Chapter 2 No.2

Cover

INTRODUCTION TO THOMAS STANLEY

Thomas Stanley, poet, scholar, translator, and historian of philosophy, occupies a position in literary history, and in the general knowledge of fairly instructed people, which is less unenviable than that of Cleveland, almost equally curious, but more distinctly accidental. In a way-in more ways than one-he cannot be said to be exactly unknown. Everybody who has received the once usual 'liberal education', if not directly acquainted with his work on classical literature, has seen his History of Philosophy referred to in later histories; and his notes on Aeschylus quoted, and sometimes fought over, in later editions. His translations have attained a place in that private-adventure Valhalla of English translations-Bohn's Library. A few at least of his poems are in all or most of the anthologies. Not many writers have such an anchor with four flukes, lodged in the general memory, as this. And yet there are probably few people who have any very distinct knowledge or idea of his work as a whole; his Poems (until a time subsequent to the original promise of them in this Collection) had never been issued since his own day save in one of the few-copied reprints of the indefatigable Sir Egerton Brydges; and he makes small figure in most literary histories.

The reasons of this, however, are not very far to seek. For a very considerable time during the later seventeenth and the whole of the eighteenth century, if not later, Stanley was a recognized authority on history and scholarship: but during this time a philosopher and a scholar would have been usually thought to derogate, strangely and not quite pardonably, by writing and translating love poetry in a style of 'false wit' the most contrary to the precepts of Mr. Addison. We cannot even be sure that Stanley himself would not have been short-sighted enough to feel a certain shame at his harmless fredaines in verse, for he certainly never published or fully collected them at all after he was six and twenty, though he lived to double that age. He seems, moreover, though most forward to help other men of letters, to have been in all other ways a decidedly retiring person-a man of books rather than of affairs. Though an unquestioned Royalist, and not accused of any dishonourable compliance, he seems to have been quite undisturbed during the Civil War, no doubt because of his observation of the precept λ?θε βι?σα?. In short, he took no trouble to keep himself before any public except the public of letters, and the public of letters chose to keep him only in his capacity as scholar.

If, however, he put himself not forward it was not for want of means and opportunity to do so. After some mistakes about his genealogy, it has been made certain that he was descended, though with the bend sinister, from the great house that bears the same name, and through a branch which enriched itself by commerce and settled in Hertfordshire and Essex. His mother was a Hammond of the family which has been referred to in dealing with his uncle the poet (vol. ii), and he was also connected with Sandys, Lovelace, and Sherburne, all of whom were his intimate friends, as were John Hall and Shirley the dramatist. He seems always to have been a man of means: and used them liberally, though less thoughtlessly than Benlowes, in assisting brother men of letters. He is not said to have been at any of the great schools, but his private tutor William Fairfax (son of Edward of Tasso fame) appears to have grounded him thoroughly in scholarship. At thirteen he went to Pembroke College (then Hall), Cambridge, entering in June 1639 and matriculating in December. He is said to have entered at Oxford next year. He was co-opted at Cambridge in 1642 as (apparently) a gentleman pensioner or commoner. He married early, his wife's name being Dorothy Enyon, and they had several children, of whom four survived him when he died, in 1678, at Suffolk Street, St. Martin's-in-the-Fields.

There is a tendency-which is perhaps rather slightly unfair than positively unjust-to suspect a poet who is specially given to translation: and not exactly to discard the suspicion in the ratio of his excellence as a translator. The reason behind this is sufficient, as has been said, to free it from the charge of positive injustice as a general rule, for it may be plausibly contended that a true poet, with nature and his own soul to draw upon, will not experience any great necessity to go to some one else for matter. But these general rules are always dangerous in particular application, and therefore it has been said that the notion is not quite fair. In fact, if it is examined as it does apply to individuals, it becomes clear that it will not do as a general rule at all-that like some other general rules it is practically useless. That Chaucer was grant translateur may be said to be neither here nor there in the circumstances. But Spenser did not disdain translation; Dryden evidently did it for love as well as for money, though the latter may have been its chief attraction for Pope; and a poet such as Shelley, who was very nearly the poet, by no means despised it.

When, however, we come to examine Stanley's work we may perhaps discover something in the very excellence of his translations which connects itself usefully with his original poems. These translations are excellent because he has almost unerringly selected writers who are suitable to the poetical style of his own day, and has transposed them into English verse of that style. But in his original poems there is perhaps a little too much suggestion of something not wholly dissimilar. They are (pretty as they almost always are, and beautiful as they sometimes are) a little devoid of the spontaneity and élan which distinguish the best things of the time from Carew and Crashaw down to Kynaston and John Hall. There is a very little of the exercise about them. Moreover, not quite as a necessary consequence of this, there is a want of decided character. Stanley is much more a typical minor Caroline poet than he is Stanley, and so much must needs be said critically in these volumes on the type that it seems unnecessary to repeat it on an individual who gives that type with little idiosyncrasy, even while giving it in some abundance and with real charm. Only let it be added that we could not have a better foil to Cleveland, who, though unpolished, is always 'Manly, Sir, manly!' than this scholarly and graceful but somewhat epicene poet.

There are, however, some peculiarities about his work which made me slow to make up my mind about the fashion of presenting it. His translations are numerous: but this collection was not originally intended to include translations unless they were inextricably connected with issues of original work, or where, as in Godolphin's case, there was a special reason. Further, the translations, which are from a large number of authors, ancient and modern, sometimes include prose as well as verse. Thirdly, even the original poems were cross-issued in widely different arrangements. In short, the thing was rather a muddle, and though no one has occupied me in my various visits to the British Museum and the Bodleian during the past ten or twelve years oftener than Stanley, I postponed him from volume to volume. At last, and very recently a feasible plan suggested itself-to give the edition of 1651 as Brydges had done, this being after all the only one which at once represents revision and definite literary purpose, and to let the translations in this represent-as the poet seems himself to have selected them to do-his translating habits and studies. Before these I have printed the original poems of the first or 1647 edition, and after them the few which he seems to have allowed to be added to the set versions in Gamble's Airs and Dialogues ten years later. I think this will put Stanley on a fair level with the rest of our flock. Those who want his classical translations from Anacreon, Ausonius, the Idylls, and the Pervigilium, as well as from Johannes Secundus, will not have much difficulty in finding them; and I did not see my way to load this volume with Preti's Oronta, Montalvan's Aurora, &c. The bibliography of these things is rather complicated, and I do not pretend to have followed it out exhaustively. In fact this is certainly the case as far as my own collations of 1647, made at the British Museum, and those furnished me from the Bodleian copy are concerned.1 But the differences are rarely of importance. 1647, a private issue, was reprinted in 1650 and 1651: while Gamble's Airs and Dialogues appeared in 1656 and was reissued with a fresh title-page in 1657. In the latter year Stanley furnished another composer-John Wilson, Professor of Music at Oxford-with the letterpress of Psalterium Carolinum, the King's devotions from the Eikon versified. His History of Philosophy appeared in 1655: his Aeschylus in 1663.

Some years ago (London, 1893) a beautiful illustrated edition of his Anacreon appeared, and more recently-but, as I have noted, after the announcement of this collection-a carefully arranged and collated edition of the original Lyrics with a few selected translations (Tutin, Hull, 1907), edited by Miss L. Imogen Guiney. I have not found Miss Guiney's work useless, and if I have occasionally had to question her emendations that is only a matter of course.

1 I am informed by three subsequent collators more experienced in such work than myself-Mr. Percy Simpson, Mr. Thorn-Drury, and a Clarendon Press reader-that they have not found some differences which my own comparison-notes of some years ago seemed to show between the British Museum and the Bodleian copies of 1647. No doubt they are right. Some of the dates given above have also been corrected by them.

CONTENTS

PAGE

THOMAS STANLEY 95

Introduction 97

Poems not printed after 1647 101

Despair 101

The Picture 101

Opinion 101

Poems printed in 1647 and reprinted in 1656 but not in 1651 102

The Dream 102

To Chariessa, beholding herself in a Glass 102

The Blush 103

The Cold Kiss 103

The Idolater 104

The Magnet 104

On a Violet in her Breast 105

Song: 'Foolish lover, go and seek' 105

The Parting 106

Counsel 106

Expostulation with Love in Despair 107

Song: 'Faith, 'tis not worth thy pains and care' 108

Expectation 108

1651 Poems 109

The Dedication: To Love 109

The Glow-worm 110

The Breath 111

Desiring her to burn his Verses 111

The Night 112

Excuse for wishing her less Fair 113

Chang'd, yet Constant 113

The Self-deceiver (Montalvan) 115

The Cure 115

Celia Singing 117

A la Mesme 117

The Return 118

Song: 'When I lie burning in thine eye' 119

The Sick Lover (Guarini) 119

Song: 'Celinda, by what potent art' 120

Song: 'Fool, take up thy shaft again' 120

Delay 121

Commanded by his Mistress to woo for her (Marina) 121

The Repulse 122

The Tomb 123

The Enjoyment (St.-Amant) 124

To Celia Pleading Want of Merit 126

The Bracelet (Tristan) 127

The Kiss 128

Apollo and Daphne (Garcilasso Marino) 128

Speaking and Kissing 129

The Snow-ball 129

The Deposition 130

To his Mistress in Absence (Tasso) 130

Love's Heretic 130

La Belle Confidente 132

La Belle Ennemie 132

The Dream (Lope de Vega) 133

To the Lady D. 133

Love Deposed 134

The Divorce 134

Time Recovered (Casone) 135

The Bracelet 135

The Farewell 136

Claim to Love (Guarini) 137

To his Mistress, who dreamed he was wounded (Guarini) 137

The Exchange 138

Unaltered by Sickness 138

On his Mistress's Death (Petrarch) 139

The Exequies 139

The Silkworm 140

A Lady Weeping (Montalvan) 140

Ambition 141

Song: 'When, dearest beauty, thou shall pay' 141

The Revenge 142

Song: 'I will not trust thy tempting graces' 142

Song: 'No, I will sooner trust the wind' 143

To a Blind Man in Love (Marino) 143

Answer 143

Song: 'I prithee let my heart alone' 144

The Loss 144

The Self-Cruel 145

Song (by M. W. M.): 'Wert thou yet fairer than thou art' 145

Answer 146

The Relapse 146

To the Countess of S. with the Holy Court 147

Song (De Voiture): 'I languish in a silent flame' 147

Drawn for Valentine by the L. D. S. 148

The Modest Wish (Barclay) 148

E Catalectis Veterum Poetarum 149

On the Edition of Mr. Fletcher's Works 149

To Mr. W. Hammond 150

On Mr. Shirley's Poems 151

On Mr. Sherburn's Translation of Seneca's Medea, and Vindication of the Author 152

On Mr. Hall's Essays 153

On Sir John Suckling his Picture and Poems 154

The Union (by Mr. William Fairfax) 154

The Answer 154

Pythagoras his Moral Rules 155

Poems appearing only in the Edition of 1656 159

'On this swelling bank, once proud' 159

'Dear, fold me once more in thine arms!' 160

'The lazy hours move slow' 160

POEMS NOT PRINTED AFTER 1647

Despair.

No, no, poor blasted Hope!

Since I (with thee) have lost the scope

Of all my joys, I will no more

Vainly implore

The unrelenting Destinies:

He that can equally sustain

The strong assaults of joy or pain,

May safely laugh at their decrees.

Despair, to thee I bow,

10Whose constancy disdains t' allow

Those childish passions that destroy

Our fickle joy;

How cruel Fates so e'er appear,

Their harmless anger I despise,

And fix'd, can neither fall nor rise,

Thrown below hope, but rais'd 'bove fear.

Despair.] Note here the skill and success of the use of the short-almost 'bob'-lines, and the In Memoriam arrangement of rhyme in the last half of each stanza.

The Picture.

Thou that both feel'st and dost admire

The flames shot from a painted fire,

Know Celia's image thou dost see:

Not to herself more like is she.

He that should both together view

Would judge both pictures, or both true.

But thus they differ: the best part

Of Nature this is; that of Art.

The Picture.] The conceit wraps up the point of the epigram.

Opinion.

Whence took the diamond worth? the borrow'd rays

That crystal wears, whence had they first their praise?

Why should rude feet contemn the snow's chaste white,

Which from the sun receives a sparkling light,

Brighter than diamonds far, and by its birth

Decks the green garment of the richer earth?

Rivers than crystal clearer, when to ice

Congeal'd, why do weak judgements so despise?

Which, melting, show that to impartial sight

10Weeping than smiling crystal is more bright.

But Fancy those first priz'd, and these did scorn,

Taking their praise the other to adorn.

Thus blind is human sight: opinion gave

To their esteem a birth, to theirs a grave;

Nor can our judgements with these clouds dispense,

Since reason sees but with the eyes of sense.

Opinion.] As in The Dream, distinctly nervous stopped couplet.

POEMS PRINTED IN 1647 AND REPRINTED

IN 1656 BUT NOT IN 1651

The Dream.

That I might ever dream thus! that some power

To my eternal sleep would join this hour!

So, willingly deceiv'd, I might possess

In seeming joys a real happiness.

Haste not away: oh do not dissipate

A pleasure thou so lately didst create!

Stay, welcome Sleep; be ever here confin'd;

Or if thou wilt away, leave her behind.

The Dream.] Closed couplets, already of considerable accomplishment. Reprinted in 1656 in an enlarged form; after ll. 1-4 the poem continued:-

Death, I would gladly bow beneath thy charms,

If thou couldst bring my Doris to my arms,

That thus at last made happy I might prove

In life the hell, in death the heaven of love.

Haste not away so soon, mock not my joy,

With the delusive sight or empty noise

Of happiness; oh do not dissipate

A pleasure thou so lately didst create!

Shadows of life or death do such bliss give,

That 'tis an equal curse to wake or live.

Stay then, kind Sleep; be ever here confin'd;

Or if thou wilt away, leave her behind.

To Chariessa, beholding herself in a Glass.

Cast, Chariessa, cast that glass away,

Nor in its crystal face thine own survey.

What can be free from Love's imperious laws

When painted shadows real flames can cause?

The fires may burn thee from this mirror rise

By the reflected beams of thine own eyes;

And thus at last, fallen with thyself in love,

Thou wilt my rival, thine own martyr prove.

But if thou dost desire thy form to view,

10Look in my heart where Love thy picture drew;

And then, if pleased with thine own shape thou be,

Learn how to love thyself in loving me.

To Chariessa &c.] 12 1656 'by loving'.

The Blush.

So fair Aurora doth herself discover

(Asham'd o' th' aged bed of her cold lover)

In modest blushes, whilst the treacherous light

Betrays her early shame to the world's sight.

Such a bright colour doth the morning rose

Diffuse, when she her soft self doth disclose

Half drown'd in dew, whilst on each leaf a tear

Of night doth like a dissolv'd pearl appear;

Yet 'twere in vain a colour out to seek

10To parallel my Chariessa's cheek;

Less are conferr'd with greater, and these seem

To blush like her, not she to blush like them.

But whence, fair soul, this passion? what pretence

Had guilt to stain thy spotless innocence?

Those only this feel who have guilty been,

Not any blushes know, but who know sin.

Then blush no more; but let thy chaster flame,

That knows no cause, know no effects of shame.

The Blush.] Interesting to compare prosodically with The Dream and Opinion. A much older fashion of couplet, here and there overlapped and breathless, but pointing towards the newer. In l. 11 Miss Guiney has unfortunately altered 'conferr'd' (confero = 'to set side by side') to 'compar'd'. In l. 15, 1647 has the common 'bin' and l. 16 'knows' for the second 'know'.

The Cold Kiss.

Such icy kisses, anchorites that live

Secluded from the world, to dead skulls give;

And those cold maids on whom Love never spent

His flame, nor know what by desire is meant,

To their expiring fathers such bequeath,

Snatching their fleeting spirits in that breath:

The timorous priest doth with such fear and nice

Devotion touch the Holy Sacrifice.

Fie, Chariessa! whence so chang'd of late,

10As to become in love a reprobate?

Quit, quit this dullness, Fairest, and make known

A flame unto me equal with mine own.

Shake off this frost, for shame, that dwells upon

Thy lips; or if it will not so be gone,

Let 's once more join our lips, and thou shalt see

That by the flame of mine 'twill melted be.

The Cold Kiss.] There are some very trifling alterations, all for the worse, in 1656 (Gamble).

The Idolater.

Think not, pale lover, he who dies,

Burnt in the flames of Celia's eyes,

Is unto Love a sacrifice;

Or, by the merit of this pain,

Thou shalt the crown of martyrs gain!

Those hopes are, as thy passion, vain.

For when, by death, from these flames free,

To greater thou condemn'd shalt be,

And punish'd for idolatry,

10Since thou (Love's votary before

Whilst He was kind) dost him no more,

But, in his shrine, Disdain adore.

Nor will this fire (the gods prepare

To punish scorn) that cruel Fair,

(Though now from flames exempted) spare;

But as together both shall die,

Both burnt alike in flames shall lie,

She in thy breast, thou in her eye.

The Idolater.] 11 'He' altered in 1656 to 'she', which Miss Guiney adopts. But of course 'He' is Love.

18 breast 1647: later, much worse, 'heart'.

The Magnet.

Ask the empress of the night

How the Hand which guides her sphere,

Constant in unconstant light,

Taught the waves her yoke to bear,

And did thus by loving force

Curb or tame the rude sea's course.

Ask the female palm how she

First did woo her husband's love;

And the magnet, ask how he

10Doth th' obsequious iron move;

Waters, plants, and stones know this:

That they love; not what Love is.

Be not then less kind than these,

Or from Love exempt alone!

Let us twine like amorous trees,

And like rivers melt in one.

Or, if thou more cruel prove,

Learn of steel and stones to love.

The Magnet.] 9 'he' 1647, altered to 'she' in 1656. One would expect 'he' to avoid identical rhyme, but Stanley was a scholar and the Greek is ? Μαγν?τι? λ?θο?, and the other things to be 'asked' are feminine.

In l. 13 'then' became 'thou', neither for better nor for worse.

On a Violet in her Breast.

See how this violet, which before

Hung sullenly her drooping head,

As angry at the ground that bore

The purple treasure which she spread,

Doth smilingly erected grow,

Transplanted to those hills of snow.

And whilst the pillows of thy breast

Do her reclining head sustain,

She swells with pride to be so blest,

10And doth all other flowers disdain;

Yet weeps that dew which kissed her last,

To see her odours so surpass'd.

Poor flower! how far deceiv'd thou wert,

To think the riches of the morn,

Or all the sweets she can impart,

Could these or sweeten or adorn,

Since thou from them dost borrow scent,

And they to thee lend ornament!

On a Violet in her Breast.] 6 'hills of snow' is probably as old as the Garden of Eden (if there was snow there). But Stanley must have known the exquisite second verse of 'Take, oh take those lips away' in The Bloody Brother. I would ask any one who despises this as a mere commonplace love-poem to note-if he can-the splendid swell of the verse to the fourth line, and then the 'turn' of the final couplet. With Stanley and his generation that swell and turn passed-never to reappear till William Blake revived it nearly a century and a half afterwards.

Song.

Foolish Lover, go and seek

For the damask of the rose,

And the lilies white dispose

To adorn thy mistress' cheek;

Steal some star out of the sky,

Rob the phoenix, and the east

Of her wealthy sweets divest,

To enrich her breath or eye!

We thy borrow'd pride despise:

10For this wine, to which we are

Votaries, is richer far

Than her cheek, or breath, or eyes.

And should that coy fair one view

These diviner beauties, she

In this flame would rival thee,

And be taught to love thee too.

Come, then, break thy wanton chain,

That when this brisk wine hath spread

On thy paler cheek a red,

30Thou, like us, mayst Love disdain.

Love, thy power must yield to wine!

And whilst thus ourselves we arm,

Boldly we defy thy charm:

For these flames extinguish thine.

Song.] A Donne-inspired one, doubtless, but not ill justified. 'Distinguish' in the last line is one of the numerous misprints of 1656.

The Parting.

I go, dear Saint, away,

Snatch'd from thy arms

By far less pleasing charms,

Than those I did obey;

But when hereafter thou shall know

That grief hath slain me, come,

And on my tomb

Drop, drop a tear or two;

Break with thy sighs the silence of my sleep,

10And I shall smile in death to see thee weep.

Thy tears may have the power

To reinspire

My ashes with new fire,

Or change me to some flower,

Which, planted 'twixt thy breasts, shall grow:

Veil'd in this shape, I will

Dwell with thee still,

Court, kiss, enjoy thee too:

Securely we'll contemn all envious force,

20And thus united be by death's divorce.

The Parting.] 19 contemn 1647: contain 1656.

Counsel.

When deceitful lovers lay

At thy feet their suppliant hearts,

And their snares spread to betray

Thy best treasure with their arts,

Credit not their flatt'ring vows:

Love such perjury allows.

When they with the choicest wealth

Nature boasts of, have possess'd thee;

When with flowers (their verses' stealth),

10Stars, or jewels they invest thee,

Trust not to their borrow'd store:

'Tis but lent to make thee poor.

When with poems they invade thee,

Sing thy praises or disdain;

When they weep, and would persuade thee

That their flames beget that rain;

Let thy breast no baits let in:

Mercy 's only here a sin!

Let no tears or offerings move thee,

20All those cunning charms avoid;

For that wealth for which they love thee,

They would slight if once enjoy'd.

Who would keep another's heart

With her own must never part.

Counsel.] 7 'the' altered in 1656 to 'their', which is clearly wrong. But the untrustworthiness of Gamble's text is still better illustrated by l. 10, which he twists into-

Stars to jewels they divest thee.

The copy was probably dictated to a very careless, ignorant, or stupid workman.