Philoxipes and Policrite. An Essay to an Heroick Poem. Canto I

In Thetis lap, and by her Arms embrac't,
Betwixt the Syrian, and Cilician Coasts;
The Poets Cyprus fortunately plac't,
Like Nature's Casket, all her Treasure boasts:
An Isle, that once for her renowned Loves;
Stood consecrate to Venus, and her Doves.

From whose fair Womb, once sprung as fair a Seed
To shame the brood of the corrupted World,
The graceful Sexes of her happy Breed,
In one another chast Embraces curl'd:
Nor other difference knew, than did arise
From em'lous Vertue, for the Vertues prize.

And these were Strifes, where Envy had no place;
She was not known in such a vertuous War;
Nor had Ambition, with her Gyant Race,
In such Contentions a malignant share:
Love was the cause, and Vertue was the claim,
That could their honest, gentle Hearts enflame.

But none, amongst that never failing Race,
Could match Philoxipes, that noble Youth,
In Strength, and Beauty, Fortitude, and Grace
In gentle Manners, and unblemisht Truth
In all the Vertues, and the Arts that shou'd
Embellish Manhood; or ennoble Blood.

A Prince descended from the Royal Lines
Of Greece, and Troy united in one Bed,
Where merit, and reward did once combine
The Seeds of Aeacus, and Leomed,
And in a brave Succession did agree
Bold Felamon, and fair Hesione.

From this illustrious Pair fam'd Teucer sprung,
Who, when return'd from Ilium's fun'ral Fire,
Without due Vengeance for his Brother's Wrong;
Was banisht home by his griev'd Father's Ire:
And into Cyprus fortunately came
To build a City to his Country's Name.

Great Salamis, whose polisht Turrets stood
For many Ages in the course of Time,
T'orelook the surface of the swelling Flood,
The strength and glory of that fruitful Clime,
Was His great Work, from whose brave Issue, since,
The World receiv'd this worthy, matchless Prince.

Worthy his Ancestors, and that great Name,
His own true Merits, with the publick Voice,
Had won throughout the Isle, as his just claim,
Above whatever past a gen'ral Choice:
A Man so perfect, none could disapprove,
Save that he could not; or he did not love.

Books were his Business, his Diversion Arms,
His Practice, Honor, his Atchievements Fame,
He had no time to love; nor could the Charms,
If any Cyprian Nymph his Blood enflame:
He thought the fairest print of Womankind
Too small a Volume to enrich his Mind.

He lov'd the tawny Lyon's dang'rous Chace,
The spotted Leopard; or the tusked Boar;
Their bloody Steps would the young Hunter trace,
And having lodg'd them, their tough Entrails gore:
Love was too soft to feed his gen'rous Fire,
And Maids too weak to conquer his Desire.

In all his intervals of happy Truce,
Knowledge, and Arts which his high Mind endow'd,
Where still his Objects, and what they produce
Was the brave Issue of his solitude:
He shun'd dissembling Courts, and thought less Praise,
Adhear'd to Diadems, than Wreaths of Baies.

Although betwixt him, and the youthful King,
Who, at this time, the Paphian Scepter sway'd;
A likeness in their Manners, and their Spring
Had such a true, and lasting Friendship made,
That, without him, the King did still esteem
His Court a Cottage, and her Glories dim.

One was their Country, one the happy Earth,
That (to its Glory) these young Heroes bred;
One year produc't eithers auspicious Birth,
One space matur'd them, and one councel led:
All things in fine, wherein their Vertues shone,
Youth, Beauty, Strength, Studies, and Arms
were one.

This, so establish't Friendship, was the cause,
That when this modest Prince would fain retire,
From the fond World's importunate applause
Oft crost the Workings of his own Desire;
And made him, with a Fav'rites love, and skill,
Devote his Pleasures to his Master's Will.

But once his Presence, and Assistance stood
In ballance with this hopeful Monarch's Bliss,
Love's golden Shaft had fir'd his youthful Blood;
Nor any Ear must hear his Sighs but his;
Artiphala his Heart had overthrown,
Maugre his Sword, his Sceptre, and his Crown.

From her bright Eyes the wounding Light'ning flew,
Through the resistance of his Manly Breast,
By none, but his Philoxipes that knew
Each motion of his Soul to be exprest:
He must his Secrets keep, and Courtships bear,
Conceal them from the World, but tell them her.

This held him most to shine in the Court's Sphere,
And practise Passion in another's Name,
To dally with those Arms that levell'd were
His high, and yet victorious Heart t'enflame:
He sight, and wept, expressing all the Woe
Despairing Lovers in their Frenzy shew.

And, with so good Success, that in some space
The magick of his Eloquence, and Art,
Had wrought the King into this Princess Grace,
And laid the passage open to her Heart:
Such Royal Suiters could not be deny'd,
The whole World's Wonder, and one Asia's pride

The King thus fixt a Monarch in his Love,
And in his Mistriss's fair surrender crown'd,
Could sometimes now permit his Friends remove,
As having other Conversation found.
And now resign him to the Peace he sought
To practise what the wise Athenian taught.

Solon, that Oracle of famous Greece,
Could in the course of his experience find,
None to bequeath his knowledge to but this,
This glorious Youth blest with so rich a Mind,
So brave a Soul, and such a shining Spirit .
As Vertue might, by lawful claim, inherit.

It was his Precept, that did first distil
Vertue into this hopeful young Man's Breast;
That gave him Reason to conduct his Will,
That first his Soul in sacred Knowledg'd drest;
And taught him, that a wise Man, when alone,
Is to himself the best Companion.

He taught him first into himself retire,
Shunning the greatness, and those gaudy Beams,
That often scorch their Plumes who high aspire,
And wear the splendor of the World's extreams,
To drink that Nector, and to tast that Food,
That to their Greatness, make Men truly Good.

And his unerring Eye had aptly chose
A place so suited to his Mind, and Birth,
Or the sweet Scene of his belov'd Repose:
[…]s all the various Beauties of the Earth,
Contracted in one plot, could nere outvie
To nourish Fancy; or delight the Eye.

From the far fam'd Olympus haughty Crown,
Which, with curl'd Cypress, Periwigs his Brow
The chrystal Lycus tumbles headlong down,
And thence unto a fruitful Valley flows;
Twining with am'rous Crooks her verdant
Was't that smiles to see her Borders so embrac't.

Upon whose flowry Banks a stately Pile,
Built from the marble Quarry shining stood:
Like the proud Queen of that Elizean Isle,
Viewing her front in the transparent Flood:
Which, with a murm'ring Sorrow, kis'd her base,
As loth to leave so beautifull a place.

Lovely indeed; if tall, and shady Groves,
Enamel'd Meads, and little purling Springs,
Which from the Grots, the Temples of true Loves,
Creep out to trick the Earth in wanton rings:
Can give the name of Lovely to that place,
Where Nature stands clad in her chiefest Grace.

This noble Structure, in her Sight thus blest,
Was round adorn'd with many a curious piece;
By ev'ry cunning Master's hand exprest,
Of famous Italy; or Antick Greece:
As Art, and Nature both together strove,
Which should attract, and which should fix his
love.

There whilst the Statue, and the Picture vie
Their shape, and colour, their design, and life;
They Value took from his judicious Eye,
That could determin best the curious strife:
For naught, that should a Prince's Vertues fill,
Escap't his knowledge, or amus'd his skill.

But in that brave Collection there was one,
That seem'd to lend her light unto the rest;
Wherein the mastry of the Pencil shone
Above, whatever Painter's Art exprest;
A Woman of so exquisite a Frame;
As made all Life deform'd, and Nature lame.

A Piece so wrought, as might to Ages stand
The work and likeness of some Deity;
To mock the labours of a humane hand:
So round, so soft, so airy, and so free,
That it had been no less, than to prophane.
To dedicate that Face t'a mortal Name.

For Venus therefore Goddess of that Isle,
The cunning Artist nam'd this brave Design,
The Critick Eyes of Wond'rers to beguile;
As if, inspired, had drawn a Shape divine:
Venus Vrania, Parent of their bliss,
Could be exprest in nothing more than this.

And such a power had the lovely Shade,
Over this Prince's yet unconquer'd Mind;
That his indiff'rent Eye full oft it stay'd,
And by degrees his noble Heart enclin'd
To say, that could this Frame a Woman be;
She were his Mistriss, and no Fair but she.