The Argument. The deep Designs of Birtha in distress; Her Emrauld's virtue shews her Love's success. Wise Astragon with reason cures despair, And the Afflicted chides for partial Pray'r. With grief the secret Rivals take their leave, And but dark hope for hidden love receive.
1. TO shew the Morn her passage to the East, Now Birtha's dawn, the Lover's Day, appears! So soon Love beats Revellies in her Breast, And like the Dewy Morn, she rose in tears:
2. So much she did her jealous dreams dislike, Her Maids straight kindle by her light their Eyes; Which when to hers compar'd, Poets would strike Such sparks to light their Lamps, ere Day does rise.
3. But, O vain Jealousie! why dost thou haste To find those evils which too soon are brought? Love's frantick Valour! which so rashly fast Seeks dangers, as if none would come unsought.
4. As often fairest Morns soon cover'd be, So she with dark'ning thoughts is clouded now; Looks so, as weaker Eyes small objects see; Or studious States-men who contract the Brow.
5. Or like some thinking Sybill that would find The sence of mystick words by Angels giv'n! And this fair Politick bred in her mind (Restless as Seas) a deep designe on Heav'n.
6. To Pray'rs plain Temple she does hast unseen; Which though not grac'd with curious cost for show, Was nicely kept; and now must be as clean, As Tears make those who thence forgiven go.
7. For her own Hands (by which best Painter drew The Hands of Innocence) will make it shine; Penance, which newly from her terrors grew; And was (alas!) part of her deep designe.
8. And when this holy huswifry was past, Her vows she sends to Heav'n, which thither fly Intire; not broken by unthinking hast; Like Sinners Sparks that in ascending dye.
9. Thence she departs; but at this Temple Gate A needy Crowd (call'd by her Summons there) With such assurance for her bounty waite; As if ne'r failing Heav'n their Debtor were.
10. To these she store of Antique Treasure gave (For she no Money knew) Medals of Gold, Which curious Gath'rers did in travell save, And at high worth were to her Mother sold.
11. Figures of fighting Chiefs, born to orecome Those who without their leave would all destroy; Chiefs, who had brought renown to Athens, Rome, To Carthage, Tyre, and to lamented Troy.
12. Such was her wealth, her Mothers Legacy; And well she knew it was of special price; But she has begg'd what Heav'n must not deny; So would not make a common Sacrifice.
13. To the black Temple she her Sorrow bears; Where she out-begg'd the tardy begging Thief; Made weeping Magdaline but poor in Tears, Yet Silent as their Pictures was her Grief.
14. Her purpos'd penance she did here fulfill; Those Pictures dress'd, and the spent Lamp reliev'd With fragrant Oyls, dropp'd from her Silver Still; And now for those that there sat mourning, griev'd.
15. Those Penitients, who knew her innocence, Wonder what Parents sin she did bemoan; And venture (though they go unpardon'd thence) More sighs for her redress than for their own.
16. Now jealousie no more benights her face, Her courage beauteous grows, and grief decays; And with such joy as shipwrack'd Men imbrace The Shore, she hastens to the House of Praise.
17. And there the Gem she from her bosom took, (With which till now she trembled to advise) So far from pale, that Gondibert would look Pale, if he saw, how it out-shin'd her Eyes.
18. These Rays she to a Miracle prefers; And lustre that such beauty so defies, Had Poets seen (Love's partial Jewellers, Who count nought precious but their Mistress Eyes)
19. They would with grief a miracle confess! She enters straight to pay her gratitude; And could not think her beauty in distress, Whilst to her Love, her Lord is still subdu'd.
20. The Altar she with Imag'ry array'd; Where Needles boldly, as a Pencil, wrought The Story of that humble Syrian Mayd, Who Pitchers bore, yet Kings to Juda brought.
21. And there she of that precious Linnen spreds, Which in the consecrated Moneth is spun By Lombard Brides; for whom in empty Beds Their Bridegrooms sigh till the succeeding Moon.
22. 'Tis in that Moon, bleach'd by her fuller Light; And wash'd in Suds of Amber, till it grow Clean as this spreaders Hands, and those were white As rising Lilies, or as falling Snow.
23. The voluntary Quire of Birds she feeds, Which oft had here the Virgin-Consort fill'd; She diets them with Aromatick seeds; And quench'd their Thirst with Rainbowe-Dew distill'd.
24. Lord Astragon, whose tender care did wait Her progress, since her Morn so cloudy broke, Arrests her passage at this Temple Gate, And thus, he with a Father's license, spoke.
25. Why art thou now, who hast so joyfull liv'd Ere love thou knewst, become with Love so sad? If thou hast lost fair Virtue, then be griev'd; Else shew thou know'st her worth, by being glad.
26. Thy love's high soaring cannot be a crime; Nor can we, if a Spinster loves a King, Say that her love ambitiously does climb: Love seeks no honour, but does honour bring;
27. Mounts others value, and her own lets fall! Kings honour is but little, till made much By Subjects Tongues! Elixar-Love turns all To pow'rfull Gold, where it does onely touch.
28. Thou lov'st a Prince above thine own degree: Degree is Monarch's Art; Love, Nature's Law; In Love's free State all Pow'rs so levell'd be, That there, affection governs more than aw.
29. But thou dost love where Rhodalind does love; And thence thy griefs of jealousie begin; A cause which does thy sorrow vainly move; Since 'tis thy noble fate, and not thy Sin.
30. This vain and voluntary Load of grief (For Fate sent Love, thy will does sorrow bear) Thou to the Temple carry'st for relief, And so to Heav'n art guided by thy fear.
31. Wild Fear! Which has a Common-wealth devis'd In Heav'n's old Realm, and Saints in Senates fram'd; Such as by which, were Beasts well civilliz'd, They would suspect their Tamer Man, untam'd.
32. Wild Fear! Which has the Indian worship made, Where each unletter'd Priest the Godhead draws In such a form, as makes himself afraid; Disguising Mercy's shape in Teeth and Claws.
33. This false Guide, Fear, which does thy Reason sway, And turns thy valiant virtue to despair, Has brought thee here, to offer, and to pray; But Temples were not built for Cowards pray'r.
34. For when by Fear thy noble Reason's led (Reason, not Shape gives us so great degree Above our Subjects, Beasts) then Beasts may plead A right in Temples helps as well as we.
35. And here, with absent Reason thou dost weep To beg success in love; that Rhodalind May lose, what she as much does beg to keep, And may at least an equal audience find.
36. Mark Birtha, this unrighteous war of prayer! Like wrangling States, you ask a Monarch's aid, When you are weak, that you may better dare Lay claim, to what your passion would invade.
37. Long has th'ambitious World rudely preferr'd Their quarrels, which they call their pray'rs, to Heav'n; And thought that Heav'n would like themselves have err'd, Depriving some, of what's to others giv'n.
38. Thence Modern Faith becomes so weak and blind, Thinks Heav'n in ruling other Worlds employ'd, And is not mindfull of our abject Kind, Because all Sutes are not by all enjoy'd.
39. How firm was Faith, when humbly Sutes for need, Not choice were made? then (free from all despair As mod'rate Birds, who sing for daily seed) Like Birds, our Songs of praise included pray'r.
40. Thy Hopes are by thy Rivals virtue aw'd; Thy Rival Rhodalind, whose virtue shines On Hills, when brightest Planets are abroad; Thine privately, like Miners Lamps, in Mines.
41. The Court (where single Patterns are disgrac'd; Where glorious Vice, our weaker Eyes admire; And Virtue's plainness is by Art out-fac'd) She makes a Temple by her Vestal Fire.
42. Though there, Vice sweetly dress'd, does tempt like bliss Even Cautious Saints; and single Virtue seem Fantastick, where brave Vice in fashion is; Yet she has brought plain Virtue in esteem.
43. Yours is a virtue of inferiour rate, Herein the dark a Pattern, where 'tis barr'd From all your Sex that should her imitate, And of that pomp which should her Foes reward:
44. Retir'd, as weak Monasticks flie from care; Or devout Cowards steal to Forts, their Cells, From pleasures, which the worlds chief dangers are: Hers passes yours, as Valour Fear excels.
45. This is your Rival in your suit to Heav'n: But Heav'n is partial if it give to you What to her bolder Virtue should be giv'n; Since yours, pomps, Virtue's dangers, never knew.
46. Your suit would have your love with love repay'd; To which Arts conquests, when all science flows, Compar'd, are Students dreams; and triumphs made By glorious Courts and Camps, but painted shows.
47. Even Art's Dictators, who give Laws to Schools, Are but dead Heads; States-men, who Empire move, But prosp'rous Spies; and Victors, fighting Fools, When they their Trophies rank with those of Love.
48. And when against your fears I thus declame, (Yet make your danger more, whilst I decry Your worth to hers) then wisely fear I blame; For fears are hurtfull'st when attempts are high.
49. And you should think your noble dangers less, When most my praise does her renown prefer; For that takes off your hasty hope's excess; And when we little hope, we nothing fear.
50. Now you are taught your sickness, learn your cure; You shall to Court, and there serve Rhodalind; Trie if her virtue's force you can endure In the same Sphear, without eclipse of mind.
51. Your Lord may there your Souls compare; for we, Though Souls, like stars, make not their greatnes known; May find which greater than the other be; The Stars are measur'd by Comparison!
52. Your plighted Lord shall you ere long prefer To near attendance on this royal Maid: Quit then officious Fear! The Jealous fear They are not fearfull, when to death afraid.
53. These words he clos'd with kindness, and retir'd; In which her quick Ey'd Hope three blessings spy'd; With joy of being near her Lord, inspir'd, With seeing Courts', and having Virtue try'd.
54. She now with jealous questions utter'd fast, Fils Orgo's Ear, which there unmark'd are gon, As Throngs through guarded Gates, when all make haste, Not giving Warders time t' examine one.
55. She ask'd if Fame had render'd Rhodalind With favour, or in Truth's impartial shape? If Orna were to humble Virtue kind, And beauty could from Gartha's envy scape?
56. If Laura (whose faire Eyes those but invites Who to her wit ascribe the Victory) In conquest of a speechless Mayd delights? And ere to this prompt Orgo could reply,
57. She ask'd, in what consist the Charms of Court? Whether those pleasures so resistless were As common Country Travailers report, And such as innocence had cause to fear?
58. What kind of Angels shape young Fav'rites take? And being Angels, how they can be bad? Or why delight so cruelly to make Fair Country Mayds, return from Court so sad?
59. More had she ask'd (for study warm'd her brow, With thinking how her love might prosp'rous be) But that young Ulfinore approach'd her now, And Goltho, warmer with designe than she.
60. Though Goltho's hope (in Indian Feathers clad) Was light, and gay, as if he meant to flie; Yet he no farther than his Rival had Advanc'd in promise, from her Tongue, or Eye.
61. When distant, talk'd, as if he plighted were; For hope in Love, like Cowards in the War, Talks bravely till the enterprise be near; But then discretion dares not venture far.
62. He never durst approch her watchfull Eye With studious gazing, nor with sighs her Ear; But still seem'd frolick, like a States-man's Spie; As if his thoughtfull bus'ness were not there.
63. Still, Superstitious Lovers Beauty paint, (Thinking themselves but Devils) so divine, As if the thing belov'd, were all a Saint; And ev'ry place she enter'd, were a Shrine.
64. And though last Night were the auspitious time When they resolv'd to quit their bashfull fears; Yet soon (as to the Sun when Eaglets climbe) They stoop'd, And quench'd their daring Eyes in tears.
65. And now (for Hope, that formal Centry, stands All Winds and Showrs though there but vainly plac'd, They to Verona beg her dear commands; And look to be with parting kindness grac'd.
66. Both dayly journies meant, 'twixt this and Court: For taking leave is twice Love's sweet Repast; In being sweet, and then in being short; Like Manna, ready still, but cannot last.
67. Her Favours not in lib'ral looks she gave, But in a kind respectfull lowliness, Them honour gives, yet did her honour save; Which gently thus she did to both express.
68. High heav'n that did direct your Eyes the way To chuse so well, when you your friendship made, Still keep you joyn'd, that daring Envie may Fear such united Virtue to invade!
69. In your safe Breasts, the noble Gondibert Does trust the secret Treasure of his love; And I (grown Conscious of my low desert) Would not, you should that wealth for me improve.
70. I am a Flow'r that merit not the Spring! And he (the World's warm Sun,) in passing by Should think, when such as I leave flourishing, His Beams to Cedars haste, which else would die.
71. This from his humble Maid you may declare To him, on whom the good of humane kind Depends; and as his greatning is your care, So may your early love successes find!
72. So may that beauteous She, whom eithers Heart For virtue and delight of life shall chuse, Quit in your siege the long defence of Art, And Nature's freedom in a treatie lose.
73. This gave cold Ulfinore in Love's long Night Some hope of Day; as Sea-men that are run Far North-ward, find long Winters to be light, And in the Cynosure adore the Sun.
74. It shew'd to Goltho, not alone like Day, But like a Wedding Noon, who now grows strong Enough to speak, but that her beauties stay His Eyes, whose wonder soon arrests his Tongue.
75. Yet something he at parting seem'd to say, In prettie Flow'rs of Love's wild Rhetorick; Which mov'd not her, though Oratours thus sway Assemblies, which since wild, wild Musick like.
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