Chapter II: A Study of the Life and Poetry of Richard Crashaw (2)

The hush, the tranquil stillness of a church-aisle, within which 'sleep' old recumbent figures, comes over one in reading these most pathetically beautiful words. Of the whole poem, Dodd in his 'Epigrammatists' (as onward) remarks, 'after reading this Epitaph, all others on the same subject must suffer by comparison. Yet there is much to be admired in the following by Bishop Hall, on Sir Edward and Lady Lewkenor. It is translated from the Latin by the Bishop's descendant and editor, the Rev. Peter Hall (Bp. Hall's Works, 1837-9, xii. 331):

'In bonds of love united, man and wife,
Long, yet too short, they spent a happy life;
United still, too soon, however late,
Both man and wife receiv'd the stroke of fate:
And now in glory clad, enraptur'd pair,
The same bright cup, the same sweet draught they share.
Thus, first and last, a married couple see,
In life, in death, in immortality.'

There is much beauty also in an anonymous epitaph in the 'Festoon' 143, 'On a Man and his Wife:'

'Here sleep, whom neither life nor love,
Nor friendship's strictest tie,
Could in such close embrace as thou,
Their faithful grave, ally;
Preserve them, each dissolv'd in each,
For bands of love divine,
For union only more complete,
Thou faithful grave, than thine.' (p. 253.)

His 'Wishes to his (supposed) Mistresse' has things in it vivid and subtle as anything in Shelley at his best; and I affirm this deliberately. His little snatch on 'Easter Day' with some peculiarities, culminates in a grandeur Milton might bow before. The version of 'Dies Irae' is wonderfully severe and solemn and intense. Roscommon undoubtedly knew it. And so we might go on endlessly. His melody--with exceptional discords--is as the music of a Master, not mere versification. Once read receptively, and the words haunt almost awfully, and, I must again use the word, unearthlily. Summarily--as in our claim for Vaughan, as against the preposterous traditional assertions of his indebtedness to Herbert poetically, while really it was for spiritual benefits he was obligated--we cannot for an instant rank George Herbert as a Poet with Crashaw. Their piety is alike, or the 'Priest' of Bemerton is more definite, and clear of the 'fine mist' of mysticism of the recluse of 'Little St. Mary's;' but only very rarely have you in 'The Temple' that light of genius which shines as a very Shekinah-glory in the 'Steps to the Temple.' These 'Steps' have been spoken of as 'Steps' designed to lead into Herbert's 'Temple,' whereas they were 'Steps' to the 'Temple' or Church of the Living God. Crashaw 'sang' sweetly and generously of Herbert (vol. i. pp. 139-140); but the two Poets are profoundly distinct and independent. Clement Barksdale, probably, must bear the blame of foolishly subordinating Crashaw to Herbert, in his Lines in 'Nympha Libethris' (1651):

'HERBERT AND CRASHAW.

When unto Herbert's Temple I ascend
By Crashaw's Steps, I do resolve to mend
My lighter verse, and my low notes to raise,
And in high accent sing my Maker's praise.
Meanwhile these sacred poems in my sight
I place, that I may learn to write.'

(_c_) _Epigrams._ The title-page of the Epigr. Sacra of 1670 marks out for us their main dates; that is to say, as it designates him 'Collegii Petrensis Socius,' which he was not until 1637, the only portion that belongs to that period must be the additions made in the 1670 edition (see vol. ii. pp. 3-4). Dr. Macdonald (in 'Antiphon') observes: 'His Divine Epigrams are not the most beautiful, but they are to me the most valuable, of his verses, inasmuch as they make us feel afresh the truth which he sets forth anew. In them some of the facts of our Lord's life and teaching look out upon us as from clear windows of the Past. As epigrams, too, they are excellent--pointed as a lance' (p. 240). He limits himself to the 'English' Epigrams, and quotes after above, Nos. LIV. (2) and XI.; and continues with No. XIV., and next LIV. (1); on which he says: 'I value the following as a lovely parable. Mary is not contented; to see the place is little comfort. The church itself, with all its memories of the Lord, the Gospel-story, and all theory about Him, is but His tomb until we find Himself;' and he closes with one which he thinks is 'perhaps his best,' viz. No. I.[34] We too may give it:

'_Two went up into the Temple to pray._
Two went to pray! O, rather say,
One went to brag, th' other to pray.
One stands up close, and treads on high,
Where th' other dares not send his eye.
One neerer to God's altar trod;
The other to the altar's God.' (vol. ii. p. 35.)

The admiring critic on this proceeds: 'This appears to me perfect. Here is the true relation between the forms and the end of religion. The priesthood, the altar and all its ceremonies, must vanish from between the sinner and his God. When the priest forgets his mediation of a servant, his duty of a door-keeper to the temple of truth, and takes upon him the office of an intercessor, he stands between man and God, and is a satan, an adversary. Artistically considered, the poem could hardly be improved' (p. 241). 'Artistically,' nevertheless, it is a wonder Dr. Macdonald did not detect Turnbull's mis-reading of 'lend' for 'send' (l. 4). Bellew in his Poet's Corner reads 'bend,' which is equally poor for 'tendit.' There follows No. XLII., 'containing a similar lesson;' and finally No. XLV. p. 196, whereof he says: 'The following is a world-wide intercession for them that know not what they do. Of those that reject the truth, who can be said ever to have truly seen it? A man must be good to see truth. It is a thought suggested by our Lord's words, not an irreverent opposition to the truth of them' (p. 242).

Now that, besides the (relatively) few Epigrams which were translated by Crashaw himself, the whole are translated (for the first time), and now too that, exclusive of longer Latin poems, a goodly addition has been made by us to them, the reader will find it rewarding to turn and return on this remarkable section of Crashaw's poetry. Conceits there are, grotesque as gargoyles of a cathedral, oddities of symbolism, even passing into unconscious playing with holy words and things never to be played with; but each has a jewel of a distinct thought or sentiment, and often the wording is felicitous, albeit, as in all his Latin verse, not invariably without technical faults of quantity and even syntax. I had marked very many for specific criticism; but I must refrain. Our translation is perhaps a better commentary. To my co-workers and myself it has been a labour of love. I must close our notice of Crashaw as an Epigrammatist with some parallels from 'The Epigrammatists' of the Rev. Henry Philip Dodd, M.A. (1870). Under No. CXVII., 'On Pontius Pilate washing his hands,' he has this: 'In Elsum's Epigrams on Paintings, 1700, is one on a picture by Andrea Sacchi of Pilate washing his hands, translated from Michael Silos, De Romana Pictura et Sculptura' (Ep. 17):

'O cursed Pilate, villain dyed in grain,
A little water cannot purge thy stain;
No, Tanais can't do't, nor yet the main.
Dost thou condemn a Deity to death,
Him whose mere love gave and preserv'd thy breath?'

Similarly, under No. LI. 'On the Blessed Virgin's Bashfulness,' he has this: 'Some lines "To the Blessed Virgin at her Purification," by the old epigrammatist Bancroft, are almost as beautiful in sentiment as this exquisite piece (Book ii. 86):

Why, favourite of Heaven, most fair,
Dost thou bring fowls for sacrifice?
Will not the armful thou dost bear,
That lovely Lamb of thine, suffice?'

Of the exceptionally celebrated, not exceptionally superior Epigram on 'The Water turned Wine,' which somehow has been given by a perverse continued blunder to Dryden, Aaron Hill's masterly translation may be read along with those given by us in the place (vol. ii. pp. 96-7):

'When Christ at Cana's feast by pow'r divine
Inspir'd cold water with the warmth of wine;
See! cried they, while in red'ning tide it gush'd,
The bashful stream hath seen its God, and _blush'd_.'

Dryden's 'The conscious water saw its God, and blush'd,' is a mere remembrance of Crashaw.[35]

(_d_) _Translations and (briefly) Latin and Greek Poetry._ It may seem semi-paradoxical to affirm it, but in our opinion the genius of Crashaw shines with its fullest splendour in his Translations, longer and shorter. Even were there not his wonderful 'Suspicion of Herod' and 'Musick's Duell,' this might be said; for in his 'Dies Irae,' and 'Hymne out of Sainte Thomas,' and others lesser, there are felicities that only a genuine Maker could have produced. His 'Dies Irae' was the earliest version in our language. Roscommon and Scott alike wrote after and 'after' it. But it is on the two truly great Poems named we found our estimate. Turning to 'Musick's Duell,' as we ask the reader to do now (vol. i. 197-203), we have only to read critically the Latin of Strada, from whence it is drawn, to discern the creative gift of our Poet. Here it is:

Jam Sol a medio pronus deflexerat orbe
Mitius, e radiis vibrans crinalibus ignem.
Cum Fidicen, propter Tiberina fluenta, sonanti
Lenibat plectra curas, aestumque levabat,
Ilice defensus nigra scenaque virenti.
Audiit hunc hospes silvae Philomela propinquae
Musa loci, nemoris siren, innoxia siren;
Et prope succedens stetit abdita frondibus, alte
Accipiens sonitum, secumque remurmurat, et quos
Ille modos variat digitis, haec gutture reddit.
Sensit se Fidicen Philomela imitante referri,
Et placuit ludum volucri dare; plenius ergo
Explorat citharam, tentamentumque futurae
Praebeat ut pugnae, percussit protinus omnes
Impulsu pernice fides, nec segnius illa.
Mille per excurrens variae discrimina vocis,
Venturi specimen praefert argutula cantus.
Tunc Fidicen per fila movens trepidantia dextram,
Nunc contemnenti similis diverberat ungue,
Depectitque pari chordas, et simplice ductu:
Nunc carptim replicat, digitisque micantibus urget
Fila minutatim, celerique repercutit ictu.
Mox silet. Illa modis totidem respondet, et artem
Arte refert. Nunc seu rudis aut incerta canendi
Projicit in longum, nulloque plicatile flexu
Carmen init, simili serie, jugique tenore,
Praebet iter liquidum labenti e pectore voce;
Nunc caesim variat, modulisque canora minutis.
Delibrat vocem, tremuloque reciprocat ore.
Miratur Fidicen parvis e faucibus ire
Tam varium, tam dulce melos; majoraque tentans
Alternat mira arte fides; dum torquet acutas
Inciditque, graves operoso verbere pulsat,
Permiscetque simul certantia rauca sonoris,
Ceu resides in bella viros clangore lacessat.
Hoc etiam Philomela canit: dumque ore liquenti
Vibrat acuta sonum, modulisque interplicat acquis;
Ex inopinato gravis intonat, et leve murmur
Turbinat introrsus, alternantique sonore
Clarat, et infuscat ceu martia classica pulset.
Scilicet erubuit Fidicen, ...
Non imitabilibus plectrum concentibus urget.
Namque manu per fila volat, simul hos, simul illos
Explorat numeros, chordaque laborat in omni,
Et strepit, et tinnit, crescitque superbius, et se
Multiplicat religens, plenoque choreumate plaudit.[36]

It will be noted by the student that such word-painting as in these lines belongs to Crashaw, not Strada:

'and streightway she
_Carves out her dainty voyce as readily_.
. . . . .
Through the sleeke passage of her open throat
_A clear unwrinckled song_;
. . . . .
closes the sweet quarrell, rowsing all,
_Hoarce, shrill at once; as when the trumpets call
Hot Mars to th' harvest of Death's field, and woo
Men's hearts into their hands_:'
. . . . .
staggers in a warbling doubt
_Of dallying sweetnesse_, hovers o'er her skill,
_And folds in wav'd notes with a trembling bill_
. . . . .
a tide
Of streaming sweetnesse, _which in state doth ride
On the wav'd backe of every swelling straine,
Rising and falling in a pompous traine_.
. . . . .
Thus high, thus low, _as if her silver throat
Would reach the brazen voyce of War's hoarce bird_.

... his hands sprightly as fire, he flings
And with _a quavering coynesse tasts the strings_.
The sweet-lip't sisters, musically frighted,
Singing their feares, are fearefully delighted,
_Trembling as when Appolo's golden haires
Are fan'd and frizled, in the wanton ayres
Of his own breath: which marryed to his lyre_
Doth tune the spheares.
. . . . .
with nectar drop,
_Softer than that which pants in Hebe's cup_.
. . . . .
_The lute's light genius now does proudly rise,
Heav'd on the surges of swolne rapsodyes,_
. . . . .
_Creeps on the soft touch of a tender tone_.'

In the words of Willmott (as before), 'We shall seek in vain in the Latin text for the vigour, the fancy, and the grandeur of these lines. These remain with Crashaw, of whose obligations to Strada we may say, as Hayley [stupidly, if picturesquely] remarked of Pope's debt to Crashaw, that if he borrowed anything from him in this article, it was only as the sun borrows from the earth, when, drawing from thence a mere vapour, he makes it the delight of every eye, by giving it all the tender and gorgeous colouring of heaven' (vol. i. p. 323). The richness and fulness of our Poet as a Translator becomes the more clear when we place beside his interpretation of Strada the 'translations' of others, as given in the places (vol. i. pp. 203-6). A third (anonymous) version we discovered among the Lansdowne MSS. 3910, pt. lxvi., from which we take a specimen:

'Now the declininge sunn 'gan downward bende
From higher heauene, and from his locks did sende
A milder flame; when neere to Tyber's flowe
A Lutaniste allayde his carefull woe,
With sondinge charmes, and in a greeny seate
Of shady oake, toke shelter from the heate.

A nitingale ore-hard hym that did use
To soiourne in y^e neighbour groues, the Muse
That files the place, the syren of the wood:
Poore harmeles Syren, steling neere she stood
Close lurkinge in the leaues attentiuely:
Recordinge that vnwonted mellodye,
She condt it to herselfe, and every straine
His fingers playde, her throat return'd againe.'

And so to the end (MS. 3910, pp. 114-17). We have reserved until now incomparably the second, but only a far-off second, to Crashaw's, from John Ford's 'Lover's Melancholy' (1629); which probably was our Poet's guide to Strada. Here is the substance of the fine reminiscent version, from act i. scene 1:

_Menaphon._ A sound of music touched mine ears, or rather,
Indeed, entranced my soul. As I stole nearer,
Invited by the melody, I saw
This youth, this fair-faced youth, upon his lute,
With strains of strange variety and harmony,
Proclaiming, as it seemed, so bold a challenge
To the clear choristers of the wood, the birds,
That as they flocked about him all stood silent,
Wondering at what they heard. I wondered too.

_Amethus._ And do so I: good, on.

_Men._ A nightingale,
Nature's best-skilled musician, undertakes
The challenge, and for every several strain
The well-shaped youth could touch, she sung her own:
He could not run division with more art
Vpon his quaking instrument than she
The nightingale did with her various notes
Reply to: for a voice and for a sound,
Amethus, 'tis much easier to believe
That such they were, than hope to hear again.

_Ameth._ How did the rivals part?

_Men._ You term them rightly.
For they were rivals, and their mistress, Harmony.
Some time thus spent, the young man grew at last
Into a pretty anger, that a bird,
Whom art had never taught cliffs, moods, or notes,
Should vie with him for mastery, whose study
Had busied many hours to perfect practice.
To end the controversy, in a rapture,
Vpon his instrument he plays so swiftly
So many voluntaries, and so quick,
That there was curiosity and cunning,
Concord in discord, lines of differing method
Meeting in one full centre of delight.

_Ameth._ Now for the bird.

_Men._ The bird, ordained to be
Music's first master, strove to imitate
These several sounds; which when her warbling throat
Failed in, for grief down dropped she on his lute,
And brake her heart. It was the quaintest sadness,
To see the conqueror upon her hearse
To weep.[37]

Comment is needless on such pale, empty literality, as compared with the vitality and _elan_ of Crashaw, in all but Ford's; while even Ford's is surpassed in every way by the 'Musick's Duell.'

The 'Suspicion of Herod,' by Marino (c. i.), is a grand poem in the original. Milton knew it, and was taken by it. Our Poet had glorious materials whereon to work, accordingly, when he turned Translator of this all-too-little known Singer of Italy. But Crashaw's soul was more spacious, his imagination more imperial, his vocabulary wealthier, than even Marino's. The greatness and grandeur and force of the Italian roused the Englishman to emulation. Willmott (as before) has placed the original Italian beside Crashaw's interpretation, and the advance in the Translator on his original is almost startling. We prefer adducing Crashaw, and then giving a close rendering of the original: _e.g._

'He saw Heav'n blossome with a new-borne light,
_On which, as on a glorious stranger, gaz'd
The golden eyes of Night_.' (st. xvii.)

literally in Marino:

'_He sees also shining from heaven,
With beauteous ray, the wondrous star_,
Which, brilliant and beautiful, goes
Pointing the way straight towards Bethlehem.'

Again:

'He saw how in that blest Day-bearing Night,
The Heav'n-rebuked shades made hast away;
_How bright a dawne of angels with new light
Amaz'd the midnight world, and made a Day
Of which the Morning knew not_.' (st. xv.)

literally in Marino:

'He sees the quiet shades and the dark
Horrors of the happy, holy Night
Smitten and routed by heavenly voices,
And vanquished by angelic splendours.'

Once more: when Alecto, the most terrible of the infernal sisters, ascends to Earth at the command of Satan:

'Heav'n saw her rise, and saw Hell in the sight:
The fields' faire eyes saw her, and saw no more,
But shut their flowry lids for ever;' (st. xlviii.)

for

'Parvero i fiori intorno e la verdura
Sentir forza di peste, ira di verno;'

literally:

'soon as Hell had vomited out
This monster from the dark abyss,
_The flowers all around and the verdure appeared
To feel the strength of the plague, the fury of winter_.'

This naked simplicity of wording is very fine: yet do Crashaw's adornments bring new charm to Marino. The soliloquy of Satan, though close as the skin to the body, has a ruddiness (so-to-say) from Crashaw. Nothing in Milton is grander than st. xxv. to xxx.; and in all there are touches from the cunning hand of Crashaw: _e.g._

'_And for the never-fading fields of light;_' (st. xxvii.)

for Marino's

'Che piu puo farmi omai chi la celeste
_Reggia mi tolse, e i regni i miei lucenti_?'

literally:

'What more can He now do to me, Who took
_From me the heavenly palace and my bright realms_?'

Again:

'_Bow our bright heads before a king of clay;_' (st. xxviii.)

for Marino's

'Volle alle forme sue semplici e prime,
Natura sovralzar corporea e bassa,
E de' membri del ciel capo sublime
Far di limo terrestre eterna massa;'

literally:

'He turns to his simple primitive forms,
To raise Nature above the corporeal and low,
And to make an unworthy mass of earthly clay
The sublime head of the heavenly members.'

Compare also st. x. in Crashaw with the original as literally rendered:

'Disdainefull wretch, how hath one bold sinne cost
Thee all the beauties of thy once bright eyes!
How hath _one black eclipse cancell'd and crost
The glories that did gild thee in thy rise!
Proud morning of a perverse day_, how lost
Art thou unto thy selfe, thou too selfe-wise
Narcissus! foolish Phaeton, who for all
Thy _high-aym'd hopes, gaind'st but a flaming fall_.'

Literally in Marino:

'O wretched Angel, once fairer than light,
How thou hast lost thy primeval splendour!
Thou shalt have from the eternal Requiter
Deserved punishment for the unjust crime:
Proud admirer of thy honours,
Rebellious usurper of another's seat!
Transformed, and fallen into Phlegethon,
Proud Narcissus, impious Phaethon!'

Milton takes from Crashaw, not Marino, in his portrait of the Destroyer:

'From Death's sad shades to the life-breathing ayre
This mortall enemy to mankind's good
Lifts his _malignant eyes, wasted with care,
To become beautifull in humane blood_.' (st. xi.)

Literally in Marino:

'He from the shades of death to the living air,
Envious in truth of our human state,
Lifted aloft his eyes by where
The hollow vent-hole opened straight down.'

Well-nigh innumerable single lines and words are inevitably marked: _e.g._

'the rebellious eye
Of sorrow.' (st. xlix.)

So the eyes of Satan:

'the sullen dens of Death and Night
Startle the dull ayre with a dismal red;' (st. vii.)

for Marino's

'Negli occhi ove mestizia alberga e morte,
Luce fiammeggia torbida e vermiglia;'

literally:

'In the eyes where sadness dwells and death
A turbid vermilion-coloured light shines.'

Again: the sun is seen by the Tempter to

Make proud the ruby portalls of the East;' (st. xvi.)

for 'la Reggia Oriental.' Crashaw has the same vivid fancy in the Hymn for Epiphany:

'Aurora shall set ope
Her ruby casements.'

Finally, to show that even where our Translator keeps closest to the original, he yet gives the creative touches of which I have already spoken, read his st. v. beside this literal translation:

'Under the abysses, at the very core of the world,
In the central point of the universe,
Within the bowers of the darkest deep,
There stands the fiendly perverse Spirit:
With sharp thongs an impure group
Binds him with a hundred snakes athwart:
With such bonds girds him for ever,
The great champion who conquered HIM in Paradise.'

Thus we might go over the entire poem, and everywhere we should gather proofs that he was himself all he conceived in his splendid portraiture of the true Poet's genius:

'no rapture makes it live
Drest in the glorious madnesse of a Muse,
Whose feet can walke the Milky Way,
Her starry throne, and hold up an exalted arm
To lift me from my lazy urn and climbe
Upon the stooped shoulders of old Time,
And trace eternity.' (vol. i. p. 238.)[38]

Fully to estimate Crashaw's own grander imaginative faculty the Reader must study here the now-first-printed and very Miltonic poems on Apocalypse xii. 7 (Vol. II. pp. 231-3) and 'Christe, veni' (_ib._ pp. 223-5). It is profoundly to be regretted that our Poet should have limited himself to Book I. of the 'Strage degli Innocenti,' viz. 'Sospetto d'Herode.' Book VII. especially, 'Della Gerusalemme Distruta,' would have demanded all his powers. The entire poem was 'done in English,' and it is '_done_' (by T.R. 1675).

With reference to our own Translations of Crashaw, if in some instances we have enlarged on our original, and adventured to fill-in what in the Latin the Poet is fettered in uttering, may we apologise by pleading his own example as a Translator, though with unequal steps and far off? I would specify the very remarkable 'Bulla,' in which, indeed, I find Crashaw's highest of pure poetic faculty within the region of Fancy in its delicatest and subtlest symbolisms; also the scarcely less remarkable address 'To the Reader' ('Lectori'); and his 'Fides &c. &c.' and his classical legends of 'Arion,' and his University 'Laments' and 'Appeals' for Peterhouse. Throughout, my co-workers and myself have aimed to give the _thought_ of Crashaw; and, unless I egregiously mistake, we have together earned some gratitude from admirers of our Worthy.

I leave to other Scholars to deal critically with the Latin and Greek of these Poems and Epigrams now first translated. Read unsympathetically, I fear that very often his quantities and versification will be regarded as barbarous; but we have done something, it is believed, to neutralise Turnbull's most discreditable misprints herein, as in the English Poems. In the places (vol. ii. pp. 5-6, 244, and 332) we have recorded some of his more flagrant blunders; but besides we have silently corrected as many more of the original and early editions.

That Crashaw was not an accurate scholar the Greek Epigrams (as well as some of the Latin ones) furnish sufficient proof. Of the many obvious errors in quantity and construction, I have only corrected such as may have been mere oversights, some of them perhaps caused by his MS. having been misread; in other cases I have followed the original editions, and corrected the numerous errors made by Turnbull from his not being able to read the Greek ligatures &c. It may be well to indicate a few of the typical corrections that I felt obliged to make, and note other lapses which I did not feel justified in altering.

In XI. last line, {aperrhipton} for {aporrhipton}; CXXI. last line,
{een} for {ee}; CXXV. line 5. {kein'} for {kein}; CLXXX. line 1 has
{plane} as if the penult were long instead of short, and {alemi} an
unused form, so that the line offends both quantity and usage--it
might be amended thus, {Heis men ego, he mou te plane periegen,
alomai}; CLXXXII. line 1, {epeballen} for {epiballen}; CLXXXIII.
line 2, {sykomore} should be {sykomore}, but altered for scansion;
line 3, {ekkremnes} should perhaps be {ekkremnas}; line 4,
unscanable; and in CXXV. line 4, {dasiois} should be {dasesin}.
{ouranos}, the penult of which is short, he uses as either long or
short.

I must add, that the accentuation was as often wrong as right. I have carefully corrected it throughout. And this seems to me to be the only allowable way of reproducing Crashaw. An Editor cannot be held responsible for his Author writing imperfect Greek or Latin, any more than for his mistakes either in opinion or in matters-of-fact or taste.

Anderson's and Chalmers' Poets, and Peregrine Phillip's Selections, and Turnbull's edition in Russell Smith's 'Old Authors' and that in Gilfillan's Poets (a selection only), are our predecessors in furnishing Crashaw's Poetry. We confess to a feeling of just pride (shall we say?) in being the first worthily and adequately to present as remarkable Poetry, in its own region, as is anywhere to be found. RICHARD CRASHAW has assuredly not yet gathered all his fame.[39]

ALEXANDER B. GROSART.

Latin Poems.

PART FIRST. SACRED.

I.

EPIGRAMMATA SACRA.

(1634-1670.)

NOTE.

The earliest appearance of CRASHAW as a poet was in the University
Collections of Latin Verse on the (then) usual conventional
occasions of royal births and deaths, and the like. These pieces
will be found in their places in the present volume. The place of
honour herein we assign to his own published volume of 1634, of
which the following is the title-page, within a neat woodcut border:

EPIGRAM-

MATUM

SACRORUM

LIBER.

University Printer's ornament,
with legend, 'Hinc. Lvcem. Et.
Pocula. Sacra.' and 'Alma Mater.'

Cantabrigiae,
Ex Academiae celeberrimae
typographeo. 1634.

This is a small duodecimo. Collation: Title-page--Epistle-dedicatory
to LANY, with the poems, 'Salve, alme custos Pierii gregis,'
&c.--Venerabili viro Magistro Tournay, Tutori suo summe
observando--Ornatissimo viro Praeceptori suo colendissimo, Magistro
Brook--Lectori (verse and prose), seven leaves: Epigrammata Sacra,
pp. 79.

A second edition of this volume appeared in 1670. Its title-page is as follows:

RICHARDI CRASHAWI

POEMATA

et

EPIGRAMMATA,

Quae scripsit Latina & Graeca,
Dum _Aulae Pemb._ Alumnus fuit,
Et
Collegii _Petrensis_ Socius.

Editio Secunda, Auctior & emendatior.

{Heineken eumathies pinytophronos, hen ho Melichros
Eskesen, Mouson ammiga kai Chariton.} {Anthol.}

[Printer's ornament, as before.]

Cantabrigiae,
Ex Officina _Joan. Hayes_, Celeberrimae Academiae
Typographi. 1670.

This is an 8vo. Collation: Title-page--and to Brook, as before; then these additional Latin poems: In Picturam Reverendissimi Episcopi D. Andrews--Votiva Domus Petrensis pro Domo Dei--In caeterorum Operum difficili Parturitione Gemitus--Epitaphium in Gulielmum Herrisium--In Eundem--Natalis Principis Mariae--In Serenissimae Reginae partum hyemalem--Natalis Ducis Eboracensis--In faciem Augustiss. Regis a morbillis integram--Ad Carolum Primum, Rex Redux--Ad Principem nondum natum, Regina gravida. Bastard-title, 'Epigrammata Sacra, quae scripsit Graeca et Latina'--Lectori (as before), nine leaves: Epigrammata Sacra, pp. 67.

The additions to the second edition--besides the Latin poems enumerated--were in the Epigrams these: No. 1, Pharisaeus et Publicanus, Greek version--No. 11, Obolum Viduae, ib.--No. 53, Ecce locus ubi jacuit Dominus, ib.--No. 120, In descensum Spiritus sancti, ib.--No. 124, In S. Columbam ad Christi caput sedentem, ib.--No. 141, Ad D. Lucam medicum, ib.--No. 148, In stabulum ubi natus est Dominus, ib.--No. 161, Hic lapis fiat panis, ib.--No. 177, In die Ascensionis Dominicae, ib.--No. 178, Caecus implorat Christum, Latin and Greek--No. 179, Quis ex vobis, &c. ib.--No. 180, Herodi D. Jacobum obtruncati, ib.--No. 181, Caeci receptis, &c. ib.--and No. 182, Zaccheus in sycomoro.

A third edition was issued in 1674. It is identical with that of 1670, save in the date on title-page, printer's ornament, and this line at bottom: 'Prostant venales apud _Joann. Creed_.' Probably consisted of 'remainders' of 1670 edition.

As the edition of 1634 was published during the author's residence in the University, and so under his own eye, I have made it the basis of our text, though with a vigilant eye on the later corrections; but have given from the edition of 1670 the Greek versions of certain of the Epigrams, and those added (as above). The Epistle-dedicatory to Lany, and related introductory poems of 1634, alone, I prefix to the Epigrammata Sacra, assigning the other poems more fittingly to the Secular Poems (as annotated in the places). The Editor of the second edition, 'auctior et emendatior,' has not been transmitted. For more on the editions of the Epigrammata Sacra, see our Essay and Notes and Illustrations. As explained in our Prefatory Note, the translations of the Latin Poemata et Epigrammata, as of the others, follow the originals successively. A. denotes the translator to be THOMAS ASHE, M.A., Ipswich; B., CLEMENT BARKSDALE (from 'Epigrammata Sacra selecta, cum Anglica Versione. Sacred Epigrams Englished. London: Printed for John Barksdale, Bookseller in Cirencester. 1682.' 12mo); CL., Rev. J.H. CLARK, M.A., West Dereham, Norfolk; CR., CRASHAW himself; G., myself; W., Rev. W. ARIS WILLMOTT (from his 'Lives of the Sacred Poets,' s.n. Crashaw); and R. WI., Rev. RICHARD WILTON, M.A., Londesborough Rectory, Market Weighton. In the present and succeeding division those Epigrams translated by Crashaw himself are given under the related Latin--all from the original text of 1646, as before. They consist of Nos. 1, 2, 8, 9, 11, 14, 15, 20, 21, 26, 29, 36, 40, 42, 43, 47, 49, 51, 54 (two), 56, 57, 63, 64, 68, 85, 91, 93, 101, 104, 106, 108, 115, 117, 140, 157, 160, 164, 169, 184, and 185 in the present, and of Nos. 21, 22, 28, 42, 46, and 55 in next section.

It only remains that I add here, instead of noticing in their places, the following more flagrant errors of Turnbull in the 'Epigrammata' and related 'Poemata Latina et Graeca.' Similar lists will be found in the introductory notes to the several divisions of this volume.

In the Epistle to Lany, line 18, avidi _for_ avide; line 29, amore _for_ amare; in the Ode, st. ii. line 1, ipsi _for_ ipse. In the address 'Lectori,' line 7, abi _for_ alis; line 29, putre _for_ putri; line 48, mens _for_ meus; line 53, fingit _for_ finget; line 70, graves _for_ gravis; line 97, tota dropped out; line 120, negat _for_ neget; in succeeding prose, line 29, Acygmanos _for_ acygnianos.

The misprints in the Epigrammata are so numerous, that it is deemed expedient to tabulate them according to our numbering. On the errors in the Greek, see our Preface to the present Volume.

No.

1, line 4, ille _for_ hic.

2, heading, Victorem _for_ vectorem.

3, l. 1, ori _for_ oris.

6, l. 2, meae _for_ mea.

7, l. 4, tanto _for_ tanti.

8, l. 1, vulnere _for_ vulnera.

10, l. 1, tumidus _for_ timidus.

12, heading, Luc. x. 30 _for_ x. 39; and so often.

19, l. 4, decas _for_ decus.

30, l. 3, Te ne _for_ Tene.

31, heading, credebunt _for_ credebant.

44, l. 1, tumere _for_ tenuere.

45, l. 2, mala _for_ male.

48, l. 1, Christe _for_ Christi.

60, l. 4, fecere _for_ fuere.

65, l. 7, adnixus _for_ ad nixus.

67, l. 1, Infantes _for_ infantis.

69, heading, meditur _for_ medetur.

78, l. 2, pati _for_ peti.

101, l. 4, aqua _for_ aquas.

108, l. 8, oculos _for_ oculus.

111, l. 3, natalis _for_ natales.

114, l. 2, utere _for_ uteri.

115, l. 4, queas _for_ queat.

120, heading, Domini _for_ Dominicam.

" l. 6, Phoebe _for_ Phoebo.

122, heading, traduit _for_ traderet.

123, l. 2, nescis _for_ nescio.

125, l. 1, volueris _for_ volucris.

126, heading, Divi _for_ Divo.

132, heading, Christo _for_ Christi.

135, heading left out.

140, l. 2, illa _for_ ille.

149, l. 2, quae _for_ qua.

153, l. 3, colubres _for_ colubros.

155, heading, Domini _for_ Dominicae.

158, l. 3, par _for_ per.

161, l. 8, fieris _for_ fieres.

" l. 12, solis _for_ solio.

164, l. 1, Daemone _for_ Daemona.

169, heading, lavante _for_ lavanti.

" l. 2, virginea _for_ virgineae.

170, l. 5, decies _for_ denis.

172, l. 1, vidis _for_ vides.

176, l. 16, dominum _for_ dominam.

" l. 73, ista _for_ iste.

177, l. 20, metu _for_ nutu.

182, l. 2, fide _for_ fida.

The whole of these, with others belonging to Crashaw himself and his first editors, are carefully corrected in our edition. G.

REVERENDO ADMODUM VIRO

BENJAMINO LANY,[40]

SS. THEOLOGIAE PROFESSORI, AULAE PEMBROCHIANAE CUSTODI DIGNISSIMO, EX SUORUM MINIMIS MINIMUS,

R. C[RASHAW]

CUSTODIAM COELESTEM

P.

Suus est et florum fructus; quibus fruimur, si non utilius, delicatius certe. Neque etiam rarum est quod ad spem Veris, de se per flores suos quasi pollicentis, adultioris anni, ipsiusque adeo Autumni exigamus fidem. Ignoscas igitur, vir colendissime, properanti sub ora Apollinis sui, primaeque adolescentiae lascivia exultanti Musae. Tenerae aetatis flores adfert, non fructus serae: quos quidem exigere ad seram illam et sobriam maturitatem, quam in fructibus expectamus merito, durum fuerit; forsan et ipsa hac praecoci importunitate sua placituros magis: tibi praesertim quem paternus animus, quod fieri solet, intentum tenet omni suae spei diluculo, quo tibi de tuorum indole promittas aliquid. Ex more etiam eorum, qui in praemium laboris sui pretiumque patientiae festini, ex iis quae severunt ipsi et excoluerunt, quicquid est flosculi prominulum, prima quasi verecundia auras et apertum Jovem experientis arripiunt avide, saporemque illi non tam ex ipsius indole et ingenio quam ex animi sui affectu, foventis in eo curas suas et spes, affingunt. Patere igitur, reverende custos, hanc tibi ex istiusmodi floribus corollam necti; convivalem vero: nec aliter passuram sidus illud oris tui auspicatissimum, nisi, qua est etiam amoenitate, remissiore radio cum se reclinat, et in tantum de se demit. Neque sane hoc scriptionis genere, modo partes suas satis praestiterit, quid esse potuit otio theologico accommodatius, quo nimirum res ipsa theologica poetica amoenitate delinita majestatem suam venustate commendat. Hoc demum quicquid est, amare tamen poteris, et voles, scio: non ut magnum quid, non ut egregium, non ut te dignum denique, sed ut tuum: tuum summo jure, utpote quod e tua gleba, per tuum radium, in manum denique tuam evocatum fuerit. Quod restat hujus libelli fatis, exorandus es igitur, vir spectatissime, ut quem sinu tum facili privatum excepisti, eum jam ore magis publico alloquentem te non asperneris. Stes illi in limine, non auspicium modo suum, sed et argumentum. Enimvero Epigramma sacrum tuus ille vultus vel est, vel quid sit docet; ubi nimirum amabili diluitur severum, et sanctum suavi demulcetur. Pronum me vides in negatam mihi provinciam; laudum tuarum, intelligo: quas mihi cum modestia tua abstulerit, reliquum mihi est necessario ut sim brevis; imo vero longus nimium; utpote cui argumentum istud abscissum fuerit, in quo unice poteram, et sine taedio, prolixus esse. Vale, virorum ornatissime, neque dedigneris quod colere audeam Genii tui serenitatem supplex tam tenuis, et, quoniam numen quoque hoc de se non negat, amare etiam. Interim vero da veniam Musae in tantum sibi non temperanti; quin in hanc saltem laudis tuae partem, quae tibi ex rebus sacris apud nos ornatis meritissima est, istiusmodi carmine involare ausa sit, qualicunque:

Salve, alme custos Pierii gregis,
Per quem erudito exhalat in otio;
Seu frigus udi captet antri,
Sive Jovem nitidosque soles.

Non ipse custos pulchrior invias
Egit sub umbras Aemonios greges;
Non ipse Apollo notus illis
Lege suae meliore cannae.

Tu, si sereno des oculo frui,
Sunt rura nobis, sunt juga, sunt aquae,
Sunt plectra dulcium sororum
(Non alio mihi nota Phoebo).

Te dante, castos composuit sinus;
Te dante, mores sumpsit; et in suo
Videnda vultu, pulveremque
Relligio cineremque nescit.

Stat cincta digna fronde decens caput:
Suosque per te fassa palam Deos,
Comisque, Diva, vestibusque
Ingenium dedit ordinemque.

Jamque ecce nobis amplior es modo
Majorque cerni. Quale jubar tremit
Sub os! verecundusque quanta
Mole sui Genius laborat!

Jam qui serenas it tibi per genas,
Majore coelo sidus habet suum;
Majorque circum cuspidatae
Ora comis tua flos diei.

Stat causa. Nempe hanc ipse Deus, Deus,
Hanc ara, per te pulchra, diem tibi
Tuam refundit, obvioque
It radio tibi se colenti.

Ecce, ecce! sacro in limine, dum pio
Multumque prono poplite amas humum,
Altaria annuunt ab alto;
Et refluis tibi plaudit alis

Pulchro incalescens officio, puer
Quicunque crispo sidere crinium,
Vultuque non fatente terram,
Currit ibi roseus satelles.

Et jure. Nam cum fana tot inviis
Moerent ruinis, ipsaque, ceu preces
Manusque non decora supplex
Tendat, opem rogat, heu negatam!

Tibi ipsa voti est ora sui rea.
Et solvet. O quam semper apud Deum
Litabis illum, cujus arae
Ipse preces prius audiisti!

[TRANSLATION. Prose G.; verse CL.]

_To the very reverend man_ BENJAMIN LANY, _Doctor of Divinity, most
worthy Master of Pembroke College [Cambridge], the least of the
least of those that are his, R[ichard] C[rashaw] implores the divine
protection._[41]

Even flowers have their own peculiar fruit, which we enjoy, if not so profitably, yet in a manner more refined. Nor is it unusual that, in accordance with the hope of Spring, making promises for herself as it were by her flowers, we demand credit for the maturer year, and even for Autumn itself. Forgive, then, most Reverend Sir, the Muse hastening into the presence of her Apollo, and exulting in the wantonness of earliest youth. She offers the flowers of a tender age, not the fruits of a late one, which flowers indeed it were unreasonable to demand in accordance with that late and sober maturity which we rightly look for in fruits--flowers which are more likely to be pleasing from the very fact of their precocious importunity,--to thee above all, whom a fatherly mind, as it is wont to happen, holds watching for every dawning of its hope, by which you may give yourself assurance of anything respecting the genius of your sons; after the manner also of those who, in haste for the reward of their labour and the price of their patience, from what they have themselves sown and tended, snatch greedily whatever part may project a little of a floweret, which, as with early bashfulness, is making trial of the airs and the open sky, and attach an odour to it, not so much from its own nature and character as from the inclination of their own mind, which fosters in it their own anxieties and hopes. Suffer then, Reverend Master, this little garland, made of flowers of such a sort, to be bound on thee; a festal one assuredly, and not able to endure that most auspicious star of thy countenance in any other way than--for it is even of such a graciousness--when it draws back with milder ray, and so far subtracts from itself. Nor assuredly than this kind of writing, provided it have sufficiently discharged its proper functions, could anything be more suitable to theological leisure; for in it without doubt the very substance of theology being overlaid with poetic grace, sets off its grandeur by loveliness. Finally, whatever this may be, you will nevertheless, I know, be able and willing to be lovingly disposed towards it; not as anything great or uncommon; not, in short, as anything worthy of you, but as your own--your own by highest right as having been called forth from your soil, by your light, and, in fine, into your hand. As for what fortune awaits this little book, deign to be persuaded, most worshipful Sir, not to scorn when addressing you now in a more public style him whom you have welcomed in private with so ready an affection. May you stand on its threshold, not only as its good omen but also as its subject! In very truth that countenance of yours is a Sacred Epigram, or teaches what it should be, where forsooth severity is tempered with love, and sanctity is mellowed by sweetness. You see me inclined towards a sphere denied to me--that of sounding your praises, I mean; which since your modesty has taken from me, it remains of necessity that I should be brief: yes indeed, I am too diffuse, seeing that the very subject is cut off from me in which alone I was, and even without irksomeness, able to be prolix. Farewell, most cultured of men, and do not disdain me, so insignificant a suppliant, for daring to honour your tranquil genius, and, since divinity even does not forbid this respecting itself, also to love it. But in the mean while give pardon to the Muse, to such a degree unrestrained as to have dared for this part at least of your praise, which is most due to you on account of sacred things that have been honoured amongst us, to fly towards you with a strain of such kind as this, whatever it may be:

Kind Guardian of the Muses' flock,
Through whom it breathes in learn'd repose,
Whether it choose the dripping rock,
Or where the open sunshine glows.

Not fairer he through trackless shade
Who led Aemonia's flocks of old;
Not even Apollo, when he play'd,
With defter touch could charm the fold.

If thou the eye serene dost grant,
Green fields are ours, and streams and hills,
And, since no Phoebus else we want,
The Muses with their dulcet quills.

Religion too with modest grace
Through thee assumes a gentler mien;
Through thee again can show her face,
No more in dust and ashes seen.

Her brows crown'd meetly, and, through thee,
Her God in sight of all confess'd,
She gives in her divinity
Meaning and law to garb and vest.

Lo, while we gaze, an ample state
Adorns thee; what a lustrous sheen
Plays on thy lips! with what a weight
Thy reverent Genius toils within!

For him on whom thy calm glance flows
His star sheds down a fuller ray;
The light that o'er thine aspect glows
Is brighter than the shafts of Day.

And there is cause. The Lord of heaven,
Whose altar thou hast made so fair,
Pours back the light that thou hast given,
With glory meets His worshipper.

Lo, on the threshold of thy God
While thou dost stoop on bended knee,
The altar from on high doth nod,
Its plausive wings are bent to thee.

And, glowing with his duty's worth,
Each starry-tressed chorister
With look that savours not of earth
Tends like a rosy cherub there.

And rightly. For, when ruin-wreck'd,
With prayers and outstretch'd hands the fane
Bemoan'd itself in all neglect,
And sought elsewhere for help in vain,--

To thee by its own vows 'tis bound,
And now repays thee. At the shrine
Whose cry so well thy ears hath found
Long, long may prayer and praise be thine!

LECTORI.

Salve. Jamque vale. Quid enim quis pergeret ultra?
Qua jocus et lusus non vocat, ire voles?
Scilicet hic, Lector, cur noster habebere, non est;
Deliciis folio non faciente tuis.
Nam nec Acidalios halat mihi pagina rores;
Nostra Cupidineae nec favet aura faci.
Frustra hinc ille suis quicquam promiserit alis:
Frustra hinc illa novo speret abire sinu.
Ille e materna melius sibi talia myrto;
Illa jugis melius poscat ab Idaliis.
Quaerat ibi suus in quo cespite surgat Adonis,
Quae melior teneris patria sit violis.
Illinc totius Florae, verisque, suique
Consilio, ille alas impleat, illa sinus.
Me mea, casta tamen, si sit rudis, herba coronet:
Me mea, si rudis est, sit rudis, herba juvat.
Nulla meo Circaea tument tibi pocula versu:
Dulcia, et in furias officiosa tuas.
Nulla latet Lethe, quam fraus tibi florea libat,
Quam rosa sub falsis dat malefida genis.
Nulla verecundum mentitur mella venenum:
Captat ab insidiis linea nulla suis.
Et spleni, et jecori foliis bene parcitur istis.
Ah, male cum rebus staret utrumque meis!
Rara est quae ridet, nulla est quae pagina prurit,
Nulla salax, si quid norit habere salis.
Non nudae Veneres, nec, si jocus, udus habetur:
Non nimium Bacchus noster Apollo fuit.
Nil cui quis putri sit detorquendus ocello;
Est nihil obliquo quod velit ore legi.
Haec coram atque oculis legeret Lucretia justis;
Iret et illaesis hinc pudor ipse genis.
Nam neque candidior voti venit aura pudici
De matutina virgine thura ferens:
Cum vestis nive vincta sinus, nive tempora fulgens,
Dans nive flammeolis frigida jura comis,
Religiosa pedum sensim vestigia librans,
Ante aras tandem constitit, et tremuit.
Nec gravis ipsa suo sub numine castior halat
Quae pia non puras summovet ara manus.
Tam Venus in nostro non est nimis aurea versu:
Tam non sunt pueri tela timenda dei.
Saepe puer dubias circum me moverat alas,
Jecit et incertas nostra sub ora faces;
Saepe vel ipse sua calamum mihi blandus ab ala,
Vel matris cygno de meliore dedit;
Saepe Dionaeae pactus mihi serta coronae;
Saepe: Meus vates tu, mihi dixit, eris.
I procul, i cum matre tua, puer improbe, dixi:
Non tibi cum numeris res erit ulla meis.
Tu Veronensi cum passere pulchrior ibis:
Bilbilicisve queas comptius esse modis.
Ille tuos finget quocunque sub agmine crines:
Undique nequitiis par erit ille tuis.
Ille nimis, dixi, patet in tua proelia campus:
Heu, nimis est vates et nimis ille tuus!
Gleba illa, ah, tua quam tamen urit adultera messis!
Esset Idumaeo germine quanta parens!
Quantus ibi et quantae premeret puer ubera matris!
Nec coelos vultu dissimulante suos.
Ejus in isto oculi satis essent sidera versu;
Sidereo matris quam bene tuta sinu!
Matris ut hic similes in collum mitteret ulnas,
Inque sinus niveos pergeret, ore pari;
Utque genis pueri haec aequis daret oscula labris,
Et bene cognatis iret in ora rosis;
Quae Mariae tam larga meat, quam disceret illic
Uvida sub pretio gemma tumere suo!
Staret ibi ante suum lacrymatrix Diva Magistrum:
Seu levis aura volet, seu gravis unda cadat;
Luminis haec soboles, et proles pyxidis illa,
Pulchrius unda cadat, suavius aura volet.
Quicquid in his sordet demum, luceret in illis.
Improbe, nec satis est hunc tamen esse tuum?
Improbe, cede, puer: quid enim mea carmina mulces?
Carmina de jaculis muta futura tuis.
Cede, puer, qua te petulantis fraena puellae;
Turpia quae revocant pensa procacis herae;
Qua miseri male pulchra nitent mendacia limi;
Qua cerussatae, furta decora, genae;
Qua mirere rosas, alieni sidera veris;
Quas nivis haud propriae bruma redempta domat.
Cede, puer, dixi et dico; cede, improba mater:
Altera Cypris habet nos; habet alter Amor.
Scilicet hic Amor est; hic est quoque mater Amoris.
Sed Mater virgo; sed neque caecus Amor.
O Puer! o Domine! o magnae reverentia Matris,
Alme tui stupor et relligio gremii!
O Amor, innocuae cui sunt pia jura pharetrae,
Nec nisi de casto corde sagitta calens!
Me, Puer, o certa, quem figis, fige sagitta;
O tua de me sit facta pharetra levis!
Quodque illinc sitit et bibit, et bibit et sitit usque;
Usque meum sitiat pectus, et usque bibat.
Fige, Puer, corda haec. Seu spinis exiguus quis,
Seu clavi aut hastae cuspide magnus ades;
Seu major cruce cum tota; seu maximus ipso
Te corda haec figis denique; fige, Puer.
O metam hanc tuus aeternum inclamaverit arcus:
Stridat in hanc teli densior aura tui.
O tibi si jaculum ferat ala ferocior ullum,
Hanc habeat triti vulneris ire viam.
Quique tuae populus cunque est, quae turba, pharetrae;
Hic bene vulnificas nidus habebit aves.
O mihi sis bello semper tam saevus in isto!
Pectus in hoc nunquam mitior hostis eas.
Quippe ego quam jaceam pugna bene sparsus in illa!
Quam bene sic lacero pectore sanus ero!
Haec mea vota. Mei sunt haec quoque vota libelli.
Haec tua sint, Lector, si meus esse voles.
Si meus esse voles, meus ut sis, lumina, Lector,
Casta, sed o nimium non tibi sicca, precor.
Nam tibi fac madidis meus ille occurrerit alis,
Sanguine, seu lacryma diffluat ille sua:
Stipite totus hians, clavisque reclusus, et hasta:
Fons tuus in fluvios desidiosus erit?
Si tibi sanguineo meus hic tener iverit amne,
Tune tuas illi, dure, negabis aquas?
Ah durus! quicunque meos, nisi siccus, amores
Nolit, et hic lacrymae rem neget esse suae.
Saepe hic Magdalinas vel aquas vel amaverit undas;
Credo nec Assyrias mens tua malit opes.
Scilicet ille tuos ignis recalescet ad ignes;
Forsan et illa tuis unda natabit aquis.
Hic eris ad cunas, et odoros funere manes:
Hinc ignes nasci testis, et inde meos.
Hic mecum, et cum matre sua, mea gaudia quaeres:
Maturus Procerum seu stupor esse velit;
Sive per antra sui lateat, tunc templa, sepulchri:
Tertia lux reducem, lenta sed illa, dabit.
Sint fidae precor, ah, dices, facilesque tenebrae;
Lux mea dum noctis, res nova! poscit opem.
Denique charta meo quicquid mea dicat amori,
Illi quo metuat cunque, fleatve, modo,
Laeta parum, dices, haec, sed neque dulcia non sunt:
Certe et amor, dices, hujus amandus erat.

Si nimium hic promitti tibi videtur, Lector bone, pro eo cui satisfaciendo libellus iste futurus fuerit; scias me in istis non ad haec modo spectare quae hic habes, sed ea etiam quae olim, haec interim fovendo, habere poteris. Nolui enim, si hactenus deesse amicis meis non potui, flagitantibus a me, etiam cum dispendii sui periculo, paterer eos experiri te in tantum favorem tuum, nolui, inquam, fastidio tuo indulgere. Satis hic habes quod vel releges ad ferulam suam, neque enim maturiores sibi annos ex his aliqua vendicant, vel ut pignus plurium adultiorumque in sinu tuo reponas. Elige tibi ex his utrumvis. Me interim quod attinet, finis meus non fefellit. Maximum meae ambitionis scopum jamdudum attigi: tunc nimirum cum quale-cunque hoc meum pene infantis Musae murmur ad aures istas non ingratum sonuit, quibus neque doctiores mihi de publico timere habeo, nec sperare clementiores; adeo ut de tuo jam plausu, dicam ingenue et breviter, neque securus sim ultra neque solicitus. Prius tui, quisquis es, Lector, apud me reverentia prohibet; de cujus judicio omnia possum magna sperare: posterius illorum reverentia non sinit, de quorum perspicacitate maxima omnia non possum mihi non persuadere. Quanquam o quam velim tanti me esse in quo patria mea morem istum suum deponere velit, genio suo tam non dignum; istum scilicet quo, suis omnibus fastiditis, ea exosculatur unice, quibus trajecisse Alpes et de transmarino esse, in pretium cessit! Sed relictis hisce, nimis improbae spei votis, convertam me ad magistros acygnianos; quos scio de novissimis meis verbis, quanquam neminem nominarim, iratos me reliquisse: bilem vero componant; et mihi se hoc debere, ambitioso juveni verbum tam magnum ignoscant--debere, inquam, fateantur: quod nimirum in tam nobili argumento, in quo neque ad foetida de suis sanctis figmenta, neque ad putidas de nostris calumnias opus habeant confugere, de tenui hoc meo dederim illorum magnitudini unde emineat. Emineat vero; serius dico, sciantque me semper se habituros esse sub ea, quam mihi eorum lux major affuderit, umbra, placidissime acquiescentem.

[TRANSLATION. Verse and Prose, G.]

TO THE READER.