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TO
Sr WIL. D'AVENANT,
Upon his two first Books of
GONDIBERT,
Finish'd before his Voyage to
America.
ME thinks Heroick Poesie till now,
Like some fantastick Fairy-land did show;
Gods, Devils, Nymphs, Witches, and Giants race,
And all but Man, in Mans best Work had place.
Thou like some worthy Knight, with sacred Arms
Dost drive the Monsters thence, and end the Charms:
In stead of those, dost Men and Manners plant,
The things which that rich Soyl did chiefly want.
But even thy Mortals do their Gods excell,
Taught by thy Muse to Fight and Love so well.
By fatal hands whilest present Empires fall,
Thine from the grave past Monarchies recal.
So much more thanks from humane kind does merit
The Poets fury, than the Zelots Spirit.
And from the grave thou mak'st this Empire rise,
Not like some dreadfull Ghost t'affright our Eyes,
But with more beauty and triumphant state,
Than when it crown'd at proud Verona sate.
So will our God re-build Mans perish'd frame,
And raise him up much better, yet the same:
Like some fantastick Fairy-land did show;
Gods, Devils, Nymphs, Witches, and Giants race,
And all but Man, in Mans best Work had place.
Thou like some worthy Knight, with sacred Arms
Dost drive the Monsters thence, and end the Charms:
In stead of those, dost Men and Manners plant,
The things which that rich Soyl did chiefly want.
But even thy Mortals do their Gods excell,
Taught by thy Muse to Fight and Love so well.
By fatal hands whilest present Empires fall,
Thine from the grave past Monarchies recal.
So much more thanks from humane kind does merit
The Poets fury, than the Zelots Spirit.
And from the grave thou mak'st this Empire rise,
Not like some dreadfull Ghost t'affright our Eyes,
But with more beauty and triumphant state,
Than when it crown'd at proud Verona sate.
So will our God re-build Mans perish'd frame,
And raise him up much better, yet the same:
So
