Part 2
But the only issues taken into account here, for textual purposes, are the three of 1647, 1651, and 1657, of which last a word needs to be said. (The edition of 1652 is an exact copy of 1651, therefore negligible in the preparation of this book.) The often-overlooked _Ayres and Dialogues_, Gamble's and Stanley's, appeared first privately, in 1656, then in 1657. The earlier issue is rare; it figures in the British Museum Music Catalogues, but not in those of the Bodleian Library. There is at Oxford, however, a copy of the later edition, and on this the present editor bases the readings common both to 1656 and 1657. As a general thing these readings of the Gamble Stanley are particularly satisfying, and besides having all the advantages in point of time, may have profited by the author's careful revision. John Gamble's music-book is devoted wholly to Stanley's poems. It has a notably affectionate and, as it happens, a not-much-too-obsequious Preface, in which Gamble well says that he felt it 'a bold Undertaking to compose words which are so pure Harmonie in themselves, into any other Musick'; yet that he longed to put it to the test, 'how neer a whole life spent in the study of Musical Compositions could imitate the flowing and naturall Graces which you have created by your Fancie.' Gamble wrote out no accompaniments to his sweet and spirited settings, nor did he leave Stanley's titles prefixed to the numbered songs, a good proportion of which are translations, though not indicated as such.
As to the present arrangement, for simplicity's sake, it is nothing if not frankly chronological. It is divided into six sections; the sixth contains those poems which must have appeared to Stanley to be his best, as they were included by him in every successive edition of his work. Form and method, therefore, are both, after a fashion, novel, but not without their good inherent justification, nor without fullest obedience of spirit to the author's individual genius and its posthumous dues. The spelling has been modernised, and particular pains have been taken with the punctuation. This reprint is a deferent attempt to set forth Thomas Stanley as a little latter-day classic, in his old rich singing-coat, made strong and whole by means of coloured strands of his own weaving.
L. I. G.
OXFORD, _August 31, 1905_.
The Editor's best acknowledgements are due to Mr. W. BAILEY KEMPLING, for his painstaking copy, from the 1651 edition of Stanley in the British Museum, of a large number of the poems collated in this book.
LYRICS: THOMAS STANLEY
I. LYRICS PRINTED ONLY IN THE EDITION OF 1647.
THE DREAM.
That I might ever dream thus! that some power To my eternal sleep would join this hour! So, willingly deceiv'd, I might possess In seeming joys a real happiness. Haste not away: O do not dissipate 5 A pleasure thou so lately didst create! Stay, welcome Sleep; be ever here confin'd: Or if thou wilt away, leave her behind.
DESPAIR.
No, no, poor blasted Hope! Since I (with thee) have lost the scope Of all my joys, I will no more Vainly implore The unrelenting Destinies: 5 He that can equally sustain The strong assaults of joy and pain, May safely laugh at their decrees.
Despair, to thee I bow, Whose constancy disdains t'allow 10 Those childish passions that destroy Our fickle joy; How cruel Fates so e'er appear, Their harmless anger I despise, And fix'd, can neither fall nor rise, 15 Thrown below hope, but rais'd 'bove fear.
THE PICTURE.
Thou that both feel'st and dost admire The flames shot from a painted fire, Know Celia's image thou dost see: Not to herself more like is she. He that should both together view 5 Would judge both pictures, or both true. But thus they differ: the best part Of Nature this is; that of Art.
OPINION.
Whence took the diamond worth? the borrow'd rays That crystal wears, whence had they first their praise? Why should rude feet contemn the snow's chaste white, Which from the sun receives a sparkling light, Brighter than diamonds far, and by its birth 5 Decks the green garment of the richer earth? Rivers than crystal clearer, when to ice Congeal'd, why do weak judgements so despise? Which, melting, show that to impartial sight Weeping than smiling crystal is more bright. 10 But Fancy those first priz'd, and these did scorn, Taking their praise the other to adorn. Thus blind is human sight: opinion gave To their esteem a birth, to theirs a grave; Nor can our judgements with these clouds dispense, 15 Since reason sees but with the eyes of sense.
II. LYRICS PRINTED ONLY IN THE EDITION OF 1651.
THE CURE.
_Nymph._
What busy cares, too timely born, Young swain! disturb thy sleep? Thy early sighs awake the morn, Thy tears teach her to weep.
_Shepherd._
Sorrows, fair nymph, are full alone, 5 Nor counsel can endure.
_Nymph._
Yet thine disclose; for, until known, Sickness admits no cure.
_Shepherd._
My griefs are such as but to hear Would poison all thy joys; 10 The pity which thou seem'st to bear My health, thine own destroys.
_Nymph._
How can diseased minds infect? Say what thy grief doth move!
_Shepherd._
Call up thy virtue to protect 15 Thy heart, and know--'twas love.
_Nymph._
Fond swain!
_Shepherd._
By which I have been long Destin'd to meet with hate.
_Nymph._
Fie! shepherd, fie! thou dost love wrong, To call thy crime thy fate. 20
_Shepherd._
Alas! what cunning could decline, What force can love repel?
_Nymph._
Yet there's a way to unconfine Thy heart.
_Shepherd._
For pity, tell.
_Nymph._
Choose one whose love may be assur'd 25 By thine: who ever knew Inveterate diseases cur'd But by receiving new?
_Shepherd._
All will, like her, my soul perplex.
_Nymph._
Yet try.
_Shepherd._
Oh, could there be 30 But any softness in that sex, I'd wish it were in thee!
_Nymph._
Thy prayer is heard: learn now t'esteem The kindness she hath shown, Who, thy lost freedom to redeem, 35 Hath forfeited her own.
TO THE COUNTESS OF S[UNDERLAND?] WITH THE HOLY COURT.[1:1]
Since every place you bless, the name This book assumes may justlier claim. (What more a court than where you shine? And where your soul, what more divine?) You may perhaps doubt at first sight 5 That it usurps upon your right; And praising virtues that belong To you, in others, doth you wrong. No, 'tis yourself you read, in all Perfections earlier ages call 10 Their own; all glories they e'er knew Were but faint prophecies of you. You then have here sole interest, whom 'tis meant As well to entertain, as represent.
DRAWN FOR VALENTINE BY THE L[ADY] D[OROTHY] S[PENCER?].[2:1]
Though 'gainst me Love and Destiny conspire, Though I must waste in an unpitied fire, By the same deity, severe as fair, Commanded adoration and despair; Though I am mark'd for sacrifice, to tell 5 The growing age what dangerous glories dwell In this bright dawn, who, when she spreads her rays, Will challenge every heart, and every praise; Yet she who to all hope forbids my claim, By Fortune's taught indulgence to my flame, 10 Great Queen of Chance! unjustly we exclude Thy power an interest in beatitude, Who with mysterious judgement dost dispense The bounties of unerring Providence; Whilst we, to whom the causes are unknown, 15 Would style that blindness thine, which is our own. As kind, in justice to thyself, as me, Thou hast redeem'd thy name and votary: Nor will I prize this less for being thine, Nor longer at my destiny repine. 20 Counsel and choice are things below thy state: Fortune relieves the cruelties of Fate.
III. LYRICS PRINTED ONLY IN THE EDITION OF 1657 [JOHN GAMBLE'S _AYRES AND DIALOGUES_] HAVING NO TITLES.
ON THIS SWELLING BANK.
On this swelling bank, once proud Of its burden, Doris lay: Here she smil'd, and did uncloud Those bright suns eclipse the day; Here we sat, and with kind art 5 She about me twin'd her arms, Clasp'd in hers my hand and heart, Fetter'd in those pleasing charms.
Here my love and joys she crown'd, Whilst the hours stood still before me, 10 With a killing glance did wound, And a melting kiss restore me. On the down of either breast, Whilst with joy my soul retir'd, My reclining head did rest, 15 Till her lips new life inspir'd.
Thus, renewing of these sights Doth with grief and pleasure fill me, And the thought of these delights Both at once revive and kill me! 20
DEAR, FOLD ME ONCE MORE.
Dear, fold me once more in thine arms! And let me know Before I go There is no bliss but in those charms. By thy fair self I swear 5 That here, and only here, I would for ever, ever stay: But cruel Fate calls me away.
How swiftly the light minutes slide! The hours that haste 10 Away thus fast By envious flight my stay do chide. Yet, Dear, since I must go, By this last kiss I vow, By all that sweetness which dwells with thee,[3:1] 15 Time shall move slow, till next I see thee.
THE LAZY HOURS.
The lazy hours move slow, The minutes stay; Old Time with leaden feet doth go, And his light wings hath cast away. The slow-pac'd spheres above 5 Have sure releas'd Their guardians, and without help move, Whilst that the very angels rest.
The number'd sands that slide Through this small glass, 10 And into minutes Time divide, Too slow each other do displace; The tedious wheels of light No faster chime, Than that dull shade which waits on night: 15 For Expectation outruns Time.
How long, Lord, must I stay? How long dwell here? O free me from this loathed clay! Let me no more these fetters wear! 20 With far more joy Shall I resign my breath, For, to my griev'd soul, not to die Is every minute a new death.
IV. LYRICS PRINTED ONLY IN EDITIONS OF 1647 AND 1651.
LOVE'S INNOCENCE.[4:1]
See how this ivy strives to twine[4:2] Her wanton arms about the vine, And her coy lover thus restrains, Entangled in her amorous chains; See how these neighb'ring palms do bend 5 Their heads, and mutual murmurs send, As whispering with a jealous fear[4:3] Their loves into each other's ear. Then blush not such a flame to own } As, like thyself, no crime hath known; } 10 Led by these harmless guides, we may }[4:4] Embrace and kiss as well as they. } And like those blessed souls above, Whose life is harmony and love, Let us our mutual thoughts betray, 15 And in our wills our minds display. This silent speech is swifter far Than the ears' lazy species are; And the expression it affords (As our desires,) 'bove reach of words. 20 Thus we, my Dear, of these may learn[4:5] A passion others not discern; Nor can it shame or blushes move, Like plants to live, like angels love: Since all excuse with equal innocence 25 What above reason is, or beneath sense.
THE DEDICATION.[5:1]
To Love.
Thou whose sole name all passions doth comprise: Youngest and eldest of the Deities, Born without parents, whose unbounded reign Moves the firm earth, fixeth the floating main, Inverts the course of heaven, and from the deep 5 Awakes those souls that in dark Lethe sleep, By thy mysterious chains seeking t'unite, Once more, the long-since-torn hermaphrodite! He who thy willing prisoner long was vow'd, And uncompell'd beneath thy sceptre bow'd, 10 Returns at last in thy soft fetters bound, With victory, though not with freedom, crown'd: And, (of his dangers past a grateful sign,) Suspends this tablet at thy numerous shrine.
THE GLOW-WORM.
Stay, fairest Chariessa, stay and mark This animated gem,[6:1] whose fainter spark Of fading light, its birth had from the dark:
A star thought by the erring[6:2] passenger Which falling from its native orb, dropped here, 5 And makes the earth, its centre, now its sphere.
Should many of these sparks together be, He that the unknown light far off should see Would think it a terrestrial galaxy.
Take 't up, fair Saint; see how it mocks thy fright; 10 The paler flame doth not yield heat, though light, Which thus deceives[6:3] thy reason, through thy sight.
But see how quickly it, ta'en up, doth fade, (To shine in darkness only being made), By th' brightness of thy light turn'd to a shade, 15
And burnt to ashes by thy flaming eyes! On the chaste altar of thy hand it dies, As to thy greater light a sacrifice.
TO CHARIESSA,[7:1]
_Desiring her to Burn his Verses._
These papers, Chariessa, let thy breath Condemn, thy hand unto the flames bequeath; 'Tis fit who gave them life, should give them death.
And whilst[7:2] in curled flames to heaven they rise, Each trembling sheet shall, as it upwards flies, 5 Present itself to thee a sacrifice.
Then when above[7:3] its native orb it came, And reach'd the lesser lights o' th' sky, this flame, Contracted to a star, should wear thy name,
Or falling down on earth from its bright sphere, 10 Shall in a diamond's shape its lustre bear, And trouble (as it did before) thine ear.
But thou wilt cruel even in mercy be, Unequal in thy justice, who dost free Things without sense from flames, and yet not me! 15
ON MR. FLETCHER'S WORKS [1647].[8:1]
Fletcher, whose fame no age can ever waste, (Envy of ours, and glory of the last,) Is now alive again; and with his name His sacred ashes wak'd into a flame Such as before could[8:2] by a secret charm 5 The wildest heart subdue, the coldest warm, And lend the ladies' eyes a power more bright, Dispensing thus, to either, heat and light. He to a sympathy those souls betray'd Whom love or beauty never could persuade; 10 And in each mov'd spectator did[8:3] beget A real passion by a counterfeit. When first Bellario bled, what lady there Did not for every drop let fall a tear? And when Aspasia wept, not any eye 15 But seem'd to wear the same sad livery; By him inspir'd, the feign'd Lucina drew More streams of melting sorrow than the true; But then The Scornful Lady did[8:4] beguile Their easy griefs, and teach them all to smile. 20 Thus he affections could or raise or lay; Love, grief, and mirth thus did his charms obey: He Nature taught her passions to out-do, How to refine the old, and create new; Which such a happy likeness seem'd to bear, 25 As if that Nature Art, Art Nature were. Yet all had nothing been, obscurely kept In the same urn wherein his dust hath slept; Nor had he risen[8:5] the Delphic wreath to claim, Had with[8:6] the dying scene expir'd his name. 30 O the indulgent justice of this age, To grant the press what it denies the stage! Despair our joy hath doubled: he is come Twice welcome by this _post liminium_. His loss preserv'd him; they that silenc'd wit 35 Are now the authors to eternize it. Thus poets are in spite of Fate reviv'd, And plays, by intermission, longer liv'd.
TO THE LADY D[ORMER].[9:1]
Madam! the blushes I betray, When at your feet I humbly lay These papers, beg you would excuse Th' obedience of a bashful Muse, Who, bowing to your strict command, 5 Trusts her own errors to your hand, Hasty abortives, which, laid by, She meant, ere they were born, should die: But since the soft power of your breath Hath call'd them back again from death, 10 To your sharp judgement now made known, She dares for hers no longer own; The worst she must not: these resign'd She hath to th' fire; and where you find Those your kind charity admir'd, 15 She writ but what your eyes inspir'd.
TO MR. W[ILLIAM] HAMMOND.
Thou best of Friendship, Knowledge, and of Art! The charm of whose lov'd name preserves my heart From female vanities, (thy name, which there Till time dissolves the fabric, I must wear!) Forgive a crime which long my soul oppress'd, 5 And crept by chance in my unwary breast, So great, as for thy pardon were unfit, And to forgive were worse than to commit, But that the fault and pain were so much one, The very act did expiate what was done. 10 I, who so often sported with the flame, Play'd with the Boy, and laugh'd at both as tame, Betray'd by idleness and beauty, fell At last in love, love both the sin and hell: No punishment great as my fault esteem'd, 15 But to be that which I so long had seem'd. Behold me such: a face, a voice, a lute; The sentence in a minute execute. I yield, recant; the faith which I before Deny'd, profess; the power I scorn'd, implore. 20 Alas, in vain! no prayers, no vows can bow Her stubborn heart, who neither will allow. But see how strangely what was meant no less Than torment, prov'd my greatest happiness; Delay, that should have sharpen'd, starv'd Desire, 25 And Cruelty not fann'd, but quench'd my fire. Love bound me; now, by kind Disdain set free, I can despise that Love as well as she. That sin to friendship I away have thrown! My heart thou may'st without a rival own,[10:1] 30 While such as willingly themselves beguile, And sell away their freedoms for a smile, Blush to confess our joys as far above Their hopes, as friendship's longer-liv'd than love.
ON MR. SHIRLEY'S POEMS [1646].[11:1]
When, dearest Friend, thy verse doth re-inspire Love's pale decaying torch with brighter fire, Whilst everywhere thou dost dilate thy flame, And to the world spread thy Odelia's name, The justice of all ages must remit 5 To her the prize of beauty, thee of wit. Then, like some skilful artist, that to wonder[11:2] Framing some[11:3] piece, displeas'd, takes it asunder, Thou Beauty dost depose, her charms deny, And all the mystic chains of Love untie. 10 Thus thy diviner Muse a power 'bove Fate May boast, that can both make and uncreate. Next, thou call'st back to life that love-sick boy, To the kind-hearted nymphs less fair than coy, Who, by reflex beams burnt with vain desire, 15 Did, phoenix-like, in his own flames expire; But should he view his shadow drawn by thee, He with himself once more in love would be. Echo, (who though she words[11:4] pursue, her haste Can only overtake and stop the last,) 20 Shall her first speech and human voice[11:5] obtain, To sing thy softer numbers o'er again. Thus, into dying poetry, thy Muse Doth full perfection and new life infuse. Each line deserves a laurel, and thy praise 25 Asks not a garland, but a grove of bays; Nor can ours raise thy lasting trophies higher, Who only reach at merit to admire. But I must chide thee, friend: how canst thou be A patron, yet a foe to Poesy?[11:6] 30 For while thou dost this age to verse restore,} Thou dost deprive the next of owning more; }[11:7] And hast so far all future times surpass'd,[11:8] That none dare write: thus, being first and last, All their abortive Muses will suppress, 35 And Poetry, by this increase, grow less.
ON MR. SHERBURNE'S TRANSLATION OF SENECA'S MEDEA, AND VINDICATION OF THE AUTHOR [1647-8].[12:1]
That wise philosopher who had design'd To [th'] life the various passions of the mind, Did wrong'd Medea's jealousy prefer To entertain the Roman theatre; Both to instruct the soul, and please the sight, 5 At once begetting horror and delight. This cruelty thou dost once more express Though in a strange, no less becoming dress; And her revenge hast robb'd of half its pride, To see itself thus by itself outvied, 10 That boldest ages past may say, our times Can speak, as well as act, their highest crimes. Nor was't enough to do his scene this right, But what thou gav'st to us, with equal light Thou wouldst bestow on him, nor wert more just 15 Unto the author's work, than to his dust. Thou dost make good his title, aid his claim, Both vindicate his poem and his name, So shar'st a double wreath; for all that we Unto the poet[12:2] owe, he owes to thee. 20 Though change of tongues stol'n praise to some afford, Thy version hath not borrow'd, but restor'd.
ON MR. HALL'S ESSAYS [HORAE VACIVAE, 1646].[13:1]