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What 's this, ye Gods! what can it be?
Thou kind, well-natur’d tyranny! Remaios there ftill an enemy?
Thou chafe committer of a rape! Bold Honour stands up in the gate,
Thou voluntary destiny, And would yet capitulate;
Which no man can, or would, escape! Have I o'ercome all real foes,
So gentle, and so glad to spare, And shall this phantom me oppose ?
So wondrous good, and wondrous fair,
(We know) ev’n the destroying-angels are.
Sbe. HAT have we done? what cruel pal
, Sure I shall rid myself of thce,
Thus to ruin her that lov'd thee? By the night's obfcurity,
Me thou'st robb’d; but what art thou And obscurer secrecy!
Thyself the richer now? Unlike to every other sprite,
Shane succeeds the short liv'd pleasure ; Thou attempt'ít not men s'affright,
So soon is spent, and gone, this thy ill. gotten Nor appear'st but in the light.
treasure! He. We have done no harm; nor was it theft
THE INNOCENT ILL
But noblest charity in thee. l'll the well-gotten pleasure Safe in my memory treasure :
'HOUGH all thy gestures and discourses be
Coin'd and stamp'd by modesty ;
Though from thy tongue ne'er fipp'd away
Yet such a sweetness, such a grace,
That thy tongue is to th' ear:
It strikes such heat through every part,
So much as of original fin,
Such charms thy beauty wears as might
Thou with strange adultery,
And some enjoy thee when they alcep.
Who to such multitudes did give
That a fly's death 's a wound to thee;
Though favage and rock-hearted those
Yet ne'er before was tyrant known,
Thou 'rt principal and instrument :
You do the treble office do
Which God did for our faults create !
Thou pleasant, universal ill,
What though the flower itself do waste,
And nothing can restore 't again.
is lut l'embalm a body dead :
By Love, but Indiscretion.
Like tapers fhut in ancient urns,
Wilt make thy wicked boast of it;
Nor think a perfect victory gain'd,
The bawd to his own wife is made;
'Tis you the conqueror are,
Sbe. Though public punishment we escape, the fin
Will rack and torture us within :
That worm which now the core does waite,
skin at lait.
He. That thirsty drink, that hungry food, I BATHING IN THE RIVER.
"HE fish around her crowded, as they do And thou in pity didit apply, The kind and only remedy :
shew, The cause abfolves the crime; since mc
And all with as much ease might taken be,
As she at first took me ; So mighty force did move, so mighty goodness
For ne'er did light so clear thee.
Among the waves appear, Sbe. Curse on thine arts! methinks I hate thee Though every night the sun himself set there. now;
Why to mute fish should'st thou thyself discover, And yet I'm sure I love thee too!
And not to me, thy no less filent lover? I'm angry; but my wrath will prove
As some from men their buried gold commit More innocent than did thy love.
To ghosts, that have no use of it;
Half their rich treasures so Yet wilt undo me more should'st thou not come Maids bury; and, for aught we know, at night.
(Poor ignorants!) they're mermaids all below. The amorous waves would fain about her stay, But still new amorous waves drive them away,
And with swift current to those joys they haste, VERSES UPON A LOST WAGER.
That do as (wistly waste:
I laugh'd the wanton play to view ; S soon hereafter will I wagers lay
But ’tis, alas! at land fo too,
And fill old lovers yield the place to new. Fool that I was, to venture to deny
Kiss her, and as you part, you amorous waves A tongue so us'd to victory! A tongue so bleft by nature and by art,
(My happier rivals, and my fellow-flaves)
Point to your flowery banks, and to her hew That never yet it spoke but gain'dan heart : Though whai you said had not been true,
The good your buunties do;
Then te! her what your pride doth cost, If spoke by any else but you ;
And how your use and beauty's loft, Your speech will govern deftiny, And Fate will change rather than you should iye. When rigorous winter binds you up with frost.
Tell her, her beauties and her youth, like thee, 'Tis true, if human Reason were the guide,
Haste without stop to a devouring sea; Reason, mcthinks, was on my lide; Where they will mix'd and undistinguish'a lie But that 's a guide, alas! we must rclign, With all the meanest things that die; When th' authority 's divine.
As in the ocean thou She said, she said herself it would be fo;
No privilege dost know And I, bold unbeliever! answer'd no :
Above th' impurest fireams that thither flow. Never so justly, fure, before, Error the name of blindness bore ;
Tell her, kind food! when this has made her sad, For, whatsoe'er the question be,
Tell her there's yet one remedy to be had: There's no man that has eyes would bei for me.
Shew her how thou, though long since past, dost
find If Truth itself (as other angels do
Thyself yet still behind : When they descend to human view)
Marriage (fay to her) will bring In a material form would deign to shine,
About the self same thing, "Twould imitate or borrow thinc:
But she, fond maid, shuts and seals-up the spring.
Happy thc cye which Truth could see
LOVE GIVEN OVER.
is erough; enough of time and pain
Hast thou consum'd in vain ; Yet this loft wager costs me nothing more
Leave, wretched Cowley ! leave Than what I ow'd to thee before :
Thyself with shadows to deceive; Who would not venture for that debt to play,
Think that already lost which thou must never Which he were bound howe'er to pay?
gain, If Nature gave me power to write in verse, She gave it me thy praises to rehearse :
Three of thy lustiest and thy frohest years Thy wondrous beauty and thy wit
(Toss'd in storms of hopes and scars) Has such a sovereign right to it,
Like helpless ships that be That no man's Mufe for public vent is free,
Set on fire i' th' midst o' the sea, Till the has paid her customs first to thee. Have all been burnt in love, and all been drown's
Resolve then on it, and by force or art
Metals grow within the mine,
Luscious grapes upon the vine;
Still the needle marks the pole ;
Parts are equal to the whole: And not one frar in heaven offers to take thy 'Tis a truth as clear, that Love part.
Quickens all, bılow, above. fe'er I clear my heart from this desire,
Man is born to live and die, If e'er it home to its breast retire,
Snakes to creep, and birds to fly;
Fishes in the waters swim,
Pushes all things on to Love.
Does the cedar love the mountain? But death and love are never found
Or the thirsty deer the fountain ? To give a second wound,
Does the shepherd love his crook? We're by those ferpents bit, but we're devour'd
Or the willow court thc brook 3 by thcie.
Thus by Nature all things move, Alas! what comfort is 't that I am grown
Like a running stream, to Love. Secure of being again o'erthrown?
Is the valiant hero bold ?
Does the miser doat on gold?
Seek the birds in spring to pair ?
Should you this deny, you 'll prove
As the toper loves his glass,
As the friar loves his cowl,
So do all, helow, above, "HROW an apple up a hill,
Fly precipitate to Love.
When young maidens courtship shun,
When the moon outshines the sun, So are all things prone to Love,
When the tigers lambs beget, All below, and all above.
When the snow is black as jet,
When the planets cease to move,
Then shall Nature cease to Love.
ON THE POWER OF LOVE.
N. B. This is delivered down by tradition as a Bid the planets not incline:
production of Cowley; and was spoken at the Tis as vain, below, above,
Westminster-School election, on the iollowing To inpede the course of Love.
subject : Salanianders live in fire,
“ Nullis amor eft medicabilis berbis."-Ovid. Eagles to the kies aspire, Diamonds in their quarries lic,
OL Daphne sees, and seeing her admires,
Had any remedy for Love been known,
The god of Physic, sure, had cur'd his own.
FRESERVED FROM AN OLD MANUSCRIPT.
“ Pindarici fontis qui non expalluit hauftus.”-Hor. I. Ep. III. 3.
P R E F A CE.
F a man should undertake to translate Pindar word for word, it would be thought
that one mad-man had translated another; as may appear, when he that underftande not the original, reads the verbal traduction of him into Latin profe, than which nothing seems more raving. And sure, rhyme, without the addition of wit, and the spirit of poetry (" quod nequco monitrare & fentio tantum”) would but make it ten times more distracted than it is in profe. We must consider in Pindar the great difference of time betwixt his age and ours, which changes, as in pictures, at least the colours of poetry; the no less difference betwixt the religions and customs of our countries; and a thoufand particularities of places, persons, and manners, which do but confusedly appear to our eyes at so great a distance. And lastly (which were enough alone for my purpose) we must consider that our ears are strangers to the music of his numbers, which some times (especially in fongs and odes) almost without any thing else, makes an excellent poet; for though the grammarians and critics have laboured to reduce his verses into regular feet and measures (as they have also those of the Greek and Latin comedies) yet in effect they are little better than prose to our ears. And I would gladly know what applause our best pieces of Englih pocsy could expect from a Frenchman of Italian, if converted faithfully, and word for word, into French or Italian prose. And when we have considered all this, we must needs confefs, that after all these losses fustained by Pindar, all we can add to him by our wit or invention (not deserting still bis fubject) is not like to make him a richer man than he was in his own country. This is in some measure to be applied to all translations; and the not observing of it, is the cause that all which ever 1 yet faw, are so much inferior to their originals. The like happens too in pictures, from the same root of exact imitation; which, being a vile and unworthy kind of fervitude, is incapable of producing any thing good or noble I have seen originals, both in painting and poesy, much more beautiful than their na tural objects; but I never saw a copy better than the original: which indeed cannot be otherwise ; for, men resolving in no cafe to shoot beyond the mark, it is a thousand one if they shoot not thort of it. It does not at all trouble me that the grammarian perhaps will not suffer this libertine way of rendering foreign authors to be calle
Tranflation; for I am not so much enamoured of the name Translator, as not to wi rather to be something better, though it want yet a name. I speak not so much all thi in defence of my manner of translating, or imitating (or what other title they pleal the two ensuing Odes of Pindar; for that would not deserve half these words; as this occasion to rectify the opinion of divers men upon this matter. The Psalms