Cowley. Denham. Milton. Butler. Rochester. Roscommon. Otway. Waller. Pomfret ...

But fometimes age may pleasant things behold,
And nothing that offends: He fhould have told
This not to age, but youth, who oftener fee
What not alone offends, but hurts, than we:
That Iin him, which he in age, condemn'd,
That us it renders odious and contemn'd.
He knew not virtue, if he thought this truth;
For youth delights in age, and age in youth.
What to the old can greater pleasure be,
Than hopeful and ingenuous youth to fee;
When they with reverence follow where we lead,
And in ftrait paths by our directions tread!
And cv'n my converfation here I fee,
As well receiv'd by you, as yours by me.
'Tis difingenuous to accufe our age
Of idlenefs, who all our powers engage
In the fame ftudies, the fame course to hold;
Nor think our reafon for new arts too old.
Solon the fage his progrefs never ceas'd,
But ftill his learning with his days increas'd;
And I with the fame greedinefs did feek,
As water when I thirst, to fwallow Greek;
Which I did only learn, that I might know
Those great examples which I follow now;
And I have heard that Socrates the wife,
Learn'd on the lute for his last exercise.
Though many of the ancients did the fame,
To improve knowledge was my only aim.

warm,

Old Milo wept, to fee his naked arm;

And cry'd, 'twas dead: Trifler, thine heart, and head,

And all that's in them (not thy arm) are dead;
This folly every looker-on derides,
To glory only in thy arms and fides.
Our gallant ancestors let fall no tears,
Their ftrength decreasing by increasing years.
But they advanc'd in wisdom every hour,
And made the commonwealth advance in power.
But orators may grieve, for in their fides,
Rather than heads, their faculty abides;
Yet I have heard old voices loud and clear,
And ftill my own fometimes the fenate hear.
When th' old with smooth and gentle voices plead,
They by the ear their well-pleas'd audience lead.
Which, if I had not strength enough to do,
I could (my Lælius, and my Scipio)
What's to be done, or not be done, inftru&t,
And to the maxims of good life conduct.
Cneius and Publius Scipio, and (that man
Of men) your grandfire the great African,

Were joyful, when the flower of noble blood
Crowded their dwellings, and attending stood,
Like oracles their counfels to receive,

How in their progrefs they fhould act, and live.
And they whofe high examples youth obeys,
Are not despised, though their strength decays,
And thofe decays (to fpeak the naked truth,
Though the defects of age) were crimes of youth.
Intemperate youth (by fad experience found)
Ends in an age imperfect and unfound.
Cyrus, though ag'd (if Xenophon say true);
Lucius Metellus (whom when young I knew)
Who held (after his fecond confulate)
Twenty-two years the high pontificate;
Neither of thefe, in body or in mind,
Before their death the least decay did find.
I fpeak not of myself, though none deny
To age, to praise their youth, the liberty:
Such an unwasted ftrength I cannot boast,
Yet now my years are eighty-four almost :
And though from what it was my ftrength is far,
Both in the first and second Punic war,
Nor at Thermopyla, under Glabrio,
Nor when I conful into Spain did go;
But yet I feel no weakness, nor hath length
Of winters quite enervated my strength;
And I, my guest, my client, or my friend,
Still in the courts of justice can defend:
Neither muft I that proverb's truth allow,
"Who would be ancient, must be early fo."
I would be youthful ftill, and find no need
To appear old, till I was fo indeed.
And yet you fee my hours not idle are,
Though with your strength I cannot mine com-
pare;

Yet this centurion's doth your's furmount.
Not therefore him the better man I count.
Milo, when entering the Olympic game,
With a huge ox upon his shoulder came.
Would you the force of Milo's body find,
Rather than that of Pythagoras's mind?
The force which nature gives with care retain,
But, when decay'd, 'tis folly to complain;
In age to wish for youth is full as vain,
As for a youth to turn a child again.
Simple and certain nature's ways appear,
And the fets forth the feasons of the year.
So in all parts of life we find her truth,
Weakness to childhood, rafhnefs to our youth;
To elder years to be discreet and grave,
Then to old age maturity fhe gave.
(Scipio) you know, how Mafliniffa bears
His kingly port at more than ninety years;
When marching with his foot, he walks till night;
When with his horfe, he never will alight;
Though cold, or wet, his head is always bare;
So hot, fo dry, his aged members are.
You fee how exercife and temperance
Ev'n to old years a youthful ftrength advance,
Our law (because from age our frength retires)
No duty which belongs to ftrength requires.
But age doth many men fo feeble make,
That they no great design can undertake;
Yet, that to age not singly is apply'd,
But to all man's infirmities befide.

That Scipio, who adopted you, did fall
Into fuch pains, he had no health at all;
Who elfe had equal'd Africanus' parts,
Exceeding him in all the liberal arts:
Why should thofe errors then imputed be

To age alone, from which our youth's not free?
Every difeafe of age we may prevent,
Like thofe of youth, by being diligent.
When fick, fuch moderate exercife we use,
And diet, as our vital heat renews;
And if our body thence refreshment finds
Then muft we alfo exercise our minds.
If with continual oil we not supply
Our lamp, the light for want of it will die :
Though bodies may be tir'd with exercise,
No wearinefs the mind could e'er furprize.
Cæcilius the comedian, when of age
He reprefents the follies on the ftage;
They're credulous, forgetful, diffolute,

Neither thofe crimes to age he doth impute,
But to old men to whom those crimes belong.
Luft, petulance, rafhnefs, are in youth more
strong,

Than age,
and yet young men thofe vices hate,
Who virtuous are, difcreet, and temperate :
And fo what we call dotage, feldom breeds
In bodies, but where nature fows the feeds.
There are five daughters, and four gallant fons,
In whom the blood of noble Appius runs,
With a moft numerous family befide;
Whom he alone, though old and blind, did guide,
Yet his clear-fighted mind was ftill intent,
And to his business like a bow ftood bent:
By children, fervants, neighbours, so esteem'd,
He not a master, but a monarch seem'd.
All his relations his admirers were,
His fons paid reverence, and his fervants fear;
The order and the ancient difcipline
Of Romans did in all his actions fhine.
Authority kept-up old age fecures,
Whofe dignity as long as life endures.
Something of youth I in old age approve,
But more the marks of age in youth I love.
Who this obferves, may in his body find
Decrepit age, but never in his mind.
The feven volumes of my own reports,
Wherein are all the pleadings of our courts;
All noble monuments of Greece are come
Unto my hands, with thofe of ancient Rome.
The pontificial, and the civil law,
I ftudy ftill, and thence orations draw.
And to confirm my memory, at night,
What I hear, fee, or do, by day, I still recite.
These exercises for my thoughts I find,
Thefe labours are the chariots of my mind.
To ferve my friends, the fenate I frequent,
And there, what I before digested, vent.
Which only from my strength of mind proceeds,
Not any outward force of body needs:
Which, if I could not do, I should delight
On what I would to ruminate at night.
Who in fuch practices their minds engage,
Nor fear nor think of their approaching age;
Which by degrees invifibly doth creep :
Nor do we feem to die, but fall asleep.

THE THIRD PART.

Nof pleasures, which i' th' fea of age are loft.

OW must I draw my forces 'gainst that hoft

O thou most high tranfcendent gift of age!
Youth from its folly thus to difengage.

And now receive from me that most divine
Oration of that noble Tarentine,

Which at Tarentum I long fince did hear;
When I attended the great Fabius there.
Ye gods! was it man's nature, or his fate,
Betray'd him with fweet pleasure's poifon'd
bait?

Which he, with all defigns of art or power,
Doth with unbridled appetite devour:
And as all poifons feek the noblest part,
Pleasure poffeffes firft the head and heart;
Intoxicating both, by them, she finds,

And burns the facred temples of our minds.
Furies, which reafon's divine chains had bound,
(That being broken) all the world confound.
Luft, murder, treafon, avarice, and hell
Itfelf broke loofe, in reafon's palace dwell:
Truth, honour, justice, temperance, are fled,
All her attendants into darkness led.
But why all this difcourfe? when pleasure's rage
Hath conquer'd reafon, we mutt treat with age.
Age undermines, and will in time furprize
Her ftrongeft forts, and cut off all fupplies;
And, join'd in league with ftrong neceflity,
Pleasure muit fly, or elfe by famine die.
Flaminius, whom a confulfhip had grac'd,
(Then cenfor) from the fenate I difplac'd;
When he in Gaul, a conful, made a feast,
A beauteous courtezan did him request
To fee the cutting off a prifoner's head;
This crime I could not leave unpunished,
Since by a private villainy he ftain'd
That public honour, which at Rome he gain'd.
Then to our age (when not to pleasures bent).
This feems an honour, not difparagement.
We, not all pleasures, like the Stoics, hate;
But love and feek thofe which are moderate.
(Though divine Plato thús of pleasures thought,
They us, with hooks and baits, like fishes caught)
When quæftor to the gods, in public halls

I was the first who fet up feftivals.
Not with high taftes our appetites did force,
But fill'd with converfation and difcourfe;
Which feasts Convivial Meetings we did name:
Not like the ancient Greeks, who, to their fhame,
Call'd it a Compotation, not a feaft;
Declaring the worst part of it the best.
Those entertainments I did then frequent
Sometimes with youthful heat and merriment:
But now I thank my age, which gives me eale
From those exceffes; yet myfelf I pleafe
With cheerful talk to entertain my guests,
(Difcourfes are to age continual feasts)
The love of meat and wine they recompenfe,
And cheer the mind, as much as thofe the fenfe.
I'm not more pleas'd with gravity among
The ag'd, than to be youthful with the young;
Nor 'gainst all pleafures proclaim open war,
To which, in age, fome natural motions are.

248

And ftill at my Sabinum I delight

To treat my neighbours till the depth of night.
But we the fense of guft and pleasure want,
Which youth at full poffeffes, this I grant;

But age fecks not the things which youth re-
quires,

And no man needs that which he not defires.
When Sophocles was afk'd, if he deny'd
Himself the ufe of pleasures, he reply'd,
I humbly thank th' immortal gods, who me
From that fierce tyrant's infolence fet free.
But they, whom preffing appetites constrain,
Grieve when they cannot their defires obtain.
Young men the use of pleasure understand,
As of an object new, and near at hand:
Though this ftands more remote from age's fight
Yet they behold it not without delight:
As ancient foldiers, from their duties eas'd,
With fenfe of honour and rewards are pleas'd;
So from ambitious hopes aud lufts releast,
Delighted with itself, our age doft reft
No part of life's more happy, when with bread
Of ancient knowledge, and new learning fed.
All youthful pleafures by degrees must cease:
But thofe of age ev'n with our years increase.
We love not loaded boards, and goblets crown'd,
But free from furfeits our repofe is found.
When old Fabricius to the Samnites went,
Ambaffador, from Rome to Pyrrhus fent,
He heard a grave philofopher maintain,
That all the actions of our life were vain,
Which with our fenfe of pleasure not confpir'd;
Fabricius the philofopher defir'd,

That he to Pyrrhus would that maxim teach,
And to the Samnites the fame doctrine preach;
Then of their conqueft he should doubt no more,
Whom their own pleasures overcame before.
Now into ruftic matters I must fall,
Which pleasure seems to me the chief of all,
Age no impediment to thofe can give,
Who wifely by the rules of nature live.
Earth (though our mother) cheerfully obeys
All the commands her race upon her lays.
For whatsoever from our hand fhe takes,
Greater or lefs, a vaft return fhe makes.
Nor am I only pleas'd with that refource,
But with her ways, her method, and her force:
The feed her bofom (by the plough made fit)
Receives, where kindly fhe embraces it,

Which, with her genuine warmth diffus'd and
fpread,

Sends forth betimes a green and tender head,
Then gives it motion, life, and nourishment,
Which from the root through nerves and veins
are fent,

Streight in a hollow fheath upright it grows,
And, form receiving, doth itfelf difclofe:
Drawn up in ranks and files, the bearded spikes
Guard it from birds, as with a stand of pikes.
When of the vine I fpeak, I feem inspir'd,
And with delight, as with her juice, am fir'd;
At nature's god-like power I ftand amaz'd,
Which fuch vaft bodics hath from atoms rais'd.
The kernel of a grape, the fig's fmall grain,
Can cloath a mountain, and o'erfhade a plain :

But thou, dear vine, forbid'st me to be long,
Although thy trunk be neither large nor ftrong,
Nor can thy head (not helpt) itself sublime,
Yet, like a ferpent, a tall tree can climb;
Whate'er thy many fingers can entwine,
Prove thy fupport, and all its strength is thine.
Though nature gave not legs, it gave thee hands,
By which thy prop the proudest cedar ftands:
As thou haft hands, fo hath thy offspring wings,
And to the highest part of mortals fprings.
But left thon fhould'st consume thy wealth in vain,
And ftarve thyself to feed a numerous train,
Or like the bee (fweet as thy blood) defign'd
To be deftroy'd to propagate his kind,
Should fading leaves instead of fruits produce,
Left thy redundant and fuperfluous juice
The pruner's hand, with letting blood, must
quench

Thy heat, and thy exuberant parts retrench:
Then from the joints of thy prolific ftem
A fwelling knot is raised (call'd a gem),
Whence, in short space, itfelf the clufter fhows,
And from earth's moisture mixt with fun-beams

grows.

I' th' fpring, like youth, it yields an acid taste,
But fummer doth, like age, the fournefs wafte;
Then cloath'd with leaves, from heat and cold
fecure,

Like virgins, fweet, and beauteous, when mature.
On fruits, flowers, herbs, and plants, I long could
dwell,

At once to please my eye, my tafte, my_fmell;
My walks of trees, all planted by my hand,
Like children of my own begetting stand.
To tell the feveral natures of each earth,
What fruits from each moft properly take birth:
And with what arts to enrich every mold,
The dry to moiften, and to warm the cold.
But when we graft, or buds inoculate,
Nature by art we nobly meliorate;
As Orpheus' music wildest beasts did tame,
From the four crab the sweetest apple came :
The mother to the daughter goes to school,
The fpecies changed, deth her laws o'er-rule;
Nature herfelf doth from herself depart,
(Strange tranfmigration!) by the power of art.
How little things give law to great! we fee
The fmall bud captivates the greatest tree.
Here even the power divine we imitate,
And feem not to beget, but to create.
Much was I pleas'd with fowls and beasts, the

tame

Excufe me when this pleasant string I touch,
For food and profit, and the wild for game.
(For age, of what delights it, fpeaks too much)
Who twice victorious Pyrrhus conquered,
The Sabines and the Samnites captive led,
Great Curius, his remaining days did spend,
And in this happy life his triumphs end.
My farm ftands near, and when I there retire,
His and that age's temper I admire :
The Samnites chiefs, as by his fire he fate,
With a vaft fum of gold on hini did wait;
Return, faid he, your gold I nothing weigh,
When thofe, who can command it, me obey:

DENHAM'S

This my affertion proves, he may be old,
And yet not fordid, who refufes gold.
In fummer to fit ftill, or walk, I love,
Near a cool fountain, or a shady grove.
What can in winter render more delight,
Than the high fun at noon, and fire at night?
While our old friends and neighbours feast and
play,

And with their harmless mirth turn night to day,
Unpurchas'd plenty our full tables loads,
And part of what they lent, return t' our gods.
That honour and authority which dwells
With age, all pleasures of our youth excels,
Obferve, that I that age have only prais'd
Whofe pillars were on youth's foundations rais'd,
And that (for which I great applause receiv'd)
As a true maxim hath been fince believ'd.
That moft unhappy age great pity needs,
Which to defend itself new matter pleads;
Not from grey hairs authority doth flow,

Nor from bald heads, nor from a wrinkled brow,
But our paft life, when virtuously spent,

Muft to our age thofe happy fruits prefent.
Thofe things to age nioft honourable are,
Which cafy, common, and but light appear,
Salutes, confulting, compliment, refort,
Crouding attendance to, and from the court.
And not on Rome alone this honour waits,
But on all civil and well-govern'd frates.
Lyfander pleading in his city's praise,
From thence his ftrongest arguments did raise,
That Sparta did with honour age fupport,
Paying them juft refpect at ftage, and court.
But at proud Athens youth did age out-face,
Nor at the plays would rife, or give them place.
When an Athenian stranger of great age
Arriv'd at Sparta, climbing up the stage,
To him the whole affcmbly rofe, and ran
To place and ease this old and reverend man,
Who thus his thanks returns, Th' Athenians know
What's to be done; but what they know, not do.
Here our great fenate's orders I may quote,
The first in age is ftill the first in vote.
Nor honour, nor high birth, nor great command
In competition with great years may stand.
Why should our youth's fhort tranfient pleafures

dare

With age's lafting honours to compare?

On the world's ftage, when our applause grows
high,

For acting here life's tragic-comedy,
The lookers-on will fay we act not well,
Unless the last the former fcenes excel:
But age is froward, uncafy, fcrutinous,
Hard to be pleas'd, and parfimonious;
But all thofe errors from our manners rife,
Not from our years; yet fome morofities
We muft expect fince jealoufy belongs
To age of fcorn, and tender fenfe of wrongs:
Yet thofe are mollify'd, or not difcern'd,
Where civil arts and manners have been learn'd:
So the Twins humours, in our Terence, are
Unlike, this harsh and rude, that fimooth and fair.
Our nature here is not unlike our wine,
Some forts, when old, continue brifk and fine;
VOL. II.

POEMS.

So age's gravity may seem severe,
But nothing harsh or bitter ought t' appear.
Of age's avarice I cannot fee

What colour, ground, or reason there should be:
Is it not folly, when the way we ride
Is fhort, for a long voyage to provide?
To avarice fome title youth may own,
To reap in autumn what the spring had fown;
And with the providence of bees, or ants,
Prevent with fummer's plenty, winter's wants,
But age scarce fows, till death ftands by to reap,
And to a stranger's hand transfers the heap;
Afraid to be fo once, fhe's always poor,
And to avoid a mischief makes it fure.
Such madness, as for fear of death to die,
Is, to be poor for fear of poverty.

THE FOURTH PART.

N The left, and greatest grievance, we engage;

TOW against (that which terrifies our age)

To her, grim death appears in all her shapes,
The hungry grave for her due tribute gapes.
Fond, foolish man! with fear of death furpriz'd,
Which either fhould be wish'd for, or defpis'd;
This, if our fouls with bodies death destroy;
That, if our fouls a fecond life enjoy
What elfe is to be fear'd; when we shall gain
Eternal life, or have no fenfe of pain?
The youngest in the morning are not fure,
That till the night their life they can fecure,
Their age ftands more expos'd to accidents
Than ours, nor common care their fate prevents:
Death's force (with terror) against nature strives
Nor one of many to ripe age arrives:

From this ill fate the world's diforders rife,
For if all men were old they would be wife;
Years and experience our forefathers taught,
Them under laws, and into cities brought :
Why only fhould the fear of death belong
To age, which is as common to the young?
Your hopeful brothers, and my fon, to you
(Scipio) and me, this maxim makes too true:
But vigorous youth may his gay thoughts erect
To many years, which age must not expect;
But when he fees his airy hopes deceiv'd;
With grief he fays, Who this would have believ'd?
We happier are than they, who but defir'd
To poffefs that, which we long fince acquir'd.
What if our age to Neftor's could extend?
"Tis vain to think that lafting, which must end;
And when 'tis paft, not any part remains
Thercof, but the reward which virtue gains.
Days, months, and years, like running waters flow,
Nor what is paft, nor what's to come, we know:
Our date, how fhort foe'er, must us content;
When a good actor doth his part prefent,
In every act he our attention draws,
That at the last he may find just applause;
So (though but short) yet we must learn the
Of virtue, on this stage to act our part;
True wifdom muft our actions fo direct,
Not only the last plaudit to expect:
Kk

Yet grieve re more, though long that part fhould | The great Marcellus (who reftored Rome)

laft,

Than husbandmen, because the fpring is paft. The fpring, like youth, fresh bloffoms doth produce,

But autumn makes them ripe, and fit for use:
So age a mature mellownefs doth fet
On the green promises of youthful heat.
All things which nature did ordain are good,
And fo must be receiv'd and undertood.
Age, like ripe apples, on earth's bofom drops,
While force our youth, like fruits untimely, crops;
The Sparkling flame of our warm blood expires,
As when huge ftreams are pour'd on raging fires;
But age unforc'd falls by her own confent,
As coals to afhes, when the fpirit's fpent;
Therefore to death I with fuch joy refort,
As feamen from a tempeft to their port.
Yet to that port ourfelves we must not force,
Before our pilot, nature, fteers our courfe.
Let us the caufes of our fear condemn,
Then death at his approach we shall contemn.
Though to our heat of youth our age feems
cold,

Yet, when refolv'd, it is more brave and bold.
Thus Solon to Pififtratus reply'd,
Demanded, on what fuccour he rely'd,
When with fa few he boldly did engage;
He faid, he took his courage from his age.
Then death feems welcome, and our nature kind,
When leaving us a perfe& fenfe and mind,
She (like a workman in his fcience skill'd)
Pulls down with cafe, what her own hand did
build.

That art which knew to join all parts in one,
Makes the leaft violent feparation.

Yet though our ligaments betimes grow weak, We must not force them till themselves they break.

Pythagoras bids us in our flation stand,
Till God, our general, fhall us difband.
Wife Solon dying, wifh'd his friends might grieve,
That in their memories he still might live.
Yet wifer Ennius gave command to all
His friends, not to bewail his funeral;
Your tears for fuch a death in vain you spend,
Which strait in immortality fhall end.
In death if there be any fenfe of pain,
But a fhort space, to age it will remain.
On which, without my fears, my wishes wait,
But timorous youth on this fhould meditate :
Who for light pleasure this advice rejects,
Finds little, when his thoughts he recollects.
Our death (though not its certain date) we know;
Nor whether it may be this night or no:
How then can they contented live, who fear
A danger certain and none knows how near.
They err, who for the fear of death difpute,
Our gallant actions this mistake confute.
Thee, Brutus, Rome's first martyr Luft name,
The Curtii bravely div'd the gulph of flame :
Attilius facrific'd himself, to fave

That faith, which to his barbarous foes he gave;
With the two Scipio's did thy uncle fall,
Rather than fly from conquering Hannibal.

His greateft foes with honour did intomb.
Their lives how many of our legions threw
Into the breach? whence no return they knew:
Muft then the wife, the old, the learned, fear
What not the rude, the young, th' unlearn'd

forbear?

Satiety from all things elfe doth come,
Then life muft to itself grow wearifome.
Thofe trifles wherein children take delight
Grow naufeous to the young man's appetite;
And from thofe gaieties our youth requires
To exercife their minds, our age retires.
And when the last delights of age fhall die,
Life in itself will find fatiety.

Now you, my friends, my fenfe of death fhall hear
Which I can well defcribe, for he ftands near.
Your father, Lælius, and your's, Scipio,
My friends, and men of honour, I did know;
As certainly as we must die, they live
That life which juftly may that name receive:
Till from thefe prifons of our flesh releas'd,
Our fouls with heavy burthens lie opprefs'd;
Which part of man from heaven falling down,
Earth, in her low abyfs, doth hide and drown,
A place fo dark to the cœleftial light,
And pure eternal fire's quite oppofite.
The Gods through human bodies did difperfe
An heavenly foul, to guide this universe;
That man, when he of heavenly bodies faw
The order, might from thence a pattern draw:
Nor this to me did my own dictates fhow,
But to the old philofophers I owe.

I heard Pythagoras, and thofe who came
With him, and from our country took their name;
Who never doubted but the beams divine,
Deriv'd from Gods, in mortal breafts did fhine.
Nor from my knowledge did the ancients hide
What Socrates declar'd, the hour he dy'd;
He th' immortality of fouls proclaim'd,
(Whom th' oracle of men the wifeft nam'd.)
Why should we doubt of that, whereof our sense
Finds demonftration from experience?

Our minds are here, and there, below, above;
Nothing that's mortal can fo fwiftly move.
Our thoughts to future things their flight direct,
And in an inflant all that's paft collect.
Reafon, remembrance, wit, inventive art,
No nature, but immortal, can impart.
Man's foul in a perpetual motion flows,
And to no outward caufe that motion owes;
And therefore that, no cnd can overtake,
Because our minds cannot themselves forfake.
And fince the matter of our foul is pure,
And fimple, which no mixture can endure
Of parts, which not among themfelves agree;
Therefore it never can divided bc.
And nature fhews (without philofophy)
What cannot be divided, cannot die.
We ev'n in carly infancy difcern,

Knowledge is born with babes before they learn;
Ere they can fpeak, they find fo many ways
To ferve their turn, and fee more arts than days:
Before their thoughts they plainly can exprefs,
The words and things they know are numberless,

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