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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.
Noisy nothing! stalking shade!
By what witchcraft wert thou made ?
Empty cause of folid harms!
But I shall find out counter-charms,

Thy airy devilship to remove
From this circle here of love.

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


in me,



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
One word which nuns at th' altar might not lay;

Yet such a sweetness, such a grace,
In all thy speech appear,
That what to th' eye a beauteous face,

That thy tongue is to th' ear:
So cunningly it wounds the heart,

It strikes such heat through every part,
That thou a tempter worse than Satan art.
Though in thy thoughts scarce any tracks have

So much as of original fin,

Such charms thy beauty wears as might
Dtfires in dying confess’d saints excite :

Thou with strange adultery,
Dost in each breast a brothel keep;
Awake all men do lust for thee,

And some enjoy thee when they alcep.
Ne'er before did woman live,

Who to such multitudes did give
The root and cause of sin, but only Eve.
Though in thy breast so quick a pity be,

That a fly's death 's a wound to thee;

Though favage and rock-hearted those
Appear, that weep not ev'n Romance's woes;

Yet ne'er before was tyrant known,
Whose rage was of so large extent ;
The ills thou dost are whole thine own;

Thou 'rt principal and instrument :
In all the deaths that come from you,

You do the treble office do
Of judge, of torturer, and of weapon too.
Thou lovely instrument of angry Fate,

Which God did for our faults create !

Thou pleasant, universal ill,
Which, sweet as health, yet like a plague dost kill!

What though the flower itself do waste,
The effence from it drawn does long and sweeter

She. No: I’m undone; my honour thou hast Nain,

And nothing can restore 't again.
Art and labour to bestow,
Upon the carcase of it now,

is lut l'embalm a body dead :
The figure may remain, the life and beauty's

Hi. Never, my dear, was honour yet undone

By Love, but Indiscretion.
To th' wise it all allow;
And car s not What we do, bue How.

Like tapers fhut in ancient urns,
Unless it let-in air, for ever shines and burns.
She. Thou fisk, perhaps, who did the fault


Wilt make thy wicked boast of it;
For men, with Koman pride, above
The conquest do the triumph love;

Nor think a perfect victory gain'd,
Unless they through the streets their captive

lead inchain'd.
He. Whoe'er his secret joys has open laid,

The bawd to his own wife is made;
Beside, what boast is left for me,
Whefe whole wealth 's a gift from thee?

'Tis you the conqueror are,
Who have not only ta’en, but bound and gagg'd

'tis you

me too.

Sbe. Though public punishment we escape, the fin

Will rack and torture us within :
Guilt and fin our bofom bears;
And, though fair yet the fruit appears,

That worm which now the core does waite,
When long 't has gnaw'd within, will break the

skin at lait.

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He. That thirsty drink, that hungry food, I BATHING IN THE RIVER.

That wounded balm is all my fault;

"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;
Thou hast this day undone me quite;

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.
So dazzling bright, yet so transparent clear,
So well-proportion'd would the parts appear!

Happy thc cye which Truth could see
Cloath'd in a shape like thee;
But happier far the eye

Which could thy shape naked like Truth espy!


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

in tears.

Resolve then on it, and by force or art

Metals grow within the mine,
Free thy unlucky heart;

Luscious grapes upon the vine;
Since Fate does disapprove

Still the needle marks the pole ;
Tl'ambition of thy love,

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;
It ne'er thall wander more about,

Fishes in the waters swim,
Though thousand beauties call it out : Doves are mild, and lions grim :
A lover burnt like me for ever dreads the fire. Nature thus, below, above,
pox, the plague, and every small disease,

Pushes all things on to Love.
come as oft as ill fate please ;

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 ?
Since such an enemy needs not fear

Does the miser doat on gold?
Lest any else should quarter there,
V'ho has not only fack'd, but quite burnt down, Breathes the rose-bud fcented air ?

Seek the birds in spring to pair ?
the town.

Should you this deny, you 'll prove
Nature is averse to Love.
As the wencher loves a lass,

As the toper loves his glass,

As the friar loves his cowl,
Or the miller loves the toll,

So do all, helow, above, "HROW an apple up a hill,

Fly precipitate to Love.
Down the apple tumbles still;
Roll it down, it never stops

When young maidens courtship shun,
Till within the vale it drops :

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,
Down the mountain flows the stream,

Then shall Nature cease to Love.
l'p ascends the lambent Aamc;
Saroke and vapour mount the skies;
All prekrve their unities;
Nought below, and pought above,
Secmis averse, but prone to Love.

Stop the meteor in its flight,

Or the orient rays of light;
Eid Dau Phæbus no: to shine,

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,
Rivers do the sca supply:
Trus appears, below, above,

Had any remedy for Love been known,
A propensity to Love.

The god of Physic, sure, had cur'd his own.


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Pindarici fontis qui non expalluit hauftus.-Hor. I. Ep. III. 3.

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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

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But death did them from future dangers free;
What God, alas! will caution be

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