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“O see, Constantia! my short race is run;
THE TRAGICAL HISTORY OF See how my blood the thirsty ground doth dye;
PYRAMUS AND THISBE.
More my short time permits me not to tell,
TO THE RIGHT WORSHIPFUL, MY VERY LOVING MASTEP. well !"
MR. LAMBERT OSBOLSTON,
CHIEF SCHOOL-MASTER OF WESTMINSTER SCHOOL.
d now each eve. I SIR, Which was so bright, is like, when life was My childish Muse is in her spring, and yet done,
Can only show some budding of her wit. A star that's fall'n, or an eclipsed sun.
Onc frown upon her work, learn'd sir, from you, Thither Pbilocrates was driven by Fate,
Like some unkinder storm shot from your brow, And saw his friend lie bleeding on the earth;
Would turn her spring to withering autumn's time, Near his pale corpse his weeping sister sate,
And make her blossoms perish ere their prime. Her eyes shed tears, her heart to sighs gave
But if you smile, if in your gracious eye birth.
She an auspicious alpha can descry, Philocrates, when he saw this, did cry,
How soon will they grow fruit ! how fresh appear! “Friend, I'll revenge, or bear thee company!
That had such beams their infancy to chear!
Which being sprung to ripeness, expect then « Just Juve hath sent me to revenge his fate;
The earliest offering of her grateful pen. Nay, stay, Guisardo, think not Heaven in jest:
Your most dutiful scholar, 'Tis vain to hope night can secure thy state." Then thrust his sword into the villain's breast.
ABR. COWLEY. “Here," said Philocrates, “ thy life I send
A sacrifice, t'appease my slaughter'd friend." But, as he fell, “ Take this reward," said he, ,
PYRAMUS AND THISBE. « For thy new victory.” With that he fung
WHEN Babylon's high walls erected were. His darted rapier at his enemy,
By mighty Ninus' wife, two houses join'd: Which hit his head, and in his brain-pan hung.
One Thisbe liv'd in, Pyramus the fair With that he falls, but, lifting up bis eyes,
In the other: Earth ne'er boasted such a pair! “ Farewell, Constantia !” that word said, he
The very senseless walls themselves combin'd, dies.
And grew in one, just like their master's mind. What shall she do ? She to her brother runs,
Thisbe all other women did excel,
The queen of lore less lovely was than she:
And Pyramus more sweet than tongue can tell ; And with her kisses warms his clammy face. “My dear Philocrates !” she, weeping, cries,
Nature grew proud in framing them so well. “Speak to thy sister !” but no voice replies.
But Venus, envying they so fair should be,
Bids her son Cupid show his cruelty.
The all-subduing god his bow doth bend, “O stay, blest soul, stay but a little here,
Whets and prepares his most remorseless dart, And take me with you to a lasting rest.
Which he unseen unto their hearts did send, Then to Elysium's mansions both shall fly,
And so was Love the cause of Beauty's end.
But could he see, he bad not wrought their smart; Be married there, and never more to die."
For pity sure would have o'crcome his heart. But, seeing them both dead, she cry'd, “ Ah me! Ah, my Philctus ! for thy sake will I
Like as a bird, which in a net is ta'en, Make up a full and perfect tragedy :
By struggling more entangles in the gin; Sime 'twas for me, dear love, that thou didst
So they, who in Love's labyrinth remain, die,
With striving never can a freedom gain. I'll follow thce, and not thy loss deplore;
• The way to enter's broad; but, being in, These cyes, that saw thee kill'd, shall see no
No art, no labour can an exit win. more.
These lovers, though their parents did reprove “ It shall not sure be said that thou didst die,
Their fires, and watched their deeds with jealousy; And thy Constantia live when thou wast slain :
Though in these storms no comfort could remove No, no, dear sonl! I will not stay from thee;
The various doubts and fears that cool hot love; That will reflect upon any valued fame."
'Though he nor her's, nor she his face could see, Then piercing ber sad breast,“ I come !" she
Yet this could not abolish Love's decree ; cries, i
Por age bad crack'd the wall which did them part; And Death for ever clos'd her weeping eyes. This the unanimous couple soon did spy, Her soul being Ard to its eternal rest,
And here their inward sorrows did impart, Her father comes, and, secing this, he falls
Unlading the sad burthen of their heart. To th' earth, with grief too great to be exprest:
Though Love be blind, this shows he can descry Whose coletul wor's my tired Muse me calls
A way to lessen bis own misery.
Of odoriferous breath; no other sport
So she, who fetcheth lustre from their sight, They could enjoy ; yet think the time but short, Doth purpose to destroy their glorious light. And wish that it again renewed were,
Unto the mulberry-tree fairThisbe came; To suck each other's breath for cver there.
Where having rested long, at last she 'gan Sometimes they did exclaim against their fate, Against her Pyramus for to exclaim, Au sometimes they accus'd imperial Jove; Whilst various thoughts turmoil her troubled brain: Sometimes repent their fames ; but all too late; And, imitating thus the silver swan, The arrow could not be recall'd: their state
A little while before her death, she sang:
Come, lore! why stavest thou ? the night And by their tears could understand their smart: Will vanish ere we taste delight:
But it was hard and knew not what they meant, The Moon obscures herself froin sight,
Thou absent, whose eyes give her light.
Or we by Morn shall be,o'erta'en; Brea's thorough all thy flinty cruelty !
Love's joy's thine own as well as mine; For both our souls so closely joined lie,
Spend not therefore the time in rain. That nought but angry Death can them remove;
| HERE doubtful thoughts broke off her pleasant And though he part them, yet they'll meet
And for her lover's stay sent many a sigh;
Her Pyramus, she thought, did tarry long, Abortive tears from their fair eyes out-flow'd,
And that his absence did her too much wrong. And damm'd the lovely splendour of their sight,
Then, betwixt longing hope and jealousy, Which seem'd like Titan, wh lst some waterv cloud
She fears, yet's loth to tax, his loyalty. O'erspreads his face, and his bright beams duth
Sometimes she thinks that he hath her forsaken; shroud ; Till Vesper chas'd away the conquer'd light, Sometimes, that danger hath befallen him : And forced them (though loth) to bid good
She fears that he another love hath taken; night.
Which, being butimagin'd, soon doth waken
Numberless thoughts, which on her heart did Bet ere Aurora, usher to the day,
Fears, that her future fate too truly sing. [fling Began with welcome lustre to appear,
While she thus musing sat, ran from the wood The lovers rise, and at that cranny they Thus to each other their thoughts open lay,
An angry liun to the crystal springs, With many a sigh and many a speaking teai;
| Near to that place; who coming from his food, Whose grief the pitying Morning blusht to hear.
His chaps were all besmear'd with crimson blood :
Swifter than thought, sweet Thisbe strait begius “ Dear love!” said Pyramus, “ how long shall we,
To fly from himn; fear gave her swallows' wings. Like fairest flowers not gather'd in their prime, Waste precious youth, and let advantage fee,
As she avoids the lion, her desire Till we bewail (at last) our cruelty
Bids her to stay, lest Pyramus should come, l'pon ourselves ? for beauty, though it shine And be devour'd by the stern lion's ire, Like day, will quickly find an evening-time. So she for ever burn in unquench'd fire : .
But fear expels all reasons; she doth run “ Therefore, sweet Thisbe, let us meet this night
Into a darksome cave, ne'er seen by sun.
For mounting love, stopt in its course, doth fall, With bloody teeth be tore in pieces small;
For, could the senseless beast her face descry, “ What though our cruel parents angry be?
It had not done her such an injury.
The night half wasted, Pyramus did come;
Who, seeing printed in the yielding sand Who lets slip Fortune, her shall never find ; The lion's paw, and by the founta 'n some Occasion, once pass'd by, is bald behind.” Of Thisbe's garment, surrow struck bim dumb;
Just like a marble statue did he stand,
Cut by some skilful graver's artful hand
Recovering breath, at Fate he did exclaim, Which Venus seeing, with blind Chance conspir'd, Washing with tears the torn and bloody weed : And many a charining accent to her sent,
“ I may,” said he," myself for her death blaine; That she (at last) would frustrate their intent. Therefore my blood shall wash away that shame:
Since she is dead, whose beauty doth exceed Thus Beauty is by Beauty's means undone, Striving to close those eyes that mak her bright; !
All that frail man can either hear or read.” Just like the Moon, which seeks t'ec ipse the Sun, This spoke, he drew his fatal sword, and said. Whence all her splendor, all her beams, do come: “ Receive my criinson blood, as a due delt
Unto thy constant love, to which 'tis paid :
And on his love he rais'd his dying head : I strait will meet thee in the pleasant shade Where, striving long for breath, at last, said he, Of cool Elysium ; where we, being met,
“ Thisbe, lam hasting to the dead, Shall taste those joys that here we could not get.” And cannot heal that wound my fear hath bred : Then through his breast thrusting his sword, life hies
I Farewell, sweet Thishe! we must parted be, From him, and he makes haste to seek his fair:
For angry Death will force me soon from thee.” And as upon the colour'd ground he lies,
Life did from him, he from his mistress, part, His blood had dropt upon the mulberries;
Leaving his luve to languish here in woe. - With which th' unspotted berries stained were, What shall she do? How shall she ease her heart? .
And ever since with red they colour'd are, Or with what language speak her inward smart? At last fair Thisbe left the den, for fear
Usurping passion reason doth verflow, Of disappointing Pyramus, since she
She vows that with her Pyramus she'll go : Was bound by promise for to meet him there : Then takes the sword wherewith her love was slain, But when she saw the berries changed were
With Pyramus's crimson blood warm still ; From white to black, she knew not certainly And said, “Oh stay, blest soul, awhile refrain, It was the place where they agreed to be.
That we may go together, and remain With what delight from the dark cave she came,
In endless joys, and never fear the ill Thinking to tell how she escap'd the beast!
Of grudging friends !”—Then she herself did kill. But, when she saw her Pyramus lie slain,
To tell what grief their parents did sustain, Ah ! how perplex'd did her sad soul remain !
Were more than my rude quill can overcome; She tears her golden hair, and beats her breast, Much did they weep and grieve, but all in vain, And every sign of raging grief exprest.
For weeping calls not back the dead again. She blames all-powerful Jove ; and strives to take
Both in one grave were laid, when life was done ; His bleeding body from the moisten'd ground.
And these few words were writ upon the tomb:
UNDERNEATH this marble stone, found.
Lie two beauties join'd in one.
Two, whose loves deaths could not sever; But afterwards, recovering breath, said she,
For both liv'd, both dy'd together. " Alas! what chance hath parted thee and I ?
Two, wbuse souls, being too divine O tell what evil hath befall’n to thee,
For earth, in their own sphere now shine,
Tell Thisbe what hath caus'd this tragedy !" Who have left their loves to fame,
DE FELICI PARTU REGINÆ MARIÆ.? | A te sic vinci magnus quàm gau leat ille! :
Vix hostes tanti vel superâsse fuit.
Jam tua plus vivit pictura ; at proxima fiet
Regis, et in methodo te peperisse juvat.
O bona conjugii concors discordia vestri !
O sancta hæc inter jurgia vetus amor!
Non Caroli puro respirans vultus in auro Nos sine lætitiæ strepitu, sine murmurc læti :
Tam populo (et notum est quàm placet ille) Ipsa dies novit vix sibi verba dari.
placet. Cum corda arcanâ saltant festiva chorea,
Da veniam, hic omnes nimium quòd simus avari; Cur perle vel tellus trita frequente sonet ?
Da veniam, hic animos quòd satiare nequis. Quidve bibat Regi, quam perdit turba, salutem ?
Cúmque (sed ô nostris fiat lux serior annis)
In currum ascendas læta per astra tuum,
Natorum in facie tua viva et mollis imago
Non minus in terris, quàm tua sculpta, regat. Quæ fiunt pompâ gaudia vera sua. VICisti tandem, vicisti, casta Maria;
Abrahamus Cowley, T[rin). C[oll}, Cedit de sexu Carolus ipse suo.
7 From the EYNDAIA, sive Musarum Cantabrigiensium Consentus et Congratulatio, ad serenissimum Britanniarum Regem Carolum, de quinta sua sobole (Princess Anne), clarissima Principe, sibi nuper felicissimmè nata. Cantabrigiæ, 1637. I doubt not but it will prove a pleasing amusement to the curious reader, to trace the first dawnings of genins in some of our first-rate poetic characters; and to compare thein with the eminence they afterwards attained to, and the rank they at last held among their brethren of the laurel. Some early speciinens of Dryden's genius may be seen in the first volume of his poems. Those of Cowley, here printed, abound with strokes of wit, some true, but the far greater part false ; which thoroughly characterise the writer, and may be justly pronounced to point out his genius and manner, in miniature. K.-This species of entertainment the kind attention of Mr. Kynaston (the friend to whom I owe these remarks) enabl's me considerably to extend, by furnishing the earliest poetical productions of some writers who are now universally looked up to as excellent; none of which are to be found in any edition of their respective works. In such juvenile performances, it is well observed by an admirable critic, “the absurd conceits and extravagant fancies are the true seeds and germs, which afterwards ripen, by proper culture, into the most luxuriant harvests.” See Annual Register, 1779, p. 130. J. N.
IN FELICISSULAM REGINÆ MARIÆ, | Leave off then, London, to accuse the starres
For adding a worse terrour to the warres;
Nor quarrel with the fleavens, 'cause they beginne NATURÆ facies renovatur quolibet anno,
To send the worst effect and scorge of sinne, Et sese mirùm fextilis ipsa parit.
| That dreadfull plague, which wheresoe're 'r abide, Sic quoque Naturæ exemplar Regina, decusque, Devours both man and each disease beside. In fætu toties se videt ipsa novam,
For every life which from great Charles does flow, Penè omnem signas tam sæpè puerpera mensem, And 's female self, weighs down a crowd of low Et cupit à partu nomen habere tuo.
And vulgar souls : Fate rids of them the Earth, Quæque tuos toties audit Lucina labores,
To make more room for a great prince's birth. Vix ipsa in proprio sæpiùs Orbe tumet.
So when the Sunne, after his watrie rest, Fecundam semper spectabis Jane, Mariam, Comes dancing from his chamber of the east, Sive hâc sive illâ fronte videre voles.
A thousand pettie lamps, spread ore the skie, Discite, subjecti, officium : Regina Marito Shrink in their doubtfull beams, then wink, and die: Annua jam toties ipsa tributa dedit.
Yet no man gvieres; the very birds arise,
And sing glad notes in stead of elegies :
The leaves and painted flowers, which did erewhile
Tremble with mournfull drops, beginne to smile. Non mirum, existat cùm proximus ipse Tonanti, · Vicinum attingunt quòd citò veta Deum.
The losse of many why should they bemone, Non mirum, cùm sit tam sanct â mente precatus,
Who for them more than many have in one? Quòd precibus merces tam properata venit.
How blest mnst thou thy self, bright Mary, be, Factura ô longùm nobis jejunia frstum!
Who by thy wombe can'st blesse our miscrie? O magnas epulas exhibitura fames !
May 't still be fruitful! May your offspring too En fundunt gemitum et lacrymarum flumina; tur
Spread largely, as your fame and virtues do! Cum Reginâ ipsam parturiisse putes. [bam
Fill every season thus : Time, which devours
It's own sonnes, will be glad and proud of yours. Credibile est puerum populi sensisse dolores;
So will the year (though sure it weari'd be,
With often revolutions) when 't shall see
| Joy to return into it self again.
A. Cowley, A. B. T[rin) C[oll} UPON THE HAPPIE BIRTH OF THE
AN ELEGY .. duth call,
ON THE DEATH OP THE RIGHT HONOURABLE DUDLEY Whilst warre is fear'd, and conquest hop'd by all,
LORD CARLETON, VISCOUNT DORCHESTER, LATE The sererall shires their various forces lend,
PRINCIPAL SECRETARY OF STATE.
Of all the fiends, to the black Stygian hall;
Begot by dismal Erebus and Night, Who shall henceforth be with such rage possest, Where'er dispers'd abroad, hearing the fame To rouse our English lion from his rest?
Of their accursed meeting, thither caine. When a new sonne cloth his blest stock adom, Revenge, whose greedy mind no blood can fill, Then to great Charles is a new armie born.
And Envy, never satisfyd with ill: Ivy private births liopes challenge the first place: Thither blind Boldness, and impatient Rage, There's certaintie at first in the king's race; Resorted, with Death's neighbour, envious Age. And we may say, Such will his glories be,
These, to oppress the Farth, the Furies sent': Such bis great acts, and, yet not prophesie.
The counc:l thus dissolv'd, an angry Fever, I see in him his father's boundlesse sprite,
Whose quenchless thirst by blood was sated never, Powerfullas flame, yet gentle as the light.
Envying the riches, honour, greatness, love, I see him through an adverse battle thrust,
And virtue (load-stone, that all these did move) Bedeck'd with noble sweat and comely dust.
Of noble Carleton, him she took away, I see the pietje of the day appeare,
And, like a greedy vulture, seiz'd her prey. Joyn'd with the heate and valour of the yeare, Weep with me, each who either reads or hears, Which happie Fate did to this birth allow : And know his loss deserves his country's tears! I see all this; for sure 'tis present now.
The Muses lost a patron by his fate,
Virtue a husband, and a prop the State. • From the Voces Votivæ ab Academicis Can- Sol's chorus weeps, and, to adorn his hearse, tabrigiensibus pro novissimo Caroli et Mariæ Prin- Calliope would sing a tragic verse. sipe Filio, emissæ. Cantabrigiæ, 1640.
And, had there been before no spring of theirs, 9 Henry, who was declared by his father duke of. They would have made a Helicon with tears. Gloucester in 1641, but not so created till May 13,
ABR. COWLEY. 1659. He died September 13, 1660.--The Verses are taken from the Yoses Votivæ, &c. 1640. * Something is here wanting, as appears from J. N.
the want both of rhyme and connection. J. N.