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K. Chambers</h1> +<p> </p> +<pre> +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 <a href = "http://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre> +<p>Title: Poems of Henry Vaughan, Silurist, Volume II</p> +<p>Author: Henry Vaughan</p> +<p>Editor: E. K. Chambers</p> +<p>Release Date: March 20, 2009 [eBook #28375]</p> +<p>Language: English</p> +<p>Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p> +<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK POEMS OF HENRY VAUGHAN, SILURIST, VOLUME II***</p> +<p> </p> +<h3 class="pg">E-text prepared by Susan Skinner, David Cortesi,<br /> + and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team<br /> + (http://www.pgdp.net)</h3> +<p> </p> +<div id="transcriber_note" +style="border:solid 2px silver; margin:2em auto 2em auto; padding:1em;"> +<h2><a name="TRANSCRIBERS_NOTE" id="TRANSCRIBERS_NOTE"></a> +TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE +</h2> + +<p>In the poem "In Etesiam Lachrymantem" (<a href='#Page_221'>page 221</a>) +the initial letter of +the final line is missing in all extant editions; it is shown as a +question-mark. +In the Boethius translation Lib. IV. Metrum VI. (<a href='#Page_230'>page 230</a>), +the letter +'y' has been added to make line 9/10 read "...though +the<span style='background-color:silver;'>y</span>/See other +stars..." although it is missing in all available editions.</p> + +<p>At many points a period, comma or hyphen seems to be omitted in the +original. Obvious typographical errors have been corrected. Where missing +punctuation is not clearly an error, or the omission is harmless to the +sense, the text remains as in the original.</p> + +<p>Footnotes in the original appear on the page where they are referenced +and are numbered from 1 on each page. In this edition footnotes are numbered +consecutively throughout the book and are grouped following each chapter +or poem to which they refer. A footnote reference is linked to the +note text, and the text links back to the reference.</p> +</div> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> + +<div id="title_page_1" style="padding:4em; border:2px solid silver;"> +<h1 style="line-height:2.5em;"> +<span style="font-size:150%;letter-spacing:4px;">POEMS</span><br /> + +<span style="font-size:100%;">OF</span><br /> + +<span style="font-size:200%; letter-spacing:3px;">HENRY VAUGHAN</span><br /> + +<span style="font-size:150%;letter-spacing:2px;">SILURIST.</span><br /> + +<span style="font-size:125%;font-variant:small-caps;">Vol. II.</span> +</h1> +</div> + +<div id="title_page_2" style="padding:2em; border:2px solid silver;"> +<div style="margin-bottom:1.5em;"> +<img src="images/museslibrary.png" +height="32" +alt="The Muses' Library" +title="The Muses' Library" /> +</div> +<h1 style="line-height:3em;"> +<span style="font-size:150%;letter-spacing:4px;">POEMS</span><br /> + +<span style="font-size:75%;">OF</span><br /> + +<span style="font-size:200%; letter-spacing:3px;">HENRY VAUGHAN</span><br /> + +<span style="font-size:150%;letter-spacing:2px;">SILURIST</span> +</h1> +<h3 style="line-height:1.5em;"> +<span style="font-size:75%;">EDITED BY</span><br /> +<span style="font-size:125%;letter-spacing:3px;">E. K. CHAMBERS</span> +</h3> +<h3 style="line-height:1.5em;"> +<span style="font-size:75%;">WITH AN INTRODUCTION BY</span><br /> +<span style="font-size:125%;letter-spacing:3px;">CANON BEECHING</span> +</h3> +<h2 style="font-size:90%;margin-top:2em;"> + VOL. II. +</h2> + +<p class='center'> +<img src="images/routledge.png" alt="routledge logo" title="routledge logo" /> +</p> + +<h3 style='line-height:1.5em;'> + LONDON:<br /> + + GEORGE ROUTLEDGE & SONS, LIMITED<br /> +<span style="font-size:75%;">NEW YORK: E. P. DUTTON & CO.</span> +</h3> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_vii" id="Page_vii">[vii]</a></span></p> + + +<table border="0" summary="Contents" > +<tr> + <td style='width:2em;'> </td> + <td> </td> + <td style='width:4em;text-align:right;'><span class='smcap'>page</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan='2'><span class='smcap'>Table Of Contents</span></td> + <td style='text-align:right;'><a href='#Page_vii'>vii</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan='2'><span class='smcap'>Biographical Note</span></td> + <td style='text-align:right;'><a href='#Page_xv'>xv</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan='2'>Bibliography Of Henry Vaughan's Works</td> + <td style='text-align:right;'><a href='#Page_lvii'>lvii</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan='2'>Poems With The Tenth Satire Of Juvenal Englished, 1646</td> + <td style='text-align:right;'><a href='#Page_1'>1</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td> </td><td>To all Ingenious Lovers of Poesy</td> + <td style='text-align:right;'><a href='#Page_3'>3</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td> </td><td>To my Ingenuous Friend, R. W.</td> + <td style='text-align:right;'><a href='#Page_5'>5</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td> </td><td>Les Amours</td> + <td style='text-align:right;'><a href='#Page_8'>8</a></td></tr> +<tr> + <td> </td><td>To Amoret. The Sigh</td> + <td style='text-align:right;'><a href='#Page_10'>10</a></td></tr> +<tr> + <td> </td><td>To his Friend, Being in Love</td> + <td style='text-align:right;'><a href='#Page_11'>11</a></td></tr> +<tr> + <td> </td><td>Song: [Amyntas go, thou art Undone]</td> + <td style='text-align:right;'><a href='#Page_12'>12</a></td></tr> +<tr> + <td> </td><td>To Amoret. Walking in a Starry Evening</td> + <td style='text-align:right;'><a href='#Page_13'>13</a></td></tr> +<tr> + <td> </td><td>To Amoret Gone from him</td> + <td style='text-align:right;'><a href='#Page_15'>15</a></td></tr> +<tr> + <td> </td><td>A Song to Amoret</td> + <td style='text-align:right;'><a href='#Page_16'>16</a></td></tr> +<tr> + <td> </td><td>An Elegy</td> + <td style='text-align:right;'><a href='#Page_17'>17</a></td></tr> +<tr> + <td> </td><td>A Rhapsodis</td> + <td style='text-align:right;'><a href='#Page_18'>18</a></td></tr> +<tr> + <td> </td><td> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_viii" id="Page_viii">[viii]</a></span> +To Amoret, of the Difference 'twixt him and other Lovers, >and what True Love is</td> + <td style='text-align:right;'><a href='#Page_21'>21</a></td></tr> +<tr> + <td> </td><td>To Amoret Weeping</td> + <td style='text-align:right;'><a href='#Page_23'>23</a></td></tr> +<tr> + <td> </td><td>Upon the Priory Grove, his Usual Retirement</td> + <td style='text-align:right;'><a href='#Page_26'>26</a></td></tr> +<tr> + <td> </td><td>Juvenal's Tenth Satire Translated</td> + <td style='text-align:right;'><a href='#Page_28'>28</a></td></tr> + +<tr> + <td colspan='2'><span class='smcap'>Olor Iscanus</span>. 1651.</td> + <td style='text-align:right;'> </td></tr> + +<tr> + <td> </td><td> Ad Posteros</td> + <td style='text-align:right;'><a href='#Page_51'>51</a></td></tr> + +<tr> + <td> </td><td>To the ... Lord Kildare Digby</td> + <td style='text-align:right;'><a href='#Page_53'>53</a></td></tr> + +<tr> + <td> </td><td> The Publisher to the Reader</td> + <td style='text-align:right;'><a href='#Page_55'>55</a></td></tr> + +<tr> + <td> </td><td> Upon the Most Ingenious Pair of Twins, Eugenius + Philalethes and the Author of those Poems [by T. Powell, Oxoniensis]</td> + <td style='text-align:right;'><a href='#Page_57'>57</a></td></tr> + +<tr> + <td> </td><td> To my Friend the Author upon these his Poems [by I. Rowlandson, Oxoniensis]</td> + <td style='text-align:right;'><a href='#Page_58'>58</a></td></tr> + +<tr> + <td> </td><td> Upon the following Poems [by Eugenius Philalethes, Oxoniensis]</td> + <td style='text-align:right;'><a href='#Page_59'>59</a></td></tr> + +<tr> + <td> </td><td> Olor Iscanus. To the River Isca</td> + <td style='text-align:right;'><a href='#Page_61'>61</a></td></tr> + +<tr> + <td> </td><td> The Charnel-House</td> + <td style='text-align:right;'><a href='#Page_65'>65</a></td></tr> + +<tr> + <td> </td><td> In Amicum Foeneratorem</td> + <td style='text-align:right;'><a href='#Page_68'>68</a></td></tr> + +<tr> + <td> </td><td> To his Friend ——</td> + <td style='text-align:right;'><a href='#Page_70'>70</a></td></tr> + +<tr> + <td> </td><td> To his Retired Friend, An Invitation to Brecknock</td> + <td style='text-align:right;'><a href='#Page_73'>73</a></td></tr> + +<tr> + <td> </td><td> Monsieur Gombauld</td> + <td style='text-align:right;'><a href='#Page_77'>77</a></td></tr> + +<tr> + <td> </td><td> An Elegy on the Death of Mr. R. W., Slain in the late + Unfortunate Differences at Routon Heath, near Chester, 1645</td> + <td style='text-align:right;'><a href='#Page_79'>79</a></td></tr> + +<tr> + <td> </td><td> Upon a Cloak lent him by Mr. J. Ridsley</td> + <td style='text-align:right;'><a href='#Page_83'>83</a></td></tr> + +<tr> + <td> </td><td> Upon Mr. Fletcher's Plays, Published 1647</td> + <td style='text-align:right;'><a href='#Page_87'>87</a></td></tr> + +<tr> + <td> </td><td> Upon the Poems and Plays of the Ever-Memorable Mr. William + Cartwright +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_ix" id="Page_ix">[ix]</a></span></td> + <td style='text-align:right;'><a href='#Page_90'>90</a></td></tr> + +<tr> + <td> </td><td> To the Best and Most Accomplished Couple ——</td> + <td style='text-align:right;'><a href='#Page_92'>92</a></td></tr> + +<tr> + <td> </td><td> An Elegy on the Death of Mr. R. Hall, Slain at Pontefract, 1648</td> + <td style='text-align:right;'><a href='#Page_94'>94</a></td></tr> + +<tr> + <td> </td><td> To my Learned Friend, Mr. T. Powell, upon his Translation + of Malvezzi's Christian Politician</td> + <td style='text-align:right;'><a href='#Page_97'>97</a></td></tr> + +<tr> + <td> </td><td> To my Worthy Friend, Master T. Lewes</td> + <td style='text-align:right;'><a href='#Page_99'>99</a></td></tr> + +<tr> + <td> </td><td> To the Most Excellently Accomplished Mrs. K. Philips</td> + <td style='text-align:right;'><a href='#Page_100'>100</a></td></tr> + +<tr> + <td> </td><td> An Epitaph upon the Lady Elizabeth, Second Daughter to his Late Majesty</td> + <td style='text-align:right;'><a href='#Page_102'>102</a></td></tr> + +<tr> + <td> </td><td> To Sir William Davenant upon his Gondibert</td> + <td style='text-align:right;'><a href='#Page_104'>104</a></td></tr> + + +<tr> + <td colspan='2'><span class='smcap'>Translations From Ovid</span>.</td> + <td style='text-align:right;'> </td></tr> + +<tr> + <td> </td><td> To his Fellow Poets at Rome, upon the Birthday of Bacchus</td> + <td style='text-align:right;'><a href='#Page_106'>106</a></td></tr> + +<tr> + <td> </td><td> To his Friends—after his Many Solicitations—Refusing to + Petition Cæsar for his Releasement</td> + <td style='text-align:right;'><a href='#Page_109'>109</a></td></tr> + +<tr> + <td> </td><td> To his Inconstant Friend, Translated for the Use of all + the Judases of this Touchstone Age</td> + <td style='text-align:right;'><a href='#Page_112'>112</a></td></tr> + +<tr> + <td> </td><td> To his Wife at Rome, when he was Sick</td> + <td style='text-align:right;'><a href='#Page_115'>115</a></td></tr> + +<tr> + <td> </td><td> Ausonii. Idyll vi. Cupido [Cruci Affixus]</td> + <td style='text-align:right;'><a href='#Page_119'>119</a></td></tr> + +<tr> + <td> </td><td> [Translations from Boethius] +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_x" id="Page_x">[x]</a></span></td> + <td style='text-align:right;'><a href='#Page_125'>125</a></td></tr> + +<tr> + <td> </td><td> [Translations from Casimirus]</td> + <td style='text-align:right;'><a href='#Page_144'>144</a></td></tr> + +<tr> + <td> </td><td> The Praise of a Religious Life of Mathias Casimirus. In + Answer to that Ode of Horace, Beatus Ille Qui Procul Negotiis.</td> + <td style='text-align:right;'><a href='#Page_152'>152</a></td></tr> + +<tr> + <td> </td><td> Ad Fluvium Iscam</td> + <td style='text-align:right;'><a href='#Page_157'>157</a></td></tr> + +<tr> + <td> </td><td> Venerabili Viro, Praeceptori Suo Olim Et Semper + Colendissimo Magistro Mathaeo Herbert</td> + <td style='text-align:right;'><a href='#Page_158'>158</a></td></tr> + +<tr> + <td> </td><td> Praestantissimo Viro, Thomae Poëllo In Suum De Elementis + Opticae Libellum</td> + <td style='text-align:right;'><a href='#Page_159'>159</a></td></tr> + +<tr> + <td> </td><td> Ad Echum</td> + <td style='text-align:right;'><a href='#Page_160'>160</a></td></tr> + +<tr> + <td colspan='2'><span class='smcap'>Thalia Rediviva</span>. 1678.</td> + <td style='text-align:right;'> </td></tr> + +<tr> + <td> </td><td> To ... Henry Lord Marquis and Earl of Worcester, &c. + [by J. W.]</td> + <td style='text-align:right;'><a href='#Page_163'>163</a></td></tr> + +<tr> + <td> </td><td> To the Reader [by I. W.]</td> + <td style='text-align:right;'><a href='#Page_167'>167</a></td></tr> + +<tr> + <td> </td><td> To Mr. Henry Vaughan, the Silurist: upon These and his + Former Poems. [By Orinda]</td> + <td style='text-align:right;'><a href='#Page_169'>169</a></td></tr> + +<tr> + <td> </td><td> Upon the Ingenious Poems of his Learned Friend, Mr. Henry + Vaughan, the Silurist. [By Tho. Powell, D.D.]</td> + <td style='text-align:right;'><a href='#Page_171'>171</a></td></tr> + +<tr> + <td> </td><td> To the Ingenious Author of Thalia Rediviva [By N. W., + Jes. Coll., Oxon.]</td> + <td style='text-align:right;'><a href='#Page_172'>172</a></td></tr> + +<tr> + <td> </td><td> To my Worthy Friend Mr. Henry Vaughan, the Silurist. + [by I. W., A.M., Oxon.]</td> + <td style='text-align:right;'><a href='#Page_175'>175</a></td></tr> + +<tr> + <td colspan='2'><span class='smcap'>Choice Poems On Several Occasions</span>. + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xi" id="Page_xi">[xi]</a></span></td> + <td style='text-align:right;'> </td></tr> + +<tr> + <td> </td><td> To his Learned Friend and Loyal Fellow-Prisoner, Thomas + Powel of Cant[reff], Doctor of Divinity</td> + <td style='text-align:right;'><a href='#Page_178'>178</a></td></tr> + +<tr> + <td> </td><td> The King Disguised</td> + <td style='text-align:right;'><a href='#Page_181'>181</a></td></tr> + +<tr> + <td> </td><td> The Eagle</td> + <td style='text-align:right;'><a href='#Page_184'>184</a></td></tr> + +<tr> + <td> </td><td> To Mr. M. L. upon his Reduction of the Psalms into Method</td> + <td style='text-align:right;'><a href='#Page_187'>187</a></td></tr> + +<tr> + <td> </td><td> To the Pious Memory of C[harles] W[albeoffe] Esquire, Who + Finished his Course Here, and Made his Entrance into + Immortality upon the 13 of September, in the Year of + Redemption, 1653</td> + <td style='text-align:right;'><a href='#Page_189'>189</a></td></tr> + +<tr> + <td> </td><td> In Zodiacum Marcelli Palingenii</td> + <td style='text-align:right;'><a href='#Page_193'>193</a></td></tr> + +<tr> + <td> </td><td> To Lysimachus, the Author Being with him in London</td> + <td style='text-align:right;'><a href='#Page_195'>195</a></td></tr> + +<tr> + <td> </td><td> On Sir Thomas Bodley's Library, the Author Being Then in Oxford</td> + <td style='text-align:right;'><a href='#Page_197'>197</a></td></tr> + +<tr> + <td> </td><td> The Importunate Fortune, Written to Dr. Powel, of Cant[reff]</td> + <td style='text-align:right;'><a href='#Page_200'>200</a></td></tr> + +<tr> + <td> </td><td> To I. Morgan of Whitehall, Esq., upon his Sudden Journey + and Succeeding Marriage</td> + <td style='text-align:right;'><a href='#Page_204'>204</a></td></tr> + +<tr> + <td> </td><td> Fida; or, The Country Beauty. To Lysimachus</td> + <td style='text-align:right;'><a href='#Page_206'>206</a></td></tr> + +<tr> + <td> </td><td> Fida Forsaken</td> + <td style='text-align:right;'><a href='#Page_209'>209</a></td></tr> + +<tr> + <td> </td><td> To the Editor of the Matchless Orinda</td> + <td style='text-align:right;'><a href='#Page_211'>211</a></td></tr> + +<tr> + <td> </td><td> Upon Sudden News of the Much-Lamented Death of + Judge Trevers + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xii" id="Page_xii">[xii]</a></span></td> + <td style='text-align:right;'><a href='#Page_213'>213</a></td></tr> + +<tr> + <td> </td><td> To Etesia (for Timander); The First Sight</td> + <td style='text-align:right;'><a href='#Page_214'>214</a></td></tr> + +<tr> + <td> </td><td> The Character, to Etesia</td> + <td style='text-align:right;'><a href='#Page_217'>217</a></td></tr> + +<tr> + <td> </td><td> To Etesia Looking from her Casement at the Full Moon</td> + <td style='text-align:right;'><a href='#Page_219'>219</a></td></tr> + +<tr> + <td> </td><td> To Etesia Parted from Him, and Looking Back</td> + <td style='text-align:right;'><a href='#Page_220'>220</a></td></tr> + +<tr> + <td> </td><td> In Etesiam Lachrymantem</td> + <td style='text-align:right;'><a href='#Page_221'>221</a></td></tr> + +<tr> + <td> </td><td> To Etesia Going Beyond Sea</td> + <td style='text-align:right;'><a href='#Page_222'>222</a></td></tr> + +<tr> + <td> </td><td> Etesia Absent</td> + <td style='text-align:right;'><a href='#Page_223'>223</a></td></tr> + +<tr> + <td colspan='2'><span class='smcap'>Translations</span>.</td> + <td style='text-align:right;'> </td></tr> + +<tr> + <td> </td><td> Some Odes of the Excellent and Knowing [Anicius Manlius]</td> + <td style='text-align:right;'><a href='#Page_224'>224</a></td></tr> +<tr> + <td> </td><td> Severinus [Boethius], Englished + + The Old Man of Verona, out of Claudian</td> + <td style='text-align:right;'><a href='#Page_236'>236</a></td></tr> + +<tr> + <td> </td><td> The Sphere of Archimedes, out of Claudian</td> + <td style='text-align:right;'><a href='#Page_238'>238</a></td></tr> + +<tr> + <td> </td><td> The Ph[oe]nix, out of Claudian</td> + <td style='text-align:right;'><a href='#Page_239'>239</a></td></tr> + +<tr> + <td colspan='2'><span class='smcap'>Pious Thoughts And Ejaculations</span>.</td> + <td style='text-align:right;'> </td></tr> + +<tr> + <td> </td><td> To his Books</td> + <td style='text-align:right;'><a href='#Page_245'>245</a></td></tr> + +<tr> + <td> </td><td> Looking Back</td> + <td style='text-align:right;'><a href='#Page_247'>247</a></td></tr> + +<tr> + <td> </td><td> The Shower</td> + <td style='text-align:right;'><a href='#Page_248'>248</a></td></tr> + +<tr> + <td> </td><td> Discipline</td> + <td style='text-align:right;'><a href='#Page_249'>249</a></td></tr> + +<tr> + <td> </td><td> The Eclipse</td> + <td style='text-align:right;'><a href='#Page_250'>250</a></td></tr> + +<tr> + <td> </td><td> Affliction<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xiii" id="Page_xiii">[xiii]</a></span></td> + <td style='text-align:right;'><a href='#Page_251'>251</a></td></tr> + +<tr> + <td> </td><td> Retirement</td> + <td style='text-align:right;'><a href='#Page_252'>252</a></td></tr> + +<tr> + <td> </td><td> The Revival</td> + <td style='text-align:right;'><a href='#Page_254'>254</a></td></tr> + +<tr> + <td> </td><td> The Day Spring</td> + <td style='text-align:right;'><a href='#Page_255'>255</a></td></tr> + +<tr> + <td> </td><td> The Recovery</td> + <td style='text-align:right;'><a href='#Page_257'>257</a></td></tr> + +<tr> + <td> </td><td> The Nativity</td> + <td style='text-align:right;'><a href='#Page_259'>259</a></td></tr> + +<tr> + <td> </td><td> The True Christmas</td> + <td style='text-align:right;'><a href='#Page_261'>261</a></td></tr> + +<tr> + <td> </td><td> The Request</td> + <td style='text-align:right;'><a href='#Page_263'>263</a></td></tr> + +<tr> + <td> </td><td> Jordanis</td> + <td style='text-align:right;'><a href='#Page_265'>265</a></td></tr> + +<tr> + <td> </td><td> Servilii Fatum, Sive Vindicta Divina</td> + <td style='text-align:right;'><a href='#Page_266'>266</a></td></tr> + +<tr> + <td> </td><td> De Salmone</td> + <td style='text-align:right;'><a href='#Page_267'>267</a></td></tr> + +<tr> + <td> </td><td> The World</td> + <td style='text-align:right;'><a href='#Page_268'>268</a></td></tr> + +<tr> + <td> </td><td> The Bee</td> + <td style='text-align:right;'><a href='#Page_272'>272</a></td></tr> + +<tr> + <td> </td><td> To Christian Religion</td> + <td style='text-align:right;'><a href='#Page_276'>276</a></td></tr> + +<tr> + <td> </td><td> Daphnis</td> + <td style='text-align:right;'><a href='#Page_278'>278</a></td></tr> + +<tr> + <td colspan='2'><span class='smcap'>Fragments And Translations</span>. 1641-1661.</td> + <td style='text-align:right;'><a href='#Page_287'>287</a></td></tr> + +<tr> + <td> </td><td> From Eucharistica Oxoniensia (1641)</td> + <td style='text-align:right;'><a href='#Page_289'>289</a></td></tr> + +<tr> + <td> </td><td> From Of the Benefit we may get by our Enemies (1651)</td> + <td style='text-align:right;'><a href='#Page_291'>291</a></td></tr> + +<tr> + <td> </td><td> From Of the Diseases of the Mind and the Body (1651)</td> + <td style='text-align:right;'><a href='#Page_293'>293</a></td></tr> + +<tr> + <td> </td><td> From The Mount of Olives (1652)</td> + <td style='text-align:right;'><a href='#Page_294'>294</a></td></tr> + +<tr> + <td> </td><td> From Man in Glory (1652)</td> + <td style='text-align:right;'><a href='#Page_298'>298</a></td></tr> + +<tr> + <td> </td><td> From Flores Solitudinis (1654)</td> + <td style='text-align:right;'><a href='#Page_299'>299</a></td></tr> + +<tr> + <td> </td><td> From Of Temperance and Patience (1654)</td> + <td style='text-align:right;'><a href='#Page_300'>300</a></td></tr> + +<tr> + <td> </td><td> From Of Life and Death (1654)</td> + <td style='text-align:right;'><a href='#Page_305'>305</a></td></tr> + +<tr> + <td> </td><td> From Primitive Holiness (1654)</td> + <td style='text-align:right;'><a href='#Page_307'>307</a></td></tr> + +<tr> + <td> </td><td> From Hermetical Physic (1655) +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xiv" id="Page_xiv">[xiv]</a></span></td> + <td style='text-align:right;'><a href='#Page_322'>322</a></td></tr> + +<tr> + <td> </td><td> From Cerbyd Fechydwiaeth (1657)</td> + <td style='text-align:right;'><a href='#Page_323'>323</a></td></tr> + +<tr> + <td> </td><td> From Humane Industry (1661)</td> + <td style='text-align:right;'><a href='#Page_324'>324</a></td></tr> + +<tr> + <td colspan='2'><span class='smcap'>Notes To Vol</span>. II</td> + <td style='text-align:right;'><a href='#Page_329'>329</a></td></tr> +<tr> + <td colspan='2'><span class='smcap'>List Of First Lines</span></td> + <td style='text-align:right;'><a href='#Page_355'>355</a></td></tr> + +</table> + + +<hr class="major" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xv" id="Page_xv">[xv]</a></span></p> + +<h2> +<a name="BIOGRAPHICAL_NOTE" id="BIOGRAPHICAL_NOTE"></a> +BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE.</h2> + +<hr class='head' /> + +<p>Recent inquiries into the life of Henry Vaughan +have added but little to the information already contained +in the memoirs of Mr. Lyte and Dr. Grosart. +I have, however, been enabled to put together a few +notes on this somewhat obscure subject, which may +be taken as supplementary to Mr. Beeching's <i>Introduction</i> +in Vol. I. It will be well to preface them +by reprinting the account of Anthony à Wood, our +chief original authority (<i>Ath. Oxon.</i>, ed. Bliss, 1817, iv. 425):</p> + +<p>"Henry Vaughan, called the <i>Silurist</i> from that +part of Wales whose inhabitants were in ancient times +called Silures, brother twin (but elder)<a name="FNanchor_1_1" id="FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> to Eugenius +Philalethes, alias Tho. Vaughan ... was born at +Newton S. Briget, lying on the river Isca, +commonly called Uske, in Brecknockshire, educated<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xvi" id="Page_xvi">[xvi]</a></span> +in grammar learning in his own country for six years +under one Matthew Herbert, a noted schoolmaster of +his time, made his first entry into Jesus College in +Mich. term 1638, aged 17 years; where spending +two years or more in logicals under a noted tutor, +was taken thence and designed by his father for the +obtaining of some knowledge in the municipal laws +at London. But soon after the civil war beginning, +to the horror of all good men, he was sent for home, +followed the pleasant paths of poetry and philology, +became noted for his ingenuity, and published several +specimens thereof, of which his <i>Olor Iscanus</i> was +most valued. Afterwards applying his mind to the +study of physic, became at length eminent in his own +country for the practice thereof, and was esteemed +by scholars an ingenious person, but proud and +humorous.... [A list of Vaughan's works +follows.] ... He died in the latter end of April +(about the 29th day) in sixteen hundred ninety and +five, and was buried in the parish church of Llansenfreid, +about two miles distant from Brecknock, +in Brecknockshire."</p> + +<p>Anthony à Wood seems to have had some personal +acquaintance with the poet, for in his account of +Thomas Vaughan (<i>Ath. Oxon.</i> iii. 725) he says +that "Olor Iscanus sent me a catalogue of his +brother's works."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xvii" id="Page_xvii">[xvii]</a></span></p> + + +<h3>(<i>a</i>) THE VAUGHAN GENEALOGY.</h3> + +<p>Henry Vaughan's descent from the Vaughans of +Tretower, County Brecon, has been accurately traced +by Dr. Grosart and others. Little has been hitherto +known about his immediate family. Theophilus +Jones, in his <i>History of Brecknockshire</i> (1805-9), ii. +544, says: "Henry Vaughan died in 1695, aged 75,<a name="FNanchor_2_2" id="FNanchor_2_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a> +leaving by his first wife two sons and three daughters, +and by his second a daughter Rachel, who married John +Turberville. His grand-daughter, Denys, or Dyenis, a +corruption or abbreviation of Dyonisia, who was the +daughter of Jenkin Jones of Trebinshwn, by Luce +his wife, died single in 1780, aged 92, and is buried +in the Priory churchyard.<a name="FNanchor_3_3" id="FNanchor_3_3"></a><a href="#Footnote_3_3" class="fnanchor">[3]</a> What became of the +remainder of his family, or whether they are extinct, +I know not." To this statement Mr. Lyte added +nothing but some errors, and Dr. Grosart nothing +but the following hypothesis:—</p> + +<p>"I am inclined to think that William Vaughan, +censor of the College of Physicians, physician to +William III<span class='super'>d</span>., was one of the sons of our worthy +mentioned by Mr. Lyte.... William Vaughan's +'age 20' in 1668 represents 1648 as the birth-date,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xviii" id="Page_xviii">[xviii]</a></span> +and that fits in with the love-verse of the Poems +of 1646."</p> + +<p>Mr. G. T. Clark, in his <i>Genealogies of Glamorgan</i>, +p. 240, gives the following account:—</p> + +<p>Henry [Vaughan], ob. 1695, æt. 75, father by +first wife of (1) a son, s. p.; (2) Lucy ob. 29 Aug., +1780, æt. 92,<a name="FNanchor_4_4" id="FNanchor_4_4"></a><a href="#Footnote_4_4" class="fnanchor">[4]</a> m. Jenkin Jones of Trebinshwn. Their +d. Denise Jones, died single, 1780, æt. 92. By second +wife (3) Rachel, m. John Turberville; (4) Edmund; +(5) Alexander, ob. 1622 [!], s. p.; (6) Catharine, m. +Wm. Harris; (7) Mary, m. John Walbeoffe of +Llanhamlach; (8) Elizabeth, m. John Arnold; (9) +Frances, m. Wm. Johns of Cwm Dhu.</p> + +<p>Unfortunately Mr. Clark is unable to remember +his authority for this pedigree. I have found another, +which differs from it in many ways, and is exceedingly +interesting, inasmuch as it gives, for the first +time, the names of Henry Vaughan's two wives, who +appear to have been sisters. It is in a volume of +<i>Brecknockshire Pedigrees</i> collected by the Welsh +Herald, Hugh Thomas, and now amongst the +Harleian MSS. Hugh Thomas was born and lived +hard by Llansantffread, and must have known +Vaughan and his family personally. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xix" id="Page_xix">[xix]</a></span></p> +<div> +<p class='center'>PEDIGREE OF VAUGHAN OF TRETOWER AND NEWTON</p> +<p class='center'>(From Harl. MS. 2289, f. 81.)</p> +<p class='center'> +<img src='images/pedigree1.png' + alt='Pedigree of Vaughan of Tretower and Newton' + title='Pedigree of Vaughan of Tretower and Newton' /> +</p> +</div> + +<p>It will be observed that neither Mr. Clark's pedigree +nor Hugh Thomas' agrees with the number of children +assigned to each marriage by Theophilus Jones, and +that neither of them helps out Dr. Grosart's hypothesis +that Dr. William Vaughan was a son of the +poet. Mr. W. B. Rye (<i>Genealogist</i>, iii. 33) has +made it appear likely that this Dr. Vaughan, who +married Anne Newton, of Romford in Essex, belonged +to a branch of the Vaughans who had been +settled in Romford since 1571.</p> + +<p>I now proceed to confirm and illustrate the pedigrees +by giving such further facts concerning +Vaughan's immediate family as I have been able<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xx" id="Page_xx">[xx]</a></span> +with Miss Morgan's assistance, to glean. I can trace +no family of Wises in Staffordshire so early as the +seventeenth century, nor any place in that county +called Ritsonhall. It is possible that the R. W. of +the <i>Elegy</i> (vol. ii., p. 79, <i>note</i>) may have been a Wise, +and also that the connection between Vaughan and the +Staffordshire Egertons may have been through this +family (vol. ii., p. 294, <i>note</i>). Vaughan's first wife +Catharine was probably dead before 1658. Thomas +Vaughan, in his diary (MS. Sloane, 1741, f. 106 (b)), +makes mention in that year of "eyewater made at +the Pinner of Wakefield by my dear wife and my +Sister Vaughan, who are both now with God." The +second wife, Elizabeth, survived her husband. +Administration of his goods was granted to her as +the widow of an intestate in May, 1695.<a name="FNanchor_5_5" id="FNanchor_5_5"></a><a href="#Footnote_5_5" class="fnanchor">[5]</a> The fine +old manor-house at Newton was pulled down by a +stupid land-agent within the memory of man, but a +stone has been found built into the wall of a house +half-a-mile from the site, bearing the inscription<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xxi" id="Page_xxi">[xxi]</a></span> +"H<span class='super'>V</span>E, 1689." This may well stand for H[enry +and] E[lizabeth] V[aughan]. Newton probably +passed to the poet's eldest son Thomas and his +wife Frances.<a name="FNanchor_6_6" id="FNanchor_6_6"></a><a href="#Footnote_6_6" class="fnanchor">[6]</a> Of their descendants, if any, we +know nothing. There was a William Vaughan of +Llansantffread who, later than 1714, married Mary +Games of Tregaer in Llanfrynach. But this was +probably a Vaughan not of Newton, but of Scethrog, +also in Llansantffread (<i>cf.</i> footnote to p. xxv. +below.) In 1733 William Vaughan was churchwarden +of Llanfrynach. In 1740 William Vaughan +of Tregaer was high sheriff of Brecknock. In +1760 Tregaer had passed by purchase to a Mr. +Phillips. The registers of Llanfrynach from 1695-1756 +are now lost. Lucy Greenleafe and her sister +Catharine are quite obscure. One of them may +have been the niece who was living with Thomas +Vaughan when news came from the country in 1658 +of his father's death (MS. Sloane, 1741, f. 89 (b)). Of +the second family, Henry became Rector of Penderin +in 1684, and vacated the living, probably through +death, in 1713. A tablet to his memory hung during<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xxii" id="Page_xxii">[xxii]</a></span> +the present century in the church at Penderin, but +when the church was restored the tablets were taken +down and buried under the tiles of the chancel. His +wife, a Walbeoffe of Talyllyn, belonged to the same +family as the Walbeoffes of Llanhamlach (vol. ii., +p. 189, <i>note</i>). The eldest girl, Grisill, married Roger +Prosser. The Prossers were the younger branch of a +Brecknockshire family who had become sadlers and +mercers in Brecon. Many of their tombs are in the +Priory church, but Theophilus Jones states that by +his time they were extinct. Grisill Prosser was +married a second time, in 1709, to Morgan Watkins, +an attorney, and was buried on August 21, 1737. +The second girl, Lucy, married Jenkin Jones of +Trebinshwn, a cousin of Colonel Jenkin Jones, the +local Parliamentary leader. Her daughter, Denise +Jones, died single in 1780, as Theophilus Jones +states, and her tombstone in the Priory church +records her descent. The third girl, Rachel, married +John Turberville, one of the Turbervilles of Llangattock, +who claimed kinship with the Elizabethan +poet of that name. The following pedigree shows +the descendants of the three daughters of Henry +Vaughan's second marriage, so far as they can be +traced.<a name="FNanchor_7_7" id="FNanchor_7_7"></a><a href="#Footnote_7_7" class="fnanchor">[7]</a></p> + +<p class='center'><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xxiii" id="Page_xxiii">[xxiii]</a></span> +<img src='images/pedigree2.png' + alt='Descendants of Henry Vaughan' + title='Descendants of Henry Vaughan' +/> +</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xxiv" id="Page_xxiv">[xxiv]</a></span></p> + +<p>It will be seen that I can give no evidence of +the existence of any living descendants of Henry +Vaughan.</p> + +<p>Henry's grandfather, Thomas Vaughan, a younger +son of Charles Vaughan of Tretower, seems to have +come into the possession of Newton through his +marriage with an heiress of the family of Gwillims or +Williams. Newton, or in Welsh Trenewydd, is a +farm of about 200 acres in the manor or lordship, and +near the village of Scethrog, both being in the parish +of Llansantffread and hundred of Penkelley. Williams +is a common name in Breconshire, and I cannot trace +the descent of Thomas Vaughan's wife. In the +sixteenth century Newton belonged to a family who +finally settled on the name of Howel, ap Howell or +Powell.<a name="FNanchor_8_8" id="FNanchor_8_8"></a><a href="#Footnote_8_8" class="fnanchor">[8]</a> The last of these is described on his tombstone +in Llansantffread Church as "David Morgan +David Howel, who married ... William of Llanhamoloch: +and they had issue one daughter called +Denys. He died 2nd June, 1598." Perhaps Newton +passed in some way from David Morgan David Howel +to his wife's family, and so to Thomas Vaughan, +who married Denise Gwillims. Theophilus Jones +(ii. 538) records that at a later date other Williams's,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xxv" id="Page_xxv">[xxv]</a></span> +also apparently connected with Llanhamlach, were +succeeded by other Vaughans at Scethrog, hard by +Newton. His account is that David Williams, +youngest brother of Sir Thomas Williams of Eltham, +married a daughter of John Walbeoffe of Llanhamlach +(<i>cf.</i> pedigree in vol. ii., p. 189, <i>note</i>), and bought +Scethrog. Their son Charles died without issue, +and the property passed to his wife Mary (Anne +in Harl. MS., 2289, t. 39; <i>cf.</i> vol. ii., p. 204, <i>note</i>), +the daughter of Morgan John of Wenallt.... +She afterwards married Hugh Powell, clerk, parson +of Llansanffread and precentor of St. David's, and +her daughter Margaret married Charles Vaughan, +son to Vaughan Morgan of Tretower.<a name="FNanchor_9_9" id="FNanchor_9_9"></a><a href="#Footnote_9_9" class="fnanchor">[9]</a></p> + +<p>A trace of Thomas Vaughan is probably preserved +in a window-head from the old church of Llansantffread, +now destroyed, which has the inscription:—</p> + +<p class='center'> +<img src='images/inscription.png' + alt='Llansantffread inscription' + title='Llansantffread inscription' +/> +</p> + +<p>T. V. may stand for T[homas] V[aughan].<a name="FNanchor_10_10" id="FNanchor_10_10"></a><a href="#Footnote_10_10" class="fnanchor">[10]</a></p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xxvi" id="Page_xxvi">[xxvi]</a></span></p> +<p>Of Henry Vaughan, the poet's father, very little is +known. His name appears in a list of Breconshire +magistrates for 1620. And we learn from Thomas +Vaughan's diary in Sloane MS. 1741, f. 89 (b), that +he died in August 1658.</p> + +<p>The only additional definite fact which I can here +record of the poet himself is that in 1691 he entered +a caveat against any institution to the vicarage of +Llandevalley, he claiming the next presentation under +a grant from William Winter, Esq.<a name="FNanchor_11_11" id="FNanchor_11_11"></a><a href="#Footnote_11_11" class="fnanchor">[11]</a> Mr. Rye has +shown that the specimen of handwriting facsimiled +by Dr. Grosart in his edition of Henry +Vaughan's <i>Works</i> cannot possibly be the poet's. +The signatures, however, on the margin of a copy +of <i>Olor Iscanus</i>, once in the library of Lady Isham, +might be genuine.</p> + + +<h3>(<i>b</i>) VAUGHAN AND JESUS COLLEGE, OXFORD.</h3> + +<p>Anthony à Wood's statement as to Vaughan's +residence at Jesus College, Oxford, has been generally +accepted, but I venture to doubt it on the following grounds:—</p> + +<p>(1) Vaughan's name does not occur in the University +Matriculation Register, although his brother<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xxvii" id="Page_xxvii">[xxvii]</a></span> +Thomas Vaughan is duly entered as matriculating +from Jesus on 14th December, 1638. The only +College records which help us are the Battel-books +for 1638 and 1640. That for 1639 is unfortunately +missing. The Rev. Llewellyn Thomas kindly +informs me that he can only trace one undergraduate +Vaughan in the two books in question. The Christian +name is not given, but I think that we must assume +it to be Thomas.</p> + +<p>(2) Vaughan does not describe himself on any +title-page as of Jesus College; nor does he ever speak +of himself as an Oxford man. This omission is the +more noticeable as he would naturally have done so +in the lines <i>Ad Posteros</i> (vol. ii., p. 51), and might +well have done so in those <i>On Sir Thomas Bodley's +Library, the Author being then in Oxford</i> (vol. ii., p. 197).</p> + +<p>(3) Anthony à Wood cannot be depended on. He +describes Thomas Carew, for instance, as of C.C.C., +whereas he was a most certainly of Merton. And +there was another Henry Vaughan of Jesus, who +may have been confused with the poet. This Henry +Vaughan, a son of John Vaughan of Cathlin, +Merionethshire, matriculated at Oriel on July 4, +1634. He afterwards became a Scholar and Fellow +of Jesus, taking his B.A. in 1637 and his M.A. in +1639. In 1643 he became vicar of Penteg, co. Monmouth, +and died at Abergavenny in 1661. +(Wood, <i>Ath. Oxon.</i>, iii. 531; Foster, <i>Alumni Oxon.</i>)<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xxviii" id="Page_xxviii">[xxviii]</a></span></p> + +<p>(4) The only confirmation of Anthony à Wood's +statement is the poem (vol. ii., p. 289) taken by Dr. +Grosart from the <i>Eucharistica Oxoniensia</i> (1641), +and signed "H. Vaughan, Jes. Col." If I am +right, this may be by Vaughan's namesake. He has +indeed another poem in that volume signed "Hen. +Vaugh., Jes. Soc." but that is in Latin, and it is +not unexampled for one man to contribute more than +one poem, especially in different tongues, to such +collections. Or it may be by Herbert Vaughan, who +was a Gentleman-commoner of the College in 1641, +and has, with Henry Vaughan the Fellow, verses in +the <span title='proteleia'>προτέλεια</span> +<i>Anglo Batava</i> of the same year.</p> + + +<h3>(<i>c</i>) VAUGHAN IN THE CIVIL WAR.</h3> + +<p>There are several passages which make it probable +that Vaughan, like his brother Thomas, bore arms on +the King's side in the Civil War. The most important +is in the poem <i>To Mr. Ridsley</i> (vol. ii., p. 83), +where he speaks of the time</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i5">"when this juggling fate<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of soldiery first seiz'd me."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>In the same poem he mentions</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i11">"that day, when we<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Left craggy Biston and the fatal Dee."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>"Craggy Biston" is clearly Beeston Castle, one of +the outlying defences of Chester, situated on a steep<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xxix" id="Page_xxix">[xxix]</a></span> +rock not very far east of the Dee. This castle was +besieged on several occasions during the Civil War, +especially during the campaign of 1645, when +Chester was also besieged by the Parliamentarians.<a name="FNanchor_12_12" id="FNanchor_12_12"></a><a href="#Footnote_12_12" class="fnanchor">[12]</a> +Between Beeston and the Dee was fought, on +September 24, 1645, the battle of Rowton Heath, +after which Charles the First, who had hoped to raise +the siege of Chester, was obliged to retreat to +Denbigh.<a name="FNanchor_13_13" id="FNanchor_13_13"></a><a href="#Footnote_13_13" class="fnanchor">[13]</a> The following lines from Vaughan's +<i>Elegy on Mr. R. W.</i> (vol. ii., p. 79), who fell in +that battle, seem to have been written by an eye-witness:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i14">"O that day<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When like the fathers in the fire and cloud<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I miss'd thy face! I might in ev'ry crowd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">See arms like thine, and men advance, but none<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So near to lightning mov'd, nor so fell on.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have you observ'd how soon the nimble eye<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Brings th' object to conceit, and doth so vie<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Performance with the soul, that you would swear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The act and apprehension both lodg'd there?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Just so mov'd he: like shot his active hand<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Drew blood, ere well the foe could understand.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But here I lost him."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>This appears to me pretty conclusive evidence; +against it, however, must be set the passage on the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xxx" id="Page_xxx">[xxx]</a></span> +Civil War in the autobiographical poem <i>Ad Posteros</i> +(vol. ii., p. 51).</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Vixi, divisos cum fregerat haeresis Anglos<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Inter Tysiphonas presbyteri et populi.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His primum miseris per amoena furentibus arva<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Prostravit sanctam vilis avena rosam.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Turbarunt fontes, et fusis pax perit undis,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Moestaque coelestes obruit umbra dies.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Duret ut integritas tamen, et pia gloria, partem<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Me nullam in tanta strage fuisse, scias;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Credidimus nempe insonti vocem esse cruori,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Et vires quae post funera flere docent.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hinc castae, fidaeque pati me more parentis<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Commonui, et lachrimis fata levare meis;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hinc nusquam horrendis violavi sacra procellis,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nec mihi mens unquam, nec manus atra fuit.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The natural interpretation of this certainly is that +Vaughan took no share in the disturbances of his +time, except to grieve over them in retirement. Yet, +in the first place, the lines may have been written +before he took up arms in 1645, and, in the second, +they may only mean that he had no share in <i>bringing +about</i> the troubles of England, or in shedding +<i>innocent</i> blood. Similarly when elsewhere, as in +<i>Abel's Blood</i> (vol. i. p. 254), and in the prayer to +be quoted below, he expresses horror of blood-guiltiness, +this need not necessarily be taken as +extending to the man who fights in a righteous cause.</p> + +<p>Miss Morgan, I may add, suggests that Vaughan +was at Rowton Heath, not as a combatant, but as a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xxxi" id="Page_xxxi">[xxxi]</a></span> +physician. The description which he gives of the +battle reads like that of a man who saw it from some +commanding point of view, but was not himself +engaged. I think it not improbable that Vaughan +was one of the garrison of Beeston Castle, which is +described to me as "a sort of grand stand for the +battle-field." Beeston Castle was invested by the +Parliamentarians in the course of September 1645. +On the approach of Charles the troops were drawn off +on 19th September to Chester.<a name="FNanchor_14_14" id="FNanchor_14_14"></a><a href="#Footnote_14_14" class="fnanchor">[14]</a> Charles no doubt +took the opportunity to strengthen the garrison. After +Rowton Heath Beeston Castle was again besieged, +and on November 16th it surrendered. The garrison +were allowed to march across the Dee to Denbigh. +I think that this winter ride from the fallen fortress is +the one described by Vaughan in the poem to Mr. +Ridsley. It is the more probable that Vaughan took +part in this campaign of 1645, in that Charles's +force was largely recruited from Wales. After the +battle of Naseby on June 14th, the King had +marched through Wales, collecting such levies as he +could. He was in Brecon on August 5th.<a name="FNanchor_15_15" id="FNanchor_15_15"></a><a href="#Footnote_15_15" class="fnanchor">[15]</a> It is +quite possible that Vaughan, whose kinsman Sir +William Vaughan was in command of a brigade, +volunteered on this occasion. From Brecon Charles +marched through Radnorshire, Shropshire, Staffordshire, +Derbyshire, Nottinghamshire, Yorkshire, and +so to Oxford. In September he set out again, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xxxii" id="Page_xxxii">[xxxii]</a></span> +after some delay at Hereford and Raglan, finally +made for Chester.</p> + +<p>It is just conceivable that it is to some occasion in +this campaign that Vaughan refers when he calls Dr. +Powell his "fellow-prisoner" (vol. ii., p. 178). The +poet may even have been the Captain Vaughan whose +name appears in the official list of prisoners taken at +Rowton Heath.<a name="FNanchor_16_16" id="FNanchor_16_16"></a><a href="#Footnote_16_16" class="fnanchor">[16]</a> Powell's name is not there, but +then the list does not profess to be complete. But on +the whole I think that Vaughan and Powell were +only fellow-prisoners in the Platonic sense of imprisonment +in the flesh, and even if a literal imprisonment +is intended, it may have been due to some act of +persecution which Vaughan had to suffer as a +Royalist at a later date. There is in <i>The Mount of +Olives</i> (1652) a <i>Prayer in Adversity and Troubles +occasioned by our Enemies</i> (Grosart, vol. iii., p. 75), +which, if it is to be taken—I think it is not—as +autobiographical, seems to show that, at least for a +time, he lost his estate. The prayer runs: "Thou +seest, O God, how furious and implacable mine +enemies are: they have not only robbed me of that +portion and provision which Thou hast graciously +given me, but they have also washed their hands in +the blood of my friends, my dearest and nearest +relations. I know, O God, and I am daily taught +by that disciple whom Thou didst love, that no +murderer hath eternal life abiding in him. Keep me,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xxxiii" id="Page_xxxiii">[xxxiii]</a></span> +therefore, O my God, from the guilt of blood, and +suffer me not to stain my soul with the thoughts of +recompense and vengeance, which is a branch of Thy +great prerogative, and belongs wholly unto Thee. +Though they persecute me unto death, and pant after +the very dust upon the heads of Thy poor, though +they have taken the bread out of Thy children's +mouth, and have made me a desolation; yet, Lord, +give me Thy grace, and such a measure of charity as +may fully forgive them."</p> + +<p>It may have been during some such time of trouble, +or imprisonment, if imprisonment there was, that +Vaughan's wife lived with Thomas Vaughan, as will +be seen below, in London.</p> + + +<h3>(<i>d</i>) THOMAS VAUGHAN.</h3> + +<p>It has not been thought necessary to reprint in this +edition of Henry Vaughan's poems the scanty +English and Latin verses of his brother, Thomas +Vaughan. They may be found, together with verses +by Virgil and Campion ascribed to him, in vol. ii. of +Dr. Grosart's <i>Fuller Worthies</i> edition. But some +account of so curious a person will not be out of place.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xxxiv" id="Page_xxxiv">[xxxiv]</a></span></p> + +<p>As for his brother, our chief authority is Anthony +à Wood (<i>Ath. Oxon.</i>, iii. 722), who says that he was +the son of Thomas Vaughan of Llansantffread,<a name="FNanchor_17_17" id="FNanchor_17_17"></a><a href="#Footnote_17_17" class="fnanchor">[17]</a> that +he was born in 1621, educated under Matthew +Herbert and at Jesus College, Oxford, of which he +became Fellow, took orders and received [in 1640] +the living of Llansanffread from his kinsman, Sir +George Vaughan [of Fallerstone, Wilts]. He lost +his living in the unquiet times of the Civil War, +retired to Oxford, and became an eminent chemist, +afterwards moving to London, where he worked +under the patronage of Sir Robert Murray. He was +a great admirer of Cornelius Agrippa, "a great +chymist, a noted son of the fire, an experimental +philosopher, a zealous brother of the Rosicrucian +fraternity ... neither papist nor sectary, but a +true resolute protestant in the best sense of the +Church of England." In the great plague he fled +with Murray from London to Oxford, and thence +went to the house of Samuel Kem at Albury, where +he died on February 27, 1665/6, of mercury +accidentally getting into his nose while he was +operating. He was buried at Albury on March 1st. +Writing in 1673, Anthony à Wood gives a list of his +alchemical and mystical treatises published between +1650 and 1655. Of these he had received a list from +Olor Iscanus (Henry Vaughan). They all bear the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xxxv" id="Page_xxxv">[xxxv]</a></span> +name of Eugenius Philalethes, except the <i>Aula +Lucis</i> (1652), which was issued as by S. N., <i>i.e.</i> +[Thoma]S [Vaugha]N. Some of these pamphlets +contain Vaughan's share of a vigorous and scurrilous +controversy with Henry More, the Platonist. +Anthony à Wood distinguishes from Vaughan +another Eugenius Philalethes, author of the <i>Brief +Natural History</i> (1669), also one Eirenaeus Philalethes, +author of <i>Ripley Redivivus</i> and other works, +and Eirenaeus Philoponos Philalethes, author of <i>The +Marrow of Alchemy</i> (1654-5).<a name="FNanchor_18_18" id="FNanchor_18_18"></a><a href="#Footnote_18_18" class="fnanchor">[18]</a></p> + +<p>A few facts, from well-known sources, may be added +to Anthony à Wood's account. The University +Registers show that "Thos. Vaughan, son of +Thomas of Llansanfraid, co. Brecon, pleb., matriculated +from Jesus College on 14 Dec, 1638, aged 16."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xxxvi" id="Page_xxxvi">[xxxvi]</a></span> +He took his B.A. on 18 Feb., 1641/2, but does +not appear to have taken his M.A., though he +became Fellow of his College (Foster, <i>Alumni +Oxon.</i>). John Walker (<i>Sufferings of the Clergy</i> +(1714), p. 389) states that he was ejected from his +living on the charges of "drunkenness, immorality, +and bearing arms for the King."<a name="FNanchor_19_19" id="FNanchor_19_19"></a><a href="#Footnote_19_19" class="fnanchor">[19]</a> This must have +been in 1649, under the Act for the Propagation of +the Gospel in Wales. There exists a letter from +Thomas Vaughan to a friend in London, dated from +"Newtown, Ash Wednesday, 1653;"<a name="FNanchor_20_20" id="FNanchor_20_20"></a><a href="#Footnote_20_20" class="fnanchor">[20]</a> and it appears +from Jones' <i>History of Brecknockshire</i> (ii., 542), that +at one time he lived with his brother Henry there. +The allusions to Henry More, to Murray, and to the +Isis and Thames seem to show that he is the Daphnis +of his brother's <i>Eclogue</i> (vol. ii., p. 278). No trace +of his death or burial can however be now found at +Albury. Mr. Gordon Goodwin points out to me +that Dr. Samuel Kem was a somewhat notorious +character (<i>Dict. Nat. Biog.</i>, s.v. <i>Kem</i>): perhaps this +friendship, together with the personal confession +quoted below, throws light on the charges which +lost Vaughan his living. On the other hand<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xxxvii" id="Page_xxxvii">[xxxvii]</a></span> +Anthony à Wood speaks well of him, and the +tone of his writings bears out this more kindly +judgment, at any rate so far as his later years are +concerned.</p> + +<p>What has been said fairly well exhausted the +available information on Thomas Vaughan until a +few years ago, when Mr. A. E. Waite discovered in +Sloane MS. 1741 a valuable manuscript of his, containing +amongst other things a number of autobiographical +memoranda. He printed some extracts +from this in the preface to an edition of some of <i>The +Magical Writings of Thomas Vaughan</i> (Redway, +1888), and has been kind enough to furnish me with +a reference to the MS. itself, which I have carefully +examined. It bears the title <i>Aqua Vitae non Vitis</i>, +and the inscription "Ex libris Thomas et Rebecca +Vaughan, 1651, Sept. 28. Quos Deus coniunxit quis +separabit?" The contents are partly personal +jottings and records of dreams, partly alchemical +formulae. They appear to cover the period 1658-1662. +We learn from them the following facts:—Vaughan +was married on September 28, 1651, to a +lady named Rebecca (f. 106 (b)). With her and his +"Sister Vaughan" he lived and studied alchemy at +the Pinner of Wakefield.<a name="FNanchor_21_21" id="FNanchor_21_21"></a><a href="#Footnote_21_21" class="fnanchor">[21]</a> He had previously lodged +at Mr. Coalman's in Holborn (f. 104 (b)). His wife +died on Saturday, April 17, 1658, and was buried at +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xxxviii" id="Page_xxxviii">[xxxviii]</a></span> +Mappersall, in Bedfordshire (f. 106 (b)).<a name="FNanchor_22_22" id="FNanchor_22_22"></a><a href="#Footnote_22_22" class="fnanchor">[22]</a> In 1658 his +father and his brother W. were both dead, and he +mentions the news of his father's death coming to +his niece in a letter from the country (f. 89 (b)). On +April 9, 1659, he saw his brother H. in a dream. +On 16 July, 1658, he was living at Wapping +(f. 103 (b)), and at an earlier period at Paddington. +There is an inventory of his wife's goods left at Mrs. +Highgate's, and mention of a Mr. Highgate and a +Sir John Underhill (f. 107). He names his cousin, +Mr. J. Walbeoffe, with whom he had some money +transactions (f. 18), and speaks of "a certain person +with whom I had in former times revelled away my +years in drinking" (f. 103). Perhaps this also was +John Walbeoffe, on whom <i>see</i> vol. ii., p. 189, <i>note</i>. +The alchemical formulae and receipts are interesting. +In one place (f. 12) Vaughan announces the discovery +of the "Extract of Oil of Halcaly," which he had +previously found in his wife's days and had lost +again. This he calls "the greatest joy I can ever +have in this world after her death." He seems to +have regarded it as the key to an universal solvent. +Nearly every receipt is followed by his and his wife's<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xxxix" id="Page_xxxix">[xxxix]</a></span> +initials in the form T. R. V. or T. <span class='super'>V.</span> R., and by some +expression of devotion to her or of religious piety.</p> + +<p>I now come to the remarkable statements made +with respect to Thomas Vaughan in the <i>Mémoires +d'une ex-Palladiste</i>, now in course of publication by +Miss Diana Vaughan. Miss Vaughan is a lady who +has created a considerable sensation in Paris. Her +own account of herself is that she was brought up as +a worshipper of Lucifer, and was for some years a +leading spirit amongst certain androgynous lodges of +Freemasons, in which the worship of Lucifer is +largely practised. She has now, owing to the direct +interposition of Joan of Arc, become a Catholic, and +has made it her mission to combat Luciferian Freemasonry +in every way. Her <i>Memoirs</i> are partly a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xl" id="Page_xl">[xl]</a></span> +biography, partly an account of this cult.<a name="FNanchor_23_23" id="FNanchor_23_23"></a><a href="#Footnote_23_23" class="fnanchor">[23]</a> Miss +Vaughan claims to be a great-grand-daughter of +Thomas Vaughan's. She declares him to have been +a Luciferian, Grand-master of the Rosicrucian order, +and the founder of modern Freemasonry; and gives<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xli" id="Page_xli">[xli]</a></span> +an exhaustive account of his career on the authority +of family archives. The following paragraphs contain +the substance of her narrative, the "legend of +Philalethes," as it was told to Miss Vaughan by her +father and her uncle, who were intimate friends of +Albert Pike.</p> + +<p>The traditional accounts of Thomas Vaughan, says +Miss Vaughan, contain serious errors. The dates +of his birth and of his death, and the pseudonym +under which he wrote are all incorrectly stated<a name="FNanchor_24_24" id="FNanchor_24_24"></a><a href="#Footnote_24_24" class="fnanchor">[24]</a> +(p. 110). He was born in Monmouth in 1612, +being two years the elder of his brother Henry. +The two boys were brought up at Oxford, after<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xlii" id="Page_xlii">[xlii]</a></span> +their father's death, by their uncle, Robert Vaughan +the antiquary,<a name="FNanchor_25_25" id="FNanchor_25_25"></a><a href="#Footnote_25_25" class="fnanchor">[25]</a> and entered at Jesus College +(p. 114). In 1636, at the age of 24, Thomas +Vaughan went to London, and became the disciple of +Robert Fludd, who was a Rosicrucian (p. 148). The +real nature of the Rosicrucians has hitherto been a +mystery. They were in reality Luciferians, and +carried on in secret during the seventeenth century +that warfare against Adonai, the god of the Catholics, +out of which had already sprung Wiclif, Luther, and +the Reformation, and out of which was some day to +spring, more deadly and more dangerous still, Freemasonry. +The Fraternity of Rosie-Cross was +founded by Faustus Socinus in 1597. He was +succeeded as head of it by Caesar Cremonini (1604-1617), +Michael Maier (1617-1622), Valentin Andreae +(1622-1654), and Thomas Vaughan (1654-1678).<a name="FNanchor_26_26" id="FNanchor_26_26"></a><a href="#Footnote_26_26" class="fnanchor">[26]</a> +When Thomas Vaughan first came to London in +1636, Valentin Andreae was <i>Summus Magister</i> of +the Fraternity, and amongst its leading members +were Robert Fludd and Amos Komenski, or +Comenius (pp. 129-148). Robert Fludd initiated +Thomas Vaughan into the lower degrees of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xliii" id="Page_xliii">[xliii]</a></span> +Golden Cross (p. 148), and sent him to Andreae at +Calw, near Stuttgart, with a letter in which he prophesied +for him a miraculous future (p. 163). After +this visit to Germany, Vaughan returned to London, +and after Fludd's death, in 1637, undertook in 1638 +his first visit to America. In many of his writings +he speaks as a Christian minister, and at this time he +probably passed as a Nonconformist (p. 164). He +was back in London early in June, 1639 (p. 165), and +in the same year visited Denmark, and made a report +to Komenski on the mysterious golden horn found at +Tondern in that country (p. 166). In 1640 Vaughan +received from Komenski the first initiation of the +Rosie Cross, and chose the pseudonym of Eirenaeus +Philalethes.<a name="FNanchor_27_27" id="FNanchor_27_27"></a><a href="#Footnote_27_27" class="fnanchor">[27]</a> He now became exceedingly active, +going and coming upon the face of the earth. When<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xliv" id="Page_xliv">[xliv]</a></span> +in England, he divided his time between Oxford and +London (p. 167). Between 1640 and 1644 he +visited Hamburg, the Netherlands, Italy and +Sweden (pp. 171-174). It was at this period that he +conceived the design of obtaining a far wider circulation +than they had yet met with for the ideas of +Faustus Socinus. Some of the Rosicrucians were +already "accepted masons." Vaughan determined +to capture the vast organization of craft masonry by +permeating the lodges with Luciferianism. His +associate in this task was Elias Ashmole, with whose +aid, a few years later, he composed the degrees of +Apprentice (1646), Companion (1648), and Master +(1649) (pp. 142, 169-175, 197-206). The Civil War +had now approached. Oliver Cromwell was a freemason, +a Rosicrucian, and a friend of Vaughan's +(p. 176). With the execution of Laud came the +crisis of Vaughan's life, his initiation into the highest +degree of Rosie Cross by the hands of Lucifer himself. +It took place in this wise. At the last moment +Vaughan was substituted for the intended executioner +of Laud.<a name="FNanchor_28_28" id="FNanchor_28_28"></a><a href="#Footnote_28_28" class="fnanchor">[28]</a> He had prepared a sacramental cloth which +he soaked in the martyr's blood, and on the same +night he sacrificed the relic to Lucifer. The divinity<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xlv" id="Page_xlv">[xlv]</a></span> +appeared, consecrated Vaughan as <i>Magus</i>, named +him as the next <i>Summus Magister</i> of the Fraternity, +and signed a pact, granting him thirty-three years +more life, at the end of which he should be borne +away from earth without death (p. 177). In 1645 +Vaughan wrote, but did not yet publish, his most +important treatise, the <i>Introitus Apertus ad Occlusum +Regis Palatium</i>. In 1645, still following the direct +command of Lucifer, he departed for America. Here +he met the apothecary George Starkey, and in his +presence performed the alchemical feat of making gold +(p. 179).<a name="FNanchor_29_29" id="FNanchor_29_29"></a><a href="#Footnote_29_29" class="fnanchor">[29]</a> Here, too, he lived amongst the Lenni-Lennaps, +where he was united to the demon Venus-Astarte +in the form of a beautiful woman, who after +eleven days bore him a daughter. This girl was brought +up among the Lenni-Lennaps under the name of Diana +Wulisso-Waghan, and became Miss Diana Vaughan's +great-great-grandmother (p. 181). In 1648 Vaughan +returned to England, and after composing the +masonic degree of Master in 1649 (p. 197), he began +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xlvi" id="Page_xlvi">[xlvi]</a></span> +the publication of a series of alchemical and, in +reality, Luciferian writings. In 1650 appeared the +<i>Anthroposophia Theomagica</i> and the <i>Magia Adamica</i>, +in 1651 the <i>Lumen de Lumine</i>; in 1652 the <i>Aula +Lucis</i> (p. 211). In 1654 Valentin Andreae died, and +Vaughan succeeded him as <i>Summus Magister</i> of the +Rosie Cross, the event being announced to him by +the homage of three demons, Leviathan, Cerberus, +and Belphegor (p. 214). In 1655 he published his +<i>Euphrates</i>, and in 1656 made his head-quarters at +Amsterdam or Eirenaeopolis. In 1659 came his +<i>Fraternity of R. C.</i>; in 1664 his <i>Medulla Alchymiae</i>.<a name="FNanchor_30_30" id="FNanchor_30_30"></a><a href="#Footnote_30_30" class="fnanchor">[30]</a> +In 1666 he exhibited the philosopher's stone to +Helvetius at La Haye and converted him to +occultism: in 1667 he at last resolved to publish his +Opus Magnum, the <i>Introitus Apertus</i>, already +written in 1645 (p. 215). In 1668 this was followed +by the <i>Experimenta de Praeparatione Mercurii +Sophici</i> and the <i>Tractatus Tres</i> (p. 236). The time +was now approaching when Vaughan, in fulfilment of +the pact of 1644, must disappear from earth. He +named Charles Blount as his successor (p. 237), and +was granted a magical vision of his grandson, the +child of Diana Wulisso-Waghan and a Lenni-Lennap +(p. 239). He finished his <i>Memoirs</i>, published +the <i>Ripley Revised</i><a name="FNanchor_31_31" id="FNanchor_31_31"></a><a href="#Footnote_31_31" class="fnanchor">[31]</a> +and the <i>Enarratio Methodica +trium Gebri Medicinarum</i>, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xlvii" id="Page_xlvii">[xlvii]</a></span> +left his poems to his +brother Henry, who published them in the next year +as the <i>Thalia Rediviva</i>,<a name="FNanchor_32_32" id="FNanchor_32_32"></a><a href="#Footnote_32_32" class="fnanchor">[32]</a> and on March 25, 1678, +disappeared in the company of <i>Lucifer Dieu-Bon</i> +himself (p. 240). This event is vouched for, not +only by a written statement of Henry Vaughan +(p. 114), but also by the existence in a masonic +triangle at Valetta of a magical talisman into which, +when properly evoked, the spirit of Philalethes +enters and records his glorious end for the edification +of the Luciferians present<a name="FNanchor_33_33" id="FNanchor_33_33"></a><a href="#Footnote_33_33" class="fnanchor">[33]</a> (p. 243).</p> + +<p>I fear that I have taken Miss Vaughan with undue +seriousness. Her account of Thomas Vaughan is not +only unsupported by direct evidence,<a name="FNanchor_34_34" id="FNanchor_34_34"></a><a href="#Footnote_34_34" class="fnanchor">[34]</a> but much of it<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xlviii" id="Page_xlviii">[xlviii]</a></span> +is of a character which we should not be justified in +accepting, even were direct evidence forthcoming. +And it is all discordant with the little that we do +happen to know of Thomas Vaughan from other +sources. The whole thing is, in fact, a pretty obvious +romance of very modern fabrication. It appears to +have been compiled from such information as to the +alchemical and mystical writers of the seventeenth +century as was within the reach of Albert Pike +and the brothers Vaughan about the year 1870.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xlix" id="Page_xlix">[xlix]</a></span><a name="FNanchor_35_35" id="FNanchor_35_35"></a><a href="#Footnote_35_35" class="fnanchor">[35]</a> +It is always better to explain than to refute an error; +and the nature of the Luciferian tradition of Thomas +Vaughan is pretty clearly shown by the fact that it is +not corroborated in a single particular by any of the +new facts about him that have come to light since this +probable date of its composition.<a name="FNanchor_36_36" id="FNanchor_36_36"></a><a href="#Footnote_36_36" class="fnanchor">[36]</a> The fabricator put +Thomas Vaughan's birth-place in Monmouth instead +of Brecon, because he had never seen Dr. Grosart's +<i>Fuller Worthies</i> Edition of Henry Vaughan. He +makes no mention of any of the facts contained in +Sloane MS. 1741, because that MS. was still +unknown. And, most fatal of all, he puts Thomas +Vaughan's birth in 1612 instead of 1621-2, because +Foster's <i>Alumni Oxonienses</i> being yet unpublished, +he was ignorant of the record of that date preserved +in the University Registers. But we can go +a step further. We can confute him, not only by +pointing to the books he did not use, but by pointing +to those he did. It has already been shown that the +ascription to Vaughan of the English translation of +Maier's <i>Themis Aurea</i> is due to a misunderstanding<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_l" id="Page_l">[l]</a></span> +of a phrase used by Anthony à Wood. The <i>Athenae +Oxonienses</i> then was one source of the compilation. +Another was the <i>Histoire de la Philosophie +Hermétique</i>, written by Lenglet-Dufresnoy in 1742. +Here is the proof. Miss Vaughan supports her +statement as to the birth-date in 1612 by a quotation +from the <i>Introitus Apertus</i>, in which the writer +states it to have been composed "en l'an 1645 de +notre salut, et le trente-troisième de mon age." This +she professes to translate from the <i>editio princeps</i> +published by Jean Lange in 1667. As a matter of +fact it is taken from the version given in Lenglet-Dufresnoy's +book. And Lenglet-Dufresnoy followed, +not the edition of 1667, but the later edition published +by J. M. Faust at Frankfort in 1706. In this +the words are "trigesimo tertio," whereas in the +<i>editio princeps</i> they are "vicesimo tertio," and in +W. Cooper's English translation of 1669, "in the 23rd +year of my age," thus bringing the date of the birth +of Eirenaeus Philalethes not to 1612, but to 1622. +The "legend of Philalethes" need detain us no +longer. Miss Vaughan's narrative is a very insufficient +basis for regarding the pious minister and +mystic which Thomas Vaughan appears to have +been as a secret enemy of Christianity and a worshipper of Lucifer.</p> + +<p>But when the legend is set aside, there still remain +certain questions suggested by it which may be considered +without much reference to the statements of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_li" id="Page_li">[li]</a></span> +Miss Vaughan. Was Thomas Vaughan a Rosicrucian? +And was he, admittedly the author of a +series of tracts under the name of Eugenius Philalethes, +also the author of those which bear the name of +Eirenaeus Philalethes? The first question is, I am +afraid, insoluble, until it has been decided whether +the Fraternity of R. C. ever had an actual existence. +Anthony à Wood states that Thomas Vaughan was a +zealous Rosicrucian, but probably Anthony à Wood +took the term in the general sense of mystic and +alchemist. On the other hand Vaughan himself, in +his preface to the English translation of the Rosicrucian +manifestoes, seems to disavow any personal +acquaintance with the members of the fraternity. +Even this is not conclusive, for the Rosicrucian rule, +as given in the <i>Laws of the Brotherhood</i>, published +by Sincerus Renatus in 1710,<a name="FNanchor_37_37" id="FNanchor_37_37"></a><a href="#Footnote_37_37" class="fnanchor">[37]</a> obliges the +members to deny their membership.</p> + +<p>There is more material for the discussion of the +second question, but I do not know that it is more +possible to come to a definite conclusion. The +personality of the anonymous adept who took +the name of Eirenaeus Philalethes was shrouded in +mystery even to his contemporaries. The fullest +account given of him on any of his title-pages is on +that of the <i>Experimenta de Praeparatione Mercurii +Sophici</i> (1668), which is said to be "ex manuscripto<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_lii" id="Page_lii">[lii]</a></span> +Philosophi Americani alias Eyrenaei Philalethis, +natu Angli, habitatione Cosmopolitae."<a name="FNanchor_38_38" id="FNanchor_38_38"></a><a href="#Footnote_38_38" class="fnanchor">[38]</a> We have +also the description given by George Starkey, or +whoever it was, in the <i>Marrow of Alchemy</i> (1654-5), +p. 25. Starkey says:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"His present place in which he doth abide<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I know not, for the world he walks about,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of which he is a citizen; this tide<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He is to visit artists and seek out<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Antiquities a voyage gone and will<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Return when he of travel hath his fill.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"By nation an Englishman, of note<br /></span> +<span class="i2">His family is in the place where he<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was born, his fortune's good, and eke his coat<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of arms is of a great antiquity;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">His learning rare, his years scarce thirty-three;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Fuller description get you not from me."<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_liii" id="Page_liii">[liii]</a></span></p> +<p>Starkey gives the age of Eirenaeus Philalethes as +33 in 1654. This precisely confirms the writer's own +statement in the earlier editions of the <i>Introitus +Apertus</i> that he was 23 in 1645, and fixes the birth-date +as 1621 or 1622. Now this agrees remarkably +with the birth-date ascertained from other sources of +Thomas Vaughan. But Thomas died in 1666, and +it is usually asserted that Eirenaeus Philalethes lived +until at least 1678. Miss Vaughan states that he +must have been alive in that year, because he then +published the <i>Ripley Revived</i>, and the <i>Enarratio +Trium Gebri Medicinarum</i>. She declares that the +author of the <i>Enarratio</i> mentions the pains taken +about that edition (p. 240). I do not find any prefatory +matter in this book at all. There is a preface +to the <i>Ripley Revived</i>, but this was written long +before 1678, for it mentions the <i>Introitus Apertus</i>, +published in 1667, as still in manuscript. Neither +Jean Lange, the editor of the <i>Introitus Apertus</i> of +1667, writing 9th December, 1666, nor William +Cooper, the editor of the English translation<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_liv" id="Page_liv">[liv]</a></span><a name="FNanchor_39_39" id="FNanchor_39_39"></a><a href="#Footnote_39_39" class="fnanchor">[39]</a> +of 1669, writing 15th September, 1668, know +whether the author is still alive. In fact he cannot +be shown to have outlived Thomas Vaughan, for there +is no proof that the adept who showed the philosopher's +stone to Helvetius on December 27th, 1666,<a name="FNanchor_40_40" id="FNanchor_40_40"></a><a href="#Footnote_40_40" class="fnanchor">[40]</a> +was the same as he who showed it to George +Starkey many years before. I will briefly enumerate +a few other links which connect Eirenaeus Philalethes +with Thomas Vaughan. A German translation of +the <i>Introitus Apertus</i>, published at Hamburg under +the title of <i>Abyssus Alchemiae</i> (1704), is said on the +title-page to be "von T. de Vagan." Miss Vaughan +states that a similar translation of the first of the +<i>Tres Tractatus</i>, published at Hamburg in 1705, also +bears this name (p. 237), and this is borne out by +Lenglet-Dufresnoy (iii. 261-6), who speaks of a +French MS. of the <i>Tres Tractatus</i> inscribed "par +Thomas de Vagan, dit Philalèthe ou Martin Birrhius." +Birrhius, however, was only the editor. These ascriptions +are probably made on the authority of G. W. +Wedelius, who in his preface, dated 2nd Sept., 1698, +to an edition of the <i>Introitus Apertus</i>, published at +Jena in 1699, says of the author:—"Ex Anglia +tamen vulgo habetur oriundus ... et Thomas De +Vagan appellatus." The English <i>Three Tracts</i> +(1694) are stated on the title-page to have been<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_lv" id="Page_lv">[lv]</a></span> +written in Latin by Eirenaeus Philalethes; but there +is a note in the British Museum Catalogue to the +effect that the Latin original has the name <i>Eugenius</i> +Philalethes. Unfortunately this Latin <i>Tres Tractatus</i>, +published in 1668 by Martin Birrhius at Amsterdam, +is not in the Library, and I cannot verify the statement. +Finally, I may note that the <i>Ripley Revived</i> +(1678) has an engraved title-page by Robert +Vaughan, who also did the title-page to <i>Olor Iscanus</i>, +and that Starkey's <i>Marrow of Alchemy</i> contains, at +the end of the preface to Part ii., some lines by +William Sampson, which mention</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8">"Harry Mastix Moor<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who judged of Nature when he did not know her";<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>clearly an allusion to More's controversy with +Thomas Vaughan.</p> + +<p>It will be seen that there is some <i>primâ facie</i> +evidence for identifying Eirenaeus Philalethes with +Thomas Vaughan, whereas he was probably not +George Starkey (Eirenaeus Philoponos Philalethes), +and cannot be shown to have been anyone else. But +I am not satisfied. We do not know that Thomas +Vaughan was ever in America, and there is the strong +evidence of Anthony à Wood, who distinguishes +between Eirenaeus and Eugenius, and who appears +to have had information from Henry Vaughan himself. +Mr. A. E. Waite argues against the identification +on the ground that Eirenaeus Philalethes was a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_lvi" id="Page_lvi">[lvi]</a></span> +"physical alchemist," whereas Thomas Vaughan's +alchemy was spiritual and mystical. But we have +Vaughan's authority for saying that he had pursued +the physical alchemy also.<a name="FNanchor_41_41" id="FNanchor_41_41"></a><a href="#Footnote_41_41" class="fnanchor">[41]</a> And he was clearly doing +so when he wrote Sloane MS. 1741. A more +pertinent objection is perhaps that Eirenaeus Philalethes +appears to have been in possession of the +grand secret when he wrote the <i>Introitus Apertus</i> in +1645, whereas Thomas Vaughan was still seeking it +in 1658. To pursue the matter further would require +a wide knowledge of the alchemical writings of the +seventeenth century, which unfortunately I do not +possess.<a name="FNanchor_42_42" id="FNanchor_42_42"></a><a href="#Footnote_42_42" class="fnanchor">[42]</a></p> + +<p>My gratitude is due for help received in compiling +the biographical and other notes in these volumes to +Dr. Grosart, Mr. C. H. Firth, Mr. W. C. Hazlitt, +Mr. A. E. Waite, and the Rev. Llewellyn Thomas; +notably to Miss G. E. F. Morgan of Brecon, whose +knowledge of local genealogy and antiquities has +been invaluable.</p> + +<p> + July, 1896.<span class='smcap' style='margin-left:20em;'>E. K. Chambers.</span> +</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> + +<h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + + <div class="footnote"> + <p> + <a name="Footnote_1_1" id="Footnote_1_1"></a> + <a href="#FNanchor_1_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> + Dr. Grosart, however, says (ii. 298), "In all the pedigrees + that have been submitted to me, Thomas is placed as the first + of the twins." But, as Henry inherited Newton, and Thomas + took orders, Anthony à Wood is probably right. + </p> + </div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_2_2" id="Footnote_2_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_2"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> The tombstone says 73. G. T. Clark repeats Jones' error.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_3_3" id="Footnote_3_3"></a><a href="#FNanchor_3_3"><span class="label">[3]</span></a> The tombstone is actually in the north aisle of the church itself.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_4_4" id="Footnote_4_4"></a><a href="#FNanchor_4_4"><span class="label">[4]</span></a> Obviously Mr. Clark has confused Lucy Jones with her +daughter, Denise Jones.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_5_5" id="Footnote_5_5"></a><a href="#FNanchor_5_5"><span class="label">[5]</span></a> This was noted by Mr W. B. Rye in <i>The Genealogist</i>, iii. +33, from the Entry Book of the Registry at Hereford. Since +then Mr. Clark of Hereford has kindly sent me, through Miss +Morgan, a copy of the bond entered into by the administratrix, +Elizabetha Vaughan de Llansanfread, and her son-in-law and +surety, Roger Prosser de Villa Brecon. The bond, or the copy, +is dated in error "30 May, 1694, et 7th Wm. iii." Administration +was granted on May 29, 1695. The inventory of the +personal property amounted to £49 4s. 0d. The witnesses are +Walter Prosser and David Thomas.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p> +<a name="Footnote_6_6" id="Footnote_6_6"></a> +<a href="#FNanchor_6_6"><span class="label">[6]</span></a> +An old alphabetical catalogue of wills in the Hereford +Registry, between 1660-1677, has the following entries:— +</p> +<p style='margin-left:2em;text-indent:0;'> +Thomas Vaughan, Lansamfread, 11 Dec., 1660.<br /> +Franca Vaughan, Lansamfread, 16 Nov., 1677. +</p> +<p style='text-indent:0'> +The wills cannot, in the present state of the Registry, be found +(<i>Genealogist</i>, iii., 33). These dates are much too early for +the poet's son and daughter-in-law; but whose are the wills?</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_7_7" id="Footnote_7_7"></a><a href="#FNanchor_7_7"><span class="label">[7]</span></a> The <i>Turberville</i> and <i>Jones</i> lines are taken +from Theophilus Jones' <i>History of Brecknockshire</i> (ii. 444), +and from Harl. MS. 2289, f. 70, respectively. Miss Morgan has kindly traced +the Prossers from the <i>Registers</i> of St. John's and St. Mary's +Churches, Brecon.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_8_8" id="Footnote_8_8"></a><a href="#FNanchor_8_8"><span class="label">[8]</span></a> Miss Morgan tells me that David Morgan David Howel's +father, Morgan ap Howel, is described in a pedigree as "of +Trenewydd in Penkelley"; and I find from Harl. MS. 2289, +ff. 84 (b), 85, that the Powells "of Newton Penkelley" were +related to the Powells of Cantreff. (<i>See</i> vol. ii., p. 57, <i>note</i>.)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_9_9" id="Footnote_9_9"></a><a href="#FNanchor_9_9"><span class="label">[9]</span></a> The will of this Charles Vaughan has been abstracted by +Mr. W. B. Rye (<i>Genealogist</i>, iii. 33) from the Hereford Will +Office. It was made 9th April, 1707, and proved 29th May, +1707. The testator is described as of Skellrog, Llansanffread, +and mention is made of his wife Margaret Powell, and of a son +William. This William, therefore, and not a grandson of Henry +Vaughan, may be the William Vaughan of Llansantffread, who +married Mary Games of Tregaer (p. xxi). Skellrog appears to +have passed to another and probably elder son, Charles.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_10_10" id="Footnote_10_10"></a><a href="#FNanchor_10_10"><span class="label">[10]</span></a> S. W. Williams, <i>Llansaintffread Church</i> in <i>Archaeologia +Cambrensis</i> (1887.)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_11_11" id="Footnote_11_11"></a><a href="#FNanchor_11_11"><span class="label">[11]</span></a> W. B. Rye in <i>Genealogist</i>, iii. 36, from Entry Book in +Hereford Will Office.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_12_12" id="Footnote_12_12"></a><a href="#FNanchor_12_12"><span class="label">[12]</span></a> An account of the part played by Beeston Castle during +the Civil War will be found in Ormerod's <i>History of Cheshire</i> +(ed. Helsby), ii. 272 <i>sqq.</i></p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_13_13" id="Footnote_13_13"></a><a href="#FNanchor_13_13"><span class="label">[13]</span></a> Gardiner, <i>The Great Civil War</i>, ch. xxxvi.; J. R. Phillips, +<i>The Civil War in Wales and the Marches</i>, i. 329; ii. 270.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_14_14" id="Footnote_14_14"></a><a href="#FNanchor_14_14"><span class="label">[14]</span></a> Ormerod, i. 243.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_15_15" id="Footnote_15_15"></a><a href="#FNanchor_15_15"><span class="label">[15]</span></a> Phillips, i. 314.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_16_16" id="Footnote_16_16"></a><a href="#FNanchor_16_16"><span class="label">[16]</span></a> Phillips, ii. 272.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_17_17" id="Footnote_17_17"></a><a href="#FNanchor_17_17"><span class="label">[17]</span></a> Both Wood and Foster give the father's name as Thomas, +but it appears to be Henry in all the pedigrees.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_18_18" id="Footnote_18_18"></a><a href="#FNanchor_18_18"><span class="label">[18]</span></a> The following list of Vaughan's admitted prose treatises is +mainly taken from Dr. Grosart:—<i>Anthroposophia Theomagica</i> +(1650); <i>Anima Magica Abscondita</i> (1650); <i>Magia Adamica</i> +with the <i>Coelum Terrae</i> (1650); <i>The Man-Mouse taken in a +Trap</i> (1650); <i>The Second Wash; or, the Moor scoured once +more</i> (1651) [These two are polemics against Henry More]; +<i>Lumen de Lumine</i>, with the <i>Aphorismi Magici Eugeniani</i> +(1651); <i>The Fame and Confession of the Fraternity of R:C:</i> +(1653); <i>Aula Lucis</i> (1652); <i>Euphrates</i> (1655); <i>Nollius' +Chymist's Key</i> (1657); <i>A Brief Natural History</i> (1669); +[Wood ascribes this to another writer, as it was not in the list +furnished him by Henry Vaughan].—Henry More's pamphlets +against Vaughan are the <i>Observations upon Anthroposophia +Theomagica and Anima Magica Abscondita</i> (1650), issued +under the name of Alazonomastix Philalethes and <i>The Second +Lash of Alazonomastix</i> (1651).</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_19_19" id="Footnote_19_19"></a><a href="#FNanchor_19_19"><span class="label">[19]</span></a> Walker falls into the curious confusion of supposing that +there were two Thomas Vaughans, one rector of Llansantffread, +the other of Newton St. Bridget. But "St. Bridget" is only +the English form of the Welsh "Santffread."</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_20_20" id="Footnote_20_20"></a><a href="#FNanchor_20_20"><span class="label">[20]</span></a> Printed from the Rawl. MSS. in Thurloe's <i>State Papers</i>, ii. 120.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_21_21" id="Footnote_21_21"></a><a href="#FNanchor_21_21"><span class="label">[21]</span></a> Is this the inn of that name once in the Gray's Inn Road? +(Cunningham and Wheatley, <i>Handbook to London</i>.)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_22_22" id="Footnote_22_22"></a><a href="#FNanchor_22_22"><span class="label">[22]</span></a> The Rev. Henry Howlett has kindly sent me the following +extract from the registers of Meppershall:— +</p><p class='center' style="text-indent:0;"> +"1658.<br /> +Buried.<br /> +Rebecka, the Wife of Mr. Vahanne<br /> +the 26th of Aprill." +</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_23_23" id="Footnote_23_23"></a><a href="#FNanchor_23_23"><span class="label">[23]</span></a> An entire literature has grown up in Paris during the last +year around the question whether the cultus of Lucifer is +practised in certain Masonic Lodges. A number of Catholic +journalists and pamphleteers assert very categorically that this +is the case, that the centre of this cultus, containing the full +Luciferian initiates, is the 33<span class='super'>rd</span> degree of a so-called New and +Reformed Palladian Rite, having its head-quarters at Charlestown, +and that the chiefs of this Rite have obtained a controlling +influence over the whole of Freemasonry. The creed is +described as Manichaean in character, with Lucifer as Dieu-Bon +and Adonai, the God of the Catholics, as Dieu-Mauvais. +Adonai is the principle of asceticism, Lucifer of natural +humanity and <i>la joie de vivre</i>. The rituals and the accepted +interpretation of the Masonic symbolism used in the lodges, or +"triangles," are of a phallic type. Women are admitted to +membership. Immorality, a parody of the Eucharist, known +as the black mass, and the practice of black magic, take place +at the meetings. Lucifer is worshipped in the form of +Baphomet, but from time to time he is personally evoked, and +manifested to his followers. Luciferianism tends to become +identical with Satanism, in which Lucifer and Satan are +identified and frankly worshipped as evil. The first mention +of Luciferian Freemasonry was in the <i>Y-a-t-il des Femmes +dans la Franc Maçonnerie?</i> (1891), of the somewhat notorious +Leo Taxil. But the case rests mainly on the alleged revelations +of writers who claim to have themselves been members of +the Palladian Rite. The chief of these are Dr. Hacke or +Bataille, Signor Margiotta and Miss Diana Vaughan. +Unfortunately very little evidence is forthcoming as to the +identity of any of these personages. Many leading Masons, +<i>e.g.</i>, M. Papus in his <i>Le Diable et l'Occultisme</i>, deny that +Luciferian Freemasonry exists at all, and it is freely stated +(<i>cf.</i> <i>Light</i> for 27 June and 4 July, 1896, pp. 305, 322) +that Miss Diana Vaughan is a myth, and that her <i>Mémoires</i> +with the rest of the revelations are the ingenious concoction +of a band of irresponsible journalists of whom +Leo Taxil is the chief. No one appears to have seen +Miss Vaughan, and she is alleged to be hiding in some +convent from the vengeance of the Luciferians. Probably +there will be some further light thrown on the matter before +long: in the meantime a good summary of the evidence up-to-date +may be found in A. E. Waite's <i>Devil-Worship in France</i> +(1896). Assuming that Luciferianism really exists, I do not +for a moment believe that it has the antiquity which Miss +Vaughan claims for it. The various Rites of modern Freemasonry, +with their fantastic and high-sounding degrees, are +comparatively recent excrescences upon the original Craft +Masonry. The New and Reformed Palladian Rite is said to +have been founded at Charlestown by the well-known Mason, +Albert Pike, in 1870. It is based on the Ancient and +Accepted Scottish Rite, which dates from the beginning of the +century. If there is such a thing as Luciferianism, I do not +think we need look further back than 1870 for its origin. As +expounded by Miss Vaughan and others, it is pretty clearly a +compilation from Eliphaz Levi and other occultist and +Cabbalistic writers, with a good deal of modern American +Spiritualism thrown in. Albert Pike, a man of considerable +learning, could easily have invented it. Masonic symbolism +lends itself readily enough to a wide range of interpretations. +I do not say that seventeenth-century occultism has left no +traces upon Freemasonry which modern ritual-mongers may +have elaborated; but it is a far cry from this to the belief +that Thomas Vaughan and Luther were Manichaean worshippers +of Lucifer and Protestantism an organized warfare +on Adonai.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_24_24" id="Footnote_24_24"></a><a href="#FNanchor_24_24"><span class="label">[24]</span></a> Miss Vaughan quotes from Allibone's <i>History of English +Literature</i>. Allibone only repeats Anthony à Wood's account.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_25_25" id="Footnote_25_25"></a><a href="#FNanchor_25_25"><span class="label">[25]</span></a> Robert Vaughan belonged to quite a different branch from +the Vaughans of Newton: and, as Sl. MS. 1741 shows, the +father of Henry and Thomas Vaughan did not die until 1658.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_26_26" id="Footnote_26_26"></a><a href="#FNanchor_26_26"><span class="label">[26]</span></a> Miss Vaughan gives an elaborate account of the Rosicrucians +and of their famous manifestoes, which I have no room to reproduce.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_27_27" id="Footnote_27_27"></a><a href="#FNanchor_27_27"><span class="label">[27]</span></a> Miss Vaughan states that Thomas Vaughan signed "not +<i>Eugenius Philalethes</i>, but <i>Eirenaeus Philalethes</i>" (p. 114). +But she ascribes to him the <i>Anthroposophia Theomagica</i> and +other writings which are signed, though she does not mention +it, <i>Eugenius Philalethes</i> (p. 211). She quotes from Anthony +à Wood the assertion, which he does not make, that the +English translations of the <i>Fama Fraternitatis Rosae Crucis</i> +(1652) and of Maier's <i>Themis Aurea</i> (1656) both bear the name +of Eugenius, and were by another Thomas Vaughan! The +manuscripts of both are, she says, signed <i>Eirenaeus</i> (p. 163). +What Wood says is that he has seen a translation of Maier's +tract, dedicated to Elias Ashmole by [N. L.]/[T. S.] H. S., and that +Ashmole has forgotten whose the initials are. He does not +suggest that this translation is by a Thomas Vaughan. (<i>Ath. +Oxon.</i>, iii. 724.)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_28_28" id="Footnote_28_28"></a><a href="#FNanchor_28_28"><span class="label">[28]</span></a> This episode has previously done duty in the <i>Vingt Ans +Après</i> (vol. iii., ch. 8-10), of Alexandre Dumas, in which +Mordaunt acts as the executioner of Charles. There is a +Latin poem amongst Vaughan's remains in <i>Thalia Rediviva</i> +entitled <i>Epitaphium Gulielmi Laud Episcopi Cantuariensis</i>, +full of sorrow for the archbishop's death.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_29_29" id="Footnote_29_29"></a><a href="#FNanchor_29_29"><span class="label">[29]</span></a> Miss Vaughan refers to Lenglet-Dufresnoy's <i>Histoire de la +Philosophie Hermétique</i> as an authority on Starkey's relations +with Eirenaeus Philalethes. Lenglet-Dufresnoy probably took +his account from <i>The Marrow of Alchemy</i> (1654-5). The +prefaces to this are signed with anagrams of George Starkey's +name. But he ascribes the poem to a friend, who is called in +the <i>Breve Manuductorium ad Campum Sophiae</i> Agricola +Rhomaeus. Perhaps Starkey himself was the real author. +The title-page has the name Eirenaeus Philoponus Philalethes, +apparently a distinct designation from that of Eirenaeus Philalethes.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_30_30" id="Footnote_30_30"></a><a href="#FNanchor_30_30"><span class="label">[30]</span></a> The <i>Medulla Alchemiae</i> (1664) is only a Latin translation +of the <i>Marrow of Alchemy</i> (1654-5) of Eirenaeus Philoponos Philalethes.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_31_31" id="Footnote_31_31"></a><a href="#FNanchor_31_31"><span class="label">[31]</span></a> The actual name of the tract is <i>Ripley Revived</i>.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_32_32" id="Footnote_32_32"></a><a href="#FNanchor_32_32"><span class="label">[32]</span></a> The <i>Thalia Rediviva</i> was actually published in 1678, not 1679.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_33_33" id="Footnote_33_33"></a><a href="#FNanchor_33_33"><span class="label">[33]</span></a> Miss Vaughan has herself witnessed this, in the presence of +Lucifer. Moreover, the spirit of Philalethes has appeared, +and conversed with her (pp. 257-267).</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_34_34" id="Footnote_34_34"></a><a href="#FNanchor_34_34"><span class="label">[34]</span></a> Miss Vaughan refers to several family documents, but does +not offer them for inspection. They include (<i>a</i>) the will of her +grandfather James, enumerating the proofs of his descent +(p. 111); (<i>b</i>) the autobiographical Memoirs of Philalethes, from +which Miss Vaughan quotes largely (pp. 174, 240); (<i>c</i>) a letter +from Fludd to Andreae (pp. 114, 149); (<i>d</i>) a MS. of the +<i>Introitus Apertus</i>, of which the margin has been covered by +Vaughan with a comment for Luciferian initiates (pp. 111, 217, +225); (<i>e</i>) a letter from Andreae in the archives of the Sovereign +Patriarchal Council of Hamburg (p. 197); (<i>f</i>) Henry Vaughan's +account of his brother's disappearance in the archives of +the Supreme Dogmatic Directory of Charleston (p. 114); +(<i>g</i>) Masonic rituals in the archives of Masonic chapters at +Bristol and Gibraltar (p. 200); (<i>h</i>) Rosicrucian rituals drawn +up by one Nick Stone in the hands of Dr. W. W. W[estcott] +of London (p. 141). The documents in Masonic hands are +presumably, like the Valetta talisman, now out of Miss +Vaughan's reach. A communication signed Q. V. in <i>Light</i> for +May 16, 1896, denies, on Dr. Westcott's authority, that his +rituals have anything to do with Nick Stone, or that Miss +Vaughan ever saw them. Dr. Westcott is the head of the +modern <i>Societas Rosicruciana in Anglia</i>. This body does not +even pretend to be the <i>Fraternity of R. C.</i> Finally, there +is (<i>i</i>) Thomas Vaughan's original pact with Lucifer, now, +according to Miss Vaughan, in holy hands, and to be destroyed +on the day she takes the veil.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_35_35" id="Footnote_35_35"></a><a href="#FNanchor_35_35"><span class="label">[35]</span></a> Miss Vaughan somewhat naïvely gives us a lead. After +describing Thomas Vaughan's sojourn with Venus-Astarte +among the Lenni-Lennaps, she adds: "This legend is not +accepted by all the Elect Mages; there are those who regard +it as fabricated by my grandfather James of Boston, who was, +they believe, of Delaware origin, or, at any rate, a half-breed; +and they even assert that, in the desire to Anglicize himself, he +invented an entirely false genealogy, by way of justifying his +change of the Lennap name Waghan into Vaughan. Herein +the opponents of the Luciferian legend of Thomas Vaughan go +too far" (p. 181).</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_36_36" id="Footnote_36_36"></a><a href="#FNanchor_36_36"><span class="label">[36]</span></a> I have already pointed out that Miss Vaughan is quite +possibly a myth. But, if she exists, I do not see any reason to +suppose that she personally invented the "legend of Philalethes." +It lies between Leo Taxil and his friends in 1895, and +the alleged founders of Palladism in or about 1870, that is Albert +Pike and Miss Vaughan's father and uncle. And, so far as it +goes, the ignorance shown in the legend of all books published +in the last twenty years is evidence for the earlier date, and therefore, +to some extent, for the actual existence of Luciferianism.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_37_37" id="Footnote_37_37"></a> +<a href="#FNanchor_37_37"><span class="label">[37]</span></a> +<i>Cf.</i> A. E. Waite, <i>Real History of the Rosicrucians</i>, p. 274. +</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_38_38" id="Footnote_38_38"></a><a href="#FNanchor_38_38"><span class="label">[38]</span></a> The principal writings ascribed to Eirenaeus Philalethes +are <i>Introitus Apertus in Occlusum Regis Palatium</i> (1667), +<i>Tres Tractatus</i> (1668), <i>Experimenta de Praeparatione Mercurii +Sophici</i> (1668), <i>Ripley Revived</i> (1678), <i>Enarratio Trium +Gebri Medicinarum</i> (1678). The works of Eirenaeus Philoponos +Philalethes (George Starkey?) are often attributed to +him in error. The B. M. Catalogue, s.vv. <i>Philaletha, Philalethes</i>, +is a mass of confusions. Lenglet-Dufresnoy, <i>Histoire +de la Philosophie Hermétique</i> (iii. 261-266), gives a long list of +printed and manuscript works. Most of these he had probably +never seen. He probably took many items in his list from one +in J. M. Faust's edition of the <i>Introitus Apertus</i> (Frankfort, +1706); and this, in its turn, was based on what Eirenaeus +Philalethes himself says he has written in the preface to <i>Ripley +Revived</i>. He there says, after naming other works: "Two +English Poems I wrote, declaring the whole secret, which are +lost. Also an Enchiridion of Experiments, together with a +Diurnal of Meditations, in which were many Philosophical +receipts, declaring the whole secret, with an Aenigma annexed; +which also fell into such hands which I conceive will never +restore it. This last was written in English." Can this Enchiridion +and Diurnal be Sl. MS. 1741? I find no "Aenigma." +Can Starkey have stolen the poems and published them as the +<i>Marrow of Alchemy</i>?</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_39_39" id="Footnote_39_39"></a><a href="#FNanchor_39_39"><span class="label">[39]</span></a> The preface to <i>Ripley Revived</i> makes it clear that the +<i>Introitus Apertus</i> was originally written in Latin, not in English.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_40_40" id="Footnote_40_40"></a><a href="#FNanchor_40_40"><span class="label">[40]</span></a> This is recorded in Helvetius' <i>Vitulus Aureus</i> (1667). +Helvetius describes his master as 43 or 44 years old, and calls +him Elias Artistes.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_41_41" id="Footnote_41_41"></a><a href="#FNanchor_41_41"><span class="label">[41]</span></a> <i>See</i> the passage from the Epistle to <i>Euphrates</i>, quoted by +Grosart (Vol. ii., p. 312).</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_42_42" id="Footnote_42_42"></a><a href="#FNanchor_42_42"><span class="label">[42]</span></a> The "legend of Philalethes" has already been exposed +by Mr. A. E. Waite in his <i>Devil Worship in France</i> (ch. xiii.). +I am also indebted to what Mr. Waite has written on Eirenaeus +Philalethes in that book, as well as in his <i>True History of the +Rosicrucians</i> (1887) and his +<i>Lives of Alchymistical Philosophers</i> (1888).</p></div> +</div> + + +<hr class="major" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_lvii" id="Page_lvii">[lvii]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="BIBLIOGRAPHY_OF_HENRY_VAUGHANS_WORKS" id="BIBLIOGRAPHY_OF_HENRY_VAUGHANS_WORKS"></a>BIBLIOGRAPHY OF HENRY VAUGHAN'S WORKS.</h2> +<hr class='head' /> + +<h3>(1)</h3> + +<p>POEMS, | WITH | The tenth SATYRE of | IUVENAL | +ENGLISHED. | By <i>Henry Vaughan</i>, Gent. |—<i>Tam nil, +nulla tibi vendo</i> | <i>Illiade</i>—| <i>LONDON</i>, | Printed for <i>G. +Badger</i>, and are to be sold at his | shop under Saint <i>Dunstan's</i> +Church in | Fleet-street. 1646. [8<span class='super'>vo</span>.]</p> + +<p>The translation from Juvenal has a separate title-page.</p> + +<p>IVVENAL'S | TENTH | SATYRE | TRANSLATED. | +<i>Nèc verbum verbo curabit reddere fidus</i> | <i>Interpres</i>—| +<i>LONDON</i>, | Printed for G. B., and are to be sold at his +Shop | under Saint <i>Dunstan's</i> Church. 1646.</p> + + +<h3>(2)</h3> + +<p>[Emblem] | Silex Scintillans: | <i>or</i> | <i>SACRED POEMS</i> | +<i>and</i> | <i>Priuate Eiaculations</i> | <i>By</i> | Henry Vaughan <i>Silurist</i> | +LONDON | <i>Printed by T. W. for H. Blunden</i> | <i>at ye Castle +in Cornehill.</i> 1650. [8<span class='super'>vo</span>.]</p> + + +<h3>(3)</h3> + +<p><i>OLOR ISCANUS.</i> | A COLLECTION | OF SOME SELECT | +POEMS, | AND | TRANSLATIONS, | Formerly +written by | <i>Mr.</i> Henry Vaughan <i>Silurist</i>. | Published by a +Friend. | Virg. Georg. | <i>Flumina amo, Sylvasq. Inglorius</i>—| +LONDON | Printed by <i>T. W.</i> for <i>Humphrey Moseley</i>, | and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_lviii" id="Page_lviii">[lviii]</a></span> +are to be sold at his shop, at the | Signe of the Princes Arms +in St. <i>Pauls</i> | Church-yard, 1651. [8<span class='super'>vo</span>.]</p> + +<p>The Preface is dated "Newton by Usk this 17 of Decemb. 1647."</p> + +<p>The prose translations in this volume have separate title-pages:</p> + +<p>(<i>a</i>) OF THE | BENEFIT | Wee may get by our | +ENEMIES. | A DISCOURSE | Written originally in the | +Greek by <i>Plutarchus Chaeronensis</i>, | translated in to Latin by +<i>I. Reynolds</i> Dr. | of Divinitie and lecturer of the Greeke +Tongue | In <i>Corpus Christi</i> College In <i>Oxford</i>. | <i>Englished By</i> +H: V: <i>Silurist</i>. |—<i>Dolus, an virtus quis in hoste requirat.</i> |—<i>fas +est, et ab hoste doceri.</i> | LONDON. | Printed for +<i>Humphry Moseley</i> [etc.].</p> + +<p>(<i>b</i>) OF THE | DISEASES | OF THE | MIND | And +the BODY. | A DISCOURSE | Written originally in the | +Greek by <i>Plutarchus Chaeronensis</i>, | put in to latine by <i>I. +Reynolds D.D.</i> | Englished by <i>H: V:</i> Silurist. | <i>Omnia +perversae poterunt Corrumpere mentes.</i> | LONDON. | +Printed for <i>Humphry Moseley</i> [etc.].</p> + +<p>(<i>c</i>) OF THE DISEASES | OF THE | MIND, | AND +THE | BODY, | and which of them is | most pernicious. | The +Question stated, and decided | by <i>Maximus Tirius</i>, a Platonick +Philosopher, written originally in | the Greek, put into +Latine by | <i>John Reynolds</i> D.D. | <i>Englished</i> by Henry +Vaughan <i>Silurist</i>. | LONDON, | Printed for <i>Humphry +Moseley</i> [etc.].</p> + +<p>(<i>d</i>) THE | PRAISE | AND | HAPPINESSE | OF THE +| <i>COUNTRIE-LIFE</i>; | Written Originally in | <i>Spanish</i> by +<i>Don Antonio de Guevara</i>, | Bishop of <i>Carthagena</i>, and | +Counsellour of Estate to | <i>Charls</i> the Fifth Emperour | of +<i>Germany</i>. |<i>Put into English by</i> H. Vaughan <i>Silurist.</i> | +Virgil. Georg. | <i>O fortunatos nimiùm, bona si sua nôrint</i>, | +<i>Agricolas!</i>—| LONDON, | Printed for <i>Humphry +Moseley</i> [etc.]. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_lix" id="Page_lix">[lix]</a></span> +</p> + + +<h3>(4)</h3> + +<p>THE | MOUNT of OLIVES: | OR, | SOLITARY +DEVOTIONS. | By | HENRY VAUGHAN <i>Silurist</i>. | +With | An excellent Discourse of the | blessed State of MAN +in GLORY, | written by the most Reverend and | holy Father +ANSELM Arch-| Bishop of <i>Canterbury</i>, and now | done into +English. | Luke 21, v. 39, 37. | [quoted in full]. | LONDON, +Printed for WILLIAM LEAKE at the | Crown in Fleet-Street +between the two | Temple-Gates. 1652 [12<span class='super'>mo</span>].</p> + +<p>The preface is dated "Newton by Usk this first of October 1651."</p> + +<p>The translation from Anselm has a separate title-page:</p> + +<p>MAN | IN | GLORY: | OR, | A Discourse of the blessed +| state of the Saints in the | New JERUSALEM. | Written +in Latin by the most | Reverend and holy Father | +<i>ANSELMUS</i> | Archbishop of <i>Canterbury</i>, and now | done +into English. | Printed <i>Anno Dom.</i> 1652.</p> + + +<h3>(5)</h3> + +<p><i>Flores Solitudinis.</i> | Certaine Rare and Elegant | +PIECES; | <i>Viz.</i> | Two Excellent Discourses | Of 1. <i>Temperance, +and Patience</i>; | 2. <i>Life and Death</i>. | BY | <i>I. E.</i> +NIEREMBERGIUS. | THE WORLD | CONTEMNED; +| BY | EUCHERIUS, Bp. of LYONS. | And the Life of +| PAULINUS, | Bp. of <i>NOLA</i>. | Collected in his Sicknesse +and Retirement, | BY | <i>HENRY VAUGHAN</i>, Silurist. | +<i>Tantus Amor Florum, & generandi gloria Mellis.</i> | <i>London</i>, +Printed for <i>Humphry Moseley</i> at the | <i>Princes Armes</i> in St. +<i>Pauls</i> Church-yard. 1654. [12<span class='super'>mo</span>.]</p> + +<p>The Preface is dated "Newton by Usk, in South-Wales, +April 17, 1652." The pieces have separate title-pages:</p> + +<p>(<i>a</i>) Two Excellent | DISCOURSES | Of 1. Temperance +and Patience. | 2. Life and Death. | Written in Latin by | +<i>Johan: Euseb: Nierembergius</i>. | Englished by | HENRY +VAUGHAN, Silurist. | ... <i>Mors vitam temperet, &</i> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_lx" id="Page_lx">[lx]</a></span> +<i>vita Mortem</i>. | <i>LONDON:</i> | Printed for <i>Humphrey Moseley</i>, etc.</p> + +<p>The Preface is dated "Newton by Uske neare Sketh-Rock. 1653."</p> + +<p>(<i>b</i>) THE WORLD | CONTEMNED, | IN A | Parenetical +Epistle written by | the Reverend Father | <i>EUCHERIUS</i>, +| Bishop of <i>Lyons</i>, to his Kinsman | <i>VALERIANUS</i>. | +[Texts] | <i>London</i>, Printed for <i>Humphrey Moseley</i> [etc.].</p> + +<p>(<i>c</i>) Primitive Holiness, | Set forth in the | LIFE | of +blessed | PAULINUS, | The most Reverend, and | Learned +BISHOP of | <i>NOLA</i>: | Collected out of his own Works, | +and other Primitive Authors by | <i>Henry Vaughan</i>, Silurist. | +2 Kings <i>cap.</i> 2. <i>ver.</i> 12 | <i>My Father, my Father, the Chariot +of</i> | Israel, <i>and the Horsmen thereof.</i> | <i>LONDON</i>, | Printed +for <i>Humphry Moseley</i> [etc.].</p> + + +<h3>(6)</h3> + +<p>Silex Scintillans: | SACRED | POEMS | And private | +EJACULATIONS. | The second Edition, In two Books; | +By <i>Henry Vaughan</i>, Silurist. | Job chap. 35 ver. 10, 11. +| [quoted in full] | <i>London</i>, Printed for <i>Henry Crips</i>, and +<i>Lodo-</i> | <i>wick Lloyd</i>, next to the Castle in <i>Cornhil</i>, | and in +<i>Popes-head Alley</i>. 1655. [8<span class='super'>vo</span>.]</p> + +<p>A reissue, with additions and a fresh title-page, of (2). +The Preface is dated "Newton by Usk, near Sketh-rock Septem. 30, 1654."</p> + + +<h3>(7)</h3> + +<p>HERMETICAL | PHYSICK: | <i>OR</i>, | The right +way to pre-| serve, and to restore | HEALTH | <i>BY</i> | That +famous and faith-| full Chymist, | <i>HENRY NOLLIUS</i>. | +Englished by | HENRY UAUGHAN, Gent. | <i>LONDON.</i> | +Printed for <i>Humphrey Moseley</i>, and | are to be sold at his shop, +at the | <i>Princes Armes</i>, in S<span class='super'>t</span> +<i>Pauls Church-Yard</i>, 1655. [12<span class='super'>mo</span>.]</p> + + +<h3>(8)</h3> + +<p><i>Thalia Rediviva:</i> | THE | <i>Pass-Times</i> and <i>Diversions</i> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_lxi" id="Page_lxi">[lxi]</a></span> +| OF A | COUNTREY-MUSE, | In Choice | POEMS | On +several Occasions. | WITH | Some Learned <i>Remains</i> of the +Eminent | <i>Eugenius Philalethes</i>. | Never made Publick till +now. |—Nec erubuit sylvas habitare Thalia. <i>Virgil.</i> | Licensed, +<i>Roger L'Estrange</i>. | <i>London</i>, Printed for <i>Robert Pawlet</i> at the +Bible in | <i>Chancery-lane</i>, near <i>Fleetstreet</i>, 1678 [8<span class='super'>vo</span>.]</p> + +<p>The Remains of Eugenius Philalethes [Thomas Vaughan] +have a separate title-page.</p> + +<p><i>Eugenii Philalethis</i>, | VIRI | INSIGNISSIMI | ET | +Poetarum | Sui Saeculi, meritò Principis: | <i>VERTUMNUS</i> | +ET | <i>CYNTHIA</i>, &c. | Q. Horat. |—<i>Qui praegravat artes +Infra se positas,</i> | <i>extinctus am[a]bitur.</i>—| <i>LONDINI</i>, | +Impensis <i>Roberti Pawlett</i>, M.DC.LXXVIII. [12<span class='super'>mo</span>.]</p> + + +<h3>(9)</h3> + +<p>Olor Iscanus. A collection of some Select Poems, Together +with these Translations following, etc. All Englished by +H. Vaughan, Silurist. London: Printed and are to be sold by +Peter Parker ... 1679. [8<span class='super'>vo</span>.]</p> + +<p>A reissue, according to Dr. Grosart (ii. 59) and W. C. Hazlitt +(<i>Supplement to Third Series Of Collections</i>, p. 106), of the 1651 +<i>Olor Iscanus</i>, with a fresh title-page. I have not seen a copy.</p> + + +<h3>(10)</h3> + +<p>[Miss L. I. Guiney writes in her essay on <i>Henry +Vaughan, the Silurist</i> (Atlantic Monthly, May, 1894): "Mr. +Carew Hazlitt has been fortunate enough to discover the +advertisement of an eighteenth-century Vaughan reprint."</p> + +<p>As to this Mr. Hazlitt writes to me: "I cannot tell where +Miss Guiney heard about the Vaughan—not certainly from me. +But there is an edition of his 'Spiritual Songs,' 8<span class='super'>vo</span>, 1706, of +which, however, I don't at present know the whereabouts."]</p> + + +<h3>(11)</h3> + +<p>Silex Scintillans: Sacred Poems and Private Ejaculations +of Henry Vaughan, with Memoir by the Rev. H. F. +Lyte. London: William Pickering, 1847. [12<span class='super'>mo</span>.]</p> + +<p>An edition of (6) and part of (8).<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_lxii" id="Page_lxii">[lxii]</a></span></p> + + +<h3>(12)</h3> + +<p>The Sacred Poems and Private Ejaculations of Henry +Vaughan, with a Memoir by the Rev. H. F. Lyte. Boston +[U. S. A.]: Little, Brown and Company, 1856. [8<span class='super'>vo</span>.]</p> + +<p>A reprint of (11).</p> + + +<h3>(13)</h3> + +<p>Silex Scintillans, etc.: Sacred Poems and Private Ejaculations, +by Henry Vaughan. London: Bell and Daldy. 1858.</p> + +<p>A reprint, with a revised text, of (11).</p> + + +<h3>(14)</h3> + +<p>The Fuller Worthies' Library. The Works in Verse and +Prose complete of Henry Vaughan, Silurist, for the first time +collected and edited: with Memorial-Introduction: Essay on +Life and Writings: and Notes: by the Rev. Alexander B. +Grosart, St. George's, Blackburn, Lancashire. In four +Volumes.... Printed for Private Circulation. 1871.</p> + +<p>A reprint of the original editions, with biographical and +critical matter. Only 50 4<span class='super'>to</span>, 106 8<span class='super'>vo</span>, and 156 12<span class='super'>mo</span> copies +printed. In Vol. II. are included the Poems of Thomas +Vaughan, with a separate title-page.</p> + +<p>The English and Latin Verse-Remains of Thomas Vaughan +('Eugenius Philalethes'), twin-brother of the Silurist. For +the first time collected and edited: with Memorial-Introduction +and Notes: by the Rev. Alexander B. Grosart [etc.].</p> + + +<h3>(15)</h3> + +<p>Silex Scintillans, etc. Sacred Poems and Pious Ejaculations. +By Henry Vaughan, "Silurist." With a Memoir +by the Rev. H. F. Lyte. Job xxxv. 10, 11 [in full]. London: +George Bell and Sons, York Street, Covent Garden. 1883. [8<span class='super'>vo</span>.]</p> + +<p>A reprint, with a text further revised, of (11) and (13), forming +a volume of the <i>Aldine Poets</i>. Since reprinted in 1891.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_lxiii" id="Page_lxiii">[lxiii]</a></span></p> + + +<h3>(16)</h3> + +<p>The Jewel Poets. Henry Vaughan. Edinburgh. Macniven +and Wallace. 1884.</p> + +<p>A selection, with a short preface by W. R. Nicoll.</p> + + +<h3>(17)</h3> + +<p>Silex Scintillans. Sacred Poems and Private Ejaculations, +by Henry Vaughan (Silurist). Being a facsimile of the +First Edition, published in 1650, with an Introduction by the +Rev. William Clare, B.A. (Adelaide). London: Elliot Stock, +62, Paternoster Row. 1885. [12<span class='super'>mo</span>.]</p> + +<p>A facsimile reprint of (2).</p> + + +<h3>(18)</h3> + +<p>Secular Poems by Henry Vaughan, Silurist. Including +a few pieces by his twin-brother Thomas ("Eugenius Philalethes"). +Selected and arranged, with Notes and Bibliography, +by J. R. Tutin, Editor of "Poems of Richard Crashaw," etc. +Hull: J. R. Tutin. 1893.</p> + +<p>A selection from Vol. II. of (14).</p> + + +<h3>(19)</h3> + +<p>The Poems of Henry Vaughan, Silurist. With an +Introduction by H. C. Beeching, Rector of Yattendon. [Publishers' +Device.] London: Lawrence and Bullen, 16, Henrietta +Street, W.C. New York: Charles Scribner's Sons, 153-157 +Fifth Avenue. 1896. [Two vols. 8<span class='super'>vo</span>.]</p> + +<p>The present edition. A hundred copies are printed on large paper.</p> + +<hr class="major" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[1]</a></span></p> + +<h2 style='line-height:2em;'> +<a name="POEMS_WITH_THE_TENTH_SATIRE_OF_JUVENAL_ENGLISHED" +id="POEMS_WITH_THE_TENTH_SATIRE_OF_JUVENAL_ENGLISHED"></a> +<span style='font-size:150%;letter-spacing:5px;'>POEMS,</span><br /> + +<span style='font-size:50%;'>WITH THE</span><br /> + + TENTH SATIRE OF JUVENAL<br /> + +<span style='font-size:90%;'> ENGLISHED.</span><br /> + +<span style='font-size:75%;'> 1646.</span><br /> +</h2> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[2]</a></span></p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[3]</a></span></p> + +<h3>TO ALL INGENIOUS LOVERS OF POESY.</h3> + +<p>Gentlemen,</p> + +<p>To you alone, whose more refined spirits +out-wing these dull times, and soar above the drudgery +of dirty intelligence, have I made sacred these +fancies: I know the years, and what coarse entertainment +they afford poetry. If any shall question +that courage that durst send me abroad so late, and +revel it thus in the dregs of an age, they have my silence: only,</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Languescente seculo, liceat ægrotari.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>My more calm ambition, amidst the common noise, +hath thus exposed me to the world: you have here +a flame, bright only in its own innocence, that +kindles nothing but a generous thought: which +though it may warm the blood, the fire at highest +is but Platonic; and the commotion, within these +limits, excludes danger. For the satire, it was of +purpose borrowed to feather some slower hours; and +what you see here is but the interest: it is one of +his whose Roman pen had as much true passion for +the infirmities of that state, as we should have pity<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[4]</a></span> +to the distractions of our own: honest—I am sure—it +is, and offensive cannot be, except it meet with such +spirits that will quarrel with antiquity, or purposely +arraign themselves. These indeed may think that +they have slept out so many centuries in this satire +and are now awakened; which, had it been still +Latin, perhaps their nap had been everlasting. But +enough of these,—it is for you only that I have adventured +thus far, and invaded the press with verse; to +whose more noble indulgence I shall now leave it, +and so am gone.—</p> + +<p style='text-align:right; margin-right:2em;'>H. V.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[5]</a></span></p> + +<hr class="major" /> + +<h3>TO MY INGENUOUS FRIEND, R. W.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When we are dead, and now, no more<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our harmless mirth, our wit, and score<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Distracts the town; when all is spent<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That the base niggard world hath lent<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy purse, or mine; when the loath'd noise<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of drawers, 'prentices and boys<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hath left us, and the clam'rous bar<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Items no pints i' th' Moon or Star;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When no calm whisp'rers wait the doors,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To fright us with forgotten scores;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And such aged long bills carry,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As might start an antiquary;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the sad tumults of the maze,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Arrests, suits, and the dreadful face<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of sergeants are not seen, and we<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No lawyers' ruffs, or gowns must fee:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When all these mulcts are paid, and I<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From thee, dear wit, must part, and die;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We'll beg the world would be so kind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To give's one grave as we'd one mind;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There, as the wiser few suspect,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That spirits after death affect,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our souls shall meet, and thence will they,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Freed from the tyranny of clay,<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[6]</a></span> +<span class="i0">With equal wings, and ancient love<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Into the Elysian fields remove,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where in those blessèd walks they'll find<br /></span> +<span class="i0">More of thy genius, and my mind.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">First, in the shade of his own bays,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Great Ben they'll see, whose sacred lays<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The learnèd ghosts admire, and throng<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To catch the subject of his song.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then Randolph in those holy meads,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His <i>Lovers</i> and <i>Amyntas</i> reads,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whilst his Nightingale, close by,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sings his and her own elegy.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From thence dismiss'd, by subtle roads,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through airy paths and sad abodes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They'll come into the drowsy fields<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of Lethe, which such virtue yields,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That, if what poets sing be true,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The streams all sorrow can subdue.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here, on a silent, shady green,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The souls of lovers oft are seen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who, in their life's unhappy space,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Were murder'd by some perjur'd face.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All these th' enchanted streams frequent,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To drown their cares, and discontent,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That th' inconstant, cruel sex<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Might not in death their spirits vex.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And here our souls, big with delight<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of their new state, will cease their flight:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And now the last thoughts will appear,<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</a></span> +<span class="i0">They'll have of us, or any here;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But on those flow'ry banks will stay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And drink all sense and cares away.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">So they that did of these discuss,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shall find their fables true in us.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[8]</a></span></div></div> + + +<hr class="major" /> +<h3><a name="LES_AMOURS" id="LES_AMOURS"></a>LES AMOURS</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Tyrant, farewell! this heart, the prize<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And triumph of thy scornful eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I sacrifice to heaven, and give<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To quit my sins, that durst believe<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A woman's easy faith, and place<br /></span> +<span class="i0">True joys in a changing face.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Yet ere I go: by all those tears<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sighs I spent 'twixt hopes and fears;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By thy own glories, and that hour<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which first enslav'd me to thy power;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I beg, fair one, by this last breath,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This tribute from thee after death.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If, when I'm gone, you chance to see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That cold bed where I lodgèd be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let not your hate in death appear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But bless my ashes with a tear:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This influx from that quick'ning eye,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By secret pow'r, which none can spy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The cold dust shall inform, and make<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Those flames, though dead, new life partake<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose warmth, help'd by your tears, shall bring<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'er all the tomb a sudden spring<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of crimson flowers, whose drooping heads<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall curtain o'er their mournful beds:<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span> +<span class="i0">And on each leaf, by Heaven's command,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">These emblems to the life shall stand<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Two hearts, the first a shaft withstood;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The second, shot and wash'd in blood;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And on this heart a dew shall stay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which no heat can court away;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But fix'd for ever, witness bears<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That hearty sorrow feeds on tears.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus Heaven can make it known, and true<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That you kill'd me, 'cause I lov'd you.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr class="major" /> +<h3><a name="TO_AMORET" id="TO_AMORET"></a>TO AMORET.</h3> + + +<h4>The Sigh.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Nimble sigh, on thy warm wings,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Take this message and depart;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tell Amoret, that smiles and sings,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At what thy airy voyage brings,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That thou cam'st lately from my heart.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Tell my lovely foe that I<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have no more such spies to send,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But one or two that I intend,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some few minutes ere I die,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To her white bosom to commend.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then whisper by that holy spring,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where for her sake I would have died,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whilst those water-nymphs did bring<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Flowers to cure what she had tried;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And of my faith and love did sing.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">That if my Amoret, if she<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In after-times would have it read,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How her beauty murder'd me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With all my heart I will agree,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">If she'll but love me, being dead.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr class="major" /> +<h3><a name="TO_HIS_FRIEND_BEING_IN_LOVE" id="TO_HIS_FRIEND_BEING_IN_LOVE"></a>TO HIS FRIEND BEING IN LOVE.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ask, lover, ere thou diest; let one poor breath<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Steal from thy lips, to tell her of thy death;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Doating idolater! can silence bring<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy saint propitious? or will Cupid fling<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One arrow for thy paleness? leave to try<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This silent courtship of a sickly eye.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Witty to tyranny, she too well knows<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This but the incense of thy private vows,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That breaks forth at thine eyes, and doth betray<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sacrifice thy wounded heart would pay;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ask her, fool, ask her; if words cannot move,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The language of thy tears may make her love.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Flow nimbly from me then; and when you fall<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On her breast's warmer snow, O may you all,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By some strange fate fix'd there, distinctly lie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The much lov'd volume of my tragedy.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where, if you win her not, may this be read,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The cold that freez'd you so, did strike me dead.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr class="major" /> +<h3><a name="SONG" id="SONG"></a>SONG.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Amyntas go, thou art undone,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thy faithful heart is cross'd by fate;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That love is better not begun,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where love is come to love too late.<a name="FNanchor_43_43" id="FNanchor_43_43"></a><a href="#Footnote_43_43" class="fnanchor">[43]</a><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Had she professèd<a name="FNanchor_44_44" id="FNanchor_44_44"></a><a href="#Footnote_44_44" class="fnanchor">[44]</a> hidden fires,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or show'd one<a name="FNanchor_45_45" id="FNanchor_45_45"></a><a href="#Footnote_45_45" class="fnanchor">[45]</a> knot that tied her heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I could have quench'd my first desires,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And we had only met to part.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But, tyrant, thus to murder men,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And shed a lover's harmless blood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And burn him in those flames again,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which he at first might have withstood.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yet, who that saw fair Chloris weep<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Such sacred dew, with such pure<a name="FNanchor_46_46" id="FNanchor_46_46"></a><a href="#Footnote_46_46" class="fnanchor">[46]</a> grace;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Durst think them feignèd tears, or seek<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For treason in an angel's face.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">This is her art, though this be true,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Men's joys are kill'd with<a name="FNanchor_47_47" id="FNanchor_47_47"></a><a href="#Footnote_47_47" class="fnanchor">[47]</a> griefs and fears,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet she, like flowers oppress'd with dew,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Doth thrive and flourish in her tears. +<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">This, cruel, thou hast done, and thus<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That face hath many servants slain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though th' end be not to ruin us,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But to seek glory by our pain.<a name="FNanchor_48_48" id="FNanchor_48_48"></a><a href="#Footnote_48_48" class="fnanchor">[48]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_43_43" id="Footnote_43_43"></a><a href="#FNanchor_43_43"><span class="label">[43]</span></a> MS. <i>Whose pure offering comes too late.</i></p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_44_44" id="Footnote_44_44"></a><a href="#FNanchor_44_44"><span class="label">[44]</span></a> MS. <i>profess'd her.</i></p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_45_45" id="Footnote_45_45"></a><a href="#FNanchor_45_45"><span class="label">[45]</span></a> MS. <i>the.</i></p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_46_46" id="Footnote_46_46"></a><a href="#FNanchor_46_46"><span class="label">[46]</span></a> MS. <i>such a.</i></p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_47_47" id="Footnote_47_47"></a><a href="#FNanchor_47_47"><span class="label">[47]</span></a> MS. <i>by.</i></p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_48_48" id="Footnote_48_48"></a> +<a href="#FNanchor_48_48"><span class="label">[48]</span></a> +</p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">MS. <i>Your aime is sure to ruine us.</i></span><br /> +<span class="i2"><i>Seeking your glory by our paine</i></span><br /> +</div></div> +</div> + +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span></p> +<h3>TO AMORET.</h3> + +<h4>Walking in a Starry Evening.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">If, Amoret, that glorious eye,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">In the first birth of light,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">And death of Night,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had with those elder fires you spy<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Scatter'd so high,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Receivèd form and sight;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">We might suspect in the vast ring,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Amidst these golden glories,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And fiery stories;<a name="FNanchor_49_49" id="FNanchor_49_49"></a><a href="#Footnote_49_49" class="fnanchor">[49]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whether the sun had been the king<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And guide of day,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or your brighter eye should sway.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But, Amoret, such is my fate,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That if thy face a star<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Had shin'd from far,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I am persuaded in that state,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">'Twixt thee and me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of some predestin'd sympathy.<a name="FNanchor_50_50" id="FNanchor_50_50"></a><a href="#Footnote_50_50" class="fnanchor">[50]</a><br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For sure such two conspiring minds,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which no accident, or sight,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Did thus unite;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whom no distance can confine,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Start, or decline,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One for another were design'd.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="footnotes"> + +<h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p> +<a name="Footnote_49_49" id="Footnote_49_49"></a><a href="#FNanchor_49_49"><span class="label">[49]</span></a> +</p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">MS. <i>We may suspect in the vast ring</i>,<br /></span> +<span class="i4"><i>Which rolls those fiery spheres</i><br /></span> +<span class="i6"><i>Thro' years and years.</i><br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_50_50" id="Footnote_50_50"></a><a href="#FNanchor_50_50"><span class="label">[50]</span></a> MS. <i>There would be perfect sympathy.</i></p></div> + +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span></p> +<h3>TO AMORET GONE FROM HIM.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Fancy and I, last evening, walk'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Amoret, of thee we talk'd;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The West just then had stolen the sun,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And his last blushes were begun:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We sate, and mark'd how everything<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Did mourn his absence: how the spring<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That smil'd and curl'd about his beams,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whilst he was here, now check'd her streams:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wanton eddies of her face<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Were taught less noise, and smoother grace;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in a slow, sad channel went,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whisp'ring the banks their discontent:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The careless ranks of flowers that spread<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their perfum'd bosoms to his head.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And with an open, free embrace,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Did entertain his beamy face,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like absent friends point to the West,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And on that weak reflection feast.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If creatures then that have no sense,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the loose tie of influence,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though fate and time each day remove<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Those things that element their love,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At such vast distance can agree,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Why, Amoret, why should not we?<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr class="major" /> +<h3><a name="A_SONG_TO_AMORET" id="A_SONG_TO_AMORET"></a>A SONG TO AMORET.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">If I were dead, and in my place<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Some fresher youth design'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To warm thee with new fires, and grace<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Those arms I left behind;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Were he as faithful as the sun,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That's wedded to the sphere;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His blood as chaste and temp'rate run,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As April's mildest tear;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Or were he rich, and with his heaps<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And spacious share of earth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Could make divine affection cheap,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And court his golden birth:<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For all these arts I'd not believe,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">—No, though he should be thine—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The mighty amorist could give<br /></span> +<span class="i2">So rich a heart as mine.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Fortune and beauty thou might'st find,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And greater men than I:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But my true resolvèd mind<br /></span> +<span class="i2">They never shall come nigh.<a name="FNanchor_51_51" id="FNanchor_51_51"></a><a href="#Footnote_51_51" class="fnanchor">[51]</a><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For I not for an hour did love,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or for a day desire,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But with my soul had from above<br /></span> +<span class="i2">This endless, holy fire.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p> +<a name="Footnote_51_51" id="Footnote_51_51"></a> +<a href="#FNanchor_51_51"><span class="label">[51]</span></a> +</p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">MS. <i>But with my true steadfast minde</i><br /></span> +<span class="i4"><i>None can pretend to vie.</i><br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="AN_ELEGY" id="AN_ELEGY"></a>AN ELEGY.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Tis true, I am undone: yet, ere I die,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'll leave these sighs and tears a legacy<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To after-lovers: that, rememb'ring me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Those sickly flames which now benighted be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fann'd by their warmer sighs, may love; and prove<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In them the metempsychosis of love.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twas I—when others scorn'd—vow'd you were fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sware that breath enrich'd the coarser air,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lent roses to your cheeks, made Flora bring<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her nymphs with all the glories of the spring<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To wait upon thy face, and gave my heart<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A pledge to Cupid for a quicker dart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To arm those eyes against myself; to me<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou ow'st that tongue's bewitching harmony.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I courted angels from those upper joys,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And made them leave their spheres to hear thy voice.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I made the Indian curse the hours he spent<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To seek his pearls, and wisely to repent<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His former folly, and confess a sin,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Charm'd by the brighter lustre of thy skin.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I borrow'd from the winds the gentler wing<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of Zephyrus, and soft souls of the spring;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And made—to air those cheeks with fresher grace—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The warm inspirers dwell upon thy face.<br /></span> +<span class="i14"><i>Oh! jam satis</i> ...<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr class="major" /> +<h3><a name="A_RHAPSODIS" id="A_RHAPSODIS"></a>A RHAPSODIS:</h3> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<i>Occasionally written upon a meeting with some of his friends at the +Globe Tavern, in a chamber painted overhead with a cloudy sky and +some few dispersed stars, and on the sides with landscapes, hills, +shepherds and sheep.</i> +</div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Darkness, and stars i' th' mid-day! They invite<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our active fancies to believe it night:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For taverns need no sun, but for a sign,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where rich tobacco and quick tapers shine;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And royal, witty sack, the poet's soul,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With brighter suns than he doth gild the bowl;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As though the pot and poet did agree,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sack should to both illuminator be.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That artificial cloud, with its curl'd brow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tells us 'tis late; and that blue space below<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is fir'd with many stars: mark! how they break<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In silent glances o'er the hills, and speak<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The evening to the plains, where, shot from far,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They meet in dumb salutes, as one great star.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The room, methinks, grows darker; and the air<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Contracts a sadder colour, and less fair.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or is't the drawer's skill? hath he no arts<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To blind us so we can't know pints from quarts?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No, no, 'tis night: look where the jolly clown<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Musters his bleating herd and quits the down.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hark! how his rude pipe frets the quiet air,<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Whilst ev'ry hill proclaims Lycoris fair.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rich, happy man! that canst thus watch and sleep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Free from all cares, but thy wench, pipe and sheep!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But see, the moon is up; view, where she stands<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sentinel o'er the door, drawn by the hands<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of some base painter, that for gain hath made<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her face the landmark to the tippling trade.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This cup to her, that to Endymion give;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twas wit at first, and wine that made them live.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Choke may the painter! and his box disclose<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No other colours than his fiery nose;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And may we no more of his pencil see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than two churchwardens, and mortality.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Should we go now a-wand'ring, we should meet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With catchpoles, whores and carts in ev'ry street:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now when each narrow lane, each nook and cave,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sign-posts and shop-doors, pimp for ev'ry knave,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When riotous sinful plush, and tell-tale spurs<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Walk Fleet Street and the Strand, when the soft stirs<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of bawdy, ruffled silks, turn night to day;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the loud whip and coach scolds all the way;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When lust of all sorts, and each itchy blood<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From the Tower-wharf to Cymbeline, and Lud,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hunts for a mate, and the tir'd footman reels<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twixt chairmen, torches, and the hackney wheels.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Come, take the other dish; it is to him<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That made his horse a senator: each brim<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Look big as mine: the gallant, jolly beast<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of all the herd—you'll say—was not the least.<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Now crown the second bowl, rich as his worth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'll drink it to; he, that like fire broke forth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Into the Senate's face, cross'd Rubicon,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the State's pillars, with their laws thereon,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And made the dull grey beards and furr'd gowns fly<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Into Brundusium to consult, and lie.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">This, to brave Sylla! why should it be said<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We drink more to the living than the dead?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Flatt'rers and fools do use it: let us laugh<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At our own honest mirth; for they that quaff<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To honour others, do like those that sent<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their gold and plate to strangers to be spent.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Drink deep; this cup be pregnant, and the wine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Spirit of wit, to make us all divine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That big with sack and mirth we may retire<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Possessors of more souls, and nobler fire;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And by the influx of this painted sky,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And labour'd forms, to higher matters fly;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So, if a nap shall take us, we shall all,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">After full cups, have dreams poetical.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Let's laugh now, and the press'd grape drink,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till the drowsy day-star wink;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in our merry, mad mirth run<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Faster, and further than the sun;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And let none his cup forsake,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till that star again doth wake;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So we men below shall move<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Equally with the gods above.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr class="major" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span></p> +<h3> +<a name="TO_AMORET_OF_THE_DIFFERENCE_TWIXT_HIM_AND_OTHER_LOVERS_AND_WHAT_TRUE" + id="TO_AMORET_OF_THE_DIFFERENCE_TWIXT_HIM_AND_OTHER_LOVERS_AND_WHAT_TRUE"></a> +TO AMORET, OF THE DIFFERENCE<br /> +'TWIXT HIM AND OTHER LOVERS,<br /> +AND WHAT TRUE LOVE IS. +</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Mark, when the evening's cooler wings<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Fan the afflicted air, how the faint sun,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Leaving undone,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">What he begun,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Those spurious flames suck'd up from slime and earth<br /></span> +<span class="i8">To their first, low birth,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Resigns, and brings.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">They shoot their tinsel beams and vanities,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Threading with those false fires their way;<br /></span> +<span class="i8">But as you stay<br /></span> +<span class="i8">And see them stray,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You lose the flaming track, and subtly they<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Languish away,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">And cheat your eyes.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Just so base, sublunary lovers' hearts<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Fed on loose profane desires,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">May for an eye<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Or face comply:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But those remov'd, they will as soon depart,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">And show their art,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">And painted fires.<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Whilst I by pow'rful love, so much refin'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">That my absent soul the same is,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Careless to miss<br /></span> +<span class="i8">A glance or kiss,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Can with those elements of lust and sense<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Freely dispense,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">And court the mind.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thus to the North the loadstones move,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And thus to them th' enamour'd steel aspires:<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Thus Amoret<br /></span> +<span class="i8">I do affect;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thus by wingèd beams, and mutual fire,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Spirits and stars conspire:<br /></span> +<span class="i8">And this is Love.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr class="major" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="TO_AMORET_WEEPING" id="TO_AMORET_WEEPING"></a>TO AMORET WEEPING.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Leave Amoret, melt not away so fast<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy eyes' fair treasure; Fortune's wealthiest cast<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Deserves not one such pearl; for these, well spent,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Can purchase stars, and buy a tenement<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For us in heaven; though here the pious streams<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Avail us not; who from that clue of sunbeams<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Could ever steal one thread? or with a kind<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Persuasive accent charm the wild loud wind?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Fate cuts us all in marble, and the Book<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Forestalls our glass of minutes; we may look<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But seldom meet a change; think you a tear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Can blot the flinty volume? shall our fear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or grief add to their triumphs? and must we<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Give an advantage to adversity?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dear, idle prodigal! is it not just<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We bear our stars? What though I had not dust<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Enough to cabinet a worm? nor stand<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Enslav'd unto a little dirt, or sand?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I boast a better purchase, and can show<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The glories of a soul that's simply true.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But grant some richer planet at my birth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had spied me out, and measur'd so much earth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or gold unto my share: I should have been<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Slave to these lower elements, and seen<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span> +<span class="i0">My high-born soul flag with their dross, and lie<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A pris'ner to base mud, and alchemy.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I should perhaps eat orphans, and suck up<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A dozen distress'd widows in one cup;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nay, further, I should by that lawful stealth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Damn'd usury, undo the commonwealth;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or patent it in soap, and coals, and so<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have the smiths curse me, and my laundress too;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Geld wine, or his friend tobacco; and so bring<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The incens'd subject rebel to his king;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And after all—as those first sinners fell—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sink lower than my gold, and lie in hell.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thanks then for this deliv'rance! blessed pow'rs,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You that dispense man's fortune and his hours,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How am I to you all engag'd! that thus<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By such strange means, almost miraculous,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You should preserve me; you have gone the way<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To make me rich by taking all away.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For I—had I been rich—as sure as fate,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Would have been meddling with the king, or State,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or something to undo me; and 'tis fit,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We know, that who hath wealth should have no wit,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But, above all, thanks to that Providence<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That arm'd me with a gallant soul, and sense,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Gainst all misfortunes, that hath breath'd so much<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of Heav'n into me, that I scorn the touch<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of these low things; and can with courage dare<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whatever fate or malice can prepare:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I envy no man's purse or mines: I know<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span> +<span class="i0">That, losing them, I've lost their curses too;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Amoret—although our share in these<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is not contemptible, nor doth much please—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet, whilst content and love we jointly vie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We have a blessing which no gold can buy.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr class="major" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="UPON_THE_PRIORY_GROVE_HIS_USUAL_RETIREMENT" +id="UPON_THE_PRIORY_GROVE_HIS_USUAL_RETIREMENT"></a> +UPON THE PRIORY GROVE,<br /> +HIS USUAL RETIREMENT.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Hail, sacred shades! cool, leafy house!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Chaste treasurer of all my vows<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And wealth! on whose soft bosom laid<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My love's fair steps I first betray'd:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Henceforth no melancholy flight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No sad wing, or hoarse bird of night,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Disturb this air, no fatal throat<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of raven, or owl, awake the note<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of our laid echo, no voice dwell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Within these leaves, but Philomel.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The poisonous ivy here no more<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His false twists on the oak shall score;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Only the woodbine here may twine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As th' emblem of her love, and mine;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The amorous sun shall here convey<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His best beams, in thy shades to play;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The active air the gentlest show'rs<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall from his wings rain on thy flowers;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the moon from her dewy locks<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall deck thee with her brightest drops.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whatever can a fancy move,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or feed the eye, be on this grove!<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span> +<span class="i2">And when at last the winds and tears<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of heaven, with the consuming years,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall these green curls bring to decay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And clothe thee in an aged grey<br /></span> +<span class="i0">—If ought a lover can foresee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or if we poets prophets be—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From hence transplanted, thou shalt stand<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A fresh grove in th' Elysian land;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where—most bless'd pair!—as here on earth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou first didst eye our growth, and birth;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So there again, thou'lt see us move<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In our first innocence and love;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in thy shades, as now, so then,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We'll kiss, and smile, and walk again.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr class="major" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="JUVENALS_TENTH_SATIRE_TRANSLATED" id="JUVENALS_TENTH_SATIRE_TRANSLATED"></a> +JUVENAL'S TENTH SATIRE TRANSLATED.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In all the parts of earth, from farthest West,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the Atlantic Isles, unto the East<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And famous Ganges, few there be that know<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What's truly good, and what is good, in show,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Without mistake: for what is't we desire,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or fear discreetly? to whate'er aspire,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So throughly bless'd, but ever as we speed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Repentance seals the very act, and deed?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The easy gods, mov'd by no other fate<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than our own pray'rs, whole kingdoms ruinate,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And undo families: thus strife, and war<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are the sword's prize, and a litigious bar<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The gown's prime wish. Vain confidence to share<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In empty honours and a bloody care<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To be the first in mischief, makes him die<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fool'd 'twixt ambition and credulity.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An oily tongue with fatal, cunning sense,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And that sad virtue ever, eloquence,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are th' other's ruin, but the common curse;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And each day's ill waits on the rich man's purse;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He, whose large acres and imprison'd gold<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So far exceeds his father's store of old,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As British whales the dolphins do surpass.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In sadder times therefore, and when the laws<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Of Nero's fiat reign'd, an armèd band<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Seiz'd on Longinus, and the spacious land<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of wealthy Seneca, besieg'd the gates<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of Lateranus, and his fair estate<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Divided as a spoil: in such sad feasts<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Soldiers—though not invited—are the guests.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Though thou small pieces of the blessèd mine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hast lodg'd about thee, travelling in the shine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of a pale moon, if but a reed doth shake,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mov'd by the wind, the shadow makes thee quake.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wealth hath its cares, and want has this relief,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It neither fears the soldier nor the thief;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thy first choice vows, and to the gods best known,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are for thy stores' increase, that in all town<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy stock be greatest, but no poison lies<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I' th' poor man's dish; he tastes of no such spice.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Be that thy care, when, with a kingly gust,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou suck'st whole bowls clad in the gilded dust<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of some rich mineral, whilst the false wine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sparkles aloft, and makes the draught divine.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Blam'st thou the sages, then? because the one<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Would still be laughing, when he would be gone<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From his own door; the other cried to see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His times addicted to such vanity?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Smiles are an easy purchase, but to weep<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is a hard act; for tears are fetch'd more deep.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Democritus his nimble lungs would tire<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With constant laughter, and yet keep entire<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His stock of mirth, for ev'ry object was<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Addition to his store; though then—alas!—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sedans, and litters, and our Senate gowns,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With robes of honour, fasces, and the frowns<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of unbrib'd tribunes were not seen; but had<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He liv'd to see our Roman prætor clad<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In Jove's own mantle, seated on his high<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Embroider'd chariot 'midst the dust and cry<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the large theatre, loaden with a crown,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which scarce he could support—for it would down,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But that his servant props it—and close by<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His page, a witness to his vanity:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To these his sceptre and his eagle add,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His trumpets, officers, and servants clad<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In white and purple; with the rest that day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He hir'd to triumph, for his bread, and pay;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had he these studied, sumptuous follies seen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis thought his wanton and effusive spleen<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had kill'd the Abderite, though in that age<br /></span> +<span class="i0">—When pride and greatness had not swell'd the stage<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So high as ours—his harmless and just mirth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From ev'ry object had a sudden birth.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor was't alone their avarice or pride,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their triumphs or their cares he did deride;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their vain contentions or ridiculous fears,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But even their very poverty and tears.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He would at Fortune's threats as freely smile<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As others mourn; nor was it to beguile<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His crafty passions; but this habit he<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By nature had, and grave philosophy.<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span> +<span class="i0">He knew their idle and superfluous vows,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sacrifice, which such wrong zeal bestows,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Were mere incendiaries; and that the gods,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not pleas'd therewith, would ever be at odds.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet to no other air, nor better place<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ow'd he his birth, than the cold, homely Thrace;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which shows a man may be both wise and good,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Without the brags of fortune, or his blood.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But envy ruins all: what mighty names<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of fortune, spirit, action, blood, and fame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hath this destroy'd? yea, for no other cause<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than being such; their honour, worth and place,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was crime enough; their statues, arms and crowns<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their ornaments of triumph, chariots, gowns,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And what the herald, with a learnèd care,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had long preserv'd, this madness will not spare.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">So once Sejanus' statue Rome allow'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her demi-god, and ev'ry Roman bow'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To pay his safety's vows; but when that face<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had lost Tiberius once, its former grace<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was soon eclips'd; no diff'rence made—alas!—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Betwixt his statue then, and common brass,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They melt alike, and in the workman's hand<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For equal, servile use, like others stand.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Go, now fetch home fresh bays, and pay new vows<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To thy dumb Capitol gods! thy life, thy house,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And state are now secur'd: Sejanus lies<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I' th' lictors' hands. Ye gods! what hearts and eyes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Can one day's fortune change? the solemn cry<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Of all the world is, "Let Sejanus die!"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They never lov'd the man, they swear; they know<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nothing of all the matter, when, or how,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By what accuser, for what cause, or why,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By whose command or sentence he must die.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But what needs this? the least pretence will hit,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When princes fear, or hate a favourite.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A large epistle stuff'd with idle fear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Vain dreams, and jealousies, directed here<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From Caprea does it; and thus ever die<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Subjects, when once they grow prodigious high.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">'Tis well, I seek no more; but tell me how<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This took his friends? no private murmurs now?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No tears? no solemn mourner seen? must all<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His glory perish in one funeral?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O still true Romans! State-wit bids them praise<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The moon by night, but court the warmer rays<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O' th' sun by day; they follow fortune still,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And hate or love discreetly, as their will<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the time leads them. This tumultuous fate<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Puts all their painted favours out of date.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And yet this people that now spurn, and tread<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This mighty favourite's once honour'd head,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had but the Tuscan goddess, or his stars<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Destin'd him for an empire, or had wars,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Treason, or policy, or some higher pow'r<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oppress'd secure Tiberius; that same hour<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That he receiv'd the sad Gemonian doom,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had crown'd him emp'ror of the world and Rome<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span> +<span class="i2">But Rome is now grown wise, and since that she<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her suffrages, and ancient liberty<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lost in a monarch's name, she takes no care<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For favourite or prince; nor will she share<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their fickle glories, though in Cato's days<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She rul'd whole States and armies with her voice.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of all the honours now within her walls,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She only dotes on plays and festivals.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor is it strange; for when these meteors fall,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They draw an ample ruin with them: all<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Share in the storm; each beam sets with the sun,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And equal hazard friends and flatt'rers run.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This makes, that circled with distractive fear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The lifeless, pale Sejanus' limbs they tear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And lest the action might a witness need,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They bring their servants to confirm the deed;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor is it done for any other end,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than to avoid the title of his friend.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So falls ambitious man, and such are still<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All floating States built on the people's will:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Hearken all you! whom this bewitching lust<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of an hour's glory, and a little dust<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Swells to such dear repentance! you that can<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Measure whole kingdoms with a thought or span!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Would you be as Sejanus? would you have,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So you might sway as he did, such a grave?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Would you be rich as he? command, dispose,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All acts and offices? all friends and foes?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Be generals of armies and colleague<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Unto an emperor? break or make a league?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No doubt you would; for both the good and bad<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An equal itch of honour ever had.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But O! what state can be so great or good,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As to be bought with so much shame and blood?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alas! Sejanus will too late confess<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twas only pride and greatness made him less:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For he that moveth with the lofty wind<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of Fortune, and Ambition, unconfin'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In act or thought, doth but increase his height,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That he may loose it with more force and weight;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Scorning a base, low ruin, as if he<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Would of misfortune make a prodigy.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Tell, mighty Pompey, Crassus, and O thou<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That mad'st Rome kneel to thy victorious brow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What but the weight of honours, and large fame<br /></span> +<span class="i0">After your worthy acts, and height of name,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Destroy'd you in the end? The envious Fates,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Easy to further your aspiring States,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Us'd them to quell you too; pride, and excess.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In ev'ry act did make you thrive the less.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Few kings are guilty of grey hairs, or die<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Without a stab, a draught, or treachery.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And yet to see him, that but yesterday<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Saw letters first, how he will scrape, and pray;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all her feast-time tire Minerva's ears<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For fame, for eloquence, and store of years<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To thrive and live in; and then lest he dotes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His boy assists him with his box and notes.<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Fool that thou art! not to discern the ill<br /></span> +<span class="i0">These vows include; what, did Rome's consul kill<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her Cicero? what, him whose very dust<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Greece celebrates as yet; whose cause, though just,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Scarce banishment could end; nor poison save<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His free-born person from a foreign grave?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All this from eloquence! both head and hand<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The tongue doth forfeit; petty wits may stand<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Secure from danger, but the nobler vein<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With loss of blood the bar doth often stain.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> + +<div style='float:right;margin-right:5em;width:8em;'> + <div style='float:left;font-size:300%;font-weight:lighter;'> + <p style='margin:0;line-height:1em;text-indent:0'>}</p> + </div> + <p style='margin:0.5em 0 0 0;line-height:1em;text-indent:0;'><span class='smcap'>Carmen</span></p> + <p style='margin:0;line-height:1em;text-indent:0;'><span class='smcap'>Ciceronianum</span></p> +</div> +<span class="i0" style='letter-spacing:2em'>········<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>O fortunatam natam me Consule Romam</i>.<br /></span> +<span class="i0" style='letter-spacing:2em'>········<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Had all been thus, thou might'st have scorn'd the sword<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of fierce Antonius; here is not one word<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Doth pinch; I like such stuff, 'tis safer far<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than thy Philippics, or Pharsalia's war.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What sadder end than his, whom Athens saw<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At once her patriot, oracle, and law?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unhappy then is he, and curs'd in stars<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whom his poor father, blind with soot and scars,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sends from the anvil's harmless chine, to wear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The factious gown, and tire his client's ear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And purse with endless noise. Trophies of war,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Old rusty armour, with an honour'd scar,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And wheels of captiv'd chariots, with a piece<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of some torn British galley, and to these<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The ensign too, and last of all the train<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span> +<span class="i0">The pensive pris'ner loaden with his chain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are thought true Roman honours; these the Greek<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And rude barbarians equally do seek.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus air, and empty fame, are held a prize<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beyond fair virtue; for all virtue dies<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Without reward; and yet by this fierce lust<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of fame, and titles to outlive our dust,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And monuments—though all these things must die<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And perish like ourselves—whole kingdoms lie<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ruin'd and spoil'd: put Hannibal i' th' scale,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What weight affords the mighty general?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This is the man, whom Afric's spacious land<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bounded by th' Indian Sea, and Nile's hot sand<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Could not contain—Ye gods! that give to men<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such boundless appetites, why state you them<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So short a time? either the one deny,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or give their acts and them eternity.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All Æthiopia, to the utmost bound<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of Titan's course,—than which no land is found<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Less distant from the sun—with him that ploughs<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That fertile soil where fam'd<a name="FNanchor_52_52" id="FNanchor_52_52"></a><a href="#Footnote_52_52" class="fnanchor">[52]</a> Iberus flows,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are not enough to conquer; pass'd now o'er<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Pyrrhene hills, the Alps with all its store<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of ice, and rocks clad in eternal snow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">—As if that Nature meant to give the blow—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Denies him passage; straight on ev'ry side<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He wounds the hill, and by strong hand divides<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The monstrous pile; nought can ambition stay.<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span> +<span class="i0">The world and Nature yield to give him way.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And now pass'd o'er the Alps, that mighty bar<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twixt France and Rome, fear of the future war<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Strikes Italy; success and hope doth fire<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His lofty spirits with a fresh desire.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All is undone as yet—saith he—unless<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our Pænish forces we advance, and press<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upon Rome's self; break down her gates and wall,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And plant our colours in Suburra's vale.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O the rare sight! if this great soldier we<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Arm'd on his Getick elephant might see!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But what's the event? O glory, how the itch<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of thy short wonders doth mankind bewitch!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He that but now all Italy and Spain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had conquer'd o'er, is beaten out again;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in the heart of Afric, and the sight<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of his own Carthage, forc'd to open flight.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Banish'd from thence, a fugitive he posts<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To Syria first, then to Bithynia's coasts,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Both places by his sword secur'd, though he<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In this distress must not acknowledg'd be;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where once a general he triumphed, now<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To show what Fortune can, he begs as low.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And thus that soul which through all nations hurl'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Conquest and war, and did amaze the world,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of all those glories robb'd, at his last breath,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fortune would not vouchsafe a soldier's death.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For all that blood the field of Cannæ boasts,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sad Apulia fill'd with Roman ghosts,<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span> +<span class="i0">No other end—freed from the pile and sword—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than a poor ring would Fortune him afford.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Go now, ambitious man! new plots design,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">March o'er the snowy Alps and Apennine;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That, after all, at best thou may'st but be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A pleasing story to posterity!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The Macedon one world could not contain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We hear him of the narrow earth complain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sweat for room, as if Seriphus Isle<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or Gyara had held him in exile;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But Babylon this madness can allay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And give the great man but his length of clay.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The highest thoughts and actions under heaven<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Death only with the lowest dust lays even.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It is believed—if what Greece writes be true—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That Xerxes with his Persian fleet did hew<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their ways through mountains, that their sails full blown<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like clouds hung over Athos and did drown<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The spacious continent, and by plain force<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Betwixt the mount and it, made a divorce;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That seas exhausted were, and made firm land,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Sestos joined unto Abydos strand;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That on their march his Medes but passing by<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Drank thee, Scamander, and Melenus dry;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With whatsoe'er incredible design<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sostratus sings, inspir'd with pregnant wine.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But what's the end? He that the other day<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Divided Hellespont, and forc'd his way<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Through all her angry billows, that assign'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">New punishments unto the waves, and wind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No sooner saw the Salaminian seas<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But he was driven out by Themistocles,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And of that fleet—supposed to be so great,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That all mankind shar'd in the sad defeat—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not one sail sav'd, in a poor fisher's boat,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Chas'd o'er the working surge, was glad to float,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cutting his desp'rate course through the tir'd flood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And fought again with carcases, and blood.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O foolish mad Ambition! these are still<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The famous dangers that attend thy will.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Give store of days, good Jove, give length of years,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are the next vows; these with religious fears<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And constancy we pay; but what's so bad<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As a long, sinful age? what cross more sad<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than misery of years? how great an ill<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is that which doth but nurse more sorrow still?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It blacks the face, corrupt and dulls the blood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Benights the quickest eye, distastes the food,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And such deep furrows cuts i' th' checker'd skin<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As in th' old oaks of Tabraca are seen.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Youth varies in most things; strength, beauty, wit,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are several graces; but where age doth hit<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It makes no difference; the same weak voice,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And trembling ague in each member lies:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A general hateful baldness, with a curs'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Perpetual pettishness; and, which is worst,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A foul, strong flux of humours, and more pain<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span> +<span class="i0">To feed, than if he were to nurse again;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So tedious to himself, his wife, and friends,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That his own sons, and servants, wish his end.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His taste and feeling dies; and of that fire<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The am'rous lover burns in, no desire:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or if there were, what pleasure could it be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where lust doth reign without ability?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor is this all: what matters it, where he<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sits in the spacious stage? who can nor see,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor hear what's acted, whom the stiller voice<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of spirited, wanton airs, or the loud noise<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of trumpets cannot pierce; whom thunder can<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But scarce inform who enters, or what man<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He personates, what 'tis they act, or say?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How many scenes are done? what time of day?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Besides that little blood his carcase holds<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hath lost<a name="FNanchor_53_53" id="FNanchor_53_53"></a><a href="#Footnote_53_53" class="fnanchor">[53]</a> its native warmth, and fraught with colds<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Catarrhs, and rheums, to thick black jelly turns,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And never but in fits and fevers burns.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such vast infirmities, so huge a stock<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of sickness and diseases to him flock,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That Hyppia ne'er so many lovers knew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor wanton Maura; physic never slew<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So many patients, nor rich lawyers spoil<br /></span> +<span class="i0">More wards and widows; it were lesser toil<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To number out what manors and domains<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Licinius' razor purchas'd: one complains<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Of weakness in the back, another pants<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For lack of breath, the third his eyesight wants;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nay, some so feeble are, and full of pain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That infant-like they must be fed again.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">These faint too at their meals; their wine they spill,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And like young birds, that wait the mother's bill,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They gape for meat; but sadder far than this<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their senseless ignorance and dotage is;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For neither they, their friends, nor servants know,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nay, those themselves begot, and bred up too,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No longer now they'll own; for madly they<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Proscribe them all, and what, on the last day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The misers cannot carry to the grave<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For their past sins, their prostitutes must have.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But grant age lack'd these plagues: yet must they see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As great, as many: frail mortality,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In such a length of years, hath many falls,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And deads a life with frequent funerals.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The nimblest hour in all the span can steal<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A friend, or brother from's; there's no repeal<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In death, or time; this day a wife we mourn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To-morrow's tears a son; and the next urn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A sister fills. Long-livers have assign'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">These curses still, that with a restless mind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An age of fresh renewing cares they buy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in a tide of tears grow old and die.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nestor,—if we great Homer may believe—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In his full strength three hundred years did live:<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Happy—thou'lt say—that for so long a time<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Enjoy'd free nature, with the grape and wine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of many autumns; but, I prithee thee, hear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What Nestor says himself, when he his dear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Antilochus had lost; how he complains<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of life's too large extent, and copious pains?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of all he meets, he asks what is the cause<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He liv'd thus long; for what breach of their laws<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The gods thus punish'd him? what sin had he<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Done worthy of a long life's misery.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus Peleus his Achilles mourned, and he<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus wept that his Ulysses lost at sea.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had Priam died before Phereclus' fleet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was built, or Paris stole the fatal Greek,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Troy had yet stood, and he perhaps had gone<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In peace unto the lower shades; his son<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sav'd with his plenteous offspring, and the rest<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In solemn pomp bearing his fun'ral chest.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But long life hinder'd this: unhappy he,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Kept for a public ruin, liv'd to see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All Asia lost, and ere he could aspire,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In his own house saw both the sword and fire;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All white with age and cares, his feeble arm<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had now forgot the war; but this alarm<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gathers his dying spirits; and as we<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An aged ox worn out with labour see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By his ungrateful master, after all<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His years of toil, a thankless victim fall:<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span> +<span class="i0">So he by Jove's own altar; which shows we<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are nowhere safe from heaven, and destiny:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet died a man; but his surviving queen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Freed from the Greekish sword, was barking seen.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I haste to Rome, and Pontus' king let pass,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With Lydian Crœsus, whom in vain—alas!—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Just Solon's grave advice bad to attend,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That happiness came not before the end.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">What man more bless'd in any age to come<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or past, could Nature show the world, or Rome,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than Marius was? if amidst the pomp of war,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And triumphs fetch'd with Roman blood from far,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His soul had fled; exile and fetters then<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He ne'er had seen, nor known Minturna's fen;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor had it, after Carthage got, been said<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A Roman general had begg'd his bread.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thus Pompey th' envious gods, and Rome's ill stars<br /></span> +<span class="i0">—Freed from Campania's fevers, and the wars—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Doom'd to Achilles' sword: our public vows<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Made Cæsar guiltless; but sent him to lose<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His head at Nile: this curse Cethegus miss'd:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This Lentulus, and this made him resist<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That mangled by no lictor's axe, fell dead<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Entirely Catiline, and sav'd his head.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The anxious matrons, with their foolish zeal,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are the last votaries, and their appeal<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is all for beauty; with soft speech, and slow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They pray for sons, but with a louder vow<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Commend a female feature: all that can<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Make woman pleasing now they shift, and scan<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And when<a name="FNanchor_54_54" id="FNanchor_54_54"></a><a href="#Footnote_54_54" class="fnanchor">[54]</a> reprov'd, they say, Latona's pair<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The mother never thinks can be too fair.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But sad Lucretia warns to wish no face<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like hers: Virginia would bequeath her grace<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To crook-back Rutila in exchange; for still<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The fairest children do their parents fill<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With greatest cares; so seldom chastity<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is found with beauty; though some few there be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That with a strict, religious care contend<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Th' old, modest, Sabine customs to defend:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Besides, wise Nature to some faces grants<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An easy blush, and where she freely plants<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A less instruction serves: but both these join'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At Rome would both be forc'd or else purloin'd.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">So steel'd a forehead Vice hath, that dares win,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And bribe the father to the children's sin;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But whom have gifts defiled not? what good face<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Did ever want these tempters? pleasing grace<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Betrays itself; what time did Nero mind<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A coarse, maim'd shape? what blemish'd youth confin'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His goatish pathic? whence then flow these joys<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of a fair issue? whom these sad annoys<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wait, and grow up with; whom perhaps thou'lt see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Public adulterers, and must be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Subject to all the curses, plagues, and awe<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Of jealous madmen, and the Julian law;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor canst thou hope they'll find a milder star,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or more escapes than did the god of war.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But worse than all, a jealous brain confines<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His fury to no law; what rage assigns<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is present justice: thus the rash sword spills<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This lecher's blood; the scourge another kills.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But thy spruce boy must touch no other face<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than a patrician? is of any race<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So they be rich; Servilia is as good,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With wealth, as she that boasts Iulus' blood.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To please a servant all is cheap; what thing<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In all their stock to the last suit, and king,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But lust exacts? the poorest whore in this<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As generous as the patrician is.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But thou wilt say what hurt's a beauteous skin<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With a chaste soul? Ask Theseus' son, and him<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That Stenobœa murder'd; for both these<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Can tell how fatal 'twas in them to please.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A woman's spleen then carries most of fate,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When shame and sorrow aggravate her hate.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Resolve me now, had Silius been thy son,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In such a hazard what should he have done?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of all Rome's youth, this was the only best,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In whom alone beauty and worth did rest.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This Messalina saw, and needs he must<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Be ruin'd by the emp'ror, or her lust.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All in the face of Rome, and the world's eye<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though Cæsar's wife, a public bigamy<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span> +<span class="i0">She dares attempt; and that the act might bear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">More prodigy, the notaries appear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And augurs to't; and to complete the sin<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In solemn form, a dowry is brought in.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All this—thou'lt say—in private might have pass'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But she'll not have it so; what course at last?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What should he do? If Messaline be cross'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Without redress thy Silius will be lost;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If not, some two days' length is all he can<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Keep from the grave; just so much as will span<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This news to Hostia, to whose fate he owes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That Claudius last his own dishonour knows.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But he obeys, and for a few hours' lust<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Forfeits that glory should outlive his dust;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor was it much a fault; for whether he<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Obey'd or not, 'twas equal destiny.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So fatal beauty is, and full of waste.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That neither wanton can be safe, nor chaste.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What then should man pray for? what is't that he<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Can beg of Heaven, without impiety?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Take my advice: first to the gods commit<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All cares; for they things competent and fit<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For us foresee; besides, man is more dear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To them than to himself; we blindly here,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Led by the world and lust, in vain assay<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To get us portions, wives and sons; but they<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Already know all that we can intend,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And of our children's children see the end.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Yet that thou may'st have something to commend<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span> +<span class="i0">With thanks unto the gods for what they send;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pray for a wise and knowing soul; a sad,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Discreet, true valour, that will scorn to add<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A needless horror to thy death; that knows<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis but a debt which man to nature owes;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That starts not at misfortunes, that can sway<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And keep all passions under lock and key;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That covets nothing, wrongs none, and prefers<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An honest want, before rich injurers.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All this thou hast within thyself, and may<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Be made thy own, if thou wilt take the way;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What boots the world's wild, loose applause? what [can]<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Frail, perilous honours add unto a man?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What length of years, wealth, or a rich fair wife?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Virtue alone can make a happy life.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To a wise man nought comes amiss: but we<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fortune adore, and make our deity.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_52_52" id="Footnote_52_52"></a><a href="#FNanchor_52_52"><span class="label">[52]</span></a> The original has <i>framed</i>.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_53_53" id="Footnote_53_53"></a><a href="#FNanchor_53_53"><span class="label">[53]</span></a> The original has <i>low</i>.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_54_54" id="Footnote_54_54"></a><a href="#FNanchor_54_54"><span class="label">[54]</span></a> The original has <i>why</i></p></div> +</div> + +<hr class="major" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span></p> + +<h2 style=''><a name="OLOR_ISCANUS" id="OLOR_ISCANUS"></a> + +<span style='font-size:125%;'> OLOR ISCANUS.</span><br /> <br /> + +<span style='font-size:75%;'> 1651</span>. +</h2> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">——O quis me gelidis in vallibus Iscæ<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sistat, et ingenti ramorum protegat umbra!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr class="major" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span></p> + +<h3><a name="AD_POSTEROS" id="AD_POSTEROS"></a>AD POSTEROS.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Diminuat ne sera dies præsentis honorem<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Quis, qualisque fui, percipe Posteritas.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cambria me genuit, patulis ubi vallibus errans<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Subjacet aeriis montibus Isca pater.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Inde sinu placido suscepit maximus arte<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Herbertus, Latiæ gloria prima scholæ.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bis ternos, illo me conducente, per annos<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Profeci, et geminam contulit unus opem;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ars et amor, mens atque manus certare solebant,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nec lassata illi mensue, manusue fuit.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hinc qualem cernis crevisse: sed ut mea certus<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Tempora cognoscas, dura mere, scias.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Vixi, divisos cum fregerat hæresis Anglos<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Inter Tysiphonas presbyteri et populi.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His primum miseris per amœna furentibus arva<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Prostravit sanctam vilis avena rosam,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Turbarunt fontes, et fusis pax perit undis,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Moestaque coelestes obruit umbra dies.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Duret ut integritas tamen, et pia gloria, partem<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Me nullam in tanta strage fuisse, scias;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Credidimus nempe insonti vocem esse cruori,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Et vires quæ post funera flere docent.<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Hinc castæ, fidæque pati me more parentis<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Commonui, et lachrymis fata levare meis;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hinc nusquam horrendis violavi sacra procellis,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nec mihi mens unquam, nec manus atra fuit.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Si pius es, ne plura petas; satur ille recedat<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Qui sapit et nos non scripsimus insipidis.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr class="major" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span></p> + +<h3> +<a name="TO_THE_TRULY_NOBLE_AND_MOST_EXCELLENTLY_ACCOMPLISHED_THE_LORD_KILDARE" +id="TO_THE_TRULY_NOBLE_AND_MOST_EXCELLENTLY_ACCOMPLISHED_THE_LORD_KILDARE"></a> +TO THE TRULY NOBLE AND MOST EXCELLENTLY ACCOMPLISHED, THE LORD KILDARE DIGBY.</h3> + + +<p>My Lord,</p> + +<p>It is a position anciently known, and modern experience hath allowed it +for a sad truth, that absence and time,—like cold weather, and an +unnatural dormition—will blast and wear out of memory the most +endearing obligations; and hence it was that some politicians in love +have looked upon the former of these two as a main remedy against the +fondness of that passion. But for my own part, my Lord, I shall deny +this aphorism of the people, and beg leave to assure your Lordship, +that, though these reputed obstacles have lain long in my way, yet +neither of them could work upon me: for I am now—without adulation—as +warm and sensible of those numerous favours and kind influences received +sometimes from your Lordship, as I really was at the instant of +fruition. I have no plot by preambling thus to set any rate upon this +present address, as if I should presume to value a return of this nature +equal with your Lordship's deserts, but the design is to let you see +that this habit I have got of being<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span> troublesome flows from two +excusable principles, gratitude and love. These inward counsellors—I +know not how discreetly—persuaded me to this attempt and intrusion upon +your name, which if your Lordship will vouchsafe to own as the genius to +these papers, you will perfect my hopes, and place me at my full height. +This was the aim, my Lord, and is the end of this work, which though but +a <i>pazzarello</i> to the <i>voluminose insani</i>, yet as jessamine and the +violet find room in the bank as well as roses and lilies, so happily may +this, and—if shined upon by your Lordship—please as much. To whose +protection, sacred as your name and those eminent honours which have +always attended upon it through so many generations, I humbly offer it, +and remain in all numbers of gratitude,</p> +<p> +<span style='margin-left:10em;'>My honoured Lord,</span><br /> +<span style='margin-left:3em;'>Your most affectionate, humblest Servant,</span><br /> +<span style='margin-left:17em;'>Vaughan.</span><br /> +Newton by Usk this<br /> +<span style='margin-left:1em;'>17 of Decemb. 1647.</span></p> + +<hr class="major" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span></p> + +<h3><a name="THE_PUBLISHER_TO_THE_READER" id="THE_PUBLISHER_TO_THE_READER"></a> +THE PUBLISHER TO THE READER.</h3> + + +<p>It was the glorious Maro that referred his legacies +to the fire, and though princes are seldom executors, +yet there came a Cæsar to his testament, as if the +act of a poet could not be repealed but by a king. I +am not, Reader, <i>Augustus vindex</i>: here is no +royal rescue, but here is a Muse that deserves it. +The Author had long ago condemned these poems to +obscurity, and the consumption of that further fate +which attends it. This censure gave them a gust of +death, and they have partly known that oblivion +which our best labours must come to at last. I +present thee then not only with a book, but with a +prey, and in this kind the first recoveries from corruption. +Here is a flame hath been sometimes +extinguished, thoughts that have been lost and forgot, +but now they break out again like the Platonic +reminiscency. I have not the Author's approbation +to the fact, but I have law on my side, though never +a sword. I hold it no man's prerogative to fire his +own house. Thou seest how saucy I am grown, and +it thou dost expect I should commend what is +published, I must tell thee, I cry no Seville oranges. +I will not say, Here is fine or cheap: that were an<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span> +injury to the verse itself, and to the effects it can +produce. Read on, and thou wilt find thy spirit +engaged: not by the deserts of what we call tolerable, +but by the commands of a pen that is above it. +</p> + + + +<hr class="major" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span></p> +<h3> +<a name="UPON_THE_MOST_INGENIOUS_PAIR_OF_TWINS_EUGENIUS_PHILALETHES_AND_THE" +id="UPON_THE_MOST_INGENIOUS_PAIR_OF_TWINS_EUGENIUS_PHILALETHES_AND_THE"></a> +UPON THE MOST INGENIOUS PAIR OF TWINS, EUGENIUS PHILALETHES, AND THE +AUTHOR OF THESE POEMS.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What planet rul'd your birth? what witty star?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That you so like in souls as bodies are!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So like in both, that you seem born to free<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The starry art from vulgar calumny.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My doubts are solv'd, from hence my faith begins,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not only your faces but your wits are twins.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When this bright Gemini shall from Earth ascend,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They will new light to dull-ey'd mankind lend,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Teach the star-gazers, and delight their eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Being fix'd a constellation in the skies.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p style='text-align:right; margin-right:2em;'>T. Powell, Oxoniensis.</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span></p> + +<h3><a name="TO_MY_FRIEND_THE_AUTHOR_UPON_THESE_HIS_POEMS" id="TO_MY_FRIEND_THE_AUTHOR_UPON_THESE_HIS_POEMS"></a> +TO MY FRIEND THE AUTHOR UPON THESE HIS POEMS.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I call'd it once my sloth: in such an age<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So many volumes deep, I not a page?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But I recant, and vow 'twas thrifty care<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That kept my pen from spending on slight ware,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And breath'd it for a prize, whose pow'rful shine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Doth both reward the striver, and refine.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such are thy poems, friend: for since th' hast writ,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I can't reply to any name, but wit;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And lest amidst the throng that make us groan,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mine prove a groundless heresy alone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus I dispute, Hath there not rev'rence been<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Paid to the beard at door, for Lord within?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who notes the spindle-leg or hollow eye<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the thin usher, the fair lady by?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus I sin freely, neighbour to a hand<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which, while I aim to strengthen, gives command<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For my protection; and thou art to me<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At once my subject and security.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p style='text-align:right; margin-right:2em;'>I. Rowlandson, Oxoniensis.</p> + +<hr class="major" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span></p> + +<h3><a name="UPON_THE_FOLLOWING_POEMS" id="UPON_THE_FOLLOWING_POEMS"></a> +UPON THE FOLLOWING POEMS.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I write not here, as if thy last in store<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of learnèd friends; 'tis known that thou hast more;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who, were they told of this, would find a way<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To raise a guard of poets without pay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And bring as many hands to thy edition,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As th' City should unto their May'r's petition.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But thou wouldst none of this, lest it should be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy muster rather than our courtesy;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou wouldst not beg as knights do, and appear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Poet by voice and suffrage of the shire;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That were enough to make my Muse advance<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Amongst the crutches; nay, it might enhance<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our charity, and we should think it fit<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The State should build an hospital for wit.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But here needs no relief: thy richer verse<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Creates all poets, that can but rehearse,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And they, like tenants better'd by their land,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Should pay thee rent for what they understand.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou art not of that lamentable nation<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who make a blessed alms of approbation,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose fardel-notes are briefs in ev'rything,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But, that they are not <i>Licens'd by the king</i>.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Without such scrape-requests thou dost come forth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Arm'd—though I speak it—with thy proper worth,<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span> +<span class="i0">And needest not this noise of friends, for we<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Write out of love, not thy necessity.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And though this sullen age possessèd be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With some strange desamour to poetry,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet I suspect—thy fancy so delights—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Puritans will turn thy proselytes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And that thy flame, when once abroad it shines,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will bring thee as many friends as thou hast lines.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p style='text-align:right; margin-right:2em;'>Eugenius Philalethes, Oxoniensis.</p> + +<hr class="major" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span></p> + + +<p class='center' style='font-size:125%;letter-spacing:3px;'>OLOR ISCANUS.</p> + +<h3><a name="TO_THE_RIVER_ISCA" id="TO_THE_RIVER_ISCA"></a>TO THE RIVER ISCA.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When Daphne's lover here first wore the bays,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Eurotas' secret streams heard all his lays,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And holy Orpheus, Nature's busy child,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By headlong Hebrus his deep hymns compil'd;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Soft Petrarch—thaw'd by Laura's flames—did weep<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On Tiber's banks, when she—proud fair!—could sleep;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mosella boasts Ausonius, and the Thames<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Doth murmur Sidney's Stella to her streams;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While Severn, swoln with joy and sorrow, wears<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Castara's smiles mix'd with fair Sabrin's tears.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus poets—like the nymphs, their pleasing themes—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Haunted the bubbling springs and gliding streams;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And happy banks! whence such fair flow'rs have sprung,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But happier those where they have sat and sung!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Poets—like angels—where they once appear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hallow the place, and each succeeding year<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Adds rev'rence to't, such as at length doth give<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This aged faith, that there their genii live.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hence th' ancients say, that from this sickly air<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They pass to regions more refin'd and fair,<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span> +<span class="i0">To meadows strew'd with lilies and the rose,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And shades whose youthful green no old age knows;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where all in white they walk, discourse, and sing<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like bees' soft murmurs, or a chiding spring.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But Isca, whensoe'er those shades I see,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thy lov'd arbours must no more know me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When I am laid to rest hard by thy streams,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And my sun sets, where first it sprang in beams,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'll leave behind me such a large, kind light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As shall redeem thee from oblivious night,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in these vows which—living yet—I pay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shed such a previous and enduring ray,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As shall from age to age thy fair name lead,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Till rivers leave to run, and men to read.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">First, may all bards born after me<br /></span> +<span class="i2">—When I am ashes—sing of thee!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">May thy green banks or streams,—or none—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Be both their hill and Helicon!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">May vocal groves grow there, and all<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The shades in them prophetical,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where laid men shall more fair truths see<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Than fictions were of Thessaly!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">May thy gentle swains—like flow'rs—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sweetly spend their youthful hours,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And thy beauteous nymphs—like doves—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Be kind and faithful to their loves!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Garlands, and songs, and roundelays,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Mild, dewy nights, and sunshine days,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The turtle's voice, joy without fear,<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Dwell on thy bosom all the year!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">May the evet and the toad<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Within thy banks have no abode,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor the wily, winding snake<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her voyage through thy waters make!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In all thy journey to the main<br /></span> +<span class="i2">No nitrous clay, nor brimstone-vein<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Mix with thy streams, but may they pass<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Fresh on the air, and clear as glass,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And where the wand'ring crystal treads<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Roses shall kiss, and couple heads!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The factor-wind from far shall bring<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The odours of the scatter'd Spring,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And loaden with the rich arrear,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Spend it in spicy whispers there.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">No sullen heats, nor flames that are<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Offensive, and canicular,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shine on thy sands, nor pry to see<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thy scaly, shading family,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But noons as mild as Hesper's rays,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or the first blushes of fair days!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">What gifts more Heav'n or Earth can add,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With all those blessings be thou clad!<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Honour, Beauty,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Faith and Duty,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Delight and Truth,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">With Love and Youth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Crown all about thee! and whatever Fate<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Impose elsewhere, whether the graver state<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Or some toy else, may those loud, anxious cares<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For dead and dying things—the common wares<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And shows of Time—ne'er break thy peace, nor make<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy repos'd arms to a new war awake!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But freedom, safety, joy and bliss,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">United in one loving kiss,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Surround thee quite, and style thy borders<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The land redeem'd from all disorders!<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr class="major" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="THE_CHARNEL-HOUSE" id="THE_CHARNEL-HOUSE"></a> +THE CHARNEL-HOUSE.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Bless me! what damps are here! how stiff an air!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Kelder of mists, a second fiat's care,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Front'spiece o' th' grave and darkness, a display<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of ruin'd man, and the disease of day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lean, bloodless shamble, where I can descry<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fragments of men, rags of anatomy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Corruption's wardrobe, the transplantive bed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of mankind, and th' exchequer of the dead!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How thou arrests my sense! how with the sight<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My winter'd blood grows stiff to all delight!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Torpedo to the eye! whose least glance can<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Freeze our wild lusts, and rescue headlong man.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Eloquent silence! able to immure<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An atheist's thoughts, and blast an epicure.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Were I a Lucian, Nature in this dress<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Would make me wish a Saviour, and confess.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where are you, shoreless thoughts, vast tenter'd hope,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ambitious dreams, aims of an endless scope,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose stretch'd excess runs on a string too high,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And on the rack of self-extension die?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Chameleons of state, air-monging band,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose breath—like gunpowder—blows up a land,<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Come see your dissolution, and weigh<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What a loath'd nothing you shall be one day.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As th' elements by circulation pass<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From one to th' other, and that which first was<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I so again, so 'tis with you; the grave<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Nature but complot; what the one gave<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The other takes; think, then, that in this bed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There sleep the relics of as proud a head,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As stern and subtle as your own, that hath<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Perform'd, or forc'd as much, whose tempest-wrath<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hath levell'd kings with slaves, and wisely then<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Calm these high furies, and descend to men.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus Cyrus tam'd the Macedon; a tomb<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Check'd him, who thought the world too straight a room.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Have I obey'd the powers of face,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A beauty able to undo the race<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of easy man? I look but here, and straight<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I am inform'd, the lovely counterfeit<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was but a smoother clay. That famish'd slave<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beggar'd by wealth, who starves that he may save,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Brings hither but his sheet; nay, th' ostrich-man<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That feeds on steel and bullet, he that can<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Outswear his lordship, and reply as tough<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To a kind word, as if his tongue were buff,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is chap-fall'n here: worms without wit or fear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Defy him now; Death hath disarm'd the bear.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus could I run o'er all the piteous score<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of erring men, and having done, meet more,<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Their shuffled wills, abortive, vain intents,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fantastic humours, perilous ascents,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">False, empty honours, traitorous delights,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And whatsoe'er a blind conceit invites;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But these and more which the weak vermins swell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are couch'd in this accumulative cell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which I could scatter; but the grudging sun<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Calls home his beams, and warns me to be gone;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Day leaves me in a double night, and I<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Must bid farewell to my sad library.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet with these notes—Henceforth with thought of thee<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'll season all succeeding jollity,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet damn not mirth, nor think too much is fit;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Excess hath no religion, nor wit;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But should wild blood swell to a lawless strain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One check from thee shall channel it again.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr class="major" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="IN_AMICUM_FOENERATOREM" id="IN_AMICUM_FOENERATOREM"></a> +IN AMICUM FŒNERATOREM.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thanks, mighty Silver! I rejoice to see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How I have spoil'd his thrift, by spending thee.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now thou art gone, he courts my wants with more,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His decoy gold, and bribes me to restore.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As lesser lode-stones with the North consent,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Naturally moving to their element,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As bodies swarm to th' centre, and that fire<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Man stole from heaven, to heav'n doth still aspire,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So this vast crying sum draws in a less;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And hence this bag more Northward laid I guess,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For 'tis of pole-star force, and in this sphere<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though th' least of many, rules the master-bear.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Prerogative of debts! how he doth dress<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His messages in chink! not an express<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Without a fee for reading; and 'tis fit,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For gold's the best restorative of wit.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh how he gilds them o'er! with what delight<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I read those lines, which angels do indite!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But wilt have money, Og? must I dispurse<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will nothing serve thee but a poet's curse?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wilt rob an altar thus? and sweep at once<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What Orpheus-like I forc'd from stocks and stones?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twill never swell thy bag, nor ring one peal<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In thy dark chest. Talk not of shreeves, or gaol;<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span> +<span class="i0">I fear them not. I have no land to glut<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy dirty appetite, and make thee strut<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nimrod of acres; I'll no speech prepare<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To court the hopeful cormorant, thine heir.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For there's a kingdom at thy beck if thou<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But kick this dross: Parnassus' flow'ry brow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'll give thee with my Tempe, and to boot<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That horse which struck a fountain with his foot.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A bed of roses I'll provide for thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And crystal springs shall drop thee melody.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The breathing shades we'll haunt, where ev'ry leaf<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall whisper us asleep, though thou art deaf.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Those waggish nymphs, too, which none ever yet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Durst make love to, we'll teach the loving fit;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We'll suck the coral of their lips, and feed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upon their spicy breath, a meal at need:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rove in their amber-tresses, and unfold<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That glist'ring grove, the curled wood of gold;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then peep for babies, a new puppet play,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And riddle what their prattling eyes would say.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But here thou must remember to dispurse,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For without money all this is a curse.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou must for more bags call, and so restore<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This iron age to gold, as once before.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This thou must do, and yet this is not all,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For thus the poet would be still in thrall,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou must then—if live thus—my nest of honey<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cancel old bonds, and beg to lend more money.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr class="major" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="TO_HIS_FRIEND" id="TO_HIS_FRIEND"></a> +TO HIS FRIEND —— +</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I wonder, James, through the whole history<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of ages, such entails of poverty<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are laid on poets; lawyers—they say—have found<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A trick to cut them; would they were but bound<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To practise on us, though for this thing we<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Should pay—if possible—their bribes and fee.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Search—as thou canst—the old and modern store<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of Rome and ours, in all the witty score<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou shalt not find a rich one; take each clime,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And run o'er all the pilgrimage of time,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou'lt meet them poor, and ev'rywhere descry<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A threadbare, goldless genealogy.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nature—it seems—when she meant us for earth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Spent so much of her treasure in the birth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As ever after niggards her, and she,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus stor'd within, beggars us outwardly.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Woful profusion! at how dear a rate<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are we made up! all hope of thrift and state<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lost for a verse. When I by thoughts look back<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Into the womb of time, and see the rack<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stand useless there, until we are produc'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unto the torture, and our souls infus'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To learn afflictions, I begin to doubt<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span> +<span class="i0">That as some tyrants use from their chain'd rout<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of slaves to pick out one whom for their sport<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They keep afflicted by some ling'ring art;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So we are merely thrown upon the stage<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The mirth of fools and legend of the age.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When I see in the ruins of a suit<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some nobler breast, and his tongue sadly mute<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Feed on the vocal silence of his eye,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And knowing cannot reach the remedy;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When souls of baser stamp shine in their store,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And he of all the throng is only poor;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When French apes for foreign fashions pay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And English legs are dress'd th' outlandish way,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So fine too, that they their own shadows woo,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While he walks in the sad and pilgrim shoe;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'm mad at Fate, and angry ev'n to sin,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To see deserts and learning clad so thin;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To think how th' earthly usurer can brood<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upon his bags, and weigh the precious food<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With palsied hands, as if his soul did fear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The scales could rob him of what he laid there.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like devils that on hid treasures sit, or those<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose jealous eyes trust not beyond their nose,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They guard the dirt and the bright idol hold<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Close, and commit adultery with gold.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A curse upon their dross! how have we sued<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For a few scatter'd chips? how oft pursu'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Petitions with a blush, in hope to squeeze<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For their souls' health, more than our wants, a piece?<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Their steel-ribb'd chests and purse—rust eat them both!—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have cost us with much paper many an oath,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And protestations of such solemn sense,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As if our souls were sureties for the pence.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Should we a full night's learnèd cares present,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They'll scarce return us one short hour's content.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Las! they're but quibbles, things we poets feign,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The short-liv'd squibs and crackers of the brain.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But we'll be wiser, knowing 'tis not they<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That must redeem the hardship of our way.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whether a Higher Power, or that star<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which, nearest heav'n, is from the earth most far,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oppress us thus, or angell'd from that sphere<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By our strict guardians are kept luckless here,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It matters not, we shall one day obtain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our native and celestial scope again.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr class="major" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="TO_HIS_RETIRED_FRIEND_AN_INVITATION_TO_BRECKNOCK" id="TO_HIS_RETIRED_FRIEND_AN_INVITATION_TO_BRECKNOCK"></a> +TO HIS RETIRED FRIEND, AN INVITATION TO BRECKNOCK.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Since last we met, thou and thy horse—my dear—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have not so much as drunk, or litter'd here;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I wonder, though thyself be thus deceas'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou hast the spite to coffin up thy beast;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or is the palfrey sick, and his rough hide<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With the penance of one spur mortified?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or taught by thee—like Pythagoras's ox—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is then his master grown more orthodox<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whatever 'tis, a sober cause't must be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That thus long bars us of thy company.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The town believes thee lost, and didst thou see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But half her suff'rings, now distress'd for thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou'ldst swear—like Rome—her foul, polluted walls<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Were sack'd by Brennus and the savage Gauls.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Abominable face of things! here's noise<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of banged mortars, blue aprons, and boys,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pigs, dogs, and drums, with the hoarse, hellish notes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of politicly-deaf usurers' throats,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With new fine Worships, and the old cast team<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of Justices vex'd with the cough and phlegm.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Midst these the Cross looks sad, and in the Shire-<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hall furs of an old Saxon fox appear,<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span> +<span class="i0">With brotherly ruffs and beards, and a strange sight<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of high monumental hats, ta'en at the fight<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of 'Eighty-eight; while ev'ry burgess foots<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The mortal pavement in eternal boots.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Hadst thou been bach'lor, I had soon divin'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy close retirements, and monastic mind;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Perhaps some nymph had been to visit, or<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The beauteous churl was to be waited for,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And like the Greek, ere you the sport would miss,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You stay'd, and strok'd the distaff for a kiss.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But in this age, when thy cool, settled blood<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is ti'd t'one flesh, and thou almost grown good,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I know not how to reach the strange device,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Except—Domitian-like—thou murder'st flies.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or is't thy piety? for who can tell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But thou may'st prove devout, and love a cell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And—like a badger—with attentive looks<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the dark hole sit rooting up of books.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Quick hermit! what a peaceful change hadst thou,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Without the noise of haircloth, whip, or vow!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But there is no redemption? must there be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No other penance but of liberty?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Why, two months hence, if thou continue thus,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy memory will scarce remain with us,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The drawers have forgot thee, and exclaim<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They have not seen thee here since Charles, his reign,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or if they mention thee, like some old man,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That at each word inserts—"Sir, as I can<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Remember"—so the cyph'rers puzzle me<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span> +<span class="i0">With a dark, cloudy character of thee.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That—certs!—I fear thou wilt be lost, and we<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Must ask the fathers ere't be long for thee.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Come! leave this sullen state, and let not wine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And precious wit lie dead for want of thine.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall the dull market-landlord with his rout<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of sneaking tenants dirtily swill out<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This harmless liquor? shall they knock and beat<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For sack, only to talk of rye and wheat?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O let not such prepost'rous tippling be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In our metropolis; may I ne'er see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such tavern-sacrilege, nor lend a line<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To weep the rapes and tragedy of wine!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here lives that chymic, quick fire which betrays<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fresh spirits to the blood, and warms our lays.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I have reserv'd 'gainst thy approach a cup<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That were thy Muse stark dead, shall raise her up,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And teach her yet more charming words and skill<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than ever Cœlia, Chloris, Astrophil,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or any of the threadbare names inspir'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Poor rhyming lovers with a mistress fir'd.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Come then! and while the slow icicle hangs<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At the stiff thatch, and Winter's frosty pangs<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Benumb the year, blithe—as of old—let us<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Midst noise and war of peace and mirth discuss.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This portion thou wert born for: why should we<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Vex at the time's ridiculous misery?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An age that thus hath fool'd itself, and will<br /></span> +<span class="i0">—Spite of thy teeth and mine—persist so still.<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Let's sit then at this fire, and while we steal<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A revel in the town, let others seal,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Purchase or cheat, and who can, let them pay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till those black deeds bring on the darksome day.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Innocent spenders we! a better use<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall wear out our short lease, and leave th' obtuse<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rout to their husks; they and their bags at best<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have cares in earnest; we care for a jest.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr class="major" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="MONSIEUR_GOMBAULD" id="MONSIEUR_GOMBAULD"></a>MONSIEUR GOMBAULD.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I've read thy soul's fair nightpiece, and have seen<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Th' amours and courtship of the silent Queen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her stoln descents to Earth, and what did move her<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To juggle first with Heav'n, then with a lover,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With Latmos' louder rescue, and—alas!—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To find her out a hue and cry in brass;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy journal of deep mysteries, and sad<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nocturnal pilgrimage, with thy dreams clad<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In fancies darker than thy cave, thy glass<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of sleepy draughts; and as thy soul did pass<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In her calm voyage what discourse she heard<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of spirits, what dark groves and ill-shap'd guard<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ismena led thee through, with thy proud flight<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'er Periardes, and deep, musing night<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Near fair Eurotas' banks; what solemn green<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The neighbour shades wear, and what forms are seen<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In their large bowers, with that sad path and seat<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which none but light-heel'd nymphs and fairies beat;<a name="FNanchor_55_55" id="FNanchor_55_55"></a><a href="#Footnote_55_55" class="fnanchor">[55]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their solitary life, and how exempt<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From common frailty, the severe contempt<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They have of man, their privilege to live<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A tree, or fountain, and in that reprieve<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What ages they consume, with the sad vale<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Of Diophania, and the mournful tale,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of th' bleeding vocal myrtle; these and more<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy richer thoughts, we are upon the score<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To thy rare fancy for, nor dost thou fall<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From thy first majesty, or ought at all<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Betray consumption; thy full vig'rous bays<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wear the same green, and scorn the lean decays<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of style, or matter. Just so have I known<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some crystal spring, that from the neighbour down<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Deriv'd her birth, in gentle murmurs steal<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To their next vale, and proudly there reveal<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her streams in louder accents, adding still<br /></span> +<span class="i0">More noise and waters to her channel, till<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At last swoln with increase she glides along<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The lawns and meadows in a wanton throng<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of frothy billows, and in one great name<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Swallows the tributary brooks' drown'd fame.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor are they mere inventions, for we<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In th' same piece find scatter'd philosophy<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And hidden, dispers'd truths that folded lie<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the dark shades of deep allegory;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So neatly weav'd, like arras, they descry<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fables with truth, fancy with history.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So that thou hast in this thy curious mould<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cast that commended mixture wish'd of old,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which shall these contemplations render far<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Less mutable, and lasting as their star,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And while there is a people or a sun,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Endymion's story with the moon shall run.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_55_55" id="Footnote_55_55"></a><a href="#FNanchor_55_55"><span class="label">[55]</span></a> So Grosart, for the <i>heat</i> of the original.</p></div> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span></p> + +<h3> +<a name="AN_ELEGY_ON_THE_DEATH_OF_MR_R_W_SLAIN_IN_THE_LATE_UNFORTUNATE" +id="AN_ELEGY_ON_THE_DEATH_OF_MR_R_W_SLAIN_IN_THE_LATE_UNFORTUNATE"></a> +AN ELEGY ON THE DEATH OF MR. R. W.,<br /> +SLAIN IN THE LATE UNFORTUNATE DIFFERENCES<br /> +AT ROUTON HEATH, NEAR CHESTER, 1645.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I am confirmed, and so much wing is given<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To my wild thoughts, that they dare strike at heav'n.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A full year's grief I struggled with, and stood<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still on my sandy hopes' uncertain good,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So loth was I to yield; to all those fears<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I still oppos'd thee, and denied my tears.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But thou art gone! and the untimely loss<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like that one day hath made all others cross.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have you seen on some river's flow'ry brow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A well-built elm or stately cedar grow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose curled tops gilt with the morning-ray<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beckon'd the sun, and whisper'd to the day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When unexpected from the angry North<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A fatal sullen whirlwind sallies forth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And with a full-mouth'd blast rends from the ground<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The shady twins, which rushing scatter round<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their sighing leaves, whilst overborn with strength<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their trembling heads bow to a prostrate length?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So forc'd fell he; so immaturely Death<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stifled his able heart and active breath.<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span> +<span class="i0">The world scarce knew him yet, his early soul<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had but new-broke her day, and rather stole<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A sight than gave one; as if subtly she<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Would learn our stock, but hide his treasury.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His years—should Time lay both his wings and glass<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unto his charge—could not be summ'd—alas!—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To a full score; though in so short a span<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His riper thoughts had purchas'd more of man<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than all those worthless livers, which yet quick<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have quite outgone their own arithmetic.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He seiz'd perfections, and without a dull<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And mossy grey possess'd a solid skull;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No crooked knowledge neither, nor did he<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wear the friend's name for ends and policy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And then lay't by; as those lost youths of th' stage<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who only flourish'd for the Play's short age<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And then retir'd; like jewels, in each part<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He wore his friends, but chiefly at his heart.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor was it only in this he did excel,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His equal valour could as much, as well.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He knew no fear but of his God; yet durst<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No injury, nor—as some have—e'er purs'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sweat and tears of others, yet would be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">More forward in a royal gallantry<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than all those vast pretenders, which of late<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Swell'd in the ruins of their king and State.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He weav'd not self-ends and the public good<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Into one piece, nor with the people's blood<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fill'd his own veins; in all the doubtful way<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Conscience and honour rul'd him. O that day<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When like the fathers in the fire and cloud<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I miss'd thy face! I might in ev'ry crowd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">See arms like thine, and men advance, but none<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So near to lightning mov'd, nor so fell on.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have you observ'd how soon the nimble eye<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Brings th' object to conceit, and doth so vie<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Performance with the soul, that you would swear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The act and apprehension both lodg'd there;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Just so mov'd he: like shot his active hand<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Drew blood, ere well the foe could understand.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But here I lost him. Whether the last turn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of thy few sands call'd on thy hasty urn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or some fierce rapid fate—hid from the eye—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hath hurl'd thee pris'ner to some distant sky,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I cannot tell, but that I do believe<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy courage such as scorn'd a base reprieve.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whatever 'twas, whether that day thy breath<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Suffer'd a civil or the common death,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which I do most suspect, and that I have<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fail'd in the glories of so known a grave;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though thy lov'd ashes miss me, and mine eyes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had no acquaintance with thy exequies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor at the last farewell, torn from thy sight<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On the cold sheet have fix'd a sad delight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet whate'er pious hand—instead of mine—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hath done this office to that dust of thine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And till thou rise again from thy low bed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lent a cheap pillow to thy quiet head,<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Though but a private turf, it can do more<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To keep thy name and memory in store<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than all those lordly fools which lock their bones<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the dumb piles of chested brass, and stones<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Th'art rich in thy own fame, and needest not<br /></span> +<span class="i0">These marble-frailties, nor the gilded blot<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of posthume honours; there is not one sand<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sleeps o'er thy grave, but can outbid that hand<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And pencil too, so that of force we must<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Confess their heaps show lesser than thy dust.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And—blessed soul!—though this my sorrow can<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Add nought to thy perfections, yet as man<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Subject to envy, and the common fate,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It may redeem thee to a fairer date.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As some blind dial, when the day is done,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Can tell us at midnight there was a sun,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So these perhaps, though much beneath thy fame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">May keep some weak remembrance of thy name,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And to the faith of better times commend<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy loyal upright life, and gallant end.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><i>Nomen et arma locum servant, te, amice, nequivi</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>Conspicere</i>——————<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr class="major" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="UPON_A_CLOAK_LENT_HIM_BY_MR_J_RIDSLEY" id="UPON_A_CLOAK_LENT_HIM_BY_MR_J_RIDSLEY"></a> +UPON A CLOAK LENT HIM BY MR. J. RIDSLEY.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Here, take again thy sackcloth! and thank heav'n<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy courtship hath not kill'd me; Is't not even<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whether we die by piecemeal, or at once?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since both but ruin, why then for the nonce<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Didst husband my afflictions, and cast o'er<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Me this forc'd hurdle to inflame the score?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had I near London in this rug been seen<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Without doubt I had executed been<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For some bold Irish spy, and 'cross a sledge<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had lain mess'd up for their four gates and bridge.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When first I bore it, my oppressèd feet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Would needs persuade me 'twas some leaden sheet;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such deep impressions, and such dangerous holes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Were made, that I began to doubt my soles,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And ev'ry step—so near necessity—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Devoutly wish'd some honest cobbler by;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Besides it was so short, the Jewish rag<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Seem'd circumcis'd, but had a Gentile shag.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hadst thou been with me on that day, when we<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Left craggy Biston, and the fatal Dee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When beaten with fresh storms and late mishap<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It shar'd the office of a cloak, and cap,<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span> +<span class="i0">To see how 'bout my clouded head it stood<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like a thick turban, or some lawyer's hood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While the stiff, hollow pleats on ev'ry side<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like conduit-pipes rain'd from the bearded hide:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I know thou wouldst in spite of that day's fate<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let loose thy mirth at my new shape and state,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And with a shallow smile or two profess<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some Saracen had lost the clouted dress.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Didst ever see the good wife—as they say—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">March in her short cloak on the christ'ning day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With what soft motions she salutes the church,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And leaves the bedrid mother in the lurch;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Just so jogg'd I, while my dull horse did trudge<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like a circuit-beast, plagu'd with a gouty judge.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But this was civil. I have since known more<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And worser pranks: one night—as heretofore<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Th' hast known—for want of change—a thing which I<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Bias us'd before me—I did lie<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pure Adamite, and simply for that end<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Resolv'd, and made this for my bosom-friend.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O that thou hadst been there next morn, that I<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Might teach thee new Micro-cosmo-graphy!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou wouldst have ta'en me, as I naked stood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For one of the seven pillars before the flood.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such characters and hieroglyphics were<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In one night worn, that thou mightst justly swear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'd slept in cere-cloth, or at Bedlam, where<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The madmen lodge in straw. I'll not forbear<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span> +<span class="i0">To tell thee all; his wild impress and tricks<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like Speed's old Britons made me look, or Picts;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His villanous, biting, wire-embraces<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had seal'd in me more strange forms and faces<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than children see in dreams, or thou hast read<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In arras, puppet-plays, and gingerbread,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With angled schemes, and crosses that bred fear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of being handled by some conjurer;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And nearer, thou wouldst think—such strokes were drawn—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'd been some rough statue of Fetter-lane.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nay, I believe, had I that instant been<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By surgeons or apothecaries seen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They had condemned my raz'd skin to be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some walking herbal, or anatomy.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But—thanks to th' day!—'tis off. I'd now advise<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thee, friend, to put this piece to merchandise.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The pedlars of our age have business yet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And gladly would against the Fair-day fit<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Themselves with such a roof, that can secure<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their wares from dogs and cats rained in shower.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It shall perform; or if this will not do<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twill take the ale-wives sure; 'twill make them two<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fine rooms of one, and spread upon a stick<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is a partition, without lime or brick.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Horn'd obstinacy! how my heart doth fret<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To think what mouths and elbows it would set<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In a wet day! have you for twopence ere<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Seen King Harry's chapel at Westminster,<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Where in their dusty gowns of brass and stone<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The judges lie, and mark'd you how each one,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In sturdy marble-pleats about the knee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bears up to show his legs and symmetry?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Just so would this, that I think't weav'd upon<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some stiffneck'd Brownist's exercising loom.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O that thou hadst it when this juggling fate<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of soldiery first seiz'd me! at what rate<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Would I have bought it then; what was there but<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I would have giv'n for the compendious hut?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I do not doubt but—if the weight could please—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twould guard me better than a Lapland-lease.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or a German shirt with enchanted lint<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stuff'd through, and th' devil's beard and face weav'd in't.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But I have done. And think not, friend, that I<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This freedom took to jeer thy courtesy.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I thank thee for't, and I believe my Muse<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So known to thee, thou'lt not suspect abuse.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She did this, 'cause—perhaps—thy love paid thus<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Might with my thanks outlive thy cloak, and us.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr class="major" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="UPON_MR_FLETCHERS_PLAYS_PUBLISHED_1647" id="UPON_MR_FLETCHERS_PLAYS_PUBLISHED_1647"></a> +UPON MR. FLETCHER'S PLAYS, PUBLISHED 1647.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I knew thee not, nor durst attendance strive,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Label to wit, verser remonstrative,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in some suburb-page—scandal to thine—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like Lent before a Christmas scatter mine.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This speaks thee not, since at the utmost rate<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such remnants from thy piece entreat their date;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor can I dub the copy, or afford<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Titles to swell the rear of verse with lord;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor politicly big, to inch low fame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stretch in the glories of a stranger's name,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And clip those bays I court; weak striver I,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But a faint echo unto poetry.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I have not clothes t'adopt me, nor must sit<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For plush and velvet's sake, esquire of wit.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet modesty these crosses would improve,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And rags near thee, some reverence may move.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I did believe—great Beaumont being dead—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy widow'd Muse slept on his flow'ry bed;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But I am richly cozen'd, and can see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wit transmigrates: his spirit stay'd with thee;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which, doubly advantag'd by thy single pen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In life and death now treads the stage again.<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span> +<span class="i0">And thus are we freed from that dearth of wit<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which starv'd the land, since into schisms split,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wherein th' hast done so much, we must needs guess<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wit's last edition is now i' th' press.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For thou hast drain'd invention, and he<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That writes hereafter, doth but pillage thee.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But thou hast plots; and will not the Kirk strain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At the designs of such a tragic brain?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will they themselves think safe, when they shall see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy most abominable policy?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will not the Ears assemble, and think't fit<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their Synod fast and pray against thy wit?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But they'll not tire in such an idle quest;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou dost but kill, and circumvent in jest;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And when thy anger'd Muse swells to a blow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis but for Field's, or Swansted's overthrow.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet shall these conquests of thy bays outlive<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their Scottish zeal, and compacts made to grieve<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The peace of spirits: and when such deeds fail<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of their foul ends, a fair name is thy bail.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But—happy thou!—ne'er saw'st these storms, our air<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Teem'd with even in thy time, though seeming fair.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy gentle soul, meant for the shade and ease,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Withdrew betimes into the Land of Peace.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So nested in some hospitable shore<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The hermit-angler, when the mid-seas roar,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Packs up his lines, and—ere the tempest raves—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Retires, and leaves his station to the waves.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus thou died'st almost with our peace, and we<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span> +<span class="i0">This breathing time thy last fair issue see,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which I think such—if needless ink not soil<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So choice a Muse—others are but thy foil.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This, or that age may write, but never see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A wit that dares run parallel with thee.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">True, Ben must live! but bate him, and thou hast<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Undone all future wits, and match'd the past.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr class="major" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span></p> +<h3> +<a name="UPON_THE_POEMS_AND_PLAYS_OF_THE_EVER-MEMORABLE_MR_WILLIAM_CARTWRIGHT" +id="UPON_THE_POEMS_AND_PLAYS_OF_THE_EVER-MEMORABLE_MR_WILLIAM_CARTWRIGHT"></a> +UPON THE POEMS AND PLAYS OF THE EVER-MEMORABLE MR. WILLIAM CARTWRIGHT.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I did but see thee! and how vain it is<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To vex thee for it with remonstrances,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though things in fashion; let those judge, who sit<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their twelve pence out, to clap their hands at wit<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I fear to sin thus near thee; for—great saint!—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis known true beauty hath no need of paint.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Yet, since a label fix'd to thy fair hearse<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is all the mode, and tears put into verse<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Can teach posterity our present grief<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And their own loss, but never give relief;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'll tell them—and a truth which needs no pass—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That wit in Cartwright at her zenith was.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Arts, fancy, language, all conven'd in thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With those grand miracles which deify<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The old world's writings, kept yet from the fire<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Because they force these worst times to admire.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy matchless genius, in all thou didst write,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like the sun, wrought with such staid heat and light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That not a line—to the most critic he—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Offends with flashes, or obscurity.<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span> +<span class="i2">When thou the wild of humours track'st, thy pen<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So imitates that motley stock in men,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As if thou hadst in all their bosoms been,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And seen those leopards that lurk within.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The am'rous youth steals from thy courtly page<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His vow'd address, the soldier his brave rage;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And those soft beauteous readers whose looks can<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Make some men poets, and make any man<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A lover, when thy slave but seems to die,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Turn all his mourners, and melt at the eye.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus thou thy thoughts hast dress'd in such a strain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As doth not only speak, but rule and reign;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor are those bodies they assum'd dark clouds,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or a thick bark, but clear, transparent shrouds,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which who looks on, the rays so strongly beat<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They'll brush and warm him with a quick'ning heat;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So souls shine at the eyes, and pearls display<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through the loose crystal-streams a glance of day.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But what's all this unto a royal test?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou art the man whom great Charles so express'd!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then let the crowd refrain their needless hum,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When thunder speaks, then squibs and winds are dumb.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr class="major" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span></p> +<h3> +<a name="TO_THE_BEST_AND_MOST_ACCOMPLISHED_COUPLE_mdash" +id="TO_THE_BEST_AND_MOST_ACCOMPLISHED_COUPLE_mdash"></a> +TO THE BEST AND MOST ACCOMPLISHED COUPLE ——</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Blessings as rich and fragrant crown your heads<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As the mild heav'n on roses sheds,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When at their cheeks—like pearls—they wear<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The clouds that court them in a tear!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And may they be fed from above<br /></span> +<span class="i2">By Him which first ordain'd your love!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Fresh as the hours may all your pleasures be,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And healthful as eternity!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sweet as the flowers' first breath, and close<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As th' unseen spreadings of the rose,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When he unfolds his curtain'd head,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And makes his bosom the sun's bed!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Soft as yourselves run your whole lives, and clear<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As your own glass, or what shines there!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Smooth as heav'n's face, and bright as he<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When without mask or tiffany!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In all your time not one jar meet<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But peace as silent as his feet!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Like the day's warmth may all your comforts be,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Untoil'd for, and serene as he,<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Yet free and full as is that sheaf<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of sunbeams gilding ev'ry leaf,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When now the tyrant-heat expires<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And his cool'd locks breathe milder fires!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And as those parcell'd glories he doth shed<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Are the fair issues of his head,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which, ne'er so distant, are soon known<br /></span> +<span class="i2">By th' heat and lustre for his own;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">So may each branch of yours we see<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Your copies and our wonders be!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And when no more on earth you must remain,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Invited hence to heav'n again,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Then may your virtuous, virgin-flames<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shine in those heirs of your fair names,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And teach the world that mystery,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Yourselves in your posterity!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">So you to both worlds shall rich presents bring,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, gather'd up to heav'n, leave here a spring.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr class="major" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="AN_ELEGY_ON_THE_DEATH_OF_MR_R_HALL_SLAIN_AT_PONTEFRACT_1648" +id="AN_ELEGY_ON_THE_DEATH_OF_MR_R_HALL_SLAIN_AT_PONTEFRACT_1648"></a> +AN ELEGY ON THE DEATH OF MR. R. HALL,<br /> +SLAIN AT PONTEFRACT, 1648.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I knew it would be thus! and my just fears<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of thy great spirit are improv'd to tears.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet flow these not from any base distrust<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of a fair name, or that thy honour must<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Confin'd to those cold relics sadly sit<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the same cell an obscure anchorite.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such low distempers murder; they that must<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Abuse thee so, weep not, but wound thy dust.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But I past such dim mourners can descry<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy fame above all clouds of obloquy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And like the sun with his victorious rays<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Charge through that darkness to the last of days.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis true, fair manhood hath a female eye,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And tears are beauteous in a victory,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor are we so high-proof, but grief will find<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through all our guards a way to wound the mind;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But in thy fall what adds the brackish sum<br /></span> +<span class="i0">More than a blot unto thy martyrdom?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which scorns such wretched suffrages, and stands<br /></span> +<span class="i0">More by thy single worth than our whole bands.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet could the puling tribute rescue ought<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In this sad loss, or wert thou to be brought<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Back here by tears, I would in any wise<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pay down the sum, or quite consume my eyes.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou fell'st our double ruin; and this rent<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Forc'd in thy life shak'd both the Church and tent.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Learning in others steals them from the van,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And basely wise emasculates the man,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But lodg'd in thy brave soul the bookish feat<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Serv'd only as the light unto thy heat.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus when some quitted action, to their shame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And only got a discreet coward's name,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou with thy blood mad'st purchase of renown,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And died'st the glory of the sword and gown.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy blood hath hallow'd Pomfret, and this blow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">—Profan'd before—hath church'd the Castle now.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor is't a common valour we deplore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But such as with fifteen a hundred bore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And lightning-like—not coop'd within a wall—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In storms of fire and steel fell on them all.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou wert no woolsack soldier, nor of those<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose courage lies in winking at their foes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That live at loopholes, and consume their breath<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On match or pipes, and sometimes peep at death;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No, it were sin to number these with thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But that—thus pois'd—our loss we better see.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The fair and open valour was thy shield,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thy known station, the defying field.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Yet these in thee I would not virtues call,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But that this age must know that thou hadst all.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Those richer graces that adorn'd thy mind<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Like stars of the first magnitude, so shin'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That if oppos'd unto these lesser lights<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All we can say is this, they were fair nights.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy piety and learning did unite,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And though with sev'ral beams made up one light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And such thy judgment was, that I dare swear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whole councils might as soon and synods err.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But all these now are out! and as some star<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hurl'd in diurnal motions from far,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And seen to droop at night, is vainly said<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To fall and find an occidental bed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though in that other world what we judge West<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Proves elevation, and a new, fresh East;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So though our weaker sense denies us sight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And bodies cannot trace the spirit's flight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We know those graces to be still in thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But wing'd above us to eternity.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since then—thus flown—thou art so much refin'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That we can only reach thee with the mind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I will not in this dark and narrow glass<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let thy scant shadow for perfections pass,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But leave thee to be read more high, more quaint,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In thy own blood a soldier and a saint.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">——<i>Salve æternum mihi maxime Palla!</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>Æternumque vale!</i>——<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr class="major" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span></p> +<h3> +<a name="TO_MY_LEARNED_FRIEND_MR_T_POWELL_UPON_HIS_TRANSLATION_OF_MALVEZZIS" +id="TO_MY_LEARNED_FRIEND_MR_T_POWELL_UPON_HIS_TRANSLATION_OF_MALVEZZIS"></a> +TO MY LEARNED FRIEND, MR. T. POWELL,<br /> +UPON HIS TRANSLATION OF<br /> +MALVEZZI'S +CHRISTIAN POLITICIAN.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">We thank you, worthy Sir, that now we see<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><span class='smcap'>Malvezzi</span> languag'd like our infancy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And can without suspicion entertain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This foreign statesman to our breast or brain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You have enlarg'd his praise, and from your store<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By this edition made his worth the more.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus by your learnèd hand—amidst the coil—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Outlandish plants thrive in our thankless soil,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And wise men after death, by a strange fate,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lie leiger here, and beg to serve our State.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Italy now, though mistress of the bays,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Waits on this wreath, proud of a foreign praise;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For, wise Malvezzi, thou didst lie before<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Confin'd within the language of one shore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And like those stars which near the poles do steer<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Were't but in one part of the globe seen clear.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Provence and Naples were the best and most<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou couldst shine in; fix'd to that single coast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Perhaps some cardinal, to be thought wise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And honest too, would ask, what was thy price?<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Then thou must pack to Rome, where thou mightst lie<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ere thou shouldst have new clothes eternally,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For though so near the sev'n hills, ne'ertheless<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou cam'st to Antwerp for thy Roman dress.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But now thou art come hither, thou mayst run<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through any clime as well known as the sun,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in thy sev'ral dresses, like the year,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Challenge acquaintance with each peopled sphere.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Come then, rare politicians of the time,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Brains of some standing, elders in our clime,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">See here the method. A wise, solid State<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is quick in acting, friendly in debate,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Joint in advice, in resolutions just,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mild in success, true to the common trust.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It cements ruptures, and by gentle hand<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Allays the heat and burnings of a land;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Religion guides it, and in all the tract<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Designs so twist, that Heav'n confirms the act.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If from these lists you wander as you steer,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Look back, and catechize your actions here.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">These are the marks to which true statesmen tend,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And greatness here with goodness hath one end.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr class="major" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="TO_MY_WORTHY_FRIEND_MASTER_T_LEWES" id="TO_MY_WORTHY_FRIEND_MASTER_T_LEWES"></a> +TO MY WORTHY FRIEND, MASTER T. LEWES.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sees not my friend, what a deep snow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Candies our country's woody brow?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The yielding branch his load scarce bears,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oppress'd with snow and frozen tears;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While the dumb rivers slowly float,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All bound up in an icy coat.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Let us meet then! and while this world<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In wild eccentrics now is hurl'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Keep we, like nature, the same key,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And walk in our forefathers' way.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Why any more cast we an eye<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On what may come, not what is nigh?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Why vex ourselves with fear, or hope<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And cares beyond our horoscope?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who into future times would peer,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Looks oft beyond his term set here,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And cannot go into those grounds<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But through a churchyard, which them bounds.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sorrows and sighs and searches spend<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And draw our bottom to an end,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But discreet joys lengthen the lease,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Without which life were a disease;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And who this age a mourner goes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Doth with his tears but feed his foes<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr class="major" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="TO_THE_MOST_EXCELLENTLY_ACCOMPLISHED_MRS_K_PHILIPS" +id="TO_THE_MOST_EXCELLENTLY_ACCOMPLISHED_MRS_K_PHILIPS"></a> +TO THE MOST EXCELLENTLY ACCOMPLISHED MRS. K. PHILIPS.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Say, witty fair one, from what sphere<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Flow these rich numbers you shed here?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For sure such incantations come<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From thence, which strike your readers dumb.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A strain, whose measures gently meet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like virgin-lovers or Time's feet;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where language smiles, and accents rise<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As quick and pleasing as your eyes;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The poem smooth, and in each line<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Soft as yourself, yet masculine;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where not coarse trifles blot the page<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With matter borrow'd from the age,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But thoughts as innocent and high<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As angels have, or saints that die.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">These raptures when I first did see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">New miracles in poetry,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And by a hand their good would miss<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His bays and fountains but to kiss,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My weaker genius—cross to fashion—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Slept in a silent admiration:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A rescue, by whose grave disguise<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pretenders oft have pass'd for wise.<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span> +<span class="i0">And yet as pilgrims humbly touch<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Those shrines to which they bow so much,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And clouds in courtship flock, and run<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To be the mask unto the sun,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So I concluded it was true<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I might at distance worship you,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A Persian votary, and say<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It was your light show'd me the way.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So loadstones guide the duller steel,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And high perfections are the wheel<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which moves the less, for gifts divine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are strung upon a vital line,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which, touch'd by you, excites in all<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Affections epidemical.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And this made me—a truth most fit—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Add my weak echo to your wit;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which pardon, Lady, for assays<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Obscure as these might blast your bays;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As common hands soil flow'rs, and make<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That dew they wear weep the mistake.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But I'll wash off the stain, and vow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No laurel grows but for your brow.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr class="major" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="AN_EPITAPH_UPON_THE_LADY_ELIZABETH_SECOND_DAUGHTER_TO_HIS_LATE_MAJESTY" id="AN_EPITAPH_UPON_THE_LADY_ELIZABETH_SECOND_DAUGHTER_TO_HIS_LATE_MAJESTY"></a> +AN EPITAPH UPON THE LADY ELIZABETH, SECOND DAUGHTER TO HIS LATE MAJESTY.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Youth, beauty, virtue, innocence,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Heav'n's royal and select expense,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With virgin-tears and sighs divine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sit here the genii of this shrine;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where now—thy fair soul wing'd away—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They guard the casket where she lay.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thou hadst, ere thou the light couldst see,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sorrows laid up and stor'd for thee;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou suck'dst in woes, and the breasts lent<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their milk to thee but to lament;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy portion here was grief, thy years<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Distill'd no other rain but tears,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tears without noise, but—understood—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As loud and shrill as any blood.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou seem'st a rosebud born in snow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A flower of purpose sprung to bow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To headless tempests, and the rage<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of an incensèd, stormy age.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Others, ere their afflictions grow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are tim'd and season'd for the blow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But thine, as rheums the tend'rest part,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fell on a young and harmless heart.<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span> +<span class="i0">And yet, as balm-trees gently spend<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their tears for those that do them rend,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So mild and pious thou wert seen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though full of suff'rings; free from spleen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou didst not murmur, nor revile,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But drank'st thy wormwood with a smile.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As envious eyes blast and infect,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And cause misfortunes by aspèct,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So thy sad stars dispens'd to thee<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No influx but calamity;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They view'd thee with eclipsèd rays,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And but the back side of bright days.<br /></span> +<span class="i0" style="letter-spacing:2em;">········<br /></span> +<span class="i0">These were the comforts she had here,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As by an unseen Hand 'tis clear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which now she reads, and, smiling, wears<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A crown with Him who wipes off tears.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr class="major" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="TO_SIR_WILLIAM_DAVENANT_UPON_HIS_GONDIBERT" id="TO_SIR_WILLIAM_DAVENANT_UPON_HIS_GONDIBERT"></a> +TO SIR WILLIAM D'AVENANT UPON HIS GONDIBERT.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Well, we are rescued! and by thy rare pen<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Poets shall live, when princes die like men.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Th' hast clear'd the prospect to our harmless hill,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of late years clouded with imputed ill,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the soft, youthful couples there may move,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As chaste as stars converse and smile above.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Th' hast taught their language and their love to flow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Calm as rose-leaves, and cool as virgin-snow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which doubly feasts us, being so refin'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They both delight and dignify the mind;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like to the wat'ry music of some spring,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose pleasant flowings at once wash and sing.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And where before heroic poems were<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Made up of spirits, prodigies, and fear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And show'd—through all the melancholy flight—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like some dark region overcast with night,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As if the poet had been quite dismay'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While only giants and enchantments sway'd;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou like the sun, whose eye brooks no disguise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hast chas'd them hence, and with discoveries<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So rare and learnèd fill'd the place, that we<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Those fam'd grandezas find outdone by thee,<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span> +<span class="i0">And underfoot see all those vizards hurl'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which bred the wonder of the former world.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twas dull to sit, as our forefathers did,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At crumbs and voiders, and because unbid,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Refrain wise appetite. This made thy fire<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Break through the ashes of thy aged sire,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To lend the world such a convincing light<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As shows his fancy darker than his sight.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor was't alone the bars and length of days<br /></span> +<span class="i0">—Though those gave strength and stature to his bays—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Encounter'd thee, but what's an old complaint<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And kills the fancy, a forlorn restraint.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How couldst thou, mur'd in solitary stones,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dress Birtha's smiles, though well thou mightst her groans?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, strangely eloquent, thyself divide<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twixt sad misfortunes and a bloomy bride?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through all the tenour of thy ample song,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Spun from thy own rich store, and shar'd among<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Those fair adventurers, we plainly see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Th' imputed gifts inherent are in thee.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then live for ever—and by high desert—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In thy own mirror, matchless Gondibert,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in bright Birtha leave thy love enshrin'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fresh as her em'rald, and fair as her mind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While all confess thee—as they ought to do—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The prince of poets, and of lovers too.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr class="major" /> + +<h2>TRANSLATIONS FROM OVID</h2> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span></p> + +<h3>[OVID,] TRISTIUM, LIB. V. ELEG. III.<br /><br /> +TO HIS FELLOW-POETS AT ROME,<br /> +UPON THE BIRTHDAY OF BACCHUS.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">This is the day—blithe god of sack—which we,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If I mistake not, consecrate to thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the soft rose we marry to the bays,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, warm'd with thy own wine, rehearse thy praise;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Mongst whom—while to thy poet fate gave way—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I have been held no small part of the day.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But now, dull'd with the cold Bear's frozen seat,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sarmatia holds me, and the warlike Gete.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My former life, unlike to this my last,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With Rome's best wits of thy full cup did taste,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who since have seen the savage Pontic band,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all the choler of the sea and land.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whether sad chance or Heav'n hath this design'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And at my birth some fatal planet shin'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of right thou shouldst the sisters' knots undo,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And free thy votary and poet too;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or are you gods—like us—in such a state<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As cannot alter the decrees of fate?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I know with much ado thou didst obtain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy jovial godhead, and on earth thy pain<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Was no whit less, for, wand'ring, thou didst run<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the Getes too, and snow-weeping Strymon,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With Persia, Ganges, and whatever streams<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The thirsty Moor drinks in the mid-day beams.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But thou wert twice-born, and the Fates to thee<br /></span> +<span class="i0">—To make all sure—doubled thy misery.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My sufferings too are many—if it be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Held safe for me to boast adversity—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor was't a common blow, but from above,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like his that died for imitating Jove;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which, when thou heardst, a ruin so divine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And mother-like should make thee pity mine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And on this day, which poets unto thee<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Crown with full bowls, ask what's become of me?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Help, buxom god, then! so may thy lov'd vine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Swarm with the num'rous grape, and big with wine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Load the kind elm, and so thy orgies be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With priests' loud shouts and satyrs' kept to thee!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So may in death Lycurgus ne'er be blest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor Pentheus' wand'ring ghost find any rest!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And so for ever bright—thy chief desires—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">May thy wife's crown outshine the lesser fires!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If but now, mindful of my love to thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou wilt, in what thou canst, my helper be.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You gods have commerce with yourselves; try then<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If Cæsar will restore me Rome again.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And you, my trusty friends—the jolly crew<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of careless poets! when, without me, you<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Perform this day's glad myst'ries, let it be<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Your first appeal unto his deity,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And let one of you—touch'd with my sad name—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mixing his wine with tears, lay down the same,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And—sighing—to the rest this thought commend,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O! where is Ovid now, our banish'd friend?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This do, if in your breasts I e'er deserv'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So large a share, nor spitefully reserv'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor basely sold applause, or with a brow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Condemning others, did myself allow.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And may your happier wits grow loud with fame<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As you—my best of friends!—preserve my name.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr class="major" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span></p> +<h3>[OVID, EPISTOLARUM] DE PONTO, LIB. III. [EPIST. VII.].<br /><br /> +TO HIS FRIENDS—AFTER HIS MANY SOLICITATIONS—REFUSING TO PETITION CÆSAR FOR HIS RELEASEMENT.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">You have consum'd my language, and my pen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Incens'd with begging, scorns to write again.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You grant, you knew my suit: my Muse and I<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had taught it you in frequent elegy.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That I believe—yet seal'd—you have divin'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our repetitions, and forestall'd my mind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So that my thronging elegies and I<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have made you—more than poets—prophesy.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But I am now awak'd; forgive my dream<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which made me cross the proverb and the stream,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And pardon, friends, that I so long have had<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such good thoughts of you; I am not so mad<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As to continue them. You shall no more<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Complain of troublesome verse, or write o'er<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How I endanger you, and vex my wife<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With the sad legends of a banish'd life.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'll bear these plagues myself: for I have pass'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through greater ones, and can as well at last<br /></span> +<span class="i0">These petty crosses. 'Tis for some young beast<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To kick his bands, or wish his neck releas'd<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span> +<span class="i0">From the sad yoke. Know then, that as for me<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whom Fate hath us'd to such calamity,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I scorn her spite and yours, and freely dare<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The highest ills your malice can prepare.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">'Twas Fortune threw me hither, where I now<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rude Getes and Thrace see, with the snowy brow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of cloudy Æmus, and if she decree<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her sportive pilgrim's last bed here must be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I am content; nay, more, she cannot do<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That act which I would not consent unto.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I can delight in vain hopes, and desire<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That state more than her change and smiles; then high'r<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I hug a strong despair, and think it brave<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To baffle faith, and give those hopes a grave.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have you not seen cur'd wounds enlarg'd, and he<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That with the first wave sinks, yielding to th' free<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Waters, without th' expense of arms or breath,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hath still the easiest and the quickest death.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Why nurse I sorrows then? why these desires<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of changing Scythia for the sun and fires<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of some calm kinder air? what did bewitch<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My frantic hopes to fly so vain a pitch,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thus outrun myself? Madman! could I<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Suspect fate had for me a courtesy?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">These errors grieve: and now I must forget<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Those pleas'd ideas I did frame and set<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unto myself, with many fancied springs<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And groves, whose only loss new sorrow brings.<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span> +<span class="i0">And yet I would the worst of fate endure,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ere you should be repuls'd, or less secure.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But—base, low souls!—you left me not for this,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But 'cause you durst not. Cæsar could not miss<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of such a trifle, for I know that he<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Scorns the cheap triumphs of my misery.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Then since—degen'rate friends—not he, but you<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cancel my hopes, and make afflictions new,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You shall confess, and fame shall tell you, I<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At Ister dare as well as Tiber die.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr class="major" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span></p> + +<h3>[OVID, EPISTOLARUM] DE PONTO, LIB. IV. EPIST. III.<br /><br /> + +TO HIS INCONSTANT FRIEND, TRANSLATED FOR THE USE OF ALL THE JUDASES OF +THIS TOUCHSTONE-AGE.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Shall I complain, or not? or shall I mask<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy hateful name, and in this bitter task<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Master my just impatience, and write down<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy crime alone, and leave the rest unknown?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or wilt thou the succeeding years should see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And teach thy person to posterity?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No, hope it not; for know, most wretched man,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis not thy base and weak detraction can<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Buy thee a poem, nor move me to give<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy name the honour in my verse to live.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whilst yet my ship did with no storms dispute,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And temp'rate winds fed with a calm salute<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My prosp'rous sails, thou wert the only man<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That with me then an equal fortune ran;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But now since angry heav'n with clouds and night<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stifled those sunbeams, thou hast ta'en thy flight;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou know'st I want thee, and art merely gone<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To shun that rescue I reli'd upon;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nay, thou dissemblest too, and dost disclaim<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not only my acquaintance, but my name.<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Yet know—though deaf to this—that I am he<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose years and love had the same infancy<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With thine, thy deep familiar that did share<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Souls with thee, and partake thy joys or care;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whom the same roof lodg'd, and my Muse those nights<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So solemnly endear'd to her delights.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But now, perfidious traitor, I am grown<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The abject of thy breast, not to be known<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In that false closet more; nay, thou wilt not<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So much as let me know I am forgot.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If thou wilt say thou didst not love me, then<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou didst dissemble: or if love again,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Why now inconstant? Came the crime from me<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That wrought this change? Sure, if no justice be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of my side, thine must have it. Why dost hide<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy reasons then? For me, I did so guide<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Myself and actions, that I cannot see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What could offend thee, but my misery.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Las! if thou wouldst not from thy store allow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some rescue to my wants, at least I know<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou couldst have writ, and with a line or two<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Reliev'd my famish'd eye, and eas'd me so.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I know not what to think! and yet I hear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not pleas'd with this, th'art witty, and dost jeer.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bad man! thou hast in this those tears kept back<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I could have shed for thee, shouldst thou but lack.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Know'st not that Fortune on a globe doth stand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose upper slipp'ry part without command<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Turns lowest still? the sportive leaves and wind<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are but dull emblems of her fickle mind.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the whole world there's nothing I can see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will throughly parallel her ways but thee.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All that we hold hangs on a slender twine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And our best states by sudden chance decline.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who hath not heard of Crœsus' proverb'd gold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet knows his foe did him a pris'ner hold?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He that once aw'd Sicilia's proud extent<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By a poor art could famine scarce prevent;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And mighty Pompey, ere he made an end,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was glad to beg his slave to be his friend.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nay, he that had so oft Rome's consul been,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And forc'd Jugurtha and the Cimbrians in,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Great Marius! with much want and more disgrace,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In a foul marsh was glad to hide his face.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A Divine hand sways all mankind, and we<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of one short hour have not the certainty.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hadst thou one day told me the time should be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the Getes' bows, and th' Euxine I should see,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I should have check'd thy madness, and have thought<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Th' hadst need of all Anticyra in a draught.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And yet 'tis come to pass! nor, though I might<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some things foresee, could I procure a sight<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of my whole destiny, and free my state<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From those eternal, higher ties of fate.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Leave then thy pride, and though now brave and high,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Think thou mayst be as poor and low as I.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr class="major" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span></p> +<h3>[OVID,] TRISTIUM, LIB. III. ELEG. III.<br /><br /> + +TO HIS WIFE AT ROME, WHEN HE WAS SICK.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Dearest! if you those fair eyes—wond'ring—stick<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On this strange character, know I am sick;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sick in the skirts of the lost world, where I<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Breathe hopeless of all comforts, but to die.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What heart—think'st thou?—have I in this sad seat,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tormented 'twixt the Sauromate and Gete?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor air nor water please: their very sky<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Looks strange and unaccustom'd to my eye;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I scarce dare breathe it, and, I know not how,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The earth that bears me shows unpleasant now.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor diet here's, nor lodging for my ease,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor any one that studies a disease;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No friend to comfort me, none to defray<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With smooth discourse the charges of the day.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All tir'd alone I lie, and—thus—whate'er<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is absent, and at Rome, I fancy here.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But when thou com'st, I blot the airy scroll,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And give thee full possession of my soul.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thee—absent—I embrace, thee only voice.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And night and day belie a husband's joys.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nay, of thy name so oft I mention make<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That I am thought distracted for thy sake.<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span> +<span class="i0">When my tir'd spirits fail, and my sick heart<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Draws in that fire which actuates each part,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If any say, th'art come! I force my pain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And hope to see thee gives me life again.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus I for thee, whilst thou—perhaps—more blest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Careless of me dost breathe all peace and rest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which yet I think not, for—dear soul!—too well<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Know I thy grief, since my first woes befell.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But if strict Heav'n my stock of days hath spun,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And with my life my error will be gone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How easy then—O Cæsar!—were't for thee<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To pardon one, that now doth cease to be?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That I might yield my native air this breath,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And banish not my ashes after death.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Would thou hadst either spar'd me until dead,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or with my blood redeem'd my absent head!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou shouldst have had both freely, but O! thou<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wouldst have me live to die an exile now.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And must I then from Rome so far meet death,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And double by the place my loss of breath?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor in my last of hours on my own bed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">—In the sad conflict—rest my dying head?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor my soul's whispers—the last pledge of life,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mix with the tears and kisses of a wife?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My last words none must treasure, none will rise<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And—with a tear—seal up my vanquish'd eyes;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Without these rites I die, distress'd in all<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The splendid sorrows of a funeral;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unpitied, and unmourn'd for, my sad head<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span> +<span class="i0">In a strange land goes friendless to the dead.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When thou hear'st this, O! how thy faithful soul<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will sink, whilst grief doth ev'ry part control!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How often wilt thou look this way, and cry,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O! where is't yonder that my love doth lie?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet spare these tears, and mourn not thou for me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Long since—dear heart!—have I been dead to thee.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Think then I died, when thee and Rome I lost,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That death to me more grief than this hath cost.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now, if thou canst—but thou canst not—best wife,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rejoice, my cares are ended with my life.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At least, yield not to sorrows, frequent use<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Should make these miseries to thee no news.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And here I wish my soul died with my breath,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And that no part of me were free from death;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For, if it be immortal, and outlives<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The body, as Pythagoras believes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Betwixt these Sarmates' ghosts, a Roman I<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall wander, vex'd to all eternity.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But thou—for after death I shall be free—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fetch home these bones, and what is left of me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A few flow'rs give them, with some balm, and lay<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Them in some suburb grave, hard by the way;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And to inform posterity, who's there,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This sad inscription let my marble wear;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Here lies the soft-soul'd lecturer of love,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose envi'd wit did his own ruin prove.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But thou,—whoe'er thou be'st, that, passing by,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lend'st to this sudden stone a hasty eye,<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span> +<span class="i0">If e'er thou knew'st of love the sweet disease,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Grudge not to say, May Ovid rest in peace!"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This for my tomb: but in my books they'll see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">More strong and lasting monuments of me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which I believe—though fatal—will afford<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An endless name unto their ruin'd lord.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And now thus gone, it rests, for love of me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou show'st some sorrow to my memory;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy funeral off'rings to my ashes bear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With wreaths of cypress bath'd in many a tear.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though nothing there but dust of me remain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet shall that dust perceive thy pious pain.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But I have done, and my tir'd, sickly head,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though I would fain write more, desires the bed;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Take then this word—perhaps my last—to tell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which though I want, I wish it thee, farewell!<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr class="major" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span></p> +<h3>AUSONII. IDYLL VI.<br /><br /> + +CUPIDO [CRUCI AFFIXUS].</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In those bless'd fields of everlasting air<br /></span> +<span class="i0">—Where to a myrtle grove the souls repair<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of deceas'd lovers—the sad, thoughtful ghosts<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of injur'd ladies meet, where each accosts<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The other with a sigh, whose very breath<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Would break a heart, and—kind souls—love in death.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A thick wood clouds their walks, where day scarce peeps,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And on each hand cypress and poppy sleeps;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The drowsy rivers slumber, and springs there<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Blab not, but softly melt into a tear;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A sickly dull air fans them, which can have,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When most in force, scarce breath to build a wave.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On either bank through the still shades appear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A scene of pensive flow'rs, whose bosoms wear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Drops of a lover's blood, the emblem'd truths<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of deep despair, and love-slain kings and youths.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Hyacinth, and self-enamour'd boy<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Narcissus flourish there, with Venus' joy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The spruce Adonis, and that prince whose flow'r<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hath sorrow languag'd on him to this hour;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All sad with love they hang their heads, and grieve<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span> +<span class="i0">As if their passions in each leaf did live;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And here—alas!—these soft-soul'd ladies stray,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And—O! too late!—treason in love betray.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her blasted birth sad Semele repeats,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And with her tears would quench the thund'rer's heats,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then shakes her bosom, as if fir'd again,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And fears another lightning's flaming train.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The lovely Procris here bleeds, sighs, and swoons,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then wakes, and kisses him that gave her wounds.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sad Hero holds a torch forth, and doth light<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her lost Leander through the waves and night,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her boatman desp'rate Sappho still admires,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And nothing but the sea can quench her fires.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Distracted Phædra with a restless eye<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her disdain'd letters reads, then casts them by.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rare, faithful Thisbe—sequest'red from these—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A silent, unseen sorrow doth best please;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For her love's sake and last good-night poor she<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Walks in the shadow of a mulberry.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Near her young Canace with Dido sits,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A lovely couple, but of desp'rate wits;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Both di'd alike, both pierc'd their tender breasts,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This with her father's sword, that with her guest's.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Within the thickest textures of the grove<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Diana in her silver beams doth rove;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her crown of stars the pitchy air invades,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And with a faint light gilds the silent shades,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whilst her sad thoughts, fix'd on her sleepy lover,<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span> +<span class="i0">To Latmos hill and his retirements move her.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A thousand more through the wide, darksome wood<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Feast on their cares, the maudlin lover's food;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For grief and absence do but edge desire,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And death is fuel to a lover's fire.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To see these trophies of his wanton bow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cupid comes in, and all in triumph now—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rash unadvisèd boy!—disperseth round<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sleepy mists; his wings and quiver wound<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With noise the quiet air. This sudden stir<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Betrays his godship, and as we from far<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A clouded, sickly moon observe, so they<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through the false mists his eclips'd torch betray.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A hot pursuit they make, and, though with care<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And a slow wing, he softly stems the air,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet they—as subtle now as he—surround<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His silenc'd course, and with the thick night bound<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Surprise the wag. As in a dream we strive<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To voice our thoughts, and vainly would revive<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our entranc'd tongues, but cannot speech enlarge,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Till the soul wakes and reassumes her charge;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So, joyous of their prize, they flock about<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And vainly swell with an imagin'd shout.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Far in these shades and melancholy coasts<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A myrtle grows, well known to all the ghosts,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose stretch'd top—like a great man rais'd by Fate—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Looks big, and scorns his neighbour's low estate;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His leafy arms into a green cloud twist,<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span> +<span class="i0">And on each branch doth sit a lazy mist,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A fatal tree, and luckless to the gods,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where for disdain in life—Love's worst of odds—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The queen of shades, fair Proserpine, did rack<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sad Adonis: hither now they pack<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This little god, where, first disarm'd, they bind<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His skittish wings, then both his hands behind<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His back they tie, and thus secur'd at last,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The peevish wanton to the tree make fast.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here at adventure, without judge or jury,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He is condemn'd, while with united fury<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They all assail him. As a thief at bar<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Left to the law, and mercy of his star,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hath bills heap'd on him, and is question'd there<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By all the men that have been robb'd that year;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So now whatever Fate or their own will<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Scor'd up in life, Cupid must pay the bill.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their servant's falsehood, jealousy, disdain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all the plagues that abus'd maids can feign,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are laid on him, and then to heighten spleen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their own deaths crown the sum. Press'd thus between<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His fair accusers, 'tis at last decreed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He by those weapons, that they died, should bleed.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One grasps an airy sword, a second holds<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Illusive fire, and in vain wanton folds<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Belies a flame; others, less kind, appear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To let him blood, and from the purple tear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Create a rose. But Sappho all this while<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Harvests the air, and from a thicken'd pile<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of clouds like Leucas top spreads underneath<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A sea of mists; the peaceful billows breathe<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Without all noise, yet so exactly move<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They seem to chide, but distant from above<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Reach not the ear, and—thus prepar'd—at once<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She doth o'erwhelm him with the airy sconce.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Amidst these tumults, and as fierce as they,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Venus steps in, and without thought or stay<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Invades her son; her old disgrace is cast<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Into the bill, when Mars and she made fast<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In their embraces were expos'd to all<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The scene of gods, stark naked in their fall.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor serves a verbal penance, but with haste<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From her fair brow—O happy flow'rs so plac'd!—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She tears a rosy garland, and with this<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whips the untoward boy; they gently kiss<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His snowy skin, but she with angry haste<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Doubles her strength, until bedew'd at last<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With a thin bloody sweat, their innate red,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">—As if griev'd with the act—grew pale and dead.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This laid their spleen; and now—kind souls—no more<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They'll punish him; the torture that he bore<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Seems greater than his crime; with joint consent<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fate is made guilty, and he innocent.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As in a dream with dangers we contest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And fictious pains seem to afflict our rest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So, frighted only in these shades of night,<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Cupid—got loose—stole to the upper light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where ever since—for malice unto these—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The spiteful ape doth either sex displease.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But O! that had these ladies been so wise<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To keep his arms, and give him but his eyes!<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr class="major" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="BOETHIUS_DE_CONSOLATIONE" id="BOETHIUS_DE_CONSOLATIONE"></a> +BOET[HIUS, DE CONSOLATIONE]</h3> + +<h4>LIB. I. METRUM I.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I whose first year flourish'd with youthful verse,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In slow, sad numbers now my grief rehearse.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A broken style my sickly lines afford,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And only tears give weight unto my words.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet neither fate nor force my Muse could fright,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The only faithful consort of my flight.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus what was once my green years' greatest glory,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is now my comfort, grown decay'd and hoary;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For killing cares th' effects of age spurr'd on,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That grief might find a fitting mansion;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'er my young head runs an untimely grey,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And my loose skin shrinks at my blood's decay.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Happy the man, whose death in prosp'rous years<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Strikes not, nor shuns him in his age and tears!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But O! how deaf is she to hear the cry<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of th' oppress'd soul, or shut the weeping eye!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While treach'rous Fortune with slight honours fed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My first estate, she almost drown'd my head,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And now since—clouded thus—she hides those rays,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Life adds unwelcom'd length unto my days.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Why then, my friends, judg'd you my state so good?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He that may fall once, never firmly stood.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span></div></div> + + +<h4>METRUM II.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O in what haste, with clouds and night<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Eclips'd, and having lost her light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The dull soul whom distraction rends<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Into outward darkness tends!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How often—by these mists made blind—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have earthly cares oppress'd the mind!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">This soul, sometimes wont to survey<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The spangled Zodiac's fiery way,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Saw th' early sun in roses dress'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With the cool moon's unstable crest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And whatsoever wanton star,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In various courses near or far,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pierc'd through the orbs, he could full well<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Track all her journey, and would tell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her mansions, turnings, rise and fall,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By curious calculation all.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of sudden winds the hidden cause,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And why the calm sea's quiet face<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With impetuous waves is curl'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What spirit wheels th' harmonious world,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or why a star dropp'd in the west<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is seen to rise again by east,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who gives the warm Spring temp'rate hours,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Decking the Earth with spicy flow'rs,<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Or how it comes—for man's recruit—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That Autumn yields both grape and fruit,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With many other secrets, he<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Could show the cause and mystery.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But now that light is almost out,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the brave soul lies chain'd about<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With outward cares, whose pensive weight<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sinks down her eyes from their first height.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And clean contrary to her birth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pores on this vile and foolish Earth.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span></div></div> + + +<h4>METRUM IV.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Whose calm soul in a settled state<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Kicks under foot the frowns of Fate,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in his fortunes, bad or good,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Keeps the same temper in his blood;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not him the flaming clouds above,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor Ætna's fiery tempests move;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No fretting seas from shore to shore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Boiling with indignation o'er,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor burning thunderbolt that can<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A mountain shake, can stir this man.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dull cowards then! why should we start<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To see these tyrants act their part?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor hope, nor fear what may befall,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And you disarm their malice all.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But who doth faintly fear or wish,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sets no law to what is his,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hath lost the buckler, and—poor elf!—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Makes up a chain to bind himself.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span></div></div> + + +<h4>METRUM V.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O Thou great builder of this starry frame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who fix'd in Thy eternal throne doth tame<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The rapid spheres, and lest they jar<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hast giv'n a law to ev'ry star.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou art the cause that now the moon<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With fall orb dulls the stars, and soon<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Again grows dark, her light being done,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The nearer still she's to the sun.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou in the early hours of night<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mak'st the cool evening-star shine bright,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And at sun-rising—'cause the least—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Look pale and sleepy in the east.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou, when the leaves in winter stray,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Appoint'st the sun a shorter way,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in the pleasant summer light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With nimble hours dost wing the night.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy hand the various year quite through<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Discreetly tempers, that what now<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The north-wind tears from ev'ry tree<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In spring again restor'd we see.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then what the winter stars between<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The furrows in mere seed have seen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The dog-star since—grown up and born—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hath burnt in stately, full-ear'd corn.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thus by creation's law controll'd<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a></span> +<span class="i0">All things their proper stations hold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Observing—as Thou didst intend—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Why they were made, and for what end.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Only human actions Thou<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hast no care of, but to the flow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And ebb of Fortune leav'st them all.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hence th' innocent endures that thrall<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Due to the wicked; whilst alone<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They sit possessors of his throne.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The just are kill'd, and virtue lies<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Buried in obscurities;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And—which of all things is most sad—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The good man suffers by the bad.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No perjuries, nor damn'd pretence<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Colour'd with holy, lying sense<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Can them annoy, but when they mind<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To try their force, which most men find,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They from the highest sway of things<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Can pull down great and pious kings.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O then at length, thus loosely hurl'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Look on this miserable world,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whoe'er Thou art, that from above<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dost in such order all things move!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And let not man—of divine art<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not the least, nor vilest part—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By casual evils thus bandied, be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sport of Fate's obliquity.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But with that faith Thou guid'st the heaven<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Settle this earth, and make them even.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a></span></div></div> + +<h4>METRUM VI.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When the Crab's fierce constellation<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Burns with the beams of the bright sun,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then he that will go out to sow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall never reap, where he did plough,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But instead of corn may rather<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The old world's diet, acorns, gather.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who the violet doth love,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Must seek her in the flow'ry grove,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But never when the North's cold wind<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The russet fields with frost doth bind.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If in the spring-time—to no end—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The tender vine for grapes we bend,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We shall find none, for only—still—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Autumn doth the wine-press fill.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thus for all things—in the world's prime—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wise God seal'd their proper time,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor will permit those seasons, He<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ordain'd by turns, should mingled be;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then whose wild actions out of season<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cross to Nature, and her reason,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Would by new ways old orders rend,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall never find a happy end.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</a></span></div></div> + + +<h4>METRUM VII.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Curtain'd with clouds in a dark night,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The stars cannot send forth their light.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And if a sudden southern blast<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sea in rolling waves doth cast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That angry element doth boil,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And from the deep with stormy coil<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Spews up the sands, which in short space<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Scatter, and puddle his curl'd face.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then those calm waters, which but now<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stood clear as heaven's unclouded brow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And like transparent glass did lie<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Open to ev'ry searcher's eye,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Look foully stirr'd and—though desir'd—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Resist the sight, because bemir'd.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So often from a high hill's brow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some pilgrim-spring is seen to flow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in a straight line keep her course,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Till from a rock with headlong force<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some broken piece blocks up the way,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And forceth all her streams astray.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Then thou that with enlighten'd rays<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wouldst see the truth, and in her ways<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Keep without error; neither fear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The future, nor too much give ear<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</a></span> +<span class="i0">To present joys; and give no scope<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To grief, nor much to flatt'ring hope.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For when these rebels reign, the mind<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is both a pris'ner, and stark blind.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</a></span></div></div> + + +<h4>LIB. II. METRUM I.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Fortune—when with rash hands she quite turmoils<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The state of things, and in tempestuous foils<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Comes whirling like Euripus—beats quite down<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With headlong force the highest monarch's crown,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in his place, unto the throne doth fetch<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The despis'd looks of some mechanic wretch:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So jests at tears and miseries, is proud,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And laughs to hear her vassals groan aloud.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">These are her sports, thus she her wheel doth drive,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And plagues man with her blind prerogative;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor is't a favour of inferior strain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If once kick'd down, she lets him rise again.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</a></span></div></div> + + +<h4>METRUM II.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">If with an open, bounteous hand<br /></span> +<span class="i2">—Wholly left at man's command—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Fortune should in one rich flow<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As many heaps on him bestow<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of massy gold, as there be sands<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Toss'd by the waves and winds rude bands,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or bright stars in a winter night<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Decking their silent orbs with light;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Yet would his lust know no restraints,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor cease to weep in sad complaints.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Though Heaven should his vows regard,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And in a prodigal reward<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Return him all he could implore,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Adding new honours to his store,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Yet all were nothing. Goods in sight<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Are scorn'd, and lust in greedy flight<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Lays out for more; what measure then<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Can tame these wild desires of men?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Since all we give both last and first<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Doth but inflame, and feed their thirst.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For how can he be rich, who 'midst his store<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sits sadly pining, and believes he's poor.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</a></span></div></div> + + +<h4>METRUM III.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">When the sun from his rosy bed<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The dawning light begins to shed,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The drowsy sky uncurtains round,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the—but now bright—stars all drown'd<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In one great light look dull and tame,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And homage his victorious flame.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thus, when the warm Etesian wind<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The Earth's seal'd bosom doth unbind,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Straight she her various store discloses,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And purples every grove with roses;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But if the South's tempestuous breath<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Breaks forth, those blushes pine to death.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Oft in a quiet sky the deep<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With unmov'd waves seems fast asleep,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And oft again the blust'ring North<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In angry heaps provokes them forth.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">If then this world, which holds all nations,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Suffers itself such alterations,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That not this mighty massy frame,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor any part of it can claim<br /></span> +<span class="i2">One certain course, why should man prate,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or censure the designs of Fate?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Why from frail honours, and goods lent<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Should he expect things permanent?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since 'tis enacted by Divine decree<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That nothing mortal shall eternal be.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span></div></div> + + +<h4>METRUM IV.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Who wisely would for his retreat<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Build a secure and lasting seat,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where stov'd in silence he may sleep<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beneath the wind, above the deep;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let him th' high hills leave on one hand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And on the other the false sand.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The first to winds lies plain and even,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From all the blust'ring points of heaven;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The other, hollow and unsure,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No weight of building will endure.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Avoiding then the envied state<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of buildings bravely situate,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Remember thou thyself to lock<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Within some low neglected rock.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There when fierce heaven in thunder chides,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And winds and waves rage on all sides,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou happy in the quiet sense<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of thy poor cell, with small expense<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall lead a life serene and fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And scorn the anger of the air.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span></div></div> + +<h4>METRUM V.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Happy that first white age! when we<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lived by the Earth's mere charity.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No soft luxurious diet then<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had effeminated men,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No other meat, nor wine had any<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than the coarse mast, or simple honey,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And by the parents' care laid up<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cheap berries did the children sup.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No pompous wear was in those days<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of gummy silks, or scarlet baize,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their beds were on some flow'ry brink,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And clear spring-water was their drink.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The shady pine in the sun's heat<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was their cool and known retreat,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For then 'twas not cut down, but stood<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The youth and glory of the wood.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The daring sailor with his slaves<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then had not cut the swelling waves,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor for desire of foreign store<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Seen any but his native shore.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No stirring drum had scarr'd that age,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor the shrill trumpet's active rage,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No wounds by bitter hatred made<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With warm blood soil'd the shining blade;<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span> +<span class="i0">For how could hostile madness arm<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An age of love, to public harm?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When common justice none withstood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor sought rewards for spilling blood.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O that at length our age would raise<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Into the temper of those days!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But—worse than Ætna's fires!—debate<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And avarice inflame our State.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alas! who was it that first found<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gold, hid of purpose under ground,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That sought our pearls, and div'd to find<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such precious perils for mankind!<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</a></span></div></div> + +<h4>METRUM VII.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He that thirsts for glory's prize,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thinking that the top of all,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let him view th' expansèd skies,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the earth's contracted ball;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twill shame him then: the name he wan<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fills not the short walk of one man.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h4>2</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O why vainly strive you then<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To shake off the bands of Fate,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though Fame through the world of men<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Should in all tongues your names relate,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And with proud titles swell that story:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The dark grave scorns your brightest glory.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h4>3</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There with nobles beggars sway,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And kings with commons share one dust.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What news of Brutus at this day,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or Fabricius the just?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some rude verse, cut in stone, or lead,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Keeps up the names, but they are dead.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a></span></div></div> + + +<h4>4</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">So shall you one day—past reprieve—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Lie—perhaps—without a name.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But if dead you think to live<br /></span> +<span class="i2">By this air of human fame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Know, when Time stops that posthume breath,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You must endure a second death.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</a></span></div></div> + +<h4>METRUM VIII.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">That the world in constant force<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Varies her concordant course;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That seeds jarring hot and cold<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Do the breed perpetual hold;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That in his golden coach the sun<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Brings the rosy day still on;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That the moon sways all those lights<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which Hesper ushers to dark nights;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That alternate tides be found<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sea's ambitious waves to bound,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lest o'er the wide earth without end<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their fluid empire should extend;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All this frame of things that be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love which rules heaven, land, and sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Chains, keeps, orders as we see.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This, if the reins he once cast by,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All things that now by turns comply<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Would fall to discord, and this frame<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which now by social faith they tame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And comely orders, in that fight<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And jar of things would perish quite.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This in a holy league of peace<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Keeps king and people with increase;<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</a></span> +<span class="i0">And in the sacred nuptial bands<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ties up chaste hearts with willing hands;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And this keeps firm without all doubt<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Friends by his bright instinct found out.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O happy nation then were you,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If love, which doth all things subdue,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That rules the spacious heav'n, and brings<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Plenty and peace upon his wings,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Might rule you too! and without guile<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Settle once more this floating isle!<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr class="major" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="CASIMIRUS_LYRICORUM_LIB_IV_ODE_XXVIII" id="CASIMIRUS_LYRICORUM_LIB_IV_ODE_XXVIII"></a> +CASIMIRUS, [LYRICORUM] LIB. IV. ODE XXVIII.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Almighty Spirit! Thou that by<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Set turns and changes from Thy high<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And glorious throne dost here below<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rule all, and all things dost foreknow!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Can those blind plots we here discuss<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Please Thee, as Thy wise counsels us?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When Thou Thy blessings here doth strow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And pour on earth, we flock and flow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With joyous strife and eager care,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Struggling which shall have the best share<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In Thy rich gifts, just as we see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Children about nuts disagree.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some that a crown have got and foil'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Break it; another sees it spoil'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ere it is gotten. Thus the world<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is all to piecemeals cut, and hurl'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By factious hands. It is a ball<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which Fate and force divide 'twixt all<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sons of men. But, O good God!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While these for dust fight, and a clod,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Grant that poor I may smile, and be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At rest and perfect peace with Thee!<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr class="major" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[145]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="CASIMIRUS_LYRICORUM_LIB_II_ODE_VII" id="CASIMIRUS_LYRICORUM_LIB_II_ODE_VII"></a> +CASIMIRUS, [LYRICORUM] LIB. II. ODE VII.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">It would less vex distressèd man<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If Fortune in the same pace ran<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To ruin him, as he did rise.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But highest States fall in a trice;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No great success held ever long;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A restless fate afflicts the throng<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of kings and commons, and less days<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Serve to destroy them than to raise.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Good luck smiles once an age, but bad<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Makes kingdoms in a minute sad,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And ev'ry hour of life we drive,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hath o'er us a prerogative.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Then leave—by wild impatience driv'n,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And rash resents—to rail at heav'n;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Leave an unmanly, weak complaint<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That death and fate have no restraint.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the same hour that gave thee breath,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou hadst ordain'd thy hour of death,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But he lives most who here will buy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With a few tears, eternity.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr class="major" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[146]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="CASIMIRUS_LYRICORUM_LIB_III_ODE_XXII" id="CASIMIRUS_LYRICORUM_LIB_III_ODE_XXII"></a> +CASIMIRUS, [LYRICORUM] LIB. III. ODE XXII.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Let not thy youth and false delights<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cheat thee of life; those heady flights<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But waste thy time, which posts away<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like winds unseen, and swift as they.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beauty is but mere paint, whose dye<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With Time's breath will dissolve and fly;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis wax, 'tis water, 'tis a glass,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It melts, breaks, and away doth pass.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis like a rose which in the dawn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The air with gentle breath doth fawn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And whisper to, but in the hours<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of night is sullied with smart showers.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Life spent is wish'd for but in vain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor can past years come back again.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Happy the man, who in this vale<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Redeems his time, shutting out all<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thoughts of the world, whose longing eyes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are ever pilgrims in the skies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That views his bright home, and desires<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To shine amongst those glorious fires!<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr class="major" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="CASIMIRUS_LYRICORUM_LIB_III_ODE_XXIII" +id="CASIMIRUS_LYRICORUM_LIB_III_ODE_XXIII"></a> +CASIMIRUS, LYRIC[ORUM] LIB. III. ODE XXIII.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Tis not rich furniture and gems,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With cedar roofs and ancient stems,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor yet a plenteous, lasting flood<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of gold, that makes man truly good.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Leave to inquire in what fair fields<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A river runs which much gold yields;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Virtue alone is the rich prize<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Can purchase stars, and buy the skies.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let others build with adamant,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or pillars of carv'd marble plant,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which rude and rough sometimes did dwell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Far under earth, and near to hell.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But richer much—from death releas'd—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shines in the fresh groves of the East<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The phœnix, or those fish that dwell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With silver'd scales in Hiddekel.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let others with rare, various pearls<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their garments dress, and in forc'd curls<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bind up their locks, look big and high,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And shine in robes of scarlet dye.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But in my thoughts more glorious far<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Those native stars and speckles are<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which birds wear, or the spots which we<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</a></span> +<span class="i0">In leopards dispersèd see.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The harmless sheep with her warm fleece<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Clothes man, but who his dark heart sees<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall find a wolf or fox within,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That kills the castor for his skin.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Virtue alone, and nought else can<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A diff'rence make 'twixt beasts and man;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And on her wings above the spheres<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the true light his spirit bears.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr class="major" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="CASIMIRUS_LYRICORUM_LIB_IV_ODE_XV" id="CASIMIRUS_LYRICORUM_LIB_IV_ODE_XV"></a> +CASIMIRUS, [LYRICORUM] LIB. IV. ODE XV.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Nothing on earth, nothing at all<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Can be exempted from the thrall<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of peevish weariness! The sun,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which our forefathers judg'd to run<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Clear and unspotted, in our days<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is tax'd with sullen eclips'd rays.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whatever in the glorious sky<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Man sees, his rash audacious eye<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dares censure it, and in mere spite<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At distance will condemn the light.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wholesome mornings, whose beams clear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Those hills our fathers walk'd on here,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We fancy not; nor the moon's light<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which through their windows shin'd at night<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We change the air each year, and scorn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Those seats in which we first were born.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some nice, affected wand'rers love<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Belgia's mild winters, others remove,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For want of health and honesty,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To summer it in Italy;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But to no end; the disease still<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sticks to his lord, and kindly will<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</a></span> +<span class="i0">To Venice in a barge repair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or coach it to Vienna's air;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And then—too late with home content—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They leave this wilful banishment.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But he, whose constancy makes sure<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His mind and mansion, lives secure<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From such vain tasks, can dine and sup<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where his old parents bred him up.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Content—no doubt!—most times doth dwell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In country shades, or to some cell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Confines itself; and can alone<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Make simple straw a royal throne.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr class="major" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[151]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="CASIMIRUS_LYRICORUM_LIB_IV_ODE_XIII" id="CASIMIRUS_LYRICORUM_LIB_IV_ODE_XIII"></a> +CASIMIRUS, [LYRICORUM] LIB. IV. ODE XIII.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">If weeping eyes could wash away<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Those evils they mourn for night and day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then gladly I to cure my fears<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With my best jewels would buy tears.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But as dew feeds the growing corn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So crosses that are grown forlorn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Increase with grief, tears make tears' way,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And cares kept up keep cares in pay.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That wretch whom Fortune finds to fear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And melting still into a tear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She strikes more boldly, but a face<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Silent and dry doth her amaze.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then leave thy tears, and tedious tale<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of what thou dost misfortunes call.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What thou by weeping think'st to ease,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Doth by that passion but increase;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hard things to soft will never yield,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis the dry eye that wins the field;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A noble patience quells the spite<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of Fortune, and disarms her quite.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr class="major" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="THE_PRAISE_OF_A_RELIGIOUS_LIFE_BY_MATHIAS_CASIMIRUS_EPODON_ODE_III" +id="THE_PRAISE_OF_A_RELIGIOUS_LIFE_BY_MATHIAS_CASIMIRUS_EPODON_ODE_III"></a> +THE PRAISE OF A RELIGIOUS LIFE BY MATHIAS CASIMIRUS. [EPODON ODE III.] +IN ANSWER TO THAT ODE OF HORACE, BEATUS ILLE QUI PROCUL NEGOTIIS, &c.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Flaccus, not so! that worldly he<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whom in the country's shade we see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ploughing his own fields, seldom can<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Be justly styl'd the blessed man.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That title only fits a saint,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose free thoughts, far above restraint<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And weighty cares, can gladly part<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With house and lands, and leave the smart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Litigious troubles and loud strife<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of this world for a better life.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He fears no cold nor heat to blast<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His corn, for his accounts are cast;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He sues no man, nor stands in awe<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the devouring courts of law;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But all his time he spends in tears<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For the sins of his youthful years;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or having tasted those rich joys<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of a conscience without noise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sits in some fair shade, and doth give<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[153]</a></span> +<span class="i0">To his wild thoughts rules how to live.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He in the evening, when on high<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The stars shine in the silent sky,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beholds th' eternal flames with mirth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And globes of light more large than Earth;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then weeps for joy, and through his tears<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Looks on the fire-enamell'd spheres,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where with his Saviour he would be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lifted above mortality.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Meanwhile the golden stars do set,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the slow pilgrim leave all wet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With his own tears, which flow so fast<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They make his sleeps light, and soon past.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By this, the sun o'er night deceas'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Breaks in fresh blushes from the East,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When, mindful of his former falls,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With strong cries to his God he calls,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And with such deep-drawn sighs doth move<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That He turns anger into love.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In the calm Spring, when the Earth bears,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And feeds on April's breath and tears,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His eyes, accustom'd to the skies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Find here fresh objects, and like spies<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or busy bees, search the soft flow'rs,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Contemplate the green fields and bow'rs,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where he in veils and shades doth see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The back parts of the Deity.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then sadly sighing says, "O! how<br /></span> +<span class="i0">These flow'rs with hasty, stretch'd heads grow<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[154]</a></span> +<span class="i0">And strive for heav'n, but rooted here<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lament the distance with a tear!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The honeysuckles clad in white,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The rose in red, point to the light;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the lilies, hollow and bleak,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Look as if they would something speak;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They sigh at night to each soft gale,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And at the day-spring weep it all.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall I then only—wretched I!—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oppress'd with earth, on earth still lie?"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus speaks he to the neighbour trees,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And many sad soliloquies<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To springs and fountains doth impart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Seeking God with a longing heart.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But if to ease his busy breast<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He thinks of home, and taking rest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A rural cot and common fare<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are all his cordials against care.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There at the door of his low cell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Under some shade, or near some well<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the cool poplar grows, his plate<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of common earth without more state<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Expect their lord. Salt in a shell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Green cheese, thin beer, draughts that will tell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No tales, a hospitable cup,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With some fresh berries, do make up<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His healthful feast; nor doth he wish<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For the fat carp, or a rare dish<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of Lucrine oysters; the swift quist<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[155]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Or pigeon sometimes—if he list—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With the slow goose that loves the stream,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fresh, various salads, and the bean<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By curious palates never sought,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, to close with, some cheap unbought<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dish for digestion, are the most<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And choicest dainties he can boast.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thus feasted, to the flow'ry groves<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or pleasant rivers he removes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where near some fair oak, hung with mast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He shuns the South's infectious blast.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On shady banks sometimes he lies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sometimes the open current tries,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where with his line and feather'd fly<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He sports, and takes the scaly fry.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Meanwhile each hollow wood and hill<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Doth ring with lowings long and shrill,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And shady lakes with rivers deep<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Echo the bleating of the sheep;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The blackbird with the pleasant thrush<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And nightingale in ev'ry bush<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Choice music give, and shepherds play<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unto their flock some loving lay!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The thirsty reapers, in thick throngs,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Return home from the field with songs,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the carts, laden with ripe corn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Come groaning to the well-stor'd barn.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor pass we by, as the least good,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A peaceful, loving neighbourhood,<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[156]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Whose honest wit, and chaste discourse<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Make none—by hearing it—the worse,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But innocent and merry, may<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Help—without sin—to spend the day.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Could now the tyrant usurer,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who plots to be a purchaser<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of his poor neighbour's seat, but taste<br /></span> +<span class="i0">These true delights, O! with what haste<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And hatred of his ways, would he<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Renounce his Jewish cruelty,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And those curs'd sums, which poor men borrow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On use to-day, remit to-morrow!<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr class="major" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[157]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="AD_FLUVIUM_ISCAM" id="AD_FLUVIUM_ISCAM"></a>AD FLUVIUM ISCAM.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Isca parens florum, placido qui spumeus ore<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Lambis lapillos aureos;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Qui mæstos hyacinthos, et picti +<span title='anthea'>ἄνθεα</span> + tophi<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Mulces susurris humidis;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dumque novas pergunt menses consumere lunas<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Cœlumque mortales terit,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Accumulas cum sole dies, ævumque per omne<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Fidelis induras latex;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O quis inaccessos et quali murmure lucos<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Mutumque solaris nemus!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Per te discerpti credo Thracis ire querelas<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Plectrumque divini senis.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr class="major" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[158]</a></span></p> +<h3> +<a name="VENERABILI_VIRO_PRAECEPTORI_SUO_OLIM_ET_SEMPER_COLENDISSIMO_MAGISTRO" +id="VENERABILI_VIRO_PRAECEPTORI_SUO_OLIM_ET_SEMPER_COLENDISSIMO_MAGISTRO"></a> +VENERABILI VIRO PRÆCEPTORI SUO OLIM ET SEMPER COLENDISSIMO MAGISTRO +MATHÆO HERBERT.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Quod vixi, Mathæe, dedit pater, hæc tamen olim<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Vita fluat, nec erit fas meminisse datam.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ultra curasti solers, perituraque mecum<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nomina post cineres das resonare meos.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Divide discipulum: brevis hæc et lubrica nostri<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Pars vertat patri, posthuma vita tibi.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr class="major" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[159]</a></span></p> +<h3> +<a name="PRAESTANTISSIMO_VIRO_THOMAE_POELLO_IN_SUUM_DE_ELEMENTIS_OPTICAE" +id="PRAESTANTISSIMO_VIRO_THOMAE_POELLO_IN_SUUM_DE_ELEMENTIS_OPTICAE"></a> +PRÆSTANTISSIMO VIRO THOMÆ POËLLO IN SUUM DE ELEMENTIS OPTICÆ +LIBELLUM.<a name="FNanchor_56_56" id="FNanchor_56_56"></a><a href="#Footnote_56_56" class="fnanchor">[56]</a></h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Vivaces oculorum ignes et lumina dia<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Fixit in angusto maximus orbe Deus;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ille explorantes radios dedit, et vaga lustra<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In quibus intuitus lexque, modusque latent.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hos tacitos jactus, lususque, volubilis orbis<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Pingis in exiguo, magne<a name="FNanchor_57_57" id="FNanchor_57_57"></a><a href="#Footnote_57_57" class="fnanchor">[57]</a> Poëlle, libro,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Excursusque situsque ut Lynceus opticus, edis,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Quotque modis fallunt, quotque adhibenda fides.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Æmula Naturæ manus! et mens conscia cœli.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ilia videre dedit, vestra videre docet.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_56_56" id="Footnote_56_56"></a><a href="#FNanchor_56_56"><span class="label">[56]</span></a> The version in <i>Elementa Opticæ</i> has <i>Eximio viro, et +amicorum longè optimo, T. P. in hunc suum de Elementis Opticæ +libellum</i>.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_57_57" id="Footnote_57_57"></a><a href="#FNanchor_57_57"><span class="label">[57]</span></a> <i>El. Opt.</i> has <i>docte</i>.</p></div> + +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[160]</a></span></p> + +<h3><a name="AD_ECHUM" id="AD_ECHUM"></a>AD ECHUM.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O quæ frondosæ per amœna cubilia silvæ<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nympha volas, lucoque loquax spatiaris in alto,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Annosi numen nemoris, saltusque verendi<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Effatum, cui sola placent postrema relatus!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Te per Narcissi morientis verba, precesque<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Per pueri lassatam animam, et conamina vitæ<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ultima, palantisque precor suspiria linguæ.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Da quo secretæ hæc incædua devia silvæ,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Anfractusque loci dubios, et lustra repandam.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sic tibi perpetua—meritoque—hæc regna juventa<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Luxurient, dabiturque tuis, sine fine, viretis<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Intactas lunæ lachrymas, et lambere rorem<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Virgineum, cœlique animas haurire tepentis.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nec cedant ævo stellis, sed lucida semper<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Et satiata sacro æterni medicamine veris<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ostendant longe vegetos, ut sidera, vultus!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sic spiret muscata comas, et cinnama passim!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Diffundat levis umbra, in funere qualia spargit<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Phœnicis rogus aut Pancheæ nubila flammæ!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[161]</a></span></p> + +<hr class="major" /> + +<h2 style='line-height:2em;font-size:200%;'> +<a name="THALIA_REDIVIVA" id="THALIA_REDIVIVA"></a> + THALIA REDIVIVA.<br /> + +<span style='font-size:50%;'>1678</span>. +</h2> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[162]</a></span></p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[163]</a></span></p> + +<h3> +<a name="TO_THE_MOST_HONOURABLE_AND_TRULY_NOBLE_HENRY_LORD_MARQUIS_AND_EARL_OF" +id="TO_THE_MOST_HONOURABLE_AND_TRULY_NOBLE_HENRY_LORD_MARQUIS_AND_EARL_OF"></a> +TO THE MOST HONOURABLE AND TRULY NOBLE HENRY, LORD MARQUIS AND EARL OF +WORCESTER, &c.</h3> + +<p>My Lord,</p> + +<p>Though dedications are now become a kind of tyranny over the peace and +repose of great men; yet I have confidence I shall so manage the present +address as to entertain your lordship without much disturbance; and +because my purposes are governed by deep respect and veneration, I hope +to find your Lordship more facile and accessible. And I am already +absolved from a great part of that fulsome and designing guilt, being +sufficiently removed from the causes of it: for I consider, my Lord, +that you are already so well known to the world in your several +characters and advantages of honour—it was yours by traduction, and the +adjunct of your nativity; you were swaddled and rocked in't, bred up and +grew in't, to your now wonderful height and eminence—that for me under +pretence of the inscription, to give you the heraldry of your family, or +to carry your person through the famed topics of mind, body, or estate, +were all one as to persuade the world that fire and light were very +bright bodies, or that the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[164]</a></span> luminaries themselves had glory. In point of +protection I beg to fall in with the common wont, and to be satisfied by +the reasonableness of the thing, and abundant worthy precedents; and +although I should have secret prophecy and assurance that the ensuing +verse would live eternally, yet would I, as I now do, humbly crave it +might be fortified with your patronage; for so the sextile aspects and +influences are watched for, and applied to the actions of life, thereby +to make the scheme and good auguries of the birth pass into Fate, and a +success infallible.</p> + +<p>My Lord, by a happy obliging intercession, and your own consequent +indulgence, I have now recourse to your Lordship, hoping I shall not +much displease by putting these twin poets into your hands. The minion +and vertical planet of the Roman lustre and bravery, was never better +pleased than when he had a whole constellation about him: not his +finishing five several wars to the promoting of his own interest, nor +particularly the prodigious success at Actium where he held in chase the +wealth, beauty and prowess of the East; not the triumphs and absolute +dominions which followed: all this gave him not half that serene pride +and satisfaction of spirit as when he retired himself to umpire the +different excellencies of his insipid friends, and to distribute laurels +among his poetic heroes. If now upon the authority of this and several +such examples, I had the ability and opportunity of drawing the value +and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[165]</a></span> strange worth of a poet, and withal of applying some of the +lineaments to the following pieces, I should then do myself a real +service, and atone in a great measure for the present insolence. But +best of all will it serve my defence and interest, to appeal to your +Lordship's own conceptions and image of genuine verse; with which so +just, so regular original, if these copies shall hold proportion and +resemblance, then am I advanced very far in your Lordship's pardon: the +rest will entirely be supplied me by your Lordship's goodness, and my +own awful zeal of being, my Lord,</p> + +<p> +Your Lordship's most obedient,<br /> +<span style='margin-left:6em;'>most humbly devoted servant,</span><br /> +<span style='margin-left:12em;'>J. W.</span></p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[166]</a></span></p> + +<hr class="major" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[167]</a></span></p> + +<h3>TO THE READER.</h3> + + +<p>The Nation of Poets above all Writers has ever challenged perpetuity of +name, or as they please by their charter of liberty to call it, +Immortality. Nor has the World much disputed their claim, either easily +resigning a patrimony in itself not very substantial; or, it may be, out +of despair to control the authority of inspiration and oracle. Howsoever +the price as now quarrelled for among the poets themselves is no such +rich bargain: it is only a vanishing interest in the lees and dregs of +Time, in the rear of those Fathers and Worthies in the art, who if they +know anything of the heats and fury of their successors, must extremely +pity them.</p> + +<p>I am to assure, that the Author has no portion of that airy happiness to +lose, by any injury or unkindness which may be done to his Verse: his +reputation is better built in the sentiment of several judicious +persons, who know him very well able to give himself a lasting monument, +by undertaking any argument of note in the whole circle of learning.</p> + +<p>But even these his Diversions have been valuable +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[168]</a></span> +with the matchless +Orinda; and since they deserved her esteem and commendations, who so +thinks them not worth the publishing, will put himself in the opposite +scale, where his own arrogance will blow him up.</p> + +<p style='text-align:right; margin-right:2em;'>I. W.</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[169]</a></span></p> + +<h3><a name="TO_MR_HENRY_VAUGHAN_THE_SILURIST_UPON_THESE_AND_HIS_FORMER_POEMS" +id="TO_MR_HENRY_VAUGHAN_THE_SILURIST_UPON_THESE_AND_HIS_FORMER_POEMS"></a> +TO MR. HENRY VAUGHAN THE SILURIST: UPON THESE AND HIS FORMER POEMS.<a name="FNanchor_58_58" id="FNanchor_58_58"></a><a href="#Footnote_58_58" class="fnanchor">[58]</a> +</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Had I ador'd the multitude, and thence<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Got an antipathy to wit and sense,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And hugg'd that fate, in hope the world would grant<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twas good affection to be ignorant;<a name="FNanchor_59_59" id="FNanchor_59_59"></a><a href="#Footnote_59_59" class="fnanchor">[59]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet the least ray of thy bright fancy seen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I had converted, or excuseless been.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For each birth of thy Muse to after-times<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall expiate for all this Age's crimes.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">First shines thy Amoret, twice crown'd by thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Once by thy love, next by thy poetry;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where thou the best of unions dost dispense,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Truth cloth'd in wit, and Love in innocence;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So that the muddy lover may learn here,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No fountains can be sweet that are not clear.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There Juvenal, by thee reviv'd, declares<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How flat man's joys are, and how mean his cares;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And wisely doth upbraid<a name="FNanchor_60_60" id="FNanchor_60_60"></a><a href="#Footnote_60_60" class="fnanchor">[60]</a> the world, that they<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Should such a value for their ruin pay.<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[170]</a></span> +<span class="i2">But when thy sacred Muse diverts her quil<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The landscape to design of Sion's hill,<a name="FNanchor_61_61" id="FNanchor_61_61"></a><a href="#Footnote_61_61" class="fnanchor">[61]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">As nothing else was worthy her, or thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So we admire almost t' idolatry.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What savage breast would not be rapt to find<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such jewels in such cabinets enshrin'd?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou fill'd with joys—too great to see or count—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Descend'st from thence, like Moses from the Mount,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And with a candid, yet unquestion'd awe<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Restor'st the Golden Age, when Verse was Law.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Instructing us, thou so secur'st<a name="FNanchor_62_62" id="FNanchor_62_62"></a><a href="#Footnote_62_62" class="fnanchor">[62]</a> thy fame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That nothing can disturb it but my name:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nay, I have hopes that standing so near thine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twill lose its dross, and by degrees refine.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Live! till the disabusèd world consent<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All truths of use, of strength or ornament,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are with such harmony by thee display'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As the whole world was first by number made,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And from the charming rigour thy Muse brings<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Learn, there's no pleasure but in serious things!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p style='text-align:right; margin-right:2em;'>Orinda.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_58_58" id="Footnote_58_58"></a><a href="#FNanchor_58_58"><span class="label">[58]</span></a> 1664-1667 have To <i>Mr. Henry Vaughan, Silurist, on his +Poems</i>.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_59_59" id="Footnote_59_59"></a><a href="#FNanchor_59_59"><span class="label">[59]</span></a> So 1664-1667. <i>Thalia Rediviva</i> has <i>the ignorant</i>.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_60_60" id="Footnote_60_60"></a><a href="#FNanchor_60_60"><span class="label">[60]</span></a> 1664 has <i>generally upbraids</i>; 1667, <i>generously +upbraids</i></p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_61_61" id="Footnote_61_61"></a><a href="#FNanchor_61_61"><span class="label">[61]</span></a> 1664-1667 have <i>Leon's hill</i>.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_62_62" id="Footnote_62_62"></a><a href="#FNanchor_62_62"><span class="label">[62]</span></a> 1664 has <i>thou who securest</i>.</p></div> +</div> + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[171]</a></span></p> + +<h3> +<a name="UPON_THE_INGENIOUS_POEMS_OF_HIS_LEARNED_FRIEND_MR_HENRY_VAUGHAN_THE" +id="UPON_THE_INGENIOUS_POEMS_OF_HIS_LEARNED_FRIEND_MR_HENRY_VAUGHAN_THE"></a> +UPON THE INGENIOUS POEMS OF HIS LEARNED FRIEND, MR. HENRY VAUGHAN, THE +SILURIST.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Fairly design'd! to charm our civil rage<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With verse, and plant bays in an iron age!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But hath steel'd Mars so ductible a soul,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That love and poesy may it control?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yes! brave Tyrtæus, as we read of old,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Grecian armies as he pleas'd could mould;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They march'd to his high numbers, and did fight<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With that instinct and rage, which he did write.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When he fell lower, they would straight retreat,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Grow soft and calm, and temper their bold heat.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such magic is in Virtue! See here a young<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tyrtæus too, whose sweet persuasive song<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Can lead our spirits any way, and move<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To all adventures, either war or love.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then veil the bright Etesia, that choice she,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lest Mars—Timander's friend—his rival be.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So fair a nymph, dress'd by a Muse so neat,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Might warm the North, and thaw the frozen Gete.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p style='text-align:right; margin-right:2em;'>Tho. Powell, D.D.</p> + + + +<hr class="major" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[172]</a></span></p> + +<h3> +<a name="TO_THE_INGENIOUS_AUTHOR_OF_THALIA_REDIVIVA" +id="TO_THE_INGENIOUS_AUTHOR_OF_THALIA_REDIVIVA"></a> +TO THE INGENIOUS AUTHOR OF THALIA REDIVIVA.</h3> + + +<h4><span class='smcap'>Ode</span> I.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Where reverend bards of old have sate<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sung the pleasant interludes of Fate,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thou takest the hereditary shade<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which Nature's homely art had made,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thence thou giv'st thy Muse her swing, and she<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Advances to the galaxy;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There with the sparkling Cowley she above<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Does hand in hand in graceful measures move.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">We grovelling mortals gaze below,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">And long in vain to know<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her wondrous paths, her wondrous flight:<br /></span> +<span class="i3">In vain, alas! we grope,<a name="FNanchor_63_63" id="FNanchor_63_63"></a><a href="#Footnote_63_63" class="fnanchor">[63]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i4">In vain we use our earthly telescope,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">We're blinded by an intermedial night.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Thine eagle-Muse can only face<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The fiery coursers in their race,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">While with unequal paces we do try<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To bear her train aloft, and keep her company.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h4>II.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">The loud harmonious Mantuan<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Once charm'd the world; and here's the Uscan swan<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[173]</a></span> +<span class="i2">In his declining years does chime,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And challenges the last remains of Time.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ages run on, and soon give o'er,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">They have their graves as well as we;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Time swallows all that's past and more,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Yet time is swallow'd in eternity:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">This is the only profits poets see.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There thy triumphant Muse shall ride in state<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And lead in chains devouring Fate;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Claudian's bright Phœnix she shall bring<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thee an immortal offering;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor shall my humble tributary Muse<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her homage and attendance too refuse;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">She thrusts herself among the crowd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And joining in th' applause she strives to clap aloud<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h4>III.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Tell me no more that Nature is severe,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thou great philosopher!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lo! she has laid her vast exchequer here.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Tell me no more that she has sent<br /></span> +<span class="i2">So much already, she is spent;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here is a vast America behind<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which none but the great Silurist could find.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nature her last edition was the best,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As big, as rich as all the rest:<br /></span> +<span class="i3">So will we here admit<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Another world of wit.<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[174]</a></span> +<span class="i0">No rude or savage fancy here shall stay<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The travelling reader in his way,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But every coast is clear: go where he will,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Virtue's the road Thalia leads him still.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Long may she live, and wreath thy sacred head<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For this her happy resurrection from the dead.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p style='text-align:right; margin-right:2em;'> +N. W., Jes. Coll., Oxon.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_63_63" id="Footnote_63_63"></a><a href="#FNanchor_63_63"><span class="label">[63]</span></a> The original has <i>flight In raine; alas! we grope</i>.</p></div> + +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[175]</a></span></p> + +<h3><a name="TO_MY_WORTHY_FRIEND_MR_HENRY_VAUGHAN_THE_SILURIST" +id="TO_MY_WORTHY_FRIEND_MR_HENRY_VAUGHAN_THE_SILURIST"></a> +TO MY WORTHY FRIEND, MR. HENRY VAUGHAN THE SILURIST.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">See what thou wert! by what Platonic round<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Art thou in thy first youth and glories found?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or from thy Muse does this retrieve accrue?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Does she which once inspir'd thee, now renew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bringing thee back those golden years which Time<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Smooth'd to thy lays, and polish'd with thy rhyme?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor is't to thee alone she does convey<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such happy change, but bountiful as day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On whatsoever reader she does shine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She makes him like thee, and for ever thine.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And first thy manual op'ning gives to see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Eclipse and suff'rings burnish majesty,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where thou so artfully the draught hast made<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That we best read the lustre in the shade,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And find our sov'reign greater in that shroud:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So lightning dazzles from its night and cloud,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So the First Light Himself has for His throne<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Blackness, and darkness his pavilion.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Who can refuse thee company, or stay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By thy next charming summons forc'd away,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If that be force which we can so resent,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That only in its joys 'tis violent:<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[176]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Upward thy Eagle bears us ere aware,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till above storms and all tempestuous air<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We radiant worlds with their bright people meet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Leaving this little all beneath our feet.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But now the pleasure is too great to tell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor have we other bus'ness than to dwell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As on the hallow'd Mount th' Apostles meant<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To build and fix their glorious banishment.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet we must know and find thy skilful vein<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall gently bear us to our homes again;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By which descent thy former flight's impli'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To be thy ecstacy and not thy pride.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And here how well does the wise Muse demean<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Herself, and fit her song to ev'ry scene!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Riot of courts, the bloody wreaths of war,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cheats of the mart, and clamours of the bar,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nay, life itself thou dost so well express,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its hollow joys, and real emptiness,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That Dorian minstrel never did excite,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or raise for dying so much appetite.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Nor does thy other softer magic move<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Us less thy fam'd Etesia to love;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where such a character thou giv'st, that shame<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor envy dare approach the vestal dame:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So at bright prime ideas none repine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They safely in th' eternal poet shine.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Gladly th' Assyrian phœnix now resumes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From thee this last reprisal of his plumes;<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[177]</a></span> +<span class="i0">He seems another more miraculous thing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Brighter of crest, and stronger of his wing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Proof against Fate in spicy urns to come,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Immortal past all risk of martyrdom.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Nor be concern'd, nor fancy thou art rude<br /></span> +<span class="i0">T' adventure from thy Cambrian solitude:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Best from those lofty cliffs thy Muse does spring<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upwards, and boldly spreads her cherub wing.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">So when the sage of Memphis would converse<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With boding skies, and th' azure universe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He climbs his starry pyramid, and thence<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Freely sucks clean prophetic influence,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all serene, and rapt and gay he pries<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through the ethereal volume's mysteries,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Loth to come down, or ever to know more<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Nile's luxurious, but dull foggy shore.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p style='text-align:right; margin-right:2em;'>I. W., A.M. Oxon.</p> + +<hr class="major" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[178]</a></span></p> + +<h2 style='font-size:200%;'> +<a name="CHOICE_POEMS_ON_SEVERAL_OCCASIONS" +id="CHOICE_POEMS_ON_SEVERAL_OCCASIONS"></a> + CHOICE POEMS ON SEVERAL OCCASIONS. +</h2> + + + +<hr class="major" /> + +<h3> +<a name="TO_HIS_LEARNED_FRIEND_AND_LOYAL_FELLOW-PRISONER_THOMAS_POWEL_OF" +id="TO_HIS_LEARNED_FRIEND_AND_LOYAL_FELLOW-PRISONER_THOMAS_POWEL_OF"></a> +TO HIS LEARNED FRIEND AND LOYAL FELLOW-PRISONER, THOMAS POWEL OF +CANT[REFF], DOCTOR OF DIVINITY.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">If sever'd friends by sympathy can join,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And absent kings be honour'd in their coin;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">May they do both, who are so curb'd? but we<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whom no such abstracts torture, that can see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And pay each other a full self-return,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">May laugh, though all such metaphysics burn.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">'Tis a kind soul in magnets, that atones<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such two hard things as iron are and stones,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in their dumb compliance we learn more<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of love, than ever books could speak before.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For though attraction hath got all the name,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As if that power but from one side came,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which both unites; yet, where there is no sense<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There is no passion, nor intelligence:<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[179]</a></span> +<span class="i0">And so by consequence we cannot state<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A commerce, unless both we animate.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For senseless things, though ne'er so called upon,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are deaf, and feel no invitation,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But such as at the last day shall be shed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By the great Lord of life into the dead.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis then no heresy to end the strife<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With such rare doctrine as gives iron life.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For were it otherwise—which cannot be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And do thou judge my bold philosophy—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then it would follow that if I were dead,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy love, as now in life, would in that bed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of earth and darkness warm me, and dispense<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Effectual informing influence.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since then 'tis clear, that friendship is nought else<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But a joint, kind propension, and excess<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In none, but such whose equal, easy hearts<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Comply and meet both in their whole and parts,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And when they cannot meet, do not forget<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To mingle souls, but secretly reflect<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And some third place their centre make, where they<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Silently mix, and make an unseen stay:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let me not say—though poets may be bold—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou art more hard than steel, than stones more cold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But as the marigold in feasts of dew<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And early sunbeams, though but thin and few,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unfolds itself, then from the Earth's cold breast<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Heaves gently, and salutes the hopeful East:<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[180]</a></span> +<span class="i0">So from thy quiet cell, the retir'd throne<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of thy fair thoughts, which silently bemoan<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our sad distractions, come! and richly dress'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With reverend mirth and manners, check the rest<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of loose, loath'd men! Why should I longer be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rack'd 'twixt two evils? I see and cannot see.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr class="major" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[181]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="THE_KING_DISGUISED" id="THE_KING_DISGUISED"></a> +THE KING DISGUISED.</h3> + +<p class='center'><i>Written about the same time that Mr. John Cleveland +wrote his.</i></p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A king and no king! Is he gone from us,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And stoln alive into his coffin thus?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This was to ravish death, and so prevent<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The rebels' treason and their punishment.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He would not have them damn'd, and therefore he<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Himself deposèd his own majesty.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wolves did pursue him, and to fly the ill<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He wanders—royal saint!—in sheepskin still.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Poor, obscure shelter, if that shelter be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Obscure, which harbours so much majesty.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hence, profane eyes! the mystery's so deep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like Esdras books, the vulgar must not see't.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thou flying roll, written with tears and woe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not for thy royal self, but for thy foe!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy grief is prophecy, and doth portend,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like sad Ezekiel's sighs, the rebel's end.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy robes forc'd off, like Samuel's when rent,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Do figure out another's punishment.<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[182]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Nor grieve thou hast put off thyself awhile,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To serve as prophet to this sinful isle;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">These are our days of Purim, which oppress<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Church, and force thee to the wilderness.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But all these clouds cannot thy light confine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sun in storms and after them, will shine.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy day of life cannot be yet complete,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis early, sure, thy shadow is so great.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But I am vex'd, that we at all can guess<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This change, and trust great Charles to such a dress.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When he was first obscur'd with this coarse thing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He grac'd plebeians, but profan'd the king:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like some fair church, which zeal to charcoals burn'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or his own court now to an alehouse turn'd.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But full as well may we blame night, and chide<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His wisdom, Who doth light with darkness hide,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or deny curtains to thy royal bed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As take this sacred cov'ring from thy head.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Secrets of State are points we must not know;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This vizard is thy privy-council now,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou royal riddle, and in everything<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The true white prince, our hieroglyphic king!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ride safely in His shade, Who gives thee light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And can with blindness thy pursuers smite.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O! may they wander all from thee as far<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As they from peace are, and thyself from war!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And wheresoe'er thou dost design to be<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[183]</a></span> +<span class="i0">With thy—now spotted—spotless majesty,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Be sure to look no sanctuary there,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor hope for safety in a temple, where<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Buyers and sellers trade: O! strengthen not<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With too much trust the treason of a Scot!<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr class="major" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[184]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="THE_EAGLE" id="THE_EAGLE"></a>THE EAGLE.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Tis madness sure; and I am in the fit,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To dare an eagle with my unfledg'd wit.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For what did ever Rome or Athens sing<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In all their lines, as lofty as his wing?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He that an eagle's powers would rehearse<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Should with his plumes first feather all his verse.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I know not, when into thee I would pry,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which to admire, thy wing first, or thine eye;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or whether Nature at thy birth design'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">More of her fire for thee, or of her wind.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When thou in the clear heights and upmost air<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dost face the sun and his dispersèd hair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ev'n from that distance thou the sea dost spy<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sporting in its deep, wide lap, the fry.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not the least minnow there but thou canst see:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whole seas are narrow spectacles to thee.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor is this element of water here<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Below of all thy miracles the sphere.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If poets ought may add unto thy store,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou hast in heav'n of wonders many more.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For when just Jove to earth his thunder bends,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And from that bright, eternal fortress sends<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His louder volleys, straight this bird doth fly<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To Ætna, where his magazine doth lie,<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[185]</a></span> +<span class="i0">And in his active talons brings him more<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of ammunition, and recruits his store.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor is't a low or easy lift. He soars<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Bove wind and fire; gets to the moon, and pores<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With scorn upon her duller face; for she<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gives him but shadows and obscurity.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here much displeas'd, that anything like night<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Should meet him in his proud and lofty flight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That such dull tinctures should advance so far,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And rival in the glories of a star,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Resolv'd he is a nobler course to try,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And measures out his voyage with his eye.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then with such fury he begins his flight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As if his wings contended with his sight.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Leaving the moon, whose humble light doth trade<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With spots, and deals most in the dark and shade,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the day's royal planet he doth pass<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With daring eyes, and makes the sun his glass.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here doth he plume and dress himself, the beams<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rushing upon him like so many streams;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While with direct looks he doth entertain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The thronging flames, and shoots them back again.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thus from star to star he doth repair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And wantons in that pure and peaceful air.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sometimes he frights the starry swan, and now<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Orion's fearful hare, and then the crow.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then with the orb itself he moves, to see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which is more swift, th' intelligence or he.<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[186]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Thus with his wings his body he hath brought<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where man can travel only in a thought.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I will not seek, rare bird, what spirit 'tis<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That mounts thee thus; I'll be content with this,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To think that Nature made thee to express<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our soul's bold heights in a material dress.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr class="major" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[187]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="TO_MR_M_L_UPON_HIS_REDUCTION_OF_THE_PSALMS_INTO_METHOD" id="TO_MR_M_L_UPON_HIS_REDUCTION_OF_THE_PSALMS_INTO_METHOD"></a> +TO MR. M. L. UPON HIS REDUCTION OF THE PSALMS INTO METHOD.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sir,<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">You have oblig'd the patriarch, and 'tis known<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He is your debtor now, though for his own.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What he wrote is a medley: we can see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Confusion trespass on his piety.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Misfortunes did not only strike at him,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They chargèd further, and oppress'd his pen;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For he wrote as his crosses came, and went<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By no safe rule, but by his punishment.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His quill mov'd by the rod; his wits and he<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Did know no method, but their misery.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">You brought his Psalms now into tune. Nay all<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His measures thus are more than musical;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your method and his airs are justly sweet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And—what's church music right—like anthems meet.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You did so much in this, that I believe<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He gave the matter, you the form did give.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And yet I wish you were not understood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For now 'tis a misfortune to be good!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Why then you'll say, all I would have, is this:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">None must be good, because the time's amiss.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For since wise Nature did ordain the night,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I would not have the sun to give us light.<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[188]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Whereas this doth not take the use away,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But urgeth the necessity of day.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Proceed to make your pious work as free,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stop not your seasonable charity.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Good works despis'd or censur'd by bad times<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Should be sent out to aggravate their crimes.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They should first share and then reject our store,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Abuse our good, to make their guilt the more.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis war strikes at our sins, but it must be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A persecution wounds our piety.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr class="major" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[189]</a></span></p> +<h3> +<a name="TO_THE_PIOUS_MEMORY_OF_CHARLES_WALBEOFFE_ESQUIRE_WHO_FINISHED_HIS" +id="TO_THE_PIOUS_MEMORY_OF_CHARLES_WALBEOFFE_ESQUIRE_WHO_FINISHED_HIS"></a> +TO THE PIOUS MEMORY OF C[HARLES] W[ALBEOFFE] ESQUIRE, WHO FINISHED HIS +COURSE HERE, AND MADE HIS ENTRANCE INTO IMMORTALITY UPON THE 13 OF +SEPTEMBER, IN THE YEAR OF REDEMPTION, 1653.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Now that the public sorrow doth subside,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And those slight tears which custom springs are dried;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While all the rich and outside mourners pass<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Home from thy dust, to empty their own glass;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I—who the throng affect not, nor their state—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Steal to thy grave undress'd, to meditate<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On our sad loss, accompanied by none,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An obscure mourner that would weep alone.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">So, when the world's great luminary sets,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some scarce known star into the zenith gets,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Twinkles and curls, a weak but willing spark,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As glow-worms here do glitter in the dark.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet, since the dimmest flame that kindles there<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An humble love unto the light doth bear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And true devotion from an hermit's cell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will Heav'n's kind King as soon reach and as well,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As that which from rich shrines and altars flies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Led by ascending incense to the skies:<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[190]</a></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis no malicious rudeness, if the might<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of love makes dark things wait upon the bright,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And from my sad retirements calls me forth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The just recorder of thy death and worth.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Long didst thou live—if length be measured by<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The tedious reign of our calamity—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And counter to all storms and changes still<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Kept'st the same temper, and the selfsame will.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though trials came as duly as the day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in such mists, that none could see his way,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet thee I found still virtuous, and saw<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sun give clouds, and Charles give both the law.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When private interest did all hearts bend,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And wild dissents the public peace did rend,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou, neither won, nor worn, wert still thyself,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not aw'd by force, nor basely brib'd with pelf.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">What the insuperable stream of times<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Did dash thee with, those suff'rings were, not crimes.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So the bright sun eclipses bears; and we,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Because then passive, blame him not. Should he<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For enforc'd shades, and the moon's ruder veil<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Much nearer us than him, be judg'd to fail?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who traduce thee, so err. As poisons by<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Correction are made antidotes, so thy<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Just soul did turn ev'n hurtful things to good,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Us'd bad laws so they drew not tears, nor blood.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Heav'n was thy aim, and thy great, rare design<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was not to lord it here, but there to shine.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Earth nothing had, could tempt thee. All that e'er<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[191]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Thou pray'd'st for here was peace, and glory there.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For though thy course in Time's long progress fell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On a sad age, when war and open'd hell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Licens'd all arts and sects, and made it free<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To thrive by fraud, and blood, and blasphemy:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet thou thy just inheritance didst by<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No sacrilege, nor pillage multiply.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No rapine swell'd thy state, no bribes, nor fees,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our new oppressors' best annuities.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such clean pure hands hadst thou! and for thy heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Man's secret region, and his noblest part;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since I was privy to't, and had the key<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of that fair room, where thy bright spirit lay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I must affirm it did as much surpass<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Most I have known, as the clear sky doth glass.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Constant and kind, and plain, and meek, and mild<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It was, and with no new conceits defil'd.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Busy, but sacred thoughts—like bees—did still<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Within it stir, and strive unto that hill<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where redeem'd spirits, evermore alive,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">After their work is done, ascend and hive.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No outward tumults reach'd this inward place:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twas holy ground, where peace, and love, and grace<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Kept house, where the immortal restless life,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In a most dutiful and pious strife,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like a fix'd watch, mov'd all in order still;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The will serv'd God, and ev'ry sense the will!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In this safe state Death met thee, Death, which is<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But a kind usher of the good to bliss,<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[192]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Therefore to weep because thy course is run,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or droop like flow'rs, which lately lost the sun,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I cannot yield, since Faith will not permit<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A tenure got by conquest to the pit.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For the great Victor fought for us, and He<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Counts ev'ry dust that is laid up of thee.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Besides, Death now grows decrepit, and hath<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Spent the most part both of its time and wrath.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That thick, black night, which mankind fear'd, is torn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By troops of stars, and the bright day's forlorn.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The next glad news—most glad unto the just!—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will be the trumpet's summons from the dust.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then I'll not grieve; nay, more, I'll not allow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My soul should think thee absent from me now.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some bid their dead "Good night!" but I will say<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Good morrow to dear Charles!" for it is day.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr class="major" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[193]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="IN_ZODIACUM_MARCELLI_PALINGENII" id="IN_ZODIACUM_MARCELLI_PALINGENII"></a> +IN ZODIACUM MARCELLI PALINGENII.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">It is perform'd! and thy great name doth run<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through ev'ry sign, an everlasting sun,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not planet-like, but fixed; and we can see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy genius stand still in his apogee.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For how canst thou an aux eternal miss,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where ev'ry house thy exaltation is?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here's no ecliptic threatens thee with night,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Although the wiser few take in thy light.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They are not at that glorious pitch, to be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In a conjunction with divinity.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Could we partake some oblique ray of thine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Salute thee in a sextile, or a trine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It were enough; but thou art flown so high,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The telescope is turn'd a common eye.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had the grave Chaldee liv'd thy book to see,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He had known no astrology but thee;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nay, more—for I believe't—thou shouldst have been<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tutor to all his planets, and to him.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus, whosoever reads thee, his charm'd sense<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Proves captive to thy zodiac's influence.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Were it not foul to err so, I should look<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here for the Rabbins' universal book:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And say, their fancies did but dream of thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When first they doted on that mystery.<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[194]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Each line's a _via lactea_, where we may<br /></span> +<span class="i0">See thy fair steps, and tread that happy way<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy genius led thee in. Still I will be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lodg'd in some sign, some face, and some degree<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of thy bright zodiac; thus I'll teach my sense<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To move by that, and thee th' intelligence.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr class="major" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[195]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="TO_LYSIMACHUS_THE_AUTHOR_BEING_WITH_HIM_IN_LONDON" id="TO_LYSIMACHUS_THE_AUTHOR_BEING_WITH_HIM_IN_LONDON"></a> +TO LYSIMACHUS, THE AUTHOR BEING WITH HIM IN LONDON.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Saw not, Lysimachus, last day, when we<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Took the pure air in its simplicity,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And our own too, how the trimm'd gallants went<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cringing, and pass'd each step some compliment?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What strange, fantastic diagrams they drew<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With legs and arms; the like we never knew<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In Euclid, Archimede, nor all of those<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose learnèd lines are neither verse nor prose?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What store of lace was there? how did the gold<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Run in rich traces, but withal made bold<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To measure the proud things, and so deride<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The fops with that, which was part of their pride?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How did they point at us, and boldly call,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As if we had been vassals to them all,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their poor men-mules, sent thither by hard fate<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To yoke ourselves for their sedans, and state?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of all ambitions, this was not the least,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose drift translated man into a beast.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What blind discourse the heroes did afford!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This lady was their friend, and such a lord.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How much of blood was in it! one could tell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He came from Bevis and his Arundel;<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[196]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Morglay was yet with him, and he could do<br /></span> +<span class="i0">More feats with it than his old grandsire too.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wonders my friend at this? what is't to thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who canst produce a nobler pedigree,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in mere truth affirm thy soul of kin<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To some bright star, or to a cherubin?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When these in their profuse moods spend the night,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With the same sins they drive away the light.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy learnèd thrift puts her to use, while she<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Reveals her fiery volume unto thee;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And looking on the separated skies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And their clear lamps, with careful thoughts and eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou break'st through Nature's upmost rooms and bars<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To heav'n, and there conversest with the stars.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Well fare such harmless, happy nights, that be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Obscur'd with nothing but their privacy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And missing but the false world's glories do<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Miss all those vices which attend them too!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fret not to hear their ill-got, ill-giv'n praise;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy darkest nights outshine their brightest days.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr class="major" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[197]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="ON_SIR_THOMAS_BODLEYS_LIBRARY_THE_AUTHOR_BEING_THEN_IN_OXFORD" id="ON_SIR_THOMAS_BODLEYS_LIBRARY_THE_AUTHOR_BEING_THEN_IN_OXFORD"></a> +ON SIR THOMAS BODLEY'S LIBRARY, THE AUTHOR BEING THEN IN OXFORD.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Boast not, proud Golgotha, that thou canst show<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The ruins of mankind, and let us know<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How frail a thing is flesh! though we see there<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But empty skulls, the Rabbins still live here.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They are not dead, but full of blood again;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I mean the sense, and ev'ry line a vein.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Triumph not o'er their dust; whoever looks<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In here, shall find their brains all in their books.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor is't old Palestine alone survives;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Athens lives here, more than in Plutarch's Lives.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The stones, which sometimes danc'd unto the strain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of Orpheus, here do lodge his Muse again.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And you, the Roman spirits, learning has<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Made your lives longer than your empire was.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cæsar had perish'd from the world of men<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had not his sword been rescu'd by his pen.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rare Seneca, how lasting is thy breath!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though Nero did, thou couldst not bleed to death.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How dull the expert tyrant was, to look<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For that in thee which livèd in thy book!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Afflictions turn our blood to ink, and we<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[198]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Commence, when writing, our eternity.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lucilius here I can behold, and see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His counsels and his life proceed from thee.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But what care I to whom thy Letters be?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I change the name, and thou dost write to me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in this age, as sad almost as thine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy stately Consolations are mine.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Poor earth! what though thy viler dust enrolls<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The frail enclosures of these mighty souls?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their graves are all upon record; not one<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But is as bright and open as the sun.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And though some part of them obscurely fell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And perish'd in an unknown, private cell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet in their books they found a glorious way<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To live unto the Resurrection-day!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Most noble Bodley! we are bound to thee<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For no small part of our eternity.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy treasure was not spent on horse and hound,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor that new mode which doth old states confound.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy legacies another way did go:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor were they left to those would spend them so.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy safe, discreet expense on us did flow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Walsam is in the midst of Oxford now.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Th' hast made us all thine heirs; whatever we<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hereafter write, 'tis thy posterity.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This is thy monument! here thou shalt stand<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till the times fail in their last grain of sand.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And wheresoe'er thy silent relics keep,<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[199]</a></span> +<span class="i0">This tomb will never let thine honour sleep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still we shall think upon thee; all our fame<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Meets here to speak one letter of thy name.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou canst not die! here thou art more than safe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where every book is thy large epitaph.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr class="major" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[200]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="THE_IMPORTUNATE_FORTUNE_WRITTEN_TO_DR_POWEL_OF_CANTREFF" id="THE_IMPORTUNATE_FORTUNE_WRITTEN_TO_DR_POWEL_OF_CANTREFF"></a> +THE IMPORTUNATE FORTUNE, WRITTEN TO DR. POWEL, OF CANTRE[FF].</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For shame desist, why shouldst thou seek my fall?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It cannot make thee more monarchical.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Leave off; thy empire is already built;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To ruin me were to enlarge thy guilt,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not thy prerogative. I am not he<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Must be the measure to thy victory.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Fates hatch more for thee; 'twere a disgrace<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If in thy annals I should make a clause.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The future ages will disclose such men<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall be the glory, and the end of them.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor do I flatter. So long as there be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Descents in Nature, or posterity,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There must be fortunes; whether they be good,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As swimming in thy tide and plenteous flood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or stuck fast in the shallow ebb, when we<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Miss to deserve thy gorgeous charity.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus, Fortune, the great world thy period is;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nature and you are parallels in this.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But thou wilt urge me still. Away, be gone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I am resolv'd, I will not be undone.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I scorn thy trash, and thee: nay, more, I do<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Despise myself, because thy subject too.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Name me heir to thy malice, and I'll be;<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[201]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Thy hate's the best inheritance for me.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I care not for your wondrous hat and purse,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Make me a Fortunatus with thy curse.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How careful of myself then should I be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Were I neglected by the world and thee?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Why dost thou tempt me with thy dirty ore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And with thy riches make my soul so poor?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My fancy's pris'ner to thy gold and thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy favours rob me of my liberty.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'll to my speculations. Is't best<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To be confin'd to some dark, narrow chest<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And idolize thy stamps, when I may be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lord of all Nature, and not slave to thee?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The world's my palace. I'll contemplate there,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And make my progress into ev'ry sphere.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The chambers of the air are mine; those three<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Well-furnish'd stories my possession be.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I hold them all <i>in capite</i>, and stand<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Propp'd by my fancy there. I scorn your land,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It lies so far below me. Here I see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How all the sacred stars do circle me.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou to the great giv'st rich food, and I do<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Want no content; I feed on manna too.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They have their tapers; I gaze without fear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On flying lamps and flaming comets here.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their wanton flesh in silks and purple shrouds,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And fancy wraps me in a robe of clouds.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There some delicious beauty they may woo,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I have Nature for my mistress too.<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[202]</a></span> +<span class="i2">But these are mean; the archetype I can see,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And humbly touch the hem of majesty.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The power of my soul is such, I can<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Expire, and so analyze all that's man.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">First my dull clay I give unto the Earth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our common mother, which gives all their birth.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My growing faculties I send as soon,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whence first I took them, to the humid moon.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All subtleties and every cunning art<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To witty Mercury I do impart.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Those fond affections which made me a slave<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To handsome faces, Venus, thou shalt have.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And saucy pride—if there was aught in me—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sol, I return it to thy royalty.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My daring rashness and presumptions be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To Mars himself an equal legacy.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My ill-plac'd avarice—sure 'tis but small—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Jove, to thy flames I do bequeath it all.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And my false magic, which I did believe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And mystic lies, to Saturn I do give.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My dark imaginations rest you there,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This is your grave and superstitious sphere.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Get up, my disentangled soul, thy fire<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is now refin'd, and nothing left to tire<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or clog thy wings. Now my auspicious flight<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hath brought me to the empyrean light.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I am a sep'rate essence, and can see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The emanations of the Deity,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And how they pass the seraphims, and run<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[203]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Through ev'ry throne and domination.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So rushing through the guard the sacred streams<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Flow to the neighbour stars, and in their beams<br /></span> +<span class="i0">—A glorious cataract!—descend to earth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And give impressions unto ev'ry birth.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With angels now and spirits I do dwell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And here it is my nature to do well.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus, though my body you confinèd see,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My boundless thoughts have their ubiquity.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And shall I then forsake the stars and signs,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To dote upon thy dark and cursèd mines?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unhappy, sad exchange! what, must I buy<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Guiana with the loss of all the sky?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Intelligences shall I leave, and be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Familiar only with mortality?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Must I know nought, but thy exchequer? shall<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My purse and fancy be symmetrical?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are there no objects left but one? must we<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In gaining that, lose our variety?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Fortune, this is the reason I refuse<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy wealth; it puts my books all out of use.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis poverty that makes me wise; my mind<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is big with speculation, when I find<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My purse as Randolph's was, and I confess<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There is no blessing to an emptiness!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The species of all things to me resort<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And dwell then in my breast, as in their port.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then leave to court me with thy hated store;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou giv'st me that, to rob my soul of more.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr class="major" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[204]</a></span></p> +<h3> +<a name="TO_I_MORGAN_OF_WHITEHALL_ESQ_UPON_HIS_SUDDEN_JOURNEY_AND_SUCCEEDING" +id="TO_I_MORGAN_OF_WHITEHALL_ESQ_UPON_HIS_SUDDEN_JOURNEY_AND_SUCCEEDING"></a> +TO I. MORGAN OF WHITEHALL, ESQ., UPON HIS SUDDEN JOURNEY AND SUCCEEDING +MARRIAGE.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">So from our cold, rude world, which all things tires,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To his warm Indies the bright sun retires.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where, in those provinces of gold and spice,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Perfumes his progress, pleasures fill his eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which, so refresh'd, in their return convey<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fire into rubies, into crystals, day;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And prove, that light in kinder climates can<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Work more on senseless stones, than here on man.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But you, like one ordain'd to shine, take in<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Both light and heat, can love and wisdom spin<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Into one thread, and with that firmly tie<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The same bright blessings on posterity:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which so entail'd, like jewels of the crown,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall, with your name, descend still to your own.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When I am dead, and malice or neglect<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The worst they can upon my dust reflect;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">—For poets yet have left no names, but such<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As men have envied or despis'd too much—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You above both—and what state more excels,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since a just fame like health, nor wants, nor swells?—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To after ages shall remain entire,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And shine still spotless, like your planet's fire.<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[205]</a></span> +<span class="i0">No single lustre neither; the access<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of your fair love will yours adorn and bless;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till, from that bright conjunction, men may view<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A constellation circling her and you.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">So two sweet rose-buds from their virgin-beds<br /></span> +<span class="i0">First peep and blush, then kiss and couple heads,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till yearly blessings so increase their store,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Those two can number two-and-twenty more,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the fair bank—by Heav'n's free bounty crown'd—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With choice of sweets and beauties doth abound,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till Time, which families, like flowers, far spreads,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gives them for garlands to the best of heads.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then late posterity—if chance, or some<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Weak echo, almost quite expir'd and dumb,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall tell them who the poet was, and how<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He liv'd and lov'd thee too, which thou dost know—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Straight to my grave will flowers and spices bring,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With lights and hymns, and for an offering<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There vow this truth, that love—which in old times<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was censur'd blind, and will contract worse crimes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If hearts mend not—did for thy sake in me<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Find both his eyes, and all foretell and see.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr class="major" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[206]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="FIDA_OR_THE_COUNTRY_BEAUTY_TO_LYSIMACHUS" id="FIDA_OR_THE_COUNTRY_BEAUTY_TO_LYSIMACHUS"></a> +FIDA; OR, THE COUNTRY BEAUTY. TO LYSIMACHUS.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now I have seen her; and by Cupid<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The young Medusa made me stupid!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A face, that hath no lovers slain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wants forces, and is near disdain.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For every fop will freely peep<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At majesty that is asleep.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But she—fair tyrant!—hates to be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gaz'd on with such impunity.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose prudent rigour bravely bears<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And scorns the trick of whining tears,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or sighs, those false alarms of grief,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which kill not, but afford relief.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor is it thy hard fate to be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alone in this calamity,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since I who came but to be gone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Am plagu'd for merely looking on.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Mark from her forehead to her foot<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What charming sweets are there to do't.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A head adorn'd with all those glories<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That wit hath shadow'd in quaint stories,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or pencil with rich colours drew<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In imitation of the true.<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[207]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Her hair, laid out in curious sets<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And twists, doth show like silken nets,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where—since he play'd at hit or miss—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The god of Love her pris'ner is,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And fluttering with his skittish wings<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Puts all her locks in curls and rings.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Like twinkling stars her eyes invite<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All gazers to so sweet a light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But then two archèd clouds of brown<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stand o'er, and guard them with a frown.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Beneath these rays of her bright eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beauty's rich bed of blushes lies.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Blushes which lightning-like come on,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet stay not to be gaz'd upon;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But leave the lilies of her skin<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As fair as ever, and run in,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like swift salutes—which dull paint scorn—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twixt a white noon and crimson morn.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">What coral can her lips resemble?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For hers are warm, swell, melt, and tremble:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And if you dare contend for red,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This is alive, the other dead.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her equal teeth—above, below—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All of a size and smoothness grow.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where under close restraint and awe<br /></span> +<span class="i0">—Which is the maiden tyrant law—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like a cag'd, sullen linnet, dwells<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her tongue, the key to potent spells.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her skin, like heav'n when calm and bright,<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[208]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Shows a rich azure under white,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With touch more soft than heart supposes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And breath as sweet as new-blown roses.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Betwixt this headland and the main,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which is a rich and flow'ry plain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lies her fair neck, so fine and slender,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That gently how you please 'twill bend her.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">This leads you to her heart, which ta'en,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pants under sheets of whitest lawn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And at the first seems much distress'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But, nobly treated, lies at rest.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Here, like two balls of new fall'n snow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her breasts, Love's native pillows, grow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And out of each a rose-bud peeps,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which infant Beauty sucking sleeps.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Say now, my Stoic, that mak'st sour faces<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At all the beauties and the graces,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That criest, unclean! though known thyself<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To ev'ry coarse and dirty shelf:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Couldst thou but see a piece like this,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A piece so full of sweets and bliss,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In shape so rare, in soul so rich,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wouldst thou not swear she is a witch?<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr class="major" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[209]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="FIDA_FORSAKEN" id="FIDA_FORSAKEN"></a>FIDA FORSAKEN.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Fool that I was! to believe blood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While swoll'n with greatness, then most good;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the false thing, forgetful man,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To trust more than our true god, Pan.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such swellings to a dropsy tend,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And meanest things such great ones bend.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then live deceived! and, Fida, by<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That life destroy fidelity.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For living wrongs will make some wise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While Death chokes loudest injuries:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And screens the faulty, making blinds<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To hide the most unworthy minds.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And yet do what thou can'st to hide,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A bad tree's fruit will be describ'd.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For that foul guilt which first took place<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In his dark heart, now damns his face;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And makes those eyes, where life should dwell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Look like the pits of Death and Hell.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Blood, whose rich purple shows and seals<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their faith in Moors, in him reveals<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A blackness at the heart, and is<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Turn'd ink to write his faithlessness.<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[210]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Only his lips with blood look red,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As if asham'd of what they fed.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then, since he wears in a dark skin<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The shadows of his hell within,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Expose him no more to the light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But thine own epitaph thus write<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Here burst, and dead and unregarded<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lies Fida's heart! O well rewarded!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr class="major" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[211]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="TO_THE_EDITOR_OF_THE_MATCHLESS_ORINDA" id="TO_THE_EDITOR_OF_THE_MATCHLESS_ORINDA"></a> +TO THE EDITOR OF THE MATCHLESS ORINDA.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Long since great wits have left the stage<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unto the drollers of the age,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And noble numbers with good sense<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are, like good works, grown an offence.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While much of verse—worse than old story—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Speaks but Jack-Pudding or John-Dory.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such trash-admirers made us poor,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And pies turn'd poets out of door;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For the nice spirit of rich verse<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which scorns absurd and low commerce,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Although a flame from heav'n, if shed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On rooks or daws warms no such head.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or else the poet, like bad priest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is seldom good, but when oppress'd;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And wit as well as piety<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Doth thrive best in adversity<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For since the thunder left our air<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their laurels look not half so fair.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">However 'tis, 'twere worse than rude,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not to profess our gratitude<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And debts to thee, who at so low<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An ebb dost make us thus to flow;<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[212]</a></span> +<span class="i0">And when we did a famine fear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hast bless'd us with a fruitful year.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So while the world his absence mourns,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The glorious sun at last returns,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And with his kind and vital looks<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Warms the cold earth and frozen brooks,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Puts drowsy Nature into play,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And rids impediments away,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till flow'rs and fruits and spices through<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her pregnant lap get up and grow.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But if among those sweet things, we<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A miracle like that could see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which Nature brought but once to pass,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A Muse, such as Orinda was,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Phœbus himself won by these charms<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Would give her up into thy arms;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And recondemn'd to kiss his tree,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yield the young goddess unto thee.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr class="major" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[213]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="UPON_SUDDEN_NEWS_OF_THE_MUCH_LAMENTED_DEATH_OF_JUDGE_TREVERS" id="UPON_SUDDEN_NEWS_OF_THE_MUCH_LAMENTED_DEATH_OF_JUDGE_TREVERS"></a> +UPON SUDDEN NEWS OF THE MUCH LAMENTED DEATH OF JUDGE TREVERS.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Learning and Law, your day is done,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And your work too; you may be gone<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Trever, that lov'd you, hence is fled:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Right, which long lay sick, is dead.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Trever! whose rare and envied part<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was both a wise and winning heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose sweet civilities could move<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tartars and Goths to noblest love.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Bold vice and blindness now dare act,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And—like the grey groat—pass, though crack'd;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While those sage lips lie dumb and cold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose words are well-weigh'd and tried gold.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O, how much to discreet desires<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Differs pure light from foolish fires!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But nasty dregs outlast the wine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And after sunset glow-worms shine.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr class="major" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[214]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="TO_ETESIA_FOR_TIMANDER_THE_FIRST_SIGHT" id="TO_ETESIA_FOR_TIMANDER_THE_FIRST_SIGHT"></a> +TO ETESIA (FOR TIMANDER); THE FIRST SIGHT.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What smiling star in that fair night<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which gave you birth gave me this sight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And with a kind aspect tho' keen<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Made me the subject, you the queen?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That sparkling planet is got now<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Into your eyes, and shines below,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where nearer force and more acute<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It doth dispense, without dispute;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For I who yesterday did know<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love's fire no more than doth cool snow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With one bright look am since undone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet must adore and seek my sun.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Before I walk'd free as the wind<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And if but stay'd—like it—unkind;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I could like daring eagles gaze<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And not be blinded by a face;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For what I saw till I saw thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was only not deformity.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such shapes appear—compar'd with thine—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In arras, or a tavern-sign,<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[215]</a></span> +<span class="i0">And do but mind me to explore<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A fairer piece, that is in store.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So some hang ivy to their wine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To signify there is a vine.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Those princely flow'rs—by no storms vex'd—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which smile one day, and droop the next,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The gallant tulip and the rose,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Emblems which some use to disclose<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bodied ideas—their weak grace<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is mere imposture to thy face.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For Nature in all things, but thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Did practise only sophistry;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or else she made them to express<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How she could vary in her dress:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But thou wert form'd, that we might see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Perfection, not variety.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Have you observ'd how the day-star<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sparkles and smiles and shines from far;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then to the gazer doth convey<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A silent but a piercing ray?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So wounds my love, but that her eyes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are in effects the better skies.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A brisk bright agent from them streams<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Arm'd with no arrows, but their beams,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And with such stillness smites our hearts,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No noise betrays him, nor his darts.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He, working on my easy soul,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Did soon persuade, and then control;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And now he flies—and I conspire—<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[216]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Through all my blood with wings of fire,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And when I would—which will be never—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With cold despair allay the fever,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The spiteful thing Etesia names,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And that new-fuels all my flames.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr class="major" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[217]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="THE_CHARACTER_TO_ETESIA" id="THE_CHARACTER_TO_ETESIA"></a> +THE CHARACTER, TO ETESIA.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Go catch the phœnix, and then bring<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A quill drawn for me from his wing.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Give me a maiden beauty's blood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A pure, rich crimson, without mud,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In whose sweet blushes that may live,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which a dull verse can never give.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now for an untouch'd, spotless white,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For blackest things on paper write,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Etesia, at thine own expense<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Give me the robes of innocence.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Could we but see a spring to run<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pure milk, as sometimes springs have done,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in the snow-white streams it sheds,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Carnations wash their bloody heads,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While ev'ry eddy that came down<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Did—as thou dost—both smile and frown.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such objects, and so fresh would be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But dull resemblances of thee.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thou art the dark world's morning-star,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Seen only, and seen but from far;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where, like astronomers, we gaze<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upon the glories of thy face,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But no acquaintance more can have,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though all our lives we watch and crave.<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[218]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Thou art a world thyself alone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yea, three great worlds refin'd to one;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which shows all those, and in thine eyes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The shining East and Paradise.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thy soul—a spark of the first fire—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is like the sun, the world's desire;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And with a nobler influence<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Works upon all, that claim to sense;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But in summers hath no fever,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in frosts is cheerful ever.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As flow'rs besides their curious dress<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rich odours have, and sweetnesses,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which tacitly infuse desire,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And ev'n oblige us to admire:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such, and so full of innocence<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are all the charms, thou dost dispense;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And like fair Nature without arts<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At once they seize, and please our hearts.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O, thou art such, that I could be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A lover to idolatry!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I could, and should from heav'n stray,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But that thy life shows mine the way,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And leave a while the Deity<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To serve His image here in thee.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr class="major" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[219]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="TO_ETESIA_LOOKING_FROM_HER_CASEMENT_AT_THE_FULL_MOON" id="TO_ETESIA_LOOKING_FROM_HER_CASEMENT_AT_THE_FULL_MOON"></a> +TO ETESIA LOOKING FROM HER CASEMENT AT THE FULL MOON.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">See you that beauteous queen, which no age tames?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her train is azure, set with golden flames:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My brighter fair, fix on the East your eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And view that bed of clouds, whence she doth rise.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Above all others in that one short hour<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which most concern'd me,<a name="FNanchor_64_64" id="FNanchor_64_64"></a><a href="#Footnote_64_64" class="fnanchor">[64]</a> she had greatest pow'r.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This made my fortunes humorous as wind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But fix'd affections to my constant mind.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She fed me with the tears of stars, and thence<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I suck'd in sorrows with their influence.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To some in smiles, and store of light she broke,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To me in sad eclipses still she spoke.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She bent me with the motion of her sphere,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And made me feel what first I did but fear.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But when I came to age, and had o'ergrown<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her rules, and saw my freedom was my own,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I did reply unto the laws of Fate,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And made my reason my great advocate:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I labour'd to inherit my just right;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But then—O, hear Etesia!—lest I might<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Redeem myself, my unkind starry mother<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Took my poor heart, and gave it to another.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_64_64" id="Footnote_64_64"></a><a href="#FNanchor_64_64"><span class="label">[64]</span></a> The original has <i>concerned in</i>.</p></div> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[220]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="TO_ETESIA_PARTED_FROM_HIM_AND_LOOKING_BACK" id="TO_ETESIA_PARTED_FROM_HIM_AND_LOOKING_BACK"></a> +TO ETESIA PARTED FROM HIM, AND LOOKING BACK.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O, subtle Love! thy peace is war,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It wounds and kills without a scar,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It works unknown to any sense,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like the decrees of Providence,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And with strange silence shoots me through,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The fire of Love doth fell like snow.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Hath she no quiver, but my heart?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Must all her arrows hit that part?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beauties like heav'n their gifts should deal<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not to destroy us, but to heal.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Strange art of Love! that can make sound,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And yet exasperates the wound:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That look she lent to ease my heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hath pierc'd it, and improv'd the smart.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr class="major" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[221]</a></span></p> + +<h3><a name="IN_ETESIAM_LACHRYMANTEM" id="IN_ETESIAM_LACHRYMANTEM"></a> +IN ETESIAM LACHRYMANTEM.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O Dulcis Iuctus, risuque potentior omni!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Quem decorant lachrimis sidera tanta suis.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Quam tacitæ spirant auræ! vultusque nitentes<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Contristant veneres, collachrimantque suæ!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ornat gutta genas, oculisque simillima gemma:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Et tepido vivas irrigat imbre rosas.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dicite Chaldæi! quæ me fortuna fatigat,<br /></span> +<span class="i2"> +<ins title='Missing letter'>?</ins>um formosa dies et sine nube perit<a name="FNanchor_65_65" id="FNanchor_65_65"></a><a href="#Footnote_65_65" class="fnanchor">[65]</a>?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_65_65" id="Footnote_65_65"></a><a href="#FNanchor_65_65"><span class="label">[65]</span></a> The original has <i>peruit</i>.</p></div> + +</div> + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[222]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="TO_ETESIA_GOING_BEYOND_SEA" id="TO_ETESIA_GOING_BEYOND_SEA"></a> +TO ETESIA GOING BEYOND SEA.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Go, if you must! but stay—and know<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And mind before you go, my vow.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To ev'ry thing, but heav'n and you,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With all my heart I bid adieu!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now to those happy shades I'll go<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where first I saw my beauteous foe!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'll seek each silent path where we<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Did walk; and where you sat with me<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'll sit again, and never rest<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till I can find some flow'r you press'd.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That near my dying heart I'll keep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And when it wants dew I will weep:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sadly I will repeat past joys<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And words, which you did sometimes voice<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'll listen to the woods, and hear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The echo answer for you there.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But famish'd with long absence I,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like infants left, at last shall cry,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And tears—as they do milk—will sup<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Until you come, and take me up.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr class="major" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[223]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="ETESIA_ABSENT" id="ETESIA_ABSENT"></a>ETESIA ABSENT.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Love, the world's life! what a sad death<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy absence is! to lose our breath<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At once and die, is but to live<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Enlarg'd, without the scant reprieve<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of pulse and air; whose dull returns<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And narrow circles the soul mourns.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But to be dead alive, and still<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To wish, but never have our will,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To be possess'd, and yet to miss,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To wed a true but absent bliss,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are ling'ring tortures, and their smart<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dissects and racks and grinds the heart!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As soul and body in that state<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which unto us, seems separate,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cannot be said to live, until<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Reunion; which days fulfil<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And slow-pac'd seasons; so in vain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through hours and minutes—Time's long train—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I look for thee, and from thy sight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As from my soul, for life and light.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For till thine eyes shine so on me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mine are fast-clos'd and will not see.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr class="major" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[224]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="TRANSLATIONS" id="TRANSLATIONS"></a> + + TRANSLATIONS. +</h2> + +<h3> SOME ODES OF THE EXCELLENT AND KNOWING + [ANICIUS MANLIUS] SEVERINUS [BOETHIUS], ENGLISHED. +</h3> + +<h4>[DE CONSOLATIONE] LIB. III. METRUM XII.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Happy is he, that with fix'd eyes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The fountain of all goodness spies!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Happy is he that can break through<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Those bonds which tie him here below!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The Thracian poet long ago,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Kind Orpheus, full of tears and woe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Did for his lov'd Eurydice<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In such sad numbers mourn, that he<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Made the trees run in to his moan,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And streams stand still to hear him groan.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The does came fearless in one throng<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With lions to his mournful song,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And charmed by the harmonious sound,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The hare stay'd by the quiet hound.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But when Love height'n'd by despair<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And deep reflections on his fair<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had swell'd his heart, and made it rise<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And run in tears out at his eyes,<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[225]</a></span> +<span class="i0">And those sweet airs, which did appease<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wild beasts, could give their lord no ease;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then, vex'd that so much grief and love<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mov'd not at all the gods above,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With desperate thoughts and bold intent,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Towards the shades below he went;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For thither his fair love was fled,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And he must have her from the dead.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There in such lines, as did well suit<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With sad airs and a lover's lute,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in the richest language dress'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That could be thought on or express'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Did he complain; whatever grief<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or art or love—which is the chief,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all ennobles—could lay out,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In well-tun'd woes he dealt about.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And humbly bowing to the prince<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of ghosts begg'd some intelligence<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of his Eurydice, and where<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His beauteous saint resided there.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then to his lute's instructed groans<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He sigh'd out new melodious moans;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in a melting, charming strain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Begg'd his dear love to life again.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The music flowing through the shade<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And darkness did with ease invade<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The silent and attentive ghosts;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Cerberus, which guards those coasts<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With his loud barkings, overcome<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[226]</a></span> +<span class="i0">By the sweet notes, was now struck dumb.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Furies, us'd to rave and howl<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And prosecute each guilty soul,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had lost their rage, and in a deep<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Transport, did most profusely weep.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ixion's wheel stopp'd, and the curs'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tantalus, almost kill'd with thirst,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though the streams now did make no haste,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But wait'd for him, none would taste.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That vulture, which fed still upon<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tityus his liver, now was gone<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To feed on air, and would not stay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though almost famish'd, with her prey.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Won with these wonders, their fierce prince<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At last cried out, "We yield! and since<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy merits claim no less, take hence<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy consort for thy recompense:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But Orpheus, to this law we bind<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our grant: you must not look behind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor of your fair love have one sight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till out of our dominions quite."<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Alas! what laws can lovers awe?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love is itself the greatest law!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or who can such hard bondage brook<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To be in love, and not to look?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Poor Orpheus almost in the light<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lost his dear love for one short sight;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And by those eyes, which Love did guide,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What he most lov'd unkindly died!<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[227]</a></span> +<span class="i2">This tale of Orpheus and his love<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was meant for you, who ever move<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upwards, and tend into that light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which is not seen by mortal sight.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For if, while you strive to ascend,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You droop, and towards Earth once bend<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your seduc'd eyes, down you will fall<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ev'n while you look, and forfeit all.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[228]</a></span></div></div> + + +<h4>LIB. III. METRUM II.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What fix'd affections, and lov'd laws<br /></span> +<span class="i0">—Which are the hid, magnetic cause—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wise Nature governs with, and by<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What fast, inviolable tie<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The whole creation to her ends<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For ever provident she bends:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All this I purpose to rehearse<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the sweet airs of solemn verse.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Although the Libyan lions should<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Be bound in chains of purest gold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And duly fed were taught to know<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their keeper's voice, and fear his blow:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet, if they chance to taste of blood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their rage which slept, stirr'd by that food<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In furious roaring will awake,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And fiercely for their freedom make.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No chains nor bars their fury brooks,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But with enrag'd and bloody looks<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They will break through, and dull'd with fear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their keeper all to pieces tear.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The bird, which on the wood's tall boughs<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sings sweetly, if you cage or house,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And out of kindest care should think<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To give her honey with her drink,<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[229]</a></span> +<span class="i0">And get her store of pleasant meat,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ev'n such as she delights to eat:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet, if from her close prison she<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The shady groves doth chance to see,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Straightway she loathes her pleasant food,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And with sad looks longs for the wood.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wood, the wood alone she loves!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And towards it she looks and moves:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in sweet notes—though distant from—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sings to her first and happy home!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That plant, which of itself doth grow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upwards, if forc'd, will downwards bow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But give it freedom, and it will<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Get up, and grow erectly still.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The sun, which by his prone descent<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Seems westward in the evening bent,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Doth nightly by an unseen way<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Haste to the East, and bring up day.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thus all things long for their first state,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And gladly to't return, though late.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor is there here to anything<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A course allow'd, but in a ring:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which, where it first began, must end,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And to that point directly tend.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[230]</a></span></div></div> + + +<h4>LIB. IV. METRUM VI.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Who would unclouded see the laws<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the supreme, eternal Cause,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let him with careful thoughts and eyes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Observe the high and spacious skies.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There in one league of love the stars<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Keep their old peace, and show our wars.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sun, though flaming still and hot,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The cold, pale moon annoyeth not.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Arcturus with his sons—though they<br /></span> +<span class="i0">See other stars go a far way,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And out of sight—yet still are found<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Near the North Pole, their noted bound.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bright Hesper—at set times—delights<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To usher in the dusky nights:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in the East again attends<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To warn us, when the day ascends.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So alternate Love supplies<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Eternal courses still, and vies<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mutual kindness; that no jars<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor discord can disturb the stars.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">The same sweet concord here below<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Makes the fierce elements to flow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And circle without quarrel still,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though temper'd diversely; thus will<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[231]</a></span> +<span class="i0">The hot assist the cold; the dry<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is a friend to humidity:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And by the law of kindness they<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The like relief to them repay.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The fire, which active is and bright,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tends upward, and from thence gives light.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The earth allows it all that space<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And makes choice of the lower place;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For things of weight haste to the centre,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A fall to them is no adventure.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">From these kind turns and circulation<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Seasons proceed, and generation.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This makes the Spring to yield us flow'rs,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And melts the clouds to gentle show'rs.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Summer thus matures all seeds<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And ripens both the corn and weeds.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This brings on Autumn, which recruits<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our old, spent store, with new fresh fruits.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the cold Winter's blust'ring season<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hath snow and storms for the same reason.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This temper and wise mixture breed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And bring forth ev'ry living seed.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And when their strength and substance spend<br /></span> +<span class="i0">—For while they live, they drive and tend<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still to a change—it takes them hence<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And shifts their dress! and to our sense<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their course is over, as their birth:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And hid from us they turn to earth.<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[232]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">But all this while the Prince of life<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sits without loss, or change, or strife:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Holding the reins, by which all move<br /></span> +<span class="i0">—And those His wisdom, power, love<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And justice are—and still what He<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The first life bids, that needs must be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And live on for a time; that done<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He calls it back, merely to shun<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The mischief, which His creature might<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Run into by a further flight.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For if this dear and tender sense<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of His preventing providence,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Did not restrain and call things back,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Both heav'n and earth would go to rack,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And from their great Preserver part;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As blood let out forsakes the heart<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And perisheth, but what returns<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With fresh and brighter spirits burns.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">This is the cause why ev'ry living<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Creature affects an endless being.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A grain of this bright love each thing<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had giv'n at first by their great King;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And still they creep—drawn on by this—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And look back towards their first bliss.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For, otherwise, it is most sure,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nothing that liveth could endure:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unless its love turn'd retrograde<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sought that First Life, which all things made.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[233]</a></span></div></div> + + +<h4>LIB. IV. METRUM III.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">If old tradition hath not fail'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ulysses, when from Troy he sail'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was by a tempest forc'd to land<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where beauteous Circe did command.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Circe, the daughter of the sun,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which had with charms and herbs undone<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Many poor strangers, and could then<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Turn into beasts the bravest men.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such magic in her potions lay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That whosoever passed that way<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And drank, his shape was quickly lost.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some into swine she turn'd, but most<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To lions arm'd with teeth and claws;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Others like wolves with open jaws<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Did howl; but some—more savage—took<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The tiger's dreadful shape and look.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But wise Ulysses, by the aid<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of Hermes, had to him convey'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A flow'r, whose virtue did suppress<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The force of charms, and their success:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While his mates drank so deep, that they<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Were turn'd to swine, which fed all day<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[234]</a></span> +<span class="i0">On mast, and human food had left,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of shape and voice at once bereft;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Only the mind—above all charms—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unchang'd did mourn those monstrous harms.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O, worthless herbs, and weaker arts,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To change their limbs, but not their hearts!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Man's life and vigour keep within,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lodg'd in the centre, not the skin.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Those piercing charms and poisons, which<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His inward parts taint and bewitch,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">More fatal are, than such, which can<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Outwardly only spoil the man.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Those change his shape and make it foul,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But these deform and kill his soul.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[235]</a></span></div></div> + + +<h4>LIB. III. METRUM VI.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">All sorts of men, that live on Earth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have one beginning and one birth.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For all things there is one Father,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who lays out all, and all doth gather.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He the warm sun with rays adorns,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And fills with brightness the moon's horns.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The azur'd heav'ns with stars He burnish'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the round world with creatures furnish'd.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But men—made to inherit all—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His own sons He was pleas'd to call,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And that they might be so indeed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He gave them souls of divine seed.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A noble offspring surely then<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Without distinction are all men.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O, why so vainly do some boast<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their birth and blood and a great host<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of ancestors, whose coats and crests<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are some rav'nous birds or beasts!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If extraction they look for,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And God, the great Progenitor,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No man, though of the meanest state,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is base, or can degenerate,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unless, to vice and lewdness bent,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He leaves and taints his true descent.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr class="major" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[236]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="THE_OLD_MAN_OF_VERONA_OUT_OF_CLAUDIAN_EPIGRAMMA_II" id="THE_OLD_MAN_OF_VERONA_OUT_OF_CLAUDIAN_EPIGRAMMA_II"></a> +THE OLD MAN OF VERONA OUT OF CLAUDIAN, [EPIGRAMMA II.]</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><i>Felix, qui propriis avum transegit in arvis,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>Una domus puerum, &c.</i><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Most happy man! who in his own sweet fields<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Spent all his time; to whom one cottage yields<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In age and youth a lodging; who, grown old,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Walks with his staff on the same soil and mould<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where he did creep an infant, and can tell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Many fair years spent in one quiet cell!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No toils of fate made him from home far known,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor foreign waters drank, driv'n from his own.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No loss by sea, no wild land's wasteful war<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Vex'd him, not the brib'd coil of gowns at bar.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Exempt from cares, in cities never seen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The fresh field-air he loves, and rural green.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The year's set turns by fruits, not consuls, knows;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Autumn by apples, May by blossom'd boughs.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Within one hedge his sun doth set and rise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The world's wide day his short demesnes comprise;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where he observes some known, concrescent twig<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now grown an oak, and old, like him, and big.<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[237]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Verona he doth for the Indies take,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And as the Red Sea counts Benacus' Lake.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet are his limbs and strength untir'd, and he,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A lusty grandsire, three descents doth see.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Travel and sail who will, search sea or shore;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This man hath liv'd, and that hath wander'd more.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr class="major" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[238]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="THE_SPHERE_OF_ARCHIMEDES_OUT_OF_CLAUDIAN_EPIGRAMMA_XVIII" id="THE_SPHERE_OF_ARCHIMEDES_OUT_OF_CLAUDIAN_EPIGRAMMA_XVIII"></a> +THE SPHERE OF ARCHIMEDES OUT OF CLAUDIAN, [EPIGRAMMA XVIII.]</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><i>Jupiter in parvo cum cerneret æthera vitro</i><br /></span> +<span class="i4"><i>Risit, et ad superos, &c.</i><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When Jove a heav'n of small glass did behold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He smil'd, and to the gods these words he told.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Comes then the power of man's art to this?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In a frail orb my work new acted is,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The poles' decrees, the fate of things, God's laws,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Down by his art old Archimedes draws.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Spirits inclos'd the sev'ral stars attend,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And orderly the living work they bend.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A feignèd Zodiac measures out the year,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ev'ry new month a false moon doth appear.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And now bold industry is proud, it can<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wheel round its world, and rule the stars by man.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Why at Salmoneus' thunder do I stand?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nature is rivall'd by a single hand."<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr class="major" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[239]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="THE_PHOENIX_OUT_OF_CLAUDIAN_IDYLL_I" id="THE_PHOENIX_OUT_OF_CLAUDIAN_IDYLL_I"></a> +THE PHŒNIX OUT OF CLAUDIAN, [IDYLL I.]</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><i>Oceani summo circumfluus æquore lucus</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>Trans Indos, Eurumque viret, &c.</i><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A grove there grows, round with the sea confin'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beyond the Indies and the Eastern wind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which, as the sun breaks forth in his first beam,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Salutes his steeds, and hears him whip his team;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When with his dewy coach the Eastern bay<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Crackles, whence blusheth the approaching Day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And blasted with his burnish'd wheels the Night<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In a pale dress doth vanish from the light.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">This the bless'd Phœnix' empire is, here he,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alone exempted from mortality,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Enjoys a land, where no diseases reign,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And ne'er afflicted like our world with pain.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A bird most equal to the gods, which vies<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For length of life and durance with the skies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And with renew'd limbs tires ev'ry age<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His appetite he never doth assuage<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With common food. Nor doth he use to drink<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When thirsty on some river's muddy brink.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A purer, vital heat shot from the sun<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Doth nourish him, and airy sweets that come<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[240]</a></span> +<span class="i0">From Tethys lap he tasteth at his need;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On such abstracted diet doth he feed.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A secret light there streams from both his eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A fiery hue about his cheeks doth rise.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His crest grows up into a glorious star<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Giv'n t' adorn his head, and shines so far,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That piercing through the bosom of the night<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It rends the darkness with a gladsome light.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His thighs like Tyrian scarlet, and his wings<br /></span> +<span class="i0">—More swift than winds are—have sky-colour'd rings<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Flow'ry and rich: and round about enroll'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their utmost borders glister all with gold.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He's not conceiv'd, nor springs he from the Earth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But is himself the parent, and the birth.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">None him begets; his fruitful death reprieves<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Old age, and by his funerals he lives.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For when the tedious Summer's gone about<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A thousand times: so many Winters out,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So many Springs: and May doth still restore<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Those leaves, which Autumn had blown off before;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then press'd with years his vigour doth decline,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Foil'd with the number; as a stately pine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tir'd out with storms bends from the top and height<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of Caucasus, and falls with its own weight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose part is torn with daily blasts, with rain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Part is consum'd, and part with age again;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So now his eyes grown dusky, fail to see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Far off, and drops of colder rheums there be<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[241]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Fall'n slow and dreggy from them; such in sight<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The cloudy moon is, having spent her light.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And now his wings, which usèd to contend<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With tempests, scarce from the low earth ascend.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He knows his time is out! and doth provide<br /></span> +<span class="i0">New principles of life; herbs he brings dried<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From the hot hills, and with rich spices frames<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A pile, shall burn, and hatch him with its flames.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On this the weakling sits; salutes the sun<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With pleasant noise, and prays and begs for some<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of his own fire, that quickly may restore<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The youth and vigour, which he had before.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whom, soon as Phœbus spies, stopping his reins,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He makes a stand and thus allays his pains.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O thou that buriest old age in thy grave,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And art by seeming funerals to have<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A new return of life, whose custom 'tis<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To rise by ruin, and by death to miss<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ev'n death itself, a new beginning take,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And that thy wither'd body now forsake!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Better thyself by this thy change! This said<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He shakes his locks, and from his golden head<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shoots one bright beam, which smites with vital fire<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The willing bird; to burn is his desire,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That he may live again: he's proud in death,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And goes in haste to gain a better breath.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The spicy heap fir'd with celestial rays<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Doth burn the aged Phœnix, when straight stays<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[242]</a></span> +<span class="i0">The chariot of th' amazèd moon; the pole<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Resists the wheeling swift orbs, and the whole<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fabric of Nature at a stand remains,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till the old bird a new young being gains.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All stop and charge the faithful flames, that they<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Suffer not Nature's glory to decay.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">By this time, life which in the ashes lurks<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hath fram'd the heart, and taught new blood new works;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The whole heap stirs, and ev'ry part assumes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Due vigour; th' embers too are turn'd to plumes;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The parent in the issue now revives,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But young and brisk; the bounds of both these lives,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With very little space between the same,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Were parted only by the middle flame.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To Nilus straight he goes to consecrate<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His parent's ghost; his mind is to translate<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His dust to Egypt. Now he hastes away<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Into a distant land, and doth convey<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The ashes in a turf. Birds do attend<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His journey without number, and defend<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His pious flight, like to a guard; the sky<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is clouded with the army, as they fly.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor is there one of all those thousands dares<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Affront his leader: they with solemn cares<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Attend the progress of their youthful king;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not the rude hawk, nor th' eagle that doth bring<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Arms up to Jove, fight now, lest they displease;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The miracle enacts a common peace.<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[243]</a></span> +<span class="i0">So doth the Parthian lead from Tigris' side<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His barbarous troops, full of a lavish pride<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In pearls and habit; he adorns his head<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With royal tires: his steed with gold is led;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His robes, for which the scarlet fish is sought,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With rare Assyrian needle-work are wrought;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And proudly reigning o'er his rascal bands,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He raves and triumphs in his large commands.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A city of Egypt, famous in all lands<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For rites, adores the sun; his temple stands<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There on a hundred pillars by account,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Digg'd from the quarries of the Theban mount.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here, as the custom did require—they say—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His happy parent's dust down he doth lay;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then to the image of his lord he bends<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And to the flames his burden straight commends.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unto the altars thus he destinates<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His own remains; the light doth gild the gates;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Perfumes divine the censers up do send:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While th' Indian odour doth itself extend<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the Pelusian fens, and filleth all<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The men it meets with the sweet storm. A gale,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To which compar'd nectar itself is vile,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fills the sev'n channels of the misty Nile.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O happy bird! sole heir to thy own dust!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Death, to whose force all other creatures must<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Submit, saves thee. Thy ashes make thee rise;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis not thy nature, but thy age that dies.<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[244]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Thou hast seen all! and to the times that run<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou art as great a witness as the sun.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou saw'st the deluge, when the sea outvied<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The land, and drown'd the mountains with the tide.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What year the straggling Phæton did fire<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The world, thou know'st. And no plagues can conspire<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Against thy life; alone thou dost arise<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Above mortality; the destinies<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Spin not thy days out with their fatal clue;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They have no law, to which thy life is due.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr class="major" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[245]</a></span></p> +<h2> +<a name="PIOUS_THOUGHTS_AND_EJACULATIONS" id="PIOUS_THOUGHTS_AND_EJACULATIONS"></a> +PIOUS THOUGHTS AND EJACULATIONS. +</h2> + + +<hr class="major" /> +<h3><a name="TO_HIS_BOOKS" id="TO_HIS_BOOKS"></a>TO HIS BOOKS.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Bright books! the perspectives to our weak sights,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The clear projections of discerning lights,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Burning and shining thoughts, man's posthume day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The track of fled souls, and their Milky Way,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The dead alive and busy, the still voice<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of enlarg'd spirits, kind Heav'n's white decoys!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who lives with you, lives like those knowing flow'rs,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which in commerce with light spend all their hours:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which shut to clouds, and shadows nicely shun,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But with glad haste unveil to kiss the sun.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beneath you, all is dark, and a dead night,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which whoso lives in, wants both health and sight.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">By sucking you, the wise—like bees—do grow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Healing and rich, though this they do most slow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Because most choicely; for as great a store<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have we of books, as bees of herbs, or more:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the great task, to try, then know, the good.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To discern weeds, and judge of wholesome food,<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[246]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Is a rare, scant performance: for man dies<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oft ere 'tis done, while the bee feeds and flies.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But you were all choice flow'rs, all set and drest<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By old sage florists, who well knew the best:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I amidst you all am turned a weed!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not wanting knowledge, but for want of heed.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then thank thyself, wild fool, that wouldst not be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Content to know—what was too much for thee!<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr class="major" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[247]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="LOOKING_BACK" id="LOOKING_BACK"></a>LOOKING BACK.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Fair shining mountains of my pilgrimage<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And flowery vales, whose flow'rs were stars,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The days and nights of my first happy age;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An age without distaste and wars!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When I by thoughts ascend your sunny heads,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And mind those sacred midnight lights<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By which I walk'd, when curtain'd rooms and beds<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Confin'd or seal'd up others' sights:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O then, how bright,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And quick a light<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Doth brush my heart and scatter night;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Chasing that shade,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which my sins made,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While I so spring, as if I could not fade!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How brave a prospect is a bright back-side!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where flow'rs and palms refresh the eye!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And days well spent like the glad East abide,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whose morning-glories cannot die!<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr class="major" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[248]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="THE_SHOWER" id="THE_SHOWER"></a>THE SHOWER.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Waters above! eternal springs!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The dew that silvers the Dove's wings!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O welcome, welcome to the sad!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Give dry dust drink; drink that makes glad!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Many fair ev'nings, many flow'rs<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sweeten'd with rich and gentle showers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have I enjoy'd, and down have run<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Many a fine and shining sun;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But never, till this happy hour,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was blest with such an evening-shower!<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr class="major" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[249]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="DISCIPLINE" id="DISCIPLINE"></a>DISCIPLINE.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Fair Prince of Light! Light's living Well<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who hast the keys of death and Hell!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If the mole<a name="FNanchor_66_66" id="FNanchor_66_66"></a><a href="#Footnote_66_66" class="fnanchor">[66]</a> man despise Thy day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Put chains of darkness in his way.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Teach him how deep, how various are<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The counsels of Thy love and care.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When acts of grace and a long peace,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Breed but rebellion, and displease,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then give him his own way and will,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where lawless he may run, until<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His own choice hurts him, and the sting<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of his foul sins full sorrows bring.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If Heaven and angels, hopes and mirth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Please not the mole so much as earth:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Give him his mine to dig, or dwell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And one sad scheme of hideous Hell.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_66_66" id="Footnote_66_66"></a><a href="#FNanchor_66_66"><span class="label">[66]</span></a> The original edition has <i>mule</i>.</p></div> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[250]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="THE_ECLIPSE" id="THE_ECLIPSE"></a>THE ECLIPSE.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Whither, O whither didst thou fly<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When I did grieve Thine holy eye?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When Thou didst mourn to see me lost,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all Thy care and counsels cross'd.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O do not grieve, where'er Thou art!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy grief is an undoing smart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which doth not only pain, but break<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My heart, and makes me blush to speak.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy anger I could kiss, and will;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But O Thy grief, Thy grief, doth kill.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr class="major" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[251]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="AFFLICTION" id="AFFLICTION"></a>AFFLICTION.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O come, and welcome! come, refine!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For Moors, if wash'd by Thee, will shine.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Man blossoms at Thy touch; and he,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When Thou draw'st blood is Thy rose-tree.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Crosses make straight his crookèd ways,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And clouds but cool his dog-star days;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Diseases too, when by Thee blest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are both restoratives and rest.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Flow'rs that in sunshines riot still,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Die scorch'd and sapless; though storms kill,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The fall is fair, e'en to desire,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where in their sweetness all expire.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O come, pour on! what calms can be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So fair as storms, that appease Thee?<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr class="major" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[252]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="RETIREMENT" id="RETIREMENT"></a>RETIREMENT.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Fresh fields and woods! the Earth's fair face!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">God's footstool! and man's dwelling-place!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I ask not why the first believer<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Did love to be a country liver?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who, to secure pious content,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Did pitch by groves and wells his tent;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where he might view the boundless sky,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all those glorious lights on high,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With flying meteors, mists, and show'rs,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Subjected hills, trees, meads, and flow'rs,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And ev'ry minute bless the King<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And wise Creator of each thing.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">I ask not why he did remove<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To happy Mamre's holy grove,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Leaving the cities of the plain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To Lot and his successless train?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All various lusts in cities still<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are found; they are the thrones of ill,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The dismal sinks, where blood is spill'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cages with much uncleanness fill'd:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But rural shades are the sweet sense<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of piety and innocence;<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[253]</a></span> +<span class="i0">They are the meek's calm region, where<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Angels descend and rule the sphere;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where Heaven lies leiguer, and the Dove<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Duly as dew comes from above.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If Eden be on Earth at all,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis that which we the country call.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr class="major" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[254]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="THE_REVIVAL" id="THE_REVIVAL"></a>THE REVIVAL.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Unfold! unfold! Take in His light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who makes thy cares more short than night.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The joys which with His day-star rise<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He deals to all but drowsy eyes;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, what the men of this world miss,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some drops and dews of future bliss.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Hark! how His winds have chang'd their note!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And with warm whispers call thee out;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The frosts are past, the storms are gone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And backward life at last comes on.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The lofty groves in express joys<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Reply unto the turtle's voice;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And here in dust and dirt, O here<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The lilies of His love appear!<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr class="major" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[255]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="THE_DAY_SPRING" id="THE_DAY_SPRING"></a>THE DAY SPRING.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Early, while yet the dark was gay<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And gilt with stars, more trim than day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Heav'n's Lily, and the Earth's chaste Rose,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The green immortal Branch arose;</span> +<div style='float:right;margin-right:7em;width:7em;'> + <div style='float:left;font-size:300%;font-weight:lighter;padding-right:6px;'> + <p style='margin:0;line-height:1em;text-indent:0;text-align:left;'>}</p> + </div> + <p style='margin:0.5em 0 0 0;line-height:1em;text-indent:0;text-align:left;'>S. Mark,</p> + <p style='margin:0;line-height:1em;text-indent:0;'>c. 1, v. 35-</p> +</div> + +<span class="i0">And in a solitary place<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bow'd to His Father His blest face.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">If this calm season pleased my Prince,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose fulness no need could evince,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Why should not I, poor silly sheep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His hours, as well as practice, keep?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not that His hand is tied to these,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From whom Time holds his transient lease<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But mornings new creations are,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When men, all night sav'd by His care,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are still reviv'd; and well He may<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Expect them grateful with the day.<br /></span> + +<div style='float:right;margin-right:7em;width:7em;'> + <div style='float:left;font-size:300%;font-weight:lighter;padding-right:6px;'> + <p style='margin:0;line-height:1em;text-indent:0'>}</p> + </div> + <p style='margin:0.5em 0 0 0;line-height:1em;text-indent:0;text-align:left;'>Job, c. 38,</p> + <p style='margin:0;line-height:1em;text-indent:0;text-align:left;'>v. 7</p> +</div> + +<span class="i0">So for that first draught of His hand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which finish'd heav'n, and sea, and land,</span> +<span class="i0">The sons of God their thanks did bring,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all the morning stars did sing.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Besides, as His part heretofore<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The firstlings were of all that bore<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[256]</a></span> +<span class="i0">So now each day from all He saves<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their soul's first thoughts and fruits He craves.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This makes Him daily shed and show'r<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His graces at this early hour;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which both His care and kindness show,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cheering the good, quickening the slow.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As holy friends mourn at delay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And think each minute an hour's stay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So His Divine and loving Dove<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With longing throes<a name="FNanchor_67_67" id="FNanchor_67_67"></a><a href="#Footnote_67_67" class="fnanchor">[67]</a> doth heave and move,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And soar about us while we sleep;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sometimes quite through that lock doth peep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And shine, but always without fail,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Before the slow sun can unveil,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In new compassions breaks, like light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And morning-looks, which scatter night.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And wilt Thou let Thy creature be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When Thou hast watch'd, asleep to Thee?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Why to unwelcome loath'd surprises<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dost leave him, having left his vices?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since these, if suffer'd, may again<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lead back the living to the slain.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O, change this scourge; or, if as yet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">None less will my transgressions fit,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dissolve, dissolve! Death cannot do<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What I would not submit unto.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_67_67" id="Footnote_67_67"></a><a href="#FNanchor_67_67"><span class="label">[67]</span></a> The original has <i>throws</i>.</p></div> +</div> + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[257]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="THE_RECOVERY" id="THE_RECOVERY"></a>THE RECOVERY.</h3> + + +<h4>I.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Fair vessel of our daily light, whose proud<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And previous glories gild that blushing cloud;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose lively fires in swift projections glance<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From hill to hill, and by refracted chance<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Burnish some neighbour-rock, or tree, and then<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fly off in coy and wingèd flames again:<br /></span> +<span class="i8">If thou this day<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Hold on thy way,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Know, I have got a greater light than thine;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A light, whose shade and back-parts make thee shine.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Then get thee down! then get thee down!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I have a Sun now of my own.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h4>II.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Those nicer livers, who without thy rays<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stir not abroad, those may thy lustre praise;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And wanting light—light, which no wants doth know—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To thee—weak shiner!—like blind Persians bow.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But where that Sun, which tramples on thy head,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From His own bright eternal eye doth shed<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[258]</a></span> +<span class="i8">One living ray,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">There thy dead day<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is needless, and man to a light made free,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which shows that thou canst neither show nor see.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Then get thee down! then get thee down!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I have a Sun now of my own.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr class="major" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[259]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="THE_NATIVITY" id="THE_NATIVITY"></a>THE NATIVITY.</h3> + +<p class='center'>Written in the year 1656.</p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Peace? and to all the world? Sure One,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And He the Prince of Peace, hath none!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He travels to be born, and then<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is born to travel more again.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Poor Galilee! thou canst not be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The place for His Nativity.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His restless mother's call'd away,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And not deliver'd till she pay.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">A tax? 'tis so still! we can see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Church thrive in her misery,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, like her Head at Beth'lem, rise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When she, oppress'd with troubles, lies.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rise?—should all fall, we cannot be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In more extremities than He.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Great Type of passions! Come what will,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy grief exceeds all copies still.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou cam'st from Heav'n to Earth, that we<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Might go from Earth to Heav'n with Thee:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And though Thou found'st no welcome here,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou didst provide us mansions there.<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[260]</a></span> +<span class="i0">A stable was Thy Court, and when<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Men turn'd to beasts, beasts would be men:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They were Thy courtiers; others none;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And their poor manger was Thy throne.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No swaddling silks Thy limbs did fold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though Thou couldst turn Thy rays to gold.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No rockers waited on Thy birth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No cradles stirr'd, nor songs of mirth;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But her chaste lap and sacred breast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which lodg'd Thee first, did give Thee rest.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">But stay: what light is that doth stream<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And drop here in a gilded beam?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It is Thy star runs page, and brings<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy tributary Eastern kings.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lord! grant some light to us, that we<br /></span> +<span class="i0">May with them find the way to Thee!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Behold what mists eclipse the day!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How dark it is! Shed down one ray,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To guide us out of this dark night,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And say once more, "Let there be light!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr class="major" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[261]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="THE_TRUE_CHRISTMAS" id="THE_TRUE_CHRISTMAS"></a> +THE TRUE CHRISTMAS.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">So, stick up ivy and the bays,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And then restore the heathen ways.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Green will remind you of the spring,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though this great day denies the thing;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And mortifies the earth, and all<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But your wild revels, and loose hall.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Could you wear flow'rs, and roses strow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Blushing upon your breasts' warm snow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That very dress your lightness will<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rebuke, and wither at the ill.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The brightness of this day we owe<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not unto music, masque, nor show,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor gallant furniture, nor plate,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But to the manger's mean estate.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His life while here, as well as birth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was but a check to pomp and mirth;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all man's greatness you may see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Condemned by His humility.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Then leave your open house and noise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To welcome Him with holy joys,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the poor shepherds' watchfulness,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whom light and hymns from Heav'n did bless.<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[262]</a></span> +<span class="i0">What you abound with, cast abroad<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To those that want, and ease your load.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who empties thus, will bring more in;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But riot is both loss and sin.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dress finely what comes not in sight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And then you keep your Christmas right.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr class="major" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[263]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="THE_REQUEST" id="THE_REQUEST"></a>THE REQUEST.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O thou who didst deny to me<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This world's ador'd felicity,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And ev'ry big imperious lust,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which fools admire in sinful dust,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With those fine subtle twists, that tie<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their bundles of foul gallantry—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Keep still my weak eyes from the shine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of those gay things which are not Thine!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And shut my ears against the noise<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of wicked, though applauded, joys!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For Thou in any land hast store<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of shades and coverts for Thy poor;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where from the busy dust and heat,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As well as storms, they may retreat.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A rock or bush are downy beds,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When Thou art there, crowning their heads<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With secret blessings, or a tire<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Made of the Comforter's live fire.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And when Thy goodness in the dress<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of anger will not seem to bless,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet dost Thou give them that rich rain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which, as it drops, clears all again.<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[264]</a></span> +<span class="i2">O what kind visits daily pass<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twixt Thy great self and such poor grass:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With what sweet looks doth Thy love shine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On those low violets of Thine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While the tall tulip is accurst,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And crowns imperial die with thirst!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O give me still those secret meals,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Those rare repasts which Thy love deals!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Give me that joy, which none can grieve,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And which in all griefs doth relieve!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This is the portion Thy child begs;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not that of rust, and rags, and dregs.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr class="major" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[265]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="JORDANIS" id="JORDANIS"></a>JORDANIS.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Quid celebras auratam undam, et combusta pyropis<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Flumina, vel medio quæ serit æthra salo?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Æternum refluis si pernoctaret in undis<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Phœbus, et incertam sidera suda Tethyn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Si colerent, tantæ gemmæ! nil cærula librem:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sorderet rubro in littore dives Eos.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pactoli mea lympha macras ditabit arenas,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Atque universum gutta minuta Tagum.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O caram caput! O cincinnos unda beatos<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Libata! O Domini balnea sancta mei!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Quod fortunatum voluit spectare canalem,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Hoc erat in laudes area parva tuas.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Jordanis in medio perfusus flumine lavit,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Divinoque tuas ore beavit aquas.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ah! Solyma infelix rivis obsessa prophanis!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Amisit genium porta Bethesda suum.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hic Orientis aquæ currunt, et apostata Parphar,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Atque Abana immundo turbidus amne fluit,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ethnica te totam cum fœdavere fluenta,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Mansit Christicolâ Jordanis unus aqua.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr class="major" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[266]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="SERVILII_FATUM_SIVE_VINDICTA_DIVINA" id="SERVILII_FATUM_SIVE_VINDICTA_DIVINA"></a> +SERVILII FATUM, SIVE VINDICTA DIVINA.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Et sic in cithara, sic in dulcedine vitæ<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Et facti et luctus regnat amarities.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Quam subito in fastum extensos atque esseda<a name="FNanchor_68_68" id="FNanchor_68_68"></a><a href="#Footnote_68_68" class="fnanchor">[68]</a> vultus<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ultrici oppressit vilis arena sinu!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Si violæ, spiransque crocus: si lilium +<span title='aeinon'>ἀέινον</span><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Non nisi justorum nascitur e cinere:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Spinarum, tribulique atque infelicis avenæ<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Quantus in hoc tumulo et qualis acervus erit?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dii superi! damnosa piis sub sidera longum<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Mansuris stabilem conciliate fidem!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sic olim in cœlum post nimbos clarius ibunt,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Supremo occidui tot velut astra die.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Quippe ruunt horæ, qualisque in corpore vixit,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Talis it in tenebras bis moriturus homo.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_68_68" id="Footnote_68_68"></a><a href="#FNanchor_68_68"><span class="label">[68]</span></a> The original edition misprints <i>essera</i>.</p></div> +</div> + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[267]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="DE_SALMONE" id="DE_SALMONE"></a>DE SALMONE</h3> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<i>Ad virum optimum, et sibi familiarius notum: D. Thomam Poellum +Cantrevensem: S. S. Theologiæ Doctorem.</i> +</div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Accipe prærapido salmonem in gurgite captum,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ex imo in summas cum penetrasset aquas,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mentitæ culicis quem forma elusit inanis:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Picta coloratis plumea musca notis.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dum captat, capitur; vorat inscius, ipse vorandus;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Fitque cibi raptor grata rapina mali.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alma quies! miseræ merces ditissima vitæ,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Quam tuto in tacitis hic latuisset aquis!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Qui dum spumosi fremitus et murmura rivi<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Quæritat, hamato sit cita præda cibo,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Quam grave magnarum specimen dant ludicra rerum?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Gurges est mundus: salmo, homo: pluma, dolus.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr class="major" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[268]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="THE_WORLD" id="THE_WORLD"></a>THE WORLD.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Can any tell me what it is? Can you<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That wind your thoughts into a clue<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To guide out others, while yourselves stay in,<br /></span> +<span class="i5">And hug the sin?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I, who so long have in it liv'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i5">That, if I might,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In truth I would not be repriev'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i5">Have neither sight<br /></span> +<span class="i5">Nor sense that knows<br /></span> +<span class="i5">These ebbs and flows:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But since of all all may be said,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And likeliness doth but upbraid<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And mock the truth, which still is lost<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In fine conceits, like streams in a sharp frost;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I will not strive, nor the rule break,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which doth give losers leave to speak.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then false and foul world, and unknown<br /></span> +<span class="i5">Ev'n to thy own,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Here I renounce thee, and resign<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whatever thou canst say is thine.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">Thou art not Truth! for he that tries<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shall find thee all deceit and lies,<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[269]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Thou art not Friendship! for in thee<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis but the bait of policy;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which like a viper lodg'd in flow'rs,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its venom through that sweetness pours;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And when not so, then always 'tis<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A fading paint, the short-liv'd bliss<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of air and humour; out and in,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like colours in a dolphin's skin;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But must not live beyond one day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or convenience; then away.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou art not Riches! for that trash,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which one age hoards, the next doth wash<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And so severely sweep away,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That few remember where it lay.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So rapid streams the wealthy land<br /></span> +<span class="i0">About them have at their command;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And shifting channels here restore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There break down, what they bank'd before.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou art not Honour! for those gay<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Feathers will wear and drop away;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And princes to some upstart line<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gives new ones, that are full as fine.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou art not Pleasure! for thy rose<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upon a thorn doth still repose;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which, if not cropp'd, will quickly shed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But soon as cropp'd, grows dull and dead.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thou art the sand, which fills one glass,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And then doth to another pass;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And could I put thee to a stay,<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[270]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Thou art but dust! Then go thy way,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And leave me clean and bright, though poor;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who stops thee doth but daub his floor;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, swallow-like, when he hath done,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To unknown dwellings must be gone!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Welcome, pure thoughts, and peaceful hours,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Enrich'd with sunshine and with show'rs;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Welcome fair hopes, and holy cares,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The not to be repented shares<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of time and business; the sure road<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unto my last and lov'd abode!<br /></span> +<span class="i8">O supreme Bliss!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Circle, Centre, and Abyss<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of blessings, never let me miss<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor leave that path which leads to Thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who art alone all things to me!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I hear, I see, all the long day<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The noise and pomp of the broad way.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I note their coarse and proud approaches,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their silks, perfumes, and glittering coaches.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But in the narrow way to Thee<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I observe only poverty,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And despis'd things; and all along<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The ragged, mean, and humble throng<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are still on foot; and as they go<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They sigh, and say, their Lord went so.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Give me my staff then, as it stood<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When green and growing in the wood;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">—Those stones, which for the altar serv'd,<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[271]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Might not be smooth'd, nor finely carv'd—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With this poor stick I'll pass the ford,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As Jacob did; and Thy dear word,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As Thou hast dress'd it, not as wit<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And deprav'd tastes have poison'd it,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall in the passage be my meat,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And none else will Thy servant eat.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus, thus, and in no other sort,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will I set forth, though laugh'd at for't;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And leaving the wise world their way,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Go through, though judg'd to go astray.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr class="major" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[272]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="THE_BEE" id="THE_BEE"></a>THE BEE.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">From fruitful beds and flow'ry borders,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Parcell'd to wasteful ranks and orders,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where State grasps more than plain Truth needs,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And wholesome herbs are starv'd by weeds,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the wild woods I will be gone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the coarse meals of great Saint John.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">When truth and piety are miss'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Both in the rulers and the priest;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When pity is not cold, but dead,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the rich eat the poor like bread;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While factious heads with open coil<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And force, first make, then share, the spoil;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To Horeb then Elias goes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in the desert grows the rose.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Hail crystal fountains and fresh shades,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where no proud look invades,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No busy worldling hunts away<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sad retirer all the day!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hail, happy, harmless solitude!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our sanctuary from the rude<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And scornful world; the calm recess<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of faith, and hope, and holiness!<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[273]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Here something still like Eden looks;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Honey in woods, juleps in brooks,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And flow'rs, whose rich, unrifled sweets<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With a chaste kiss the cool dew greets,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the toils of the day are done,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the tir'd world sets with the sun.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here flying winds and flowing wells<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are the wise, watchful hermit's bells;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their busy murmurs all the night<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To praise or prayer do invite,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And with an awful sound arrest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And piously employ his breast.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">When in the East the dawn doth blush,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here cool, fresh spirits the air brush;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Herbs straight get up, flow'rs peep and spread,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Trees whisper praise, and bow the head:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Birds, from the shades of night releas'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Look round about, then quit the nest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And with united gladness sing<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The glory of the morning's King.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The hermit hears, and with meek voice<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Offers his own up, and their joys:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then prays that all the world may be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bless'd with as sweet an unity.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">If sudden storms the day invade,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They flock about him to the shade:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where wisely they expect the end,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Giving the tempest time to spend;<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[274]</a></span> +<span class="i0">And hard by shelters on some bough<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hilarion's servant, the sage crow.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">O purer years of light and grace!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The diff'rence is great as the space<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twixt you and us, who blindly run<br /></span> +<span class="i0">After false fires, and leave the sun.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is not fair Nature of herself<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Much richer than dull paint or pelf?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And are not streams at the spring-head<br /></span> +<span class="i0">More sweet than in carv'd stone or lead?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But fancy and some artist's tools<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Frame a religion for fools.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">The truth, which once was plainly taught,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With thorns and briars now is fraught.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some part is with bold fables spotted,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some by strange comments wildly blotted;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Discord—old Corruption's crest—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With blood and blame hath stain'd the rest.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So snow, which in its first descents<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A whiteness, like pure Heav'n, presents,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When touch'd by man is quickly soil'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And after, trodden down and spoil'd.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">O lead me, where I may be free<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In truth and spirit to serve Thee!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where undisturb'd I may converse<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With Thy great Self; and there rehearse<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy gifts with thanks; and from Thy store,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who art all blessings, beg much more.<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[275]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Give me the wisdom of the bee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And her unwearied industry!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That from the wild gourds of these days,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I may extract health, and Thy praise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who canst turn darkness into light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in my weakness show Thy might.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Suffer me not in any want<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To seek refreshment from a plant<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou didst not set; since all must be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pluck'd up, whose growth is not from Thee.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis not the garden, and the bow'rs,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor sense and forms, that give to flow'rs<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their wholesomeness, but Thy good will,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which truth and pureness purchase still.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Then since corrupt man hath driv'n hence<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy kind and saving influence,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And balm is no more to be had<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In all the coasts of Gilead;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Go with me to the shade and cell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where Thy best servants once did dwell.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There let me know Thy will, and see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Exil'd Religion own'd by Thee;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For Thou canst turn dark grots to halls,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And make hills blossom like the vales;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Decking their untill'd heads with flow'rs,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And fresh delights for all sad hours;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till from them, like a laden bee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I may fly home, and hive with Thee<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr class="major" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[276]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="TO_CHRISTIAN_RELIGION" id="TO_CHRISTIAN_RELIGION"></a> +TO CHRISTIAN RELIGION.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Farewell, thou true and tried reflection<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the still poor, and meek election:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Farewell, soul's joy, the quick'ning health<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of spirits, and their secret wealth!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Farewell, my morning-star, the bright<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And dawning looks of the True Light!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O blessed shiner, tell me whither<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou wilt be gone, when night comes hither!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A seër that observ'd thee in<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy course, and watch'd the growth of sin,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hath giv'n his judgment, and foretold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That westward hence thy course will hold;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And when the day with us is done,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There fix, and shine a glorious sun.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O hated shades and darkness! when<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You have got here the sway again,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And like unwholesome fogs withstood<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The light, and blasted all that's good,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who shall the happy shepherds be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To watch the next nativity<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of truth and brightness, and make way<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For the returning, rising day?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O what year will bring back our bliss?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or who shall live, when God doth this?<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[277]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Thou Rock of Ages! and the Rest<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of all, that for Thee are oppress'd!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Send down the Spirit of Thy truth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That Spirit, which the tender youth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And first growths of Thy Spouse did spread<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through all the world, from one small head!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then if to blood we must resist,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let Thy mild Dove, and our High-Priest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Help us, when man proves false or frowns,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To bear the Cross, and save our crowns.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O honour those that honour Thee!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Make babes to still the enemy!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And teach an infant of few days<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To perfect by his death Thy praise!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let none defile what Thou didst wed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor tear the garland from her head!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But chaste and cheerful let her die,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And precious in the Bridegroom's eye<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So to Thy glory and her praise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">These last shall be her brightest days.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Revel[ation] chap. last, vers. 17.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">"<i>The Spirit and the Bride say, Come.</i>"<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr class="major" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[278]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="DAPHNIS" id="DAPHNIS"></a>DAPHNIS.</h3> + +<p class='center'><i>An Elegiac Eclogue. The Interlocutors, Damon, Menalcas.</i></p> + + +<h4><i>Damon.</i></h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">What clouds, Menalcas, do oppress thy brow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Flow'rs in a sunshine never look so low?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is Nisa still cold flint? or have thy lambs<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Met with the fox by straying from their dams?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4><i>Menalcas.</i></h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Ah, Damon, no! my lambs are safe; and she<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is kind, and much more white than they can be.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But what doth life when most serene afford<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Without a worm which gnaws her fairest gourd?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our days of gladness are but short reliefs,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Giv'n to reserve us for enduring griefs:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So smiling calms close tempests breed, which break<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like spoilers out, and kill our flocks when weak.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I heard last May—and May is still high Spring—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The pleasant Philomel her vespers sing.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The green wood glitter'd with the golden sun.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all the west like silver shin'd; not one<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[279]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Black cloud; no rags, nor spots did stain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The welkin's beauty; nothing frown'd like rain.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But ere night came, that scene of fine sights turn'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To fierce dark show'rs; the air with lightnings burn'd;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wood's sweet syren, rudely thus oppress'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gave to the storm her weak and weary breast.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I saw her next day on her last cold bed:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Daphnis so, just so is Daphnis, dead!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4><i>Damon.</i></h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">So violets, so doth the primrose, fall,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At once the Spring's pride, and its funeral.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such easy sweets get off still in their prime,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And stay not here to wear the soil of time;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While coarser flow'rs, which none would miss, if past,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To scorching Summers and cold Autumns last.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4><i>Menalcas.</i></h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Souls need not time. The early forward things<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are always fledg'd, and gladly use their wings.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or else great parts, when injur'd, quit the crowd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To shine above still, not behind, the cloud.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And is't not just to leave those to the night<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That madly hate and persecute the light?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who, doubly dark, all negroes do exceed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And inwardly are true black Moors indeed?<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[280]</a></span></div></div> + +<h4><i>Damon.</i></h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">The punishment still manifests the sin,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As outward signs show the disease within.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While worth oppress'd mounts to a nobler height,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And palm-like bravely overtops the weight.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">So where swift Isca from our lofty hills<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With loud farewells descends, and foaming fills<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A wider channel, like some great port-vein<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With large rich streams to fill the humble plain:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I saw an oak, whose stately height and shade,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Projected far, a goodly shelter made;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And from the top with thick diffusèd boughs<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In distant rounds grew like a wood-nymph's house.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here many garlands won at roundel-lays<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Old shepherds hung up in those happy days<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With knots and girdles, the dear spoils and dress<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of such bright maids as did true lovers bless.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And many times had old Amphion made<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His beauteous flock acquainted with this shade:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His flock, whose fleeces were as smooth and white<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As those the welkin shows in moonshine night.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here, when the careless world did sleep, have I<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In dark records and numbers nobly high,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The visions of our black, but brightest bard<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From old Amphion's mouth full often heard;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With all those plagues poor shepherds since have known,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And riddles more, which future time must own:<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[281]</a></span> +<span class="i0">While on his pipe young Hylas play'd, and made<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Music as solemn as the song and shade.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the curs'd owner from the trembling top<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the firm brink did all those branches lop;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in one hour what many years had bred,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The pride and beauty of the plain, lay dead.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The undone swains in sad songs mourn'd their loss,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While storms and cold winds did improve the cross;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But nature, which—like virtue—scorns to yield,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Brought new recruits and succours to the field;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For by next spring the check'd sap wak'd from sleep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And upwards still to feel the sun did creep;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till at those wounds, the hated hewer made,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There sprang a thicker and a fresher shade.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4><i>Menalcas.</i></h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">So thrives afflicted Truth, and so the light<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When put out gains a value from the night.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How glad are we, when but one twinkling star<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Peeps betwixt clouds more black than is our tar:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Providence was kind, that order'd this<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the brave suff'rer should be solid bliss:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor is it so till this short life be done,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But goes hence with him, and is still his sun.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4><i>Damon.</i></h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Come, shepherds, then, and with your greenest bays<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Refresh his dust, who lov'd your learnèd lays.<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[282]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Bring here the florid glories of the spring,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, as you strew them, pious anthems sing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which to your children and the years to come<br /></span> +<span class="i0">May speak of Daphnis, and be never dumb.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While prostrate I drop on his quiet urn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My tears, not gifts; and like the poor that mourn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With green but humble turfs, write o'er his hearse<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For false, foul prose-men this fair truth in verse.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Here Daphnis sleeps, and while the great watch goes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of loud and restless Time, takes his repose.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fame is but noise; all Learning but a thought;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which one admires, another sets at nought,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nature mocks both, and Wit still keeps ado:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But Death brings knowledge and assurance too."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4><i>Menalcas.</i></h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Cast in your garlands! strew on all the flow'rs,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which May with smiles or April feeds with show'rs,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let this day's rites as steadfast as the sun<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Keep pace with Time and through all ages run;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The public character and famous test<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of our long sorrows and his lasting rest.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And when we make procession on the plains,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or yearly keep the holiday of swains,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let Daphnis still be the recorded name,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And solemn honour of our feasts and fame.<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[283]</a></span> +<span class="i0">For though the Isis and the prouder Thames<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Can show his relics lodg'd hard by their streams:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And must for ever to the honour'd name<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of noble Murrey chiefly owe that fame:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet here his stars first saw him, and when Fate<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beckon'd him hence, it knew no other date.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor will these vocal woods and valleys fail,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor Isca's louder streams, this to bewail;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But while swains hope, and seasons change, will glide<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With moving murmurs because Daphnis died.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4><i>Damon.</i></h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">A fatal sadness, such as still foregoes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then runs along with public plagues and woes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lies heavy on us; and the very light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Turn'd mourner too, hath the dull looks of night.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our vales, like those of death, a darkness show<br /></span> +<span class="i0">More sad than cypress or the gloomy yew;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And on our hills, where health with height complied,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thick drowsy mists hang round, and there reside.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not one short parcel of the tedious year<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In its old dress and beauty doth appear.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Flow'rs hate the spring, and with a sullen bend<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thrust down their heads, which to the root still tend.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And though the sun, like a cold lover, peeps<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A little at them, still the day's-eye sleeps.<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[284]</a></span> +<span class="i0">But when the Crab and Lion with acute<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And active fires their sluggish heat recruit,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our grass straight russets, and each scorching day<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Drinks up our brooks as fast as dew in May;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till the sad herdsman with his cattle faints,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And empty channels ring with loud complaints.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4><i>Menalcas.</i></h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Heaven's just displeasure, and our unjust ways,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Change Nature's course; bring plagues, dearth, and decays.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This turns our lands to dust, the skies to brass,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Makes old kind blessings into curses pass:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And when we learn unknown and foreign crimes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Brings in the vengeance due unto those climes.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The dregs and puddle of all ages now,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like rivers near their fall, on us do flow.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ah, happy Daphnis! who while yet the streams<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ran clear and warm, though but with setting beams,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Got through, and saw by that declining light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His toil's and journey's end before the night.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4><i>Damon.</i></h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">A night, where darkness lays her chains and bars,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And feral fires appear instead of stars.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But he, along with the last looks of day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Went hence, and setting—sunlike—pass'd away.<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[285]</a></span> +<span class="i0">What future storms our present sins do hatch<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some in the dark discern, and others watch;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though foresight makes no hurricane prove mild,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fury that's long fermenting is most wild.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But see, while thus our sorrows we discourse,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Phœbus hath finish'd his diurnal course;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The shades prevail: each bush seems bigger grown;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Darkness—like State—makes small things swell and frown:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The hills and woods with pipes and sonnets round,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And bleating sheep our swains drive home, resound.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4><i>Menalcas.</i></h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">What voice from yonder lawn tends hither? Hark!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis Thyrsis calls! I hear Lycanthe bark!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His flocks left out so late, and weary grown,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are to the thickets gone, and there laid down.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4><i>Damon.</i></h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Menalcas, haste to look them out! poor sheep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When day is done, go willingly to sleep:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And could bad man his time spend as they do,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He might go sleep, or die, as willing too.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4><i>Menalcas.</i></h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Farewell! kind Damon! now the shepherd's star<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With beauteous looks smiles on us, though from far.<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[286]</a></span> +<span class="i0">All creatures that were favourites of day<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are with the sun retir'd and gone away.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While feral birds send forth unpleasant notes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And night—the nurse of thoughts—sad thoughts promotes:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But joy will yet come with the morning light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though sadly now we bid good night!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4><i>Damon.</i></h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Good night!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr class="major" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[287]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="FRAGMENTS_AND_TRANSLATIONS" id="FRAGMENTS_AND_TRANSLATIONS"></a> + FRAGMENTS AND TRANSLATIONS. +</h2> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[288]</a></span></p> + +<hr class="major" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[289]</a></span></p> + + +<div class="blockquot"> +From <i>Eucharistica Oxoniensia in Caroli Regis +nostri e Scotia Reditum Gratulatoria</i> (1641). +</div> + + +<h3><a name="TO_CHARLES_THE_FIRST" id="TO_CHARLES_THE_FIRST"></a> +[TO CHARLES THE FIRST.]</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">As kings do rule like th' heavens, who dispense<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To parts remote and near their influence;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So doth our Charles move also; while he posts<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From south to north, and back to southern coasts;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like to the starry orb, which in its round<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Moves to those very points; but while 'tis bound<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For north, there is—some guess—a trembling fit<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And shivering in the part that's opposite.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What were our fears and pantings, what dire fame<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Heard we of Irish tumults, sword, and flame!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which now we think but blessings, as being sent<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Only as matter, whereupon 'twas meant,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The British thus united might express,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The strength of joinèd Powers to suppress,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or conquer foes. This is Great Britain's bliss;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The island in itself a just world is.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here no commotion shall we find or fear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But of the Court's removal, no sad tear<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[290]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Or cloudy brow, but when you leave us. Then<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Discord is loyalty professèd, when<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nations do strive, which shall the happier be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">T' enjoy your bounteous rays of majesty<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which yet you throw in undivided dart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For things divine allow no share or part.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The same kind virtue doth at once disclose<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The beauty of their thistle and our rose.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus you do mingle souls and firmly knit<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What were but join'd before; you Scotsmen fit<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Closely with us, and reuniter prove;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You fetch'd the crown before, and now their love.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p style='text-align:right; margin-right:2em;'>H. Vaughan, Ies. Col.</p> + +<hr class="major" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[291]</a></span></p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +From <i>Of the Benefit we may get by our Enemies</i>: translated from +Plutarch (1651). +</div> + +<h3><a name="HOMER_ILIAD" id="HOMER_ILIAD"></a> +1. [HOMER. ILIAD, I. 255-6.]</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sure Priam will to mirth incline,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all that are of Priam's line.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h3><a name="AESCHYLUS_SEPTEM_CONTRA_THEBES_600-1" id="AESCHYLUS_SEPTEM_CONTRA_THEBES_600-1"></a> +2. [AESCHYLUS. SEPTEM CONTRA THEBES, 600-1.]</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Feeding on fruits which in the heavens do grow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whence all divine and holy counsels flow.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h3><a name="EURIPIDES_ORESTES_251-2" id="EURIPIDES_ORESTES_251-2"></a> +3. [EURIPIDES. ORESTES, 251-2.]</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Excel then if thou canst, be not withstood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But strive and overcome the evil with good.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h3><a name="EURIPIDES_FRAGM_MLXXI" id="EURIPIDES_FRAGM_MLXXI"></a> +4. [EURIPIDES. FRAGM. MLXXI.]</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">You minister to others' wounds a cure,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But leave your own all rotten and impure.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[292]</a></span></div></div> + + +<h3><a name="EURIPIDES_CRESPHONTES_FRAGM_CCCCLV" id="EURIPIDES_CRESPHONTES_FRAGM_CCCCLV"></a> +5. [EURIPIDES. CRESPHONTES, FRAGM. CCCCLV.]</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Chance, taking from me things of highest price,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At a dear rate hath taught me to be wise.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h3><a name="INCERTIE" id="INCERTIE"></a> +6. [INCERTI.]</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">[He] Knaves' tongues and calumnies no more doth prize<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than the vain buzzing of so many flies.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h3><a name="PINDAR_FRAGM_C" id="PINDAR_FRAGM_C"></a> +7. [PINDAR. FRAGM. C.]</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">His deep, dark heart—bent to supplant—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is iron, or else adamant.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h3><a name="SOLON" id="SOLON"></a>8. [SOLON. FRAGM. XV.]</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What though they boast their riches unto us?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Those cannot say that they are virtuous.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr class="major" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[293]</a></span></p> +<div class="blockquot"> +From <i>Of the Diseases of the Mind and the Body</i>: translated from +Plutarch (1651).</div> + +<h3><a name="HOMER_ILIAD_XVII_446-7" id="HOMER_ILIAD_XVII_446-7"></a> +1. [HOMER. ILIAD, XVII. 446-7.]</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">That man for misery excell'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All creatures which the wide world held.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h3><a name="EURIPIDES_BACCHAE_1170-4" id="EURIPIDES_BACCHAE_1170-4"></a> +2. [EURIPIDES. BACCHAE, 1170-4.]</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A tender kid—see, where 'tis put—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I on the hills did slay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now dress'd and into quarters cut,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A pleasant, dainty prey.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<hr class="major" /> + +<div class="blockquot">From <i>Of the Diseases of the Mind and the Body</i>: translated from Maximus +Tyrius (1651).</div> + + +<h3><a name="ARIPHRON" id="ARIPHRON"></a>1. [ARIPHRON.]</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O health, the chief of gifts divine!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I would I might with thee and thine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Live all those days appointed mine!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[294]</a></span></div> +<div class="blockquot"> +From <i>The Mount of Olives</i> (1652). +</div> + + +<h3><a name="DEATH" id="DEATH"></a>1. [DEATH.]</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Draw near, fond man, and dress thee by this glass,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mark how thy bravery and big looks must pass<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Into corruption, rottenness and dust;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The frail supporters which betray'd thy trust.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O weigh in time thy last and loathsome state!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To purchase heav'n for tears is no hard rate.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our glory, greatness, wisdom, all we have,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If mis-employ'd, but add hell to the grave:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Only a fair redemption of evil times<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Finds life in death, and buries all our crimes.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h3><a name="HADRIANS_ADDRESS_TO_HIS_SOUL" id="HADRIANS_ADDRESS_TO_HIS_SOUL"></a> +2. [HADRIAN'S ADDRESS TO HIS SOUL.]</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My soul, my pleasant soul, and witty,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The guest and consort of my body.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Into what place now all alone<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Naked and sad wilt thou be gone?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No mirth, no wit, as heretofore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor jests wilt thou afford me more.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[295]</a></span></div></div> + + +<h3><a name="PAULINUS_CARM_APP_I_35-40" id="PAULINUS_CARM_APP_I_35-40"></a> +3. [PAULINUS. CARM. APP. I. 35-40.]</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What is't to me that spacious rivers run<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whole ages, and their streams are never done?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Those still remain: but all my fathers died,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I myself but for few days abide.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h3><a name="ANEURIN_ENGLYNION_Y_MISOEDD_III_1-4" id="ANEURIN_ENGLYNION_Y_MISOEDD_III_1-4"></a> +4. [ANEURIN. ENGLYNION Y MISOEDD, III. 1-4.]</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In March birds couple, a new birth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of herbs and flow'rs breaks through the earth;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But in the grave none stirs his head,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Long is the impris'ment of the dead.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h3><a name="INCERTID" id="INCERTID"></a>5. [INCERTI.]</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">So our decays God comforts by<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The stars' concurrent state on high.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h3><a name="JUVENAL_SATIRE_XIII_86-8" id="JUVENAL_SATIRE_XIII_86-8"></a> +6. [JUVENAL. SATIRE XIII. 86-8.]</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There are that do believe all things succeed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By chance or fortune: and that nought's decreed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By a divine, wise Will; but blindly call<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Old Time and Nature rulers over all.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[296]</a></span></div></div> + + +<h3><a name="INCERTIC" id="INCERTIC"></a>7. [INCERTI.]</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">From the first hour the heavens were made<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unto the last, when all shall fade,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Count—if thou canst—the drops of dew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The stars of heav'n and streams that flow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The falling snow, the dropping show'rs,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in the month of May, the flow'rs,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their scents and colours, and what store<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of grapes and apples Autumn bore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How many grains the Summer bears,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What leaves the wind in Winter tears;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Count all the creatures in the world,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The motes which in the air are hurl'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The hairs of beasts and mankind, and<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The shore's innumerable sand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The blades of grass, and to these last<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Add all the years which now are past,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With those whose course is yet to come,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all their minutes in one sum.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When all is done, the damned's state<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Outruns them still, and knows no date.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h3><a name="VIRGIL_GEORGICS_IV_12-138" id="VIRGIL_GEORGICS_IV_12-138"></a> +8. [VIRGIL. GEORGICS, IV. 12-138.]</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I saw beneath Tarentum's stately towers<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An old Cilician spend his peaceful hours.<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[297]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Some few bad acres in a waste, wild field,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which neither grass, nor corn, nor vines would yield,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He did possess. There—amongst thorns and weeds—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cheap herbs and coleworts, with the common seeds<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of chesboule or tame poppies, he did sow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And vervain with white lilies caused to grow.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Content he was, as are successful kings,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And late at night come home—for long work brings<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The night still home—with unbought messes laid<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On his low table he his hunger stay'd.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Roses he gather'd in the youthful Spring,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And apples in the Autumn home did bring:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And when the sad, cold Winter burst with frost<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The stones, and the still streams in ice were lost,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He would soft leaves of bear's-foot crop, and chide<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The slow west winds and ling'ring Summer-tide!<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h3><a name="VIRGIL_AENEID_III_515" id="VIRGIL_AENEID_III_515"></a> +9. [VIRGIL. AENEID, III. 515.]</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And rising at midnight the stars espied,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All posting westward in a silent glide.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h3><a name="VIRGIL_GEORGICS_II_58" id="VIRGIL_GEORGICS_II_58"></a> +10. [VIRGIL. GEORGICS, II. 58.]</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The trees we set grow slowly, and their shade<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stays for our sons, while we—the planters—fade.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr class="major" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[298]</a></span></p> +<div class="blockquot"> +From <i>Man in Glory</i>: translated from Anselm (1652). +</div> + + +<h3><a name="ANSELM" id="ANSELM"></a>1. [ANSELM.]</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Here holy Anselm lives in ev'ry page,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sits archbishop still, to vex the age.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had he foreseen—and who knows but he did?—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This fatal wrack, which deep in time lay hid,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis but just to believe, that little hand<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which clouded him, but now benights our land,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had never—like Elias—driv'n him hence,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A sad retirer for a slight offence.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For were he now, like the returning year,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Restor'd, to view these desolations here,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He would do penance for his old complaint,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And—weeping—say, that Rufus was a saint.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<hr class="major" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[299]</a></span></p> +<div class="blockquot"> +From the Epistle-Dedicatory to <i>Flores Solitudinis</i> (1654). +</div> + + +<h3><a name="BISSELLIUS" id="BISSELLIUS"></a>1. [BISSELLIUS.]</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The whole wench—how complete soe'er—was but<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A specious bait; a soft, sly, tempting slut;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A pleasing witch; a living death; a fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thriving disease; a fresh, infectious air;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A precious plague; a fury sweetly drawn;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wild fire laid up and finely dress'd in lawn.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h3><a name="AUGURELLIUS" id="AUGURELLIUS"></a>2. [AUGURELLIUS.]</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Peter, when thou this pleasant world dost see,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Believe, thou seest mere dreams and vanity,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not real things, but false, and through the air<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each-where an empty, slipp'ry scene, though fair.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The chirping birds, the fresh woods' shady boughs,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The leaves' shrill whispers, when the west wind blows,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The swift, fierce greyhounds coursing on the plains,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The flying hare, distress'd 'twixt fear and pains,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The bloomy maid decking with flow'rs her head,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The gladsome, easy youth by light love led;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And whatsoe'er here with admiring eyes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou seem'st to see, 'tis but a frail disguise<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Worn by eternal things, a passive dress<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Put on by beings that are passiveless.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr class="major" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[300]</a></span></p> +<div class="blockquot"> +From a Discourse <i>Of Temperance and Patience</i>: translated from +Nierembergius (1654).</div> + +<h3><a name="INCERTIB" id="INCERTIB"></a>1. [INCERTI.]</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The naked man too gets the field,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And often makes the armèd foe to yield.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h3><a name="LUCRETIUS_IV_1012-1020" id="LUCRETIUS_IV_1012-1020"></a> +2. [LUCRETIUS, IV. 1012-1020.]</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">[Some] struggle and groan as if by panthers torn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or lions' teeth, which makes them loudly mourn;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some others seem unto themselves to die;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some climb steep solitudes and mountains high,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From whence they seem to fall inanely down,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Panting with fear, till wak'd, and scarce their own<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They feel about them if in bed they lie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Deceiv'd with dreams, and Night's imagery.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In vain with earnest strugglings they contend<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To ease themselves: for when they stir and bend<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their greatest force to do it, even then most<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of all they faint, and in their hopes are cross'd.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor tongue, nor hand, nor foot will serve their turn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But without speech and strength within, they mourn.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[301]</a></span></div></div> + + +<h3><a name="INCERTIA" id="INCERTIA"></a>3. [INCERTI.]</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thou the nepenthe easing grief<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Art, and the mind's healing relief.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h3><a name="INCERTI9" id="INCERTI9"></a>4. [INCERTI.]</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Base man! and couldst thou think Cato alone<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wants courage to be dry? and but him, none?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Look'd I so soft? breath'd I such base desires,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not proof against this Lybic sun's weak fires?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That shame and plague on thee more justly lie!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To drink alone, when all our troops are dry.<br /></span> +<hr style="width: 45%;" /><br /> +<span class="i0">For with brave rage he flung it on the sand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the spilt draught suffic'd each thirsty band<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h3><a name="INCERTI8" id="INCERTI8"></a>5. [INCERTI.]</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">[Death keeps off]<br /></span> +<span class="i14">And will not bear the cry<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of distress'd man, nor shut his weeping eye<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h3><a name="MAXIMUS1" id="MAXIMUS1"></a>6. [MAXIMUS.]</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">It lives when kill'd, and brancheth when 'tis lopp'd.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[302]</a></span></div></div> + + +<h3><a name="MAXIMUS2" id="MAXIMUS2"></a>7. [MAXIMUS.]</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Like some fair oak, that when her boughs<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are cut by rude hands, thicker grows;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And from those wounds the iron made<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Resumes a rich and fresher shade.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h3><a name="GREGORY_NAZIANZEN" id="GREGORY_NAZIANZEN"></a> +8. [GREGORY NAZIANZEN.]</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Patience digesteth misery.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h3><a name="MARIUS_VICTOR" id="MARIUS_VICTOR"></a>9. [MARIUS VICTOR.]</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">——They fain would—if they might—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Descend to hide themselves in Hell. So light<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of foot is Vengeance; and so near to sin,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That soon as done, the actors do begin<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To fear and suffer by themselves: Death moves<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Before their eyes; sad dens and dusky groves<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They haunt, and hope—vain hope which Fear doth guide!—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That those dark shades their inward guilt can hide.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h3><a name="INCERTIG" id="INCERTIG"></a>10. [INCERTI.]</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But night and day doth his own life molest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And bears his judge and witness in his breast.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[303]</a></span></div></div> + + +<h3><a name="THEODOTUS" id="THEODOTUS"></a>11. [THEODOTUS.]</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Virtue's fair cares some people measure<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For poisonous works that hinder pleasure.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h3><a name="INCERTIH" id="INCERTIH"></a>12. [INCERTI.]</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Man should with virtue arm'd and hearten'd be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And innocently watch his enemy:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For fearless freedom, which none can control,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is gotten by a pure and upright soul.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h3><a name="INCERTIJ" id="INCERTIJ"></a>13. [INCERTI.]</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Whose guilty soul, with terrors fraught, doth frame<br /></span> +<span class="i0">New torments still, and still doth blow that flame<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which still burns him, nor sees what end can be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of his dire plagues, and fruitful penalty;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But fears them living, and fears more to die;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which makes his life a constant tragedy.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h3><a name="INCERTIK" id="INCERTIK"></a>14. [INCERTI.]</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And for life's sake to lose the crown of life.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h3><a name="INCERTIL" id="INCERTIL"></a>15. [INCERTI.]</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Nature even for herself doth lay a snare,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And handsome faces their own traitors are.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">[304]</a></span></div></div> + + +<h3><a name="MENANDER" id="MENANDER"></a>16. [MENANDER.]</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i12">True life in this is shown,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To live for all men's good, not for our own.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h3><a name="INCERTI" id="INCERTI"></a>17. [INCERTI.]</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">As Egypt's drought by Nilus is redress'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So thy wise tongue doth comfort the oppress'd.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h3><a name="INCERTIQ" id="INCERTIQ"></a>18. [INCERTI.]</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">[Like] to speedy posts, bear hence the lamp of life.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h3><a name="DIONYSIUS_LYRINENSIS" id="DIONYSIUS_LYRINENSIS"></a> +19. [DIONYSIUS LYRINENSIS.]</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">All worldly things, even while they grow, decay;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As smoke doth, by ascending, waste away.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h3><a name="INCERTIM" id="INCERTIM"></a>20. [INCERTI.]</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">To live a stranger unto life.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">[305]</a></span></div></div> + + +<hr class="major" /> + +<div class="blockquot">From a <i>Discourse of Life and Death</i>: translated from Nierembergius +(1654).</div> + + +<h3><a name="INCERTI7" id="INCERTI7"></a>1. [INCERTI.]</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Whose hissings fright all Nature's monstrous ills;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His eye darts death, more swift than poison kills.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All monsters by instinct to him give place,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They fly for life, for death lives in his face;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And he alone by Nature's hid commands<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Reigns paramount, and prince of all the sands.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h3><a name="INCERTI6" id="INCERTI6"></a>2. [INCERTI.]</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The plenteous evils of frail life fill the old:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their wasted limbs the loose skin in dry folds<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Doth hang about: their joints are numb'd, and through<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their veins, not blood, but rheums and waters flow.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their trembling bodies with a staff they stay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor do they breathe, but sadly sigh all day.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thoughts tire their hearts, to them their very mind<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is a disease; their eyes no sleep can find.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h3><a name="MIMNERMUS" id="MIMNERMUS"></a>3. [MIMNERMUS.]</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Against the virtuous man we all make head,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And hate him while he lives, but praise him dead.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">[306]</a></span></div></div> + + +<h3><a name="INCERTI5" id="INCERTI5"></a>4. [INCERTI.]</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Long life, oppress'd with many woes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Meets more, the further still it goes.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h3><a name="JUVENAL_SATIRE_X_278-286" id="JUVENAL_SATIRE_X_278-286"></a> +5. [JUVENAL. SATIRE X. 278-286.]</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What greater good had deck'd great Pompey's crown<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than death, if in his honours fully blown,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And mature glories he had died? those piles<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of huge success, loud fame, and lofty styles<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Built in his active youth, long lazy life<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Saw quite demolish'd by ambitious strife.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He lived to wear the weak and melting snow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of luckless age, where garlands seldom grow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But by repining Fate torn from the head<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which wore them once, are on another shed.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h3><a name="MENANDER_FRAGM_CXXVIII" id="MENANDER_FRAGM_CXXVIII"></a> +6. [MENANDER. FRAGM. CXXVIII.]</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Whom God doth take care for, and love,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He dies young here, to live above.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h3><a name="INCERTI4" id="INCERTI4"></a>7. [INCERTI.]</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sickness and death, you are but sluggish things,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And cannot reach a heart that hath got wings.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">[307]</a></span></div></div> + +<hr class="major" /> + +<div class="blockquot"> +From <i>Primitive Holiness, set forth in the Life of Blessed Paulinus</i> +(1654).</div> + + +<h3><a name="AUSONIUS_EPIST_XXIV_115-16" id="AUSONIUS_EPIST_XXIV_115-16"></a> +1. [AUSONIUS. EPIST. XXIV. 115-16.]</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Let me not weep to see thy ravish'd house<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All sad and silent, without lord or spouse,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all those vast dominions once thine own<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Torn 'twixt a hundred slaves to me unknown.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h3><a name="AUSONIUS_EPIST_XXIII_30-1_XXV_5-9_14_17" id="AUSONIUS_EPIST_XXIII_30-1_XXV_5-9_14_17"></a> +2. [AUSONIUS. EPIST. XXIII. 30-1; XXV. 5-9, 14, 17.]</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i5">How could that paper sent,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That luckless paper, merit thy contempt?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ev'n foe to foe—though furiously—replies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the defied his enemy defies.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Amidst the swords and wounds, there's a salute,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rocks answer man, and though hard are not mute.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nature made nothing dumb, nothing unkind:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The trees and leaves speak trembling to the wind.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If thou dost fear discoveries, and the blot<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of my love, Tanaquil shall know it not.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">[308]</a></span></div></div> + + +<h3><a name="PAULINUS_CARM_XI_1-5_X_189-92" id="PAULINUS_CARM_XI_1-5_X_189-92"></a> +3. [PAULINUS. CARM. XI. 1-5; X. 189-92.]</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Obdurate still and tongue-tied, you accuse<br /></span> +<span class="i0">—Though yours is ever vocal—my dull muse;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You blame my lazy, lurking life, and add<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I scorn your love, a calumny most sad;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then tell me, that I fear my wife, and dart<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Harsh, cutting words against my dearest heart.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Leave, learnèd father, leave this bitter course,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My studies are not turn'd unto the worse;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I am not mad, nor idle, nor deny<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your great deserts, and my debt, nor have I<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A wife like Tanaquil, as wildly you<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Object, but a Lucretia, chaste and true.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h3><a name="PAULINUS_CARM_XXXI_581-2_585-90_601-2_607-12" id="PAULINUS_CARM_XXXI_581-2_585-90_601-2_607-12"></a> +4. [PAULINUS. CARM. XXXI. 581-2, 585-90, 601-2, 607-12.]</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">This pledge of your joint love, to heaven now fled,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With honey-combs and milk of life is fed.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or with the Bethlem babes—whom Herod's rage<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Kill'd in their tender, happy, holy age—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Doth walk the groves of Paradise, and make<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Garlands, which those young martyrs from him take.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With these his eyes on the mild Lamb are fix'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A virgin-child with virgin-infants mix'd.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such is my Celsus too, who soon as given,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was taken back—on the eighth day—to heaven<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">[309]</a></span> +<span class="i0">To whom at Alcala I sadly gave<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Amongst the martyrs' tombs a little grave.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He now with yours—gone both the blessed way—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Amongst the trees of life doth smile and play;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And this one drop of our mix'd blood may be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A light for my Therasia, and for me.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h3><a name="AUSONIUS_EPIST_XXV_50_56-7_60-2" id="AUSONIUS_EPIST_XXV_50_56-7_60-2"></a> +5. [AUSONIUS. EPIST. XXV. 50, 56-7, 60-2.]</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sweet Paulinus, and is thy nature turn'd?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have I so long in vain thy absence mourn'd?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wilt thou, my glory, and great Rome's delight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Senate's prop, their oracle, and light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In Bilbilis and Calagurris dwell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Changing thy ivory-chair for a dark cell?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wilt bury there thy purple, and contemn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All the great honours of thy noble stem?<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h3><a name="PAULINUS_CARM_X_110-331" id="PAULINUS_CARM_X_110-331"></a> +6. [PAULINUS. CARM. X. 110-331.]</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Shall I believe you can make me return,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who pour your fruitless prayers when you mourn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not to your Maker? Who can hear you cry,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But to the fabled nymphs of Castaly?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You never shall by such false gods bring me<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Either to Rome, or to your company.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As for those former things you once did know,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And which you still call mine, I freely now<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Confess, I am not he, whom you knew then;<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">[310]</a></span> +<span class="i0">I have died since, and have been born again.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor dare I think my sage instructor can<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Believe it error, for redeemèd man<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To serve his great Redeemer. I grieve not<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But glory so to err. Let the wise knot<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of worldlings call me fool; I slight their noise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And hear my God approving of my choice.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Man is but glass, a building of no trust,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A moving shade, and, without Christ, mere dust.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His choice in life concerns the chooser much:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For when he dies, his good or ill—just such<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As here it was—goes with him hence, and stays<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still by him, his strict judge in the last days.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">These serious thoughts take up my soul, and I,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While yet 'tis daylight, fix my busy eye<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upon His sacred rules, life's precious sum<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who in the twilight of the world shall come<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To judge the lofty looks, and show mankind<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The diff'rence 'twixt the ill and well inclin'd.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This second coming of the world's great King<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Makes my heart tremble, and doth timely bring<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A saving care into my watchful soul,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lest in that day all vitiated and foul<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I should be found—that day, Time's utmost line,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When all shall perish but what is divine;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the great trumpet's mighty blast shall shake<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The earth's foundations, till the hard rocks quake<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And melt like piles of snow; when lightnings move<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like hail, and the white thrones are set above:<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">[311]</a></span> +<span class="i0">That day, when sent in glory by the Father,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Prince of Life His blest elect shall gather;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Millions of angels round about Him flying,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While all the kindreds of the Earth are crying;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And He enthron'd upon the clouds shall give<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His last just sentence, who must die, who live.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">This is the fear, this is the saving care<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That makes me leave false honours, and that share<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which fell to me of this frail world, lest by<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A frequent use of present pleasures I<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Should quite forget the future, and let in<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Foul atheism, or some presumptuous sin.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now by their loss I have secur'd my life,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And bought my peace ev'n with the cause of strife.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I live to Him Who gave me life and breath,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And without fear expect the hour of death.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If you like this, bid joy to my rich state,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If not, leave me to Christ at any rate.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h3><a name="PAULINUS" id="PAULINUS"></a> +7. [PAULINUS.]</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">And is the bargain thought too dear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To give for heaven our frail subsistence here?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To change our mortal with immortal homes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And purchase the bright stars with darksome stones?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Behold! my God—a rate great as His breath!—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On the sad cross bought me with bitter death,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Did put on flesh, and suffer'd for our good,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For ours—vile slaves!—the loss of His dear blood.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">[312]</a></span></div></div> + + +<h3><a name="EPITAPH_ON_MARCELLINA" id="EPITAPH_ON_MARCELLINA"></a> +8. [EPITAPH ON MARCELLINA.]</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Life, Marcellina, leaving thy fair frame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou didst contemn those tombs of costly fame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Built by thy Roman ancestors, and liest<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At Milan, where great Ambrose sleeps in Christ.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hope, the dead's life, and faith, which never faints,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Made thee rest here, that thou mayst rise with saints.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h3><a name="PAULINUS_VERSUS_APUD_EPIST_XXXII_3" id="PAULINUS_VERSUS_APUD_EPIST_XXXII_3"></a> +9. [PAULINUS. VERSUS APUD EPIST. XXXII. 3.]</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">You that to wash your flesh and souls draw near,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ponder these two examples set you here:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Great Martin shows the holy life, and white,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Paulinus to repentance doth invite;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Martin's pure, harmless life, took heaven by force,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Paulinus took it by tears and remorse;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Martin leads through victorious palms and flow'rs,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Paulinus leads you through the pools and show'rs;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You that are sinners, on Paulinus look,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You that are saints, great Martin is your book;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The first example bright and holy is,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The last, though sad and weeping, leads to bliss<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313">[313]</a></span></div></div> + + +<h3><a name="PAULINUS_VERSUS_APUD_EPIST_XXXII_5" id="PAULINUS_VERSUS_APUD_EPIST_XXXII_5"></a> +10. [PAULINUS. VERSUS APUD EPIST. XXXII. 5.]</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Here the great well-spring of wash'd souls with beams<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of living light quickens the lively streams;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Dove descends, and stirs them with her wings,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So weds these waters to the upper springs.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They straight conceive; a new birth doth proceed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From the bright streams by an immortal seed.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O the rare love of God! sinners wash'd here<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Come forth pure saints, all justified and clear.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So blest in death and life, man dies to sins,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And lives to God: sin dies, and life begins<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To be reviv'd: old Adam falls away<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the new lives, born for eternal sway.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h3><a name="PAULINUS_VERSUS_APUD_EPIST_XXXII_12" id="PAULINUS_VERSUS_APUD_EPIST_XXXII_12"></a> +11. [PAULINUS. VERSUS APUD EPIST. XXXII. 12.]</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Through pleasant green fields enter you the way<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To bliss; and well through shades and blossoms may<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The walks lead here, from whence directly lies<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The good man's path to sacred Paradise.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_314" id="Page_314">[314]</a></span></div></div> + + +<h3><a name="PAULINUS_VERSUS_APUD_EPIST_XXXII_14" id="PAULINUS_VERSUS_APUD_EPIST_XXXII_14"></a> +12. [PAULINUS. VERSUS APUD EPIST. XXXII. 14.]</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The painful cross with flowers and palms is crown'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which prove, it springs; though all in blood 'tis drown'd;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The doves above it show with one consent,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Heaven opens only to the innocent.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h3><a name="PAULINUS_CARM_XXVII_387-92" id="PAULINUS_CARM_XXVII_387-92"></a> +13. [PAULINUS. CARM. XXVII. 387-92.]</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">You see what splendour through the spacious aisle,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As if the Church were glorified, doth smile.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The ivory-wrought beams seem to the sight<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Engraven, while the carv'd roof looks curl'd and bright.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On brass hoops to the upmost vaults we tie<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The hovering lamps, which nod and tremble by<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The yielding cords; fresh oil doth still repair<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The waving flames, vex'd with the fleeting air.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h3><a name="PAULINUS_VERSUS_APUD_EPIST_XXXII_17" id="PAULINUS_VERSUS_APUD_EPIST_XXXII_17"></a> +14. [PAULINUS. VERSUS APUD EPIST. XXXII. 17.]</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The pains of Saints and Saints' rewards are twins,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sad cross, and the crown which the cross wins.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here Christ, the Prince both of the cross and crown,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Amongst fresh groves and lilies fully blown<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_315" id="Page_315">[315]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Stands, a white Lamb bearing the purple cross:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">White shows His pureness, red His blood's dear loss.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To ease His sorrows the chaste turtle sings,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And fans Him, sweating blood, with her bright wings;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While from a shining cloud the Father eyes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His Son's sad conflict with His enemies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And on His blessed head lets gently down<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Eternal glory made into a crown.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">About Him stand two flocks of diff'ring notes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One of white sheep, and one of speckled goats;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The first possess His right hand, and the last<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stand on His left; the spotted goats are cast<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All into thick, deep shades, while from His right<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The white sheep pass into a whiter light.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h3><a name="PAULINUS2" id="PAULINUS2"></a>15. [PAULINUS.]</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Those sacred days by tedious Time delay'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While the slow years' bright line about is laid,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I patiently expect, though much distrest<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By busy longing and a love-sick breast.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I wish they may outshine all other days;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or, when they come, so recompense delays<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As to outlast the summer hours' bright length;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or that fam'd day, when stopp'd by divine strength<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sun did tire the world with his long light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Doubling men's labours, and adjourning night.<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_316" id="Page_316">[316]</a></span> +<span class="i2">As the bright sky with stars, the field with flow'rs,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The years with diff'ring seasons, months and hours,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">God hath distinguishèd and mark'd, so He<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With sacred feasts did ease and beautify<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The working days: because that mixture may<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Make men—loth to be holy ev'ry day—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">After long labours, with a freer will,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Adore their Maker, and keep mindful still<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of holiness, by keeping holy days:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For otherwise they would dislike the ways<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of piety as too severe. To cast<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Old customs quite off, and from sin to fast<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is a great work. To run which way we will,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On plains is easy, not so up a hill.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Hence 'tis our good God—Who would all men bring<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Under the covert of His saving wing—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Appointed at set times His solemn feasts,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That by mean services men might at least<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Take hold of Christ as by the hem, and steal<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Help from His lowest skirts, their souls to heal.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For the first step to heaven is to live well<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All our life long, and each day to excel<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In holiness; but since that tares are found<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the best corn, and thistles will confound<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And prick my heart with vain cares, I will strive<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To weed them out on feast-days, and so thrive<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By handfuls, 'till I may full life obtain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And not be swallow'd of eternal pain.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_317" id="Page_317">[317]</a></span></div></div> + + +<h3><a name="PAULINUS_CARM_APP_I" id="PAULINUS_CARM_APP_I"></a> +16. [PAULINUS (?). CARM. APP. I.]</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Come, my true consort in my joys and care!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let this uncertain and still wasting share<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of our frail life be giv'n to God. You see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How the swift days drive hence incessantly,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the frail, drooping world—though still thought gay<a name="FNanchor_69_69" id="FNanchor_69_69"></a><a href="#Footnote_69_69" class="fnanchor">[69]</a>—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In secret, slow consumption wears away.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All that we have pass from us, and once past<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Return no more; like clouds, they seem to last,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And so delude loose, greedy minds. But where<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are now those trim deceits? to what dark sphere<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are all those false fires sunk, which once so shin'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They captivated souls, and rul'd mankind?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He that with fifty ploughs his lands did sow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will scarce be trusted for two oxen now;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His rich, loud coach, known to each crowded street,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is sold, and he quite tir'd walks on his feet.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Merchants that—like the sun—their voyage made<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From East to West, and by wholesale did trade,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are now turn'd sculler-men, or sadly sweat<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In a poor fisher's boat, with line and net.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Kingdoms and cities to a period tend;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Earth nothing hath, but what must have an end;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mankind by plagues, distempers, dearth and war,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tortures and prisons, die both near and far;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fury and hate rage in each living breast,<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_318" id="Page_318">[318]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Princes with princes, States with States contest;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An universal discord mads each land,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Peace is quite lost, the last times are at hand.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But were these days from the Last Day secure,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So that the world might for more years endure,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet we—like hirelings—should our term expect,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And on our day of death each day reflect.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For what—Therasia—doth it us avail<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That spacious streams shall flow and never fail,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That aged forests hie to tire the winds,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And flow'rs each Spring return and keep their kinds!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Those still remain: but all our fathers died,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And we ourselves but for few days abide.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">This short time then was not giv'n us in vain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To whom Time dies, in which we dying gain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But that in time eternal life should be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our care, and endless rest our industry.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And yet this task, which the rebellious deem<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Too harsh, who God's mild laws for chains esteem,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Suits with the meek and harmless heart so right<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That 'tis all ease, all comfort and delight.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"To love our God with all our strength and will;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To covet nothing; to devise no ill<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Against our neighbours; to procure or do<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nothing to others, which we would not to<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our very selves; not to revenge our wrong;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To be content with little, not to long<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For wealth and greatness; to despise or jeer<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No man, and if we be despised, to bear;<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_319" id="Page_319">[319]</a></span> +<span class="i0">To feed the hungry; to hold fast our crown;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To take from others naught; to give our own,"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">—These are His precepts: and—alas!—in these<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What is so hard, but faith can do with ease?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He that the holy prophets doth believe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And on God's words relies, words that still live<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And cannot die; that in his heart hath writ<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His Saviour's death and triumph, and doth yet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With constant care, admitting no neglect,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His second, dreadful coming still expect:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To such a liver earthy things are dead,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With Heav'n alone, and hopes of Heav'n, he's fed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He is no vassal unto worldly trash,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor that black knowledge which pretends to wash,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But doth defile: a knowledge, by which men<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With studied care lose Paradise again.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Commands and titles, the vain world's device,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With gold—the forward seed of sin and vice—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He never minds: his aim is far more high,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And stoops to nothing lower than the sky.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor grief, nor pleasures breed him any pain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He nothing fears to lose, would nothing gain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whatever hath not God, he doth detest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He lives to Christ, is dead to all the rest.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This Holy One sent hither from above<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A virgin brought forth, shadow'd by the Dove;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His skin with stripes, with wicked hands His face<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And with foul spittle soil'd and beaten was;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A crown of thorns His blessed head did wound.<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_320" id="Page_320">[320]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Nails pierc'd His hands and feet, and He fast bound<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stuck to the painful Cross, where hang'd till dead,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With a cold spear His heart's dear blood was shed.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All this for man, for bad, ungrateful man,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The true God suffer'd! not that suff'rings can<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Add to His glory aught, Who can receive<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Access from nothing, Whom none can bereave<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of His all-fulness: but the blest design<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of His sad death was to save me from mine:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He dying bore my sins, and the third day<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His early rising rais'd me from the clay.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To such great mercies what shall I prefer,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or who from loving God shall me deter?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Burn me alive, with curious, skilful pain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cut up and search each warm and breathing vein;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When all is done, death brings a quick release,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the poor mangled body sleeps in peace.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hale me to prisons, shut me up in brass,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My still free soul from thence to God shall pass.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Banish or bind me, I can be nowhere<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A stranger, nor alone; my God is there.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I fear not famine; how can he be said<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To starve who feeds upon the Living Bread?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And yet this courage springs not from my store,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Christ gave it me, Who can give much, much more<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I of myself can nothing dare or do,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He bids me fight, and makes me conquer too.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If—like great Abr'ham—I should have command<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To leave my father's house and native land,<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_321" id="Page_321">[321]</a></span> +<span class="i0">I would with joy to unknown regions run,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bearing the banner of His blessed Son.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On worldly goods I will have no design,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But use my own, as if mine were not mine;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wealth I'll not wonder at, nor greatness seek,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But choose—though laugh'd at—to be poor and meek.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In woe and wealth I'll keep the same staid mind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Grief shall not break me, nor joys make me blind:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My dearest Jesus I'll still praise, and He<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall with songs of deliv'rance compass me.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Then come, my faithful consort! join with me<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In this good fight, and my true helper be;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cheer me when sad, advise me when I stray,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let us be each the other's guide and stay;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Be your lord's guardian: give joint aid and due,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Help him when fall'n, rise, when he helpeth you,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That so we may not only one flesh be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But in one spirit and one will agree.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p> +<a name="Footnote_69_69" id="Footnote_69_69"></a> +<a href="#FNanchor_69_69"><span class="label">[69]</span></a> +The original has <i>gry</i>.</p></div> + +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_322" id="Page_322">[322]</a></span></p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +From <i>Hermetical Physic</i>: translated from Henry Nollius (1655). +</div> + +<h3><a name="HORACE_EPIST_I_1_14-5" id="HORACE_EPIST_I_1_14-5"></a> +1. [HORACE. EPIST. I. 1, 14-5.]</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Where'er my fancy calls, there I go still,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not sworn a slave to any master's will.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h3><a name="INCERTI3" id="INCERTI3"></a>2. [INCERTI.]</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There's need, betwixt his clothes, his bed and board,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of all that Earth and Sea and Air afford.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h3><a name="INCERTI2" id="INCERTI2"></a>3. [INCERTI.]</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">With restless cares they waste the night and day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To compass great estates, and get the sway.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h3><a name="JUVENAL_SATIRE_XV_160-164" id="JUVENAL_SATIRE_XV_160-164"></a> +4. [JUVENAL. SATIRE XV. 160-164.]</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i12">Whenever did, I pray,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One lion take another's life away?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or in what forest did a wild boar by<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The tusks of his own fellow wounded die?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tigers with tigers never have debate;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And bears among themselves abstain from hate<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_323" id="Page_323">[323]</a></span></div></div> + + +<h3><a name="JUVENAL_SATIRE_XV_169-171" id="JUVENAL_SATIRE_XV_169-171"></a> +5. [JUVENAL. SATIRE XV. 169-171.]</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">[Some] esteem it no point of revenge to kill,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unless they may drink up the blood they spill:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who do believe that hands, and hearts, and heads,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are but a kind of meat, etc.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h3><a name="INCERTI1" id="INCERTI1"></a>6. [INCERTI.]</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The strongest body and the best<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cannot subsist without due rest.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<hr class="major" /> + +<div class="blockquot"> +From Thomas Powell's <i>Cerbyd Fechydwiaeth</i> (1657). +</div> + +<h3><a name="THE_LORDS_PRAYER" id="THE_LORDS_PRAYER"></a> +1. [THE LORD'S PRAYER.]</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Y Pader, pan trier, Duw-tri a'i dododd<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O'i dadol ddaioni,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yn faen-gwaddan i bob gweddi,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ac athrawieth a wnaeth i ni.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p style='text-align:right; margin-right:2em;'>Ol[or] Vaughan.</p> + + +<hr class="major" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_324" id="Page_324">[324]</a></span></p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +From Thomas Powell's <i>Humane Industry</i> (1661). +</div> + +<h3><a name="CAMPION_EPIGR_I_151" id="CAMPION_EPIGR_I_151"></a> +1. [CAMPION. EPIGR. I. 151.]</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Time's-Teller wrought into a little round,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which count'st the days and nights with watchful sound;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How—when once fix'd—with busy wheels dost thou<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The twice twelve useful hours drive on and show;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And where I go, go'st with me without strife,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The monitor and ease of fleeting life.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h3><a name="GROTIUS_LIB_EPIGR_II" id="GROTIUS_LIB_EPIGR_II"></a> +2. [GROTIUS. LIB. EPIGR. II.]</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The untired strength of never-ceasing motion,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A restless rest, a toilless operation,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Heaven then had given it, when wise Nature did<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To frail and solid things one place forbid;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And parting both, made the moon's orb their bound,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Damning to various change this lower ground.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But now what Nature hath those laws transgress'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Giving to Earth a work that ne'er will rest?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though 'tis most strange, yet—great King—'tis not new:<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_325" id="Page_325">[325]</a></span> +<span class="i0">This work was seen and found before, in you.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In you, whose mind—though still calm—never sleeps,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But through your realms one constant motion keeps:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As your mind—then—was Heaven's type first, so this<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the taught anti-type of your mind is.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h3><a name="JUVENAL_SATIRE_III" id="JUVENAL_SATIRE_III"></a> +3. [JUVENAL. SATIRE III.]</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">How oft have we beheld wild beasts appear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From broken gulfs of earth, upon some part<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of sand that did not sink! How often there<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thence, did golden boughs o'er-saffron'd start!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor only saw we monsters of the wood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But I have seen sea-calves whom bears withstood;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And such a kind of beast as might be named<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A horse, but in most foul proportion framed.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h3><a name="MARTIAL_EPIGR_I_105" id="MARTIAL_EPIGR_I_105"></a> +4. [MARTIAL. EPIGR. I. 105.]</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">That the fierce pard doth at a beck<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yield to the yoke his spotted neck,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the untoward tiger bear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The whip with a submissive fear;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That stags do foam with golden bits.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the rough Libyc bear submits<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unto the ring; that a wild boar<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like that which Calydon of yore<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_326" id="Page_326">[326]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Brought forth, doth mildly put his head<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In purple muzzles to be led;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That the vast, strong-limb'd buffles draw<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The British chariots with taught awe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the elephant with courtship falls<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To any dance the negro calls:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Would not you think such sports as those<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Were shows which the gods did expose?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But these are nothing, when we see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That hares by lions hunted be, etc.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_327" id="Page_327">[327]</a></span></p> + +<hr class="major" /> + +<h2><a name="NOTES_TO_VOL_II" id="NOTES_TO_VOL_II"></a> + NOTES TO VOL. II. +</h2> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_328" id="Page_328">[328]</a></span></p> + +<hr class="major" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_329" id="Page_329">[329]</a></span></p> + +<h3>POEMS WITH THE TENTH SATIRE OF JUVENAL ENGLISHED.</h3> + +<p>Most of the poems in this volume of 1646 appear to belong to +Vaughan's sojourn as a law-student in London: that, however, +on the Priory Grove must have been written after he had +retired to Wales on the outbreak of the Civil War.</p> + + +<h4>P. <a href="#Page_5">5</a>. To my Ingenious Friend, R. W.</h4> + +<p>It is probable that this is the R. W. of the Elegy in <i>Olor +Iscanus</i> (p. 79). On the attempts to identify him, see the note +to that poem. The <i>Poems</i> of 1646 must have been published +while his fate was still unknown.</p> + +<p><i>Pints i' th' Moon or Star.</i> These are names of rooms, +rather than of inns. <i>Cf.</i> Shakespeare, 1 <i>Henry IV.</i>, ii. 4, 30, +"Anon, anon, sir! Score a pint of bastard in the Half-moon."</p> + + +<h4>P. <a href="#Page_6">6</a>. <i>Randolph.</i></h4> + +<p>The works of Randolph here referred to +are his comedy <i>The Jealous Lovers</i>, his pastoral <i>Amyntas; +or, The Impossible Dowry</i>, and the following verses <i>On the +Death of a Nightingale</i>:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Go, solitary wood, and henceforth be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Acquainted with no other harmony<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_330" id="Page_330">[330]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Than the pie's chattering, or the shrieking note<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of boding owls, and fatal raven's throat.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy sweetest chanter's dead, that warbled forth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lays that might tempests calm, and still the north,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And call down angels from their glorious sphere,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To hear her songs, and learn new anthems there.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That soul is fled, and to Elysium gone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou a poor desert left; go then and run.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beg there to want a grove, and if she please<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To sing again beneath thy shadowy trees,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The souls of happy lovers crowned with blisses<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall flock about thee, and keep time with kisses."<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h4>P. <a href="#Page_8">8</a>. Les Amours.</h4> + +<p>Lines 22-24 are misprinted in the original; they there run:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"O'er all the tomb a sudden spring:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If crimson flowers, whose drooping heads<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall curtain o'er their mournful heads:"<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h4>P. <a href="#Page_10">10</a>. To Amoret.</h4> + +<p>The Amoret of these <i>Poems</i> may or may not be the Etesia +of <i>Thalia Rediviva</i>; and she may or may not have been the +poet's first wife. <i>Cf.</i> <i>Introduction</i> (vol. i, p. xxxiii).</p> + +<p><i>To her white bosom.</i> <i>Cf.</i> <i>Hamlet</i>, ii. 2, 113, where Hamlet +addresses a letter to Ophelia, "in her excellent white bosom, +these."</p> + + +<h4>P. <a href="#Page_12">12</a>. Song.</h4> + +<p>The MS. variant readings to this and to two of the following +poems are written in pencil on a copy of the <i>Poems</i> in the +British Museum, having the press-mark 12304, a 24. There is +no indication of their author, or of the source from which they +are taken.</p> + + +<h4>P. <a href="#Page_13">13</a>. To Amoret.</h4> + +<p><i>The vast ring.</i> <i>Cf.</i> <i>Silex Scintillans</i> +(vol. i., pp. 150, 284).<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_331" id="Page_331">[331]</a></span></p> + + +<h4>P. <a href="#Page_18">18</a>. <i>A Rhapsodis.</i></h4> + +<p><i>The Globe Tavern.</i> This appears to have been near, or even +a part of, the famous theatre. There exists a forged letter of +George Peele's, in which it is mentioned as a resort of Shakespeare's, +but there is no authentic allusion to it by name earlier +than an entry in the registers of St. Saviour's, Southwark, for +1637. An "alehouse" is, however, alluded to in a ballad on +the burning of the old Globe in 1613. (Rendle and Norman, +<i>Inns of Old Southwark</i>, p. 326.)</p> + +<p><i>Tower-Wharf to Cymbeline and Lud</i>; that is, from the +extreme east to the extreme west of the City. Statues of the +mythical kings of Britain were set up in 1260 in niches on +Ludgate. They were renewed when the gate was rebuilt in +1586. It stood near the Church of St. Martin's, Ludgate.</p> + +<p><i>That made his horse a senator</i>; <i>i.e.</i> Caligula. +<i>Cf.</i> Suetonius Vit. Caligulae, 55: +"<i>Incitato equo, cuius causa pridie +circenses, ne inquietaretur, viciniae silentium per milites +indicere solebat, praeter equile marmoreum et praesepe eburneum +praeterque purpurea tegumenta ac monilia e gemmis, +domum etiam et familiam et suppellectilem dedit, quo lautius +nomine eius invitati acciperentur; consulatum quoque +traditur destinasse.</i>"</p> + +<p><i>he that ... crossed Rubicon</i>, <i>i.e.</i> Julius Cæsar.</p> + + +<h4>P. <a href="#Page_21">21</a>. To Amoret.</h4> + +<p>The third stanza is closely modelled on Donne; <i>cf.</i> Introduction +(vol. i., p. xxi). The curious reader may detect many +other traces of Donne's manner of writing in these <i>Poems</i> of +1646.</p> + + +<h4>P. <a href="#Page_23">23</a>. To Amoret Weeping.</h4> + +<p><i>Eat orphans ... patent it.</i> The ambition of a courtier +under the Stuarts was to get the guardianship of a royal +ward, or the grant of a monopoly in some article of necessity. +Dr. Grosart quotes from Tustin's <i>Observations; or, Conscience +Emblem</i> (1646): "By me, John Tustin, who hath +been plundered and spoiled by the patentees for white and grey +soap, eighteen several times, to his utter undoing."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_332" id="Page_332">[332]</a></span></p> + + +<h4>P. <a href="#Page_26">26</a>. Upon the Priory Grove, his usual Retirement.</h4> + +<p>Mr. Beeching, in the <i>Introduction</i> (vol. i., p. xxiii), states +following Dr. Grosart, that the Priory Grove was "the home of +a famous poetess of the day, Katherine Phillips, better known +as 'the Matchless Orinda.'" Vaughan was certainly a friend +of Mrs. Phillips (<i>cf.</i> pp. 100, 164, 211, with notes), whose +husband, Colonel James Phillips, lived at the Priory, Cardigan; +but she was not married until 1647.</p> + +<p>Miss Morgan points out that there is still a wood on the outskirts +of Brecon which is known as the Priory Grove. It is +near the church and remains of a Benedictine Priory on the +Honddu.</p> + + +<h4>P. <a href="#Page_28">28</a>. Juvenal's Tenth Satire Translated.</h4> + +<p>This translation has a separate title-page; +<i>cf.</i> the <i>Bibliography</i> (vol. ii., p. lvii).<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_333" id="Page_333">[333]</a></span></p> + + +<h3>OLOR ISCANUS.</h3> + + +<p>This volume, published in 1651, contains, besides the poems +here reprinted, some prose translations from Plutarch and +other writers. The separate title-pages of these are given in +the <i>Bibliography</i> (vol. ii., p. lviii): the incidental scraps of +verse in them appear on pp. 291-293 of the present volume. +The edition of 1651 has, besides the printed title-page, an +engraved title-page by the well-known engraver, who may or +may not have been a kinsman of the poet, Robert Vaughan. +It represents a swan on a river shaded by trees. The <i>Olor +Iscanus</i> was reissued with a fresh title-page in 1679.</p> + + +<h4>P. <a href="#Page_52">52</a>. Ad Posteros.</h4> + +<p>On the account of Vaughan's life here given, see the <i>Biographical +note</i> (vol. ii., p. xxx).</p> + +<p><i>Herbertus.</i> Matthew Herbert, Rector of Llangattock. +Cf. the poem to him on p. 158, with its note.</p> + +<p><i>Castae fidaeque ... parentis</i>, <i>i.e.</i>, perhaps, his mother +the Church.</p> + +<p><i>Nec manus atra fuit.</i> Dr. Grosart omitted the <i>fuit</i>, +together with the final <i>s</i> of the preceding line. In this he is +naïvely followed by Mr. J. R. Tutin, in his selection of +Vaughan's <i>Secular Poems</i>.</p> + + +<h4>P. <a href="#Page_53">53</a>. To the ... Lord Kildare Digby.</h4> + +<p>Lord Kildare Digby was the eldest son of Robert, first Baron +Digby, in the peerage of Ireland. He succeeded to the title in +1642. He was about 21 at the time of this dedication, and +died in 1661 (Dr. Grosart)<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_334" id="Page_334">[334]</a></span></p> + + +<p>The date of the dedication is 17th of December, 1647. A +volume was therefore probably prepared for publication at that +date, and afterwards, as we learn from the publisher's preface, +"condemned to obscurity," and given surreptitiously to the +world. At the same time, as Miss Morgan points out to me, +some of the poems in <i>Olor Iscanus</i> must be of later date than +1647. The death of Charles I. is apparently alluded to in the +lines <i>Ad Posteros</i>, and certainly in the "since Charles his +reign" of the <i>Invitation to Brecknock</i> (p. 74). This event +took place on January 30th, 1648/9. The <i>Epitaph upon the +Lady Elizabeth</i> (p. 102), again, cannot be earlier than her death +on September 8th, 1650.</p> + + +<h4>P. <a href="#Page_54">54</a>. The Publisher to the Reader.</h4> + +<p><i>Augustus vindex.</i> The lives of Vergil attributed to Donatus +and others relate that the poet, in his will, directed that his +unfinished <i>Aeneid</i> should be burnt. Augustus, however, interfered +and ordered its publication.</p> + + +<h4>P. <a href="#Page_57">57</a>. Commendatory Verses.</h4> + +<p>These are signed by <i>T. Powell, Oxoniensis</i>; <i>I. Rowlandson, +Oxoniensis</i>; and <i>Eugenius Philalethes, Oxoniensis</i>. Thomas +Powell, one of the Powells of Cantreff, in Breconshire, was +born in 1608. He matriculated from Jesus College on January +25th, 1627/8, took his B.A. in 1629 and his M.A. in 1632, and +became a Fellow of the College. He was Rector of Cantreff +and Vicar of Brecknock, but was ejected by the Commissioners +for the Propagation of the Gospel and went abroad. At the +Restoration he returned to Cantreff and was made D.D. +and Canon of St. David's. But for his death, on the 31st +December, 1660, he would probably have become Bishop of +Bristol. He was the author of several books of no great importance. +He appears to have been a close friend of +Vaughan, who addresses various poems to him, and contributed +others to his books. See <i>Olor Iscanus</i>, pp. 97, 159; +<i>Thalia Rediviva</i>, pp. 178, 200, 267; <i>Fragments and +Translations</i>, pp. 323-326. Powell, in return, wrote<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_335" id="Page_335">[335]</a></span> +commendatory poems to both the <i>Olor Iscanus</i> and the <i>Thalia +Rediviva</i>.</p> + +<p><i>I. Rowlandson.</i> This may have been John Rowlandson, of +Queen's College, Oxford, who matriculated the 17th October, +1634, aged 17, took his B.A. in 1636, and his M.A. in 1639. +Either he or his father, James Rowlandson, also of Queen's +College, was sequestered by the Westminster Assembly to the +vicarage of Battle, Sussex, in 1644. He left it shortly after +and "returned to his benefice from whence he was before +thence driven by the forces raised against the parliament." +(<i>See</i> Addl. MS. 15,669, f. 17). There was also another James +Rowlandson, son of James Rowlandson, D.D., Canon of +Windsor, who matriculated from Queen's College on the 9th +November, 1632, aged 17, and took his B.A. in 1637.—G. G.</p> + +<p><i>Eugenius Philalethes.</i> The author's brother, Thomas +Vaughan. See the <i>Biographical Note</i> (vol. ii., p. xxxiii).</p> + +<p>P. 39. <i>that lamentable nation</i>, <i>i.e.</i> the Scotch.</p> + + +<h4>P. <a href="#Page_61">61</a>. Olor Iscanus.</h4> + +<p><i>Ausonius.</i> The famous schoolmaster, rhetorician and courtier +of the early fourth century, was born at Bordeaux. One of his +most famous poems is the <i>Mosella</i> (Idyll X), a description of +the river and its fish.</p> + +<p><i>Castara</i>, Lucy, daughter of William Herbert, Lord Powys, +and wife of the Worcestershire poet, William Habington, who +celebrated her in his poems under that name. The <i>Castara</i> +was published in 1634.</p> + +<p><i>Sabrina</i>, the tutelar nymph of the Severn. <i>Cf.</i> the invocation +of her in Milton's "Comus."</p> + +<p><i>May the evet and the toad.</i> This passage is imitated from +W. Browne's <i>Britannia's Pastorals</i>, Bk. I., Song 2, II., 277 <i>sqq.</i>:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"May never evet nor the toad<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Within thy banks make their abode!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Taking thy journey from the sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">May'st thou ne'er happen in thy way<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_336" id="Page_336">[336]</a></span> +<span class="i0">On nitre or on brimstone mine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To spoil thy taste! this spring of thine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let it of nothing taste but earth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And salt conceived, in their birth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Be ever fresh! Let no man dare<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To spoil thy fish, make lock or ware;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But on thy margent still let dwell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Those flowers which have the sweetest smell.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And let the dust upon thy strand<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Become like Tagus' golden sand.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let as much good betide to thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As thou hast favour show'd to me."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p style='text-align:right; margin-right:2em;'>G. G.</p> + +<p><i>flames that are ... canicular. Cf. A Dialogue between +Sir Henry Wotton and Mr. Donne</i> (Poems of John Donne, +<i>Muse's Library</i>, Vol. I., p. 79):</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"I'll never dig in quarry of a heart<br /></span> +<span class="i4">To have no part,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor roast in fiery eyes, which always are<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Canicular."<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h4>P. <a href="#Page_65">65</a>. The Charnel-house.</h4> + +<p><i>Kelder</i>, a caldron; cf. J. Cleveland, <i>The King's Disguise</i>:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"The sun wears midnight; day is beetle-brow'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And lightning is in kelder of a cloud."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p><i>A second fiat's care.</i> The allusion is to <i>Genesis</i> i. 3: "And God +said, Let there be light (in the Vulgate, <i>Fiat lux</i>), and there was +light"; <i>cf.</i> Donne, <i>The Storm</i> (<i>Muses' Library</i>, II. 4):</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Since all forms uniform deformity<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Doth cover; so that we, except God say<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Another <i>Fiat</i>, shall have no more day."<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h4>P. <a href="#Page_70">70</a>. To his Friend ——.</h4> + +<p>Miss Morgan thinks that the "friend" of this poem, whose +name is shown by the first line to have been James, may +perhaps be identified with the James Howell of the <i>Epistolae +Ho-Elianae</i>. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_337" id="Page_337">[337]</a></span> +Howell had Vaughans amongst his cousins and +correspondents, but these appear to have been of the Golden +Grove family.</p> + + +<h4>P. <a href="#Page_73">73</a>. To his retired Friend—an Invitation to Brecknock.</h4> + +<p><i>her foul, polluted walls.</i> Miss Morgan quotes a statement +from Grose's <i>Antiquities</i> to the effect that the walls of Brecknock +were pulled down by the inhabitants during the Civil +War in order to avoid having to support a garrison or stand a +siege.</p> + +<p><i>the Greek</i>, <i>i.e.</i> Hercules when in love with Omphale.</p> + +<p><i>Domitian-like</i>: <i>Cf.</i> Suetonius, <i>Vita Domitiani</i>, 3: +"<i>Inter initia principatus cotidie secretum sibi horarum sumere +solebat, nec quicquam amplius quam muscas captare ac stilo +praeacuto configere.</i>"</p> + +<p><i>Since Charles his reign.</i> This poem must date from after +the execution of Charles I., on January 30, 1648/9. It would +appear therefore that Vaughan was living in Brecknock and +not at Newton about the time that the <i>Olor Iscanus</i> was +published.</p> + + +<h4>P. <a href="#Page_77">77</a>. Monsieur Gombauld.</h4> + +<p>The writer referred to is John Ogier de Gombauld (1567-1666). +His prose tale of <i>Endymion</i> was translated by Richard +Hurst in 1637. <i>Ismena</i> and <i>Diophania</i> who was metamorphosed +into a myrtle, are characters in the story. <i>Periardes</i> +is a hill in Armenia whence the Euphrates takes its course.</p> + + +<h4>P. <a href="#Page_79">79</a>. An Elegy on the Death of Mr. R. W., slain +in the late unfortunate differences at Routon +Heath, near Chester.</h4> + +<p>The battle of Routon, or Rowton, Heath took place on +September 24, 1645. The Royalist forces, under Charles I. and +Sir Marmaduke Langdale, advancing to raise the siege of +Chester, were met and routed by the Parliamentarians under +Poyntz. The contemporary pamphlets give a long list of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_338" id="Page_338">[338]</a></span> +prisoners taken at Routon Heath, but name hardly any of +those slain. It is therefore difficult to say who R. W., +evidently a dear friend of Vaughan's, may have been. He +appears to have been missing for a year before he was finally +given up. From lines 25-27 we learn that he was a young +man of only twenty. The most likely suggestion for his identification +seems to me that of Mr. C. H. Firth, who points out +to me that the name of one Roger Wood occurs in the list of +Catholics who fell in the King's service as having been slain at +Chester. Miss Southall (<i>Songs of Siluria</i>, 1890, p. 124) +suggests that he may have been either Richard Williams, +a nephew of Sir Henry Williams, of Gwernyfed, who died +unmarried, or else a son of Richard Winter, of Llangoed. +He might also, I think, have been one of Vaughan's wife's +family, the Wises, and possibly also a Walbeoffe. A reference +to the Walbeoffe pedigree in the note to p. 189 will show that +there was a Robert Walbeoffe, brother of C. W. Miss Morgan +thinks that he is a generation too old, and that the unnamed +son of C. W., who, according to his tombstone, did not survive +him, may have been a Robert, and the R. W. in question. +On the question whether Vaughan was himself present at +Routon Heath, <i>see</i> the <i>Biographical Note</i> (vol. ii., p. xxviii).</p> + + +<h4>P. <a href="#Page_83">83</a>. Upon a Cloak lent him by Mr. J. Ridsley.</h4> + +<p>I do not know who Mr. Ridsley was. On the references to +Vaughan's "juggling fate of soldiery" in this poem, <i>see</i> the +<i>Biographical Note</i> (vol. ii., p. xxviii).</p> + +<p><i>craggy Biston, and the fatal Dee.</i> Chester stands, of +course, on the Dee, which is "fatal" as the scene of disasters +to the Royalist cause. Dr. Grosart explains Biston as "Bishton +(or Bishopstone) in Monmouthshire," and adds, "'Craggie +Biston' refers, no doubt, to certain caves there. The Poet's +school-boy rambles from Llangattock doubtless included +Bishton." I think that Biston is clearly Beeston Castle, one +of the outlying defences of Chester, which played a considerable +part in the siege. It surrendered on November 5, 1645, +and the small garrison was permitted to march to Denbigh<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_339" id="Page_339">[339]</a></span> +(J. R. Phillips, <i>The Civil War in Wales and the Marshes</i>, +vol. i., p. 343).</p> + +<p><i>Micro-cosmography</i>, the world represented on a small scale in +man. Vaughan means that he had as many lines on him as a map.</p> + +<p><i>Speed's Old Britons.</i> John Speed (1555-1629) published his +<i>History of Great Britain</i> in 1614.</p> + +<p><i>King Harry's Chapel at Westminster</i>, with its tombs, was +already one of the sights of London.</p> + +<p><i>Brownist.</i> The Brownists were the religious followers of +Robert Browne (c. 1550-c. 1633); they were afterwards known +as Independents or Congregationalists.</p> + + +<h4>P. <a href="#Page_86">86</a>. Upon Mr. Fletcher's Plays.</h4> + +<p>The first folio edition of Beaumont and Fletcher's <i>Comedies +and Tragedies</i> was published in 1647. Vaughan's lines are +not, however, amongst the commendatory verses there given.</p> + +<p><i>Field's or Swansted's overthrow.</i> Nathaniel Field and +Eliard Swanston, who appears to be meant by Swansted, were +well-known actors. They were both members of the King's +Company about 1633.</p> + + +<h4>P. <a href="#Page_90">90</a>. Upon the Poems and Plays of the ever-memorable +Mr. William Cartwright.</h4> + +<p>This was printed, together with verses by Tho. Vaughan +and many other writers, in William Cartwright's <i>Comedies, +Tragi-comedies, with other Poems</i>, 1651.</p> + + +<h4>P. <a href="#Page_94">94</a>. An Elegy on the Death of Mr. R. Hall, slain +at Pontefract, 1648.</h4> + +<p>Miss Southall thinks that the subject of this elegy may have +been a son of Richard Hall, of High Meadow, in the Forest of +Dean, co. Gloucester. These Halls were connected with the +Winters, a Breconshire family. Mr. C. H. Firth ingeniously +suggests to me that for R. Hall we should read R. Hall[ifax], +and points out that a Robert Hallyfax was one of the garrison +at the first siege of Pontefract in 1645. He may have been at +the second siege also. (R. Holmes, <i>Sieges of Pontefract</i>, p. 20.) +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_340" id="Page_340">[340]</a></span> +</p> + +<h4>P. <a href="#Page_97">97</a>. To my learned Friend, Mr. T. Powell, upon +his Translation of Malvezzi's "Christian Politician."</h4> + +<p>The book referred to is <i>The Pourtract of the Politicke +Christian-Favourite</i>. By Marquesse Virgilio Malvezzi, 1647. +This is a translation of <i>Il Ritratto del Privato Politico Christiano</i>, +published at Bologna in 1635. It does not contain +Vaughan's verses, and no translator's name is given. The +preface of another translation from Malvezzi, the <i>Stoa +Triumphans</i> (1651), is, however, signed "T. P."</p> + + +<h4>P. <a href="#Page_99">99</a>. To my worthy Friend, Master T. Lewes.</h4> + +<p>Some of the lines in this poem are borrowed from Horace's +verses, <i>Ad Thaliarcham</i> (Book I., Ode 9):</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Vides, ut alta stet nive candida<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Soracte, nec iam sustineant onus<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sylvae laborantes, geluque<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Flumina constiterint acuto?<br /></span> +<span class="i0" style="letter-spacing:2em;">········<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Quid sit futurum eras, fuge quaerere;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Quam sors dierum cunque debit; lucro<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Appone."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p style='text-align:right; margin-right:2em;'>G. G.</p> + +<p>Dr. Grosart thinks that T. Lewes was "probably of Maes-mawr, +opposite Newton, on the south side of the Usk." Miss +Southall identifies him with Thomas Lewis, incumbent in 1635 +of Llanfigan, near Llansantffread. He was expelled from his +living, but returned to it at the Restoration.</p> + + +<h4>P. <a href="#Page_100">100</a>. To the most excellently accomplished Mrs. K. Philips.</h4> + +<p>Katherine Philips, by birth Katherine Fowler, became the +wife in 1647 of Colonel James Philips, of the Priory, Cardigan. +She was a wit and poetess, and well-known to a large +circle of friends as "the matchless Orinda." Each member of +her coterie had a similar fantastic pseudonym, and it is possible +that this may account for the Etesia and Timander, the Fida<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_341" id="Page_341">[341]</a></span> +and Lysimachus, of Vaughan's poems. The poems of Orinda +were surreptitiously published in 1664, and in an authorised +version in 1667. They include her poem on Vaughan, afterwards +prefixed to <i>Thalia Rediviva</i> (cf. p. 169), but are not +accompanied by the present verses nor by those to her editor +in <i>Thalia Rediviva</i> (p. 211).</p> + +<p><i>A Persian votary</i>—<i>i.e.</i>, a Parsee, or fire-worshipper.</p> + + +<h4>P. <a href="#Page_102">102</a>. An Epitaph upon the Lady Elizabeth, Second +Daughter to his late Majesty.</h4> + +<p>Elizabeth, second daughter of Charles I., was born in 1635. +She suffered from ill-health and grief after her father's execution, +and died at Carisbrooke on September 8, 1650. This +poem, therefore, like others in the volume, must be of later +date than the dedication.</p> + + +<h4>P. <a href="#Page_104">104</a>. To Sir William Davenant, upon his Gondibert.</h4> + +<p>Davenant's <i>Gondibert</i> was first published in 1651. It does +not contain Vaughan's verses.</p> + +<p><i>thy aged sire.</i> Is this an allusion to the story that Davenant +was in reality the son of William Shakespeare?</p> + +<p><i>Birtha</i>, the heroine of <i>Gondibert</i>.</p> + + +<h4>P. <a href="#Page_119">119</a>. Cupido [Cruci Affixus].</h4> + +<p>Another translation of Ausonius' poems was published by +Thomas Stanley in 1649. There is nothing in the original +corresponding to the last four lines of Vaughan's translation.</p> + +<p>Ll. 89-94. The Latin is:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">"Se quisque absolvere gestit,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Transferat ut proprias aliena in crimina culpas."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Vaughan's simile is borrowed from Donne's <i>Fourth Elegy</i> +(<i>Muses' Library</i>, I., 107):</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">"as a thief at bar is questioned there,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By all the men that have been robb'd that year."<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_342" id="Page_342">[342]</a></span></div></div> + + +<h4>P. <a href="#Page_125">125</a>. Translations from Boethius.</h4> + +<p>These translations are from the <i>De Consolatione Philosophiae</i>, +a medley of prose and verse. Vaughan has translated +all the verse in the first two books except the Metrum 3 of +Book I. and Metrum 6 of Book II. The headings of Metra 7 +and 8 of Book II. are given in error in <i>Olor Iscanus</i> as +Metra 6 and 7. Some further translations from Books III. and +IV. will be found in <i>Thalia Rediviva</i>, pp. 224-235.</p> + + +<h4>P. <a href="#Page_144">144</a>. Translations from Casimirus.</h4> + +<p>These translations are from the Polish poet Mathias Casimirus +Sarbievius, or Sarbiewski (1595-1640). His Latin <i>Lyrics</i> +and <i>Epodes</i>, modelled on Horace, were published in 1625-1631. +Sarbiewski was a Jesuit, and a complete edition of his poems +was published by the Jesuits in 1892.</p> + + +<h4>P. <a href="#Page_158">158</a>. Venerabili viro, praeceptori suo olim et +semper colendissimo Magistro Mathaeo Herbert.</h4> + +<p>Matthew Herbert was Rector of Llangattock, and apparently +acted as tutor to the young Vaughans. He is mentioned in +the lines <i>Ad Posteros</i> (p. 51). Thomas Vaughan also has +two sets of Latin verses to him (Grosart, II., 349), and dedicated +to him his <i>Man-Mouse taken in a Trap</i> (1650). On July 19, +1655, he petitioned for the discharge of the sequestration on his +rectory, which had been sequestered for the delinquency of the +Earl of Worcester (<i>Cal. Proc. Ctee. for Compositions</i>, p. 1713). +He died in 1660.</p> + + +<h4>P. <a href="#Page_159">159</a>. Praestantissimo viro Thomae Poëllo in +suum de Elementis Opticæ Libellum.</h4> + +<p>The <i>Elementa Opticae</i> appeared in 1649. It has no name +on the title-page, but the preface is signed "T. P.," and +dated 1649. It contains the present prefatory verses, together +with some others, also in Latin, by Eugenius Philalethes +(Thomas Vaughan).<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_343" id="Page_343">[343]</a></span></p> + + +<h3>THALIA REDIVIVA.</h3> + + +<p>This volume, published in 1578, at a late date in Henry +Vaughan's life, twenty-three years after the second part of +<i>Silex Scintillans</i>, must have been written, at least in part, +much earlier. The poem on <i>The King Disguised</i>, for instance, +goes back to 1646. At the end of the volume, with a +separate title-page (<i>cf.</i> <i>Bibliography</i>), come the Verse Remains +of the poet's brother, Thomas Vaughan. This is the rarest of +Vaughan's collections of poems. The copy once in Mr. Corser's +collection, and now in the British Museum, was believed to be +unique. It was used both by Lyte and Dr. Grosart. But +Miss Morgan has come across two other copies, one in Mr. +Locker-Lampson's library at Rowfant, the other in that of Mr. +Joseph, at Brecon.</p> + + +<h4>P. <a href="#Page_163">163</a>. The Epistle-Dedicatory.</h4> + +<p>Henry Somerset, third Marquis of Worcester, was created +Duke of Beaufort in 1682. He was a distant kinsman of +Vaughan's, whose great-great-grandfather, William Vaughan +of Tretower, married Frances Somerset, granddaughter of +Henry, Earl of Worcester. He was a firm adherent of the +Stuarts, and refused to take the oath of allegiance to +William III. (Dr. Grosart).</p> + + +<h4>P. <a href="#Page_164">164</a>. Commendatory Verses.</h4> + +<p>These are signed by <i>Orinda</i>; <i>Tho. Powell, D.D.</i>; <i>N. W., +Ies. Coll., Oxon.</i>; <i>I. W., A.M. Oxon.</i></p> + +<p>On Orinda, <i>cf.</i> the note to p. 100, and on Dr. Powell, that to P. 57.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_344" id="Page_344">[344]</a></span></p> + +<p>Mr. Firth suggests that N. W., of Jesus, probably a young +man, who imitates Cowley's <i>Pindarics</i>, and does not claim any +personal acquaintance with Vaughan, may be N[athaniel] +W[illiams], son of Thomas Williams, of Swansea, who matriculated +in 1672, or N[icholas] W[adham], of Rhydodyn, +Carmarthen, who matriculated in 1669.</p> + +<p>I. W., also an Oxford man, is probably the writer of the +prefaces to the Marquis of Worcester and to the Reader, which +are signed respectively J. W. and I. W. Mr. Firth suggests +that he may be J[ohn] W[illiams], son of Sir Henry Williams +of Gwernevet, Brecon, who matriculated at Brasenose in 1642. +I have thought that he might be Vaughan's cousin, the second +John Walbeoffe (<i>cf.</i> p. 189, <i>note</i>), who is mentioned in Thomas +Vaughan's diary (<i>cf.</i> <i>Biographical Note</i>, vol. ii., p. xxxviii), +but there is no proof that Walbeoffe was an Oxford man. +Perhaps he is the friend James to whom a poem in <i>Olor +Iscanus</i> is addressed (p. 70).</p> + + +<h4>P. <a href="#Page_178">178</a>. To his Learned Friend and loyal Fellow-prisoner, +Thomas Powel of Cant[reff], Doctor of Divinity.</h4> + +<p>On Dr. Powell, <i>cf.</i> note to p. 57. Vaughan's reason for +calling him a "fellow-prisoner" is discussed in the <i>Biographical +Note</i> (vol. ii., p. xxxii).</p> + + +<h4>P. <a href="#Page_181">181</a>. The King Disguised.</h4> + +<p>John Cleveland's poem, <i>The King's Disguise</i>, here referred +to, was first published as a pamphlet on January 21, 1646. It +appears in Cleveland's <i>Works</i> (1687). The disguising was on +the occasion of Charles the First's flight, on April 27, 1646, +from Oxford to the Scottish camp, of which Dr. Gardiner +writes (<i>History of the Civil War</i>, Ch. xli): "At three in +the morning of the 27th, Charles, disguised as a servant, with +his beard and hair closely trimmed, passed over Magdalen +Bridge in apparent attendance upon Ashburnham and Hudson."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_345" id="Page_345">[345]</a></span></p> + + +<h4>P. <a href="#Page_187">187</a>. To Mr. M. L., upon his Reduction of the Psalms into Method.</h4> + +<p>Dr. Grosart identifies M. L. with Matthew Locke, of whom +Roger North says, in his <i>Memoirs of Music</i> (4to, 1846, p. 96): +"He set most of the Psalms to music in parts, for the use of +some vertuoso ladyes in the city." Locke's setting of the +<i>Psalms</i> exists only in MS. A copy was in the library of Dr. +E. F. Rimbault, who thinks that the author assisted Playford +in his <i>Whole Book of Psalms</i> (1677). In 1677 he died.</p> + + +<h4>P. <a href="#Page_189">189</a>. To the pious Memory of C[harles] W[albeoffe] Esquire.</h4> + +<p>Charles Walbeoffe was a man of considerable importance in +Brecknockshire. His name occurs several times in State +papers of the period. A petition of his concerning a ward is +dated October 12, 1640. (<i>Cal. S. P. Dom.</i>, Car. I., 470, 113). +He was High Sheriff in 1648 (Harl. MS. 2,289, f. 174), and a +fragment of a warrant signed by him on April 17 of that year +to Thomas Vaughan, treasurer of the county, for the monthly +assessment, is in Harl. MS. 6,831, f. 13. As we might perhaps +gather from Vaughan's poem, he does not seem to have taken +an active part in the Civil War. He did not, like some +other members of his family, sign the <i>Declaration</i> of Brecknock +for the Parliament on November 23, 1645 (J. R. Phillips, +<i>Civil War in Wales and the Marches</i>, ii. 284). And he +seems to have joined the Royalist rising in Wales of 1648. +Information was laid on February 10, 1649, that he "was +Commissioner of Array and Association, raised men and money, +subscribed warrants to raise men against the Parliament's +generals, and sat as J.P. in the court at Brecon when the +friends of Parliament were prosecuted" (<i>Cal. Proc. Ctee. for +Advance of Money</i>, p. 1017). Afterwards he was reconciled, +sat on the local Committee for Compositions, and again got +into trouble with the authorities. On May 14, 1652, the +Brecon Committee wrote to the Central Committee that, being +one of the late Committee, he would not account for sums in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_346" id="Page_346">[346]</a></span> +his hands. He was fined £20. (<i>Cal. Proc. Ctee. for Compositions</i>, +p. 578.)</p> + +<p>Miss Morgan has copied the inscription on his tombstone in +Llanhamlach Church.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p style='text-align:center;'>[Arms of Walbeoffe.]</p> + +<p>"Here lieth the body of Charles Walbeoffe, Esqre., who +departed this life the 13th day of September, 1653, and was +married to Mary, one of the daughters of Sir Thomas Aubrey +of Llantryddid, in the county of Glamorgan, Knt., by whom +he had issue two sonnes, of whom only Charles surviveth."</p> +</div> + +<p>Charles Walbeoffe the younger died in 1668, and was +succeeded by his cousin John. "This gentleman," says Jones +(<i>Hist. of Brecknock</i>, ii., 482), "being of a gay and extravagant +turn, left the estate, much encumbered, to his son Charles, +and soon after his death it was foreclosed and afterwards sold."</p> + +<p>This John Walbeoffe is mentioned in Thomas Vaughan's +<i>Diary</i> (<i>cf.</i> vol. ii., p. xxxviii). He may be the writer of the +preface to <i>Thalia Rediviva</i> (<i>cf.</i> p. 164, <i>note</i>).</p> + +<p>It is possible that the R. W. of another of Vaughan's Elegies +may also have been a Walbeoffe. <i>Cf.</i> p. 79, <i>note</i>.</p> + +<p>Dr. Grosart was unable to identify the initials C. W. The Walbeoffes, or +Walbieffes, of Llanhamlach, the next village to Llansantfread, were +among the most important of the <i>Advenae</i>, or Norman settlers of +Brecknockshire. They were related, as the following table shows, to the +Vaughans of Tretower. The following extract from the genealogy of the +Walbeoffes of Llanhamlach is compiled from Harl. MS. 2,289. f. 136<i>b</i>; +Jones, <i>History of Brecknockshire</i>, ii., 484; Miss G. E. F. Morgan, in +<i>Brecon County Times</i> for May 13, 1887. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_347" id="Page_347">[347]</a></span></p> + +<p class='center'> +<img src='images/pedigree3.png' + alt='Genealogy of the Walboeffes of Llanhamlach' + title='Genealogy of the Walboeffes of Llanhamlach' +/> +</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_348" id="Page_348">[348]</a></span></p> + +<h4>P. <a href="#Page_193">193</a>. In Zodiacum Marcelli Palingenii.</h4> + +<p>Marcellus Palingenius, or Petro Angelo Manzoli, wrote his +didactic and satirical poem, the <i>Zodiacus Vitae</i>, about 1535. +It was translated into English by Barnabee Googe in 1560-1565. +The latest edition of the original is that by C. C. Weise +(1832). As we may gather from Vaughan's lines, Manzoli was +an earnest student of occult lore. <i>Cf.</i> Gustave Reynier, <i>De +Marcelli Palingenii Stellatae Poctae Zodiaco Vitae</i> (1893).</p> + + +<h4>P. <a href="#Page_195">195</a>. To Lysimachus.</h4> + +<p><i>Bevis ... Arundel ... Morglay</i>. The allusion is to +the <i>Romance of Sir Bevis of Hampton</i> (ed. E. Kölbing, +E. E. T. S., 1885). Arundel was Sir Bevis' horse, and Morglay his sword.</p> + + +<h4>P. <a href="#Page_197">197</a>. On Sir Thomas Bodley's Library.</h4> + +<p>If Vaughan was not himself an Oxford man (<i>Biog. Note</i>, +vol. ii., p. xxvi), he may have been in Oxford with the King's +troops at the end of August, 1645 (<i>Biog. Note</i>, vol. ii., p. xxxi).</p> + +<p><i>Walsam</i>, Walsingham, in Norfolk, famous for the rich +shrine of Our Lady of Walsingham, to which many offerings were made.</p> + + +<h4>P. <a href="#Page_200">200</a>. The Importunate Fortune.</h4> + +<p>I. 105. <i>My purse, as Randolph's was.</i> The allusion is to +Randolph's <i>A Parley with his Empty Purse</i>, which begins:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Purse, who'll not know you have a poet's been,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When he shall look and find no gold herein?"<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h4>P. <a href="#Page_204">204</a>. To I. Morgan, of Whitehall, Esq.</h4> + +<p>Whitehall appears to be an Anglicised form of Wenallt, more +properly Whitehill. John Morgan, or Morgans, of Wenallt, in +Llandetty, was a kinsman of Vaughan's, as the following table +(from Harl. MS., 2,289, f. 39) shows: +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_349" id="Page_349">[349]</a></span> +</p> +<p class="center"> +<img src='images/pedigree4.png' + alt='Pedigree of John Morgan' + title='Pedigree of John Morgan' /> +</p> + +<h4>P. <a href="#Page_211">211</a>. To the Editor of the Matchless Orinda.</h4> + +<p><i>cf.</i> p. 100, <i>note</i>. These lines do not appear in either the 1664 +or the 1667 edition of Orinda's poems.</p> + + +<h4>P. <a href="#Page_213">213</a>. Upon Sudden News of the Much Lamented +Death of Judge Trevers.</h4> + +<p>"This was probably Sir Thomas Trevor, youngest son of +John Trevor, Esq., of Trevallyn, co. Denbigh, by Mary, +daughter of Sir George Bruges, of London. He was born +6th July, 1586. He was made one of the Barons of the +Exchequer 12th May, 1625; and was one of the six judges who +refused to accept the new commission offered them by the +ruling powers under the Commonwealth. He died 21st +December, 1656, and is buried at Lemington-Hastang, in +Warwickshire." (Dr. Grosart.)</p> + + +<h4>P. <a href="#Page_214">214</a>. To Etesia (for Timander) The First Sight.</h4> + +<p>I do not think we need look for anything autobiographical in +this and the following poems written to Etesia. They are +written "for Timander," that is, either to serve the suit of a +friend, or as copies of verses with no personal reference at all. +The names Etesia and Timander smack of Orinda's poetic circle.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_350" id="Page_350">[350]</a></span></p> + + +<h4>P. <a href="#Page_224">224</a>. Translations from Severinus.</h4> + +<p>Dr. Grosart hunted out an obscure Neapolitan, Marcus +Aurelius Severino, and ascribed to him the originals of these +translations. They are of course from the <i>De Consolatione +Philosophiae</i> of Anicius Manlius Severinus Boethius, and are a +continuation of the pieces already printed in <i>Olor Iscanus</i> +(pp. 125-143).</p> + + +<h4>P. <a href="#Page_245">245</a>. Pious Thoughts and Ejaculations.</h4> + +<p>These are much in the vein of <i>Silex Scintillans</i>. They +probably belong to various dates later than 1655, when the +second part of that collection appeared. <i>The Nativity</i> +(p. 259) is dated 1656, and <i>The True Christmas</i> (p. 261) was +apparently written after the Restoration.</p> + + +<h4>P. <a href="#Page_261">261</a>. The True Christmas.</h4> + +<p>Vaughan was no Puritan; <i>cf.</i> his lines on <i>Christ's Nativity</i> +(vol. i., p. 107)—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Alas, my God! Thy birth now here<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Must not be numbered in the year,"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>but he was not much in sympathy with the ideals of the Restoration either; +<i>cf.</i> the passage on "our unjust ways" in <i>Daphnis</i> (p. 284).</p> + + +<h4>P. <a href="#Page_267">267</a>. De Salmone.</h4> + +<p>On Thomas Powell, <i>cf.</i> p. 57, note.</p> + + +<h4>P. <a href="#Page_272">272</a>. The Bee.</h4> + +<p><i>Hilarion's servant, the sage crow.</i> There seems to be some +confusion between Hilarion, an obscure fourth-century Abbot, +and Paul the Hermit, of whom it is related in his <i>Life by +S. Jerome</i> that for sixty years he was daily provided with half +a loaf of bread by a crow.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_351" id="Page_351">[351]</a></span></p> + + +<h4>P. <a href="#Page_278">278</a>. Daphnis.</h4> + +<p>The subject of the Eclogue appears to be Vaughan's brother +Thomas, who died 27th February, 1666. On him <i>see</i> the +<i>Biographical Note</i> (vol. ii., p. xxxiii).</p> + +<p><i>true black Moors</i>; an allusion, perhaps, to Thomas +Vaughan's controversy with Henry More.</p> + +<p><i>Old Amphion</i>; perhaps Matthew Herbert, on whom see note to p. 158.</p> + +<p><i>The Isis and the prouder Thames.</i> Thomas Vaughan was +buried at Albury, near Oxford.</p> + +<p><i>Noble Murray.</i> Thomas Vaughan's patron, himself a poet +and alchemist, Sir Robert Murray, Secretary of State for +Scotland. His poems have been collected by the Hunterian Club.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_352" id="Page_352">[352]</a></span></p> + + +<h3>FRAGMENTS AND TRANSLATIONS.</h3> + + +<p>The larger number of the verses in this section are translated +quotations scattered through Vaughan's prose-pamphlets. +Dr. Grosart identified some of the originals; I have added a +few others; but the larger number remain obscure and are +hardly worth spending much labour upon. The title-pages of +the pamphlets will be found in the <i>Bibliography</i> (vol. ii., p. lvii).</p> + + +<h4>P. <a href="#Page_289">289</a>. From Eucharistica Oxoniensia.</h4> + +<p>I have already, in the <i>Biographical Note</i> (vol. ii., p. xxviii), +given reasons for doubting whether this poem is by the Silurist. +It was first printed as his by Dr. Grosart. Charles the First was +in Scotland, trying to settle his differences with the Scots, +during the closing months of 1641.</p> + + +<h4>P. <a href="#Page_291">291</a>. Translations from Plutarch and Maximus Tyrius.</h4> + +<p>These, together with a translation of Guevara's <i>De vitae +rusticae laudibus</i>, were appended to the <i>Olor Iscanus</i>. Vaughan +did not translate directly from the Greek, but from a Latin +version published in 1613-14 amongst some tracts by John +Reynolds, Lecturer in Greek at, and afterwards President of +Corpus Christi College, Oxford.</p> + + +<h4>P. <a href="#Page_294">294</a>. From the Mount of Olives.</h4> + +<p>A volume of Devotions published by Vaughan in 1652. The +preface, dated 1st October, 1651, is addressed to Sir Charles +Egerton, Knight, and in it Vaughan speaks of "that near<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_353" id="Page_353">[353]</a></span> +relation by which my dearest friend lays claim to your person." +It is impossible to say who is the "dearest friend" referred to. +The <i>Flores Solitudinis</i> (1654) is also dedicated to Sir Charles +Egerton. He was probably of Staffordshire. Dr. Grosart +(II. xxxiii) states that in Hanbury Church, co. Stafford, is a +monument <i>Caroli Egertoni Equitis Aurati</i>, who died 1662. +Perhaps therefore he was connected with Vaughan's wife's +family, the Wises of Staffordshire.</p> + + +<h4>P. <a href="#Page_298">298</a>. From Man in Glory.</h4> + +<p>This translation from a work attributed to St. Anselm and +published as his in 1639 is appended to the Mount of Olives.</p> + +<p>In the original lines 5, 6, are printed in error after lines 7, 8.</p> + + +<h4>P. <a href="#Page_299">299</a>. From Flores Solitudinis.</h4> + +<p>In 1654 Vaughan published a volume containing (1) translations +of two discourses by Eusebius Nierembergius, (2) a +translation of Eucherius, <i>De Contemptu Mundi</i>, (3) an original +life of S. Paulinus, Bishop of Nola. These were poems +"collected in his sickness and retirement." The Epistle-dedicatory +to Sir Charles Egerton is dated 1653, and that to +the reader which precedes the translations from Nierembergius +on 17th April, 1652.</p> + +<p><i>Bissellius.</i> John Bissel a Jesuit, (1601-1677), wrote <i>Deliciae +Aetatis</i>, <i>Argonauticon Americanorum</i>, etc. (Grosart).</p> + +<p><i>Augurellius.</i> Johannes Aurelius Augurellius of Rimini +(1454-1537), wrote <i>Carmina</i>, <i>Chrysopoeia</i>, <i>Geronticon</i>, etc. +(Grosart).</p> + + +<h4>P. <a href="#Page_307">307</a>. From Primitive Holiness.</h4> + +<p>This original life of S. Paulinus of Nola, by far the most +striking of Vaughan's prose works, contains a number of poems, +pieced together by Vaughan from lines in Paulinus' own poems +and in those of Ausonius addressed to him. The edition used +by Vaughan seems to have been that published by Rosweyd at +Antwerp in 1622. I have traced the sources of the poems so far +as I can in the edition published by W. de Hartel in the <i>Corpus</i> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_354" id="Page_354">[354]</a></span> +<i>Scriptorum Ecclesiasticorum Latinorum</i> (vols. xxix, xxx 1894).</p> + + +<h4>P. <a href="#Page_322">322</a>. From Hermetical Physic.</h4> + +<p>A translation from the <i>Naturae Sanctuarium! quod est +Physica Hermetica</i> (1619) of the alchemist Henry Nollius, +published by Vaughan in 1655.</p> + + +<h4>P. <a href="#Page_323">323</a>. From Cerbyd Fechydwiaeth.</h4> + +<p>This tract is bound up with the Brit. Mus. copy of [Thomas +Powell's] <i>Quadriga Salutis</i> (1657), of which it appears to be a +Welsh translation. The verses, to which nothing corresponds +in the English version, are signed Ol[or] Vaughan (<i>cf.</i> Olor +Iscanus). Professor Palgrave (<i>Y Cymrodor</i>, 1890-1) translates +them as follows: "The Lord's Prayer, when looked into (we +see), the Trinity of His Fatherly goodness has given it as a +foundation-stone of all prayer, and has made it for our +instruction in doctrine." He adds that this Englyn occurs with +others written in an eighteenth-century hand on the fly-leaf of +a MS. of Welsh poetry by Iago ab Duwi.</p> + + +<h4>P. <a href="#Page_324">324</a>. From Humane Industry.</h4> + +<p>On Thomas Powell <i>cf.</i> p. 57, note. The first three of +these translations are marked H. V. in the margin; of the +fourth Powell says, "The translation of Mr. Hen. Vaughan, +Silurist, whose excellent Poems are published." Many other +translations are scattered through the book, but there is +nothing to connect them with Vaughan. +</p> + + +<hr class="major" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_355" id="Page_355">[355]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="LIST_OF_FIRST_LINES" id="LIST_OF_FIRST_LINES"></a> +LIST OF FIRST LINES.</h2> + +<table summary='Index of first lines'> +<tr><td> </td><td style='width:2.5em;'>Vol.</td><td style='width:2.5em;'>page</td></tr> + +<tr><td>A grove there grows, round with the sea confin'd,</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_239'>239</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>A king and no king! Is he gone from us,</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_181'>181</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>A tender kid—see, where 'tis put—</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_293'>293</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>A ward, and still in bonds, one day</td><td align='right'>i.</td><td align='right'>19</td></tr> + +<tr><td>A wit most worthy in tried gold to shine,</td><td align='right'>i.</td><td align='right'>2</td></tr> + +<tr><td>Accept, dread Lord, the poor oblation;</td><td align='right'>i.</td><td align='right'>92</td></tr> + +<tr><td>Accipe prærapido salmonem in gurgite captum,</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_267'>267</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>Against the virtuous man we all make head,</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_305'>305</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>Ah! He is fled!</td><td align='right'>i.</td><td align='right'>40</td></tr> + +<tr><td>Ah! what time wilt Thou come? when shall that cry</td><td align='right'>i.</td><td align='right'>123</td></tr> + +<tr><td>All sorts of men, who live on Earth,</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_235'>235</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>All worldly things, even while they grow, decay</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_304'>304</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>Almighty Spirit! Thou that by</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_144'>144</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>Amyntas go, thou art undone</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_12'>12</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>And do they so? have they a sense</td><td align='right'>i.</td><td align='right'>87</td></tr> + +<tr><td>And for life's sake to lose the crown of life.</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_303'>303</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>And is the bargain thought too dear</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_311'>311</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>And rising at midnight the stars espied</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_297'>297</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>And will not bear the cry</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_301'>301</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>As Egypt's drought by Nilus is redress'd</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_304'>304</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>As kings do rule like th' heavens, who dispense</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_289'>289</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>As Time one day by me did pass,</td><td align='right'>i.</td><td align='right'>234</td></tr> + +<tr><td>As travellers, when the twilight's come</td><td align='right'>i.</td><td align='right'>146</td></tr> + +<tr><td>Ask, lover, e'er thou diest; let one poor breath +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_356" id="Page_356">[356]</a></span> +</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_11'>11</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>Awake, glad heart! get up and sing!</td><td align='right'>i.</td><td align='right'>105</td></tr> + +<tr><td>Base man! and couldst thou think Cato alone</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_301'>301</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>Be dumb, coarse measures, jar no more; to me</td><td align='right'>i.</td><td align='right'>195</td></tr> + +<tr><td>Be still, black parasites,</td><td align='right'>i.</td><td align='right'>187</td></tr> + +<tr><td>Bless me! what damps are here! how stiff an air!</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_65'>65</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>Blessed, unhappy city! dearly lov'd,</td><td align='right'>i.</td><td align='right'>218</td></tr> + +<tr><td>Blessings as rich and fragrant crown your heads</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_92'>92</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>Blest be the God of harmony and love!</td><td align='right'>i.</td><td align='right'>76</td></tr> + +<tr><td>Blest infant bud, whose blossom-life</td><td align='right'>i.</td><td align='right'>120</td></tr> + +<tr><td>Boast not, proud Golgotha, that thou canst show</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_197'>197</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>Bright and blest beam! whose strong projection,</td><td align='right'>i.</td><td align='right'>121</td></tr> + +<tr><td>Bright books! the perspectives to our weak sights:</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_245'>245</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>Bright Queen of Heaven! God's Virgin Spouse!</td><td align='right'>i.</td><td align='right'>225</td></tr> + +<tr><td>Bright shadows of true rest! some shoots of bliss;</td><td align='right'>i.</td><td align='right'>114</td></tr> + +<tr><td>But night and day doth his own life molest,</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_302'>302</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>Can any tell me what it is? Can you</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_268'>268</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>Chance taking from me things of highest price</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_292'>292</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>Come, come! what do I here?</td><td align='right'>i.</td><td align='right'>61</td></tr> + +<tr><td>Come, drop your branches, strew the way</td><td align='right'>i.</td><td align='right'>216</td></tr> + +<tr><td>Come, my heart! come, my head,</td><td align='right'>i.</td><td align='right'>52</td></tr> + +<tr><td>Come, my true consort in my joys and care!</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_317'>317</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>Come sapless blossom, creep not still on earth,</td><td align='right'>i.</td><td align='right'>166</td></tr> + +<tr><td>Curtain'd with clouds in a dark night</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_132'>132</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>Darkness, and stars i' th' mid-day! They invite</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_18'>18</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>Dear, beauteous saint! more white than day</td><td align='right'>i.</td><td align='right'>227</td></tr> + +<tr><td>Dear friend, sit down, and bear awhile this shade</td><td align='right'>i.</td><td align='right'>193</td></tr> + +<tr><td>Dear friend! whose holy, ever-living lines</td><td align='right'>i.</td><td align='right'>91</td></tr> + +<tr><td>Dearest! if you those fair eyes—wond'ring—stick</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_115'>115</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>Death and darkness, get you packing,</td><td align='right'>i.</td><td align='right'>133</td></tr> + +<tr><td>Diminuat ne sera dies præsentis honorem</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_51'>51</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>Draw near, fond man, and dress thee by this glass,</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_294'>294</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>Dust and clay,</td><td align='right'>i.</td><td align='right'>180</td></tr> + +<tr><td>Early, while yet the dark was gay +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_357" id="Page_357">[357]</a></span> +</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_255'>255</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>Eternal God! Maker of all</td><td align='right'>i.</td><td align='right'>285</td></tr> + +<tr><td>Et sic in cithara, sic in dulcedine vitæ</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_266'>266</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>Excel then if thou canst, be not withstood,</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_291'>291</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>Fair and young light! my guide to holy</td><td align='right'>i.</td><td align='right'>236</td></tr> + +<tr><td>Fair order'd lights—whose motion without noise</td><td align='right'>i.</td><td align='right'>155</td></tr> + +<tr><td>Fair Prince of Light! Light's living well!</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_249'>249</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>Fair, shining mountains of my pilgrimage</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_247'>247</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>Fair, solitary path! whose blessed shades</td><td align='right'>i.</td><td align='right'>256</td></tr> + +<tr><td>Fair vessel of our daily light, whose proud</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_257'>257</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>Fairly design'd! to charm our civil rage</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_171'>171</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>False life! a foil and no more, when</td><td align='right'>i.</td><td align='right'>282</td></tr> + +<tr><td>Fancy and I, last evening, walk'd,</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_15'>15</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>Farewell! I go to sleep; but when</td><td align='right'>i.</td><td align='right'>73</td></tr> + +<tr><td>Farewell thou true and tried reflection</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_276'>276</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>Farewell, you everlasting hills! I'm cast</td><td align='right'>i.</td><td align='right'>43</td></tr> + +<tr><td>Father of lights! what sunny seed,</td><td align='right'>i.</td><td align='right'>189</td></tr> + +<tr><td>Feeding on fruits which in the heavens do grow,</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_291'>291</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>Flaccus, not so: that worldly he</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_152'>152</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>Fool that I was! to believe blood</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_209'>209</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>For shame desist, why shouldst thou seek my fall?</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_200'>200</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>Fortune—when with rash hands she quite turmoils</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_134'>134</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>Fresh fields and woods! the Earth's fair face</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_252'>252</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>From fruitful beds and flow'ry borders,</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_272'>272</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>From the first hour the heavens were made</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_296'>296</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>Go catch the phœnix, and then bring</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_217'>217</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>Go, go, quaint follies, sugar'd sin,</td><td align='right'>i.</td><td align='right'>113</td></tr> + +<tr><td>Go, if you must! but stay—and know</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_222'>222</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>Had I adored the multitude and thence</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_169'>169</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>Hail, sacred shades! cool, leafy house!</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_26'>26</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>Happy is he, that with fix'd eyes</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_224'>224</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>Happy that first white age! when we</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_138'>138</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>Happy those early days, when I +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_358" id="Page_358">[358]</a></span> +</td><td align='right'>i.</td><td align='right'>59</td></tr> + +<tr><td>Have I so long in vain thy absence mourn'd?</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_309'>309</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>He that thirsts for glory's prize,</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_140'>140</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>Here holy Anselm lives in ev'ry page,</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_298'>298</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>Here, take again thy sackcloth! and thank heav'n</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_83'>83</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>Here the great well-spring of wash'd souls, with beams</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_313'>313</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>His deep, dark heart—bent to supplant—</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_292'>292</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>Hither thou com'st: the busy wind all night</td><td align='right'>i.</td><td align='right'>207</td></tr> + +<tr><td>How could that paper sent,</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_307'>307</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>How is man parcell'd out! how ev'ry hour</td><td align='right'>i.</td><td align='right'>139</td></tr> + +<tr><td>How kind is Heav'n to man! if here</td><td align='right'>i.</td><td align='right'>107</td></tr> + +<tr><td>How oft have we beheld wild beasts appear</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_325'>325</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>How rich, O Lord, how fresh Thy visits are!</td><td align='right'>i.</td><td align='right'>105</td></tr> + +<tr><td>How shrill are silent tears! when sin got head</td><td align='right'>i.</td><td align='right'>124</td></tr> + +<tr><td>I am confirm'd, and so much wing is given</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_79'>79</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>I call'd it once my sloth: in such an age</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_58'>58</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>I cannot reach it; and my striving eye</td><td align='right'>i.</td><td align='right'>249</td></tr> + +<tr><td>I did but see thee! and how vain it is</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_90'>90</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>I have consider'd it; and find</td><td align='right'>i.</td><td align='right'>90</td></tr> + +<tr><td>I have it now:</td><td align='right'>i.</td><td align='right'>238</td></tr> + +<tr><td>I knew it would be thus! and my just fears</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_94'>94</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>I knew thee not, nor durst attendance strive</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_87'>87</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>I saw beneath Tarentum's stately towers</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_296'>296</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>I saw Eternity the other night</td><td align='right'>i.</td><td align='right'>150</td></tr> + +<tr><td>I see the Temple in thy pillar rear'd;</td><td align='right'>i.</td><td align='right'>261</td></tr> + +<tr><td>I see the use: and know my blood</td><td align='right'>i.</td><td align='right'>69</td></tr> + +<tr><td>I've read thy soul's fair nightpiece, and have seen</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_77'>77</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>I walk'd the other day, to spend my hour,</td><td align='right'>i.</td><td align='right'>171</td></tr> + +<tr><td>I whose first year flourished with youthful verse,</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_125'>125</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>I wonder, James, through the whole history</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_70'>70</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>I write not here, as if thy last in store</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_59'>59</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>I wrote it down. But one that saw</td><td align='right'>i.</td><td align='right'>264</td></tr> + +<tr><td>If Amoret, that glorious eye,</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_13'>13</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>"If any have an ear,"</td><td align='right'>i.</td><td align='right'>242</td></tr> + +<tr><td>If I were dead, and in my place</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_16'>16</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>If old tradition hath not fail'd, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_359" id="Page_359">[359]</a></span> +</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_233'>233</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>If sever'd friends by sympathy can join,</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_178'>178</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>If this world's friends might see but once</td><td align='right'>i.</td><td align='right'>232</td></tr> + +<tr><td>If weeping eyes could wash away</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_151'>151</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>If with an open, bounteous hand</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_135'>135</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>In all the parts of earth, from farthest West,</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_28'>28</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>In March birds couple, a new birth</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_295'>295</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>In those bless'd fields of everlasting air</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_119'>119</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>Isca parens florum, placido qui spumeus ore</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_157'>157</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>It is perform'd! and thy great name doth run</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_193'>193</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>It lives when kill'd, and brancheth when 'tis lopp'd</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_301'>301</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>It would less vex distressèd man</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_145'>145</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>Jesus, my life! how shall I truly love Thee?</td><td align='right'>i.</td><td align='right'>200</td></tr> + +<tr><td>Joy of my life while left me here!</td><td align='right'>i.</td><td align='right'>67</td></tr> + +<tr><td>Knave's tongues and calumnies no more doth prize</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_292'>292</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>King of comforts! King of Life!</td><td align='right'>i.</td><td align='right'>127</td></tr> + +<tr><td>King of mercy, King of love,</td><td align='right'>i.</td><td align='right'>174</td></tr> + +<tr><td>Learning and Law, your day is done,</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_213'>213</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>Leave Amoret, melt not away so fast</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_23'>23</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>Let me not weep to see thy ravish'd house</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_307'>307</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>Let not thy youth and false delights</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_146'>146</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>Life, Marcellina, leaving thy fair frame,</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_312'>312</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>Like some fair oak, that when her boughs</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_302'>302</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>[Like] to speedy posts, bear hence the lamp of life</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_304'>304</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>Long life, oppress'd with many woes,</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_306'>306</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>Long since great wits have left the stage</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_211'>211</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>Lord, bind me up, and let me lie</td><td align='right'>i.</td><td align='right'>161</td></tr> + +<tr><td>Lord Jesus! with what sweetness and delights,</td><td align='right'>i.</td><td align='right'>177</td></tr> + +<tr><td>Lord, since Thou didst in this vile clay</td><td align='right'>i.</td><td align='right'>116</td></tr> + +<tr><td>Lord! what a busy restless thing</td><td align='right'>i.</td><td align='right'>48</td></tr> + +<tr><td>Lord, when Thou didst on Sinai pitch,</td><td align='right'>i.</td><td align='right'>148</td></tr> + +<tr><td>Lord, when Thou didst Thyself undress,</td><td align='right'>i.</td><td align='right'>51</td></tr> + +<tr><td>Lord, with what courage, and delight +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_360" id="Page_360">[360]</a></span> +</td><td align='right'>i.</td><td align='right'>80</td></tr> + +<tr><td>Love, the world's life! What a sad death</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_223'>223</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>Man should with virtue arm'd and hearten'd be</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_303'>303</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>Mark, when the evening's cooler wings</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_21'>21</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>Most happy man! who in his own sweet fields</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_236'>236</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>My dear, Almighty Lord! why dost Thou weep?</td><td align='right'>i.</td><td align='right'>220</td></tr> + +<tr><td>My God and King! to Thee</td><td align='right'>i.</td><td align='right'>259</td></tr> + +<tr><td>My God, how gracious art Thou! I had slipt</td><td align='right'>i.</td><td align='right'>89</td></tr> + +<tr><td>My God! Thou that didst die for me,</td><td align='right'>i.</td><td align='right'>13</td></tr> + +<tr><td>My God, when I walk in those groves</td><td align='right'>i.</td><td align='right'>30</td></tr> + +<tr><td>My soul, my pleasant soul, and witty,</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_294'>294</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>My soul, there is a country</td><td align='right'>i.</td><td align='right'>83</td></tr> + +<tr><td>Nature even for herself doth lay a snare,</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_303'>303</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>Nimble sigh on thy warm wings,</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_10'>10</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>Nothing on earth, nothing at all</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_149'>149</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>Now I have seen her; and by Cupid</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_206'>206</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>Now that the public sorrow doth subside</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_189'>189</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>O book! Life's guide! how shall we part;</td><td align='right'>i.</td><td align='right'>287</td></tr> + +<tr><td>O come, and welcome! come, refine!</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_251'>251</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>O come away,</td><td align='right'>i.</td><td align='right'>274</td></tr> + +<tr><td>O day of life, of light, of love!</td><td align='right'>i.</td><td align='right'>267</td></tr> + +<tr><td>O do not go! Thou know'st I'll die!</td><td align='right'>i.</td><td align='right'>214</td></tr> + +<tr><td>O dulcis luctus, risuque potentior omni!</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_221'>221</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>O health, the chief of gifts divine!</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_293'>293</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>O holy, blessed, glorious Three,</td><td align='right'>i.</td><td align='right'>201</td></tr> + +<tr><td>O in what haste, with clouds and night</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_126'>126</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>O joys! infinite sweetness! with what flowers</td><td align='right'>i.</td><td align='right'>71</td></tr> + +<tr><td>O knit me, that am crumbled dust! the heap</td><td align='right'>i.</td><td align='right'>46</td></tr> + +<tr><td>O my chief good!</td><td align='right'>i.</td><td align='right'>84</td></tr> + +<tr><td>O quæ frondosæ per amœna cubilia silvæ</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_160'>160</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>O, subtle Love! thy peace is war;</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_220'>220</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>O tell me whence that joy doth spring</td><td align='right'>i.</td><td align='right'>284</td></tr> + +<tr><td>O the new world's new-quick'ning Sun! +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_361" id="Page_361">[361]</a></span> +</td><td align='right'>i.</td><td align='right'>289</td></tr> + +<tr><td>O Thou great builder of this starry frame,</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_129'>129</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>O Thou that lovest a pure and whiten'd soul;</td><td align='right'>i.</td><td align='right'>130</td></tr> + +<tr><td>O Thou! the first-fruits of the dead,</td><td align='right'>i.</td><td align='right'>78</td></tr> + +<tr><td>O Thou who didst deny to me</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_263'>263</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>O Thy bright looks! Thy glance of love</td><td align='right'>i.</td><td align='right'>197</td></tr> + +<tr><td>O when my God, my Glory, brings</td><td align='right'>i.</td><td align='right'>260</td></tr> + +<tr><td>Obdurate still and tongue-tied, you accuse</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_308'>308</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>Oft have I seen, when that renewing breath</td><td align='right'>i.</td><td align='right'>25</td></tr> + +<tr><td>Patience digesteth misery</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_302'>302</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>Peace? and to all the world? Sure One,</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_259'>259</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>Peace, peace! I blush to hear thee; when thou art</td><td align='right'>i.</td><td align='right'>108</td></tr> + +<tr><td>Peace, peace! I know 'twas brave;</td><td align='right'>i.</td><td align='right'>65</td></tr> + +<tr><td>Peace, peace! it is not so. Thou dost miscall</td><td align='right'>i.</td><td align='right'>137</td></tr> + +<tr><td>Peter, when thou this pleasant world dost see,</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_299'>299</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>Praying! and to be married! It was rare,</td><td align='right'>i.</td><td align='right'>37</td></tr> + +<tr><td>Quid celebras auratam undam, et combusta pyropis</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_265'>265</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>Quite spent with thoughts, I left my cell, and lay</td><td align='right'>i.</td><td align='right'>57</td></tr> + +<tr><td>Quod vixi, Mathæe dedit pater, hæc tamen olim</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_158'>158</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>Sacred and secret hand!</td><td align='right'>i.</td><td align='right'>223</td></tr> + +<tr><td>Sad, purple well! whose bubbling eye</td><td align='right'>i.</td><td align='right'>254</td></tr> + +<tr><td>Saw not, Lysimachus, last day, when we</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_195'>195</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>Say, witty fair one, from what sphere</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_100'>100</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>See what thou wert! by what Platonic round</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_175'>175</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>See you that beauteous queen, which no age tames?</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_219'>219</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>Sees not my friend, what a deep snow</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_99'>99</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>Shall I believe you can make me return,</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_306'>306</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>Shall I complain, or not? or shall I mask</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_112'>112</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>Sickness and death, you are but sluggish things,</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_309'>309</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>Silence and stealth of days! 'Tis now,</td><td align='right'>i.</td><td align='right'>74</td></tr> + +<tr><td>Since dying for me, Thou didst crave no more</td><td align='right'>i.</td><td align='right'>278</td></tr> + +<tr><td>Since I in storms us'd most to be,</td><td align='right'>i.</td><td align='right'>283</td></tr> + +<tr><td>Since in a land not barren still, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_362" id="Page_362">[362]</a></span> +</td><td align='right'>i.</td><td align='right'>145</td></tr> + +<tr><td>Since last we met, thou and thy horse—my dear—</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_73'>73</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>Sion's true, glorious God! on Thee</td><td align='right'>i.</td><td align='right'>269</td></tr> + +<tr><td>So from our cold, rude world, which all things tires,</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_204'>204</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>So our decays God comforts by</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_295'>295</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>So, stick up ivy and the bays,</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_261'>261</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>Some esteem it no point of revenge to kill</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_323'>323</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>Some struggle and groan as if by panthers torn,</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_300'>300</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>Still young and fine! but what is still in view</td><td align='right'>i.</td><td align='right'>230</td></tr> + +<tr><td>Sure, it was so. Man in those early days</td><td align='right'>i.</td><td align='right'>101</td></tr> + +<tr><td>Sure Priam will to mirth incline,</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_291'>291</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>Sure, there's a tie of bodies! and as they</td><td align='right'>i.</td><td align='right'>82</td></tr> + +<tr><td>Sure thou didst flourish once! and many springs,</td><td align='right'>i.</td><td align='right'>209</td></tr> + +<tr><td>Sweet, harmless live[r]s!—on whose leisure</td><td align='right'>i.</td><td align='right'>158</td></tr> + +<tr><td>Sweet, sacred hill! on whose fair brow</td><td align='right'>i.</td><td align='right'>49</td></tr> + +<tr><td>Tentasti, fateor, sine vulnere sæpius et me</td><td align='right'>i.</td><td align='right'>liv</td></tr> + +<tr><td>Thanks, mighty Silver! I rejoice to see</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_68'>68</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>That man for misery excell'd</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_293'>293</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>That the fierce pard doth at a beck</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_325'>325</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>That the world in constant force</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_142'>142</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>The lucky World show'd me one day</td><td align='right'>i.</td><td align='right'>226</td></tr> + +<tr><td>The naked man too gets the field,</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_300'>300</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>The painful cross with flowers and palms is crown'd,</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_314'>314</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>The pains of Saints and Saints' rewards are twins,</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_314'>314</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>The plenteous evils of frail life fill the old:</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_305'>305</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>The strongest body and the best</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_323'>323</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>The trees we set grow slowly, and their shade</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_297'>297</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>The untired strength of never-ceasing motion,</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_324'>324</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>The whole wench—how complete soe'er—was but</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_298'>298</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>There are that do believe all things succeed</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_295'>295</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>There's need, betwixt his clothes, his bed and board</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_322'>322</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>They are all gone into the world of light!</td><td align='right'>i.</td><td align='right'>182</td></tr> + +<tr><td>—They fain would—if they might—</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_302'>302</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>This is the day—blithe god of sack—which we,</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_106'>106</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>This pledge of your joint love, to heaven now fled,</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_308'>308</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>Those sacred days by tedious Time delay'd, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_363" id="Page_363">[363]</a></span> +</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_315'>315</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>Though since thy first sad entrance by</td><td align='right'>i.</td><td align='right'>272</td></tr> + +<tr><td>Thou that know'st for whom I mourn,</td><td align='right'>i.</td><td align='right'>54</td></tr> + +<tr><td>Thou the nepenthe easing grief</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_301'>301</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>Thou who didst place me in this busy street</td><td align='right'>i.</td><td align='right'>244</td></tr> + +<tr><td>Thou, who dost flow and flourish here below,</td><td align='right'>i.</td><td align='right'>198</td></tr> + +<tr><td>Thou, whose sad heart, and weeping head lies low</td><td align='right'>i.</td><td align='right'>133</td></tr> + +<tr><td>Through pleasant green fields enter you the way</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_313'>313</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>Through that pure virgin shrine,</td><td align='right'>i.</td><td align='right'>251</td></tr> + +<tr><td>Time's teller wrought into a little round,</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_324'>324</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>'Tis a sad Land, that in one day</td><td align='right'>i.</td><td align='right'>23</td></tr> + +<tr><td>'Tis dead night round about: Horror doth creep</td><td align='right'>i.</td><td align='right'>41</td></tr> + +<tr><td>'Tis madness sure; and I am in the fit,</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_184'>184</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>'Tis not rich furniture and gems,</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_147'>147</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>'Tis now clear day: I see a rose</td><td align='right'>i.</td><td align='right'>33</td></tr> + +<tr><td>'Tis true, I am undone: yet, ere I die,</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_17'>17</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>To live a stranger unto life</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_304'>304</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>True life in this is shown,</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_304'>304</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>'Twas so; I saw thy birth. That drowsy lake</td><td align='right'>i.</td><td align='right'>45</td></tr> + +<tr><td>Tyrant, farewell! this heart, the prize</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_8'>8</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>Unfold! Unfold! Take in His light,</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_254'>254</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>Up, O my soul! and bless the Lord! O God,</td><td align='right'>i.</td><td align='right'>202</td></tr> + +<tr><td>Up to those bright and gladsome hills,</td><td align='right'>i.</td><td align='right'>136</td></tr> + +<tr><td>Vain, sinful art! who first did fit</td><td align='right'>i.</td><td align='right'>219</td></tr> + +<tr><td>Vain wits and eyes</td><td align='right'>i.</td><td align='right'>16</td></tr> + +<tr><td>Virtue's fair cares some people measure</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_303'>303</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>Vivaces oculorum ignes et lumina dia</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_159'>159</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>Waters above! eternal springs!</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_248'>248</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>Weary of this same clay and straw, I laid</td><td align='right'>i.</td><td align='right'>153</td></tr> + +<tr><td>We thank you, worthy Sir, that now we see</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_97'>97</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>Weighing the steadfastness and state</td><td align='right'>i.</td><td align='right'>169</td></tr> + +<tr><td>Welcome, dear book, soul's joy and food! The feast</td><td align='right'>i.</td><td align='right'>103</td></tr> + +<tr><td>Welcome sweet and sacred feast! welcome life! +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_364" id="Page_364">[364]</a></span> +</td><td align='right'>i.</td><td align='right'>134</td></tr> + +<tr><td>Welcome, white day! a thousand suns,</td><td align='right'>i.</td><td align='right'>184</td></tr> + +<tr><td>Well, we are rescued! and by thy rare pen</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_104'>104</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>What can the man do that succeeds the king?</td><td align='right'>i.</td><td align='right'>247</td></tr> + +<tr><td>What clouds, Menalcas, do oppress thy brow,</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_278'>278</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>What fix'd affections, and lov'd laws</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_228'>228</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>What happy, secret fountain,</td><td align='right'>i.</td><td align='right'>241</td></tr> + +<tr><td>What greater good hath decked great Pompey's crown</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_306'>306</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>What is't to me that spacious rivers run</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_295'>295</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>What planet rul'd your birth? what witty star?</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_57'>57</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>What smiling star in that fair night,</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_214'>214</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>What though they boast their riches unto us?</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_292'>292</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>Whatever 'tis, whose beauty here below</td><td align='right'>i.</td><td align='right'>191</td></tr> + +<tr><td>When Daphne's lover here first wore the bays,</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_61'>61</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>When first I saw True Beauty, and Thy joys</td><td align='right'>i.</td><td align='right'>168</td></tr> + +<tr><td>When first Thou didst even from the grave</td><td align='right'>i.</td><td align='right'>110</td></tr> + +<tr><td>When first thy eyes unveil, give thy soul leave</td><td align='right'>i.</td><td align='right'>94</td></tr> + +<tr><td>When Jove a heav'n of small glass did behold,</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_238'>238</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>When the Crab's fierce constellation</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_131'>131</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>When the fair year</td><td align='right'>i.</td><td align='right'>212</td></tr> + +<tr><td>When the sun from his rosy bed</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_136'>136</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>When through the North a fire shall rush</td><td align='right'>i.</td><td align='right'>28</td></tr> + +<tr><td>When to my eyes,</td><td align='right'>i.</td><td align='right'>63</td></tr> + +<tr><td>When we are dead, and now, no more</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_5'>5</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>When with these eyes, clos'd now by Thee,</td><td align='right'>i.</td><td align='right'>271</td></tr> + +<tr><td>Whenever did, I pray,</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_322'>322</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>Where reverend bards of old have sate</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_172'>172</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>Where'er my fancy calls, there I go still,</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_322'>322</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>Whither, O whither didst thou fly</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_250'>250</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>Who wisely would for his retreat</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_137'>137</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>Who would unclouded see the laws</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_230'>230</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>Who on you throne of azure sits,</td><td align='right'>i.</td><td align='right'>142</td></tr> + +<tr><td>Whom God doth take care for, and love,</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_306'>306</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>Whose calm soul in a settled state</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_128'>128</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>Whose guilty soul, with terrors fraught, doth frame,</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_303'>303</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>Whose hissings fright all Nature's monstrous ills,</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_305'>305</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>With restless cares they waste the night and day,</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_322'>322</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>With what deep murmurs, through Time's silent stealth, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_365" id="Page_365">[365]</a></span> +</td><td align='right'>i.</td><td align='right'>280</td></tr> + +<tr><td>Y Pader, pan trier, Duw-tri a'i dododd</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_323'>323</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>You have consum'd my language, and my pen,</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_109'>109</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>You have oblig'd the patriarch: and 'tis known</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_187'>187</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>You minister to others' wounds a cure,</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_291'>291</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>You see what splendour through the spacious aisle,</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_314'>314</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>You that to wash your flesh and souls draw near,</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_312'>312</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td>Youth, beauty, virtue, innocence</td><td align='right'>ii.</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_102'>102</a></td></tr> +</table> + + +<p class='center' +style='padding-top:0.5em;border-top:solid 2px black;padding-bottom:2em;'> +Woodfall & Kinder, Printers, 70-76, Long Acre., W.C.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK POEMS OF HENRY VAUGHAN, SILURIST, VOLUME II***</p> +<p>******* This file should be named 28375-h.txt or 28375-h.zip *******</p> +<p>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:<br /> +<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/8/3/7/28375">http://www.gutenberg.org/2/8/3/7/28375</a></p> +<p>Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed.</p> + +<p>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 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