Whom her wing'd hand advanceth, since on it All whose poor seed, like violets in their beds, By the most humble and faithful implorer for all by your divine Homer. GEO. CHAPMAN. 150 AN ANAGRAM OF THE NAME OF OUR DREAD PRINCE, MY MOST GRACIOUS AND SACRED MÆCENAS, B HENRYE PRINCE OF VVALES OVR SVNN, HEYR, PEACE, LIFE. E to us, as thy great name doth import, Thy name and noblest title doth contain But in our soul's discourses bears a part; In th' other order'd our divine part serves. But SVNN, PEACE, LIFE; and, what thy pow'r deserves Shall make thee to thyself HEYR, SVNN, PEACE, LIFE. TO THE SACRED FOUNTAIN OF PRINCES, SOLE EMPRESS OF BEAUTY AND VIRTUE, ANNE, QUEEN OF ENGLAND, ETC. ITH whatsoever honour we adorn Your royal issue, we must gratulate you, If it be honour then to join you both To such a pow'rful work as shall defend It comprehends the guard of all your State, Your Majesty's in all subjection most humbly consecrate, GEO. CHAPMAN. ANNE, daughter of FREDERICK II. of Denmark, married King James Ist 20 Aug. 1590, and died 2 March, 1619. LEST with foul hands you touch these holy rites, Pass Homer in your other poets' slights, Wash here. In this porch to his num'rous fane, H SILIUS ITALICUS, LIB. XIII. 777. E, in Elysium having cast his eye Upon the figure of a youth, whose hair, Hung on his shoulders wond'rous bright and fair, Said: Virgin, what is he whose heav'nly face A very God?' The learned virgin made This answer: If thou shouldst believe it here, Thou shouldst not err. He well deserv'd to be Esteem'd a God; nor held his so-much breast 5 10 A little presence of the Deity, His verse compris'd earth, seas, stars, souls at rest; In song the Muses he did equalize, In honour Phoebus. He was only soul, Saw all things spher'd in nature, without eyes, And rais'd your Troy up to the starry pole.' Glad Scipio, viewing well this prince of ghosts, Said: O if Fates would give this poet leave How much beyond would future times receive That out of such a mouth thou shouldst be shown Of all times future with what he did know! Now hear an Angel sing our poet's fame, ANGELUS POLITIANUS, IN NUTRICIA.* More living than in old Demodocus, Fame glories to wax young in Homer's verse. And as when bright Hyperion holds to us His golden torch, we see the stars disperse, And ev'ry way fly heav'n, the pallid moon So, with the dazzling beams of Homer's sun, The lines begin, 66 nam Demodoci vivacior ævo * Obstrepuit, prorsusque parem confessus Apollo est." 15 20 25 30 35 40 |