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The Latin speeches ended, the English thus began:—
HAIL, Native Language, that by sinews weak, | |
| Didst move my first-endeavouring tongue to speak, | |
| And madest imperfect words, with childish trips, | |
| Half unpronounced, slide through my infant lips, | |
| Driving dumb Silence from the portal door, | 5 |
| Where he had mutely sat two years before: | |
| Here I salute thee, and thy pardon ask, | |
| That now I use thee in my latter task: | |
| Small loss it is that thence can come unto thee, | |
| I know my tongue but little grace can do thee. | 10 |
| Thou need’st not be ambitious to be first, | |
| Believe me, I have thither packed the worst: | |
| And, if it happen as I did forecast, | |
| The daintiest dishes shall be served up last. | |
| I pray thee then deny me not thy aid, | 15 |
| For this same small neglect that I have made; | |
| But haste thee straight to do me once a pleasure, | |
| and from thy wardrobe bring thy chieftest treasure; | |
| Not those new-fangled toys, and trimming slight | |
| Which takes our late fantastics with delight; | 20 |
| But cull those richest robes and gayest attire, | |
| Which deepest spirits and choicest wits desire. | |
| I have some naked thoughts that rove about, | |
| And loudly knock to have their passage out, | |
| And, weary of their place, do only stay | 25 |
| Till thou hast decked them in thy best array; | |
| That so they may, without suspect or fears, | |
| Fly swiftly to this fair Assembly’s ears. | |
| Yet I had rather, if I were to choose, | |
| Thy service in some graver subject use, | 30 |
| Such as may make thee search thy coffers round, | |
| Before thou clothe my fancy in fit sound: | |
| Such where the deep transported mind may soar | |
| Above the wheeling poles, and at Heaven’s door | |
| Look in, and see each blissful Deity | 35 |
| How he before the thunderous throne doth lie, | |
| Listening to what unshorn Apollo sings | |
| To the touch of golden wires, while Hebe brings | |
| Immortal nectar to her kingly Sire; | |
| Then, passing through the spheres of watchful fire, | 40 |
| And misty regions of wide air next under, | |
| And hills of snow and lofts of piled thunder, | |
| May tell at length how green-eyed Neptune raves, | |
| In heaven’s defiance mustering all his waves; | |
| Then sing of secret things that came to pass | 45 |
| When beldam Nature in her cradle was; | |
| And last of Kings and Queens and Heroes old, | |
| Such as the wise Demodocus once told | |
| In solemn songs at King Alcinoüs’ feast, | |
| While sad Ulysses’ soul and all the rest | 50 |
| Are held, with his melodious harmony, | |
| In willing chains and sweet captivity. | |
| But fie, my wandering Muse, how thou dost stray! | |
| Expectance calls thee now another way. | |
| Thou know’st it must be now thy only bent | 55 |
| To keep in compass of thy Predicament. | |
| Then quick about thy purposed business come, | |
| That to the next I may resign my room. | |
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Then ENS is represented as Father of the Predicaments, his ten Sons; whereof the eldest stood for SUBSTANCE with his Canons; which ENS, thus speaking, explains:—
Good luck befriend thee, son; for at thy birth | |
| The faery Ladies danced upon the hearth. | 60 |
| The drowsy Nurse hath sworn she did them spy | |
| Come tripping to the room where thou didst lie, | |
| And, sweetly singing round about thy bed, | |
| Strew all their blessings on thy sleeping head. | |
| She heard them give thee this, that thou shouldst still | 65 |
| From eyes of mortals walk invisible. | |
| Yet there is something that doth force my fear; | |
| For once it was my dismal hap to hear | |
| A Sibyl old, bow-bent with crooked age, | |
| That far events full wisely could presage, | 70 |
| And, in Time’s long and dark prospective-glass, | |
| Foresaw that future days should bring to pass. | |
| “Your Son,” said she, “(nor can you it prevent,) | |
| Shall subject be to many an Accident. | |
| O’er all his Brethren he shall reign as King; | 75 |
| Yet every one shall make him underling, | |
| And those that cannot live from him asunder | |
| Ungratefully shall strive to keep him under. | |
| In worth and excellence he shall outgo them; | |
| Yet, being above them, he shall be below them. | 80 |
| From others he shall stand in need of nothing, | |
| Yet on his Brothers shall depend for clothing. | |
| To find a foe it shall not be his hap, | |
| And peace shall lull him in her flowery lap; | |
| Yet shall he live in strife, and at his door | 85 |
| Devouring war shall never cease to roar; | |
| Yea, it shall be his natural property | |
| To harbour those that are at enmity.” | |
| What power, what force, what mighty spell, if not | |
| Your learned hands, can loose this Gordian knot? | 90 |
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The next, QUANTITY and QUALITY, spake in prose: then RELATION was called by his name.
Rivers, arise: whether thou be the son | |
| Of utmost Tweed, or Ouse, or gulfy Dun, | |
| Or Trent, who, like some earth-born Giant, spreads | |
| His thirty arms along the indented meads, | |
| Or sullen Mole, that runneth underneath, | 95 |
| Or Sevren swift, guilty of maiden’s death, | |
| Or rocky Avon, or of sedgy Lea, | |
| Or coaly Tyne, or ancient hallowed Dee, | |
| Or Humber loud, that keeps the Scythian’s name, | |
Or Medway smooth, or royal-towered Thame.
The rest was prose. | 100 |
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