The Lives of the Poets of Great Britain and Ireland (1753) Volume II Part 7

XVII.

The ghosts, and monster spirits, that did presume A body's priv'lege to a.s.sume, Vanish again invisibly, And bodies gain again their visibility.

XVIII.

All the world's bravery that delights our eyes, Is but thy sev'ral liveries, Thou the rich dye on them bestow'st, Thy nimble pencil paints this landskip as thou go'st.

XIX.

A crimson garment in the rose thou wear'st; A crown of studded gold thou bear'st, The virgin lillies in their white, Are clad but with the lawn of almost naked light.

XX.

The Violet, spring's little infant, stands, Girt in thy purple swadling-bands: On the fair Tulip thou dost dote; Thou cloath'st it in a gay and party-colour'd coat.

XXI.

With flame condens'd thou dost the jewels fix, And solid colours in it mix: Flora herself, envies to see Flowers fairer than her own, and durable as she.

XXII.

Ah, G.o.ddess! would thou could'st thy hand with-hold, And be less liberal to gold; Didst thou less value to it give, Of how much care (alas) might'st thou poor man relieve!

XXIII.

To me the sun is more delightful far, And all fair days much fairer are; But few, ah wondrous few there be, Who do not Gold prefer, O G.o.ddess, ev'n to thee.

XXIV.

Thro' the soft ways of Heav'n, and air, and sea, Which open all their pores to thee, Like a clear river thou dost glide, And with thy living stream through the close channels slide.

XXV.

But where firm bodies thy free course oppose, Gently thy source the land overflows; Takes there possession, and does make, Of colours mingled light, a thick and standing lake.

XXVI.

But the vast ocean of unbounded day In th'Empyraean heav'n does stay; Thy rivers, lakes, and springs below, From thence took first their rise, thither at last must flow.

Footnotes: 1. Wood's Fasti Oxon, vol. ii. col. 120.

2. Essay on himself.

3. Sprat's Account of Cowley.

Sir WILLIAM DAVENANT.

Few poets have been subjected to more various turns of fortune, than the gentleman whose memoirs we are now about to relate. He was amongst the first who refined our poetry, and did more for the interest of the drama, than any who ever wrote for the stage. He lived in times of general confusion, and was no unactive member of the state, when its necessities demanded his a.s.sistance; and when, with the restoration, politeness and genius began to revive, he applied himself to the promotion of these rational pleasures, which are fit to entertain a cultivated people. This great man was son of one Mr. John Davenant, a citizen of Oxford, and was born in the month of February, 1605; all the biographers of our poet have observed, that his father was a man of a grave disposition, and a gloomy turn of mind, which his son did not inherit from him, for he was as remarkably volatile, as his father was saturnine. The same biographers have celebrated our author's mother as very handsome, whose charms had the power of attracting the admiration of Shakespear, the highest compliment which ever was paid to beauty. As Mr. Davenant, our poet's father, kept a tavern, Shakespear, in his journies to Warwickshire, spent some time there, influenced, as many believe, by the engaging qualities of the handsome landlady. This circ.u.mstance has given rise to a conjecture, that Davenant was really the son of Shakespear, as well naturally as poetically, by an unlawful intrigue, between his mother and that great man; that this allegation is founded upon probability, no reader can believe, for we have such accounts of the amiable temper, and moral qualities of Shakespear, that we cannot suppose him to have been guilty of such an act of treachery, as violating the marriage honours; and however he might have been delighted with the conversation, or charmed with the person of Mrs. Davenant, yet as adultery was not then the fashionable vice, it would be injurious to his memory, so much as to suppose him guilty.

Our author received the first rudiments of polite learning from Mr.

Edward Sylvester, who kept a grammar school in the parish of All Saints in Oxford. In the year 1624, the same in which his father was Mayor of the city, he was entered a member of the university of Oxford, in Lincoln's-Inn College, under the tuition of Mr. Daniel Hough, but the Oxford antiquary is of opinion, he did not long remain there, as his mind was too much addicted to gaiety, to bear the austerities of an academical life, and being encouraged by some gentlemen, who admired the vivacity of his genius, he repaired to court, in hopes of making his fortune in that pleasing, but dangerous element. He became first page to Frances, d.u.c.h.ess of Richmond, a lady much celebrated in those days, as well for her beauty, as the influence she had at court, and her extraordinary taste for grandeur, which excited her to keep a kind of private court of her own, which, in our more fashionable aera, is known by the name of Drums, Routs, and Hurricanes. Sir William afterwards removed into the family of Sir Fulk Greville, lord Brooke, who being himself a man of taste and erudition, gave the most encouraging marks of esteem to our rising bard. This worthy n.o.bleman being brought to an immature fate, by the cruel hands of an a.s.sa.s.sin, 1628, Davenant was left without a patron, though not in very indigent circ.u.mstances, his reputation having increased, during the time he was in his lordship's service: the year ensuing the death of his patron, he produced his first play to the world, called Albovino, King of the Lombards, which met with a very general, and warm reception, and to which some very honourable recommendations were prefixed, when it was printed, in several copies of verses, by men of eminence, amongst whom, were, Sir Henry Blount, Edward Hyde, afterwards earl of Clarendon, and the honourable Henry Howard. Our author spent the next eight years of his life in a constant attendance upon court, where he was highly caressed by the most shining characters of the times, particularly by the earl of Dorset, Edward Hyde, and Lord Treasurer Weston: during these gay moments, spent in the court amus.e.m.e.nts, an unlucky accident happened to our author, which not a little deformed his face, which, from nature, was very handsome. Wood has affirmed, that this accident arose from libidinous dalliance with a handsome black girl in Axe-yard, Westminster. The plain fact is this, Davenant was of an amorous complexion, and was so unlucky as to carry the marks of his regular gallantries in the depression of his nose; this exposed him to the pleasant raillery of cotemporary wits, which very little affected him, and to shew that he was undisturbed by their merriment, he wrote a burlesque copy of verses upon himself. This accident happened pretty early in his life, since it gave occasion to the following stanzas in Sir John Suckling's Sessions of the Poets, which we have transcribed from a correct copy of Suckling's works.

Will Davenant ashamed of a foolish mischance, That he had got lately travelling in France, Modestly hop'd the handsomness of his muse, Might any deformity about him excuse.

Surely the company had been content, If they cou'd have found any precedent, But in all their records in verse, or prose, There was none of a laureat, who wanted a nose.

Suckling here differs from the Oxford historian, in saying that Sir William's disorder was contracted in France, but as Wood is the highest authority, it is more reasonable to embrace his observation, and probably, Suckling only mentioned France, in order that it might rhime with mischance.

Some time after this, Davenant was rallied by another hand, on account of this accident, as if it had been a jest that could never die; but what is more extraordinary, is, that Sir William himself could not forget the auth.o.r.ess of this misfortune, but has introduced her in his Gondibert, and, in the opinion of some critics, very improperly. He brings two friends, Ulfinore the elder, and Goltho the younger, on a journey to the court of Gondibert, but in this pa.s.sage to shew, as he would insinuate the extream frailty of youth, they were arrested by a very unexpected accident, notwithstanding the wife councils, which Ulfinore had just received from his father[1]. The lines which have an immediate reference to this fair enchantress, are too curious to be here omitted.

I.

The black-ey'd beauty did her pride display, Thro' a large window, and in jewels shone, As if to please the world, weeping for day, Night had put all her starry jewels on.

II.

This, beauty gaz'd on both, and Ulfinore Hung down his head, but yet did lift his eyes As if he fain would see a little more, For much, tho' bashful, he did beauty prize.

III [sic].

Goltho did like a blushless statue stare, Boldly her practis'd boldness did outlook; And even for fear she would mistrust her snare, Was ready to cry out, that he was took.

IV.

She, with a wicked woman's prosp'rous art, A seeming modesty, the window clos'd; Wisely delay'd his eyes, since of his heart She thought she had sufficiently dispos'd.

V.

Nicely as bridegroom's was her chamber drest, Her bed as brides, and richer than a throne; And sweeter seem'd than the Circania's nest.

Though built in Eastern groves of Cinnamon.

VI.

The price of princes pleasure, who her love, (Tho'! but false were) at rates so costly bought, The wealth of many, but many hourly prove Spoils to some one, by whom herself is caught.

VII.

She sway'd by sinful beauty's destiny, Finds her tyrannic power must now expire, Who meant to kindle Goltho in her eye, But to her breast has brought the raging fire.

IX [sic].

Yet even in simple love she uses art, Tho' weepings are from looser eyes, but leaks; Yet eldest lovers scarce would doubt her heart, So well she weeps, as she to Goltho speaks.

During our author's attendance at court, he wrote several plays, and employed his time in framing masques, which were acted by the princ.i.p.al n.o.bility of both s.e.xes; the Queen herself condescended to take a share in one of them, which gave very great offence to the scrupulous moralists, which sprung up in those days; the particular account of this dramatic piece we shall give in the conclusion of his life, and now proceed in enumerating the incidents of it.