Classic Poem

Dauncing (bright Lady) then began to bee,
When the first seeds whereof the World did spring,
The fire, ayre, earth, and water--did agree,
By Love's perswasion,--Nature's mighty King,--
To leave their first disordred combating;
And in a daunce such measure to observe,
As all the world their motion should perserve.

Since when, they still are carried in a round,
And changing, come one in another's place;
Yet doe they neither mingle nor confound,
But every one doth keepe the bounded space
Wherein the Daunce doth bid it turne or trace;
This wondrous myracle did Love devise,
For Dauncing is Love's proper exercise.

Like this, he fram'd the gods' eternall Bower,
And of a shapelesse and confused masse,
By his through-piercing and digesting power,
The turning vault of heaven formed was;
Whose starry wheeles he hath so made to passe,
As that their moovings do a musicke frame,
And they themselves still daunce unto the same.

Behold the World, how it is whirled round,
And for it is so whirl'd, is named so;
In whose large volume many rules are found
Of this new Art, which it doth fairely show;
For your quicke eyes in wandring too and fro
From East to West, on no one thing can glaunce,
But if you marke it well, it seemes to daunce.

First you see fixt in this huge mirrour blew,
Of trembling lights, a number numberlesse:
Fixt they are nam'd, but with a name untrue,
For they all moove and in a Daunce expresse
That great long yeare, that doth containe no lesse
Then threescore hundreds of those yeares in all,
Which the sunne makes with his course naturall.

What if to you these sparks disordered seeme
As if by chaunce they had beene scattered there?
The gods a solemne measure doe it deeme,
And see a just proportion every where,
And know the points whence first their movings were;
To which first points when all returne againe,
The axel-tree of Heav'n shall breake in twaine.

Under that spangled skye, five wandring flames
Besides the King of Day, and Queene of Night,
Are wheel'd around, all in their sundry frames,
And all in sundry measures doe delight,
Yet altogether keepe no measure right;
For by it selfe each doth it selfe advance,
And by it selfe each doth a galliard daunce.

Venus, the mother of that bastard Love,
Which doth usurpe the World's great Marshal's name,
Just with the sunne her dainty feete doth move,
And unto him doth all the jestures frame;
Now after, now afore, the flattering Dame,
With divers cunning passages doth erre,
Still him respecting that respects not her.

For that brave Sunne the Father of the Day,
Doth love this Earth, the Mother of the Night;
And like a revellour in rich aray,
Doth daunce his galliard in his lemman's sight,
Both back, and forth, and sidewaies, passing light;
His princely grace doth so the gods amaze,
That all stand still and at his beauty gaze.

But see the Earth, when he approcheth neere,
How she for joy doth spring and sweetly smile;
But see againe her sad and heavy cheere
When changing places he retires a while;
But those blake cloudes he shortly will exile,
And make them all before his presence flye,
As mists consum'd before his cheerefull eye.

Who doth not see the measures of the Moone,
Which thirteene times she daunceth every yeare?
And ends her pavine thirteene times as soone
As doth her brother, of whose golden haire
She borroweth part, and proudly doth it weare;
Then doth she coyly turne her face aside,
Then halfe her cheeke is scarse sometimes discride.

Next her, the pure, subtile, and clensing Fire
Is swiftly carried in a circle even;
Though Vulcan be pronounst by many a lyer,
The only halting god that dwels in heaven:
But that foule name may be more fitly given.
To your false Fire, that farre from heaven is fall:
And doth consume, waste, spoile, disorder all.

And now behold your tender nurse the Ayre
And common neighbour that ay runns around;
How many pictures and impressions faire
Within her empty regions are there found;
Which to your sences Dauncing doe propound.
For what are Breath, Speech, Ecchos, Musicke, Winds,
But Dauncings of the Ayre in sundry kinds?

For when you breath, the ayre in order moves,
Now in, now out, in time and measure trew;
And when you speake, so well she dauncing loves,
That doubling oft, and oft redoubling new,
With thousand formes she doth her selfe endew
For all the words that from our lips repaire
Are nought but tricks and turnings of the ayre.

Hence is her pratling daughter Eccho borne,
That daunces to all voyces she can heare;
There is no sound so harsh that shee doth scorne,
Nor any time wherein shee wil forbeare
The ayrie pavement with her feet to weare;
And yet her hearing sence is nothing quick,
For after time she endeth every trick.

And thou sweet Musicke, Dauncing's onely life,
The eare's sole happinesse, the ayre's best speach;
Loadstone of fellowship, charming-rod of strife,
The soft mind's Paradice, the sicke mind's leach;
With thine own tong, thou trees and stons canst teach,
That when the Aire doth dance her finest measure,
Then art thou borne, the gods and mens sweet pleasure.

Lastly, where keepe the Winds their revelry,
Their violent turnings, and wild whirling hayes,
But in the Ayre's tralucent gallery?
Where shee herselfe is turnd a hundreth wayes,
While with those Maskers wantonly she playes;
Yet in this misrule, they such rule embrace,
As two at once encomber not the place.

If then fire, ayre, wandring and fixed lights
In every province of the imperiall skie,
Yeeld perfect formes of dauncing to your sights,
In vaine I teach the eare, that which the eye
With certaine view already doth descrie.
But for your eyes perceive not all they see,
In this I will your Senses master bee.

For loe the Sea that fleets about the Land,
And like a girdle clips her solide waist,
Musicke and measure both doth understand;
For his great chrystall eye is alwayes cast
Up to the Moone, and on her fixed fast;
And as she daunceth in her pallid spheere,
So daunceth he about his Center heere.

Sometimes his proud greene waves in order set,
One after other flow unto the shore;
Which, when they have with many kisses wet,
They ebbe away in order as before;
And to make knowne his courtly love the more,
He oft doth lay aside his three-forkt mace,
And with his armes the timorous Earth embrace.

Onely the Earth doth stand for ever still:
Her rocks remove not, nor her mountaines meet:
(Although some wits enricht with Learning's skill
Say heav'n stands firme, and that the Earth doth fleet,
And swiftly turneth underneath their feet)
Yet though the Earth is ever stedfast seene,
On her broad breast hath Dauncing ever beene.

For those blew vaines that through her body spred,
Those saphire streames which from great hils do spring.
(The Earth's great duggs; for ever wight is fed
With sweet fresh moisture from them issuing):
Observe a daunce in their wilde wandering;
And still their daunce begets a murmur sweet,
And still the murmur with the duance doth meet.

Of all their wayes I love Maeander's path,
Which to the tunes of dying swans doth daunce;
Such winding sleights, such turns and tricks he hath,
Such creeks, such wrenches, and such daliaunce;
That whether it be hap or heedlesse chaunce,
In this indented course and wriggling play
He seemes to daunce a perfect cunning hay.

But wherefore doe these streames for ever runne?
To keepe themselves for ever sweet and cleere:
For let their everlasting course be donne,
They straight corrupt and foule with mud appeare.
O yee sweet Nymphs that beautie's losse do feare,
Contemne the drugs that Physicke doth devise,
And learne of Love this dainty exercise.

See how those flowres that have sweet beauty too,
(The onely jewels that the Earth doth weare,
When the young Sunne in bravery her doth woo):
As oft as they the whistling wind doe heare,
Doe wave their tender bodies here and there;
And though their daunce no perfect measure is,
Yet oftentimes their musicke makes them kis.

What makes the vine about the elme to daunce,
With turnings, windings, and embracements round?
What makes the loadstone to the North advance
His subtile point, as if from thence he found
His chiefe attractive vertue to redound?
Kind Nature first doth cause all things to love,
Love makes them daunce and in just order move.

Harke how the birds doe sing, and marke then how
Jumpe with the modulation of their layes,
They lightly leape, and skip from bow to bow:
Yet doe the cranes deserve a greater prayse
Which keepe such measure in their ayrie wayes,
As when they all in order ranked are,
They make a perfect forme triangular.

In the chiefe angle flyes the watchfull guid,
And all the followers their heads doe lay
On their foregoers backs, on eyther side;
But for the captaine hath no rest to stay,
His head forewearied with the windy way,
He back retires, and then the next behind,
As his lieuetenaunt leads them through the wind.

But why relate I every singular?
Since all the World's great fortunes and affaires
Forward and backward rapt and whirled are,
According to the musicke of the spheares:
And Chaunge herselfe her nimble feete upbeares
On a round slippery wheele that rowleth ay,
And turnes all States with her impervous sway.

Learne then to daunce, you that are Princes borne,
And lawfull lords of earthly creatures all;
Imitate them, and thereof take no scorne,
For this new art to them is naturall--
And imitate the starres coelestiall:
For when pale Death your vital twist shall sever,
Your better parts must daunce, with them for ever.

Thus Love perswades, and all the crowd of men
That stands around, doth makes a murmuring;
As when the wind loosd from his hollow den,
Among the trees a gentle base doth sing,
Or as a brooke through peebles wandering;
But in their looks they uttered this plain speach,
That they would learn to daunce, if Love would teach.

Then first of all he doth demonstrate plaine
The motions seaven that ar in Nature found,
Upward and downeward, forth and backe againe,
To this side and to that, and turning round;
Whereof a thousand brawles he doth compound,
Which he doth teach unto the multitude,
And ever with a turne they must conclude.

As when a Nimph arysing from the land,
Leadeth a daunce with her long watery traine
Down to the Sea; she wries to every hand,
And every way doth crosse the fertile plaine;
But when at last shee falls into the maine,
Then all her traverses concluded are,
And with the Sea her course is circulare.

Thus when at first Love had them marshalled,
At earst he did the shapeless masse of things,
He taught them rounds and winding heyes to tread,
And about trees to cast themselves in rings:
As the two Beares, whom the First Mover flings
With a short turn about heaven's axeltree,
In a round daunce for ever wheeling bee.

But after these, as men more civell grew,
He did more grave and solemn measures frame,
With such faire order and proportion true,
And correspondence every way the same,
That no fault-finding eye did ever blame;
For every eye was moved at the sight
With sober wondring, and with sweet delight.