And launch your hearts with lamentable
Of fecret forrow and fad languishment,
Before your Loves did take you unto grace;
Those now renew, as fitter for this place.
For I that rule, in meafure moderate,
The tempeft of that ftormie paffion,
And use to paint in rimes the troublous state
Of lovers life in likeft fashion,
Am put from practise of my kindlie skill, Banisht by those that Love with leawdnes fill.
Love wont to be schoolmaster of my skill,
And the devicefull matter of my fong;
Sweete Love devoyd of villanie or ill,
But pure and spotles, as at firft he fprong
Out of th' Almighties bofome, where he nefts;
From thence infufed into mortall brefts.
Such high conceipt of that celeftiall fire,
The base-borne brood of Blindnes cannot geffe,
Ne ever dare their dunghill thoughts afpire
Unto fo loftie pitch of perfectneffe,
But rime at riot, and doo rage in love;
Yet little wote what doth thereto behove.
their dunghill thoughts] See the
note on dunghill mind," F. Q. vi. vii. 1. T. WARTON.
Faire Cytheree, the mother of Delight,
And queene of Beautie, now thou maist go pack;
For lo thy Kingdome is defaced quight,
Thy fcepter rent, and power put to wrack; 400
And thy gay Sonne, the winged god of Love,
May now goe prune his plumes like ruffed dove.
And ye
three Twins, to light by Venus brought;
The fweete companions of the Mufes late,
From whom whatever thing is goodly thought,
Doth borrow grace, the fancie to aggrate; 406
Go beg with us, and be companions still,
As heretofore of good, fo now of ill.
For neither you nor we shall anie more
Find entertainment or in Court or Schoole:
For that, which was accounted heretofore
The learneds meede, is now lent to the foole;
He fings of love, and maketh loving layes,
And they him heare, and they him highly
prayfe.-
Ver. 403. And ye three Twins,] Three Twins, it must be acknowledged, is an extraordinary expreffion. Milton's birth of the three Graces is thus elegantly and unexceptionably related :
"Whom lovely Venus, at a birth,
"With two fifter Graces more,
"To ivy-crowned Bacchus bore." TODD.
With that the powred foorth a brackish flood 415
Of bitter teares, and made exceeding mone;
And all her Sifters, feeing her fad mood,
With lowd laments her anfwered all at one.
So ended the: and then the next in rew
Began her grievous plaint, as doth enfew. 420
TO whom fhall I my evill cafe complaine,
Or tell the anguish of my inward smart,
Sith none is left to remedie my paine,
Or deignes to pitie a perplexed hart ;
But rather feekes my forrow to augment
With fowle reproach, and cruell banishment?
For they, to whom I used to applie
The faithfull fervice of my learned skill,
The goodly off-fpring of Ioves progenie,
That wont the world with famous acts to fill;
Whofe living praises in heroick style,
It is my chiefe profeffion to compyle;
They, all corrupted through the ruft of time,
That doth all faireft things on earth deface,
Or through unnoble floth, or finfull crime, 435
That doth degenerate the noble race;
Have both defire of worthie deeds forlorne,
And name of learning utterly doo scorne.
Ne doo they care to have the aunceftrie
Of th' old Heroës memorizde anew;
Ne doo they care that late pofteritie
Should know their names, or speak their praises
dew,
But die forgot from whence at first they sprong,
As they themselves fhalbe forgot ere long.
What bootes it then to come from glorious 445
Forefathers, or to have been nobly bredd?
What oddes twixt Irus and old Inachus,
Twixt beft and worst, when both alike are dedd;
If none of neither mention fhould make,
Nor out of duft their memories awake?
Or who would ever care to doo brave deed,
Or strive in vertue others to excell;
If none fhould yeeld him his deferved meed, Due praise, that is the spur of dooing well? For if good were not praised more than ill, 455 None would choose goodnes of his owne freewill.
Therefore the Nurfe of Vertue I am hight,
And golden Trompet of Eternitie,
Ver. 447. What oddes twixt Irus and old Inachus, &c.] Hor. Od. II. iii. 21.
"Divefne prifco natus ab Inacho
"Nil intereft, an pauper et infima
"De gente fub divo moreris, &c." T. WARTON.
That lowly thoughts lift up to heavens hight, And mortall men have powre to deifie : Bacchus and Hercules I raifd to heaven, And Charlemaine amongst the starris seaven.
But now I will my golden clarion rend,
And will henceforth immortalize no more;
Sith I no more find worthie to commend
For prize of value, or for learned lore:
For noble Peeres, whom I was wont to raise,
Now onely feeke for pleasure, nought for praife.
Their great revenues all in fumptuous pride They spend, that nought to learning they may spare;
And the rich fee, which Poets wont divide,
Now Parafites and Sycophants doo fhare:
Therefore I mourne and endleffe forrow make,
Both for
my felfe and for my Sifters fake.
With that she lowdly gan to waile and shrike, 475
And from her eyes a fea of teares did powre;
And all her Sifters, with compaffion like,
Did more increase the fharpnes of her showre.
So ended the: and then the next in rew
Began her plaint, as doth herein enfew.
Ver. 469. Their great revenues &c.] See the Life of the Poet. TODD.
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