Lucasta [72]
both his eyes: So having seen your dazling glories store, It is enough, and sin for to see more.
Or, do you thus those pretious rayes withdraw To whet my dull beams, keep my bold in aw? Or, are you gentle and compassionate, You will not reach me Regulus his fate? Brave prince! who, eagle-ey'd of eagle kind, Wert blindly damn'd to look thine own self blind!
But oh, return those fires, too cruel-nice! For whilst you fear me cindars, see, I'm ice! A nummed speaking clod and mine own show,<85.2> My self congeal'd, a man cut out in snow: Return those living fires. Thou, who that vast Double advantage from one-ey'd Heav'n hast, Look with one sun, though 't but obliquely be, And if not shine, vouchsafe to wink on me.
Perceive you not a gentle, gliding heat, And quick'ning warmth, that makes the statua sweat; As rev'rend Ducaleon's black-flung stone, Whose rough outside softens to skin, anon Each crusty vein with wet red is suppli'd, Whilst nought of stone but in its heart doth 'bide.
So from the rugged north, where your soft stay Hath stampt them a meridian and kind day; Where now each A LA MODE inhabitant Himself and 's manners both do pay you rent, And 'bout your house (your pallace) doth resort, And 'spite of fate and war creates a court.
So from the taught north, when you shall return, To glad those looks that ever since did mourn, When men uncloathed of themselves you'l see, Then start new made, fit, what they ought to be; Hast! hast! you, that your eyes on rare sights feed: For thus the golden triumph is decreed.
The twice-born god, still gay and ever young, With ivie crown'd, first leads the glorious throng: He Ariadne's starry coronet Designs for th' brighter beams of Amoret; Then doth he broach his throne, and singing quaff Unto her health his pipe of god-head off.
Him follow the recanting, vexing Nine Who, wise, now sing thy lasting fame in wine; Whilst Phoebus, not from th' east, your feast t' adorn, But from th' inspir'd Canaries, rose this morn.
Now you are come, winds in their caverns sit, And nothing breaths, but new-inlarged wit. Hark! One proclaims it piacle<85.3> to be sad, And th' people call 't religion to be mad.
But now, as at a coronation, When noyse, the guard, and trumpets are oreblown, The silent commons mark their princes way, And with still reverence both look and pray; So they amaz'd expecting do adore, And count the rest but pageantry before.
Behold! an hoast of virgins, pure as th' air In her first face,<85.4> ere mists durst vayl her hair: Their snowy vests, white as their whiter skin, Or their far chaster whiter thoughts within: Roses they breath'd and strew'd, as if the fine Heaven did to earth his wreath of swets resign; They sang aloud: "THRICE, OH THRICE HAPPY, THEY THAT CAN, LIKE THESE, IN LOVE BOTH YIELD AND SWAY."
Next herald Fame (a purple clowd her bears), In an imbroider'd coat of eyes and ears, Proclaims the triumph, and these lovers glory, Then in a book of steel records the story.
And now a youth of more than god-like form Did th' inward minds of the dumb throng alarm; All nak'd, each part betray'd unto the eye, Chastly: for neither sex ow'd he or she. And this was heav'nly love. By his bright hand, A boy of worse than earthly stuff did stand; His bow broke, his fires out, and his wings clipt, And the black slave from all his false flames stript; Whose eyes were new-restor'd but to confesse This day's bright blisse, and his own wretchednesse; Who, swell'd with envy, bursting with disdain, Did cry to cry, and weep them out again.
And now what heav'n must I invade, what sphere Rifle of all her stars, t' inthrone her there? No! Phoebus, by thy boys<85.5> fate we beware Th' unruly flames o'th' firebrand, thy carr; Although, she there once plac'd, thou, Sun, shouldst see Thy day both nobler governed and thee. Drive on, Bootes, thy cold heavy wayn, Then grease thy wheels with amber in the main, And Neptune, thou to thy false Thetis gallop, Appollo's set within thy bed of scallop: Whilst Amoret, on the reconciled winds Mounted,
Or, do you thus those pretious rayes withdraw To whet my dull beams, keep my bold in aw? Or, are you gentle and compassionate, You will not reach me Regulus his fate? Brave prince! who, eagle-ey'd of eagle kind, Wert blindly damn'd to look thine own self blind!
But oh, return those fires, too cruel-nice! For whilst you fear me cindars, see, I'm ice! A nummed speaking clod and mine own show,<85.2> My self congeal'd, a man cut out in snow: Return those living fires. Thou, who that vast Double advantage from one-ey'd Heav'n hast, Look with one sun, though 't but obliquely be, And if not shine, vouchsafe to wink on me.
Perceive you not a gentle, gliding heat, And quick'ning warmth, that makes the statua sweat; As rev'rend Ducaleon's black-flung stone, Whose rough outside softens to skin, anon Each crusty vein with wet red is suppli'd, Whilst nought of stone but in its heart doth 'bide.
So from the rugged north, where your soft stay Hath stampt them a meridian and kind day; Where now each A LA MODE inhabitant Himself and 's manners both do pay you rent, And 'bout your house (your pallace) doth resort, And 'spite of fate and war creates a court.
So from the taught north, when you shall return, To glad those looks that ever since did mourn, When men uncloathed of themselves you'l see, Then start new made, fit, what they ought to be; Hast! hast! you, that your eyes on rare sights feed: For thus the golden triumph is decreed.
The twice-born god, still gay and ever young, With ivie crown'd, first leads the glorious throng: He Ariadne's starry coronet Designs for th' brighter beams of Amoret; Then doth he broach his throne, and singing quaff Unto her health his pipe of god-head off.
Him follow the recanting, vexing Nine Who, wise, now sing thy lasting fame in wine; Whilst Phoebus, not from th' east, your feast t' adorn, But from th' inspir'd Canaries, rose this morn.
Now you are come, winds in their caverns sit, And nothing breaths, but new-inlarged wit. Hark! One proclaims it piacle<85.3> to be sad, And th' people call 't religion to be mad.
But now, as at a coronation, When noyse, the guard, and trumpets are oreblown, The silent commons mark their princes way, And with still reverence both look and pray; So they amaz'd expecting do adore, And count the rest but pageantry before.
Behold! an hoast of virgins, pure as th' air In her first face,<85.4> ere mists durst vayl her hair: Their snowy vests, white as their whiter skin, Or their far chaster whiter thoughts within: Roses they breath'd and strew'd, as if the fine Heaven did to earth his wreath of swets resign; They sang aloud: "THRICE, OH THRICE HAPPY, THEY THAT CAN, LIKE THESE, IN LOVE BOTH YIELD AND SWAY."
Next herald Fame (a purple clowd her bears), In an imbroider'd coat of eyes and ears, Proclaims the triumph, and these lovers glory, Then in a book of steel records the story.
And now a youth of more than god-like form Did th' inward minds of the dumb throng alarm; All nak'd, each part betray'd unto the eye, Chastly: for neither sex ow'd he or she. And this was heav'nly love. By his bright hand, A boy of worse than earthly stuff did stand; His bow broke, his fires out, and his wings clipt, And the black slave from all his false flames stript; Whose eyes were new-restor'd but to confesse This day's bright blisse, and his own wretchednesse; Who, swell'd with envy, bursting with disdain, Did cry to cry, and weep them out again.
And now what heav'n must I invade, what sphere Rifle of all her stars, t' inthrone her there? No! Phoebus, by thy boys<85.5> fate we beware Th' unruly flames o'th' firebrand, thy carr; Although, she there once plac'd, thou, Sun, shouldst see Thy day both nobler governed and thee. Drive on, Bootes, thy cold heavy wayn, Then grease thy wheels with amber in the main, And Neptune, thou to thy false Thetis gallop, Appollo's set within thy bed of scallop: Whilst Amoret, on the reconciled winds Mounted,