fuller Worthies' Library.
THE COMPLETE WORKS OF RICHARD CRASHAW.
In Two Volumes.
VOL. I.
MEMORIAL-INTRODUCTION.
STEPS TO THE TEMPLE. CARMEN DEO NOSTRO.
THE DELIGHTS OF THE MUSES. AIRELLES.
London:
Robson and Sons, Printers, Pancras Road, N.W.
The Fuller Worthies' Library.
THE COMPLETE WORKS OF RICHARD CRASHAW.
For the First Time Collected
and Collated with the Original and Early Editions,
and Much Enlarged with
I. Hitherto unprinted and inedited Poems from Archbishop Sancroft's
MSS. &c. &c.
II. Translation of the whole of the Poemata et Epigrammata.
III. Memorial-Introduction, Essay on Life and Poetry, and Notes.
IV. In Quarto, reproduction in facsimile of the Author's own
Illustrations of 1652, with others specially prepared.
Edited by the
REV. ALEXANDER B. GROSART,
St. George's, Blackburn, Lancashire.
In Two Volumes.
VOL. I.
Printed for Private Circulation.
1872.
156 copies printed.
TO
THE VERY REVEREND
JOHN HENRY NEWMAN, D.D.
AS AN EXPRESSION OF GRATITUDE FOR
FUNDAMENTAL INTELLECTUAL AND SPIRITUAL
QUICKENING AND NURTURE
FOUND IN AND SUSTAINED BY HIS WRITINGS
EARLIER AND LATEST,
THIS EDITION
OF A POET HE LOVES AS ENGLISHMAN AND CATHOLIC
IS DEDICATED BY
ALEXANDER B. GROSART.
CONTENTS.
Those marked [*] are printed for the first time from MSS.; those marked
[+] have additions for the first time given in their places.
PAGE
Dedication v
Preface xi
Memorial-Introduction xxvii
Note xl
The Preface to the Reader xlv
SACRED POETRY: I. _Steps to the Temple, and Carmen Deo
Nostro_, 1-181.
+Sainte Mary Magdalene, or the Weeper 3
Sancta Maria Dolorvm, or the Mother of Sorrows: a patheticall
Descant upon the deuout Plainsong of Stabat Mater Dolorosa 19
+The Teare 25
+The Office of the Holy Crosse 29
Vexilla Regis: the Hymn of the Holy Crosse 44
The Lord silences His Questioners 47
Our Blessed Lord in His Circumcision to His Father 48
On the Wounds of our crucified Lord 50
Vpon the bleeding Crucifix: a song 51
+To the Name above every name, the Name of Iesvs: a hymn 55
Psalme xxiii 65
Psalme cxxxvii 68
+In the Holy Nativity of ovr Lord God: a hymn svng as by
the Shepheards 70
New Year's Day 76
+In the gloriovs Epiphanie of ovr Lord God: a hymn svng as
by the three Kings 79
To the Qveen's Maiesty 91
Vpon Easter Day 94
Sospetto d'Herode 95
The Hymn of Sainte Thomas, in Adoration of the Blessed Sacrament 121
Lavda Sion Salvatorem: the Hymn for the Bl. Sacrament 124
+Prayer: an Ode which was prefixed to a little Prayer-book
given to a young Gentle-woman 128
To the same Party: Covncel concerning her Choise 134
Description of a Religiovs Hovse and Condition of Life (out
of Barclay) 137
On Mr. George Herbert's Booke intituled the Temple of Sacred
Poems: sent to a Gentle-woman 139
+A Hymn to the Name and Honor of the admirable Sainte
Teresa 141
+An Apologie for the foregoing Hymn, as hauing been writt
when the Author was yet among the Protestants 150
+The Flaming Heart: vpon the Book and Picture of the seraphical
Saint Teresa, as she is vsvally expressed with a
Seraphim biside her 152
A Song of Divine Love 157
+In the gloriovs Assvmption of ovr Blessed Lady 158
+Upon five piovs and learned Discourses by Robert Shelford 162
Dies irae, dies illa: the Hymn of the Chvrch, in meditation
of the Day of Ivdgment 166
Charitas Nimia, or the dear Bargain 170
S. Maria Maior: the Himn, O gloriosa Domina 173
Hope [by Cowley] 175
M. Crashaw's Answer for Hope 178
SACRED POETRY: II. _Airelles_, 183-194.
*Mary seeking Jesus when lost 185
*The Wounds of the Lord Jesus 187
*On ye Gunpowder-Treason 188
*Ditto 190
+Ditto 192
SECULAR POETRY: I. _The Delights of the Muses_, 195-276.
Musick's Duell 197
In the Praise of the Spring (out of Virgil) 207
With a Picture sent to a Friend 208
+In praise of Lessius's Rule of Health 209
The Beginning of Heliodorus 212
Cupid's Cryer (out of the Greeke) 214
Vpon Bishop Andrews' Picture before his Sermons 217
Vpon the Death of a Gentleman 218
Vpon the Death of Mr. Herrys 220
Vpon the Death of the most desired Mr. Herrys 222
Another 225
His Epitaph 228
+An Epitaph vpon a yovng Married Covple, dead and bvryed
together 230
Death's Lectvre and the Fvneral of a yovng Gentleman 232
An Epitaph vpon Doctor Brooke 234
On a foule Morning, being then to take a Journey 235
To the Morning: Satisfaction for Sleepe 237
Love's Horoscope 240
A Song (out of the Italian) 243
Out of the Italian 245
Out of the Italian 246
Vpon the Frontispeece of Mr. Isaackson's Chronologie 246
On the same by Bishop Rainbow 248
An Epitaph vpon Mr. Ashton, a conformable Citizen 250
Out of Catullus 251
Wishes 252
+To the Queen: an Apologie for the length of the following
Panegyrick 259
To the Queen, vpon her numerous Progenie: a Panegyrick 260
Vpon two greene Apricockes sent to Cowley by Sir Crashaw 269
Alexias: The Complaint of the forsaken Wife of Sainte Alexis:
three Elegies 271
SECULAR POETRY: II. _Airelles_, 277-303.
*Upon the King's Coronation 279
*Ditto 280
*Vpon the Birth of the Princesse Elizabeth 282
*Vpon a Gnatt burnt in a Candle 284
*From Petronius 286
*From Horace 287
*Ex Euphormione. 289
*An Elegy vpon the Death of Mr. Stanninow, Fellow of Queen's
Colledge 290
*Upon the Death of a Friend 292
*An Elegie on the Death of Dr. Porter 293
+Verse-Letter to the Countess of Denbigh 295
Ditto from Carmen Deo Nostro 301
ILLUSTRATIONS, _in the illustrated Quarto only_: Vol. I.
1. The Weeper: engraved by W.J. Linton, Esq., after the
Author's own Design 4
2. Sancta Maria Dolorvm; or the Mother of Sorrows 19
3. The Office of the Holy Crosse 29
4. The Recommendation 43
5. To the Name above every name, the Name of Iesus 55
6. The Hymn of Sainte Thomas 55
7. The 'irresolute' Locked Heart 55
8. In the Holy Nativity of ovr Lord God 71
9. In the gloriovs Epiphanie of ovr Lord God. 79
10. Head of Satan: drawn and engraved by W.J. Linton, Esq. 95
11. Sainte Teresa 141
12. Dies irae, dies illa 166
13. Maria Maior, O gloriosa Domina 173
14. A second Illustration from the Bodleian copy 173
15. The Dead Nightingale: drawn by Mrs. Blackburn, engraved
by W.J. Linton, Esq. 197
Nos. 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 11, 12, 13, 14 are reproduced in facsimile
from the author's own designs of 1652, by Pouncey of Dorchester,
expressly for our edition of Crashaw. Besides the above there are a
number of head- and tail-pieces by W.J. Linton, Esq.
PREFACE.
I have at last the pleasure of seeing half-fulfilled a long-cherished
wish and intention, by the issue of the present Volume, being Vol. I. of
the first really worthy edition of the complete Poetry of RICHARD
CRASHAW, while Vol. II. is so well advanced that it may be counted on
for Midsummer (_Deo favente_).
This Volume contains the whole of the previously-published English
Poems, with the exception of the Epigrams scattered among the others,
which more fittingly find their place in Vol. II., along with the Latin
and Greek originals, and our translation of all hitherto untranslated.
Here also will be found important, and peculiarly interesting as
characteristic, additions of unprinted and inedited poems by CRASHAW
from Archbishop SANCROFT'S MSS., among the TANNER MSS. in the Bodleian.
These I have named 'Airelles,' after the little Alpine flowers that are
dug out beneath the mountain masses of snow and ice, with abiding
touches of beauty and perfume, as though they had been sheltered within
walls and glass. The formerly printed Poems have been collated and
recollated anxiously with the original and other early and authoritative
editions, the results of which are shown in Notes and Illustrations at
the close of each poem. Many of the various readings are of rare
interest, and collation has revealed successive additions and revisions
altogether unrecorded by modern editors. In their places I have pointed
out the flagrant carelessness of the last Editor, W.B. TURNBULL, Esq.,
in Smith's 'Library of Old Authors.'
As was meet, I have adhered to the first titles of 'Steps to the Temple'
and 'The Delights of the Muses,' the former embracing the SACRED, and
the latter the SECULAR Poems. The original Editor (whoever he was), not
the Author, gave these titles. In the Preface to 'the learned Reader,'
he says, '_we stile_ his sacred Poems, Steps to the Temple.' At one time
I was disposed to assign the editorship of the volumes of 1646 and 1648
to SANCROFT; but inasmuch as both contained Bp. RAINBOW'S verses
prefixed to ISAACSON'S 'Chronologie,' while the piece is not in the
SANCROFT MS., it seems he could not have been the editor. His pathetic
closing words reveal much love: 'I will conclude all that I have
impartially writ of this learned young Gent. (_now dead to us_) as hee
himselfe doth, with the last line of his poem upon Bishop Andrewes'
picture before his Sermons, _Verte paginas_--Look on his following
leaves, and see him breath.'
I would now give an account of previous editions of our Worthy, and our
use of them. The earliest of his publications--excluding minor pieces in
University Collections as recorded in our Essay--was a volume of Latin
Epigrams published at Cambridge in 1634 in a small 8vo. The name of
CRASHAW nowhere appears, but his initials R.C. are appended to the
Dedication to his friend LANEY. The title-page was as follows:
'Epigrammatum Sacrorum Liber. Cantabrigiae, ex Academiae celeberrimae
typographo, 1634.' Besides the Epigrams, this now rare volume contained
certain of his 'Poemata' before the Epigrams. A second edition was
published in 1670 with a few additional Epigrams, and those in Greek. A
third edition appeared in 1674. Fuller details, with collation of each,
are given in Vol. II. in their places.
Nothing more of any considerableness was published until 1646, two years
after the Poet's ejection. Then appeared a small volume of Poems,
chiefly English, arranged in two distinct classes, Sacred and Secular,
the latter with a separate title-page. In the Note which follows this
Preface, the title-pages of the volume will be found, along with those
of the subsequent editions of 1648 and 1670. With reference to the
volume of 1646, a mistake in the printing was thus pointed out: 'Reader,
there was a sudden mistake ('tis too late to recover it): thou wilt
quickly find it out, and I hope as soone passe it over; some of the
humane Poems are misplaced amongst the Divine.' These 'humane' poems,
that belonged not to the 'Steps' but the 'Delights of the Muses,' were
fifteen in all. They were assigned their own places in the new edition
of 1648. With two exceptions, we have adhered to the classification of
the 1648 edition: the exceptions are, that we have placed 'Vexilla
Regis' immediately after the 'Office of the Holy Crosse,' as belonging
properly to that composition; and the 'Apologie' for the Hymn to TERESA
after the first, not after the second Hymn, seeing the 'Apologie' is
only for the first. The new edition bore on its title-page the
announcement: 'The second Edition, wherein are added divers pieces not
before extant.' Our contents of the present Volume (immediately
following our Dedication) shows these additions, which were important
and precious; viz. twenty-nine new English Poems and eighteen new Latin
Poems.
The next edition was published in PARIS in 1652. In our Note (as
_supra_) the title-page is given. This volume is an elegant one, and is
adorned with twelve dainty engravings after the Author's own designs,
though we possess a copy without the engravings, having blanks left.
This exceedingly rare book contains most of the Sacred Poems and some of
the more serious of the Secular Poems; but as the contents (as _supra_)
show, there were large omissions, notably the Sospetto and Musick's
Duel. It was edited by THOMAS CAR, who prefixes two poems of his own, as
follows:
I. CRASHAWE, THE ANAGRAMME 'HE WAS CAR.'
Was CAR then Crashawe; or was Crashawe Car, 1
Since both within one name combined are?
Yes, Car's Crashawe, he Car; 'tis loue alone
Which melts two harts, of both composing one.
So Crashaw's still the same: so much desired 5
By strongest witts; so honor'd, so admired;
Car was but he that enter'd as a friend
With whom he shar'd his thoughtes, and did commend
(While yet he liu'd) this worke; they lou'd each other:
Sweete Crashawe was his friend; he Crashawe's brother. 10
So Car hath title then; 'twas his intent
That what his riches pen'd, poore Car should print;
Nor feares he checke, praysing that happie one
Who was belou'd by all; disprais'd by none:
To witt, being pleas'd with all things, he pleas'd all, 15
Nor would he giue, nor take offence; befall
What might, he would possesse himselfe, and liue
As deade (deuoyde of interest) t' all might giue
Desease t' his well-composed mynd; fore-stal'd
With heauenly riches; which had wholy call'd 20
His thoughts from earth, to liue aboue in th' aire
A very bird of paradice. No care
Had he of earthly trashe. What might suffice
To fitt his soule to heauenly exercise
Sufficed him: and may we guesse his hart 25
By what his lipps brings forth, his onely part
Is God and godly thoughtes. Leaues doubt to none
But that to whom one God is all; all's one.
What he might eate or weare he tooke no thought;
His needfull foode he rather found then sought. 30
He seekes no downes, no sheetes, his bed's still made;
If he can find a chaire or stoole, he's layd.
When Day peepes in, he quitts his restlesse rest,
And still, poore soule, before he's vp, he's dre'st.
Thus dying did he liue, yet liued to dye 35
In th' Virgin's lappe, to whom he did applye
His virgine thoughtes and words, and thence was styld
By foes, the chaplaine of the virgine myld,
While yet he liued without. His modestie
Imparted this to some, and they to me. 40
Liue happie then, deare soule! inioy the rest
Eternally by paynes thou purchacedst,
While Car must liue in care, who was thy friend,
Nor cares he how he liue, so in the end
He may inioy his dearest Lord and thee; 45
And sitt and singe more skilfull songs eternally.[1]
II. AN EPIGRAMME
Vpon the Pictures in the following Poemes, which the Authour first made
with his owne hand, admirably well, as may be seene in his Manuscript
dedicated to the Right Honourable Lady the L. Denbigh.
'Twixt pen and pensill rose a holy strife 1
Which might draw Vertue better to the life:
Best witts gaue votes to that, but painters swore
They neuer saw peeces so sweete before
As thes fruits of pure Nature; where no Art 5
Did lead the vntaught pensill, nor had part
In th' worke ...
The hand growne bold, with witt will needes contest:
Doth it preuayle? ah no! say each is best.
This to the eare speakes wonders; that will trye 10
To speake the same, yet lowder, to the eye.
Both in their aymes are holy, both conspire
To wound, to burne the hart with heauenly fire.
This then's the doome, to doe both parties right:
This to the eare speakes best; that, to the sight. 15
THOMAS CAR.[2]
It is clear from these lines in the former poem--
'Car was but he that enter'd as a friend
With whom he shar'd his thoughtes, _and did commend_
(_While yet he liu'd_) THIS WORKE___________________
____________________________________________________
So Car hath title then; '_twas his intent
That what his riches pen'd, poore Car should print_'--
that the volume of 1652 carries the authority of CRASHAW with it as his
own Selection from what he had written. So that I have had no hesitation
in accepting its text of the Poems previously published (in 1646 and
1648): understanding that the Selection was regulated by his desire only
to offer the COUNTESS OF DENBIGH those he himself most valued. There are
inevitable misprints and a chaos of punctuation; but the text as a whole
is a great advance on those preceding, as our Notes and Illustrations to
the several poems prove. There are some very valuable additions
throughout, entirely overlooked by modern Editors. Our text of all not
in 1652 volume is based on that of 1648 collated with 1646.
The engravings celebrated in the Epigram of CAR--of whom more, and of
the origin and purpose of the Volume, in our Essay--are as follows:
1. 'To the noblest and best of ladyes:' a heart with an emblematical
lock. Beneath is printed 'Non Vi' ( = not by force), and the following
lines:
'Tis not the work of force but skill
To find the way into man's will.
'Tis loue alone can hearts vnlock:
Who knowes the Word, he needs not knock.
2. 'To the name above every name.' 'Numisma Urbani 6.' A dove under the
tiara, surrounded with a glory. The legend is, 'In unitate Deus est.'
3. 'The Holy Nativity.' The Holy Family at Bethlehem. Beneath are these
lines in French and Latin:
Ton Createur te faict voir sa naissance
Deignant souffrir pour toy des son enfance.
Quem vidistis, Pastores, &c.
Natum vidimus, &c.
4. 'The Glorious Epiphanie.' The adoration of the Magi-kings.
5. 'The Office of the Holy Crosse.' Christ on the Cross. Beneath (from
the Vulgate),
Tradidit semetipsum pro nobis oblationem et hostiam
Deo in odorem suavitatis.--Ad Ephe. 5.
6. 'The Recommendation.' The ascended Saviour looking down toward the
Earth. Above, this line,
Expostulatio Jesu Christi cum mundo ingrato.
Beneath, a Latin poem of thirteen lines, which appears in its place in
our Vol. II.
7. 'Sancta Maria Dolorum.' The Virgin Mary under the Cross with the
instruments of the Passion, holding the dead Saviour in her arms.
8. 'Hymn of St. Thomas.' A Remonstrance. 'Ecce panis Angelorum.'
9. 'Dies Irae.' The Last Judgment. 'Dies Irae, dies illa.'
10. 'O Gloriosa Domina.' The Virgin Mary and Child. Angels hold a crown
over her head, surmounted by the Holy Dove. Beneath:
S. Maria Major.
Dilectus meus mihi, et ego illi,
Qui pascitur inter lilia. Cant.
11. 'The Weeper.' A female head, showing beneath, a bleeding and burning
heart, surrounded by a glory. This couplet is below:
Lo, where a wounded heart, with bleeding eyes conspire:
Is she a flaming fountaine, or a weeping fire?
12. 'Hymn to St. Teresa.' Portrait: scroll above, inscribed 'Misericors
Domini in aeternum cantabo.' Beneath, 'La Vray Portraict de Ste. Terese,
Fondatrice des Religieuses et Religieux reformez de l'ordre de N. Dame
de mont Carmel: Decedee le 4e Octo. 1582. Canonisee le 12e Mars 1622.'
Besides these TWELVE, I discovered another in illustration of 'O
Gloriosa Domina,' substituted for No. 10 in the very fine copy of the
volume in the Douce Collection in the Bodleian. I have the satisfaction
of furnishing admirable reproductions in fac-simile of Nos. 1, 2, 3, 4,
5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, and 12, and by the kindness of the Bodleian Trustees,
the unique illustration for No. 10. No. 11 by my friend W.J. LINTON,
Esq. The whole of these belong exclusively to our illustrated quarto
edition, and the impressions taken have been strictly limited thereto,
and a very few for my own gift-use.
We have now done with genuine editions; but have yet to notice a
wretched medley which bears the name of the '2d edition.' Its title-page
is given in our Note (as before). This volume is fairly printed; but
whatever was meant by '2d edition,' whether it was so styled from
ignorance of the edition of 1648 or copying of its title, or because it
was meant for a 2d edition of 1652, it is a deplorable compilation made
out of 1646 and 1652. It first reprints 1646 and then 1652, omitting in
the second part such poems of 1652 as were in 1646, but without taking
the trouble of correcting any, so as to bring them into agreement with
the better text. Not to mention well-nigh innumerable misprints and
omissions, so blind is it, that it has twice printed two poems which in
1652 had their titles altered, not observing that it had already printed
them under the old titles. These were the poems, _On the Death of a
Young Gentleman_, and in _Praise of Lessius_. It contains only the eight
Latin Poems of 1646, and no others. Of this edition TURNBULL says, 'In
its text [it is] the most inaccurate of all'--and--What then? He
reprints it! and leaves undetected its inaccuracies and omissions, and
superadds as many more of his own--as our Notes and Illustrations
demonstrate, albeit we have left many blunders unrecorded, contenting
ourselves with seeing that our own is correct. And yet this Editor got
in a rage with a correspondent (Professor M'Carthy) of _Notes and
Queries_, who at the time corrected incidentally a misprinted
letter--oblivious of (literally) hundreds infinitely worse.
PEREGRINE PHILLIPS in 1785 published a very well-printed volume of
'Selections' from CRASHAW; but, like TURNBULL, he blundered over the
(so-called) '2d edition' of 1670, and seems never to have seen those of
1648 and 1652. Of other more recent editions I shall speak in our Essay,
and, as already stated in our Memorial-Introduction, notice the
University Collections and others, to which our Poet contributed. In its
place, at close of the present Volume, see account of a hitherto unused
edition of a Verse-Letter to COUNTESS OF DENBIGH.
Of the Poems now for the first time printed, the present Volume contains
no fewer than fifteen or sixteen with important additions: Vol. II. will
contain very many more, as well as our Translation of the hitherto
untranslated Poems and Epigrams. The source of all these erewhile
unprinted Poems is Vol. 465 among the TANNER MSS., which is known to be
in the handwriting (mainly) of Archbishop SANCROFT. The Volume is a
collection of contemporary Poetry, but as it now rests in the Bodleian
is imperfect, as the Index shows. The following details will probably
interest our readers. In the Index is first of all the following, 'Mr.
Crashaw's Epigrams, sacra Latina;' but it is erased. Then underneath is
written 'Mr. Crashaw's poems transcrib'd from his own copie, before they
were printed; amongst wch are some not printed.' 'Latin, On ye Gospels v
p 7. On other Subiects p 39, 95, 229. English Sacred Poems p 111. On
other Subiects--39, 162, 164 v 167 v 196. 202 v 206. 223. v Suspetto di
Herodi, translated from Car. Marino p 287 v.' Guided by this Index--for,
though to some 'R. CR.' is prefixed, others printed in 1646 and 1648 are
left without name or initials--page 7 to 22 contains Latin Poems and
Epigrams still unpublished. On page 22 is a large letter C = Crashaw.
The pagination then leaps to p. 39 and goes on to page 64, and consists
of Latin Poems and one in Greek 'On other Subjects,' also wholly
unpublished. Page 66 is blank, and a blank leaf follows. Then there is a
Latin poem by WALLIS, and pp. 95-6 contain other Latin poems by CRASHAW,
in part published. Pages 97-102 are blank, and the pagination again
leaps to p. 111, where begin the English Sacred Poems, continuing to
page 137, with 'Crashaw' written at end. These pages (111-137) contain
mainly Poems and Epigrams before published. On page 130 is a short poem
'On Good Friday' by T. Randolph. On page 135 are two poems by Dr.
Alabaster: then, on page 136, Crashaw's poem 'On the Assumption,' and on
page 137, a short poem by Wotton. Pages 138-142 are blank, and once more
the pagination passes to p. 159, where there is a poem by GILES FLETCHER
(pp. 159-160)--printed by us in Appendix to Poems of Dr. GILES FLETCHER
in our FULLER WORTHIES' MISCELLANIES. Pages 160-1 have poems by Corbett
(erroneously inserted as HERRICK'S by Hazlitt in his edition of
Herrick), and a Song by WOTTON. On page 162 'The Faire Ethiopian,' by
CRASHAW: p. 163, 'Upon Mr. Cl.' [Cleveland?], who made a Song against
the D.D.s--The complaint of a woman with child [both anonymous]. Then at
page 164 'Upon a gnatt burnt in a candle,' by Crashaw (being entered in
Index as _supra_), and never published. On pages 165-6, Love's Horoscope
(published): p. 166, _Ad Amicam_. T.R. (not by CRASHAW, being entered in
Index under Randolph): pp. 167-71, Fidicinis et Philomela Bellum
Musicum, and Upon Herbert's Temple: pp. 172-3, Upon Isaacson's
Frontispiece (the second piece): pp. 173-4, An invitation to faire
weather (all published before). Then translations from the Latin Poets
with 'R. CR.' above each, pp. 174-178--all unpublished: pp. 178-9, from
Virgil (published). Next on pp. 180-87 are the following: 'On ye
Gunpowder-Treason' (three separate pieces), and 'Upon the King's
Coronation' (two pieces). These have never been printed until now in our
present Vol., and they are unquestionably Crashaw's, inasmuch as (_a_)
All entered thus 164 v. 167 are by him, and so these being entered under
his name in Index as 167 v. 196 must belong to him; (_b_) 'Upon the
King's Coronation' are renderings in part of his own Latin; (_c_) As
shown in our Essay (where also their biographic value is shown) unusual
words used by Crashaw occur in them. Pp. 187-90, 'Panegyrick upon the
birth of the Duke of York' (published): pp. 190-2, 'Upon the birth of
the Princesse Elizabeth' (never before printed). Pages 192-196, poems by
Corbett, Wotton, and others. Pages 196-7, Translation from the Latin _Ex
Euphormione_ (not before published), and on Lessius (published). Then
pp. 197-201, poems by various, in part anonymous: pp. 202-3, An Elegy on
Staninough--not having his name or initials, but entered in Index under
his name--(never before published): pp. 203-5, In obitum desider. Mri
Chambers (published, but the heading new), and Upon the death of a
friend (not before published): p. 205, 'On a cobler' (anonymous): p.
206, In obitum Dr Brooke: Epitaphium Conjug. (published): page 207, poem
by CULVERWELL: p. 208, blank; and then the pagination passes to p. 223.
Pages 223-229, poems on Herrys [or Harris] (all published, but with
variations): pp. 229-30, Elegie on Dr. Porter (never before published,
and entered in Index under Crashaw): from p. 231 to 238, various poems,
but none by Crashaw; then the pagination leaps to p. 238, and goes on to
p. 255, with various pieces, but again none by CRASHAW. On pp. 297-8 are
eight of the published English Epigrams. All the other anonymous and
avowed poems being entered in the Index separately from CRASHAW'S, and
under either their titles or authors, makes us safe to exclude them from
our Volumes. On the other hand, the Index-entries and 'R.C.' together,
assure us that rich and virgin as is the treasure-trove of unprinted and
unpublished Poems--English and Latin, especially the Latin--it is
without a shadow of doubt RICHARD CRASHAW'S, and of supreme worth. I
have also had the good fortune to discover a Harleian MS. from Lord
Somers' Library (6917-18), which furnishes some valuable readings of
some of the Poems, as recorded and used by us.
Throughout we have endeavoured with all fidelity to reproduce our Worthy
in integrity of text and orthography--diminishing only (slightly)
italics and capitals, and as usual giving capitals to all divine Names
(nouns and pronouns) and personifications. In Notes and Illustrations
all various readings are recorded, and such elucidations and filling-in
of names and allusions as are likely to be helpful.
It is now my pleasant duty to return right hearty, because heartfelt,
thanks to many friends and correspondents who have aided me in a
somewhat arduous and difficult work and 'labour of love.' To the
venerable and illustrious man whose name by express permission adorns
my Dedication, I owe a debt of gratitude for a beautiful, a pathetic, a
(to me) sacred Letter, that greatly animated me to go forward. By my
admirable friends Revs. J.H. CLARK, M.A., of West Dereham, Norfolk, and
THOMAS ASHE, M.A., Ipswich, my edition (as Vol. II. will evidence) is
advantaged in various Translations for the first time of the Latin
poems, valuable in themselves, and the more valued for the generous
enthusiasm and modesty with which they were offered, not to say how
considerably they have lightened my own work in the same field. To Dr.
BRINSLEY NICHOLSON, who retains in the Army his fine literary culture
and acumen; to W. ALDIS WRIGHT, Esq., M.A., Trinity College, Cambridge;
the very Reverend Dr. F.C. HUSENBETH, Cossey, Norwich; the Earl and
Countess of DENBIGH; Monsignor STONOR, Rome; to Correspondents at
LORETTO, DOUAI, PARIS, &c.; and to Colonel CHESTER and Mr. W.T. BROOKE,
London,--I wish to tender my warmest thanks for various services most
pleasantly rendered; all to the enrichment of our edition.
The Illustrations (in the 4to) speak for themselves. I cannot
sufficiently express my acknowledgments for the spontaneous and
ever-increasing willinghood of my artist-poet friend W.J. LINTON, Esq.,
who from his temporary Transatlantic home has sent me the exquisite
head- and tail-pieces in both volumes, besides cunningly interpreting
the two original Illustrations drawn for me by Mrs. HUGH BLACKBURN of
Glasgow, and the Poet's 'Weeper.' To Mrs. BLACKBURN her work is its own
abundant reward; but none the less do I appreciate her great kindness to
me.
Anything else needing to be said will be found in the
Memorial-Introduction and Essay on the Life and Poetry, and Notes and
Illustrations. I cannot better close our Preface than with the fine
tribute of R. ARIS WILLMOTT, in his 'Dream of the Poets,' wherein he
catches up the echo of COWLEY across two centuries:
Poet and Saint! thy sky was dark
And sad thy lonely vigil here;
But thy meek spirit, like the lark
Still showered music on the ear,
From its own heaven ever clear:
No pining mourner thou! thy strain
Could breathe a slumber upon Pain,
Singing thy tears asleep: not long
To stray by Siloa's brook was thine:
Yet Time hath never dealt thee wrong,
Nor brush'd the sweet bloom from thy line:
Thou hast a home in every song,
In every Christian heart, a shrine.
ALEXANDER B. GROSART.
15 St. Alban's Place, Blackburn, Lancashire,
4th February 1872.
MEMORIAL-INTRODUCTION.
In a Study of the Life and Poetry of our present Worthy, which will be
found in our Volume II.--thus postponed in order that the completed
Works may be before the student-reader along with it--I venture to hope
new light will be shed on both, and his character as a Man and Poet--one
of the richest of the minor Poets of England--vindicated and interpreted
as never hitherto they have been. Some memories cannot bear the '_cruel
light_' of close scrutiny, some poetries when tested prove
falsetto-noted. RICHARD CRASHAW grows on us the more insight we gain. If
he were as well known as GEORGE HERBERT, he would be equally cherished,
while his Poetry would be recognised as perfumed with all his devoutness
and of a diviner '_stuff_' and woven in a grander loom; in sooth,
infinitely deeper and finer in almost every element of true singing as
differenced from pious and gracious versifying. In this
hurrying-scurrying age, only twos-and-threes take time to hold communion
with these ancient Worthies; and hence my Essay, as with the FLETCHERS
and LORD BROOKE and HENRY VAUGHAN, may win-back that recognition and
love due to CRASHAW.
Then, in a much fuller and more adequate Memoir than hitherto furnished
of WILLIAM CRASHAW, B.D., father of our Poet--also in our Volume
II.--the usually-given ancestral details will appear from new and unused
sources. So that here and now I intend to limit myself to a brief
statement of the few outward Facts, _i.e._ reserving their relation to
the central thing in RICHARD CRASHAW'S life--his passing from
Protestantism to Catholicism, and to contemporaries and inner friends,
and to his Poetry--to our announced Study.
WILLMOTT in his 'Lives of the English Sacred Poets' (vol. first, 1834,
vol. second, 1839), begins his fine-toned little Notice thus: 'After an
anxious search in all the accessible sources of information, I am able
to tell little of one of whom every lover of poetry must desire to know
much. The time of his birth and of his decease is involved in equal
mystery.'[3] Our 'all' is still 'little' as compared with what we yearn
for; but we do not need to begin so dolorously as our predecessor, for
we have discovered both the 'time of his _birth_ and of his _decease_.'
He was born in London in 1612-3; this date being arrived at from the
register-entry of his age on admission to the University, viz. 18 in
1630-1 (as hereafter stated). SHAKESPEARE was then retired to his
beloved Stratford; MILTON was in the sixth year of his cherub-beauty.
His father being 'Preacher at the Temple' at the date would have
determined LONDON to have been his birthplace; but his admission to
Pembroke and his own signature at Peterhouse, 'Richardum Crashaw,
_Londinensem_,' prove it. Who was his mother I have failed to find. The
second Mrs. WILLIAM CRASHAW, celebrated in a remarkable contemporary
poetical tractate printed (if not published) by her bereaved husband (of
which more anon and elsewhere, as _supra_), could not have been the
Poet's mother, as she was not married to CRASHAW (_pater_) until 1619.
We should gladly have exchanged the 'Honour of Vertue or the Monument
erected by the sorrowfull Husband and the Epitaphs annexed by learned
and worthy men, to the immortall memory of that worthy Gentle-woman Mrs.
ELIZABETH CRASHAWE. Who dyed in child-birth, and was buried in
Whit-Chappel: Octob. 8. 1620. In the 24 yeare of her age'--for a page on
the first Mrs. Crashaw. Yet is it pleasant to know the motherless little
lad received such a new mother as this tribute pictures. In 1620 he was
in his ninth year. Thus twice a broad shadow blackened his father's
house and his home. Little more than a year had he his 'second' mother.
Our after-Memoir of the elder CRASHAW shows that he was a man of no
ordinary force of character and influence. The Epistles-dedicatory to
his numerous polemical books are addressed with evident familiarity to
the foremost in Church and State: and it is in agreement with this to
learn (as we do) that MASTER RICHARD gained admission to the great
'Charterhouse' School through SIR HENRY YELVERTON and SIR RANDOLPH
CREW--the former the patron-friend of the saintly DR. SIBBES, the latter
of HERRICK, and both of mark. The Register of Charterhouse as now extant
begins in 1680. So that we know not the date of young Crashaw's entry on
the 'foundation' provided so munificently by SUTTON.[4] As we shall
find, one of the Teachers--Brooke--is gratefully and characteristically
remembered by our Worthy in one of his Latin poems, none the less
gratefully that 'the rod' is recalled. He was 'Schoolmaster' from 1627-8
to 1643. The age of admission was 10 to 14: the latter would bring us to
1627-8, or Brooke's first year of office. Probably, however, he entered
sooner; but neither ROBERT GREY (1624-26) nor WILLIAM MIDDLETON, A.M.
(1626-28), nor others of the Masters or celebrities of the famous School
are celebrated by him, with the exception of (afterwards) BISHOP LANEY.
FRANCIS BEAUMONT was Head-Master in June 18, 1624, and I should have
liked to have been able to associate CRASHAW with the Beaumont family.
Probably DR. JOSEPH BEAUMONT of 'Psyche' was a school-fellow.
How long the Charterhouse was attended is unknown; but renewed
researches at CAMBRIDGE add to as well as correct the usual dates of his
attendance there. WILLMOTT states that 'he was elected a scholar of
Pembroke Hall, March 26, 1632,' and remarks, 'and yet we find him
lamenting the premature death of his friend, William Herrys, a fellow of
the same College, which happened in the October of 1631.'[5] He quotes
from the COLE MSS. The original register in the Admission-book of
Pembroke College removes the difficulty, and is otherwise valuable, as
will be seen. It is as follows:
'Julij 6. 1631. Richardus Crashawe, Gulielmi presbyteri filius,
natus Londini annos habens 18, admissus est ad 2ae mensae ordinem sub
tutela Mri Tourney.'
He was 'matriculated _pensioner_ of Pembroke, March 26, 1632,' but, as
above, his 'admission' preceded. Belonging to Essex, it is not
improbable that CRASHAW and HARRIS were school-fellows at the
Charterhouse. His 'friendships' and associates, so winsomely 'sung' of,
will demand full after-notice. In 1632-3 appeared GEORGE HERBERT'S
'Temple;' an influential event in our Poet's history. He took the degree
of B.A. in 1634. In 1634 he published anonymously his volume of Latin
Epigrams and other Poems; a very noticeable book from a youth of 20,
especially as most must have been composed long previously. He passed
from Pembroke to Peterhouse in 1636; and again I have the satisfaction
to give, for the first time, the entry in the old College Register. It
is as follows:
'Anno Domini millesimo sexcentesimo tricesimo sexto vicesimo die
mensis Novembris Richardus Crashaw admissus fuit a Reverendo in
Christo Patre ac Dno Dno Francisco Episcopo Elaecisi ad locum sive
societatem Magistri Simon Smith legitime vacantem in Collegio sive
Domo Sti Petri, et vicesimo secundo die ejusdem mensis coram
Magistro et Sociis ejusdem Collegii personaliter constitutus,
juramentum praestitit quod singulis Ordinationibus et Statutis
Collegii (quantum in ipso est) reverenter obediret, et specialiter
praeter hoc de non appellando contra amotionem suam secundum modum et
formam statutorum praedictorum et de salvando cistam Magistri Thomae
de Castro Bernardi et Magri Thomae Holbrooke (quantum in ipso est)
indemnum, quo juramento praestito admissus fuit a Magistro Collegii
in perpetuum socium ejusdem Collegii et in locum supradictum. Per me
Richardum Crashaw Londinensem.' (p. 500.)
He was made Fellow in 1637, and M.A. in 1638; looking forward to
becoming a 'Minister' of the Gospel. His Latin Poems in honour of, and
in pathetic appeal regarding PETERHOUSE, are of the rarest interest, and
suggest much elucidatory of his great 'change' in religious matters; a
change that must have been a sad shock to his ultra-Protestant father,
but in which, beyond all gainsaying, conscience ruled, if the heart
quivered. While at the University he was called on to contribute to the
various 'Collections' issued from 1631 onward; and it certainly is once
more noticeable that such a mere youth should have been thus recognised.
His Verses--Latin and English--appeared thus with those of HENRY MORE,
JOSEPH BEAUMONT, EDWARD KING ('Lycidas'), COWLEY, and others; and more
than hold their own. In 1635 SHELFORD, 'priest' of RINGSFIELD, obtained
a laudatory poem from him for his 'Five Pious and Learned Discourses.'
According to ANTHONY A-WOOD, on the authority of one who knew (_not_
from the Registers), he took a degree in 1641 at Oxford.[6]
Of his inner Life and experiences during these years (twelve at least),
and the influences that went to shape his decision and after-course, and
his relation to the COUNTESS OF DENBIGH, I shall speak fully and I trust
helpfully in our Essay. We need to get at the Facts and Circumstances to
pronounce a righteous verdict. For his great-brained, stout-hearted,
iron-willed Father, the stormy period was congenial: but for his son the
atmosphere was mephitic; as the Editor's 'Preface to the Learned
Reader,' in his 'character' of him, suggests. Signatures were being put
unsolemnly to the Solemn League and Covenant,' and as a political not a
religious thing, by too many. RICHARD CRASHAW could not do that, and the
crash of 'Ejection' came. Here is the rescript from the Register of
PETERHOUSE once more unused hitherto:[7]
'Whereas in pursuite of an ordinance of Parliament for regulating
and reforming of the Universitie of Cambridge, I have ejected Mr.
Beaumont, Mr. Penniman, Mr. Crashaw, Mr. Holder, Mr. Tyringham, late
fellowes of Peterhouse, in Cambridge. And whereas Mr. Charles
Hotham, Robert Quarles, Howard Becher, Walter Ellis, Edward Sammes,
have been examined and approved by the Assembly of Divines now
sitting at Westminster, according to the said Ordinance as fitt to
be Fellowes: These are therefore to require you, and every of you,
to receive the said Charles Hotham, Robert Quarles, Howard Becher,
Walter Ellis, Masters of Arts; and Edward Sammes, Bachr, as fellowes
of your Colledge in room of the said Mr. Beaumont, Mr. Penniman, Mr.
Crashaw, Mr. Holder, Mr. Tyringham, formerly ejected, and to give
them place according to their seniority in the Universitie, in
reference to all those that are or shall hereafter bee putt in by
mee accordinge to the Ordinance of Parliament aforesaid. Given
under my hand and seale the eleaventh day of June anno 1644.
'MANCHESTER.
'To the Master, President, and Fellowes of Peterhouse, in Cambridge.'
(p. 518.)
'The ejection' of 1644, like that larger one of 1662, brought much
sorrow and trial to a number of good and true souls. To one so gentle,
shy, self-introspective as CRASHAW, it must have been as the tearing
down of a nest to a poor bird. His fellow-sufferers went hither and
thither. Our first glimpse of our Worthy after his 'ejection' is in
1646, when the 'Steps to the Temple' and 'Delights of the Muses'
appeared, with its Editor's touching saying at the close of his Preface
'now dead to us.' A second edition, with considerable additions, was
published in 1648. Previous to 1646 he had 'gone over' to Catholicism;
for in the 'Steps' of that year is 'An Apologie' for his 'Hymn'--'In
Memory of the Vertuous and Learned Lady Madre de Teresa, that sought an
early Martyrdome.' In 1646 it is headed simply 'An Apologie for the
precedent Hymne:' in the 'Carmen Deo Nostro' of 1652 it is more fully
inscribed 'An Apologie for the foregoing Hymn, as hauing been writt when
the author was yet among the Protestantes.' His two Latin poems, '_Fides
quae sola justificat non est sine spe et dilectione_' and '_Baptismus non
tollit futura peccata_,' were first published in 1648. TURNBULL was
either ignorant of their existence or intentionally suppressed them.
Our Worthy did not long remain in England. He retired to France; and his
little genial poem on sending 'two green apricocks' to COWLEY sheds a
gleam of light on his residence in Paris. COWLEY was in the 'gay city'
in 1646 as Secretary to LORD JERMYN; and inasmuch as the volume of that
year contained his own alternate-poem on 'Hope,' I like to imagine that
he carried over a copy of it to CRASHAW, and renewed their old
friendship. COWLEY, it is told, found our Poet in great poverty: but
CAR'S verses somewhat lighten the gloom. The 'Secretary' of LORD JERMYN
introduced his friend to the Queen of Charles I., who was then a
fugitive in Paris. So it usually runs: but CRASHAW had previously 'sung'
of and to her Majesty. From the Queen the Poet obtained letters of
recommendation to Italy; and from a contemporary notice, hereafter to be
used, we learn he became 'Secretary' at Rome to CARDINAL PALOTTA. He
appears to have remained in Rome until 1649-50, and by very 'plain
speech' on the moralities, that is immoralities, of certain
ecclesiastics, to have drawn down on himself Italian jealousy and
threats. His 'good' Cardinal provided a place of shelter in the
Lady-chapel of LORETTO, of which he was made a Canon. But his abode
there was very brief; for, by a document sent me from Loretto, I
ascertained that he died of fever after a few weeks' residence only, and
was buried within the chapel there, in 1650.[8] COWLEY shed 'melodious
tears' over his dear friend, in which he turns to fine account his
'_fever_' end: and with his priceless tribute, of which DR. JOHNSON
said, 'In these verses there are beauties which common authors may
justly think not only above their attainment, but above their
ambition,'[9]--I close for the present our Memoir:
ON THE DEATH OF MR. CRASHAW.
Poet and Saint! to thee alone are giv'n
The two most sacred names of Earth and Heav'n,
The hardest, rarest union which can be
Next that of godhead with humanity.
Long did the Muses banish'd slaves abide,
And built vain pyramids to mortal pride;
Like Moses thou (tho' spells and charms withstand)
Hast brought them nobly home, back to their Holy Land.
Ah, wretched we, Poets of Earth! but thou
Wert living, the same Poet which thou'rt now;
Whilst angels sing to thee their ayres divine,
And joy in an applause so great as thine.
Equal society with them to hold,
Thou need'st not make new songs, but say the old;
And they (kind spirits!) shall all rejoice to see,
How little less than they, exalted man may be.
Still the old heathen gods in numbers dwell,
The heav'nliest thing on Earth still keeps up Hell:
Nor have we yet quite purg'd the Christian land;
Still idols here, like calves at Bethel stand.
And tho' Pan's death long since all or'cles broke,
Yet still in rhyme the fiend Apollo spoke;
Nay, with the worst of heathen dotage, we
(Vain men!) the monster woman deifie;
Find stars, and tie our fates there in a face,
And Paradise in them, by whom we lost it, place.
What diff'rent faults corrupt our Muses thus?
Wanton as girls, as old wives, fabulous.
Thy spotless Muse, like Mary, did contain
The boundless Godhead; she did well disdain
That her eternal verse employ'd should be
On a less subject than eternity;
And for a sacred mistress scorn'd to take
But her whom God Himself scorn'd not His spouse to make:
It (in a kind) her miracle did do,
A fruitful mother was, and virgin too.
How well (blest Swan) did Fate contrive thy death,
And made thee render up thy tuneful breath
In thy great mistress's arms! Thou most divine,
And richest off'ring of Loretto's shrine!
Where, like some holy sacrifice t' expire,
A fever burns thee, and Love lights the fire.
Angels (they say) brought the fam'd chappel there,
And bore the sacred load in triumph thro' the air:
'Tis surer much they brought thee there; and they,
And thou, their charge, went singing all the way.
Pardon, my Mother-Church, if I consent
That angels led him, when from thee he went;
For ev'n in error, sure no danger is,
When join'd with so much piety as his.
Ah! mighty God, with shame I speak't, and grief;
Ah! that our greatest faults were in belief!
And our weak reason were ev'n weaker yet,
Rather than thus, our wills too strong for it.
His faith, perhaps, in some nice tenets might
Be wrong; his life, I'm sure, was in the right:
And I, myself, a Catholick will be;
So far at least, great Saint! to pray to thee.
Hail, Bard triumphant! and some care bestow
On us, the Poets militant below:
Oppos'd by our old enemy, adverse Chance,
Attack'd by Envy and by Ignorance;
Enchain'd by Beauty, tortur'd by desires,
Expos'd by tyrant-love, to savage beasts and fires.
Thou from low Earth in nobler flames didst rise,
And like Elijah, mount alive the skies.
Elisha-like (but with a wish much less,
More fit thy greatness and my littleness;)
Lo here I beg (I whom thou once didst prove
So humble to esteem, so good to love)
Not that thy sp'rit might on me doubled be,
I ask but half thy mighty sp'rit for me:
And when my Muse soars with so strong a wing,
'Twill learn of things divine, and first of thee to sing.[10]
ALEXANDER B. GROSART.
THE
WORKS OF RICHARD CRASHAW.
VOL. I.
ENGLISH POETRY.
NOTE.
The title-pages, with collation, of the original and early editions of
'Steps to the Temple' and 'The Delights of the Muses' (1646 to 1670) are
here given successively:
_1st edition_, 1646. (1)
STEPS
TO THE
TEMPLE.
Sacred Poems,
With other Delights of the
MUSES.
By RICHARD CRASHAW, _sometimes
of_ PEMBROKE _Hall, and
late Fellow of_ S. Peters _Coll._
in Cambridge.
_Printed and Published according to Order._
LONDON,
Printed by T.W. for _Humphrey Moseley_, and
are to be sold at his shop at the Princes
Armes in St _Pauls_ Church-yard.
1646.
(2)
THE
DELIGHTS
OF THE
MUSES.
OR,
Other Poems written on
severall occasions.
By RICHARD CRASHAW, _sometimes of_ Pembroke
_Hall, and late Fellow of_ St. Peters
_Colledge in_ Cambridge.
Mart. Dic mihi quid melius desidiosus agas.
London,
Printed by T.W. for _H. Moseley_, at
the Princes Armes in S. _Pauls_
Churchyard, 1646. [12o]
Collation: Title-page; the Preface to the Reader, pp. 6; the Author's
Motto and short Note to Reader, pp. 2 [all unpaged]; 'Steps to the
Temple,' pp. 99; title-page of 'Delights,' as _supra_, and pp. 103-138;
the Table, pp. 4.
_2d edition, 1648._
STEPS
TO THE
TEMPLE,
Sacred Poems.
With
The Delights of the Muses.
By RICHARD CRASHAW, _sometimes
of_ Pembroke Hall, _and
late fellow of_ S. Peters _Coll._
in Cambridge.
_The second Edition wherein are added divers
pieces not before extant._
LONDON,
Printed for _Humphrey Moseley_, and are to be
sold at his Shop at the Princes Armes
in St. _Pauls_ Church-yard.
1648. [12o]
The title-page to the 'Delights of the Muses' is exactly the same with
that of 1646, except the date '1648.' Collation: Engraved title-page;
title-page (printed); the Preface to the Reader and the Author's Motto,
pp. 6; 'Steps,' pp. 110; the Table, pp. 4; the 'Delights;' title-page;
the Table, pp. 3; Poems, pp. 71.
_3d edition, 1652._
CARMEN
DEO NOSTRO,
TE DECET HYMNVS
SACRED POEMS,
Collected,
Corrected,
Avgmented,
Most humbly Presented.
To
My Lady
The Covntesse of
DENBIGH
By
Her most deuoted Seruant.
R.C.
In heaty [_sic_] acknowledgment of his immortall
obligation to her Goodnes & Charity.
AT PARIS
By PETER TARGA, Printer to the Archbishope
ef [_sic_] Paris, in S. Victors streete at
the golden sunne.
M.DC.LII. [8vo]
Collation: Title-page; Verses by CAR, pp. 3; Verse-Letter to Countess of
Denbigh, pp. 3 [all unpaged]; the Poems, pp. 131. (See our Preface for
more on this and preceding and succeeding volumes, and for notice of a
separate edition of the Verse-Letter to the Countess of Denbigh.)
_4th edition, erroneously designated 2d edition_, 1670.
STEPS
TO THE
TEMPLE,
THE
DELIGHTS
Of The
Muses,
and
Carmen
Deo Nostro.
By _Ric. Crashaw_, sometimes Fellow of _Pembroke
Hall_, and late Fellow of _St. Peters
Colledge_ in _Cambridge_.
_The 2d. Edition._
In the Savoy,
Printed by T.N. for _Henry Herringham_ at the
_Blew Anchor_ in the _Lower Walk_ of the
_New Exchange_. 1670. [8vo]
Collation: Engraving of a 'Temple;' title-page; the Preface to the
Reader and the Author's Motto, pp. 8; the Table, pp. 6 [all unpaged];
'Steps,' pp. 77; 'Delights,' pp. 81-137; 'Carmen Deo Nostro, Te Decet
Hymnvs,' pp. 141-208. For later editions see our Preface, as before, and
for details on all, early and recent, and Manuscripts; and also our
Memorial-Introduction and Essay. The 'Preface' of 1646 was reprinted in
1648 without change, save a few slight orthographical differences, and
these: p. xlvi. line 3, 'their' for 'its dearest:' p. xlvii. line 1,
'subburd' for 'suburb:' and ibid, line 19, 'then' for 'than:' 1648 our
text. It follows this Note in its own place. G.
STEPS TO THE TEMPLE, &c.
THE PREFACE TO THE READER.
LEARNED READER,
The Author's friend will not usurpe much upon thy eye: This is onely for
those whom the name of our divine Poet hath not yet seized[11] into
admiration. I dare undertake that what JAMBLICUS[12] (_in vita
Pythagorae_) affirmeth of his Master, at his contemplations, these Poems
can, viz. They shall lift thee, Reader, some yards above the ground:
and, as in _Pythagoras_ Schoole, every temper was first tuned into a
height by severall proportions of Musick, and spiritualiz'd for one of
his weighty lectures; so maist thou take a poem hence, and tune thy
soule by it, into a heavenly pitch;[13] and thus refined and borne up
upon the wings of meditation, in these Poems thou maist talke freely of
God, and of that other state.
Here's _Herbert's_[14] second, but equall, who hath retriv'd Poetry of
late, and return'd it up to its primitive use; let it bound back to
heaven gates, whence it came. Thinke yee ST. AUGUSTINE would have
steyned his graver learning with a booke of Poetry, had he fancied its
dearest end to be the vanity of love-sonnets and epithalamiums? No, no,
he thought with this our Poet, that every foot in a high-borne verse,
might helpe to measure the soule into that better world. Divine Poetry,
I dare hold it in position, against SUAREZ on the subject, to be the
language of the angels; it is the quintessence of phantasie and
discourse center'd in Heaven; 'tis the very out-goings of the soule;
'tis what alone our Author is able to tell you, and that in his owne
verse.
It were prophane but to mention here in the Preface those under-headed
Poets, retainers to seven shares and a halfe;[15] madrigall fellowes,
whose onely businesse in verse, is to rime a poore six-penny soule, a
suburb-sinner[16] into Hell:--May such arrogant pretenders to Poetry
vanish, with their prodigious issue of tumorous[17] heats and flashes of
their adulterate braines, and for ever after, may this our Poet fill up
the better roome of man. Oh! when the generall arraignment of Poets
shall be, to give an accompt of their higher soules, with what a
triumphant brow shall our divine Poet sit above, and looke downe upon
poore HOMER, VIRGIL, HORACE, CLAUDIAN, &c.? who had amongst them the ill
lucke to talke out a great part of their gallant genius, upon bees,
dung, froggs, and gnats, &c., and not as himself here, upon Scriptures,
divine graces, martyrs and angels.
Reader, we stile his Sacred Poems, Steps to the Temple, and aptly, for
in the Temple of God, under His wing, he led his life, in St. Marie's
Church neere St. Peter's Colledge: there he lodged under TERTULLIAN'S
roofe of angels; there he made his nest more gladly than David's swallow
neere the house of God, where like a primitive saint, he offered more
prayers in the night than others usually offer in the day; there he
penned these Poems, STEPS for happy soules to climbe heaven by. And
those other of his pieces, intituled The Delights of the Muses, (though
of a more humane mixture) are as sweet as they are innocent.
The praises that follow, are but few of many that might be conferr'd on
him: he was excellent in five languages (besides his mother tongue),
vid. Hebrew, Greek, Latin, Italian, Spanish, the two last whereof he had
little helpe in, they were of his own acquisition.
Amongst his other accomplishments in accademick (as well pious as
harmlesse arts) he made his skill in Poetry, Musick, Drawing, Limming,
Graving (exercises of his curious invention and sudden fancy) to be but
his subservient recreations for vacant houres, not the grand businesse
of his soule.
To the former qualifications I might adde that which would crowne them
all, his rare moderation in diet (almost Lessian temperance[18]); he
never created a Muse out of distempers, nor (with our Canary
scribblers[19]) cast any strange mists of surfets before the
intellectuall beames of his mind or memory, the latter of which he was
so much a master of, that he had there under locke and key in
readinesse, the richest treasures of the best Greek and Latine poets,
some of which Authors hee had more at his command by heart, than others
that onely read their works, to retaine little, and understand lesse.
Enough Reader, I intend not a volume of praises larger than his booke,
nor need I longer transport thee to think over his vast perfections: I
will conclude all that I have impartially writ of this learned young
Gent. (now dead to us) as he himselfe doth, with the last line of his
poem upon Bishop Andrews' picture before his Sermons: _Verte paginas_,
'Look on his following leaves, and see him breath.'[20]
THE AUTHOR'S MOTTO.
Live Iesus, live, and let it bee
My life, to dye for love of Thee.
Sacred Poetry.
I.
STEPS TO THE TEMPLE
(1648),
AND
CARMEN DEO NOSTRO &c.
(1652).
SAINTE MARY MAGDALENE, OR THE WEEPER.[21]
Loe! where a wounded heart with bleeding eyes conspire.
Is she a flaming fountain, or a weeping fire?
* * * * *
THE WEEPER.[22]
I.
Hail, sister springs! 1
Parents of syluer-footed rills!
Euer-bubling things!
Thawing crystall! snowy hills
Still spending, neuer spent! I mean 5
Thy fair eyes, sweet Magdalene!
II.
Heauens thy fair eyes be;
Heauens of euer-falling starres.
'Tis seed-time still with thee;
And starres thou sow'st, whose haruest dares 10
Promise the Earth, to counter-shine
Whateuer makes heaun's forehead fine.
III.
But we' are deceiued all:
Starres indeed they are too true;
For they but seem to fall, 15
As heaun's other spangles doe:
It is not for our Earth and vs
To shine in things so pretious.
IV.
Vpwards thou dost weep:
Heaun's bosome drinks the gentle stream. 20
Where th' milky riuers creep,
Thine floates aboue, and is the cream.
Waters aboue th' heauns, what they be
We' are taught best by thy teares and thee.
V.
Euery morn from hence, 25
A brisk cherub something sippes,
Whose sacred influence
Addes sweetnes to his sweetest lippes;
Then to his musick; and his song
Tasts of this breakfast all day long. 30
VI.
When some new bright guest
Takes vp among the starres a room,
And Heaun will make a feast:
Angels with crystall violls come _phials_
And draw from these full eyes of thine, 35
Their Master's water, their own wine.
VII.
The deaw no more will weep
The primrose's pale cheek to deck:
The deaw no more will sleep
Nuzzel'd in the lilly's neck; 40
Much rather would it be thy tear,
And leaue them both to tremble here.
VIII.
Not the soft gold which
Steales from the amber-weeping tree,
Makes Sorrow halfe so rich 45
As the drops distil'd from thee.
Sorrowe's best iewels lye in these
Caskets, of which Heaven keeps the keyes.
IX.
When Sorrow would be seen
In her brightest majesty: 50
(For she is a Queen):
Then is she drest by none but thee.
Then, and only then, she weares
Her proudest pearles: I mean, thy teares.
X.
Not in the Euening's eyes, 55
When they red with weeping are
For the Sun that dyes;
Sitts Sorrow with a face so fair.
Nowhere but here did ever meet
Sweetnesse so sad, sadnesse so sweet. 60
XI.
Sadnesse all the while
Shee sits in such a throne as this,
Can doe nought but smile,
Nor beleeves she Sadnesse is:
Gladnesse it selfe would be more glad, 65
To bee made soe sweetly sad.
XII.
There's no need at all,
That the balsom-sweating bough
So coyly should let fall
His med'cinable teares; for now 70
Nature hath learnt to' extract a deaw
More soueraign and sweet, from you.
XIII.
Yet let the poore drops weep
(Weeping is the ease of Woe):
Softly let them creep, 75
Sad that they are vanquish't so.
They, though to others no releife,
Balsom may be for their own greife.
XIV.
Golden though he be,
Golden Tagus murmures though. 80
Were his way by thee,
Content and quiet he would goe;
Soe much more rich would he esteem
Thy syluer, then his golden stream.
XV.
Well does the May that lyes 85
Smiling in thy cheeks, confesse
The April in thine eyes;
Mutuall sweetnesse they expresse.
No April ere lent kinder showres,
Nor May return'd more faithfull flowres. 90
XVI.
O cheeks! Bedds of chast loues,
By your own showres seasonably dash't.
Eyes! Nests of milky doues,
In your own wells decently washt.
O wit of Loue! that thus could place 95
Fountain and garden in one face.
XVII.
O sweet contest! of woes
With loues; of teares with smiles disputing!
O fair and freindly foes,
Each other kissing and confuting! 100
While rain and sunshine, cheekes and eyes
Close in kind contrarietyes.
XVIII.
But can these fair flouds be
Freinds with the bosom-fires that fill thee!
Can so great flames agree 105
Aeternal teares should thus distill thee!
O flouds! O fires! O suns! O showres!
Mixt and made freinds by Loue's sweet powres.
XIX.
'Twas his well-pointed dart
That digg'd these wells, and drest this wine; 110
And taught the wounded heart
The way into these weeping eyn.
Vain loues auant! bold hands forbear!
The Lamb hath dipp't His white foot here.
XX.
And now where'ere He strayes, 115
Among the Galilean mountaines,
Or more vnwellcome wayes;
He's follow'd by two faithfull fountaines;
Two walking baths, two weeping motions,
Portable, and compendious oceans. 120
XXI.
O thou, thy Lord's fair store!
In thy so rich and rare expenses,
Euen when He show'd most poor
He might prouoke the wealth of princes.
What prince's wanton'st pride e'er could 125
Wash with syluer, wipe with gold?
XXII.
Who is that King, but He
Who calls 't His crown, to be call'd thine,
That thus can boast to be
Waited on by a wandring mine, 130
A voluntary mint, that strowes
Warm, syluer showres wher're He goes?
XXIII.
O pretious prodigall!
Fair spend-thrift of thy-self! thy measure
(Mercilesse loue!) is all. 135
Euen to the last pearle in thy threasure: _thesaurus_, Latin.
All places, times, and obiects be
Thy teares' sweet opportunity.
XXIV.
Does the day-starre rise?
Still thy teares doe fall and fall. 140
Does Day close his eyes?
Still the fountain weeps for all.
Let Night or Day doe what they will,
Thou hast thy task: thou weepest still.
XXV.
Does thy song lull the air? 145
Thy falling teares keep faithfull time.
Does thy sweet-breath'd praire
Vp in clouds of incense climb?
Still at each sigh, that is, each stop,
A bead, that is, a tear, does drop. 150
XXVI.
At these thy weeping gates
(Watching their watry motion),
Each winged moment waits:
Takes his tear, and gets him gone.
By thine ey's tinct enobled thus, 155
Time layes him vp; he's pretious.
XXVII.
Time, as by thee He passes,
Makes thy ever-watry eyes
His hower-glasses.
By them His steps He rectifies. 160
The sands He us'd, no longer please,
For His owne sands Hee'l use thy seas.
XXVIII.
Not, 'so long she liued,'
Shall thy tomb report of thee;
But, 'so long she grieued:' 165
Thus must we date thy memory.
Others by moments, months, and yeares
Measure their ages; thou, by teares.
XXIX.
So doe perfumes expire,
So sigh tormented sweets, opprest 170
With proud vnpittying fire.
Such teares the suffring rose, that's vext
With vngentle flames, does shed,
Sweating in a too warm bed.
XXX.
Say, ye bright brothers, 175
The fugitiue sons of those fair eyes,
Your fruitfull mothers!
What make you here? what hopes can 'tice
You to be born? what cause can borrow
You from those nests of noble sorrow? 180
XXXI.
Whither away so fast?
For sure the sluttish earth
Your sweetnes cannot tast,
Nor does the dust deserve your birth.
Sweet, whither hast you then? O say 185
Why you trip so fast away?
XXXII.
We goe not to seek
The darlings of Aurora's bed,
The rose's modest cheek,
Nor the violet's humble head. 190
Though the feild's eyes too Weepers be,
Because they want such teares as we.
XXXIII.
Much lesse mean we to trace
The fortune of inferior gemmes,
Preferr'd to some proud face, 195
Or pertch't vpon fear'd diadems:
Crown'd heads are toyes. We goe to meet
A worthy object, our Lord's feet.
NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS.
With some shortcomings--superficial rather than substantive--'The
Weeper' is a lovely poem, and well deserves its place of honour at the
commencement of the 'Steps to the Temple,' as in editions of 1646, 1648,
and 1670. Accordingly we have spent the utmost pains on our text of it,
taking for basis that of 1652. The various readings of the different
editions and of the SANCROFT MS. are given below for the capable student
of the ultimate perfected form. I have not hesitated to correct several
misprints of the text of 1652 from the earlier editions.
The present poem appears very imperfectly in the first edition (1646),
consisting there of only twenty-three stanzas instead of thirty-three
(and so too in 1670 edition). The stanzas that are not given therein are
xvi. to xxix. (on the last see onward). But on the other hand, exclusive
of interesting variations, the text of 1646 supplies two entire stanzas
(xi. and xxvii.) dropped out in the editions of 1648 and 1652, though
both are in 1670 edition and in the SANCROFT MS. Moreover I accept the
succession of the stanzas in 1646, so far as it goes, confirmed as it is
by the SANCROFT MS. A third stanza in 1652 edition (st. xi. there) as
also in 1648 edition, I omit, as it belongs self-revealingly to 'The
Teare,' and interrupts the metaphor in 'The Weeper.' Another stanza
(xxix.) might seem to demand excision also, as it is in part repeated in
'The Teare;' but the new lines are dainty and would be a loss to 'The
Weeper.' Our text therefore is that of 1652, as before, with
restorations from 1646.
The form of the stanza in the editions of 1646, 1648 and 1670 is thus:
_______________________________
_______________________________
__________________________
_______________________________
____________________________________
____________________________________
In 1652 from stanza xv. (there) to end,
_______________________________
_______________________________
_______________________________
_______________________________
____________________________________
____________________________________
but I have made all uniform, and agreeably to above of 1652.
I would now submit variations, illustrations and corrections, under the
successive stanzas and lines.
Couplet on the engraving of 'The Weeper.' In 1652 'Sainte' is misprinted
'Sanite,' one of a number that remind us that the volume was printed in
Paris, not London. In all the other editions the heading 'Sainte Mary
Magdalene' is omitted.
St. i. line 2. 1646, 1648 and 1670 editions read 'silver-forded.' Were
it only for the reading of the text of 1652 'silver-footed,' I should
have been thankful for it; and I accept it the more readily in that the
SANCROFT MS. from Crashaw's own copy, also reads 'silver-footed.' The
Homeric compound epithet occurs in HERRICK contemporarily in his
_Hesperides_,
'I send, I send here my supremest kiss
To thee, my _silver-footed_ Thamasis'
[that is, the river Thames]. WILLIAM BROWNE earlier, has 'faire
_silver-footed_ Thetis' (Works by Hazlitt, i. p. 188). Cf. also the
first line of the Elegy on Dr. Porter in our 'Airelles'--printed for the
first time by us: 'Stay silver-footed Came.'
With reference to the long-accepted reading 'silver-_forded_,' the
epithet is loosely used not for in the state of being forded, but for in
a state to be forded, or fordable, and hence shallow. The thought is not
quite the same as that intended to be conveyed by such a phrase as
'silver stream of Thames,' but pictures the bright, pellucid, silvery
whiteness of a clear mountain rill. As silver-shallow--a meaning which,
as has been said, cannot be fairly obtained from it--can it alone be
taken as a double epithet. In any other sense the hyphen is only an
attempt to connect two qualities which refuse to be connected. All
difficulty and obscurity are removed by 'silver-footed.'
St. iii. line 1. The. 'we'' may be = wee, as printed in 1646, but in
1648 it is 'we are,' and in 1670 'we're,' and in the last, line 2,
'they're.' The SANCROFT MS. in line 2, reads 'they are indeed' for
'indeed they are.'
St. iv. line 4, 1646 and 1670 have 'crawles' and 'crawls' respectively,
for 'floates,' as in 1648 and our text. The SANCROFT MS. also reads
'crawles.' In line 3, 1646 and 1670 'meet' is inadvertently substituted
for 'creep.'
Lines 5 and 6, 1646 and 1670 read
'Heaven, of such faire floods as this,
Heaven the christall ocean is.'
So too the SANCROFT MS., save that for 'this' it has 'these.'
St. v. line 2. 'Brisk' is = active, nimble. So--and something
more--SHAKESPEARE: 'he made me mad, to see him shine so _brisk_' (1
Henry IV. 3).
Line 3. 1646, 1670 and SANCROFT MS. read 'soft' for 'sacred' of 1652 and
1648.
Line 6, 'Breakfast.' See our Essay on this and similar homely words,
with parallels. 1648 reads 'his' for '_this_ breakfast.'
St. vi. line 4, 'violls' = 'phials' or small bottles. The reading in
1646 and 1670 is 'Angels with their _bottles_ come.' So also in the
SANCROFT MS.
St. vii. line 4. 'Nuzzeld' = nestled or nourished. In quaint old DR.
WORSHIP'S Sermons, we have 'dew _cruzzle_ on his cheek' (p. 91).
Lines 1 and 3, 'deaw' = 'dew.' This was the contemporary spelling, as it
was long before in SIR JOHN DAVIES, the FLETCHERS and others in our
Fuller Worthies' Library, _s.v._
Lines 5 and 6. 1646, 1670 and SANCROFT MS. read
'Much rather would it tremble heere
And leave them both to bee thy teare.'
1648 is as our text (1652).
St. ix. A hasty reader may judge this stanza to have been displaced by
the xith, but a closer examination reveals a new vein (so-to-say) of the
thought. It is characteristic of Crashaw to give a first-sketch, and
afterwards fill in other details to complete the scene or portraiture.
St. xi. Restored from 1646.
St. xii. line 1. 1646, 1648 and 1670 read 'There is.'
Line 4, '_med'cinable_ teares.' So SHAKESPEARE (nearly): 'their
_medicinal_ gum' (Othello, v. 2).
St. xiii. line 2. 1646 and 1670 unhappily misprint 'case;' and TURNBULL
passed the deplorable blunder and perpetuated it.
Line 5. Our text (1652) misprints 'draw' for 'deaw' = dew, as before.
Line 6. 1646 and 1670 read 'May balsame.'
St. xiv. line 3. 1646 and 1670 read
'Might he flow from thee.'
TURNBULL misses the rhythmical play in the first and second 'though,'
and punctuates the second so as to read with next line. I make a
full-stop as in the SANCROFT MS.
Line 4, ib. read
'Content and quiet would he goe.'
So the SANCROFT MS.
Line 5, ib. read
'Richer far does he esteeme.'
So the SANCROFT MS.
St. xv. lines 5 and 6, ib. read
'No April e're lent softer showres,
Nor May returned fairer flowers.'
'Faithful' looks deeper: but the SANCROFT MS. agrees with '46 and '70.
St. xvii. line 2, in 1648 misreads
'With loves and tears, and smils disputing.'
TURNBULL, without the slightest authority, seeing not even in 1670 are
the readings found, has thus printed lines 2 and 4, 'With loves, of
tears _with smiles disporting_' ... 'Each other kissing and
_comforting_'!!
St. xviii. line 2 in 1648 misreads
'Friends with the balsome fires that fill thee.'
The 'balsome' is an evident misprint, but 'thee' is preferable to 'fill
you' of our text (1652), and hence I have adopted it.
Line 3 in 1648 reads
'Cause great flames agree.'
St. xix. line 3, 1648, reads 'that' for 'the.'
Line 4, ib. 'those' for 'these.'
Line 6. cf. Revelations xiv. 5, 'These are they which follow the Lamb
whithersoever He goeth.'
St. xxi. line 6. 'wipe with gold,' refers to Mary Magdalene's golden
tresses, as also in st. xxii. 'a voluntary mint.'
Line 4. 'prouoke' = challenge.
St. xxii. line 2. Curiously enough, 1648 edition leaves a blank where we
read 'calls 't' as in our text (1652). TURNBULL prints 'call'st,' but
that makes nonsense. It is calls't as = calls it. So too the SANCROFT
MS. Probably the copy for 1648 was illegible.
St. xxiv. line 1. 1646 and 1670 read
'Does the Night arise?'
Line 2. Our text (1652) misprints 'starres' for 'teares' of 1646, 1648
and 1670.
Line 3. 1646 and 1670 read
'Does Night loose her eyes?'
The SANCROFT MS. reads line 139 'Does the Night arise?' and line 141,
'Does Niget loose her eyes?'
St. xxv. line 2. 1646 and 1670 read
'Thy teares' just cadence still keeps time.'
So the SANCROFT MS.
Line 3. Our text (1652) misprints 'paire' for 'praire.' 'Sweet-breath'd'
should probably be pronounced as the adjectival of the substantive, not
as the participle of the verb.
Line 6. 1646, 1648 and 1670 read 'doth' for 'does.'
St. xxvi. lines 1 and 2. 1646 and 1670 read
'Thus dost thou melt the yeare
Into a weeping motion.
Each minute waiteth heere.'
So the SANCROFT MS.
St. xxvii. Restored from 1646 edition. The SANCROFT MS. in line 168
miswrites 'teares.'
St. xxviii. line 5. reads in 1646 and 1670
'Others by dayes, by monthes, by yeares.'
So also the SANCROFT MS., wherein this st. follows our st. xv.
St. xxix. line 3. Our text (1652) misprints 'fires' for 'fire' of 1648.
St. xxx. line 1. Our text (1652) misprints 'Say the bright brothers.'
1646 and 1670 read 'Say watry Brothers.' So SANCROFT MS. 1648 gives
'ye,' which I have adopted. The misprint of 'the' in 1652 originated
doubtless in the printer's reading 'ye,' the usual mode of writing
'the.'
Line 2. 1646 and 1670 read
'Yee simpering ...'
So the SANCROFT MS.
Line 3, ib. 'fertile' for 'fruitfull.'
Line 4, ib. 'What hath our world that can entice.' So the SANCROFT MS.
Lines 5 and 6, ib.
'what is't can borrow
You from her eyes, swolne wombes of sorrow.'
So the SANCROFT MS.
St. xxxi. line 2. 1646 and 1670 read
'O whither? for the _sluttish_ Earth:'
and I accept 'sluttish' for 'sordid,' which is also confirmed by
SANCROFT MS.
Line 4, ib. 'your' for 'their;' and as this is also the reading of 1648
and SANCROFT MS., I have accepted it.
Line 5. 1646 and 1670 omit 'Sweet.'
Line 6, ib. read 'yee' for 'you.'
St. xxxii. and xxxiii. In 1646 and 1670 these two stanzas are thrown
into one, viz. 23 (there), which consists of the first four lines of
xxxii. and the two closing lines of xxxiii. as follows,
'No such thing; we goe to meet
A worthier object, our Lords feet.'
In the SANCROFT MS. also, and reads as last line 'A worthy object, our
Lord Jesus feet.' On the closing lines of st. xxxii. cf. Sospetto
d'Herode, st. xlviii.
I have not thought it needful, either in these Notes or hereafter, to
record the somewhat arbitrary variations of mere orthography in the
different editions, as 'haile' for 'hail,' 'syluer' for 'silver,' 'hee'
for 'he,' and the like. But I trust it will be found that no different
wording has escaped record. G.
SANCTA MARIA DOLORVM, OR THE MOTHER OF SORROWS
_A patheticall Descant vpon the deuout Plainsong of Stabat Mater
Dolorosa._[23]
I.
In shade of Death's sad tree
Stood dolefull shee.
Ah she! now by none other
Name to be known, alas, but Sorrow's Mother.
Before her eyes, 5
Her's, and the whole World's ioyes,
Hanging all torn she sees; and in His woes
And paines, her pangs and throes:
Each wound of His, from euery part,
All, more at home in her one heart. 10
II.
What kind of marble, than,
Is that cold man
Who can look on and see,
Nor keep such noble sorrowes company?
Sure eu'en from you 15
(My flints) some drops are due,
To see so many unkind swords contest
So fast for one soft brest:
While with a faithfull, mutuall floud,
Her eyes bleed teares, His wounds weep blood. 20
III.
O costly intercourse
Of deaths, and worse--
Diuided loues. While Son and mother
Discourse alternate wounds to one another,
Quick deaths that grow 25
And gather, as they come and goe:
His nailes write swords in her, which soon her heart
Payes back, with more then their own smart.
Her swords, still growing with His pain,
Turn speares, and straight come home again. 30
IV.
She sees her Son, her God,
Bow with a load
Of borrow'd sins; and swimme
In woes that were not made for Him.
Ah! hard command 35
Of loue! Here must she stand,
Charg'd to look on, and with a stedfast ey
See her life dy:
Leauing her only so much breath
As serues to keep aliue her death. 40
V.
O mother turtle-doue!
Soft sourse of loue!
That these dry lidds might borrow
Somthing from thy full seas of sorrow!
O in that brest 45
Of thine (the noblest nest
Both of Loue's fires and flouds) might I recline
This hard, cold heart of mine!
The chill lump would relent, and proue
Soft subject for the seige of Loue. 50
VI.
O teach those wounds to bleed
In me; me, so to read
This book of loues, thus writ
In lines of death, my life may coppy it
With loyall cares. 55
O let me, here, claim shares!
Yeild somthing in thy sad praerogatiue
(Great queen of greifes), and giue
Me, too, my teares; who, though all stone,
Think much that thou shouldst mourn alone. 60
VII.
Yea, let my life and me
Fix here with thee,
And at the humble foot
Of this fair tree, take our eternall root.
That so we may 65
At least be in Loue's way;
And in these chast warres, while the wing'd wounds flee
So fast 'twixt Him and thee,
My brest may catch the kisse of some kind dart,
Though as at second hand, from either heart. 70
VIII.
O you, your own best darts,
Dear, dolefull hearts!
Hail! and strike home, and make me see
That wounded bosomes their own weapons be.
Come wounds! come darts! 75
Nail'd hands! and peirced hearts!
Come your whole selues, Sorrow's great Son and mother!
Nor grudge a yonger brother
Of greifes his portion, who (had all their due)
One single wound should not haue left for you. 80
IX.
Shall I, sett there
So deep a share
(Dear wounds), and onely now
In sorrows draw no diuidend with you?
O be more wise, 85
If not more soft, mine eyes!
Flow, tardy founts! and into decent showres
Dissolue my dayes and howres.
And if thou yet (faint soul!) desert
To bleed with Him, fail not to weep with her. 90
X.
Rich queen, lend some releife;
At least an almes of greif
To' a heart who by sad right of sin
Could proue the whole summe (too sure) due to him.
By all those stings 95
Of Loue, sweet-bitter things,
Which these torn hands transcrib'd on thy true heart;
O teach mine too the art
To study Him so, till we mix
Wounds, and become one crucifix. 100
XI.
O let me suck the wine
So long of this chast Vine,
Till drunk of the dear wounds, I be
A lost thing to the world, as it to me.
O faithfull friend 105
Of me and of my end!
Fold vp my life in loue; and lay't beneath
My dear Lord's vitall death.
Lo, heart, thy hope's whole plea! her pretious breath
Pour'd out in prayrs for thee; thy Lord's in death. 110
NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS.
St. i. line 10. In 1648 the reading is
'Are more at home in her Owne heart.'
In 1670. 'All, more at home in her own heart.' I think 'all' and 'one'
of our text (1652) preferable. There is a world of pathos in the latter.
Cf. st. ii. line 8.
St. ii. line 1. On the change of orthography for rhyme, see our PHINEAS
FLETCHER, vol. ii. 206; and our LORD BROOKE, VAUGHAN, &c. &c., show
'then' and 'than' used as in Crashaw.
St. vi. line 3. In 1648 the reading is 'love;' 1670 as our text (1652).
The plural includes the twofold love of Son and mother.
Line 7, ib. 'to' for 'in.'
Line 9, ib. 'Oh give' at commencement. 1670, 'to' for 'too.'
St. vii. and viii. These two stanzas do not appear in 1648 edition, but
appear in 1670.
St. vii. line 4. By 'tree' the Cross is meant. Cf. st. i. line 1.
St. ix. line 1. 1648 edition supplies the two words required by the
measure of the other stanzas, 'in sins.' They are dropped inadvertently
in 1652 and 1670. Turnbull failed as usual to detect the omission.
Line 4. 1648 spells 'Divident.'
Lines 5 and 6. I have accepted correction of our text (1652) from 1648
edition, in line 6, of 'If' for 'Is,' which is also the reading of 1670.
1648 substitutes 'just' for 'soft;' but 1670 does not adopt it, nor can
I.
St. x. line 1. 1648 reads 'Lend, O lend some reliefe.'
Line 9 reads 'To studie thee so.'
St. xi. line 3, ib. reads 'thy' for 'the.'
Line 8, ib. reads 'Thy deare lost vitall death.'
Line 10. I have adopted from 1648 'in thy Lord's death' for 'thy lord's
in death' of our text (1652).
Turnbull has some sad misprints in this poem: _e.g._ st. ii. line 4,
'sorrow's' for 'sorrows;' st. iii. line 2, 'death's' for 'deaths;' st.
vi. line 9, 'Me to' for 'Me, too;' st. x. line 2, 'in' for 'an,' and
line 3, 'a' mis-inserted before 'sad.' Except in the 'Me to' of st. vi.,
he had not even the poor excuse of following the text of 1670. G.
THE TEARE.[24]
I.
What bright-soft thing is this,
Sweet Mary, thy faire eyes' expence?
A moist sparke it is,
A watry diamond; from whence
The very tearme, I think, was found, 5
The water of a diamond.
II.
O, 'tis not a teare:
'Tis a star about to dropp
From thine eye, its spheare;
The sun will stoope and take it up: 10
Proud will his sister be, to weare
This thine eyes' iewell in her eare.
III.
O, 'tis a teare,
Too true a teare; for no sad eyne,
How sad so 'ere, 15
Raine so true a teare, as thine;
Each drop leaving a place so deare,
Weeps for it self; is its owne teare.
IV.
Such a pearle as this is,
Slipt from Aurora's dewy brest-- 20
The rose-bud's sweet lipp kisses;
And such the rose it self that's vext
With ungentle flames, does shed,
Sweating in a too warm bed.
V.
Such the maiden gem, 25
By the purpling vine put on,
Peeps from her parent stem,
And blushes on the bridegroom sun;
The watry blossome of thy eyne
Ripe, will make the richer wine. 30
VI.
Faire drop, why quak'st thou so?
'Cause thou streight must lay thy head
In the dust? O, no!
The dust shall never be thy bed:
A pillow for thee will I bring, 35
Stuft with downe of angel's wing.
VII.
Thus carried up on high
(For to Heaven thou must goe),
Sweetly shalt thou lye,
And in soft slumbers bath thy woe, 40
Till the singing orbes awake thee,
And one of their bright chorus make thee.
VIII.
There thy selfe shalt bee
An eye, but not a weeping one;
Yet I doubt of thee, 45
Whether th' had'st rather there have shone
An eye of heaven; or still shine here,
In the heaven of Marie's eye, a TEARE.
NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS.
It is to be re-noted that st. v. is identical in all save 'watry' for
'bridegroom' with st. xi. of 'The Weeper' as given in text of 1652, and
that st. iv. has two lines from st. xxix. of the same poem. Neither of
these stanzas appear in 'The Weeper' of 1646. As stated in relative
foot-note, I have withdrawn the former from 'The Weeper.' We may be sure
it was inadvertently inserted in 1652, seeing that the very next stanza
closes with the same word 'wine' as in it: a fault which our Poet never
could have passed. It is to be noticed too that 'The Teare' did not
appear in the edition of 1652. By transferring the stanza to 'The Teare'
as in 1646, 1648 and 1670 editions, a blemish is removed from 'The
Weeper,' while in 'The Teare' it is a vivid addition. The 'such' of line
1 links it naturally on to st. iv. with its 'such.'
Our text follows that of 1648 except in st. v. line 4, where I adopt the
reading of 1652 in 'The Weeper' (there st. xi.) of 'bridegroom'
(misprinted 'bridegrooms') for 'watry,' and that I correct in st. vii.
line 6, the misprint 'the' for 'thee,'--the latter being found in 1646
and 1670. With reference to st. v. again, in line 5 in 'The Weeper' of
1648 the reading is 'balsome' for 'blossom.' The 'ripe' of line 6
settles (I think) that 'blossom' is the right word, as the ripe blossom
is = the grape, to the rich lucent-white drops of which the Weeper's
tears are likened. 'Balsome' doesn't make wine. I have adopted from st.
xi. of 'The Weeper' of 1652 the reading 'the purpling vine' for 'the
wanton Spring' of 1646, 1648 and 1670. The SANCROFT MS. in st. i. line
2, reads 'expends' for 'expence;' st. iv. line 4, 'that's' for 'when;'
st. v. line 4, 'manly sunne' for 'bridegroome,' and line 5, 'thine' for
'thy;' st. viii. line 6, 'I' th'' for 'In th'.' G.
THE OFFICE OF THE HOLY CROSSE.[25]
Tradidit semetipsum pro nobis oblationem et hostiam Deo in odorem
suauitatis. _Ad Ephe._ v. 2.
THE HOWRES.
FOR THE HOVR OF MATINES.
_The Versicle._
Lord, by Thy sweet and sailing sign!
_The Responsory._
Defend us from our foes and Thine.
_V._ Thou shalt open my lippes, O Lord.
_R._ And my mouth shall shew forth Thy prayse.
_V._ O God, make speed to saue me. 5
_R._ O Lord, make hast to help me.
Glory be to the FATHER,
and to the SON,
and to the H[oly] GHOST.
As it was in the beginning, is now, and euer 10
shall be, world without end. Amen.
THE HYMN.
The wakefull Matines hast to sing
The unknown sorrows of our King:
The Father's Word and Wisdom, made
Man for man, by man's betraid; 15
The World's price sett to sale, and by the bold
Merchants of Death and Sin, is bought and sold:
Of His best freinds (yea of Himself) forsaken;
By His worst foes (because He would) beseig'd and taken.
_The Antiphona._
All hail, fair tree, 20
Whose fruit we be!
What song shall raise
Thy seemly praise,
Who broughtst to light
Life out of death, Day out of Night! 25
_The Versicle._
Lo, we adore Thee,
Dread LAMB! and bow thus low before Thee:
_The Responsor._
'Cause, by the couenant of Thy crosse,
Thou hast sau'd at once the whole World's losse.
_The Prayer._
O Lord IESV-CHRIST, Son of the liuing God! 30
interpose, I pray Thee, Thine Own pretious death,
Thy crosse and passion, betwixt my soul and Thy
iudgment, now and in the hour of my death. And
vouchsafe to graunt vnto me Thy grace and mercy;
vnto all quick and dead, remission and rest; to Thy 35
Church, peace and concord; to vs sinners, life and
glory euerlasting. Who liuest and reignest with
the Father, in the vnity of the Holy Ghost, one
God, world without end. Amen.
FOR THE HOUR OF PRIME.
_The Versicle._
Lord, by Thy sweet and sailing sign! 40
_The Responsor._
Defend vs from our foes and Thine.
_V._ Thou shalt open my lips, O Lord.
_R._ And my mouth shall shew forth Thy praise.
_V._ O God, make speed to save me.
_R._ O Lord, make hast to help me. 45
_V._ Glory be to, &c.
_R._ As it was in the, &c.
THE HYMN.
The early Prime blushes to say
She could not rise so soon, as they
Call'd Pilat vp; to try if he 50
Could lend them any cruelty.
Their hands with lashes arm'd, their toungs with lyes
And loathsom spittle, blott those beauteous eyes,
The blissfull springs of ioy; from whose all-chearing ray
The fair starrs fill their wakefull fires, the sun him-
self drinks day. 55
_The Antiphona._
Victorious sign
That now dost shine,
Transcrib'd aboue
Into the land of light and loue;
O let vs twine 60
Our rootes with thine,
That we may rise
Vpon thy wings, and reach the skyes.
_The Versicle._
Lo, we adore Thee,
Dread Lamb! and fall 65
Thus low before Thee.
_The Responsor._
'Cause by the couenant of Thy crosse
Thou hast sau'd at once the whole World's losse.
_The Prayer._
O LORD IESV-CHRIST, Son of the liuing God!
interpose, I pray Thee, Thine Own pretious death, 70
Thy crosse and passion, betwixt my soul and Thy
iudgment, now and in the hour of my death. And
vouchsafe to graunt vnto me Thy grace and mercy;
vnto all quick and dead, remission and rest; to
Thy Church, peace and concord; to vs sinners, 75
life and glory euerlasting. Who liuest and reignest
with the Father, in the vnity of the Holy Ghost,
one God, world without end. Amen.
THE THIRD.
_The Versicle._
Lord, by Thy sweet and sauing sign,
_The Responsor._
Defend vs from our foes and Thine. 80
_V._ Thou shalt open my lips, O Lord.
_R._ And my mouth shall shew forth Thy praise.
_V._ O God, make speed to save me.
_R._ O Lord, make hast to help me.
_V._ Glory be to, &c. 85
_R._ As it was in the, &c.
THE HYMN.
The third hour's deafen'd with the cry
Of crucify Him, crucify.
So goes the vote (nor ask them, why?),
Liue Barabbas! and let God dy. 90
But there is witt in wrath, and they will try
A hail more cruell then their crucify.
For while in sport He weares a spitefull crown
The serious showres along His decent Face run sadly down.
_The Antiphona._
Christ when He dy'd 95
Deceiu'd the Crosse;
And on Death's side
Threw all the losse.
The captiue World awak't and found
The prisoners loose, the iaylor bound. 100
_The Versicle._
Lo, we adore Thee,
Dread LAMB, and fall
Thus low before Thee.
_The Responsor._
'Cause by the couenant of Thy crosse
Thou hast sau'd at once the whole World's losse. 105
_The Prayer._
O Lord IESV-CHRIST, Son of the liuing God!
interpose, I pray Thee, Thine Own pretious death,
Thy crosse and passion, betwixt my soul and Thy
iudgment, now and in the hour of my death. And
vouchsafe to graunt vnto me Thy grace and mercy; 110
vnto all quick and dead, remission and rest; to
Thy Church, peace and concord; to vs sinners,
life and glory everlasting. Who liuest and reignest
with the Father, in the vnity of the Holy Ghost,
one God, world without end. Amen. 115
THE SIXT.
_The Versicle._
Lord, by Thy sweet and sauing sign!
_The Responsor._
Defend vs from our foes and Thine.
_V._ Thou shalt open my lips, O Lord.
_R._ And my mouth shall shew forth Thy praise.
_V._ O God, make speed to save me! 120
_R._ O Lord, make hast to help me!
_V._ Glory be to, &c.
_R._ As it was in the, &c.
THE HYMN.
Now is the noon of Sorrow's night:
High in His patience, as their spite, 125
Lo, the faint Lamb, with weary limb
Beares that huge tree which must bear Him!
That fatall plant, so great of fame
For fruit of sorrow and of shame,
Shall swell with both, for Him, and mix 130
All woes into one crucifix.
Is tortur'd thirst itselfe too sweet a cup?
Gall, and more bitter mocks, shall make it vp.
Are nailes, blunt pens of superficiall smart?
Contempt and scorn can send sure wounds to
search the inmost heart. 135
_The Antiphona._
O deare and sweet dispute
'Twixt Death's and Loue's farr different fruit!
Different as farr
As antidotes and poysons are.
By that first fatall tree 140
Both life and liberty
Were sold and slain;
By this they both look vp, and liue again.
_The Versicle._
Lo, we adore Thee,
Dread Lamb! and bow thus low before Thee. 145
_The Responsor._
'Cause by the couenant of Thy crosse,
Thou hast sau'd the World from certain losse.
_The Prayer._
O Lord IESV-CHRIST, Son of the liuing God!
interpose, I pray Thee, Thine Own pretious death,
Thy crosse and passion, betwixt my soul and Thy 150
iudgment, now and in the hour of my death. And
vouchsafe to graunt vnto me Thy grace and mercy;
vnto all quick and dead, remission and rest; to
Thy Church, peace and concord; to vs sinners,
life and glory euerlasting. Who liuest and reignest 155
with the Father, in the vnity of the Holy Ghost,
one God, world without end. Amen.
THE NINTH.
_The Versicle._
Lord, by Thy sweet and sauing sign,
_The Responsor._
Defend vs from our foes and Thine.
_V._ Thou shalt open my lips, O Lord. 160
_R._ And my mouth shall shew forth Thy praise.
_V._ O God, make speed to save me!
_R._ O Lord, make hast to help me!
_V._ Glory be to, &c.
_R._ As it was in the, &c. 165
THE HYMN.
The ninth with awfull horror hearkened to those groanes
Which taught attention eu'n to rocks and stones.
Hear, Father, hear! Thy Lamb (at last) complaines
Of some more painfull thing then all His paines.
Then bowes His all-obedient head, and dyes 170
His own lou's and our sins' GREAT SACRIFICE.
The sun saw that, and would haue seen no more;
The center shook: her vselesse veil th' inglorious Temple tore.
_The Antiphona._
O strange, mysterious strife
Of open Death and hidden Life! 175
When on the crosse my King did bleed,
Life seem'd to dy, Death dy'd indeed.[26]
_The Versicle._
Lo, we adore Thee,
Dread Lamb! and fall
Thus low before Thee. 180
_The Responsor._
'Cause by the couenant of Thy crosse
Thou hast sau'd at once the whole World's losse.
_The Prayer._
O Lord Iesv-Christ, Son of the liuing God!
interpose, I pray Thee, Thine Own pretious death,
Thy crosse and passion, betwixt my soul and Thy 185
iudgment, now and in the hour of my death. And
vouchsafe to graunt vnto me Thy grace and mercy;
vnto all quick and dead, remission and rest; to
Thy Church, peace and concord; to vs sinners,
life and glory euerlasting. Who liuest and reignest 190
with the Father, in the vnity of the Holy Ghost,
one God, world without end. Amen.
EVENSONG.
_The Versicle._
Lord, by Thy sweet and sauing sign!
_The Responsor._
Defend vs from our foes and Thine.
_V._ Thou shalt open my lips, O Lord! 195
_R._ And my mouth shall shew forth Thy praise.
_V._ O God, make speed to save me!
_R._ O Lord, make hast to help me!
_V._ Glory be to, &c.
_R._ As it was in the, &c. 200
THE HYMN.
But there were rocks would not relent at this:
Lo, for their own hearts, they rend His;
Their deadly hate liues still, and hath
A wild reserve of wanton wrath;
Superfluous spear! But there's a heart stands by 205
Will look no wounds be lost, no deaths shall dy.
Gather now thy Greif's ripe fruit, great mother-maid!
Then sitt thee down, and sing thine eu'nsong in the sad tree's shade.
_The Antiphona._
O sad, sweet tree!
Wofull and ioyfull we 210
Both weep and sing in shade of thee.
When the dear nailes did lock
And graft into thy gracious stock
The hope, the health,
The worth, the wealth 215
Of all the ransom'd World, thou hadst the power
(In that propitious hour)
To poise each pretious limb,
And proue how light the World was, when it weighd with Him.
Wide maist thou spred 220
Thine armes, and with thy bright and blissfull head
O'relook all Libanus. Thy lofty crown
The King Himself is, thou His humble throne,
Where yeilding and yet conquering He
Prou'd a new path of patient victory: 225
When wondring Death by death was slain,
And our Captiuity His captiue ta'ne.
_The Versicle._
Lo, we adore Thee,
Dread LAMB! and bow thus low before Thee.
_The Responsor._
'Cause by the couenant of Thy crosse 230
Thou hast sau'd the World from certain losse.
_The Prayer._
O Lord Iesv-Christ, Son of the liuing, &c.
COMPLINE.
_The Versicle._
Lord, by Thy sweet and sauing sign!
_The Responsor._
Defend vs from our foes and Thine.
_V._ Thou shalt open my lips, O Lord! 235
_R._ And my mouth shall shew forth Thy praise.
_V._ O God, make speed to save me!
_R._ O Lord, make hast to help me!
_V._ Glory be to, &c.
_R._ As it was in the, &c. 240
THE HYMN.
The Complin hour comes last, to call
Vs to our own lives' funerall.
Ah hartlesse task! yet Hope takes head,
And liues in Him that here lyes dead.
Run, Mary, run! Bring hither all the blest 245
Arabia, for thy royall phoenix' nest;
Pour on thy noblest sweets, which, when they touch
This sweeter body, shall indeed be such.
But must Thy bed, Lord, be a borrow'd graue
Who lend'st to all things all the life they haue. 250
O rather vse this heart, thus farr a fitter stone,
'Cause, though a hard and cold one, yet it is Thine own. Amen.
_The Antiphona._
O saue vs then,
Mercyfull King of men!
Since Thou wouldst needs be thus 255
A Saviour, and at such a rate, for vs;
Saue vs, O saue vs, Lord.
We now will own no shorter wish, nor name a narrower word;
Thy blood bids vs be bold,
Thy wounds giue vs fair hold, 260
Thy sorrows chide our shame:
Thy crosse, Thy nature, and Thy name
Aduance our claim,
And cry with one accord
Saue them, O saue them, Lord! 265
THE RECOMMENDATION.[27]
These Houres, and that which houers o're my end,
Into Thy hands and hart, Lord, I commend.
Take both to Thine account, that I and mine
In that hour, and in these, may be all Thine.
That as I dedicate my deuoutest breath 270
To make a kind of life for my Lord's death,
So from His liuing and life-giuing death,
My dying life may draw a new and neuer fleeting breath.
NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS.
In the original edition of this composition, as _supra_ (1648), it is
entitled simply 'Vpon our B[lessed] Saviour's Passion.' What in our text
(1652) constitute the Hymns, were originally numbered as seven stanzas.
A few various readings from 1648 will be found below. Our text is given
in full in 1670 edition, but not very accurately.
_Various readings of the Hymns in 1648 'Steps.'_
I. Line 1. 'The wakefull dawning hast's to sing.'
" 2. The allusion is to the petition in the old Litanies,
'By all Thine _unknown_ sorrows, good Lord, deliver us.'
" 8. 'betray'd' for 'beseigd:' the former perhaps superior.
II. " 1. 'The early Morne.'
" 2. 'It' for 'she.'
III. " 5. 'ther's' for 'there is.'
IV. " 6. 'The fruit' instead of 'for'--a misprint.
V. " 6. 'our great sins' sacrifice.'
VII. " 1. 'The Nightening houre'--a curious coinage.
In the 'Prayer,' 'unto all quick and dead' is dropped, and reads 'the,'
not 'Thy,' Church. In line 55 Turnbull reads 'weakful,' and, line 243,
'heed' for 'head,'--two of a number of provoking blunders in his text.
G.
VEXILLA REGIS:
THE HYMN OF THE HOLY CROSSE.[28]
I.
Look vp, languisting soul! Lo, where the fair 1
Badge of thy faith calls back thy care,
And biddes thee ne're forget
Thy life is one long debt
Of loue, to Him, Who on this painfull tree 5
Paid back the flesh He took for thee.
II.
Lo, how the streames of life, from that full nest
Of loues, Thy Lord's too liberall brest,
Flow in an amorous floud
Of water wedding blood. 10
With these He wash't thy stain, transferred thy smart,
And took it home to His own heart.
III.
But though great Love, greedy of such sad gain,
Vsurpt the portion of thy pain,
And from the nailes and spear 15
Turn'd the steel point of fear:
Their vse is chang'd, not lost; and now they moue
Not stings of wrath, but wounds of loue.
IV.
Tall tree of life! thy truth makes good
What was till now ne're understood, 20
Though the prophetick king
Struck lowd his faithfull string:
It was thy wood he meant should make the throne
For a more than Salomon.
V.
Large throne of Loue! royally spred 25
With purple of too rich a red:
Thy crime is too much duty;
Thy burthen, too much beauty;
Glorious or greiuous more? thus to make good
Thy costly excellence with thy King's own blood. 30
VI.
Euen ballance of both worlds! our world of sin,
And that of grace, Heaun-way'd in Him:
Vs with our price thou weighed'st;
Our price for vs thou payed'st,
Soon as the right-hand scale reioyc't to proue 35
How much Death weigh'd more light then Loue.
VII.
Hail, our alone hope! let thy fair head shoot
Aloft, and fill the nations with thy noble fruit:
The while our hearts and we
Thus graft our selues on thee, 40
Grow thou and they. And be thy fair increase
The sinner's pardon and the iust man's peace.
Liue, O for euer liue and reign
The Lamb Whom His own loue hath slain!
And let Thy lost sheep liue to inherit 45
That kingdom which this Crosse did merit. Amen.
NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS.
These variations &c. as between 1648 and 1652, deserve record:
St. i. line 1. 'Languishing,' which is the reading in 1648.
Ib. line 2. Here, and in v. line 1, I have added 'e' to 'badg' and
'larg' respectively from 1648.
St. vi. line 2. Our text (1652) corrects a manifest blunder of 1648,
which reads 'wag'd' for 'way'd' = weighed. In 1648, lines 3-4 read
'Both with one price were weighed,
Both with one price were paid.'
St. vii. appeared for the first time in our text (1652). In the closing
four lines, line 4, 1648, reads noticeably
'That Kingdome which Thy blessed death did merit.'
The allusion in st. iv. is to the old reading of Psalm xcvi. 10: 'Tell
it among the heathen that the Lord reigneth from _the tree_.' The
reference to Solomon points to the mediaeval mystical interpretations of
Canticles iii. 9-10.
I place 'Vexilla Regis' immediately after the 'Office of the Holy
Crosse,' as really belonging to it, and not to be separated as in 1648.
G.
[THE LORD SILENCES HIS QUESTIONERS.][29]
'Neither durst any man from that day aske Him any more questions.'
_St. Matthew_ xxii.
Mid'st all the darke and knotty snares, 1
Black wit or malice can, or dares,
Thy glorious wisedome breaks the nets,
And treds with uncontrouled steps;
Thy quell'd foes are not onely now 5
Thy triumphs, but Thy trophies too:
They both at once Thy conquests bee,
And Thy conquests' memorie.
Stony amazement makes them stand
Wayting on Thy victorious hand, 10
Like statues fixed to the fame
Of Thy renoune, and their own shame,
As if they onely meant to breath
To be the life of their own death.
'Twas time to hold their peace, when they 15
Had ne're another word to say;
Yet is their silence unto Thee,
The full sound of Thy victorie;
Their silence speaks aloud, and is
Thy well pronounc'd panegyris. 20
While they speak nothing, they speak all
Their share, in Thy memoriall.
While they speake nothing, they proclame
Thee, with the shrillest trump of Fame.
To hold their peace is all the wayes 25
These wretches have to speak Thy praise.
OUR B[LESSED] LORD IN HIS CIRCUMCISION TO HIS FATHER.[30]
1. To Thee these first-fruits of My growing death 1
(For what else is My life?), lo! I bequeath:
2. Tast this, and as Thou lik'st this lesser flood
Expect a sea; My heart shall make it good.
3. Thy wrath that wades here now, e're long shall swim, 5
The floodgate shall be set wide ope for Him.
4. Then let Him drinke, and drinke, and doe His worst
To drowne the wantonnesse of His wild thirst.
5. Now's but the nonage of My paines, My feares
Are yett but hopes, weake as my infant yeares. 10
6. The day of My darke woe is yet but morne,
My teares but tender, and My death new-borne.
7. Yet may these unfledg'd griefes give fate some guesse,
These cradle-torments have their towardnesse.
8. These purple buds of blooming death may bee, 15
Erst the full stature of a fatall tree.
9. And till My riper woes to age are come,
This knife may be the speare's praeludium.
ON THE WOUNDS OF OUR CRUCIFIED LORD.[31]
O, these wakefull wounds of Thine! 1
Are they mouthes? or are they eyes?
Be they mouthes, or be they eyne,
Each bleeding part some one supplies.
Lo! a mouth! whose full-bloom'd lips 5
At too dear a rate are roses:
Lo! a blood-shot eye! that weeps,
And many a cruell teare discloses.
O, thou that on this foot hast laid
Many a kisse, and many a teare; 10
Now thou shalt have all repaid,
What soe're thy charges were.
This foot hath got a mouth and lips
To pay the sweet summe of thy kisses;
To pay thy teares, an eye that weeps, 15
Instead of teares, such gems as this is.
The difference onely this appeares,
(Nor can the change offend)
The debt is paid in ruby-teares
Which thou in pearles did'st lend. 20
VPON THE BLEEDING CRUCIFIX: A SONG.[32]
I.
IIESU, no more! It is full tide:
From Thy head and from Thy feet,
From Thy hands and from Thy side
All the purple riuers meet.
II.
What need Thy fair head bear a part
In showres, as if Thine eyes had none?
What need they help to drown Thy heart,
That striues in torrents of it's own?
III.
Water'd by the showres they bring,
The thornes that Thy blest browe encloses
(A cruell and a costly spring)
Conceiue proud hopes of proving roses.
IV.
Thy restlesse feet now cannot goe
For vs and our eternall good,
As they were euer wont. What though?
They swimme, alas! in their own floud.
V.
Thy hand to giue Thou canst not lift;
Yet will Thy hand still giuing be.
It giues, but O itself's the gift:
It giues though bound; though bound 'tis free.
VI.
But O Thy side, Thy deep-digg'd side!
That hath a double Nilus going:
Nor euer was the Pharian tide
Half so fruitfull, half so flowing.
VII.
No hair so small, but payes his riuer
To this Red Sea of Thy blood;
Their little channells can deliuer
Somthing to the generall floud.
VIII.
But while I speak, whither are run
All the riuers nam'd before?
I counted wrong: there is but one;
But O that one is one all ore.
IX.
Rain-swoln riuers may rise proud,
Bent all to drown and overflow;
But when indeed all's ouerflow'd,
They themselues are drowned too.
X.
This Thy blood's deluge (a dire chance,
Dear Lord, to Thee) to vs is found
A deluge of deliuerance;
A deluge least we should be drown'd. _lest_
N'ere wast Thou in a sense so sadly true,
The well of liuing waters, Lord, till now.
NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS.
The title in 1646 is 'On the bleeding wounds of our crucified Lord:' in
1648 has 'body' for 'wounds:' in 1670 as 1646. I record these
variations, &c.:
St. i. lines 2 and 3, in 1646 and 1670 read
'From Thy hands and from Thy feet,
From Thy head and from Thy side.'
So the SANCROFT MS.
St. ii. In 1646 and 1670 this stanza is the 5th, and in line 2 has
'teares' for 'showres.'
St. iii. This stanza, by some strange oversight, is wholly dropped in
1652. St. iii. not in SANCROFT MS., and our st. ii. is the last. On one
of the fly-leaves of the copy of 1646 edition in Trinity College,
Cambridge, is the following contemporary MS. epigram, which embodies the
sentiment of the stanza:
'_In caput Xti spinis coronatum._
Cerno Caput si Christe tuum mihi vertitur omne
In spinis illud, quod fuit ante rosa.'
Turnbull gives the stanza, but misplaces it after our st. vi.,
overlooking that our st. ii. is in 1646 edition st. v.
St. iv. line 1: in 1646 and 1670 'they' for 'now.'
Line 3, ib. 'as they are wont'--evident inadvertence, as 'ever' is
required by the measure.
Line 4, ib. 'blood' for 'floud:' so also in 1648.
St. v. line 1, ib. 'hand' for 'hands:' 'hand' in 1648, and in SANCROFT
MS.: adopted. Line 4, 'dropps' in SANCROFT MS. for 'gives.'
St. vi. line 3. Our text (1652) prints 'pharian,' the Paris printer
spelling (and mis-spelling) without comprehending the reference to
Pharaoh.
St. vii. line 1, in 1646 and 1670 'not a haire but ...'
St. ix. line 3, in 1648 a capital in 'All's.' G.
TO THE NAME ABOVE EVERY NAME, THE NAME OF IESVS:
A HYMN.[33]
In Vnitate Devs Est
Numisma Vrbani 6.
I sing the name which none can say 1
But touch't with an interiour ray:
The name of our new peace; our good:
Our blisse: and supernaturall blood:
The name of all our liues and loues. 5
Hearken, and help, ye holy doues!
The high-born brood of Day; you bright
Candidates of blissefull light,
The heirs elect of Loue, whose names belong
Vnto the euerlasting life of song; 10
All ye wise sovles, who in the wealthy brest
Of this vnbounded name, build your warm nest.
Awake, my glory, Sovl (if such thou be,
And that fair word at all referr to thee),
Awake and sing, 15
And be all wing;
Bring hither thy whole self; and let me see
What of thy parent Heavn yet speakes in thee.
O thou art poore
Of noble powres, I see, 20
And full of nothing else but empty me:
Narrow, and low, and infinitely lesse
Then this great morning's mighty busynes.
One little world or two
(Alas) will neuer doe; 25
We must haue store.
Goe, Sovl, out of thy self, and seek for more.
Goe and request
Great Natvre for the key of her huge chest
Of Heauns, the self-inuoluing sett of sphears 30
(Which dull mortality more feeles then heares).
Then rouse the nest
Of nimble Art, and trauerse round
The aiery shop of soul-appeasing sound:
And beat a summons in the same 35
All-soueraign name,
To warn each seuerall kind
And shape of sweetnes, be they such
As sigh with supple wind
Or answer artfull touch; 40
That they conuene and come away
To wait at the loue-crowned doores of this illustrious day. _love_
Shall we dare this, my Soul? we'l doe't and bring
No other note for't, but the name we sing.
Wake lvte and harp, and euery sweet-lipp't thing 45
That talkes with tunefull string;
Start into life, and leap with me
Into a hasty fitt-tun'd harmony.
Nor must you think it much
T' obey my bolder touch; 50
I haue authority in Love's name to take you,
And to the worke of Loue this morning wake you.
Wake, in the name
Of Him Who neuer sleeps, all things that are,
Or, what's the same, 55
Are musicall;
Answer my call
And come along;
Help me to meditate mine immortal song.
Come, ye soft ministers of sweet sad mirth, 60
Bring all your houshold stuffe of Heaun on earth;
O you, my Soul's most certain wings,
Complaining pipes, and prattling strings,
Bring all the store
Of sweets you haue; and murmur that you haue no more. 65
Come, ne're to part,
Nature and Art!
Come; and come strong,
To the conspiracy of our spatious song.
Bring all the powres of praise, 70
Your prouinces of well-vnited worlds can raise;
Bring all your lvtes and harps of Heavn and Earth;
Whatere cooperates to the common mirthe:
Vessells of vocall ioyes,
Or you, more noble architects of intellectuall noise, 75
Cymballs of Heau'n, or humane sphears,
Solliciters of sovles or eares;
And when you are come, with all
That you can bring or we can call:
O may you fix 80
For euer here, and mix
Your selues into the long
And euerlasting series of a deathlesse song;
Mix all your many worlds aboue,
And loose them into one of loue. 85
Chear thee my heart!
For thou too hast thy part
And place in the Great Throng
Of this vnbounded all-imbracing song.
Powres of my soul, be proud! 90
And speake lowd
To all the dear-bought Nations, this redeeming Name,
And in the wealth of one rich word, proclaim
New similes to Nature. May it be no wrong
Blest Heauns, to you and your superiour song, 95
That we, dark sons of dust and sorrow,
A while dare borrow
The name of your dilights, and our desires,
And fitt it to so farr inferior lyres.
Our murmurs haue their musick too, 100
Ye mighty Orbes, as well as you;
Nor yeilds the noblest nest
Of warbling Seraphim to the eares of Loue,
A choicer lesson then the ioyfull brest
Of a poor panting turtle-doue. 105
And we, low wormes, haue leaue to doe
The same bright busynes (ye Third Heavens) with you.
Gentle spirits, doe not complain!
We will haue care
To keep it fair, 110
And send it back to you again.
Come, louely Name! Appeare from forth the bright
Regions of peacefull light;
Look from Thine Own illustrious home,
Fair King of names, and come: 115
Leaue all Thy natiue glories in their gorgeous nest,
And giue Thy Self a while the gracious Guest
Of humble soules, that seek to find
The hidden sweets
Which man's heart meets 120
When Thou art Master of the mind.
Come louely Name; Life of our hope!
Lo, we hold our hearts wide ope!
Vnlock Thy cabinet of Day,
Dearest Sweet, and come away. 125
Lo, how the thirsty Lands
Gasp for Thy golden showres! with long-stretcht hands
Lo, how the laboring Earth
That hopes to be
All Heauen by Thee, 130
Leapes at Thy birth!
The' attending World, to wait Thy rise,
First turn'd to eyes;
And then, not knowing what to doe,
Turn'd them to teares, and spent them too. 135
Come royall Name! and pay the expence
Of all this pretious patience;
O come away
And kill the death of this delay!
O, see so many worlds of barren yeares 140
Melted and measur'd out in seas of teares:
O, see the weary liddes of wakefull Hope
(Love's eastern windowes) all wide ope
With curtains drawn,
To catch the day-break of Thy dawn. 145
O, dawn at last, long-lookt for Day!
Take Thine own wings, and come away.
Lo, where aloft it comes! It comes, among
The conduct of adoring spirits, that throng
Like diligent bees, and swarm about it. 150
O, they are wise,
And know what sweetes are suck't from out it:
It is the hiue,
By which they thriue,
Where all their hoard of hony lyes. 155
Lo, where it comes, vpon the snowy Dove's
Soft back; and brings a bosom big with loues:
Welcome to our dark world, Thou womb of Day!
Vnfold Thy fair conceptions, and display
The birth of our bright ioyes, O Thou compacted 160
Body of blessings: Spirit of soules extracted!
O, dissipate Thy spicy powres,
(Cloud of condensed sweets) and break vpon vs
In balmy showrs!
O, fill our senses, and take from vs all force of so
prophane a fallacy, 165
To think ought sweet but that which smells of Thee!
Fair, flowry Name, in none but Thee
And Thy nectareall fragrancy,
Hourly there meetes
An vniuersall synod of all sweets; 170
By whom it is defined thus,
That no perfume
For euer shall presume
To passe for odoriferous,
But such alone whose sacred pedigree 175
Can proue itself some kin (sweet Name!) to Thee.
Sweet Name, in Thy each syllable
A thousand blest Arabias dwell;
A thousand hills of frankincense,
Mountains of myrrh, and beds of spices 180
And ten thousand paradises,
The soul that tasts Thee takes from thence.
How many vnknown worlds there are
Of comforts, which Thou hast in keeping!
How many thousand mercyes there 185
In Pitty's soft lap ly a-sleeping!
Happy he who has the art
To awake them,
And to take them
Home, and lodge them in his heart. 190
O, that it were as it was wont to be!
When Thy old freinds of fire, all full of Thee,
Fought against frowns with smiles; gaue glorious chase
To persecutions; and against the face
Of Death and feircest dangers, durst with braue 195
And sober pace, march on to meet A GRAVE.
On their bold brests, about the world they bore Thee,
And to the teeth of Hell stood vp to teach Thee;
In center of their inmost soules, they wore Thee,
Where rackes and torments striu'd, in vain, to reach Thee. 200
Little, alas, thought they
Who tore the fair brests of Thy freinds,
Their fury but made way
For Thee, and seru'd them in Thy glorious ends.
What did their weapons but with wider pores 205
Inlarge Thy flaming-brested louers,
More freely to transpire
That impatient fire,
The heart that hides Thee hardly couers?
What did their weapons but sett wide the doores 210
For Thee? fair, purple doores, of Loue's deuising;
The ruby windowes which inricht the East
Of Thy so oft-repeated rising!
Each wound of theirs was Thy new morning,
And reinthron'd Thee in Thy rosy nest, 215
With blush of Thine Own blood Thy day adorning:
It was the witt of Loue oreflowd the bounds
Of Wrath, and made Thee way through all those wovnds.
Wellcome, dear, all-adored Name!
For sure there is no knee 220
That knowes not Thee:
Or, if there be such sonns of shame,
Alas! what will they doe
When stubborn rocks shall bow
And hills hang down their heaun-saluting heads 225
To seek for humble beds
Of dust, where in the bashfull shades of Night
Next to their own low Nothing, they may ly,
And couch before the dazeling light of Thy dread majesty.
They that by Loue's mild dictate now 230
Will not adore Thee,
Shall then, with just confusion bow
And break before Thee.
NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS.
The title in 1648 'Steps' is simply 'On the name of Jesus.' In 1670 it
is 'To the Name above every Name, the Name of Jesus, a Hymn,' and
throughout differs from our text (1652) only in usual modernisation of
orthography. The text of 1648 yields these readings:
Line 7, 'the bright.'
" 42, 'of th's.'
" 49, 'Into a habit fit of self tun'd Harmonie.'
" 79, 'you're.'
" 92, 'aloud.'
" 105, 'Seraphins.'
" 106, 'loyall' for 'joyfull.'
" 132, 'heavens.'
" 182 spells 'sillabell.'
" 187, 'The soules tastes thee takes from thence.'
" 202, 'bare.'
" 204, 'ware.'
" 209, 'For Thee: And serv'd therein thy glorious ends.'
See our Essay for critical remarks on the measure and rhythm of this
poem as printed in our text (1652). G.
PSALME XXIII.[34]
Happy me! O happy sheepe! 1
Whom my God vouchsafes to keepe;
Even my God, even He it is,
That points me to these paths of blisse;
On Whose pastures cheerefull Spring, 5
All the yeare doth sit and sing,
And rejoycing, smiles to see
Their green backs weare His liverie:
Pleasure sings my soul to rest,
Plentie weares me at her brest, 10
Whose sweet temper teaches me
Nor wanton, nor in want to be.
At my feet, the blubb'ring mountaine
Weeping, melts into a fountaine;
Whose soft, silver-sweating streames 15
Make high-noon forget his beames:
When my wayward breath is flying,
He calls home my soul from dying;
Strokes and tames my rabid griefe,
And does wooe me into life: 20
When my simple weaknes strayes,
(Tangled in forbidden wayes)
He (my Shepheard) is my guide,
Hee's before me, on my side,
And behind me, He beguiles 25
Craft in all her knottie wiles:
He expounds the weary wonder
Of my giddy steps, and under
Spreads a path, cleare as the day,
Where no churlish rub says nay 30
To my joy-conducted feet,
Whilst they gladly goe to meet
Grace and Peace, to learne new laies,
Tun'd to my great Shepheard's praise.
Come now all ye terrors sally, 35
Muster forth into the valley,
Where triumphant darknesse hovers
With a sable wing, that covers
Brooding horror. Come, thou Death,
Let the damps of thy dull breath 40
Over-shadow even that shade,
And make Darknes' selfe afraid;
There my feet, even there, shall find
Way for a resolved mind.
Still my Shepheard, still my God, 45
Thou art with me; still Thy rod,
And Thy staffe, whose influence
Gives direction, gives defence.
At the whisper of Thy word
Crown'd abundance spreads my boord: 50
While I feast, my foes doe feed
Their ranck malice not their need,
So that with the self-same bread
They are starv'd and I am fed.
How my head in ointment swims! 55
How my cup o'relooks her brims!
So, even so still may I move,
By the line of Thy deare love;
Still may Thy sweet mercy spread
A shady arme above my head, 60
About my paths; so shall I find,
The faire center of my mind,
Thy temple, and those lovely walls
Bright ever with a beame, that falls
Fresh from the pure glance of Thine eye, 65
Lighting to Eternity.
There I'le dwell for ever; there
Will I find a purer aire
To feed my life with, there I'le sup
Balme and nectar in my cup; 70
And thence my ripe soule will I breath
Warme into the armes of Death.
NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS.
In the SANCROFT MS. this is headed 'Ps. 23 (Paraphrasia).' In line 4 it
reads 'paths' for 'wayes,' which I accept; line 27 'weary' for 'giddy,'
and line 28 'giddy' for 'weary,' both adopted; line 29 reads as we have
printed instead of 'Spreads a path as cleare as day;' line 33, 'learne'
for 'meet,' adopted; line 41, 'that' for 'the,' adopted. Only
orthographic further variations. In line 30 'rub' = obstruction, reminds
of SHAKESPEARE'S 'Now every _rub_ is smoothed in our way' (Henry V. ii.
2), and elsewhere. G.
PSALM CXXXVII.[35]
On the proud banks of great Euphrates' flood, 1
There we sate, and there we wept:
Our harpes, that now no musick understood,
Nodding, on the willowes slept:
While unhappy captiv'd wee, 5
Lovely Sion, thought on thee.
They, they that snatcht us from our countrie's breast,
Would have a song carv'd to their eares
In Hebrew numbers, then (O cruell jest!)
When harpes and hearts were drown'd in teares: 10
Come, they cry'd, come sing and play
One of Sion's songs to-day.
Sing? play? to whom (ah!) shall we sing or play,
If not, Jerusalem, to thee?
Ah! thee Jerusalem! ah! sooner may 15
This hand forget the masterie
Of Musick's dainty touch, than I
The musick of thy memory.
Which when I lose, O may at once my tongue
Lose this same busie-speaking art, 20
Vnpearch't, her vocall arteries unstrung,
No more acquainted with my heart,
On my dry pallat's roof to rest
A wither'd leaf, an idle guest.
No, no, Thy good Sion, alone, must crowne 25
The head of all my hope-nurst joyes.
But Edom, cruell thou! thou cryd'st downe, downe
Sinke Sion, downe and never rise,
Her falling thou did'st urge and thrust,
And haste to dash her into dust: 30
Dost laugh? proud Babel's daughter! do, laugh on,
Till thy ruine teach thee teares,
Even such as these; laugh, till a venging throng
Of woes, too late, doe rouze thy feares:
Laugh, till thy children's bleeding bones 35
Weepe pretious teares upon the stones.
IN THE HOLY NATIVITY OF OVR LORD GOD:
A HYMN SVNG AS BY THE SHEPHEARDS.[36]
THE HYMN.
_Chorvs._
Come, we shepheards, whose blest sight 1
Hath mett Loue's noon in Nature's night;
Come, lift we vp our loftyer song
And wake the svn that lyes too long.
To all our world of well-stoln joy 5
He slept; and dreamt of no such thing.
While we found out Heaun's fairer ey
And kis't the cradle of our King.
Tell him He rises now, too late
To show vs ought worth looking at. 10
Tell him we now can show him more
Then he e're show'd to mortall sight;
Then he himselfe e're saw before,
Which to be seen needes not his light.
Tell him, Tityrus, where th' hast been, 15
Tell him Thyrsis, what th' hast seen.
TITYRUS.
Gloomy night embrac't the place
Where the noble Infant lay.
The Babe look't vp and shew'd His face;
In spite of darknes, it was day. 20
It was Thy day, Sweet! and did rise
Not from the East, but from Thine eyes.
_Chorus._ It was Thy day, Sweet.
THYRSIS.
Winter chidde aloud, and sent
The angry North to wage his warres. 25
The North forgott his feirce intent,
And left perfumes in stead of scarres.
By those sweet eyes' persuasiue powrs
Where he mean't frost, he scatter'd flowrs.
_Chorus._ By those sweet eyes. 30
BOTH.
We saw Thee in Thy baulmy-nest,
Young dawn of our aeternall Day!
We saw Thine eyes break from their East
And chase the trembling shades away.
We saw Thee; and we blest the sight, 35
We saw Thee by Thine Own sweet light.
TITYRUS.
Poor world (said I), what wilt thou doe
To entertain this starry Stranger?
Is this the best thou canst bestow?
A cold, and not too cleanly, manger? 40
Contend, the powres of Heau'n and Earth,
To fitt a bed for this huge birthe?
_Chorus._ Contend the powers.
THYRSIS.
Proud world, said I, cease your contest
And let the mighty Babe alone. 45
The phaenix builds the phaenix' nest,
Lov's architecture is his own.
The Babe whose birth embraues this morn,
Made His Own bed e're He was born.
_Chorus._ The Babe whose.... 50
TITYRUS.
I saw the curl'd drops, soft and slow,
Come houering o're the place's head;
Offring their whitest sheets of snow
To furnish the fair Infant's bed:
Forbear, said I; be not too bold, 55
Your fleece is white but 'tis too cold.
_Chorus._ Forbear, sayd I.
THYRSIS.
I saw the obsequious Seraphims
Their rosy fleece of fire bestow.
For well they now can spare their wing, 60
Since Heavn itself lyes here below.
Well done, said I; but are you sure
Your down so warm, will passe for pure?
_Chorus._ Well done, sayd I.
TITYRUS.
No, no! your King's not yet to seeke 65
Where to repose His royall head;
See, see! how soon His new-bloom'd cheek
Twixt's mother's brests is gone to bed.
Sweet choise, said we! no way but so
Not to ly cold, yet sleep in snow. 70
_Chorus._ Sweet choise, said we.
BOTH.
We saw Thee in Thy baulmy nest,
Bright dawn of our aeternall Day!
We saw Thine eyes break from their East
And chase the trembling shades away. 75
We saw Thee: and we blest the sight,
We saw Thee, by Thine Own sweet light.
_Chorus._ We saw Thee, &c.
FVLL CHORVS.
Wellcome, all wonders in one sight!
Aeternity shutt in a span! 80
Sommer in Winter, Day in Night!
Heauen in Earth, and God in man!
Great, little One! Whose all-embracing birth
Lifts Earth to Heauen, stoopes Heau'n to Earth.
Wellcome, though not to gold nor silk, 85
To more then Caesar's birth-right is;
Two sister-seas of virgin-milk,
With many a rarely-temper'd kisse,
That breathes at once both maid and mother,
Warmes in the one, cooles in the other. 90
Shee sings Thy tears asleep, and dips
Her kisses in Thy weeping eye;
She spreads the red leaves of Thy lips,
That in their buds yet blushing lye;
She 'gainst those mother-diamonds, tries 95
The points of her young eagle's eyes.
Wellcome, though not to those gay flyes,
Guilded i' th' beames of earthly kings;
Slippery soules in smiling eyes;
But to poor shepheards' home-spun things; 100
Whose wealth's their flock; whose witt, to be
Well-read in their simplicity.
Yet when young April's husband-showrs
Shall blesse the fruitfull Maja's bed,
We'l bring the first-born of her flowrs 105
To kisse Thy feet and crown Thy head.
To Thee, dread Lamb! Whose loue must keep
The shepheards, more then they the sheep.
To Thee, meek Majesty! soft King
Of simple Graces and sweet Loves: 110
Each of vs his lamb will bring,
Each his pair of sylver doues:
Till burnt at last in fire of Thy fair eyes,
Ourselues become our own best sacrifice.
NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS.
In the SANCROFT MS. the heading is simply 'A Hymne of the Nativitie sung
by the Shepheards.' It furnishes these various readings, though it wants
a good deal of our text (1652):
Lines 1 to 4,
'who haue seene
Daie's King deposed by night's Queene.
Come lift we up our lofty song,
To wake the sun that sleeps too long.'
" 5 to 7,
'Hee (in this our generall joy)
Slept ...
... the faire-ey'd boy.'
" 24, 'Winter chid the world ...'
" 32, 'Bright dawne ...'
" 58 to 63,
'I saw the officious angells bring
The downe that their soft breasts did strow:
For well they now can spare their wings,
When heauen itselfe lies here below.
Faire youth (said I) be not too rough,
Thy downe (though soft)'s not soft enough.'
'Officious' = ready to do good offices: 'obsequious' = obedient, eager
to serve.
Lines 65 to 68,
'The Babe noe sooner 'gan to seeke
Where to lay His louely head;
But streight His eyes advis'd His cheeke
'Twixt's mother's breasts to goe to bed.'
" 79, 'Welcome to our wond'ring sight.'
" 83, 'glorious birth.'
" 85, 'not to gold' for 'nor to gold:' adopted.
" 96, 'points' = pupils (?).
Lines 101 to 103,
'But to poore shepheards' simple things,
That vse not varnish; noe oyl'd arts,
But lift cleane hands full of cleare hearts.'
" 108, '... while they feed the sheepe.'
" 114, 'Wee'l burne ...'
These variations agree with the text of 1646. See our Essay for critical
remarks. G.
NEW YEAR'S DAY.[37]
Rise, thou best and brightest morning!
Rosy with a double red;
With thine own blush thy cheeks adorning,
And the dear drops this day were shed.
All the purple pride, that laces
The crimson curtains of thy bed,
Guilds thee not with so sweet graces,
Nor setts thee in so rich a red.
Of all the fair-cheek't flowrs that fill thee,
None so fair thy bosom strowes,
As this modest maiden lilly
Our sins haue sham'd into a rose.
Bid thy golden god, the sun,
Burnisht in his best beames rise,
Put all his red-ey'd rubies on;
These rubies shall putt out their eyes.
Let him make poor the purple East,
Search what the world's close cabinets keep,
Rob the rich births of each bright nest
That flaming in their fair beds sleep.
Let him embraue his own bright tresses
With a new morning made of gemmes;
And wear, in those his wealthy dresses,
Another day of diadems.
When he hath done all he may
To make himselfe rich in his rise,
All will be darknes to the day
That breakes from one of these bright eyes.
And soon this sweet truth shall appear,
Dear Babe, ere many dayes be done;
The Morn shall come to meet Thee here,
And leaue her own neglected sun.
Here are beautyes shall bereaue him
Of all his eastern paramours.
His Persian louers all shall leaue him,
And swear faith to Thy sweeter powres;
Nor while they leave him shall they lose the sun,
But in Thy fairest eyes find two for one.
NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS.
St. ii. line 1,
'All the purple pride that laces;'
the reference is to the empurpled lighter and lace- (or gauze-) like
clouds of the morning. The heavier clouds are the 'crimson curtains,'
the 'purple laces' the fleecy, lace-like, and empurpled streakings of
the lighter and dissolving clouds, which the Poet likens to the lace
that edged the coverlet, and possibly other parts of the bed and
bedstead. SHAKESPEARE describes a similar appearance with the same word,
but uses it in the sense of inter or cross lacing, when he makes Juliet
say (iii. 5),
'look, love, what envious streaks
Do _lace_ the severing clouds in yonder East.'
So too in stanza v. 'each sparkling nest,' the flame-coloured clouds are
intended. 'Nest,' like 'bud,' is a favourite word with CRASHAW, and he
uses it freely. In 1648 edition, st. iii. line 2 reads 'showes;' stanza
v. line 2, 'cabinets;' stanza viii. line 5, 'and meet;' stanza ix.
'paramours' = lovers, wooers, _not_ as now signifying loose love. G.
IN THE GLORIOVS EPIPHANIE OF OVR LORD GOD:
A HYMN SVNG AS BY THE THREE KINGS.[38]
_1 Kinge._ Bright Babe! Whose awfull beautyes make 1
The morn incurr a sweet mistake;
_2 Kinge._ For Whom the officious Heauns deuise
To disinheritt the sun's rise:
_3 Kinge._ Delicately to displace 5
The day, and plant it fairer in Thy face.
_1 Kinge._ O Thou born King of loues!
_2 Kinge._ Of lights!
_3 Kinge._ Of ioyes!
_Chorus._ Look vp, sweet Babe, look vp and see 10
For loue of Thee,
Thus farr from home
The East is come
To seek her self in Thy sweet eyes.
_1 Kinge._ We, who strangely went astray, 15
Lost in a bright
Meridian night.
_2 Kinge._ A darknes made of too much day.
_3 Kinge._ Becken'd from farr
By Thy fair starr, 20
Lo, at last haue found our way.
_Chorus._ To Thee, Thou Day of Night! Thou East of West!
Lo, we at last haue found the way
To Thee, the World's great vniuersal East,
The generall and indifferent Day. 25
_1 Kinge._ All-circling point! all-centring sphear!
The World's one, round, aeternall year:
_2 Kinge._ Whose full and all-vnwrinkled face
Nor sinks nor swells with time or place;
_3 Kinge._ But euery where and euery while 30
Is one consistent, solid smile:
_1 Kinge._ Not vext and tost
_2 Kinge._ 'Twixt Spring and frost;
_3 Kinge._ Nor by alternate shredds of light,
Sordidly shifting hands with shades and Night. 35
_Chorus._ O little all! in Thy embrace
The World lyes warm, and likes his place;
Nor does his full globe fail to be
Kist on both his cheeks by Thee.
Time is too narrow for Thy year, 40
Nor makes the whole World Thy half-sphear.
_1 Kinge._ To Thee, to Thee
From him we flee.
_2 Kinge._ From him, whom by a more illustrious ly,
The blindnes of the World did call the eye. 45
_3 Kinge._ To Him, Who by these mortall clouds hast made
Thyself our sun, though Thine Own shade.
_1 Kinge._ Farewell, the World's false light!
Farewell, the white
Aegypt; a long farewell to thee 50
Bright idol, black idolatry:
The dire face of inferior darknes, kis't
And courted in the pompus mask of a more specious mist.
_2 Kinge._ Farewell, farewell
The proud and misplac't gates of Hell, 55
Pertch't in the Morning's way _perched._
And double-guilded as the doores of Day:
The deep hypocrisy of Death and Night
More desperately dark, because more bright.
_3 Kinge._ Welcome, the World's sure way! 60
Heavn's wholsom ray.
_Chorus._ Wellcome to vs; and we
(Sweet!) to our selues, in Thee.
_1 Kinge._ The deathles Heir of all Thy Father's day!
_2 Kinge._ Decently born! 65
Embosom'd in a much more rosy Morn:
The blushes of Thy all-vnblemisht mother.
_3 Kinge._ No more that other
Aurora shall sett ope
Her ruby casements, or hereafter hope 70
From mortall eyes
To meet religious welcomes at her rise.
_Chorus._ We (pretious ones!) in you haue won
A gentler Morn, a iuster sun.
_1 Kinge._ His superficiall beames sun-burn't our skin; 75
_2 Kinge._ But left within
_3 Kinge._ The Night and Winter still of Death and Sin.
_Chorus._ Thy softer yet more certaine darts
Spare our eyes, but peirce our harts:
_1 Kinge._ Therfore with his proud Persian spoiles 80
_2 Kinge._ We court Thy more concerning smiles.
_3 Kinge._ Therfore with his disgrace
We guild the humble cheek of this chast place;
_Chorus._ And at Thy feet powr forth his face.
_1 Kinge._ The doating Nations now no more 85
Shall any day but Thine adore.
_2 Kinge._ Nor--much lesse--shall they leaue these eyes
For cheap Aegyptian deityes.
_3 Kinge._ In whatsoe're more sacred shape
Of ram, he-goat, or reuerend ape; 90
Those beauteous rauishers opprest so sore
The too-hard-tempted nations.
_1 Kinge._ Neuer more
By wanton heyfer shall be worn
_2 Kinge._ A garland, or a guilded horn: 95
The altar-stall'd ox, fatt Osyris now
With his fair sister cow
_3 Kinge._ Shall kick the clouds no more; but lean and tame,
_Chorus._ See His horn'd face, and dy for shame:
And Mithra now shall be no name. 100
_1 Kinge._ No longer shall the immodest lust
Of adulterous godles dust
_2 Kinge._ Fly in the face of Heau'n; as if it were
The poor World's fault that He is fair. 105
_3 Kinge._ Nor with peruerse loues and religious rapes
Reuenge Thy bountyes in their beauteous shapes;
And punish best things worst; because they stood
Guilty of being much for them too good.
_1 Kinge._ Proud sons of Death! that durst compell 110
Heau'n it self to find them Hell:
_2 Kinge._ And by strange witt of madnes wrest
From this World's East the other's West.
_3 Kinge._ All-idolizing wormes! that thus could crowd
And vrge their sun into Thy cloud; 115
Forcing His sometimes eclips'd face to be
A long deliquium to the light of Thee.
_Chorus._ Alas! with how much heauyer shade
The shamefac't lamp hung down his head
For that one eclipse he made, 120
Then all those he suffered!
_1 Kinge._ For this he look't so bigg; and euery morn
With a red face confes't his scorn.
Or hiding his vex't cheeks in a hir'd mist
Kept them from being so vnkindly kis't. 125
_2 Kinge._ It was for this the Day did rise
So oft with blubber'd eyes:
For this the Evening wept; and we ne're knew
But call'd it deaw.
_3 Kinge._ This dayly wrong 130
Silenc't the morning-sons, and damp't their song:
_Chorus._ Nor was't our deafnes, but our sins, that thus
Long made th' harmonious orbes all mute to vs.
_1 Kinge._ Time has a day in store
When this so proudly poor 135
And self-oppressed spark, that has so long
By the loue-sick World bin made
Not so much their sun as shade:
Weary of this glorious wrong
From them and from himself shall flee 140
For shelter to the shadow of Thy tree:
_Chorus._ Proud to haue gain'd this pretious losse
And chang'd his false crown for Thy crosse.
_2 Kinge._ That dark Day's clear doom shall define
Whose is the master Fire, which sun should shine: 145
That sable judgment-seat shall by new lawes
Decide and settle the great cause
Of controuerted light:
_Chorus._ And Natur's wrongs rejoyce to doe Thee right.
_3 Kinge._ That forfeiture of Noon to Night shall pay 150
All the idolatrous thefts done by this Night of Day;
And the great Penitent presse his own pale lipps
With an elaborate loue-eclipse:
To which the low World's lawes
Shall lend no cause, 155
_Chorus._ Saue those domestick which He borrowes
From our sins and His Own sorrowes.
_1 Kinge._ Three sad hours' sackcloth then shall show to vs
His penance, as our fault, conspicuous:
_2 Kinge._ And He more needfully and nobly proue 160
The Nations' terror now then erst their loue.
_3 Kinge._ Their hated loues changd into wholsom feares:
_Chorus._ The shutting of His eye shall open their's.
_1 Kinge._ As by a fair-ey'd fallacy of Day
Miss-ledde, before, they lost their way; 165
So shall they, by the seasonable fright
Of an vnseasonable Night,
Loosing it once again, stumble on true Light:
_2 Kinge._ And as before His too-bright eye
Was their more blind idolatry; 170
So his officious blindnes now shall be
Their black, but faithfull perspectiue of Thee:
_3 Kinge._ His new prodigious Night,
Their new and admirable light,
The supernaturall dawn of Thy pure Day; 175
While wondring they
(The happy conuerts now of Him
Whom they compell'd before to be their sin)
Shall henceforth see
To kisse him only as their rod, 180
Whom they so long courted as God.
_Chorus._ And their best vse of him they worship't, be
To learn of him at last, to worship Thee.
_1 Kinge._ It was their weaknes woo'd his beauty;
But it shall be 185
Their wisdome now, as well as duty,
To injoy his blott; and as a large black letter
Vse it to spell Thy beautyes better;
And make the Night it self their torch to Thee.
_2 Kinge._ By the oblique ambush of this close night 190
Couch't in that conscious shade
The right-ey'd Areopagite
Shall with a vigorous guesse inuade
And catch Thy quick reflex; and sharply see
On this dark ground 195
To descant Thee.
_3 Kinge._ O prize of the rich Spirit! with what feirce chase
Of his strong soul, shall he
Leap at thy lofty face,
And seize the swift flash, in rebound 200
From this obsequious cloud,
Once call'd a sun,
Till dearly thus vndone;
_Chorus._ Till thus triumphantly tam'd (O ye two
Twinne svnnes!) and taught now to negotiate you. 205
_1 Kinge._ Thus shall that reuerend child of Light,
_2 Kinge._ By being scholler first of that new Night,
Come forth great master of the mystick Day;
_3 Kinge._ And teach obscure mankind a more close way
By the frugall negatiue light 210
Of a most wise and well-abused Night
To read more legible Thine originall ray;
_Chorus._ And make our darknes serue Thy Day:
Maintaining 'twixt Thy World and oures
A commerce of contrary powres, 215
A mutuall trade
'Twixt sun and shade,
By confederat black and white
Borrowing Day and lending Night. 219
_1 Kinge._ Thus we, who when with all the noble powres
That (at Thy cost) are call'd, not vainly, ours:
We vow to make braue way
Vpwards, and presse on for the pure intelligentiall prey;
_2 Kinge._ At least to play
The amorous spyes 225
And peep and proffer at Thy sparkling throne;
_3 Kinge._ In stead of bringing in the blissfull prize
And fastening on Thine eyes:
Forfeit our own
And nothing gain 230
But more ambitious losse at last, of brain;
_Chorus._ Now by abased liddes shall learn to be
Eagles; and shutt our eyes that we may see.
_The Close._
[_Chorus._] Therfore to Thee and Thine auspitious ray
(Dread Sweet!) lo thus 236
At last by vs,
The delegated eye of Day
Does first his scepter, then himself, in solemne tribute pay.
Thus he vndresses 240
His sacred vnshorn tresses;
At Thy adored feet, thus he layes down
_1 Kinge._ His gorgeous tire
Of flame and fire,
_2 Kinge._ His glittering robe. _3 Kinge._ His sparkling crown; 245
_1 Kinge._ His gold: _2 Kinge._ His mirrh: _3 Kinge._ His frankincense.
_Chorus._ To which he now has no pretence:
For being show'd by this Day's light, how farr
He is from sun enough to make Thy starr,
His best ambition now is but to be 250
Somthing a brighter shadow, Sweet, of Thee.
Or on Heaun's azure forhead high to stand
Thy golden index; with a duteous hand
Pointing vs home to our own sun
The World's and his Hyperion. 255
NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS.
The title in 1648 edition is simply 'A Hymne for the Epiphanie. Sung as
by the three Kings.' Except the usual slight changes of orthography, the
following are all the variations between the two texts necessary to
record: and I give with them certain corrective and explanatory notes:
line 25, 'indifferent' is = impartial, not as now 'unconcerned.'
Line 52, 1648 edition misprints 'his't' for 'kis't.' In the 51st line
the 'bright idol' is the sun.
Line 83, ib. reads 'thy' for 'this.'
" 95, 'a guilded horn.' Cf. Juvenal, Satire x.
" 99, ib. is given to 3d King. Throughout we have corrected
a number of slips of the Paris printer in his figures.
Line 108, ib. spells 'to' for 'too.'
" 117, '_deliquium_' = swoon, faint. In chemistry = melting.
" 122, 1648 edition reads 'his' for 'this;' and I have
adopted it.
Line 143, ib. reads 'deere:' a misprint.
" 155, ib. reads 'domesticks.'
" 180, ib. reads 'the' for 'their.'
" 186, ib. drops 'it.'
" 195, ib. reads 'what' for 'that,' and in next line 'his'
for 'this,' of 1652: both adopted.
Line 212, 'legible' is = legibly.
" 224 and onward, in 1648 is printed 'least,' in our text
(1652) 'lest.' Except in line 224 it is plainly = last, and so I
read it in 231st and 237th.
See our Essay for Miltonic parallels with lines in this remarkable
composition. Line 46, 'these mortal clouds,' _i.e._ of infant flesh. Cf.
Sosp. d' Herode, stanza xxiii.
'That He whom the sun serves should faintly peep
Through _clouds of infant flesh_.'
Line 114, 'And urge their sun into Thy cloud,' _i.e._ into becoming Thy
cloud, forcing him to become 'a long deliquium to the light of thee.'
Line 189, our text (1652) misprints 'in self.' Line 190, 'By the oblique
ambush,' &c. The Kings continuing in the spirit of prophecy, and with
words not to be understood till their fulfilment, pass on from the
dimming of the sun at the Crucifixion to a second dimming, but this time
through the splendour of a brighter light, at the conversion of him who
was taken to preach to the Gentiles in the court of the Areopagites. The
speaker, or rather CRASHAW, takes the view which at first sight may seem
to be implied in the gospel narrative, that the light brighter than
midday shone round about SAUL and his companions but not on them, they
being couched in the conscious shade of the daylight. Throughout, there
is a double allusion to this second dimming of the sun as manifesting
Christ to St. Paul and the Gentiles, and to the dimming of the eyes, and
the walking in darkness for a time of him who as a light on Earth was to
manifest the True Light to the world. Throughout, too, there is a kind
of parallelism indicated between the two lesser lights. Both rebellions
were to be dimmed and brought into subjection, and then to shine forth
'right-eyed' in renewed and purified splendour as evidences of the Sun
of Righteousness. Hence at the close, the chorus calls them 'ye
twin-suns,'--and the words, 'Till thus triumphantly tamed' refer equally
to both. The punctuation to make this clear should be '... sun, ...
undone; ...' 'To negotiate you' (both word and metaphor being rather
unhappily chosen) means, to pass you current as the true-stamped image
of the Deity. 'O price of the rich Spirit' (line 197) may be made to
refer to 'thee [O Christ], price of the rich spirit' of Paul, but 'may
be' is almost too strong to apply to such an interpretation. It is far
more consonant to the structure and tenor of the whole passage, to read
it as an epithet applied to St. Paul: 'O prize of the rich Spirit of
grace.' I have also without hesitation changed 'of this strong soul'
into 'of _his_ strong soul.' 'Oblique ambush' may refer to the oblique
rays of the sun now rays of darkness, but the primary reference is to
the indirect manner and 'vigorous guess,' by which St. Paul, mentally
glancing from one to the other light, learned through the dimming of the
sun to believe in the Deity of Him who spake from out the dimming
brightness. The same thought, though with a strained and less successful
effort of expression, appears in the song of the third King, 'with that
fierce chase,' &c.
Line 251. 'Somthing a brighter shadow (Sweet) of Thee.' Apparently a
remembrance of a passage which THOMAS HEYWOOD, in his 'Hierarchie of the
Angels,' gives from a Latin translation of PLATO, 'Lumen est umbra Dei
et Deus est Lumen Luminis.' On which see our Essay. Perhaps the same
gave rise to the thought that the sun eclipsed God, or shut Him out as a
cloud or shade, or made night, _e.g._
'And urge their sun ...
... eclipse he made:' (lines 115-120).
'Not so much their sun as shade
... by this night of day:' (lines 138-151). G.
TO THE QVEEN'S MAIESTY.[39]
MADAME, 1
'Mongst those long rowes of crownes that guild your race,
These royall sages sue for decent place:
The day-break of the Nations; their first ray,
When the dark World dawn'd into Christian Day, 5
And smil'd i' th' Babe's bright face; the purpling bud
And rosy dawn of the right royall blood;
Fair first-fruits of the Lamb! sure kings in this,
They took a kingdom while they gaue a kisse.
But the World's homage, scarse in these well blown, 10
We read in you (rare queen) ripe and full-grown.
For from this day's rich seed of diadems
Does rise a radiant croppe of royalle stemms,
A golden haruest of crown'd heads, that meet
And crowd for kisses from the Lamb's white feet: 15
In this illustrious throng, your lofty floud
Swells high, fair confluence of all high-born bloud:
With your bright head, whole groues of scepters bend
Their wealthy tops, and for these feet contend.
So swore the Lamb's dread Sire: and so we see't, 20
Crownes, and the heads they kisse, must court these feet.
Fix here, fair majesty! May your heart ne're misse
To reap new crownes and kingdoms from that kisse;
Nor may we misse the ioy to meet in you
The aged honors of this day still new. 25
May the great time, in you, still greater be,
While all the year is your epiphany;
While your each day's deuotion duly brings
Three kingdomes to supply this day's three kings.
NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS.
In 1648 the title is 'To the Queene's Majestie upon his dedicating to
her the foregoing Hymne, viz. "A Hymne for the Epiphanie,"' which there
precedes, but in 1652 follows, the dedicatory lines to the Queen. 1648
furnishes these variations: line 7 misprints 'down' for 'dawn:' line 11
reads 'deare' for 'rare:' line 14 'royall' for 'golden:' line 18
corrects our text's misprint of 'whose' for 'whole,' which I have
accepted: line 20 reads 'great' for 'dread.'
In line 3 we read
'Those royall sages sue for decent place.'
We know that the King on Twelfth-day presented gold, frankincense and
myrrh, and so perhaps did the Queen. But these gifts were not presented
to the magi-kings, and CRASHAW seems to sue on behalf of 'these royall
sages.' The explanation doubtless is that this was a verse-letter to the
Queen, enclosing as a gift his Epiphany Hymn 'sung as by the three
Kings.'
In line 5 'the purpling bud,' &c. requires study. Led by the (erroneous)
punctuation (face,) I supposed this clause to refer to the 'Babe.' But
would our Poet have said that the 'dawn of the world smiled on the
Babe's face,' and in the same breath have called the face a 'rosy dawn'?
Looking to this, and his rather profuse employment of 'bud,' I now
believe the clause to be another description of the kings, and punctuate
(face;). The rhythm of the passage is certainly improved thereby and
made more like that of CRASHAW, and the words 'right royall blood,'
which may be thought to become difficult, can be thus explained. The
races of the heathen kings were not 'royal,' their authority being
usurped and falsely derived from false gods, and the kingly blood first
became truly royal when the kings recognised the supreme sovereignty of
the King of kings and the derivation of their authority from Him, and
when they were in turn recognised by Him. Hence the use of the epithet
'purpling,' the Christian or Christ-accepting kings being the first who
were truly 'born in the purple,' or '_right_ royall blood.'
In lines 15-18, as punctuated in preceding editions, the Poet is made to
arrange his words after a fashion hardly to be called English, and to
jumble his metaphors like a poetaster or 4th of July orator in America.
But both sense and poetry are restored by taking the (!) after 'blood'
as at least equal to (:), and by replacing 'whose' by 'whole,' as in
1648. This seems to us restoration, not change. Even thus read, however,
the passage is somewhat cloudy; but the construction is--the groves of
sceptres of your high-born ancestors bend with you their wealthy tops,
when you bow down your head. Our Poet is fond of inversions, and they
are sometimes more obscure than they ought to be. Line 20 = Psalm i.,
and cf. Philip. ii. 11. G.
VPON EASTER DAY.[40]
Rise heire of fresh Eternity 1
From thy virgin tombe!
Rise mighty Man of wonders, and Thy World with Thee!
Thy tombe the uniuersall East,
Nature's new wombe, 5
Thy tombe, fair Immortalitie's perfumed nest.
Of all the glories make Noone gay,
This is the Morne;
This Rock buds forth the fountaine of the streames of Day;
In Joye's white annalls live this howre 10
When Life was borne;
No cloud scoule on His radiant lids, no tempest lower.
Life, by this Light's nativity
All creatures have;
Death onely by this Daye's just doome is forc't to dye, 15
Nor is Death forc't; for may he ly
Thron'd in Thy grave,
Death will on this condition be content to dye.
SOSPETTO D' HERODE.
LIBRO PRIMO.[41]
ARGOMENTO.
_Casting the times with their strong signes,
Death's master his owne death divines:
Strugling for helpe, his best hope is
Herod's suspition may heale his.
Therefore he sends a fiend to wake
The sleeping tyrant's fond mistake; _foolish_
Who feares (in vaine) that He Whose birth
Meanes Heav'n, should meddle with his Earth._
I.
Muse, now the servant of soft loves no more,
Hate is thy theame, and Herod, whose unblest
Hand (O what dares not jealous greatnesse?) tore
A thousand sweet babes from their mothers' brest:
The bloomes of martyrdome. O be a dore
Of language to my infant lips, yee best
Of confessours: whose throates answering his swords,
Gave forth your blood for breath, spoke soules for words.
II.
Great Anthony! Spain's well-beseeming pride,
Thou mighty branch of emperours and kings;
The beauties of whose dawne what eye may bide?
Which with the sun himselfe weigh's equall wings;
Mappe of heroick worth! whom farre and wide
To the beleeving world, Fame boldly sings:
Deigne thou to weare this humble wreath, that bowes
To be the sacred honour of thy browes.
III.
Nor needs my Muse a blush, or these bright flowers
Other than what their owne blest beauties bring:
They were the smiling sons of those sweet bowers
That drink the deaw of life, whose deathlesse spring,
Nor Sirian flame nor Borean frost deflowers:
From whence heav'n-labouring bees with busie wing,
Suck hidden sweets, which well-digested proves
Immortall hony for the hive of loves.
IV.
Thou, whose strong hand with so transcendent worth,
Holds high the reine of faire Parthenope,
That neither Rome nor Athens can bring forth
A name in noble deeds rivall to thee!
Thy fame's full noise, makes proud the patient Earth,
Farre more then, matter for my Muse and mee.
The Tyrrhene Seas and shores sound all the same
And in their murmurs keepe thy mighty name.
V.
Below the bottome of the great Abysse,
There where one center reconciles all things:
The World's profound heart pants; there placed is
Mischiefe's old master. Close about him clings
A curl'd knot of embracing snakes, that kisse
His correspondent cheekes: these loathsome strings
Hold the perverse prince in eternall ties
Fast bound, since first he forfeited the skies.
VI.
The judge of torments and the king of teares,
He fills a burnisht throne of quenchlesse fire:
And for his old faire roabes of light, he weares
A gloomy mantle of darke flames; the tire
That crownes his hated head on high appeares:
Where seav'n tall hornes (his empire's pride) aspire.
And to make up Hell's majesty, each horne
Seav'n crested Hydras, horribly adorne.
VII.
His eyes, the sullen dens of Death and Night,
Startle the dull ayre with a dismall red:
Such his fell glances, as the fatall light
Of staring comets, that looke kingdomes dead.
From his black nostrills, and blew lips, in spight
Of Hell's owne stinke, a worser stench is spread.
His breath Hell's lightning is: and each deepe groane
Disdaines to think that Heav'n thunders alone.
VIII.
His flaming eyes' dire exhalation,
Vnto a dreadfull pile gives fiery breath;
Whose unconsum'd consumption preys upon
The never-dying life of a long death.
In this sad house of slow destruction,
(His shop of flames) hee fryes himself, beneath
A masse of woes; his teeth for torment gnash,
While his steele sides sound with his tayle's strong lash.
IX.
Three rigourous virgins waiting still behind,
Assist the throne of th' iron-sceptred king.
With whips of thornes and knotty vipers twin'd
They rouse him, when his ranke thoughts need a sting.
Their lockes are beds of uncomb'd snakes that wind
About their shady browes in wanton rings.
Thus reignes the wrathfull king, and while he reignes,
His scepter and himselfe both he disdaines.
X.
Disdainefull wretch! how hath one bold sinne cost
Thee all the beauties of thy once bright eyes!
How hath one black eclipse cancell'd, and crost
The glories that did gild thee in thy rise!
Proud morning of a perverse day! how lost
Art thou unto thy selfe, thou too selfe-wise
Narcissus! foolish Phaeton! who for all
Thy high-aym'd hopes, gaind'st but a flaming fall.
XI.
From Death's sad shades to the life-breathing ayre,
This mortall enemy to mankind's good,
Lifts his malignant eyes, wasted with care,
To become beautifull in humane blood.
Where Iordan melts his chrystall, to make faire
The fields of Palestine, with so pure a flood,
There does he fixe his eyes: and there detect
New matter, to make good his great suspect.
XII.
He calls to mind th' old quarrell, and what sparke
Set the contending sons of Heav'n on fire:
Oft in his deepe thought he revolves the darke
Sibill's divining leaves: he does enquire
Into th' old prophesies, trembling to marke
How many present prodigies conspire,
To crowne their past predictions, both he layes
Together, in his pondrous mind both weighs.
XIII.
Heaven's golden-winged herald, late he saw
To a poore Galilean virgin sent:
How low the bright youth bow'd, and with what awe
Immortall flowers to her faire hand present.
He saw th' old Hebrewe's wombe, neglect the law
Of age and barrennesse, and her babe prevent _anticipate_
His birth by his devotion, who began
Betimes to be a saint, before a man.
XIV.
He saw rich nectar-thawes, release the rigour
Of th' icy North; from frost-bound Atlas hands,
His adamantine fetters fall: green vigour
Gladding the Scythian rocks and Libian sands.
He saw a vernall smile, sweetly disfigure
Winter's sad face, and through the flowry lands
Of faire Engaddi, hony-sweating fountaines
With manna, milk, and balm, new-broach the mountaines.
XV.
He saw how in that blest Day-bearing Night,
The Heav'n-rebuked shades made hast away;
How bright a dawne of angels with new light
Amaz'd the midnight world, and made a Day
Of which the Morning knew not. Mad with spight
He markt how the poore shepheards ran to pay
Their simple tribute to the Babe, Whose birth
Was the great businesse both of Heav'n and Earth.
XVI.
He saw a threefold Sun, with rich encrease
Make proud the ruby portalls of the East.
He saw the Temple sacred to sweet Peace,
Adore her Prince's birth, flat on her brest.
He saw the falling idolls, all confesse
A comming Deity: He saw the nest
Of pois'nous and unnaturall loves, Earth-nurst,
Toucht with the World's true antidote, to burst.
XVII.
He saw Heav'n blossome with a new-borne light,
On which, as on a glorious stranger gaz'd
The golden eyes of Night: whose beame made bright
The way to Beth'lem and as boldly blaz'd,
(Nor askt leave of the sun) by day as night.
By whom (as Heav'ns illustrious hand-maid) rais'd,
Three kings (or what is more) three wise men went
Westward to find the World's true orient.
XVIII.
Strucke with these great concurrences of things,
Symptomes so deadly unto Death and him;
Faine would he have forgot what fatall strings
Eternally bind each rebellious limbe.
He shooke himselfe, and spread his spatious wings:
Which like two bosom'd sailes, embrace the dimme
Aire, with a dismall shade; but all in vaine:
Of sturdy adamant is his strong chaine.
XIX.
While thus Heav'n's highest counsails, by the low
Footsteps of their effects, he trac'd too well,
He tost his troubled eyes: embers that glow
Now with new rage, and wax too hot for Hell:
With his foule clawes he fenc'd his furrowed brow,
And gave a gastly shreeke, whose horrid yell
Ran trembling through the hollow vaults of Night,
The while his twisted tayle he gnaw'd for spight.
XX.
Yet on the other side, faine would he start
Above his feares, and thinke it cannot be.
He studies Scripture, strives to sound the heart
And feele the pulse of every prophecy;
He knows (but knowes not how, or by what art)
The Heav'n-expecting ages hope to see
A mighty Babe, Whose pure, unspotted birth
From a chast virgin wombe, should blesse the Earth.
XXI.
But these vast mysteries his senses smother,
And reason (for what's faith to him?) devoure.
How she that is a maid should prove a mother,
Yet keepe inviolate her virgin flower;
How God's eternall Sonne should be Man's brother,
Poseth his proudest intellectuall power.
How a pure Spirit should incarnate bee,
And Life it selfe weare Death's fraile livery.
XXII.
That the great angell-blinding Light should shrinke
His blaze, to shine in a poore shepherd's eye:
That the unmeasur'd God so low should sinke,
As pris'ner in a few poore rags to lye:
That from His mother's brest He milke should drinke,
Who feeds with nectar Heav'n's faire family:
That a vile manger His low bed should prove,
Who in a throne of stars thunders above.
XXIII.
That He Whom the sun serves, should faintly peepe
Through clouds of infant flesh: that He the old
Eternall Word should be a child, and weepe:
That He Who made the fire, should feare the cold:
That Heav'n's high Majesty His court should keepe
In a clay-cottage, by each blast control'd:
That Glorie's Self should serve our griefs and feares,
And free Eternity, submit to yeares.
XXIV.
And further, that the Lawe's eternall Giver
Should bleed in His Owne Lawe's obedience:
And to the circumcising knife deliver
Himselfe, the forfet of His slave's offence:
That the unblemisht Lambe, blessed for ever,
Should take the marke of sin, and paine of sence.
These are the knotty riddles, whose darke doubt
Intangles his lost thoughts, past getting out.
XXV.
While new thoughts boyl'd in his enraged brest,
His gloomy bosome's darkest character
Was in his shady forehead seen exprest:
The forehead's shade in Griefe's expression there,
Is what in signe of joy among the blest
The face's lightning, or a smile is here.
Those stings of care that his strong heart opprest,
A desperate, Oh mee! drew from his deepe brest.
XXVI.
Oh mee! (thus bellow'd he) Oh mee! what great
Portents before mine eyes their powers advance?
And serves my purer sight, onely to beat
Downe my proud thought, and leave it in a trance?
Frowne I: and can great Nature keep her seat?
And the gay starrs lead on their golden dance?
Can His attempts above still prosp'rous be,
Auspicious still, in spight of Hell and me?
XXVII.
Hee has my Heaven (what would He more?) whose bright
And radiant scepter this bold hand should beare:
And for the never-fading fields of light,
My faire inheritance, He confines me here
To this darke house of shades, horrour and night,
To draw a long-liv'd death, where all my cheere
Is the solemnity my sorrow weares,
That mankind's torment waits upon my teares.
XXVIII.
Darke, dusky Man, He needs would single forth,
To make the partner of His Owne pure ray:
And should we powers of Heav'n, spirits of worth,
Bow our bright heads before a king of clay?
It shall not be, said I, and clombe the North,
Where never wing of angell yet made way:
What though I mist my blow? yet I strooke high,
And to dare something, is some victory.
XXIX.
Is He not satisfied? meanes He to wrest
Hell from me too, and sack my territories?
Vile humane nature means He not t' invest
(O my despight!) with His divinest glories?
And rising with rich spoiles upon His brest
With His faire triumphs fill all future stories?
Must the bright armes of Heav'n, rebuke these eyes?
Mocke me, and dazle my darke mysteries?
XXX.
Art thou not Lucifer? he to whom the droves
Of stars that gild the Morne, in charge were given?
The nimblest of the lightning-winged loves,
The fairest, and the first-borne smile of Heav'n?
Looke in what pompe the mistrisse planet moves
Rev'rently circled by the lesser seaven:
Such, and so rich, the flames that from thine eyes,
Opprest the common-people of the skyes.
XXXI.
Ah wretch! what bootes thee to cast back thy eyes,
Where dawning hope no beame of comfort showes?
While the reflection of thy forepast joyes,
Renders thee double to thy present woes:
Rather make up to thy new miseries,
And meet the mischiefe that upon thee growes.
If Hell must mourne, Heav'n sure shall sympathize,
What force cannot effect, fraud shall devise.
XXXII.
And yet whose force feare I? have I so lost
My selfe? my strength too with my innocence?
Come try who dares, Heav'n, Earth, what ere doth boast
A borrowed being, make thy bold defence.
Come thy Creator too: What though it cost
Me yet a second fall? wee'd try our strengths:
Heav'n saw us struggle once; as brave a fight
Earth now should see, and tremble at the sight.
XXXIII.
Thus spoke th' impatient prince, and made a pause:
His foule hags rais'd their heads, and clapt their hands,
And all the powers of Hell in full applause
Flourisht their snakes, and tost their flaming brands.
We (said the horrid sisters) wait thy lawes,
Th' obsequious handmaids of thy high commands:
Be it thy part, Hell's mighty lord, to lay
On us thy dread command, our's to obey.
XXXIV.
What thy Alecto, what these hands can doe,
Thou mad'st bold proofe upon the brow of Heav'n,
Nor should'st thou bate in pride, because that now
To these thy sooty kingdomes thou art driven.
Let Heav'n's Lord chide above lowder than thou
In language of His thunder, thou art even
With Him below: here thou art lord alone,
Boundlesse and absolute: Hell is thine owne.
XXXV.
If usuall wit, and strength will doe no good,
Vertues of stones, nor herbes: use stronger charmes,
Anger and love, best hookes of humane blood.
If all faile, wee'l put on our proudest armes,
And pouring on Heav'n's face the Sea's huge flood
Quench His curl'd fires: wee'l wake with our alarmes
Ruine, where e're she sleepes at Nature's feet:
And crush the World till His wide corners meet.
XXXVI.
Reply'd the proud king, O my crowne's defence,
Stay of my strong hopes, you of whose brave worth,
The frighted stars tooke faint experience,
When 'gainst the Thunder's mouth we marched forth:
Still you are prodigall of your Love's expence
In our great projects, both 'gainst Heav'n and Earth:
I thanke you all, but one must single out:
Cruelty, she alone shall cure my doubt.
XXXVII.
Fourth of the cursed knot of hags is shee,
Or rather all the other three in one;
Hell's shop of slaughter shee do's oversee,
And still assist the execution.
But chiefly there do's she delight to be,
Where Hell's capacious cauldron is set on:
And while the black soules boile in their own gore,
To hold them down, and looke that none seeth o're.
XXXVIII.
Thrice howl'd the caves of Night, and thrice the sound,
Thundring upon the bankes of those black lakes,
Rung through the hollow vaults of Hell profound:
At last her listning eares the noise o're takes,
She lifts her sooty lampes, and looking round,
A gen'rall hisse from the whole tire of snakes
Rebounding, through Hell's inmost cavernes came,
In answer to her formidable name.
XXXIX.
'Mongst all the palaces in Hell's command,
No one so mercilesse as this of her's.
The adamantine doors, for ever stand
Impenetrable, both to prai'rs and teares;
The walls inexorable steele, no hand
Of Time, or teeth of hungry Ruine feares.
Their ugly ornaments are the bloody staines
Of ragged limbs, torne sculls, and dasht-out braines.
XL.
There has the purple Vengeance a proud seat
Whose ever-brandisht sword is sheath'd in blood:
About her Hate, Wrath, Warre and Slaughter sweat;
Bathing their hot limbs in life's pretious flood:
There rude impetuous Rage do's storme and fret,
And there as master of this murd'ring brood,
Swinging a huge sith stands impartiall Death: _scythe_
With endlesse businesse almost out of breath.
XLI.
For hangings and for curtaines, all along
The walls (abominable ornaments!)
Are tooles of wrath, anvills of torments hung;
Fell executioners of foule intents,
Nailes, hammers, hatchets sharpe, and halters strong,
Swords, speares, with all the fatall instruments
Of Sin and Death, twice dipt in the dire staines
Of brothers' mutuall blood, and fathers' braines.
XLII.
The tables furnisht with a cursed feast
Which Harpyes, with leane Famine feed upon,
Vnfill'd for ever. Here among the rest,
Inhumane Erisicthon too makes one;
Tantalus, Atreus, Progne, here are guests:
Wolvish Lycaon here a place hath won.
The cup they drinke in is Medusa's scull,
Which mixt with gall and blood they quaffe brim-full.
XLIII.
The foule queen's most abhorred maids of honour,
Medaea, Jezabell, many a meager witch,
With Circe, Scylla, stand to wait upon her:
But her best huswife's are the Parcae, which
Still worke for her, and have their wages from her:
They prick a bleeding heart at every stitch.
Her cruell cloathes of costly threds they weave,
Which short-cut lives of murdred infants leave.
XLIV.
The house is hers'd about with a black wood, _hearsed_
Which nods with many a heavy-headed tree:
Each flowers a pregnant poyson, try'd and good,
Each herbe a plague. The wind's sighes timed bee
By a black fount, which weeps into a flood.
Through the thick shades obscurely might you see
Minotaures, Cyclopses, with a darke drove
Of Dragons, Hydraes, Sphinxes, fill the grove.
XLV.
Here Diomed's horses, Phereus' dogs appeare,
With the fierce lyons of Therodamas.
Busiris has his bloody altar here:
Here Sylla his severest prison has:
The Lestrigonians here their table reare:
Here strong Procrustes plants his bed of brasse:
Here cruell Scyron boasts his bloody rockes
And hatefull Schinis his so feared oakes.
XLVI.
What ever schemes of blood, fantastick Frames
Of death, Mezentius or Geryon drew;
Phalaris, Ochus, Ezelinus: names
Mighty in mischiefe; with dread Nero too;
Here are they all, here all the swords or flames
Assyrian tyrants or Egyptian knew.
Such was the house, so furnisht was the hall,
Whence the fourth Fury answer'd Pluto's call.
XLVII.
Scarce to this monster could the shady king
The horrid summe of his intentions tell;
But shee (swift as the momentary wing
Of lightning, or the words he spoke) left Hell.
She rose, and with her to our World did bring
Pale proofe of her fell presence; th' aire too well
With a chang'd countenance witnest the sight,
And poore fowles intercepted in their flight.
XLVIII.
Heav'n saw her rise, and saw Hell in the sight:
The fields' faire eyes saw her, and saw no more,
But shut their flowry lids for ever: Night
And Winter strow her way: yea, such a sore
Is she to Nature, that a generall fright,
An universal palsie spreading o're
The face of things, from her dire eyes had run,
Had not her thick snakes hid them from the sun.
XLIX.
Now had the Night's companion from her dew,
Where all the busie day she close doth ly,
With her soft wing wipt from the browes of men
Day's sweat; and by a gentle tyranny
And sweet oppression, kindly cheating them
Of all their cares, tam'd the rebellious eye
Of Sorrow, with a soft and downy hand,
Sealing all brests in a Lethaean band.
L.
When the Erinnys her black pineons spread,
And came to Bethlem, where the cruell king
Had now retyr'd himselfe, and borrowed
His brest a while from Care's unquiet sting;
Such as at Thebes' dire feast she shew'd her head,
Her sulphur-breathed torches brandishing:
Such to the frighted palace now she comes,
And with soft feet searches the silent roomes.
LI.
By Herod___________________now was borne
The scepter, which of old great David swaid;
Whose right by David's linage so long worne, _lineage_
Himselfe a stranger to, his owne had made;
And from the head of Judah's house quite torne
The crowne, for which upon their necks he laid
A sad yoake, under which they sigh'd in vaine,
And looking on their lost state sigh'd againe.
LII.
Vp, through the spatious pallace passed she,
To where the king's proudly-reposed head
(If any can be soft to Tyranny
And selfe-tormenting sin) had a soft bed.
She thinkes not fit, such, he her face should see,
As it is seene in Hell, and seen with dread.
To change her face's stile she doth devise,
And in a pale ghost's shape to spare his eyes.
LIII.
Her selfe a while she layes aside, and makes
Ready to personate a mortall part.
Ioseph, the king's dead brother's shape, she takes:
What he by nature was, is she by art.
She comes to th' king, and with her cold hand slakes
His spirits (the sparkes of life) and chills his heart,
Life's forge; fain'd is her voice, and false too, be
Her words: 'sleep'st thou, fond man? sleep'st thou?' said she.
LIV.
So sleeps a pilot, whose poore barke is prest
With many a mercylesse o're-mastring wave;
For whom (as dead) the wrathfull winds contest
Which of them deep'st shall digge her watry grave.
Why dost thou let thy brave soule lye supprest
In death-like slumbers, while thy dangers crave
A waking eye and hand? looke vp and see
The Fates ripe, in their great conspiracy.
LV.
Know'st thou not how of th' Hebrewes' royall stemme
(That old dry stocke) a despair'd branch is sprung:
A most strange Babe! Who here conceal'd by them
In a neglected stable lies, among
Beasts and base straw: Already is the streame
Quite turn'd: th' ingratefull rebells, this their young
Master (with voyce free as the trumpe of Fame)
Their new King, and thy Successour proclame.
LVI.
What busy motions, what wild engines stand
On tiptoe in their giddy braynes! th' have fire
Already in their bosomes, and their hand
Already reaches at a sword; they hire
Poysons to speed thee; yet through all the Land
What one comes to reveale what they conspire?
Goe now, make much of these; wage still their wars
And bring home on thy brest, more thanklesse scarrs.
LVII.
Why did I spend my life, and spill my blood,
That thy firme hand for ever might sustaine
A well-pois'd scepter? does it now seeme good
Thy brother's blood be spilt, life spent in vaine?
'Gainst thy owne sons and brothers thou hast stood
In armes, when lesser cause was to complaine:
And now crosse Fates a watch about thee keepe,
Can'st thou be carelesse now? now can'st thou sleep?
LVIII.
Where art thou man? what cowardly mistake
Of thy great selfe, hath stolne king Herod from thee?
O call thy selfe home to thy self, wake, wake,
And fence the hanging sword Heav'n throws upon thee.
Redeeme a worthy wrath, rouse thee, and shake
Thy selfe into a shape that may become thee.
Be Herod, and thou shalt not misse from mee
Immortall stings to thy great thoughts, and thee.
LIX.
So said, her richest snake, which to her wrist
For a beseeming bracelet she had ty'd
(A speciall worme it was as ever kist
The foamy lips of Cerberus) she apply'd
To the king's heart: the snake no sooner hist,
But Vertue heard it, and away she hy'd:
Dire flames diffuse themselves through every veine:
This done, home to her Hell she hy'd amaine.
LX.
He wakes, and with him (ne're to sleepe) new feares:
His sweat-bedewed bed hath now betraid him
To a vast field of thornes; ten thousand speares
All pointed in his heart seem'd to invade him:
So mighty were th' amazing characters
With which his feeling dreame had thus dismay'd him,
He his owne fancy-framed foes defies:
In rage, My armes, give me my armes, he cryes.
LXI.
As when a pile of food-preparing fire,
The breath of artificiall lungs embraves,
The caldron-prison'd waters streight conspire
And beat the hot brasse with rebellious waves;
He murmurs, and rebukes their bold desire;
Th' impatient liquor frets, and foames, and raves,
Till his o're-flowing pride suppresse the flame
Whence all his high spirits and hot courage came.
LXII.
So boyles the fired Herod's blood-swolne brest,
Not to be slak't but by a sea of blood:
His faithlesse crowne he feeles loose on his crest,
Which a false tyrant's head ne're firmely stood.
The worme of jealous envy and unrest
To which his gnaw'd heart is the growing food,
Makes him, impatient of the lingring light,
Hate the sweet peace of all-composing Night.
LXIII.
A thousand prophecies that talke strange things
Had sowne of old these doubts in his deepe brest.
And now of late came tributary kings,
Bringing him nothing but new feares from th' East,
More deepe suspicions, and more deadly stings,
With which his feav'rous cares their cold increast.
And now his dream (Hel's fireband) still more bright,
Shew'd him his feares, and kill'd him with the sight.
LXIV.
No sooner therefore shall the Morning see
(Night hangs yet heavy on the lids of Day)
But all the counsellours must summon'd bee,
To meet their troubled lord: without delay
Heralds and messengers immediately
Are sent about, who poasting every way
To th' heads and officers of every band,
Declare who sends, and what is his command.
LXV.
Why art thou troubled, Herod? what vaine feare
Thy blood-revolving brest to rage doth move?
Heaven's King, Who doffs Himselfe weak flesh to weare,
Comes not to rule in wrath, but serve in love.
Nor would He this thy fear'd crown from thee teare,
But give thee a better with Himselfe above.
Poor jealousie! why should He wish to prey
Vpon thy crowne, Who gives His owne away?
LXVI.
Make to thy reason, man, and mock thy doubts,
Looke how below thy feares their causes are;
Thou art a souldier, Herod; send thy scouts,
See how Hee's furnish't for so fear'd a warre?
What armour does He weare? A few thin clouts.
His trumpets? tender cries; His men to dare
So much? rude shepheards: what His steeds? alas
Poore beasts! a slow oxe and a simple asse.
_Il fine del primo Libro._
NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS.
See our Essay for critical remarks on the original and CRASHAW'S
interpretation. These things may be recorded:
St. viii. line 6. '(His shop of flames) he _fries_ himself.' This verb
'fries,' like 'stick' and some others, had not in Elizabethan times and
later, that colloquial, and therefore in such a context ludicrous, sound
that it has to us. In MARLOWE'S or JONSON'S translation of Ovid's
fifteenth elegy (book i.) the two lines which originally ran thus,
'Lofty Lucretius shall live that hour
That Nature shall dissolve this earthly bower,'
were afterwards altered by JONSON himself to,
'Then shall Lucretius' lofty numbers die,
When earth and seas in fire and flame shall _frie_.'
In another way one of our most ludicrous-serious experiences of
printers' errors was in a paper contributed by us to an American
religious periodical. The subject was Affliction, and we remarked that
God still, as of old with the 'three children' (so-called) permits His
people to be put into the furnace of 'fiery trials,' wherein He _tries_
them whether they be ore or dross. To our horror we found the _t_
changed into _f_, and so read sensationally '_fries_'--all the worse
that some might think it the author's own word.
St. xxviii. and xxx. The star Lucifer or Phosporos, to whom 'the droves
of stars that guild the morn, in charge were given,' can never climb
the North or reach the zenith, being conquered by the effulgence of the
sun of day. When did the fable of the angel Lucifer, founded on an
astronomical appearance, mingle itself as it has done here, and grandly
in MILTON, and in the popular mind generally, with the biblical history
of Satan?
St. xxxvi. line 2. TURNBULL perpetuates the misprint of 'whose' for 'my'
from 1670.
St. li. line 3, 'linage' = 'lineage.' For once 1670 is correct in
reading 'linage' for the misprint 'image' of 1646 and 1648. The original
is literally as follows:
'Herod the liege of Augustus, a man now aged,
Then ruled over the royal courts of David:
Not of the royal _line_ ...'
St. lix. line 3, 'a special worm:' so SHAKESPEARE (Ant. and Cleopatra,
v. 2), 'the pretty worm' and 'the worm.'
St. lx. Every one will be reminded of the tent-scene in Richard III.
At end of this translation PEREGRINE PHILLIPS adds 'cetera desunt--heu!
heu!'
MARINO and CRASHAW have left proper names in the poem unannotated. They
are mostly trite; but these may be noticed: st. xlii. l. 4, Erisichton
(see Ovid, _Met._ viii. 814 &c.); he offended Ceres, and was by her
punished with continual hunger, so that he devoured his own limbs: line
5, Tantalus the fabled son of Zeus and Pluto, whose doom in the 'lower
world,' has been celebrated from Homer (_Od._ xi. 582) onward: ib.
Atreus, grandson of Tantalus, immortalised in infamy with his brother
Thyestes: ib. Progne = Procne, wife of Tereus, who was metamorphosed
into a swallow (Apollod. iii. 14, 8): l. 6, Lycaon, like Tantalus, with
his sons changed by Zeus into wolves (Ovid; Paus. viii. 3, Sec. 1): st.
xliii. line 2, Medea, most famous of the mythical sorcerers: ib.
Jezebel, 2 Kings ix. 10, 36: line 3, Circe, another mythical sorceress:
Scylla, daughter of Typho and rival of Circe, who transformed her (Ovid,
_Met._ xiv. 1-74); cf. Paradise Lost: line 4, the Parae = the Fates, ever
spinning: st. xliv. lines 7-8, all classic monsters: st. xlv. line 1,
'Diomed's horses' = the fabled 'mares' fed on human flesh (Apollod. ii.
5, Sec. 8): 'Phereus' dogs,' or Fereus of mythical celebrity: line 2,
Therodamas or Theromedon, king of Scythia, who fed lions with human
blood (Ovid, _Ibis_ 385, _Pont._ i. 2, 121): line 3, Busiris, associated
with Osiris of Egypt; but Herodotus denies that the Egyptians ever
offered human s
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