"GONDIBERT.

AN HEROIC POEM."

BY SIR WILLIAM DAVENANT.*

THE SECOND BOOK.

CANTO THE SEVENTH.

THE ARGUMENT.

The duke's wish'd health in doubtfull wounds affur'd,
Who gets new wounds before the old are cur'd:
Nature in Birtha art's weak help deride,
Which frives to mend what it at beft but hides,
Shows nature's courfer works, fo hid, more course,
As fin conceal'd, and unconfefs'd, grows worse.

I.

LET none our Lombard authour rudely blame Who from the story has thus long digreft; But for his righteous pains, may his fair fame For ever travel, whilft his afhes rest.

* Born 1605; dyed 1668.

2.

Ill could he leave Art's shop of Nature's store, 5 Where the the hidden foul would make more

known;

Though common faith seeks fouls, which is no more Than long opinion to religion grown.

3.

A while then let this fage hiftorian stay

With Aftragon, till he new wounds reveals, 10 And fuch (though now the old are worn away) As balm, nor juice of Pyrol, never heals.

4.

To Aftragon heav'n for fucceffion gave

One onely pledge, and Birtha was her name; Whose mother flept, where flowers grew on her

grave,

And the fucceeded her in face, and fame.

5.

Her beauty, princes durft not hope to use,

15

Unless, like poets, for their morning theam; And her minds beauty they would rather chufe, Which did the light in beautie's lanthorn feem.

6.

She ne'er faw courts, yet courts would have un

done,

With untaught looks, and an unpractis'd heart,

Her nets, the most prepar'd could never shun,
For Nature spred them in the scorn of Art.

7.

She never had in bufie cities bin,

25

Ne'r warm'd with hopes, nor ere allay'd with

fears;

Not seeing punishment, could guess no fin,
And fin not seeing, ne'r had use of tears.

8.

But here her father's precepts gave her skill,
Which with inceffant bus'ness fill'd the hours;
In fpring fhe gather'd bloffoms for the ftill,
In autumn berries, and in fummer flow'rs.

9.

And as kind Nature with calm diligence
Her own free virtue filently employs,
Whilft fhe, unheard, does rip'ning growth difpence,
So were her virtues bufie without noise.

10.

Whilft her great mistress, Nature, thus fhe tends,
The bufie houshold waits no lefs on her:

By fecret law each to her beauty bends,
Though all her lowly mind to that prefer.

4.0

11.

Gracious and free, fhe breaks upon

them all

With morning looks; and they, when the does

rife,

Devoutly at her dawn in homage fall,

And droop like flow'rs, when Evening fhuts her

eyes.

12.

45

The footy chymift (who his fight does waste,
Attending leffer fires) fhe paffing by,
Broke his lov'd lymbick, through enamour'd haste,
And let, like common dew, th' elixar flie.

13.

And here the grey philofophers resort,

Who all to her, like crafty courtiers, bow, 50 Hoping for fecrets now in Nature's court, Which onely fhe (her fav'rite maid) can know.

14.

Thefe, as the lords of fcience, fhe refpects,
And with familiar beams their age fhe chears,

Yet all those civil forms seem but neglects,

To what she shews when Aftragon appears,

15.

For as fhe once from him her being took,

55

She hourly takes her law, reads with swift fight His will, even at the op'ning of his look,

And shews, by hafte, obedience her delight. 60

16.

She makes (when fhe at distance to him bows)
His int'reft in her mother's beauty known,
For that's th' orig'nal whence her copy grows,
And near originals copies are not shown.

17.

And he, with dear regard, her gifts does wear 65
Of flow'rs, which the in myftick order ties,
And with the facrifice of many a tear

Salutes her loyal mother in her eyes.

18.

The juft hiftorians Birtha thus exprefs,

And tell how, by her fyres example taught, 70 She ferv'd the wounded duke in life's diftrefs, And his fled fpirits back by cordials brought.

19.

Black melancholy mifts, that fed defpair

Through wounds long rage, with fprinkled vervin cleer'd,

Strew'd leaves of willow to refresh the air,

And with rich fumes his fullen fences cheer'd.

75

20.

He that had ferv'd great Love with rev'rend heart,

In thefe old wounds, worse wounds from him en

dures,