Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, EPISTLE TO JAMES MOMTAGUE, LORD BISHOP OF WINCHESTER, by SAMUEL DANIEL


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

EPISTLE TO JAMES MOMTAGUE, LORD BISHOP OF WINCHESTER, by                 Poet Analysis     Poet's Biography
First Line: Although you have out of your proper store
Last Line: Than when they are esteemed and loved best?
Subject(s): Hearts; Mankind; Montague, James (1568-1618); Religion; Sickness; Human Race; Theology; Illness


Although you have out of your proper store
The best munition that may fortify
A noble heart, as no man may have more,
Against the batt'ries of mortality,
Yet, rev'rend lord, vouchsafe me leave to bring
One weapon more unto your furnishment;
That you th' assaults of this close, vanquishing,
And secret wasting sickness may prevent;
For that myself have struggled with it too,
And know the worst of all that it can do.
And let me tell you this: you never could
Have found a gentler warring enemy,
And one that with more fair proceeding would
Encounter you without extremity,
Nor give more time to make resistances,
And to repair your breaches, than will this.
For whereas other sicknesses surprise
Our spirits, at unawares disweap'ning suddenly
All sense of understanding, in such wise
As that they lay us dead before we die,
Or fire us out of our inflamed fort
With raving frenzies in a fearful sort,
This comes and steals us by degrees away,
And yet not that without our privity.
They rap us hence, as vultures do their prey,
Confounding us with tortures instantly.
This fairly kills, they foully murder us,
Trip up our heels before we can discern;
This gives us time of treaty to discuss
Our suff'ring, and the cause thereof to learn.
Besides, therewith we oftentimes have truce
For many months, sometimes for many years,
And are permitted to enjoy the use
Of study, and although our body wears,
Our wit remains; our speech, our memory
Fail not, or come before ourselves to die.
We part together, and we take our leave
Of friends, of kindred; we dispose our state,
And yield up fairly what we did receive,
And all our businesses accommodate;
So that we cannot say we were thrust out,
But we depart from hence in quiet sort;
The foe with whom we have the battle fought
Hath not subdued us, but got our fort.
And this disease is held most incident
To the best natures and most innocent.
And therefore, rev'rend lord, there cannot be
A gentler passage than there is hereby,
Unto that port wherein we shall be free
From all the storms of worldly misery.
And though it show us daily in our glass
Our fading leaf turned to a yellow hue,
And how it withers as the sap doth pass,
And what we may expect is to ensue;
Yet that I know disquiets not your mind,
Who knows the brittle mettle of mankind,
And have all comforts virtue can beget,
And most the conscience of well acted days;
Which all those monuments which you have set
On holy ground to your perpetual praise
As things best set, must ever testify,
And show the worth of noble Montague.
And so long as the walls of piety
Stand, so long shall stand the memory of you;
And Bath and Wells, and Winchester, shall show
Their fair repairs to all posterity;
And how much blessed and fortunate they were
That ever gracious hand did plant you there.
Besides, you have not only built up walls
But also (worthier edifices) men;
By whom you shall have the memorials
And everlasting honor of the pen,
That whensoever you shall come to make
Your exit from this scene wherein you have
Performed so noble parts, you then shall take
Your leave with honor, have a glorious grave.
For when can men go better to their rest
Than when they are esteemed and loved best?





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