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The Complete Poetical Works of George Chapman

Page 14

by George Chapman


  He said; see sister, Heros Carquenet,

  Which she had rather weare about her neck,

  Then all the jewels that dot Juno deck.

  But as he shooke with passionate desire,

  To put in flame his other secret fire,

  A musick so divine did pierce his eare,

  As never yet his ravisht sence did heare:

  When suddenly a light of twentie hews

  Brake through the roofe, and like the Rainbow views

  Amazd Leander; in whose beames came downe

  The Goddesse Ceremonie, with a Crowne

  Of all the stars, and heaven with her descended.

  Her flaming haire to her bright feete extended,

  By which hung all the bench of Deities;

  And in a chaine, compact of eares and eies,

  She led Religion; all her bodie was

  Cleere and transparent as the purest glasse:

  For she was all presented to the sence;

  Devotion, Order, State, and Reverence,

  Her shadowes were; Societie, Memorie;

  All which her sight made live, her absence die.

  A rich disparent Pentackle she weares,

  Drawne full of circles and strange characters:

  Her face was changeable to everie eie;

  One way lookt ill, another graciouslie;

  Which while men viewd, they cheerfull were and holy:

  But looking off, vicious, and melancholy:

  The snakie paths to each observed law,

  Did Policie in her broad bosome draw:

  One hand a Mathematique Christall swayes,

  Which gathering in one line a thousand rayes

  From her bright eyes, Confusion burnes to death,

  And all estates of men distinguisheth.

  By it Morallitie and Comelinesse,

  Themselves in all their sightly figures dresse.

  Her other hand a lawrell rod applies,

  To beate back Barbarisme, and Avarice,

  That followd eating earth, and excrement

  And humane lims; and would make proud ascent

  To seates of Gods, were Ceremonie slaine;

  The Howrs and Graces bore her glorious traine,

  And all the sweetes of our societie

  Were Spherde, and treasurde in her bountious eie.

  Thus she appeard, and sharply did reprove

  Leanders bluntnes in his violent love;

  Tolde him how poore was substance without rites,

  Like bils unsignd; desires without delites;

  Like meates unseasond; like ranke corne that growes

  On Cottages, that none or reapes or sowes:

  Not being with civill forms confirm’d and bounded,

  For humane dignities and comforts founded:

  But loose and secret all their glories hide,

  Feare fils the chamber, darknes decks the Bride.

  She vanisht, leaving pierst Leanders hart

  With sence of his unceremonious part,

  In which with plaine neglect of Nuptiall rites,

  He close and flatly fell to his delites:

  And instantly he vowd to celebrate

  All rites pertaining to his maried state.

  So up he gets and to his father goes,

  To whose glad eares he doth his vowes disclose:

  The Nuptials are resolv’d with utmost powre,

  And he at night would swim to Heros towre.

  From whence he ment to Sestus forked Bay

  To bring her covertly, where ships must stay,

  Sent by his father throughly rigd and mand,

  To waft her safely to Abydus Strand.

  There leave we him, and with fresh wing pursue

  Astonisht Hero, whose most wished view

  I thus long have forborne, because I left her

  So out of countuance, and her spirits bereft her.

  “To looke of one abasht is impudence,”

  “When of sleight faults he hath too deepe a sence.”

  Her blushing het her chamber: she lookt out,

  And all the ayre she purpled round about,

  And after it a foule black day befell,

  Which ever since a red morne doth foretell,

  And still renewes our woes for Heros wo:

  And foule it prov’d, because it figur’d so

  The next nights horror, which prepare to heare;

  I faile if it prophane your daintiest eare.

  Then thou most strangely-intellectuall fire,

  That proper to my soule hast power t’inspire

  Her burning faculties, and with the wings

  Of thy unspheared flame visitst the springs

  Of spirits immortall; Now (as swift as Time

  Doth follow Motion) finde th’eternall Clime

  Of his free soule, whose living subject stood

  Up to the chin in the Pyerean flood,

  And drunke to me halfe this Musean stone,

  Inscribing it to deathles Memorie:

  Confer with it, and make my pledge as deepe,

  That neithers draught be consecrate to sleepe.

  Tell it how much his late desires I tender,

  (If yet it know not) and to light surrender

  My soules darke ofspring, willing it should die

  To loves, to passions, and societie.

  Sweet Hero left upon her bed alone,

  Her maidenhead, her vowes, Leander gone,

  And nothing with her but a violent crew

  Of new come thoughts that yet she never knew,

  Even to her selfe a stranger; was much like

  Th’Iberian citie that wars hand did strike

  By English force in princely Essex guide,

  When peace assur’d her towres had fortifide;

  And golden-fingred India had bestowd

  Such wealth on her, that strength and Empire flowd

  Into her Turrets; and her virgin waste

  The wealthie girdle of the Sea embraste:

  Till our Leander that made Mars his Cupid,

  For soft love-sutes, with iron thunders chid:

  Swum to her Towers, dissolv’d her virgin zone;

  Lead in his power, and made Confusion

  Run through her streets amazd, that she supposde

  She had not been in her owne walls inclosde:

  But rapt by wonder to some forraine state,

  Seeing all her issue so disconsolate:

  And all her peacefull mansions possest

  With wars just spoyle, and many a forraine guest

  From every corner driving an enjoyer,

  Supplying it with power of a destroyer.

  So far’d fayre Hero in th’expugned fort

  Of her chast bosome, and of every sort

  Strange thoughts possest her, ransacking her brest

  For that that was not there, her wonted rest.

  She was a mother straight and bore with paine,

  Thoughts that spake straight and wisht their mother slaine;

  She hates their lives, and they their own and hers:

  Such strife still growes where sin the race prefers.

  “Love is a golden bubble full of dreames,”

  “That waking breakes, and fils us with extreames.”

  She mus’d how she could looke upon her Sire,

  And not shew that without, that was intire.

  For as a glasse is an inanimate eie,

  And outward formes imbraceth inwardlie:

  So is the eye an animate glasse that showes

  In-formes without us. And as Phoebus throwes

  His beames abroad, though he in clowdes be closde,

  Still glancing by them till he finde opposde,

  A loose and rorid vapour that is fit

  T’event his searching beames, and useth it

  To forme a tender twentie-coloured eie,

  Cast in a circle round about the skie.

  So when our fine soule, Our bodies starre,<
br />
  (That ever is in motion circulare)

  Conceives a forme; in seeking to display it,

  Through all Our clowdie parts, it doth convey it

  Forth at the eye, as the most pregnant place,

  And that reflects it round about the face.

  And this event uncourtly Hero thought,

  Her inward guilt would in her lookes have wrought:

  For yet the worlds stale cunning she resisted

  To beare foule thoughts, yet forge what lookes she listed,

  And held it for a very sillie sleight,

  To make a perfect mettall counterfeit:

  Glad to disclaime her selfe; proud of an Art,

  That makes the face a Pandar to the hart.

  Those be the painted Moones, whose lights prophane

  Beauties true Heaven, at full still in their wane.

  Those be the Lapwing faces that still crie,

  Here tis, when that they vow is nothing nie.

  Base fooles, when every moorish fowle can teach

  That which men thinke the height of humane reach.

  But custome that the Apoplexie is

  Of beddred nature and lives led amis,

  And takes away all feeling of offence,

  Yet brazde not Heros brow with impudence;

  And this she thought most hard to bring to pas,

  To seeme in counmance other then she was.

  As if she had two soules; one for the face,

  One for the hart; and that they shifted place

  As either list to utter, or conceale

  What they conceiv’d: or as one soule did deale

  With both affayres at once, keeps and ejects

  Both at an instant contrarie effects:

  Retention and ejection in her powrs

  Being acts alike: for this one vice of ours,

  That forms the thought, and swaies the countenance,

  Rules both our motion and our utterance.

  These and more grave conceits toyld Heros spirits:

  For though the light of her discoursive wits

  Perhaps might finde some little hole to pas

  Through all these worldly cinctures; yet (alas)

  There was a heavenly flame incompast her;

  Her Goddesse, in whose Phane she did prefer

  Her virgin vowes; from whose impulsive sight

  She knew the black shield of the darkest night

  Could not defend her, nor wits subtilst art:

  This was the point pierst Hero to the hart.

  Who heavie to the death, with a deep sigh

  And hand that languisht, tooke a robe was nigh,

  Exceeding large, and of black Cypres made,

  In which she sate, hid from the day in shade,

  Even over head and face downe to her feete;

  Her left hand made it at her bosome meete;

  Her right hand leand on her hart-bowing knee,

  Wrapt in unshapefull foulds twas death to see:

  Her knee stayd that, and that her falling face,

  Each limme helpt other to put on disgrace.

  No forme was seene, where forme held all her sight:

  But like an Embrion that saw never light:

  Or like a scorched statue made a cole

  With three-wingd lightning: or a wretched soule

  Muffled with endles darknes, she did sit:

  The night had never such a heavie spirit.

  Yet might an imitating eye well see,

  How fast her deere teares melted on her knee

  Through her black vaile, and turnd as black as it,

  Mourning to be her teares: then wrought her wit

  With her broke vow, her Goddesse wrath, her fame,

  All tooles that enginous despayre could frame:

  Which made her strow the floore with her torne haire,

  And spread her mantle peece-meale in the aire.

  Like Joves sons club, strong passion strooke her downe,

  And with a piteous shrieke inforst her swoune:

  Her shrieke, made with another shrieke ascend

  The frighted Matron that on her did tend:

  And as with her owne crie her sence was slaine,

  So with the other it was calde againe.

  She rose and to her bed made forced way,

  And layd her downe even where Leander lay:

  And all this while the red sea of her blood

  Ebd with Leander: but now turnd the flood,

  And all her fleete of sprites came swelling in

  With childe of saile, and did hot fight begin

  With those severe conceits, she too much markt,

  And here Leanders beauties were imbarkt.

  He came in swimming painted all with joyes,

  Such as might sweeten hell: his thought destroyes

  All her destroying thoughts: she thought she felt

  His heart in hers, with her contentions melt:

  And chid her soule that it could so much erre,

  To check the true joyes he deserv’d in her.

  Her fresh heat blood cast figures in her eyes,

  And she supposde she saw in Neptunes skyes

  How her star wandred, washt in smarting brine

  For her loves sake, that with immortall wine

  Should be embat’d, and swim in more hearts ease,

  Than there was water in the Sestian seas.

  Then said her Cupid prompted spirit; shall I

  Sing mones to such delightsome harmony?

  Shall slick-tongde fame patcht up with voyces rude,

  The drunken bastard of the multitude,

  (Begot when father Judgement is away,

  And gossip-like, sayes because others say,

  Takes newes as if it were too hot to eate,

  And spits it slavering forth for dog-fees meate)

  Make me for forging a phantastique vow,

  Presume to beare what makes grave matrons bow?

  Good vowes are never broken with good deedes,

  For then good deedes were bad: vowes are but seedes,

  And good deeds fruits; even those good deedes that grow

  From other stocks than from th’observed vow.

  That is a good deede that prevents a bad:

  Had I not yeelded, slaine my selfe I had.

  Hero Leander is, Leander Hero:

  Such vertue love hath to make one of two.

  If then Leander did my maydenhead git,

  Leander being my selfe I still retaine it.

  We breake chast vowes when we live loosely ever:

  But bound as we are, we live loosely never.

  Two constant lovers being joynd in one,

  Yeelding to one another, yeeld to none.

  We know not how to vow, till love unblinde us,

  And vowes made ignorantly never binde us.

  Too true it is that when t’is gone men hate

  The joyes as vaine they tooke in loves estate:

  But that’s, since they have lost the heavenly light

  Should shew them way to judge of all things right.

  When life is gone death must implant his terror,

  As death is foe to life, so love to error.

  Before we love how range we through this sphere,

  Searching the sundrie fancies hunted here:

  Now with desire of wealth transported quite

  Beyond our free humanities delight:

  Now with ambition climing falling towrs,

  Whose hope to scale our feare to fall devours:

  Now rapt with pastimes, pomp, all joyes impure;

  “In things without us no delight is sure.”

  But love with all joyes crownd, within doth sit;

  O Goddesse pitie love and pardon it.

  This spake she weeping: but her Goddesse eare

  Burnd with too sterne a heat, and would not heare.

  Aie me, hath heavens straight fingers no more graces

  For such as Hero, then
for homeliest faces?

  Yet she hopte well, and in her sweet conceit

  Waying her arguments, she thought them weight:

  And that the logick of Leanders beautie,

  And them together would bring proofes of dutie.

  And if her soule, that was a skilfull glance

  Of Heavens great essence, found such imperance

  In her loves beauties; she had confidence

  Jove lov’d him too, and pardond her offence.

  “Beautie in heaven and earth this grace doth win,”

  “It supples rigor, and it lessens sin.”

  Thus, her sharpe wit, her love, her secrecie,

  Trouping together, made her wonder why

  She should not leave her bed, and to the Temple?

  Her health sayd she must live; her sex, dissemble.

  She viewd Leanders place, and wisht he were

  Turnd to his place, so his place were Leander.

  Aye me (sayd she) that loves sweet life and sence

  Should doe it harme! my love had not gone hence,

  Had he been like his place. O blessed place,

  Image of Constancie. Thus my loves grace

  Parts no where but it leaves some thing behinde

  Worth observation: he renowmes his kinde.

  His motion is like heavens Orbiculer:

  For where he once is, he is ever there.

  This place was mine: Leander now t’is thine;

  Thou being my selfe, then it is double mine:

  Mine, and Leanders mine, Leanders mine.

  O see what wealth it yeelds me, nay yeelds him:

  For I am in it, he for me doth swim.

  Rich, fruitfull love, that doubling selfe estates

  Elixer- likecontracts, though separates.

  Deare place I kisse thee, and doe welcome thee,

  As from Leander ever sent to mee.

  The end of the third Sestyad.

  THE ARGUMENT OF THE FOURTH SESTYAD

  Hero, in sacred habit deckt,

  Doth private sacrifice effect.

  Her Skarfs description wrought byfate,

  Ostents, that threaten her estate.

  The strange, yet Phisicall events,

  Leanders counterfeit presents.

  In thunder, Ciprides descends,

  Presaging both the lovers ends.

  Ecte the Goddesse of remorce,

  With vocall and articulate force

  Inspires Leucote, Venus swan,

  T’excuse the beautious Sestian.

  Venus, to wreake her rites abuses,

  Creates the monster Eronusis;

  Enflaming Heros Sacrifice,

  With lightning darted from her eyes:

  And thereof springs the painted beast,

  That ever since taints every breast.

  Now from Leanders place she rose, and found

  Her haire and rent robe scattred on the ground:

 

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