Poetical Works of Edmund Waller and Sir John Denham Part 6

UPON HIS MAJESTY'S REPAIRING OF ST PAUL'S.[1]

That shipwreck'd vessel which th'Apostle bore, Scarce suffer'd more upon Melita's sh.o.r.e, Than did his temple in the sea of time, Our nation's glory, and our nation's crime.

When the first monarch[2] of this happy isle, Moved with the ruin of so brave a pile, This work of cost and piety begun, To be accomplish'd by his glorious son, Who all that came within the ample thought Of his wise sire has to perfection brought; 10 He, like Amphion, makes those quarries leap Into fair figures from a confused heap; For in his art of regiment is found A power like that of harmony in sound.

Those antique minstrels, sure, were Charles-like kings, Cities their lutes, and subjects' hearts their strings, On which with so divine a hand they strook, Consent of motion from their breath they took: So all our minds with his conspire to grace The Gentiles' great Apostle, and deface 20 Those state-obscuring sheds, that like a chain Seem'd to confine and fetter him again; Which the glad saint shakes off at his command, As once the viper from his sacred hand: So joys the aged oak, when we divide The creeping ivy from his injured side.

Ambition rather would affect the fame Of some new structure, to have borne her name.

Two distant virtues in one act we find, The modesty and greatness of his mind; 30 Which, not content to be above the rage, And injury of all-impairing age, In its own worth secure, doth higher climb, And things half swallow'd from the jaws of Time

Reduce; an earnest of his grand design, To frame no new church, but the old refine; Which, spouse-like, may with comely grace command, More than by force of argument or hand.

For doubtful reason few can apprehend, And war brings ruin where it should amend; 40 But beauty, with a bloodless conquest finds A welcome sovereignty in rudest minds.

Not aught which Sheba's wond'ring queen beheld Amongst the works of Solomon, excell'd His ships and building; emblems of a heart Large both in magnanimity and art.

While the propitious heavens this work attend, Long-wanted showers they forget to send; As if they meant to make it understood Of more importance than our vital food. 50

The sun, which riseth to salute the quire Already finished, setting shall admire How private bounty could so far extend: The King built all, but Charles the western end.[3]

So proud a fabric to devotion given, At once it threatens and obliges Heaven!

Laomedon, that had the G.o.ds in pay, Neptune, with him that rules the sacred day,[4]

Could no such structure raise: Troy wall'd so high, Th' Atrides might as well have forced the sky. 60

Glad, though amazed, are our neighbour kings, To see such power employ'd in peaceful things; They list not urge it to the dreadful field; The task is easier to destroy than build.

... Sic gratia regum Pieriis tentam modis...--HORACE.

[1] 'St. Paul's': these repairs commenced in the spring of 1633.

[2] 'Monarch': King James I.

[3] 'Western end': the western end, built at Charles' own expense, consisted of a splendid portico, built by Inigo Jones.

[4] 'Sacred day': Apollo.

THE COUNTESS OF CARLISLE IN MOURNING.[1]

When from black clouds no part of sky is clear, But just so much as lets the sun appear, Heaven then would seem thy image, and reflect Those sable vestments, and that bright aspect.

A spark of virtue by the deepest shade Of sad adversity is fairer made; Nor less advantage doth thy beauty get, A Venus rising from a sea of jet!

Such was th'appearance of new-formed light, While yet it struggled with eternal night. 10 Then mourn no more, lest thou admit increase Of glory by thy n.o.ble lord's decease.

We find not that the laughter-loving dame[2]

Mourn'd for Anchises; 'twas enough she came To grace the mortal with her deathless bed, And that his living eyes such beauty fed; Had she been there, untimely joy, through all Men's hearts diffused, had marr'd the funeral.

Those eyes were made to banish grief: as well Bright Phoebus might affect in shades to dwell, 20 As they to put on sorrow: nothing stands, But power to grieve, exempt from thy commands.

If thou lament, thou must do so alone; Grief in thy presence can lay hold on none.

Yet still persist the memory to love Of that great Mercury of our mighty Jove, Who, by the power of his enchanting tongue, Swords from the hands of threat'ning monarchs wrung.

War he prevented, or soon made it cease, 29 Instructing princes in the arts of peace; Such as made Sheba's curious queen resort To the large-hearted Hebrew's famous court.

Had Homer sat amongst his wond'ring guests, He might have learn'd at those stupendous feasts, With greater bounty, and more sacred state, The banquets of the G.o.ds to celebrate.

But oh! what elocution might he use, What potent charms, that could so soon infuse His absent master's love into the heart Of Henrietta! forcing her to part 40 From her loved brother, country, and the sun, And, like Camilla, o'er the waves to run Into his arms! while the Parisian dames Mourn for the ravish'd glory; at her flames No less amazed than the amazed stars, When the bold charmer of Thessalia wars With Heaven itself, and numbers does repeat, Which call descending Cynthia from her seat.

[1] 'Mourning': Carlisle was a luxurious liver, and died in 1636, poor, but, like many spendthrifts, popular. He had represented Prince Charles at his marriage with Princess Henrietta at Paris.

[2] 'Dame': Venus.

IN ANSWER TO ONE WHO WRIT A LIBEL AGAINST THE COUNTESS OF CARLISLE.

1 What fury has provoked thy wit to dare, With Diomede, to wound the Queen of Love?

Thy mistress' envy, or thine own despair?

Not the just Pallas in thy breast did move So blind a rage, with such a diff'rent fate; He honour won, where thou hast purchased hate.

2 She gave a.s.sistance to his Trojan foe; Thou, that without a rival thou may'st love, Dost to the beauty of this lady owe, While after her the gazing world does move.

Canst thou not be content to love alone?

Or is thy mistress not content with one?

3 Hast thou not read of Fairy Arthur's shield, Which, but disclosed, amazed the weaker eyes Of proudest foes, and won the doubtful field?

So shall thy rebel wit become her prize.

Should thy iambics swell into a book, All were confuted with one radiant look.

4 Heaven he obliged that placed her in the skies; Rewarding Phoebus, for inspiring so His n.o.ble brain, by likening to those eyes His joyful beams; but Phoebus is thy foe, And neither aids thy fancy nor thy sight, So ill thou rhym'st against so fair a light.

OF HER CHAMBER.

They taste of death that do at heaven arrive; But we this paradise approach alive.

Instead of death, the dart of love does strike, And renders all within these walls alike.

The high in t.i.tles, and the shepherd, here Forgets his greatness, and forgets his fear.

All stand amazed, and gazing on the fair, Lose thought of what themselves or others are; Ambition lose, and have no other scope, 9 Save Carlisle's favour, to employ their hope.

The Thracian[1] could (though all those tales were true The bold Greeks tell) no greater wonders do; Before his feet so sheep and lions lay, Fearless and wrathless while they heard him play.

The gay, the wise, the gallant, and the grave, Subdued alike, all but one pa.s.sion have; No worthy mind but finds in hers there is Something proportion'd to the rule of his; While she with cheerful, but impartial grace, (Born for no one, but to delight the race 20 Of men) like Phoebus so divides her light, And warms us, that she stoops not from her height.

[1] 'Thracian': Orpheus.--

THYRSIS, GALATEA.[1]

THYRSIS.