Finis.
Finis.
REMARKS PREFIXED TO NAHUM TATE'S EDITION (1697) OF 'NOSCE TEIPSUM.'[167]
There is a natural love and fondness in Englishmen for whatever was done in the reign of Queen Elizabeth. We look upon her time as our golden age; and the great men who lived in it, as our chiefest heroes of virtue, and greatest examples of wisdom, courage, integrity andlearning.
Among many others, the author of this poem merits a lasting honour; for, as he was a most eloquent lawyer, so, in the composition of this piece, we admire him for a good poet and exact philosopher. 'Tis not rhyming that makes a poet, but the true and impartial representing of virtue and vice, so as to instruct mankind in matters of greatest importance. And this observation has been made of our countrymen, That Sir John Suckling wrote in the most courtly and gentleman-like style; Waller in the most sweet and flowing numbers; Denham with the most accurate judgment and correctness; Cowley with pleasing softness and plenty of imagination: none ever uttered more divine thought than Mr. Herbert; none more philosophical than Sir John Davies. His thoughts are moulded into easy and significant words; his rhymes never mislead the sense, but are led and governed by it: so that in reading such useful performances, the wit of mankind may be refined from its dross, their memories furnished with the best notions, their judgments strengthened, and their conceptions enlarged: by which means the mind will be raised to the most perfect ideas it is capable of in this degenerate state.
But as others have laboured to carry out our thoughts, and toentertain them with all manner of delights abroad; 'tis the peculiar character of this author, that he has taught us (with Antoninus) to meditate upon ourselves; that he has disclosed to us greater secrets at home; self-reflection being the only way to valuable and true knowledge, which consists in that rare science of a man's self, which the moral philosopher loses in a crowd of definitions, divisions and distinctions: the historian cannot find it among all his musty records, being far better acquainted with the transactions of a thousand years past, than with the present age, or with himself: the writer of fables and romances wanders from it, in following the delusions of a wild fancy, chimeras and fictions that do not only exceed the works, but also the possibility of Nature. Whereas the resemblance of truth is the utmost limits of poetical liberty, which our author has very religiously observed; for he has not only placed and connected together the most amiable images of all those powers that are in our souls, but he has furnished and squared his matter like a true philosopher; that is, he has made both body and soul, colour and shadow of his poem, out of the storehouse of his own mind, which gives the whole work a real and natural beauty; when that which is borrowed out of books, (the boxes of counterfeit complexion) shews well or ill, as it has more orless likeness to the natural. But our author is beholding to none but himself; and by knowing himself thoroughly, he has arrived to know much; which appears in his admirable variety of well-chosen metaphors and similitudes that cannot be found within the compass of a narrow knowledge. For this reason the poem, on account of its intrinsic worth, would be as lasting as the Iliad or the Æneid, if the language 'tis wrote in were as immutable as that of the Greeks and Romans.
Now it would be of great benefit to the beaus of our age to carry this glass in their pocket, whereby they might learn to think rather than dress well. It would be of use also to the wits and virtuosoes to carry this antidote against the poison they have sucked in from Lucretius or Hobbes. This would acquaint them with some principles of religion; for in old times the poets were the divines, and exercised a kind of spiritual authority amongst the people. Verse in those days was the sacred style, the style of Oracles and Lawes. The vows and thanks of the people were recommended to their gods in songs and hymns. Why may they not retain this priviledge? for if prose should contend with verse, it would be upon unequal terms, and (as it were) on foot against the wings of Pegasus. With what delight are we touched in hearing thestories of Hercules, Achilles, Cyrus, and Æneas? Because in their characters we have wisdom, honour, fortitude and justice, set before our eyes. It was Plato's opinion, that if a man could see virtue, he would be strangely enamoured on her person. Which is the reason why Horace and Virgil have continued so long in reputation, because they have drawn her in all the charms of poetry. No man is so senseless of rational impressions, as not to be wonderfully affected with the pastorals of the ancients, when under the stories of wolves and sheep, they describe the misery of people under hard masters, and their happiness under good. So the bitter and wholesome Iambick was wont to make villainy blush; the Satire invited men to laugh at folly; the Comedian chastised the common errors of life; and the Tragedian made kings afraid to be tyrants, and tyrants to be their own tormentors.
Wherefore, as Sir Philip Sidney said of Chaucer, that he knew not which he should most wonder at, either that he in his dark time should see so distinctly, or that we in this clear age should go so stumblingly after him; so may we marvel at and bewail the low condition of poetry now, when in our Plays scarce any one rule of decorum is observed, but in the space of two hours and a half we pass through all the fits ofBedlam; in one scene we are all in mirth, in the next we are all in sadness; whilst even the most laboured parts are starved for want of thought; a confused heap of words, and empty sound of rhyme.
This very consideration should advance the esteem of the following poem, wherein are represented the various movements of the mind; at which we are as much transported as with the most excellent scenes of passion in Shakespear, or Fletcher: for in this, as in a mirror (that will not flatter) we see how the soul arbitrates in the understanding upon the various reports of sense, and all the changes of imagination: how compliant the will is to her dictates, and obeys her as a queen does her king: at the same time acknowledging a subjection, and yet retaining a majesty: how the passions move at her command, like a well-disciplined army; from which regular composure of the faculties, all operating in their proper time and place, there arises a complacency upon the whole soul, that infinitely transcends all other pleasures.
What deep philosophy is this! to discover the process of God's art in fashioning the soul of man after His own image; by remarking how one part moves another, and how those motions are varied by severalpositions of each part, from the first springs and plummets, to the very hand that points out the visible and last effects. What eloquence and force of wit to convey these profound speculations in the easiest language, expressed in words so vulgarly received, that they are understood by the meanest capacities.
For the poet takes care in every line to satisfy the understandings of mankind: he follows step by step the workings of the mind, from the first strokes of sense, then of fancy, afterwards of judgment, into the principles both of natural and supernatural motives: hereby the soul is made intelligible, which comprehends all things besides; the boundless tracks of sea and land, and the vaster spaces of heaven; that vital principle of action, which has always been busied in enquiries abroad, is now made known to itself; insomuch that we may find out what we ourselves are, from whence we came, and whither we must go; we may perceive what noble guests those are, which we lodge in our bosoms, which are nearer to us than all other things, and yet nothing further from our acquaintance.
But here all the labyrinths and windings of the human frame are laid open: 'tis seen by what pullies and wheels the work is carried on, as plainly as if a window were opened in the breast: for it is the work of God alone to create a mind. The next to this is to shew how its operations are performed.
NOTE.
The following is the original title-page of 'Astrœa':HYMNES OFASTRŒA, INAcrosticke verseLondonPrinted for J. S.1599[4o pp. 27: register A. B. C. D. of 4 leaves each.]
Throughout, the Poet spells 'Astrœa': probably Asteria ('Αστερια) were more accurate. Our text for these 'Hymnes' is, as in Nosce Teipsum, the edition of 1622: but throughout, compared with the first, assupra. Title-page in 1622 edition is as follows:
HYMNESofASTREAIn Acrosticke Verse.LondonPrinted by A. M. forRichard Hawkins.1622. [8vo.]
With reference to Elizabeth who is so glorified in these 'Hymnes' as 'Astræa,' cf. the 'Conference between a Gentleman-Usher and a Post' in our Memorial-Introduction. I have since found that another copy of this interesting MS. is preserved among the Harleian MSS.: No. cclxxxvi fol. 248. I would here call attention to the correspondence between the metaphor of the Senses serving the Intellect in 'Nosce Teipsum' and in the 'Conference' as flatteringly descriptive of the position held by her 'ministers' to the Queen. In Davison's 'Rhapsody'thename for Elizabeth is Astræa. G.
HYMNE I.
Of Astrœa.[168]
Early before the day doth spring,Let us awake my Muse, and sing;It is no time to slumber,So many ioyes this time doth bring,As Time will faile to number.But whereto shall we bend our layes?Euen vp to Heauen, againe to raise[169]The Mayd, which thence descended;Hath brought againe the golden dayes,And all the world amended.Rudenesse it selfe she doth refine,Euen like an Alchymist diuine;Grosse times of yron turningInto the purest forme of gold;Not to corrupt, till heauen waxe old,And be refined with burning.
Early before the day doth spring,Let us awake my Muse, and sing;It is no time to slumber,So many ioyes this time doth bring,As Time will faile to number.
But whereto shall we bend our layes?Euen vp to Heauen, againe to raise[169]The Mayd, which thence descended;Hath brought againe the golden dayes,And all the world amended.
Rudenesse it selfe she doth refine,Euen like an Alchymist diuine;Grosse times of yron turningInto the purest forme of gold;Not to corrupt, till heauen waxe old,And be refined with burning.
HYMNE II.
To Astræa.
Eternall Virgin,Goddessetrue,Let me presume to sing to you.Ioue, euen greatIouehath leasureSometimes to heare the vulgar crue,And heares them oft with pleasure.BlessèdAstræa, I in partEnioy the blessings you impart;The Peace, the milke and hony,Humanitie, and civilArt,Aricher dower then money.Right glad am I that now I liue,Euen in these dayes whereto you giueGreat happinesse and glory;If after you I should be borne,No doubt I should my birth-day scorne,Admiring your sweet storie.
Eternall Virgin,Goddessetrue,Let me presume to sing to you.Ioue, euen greatIouehath leasureSometimes to heare the vulgar crue,And heares them oft with pleasure.
BlessèdAstræa, I in partEnioy the blessings you impart;The Peace, the milke and hony,Humanitie, and civilArt,Aricher dower then money.
Right glad am I that now I liue,Euen in these dayes whereto you giueGreat happinesse and glory;If after you I should be borne,No doubt I should my birth-day scorne,Admiring your sweet storie.
HYMNE III.
To the Spring.
Earth now is greene, and heauen is blew,Liuely Spring which makes all new,Iolly Spring, doth enter;Sweete yong sun-beames doe subdueAngry, agèd Winter.Blasts are milde, and seas are calme,Euery meadow flowes with balme,The Earth weares all her riches;Harmonious birdes sing such a psalme,As eare and heart bewitches.Reserue (sweet Spring) this Nymph of ours,Eternall garlands of thy flowers,Greene garlands neuer wasting;In her shall last ourState'sfaire Spring,Now and for euer flourishing,As long as Heauen is lasting.
Earth now is greene, and heauen is blew,Liuely Spring which makes all new,Iolly Spring, doth enter;Sweete yong sun-beames doe subdueAngry, agèd Winter.
Blasts are milde, and seas are calme,Euery meadow flowes with balme,The Earth weares all her riches;Harmonious birdes sing such a psalme,As eare and heart bewitches.
Reserue (sweet Spring) this Nymph of ours,Eternall garlands of thy flowers,Greene garlands neuer wasting;In her shall last ourState'sfaire Spring,Now and for euer flourishing,As long as Heauen is lasting.
HYMNE IV.
To the Moneth of May.
Each day of thine, sweet moneth of May,Loue makes a solemne holy-day.Iwill performe like duty,Sith thou resemblest euery wayAstræa, Queen of beauty,Both you fresh beauties do pertake,Either's aspect doth Summer make,Thoughts of young Loue awaking;Hearts you both doe cause to ake,And yet be pleas'd with akeing.Right deare art thou, and so is shee,Euen like attractiue sympathy,Gaines vnto both like dearenesse;Iweene this made AntiquitieName thee, sweetMay of Maiestie,As being both like inclearnesse.
Each day of thine, sweet moneth of May,Loue makes a solemne holy-day.Iwill performe like duty,Sith thou resemblest euery wayAstræa, Queen of beauty,
Both you fresh beauties do pertake,Either's aspect doth Summer make,Thoughts of young Loue awaking;Hearts you both doe cause to ake,And yet be pleas'd with akeing.
Right deare art thou, and so is shee,Euen like attractiue sympathy,Gaines vnto both like dearenesse;Iweene this made AntiquitieName thee, sweetMay of Maiestie,As being both like inclearnesse.
HYMNE V.
To the Larke.
Earley, cheerfull, mounting Larke,Light's gentle vsher, Morning's clark,In merry notes delighting;Stint awhile thy song, and harke,And learne my new inditing.Beare vp this hymne, to heau'n it beare,Euen vp to heau'n, and sing it there,To heau'n each morning beare it;Haue it set to some sweet sphere,And let the Angels heare it.Renownd Astræa, that great name,Exceeding great in worth and fame,Great worth hath so renownd it;It is Astræa's name I praise,Now then, sweet Larke, do thou it raise,And in high Heauen resound it.
Earley, cheerfull, mounting Larke,Light's gentle vsher, Morning's clark,In merry notes delighting;Stint awhile thy song, and harke,And learne my new inditing.
Beare vp this hymne, to heau'n it beare,Euen vp to heau'n, and sing it there,To heau'n each morning beare it;Haue it set to some sweet sphere,And let the Angels heare it.
Renownd Astræa, that great name,Exceeding great in worth and fame,Great worth hath so renownd it;It is Astræa's name I praise,Now then, sweet Larke, do thou it raise,And in high Heauen resound it.
HYMNE VI.
To the Nightingale.
Euery night from euen till morne,Loue's Quirister amidde the thorneIs now so sweet a singer;So sweet, as for her song I scorneApollo's voice, and finger.But Nightingale, sith you delightEuer to watch the starry night;Tell all the starres of heauen,Heauen neuer had a starre so bright,As now to Earth is giuen.Royall Astræa makes our dayEternall with her beames, nor mayGrosse darknesse ouercome her;Inow perceiue why some doe write,No countrey hath so short a night,As England hath in Summer.
Euery night from euen till morne,Loue's Quirister amidde the thorneIs now so sweet a singer;So sweet, as for her song I scorneApollo's voice, and finger.
But Nightingale, sith you delightEuer to watch the starry night;Tell all the starres of heauen,Heauen neuer had a starre so bright,As now to Earth is giuen.
Royall Astræa makes our dayEternall with her beames, nor mayGrosse darknesse ouercome her;Inow perceiue why some doe write,No countrey hath so short a night,As England hath in Summer.
HYMNE VII.
To the Rose.
Eye of the Garden, Queene of flowres,Love's cup wherein he nectar powres,Ingendered first of nectar;Sweet nurse-child of the Spring's young howres,And Beautie's faire character.Best iewell that the Earth doth weare,Euen when the braue young sunne draws neare,/span>To her hot Loue pretending;[170]Himselfe likewise like forme doth beare,At rising and descending.Rose of the Queene of Loue belou'd;England's great Kings diuinely mou'd,Gave Roses in their banner;It shewed that Beautie's Rose indeed,Now in this age should them succeed,And raigne in more sweet manner.
Eye of the Garden, Queene of flowres,Love's cup wherein he nectar powres,Ingendered first of nectar;Sweet nurse-child of the Spring's young howres,And Beautie's faire character.
Best iewell that the Earth doth weare,Euen when the braue young sunne draws neare,/span>To her hot Loue pretending;[170]Himselfe likewise like forme doth beare,At rising and descending.
Rose of the Queene of Loue belou'd;England's great Kings diuinely mou'd,Gave Roses in their banner;It shewed that Beautie's Rose indeed,Now in this age should them succeed,And raigne in more sweet manner.
HYMNE VIII.
To all the Princes of Europe.
Europe, the earth's sweet Paradise,Let all thy kings that would be wise,Inpolitique deuotion;Sayle hither to obserue her eyes,And marke her heaunly motion.Braue Princes of this ciuill age,Enter into this pilgrimage;This saint's tongue is an oracle,Her eye hath made a Prince a page,And works each day a miracle.Raise but your lookes to her, and seeEuen the true beames of maiestie,Great Princes, marke her duly;If all the world you doe suruey,No forehead spreades so bright a ray,And notes a Prince so truly.
Europe, the earth's sweet Paradise,Let all thy kings that would be wise,Inpolitique deuotion;Sayle hither to obserue her eyes,And marke her heaunly motion.
Braue Princes of this ciuill age,Enter into this pilgrimage;This saint's tongue is an oracle,Her eye hath made a Prince a page,And works each day a miracle.
Raise but your lookes to her, and seeEuen the true beames of maiestie,Great Princes, marke her duly;If all the world you doe suruey,No forehead spreades so bright a ray,And notes a Prince so truly.
HYMNE IX.
To Flora.
Empresse of flowers, tell where awayLies your sweet Court this merry[171]May,InGreenewichGarden allies?[172]Since there the heauenly powers do playAnd haunt no other vallies.Beautie,vertue,maiestie,Eloquent Muses, three times three,The new freshHouresand Graces,Haue pleasure in this place to be,Aboue all other places.Roses and lillies did them draw,Ere they diuineAstræasaw;Gay flowers they sought for pleasure:Instead of gathering crownes of flowers,Now gather they Astræa's dowers,And beare to heauen that treasure,
Empresse of flowers, tell where awayLies your sweet Court this merry[171]May,InGreenewichGarden allies?[172]Since there the heauenly powers do playAnd haunt no other vallies.
Beautie,vertue,maiestie,Eloquent Muses, three times three,The new freshHouresand Graces,Haue pleasure in this place to be,Aboue all other places.
Roses and lillies did them draw,Ere they diuineAstræasaw;Gay flowers they sought for pleasure:Instead of gathering crownes of flowers,Now gather they Astræa's dowers,And beare to heauen that treasure,
HYMNE X.
To the Moneth of September.
Each moneth hath praise in some degree;Let May to others seeme to beIn sense the sweetest Season;September thou art best to me,And best dost please my reason.But neither for thy corne nor wineExtoll I those mild dayes of thine,Though corne and wine might praise thee;Heauen giues thee honour more diuine,And higher fortunes raise thee.Renown'd art thou (sweet moneth) for this,Emong thy dayes her birth-day is;[173]Grace, plenty, peace and honourIn one faire hour with her were borne;Now since they still her crowne adorne,And still attend vpon her.
Each moneth hath praise in some degree;Let May to others seeme to beIn sense the sweetest Season;September thou art best to me,And best dost please my reason.
But neither for thy corne nor wineExtoll I those mild dayes of thine,Though corne and wine might praise thee;Heauen giues thee honour more diuine,And higher fortunes raise thee.
Renown'd art thou (sweet moneth) for this,Emong thy dayes her birth-day is;[173]Grace, plenty, peace and honourIn one faire hour with her were borne;Now since they still her crowne adorne,And still attend vpon her.
HYMNE XI.
To the Sunne.
Eye of the world, fountaine of light,Life of Day, and death of Night;Ihumbly seek thy kindnesse:Sweet, dazle not my feeble sight,And strike me not with blindnesse.Behold me mildly from that face,Euen where thou now dost run thy race,The spheare where now thou turnest;Hauing likePhaetonchang'd thy place,And yet hearts onely burnest.Red in her right cheeke thou dost rise,Exalted after in her eyes,Great glory there thou shewest;In th' other cheeke when thou descendest,New rednesse vnto it thou lendest,And so thy round thou goest.
Eye of the world, fountaine of light,Life of Day, and death of Night;Ihumbly seek thy kindnesse:Sweet, dazle not my feeble sight,And strike me not with blindnesse.
Behold me mildly from that face,Euen where thou now dost run thy race,The spheare where now thou turnest;Hauing likePhaetonchang'd thy place,And yet hearts onely burnest.
Red in her right cheeke thou dost rise,Exalted after in her eyes,Great glory there thou shewest;In th' other cheeke when thou descendest,New rednesse vnto it thou lendest,And so thy round thou goest.
HYMNE XII.
To her Picture.
Extreame was his audacitie,Little his skill, that finisht thee;Iam asham'd and sorry,So dull her counterfeit should bee,And she so full of glory.But here are colours red and white,Each line, and each proportion right;These lines, this red and whitenesse,Haue wanting yet a life and light,Amaiestie, and brightnesse.Rude counterfeit, I then did erre,Euen now when I would needs inferreGreat boldnesse in thy maker;Idid mistake, he was not bold,Nor durst his eyes her eyes behold:And this made him mistake her.
Extreame was his audacitie,Little his skill, that finisht thee;Iam asham'd and sorry,So dull her counterfeit should bee,And she so full of glory.
But here are colours red and white,Each line, and each proportion right;These lines, this red and whitenesse,Haue wanting yet a life and light,Amaiestie, and brightnesse.
Rude counterfeit, I then did erre,Euen now when I would needs inferreGreat boldnesse in thy maker;Idid mistake, he was not bold,Nor durst his eyes her eyes behold:And this made him mistake her.
HYMNE XIII.
Of her Minde.
Earth, now adiew, my rauisht thoughtLifted to Heau'n sets thee at nought;Infinite is my longing,Secrets of angels to be taught,And things to Heau'n belonging.Brought downe from heau'n of angels kind,Euen now doe I admire hermind;This is my contemplation,Her cleare sweet spirit, which is refin'dAboue humanecreation.Rich sun-beame of th' Æternall light,ExcellentSoule, how shall I wright?[174]Good angels make me able;Icannot see but by your eye,Nor, but by your tongue, signifieAthing so admirable.
Earth, now adiew, my rauisht thoughtLifted to Heau'n sets thee at nought;Infinite is my longing,Secrets of angels to be taught,And things to Heau'n belonging.
Brought downe from heau'n of angels kind,Euen now doe I admire hermind;This is my contemplation,Her cleare sweet spirit, which is refin'dAboue humanecreation.
Rich sun-beame of th' Æternall light,ExcellentSoule, how shall I wright?[174]Good angels make me able;Icannot see but by your eye,Nor, but by your tongue, signifieAthing so admirable.
HYMNE XIIII.
Of the Sun-beames of her Mind.
Exceeding glorious is the starre,Let vs behold her beames afarreIn a side line reflected;Sight bears them not, when neere they are,And in right lines directed.Behold her in her vertues' beames,Extending sun-like to all realmes;The sunne none viewes too neerly:Her well of goodnes in these streames,Appeares right well and clearely.Radiant vertues, if your lightEnfeeble the best iudgement's sight,Great splendor aboue measureIs in themindfrom whence you flow;No wit may haue accesse to know,And view so bright a treasure.
Exceeding glorious is the starre,Let vs behold her beames afarreIn a side line reflected;Sight bears them not, when neere they are,And in right lines directed.
Behold her in her vertues' beames,Extending sun-like to all realmes;The sunne none viewes too neerly:Her well of goodnes in these streames,Appeares right well and clearely.
Radiant vertues, if your lightEnfeeble the best iudgement's sight,Great splendor aboue measureIs in themindfrom whence you flow;No wit may haue accesse to know,And view so bright a treasure.
HYMNE XV.
Of her Wit.
Eye of that mind most quicke and cleere,—Like Heauen's eye, which from his spheareInto all things prieth;Sees through all things euery where,And all their natures trieth.Bright image of an angel's wit,Exceeding sharpe and swift like it,Things instantly discerning;Hauing a nature infinit,And yet increas'd by learning.Rebound vpon thy selfe thy light,Enioy thine own sweet precious sightGiue us but some reflection;It is enough for vs if weNow in her speech, now policie,Admire thine high perfection.
Eye of that mind most quicke and cleere,—Like Heauen's eye, which from his spheareInto all things prieth;Sees through all things euery where,And all their natures trieth.
Bright image of an angel's wit,Exceeding sharpe and swift like it,Things instantly discerning;Hauing a nature infinit,And yet increas'd by learning.
Rebound vpon thy selfe thy light,Enioy thine own sweet precious sightGiue us but some reflection;It is enough for vs if weNow in her speech, now policie,Admire thine high perfection.
HYMNE XVI.
Of her Will.
Euer well affectedwill,Louinggoodnesse, loathingill,Inestimable treasure!Since such a power hath power to spill,[175]And save vs at her pleasure.Be thou our law, sweetwill, and sayEuen what thou wilt, we will obayThis law, if I could reade it;Herein would I spend night and day,And study still to plead it.Royallfree-will, and onelyfree,Each otherwillis slaue to thee;Glad is each will to serue thee:In thee such princely power is seene,No spirit but takes thee for her Queene,And thinkes she must obserue thee.
Euer well affectedwill,Louinggoodnesse, loathingill,Inestimable treasure!Since such a power hath power to spill,[175]And save vs at her pleasure.
Be thou our law, sweetwill, and sayEuen what thou wilt, we will obayThis law, if I could reade it;Herein would I spend night and day,And study still to plead it.
Royallfree-will, and onelyfree,Each otherwillis slaue to thee;Glad is each will to serue thee:In thee such princely power is seene,No spirit but takes thee for her Queene,And thinkes she must obserue thee.
HYMNE XVII.
Of her Memorie.
Excellent iewels would you see,Louely ladies? come with me,Iwill (for loue I owe you).Shew you as rich a treasurie,As East or West can shew you.Behold, if you can iudge of it,Euen that great store-house of her wit:That beautiful large Table,Her Memory; wherein is writAll knowledge admirable.Reade this faire book, and you shall learneExquisite skill; if you discerne,Gaine heau'n by this discerning;In such a memory diuine,Nature did forme theMusesnine,AndPallasQueene of Learning.
Excellent iewels would you see,Louely ladies? come with me,Iwill (for loue I owe you).Shew you as rich a treasurie,As East or West can shew you.
Behold, if you can iudge of it,Euen that great store-house of her wit:That beautiful large Table,Her Memory; wherein is writAll knowledge admirable.
Reade this faire book, and you shall learneExquisite skill; if you discerne,Gaine heau'n by this discerning;In such a memory diuine,Nature did forme theMusesnine,AndPallasQueene of Learning.
HYMNE XVIII.
Of Her Phantasie.
Exquisite curiositie,Looke on thy selfe with iudging eye,If ought be faultie, leaue it;So delicate a phantasieAs this, will straight perceiue it.Because her temper is so fine,Endewèd with harmonies diuine;Therefore if discord strike it,Her true proportions doe repine,And sadly do[176]mislike it.Right otherwise a pleasure sweetEuer she takes in actions meet,Gracing with smiles such meetnesse;In her faire forehead, beames appeare,No Summer's day is halfe so cleare,Adorn'd with halfe that sweetnesse.
Exquisite curiositie,Looke on thy selfe with iudging eye,If ought be faultie, leaue it;So delicate a phantasieAs this, will straight perceiue it.
Because her temper is so fine,Endewèd with harmonies diuine;Therefore if discord strike it,Her true proportions doe repine,And sadly do[176]mislike it.
Right otherwise a pleasure sweetEuer she takes in actions meet,Gracing with smiles such meetnesse;In her faire forehead, beames appeare,No Summer's day is halfe so cleare,Adorn'd with halfe that sweetnesse.
HYMNE XIX.
Of the Organs of her Minde.
Eclipsed she is, and her bright rayes.Lie under vailes, yet many wayesIs her faire forme reuealed;She diuersly her selfe conueyes,And cannot be concealed.By instruments her powers appeareExceedingly well tun'd and cleare:This lute is still in measure,Holds still in tune, euen like a spheare,And yeelds the world sweet pleasure.Resolue me, Muse, how this thing is,Euer a body like to thisGaue Heau'n to earthly creature?Iam but fond[177]this doubt to makeNo doubt the angels bodies take,Above our common nature.
Eclipsed she is, and her bright rayes.Lie under vailes, yet many wayesIs her faire forme reuealed;She diuersly her selfe conueyes,And cannot be concealed.
By instruments her powers appeareExceedingly well tun'd and cleare:This lute is still in measure,Holds still in tune, euen like a spheare,And yeelds the world sweet pleasure.
Resolue me, Muse, how this thing is,Euer a body like to thisGaue Heau'n to earthly creature?Iam but fond[177]this doubt to makeNo doubt the angels bodies take,Above our common nature.
HYMNE XX.
Of the Passions of her Heart.