Madagascar; with Other Poems/Elizium. To the Duchesse of Buckingham

4148842Madagascar; with Other Poems — Elizium. To the Duchesse of BuckinghamWilliam Davenant

Elizium.

To the Duchesse of

Bvckingham.

MADAM,
SO sleeps the Anchoret on his cheap bed,
(whose sleep wants only length to prove him dead)
As I last night, whom the swift wings of Thought,
Convey'd to see what our bold faith had taught;
Elizium, where restored formes nere fade;
Where growth can need no seeds, nor light a shade;
The joyes which in our flesh, through fraile expence
Of strentgh, through age, were lost t'our injur'd sense,
Wee there doe meet agen; and those we taste
Anew, which though devour'd, yet ever last:
The scatter'd treasure of the Spring, blowne by
Autumn's rude winds from our discoverie;
Lillies, and Roses; all that's faire and sweet,
There reconcil'd to their first roots we meet:
There, only those triumphant Lovers reigne,
Whose passions knew on earth so little staine,
Like Angels they nere felt what sexes meant;
Virtue, was first their nature, then intent:
There, toyling Victors safely are possest,
With servent youth, eternitie, and rest;
But they were such, who when they got the field;
To teach the conquer'd, victorie, could yeeld
Themselves againe; as if true glorie were
To bring the foe to courage, not to feare.
There are no talking Greeks, who their blood lost,
Not for the cause, but for a theame to boast;
As if they strove enough for Fame, that sought
To have their Batailes better told, than fought.
There I a Vestal's Shadow first did spy,
Who when a live with holy huswifry,
Trick'd up in lawne, and flow'ry Wreaths (each hand
Cleane as her thoughts) did'fore the Altar stand:
So busie still, strewing her Spice, and then
Removing Coales, vexing the Fire agen,
As if some queasie Goddesse had profess'd,
To taste no smoak that day, but what she dress'd:
This holy coyle she living kept; but farre
More busie now, with more delightfull care
Than when she watch'd the consecrated Flame,
Sh'attends the Shade of gentle Buckingham;
Who there unenvi'd sits, with Chaplets crownd;
And with wise scorne, smiles on the Peoples wound;
He call'd it so; for though it touch'd his heart,
His Nation feeles the rancour, and the smart.