4364292Madagascar; with Other Poems — To the Lord B. in performance of a vow, that night to write to himWilliam Davenant
To the Lord B. in performance of a vow, that night to write to him.
My Lord, it hath beene ask'd, why 'mongst those few I singled out for Fame, I chose not you With early speed the first? but I, that strive My manners should preserve my Verse alive; That read Men, and my selfe; would not permit The boldnesse of my love, should tax my wit. There are degrees, that to the Altar lead; Where ev'ry rude, dull Sinner must not tread: 'Tis not to bring, a swift thankes-giving Tongue, Or prayers made as vehement as long, Can privilege a zealous Votarie, To come, where the High Priest should only be: Then why should I (where some more skilfull hand May offer Gummes, and Spice) strew Dust, and Sand And this (my chiefe of Lords) made me designe Those noble flames, sprung from your nobler Wine, To keepe my spirits warme; till I could prove My Numbers smooth, and mighty as my love: Yet such my treach'rous fate, that I this night (Fierce with untutor'd heat) did vow to write: But happy those, who undertake no more Than what their stock of rage hath rul'd before! It is a Poet's sinne, that doth excell In love, or wine, not to resolve how well, But strait how much to write; for then wee think The vast tumultuous Sea is but our Ink; The World, our Forest too; and that wee may Beleeve each Tree, that in it growes, a Bay. My Vow now kept, I'm loth (my Lord) to doe Wrong to your justice, and your mercy too; The last, if you vouchsafe; you will excuse A strong Religion here, though not a Muse.