Canto the Fourth

Whilst we awhile the pensive lady leave
Here a close mourner for her rigid fate,
Let's from the dark records of time receive
The manner how Argalia waved the hate.

Of his malignant stars; which, when they seem
To threaten most, through that dark cloud did lead
Him to a knowledge of such dear esteem, —
He his high birth did there distinctly read.

Freed from the noise o' the busy world, within
A deep dark vale, whose silent shade had been
Religion's veil, when blasted by the beams
Of persecution, far from the extremes
Of solitude or sweaty labor, were
Some few blest men, whose choice made heaven their care,
Sequestered from the throngs of men to find
Those better joys, calms of a peaceful mind.
Yet though on this pacific sea, their main
Design was heaven, that voyage did not restrain
Knowledge of human arts, which as they past
They safely viewed, though there no anchor cast;
Their better tempered judgments counting that
But hoodwinked zeal, which blindly catches at
The great Creator's sacred will, without
Knowing those works that will was spent about;
Which being the climax to true judgment, we
Behold stooped down to visibility
In lowliest creatures, nature's stock being nought
But God in 's image to our senses brought.
In the fair evening of that fatal day,
By whose meridian light love did betray
Engaged Argalia near to death, was one
Of these, heaven's happy pensioners, alone,
Walking amongst the gloomy groves, to view
What sovereign virtues there in secret grew,
Confined to humble plants; whose signatures
Whilst by observing, he his art secures
From vain experiments. Argalia's page,
Crossing a neighbouring path, did disengage
His serious eye from nature's busy task,
To see the wandering boy, who was to ask
The way; for more his youth's unprompted fear
Expects not there, to the blest man drawn near.
But when, with such a weeping innocence
As saints confess those sins which the expense
Of tears exacted, he had sadly told
What harsh fate in restrictive wounds laid hold
Of 's worthy master, pity, prompted by
Religious love, helps the poor boy to dry
His tears with hopes of comfort; whilst he goes
To see what sad catastrophe did close
Those bloody scenes, which the unequal fight
Foretold, before fear prompted him to flight.
Not far they'd passed ere they the place had found
Where, groveling in a stream of blood, the ground
His purple bed, the wearied prince they see
Struggling with death: from whose dark monarchy
Pale troops assail his cheeks, whilst his dim eyes,
Like a spent lamp, which, ere its weak flame dies,
In giddy blazes glares, as if his soul
Were at those casements flying out, did roll,
Swifter than thought, their blood-shot orbs; his hands
Did with death's agues tremble; cold dew stands
Upon his clammy lips; the springs of blood,
Having breathed forth the spirits, clotted stood
On that majestic brow, whose dreadful frown
Had to death's sceptre laid its terror down.
The holy man, upon the brink o' the grave
Finding such forms of worth, attempts to save
His life from dropping in, by all his best
Reserves of art; selecting from the rest
Of his choice store, an herb whose sovereign power
No flux of blood, though falling in a shower
Of death, could force; which gently bruised, and to
His wound applied, taught nature to renew
Her late neglected functions, and through short
Recruits of breath, made able to support
His blood-enfeebled body, till they reach
The monastry, where nobler art did teach
Their simple medicines to submit to those
Which skill from their mixed virtues did compose.
Life, which the unexpected gift of fate
Rather than art appeared, in this debate
Of death prevailing, in short time had gained
So much of strength, that weakness now remained
The only slothful remora that in
His bed detained him. Where, being often seen
By those whom art alike had qualified
For his relief, as one of them applied
His morning medicines to a spacious wound
Fixed on his breast, he that rare jewel found
Which, in his undiscerning infancy
There hung by 's father, fortune had kept free
From all her various accidents, to show
How much his birth did to her favor owe.
Shook with such silent joy as he had been
In calm devotion by an angel seen,
The good old man, his wonder rarified
Into amazement, stands: he had descried
What, if no force had robbed him of it since
'Twas first bestowed, none but his true born prince
Could wear, since art, wise nature's fruitful ape,
Ne'er but in that had birth which bore that shape.
Assured by which, with unstirred confidence
He asks Argalia — Whe'er he knew from whence,
When nature first did so much wealth impart
To earth, that jewel took those forms of art?
But being answered — That his infancy,
When first it was conferred on him, might be
The excuse of's ignorance; that voice alone
Confirms his aged friend: who, having known
As much of fortune, as in fate's dark shade
His understanding legible had made,
From weak Argalia, to requite him leads
Knowledge where he his life's first copy reads
Dressed in this language: . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . " 'Twas, unhappy prince!
(For such this story must salute you, since
Told to confirm 't a truth) my destiny
When youth and strength rendered me fit to be
My dearest country's servant, placed within
Mantinea's glorious court; where, having been
Made capable by sacred orders, I
Attained the height of priestly dignity,
Being unto him, whose awful power did sway
That crown, in dear esteem; but honor's day,
Which gilded then the courtly sphere, sunk down,
I lost my mitre in the fall o' the crown.
Sad is the doleful tale; yet, since that in
Its progress you may find where did begin
Your life's first stage, thus take it. — When the court,
Stifled with throngs of men, whose thick resort
Plenty and peace called thither, being grown
Sickly with ease, viewed, as a thing unknown,
Danger's stern brow, which even in smiling fates
Proves a quotidian unto wiser states;
Whilst pride grew big, and envy bigger, we,
Sleeping i' the bed of soft security,
Were with alarums wakened. — Faction had,
To show neglect's deformities, unclad
That gaudy monster, whose first dress had been
The night-pieced works of their unriper sin;
And those that in contracted fortunes dwelt,
Calmly in favor's shadow, having felt
The glorious burthen of their honor grown
Too large for all that fortune called their own,
Like fishes which the lesser fry devour,
Pride having joined oppression to their power,
Preyed on the subject, till their load outgrew
Their loyalty, and forced even those that knew
Once only to obey, in sullen rage
To mutter threats, whose horror did presage
That blood must in domestic jars be spilt,
To cure their envy, and the people's guilt.
" These seeds of discord, which began to rise
To active growth, by the honorable spies
Of other princes seen, had soon betrayed
Our state's obscure disease, and called, to aid
Ambitious subjects, foreign powers; whose strength,
First but as physic used, was grown at length
Our worst disease, which, whilst we hoped for cure,
Turned our slow hectic to a calenture.
" A Syracusan army, that had been
Against our strength often victorious in
A haughty rebel's quarrel, being by
Success taught how to ravish victory
Without his aid, which only useful proved
When treason first for novelty was loved,
Seizing on all that in 's pretended cause
Had stooped to conquest, what the enfeebled laws
In vain attempted, soon perform, and give
The traitor death from what made treason live:
This done, whilst their victorious ensigns were
Fanned by fame's breath, they their bold standards bear
Near to our last hopes; — an army which,
Like oft tried ore, disasters made more rich
In loyal valour than vast numbers, and
By shaking fixed those roots on which did stand
Their well elected principles; which here,
Opprest with number, only did appear
In bravely dying, when their righteous cause,
Condemned by fate's inevitable laws,
Let its religion — virtue — valour — all
That Heaven calls just, beneath rebellion fall.
" Near to the end of this black day, when none
Was left that durst protect his injured throne;
When loyal valour, having lost the day,
Bleeding within the bed of honor lay;
Thy wounded father, when his acts had shown:
As high a spirit as did ever groan
Beneath misfortune, is enforced to leave
The field's wild fury, and some rest receive
In faithful Enna; where his springs of blood
Were hardly stopped, before a harsher flood
Assails his eyes: — Thy royal mother, then
More blooming than Earth's full-blown beauties when
Warmed in the ides of May, her fruitful womb
Pregnant with thee, to an untimely tomb,
Her fainting spirits, in that horrid fright
Losing the paths of life, from time, from light,
And grief, steal down: yet ere she had discharged
Her debts to death, protecting Heaven enlarged
Thy narrow lodging, and that life, which she
Lost in thy fatal birth, bestowed on thee —
On thee, in whom those joys, thy father prized
More than loved empire, are epitomized.
" And now, as if the arms of adverse fate
Had all conspired our ills to aggravate
Above the strength of patience, we are by
Victorious foes, before our fear could fly
To a remoter refuge, closed within
Unhappy Enna; which, before they win,
Though stormed with fierce assaults, the restless sun
His annual progress through the heavens had run;
But then, tired with disasters which attend
A slow-paced siege, unable to defend
Their numbers from resistless famine, they
With an unwilling loyalty obey
The next harsh summons, and so prostrate lie
T' the rage or mercy of their enemy.
But ere the city's fortune was unto
This last black stage arrived, safely withdrew
T' the castle's strength thy father was, where he,
Though far from safety, finds the time to be
Informed by sober counsel how to steer
Through this black storm; love, loyalty, and fear,
Had often varied judgments, but at last
Into this form their full resolves were cast. —
" To cool hot action, and to bathe in rest
More peaceful places, darkness dispossest
The day's sovereignty; to usher whom
Into her sable throne, a cloud's full womb,
Congealed by frigid air, as if that then
The elements had warred as well as men,
In a white veil came hovering down — to hide
The coral pavements; but forbid b' the pride
O' the conqueror's triumphs, and expelled from thence
As that which too much emblemed innocence:
Since that the city no safe harbour yields,
It takes its lodging in the neighbouring fields;
Which, mantled in those spotless robes, invite
The prince through them to take his secret flight.
" In sad distress leaving his nobles to
Swallow such harsh conditions as the view
Of danger candied o'er, from treacherous eyes,
Obscured in a plebeian's poor disguise,
His glorious train shrunk to desertless I —
The sad companion of his misery;
He, now departing, thee, his infant son,
Heir to his crown and cares, ordained to run
This dangerous hazard of thy life before
Time taught thee how thy fortune to deplore.
When venturing on this precipice of fate,
We slowly sallied forth, 'twas cold and late;
The drowsy guard asleep, the centries hid
Close in their huts did shivering stand, and chid
The whistling winds with chattering teeth. When now
A leave as solemn as haste would allow,
Of all our friends, our mourning friends, being took,
We, like the earth, veiled all in white, forsook
Our sallyport; whilst slowly marching o'er
The new-fallen snow, thee in his arms he bore.
Whilst this imposture made the scared guards, when
They saw us move — then make a stand again,
Either to think that dallying winds had played
With flakes of snow, or that their sight betrayed
Their fancy into errors; we were past
The reach of danger, and in triumph cast
Off, with our fears, what had us safety lent,
When strength refused to save the innocent.
The eager lover hugs himself not in
Such roseate beds of joy, when what hath been
His sickly wishes is possessed, as we,
Through watchful foes arrived to liberty,
Embrace the welcome blessing. First we steer
Our course towards Syracuse, whose confines near
The mountain stood, upon whose cloudy brow
Poor Enna did beneath her ruins bow.
" The stars, clothed in the pride of light, had sent
Their sharp beams from the spangled firmament,
To silver o'er the earth, which being embost
With hills, seemed now enamelled o'er with frost;
The keen winds whistle in the justling trees,
And clothed their naked limbs in hoary frieze;
When, having paced some miles of crusted earth,
Whose labor warmed our blood, before the birth
O' the sluggish morning from his bed had drawn
The early villager, the sober dawn
Lending our eyes the slow salutes of light,
We are encountered with the welcome sight
Of some poor scattered cottages, that stood
I' the dark shadow of a spacious wood
That fringed an humble valley. Towards those,
Whilst the still morn knew nought to discompose
Her sleepy infancy, we went; and now,
Being come so near, we might discover how
The unstirred smoke streamed from the cottage tops;
A glimmering light from a low window stops
Our further course: we're come to a low shed,
Whose happy owner, ne'er disquieted
With those domestic troubles that attend
On larger roofs, here in content did spend
Fortune's scant gifts; at his unhaunted gate
Hearing us knock, he stands not to debate
With wealthy misers' slow suspicion, but
Swift, as if 'twere a sin to keep it shut,
Removes that slender guard. But when he there
Unusual strangers saw, with such a care
As only spoke a conscious shame to be
Surprised, whilst unprovided poverty
Straitened desire, he starts; yet entertains
Us so, that showed by an industrious pains
He strove to welcome more. Here being by
Their goodness and our own necessity
Tempted awhile to rest, we safely lay
Far from pursuing ills; yet since the way
To danger by suspicion lies, we still
Fear being betrayed by those that meant no ill,
Since oft their busy whispers, though they spring
From love and wonder, slow discoveries bring.
" Being now removing, since thy tender age
Threatened to make the grave its second stage,
If thence conveyed by us, whose fondest love
Could to thy wants but fruitless pity prove:
T' enlarge thy commons though encrease our fears,
To those indulgent rurals, who for tears
Had springs of milk to feed thee, thou remain'st
An infant tenant; for thy own name gain'st
What since thou hast been known by; which when we
Contracted had to the stenography,
Some gold, the last of all our wealth, we leave
To make their burden light; which they receive
With thankful joy, amazed to see those bright
Angels display their strange unwonted light
In poverty's cold region, where they had
Been pined for want, if not by labor clad.
" When age should make thee capable to tell
Thy wonder how thy infancy had fell
From honor's pyramids, a jewel, which
Did once the splendor of his crown enrich,
About thy neck he hangs; then breathing on
Thy tender lips a parting kiss, we 're gone —
Gone from our last delight, to find some place
Dark as our clouded stars, there to embrace
Unenvied poverty, in the cold bed
Of sad despair; till on his reverend head,
Once centre to a crown, grief makes him wear
A silver frost, by frequent storms of care
Forced on that royal mount, whose verdure fades,
Ere time — his youth's antagonist, invades.
" Not far, through dark and unknown paths we had
Wandered within those forests, which, unclad
By big winds of their summer's beauteous dress,
Naked and trembling stood, ere fair success,
Smiling upon our miseries, did bring
Us to a crystal stream, from whose cold spring,
With busy and laborious care, we saw
A feeble hermit stooping down to draw
An earthen pot, whose empty want supplied
With liquid treasure, soon had satisfied
His thirsty hopes: who now returning by
A narrow path, which did directing lie
Through the unfrequented desert, with the haste
Of doubtful travellers in lands laid waste
By conquering foes, we follow, till drawn near
To him whom innocence secured from fear,
Disburthening of his staff, he sits to rest
What was with age and labor both opprest.
" Our first salutes when we for blessings had
Exchanged with him, being set, we there unclad
All our deformed misfortunes, and, unless
A kingdom's loss, developed our distress.
Which heard with pity, that he safely might
Be the directing Pharos, by whose light
We might be safely guided from the rocks
Of the tempestuous world, his tongue unlocks
A cabinet of holy counsel; which
More than our vanished honor did enrich
Our souls (for whose eternal good was meant
This cordial) with the world's best wealth, content,
Content, which flies the busy throne, to dwell
With hungry hermits in the noiseless cell.
" More safe than age from the hot sins of youth,
Peaceful as faith, free as untroubled truth,
Being by him directed hither, we
Long lived within this narrow monastry;
Whose orders, being too strict for those that ne'er
Had lost delight i' the prosecuting care
Of unsuccessful action, suited best
With us, whose griefs compared taught the distrest
To slight their own, as guests that did intrude
On reason in the want of fortitude,
That brave supporter, which such comfort brings,
That none can know but persecuted kings.
" The purple-robe, his birth's unquestioned right,
For the coarse habit of a carmelite
Being now exchanged; and we retired from both
Our fears and hopes, like private lovers loath,
When solved from the observant spy, to be
Disturbed by friends, from want or greatness free,
Secure and calm, we spent those happy days,
In nought ambitious, but of what might raise
Our thoughts towards Heaven, with whom each hour acquaints,
In prayer more frequent than afflicted saints,
Our happy souls; which here so long had been
Refining, till that grand reward of sin,
Death, did by Age, his common harbinger —
Proclaim's approach, and warned us to defer
For the earth's trivial business nought that might
Concern eternity, least life and light,
Forsaking our dark mansions, leave us to
Darkness and death, unfurnished of a clew
Which might conduct, when time shall cease to be,
Through the meanders of eternity.
" Thy pious father, ere the thefts of age,
Decaying strength, should his stiff limbs engage
In an uneasy rest, to level all
Accounts with heaven, doth to remembrance call
A vow, which though in hot affliction made,
Whilst passion's short ephemeras did invade
His troubled soul, doth now, when the disease
Time had expunged, from solitary ease
Call him again to an unwilling view
Of the active world, in a long journey to
Forlorn Enna; unto whose temple he
Had vowed, if fortune lent him liberty,
Till tired with the extremes of weary age,
The cheap devotion of a pilgrimage.