Читать книгу Some Longer Elizabethan Poems - Группа авторов - Страница 9

As when a Nymph arising from the land,

Leadeth a dance, with her long watery train,

Down to the sea, she wries to every hand,

And every way doth cross the fertile plain;

But when, at last, she falls into the Main,

Then all her traverses concluded are,

And with the sea her course is circular.

64.

Thus, when, at first, Love had them marshallèd,

(As erst he did the shapeless mass of things)

He taught them Rounds and winding Heyes to tread,

And about trees to cast themselves in rings:

As the two Bears, whom the First Mover flings

With a short turn about Heaven's Axle-tree,

In a round dance for ever wheeling be.

65.

But after these, as men more civil grew,

He did more grave and solemn Measures frame;

With such fair order and proportion true,

And correspondence every way the same,

That no fault-finding eye did ever blame:

For every eye was movèd at the sight

With sober wondering, and with sweet delight.

66.

Not those old students of the heavenly book,

Atlas the great, Prometheus the wise;

Which on the stars did all their lifetime look,

Could ever find such measures in the skies,

So full of change and rare varieties:

Yet all the feet whereon these measures go

Are only Spondees, solemn, grave, and slow.

67.

But for more divers and more pleasing show,

A swift and wandering dance She did invent;

With passages uncertain, to and fro,

Yet with a certain Answer and Consent

To the quick music of the instrument.

Five was the number of the Music's feet;

Which still the Dance did with five paces meet.

68.

A gallant Dance! that lively doth bewray

A spirit and a virtue masculine;

Impatient that her house on earth should stay,

Since she herself is fiery and divine.

Oft doth she make her body upward flyne

With lofty turns and caprioles in the air,

Which with the lusty tunes accordeth fair.

69.

What shall I name those current travases,

That on a triple Dactyl foot, do run

Close by the ground, with sliding passages?

Wherein that dancer greatest praise hath won,

Which with best order can all orders shun;

For everywhere he wantonly must range.

And turn, and wind, with unexpected change.

70.

Yet is there one, the most delightful kind,

A lofty jumping, or a leaping round,

When, arm in arm, two dancers are entwined,

And whirl themselves, with strict embracements bound,

And still their feet an Anapest do sound;

An Anapest is all their music's song,

Whose first two feet are short, and third is long.

71.

As the victorious twins of Læda and Jove,

(That taught the Spartans dancing on the sands

Of swift Eurotas) dance in heaven above,

Knit and united with eternal bands;

Among the stars their double image stands,

Where both are carried with an equal pace,

Together jumping in their turning race.

72.

This is the net wherein the sun's bright eye

Venus and Mars entangled did behold;

For in this dance their arms they so imply,

As each doth seem the other to enfold.

What if lewd wits another tale have told,

Of jealous Vulcan, and of iron chains?

Yet this true sense that forged lie contains.

73.

These various forms of dancing Love did frame,

And besides these, a hundred millions moe;

And as he did invent, he taught the same:

With goodly gesture, and with comely show,

Now keeping state, now humbly honouring low.

And ever for the persons and the place,

He taught most fit, and best according grace.

74.

For Love, within his fertile working brain,

Did then conceive those gracious Virgins three,

Whose civil moderation did maintain

All decent order and conveniency,

And fair respect, and seemly modesty:

And then he thought it fit they should be born,

That their sweet presence Dancing might adorn.

75.

Hence is it, that these Graces painted are

With hand in hand, dancing an endless round;

And with regarding eyes, that still beware

That there be no disgrace amongst them found:

With equal foot they beat the flowery ground,

Laughing, or singing, as their Passions will;

Yet nothing that they do, becomes them ill.

76.

Thus Love taught men! and men thus learned of Love

Sweet Music's sound with feet to counterfeit:

Which was long time before high-thundering Jove

Was lifted up to Heaven's imperial seat.

For though by birth he were the Prince of Crete,

Nor Crete nor Heaven should that young Prince have seen,

If dancers with their timbrels had not been.

77.

Since when all ceremonious mysteries,

All sacred orgies and religious rites,

All pomps, and triumphs, and solemnities,

All funerals, nuptials, and like public sights,

All parliaments of peace, and warlike fights,

All learned arts, and every great affair,

A lively shape of Dancing seems to bear.

78.

For what did he, who, with his ten-tongued Lute,

Gave beasts and blocks an understanding ear;

Or rather into bestial minds and brutes

Shed and infused the beams of Reason clear?

Doubtless, for men that rude and savage were,

A civil form of Dancing he devised,

Wherewith unto their gods they sacrificed.

79.

So did Musæus, so Amphion did,

And Linus with his sweet enchanting Song,

And he whose hand the earth of monsters rid,

And had men's ears fast chainèd to his tongue,

And Theseus to his wood-born slaves among,

Used Dancing, as the finest policy

To plant Religion and Society.

80.

And therefore, now, the Thracian Orpheus' lyre

And Hercules himself are stellified,

And in high heaven, amidst the starry quire

Dancing their parts, continually do slide.

So, on the Zodiac, Ganymede doth ride,

And so is Hebe with the Muses nine,

For pleasing Jove with dancing, made divine.

81.

Wherefore was Proteus said himself to change

Into a stream, a lion, and a tree,

And many other forms fantastic strange,

As, in his fickle thought, he wished to be?

But that he danced with such facility,

As, like a lion, he could pace with pride,

Ply like a plant, and like a river slide.

82.

And how was Cœneus made, at first, a man,

And then a woman, then a man again,

But in a Dance? which when he first began

He the man's part in measure did sustain:

But when he changed into a second strain,

He danced the woman's part another space;

And then returned unto his former place.

83.

Hence sprang the fable of Tiresias,

That he the pleasure of both sexes tried;

For, in a dance, he man and woman was.

By often change of place, from side to side,

But, for the woman easily did slide,

And smoothly swim with cunning hidden Art,

He took more pleasure in a woman's part.

84.

So to a fish Venus herself did change,

And swimming through the soft and yielding wave,

With gentle motions did so smoothly range,

As none might see where she the water drave;

But this plain truth that falsèd fable gave,

That she did dance with sliding easiness,

Pliant and quick in wandering passages.

85.

And merry Bacchus practised dancing too,

And to the Lydian numbers Rounds did make.

The like he did in th' Eastern India do,

And taught them all, when Phœbus did awake,

And when at night he did his coach forsake,

To honour heaven, and heaven's great rolling eye,

With turning dances and with melody.

86.

Thus they who first did found a Common weal,

And they who first Religion did ordain,

By dancing first the people's hearts did steal:

Of whom we now a thousand tales do feign.

Yet do we now their perfect rules retain,

And use them still in such devices new;

As in the world, long since, their withering grew.

87.

For after Towns and Kingdoms founded were,

Between great states arose well-ordered war,

Wherein most perfect Measure doth appear:

Whether their well set Ranks respected are,

In quadrant forms or semicircular;

Or else the March, when all the troops advance,

Unto the drum in gallant order dance.

88.

And after wars, when white-winged Victory

Is with a glorious Triumph beautified;

And every one doth Ιῶ! Ιῶ! cry,

While all in gold the Conqueror doth ride;

The solemn pomp, that fills the city wide,

Observes such Rank and Measure everywhere,

As if they altogether dancing were.

89.

The like just order Mourners do observe,

But with unlike affection and attire,

When some great man, that nobly did deserve,

And whom his friends impatiently desire,

Is brought with honour to his latest fire.

The dead corpse, too, in that sad dance is moved

As if both dead and living dancing loved.

90.

A diverse cause, but like solemnity,

Unto the Temple leads the bashful bride,

Which blusheth like the Indian ivory

Which is with dip of Tyrian purple dyed:

A golden troop doth pass on every side,

Of flourishing young men and virgins gay,

Which keep fair Measure all the flowery way.

91.

And not alone the general multitude

But those choice Nestors, which in counsel grave

Of cities and of kingdoms do conclude,

Most comely order in their sessions have;

Wherefore the wise Thessalians ever gave

The name of Leader of their Country's Dance

To him that had their country's governance.

92.

And those great Masters of the liberal arts,

In all their several Schools, do Dancing teach;

For humble Grammar first doth set the parts

Of congruent and well according Speech,

Which Rhetoric, whose state the clouds doth reach,

And heavenly Poetry do forward lead,

And divers Measures diversely do tread.

93.

For Rhetoric clothing Speech in rich array,

The looser numbers teacheth her to range

With twenty tropes, and turnings every way,

And various figures and licentious change:

But Poetry, with rule and order strange,

So curiously doth move each single pace

As all is marred if she one foot misplace.

94.

These Arts of Speech the Guides and Marshals are,

But Logic leadeth Reason in a dance

(Reason, the Cynosure and bright Loadstar

In this world's sea, t' avoid the rocks of Chance),

For with close following, and continuance,

One reason doth another so ensue

As, in conclusion, still the Dance is true.

95.

So Music to her own sweet tunes doth trip,

With tricks of 3, 5, 8, 15, and more;

So doth the Art of Numbering seem to skip

From Even to Odd, in her proportioned score;

So do those skills, whose quick eyes do explore

The just dimension both of earth and heaven,

In all their rules observe a measure even.

96.

Lo, this is Dancing's true nobility;

Dancing, the Child of Music and of Love;

Dancing itself, both Love and Harmony;

Where all agree, and all in order move;

Dancing, the art that all Arts doth approve;

The sure Character of the world's consent,

The heavens true figure, and th'earth's ornament.

97.

The Queen, whose dainty ears had borne too long

The tedious praise of that she did despise,

Adding once more the music of the tongue

To the sweet speech of her alluring eyes;

Began to answer in such winning wise

As that forthwith Antinous' tongue was tied,

His eyes fast fixed, his ears were open wide.

98.

Forsooth, quoth she, great glory you have won

To your trim minion, Dancing, all this while,

By blazing him Love's first begotten son,

Of every ill the hateful father vile,

That doth the world with sorceries beguile,

Cunningly mad, religiously profane,

Wit's monster, Reason's canker, Sense's bane.

99.

Love taught the mother that unkind desire

To wash her hands in her own infants blood;

Love taught the daughter to betray her sire

Into most base unworthy servitude;

Love taught the brother to prepare such food

To feast his brothers that the all-seeing sun,

Wrapt in a cloud, the wicked sight did shun.

100.

And even this self-same Love hath Dancing taught,

An Art that shewed th' Idea of his mind

With vainness, frenzy, and misorder fraught;

Sometimes with blood and cruelties unkind,

For in a dance Tereus' mad wife did find

Fit time and place, by murdering her son,

T' avenge the wrong his traitorous sire had done.

101.

What mean the Mermaids, when they dance and sing,

But certain death unto the mariner?

What tidings do the dancing Dolphins bring,

But that some dangerous storm approacheth near?

Then since both Love and Dancing liveries bear

Of such ill hap unhappy may they prove

That, sitting free, will either dance or love!

102.

Yet, once again, Antinous did reply,

Great Queen! condemn not Love the innocent,

For this mischievous Lust, which traitorously

Usurps his Name, and steals his Ornament;

For that True Love, which Dancing did invent,

Is he that tuned the world's whole harmony,

And linked all men in sweet society.

103.

He first extracted from th' earth-mingled mind

That heavenly fire, or quintessence divine,

Which doth such sympathy in Beauty find

As is between the Elm and fruitful Vine,

And so to Beauty ever doth incline;

Life's life it is, and cordial to the heart,

And of our better part the better part.

104.

This is True Love, by that true Cupid got;

Which danceth Galliards in your amorous eyes,

But to your frozen heart approacheth not;

Only your heart he dares not enterprise,

And yet through every other part he flies,

And everywhere he nimbly danceth now,

Though in yourself yourself perceive not how.

105.

For your sweet beauty daintily transfused

With due proportion, throughout every part;

What is it but a dance where Love hath used

His finer cunning, and more curious Art?

Where all the Elements themselves impart,

And turn, and wind, and mingle with such measure

That th' eye that sees it surfeits with the pleasure.

106.

Love in the twinkling of your eyelids danceth,

Love dances in your pulses and your veins,

Love, when you sew, your needle's point advanceth,

And makes it dance a thousand curious strains

Of winding rounds; whereof the form remains

To shew that your fair hands can dance the Hey,

Which your fine feet would learn as well as they.

107.

And when your ivory fingers touch the strings

Of any silver-sounding instrument,

Love makes them dance to those sweet murmurings,

With busy skill and cunning excellent!

O that your feet, those tunes would represent

With artificial motions to and fro,

That Love this Art in every part might shew!

108.

Yet your fair soul, which came from heaven above

To rule this house (another heaven below)

With divers powers in harmony doth move;

And all the virtues that from her do flow

In a round measure, hand in hand do go:

Could I now see, as I conceive this dance,

Wonder and Love would cast me in a trance.

109.

The richest jewel in all the heavenly treasure,

That ever yet unto the earth was shown,

Is Perfect Concord th' only perfect pleasure,

That wretched earthborn men have ever known:

For many hearts it doth compound in one,

That what so one doth will, or speak, or do,

With one consent they all agree thereto.

110.

Concord's true picture shineth in this Art

Where divers men and women rankèd be,

And every one doth dance a several part,

Yet all as one in measure do agree,

Observing perfect uniformity:

All turn together, all together trace,

And all together honour and embrace.

111.

If they whom sacred Love hath linked in one,

Do, as they dance, in all their course of life;

Never shall burning grief nor bitter moan,

Nor factious difference, nor unkind strife,

Arise between the husband and the wife;

For whether forth, or back, or round he go,

As doth the man, so must the woman do.

112.

What, if by often interchange of place,

Sometimes the woman gets the upper hand?

That is but done for more delightful grace,

For on that part, she doth not ever stand;

But, as the Measures' law doth her command,

She wheels about, and, ere the dance doth end,

Into her former place she doth transcend.

113.

But not alone this correspondence meet

And uniform consent doth Dancing praise;

For Comeliness, the child of Order sweet,

Enamels it with her eye-pleasing rays:

Fair Comeliness, ten hundred thousand ways,

Through Dancing sheds itself, and makes it shine

With glorious beauty, and with grace divine.

114.

For Comeliness is a disposing fair

Of things and actions in fit time and place;

Which doth in Dancing shew itself most clear

When troops confused, which here and there do trace,

Without distinguishment or bounded space,

By dancing rule, into such ranks are brought,

As glads the eye, and ravisheth the thought.

115.

Then why should Reason judge that reasonless

Which is Wit's Offspring, and the work of Art,

Image of Concord, and of Comeliness?

Who sees a clock moving in every part,

A sailing pinnace, or a wheeling cart,

But thinks that Reason, ere it came to pass,

The first impulsive cause and mover was?

116.

Who sees an army all in rank advance,

But deems a wise Commander is in place,

Which leadeth on that brave victorious dance?

Much more in Dancing's Art, in Dancing's grace,

Blindness itself may Reason's footsteps trace;

For of Love's Maze it is the curious plot,

And of Man's Fellowship the true-love knot.

117.

But if these eyes of yours (Loadstars of Love!

Shewing the world's great Dance to your mind's eye)

Cannot, with all their demonstrations, move

Kind apprehension in your Phantasy

Of Dancing's virtue and nobility;

How can my barbarous tongue win you thereto,

Which heaven's and earth's fair speech could never do?

118.

O Love! my King! If all my Wit and power

Have done you all the service that they can;

O be you present, in this present hour,

And help your servant and your true liegeman!

End that persuasion, which I erst began!

For who in praise of Dancing can persuade

With such sweet force, as Love, which Dancing made?

119.

Love heard his prayer; and swifter than the wind,

(Like to a page in habit, face, and speech),

He came; and stood Antinous behind,

And many secrets of his thoughts did teach.

At last a crystal Mirror he did reach

Unto his hands, that he with one rash view

All forms therein by Love's revealing knew.

120.

And humbly honouring, gave it to the Queen,

With this fair speech, See, fairest Queen! quoth he,

The fairest sight that ever shall be seen,

And th' only wonder of posterity!

The richest work in Nature's treasury!

Which she disdains to shew on this world's stage,

And thinks it far too good for our rude age.

121.

But in another world, divided far,

In the great fortunate triangled Isle,

Thrice twelve degrees removed from the North Star,

She will this glorious Workmanship compile,

Which she hath been conceiving all this while

Since the world's birth; and will bring forth at last,

When six and twenty hundred years are past.

122.

Penelope the Queen, when she had viewed

The strange eye-dazzling admirable sight,

Fain would have praised the State and Pulchritude;

But she was stricken dumb with wonder quite,

Yet her sweet mind retained her thinking might.

Her ravished mind in heavenly thoughts did dwell;

But what she thought, no mortal tongue can tell.

123.

You, Lady Muse, whom Jove the Counsellor

Begot of Memory, Wisdom's Treasuress,

To your divining tongue is given a power

Of uttering secrets, large and limitless;

You can Penelope's strange thoughts express;

Which she conceived, and then would fain have told,

When she the wondrous Crystal did behold.

124.

Her wingèd thoughts bore up her mind so high

As that she weened she saw the glorious throne,

Where the bright Moon doth sit in Majesty:

A thousand sparkling stars about her shone,

But she herself did sparkle more, alone,

Than all those thousand beauties would have done,

If they had been confounded all in one.

125.

And yet she thought those stars moved in such measure,

To do their Sovereign honour and delight,

As soothed her mind with sweet enchanting pleasure,

Although the various Change amazed her sight,

And her weak judgement did entangle quite:

Besides, their moving made them shine more clear;

As diamonds moved more sparkling do appear.

126.

This was the Picture of her wondrous thought!

But who can wonder that her thought was so,

Sith Vulcan, King of Fire, that Mirror wrought

(Which things to come, present, and past doth know),

And there did represent in lively show

Our glorious English Court's divine Image,

As it should be in this our Golden Age?

[See duplicate ending from this point on the next pages.]

127.

Away, Terpsichore, light Muse, away!

And come, Urania, Prophetess divine!

Come, Muse of Heaven, my burning thirst allay!

Even now, for want of sacred drink, I pine:

In heavenly moisture dip this pen of mine,

And let my mouth with nectar overflow,

For I must more than mortal glory show!

128.

O that I had Homer's abundant vein,

I would hereof another Ilias make!

Or else the Man of Mantua's charmèd brain,

In whose large throat great Jove the thunder spake!

O that I could old Geoffrey's Muse awake,

Or borrow Colin's fair heroic style,

Or smooth my rhymes with Delia's servant's file!

129.

O could I, sweet Companion, sing like you

Which of a Shadow, under a shadow sing!

Or like fair Salves' sad lover true!

Or like the Bay, the marigold's darling,

Whose sudden verse, Love covers with his wing!

O that your brains were mingled all with mine,

T' enlarge my Wit for this great work divine!

130.

Yet Astrophel might one for all suffice.

Whose supple Muse camelion-like doth change

Into all forms of excellent device:

So might the Swallow, whose swift Muse doth range

Through rare Idæas and inventions strange,

And ever doth enjoy her joyful Spring,

And Sweeter than the Nightingale doth sing.

131.