The Complete Poetical Works of George Chapman

by George Chapman

  So many wealthy Temples, and these none?

  All were deuout then; all deuotions one;

  And to one end conuerted; and when men

  Giue vp themselues to God; all theirs goes then:

  A few well-giuen, are worth a world of ill;

  And worlds of Powre, not worth one poore good-will.

  And what’s the cause, that (being but one Truth) spreds

  About the world so manie thousand heads,

  Of false Opinions, all self-lov’d as true?

  Onely affection, to things more then due:

  One Error kist, begetteth infinite.

  How can men finde truth, in waies opposite?

  And with what force, they must take opposite wayes

  When all haue opposite obiects? Truth displaies

  One colourd ensigne; and the world pursues

  Ten thousand colours: see (to iudge, who vse

  Truth in their Arts;) what light their Hues doe giue:

  For wherefore doe they study, but to liue?

  See! Eternities streight milke-white waie,

  And One, in this lifes crooked vanities straie;

  And, shall I thinke he knowes Truth, following Error?

  This; onely this; is the infallible myrror,

  To showe, why Ignorants, with learn’d men vaunt,

  And why your learn’d men, are so ignorant,

  Why euery Youth, in one howre will be old

  In euery knowledge; and why Age doth mould.

  Then; As in Rules of true Philosophie

  There must be euer due Analogie

  Betwixt the Powre that knowes, and that is knowne,

  So surely ioynde that they are euer one;

  The vnderstanding part transcending still

  To that it vnderstands, that, to his skill;

  All, offering to the Soule, the Soule to God;

  (By which do all things make their Period

  In his high Powre; and make him, All in All;

  So, to ascend, the high-heauen-reaching Skale

  Of mans true Peace; and make his Art entire,

  By calming all his Errors in desire;

  (Which must preceede, that higher happinesse)

  Proportion still, must trauerse her accesse

  Betwixt his powre, and will; his Sense and Soule;

  And euermore th’exorbitance controule

  Of all forms, passing through the bodies Powre,

  Till in the soule they rest, as in their Towre.

  But; as Earths grosse and elementall fire,

  Cannot maintaine it selfe; but doth require

  Fresh matter still, to giue it heate, and light;

  And, when it is enflam’d; mounts not vpright;

  But struggles in his lame impure ascent;

  Now this waie works, and then is that waie bent,

  Not able, straight, t’aspire to his true Sphere

  Where burns the fire, eternall, and sincere;

  So, best soules here; with heartiest zeales enflam’d

  In their high flight for heauen; earth-broos’d and lam’d)

  Make many faint approches; and are faine,

  With much vnworthy matter, to sustaine

  Their holiest fire; and with sick feathers, driuen,

  And broken Pinions, flutter towards heauen.

  The cause is, that you neuer will bestowe

  Your best, t’enclose your liues, twixt God, and you;

  To count the worlds Loue, Fame, Ioy, Honour, nothing;

  But life, (with all your loue to it) betrothing

  To his loue; his recomfort; his rewarde;

  Since no good thought calls to him, but is heard.

  Nor neede you, thinke this strange; since he is there,

  Present: within you; euer, euerywhere

  Where good thoughts are; for Good hath no estate

  Without him; nor himselfe is, without That:

  If then, this Commerce stand twixt you entire;

  Trie, if he either, grant not each desire;

  Or so conforme it, to his will, in staie;

  That you shall finde him, there, in the delaie,

  As well as th’instant grant; And so prooue, right

  How easie, his deare yoke is; and how light

  His equall burthen: whether this Commerce

  Twixt God and man, be so hard, so peruerse

  (In composition); as, the Raritie,

  Or no-where-patterne of it, doth implie?

  Or if, in worthy contemplation

  It do not tempt, beyond comparison

  Of all things worldly? Sensualitie,

  Nothing so easie; all Earths Companie,

  (Like Rubarb, or the drugges of Thessalie)

  Compar’d, in taste with that sweet? O trie then

  If, that contradiction (by the God of men)

  Of all the lawe, and Prophets, layd vpon

  The tempting Lawyer; were a lode, that None

  Had powre to stand beneath? If Gods deare loue,

  Thy Conscience do not, at first sight approue

  Deare, aboue all things? And, so passe this shelfe;

  To loue (withall) thy Neighbour as thy selfe?

  Not, loue as much; but as thy selfe; in this,

  To let it be as free, as thine owne is;

  Without respect of profit, or reward,

  Deceipt, or flatterie; politique regard,

  Or anie thing, but naked Charitie.

  I call, euen God, himselfe; to testifie

  (For men, I know but fewe) that farre aboue

  All to be here desir’d; I rate his loue.

  Thanks to his still-kist-hand, that hath so fram’d

  My poore, and abiect life; and so, inflam’d

  My soule with his sweete, all-want-seasoning loue;

  In studying to supply, though not remoue,

  My desert fortunes, and vnworthinesse,

  With some wisht grace from him; that might expresse

  His presence with me; and so dignifie,

  My life, to creepe on earth; behold the skie,

  And giue it meanes enough, for this lowe plight;

  Though, hitherto, with no one houres delight,

  Heartie or worthie; but in him alone;

  Who, like a carefull guide, hath hal’d me on;

  And (euery minute, sinking) made me swimme,

  To this calme Shore; hid, with his Sonne, in him:

  And here, ay me! (as trembling, I looke back)

  I fall againe, and, in my hauen, wracke;

  Still being perswaded (by the shamelesse light)

  That these are dreames, of my retired Night;

  That, all my Reading; Writing; all my paines

  Are serious trifles; and the idle vaines

  Of an vnthriftie Angell, that deludes

  My simple fancie; and, by Fate, extendes

  My Birth-accurst life, from the blisse of men:

  And then; my hands I wring; my bosome, then

  Beate, and could breake ope; fill th’inraged Ayre;

  And knock at heauen, with sighs; inuoke Despaire,

  At once, to free the tyr’d Earth of my lode;

  That these recoiles, (that, Reason doth explode;

  Religion damns; and my arm’d Soule defies;

  Wrastles with Angels; telling Heauen it lies,

  If it denie the truth, his Spirit hath writ,

  Grauen, in my soule, and there eternisde it)

  Should beat me from that rest; and that is this;

  That these prodigious Securities

  That all men snore-in (drowning in vile Hues

  The Soules of men, because the bodie thriues)

  Are Witch-crafts damnable; That all learnings are

  Foolish, and false, that with those vile Hues square;

  That these sowre wizzards, that so grauely scorne

  Learning with good life; kinde gainst kinde suborne;

  And are no more wise, then their shades, are men;

  Wh
ich (as my finger, can goe to my Penne)

  I can demonstrate; that our knowledges,

  (Which we must learne, if euer we professe

  Knowledge of God; or haue one Notion true)

  Are those, which first, and most we should pursue;

  That, in their searches, all mens actiue Hues,

  Are so farre short of their contemplatiues;

  As Bodies are of Soules; This life, of Next:

  And, so much doth the Forme, and whole Context

  Of matter, seruing one; exceede the other;

  That Heauen, our Father is; as Earth our Mother.

  And therefore; in resemblance to approue,

  Who are the true bredde; fatherd by his loue;

  As Heauen it selfe, doth only, virtually

  Mix with the Earth; his Course still keeping hie,

  And Substance, vndisparag’d; (though his Beames

  Are dround in many dung-hils; and their Steames,

  (To vs) obscure him; yet he euer shines:)

  So though our soules beames, digge in bodies Mines,

  To finde them rich discourses, through their Senses;

  And meet with many myddins of offences,

  Whose Vapours choke their Organes; yet should they

  Disperse them by degrees; because their swaie

  (In Powre) is absolute; And (in that Powre) shine

  As firme as heauen; heauen, nothing so divine.

  All this, I holde; and since, that all truth else,

  That all else knowe, or can holde; staies and dwelles

  On these grounds vses; and should all contend

  (Knowing our birth here, serues but for this end

  To make true meanes, and waies, four second life)

  To plie those studies; and holde euery strife

  To other ends (more then to amplifie,

  Adorne, and sweeten these, deseruedly)

  As balls cast in our Race; and but grasse knitt

  From both sides of our Path; t’ensnare our wit:

  And thus, because, the gaudie vulgar light

  Burns vp my good thoughts, form’d in temperate Night,

  Rising to see, the good Moone oftentimes

  (Like the poore virtues of these vicious times)

  Labour as much to lose her light; as when

  She fills her waning horns; And how (like men

  Raisd to high Places) Exhalations fall

  That would be thought Starres; He retire from all

  The hot glades of Ambition; Companie,

  That (with their vainenesse) make this vanitie;

  And coole to death, in shaddowes of this vale:

  To which end, I will cast this Serpents skale;

  This loade of life, in life; this fleshie stone;

  This bond, and bundle of corruption;

  This breathing Sepulcher; this spundge of griefe;

  This smiling Enemie; this household-thiefe;

  This glasse of ayre; broken with lesse then breath;

  This Slaue, bound face to face, to death, till death;

  And consecrate my life, to you, and yours:

  In which obiection; if that Powre of Powers

  That hath reliev’d me thus farre; with a hand

  Direct, and most immediate; still will stand

  Betwixt me, and the Rapines of the Earth;

  And giue my poore paines, but such gratious birth,

  As may sustaine me, in my desert Age,

  With some powre, to my will; I still will wage

  Warre with that false Peace, that exileth you;

  And (in my pTayd for freedome) euer vow,

  Teares in these shades, for your teares; till mine eyes

  Poure out my soule in better sacrifise.

  Nor doubt (good friend) but God, to whom I see

  Your friendlesse life conuerted; still will be

  A rich supply for friends; And still be you

  Sure Conuertite to him. This, this way rowe

  All to their Countrie. Thinke how hee hath shew’d

  You wayes, and by wayes; what to bee pursew’d,

  And what auoyded. Still, in his hands be,

  If you desire to liue, or safe, or free.

  No longer dayes take; Nature doth exact

  This resolution of thee, and this fact:

  The Foe hay les on thy head; and in thy Face

  Insults, and trenches; leaues thee, no worlds grace;

  The walles; in which thou art besieged, shake.

  Haue done; Resist no more: but if you take

  Firme notice of our speech, and, what you see;

  And will adde paines to write all; let it be

  Divulged too. Perhappes, of all, some one

  May finde some good: But might it touch vpon

  Your gratious Princes liking; hee might doe

  Good to himselfe, and all his kingdomes too:

  So virtuous, a great Example is;

  And that, hath thankt, as small a thing as this;

  Here being stuffe, and forme, for all true Peace;

  And so, of all mens perfect Happinesse.

  To which, if hee shall lend his Princely eare,

  And giue commandement (from your selfe) to heare

  My state; tell him you know me; and that I,

  That am the Crowne of Principalitie,

  (Though thus cast off by Princes) euer vow

  Attendance at his foote; till I may growe

  Vp to his bosome; which (being deaw’d in time

  With these my Teares) may to my comforts clyme:

  Which (when all Pleasures, into Palseys turne,

  And Sunne-like Pomp; in his own clowds shal mourne)

  Will be acceptiue. Meane space I will pray,

  That hee may turne, some toward thought this way;

  While the round whirlewindes, of the earths delights

  Dust betwixt him and me; and blinde the sights

  Of all men rauisht with them; whose encrease

  (You well may tell him) fashions not true Peace.

  The Peace that they informe; learns but to squat,

  While the slye legall foe (that leuels at

  Warre, through those false lights) soudainly runs by

  Betwixt you, and your strength; and while you lye,

  Couching your eares; and flatting euerie lymme

  So close to earth, that you would seeme to him

  The Earth it selfe: yet hee knowes who you are;

  And, in that vantage, poures on, ready warre.

  CONCLVSIO.

  Thus, by the way, to humane Loues interring,

  These marginall, and secret teares referring

  To my disposure (hauing all this howre

  Of our vnworldly conference, giuen powre

  To her late-fainting issue, to arise)

  She raisde her selfe, and them; The Progenies

  Of that so ciuile Desert, rising all;

  Who fell with her; and to the Funerall

  (She bearing still the Coffine) all went on.

  And, now giues Time, her states description.

  Before her flew Affliction, girt in storms,

  Gasht all with gushing wounds; and all the formes

  Of bane, and miserie, frowning in her face;

  Whom Tyrannie, and Iniustice, had in Chace;

  Grimme Persecution, Pouertie, and Shame;

  Detraction, Enuie, foule Mishap and lame;

  Scruple of Conscience; Feare, Deceipt, Despaire;

  Slaunder, and Clamor, that rent all the Ayre;

  Hate, Warre, and Massacre; vncrowned Toyle;

  And Sickenes (fall the rest, the Base, and Foile)

  Crept after; and his deadly weight, trode downe

  Wealth, Beautie, and the glorie of a Crowne.

  These vsherd her farre of; as figures giuen,

  To showe, these Crosses borne, make peace with heauen:

  But now (made free from them) next her, before;

  Peacefull, and young, Herculean si
lence bore

  His craggie Club; which vp, aloft, hee hild;

  With which, and his forefingers charme hee stild

  All sounds in ayre; and left so free, mine eares,

  That I might heare, the musique of the Spheres,

  And all the Angels, singing, out of heauen;

  Whose tunes were solemne (as to Passion giuen)

  For now, that Iustice was the Happinesse there

  For all the wrongs to Right, inflicted here.

  Such was the Passion that Peace now put on;

  And on, all went; when soudainely was gone

  All light of heauen before vs; from a wood

  Whose sight, fore-seene (now lost) amaz’d wee stood,

  The Sunne still gracing vs; when now (the Ayre

  Inflam’d with Meteors) we discouerd, fayre,

  The skipping Gote; the Horses flaming Mane;

  Bearded, and trained Comets; Starres in wane;

  The burning sword; the Firebrand, flying Snake;

  The Lance; the Torch; the Licking fire; the Drake:

  And all else Metors, that did ill abode;

  The thunder chid; the lightning leapt abrode;

  And yet, when Peace came in, all heauen was cleare;

  And then, did all the horrid wood appeare;

  Where mortall dangers, more then leaues did growe;

  In which wee could not, one free steppe bestowe;

  For treading on some murtherd Passenger,

  Who thither, was by witchcraft, forc’t to erre,

  Whose face, the bird hid, that loues Humans best;

  That hath the bugle eyes, and Rosie Breast;

  And is the yellow Autumns Nightingall.

  Peace made vs enter here secure of all;

  Where, in a Caue, that through a Rocke did eate

  The monster, Murther, held his impious Seat:

  A heape of panting Harts, supported him;

  On which, he sate, gnawing a reeking lymme,

  Of some man newly murtherd. As he eate

  His graue-digg’d Browes, like stormy Eaues did sweat;

  Which, like incensed Fennes, with mists did smoke;

  His hyde was rugged, as an aged Oke

  With heathie Leprosies; that still hee fed

  With hote, raw lyms, of men late murthered.

  His Face was like a Meteor, flashing blood;

  His head all bristl’d, like a thornie wood;

  His necke cast wrinkles, like a Sea enrag’d;

  And, in his vast Armes, was the world engag’d,

  Bathing his hands in euerie cruell deed;

  Whose Palmes were hell-deepe lakes of boyling lead;

  His thighes were mines of poyson, torment, griefe;

  In which digg’d Fraude, and Trecherie, for reliefe;

  Religions Botcher, Policie; and Pride;

  Oppression, Slauerie, Flatterie glorified;