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Since it equally doth flee,
In thy undiscover'd nest
HOW helt servant, and my friend ?
'n happiness compar'd to thee?
Nay, and, if from a Deity
Some do but their youth allow me,
THE SWALLOW. TOOLISH prater, what doft thou With thy tuneless fcrenade? wd': had been had Tereus made Thee as dumb as Philomel; Tacre his knife liad done but well.
E ! ff y things,
Had I the power of creation,
Poets or lovers let them be, As I have of generation,
'Tis neither love nor poesy Where I the matter must obey,
Can arm, against death's smallest dart, And cannot work plate out of clay,
The poet's head or lover's heart ; My creatures should be all like thee,
But when their life, in its decline, "Tis thou shouldst their idea be:
Touches th' inevitable line, They, like thee, should throughly hate
All the world 's mortal to them then, Business, honour, title, ftate ;
And wine is aconite to men ; Other wealth they should not know,
Nay, in death's hand, the grape-stone proves
As strong as thunder is in Jove's.
V E R S E S
TAKEN OUT OF A GREEK ODE, WRITTEN BY All thcir life should gilded be
MR. MASTERS, OF NEW-COLLEGE IN OXFORD. With mirth, and wit, and gaiety ; Well remembering and applying The necessity of dying.
And inspirations but of wind; Their cheerful heads should always wear
Take up thy lute, and to it bind All that crowns the flowery year :
Loud and everlasting strings; They Should always laugh, and fing,
And on them play, and to them fing, And dance, and strike tn' harnionious fring;
'The happy mournful stories, Verse should from their tongue so flow,
The lamentable glories, As if it in the mouth did grow,
Of the great crucified King, As swiftly answering their command,
Mountainous heap of wonders! which doft rise As tunes obey the artful hand.
Till earth thou joinett with the skies! And whilst I do thus discover
Too large at bottom, and at top too high, Th’ingredients of a happy lover,
To be half seen by mortal eye! 'Tis, my Anacreon! for thy fake
How shall I grasp this boundlefs thing? I of the grape no mention make.
What shall I play? what shall I sing? Till my Anacreon by thee sell,
I'll sing the mighty riddle of mysterious love, Cursed plant! I lov'd thee well;
Which neither wretched men below, nor blefied And 'twas oft my wanton use
fpirits above, To dip my arrows in thy juice.
With all their comments can explain ;
How all the whole world's life to die did not Curled plant ! 'tis true, I sce,
disdain ! Th' old report that goes of thee That, with giants' blood the earth
I'll ling the searchless depths of the compassion Stain'd and poison'd, gave thee birth;
Divine, And now thou wreak'st thy ancient spite
The depths unfathom'd yet On men in whom the gods delight.
By reason's plummet and the line of wit; Thy patron Bacchus, 'tis no wonder,
Too light the plummet, and too short the line ! Was brought forth in flames and thurder;
How the etcrnal Father did bestow in rage, in quarrels and in fights,
His own eternal Son as ransom for his foe, Worse than his tigers, he delights;
I'll sing aloud, that all the world may heas in all our heaven I think there ne
The triumph of the buried Conqueror. No such ill-natur'd God as he.
How hell was by its prisoner captive led, Thou pretendeft, traiterous Wine !
And the great slayer, Death, slain by the dead. To be the Muses' friend and mine : With love and wit thou doft bogin,
Methinks I hear of murdered men the voice, Falle fires, alas ! to draw us in ;
Mixt with the murderers' confused noise,
* These verscs were not included among those Sleep were well; thou 'af learnt a way
which Mr. Cowley himself styled “ Miscellanies;” To death itself now to betray.
but were clafled by Bishop Sprat under the title It gricves me when I see what fate
by which they are here diftinguilhed. N. Does on th: bcft of mankind wait.
41 Sound from the top of Calvary;
Orinda first did a bold sally make,
Our stronge quarter take,
Turn'd upon Love himself his own artillery. Look, how he bends his gentle head with blellings from the tree!
Women, as if the body were their whole,
Did that, and not the foul,
Transnit to their pofterity;
If in it sometime they conceiv'd,
'Th' abortive issue never liv'd. kind.
"Twere thame and pity', Orioda, if in thee Unhappy man! canst thou stand by and see A spirit so rich, fo noble, and so high, All this as patient as he?
Should unnianur'd or barren lie. Since he thy fins does bear,
But thou industriously hall fow'd and tillid Make thou his sufferings thine own
The fair ard fruitful field; And weep, and figh, and groan,
And 't is a strange increafe that it does yield, And beat thy breat, and tear
As, when the happy Gnds above Thy garments and thy hair,
Meet all together at a feaft, And lee thy grief, and let thy love,
A secret joy unspeakable does move Through all thy bleeding bowels move.
In their great mother Cybele's contented breast : Doft thou not see thy prince in purple clad all o'er,
With no lefs pleafure thou, methinks, Mould see, Not purple brought from the sidonian shore,
This, thy no leis immortal progeny ; But made at home with richer gore?
And in their birth thou no one touch doft find, Duft thou not see the roles which acorn
Of th' anciunt curse to woman-kind : The thorny garland by him worn?
Thou bring it not forth wita pain ; Doit thou not see the livid traces
It neither travail is nor labour of the brain : Of the sharp fcourges' rude embraces?
So easily tlis y from thee come,
And there is į much room
In th' unexhausted and unfathem'd womb,
That, like the Holland Countess, thou may'lt
bear Look on his hands, look on his feet, look on his fide!
A child fur every day of all the fertile year. Open, oh! open wide the fountains of thine eyes, Thou dost niy wonder, wouldit my envy,
raise And let them call
If to be prais'd I lov'd more than to praise :
I must admire to fce thy well-knit furse, 'Twouli all, alas! too little be,
Thy numbers gentle, and thy farcies high; Though thy falt tears come from a sea. Those as thy forehead smouth, thcic sparkling as
Canid thou deny him this, when he Has open'd all his vital springs for thee?
"Tis ielid, and 'tis manly all, Take heed; for by his fide's mysterious flood
Or rather 'tis angelical;
For, as in angels, we
Both improv'd fixes e minently meet;
They talk di Nile, I know not who,
female chincras that o'er poets reign;
Ire'er could find that funcy true,
But have invok'd them oit, l’ın fare, in vain :
They talk of Sapho; but, alas! the fame!
lll-manners foil the luftre of her same; Orinda • does in that too reign ;
Orinda's inwand virtue is so briglit, Dies man behind her is proud triumph draw,
That, like a lantern's feir inclusid light, And cancel great Apollo's Salique law.
It through the paper shin: 3 where the dous write, We our old title plead in vain,
Honour and friendftip, and the ger«Toni 16 Man may be head, but woman's now the brain.
Of things for which we were not hill Verse was Lov's fire-arms heretofore,
(Things that can only by a fond difal, la Beauty's camp it was not known;
Like that of girls, our vicious itcma dis pleate) Too many arms besides that conqueror bore: Are the instructive subjects of her pen; 'Twas the great cannon we brought down
And, as the Roman vi&ory T'affault a stubborn town:
Taught our rude land arts and civility,
At once she overcomes, enflaves, and betters, men * Mrs. Catharine Philips.
But Rome with all her arts could ne'er inspire When (see the subtle ways which Fate does A female breast with such a fire :
Rebellious man to bind ! The warlike Amazonian train,
Just to the work for which he is assign'd) Who in Elysium now do peaceful reign,
The Mufe came in more cheerful than befor And Wit's mild cmpire before arms prefer, And bade me quarrel with her now no mar Hope 'twill be settled in their sex by her.
“ Lo! thy reward ! look here, and see Merlin the seer (and sure he would not lye,
“ What I have made" (said she) In such a sacred company)
My lover and belov'd, my Broghill, do for Does prophecies of learn'd Orinda show, Though thy own versi no lasting fame can Which he had darkly spoke so long ago;
" Thou shalt at least in his for ever live. Ev'n Boadicia's angry ghost
“ What critics, the great Hectors now in Forgets her own misfortune and disgrace, “ Who rant and challenge all men that have
And to her injur'd daughters now does boast, Will dare toppose thee, when That Rome 's o'ercome at last, by a woman of Broghill in thy defence has drawn his her race.
“ quering pen?"
I rofe, and bow'd my head,
Well satisfy'd and proud,
I strait resolv'd, and folemnly I vow'd,
'That from her fcrvice now I ne'er would p PON OCCASION OF A COPY OF VERSES OF MY
So strongly large rewards work on a gra
heart! LORD BROGHILL's.
Nothing so soon the drooping spirits can rai E gone (said I) ingrateful Muse! and see
As praises from the men whom all men praisi
'Tis the best cordial, and which only those Since I grew man, and wiser ought to be, Who have at home th' ingredients can compo
My business and my hopes I left for thee : A cordial that restores our fainting breath,
The only danger is, left it should be
Too strong a remedy;
Too violent a heat;
Ah! gracious God! that I might see
A time when it were dangerous for me Well: but in love thou doit pretend to reign ; To be o'er-heat with praise !
There thine the power and lordship is; But I within me bear, alas! too great allays. Thou bad'st me write, and write, and write again; "Tis faid, Apelles, when he Venus drew,
'Twas such a way as could not miss.
Did naked women for his pattern view,
And with his powerful fancy did refine For, after all my expence of wit and pain,
Their human shapes into a form divine; A rich, unwriting hand, carried the prize away.
None who had fat could her own picture sce,
Or say, ore part was drawn for me : Thus I complain'd, and strait the Muse reply'd, So, though this nobler painter, when he writ, That she hath given me fame.
Was pleas’d to think it fit Bounty immenfe! and that too must be try'd
That my book should before him fit, When I myself am nothing but a name.
Not as a cause, but an occasion, to his wit; Who now, what reader does not strive Yet what have I to boaft, or to apply T'invalidate the gift whilft we're alive?
To my advantage out of it; since 1, For, when a poct now himself doth show, Instead of my own likeness, only find As if he were a common foe,
The bright idea there of the great writer's min All draw upon him, all around,
And every part of him they wound, Happy the man that gives the deepest blow : And this is all, kind Muse! to thee we owe. Then in rage I took,
ODE. And out at window threw,
MR. COWLEY'S BOOK PRESENTING ITSELF Ovid and Horace, all the chiming crew;
THE UNIVERSITY LIBRARY OF OXFORD. Homer himself went with them too; Hardly escap'd the sacred Mantuan book :
AII, Learning's Pantheon! Hail, the laer I my own offspring, like Agave, tore, And I resolv’d, nay, and I think I swore, Where all the world of science does embark ! That I no more the ground would till and sow, Which ever shall withstand, and halt so lor Where only flowery weeds instead of corn did withstood, grow.
Insatiate Time's devouring flood.
DRINKING IN THE CHAIRMADE
OUT OF THE RELICS OF SIR FRANCIS
CHEER.wp, my mates, the wind docs fairly
- Fate do, trce of knowledge! thy leaves fruit ! which 'T had happier been for him, as well as me; well
For when all, alas! is done, alliga'd in the midst of paradise arise,
We books, I mean, You books, will prove to be than be Oxford! the Muse's paradise,
The best and noblest conversation: m which may never sword the bless'd expel ! For, though some errors will get in, il, bank of all past ages! where they lie
Like tinctures of original sin;
Yet sure we from our fathers' wit
Draw all the strength and spirit of it, - famc
here thousand lights into one brightness spread; Leaving the gresser parts for conversation,
As the best blood of man's employ'd in generation, that enconfuz'd Babel of all tongues! which e'er when he mighty linguist Fame, or Time, the mighty traveler,
ODE. That could speak, or this could hear. Kajestic monument and pyramid ! laid: here fill the iha des of parted souls abide mbalm'd in verse ; exalted souls which now
DRAKE'S SHIP. ri'd, njoy those arts they woo'd so well below;
Which now all wonders plainly sce,
Clap on more fail, and never spare; The beatific Bodley of the Deity;
Farewell all lands, for now we are Fits *** Fill you into your sacred throng admit
In the wide fea of drink, and merrily we go. The meinelt British Wit?
Bless me, 'tis hot! another bowl of wine, ser lou, general council of the priests of Fame,
And we shall cut the burning Line :
Hey, boys! fhe scuds away, and by my head i
know The humblert deacon of her train ?
We round the world are failing now. you allow me th' honourable chain?
What dull men are those that tarry at home,
When abroad they might wantonly roam,
And gain such experience, and spy too
Such countries and wonders, as I do! Than all my own Pindaric liberty!
But pr’ythee, good pilot, take heed what you do, h Will ye to bind me with those mighty names
And fail not to touch at Peru!
With gold there the vessel we'll store,
And never, and never be poor, -:- Whatever happy book is chained here,
No, never be poor any more. No other place or people need to fear;
What do I mean? What thoughts do me misguide? His chain’s a passport to go every where,
As well upon a staff may witches ride
Their fancy'd journeys in the air, pe: Is to an unmalicious finner given,
As I fail round the ocean in this chair !
"I'is true; but yet this chair which here Does none but patriarchs and apostles there cfpy; Martyrs who did their lives bestow,
For all its quiet now, and gravity, And faints, who martyrs liv'd below; Has wander'd and has travel'd more With trembling and amazement he begins
Than ever beast, or fish, or bird, or ever tree, $" To recollect his frailties past and fins;
before : He doubts almost his station there;
In every air and every sea 't has been, His foul says to itself, “ How came I here ?" "T has compass'd all the earth, and all the heavens It fares no otherwise with me,
't has seen.
This is the only universal chair.
The pious wanderer's fect, fav’d from the fame No labour I, nor mirits, can pretend;
(Which still the relics did of Troy pursue,
And took them for its due), I think predestination only was my friend.
A squadron of inmortal nymphs became : Ah, that my author had been ty'd like me
Still with their armıs they row about the seas, To such a place and such a company!
And still make new and greater voyages :
Nor has the first poetic ship of Greece
(Though now a star she so triumphant show, He mighe have then improv'd that small estate And guide her sailing successors below, Which Nature sparingly did to him give;
Bright as her ancient freight the shining fleece) He might perhaps have thriven then, Yet to this day a quiet harbour found; And fetcled upon, me, his child, somewhat to live. The tide of heaven still carries her around.