Chapter II: An Epigramme (5)

Hark! she is call'd, the parting houre is come; 1
Take thy farewell, poor World! Heaun must go home.
A peice of heau'nly earth; purer and brighter
Then the chast starres, whose choise lamps come to light her,
Whil'st through the crystall orbes, clearer then they 5
She climbes; and makes a farre more Milkey Way.
She's call'd! Hark, how the dear immortall Doue
Sighes to His syluer mate, 'Rise vp, my loue'!
Rise vp, my fair, my spotlesse one!
The Winter's past, the rain is gone; 10
The Spring is come, the flowrs appear,
No sweets, (save thou,) are wanting here.
Come away, my loue!
Come away, my doue!
Cast off delay; 15
The court of Heau'n is come
To wait vpon thee home;
Come, come away!
The flowrs appear,
Or quickly would, wert thou once here. 20
The Spring is come, or if it stay
'Tis to keep time with thy delay.
The rain is gone, except so much as we
Detain in needfull teares to weep the want of thee.
The Winter's past, 25
Or if he make lesse hast,
His answer is, why she does so,
If Sommer come not, how can Winter goe?
Come away, come away!
The shrill winds chide, the waters weep thy stay; 30
The fountains murmur, and each loftyest tree
Bowes low'st his leauy top, to look for thee.
Come away, my loue!
Come away, my doue &c.
She's call'd again. And will she goe? 35
When Heau'n bidds come, who can say no?
Heau'n calls her, and she must away,
Heau'n will not, and she cannot stay.
Goe then; goe, gloriovs on the golden wings
Of the bright youth of Heau'n, that sings 40
Vnder so sweet a burthen. Goe,
Since thy dread Son will haue it so.
And while thou goest, our song and we
Will, as we may, reach after thee.
Hail, holy queen of humble hearts! 45
We in thy prayse will haue our parts.
And though thy dearest lookes must now give light
To none but the blest heavens, whose bright
Beholders, lost in sweet delight,
Feed for ever their faire sight 50
With those divinest eyes, which we
And our darke world noe more shall see;
Though our poore eyes are parted soe,
Yet shall our lipps never lett goe
Thy gracious name, but to the last 55
Our loving song shall hold it fast.
Thy pretious name shall be
Thy self to vs; and we
With holy care will keep it by vs.
We to the last 60
Will hold it fast,
And no Assvmption shall deny vs.
All the sweetest showres
Of our fairest flowres
Will we strow vpon it. 65
Though our sweets cannot make
It sweeter, they can take
Themselues new sweetness from it.
Maria, men and angels sing,
Maria, mother of our King. 70
Live, rosy princesse, live! and may the bright
Crown of a most incomparable light
Embrace thy radiant browes. O may the best
Of euerlasting ioyes bath thy white brest.
Live, our chast loue, the holy mirth 75
Of Heau'n; the humble pride of Earth.
Liue, crown of woemen; queen of men;
Liue, mistresse of our song. And when
Our weak desires haue done their best,
Sweet angels come, and sing the rest. 80

NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS.

The heading in the SANCROFT MS. is 'On the Assumption of the Virgin Marie.' In line 5 it reads 'whil'st,' and so in line 43: line 7, 'againe th' immortal Dove:' line 12, our text (1652) reads 'but;' we prefer 'saue' of 1648 and the MS.: line 30, our text (1652) misprints 'heauy' for 'leavy' of 1648: line 42, the MS. reads 'great:' line 47, 'give' for 'be;' adopted: line 53, 'eyes' for 'ioyes;' adopted: line 57, 'sacred:' line 76, 'bragg:' line 77, '_praise_ of women, _pride_ of men.'

By an unaccountable inadvertence, our text (1652) omits lines 47-56. They are restored from 1648: they also appear in 1670. Line 18 in 1648 reads 'Come, come away:' in 1670 it is 'Come away, come away;' but this edition strangely, but characteristically, omits lines 19-34; and TURNBULL, following it, though pronounced by himself 'the most inaccurate of all' (Preliminary Observations, p. xi. of his edition), has overlooked them. Confer, for a quaint parallel with these lines (19-34), our JOSEPH FLETCHER. It may also be noted here that TURNBULL betrays his habitual use of his self-condemned text of 1670 by misreading in line 12, 'No sweets since thou art wanting here;' so converting the fine compliment into ungrammatical nonsense. Earlier also (line 3) he similarly reads, after the same text, 'light' for 'earth.' So too in line 7 he reads 'She's call'd again; hark! how th' immortall dove:' and line 42, for the favourite 'dread' of our Poet the weaker 'great,' as _supra_: and the following line 63 omits 'the:' line 64, 'our:' line 65 reads 'We'll:' line 76, 'and' for 'the.' On lines 9-10, cf. Song of Solomon, ii. 10-13. G.

UPON FIVE PIOVS AND LEARNED DISCOURSES:

BY ROBERT SHELFORD.[53]

Rise, then, immortall maid! Religion, rise! 1
Put on thy self in thine own looks: t' our eyes
Be what thy beauties, not our blots, have made thee;
Such as (ere our dark sinnes to dust betray'd thee)
Heav'n set thee down new drest; when thy bright birth 5
Shot thee like lightning to th' astonisht Earth.
From th' dawn of thy fair eyelids wipe away
Dull mists and melancholy clouds: take Day
And thine own beams about thee: bring the best
Of whatsoe're perfum'd thy Eastern nest. 10
Girt all thy glories to thee: then sit down,
Open this book, fair Queen, and take thy crown.
These learned leaves shall vindicate to thee
Thy holyest, humblest, handmaid, Charitie;
She'l dresse thee like thy self, set thee on high 15
Where thou shalt reach all hearts, command each eye.
Lo! where I see thy altars wake, and rise
From the pale dust of that strange sacrifice
Which they themselves were; each one putting on
A majestie that may beseem thy throne. 20
The holy youth of Heav'n, whose golden rings
Girt round thy awfull altars; with bright wings
Fanning thy fair locks, (which the World beleeves
As much as sees) shall with these sacred leaves
Trick their tall plumes, and in that garb shall go 25
If not more glorious, more conspicuous tho.
--------Be it enacted then,
By the fair laws of thy firm-pointed pen,
God's services no longer shall put on
Pure sluttishnesse for pure religion: 30
No longer shall our Churches' frighted stones
Lie scatter'd like the burnt and martyr'd bones
Of dead Devotion; nor faint marbles weep
In their sad ruines; nor Religion keep
A melancholy mansion in those cold 35
Urns: Like God's sanctuaries they lookt of old;
Now seem they Temples consecrate to none,
Or to a new god, Desolation.
No more the hypocrite shall th' upright be
Because he's stiffe, and will confesse no knee: 40
While others bend their knee, no more shalt thou,
(Disdainfull dust and ashes!) bend thy brow;
Nor on God's altar cast two scorching eyes,
Bak't in hot scorn, for a burnt sacrifice:
But (for a lambe) thy tame and tender heart, 45
New struck by Love, still trembling on his dart;
Or (for two turtle-doves) it shall suffice
To bring a pair of meek and humble eyes.
This shall from henceforth be the masculine theme
Pulpits and pennes shall sweat in; to redeem 50
Vertue to action, that life-feeding flame
That keeps Religion warm: not swell a name
Of Faith; a mountain-word, made up of aire,
With those deare spoils that wont to dresse the fair
And fruitfull Charitie's full breasts (of old), 55
Turning her out to tremble in the cold.
What can the poore hope from us, when we be
Uncharitable ev'n to Charitie?
Nor shall our zealous ones still have a fling
At that most horrible and horned thing, 60
Forsooth the Pope: by which black name they call
The Turk, the devil, Furies, Hell and all,
And something more. O he is Antichrist:
Doubt this, and doubt (say they) that Christ is Christ:
Why, 'tis a point of Faith. What e're it be, 65
I'm sure it is no point of Charitie.
In summe, no longer shall our people hope,
To be a true Protestant's but to hate the Pope.

NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS.

I have taken the text of this poem as it originally appeared, because in all the editions of the Poems wherein it is given the last ten lines are omitted. TURNBULL discovered this after his text of the Poems was printed off, and so had to insert them in a Postscript, wherein his genius for blundering describes Shelford's volume as 'Five ... _Poems_.' These slight variations may be recorded:

The title in all is 'On a Treatise of Charity.'

Line 12, 1648 has 'thy' for 'this.'

" 16, ib. 'shall' for 'shalt.'

" 17, all the editions 'off'rings' for 'altars.'

" 30, ib. 'A' for the first 'pure.'

" 36, our text misprints 'look' for 'look't.'

The poem is signed in Shelford's volume 'RICH. CRASHAW, Aul. Pemb. A.B.' It appeared in 'Steps' of 1646 (pp. 86-8), 1648 (pp. 101-2), 1670 (pp. 68-70). G.

DIES IRAE, DIES ILLA:

THE HYMN OF THE CHVRCH, IN MEDITATION OF THE DAY OF IVDGMENT.[54]

I.

Hear'st thou, my soul, what serious things
Both the Psalm and sybyll sings
Of a sure Iudge, from Whose sharp ray
The World in flames shall fly away.

II.

O that fire! before whose face
Heaun and Earth shall find no place.
O those eyes! Whose angry light
Must be the day of that dread night.

III.

O that trump! whose blast shall run
An euen round with the circling sun,
And vrge the murmuring graues to bring
Pale mankind forth to meet his King.

IV.

Horror of Nature, Hell, and Death!
When a deep groan from beneath
Shall cry, We come, we come, and all
The caues of Night answer one call.

V.

O that Book! whose leaues so bright
Will sett the World in seuere light.
O that Iudge! Whose hand, Whose eye
None can indure; yet none can fly.

VI.

Ah then, poor soul, what wilt thou say?
And to what patron chuse to pray?
When starres themselues shall stagger; and
The most firm foot no more then stand.

VII.

But Thou giu'st leaue (dread Lord!) that we
Take shelter from Thy self, in Thee;
And with the wings of Thine Own doue
Fly to Thy scepter of soft loue.

VIII.

Dear, remember in that Day
Who was the cause Thou cam'st this way.
Thy sheep was stray'd; and Thou wouldst be
Euen lost Thyself in seeking me.

IX.

Shall all that labour, all that cost
Of loue, and eu'n that losse, be lost?
And this lou'd soul, iudg'd worth no lesse
Then all that way, and wearyness.

X.

Iust mercy then, Thy reckning be
With my Price, and not with me;
'Twas pay'd at first with too much pain,
To be pay'd twice; or once, in vain.

XI.

Mercy (my Iudge), mercy I cry
With blushing cheek and bleeding ey:
The conscious colors of my sin
Are red without and pale within.

XII.

O let Thine Own soft bowells pay
Thy self; and so discharge that day.
If Sin can sigh, Loue can forgiue:
O say the word, my soul shall liue.

XIII.

Those mercyes which Thy Mary found,
Or who Thy crosse confes't and crown'd;
Hope tells my heart, the same loues be
Still aliue, and still for me.

XIV.

Though both my prayres and teares combine,
Both worthlesse are; for they are mine.
But Thou Thy bounteous Self still be;
And show Thou art, by sauing me.

XV.

O when Thy last frown shall proclaim
The flocks of goates to folds of flame,
And all Thy lost sheep found shall be;
Let 'Come ye blessed,' then call me.

XVI.

When the dread '_Ite_' shall diuide
Those limbs of death, from Thy left side;
Let those life-speaking lipps command
That I inheritt Thy right hand.

XVII.

O hear a suppliant heart, all crush't
And crumbled into contrite dust.
My hope, my fear! my Iudge, my Freind!
Take charge of me, and of my end.

NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS.

In st. vi. line 4, 'then' is = than, on which cf. our PHINEAS FLETCHER, as before: in st. xvi. line 1, '_Ite_' = 'go ye' of the Vulgate. 1670, st. ii. line 3, misprints 'these' for 'those:' st. viii. line 3, 'And Thou would'st be,' _i.e._ didst will to be,--not merely wished to be, but carried out Thy intent. G.

CHARITAS NIMIA, OR THE DEAR BARGAIN.[55]

Lord, what is man? why should he coste Thee 1
So dear? what had his ruin lost Thee?
Lord, what is man? that thou hast ouerbought
So much a thing of nought?

Loue is too kind, I see; and can 5
Make but a simple merchant-man.
'Twas for such sorry merchandise,
Bold painters haue putt out his eyes.

Alas, sweet Lord, what wer't to Thee
If there were no such wormes as we? 10
Heau'n ne're the lesse still Heau'n would be,
Should mankind dwell
In the deep Hell:
What haue his woes to doe with Thee?

Let him goe weep 15
O're his own wounds;
Seraphims will not sleep
Nor spheares let fall their faithfull rounds.
Still would the youthfull spirits sing;
And still Thy spatious palace ring; 20
Still would those beauteous ministers of light
Burn all as bright.

And bow their flaming heads before Thee:
Still thrones and dominations would adore Thee;
Still would those euer-wakefull sons of fire 25
Keep warm Thy prayse
Both nights and dayes,
And teach Thy lou'd name to their noble lyre.

Let froward dust then doe it's kind;
And giue it self for sport to the proud wind. 30
Why should a peice of peeuish clay plead shares
In the aeternity of Thy old cares?
Why shouldst Thou bow Thy awfull brest to see
What mine own madnesses haue done with me?

Should not the king still keepe his throne 35
Because some desperate fool's vndone?
Or will the World's illustrious eyes
Weep for euery worm that dyes.

Will the gallant sun
E're the lesse glorious run? 40
Will he hang down his golden head
Or e're the sooner seek his Western bed,
Because some foolish fly
Growes wanton, and will dy?

If I were lost in misery, 45
What was it to Thy Heaun and Thee?
What was it to Thy pretious blood
If my foul heart call'd for a floud?

What if my faithlesse soul and I
Would needs fall in 50
With guilt and sin;
What did the Lamb, that He should dy?
What did the Lamb, that He should need,
When the wolf sins, Himself to bleed?

If my base lust, 55
Bargain'd with Death and well-beseeming dust:
Why should the white
Lamb's bosom write
The purple name
Of my sin's shame? 60
Why should His vnstaind brest make good
My blushes with His Own heart-blood?

O my Saviovr, make me see
How dearly Thou hast payd for me,
That lost again my life may proue, 65
As then in death, so now in loue.

S. MARIA MAIOR.

Dilectus meus mihi, et ego illi, qui pascitur inter lilia. _Cant._
ii.

THE HIMN, O GLORIOSA DOMINA.[56]

Hail, most high, most humble one! 1
Aboue the world, below thy Son;
Whose blush the moon beauteously marres
And staines the timerous light of stares.
He that made all things, had not done 5
Till He had made Himself thy Son:
The whole World's host would be thy guest
And board Himself at thy rich brest.
O boundles hospitality!
The Feast of all things feeds on thee. 10
The first Eue, mother of our Fall,
E're she bore any one, slew all.
Of her vnkind gift might we haue
Th' inheritance of a hasty grave:
Quick-burye'd in the wanton tomb 15
Of one forbidden bitt;
Had not a better frvit forbidden it.
Had not thy healthfull womb
The World's new eastern window bin,
And giuen vs heau'n again, in giuing Him. 20
Thine was the rosy dawn, that spring the Day
Which renders all the starres she stole away.
Let then the aged World be wise, and all
Proue nobly here vnnaturall;
'Tis gratitude to forgett that other 25
And call the maiden Eue their mother.
Yee redeem'd nations farr and near,
Applaud your happy selues in her;
(All you to whom this loue belongs)
And keep't aliue with lasting songs. 30
Let hearts and lippes speak lowd; and say
Hail, door of life: and sourse of Day!
The door was shut, the fountain seal'd;
Yet Light was seen and Life reueal'd.
The door was shut, yet let in day, 35
The fountain seal'd, yet life found way.
Glory to Thee, great virgin's Son
In bosom of Thy Father's blisse.
The same to Thee, sweet Spirit be done;
As euer shall be, was, and is. Amen. 40

NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS.

The heading in 1648 is simply 'The Virgin-Mother:' in 1670 it is 'The Hymn, O Gloriosa Domina.'

Line 2, 1648 reads 'the Son.'

" 10, our text (1652) misprints 'the' for 'thee.'

Line 21, I follow here the text of 1648. 1652 reads

'Thine was the rosy dawn that sprung the day.'

and this is repeated in 1670 and, of course, by TURNBULL.

Line 26, 1648 has 'your' for 'their.'

" 35 is inadvertently dropped in our text (1652), though
the succeeding line (with which it rhymes) appears. I restore
it. 1670 also drops it; and so again TURNBULL!

Lines 43-44, 'Because some foolish fly.' This metaphorical allusion to the Fall and its results (as described by MILTON and others) is founded on the dying of various insects after begetting their kind. G.

HOPE.[57]

Hope, whose weak beeing ruin'd is 1
Alike if it succeed or if it misse!
Whom ill and good doth equally confound,
And both the hornes of Fate's dilemma wound.
Vain shadow; that dost vanish quite 5
Both at full noon and perfect night!
The starres haue not a possibility
Of blessing thee.
If thinges then from their end we happy call,
'Tis Hope is the most hopelesse thing of all. 10

Hope, thou bold taster of delight!
Who in stead of doing so, deuourst it quite.
Thou bringst vs an estate, yet leau'st vs poor
By clogging it with legacyes before.
The ioyes which we intire should wed 15
Come deflour'd-virgins to our bed.
Good fortunes without gain imported be
Such mighty custom's paid to thee
For ioy, like wine kep't close, doth better tast;
If it take air before, his spirits wast. 20

Hope, Fortun's cheating lottery,
Where for one prize, an hundred blankes there be.
Fond anchor, Hope! who tak'st thine aime so farr
That still or short or wide thine arrows are;
Thinne empty cloud which th' ey deceiues 25
With shapes that our own fancy giues.
A cloud which gilt and painted now appeares
But must drop presently in teares:
When thy false beames o're reason's light preuail,
By _ignes fatvi_ for North starres we sail. 30

Brother of Fear, more gaily clad,
The merryer fool o' th' two, yet quite as mad.
Sire of Repentance, child of fond desire
That blow'st the chymick's and the louer's fire.
Still leading them insensibly on 35
With the strong witchcraft of 'anon.'
By thee the one does changing nature, through
Her endlesse labyrinths pursue;
And th' other chases woman; while she goes
More wayes and turnes then hunted Nature knowes. 40