XXI. Francis Quarles. Lines from "The History of Samson." Edward Farr, ed. 1847. Select Poetry, Chiefly Sacred, of the Reign of King James the First

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Edward Farr, ed. Select Poetry of the Reign of King James the First. 1847.

Lines from “The History of Samson”

XXI. Francis Quarles

	The Argument.
	He goes to Timnah: as he went
	He slew a lyon by the way;
	He sues, obtaines the maid’s consent,
	And they appoint the marriage-day.

SECTION VIII.

WHEN 1 the next day had with his morning light

Redeem’d the East from the dark shades of night,

And with his golden rayes had overspred

The neighb’ring mountaines, from his loathed bed

Sick-thoughted Samson rose, whose watchfull eyes

Morpheus that night had with his leaden keyes

Not power to close: his thoughts did so incumber

His restlesse soule, his eyes could never slumber;

Whose softer language by degrees did wake

His father’s sleep-bedeafned eares, and spake;

“Sir, let your early blessings light upon

The tender bosome of your prosprous sonne,

And let the God of Israel repay

Those blessings, double, on your head this day:

The long since banisht shadowes make me bold

To let you know the morning waxes old;

The sun-beames are growne strong, their brighter hiew

Have broke the mists and dride the morning dew;

The sweetness of the season does invite

Your steps to visit Timnah, and acquite

Your last night’s promise.”

With that the Danite and his wife arose,

Scarce yet resolved; at last they did dispose

Their doubtfull paces to behold the prize

Of Samson’s heart, and pleasure of his eyes.

They went, and when their travell had attain’d

Those fruitfull hils whose clusters entertain’d

Their thirsty palats with their swelling pride,

The musing lover being stept aside

To gaine the pleasure of a lonely thought,

Appear’d a full-ag’d lyon, who had sought

(But could not find) his long-desired prey.

Soone as his eye had given him hopes to pay

His debt to nature, and to mend that fault

His empty stomack found, he made assault

Vpon th’ unarm’d lover’s breast, whose hand

Had neither staffe nor weapon to withstand

His greedy rage; but he whose mighty strength

Or sudden death must now appeare, at length

Strecht forth his brawny arme, (his arme supplide

With power from heaven,) and did with ease divide

His body limme from limme, and did betray

His flesh to foules that lately sought his prey.

This done, his quick redoubled paces make

His stay amends; his nimble steps o’rtake

His leading parents, who by this discover

The smoake of Timnah: now the greedy lover

Thinkes every step a mile, and every pace

A measured league, untill he see that face,

And finde the treasure of his heart that lies

In the fair casket of his mistresse’ eyes.

But all this while close Samson made not knowne

Vnto his parents what his hands had done.

By this the gate of Timnah entertaines

The welcome travellers; the parents’ paines

Are now rewarded with their sonne’s best pleasure:

The virgin comes; his eyes can finde no leisure

To owne another object. O the greeting

Th’ impatient lovers had at their first meeting!

The lover speakes; she answers; he replies;

She blushes; he demandeth; she denies;

He pleades affection; she doubts; hee sues

For nuptiall love; she questions; he renewes

His earnest suit: importunes; she relents;

He must have no deniall; she consents:

They passe their mutuall loves; their joyned hands

Are equall earnests of the nuptiall bands.

The parents are agreed; all parties pleas’d;

The daye’s set downe; the lovers hearts are eas’d;

Nothing displeases now but the long stay

Betwixt th’ appointment and the mariage-day.

MEDITA VIII.

’Tis too severe a censure: if the sonne

Take him a wife; the marriage fairely done,

Without consent of parents (who perchance

Had rais’d his higher price, knew where t’advance

His better’d fortunes to one hundred more,)

He lives a fornicator, she, a whore:

Too hard a censure! and it seems to me

The parent’s most delinquent of the three.

What if the better minded sonne doe aime

At worth? what if rare vertues doe inflame

His rapt affection? what if the condition

Of an admired and dainty disposition

Hath won his soule? whereas the covetous father

Findes her gold light, and recommends him rather

T’ an old worne widow, whose more weighty purse

Is filled with gold, and with the orphan’s curse;

The sweet exuberance of whose full-mouth’d portion

Is but the cursed issue of extortion;

Whose worth, perchance, lies onely in her weight,

Or in the bosome of her great estate.

What if the sonne (that does not care to buy

Abundance at so deare a rate,) deny

The soule-detesting profer of his father,

And, in his better judgement, chooses rather

To match with meaner fortunes and desert?

I thinke that Mary chose the better part.

What noble families (that have outgrowne

The best records) have quite bin overthrowne

By wilfull parents, that will either force

100

Their sonnes to match, or haunt them with a curse!

That can adapt their humors to rejoyce

And fancy all things, but their children’s choyce!

Which makes them often timorous to reveale

The close desiers of their hearts, and steale

105

Such matches as perchance their faire advice

Might in the bud have hindred in a trice;

Which done, and past, O then their hasty spirit

Can thinke of nothing under disinherit:

He must be quite discarded and exiled;

110

The furious father must renounce his childe;

Nor pray’r nor blessing must he have; bereiven

Of all; nor must he live, nor die, forgiven;

When as the father’s rashnesse oftentimes

Was the first causer of the children’s crimes.

115

Parents, be not too cruell; children doe

Things oft too deepe for us t’inquire into.

What father would not storme if his wilde sonne

Should doe the deed that Samson here had done?

Nor doe I make it an exemplar act,

120

Onely let parents not be too exact,

To curse their children, or to dispossesse

Them of their blessings, Heaven may chance to blesse.

Be not too strict; faire language may recure

A fault of youth, whilst rougher words obdure.

125

Note 1. XXI. Francis Quarles.—He was born in 1592, and died in 1642. He was a writer of the age of King James, and in that of Charles I. Those poems which he published within the period to which this volume refers, were, “A Feast for Wormes,” “Pentelogia,” “The History of Queen Ester,” “Job Militant,” “The Historie of Samson,” “Sion’s Sonets,” “Sion’s Elegies,” and “Funerall Elegies,” with some few minor poems. Of Quarles as a writer, Mr. Willmott remarks: “It has been the misfortune of this poet to realize his own aphorism, that ‘Shame is the chronical disease of popularity, and that from fame to infamy is a beaten road.’ The favourite of Lord Essex, and the sometimes darling of the ‘plebeian judgments,’ is now known to many only in the ridicule of Pope. But Quarles will live in spite of the Dunciad. His manly vigour, his uncompromising independence, his disinterested patriotism, and his exalted piety, cannot be entirely forgotten. These are flowers whose blossoms no neglect can wither.” Perhaps the most popular poem of Quarles is his “Emblems,” which first appeared in 1635, and which appears to have been imitations of some Emblems written in Latin by Herman Hugo, a Jesuit. The Emblems of Quarles were addressed to his “beloved friend Edward Benlowes,” to whom he says, “You have put the theorbo [a kind of lute] into my hand, and I have played: you gave the musician the first encouragement; the music returneth to you for patronage.” From the various works of Quarles a rich volume of genuine poetry might be compiled, and should such a volume be published, it would redeem his name from the contempt into which it has so undeservedly fallen. [back]

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