Complaint of Thames, 1647 | Amplified Edition

Late in an evening as I walked alone,
I heard the Thames most sadly make her moan.
As she came weeping from her western spring2
,
She3
 thus bewailed the learned shepherds’ king:
Amintas, sad Amintas, sits forlorn,
And his fair Chloris4
 now’s become the scorn
Of Troynovant5
’s ingrate, licentious dames6
.
No marvel, then, if poor afflicted Thames
With salt abortive tears does wash this city,
As full of blood and lies as void of pity.
Perfidious7
 town, know thou the power of fate.
Thy long felicity shall find a date,
And I may live to see another turn
When thy proud fabric shall unpitied burn.
Then Heaven, just Heaven, withhold thy rain,
And I will leave my channel once again,
As when my holy Albian8
’s blood was spilt,
Seeing to wash away thy horrid guilt
Is more impossible than ’tis to change
The skins of Negroes that in Afric’ range9
.
Then when thou fryest in vengeful flames of fire,
Thy scorched genius10
 ready to expire,
Thy tongue and mouth sable as salamander
With speaking ’gainst thy king and queen such slander,
Then not a drop of my cool crystal wave
To cool thy sulfurous tongue or life to save,
But when I have of thee seen all my lust
And all thy pride and glory turned to dust,
Then I triumphant with my watery train
Will make this city quagmires11
 once again.
But O, thy blood and perjuries repent,
Then Heaven I hope in mercy will relent.
Thy king restore, call home his queen again,
Or all thy prayer and fasting is in vain.
Hast thou forgot (ay me), so have not I,
Those halcyon days12
, the sweet tranquility
That we enjoyed under his happy reign,
Which Heaven will once restore to us again,
Unless the dismal line of dissolution13
(Which oh, forbid) be drawn upon this nation.
Oft have I borne upon my silver breast
His lovely Chloris like Aurora dressed14
,
With youth and beauty, with her princely spouse.
Envied I was by Severn, Humber, Ouse15
.
The sacred Dee said she no more would boast
Her showing conquest on the conquering coast,
Though Edgar’s glory from her river springs
When he in triumph by eight captive kings
Was rowed upon her famous crystal stream;
Those former honors showed now like a dream.
Nay, the Danube said she would ne’er rehearse
Her being biggest in the universe.
Even Tagus would not brag of golden sands,
But said she envied more my happy strands;
So said the Loire. In envy Po looked on16
Though she were honored by a Phaeton.
And Egypt’s glory, Nilus, stately stream,
Said her felicities were but a dream
When on her o’erflowing waves were seen
The Roman eagles and her black-eyed queen.
And silver Ganges said the sacrifice
The Banians17
 brought with elevated eyes,
Though all their carcasses by fire calcined
Were in her purifying waves refined;
Though all their wealth and treasure in they hurled,
And she were lady of the eastern world;
Yet all that glory she did count a toy
Compared, she said, with happy Thames her joy.
Tiber said of Horatius’ valor brave
She ne’er would speak but I the praise should have.
Crystal Euphrates never did envy
The glory of no other flood but I,
Though from a thousand founts her stream doth spring;
Yet did she never bear so good a king.
Through lofty Babylon her river flows
And earthly paradise she doth enclose;
Though brave Semiramis enlarge her fame,
Yet doth she envy still the English Thame.
But now, alas, they envy me no more,
But with their tears my heavy loss deplore.
Oft have I borne my sacred sovereign’s barge,
Being richly gilt, most proud of such a charge.
My waves would swell to see his princely face,
Each billow loth to give his fellow place.
Sometimes they would rise to kiss his royal hand,
And hardly would give back at my command.
Billow with billow strive, and ruffling roar,
Scorning the blow of either hand or oar.
But now insulting on my billows ride
The kingdom’s scourges and this city’s pride,
Which make my trembling stream lamenting roar
And her sad loss with troubled breast deplore.
Come kind Charybdis, come, oh come, and help’s;
Sweet lovely Scylla, bring thy barking whelps.
Then should they need no monument nor tomb,
But Oceanus’ dark and horrid womb
Should them involve18
. But wishes are in vain;
I will roar out my grief unto the main.
Now all the beauty that my waves adorn
Are snowy swans that sadly swim forlorn;
Nor do they in the sun their feathers prune,
As they were wont, nor yet their voices tune,
But in despairs, hanging their head and wing,
This kingdom’s dirges they expiring sing19
.
Oh that it in my power were to refuse
To see this town, like crystal Arethuse20
.
Below this cursed Earth I would hide my head,
And run amongst the caverns of the dead,
Where my pure wave with Acheron should mix,
With Lethe, Phlegethon, Cocytus, Styx;
Then would I waft them to the stygian shade21
Examples unto rebels to be made.
Oh my sad heart, these are but foolish dreams,
For they triumph upon my conquered streams.
Yet this I’ll do while sighs breathes up my spring;
I’ll trickle tears for my afflicted king,
And look how far one drop of crystal Thames
Doth run, so far I’ll memorize their fames;
So shall my grief immortalize them names.
I hearing these complaints, though time to sleep,
Sat sadly down, and with her ’gan to weep.

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