And wisely ancients, by this needfull snare
Of gilded joys, did hide such bitterness
As most in marriage swallow with that care,
Which bashfully the wise will ne'r confess.
'Tis statesmen's musick, who state's fowlers be,
And singing birds, to catch the wilder, set;
So bring in more to tame society;

For wedlock, to the wilde, is the state's net. And this loud joy, before the marriage rites,

Like battail's musick which to fights prepare, Many to strife and sad success invites ;

For marriage is too oft but civil warr.

A truth too amply known to those who read
Great Hymen's roles, tho' he from lovers' eyes
Hides his most tragick stories of the dead, [rise.
Least all, like Goths, should 'gainst his temples
And thou (what ere thou art, who dost perchance,
With a hot reader's haste, this song pursue)
Mayst finde, too soon, thou dost too far advance,
And wish it all unread, or else untrue.

For it is sung, (though by a mourning voice)
That in the ides before these lovers had,
With Hymen's publick hand, confirm'd their choice,
A cruel practise did their peace invade.

For Hermegild too studiously foresaw

The count's allyance with the duke's high blood, Might from the Lombards such affection draw, As could by Hubert never be withstood.

And he in haste with Gartha does retire,

Where thus his breast he opens to prevent, That Hymen's hallow'd torch may not take fire, When all these lesser lights of joy are spent: "High Heaven (from whose best lights your beauty grows,

Born high, as highest mindes) preserve you still From such, who then appear resistless foes,

When they allyance joyn to armes and skill! "Most by conjunction planets harmfull are; So rivers joyning overflow the land, And forces joyu'd inake that destructive warre, Which else our common conduct may withstand. "Their knees to Hurgonil the people bow,

And worship Orna in her brother's right; They must be sever'd, or like palms will grow, Which, planted near, out-climbe their native height

“As windes, whose violence out-does all art,
Act all unseen; so we as secretly
These branches of that cedar, Gondibert,

Must force till his deep root in rising dy. "If we make noise whilst our deep workings last, Such rumour thro' thick towns unheeded flies, As winds thro' woods, and we (our great work past) Like winds will silence tongues, and scape from eyes."

E're this dark lesson she was clearer taught,

His enter'd slaves place at her rev'renc'd feet A spacious cabinet, with all things fraught, Which seem'd for wearing artful, rich, and sweet. With leisurely delight she by degrees

Lifts ev'ry till, does ev'ry drawer draw; But nought which to her sex belongs she sees, And for the male all nice adornments saw.

This seem'd to breed some strangeness in her eyes,
Which like a wanton wonder there began;
But straight she in the lower closet spies
Th' accomplish'd dress and garments of a man.
Then starting, she her hand shrunk nicely back,
As if she had been stung, or that she fear'd
This garment was the skin of that old snake,
Which at the fatal tree like man appear❜d.

The ambitious maid at scornfull distance stood,
And bravely seem'd of love's low vices free;
Though vicious in her minde, not in her blood:
Ambition is the minde's immodestie!

He knew great mindes, disorder'd by mistake,
Defend, thro' pride, the errours they repent;
And with a lover's fearfulness he spake

Thus humbly, that extremes he might prevent: "How ill (delightfull maid!) shall I deserve

My life's last flame, fed by your beauty's fire, If I shall vex your vertues, that preserve

Others' weak vertues, which would else expire. "How, more than death, shall I my life despise, When your fear'd frowns make me your service fear!

When I scarce dare to say, that the disguise
You shrink to see, you must vouchsafe to wear.
"So rude a law your int'rest will impose;
And solid int'rest must not yield to shame:
Vain shame, which fears you should such honour
As lasts but by intelligence with fame. [lose
"Number, which makes opinion law, can turn
This shape to fashion, which you scorn to use,
Because not by your sex as fashion worn;

And fashion is but that which numbers choose. "If you approve what numbers lawful think,

Be bold, for number cancels bashfulness; Extremes, from which a king would blushing shrink, Unblushing senates act as no excess."

Thus he his thoughts (the picture of his minde)

By a dark vayle to sudden sight deny'd, That she might prise what seem'd so hard to finde; For curtains promise worth in what they hide. He said her manhood would not strange appear In court, where all the fashion is disguise; Where masquerades are serious all the year: None known but strangers, nor secure but spies. All rules he reads of living great in courts,

Which some the art of wise dissembling call; For pow'r (born to have foes) much weight supports

By their false strength who thrust to make it fall. He bids her wear her beauty free as light; By cares as open be to all endeer'd; For the unthinking croud judge by their sight, And seem half eas'd, when they are fully heard, He shuts her breast even from familiar eyes;

For he who secrets (pow'r's chief treasure) spends To purchase friendship, friendship dearly buys: Since pow'r seeks great confed'rates, more than friends.

And now with councels more particular,

He taught her how to wear tow'rdes Rhodalind Her looks, which of the minde false pictures are ; And then how Orna may believe her kinde.

How Laura too may be (whose practis'd eyes
Can more detect the shape of forward love)
By treaty caught, though not by a surprise,
Whose aid would precious to her faction prove.
But here he ends his lecture, for he spy'd

(Adorn'd, as if to grace magnifique feasts) Bright Rhodalind, with the elected bride,

And with the bride all her selected guests.

They Gartha in their civil pity sought,

Whom they in midst of triumphs mist, and feare Least her full breast (with Hubert's sorrows fraught) She, like a mourner, came to empty here. But she and Hermegild are wilde with hast, As traytors are whom visitants surprise; Decyph'ring that which fearfully they cast In some dark place, where viler treason lies.

So open they the fatal cabinet,

To shut things slighter with the consequent; Then soon their rally'd looks in posture set,

And boldly with them to their triumphs went.

Tybalt, who Laura gravely ever led,

With ceaseless whispers laggs behinde the train, Trys, since her wary governour is dead,

How the fair fort he may by treaty gain.

For now unhappy Arnold she forsakes,

Yet is he blest that she does various prove, When his spent heart for no unkindness askes, Since from the light as sever'd as from love.

Yet as in storms and sickness newly gon,

Some clouds a while and strokes of faintness last; So, in her brow, so much of grief is shown, As shows a tempest or a sickness past.

But him no more with such sad eyes she seeks,

As even at feasts would make old tyrants weep; Nor more attempts to wake him with such shreeks, As threatned all where Death's deaf pris'ners sleep.

Hugo and him, as leaders, now she names,

Not much as lovers does their fame approve ; Nor her own fate, but chance of battel blames, As if they dy'd for honour, not for love.

This Tybalt saw, and findes that the turn'd stream
Came fairly flowing to refresh his heart;

Yet could he not forget the kinde esteem
She lately had of Arnold's high desert.

Nor does it often scape his memory,

How gravely he had vow'd, that if her eyes,
After such showres of love, were quickly drie,
He would them more than lamps in tombs
despise.

And whilst he watch'd like an industrious spy
Her sexe's changes, and revolts of youth,
He still reviv'd this vow as solemnly,

As senates count'nance laws, or synods truth. But men are frail, more glass than women are! Tybalt, who with a stay'd judicious heart Would love, grows vain amidst his gravest care: Love, free by nature, scorns the bonds of art! Laura (whose fort he by approach would gain)

With a weak sigh blows up his mine, and smiles, Gives fire but with her eye, and he is s'ain;

Or treats, and with a whisper him beguiles.

In this great league, their most important care Was to dispatch their rites; yet so provide, That all the court might think them free as ayre, When fast as faith they were by Hymen ty'd. "For if the king" (said he)" our love surprise,

His stormy rage will it rebellion call, Who claims to choose the brides of his allys,

And in that storm our joys in blossome fall.

"Our love your cautious father onely knowes, (On whose safe prudence senates may depend) And Goltho, who to time few reck'nings owes,

Yet can discharge all duties of a friend." Such was his minde, and hers (more busy) shows That bonds of love doe make her longer fast Than Hymen's knot, as plain religion does,

Longer than rites (religion's fashions) last. That her discretion somewhat does appeare, Since she can love, her mind's chief beauty, hide; Which never farther went than Thula's eare,

Who had (alas!) but for that secret di'de. That she already had disguises fram'd,

[side;

And sought out caves, where she might close reAs being nor unwilling nor asham'd

To live his captive, so she die his bride. Full of themselves, delight them onward leads, Where in the front was to remoter view Exalted hills, and nearer prostrate meads, With forrests flanck'd, where shade to darkness grew.

Beneath that shade two rivers slily steal,

Through narrow walks, to wider Adice,
Who swallows both, till proudly she does swell,
And hastes to show her beauty to the sea.
And here, whilst forth he sends his ranging eie,
Orgo he spies, who plies the spur so fast,
As if with newes of vict'ry he would flie

To leave swift Fame behinde him by his haste.
"If," (said the duke) " because this boy is come,
I second gladness show, doc not suppose
I spread my breast to give new comforts roome,
That were to welcome rain where Nylus flowes.
"Though the unripe appearance of a page
For weighty trust, may render him too weak,
Yet this is he, who, more than cautious age,

Or like calm death, will bury what we speak.
"This, Birtha, is the boy, whose skilless face
Is safe from jealousie of oldest spies;
In whom, by whisper, we from distant place
May meet, or wink our meaning to his eyes."
More had he said to gain him her esteem,

But Orgo enters speechless with his speed;
And by his looks more full of haste did seem,
Than when his spurs provok`d his flying steed.
And with his first recover'd breath he cryes:

Hail, my lov'd lord! whom Fame does vallue
That when she swift with your successes flies, [so,
She feares to wrong the world in being slow.
"I bring you more than tasts of Fortune's love,
Yet am afraid I err, in having dar'd
To think her favours could your gladness move,
Who have more worth than Fortune can reward.”
The duke, with smiles, forewarns his hasty tongue,
As loath he should proceed in telling more;
Kindly afraid to do his kindness wrong,

By hearing what he thought he knew before.
VOL VI.

"Thy diligence" (said he) "is high desert, It does in youth supply defects of skil, And is of duty the most useful part;

Yet art thou now but slow to Hurgonil:
"Who hither, by the Moon's imperfect light,
Came and return'd, without the help of day,
To tell me he has Orna's virgin plight,

And that their nuptials for my presence stay." Orgo reply'd: "Though that a triumph be, Where all false lovers are, like savage kings, Led captive after love's great victory,

It does but promise what your triumph brings. "It was the eve to this your holy-day!

And now Verona mistriss does appear Of Lombardy; and all the flowers which May E're wore, does as the countrie's favours wear. "The weary Eccho from the hills makes haste, Vex'd that the bells still call for her replies, When they so many are, and ring so faste; Yet oft are silenc'd by the people's cries: "Who send to Heav'n the name of Rhodalind, And then duke Gondibert as high they raise, To both with all their publick passion kinde,

If kindnesse shine in wishes and in praise. "The king this day made your adoption known, Proclaim'd you to the empire next ally'd, As heir to all his conquests and his crown, For royal Rhodalind must be your bride.” Not all the dangers valour findes in war,

Love meets in courts, or pride to courts procures, When sick with peace they hot in faction are,

Can make such fears as now the duke endures. Nor all those fears which ev'ry maid has found,

On whose first guards Love by surprises steals, (Whose sightless arrow makes a cureless wound) Are like to this which doubtful Birtha feels. He from his looks wild wonder strives to chase; Strives more to teach his manhood to resist. Death in her eyes; and then, with all the grace Of seeming pleasure, Orgo he dismist. And Orgo being gone, low as her knees

Could fall, she fell; and soon he bends as low With weight of heart, griev'd that no grave he sees, To sink where love no more can sorrow know. Her sighs, as showrs lay windes, are calm'd with tears;

And parting life seems stay'd awhile to take A civil leave, whilst her pale visage wears

A cleerer sky, and thus she weeping spake : "Since such a prince has forfeited his pow'r, Heav'n give me leave to make my duty less, Let me my vows as sudden oathes abhor,

Which did my passion, not my truth, express. "Yet yours I would not think were counterfeit, But rather ill and rashly understood; For 'tis impossible I can forget

So soon, that once you fatally were good. "Tho' cruel now as beasts where they have pow'r Choosing, like them, to make the weakest bleed, For weakness soon invites you to devour,

And a submission gives you ease to feed. "To fighting fields send all your honour back,

To courts your dang'rous tongue and civil shape, That country maids may men no more mistake, Nor seek dark death, that they may love escape."

Бе

Now soon to Heav'n her soul had found the way, (For there it oft had been in pray'r and praise) But that his vows did life with loudness stay,

And life's warm help did soon her body raise.

And now he gently leads her; for no more

He lets th' unhallow'd ground a faln flowre wear, Sweeter than Nature's bosome ever wore ;

And now these vows sends kindly to her ear: "If (Birtha) I am false, think none to blame

For thinking truth (by which the soul subsists) No farther to be found than in the name;

Think bumane kind betraid even by their priests.

"Think all my sex so vile, that you may chide

Those maids who to your mother's nuptials ran; And praise your mother, who so early dy'de,

Remembring whom she marry'd was a man. "This great court miracle you straight receive From Orgo, and your faith the whole allows : Why, since you Orgo's words so soon believe, Will you less civilly suspect my vowes?

" My vowes, which want the temple's seal, will binde

(Though private kept) surer than publick laws; For laws but force the body, but my minde

Your vertue councels, whilst your beauty draws." Thus spake he, but his mourning looks did more Attest his grief, and fear does hers renew; Now losing (were he lost) more than before, [true. For then she fear'd him false, now thinks him

As sick physitians seldome their own art

Dare trust, to cure their own disease, so these Were to themselves quite useless when apart; Yet, by consult, each can the other ease. But from themselves they now diverted stood; For Orgo's newes (which need not borrow wings, Since Orgo for his lord believ'd it good)

To Astragon the joyful houshold brings. But Astragon, with a judicious thought,

This day's glad news took in the dire portent; A day which mourning nights to Birtha brought, And with that fear in search of Birtha went. And here he findes her in her lover's eyes,

And him in hers; both more afflicted grown At his approach, for each his sorrow spies, Who thus would counsel theirs, and hide his own. "Though much this fatall joy to anger moves,

Yet reason's aydes shall anger's force subdue; I will not chide you for your hasty loves, Nor ever doubt (great prince) that yours is true. "In chiding Love, because he hasty was,

Or urging errours, which his swiftness brings, I finde effects, but dare not tax the cause;

For poets were inspir'd who gave him wings. "When low I digg, where desart rivers run,

Dive deep in seas, thro' forrests follow windes, Or reach with optick tubes the ragged Moon, My sight no cause of Love's swift motion findes. "Love's fatall baste, in yours, I will not blame, Because I know not why his wings were giv'n; Nor doubt him true, not knowing whence he came, Nor Birtha chide, who thought you came from Heav'n.

"If you lay snares, we err when we escape;
Since evil practise learns men to suspect
Where falshood is, and in your noble shape
We should, by finding it, our skill detect.
"Yet both your griefs l'le chide, as ignorance;
Call you unthankful; for your great griefs show
That Heav'n has never us'd you to mischance,
Yet rudely you repine to feel it now.

"If your contextures be so weak and nice,
Weep that this stormy world you ever knew;
You are not in those calmes of Paradice,
Where slender flowers as safe as cedars grew.

This, which your youth calls grief, was frowardIn flatter'd infancy, and as you beare [ness Unkindly now amidst youth's joys distress,

So then, unless still rock'd, you froward were. "Grief's conflicts gave these haires their silver shine;

(Torne ensignes which victorious age adorne) Youth is a dress too garish and too fine

To be in foule tempestuous weather worne. "Grief's want of use does dang'rous weakness make;

But we by use of burdens are made strong, And in our practis'd age can calmely take

Those sorrows which, like feavers, vex the young. "When you in Love's fair books (which poets keep)

Read what they hide, his tragick history, You will rejoyce that half your time is sleep, And smile at Love when Nature bids you die. "Learn then that Love's diseases common are;

Doe not in sickness known, (though new to you) Whilst vital heat does last, of cure despaire:

Love's vital heat does last whilst love is true."

Thus spake the kinde and prudent Astragon,

And much their kinde impatience he appeas'd; For of his griefs (which heavier than their own Were born by both) their dutions fears are eas'd. She begs that he would pardon her distress, Thought that even sin which did his sorrow move; And then, with all her mother's lowliness, His pardon craves for asking leave to love. The duke, who saw fair truth so undisguis'd, And love in all, but love so unconcern'd, Pitty'd the studious world, and all despis'd. Who did not here unlearn what they had learn`d.