THE ARGUMENT.
Henry III., joined by Henry de Bourbon, King of Navarre, against the League, having blockaded Paris, sends Henry de Bourbon privately into England, in hopes of obtaining aid from Queen Elizabeth. A violent storm overtaking him in his voyage, he is obliged to put into an island, where an old hermit receives him, and foretells his change of religion, and accession to the throne. Description of England, and its government.
The chief renowned, who ruled in France, I sing.
By right of conquest and of birth, a king;
In various sufferings resolute and brave,
Faction he quelled: he conquered, and forgave.
Subdued the dangerous League, and factious Mayenne,
And curbed the headstrong arrogance of Spain.
He taught those realms he conquered to obey,
And made his subjects happy by his sway.
O heaven-born truth, descend, celestial muse,
Thy power, thy brightness in my verse infuse.
May kings attentive hear thy voice divine,
To teach the monarchs of mankind is thine.
‘Tis thine to war-enkindling realms to show
What dire effects from cursed divisions flow.
Relate the troubles of preceding times;
The people’s sufferings, and the princes’ crimes.
And O! if fable may her succors lend,
And with thy voice her softer accents blend;
If on thy light her shades sweet graces shed,
If her fair hand e’er decked thy sacred head,
Let her with me through all thy limits rove,
Not to conceal thy beauties, but improve.
Valois then governed the distracted land,
Loose flowed the reins of empire in his hand:
Rights were confounded, laws neglected bore
No force, alas! for Valois reigned no more.
No more the prince for deeds of war renowned,
Whom as her son victorious conquest owned;
Whose arms through Europe spread disordered fear,
Whose loyal subjects shed the pious tear,
When the bleak North proclaimed him truly great,
And laid her crowns and sceptres at his feet.
Those rays of glory, erst in battle won,
Sank into night, and vanished from the throne.
There sat the monarch in the lap of ease,
Reclining fondly in the arms of peace;
Too weak to bear in each lethargic hour,
The regal diadem, and weight of power.
Voluptuous youths usurped the sole command,
And reigned, in truth, the sovereigns of the land.
Pleased in their soft luxurious prince to find
Corrupted morals, and a female mind.
Meantime the Guises rose at fortune’s call;
And built their schemes of greatness on his fall.
Thence sprang the League, which proved the fatal source
Of numerous ills, and baffled all his force.
The servile, crowd, with vain chimeras fed,
Too blindly followed where the tyrants led.
Now from the Louvre see the monarch fly,
No faithful friend, no kind protection nigh;
All had been lost, but warlike Bourbon came,
Whose generous soul was fraught with virtue’s flame.
‘Twas his the royal sacrifice to save,
And teach once more the monarch to be brave.
The kings to Paris with their troops advance,
The eyes of Europe all are fixed on France.
Rome takes the alarm, her fears the Spaniards share,
And wait with dread the issue of the war.
High on the walls inhuman Discord stood,
Eager for slaughter, and athirst for blood;
Through all the city raged, nor raged in vain,
But drove to arms the hostile League, and Mayenne:
Through Church and State, the deadly poison spread,
And called the proud Iberia to her aid.
This savage monster scenes of horror loves,
And plagues the votaries whom her soul approves.
She racks and galls the slaves her chains confined,
And riots in the torments of mankind.
Westward of Paris, where the winding Seine
Adorns each meadow with eternal green,
Where oft the Graces and the Muses play,
The troops of Valois shone in dread array.
There, whom religion swayed by different laws
Revenge united in their sovereign’s cause.
A thousand chiefs stood forth at Bourbon’s word,
Love joined their hearts, and valor drew the sword.
With joy they followed the bright paths of fame,
But one their leader, and their Church the same.
Immortal Louis eyed him from above
With all the fondness of parental love:
Virtues he saw which Gallia’s king might grace,
And future glories worthy of his race.
Charmed with his courage, yet he grieved to find
Such weak discernment in so brave a mind:
Would gladly guide him to the throne of truth,
And wished to check the errors of his youth.
But valiant Henry gained the regal crown,
And rose by measures to himself unknown.
Louis was present from his blest abode
To lead the youthful hero in his road.
Full oft unseen the kind assistance came,
That toils and dangers might augment his fame.
Oft had our walls beheld with martial rage
In doubtful war the embattled ranks engage.
The plains were desolate, and carnage spread
From shore to shore her mountains of the dead,
When Valois thus addressed the chief with sighs,
And tears of sorrow streaming from his eyes:
“See to what height thy monarch’s ills are grown,
There read the faithful portrait of thy own.
With equal hate the factious Leaguers join
To strike at Bourbon’s glory, and at mine.
Seditious Paris, with a proud disdain,
Rejects the present, and the future reign.
The ties of blood, the laws, each generous care
That fills thy soul, proclaims thee lawful heir.
Great are thy virtues, and, I blush to own,
For this would Paris drive thee from the throne.
Nay, more, to show that heaven approves the deed,
Religion heaps her curses on thy head.
Rome without armies distant nations awes,
Spain hurls her thunder, and asserts her cause.
Friends, subjects, kindred, in this evil day,
Or basely fly, or proudly disobey.
Rich is the harvest of Iberia’s gains,
Who pours her legions on my desert plains.
Perchance, the succors of a foreign force
May stop the impending danger in its course.
Britannia’s queen may lend the friendly aid,
And mutual terror may our foes invade.
What, though eternal jealousy and pride
Oppose our interest, and our hearts divide,
When life’s severest ills have been endured,
My glory blasted, and my fame obscured,
When vile affronts have made my honor poor,
My subjects, and my country are no more,
Who comes these proud insulters to control
Is most my friend, and dearest to my soul.
No common, listless agent will I trust,
Be thou my envoy in a cause so just.
On thee my fortune in the war depends,
Thy merit only can procure me friends.”
Thus Valois spoke, and Bourbon heard with grief
The new designs, and counsels of the chief.
His great and generous mind disdained to yield
Thus to divide the glory of the field.
There was a time when conquest met his arm,
And all those honors which the brave can charm:
When strong in power, unaided by intrigue,
Himself, with Condé, quelled the trembling League.
Yet, in obedience to the king’s command,
He left his laurels, and withdrew his hand.
The troops, amazed, with restless ardor burn,
Their fate, their fortune wait on his return.
The absent hero still preserved his fame,
The guilty city shuddered at his name:
Each moment thought the mighty warrior near,
With death and desolation in his rear.
He through the plains of Neustria bends his way,
Attended only by his friend Mornay,
Mornay, too good to flatter, or deceive,
The cause of error too averse to leave.
By zeal and prudence studious to advance
Alike the interest of his Church and France,
The courtier’s censor, but at court beloved,
Rome’s greatest foe, and yet by Rome approved.
Between two rocks, which hoary ocean laves
And beats with all the fury of his waves,
The port of Dieppe meets the hero’s eyes,
And crowds of eager mariners supplies.
Their hands prepare the vessels for the main,
Those sovereign rulers of the azure plain.
The stormy Boreas, fast-enchained in air,
Leaves the smooth sea to softer Zephyr’s care.
Their anchor weighed, they swiftly quit the strand,
And soon descry Britannia’s happy land.
When lo! the day’s bright star is hid in clouds,
And gathering whirlwinds whistle through the shrouds.
Heaven gives her thunder, waves on waves arise,
And floods of lightning burst from all the skies.
Death mounts the storm, and foaming billows show
The king of terrors to the sailors’ view.
Nor death, nor dangers Bourbon’s soul annoy;
His country’s sorrows all his cares employ;
For her he casts the longing look behind,
The storm accuses, and condemns the wind.
Less generous warmth the Roman’s breast inspired,
By love of conquest, and ambition fired,
When, launching boldly from Epirus’ coast,
By angry seas and furious surges tossed,
He dared his mightier fortune to oppose
To all the power of Neptune, and his foes:
Firm, and convinced that no impending doom
Could snatch its monarch from the world, and Rome.
‘Twas then that Being, infinitely wise,
At whose high will all empires fall, or rise,
Who gave this world its fair and beauteous form,
Who calms the ocean, and directs the storm,
On Gallia’s hero looked with pity down
From the bright radiance of His sapphire throne.
The waves, obedient to His dread command,
Conveyed the vessel to the neighboring land.
Guided by heaven, secure the hero stood
Where Jersey’s isle emerges from the flood.
Near to the shore there lay a calm retreat,
By shades defended from the solar heat.
A rock, that hid the fury of the seas,
Forbade the entrance of each ruder breeze.
By nature’s hand adorned, a mossy grot
Improved the beauties of this rural spot.
A holy hermit, trained in wisdom’s ways,
There spent the quiet evening of his days.
Lost to the world, and all its trifling show,
His only study was himself to know.
O’er every fault his pensive mind would rove,
Which pleasure dictates, or which springs from love.
The flowery meadows, and the silver streams
Had raised his soul to more enlightened themes.
Each passion quelled in this retired abode,
His ardent wish was union with his God.
Wisdom before him spread her ample page,
And heaven protected his declining age.
She poured her purest blessings on his head,
And taught him Fate’s mysterious book to read.
The hoary sage, who well our hero knew,
Whom God informed with science ever true,
Near a clear stream invites the prince to taste
The simple diet of his rural feast.
He oft had fled from vanity and care,
To humble cottages, and simpler fare;
Had bid adieu to courts, and courtly pride,
And laid the pomp of majesty aside.
In plain and useful converse much was said
Of troubles through the Christian empire spread.
Mornay unmoved determined to protect
With zealous fervor Calvin and his sect.
Henry, in doubt what precepts to believe,
Petitioned heaven one ray of light to give.
“Error,” he said, “in all preceding times,
Has truth concealed, and been the nurse of crimes.
Must I then wander, and mistake the road,
Whose only confidence is placed in God?
A God, so gracious, sure will lend His aid,
And teach mankind what worship should be paid.”
“Let us,” replied the venerable seer,
“God’s secret counsels, and designs revere.
Nor rashly think that human errors bring
Their muddy currents from so pure a spring.
Well I remember, when these aged eyes
Beheld this sect in humble weakness rise,
When, as an exile dreading human sight,
It fled for refuge to the shades of night.
By slow degrees the phantom raised her head,
And all around her baleful influence shed.
Placed on the throne, no power her force confines,
She reigns our tyrant, and o’erturns our shrines.
Far from the court, in this obscure retreat,
With sighs and tears I weep Religion’s fate.
One hope remains to cheer life’s dreary vale;
So strange a worship cannot long prevail:
Its new-born glory in our days shall cease,
First sprung from man, and founded in caprice.
Frail, like ourselves, all human works decay;
God sweeps their glory and their pride away.
Safe and secure His holy city stands;
Nor dreads the malice of our mortal hands.
In vain the fabric hell and time invade,
His own right arm the strong foundation laid.
On thee, great Bourbon, will He pour His light,
And chase the mists of error from thy sight.
On Valois’ throne, with Providence thy shield,
Bright wilt thou shine, and all thy foes shall yield.
Through paths of glory conquest leads thy sword;
‘Tis heaven’s decree; the Highest gave His word.
Yet hope not rashly, in the pride of youth,
To enter Paris, uninformed by truth.
But most of love’s bewitching draught beware,
The bravest hearts are conquered by the fair.
From that sweet poison guard thy manly soul;
Though passion calls, and pleasure crowns the bowl.
And when, at length, this sage advice pursued,
The factious Leaguers, and thyself subdued,
In horrid siege thy bounteous hand shall give
Life to a nation, and its strength revive;
Then all thy realms shall taste the sweets of peace,
All strife shall vanish, and all discord cease.
Then raise thine eyes to that almighty Lord
Whom erst our fathers honored and adored.
Who most preserves His image, most shall find
That virtue pleases, and that heaven is kind.”
Thus spoke the seer, each word new warmth bestowed,
And Henry’s soul with secret raptures glowed.
Those happy days were present to his eyes,
When God to man descended from the skies;
When virtue opened all her sacred springs,
Pronounced her oracles, and governed kings.
With tears he clasped the hermit to his breast,
And parting sighs his honest grief expressed.
Far distant scenes creative fancy drew,
And rising glories dawned upon his view.
Marks of surprise were stamped on Mornay’s face,
But heaven from him withheld her gifts of grace.
The world in vain bestows the name of wise,
Where virtue beams, but error’s clouds arise.
While thus the sage, enlightened from above,
Spoke to the heart, and tried the prince to move,
Charmed with his voice the listening winds subside,
Phoebus breaks forth, and ocean smooths the tide.
By him conducted, Bourbon reached the shore,
And prosperous gales the chief to Albion bore.
Soon as he saw the sea-encircled isle,
Its change of fortune made the hero smile.
Where once the public evils owed their cause
To long abuses of the wisest laws,
Where many a warrior fell of high renown,
And kings descended from the tottering throne,
A virgin queen the regal sceptre swayed,
And fate itself her sovereign power obeyed.
The wise Eliza, whose directing hand
Had the great scale of Europe at command;
And ruled a people that alike disdain
Or freedom’s ease, or slavery’s iron chain.
Of every loss her reign oblivion bred;
There, flocks unnumbered graze each flowery mead.
Britannia’s vessels rule the azure seas,
Corn fills her plains, and fruitage loads her trees.
From pole to pole her gallant navies sweep
The waters of the tributary deep.
On Thames’s banks each flower of genius thrives,
There sports the Muse, and Mars his thunder gives.
Three different powers at Westminster appear,
And all admire the ties which join them there.
Whom interest parts, the laws together bring,
The people’s deputies, the peers, and king. —
One whole they form, whose terror wide extends
To neighboring nations, and their rights defends.
Thrice happy times, when grateful subjects show
That loyal, warm affection which is due!
But happier still, when freedom’s blessings spring
From the wise conduct of a prudent king.
“O when,” cried Bourbon, ravished at the sight,
“In France shall peace and glory thus unite?”
A female hand has closed the gates of war,
Look on, ye monarchs, and adopt her care.
Your nations Discord’s horrid tide o’erwhelms,
She lives, the blessing of adoring realms.
Now at that spacious city he arrives,
Where nursed by heaven-born freedom plenty lives.
Now, mighty William’s tower before him stood,
Now, fair Eliza’s more august abode.
Thither he speeds, attended by Mornay,
His friend and sole associate in the way.
True heroes that love pageantry and state,
Whose glittering honors captivate the great.
For France he supplicates with humble prayers,
And native dignity each accent bears.
From honest frankness all his periods flow,
The only eloquence that soldiers know.
“Does Valois send you to the banks of Thame?”
Eliza cries, surprised at Valois’s name.
“Are all your dire contentions at an end!
And you, that bitterest enemy, his friend!
Fame spread your discords, and that fame was true,
From north, to south, from Ganges, to Peru.
And does that arm, so dreaded in the fight,
Protect his honor, and maintain his right!”
“Distress,” replied the chief, “our friendship gave,
The chains are broke, and Valois will be brave.
Far happier days he once was doomed to see,
Had all his confidence been placed in me.
But fears unmanly in his breast arose,
‘Twas art and cowardice that made us foes.
Henceforth, the vanquished shall my aid receive,
His wrongs I punish, and his faults forgive.
This war so just may raise Britannia’s fame,
‘Tis thine, great queen, to signalize her name.
Let royal mercy spread her downy wings,
And crown thy virtues by defending kings.”
The queen, impatient, asks him to relate
What ruthless evils harassed Gallia’s state.
What springs of action had produced a change
At once so new, so wonderful, and strange.
“Full oft of bloody broils,” Eliza said,
“Through Britain’s isle has fame the rumor spread.
But who for certainty on fame depends,
Which light with darkness, truth with falsehood blends?
From you or Valois’ friend, or conquering foe,
Those long dissensions I could wish to know.
Yourself was witness, and can best impart
What mystic ties have changed so brave a heart.
Display your martial deeds, your griefs declare,
No life more worthy of a royal ear.”
“And must I then,” returned the chief with sighs,
“Recall those scenes of horror to my eyes?
O would to heaven, oblivion’s endless night
With thickest shades might veil them from my sight!
Must Bourbon tell of kindred princes’ crimes,
And the fell madness of preceding times?
I shudder at the thought, but your command,
Respect of power forbids me to withstand.
Others, no doubt, would use refined address,
Disguise the truth, and make their errors less:
But I reject an artifice so weak,
And like a soldier, not an envoy, speak.”