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Sir John Denham (1615-1669)

Cooper's Hill (1642)
First Version


              1Sure we have poets that did never dream
              2Upon Parnassus, nor did taste the stream
              3Of Helicon, and therefore I suppose
              4Those made not poets, but the poets those.
              5And as Courts make not Kings, but Kings the Court,
              6So where the Muses and their troops resort,
              7Parnassus stands, if I can be to thee
              8A poet, thou Parnassus art to me.
              9Nor wonder, if (advantag’d in my flight,
            10By taking wing from thy auspicious height)
            11Through untrac’d ways and airy paths I fly,
            12More boundless in my fancy than my eye.
            13Exalted to this height, I first look down
            14On Paul’s, as men from thence upon the town.
            15Paul’s, the late theme of such a muse whose flight
            16Has bravely reach’d and soar’d above thy height:
            17Now shalt thou stand, though time, or sword, or fire,
            18Or zeal (more fierce than they) thy fall conspire,
            19Secure, whilst thee the best of poets sings,
            20Preserv’d from ruin by the best of kings.
            21As those who rais’d in body, or in thought
            22Above the earth, or the air’s middle vault,
            23Behold how winds, and storms and meteors grow,
            24How clouds condense to rain, congeal to snow,
            25And see the thunder form’d, before it tear
            26The air, secure from danger and from fear,
            27So rais’d above the tumult and the crowd
            28I see the city, in a thicker cloud
            29Of business, than of smoke, where men like ants
            30Toil to prevent imaginary wants;
            31Yet all in vain, increasing with their store,
            32Their vast desires, but make their wants the more.
            33As food to unsound bodies, though it please
            34The appetite, feeds only the disease.
            35Where, with like haste, though several ways they run,
            36Some to undo, and some to be undone;
            37While luxury, and wealth, like war and peace,
            38Are each the other’s ruin, and increase;
            39As rivers lost in seas, some secret vein
            40Thence reconveys, there to be lost again.
            41Some study plots, and some those plots t’ undo,
            42Others to make ’em, and undo ’em too,
            43False to their hopes, afraid to be secure,
            44Those mischiefs only which they make, endure,
            45Blinded with light, and sick of being well,
            46In tumults seek their peace, their Heaven in Hell.
            47Oh happiness of sweet retir’d content!
            48To be at once secure, and innocent.
            49     Windsor the next (where Mars with Venus dwells,
            50Beauty with strength) above the valley swells
            51Into my eye, as the late married dame
            52(Who proud, yet seems to make that pride her shame)
            53When nature quickens in her pregnant womb
            54Her wishes past, and now her hopes to come:
            55With such an easy, and unforc’d ascent,
            56Windsor her gentle bosom doth present;
            57Where no stupendious cliff, no threat’ning heights
            58Access deny, no horrid steep affrights,
            59But such a rise, as doth at once invite
            60A pleasure, and a reverence from the sight.
            61Thy master’s emblem, in whose face I saw
            62A friend-like sweetness, and a king-like awe,
            63Where majesty, and love so mix’d appear,
            64Both gently kind, both royally severe.
            65So Windsor, humble in itself, seems proud,
            66To be the base of that majestic load,
            67Than which no hill a nobler burden bears,
            68But Atlas only, that supports the spheres.
            69Nature this mount so fitly did advance,
            70We might conclude, that nothing is by chance
            71So plac’d, as if she did on purpose raise
            72The hill, to rob the builder of his praise.
            73For none commends his judgment, that doth choose
            74That which a blind man only could refuse;
            75Such are the towers which th’ hoary temples grac’d
            76Of Cybele, when all her heavenly race
            77Do homage to her, yet she cannot boast
            78Amongst that numerous, and celestial host
            79More heroes than can Windsor, nor doth fame’s
            80Immortal book record more noble names.
            81Nor to look back so far, to whom this isle
            82Must owe the glory of so brave a pile,
            83Whether to Caesar, Albanact, or Brute,
            84The British Arthur, or the Danish Knute,
            85(Though this of old no less contest did move,
            86Than when for Homer’s birth seven cities strove)
            87(Like him in birth, thou should’st be like in fame,
            88As thine his fate, if mine had been his flame)
            89But whosoe’er it was, nature design’d
            90First a brave place, and then as brave a mind.
            91No to recount those several kings, to whom
            92It gave a cradle, or to whom a tomb,
            93But thee (great Edward) and thy greater son,
            94He that the lilies wore, and he that won,
            95And thy Bellona who deserves her share
            96In all thy glories, of that royal pair
            97Which waited on thy triumph, she brought one.
            98Thy son the other brought, and she that son
            99Nor of less hopes could her great off-spring prove;
          100A royal eagle cannot breed a dove.

          101    Then didst thou found that order, whether love
          102Or victory thy royal thoughts did move,
          103Each was a noble cause, nor was it less
          104I’ th’ institution, than the great success
          105Whilst every part conspires to give it grace,
          106The King, the cause, the patron, and the place,
          107Which foreign kings, and emperors esteem
          108The second honour to their diadem.

          109    Had thy great destiny but giv’n thee skill,
          110To know as well, as power to act her will,
          111That from those kings, who then thy captives were,
          112In after-times should spring a royal pair
          113Who should possess all that thy mighty power,
          114Or thy desires more mighty, did devour;
          115To whom their better fate reserves whate’er
          116The victor hopes for, or the vanquish’d fear;
          117That blood, which thou and thy great grandsire shed,
          118And all that since these sister nations bled,
          119Had been unspilt, had happy Edward known
          120That all the blood he spill’d, had been his own,
          121Thou hadst extended through the conquer’d East,
          122Thine, and the Christian name, and made them blest
          123To serve thee, while that loss this gain would bring,
          124Christ for their God, and Edward for their king;
          125When thou that saint thy patron didst design,
          126In whom the martyr and the soldier join;
          127And when thou didst with the azure round,
          128(Who evil thinks may evil him confound)
          129The English arms encircle, thou didst seem
          130But to foretell, and prophesy of him
          131Who has within that azure round confin’d
          132These realms, which nature for their bound design’d,
          133That bound, which to the world’s extremest ends,
          134Endless herself, her liquid arms extends;
          135In whose heroic face I see the saint
          136Better express’d than in the liveliest paint,
          137That fortitude, which made him famous here,
          138That heavenly piety, which saints him there.
          139Who when this order he forsakes, may he
          140Companion of that sacred order be.
          141Here could I fix my wonder, but our eyes,
          142Nice as our tastes, affect varieties;
          143And though one please him most, the hungry guest
          144Tastes every dish, and runs through all the feast;

          145    So having tasted Windsor, casting round
          146My wandering eye, an emulous hill doth bound
          147My more contracted sight, whose top of late
          148A chapel crown’d, till in the common fate,
          149Th’adjoining abbey fell: (may no such storm
          150Fall on our times, where ruin must reform)
          151Tell me, (my muse) what monstrous dire offence,
          152What crime could any Christian king incense
          153To such a rage? Was ’t luxury, or lust?
          154Was he so temperate, so chaste, so just?
          155Were these their crimes? they were his own, much more;
          156But they (alas) were rich, and he was poor;
          157And having spent the treasures of his crown,
          158Condemns their luxury to feed his own;
          159And yet this act, to varnish o’er the shame
          160Of sacrilege, must bear devotion’s name.
          161And he might think it just, the cause and time
          162Considered well, for none commits a crime
          163Appearing such, but as ’tis understood,
          164A real, or at least a seeming good.
          165While for the Church his learned pen disputes
          166His much more learned sword his pen confutes,
          167Thus to the ages past he makes amends,
          168Their charity destroys, their faith defends.
          169Then did religion in a lazy cell,
          170In empty, airy contemplation dwell;
          171And like the block unmoved lay: but ours,
          172As much too active like the stork devours.
          173Is there no temperate region can be known.
          174Betwixt their frigid, and our torrid zone?
          175Could we not wake from that lethargic dream,
          176But to be restless in a worse extreme?
          177And for that lethargy was there no cure,
          178But to be cast into a calenture?
          179Can knowledge have no bound, but must advance
          180So far, to make us wish for ignorance?
          181And rather in the dark to grope our way,
          182Than led by a false guide to err by day?

          183    Parting from thence ’twixt anger, shame and fear,
          184Those for what’s past, and this for what’s too near:
          185My eye descending from the hill, surveys
          186Where Thames among the wanton valleys strays.
          187Thames, the most lov’d of all the ocean’s sons,
          188By his old sire to his embraces runs,
          189Hasting to pay his tribute to the sea,
          190Like mortal life to meet eternity.
          191And though his clearer sand, no golden veins,
          192Like Tagus and Pactolus streams, contains
          193His genuine, and less guilty wealth t’ explore,
          194Search not his bottom, but survey his shore;
          195O’er which he kindly spreads his spacious wing
          196And hatches plenty for th’ ensuing spring.
          197Nor with a furious, and unruly wave,
          198Like profuse kings, resumes the wealth he gave,
          199No unexpected inundations spoil
          200The mower’s hopes, nor mock the ploughman’s toil;
          201Then like a lover he forsakes his shores,
          202Whose stay with jealous eyes his spouse implores;
          203Till with a parting kiss he saves her tears,
          204And promising return, secures her fears;
          205As a wise king first settles fruitful peace
          206In his own realms, and with their rich increase,
          207Seeks wars abroad, and in triumph brings
          208The spoils of kingdoms, and the crowns of kings.
          209So Thames to London doth at first present
          210Those tributes, which neighbouring counties sent,
          211But as his second visit from the east,
          212Spices he brings, and treasures from the west.
          213Finds wealth where ’tis, bestows it where it wants,
          214Cities in deserts, woods in cities plants.
          215Rounds the whole globe, and with his flying towers
          216Brings home to us, and makes both Indies ours;
          217So that to us no thing, no place is strange
          218While thy fair bosom is the world’s exchange:
          219O could my verse freely and smoothly flow,
          220As thy pure flood, Heaven should no longer know
          221Her old Eridanus; thy purer stream
          222Should bathe the gods and be the poets’ theme.

          223    Here nature, whether more intent to please
          224Us or herself, with strange varieties,
          225(For things of wonder more, no less delight
          226To the wise maker’s, than beholders’ sight.
          227Though these delights from several causes move;
          228For so our children, thus our friends we love)
          229Wisely she knew the harmony of things,
          230As well as that of sounds, from discords springs.
          231Such was the discord, which did first disperse
          232Form, order, beauty through the universe;
          233While dryness moisture, coldness heat resists,
          234All that we have, and that we are, subsists.
          235While the steep horrid roughness of the wood
          236Strives with the gentle calmness of the flood.
          237Such huge extremes, when Nature doth unite,
          238Wonder from thence results, from thence delight.
          239The stream is so transparent, pure, and clear,
          240That had the self-enamour’d youth gaz’d here,
          241So fatally deceiv’d he had not been,
          242While he the bottom, not his face had seen.
          243And such the roughness of the hill, on which
          244Diana her toils, and Mars his tents might pitch
          245And as our surly supercilious lords,
          246Big in their frowns, and haughty in their words,
          247Look down on those, whose humble fruitful pain
          248Their proud, and barren greatness must sustain:
          249So looks the hill upon the stream; between
          250There lies a spacious, and a fertile green,
          251Where from the woods, the Dryades oft meet
          252Thy Nyades, and with their nimble feet,
          253Soft dances lead, although their airy shape
          254All but a quick poetic sight escape.
          255There Faunus and Silvanus keep their courts;
          256And thither all the horrid host resorts
          257(When like the elixir, with his evening beams,
          258The sun has turn’d to gold the silver streams)
          259To graze the ranker mead, that noble herd,
          260On whose sublime and shady fronts is rear’d
          261Nature’s great master-piece; to show how soon
          262Great things are made, but sooner much undone.
          263Here have I seen our Charles, when great affairs
          264Give leave to slacken, and unbend his cares,
          265Chasing the royal stag, the gallant beast,
          266Rous’d with the noise, ’twist hope and fear distress’d,
          267Resolves ’tis better to avoid, than meet
          268His danger, trusting to his winged feet:
          269But when he sees the dogs, now by the view,
          270Now by the scent, his speed with speed pursue,
          271He tries his friends, amongst the lesser herd,
          272Where he but lately was obey’d, and fear’d,
          273Safety he seeks: the herd, unkindly wise,
          274Or chases him from thence, or from him flies.
          275Like a declining statesman, left forlorn
          276To his friends’ pity, and pursuers’ scorn.

          277    Wearied, forsaken, and pursu’d, at last
          278All safety in despair of safety plac’d,
          279Courage he thence assumes, resolv’d to bear
          280All their assaults, since 'tis in vain to fear.
          281But when he sees the eager chase renew’d,
          282Himself by dogs, the dogs by men pursu’d.
          283When neither speed, nor art, nor friends, nor force
          284Could help him towards the stream he bends his course
          285Hoping those lesser beasts would not assay
          286An element more merciless than they.
          287But fearless they pursue, nor can the flood
          288Quench their dire thirst (alas) they thirst for blood.
          289As some brave hero, whom his baser foes
          290In troops surround, now these assail, now those,
          291Though prodigal of life, disdains to die
          292By vulgar hands; but if he can descry
          293Some nobler foes approach, to him he calls
          294And begs his fate, and then contented falls:
          295So the tall stag amidst the lesser hounds,
          296Repels their force, and wounds returns for wounds.
          297Till Charles from his unerring hand lets fly
          298A mortal shaft, then glad, and proud to die
          299By such a wound he falls, the crystal flood
          300Dying he dies, and purples with his blood.

          301    This a more innocent, and happy chase,
          302Than when of old, but in the selfsame place,
          303Fair liberty pursu’d, and meant a prey
          304To tyranny, here turn’d, and stood at bay.
          305When in that remedy all hope was plac’d
          306Which was, or should have been at least the last;
          307For armed subjects can have no pretence
          308Against their princes, but their just defence,
          309And whether then, or no, I leave to them
          310To justify, who else themselves condemn:
          311Yet might the fact be just, if we may guess
          312The justness of an action from success.

          313     Here was that charter seal’d, wherein the Crown
          314All marks of arbitrary power lays down:
          315Tyrant and slave, those names of hate and fear,
          316The happier style of king and subject bear:
          317Happy, when both to the same centre move,
          318When kings give liberty, and subjects love.
          319Therefore not long in force this charter stood;
          320Wanting that seal, it must be seal’d in blood.
          321The subjects arm’d, the more their princes gave,
          322But this advantage took, the more to crave:
          323Till kings by giving, give themselves away.
          324And even that power, that should deny, betray.
          325“Who gives constrain’d, but his own fear reviles
          326Nor thank’d, but scorn’d; nor are they gifts, but spoils.”
          327And they, whom no denial can withstand,
          328Seem but to ask, while thy indeed command.
          329Thus all to limit royalty conspire,
          330While each forgets to limit his desire
          331Till kings like old Antaeus by their fall,
          332Being forc’d, their courage from despair recall.

          333    When a calm river rais’d with sudden rains,
          334Or snows dissolv’d o’erflows the’ adjoining plains,
          335The husbandmen with high-rais’d banks secure
          336Their greedy hopes, and this he can endure.
          337But if with bays and dams they strive to force
          338His channel to a new, or narrow course
          339No longer then within his banks he dwells,
          340First to a torrent, then a deluge swells:
          341Stronger and fiercer by restraint he roars,
          342And knows no bound, but makes his power his shores.
          343Thus kings by grasping more than they can hold,
          344First made their subjects by oppressions bold,
          345And popular sway by forcing kings to give
          346More, than was fit for subjects to receive,
          347Ran to the same extreme, and one excess
          348Made both by striving to be greater, less.
          349Nor any way, but seeking to have more
          350Makes either lose what each possess’d before.
          351Therefore their boundless power till princes draw
          352Within the channel, and the shores of law,
          353And may the law, which teaches kings to sway
          354Their sceptres, teach their subjects to obey.

Notes

1] The first version of "Cooper’s Hill" was first published in 1642. John Denham (1615-69) inherited from his father, a notable judge, an estate at Egham in Surrey, and this location provides the poem with its organization. The speaker stands on the top of Cooper’s Hill, which, like the nearby St. Anne’s Hill, overlooks the extensive water-meadows known as Egham Mead, through which the river Thames flows on its way to London and the sea. Facing first to the east, he describes and reflects on distant London; turning north-west he describes and reflects on Windsor and its castle (a few miles away); looking down on the river and the meadow beneath the hill he describes a stag hunt and reflects on the relations between kings and subjects. As the poem moves from the distant to the near in topographical terms, it moves from indirect to direct commentary on the political situation as it appeared on the eve of the Civil War. The underlying idea of the poem, scenically and politically, is expressed in lines 223-39: it is the conflict between opposing principles that produces an equilibrium of forces; harmony is only possible because disharmony exists. Allied to this is a concept of reciprocity, announced in the opening lines of the poem; reciprocity implies mutual interdependence, reified in the law that should govern the relationship of the king to his subjects.

2] Parnassus: a high mountain in Greece, sacred to the Muses, and suited to meditation.

3] Helicon: another Greek mountain sacred to the Muses, notable for the spring called Hippocrene.

14] Paul’s: St. Paul’s Cathedral in the city of London. This is the old medieval cathedral, which had been restored and partially rebuilt with some assistance from Charles I. It was to be destroyed in the Great Fire of London, 1666.

15] such a muse: the renovation of St. Paul’s, undertaken in the 1630s, had been celebrated by Edmund Waller in his poem “Upon His Majesty’s Repairing of Paul’s.”

23] meteors grow: meteors were supposed to be exhalations from the earth (hence “meteorology” for the science of the weather).

49] Windsor: on a rise overlooking the Thames stands the royal palace of Windsor Castle; the “majestic load” of l. 65.

57] stupendious: early form of "stupendous."

61] thy master’s: Charles I.

68] Atlas: the mountain in North Africa. Atlas, a Titan, king of Mauritania, was a keen astronomer; when Perseus showed him the head of the gorgon Medusa he was turned into the mountain, which was supposed to support the heavenly spheres of the old astronomy.

76] Cybele: wife of Saturn, and mother of the gods of the Greco-Roman pantheon. Some representations of her depict her wearing a tower as a headdress.

83] Various stories attributed the foundation of Windsor Castle to Julius Caesar in 55 BC; to Brut, the legendary Trojan who left the Trojan settlement in Italy to settle in Britain and give it its name; to Albanact, his equally legendary son who became king of Scotland; to King Arthur of the Round Table, and to the Danish king of England, Knut or Canute (1016-35).

86] Homer: the fact that seven cities claimed to be his birthplace was taken as an index of Homer’s greatness as a poet.

93] Edward: Edward III (1327-77) and his son, also Edward, known as the Black Prince (died 1376).

94] lilies: the heraldic lilies of the French monarchy, claimed by Edward III and worn in his standard, won by his son the Black Prince, especially at the battle of Poitiers. The contrast is rather false; as the victor in the battle of Crécy (1346) Edward III had shown his own martial ability.

95] Bellona: Edward III’s consort, Queen Philippa, credited with the victory of the Scots at Neville’s Cross in 1346 when her husband and son were campaigning in France. As a result of this victory, the Scots king, David II, was held a prisoner in England.

98] Thy son the other brought: Edward, the Black Prince, captured Jean II of France at the battle of Poitiers, 1356.

112] a royal pair: Charles I, of the Scottish house of Stuart, and his Queen, the French princess Henrietta Maria.

117] thy great grandsire: Edward I, grandfather of Edward III, known as the “hammer of the Scots.”

125] that saint: St. George, a Christian soldier from Asia Minor, finally a martyr under the persecution of Diocletian. Soldiers returning from the Crusades brought his cult to England, and Edward III adopted him as the patron saint of England, replacing St. Edmund, and dedicated the chapel at Windsor Castle to him, making this the seat of the Order of the Garter (1348-9).

127] The star of the Order shows the shield of St. George, a red cross on white ground, surrounded by a blue garter, inscribed with the motto “Honi soit quy mal y pense.”

129] Charles I, who as king of both Scotland and England (in which Denham includes Wales) unites the island of Great Britain, surrounded by blue sea.

142] affect: desire.

146] an emulous hill: St. Anne’s Hill, not far from Cooper’s Hill.

149] th’ adjoining abbey: Chertsey Abbey, a Benedictine monastery.

152] Christian king: Henry VIII, who dissolved the monasteries and seized their property between 1536 and 1539.

165] his learned pen: in 1521 Henry VIII published a Latin tract defending the seven sacraments against the attack of Martin Luther. The Pope thereupon gave him the title Fidei Defensor, “Defender of the Faith.”

171] block: a reference to Aesop’s fable of the frogs who, rejecting the rule of a block of wood, were granted instead a stork for sovereign, that ate them up.

178] calenture: “a distemper peculiar to sailors in hot climates: wherein they imagine the sea to be green fields, and will throw themselves into it, if not restrained” (Johnson’s Dictionary, 1755).

192] Tagus and Pactolus: rivers celebrated for their sands of gold by classical poets.

200] mower: the labourer with a scythe, who reaps the harvest.

212] both Indies: the East Indies, associated with spices, and the West Indies, associated with gold (l. 212).

221] Eridanus: The classical name for the river Po in Italy, celebrated by Virgil as the king of rivers.

240] the self-enamour’d youth: Narcissus, who fell in love with his own reflection in a still pool of water, not the moving water of a river.

244] toils: nets for catching beasts, accoutrements of Diana the huntress.

251] Dryades: nymphs or sprites of the woodlands, as naiads are river-nymphs.

255] Faunus and Silvanus: rural gods of Italy.

256] horrid: shaggy. Since the animals are deer, this may be an error for “horned,” as in the corresponding line in the second version.

257] elixir: the philosopher’s stone, the substance capable of turning all metals to gold, as the alchemists believed.

275] declining statesman: a minister of state whose power is waning. This simile encourages the reader to interpret the pursuit and death of the stag as an allegory of the trial and death of Lord Strafford in 1641; when his enemies in Parliament, unable to convict him of crimes, passed a bill of attainder that declared him a traitor; he wrote to Charles I, urging him to sign the bill into law (thus ensuring his own execution), for the sake of peace between the King and his subjects.

302] the self-same place: Runny Mead, or Runnymede, is a part of the larger Egham Mead which lies below Cooper’s Hill. Here in 1215 the barons compelled King John to accept the Magna Carta, or Great Charter. However, as Denham, notes, this positive achievement of concord out of discord did not bring an end to the struggle between kings and subjects.

320] that seal: the matching contributions of liberty and love that Denham has just described.

326] the quotation marks may be simply a way of drawing attention to this summation of what has been said; if the lines are a quotation, it has not been identified.

331] Antaeus: a giant, son of Terra, the earth, and Neptune, god of the sea. When he wrestled with Hercules, he gained new strength from his mother every time he was thrown to the ground.

337] bays: embankments ("bogs" in original text).


Online text copyright © 2009, Ian Lancashire (the Department of English) and the University of Toronto.
Published by the Web Development Group, Information Technology Services, University of Toronto Libraries.

Original text: John Denham, Coopers Hill. A Poeme. The Second Edition with Additions (London: Humphrey Moseley, 1650). University of Toronto Library B-11 03457
First publication date: 1642
RPO poem editor: John D. Baird
RP edition: 2007
Recent editing: 1:2007/8/16*1:2007/8/18

Form: heroic couplets


Other poems by Sir John Denham