Page:Gondibert, an heroick poem - William Davenant (1651).djvu/201

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an Heroick Poem.
123
48.
About this sacred little Book did stand
Unwieldy Volumes, and in number great;
And long it was since any Readers hand
Had reach'd them from their unfrequented Seat.

49.
For a deep Dust (which Time does softly shed,
Where onely Time does come) their Covers bear;
On which, grave Spiders, streets of webs have spred;
Subtle, and slight, as the grave Writers were.

50.
In these, Heav'ns holy fire does vainly burn;
Nor warms, nor lights, but is in sparkles spent,
Where froward Authours, with disputes, have torn
The Garment seamless as the Firmament.

51.
These are the old Polemicks, long since read,
And shut by Astragon; who thought it just,
They, like the Authours (Truth's Tormentors) dead,
Should lie unvisited, and lost in dust.

52.
Here the Arabian's Gospel open lay,
(Men injure Truth, who Fiction nicely hide)
Where they the Monk's audacious stealth survay,
From the World's first, and greater second Guide.

53.
The Curious much perus'd this, then, new Book;
As if some secret ways to Heav'n it taught;
For straying from the old, men newer look,
And prise the found, not finding those they sought.

54.
We, in Tradition (Heav'ns dark Map) descrie
Heav'n worse than ancient Maps far Indian show;
Therefore in new, we search where Heav'n does lie;
The Minds sought Ophir, which we long to know.