Thus (not affecting glory for mine owne sleight labors, but desirous others should be more worthely glorious, nor professing sacred Poesie in any degree,) I thought good to submit to your apt iudgment: acquainted long since with the true habit of Poesie, and now since your labouring wits endeuour heauen-high thoughts of Nature, you haue actual meanes to sound the philosophical conceits, that my new pen so seriously courteth. I know, that empty, and dark spirits, wil complaine of palpable night: but those that before-hand, haue a radiant, and light-bearing intellect, will say they can passe through Corynnas Garden without the helpe of a Lanterne.
Your owne most worthily and sincerely affected,
George Chapman.
RICHARD STAPLETON TO THE AUTHOR.
Phoebus hath giuen thee both his bow, and Muse;
With one thou slayst the Artizans of thunder,
And to thy verse dost such a sound infuse,
That gatherd storms therewith are blowne in sunder:
The other decks her with her golden wings
Spred beyond measure, in thy ample verse,
Where she (as in her bowrs of Lawrell) sings
Sweet philosophick strains that Feends might pierse,
The soule of brightnes in thy darknes shines
Most new, and deare: vnstainde with forraine graces,
And when aspiring sprights shall reach thy lines,
They will not heare our trebble-termed bases.
With boldnes then thy able Poems vse
Phoebus hath giuen thee both his bow and Muse.
Tho: Williams of the inner Temple.
Issue of Semele that will imbrace
With fleshly arms the three-wingd wife of thunder:
Let her sad ruine, such proud thoughts abase
And view aloofe, this verse in silent wonder,
If neerer your vnhallowed eyes wil pierse,
Then (with the Satyre) kisse this sacred fire,
To scorch your lips, that dearely taught thereby
Your onely soules fit obiects may aspire,
But you high spirrits in thys cloud of gold
Inioy (like Joue) this bright Saturnian Muse,
Your eyes can well the dazeling beames behold
This Pythian lightner freshly doth effuse
To dant the basenes of that bastard traine
Whose twise borne iudgments, formeles still remaine.
Another.
Vngratefull Farmers of the Muses land
That (wanting thrift and iudgment to imploy it)
Let it manureles and vnfenced stand,
Till barbarous Cattell enter and destroy it:
Now the true heyre is happily found out
Who (framing it t’inritch posterities)
Walles it with spright-fild darknes round about,
Grass, plants, and sowes; and makes it Paradise.
To which without the Parcaes golden bow,
None can aspire but stick in errors hell;
A garland to engird a Monarchs brow,
Then take some paines to ioy so rich a Iewell
Most prize is graspt in labors hardest hand,
And idle soules can nothing rich command.
I. D. of the middle Temple.
Onely that eye which for true loue doth weepe,
Onely that hart which tender loue doth pierse,
May read and vnderstand this sacred vierse
For other wits too misticall and deepe:
Betweene these hallowed leaues Cupid dooth keepe
The golden lesson of his second Artist,
For loue, till now, hath still a Maister mist
Since Ouids eyes were closd with iron sleepe;
But now his waking soule in Chapman liues,
Which showes so well the passions of his soule,
And yet this Muse more cause of wonder giues,
And doth more Prophet-like loues art enroule:
For Ouids soule, now growne more old and wise,
Poures foorth it selfe in deeper misteries.
Another.
Since Ouid (loues first gentle Maister) dyed
She hath a most notorious trueant beene,
And hath not once in thrice fiue ages seene
That same sweete Muse that was his first sweet guide;
But since Apollo who was gratified
Once with a kisse, hunting on Cynthus greene,
By loues fayre Mother tender Beauties Queene,
This fauor vnto her hath not enuied,
That into whome she will, she may infuse
For the instruction of her tender sonne,
The gentle Ouids easie supple Muse,
Which vnto thee (sweet Chapman) she hath doone:
Shee makes (in thee) the spirit of Ouid moue,
And calles thee second Maister of her loue.
Futurum inuisibile.
OVIDS BANQUET OF SENCE.
THE ARGUMENT.
OVID, newly enamoured of Iulia, (daughter to Octauius Augustus Caesar, after by him called Corynna,) secretly conuaid himselfe into a Garden of the Emperors Court: in an Arbor whereof, Corynna was bathing; playing vpon her Lute, and singing: which Ouid ouer-hearing, was exceedingly pleasde with the sweetnes of her voyce, & to himselfe vttered the comfort he concerned in his sence of Hearing. Then the odors shee vsde in her bath, breathing a rich sauor, hee expresseth the ioy he felt in his sence of Smelling. Thus growing more deeplie enamoured, in great contentation with himselfe, he venters to see her in the pride of her nakednesse: which dooing by stealth, he discouered the comfort hee conceiued in Seeing, and the glorie of her beautie. Not yet satisfied, hee vseth all his Art to make knowne his being there, without her offence: or (being necessarily offended) to appease her: which done, he entreats a kisse to serue for satisfaction of his Tast, which he obtaines. Then proceedes he to entreaty for the fift sence and there is interrupted.
NARRATIO.
1
The Earth, from heauenly light conceiued heat,
Which mixed all her moyst parts with her dry,
When with right beames the Sun her bosome beat,
And with fit foode her Plants did nutrifie;
They (which to Earth, as to theyr Mother cling
In forked rootes) now sprinckled plenteously
With her warme breath; did hasten to the spring,
Gather their proper forces, and extrude
All powre but that, with which they stood indude.
2
Then did Cyrrhus fill his eyes with fire,
Whose ardor curld the foreheads of the trees,
And made his greene-loue burne in his desire,
When youth, and ease, (Collectors of loues fees)
Entic’d Corynna to a siluer spring,
Enchasing a round Bowre; which with it sees,
(As with a Diamant dooth an ameld Ring.)
Into which eye, most pittifully stood
Niobe, shedding teares, that were her blood.
3
Stone Niobe, whose statue to this Fountaine,
In great Augustus Caesars grace was brought
From Sypilus, the steepe Mygdonian Mountaine:
That statue tis, still weepes for former thought,
Into thys spring Corynnas bathing place;
So cunningly to optick reason wrought,
That a farre of, it shewd a womans face,
Heauie, and weeping; but more neerely viewed,
Nor weeping, heauy, nor a woman shewed.
4
In Sommer onely wrought her exstasie;
And that her story might be still obserued,
Octauius caus’d in curious imagrie,
Her fourteene children should at large be earned,
Theyr fourteene brests, with fourteene arrowes gored
And set by her, that for her seede so starued
To a stone Sepulcher herselfe deplored,
In Iuory were they cut; and on each brest,
In golden Elements theyr names i
mprest.
5
Her sonnes were Sypilus, Agenor, Phaedimus,
Ismenus, Argus, and Damasidhen,
The seauenth calde like his Grandsire, Tantalus.
Her Daughters, were the fayre Astiochen,
Chloris, Naeera, and Pelopie,
Phaeta, proud Phthia, and Eugigen,
All these apposde to violent Niobe
Had lookes so deadly sad, so liuely doone,
As if Death liu’d in theyr confusion.
6
Behind theyr Mother two Pyramides
Of freckled Marble, through the Arbor viewed,
On whose sharp brows, Sol, and Tytanides
In purple and transparent glasse were hewed,
Through which the Sun-beames on the statues staying,
Made theyr pale bosoms seeme with blood imbrewed,
Those two sterne Plannets rigors still bewraying
To these dead forms, came liuing beauties essence
Able to make them startle with her presence.
7
In a loose robe of Tynsell foorth she came,
Nothing but it betwixt her nakednes
And enuious light. The downward-burning flame,
Of her rich hayre did threaten new accesse,
Of ventrous Phaeton to scorch the fields:
And thus to bathing came our Poets Goddesse,
Her handmaides bearing all things pleasure yeelds
To such a seruice; Odors most delighted,
And purest linnen which her lookes had whited.
8
Then cast she off her robe, and stood vpright,
As lightning breakes out of a laboring cloude;
Or as the Morning heauen casts off the Night,
Or as that heauen cast off it selfe, and showde
Heauens vpper light, to which the brightest day
Is but a black and melancholy shroude:
Or as when Venus striu’d for soueraine sway
Of charmfull beautie, in yong Troyes desire,
So stood Corynna vanishing her tire.
9
A soft enflowered banck embrac’d the founte;
Of Chloris ensignes, an abstracted field;
Where grew Melanthy, great in Bees account,
Amareus, that precious Balme dooth yeeld,
Enameld Pansies, vs’d at Nuptials still,
Dianas arrow, Cupids crimson shielde,
Ope-morne, night-shade, and Venus nauill,
Solemne Violets, hanging head as shamed,
And verdant Calaminth, for odor famed.
10
Sacred Nepenthe, purgatiue of care,
And soueraine Rumex that doth rancor kill,
Sya, and Hyacinth, that Furies weare,
White and red Iessamines, Merry, Melliphill:
Fayre Crowne-imperiall, Emperor of Flowers,
Immortall Amaranth, white Aphrodill,
And cup-like Twillpants, stroude in Bacchus Bowres,
These cling about this Natures naked Iem,
To taste her sweetes, as Bees doe swarme on them.
11
And now shee vsde the Founte, where Niobe,
Toomb’d in her selfe, pourde her lost soule in teares,
Vpon the bosome of this Romaine Phoebe;
Who; bathd and Odord; her bright lyms she rears,
And drying her on that disparent grounde;
Her Lute she takes t’enamoure heuenly eares,
And try if with her voyces vitall sounde,
She could warme life through those cold statues spread,
And cheere the Dame that wept when she was dead.
12
And thus she sung, all naked as she sat,
Laying the happy Lute vpon her thigh,
Not thinking any neere to wonder at
The blisse of her sweet brests diuinitie.
THE SONG OF CORYNNA.
T’is better to contemne then loue,
And to be fayre then wise;
For soules are rulde by eyes:
And loues Bird, ceaz’d by Cypris Doue,
It is our grace and sport to see,
Our beauties sorcerie,
That makes (like destinie)
Men followe vs the more wee flee;
That sets wise Glosses on the foole,
And turns her cheekes to bookes,
Where wisdome sees in lookes
Derision, laughing at his schoole,
Who (louing) proues, prophanenes, holy;
Nature, our fate, our wisdome, folly.
13
While this was singing, Ouid yong in loue
With her perfections, neuer prouing yet
How mercifull a Mistres she would proue,
Boldly embrac’d the power he could not let
And like a fiery exhalation
Followd the sun, he wisht might neuer set;
Trusting heerein his constellation
Rul’d by loues beames, which Iulias eyes erected,
Whose beauty was the star his life directed.
14
And hauing drencht his anckles in those seas,
He needes would swimme, and car’d not if he drounde:
Loues feete are in his eyes; for if he please
The depth of beauties gulfye floode to sounde,
He goes vpon his eyes, and vp to them,
At the first steap he is; no shader grounde
Coulde Ouid finde; but in loues holy streame
Was past his eyes, and now did wett his eares,
For his high Soueraignes siluer voice he heares.
15
Whereat his wit, assumed fierye wings,
Soring aboue the temper of his soule,
And he the purifying rapture sings
Of his eares sence, takes full the Thespian boule
And it carrouseth to his Mistres health,
Whose sprightfull verdure did dull flesh contrôle,
And his conceipt he crowneth with the wealth
Of all the Muses in his pleased sences,
When with the eares delight he thus commences:
16
Now Muses come, repayre your broken wings,
(Pluckt, and prophan’d by rusticke Ignorance,)
With feathers of these notes my Mistres sings;
And let quick verse hir drooping head aduance
From dungeons of contempt to smite the starrs;
In lulias tunes, led forth by furious trance
A thousand Muses come to bid you warrs,
Diue to your Spring, and hide you from the stroke,
All Poets furies will her tunes inuoke.
17
Neuer was any sence so sette on fire
With an immortall ardor, as myne eares;
Her fingers to the strings doth speeche inspire
And numberd laughter; that the descant beares
To hir sweete voice; whose species through my sence
My spirits to theyr highest function reares;
To which imprest with ceaseles confluence
It vseth them, as propper to her powre
Marries my soule, and makes it selfe her dowre;
18
Me thinks her tunes flye guilt, like Attick Bees
To my eares hiues, with hony tryed to ayre;
My braine is but the combe, the wax, the lees,
My soule the Drone, that Hues by their affayre.
O so it sweets, refines, and rauisheth,
And with what sport they sting in theyr repayre:
Rise then in swarms, and sting me thus to death
Or turne me into swounde; possesse me whole,
Soule to my life, and essence to my soule.
19
Say gentle Ayre, ô does it not thee good
Thus to be smit with her correcting voyce?
Why daunce ye not, ye daughters of the wood?
Wither for euer, if not now reioyce.
Rise stones, and build a Cittie w
ith her notes,
And notes infuse with your most Cynthian noyse,
To all the Trees, sweete flowers, and christall Flotes,
That crowne, and make this cheerefull Garden quick,
Vertue, that every tuch may make such Musick.
20
O that as man is cald a little world
The world might shrink into a little man,
To heare the notes about this Garden hurld,
That skill disperst in tunes so Orphean
Might not be lost in smiting stocks and trees
That haue no eares; but growne as it began
Spred theyr renownes, as far as Phoebus sees
Through earths dull vaines; that shee like heauen might moue,
In ceaseles Musick, and be fill’d with loue.
21
In precious incense of her holy breath,
My loue doth offer Hecatombs of notes
To all the Gods; who now despise the death
Of Oxen, Heifers, Wethers, Swine, and Goates.
A Sonnet in her breathing sacrifiz’d,
Delights them more then all beasts bellowing throates,
As much with heauen, as with my hearing priz’d.
And as guilt Atoms in the sunne appeare,
So greete these sounds the grissells of myne eare,
22
Whose pores doe open wide to theyr regreete,
And my implanted ayre, that ayre embraceth
Which they impresse; I feele theyr nimble feete
Tread my eares Labyrinth; theyr sport amazeth
They keepe such measure; play themselues and dance.
And now my soule in Cupids Furnace blazeth,
Wrought into furie with theyr daliance:
And as the fire the parched stuble burns,
So fades my flesh, and into spyrit turns.
23
Sweete tunes, braue issue, that from Iulia come;
Shooke from her braine, armd like the Queenë of Ire;
For first conceiued in her mentall wombe,
And nourisht with her soules discursiue fire,
They grew into the power of her thought;
She gaue them dounye plumes from her attire,
And them to strong imagination brought:
That, to her voice; wherein most mouinglye
Shee (blessing them with kysses) letts them flye.
24
Who flye reioysing; but (like noblest mindes)
In giuing others life themselues do dye,
The Complete Poetical Works of George Chapman Page 5
