Part 12

Hail, most high, most humble one! 1 Aboue the world, below thy Son; Whose blush the moon beauteously marres And staines the timerous light of stares. He that made all things, had not done 5 Till He had made Himself thy Son: The whole World's host would be thy guest And board Himself at thy rich brest. O boundles hospitality! The Feast of all things feeds on thee. 10 The first Eue, mother of our Fall, E're she bore any one, slew all. Of her vnkind gift might we haue Th' inheritance of a hasty grave: Quick-burye'd in the wanton tomb 15 Of one forbidden bitt; Had not a better frvit forbidden it. Had not thy healthfull womb The World's new eastern window bin, And giuen vs heau'n again, in giuing Him. 20 Thine was the rosy dawn, that spring the Day Which renders all the starres she stole away. Let then the agèd World be wise, and all Proue nobly here vnnaturall; 'Tis gratitude to forgett that other 25 And call the maiden Eue their mother. Yee redeem'd nations farr and near, Applaud your happy selues in her; (All you to whom this loue belongs) And keep't aliue with lasting songs. 30 Let hearts and lippes speak lowd; and say Hail, door of life: and sourse of Day! The door was shut, the fountain seal'd; Yet Light was seen and Life reueal'd. The door was shut, yet let in day, 35 The fountain seal'd, yet life found way. Glory to Thee, great virgin's Son In bosom of Thy Father's blisse. The same to Thee, sweet Spirit be done; As euer shall be, was, and is. Amen. 40

NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS.

The heading in 1648 is simply 'The Virgin-Mother:' in 1670 it is 'The Hymn, O Gloriosa Domina.'

Line 2, 1648 reads 'the Son.'

" 10, our text (1652) misprints 'the' for 'thee.'

Line 21, I follow here the text of 1648. 1652 reads

'Thine was the rosy dawn that sprung the day.'

and this is repeated in 1670 and, of course, by TURNBULL.

Line 26, 1648 has 'your' for 'their.'

" 35 is inadvertently dropped in our text (1652), though the succeeding line (with which it rhymes) appears. I restore it. 1670 also drops it; and so again TURNBULL!

Lines 43-44, 'Because some foolish fly.' This metaphorical allusion to the Fall and its results (as described by MILTON and others) is founded on the dying of various insects after begetting their kind. G.

HOPE.[57]

Hope, whose weak beeing ruin'd is 1 Alike if it succeed or if it misse! Whom ill and good doth equally confound, And both the hornes of Fate's dilemma wound. Vain shadow; that dost vanish quite 5 Both at full noon and perfect night! The starres haue not a possibility Of blessing thee. If thinges then from their end we happy call, 'Tis Hope is the most hopelesse thing of all. 10

Hope, thou bold taster of delight! Who in stead of doing so, deuourst it quite. Thou bringst vs an estate, yet leau'st vs poor By clogging it with legacyes before. The ioyes which we intire should wed 15 Come deflour'd-virgins to our bed. Good fortunes without gain imported be Such mighty custom's paid to thee For ioy, like wine kep't close, doth better tast; If it take air before, his spirits wast. 20

Hope, Fortun's cheating lottery, Where for one prize, an hundred blankes there be. Fond anchor, Hope! who tak'st thine aime so farr That still or short or wide thine arrows are; Thinne empty cloud which th' ey deceiues 25 With shapes that our own fancy giues. A cloud which gilt and painted now appeares But must drop presently in teares: When thy false beames o're reason's light preuail, By _ignes fatvi_ for North starres we sail. 30

Brother of Fear, more gaily clad, The merryer fool o' th' two, yet quite as mad. Sire of Repentance, child of fond desire That blow'st the chymick's and the louer's fire. Still leading them insensibly on 35 With the strong witchcraft of 'anon.' By thee the one does changing nature, through Her endlesse labyrinths pursue; And th' other chases woman; while she goes More wayes and turnes then hunted Nature knowes. 40

M. COWLEY.

NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS.

In all the editions save that of 1652 the respective portions of COWLEY and CRASHAW are alternated as Question and Answer, after a fashion of the day exemplified by _Pembroke_ and RUDYARD and others. The heading in 1646, 1648 and 1670 accordingly is 'On Hope, by way of Question and Answer, between A. COWLEY and R. CRASHAW.'

_Various readings from 1646 edition._

Line 3, 'and' for 'or,' and 'doth' for 'does.'

" 7, 'Fates' for 'starres:' but as Fate occurs in line 4, 'starres' seems preferable.

Line 9, 'ends' for 'end.'

" 18, 'so' for 'such.'

" 19, 'doth' for 'does;' adopted.

" 20, 'its' for 'his;' the personification warrants 'his.'

" 25. All the other editions misread

'Thine empty cloud, the eye it selfe deceives.'

There can be no question that 'thinne' not 'thine' was the poet's word. Cf. CRASHAW'S reference in his Answer. TURNBULL perpetuates the error.

Line 30, 'not' for 'for.'

" 33, 'shield' in all the editions save 1652 by mistake.

" 34, 'blows' and 'chymicks' for 'chymick;' the latter adopted.

Line 37, as in line 19.

" 38, spelled 'laborinths.'

In our Essay see critical remarks showing that COWLEY and CRASHAW revised their respective portions. It seems to have escaped notice that COWLEY himself wrote another poem '_For_ Hope,' as his former was '_Against_ Hope.' See it in our Study of Crashaw's Life and Poetry. G.

M. CRASHAW'S ANSWER FOR HOPE.[58]

Dear Hope! Earth's dowry, and Heaun's debt! 1 The entity of things that are not yet. Subtlest, but surest beeing! thou by whom Our nothing has a definition! Substantiall shade! whose sweet allay 5 Blends both the noones of Night and Day: Fates cannot find out a capacity Of hurting thee. From thee their lean dilemma, with blunt horn, Shrinkes, as the sick moon from the wholsome morn. 10

Rich hope! Loue's legacy, vnder lock Of Faith! still spending, and still growing stock! Our crown-land lyes aboue, yet each meal brings A seemly portion for the sonnes of kings. Nor will the virgin ioyes we wed 15 Come lesse vnbroken to our bed, Because that from the bridall cheek of Blisse Thou steal'st vs down a distant kisse. Hope's chast stealth harmes no more Ioye's maidenhead Then spousal rites preiudge the marriage bed. 20 Fair hope! Our earlyer Heau'n! by thee Young Time is taster to Eternity: Thy generous wine with age growes strong, not sowre, Nor does it kill thy fruit, to smell thy flowre. Thy golden, growing head neuer hangs down 25 Till in the lappe of Loue's full noone It falls; and dyes! O no, it melts away As doth the dawn into the Day: As lumpes of sugar loose themselues, and twine Their subtile essence with the soul of wine. 30

Fortune? alas, aboue the World's low warres Hope walks; and kickes the curld heads of conspiring starres. Her keel cutts not the waues where these winds stirr, Fortune's whole lottery is one blank to her. Her shafts and shee, fly farre above, 35 And forage in the fields of light and love. Sweet Hope! kind cheat! fair fallacy! by thee We are not where nor what we be, But what and where we would be. Thus art thou Our absent presence, and our future now. 40

Faith's sister! nurse of fair desire! Fear's antidote! a wise and well-stay'd fire! Temper 'twixt chill Despair, and torrid Ioy! Queen regent in yonge Loue's minority! Though the vext chymick vainly chases 45 His fugitiue gold through all her faces; Though Loue's more feirce, more fruitlesse, fires assay: One face more fugitiue then all they; True Hope's a glorious huntresse, and her chase, The God of Nature in the feilds of grace. 50

NOTES.

_Various readings from 1646 edition._

Line 2, 'things' for 'those;' adopted. But in HARLEIAN MS. 6917-18, it is 'those.' As this MS. supplies in poems onward various excellent readings (_e.g._ 'Wishes'), it may be noted that the Collection came from Lord Somers' Library of MSS., and is accordingly authoritative.

Lines 5-6 read

'Faire cloud of fire, both shade and light Our life in death, our day in night.'

Our text (1652) seems finer and deeper, and to put the thought with more concinnity.

Line 9, 'thinne' for 'lean.'

" 10, 'like' for 'as.'

" 11, 'Rich hope' dropped in all the other editions; but as it is parallel with the 'dear Hope' and 'fair Hope' of the preceding and succeeding stanzas, I have restored the words. The line reads elsewhere,

'Thou art Love's Legacie under lock'

and the next,

'Of Faith: the steward of our growing stock.'

Line 13, 'crown-lands lye.'

" 18, 'Thou thus steal'st downe a distant kisse.'

" 19, 'Hope's chaste kisse wrongs.'...

" 24, 'Nor need wee.'...

" 25, 'growing' is dropped.

" 28, 'doth' for 'does;' adopted.

" 30, 'subtile' for 'supple;' adopted: but in HARLEIAN MS. as before, it is 'supple.'

Lines 31-32. This couplet is oddly misprinted in all the other editions,

'Fortune, alas, above the world's law warres, Hope kicks the curld'....

In 1670 there is a capital L to Law: but 'low' yields the evident meaning intended. Alas is = exclamation simply, not in our present limitation of it to sorrow. See Epitaph of HERRYS onward, lines 49-52.

Line 33, 'our' for 'these;' the latter necessary in its relation to 'low' not 'law,' the 'winds' being those of the 'warres' of our world.

Line 34, 'And Fate's' for 'Fortune's.'

" 35-36 dropped by our text (1652) inadvertently.

" 36, 'or' for 'nor.'

" 45, 'And' for 'Though.'

" 47, 'huntresse' for 'hunter;' adopted.

" 48, 'field' for 'fields.'

" 49. I prefer 'huntresse' of 1646, 1648 and 1670, to 'hunter' of our text (1652). G.

=Sacred Poetry.=

II.

AIRELLES.

FROM UNPUBLISHED MSS.

NOTE.

See our Preface for explanation of the title. 'Airelles' to these and other hitherto unprinted and unpublished Poems from the TANNER MSS. of Archbishop Sancroft: and our Essay for the biographic interest of the poems on the Gunpowder-Plot. I adhere strictly throughout to the orthography of the MS. G.

MARY SEEKING JESUS WHEN LOST.

St. Luke ii. 41-52: _Quærit Jesum suum Maria_, &c. (v. 44.)

And is He gone, Whom these armes held but now? Their hope, their vow! Did euer greife and joy in one poore heart Soe soone change part? Hee's gone! The fair'st flower that e're bosome drest; My soule's sweet rest. My wombe's chast pride is gone, my heauen-borne boy; And where is joy? Hee's gone! and His lou'd steppes to wait vpon, My joy, is gone. My joyes, and Hee are gone; my greife, and I Alone must ly. Hee's gone! not leaving with me, till He come, One smile at home. Oh come then, bring Thy mother her lost joy: Oh come, sweet boy! Make hast, and come, or e're my greife and I Make hast, and dy. Peace, heart! The heauens are angry, all their spheres Rivall thy teares. I was mistaken, some faire sphere or other Was Thy blest mother. What but the fairest heauen, could owne the birth Of soe faire earth? Yet sure Thou did'st lodge heere: this wombe of mine Was once call'd Thine! Oft haue these armes Thy cradle envied, Beguil'd Thy bed. Oft to Thy easy eares hath this shrill tongue Trembled, and sung. Oft haue I wrapt Thy slumbers in soft aires, And stroak't Thy cares. Oft hath this hand those silken casements kept, While their sunnes slept. Oft haue my hungry kisses made Thine eyes Too early rise. Oft haue I spoild my kisses' daintiest diet, To spare Thy quiet. Oft from this breast to Thine, my loue-tost heart Hath leapt, to part. Oft my lost soule haue I bin glad to seeke On Thy soft cheeke. Oft haue these armes--alas!--show'd to these eyes Their now lost joyes. Dawne then to me, Thou morne of mine owne day, And lett heauen stay. Oh, would'st Thou heere still fixe Thy faire abode, My bosome God: What hinders, but my bosome still might be Thy heauen to Thee?

THE WOUNDS OF THE LORD JESUS.

IN CICATRICES DOMINI JESU.

Come braue soldjers, come and see Mighty Loue's artillery. This was the conquering dart; and loe There shines His quiuer, there His bow. These the passiue weapons are, That made great Loue, a man of warre. The quiver that He bore, did bide Soe neare, it prov'd His very side: In it there sate but one sole dart, A peircing one--His peirced heart. His weapons were nor steele, nor brasse, The weapon that He wore, He was. For bow His vnbent hand did serue, Well strung with many a broken nerue. Strange the quiver, bow and dart! A bloody side, and hand, and heart! But now the feild is wonne; and they (The dust of Warre cleane wip'd away) The weapons now of triumph be, That were before of Victorie.

ON YE GUNPOWDER-TREASON.[59]

I sing Impiety beyond a name: Who stiles it any thinge, knowes not the same. Dull, sluggish Ile! what more than lethargy Gripes thy cold limbes soe fast, thou canst not fly, And start from of[f] thy center? hath Heauen's loue Stuft thee soe full with blisse, thou can'st not moue? If soe, oh Neptune, may she farre be throwne By thy kind armes to a kind world vnknowne: Lett her surviue this day, once mock her fate, And shee's an island truely fortunate. Lett not my suppliant breath raise a rude storme To wrack my suite: O keepe Pitty warme In thy cold breast, and yearely on this day Mine eyes a tributary streame shall pay. Dos't thou not see an exhalation Belch'd from the sulph'ry lungs of Phlegeton? A living comet, whose pestiferous breath Adulterates the virgin aire? with death It laboures: stif'led Nature's in a swound, Ready to dropp into a chaos, round About horror's displai'd; It doth portend, That earth a shoure of stones to heauen shall send, And crack the christall globe; the milkly streame Shall in a siluer raine runne out, whose creame Shall choake the gaping earth, wch then shall fry In flames, & of a burning feuer dy. That wonders may in fashion be, not rare, A Winter's thunder with a groane shall scare, And rouze the sleepy ashes of the dead, Making them skip out of their dusty bed. Those twinckling eyes of heauen, wch eu'n now shin'd, Shall with one flash of lightning be struck blind. The sea shall change his youthfull greene, & slide Along the shore in a graue purple tide. It does præsage, that a great Prince shall climbe, And gett a starry throne before his time. To vsher in this shoale of prodigies, Thy infants, Æolus, will not suffice. Noe, noe, a giant wind, that will not spare To tosse poore men like dust into the aire; Justle downe mountaines: Kings courts shall be sent, Like bandied balles, into the firmament. Atlas shall be tript vpp, Ioue's gate shall feele The weighty rudenes of his boysterous heele. All this it threats, & more: Horror, that flies To th' empyræum of all miseries. Most tall hyperbole's cannot descry it; Mischeife, that scornes expression should come nigh it. All this it only threats: the meteor ly'd; It was exhal'd, a while it hung, & dy'd. Heauen kickt the monster downe: downe it was throwne, The fall of all things it præsag'd, its oune It quite forgott: the fearfull earth gaue way, And durst not touch it, heere it made noe stay. At last it stopt at Pluto's gloomy porch; He streightway lighted vpp his pitchy torch. Now to those toiling soules it giues its light, Wch had the happines to worke ith' night. They banne the blaze, & curse its curtesy, For lighting them vnto their misery. Till now Hell was imperfect; it did need Some rare choice torture; now 'tis Hell indeed. Then glutt thy dire lampe with the warmest blood, That runnes in violett pipes: none other food It can digest, then watch the wildfire well, Least it breake forth, & burne thy sooty cell.

UPON THE GUNPOWDER-TREASON.

Reach me a quill, pluckt from the flaming wing Of Pluto's Mercury, that I may sing Death to the life. My inke shall be the blood Of Cerberus, or Alecto's viperous brood. Vnmated malice! Oh vnpeer'd despight! Such as the sable pinions of the night Neuer durst hatch before: extracted see The very quintessence of villanie: I feare to name it; least that he, wch heares, Should haue his soule frighted beyond the spheres. Heauen was asham'd, to see our mother Earth Engender with the Night, & teeme a birth Soe foule, one minute's light had it but seene, The fresh face of the morne had blasted beene. Her rosy cheekes you should haue seene noe more Dy'd in vermilion blushes, as before: But in a vaile of clouds mufling her head A solitary life she would haue led. Affrighted Phoebus would haue lost his way, Giving his wanton palfreys leaue to play Olympick games in the' Olympian plaines, His trembling hands loosing the golden raines. The Queene of night gott the greene sicknes then, Sitting soe long at ease in her darke denne, Not daring to peepe forth, least that a stone Should beate her headlong from her jetty throne. Ioue's twinckling tapers, that doe light the world, Had beene puft out, and from their stations hurl'd: Æol kept in his wrangling sonnes, least they With this grand blast should haue bin blowne away. Amazèd Triton, with his shrill alarmes Bad sporting Neptune to pluck in his armes, And leaue embracing of the Isles, least hee Might be an actor in this Tragedy. Nor should wee need thy crispèd waues, for wee An Ocean could haue made t' haue drownèd thee. Torrents of salt teares from our eyes should runne, And raise a deluge, where the flaming sunne Should coole his fiery wheeles, & neuer sinke Soe low to giue his thirsty stallions drinke; Each soule in sighes had spent its dearest breath, As glad to waite vpon their King in death. Each wingèd chorister would swan-like sing A mournfull dirge to their deceasèd king. The painted meddowes would haue laught no more For ioye of their neate coates; but would haue tore Their shaggy locks, their flowry mantles turn'd Into dire sable weeds, & sate, & mourn'd. Each stone had streight a Niobe become, And wept amaine; then rear'd a costly tombe, T' entombe the lab'ring earth. For surely shee Had died just in her deliuery. But when Ioue's wingèd heralds this espied, Vpp to th' Almighty thunderer they hied, Relating this sad story. Streight way hee The monster crusht, maugre their midwiferie. And may such Pythons neuer liue to see The Light's faire face, but still abortiue bee.

UPON THE GUNPOWDER-TREASON.

Grow plumpe, leane Death; his Holinesse a feast Hath now præpar'd, & you maist be his guest. Come grimme Destruction, & in purple gore Dye seu'n times deeper than they were before Thy scarlet robes: for heere you must not share A common banquett: noe, heere's princely fare. And least thy blood-shott eyes should lead aside This masse of cruelty, to be thy guide Three coleblack sisters, (whose long sutty haire, And greisly visages doe fright the aire; When Night beheld them, shame did almost turne Her sable cheekes into a blushing morne, To see some fowler than herselfe) these stand, Each holding forth to light the aery brand, Whose purer flames tremble to be soe nigh, And in fell hatred burning, angry dy. Sly, lurking treason is his bosome freind, Whom faint, & palefac't Feare doth still attend. These need noe invitation, onely thou Black dismall Horror, come; make perfect now Th' epitome of Hell: oh lett thy pinions Be a gloomy canopy to Pluto's minions. In this infernall Majesty close shrowd Your selues, you Stygian states; a pitchy clowd Shall hang the roome, & for your tapers bright, Sulphureous flames, snatch'd from æternall night. But rest, affrighted Muse; thy siluer wings May not row neerer to these dusky rings.[60] Cast back some amorous glances on the cates, That heere are dressing by the hasty Fates, Nay stopp thy clowdy eyes, it is not good, To drowne thy selfe in this pure pearly flood. But since they are for fire-workes, rather proue A phenix, & in chastest flames of loue Offer thy selfe a virgin sacrifice To quench the rage of hellish deities. But dares Destruction eate these candid breasts, The Muses, & the Graces sugred neasts? Dares hungry Death snatch of one cherry lipp? Or thirsty Treason offer once to sippe One dropp of this pure nectar, wch doth flow In azure channells warme through mounts of snow? The roses fresh, conseruèd from the rage, And cruell ravishing of frosty age, Feare is afraid to tast of: only this, He humbly crau'd to banquett on a kisse. Poore meagre horror streightwaies was amaz'd, And in the stead of feeding stood, & gaz'd. Their appetites were gone at th' uery sight; But yet theire eyes surfett with sweet delight. Only the Pope a stomack still could find; But yett they were not powder'd to his mind. Forth-with each god stept from his starry throne, And snatch'd away the banquett; euery one Convey'd his sweet delicious treasury To the close closet of æternity: Where they will safely keepe it, from the rude, And rugged touch of Pluto's multitude.

=Secular Poetry.=

I.

THE DELIGHTS OF THE MUSES

(1646).

NOTE.

For the title-page of 'The Delights of the Muses' see Note immediately before the original Preface, and our Preface on the classification of the several poems. G.

MUSICK'S DUELL.[61]