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diff --git a/old/12322.txt b/old/12322.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..e83992a --- /dev/null +++ b/old/12322.txt @@ -0,0 +1,13545 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Poetical Works of Edmund Waller and Sir +John Denham, by Edmund Waller; John Denham + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Poetical Works of Edmund Waller and Sir John Denham + +Author: Edmund Waller; John Denham + +Release Date: May 10, 2004 [EBook #12322] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK POETICAL WORKS *** + + + + +Produced by Jonathan Ingram, Carol David and PG Distributed Proofreaders + + + + +POETICAL WORKS + +OF + +EDMUND WALLER + +AND + +SIR JOHN DENHAM. + +WITH MEMOIR AND DISSERTATION, + +BY THE + +REV. GEORGE GILFILLAN. + + +M.DCCC.LVII. + + + + +THE + +LIFE OF EDMUND WALLER. + +It is too true, after all, that the lives of poets are not, in general, +very interesting. Could we, indeed, trace the private workings of their +souls, and read the pages of their mental and moral development, no +biographies could be richer in instruction, and even entertainment, than +those of our greater bards. The inner life of every true poet must be +poetical. But in proportion to the romance of their souls' story, is +often the commonplace of their outward career. There have been poets, +however, whose lives are quite as readable and as instructive as their +poetry, and have even shed a reflex and powerful interest on their +writings. The interest of such lives has, in general, proceeded either +from the extraordinary misfortunes of the bard, or from his extremely +bad morals, or from his strange personal idiosyncrasy, or from his being +involved in the political or religious conflicts of his age. The life of +Milton, for instance, is rendered intensely interesting from his +connexion with the public affairs of his critical and solemn era. The +life of Johnson is made readable from his peculiar conformation of body, +his bear-like manners, his oddities, and his early struggles. You devour +the life of Gifford, not because he was a poet, but because he was a +shoemaker; and that of Byron, more on account of his vices, his peerage, +and his domestic unhappiness, than for the sake of his poetry. And in +Waller, too, you feel some supplemental interest, because he united what +are usually thought the incompatible characters of a poet and a +political plotter, and very nearly reached the altitudes of the gallows +as well as those of Parnassus. + +March 1605 was the date, and Coleshill, in Hertfordshire, the place, of +the birth of our poet. He was of an ancient and honourable family +originally from Kent, some members of which were distinguished for their +wealth and others for the valour with which, at Agincourt and elsewhere, +they fought the battles of their country. Robert Waller, the poet's +father, inherited from Edmund, _his_ father, the lands of Beaconsfield, +in Bucks, and other territory in Hertfordshire. These had been in 1548-9 +left by Francis Waller, in default of issue by his own wife, to his +brothers Thomas and Edmund, but Thomas dying, Edmund inherited the +whole. Robert, on receiving his estates, quitted the profession of the +law, to which he had attached himself, and spent the rest of his life +chiefly at Beaconsfield, employed in the manly business and healthy +amusements of a country gentleman. He died in August 1616, and left a +widow and a son--the son, Edmund, being eleven years of age. It was at +Beaconsfield. We need hardly remind our readers, that a far greater +Edmund--Edmund Burke--spent many of his days. It was there that he +composed his latest and noblest works, the "Reflections on the French +Revolution," and the "Letters on a Regicide Peace;" and there he +surrendered to the Creator one of the subtlest, strongest, brightest, +and best of human souls. Shortly after Burke's death, the house of +Beaconsfield was burnt down, and no trace of it is now, we believe, +extant. + +Mrs. Waller's brother, William, was the father of John Hampden. His +wife, Elizabeth Cromwell, the aunt of the great Oliver, was, however, +and continued to the end, a violent Royalist; and Cromwell, although he +treated both her and her son with kindness, and on the terms of their +relationship, was so provoked at hearing that she carried on a secret +correspondence with the Stewart party, that he confined her under a very +strict watch in the house of her daughter, Mrs. Price, whose husband was +on the side of the Parliament. It is exceedingly probable that from the +"mother's milk" of early prejudice was derived that spirit of +partisanship which distinguished alike the writings and the life of the +poet. It is possible, too, that contact with men so far above moral +heroism and rugged mental force as Cromwell and Hampden, instead of +exciting emulation, led to envy, and that his divergence from their +political path sprung more from personal feeling than from principle. + +He was educated, first, at the grammar school of Market, Wickham; then +at Eton; and, in fine, at King's College, Cambridge. Accounts vary as to +his proficiency--one Bigge, who had been his school-fellow at Wickham, +told Aubrey that he never expected Waller to have become such an eminent +poet, and that he used to write his exercises for him. Others, on the +contrary, have alleged that it was the fame of his scholarship which led +to his election for Agmondesham, a borough in Bucks, when he was only +sixteen years of age. This story, so far as his premature learning goes, +seems rather apocryphal; but certain it is, that when scarcely eighteen, +he had become M.P. for the above-mentioned borough. The parliament in +which he found himself, was one of those subservient and cringing +assemblies which James I. was wont to summon to sit till they had voted +the supplies, and then contemptuously to dismiss. It met in November +1621, and after passing a resolution in support of their privileges, +which James tore out of the Journals with his own hand, and granting the +usual supplies, was dissolved on the 6th of January 1622. Waller was +probably as silent and servile as any of his neighbours. He began, +however, to feel his way as a courtier, and overheard some curious and +not very canonical talk of James with his lords and bishops, the record +of which reminds you of some of the richer scenes of the "Fortunes of +Nigel." The next parliament was not called till 1624, when Waller was +not elected. The electors of Agmondesham, who had, meantime, obtained +fuller privileges, chose two matured members to represent them, and the +precocious boy lost his seat. + +Waller's "political and poetical life began nearly together." It was in +his eighteenth year that he wrote his first poetical piece--that on the +escape of Prince Charles from a tempest on his return from Spain. It is +a tissue of smooth and musical mediocrity. It shews a kind of stunted +prematurity. The perfection which is attained by a single effort is +generally a poor and tame one. This poem of Waller's, like several of +his others, has all that merit which arises from the absence of fault, +and all that fault which arises from the absence of merit--of high +poetic merit, we mean, for in music it is equal to any of his poems. +Much has been said about the model which he followed in his +versification, the majority of critics tracing in it an imitation of +Fairfax's Tasso. The fact seems to be that Waller, with a good ear, had +a very limited theory of verse. He worshipped smoothness, and sought it +at every hazard. He preferred the Jacob of a soft flowing commonplace to +the rough hairy Esau of a strong originality, cumbered with its own +weight and richness. We think that this excessive love of the soft, and +horror at the rude, materially weakened his genius. The true theory of +versification lies in variety, and in accommodation to the necessities +and fluctuations of the thought. The "Paradise Lost," written in +Waller's rhyme, would have been as ridiculous as Waller's love to +Saccharissa expressed in Milton's blank verse. The school before Waller +were too rugged, but surely there is a medium between the roughness of +Donne, and the honied monotony of the author of the "Summer Islands." +The practice of running the lines into one another, severely condemned +by Johnson, and systematically shunned by Waller, has often been +practised with success by poets far greater than either--such as Shelley +and Coleridge. It is remarkable that Dryden, while he praised, did not +copy our poet's manner, but gave himself freer scope. Pope, on the other +hand, pushed his love of uniform tinkle and unmitigated softness to +excess, and transferred this kind of luscious verse from small poems, +where it is often a merit, to large ones, where it is a mistake. In his +"Iliad," for instance, the fierce ire of Achilles, the dignified +resentment of Agamemnon, the dull courage of Ajax, the chivalrous +sentiment of Hector, the glowing energy of Diomede, the veteran wisdom +of Nestor, the grief of Andromache, the love of Helen, the jealousy of +Juno, and the godlike majesty of Jupiter, are all expressed in the same +sweet and monotonous melody--a verse called "heroic," by courtesy, or on +the principle of contradiction, like _lucus a non lucendo_. In Waller, +however, his poems being all, without exception, rather short, you never +think of quarrelling with his uniformity of manner; and rise from his +lines as from a liberal feast of hot-house grapes, thankful, but feeling +that a _few more_ would have turned satisfaction into nausea. Yet you +feel, too, that perhaps his selection of small themes, and the +consequent curbing of his powers, have sprung from his fastidiousness in +the matter of versification. The sermons, the satires, the speeches, the +odes, and the didactic poems of the fastidious are generally _short_, +and do not, therefore, fully mirror the amplitude, or express the energy +of their genius. To his poem on the escape of Prince Charles, succeeded +that on the Prince, and two or three others of a similar kind; all +finding their inspiration, not as yet in that love of others which +animated his amatory effusions, but in that love to himself and his own +interest which marks the incipient courtier, who is beginning, in +Shakspeare's thought, to hang his knee upon "hinges," that it may bend +more readily to power. Yet his case shews that there is a certain +incompatibility between the profession of a courtier and that of a poet. +He often began his panegyrics with much fervour, but the fit passed, or +his fastidious taste produced disgust at what he had written, and it was +either not finished, or was delayed till the interest of the occasion +had passed away. + +After the death of James I., Charles called a new parliament in 1625, +and in it Waller took his place for Chipping-Wycombe, a borough in +Buckinghamshire. This parliament met in London, but was adjourned to +Oxford on account of the Plague. In Oxford, it proved refractory to the +king's wishes, and refusing to grant him a tithe of the supplies which +he demanded, was summarily dismissed. Waller was not re-elected in 1626, +when the next parliament was summoned, but secured his return for +Agmondesham in March 1627. He appears to have been in these years a +silent senator, taking little interest or share in the debates, but +retiring from them to offer the quit-rent of his versicles--a laureate +without salary, and yet not probably much more sincere than laureates +generally are; for although his loyalty was undoubted, his expressions +of it in rhyme are often hyperbolical to a degree. + +In his twenty-sixth year, he married an heiress, the daughter of Mr. +Banks, a wealthy London citizen. In this there was nothing singular but +the fact, that he, as yet obscure, distanced a rival of great influence, +whose suit was supported by royalty--namely, Mr. Crofts, afterwards +Baron Crofts--gave rather a romantic and adventurous air to the match. +He retired soon after to Beaconsfield, where he spent some happy years +in the enjoyment of domestic society, pursuing, too, his studies under +the direction of Morley, afterwards Bishop of Winchester, a +distinguished scholar of the time, who resided with him. During this +period he is said to have read many poets, but to have written little +poetry. Although the king, jealous of his subjects, had, in 1632, by a +most absurd and arbitrary decree, commanded all the lords and gentry in +the kingdom to reside on their own estates, Waller did not at the time +consider this an exceeding hardship. Indeed, his feelings were on no +subject, and under no pressure of circumstances, either very profound or +very lasting. + +His wife died after having borne him a son and a daughter--a son, who +did not long survive his mother; and a daughter, who became afterwards +Mrs. Dormer of Oxfordshire. From under this calamity Waller, yet only +thirty years of age, rebounded with characteristic elasticity. He came +back, nothing both, to the society he had left, and was soon known to be +in quest of a fair lady, whom he has made immortal by the sobriquet of +Saccharissa. She was the eldest daughter of the Earl of Leicester, and +her name was the Lady Dorothy Sidney. This lady was counted beautiful. +Her father was absent in foreign parts. She lived almost alone in +Penshurst. It added to her charms, at least in a poetical eye, that she +was descended from Sir Philip Sidney; a man whose name, as the flower of +chivalry and the soul of honour, is still "like ointment poured forth" +in the estimation of the world--whose death rises almost to the dignity +and grandeur of a martyrdom--and who has left in his "Arcadia" a +quaintly decorated, conceived, and unequally chiselled, but true, rich, +and magnificent monument of his genius. In spite, however, of all +Waller's tender ditties, of the incense he offered up--not only to +Dorothy, but to her sister Lady Lucy, and even to her maid Mrs. +Braughton--his goddess was inexorable, and not only rejected, but +spurned him from her feet. The poet bore this disappointment, as all +poets, Dante hardly excepted, have borne the same: he transferred his +affections to another, who, indeed, ere Saccharissa-like the sun had set +in the west, had risen like the moon in the east of her lover's +admiration, and soon, although only for a short time, possessed the sky +alone. This was his Amoret, who is said to have been Lady Sophia Murray. +The Juliet, however, was not one whit more placable than the Rosalind-- +she, too, rejected his suit; and this rejection threw Waller, not into +despair or melancholy, but into a wide sea of miscellaneous flirtations, +with we know not how many Chlorises, Sylvias, Phyllises, and Flavias, +all which names stood, it seems, for real persons, and testified to a +universality in the poet's affections which is rather ludicrous than +edifying. His heart was as soft, and shallower than his verse. + +Saccharissa married Lord Spencer, afterwards the Earl of Sunderland, who +was killed at the battle of Newbury. After his death, she was united to +a Mr. Robert Smythe; and she now lies at Brinton, in Northamptonshire, +while her picture continues, from the walls of the gallery at Penshurst, +to shed down the soft, languishing, and voluptuous smile which had +captivated the passions, if it could hardly be said to have really +touched the heart, of her poetical admirer. He not very long after his +twofold rejection, consoled himself by marrying a second wife. Her name +was Breaux or Bresse; and all we know of her is, that she bore and +brought up a great many children. + +In 1639, the urgencies of the times compelled Charles to call a new +parliament, and it was decreed that politics instead of love and song +should now for a time engross our poet. And there opened up to him +unquestionably a noble field of patriotic exertion had he been fully +adapted for its cultivation--his firmness been equal to his eloquence, +and his sincerity to his address--had he been more of a Whig in the good +old Hampden sense, and less of a trimmer. As it is, he cuts, on the +whole, a doubtful figure, and is no great favourite with the partisans +of either of the great contending parties. He was again elected member +for Agmondesham, and when the question came before the House, whether +the supplies demanded by Strafford should be granted, or the grievances +complained of by the Commons should be first redressed, he delivered an +oration, trying with considerable dexterity to steer a medium course +between the two sides. In this speech, while contending for the +constitutional principle advocated by the Commons, and expressing great +attachment to his Majesty's person, he maintained that the chief blame +of the king's obnoxious measures lay with his clerical advisers, and +concluded by moving that the House should first consider the grievances, +and then grant the royal demand. Charles, who had personally requested +Waller to second the motion for instantly granting the supplies, was +not, we imagine, particularly pleased with his "volunteer" laureate's +conduct; and his temporary defection did not tend to allay the royal +fury at the parliament, which burst out forthwith in an act of sudden +and wrathful dismissal. + +This session, called from its extreme brevity the Short Parliament, +ended in May. In November met that memorable assembly, destined not to +separate till it had outlived a monarchy and a hierarchy, and seen a +brewer's son take the sceptre instead of the descendant of a hundred +kings, the Long Parliament. Waller, again member for Agmondesham, had +made himself popular by his speech in the beginning of the year, and was +chosen by the Commons to manage the prosecution of Judge Crawley for +advising the levy of ship-money. He conducted the case with talent, +acuteness, and moderation. Soon after, however, as the gulph widened +between the king and the parliament, his position became extremely +awkward. His understanding on the whole was with the parliament, +although he did not approve of some of their measures, but his heart was +with the royal cause. He first of all, along with a others (whose +example was imitated by Fox and his party during the French Revolution), +retired from parliament, but in consequence of the permission or request +of the king, he speedily resumed his seat. When Charles put himself in a +warlike attitude in August 1642, Waller sent him a present of a thousand +broad pieces. Still his plausible language, the tone of moderation which +he preserved, and his connexion with Cromwell and Hampden, rendered the +popular party unwilling to believe him a traitor to their cause, and he +was appointed, after the battle at Edgehill, one of the commissioners +who met at Oxford to treat of peace. Here, it is said, that one of those +compliments which cost the subtle Charles so little (Waller was last in +being presented to the king, and his Majesty told him, "Though last, you +are not the lowest nor the least in my favour"), gained over Waller, and +suggested to him the scheme of his famous plot. We do not think so +little of our hero's intellect, or so much of his heart, as to credit +this story. Though not aged, he was by far too old to be caught with +such chaff. He knew, too, before, Charles' private sentiments towards +him, and we incline with some of his biographers to suppose that these +words of royalty were simply the signal to Waller to fire the train +which the king knew right well had already been prepared. + +Poets are in general poor politicians and miserable plotters. They +seldom, even in verse or fiction, manage a state plot well. Scott, at +least, has completely failed in his treatment of the Popish plot in +"Peveril," and they always bungle it in reality. They are either too +unsuspicious or too scheming, too shallow or too profound. That mixture +of transparency and craft, of simplicity and subtlety, requisite to all +deep schemes, and which Poe (himself a confused compound of the genius, +the simpleton, and the scoundrel) has so admirably exemplified in the +"Purloined Letter," is not often competent to men of imagination and +impulse. Waller was not a very creative spirit; but here he was true to +his class, and failed like a very poet. He had a brother-in-law named +Tomkins, clerk of the Queen's Council, and possessed of much influence +in the city. Consulting together on national affairs, it struck them +simultaneously that energetic measures might yet save the court. They +saw, or thought they saw, a reaction in favour of the royal cause, and +they determined to try and unite the royalists together in a peaceful +but strong combination against the parliament. They appointed +confidential agents to make out, in the different parishes and wards, +lists of those persons who were or were not friendly to their cause; and +to secure secresy, they prohibited more than three of their party from +meeting in one place, and no individual was to reveal the design to more +than two others. Lord Conway, fresh from Ireland, joined the +confederacy, and probably the counsels of such an ardent soldier served +to modify the original purpose, and to give it a military colour. +Meanwhile, Sir Nicholas Crispe, a bolder spirit than Waller, had +organised a different scheme in favour of Charles. He had, when a +merchant in the city, procured a loan of L100,000 for the king; he had +then raised and taken the command of a regiment; he had obtained from +Charles a commission of array, which Lady Aubigny, ignorant of its +contents, was to deliver to a gentleman in London. Crispe's plan was +bold and comprehensive. He intended to remove the king's children to a +place of safety, to enlist soldiers, collect magazines, and raise monies +by contribution, to release the prisoners committed by the parliament, +to arrest some of the leading members in both Houses, to issue +declarations, and whenever the conspiracy was ripe, to raise flags at +Temple Bar, the Exchange, and other central spots. + +It was impossible that two such plots could escape collision with each +other--or that either should be long concealed. On the 31st May 1643, a +fast-day, Pym is seated in St. Margaret's Church, hearing sermon. A +messenger enters and gives him a letter. He reads hastily--communicates +its intelligence in whispers to those beside him, and hurries out. No +time is lost. Pym and his party could not trifle now though they would, +and would not though they could. Waller and Tomkins are seized that +night in their houses, and overwhelmed with fear, confess everything. It +is suspected that Waller was betrayed by his sister, Mrs. Price, who was +married to a zealous parliamentarian. A strange story is told, that one +Goode, her chaplain, had stolen some of his papers, and would have got a +hold of them all, had not Waller, having DREAMED that his sister was +perfidious, risen and secured the rest. Clarendon, on the other hand, +says that the discovery was made by a servant of Tomkins, who acted as a +spy for the parliament. At all events, they were found out, and, in +their terror and pusillanimity, they betrayed their associates. The Duke +of Portland and Lord Conway were instantly arrested. Lady Aubigny, too, +was imprisoned, but contrived to make her escape to the Hague. Even the +Earl of Northumberland was involved in the charges which now issued in a +trembling torrent from the lips of the detected conspirator, who +confessed a great deal that could not have been discovered, and offered +to reveal the private conversations of ladies of rank, and to betray all +and sundry who were in the slightest degree connected with the plot. +Tomkins had somehow got possession of Crispe's commission of array, +which he had buried in the garden, but which was now, on his +information, dug up. Never did a conspiracy fall to pieces more rapidly, +completely, and, for the conspirators, more disgracefully. + +This discovery proves a windfall to the parliamentary party. Pym hies to +the citizens and apprises them, in one breath, at once of their danger +and their signal deliverance. The Commons draw up a vow and covenant, +expressing their detestation of all such conspiracies, and appoint a day +of thanksgiving for the escape of the nation. Meanwhile Waller and +Portland are confronted, when the one repeats his charge and Portland +denies it. Conway, too, maintains his innocence, and as Waller is the +only evidence against either him or Portland, both are, after a long +imprisonment, admitted to bail. Tomkins, Chaloner (the agent of Crispe), +Hassel (the king's courier between Oxford and London), Alexander Hampden +(Waller's cousin), and some subordinate conspirators, are arraigned +before a Council of War. Waller feigns himself so ill with remorse of +conscience, that his trial is put off that he "may recover his +understanding." Hassel dies the night before the trial. Tomkins and +Chaloner are hanged before their own doors. Hampden escapes punishment, +but is retained in prison, where he dies; and the subordinates just +referred to (Blinkorne and White) are pardoned. Northumberland, owing to +his rank, is only once examined before the Lords. Those whose names were +inserted in the commission of array are treated as malignants, and their +estates seized. + +Waller, having received some respite, employed the time in petitioning, +flattering, bribing, confessing, beseeching, and in the exercise of +every other art by which a mean, cowardly spirit seeks to evade death. +He appealed from the military jurisdiction to the House of Commons, and +was admitted to plead his cause at their bar. His speech was humble, +conciliating, and artful, but failed to gain the object. He was expelled +from the House, and soon after was sisted before the Court of War, and +condemned to die. He was reprieved, however, by Essex, and at the end of +a year's imprisonment, the sentence was commuted into a fine of L10,000, +and banishment for life. He was sent to "recollect himself in another +country." He had previously expended, it is said, L30,000 in bribes. + +Waller's conduct in this whole matter was a mixture of cowardice and +meanness. Recollecting his poetical temperament, and the well-known +stories of Demosthenes at Cheronea, and Horace at Philippi, we are not +disposed to be harsh on his cowardice, but we have no excuse for his +meanness. It discovers a want of heart, and an infinite littleness of +soul. We can hardly conceive him to have possessed a drop of the blood +of Hampden or Cromwell in his veins, and cease to wonder why two +high-spirited ladies of rank should have spurned the homage of a poetic +poltroon, whom instinctively they seem to have known to be such, even +before he proved it to the world. + +"Infamous, and _not_ contented," Waller repairs to the Continent, first +to Rouen, then to Switzerland and Italy, in company with his friend +Evelyn, and, in fine, settles for a season in Paris. Here he keeps open +table for the banished royalists, as well as for the French wits, till +his means are impaired by his liberality. A middling poet, a pitiful +politician, a fickle dangler in affairs of love, Waller was an admirable +_host_, and not only gave good dinners and suppers, but flavoured them +delicately with compliment and repartee. In Paris he recovered his tone +of spirits, and, had his money lasted, might have remained there till +his dying day. But fines and bribes had exhausted his patrimony, and he +was compelled first to sell a property in Bedfordshire, worth more than +L1,000 a-year, then to part with his wife's jewels, and in fine to sell +the last of these, which he called "the rump jewel." His family, too, +had increased, and added to his incumbrances. His favourite was a +daughter, Margaret, born in Rouen, who acted as his amanuensis. At last, +through the intercession of his brother-in-law, Scroope, he was +permitted to return to England. This was on the 13th of January 1652. +During all his residence on the Continent, he had continued to amuse +himself with poetry, "in which," says Johnson, "he sometimes speaks of +the rebels and their usurpation, in the natural language of an honest +man." If this mean that Waller, when he uttered such sentiments, was, +for the nonce, sincere, it is quite true; but if the Doctor means that +Waller was, speaking generally, an honest man, it is not true; and Dr. +Johnson repeatedly signifies, in other parts of his life, that he does +not believe it to be true. He speaks, for instance, of the "exorbitance +of his adulation," of his "having lost the esteem of all parties," and +says, "It is not possible to read without some contempt and indignation, +poems ascribing the highest degree of _power_ and _piety_ to Charles the +First, and then transferring the same _power_ and _piety_ to Oliver +Cromwell." In keeping with this, Bishop Burnet asserts, that "in the +House he was only concerned to say what should make him applauded, and +never laid the business of the House to heart." + +Waller, returning, found his mother still alive at Beaconsfield, where +Cromwell sometimes visited her; and when she talked in favour of the +royal cause, would throw napkins at her, and say that he would not +dispute with his aunt, although afterwards, as we have seen, her spirit +of political intrigue compelled him to make her a prisoner in her own +house. The poet took up his residence near her at Hall-barn, a house of +his own erection, and on the walls of which he hung up a picture of +Saccharissa, whence he hoped, it may be, draw consolation for the past, +and inspiration for the future. Here Cromwell, who probably despised +Waller in his heart, as often men of action despise men of mere literary +ability, especially when that ability is not transcendent, but whose cue +it was to conciliate all men according to their respective positions and +capabilities, paid great attention to his kinsman. Waller found Cromwell +well acquainted with the ancient historians, and they conversed a good +deal on such topics. It is said, that when Waller jeered him on his +using the peculiar phraseology of the Puritans in his conversation with +them, the Protector answered, "Cousin Waller, I must talk to these men +in their own way;" an anecdote which is sometimes quoted as if it proved +that Cromwell had no religion; whereas it only proved that he had at +heart no cant. It was not as if he had privately avowed infidelity to +his kinsman. Cromwell found _cant_ prevalent on his stage, just as any +great actor of that century found _rant_ on his, and, like the actor, he +used it occasionally as a means of gaining his own lofty ends, and as a +foil to his own genuine earnestness and power. + +The Protector, however, seems to have profoundly impressed even Waller's +light and fickle mind; and the panegyric which he produced on him in +1654, is not only the ablest, but seems the sincerest of his +productions. He had hitherto been writing about women, courtiers, and +kings; but now he had to gird up his loins and write on a man. The piece +is accordingly as masculine in style, as it is just in appreciation; +and, with the exception of Milton's glorious sketch in the "Defensio pro +populo Anglicano," and Carlyle's lecture in his "Heroes and +Hero-worship," it is, perhaps, the best encomium ever pronounced on the +Lord Protector of England--almost worthy of Cromwell's unrivalled merits +and achievements, and more than worthy of Waller's powers. It is said, +that when twitted with having written a better panegyric on Cromwell +than a congratulation to Charles II., he wittily replied, "You should +remember that poets succeed better in fiction than in truth." Perhaps in +this he spoke ironically; certainly the fact was the reverse of his +words. It is because he has spoken truth in the first, and fiction in +the second, of productions, that the first is incomparably the better +poem. Sketches of character taken from the life are better than those +where imagination operates on hearsays and on recorded actions. And +certainly few men had a better opportunity than Waller of seeing in +private and in undress, and with an eye in which native sagacity was +sharpened by prejudices, partly for, partly against, the Man of that +century--a man in whom we recognise a union of Roman, Hebrew, and +English qualities--the faith of the Jew, the firmness of the Roman, and +the homespun simplicity of the Englishman of his own age--in purpose and +in powers "an armed angel on a battle-day;" in manners a plain blunt +corporal; and in language always a stammerer, and sometimes a buffoon; +the middle-class man of his time, with the merits and the defects of his +order, but touched with an inspiration as from heaven, lifting him far +above all the aristocracy, and all the royalty, and all the literature +of his period; who found his one great faculty--inflamed and consecrated +commonsense--to be more than equal to the subleties, and brilliancies, +and wit, and eloquence, and taste, and genius, of his thousand +opponents--whose crown was a branch of English oak, his sceptre a strong +sapling of the same, his throne a mound of turf--who economised matters +by being at once king and king's jester, and whose mere _clenched fist_, +held up at home or across the waters, saved millions of money, awed +despots, encouraged freedom in every part of the world, and had nearly +established a pure form of Christianity over Great Britain--who gave his +country a model of excellence as a man, and as a ruler, simple, severe, +ruggedly picturesque, and stupendously original, and solitary as one of +the primitive rocks--whose eloquence was uneven and piercing as the +forked lightning, which is never so terrible as when it falls to pieces +--and highest praise of all, whose deeds and character were so great in +their sublime simplicity, that the poet, who afterwards sung the +hierarchies of heaven, and the anarchies of hell, was fain to sit a +humble secretary, recording the thoughts and actions of Cromwell, and +felt afterwards that he had been as nobly employed when defending his +grand defiance of evil and arbitrary power, as when he did + + "Assert Eternal Providence, + And justify the ways of God to man." + +We have seen pictured representations of Cromwell and Milton seated +together at the council-table, in which the painter wished more than to +insinuate that Milton was the superior being; but in our judgment the +advantage was on the other side, and the poet seemed to bear only that +relation and proportion to the Protector which the eloquent Raphael, the +"affable archangel," the bard of the war in heaven, does to the Gabriel +or the Michael, whose tremendous sword mingled in and all but decided +the fray. And we thought what a junction were that of the two powers--of +the sword and the pen, the actor and the recorder, the man to do, and +the poet to sing! Waller in his panegyric sees and shews in a few lines +Cromwell's relation to Britain, and that of both to the world:-- + + "Heaven that has placed this island to give law, + To balance Europe, and her states to awe, + In this conjunction does on Britain smile, + _The greatest leader and the greatest isle_." + +He saw that in Cromwell, and in Cromwell alone, had the power of Britain +come to a point: IT was made, if not to be the governor to be the +moderator of the earth, and HE was sent to govern it, to condense its +scattered energies, to awe down its warring factions, and to wield all +its forces to one good and great end. In him for the first time had the +wild island, the Bucephalus of the West, found a rider able, by backing, +bridling, and curbing him, to give due direction and momentum to his +fury, force, and speed. + +He has scattered some other precious particles of thought in this poem, +such as:-- + + "Lords of the world's great waste, the ocean, we + Whole forests send to reign upon the sea." + + "The Caledonians, arm'd with want and cold." + + "The states, changed by you, + Changed like the world's great scene, when without noise, + The rising sun night's vulgar lights destroys." + + "Illustrious acts high raptures do infuse, + _And every conqueror creates a Muse_." + +When Cromwell died, Waller again lifted up his pen, and indited a short +lamentation over his loss. After the Restoration, he was one of the +first to read a poetical recantation of his errors in verses addressed +to Charles II. In 1661 he was returned to parliament for Hastings, in +Sussex, and sat afterwards at various times for Chipping-Wycombe, and +Saltash. In parliament, he was rather famed for his lively sallies of +wit, than for his logic, sense, or earnestness. In private, his spirits, +even without the aid of wine,--which he never drank,--continued to a +great age unusually buoyant. As he advanced in life he became more +religious, and intermixed a vein of devotion with his verse. When +eighty-two, he bought a small estate in Coleshill, near his native +place, desirous, he said, "to die, like the stag, where he was roused." +His wish, however, was not granted. Seized with tumours in his legs, he +went to Windsor to consult Sir Charles Scarborough, then waiting on the +king. Sir Charles, at Waller's request to know the "meaning" of these +swellings, told him that they showed that his "blood would no longer +run." On this the poet quietly repeated a passage from Virgil, and +returned to Beaconsfield to die. Having received the sacrament, and +shared it with his children, and expressed his faith in Christianity, he +expired on the 21st of October 1687. He was buried in the churchyard of +Beaconsfield. He left five sons and eight daughters. His eldest son +being an imbecile, Edmund, his second, inherited the estates, and having +joined the party of the Prince of Orange, sat for Agmondesham for some +years, but became ultimately a Quaker. The fortunes of the rest of his +family are not particularly interesting, and need not be related. + +As a character, our opinion of Waller has been already indicated. He was +indecisive, vacillating, with more wit than judgment, and with more +judgment than earnestness. In that age of high hearts, stormy passions, +and determined purpose, he looks helpless and not at home, like a +butterfly in an eagle's eyrie. A gifted, accomplished, and apparently an +amiable man, he was a feeble, and almost a despicable character. The +parliament seem to have thought him hardly worth hanging. Cromwell bore +with him only as a kinsman, and respected him only as a scholar. Charles +II. liked to laugh at his jokes, and to Saville his company was as good +as an additional bottle of wine. His only chance of fame as a man of +action arose from his connexion with the plot, which, however, in its +issue covered him with infamy, as all bad things bungled, inevitably do +to those who attempt them. + +Although he unquestionably in some points improved our correctness of +style and our versification, there is not much to be said either for or +against his poetry. It is as a whole a mass of smooth and easy, yet +systematic, trifling. Nine-tenths of it does not rise above mediocrity, +and the tenth that remains is more distinguished by grace than by +grandeur or depth. His lines on Cromwell we have already characterised. +It may seem odd, but in his verses on the head of a stag, which Johnson +singles out as bad, we see more of the soul of poetry than in any of his +other productions. + +Let our readers, if they will not be convinced by our assertion, listen +to some of these lines:-- + + "So we some antique hero's strength, + Learn by his lance's weight and length-- + As these vast beams express the beast + Whose shady brows alive they dress'd. + Such game, while yet the world was new, + The mighty Nimrod did pursue; + What huntsman of our feeble race + Or dogs dare such a monster chase? + * * * * * + Oh, fertile head, which every year + Could such a CROP of WONDER bear!" + +In his amorous and complimentary ditties, he is often very successful. +So, too, is he in much of his "Divine Poetry," particularly the lines at +the end, beginning with-- + + "The soul's dark cottage, batter'd and decay'd," + Lets in new light through chinks which time hath made. + +These contain a thought, so far as we remember, new and highly poetical. + +We may close by saying a few words on a question which Dr. Johnson has +started in his "Life of Waller" in reference to sacred poetry. That +great and good man, our readers remember, maintains that the ideas of +the Christian theology are too simple for eloquence, too sacred for +fiction, and too majestic for ornament, and "that faith, thanksgiving, +repentance, and supplication," are all unsusceptible of poetical +treatment. He grants that the doctrines of religion may be defended in a +didactic poem, and that a poet may not only describe God's works in +nature, but may trace them up to nature's God. But he asserts that +"contemplative piety, or the intercourse between God and the human soul, +cannot be poetical." It is curious to remember that, up to Johnson's +time, the best poetry in the world had been sacred. There had been the +poetry of the Bible, in which truth of the deepest import was expressed, +now in "eloquence," now in "fiction," and now in language most +gorgeously "ornamented," and in which "Faith" in Isaiah, "Thanksgiving" +in Moses, "Penitence" in David, and "Supplication" in Jeremiah, had +uttered themselves in sublime, or lively, or subdued, or tender strains +--the poetry of the "Divine Commedia," of the "Jerusalem Delivered," of +the "Faery Queen," of the "Paradise Lost" and "Paradise Regained," of +the "Night-Thoughts," of "Smart's David," all poetry, let it be +observed, not defending religion merely, or confining itself to the +praise of God's lower works, but entering into the depths of divine +contemplation, into the very adyta of the heavenly temple. And it is no +less interesting to recollect that in spite of Dr. Johnson's sage +diction, sacred poetry of a very high order has, since his day, +abounded. Cowper has extracted it from "the intercourse between God and +the human soul;" Montgomery has made now "the supplication," and now the +"thanksgiving," of the poor negro ring in every ear, and vibrate through +every heart; Coleridge has expressed, in his sounding and splendid +measures, at one time his "faith," and at another his "repentance;" +Pollok has with true, although unequal steps, followed Milton and Dante, +both into the heaven of heavens, and into the gloom of Gehenna; and +Wordsworth, Southey, Croly, Milman, Trench, Keble, and a host more have, +by their noble religious hymns, shamed the wisdom of the Sadducee, and +darkened the glory of the song of the sceptic. Why argue about +principles while we can appeal to facts? Why shew either the +probabilities against, or the probabilities for, good sacred poetry, +while we see it before us, gushing from a thousand springs, and +gladdening every corner of the church and of the world? + +Dr. Johnson says, "Whatever is great, desirable, or tremendous, is +comprised in the name of the Supreme Being. Omnipotence cannot be +exalted. Infinity cannot be amplified. Perfection cannot be improved." +All this is as true as it is pointedly expressed; but though true, it is +nothing to the purpose--nay, bears as much against prayer as against +poetry. What meant the Psalmist when he said, "My soul doth magnify the +Lord?" Did he aspire to exalt Omnipotence or to amplify perfection? No; +but only first to shew his own feeling of their magnitude; and, again, +to raise himself a step toward an approximately adequate conception of +the Most High. So in religious poetry. We cannot add to, or exalt God, +but we can raise ourselves up nearer to Him, and attain, if not a full +understanding, a deeper feeling of the elements of His surpassing +excellence and glory. Indeed, as the highest poetry (in Milton, for +instance) blossoms into prayer, so the truest prayer, often by +insensible gradation, becomes poetry. + +Dr. Johnson says, that "of sentiments purely religious, the most simple +expression is the most sublime." True, and hence, the best religious +poetry is at once sublime and simple. He adds, "Poetry loses its lustre +and its power, because it is applied to the decoration of something more +excellent than itself." On this principle, poets should never sing of +God's works in nature--of the ocean, or the sun, or the stars--no, nor +of the heroic achievements of man's courage, or of the self-sacrifices +of his love--for are not all these more excellent than poetry? Dr +Johnson's theory would hush the "New Song" itself, and perpetuate that +silence which was once in heaven "for half-an-hour." + +Long before the Doctor vented this paradox, Cowley, in his preface to +his poems, had written the following eloquent and memorable sentences on +this subject:--"When I consider how many bright and magnificent subjects +Scripture affords, and proffers, as it were, to poesy, in the wise +managing and illustrating whereof the glory of God Almighty might be +joined with the singular utility and noblest delight of mankind, it is +not without grief and indignation that I behold that divine science +employing all her inexhaustible riches of wit and eloquence, either in +the wicked and beggarly flattering of great persons, or the unmanly +idolising of foolish women, or the wretched affectation of scurril +laughter, or the confused dreams of senseless fables and metamorphoses. +Amongst all holy and consecrated things which the devil ever stole and +alienated from the service of the Deity--as altars, temples, sacrifices, +prayers, and the like--there is none that he so universally and so long +usurped as poetry. It is time to recover it out of the tyrant's hands, +and to restore it to the kingdom of God, who is the Father of it. It is +time to baptize it in Jordan, for it will never become clean by bathing +in the waters of Damascus. + +"What can we imagine more proper for the ornaments of wit and learning +in the story of Deucalion than in that of Noah? Why will not the actions +of Samson afford as plentiful matter as the Labours of Hercules? +(Perhaps from this Milton took the hint of writing his "Samson +Agonistes.") Why is not Jephtha's daughter as good a woman as Iphigenia? +and the friendship of David and Jonathan more worthy celebration than +that of Theseus and Pirithous? Does not the passage of Moses and the +Israelites into the Holy Land yield incomparably more poetic variety +than the voyages of Ulysses and Aeneas? Are the obsolete, threadbare +tales of Thebes and Troy half so well stored with great, heroical, and +supernatural actions (since verse will needs find or make such), as the +wars of Joshua, of the Judges, of David, and divers others? Can all the +transformations of the gods give such copious hints to flourish and +expatiate on as the true miracles of Christ, or of His prophets and +apostles? What do I instance in these few particulars? All the books in +the Bible are either already most admirable and exalted pieces of +poetry, or are the best materials in the world for it. + +"Yet," he adds with great judiciousness, "though they be so proper in +themselves to be made use of for this purpose, none but a good artist +will know how to do it, neither must we think to cut and polish diamonds +with so little pains and skill as we do marble. He who can write a +profane poem well, may write a divine one better; but he who can do that +but ill, will do this much worse, and so far from elevating poesy will +but abase divinity. The same fertility of invention--the same wisdom of +disposition--the same judgment in observance of decencies--the same +lustre and vigour of elocution--the same modesty and majesty of number-- +briefly, the same kind of habit--is required in both, only this latter +allows better stuff, and therefore would look more deformedly drest in +it." + +The errors of a great author are often more valuable than his sound +sentiments; because they tend, by the reaction they provoke, and the +replies they elicit, to dart new light upon the opposite truths. And so +it has been with this dogma of the illustrious Lexicographer. It has led +to some admirable rejoinders from such pens as those of Montgomery, and +of Christopher North, which have not only rebutted Johnson's objections, +but have directed public attention more strongly to the general theme, +and served to shed new light upon the nature and province of religious +poetry. + + + + +CONTENTS. + +WALLER'S POEMS. + + +MISCELLANEOUS:-- + +Of the Danger His Majesty (being Prince) Escaped in the Road at St +Andero. + +Of His Majesty's receiving the News of the Duke of Buckingham's Death + +On the Taking of Salle + +Upon His Majesty's Repairing of St. Paul's + +The Countess of Carlisle in Mourning + +In Answer to One who writ a Libel against the Countess of Carlisle + +Of her Chamber + +Thyrsis, Galatea + +On my Lady Dorothy Sidney's Picture + +At Penshurst + +Of the Lady who can Sleep when she Pleases + +Of the Misreport of her being Painted + +Of her Passing through a Crowd of People + +The Story of Phoebus and Daphne, applied + +On the Friendship betwixt Saccharissa and Amoret + +At Penshurst + +The Battle of the Summer Islands + +Of the Queen + +The Apology of Sleep, for not Approaching the Lady who can do anything +but Sleep when she Pleases + +Puerperium + +A La Malade + +Upon the Death of my Lady Rich + +Of Love + +For Drinking of Healths + +Of my Lady Isabella, Playing on the Lute + +Of Mrs. Arden + +Of the Marriage of the Dwarfs + +Love's Farewell + +From a Child + +On a Girdle + +The Fall + +Of Sylvia + +The Bud + +On the Discovery of a Lady's Painting + +Of Loving at First Sight + +The Self-Banished + +A Panegyric to my Lord Protector, of the Present Greatness, and Joint +Interest, of His Highness, and this Nation + +On the Head of a Stag + +The Miser's Speech, in a Masque + +Chloris and Hylas, made to a Saraband + +In Answer of Sir John Suckling's Verses + +An Apology for having Loved Before + +The Night-Piece; or, a Picture Drawn in the Dark + +On the Picture of a Fair Youth, Taken after he was Dead + +On a Brede of Divers Colours, Woven by Four Ladies + +Of a War with Spain, and Fight at Sea + +Upon the Death of the Lord Protector + +On St. James's Park, as lately Improved by His Majesty + +Of Her Royal Highness, Mother to the Prince of Orange; and of her +Portrait, Written by the Late Duchess of York, while she Lived with her + +Upon Her Majesty's New Buildings at Somerset House + +Of a Tree Cut in Paper + +Verses to Dr. George Rogers, on his Taking the Degree of Doctor of Physic +at Padua, in the Year 1664 + +Instructions to a Painter, for the Drawing of the Posture and Progress +of His Majesty's Forces at Sea, under the Command of His Highness-Royal; +together with the Battle and Victory obtained over the Dutch, June 3, +1665 + +Of English Verse + +These Verses were Writ in the Tasso of Her Royal Highness + +The Triple Combat + +Upon our Late Loss of the Duke of Cambridge + +Of the Lady Mary, Princess of Orange + +Upon Ben Johnson + +On Mr. John Fletcher's Plays + +Upon the Earl of Roscommon's Translation of Horace, 'De Arte Poetica;' +and of the Use of Poetry + +On the Duke of Monmouth's Expedition into Scotland in the Summer +Solstice + +Of an Elegy made by Mrs. Wharton on the Earl of Rochester + +Of Her Majesty, on New-Year's Day, 1683 + +Of Tea, Commended by Her Majesty + +Of the Invasion and Defeat of the Turks, in the Year 1683 + +A Presage of the Ruin of the Turkish Empire; Presented to His Majesty +King James II. on His Birthday + + +EPISTLES:-- + +To the King, on His Navy + +To Mr. Henry Lawes, who had then newly set a Song of mine in the Year +1635 + +The Country to my Lady Carlisle + +To Phyllis + +To the Queen-Mother of France, upon Her Landing + +To Vandyck + +To my Lord of Leicester + +To Mrs. Braughton, Servant to Saccharissa + +To my Young Lady Lucy Sydney + +To Amoret + +To my Lord of Falkland + +To my Lord Northumberland, upon the Death of his Lady + +Lord Admiral, of his late Sickness and Recovery + +To the Queen, occasioned upon sight of Her Majesty's Picture + +To Amoret + +To Phyllis + +To Sir William Davenant, upon his Two First Books of Gondibert + +To my Worthy Friend, Mr. Wase, the Translator of Gratius + +To a Friend, on the different Success of their Loves + +To Zelinda + +To my Lady Morton, on New-Year's Day, at the Louvre in Paris + +To a Fair Lady, Playing with a Snake + +To his Worthy Friend Master Evelyn, upon his Translation of 'Lucretius.' + +To his Worthy Friend Sir Thomas Higgons, upon his Translation of 'The +Venetian Triumph' + +To a Lady Singing a Song of his Composing + +To the Mutable Fair + +To a Lady, from whom he Received a Silver Pen + +To Chloris + +To a Lady in Retirement + +To Mr. George Sandys, on his Translation of some Parts of the Bible + +To the King, upon His Majesty's Happy Return + +To a Lady, from whom he Received the Copy of the Poem entitled, 'Of a +Tree Cut in Paper,' which for many years had been Lost + +To the Queen, upon Her Majesty's Birthday, after Her happy Recovery from +a Dangerous Sickness + +To Mr. Killigrew, upon his Altering his Play, 'Pandora,' from a Tragedy +into a Comedy, because not Approved on the Stage + +To a Person of Honour, upon his Incomparable, Incomprehensible Poem, +entitled, 'The British Princes,' + +To a Friend of the Author, a Person of Honour, who lately Writ a +Religious Book, entitled, 'Historical Applications, and Occasional +Meditations, upon several Subjects + +To the Duchess of Orleans, when she was taking Leave of the Court at +Dover + +To Chloris + +To the King + +To the Duchess, when he Presented this Book to Her Royal Highness + +To Mr. Creech, on his Translation of 'Lucretius' + +SONGS:-- + +Stay, Phoebus + +Peace, Babbling Muse + +Chloris! Farewell + +To Flavia + +Behold the Brand of Beauty Toss'd + +While I Listen to thy Voice + +Go, Lovely Rose + +Sung by Mrs. Knight to Her Majesty, on Her Birthday + +Song + + +PROLOGUES AND EPILOGUE:-- + +Prologue for the Lady-Actors, Spoken before King Charles II + +Prologue to the 'Maid's Tragedy' + +Epilogue to the 'Maid's Tragedy,' Spoken by the the King + +Another Epilogue to the 'Maid's Tragedy,' Designed upon the first +Alteration of the Play, when the King only was left Alive + + +EPIGRAMS, EPITAPHS, AND FRAGMENTS:-- + +Under a Lady's Picture + +Of a Lady who Writ in Praise of Mira + +To One Married to an Old Man + +An Epigram on a Painted Lady with ill Teeth + +Epigram upon the Golden Medal + +Written on a Card that Her Majesty tore at Ombre + +To Mr. Granville (now Lord Lansdowne), on his Verses to King James II + +Long and Short Life + +Translated out of Spanish + +Translated out of French + +Some Verses of an Imperfect Copy, Designed for a Friend, on his +Translation of Ovid's 'Fasti' + +On the Statue of King Charles I., at Charing Cross, in the Year 1674 + +Pride + +Epitaph on Sir George Speke + +Epitaph on Colonel Charles Cavendish + +Epitaph on the Lady Sedley + +Epitaph to be Written under the Latin Inscription upon the Tomb of the +only Son of the Lord Andover + +Epitaph Unfinished + + +DIVINE POEMS:-- + +Of Divine Love + +Of the Fear of God + +Of Divine Poesy + +On the Paraphrase of the Lord's Prayer, Written by Mrs. Wharton + +Some Reflections of his upon the Several Petitions in the same Prayer + +On the Foregoing Divine Poems + + + +DENHAM'S POEMS. + +LIFE OF SIR JOHN DENHAM + + +POEMS UPON SEVERAL OCCASIONS. + +Cooper's Hill + +The Destruction of Troy, an Essay on the 2d Book of Virgil's Eneis + +On the Earl of Stafford's Trial and Death + +On my Lord Croft's and my Journey into Poland + +On Mr. Thomas Killigrew's Return from Venice, and Mr. William Murrey's +from Scotland + +To Sir John Mennis + +Natura Naturata + +Sarpedon's Speech to Glaucus, in the Twelfth Book of Homer + +Friendship and Single Life, against Love and Marriage + +On Mr. Abraham Cowley, his Death, and Burial amongst the Ancient Poets + +A Speech against Peace at the Close Committee + +To the Five Members of the Honourable House of Commons, the humble +Petition of the Poets + +A Western Wonder + +A Second Western Wonder + +A Song + +On Mr. John Fletcher's Works + +To Sir Richard Fanshaw, upon his Translation of 'Pastor Fido' + +To the Hon. Edward Howard, on 'The British Princes' + +An Occasional Imitation of a Modern Author upon the Game of Chess + +The Passion of Dido for Aeneas + +Of Prudence + +Of Justice + +The Progress of Learning + +Elegy on the Death of Helfry Lord Hastings, 1650 + +Of Old Age + + + +THE POETICAL WORKS + +OF + +EDMUND WALLER + + + + +WALLER'S POETICAL WORKS. + +MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. + + + + +OF THE DANGER HIS MAJESTY [BEING PRINCE] ESCAPED IN THE ROAD AT ST +ANDERO.[1] + + +Now bad his Highness bid farewell to Spain, +And reach'd the sphere of his own power--the main; +With British bounty in his ship he feasts +Th' Hesperian princes, his amazed guests, +To find that watery wilderness exceed +The entertainment of their great Madrid. +Healths to both kings, attended with the roar +Of cannons, echo'd from th'affrighted shore, +With loud resemblance of his thunder, prove +Bacchus the seed of cloud-compelling Jove; 10 +While to his harp divine Arion sings[2] +The loves and conquests of our Albion kings. + +Of the Fourth Edward was his noble song, +Fierce, goodly, valiant, beautiful, and young; +He rent the crown from vanquish'd Henry's head, +Raised the White Rose, and trampled on the Red; +Till love, triumphing o'er the victor's pride, +Brought Mars and Warwick to the conquer'd side: +Neglected Warwick (whose bold hand, like Fate, +Gives and resumes the sceptre of our state) 20 +Woos for his master; and with double shame, +Himself deluded, mocks the princely dame, +The Lady Bona, whom just anger burns, +And foreign war with civil rage returns. +Ah! spare your swords, where beauty is to blame; +Love gave th'affront, and must repair the same; +When France shall boast of her, whose conqu'ring eyes +Have made the best of English hearts their prize; +Have power to alter the decrees of Fate, +And change again the counsels of our state. 30 + What the prophetic Muse intends, alone +To him that feels the secret wound is known. + With the sweet sound of this harmonious lay, +About the keel delighted dolphins play, +Too sure a sign of sea's ensuing rage, +Which must anon this royal troop engage; +To whom soft sleep seems more secure and sweet, +Within the town commanded by our fleet. + These mighty peers placed in the gilded barge, +Proud with the burden of so brave a charge, 40 +With painted oars the youths begin to sweep +Neptune's smooth face, and cleave the yielding deep; +Which soon becomes the seat of sudden war +Between the wind and tide that fiercely jar. +As when a sort[3] of lusty shepherds try +Their force at football, care of victory +Makes them salute so rudely breast to breast, 47 +That their encounter seems too rough for jest; +They ply their feet, and still the restless ball, +Toss'd to and fro, is urged by them all: +So fares the doubtful barge 'twixt tide and winds, +And like effect of their contention finds. +Yet the bold Britons still securely row'd; +Charles and his virtue was their sacred load; +Than which a greater pledge Heaven could not give, +That the good boat this tempest should outlive. +But storms increase, and now no hope of grace +Among them shines, save in the Prince's face; +The rest resign their courage, skill, and sight, +To danger, horror, and unwelcome night. 60 +The gentle vessel (wont with state and pride +On the smooth back of silver Thames to ride) +Wanders astonish'd in the angry main, +As Titan's car did, while the golden rein +Fill'd the young hand of his adventurous son,[4] +When the whole world an equal hazard run +To this of ours, the light of whose desire +Waves threaten now, as that was scared by fire. +Th' impatient sea grows impotent, and raves, +That, night assisting, his impetuous waves 70 +Should find resistance from so light a thing; +These surges ruin, those our safety bring. +Th' oppress'd vessel doth the charge abide, +Only because assail'd on every side; +So men with rage and passion set on fire, +Trembling for haste, impeach their mad desire. + +The pale Iberians had expired with fear, +But that their wonder did divert their care, +To see the Prince with danger moved no more +Than with the pleasures of their court before; 80 +Godlike his courage seem'd, whom nor delight +Could soften, nor the face of death affright. +Next to the power of making tempests cease, +Was in that storm to have so calm a peace. +Great Maro could no greater tempest feign, +When the loud winds usurping on the main, +For angry Juno labour'd to destroy +The hated relics of confounded Troy; +His bold Aeneas, on like billows toss'd +In a tall ship, and all his country lost, 90 +Dissolves with fear; and both his hands upheld, +Proclaims them happy whom the Greeks had quell'd +In honourable fight; our hero, set +In a small shallop, Fortune in his debt, +So near a hope of crowns and sceptres, more +Than ever Priam, when he flourish'd, wore; +His loins yet full of ungot princes, all +His glory in the bud, lets nothing fall +That argues fear; if any thought annoys +The gallant youth, 'tis love's untasted joys, 100 +And dear remembrance of that fatal glance, +For which he lately pawn'd his heart[5] in France; +Where he had seen a brighter nymph than she[6] +That sprung out of his present foe, the sea. +That noble ardour, more than mortal fire, +The conquer'd ocean could not make expire; +Nor angry Thetis raise her waves above +Th' heroic Prince's courage or his love; +'Twas indignation, and not fear he felt, +The shrine should perish where that image dwelt. +Ah, Love forbid! the noblest of thy train 111 +Should not survive to let her know his pain; +Who nor his peril minding, nor his flame, +Is entertain'd with some less serious game, +Among the bright nymphs of the Gallic court, +All highly born, obsequious to her sport; +They roses seem, which in their early pride +But half reveal, and half their beauties hide; +She the glad morning, which her beams does throw +Upon their smiling leaves, and gilds them so; 120 +Like bright Aurora, whose refulgent ray +Foretells the fervour of ensuing day, +And warns the shepherd with his flocks retreat +To leafy shadows from the threaten'd heat. + +From Cupid's string, of many shafts that fled +Wing'd with those plumes which noble Fame had shed, +As through the wond'ring world she flew, and told +Of his adventures, haughty, brave, and bold, +Some had already touch'd the royal maid, +But Love's first summons seldom are obey'd; 130 +Light was the wound, the Prince's care unknown, +She might not, would not, yet reveal her own. +His glorious name had so possess'd her ears, +That with delight those antique tales she hears +Of Jason, Theseus, and such worthies old, +As with his story best resemblance hold. +And now she views, as on the wall it hung, +What old Musaeus so divinely sung; +Which art with life and love did so inspire, +That she discerns and favours that desire, 140 +Which there provokes th'advent'rous youth to swim, +And in Leander's danger pities him; +Whose not new love alone, but fortune, seeks +To frame his story like that amorous Greek's. + +For from the stern of some good ship appears +A friendly light, which moderates their fears; +New courage from reviving hope they take, +And climbing o'er the waves that taper make, +On which the hope of all their lives depends, +As his on that fair Hero's hand extends. 150 +The ship at anchor, like a fixed rock, +Breaks the proud billows which her large sides knock; +Whose rage restrained, foaming higher swells, +And from her port the weary barge repels, +Threat'ning to make her, forced out again, +Repeat the dangers of the troubled main. +Twice was the cable hurl'd in vain; the Fates +Would not be moved for our sister states; +For England is the third successful throw, +And then the genius of that land they know, 160 +Whose prince must be (as their own books devise) +Lord of the scene where now his danger lies. + +Well sung the Roman bard, 'All human things +Of dearest value hang on slender strings.' +Oh, see the then sole hope, and, in design +Of Heaven, our joy, supported by a line! +Which for that instant was Heaven's care above +The chain that's fixed to the throne of Jove, +On which the fabric of our world depends; +One link dissolved, the whole creation ends. 170 + +[1] 'St. Andero': St. Andrews. He had newly abandoned his suit + for the Infanta.-- +[2] 'Arion sings': Alluding to the deliverance of Charles I., on his + return from Spain, from a violent storm in the Bay of Biscay, + October 1623. +[3] 'Sort': a company. +[4] 'Adventurous son': Phaeton. +[5] Henrietta, afterwards Queen. +[6] Venus. + + + + +OF HIS MAJESTY'S RECEIVING THE NEWS OF THE DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM'S + + +So earnest with thy God! can no new care, +No sense of danger, interrupt thy prayer? +The sacred wrestler, till a blessing given, +Quits not his hold, but halting conquers Heaven; +Nor was the stream of thy devotion stopp'd, +When from the body such a limb was lopp'd, +As to thy present state was no less maim, +Though thy wise choice has since repair'd the same. +Bold Homer durst not so great virtue feign +In his best pattern:[2] of Patroclus slain, 10 +With such amazement as weak mothers use, +And frantic gesture, he receives the news. +Yet fell his darling by th'impartial chance +Of war, imposed by royal Hector's lance; +Thine, in full peace, and by a vulgar hand +Torn from thy bosom, left his high command. + +The famous painter[3] could allow no place +For private sorrow in a prince's face: +Yet, that his piece might not exceed belief, +He cast a veil upon supposed grief. 20 +'Twas want of such a precedent as this +Made the old heathen frame their gods amiss. +Their Phoebus should not act a fonder part +For the fair boy,[4] than he did for his heart; +Nor blame for Hyacinthus' fate his own, +That kept from him wish'd death, hadst thou been known. + +He that with thine shall weigh good David's deeds, +Shall find his passion, nor his love, exceeds: 28 +He cursed the mountains where his brave friend died, +But let false Ziba with his heir divide; +Where thy immortal love to thy bless'd friends, +Like that of Heaven, upon their seed descends. +Such huge extremes inhabit thy great mind, +Godlike, unmoved, and yet, like woman, kind! +Which of the ancient poets had not brought +Our Charles's pedigree from Heaven, and taught +How some bright dame, compress'd by mighty Jove, +Produced this mix'd Divinity and Love? + +[1] 'Buckingham's death': Buckingham was murdered by Felton at + Portsmouth, on the 23d of August 1628, while equipping a fleet for + the relief of Rochelle. Lord Lindsey succeeded him. The king was at + prayers when the news arrived, and had the resolution to disguise + his emotion till they were over. +[2] 'Pattern': Achilles. +[3] 'Painter': Timanthes in his picture of Iphigenia. +[4] 'Fair boy': Cyparissus. + + + + +ON THE TAKING OF SALLE.[1] + + +Of Jason, Theseus, and such worthies old, +Light seem the tales antiquity has told; +Such beasts and monsters as their force oppress'd, +Some places only, and some times, infest. +Salle, that scorn'd all power and laws of men, +Goods with their owners hurrying to their den, +And future ages threat'ning with a rude +And savage race, successively renew'd; +Their king despising with rebellious pride, +And foes profess'd to all the world beside; 10 +This pest of mankind gives our hero fame, +And through the obliged world dilates his name. + The prophet once to cruel Agag said, +'As thy fierce sword has mothers childless made, +So shall the sword make thine;' and with that word +He hew'd the man in pieces with his sword. + +Just Charles like measure has return'd to these 17 +Whose Pagan hands had stain'd the troubled seas; +With ships they made the spoiled merchant mourn; +With ships their city and themselves are torn. +One squadron of our winged castles sent, +O'erthrew their fort, and all their navy rent; +For, not content the dangers to increase, +And act the part of tempests in the seas, +Like hungry wolves, those pirates from our shore +Whole flocks of sheep, and ravish'd cattle bore. +Safely they might on other nations prey-- +Fools to provoke the sovereign of the sea! +Mad Cacus so, whom like ill fate persuades, +The herd of fair Alcmena's seed invades, 30 +Who for revenge, and mortals' glad relief, +Sack'd the dark cave and crush'd that horrid thief. + +Morocco's monarch, wond'ring at this fact, +Save that his presence his affairs exact, +Had come in person to have seen and known +The injured world's revenger and his own. +Hither he sends the chief among his peers, +Who in his bark proportion'd presents bears, +To the renown'd for piety and force, +Poor captives manumised, and matchless horse.[2] 40 + +[1] 'Salle': Salle, a town of Fez, given to piracy, was taken and + destroyed in 1632 by the army of the Emperor of Morocco, assisted by + some English vessels. +[2] 'Horse': the Emperor of Morocco, in gratitude to Charles, sent him a + present of Barbary horses, and three hundred manumitted Christian + slaves.-- + + + + +UPON HIS MAJESTY'S REPAIRING OF ST PAUL'S.[1] + + +That shipwreck'd vessel which th'Apostle bore, +Scarce suffer'd more upon Melita's shore, +Than did his temple in the sea of time, +Our nation's glory, and our nation's crime. +When the first monarch[2] of this happy isle, +Moved with the ruin of so brave a pile, +This work of cost and piety begun, +To be accomplish'd by his glorious son, +Who all that came within the ample thought +Of his wise sire has to perfection brought; 10 +He, like Amphion, makes those quarries leap +Into fair figures from a confused heap; +For in his art of regiment is found +A power like that of harmony in sound. + +Those antique minstrels, sure, were Charles-like kings, +Cities their lutes, and subjects' hearts their strings, +On which with so divine a hand they strook, +Consent of motion from their breath they took: +So all our minds with his conspire to grace +The Gentiles' great Apostle, and deface 20 +Those state-obscuring sheds, that like a chain +Seem'd to confine and fetter him again; +Which the glad saint shakes off at his command, +As once the viper from his sacred hand: +So joys the aged oak, when we divide +The creeping ivy from his injured side. + +Ambition rather would affect the fame +Of some new structure, to have borne her name. +Two distant virtues in one act we find, +The modesty and greatness of his mind; 30 +Which, not content to be above the rage, +And injury of all-impairing age, +In its own worth secure, doth higher climb, +And things half swallow'd from the jaws of Time + +Reduce; an earnest of his grand design, +To frame no new church, but the old refine; +Which, spouse-like, may with comely grace command, +More than by force of argument or hand. +For doubtful reason few can apprehend, +And war brings ruin where it should amend; 40 +But beauty, with a bloodless conquest finds +A welcome sovereignty in rudest minds. + +Not aught which Sheba's wond'ring queen beheld +Amongst the works of Solomon, excell'd +His ships and building; emblems of a heart +Large both in magnanimity and art. + +While the propitious heavens this work attend, +Long-wanted showers they forget to send; +As if they meant to make it understood +Of more importance than our vital food. 50 + +The sun, which riseth to salute the quire +Already finished, setting shall admire +How private bounty could so far extend: +The King built all, but Charles the western end.[3] +So proud a fabric to devotion given, +At once it threatens and obliges Heaven! + +Laomedon, that had the gods in pay, +Neptune, with him that rules the sacred day,[4] +Could no such structure raise: Troy wall'd so high, +Th' Atrides might as well have forced the sky. 60 + +Glad, though amazed, are our neighbour kings, +To see such power employ'd in peaceful things; +They list not urge it to the dreadful field; +The task is easier to destroy than build. + + ... Sic gratia regum + Pieriis tentam modis...--HORACE. + +[1] 'St. Paul's': these repairs commenced in the spring of 1633. +[2] 'Monarch': King James I. +[3] 'Western end': the western end, built at Charles' own expense, + consisted of a splendid portico, built by Inigo Jones. +[4] 'Sacred day': Apollo. + + + + +THE COUNTESS OF CARLISLE IN MOURNING.[1] + + +When from black clouds no part of sky is clear, +But just so much as lets the sun appear, +Heaven then would seem thy image, and reflect +Those sable vestments, and that bright aspect. +A spark of virtue by the deepest shade +Of sad adversity is fairer made; +Nor less advantage doth thy beauty get, +A Venus rising from a sea of jet! +Such was th'appearance of new-formed light, +While yet it struggled with eternal night. 10 +Then mourn no more, lest thou admit increase +Of glory by thy noble lord's decease. +We find not that the laughter-loving dame[2] +Mourn'd for Anchises; 'twas enough she came +To grace the mortal with her deathless bed, +And that his living eyes such beauty fed; +Had she been there, untimely joy, through all +Men's hearts diffused, had marr'd the funeral. +Those eyes were made to banish grief: as well +Bright Phoebus might affect in shades to dwell, 20 +As they to put on sorrow: nothing stands, +But power to grieve, exempt from thy commands. +If thou lament, thou must do so alone; +Grief in thy presence can lay hold on none. +Yet still persist the memory to love +Of that great Mercury of our mighty Jove, +Who, by the power of his enchanting tongue, +Swords from the hands of threat'ning monarchs wrung. +War he prevented, or soon made it cease, 29 +Instructing princes in the arts of peace; +Such as made Sheba's curious queen resort +To the large-hearted Hebrew's famous court. +Had Homer sat amongst his wond'ring guests, +He might have learn'd at those stupendous feasts, +With greater bounty, and more sacred state, +The banquets of the gods to celebrate. +But oh! what elocution might he use, +What potent charms, that could so soon infuse +His absent master's love into the heart +Of Henrietta! forcing her to part 40 +From her loved brother, country, and the sun, +And, like Camilla, o'er the waves to run +Into his arms! while the Parisian dames +Mourn for the ravish'd glory; at her flames +No less amazed than the amazed stars, +When the bold charmer of Thessalia wars +With Heaven itself, and numbers does repeat, +Which call descending Cynthia from her seat. + +[1] 'Mourning': Carlisle was a luxurious liver, and died in 1636, poor, + but, like many spendthrifts, popular. He had represented Prince + Charles at his marriage with Princess Henrietta at Paris. +[2] 'Dame': Venus. + + + + +IN ANSWER TO ONE WHO WRIT A LIBEL AGAINST THE COUNTESS OF CARLISLE. + + +1 What fury has provoked thy wit to dare, + With Diomede, to wound the Queen of Love? + Thy mistress' envy, or thine own despair? + Not the just Pallas in thy breast did move + So blind a rage, with such a diff'rent fate; + He honour won, where thou hast purchased hate. + +2 She gave assistance to his Trojan foe; + Thou, that without a rival thou may'st love, + Dost to the beauty of this lady owe, + While after her the gazing world does move. + Canst thou not be content to love alone? + Or is thy mistress not content with one? + +3 Hast thou not read of Fairy Arthur's shield, + Which, but disclosed, amazed the weaker eyes + Of proudest foes, and won the doubtful field? + So shall thy rebel wit become her prize. + Should thy iambics swell into a book, + All were confuted with one radiant look. + +4 Heaven he obliged that placed her in the skies; + Rewarding Phoebus, for inspiring so + His noble brain, by likening to those eyes + His joyful beams; but Phoebus is thy foe, + And neither aids thy fancy nor thy sight, + So ill thou rhym'st against so fair a light. + + + + +OF HER CHAMBER. + + +They taste of death that do at heaven arrive; +But we this paradise approach alive. +Instead of death, the dart of love does strike, +And renders all within these walls alike. +The high in titles, and the shepherd, here +Forgets his greatness, and forgets his fear. +All stand amazed, and gazing on the fair, +Lose thought of what themselves or others are; +Ambition lose, and have no other scope, 9 +Save Carlisle's favour, to employ their hope. +The Thracian[1] could (though all those tales were true +The bold Greeks tell) no greater wonders do; +Before his feet so sheep and lions lay, +Fearless and wrathless while they heard him play. +The gay, the wise, the gallant, and the grave, +Subdued alike, all but one passion have; +No worthy mind but finds in hers there is +Something proportion'd to the rule of his; +While she with cheerful, but impartial grace, +(Born for no one, but to delight the race 20 +Of men) like Phoebus so divides her light, +And warms us, that she stoops not from her height. + +[1] 'Thracian': Orpheus.-- + + + + +THYRSIS, GALATEA.[1] + + +THYRSIS. + +As lately I on silver Thames did ride, +Sad Galatea on the bank I spied; +Such was her look as sorrow taught to shine, +And thus she graced me with a voice divine. + +GALATEA. + + You that can tune your sounding strings so well, +Of ladies' beauties, and of love to tell, +Once change your note, and let your lute report +The justest grief that ever touch'd the Court. + +THYRSIS. + + Fair nymph! I have in your delights no share, 9 +Nor ought to be concerned in your care; +Yet would I sing if I your sorrows knew, +And to my aid invoke no Muse but you. + +GALATEA. + + Hear then, and let your song augment our grief, +Which is so great as not to wish relief. +She that had all which Nature gives, or Chance, +Whom Fortune join'd with Virtue to advance +To all the joys this island could afford, +The greatest mistress, and the kindest lord; +Who with the royal mix'd her noble blood, +And in high grace with Gloriana[2] stood; 20 +Her bounty, sweetness, beauty, goodness, such, +That none e'er thought her happiness too much; +So well-inclined her favours to confer, +And kind to all, as Heaven had been to her! +The virgin's part, the mother, and the wife, +So well she acted in this span of life, +That though few years (too flew, alas!) she told, +She seem'd in all things, but in beauty, old. +As unripe fruit, whose verdant stalks do cleave +Close to the tree, which grieves no less to leave 30 +The smiling pendant which adorns her so, +And until autumn on the bough should grow; +So seem'd her youthful soul not eas'ly forced, +Or from so fair, so sweet a seat divorced. +Her fate at once did hasty seem and slow; +At once too cruel, and unwilling too. + +THYRSIS. + + Under how hard a law are mortals born! 37 +Whom now we envy, we anon must mourn; +What Heaven sets highest, and seems most to prize, +Is soon removed from our wond'ring eyes! +But since the Sisters[3] did so soon untwine +So fair a thread, I'll strive to piece the line. +Vouchsafe, sad nymph! to let me know the dame, +And to the Muses I'll commend her name; +Make the wide country echo to your moan, +The list'ning trees and savage mountains groan. +What rock's not moved when the death is sung +Of one so good, so lovely, and so young? + +GALATEA. + + 'Twas Hamilton!--whom I had named before, +But naming her, grief lets me say no more. 50 + +[1] 'Galatea': the lady here mourned was the Duchess of Hamilton, a + niece of Buckingham; she died in 1638. +[2] 'Gloriana': Queen Henrietta. +[3] 'Sisters': Parcae-- + + + + +ON MY LADY DOROTHY SIDNEY'S PICTURE.[1] + + +Such was Philoclea, and such Dorus' flame! +The matchless Sidney, that immortal frame +Of perfect beauty on two pillars placed, +Not his high fancy could one pattern, graced +With such extremes of excellence, compose; +Wonders so distant in one face disclose! +Such cheerful modesty, such humble state, +Moves certain love, but with as doubtful fate +As when, beyond our greedy reach, we see 9 +Inviting fruit on too sublime a tree. +All the rich flowers through his Arcadia found, +Amazed we see in this one garland bound. +Had but this copy (which the artist took +From the fair picture of that noble book) +Stood at Kalander's, the brave friends had jarr'd, +And, rivals made, th'ensuing story marr'd. +Just nature, first instructed by his thought, +In his own house thus practised what he taught; +This glorious piece transcends what he could think, +So much his blood is nobler than his ink![2] 20 + +[1] 'Dorothy Sidney': see Life for an account of 'Saccharissa.' +[2] 'Philoclea and Dorus': the reader may turn for these names and their + histories, to the glorious, flowery wilderness of the 'Arcadia.' + Sidney was granduncle to Dorothy. + + + + +AT PENSHURST. + + +Had Dorothea lived when mortals made +Choice of their deities, this sacred shade +Had held an altar to her power, that gave +The peace and glory which these alleys have; +Embroider'd so with flowers where she stood, +That it became a garden of a wood. +Her presence has such more than human grace, +That it can civilise the rudest place; +And beauty too, and order, can impart, +Where nature ne'er intended it, nor art. 10 +The plants acknowledge this, and her admire, +No less than those of old did Orpheus' lyre; +If she sit down, with tops all tow'rds her bow'd, +They round about her into arbours crowd; +Or if she walk, in even ranks they stand, +Like some well-marshall'd and obsequious band. +Amphion so made stones and timber leap +Into fair figures from a confused heap; +And in the symmetry of her parts is found +A power like that of harmony in sound. 20 + Ye lofty beeches, tell this matchless dame, +That if together ye fed all one flame, +It could not equalise the hundredth part +Of what her eyes have kindled in my heart! +Go, boy, and carve this passion on the bark +Of yonder tree, which stands the sacred mark +Of noble Sidney's birth; when such benign, +Such more than mortal-making stars did shine, +That there they cannot but for ever prove +The monument and pledge of humble love; 30 +His humble love whose hope shall ne'er rise higher, +Than for a pardon that he dares admire. + + + + +OF THE LADY WHO CAN SLEEP WHEN SHE PLEASES.[1] + + +No wonder sleep from careful lovers flies, +To bathe himself in Saccharissa's eyes. +As fair Astraae once from earth to heaven, +By strife and loud impiety was driven; +So with our plaints offended, and our tears, +Wise Somnus to that paradise repairs; +Waits on her will, and wretches does forsake, +To court the nymph for whom those wretches wake. +More proud than Phoebus of his throne of gold 9 +Is the soft god those softer limbs to hold; +Nor would exchange with Jove, to hide the skies +In dark'ning clouds, the power to close her eyes; +Eyes which so far all other lights control, +They warm our mortal parts, but these our soul! + Let her free spirit, whose unconquer'd breast +Holds such deep quiet and untroubled rest, +Know that though Venus and her son should spare +Her rebel heart, and never teach her care, +Yet Hymen may in force his vigils keep, +And for another's joy suspend her sleep. 20 + +[1] She is said to have been like Dudu-- + + 'Large, and languishing, and lazy, + Yet of a beauty that might drive you crazy.' + + + + +OF THE MISREPORT OF HER BEING PAINTED. + + +As when a sort of wolves infest the night +With their wild howlings at fair Cynthia's light, +The noise may chase sweet slumber from our eyes, +But never reach the mistress of the skies; +So with the news of Saccharissa's wrongs, +Her vexed servants blame those envious tongues; +Call Love to witness that no painted fire +Can scorch men so, or kindle such desire; +While, unconcern'd, she seems moved no more +With this new malice than our loves before; 10 +But from the height of her great mind looks down +On both our passions without smile or frown. +So little care of what is done below +Hath the bright dame whom Heaven affecteth so! +Paints her, 'tis true, with the same hand which spreads +Like glorious colours through the flow'ry meads, +When lavish Nature, with her best attire, 17 +Clothes the gay spring, the season of desire; +Paints her, 'tis true, and does her cheek adorn +With the same art wherewith she paints the morn; +With the same art wherewith she gildeth so +Those painted clouds which form Thaumantias' bow. + + + + +OF HER PASSING THROUGH A CROWD OF PEOPLE. + + +As in old chaos (heaven with earth confused, +And stars with rocks together crush'd and bruised) +The sun his light no further could extend +Than the next hill, which on his shoulders lean'd; +So in this throng bright Saccharissa fared, +Oppress'd by those who strove to be her guard; +As ships, though never so obsequious, fall +Foul in a tempest on their admiral. +A greater favour this disorder brought +Unto her servants than their awful thought 10 +Durst entertain, when thus compell'd they press'd +The yielding marble of her snowy breast. +While love insults,[1] disguised in the cloud, +And welcome force, of that unruly crowd. +So th'am'rous tree, while yet the air is calm, +Just distance keeps from his desired palm;[2] +But when the wind her ravish'd branches throws +Into his arms, and mingles all their boughs, +Though loth he seems her tender leaves to press, 19 +More loth he is that friendly storm should cease, +From whose rude bounty he the double use +At once receives, of pleasure and excuse. + +[1] 'Insults': exults. +[2] 'Palm': Ovalle informs us that the palm-trees in Chili have this + wonderful property, that they never will bear any fruit but when + they are planted near each other; and when they find one standing + barren by itself, if they plant another, be it never so small (which + they call the female), it will become prolific.--FENTON. + + + + +THE STORY OF PHOEBUS AND DAPHNE,[1] APPLIED. + + +Thyrsis, a youth of the inspired train, +Fair Saccharissa loved, but loved in vain; +Like Phoebus sung the no less am'rous boy; +Like Daphne she, as lovely, and as coy! +With numbers he the flying nymph pursues, +With numbers such as Phoebus' self might use! +Such is the chase when Love and Fancy leads, +O'er craggy mountains, and through flow'ry meads; +Invoked to testify the lover's care, +Or form some image of his cruel fair. 10 +Urged with his fury, like a wounded deer, +O'er these he fled; and now approaching near, +Had reach'd the nymph with his harmonious lay, +Whom all his charms could not incline to stay. +Yet what he sung in his immortal strain, +Though unsuccessful, was not sung in vain; +All, but the nymph that should redress his wrong, +Attend his passion, and approve his song. +Like Phoebus thus, acquiring unsought praise, +He catch'd at love, and fill'd his arms with bays.[1] 20 + +[1] 'Daphne': Ovid's _Metamorphoses_, b. i. + + + + +ON THE FRIENDSHIP BETWIXT SACCHARISSA AND AMORET. + + +1 Tell me, lovely, loving pair! + Why so kind, and so severe? + Why so careless of our care, + Only to yourselves so dear? + +2 By this cunning change of hearts, + You the power of Love control; + While the boy's deluded darts + Can arrive at neither soul. + +3 For in vain to either breast + Still beguiled Love does come, + Where he finds a foreign guest, + Neither of your hearts at home. + +4 Debtors thus with like design, + When they never mean to pay, + That they may the law decline, + To some friend make all away. + +5 Not the silver doves that fly, + Yoked in Cytherea's car; + Not the wings that lift so high, + And convey her son so far; + +6 Are so lovely, sweet, and fair, + Or do more ennoble love; + Are so choicely match'd a pair, + Or with more consent do move. + + + + +AT PENSHURST.[1] + + +While in this park I sing, the list'ning deer +Attend my passion, and forget to fear; +When to the beeches I report my flame, +They bow their heads, as if they felt the same. +To gods appealing, when I reach their bowers +With loud complaints, they answer me in showers. +To thee a wild and cruel soul is given, +More deaf than trees, and prouder than the heaven! +Love's foe profess'd! why dost thou falsely feign +Thyself a Sidney? from which noble strain 10 +He sprung,[2] that could so far exalt the name +Of love, and warm our nation with his flame; +That all we can of love, or high desire, +Seems but the smoke of am'rous Sidney's fire. +Nor call her mother, who so well does prove +One breast may hold both chastity and love. +Never can she, that so exceeds the spring +In joy and bounty, be supposed to bring +One so destructive. To no human stock +We owe this fierce unkindness, but the rock, 20 +That cloven rock produced thee, by whose side +Nature, to recompense the fatal pride +Of such stern beauty, placed those healing springs,[3] +Which not more help, than that destruction, brings. +Thy heart no ruder than the rugged stone, +I might, like Orpheus, with my num'rous moan +Melt to compassion; now, my trait'rous song +With thee conspires to do the singer wrong; +While thus I suffer not myself to lose 29 +The memory of what augments my woes; +But with my own breath still foment the fire, +Which flames as high as fancy can aspire! + +This last complaint th'indulgent ears did pierce +Of just Apollo, president of verse; +Highly concerned that the Muse should bring +Damage to one whom he had taught to sing, +Thus he advised me: 'On yon aged tree +Hang up thy lute, and hie thee to the sea, +That there with wonders thy diverted mind +Some truce, at least, may with this passion find.' 40 +Ah, cruel nymph! from whom her humble swain +Flies for relief unto the raging main, +And from the winds and tempests does expect +A milder fate than from her cold neglect! +Yet there he'll pray that the unkind may prove +Bless'd in her choice; and vows this endless love +Springs from no hope of what she can confer, +But from those gifts which Heaven has heap'd on her. + +[1] 'Penshurst': his farewell verses to Dorothy. +[2] 'Sprung': Sir Philip Sidney. +[3] 'Springs': Tunbridge Wells. + + + + +THE BATTLE OF THE SUMMER ISLANDS.[1] + +CANTO I. + + What fruits they have, and how Heaven smiles + Upon these late-discovered isles. + + +Aid me, Bellona! while the dreadful fight +Betwixt a nation and two whales I write. +Seas stain'd with gore I sing, advent'rous toil! +And how these monsters did disarm an isle. + +Bermuda, wall'd with rocks, who does not know? +That happy island where huge lemons grow, +And orange-trees, which golden fruit do bear, +Th' Hesperian garden boasts of none so fair; +Where shining pearl, coral, and many a pound, +On the rich shore, of ambergris is found. 10 +The lofty cedar, which to heaven aspires, +The prince of trees! is fuel to their fires; +The smoke by which their loaded spits do turn, +For incense might on sacred altars burn; +Their private roofs on od'rous timber borne, +Such as might palaces for kings adorn. +The sweet palmettos a new Bacchus yield,[2] +With leaves as ample as the broadest shield, +Under the shadow of whose friendly boughs +They sit, carousing where their liquor grows. 20 +Figs there unplanted through the fields do grow, +Such as fierce Cato did the Romans show, +With the rare fruit inviting them to spoil +Carthage, the mistress of so rich a soil. +The naked rocks are not unfruitful there, +But, at some constant seasons, every year, +Their barren tops with luscious food abound, +And with the eggs of various fowls are crown'd. +Tobacco is the worst of things, which they +To English landlords, as their tribute, pay. 30 +Such is the mould, that the bless'd tenant feeds +On precious fruits, and pays his rent in weeds. +With candied plantains, and the juicy pine, +On choicest melons, and sweet grapes, they dine, +And with potatoes fat their wanton swine. +Nature these cates with such a lavish hand +Pours out among them, that our coarser land +Tastes of that bounty, and does cloth return, +Which not for warmth, but ornament, is worn; +For the kind spring, which but salutes us here, 40 +Inhabits there, and courts them all the year. +Ripe fruits and blossoms on the same trees live; +At once they promise what at once they give. +So sweet the air, so moderate the clime, +None sickly lives, or dies before his time. +Heaven sure has kept this spot of earth uncursed, +To show how all things were created first. +The tardy plants in our cold orchards placed, +Reserve their fruit for the next age's taste; +There a small grain in some few months will be 50 +A firm, a lofty, and a spacious tree. +The palma-christi, and the fair papa, +Now but a seed (preventing nature's law), +In half the circle of the hasty year +Project a shade, and lovely fruits do wear. +And as their trees in our dull region set, +But faintly grow, and no perfection get, +So, in this northern tract, our hoarser throats +Utter unripe and ill-constrained notes, +While the supporter of the poets' style, 60 +Phoebus, on them eternally does smile. +Oh! how I long my careless limbs to lay +Under the plantain's shade, and all the day +With am'rous airs my fancy entertain, +Invoke the Muses, and improve my vein! +No passion there in my free breast should move, +None but the sweet and best of passions, love. + +There while I sing, if gentle love be by, 68 +That tunes my lute, and winds the string so high, +With the sweet sound of Saccharissa's name +I'll make the list'ning savages grow tame.-- +But while I do these pleasing dreams indite, +I am diverted from the promised fight. + +[1] 'Summer Islands': the Bermudas, which received the name of the + Summer Islands, or more properly, Somers' Islands, from Sir George + Somers, who was cast away on the coast early in the seventeenth + century, and established a colony there. + +[2] 'Bacchus yield': from the palmetto, a species of palm in the West + Indies, is extracted an intoxicating drink. + + + +CANTO II. + + Of their alarm, and how their foes + Discover'd were, this Canto shows. + + +Though rocks so high about this island rise, +That well they may the num'rous Turk despise, +Yet is no human fate exempt from fear, +Which shakes their hearts, while through the isle they hear +A lasting noise, as horrid and as loud +As thunder makes before it breaks the cloud. +Three days they dread this murmur, ere they know 80 +From what blind cause th'unwonted sound may grow. +At length two monsters of unequal size, +Hard by the shore, a fisherman espies; +Two mighty whales! which swelling seas had toss'd, +And left them pris'ners on the rocky coast. +One as a mountain vast, and with her came +A cub, not much inferior to his dam. +Here in a pool, among the rocks engaged, +They roar'd like lions caught in toils, and raged. +The man knew what they were, who heretofore 90 +Had seen the like lie murder'd on the shore; +By the wild fury of some tempest cast, +The fate of ships, and shipwreck'd men, to taste. +As careless dames, whom wine and sleep betray +To frantic dreams, their infants overlay: +So there, sometimes, the raging ocean fails, +And her own brood exposes; when the whales +Against sharp rocks, like reeling vessels quash'd, +Though huge as mountains, are in pieces dash'd; +Along the shore their dreadful limbs lie scatter'd, 100 +Like hills with earthquakes shaken, torn, and shatter'd. +Hearts, sure, of brass they had, who tempted first +Rude seas that spare not what themselves have nursed. +The welcome news through all the nation spread, +To sudden joy and hope converts their dread; +What lately was their public terror, they +Behold with glad eyes as a certain prey; +Dispose already of th'untaken spoil, +And as the purchase of their future toil, +These share the bones, and they divide the oil. 110 +So was the huntsman by the bear oppress'd, +Whose hide he sold--before he caught the beast! + +They man their boats, and all their young men arm +With whatsoever may the monsters harm; +Pikes, halberts, spits, and darts that wound so far, +The tools of peace, and instruments of war. +Now was the time for vig'rous lads to show +What love, or honour, could incite them to; +A goodly theatre! where rocks are round +With rev'rend age, and lovely lasses, crown'd. 120 +Such was the lake which held this dreadful pair, +Within the bounds of noble Warwick's share:[1] +Warwick's bold Earl! than which no title bears +A greater sound among our British peers; +And worthy he the memory to renew, +The fate and honour to that title due, +Whose brave adventures have transferr'd his name, 127 +And through the new world spread his growing fame.-- + +But how they fought, and what their valour gain'd, +Shall in another Canto be contain'd. + +[1] 'Warwick's share': Robert Rich, Earl of Warwick, possessed a portion + of the Bermudas, which bore his name. He was a jolly sailor in his + habits, although a Puritan in his profession. + + + +CANTO III. + + The bloody fight, successless toil, + And how the fishes sack'd the isle. + + +The boat which, on the first assault did go, +Struck with a harping-iron the younger foe; +Who, when he felt his side so rudely gored, +Loud as the sea that nourished him he roar'd. +As a broad bream, to please some curious taste, +While yet alive, in boiling water cast, +Vex'd with unwonted heat he flings about +The scorching brass, and hurls the liquor out; +So with the barbed jav'lin stung, he raves, +And scourges with his tail the suffering waves. 140 +Like Spenser's Talus with his iron flail, +He threatens ruin with his pond'rous tail; +Dissolving at one stroke the batter'd boat, +And down the men fall drenched in the moat; +With every fierce encounter they are forced +To quit their boats, and fare like men unhorsed. + +The bigger whale like some huge carrack lay, +Which wanteth sea-room with her foes to play; +Slowly she swims; and when, provoked, she would +Advance her tail, her head salutes the mud; 150 +The shallow water doth her force infringe, +And renders vain her tail's impetuous swinge; +The shining steel her tender sides receive, +And there, like bees, they all their weapons leave. + + This sees the cub, and does himself oppose +Betwixt his cumber'd mother and her foes; +With desp'rate courage he receives her wounds, +And men and boats his active tail confounds. +Their forces join'd, the seas with billows fill, +And make a tempest, though the winds be still. 160 + Now would the men with half their hoped prey +Be well content, and wish this cub away; +Their wish they have: he (to direct his dam +Unto the gap through which they thither came) +Before her swims, and quits the hostile lake, +A pris'ner there but for his mother's sake. +She, by the rocks compell'd to stay behind, +Is by the vastness of her bulk confined. +They shout for joy! and now on her alone +Their fury falls, and all their darts are thrown. 170 +Their lances spent, one, bolder than the rest, +With his broad sword provoked the sluggish beast; +Her oily side devours both blade and haft, +And there his steel the bold Bermudan left. +Courage the rest from his example take, +And now they change the colour of the lake; +Blood flows in rivers from her wounded side, +As if they would prevent the tardy tide, +And raise the flood to that propitious height, +As might convey her from this fatal strait. 180 +She swims in blood, and blood does spouting throw +To heaven, that heaven men's cruelties might know. +Their fixed jav'lins in her side she wears, +And on her back a grove of pikes appears; +You would have thought, had you the monster seen +Thus dress'd, she had another island been: +Roaring she tears the air with such a noise, +As well resembled the conspiring voice +Of routed armies, when the field is won, 189 +To reach the ears of her escaped son. +He, though a league removed from the foe, +Hastes to her aid; the pious Trojan[1] so, +Neglecting for Creusa's life his own, +Repeats the danger of the burning town. +The men, amazed, blush to see the seed +Of monsters human piety exceed. +Well proves this kindness, what the Grecian sung, +That love's bright mother from the ocean sprung. +Their courage droops, and hopeless now, they wish +For composition with th'unconquered fish; 200 +So she their weapons would restore again, +Through rocks they'd hew her passage to the main. +But how instructed in each other's mind? +Or what commerce can men with monsters find? +Not daring to approach their wounded foe, +Whom her courageous son protected so, +They charge their muskets, and, with hot desire +Of fell revenge, renew the fight with fire; +Standing aloof, with lead they bruise the scales, +And tear the flesh of the incensed whales. 210 +But no success their fierce endeavours found, +Nor this way could they give one fatal wound. +Now to their fort they are about to send +For the loud engines which their isle defend; +But what those pieces framed to batter walls, +Would have effected on those mighty whales, +Great Neptune will not have us know, who sends +A tide so high that it relieves his friends. +And thus they parted with exchange of harms; +Much blood the monsters lost, and they their arms. 220 + +[1] 'Trojan': Aeneas. + + + + +OF THE QUEEN. + + +The lark, that shuns on lofty boughs to build +Her humble nest, lies silent in the field; +But if (the promise of a cloudless day) +Aurora smiling bids her rise and play, +Then straight she shows 'twas not for want of voice, +Or power to climb, she made so low a choice; +Singing she mounts; her airy wings are stretch'd +T'wards heaven, as if from heaven her note she fetch'd. + +So we, retiring from the busy throng, +Use to restrain the ambition of our song; 10 +But since the light which now informs our age +Breaks from the Court, indulgent to her rage, +Thither my Muse, like bold Prometheus, flies, +To light her torch at Gloriana's eyes; +Those sov'reign beams which heal the wounded soul, +And all our cares, but once beheld, control! +There the poor lover that has long endured +Some proud nymph's scorn, of his fond passion cured, +Fares like the man who first upon the ground +A glow-worm spied, supposing he had found 20 +A moving diamond, a breathing stone; +For life it had, and like those jewels shone; +He held it dear, till by the springing day +Inform'd, he threw the worthless worm away. + +She saves the lover as we gangrenes stay, +By cutting hope, like a lopp'd limb, away; +This makes her bleeding patients to accuse +High Heaven, and these expostulations use: +'Could Nature then no private woman grace, +Whom we might dare to love, with such a face, 30 +Such a complexion, and so radiant eyes, +Such lovely motion, and such sharp replies? +Beyond our reach, and yet within our sight, +What envious power has placed this glorious light?' + +Thus, in a starry night, fond children cry +For the rich spangles that adorn the sky, +Which, though they shine for ever fixed there, +With light and influence relieve us here. +All her affections are to one inclined; +Her bounty and compassion to mankind; 40 +To whom, while she so far extends her grace, +She makes but good the promise of her face; +For Mercy has, could Mercy's self be seen, +No sweeter look than this propitious queen. +Such guard, and comfort, the distressed find +From her large power, and from her larger mind, +That whom ill Fate would ruin, it prefers, +For all the miserable are made hers. +So the fair tree whereon the eagle builds, +Poor sheep from tempests, and their shepherds, shields; 50 +The royal bird possesses all the boughs, +But shade and shelter to the flock allows. + +Joy of our age, and safety of the next! +For which so oft thy fertile womb is vex'd; +Nobly contented, for the public good, +To waste thy spirits and diffuse thy blood, +What vast hopes may these islands entertain, +Where monarchs, thus descended, are to reign? +Led by commanders of so fair a line, +Our seas no longer shall our power confine. 60 + +A brave romance who would exactly frame, +First brings his knight from some immortal dame, +And then a weapon, and a flaming shield, +Bright as his mother's eyes, he makes him wield. +None might the mother of Achilles be, +But the fair pearl and glory of the sea;[1] +The man to whom great Maro gives such fame,[2] +From the high bed of heavenly Venus came; +And our next Charles, whom all the stars design +Like wonders to accomplish, springs from thine. 70 + +[1] 'Sea': Thetis +[2] 'Maro': Aeneas + + + + +THE APOLOGY OF SLEEP, +FOR NOT APPROACHING THE LADY WHO CAN DO ANYTHING BUT SLEEP WHEN SHE +PLEASES. + + +My charge it is those breaches to repair +Which Nature takes from sorrow, toil, and care; +Rest to the limbs, and quiet I confer +On troubled minds; but nought can add to her +Whom Heaven, and her transcendent thoughts have placed +Above those ills which wretched mortals taste. + +Bright as the deathless gods, and happy, she +From all that may infringe delight is free; +Love at her royal feet his quiver lays, +And not his mother with more haste obeys. 10 +Such real pleasures, such true joys' suspense, +What dream can I present to recompense? + +Should I with lightning fill her awful hand, +And make the clouds seem all at her command; +Or place her in Olympus' top, a guest +Among the immortals, who with nectar feast; +That power would seem, that entertainment, short +Of the true splendour of her present Court, + +Where all the joys, and all the glories, are 19 +Of three great kingdoms, sever'd from the care. +I, that of fumes and humid vapours made, +Ascending, do the seat of sense invade, +No cloud in so serene a mansion find, +To overcast her ever-shining mind, + +Which holds resemblance with those spotless skies, +Where flowing Nilus want of rain supplies; +That crystal heaven, where Phoebus never shrouds +His golden beams, nor wraps his face in clouds. +But what so hard which numbers cannot force? +So stoops the moon, and rivers change their course. 30 + +The bold Maeonian[1] made me dare to steep +Jove's dreadful temples in the dew of sleep; +And since the Muses do invoke my power, +I shall no more decline that sacred bower +Where Gloriana their great mistress lies; +But, gently taming those victorious eyes, + +Charm all her senses, till the joyful sun +Without a rival half his course has run; +Who, while my hand that fairer light confines, +May boast himself the brightest thing that shines. 40 + +[1] 'Maeonian': Homer. + + + + +PUERPERIUM.[1] + + +1 You gods that have the power + To trouble and compose + All that's beneath your bower, + Calm silence on the seas, on earth impose. + +2 Fair Venus! in thy soft arms + The God of Rage confine; + For thy whispers are the charms + Which only can divert his fierce design. + +3 What though he frown, and to tumult do incline? + Thou the flame + Kindled in his breast canst tame, + With that snow which unmelted lies on thine. + +4 Great goddess! give this thy sacred island rest; + Make heaven smile, + That no storm disturb us while + Thy chief care, our halcyon, builds her nest. + +5 Great Gloriana! fair Gloriana! + Bright as high heaven is, and fertile as earth, + Whose beauty relieves us, + Whose royal bed gives us + Both glory and peace, + Our present joy, and all our hopes' increase. + +[1] 'Puerperium ': Fenton conjectures that this poem was written in + 1640, when the Queen was delivered of her fourth son, the Duke of + Gloucester. + + + + +A LA MALADE. + + +Ah, lovely Amoret! the care +Of all that know what's good or fair! +Is heaven become our rival too? +Had the rich gifts conferr'd on you +So amply thence, the common end +Of giving lovers--to pretend? + Hence, to this pining sickness (meant +To weary thee to a consent +Of leaving us) no power is given 9 +Thy beauties to impair; for heaven +Solicits thee with such a care, +As roses from their stalks we tear, +When we would still preserve them new +And fresh, as on the bush they grew. + +With such a grace you entertain, +And look with such contempt on pain, +That languishing you conquer more, +And wound us deeper than before. +So lightnings which in storms appear, +Scorch more than when the skies are clear. 20 + +And as pale sickness does invade +Your frailer part, the breaches made +In that fair lodging, still more clear +Make the bright guest, your soul, appear. +So nymphs o'er pathless mountains borne, +Their light robes by the brambles torn +From their fair limbs, exposing new +And unknown beauties to the view +Of following gods, increase their flame +And haste to catch the flying game. 30 + + + + +UPON THE DEATH OF MY LADY RICH.[1] + + +May those already cursed Essexian plains, +Where hasty death and pining sickness reigns, +Prove all a desert! and none there make stay, +But savage beasts, or men as wild as they! +There the fair light which all our island graced, +Like Hero's taper in the window placed, +Such fate from the malignant air did find, 7 +As that exposed to the boist'rous wind. + +Ah, cruel Heaven! to snatch so soon away +Her for whose life, had we had time to pray, +With thousand vows and tears we should have sought +That sad decree's suspension to have wrought. +But we, alas! no whisper of her pain +Heard, till 'twas sin to wish her here again. +That horrid word, at once, like lightning spread, +Struck all our ears--The Lady Rich is dead! +Heart-rending news! and dreadful to those few +Who her resemble, and her steps pursue; +That death should license have to rage among +The fair, the wise, the virtuous, and the young! 20 + +The Paphian queen from that fierce battle borne, +With gored hand, and veil so rudely torn, +Like terror did among th'immortals breed, +Taught by her wound that goddesses may bleed. + +All stand amazed! but beyond the rest +th'heroic dame whose happy womb she bless'd,[2] +Moved with just grief, expostulates with Heaven, +Urging the promise to th'obsequious given, +Of longer life; for ne'er was pious soul +More apt t'obey, more worthy to control. 30 +A skilful eye at once might read the race +Of Caledonian monarchs in her face, +And sweet humility; her look and mind +At once were lofty, and at once were kind. +There dwelt the scorn of vice, and pity too, +For those that did what she disdain'd to do; +So gentle and severe, that what was bad, +At once her hatred and her pardon had. + +Gracious to all; but where her love was due, 39 +So fast, so faithful, loyal, and so true, +That a bold hand as soon might hope to force +The rolling lights of heaven, as change her course. + +Some happy angel, that beholds her there, +Instruct us to record what she was here! +And when this cloud of sorrow's overblown, +Through the wide world we'll make her graces known. +So fresh the wound is, and the grief so vast, +That all our art and power of speech is waste. +Here passion sways, but there the Muse shall raise +Eternal monuments of louder praise. 50 + +There our delight, complying with her fame, +Shall have occasion to recite thy name, +Fair Saccharissa!--and now only fair! +To sacred friendship we'll an altar rear +(Such as the Romans did erect of old), +Where, on a marble pillar, shall be told +The lovely passion each to other bare, +With the resemblance of that matchless pair. +Narcissus to the thing for which he pined +Was not more like than yours to her fair mind, 60 +Save that she graced the several parts of life, +A spotless virgin, and a faultless wife. +Such was the sweet converse 'twixt her and you, +As that she holds with her associates now. + +How false is hope, and how regardless fate, +That such a love should have so short a date! +Lately I saw her, sighing, part from thee; +(Alas that that the last farewell should be!) +So looked Astraea, her remove design'd, +On those distressed friends she left behind. 70 +Consent in virtue knit your hearts so fast, +That still the knot, in spite of death, does last; +For as your tears, and sorrow-wounded soul, +Prove well that on your part this bond is whole, +So all we know of what they do above, +Is that they happy are, and that they love. +Let dark oblivion, and the hollow grave, +Content themselves our frailer thoughts to have; +Well-chosen love is never taught to die, +But with our nobler part invades the sky. 80 +Then grieve no more that one so heavenly shaped +The crooked hand of trembling age escaped; +Rather, since we beheld her not decay, +But that she vanish'd so entire away, +Her wondrous beauty, and her goodness, merit +We should suppose that some propitious spirit +In that celestial form frequented here, +And is not dead, but ceases to appear. + +[1] 'Lady Rich': she was the daughter of the Earl of Devonshire, and + married to the heir of the Earl of Warwick. +[2] 'Womb she blessed': the Countess of Devonshire, a very old woman, + the only daughter of Lord Bruce, descended from Robert the Bruce. + + + + +OF LOVE. + + +Anger, in hasty words or blows, +Itself discharges on our foes; +And sorrow, too, finds some relief +In tears, which wait upon our grief; +So every passion, but fond love, +Unto its own redress does move; +But that alone the wretch inclines +To what prevents his own designs; +Makes him lament, and sigh, and weep, +Disorder'd, tremble, fawn, and creep; 10 +Postures which render him despised, +Where he endeavours to be prized. + +For women (born to be controll'd) +Stoop to the forward and the bold; +Affect the haughty and the proud, +The gay, the frolic, and the loud. +Who first the gen'rous steed oppress'd, +Not kneeling did salute the beast; +But with high courage, life, and force, +Approaching, tamed th'unruly horse. 20 + +Unwisely we the wiser East +Pity, supposing them oppress'd +With tyrants' force, whose law is will, +By which they govern, spoil and kill: +Each nymph, but moderately fair, +Commands with no less rigour here. +Should some brave Turk, that walks among +His twenty lasses, bright and young, +And beckons to the willing dame, +Preferr'd to quench his present flame, 30 +Behold as many gallants here, +With modest guise and silent fear, +All to one female idol bend, +While her high pride does scarce descend +To mark their follies, he would swear +That these her guard of eunuchs were, +And that a more majestic queen, +Or humbler slaves, he had not seen. + +All this with indignation spoke, +In vain I struggled with the yoke 40 +Of mighty Love; that conqu'ring look, +When next beheld, like lightning strook +My blasted soul, and made me bow +Lower than those I pitied now. + +So the tall stag, upon the brink +Of some smooth stream about to drink, +Surveying there his armed head, 47 +With shame remembers that he fled +The scorned dogs, resolves to try +The combat next; but if their cry +Invades again his trembling ear, +He straight resumes his wonted care, +Leaves the untasted spring behind, +And, wing'd with fear, outflies the wind. + + + + +FOR DRINKING OF HEALTHS. + + +Let brutes and vegetals, that cannot think, +So far as drought and nature urges, drink; +A more indulgent mistress guides our sp'rits, +Reason, that dares beyond our appetites; +(She would our care, as well as thirst, redress), +And with divinity rewards excess. +Deserted Ariadne, thus supplied, +Did perjured Theseus' cruelty deride; +Bacchus embraced, from her exalted thought +Banish'd the man, her passion, and his fault. 10 +Bacchus and Phoebus are by Jove allied, +And each by other's timely heat supplied; +All that the grapes owe to his rip'ning fires +Is paid in numbers which their juice inspires. +Wine fills the veins, and healths are understood +To give our friends a title to our blood; +Who, naming me, doth warm his courage so, +Shows for my sake what his bold hand would do. + + + + +OF MY LADY ISABELLA, PLAYING ON THE LUTE. + + +Such moving sounds from such a careless touch! +So unconcern'd herself, and we so much! +What art is this, that with so little pains +Transports us thus, and o'er our spirits reigns? +The trembling strings about her fingers crowd, +And tell their joy for every kiss aloud. +Small force there needs to make them tremble so; +Touch'd by that hand, who would not tremble too? +Here Love takes stand, and while she charms the ear, +Empties his quiver on the list'ning deer. 10 +Music so softens and disarms the mind, +That not an arrow does resistance find. +Thus the fair tyrant celebrates the prize, +And acts herself the triumph of her eyes: +So Nero once, with harp in hand, survey'd +His flaming Rome, and as it burn'd he play'd. + + + + +OF MRS ARDEN.[1] + + +Behold, and listen, while the fair +Breaks in sweet sounds the willing air, +And with her own breath fans the fire +Which her bright eyes do first inspire. +What reason can that love control, +Which more than one way courts the soul? + +So when a flash of lightning falls +On our abodes, the danger calls +For human aid, which hopes the flame 9 +To conquer, though from heaven it came; +But if the winds with that conspire, +Men strive not, but deplore the fire. + +[1] 'Mrs. Arden': some suggest that this lady was probably either a maid + of honour, or a gentlewoman of the bed-chamber to King Charles the + First's Queen. + + + + +OF THE MARRIAGE OF THE DWARFS.[1] + + +Design, or chance, makes others wive; +But Nature did this match contrive; +Eve might as well have Adam fled, +As she denied her little bed +To him, for whom Heaven seemed to frame, +And measure out, this only dame. + +Thrice happy is that humble pair, +Beneath the level of all care! +Over whose heads those arrows fly +Of sad distrust and jealousy; 10 +Secured in as high extreme, +As if the world held none but them. + +To him the fairest nymphs do show +Like moving mountains, topp'd with snow; +And every man a Polypheme +Does to his Galatea seem; +None may presume her faith to prove; +He proffers death that proffers love. + +Ah, Chloris! that kind Nature thus +From all the world had severed us; 20 +Creating for ourselves us two, +As love has me for only you! + +[1] 'Dwarfs': Gibson and Shepherd, each three feet ten inches in height. + They were pages at Court, and Charles I. gave away the female + infinitesimal. + + + + +LOVE'S FAREWELL. + + +1 Treading the path to nobler ends, + A long farewell to love I gave, + Resolved my country, and my friends, + All that remain'd of me should have. + +2 And this resolve no mortal dame, + None but those eyes could have o'erthrown; + The nymph I dare not, need not name, + So high, so like herself alone. + +3 Thus the tall oak, which now aspires + Above the fear of private fires, + Grown and design'd for nobler use, + Not to make warm, but build the house, + Though from our meaner flames secure, + Must that which falls from heaven endure. + + + + +FROM A CHILD. + + +Madam, as in some climes the warmer sun +Makes it full summer ere the spring's begun, +And with ripe fruit the bending boughs can load, +Before our violets dare look abroad; +So measure not by any common use +The early love your brighter eyes produce. +When lately your fair hand in woman's weed +Wrapp'd my glad head, I wish'd me so indeed, +That hasty time might never make me grow +Out of those favours you afford me now; 10 +That I might ever such indulgence find, +And you not blush, nor think yourself too kind; +Who now, I fear, while I these joys express, +Begin to think how you may make them less. +The sound of love makes your soft heart afraid, +And guard itself, though but a child invade, +And innocently at your white breast throw +A dart as white-a ball of new fallen snow. + + + + +ON A GIRDLE. + + + That which her slender waist confined, +Shall now my joyful temples bind; +No monarch but would give his crown, +His arms might do what this has done. + + It was my heaven's extremest sphere, +The pale which held that lovely deer. +My joy, my grief, my hope, my love, +Did all within this circle move! + + A narrow compass! and yet there +Dwelt all that's good, and all that's fair; +Give me but what this ribband bound, +Take all the rest the sun goes round. + + + + +THE FALL. + + +See! how the willing earth gave way, +To take th'impression where she lay. +See! how the mould, as both to leave +So sweet a burden, still doth cleave +Close to the nymph's stain'd garment. Here +The coming spring would first appear, +And all this place with roses strow, +If busy feet would let them grow. + Here Venus smiled to see blind chance +Itself before her son advance, 10 +And a fair image to present, +Of what the boy so long had meant. +'Twas such a chance as this, made all +The world into this order fall; +Thus the first lovers, on the clay, +Of which they were composed, lay; +So in their prime, with equal grace, +Met the first patterns of our race. + Then blush not, fair! or on him frown, +Or wonder how you both came down; 20 +But touch him, and he'll tremble straight, +How could he then support your weight? +How could the youth, alas! but bend, +When his whole heaven upon him lean'd? +If aught by him amiss were done, +'Twas that he let you rise so soon. + + + + +OF SYLVIA. + + +1 Our sighs are heard; just Heaven declares + The sense it has of lovers' cares; + She that so far the rest outshined, + Sylvia the fair, while she was kind, + As if her frowns impair'd her brow, + Seems only not unhandsome now. + So, when the sky makes us endure + A storm, itself becomes obscure. + +2 Hence 'tis that I conceal my flame, + Hiding from Flavia's self her name, + Lest she, provoking Heaven, should prove + How it rewards neglected love. + Better a thousand such as I, + Their grief untold, should pine and die; + Than her bright morning, overcast + With sullen clouds, should be defaced. + + + + +THE BUD. + + +1 Lately on yonder swelling bush, + Big with many a coming rose, + This early bud began to blush, + And did but half itself disclose; + I pluck'd it, though no better grown, + And now you see how full 'tis blown. + +2 Still as I did the leaves inspire, + With such a purple light they shone, + As if they had been made of fire, + And spreading so, would flame anon. + All that was meant by air or sun, + To the young flower, my breath has done. + +3 If our loose breath so much can do, + What may the same in forms of love, + Of purest love, and music too, + When Flavia it aspires to move? + When that, which lifeless buds persuades + To wax more soft, her youth invades? + + + + +ON THE DISCOVERY OF A LADY'S PAINTING. + + +1 Pygmalion's fate reversed is mine;[1] + His marble love took flesh and blood; + All that I worshipp'd as divine, + That beauty! now 'tis understood, + Appears to have no more of life + Than that whereof he framed his wife. + +2 As women yet, who apprehend + Some sudden cause of causeless fear, + Although that seeming cause take end, + And they behold no danger near, + A shaking through their limbs they find, + Like leaves saluted by the wind: + +3 So though the beauty do appear + No beauty, which amazed me so; + Yet from my breast I cannot tear + The passion which from thence did grow; + Nor yet out of my fancy raze + The print of that supposed face. + +4 A real beauty, though too near, + The fond Narcissus did admire: + I dote on that which is nowhere; + The sign of beauty feeds my fire. + No mortal flame was e'er so cruel + As this, which thus survives the fuel! + +[1] 'Mine': Ovid, _Met_. x. + + + + +OF LOVING AT FIRST SIGHT. + + +1 Not caring to observe the wind, + Or the new sea explore, + Snatch'd from myself, how far behind + Already I behold the shore! + +2 May not a thousand dangers sleep + In the smooth bosom of this deep? + No; 'tis so reckless and so clear, + That the rich bottom does appear + Paved all with precious things; not torn + From shipwreck'd vessels, but there born. + +3 Sweetness, truth, and every grace + Which time and use are wont to teach, + The eye may in a moment reach, + And read distinctly in her face. + +4 Some other nymphs, with colours faint, + And pencil slow, may Cupid paint, + And a weak heart in time destroy; + She has a stamp, and prints the boy: + Can, with a single look, inflame + The coldest breast, the rudest tame. + + + + +THE SELF-BANISHED. + + +1 It is not that I love you less, + Than when before your feet I lay; + But to prevent the sad increase + Of hopeless love, I keep away. + +2 In vain, alas! for everything + Which I have known belong to you, + Your form does to my fancy bring, + And makes my old wounds bleed anew. + +3 Who in the spring, from the new sun, + Already has a fever got, + Too late begins those shafts to shun, + Which Phoebus through his veins has shot; + +4 Too late he would the pain assuage, + And to thick shadows does retire; + About with him he bears the rage, + And in his tainted blood the fire. + +5 But vow'd I have, and never must + Your banish'd servant trouble you; + For if I break, you may mistrust + The vow I made--to love you too. + + + + +A PANEGYRIC TO MY LORD PROTECTOR, +OF THE PRESENT GREATNESS, AND JOINT INTEREST, OF HIS HIGHNESS, AND THIS +NATION.[1] + + +1 While with a strong and yet a gentle hand, + You bridle faction, and our hearts command, + Protect us from ourselves, and from the foe, + Make us unite, and make us conquer too; + +2 Let partial spirits still aloud complain, + Think themselves injured that they cannot reign, + And own no liberty but where they may + Without control upon their fellows prey. + +3 Above the waves as Neptune show'd his face, + To chide the winds, and save the Trojan race, + So has your Highness, raised above the rest, + Storms of ambition, tossing us, repress'd. + +4 Your drooping country, torn with civil hate, + Restored by you, is made a glorious state; + The seat of empire, where the Irish come, + And the unwilling Scots, to fetch their doom. + +5 The sea's our own; and now all nations greet, + With bending sails, each vessel of our fleet; + Your power extends as far as winds can blow, + Or swelling sails upon the globe may go. + +6 Heaven (that hath placed this island to give law, + To balance Europe, and her states to awe), + In this conjunction doth on Britain smile; + The greatest leader, and the greatest isle! + +7 Whether this portion of the world were rent, + By the rude ocean, from the continent, + Or thus created, it was sure design'd + To be the sacred refuge of mankind. + +8 Hither th'oppressed shall henceforth resort, + Justice to crave, and succour, at your court; + And then your Highness, not for ours alone, + But for the world's Protector shall be known. + +9 Fame, swifter than your winged navy, flies + Through every land that near the ocean lies, + Sounding your name, and telling dreadful news + To all that piracy and rapine use. + +10 With such a chief the meanest nation bless'd, + Might hope to lift her head above the rest; + What may be thought impossible to do + By us, embraced by the sea and you? + +11 Lords of the world's great waste, the ocean, we + Whole forests send to reign upon the sea, + And every coast may trouble, or relieve; + But none can visit us without your leave. + +12 Angels and we have this prerogative, + That none can at our happy seats arrive; + While we descend at pleasure, to invade + The bad with vengeance, and the good to aid. + +13 Our little world, the image of the great, + Like that, amidst the boundless ocean set, + Of her own growth hath all that Nature craves, + And all that's rare, as tribute from the waves. + +14 As Egypt does not on the clouds rely, + But to the Nile owes more than to the sky; + So what our earth, and what our heaven denies, + Our ever constant friend, the sea, supplies. + +15 The taste of hot Arabia's spice we know, + Free from the scorching sun that makes it grow; + Without the worm, in Persian silks we shine; + And, without planting, drink of every vine. + +16 To dig for wealth we weary not our limbs; + Gold, though the heaviest metal, hither swims; + Ours is the harvest where the Indians mow; + We plough the deep, and reap what others sow. + +17 Things of the noblest kind our own soil breeds; + Stout are our men, and warlike are our steeds; + Rome, though her eagle through the world had flown, + Could never make this island all her own. + +18 Here the Third Edward, and the Black Prince, too, + France-conqu'ring Henry flourish'd, and now you; + For whom we stay'd, as did the Grecian state, + Till Alexander came to urge their fate. + +19 When for more worlds the Macedonian cried, + He wist not Thetis in her lap did hide + Another yet; a world reserved for you, + To make more great than that he did subdue. + +20 He safely might old troops to battle lead, + Against th'unwarlike Persian and the Mede, + Whose hasty flight did, from a bloodless field, + More spoils than honour to the victor yield. + +21 A race unconquer'd, by their clime made bold, + The Caledonians, arm'd with want and cold, + Have, by a fate indulgent to your fame, + Been from all ages kept for you to tame. + +22 Whom the old Roman wall so ill confined, + With a new chain of garrisons you bind; + Here foreign gold no more shall make them come; + Our English iron holds them fast at home. + +23 They, that henceforth must be content to know + No warmer regions than their hills of snow, + May blame the sun, but must extol your grace, + Which in our senate hath allowed them place. + +24 Preferr'd by conquest, happily o'erthrown, + Falling they rise, to be with us made one; + So kind Dictators made, when they came home, + Their vanquish'd foes free citizens of Rome. + +25 Like favour find the Irish, with like fate, + Advanced to be a portion of our state; + While by your valour and your bounteous mind, + Nations, divided by the sea, are join'd. + +26 Holland, to gain your friendship, is content + To be our outguard on the Continent; + She from her fellow-provinces would go, + Rather than hazard to have you her foe. + +27 In our late fight, when cannons did diffuse, + Preventing posts, the terror and the news, + Our neighbour princes trembled at their roar; + But our conjunction makes them tremble more. + +28 Your never-failing sword made war to cease; + And now you heal us with the acts of peace; + Our minds with bounty and with awe engage, + Invite affection, and restrain our rage. + +29 Less pleasure take brave minds in battles won, + Than in restoring such as are undone; + Tigers have courage, and the rugged bear, + But man alone can, whom he conquers, spare. + +30 To pardon willing, and to punish loth, + You strike with one hand, but you heal with both; + Lifting up all that prostrate lie, you grieve + You cannot make the dead again to live. + +31 When fate, or error, had our age misled, + And o'er this nation such confusion spread, + The only cure, which could from Heaven come down, + Was so much power and piety in one! + +32 One! whose extraction from an ancient line + Gives hope again that well-born men may shine; + The meanest in your nature, mild and good, + The noblest rest secured in your blood. + +33 Oft have we wonder'd how you hid in peace + A mind proportion'd to such things as these; + How such a ruling sp'rit you could restrain, + And practise first over yourself to reign. + +34 Your private life did a just pattern give, + How fathers, husbands, pious sons should live; + Born to command, your princely virtues slept, + Like humble David's, while the flock he kept. + +35 But when your troubled country called you forth, + Your flaming courage, and your matchless worth, + Dazzling the eyes of all that did pretend, + To fierce contention gave a prosp'rous end. + +36 Still as you rise, the state, exalted too, + Finds no distemper while 'tis changed by you; + Changed like the world's great scene! when, without noise, + The rising sun night's vulgar light destroys. + +37 Had you, some ages past, this race of glory + Run, with amazement we should read your story; + But living virtue, all achievements past, + Meets envy still, to grapple with at last. + +38 This Caesar found; and that ungrateful age, + With losing him went back to blood and rage; + Mistaken Brutus thought to break their yoke, + But cut the bond of union with that stroke. + +39 That sun once set, a thousand meaner stars + Gave a dim light to violence and wars, + To such a tempest as now threatens all, + Did not your mighty arm prevent the fall. + +40 If Rome's great senate could not wield that sword, + Which of the conquer'd world had made them lord; + What hope had ours, while yet their power was new, + To rule victorious armies, but by you? + +41 You! that had taught them to subdue their foes, + Could order teach, and their high sp'rits compose; + To every duty could their minds engage, + Provoke their courage, and command their rage. + +42 So when a lion shakes his dreadful mane, + And angry grows, if he that first took pain + To tame his youth approach the haughty beast, + He bends to him, but frights away the rest. + +43 As the vex'd world, to find repose, at last + Itself into Augustus' arms did cast; + So England now does, with like toil oppress'd, + Her weary head upon your bosom rest. + +44 Then let the Muses, with such notes as these, + Instruct us what belongs unto our peace; + Your battles they hereafter shall indite, + And draw the image of our Mars in fight; + +45 Tell of towns storm'd, of armies overrun, + And mighty kingdoms by your conduct won; + How, while you thunder'd, clouds of dust did choke + Contending troops, and seas lay hid in smoke. + +46 Illustrious acts high raptures do infuse, + And every conqueror creates a Muse. + Here, in low strains, your milder deeds we sing; + But there, my lord! we'll bays and olive bring, + +47 To crown your head; while you in triumph ride + O'er vanquish'd nations, and the sea beside; + While all your neighbour princes unto you, + Like Joseph's sheaves,[2] pay reverence, and bow. + +[1] Written about 1654. +[2] 'Joseph's sheaves': Gen. xxxvii. + + + + +ON THE HEAD OF A STAG. + + +So we some antique hero's strength +Learn by his lance's weight and length, +As these vast beams express the beast +Whose shady brows alive they dress'd. +Such game, while yet the world was new, +The mighty Nimrod did pursue. +What huntsman of our feeble race, +Or dogs, dare such a monster chase, +Resembling, with each blow he strikes, 9 +The charge of a whole troop of pikes? +O fertile head! which every year +Could such a crop of wonder bear! +The teeming earth did never bring +So soon, so hard, so huge a thing; +Which might it never have been cast +(Each year's growth added to the last), +These lofty branches had supplied +The earth's bold sons' prodigious pride; +Heaven with these engines had been scaled, +When mountains heap'd on mountains fail'd. 20 + + + + +THE MISER'S SPEECH. +IN A MASQUE. + + +Balls of this metal slack'd At'lanta's pace, +And on the am'rous youth[1] bestow'd the race; +Venus (the nymph's mind measuring by her own), +Whom the rich spoils of cities overthrown +Had prostrated to Mars, could well advise +Th' advent'rous lover how to gain the prize. +Nor less may Jupiter to gold ascribe; +For, when he turn'd himself into a bribe, +Who can blame Danae[2], or the brazen tower, +That they withstood not that almighty shower 10 +Never till then did love make Jove put on +A form more bright, and nobler than his own; +Nor were it just, would he resume that shape, +That slack devotion should his thunder 'scape. +'Twas not revenge for griev'd Apollo's wrong, 15 +Those ass's ears on Midas' temples hung, +But fond repentance of his happy wish, +Because his meat grew metal like his dish. +Would Bacchus bless me so, I'd constant hold +Unto my wish, and die creating gold. + +[1] 'Am'rous youth': Hippomenes. +[2] Transcriber's note: The original text has a single dot over the + second "a" and another over the "e", rather than the more + conventional diaresis shown here. + + + + +CHLORIS AND HYLAS. +MADE TO A SARABAND. + + +CHLORIS. + +Hylas, O Hylas! why sit we mute, +Now that each bird saluteth the spring? +Wind up the slacken'd strings of thy lute, +Never canst thou want matter to sing; +For love thy breast does fill with such a fire, +That whatsoe'er is fair moves thy desire. + +HYLAS. + +Sweetest! you know, the sweetest of things +Of various flowers the bees do compose; +Yet no particular taste it brings +Of violet, woodbine, pink, or rose; 10 +So love the result is of all the graces +Which flow from a thousand sev'ral faces. + +CHLORIS. + +Hylas! the birds which chant in this grove, +Could we but know the language they use, +They would instruct us better in love, +And reprehend thy inconstant Muse; +For love their breasts does fill with such a fire, 17 +That what they once do choose, bounds their desire. + +HYLAS. + +Chloris! this change the birds do approve, +Which the warm season hither does bring; 20 +Time from yourself does further remove +You, than the winter from the gay spring; +She that like lightning shined while her face lasted, +The oak now resembles which lightning hath blasted. + + + + +IN ANSWER OF SIR JOHN SUCKLING'S VERSES. + + +CON. + +Stay here, fond youth! and ask no more; be wise; +Knowing too much long since lost Paradise. + +PRO. + +And, by your knowledge, we should be bereft +Of all that Paradise which yet is left. + +CON. + +The virtuous joys thou hast, thou wouldst should still +Last in their pride; and wouldst not take it ill +If rudely from sweet dreams, and for a toy, +Thou waked; he wakes himself that does enjoy. + +PRO. + +How can the joy, or hope, which you allow +Be styled virtuous, and the end not so? 10 +Talk in your sleep, and shadows still admire! +'Tis true, he wakes that feels this real fire; +But--to sleep better; for whoe'er drinks deep +Of this Nepenthe, rocks himself asleep. + +CON. + +Fruition adds no new wealth, but destroys, +And while it pleaseth much, yet still it cloys. +Who thinks he should be happier made for that, +As reasonably might hope he might grow fat +By eating to a surfeit; this once past, +What relishes? even kisses lose their taste. 20 + +PRO. + +Blessings may be repeated while they cloy; +But shall we starve, 'cause surfeitings destroy? +And if fruition did the taste impair +Of kisses, why should yonder happy pair, +Whose joys just Hymen warrants all the night, +Consume the day, too, in this less delight? + +CON. + +Urge not 'tis necessary; alas! we know +The homeliest thing that mankind does is so. +The world is of a large extent we see, +And must be peopled; children there must be: 30 +So must bread too; but since there are enow +Born to that drudgery, what need we plough? + +PRO. + +I need not plough, since what the stooping hine[1] +Gets of my pregnant land must all be mine; +But in this nobler tillage 'tis not so; +For when Anchises did fair Venus know, +What interest had poor Vulcan in the boy, +Famous Aeneas, or the present joy? + +CON. + +Women enjoy'd, whate'er before they've been, 39 +Are like romances read, or scenes once seen; +Fruition dulls or spoils the play much more +Than if one read, or knew the plot before. + +PRO. + +Plays and romances read and seen, do fall +In our opinions; yet not seen at all, +Whom would they please? To an heroic tale +Would you not listen, lest it should grow stale? + +CON. + +'Tis expectation makes a blessing dear; +Heaven were not heaven, if we knew what it were. + +PRO. + +If 'twere not heaven if we knew what it were, +'Twould not be heaven to those that now are there. 50 + +CON. + +And as in prospects we are there pleased most, +Where something keeps the eye from being lost, +And leaves us room to guess; so here, restraint +Holds up delight, that with excess would faint. + +PRO. + +Restraint preserves the pleasure we have got, +But he ne'er has it that enjoys it not. +In goodly prospects, who contracts the space, +Or takes not all the bounty of the place? +We wish remov'd what standeth in our light, +And nature blame for limiting our sight; 60 +Where you stand wisely winking, that the view +Of the fair prospect may be always new. + +CON. + +They, who know all the wealth they have, are poor; +He's only rich that cannot tell his store. + +PRO. + +Not he that knows the wealth he has is poor, +But he that dares not touch, nor use, his store. + +[1] 'Hine': hind. + + + + +AN APOLOGY FOR HAVING LOVED BEFORE. + + +1 They that never had the use + Of the grape's surprising juice, + To the first delicious cup + All their reason render up; + Neither do, nor care to know, + Whether it be best or no. + +2 So they that are to love inclined, + Sway'd by chance, not choice or art, + To the first that's fair, or kind, + Make a present of their heart; + 'Tis not she that first we love, + But whom dying we approve. + +3 To man, that was in th'ev'ning made, + Stars gave the first delight, + Admiring, in the gloomy shade, + Those little drops of light; + Then at Aurora, whose fair hand + Removed them from the skies, + He gazing t'ward the east did stand, + She entertain'd his eyes. + +4 But when the bright sun did appear, + All those he 'gan despise; + His wonder was determined there, + And could no higher rise; + He neither might, nor wished to know + A more refulgent light; + For that (as mine your beauties now) + Employ'd his utmost sight. + + + + +THE NIGHT-PIECE; +OR, A PICTURE DRAWN IN THE DARK. + + +Darkness, which fairest nymphs disarms, +Defends us ill from Mira's charms; +Mira can lay her beauty by, +Take no advantage of the eye, +Quit all that Lely's art can take, +And yet a thousand captives make. + Her speech is graced with sweeter sound +Than in another's song is found! +And all her well-placed words are darts, +Which need no light to reach our hearts. 10 + As the bright stars and Milky Way, +Show'd by the night, are hid by day; +So we, in that accomplish'd mind, +Help'd by the night, new graces find, +Which, by the splendour of her view, +Dazzled before, we never knew. + While we converse with her, we mark +No want of day, nor think it dark; +Her shining image is a light +Fix'd in our hearts, and conquers night. 20 + Like jewels to advantage set, +Her beauty by the shade does get; +There blushes, frowns, and cold disdain, +All that our passion might restrain, +Is hid, and our indulgent mind +Presents the fair idea kind. + Yet, friended by the night, we dare +Only in whispers tell our care; +He that on her his bold hand lays, +With Cupid's pointed arrows plays; 30 +They with a touch (they are so keen!) +Wound us unshot, and she unseen. + All near approaches threaten death; +We may be shipwreck'd by her breath; +Love, favour'd once with that sweet gale, +Doubles his haste, and fills his sail, +Till he arrive where she must prove +The haven, or the rock, of love. + So we th'Arabian coast do know +At distance, when the spices blow; 40 +By the rich odour taught to steer, +Though neither day nor stars appear. + + + + +ON THE PICTURE OF A FAIR YOUTH, +TAKEN AFTER HE WAS DEAD. + + +As gather'd flowers, while their wounds are new, +Look gay and fresh, as on the stalk they grew; +Torn from the root that nourish'd them, awhile +(Not taking notice of their fate) they smile, +And, in the hand which rudely pluck'd them, show +Fairer than those that to their autumn grow; +So love and beauty still that visage grace; +Death cannot fright them from their wonted place. +Alive, the hand of crooked Age had marr'd, +Those lovely features which cold Death has spared. + +No wonder then he sped in love so well, +When his high passion he had breath to tell; +When that accomplish'd soul, in this fair frame, +No business had but to persuade that dame, +Whose mutual love advanced the youth so high, +That, but to heaven, he could no higher fly. + + + + +ON A BREDE OF DIVERS COLOURS, +WOVEN BY FOUR LADIES. + + +Twice twenty slender virgin-fingers twine +This curious web, where all their fancies shine. +As Nature them, so they this shade have wrought, +Soft as their hands, and various as their thought; +Not Juno's bird when, his fair train dispread, +He woos the female to his painted bed, +No, not the bow, which so adorns the skies, +So glorious is, or boasts so many dyes. + + + + +OF A WAR WITH SPAIN, AND FIGHT AT SEA.[1] + + +Now, for some ages, had the pride of Spain +Made the sun shine on half the world in vain; +While she bid war to all that durst supply +The place of those her cruelty made die. +Of Nature's bounty men forebore to taste, +And the best portion of the earth lay waste. +From the new world, her silver and her gold +Came, like a tempest, to confound the old; +Feeding with these the bribed electors' hopes, +Alone she gives us emperors and popes; 10 +With these accomplishing her vast designs, +Europe was shaken with her Indian mines. + +When Britain, looking with a just disdain +Upon this gilded majesty of Spain, +And knowing well that empire must decline, +Whose chief support and sinews are of coin, +Our nation's solid virtue did oppose +To the rich troublers of the world's repose. + +And now some months, encamping on the main, +Our naval army had besieged Spain; 20 +They that the whole world's monarchy design'd, +Are to their ports by our bold fleet confined; +From whence our Red Cross they triumphant see, +Riding without a rival on the sea. + +Others may use the ocean as their road, +Only the English make it their abode, +Whose ready sails with every wind can fly, +And make a cov'nant with th'inconstant sky; +Our oaks secure, as if they there took root, 29 +We tread on billows with a steady foot. + +Meanwhile the Spaniards in America, +Near to the line the sun approaching saw, +And hoped their European coasts to find +Clear'd from our ships by the autumnal wind; +Their huge capacious galleons stuff'd with plate, +The lab'ring winds drive slowly t'wards their fate. +Before St. Lucar they their guns discharge +To tell their joy, or to invite a barge; +This heard some ships of ours (though out of view), +And, swift as eagles, to the quarry flew; 40 +So heedless lambs, which for their mothers bleat, +Wake hungry lions, and become their meat. + +Arrived, they soon begin that tragic play, +And with their smoky cannons banish day; +Night, horror, slaughter, with confusion meets, +And in their sable arms embrace the fleets. +Through yielding planks the angry bullets fly, +And, of one wound, hundreds together die; +Born under diff'rent stars, one fate they have, +The ship their coffin, and the sea their grave! 50 +Bold were the men which on the ocean first +Spread their new sails, when shipwreck was the worst; +More danger now from man alone we find +Than from the rocks, the billows, or the wind. +They that had sail'd from near th'Antarctic Pole, +Their treasure safe, and all their vessels whole, +In sight of their dear country ruin'd be, +Without the guilt of either rock or sea! +What they would spare, our fiercer art destroys, +Surpassing storms in terror and in noise. 60 +Once Jove from Ida did both hosts survey, +And, when he pleased to thunder, part the fray; + +Here, heaven in vain that kind retreat should sound, +The louder cannon had the thunder drown'd. +Some we made prize; while others, burn'd and rent, +With their rich lading to the bottom went; +Down sinks at once (so Fortune with us sports:) +The pay of armies, and the pride of courts. +Vain man! whose rage buries as low that store, +As avarice had digg'd for it before; 70 +What earth, in her dark bowels, could not keep +From greedy hands, lies safer in the deep, +Where Thetis kindly does from mortals hide +Those seeds of luxury, debate, and pride. + +And now, into her lap the richest prize +Fell, with the noblest of our enemies; +The Marquis[2](glad to see the fire destroy +Wealth that prevailing foes were to enjoy) +Out from his flaming ship his children sent, +To perish in a milder element; 80 +Then laid him by his burning lady's side, +And, since he could not save her, with her died. +Spices and gums about them melting fry, +And, phoenix-like, in that rich nest they die; +Alive, in flames of equal love they burn'd, +And now together are to ashes turn'd; +Ashes! more worth than all their fun'ral cost, +Than the huge treasure which was with them lost. +These dying lovers, and their floating sons, +Suspend the fight, and silence all our guns; 90 +Beauty and youth about to perish, finds +Such noble pity in brave English minds, +That (the rich spoil forgot, their valour's prize,) +All labour now to save their enemies. + +How frail our passions! how soon changed are 95 +Our wrath and fury to a friendly care! +They that but now for honour, and for plate, +Made the sea blush with blood, resign their hate; +And, their young foes endeav'ring to retrieve, +With greater hazard than they fought, they dive. 100 + +With these, returns victorious Montague, +With laurels in his hand, and half Peru. +Let the brave generals divide that bough, +Our great Protector hath such wreaths enow; +His conqu'ring head has no more room for bays; +Then let it be as the glad nation prays; +Let the rich ore forthwith be melted down, +And the state fix'd by making him a crown; +With ermine clad, and purple, let him hold +A royal sceptre, made of Spanish gold. 110 + +[1] 'Fight at sea': see any good English History, under date 1656. +[2] 'Marquis': of Badajos, viceroy of Mexico. + + + + +UPON THE DEATH OF THE LORD PROTECTOR. + + +We must resign! Heaven his great soul does claim +In storms, as loud as his immortal fame; +His dying groans, his last breath, shakes our isle, +And trees uncut fall for his funeral pile; +About his palace their broad roots are toss'd +Into the air.[1]--So Romulus was lost! +New Rome in such a tempest miss'd her king, +And from obeying fell to worshipping. +On Oeta's top thus Hercules lay dead, 9 +With ruin'd oaks and pines about him spread; +The poplar, too, whose bough he wont to wear +On his victorious head, lay prostrate there; +Those his last fury from the mountain rent: +Our dying hero from the Continent +Ravish'd whole towns: and forts from Spaniards reft +As his last legacy to Britain left. +The ocean, which so long our hopes confined, +Could give no limits to his vaster mind; +Our bounds' enlargement was his latest toil, +Nor hath he left us pris'ners to our isle; 20 +Under the tropic is our language spoke, +And part of Flanders hath received our yoke. +From civil broils he did us disengage, +Found nobler objects for our martial rage; +And, with wise conduct, to his country show'd +The ancient way of conquering abroad. +Ungrateful then! if we no tears allow +To him, that gave us peace and empire too. +Princes, that fear'd him, grieve, concern'd to see +No pitch of glory from the grave is free. 30 +Nature herself took notice of his death, +And, sighing, swell'd the sea with such a breath, +That, to remotest shores her billows roll'd, +The approaching fate of their great ruler told. + +[1] 'The air': a tremendous tempest blew over England (not on the day), + but a day or two before Cromwell's death. It was said that something + of the same sort, along with an eclipse of the sun, took place on + the removal of Romulus. + + + + +ON ST JAMES'S PARK, AS LATELY IMPROVED BY HIS MAJESTY.[1] + + +Of the first Paradise there's nothing found; +Plants set by Heaven are vanish'd, and the ground; +Yet the description lasts; who knows the fate +Of lines that shall this paradise relate? + +Instead of rivers rolling by the side +Of Eden's garden, here flows in the tide; +The sea, which always served his empire, now +Pays tribute to our Prince's pleasure too. +Of famous cities we the founders know; +But rivers, old as seas, to which they go, 10 +Are Nature's bounty; 'tis of more renown +To make a river, than to build a town. + +For future shade, young trees upon the banks +Of the new stream appear in even ranks; +The voice of Orpheus, or Amphion's hand, +In better order could not make them stand; +May they increase as fast, and spread their boughs, +As the high fame of their great owner grows! +May he live long enough to see them all +Dark shadows cast, and as his palace tall! 20 +Methinks I see the love that shall be made, +The lovers walking in that am'rous shade; +The gallants dancing by the river side; +They bathe in summer, and in winter slide. +Methinks I hear the music in the boats, +And the loud echo which returns the notes; +While overhead a flock of new-sprung fowl +Hangs in the air, and does the sun control, +Dark'ning the sky; they hover o'er, and shroud 29 +The wanton sailors with a feather'd cloud. +Beneath, a shoal of silver fishes glides, +And plays about the gilded barges' sides; +The ladies, angling in the crystal lake, +Feast on the waters with the prey they take; +At once victorious with their lines, and eyes, +They make the fishes, and the men, their prize. +A thousand Cupids on the billows ride, +And sea-nymphs enter with the swelling tide, +From Thetis sent as spies, to make report, +And tell the wonders of her sovereign's court. 40 +All that can, living, feed the greedy eye, +Or dead, the palate, here you may descry; +The choicest things that furnish'd Noah's ark, +Or Peter's sheet, inhabiting this park; +All with a border of rich fruit-trees crown'd, +Whose loaded branches hide the lofty mound, +Such various ways the spacious alleys lead, +My doubtful Muse knows not what path to tread. +Yonder, the harvest of cold months laid up, +Gives a fresh coolness to the royal cup; 50 +There ice, like crystal firm, and never lost, +Tempers hot July with December's frost; +Winter's dark prison, whence he cannot fly, +Though the warm spring, his enemy, draws nigh. +Strange! that extremes should thus preserve the snow, +High on the Alps, or in deep caves below. + +Here, a well-polished Mall gives us the joy +To see our Prince his matchless force employ; +His manly posture, and his graceful mien, +Vigour and youth in all his motions seen; 60 +His shape so lovely and his limbs so strong, +Confirm our hopes we shall obey him long. + +No sooner has he touch'd the flying ball, 63 +But 'tis already more than half the Mall; +And such a fury from his arm has got, +As from a smoking culv'rin it were shot.[2] + +Near this my Muse, what most delights her, sees +A living gallery of aged trees; +Bold sons of earth, that thrust their arms so high, +As if once more they would invade the sky. 70 +In such green palaces the first kings reign'd, +Slept in their shades, and angels entertain'd; +With such old counsellors they did advise, +And, by frequenting sacred groves, grew wise. +Free from th'impediments of light and noise, +Man, thus retired, his nobler thoughts employs. +Here Charles contrives th'ordering of his states, +Here he resolves his neighb'ring princes' fates; +What nation shall have peace, where war be made, +Determined is in this oraculous shade; 80 +The world, from India to the frozen north, +Concern'd in what this solitude brings forth. +His fancy objects from his view receives; +The prospect thought and contemplation gives. +That seat of empire here salutes his eye, +To which three kingdoms do themselves apply; +The structure by a prelate[3] raised, Whitehall, +Built with the fortune of Rome's capitol; +Both, disproportion'd to the present state +Of their proud founders, were approved by Fate. 90 +From hence he does that antique pile[4] behold, +Where royal heads receive the sacred gold; +It gives them crowns, and does their ashes keep; +There made like gods, like mortals there they sleep; +Making the circle of their reign complete, +Those suns of empire! where they rise, they set. +When others fell, this, standing, did presage +The crown should triumph over popular rage; +Hard by that House,[5] where all our ills were shaped, +Th' auspicious temple stood, and yet escaped. 100 +So snow on Aetna does unmelted lie, +Whence rolling flames and scatter'd cinders fly; +The distant country in the ruin shares; +What falls from heaven the burning mountain spares. +Next, that capacious Hall[6] he sees, the room +Where the whole nation does for justice come; +Under whose large roof flourishes the gown, +And judges grave, on high tribunals, frown. +Here, like the people's pastor he does go, +His flock subjected to his view below; 110 +On which reflecting in his mighty mind, +No private passion does indulgence find; +The pleasures of his youth suspended are, +And made a sacrifice to public care. +Here, free from court compliances, he walks, +And with himself, his best adviser, talks; +How peaceful olives may his temples shade, +For mending laws, and for restoring trade; +Or, how his brows may be with laurel charged, +For nations conquer'd and our bounds enlarged. 120 +Of ancient prudence here he ruminates, +Of rising kingdoms, and of falling states; +What ruling arts gave great Augustus fame, +And how Alcides purchased such a name. + +His eyes, upon his native palace[7] bent, +Close by, suggest a greater argument. +His thoughts rise higher, when he does reflect +On what the world may from that star expect +Which at his birth appear'd,[8] to let us see +Day, for his sake, could with the night agree; 130 +A prince, on whom such diff'rent lights did smile, +Born the divided world to reconcile! +Whatever Heaven, or high extracted blood +Could promise, or foretell, he will make good; +Reform these nations, and improve them more, +Than this fair park, from what it was before. + +[1] See 'Macaulay.' +[2] Pall Mall derived its name from a particular game at bowls, in which + Charles II. excelled. +[3] 'Prelate': Cardinal Wolsey. +[4] 'Antique pile': Westminster Abbey. +[5] 'House': House of Commons. +[6] 'Hall': Westminster Hall. +[7] 'Palace': St. James's Palace, where Charles II. was born. +[8] 'Birth appeared ': it seems a new star appeared in the heavens at + the birth of the king. + + + + +OF HER ROYAL HIGHNESS, MOTHER TO THE PRINCE OF ORANGE;[1] +AND OF HER PORTRAIT, WRITTEN BY THE LATE DUCHESS OF YORK, WHILE SHE +LIVED WITH HER. + + +Heroic nymph! in tempests the support, +In peace the glory of the British Court! +Into whose arms the church, the state, and all +That precious is, or sacred here, did fall. +Ages to come, that shall your bounty hear, +Will think you mistress of the Indies were; +Though straiter bounds your fortunes did confine, +In your large heart was found a wealthy mine; +Like the bless'd oil, the widow's lasting feast, +Your treasure, as you pour'd it out, increased. 10 + +While some your beauty, some your bounty sing, +Your native isle does with your praises ring; +But, above all, a nymph of your own train[2] +Gives us your character in such a strain, +As none but she, who in that Court did dwell, +Could know such worth, or worth describe so well. +So while we mortals here at heaven do guess, +And more our weakness, than the place, express, +Some angel, a domestic there, comes down, +And tells the wonders he hath seen and known. 20 + +[1] 'Prince of Orange': Mary, Princess of Orange, and sister to Charles + II. +[2] 'Train': Lady Anne Hyde, daughter of the Earl of Clarendon, and + afterwards Duchess of York, and mother of Queen Mary and Queen Anne. + + + + +UPON HER MAJESTY'S NEW BUILDINGS AT SOMERSET HOUSE.[1] + + +Great Queen! that does our island bless +With princes and with palaces; +Treated so ill, chased from your throne, +Returning you adorn the Town; +And, with a brave revenge, do show +Their glory went and came with you. + +While peace from hence and you were gone, +Your houses in that storm o'erthrown, +Those wounds which civil rage did give, +At once you pardon, and relieve. 10 + +Constant to England in your love, +As birds are to their wonted grove, +Though by rude hands their nests are spoil'd, +There the next spring again they build. + +Accusing some malignant star, +Not Britain, for that fatal war, +Your kindness banishes your fear, +Resolved to fix for ever here.[2] +But what new mine this work supplies? +Can such a pile from ruin rise? 20 +This, like the first creation, shows +As if at your command it rose. + +Frugality and bounty too +(Those diff'ring virtues), meet in you; +From a confined, well-managed store, +You both employ and feed the poor. + +Let foreign princes vainly boast +The rude effects of pride, and cost +Of vaster fabrics, to which they +Contribute nothing but the pay; 30 +This, by the Queen herself design'd, +Gives us a pattern of her mind; +The state and order does proclaim +The genius of that Royal Dame. +Each part with just proportion graced, +And all to such advantage placed, +That the fair view her window yields, +The town, the river, and the fields, +Ent'ring, beneath us we descry, +And wonder how we came so high. 40 + +She needs no weary steps ascend; +All seems before her feet to bend; +And here, as she was born, she lies; +High, without taking pains to rise. + +[1] 'Somerset House': Henrietta, Queen-mother, who returned to England + in 1660, and lived in Somerset House, which she greatly improved. +[2] 'Ever here': she left, however, in 1665. + + + + +OF A TREE CUT IN PAPER. + + +Fair hand! that can on virgin paper write, +Yet from the stain of ink preserve it white; +Whose travel o'er that silver field does show +Like track of leverets in morning snow. +Love's image thus in purest minds is wrought, +Without a spot or blemish to the thought. +Strange, that your fingers should the pencil foil, +Without the help of colours or of oil! +For though a painter boughs and leaves can make, +'Tis you alone can make them bend and shake; +Whose breath salutes your new-created grove, +Like southern winds, and makes it gently move. +Orpheus could make the forest dance; but you +Can make the motion and the forest too. + + + + +VERSES TO DR GEORGE ROGERS, +ON HIS TAKING THE DEGREE OF DOCTOR OF PHYSIC AT PADUA, IN THE YEAR 1664. + + +When as of old the earth's bold children strove, +With hills on hills, to scale the throne of Jove, +Pallas and Mars stood by their sovereign's side, +And their bright arms in his defence employ'd; +While the wise Phoebus, Hermes, and the rest, +Who joy in peace, and love the Muses best, +Descending from their so distemper'd seat, +Our groves and meadows chose for their retreat. +There first Apollo tried the various use 9 +Of herbs, and learn'd the virtues of their juice, +And framed that art, to which who can pretend +A juster title than our noble friend, +Whom the like tempest drives from his abode, +And like employment entertains abroad? +This crowns him here, and in the bays so earn'd, +His country's honour is no less concern'd, +Since it appears not all the English rave, +To ruin bent; some study how to save; +And as Hippocrates did once extend +His sacred art, whole cities to amend; 20 +So we, great friend! suppose that thy great skill, +Thy gentle mind, and fair example will, +At thy return, reclaim our frantic isle, +Their spirits calm, and peace again shall smile. + + + + +INSTRUCTIONS TO A PAINTER, +FOR THE DRAWING OF THE POSTURE AND PROGRESS OF HIS MAJESTY'S FORCES AT +SEA, UNDER THE COMMAND OF HIS HIGHNESS-ROYAL; TOGETHER WITH THE BATTLE +AND VICTORY OBTAINED OVER THE DUTCH, JUNE 3, 1665.[1] + + +First draw the sea, that portion which between +The greater world and this of ours is seen; +Here place the British, there the Holland fleet, +Vast floating armies! both prepared to meet. +Draw the whole world, expecting who should reign, +After this combat, o'er the conquer'd main. + +Make Heaven concern'd, and an unusual star 7 +Declare th'importance of th'approaching war. +Make the sea shine with gallantry, and all +The English youth flock to their Admiral, +The valiant Duke! whose early deeds abroad, +Such rage in fight, and art in conduct show'd. +His bright sword now a dearer int'rest draws, +His brother's glory, and his country's cause. + +Let thy bold pencil hope and courage spread, +Through the whole navy, by that hero led; +Make all appear, where such a Prince is by, +Resolved to conquer, or resolved to die. +With his extraction, and his glorious mind, +Make the proud sails swell more than with the wind; 20 +Preventing cannon, make his louder fame +Check the Batavians, and their fury tame. +So hungry wolves, though greedy of their prey, +Stop when they find a lion in their way. +Make him bestride the ocean, and mankind +Ask his consent to use the sea and wind; +While his tall ships in the barr'd channel stand, +He grasps the Indies in his armed hand. + +Paint an east wind, and make it blow away +Th' excuse of Holland for their navy's stay; 30 +Make them look pale, and, the bold Prince to shun, +Through the cold north and rocky regions run. +To find the coast where morning first appears, +By the dark pole the wary Belgian steers; +Confessing now he dreads the English more +Than all the dangers of a frozen shore; +While from our arms security to find, +They fly so far, they leave the day behind. +Describe their fleet abandoning the sea, +And all their merchants left a wealthy prey; 40 + +Our first success in war make Bacchus crown, +And half the vintage of the year our own. +The Dutch their wine, and all their brandy lose, +Disarm'd of that from which their courage grows; +While the glad English, to relieve their toil, +In healths to their great leader drink the spoil. + +His high command to Afric's coast extend, +And make the Moors before the English bend; +Those barb'rous pirates willingly receive +Conditions, such as we are pleased to give. 50 +Deserted by the Dutch, let nations know +We can our own and their great business do; +False friends chastise, and common foes restrain, +Which, worse than tempests, did infest the main. +Within those Straits, make Holland's Smyrna fleet +With a small squadron of the English meet; +Like falcons these, those like a numerous flock +Of fowl, which scatter to avoid the shock. +There paint confusion in a various shape; +Some sink, some yield; and, flying, some escape. 60 +Europe and Africa, from either shore, +Spectators are, and hear our cannon roar; +While the divided world in this agree, +Men that fight so, deserve to rule the sea. + +But, nearer home, thy pencil use once more, +And place our navy by the Holland shore; +The world they compass'd, while they fought with Spain, +But here already they resign the main; +Those greedy mariners, out of whose way +Diffusive Nature could no region lay, 70 +At home, preserved from rocks and tempests, lie, +Compell'd, like others, in their beds to die. +Their single towns th'Iberian armies press'd; +We all their provinces at once invest; +And, in a month, ruin their traffic more +Than that long war could in an age before. + +But who can always on the billows lie? +The wat'ry wilderness yields no supply. +Spreading our sails, to Harwich we resort, +And meet the beauties of the British Court. 80 +Th' illustrious Duchess, and her glorious train +(Like Thetis with her nymphs), adorn the main. +The gazing sea-gods, since the Paphian Queen +Sprung from among them, no such sight had seen. +Charm'd with the graces of a troop so fair, +Those deathless powers for us themselves declare, +Resolved the aid of Neptune's court to bring, +And help the nation where such beauties spring; +The soldier here his wasted store supplies, +And takes new valour from the ladies' eyes. 90 + +Meanwhile, like bees, when stormy winter's gone, +The Dutch (as if the sea were all their own) +Desert their ports, and, falling in their way, +Our Hamburg merchants are become their prey. +Thus flourish they, before th'approaching fight; +As dying tapers give a blazing light. + +To check their pride, our fleet half-victuall'd goes, +Enough to serve us till we reach our foes; +Who now appear so numerous and bold, +The action worthy of our arms we hold. 100 +A greater force than that which here we find, +Ne'er press'd the ocean, nor employ'd the wind. +Restrain'd a while by the unwelcome night, +Th' impatient English scarce attend the light. +But now the morning (heaven severely clear!) +To the fierce work indulgent does appear; +And Phoebus lifts above the waves his light, +That he might see, and thus record, the fight. + +As when loud winds from diff'rent quarters rush, 109 +Vast clouds encount'ring one another crush; +With swelling sails so, from their sev'ral coasts, +Join the Batavian and the British hosts. +For a less prize, with less concern and rage, +The Roman fleets at Actium did engage; +They, for the empire of the world they knew, +These, for the Old contend, and for the New. +At the first shock, with blood and powder stain'd, +Nor heaven, nor sea, their former face retain'd; +Fury and art produce effects so strange, +They trouble Nature, and her visage change. 120 +Where burning ships the banish'd sun supply, +And no light shines, but that by which men die, +There York appears! so prodigal is he +Of royal blood, as ancient as the sea, +Which down to him, so many ages told, +Has through the veins of mighty monarchs roll'd! +The great Achilles march'd not to the field +Till Vulcan that impenetrable shield, +And arms, had wrought; yet there no bullets flew, +But shafts and darts which the weak Phrygians threw, 130 +Our bolder hero on the deck does stand +Exposed, the bulwark of his native land; +Defensive arms laid by as useless here, +Where massy balls the neighb'ring rocks do tear. +Some power unseen those princes does protect, +Who for their country thus themselves neglect. + +Against him first Opdam his squadron leads, +Proud of his late success against the Swedes; +Made by that action, and his high command, +Worthy to perish by a prince's hand. 140 +The tall Batavian in a vast ship rides, +Bearing an army in her hollow sides; + +Yet, not inclined the English ship to board, +More on his guns relies than on his sword; +From whence a fatal volley we received; +It miss'd the Duke, but his great heart it grieved; +Three worthy persons from his side it tore, +And dyed his garment with their scatter'd gore. +Happy! to whom this glorious death arrives, +More to be valued than a thousand lives! 150 +On such a theatre as this to die, +For such a cause, and such a witness by! +Who would not thus a sacrifice be made, +To have his blood on such an altar laid? +The rest about him struck with horror stood, +To see their leader cover'd o'er with blood. +So trembled Jacob, when he thought the stains +Of his son's coat had issued from his veins. +He feels no wound but in his troubled thought; +Before, for honour, now, revenge he fought; 160 +His friends in pieces torn (the bitter news +Not brought by Fame), with his own eyes he views. +His mind at once reflecting on their youth, +Their worth, their love, their valour, and their truth, +The joys of court, their mothers, and their wives, +To follow him abandon'd--and their lives! +He storms and shoots, but flying bullets now, +To execute his rage, appear too slow; +They miss, or sweep but common souls away; +For such a loss Opdam his life must pay. 170 +Encouraging his men, he gives the word, +With fierce intent that hated ship to board, +And make the guilty Dutch, with his own arm, +Wait on his friends, while yet their blood is warm. +His winged vessel like an eagle shows, +When through the clouds to truss a swan she goes; + +The Belgian ship unmoved, like some huge rock 177 +Inhabiting the sea, expects the shock. +From both the fleets men's eyes are bent this way, +Neglecting all the business of the day; +Bullets their flight, and guns their noise suspend; +The silent ocean does th'event attend, +Which leader shall the doubtful victory bless, +And give an earnest of the war's success; +When Heaven itself, for England to declare, +Turns ship, and men, and tackle, into air. + +Their new commander from his charge is toss'd, +Which that young prince[2] had so unjustly lost, +Whose great progenitors, with better fate, +And better conduct, sway'd their infant state. 190 +His flight t'wards heaven th'aspiring Belgian took, +But fell, like Phaeton, with thunder strook; +From vaster hopes than his he seemed to fall, +That durst attempt the British Admiral; +From her broad sides a ruder flame is thrown +Than from the fiery chariot of the sun; +That bears the radiant ensign of the day, +And she the flag that governs in the sea. + +The Duke (ill pleased that fire should thus prevent +The work which for his brighter sword he meant), 200 +Anger still burning in his valiant breast, +Goes to complete revenge upon the rest. +So on the guardless herd, their keeper slain, +Rushes a tiger in the Libyan plain. +The Dutch, accustom'd to the raging sea, +And in black storms the frowns of heaven to see, +Never met tempest which more urged' their fears. +Than that which in the Prince's look appears. + +Fierce, goodly, young! Mars he resembles, when 209 +Jove sends him down to scourge perfidious men; +Such as with foul ingratitude have paid +Both those that led, and those that gave them aid. +Where he gives on, disposing of their fates, +Terror and death on his loud cannon waits, +With which he pleads his brother's cause so well, +He shakes the throne to which he does appeal. +The sea with spoils his angry bullets strow, +Widows and orphans making as they go; +Before his ship fragments of vessels torn, +Flags, arms, and Belgian carcasses are borne; 220 +And his despairing foes, to flight inclined, +Spread all their canvas to invite the wind. +So the rude Boreas, where he lists to blow, +Makes clouds above, and billows fly below, +Beating the shore; and, with a boist'rous rage, +Does heaven at once, and earth, and sea engage. + +The Dutch, elsewhere, did through the wat'ry field +Perform enough to have made others yield; +But English courage, growing as they fight, +In danger, noise, and slaughter, takes delight; 230 +Their bloody task, unwearied still, they ply, +Only restrain'd by death, or victory. +Iron and lead, from earth's dark entrails torn, +Like showers of hail from either side are borne; +So high the rage of wretched mortals goes, +Hurling their mother's bowels at their foes! +Ingenious to their ruin, every age +Improves the arts and instruments of rage. +Death-hast'ning ills Nature enough has sent, +And yet men still a thousand more invent! 240 + +But Bacchus now, which led the Belgians on, +So fierce at first, to favour us begun; +Brandy and wine (their wonted friends) at length +Render them useless, and betray their strength. +So corn in fields, and in the garden flowers, +Revive and raise themselves with mod'rate showers; +But overcharged with never-ceasing rain, +Become too moist, and bend their heads again. +Their reeling ships on one another fall, +Without a foe, enough to ruin all. 250 +Of this disorder, and the favouring wind, +The watchful English such advantage find, +Ships fraught with fire among the heap they throw, +And up the so-entangled Belgians blow. +The flame invades the powder-rooms, and then, +Their guns shoot bullets, and their vessels men. +The scorch'd Batavians on the billows float, +Sent from their own, to pass in Charon's boat. + +And now, our royal Admiral success +(With all the marks of victory) does bless; 260 +The burning ships, the taken, and the slain, +Proclaim his triumph o'er the conquer'd main. +Nearer to Holland, as their hasty flight +Carries the noise and tumult of the fight, +His cannons' roar, forerunner of his fame, +Makes their Hague tremble, and their Amsterdam; +The British thunder does their houses rock, +And the Duke seems at every door to knock. +His dreadful streamer (like a comet's hair, +Threatening destruction) hastens their despair; 270 +Makes them deplore their scatter'd fleet as lost, +And fear our present landing on their coast. +The trembling Dutch th'approaching Prince behold, +As sheep a lion leaping tow'rds their fold; +Those piles, which serve them to repel the main, +They think too weak his fury to restrain. + +'What wonders may not English valour work, 277 +Led by th'example of victorious York? +Or what defence against him can they make, +Who, at such distance, does their country shake? +His fatal hand their bulwarks will o'erthrow, +And let in both the ocean, and the foe;' +Thus cry the people;--and, their land to keep, +Allow our title to command the deep; +Blaming their States' ill conduct, to provoke +Those arms, which freed them from the Spanish yoke. + +Painter! excuse me, if I have a while +Forgot thy art, and used another style; +For, though you draw arm'd heroes as they sit, +The task in battle does the Muses fit; 290 +They, in the dark confusion of a fight, +Discover all, instruct us how to write; +And light and honour to brave actions yield, +Hid in the smoke and tumult of the field, +Ages to come shall know that leader's toil, +And his great name, on whom the Muses smile; +Their dictates here let thy famed pencil trace, +And this relation with thy colours grace. + +Then draw the Parliament, the nobles met, +And our great Monarch high above them set; 300 +Like young Augustus let his image be, +Triumphing for that victory at sea, +Where Egypt's Queen,[3] and Eastern kings o'erthrown, +Made the possession of the world his own. +Last draw the Commons at his royal feet, +Pouring out treasure to supply his fleet; +They vow with lives and fortunes to maintain +Their King's eternal title to the main; +And with a present to the Duke, approve 309 +His valour, conduct, and his country's love. + +[1] See History of England. +[2] 'Young prince': Prince of Orange. +[3] 'Egypt's Queen': Cleopatra. + + + + +OF ENGLISH VERSE. + + +1 Poets may boast, as safely vain, + Their works shall with the world remain: + Both, bound together, live or die, + The verses and the prophecy. + +2 But who can hope his line should long + Last in a daily changing tongue? + While they are new, envy prevails; + And as that dies, our language fails. + +3 When architects have done their part, + The matter may betray their art; + Time, if we use ill-chosen stone, + Soon brings a well-built palace down. + +4 Poets that lasting marble seek, + Must carve in Latin, or in Greek; + We write in sand, our language grows, + And like the tide, our work o'erflows. + +5 Chaucer his sense can only boast; + The glory of his numbers lost! + Years have defaced his matchless strain; + And yet he did not sing in vain. + +6 The beauties which adorn'd that age, + The shining subjects of his rage, + Hoping they should immortal prove, + Rewarded with success his love. + +7 This was the gen'rous poet's scope; + And all an English pen can hope, + To make the fair approve his flame, + That can so far extend their fame. + +8 Verse, thus design'd, has no ill fate, + If it arrive but at the date + Of fading beauty; if it prove + But as long-lived as present love. + + + + +THESE VERSES WERE WRIT IN THE TASSO OF HER ROYAL HIGHNESS. + + +Tasso knew how the fairer sex to grace, +But in no one durst all perfection place. +In her alone that owns this book is seen +Clorinda's spirit, and her lofty mien, +Sophronia's piety, Erminia's truth, +Armida's charms, her beauty, and her youth. + +Our Princess here, as in a glass, does dress +Her well-taught mind, and every grace express. +More to our wonder than Rinaldo fought, +The hero's race excels the poet's thought. + + + + +THE TRIPLE COMBAT.[1] + + +When through the world fair Mazarin had run, +Bright as her fellow-traveller, the sun, +Hither at length the Roman eagle flies, +As the last triumph of her conqu'ring eyes. +As heir to Julius, she may pretend +A second time to make this island bend; +But Portsmouth, springing from the ancient race +Of Britons, which the Saxon here did chase, +As they great Caesar did oppose, makes head, +And does against this new invader lead. 10 +That goodly nymph, the taller of the two, +Careless and fearless to the field does go. +Becoming blushes on the other wait, +And her young look excuses want of height. +Beauty gives courage; for she knows the day +Must not be won the Amazonian way. +Legions of Cupids to the battle come, +For Little Britain these, and those for Rome. +Dress'd to advantage, this illustrious pair +Arrived, for combat in the list appear. 20 +What may the Fates design! for never yet +From distant regions two such beauties met. +Venus had been an equal friend to both, +And vict'ry to declare herself seems loth; +Over the camp, with doubtful wings, she flies, +Till Chloris shining in the fields she spies. +The lovely Chloris well-attended came, +A thousand Graces waited on the dame; +Her matchless form made all the English glad, 29 +And foreign beauties less assurance had; +Yet, like the Three on Ida's top, they all +Pretend alike, contesting for the ball; +Which to determine, Love himself declined, +Lest the neglected should become less kind. +Such killing looks! so thick the arrows fly! +That 'tis unsafe to be a stander-by. +Poets, approaching to describe the fight, +Are by their wounds instructed how to write. +They with less hazard might look on, and draw +The ruder combats in Alsatia; 40 +And, with that foil of violence and rage, +Set off the splendour of our golden age; +Where Love gives law, Beauty the sceptre sways, +And, uncompell'd, the happy world obeys. + +[1] 'Triple combat': the Duchess of Mazarin was a divorced demirep, who + came to England with some designs on Charles II., in which she was + counteracted by the Duchess of Portsmouth. + + + + +UPON OUR LATE LOSS OF THE DUKE OF CAMBRIDGE.[1] + + +The failing blossoms which a young plant bears, +Engage our hope for the succeeding years; +And hope is all which art or nature brings, +At the first trial, to accomplish things. +Mankind was first created an essay; +That ruder draught the Deluge wash'd away. +How many ages pass'd, what blood and toil, +Before we made one kingdom of this isle! +How long in vain had nature striven to frame +A perfect princess, ere her Highness came! +For joys so great we must with patience wait; +'Tis the set price of happiness complete. +As a first fruit, Heaven claim'd that lovely boy; +The next shall live, and be the nation's joy. + +[1] 'Duke of Cambridge': The Duke of York's second son by Mary d'Este. + He died when he was only a month old, November 1677. + + + + +OF THE LADY MARY, PRINCESS OF ORANGE.[1] + + +1 As once the lion honey gave, + Out of the strong such sweetness came; + A royal hero, no less brave, + Produced this sweet, this lovely dame. + +2 To her the prince, that did oppose + Such mighty armies in the field, + And Holland from prevailing foes + Could so well free, himself does yield. + +3 Not Belgia's fleet (his high command) + Which triumphs where the sun does rise, + Nor all the force he leads by land, + Could guard him from her conqu'ring eyes. + +4 Orange, with youth, experience has; + In action young, in council old; + Orange is, what Augustus was, + Brave, wary, provident, and bold. + +5 On that fair tree which bears his name, + Blossoms and fruit at once are found; + In him we all admire the same, + His flow'ry youth with wisdom crown'd! + +6 Empire and freedom reconciled + In Holland are by great Nassau; + Like those he sprung from, just and mild, + To willing people he gives law. + +7 Thrice happy pair! so near allied + In royal blood, and virtue too! + Now love has you together tied, + May none this triple knot undo! + +8 The church shall be the happy place + Where streams, which from the same source run, + Though divers lands a while they grace, + Unite again, and are made one. + +9 A thousand thanks the nation owes + To him that does protect us all; + For while he thus his niece bestows, + About our isle he builds a wall; + +10 A wall! like that which Athens had, + By th'oracle's advice, of wood; + Had theirs been such as Charles has made, + That mighty state till now had stood. + +[1] 'Princess of Orange': The Princess Mary was married to the Prince of + Orange at St. James's, in November 1677. + + + + +UPON BEN JONSON. + + +Mirror of poets! mirror of our age! +Which her whole face beholding on thy stage, +Pleased and displeased with her own faults, endures +A remedy like those whom music cures. +Thou hast alone those various inclinations +Which Nature gives to ages, sexes, nations; +So traced with thy all-resembling pen, +That whate'er custom has imposed on men, +Or ill-got habit (which deforms them so, +That scarce a brother can his brother know) 10 +Is represented to the wond'ring eyes +Of all that see, or read, thy comedies. +Whoever in those glasses looks, may find +The spots return'd, or graces, of his mind; +And by the help of so divine an art, +At leisure view, and dress, his nobler part. +Narcissus, cozen'd by that flatt'ring well, +Which nothing could but of his beauty tell, +Had here, discov'ring the deformed estate +Of his fond mind, preserved himself with hate. 20 +But virtue too, as well as vice, is clad +In flesh and blood so well, that Plato had +Beheld, what his high fancy once embraced, +Virtue with colours, speech, and motion graced. +The sundry postures of thy copious Muse +Who would express, a thousand tongues must use; +Whose fate's no less peculiar than thy art; +For as thou couldst all characters impart, +So none could render thine, which still escapes, +Like Proteus, in variety of shapes; 30 +Who was nor this nor that; but all we find, +And all we can imagine, in mankind. + + + + +ON MR JOHN FLETCHER'S PLAYS. + + +Fletcher! to thee we do not only owe +All these good plays, but those of others too; +Thy wit repeated does support the stage, +Credits the last, and entertains this age. +No worthies, form'd by any Muse but thine, +Could purchase robes to make themselves so fine. + +What brave commander is not proud to see +Thy brave Melantius in his gallantry? +Our greatest ladies love to see their scorn +Outdone by thine, in what themselves have worn; 10 +Th' impatient widow, ere the year be done, +Sees thy Aspasia weeping in her gown. + +I never yet the tragic strain essay'd, +Deterr'd by that inimitable Maid;[1] +And when I venture at the comic style, +Thy Scornful Lady seems to mock my toil. + +Thus has thy Muse at once improved and marr'd +Our sport in plays, by rend'ring it too hard! +So when a sort of lusty shepherds throw +The bar by turns, and none the rest outgo 20 +So far, but that the best are measuring casts, +Their emulation and their pastime lasts; +But if some brawny yeoman of the guard +Step in, and toss the axletree a yard, +Or more, beyond the furthest mark, the rest +Despairing stand; their sport is at the best. + +[1] 'Inimitable Maid': the _Maid's Tragedy_, the joint production + of Beaumont and Fletcher. + + + + +UPON THE EARL OF ROSCOMMON'S TRANSLATION OF HORACE, 'DE ARTE POETICA;' +AND OF THE USE OF POETRY. + + +Rome was not better by her Horace taught, +Than we are here to comprehend his thought; +The poet writ to noble Piso there; +A noble Piso does instruct us here, +Gives us a pattern in his flowing style, +And with rich precepts does oblige our isle: +Britain! whose genius is in verse express'd, +Bold and sublime, but negligently dress'd. + +Horace will our superfluous branches prune, 10 +Give us new rules, and set our harp in tune; +Direct us how to back the winged horse, +Favour his flight, and moderate his force. + +Though poets may of inspiration boast, +Their rage, ill-govern'd, in the clouds is lost. +He that proportion'd wonders can disclose, +At once his fancy and his judgment shows. +Chaste moral writing we may learn from hence, +Neglect of which no wit can recompense. +The fountain which from Helicon proceeds, +That sacred stream! should never water weeds, 20 +Nor make the crop of thorns and thistles grow, +Which envy or perverted nature sow. + +Well-sounding verses are the charm we use, +Heroic thoughts and virtue to infuse; +Things of deep sense we may in prose unfold, +But they move more in lofty numbers told. +By the loud trumpet, which our courage aids, +We learn that sound, as well as sense, persuades. + +The Muses' friend, unto himself severe, +With silent pity looks on all that err; 30 +But where a brave, a public action shines, +That he rewards with his immortal lines. +Whether it be in council or in fight, +His country's honour is his chief delight; +Praise of great acts he scatters as a seed, +Which may the like in coming ages breed. + +Here taught the fate of verses (always prized +With admiration, or as much despised), +Men will be less indulgent to their faults, +And patience have to cultivate their thoughts. 40 +Poets lose half the praise they should have got, +Could it be known what they discreetly blot; +Finding new words, that to the ravish'd ear +May like the language of the gods appear, +Such as, of old, wise bards employ'd, to make +Unpolish'd men their wild retreats forsake; +Law-giving heroes, famed for taming brutes, +And raising cities with their charming lutes; +For rudest minds with harmony were caught, +And civil life was by the Muses taught. 50 +So wand'ring bees would perish in the air, +Did not a sound, proportion'd to their ear, +Appease their rage, invite them to the hive, +Unite their force, and teach them how to thrive, +To rob the flowers, and to forbear the spoil, +Preserved in winter by their summer's toil; +They give us food, which may with nectar vie, +And wax, that does the absent sun supply. + + + + +ON THE DUKE OF MONMOUTH'S EXPEDITION INTO SCOTLAND IN THE SUMMER +SOLSTICE. + + +Swift as Jove's messenger (the winged god), +With sword as potent as his charmed rod, +He flew to execute the King's command, +And in a moment reach'd that northern land, +Where day contending with approaching night, +Assists the hero with continued light. + +On foes surprised, and by no night conceal'd, +He might have rush'd; but noble pity held +His hand a while, and to their choice gave space, +Which they would prove, his valour or his grace. 10 +This not well heard, his cannon louder spoke, +And then, like lightning, through that cloud he broke. +His fame, his conduct, and that martial look, +The guilty Scots with such a terror strook, +That to his courage they resign the field, +Who to his bounty had refused to yield. +Glad that so little loyal blood it cost, +He grieves so many Britons should be lost; +Taking more pains, when he beheld them yield, +To save the flyers, than to win the field; 20 +And at the Court his int'rest does employ, +That none, who 'scaped his fatal sword, should die. + +And now, these rash bold men their error find, +Not trusting one beyond his promise kind; +One! whose great mind, so bountiful and brave, +Had learn'd the art to conquer and to save. + +In vulgar breasts no royal virtues dwell; +Such deeds as these his high extraction tell, +And give a secret joy to him that reigns, +To see his blood triumph in Monmouth's veins; 30 +To see a leader whom he got and chose, +Firm to his friends, and fatal to his foes. + +But seeing envy, like the sun, does beat, +With scorching rays, on all that's high and great, +This, ill-requited Monmouth! is the bough +The Muses send to shade thy conqu'ring brow. +Lampoons, like squibs, may make a present blaze; +But time and thunder pay respect to bays. +Achilles' arms dazzle our present view, +Kept by the Muse as radiant and as new 40 +As from the forge of Vulcan first they came; +Thousands of years are past, and they the same; +Such care she takes to pay desert with fame! +Than which no monarch, for his crown's defence, +Knows how to give a nobler recompence. + + + + +OF AN ELEGY MADE BY MRS WHARTON[1] ON THE EARL OF ROCHESTER. + + +Thus mourn the Muses! on the hearse +Not strewing tears, but lasting verse, +Which so preserve the hero's name, +They make him live again in fame. + +Chloris, in lines so like his own, +Gives him so just and high renown, +That she th'afflicted world relieves, +And shows that still in her he lives; +Her wit as graceful, great, and good; +Allied in genius, as in blood.[2] + +His loss supplied, now all our fears +Are, that the nymph should melt in tears. +Then, fairest Chloris! comfort take, +For his, your own, and for our sake, +Lest his fair soul, that lives in you, +Should from the world for ever go. +[1] 'Mrs. Wharton': the daughter, and co-heiress with the Countess of + Abingdon, of Sir Henry Lee, of Ditchley, in Oxfordshire. +[2] 'In blood': the Earl of Rochester's mother was Mrs. Wharton's grand + aunt. + + + + +OF HER MAJESTY, ON NEW-YEAR'S DAY, 1683. + + +What revolutions in the world have been, +How are we changed since we first saw the Queen! +She, like the sun, does still the same appear, +Bright as she was at her arrival here! +Time has commission mortals to impair, +But things celestial is obliged to spare. + +May every new year find her still the same +In health and beauty as she hither came! +When Lords and Commons, with united voice, +Th' Infanta named, approved the royal choice;[1] +First of our Queens whom not the King alone, +But the whole nation, lifted to the throne. + +With like consent, and like desert, was crown'd +The glorious Prince[2] that does the Turk confound. +Victorious both! his conduct wins the day, +And her example chases vice away; +Though louder fame attend the martial rage, +'Tis greater glory to reform the age. + +[1] 'Royal choice': a royal message, announcing the king's intention to + marry the Infanta of Portugal, was delivered in Parliament in May + 1661. +[2] 'Prince': John Sobieski, king of Poland. + + + + +OF TEA, COMMENDED BY HER MAJESTY. + + +Venus her myrtle, Phoebus has his bays; +Tea both excels, which she vouchsafes to praise. +The best of Queens, and best of herbs, we owe +To that bold nation which the way did show +To the fair region where the sun does rise, +Whose rich productions we so justly prize. +The Muse's friend, tea does our fancy aid, +Repress those vapours which the head invade, +And keeps that palace of the soul serene, +Fit on her birth-day to salute the Queen. + + + + +OF THE INVASION AND DEFEAT OF THE TURKS, IN THE YEAR 1683.[1] + + +The modern Nimrod, with a safe delight +Pursuing beasts, that save themselves by flight, +Grown proud, and weary of his wonted game, +Would Christians chase, and sacrifice to fame. + +A prince, with eunuchs and the softer sex +Shut up so long, would warlike nations vex, +Provoke the German, and, neglecting heaven, +Forget the truce for which his oath was given. + +His Grand Vizier, presuming to invest +The chief imperial city of the west, 10 +With the first charge compell'd in haste to rise, +His treasure, tents, and cannon, left a prize; +The standard lost, and janizaries slain, +Render the hopes he gave his master vain. +The flying Turks, that bring the tidings home, +Renew the memory of his father's doom; +And his guard murmurs, that so often brings +Down from the throne their unsuccessful kings. + +The trembling Sultan's forced to expiate +His own ill-conduct by another's fate. 20 +The Grand Vizier, a tyrant, though a slave, +A fair example to his master gave; +He Bassa's head, to save his own, made fly, +And now, the Sultan to preserve, must die. + +The fatal bowstring was not in his thought, +When, breaking truce, he so unjustly fought; +Made the world tremble with a numerous host, +And of undoubted victory did boast. + +Strangled he lies! yet seems to cry aloud, 29 +To warn the mighty, and instruct the proud, +That of the great, neglecting to be just, +Heaven in a moment makes a heap of dust. + +The Turks so low, why should the Christians lose +Such an advantage of their barb'rous foes? +Neglect their present ruin to complete, +Before another Solyman they get? +Too late they would with shame, repenting, dread +That numerous herd, by such a lion led; +He Rhodes and Buda from the Christians tore, +Which timely union might again restore. 40 + +But, sparing Turks, as if with rage possess'd, +The Christians perish, by themselves oppress'd; +Cities and provinces so dearly won, +That the victorious people are undone! + +What angel shall descend to reconcile +The Christian states, and end their guilty toil? +A prince more fit from heaven we cannot ask +Than Britain's king, for such a glorious task; +His dreadful navy, and his lovely mind, +Give him the fear and favour of mankind; 50 +His warrant does the Christian faith defend; +On that relying, all their quarrels end. +The peace is sign'd,[2] and Britain does obtain +What Rome had sought from her fierce sons in vain. + +In battles won Fortune a part doth claim, +And soldiers have their portion in the same; +In this successful union we find +Only the triumph of a worthy mind. +'Tis all accomplish'd by his royal word, +Without unsheathing the destructive sword; 60 + +Without a tax upon his subjects laid, +Their peace disturb'd, their plenty, or their trade. +And what can they to such a prince deny, +With whose desires the greatest kings comply? + +The arts of peace are not to him unknown; +This happy way he march'd into the throne; +And we owe more to Heaven than to the sword, +The wish'd return of so benign a lord. + +Charles! by old Greece with a new freedom graced, +Above her antique heroes shall be placed. 70 +What Theseus did, or Theban Hercules, +Holds no compare with this victorious peace, +Which on the Turks shall greater honour gain, +Than all their giants and their monsters slain: +Those are bold tales, in fabulous ages told; +This glorious act the living do behold. + +[1] 'Year 1683': see History. +[2] 'Peace is signed': the Peace of Nimeguen. + + + + +A PRESAGE OF THE RUIN OF THE TURKISH EMPIRE; +PRESENTED TO HIS MAJESTY KING JAMES II. ON HIS BIRTHDAY. + + +Since James the Second graced the British throne, +Truce, well observed, has been infring'd by none; +Christians to him their present union owe, +And late success against the common foe; +While neighb'ring princes, both to urge their fate, +Court his assistance, and suspend their hate. +So angry bulls the combat do forbear, +When from the wood a lion does appear. + +This happy day peace to our island sent, +As now he gives it to the Continent. 10 +A prince more fit for such a glorious task, +Than England's king, from Heaven we cannot ask; +He, great and good! proportion'd to the work, +Their ill-drawn swords shall turn against the Turk. + +Such kings, like stars with influence unconfined, +Shine with aspect propitious to mankind; +Favour the innocent, repress the bold, +And, while they flourish, make an age of gold. + +Bred in the camp, famed for his valour, young; +At sea successful, vigorous, and strong; 20 +His fleet, his array, and his mighty mind, +Esteem and rev'rence through the world do find. +A prince with such advantages as these, +Where he persuades not, may command a peace. +Britain declaring for the juster side, +The most ambitious will forget their pride; +They that complain will their endeavours cease, +Advised by him, inclined to present peace, +Join to the Turk's destruction, and then bring +All their pretences to so just a king. 30 + +If the successful troublers of mankind, +With laurel crown'd, so great applause do find, +Shall the vex'd world less honour yield to those +That stop their progress, and their rage oppose? +Next to that power which does the ocean awe, +Is to set bounds, and give ambition law. + +The British monarch shall the glory have, +That famous Greece remains no longer slave; +That source of art and cultivated thought! +Which they to Rome, and Romans hither brought. 40 + +The banish'd Muses shall no longer mourn, +But may with liberty to Greece return; +Though slaves (like birds that sing not in a cage), +They lost their genius, and poetic rage; +Homers again, and Pindars, may be found, +And his great actions with their numbers crown'd. + +The Turk's vast empire does united stand; +Christians, divided under the command +Of jarring princes, would be soon undone, +Did not this hero make their int'rest one; 50 +Peace to embrace, ruin the common foe, +Exalt the Cross, and lay the Crescent low. + +Thus may the Gospel to the rising sun +Be spread, and flourish where it first began; +And this great day, (so justly honour'd here!) +Known to the East, and celebrated there. + + Haec ego longaevus cecini tibi, maxime regum! + Ausus et ipse manu juvenum tentare laborem.--VIRG. + + + + + +EPISTLES. + + + + +TO THE KING, ON HIS NAVY. + + +Where'er thy navy spreads her canvas wings, +Homage to thee, and peace to all she brings; +The French and Spaniard, when thy flags appear, +Forget their hatred, and consent to fear. +So Jove from Ida did both hosts survey, +And when he pleased to thunder, part the fray. +Ships heretofore in seas like fishes sped, +The mightiest still upon the smallest fed; +Thou on the deep imposest nobler laws, +And by that justice hast removed the cause 10 +Of those rude tempests, which for rapine sent, +Too oft, alas! involved the innocent. +Now shall the ocean, as thy Thames, be free +From both those fates, of storms and piracy. + +But we most happy, who can fear no force +But winged troops, or Pegasean horse. +'Tis not so hard for greedy foes to spoil +Another nation, as to touch our soil. +Should Nature's self invade the world again, +And o'er the centre spread the liquid main, 20 +Thy power were safe, and her destructive hand +Would but enlarge the bounds of thy command; +Thy dreadful fleet would style thee lord of all, +And ride in triumph o'er the drowned ball; +Those towers of oak o'er fertile plains might go, +And visit mountains where they once did grow. + +The world's Restorer once could not endure +That finish'd Babel should those men secure, +Whose pride design'd that fabric to have stood +Above the reach of any second flood; 30 +To thee, his chosen, more indulgent, he +Dares trust such power with so much piety. + + + + +TO MR HENRY LAWES,[1] WHO HAD THEN NEWLY SET A SONG OF MINE IN THE YEAR +1635. + + +Verse makes heroic virtue live; +But you can life to verses give. +As when in open air we blow, +The breath, though strain'd, sounds flat and low; +But if a trumpet take the blast, +It lifts it high, and makes it last: +So in your airs our numbers dress'd, +Make a shrill sally from the breast +Of nymphs, who, singing what we penn'd, +Our passions to themselves commend; 10 +While love, victorious with thy art, +Governs at once their voice and heart. + +You by the help of tune and time, +Can make that song that was but rhyme. +Noy[2] pleading, no man doubts the cause; +Or questions verses set by Lawes. + +As a church window, thick with paint, +Lets in a light but dim and faint; +So others, with division, hide +The light of sense, the poet's pride: 20 +But you alone may proudly boast +That not a syllable is lost; +The writer's and the setter's skill +At once the ravish'd ears do fill. +Let those which only warble long, +And gargle in their throats a song, +Content themselves with Ut, Re, Mi:[3] +Let words, and sense, be set by thee. +[1] 'Lawes': an eminent musical composer, who composed the music for + Milton's Comus. +[2] 'Noy': Attorney-General to Charles I., had died in 1635. By a + poetical licence Waller represents him still pleading. +[3] 'Ut, Re, Mi': Lawes opposed the Italian music. + + + + +THE COUNTRY TO MY LADY CARLISLE.[1] + + +1 Madam, of all the sacred Muse inspired, + Orpheus alone could with the woods comply; + Their rude inhabitants his song admired, + And Nature's self, in those that could not lie: + Your beauty next our solitude invades, + And warms us, shining through the thickest shades. + +2 Nor ought the tribute, which the wond'ring Court + Pays your fair eyes, prevail with you to scorn + The answer and consent to that report + Which, echo-like, the country does return: + Mirrors are taught to flatter, but our springs + Present th'impartial images of things. + +3 A rural judge disposed of beauty's prize; + A simple shepherd was preferr'd to Jove; + Down to the mountains from the partial skies, + Came Juno, Pallas, and the Queen of Love, + To plead for that which was so justly given + To the bright Carlisle of the court of heaven. + +4 Carlisle! a name which all our woods are taught, + Loud as their Amaryllis, to resound; + Carlisle! a name which on the bark is wrought + Of every tree that's worthy of the wound. + From Phoebus' rage our shadows and our streams + May guard us better than from Carlisle's beams. + +[1] 'Lady Carlisle': the Lady Lucy Percy, daughter of the Earl of + Northumberland, married against her father's wishes to the Earl of + Carlisle. She was a wit and _intriguante_. + + + + +TO PHYLLIS. + + +Phyllis! 'twas love that injured you, +And on that rock your Thrysis threw; +Who for proud Celia could have died, +While you no less accused his pride. + +Fond Love his darts at random throws, +And nothing springs from what he sows; +From foes discharged, as often meet +The shining points of arrows fleet, +In the wide air creating fire, +As souls that join in one desire. 10 + +Love made the lovely Venus burn +In vain, and for the cold youth[1] mourn, +Who the pursuit of churlish beasts +Preferr'd to sleeping on her breasts. + +Love makes so many hearts the prize +Of the bright Carlisle's conqu'ring eyes, +Which she regards no more than they +The tears of lesser beauties weigh. +So have I seen the lost clouds pour +Into the sea an useless shower; 20 +And the vex'd sailors curse the rain +For which poor shepherds pray'd in vain. + +Then, Phyllis, since our passions are +Govern'd by chance, and not the care, +But sport of heaven, which takes delight +To look upon this Parthian fight +Of love, still flying, or in chase, +Never encount'ring face to face; +No more to Love we'll sacrifice, +But to the best of deities; 30 +And let our hearts, which Love disjoin'd, +By his kind mother be combin'd. + +[1] 'Cold youth ': Adonis. + + + + +TO THE QUEEN-MOTHER OF FRANCE, UPON HER LANDING.[1] + + +Great Queen of Europe! where thy offspring wears +All the chief crowns; where princes are thy heirs; +As welcome thou to sea-girt Britain's shore, +As erst Latona (who fair Cynthia bore) +To Delos was; here shines a nymph as bright, +By thee disclosed, with like increase of light. +Why was her joy in Belgia confined? +Or why did you so much regard the wind? +Scarce could the ocean, though enraged, have toss'd +Thy sov'reign bark, but where th'obsequious coast 10 +Pays tribute to thy bed. Rome's conqu'ring hand +More vanquished nations under her command +Never reduced. Glad Berecynthia so +Among her deathless progeny did go; +A wreath of towers adorn'd her rev'rend head, +Mother of all that on ambrosia fed. +Thy godlike race must sway the age to come, +As she Olympus peopled with her womb. + +Would those commanders of mankind obey +Their honour'd parent, all pretences lay 20 +Down at your royal feet, compose their jars, +And on the growing Turk discharge these wars; +The Christian knights that sacred tomb should wrest +From Pagan hands, and triumph o'er the East; +Our England's Prince, and Gallia's Dolphin, might +Like young Rinaldo and Tancredi fight; +In single combat by their swords again +The proud Argantes and fierce Soldan slain; +Again might we their valiant deeds recite, +And with your Tuscan Muse[2] exalt the fight. 30 + +[2] 'Her landing': Mary de Medicis, widow of Henry IV., and mother of + the King of France, and of the Queens of England and Spain, coming + to England in 1638, was very ill received by the people, and forced + ultimately to leave the country. +[2] 'Tuscan Muse': Tasso. + + + + +TO VANDYCK.[1] + + +Rare Artisan, whose pencil moves +Not our delights alone, but loves! +From thy shop of beauty we +Slaves return, that enter'd free. +The heedless lover does not know +Whose eyes they are that wound him so; +But, confounded with thy art, +Inquires her name that has his heart. +Another, who did long refrain, +Feels his old wound bleed fresh again 10 +With dear remembrance of that face, +Where now he reads new hope of grace: +Nor scorn nor cruelty does find, +But gladly suffers a false wind +To blow the ashes of despair +From the reviving brand of care. +Fool! that forgets her stubborn look +This softness from thy finger took. +Strange! that thy hand should not inspire +The beauty only, but the fire; 20 +Not the form alone, and grace, +But act and power of a face. +Mayst thou yet thyself as well, +As all the world besides, excel! +So you th'unfeigned truth rehearse +(That I may make it live in verse), +Why thou couldst not at one assay,[2] +The face to aftertimes convey, +Which this admires. Was it thy wit +To make her oft before thee sit? 30 +Confess, and we'll forgive thee this; +For who would not repeat that bliss, +And frequent sight of such a dame +Buy with the hazard of his fame? +Yet who can tax thy blameless skill, +Though thy good hand had failed still, +When Nature's self so often errs? +She for this many thousand years 38 +Seems to have practised with much care, +To frame the race of women fair; +Yet never could a perfect birth +Produce before to grace the earth, +Which waxed old ere it could see +Her that amazed thy art and thee. +But now 'tis done, oh, let me know +Where those immortal colours grow, +That could this deathless piece compose! +In lilies? or the fading rose? +No; for this theft thou hast climb'd higher +Than did Prometheus for his fire. 50 + +[1] 'Vandyck': some think this refers to a picture of Saccharissa, by + Vandyck, in Hall-Barn. +[2] 'Assay': attempt. + + + + +TO MY LORD OF LEICESTER.[1] + + +1 Not that thy trees at Penshurst groan, + Oppressed with their timely load, + And seem to make their silent moan, + That their great lord is now abroad: + They to delight his taste, or eye, + Would spend themselves in fruit, and die. + +2 Not that thy harmless deer repine, + And think themselves unjustly slain + By any other hand than thine, + Whose arrows they would gladly stain; + No, nor thy friends, which hold too dear + That peace with France which keeps thee there. + +3 All these are less than that great cause + Which now exacts your presence here, + Wherein there meet the divers laws + Of public and domestic care. + For one bright nymph our youth contends, + And on your prudent choice depends. + +4 Not the bright shield of Thetis' son[2] + (For which such stern debate did rise, + That the great Ajax Telamon + Refused to live without the prize), + Those Achive peers did more engage + Than she the gallants of our age. + +5 That beam of beauty, which begun + To warm us so when thou wert here, + Now scorches like the raging sun, + When Sirius does first appear. + Oh, fix this flame! and let despair + Redeem the rest from endless care. + +[1] 'Lord of Leicester': Saccharissa's father. He was employed at this + time in foreign service. +[2] 'Thetis' son': Achilles. + + + + +TO MRS BRAUGHTON, SERVANT TO SACCHARISSA. + + +Fair fellow-servant! may your gentle ear +Prove more propitious to my slighted care +Than the bright dame's we serve: for her relief +(Vex'd with the long expressions of my grief) +Receive these plaints; nor will her high disdain +Forbid my humble Muse to court her train. + +So, in those nations which the sun adore, +Some modest Persian, or some weak-eyed Moor, +No higher dares advance his dazzled sight, +Than to some gilded cloud, which near the light 10 +Of their ascending god adorns the east, +And, graced with his beams, outshines the rest. + +Thy skilful hand contributes to our woe, +And whets those arrows which confound us so. +A thousand Cupids in those curls do sit +(Those curious nets!) thy slender fingers knit. +The Graces put not more exactly on +Th' attire of Venus, when the ball she won, +Than Saccharissa by thy care is dress'd, +When all our youth prefers her to the rest. 20 + +You the soft season know when best her mind +May be to pity, or to love, inclined: +In some well-chosen hour supply his fear, +Whose hopeless love durst never tempt the ear +Of that stern goddess. You, her priest, declare +What offerings may propitiate the fair; +Rich orient pearl, bright stones that ne'er decay, +Or polish'd lines, which longer last than they; +For if I thought she took delight in those, +To where the cheerful morn does first disclose, 30 +(The shady night removing with her beams), +Wing'd with bold love, I'd fly to fetch such gems. +But since her eyes, her teeth, her lip excels +All that is found in mines or fishes' shells, +Her nobler part as far exceeding these, +None but immortal gifts her mind should please. +The shining jewels Greece and Troy bestow'd +On Sparta's queen,[1] her lovely neck did load, +And snowy wrists; but when the town was burn'd, +Those fading glories were to ashes turn'd; 40 +Her beauty, too, had perished, and her fame, +Had not the Muse redeemed them from the flame. + +[1] 'Sparta's queen': Helen. + + + + +TO MY YOUNG LADY LUCY SIDNEY.[1] + + +1 Why came I so untimely forth + Into a world which, wanting thee, + Could entertain us with no worth + Or shadow of felicity? + That time should me so far remove + From that which I was born to love! + +2 Yet, fairest blossom! do not slight + That age which you may know so soon; + The rosy morn resigns her light + And milder glory to the noon; + And then what wonders shall you do, + Whose dawning beauty warms us so? + +3 Hope waits upon the flow'ry prime; + And summer, though it be less gay, + Yet is not look'd on as a time + Of declination or decay; + For with a full hand that does bring + All that was promised by the spring. + +[1] 'Lady Lucy Sidney': the younger sister of Lady Dorothea; afterwards + married to Sir John Pelham. + + + + +TO AMORET.[1] + + +Fair! that you may truly know +What you unto Thyrsis owe, +I will tell you how I do +Saccharissa love and you. + +Joy salutes me, when I set +My bless'd eyes on Amoret; +But with wonder I am strook, 7 +While I on the other look. + +If sweet Amoret complains, +I have sense of all her pains; +But for Saccharissa I +Do not only grieve, but die. + +All that of myself is mine, +Lovely Amoret! is thine; +Saccharissa's captive fain +Would untie his iron chain, +And, those scorching beams to shun, +To thy gentle shadow run. + +If the soul had free election +To dispose of her affection, 20 +I would not thus long have borne +Haughty Saccharissa's scorn; +But 'tis sure some power above, +Which controls our wills in love! + +If not love, a strong desire +To create and spread that fire +In my breast, solicits me, +Beauteous Amoret! for thee. + +'Tis amazement more than love, +Which her radiant eyes do move; 30 +If less splendour wait on thine, +Yet they so benignly shine, +I would turn my dazzled sight +To behold their milder light; +But as hard 'tis to destroy +That high flame, as to enjoy; +Which how eas'ly I may do, +Heaven (as eas'ly scaled) does know! + +Amoret! as sweet and good +As the most delicious food, 40 +Which, but tested, does impart +Life and gladness to the heart. + +Saccharissa's beauty's wine, +Which to madness doth incline; +Such a liquor as no brain +That is mortal can sustain. + +Scarce can I to heaven excuse +The devotion which I use +Unto that adored dame; +For 'tis not unlike the same 50 +Which I thither ought to send; +So that if it could take end, +'Twould to heaven itself be due +To succeed her, and not you, +Who already have of me +All that's not idolatry; +Which, though not so fierce a flame, +Is longer like to be the same. + +Then smile on me, and I will prove +Wonder is shorter-liv'd than love. 60 + +[1] 'Amoret': see 'Life.' + + + + +TO MY LORD OF FALKLAND.[1] + + +Brave Holland leads, and with him Falkland goes: +Who hears this told, and does not straight suppose +We send the Graces and the Muses forth +To civilise and to instruct the north? +Not that these ornaments make swords less sharp; +Apollo bears as well his bow as harp;[2] +And though he be the patron of that spring, +Where, in calm peace, the sacred virgins sing, +He courage had to guard th'invaded throne 9 +Of Jove, and cast th'ambitious giants down. + +Ah, noble friend! with what impatience all +That know thy worth, and know how prodigal +Of thy great soul thou art (longing to twist +Bays with that ivy which so early kiss'd +Thy youthful temples), with what horror we +Think on the blind events of war and thee! +To fate exposing that all-knowing breast +Among the throng, as cheaply as the rest; +Where oaks and brambles (if the copse be burn'd) +Confounded lie, to the same ashes turn'd. 20 + +Some happy wind over the ocean blow +This tempest yet, which frights our island so! +Guarded with ships, and all the sea our own, +From heaven this mischief on our heads is thrown. + +In a late dream, the genius of this land, +Amazed, I saw, like the fair Hebrew, stand, +When first she felt the twins begin to jar,[3] +And found her womb the seat of civil war. +Inclined to whose relief, and with presage +Of better fortune for the present age, 30 +Heaven sends, quoth I, this discord for our good, +To warm, perhaps, but not to waste our blood; +To raise our drooping spirits, grown the scorn +Of our proud neighbours, who ere long shall mourn +(Though now they joy in our expected harms) +We had occasion to resume our arms. + +A lion so with self-provoking smart +(His rebel tail scourging his nobler part) +Calls up his courage; then begins to roar, +And charge his foes, who thought him mad before. 40 + +[1] 'Lord of Falkland': referring to the unsuccessful expedition of + Charles I. against Scotland in 1639, frustrated by the cowardice or + treachery of Lord Holland. +[2] 'Bow as harp': Horace, Ode iv., lib. 3. +[3] 'Twins begin to jar': Gen. xxv. 22. + + + + +TO MY LORD NORTHUMBERLAND, UPON THE DEATH OF HIS LADY.[1] + + +To this great loss a sea of tears is due; +But the whole debt not to be paid by you. +Charge not yourself with all, nor render vain +Those show'rs the eyes of us your servants rain. +Shall grief contract the largeness of that heart, +In which nor fear, nor anger, has a part? +Virtue would blush if time should boast (which dries, +Her sole child dead, the tender mother's eyes) +Your mind's relief, where reason triumphs so +Over all passions, that they ne'er could grow 10 +Beyond their limits in your noble breast, +To harm another, or impeach your rest. +This we observed, delighting to obey +One who did never from his great self stray; +Whose mild example seemed to engage +Th' obsequious seas, and teach them not to rage. + +The brave Aemilius, his great charge laid down +(The force of Rome, and fate of Macedon), +In his lost sons did feel the cruel stroke +Of changing fortune, and thus highly spoke 20 +Before Rome's people: 'We did oft implore, +That if the heavens had any bad in store +For your Aemilius, they would pour that ill +On his own house, and let you flourish still.' +You on the barren seas, my lord, have spent +Whole springs and summers to the public lent; +Suspended all the pleasures of your life, +And shorten'd the short joy of such a wife; +For which your country's more obliged than 29 +For many lives of old less happy men. +You, that have sacrificed so great a part +Of youth, and private bliss, ought to impart +Your sorrow too, and give your friends a right +As well in your affliction as delight. +Then with Aemilian courage bear this cross, +Since public persons only public loss +Ought to affect. And though her form and youth, +Her application to your will, and truth, +That noble sweetness, and that humble state +(All snatch'd away by such a hasty fate!) 40 +Might give excuse to any common breast, +With the huge weight of so just grief oppress'd; +Yet let no portion of your life be stain'd +With passion, but your character maintain'd +To the last act. It is enough her stone +May honour'd be with superscription +Of the sole lady who had power to move +The great Northumberland to grieve, and love. + +[1] 'His lady': the Lady Anne Cecil, daughter of the Earl of Salisbury. + See a previous note. + + + + +TO MY LORD ADMIRAL, OF HIS LATE SICKNESS AND RECOVERY. + + +With joy like ours the Thracian youth invades +Orpheus, returning from th'Elysian shades; +Embrace the hero, and his stay implore; +Make it their public suit he would no more +Desert them so, and for his spouse's sake, +His vanish'd love, tempt the Lethean lake. +The ladies, too, the brightest of that time +(Ambitious all his lofty bed to climb), +Their doubtful hopes with expectation feed, 9 +Who shall the fair Eurydice succeed: +Eurydice! for whom his numerous moan +Makes list'ning trees and savage mountains groan; +Through all the air his sounding strings dilate +Sorrow, like that which touch'd our hearts of late. +Your pining sickness, and your restless pain, +At once the land affecting, and the main, +When the glad news that you were admiral +Scarce through the nation spread,[1] 'twas feared by all +That our great Charles, whose wisdom shines in you, +Would be perplexed how to choose anew. 20 +So more than private was the joy and grief, +That at the worst it gave our souls relief, +That in our age such sense of virtue lived, +They joy'd so justly, and so justly grieved. +Nature (her fairest light eclipsed) seems +Herself to suffer in those sharp extremes; +While not from thine alone thy blood retires, +But from those cheeks which all the world admires. +The stem thus threaten'd, and the sap in thee, +Droop all the branches of that noble tree! 30 +Their beauty they, and we our love suspend; +Nought can our wishes, save thy health, intend. +As lilies overcharged with rain, they bend +Their beauteous heads, and with high heaven contend; +Fold thee within their snowy arms, and cry-- +'He is too faultless, and too young, to die!' +So like immortals round about thee they +Sit, that they fright approaching death away. +Who would not languish, by so fair a train +To be lamented, and restored again? 40 + +Or, thus withheld, what hasty soul would go, +Though to the blest? O'er young Adonis so +Fair Venus mourn'd, and with the precious shower +Of her warm tears cherish'd the springing flower. + +The next support, fair hope of your great name, +And second pillar of that noble frame, +By loss of thee would no advantage have, +But step by step pursue thee to the grave. + +And now relentless Fate, about to end +The line which backward does so far extend 50 +That antique stock, which still the world supplies +With bravest spirits, and with brightest eyes, +Kind Phoebus, interposing, bid me say, +Such storms no more shall shake that house; but they, +Like Neptune, and his sea-born niece,[1] shall be +The shining glories of the land and sea; +With courage guard, and beauty warm, our age, +And lovers fill with like poetic rage. + +[1] 'Nation spread': the Earl of Northumberland, appointed Lord High + Admiral in the year 1638. + + + + +TO THE QUEEN, OCCASIONED UPON SIGHT OF HER MAJESTY'S PICTURE.[2] + + +Well fare the hand, which to our humble sight +Presents that beauty, which the dazzling light +Of royal splendour hides from weaker eyes, +And all access, save by this art, denies. +Here only we have courage to behold +This beam of glory; here we dare unfold +In numbers thus the wonders we conceive; 7 +The gracious image, seeming to give leave, +Propitious stands, vouchsafing to be seen; +And by our Muse saluted Mighty Queen, +In whom th'extremes of power and beauty move, +The Queen of Britain and the Queen of Love! + +As the bright sun (to which we owe no sight +Of equal glory to your beauty's light) +Is wisely placed in so sublime a seat, +T' extend his light, and moderate his heat; +So, happy 'tis you move in such a sphere, +As your high Majesty with awful fear +In human breasts might qualify that fire, +Which, kindled by those eyes, had flamed higher 20 +Than when the scorched world like hazard run, +By the approach of the ill-guided sun. + +No other nymphs have title to men's hearts, +But as their meanness larger hope imparts; +Your beauty more the fondest lover moves +With admiration than his private loves; +With admiration! for a pitch so high +(Save sacred Charles his) never love durst fly. +Heaven, that preferr'd a sceptre to your hand, +Favour'd our freedom more than your command; 30 +Beauty had crown'd you, and you must have been +The whole world's mistress, other than a Queen. +All had been rivals, and you might have spared, +Or kill'd, and tyrannised, without a guard; +No power achieved, either by arms or birth, +Equals love's empire both in heaven and earth. +Such eyes as yours on Jove himself have thrown +As bright and fierce a lightning as his own; +Witness our Jove, prevented by their flame +In his swift passage to th'Hesperian dame; 40 + +When, like a lion, finding, in his way +To some intended spoil, a fairer prey, +The royal youth pursuing the report +Of beauty, found it in the Gallic court; +There public care with private passion fought +A doubtful combat in his noble thought: +Should he confess his greatness, and his love, +And the free faith of your great brother[3] prove; +With his Achates breaking through the cloud +Of that disguise which did their graces shroud;[4] 50 +And mixing with those gallants at the ball, +Dance with the ladies, and outshine them all; +Or on his journey o'er the mountains ride?-- +So when the fair Leucothoe he espied, +To check his steeds impatient Phoebus yearn'd, +Though all the world was in his course concern'd. +What may hereafter her meridian do, +Whose dawning beauty warm'd his bosom so? +Not so divine a flame, since deathless gods +Forbore to visit the defiled abodes 60 +Of men, in any mortal breast did burn; +Nor shall, till piety and they return. + +[1] 'Sea-born niece': Venus. +[2] 'Majesty's picture': Henrietta, daughter of Henry IV., married by + proxy to Charles I. in Paris, 1st May 1625. Marriages made in May + are said to be unlucky--_this_ certainly was. +[3] 'Great brother': Louis XIII., King of France. +[4] 'Graces shroud': 'Achates,' the Duke of Buckingham. + + + + +TO AMORET. + + +1 Amoret! the Milky Way + Framed of many nameless stars! + The smooth stream where none can say + He this drop to that prefers! + +2 Amoret! my lovely foe! + Tell me where thy strength does lie? + Where the pow'r that charms us so? + In thy soul, or in thy eye? + +3 By that snowy neck alone, + Or thy grace in motion seen, + No such wonders could he done; + Yet thy waist is straight and clean + As Cupid's shaft, or Hermes' rod, + And pow'rful, too, as either god. + + + + +TO PHYLLIS. + + +Phyllis! why should we delay +Pleasures shorter than the day? +Could we (which we never can!) +Stretch our lives beyond their span, +Beauty like a shadow flies, +And our youth before us dies. +Or would youth and beauty stay, +Love hath wings, and will away. +Love hath swifter wings than Time, +Change in love to heaven does climb. 10 +Gods, that never change their state, +Vary oft their love and hate. + +Phyllis! to this truth we owe +All the love betwixt us two. +Let not you and I inquire +What has been our past desire; +On what shepherds you have smiled, +Or what nymphs I have beguiled; +Leave it to the planets too, 19 +What we shall hereafter do; +For the joys we now may prove, +Take advice of present love. + + + + +TO SIR WILLIAM DAVENANT, UPON HIS TWO FIRST BOOKS OF GONDIBERT.[1] +WRITTEN IN FRANCE. + + +Thus the wise nightingale that leaves her home, +Her native wood, when storms and winter come, +Pursuing constantly the cheerful spring, +To foreign groves does her old music bring. + +The drooping Hebrews' banish'd harps, unstrung, +At Babylon upon the willows hung; +Yours sounds aloud, and tells us you excel +No less in courage, than in singing well; +While, unconcern'd, you let your country know +They have impoverish'd themselves, not you; 10 +Who, with the Muses' help, can mock those fates +Which threaten kingdoms, and disorder states. +So Ovid, when from Caesar's rage he fled, +The Roman Muse to Pontus with him led; +Where he so sung, that we, through pity's glass, +See Nero milder than Augustus was. +Hereafter such, in thy behalf, shall be +Th' indulgent censure of posterity. +To banish those who with such art can sing, +Is a rude crime, which its own curse doth bring; 20 +Ages to come shall ne'er know how they fought, +Nor how to love, their present youth be taught. + +This to thyself.--Now to thy matchless book, +Wherein those few that can with judgment look, +May find old love in pure fresh language told, +Like new-stamp'd coin made out of angel-gold. +Such truth in love as th'antique world did know, +In such a style as courts may boast of now; +Which no bold tales of gods or monsters swell, +But human passions, such as with us dwell. 30 +Man is thy theme; his virtue or his rage +Drawn to the life in each elaborate page. +Mars nor Bellona are not named here, +But such a Gondibert as both might fear; +Venus had here, and Hebe, been outshined +By the bright Birtha and thy Rhodalind. +Such is thy happy skill, and such the odds +Betwixt thy worthies and the Grecian gods! +Whose deities in vain had here come down, +Where mortal beauty wears the Sovereign crown; 40 +Such as of flesh compos'd, by flesh and blood, +Though not resisted, may be understood. + +[1] 'Sir William Davenant': Davenant fled to France in fear of the + displeasure of the Parliament, and there wrote the two first cantos + of _Gondibert_. + + + + +TO MY WORTHY FRIEND, MR WASE, THE TRANSLATOR OF GRATIUS.[1] + + +1 Thus, by the music, we may know + When noble wits a-hunting go, + Through groves that on Parnassus grow. + +2 The Muses all the chase adorn; + My friend on Pegasus is borne; + And young Apollo winds the horn. + +3 Having old Gratius in the wind, + No pack of critics e'er could find, + Or he know more of his own mind. + +4 Here huntsmen with delight may read + How to choose dogs for scent or speed, + And how to change or mend the breed; + +5 What arms to use, or nets to frame, + Wild beasts to combat or to tame; + With all the myst'ries of that game. + +6 But, worthy friend! the face of war + In ancient times doth differ far + From what our fiery battles are. + +7 Nor is it like, since powder known, + That man, so cruel to his own, + Should spare the race of beasts alone. + +8 No quarter now, but with the gun + Men wait in trees from sun to sun, + And all is in a moment done. + +9 And therefore we expect your next + Should be no comment, but a text + To tell how modern beasts are vex'd. + +10 Thus would I further yet engage + Your gentle Muse to court the age + With somewhat of your proper rage; + +11 Since none does more to Phoebus owe, + Or in more languages can show + Those arts which you so early know. + +[1] 'Mr. Wase': Wase was a fellow of Cambridge, tutor to Lord Herbert, + and translator of Grathis on 'Hunting,' a very learned man. + + + + +TO A FRIEND, ON THE DIFFERENT SUCCESS OF THEIR LOVES.[1] + + +Thrice happy pair! of whom we cannot know +Which first began to love, or loves most now; +Fair course of passion! where two lovers start, +And run together, heart still yoked with heart; +Successful youth! whom love has taught the way +To be victorious in the first essay. +Sure love's an art best practised at first, +And where th'experienced still prosper worst! +I, with a different fate, pursued in vain +The haughty Caelia, till my just disdain 10 +Of her neglect, above that passion borne, +Did pride to pride oppose, and scorn to scorn. +Now she relents; but all too late to move +A heart directed to a nobler love. +The scales are turn'd, her kindness weighs no more +Now, than my vows and service did before. +So in some well-wrought hangings you may see +How Hector leads, and how the Grecians flee; +Here, the fierce Mars his courage so inspires, +That with bold hands the Argive fleet he fires; 20 +But there, from heaven the blue-eyed virgin[2] falls, +And frighted Troy retires within her walls; +They that are foremost in that bloody race, +Turn head anon, and give the conqu'rors chase. +So like the chances are of love and war, +That they alone in this distinguish'd are, +In love the victors from the vanquish'd fly; +They fly that wound, and they pursue that die. + +[1] 'Their loves': supposed to be Alexander Hampden, involved with + Waller in the plot. See 'Life' +[2] 'Blue-eyed virgin': Minerva. + + + + +TO ZELINDA.[1] + + +Fairest piece of well-form'd earth! +Urge not thus your haughty birth; +The power which you have o'er us lies +Not in your race, but in your eyes. +'None but a prince!'--Alas! that voice +Confines you to a narrow choice. +Should you no honey vow to taste, +But what the master-bees have placed +In compass of their cells, how small +A portion to your share would fall! 10 +Nor all appear, among those few, +Worthy the stock from whence they grew. +The sap which at the root is bred +In trees, through all the boughs is spread; +But virtues which in parents shine, +Make not like progress through the line. +'Tis not from whom, but where, we live; +The place does oft those graces give. +Great Julius, on the mountains bred, +A flock perhaps, or herd, had led. 20 +He that the world subdued,[2] had been +But the best wrestler on the green. +'Tis art and knowledge which draw forth +The hidden seeds of native worth; +They blow those sparks, and make them rise +Into such flames as touch the skies. +To the old heroes hence was given +A pedigree which reached to heaven; +Of mortal seed they were not held, 29 +Which other mortals so excell'd. +And beauty, too, in such excess +As yours, Zelinda! claims no less. +Smile but on me, and you shall scorn, +Henceforth, to be of princes born. +I can describe, the shady grove +Where your loved mother slept with Jove; +And yet excuse the faultless dame, +Caught with her spouse's shape and name. +Thy matchless form will credit bring +To all the wonders I shall sing. 40 + +[1] 'Zelinda': referring to a novel where the lady, a princess, refuses + a lover, saying, 'I will have none but a prince!' +[2] 'World subdued': Alexander. + + + + +TO MY LADY MORTON, ON NEW-YEAR'S DAY,[1] +AT THE LOUVRE IN PARIS. + + +Madam! new years may well expect to find +Welcome from you, to whom they are so kind; +Still as they pass, they court and smile on you, +And make your beauty, as themselves, seem new. +To the fair Villiers we Dalkeith prefer, +And fairest Morton now as much to her; +So like the sun's advance your titles show, +Which as he rises does the warmer grow. + +But thus to style you fair, your sex's praise, +Gives you but myrtle, who may challenge bays; 10 +From armed foes to bring a royal prize, +Shows your brave heart victorious as your eyes. +If Judith, marching with the gen'ral's head, +Can give us passion when her story's read, +What may the living do, which brought away, +Though a less bloody, yet a nobler prey; +Who from our flaming Troy, with a bold hand, +Snatch'd her fair charge, the Princess, like a brand? +A brand! preserved to warm some prince's heart, +And make whole kingdoms take her brother's part. 20 +So Venus, from prevailing Greeks, did shroud +The hope of Rome, and saved him in a cloud. + +This gallant act may cancel all our rage, +Begin a better, and absolve this age. +Dark shades become the portrait of our time; +Here weeps Misfortune, and there triumphs Crime! +Let him that draws it hide the rest in night; +This portion only may endure the light, +Where the kind nymph, changing her faultless shape, +Becomes unhandsome, handsomely to 'scape, 30 +When through the guards, the river, and the sea, +Faith, beauty, wit, and courage, made their way. +As the brave eagle does with sorrow see +The forest wasted, and that lofty tree +Which holds her nest about to be o'erthrown, +Before the feathers of her young are grown, +She will not leave them, nor she cannot stay, +But bears them boldly on her wings away; +So fled the dame, and o'er the ocean bore +Her princely burthen to the Gallic shore. 40 +Born in the storms of war, this royal fair, +Produced like lightning in tempestuous air, +Though now she flies her native isle (less kind, +Less safe for her than either sea or wind!) +Shall, when the blossom of her beauty's blown, +See her great brother on the British throne; +Where peace shall smile, and no dispute arise, +But which rules most, his sceptre, or her eyes. + +[1] 'New-year's day': Lady Morton, daughter of Sir Edward Villiers, + niece of the Duke of Buckingham, and wife of Lord Douglas, of + Dalkeith, one of the most celebrated beauties of her day. She + accompanied the Princess Henrietta in disguise to Paris. Waller, + then in France, wrote these lines in 1650. + + + + +TO A FAIR LADY, PLAYING WITH A SNAKE. + + +1 Strange! that such horror and such grace + Should dwell together in one place; + A fury's arm, an angel's face! + +2 'Tis innocence, and youth, which makes + In Chloris' fancy such mistakes, + To start at love, and play with snakes. + +3 By this and by her coldness barr'd, + Her servants have a task too hard; + The tyrant has a double guard! + +4 Thrice happy snake! that in her sleeve + May boldly creep; we dare not give + Our thoughts so unconfined a leave. + +5 Contented in that nest of snow + He lies, as he his bliss did know, + And to the wood no more would go. + +6 Take heed, fair Eve! you do not make + Another tempter of this snake; + A marble one so warm'd would speak. + + + + +TO HIS WORTHY FRIEND MASTER EVELYN,[1] UPON HIS TRANSLATION OF +'LUCRETIUS.' + + +Lucretius, (with a stork-like fate, +Born, and translated, in a state) +Comes to proclaim, in English verse, +No Monarch rules the universe; +But chance, and atoms, make this All +In order democratical, +Where bodies freely run their course, +Without design, or fate, or force. +And this in such a strain he sings, +As if his Muse, with angels' wings, 10 +Had soar'd beyond our utmost sphere, +And other worlds discover'd there; +For his immortal, boundless wit, +To Nature does no bounds permit, +But boldly has removed those bars +Of heaven, and earth, and seas, and stars, +By which they were before supposed, +By narrow wits, to be enclosed, +Till his free Muse threw down the pale, +And did at once dispark them all. 20 + +So vast this argument did seem, +That the wise author did esteem +The Roman language (which was spread +O'er the whole world, in triumph led) +A tongue too narrow to unfold +The wonders which he would have told. +This speaks thy glory, noble friend! +And British language does commend; +For here Lucretius whole we find, +His words, his music, and his mind. 30 +Thy art has to our country brought +All that he writ, and all he thought. +Ovid translated, Virgil too, +Show'd long since what our tongue could do; +Nor Lucan we, nor Horace spared; +Only Lucretius was too hard. +Lucretius, like a fort, did stand 37 +Untouch'd, till your victorious hand +Did from his head this garland bear, +Which now upon your own you wear: +A garland made of such new bays, +And sought in such untrodden ways, +As no man's temples e'er did crown, +Save this great author's, and your own! + +[1] 'Master Evelyn': the well-known author of 'Sylva,' translated the + first book of Lucretius, 'De Rerum Natura.' + + + + +TO HIS WORTHY FRIEND SIR THOMAS HIGGONS,[1] +UPON HIS TRANSLATION OF 'THE VENETIAN TRIUMPH.' + + +The winged lion's not so fierce in fight +As Liberi's hand presents him to our sight; +Nor would his pencil make him half so fierce, +Or roar so loud, as Businello's verse; +But your translation does all three excel, +The fight, the piece, and lofty Businel. +As their small galleys may not hold compare +With our tall ships, whose sails employ more air; +So does th'Italian to your genius vail, +Moved with a fuller and a nobler gale. 10 +Thus, while your Muse spreads the Venetian story, +You make all Europe emulate her glory; +You make them blush weak Venice should defend +The cause of Heaven, while they for words contend; +Shed Christian blood, and pop'lous cities raze, +Because they're taught to use some different phrase. +If, list'ning to your charms, we could our jars +Compose, and on the Turk discharge these wars, +Our British arms the sacred tomb might wrest 19 +From Pagan hands, and triumph o'er the East; +And then you might our own high deeds recite, +And with great Tasso celebrate the fight. + +[1] 'Sir T. Higgons': a knight of some note, who translated the + 'Venetian Triumph,' an Italian poem by Businello, addressed to + Liberi, the painter. + + + + +TO A LADY +SINGING A SONG OF HIS COMPOSING. + + +1 Chloris! yourself you so excel, + When you vouchsafe to breathe my thought, + That, like a spirit, with this spell + Of my own teaching, I am caught. + +2 That eagle's fate[1] and mine are one, + Which, on the shaft that made him die, + Espied a feather of his own, + Wherewith he wont to soar so high. + +3 Had Echo, with so sweet a grace, + Narcissus' loud complaints return'd, + Not for reflection of his face, + But of his voice, the boy had burn'd. + +[1] 'Eagle's fate': Byron copies this thought in his verses on Kirke + White + + + + +TO THE MUTABLE FAIR. + + +Here, Caelia! for thy sake I part +With all that grew so near my heart; +The passion that I had for thee, +The faith, the love, the constancy! +And, that I may successful prove, +Transform myself to what you love. + +Fool that I was! so much to prize +Those simple virtues you despise; +Fool! that with such dull arrows strove, +Or hoped to reach a flying dove; 10 +For you, that are in motion still, +Decline our force, and mock our skill; +Who, like Don Quixote, do advance +Against a windmill our vain lance. + +Now will I wander through the air, +Mount, make a stoop at every fair; +And, with a fancy unconfined +(As lawless as the sea or wind), +Pursue you wheresoe'er you fly, +And with your various thoughts comply. 20 + +The formal stars do travel so, +As we their names and courses know; +And he that on their changes looks, +Would think them govern'd by our books; +But never were the clouds reduced +To any art; the motions used +By those free vapours are so light, +So frequent, that the conquer'd sight +Despairs to find the rules that guide +Those gilded shadows as they slide; 30 +And therefore of the spacious air, +Jove's royal consort had the care; +And by that power did once escape, +Declining bold Ixion's rape; +She with her own resemblance graced +A shining cloud, which he embraced. + +Such was that image, so it smiled +With seeming kindness which beguiled +Your Thyrsis lately, when he thought +He had his fleeting Caelia caught. 40 +'Twas shaped like her, but, for the fair, +He fill'd his arms with yielding air. + +A fate for which he grieves the less, +Because the gods had like success; +For in their story one, we see, +Pursues a nymph, and takes a tree; +A second, with a lover's haste, +Soon overtakes whom he had chased, +But she that did a virgin seem, +Possess'd, appears a wand'ring stream; 50 +For his supposed love, a third +Lays greedy hold upon a bird, +And stands amazed to find his dear +A wild inhabitant of the air. + +To these old tales such nymphs as you +Give credit, and still make them new; +The am'rous now like wonders find +In the swift changes of your mind. + +But, Caelia, if you apprehend +The Muse of your incensed friend, 60 +Nor would that he record your blame, +And make it live, repeat the same; +Again deceive him, and again, +And then he swears he'll not complain; +For still to be deluded so, +Is all the pleasure lovers know; +Who, like good falc'ners, take delight, +Not in the quarry, but the flight. + + + + +TO A LADY, +FROM WHOM HE RECEIVED A SILVER PEN. + + +1 Madam! intending to have tried + The silver favour which you gave, + In ink the shining point I dyed, + And drench'd it in the sable wave; + When, grieved to be so foully stain'd, + On you it thus to me complain'd. + +2 'Suppose you had deserved to take + From her fair hand so fair a boon, + Yet how deserved I to make + So ill a change, who ever won + Immortal praise for what I wrote, + Instructed by her noble thought? + +3 'I, that expressed her commands + To mighty lords, and princely dames, + Always most welcome to their hands, + Proud that I would record their names, + Must now be taught an humble style, + Some meaner beauty to beguile!' + +4 So I, the wronged pen to please, + Make it my humble thanks express + Unto your ladyship, in these: + And now 'tis forced to confess + That your great self did ne'er indite, + Nor that, to one more noble, write. + + + + +TO CHLORIS. + + +Chloris! since first our calm of peace + Was frighted hence, this good we find, +Your favours with your fears increase, + And growing mischiefs make you kind. + +So the fair tree, which still preserves + Her fruit and state while no wind blows, +In storms from that uprightness swerves, + And the glad earth about her strows + With treasure, from her yielding boughs. + + + + +TO A LADY IN RETIREMENT. + + +1 Sees not my love how time resumes + The glory which he lent these flowers? + Though none should taste of their perfumes, + Yet must they live but some few hours: + Time what we forbear devours! + +2 Had Helen, or the Egyptian Queen,[1] + Been ne'er so thrifty of their graces, + Those beauties must at length have been + The spoil of age, which finds out faces + In the most retired places. + +3 Should some malignant planet bring + A barren drought, or ceaseless shower, + Upon the autumn or the spring, + And spare us neither fruit nor flower; + Winter would not stay an hour. + +4 Could the resolve of love's neglect + Preserve you from the violation + Of coming years, then more respect + Were due to so divine a fashion, + Nor would I indulge my passion. + +[1] 'Egyptian Queen': Cleopatra. + + + + +TO MR GEORGE SANDYS,[1] +ON HIS TRANSLATION OF SOME PARTS OF THE BIBLE. + + +1 How bold a work attempts that pen, + Which would enrich our vulgar tongue + With the high raptures of those men + Who, here, with the same spirit sung + Wherewith they now assist the choir + Of angels, who their songs admire! + +2 Whatever those inspired souls + Were urged to express, did shake + The aged deep and both the poles; + Their num'rous thunder could awake + Dull earth, which does with Heaven consent + To all they wrote, and all they meant. + +3 Say, sacred bard! what could bestow + Courage on thee to soar so high? + Tell me, brave friend! what help'd thee so + To shake off all mortality? + To light this torch, thou hast climb'd higher + Than he who stole celestial fire.[2] + + +[1] 'Sandys,' besides his 'Ovid,' which Pope read and relished in his + boyhood, versified some of the poetical parts of the Bible. +[2] 'Celestial fire': Prometheus. + + + + +TO THE KING, +UPON HIS MAJESTY'S HAPPY RETURN. + + +The rising sun complies with our weak sight, +First gilds the clouds, then shows his globe of light +At such a distance from our eyes, as though +He knew what harm his hasty beams would do. + +But your full majesty at once breaks forth +In the meridian of your reign. Your worth, +Your youth, and all the splendour of your state, +(Wrapp'd up, till now, in clouds of adverse fate!) +With such a flood of light invade our eyes, +And our spread hearts with so great joy surprise, 10 +That if your grace incline that we should live, +You must not, sir! too hastily forgive. +Our guilt preserves us from th'excess of joy, +Which scatters spirits, and would life destroy. +All are obnoxious! and this faulty land, +Like fainting Esther, does before you stand, +Watching your sceptre. The revolted sea +Trembles to think she did your foes obey. + +Great Britain, like blind Polypheme, of late, +In a wild rage, became the scorn and hate 20 +Of her proud neighbours, who began to think +She, with the weight of her own force, would sink. +But you are come, and all their hopes are vain; +This giant isle has got her eye again. +Now she might spare the ocean, and oppose +Your conduct to the fiercest of her foes. +Naked, the Graces guarded you from all +Dangers abroad; and now your thunder shall. +Princes that saw you, diff'rent passions prove, +For now they dread the object of their love; 30 +Nor without envy can behold his height, +Whose conversation was their late delight. +So Semele, contented with the rape +Of Jove disguised in a mortal shape, +When she beheld his hands with lightning fill'd, +And his bright rays, was with amazement kill'd. + +And though it be our sorrow, and our crime, +To have accepted life so long a time +Without you here, yet does this absence gain +No small advantage to your present reign; 40 +For, having view'd the persons and the things, +The councils, state, and strength of Europe's kings, +You know your work; ambition to restrain, +And set them bounds, as Heaven does to the main. +We have you now with ruling wisdom fraught, +Not such as books, but such as practice, taught. +So the lost sun, while least by us enjoy'd, +Is the whole night for our concern employ'd; +He ripens spices, fruits, and precious gums, +Which from remotest regions hither comes. 50 + +This seat of yours (from th'other world removed) +Had Archimedes known, he might have proved +His engine's force, fix'd here; your power and skill +Make the world's motion wait upon your will. + +Much suffring monarch! the first English born +That has the crown of these three nations worn! +How has your patience, with the barb'rous rage +Of your own soil, contended half an age? +Till (your tried virtue, and your sacred word, +At last preventing your unwilling sword) 60 +Armies and fleets which kept you out so long, +Own'd their great sov'reign, and redress'd his wrong; +When straight the people, by no force compell'd, +Nor longer from their inclination held, +Break forth at once, like powder set on fire, +And, with a noble rage, their king require. +So th'injured sea, which from her wonted course, +To gain some acres, avarice did force, +If the new banks, neglected once, decay, +No longer will from her old channel stay; 70 +Raging, the late got land she overflows, +And all that's built upon't to ruin goes. + +Offenders now, the chiefest, do begin +To strive for grace, and expiate their sin. +All winds blow fair, that did the world embroil; +Your vipers treacle yield, and scorpions oil. + +If then such praise the Macedonian[1] got, +For having rudely cut the Gordian knot, +What glory's due to him that could divide +Such ravell'd interests; has the knot untied, 80 +And without stroke so smooth a passage made, +Where craft and malice such impeachments laid? + +But while we praise you, you ascribe it all +To His high hand, which threw the untouch'd wall +Of self-demolish'd Jericho so low; +His angel 'twas that did before you go, +Tamed savage hearts, and made affections yield, +Like ears of corn when wind salutes the field. + +Thus, patience-crown'd, like Job's, your trouble ends, +Having your foes to pardon, and your friends; 90 +For, though your courage were so firm a rock, +What private virtue could endure the shock? +Like your Great Master, you the storm withstood, +And pitied those who love with frailty show'd. + +Rude Indians, tort'ring all the royal race, +Him with the throne and dear-bought sceptre grace +That suffers best. What region could be found, 97 +Where your heroic head had not been crown'd? + +The next experience of your mighty mind +Is, how you combat Fortune, now she's kind. +And this way, too, you are victorious found; +She flatters with the same success she frown'd. +While to yourself severe, to others kind, +With pow'r unbounded, and a will confined, +Of this vast empire you possess the care, +The softer parts fall to the people's share. +Safety, and equal government, are things +Which subjects make as happy as their kings. + +Faith, Law, and Piety, (that banished train!) +Justice and Truth, with you return again. 110 +The city's trade, and country's easy life, +Once more shall flourish without fraud or strife. +Your reign no less assures the ploughman's peace, +Than the warm sun advances his increase; +And does the shepherds as securely keep +From all their fears, as they preserve their sheep. + +But, above all, the Muse-inspired train +Triumph, and raise their drooping heads again! +Kind Heaven at once has, in your person, sent +Their sacred judge, their guard, and argument. 120 + + +Nec magis expressi vultus per ahenea signa, + Quam per vatis opus mores, animique, virorum + Clarorum apparent.... HOR. + +[1] 'Macedonian': Alexander. + + + + +TO A LADY, +FROM WHOM HE RECEIVED THE COPY OF THE POEM ENTITLED 'OF A TREE CUT IN +PAPER,' WHICH FOR MANY YEARS HAD BEEN LOST. + + +Nothing lies hid from radiant eyes; +All they subdue become their spies. +Secrets, as choicest jewels, are +Presented to oblige the fair; +No wonder, then, that a lost thought +Should there be found, where souls are caught. + +The picture of fair Venus (that +For which men say the goddess sat) +Was lost, till Lely from your book +Again that glorious image took. + +If Virtue's self were lost, we might +From your fair mind new copies write. +All things but one you can restore; +The heart you get returns no more. + + + + +TO THE QUEEN, UPON HER MAJESTY'S BIRTHDAY, +AFTER HER HAPPY RECOVERY FROM A DANGEROUS SICKNESS.[1] + + +Farewell the year! which threaten'd so +The fairest light the world can show. +Welcome the new! whose every day, +Restoring what was snatch'd away +By pining sickness from the fair, +That matchless beauty does repair +So fast, that the approaching spring +(Which does to flow'ry meadows bring +What the rude winter from them tore) +Shall give her all she had before. 10 + +But we recover not so fast +The sense of such a danger past; +We that esteem'd you sent from heaven, +A pattern to this island given, +To show us what the bless'd do there, +And what alive they practised here, +When that which we immortal thought, +We saw so near destruction brought, +Felt all which you did then endure, +And tremble yet, as not secure. 20 +So though the sun victorious be, +And from a dark eclipse set free, +The influence, which we fondly fear, +Afflicts our thoughts the following year. + +But that which may relieve our care +Is, that you have a help so near +For all the evil you can prove, +The kindness of your royal love; +He that was never known to mourn, +So many kingdoms from him torn, 30 +His tears reserved for you, more dear, +More prized, than all those kingdoms were! +For when no healing art prevail'd, +When cordials and elixirs fail'd, +On your pale cheek he dropp'd the shower, +Revived you like a dying flower. + +[1] 'Dangerous sickness': the Queen of Charles II. These verses belong + to the year 1663. + + + + +TO MR KILLIGREW,[1] +UPON HIS ALTERING HIS PLAY, 'PANDORA,' FROM A TRAGEDY INTO A COMEDY, +BECAUSE NOT APPROVED ON THE STAGE. + + +Sir, you should rather teach our age the way +Of judging well, than thus have changed your play; +You had obliged us by employing wit, +Not to reform Pandora, but the pit; +For as the nightingale, without the throng +Of other birds, alone attends her song, +While the loud daw, his throat displaying, draws +The whole assemblage of his fellow-daws; +So must the writer, whose productions should +Take with the vulgar, be of vulgar mould; +Whilst nobler fancies make a flight too high +For common view, and lessen as they fly. + +[1] 'Mr. Killigrew': a gentleman usher to Charles II., and one of the + playwrights of the period. + + + + +TO A PERSON OF HONOUR, +UPON HIS INCOMPARABLE, INCOMPREHENSIBLE POEM, ENTITLED, 'THE BRITISH +PRINCES.'[1] + + +Sir! you've obliged the British nation more +Than all their bards could ever do before, +And, at your own charge, monuments as hard +As brass or marble to your fame have rear'd; +For, as all warlike nations take delight +To hear how their brave ancestors could fight, +You have advanced to wonder their renown, 7 +And no less virtuously improved your own; +That 'twill be doubtful whether you do write, +Or they have acted, at a nobler height. +You of your ancient princes, have retrieved +More than the ages knew in which they lived; +Explain'd their customs and their rights anew, +Better than all their Druids ever knew; +Unriddled those dark oracles as well +As those that made them could themselves foretell. +For as the Britons long have hoped, in vain, +Arthur would come to govern them again, +You have fulfill'd that prophecy alone, +And in your poem placed him on his throne. 20 +Such magic power has your prodigious pen +To raise the dead, and give new life to men, +Make rival princes meet in arms and love, +Whom distant ages did so far remove; +For as eternity has neither past +Nor future, authors say, nor first nor last, +But is all instant, your eternal Muse +All ages can to any one reduce. +Then why should you, whose miracles of art +Can life at pleasure to the dead impart, 30 +Trouble in vain your better-busied head, +T'observe what times they lived in, or were dead? +For since you have such arbitrary power, +It were defect in judgment to go lower, +Or stoop to things so pitifully lewd, +As use to take the vulgar latitude; +For no man's fit to read what you have writ, +That holds not some proportion with your wit; +As light can no way but by light appear, +He must bring sense that understands it here. 40 + +[1] 'The British Princes': an heroic poem, by the Hon. Edward Howard, + was universally laughed at. See our edition of 'Butler.' + + + + +TO A FRIEND OF THE AUTHOR, +A PERSON OF HONOUR, WHO LATELY WRIT A RELIGIOUS BOOK, ENTITLED, +'HISTORICAL APPLICATIONS, AND OCCASIONAL MEDITATIONS, UPON SEVERAL +SUBJECTS.'[1] + + +Bold is the man that dares engage +For piety in such an age! +Who can presume to find a guard +From scorn, when Heaven's so little spared? +Divines are pardon'd; they defend +Altars on which their lives depend; +But the profane impatient are, +When nobler pens make this their care; +For why should these let in a beam +Of divine light to trouble them, 10 +And call in doubt their pleasing thought, +That none believes what we are taught? +High birth and fortune warrant give +That such men write what they believe; +And, feeling first what they indite, +New credit give to ancient light. +Amongst these few, our author brings +His well-known pedigree from kings.[2] +This book, the image of his mind, +Will make his name not hard to find; 20 +I wish the throng of great and good +Made it less eas'ly understood! + + +[1] 'Several subjects': supposed to be Lord Berkeley. It contained + testimonies of celebrated men to the value of religion. +[2] 'Pedigree from kings': the Earl of Berkeley was descended from the + royal house of Denmark. + + + + +TO THE DUCHESS OF ORLEANS, +WHEN SHE WAS TAKING LEAVE OF THE COURT AT DOVER.[1] + + +That sun of beauty did among us rise; +England first saw the light of your fair eyes; +In English, too, your early wit was shown; +Favour that language, which was then your own, +When, though a child, through guards you made your way; +What fleet or army could an angel stay? +Thrice happy Britain! if she could retain +Whom she first bred within her ambient main. +Our late burnt London, in apparel new, +Shook off her ashes to have treated you; 10 +But we must see our glory snatch'd away, +And with warm tears increase the guilty sea; +No wind can favour us; howe'er it blows, +We must be wreck'd, and our dear treasure lose! +Sighs will not let us half our sorrows tell,-- +Fair, lovely, great, and best of nymphs, farewell! + +[1] 'Court at Dover': the Duchess of Orleans, the youngest daughter of + Charles I., came to England on the 14th May 1670, on a political + mission. + + + + +TO CHLORIS. + + +Chloris! what's eminent, we know +Must for some cause be valued so; +Things without use, though they be good, +Are not by us so understood. +The early rose, made to display +Her blushes to the youthful May, +Doth yield her sweets, since he is fair, +And courts her with a gentle air. +Our stars do show their excellence +Not by their light, but influence; +When brighter comets, since still known +Fatal to all, are liked by none. +So your admired beauty still +Is, by effects, made good or ill. + + + + +TO THE KING. + + +Great Sir! disdain not in this piece to stand, +Supreme commander both of sea and land. +Those which inhabit the celestial bower, +Painters express with emblems of their power; +His club Alcides, Phoebus has his bow, +Jove has his thunder, and your navy you. + +But your great providence no colours here +Can represent, nor pencil draw that care, +Which keeps you waking to secure our peace, +The nation's glory, and our trade's increase; 10 +You, for these ends, whole days in council sit, +And the diversions of your youth forget. + +Small were the worth of valour and of force, +If your high wisdom governed not their course; +You as the soul, as the first mover you, +Vigour and life on every part bestow; +How to build ships, and dreadful ordnance cast, +Instruct the artists, and reward their haste. + +So Jove himself, when Typhon heaven does brave, +Descends to visit Vulcan's smoky cave, 20 +Teaching the brawny Cyclops how to frame +His thunder, mix'd with terror, wrath, and flame. +Had the old Greeks discover'd your abode, +Crete had not been the cradle of their god; +On that small island they had looked with scorn, +And in Great Britain thought the Thunderer born. + + + + +TO THE DUCHESS, +WHEN HE PRESENTED THIS BOOK TO HER ROYAL HIGHNESS. + + +Madam! I here present you with the rage, +And with the beauties of a former age; +Wishing you may with as great pleasure view +This, as we take in gazing upon you. +Thus we writ then: your brighter eyes inspire +A nobler flame, and raise our genius higher. +While we your wit and early knowledge fear, +To our productions we become severe; +Your matchless beauty gives our fancy wing, +Your judgment makes us careful how we sing. 10 +Lines not composed, as heretofore, in haste, +Polish'd like marble, shall like marble last, +And make you through as many ages shine, +As Tasso has the heroes of your line. + +Though other names our wary writers use, +You are the subject of the British Muse; +Dilating mischief to yourself unknown, +Men write, and die of wounds they dare not own. +So the bright sun burns all our grass away, +While it means nothing but to give us day. 20 + + + + +TO MR CREECH, +ON HIS TRANSLATION OF 'LUCRETIUS.'[1] + + +What all men wish'd, though few could hope to see, +We are now bless'd with, and obliged by thee. +Thou, from the ancient, learned Latin store, +Giv'st us one author, and we hope for more. +May they enjoy thy thoughts!--Let not the stage +The idlest moment of thy hours engage; +Each year that place some wondrous monster breeds, +And the wits' garden is o'errun with weeds. +There, Farce is Comedy; bombast called strong; +Soft words, with nothing in them, make a song. 10 +'Tis hard to say they steal them now-a-days; +For sure the ancients never wrote such plays. +These scribbling insects have what they deserve, +Not plenty, nor the glory for to starve. +That Spenser knew, that Tasso felt before; +And death found surly Ben exceeding poor. +Heaven turn the omen from their image here! +May he with joy the well-placed laurel wear! +Great Virgil's happier fortune may he find, +And be our Caesar, like Augustus, kind! 20 + +But let not this disturb thy tuneful head; +Thou writ'st for thy delight, and not for bread; +Thou art not cursed to write thy verse with care; +But art above what other poets fear. +What may we not expect from such a hand, +That has, with books, himself at free command? +Thou know'st in youth, what age has sought in vain; +And bring'st forth sons without a mother's pain. +So easy is thy sense, thy verse so sweet, +Thy words so proper, and thy phrase so fit, 30 +We read, and read again; and still admire +Whence came this youth, and whence this wondrous fire! + +Pardon this rapture, sir! but who can be +Cold, and unmoved, yet have his thoughts on thee? +Thy goodness may my several faults forgive, +And by your help these wretched lines may live. +But if, when view'd by your severer sight, +They seem unworthy to behold the light, +Let them with speed in deserv'd flames be thrown! +They'll send no sighs, nor murmur out a groan; 40 +But, dying silently, your justice own. + +[1] 'Lucretius': this piece is not contained in Anderson, or the edition + of 1693. + + + + + +SONGS. + + + + +STAY, PHOEBUS! + + +1 Stay, Phoebus! stay; + The world to which you fly so fast, + Conveying day + From us to them, can pay your haste + With no such object, nor salute your rise, + With no such wonder as De Mornay's eyes. + +2 Well does this prove + The error of those antique books, + Which made you move + About the world; her charming looks + Would fix your beams, and make it ever day, + Did not the rolling earth snatch her away. + + + + +PEACE, BABBLING MUSE! + + +1 Peace, babbling Muse! + I dare not sing what you indite; + Her eyes refuse + To read the passion which they write. + She strikes my lute, but, if it sound, + Threatens to hurl it on the ground; + And I no less her anger dread, + Than the poor wretch that feigns him dead, + While some fierce lion does embrace + His breathless corpse, and lick his face; + Wrapp'd up in silent fear he lies, + Torn all in pieces if he cries. + + + + +CHLORIS! FAREWELL. + + +1 Chloris! farewell. I now must go; + For if with thee I longer stay, + Thy eyes prevail upon me so, + I shall prove blind, and lose my way. + +2 Fame of thy beauty, and thy youth, + Among the rest, me hither brought; + Finding this fame fall short of truth, + Made me stay longer than I thought. + +3 For I'm engaged by word and oath, + A servant to another's will; + Yet, for thy love, I'd forfeit both, + Could I be sure to keep it still. + +4 But what assurance can I take, + When thou, foreknowing this abuse, + For some more worthy lover's sake, + Mayst leave me with so just excuse? + +5 For thou mayst say, 'twas not thy fault + That thou didst thus inconstant prove; + Being by my example taught + To break thy oath, to mend thy love. + +6 No, Chloris! no: I will return, + And raise thy story to that height, + That strangers shall at distance burn, + And she distrust me reprobate. + +7 Then shall my love this doubt displace, + And gain such trust, that I may come + And banquet sometimes on thy face, + But make my constant meals at home. + + + + +TO FLAVIA. + + +1 'Tis not your beauty can engage + My wary heart; + The sun, in all his pride and rage, + Has not that art; + And yet he shines as bright as you, + If brightness could our souls subdue. + +2 'Tis not the pretty things you say, + Nor those you write, + Which can make Thyrsis' heart your prey: + For that delight, + The graces of a well-taught mind, + In some of our own sex we find. + +3 No, Flavia! 'tis your love I fear; + Love's surest darts, + Those which so seldom fail him, are + Headed with hearts; + Their very shadows make us yield; + Dissemble well, and win the field. + + + + +BEHOLD THE BRAND OF BEAUTY TOSS'D! + + +1 Behold the brand of beauty toss'd! + See how the motion does dilate the flame! + Delighted Love his spoils does boast, + And triumph in this game. + Fire, to no place confined, + Is both our wonder and our fear; + Moving the mind, + As lightning hurled through the air. + +2 High heaven the glory does increase + Of all her shining lamps, this artful way; + The sun in figures, such as these, + Joys with the moon to play; + To the sweet strains they advance, + Which do result from their own spheres, + As this nymph's dance + Moves with the numbers which she hears. + + + + +WHILE I LISTEN TO THY VOICE. + + +1 While I listen to thy voice, + Chloris! I feel my life decay; + That powerful noise + Calls my fleeting soul away. + Oh! suppress that magic sound, + Which destroys without a wound. + +2 Peace, Chloris! peace! or singing die, + That together you and I + To heaven may go; + For all we know + Of what the blessed do above, + Is, that they sing, and that they love. + + + + +GO, LOVELY ROSE! + + +1 Go, lovely Rose! + Tell her that wastes her time and me, + That now she knows, + When I resemble her to thee, + How sweet and fair she seems to be. + +2 Tell her that's young, + And shuns to have her graces spied, + That hadst thou sprung + In deserts, where no men abide, + Thou must have uncommended died. + +3 Small is the worth + Of beauty from the light retired; + Bid her come forth, + Suffer herself to be desired, + And not blush so to be admired. + +4 Then die! that she + The common fate of all things rare + May read in thee; + How small a part of time they share + That are so wondrous sweet and fair! + + + + +SUNG BY MRS KNIGHT TO HER MAJESTY, +ON HER BIRTHDAY. + + +This happy day two lights are seen, +A glorious saint, a matchless queen;[1] +Both named alike, both crown'd appear, +The saint above, th'Infanta here. +May all those years which Catherine +The martyr did for heaven resign, +Be added to the line +Of your bless'd life among us here! +For all the pains that she did feel, +And all the torments of her wheel, +May you as many pleasures share! +May heaven itself content +With Catherine the Saint! +Without appearing old, +An hundred times may you, +With eyes as bright as now, +This welcome day behold! + +[1] 'Matchless queen': Queen Catherine was born on the day set apart in + the calendar for the commemoration of the martyrdom of St. + Catherine. + + + + +SONG. + + +1 Say, lovely dream! where couldst thou find + Shades to counterfeit that face? + Colours of this glorious kind + Come not from any mortal place. + +2 In heaven itself thou sure wert dress'd + With that angel-like disguise: + Thus deluded am I bless'd, + And see my joy with closed eyes. + +3 But, ah! this image is too kind + To be other than a dream; + Cruel Saccharissa's mind + Never put on that sweet extreme! + +4 Fair dream! if thou intend'st me grace, + Change that heavenly face of thine; + Paint despised love in thy face, + And make it to appear like mine. + +5 Pale, wan, and meagre let it look, + With a pity-moving shape, + Such as wander by the brook + Of Lethe, or from graves escape. + +6 Then to that matchless nymph appear, + In whose shape thou shinest so; + Softly in her sleeping ear, + With humble words, express my woe. + +7 Perhaps from greatness, state, and pride, + Thus surprised she may fall; + Sleep does disproportion hide, + And, death resembling, equals all. + + + + + +PROLOGUES AND EPILOGUES. + + + + +PROLOGUE FOR THE LADY-ACTORS. +SPOKEN BEFORE KING CHARLES II. + + +Amaze us not with that majestic frown, +But lay aside the greatness of your crown! +And for that look which does your people awe, +When in your throne and robes you give them law, +Lay it by here, and give a gentler smile, +Such as we see great Jove's in picture, while +He listens to Apollo's charming lyre, +Or judges of the songs he does inspire. +Comedians on the stage show all their skill, +And after do as Love and Fortune will. 10 +We are less careful, hid in this disguise; +In our own clothes more serious and more wise. +Modest at home, upon the stage more bold, +We seem warm lovers, though our breasts be cold; +A fault committed here deserves no scorn, +If we act well the parts to which we're born. + + + + +PROLOGUE TO THE 'MAID'S TRAGEDY.'[1] + + +Scarce should we have the boldness to pretend +So long-renown'd a tragedy to mend, +Had not already some deserved your praise +With like attempt. Of all our elder plays +This and _Philaster_ have the loudest fame; +Great are their faults, and glorious is their flame. +In both our English genius is express'd; 7 +Lofty and bold, but negligently dress'd. + +Above our neighbours our conceptions are; +But faultless writing is th'effect of care. +Our lines reform'd, and not composed in haste, +Polished like marble, would like marble last.[2] +But as the present, so the last age writ; +In both we find like negligence and wit. +Were we but less indulgent to our faults, +And patience had to cultivate our thoughts, +Our Muse would flourish, and a nobler rage +Would honour this than did the Grecian stage. + +Thus says our author, not content to see +That others write as carelessly as he; 20 +Though he pretends not to make things complete, +Yet, to please you, he'd have the poets sweat. + +In this old play, what's new we have express'd +In rhyming verse, distinguish'd from the rest; +That as the Rhone its hasty way does make +(Not mingling waters) through Geneva's lake, +So having here the different styles in view, +You may compare the former with the new. + +If we less rudely shall the knot untie, +Soften the rigour of the tragedy, 30 +And yet preserve each person's character, +Then to the other this you may prefer. +'Tis left to you: the boxes and the pit, +Are sov'reign judges of this sort of wit. +In other things the knowing artist may +Judge better than the people; but a play, +(Made for delight, and for no other use) +If you approve it not, has no excuse. + +[1] 'Maid's Tragedy': Waller altered this tragedy without success. +[2] 'Marble last': these lines occur in a previous poem. + + + + +EPILOGUE TO THE 'MAID'S TRAGEDY.' +SPOKEN BY THE KING. + + +The fierce Melantius was content, you see, +The king should live; be not more fierce than he; +Too long indulgent to so rude a time, +When love was held so capital a crime, +That a crown'd head could no compassion find, +But died--because the killer had been kind! +Nor is't less strange, such mighty wits as those +Should use a style in tragedy like prose. +Well-sounding verse, where princes tread the stage, +Should speak their virtue, or describe their rage. 10 +By the loud trumpet, which our courage aids, +We learn that sound, as well as sense, persuades; +And verses are the potent charms we use, +Heroic thoughts and virtue to infuse. + +When next we act this tragedy again, +Unless you like the change, we shall be slain. +The innocent Aspasia's life or death, +Amintor's too, depends upon your breath. +Excess of love was heretofore the cause; +Now if we die, 'tis want of your applause. 20 + + + + +ANOTHER EPILOGUE TO THE 'MAID'S TRAGEDY.' +DESIGNED UPON THE FIRST ALTERATION OF THE PLAY, WHEN THE KING ONLY WAS +LEFT ALIVE. + + +Aspasia bleeding on the stage does lie, +To show you still 'tis the Maid's Tragedy. +The fierce Melantius was content, you see, +The king should live; be not more fierce than he; +Too long indulgent to so rude a time, +When love was held so capital a crime, +That a crown'd head could no compassion find, +But died--because the killer had been kind! +This better-natured poet had reprieved +Gentle Amintor too, had he believed 10 +The fairer sex his pardon could approve, +Who to ambition sacrificed his love. +Aspasia he has spared; but for her wound +(Neglected love!) there could no salve be found. + +When next we act this tragedy again, +Unless you like the change, I must be slain. +Excess of love was heretofore the cause; +Now if I die, 'tis want of your applause. + + + + + +EPIGRAMS, EPITAPHS, AND FRAGMENTS. + + + + +UNDER A LADY'S PICTURE. + + +Such Helen was! and who can blame the boy[1] +That in so bright a flame consumed his Troy? +But had like virtue shined in that fair Greek, +The am'rous shepherd had not dared to seek +Or hope for pity; but with silent moan, +And better fate, had perished alone. + +[1] Paris. + + + + +OF A LADY WHO WRIT IN PRAISE OF MIRA. + + +While she pretends to make the graces known +Of matchless Mira, she reveals her own; +And when she would another's praise indite, +Is by her glass instructed how to write. + + + + +TO ONE MARRIED TO AN OLD MAN. + + +Since thou wouldst needs (bewitch'd with some ill charms!) +Be buried in those monumental arms, +All we can wish is, may that earth lie light +Upon thy tender limbs! and so good night. + + + + +AN EPIGRAM ON A PAINTED LADY WITH ILL TEETH. + + +Were men so dull they could not see +That Lyce painted; should they flee, +Like simple birds, into a net +So grossly woven and ill set, +Her own teeth would undo the knot, +And let all go that she had got. +Those teeth fair Lyce must not show +If she would bite; her lovers, though +Like birds they stoop at seeming grapes, +Are disabused when first she gapes; +The rotten bones discover'd there, +Show 'tis a painted sepulchre. + + + + +EPIGRAM UPON THE GOLDEN MEDAL.[1] + + +Our guard upon the royal side! +On the reverse our beauty's pride! +Here we discern the frown and smile, +The force and glory of our isle. +In the rich medal, both so like +Immortals stand, it seems antique; +Carved by some master, when the bold +Greeks made their Jove descend in gold, +And Danae[2] wond'ring at their shower, +Which, falling, storm'd her brazen tower. +Britannia there, the fort in vain +Had batter'd been with golden rain; +Thunder itself had fail'd to pass; +Virtue's a stronger guard than brass. + +[1] 'Golden Medal': it is said that a Miss Stewart, the favourite of the + unprincipled king, is the original of the figure of Britannia on the + medals to which the poet here alludes. +[2] Transcriber's note: The original text has a single dot over the + second "a" and another over the "e", rather than the more + conventional diaresis shown here. + + + + +WRITTEN ON A CARD THAT HER MAJESTY TORE AT OMBRE. + + +The cards you tear in value rise; +So do the wounded by your eyes. +Who to celestial things aspire, +Are by that passion raised the higher. + + + + +TO MR GRANVILLE (NOW LORD LANSDOWNE), +ON HIS VERSES TO KING JAMES II. + + +An early plant! which such a blossom bears, +And shows a genius so beyond his years; +A judgment! that could make so fair a choice; +So high a subject to employ his voice; +Still as it grows, how sweetly will he sing +The growing greatness of our matchless king! + + + + +LONG AND SHORT LIFE. + + +Circles are praised, not that abound +In largeness, but th'exactly round: +So life we praise that does excel +Not in much time, but acting well. + + + + +TRANSLATED OUT OF SPANISH. + + +Though we may seem importunate, + While your compassion we implore; +They whom you make too fortunate, + May with presumption vex you more. + + + + +TRANSLATED OUT OF FRENCH. + + +Fade, flowers! fade, Nature will have it so; +'Tis but what we must in our autumn do! +And as your leaves lie quiet on the ground, +The loss alone by those that loved them found; +So in the grave shall we as quiet lie, +Miss'd by some few that loved our company; +But some so like to thorns and nettles live, +That none for them can, when they perish, grieve. + + + + +SOME VERSES OF AN IMPERFECT COPY, DESIGNED FOR A FRIEND, ON HIS +TRANSLATION OF OVID'S 'FASTI.' + + +Rome's holy-days you tell, as if a guest +With the old Romans you were wont to feast. +Numa's religion, by themselves believed, +Excels the true, only in show received. +They made the nations round about them bow, +With their dictators taken from the plough; +Such power has justice, faith, and honesty! +The world was conquer'd by morality. +Seeming devotion does but gild a knave, +That's neither faithful, honest, just, nor brave; +But where religion does with virtue join, +It makes a hero like an angel shine. + + + + +ON THE STATUE OF KING CHARLES I., AT CHARING CROSS, IN THE YEAR 1674. + + +That the First Charles does here in triumph ride, +See his son reign where he a martyr died, +And people pay that rev'rence as they pass, +(Which then he wanted!) to the sacred brass, +Is not the effect of gratitude alone, +To which we owe the statue and the stone; +But Heaven this lasting monument has wrought, +That mortals may eternally be taught +Rebellion, though successful, is but vain, +And kings so kill'd rise conquerors again. +This truth the royal image does proclaim, +Loud as the trumpet of surviving Fame. + + + + +PRIDE. + + +Not the brave Macedonian youth[1] alone, +But base Caligula, when on the throne, +Boundless in power, would make himself a god, +As if the world depended on his nod. +The Syrian king[2] to beasts was headlong thrown, +Ere to himself he could be mortal known. +The meanest wretch, if Heaven should give him line, +Would never stop till he were thought divine. +All might within discern the serpent's pride, +If from ourselves nothing ourselves did hide. +Let the proud peacock his gay feathers spread, +And woo the female to his painted bed; +Let winds and seas together rage and swell-- +This Nature teaches, and becomes them well. +'Pride was not made for men;'[3] a conscious sense +Of guilt, and folly, and their consequence, +Destroys the claim, and to beholders tells, +Here nothing but the shape of manhood dwells. + +[1] 'Macedonian youth': Alexander. +[2] 'Syrian king': Nebuchadnezzar. +[3] 'For men': Ecclus. x. 18. + + + + +EPITAPH ON SIR GEORGE SPEKE. + + +Under this stone lies virtue, youth, +Unblemish'd probity, and truth, +Just unto all relations known, +A worthy patriot, pious son; +Whom neighb'ring towns so often sent +To give their sense in Parliament; +With lives and fortunes trusting one +Who so discreetly used his own. +Sober he was, wise, temperate, 9 +Contented with an old estate, +Which no foul avarice did increase, +Nor wanton luxury make less. +While yet but young his father died, +And left him to a happy guide; +Not Lemuel's mother with more care +Did counsel or instruct her heir, +Or teach with more success her son +The vices of the time to shun. +An heiress she; while yet alive, +All that was hers to him did give; 20 +And he just gratitude did show +To one that had obliged him so; +Nothing too much for her he thought, +By whom he was so bred and taught. +So (early made that path to tread, +Which did his youth to honour lead) +His short life did a pattern give +How neighbours, husbands, friends, should live. + +The virtues of a private life +Exceed the glorious noise and strife 30 +Of battles won; in those we find +The solid int'rest of mankind. + +Approved by all, and loved so well, +Though young, like fruit that's ripe, he fell. + + + + +EPITAPH ON COLONEL CHARLES CAVENDISH.[1] + + +Here lies Charles Ca'ndish; let the marble stone +That hides his ashes make his virtue known. +Beauty and valour did his short life grace, +The grief and glory of his noble race! +Early abroad he did the world survey, +As if he knew he had not long to stay; +Saw what great Alexander in the East, +And mighty Julius conquer'd in the West; +Then, with a mind as great as theirs, he came +To find at home occasion for his fame; 10 +Where dark confusion did the nations hide, +And where the juster was the weaker side. +Two loyal brothers took their sov'reign's part, +Employ'd their wealth, their courage, and their art; +The elder[2] did whole regiments afford; +The younger brought his conduct and his sword. +Born to command, a leader he begun, +And on the rebels lasting honour won. +The horse, instructed by their general's worth, +Still made the king victorious in the north. 20 +Where Ca'ndish fought, the Royalists prevail'd; +Neither his courage nor his judgment fail'd. +The current of his vict'ries found no stop, +Till Cromwell came, his party's chiefest prop. +Equal success had set these champions high, +And both resolved to conquer or to die. +Virtue with rage, fury with valour strove; +But that must fall which is decreed above! +Cromwell, with odds of number and of fate, +Removed this bulwark of the church and state; 30 +Which the sad issue of the war declared, +And made his task, to ruin both, less hard. +So when the bank, neglected, is o'erthrown, +The boundless torrent does the country drown. +Thus fell the young, the lovely, and the brave;-- +Strew bays and flowers on his honoured grave! + +[1] 'Charles Cavendish': younger son of the Earl of Devonshire, and + brother of Lady Rich; slain in 1643 at Gainsborough, fighting on the + king's side, in the twenty-third year of his age. +[2] 'The elder': afterwards Earl of Devonshire. + + + + +EPITAPH ON THE LADY SEDLEY.[1] + + +Here lies the learned Savil's heir, +So early wise, and lasting fair, +That none, except her years they told, +Thought her a child, or thought her old. +All that her father knew or got, +His art, his wealth, fell to her lot; +And she so well improved that stock, +Both of his knowledge and his flock, +That wit and fortune, reconciled +In her, upon each other smiled. 10 +While she to every well-taught mind +Was so propitiously inclined, +And gave such title to her store, +That none, but th'ignorant, were poor. +The Muses daily found supplies, +Both from her hands and from her eyes. +Her bounty did at once engage, +And matchless beauty warm their rage. +Such was this dame in calmer days, +Her nation's ornament and praise! 20 +But when a storm disturb'd our rest, +The port and refuge of the oppress'd. +This made her fortune understood, +And look'd on as some public good. +So that (her person and her state, +Exempted from the common fate) +In all our civil fury she +Stood, like a sacred temple, free. +May here her monument stand so, +To credit this rude age! and show +To future times, that even we +Some patterns did of virtue see; +And one sublime example had +Of good, among so many bad. + +[1] 'Lady Sedley': daughter of Sir Henry Savil, provost of Eton, and who + married Sir John Sedley. + + + + +EPITAPH, +TO BE WRITTEN UNDER THE LATIN INSCRIPTION UPON THE TOMB OF THE ONLY SON +OF THE LORD ANDOVER.[1] + + +'Tis fit the English reader should be told, +In our own language, what this tomb does hold. +'Tis not a noble corpse alone does lie +Under this stone, but a whole family. +His parents' pious care, their name, their joy, +And all their hope, lies buried with this boy; +This lovely youth! for whom we all made moan, +That knew his worth, as he had been our own. + +Had there been space and years enough allow'd, +His courage, wit, and breeding to have show'd, 10 +We had not found, in all the num'rous roll +Of his famed ancestors, a greater soul; +His early virtues to that ancient stock +Gave as much honour, as from thence he took. + +Like buds appearing ere the frosts are past, +To become man he made such fatal haste, +And to perfection labour'd so to climb, +Preventing slow experience and time, +That 'tis no wonder Death our hopes beguiled; 19 +He's seldom old that will not be a child. + +[1] 'Lord Andover': the eldest son of the Earl of Berkshire. + + + + +EPITAPH UNFINISHED. + + +Great soul! for whom Death will no longer stay, +But sends in haste to snatch our bliss away. +O cruel Death! to those you take more kind, +Than to the wretched mortals left behind! +Here beauty, youth, and noble virtue shined, +Free from the clouds of pride that shade the mind. +Inspired verse may on this marble live, +But can no honour to thy ashes give-- + + + + + +DIVINE POEMS.[1] + + + + +OF DIVINE LOVE. +A POEM IN SIX CANTOS. + + +Floriferis ut apes in saltibus omnia libant, +Sic nos Scripturae depascimur aurea dicta; +Aurea! perpetua semper dignissima vita! +Nam divinus amor cum coepit vociferari, +Diffugiunt animi terrores.... _Lucretius_, lib. iii. + +Exul eram, requiesque mihi, non fama, petita est, +Mens intenta suis ne foret usque malis: +Namque ubi mota calent sacra mea pectora Musa, +Altior humano spiritua ille malo est. + OVID. _De Trist_. lib. iv. el. I. + +ARGUMENTS. + +I. Asserting the authority of the Scripture, in which this love is +revealed.--II. The preference and love of God to man in the creation.-- +III. The same love more amply declared in our redemption.--IV. How +necessary this love is to reform mankind, and how excellent in itself.-- +V. Showing how happy the world would be, if this love were universally +embraced.--VI. Of preserving this love in our memory, and how useful +the contemplation thereof is. + +[1] These were Waller's latest poems, composed when he was eighty-two. + + + +CANTO I. + + +The Grecian Muse has all their gods survived, +Nor Jove at us, nor Phoebus is arrived; +Frail deities! which first the poets made, +And then invoked, to give their fancies aid. +Yet if they still divert us with their rage, +What may be hoped for in a better age, +When not from Helicon's imagined spring, +But Sacred Writ, we borrow what we sing? +This with the fabric of the world begun, +Elder than light, and shall outlast the sun. 10 +Before this oracle, like Dagon, all +The false pretenders, Delphos, Ammon, fall; +Long since despised and silent, they afford +Honour and triumph to th'Eternal Word. + +As late philosophy[1] our globe has graced, +And rolling earth among the planets placed, +So has this book entitled us to heaven, +And rules to guide us to that mansion given; +Tells the conditions how our peace was made, +And is our pledge for the great Author's aid. 20 +His power in Nature's ample book we find, +But the less volume does express his mind. + +This light unknown, bold Epicurus taught +That his bless'd gods vouchsafe us not a thought, +But unconcern'd let all below them slide, +As fortune does, or human wisdom, guide. +Religion thus removed, the sacred yoke, +And band of all society, is broke. +What use of oaths, of promise, or of test, +Where men regard no God but interest? 30 +What endless war would jealous nations tear, +If none above did witness what they swear? +Sad fate of unbelievers, and yet just, +Among themselves to find so little trust! +Were Scripture silent, Nature would proclaim, +Without a God, our falsehood and our shame. +To know our thoughts the object of his eyes, +Is the first step t'wards being good or wise; +For though with judgment we on things reflect, +Our will determines, not our intellect. 40 +Slaves to their passion, reason men employ +Only to compass what they would enjoy. +His fear to guard us from ourselves we need, +And Sacred Writ our reason does exceed; +For though heaven shows the glory of the Lord, +Yet something shines more glorious in His Word; +His mercy this (which all His work excels!) +His tender kindness and compassion tells; +While we, inform'd by that celestial Book, +Into the bowels of our Maker look. 50 +Love there reveal'd (which never shall have end, +Nor had beginning) shall our song commend; +Describe itself, and warm us with that flame +Which first from heaven, to make us happy, came. + +[1] 'Late philosophy': that of Copernicus. + + + +CANTO II. + + +The fear of hell, or aiming to be bless'd, +Savours too much of private interest. +This moved not Moses, nor the zealous Paul, 57 +Who for their friends abandon'd soul and all;[1] +A greater yet from heaven to hell descends, +To save, and make his enemies his friends. +What line of praise can fathom such a love, +Which reach'd the lowest bottom from above? +The royal prophet,[2] that extended grace +From heaven to earth, measured but half that space. +The law was regnant, and confined his thought; +Hell was not conquer'd when that poet wrote; +Heaven was scarce heard of until He came down, +To make the region where love triumphs known. + +That early love of creatures yet unmade, +To frame the world the Almighty did persuade; 70 +For love it was that first created light, +Moved on the waters, chased away the night +From the rude Chaos, and bestow'd new grace +On things disposed of to their proper place; +Some to rest here, and some to shine above; +Earth, sea, and heaven, were all th'effects of love. +And love would be return'd; but there was none +That to themselves or others yet were known; +The world a palace was without a guest, +Till one appears that must excel the rest; 80 +One! like the Author, whose capacious mind +Might, by the glorious work, the Maker find; +Might measure heaven, and give each star a name; +With art and courage the rough ocean tame; +Over the globe with swelling sails might go, +And that 'tis round by his experience know; +Make strongest beasts obedient to his will, +And serve his use the fertile earth to till. + +When, by His Word, God had accomplish'd all, 89 +Man to create He did a council call; +Employed His hand, to give the dust He took +A graceful figure, and majestic look; +With His own breath convey'd into his breast +Life, and a soul fit to command the rest; +Worthy alone to celebrate His name +For such a gift, and tell from whence it came. +Birds sing His praises in a wilder note, +But not with lasting numbers and with thought, +Man's great prerogative! but above all +His grace abounds in His new fav'rite's fall. 100 + +If He create, it is a world He makes; +If He be angry, the creation shakes; +From His just wrath our guilty parents fled; +He cursed the earth, but bruised the serpent's head. +Amidst the storm His bounty did exceed, +In the rich promise of the Virgin's seed; +Though justice death, as satisfaction, craves, +Love finds a way to pluck us from our graves. + +[1] 'Abandoned soul and all': Exodus xxxii. 32. Ep. to the Romans ix. 3. +[2]: 'Royal prophet': David. + + + +CANTO III. + + +Not willing terror should His image move; +He gives a pattern of eternal love; 110 +His Son descends to treat a peace with those +Which were, and must have ever been, His foes. +Poor He became, and left His glorious seat +To make us humble, and to make us great; +His business here was happiness to give +To those whose malice could not let Him live. + +Legions of angels, which He might have used, +(For us resolved to perish) He refused; +While they stood ready to prevent His loss, +Love took Him up, and nail'd Him to the cross. 120 + +Immortal love! which in His bowels reign'd, +That we might be by such great love constrain'd +To make return of love. Upon this pole +Our duty does, and our religion, roll. +To love is to believe, to hope, to know; +'Tis an essay, a taste of heaven below! + +He to proud potentates would not be known; +Of those that loved Him He was hid from none. +Till love appear we live in anxious doubt; +But smoke will vanish when the flame breaks out; 130 +This is the fire that would consume our dross, +Refine, and make us richer by the loss. + +Could we forbear dispute, and practise love, +We should agree as angels do above. +Where love presides, not vice alone does find +No entrance there, but virtues stay behind; +Both faith, and hope, and all the meaner train +Of mortal virtues, at the door remain. +Love only enters as a native there, +For, born in heaven, it does but sojourn here. 140 + +He that alone would wise and mighty be, +Commands that others love as well as He. +Love as He loved!--How can we soar so high?-- +He can add wings, when He commands to fly. +Nor should we be with this command dismay'd; +He that examples gives, will give His aid; +For He took flesh, that where His precepts fail, +His practice as a pattern may prevail. +His love, at once, and dread, instruct our thought; +As man He suffer'd, and as God He taught. 150 +Will for the deed He takes; we may with ease +Obedient be, for if we love we please. +Weak though we are, to love is no hard task, +And love for love is all that Heaven does ask. +Love! that would all men just and temp'rate make, 155 +Kind to themselves, and others, for His sake. + +'Tis with our minds as with a fertile ground, +Wanting this love they must with weeds abound, +(Unruly passions), whose effects are worse +Than thorns and thistles springing from the curse. 160 + + + + +CANTO IV. + + +To glory man, or misery, is born, +Of his proud foe the envy, or the scorn; +Wretched he is, or happy, in extreme; +Base in himself, but great in Heaven's esteem; +With love, of all created things the best; +Without it, more pernicious than the rest; +For greedy wolves unguarded sheep devour +But while their hunger lasts, and then give o'er; +Man's boundless avarice his wants exceeds, +And on his neighbours round about him feeds. 170 + +His pride and vain ambition are so vast, +That, deluge-like, they lay whole nations waste. +Debauches and excess (though with less noise) +As great a portion of mankind destroys. +The beasts and monsters Hercules oppress'd, +Might in that age some provinces infest; +These more destructive monsters are the bane +Of every age, and in all nations reign; +But soon would vanish, if the world were bless'd +With sacred love, by which they are repress'd. 180 + +Impendent death, and guilt that threatens hell, +Are dreadful guests, which here with mortals dwell; +And a vex'd conscience, mingling with their joy +Thoughts of despair, does their whole life annoy; +But love appearing, all those terrors fly; +We live contented, and contented die. +They in whose breast this sacred love has place, 187 +Death, as a passage to their joy, embrace. +Clouds and thick vapours, which obscure the day, +The sun's victorious beams may chase away; +Those which our life corrupt and darken, love +(The nobler star!) must from the soul remove. +Spots are observed in that which bounds the year; +This brighter sun moves in a boundless sphere; +Of heaven the joy, the glory, and the light, +Shines among angels, and admits no night. + + + + +CANTO V. + + +This Iron Age (so fraudulent and bold!) +Touch'd with this love, would be an Age of Gold; +Not, as they feign'd, that oaks should honey drop, +Or land neglected bear an unsown crop; 200 +Love would make all things easy, safe, and cheap; +None for himself would either sow or reap; +Our ready help, and mutual love, would yield +A nobler harvest than the richest field. +Famine and death, confined to certain parts, +Extended are by barrenness of hearts. +Some pine for want where others surfeit now; +But then we should the use of plenty know. +Love would betwixt the rich and needy stand, +And spread heaven's bounty with an equal hand; 210 +At once the givers and receivers bless, +Increase their joy, and make their suff'ring less. +Who for Himself no miracle would make, +Dispensed with sev'ral for the people's sake; +He that, long fasting, would no wonder show, +Made loaves and fishes, as they ate them, grow. +Of all His power, which boundless was above, +Here He used none but to express His love; +And such a love would make our joy exceed, 219 +Not when our own, but other mouths we feed. + +Laws would be useless which rude nature awe; +Love, changing nature, would prevent the law; +Tigers and lions into dens we thrust, +But milder creatures with their freedom trust. +Devils are chain'd, and tremble; but the Spouse +No force but love, nor bond but bounty, knows. +Men (whom we now so fierce and dangerous see) +Would guardian angels to each other be; +Such wonders can this mighty love perform, +Vultures to doves, wolves into lambs transform! 230 +Love what Isaiah prophesied can do,[1] +Exalt the valleys, lay the mountains low, +Humble the lofty, the dejected raise, +Smooth and make straight our rough and crooked ways. +Love, strong as death, and like it, levels all; +With that possess'd, the great in title fall; +Themselves esteem but equal to the least, +Whom Heaven with that high character has bless'd. +This love, the centre of our union, can +Alone bestow complete repose on man; 240 +Tame his wild appetite, make inward peace, +And foreign strife among the nations cease. +No martial trumpet should disturb our rest, +Nor princes arm, though to subdue the East, +Where for the tomb so many heroes (taught +By those that guided their devotion) fought. +Thrice happy we, could we like ardour have +To gain His love, as they to win His grave! +Love as He loved! A love so unconfined, +With arms extended, would embrace mankind. 250 +Self-love would cease, or be dilated, when +We should behold as many selfs as men; +All of one family, in blood allied, +His precious blood, that for our ransom died. + +[1] 'Prophesied can do': Isaiah xl. 4. + + + + +CANTO VI. + + +Though the creation (so divinely taught!) +Prints such a lively image on our thought, +That the first spark of new-created light, +From Chaos struck, affects our present sight: +Yet the first Christians did esteem more bless'd +The day of rising, than the day of rest, 260 +That every week might new occasion give, +To make His triumph in their mem'ry live. +Then let our Muse compose a sacred charm, +To keep His blood among us ever warm, +And singing as the blessed do above, +With our last breath dilate this flame of love. +But on so vast a subject who can find +Words that may reach th'idea of his mind? +Our language fails; or, if it could supply, +What mortal thought can raise itself so high? 270 +Despairing here, we might abandon art, +And only hope to have it in our heart. +But though we find this sacred task too hard, +Yet the design, th'endeavour, brings reward. +The contemplation does suspend our woe, +And makes a truce with all the ills we know. +As Saul's afflicted spirit from the sound +Of David's harp, a present solace found;[1] +So, on this theme while we our Muse engage, +No wounds are felt, of fortune or of age. 280 +On divine love to meditate is peace, +And makes all care of meaner things to cease. + +Amazed at once, and comforted, to find +A boundless power so infinitely kind, +The soul contending to that light to flee +From her dark cell, we practise how to die; +Employing thus the poet's winged art, +To reach this love, and grave it in our heart. +Joy so complete, so solid, and severe, +Would leave no place for meaner pleasures there; 290 +Pale they would look, as stars that must be gone, +When from the East the rising sun comes on. + +[1] 'Solace found': 1 Sam. xvi. 23. + + + + +OF THE FEAR OF GOD. +IN TWO CANTOS. + + + +CANTO I. + + +The fear of God is freedom, joy, and peace, +And makes all ills that vex us here to cease. +Though the word fear some men may ill endure, +'Tis such a fear as only makes secure. +Ask of no angel to reveal thy fate; +Look in thy heart, the mirror of thy state. +He that invites will not th'invited mock, +Opening to all that do in earnest knock. +Our hopes are all well-grounded on this fear; +All our assurance rolls upon that sphere. 10 +This fear, that drives all other fears away, +Shall be my song, the morning of our day; +Where that fear is, there's nothing to be fear'd; +It brings from heaven an angel for a guard. +Tranquillity and peace this fear does give; +Hell gapes for those that do without it live. +It is a beam, which He on man lets fall, +Of light, by which He made and governs all. +'Tis God alone should not offended be; +But we please others, as more great than He. 20 +For a good cause, the sufferings of man +May well be borne; 'tis more than angels can. +Man, since his fall, in no mean station rests, +Above the angels, or below the beasts. +He with true joy their hearts does only fill, +That thirst and hunger to perform His will. +Others, though rich, shall in this world be vex'd, +And sadly live in terror of the next. +The world's great conqu'ror[1] would his point pursue, +And wept because he could not find a new; 30 +Which had he done, yet still he would have cried, +To make him work until a third he spied. +Ambition, avarice, will nothing owe +To Heaven itself, unless it make them grow. +Though richly fed, man's care does still exceed; +Has but one mouth, yet would a thousand feed. +In wealth and honour, by such men possess'd, +If it increase not, there is found no rest. +All their delight is while their wish comes in; +Sad when it stops, as there had nothing been. 40 +'Tis strange men should neglect their present store, +And take no joy but in pursuing more; +No! though arrived at all the world can aim; +This is the mark and glory of our frame, +A soul capacious of the Deity, +Nothing but He that made can satisfy. +A thousand worlds, if we with Him compare, 47 +Less than so many drops of water are. +Men take no pleasure but in new designs; +And what they hope for, what they have outshines. +Our sheep and oxen seem no more to crave, +With full content feeding on what they have; +Vex not themselves for an increase of store, +But think to-morrow we shall give them more. +What we from day to day receive from Heaven, +They do from us expect it should be given. +We made them not, yet they on us rely, +More than vain men upon the Deity; +More beasts than they! that will not understand +That we are fed from His immediate hand. 60 +Man, that in Him has being, moves, and lives, +What can he have, or use, but what He gives? +So that no bread can nourishment afford, +Or useful be, without His sacred Word. + +[1] 'Great conqueror': Alexander. + + + +CANTO II. + + +Earth praises conquerors for shedding blood, +Heaven those that love their foes, and do them good. +It is terrestrial honour to be crown'd +For strewing men, like rushes, on the ground. +True glory 'tis to rise above them all, +Without th'advantage taken by their fall. 70 +He that in sight diminishes mankind, +Does no addition to his stature find; +But he that does a noble nature show, +Obliging others, still does higher grow; +For virtue practised such a habit gives, +That among men he like an angel lives; +Humbly he doth, and without envy, dwell, +Loved and admired by those he does excel. +Fools anger show, which politicians hide; 79 +Bless'd with this fear, men let it not abide. +The humble man, when he receives a wrong, +Refers revenge to whom it doth belong; +Nor sees he reason why he should engage, +Or vex his spirit for another's rage. +Placed on a rock, vain men he pities, toss'd +On raging waves, and in the tempest lost. +The rolling planets, and the glorious sun, +Still keep that order which they first begun; +They their first lesson constantly repeat, +Which their Creator as a law did set. 90 +Above, below, exactly all obey; +But wretched men have found another way; +Knowledge of good and evil, as at first, +(That vain persuasion!) keeps them still accursed! +The Sacred Word refusing as a guide, +Slaves they become to luxury and pride. +As clocks, remaining in the skilful hand +Of some great master, at the figure stand, +But when abroad, neglected they do go, +At random strike, and the false hour do show; 100 +So from our Maker wandering, we stray, +Like birds that know not to their nests the way. +In Him we dwelt before our exile here, +And may, returning, find contentment there: +True joy may find, perfection of delight, +Behold his face, and shun eternal night. + +Silence, my Muse! make not these jewels cheap, +Exposing to the world too large a heap. +Of all we read, the Sacred Writ is best, +Where great truths are in fewest words express'd. 110 + +Wrestling with death, these lines I did indite; +No other theme could give my soul delight. +Oh that my youth had thus employ'd my pen! 113 +Or that I now could write as well as then! +But 'tis of grace, if sickness, age, and pain, +Are felt as throes, when we are born again; +Timely they come to wean us from this earth, +As pangs that wait upon a second birth. + + + + +OF DIVINE POESY. +TWO CANTOS. + +Occasioned upon sight of the 53d chapter of Isaiah turned into verse by +Mrs. Wharton + + + +CANTO I. + + +Poets we prize, when in their verse we find +Some great employment of a worthy mind. +Angels have been inquisitive to know +The secret which this oracle does show. +What was to come, Isaiah did declare, +Which she describes as if she had been there; +Had seen the wounds, which, to the reader's view, +She draws so lively that they bleed anew. +As ivy thrives which on the oak takes hold, +So, with the prophet's, may her lines grow old! 10 +If they should die, who can the world forgive, +(Such pious lines!) when wanton Sappho's live? +Who with His breath His image did inspire, +Expects it should foment a nobler fire; +Not love which brutes as well as men may know, +But love like His, to whom that breath we owe. +Verse so design'd, on that high subject wrote, +Is the perfection of an ardent thought; +The smoke which we from burning incense raise, 19 +When we complete the sacrifice of praise. +In boundless verse the fancy soars too high +For any object but the Deity. +What mortal can with Heaven pretend to share +In the superlatives of wise and fair? +A meaner subject when with these we grace, +A giant's habit on a dwarf we place. +Sacred should be the product of our Muse, +Like that sweet oil, above all private use, +On pain of death forbidden to be made, +But when it should be on the altar laid. 30 +Verse shows a rich inestimable vein +When, dropp'd from heaven, 'tis thither sent again. + +Of bounty 'tis that He admits our praise, +Which does not Him, but us that yield it, raise; +For as that angel up to heaven did rise, +Borne on the flame of Manoah's sacrifice, +So, wing'd with praise, we penetrate the sky; +Teach clouds and stars to praise Him as we fly; +The whole creation, (by our fall made groan!) +His praise to echo, and suspend their moan. 40 +For that He reigns, all creatures should rejoice, +And we with songs supply their want of voice. +The church triumphant, and the church below, +In songs of praise their present union show; +Their joys are full; our expectation long; +In life we differ, but we join in song. +Angels and we, assisted by this art, +May sing together, though we dwell apart. +Thus we reach heaven, while vainer poems must +No higher rise than winds may lift the dust. 50 +From that they spring; this from His breath that gave, +To the first dust, th'immortal soul we have; +His praise well sung (our great endeavour here), +Shakes off the dust, and makes that breath appear. + + + +CANTO II. + + +He that did first this way of writing grace,[1] +Conversed with the Almighty face to face; +Wonders he did in sacred verse unfold, +When he had more than eighty winters told. +The writer feels no dire effect of age, +Nor verse, that flows from so divine a rage. 60 +Eldest of Poets, he beheld the light, +When first it triumph'd o'er eternal night; +Chaos he saw, and could distinctly tell +How that confusion into order fell. +As if consulted with, he has express'd +The work of the Creator, and His rest; +How the flood drown'd the first offending race, +Which might the figure of our globe deface. +For new-made earth, so even and so fair, +Less equal now, uncertain makes the air; 70 +Surprised with heat, and unexpected cold, +Early distempers make our youth look old; +Our days so evil, and so few, may tell +That on the ruins of that world we dwell. +Strong as the oaks that nourish'd them, and high, +That long-lived race did on their force rely, +Neglecting Heaven; but we, of shorter date! +Should be more mindful of impendent fate. +To worms, that crawl upon this rubbish here, +This span of life may yet too long appear; 80 +Enough to humble, and to make us great, +If it prepare us for a nobler seat. + +Which well observing, he, in numerous lines, +Taught wretched man how fast his life declines; +In whom he dwelt before the world was made, +And may again retire when that shall fade. +The lasting Iliads have not lived so long +As his and Deborah's triumphant song. +Delphos unknown, no Muse could them inspire, +But that which governs the celestial choir. 90 +Heaven to the pious did this art reveal, +And from their store succeeding poets steal. +Homer's Scamander for the Trojans fought, +And swell'd so high, by her old Kishon taught. +His river scarce could fierce Achilles stay; +Hers, more successful, swept her foes away. +The host of heaven, his Phoebus and his Mars, +He arms, instructed by her fighting stars. +She led them all against the common foe; +But he (misled by what he saw below!) 100 +The powers above, like wretched men, divides, +And breaks their union into different sides. +The noblest parts which in his heroes shine, +May be but copies of that heroine. +Homer himself, and Agamemnon, she +The writer could, and the commander, be. +Truth she relates in a sublimer strain, +Than all the tales the boldest Greeks could feign; +For what she sung that Spirit did indite, +Which gave her courage and success in fight. 110 +A double garland crowns the matchless dame; +From heaven her poem and her conquest came. + +Though of the Jews she merit most esteem, +Yet here the Christian has the greater theme; +Her martial song describes how Sis'ra fell; +This sings our triumph over death and hell. +The rising light employ'd the sacred breath 117 +Of the blest Virgin and Elizabeth. +In songs of joy the angels sung His birth; +Here how He treated was upon the earth +Trembling we read! th'affliction and the scorn, +Which for our guilt so patiently was borne! +Conception, birth, and suff'ring, all belong +(Though various parts) to one celestial song; +And she, well using so divine an art, +Has in this concert sung the tragic part. + +As Hannah's seed was vow'd to sacred use, +So here this lady consecrates her Muse. +With like reward may Heaven her bed adorn, +With fruit as fair as by her Muse is born! 130 + +[1] 'Writing grace': Moses. + + + + +ON THE PARAPHRASE OF THE LORD'S PRAYER. +WRITTEN BY MRS WHARTON. + + +Silence, you winds! listen, ethereal lights! +While our Urania sings what Heaven indites; +The numbers are the nymph's; but from above +Descends the pledge of that eternal love. +Here wretched mortals have not leave alone, +But are instructed to approach His throne; +And how can He to miserable men +Deny requests which His own hand did pen? + +In the Evangelists we find the prose +Which, paraphrased by her, a poem grows; +A devout rapture! so divine a hymn, +It may become the highest seraphim! +For they, like her, in that celestial choir, +Sing only what the Spirit does inspire. +Taught by our Lord, and theirs, with us they may +For all but pardon for offences pray. + + + + +SOME REFLECTIONS OF HIS UPON THE SEVERAL PETITIONS IN THE SAME PRAYER. + + +1 His sacred name with reverence profound + Should mention'd be, and trembling at the sound! + It was Jehovah; 'tis Our Father now; + So low to us does Heaven vouchsafe to bow![1] + He brought it down that taught us how to pray, + And did so dearly for our ransom pay. + +2 _His kingdom come._ For this we pray in vain + Unless he does in our affections reign. + Absurd it were to wish for such a King, + And not obedience to His sceptre bring, + Whose yoke is easy, and His burthen light, + His service freedom, and his judgments right. + +3 _His will be done._ In fact 'tis always done; + But, as in heaven, it must be made our own. + His will should all our inclinations sway, + Whom Nature, and the universe, obey. + Happy the man! whose wishes are confined + To what has been eternally designed; + Referring all to His paternal care, + To whom more dear than to ourselves we are. + +4 It is not what our avarice hoards up; + 'Tis He that feeds us, and that fills our cup; + Like new-born babes depending on the breast, + From day to day we on His bounty feast; + Nor should the soul expect above a day, + To dwell in her frail tenement of clay; + The setting sun should seem to bound our race, + And the new day a gift of special grace. + +5 _That he should all our trespasses forgive_, + While we in hatred with our neighbours live; + Though so to pray may seem an easy task, + We curse ourselves when thus inclined we ask, + This prayer to use, we ought with equal care + Our souls, as to the sacrament, prepare. + The noblest worship of the Power above, + Is to extol, and imitate his love; + Not to forgive our enemies alone, + But use our bounty that they may be won. + +6 _Guard us from all temptations of the foe_; + And those we may in several stations know; + The rich and poor in slipp'ry places stand. + Give us enough, but with a sparing hand! + Not ill-persuading want, nor wanton wealth, + But what proportion'd is to life and health. + For not the dead, but living, sing thy praise, + Exalt thy kingdom, and thy glory raise. + + Favete linguis!... + Virginibus puerisque canto.--HOR. + +[1] 'Vouchsafe to bow': Psalm xviii. 9. + + + + +ON THE FOREGOING DIVINE POEMS. + + +When we for age could neither read nor write, +The subject made us able to indite; +The soul, with nobler resolutions deck'd, +The body stooping, does herself erect. +No mortal parts are requisite to raise +Her that, unbodied, can her Maker praise. + +The seas are quiet when the winds give o'er; +So, calm are we when passions are no more! +For then we know how vain it was to boast +Of fleeting things, so certain to be lost. +Clouds of affection from our younger eyes +Conceal that emptiness which age descries. + +The soul's dark cottage, batter'd and decay'd, +Lets in new light through chinks that time has made; +Stronger by weakness, wiser men become, +As they draw near to their eternal home. +Leaving the old, both worlds at once they view, +That stand upon the threshold of the new. + + ....Miratur limen Olympi.--VIRG. + + + + + + +END OF WALLER'S POEMS. + + + * * * * * + + + +THE POETICAL WORKS + +OF + +SIR JOHN DENHAM. + + + + +LIFE OF SIR JOHN DENHAM. + + +Next to those poets who have exerted an influence on the _matter_, +should be ranked those who have improved the _manner_, of our song. So +that thus the same list may include the names of a Chaucer and a Waller, +of a Milton and a Denham--the more as we suspect none but a true poet +can materially improve even a poetical _mode_, can contrive even a new +stirrup to Pegasus, or even to retune the awful organ of Pythia. Neither +Denham nor Waller were great poets; but they have produced lines and +verses so good, and have, besides, exerted an influence so considerable +on modern versification, and the style of poetical utterance, that they +are entitled to a highly respectable place amidst the sons of British +song. + +Sir John Denham, although thoroughly English both in descent and in +complexion of mind, was born in Dublin in 1615. His father, whose name +also was Sir John (of Little Horseley, in Essex), was, at the time of +our poet's birth, the Chief Baron of Exchequer in Ireland. His mother +was Eleanor More, daughter of Sir Garret More, Baron of Mellefont. Two +years after the son's birth, the father, being made an English Baron of +Exchequer, returned to his native country, and educated young John in +London. Thence, at the age of sixteen, he went to study at Oxford, where +he became celebrated rather for dissipation than diligence. He was, +although a youth of imaginative temperament, excessively fond of +gambling; and it was said of him, that he was more given to "dreams and +dice than to study." His future eminence might be foreseen by some of +his friends; but, in general, men looked on him rather as an idle and +misled youth of fortune, than as a genius. Three years after, he removed +to Lincoln's Inn, where he continued occasionally to gamble, and was +sometimes punished for his pains, being plundered by more skilful or +unscrupulous gamesters, but did not forget his studies. His conscience, +on one occasion, aroused by a rebuke from a friend, awoke; and, to +confirm the resolutions which it forced upon him, he wrote and published +an "Essay on Gaming." In this respect he resembles Sir Richard Steele +when a young soldier, who, in order to cure himself of his dissipations, +wrote and published "The Christian Hero"--his object being, by drawing +the picture of a character exactly opposite to his own, to commit +himself irrevocably to virtue, and to break down all the bridges between +him and a return to vice. It is, alas! notorious, that Steele's holiness +turned out only to be a FIT, of not much longer duration than a morning +headache, and that the "Christian Hero" remains not as a model to which +its author's conduct was ever conformed, but as a severe, self-written +satire on his whole career. And so with Denham. For some time he forsook +the gambling-table, and applied his attention partly to law, and partly +to poetry, translating, in 1636, the "Second Book of the Aeneid;" but +when his father died, two years afterwards, and left him some thousands, +he rushed again to the dice-box, and melted them as rapidly as the wind +melts the snow of spring. + +"In 1642 he broke out," as Waller remarks of him, "like the Irish +Rebellion, threescore thousand strong, when nobody was aware, or in the +least suspected it," in the play of "Sophy;" and, sooth to say, like +that rebellion, his outbreak is lawless and irregular, as well as +strong; as in that rebellion, too, there is a rather needless +expenditure of blood. What Byron says of Dr. Polidori's tragedy, is +nearly true of "Sophy"-- + + "All stab, and everybody dies." + +Nothing can be more horrible and disgusting than many of the incidents. +A father suspecting and plotting against a dear and noble son; a son +deprived of sight by the command of a father, and meditating in his rage +and revenge the murder of his own favourite daughter, because she is +beloved by his father; and the deaths of both son and father by poison, +administered through means of a courtier who has betrayed both. Such are +the main hinges on which the plot of the piece turns. The versification, +too, is exceedingly unequal; sometimes swelling into rather full and +splendid blank verse, and anon shrinking up into lines stunted and +shrivelled, like boughs either touched by frost, or lopped by the axe of +the woodman. Still there are in "Sophy" a force of style, a maturity of +mind, an energy of declamation, and, here and there, an appreciation of +Shakspeare--shewn in a generous though hopeless rivalry of his manner-- +which account for the reception it at first met with, and seem to have +excited in Denham's contemporaries expectations which were never +fulfilled. This uprise, as well as that of the Irish (which took place +the year before it), turned out, on the whole, abortive. And yet what +fine lines and sentiments are the following, culled from "Sophy" almost +_ad aperturam libri_:-- + + "Fear and guilt + Are the same thing, and when our _actions are not_, + _Our fears are crimes_. + The east and west + Upon the globe, a _mathematic point + Only divides_; thus happiness and misery, + And all extremes, are still contiguous. + + More gallant actions have been lost, for want of being + Completely wicked, than have been performed + By being exactly virtuous. 'Tis hard to be + Exact in good, or excellent in ill; + Our will wants power, or else our power wants skill. + + When in the midst of fears we are surprised + With unexpected happiness, the first + _Degrees of joy are mere astonishment_. + Fear, the shadow + Of danger, like the shadow of our bodies, + _Is greater, then, when that which is the cause + Is farthest off_." + +The blinded prince's soliloquy, in the first scene of the fifth act, is +worthy of Shakspeare. We must quote the following lines:-- + + "Reason, my soul's eye, still sees + Clearly, and clearer for the want of eyes, + For gazing through the windows of the body + It met such several, such distracting objects; + But now confined within itself it sees + A strange and unknown world, and there discovers + _Torrents of anger, mountains of ambition, + Gulfs of desire, and towers of hope, large giants_, + Monsters and savage beasts; to vanquish these + Will be a braver conquest, than the old + Or the new world." + +Shortly after the appearance of "Sophy," he was admitted, by the form +then usual, Sheriff of Surrey, and appointed governor of Farnham Castle +for the king; this important post, however, he soon resigned, and +retreated to Oxford, where, in 1643, he published his poem entitled +"Cooper's Hill." This instantly became popular, and many who might have +seen in "Sophy" greater powers than were disclosed in this new effort, +envied its fame, and gave out that he had bought it of a vicar for forty +pounds. For this there was, of course, no proof, and it is only worth +mentioning because it is one of a large class of cases, in which envious +mediocrity, or crushed dulness, or jealous rivalry, has sought to snatch +hard-won laurels from the brow of genius. As if these laurels were so +smooth, and so soothing, as always to invite ambition, or as if they +were so flexible as to suit every brow! As if FIRE lurked not sometimes +in their leaves, and as if there were not, besides, a nobler jealousy in +the public mind ready to watch and to avenge their misappropriation. +Certain it is that not only, as Johnson remarks, was the attempt made to +rob Addison of "Cato," and Pope of the "Essay of Criticism," but it has +a hundred times taken place in the history of poetry. Rolt, as we saw in +our late life of Akenside, tried to snatch the honour of writing "The +Pleasures of Imagination" from its author. Lauder accused Milton of +plundering the Italians wholesale. Scott's early novels have only the +other day been most absurdly claimed for his brother Thomas. And +notwithstanding Shakspeare's well-known lines over his sepulchre at +Stratford-- + + "Bless'd be the man who spares these stones, + But curs'd be he who moves my bones"-- + +a worse outrage has been recently committed on his memory, than were his +dust, like Wickliffe's, tossed out of his tomb into the Avon--his plays +have been, with as much stupidity as malice, attributed to Lord Bacon! +Homer, too, has been found out to be a myth; and we know not if even +Dante's originality has altogether passed unquestioned in this age of +disbelief and downpulling; although what brow, save that thunder-scathed +pile, could wear those scorched laurels, and who but the "man who had +been in hell" could have written the "Inferno?" Worst of all, a class of +writers have of late sought to prove that there is no such thing as +originality--that genius means just dexterous borrowing-that the +"Appropriation Clause" is of divine right--and have certainly proved +themselves true to their own principles. + +In 1647, circumstances brought our poet more closely in connexion with +the royal family, and on one occasion he carried a message from the +Queen to King Charles, then in prison. He subsequently conducted, with +great success, the King's correspondence; and in April 1648 he conveyed +the young Duke of York (afterwards James II.) from London to France, and +delivered him to the charge of the Queen and the Prince of Wales. He +had, ere leaving Britain, written a translation of Cato-Major on Old +Age. While in France, attending on the exiled prince, he wrote a number +of poetical pieces at his master's desire; among others, a song in +honour of an embassy to Poland, which he and Lord Crofts undertook for +Charles II., and during which they are said to have collected L10,000 +for the royal cause from the Scotchmen who then abounded in that country +as travelling merchants or pedlars. Meanwhile his political +misdemeanours were punished by the Parliament confiscating the remnant +of his estate. In 1652, he returned to England penniless, and was +supported by the Earl of Pembroke. After the Restoration, Charles, more +mindful of him than of many of his friends and the partners of his +exile, bestowed on Denham the Surveyorship of the King's Buildings and +the Order of the Bath. The situation of Surveyor, even in his careless +and improvident hands, turned out a lucrative one; for it is said that +he cleared by it no less than L7000. Of his first wife, we hear little +or nothing; but about this time, flushed as he was with prosperity, and +the popularity of the writings he continued to produce, he contracted a +second marriage, which was so far from happy that its consequences led +to a fit of temporary derangement. Butler, then a disappointed and +exacerbated man, was malignant enough to lampoon him for lunacy--an act +which, Dr. Johnson well remarks, "no provocation could excuse." It was, +in Fuller's fine old quaint language, "breaking one whom God had bowed +before." Our readers will find Butler's squib in our edition of that +poet, vol. ii. p. 200, under the title of "A Panegyrick on Sir John +Denham's Recovery from his Madness." It is a piece quite unworthy of +Butler's powers, and its sting lies principally in charging Denham with +plagiarising "Cooper's Hill" and "Sophy," with gambling, and with +overreaching the King as Surveyor of the Public Buildings, and with an +overbearing and quarrelsome temper--but it contains no allusion to his +domestic infelicity. Some have hinted that the cause of his insanity lay +in jealousy--that Denham suspected his wife to be too intimate with the +Duke of York--that he poisoned her, and maddened in remorse. Whatever +the cause, the distemper was not of long continuance. He recovered in +time to write some verses on the death of Cowley, which took place in +1667; but in the next year he himself expired, and was buried by the +side of his friend in Westminster Abbey, not very far from Chaucer and +Spencer. His funeral took place on the 19th of March 1668. He had +attained the age of fifty-three. + +This is all we can definitely state of the history of Sir John Denham, +and certainly the light it casts on his character is neither very +plentiful nor very pleasing. A gambler in his early days, he became a +political intriguer, an unhappy husband, a maniac, and died in the prime +of life. It need only further be recorded of him, that, according to +some accounts, he first discovered the merits of Milton's "Paradise +Lost," and went about with the book new from the press in his hands, +shewing it to everybody, and exclaiming, "This beats us all, and the +ancients too!" If this story be true, it says as much for his heart as +his head for the generous disposition which made him praise a political +adversary, as for the critical taste which discerned at a glance the +value of the world's greatest poem. On the whole, however, Denham as a +man stands on the same general level with the Cavalier wits in the days +of Charles. If he did not rise so high as Cowley, he did not sink so low +as Rochester, or even as Butler. + +We may now regret, both that he did not live better, and that he did not +write more. He had unquestionably in him greater powers than he ever +expressed in his works. These are few, fragmentary, and unequal; but, +nevertheless, must be reckoned productions of no ordinary merit. They +discover a great deal of the body, and not a little of the soul, of +poetry. In the passages we cited from "Sophy," and throughout the whole +of that play, there is a vigorous and profound vein of reflection, as +well as of imagination. Like Shakspeare, although on a scale very much +inferior, he carries on a constant stream of subtle reflection amidst +all the windings of his story; and even the most critical points of the +drama are studded with pearls. Coleridge speaks of himself, or some one +else, as wishing to live "collaterally, or aside, to the onward progress +of society;" and thus, in the drama, there should ever be, as it were, a +projection, or _alias_, of the author standing collaterally, or aside, +to the bustling incidents and whirling passions, and calmly adding the +commentary of wisdom, as they rush impetuously on. Such essentially was +the chorus of the ancient Greek play; and a similar end is answered in +Shakspeare by the subtle asides, the glancing bye-lights, which his +wondrous intellect interposes amidst the rapid play of his fancy, the +exuberance of his wit, and the crowded incident and interchange of +passion created by his genius. Some have maintained that the philosophy +of a drama should be chiefly confined to the conceptions of the +characters, the development of the plot, and the management of the +dialogue--that all the reflection should be molten into the mass of the +play, and none of it embossed on the surface; but certainly neither +Shakspeare's, nor Schiller's, nor Goethe's dramas answer to this ideal-- +all of them, besides the philosophy, so to speak, afoot in the progress +of the story, contain a great deal standing still, quietly lurking in +nooks and corners, and yet exerting a powerful influence on the ultimate +effect and explanation of the whole. And so, according to its own +proportions, it is with Denham's "Sophy." Indeed, as we have above +hinted, its power lies more in these interesting individual beauties +than in its general structure. + +"Cooper's Hill," next to "Sophy," is undoubtedly his best production. +Dr. Johnson calls it the first English specimen of _local_ poetry--i.e., +of poetry in which a special scene is, through the embellishments of +traditionary recollection, moral reflections, and the power of +association generally, uplifted into a poetical light. This has been +done afterwards by Garth, in his "Claremont;" Pope, in his "Windsor +Forest;" Dyer, in his "Gronger-hill," and a hundred other instances. The +great danger in this class of poems, is lest imported sentiment and +historical reminiscence should overpower the living lineaments, and all +but blot out the memory of the actual landscape. And so it is to some +extent in "Cooper's Hill," the scene beheld from which is speedily lost +in a torrent of political reflection and moralising. The well-known +lines on the Thames are rhetorical and forcible, but not, we think, +highly poetical:-- + + "Oh, could I flow like thee, and make thy stream + My great example, as it is my theme! + Though deep, yet clear, though gentle, yet not dull, + Strong without rage, without o'erflowing full." + +The poem closes with another river-picture, which some will admire:-- + + "When a calm river, raised with sudden rains + Or snows dissolved, o'erflows the adjoining plains, + The husbandmen, with high-raised banks, secure + Their greedy hopes, and this he can endure; + But, if with bays and dams they strive to force + His channel to a new or narrow course, + No longer then--within his banks he dwells, + First to a torrent, then a deluge swells, + Stronger and fiercer by restraint he roars, + And knows no bound, but makes his power his shores." + +Again, he says of Thames:-- + + "Thames, the most loved of all the ocean's sons + By his old sire, to his embraces runs, + Hasting to pay his tribute to the sea, + Like mortal life to meet eternity. + Though with those streams he no resemblance hold + Whose foam is amber and their gravel gold. + His genuine and less guilty wealth t'explore, + Search not his bottom, but survey his shore." + +Yet, though fond of, and great in, describing rivers, he is not, after +all, the "river-god" of poetry. Professor Wilson speaks with a far +deeper voice:-- + + "Down falls the drawbridge with a thund'ring shock, + And, in an instant, ere the eye can know, + Binds the stern castle to the opposing rock, + And hangs in calmness o'er the flood below; + A raging flood, that, born among the hills, + Flows dancing on through many a nameless glen, + Till, join'd by all his tributary rills + From lake and tarn, from marsh and from fen, + He leaves his empire with a kingly glee, + And fiercely bids retire the billows of the sea!" + +Different poets are made to write on different rivers as well as on +different mountains. Denham paints well the calm majestic Thames; +Wilson, the rapid Spey; Scott, the immemorial and historic Forth; Burns, +the wild lonely Lugar and the Doon; and Thomas Aird (see his exquisitely +beautiful "River"), the pastoral Cluden. But the poet of the +St. Lawrence, with Niagara flinging itself over its crag like a mad +ocean--of the Ganges or the Orellana--has yet to be born, or at least +has yet to bring forth his conceptions of such a stupendous object in +poetry. + +In "Cooper's Hill" we find well, if not fully exhibited, what were +Denham's leading qualities--not high imagination or a fertile fancy, +although in neither of these was he conspicuously deficient, but manly +strength of thought and clearness of language. There are in him no +quaintnesses, no crotchets, no conceits, and no involutions or +affectations--all is transparent, masculine, and energetic. It is in +these respects that he became a model to Dryden and Pope, and may even +still be read with advantage for at least his style, which is + + "Strong without rage, without o'erflowing full." + +His translations we have included, not for their surpassing merit, but +because, in the first place, there is little of our author extant, and +we are happy to reprint every scrap of him we can find, and because +again he, according to Dr. Johnson, was "one of the first that understood +the necessity of emancipating translation from the drudgery of counting +lines and interpreting single words." There has, indeed, been recently a +reaction, attended in some cases with brilliant success--as in Bulwer's +"Ballads of Schiller"--in favour of the literal and lineal method; but +since such popular pieces as Dryden's "Virgil" and Pope's "Homer" have +been written on Denham's plan, it is interesting to preserve the model, +however rude, which they avowedly had in their eye. + +His smaller pieces are not remarkable, unless we except his vigorous +lines "On the Earl of Stafford's Trial and Death," containing such noble +sentiments as these-- + + "Such was his force of eloquence, to make + The hearers more concern'd than he that spake, + Each seem'd to act that part he came to see, + _And none was more a looker-on than he_; + So did he move our passions, some were known + _To wish for the defence, the crime their own_. + Now private pity strove with public hate, + _Reason with rage, and eloquence with fate_." + +Nor let us forget his verses on "Cowley's Death," which, although +unequal, and in their praise exaggerated, yet are in parts exceedingly +felicitous, as for instance, in the lines to which Macaulay, in his +"Milton," refers:-- + + "To him no author was unknown, + Yet what he wrote was all his own; + He melted not the ancient gold, + Nor with Ben Jonson did make bold + To plunder all the Roman stores + Of poets and of orators; + Horace's wit and Virgil's state + He did not steal, but emulate! + And when he would like them appear, + Their _garb_, but not their _clothes_, did wear." + + +Such is true criticism, which, in our judgment, means clear, sharp, +discriminating judgment expressed in the language and with the feelings +of poetry. + + + + + + +DENHAM'S POETICAL WORKS. + + + + + +POEMS UPON SEVERAL OCCASIONS. + + + + +COOPER'S HILL. + + +Sure there are poets which did never dream +Upon Parnassus, nor did taste the stream +Of Helicon; we therefore may suppose +Those made not poets, but the poets those, +And as courts make not kings, but kings the court, +So where the Muses and their train resort, +Parnassus stands; if I can be to thee +A poet, thou Parnassus art to me. +Nor wonder, if (advantaged in my flight, +By taking wing from thy auspicious height) 10 +Through untraced ways and airy paths I fly, +More boundless in my fancy than my eye: +My eye which, swift as thought, contracts the space +That lies between, and first salutes the place +Crown'd with that sacred pile, so vast, so high, +That, whether 'tis a part of earth or sky, +Uncertain seems, and may be thought a proud +Aspiring mountain, or descending cloud. +Paul's, the late theme of such a Muse,[1] whose flight 19 +Has bravely reach'd and soar'd above thy height: +Now shalt thou stand, though sword, or time, or fire, +Or zeal more fierce than they, thy fall conspire, +Secure, whilst thee the best of poets sings, +Preserved from ruin by the best of kings. +Under his proud survey the city lies, +And like a mist beneath a hill doth rise; +Whose state and wealth, the business and the crowd, +Seems at this distance but a darker cloud: +And is, to him who rightly things esteems, +No other in effect than what it seems: 30 +Where, with like haste, though sev'ral ways, they run, +Some to undo, and some to be undone; +While luxury and wealth, like war and peace, +Are each the other's ruin and increase; +As rivers lost in seas some secret vein +Thence reconveys, there to be lost again. +O happiness of sweet retired content! +To be at once secure and innocent. +Windsor the next (where Mars with Venus dwells, +Beauty with strength) above the valley swells 40 +Into my eye, and doth itself present +With such an easy and unforced ascent, +That no stupendous precipice denies +Access, no horror turns away our eyes: +But such a rise as doth at once invite +A pleasure and a rev'rence from the sight: +Thy mighty master's emblem, in whose face +Sate meekness, heighten'd with majestic grace; +Such seems thy gentle height, made only proud +To be the basis of that pompous load, 50 +Than which, a nobler weight no mountain bears, +But Atlas only, which supports the spheres. +When Nature's hand this ground did thus advance, +'Twas guided by a wiser power than Chance; +Mark'd out for such an use, as if 'twere meant +T' invite the builder, and his choice prevent. +Nor can we call it choice, when what we choose, +Folly or blindness only could refuse. +A crown of such majestic towers doth grace +The gods' great mother, when her heavenly race 60 +Do homage to her, yet she cannot boast, +Among that num'rous and celestial host. +More heroes than can Windsor; nor doth Fame's +Immortal book record more noble names. +Not to look back so far, to whom this isle +Owes the first glory of so brave a pile, +Whether to Caesar, Albanact, or Brute, +The British Arthur, or the Danish Knute, +(Though this of old no less contest did move +Than when for Homer's birth seven cities strove) 70 +(Like him in birth, thou shouldst be like in fame, +As thine his fate, if mine had been his flame), +But whosoe'er it was, Nature design'd +First a brave place, and then as brave a mind; +Not to recount those sev'ral kings, to whom +It gave a cradle, or to whom a tomb; +But thee, great Edward, and thy greater son[2] +(The lilies which his father wore, he won), +And thy Bellona,[3] who the consort came +Not only to thy bed, but to thy fame, so +She to thy triumph led one captive king,[4] +And brought that son, which did the second bring. +Then didst thou found that Order (whether love 83 +Or victory thy royal thoughts did move), +Each was a noble cause, and nothing less +Than the design, has been the great success: +Which foreign kings, and emperors esteem +The second honour to their diadem. +Had thy great destiny but given thee skill +To know, as well as power to act her will, 90 +That from those kings, who then thy captives were, +In after times should spring a royal pair +Who should possess all that thy mighty power, +Or thy desires more mighty, did devour: +To whom their better fate reserves whate'er +The victor hopes for, or the vanquish'd fear; +That blood, which thou and thy great grandsire shed, +And all that since these sister nations bled, +Had been unspilt, had happy Edward known. +That all the blood he spilt had been his own. 100 +When he that patron chose, in whom are join'd +Soldier and martyr, and his arms confin'd +Within the azure circle, he did seem +But to foretell, and prophesy of him, +Who to his realms that azure round hath join'd, +Which Nature for their bound at first design'd; +That bound, which to the world's extremest ends, +Endless itself, its liquid arms extends. +Nor doth he need those emblems which we paint, +But is himself the soldier and the saint. 110 +Here should my wonder dwell, and here my praise; +But my fix'd thoughts my wand'ring eye betrays, +Viewing a neighb'ring hill, whose top of late +A chapel crown'd, 'till in the common fate +Th' adjoining abbey fell. (May no such storm +Fall on our times, when ruin must reform!) +Tell me, my Muse! what monstrous dire offence, 117 +What crime could any Christian king incense +To such a rage? Was't luxury, or lust? +Was he so temperate, so chaste, so just? +Were these their crimes? They were his own much more; +But wealth is crime enough to him that's poor, +Who having spent the treasures of his crown, +Condemns their luxury to feed his own. +And yet this act, to varnish o'er the shame +Of sacrilege, must bear devotion's name. +No crime so bold, but would be understood +A real, or at least a seeming good: +Who fears not to do ill, yet fears the name, +And, free from conscience, is a slave to fame. 130 +Thus he the church at once protects, and spoils: +But princes' swords are sharper than their styles; +And thus to th'ages past he makes amends, +Their charity destroys, their faith defends. +Then did Religion in a lazy cell, +In empty, airy contemplations dwell; +And like the block, unmoved lay; but ours, +As much too active, like the stork devours. +Is there no temp'rate region can be known, +Betwixt their frigid, and our torrid zone? 140 +Could we not wake from that lethargic dream, +But to be restless in a worse extreme? +And for that lethargy was there no cure, +But to be cast into a calenture? +Can knowledge have no bound, but must advance +So far, to make us wish for ignorance, +And rather in the dark to grope our way, +Than, led by a false guide, to err by day? +Who sees these dismal heaps, but would demand +What barbarous invader sack'd the land? 150 +But when he hears no Goth, no Turk did bring +This desolation, but a Christian king; +When nothing but the name of zeal appears +'Twixt our best actions and the worst of theirs, +What does he think our sacrilege would spare, +When such th'effects of our devotions are? +Parting from thence 'twixt anger, shame and fear, +Those for what's past, and this for what's too near, +My eye descending from the hill, surveys +Where Thames among the wanton valleys strays. 160 +Thames, the most loved of all the Ocean's sons +By his old sire, to his embraces runs; +Hasting to pay his tribute to the sea, +Like mortal life to meet eternity. +Though with those streams he no resemblance hold, +Whose foam is amber, and their gravel gold, +His genuine and less guilty wealth t'explore, +Search not his bottom, but survey his shore, +O'er which he kindly spreads his spacious wing, +And hatches plenty for th'ensuing spring; 170 +Nor then destroys it with too fond a stay, +Like mothers which their infants overlay; +Nor with a sudden and impetuous wave, +Like profuse kings, resumes the wealth he gave. +No unexpected inundations spoil +The mower's hopes, nor mock the ploughman's toil: +But godlike his unwearied bounty flows; +First loves to do, then loves the good he does. +Nor are his blessings to his banks confined, +But free and common as the sea or wind; 180 +When he, to boast or to disperse his stores, +Full of the tributes of his grateful shores, +Visits the world, and in his flying towers +Brings home to us, and makes both Indies ours; +Finds wealth where 'tis, bestows it where it wants, +Cities in deserts, woods in cities plants; +So that to us no thing, no place is strange, +While his fair bosom is the world's exchange. +Oh, could I flow like thee, and make thy stream +My great example, as it is my theme! 190 +Though deep, yet clear; though gentle, yet not dull; +Strong without rage, without o'erflowing full. +Heaven her Eridanus no more shall boast, +Whose fame in thine, like lesser current, 's lost; +Thy nobler streams shall visit Jove's abodes, +To shine among the stars,[5] and bathe the gods. +Here Nature, whether more intent to please +Us or herself with strange varieties, +(For things of wonder give no less delight +To the wise maker's, than beholder's sight; 200 +Though these delights from sev'ral causes move; +For so our children, thus our friends, we love), +Wisely she knew the harmony of things, +As well as that of sounds, from discord springs. +Such was the discord, which did first disperse +Form, order, beauty, through the universe; +While dryness moisture, coldness heat resists, +All that we have, and that we are, subsists; +While the steep, horrid roughness of the wood +Strives with the gentle calmness of the flood, 210 +Such huge extremes when Nature doth unite, +Wonder from thence results, from thence delight. +The stream is so transparent, pure, and clear, +That had the self-enamour'd youth[6] gazed here, +So fatally deceived he had not been, +While he the bottom, not his face had seen. +But his proud head the airy mountain hides 217 +Among the clouds; his shoulders and his sides +A shady mantle clothes; his curled brows +Frown on the gentle stream, which calmly flows, +While winds and storms his lofty forehead beat: +The common fate of all that's high or great. +Low at his foot a spacious plain is placed, +Between the mountain and the stream embraced, +Which shade and shelter from the hill derives, +While the kind river wealth and beauty gives, +And in the mixture of all these appears +Variety, which all the rest endears. +This scene had some bold Greek or British bard +Beheld of old, what stories had we heard 230 +Of fairies, satyrs, and the nymphs their dames, +Their feasts, their revels, and their am'rous flames? +'Tis still the same, although their airy shape +All but a quick poetic sight escape. +There Faunus and Sylvanus keep their courts, +And thither all the horned host resorts +To graze the ranker mead; that noble herd +On whose sublime and shady fronts is rear'd +Nature's great masterpiece; to show how soon, +Great things are made, but sooner are undone. 240 +Here have I seen the King, when great affairs +Gave leave to slacken, and unbend his cares, +Attended to the chase by all the flower +Of youth whose hopes a nobler prey devour: +Pleasure with praise and danger they would buy, +And wish a foe that would not only fly. +The stag now conscious of his fatal growth, +At once indulgent to his fear and sloth, +To some dark covert his retreat had made, +Where nor man's eye, nor heaven's should invade 250 +His soft repose; when th'unexpected sound +Of dogs, and men, his wakeful ears does wound. +Roused with the noise, he scarce believes his ear, +Willing to think th'illusions of his fear +Had given this false alarm, but straight his view +Confirms that more than all he fears is true. +Betray'd in all his strengths, the wood beset; +All instruments, all arts of ruin met; +He calls to mind his strength and then his speed, +His winged heels, and then his armed head; 260 +With these t'avoid, with that his fate to meet: +But fear prevails, and bids him trust his feet. +So fast he flies, that his reviewing eye +Has lost the chasers, and his ear the cry; +Exulting, till he finds their nobler sense +Their disproportion'd speed doth recompense; +Then curses his conspiring feet, whose scent +Betrays that safety which their swiftness lent; +Then tries his friends; among the baser herd, +Where he so lately was obey'd and fear'd, 270 +His safety seeks; the herd, unkindly wise, +Or chases him from thence, or from him flies; +Like a declining statesman, left forlorn +To his friends' pity, and pursuers' scorn, +With shame remembers, while himself was one +Of the same herd, himself the same had done. +Thence to the coverts and the conscious groves, +The scenes of his past triumphs and his loves; +Sadly surveying where he ranged alone +Prince of the soil, and all the herd his own, 280 +And like a bold knight-errant did proclaim. +Combat to all, and bore away the dame, +And taught the woods to echo to the stream +His dreadful challenge, and his clashing beam; +Yet faintly now declines the fatal strife; +So much his love was dearer than his life. +Now every leaf, and every moving breath +Presents a foe, and every foe a death. +Wearied, forsaken, and pursued, at last +All safety in despair of safety placed, 290 +Courage he thence resumes, resolved to bear +All their assaults, since 'tis in vain to fear. +And now, too late, he wishes for the fight +That strength he wasted in ignoble flight: +But when he sees the eager chase renew'd, +Himself by dogs, the dogs by men pursued, +He straight revokes his bold resolve, and more +Repents his courage than his fear before; +Finds that uncertain ways unsafest are, +And doubt a greater mischief than despair. 300 +Then to the stream, when neither friends, nor force, +Nor speed, nor art, avail, he shapes his course; +Thinks not their rage so desperate to assay +An element more merciless than they. +But fearless they pursue, nor can the flood +Quench their dire thirst; alas! they thirst for blood. +So t'wards a ship the oar-finn'd galleys ply, +Which, wanting sea to ride, or wind to fly, +Stands but to fall revenged on those that dare +Tempt the last fury of extreme despair. 310 +So fares the stag, among th'enraged hounds, +Repels their force, and wounds returns for wounds; +And as a hero, whom his baser foes +In troops surround, now these assails, now those, +Though prodigal of life, disdains to die +By common hands; but if he can descry +Some nobler foe approach, to him he calls, +And begs his fate, and then contented falls. +So when the king a mortal shaft lets fly 319 +From his unerring hand, then glad to die, +Proud of the wound, to it resigns his blood, +And stains the crystal with a purple flood. +This a more innocent, and happy chase, +Than when of old, but in the selfsame place, +Fair Liberty pursued,[7] and meant a prey +To lawless power, here turn'd, and stood at bay; +When in that remedy all hope was placed +Which was, or should have been at least, the last. +Here was that charter seal'd, wherein the crown +All marks of arbitrary power lays down: 330 +Tyrant and slave, those names of hate and fear, +The happier style of king and subject bear: +Happy, when both to the same centre move, +When kings give liberty, and subjects love. +Therefore not long in force this charter stood; +Wanting that seal, it must be seal'd in blood. +The subjects arm'd, the more their princes gave, +Th' advantage only took the more to crave; +Till kings by giving, give themselves away, +And e'en that power, that should deny, betray. 340 +'Who gives constrain'd, but his own fear reviles, +Not thank'd, but scorn'd; nor are they gifts, but spoils.' +Thus kings, by grasping more than they could hold, +First made their subjects, by oppression, bold: +And popular sway, by forcing kings to give +More than was fit for subjects to receive, +Ran to the same extremes; and one excess +Made both, by striving to be greater, less. +When a calm river, raised with sudden rains, +Or snows dissolved, o'erflows th'adjoining plains, 350 +The husbandmen with high raised banks secure +Their greedy hopes, and this he can endure; +But if with bays and dams they strive to force +His channel to a new, or narrow course; +No longer then within his banks he dwells, +First to a torrent, then a deluge, swells; +Stronger and fiercer by restraint he roars, +And knows no bound, but makes his power his shores. + +[1] 'Such a Muse': Mr. Waller. +[2] 'Great Edward, and thy greater son': Edward III. and the Black + Prince. +[3] 'Thy Bellona': Queen Phillippa. +[4] 'Captive king': the kings of France and Scotland. +[5] 'The stars': the Forest. +[6] 'Self-enamour'd youth': Narcissus. +[7] 'Liberty pursued': Runimede, where Magna Charta was first sealed. + + + + + +THE DESTRUCTION OF TROY. + +AN ESSAY ON THE SECOND BOOK OF VIRGIL'S AENEIS, +WRITTEN IN THE YEAR 1636. + + +THE ARGUMENT. + +The first book speaks of Aeneas's voyage by sea, and how, being cast by +tempest upon the coast of Carthage, he was received by Queen Dido, who, +after the feast, desires him to make the relation of the destruction of +Troy; which is the argument of this book. + + +While all with silence and attention wait, +Thus speaks Aeneas from the bed of state:-- +Madam, when you command us to review +Our fate, you make our old wounds bleed anew, +And all those sorrows to my sense restore, +Whereof none saw so much, none suffer'd more. +Not the most cruel of our conqu'ring foes +So unconcern'dly can relate our woes, +As not to lend a tear; then how can I +Repress the horror of my thoughts, which fly 10 +The sad remembrance? Now th'expiring night +And the declining stars to rest invite; +Yet since 'tis your command, what you so well +Are pleased to hear, I cannot grieve to tell. +By fate repell'd and with repulses tired, +The Greeks, so many lives and years expired, +A fabric like a moving mountain frame, 17 +Pretending vows for their return; this Fame +Divulges; then within the beast's vast womb +The choice and flower of all their troops entomb; +In view the isle of Tenedos, once high, +In fame and wealth, while Troy remain'd, doth lie; +(Now but an unsecure and open bay) +Thither by stealth the Greeks their fleet convey. +We gave them gone,[1] and to Mycenae sail'd, +And Troy reviv'd, her mourning face unveil'd; +All through th'unguarded gates with joy resort +To see the slighted camp, the vacant port; +Here lay Ulysses, there Achilles; here +The battles join'd; the Grecian fleet rode there; 30 +But the vast pile th'amazed vulgar views, +Till they their reason in their wonder lose. +And first Thymoetes moves (urged by the power +Of fate, or fraud) to place it in the tower; +But Capys and the graver sort thought fit +The Greeks' suspected present to commit +To seas or flames, at least to search and bore +The sides, and what that space contains, t'explore. +Th' uncertain multitude with both engaged, +Divided stands, till from the tower, enraged 40 +Laocoon ran, whom all the crowd attends, +Crying, 'What desp'rate frenzy's this, O friends! +To think them gone? Judge rather their retreat +But a design; their gifts but a deceit; +For our destruction 'twas contrived no doubt, +Or from within by fraud, or from without +By force. Yet know ye not Ulysses' shifts? +Their swords less danger carry than their gifts.' +(This said) against the horse's side his spear 49 +He throws, which trembles with enclosed fear, +Whilst from the hollows of his womb proceed +Groans, not his own; and had not Fate decreed +Our ruin, we had fill'd with Grecian blood +The place; then Troy and Priam's throne had stood. +Meanwhile a fetter'd pris'ner to the king +With joyful shouts the Dardan shepherds bring, +Who to betray us did himself betray, +At once the taker, and at once the prey; +Firmly prepared, of one event secured, +Or of his death or his design assured. 60 +The Trojan youth about the captive flock, +To wonder, or to pity, or to mock. +Now hear the Grecian fraud, and from this one +Conjecture all the rest. +Disarm'd, disorder'd, casting round his eyes +On all the troops that guarded him, he cries, +'What land, what sea, for me what fate attends? +Caught by my foes, condemned by my friends, +Incensed Troy a wretched captive seeks +To sacrifice; a fugitive the Greeks.'-- 70 +To pity this complaint our former rage +Converts; we now inquire his parentage; +What of their counsels or affairs he knew +Then fearless he replies, 'Great king! to you +All truth I shall relate: nor first can I +Myself to be of Grecian birth deny; +And though my outward state misfortune hath +Depress'd thus low, it cannot reach my faith. +You may by chance have heard the famous name +Of Palamede, who from old Belus came, 80 +Whom, but for voting peace, the Greeks pursue, +Accus'd unjustly, then unjustly slew, +Yet mourn'd his death. My father was his friend, +And me to his commands did recommend, +While laws and councils did his throne support; +I but a youth, yet some esteem and port +We then did bear, till by Ulysses' craft +(Things known I speak) he was of life bereft: +Since, in dark sorrow I my days did spend, 90 +Till now, disdaining his unworthy end, +I could not silence my complaints, but vow'd +Revenge, if ever fate or chance allow'd +My wish'd return to Greece; from hence his hate, +From thence my crimes, and all my ills bear date: +Old guilt fresh malice gives; the people's ears +He fills with rumours, and their hearts with fears, +And then the prophet to his party drew. +But why do I those thankless truths pursue, +Or why defer your rage? on me, for all +The Greeks, let your revenging fury fall. 100 +Ulysses this, th'Atridae this desire +At any rate.'--We straight are set on fire +(Unpractised in such myst'ries) to inquire +The manner and the cause: which thus he told, +With gestures humble, as his tale was bold. +'Oft have the Greeks (the siege detesting) tired +With tedious war, a stolen retreat desired, +And would to Heaven they'd gone! but still dismay'd +By seas or skies, unwillingly they stay'd. +Chiefly when this stupendous pile was raised, 110 +Strange noises filled the air; we, all amazed, +Despatch Eurypylus t'inquire our fates, +Who thus the sentence of the gods relates: +"A virgin's slaughter did the storm appease, +When first t'wards Troy the Grecians took the seas; +Their safe retreat another Grecian's blood 116 +Must purchase." All at this confounded stood; +Each thinks himself the man, the fear on all +Of what the mischief but on one can fall. +Then Calchas (by Ulysses first inspired) +Was urged to name whom th'angry god required; +Yet was I warn'd (for many were as well +Inspired as he) and did my fate foretell. +Ten days the prophet in suspense remain'd, +Would no man's fate pronounce; at last constrain'd +By Ithacus, he solemnly design'd +Me for the sacrifice; the people join'd +In glad consent, and all their common fear +Determine in my fate. The day drew near, +The sacred rites prepared, my temples crown'd 130 +With holy wreaths; then I confess I found +The means to my escape; my bonds I brake, +Fled from my guards, and in a muddy lake +Amongst the sedges all the night lay hid, +Till they their sails had hoist (if so they did). +And now, alas! no hope remains for me +My home, my father, and my sons to see, +Whom they, enraged, will kill for my offence, +And punish, for my guilt, their innocence. +Those gods who know the truths I now relate, 140 +That faith which yet remains inviolate +By mortal men, by these I beg; redress +My causeless wrongs, and pity such distress.'-- +And now true pity in exchange he finds +For his false tears, his tongue his hands unbinds. +Then spake the king, 'Be ours, whoe'er thou art; +Forget the Greeks. But first the truth impart, +Why did they raise, or to what use intend +This pile? to a warlike or religious end?' +Skilful in fraud (his native art) his hands 150 +T'ward heaven he raised, deliver'd now from bands. +'Ye pure ethereal flames! ye powers adored +By mortal men! ye altars, and the sword +I 'scaped! ye sacred fillets that involved +My destined head! grant I may stand absolved +From all their laws and rights, renounce all name +Of faith or love, their secret thoughts proclaim; +Only, O Troy! preserve thy faith to me, +If what I shall relate preserveth thee. +From Pallas' favour all our hopes, and all 160 +Counsels and actions took original, +Till Diomed (for such attempts made fit +By dire conjunction with Ulysses' wit) +Assails the sacred tower, the guards they slay, +Defile with bloody hands, and thence convey +The fatal image; straight with our success +Our hopes fell back, whilst prodigies express +Her just disdain, her flaming eyes did throw +Flashes of lightning, from each part did flow +A briny sweat; thrice brandishing her spear, 170 +Her statue from the ground itself did rear; +Then, that we should our sacrilege restore, +And re-convey their gods from Argos' shore, +Calchas persuades, till then we urge in vain +The fate of Troy. To measure back the main +They all consent, but to return again, +When reinforced with aids of gods and men. +Thus Calchas; then instead of that, this pile +To Pallas was design'd; to reconcile +Th' offended power, and expiate our guilt; 180 +To this vast height and monstrous stature built, +Lest through your gates received, it might renew +Your vows to her, and her defence to you. +But if this sacred gift you disesteem, +Then cruel plagues (which Heaven divert on them!) +Shall fall on Priam's state: but if the horse +Your walls ascend, assisted by your force, +A league 'gainst Greece all Asia shall contract; +Our sons then suff'ring what their sires would act.' + +Thus by his fraud and our own faith o'ercome, 190 +A feigned tear destroys us, against whom +Tydides nor Achilles could prevail, +Nor ten years' conflict, nor a thousand sail. +This seconded by a most sad portent, +Which credit to the first imposture lent; +Laocoon, Neptune's priest, upon the day +Devoted to that god, a bull did slay; +When two prodigious serpents were descried, +Whose circling strokes the sea's smooth face divide; +Above the deep they raise their scaly crests, 200 +And stem the flood with their erected breasts, +Their winding tails advance and steer their course, +And 'gainst the shore the breaking billows force. +Now landing, from their brandish'd tongues there came +A dreadful hiss, and from their eyes a flame. +Amazed we fly, directly in a line +Laocoon they pursue, and first entwine +(Each preying upon one) his tender sons; +Then him, who armed to their rescue runs, +They seized, and with entangling folds embraced, 210 +His neck twice compassing, and twice his waist: +Their pois'nous knots he strives to break and tear, +While slime and blood his sacred wreaths besmear; +Then loudly roars, as when th'enraged bull +From th'altar flies, and from his wounded skull +Shakes the huge axe; the conqu'ring serpents fly +To cruel Pallas' altar, and there lie +Under her feet, within her shield's extent. 218 +We, in our fears, conclude this fate was sent +Justly on him, who struck the sacred oak +With his accursed lance. Then to invoke +The goddess, and let in the fatal horse, +We all consent. + +A spacious breach we make, and Troy's proud wall +Built by the gods, by our own hands doth fall; +Thus, all their help to their own ruin give, +Some draw with cords, and some the monster drive +With rolls and levers: thus our works it climbs +Big with our fate; the youth with songs and rhymes, +Some dance, some hale the rope; at last let down 230 +It enters with a thund'ring noise the town. +Oh Troy! the seat of gods, in war renown'd! +Three times it struck; as oft the clashing sound +Of arms was heard; yet blinded by the power +Of Fate, we place it in the sacred tower. +Cassandra then foretells th'event, but she +Finds no belief (such was the gods' decree). +The altars with fresh flowers we crown, and waste +In feasts that day, which was (alas!) our last. +Now by the revolution of the skies 240 +Night's sable shadows from the ocean rise, +Which heaven and earth, and the Greek frauds involved, +The city in secure repose dissolved, +When from the admiral's high poop appears +A light, by which the Argive squadron steers +Their silent course to Ilium's well-known shore, +When Sinon (saved by the gods' partial power) +Opens the horse, and through the unlock'd doors +To the free air the armed freight restores: +Ulysses, Stheneleus, Tisander slide 250 +Down by a rope, Machaon was their guide; +Atrides, Pyrrhus, Thoas, Athamas, +And Epeus who the fraud's contriver was. +The gates they seize; the guards, with sleep and wine +Oppress'd, surprise, and then their forces join. +'Twas then, when the first sweets of sleep repair +Our bodies spent with toil, our minds with care, +(The gods' best gift), when, bathed in tears and blood, +Before my face lamenting Hector stood, +His aspect such when, soil'd with bloody dust, 260 +Dragg'd by the cords which through his feet were thrust +By his insulting foe; oh, how transform'd, +How much unlike that Hector, who return'd +Clad in Achilles' spoils! when he, among +A thousand ships (like Jove) his lightning flung! +His horrid beard and knotted tresses stood +Stiff with his gore, and all his wounds ran blood: +Entranced I lay, then (weeping) said, 'The joy, +The hope and stay of thy declining Troy! +What region held thee? whence, so much desired, 270 +Art thou restored to us, consumed and tired +With toils and deaths? But what sad cause confounds +Thy once fair looks, or why appear those wounds?' +Regardless of my words, he no reply +Returns, but with a dreadful groan doth cry, +'Fly from the flame, O goddess-born! our walls +The Greeks possess, and Troy confounded falls +From all her glories; if it might have stood +By any power, by this right hand it should. +What man could do, by me for Troy was done. 280 +Take here her relics and her gods, to run +With them thy fate, with them new walls expect, +Which, toss'd on seas, thou shalt at last erect;'-- +Then brings old Vesta from her sacred choir, +Her holy wreaths, and her eternal fire. +Meanwhile the walls with doubtful cries resound +From far (for shady coverts did surround +My father's house); approaching still more near, +The clash of arms, and voice of men we hear: +Roused from my bed, I speedily ascend 290 +The houses' tops, and listening there attend. +As flames roll'd by the winds' conspiring force, +O'er full-ear'd corn, or torrent's raging course +Bears down th'opposing oaks, the fields destroys, +And mocks the ploughman's toil, th'unlook'd for noise +From neighb'ring hills th'amazed shepherd hears; +Such my surprise, and such their rage appears. +First fell thy house, Ucalegon! then thine +Deiphobus! Sigaean seas did shine +Bright with Troy's flames; the trumpets' dreadful sound +The louder groans of dying men confound. 301 +Give me my arms, I cried, resolved to throw +Myself 'mong any that opposed the foe: +Rage, anger, and despair at once suggest, +That of all deaths, to die in arms was best. +The first I met was Pantheus, Phoebus' priest, +Who, 'scaping with his gods and relics, fled, +And t'wards the shore his little grandchild led; +'Pantheus, what hope remains? what force, what place +Made good? But, sighing, he replies, 'Alas! 310 +Trojans we were, and mighty Ilium was; +But the last period and the fatal hour +Of Troy is come: our glory and our power +Incensed Jove transfers to Grecian hands; +The foe within the burning town commands; +And (like a smother'd fire) an unseen force +Breaks from the bowels of the fatal horse: +Insulting Sinon flings about the flame, +And thousands more than e'er from Argos came +Possess the gates, the passes, and the streets, 320 +And these the sword o'ertakes, and those it meets. +The guard nor fights nor flies; their fate so near +At once suspends their courage and their fear.'-- +Thus by the gods, and by Atrides' words +Inspir'd, I make my way through fire, through swords, +Where noises, tumults, outcries, and alarms +I heard; first Iphitus, renown'd for arms, +We meet, who knew us (for the moon did shine) +Then Ripheus, Hypanis, and Dymas join +Their force, and young Choroebus, Mygdon's son, 330 +Who, by the love of fair Cassandra won, +Arrived but lately in her father's aid; +Unhappy, whom the threats could not dissuade +Of his prophetic spouse; +Whom when I saw, yet daring to maintain +The fight, I said, 'Brave spirits! (but in vain) +Are you resolv'd to follow one who dares +Tempt all extremes? The state of our affairs +You see: the gods have left us, by whose aid +Our empire stood; nor can the flame be stay'd: 340 +Then let us fall amidst our foes; this one +Relief the vanquish'd have, to hope for none.' +Then reinforced, as in a stormy night +Wolves urged by their raging appetite +Forage for prey, which their neglected young +With greedy jaws expect, even so among +Foes, fire, and swords, t'assured death we pass; +Darkness our guide, Despair our leader was. +Who can relate that evening's woes and spoils, +Or can his tears proportion to our toils? 350 +The city, which so long had flourish'd, falls; +Death triumphs o'er the houses, temples, walls. +Nor only on the Trojans fell this doom, +Their hearts at last the vanquish'd reassume; +And now the victors fall: on all sides fears, +Groans, and pale Death in all her shapes appears! +Androgeus first with his whole troop was cast +Upon us, with civility misplaced +Thus greeting us, 'You lose, by your delay, +Your share, both of the honour and the prey; 360 +Others the spoils of burning Troy convey +Back to those ships which you but now forsake.' +We making no return, his sad mistake +Too late he finds; as when an unseen snake +A traveller's unwary foot hath press'd, +Who trembling starts, when the snake's azure crest, +Swoll'n with his rising anger, he espies, +So from our view surprised Androgeus flies. +But here an easy victory we meet: +Fear binds their hands and ignorance their feet. 370 +Whilst fortune our first enterprise did aid, +Encouraged with success, Choroebus said, +'O friends! we now by better fates are led, +And the fair path they lead us, let us tread. +First change your arms, and their distinctions bear; +The same, in foes, deceit and virtue are.' +Then of his arms Androgeus he divests, +His sword, his shield he takes, and plumed crests; +Then Ripheus, Dymas, and the rest, all glad +Of the occasion, in fresh spoils are clad. 380 +Thus mix'd with Greeks, as if their fortune still +Follow'd their swords, we fight, pursue, and kill. +Some re-ascend the horse, and he whose sides +Let forth the valiant, now the coward hides. +Some to their safer guard, their ships, retire; +But vain's that hope 'gainst which the gods conspire; +Behold the royal virgin, the divine +Cassandra, from Minerva's fatal shrine +Dragg'd by the hair, casting t'wards heaven, in vain, +Her eyes; for cords her tender hands did strain; 390 +Choroebus at the spectacle enraged, +Flies in amidst the foes: we thus engaged, +To second him, among the thickest ran; +Here first our ruin from our friends began, +Who from the temple's battlements a shower +Of darts and arrows on our heads did pour: +They us for Greeks, and now the Greeks (who knew +Cassandra's rescue) us for Trojans slew. +Then from all parts Ulysses, Ajax then, +And then th'Atridae rally all their men; 400 +As winds, that meet from sev'ral coasts, contest, +Their prisons being broke, the south and west, +And Eurus on his winged coursers borne, +Triumphing in their speed, the woods are torn, +And chasing Nereus with his trident throws +The billows from their bottom; then all those +Who in the dark our fury did escape, +Returning, know our borrow'd arms and shape, +And diff'ring dialect: then their numbers swell +And grow upon us; first Choroebus fell 410 +Before Minerva's altar, next did bleed +Just Ripheus, whom no Trojan did exceed +In virtue, yet the gods his fate decreed. +Then Hypanis and Dymas, wounded by +Their friends; nor thee, Pantheus! thy piety, +Nor consecrated mitre, from the same +Ill fate could save. My country's fun'ral flame +And Troy's cold ashes I attest, and call +To witness for myself, that in their fall +No foes, no death, nor danger I declin'd, 420 +Did, and deserv'd no less, my fate to find. +Now Iphitus with me, and Pelias +Slowly retire; the one retarded was +By feeble age, the other by a wound; +To court the cry directs us, where we found +Th' assault so hot, as if 'twere only there, +And all the rest secure from foes or fear: +The Greeks the gates approach'd, their targets cast +Over their heads; some scaling ladders placed +Against the walls, the rest the steps ascend, 430 +And with their shields on their left arms defend +Arrows and darts, and with their right hold fast +The battlement; on them the Trojans cast +Stones, rafters, pillars, beams; such arms as these, +Now hopeless, for their last defence they seize. +The gilded roofs, the marks of ancient state, +They tumble down; and now against the gate +Of th'inner court their growing force they bring; +Now was our last effort to save the king, +Relieve the fainting, and succeed the dead. 440 +A private gallery 'twixt th'apartments led, +Not to the foe yet known, or not observed, +(The way for Hector's hapless wife reserved, +When to the aged king her little son +She would present); through this we pass, and run +Up to the highest battlement, from whence +The Trojans threw their darts without offence, +A tower so high, it seem'd to reach the sky, +Stood on the roof, from whence we could descry, +All Ilium--both the camps, the Grecian fleet; 450 +This, where the beams upon the columns meet, +We loosen, which like thunder from the cloud +Breaks on their heads, as sudden and as loud. +But others still succeed: meantime, nor stones +Nor any kind of weapons cease. +Before the gate in gilded armour shone +Young Pyrrhus, like a snake, his skin new grown, +Who, fed on pois'nous herbs, all winter lay +Under the ground, and now reviews the day, +Fresh in his new apparel, proud and young, 460 +Rolls up his back, and brandishes his tongue, +And lifts his scaly breast against the sun; +With him his father's squire, Automedon, +And Peripas who drove his winged steeds, +Enter the court; whom all the youth succeeds +Of Scyros' isle, who naming firebrands flung +Up to the roof; Pyrrhus himself among +The foremost with an axe an entrance hews +Through beams of solid oak, then freely views +The chambers, galleries, and rooms of state, 470 +Where Priam and the ancient monarchs sate. +At the first gate an armed guard appears; +But th'inner court with horror, noise and tears, +Confus'dly fill'd, the women's shrieks and cries +The arched vaults re-echo to the skies; +Sad matrons wand'ring through the spacious rooms +Embrace and kiss the posts; then Pyrrhus comes; +Full of his father, neither men nor walls +His force sustain; the torn portcullis falls; +Then from the hinge their strokes the gates divorce, 480 +And where the way they cannot find, they force. +Not with such rage a swelling torrent flows +Above his banks, th'opposing dams o'erthrows, +Depopulates the fields, the cattle, sheep, +Shepherds and folds, the foaming surges sweep. +And now between two sad extremes I stood, +Here Pyrrhus and th'Atridae drunk with blood, +There th'hapless queen amongst an hundred dames, 488 +And Priam quenching from his wounds those flames +Which his own hands had on the altar laid; +Then they the secret cabinets invade, +Where stood the fifty nuptial beds, the hopes +Of that great race; the golden posts, whose tops +Old hostile spoils adorn'd, demolished lay, +Or to the foe, or to the fire a prey. +Now Priam's fate perhaps you may inquire: +Seeing his empire lost, his Troy on fire, +And his own palace by the Greeks possess'd, +Arms long disused his trembling limbs invest; +Thus on his foes he throws himself alone, 500 +Not for their fate, but to provoke his own: +There stood an altar open to the view +Of heaven, near which an aged laurel grew, +Whose shady arms the household gods embraced, +Before whose feet the queen herself had cast +With all her daughters, and the Trojan wives, +As doves whom an approaching tempest drives +And frights into one flock; but having spied +Old Priam clad in youthful arms, she cried, +'Alas! my wretched husband! what pretence 510 +To bear those arms? and in them what defence? +Such aid such times require not, when again +If Hector were alive, he lived in vain; +Or here we shall a sanctuary find, +Or as in life, we shall in death be join'd.' +Then, weeping, with kind force held and embraced, +And on the secret seat the king she placed. +Meanwhile Polites, one of Priam's sons, +Flying the rage of bloody Pyrrhus, runs +Through foes and swords, and ranges all the court 520 +And empty galleries, amazed and hurt; +Pyrrhus pursues him, now o'ertakes, now kills, +And his last blood in Priam's presence spills. +The king (though him so many deaths enclose) +Nor fear, nor grief, but indignation shows; +'The gods requite thee (if within the care +Of those above th'affairs of mortals are), +Whose fury on the son but lost had been, +Had not his parents' eyes his murder seen: +Not that Achilles (whom thou feign'st to be 530 +Thy father) so inhuman was to me; +He blush'd, when I the rights of arms implored; +To me my Hector, me to Troy, restored.' +This said, his feeble arm a jav'lin flung, +Which on the sounding shield, scarce ent'ring, rung. +Then Pyrrhus; 'Go a messenger to hell +Of my black deeds, and to my father tell +The acts of his degen'rate race.' So through +His son's warm blood the trembling king he drew +To th'altar; in his hair one hand he wreathes; 540 +His sword the other in his bosom sheaths. +Thus fell the king, who yet surviv'd the state, +With such a signal and peculiar fate, +Under so vast a ruin, not a grave, +Nor in such flames a fun'ral fire to have: +He whom such titles swell'd, such power made proud, +To whom the sceptres of all Asia bow'd, +On the cold earth lies th'unregarded king, +A headless carcase, and a nameless thing. + +[1] 'Gave them gone': i.e., gave them up for gone. + + + + +ON THE EARL OF STRAFFORD'S TRIAL AND DEATH. + + +Great Strafford! worthy of that name, though all +Of thee could be forgotten, but thy fall, +Crush'd by imaginary treason's weight, +Which too much merit did accumulate. +As chemists gold from brass by fire would draw, +Pretexts are into treason forged by law. +His wisdom such, at once it did appear +Three kingdoms' wonder, and three kingdoms' fear; +Whilst single he stood forth, and seem'd, although +Each had an army, as an equal foe. 10 +Such was his force of eloquence, to make +The hearers more concern'd than he that spake; +Each seem'd to act that part he came to see, +And none was more a looker-on than he; +So did he move our passions, some were known +To wish, for the defence, the crime their own. +Now private pity strove with public hate, +Reason with rage, and eloquence with fate: +Now they could him, if he could them, forgive; +He's not too guilty, but too wise, to live: 20 +Less seem those facts which treason's nickname bore, +Than such a fear'd ability for more. +They after death their fears of him express, +His innocence and their own guilt confess. +Their legislative frenzy they repent, +Enacting it should make no precedent. +This fate he could have 'scaped, but would not lose +Honour for life, but rather nobly chose +Death from their fears, than safety from his own, +That his last action all the rest might crown. 30 + + + + +ON MY LORD CROFT'S AND MY JOURNEY INTO POLAND, + +FROM WHENCE WE BROUGHT L10,000 FOR HIS MAJESTY, BY +THE DECIMATION OF HIS SCOTTISH SUBJECTS THERE. + + +1 Toll, toll, + Gentle bell, for the soul + Of the pure ones in Pole, + Which are damn'd in our scroll. + +2 Who having felt a touch + Of Cockram's greedy clutch, + Which though it was not much, + Yet their stubbornness was such, + +3 That when we did arrive, + 'Gainst the stream we did strive; + They would neither lead nor drive; + +4 Nor lend + An ear to a friend, + Nor an answer would send + To our letter so well penn'd; + +5 Nor assist our affairs + With their moneys nor their wares, + As their answer now declares, + But only with their prayers. + +6 Thus they did persist + Did and said what they list, + 'Till the Diet was dismiss'd; + But then our breech they kiss'd. + + 7 For when + It was moved there and then, + They should pay one in ten, + The Diet said, Amen. + + 8 And because they are both + To discover the troth, + They must give word and oath, + Though they will forfeit both. + + 9 Thus the constitution + Condemns them every one, + From the father to the son. + +10 But John + (Our friend) Mollesson + Thought us to have outgone + With a quaint invention. + +11 Like the prophets of yore, + He complain'd long before, + Of the mischiefs in store, + Ay, and thrice as much more; + +12 And with that wicked lie, + A letter they came by + From our King's majesty. + +13 But fate + Brought the letter too late, + 'Twas of too old a date + To relieve their damn'd state. + +14 The letter's to be seen, + With seal of wax so green, + At Dantzig, where 't has been + Turn'd into good Latin. + +15 But he that gave the hint, + This letter for to print, + Must also pay his stint. + +16 That trick, + Had it come in the nick, + Had touch'd us to the quick; + But the messenger fell sick. + +17 Had it later been wrote, + And sooner been brought, + They had got what they sought; + But now it serves for nought. + +18 On Sandys they ran aground, + And our return was crown'd + With full ten thousand pound. + + + + +ON MR THOMAS KILLIGREW'S RETURN FROM VENICE, AND MR WILLIAM MURREY'S +FROM SCOTLAND. + + +1 Our resident Tom, + From Venice is come, +And hath left the statesman behind him; + Talks at the same pitch, + Is as wise, is as rich; +And just where you left him, you find him. + +2 But who says he was not + A man of much plot, +May repent that false accusation; + Having plotted and penn'd + Six plays, to attend +The farce of his negotiation. + +3 Before you were told + How Satan[1] the old +Came here with a beard to his middle; + Though he changed face and name, + Old Will was the same, +At the noise of a can and a fiddle. + +4 These statesmen, you believe, + Send straight for the shrieve, +For he is one too, or would be; + But he drinks no wine, + Which is a shrewd sign +That all's not so well as it should be. + +5 These three, when they drink, + How little do they think +Of banishment, debts, or dying? + Not old with their years, + Nor cold with their fears; +But their angry stars still defying. + +6 Mirth makes them not mad, + Nor sobriety sad; +But of that they are seldom in danger; + At Paris, at Rome, + At the Hague, they're at home; +The good fellow is no where a stranger. + + +[1] 'Satan': Mr. W. Murrey. + + + + +TO SIR JOHN MENNIS, + +BEING INVITED FROM CALAIS TO BOULOGNE, TO EAT A PIG. + + +1 All on a weeping Monday, + With a fat vulgarian sloven, + Little admiral John + To Boulogne is gone, + Whom I think they call old Loven. + +2 Hadst thou not thy fill of carting,[1] + Will Aubrey, Count of Oxon, + When nose lay in breech, + And breech made a speech, + So often cried, A pox on? + +3 A knight by land and water + Esteem'd at such a high rate, + When 'tis told in Kent, + In a cart that he went, + They'll say now, Hang him, pirate. + +4 Thou might'st have ta'en example + From what thou read'st in story; + Being as worthy to sit + On an ambling tit + As thy predecessor Dory. + +5 But, oh, the roof of linen, + Intended for a shelter! + But the rain made an ass + Of tilt and canvas, + And the snow, which you know is a melter. + +6 But with thee to inveigle + That tender stripling Astcot, + Who was soak'd to the skin, + Through drugget so thin, + Having neither coat nor waistcoat. + +7 He being proudly mounted, + Clad in cloak of Plymouth, + Defied cart so base, + For thief without grace, + That goes to make a wry mouth. + +8 Nor did he like the omen, + For fear it might be his doom + One day for to sing, + With gullet in string, + A hymn of Robert Wisdom. + +9 But what was all this business? + For sure it was important; + For who rides i' th'wet + When affairs are not great, + The neighbours make but a sport on't. + +10 To a goodly fat sow's baby, + O John! thou hadst a malice; + The old driver of swine + That day sure was thine, + Or thou hadst not quitted Calais. + +[1] 'Fill of carting': we three riding in a cart from Dunkirk to Calais, + with a fat Dutch woman. + + + + +NATURA NATURATA. + + +1 What gives us that fantastic fit, + That all our judgment and our wit + To vulgar custom we submit? + +2 Treason, theft, murder, and all the rest + Of that foul legion we so detest, + Are in their proper names express'd. + +3 Why is it then thought sin or shame + Those necessary parts to name, + From whence we went, and whence we came? + +4 Nature, whate'er she wants, requires; + With love inflaming our desires, + Finds engines fit to quench those fires. + +5 Death she abhors; yet when men die + We are present; but no stander by + Looks on when we that loss supply. + +6 Forbidden wares sell twice as dear; + Even sack, prohibited last year, + A most abominable rate did bear. + +7 'Tis plain our eyes and ears are nice, + Only to raise, by that device, + Of those commodities the price. + +8 Thus reason's shadows us betray, + By tropes and figures led astray, + From Nature, both her guide and way. + + + + +SARPEDON'S SPEECH TO GLAUCUS, IN THE TWELFTH BOOK OF HOMER. + + + Thus to Glaucus spake +Divine Sarpedon, since he did not find +Others, as great in place, as great in mind:-- +Above the rest why is our pomp, our power? +Our flocks, our herds, and our possessions more? +Why all the tributes land and sea affords +Heap'd in great chargers, load our sumptuous boards? +Our cheerful guests carouse the sparkling tears +Of the rich grape, while music charms their ears? +Why, as we pass, do those on Xanthus' shore, 10 +As gods behold us, and as gods adore? +But that, as well in danger as degree, +We stand the first; that when our Licians see +Our brave examples, they admiring say, +Behold our gallant leaders! These are they +Deserve the greatness, and unenvied stand, +Since what they act transcends what they command. +Could the declining of this fate (O friend!) +Our date to immortality extend? +Or if death sought not them who seek not death, 20 +Would I advance? or should my vainer breath +With such a glorious folly thee inspire? +But since with Fortune Nature doth conspire, +Since age, disease, or some less noble end, +Though not less certain, does our days attend; +Since 'tis decreed, and to this period lead +A thousand ways, the noblest path we'll tread, +And bravely on, till they, or we, or all, +A common sacrifice to honour fall. + + + + +FRIENDSHIP AND SINGLE LIFE, AGAINST LOVE AND MARRIAGE. + + +1 Love! in what poison is thy dart + Dipp'd, when it makes a bleeding heart? + None know but they who feel the smart. + +2 It is not thou, but we are blind, + And our corporeal eyes (we find) + Dazzle the optics of our mind. + +3 Love to our citadel resorts; + Through those deceitful sally-ports, + Our sentinels betrays our forts. + +4 What subtle witchcraft man constrains, + To change his pleasure into pains, + And all his freedom into chains? + +5 May not a prison, or a grave, + Like wedlock, honour's title have + That word makes freeborn man a slave. + +6 How happy he that loves not, lives! + Him neither hope nor fear deceives, + To Fortune who no hostage gives. + +7 How unconcern'd in things to come! + If here uneasy, finds at Rome, + At Paris, or Madrid, his home. + +8 Secure from low and private ends, + His life, his zeal, his wealth attends + His prince, his country, and his friends. + +9 Danger and honour are his joy; + But a fond wife, or wanton boy, + May all those gen'rous thoughts destroy. + +10 Then he lays by the public care; + Thinks of providing for an heir; + Learns how to get, and how to spare. + +11 Nor fire, nor foe, nor fate, nor night, + The Trojan hero did affright, + Who bravely twice renew'd the fight. + +12 Though still his foes in number grew, + Thicker their darts and arrows flew, + Yet, left alone, no fear he knew. + +13 But Death in all her forms appears, + From every thing he sees and hears, + For whom he leads, and whom he bears.[1] + +14 Love, making all things else his foes, + Like a fierce torrent, overflows + Whatever doth his course oppose. + +15 This was the cause, the poets sung, + Thy mother from the sea was sprung; + But they were mad to make thee young. + +16 Her father, not her son, art thou: + From our desires our actions grow; + And from the cause th'effect must flow. + +17 Love is as old as place or time; + 'Twas he the fatal tree did climb, + Grandsire of father Adam's crime. + +18 Well may'st thou keep this world in awe; + Religion, wisdom, honour, law, + The tyrant in his triumph draw. + +19 'Tis he commands the powers above; + Phoebus resigns his darts, and Jove + His thunder to the god of Love. + +20 To him doth his feign'd mother yield; + Nor Mars (her champion's) flaming shield + Guards him, when Cupid takes the field. + +21 He clips Hope's wings, whose airy bliss + Much higher than fruition is, + But less than nothing if it miss. + +22 When matches Love alone projects, + The cause transcending the effects, + That wild fire's quench'd in cold neglects; + +23 Whilst those conjunctions prove the best, + Where Love's of blindness dispossess'd + By perspectives of interest. + +24 Though Sol'mon with a thousand wives, + To get a wise successor strives, + But one (and he a fool) survives. + +25 Old Rome of children took no care; + They with their friends their beds did share, + Secure t'adopt a hopeful heir. + +26 Love drowsy days and stormy nights + Makes; and breaks friendship, whose delights + Feed, but not glut our appetites. + +27 Well-chosen friendship, the most noble + Of virtues, all our joys makes double, + And into halves divides our trouble. + +28 But when th'unlucky knot we tie, + Care, av'rice, fear, and jealousy + Make friendship languish till it die. + +29 The wolf, the lion, and the bear, + When they their prey in pieces tear, + To quarrel with themselves forbear; + +30 Yet tim'rous deer, and harmless sheep, + When love into their veins doth creep, + That law of Nature cease to keep. + +31 Who, then, can blame the am'rous boy, + Who, the fair Helen to enjoy, + To quench his own, set fire on Troy? + +32 Such is the world's prepost'rous fate, + Amongst all creatures, mortal hate + Love (though immortal) doth create. + +33 But love may beasts excuse, for they + Their actions not by reason sway, + But their brute appetites obey. + +34 But man's that savage beast, whose mind + From reason to self-love declined, + Delights to prey upon his kind. + +[1] 'Whom he bears': his father and son. + + + + +ON MR ABRAHAM COWLEY, +HIS DEATH, AND BURIAL AMONGST THE ANCIENT POETS. + + +Old Chaucer, like the morning star, +To us discovers day from far; +His light those mists and clouds dissolved, +Which our dark nation long involved: +But he descending to the shades, +Darkness again the age invades. +Next (like Aurora) Spenser rose, 7 +Whose purple blush the day foreshows; +The other three with his own fires +Phoebus, the poet's god, inspires; +By Shakespeare's, Jonson's, Fletcher's lines, +Our stage's lustre Rome's outshines: +These poets near our princes sleep, +And in one grave their mansion keep. +They lived to see so many days, +Till time had blasted all their bays: +But cursed be the fatal hour, +That pluck'd the fairest, sweetest flower +That in the Muses' garden grew, +And amongst wither'd laurels threw! 20 +Time, which made them their fame outlive, +To Cowley scarce did ripeness give. +Old mother Wit, and Nature, gave +Shakespeare and Fletcher all they have; +In Spenser, and in Jonson, Art +Of slower Nature got the start; +But both in him so equal are, +None knows which bears the happiest share; +To him no author was unknown, +Yet what he wrote was all his own; 30 +He melted not the ancient gold, +Nor, with Ben Jonson, did make bold +To plunder all the Roman stores +Of poets, and of orators: +Horace's wit, and Virgil's state, +He did not steal, but emulate! +And when he would like them appear, +Their garb, but not their clothes, did wear; +He not from Rome alone, but Greece, +Like Jason, brought the golden fleece; 40 +To him that language (though to none +Of th'others) as his own was known. +On a stiff gale (as Flaccus[1] sings) +The Theban swan extends his wings, +When through th'ethereal clouds he flies; +To the same pitch our swan doth rise; +Old Pindar's flights by him are reach'd, +When on that gale his wings are stretch'd; +His fancy and his judgment such, +Each to the others seem'd too much, 50 +His severe judgment (giving law) +His modest fancy kept in awe: +As rigid husbands jealous are, +When they believe their wives too fair. +His English streams so pure did flow +As all that saw and tasted know; +But for his Latin vein, so clear, +Strong,[2] full, and high it doth appear, +That were immortal Virgil here, +Him, for his judge, he would not fear; 60 +Of that great portraiture so true +A copy pencil never drew. +My Muse her song had ended here, +But both their Genii straight appear, +Joy and amazement her did strike: +Two twins she never saw so like. +'Twas taught by wise Pythagoras, +One soul might through more bodies pass. +Seeing such transmigration there, +She thought it not a fable here. 70 +Such a resemblance of all parts, +Life, death, age, fortune, nature, arts; +Then lights her torch at theirs, to tell, +And show the world this parallel: +Fix'd and contemplative their looks, +Still turning over Nature's books; +Their works chaste, moral and divine, +Where profit and delight combine; +They, gilding dirt, in noble verse +Rustic philosophy rehearse. 80 +When heroes, gods, or god-like kings +They praise, on their exalted wings +To the celestial orbs they climb, +And with th'harmonious spheres keep time. +Nor did their actions fall behind +Their words, but with like candour sinned; +Each drew fair characters, yet none +Of these they feign'd, excels their own. +Both by two gen'rous princes loved, +Who knew, and judged what they approved; 90 +Yet having each the same desire, +Both from the busy throng retire. +Their bodies, to their minds resign'd, +Cared not to propagate their kind: +Yet though both fell before their hour, +Time on their offspring hath no power, +Nor fire nor fate their bays shall blast, +Nor death's dark veil their day o'ercast. + +[1] 'Flaccus Horace': his Pindarics. +[2] 'Strong': his last works. + + + + +A SPEECH AGAINST PEACE AT THE CLOSE COMMITTEE. + +To the tune of, '_I went from England_.' + + +1 But will you now to peace incline, + And languish in the main design, + And leave us in the lurch? + I would not monarchy destroy, + But as the only way t'enjoy + The ruin of the church. + +2 Is not the Bishops' bill denied, + And we still threaten'd to be tried? + You see the King embraces + Those counsels he approved before: + Nor doth he promise, which is more, + That we shall have their places. + +3 Did I for this bring in the Scot? + (For 'tis no secret now) the plot + Was Saye's and mine together; + Did I for this return again, + And spend a winter there in vain, + Once more t'invite them hither? + +4 Though more our money than our cause + Their brotherly assistance draws, + My labour was not lost. + At my return I brought you thence + Necessity, their strong pretence, + And these shall quit the cost. + +5 Did I for this my country bring + To help their knight against their King, + And raise the first sedition? + Though I the business did decline, + Yet I contrived the whole design, + And sent them their petition. + +6 So many nights spent in the City + In that invisible Committee, + The wheel that governs all; + From thence the change in church and state, + And all the mischief bears the date + From Haberdashers' Hall. + +7 Did we force Ireland to despair, + Upon the King to cast the war, + To make the world abhor him, + Because the rebels used his name? + Though we ourselves can do the same, + While both alike were for him. + +8 Then the same fire we kindled here + With what was given to quench it there, + And wisely lost that nation: + To do as crafty beggars use, + To maim themselves, thereby t'abuse + The simple man's compassion. + +9 Have I so often pass'd between + Windsor and Westminster, unseen, + And did myself divide: + To keep his Excellence in awe, + And give the Parliament the law? + For they knew none beside. + +10 Did I for this take pains to teach + Our zealous ignorants to preach, + And did their lungs inspire; + Gave them their texts, show'd them their parts, + And taught them all their little arts, + To fling abroad the fire? + +11 Sometimes to beg, sometimes to threaten, + And say the Cavaliers are beaten, + To stroke the people's ears; + Then straight, when victory grows cheap, + And will no more advance the heap, + To raise the price of fears. + +12 And now the books, and now the bells, + And now our act, the preacher tells, + To edify the people; + All our divinity is news, + And we have made of equal use + The pulpit and the steeple. + +13 And shall we kindle all this flame + Only to put it out again, + And must we now give o'er, + And only end where we begun? + In vain this mischief we have done, + If we can do no more. + +14 If men in peace can have their right, + Where's the necessity to fight, + That breaks both law and oath? + They'll say they fight not for the cause, + Nor to defend the King and laws, + But us against them both. + +15 Either the cause at first was ill, + Or, being good, it is so still; + And thence they will infer, + That either now or at the first + They were deceived; or, which is worst, + That we ourselves may err. + +16 But plague and famine will come in, + For they and we are near of kin, + And cannot go asunder: + But while the wicked starve, indeed + The saints have ready at their need + God's providence, and plunder. + +17 Princes we are if we prevail, + And gallant villains if we fail. + When to our fame 'tis told, + It will not be our least of praise, + Since a new state we could not raise, + To have destroy'd the old. + +18 Then let us stay and fight, and vote, + Till London is not worth a groat; + Oh! 'tis a patient beast! + When we have gall'd and tired the mule, + And can no longer have the rule, + We'll have the spoil at least. + + + + +TO THE FIVE MEMBERS OF THE HONOURABLE HOUSE OF COMMONS, +THE HUMBLE PETITION OF THE POETS. + + +After so many concurring petitions +From all ages and sexes, and all conditions, +We come in the rear to present our follies +To Pym, Stroud, Haslerig, Hampden, and Hollis. +Though set form of prayer be an abomination, +Set forms of petitions find great approbation; +Therefore, as others from th'bottom of their souls, +So we from the depth and bottom of our bowels, +According unto the bless'd form you have taught us, +We thank you first for the ills you have brought us: 10 +For the good we receive we thank him that gave it, +And you for the confidence only to crave it. +Next in course, we complain of the great violation +Of privilege (like the rest of our nation), +But 'tis none of yours of which we have spoken, +Which never had being until they were broken; +But ours is a privilege ancient and native, +Hangs not on an ord'nance, or power legislative. +And, first, 'tis to speak whatever we please, +Without fear of a prison or pursuivants' fees. 20 +Next, that we only may lie by authority; +But in that also you have got the priority. +Next, an old custom, our fathers did name it +Poetical license, and always did claim it. +By this we have power to change age into youth, +Turn nonsense to sense, and falsehood to truth; +In brief, to make good whatsoever is faulty; +This art some poet, or the devil, has taught ye: +And this our property you have invaded, +And a privilege of both Houses have made it. 30 +But that trust above all in poets reposed, +That kings by them only are made and deposed, +This though you cannot do, yet you are willing: +But when we undertake deposing or killing, +They're tyrants and monsters; and yet then the poet +Takes full revenge on the villains that do it: +And when we resume a sceptre or crown, +We are modest, and seek not to make it our own. +But is't not presumption to write verses to you, +Who make better poems by far of the two? 40 +For all those pretty knacks you compose, +Alas! what are they but poems in prose? +And between those and ours there's no difference, +But that yours want the rhyme, the wit, and the sense: +But for lying (the most noble part of a poet) +You have it abundantly, and yourselves know it; +And though you are modest and seem to abhor it, +'T has done you good service, and thank Hell for it: +Although the old maxim remains still in force, +That a sanctified cause must have a sanctified course, 50 +If poverty be a part of our trade, +So far the whole kingdom poets you have made, +Nay, even so far as undoing will do it, +You have made King Charles himself a poet: +But provoke not his Muse, for all the world knows, +Already you have had too much of his prose. + + + + +A WESTERN WONDER. + + +1 Do you not know, not a fortnight ago, + How they bragg'd of a Western Wonder? + When a hundred and ten slew five thousand men, + With the help of lightning and thunder? + +2 There Hopton was slain, again and again, + Or else my author did lie; + With a new thanksgiving, for the dead who are living, + To God, and his servant Chidleigh. + +3 But now on which side was the miracle tried? + I hope we at last are even; + For Sir Ralph and his knaves are risen from their graves, + To cudgel the clowns of Devon. + +4 And there Stamford came, for his honour was lame + Of the gout three months together; + But it proved, when they fought, but a running gout, + For his heels were lighter than ever. + +5 For now he outruns his arms and his guns, + And leaves all his money behind him; + But they follow after; unless he take water, + At Plymouth again they will find him. + +6 What Reading hath cost, and Stamford hath lost, + Goes deep in the sequestrations; + These wounds will not heal, with your new great seal, + Nor Jephson's declarations. + +7 Now, Peters and Case, in your prayer and grace, + Remember the new thanksgiving; + Isaac and his wife, now dig for your life, + Or shortly you'll dig for your living. + + + + +A SECOND WESTERN WONDER. + + +1 You heard of that wonder, of the lightning and thunder, + Which made the lie so much the louder: + Now list to another, that miracle's brother, + Which was done with a firkin of powder. + +2 Oh, what a damp it struck through the camp! + But as for honest Sir Ralph, + It blew him to the Vies without beard or eyes, + But at least three heads and a half. + +3 When out came the book, which the newsmonger took, + From the preaching lady's letter, + Where in the first place, stood the conqueror's face, + Which made it show much the better. + +4 But now, without lying, you may paint him flying, + At Bristol they say you may find him, + Great William the Con, so fast did he run, + That he left half his name behind him. + +5 And now came the post, save all that was lost, + But, alas! we are past deceiving + By a trick so stale, or else such a tale + Might amount to a new thanksgiving. + +6 This made Mr. Case, with a pitiful face, + In the pulpit to fall a weeping, + Though his mouth utter'd lies, truth fell from his eyes, + Which kept the Lord Mayor from sleeping. + +7 Now shut up shops, and spend your last drops, + For the laws, not your cause, you that loathe 'em, + Lest Essex should start, and play the second part + Of worshipful Sir John Hotham. + + + + +A SONG. + + +1 Morpheus! the humble god, that dwells + In cottages and smoky cells, + Hates gilded roofs and beds of down; + And though he fears no prince's frown, + Flies from the circle of a crown: + +2 Come, I say, thou powerful god, + And thy leaden charming rod, + Dipp'd in the Lethean lake, + O'er his wakeful temples shake, + Lest he should sleep, and never wake. + +3 Nature, (alas!) why art thou so + Obliged to thy greatest foe? + Sleep that is thy best repast, + Yet of death it bears a taste, + And both are the same thing at last. + + + + +ON MR JOHN FLETCHER'S WORKS. + + +So shall we joy, when all whom beasts and worms +Have turn'd to their own substances and forms: +Whom earth to earth, or fire hath changed to fire, +We shall behold more than at first entire; +As now we do to see all thine thy own +In this my Muse's resurrection, +Whose scatter'd parts from thy own race more wounds +Hath suffer'd than Actaeon from his hounds; +Which first their brains, and then their belly fed, +And from their excrements new poets bred. 10 +But now thy Muse enraged, from her urn, +Like ghosts of murder'd bodies, does return +T' accuse the murderers, to right the stage, +And undeceive the long-abused age, +Which casts thy praise on them, to whom thy wit +Gives not more gold than they give dross to it; +Who not content, like felons, to purloin, +Add treason to it, and debase the coin. +But whither am I stray'd? I need not raise +Trophies to thee from other men's dispraise; 20 +Nor is thy fame on lesser ruins built, +Nor needs thy juster title the foul guilt +Of eastern kings, who, to secure their reign, +Must have their brothers, sons, and kindred slain. +Then was wit's empire at the fatal height, +When labouring and sinking with its weight, +From thence a thousand lesser poets sprung, +Like petty princes from the fall of Rome; +When Jonson, Shakespeare, and thyself, did sit, +And sway'd in the triumvirate of wit. 30 +Yet what from Jonson's oil and sweat did flow, +Or what more easy Nature did bestow +On Shakespeare's gentler Muse, in thee full grown +Their graces both appear, yet so that none +Can say, Here nature ends, and art begins; +But mix'd like th'elements, and born like twins, +So interwove, so like, so much the same, +None this mere nature, that mere art can name: +'Twas this the ancients meant; nature and skill +Are the two tops of their Parnassus' hill. 40 + + + + +TO SIR RICHARD FANSHAW, +UPON HIS TRANSLATION OF 'PASTOR FIDO.' + + +Such is our pride, our folly, or our fate, +That few but such as cannot write, translate. +But what in them is want of art or voice, +In thee is either modesty or choice. +While this great piece, restored by thee, doth stand +Free from the blemish of an artless hand, +Secure of fame, thou justly dost esteem +Less honour to create than to redeem. +Nor ought a genius less than his that writ 9 +Attempt translation; for transplanted wit +All the defects of air and soil doth share, +And colder brains like colder climates are: +In vain they toil, since nothing can beget +A vital spirit but a vital heat. +That servile path thou nobly dost decline +Of tracing word by word, and line by line. +Those are the labour'd births of slavish brains, +Not the effect of poetry, but pains; +Cheap vulgar arts, whose narrowness affords +No flight for thoughts, but poorly sticks at words. 20 +A new and nobler way thou dost pursue +To make translations and translators too. +They but preserve the ashes, thou the flame, +True to his sense, but truer to his fame: +Fording his current, where thou find'st it low, +Let'st in thine own to make it rise and flow; +Wisely restoring whatsoever grace +It lost by change of times, or tongues, or place. +Nor fetter'd to his numbers and his times, +Betray'st his music to unhappy rhymes. 30 +Nor are the nerves of his compacted strength +Stretch'd and dissolved into unsinew'd length: +Yet, after all, (lest we should think it thine) +Thy spirit to his circle dost confine. +New names, new dressings, and the modern cast, +Some scenes, some persons alter'd, and outfaced +The world, it were thy work; for we have known +Some thank'd and praised for what was less their own. +That master's hand which to the life can trace +The airs, the lines, and features of the face, 40 +May with a free and bolder stroke express +A varied posture, or a flatt'ring dress; +He could have made those like, who made the rest, +But that he knew his own design was best. + + + + +TO THE HON. EDWARD HOWARD, +ON 'THE BRITISH PRINCES.' + + +What mighty gale hath raised a flight so strong, +So high above all vulgar eyes, so long? +One single rapture scarce itself confines +Within the limits of four thousand lines: +And yet I hope to see this noble heat +Continue till it makes the piece complete, +That to the latter age it may descend, +And to the end of time its beams extend. +When poesy joins profit with delight, +Her images should be most exquisite; 10 +Since man to that perfection cannot rise, +Of always virtuous, fortunate, and wise; +Therefore the patterns man should imitate +Above the life our masters should create. +Herein if we consult with Greece and Rome, +Greece (as in war) by Rome was overcome; +Though mighty raptures we in Homer find, +Yet, like himself, his characters were blind: +Virgil's sublimed eyes not only gazed, +But his sublimed thoughts to heaven were raised. 20 +Who reads the honours which he paid the gods +Would think he had beheld their bless'd abodes; +And that his hero might accomplish'd be, +From divine blood he draws his pedigree. +From that great judge your judgment takes its law, +And by the best original does draw +Bonduca's honour, with those heroes Time 27 +Had in oblivion wrapp'd, his saucy crime: +To them and to your nation you are just, +In raising up their glories from the dust; +And to Old England you that right have done, +To show no story nobler than her own. + + + + +AN OCCASIONAL IMITATION OF A MODERN AUTHOR UPON THE GAME OF CHESS. + + +A tablet stood of that abstersive tree, + Where Aethiop's swarthy bird did build her nest; +Inlaid it was with Libyan ivory, + Drawn from the jaws of Afric's prudent beast. +Two kings like Saul, much taller than the rest, + Their equal armies draw into the field; +Till one take th'other pris'ner they contest; + Courage and fortune must to conduct yield. +This game the Persian Magi did invent, + The force of Eastern wisdom to express; 10 +From thence to busy Europeans sent, + And styled by modern Lombards pensive Chess. +Yet some that fled from Troy to Rome report, + Penthesilea Priam did oblige; +Her Amazons his Trojans taught this sport, + To pass the tedious hours of ten years' siege. +There she presents herself, whilst kings and peers + Look gravely on whilst fierce Bellona fights; +Yet maiden modesty her motions steers, + Nor rudely skips o'er bishops' heads like knights. 20 + + + + +THE PASSION OF DIDO FOR AENEAS. + + +Having at large declared Jove's embassy, +Cyllenius[1] from Aeneas straight doth fly; +He, loth to disobey the god's command, +Nor willing to forsake this pleasant land, +Ashamed the kind Eliza to deceive, +But more afraid to take a solemn leave, +He many ways his lab'ring thoughts revolves; +But fear o'ercoming shame, at last resolves +(Instructed by the god of thieves)[1] to steal +Himself away, and his escape conceal. 10 +He calls his captains, bids them rig the fleet, +That at the port they privately should meet; +And some dissembled colour to project, +That Dido should not their design suspect; +But all in vain he did his plot disguise; +No art a watchful lover can surprise. +She the first motion finds; love though most sure, +Yet always to itself seems unsecure. +That wicked fame which their first love proclaim'd, +Foretells the end: the queen with rage inflamed, 20 +Thus greets him: 'Thou dissembler! would'st thou fly +Out of my arms by stealth perfidiously? +Could not the hand I plighted, nor the love, +Nor thee the fate of dying Dido move? +And in the depth of winter, in the night, +Dark as thy black designs to take thy flight, +To plough the raging seas to coasts unknown, +The kingdom thou pretend'st to not thine own! +Were Troy restored, thou shouldst mistrust a wind +False as thy vows, and as thy heart unkind. 30 +Fly'st thou from me? By these dear drops of brine +I thee adjure, by that right hand of thine, +By our espousals, by our marriage-bed, +If all my kindness ought have merited; +If ever I stood fair in thy esteem, +From ruin me and my lost house redeem. +Cannot my prayers a free acceptance find? +Nor my tears soften an obdurate mind? +My fame of chastity, by which the skies +I reached before, by thee extinguish'd dies. 40 +Into my borders now Iarbas falls, +And my revengeful brother scales my walls; +The wild Numidians will advantage take; +For thee both Tyre and Carthage me forsake. +Hadst thou before thy flight but left with me +A young Aeneas who, resembling thee, +Might in my sight have sported, I had then +Not wholly lost, nor quite deserted been; +By thee, no more my husband, but my guest, +Betray'd to mischiefs, of which death's the least.' 50 + +With fixed looks he stands, and in his breast +By Jove's command his struggling care suppress'd. +'Great queen! your favours and deserts so great, +Though numberless, I never shall forget; +No time, until myself I have forgot, +Out of my heart Eliza's name shall blot: +But my unwilling flight the gods enforce, +And that must justify our sad divorce. +Since I must you forsake, would Fate permit, +To my desires I might my fortune fit; 60 +Troy to her ancient splendour I would raise, +And where I first began, would end my days. +But since the Lycian lots, and Delphic god +Have destined Italy for our abode; +Since you proud Carthage (fled from Tyre) enjoy, +Why should not Latium us receive from Troy? +As for my son, my father's angry ghost +Tells me his hopes by my delays are cross'd, +And mighty Jove's ambassador appear'd +With the same message, whom I saw and heard; 70 +We both are grieved when you or I complain, +But much the more when all complaints are vain; +I call to witness all the gods, and thy +Beloved head, the coast of Italy +Against my will I seek.' + +Whilst thus he speaks, she rolls her sparkling eyes, +Surveys him round, and thus incensed replies; +'Thy mother was no goddess, nor thy stock +From Dardanus, but in some horrid rock, +Perfidious wretch! rough Caucasus thee bred, 80 +And with their milk Hyrcanian tigers fed. +Dissimulation I shall now forget, +And my reserves of rage in order set, +Could all my prayers and soft entreaties force +Sighs from his breast, or from his look remorse. +Where shall I first complain? can mighty Jove +Or Juno such impieties approve? +The just Astraea sure is fled to hell; +Nor more in earth, nor heaven itself will dwell. +Oh, Faith! him on my coasts by tempest cast, 90 +Receiving madly, on my throne I placed; +His men from famine, and his fleet from fire +I rescued: now the Lycian lots conspire +With Phoebus; now Jove's envoy through the air +Brings dismal tidings; as if such low care +Could reach their thoughts, or their repose disturb! +Thou art a false impostor, and a fourbe; +Go, go, pursue thy kingdom through the main; 98 +I hope, if Heaven her justice still retain, +Thou shalt be wreck'd, or cast upon some rock, +Where thou the name of Dido shalt invoke; +I'll follow thee in fun'ral flames; when dead +My ghost shall thee attend at board and bed, +And when the gods on thee their vengeance show, +That welcome news shall comfort me below.' + +This saying, from his hated sight she fled; +Conducted by her damsels to her bed; +Yet restless she arose, and looking out, +Beholds the fleet, and hears the seamen shout +When great Aeneas pass'd before the guard, 110 +To make a view how all things were prepared. +Ah, cruel Love! to what dost thou enforce +Poor mortal breasts! Again she hath recourse +To tears and prayers, again she feels the smart +Of a fresh wound from his tyrannic dart. +That she no ways nor means may leave untried, +Thus to her sister she herself applied: +'Dear sister, my resentment had not been +So moving, if this fate I had foreseen: +Therefore to me this last kind office do, 120 +Thou hast some int'rest in our scornful foe; +He trusts to thee the counsels of his mind, +Thou his soft hours, and free access canst find; +Tell him I sent not to the Ilian coast +My fleet to aid the Greeks; his father's ghost +I never did disturb; ask him to lend +To this, the last request that I shall send, +A gentle ear; I wish that he may find +A happy passage, and a prosp'rous wind. +The contract I don't plead, which he betray'd, 130 +Nor that his promised conquest be delay'd; +All that I ask is but a short reprieve, +Till I forget to love, and learn to grieve; +Some pause and respite only I require, +Till with my tears I shall have quench'd my fire. +If thy address can but obtain one day +Or two, my death that service shall repay.' +Thus she entreats; such messages with tears +Condoling Anne to him, and from him bears: +But him no prayers, no arguments can move; 140 +The Fates resist, his ears are stopp'd by Jove. +As when fierce northern blasts from th'Alps descend, +From his firm roots with struggling gusts to rend +An aged sturdy oak, the rattling sound +Grows loud, with leaves and scatter'd arms the ground +Is overlaid; yet he stands fixed; as high +As his proud head is raised towards the sky, +So low t'wards hell his roots descend. With prayers +And tears the hero thus assail'd, great cares +He smothers in his breast, yet keeps his post, 150 +All their addresses and their labour lost. +Then she deceives her sister with a smile: +'Anne, in the inner court erect a pile; +Thereon his arms and once-loved portrait lay, +Thither our fatal marriage-bed convey; +All cursed monuments of him with fire +We must abolish (so the gods require).' +She gives her credit for no worse effect +Than from Sichaeus' death she did suspect, +And her commands obeys. 160 +Aurora now had left Tithonus' bed, +And o'er the world her blushing rays did spread; +The Queen beheld, as soon as day appear'd, +The navy under sail, the haven clear'd; +Thrice with her hand her naked breast she knocks, +And from her forehead tears her golden locks; +'O Jove!' she cried, 'and shall he thus delude +Me and my realm? why is he not pursued? +Arm, arm,' she cried, 'and let our Tyrians board +With ours his fleet, and carry fire and sword; 170 +Leave nothing unattempted to destroy +That perjured race, then let us die with joy. +What if th'event of war uncertain were? +Nor death, nor danger, can the desp'rate fear. +But oh, too late! this thing I should have done, +When first I placed the traitor on my throne. +Behold the faith of him who saved from fire +His honour'd household gods, his aged sire +His pious shoulders from Troy's flames did bear; +Why did I not his carcase piecemeal tear, 180 +And cast it in the sea? why not destroy +All his companions, and beloved boy +Ascanius? and his tender limbs have dress'd, +And made the father on the son to feast? +Thou Sun! whose lustre all things here below +Surveys; and Juno! conscious of my woe; +Revengeful Furies! and Queen Hecate! +Receive and grant my prayer! If he the sea +Must needs escape, and reach th'Ausonian land, +If Jove decree it, Jove's decree must stand; 190 +When landed, may he be with arms oppress'd +By his rebelling people, be distress'd +By exile from his country, be divorced +From young Ascanius' sight, and be enforced +To implore foreign aids, and lose his friends +By violent and undeserved ends! +When to conditions of unequal peace +He shall submit, then may he not possess +Kingdom nor life, and find his funeral 199 +I' th'sands, when he before his day shall fall! +And ye, O Tyrians! with immortal hate +Pursue this race, this service dedicate +To my deplored ashes; let there be +'Twixt us and them no league nor amity. +May from my bones a new Achilles rise, +That shall infest the Trojan colonies +With fire, and sword, and famine, when at length +Time to our great attempts contributes strength; +Our seas, our shores, our armies theirs oppose, +And may our children be for ever foes!' 210 +A ghastly paleness death's approach portends, +Then trembling she the fatal pile ascends; +Viewing the Trojan relics, she unsheath'd +Aeneas' sword, not for that use bequeath'd: +Then on the guilty bed she gently lays +Herself, and softly thus lamenting prays; +'Dear relics! whilst that Gods and Fates give leave, +Free me from cares and my glad soul receive. +That date which Fortune gave, I now must end, +And to the shades a noble ghost descend. 220 +Sichaeus' blood, by his false brother spilt, +I have revenged, and a proud city built; +Happy, alas! too happy, I had lived, +Had not the Trojan on my coast arrived. +But shall I die without revenge? yet die +Thus, thus with joy to thy Sichaeus fly. +My conscious foe my funeral fire shall view +From sea, and may that omen him pursue!' +Her fainting hand let fall the sword besmear'd +With blood, and then the mortal wound appear'd; 230 +Through all the court the fright and clamours rise, +Which the whole city fills with fears and cries, +As loud as if her Carthage, or old Tyre +The foe had enter'd, and had set on fire. +Amazed Anne with speed ascends the stairs, +And in her arms her dying sister rears; +'Did you for this yourself and me beguile? +For such an end did I erect this pile? +Did you so much despise me, in this fate +Myself with you not to associate? 240 +Yourself and me, alas! this fatal wound, +The senate, and the people, doth confound. +I'll wash her wound with tears, and at her death, +My lips from hers shall draw her parting breath.' +Then with her vest the wound she wipes and dries; +Thrice with her arm the Queen attempts to rise, +But her strength failing, falls into a swound, +Life's last efforts yet striving with her wound; +Thrice on her bed she turns, with wand'ring sight +Seeking, she groans when she beholds the light. 250 +Then Juno, pitying her disastrous fate, +Sends Iris down, her pangs to mitigate. +(Since if we fall before th'appointed day, +Nature and death continue long their fray.) +Iris descends; 'This fatal lock' (says she) +'To Pluto I bequeath, and set thee free;' +Then clips her hair: cold numbness strait bereaves +Her corpse of sense, and th'air her soul receives. + +[1] 'Cyllenius'--'God of thieves': Mercury. + + + + +[The following two pieces are translated from the Latin of Mancini, +an Italian, contemporary with Petrarch.] + + +OF PRUDENCE. + + +Wisdom's first progress is to take a view +What's decent or indecent, false or true. +He's truly prudent who can separate +Honest from vile, and still adhere to that; +Their difference to measure, and to reach +Reason well rectified must Nature teach. +And these high scrutinies are subjects fit +For man's all-searching and inquiring wit; +That search of knowledge did from Adam flow; +Who wants it yet abhors his wants to show. 10 +Wisdom of what herself approves makes choice, +Nor is led captive by the common voice. +Clear-sighted Reason Wisdom's judgment leads, +And Sense, her vassal, in her footsteps treads. +That thou to Truth the perfect way may'st know, +To thee all her specific forms I'll show: +He that the way to honesty will learn, +First what's to be avoided must discern. +Thyself from flatt'ring self-conceit defend, +Nor what thou dost not know to know pretend. 20 +Some secrets deep in abstruse darkness lie: +To search them thou wilt need a piercing eye. +Not rashly therefore to such things assent, +Which, undeceived, thou after may'st repent; +Study and time in these must thee instruct, +And others' old experience may conduct. +Wisdom herself her ear doth often lend +To counsel offer'd by a faithful friend. +In equal scales two doubtful matters lay, +Thou may'st choose safely that which most doth weigh; +'Tis not secure this place or that to guard, 31 +If any other entrance stand unbarr'd: +He that escapes the serpent's teeth may fail, +If he himself secures not from his tail. +Who saith, who could such ill events expect? +With shame on his own counsels doth reflect. +Most in the world doth self-conceit deceive, 37 +Who just and good whate'er they act believe; +To their wills wedded, to their errors slaves, +No man (like them) they think himself behaves. +This stiff-neck'd pride nor art nor force can bend, +Nor high-flown hopes to Reason's lure descend. +Fathers sometimes their children's faults regard +With pleasure, and their crimes with gifts reward. +Ill painters, when they draw, and poets write, +Virgil and Titian (self admiring) slight; +Then all they do like gold and pearl appears, +And others' actions are but dirt to theirs. +They that so highly think themselves above +All other men, themselves can only love; 50 +Reason and virtue, all that man can boast +O'er other creatures, in those brutes are lost. +Observe (if thee this fatal error touch, +Thou to thyself contributing too much) +Those who are gen'rous, humble, just and wise, +Who not their gold, nor themselves idolise; +To form thyself by their example learn, +(For many eyes can more than one discern), +But yet beware of councils when too full, +Number makes long disputes, and graveness dull; 60 +Though their advice be good, their counsel wise, +Yet length still loses opportunities: +Debate destroys despatch, as fruits we see +Rot when they hang too long upon the tree; +In vain that husbandman his seed doth sow, +If he his crop not in due season mow. +A gen'ral sets his army in array +In vain, unless he fight and win the day. +'Tis virtuous action that must praise bring forth, +Without which, slow advice is little worth. 70 +Yet they who give good counsel praise deserve, +Though in the active part they cannot serve. +In action, learned counsellors their age, +Profession, or disease, forbids t'engage. +Nor to philosophers is praise denied, +Whose wise instructions after ages guide; +Yet vainly most their age in study spend; +No end of writing books, and to no end: +Beating their brains for strange and hidden things, +Whose knowledge, nor delight, nor profit brings; 80 +Themselves with doubts both day and night perplex, +Nor gentle reader please, or teach, but vex. +Books should to one of these four ends conduce-- +For wisdom, piety, delight, or use. +What need we gaze upon the spangled sky? +Or into matter's hidden causes pry? +To describe every city, stream, or hill +I' th'world, our fancy with vain arts to fill? +What is't to hear a sophister, that pleads, +Who by the ears the deceived audience leads? 90 +If we were wise, these things we should not mind, +But more delight in easy matters find. +Learn to live well, that thou may'st die so too; +To live and die is all we have to do: +The way (if no digression's made) is even, +And free access, if we but ask, is given. +Then seek to know those things which make us bless'd, +And having found them, lock them in thy breast; +Inquiring then the way, go on, nor slack, +But mend thy pace, nor think of going back. 100 +Some their whole age in these inquiries waste, +And die like fools before one step they've pass'd; +'Tis strange to know the way, and not t'advance; +That knowledge is far worse than ignorance. +The learned teach, but what they teach, not do, +And standing still themselves, make others go. +In vain on study time away we throw, +When we forbear to act the things we know. +The soldier that philosopher well blamed, +Who long and loudly in the schools declaim'd; 110 +'Tell' (said the soldier) 'venerable Sir, +Why all these words, this clamour, and this stir? +Why do disputes in wrangling spend the day, +Whilst one says only yea, and t'other nay?' +'Oh,' said the doctor, 'we for wisdom toil'd, +For which none toils too much.' The soldier smiled; +'You're gray and old, and to some pious use +This mass of treasure you should now reduce: +But you your store have hoarded in some bank, +For which th'infernal spirits shall you thank.' 120 +Let what thou learnest be by practice shown; +'Tis said that wisdom's children make her known. +What's good doth open to th'inquirer stand, +And itself offers to th'accepting hand; +All things by order and true measures done, +Wisdom will end, as well as she begun. +Let early care thy main concerns secure, +Things of less moment may delays endure: +Men do not for their servants first prepare, +And of their wives and children quit the care; 130 +Yet when we're sick, the doctor's fetch'd in haste, +Leaving our great concernment to the last. +When we are well, our hearts are only set +(Which way we care not) to be rich, or great; +What shall become of all that we have got? +We only know that us it follows not; +And what a trifle is a moment's breath, +Laid in the scale with everlasting death! +What's time when on eternity we think! 139 +A thousand ages in that sea must sink. +Time's nothing but a word; a million +Is full as far from infinite as one. +To whom thou much dost owe, thou much must pay, +Think on the debt against th'accounting day. +God, who to thee reason and knowledge lent, +Will ask how these two talents have been spent. +Let not low pleasures thy high reason blind, +He's mad, that seeks what no man e'er could find. +Why should we fondly please our sense, wherein +Beasts us exceed, nor feel the stings of sin? 150 +What thoughts man's reason better can become, +Than th'expectation of his welcome home? +Lords of the world have but for life their lease, +And that too (if the lessor please) must cease. +Death cancels nature's bonds, but for our deeds +(That debt first paid) a strict account succeeds; +If here not clear'd, no suretyship can bail +Condemned debtors from th'eternal jail; +Christ's blood's our balsam; if that cure us here, +Him, when our judge, we shall not find severe; 160 +His yoke is easy when by us embraced, +But loads and galls, if on our necks 'tis cast. +Be just in all thy actions, and if join'd +With those that are not, never change thy mind. +If ought obstruct thy course, yet stand not still, +But wind about, till you have topp'd the hill; +To the same end men sev'ral paths may tread, +As many doors into one temple lead; +And the same hand into a fist may close, +Which, instantly a palm expanded shows. 170 +Justice and faith never forsake the wise, +Yet may occasion put him in disguise; +Not turning like the wind; but if the state +Of things must change, he is not obstinate; +Things past and future with the present weighs, +Nor credulous of what vain rumour says. +Few things by wisdom are at first believed; +An easy ear deceives, and is deceived: +For many truths have often pass'd for lies, +And lies as often put on truth's disguise; 180 +As flattery too oft like friendship shows, +So them who speak plain truth we think our foes. +No quick reply to dubious questions make, +Suspense and caution still prevent mistake. +When any great design thou dost intend, +Think on the means, the manner, and the end: +All great concernments must delays endure; +Rashness and haste make all things unsecure; +And if uncertain thy pretensions be, +Stay till fit time wear out uncertainty; 190 +But if to unjust things thou dost pretend, +Ere they begin let thy pretensions end. +Let thy discourse be such that thou may'st give +Profit to others, or from them receive: +Instruct the ignorant; to those that live +Under thy care, good rules and patterns give; +Nor is't the least of virtues, to relieve +Those whom afflictions or oppressions grieve. +Commend but sparingly whom thou dost love: +But less condemn whom thou dost not approve; 200 +Thy friend, like flatt'ry, too much praise doth wrong, +And too sharp censure shows an evil tongue: +But let inviolate truth be always dear +To thee; e'en before friendship, truth prefer. +Than what thou mean'st to give, still promise less: +Hold fast thy power thy promise to increase. +Look forward what's to come, and back what's past, +Thy life will be with praise and prudence graced: 208 +What loss or gain may follow, thou may'st guess, +Thou then wilt be secure of the success; +Yet be not always on affairs intent, +But let thy thoughts be easy, and unbent: +When our minds' eyes are disengaged and free, +They clearer, farther, and distinctly see; +They quicken sloth, perplexities untie, +Make roughness smooth, and hardness mollify; +And though our hands from labour are released, +Yet our minds find (even when we sleep) no rest. +Search not to find how other men offend, +But by that glass thy own offences mend; 220 +Still seek to learn, yet care not much from whom, +(So it be learning) or from whence it come. +Of thy own actions, others' judgments learn; +Often by small, great matters we discern: +Youth what man's age is like to be doth show; +We may our ends by our beginnings know. +Let none direct thee what to do or say, +Till thee thy judgment of the matter sway; +Let not the pleasing many thee delight, +First judge if those whom thou dost please judge right. 230 +Search not to find what lies too deeply hid, +Nor to know things whose knowledge is forbid; +Nor climb on pyramids, which thy head turn round +Standing, and whence no safe descent is found. +In vain his nerves and faculties he strains +To rise, whose raising unsecure remains: +They whom desert and favour forwards thrust, +Are wise, when they their measures can adjust. +When well at ease, and happy, live content, +And then consider why that life was lent. 240 +When wealthy, show thy wisdom not to be +To wealth a servant, but make wealth serve thee. +Though all alone, yet nothing think or do, +Which nor a witness, nor a judge might know. +The highest hill is the most slipp'ry place, +And Fortune mocks us with a smiling face; +And her unsteady hand hath often placed +Men in high power, but seldom holds them fast; +Against her then her forces Prudence joins, +And to the golden mien herself confines. 250 +More in prosperity is reason toss'd, +Than ships in storms, their helms and anchors lost: +Before fair gales not all our sails we bear, +But with side winds into safe harbours steer; +More ships in calms, on a deceitful coast, +Or unseen rocks, than in high storms are lost. +Who casts out threats and frowns no man deceives, +Time for resistance and defence he gives; +But flatt'ry still in sugar'd words betrays, +And poison in high-tasted meats conveys; 260 +So Fortune's smiles unguarded man surprise, +But when she frowns, he arms, and her defies. + + + + +OF JUSTICE. + + +'Tis the first sanction Nature gave to man, +Each other to assist in what they can; +Just or unjust, this law for ever stands; +All things are good by law which she commands; +The first step, man t'wards Christ must justly live, +Who t'us himself, and all we have, did give; +In vain doth man the name of just expect, +If his devotions he to God neglect; +So must we rev'rence God, as first to know 9 +Justice from Him, not from ourselves, doth flow; +God those accepts who to mankind are friends, +Whose justice far as their own power extends; +In that they imitate the power Divine; +The sun alike on good and bad doth shine; +And he that doth no good, although no ill, +Does not the office of the just fulfil. +Virtue doth man to virtuous actions steer, +'Tis not enough that he should vice forbear; +We live not only for ourselves to care, +Whilst they that want it are denied their share. 20 +Wise Plato said, the world with men was stored, +That succour each to other might afford; +Nor are those succours to one sort confined, +But sev'ral parts to sev'ral men consign'd; +He that of his own stores no part can give, +May with his counsel or his hands relieve. +If Fortune make thee powerful, give defence +'Gainst fraud and force, to naked innocence: +And when our Justice doth her tributes pay, +Method and order must direct the way. 30 +First to our God we must with rev'rence bow; +The second honour to our prince we owe; +Next to wives, parents, children, fit respect, +And to our friends and kindred, we direct; +Then we must those who groan beneath the weight +Of age, disease, or want, commiserate. +'Mongst those whom honest lives can recommend, +Our Justice more compassion should extend; +To such, who thee in some distress did aid, +Thy debt of thanks with int'rest should be paid: 40 +As Hesiod sings, spread waters o'er thy field, +And a most just and glad increase 'twill yield. +But yet take heed, lest doing good to one, +Mischief and wrong be to another done; +Such moderation with thy bounty join, +That thou may'st nothing give that is not thine; +That liberality's but cast away, +Which makes us borrow what we cannot pay. +And no access to wealth let rapine bring; +Do nothing that's unjust to be a king. 50 +Justice must be from violence exempt, +But fraud's her only object of contempt. +Fraud in the fox, force in the lion dwells; +But Justice both from human hearts expels; +But he's the greatest monster (without doubt) +Who is a wolf within, a sheep without. +Nor only ill injurious actions are, +But evil words and slanders bear their share. +Truth Justice loves, and truth injustice fears, +Truth above all things a just man reveres. 60 +Though not by oaths we God to witness call, +He sees and hears, and still remembers all; +And yet our attestations we may wrest +Sometimes to make the truth more manifest; +If by a lie a man preserve his faith, +He pardon, leave, and absolution hath; +Or if I break my promise, which to thee +Would bring no good, but prejudice to me. +All things committed to thy trust conceal, +Nor what's forbid by any means reveal. 70 +Express thyself in plain, not doubtful words, +That ground for quarrels or disputes affords: +Unless thou find occasion, hold thy tongue; +Thyself or others careless talk may wrong. +When thou art called into public power, +And when a crowd of suitors throng thy door, +Be sure no great offenders 'scape their dooms; 77 +Small praise from lenity and remissness comes; +Crimes pardon'd, others to those crimes invite, +Whilst lookers-on severe examples fright. +When by a pardon'd murd'rer blood is spilt, +The judge that pardon'd hath the greatest guilt; +Who accuse rigour, make a gross mistake; +One criminal pardon'd may an hundred make; +When justice on offenders is not done, +Law, government, and commerce, are o'erthrown; +As besieged traitors with the foe conspire, +T' unlock the gates, and set the town on fire. +Yet lest the punishment th'offence exceed, +Justice with weight and measure must proceed: 90 +Yet when pronouncing sentence, seem not glad, +Such spectacles, though they are just, are sad; +Though what thou dost thou ought'st not to repent, +Yet human bowels cannot but relent: +Rather than all must suffer, some must die; +Yet Nature must condole their misery. +And yet, if many equal guilt involve, +Thou may'st not these condemn, and those absolve. +Justice, when equal scales she holds, is blind; +Nor cruelty, nor mercy, change her mind. 100 +When some escape for that which others die, +Mercy to those, to these is cruelty. +A fine and slender net the spider weaves, +Which little and light animals receives; +And if she catch a common bee or fly, +They with a piteous groan and murmur die; +But if a wasp or hornet she entrap, +They tear her cords like Samson, and escape; +So like a fly the poor offender dies, +But like the wasp, the rich escapes and flies. 110 +Do not, if one but lightly thee offend, +The punishment beyond the crime extend; +Or after warning the offence forget; +So God himself our failings doth remit. +Expect not more from servants than is just, +Reward them well, if they observe their trust; +Nor them with cruelty or pride invade, +Since God and Nature them our brothers made; +If his offence be great, let that suffice; +If light, forgive, for no man's always wise. 120 + + + + +THE PROGRESS OF LEARNING. + +PREFACE. + +My early mistress, now my ancient Muse, +That strong Circaean liquor cease t'infuse, +Wherewith thou didst intoxicate my youth, +Now stoop with disenchanted wings to truth; +As the dove's flight did guide Aeneas, now +May thine conduct me to the golden bough: +Tell (like a tall old oak) how learning shoots +To heaven her branches, and to hell her roots. + + +When God from earth form'd Adam in the East, +He his own image on the clay impress'd; +As subjects then the whole creation came, +And from their natures Adam them did name, +Not from experience (for the world was new), +He only from their cause their natures knew. +Had memory been lost with innocence, +We had not known the sentence nor th'offence; +'Twas his chief punishment to keep in store +The sad remembrance what he was before; 10 +And though th'offending part felt mortal pain, +Th' immortal part its knowledge did retain. +After the flood, arts to Chaldea fell; +The father of the faithful there did dwell, +Who both their parent and instructor was; +From thence did learning into Egypt pass: +Moses in all the Egyptian arts was skill'd, +When heavenly power that chosen vessel fill'd; +And we to his high inspiration owe, +That what was done before the flood we know. 20 +Prom Egypt, arts their progress made to Greece, +Wrapp'd in the fable of the golden fleece. +Musaeus first, then Orpheus, civilise +Mankind, and gave the world their deities; +To many gods they taught devotion, +Which were the distinct faculties of one; +Th' Eternal Cause, in their immortal lines +Was taught, and poets were the first divines: +God Moses first, then David, did inspire, +To compose anthems, for his heavenly choir; 30 +To th'one the style of friend he did impart, +On th'other stamp the likeness of his heart: +And Moses, in the old original, +Even God the poet of the world doth call. +Next those old Greeks Pythagoras did rise, +Then Socrates, whom th'oracle call'd Wise; +The divine Plato moral virtue shows, +Then his disciple Aristotle rose, +Who Nature's secrets to the world did teach, +Yet that great soul our novelists impeach; 40 +Too much manuring fill'd that field with weeds, +While sects, like locusts, did destroy the seeds; +The tree of knowledge, blasted by disputes, +Produces sapless leaves instead of fruits; +Proud Greece all nations else barbarians held, +Boasting her learning all the world excell'd. +Flying from thence[1] to Italy it came, 47 +And to the realm of Naples gave the name, +Till both their nation and their arts did come +A welcome trophy to triumphant Rome; +Then whereso'er her conqu'ring eagles fled, +Arts, learning, and civility were spread; +And as in this our microcosm, the heart +Heat, spirit, motion gives to every part, +So Rome's victorious influence did disperse +All her own virtues through the universe. +Here some digression I must make, t'accuse +Thee, my forgetful, and ingrateful Muse: +Couldst thou from Greece to Latium take thy flight, +And not to thy great ancestor do right? 60 +I can no more believe old Homer blind, +Than those who say the sun hath never shined; +The age wherein he lived was dark, but he +Could not want sight who taught the world to see: +They who Minerva from Jove's head derive, +Might make old Homer's skull the Muses' hive; +And from his brain that Helicon distil +Whose racy liquor did his offspring fill. +Nor old Anacreon, Hesiod, Theocrite, +Must we forget, nor Pindar's lofty flight. 70 +Old Homer's soul, at last from Greece retired, +In Italy the Mantuan swain inspired. +When great Augustus made war's tempest cease, +His halcyon days brought forth the arts of peace; +He still in his triumphant chariot shines, +By Horace drawn, and Virgil's mighty lines. +'Twas certainly mysterious that the name [2] +Of prophets and of poets is the same; +What the tragedian[3]--wrote, the late success 79 +Declares was inspiration, and not guess: +As dark a truth that author did unfold, +As oracles or prophets e'er foretold: +'At last the ocean shall unlock the bound +Of things, and a new world by Tiphys found, +Then ages far remote shall understand +The Isle of Thule is not the farthest land.' +Sure God, by these discov'ries, did design +That his clear light through all the world should shine, +But the obstruction from that discord springs +The prince of darkness made 'twixt Christian kings; 90 +That peaceful age with happiness to crown, +From heaven the Prince of Peace himself came down, +Then the true sun of knowledge first appear'd, +And the old dark mysterious clouds were clear'd, +The heavy cause of th'old accursed flood +Sunk in the sacred deluge of his blood. +His passion man from his first fall redeem'd; +Once more to paradise restored we seem'd; +Satan himself was bound, till th'iron chain +Our pride did break, and let him loose again. 100 +Still the old sting remain'd, and man began +To tempt the serpent, as he tempted man; +Then Hell sends forth her furies, Av'rice, Pride, +Fraud, Discord, Force, Hypocrisy their guide; +Though the foundation on a rock were laid, +The church was undermined, and then betray'd: +Though the Apostles these events foretold, +Yet even the shepherd did devour the fold: +The fisher to convert the world began, +The pride convincing of vain-glorious man; 110 +But soon his followers grew a sovereign lord, +And Peter's keys exchanged for Peter's sword, +Which still maintains for his adopted son +Vast patrimonies, though himself had none; +Wresting the text to the old giant's sense, +That heaven, once more, must suffer violence. +Then subtle doctors Scriptures made their prize; +Casuists, like cocks, struck out each others eyes; +Then dark distinctions reason's light disguised, +And into atoms truth anatomised. 120 +Then Mah'met's crescent, by our feuds increased, +Blasted the learn'd remainders of the East; +That project, when from Greece to Rome it came, +Made Mother Ignorance Devotion's dame; +Then he whom Lucifer's own pride did swell, +His faithful emissary, rose from hell +To possess Peter's chair, that Hildebrand +Whose foot on mitres, then on crowns, did stand; +And before that exalted idol all +(Whom we call gods on earth) did prostrate fall. 130 +Then darkness Europe's face did overspread +From lazy cells where superstition bred, +Which, link'd with blind obedience, so increased, +That the whole world some ages they oppress'd; +Till through these clouds the sun of knowledge brake, +And Europe from her lethargy did wake: +Then first our monarchs were acknowledged here, +That they their churches' nursing fathers were. +When Lucifer no longer could advance +His works on the false grounds of ignorance, 140 +New arts he tries, and new designs he lays, +Then his well-studied masterpiece he plays; +Loyola, Luther, Calvin he inspires, +And kindles with infernal flames their fires, +Sends their forerunner (conscious of th'event) +Printing, his most pernicious instrument! +Wild controversy then, which long had slept, +Into the press from ruin'd cloisters leap'd; +No longer by implicit faith we err, +Whilst every man's his own interpreter; 150 +No more conducted now by Aaron's rod, +Lay-elders from their ends create their god. +But seven wise men the ancient world did know, +We scarce know seven who think themselves not so. +When man learn'd undefiled religion, +We were commanded to be all as one; +Fiery disputes that union have calcined; +Almost as many minds as men we find, +And when that flame finds combustible earth, +Thence _fatuus_ fires, and meteors take their birth; 160 +Legions of sects and insects come in throngs; +To name them all would tire a hundred tongues. +So were the Centaurs of Ixion's race, +Who a bright cloud for Juno did embrace; +And such the monsters of Chimaera's kind, +Lions before, and dragons were behind. +Then from the clashes between popes and kings, +Debate, like sparks from flints' collision, springs: +As Jove's loud thunderbolts were forged by heat, +The like our Cyclops on their anvils beat; 170 +All the rich mines of learning ransack'd are, +To furnish ammunition for this war: +Uncharitable zeal our reason whets, +And double edges on our passion sets; +'Tis the most certain sign the world's accursed, +That the best things corrupted are the worst; +'Twas the corrupted light of knowledge hurl'd +Sin, death, and ignorance o'er all the world; +That sun like this (from which our sight we have), 179 +Gazed on too long, resumes the light he gave; +And when thick mists of doubts obscure his beams, +Our guide is error, and our visions, dreams; +'Twas no false heraldry when madness drew +Her pedigree from those who too much knew; +Who in deep mines for hidden knowledge toils, +Like guns o'ercharged, breaks, misses, or recoils; +When subtle wits have spun their thread too fine, +'Tis weak and fragile, like Arachne's line: +True piety, without cessation toss'd +By theories, the practic part is lost, 190 +And like a ball bandied 'twixt pride and wit, +Rather than yield, both sides the prize will quit: +Then whilst his foe each gladiator foils, +The atheist looking on enjoys the spoils. +Through seas of knowledge we our course advance, +Discov'ring still new worlds of ignorance; +And these discov'ries make us all confess +That sublunary science is but guess; +Matters of fact to man are only known, +And what seems more is mere opinion; 200 +The standers-by see clearly this event; +All parties say they're sure, yet all dissent; +With their new light our bold inspectors press, +Like Cham, to show their fathers' nakedness, +By whose example after ages may +Discover we more naked are than they; +All human wisdom to divine is folly; +This truth the wisest man made melancholy; +Hope, or belief, or guess, gives some relief, +But to be sure we are deceived brings grief: 210 +Who thinks his wife is virtuous, though not so, +Is pleased and patient till the truth he know. +Our God, when heaven and earth he did create, +Form'd man who should of both participate; +If our lives' motions theirs must imitate, +Our knowledge, like our blood, must circulate. +When like a bridegroom from the east, the sun +Sets forth, he thither, whence he came, doth run; +Into earth's spongy veins the ocean sinks, +Those rivers to replenish which he drinks; 220 +So learning, which from reason's fountain springs, +Back to the source some secret channel brings. +'Tis happy when our streams of knowledge flow +To fill their banks, but not to overthrow. + + Ut metit Autumnus fruges quas parturit Aestas, + Sic ortum Natura, dedit Deus his quoque finem. + + [1]'From thence': Gracia Major. +[2] 'The name': Vates. +[3] 'The tragedian': Seneca. + + + + +ELEGY ON THE DEATH OF HENRY LORD HASTINGS, 1650. + + +Reader, preserve thy peace: those busy eyes +Will weep at their own sad discoveries, +When every line they add improves thy loss, +Till, having view'd the whole, they seem a cross, +Such as derides thy passions' best relief, +And scorns the succours of thy easy grief; +Yet lest thy ignorance betray thy name +Of man and pious, read and mourn; the shame +Of an exemption from just sense doth show +Irrational, beyond excess of woe. 10 +Since reason, then, can privilege a tear, +Manhood, uncensured, pay that tribute here +Upon this noble urn. Here, here remains +Dust far more precious than in India's veins; +Within those cold embraces, ravish'd, lies +That which completes the age's tyrannies; +Who weak to such another ill appear, +For what destroys our hope secures our fear. +What sin, unexpiated in this land +Of groans, hath guided so severe a hand? 20 +The late great victim[1] that your altars knew, +Ye angry gods! might have excused this new +Oblation, and have spared one lofty light +Of virtue, to inform our steps aright; +By whose example good, condemned, we +Might have run on to kinder destiny. +But as the leader of the herd fell first +A sacrifice, to quench the raging thirst +Of inflamed vengeance for past crimes, so none +But this white, fatted youngling could atone, 30 +By his untimely fate, that impious smoke, +That sullied earth, and did Heaven's pity choke. +Let it suffice for us that we have lost +In him more than the widow'd world can boast +In any lump of her remaining clay. +Fair as the gray-eyed morn he was; the day, +Youthful, and climbing upwards still, imparts +No haste like that of his increasing parts. +Like the meridian beam, his virtue's light +Was seen as full of comfort, and as bright. 40 +Had his noon been as fixed, as clear--but he, +That only wanted immortality +To make him perfect, now submits to night, +In the black bosom of whose sable spite +He leaves a cloud of flesh behind, and flies, +Refined, all ray and glory, to the skies. +Great saint! shine there in an eternal sphere, 47 +And tell those powers to whom thou now draw'st near, +That by our trembling sense, in Hastings dead, +Their anger and our ugly faults are read, +The short lines of whose life did to our eyes +Their love and majesty epitomise; +Tell them, whose stern decrees impose our laws; +The feasted grave may close her hollow jaws. +Though Sin search Nature, to provide her here +A second entertainment half so dear, +She'll never meet a plenty like this hearse, +Till Time present her with the universe! + +[1] 'Great victim': Charles I. + + + + +OF OLD AGE.[1] + + +CATO, SCIPIO, LAELIUS. +SCIPIO TO CATO. + +Though all the actions of your life are crown'd +With wisdom, nothing makes them more renown'd, +Than that those years, which others think extreme, +Nor to yourself nor us uneasy seem; +Under which weight most, like th'old giants, groan. +When Aetna on their backs by Jove was thrown. + +CATO. What you urge, Scipio, from right reason flows: +All parts of age seem burthensome to those +Who virtue's and true wisdom's happiness +Cannot discern; but they who those possess, 10 +In what's impos'd by Nature find no grief, +Of which our age is (next our death) the chief, +Which though all equally desire t'obtain, +Yet when they have obtain'd it, they complain; +Such our inconstancies and follies are, +We say it steals upon us unaware: +Our want of reas'ning these false measures makes, +Youth runs to age, as childhood youth o'ertakes. +How much more grievous would our lives appear, +To reach th'eighth hundred, than the eightieth year? 20 +Of what in that long space of time hath pass'd, +To foolish age will no remembrance last. +My age's conduct when you seem t'admire +(Which that it may deserve, I much desire), +'Tis my first rule, on Nature, as my guide +Appointed by the gods, I have relied; +And Nature (which all acts of life designs), +Not, like ill poets, in the last declines: +But some one part must be the last of all, +Which like ripe fruits, must either rot or fall. 30 +And this from Nature must be gently borne, +Else her (as giants did the gods) we scorn. + +LAELIUS. But, Sir, 'tis Scipio's and my desire, +Since to long life we gladly would aspire, +That from your grave instructions we might hear, +How we, like you, may this great burthen bear. + +CAT. This I resolved before, but now shall do +With great delight, since 'tis required by you. + +LAEL. If to yourself it will not tedious prove, +Nothing in us a greater joy can move, 40 +That as old travellers the young instruct, +Your long, our short experience may conduct. + +CAT. 'Tis true (as the old proverb doth relate), +Equals with equals often congregate. +Two consuls[2] (who in years my equals were) +When senators, lamenting I did hear +That age from them had all their pleasures torn, 47 +And them their former suppliants now scorn: +They what is not to be accused accuse, +Not others, but themselves their age abuse; +Else this might me concern, and all my friends, +Whose cheerful age with honour youth attends, +Joy'd that from pleasure's slav'ry they are free, +And all respects due to their age they see. +In its true colours, this complaint appears +The ill effect of manners, not of years; +For on their life no grievous burthen lies, +Who are well natured, temperate, and wise; +But an inhuman and ill-temper'd mind, +Not any easy part in life can find. 60 + +LAEL. This I believe; yet others may dispute, +Their age (as yours) can never bear such fruit +Of honour, wealth, and power to make them sweet; +Not every one such happiness can meet. + +CAT. Some weight your argument, my Laelius, bears, +But not so much as at first sight appears. +This answer by Themistocles was made, +(When a Seriphian thus did him upbraid, +'You those great honours to your country owe, +Not to yourself')-'Had I at Seripho[3] 70 +Been born, such honour I had never seen, +Nor you, if an Athenian you had been;' +So age, clothed in indecent poverty, +To the most prudent cannot easy be; +But to a fool, the greater his estate, +The more uneasy is his age's weight. +Age's chief arts and arms are to grow wise, +Virtue to know, and known, to exercise; +All just returns to age then virtue makes, 79 +Nor her in her extremity forsakes; +The sweetest cordial we receive at last, +Is conscience of our virtuous actions past. +I (when a youth) with reverence did look +On Quintus Fabius, who Tarentum took; +Yet in his age such cheerfulness was seen, +As if his years and mine had equal been; +His gravity was mix'd with gentleness, +Nor had his age made his good humour less; +Then was he well in years (the same that he +Was Consul that of my nativity), 90 +(A stripling then), in his fourth consulate +On him at Capua I in arms did wait. +I five years after at Tarentum wan +The quaestorship, and then our love began; +And four years after, when I praetor was, +He pleaded, and the Cincian law[4] did pass. +With useful diligence he used t'engage, +Yet with the temperate arts of patient age +He breaks fierce Hannibal's insulting heats; +Of which exploit thus our friend Ennius treats: 100 +He by delay restored the commonwealth, +Nor preferr'd rumour before public health. + +[1] This piece is adapted from Cicero, 'De Seucctute.' +[2] 'Two consuls': Caius Salinator, Spurius Albinus. +[3] 'Seripho': an isle to which condemned men were banished. +[4] 'Cincian law': against bribes. + + +THE ARGUMENT. + +When I reflect on age, I find there are +Four causes, which its misery declare. +1. Because our body's strength it much impairs: +2. That it takes off our minds from great affairs: +3. Next, that our sense of pleasure it deprives: +4. Last, that approaching death attends our lives. + +Of all these sev'ral causes I'll discourse, 109 +And then of each, in order, weigh the force. + + + +THE FIRST PART. + + +The old from such affairs is only freed, +Which vig'rous youth and strength of body need; +But to more high affairs our age is lent, +Most properly when heats of youth are spent. +Did Fabius and your father Scipio +(Whose daughter my son married) nothing do? +Fabricii, Coruncani, Curii; +Whose courage, counsel, and authority, +The Roman commonwealth restored did boast, +Nor Appius, with whose strength his sight was lost, 120 +Who when the Senate was to peace inclined +With Pyrrhus, shew'd his reason was not blind, +Whither's our courage and our wisdom come +When Rome itself conspires the fate of Rome? +The rest with ancient gravity and skill +He spake (for his oration's extant still). +'Tis seventeen years since he had Consul been +The second time, and there were ten between; +Therefore their argument's of little force, +Who age from great employments would divorce. 130 +As in a ship some climb the shrouds, t'unfold +The sail, some sweep the deck, some pump the hold; +Whilst he that guides the helm employs his skill, +And gives the law to them by sitting still. +Great actions less from courage, strength, and speed, +Than from wise counsels and commands proceed; +Those arts age wants not, which to age belong, +Not heat but cold experience make us strong. +A Consul, Tribune, General, I have been, +All sorts of war I have pass'd through and seen; 140 +And now grown old, I seem t'abandon it, +Yet to the Senate I prescribe what's fit. +I every day 'gainst Carthage war proclaim, +(For Rome's destruction hath been long her aim) +Nor shall I cease till I her ruin see, +Which triumph may the gods design for thee; +That Scipio may revenge his grandsire's ghost, +Whose life at Cannae with great honour lost +Is on record; nor had he wearied been +With age, if he an hundred years had seen; 150 +He had not used excursions, spears, or darts, +But counsel, order, and such aged arts, +Which, if our ancestors had not retain'd, +The Senate's name our council had not gain'd. +The Spartans to their highest magistrate +The name of Elder did appropriate: +Therefore his fame for ever shall remain, +How gallantly Tarentum he did gain, +With vig'lant conduct; when that sharp reply +He gave to Salinator, I stood by, 160 +Who to the castle fled, the town being lost, +Yet he to Maximus did vainly boast, +'Twas by my means Tarentum you obtain'd;-- +'Tis true, had you not lost, I had not gain'd. +And as much honour on his gown did wait, +As on his arms, in his fifth consulate. +When his colleague Carvilius stepp'd aside, +The Tribune of the people would divide +To them the Gallic and the Picene field; +Against the Senate's will he will not yield; 170 +When, being angry, boldly he declares +Those things were acted under happy stars, +From which the commonwealth found good effects, +But otherwise they came from bad aspects. +Many great things of Fabius I could tell, +But his son's death did all the rest excel; +(His gallant son, though young, had Consul been) +His funeral oration I have seen +Often; and when on that I turn my eyes, +I all the old philosophers despise. 180 +Though he in all the people's eyes seem'd great, +Yet greater he appear'd in his retreat; +When feasting with his private friends at home, +Such counsel, such discourse from him did come, +Such science in his art of augury, +No Roman ever was more learn'd than he; +Knowledge of all things present and to come, +Rememb'ring all the wars of ancient Rome, +Nor only there, but all the world's beside; +Dying in extreme age, I prophesied 190 +That which is come to pass, and did discern +From his survivors I could nothing learn. +This long discourse was but to let you see +That his long life could not uneasy be. +Few like the Fabii or the Scipios are +Takers of cities, conquerors in war. +Yet others to like happy age arrive, +Who modest, quiet, and with virtue live: +Thus Plato writing his philosophy, +With honour after ninety years did die. 200 +Th' Athenian story writ at ninety-four +By Isocrates, who yet lived five years more; +His master Gorgias at the hundredth year +And seventh, not his studies did forbear: +And, ask'd why he no sooner left the stage? +Said he saw nothing to accuse old age. +None but the foolish, who their lives abuse, +Age of their own mistakes and crimes accuse. +All commonwealths (as by records is seen) 209 +As by age preserved, by youth destroy'd have been. +When the tragedian Naevius did demand, +Why did your commonwealth no longer stand? +'Twas answer'd, that their senators were new, +Foolish, and young, and such as nothing knew; +Nature to youth hot rashness doth dispense, +But with cold prudence age doth recompense. +But age, 'tis said, will memory decay, +So (if it be not exercised) it may; +Or, if by nature it be dull and slow. +Themistocles (when aged) the names did know 220 +Of all th'Athenians; and none grow so old, +Not to remember where they hid their gold. +From age such art of memory we learn, +To forget nothing which is our concern; +Their interest no priest nor sorcerer +Forgets, nor lawyer, nor philosopher; +No understanding memory can want, +Where wisdom studious industry doth plant. +Nor does it only in the active live, +But in the quiet and contemplative; 230 +When Sophocles (who plays when aged wrote) +Was by his sons before the judges brought, +Because he paid the Muses such respect, +His fortune, wife, and children to neglect; +Almost condemn'd, he moved the judges thus, +'Hear, but instead of me, my Oedipus.' +The judges hearing with applause, at th'end +Freed him, and said, 'No fool such lines had penn'd'. +What poets and what orators can I +Recount, what princes in philosophy, 240 +Whose constant studies with their age did strive? +Nor did they those, though those did them survive. +Old husbandmen I at Sabinum know, +Who for another year dig, plough, and sow. +For never any man was yet so old, +But hoped his life one winter more might hold. +Caecilius vainly said, 'Each day we spend +Discovers something, which must needs offend;' +But sometimes age may pleasant things behold, +And nothing that offends. He should have told 250 +This not to age, but youth, who oft'ner see +What not alone offends, but hurts, than we. +That, I in him, which he in age condemn'd, +That us it renders odious, and contemn'd. +He knew not virtue, if he thought this truth; +For youth delights in age, and age in youth. +What to the old can greater pleasure be, +Than hopeful and ingenious youth to see, +When they with rev'rence follow where we lead, +And in straight paths by our directions tread? 260 +And e'en my conversation here I see, +As well received by you, as yours by me. +'Tis disingenuous to accuse our age +Of idleness, who all our powers engage +In the same studies, the same course to hold; +Nor think our reason for new arts too old. +Solon the sage his progress never ceased, +But still his learning with his days increased; +And I with the same greediness did seek, +As water when I thirst, to swallow Greek; 270 +Which I did only learn, that I might know +Those great examples which I follow now: +And I have heard that Socrates the wise, +Learn'd on the lute for his last exercise. +Though many of the ancients did the same, +To improve knowledge was my only aim. + + + +THE SECOND PART. + + +Now int' our second grievance I must break, 277 +'That loss of strength makes understanding weak.' +I grieve no more my youthful strength to want, +Than, young, that of a bull, or elephant; +Then with that force content, which Nature gave, +Nor am I now displeased with what I have. +When the young wrestlers at their sport grew warm, +Old Milo wept, to see his naked arm; +And cried, 'twas dead. Trifler! thine heart and head, +And all that's in them (not thy arm) are dead; +This folly every looker on derides, +To glory only in thy arms and sides. +Our gallant ancestors let fall no tears, +Their strength decreasing by increasing years; 290 +But they advanced in wisdom every hour, +And made the commonwealth advance in power. +But orators may grieve, for in their sides, +Rather than heads, their faculty abides; +Yet I have heard old voices loud and clear, +And still my own sometimes the Senate hear. +When th'old with smooth and gentle voices plead, +They by the ear their well-pleased audience lead: +Which, if I had not strength enough to do, +I could (my Laelius, and my Scipio) 300 +What's to be done, or not be done, instruct, +And to the maxims of good life conduct. +Cneius and Publius Scipio, and (that man +Of men) your grandsire, the great African, +Were joyful when the flower of noble blood +Crowded their dwellings, and attending stood, +Like oracles their counsels to receive, +How in their progress they should act and live. +And they whose high examples youth obeys, 309 +Are not despised, though their strength decays; +And those decays (to speak the naked truth, +Though the defects of age) were crimes of youth. +Intemp'rate youth (by sad experience found) +Ends in an age imperfect and unsound. +Cyrus, though aged (if Xenophon say true), +Lucius Metellus (whom when young I knew), +Who held (after his second consulate) +Twenty-two years the high pontificate; +Neither of these in body, or in mind, +Before their death the least decay did find. 320 +I speak not of myself, though none deny +To age, to praise their youth the liberty: +Such an unwasted strength I cannot boast, +Yet now my years are eighty-four almost: +And though from what it was my strength is far, +Both in the first and second Punic war, +Nor at Thermopylae, under Glabrio, +Nor when I Consul into Spain did go; +But yet I feel no weakness, nor hath length +Of winters quite enervated my strength; 330 +And I, my guest, my client, or my friend, +Still in the courts of justice can defend: +Neither must I that proverb's truth allow, +'Who would be ancient, must be early so.' +I would be youthful still, and find no need +To appear old, till I was so indeed. +And yet you see my hours not idle are, +Though with your strength I cannot mine compare; +Yet this centurion's doth your's surmount, +Not therefore him the better man I count. 340 +Milo when ent'ring the Olympic game, +With a huge ox upon his shoulder came. +Would you the force of Milo's body find, +Rather than of Pythagoras's mind? +The force which Nature gives with care retain, +But when decay'd, 'tis folly to complain. +In age to wish for youth is full as vain, +As for a youth to turn a child again. +Simple and certain Nature's ways appear, +As she sets forth the seasons of the year. 350 +So in all parts of life we find her truth, +Weakness to childhood, rashness to our youth; +To elder years to be discreet and grave, +Then to old age maturity she gave. +(Scipio) you know, how Massinissa bears +His kingly port at more than ninety years; +When marching with his foot, he walks till night; +When with his horse, he never will alight; +Though cold or wet, his head is always bare; +So hot, so dry, his aged members are. 360 +You see how exercise and temperance +Even to old years a youthful strength advance. +Our law (because from age our strength retires) +No duty which belongs to strength requires. +But age doth many men so feeble make, +That they no great design can undertake; +Yet that to age not singly is applied, +But to all man's infirmities beside. +That Scipio, who adopted you, did fall +Into such pains, he had no health at all; 370 +Who else had equall'd Africanus' parts, +Exceeding him in all the lib'ral arts: +Why should those errors then imputed be +To age alone, from which our youth's not free? +Every disease of age we may prevent, +Like those of youth, by being diligent. +When sick, such mod'rate exercise we use, 377 +And diet, as our vital heat renews; +And if our body thence refreshment finds, +Then must we also exercise our minds. +If with continual oil we not supply +Our lamp, the light for want of it will die; +Though bodies may be tired with exercise, +No weariness the mind could e'er surprise. +Caecilius the comedian, when of age +He represents the follies on the stage, +They're credulous, forgetful, dissolute; +Neither those crimes to age he doth impute, +But to old men, to whom those crimes belong. +Lust, petulance, rashness, are in youth more strong 390 +Than ago, and yet young men those vices hate, +Who virtuous are, discreet, and temperate: +And so, what we call dotage seldom breeds +In bodies, but where nature sow'd the seeds. +There are five daughters, and four gallant sons, +In whom the blood of noble Appius runs, +With a most num'rous family beside, +Whom he alone, though old and blind, did guide. +Yet his clear-sighted mind was still intent, +And to his business like a bow stood bent: 400 +By children, servants, neighbours so esteem'd, +He not a master, but a monarch seem'd. +All his relations his admirers were, +His sons paid rev'rence, and his servants fear: +The order and the ancient discipline +Of Romans, did in all his actions shine. +Authority kept up old age secures, +Whose dignity as long as life endures. +Something of youth I in old age approve, +But more the marks of age in youth I love. 410 +Who this observes may in his body find +Decrepit age, but never in his mind. +The seven volumes of my own reports, +Wherein are all the pleadings of our courts; +All noble monuments of Greece are come +Unto my hands, with those of ancient Rome. +The pontificial, and the civil law, +I study still, and thence orations draw; +And to confirm my memory, at night, +What I hear, see, or do, by day, recite. 420 +These exercises for my thoughts I find; +These labours are the chariots of my mind. +To serve my friends, the Senate I frequent, +And there what I before digested vent; +Which only from my strength of mind proceeds, +Not any outward force of body needs; +Which, if I could not do, I should delight +On what I would to ruminate at night. +Who in such practices their minds engage, +Nor fear nor think of their approaching age, 430 +Which by degrees invisibly doth creep: +Nor do we seem to die, but fall asleep. + + + +THE THIRD PART. + + +Now must I draw my forces 'gainst that host +Of pleasures, which i' th'sea of age are lost. +O thou most high transcendant gift of age! +Youth from its folly thus to disengage. +And now receive from me that most divine +Oration of that noble Tarentine,[1] +Which at Tarentum I long since did hear, +When I attended the great Fabius there. 440 +Ye gods, was it man's nature, or his fate, +Betray'd him with sweet pleasure's poison'd bait? +Which he, with all designs of art or power, +Doth with unbridled appetite devour: +And as all poisons seek the noblest part, +Pleasure possesses first the head and heart; +Intoxicating both by them, she finds, +And burns the sacred temples of our minds. +Furies, which reason's divine chains had bound, +(That being broken) all the world confound. 450 +Lust, murder, treason, avarice, and hell +Itself broke loose, in reason's palace dwell: +Truth, honour, justice, temperance, are fled, +All her attendants into darkness led. +But why all this discourse? when pleasure's rage +Hath conquer'd reason, we must treat with age. +Age undermines, and will in time surprise +Her strongest forts, and cut off all supplies; +And join'd in league with strong necessity, +Pleasure must fly, or else by famine die. 460 +Flaminius, whom a consulship had graced, +(Then Censor) from the Senate I displaced; +When he in Gaul, a Consul, made a feast, +A beauteous courtesan did him request +To see the cutting off a pris'ner's head; +This crime I could not leave unpunished, +Since by a private villany he stain'd +That public honour which at Rome he gain'd. +Then to our age (when not to pleasures bent) +This seems an honour, not disparagement. 470 +We not all pleasures like the Stoics hate, +But love and seek those which are moderate. +(Though divine Plato thus of pleasures thought, +They us, with hooks and baits, like fishes caught.) +When Questor, to the gods in public halls +I was the first who set up festivals. +Not with high tastes our appetites did force, +But fill'd with conversation and discourse; +Which feasts, Convivial Meetings we did name: +Not like the ancient Greeks, who to their shame, 480 +Call'd it a Compotation, not a feast; +Declaring the worst part of it the best. +Those entertainments I did then frequent +Sometimes with youthful heat and merriment: +But now I thank my age, which gives me ease +From those excesses; yet myself I please +With cheerful talk to entertain my guests +(Discourses are to age continual feasts), +The love of meat and wine they recompense, +And cheer the mind, as much as those the sense. 490 +I'm not more pleased with gravity among +The aged, than to be youthful with the young; +Nor 'gainst all pleasures proclaim open war, +To which, in age, some nat'ral motions are. +And still at my Sabinum I delight +To treat my neighbours till the depth of night. +But we the sense of gust and pleasure want, +Which youth at full possesses; this I grant; +But age seeks not the things which youth requires, +And no man needs that which he not desires. 500 +When Sophocles was asked if he denied +Himself the use of pleasures, he replied, +'I humbly thank th'immortal gods, who me +From that fierce tyrant's insolence set free.' +But they whom pressing appetites constrain, +Grieve when they cannot their desires obtain. +Young men the use of pleasure understand, +As of an object new, and near at hand: +Though this stands more remote from age's sight, 509 +Yet they behold it not without delight: +As ancient soldiers, from their duties eased, +With sense of honour and rewards are pleased; +So from ambitious hopes and lusts released, +Delighted with itself our age doth rest. +No part of life's more happy, when with bread +Of ancient knowledge and new learning fed; +All youthful pleasures by degrees must cease, +But those of age even with our years increase. +We love not loaded boards and goblets crown'd, +But free from surfeits our repose is sound. 520 +When old Fabricius to the Samnites went +Ambassador, from Rome to Pyrrhus sent, +He heard a grave philosopher maintain, +That all the actions of our life were vain +Which with our sense of pleasure not conspired; +Fabricius the philosopher desired, +That he to Pyrrhus would that maxim teach, +And to the Samnites the same doctrine preach; +Then of their conquest he should doubt no more, +Whom their own pleasures overcame before. 530 +Now into rustic matters I must fall, +Which pleasure seems to me the chief of all. +Age no impediment to those can give, +Who wisely by the rules of Nature live. +Earth (though our mother) cheerfully obeys +All the commands her race upon her lays. +For whatsoever from our hand she takes, +Greater or less, a vast return she makes. +Nor am I only pleased with that resource, +But with her ways, her method, and her force. 540 +The seed her bosom (by the plough made fit) +Receives, where kindly she embraces it, +Which with her genuine warmth diffused and spread, +Sends forth betimes a green and tender head, +Then gives it motion, life, and nourishment, +Which from the root through nerves and veins are sent; +Straight in a hollow sheath upright it grows, +And, form receiving, doth itself disclose: +Drawn up in ranks and files, the bearded spikes +Guard it from birds as with a stand of pikes. 550 +When of the vine I speak, I seem inspired, +And with delight, as with her juice, am fired; +At Nature's godlike power I stand amazed, +Which such vast bodies hath from atoms raised. +The kernel of a grape, the fig's small grain, +Can clothe a mountain and o'ershade a plain: +But thou, (dear Vine!) forbid'st me to be long; +Although thy trunk be neither large nor strong, +Nor can thy head (not help'd) itself sublime, +Yet, like a serpent, a tall tree can climb; 560 +Whate'er thy many fingers can entwine, +Proves thy support, and all its strength is thine. +Though Nature gave not legs, it gave the hands, +By which thy prop the proudest cedar stands: +As thou hast hands, so hath thy offspring wings, +And to the highest part of mortals springs. +But lest thou should'st consume thy wealth in vain, +And starve thyself to feed a num'rous train, +Or like the bee (sweet as thy blood) design'd +To be destroy'd to propagate his kind, 570 +Lest thy redundant and superfluous juice, +Should fading leaves instead of fruits produce, +The pruner's hand, with letting blood, must quench +Thy heat, and thy exub'rant parts retrench: +Then from the joints of thy prolific stem +A swelling knot is raised (call'd a gem), +Whence, in short space, itself the cluster shows, 577 +And from earth's moisture mixed with sunbeams grows. +I' th'spring, like youth, it yields an acid taste, +But summer doth, like age, the sourness waste; +Then clothed with leaves, from heat and cold secure, +Like virgins, sweet and beauteous, when mature. +On fruits, flowers, herbs, and plants, I long could dwell, +At once to please my eye, my taste, my smell; +My walks of trees, all planted by my hand, +Like children of my own begetting stand. +To tell the sev'ral natures of each earth, +What fruits from each most properly take birth: +And with what arts to enrich every mould, +The dry to moisten, and to warm the cold. 590 +But when we graft, or buds inoculate, +Nature by art we nobly meliorate; +As Orpheus' music wildest beasts did tame, +From the sour crab the sweetest apple came: +The mother to the daughter goes to school, +The species changed, doth her law overrule; +Nature herself doth from herself depart, +(Strange transmigration!) by the power of art. +How little things give law to great! we see +The small bud captivates the greatest tree. 600 +Here even the power divine we imitate, +And seem not to beget, but to create. +Much was I pleased with fowls and beasts, the tame +For food and profit, and the wild for game. +Excuse me when this pleasant string I touch +(For age, of what delights it, speaks too much). +Who twice victorious Pyrrhus conquered, +The Sabines and the Samnites captive led, +Great Curius, his remaining days did spend, +And in this happy life his triumphs end. 610 +My farm stands near, and when I there retire, +His, and that age's temper I admire: +The Samnites' chief, as by his fire he sate, +With a vast sum of gold on him did wait; +'Return,' said he, 'your gold I nothing weigh, +When those who can command it me obey.' +This my assertion proves, he may be old, +And yet not sordid, who refuses gold. +In summer to sit still, or walk, I love, +Near a cool fountain, or a shady grove. 620 +What can in winter render more delight, +Than the high sun at noon, and fire at night? +While our old friends and neighbours feast and play, +And with their harmless mirth turn night to day, +Unpurchased plenty our full tables loads, +And part of what they lent, return t'our gods. +That honour and authority which dwells +With age, all pleasures of our youth excels. +Observe, that I that age have only praised +Whose pillars were on youth's foundations raised, 630 +And that (for which I great applause received) +As a true maxim hath been since believed. +That most unhappy age great pity needs, +Which to defend itself, new matter pleads; +Not from gray hairs authority doth flow, +Nor from bald heads, nor from a wrinkled brow, +But our past life, when virtuously spent, +Must to our age those happy fruits present. +Those things to age most honourable are, +Which easy, common, and but light appear, 640 +Salutes, consulting, compliment, resort, +Crowding attendance to and from the court: +And not on Rome alone this honour waits, +But on all civil and well-govern'd states. +Lysander, pleading in his city's praise, +From thence his strongest argument did raise, +That Sparta did with honour age support, +Paying them just respect at stage and court. +But at proud Athens youth did age outface, +Nor at the plays would rise, or give them place. 650 +When an Athenian stranger of great age +Arrived at Sparta, climbing up the stage, +To him the whole assembly rose, and ran +To place and ease this old and rev'rend man, +Who thus his thanks returns, 'Th' Athenians know +What's to be done, but what they know not do.' +Here our great Senate's orders I may quote, +The first in age is still the first in vote. +Nor honour, nor high birth, nor great command, +In competition with great years may stand. 660 +Why should our youth's short, transient, pleasures dare +With age's lasting honours to compare? +On the world's stage, when our applause grows high, +For acting here life's tragic-comedy, +The lookers-on will say we act not well, +Unless the last the former scenes excel: +But age is froward, uneasy, scrutinous, +Hard to be pleased, and parsimonious; +But all those errors from our manners rise, +Not from our years; yet some morosities 670 +We must expect, since jealousy belongs +To age, of scorn, and tender sense of wrongs: +Yet these are mollified, or not discern'd, +Where civil arts and manners have been learn'd: +So the Twins' humours,[2] in our Terence, are +Unlike-this harsh and rude, that smooth and fair. +Our nature here is not unlike our wine, 677 +Some sorts, when old, continue brisk and fine; +So age's gravity may seem severe, +But nothing harsh or bitter ought t'appear. +Of age's avarice I cannot see +What colour, ground, or reason there should be: +Is it not folly, when the way we ride +Is short, for a long voyage to provide? +To avarice some title youth may own, +To reap in autumn what the spring had sown; +And, with the providence of bees, or ants, +Prevent with summer's plenty winter's wants. +But age scarce sows till death stands by to reap, +And to a stranger's hand transfers the heap; 690 +Afraid to be so once, she's always poor, +And to avoid a mischief makes it sure. +Such madness, as for fear of death to die, +Is to be poor for fear of poverty. + +[1] 'Tarentine': Archytas, much praised by Horace. +[2] 'Twins' humours': in his comedy called 'Adelphi.' + + + +THE FOURTH PART. + + +Now against (that which terrifies our age) +The last, and greatest grievance, we engage; +To her grim Death appears in all her shapes, +The hungry grave for her due tribute gapes. +Fond, foolish man! with fear of death surprised, +Which either should be wish'd for, or despised; 700 +This, if our souls with bodies death destroy; +That, if our souls a second life enjoy. +What else is to be fear'd, when we shall gain +Eternal life, or have no sense of pain? +The youngest in the morning are not sure +That till the night their life they can secure; +Their age stands more exposed to accidents +Than ours, nor common care their fate prevents: +Death's force (with terror) against Nature strives, 709 +Nor one of many to ripe age arrives. +From this ill fate the world's disorders rise, +For if all men were old, they would be wise; +Years and experience our forefathers taught, +Them under laws and into cities brought: +Why only should the fear of death belong +To age, which is as common to the young? +Your hopeful brothers, and my son, to you +(Scipio) and me, this maxim makes too true: +But vig'rous youth may his gay thoughts erect +To many years, which age must not expect. 720 +But when he sees his airy hopes deceived, +With grief he says, Who this would have believed? +We happier are than they, who but desired +To possess that which we long since acquired. +What if our age to Nestor's could extend? +'Tis vain to think that lasting which must end; +And when 'tis past, not any part remains +Thereof, but the reward which virtue gains. +Days, months, and years, like running waters flow, +Nor what is past, nor what's to come, we know: 730 +Our date, how short soe'er, must us content. +When a good actor doth his part present, +In every act he our attention draws, +That at the last he may find just applause; +So (though but short) yet we must learn the art +Of virtue, on the stage to act our part; +True wisdom must our actions so direct, +Not only the last plaudit to expect; +Yet grieve no more, though long that part should last, +Than husbandmen, because the spring is past. 740 +The spring, like youth, fresh blossoms doth produce, +But autumn makes them ripe and fit for use: +So age a mature mellowness doth set +On the green promises of youthful heat. +All things which Nature did ordain, are good, +And so must be received and understood. +Age, like ripe apples, on earth's bosom drops, +While force our youth, like fruits untimely, crops; +The sparkling flame of our warm blood expires, +As when huge streams are pour'd on raging fires; 750 +But age unforced falls by her own consent, +As coals to ashes, when the spirit's spent; +Therefore to death I with such joy resort, +As seamen from a tempest to their port. +Yet to that port ourselves we must not force, +Before our pilot, Nature, steers our course. +Let us the causes of our fear condemn, +Then Death at his approach we shall contemn. +Though to our heat of youth our age seems cold, +Yet when resolved, it is more brave and bold. 760 +Thus Solon to Pisistratus replied, +Demanded, on what succour he relied, +When with so few he boldly did engage? +He said, he took his courage from his age. +Then death seems welcome, and our nature kind, +When, leaving us a perfect sense and mind, +She (like a workman in his science skill'd) +Pulls down with ease what her own hand did build. +That art which knew to join all parts in one, +Makes the least vi'lent separation. 770 +Yet though our ligaments betimes grow weak, +We must not force them till themselves they break. +Pythagoras bids us in our station stand, +Till God, our general, shall us disband. +Wise Solon dying, wish'd his friends might grieve, +That in their memories he still might live. +Yet wiser Ennius gave command to all 777 +His friends not to bewail his funeral; +Your tears for such a death in vain you spend, +Which straight in immortality shall end. +In death, if there be any sense of pain, +But a short space to age it will remain; +On which, without my fears, my wishes wait, +But tim'rous youth on this should meditate: +Who for light pleasure this advice rejects, +Finds little, when his thoughts he recollects. +Our death (though not its certain date) we know; +Nor whether it may be this night, or no: +How then can they contented live, who fear +A danger certain, and none knows how near? 790 +They err, who for the fear of death dispute, +Our gallant actions this mistake confute. +Thee, Brutus! Rome's first martyr I must name; +The Curtii bravely dived the gulf of flame: +Attilius sacrificed himself, to save +That faith, which to his barb'rous foes he gave; +With the two Scipios did thy uncle fall, +Rather than fly from conqu'ring Hannibal. +The great Marcellus (who restored Rome) +His greatest foes with honour did entomb. 800 +Their lives how many of our legions threw +Into the breach, whence no return they knew? +Must then the wise, the old, the learned fear, +What not the rude, the young, th'unlearn'd forbear? +Satiety from all things else doth come, +Then life must to itself grow wearisome. +Those trifles wherein children take delight, +Grow nauseous to the young man's appetite; +And from those gaieties our youth requires +To exercise their minds, our age retires. 810 +And when the last delights of age shall die, +Life in itself will find satiety. +Now you (my friends) my sense of death shall hear, +Which I can well describe, for he stands near. +Your father, Laelius, and your's, Scipio, +My friends, and men of honour, I did know; +As certainly as we must die, they live +That life which justly may that name receive: +Till from these prisons of our flesh released, +Our souls with heavy burdens lie oppress'd; 820 +Which part of man from heaven falling down, +Earth, in her low abyss, doth hide and drown, +A place so dark to the celestial light, +And pure, eternal fire's quite opposite, +The gods through human bodies did disperse +An heavenly soul, to guide this universe, +That man, when he of heavenly bodies saw +The order, might from thence a pattern draw: +Nor this to me did my own dictates show, +But to the old philosophers I owe. 830 +I heard Pythagoras, and those who came +With him, and from our country took their name; +Who never doubted but the beams divine, +Derived from gods, in mortal breasts did shine. +Nor from my knowledge did the ancients hide +What Socrates declared the hour he died; +He th'immortality of souls proclaim'd, +(Whom th'oracle of men the wisest named) +Why should we doubt of that whereof our sense +Finds demonstration from experience? 840 +Our minds are here, and there, below, above; +Nothing that's mortal can so swiftly move. +Our thoughts to future things their flight direct, +And in an instant all that's past collect. +Reason, remembrance, wit, inventive art, +No nature, but immortal, can impart. +Man's soul in a perpetual motion flows, +And to no outward cause that motion owes; +And therefore that no end can overtake, +Because our minds cannot themselves forsake. 850 +And since the matter of our soul is pure +And simple, which no mixture can endure +Of parts, which not among themselves agree; +Therefore it never can divided be. +And Nature shows (without philosophy) +What cannot be divided, cannot die. +We even in early infancy discern +Knowledge is born with babes before they learn; +Ere they can speak they find so many ways +To serve their turn, and see more arts than days: 860 +Before their thoughts they plainly can express, +The words and things they know are numberless; +Which Nature only and no art could find, +But what she taught before, she call'd to mind, +These to his sons (as Xenophon records) +Of the great Cyrus were the dying words; +'Fear not when I depart (nor therefore mourn) +I shall be nowhere, or to nothing turn: +That soul which gave me life, was seen by none, +Yet by the actions it design'd was known; 870 +And though its flight no mortal eye shall see, +Yet know, for ever it the same shall be. +That soul which can immortal glory give +To her own virtues must for ever live. +Can you believe that man's all-knowing mind +Can to a mortal body be confined? +Though a foul foolish prison her immure +On earth, she (when escaped) is wise and pure. +Man's body when dissolved is but the same 879 +With beasts, and must return from whence it came; +But whence into our bodies reason flows, +None sees it when it comes, or where it goes. +Nothing resembles death so much as sleep, +Yet then our minds themselves from slumber keep. +When from their fleshly bondage they are free, +Then what divine and future things they see! +Which makes it most apparent whence they are, +And what they shall hereafter be, declare.' +This noble speech the dying Cyrus made. +Me (Scipio) shall no argument persuade, 890 +Thy grandsire, and his brother, to whom Fame +Gave, from two conquer'd parts o' th'world, their name, +Nor thy great grandsire, nor thy father Paul, +Who fell at Cannae against Hannibal; +Nor I (for 'tis permitted to the aged +To boast their actions) had so oft engaged +In battles, and in pleadings, had we thought, +That only fame our virtuous actions bought; +'Twere better in soft pleasure and repose +Ingloriously our peaceful eyes to close: 900 +Some high assurance hath possess'd my mind, +After my death an happier life to find. +Unless our souls from the immortals came, +What end have we to seek immortal fame? +All virtuous spirits some such hope attends, +Therefore the wise his days with pleasure ends. +The foolish and short-sighted die with fear, +That they go nowhere, or they know not where. +The wise and virtuous soul, with clearer eyes, +Before she parts, some happy port descries. 910 +My friends, your fathers I shall surely see: +Nor only those I loved, or who loved me, +But such as before ours did end their days, +Of whom we hear, and read, and write their praise. +This I believe; for were I on my way, +None should persuade me to return, or stay: +Should some god tell me that I should be born +And cry again, his offer I would scorn; +Asham'd, when I have ended well my race, +To be led back to my first starting-place. 920 +And since with life we are more grieved than joy'd, +We should be either satisfied or cloy'd: +Yet will I not my length of days deplore, +As many wise and learn'd have done before: +Nor can I think such life in vain is lent, +Which for our country and our friends is spent. +Hence from an inn, not from my home, I pass, +Since Nature meant us here no dwelling-place. +Happy when I, from this turmoil set free, +That peaceful and divine assembly see: 930 +Not only those I named I there shall greet, +But my own gallant virtuous Cato meet. +Nor did I weep, when I to ashes turn'd +His belov'd body, who should mine have burn'd. +I in my thoughts beheld his soul ascend, +Where his fixed hopes our interview attend: +Then cease to wonder that I feel no grief +From age, which is of my delights the chief. +My hopes if this assurance hath deceived +(That I man's soul immortal have believed), 940 +And if I err, no power shall dispossess +My thoughts of that expected happiness, +Though some minute philosophers pretend, +That with our days our pains and pleasures end. +If it be so, I hold the safer side, +For none of them my error shall deride. +And if hereafter no rewards appear, 947 +Yet virtue hath itself rewarded here. +If those who this opinion have despised, +And their whole life to pleasure sacrificed, +Should feel their error, they, when undeceived, +Too late will wish that me they had believed. +If souls no immortality obtain, +'Tis fit our bodies should be out of pain. +The same uneasiness which everything +Gives to our nature, life must also bring. +Good acts, if long, seem tedious; so is age, +Acting too long upon this earth her stage.-- +Thus much for age, to which when you arrive, +That joy to you, which it gives me, 'twill give. 960 + + + + +END OF DENHAM'S POETICAL WORKS. + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Poetical Works of Edmund Waller and +Sir John Denham, by Edmund Waller; John Denham + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK POETICAL WORKS *** + +***** This file should be named 12322.txt or 12322.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/2/3/2/12322/ + +Produced by Jonathan Ingram, Carol David and PG Distributed Proofreaders + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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