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Wrongs and outrages to do,

Appear'd not half so bright, Lest men should think we owe.

But cast a weaker light, Such monsters, Theron! has thy virtue found : Through earth, and air, and seas, and up to th' Eut all the malice they profess,

heavenly vault. Thy secure honour cannot wound;

“ To thee, O Proserpine ! this isle I gire," For thy vast bounties are so numberless,

Said Jove, and, as he said, That them or to conceal, or else to tell,

Smil'd, and bent his gracious head. Is equally impossible !

"And thou, O isle!” said he, “ for ever thrive,
And keep the value of our gift alive!

As Heaven with stars, so let
THE FIRST NEMÆAN ODE OF The country thick with towns be set,

And, numberless as stars,

Let all the towns be then Chromius, the son of Agesidamus, a young Replenish'd thick with men,

gentleman of Sicily, is celebrated for having Wise in peace, and bold in wars! won the prize of the chariot-race in the Ne- Of thousand glorious towns the nation, mæan games, (a solemnity instituted first to Of thousand glorious men each town a concclebrate the funeral of Opheltes, as is at

stellation ! large described by Statius; and afterwards Nor let their warlike laurel scorn continued every third year, with an extraor- With the Olympic olive to be worn, dinary conflux of all Greece, and with incredi- Whose gentler honours do so well the brows of ble honour to the conquerors in all the exerci

Peace adorn!" ses there practised) upon which occasion the Go to great Syracuse, my Muse, and wait poet begins with the commendation of his

At Chromius' hospitable gate ; country, which I take to have been Ortygia,

"Twill open wide to let thee in, (an island belonging to Sicily, and a part of Syracuse, being joined to it by a bridge) Joy, plenty, and free welcome, dwells within

When thy lyre's voice shall but begin ; though the title of the Ode call him Ætnæan The Tyrian beds thou shalt sind ready drest, Chromius, perhaps because he was made go- The ivory table crowded with a feast : vernor of that town by Hieron. From thence The table which is free for every guest, he falls into the praise of Chromius's person, No doubt will thee admit, which he draws from his great endowments of And feast more upon thee, than thou on it. mind and body, and most especially from his

Chromius and thou art met aright, hospitality, and the worthy use of his riches.

For, as by Nature thou dost write, He likens his beginning to that of Hercules ; So he by Nature loves, and does by Nature fight. and, according to his usual manner of being transported with any good hint that meets him Nature herself, whilst in the womb he was, in his way, passing into a digression of Her. Sow'd strength and beauty through the forming cules, and his slaying the two serpents in his

mass; cradle, concludes the Ode with that history.

They mov'd the vital lump in every part,

And carv'd the members out with wondrois art BEAUTEOUS Ortygia! the first breathing-place She fill'd his mind with courage, and with wit,

Of great Alpheus' close and amorous race ! And a vast buimty, apt and fit Fair Delos sister, the childbed

For the great dower which Fortune made to it, Of bright Latona, where she bred

'Tis madness, sure, treasures to hoard, Th' original new Moon!

And make them useless, as in inines, remain, Who saw'st her tender forehead ere the horns To lose th’occasion Fortune does afford were grown!

Fame and public lore to gain : Who, like a gentle scion newly started out,

Evn for self-concerning ends, From Syracusa's side dost sprout !

"T'is wiser much to hoard-up friends. Three first my song does greet,

Though happy men the present goods possess, With numbers smooth and feet

Th’ unhappy have their share in future hopes bo As thine own horses' airy feet,

less. When they young Chromius'chariot drew,

How early bas young Chromius begun And o'er the Nemæan race triumphant flew.

The race of virtue, and how swiftly run, Jove will approve my song and me;

And borne the noble prize away, Jove is concern'd in Nemea, and in thee.

Whilst other youths yet at the barriers stay! With Jove my song; this happy man,

None but Alcides e'er set earlier forth than he: Young Chromius, too, with Jove began; The god, his father's blood, nought could From hence came his success,

restrain, Nor ought he therefore like it less,

'Twas ripe at first, and did disdain Snce the best fame is that of happiness; The slow advance of dull humanity. For whom should we esteem above

The big-limb'd babe in bjs huge cradle lay, The men whom gods do love?

Tuo weighty to be rock'd by nurses' hands, 'Tis them alone the Muse too does approve.

Wrapt in purple swaddling-bands; Lo! how it makes this victory shine

When, lo! by jealous Juno's fierce commands, O'er all the fruitful isle of Proserpine !

Two dreadful serpents come,
The torches which the mother brought Rolling and hissing loud, into the room;
When the rarish'd maid she sought,

To the bold babe they trace their bidden way;

Forth from their flaming eyes dread lightnings

Pindar's unnavigable song went ;

Like a swoln flood from some steep mountain heir gaping mouths did forked tongues, like

pours along; thunderbolts, present.

The ocean meets with such a voice, Some of th' amazed women dropt down dead

From his enlarged mouth, as diowns the ocean's With fear, some wildly fed

noise. About the room, some into corners crept, So Pindar does net words and figures roll Where silently they shook and wept:

Down his impetuous dithyrambic tide, All naked from her bed the passionate mother

Which in no channel deigns t'abide, leap'd,

Which neither banks nor dykes control : To save or perish with her child;

Whether th’iminortal gods he sings, She trembled, and she cry'd; the mighty infant In a no less immortal strain, smil'd:

Or the great acts of god-descended kings,
The mighty infant seem'd well pleas'd Who in his muinbers still survive and reign;
At his gay gilded foes;

Each rich-embroider'd line,
And, as their spotted necks up to the cradle rose, Which their triumphant brows around,
With his young warlike hands on both he seiz'd : By his sacred hand is bound,

In vain they rag'd, in vain they hissid, Does all their starry diadems outshine.
In vain their armed tails they twist,

Whether at Pisa's race he please
And angry circles cast about;

Tocarve in polish'd verse the conqueror's images; Black blood, and fiery breath, and poisonous" Whether the swift, the skilful, or the strong, soul, he squeezes out!

Be crowned in his nimble, artful, vigorons song; With their drawn swords

Whether some brave young man's untimely fate, In ran Ampbitryo and the Theban lords;

In words worth dying for, he celebrateWith doubting wonder, and with troubled joy, Such mournful, and such pleasing words, They saw the conquering boy

As joy to his mother's and his mistress' grief afLaugh, and point downwards to his prey,

fordsWhere, in death's pangs and their own gore, they

He bids him live and grow in fame; folding lay.

Among the stars be sticks his name; When wise Tiresias this beginning knew,

The grave can but the dross of him devour, He told with ease the things t'ensne;

So small is Death's, so great the poet's power! From what monsters he should free

Lo, how th’ obsequious wind and swelling air The earth, the air, and sea;

The Theban swan does upwards bear What mighty tyrants he should slay, Into the walks of clouds, where he does play, Greater monsters far than they ;

And with extended wings opens his liquid way! How much at Phlægra's field the distrest gods Whilst, alas! my timorous Muse should owe

Unambitious tracts pursues ;
To their great offspring here below;

Does with weak, unballast wings,
And how his club should there outdo

About the mossy brooks and springs, Apollo's silver bow, and his own father's thunder About the trees' new-blossom'd heads,

About the gardens' painted beds, And that the grateful gods, at last,

About the fields and flowery meads, The race of his laborious virtue past,

And all inferior beauteous things,

Like the laborious bee,
Heaven, which he sar'd, should to him give;
Where, marry'd to eternal youth, he should for

For little drops of boney flee,
ever live;

And there with bumble sweets, contents her in. Dripk nectar with the gods, and all his senses

In their barmonious, golden palaces;

Walk with ineffable delight
Through the thick groves of never-withering light, Nor showers to earth, more necessary bez

Nor winds to voyagers at sea,
And, as he walks, affright
The Lion and the Bear,

(Heaven's vital seed cast on the womb of Earth Bull, Centaur, Scorpion, all the radiant monsters

To give the fruitful Year a birth)

Than Verse to Virtue; which can do
The midwife's office and the nurse's too ;

It feeds it strongly, and it clothes it gay,

And, when it dies, with comely pride

Embalms it, and erects a pyramid

That never will decay
Pindarum quisquis studet æmulari, &c. Till Heaven itself shall melt away,
Pixdar is imitable by none;

And nought behind it stay.
The phenix Pindar is a vast species alone. Begin the song, and strike the living lyre;
Who e'er but Dædalus with waxen wings could fly, Lo! how the Years to come, a numerous and
And neither sink too low nor soar too high?

well-fitted quire, What could he who follow'd claim,

All hand in hand do decently advance, But of vain boldness the unhappy fame, And to my song with smooth and equal meaAnd by his fall a sea to name?

sures dance ! TOL- yil.


Whilst the dance lasts, how long soe'er it be, Figures, Conceits, Raptures, and Seitences,
My music's voice shall bear it company ;

in a well-worded dress; Till all gentle notes be drown'd

And innocent Loves, and pleasant Truths, and In the last trumpet's dreadful sound :

useful Lies, That to the spheres themselves shall silence In all their gaudy liveries.

Untune the universal string : [bring, Mount, glorious queen! thy travelling throng,
Then all the wide-extended sky,

And bid it to put on;
And all th' barmonious worlds on high, For long, though cheerful, is the way,
And Virgil's sacred work shall die ;

And lite, alas! allows but one ill winter's day.
And he himself shall see in one fire shine
Rich Nature's ancient Troy, though built by Where never foot of man, or hoof of beast,

The passage press'd; hands divine.

Where never fish did fly, Whom thunder's dismal noise,

And with short silver wings cut the low liquid sky; And all that prophets and apostles louder spake,

Where bird with painted oars did ne'er And all the creatures' plain conspiring voice,

Row through the trackless ocean of the air; Could not, whilst they liv'd, awake,

Where never yet did pry
This mightier sound shall make

The busy Morning's curious eye;
When dead t’arise;

The wheels of thy bold coach pass quick and free, And open tombs, and open eyes,

And all's an open road to thee;

Whatever God did say,
To the long sluggards of five thousand years !
This mightier sound shall make its hearers ears.

Is all thy plain and smooth uninterrupted way! Then shall the scatter'd atoms crowding come

Nay, ev'n beyond his works thy voyages are Back to their ancient bome;


Thou hast thousand worlds too of thine own. Some from birds, from fishes some; Some from earth, and some from seas;

Thou speak'st, great queen! in the same style

as he; Some from beasts, and some from trees; Some descend from clouds on high,

And a new world leaps forth when thou say'st,

“Let it be." Some from meta's upwards fly, And, where th’attending soul naked and shiver. Thou fathom'st the deep gulf of ages past, ing stands,

And canst pluck up with ease Meet, salute, and join their hands;

The years which thou dost please; As dispers'd soldiers, at the trumpet's call,

Like shipwreck'd treasures, by rude tempests Haste to their colours all.

cast Unbappy most, like tortur'd men,

Long since into the sea, Their joints new set, to be new-rack'd again,

Brought up again to light and public use by thee, To mountains they for shelter pray,

Nor dost thou only dive so low, The mountains shake, and run about no less con

But fly fus'd than they.

With an unwearied wing the other way on high,

Where Fates among the stars do grow;
Stop, stop, my Muse! allay thy vigorous heat,
Kindled at a hint so great ;

There into the close nests of Time dost peep, Hold thy Pindaric Pegasus closely in,

And there, with piercing eye, Which dors to rage begin,

Through the firm shell and the thick white, dost

spy And this steep hill would gallop up with violent

Years to come a-forming lie,
course ;
Tis an unruly and a hard-inouth'd horse,

Close in their sacred fecundine aslerp,
Fierce and unbroken yet,

Till hatch'd by the Sun's vital heat,
Impatient of the spur or bit;

Which o'er them yet dues brooding set, Now prances stately,and anon flies o'er the place;

They life and motion get, Disdains the servile law of any settled pace,

And, ripe at last, with vigorous might Conscious and proud of his own vatural force:

Break through the shell, and take their everlast. "Twill no utskilful touch endure,

ing flight! But fings writer and acader too, that sits not And sure we may

The same too of the present say,
If past and future times do thee obey.

Thou stop'st this current, and dost make

This running river settle like a lake;

Thy certain hand holds fast this slippery snake : Go, the rich chariot instantly prepare ;

The fruit which does so quickly waste, The queen, my Muse, will take the air :

Men scarce can see it, much less taste, Unruly Fancy with strong Judgment trace; Thou comfitest in sweets to make it last, Put in nimble-footed Wit,

This shining piece of ice, Smooth-pac'd Eloquence join with it;

Which melts so soon away Sound Memory with young Invention place;

With the Sun's ray, Harness all the winged race:

Thy verse does solidate and crystallize, Let the postillion Nature mount, and let

lill it a lasting mirror be! The coachinan Art be set;

Nay, thy iinmortal rhyme
And let the airy footmen, running all beside, Makes this one short point of time
Make a long row of goodly pride,

To till up half the orb of round eternity.


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That all the wardrobe of rich Eloquerce Vast bodies of philosophy

Could have afforded half enough, I oft have seen and read;

Of bright, of new, and lasting stuff, But all are bodies dead,

To cloathe the mighty limbs of thy gigantic Sense, Or bodies by art fashioned ;

Thy solid reason, like the shield from Heaven I never yet the living soul could see,

To the Trojan hero given, But in thy books and thee!

Too strong to take a mark from any mortal dart, 'Tis only God can know

Yet shines with gold and gems in every part, Whether the fair idea thou dost show

And wonders on it grav'd by the learn'd land of Agree entirely with his own or no.

A shield that gives delight

[Art! This 1 dare boldly tell,

Evîn to the enemies' sight, 'Tis so like truth, 'twill serve our turn as well!

Then, when they 're sure to lose the combat by't. Just, as in Nature, thy proportions be,

Nor can the snow, which now cold Age does shed As full of concord their variety,

Upon thy reverend head, As firm the parts upon their centre rest,

Quench or allay the noble fires within ; And all so solid are, that they, .at least

But all which thou hast been, As much as Nature, emptiness detest.

And all that youth can be thou 'rt yet!

So fully still dost thou Long did the mighty Stagyrite retain

Enjoy the manhood and the bloom of Wit, The universal intellectual reign,

And all the natural heat, but not the fever too ! Saw his own country's short-liv'd leopard slain;

So contraries on Etna's top conspire; The stronger Roman eagle did out-fly,

Here hoary frosts, and by them breaks out fire! Oftener renew'd his age, and saw that die.

A secure peace the faithful neighbours keep; Mecca itself, in spite of Mahomet, possest,

Th’ embolden'd snow next to the flame does sleep! And, chac'd by a wild deluge from the East,

And if we weigh, like thee, His monarchy new planted in the West.

Nature and causes, we shall see But, as in time each great imperial race

That thus it needs must be Degenerates, and gives some new one place:

To things immortal, Time can do no wrong, So did this noble empire waste,

And that which never is to die, for ever must be Sunk by degrees from glories past,

young. And in the school-men's hands it perish'd quite at

Then nought but words it grew, [last:

And those all barbarous too:
It perish’d, and it vanish'd there;

[ty air !

DESTINY. The life and soul, breath'd out, became but emp

Hoc quoque fatale est sic ipsum expendere The fields, which answer'd well the ancients'


Manil. plough,

Strange and unnatural! let's stay and see Spent and out-won, return no harvest now; In barren age wild and unglorious lie,

This pageant of a prodigy. And boast of past fertility,

Lo, of themselves th’enliven'd Chess-men move! The poor relief of present poverty.

Lo, the unbred, ill-organ'd pieces piove Food and fruit we now must want,

As full of art and industry, Unless new lands we plant

Of courage and of policy,

swe! We break-up tombs with sacrilegious hands;

As we ourselves, u ho think there's nothing wise but Old rubbish we remove ;

Here a proud Pawn I admire, To walk in ruins, like rain ghosts, we love,

That, still advancing higher, And with fond divining wands

At top of all became

Another thing and name;
We search among the dead
For treasures buried;

Here I'm amaz'd at th' actions of a Knignt, Whilst still the liberal Earth does hold

That does bold wonders is the fight; So many virgin-mines of undiscover'd gold.

Here I the losing party blame,

For those false moves that break the game, The Baltic, Euxine, and the Caspian,

That to their grave, the bag, the conquer'd And slender-limb’d Mediterranean,

pieces bring, Seem narrow creeks to thee, and only fit And, above all, th' ill-conduct of the Mated For the poor wretched fisher-boats of wit:

king. Thy nobler vessel the vast ocean tries, And nothing sees but seas and skies,

“Whate'er these seem, whate'er philosophy Till unknown regions it descries.

And sense or reason tell,” said I, Thou great Colambus of the golden lands of new

“ These things have life, election, liberty; philosophies !

"Tis their own wisdom moulds their state, Thy task was harder much than his;

Their faults and virtues make their fate. For thy learn’d America is

They do, they do," said I ; but straight, Not only found out first by thee,

Lo! from my enlighten'd eyes the mists and And rudely left to future industry;

shadows fell, But thy eloquence and thy wit,

That hinder spirits from being visible; Has planted, peopled, built, and civiliz'd it.

And, lo! I saw two angels play'd the Mate,

With man, alas! no otherwise it proves; I little thought before,

An unseen band makes all their moves; (Nor, being my own self so poor,

And some are great, and some are small, Could comprehend so vast a store)

Some climb to good, some from goud-Fortune fall;

Some wise-men, and some fools, we call; But as her beams reflected pass Figures, alas! of speech, for Destiny plays us Through our own Nature or Ill-custom's glass: all.

As 'tis no wonder, so,

If with dejected eye
Me from the womb the midwife Muse did take:
She cut my navel, wash'd me, and mine head

In standing pools we seek the sky,
With her own hands she fashioned ;

That stars, so bigh above,should seem to us below. She did a covenant with me make, (spake : Can we stand by and see And eircumcis'd my tender soul, and thus she Our mother robb’d, and bouad, and rarish'd be, “ Thou of my church shalt be;

Yet not to her assistance stir, Hate and renounce,” said she, [me. Pleas'd with the strength and beauty of the ra. “Wealth, honour, pleasures, all the world, for Or shall we fear to kill him, if before [visher! Thou neither great at court, nor in the war,

The cancell'd name of friend he bore? Nor at th' exchange, shalt be, nor at the wrang- Ingrateful Brutus do they call ? ling bar:

Ingrateful Cæsar, who could Rome enthrall ! Content thyself with the small barren prajse, An act more barbarous and unnatural That neglected verse does raise.”

(In th’exact balance of true virtue try'd) She spake, and all my years to come

Than his successor Nero's parricide!
Took their unlucky doom.

There 's none but Brutus could deserve Their several ways of life let others chuse,

That all men else should wish to serve, Their several pleasures let them use,

And Cæsar's usurp'd place to him should proffer;. But I was born for love, and for a Muse.

None can deserve't but he who would refuse the

With Fate what boots it to contend?
Such I began, such am, aud so must end. Ill Fate assum'd a body thee t'affright,
The star that did my being frame,

And wrap'd itself i'th'terrours of the night: Was but a lambent flame,

“I'll meet thee at Philippi," said the sprite ; And some small light it did dispense,

“ I'll meet thee there," saidst thou, But neither heat nor influence.

With such a voice, and such a brow,
No matter, Cowley! let proud fortune see, As put the trembling ghost to sudden flight;
That thou canst her despise no less than she does It vanish'd, as a taper's light

Let all her gifts the portion be [thee. Goes out when spirits appear in sight.
Of Folly, Lust, and Flattery,

One would have thought 't had heard the mome Fraud, Extortion, Calumny,

ing crow, Murder, Infidelity,

Or seen her well-appointed star Rebellion and Hypocrisy;

Come marching up the eastern hill afar. Do thou not grieve, nor blush to be,

Nor durst it in Philippi's field appear, As all th' inspired tuneful men,

But, unseen, attack'd thee there: And all thy great forefathers, were, from Homer Had it presum'd in any shape thee to oppose, down to Ben.

Thou wonld'st have forc'd it back upon thy foes:

Or slain 't, like Cæsar, though it be

A conqueror and a monarch mightier far than he, Excellent Brutus ! of all human race

What joy can human things to us afford, The best, till Nature was improv'd by Grace;

When we sce perish thus, by odd events, Till men above themselves Faith raised more

Iil men, and wretched accidents, [sword?

The best cause and best man that ever drew a Than Reason above beasts before.

When we see
Virtue was thy life's centre, and from thence
Did silently and constantly dispense

The false Octavius and wild Antony,
The gentle, vigorous influence

God-like Brutus! conquer thee?. To all the wide and fair circumference;

What can we say, but thine own tragic word And all the parts upon it lean'd so easily,

That Virtue, which had worship'd been by thee Obey'd the mighty force so willingly,

As the most solid good, and greatest deity, 'That none could discord or disorder see

By this fatal proof became In all their contrariety:

An idol only, and a name, Each had his motion natural and free,

Hold, notle Brutus! and restrain And the whole no more mor'd, than the whole The bold voice of thy generous disdain : world, could be.

These mighty gulphs are yet

Too deep for all thy judgment and thy wit. From thy strict rule some think that thou didst The time's set forth already which shall quell

Stiff Reason, when it offers to rebel; (Mistaken, honest men !) in Cæsar's blood;

Which these great secrets shall upscal, What mercy could the tyrant's life deserve

And new pbilosophies reveal: From him, who kill'd himself rather than serve?

A few years more, so soon hadst thou not dy'd, Th' heroic exaltations of good

Would have confounded human Virtue's pride, Are so far from understood,

And show'd thee a God crucify'd.
We count them vice : alas ! our sight's so ill,
That things which swiftest move seem to stand
We look not upon Virtue in her height,


[still : On her supreme idea, brave and bright, How long, alas! has our mad nation beca In the original light;

Of epidemic war the tragic scene,


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