Madagascar; with Other Poems/To the Lord Cary of Lepington, upon his translation of Malvezzi

by William Davenant

 

TO
THE LORD
Cary of Lepington,
upon his translation of
Malvezzi.

 

So swift is Thought; this Morne I tooke my flight
To ruin'd Babell, and return'd to Night:
So strong, that Time (whose course no pow'r could slack)
I have enforc'd some Forty ages back:
To me, that great disorder, and decay,
Was both begun, and consummate to Day:
My selfe, some strong Chaldean Mason there,
Still sore, with massie Stones they made me beare:
Just now (me thinkes) I'm struck, for some command
Mistooke, in words I could not understand.
So lasting are great Griefes, wee still retaine
Remembrance of them, though wee lose the paine:
And that Confusion did a griefe comprise,
Greatest, in that in most concern'd the Wise:
For these (who best deserve the care of Fate)
The first great Curse, much lesse did penetrate,
Which makes us labour for our Food so long,
Than that which mix'd, or cancell'd ev'ry Tongue:
'Cause now wee toyle, and swet for knowledge more,
Than for the Body's nourishment before.
Knowledge; ere it did practise to controle,
No Weapon was, but Diet of the Soule;
Which as her nourishment, she might enjoy,
Not like Controverts, others to destroy:
And this her Food (like Milke) did nourish best,
'Cause it was safe, and easie to digest:
Which Milke, that Curse on Languages turn'd sowre,
For Men scarce taste, what they could erst devoure:
Since now, we are preparing to be dead,
Ere we can halfe interpret what wee read.
Yet he, that for our Bodyes tooke such care,
That to each Wound, there sev'rall Med'cins are;
In nobler pitty, surely hath assign'd
A cure, for ev'ry mischiefe of the Minde:
So this revenge (perhaps) was but to trie
Our patience first, and then our industrie.
Since hee ordain'd, that beautious Truth should still
Be overcast, and hid from humane skill;
Sure he affects that Warre, which Schoole-men wage;
When to know Truth, doth make their knowledge, rage:
So Truth, is much more precious than our peace;
Though some fond Politicks, esteeme her lesse:
Lazy obedience, is to them devout;
And those rebellious, that dispute, or doubt,
But you (my Lord) must Valiantly despise
Their threats, that would keep Knowledge in disguise;
And toyle with Languages to make her cleere;
Which is, to be a just Interpreter.
And this selected Peece, which you translate,
Foretells, your Studies may communicate,
From darker Dialects of a strange Land,
Wisdome, that here th'unlearn'd shall understand.
What noble wonders may in time appeare,
When all, that's forreigne, growes domestick here?
When all the scatter'd World you reconcile,
Unto the Speech, and Idiom of this Isle:
How like a gen'rall Scepter rules that Pen,
Which Mankind makes, one kind of Country-men?