Men made of Tartar, and of villanies:
Aspire th’extraction, and the quintessence
Of all the ioyes in earths circumference:
With ghosts, fiends, monsters: as men robd and rackt,
Murtherd in life: from shades with shadowes blackt:
Thunder your wrongs, your miseries and hells,
And with the dismall accents of your knells,
Reuiue the dead, and make the liuing dye
In ruth, and terror of your torturie:
Still all the powre of Art into your grones,
Scorning your triuiall and remissiue mones,
Compact of fiction, and hyperboles,
(Like wanton mourners, cloyd with too much ease)
Should leaue the glasses of the hearers eyes
Vnbroken, counting all but vanities.
But paint, or else create in serious truth,
A bodie figur’d to your vertues ruth,
That to the sence may shew what damned sinne,
For your extreames this Chaos tumbles in.
But we is wretched me, without a name:
Vertue feeds scorne, and noblest honor, shame:
Pride bathes in teares of poore submission,
And makes his soule, the purple he puts on.
Kneele then with me, fall worm-like on the ground,
And from th’infectious dunghill of this Round,
From mens brasse wits, and golden foolerie,
Weepe, weepe your soules, into felicitie:
Come to this house of mourning, serue the night,
To whom pale day (with whoredome soked quite)
Is but a drudge, selling her beauties vse
To rapes, adultries, and to all abuse.
Her labors feast imperiall Night with sports,
Where Loues are Christmast, with all pleasures sorts:
And whom her fugitiue, and far-shot rayes
Disioyne, and driue into ten thousand wayes,
Nights glorious mantle wraps in safe abodes,
And frees their neckes from seruile labors lodes:
Her trustie shadowes, succour men dismayd,
Whom Dayes deceiptfull malice hath betrayd:
From the silke vapors of her Iueryport,
Sweet Protean dreames she sends of euery sort:
Some taking formes of Princes, to perswade
Of men deiect, we are their equals made,
Some clad in habit of deceased friends,
For whom we mournd, and now haue wisht amends,
And some (deare fauour) Lady-like attyrd,
With pride of Beauties full Meridian fir’d:
Who pitie our contempts, reuiue our harts:
For wisest Ladies loue the inward parts.
If these be dreames, euen so are all things else,
That walke this round by heauenly sentinels:
But from Nights port of home she greets our eyes
With grauer dreames inspir’d with prophesies,
Which oft presage to vs succeeding chances,
We proouing that awake, they shew in trances.
If these seeme likewise vaine, or nothing are
Vaine things, or nothing come to vertues share:
For nothing more then dreames, with vs shee findes:
Then since all pleasures vanish like the windes,
And that most serious actions not respecting
The second light, are worth but the neglecting,
Since day, or light, in anie qualitie,
For earthly vses do but serue the eye.
And since the eyes most quicke and dangerous vse,
Enflames the heart, and learnes the soule abuse,
Since mournings are preferd to banquettings,
And they reach heauen, bred vnder sorrowes wings.
Since Night brings terror to our frailties still,
And shamelesse Day, doth marble vs in ill.
All you possest with indepressed spirits,
Indu’d with nimble, and aspiring wits,
Come consecrate with me, to sacred Night
Your whole endeuours, and detest the light.
Sweete Peaces richest crowne is made of starres,
Most certaine guides of honord Marinars,
No pen can any thing eternall wright,
That is not steept in humor of the Night.
Hence beasts, and birds to caues and bushes then,
And welcome Night, ye noblest heires of men,
Hence Phebus to thy glassie strumpets bed,
And neuer more let Themis daughters spred,
Thy golden harnesse on thy rosie horse,
But in close thickets run thy oblique course.
See now ascends, the glorious Bride of Brides,
Nuptials, and triumphs, glittring by her sides,
Iuno and Hymen do her traine adorne,
Ten thousand torches round about them borne:
Dumbe Silence mounted on the Cyprian starre,
With becks, rebukes the winds before his carre,
Where she aduanst; beates downe with cloudie mace,
The feeble light to blacke Saturnius pallace:
Behind her, with a brase of siluer Hynds,
In Iuorie chariot, swifter then the winds,
Is great Hyperions horned daughter drawne
Enchantresse-like, deckt in disparent lawne,
Circkled with charmes, and incantations,
That ride huge spirits, and outragious passions:
Musicke, and moode, she loues, but loue she hates,
(As curious Ladies do, their publique cates)
This traine, with meteors, comets, lightenings,
The dreadfull presence of our Empresse sings:
Which grant for euer (ô eternall Night)
Till vertue flourish in the light of light.
Explicit Hymnus.
HYMNVS IN CYNTHIAM.
NATURES bright eye-sight, and the Nights faire soûle,
That with thy triple forehead dost controule
Earth, seas, and hell: and art in dignitie
The greatest, and swiftest Planet in the skie:
Peacefull, and warlike, and the powre of fate,
In perfect circle of whose sacred state,
The circles of our hopes are compassed:
All wisedome, beautie, maiestie and dread,
Wrought in the speaking pourtrait of thy face:
Great Cynthia, rise out of thy Latmian pallace,
Wash thy bright bodie, in th’Atlanticke streames,
Put on those robes that are most rich in beames:
And in thy All-ill-purging puritie,
(As if the shadie Cytheron did frie
In sightfull furie of a solemne fire)
Ascend thy chariot, and make earth admire
Thy old swift changes, made a yong fixt prime,
O let thy beautie scorch the wings of time,
That fluttering he may fall before thine eyes,
And beate him selfe to death before he rise.
And as heauens Geniall parts were cut away
By Saturnes hands, with adamantine Harpey,
Onely to shew, that since it was composd
Of vniuersall matter: it enclosd
No powre to procreate another heauen:
So since that adamantine powre is giuen
To thy chast hands, to cut of all desire
Of fleshly sports, and quench to Cupids fire:
Let it approue: no change shall take thee hence,
Nor thy throne beare another inference.
For if the enuious forehead of the earth
Lowre on thy age, and claime thee as her birth:
Tapers, nor torches, nor the forrests burning,
Soule-winging musicke, nor teare-stilling mourning,
(Vsd of old Romanes and rude Macedons
In thy most sad, and blacke discessions)
We know can nothing further thy recall,
When Nights darke robes
(whose obiects blind vs all)
Shall celebrate thy changes funerall.
But as in that thrise dreadfull foughten field
Of ruthlesse Cannae, when sweet Rule did yeeld,
Her beauties strongest proofs, and hugest loue:
When men as many as the lamps aboue,
Armd Earth in steele, and made her like the skies,
That two Auroraes did in one day rise;
Then with the terror of the trumpets call,
The battels ioynd as if the world did fall:
Continewd long in life-disdaining fight,
loues thundring Eagles featherd like the night,
Hou’ring aboue them with indifferent wings,
Till Bloods sterne daughter, cruell Tyche flings
The chiefe of one side, to the blushing ground,
And then his men (whom griefs, and feares confound)
Turnd all their cheerfull hopes to grimme despaire,
Some casting of their soûles into the aire,
Some taken prisners, some extreamely maimd,
And all (as men accurst) on fate exclaimd;
So (gracious Cynthia) in that sable day,
When interposed earth takes thee away,
(Our sacred chiefe and soueraigne generall,)
As chrimsine a retrait, and steepe a fall
We feare to suffer from this peace, and height,
Whose thancklesse sweet now cloies vs with receipt.
The Romanes set sweet Musicke to her charmes,
To raise thy stoopings, with her ayrie armes:
Vsde loud resoundings with auspicious brasse:
Held torches vp to heauen, and flaming glasse,
Made a whole forrest but a burning eye,
T’admire thy mournefull partings with the skye.
The Macedonians were so stricken dead,
With skillesse horrour of thy changes dread:
They wanted harts, to lift vp sounds, or fires,
Or eyes to heauen; but vsd their funerall tyres,
Trembld, and wept; assur’d some mischiefs furie
Would follow that afflicting Augurie.
Nor shall our wisedomes be more arrogant
(O sacred Cynthia) but beleeue thy want
Hath cause to make vs now as much affraid:
Nor shall Démocrates who first is said,
To reade in natures browes, thy chaunges cause,
Perswade our sorrowes to a vaine applause.
Times motion, being like the reeling sunnes,
Or as the sea reciprocallie runnes,
Hath brought vs now to their opinions;
As in our garments, ancient fashions
Are newlie worne; and as sweet poesie
Will not be clad in her supremacie
With those straunge garments (Romes Hexameters)
As she is English: but in right prefers
Our natiue robes, put on with skilfull hands
(English heroicks) to those antick garlands,
Accounting it no meede but mockerie,
When her steepe browes alreadie prop the skie,
To put on startups, and yet let it fall.
No otherwise (O Queene celestiall)
Can we beleeue Ephesias state wilbe
But spoile with forreine grace, and change with thee
The purenesse of thy neuer-tainted life,
Scorning the subiect title of a wife,
Thy bodie not composed in thy birth,
Of such condensed matter as the earth,
Thy shunning faithlesse mens societie,
Betaking thee to hounds, and Archerie
To deserts, and inaccessible hills,
Abhorring pleasure in earths common ills,
Commit most willing rapes on all our harts:
And make vs tremble, lest thy soueraigne parts
(The whole preseruers of our happinesse)
Should yeeld to change, Eclips, or heauinesse.
And as thy changes happen by the site,
Neare, or farre distance, of thy fathers light,
Who (set in absolute remotion) reaues
Thy face of light, and thee all darkned leaues:
So for thy absence, to the shade of death
Our soules fly mourning, wingd with our breath.
Then set thy Christall, and Imperiall throne,
(Girt in thy chast, and neuer-loosing zone)
Gainst Europs Sunne directly opposit,
And giue him darknesse, that doth threat thy light.
O how accurst are they thy fauour scorne?
Diseases pine their flockes, tares spoile their corne:
Old men are blind of issue, and young wiues
Bring forth abortiue frute, that neuer thriues.
But then how blest are they thy fauour graces,
Peace in their hearts, and youth raignes in their faces:
Health strengths their bodies, to subdue the seas,
And dare the Sunne, like Thebane Hercules
To calme the furies, and to quench the fire:
As at thy altars, in thy Persicke Empire,
Thy holy women walkt with naked soles
Harmelesse, and confident, on burning coles:
The vertue-temperd mind, euer preserues,
Oyles, and expulsatorie Balme that serues
To quench lusts fire, in all things it annoints,
And steeles our feet to march on needles points:
And mongst her armes, hath armour to repell
The canon, and the firie darts of hell:
She is the great enchantresse that commands
Spirits of euery region, seas, and lands,
Round heauen it selfe, and all his seuen-fold heights,
Are bound to serue the strength of her conceipts:
A perfect type of thy Almightie state,
That holdst the thread, and rul’st the sword of fate.
Then you that exercise the virgine Court
Of peacefull Thespya, my muse consort,
Making her drunken with Gorgonean Dews,
And therewith, all your Extasies infuse,
That she may reach the top-lesse starrie brows
Of steepe Olympus, crownd with freshest bows
Of Daphnean Laurell, and the praises sing
Of mightie Cynthia: truely figuring,
(As she is Heccate) her soueraigne kinde,
And in her force, the forces of the mind:
An argument to rauish and refine
An earthly soule, and make it meere diuine.
Sing then withall, her Pallace brightnesse bright,
The dasle-sunne perfections of her light,
Circkling her face with glories, sing the walkes,
Where in her heauenly Magicke mood she stalkes,
Her arbours, thickets, and her wondrous game,
(A huntresse, being neuer matcht in fame).
Presume not then ye flesh confounded soules,
That cannot beare the full Castalian bowles,
Which seuer mounting spirits from the sences,
To looke in this deepe fount for thy pretenses:
The iuice more cleare then day, yet shadows night,
Where humor challengeth no drop of right:
But iudgement shall displaie, to purest eyes
With ease, the bowells of these misteries.
See then this Planet of our liues discended
To rich Ortigia, gloriouslie attended,
Not with her fiftie Ocean Nimphs: nor yet
Hir twentie forresters: but doth beget
By powrefull charmes, delightsome seruitors
Of flowrs, and shadows, mists, and meteors:
Her rare Elisian Pallace she did build
With studied wishes, which sweet hope did guild
With sunnie foyle, that lasted but a day:
For night must needs, importune her away.
The shapes of euerie wholesome flowre and tree
She gaue those types
of hir felicitie.
And Forme her selfe, she mightilie coniurd
Their priselesse values, might not be obscurd,
With disposition baser then diuine,
But make that blissfull court of hers to shine
With all accomplishment of Architect,
That not the eye of Phebus could detect.
Forme then, twixt two superior piliers framd
This tender building, Pax Imperij nam’d,
Which cast a shadow, like a Pyramis
Whose basis, in the plaine or back part is
Of that queint worke: the top so high extended,
That it the region of the Moone transcended:
Without, within it, euerie corner fild
By bewtious Forme, as her great mistresse wild.
Here as she sits, the thunder-louing loue
In honors past all others showes his loue,
Proclaiming her in compleat Emperie,
Of what soeuer the Olympick skie
With tender circumuecture doth embrace,
The chiefest Planet, that doth heauen enchace:
Deare Goddesse, prompt, benigne, and bounteous,
That heares all prayers, from the least of vs
Large riches giues, since she is largely giuen,
And all that spring from seede of earth and heauen
She doth commaund: and rules the fates of all,
Old Hesiod sings her thus celestiall:
And now to take the pleasures of the day,
Because her night starre soone will call away,
She frames of matter intimate before,
(To wit, a bright, and daseling meteor)
A goodlie Nimph, whose bewtie, bewtie staines
Heau’ns with her iewells; giues all the raines
Of wished pleasance; frames her golden wings,
But them she bindes vp close with purple strings,
Because she now will haue her run alone,
And bid the base, to all affection.
And Euthimya is her sacred name,
Since she the cares and toyles of earth must tame:
Then straight the flowrs, the shadowes and the mists,
(Fit matter for most pliant humorists)
She hunters makes: and of that substance hounds
Whose mouths deafe heauen, & furrow earth with wounds.
And maruaile not a Nimphe so rich in grace
To hounds rude pursutes should be giuen in chase:
For she could turne her selfe to euerie shape
Of swiftest beasts, and at her pleasure scape.
Wealth faunes on fooles; vertues are meate for vices,
Wisedome conformes her selfe to all earths guises,
Good gifts are often giuen to men past good,
And Noblesse stoops sometimes beneath his blood.
The hounds that she created, vast, and fleete
Were grimme Melampus, with th’Ethiops feete,
The Complete Poetical Works of George Chapman Page 3