The Complete Poetical Works of George Chapman

by George Chapman

  How then may a man stay his maruailing to see passiondriuen men, reading but to curtoll a tedious houre, and altogether hidebownd with affection to great mens fancies, take vpon them as killing censures as if they were iudgements

  Butchers, or as if the life of truth lay tottering in their verdits.

  Now what a supererogation in wit this is, to thinke skil so mightilie pierst with their loues, that she should prostitutely shew them her secrets, when she will scarcely be lookt vpon by others but with inuocation, fasting, watching; yea not without hauing drops of their soules like an heauenly familiar.

  Why then should our Intonsi Catones with their profit-rauisht grauitie esteeme her true fauours such questionlesse vanities, as with what part soeuer thereof they seeme to be something delighted, they queimishlie commende it for a pretie toy.

  Good Lord how serious and eternall are their Idolatrous platts for riches! no maruaile sure they here do so much good with them. And heauen no doubt will grouill on the earth (as they do) to imbrace them. But I stay this spleene when I remember my good Mat how ioyfully oftentimes you reported vnto me, that most ingenious Darbie, deepe searching Northumberland, and skill-imbracing heire of Hunsdon had most profitably entertained learning in themselues, to the vitall warmth of freezing science, & to the admirable luster of their true Nobilitie, whose high deseruing vertues may cause me hereafter strike that fire out of darknesse, which the brightest Day shall enuie for beautie. I should write more, but my hasting out of towne taketh me from the paper, so preferring thy allowance in this poore and strange trifle, to the passport of a whole Cittie of others, I rest as resolute as Seneca, satisfying my selfe if but a few, if one, or if none like it.

  By the true admirour of thy vertues and perfectly vowed friend.

  G. Chapman.

  HYMNVS IN NOCTEM.

  GREAT Goddesse to whose throne in Cynthian fires,

  This earthlie Alter endlesse fumes exspires,

  Therefore, in fumes of sighes and fires of griefe,

  To fearefull chances thou sendst bold reliefe,

  Happie, thrise happie, Type, and nurse of death,

  Who breathlesse, feedes on nothing but our breath,

  In whom must vertue and her issue liue,

  Or dye for euer; now let humor giue

  Seas to mine eyes, that I may quicklie weepe

  The shipwracke of the world: or let soft sleepe

  (Binding my sences) lose my working soule,

  That in her highest pitch, she may controule

  The court of skill, compact of misterie,

  Wanting but franchisement and memorie

  To reach all secrets: then in blissfull trance,

  Raise her (deare Night) to that perseuerance,

  That in my torture, she all earths may sing,

  And force to tremble in her trumpeting

  Heauens christall temples: in her powrs implant

  Skill of my griefs, and she can nothing want.

  Then like fierce bolts, well rammd with heate & cold

  In loues Artillerie; my words vnfold,

  To breake the labyrinth of euerie eare,

  And make ech frighted soule come forth and heare,

  Let them breake harts, as well as yeelding ayre,

  That all mens bosoms (pierst with no affaires,

  But gaine of riches) may be lanced wide,

  And with the threates of vertue terrified.

  Sorrowes deare soueraigne, and the queene of rest,

  That when vnlightsome, vast, and indigest

  The formelesse matter of this world did lye,

  Fildst euery place with thy Diuinitie,

  Why did thy absolute and endlesse sway,

  Licence heauens torch, the scepter of the Day,

  Distinguisht intercession to thy throne,

  That long before, all matchlesse rulde alone?

  Why letst thou order, orderlesse disperse,

  The fighting parents of this vniuerse?

  When earth, the ayre, and sea, in fire remaind,

  When fire, the sea, and earth, the ayre containd,

  When ayre, the earth, and fire, the sea enclosde

  When sea, fire, ayre, in earth were indisposde,

  Nothing, as now, remainde so out of kinde,

  All things in grosse, were finer than refinde,

  Substance was sound within, and had no being,

  Now forme giues being; all our essence seeming,

  Chaos had soule without a bodie then,

  Now bodies liue without the soules of men,

  Lumps being digested; monsters, in our pride.

  And as a wealthie fount, that hils did hide,

  Let forth by labor of industrious hands,

  Powres out her treasure through the fruitefull strands,

  Seemely diuided to a hunderd streames,

  Whose bewties shed such profitable beames,

  And make such Orphean Musicke in their courses,

  That Citties follow their enchanting forces,

  Who running farre, at length ech powres her hart

  Into the bosome of the gulfie desart,

  As much confounded there, and indigest,

  As in the chaos of the hills comp rest:

  So all things now (extract out of the prime)

  Are turnd to chaos, and confound the time.

  A stepdame Night of minde about vs clings,

  Who broodes beneath her hell obscuring wings,

  Worlds of confusion, where the soule defamde,

  The bodie had bene better neuer framde,

  Beneath thy soft, and peace-full couert then,

  (Most sacred mother both of Gods and men)

  Treasures vnknowne, and more vnprisde did dwell;

  But in the blind borne shadow of this hell,

  This horrid stepdame, blindnesse of the minde,

  Nought worth the sight, no sight, but worse then blind,

  A Gorgon that with brasse, and snakie brows,

  (Most harlot-like) her naked secrets shows:

  For in th’expansure, and distinct attire,

  Of light, and darcknesse, of the sea, and fire,

  Of ayre, and earth, and all, all these create,

  First set and rulde, in most harmonious state,

  Disiunction showes, in all things now amisse,

  By that first order, what confusion is:

  Religious curb, that manadgd men in bounds,

  Of publique wellfare; lothing priuate grounds,

  (Now cast away, by selfe-lou’s paramores)

  All are transformd to Calydonian bores,

  That kill our bleeding vines, displow our fields,

  Rend groues in peeces; all things nature yeelds

  Supplanting: tumbling vp in hills of dearth,

  The fruitefull disposition of the earth,

  Ruine creates men: all to slaughter bent,

  Like enuie, fed with others famishment.

  And what makes men without the parts of men,

  Or in their manhoods, lesse then childeren,

  But manlesse natures? all this world was namde

  A world of him, for whom it first was framde,

  (Who (like a tender Cheurill,) shruncke with fire

  Of base ambition, and of selfe-desire,

  His armes into his shoulders crept for feare

  Bountie should vse them; and fierce rape forbeare,

  His legges into his greedie belly runne,

  The charge of hospitalitie to shunne)

  In him the world is to a lump reuerst,

  That shruncke from forme, that was by forme disperst,

  And in nought more then thanklesse auarice,

  Not rendring vertue her deserued price.

  Kinde Amalthaea was transferd by loue,

  Into his sparckling pauement, for her loue,

  Though but a Goate, and giuing him her milke,

  Basenesse is flintie; gentrie softe as silke,

  In heauens she Hues, and rules a liuing sig
ne

  In humane bodies: yet not so diuine,

  That she can worke her kindnesse in our harts.

  The sencelesse Argiue ship, for her deserts,

  Bearing to Colchos, and for bringing backe,

  The hardie Argonauts, secure of wracke,

  The fautor and the God of gratitude,

  Would not from number of the starres exclude.

  A thousand such examples could I cite,

  To damne stone-pesants, that like Typhons fight

  Against their Maker, and contend to be

  Of kings, the abiect slaues of drudgerie:

  Proud of that thraldome: loue the kindest lest,

  And hate, not to be hated of the best.

  If then we frame mans figure by his mind,

  And that at first, his fashion was assignd,

  Erection in such God-like excellence

  For his soules sake, and her intelligence:

  She so degenerate, and growne deprest,

  Content to share affections with a beast,

  The shape wherewith he should be now indude,

  Must beare no signe of mans similitude.

  Therefore Promethean Poets with the coles

  Of their most geniale, more-then-humane soules

  In liuing verse, created men like these,

  With shapes of Centaurs, Harpies, Lapithes,

  That they in prime of erudition,

  When almost sauage vulgar men were growne,

  Seeing them selues in those Pierean founts,

  Might mend their mindes, asham’d of such accounts.

  So when ye heare, the sweetest Muses sonne,

  With heauenly rapture of his Musicke, wonne

  Rockes, forrests, floods, and winds to leaue their course

  In his attendance: it bewrayes the force

  His wisedome had, to draw men growne so rude

  To ciuill loue of Art, and Fortitude.

  And not for teaching others insolence,

  Had he his date-exceeding excellence

  With soueraigne Poets, but for use applyed,

  And in his proper actes exemplified;

  And that in calming the infernall kinde,

  To wit, the perturbations of his minde,

  And bringing his Eurydice from hell,

  (Which Iustice signifies) is proued well.

  But if in rights obseruance any man

  Looke backe, with boldnesse lesse then Orphean,

  Soone falls he to the hell from whence he rose:

  The fiction then would temprature dispose,

  In all the tender motiues of the minde,

  To make man worthie his hel-danting kinde.

  The golden chaine of Homers high deuice

  Ambition is, or cursed auarice,

  Which all Gods haling being tyed to loue,

  Him from his setled height could neuer moue:

  Intending this, that though that powrefull chaine

  Of most Herculean vigor to constraine

  Men from true vertue, or their pristine states

  Attempt a man that manlesse changes hates,

  And is enobled with a deathlesse loue

  Of things eternall, dignified aboue:

  Nothing shall stirre him from adorning still

  This shape with vertue, and his powre with will.

  But as rude painters that contend to show

  Beasts, foules or fish, all artlesse to bestow

  On euery side his natiue counterfet,

  Aboue his head, his name had neede to set:

  So men that will be men, in more then face,

  (As in their foreheads) should in actions place

  More perfect characters, to proue they be

  No mockers of their first nobilitie:

  Else may they easly passe for beasts or foules:

  Soules praise our shapes, and not our shapes our soules.

  And as when Chloris paints th’ennamild meads,

  A flocke of shepherds to the bagpipe treads

  Rude rurall dances with their countrey loues:

  Some a farre off obseruing their remoues,

  Turnes, and returnes, quicke footing, sodaine stands,

  Reelings aside, od actions with their hands;

  Now backe, now forwards, now lockt arme in arme,

  Now hearing musicke, thinke it is a charme,

  That like loose froes at Bacchanalean feasts,

  Makes them seeme franticke in their barraine iestes;

  And being clusterd in a shapelesse croude,

  With much lesse admiration are allowd.

  So our first excellence, so much abusd,

  And we (without the harmonie was vsd,

  When Saturnes golden scepter stroke the strings

  Of Ciuill gouernement) make all our doings

  Sauour of rudenesse, and obscuritie,

  And in our formes shew more deformitie,

  Then if we still were wrapt, and smoothered

  In that confusion, out of which we fled.

  And as when hosts of starres attend thy flight,

  (Day of deepe students, most contentfull night)

  The morning (mounted on the Muses stead)

  Vshers the sonne from Vulcans golden bed,

  And then from forth their sundrie roofes of rest,

  All sorts of men, to sorted taskes addrest,

  Spreade this inferiour element: and yeeld

  Labour his due: the souldier to the field,

  States-men to counsell, Iudges to their pleas,

  Merchants to commerce, mariners to seas:

  All beasts, and birds, the groues and forrests range,

  To fill all corners of this round Exchange,

  Till thou (deare Night, o goddesse of most worth)

  Letst thy sweet seas of golden humor forth

  And Eagle-like dost with thy starrie wings,

  Beate in the foules, and beasts to Somnus lodgings,

  And haughtie Day to the infernall deepe,

  Proclaiming scilence, studie, ease, and sleepe.

  All things before thy forces put in rout,

  Retiring where the morning fir’d them out.

  So to the chaos of our first descent,

  (All dayes of honor, and of vertue spent)

  We basely make retrait, and are no lesse

  Then huge impolisht heapes of filthinesse.

  Mens faces glitter, and their hearts are blacke,

  But thou (great Mistresse of heauens gloomie racke)

  Art blacke in face, and glitterst in thy heart.

  There is thy glorie, riches, force, and Art;

  Opposed earth, beates blacke and blewe thy face,

  And often doth thy heart it selfe deface,

  For spite that to thy vertue-famed traine,

  All the choise worthies that did euer raigne

  In eldest age, were still preferd by loue,

  Esteeming that due honor to his loue.

  There shine they: not to sea-men guides alone,

  But sacred presidents to euerie one.

  There fixt for euer, where the Day is driuen,

  Almost foure hundred times a yeare from heauen.

  In hell then let her sit, and neuer rise,

  Till Morns leaue blushing at her cruelties.

  Meane while, accept, as followers of thy traine,

  (Our better parts aspiring to thy raigne)

  Vertues obscur’d, and banished the day,

  With all the glories of this spongie sway,

  Prisond in flesh, and that poore flesh in bands

  Of stone, and Steele, chiefe flowrs of vertues Garlands.

  O then most tender fortresse of our woes,

  That bleeding lye in vertues ouerthroes,

  Hating the whoredome of this painted light:

  Raise thy chast daughters, ministers of right,

  The dreadfull and the iust Eumenides,

  And let them wreake the wrongs of our disease,

  Drowning the world i
n bloud, and staine the skies

  With their spilt soûles, made drunke with tyrannies.

  Fall Hercules from heauen in tempestes hurld,

  And cleanse this beastly stable of the world:

  Or bend thy brasen bow against the Sunne,

  As in Tartessus, when thou hadst begunne

  Thy taske of oxen: heat in more extreames

  Then thou wouldst suffer, with his enuious beames:

  Now make him leaue the world to Night and dreames.

  Neuer were vertues labours so enuy’d

  As in this light: shoote, shoote, and stoope his pride:

  Suffer no more his lustfull rayes to get

  The Earth with issue: let him still be set

  In Somnus thickets: bound about the browes,

  With pitchie vapours, and with Ebone bowes.

  Rich-tapird sanctuarie of the blest,

  Pallace of Ruth, made all of teares, and rest,

  To thy blacke shades and desolation,

  I consecrate my life; and liuing mone,

  Where furies shall for euer fighting be,

  And adders hisse the world for hating me,

  Foxes shall barke, and Night-rauens belch in grones,

  And owles shall hollow my confusions:

  There will I furnish vp my funerall bed,

  Strewd with the bones and relickes of the dead.

  Atlas shall let th’Olimpick burthen fall,

  To couer my vntombed face withall.

  And when as well, the matter of our kind,

  As the materiall substance of the mind,

  Shall cease their reuolutions, in abode

  Of such impure and vgly period,

  As the old essence, and insensiue prime:

  Then shall the ruines of the fourefold time,

  Turnd to that lumpe (as rapting Torrents rise)

  For euer murmure forth my miseries.

  Ye liuing spirits then, if any Hue,

  Whom like extreames, do like affections giue,

  Shun, shun this cruell light, and end your thrall,

  In these soft shades of sable funerall:

  From whence with ghosts, whom vengeance holds from rest,

  Dog-fiends and monsters hanting the distrest,

  As men whose parents tyrannie hath slaine,

  Whose sisters rape, and bondage do sustaine.

  But you that ne’er had birth, nor euer prou’d,

  How deare a blessing tis to be belou’d,

  Whose friends idolatrous desire of gold,

  To scorne, and ruine haue your freedome sold:

  Whose vertues feele all this, and shew your eyes,