The Complete Works of Richard Crashaw Volume I Part 38

Come braue soldjers, come and see Mighty Loue's artillery.

This was the conquering dart; and loe There shines His quiuer, there His bow.

These the pa.s.siue weapons are, That made great Loue, a man of warre.

The quiver that He bore, did bide Soe neare, it prov'd His very side: In it there sate but one sole dart, A peircing one--His peirced heart.

His weapons were nor steele, nor bra.s.se, The weapon that He wore, He was.

For bow His vnbent hand did serue, Well strung with many a broken nerue.

Strange the quiver, bow and dart!

A b.l.o.o.d.y side, and hand, and heart!

But now the feild is wonne; and they (The dust of Warre cleane wip'd away) The weapons now of triumph be, That were before of Victorie.

ON YE GUNPOWDER-TREASON.[59]

I sing Impiety beyond a name: Who stiles it any thinge, knowes not the same.

Dull, sluggish Ile! what more than lethargy Gripes thy cold limbes soe fast, thou canst not fly, And start from of[f] thy center? hath Heauen's loue Stuft thee soe full with blisse, thou can'st not moue?

If soe, oh Neptune, may she farre be throwne By thy kind armes to a kind world vnknowne: Lett her surviue this day, once mock her fate, And shee's an island truely fortunate.

Lett not my suppliant breath raise a rude storme To wrack my suite: O keepe Pitty warme In thy cold breast, and yearely on this day Mine eyes a tributary streame shall pay.

Dos't thou not see an exhalation Belch'd from the sulph'ry lungs of Phlegeton?

A living comet, whose pestiferous breath Adulterates the virgin aire? with death It laboures: stif'led Nature's in a swound, Ready to dropp into a chaos, round About horror's displai'd; It doth portend, That earth a shoure of stones to heauen shall send, And crack the christall globe; the milkly streame Shall in a siluer raine runne out, whose creame Shall choake the gaping earth, wch then shall fry In flames, & of a burning feuer dy.

That wonders may in fashion be, not rare, A Winter's thunder with a groane shall scare, And rouze the sleepy ashes of the dead, Making them skip out of their dusty bed.

Those twinckling eyes of heauen, wch eu'n now shin'd, Shall with one flash of lightning be struck blind.

The sea shall change his youthfull greene, & slide Along the sh.o.r.e in a graue purple tide.

It does praesage, that a great Prince shall climbe, And gett a starry throne before his time.

To vsher in this shoale of prodigies, Thy infants, aeolus, will not suffice.

Noe, noe, a giant wind, that will not spare To tosse poore men like dust into the aire; Justle downe mountaines: Kings courts shall be sent, Like bandied balles, into the firmament.

Atlas shall be tript vpp, Ioue's gate shall feele The weighty rudenes of his boysterous heele.

All this it threats, & more: Horror, that flies To th' empyraeum of all miseries.

Most tall hyperbole's cannot descry it; Mischeife, that scornes expression should come nigh it.

All this it only threats: the meteor ly'd; It was exhal'd, a while it hung, & dy'd.

Heauen kickt the monster downe: downe it was throwne, The fall of all things it praesag'd, its oune It quite forgott: the fearfull earth gaue way, And durst not touch it, heere it made noe stay.

At last it stopt at Pluto's gloomy porch; He streightway lighted vpp his pitchy torch.

Now to those toiling soules it giues its light, Wch had the happines to worke ith' night.

They banne the blaze, & curse its curtesy, For lighting them vnto their misery.

Till now h.e.l.l was imperfect; it did need Some rare choice torture; now 'tis h.e.l.l indeed.

Then glutt thy dire lampe with the warmest blood, That runnes in violett pipes: none other food It can digest, then watch the wildfire well, Least it breake forth, & burne thy sooty cell.

UPON THE GUNPOWDER-TREASON.

Reach me a quill, pluckt from the flaming wing Of Pluto's Mercury, that I may sing Death to the life. My inke shall be the blood Of Cerberus, or Alecto's viperous brood.

Vnmated malice! Oh vnpeer'd despight!

Such as the sable pinions of the night Neuer durst hatch before: extracted see The very quintessence of villanie: I feare to name it; least that he, wch heares, Should haue his soule frighted beyond the spheres.

Heauen was asham'd, to see our mother Earth Engender with the Night, & teeme a birth Soe foule, one minute's light had it but seene, The fresh face of the morne had blasted beene.

Her rosy cheekes you should haue seene noe more Dy'd in vermilion blushes, as before: But in a vaile of clouds mufling her head A solitary life she would haue led.

Affrighted Phoebus would haue lost his way, Giving his wanton palfreys leaue to play Olympick games in the' Olympian plaines, His trembling hands loosing the golden raines.

The Queene of night gott the greene sicknes then, Sitting soe long at ease in her darke denne, Not daring to peepe forth, least that a stone Should beate her headlong from her jetty throne.

Ioue's twinckling tapers, that doe light the world, Had beene puft out, and from their stations hurl'd: aeol kept in his wrangling sonnes, least they With this grand blast should haue bin blowne away.

Amazed Triton, with his shrill alarmes Bad sporting Neptune to pluck in his armes, And leaue embracing of the Isles, least hee Might be an actor in this Tragedy.

Nor should wee need thy crisped waues, for wee An Ocean could haue made t' haue drowned thee.

Torrents of salt teares from our eyes should runne, And raise a deluge, where the flaming sunne Should coole his fiery wheeles, & neuer sinke Soe low to giue his thirsty stallions drinke; Each soule in sighes had spent its dearest breath, As glad to waite vpon their King in death.

Each winged chorister would swan-like sing A mournfull dirge to their deceased king.

The painted meddowes would haue laught no more For ioye of their neate coates; but would haue tore Their s.h.a.ggy locks, their flowry mantles turn'd Into dire sable weeds, & sate, & mourn'd.

Each stone had streight a Niobe become, And wept amaine; then rear'd a costly tombe, T' entombe the lab'ring earth. For surely shee Had died just in her deliuery.

But when Ioue's winged heralds this espied, Vpp to th' Almighty thunderer they hied, Relating this sad story. Streight way hee The monster crusht, maugre their midwiferie.

And may such Pythons neuer liue to see The Light's faire face, but still abortiue bee.

UPON THE GUNPOWDER-TREASON.

Grow plumpe, leane Death; his Holinesse a feast Hath now praepar'd, & you maist be his guest.

Come grimme Destruction, & in purple gore Dye seu'n times deeper than they were before Thy scarlet robes: for heere you must not share A common banquett: noe, heere's princely fare.

And least thy blood-shott eyes should lead aside This ma.s.se of cruelty, to be thy guide Three coleblack sisters, (whose long sutty haire, And greisly visages doe fright the aire; When Night beheld them, shame did almost turne Her sable cheekes into a blushing morne, To see some fowler than herselfe) these stand, Each holding forth to light the aery brand, Whose purer flames tremble to be soe nigh, And in fell hatred burning, angry dy.

Sly, lurking treason is his bosome freind, Whom faint, & palefac't Feare doth still attend.

These need noe invitation, onely thou Black dismall Horror, come; make perfect now Th' epitome of h.e.l.l: oh lett thy pinions Be a gloomy canopy to Pluto's minions.

In this infernall Majesty close shrowd Your selues, you Stygian states; a pitchy clowd Shall hang the roome, & for your tapers bright, Sulphureous flames, s.n.a.t.c.h'd from aeternall night.

But rest, affrighted Muse; thy siluer wings May not row neerer to these dusky rings.[60]

Cast back some amorous glances on the cates, That heere are dressing by the hasty Fates, Nay stopp thy clowdy eyes, it is not good, To drowne thy selfe in this pure pearly flood.

But since they are for fire-workes, rather proue A phenix, & in chastest flames of loue Offer thy selfe a virgin sacrifice To quench the rage of h.e.l.lish deities.

But dares Destruction eate these candid b.r.e.a.s.t.s, The Muses, & the Graces sugred neasts?

Dares hungry Death s.n.a.t.c.h of one cherry lipp?

Or thirsty Treason offer once to sippe One dropp of this pure nectar, wch doth flow In azure channells warme through mounts of snow?

The roses fresh, conserued from the rage, And cruell ravishing of frosty age, Feare is afraid to tast of: only this, He humbly crau'd to banquett on a kisse.

Poore meagre horror streightwaies was amaz'd, And in the stead of feeding stood, & gaz'd.

Their appet.i.tes were gone at th' uery sight; But yet theire eyes surfett with sweet delight.

Only the Pope a stomack still could find; But yett they were not powder'd to his mind.

Forth-with each G.o.d stept from his starry throne, And s.n.a.t.c.h'd away the banquett; euery one Convey'd his sweet delicious treasury To the close closet of aeternity: Where they will safely keepe it, from the rude, And rugged touch of Pluto's mult.i.tude.

=Secular Poetry.=

I.

THE DELIGHTS OF THE MUSES

(1646).

NOTE.

For the t.i.tle-page of 'The Delights of the Muses' see Note immediately before the original Preface, and our Preface on the cla.s.sification of the several poems. G.