Upon This Worthy Work, Of His Most Worthy Friend — The Author
Reader, behold presented to thine eye,
What us Columbus off’red long agoe,
Of the New-World a new discoverie,
Which here our Author doth so clearly show;
That he the state which of these Parts would know,
Need not hereafter search the plenteous store
Of Hackluit, Purchas and Ramusio,
Or learn’d Acosta’s writings to look o’re;
Or what Herera hath us told before,
Which merit not the credit due from hence,
Those being but reck’nings of anothers score.
But these the fruits of self-experience:
Wherein our Author useth not the sence
Of those at home, who doe their judgments leave,
And after wandring farr with vast expence,
See many things, which they doe ne’r perceive;
Laborious are by study much at home
To know those Parts, which they came lately from.
Less doth he use us as the late writ Books
Of Journeys made unto the Levant-States;
Wherein when we doe pry with curious looks,
Of Greece and Troy to know the present fates;
They tell us what Thucidides relates,
What Strabo writes, what Homer crown’d with bayes,
What Authors more, who have out-worn their daies,
Besides what Plutarch and Polibius sayes:
So what they were, not what they are, they sing,
And shew their reading, not their travailing.
But here our Author neither doth us tell,
Or to us shew one inch of Sea or Ground,
Unless such acts which in his time befell,
Or what his eyes saw the Horizon bound:
He uttereth nought at all he heard by sound,
He speaks not of a City or a Street,
But where himself hath often gone the round,
And measured o’re with his industrious feet.
And yet it must acknowledg’d be for true,
Since worthy Hawkins, and the famous Drake
Did first present unto the English view
This New-found-world, for great Eliza’s sake;
Renowned Rawleigh twice did undertake
With labours great, and dangers not a few,
A true discovery of these Parts to make,
And thereof writ both what he saw and knew.
But as the man who in a Ship doth pass
Our narrow Seas, the flowings of each tide,
The Ships course, soundings, turnings of the glass,
What Land he makes on North or Southern side,
He may impart: But who they be abide,
Or what Religion, Language, or what Nation
Possess each Coast; since he hath never tride,
How can he make thereof a true Relation?
So those who have describ’d these Parts before,
Of Trade, Winds, Currents, Hurican’s doe tell,
Of Headlands, Harbours, tendings of the shore,
Of Rocks and Isles: wherein they might as well
Talk or a Nut, and onely shew the shell;
The kernell neither tasted, touch’d nor seen
Had yet remain’d; but that it so befell,
That these Relations to us made have been;
Differing as much from what before y’have heard,
As doth a Land-Map from a Seamans Card.
But how these truths reveal’d to us should bee,
When none but Spaniards to those Parts may go;
Which was establish’d by severe Decree,
Lest Forain people should their secrets know;
This Order yet to be neglected so,
As that our Author had permission free,
Whose Nation too they count their greatest foe,
Seemeth almost a miracle to me.
Sure the prescience of that power Divine,
Which safely to those parts did him convey,
Did not for nought his constant heart incline
There twelve whole years so patiently to stay:
That he each thing exactly might survay,
Then him return’d, nay more did turn to us,
And to him shew’d of bliss the perfect way,
Which of the rest seems most miraculous.
For had the last of these not truly been,
These fair Relations we had never seen.
Nor can I think but this most usefull Book
In time to come, may like some new-born Starr,
Direct such Wisemen as therein will look,
And shew their way unto these Regions farr.
And though we now lie sunk in Civill war,
Yet you the worthy Patriots of this Land,
Let not your hearts be drowned in despair,
And so your future happiness withstand.
For time will come you shall enjoy a Peace,
But then no longer you must joy in sinn,
When they no more shall raign, these Wars shall cease,
And then your after bliss shall soon beginn.
The fiery trialls which you now are in,
In stead of foes shall prove your best of friends,
And you from servile base affection win,
To fit your hearts for high and Nobler ends:
Your Drums which us’d to beat their Martiall dance
Upon the banks of Garone, Seine and Soane;
Whilst you trode measures through the Realm of France,
Doe now at home (Oh grief!) on both sides groane,
As if they did your ill spilt blood bemoane;
Which long agoe with Richard, England’s King,
When he the holy Warr maintain’d alone,
Their dreadfull notes did through Judea ring.
Now shall the tawnie Indians quake for fear,
Their direfull march to beat when they doe hear;
Your brave Red-Crosses on both sides display’d,
The noble Badges of your famous Nation,
Which you yet redder with your bloods have made,
And dy’d them deep in drops of detestation.
You shall again advance with reputation,
And on the bounds of utmost Western shore
Shall them transplant, and firmly fix their station,
Where English Colours ne’r did fly before.
Your well-built Ships, companions of the Sunn,
As they were Chariots to his fiery beams,
Which oft the Earths circumference have runn,
And now lie moar’d in Severn, Trent, and Tems,
Shall plough the Ocean with their gilded Stems,
And in their hollow bottoms you convay
To Lands inrich’d with gold, with pearls and gems,
But above all, where many thousands stay
Of wronged Indians, whom you shall set free
From Spanish yoke, and Romes Idolatry.
All this and more by you shall sure be done,
Yet I no Prophet, nor no Prophets sonne.
THOMAS CHALONER.