The Complete Works of Richard Crashaw Volume I Part 40

A man, whose tuned humours be A set of rarest harmonie?

Would'st see blithe looks, fresh cheeks beguile Age? Would'st see December smile? 40 Would'st see a nest of roses grow In a bed of reverend snow?

Warm thoughts, free spirits, flattering Winter's self into a Spring?

In summe, would'st see a man that can 45 Live to be old, and still a man?

Whose latest, and most leaden houres, Fall with soft wings, stuck with soft flowres; And when Life's sweet fable ends, His soul and bodie part like friends: 50 No quarrels, murmures, no delay: A kisse, a sigh, and so away?

This rare one, Reader, would'st thou see, Heark hither: and thyself be he.

NOTES AND ILl.u.s.tRATIONS.

Besides the reprint of 1646 as _supra_, this poem appeared in 1648 (pp.

8, 9), 1652 (pp. 126-8), where it is ent.i.tled 'Temperance. Of the Cheap Physitian, vpon the Translation of Lessivs (pp. 126-8):' and 1670 (pp.

108-9 and pp. 207-8, being inadvertently printed twice). These variations are noticeable:

Line 1, in 1648 and 1652, 'Goe now and with....'

" 2, in 1670, 'the' for 'thy;' and TURNBULL, as usual, repeats the error.

Line 3, in 1648 'pretious' for 'cruel:' so 1670 in 2d copy.

" 9, ib. 'last' for 'length,' and 1670 'gaine' for 'get'

in 2d copy.

Lines 11, 12, this couplet is inadvertently dropped in 1648.

I adopt "gainst' for 'against' from SANCROFT MS. in line 12.

Line 15, ib. 'wilt' for 'wouldst.'

" 18, 'physick' in 1646, 1648 and 1670 (1st copy); but 'musick' is a.s.suredly the finer reading, as in Hygiasticon and 1670 (in 2d copy). Cf. lines 19, 20, onward, which show that 'music' was intended.

Line 25, in all the three editions 'a' for 'whose:' in 1670 (2d copy) 'A soul sheath'd....'

Line 34, in 1646 'hath' for 'rides in,' and so in 1670 (1st copy): 'hath' seems the simpler and better.

Line 35, 1646 and 1670 misinsert 'thou' before 'see.'

" 38, 'set' for 'seat' in the three editions (1670, 1st copy); adopted.

Line 41, in 1648 'Would'st see nests of new roses grow:' so 1670 (2d copy).

Line 46, 1646 and 1670 end here.

Leonard Lessius was a learned Jesuit, born 1st October 1554, and died 15th January 1623-4. He was professor of theology in the University of Louvaine. His 'Hygiasticon, seu vera ratio valetudinis bonae et vitae' is still readable and quick. G.

THE BEGINNING OF HELIODORUS.[65]

The smiling Morne had newly wak't the Day, 1 And tipt the mountaines with a tender ray: When on a hill (whose high imperious brow Lookes downe, and sees the humble Nile below Licke his proud feet, and haste into the seas 5 Through the great mouth that's nam'd from Hercules) A band of men, rough as the armes they wore Look't round, first to the sea, then to the sh.o.r.e.

The sh.o.r.e that shewed them, what the sea deny'd, Hope of a prey. There to the maine-land ty'd 10 A s.h.i.+p they saw; no men she had, yet prest Appear'd with other lading, for her brest Deep in the groaning waters wallowed Vp to the third ring: o're the sh.o.r.e was spread Death's purple triumph; on the blus.h.i.+ng ground 15 Life's late forsaken houses all lay drown'd In their owne blood's deare deluge: some new dead; Some panting in their yet warme ruines bled, While their affrighted soules, now wing'd for flight Lent them the last flash of her glimmering light. 20 Those yet fresh streames which crawled every where Shew'd that sterne Warre had newly bath'd him there.

Nor did the face of this disaster show Markes of a fight alone, but feasting too: A miserable and a monstruous feast, 25 Where hungry Warre had made himself a guest: And comming late had eat up guests and all, Who prov'd the feast to their owne funerall &c.

CUPID'S CRYER:

OUT OF THE GREEKE.[66]

Love is lost, nor can his mother 1 Her little fugitive discover: She seekes, she sighes, but no where spyes him; Love is lost: and thus shee cryes him.

O yes! if any happy eye, 5 This roaving wanton shall descry; Let the finder surely know Mine is the wagge; 'tis I that owe The winged wand'rer; and that none May thinke his labour vainely gone, 10 The glad descryer shall not misse, To tast the nectar of a kisse From Venus lipps. But as for him That brings him to me, he shall swim In riper joyes: more shall be his 15 (Venus a.s.sures him) than a kisse.

But lest your eye discerning slide, These markes may be your judgement's guide; His skin as with a fiery blus.h.i.+ng High-colour'd is; his eyes still flus.h.i.+ng 20 With nimble flames; and though his mind Be ne're so curst, his tongue is kind: For never were his words in ought Found the pure issue of his thought.

The working bees' soft melting gold, 25 That which their waxen mines enfold, Flow not so sweet as doe the tones Of his tun'd accents; but if once His anger kindle, presently It boyles out into cruelty, 30 And fraud: he makes poor mortalls' hurts The objects of his cruell sports.

With dainty curles his froward face Is crown'd about: But O what place, What farthest nooke of lowest h.e.l.l 35 Feeles not the strength, the reaching spell Of his small hand? Yet not so small As 'tis powerfull therewithall.

Though bare his skin, his mind he covers, And like a saucy bird he hovers 40 With wanton wing, now here, now there, 'Bout men and women, nor will spare Till at length he perching rest, In the closet of their brest.

His weapon is a little bow, 45 Yet such a one as--Jove knows how-- Ne're suffred, yet his little arrow, Of Heaven's high'st arches to fall narrow.

The gold that on his quiver smiles, Deceives men's feares with flattering wiles. 50 But O--too well my wounds can tell-- With bitter shafts 'tis sauc't too well.

He is all cruell, cruell all, His torch imperious though but small Makes the sunne--of flames the sire-- 55 Worse than sun-burnt in his fire.

Wheresoe're you chance to find him Ceaze him, bring him--but first bind him-- Pitty not him, but feare thy selfe Though thou see the crafty elfe, 60 Tell down his silver-drops unto thee: They'r counterfeit, and will undoe thee.

With baited smiles if he display His fawning cheeks, looke not that way.

If he offer sugred kisses, 65 Start, and say, the serpent hisses.

Draw him, drag him, though he pray Wooe, intreat, and crying say Prethee, sweet, now let me go, Here's my quiver, shafts and bow, 70 I'le give thee all, take all; take heed Lest his kindnesse make thee bleed.

What e're it be Loue offers, still presume That though it s.h.i.+nes, 'tis fire and will consume.

VPON BISHOP ANDREWS' PICTURE BEFORE HIS SERMONS.[67]

This reverend shadow cast that setting sun, 1 Whose glorious course through our horrizon run, Left the dimme face of this dull hemispheare, All one great eye, all drown'd in one great teare.

Whose faire, ill.u.s.trious soule, led his free thought 5 Through Learning's vniverse, and (vainly) sought Room for her spatious selfe, untill at length Shee found the way home, with an holy strength; s.n.a.t.c.h't her self hence to Heaven: fill'd a bright place, 'Mongst those immortall fires, and on the face 10 Of her great Maker fixt her flaming eye, There still to read true, pure divinity.

And now that grave aspect hath deign'd to shrinke Into this lesse appearance: If you thinke 'Tis but a dead face, Art doth here bequeath: 15 Looke on the following leaves, and see him breath.

VPON THE DEATH OF A GENTLEMAN.[68]

Faithlesse and fond Mortality! 1 Who will ever credit thee?

Fond, and faithlesse thing! that thus, In our best hopes beguilest us.

What a reckoning hast thou made, 5 Of the hopes in him we laid!

For life by volumes lengthened, A line or two to speake him dead.

For the laurell in his verse, The sullen cypresse o're his herse _c.r.a.pe_ 10 For soe many hoped yeares Of fruit, soe many fruitles teares: For a silver-crowned head A durty pillow in Death's bed.

For so deare, so deep a trust, 15 Sad requitall, thus much dust!

Now though the blow that s.n.a.t.c.h him hence, Stopt the mouth of Eloquence: Though shee be dumbe e're since his death, Not us'd to speake but in his breath; 20 Leaving his death vngarnished Therefore, because hee is dead Yet if at least shee not denyes, The sad language of our eyes, Wee are contented: for then this 25 Language none more fluent is.