now shew themselves to our ripe wits, which will certainly give them no other entertainment, but derision. For myself, I cannot account that worthy of your patronage, which comes forth so short of my desires, thereby meriting no other light than the fire. But since you please to have them see more day, than their credit can well endure, marvel not if they fly under your shadow, to cover them from the piercing eye of this very curious yet more censorious age. In letting them go abroad, I desire only to testify how much I prefer your desires before mine own, and how much I owe to you more than any other. This if they witness for me, it is all the service I require. Sir, I leave them to your tuition, and entreat you to love him, who will contend with you in nothing but to out-love you, and would be known to the world by no other Name, than Your true Friend, PHINEAS FLETCHER. HILGAY, May 1, 1633. THE PURPLE ISLAND. CANTO I. I. THE warmer sun the golden bull outran, The shepherd-boys, who with the muses dwell, Their rural sports and year that next ensues: Now were they sat, where by the garden walls And lowly down before that royal temple falls. *To take up temporary abode. So Donne :..." Inn any where, Continuance is hell." B III. Among the rout they take two gentle swains, Whose sprouting youth did now but greenly bud ; Their nearest blood from self-same fountains flow, Now when the shepherd-lads, with common voice, A gentle boy began to wave their choice ;— Or thy poor Thelgon's wrong, in mournful verse to plain; V. Yet, since the shepherd-swains do all consent To make thee lord of them, and of their art; And that choice lad, to give a full content, Hath join'd with thee in office as in heart; Wake, wake thy long, thy too long sleeping muse, Such honour thus conferr'd, thou may'st not well refuse, Sing what thou list, be it of Cupid's spite, A better mind and sacred vow destroys, Since in a higher Love I settled all my joys. The Author speaks here of himself and his brother; who was also a Poet. tie. Custom. VII. But if you deign my ruder pipe to hear, (Rude pipe, unus'd, untun'd, unworthy hearing) These infantile beginnings gently bear, Whose best desert and hope must be your bearing. But you, O muses, by soft Camus sitting, Your dainty songs unto his murmurs fitting, Which bear the under-song unto your cheerful dittying ;VIII. Tell me, ye muses, what hath former ages, Now left succeeding times to play upon ? What light'ning heroes, like great Peleus' heir Who knows not Jason? or bold Tiphys' hand,* O'er seas, as earth, he march'd with dangerous art: Who has not often read Troy's twice sung fires, And at the second time twice better sung Who hath not heard th' Arcadian shepherd's quires, And thou, choice wit! love's scholar, and love's master, Art known to all, where love himself is known* ; Whether thou bidd'st Ulysses hie him faster; Or dost thy fault and distant exile moan; Who hath not seen upon the tragic stage, Dire Atreus feast, and wrong'd Medea rage, Marching in tragic state, and buskin'd equipage? XII. And now of late + th'Italian fisher-swain Sits on the shore to watch his trembling line, There teaches rocks and prouder seas to plain By Nesis fair, and fairer Mergiline: Whilst his thin net, upon his oars entwin'd, With wanton strife catches the sun and wind; Which still do slip away, and still remain behind. XIII. And that French muse's eagle eye and wing, Hath soar'd to heav'n, and there hath learn'd the art To frame angelic strains, and canzons sing; Too high and deep for any shallow heart. Ah, blessed soul! in those celestial rays, Which gave thee light, these lower works to blaze, Thou sit'st imparadis'd, and chant'st eternal lays. XIV. Thrice happy wits! which in the springing May, * Ovid. + Saunazar. |