Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE CUPULO, by JAMES WRIGHT (1643-1713)


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

THE CUPULO, by                    
First Line: Westward from fair augusta's city, lies
Last Line: And many copper-smiths will do thee right.
Subject(s): St. Paul's Cathedral, London


Westward from fair Augusta's City, lies
A Fabrick, that detains the nicest Eyes;
Fills ev'ry Soul with Wonder, as it stands,
To shew the Workmanship of Gothick Hands;
To tempt our Notice, and to fix our Sight,
With its amazing Structure, and its Height.
Here Kings of Old their just Oblations pay'd,
And where they first were crown'd, they daily pray'd;
Tho' since, new Customs have been introduc'd,
While Closets are for their Cathedrals us'd;
And none but once approach the sacred Dome,
'Till where they took their Crown, they take their Tomb.

Near it, contiguous to a spacious Hall,
Where Laws are silent, tho' the Lawyers bawl,
There stands a Dome, that wears St. Stephen's Name,
Great in its Looks, but Greater in its Fame:
Tho' the fam'd Martyr's Chappel has been stain'd
By Rivulets of Blood from Martyrs drein'd,
In factious Times, when Usurpation reign'd;
When Rebels kept their Sovereign in Awe,
By making Laws to supercede the Law;
When Courts of Justice dar'd Injustice own;
False to their God, and treach'rous to the Throne.
As Loyalty the sacred Mansion fled,
And Anarchy let loose, around it spread.

Such was the goodly Pile in Charles his Days;
Such its perfidious Tenants Means and Ways;
Still to be mourn'd as long as Time shall last,
And Years to come, deduce a yearly Fast.
When such as Eyres, whose Elegance of Stile,
Might Regicides to milder Thoughts beguile;
Might Cruelty subdue, and Faction tame,
And made some give their Thanks, that came to blame;
Shall from the Pulpit, with intrepid Tongue,
Proclaim the Subjects Guilt, and Sov'reign's Wrong.

Not but their Successors have other Thoughts,
And nobly fill their Seats, to shun their Faults;
To give fresh Lustre to the sacred Place;
Since Matters now put on a better Face,
And under God-like ANNA'S gentle Sway;
'Tis almost more than Empire, to obey.
Service is more than Freedom, in a Land
Where those live most uneasy, that command.

'Twas here Great Britain's first Assembly met;
Not as of Old, to run the State in Debt;
To make Deficiencies of Funds appear,
Or bring us ev'ry Winter in Arrear.
Much nobler Projects urg'd their wise Debates:
How to secure and save insulted States;
How to keep Europe's Interest in their View;
Just to themselves, and to their Neighbours true.
Alliances they form'd, and Troops they pay'd,
Timely to give an injur'd Monarch Aid:
To succour Germany, and rescue Spain
From a French Yoke, and base inglorious Chain.

Amidst the various Objects of their Zeal
For Europe's Safety, and for Britain's Weal,
Nothing their Consultations more employ'd,
Than ruin'd Temples, and than Fanes destroy'd:
Tho' some their Ignorance and Malice vent,
By calling it a Low-Church Parliament.
Far be the vile Distinction banish'd hence;
Plain Contradiction in a litt'ral Sense;
Since who is Master of his Wits, must own
Low-Flyers hate the Church, and are for none.
Meer Insects, that, like Maggots in a Shell,
Who work thro' Tenements wherein they dwell,
Haunt Churches, only Churches to betray,
As Wolves that seek Enclosures, but for Prey.

Long had St. Paul look'd downward from the Sky,
To see his fav'rite Pile unfinish'd lie;
And ev'n in fair Augusta's Bosom plac'd,
Its Altars unrebuilt, its Shrines defac'd.
As thrice three Lustres had their Circle run,
Before his Temple seem'd but just begun;
Yet Funds were fix'd, and Legacies were found,
To raise its drooping Glories from the Ground;
And Patriots, with Alacrity of Soul,
Voted what fell by FIRE, should rise by COAL.

When glorious ANNA'S Golden Age appear'd,
And up the sacred Pile its Turrets rear'd;
Nor longer could its high Ascent refrain,
But rose like Carthage under Dido's Reign;
Huge massy Pillars groan'd beneath its Weight;
At once a House of Pray'r, and House of State.
Within all Beauty, and without all Grace;
The Furniture proportion'd to the Case.
Here the Corinthian Order was display'd,
And there the Dorick on that Order lay'd;
While, to support them both, the Gothick stood
For Age renown'd, tho' obsolete and rude.
Jointly they pleas'd the most observant View,
Which neither of them could distinctly do.
Thus Unisons, in Musick's sacred Art,
No Pleasure to the list'ning Ear impart;
But when the Treble, Tenor, and the Base,
Are mix'd, and each supplies its proper Place,
Discordant Strings their sev'ral Voices join,
And Disagreement makes their Sound divine.

The BASS-RELIEVE, without such Rev'rence cast,
As ev'n its inward Ornaments surpass'd,
And Imag'ry display'd, so justly wrought,
That shew'd an Excellence of Hand and Thought.
Not Attick Sculptures could more lively seem,
Or more engross our Wonder and Esteem,
Since wond'rous was its Work, as wond'rous was its Theme:
Whether the learn'd Apostle preaching stood,
To teach Ephesians Truths himself persu'd;
Or from his Horse, all prostrate on the Ground,
Heard, with Amazement, the converting Sound,
That cry'd, Saul, Saul, why persecut'st thou me?
His Soul enlighten'd, tho' he could not see.

Here, all Attention was his Audience form'd,
Ravish'd with Pleasure, and Devotion warm'd:
There, was Confusion and Repentance shewn,
And ev'n Self-consciousness appear'd in Stone,
Which vocally, like Memnon's Statue, spoke
Submission to that God that gave the Stroke,
While ev'n the Beast, on which he rid, confess'd
A Sense of Horror, not to be express'd.
So Phidias, with inimitable Art,
Motion to lifeless Figures could impart;
And so Praxiteles his Skill convey'd
Speech almost to the Statues which he made.

Just in the Centre of the lofty Dome,
Arose what conquers Italy and Rome;
Lessens the Wonders are St. Peter's boast,
Superior in Design, as well as Cost:
Of Mountain Bulk, and of stupendous Size,
Its Eminence aspiring to the Skies:
Of Height sufficient amidst Stars to shine,
Like Tenariff on this side of the Line,
Which its moist Head in aery Regions shrouds,
And dips its rising Summit in the Clouds.

What Art could do, or Industry invent,
Upon this Master-piece of Art was spent;
Ineffable its Circuit and Extent.
And as by Rules Vitruvian we must go,
This Structure's to be stil'd, A CUPULO;
Which Nom de Guerre, may serve it for a Name,
Tho' Cupulo's and Steeples are the same.

The Masons and the Carpenters had done,
And almost ev'ry Trade, what each begun,
As ev'ry Part compleatly finish'd stood,
Except its aery Top, then cloath'd with Wood;
Which made 'em to the Senate-House apply,
To know what it should wear so near the Sky;
Since Boreas in those Parts was very bold,
And that thin Atmosphere was very cold.

They, for their Parts, did all that Men could do,
To save Cathedrals, and their Steeples too;
Voted, without Reserve, to make it fine,
And amidst other Orbs of Light to shine;
That Solunarian Worlds, which round us run,
Might gaze, and take it for another Sun.
Ev'n KIRK resolv'd, that since the Dome was built,
It ought in Conscience to be double Gilt:
But what to cloath it with, remain'd a Doubt,
By which to keep cold Winter's Weather out.

Silver, they plainly saw, was very dear,
And knew, that Gold was not superfluous here:
Wherefore, some native Min'ral they'd explore,
Without th' Expences of a foreign Oar.

Some were for having their Opinion pass,
And humbly mov'd, the Cov'ring might be BRASS,
Because it was demonstratively true,
Brass was a Min'ral would be miss'd by few.

The Mine-Adventurers their Judgment gave,
Asserting, that their LEAD would Charges save.
To which, by way of Answer, was reply'd,
The Virtues of their LEAD had oft been try'd;
And 'twas a Sign their Shares were like to rise,
When they expos'd an Oar at such a Price;
That was, as often has been told in Print,
To be refin'd for Coynage in the Mint.
Besides, tho' they should sell that Min'ral cheap,
Lead was a sure Provocative of Sleep;
Since Morpheus not improperly is said
To keep his Residence in Mines of Lead,
And many an Alderman, that makes a Stir,
With Sherriffs, who have cough'd at Church in Fur;
As well as Mayors, that make a mighty Do
To get Precedency of Stall or Pew,
Have slept and nodded Afternoons entire,
Since LEAD was made the Cov'ring to the Choir.

Sir -----, at this, was mightily concern'd,
That one so deeply read, profoundly learn'd,
Who for the Church's Good had drawn his Quill,
And Casuistically shewn his Skill,
Should be deny'd in such a righteous Suit,
Unworthy of a Man of his Repute:
One that had done such Wonders for the Cause,
And for the Gospel's Sake laid down the laws;
To be refus'd a Post for which he bid,
And Pinnacles not cloath on which he rid.
He'd place this Grievance to the Nation's Score,
When next he brought in Bills to starve the POOR.

When C --- sh M --- rs brought their Verdict in,
That Lanthorns always should be made of TIN.
And this was nothing else, for all its Height,
But a huge LANTHORN, to let in the Light.
Tho' what they offer'd, would not stand the Test,
And they made fruitless Motions, like the rest.

At last an Advocate for COPPER, rose,
Born in a Clime where British Copper grows;
And full of Argument, produc'd his Plea,
Which terminated in a joint Decree,
That since that Min'ral did Convenience suit,
COPPER should be the CUPULO'S Surtoot.

Hail, Saint! thy Breast of Anger now disarm;
What if one COPPER-SMITH has done thee Harm?
Thy Grievances that Function will requite,
And many COPPER-SMITHS will do thee Right.





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