Classic Poem

INDVCTIO

Now that our Soueraign, the great King of Peace,
Hath (in her grace) outlabour'd Hercules;
And, past his Pillars, stretcht her victories;
Since (as he were sole Soule, t'all Royalties)
He moues all Kings, in this vast Vniuerse,
To cast chaste Nettes, on th'impious lust of Mars;
See, All; and imitate his goodnesse still;
That (hauing cleard so well, warres outward ill)
Hee, God-like, still employes his firme desires,
To cast learn'd ynke vpon those inwarde fires,
That kindle worse Warre, in the mindes of men,
Like to incense the outward Warre againe:
Selfe-loue, inflaming so, mens sensuall bloud,
That all good, publique, drownes in priuate good;
And that, sinks vnder, his owne ouer-freight;
Mens Reasons, and their Learnings, shipwrackt quite;
And their Religion, that should still be One,
Takes shapes so many, that most know't in none.
Which, I admiring (since, in each man shinde
A light so cleere, that by it, all might finde
(Being well informd) their obiect perfect Peace,
Which keepes the narrow path to Happinesse)
In that discourse; I shund, (as is my vse)
The iarring preace, and all their times abuse;
T'enioy least trodden fieldes, and fre'est shades;
Wherein (of all the pleasure that inuades
The life of man, and flies all vulgar feet,
Since silent meditation is most sweet)
I sat to it; discoursing what maine want
So ransackt man; that it did quite supplant
The inward Peace I spake of; letting in
(At his loose veines) sad warre, and all his sinne.
When, sodainely, a comfortable light
Brake through the shade; and, after it, the sight
Of a most graue, and goodly person shinde;
With eys turnd vpwards, & was outward, blind;
But, inward; past, and future things, he sawe;
And was to both, and present times, their lawe.
His sacred bosome was so full of fire,
That t'was transparent; and made him expire
His breath in flames, that did instruct (me thought)
And (as my soule were then at full) they wrought.
At which, I casting downe my humble eyes,
Not daring to attempt their feruencies;
He thus bespake me; Deare minde, do not feare
My strange apparance; Now t'is time t'outweare
Thy bashfull disposition, and put on
As confident a countnance, as the Sunne.
For what hast thou to looke on, more diuine,
And horrid, then man is; as hee should shine,
And as he doth? what, free'd from this worlds strife;
What he is entring; and what, ending life?
All which, thou onely studiest, and dost knowe;
And, more then which, is onely sought for showe.
Thou must not vnderualue what thou hast,
In weighing it with that, which more is grac't;
The worth that weigheth inward, should not long
For outward prices. This should make thee strong
In thy close value; Nought so good can be
As that which lasts good, betwixt God, and thee.
Remember thine owne verse — Should Heauen turn Hell,
For deedes well done, I would do euer well.
This heard, with ioy enough, to breake the twine
Of life and soule, so apt to breake as mine;
I brake into a trance, and then remainde
(Like him) an onely soule; and so obtainde
Such bouldnesse, by the sense hee did controule;
That I set looke, to looke; and soule to soule.
I view'd him at his brightest; though, alas,
With all acknowledgement, of what hee was
Beyond what I found habited in me;
And thus I spake; O thou that (blinde) dost see
My hart, and soule; what may I reckon thee?
Whose heauenly look showes not; nor voice sounds man?
I am (sayd hee) that spirit Elysian ,
That (in thy natiue ayre; and on the hill
Next Hitchins left hand) did thy bosome fill,
With such a flood of soule; that thou wert faine
(With acclamations of her Rapture then)
To vent it, to the Echoes of the vale;
When (meditating of me) a sweet gale
Brought me vpon thee; and thou didst inherit
My true sense (for the time then) in my spirit;
And I, inuisiblie, went prompting thee,
To those fayre Greenes, where thou didst english me.
Scarce he had vttered this, when well I knewe
It was my Princes Homer; whose deare viewe
Renew'd my gratefull memorie of the grace
His Highnesse did me for him: which, in face,
Me thought the Spirit show'd, was his delight;
And added glory to his heauenly plight:
Who tould me, he brought stay to all my state;
That hee was Angell to me; Starre, and Fate;
Aduancing Colours of good hope to me;
And tould me, my retired age should see
Heauens blessing, in a free, and harmelesse life,
Conduct me, through Earths peace-pretending strife,
To that true Peace, whose search I still intend,
And to the calme Shore of a loued ende.
But now, as I cast round my rauisht eye,
To see, if this free Soule had companie;
Or that, alone, hee louingly pursude
The hidden places of my Solitude;
He rent a Cloude downe, with his burning hand
That at his backe hung, twixt me, and a Land
Neuer inhabited; and sayd; Now, behould
What maine defect it is that doth enfould
The World, in ominous flatteries of a Peace
So full of worse then warre; whose sterne encrease
Deuours her issue. With which words, I view'd
A Lady, like a Deitie indew'd;
(But weeping, like a woman) and made way
Out of one Thicket, that sawe neuer day,
Towards another; bearing vnderneath
Her arme, a Coffine, for some prize of death;
And after her (in funerall forme) did goe
The woddes foure-footed Beasts, by two, and two;
A Male, and Female, matcht, of euerie kinde;
And after them; with like instinct enclinde,
The ayrie Nation felt her sorrowes stings;
Fell on the earth, kept rancke, and hung their wings.
Which sight I much did pittie, and admire;
And longd to knowe the dame that could inspire
Those Bestials, with such humane Forme, and ruthe;
And how I now should knowe, the hidden Truthe
(As Homer promist) of that maine defect
That makes men, all their inward Peace reiect
For name of outward: Then hee took my hand;
Led to her; and would make my selfe demand,
(Though he could haue resolv'd me) what shee was?
And from what cause, those strange effects had pass?
For whom, She bore that Coffine? and so mournd?
To all which; with all mildnesse, she returnd
Aunswere; that she was Peace; sent down from heauen
With charge, from the Almightie Deitie giuen,
T'attend on men; who now had banisht her
From their societies, and made her erre
In that wilde desert; onely Humane loue
(Banisht in like sort) did a long time proue
That life with her; but now, alas, was dead,
And lay in that wood to bee buried;
For whom she bore that Coffine, and did mourne;
And that those Beasts were so much humane, borne,
That they, in nature, felt a loue to Peace;
For which, they followd her, when men did cease.
This went so neere her heart, it left her tongue;
And (silent) she gaue time, to note whence sprung
Mens want of Peace, which was from want of loue:
And I observ'd now, what that peace did proue
That men made shift with, & did so much please.
For now, the Sunne declining to the Seas,
Made long misshapen shadowes; and true Peace
(Here walking in his Beames) cast such encrease
Of shaddowe from her; that I saw it glide
Through Citties, Courts, and Countryes; and descride,
How, in her shadowe only, men there liv'd,
While shee walkt here ith Sunne: and all that thriv'd
Hid in that shade their thrift; nought but her shade
Was Bullwarke gainst all warre that might inuade
Their Countries, or their Consciences; since Loue
(That should giue Peace, her substance) now they droue
Into the Deserts; where hee sufferd Fate,
And whose sad Funerals Beasts must celebrate.
With whom, I freely wisht, I had beene nurst;
Because they follow Nature, at their wurst;
And at their best, did teach her. As wee went
I felt a scruple, which I durst not vent,
No not to Peace her selfe, whom it concernd,
For feare to wrong her; So well I haue learnd,
To shun iniustice, euen to doues, or flies;
But, to the Diuell, or the Destinies,
Where I am iust, and knowe I honour Truth,
Ile speake my thoughts, in scorne of what ensu'th.
Yet (not resolv'd in th'other) there did shine
A Beame of Homers fre'er soule, in mine,
That made me see, I might propose my doubt;
Which was; If this were true Peace I found out,
That felt such passion? I prov'd her sad part;
And prayd her call, her voice out of her hart
(There, kept a wrongfull prisoner to her woe)
To answere, why shee was afflicted so.
Or how, in her, such contraries could fall;
That taught all ioy, and was the life of all?
Shee aunswered; Homer tould me that there are
Passions, in which corruption hath no share;
There is a ioy of soule; and why not then
A griefe of soule, that is no skathe to men?
For both are Passions, though not such as raigne
In blood, and humor, that engender paine.
Free sufferance for the truth, makes sorrow sing,
And mourning farre more sweet, then banqueting.
Good, that deserueth ioy (receiuing ill)
Doth merit iustly, as much sorrow still:
And is it a corruption to do right?
Griefe, that dischargeth Conscience, is delight:
One sets the other off. To stand at gaze
In one position, is a stupide maze,
Fit for a Statue. This resolv'd me well,
That Griefe, in Peace, and Peace in Griefe might dwell.
And now fell all things from their naturall Birth:
Passion in Heauen; Stupiditie, in Earth,
Inuerted all; the Muses, Vertues, Graces,
Now sufferd rude, and miserable chaces
From mens societies, to that desert heath;
And after them, Religion (chac't by death)
Came weeping, bleeding to the Funerall:
Sought her deare Mother Peace; and downe did fall,
Before her, fainting, on her horned knees;
Turnd horne, with praying for the miseries
She left the world in; desperate in their sinne;
Marble, her knees pearc't; but heauen could not winne
To stay the weightie ruine of his Glorie
In her sad Exile; all the memorie
Of heauen, and heauenly things, rac't of all hands;
Heauen moues so farre off, that men say it stands;
And Earth is turnd the true, and mouing Heauen;
And so tis left; and so is all Truth driuen
From her false bosome; all is left alone,
Till all bee orderd with confusion.
Thus the poore broode of Peace; driuen, & distrest,
Lay brooded all beneath their mothers breast;
Who fell vpon them weeping, as they fell:
All were so pinde, that she containde them well.
And in this Chaos, the digestion
And beautie of the world, lay thrust and throwne.
In this deiection, Peace pourd out her Teares,
Worded (with some pause) in my wounded Eares.