Lucasta [73]
and drawn by six caelestial minds, She armed was with innocence and fire, That did not burn; for it was chast desire; Whilst a new light doth gild the standers by. Behold! it was a day shot from her eye; Chafing perfumes oth' East did throng and sweat, But by her breath they melting back were beat. A crown of yet-nere-lighted stars she wore, In her soft hand a bleeding heart she bore, And round her lay of broken millions more;<85.6> Then a wing'd crier thrice aloud did call: LET FAME PROCLAIM THIS ONE GREAT PRISE FOR ALL.
By her a lady that might be call'd fair, And justly, but that Amoret was there, Was pris'ner led; th' unvalewed robe she wore Made infinite lay lovers to adore, Who vainly tempt her rescue (madly bold) Chained in sixteen thousand links of gold; Chrysetta thus (loaden with treasures) slave Did strow the pass with pearls, and her way pave.
But loe! the glorious cause of all this high True heav'nly state, brave Philamore, draws nigh, Who, not himself, more seems himself to be, And with a sacred extasie doth see! Fix'd and unmov'd on 's pillars he doth stay, And joy transforms him his own statua; Nor hath he pow'r to breath [n]or strength to greet The gentle offers of his Amoret, Who now amaz'd at 's noble breast doth knock, And with a kiss his gen'rous heart unlock; Whilst she and the whole pomp doth enter there, Whence her nor Time nor Fate shall ever tear. But whether am I hurl'd? ho! back! awake From thy glad trance: to thine old sorrow take! Thus, after view of all the Indies store, The slave returns unto his chain and oar; Thus poets, who all night in blest heav'ns dwell, Are call'd next morn to their true living hell; So I unthrifty, to myself untrue, Rise cloath'd with real wants, 'cause wanting you, And what substantial riches I possesse, I must to these unvalued dreams confesse.
But all our clowds shall be oreblown, when thee In our horizon bright once more we see; When thy dear presence shall our souls new-dress, And spring an universal cheerfulnesse; When we shall be orewhelm'd in joy, like they That change their night for a vast half-year's day.
Then shall the wretched few, that do repine, See and recant their blasphemies in wine; Then shall they grieve, that thought I've sung too free, High and aloud of thy true worth and thee, And their fowl heresies and lips submit To th' all-forgiving breath of Amoret; And me alone their angers object call, That from my height so miserably did fall; And crie out my invention thin and poor, Who have said nought, since I could say no more.
<85.1> Charles Cotton the younger, Walton's friend. He was born on the 28th of April, 1630. He married, in 1656, Isabella, daughter of Sir Thomas Hutchinson, of Owthorp, co. Notts, Knight. See Walton's ANGLER, ed. 1760, where a life of Cotton, compiled from the notes of the laborious Oldys, will be found. The poet died in 1687, and, two years later, his miscellaneous verses were printed in an octavo volume.
<85.2> i.e. the shadow of myself.
<85.3> A crime, from the Latin PIACULUM which, from meaning properly AN ATONEMENT, was afterwards used to express WHAT REQUIRED an atonement, i.e. an offence or sin.
<85.4> The sky in the early part of the morning, before it is clouded by mists.
<85.5> Phaeton.
<85.6> 0riginal reads, OF MILLIONS BROKEN MORE. The above is certainly preferable; but the reader may judge for himself. It should be borne in mind that the second part of LUCASTA was not even printed during the poet's life. If he had survived to republish the first portion, and to revise the second perhaps we should have had a better text.
ADVICE TO MY BEST BROTHER, COLL: FRANCIS LOVELACE.<86.1>
Frank, wil't live unhandsomely? trust not too far Thy self to waving seas: for what thy star, Calculated by sure event, must be, Look in the glassy-epithete,<86.2> and see.
Yet settle here your rest, and take your state, And in calm halcyon's nest ev'n build your fate; Prethee lye down securely, Frank, and keep With as much no noyse the inconstant deep As its inhabitants;
By her a lady that might be call'd fair, And justly, but that Amoret was there, Was pris'ner led; th' unvalewed robe she wore Made infinite lay lovers to adore, Who vainly tempt her rescue (madly bold) Chained in sixteen thousand links of gold; Chrysetta thus (loaden with treasures) slave Did strow the pass with pearls, and her way pave.
But loe! the glorious cause of all this high True heav'nly state, brave Philamore, draws nigh, Who, not himself, more seems himself to be, And with a sacred extasie doth see! Fix'd and unmov'd on 's pillars he doth stay, And joy transforms him his own statua; Nor hath he pow'r to breath [n]or strength to greet The gentle offers of his Amoret, Who now amaz'd at 's noble breast doth knock, And with a kiss his gen'rous heart unlock; Whilst she and the whole pomp doth enter there, Whence her nor Time nor Fate shall ever tear. But whether am I hurl'd? ho! back! awake From thy glad trance: to thine old sorrow take! Thus, after view of all the Indies store, The slave returns unto his chain and oar; Thus poets, who all night in blest heav'ns dwell, Are call'd next morn to their true living hell; So I unthrifty, to myself untrue, Rise cloath'd with real wants, 'cause wanting you, And what substantial riches I possesse, I must to these unvalued dreams confesse.
But all our clowds shall be oreblown, when thee In our horizon bright once more we see; When thy dear presence shall our souls new-dress, And spring an universal cheerfulnesse; When we shall be orewhelm'd in joy, like they That change their night for a vast half-year's day.
Then shall the wretched few, that do repine, See and recant their blasphemies in wine; Then shall they grieve, that thought I've sung too free, High and aloud of thy true worth and thee, And their fowl heresies and lips submit To th' all-forgiving breath of Amoret; And me alone their angers object call, That from my height so miserably did fall; And crie out my invention thin and poor, Who have said nought, since I could say no more.
<85.1> Charles Cotton the younger, Walton's friend. He was born on the 28th of April, 1630. He married, in 1656, Isabella, daughter of Sir Thomas Hutchinson, of Owthorp, co. Notts, Knight. See Walton's ANGLER, ed. 1760, where a life of Cotton, compiled from the notes of the laborious Oldys, will be found. The poet died in 1687, and, two years later, his miscellaneous verses were printed in an octavo volume.
<85.2> i.e. the shadow of myself.
<85.3> A crime, from the Latin PIACULUM which, from meaning properly AN ATONEMENT, was afterwards used to express WHAT REQUIRED an atonement, i.e. an offence or sin.
<85.4> The sky in the early part of the morning, before it is clouded by mists.
<85.5> Phaeton.
<85.6> 0riginal reads, OF MILLIONS BROKEN MORE. The above is certainly preferable; but the reader may judge for himself. It should be borne in mind that the second part of LUCASTA was not even printed during the poet's life. If he had survived to republish the first portion, and to revise the second perhaps we should have had a better text.
ADVICE TO MY BEST BROTHER, COLL: FRANCIS LOVELACE.<86.1>
Frank, wil't live unhandsomely? trust not too far Thy self to waving seas: for what thy star, Calculated by sure event, must be, Look in the glassy-epithete,<86.2> and see.
Yet settle here your rest, and take your state, And in calm halcyon's nest ev'n build your fate; Prethee lye down securely, Frank, and keep With as much no noyse the inconstant deep As its inhabitants;