BIRON

What place is this? what air? what rhegion? In which a man may hear the harmony Of all things moving? Hymen marries here, Their ends and uses and makes me his Temple. Hath any man been blessed, and yet lived? The blood turns in my veins, I stand on change, And shall dissolve in changing; 'tis so full Of pleasure not to be containde in flesh: To fear a violent Good, abuseth Goodness, 'Tis Immortality to die aspiring, As if a man were taken quick to heaven; What will not hold Perfection, let it burst; What force hath any Cannan, not being charged, Or being not discharge? To have stuff and form, And to lie idle, fearful, and unused, Nor form, nor stuff shows; happy Semel That died compressed with Glory: Happiness Denies comparison, of less, or more, And not at most, is nothing: Like the shaft Shot at the Sun, by angry Hercules, And into shivers by the thunder broken Will I be if I burst: And in my heart This shall be written: yet it high and right. Here too? they follow all my steps with h Music, As if my feet were numerous, and trodden sounds Out of the Centre, with Apollo's virtue, That out of every thing his each-part touched, Struck musical accents: wheresoever I go, They hide the earth from me with coverings rich, To make me think that I am here in heaven. Come they? Here may we safely breathe? Then, I well perceive To what th'intention of his highness tends; For whose, and others here, most worthy Lords, I will become (with all my worth) their servant, In any office, but disloyalty; But that hath ever showed so fowl a monster To all my Ancestors, and my former life, That now to entertain it; I must wholly Give up my habit, in his contrary, And strive to grow out of privation. Oh it's a dangerous, and a dreadful thing To steal prey from a Lion; or to hide A head distrustful, in his opened jaws; To trust our blood in others veins; and hang Betwixt heaven and earth, in vapours of their breathes: To leave a sure pace on continuate earth, And force a gate in jumps, from tower to tower, As they do that aspire, from height to height; The bounds of loyalty are made of glass, Soon broke, but can in no date be repaired; And as the Duke D'Aumall, (now here in Court) Flying his country; had his Statue tome Piecemeal with horses; all his goods confiscate, His Arms of honour, kicked about the streets, His goodly house at Annet raced to earth. And (for a strange reproach of his foul treason) His trees about it, cut off by their wastes; So, when men fly the natural climb of truth, And turn themselves lose, out of all the bounds Of Justice, and the straightway to their ends; Forsaking all the sure force in themselves To seek, without them, that which is not theirs, The forms of all their comforts are distracted; The riches of their freedoms forfeited; Their human noblesse shamed; the Mansions Of their cold spirits, eaten down with Cares; And all their ornaments, of wit, and valour, Learning, and judgement, cut from all their fruits. Your highness honours, and high bounty shown me, Have won from me, my voluntary pour; And I must now move by your eminent will; To what particular objects; if I know By this men intercession, he shall bring: My uttermost answer, and perform betwixt us, Reciprocal and full intelligence. Thank your Lordship. Here is the man; my honoured friend, Laffin ? Alone, and heavy countinanc't? on what terms Stood the insultation of the King upon you? Since I would know the truth. I'll judge betwixt you, And (as I may) make even the excess of either. You much wrong me, To think me and intelligencing Lord. How strange is this? the shame of his disgrace Hath made him lunatic. He has a will to me, and dares not show it, His state decayed, and he disgraced; distracts him. Stay injured man, and know I am your friend, Far from these base, and mercenary reaches, I am I swear to you. 'Tis more then strange, To see you stand thus at the rapiers point With one so kind and sure a friend as I. How fic a tort were this to handsel fortune? And I will win it though I lose my self, Though he prove harder then Egyptian Marble, I'll make him malliable, as the Ophyr gold; I am put off from this dull shore of East, Into industrious, and high-going Seas; Where, Like Pelides in Scamanders flood, Up to the ears in surges, I will fight, And pluck French Ilion underneath the waves; If to be highest still, be to be best, All works to that end are the worthiest: Truth is a golden Ball, cast in our way, To make us stripped by falsehood: And as Spain When the hight scuffles of Barbarian arms, Smothered the life of Done Sebastian, To guild the leaden rumor of his death Gave for a slaughtered body (held for his) A hundred thousand crowns; caused all the state Of superstitious Portugal to mourn And celebrate his solemn funerals; The Moors to conquest, thankful feasts prefer, And all made with the carcase of a Switzer : So in the Giant Like, and politic wars Of barbarous greatness, raging still in peace, Shows to aspire joust objects; are laid on With cost, with labour, and with form enough, Which only makes our best acts brook the light, And their ends had, we think we have their right, So wurst works are made good, with good success, And so for Kings, pay subjects carcases. Exit. How Strange is this? Both herd and wondered, that your wit and spirit. And profit in experience of the slaveries, Imposed on us; in those mere politic terms, Of love, fame, loyalty, can be carried up, To such a height of ignorant conscience; Of cowerdise, and dissolution, In all the freeborn powers of royal man You that have made way through all the guards, Of Ielouse State; and seen on both your sides, The pikes points charging heaven to let you pass, Will you, (in flying with a Scrupulous wing, Above those pikes to heavenward) fallen on them? This is Like men, that (spirrited with wine,) Pass dangerous places safe; and die for fear, With only thought of them, being simply sober; We must (in passing to our wished ends, Through things called good and bade) be Like the air, That evenly interposed betwixt the seas, And the opposed Element of fire; At either touches, but partakes with neither; Is neither hight, nor cold, but with a sleight. And harmless temper mixed of both the exstreames; There is no truth of any good To be descernd on earth: and by conversion, Nought therefore simply bade: But as the stuff, Prepared for Arras pictures, is no Picture, Till it be formed, and man hath cast the beams, Of his imaginouse fancy through it, In forming ancient Kings and conquerors, As he conceives they look't, and were attire, Though they were nothing so: so all things here, Have all their price set down, from men's concepts, Which make all terms and actions, good, or bade, And are but pliant, and well-coloured threads, Put into feigned images of truth: To which, to yield, and kneel, as truth pure kings, That pulled us down with clear truth of their Gospel, Were Superstition to be hist to hell. T'is the says, Of reason and of wisdom. We must have these lures when we hawk for friends, And wind about them Like a subtle River, That (seeming only to run on his course) Does search yet, as he runs; and still finds out, The easiest parts of entry on the shore; Gliding so slyly by, as scarce it touched, Yet still eats some thing in it: so must those, That have large fields, and currants to dispose. Come, let us ioyue our streams, we must run far. And have but little time: The duke Savoy, Is shortly to be gone, and I must needs, Make you well known to him, With him and greater persons? He shall both know, and love you: are you mine? All honour to your heighness, I sorrow Sir I could not bring it with me That I might so supply the fruitless compliment, Of only visiting your excellence, With which the king now sends me to entertain you, Which notwithstanding does confer this good, That it hath given me some small time to show, My gratitude for the many secret bounties, I have (by this your Lord Ambassador) Felt from your heighness and in short, to assure you, That all my most deserts are at your service. For defect. Of whatsoever in my self, (my Lord,) I here commend to your most Princely Service This honoured friend of mine; Of all men's else? would he weigh other men's, With my deservings, With reverence? Reverence skornes him: by the spoil, Of all her Merits in me, he shall rue it; Did ever Curtain Gullffe play such a partly? Had Curtius been so used, if he had brook't, That rauenons whirlpool, poured his solid spirits, Through earth dissolved sinews, stopped her veins, And rose with saved Room, upon his back, As I swum pools of fire, and Gullfs of brass, To save my country? thrust this venturous arm, Beneath her ruins; took her on my neck, And set her safe on her appeased shore? And opens the king, a fouler bog then this, In his so rotten bosom, to devour Him that devoured, what else had swallowed him In a detraction, so with spite imbrued, And drown such good in such ingratitude? My spirrit as yet, but stooping to his rest, Shines hotly in him, as the Sun in clouds, Purpled, and made proud with a peaceful Even: But when I thoroughly set to him; his cheeks, Will (Like those clouds) forgo their colour quite, And his whole blaze, smoke into endless night, What had his arms been without my arm, That with his motion, made the whole field move? And this held up, we still had victory. When over charged with number, his few friends, Retired amazed, I set them on assured, And what rude ruin seized on I confirmed; When I left leading, all his army reeled, One fell on other foul, and as the Cyclop That having lost his eye, struck every way, His blows directed to no certain scope; Or as the soul departed from the body, The body wants coherence in his parts, Can not consist, but sever, and dissolve; So I removed once, all his armies shook, Panted, and fainted, and were ever flying, Like wandering pulses sper to through bodies dying, What monstrous humours feed a Princes blood, Being bade to good men, and to bade men good? What, does he take my picture? Your Highness will excuse me; I will give you My likeness put in Statue, not in picture; And by a Statuary of mine own, That can in Brass express the wit of man, And in his form, make all men see his virtues: Others that with much strictness imitate, The something stooping carriage of my neck, The voluble, and mild radiance of mine eyes, Never observe my Masculine aspect, And Lyon-like instinct, it shadoweth: Which Envy cannot say, is flattery: And I will have my Image promised you, Cut in such matter, it shall ever last; Where it shall stand, fixed with eternal roots, And with a most unmoved gravity; For I will have the famous mountain Oros, That looks out of the Duchy where I govern, (Into your highness Dukedom) first made yours, And then with such inimitable art Expressed and handled; chiefly from the place Where most conspicuously, he shows his face, That though it keep the true form of that hill In all his longitudes, and latitudes, His height, his distances, and full proportion, Yet shall it clearly bear my counterfeit, Both in my face and all my lineaments: And every man shall say, this is Byron. Within my left hand, I will hold a City, Which is the City Amiens ; at whose siege I served so memorably: from my right, I'll pour and endless flood, into a Sea Raging beneath me; which shall intimate My ceaseless service, drunk up by the King As the Ocean drinks up rivers, and makes all Bear his proud title; Ivory, Brass and Gold, That thieves may purchase; and be bought and should, Shall not be used about me; lasting worth Shall only set the duke of Byron forth; What wrongs are these, laid on me by the King, To equal others worths in war, with mine; Endure this, and be turned into his Moil To bear his sumptures: honoured friend be true, And we will turn these torrents, hence. The King. Exit Laffi. Be what he will, men in themselves entire, March safe with naked feet on coals of fire: I built not outward, nor depend on props, Nor choose my consort by the common ear: Nor by the Moonshine, in the grace of Kings: So rare are true deservers, loved or known, That men loved vulgarly, are ever none: Nor men graced servilely, for being spots In Princes trains, though born even with their crowns; The Stallion pour, hath such a beesome tail, That it sweeps all from justice, and such filth He bears out in it, that men mere exempt, Are merely clearest men will shortly buy Friends from the prison, or the pillory, Rather then honours markets. I fear none, But foul Ingratitude, and Detraction, In all the brood of villainy. Enjoy your will a while, I may have mine. Wherefore (before I partly to this ambassage) I'll be resolved by a Magician That dwells hereby, to whom isle go disguised, And show him my births figure, set before: By one of his profession, of the which I'll crave his judgement, feigning I am sent From some great personage, whose nativity, He wishes should be censured by his skill. But on go my plots, be it good or ill. Exit. This hour by all rules of Astrology, Is dangerous to my person, if not deadly. How hapless is our knowledge to foretell And not be able to prevent a mischief, Oh the strange difference betwixt us and the stars: They work with inclinations strong and fatal And nothing know; and we know all there working And nought can do, or nothing can prevent? Rude ignorance is beastly, knowledge wretched: The heavenly powers envy what they Enjoin : We are commanded imitate there nature's, In making all our ends eternity: And in that imitation we are plagued, And worse then they esteemed, that have no souls, But in their nostrils, and Like beasts expire; As they do that are ignorant of arts, By drowning there eternal parts in sense, And sensual affectations: while we live Our good parts take away, the more they give. The forts that favorites hold in Princes hearts, In common subjects loves; and their own strengths Are not so sure, and unexpugnable, But that the more they are presumed upon, The more they fail; daily and hourly proof, Tells us prosperity is at highest degree The fount and handle of calamity: Like dust before a whirlwind those men fly, That prostrate on the grounds of fortune lie: And being great (Like trees that broadest sproyte) Their own top-heauy state grubs up their root. These apprehensions startle all my powers, And arm them with suspicion gainst themselves, In my late projects; I have cast my self Into the arms of others; and will see It they will let me fallen; or toss me up Into th'affected compass of a throne, God save you sir. I would entreat you, for some crowns I bring, To give your judgement of this figure cast. To know by his nativity there seen; What sort of end the person shall endure, Who sent me to you, and whose birth it is. I will not tell you that: But tell me on what end he shall arrive. A Caput Algol ? What's that I pray? You have no cause to fear, and therefore speak. Ignorance is and idle salve for ill, And therefore do not urge me to enforce, What I would freely know: for by the skill Shown in thy aged haytes, isle lay thy brain Here scattered at my feet, and seek in that, What safely thou must utter with thy tongue, If thou deny it. Was ever man yet punished for expressing What he was charged? be free, and speak the wurst. Cursed be thy throat & soul, Raven, Shriech-owle, hag. Hold on, I will, Vault, and contractor of all horrid sounds, Trumpet of all the Misery's in hell, Of my confusions; of the shameful end Of all my services; witch, fiend, accursed For ever be the poison on thy tongue, And let the black fume of thy venomed breath, Infect the air, shrink heaven, put out the stars, And rain so fell and blue a plague on earth, That all the world may falter with my fallen. Out prodigy, Remedy of pity, mine of flint, Whence with my nails and feet, isle dig enough, Horror, and savage cruelty, to built Temples to Massacre: dam of devils take thee, Hadst thou no better end to crown my parts. The Bulls of Colchos, nor his triple neck, That howls out Earthquakes; the most mortal vapours, That ever stifled and struck dead the fowls, That flew at never such a sightly pitch, Could not have burned my blood so. Oh that thou hadst; Would I had given thee twenty thousand crowns That thou hadst flattered me: there's no joy on earth, Never so rational, so pure, and holy, But is a Jester, Parasite, a Whore, In the most worthy parts, with which they please, A drunkenness of foul, and a disease. Peace dog of Pluto, peace, Thou knewest my end to come, not me here present: Pox of your halting humane knowledges; Oh death! how far off hast thou killed? how soon A man may know too much though never nothing? Spite of the Stars, and all Astrology, I will not lose my head: or I do, A hundred thousand heads shall off before. I am a nobler substance them the Stars, And shall the baser overrule the better? Or are they better, since they are the bigger? I have a will, and faculties of choice, To do, or not to do: and reason why, I do, or not do this; the sta res have none, They know not why they shine, more then this Taper, Nor how they work, nor what: isle change my course, I'll piecemeal pull, the frame of all my thoughts, And cast my will into another mould: And where are all your Caput Algols then? Your Planets all, being underneath the earth, At my nativity: what can they do? Malignant in aspects? in bloody houses? Wild fire consume them; one poor cup of wine, More then I use, that my weak brain will bear, Shall make them drunk and reel out of their spheres, For any certain act they can enforce. Oh that mine arms were wings, that I might fly, And pluck out of their hearts, my destiny! I'll wear those golden Spurs upon my heals, And kick at fate; be free all worthy spirits, And stretch your selves, for greatness and for height: Untruss your slaveries, you have height enough, Beneath this steep heaven to use all your reaches, It's too far off, to let you, or respect you. Give me a spirit that on this life's rough sea, Loves to-have his sails filled with a lusty wind, Even till his Sail-yards tremble; his Masts crack, And his rapt ship run on her side so low That she drinks water, and her keel plows air; There is no danger to a man, that knows What life and death is: there's not any law, Exceeds his knowledge; neither is it lawful That he should stoop to any other law. He goes before them, and commands them all, That to himself is a law rational. Exit. The Circle of this ambassy is closed, For which I long have longed, for mine own ends; To see my faithful, and leave courtly friends, To whom I came (me thought) with such a spirit, As you have seen, a lusty courser show, That hath been long time at his manger tied; High fead, alone, and when (his headstall broken) He runs his prison, Like a trumpet neighs, Cuts air, in high curvets, and shakes his head: (With wanton stopings, betwixt his forelegs) mocking The heavy centre; spreads his flying crest, Like to and Ensign, hedge, and ditches leaping, Till in the fresh meat, at his natural food He sees free fellows, and hath met them free: And now (good friend) I would be feign informed, What our right Princely Lord, the duke of Savoy Hath thought on, to employ my coming home. Deny it me? deny me such a suit? Who will he grant, if he deny it me. Come, he dares not do't. By heaven I wonder at you, I will ask it, As sternly, and secure of all repulse As the ancient Persians did when they implorde, Their idol fire to grant them any boon; With which they would descend into a flood, And threaten there to quench it, if they failed, Of that they asked it: What can he do? You fear too much, be by, when next I see him, And see how I will urge him in this suit, He comes, mark you, that think He will not grant it. I am become a suitor to your highness. I do not much doubt that; my services, I hope have more strength in your good conceit Then to receive repulse, in such requests. That you would bestow on one whom I shall name, The keeping of the Citadel of Bourg, Not grant me this suit? Respect, Revenge, slaughter repay for laughter, Whats' graven in Earth, what awful? what abhorred If my rage be ridiculous? I will make it, The law and rule of all things serious. So long as such as he Are suffered, soothed and wrest all right, to safety So long is mischief gathering massacres, For their cursed kingdoms; which I will prevent, Laughter? I'll fright it from him, far as he, Hath cast irrevocable shame; which ever, Bring found is lost and lost returns never; Should Kings cast of their bounties, with their dangers? He that can warm at fi es, where virtue burns, Hunt pleasure through her torments; nothing feel, Of all his subjects suffer; but (long hid) In wants, and Misery's, and having passed Through all the gravest shapes, of worth and honour, (For all Heroiq e fashions to be learned, By those hard lessons) show and antique vizard, Who would not wish him rather hewed to nothing, Then left so monstrous? slight my services? Drown the dead noises of my sword, in laughter? My blows, as but the passages of shadows, Over the highest and most barren hills, And use me, Like, no man; but as he took me Into a desert, gashed with all my wounds, Sustained for him, and buried me in flies; Forth vengeance then, and open wounds in him Shall let in Spain, and Savoy. While respite, holds revenge, the wrong redoubles, And so the shame of sufferance, it torments me, To think what I endure, at his shrunk hands, That skornes the gift, of one poor fort to me: That have subdued for him; Oh injury, Forts, Cities, Countries, I, and yet my fury. Exieunt. Mirth? it mockery, a contempt; a scandal To my renown for ever: a repulse, As miserably cold, as Stygian water, That from sincere earth issues, and does break The strongest vessels, not to be containde, But in the tough hoof of a patient Ass. Sent me your horses? upon what desert? I entertain no presents, but for merits; Which I am far from at you highness hands; As being of all men to you the most stranger, There is as ample bounty in refusing; As in bestowing, and with this I quit you. What shift? or what evasion can he find, What one patch is there in all policies shop, (That butcher up of Kingdoms) that can mend The brack betwixt us, any way denying. These are wondrous reasons, Is not a man depending on his merits As fit to have the charge of such a key As one that merely hangs upon your humours? But you will grant my suit? Will you deny me then? Then my self? That's a strange sleight in your comparison; Am I become example of such men As have lest power? Such a diminutive? I was comparative in the better sort; And such a King as you, would say I cannot, Do such; or such a thing; were I as great In power as he; even that indefinite he, Expressed me full: This Moon is strangely changed; A plague of brain; what does this touch your brain? You must give me more reason or I swear I Swear you wrong me, And deal not Like a King to jest, and sleight, A man that you should curiously reward; Tell me of your grey beard? it is not grey With care to recompense me, who eased your care. With a distrusted dukedom: Take your dukedom Bestowed on me again; It was not given For any love, but fear, and force of shame; Misery of virtue, Ill is made good, with worse? This reason pours Poison, for Balm, into the wound you made; You make me mad, and rob me of my soul, To take away my tried love, and my Truth; Which of my labors, which of all my wounds, Which overthrow, which Battle won for you, Breeds this suspicion? Can the blood of faith, (Lost in all these to find it proof, and strength) Beget disloya ty? all my rain is fallen, Into the horse-fair; springing pools and mire; And not in thankful grounds, or fields of fruit; Fallen then before us, Oh thou flaming Crystal, That art the uncorrupted Register Of all men's merits: And remonstrate here, The fights, the dangers, the affrights and horrors, Whence I have r cued this unthankful King: And show (commixed with them) the joys, the glories Of his state then: Then his kind thoughts of me: Then my deservings: Now my infamy: But I will be mine own King: I will see, That all your Chronicles be filled with me, That none but I, and my renowned Sire Be said to win the memorable fields Of Arques and Deep : and none b to we of all Kept you from dying there, in and Hospital; None but my self, that won the day at Dreux : A day of holy name, and needs, no night: Nor none but I at Fountain Francois burst, The heart strings of the leaguers; I alone, Took Amiens in these arms and held her fast, In spite of all the Pitchy fires she cast, And clouds of bullets poured upon my breast, Till she showed yours; and took her natural form, Only my self (married to victory) Did people Artois, Dou y, Picardy, Bethune, and Saint Paul , Bapaume, and Courcelles, With her triumphant issue; 'Tis all acknowlegd, and, (though all to late) Here the short madness of my anger ends: If ever I did good I locked it safe In you, impregnable defence of goodness: If ill, I press it with my penitent knees To that unfounded depth, whence nought returns. Since this honour, Would show you loved me to, in trusting me, Without which love, and trust; honour is shame; A very Pageant, and a property: Honour, with all his Adiu cts, I deserve, And you quit my deserts, with your grey beard.