The Argument. Veronaby the Poet's Pencil drawn; WhereHurgonildid meet the early dawn: Her wealth shown by each Dwellers early'r care; Which soon by others peace, she reap'd by war. The slain, whose life her safetie was and pride, Are now in death their Fun'ral Rites deny'd.
1. SUnk near his Evening Region was the Sun, When Hurgonil with his lamented Load, And faithfull Tybalt their sad march begun To Fair Verona, where the Court aboad.
2. They slowly rode till Night's dominion ceast; When infant Morn (her scarce wak'd beams display'd) With a scant face peept shylie through the East, And seem'd as yet of the black world afraid.
3. But by increase of swift expansive light, The lost Horizon was apparent grown, And many Tow'rs salute at once their sight; The distant boasts of an Imperial Town.
4. Verona, sprung from noble Vera's name, Whom careless Time (still scatt'ring old Records Where they are loosly gather'd up by Fame) Proclaims the chief of ancient Tuscan Lords.
5. Verona borders on that fatal Plain; Whose barren thirst was quench'd with valiant blood, When the rough Cymbrians by fierce Marius slain, Left Hills of Bodies where their Ensigns stood.
6. So safely proud this Town did now appear, As if it but immortal Dwellers lack'd; As if Theodorick had ne'r been there, Nor Attila her wealth and beauty sack'd.
7. Here Hurgonil might follow with his Eye (As with deep stream it through the City pass'd) The fruitfull and the frighted Adice, Which thence from noise and nets to sea does haste.
8. And on her peopled Bank they might behold The toyls of conquest paid with works of pride; The Palace of King Agilulf the old, Or Monument, for ere 'twas built, he dy'd.
9. To it that Temple joyns, whose lofty Head The prospect of a swelling Hill commands; In whose cool womb the City springs are bred: On Dorique Pillars this tall Temple stands.
10. This to sooth Heav'n the bloody Clephes built, As if Heav'ns King so soft and easie were, So meanly hous'd in Heav'n, and kind to guilt, That he would be a Tyrant's Tenant here.
11. And now they might arrest their wand'ring sight With that which makes all other Objects lost; Makes Lombard greatness flat to Roman height, And Modern Builders blush, that else would boast:
12. An Amphytheater which has controll'd Unheeded conquests of advancing Age, Winds which have made the trembling world look old, And the uncivil Goth's malicious rage.
13. This great Flaminius did in youth erect, Where Cities sat to see whole Armies play Death's serious part: but this we may neglect To mark the bus'ness which begins with day.
14. As Day now op'ning fils the Hemisphear, And all at once; so quickly ev'ry street Does by an instant op'ning full appear, When from their dwellings busie Dwellers meet.
15. From wider Gates Oppressours sally there; Here creeps th'afflicted through a narrow Door; Groans under wrongs he has not strength to bear, Yet seeks for wealth to injure others more.
16. And here the early Lawyer mends his pace, For whom the earlier Cliant waited long; Here greedy Creditours their Debtours chace, Who scape by herding in th' indebted Throng.
17. Th' advent'rous Merchant, whom a Storm did wake, (His Ships on Adriatick Billows tost) Does hope of Eastern winds from Steeples take, And hastens there a Currier to the Coast.
18. Here through a secret Postern issues out The skar'd Adult'rer, who out-slept his time; Day, and the Husbands Spie alike does doubt, And with a half hid face would-hide his crime.
19. There from sick mirth neglectful Feasters reel; Who cares of want in wine's false Lethe sleep. There anxious empty Gamsters homeward steal, And fear to wake, ere they begin to sleep.
20. Here stooping Lab'rers slowly moving are; Beasts to the Rich, whose strength grows rude with ease; And would usurp, did not their Rulers care, With toile and tax their furious strength appease.
21. There th' Aged walk, whose needless carefulness Infects them past the Mindes best med'cin, sleep; There some to Temples early vows address, And for th'ore busie world most wisely weep.
22. To this vast Inn, where Tydes of strangers flow, The Morn and Hurgonil together came; The Morn, whose Dewy wings appear'd but slow, When Men the motion mark'd of swifter Fame.
23. For Fame (whose journeys are through waies unknown, Traceless and swift, and changing as the wind) The Morn and Hurgonil had much out-gone, Whilst temp'rate Truth mov'd patiently behind.
24. For some the Combat (to a Batail grown) Did apprehend in such prodigious shape, As if their living to the Dead were gone, And onely Fame did by her Wings escape.
25. Some said this Hunting falsely was design'd, That by pretence both Factions might prepare Their Armies to contest for Rhodalind, The Crown's chief Jewel, and Reward of War.
26. And some report (so far they range from Truth Who for intelligence must follow Fame) That then from Bergamo th'encamped Youth, With Gondibert, to this dire Hunting came.
27. And some, that Oswald had enlarg'd his Train With the old Troops by his bold Father led; And that of these the nobler half were slain, The rest were to their Camp at Brescia fled.
28. And as dire Thunder rowling ore Heav'ns vault, By murmure threatens, ere it kills aloud; So was this fatal news in whisper brought, Which menac'd, ere it struck the list'ning Croud.
29. But Rumour soon to high extreams does move, For first it Oswald nam'd with dreadfull voice; Then said that Death had widow'd Truth and Love, By making Gondibert the second choice.
30. And to all hearts so dear was Gondibert, So much did Pitie, Oswald's Valour prise, That strait their early bus'ness they desert, And fix on wounded Hurgonil their Eyes.
31. Him when by perfect day they sadly knew, Through hiddē wounds, whose blood his beauty stain'd, Even from the Temples, Angels soon withdrew, So sawcely th'afflicted there complain'd.
32. The People straight united clamour gave, Shriek'd loud like Sea-men split on a strange Coast; As if those Pow'rs were deaf who should them save, And Pray'rs no louder than the winds were lost.
33. Now, with impatience urg'd, he does declare Whom he so mournfully in Fun'ral brought; The publick losses of a private war, Who living, love, and valour, dying taught.
34. For he does Hugo and Arnoldo name, To these (said he) Verona Cradles gave, And since in forreign Fields they rais'd her Fame, They challenge here, though much too soon, a Grave.
35. Bring sprinklings, Lamps, and th'Altar's precious breath; All Rites which Priests have prudently devis'd, Who gratefully a rev'rence teach to death; Because they most by dying men are pris'd.
36. But though our loss we justly may complain, Though even by Priests authority we grieve; Yet Heav'n's first bounty, Life, let none disdain, Since Gondibert, our chief Delight, does live.
37. This heard, as Sea-men near a Shore unknown, Who their North Guide lose in a Stormy night, His absence with distracted silence moan, And loudly welcome his return to sight:
38. So when their great Conductor seem'd to be Retir'd to endless shades amongst the slain, With silent grief they seem'd as dead as he, But with new life welcom'd his life again.
39. And now that cold remainder Valour left Of these whom Love had lost, and Fate forsook; The Two that were of all but Fame bereft, From Hurgonil the weeping People took.
40. Whilst of them both sad Hurgonil takes leave, Till th' universal meeting Faith provides; The Day when all shall publickly receave Those Bodies, Death does not destroy, but Hides.
41. Then to his Palace he retires by stealth, His wounds from his lov'd Mistress to conceal, On whose dear joys so much depends his health; The wounds her Tears should touch would never heal.
42. To the chief Temple straight the People bear The valiant Rivals, who for love were slain; Whom all he peacefull Priests behold with fear, And griev'd such Guests they durst not entertain.
43. For soon the Prior of their Brotherhood (Who long serv'd Heav'n with praise, the world with pray'r) Cry'd out, this holy House is shut to blood, To all that die in combat or despair.
44. These by their bloody marks in Combat dy'd, Through anger, the disease of Beasts untam'd; Whose wrath is hunger, but in Men 'tis pride, Yet theirs is cruelty, ours courage nam'd.
45. Here the neglected Lord of peace does live; Who taught the wrangling world the rules of love, Should we his dwelling to the wrathfull give, Our Sainted Dead would rise, and he remove.
46. Well by his precepts may we punish strife, Whose pitie knew that Famine, Plague, and Time, Are Enemies enough to humane life, None need ore-charge Death's Quiver with a crime.
47. To unfrequented Fields bear then your slain, Where neither Dirge nor Requiem shall be giv'n; To those who by usurp'd Revenge disdain To take from Men, neglects they put on Heav'n.
48. But now the People's passions run too far; Their untaught love, artless extreams does wed; Of times they like the past, and since they are Opprest still by the living, love the Dead:
49. And now resolve these Rivals shall not lose The Rites of Sprinkling, Incense, Lights, and Song; Then as the voice of all their Minds, they chuse An Oratour, of rude, but ready Tongue:
50. Who at the Temple Gate thus pleads aloud! We know, though Priests are Pensioners of Heav'n, Your Flock which yields best rent, is this dull Croud; The learn'd examine why their Fleece is giv'n.
51. Though by the Rich first shorn, to you they bear A second tribute, and by zeal support Temples which Kings for glory raise, and where The Rich for fame, the Learn'd as Spies resort.
52. Temples are yours, not God's lov'd Palaces, Where Off'rings make not his, but your own Feasts; Where you most wisely live, because at ease, And entertain your Founders as your Guests:
53. With ease you take what we provide with care; And we (who your Legation must maintain) Find all your Tribe in the Commission are; And none but Heav'n could send so large a Train.
54. But being all Ambassadours from thence, The growing charge will soon exceed our rent, Unless you please to treat at his expence Who sent you; not at ours, where you are sent.
55. The ancient Laws liv'd in the Peoples voice; Rites you from Custom, not from Canon draw; They are but fashions of a graver choice, Which yield to Laws, and now our voice is Law.
56. This Tybalt heard with sorrow and disdain, (Who here with Hurgonil a Mourner came) And strait the peacefull Fathers strives to gain, And thus the Peoples Oratour reclaim.
57. Most usefull Fathers! some trace secret things Even to his Closet, who is hid in Heav'n; Vainly as Nilus to his hidden springs, And not enjoy, but censure what is giv'n.
58. You with such temper their intemp'rance bear, To shew your solid science does rely So on it self, as you no trial fear; For Arts are weak that are of Scepticks shie.
59. Though in your Office humane safety lies, Which opes that Hell the vicious vulgar fear, Yet never can the People Priesthood prise; As if from Heav'n your daily errands were.
60. Not that your message, Truth they disesteem, Or think it comes from any other way, But that they Taxes hate, and Truth does seem Brought as a Tax, when they the Bringers pay.
61. Thus we to Beasts, fall from our noble kind, Making our Pastur'd Bodies all our care; Allowing no subsistence to the Mind, For Truth we grudge her as a costly fare.
62. But if they fear (since daily you renew Disputes) your Oracles are doubtfull still As those of old; yet more reward is due To pains, where so uneasie is the skill.
63. Or if no skill they think it, but suppose 'Tis Faith (& Faith ne'r thinks Heav'n's height too high Yet Faiths so sev'ral be, that few are those Can chuse right wings, when they to Heav'n would flie.
64. Or if they think, Faith humane help transcends, And to your Science is so strict a bound As Death to Valour is, where daring ends; And none are farthest in that Progress found;
65. Yet in our walk to our last home design'd, 'Tis safe by all the study'd Guides to go; Lest we in death, too late, the knowledge find Of what in life 'twas possible to know.
66. Your Pomp, by which your Pow'r in count'nance dures, Though costly, costs much less than Camps or Laws; And more than both, Religion us secures; Since Hell (your Prison) more than dying aws.
67. For though the plain Judge, Conscience, makes no show, But silently to her dark Session comes, Not as red Law does to arraignment go, Or War to Execution with loud Drums;
68. Though she on Hills sets not her Gibbets high, Where frightfull Law sets hers; nor bloody seems Like War in Colours spred, yet secretly She does her work, and many a Man condemns.
69. Chokes in the seed, what Law, till ripe, ne'r sees; What Law would punish, Conscience can prevent; And so the world from many Mischiefs frees; Known by her Cures, as Law by punishment.
70. The weaker sighted ever look too nigh; But their disputes have made your Charter good; As doubted Tenures, which long pleadings trie, Authentick grow by being much withstood.
71. These Chiefs, for whom we holy Rites desire, By well fought Fields begot this Cities peace; Oft with their blood have quench'd intestine fire; And oft our famines chang'd to glad excess.
72. Their Rites let not the people be deny'd, Though by untutor'd kindness rudely sought; Nor think they have in private Combat dy'd, Where Gondibert and mighty Oswald fought.
73. Both Princes of the Lombards royal blood; For whom full Thrice Three Hundred number'd are, Whose anger strove to make their anger good; Number gives strife th'authentick name of War.
74. This said, Wars cause these Priests no more debate, They knew, War's Justice none could ere decide; At that more specious name they open strait, And sacred Rites of Fun'ral they provide.
75. How vain is Custom, and how guilty Pow'r? Slaughter is lawfull made by the excess; Earth's partial Laws, just Heav'n must needs abhor, Which greater crimes allow, and damn the less.
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