Lucasta [70]
rage, Which his heart venome must asswage. One eye she hath spet out, strange smother, When one flame doth put out another, And one eye wittily spar'd, that he Might but behold his miserie. She on each spot a wound doth print, And each speck hath a sting within't; Till he but one new blister is, And swells his own periphrasis. Then fainting, sick, and yellow-pale, She baths him with her sulph'rous stale; Thus slacked is her Stygian fire, And she vouchsafes now to retire. Anon the toad begins to pant, Bethinks him of th' almighty plant, And lest he peece-meal should be sped, Wisely doth finish himself dead. Whilst the gay girl, as was her fate, Doth wanton and luxuriate, And crowns her conqu'ring head all or With fatal leaves of hellebore. Not guessing at the pretious aid Was lent her by the heavenly maid. The neer expiring toad now rowls Himself in lazy bloody scrowls, To th' sov'raign salve of all his ills, That only life and health distills. But loe! a terror above all, That ever yet did him befall!
Pallas, still mindful of her foe, (Whilst they did with each fires glow) Had to the place the spiders lar Dispath'd before the ev'nings star. He learned was in Natures laws, Of all her foliage knew the cause, And 'mongst the rest in his choice want Unplanted had this plantane plant.
The all-confounded toad doth see His life fled with his remedie, And in a glorious despair First burst himself, and next the air; Then with a dismal horred yell Beats down his loathsome breath to hell.
But what inestimable bliss This to the sated virgin is, Who, as before of her fiend foe, Now full is of her goddess too! She from her fertile womb hath spun Her stateliest pavillion, Whilst all her silken flags display, And her triumphant banners play; Where Pallas she ith' midst doth praise, And counterfeits her brothers rayes, Nor will she her dear lar forget, Victorious by his benefit, Whose roof inchanted she doth free From haunting gnat and goblin bee, Who, trapp'd in her prepared toyle, To their destruction keep a coyle.
Then she unlocks the toad's dire head, Within whose cell is treasured That pretious stone, which she doth call A noble recompence for all, And to her lar doth it present, Of his fair aid a monument.
<82.1> It will be seen that this poem partly turns on the mythological tale of Arachne and Minerva, and the metamorphosis of the former by the angry goddess into a spider (<>).
<82.2> i.e. CARAK, or CARRICK, as the word is variously spelled. This large kind of ship was much used by the Greeks and Venetians during the middle ages, and also by other nations.
<82.3> The poet rather awkwardly sustains his simile, and employs, in expressing a contest between the toad and the spider, a term signifying a naval battle, or, at least, a fight between two ships.
<82.4> Lovelace's fondness for military similitudes is constantly standing in the way, and marring his attempts at poetical imagery.
<82.5> A form of RAMPART, sanctioned by Dryden.
<82.6> Medicinal herb or plant.
<82.7> Blended.
<82.8> CAMPANIA may signify, in the present passage, either a field or the country generally, or a plain. It is a clumsy expression.
<82.9> In the sense in which it is here used this word seems to be peculiar to Lovelace. TO PICKEAR, or PICKEER, means TO SKIRMISH.
<82.10> So that.
THE SNAYL.
Wise emblem of our politick world, Sage Snayl, within thine own self curl'd, Instruct me softly to make hast, Whilst these my feet go slowly fast.
Compendious Snayl! thou seem'st to me Large Euclid's strict epitome; And in each diagram dost fling Thee from the point unto the ring. A figure now trianglare, An oval now, and now a square, And then a serpentine, dost crawl, Now a straight line, now crook'd, now all.
Preventing<83.1> rival of the day, Th' art up and openest thy ray; And ere the morn cradles the moon,<83.2> Th' art broke into a beauteous noon. Then, when the Sun sups in the deep, Thy silver horns e're Cinthia's peep; And thou, from thine own liquid bed, New Phoebus,
Pallas, still mindful of her foe, (Whilst they did with each fires glow) Had to the place the spiders lar Dispath'd before the ev'nings star. He learned was in Natures laws, Of all her foliage knew the cause, And 'mongst the rest in his choice want Unplanted had this plantane plant.
The all-confounded toad doth see His life fled with his remedie, And in a glorious despair First burst himself, and next the air; Then with a dismal horred yell Beats down his loathsome breath to hell.
But what inestimable bliss This to the sated virgin is, Who, as before of her fiend foe, Now full is of her goddess too! She from her fertile womb hath spun Her stateliest pavillion, Whilst all her silken flags display, And her triumphant banners play; Where Pallas she ith' midst doth praise, And counterfeits her brothers rayes, Nor will she her dear lar forget, Victorious by his benefit, Whose roof inchanted she doth free From haunting gnat and goblin bee, Who, trapp'd in her prepared toyle, To their destruction keep a coyle.
Then she unlocks the toad's dire head, Within whose cell is treasured That pretious stone, which she doth call A noble recompence for all, And to her lar doth it present, Of his fair aid a monument.
<82.1> It will be seen that this poem partly turns on the mythological tale of Arachne and Minerva, and the metamorphosis of the former by the angry goddess into a spider (<
<82.2> i.e. CARAK, or CARRICK, as the word is variously spelled. This large kind of ship was much used by the Greeks and Venetians during the middle ages, and also by other nations.
<82.3> The poet rather awkwardly sustains his simile, and employs, in expressing a contest between the toad and the spider, a term signifying a naval battle, or, at least, a fight between two ships.
<82.4> Lovelace's fondness for military similitudes is constantly standing in the way, and marring his attempts at poetical imagery.
<82.5> A form of RAMPART, sanctioned by Dryden.
<82.6> Medicinal herb or plant.
<82.7> Blended.
<82.8> CAMPANIA may signify, in the present passage, either a field or the country generally, or a plain. It is a clumsy expression.
<82.9> In the sense in which it is here used this word seems to be peculiar to Lovelace. TO PICKEAR, or PICKEER, means TO SKIRMISH.
<82.10> So that.
THE SNAYL.
Wise emblem of our politick world, Sage Snayl, within thine own self curl'd, Instruct me softly to make hast, Whilst these my feet go slowly fast.
Compendious Snayl! thou seem'st to me Large Euclid's strict epitome; And in each diagram dost fling Thee from the point unto the ring. A figure now trianglare, An oval now, and now a square, And then a serpentine, dost crawl, Now a straight line, now crook'd, now all.
Preventing<83.1> rival of the day, Th' art up and openest thy ray; And ere the morn cradles the moon,<83.2> Th' art broke into a beauteous noon. Then, when the Sun sups in the deep, Thy silver horns e're Cinthia's peep; And thou, from thine own liquid bed, New Phoebus,