« 上一頁繼續 »
For, though a firmly settled-peace On either side dwells Safety and Delight; May shortly make your public labour cease, Wealth on the left, and Power upon the right. The grateful nation will with joy consent,
T' assure yet my defence on either hand, That in this sense you should be said, Like mighty forts, in equal distance stand (Though yet the name sounds with some Two of the best and stateliest piles which e'er dread)
Man's liberal piety of old did rear;
My neighbours and my guards, watch and com
My warlike guard of ships, wbich farther lie, ON THE QUEENS REPAIRING
Might be my object too, were not the eye
Stopt by the houses of that wondrous street, SOMERSET HOUSE.
Which rides o'er the broad river like a fleet. When God (the cause to me'and men unknown)
The stream's eternal siege they fixt abide, Forsook the royal houses, and his own,
And the swoln stream's auxiliary tide, And buth abandon d to the common foe,
Though both their ruin with joint power conspire, How near to ruin d my glories go!
Both to out-brave, they nothing dread but fire. Nothing reinain:d t'adorn this princely place
And here my Thames, though it more gentle
be Which covetous hands could take, or rude deface.
Than any flood so strengthen'd by the sea, In all my rooms and galleries I found
Finding by art his natural forces broke, The richest figures torn, and all around
And bearing, captive-like, the arched yoke, Dismember'd statues of great heroes lay;
Does roar, and foam, and rage, at the disgrace Such Naseby's field seem'd on the fatal day !
But re-composes straight, and calms his face ; And me, when nought for robbery was left,
Is into reverence and submission strook, They starv'd to death : the gaspiug walls were
As soon as from afar he does but look cleft,
Tow'rds the white palace where that king does The pillars sunk, the roofs above me wept,
reign, No sign of spring, or joy, my garden kept ;
Who lays his laws and bridges o'er the main. Nothing was seen which could content the eye,
Amidst these louder honours of my seat; Till dead the impious tyrant here did lie.
And two vast cities, troublesomely great, See bow my face is chang'd, and what I am
In a large various plain the country too Since my true mistress, and now foundress,
Opens her gentler blessings to my view : camne!
lu me the active and the quiet mind, It does not fill her bounty to restore
By different ways, cqual content may find. Me as I was (nor was I sinall beforej:
If any prouder virtuoso's sense She im'tates the kindness to her shown ;
At that part of my prospect take offence, She does, like Heaven, (which the dejected throne
By which the meaner cabbins are descry'd, At once restores, fixes, and higher rears)
of my imperial river's humbler side Strengthen, enlarge, exalt, what she repairs.
If they call that a blemish-let them know, And now I dare, (though proud I must not be,
God, and my godlike mistress, think not so; Whilst my great mistress I so humble see
For the distress'd and the afficted lie In all her various glories) now I dare
Most in their care, and always in their eye. Ev’n with the proudest palaces compare.
And thou, fair River! who still pay'st to me My beauty and convenience will, I'm sure,
Just homage, in thy passage to the sea, Su just a boast with modesty endure;
Take here this one instruction as thou go'stAnd all must to me yield, when I shall tell
When thy mix't waves shall visit every coast; . How I am plac d, and who does in me dwell.
When round the world their voyage they shall Before my gate a street's broad channel gries,
make, Which still with waves of crowding people flows;
And back to thee some secret channels take; And every day there passes by my side,
Ask them what nobler sight they e'er did meet, Up to its western reach, the London tide,
Except thy mighty master's sovereign floet, The spring-tides of the term : my front looks
Which now triumphant o'er the main does ride, down
The terrour of all lands, the ocean's pride. On all the pride and business of the town;
From hence his kingdoms, happy now at last, My other front (for, as in kings we see
(Happy, if wise by their misfortunes past!) The livel est image of the Deity,
From hence may omens take of that success We in their houses should Ileaven's likeness sind,
| Which both their future wars and peace shall Where nothing can be said to be behind)
bless. My other fair and more majestic face
The peaceful mother on mild Thames does build; (Who can the fair to more advantage place?)
With her son's fabrics the rougb sea is fill'd. For ever gazes on itself below, In the best mirror that the world can show.
And here behold, in a long bending row, How two joint cities make one glorious bow !
THE COMPLAINT. The midst, the noblest place, possess'd by me, Iy a deep vision's intellectual scene, Best to be seen by all, and all o'er-see!
Beneath a bower for sorrow made,
Th' uncomfortable shade
Wixt with the mourning willow's careful grey, But then, alas ! to thee alone,
For every tree and every herb around
With pearly dew was crown'd, (The Muses oft in lands of vision play)
And upon all the quicken'd ground Body d, array'd, and seen, by an internal light. The fruitful seed of Heaven did brooding lie, A golden harp with silver strings she bore; And nothing but the Muse's fleece was dry. A wondmus hieroglyphic robe she wore,
It did all other threats surpass, In which all colours and all figures were,
When God to his own people said That Nature or that Fancy can create,
(The men whom through long wanderings he had That Art can never imitate;
led) And with loose pride it wanton'd in the air. ,
That he would give them evin a heaven of In such a dress, in such a well-cloth'd dream,
brass : She us'd, of old, near fair Ismenus' stream, They look'd up to that Heaven in vain, Pindar, her Theban favourite, to meet;
That bounteous Heaven, which God did not reA crown was on her head, and wings were on her
Upon the most unjust to shine and rain. She touch'd him with her harp, and rais'd him
| “The Rachel, for which twice seven years and more from the ground;
Thou didst with faith and labour serve, The shaken strings melodiously resound.
J.And didst (if faith and labour can) deserve, “ Art thou return'd at last,” said she,
Though she contracted was to thee, " To this forsaken place and me?
Given to another thou didst see; Thou prodigal! who didst so loosely waste
Given to another, who had store Of all thy youthful years the good estate;
Of fairer and of richer wives before, Art thou return'd here, to repent too late,
And not a Leah left, thy recompense to be! And gather husks of learning up at last,
Go on; twice seven years more thy fortune try; Now the rich harvest time of life is past,
Twice seven years more God in his bounty may And Winter marches on so fast?
Give thee, to fling away
But think how likely 'tis that thou,
With the dull work of thy unwieldy plough, Had to their dearest children done;
Should'st in a hard and barren season thrive, When I resolv'd t'exalt thy anointed name,
Should'st even able be to live; Among the spiritual lords of peaceful fame;
| Thou, to whose share so little bread did fall, Thou, Changeling! thou, bewitch'd with noise and I In that miraculous year, when manna rain'd on
show, Would'st into courts and cities from me go; Would'st see the world abroad, and have a share | Thus spake the Muse, and spake it with a smile, la all the follies and the tumults there:
That seem'd at once to pity and revile. Thou would'st, forsooth, be something in a state, | And to her thus, raising his thoughtful head, And business thou would'st find, and would'st The melancholy Cowley said create;
“ Ah, wanton foe! dost thou upbraid Business! the frivolous pretence
The ills which thou thyself bast made! Of human lusts, to shake off ionocence;
When in the cradle innocent I lay, Business! the grave impertinence;
Thou, wicked spirit! stolest me away, Business! the thing which I of all things hate; And my abused soul didst bear Business! the contradiction of thy fate,
Into thy new-found worlds, I know not where,
Thy golden Indies in the air; “ Go, renegado! cast up thy account,
And ever since I strive in vain
My ravish'd freedom to regain;
Still I rebel, still ihou dost reign; The sale of knowledge, faine, and liberty, .
Lo! still in verse against thee I complain. . The fruits of thy unlearn'd apostacy.
There is a sort of stubborn weeds, Thou thought'st, if once the public storm were | Which, if the earth but once, it ever, breeds: past,
No wholesome herb can near them thrive, All thy remaining life should sunshine be:
No useful plant can keep alive: Behold! the public storm is spent at last,
The foolish sports I did on thee bestow, The sovereign's tost at sea no more,
Make all my art and labour fruitless now; And thou, with all the noble company,
Where once such fairies dance, no grass doth ever Art got at last to shore.
grow. But, whilst thy fellow voyagers I see . All march'd up to possess the promis'd land,
• When my new mind had no infusion known, Thou, still alone, alas! dost gaping stand
Thou gav'st so deep a tincture of thine own, Upon the naked beach, upon the barren sand ! That ever since I vainly try
To wash away th' inherent dye: “ As a fair morning of the blessed spring, Iong work perhaps may spoil thy colours quitc, After a tedious stormy night,
But never will reduce the native white: Such was the glorious entry of our king;
To all the ports of bonour and of gain, Enriching inoisture drop'd on every thing:
I often steer my course in vain; Plenty he sow'd below, and cast about him light! Thy gale comes cross, and drives me back again.
Thou slack'oest all my nerves of industry,
ON THE DEATH OF
MRS. KATHARINE PHILIPS.
Cruer Disease! ah, could not it suffice
Thy old and constant spite to exercise
Against the gentlest and the fairest sex,
Which still thy depreslations most do vex?
Where still thy malice most of all Myself a demi-rotary to make.
(Thy malice or thy lust) does on the fairest fall ? Thus, with Sapphira and her husband's fate,
And in them most assault the fairest place, (A fault which I like them, am taught too late) The throne of empress Beauty, ev'n the face? For all that I gave up I nothing gain,
There was enough of that here to assuage, And perish for the part which I retain.
(One would have thought) either thy lust or “Teach me not then, I thou fallacious Mu !!
rage. The court, and better king, t'accuse :
Was 't not enough, when thou, prophane Disease! The heaven under which I live is fair,
Didst on this glorious temple seize? The fertile soil will a full harvest bear :
Was't not enough, like a wild zealot, there, Thine, thine is all the barrenness ; if thou
All the rich outward ornaments to tear, Mak'st me sit still and sing, when I should
Deface the innocent pride of beauteous images ?
Was 't not enough thus rudely to defile, plough. When I but think how many a tedious year
But thou must quite destroy, the goodly pile? Our patient sovereign did attend
And thy unbounded sacrilege commit His long misfortunes' fatal end;
On th’inward holiest holy of her wit ? How cheerfully, and how exempt from fear,
Cruel Disease! there thou mistook'st thy power, On the Great Sovereign's will he did depend;
No mine of Death can that devour ; I ought to be accurst, if I refuse
On her embalmed name it will abide To wait on his, O thou fallacious Muse!
An everlasting pyramid, Kings have long hands, they say; and, though I | As high as Heaven the top, as Earth the basis
wide. So distant, they may reach at length to me. | All ages past record, all countries now, However, of all the princes, thou
In various kinds such equal beauties show, Should'st not reproach rewards for being small That ev'n judge Paris would not know or slow ;
On whom the golden apple to bestow;
Women and lovers would appeal from it:
This is the sovereign face.
And some (though these be of a kind that's rare, COLONEL TUKE'S TRAGI-COMEDY,
That's much, ah, much less frequent than the THE ADVENTURES OF FIVE
So equally renown'd for virtue are,
That it the mother of the gods might pose,
When the best woman for her guide she chose. Take in just wars a rich plate-fleet of Spain,
But if Apollo should design The rude unshapen ingots they reduce
A woman laureat to make, Into a form of beauty and of use;
Without dispute he would Orinda take, On which the conqueror's image now does shine,
Though Sappho and the famous Nine Not his whom it belong'd to in the mine:
Stood by, and did repine. So, in the mild contentions of the Muse,
To be a princess, or a queen,
IIs great: but 'tis a greatness always seen: (The war which Peace itself loves and pursues) So have you home to us in triumph brought
| The world did never but two women know, This cargazon of Spain with treasures fraught.
Who, one by fraud, th other by wit, did riso You have not basely gotten it by stealth,
To the two tops of spiritual dignities; Nor by translation borrow'd all its wealth;
One female pope of old, one female poet now, But by a powerful spirit made it your own; of female poets, who had names of old, Metal before, money by you 'tis grown.
Nothing is shown, but only told, 'Tis current now, by your adorning it " And all we hear of them perhaps may be With the fair stamp of your victorious wit. Male-flattery only, and male-poetry. But, though we praise this voyage of your | Few minutes did their beauty's lightning wasteg
The thunder of their voice did longer last, And though ourselves enrich'd by it we find;
But that too soon was past. We're not contented yet, because we know | The certain proofs of our Orinda's wit What greater stores at home within it grow, In her own lasting characters are writ, We've seen how well you foreign ores refine; And they will long my praise of them survive, Produce the gold of your own nobler mine:
Though long perhaps, too, that may live. The world shall then our native plenty view, The trade of glory, manag'd by the pen, And fetch materials for their wit from you; | Though great it be, and every where is found, They all shall watch the travails of your pen, / Does bring in but small profit to us men; And Spain on you shall make reprisals then, I 'Tis, by the number of ti.e sharers, drown'd,
Orinda, on' the female coasts of Fame,
And skill in painting, dost beston, · Engrosses all the goods of a poetic name; Upon thy ancient arms, the gaudy heavenly She does no partner with her see;
bow. Does all the business there alone, which we .
Swift as light thoughts their empty career run, Are forc'd to carry on by a whole company.
Thy race is finish'd when began; But wit's like a luxuriant vine;
Let a post-angel start with thee, Unless to virtue's prop it join,
And thou the goal of Earth shalt reach as soon'a3 Firm and erect towards Heaven bound;
he. Though it with beauteous leaves and pleasant Thou in the Moon's bright chariot,proud anul gay, fruit be crown'd,
Dust thy bright wood of stars survey; It lies, deform’d and rotting, on the ground.
And all the year dost with thee bring Now shame and blushes on us all,
Of thousand flowery lights thine own nocturnal Who our own sex superior call ! Orinda does our boasting sex out-do,
spring. Not in wit only, but in virtue too:
Thou, Scythian-like, dost round thy lands above She does above our best examples rise,
The Sun's gilt tents for ever move, In hate of vice and scorn of vanities.
And still, as thou in pomp dost go, Never did spirit of the manly make,
The shining pageants of the world attend thy And dip'd all o'er in Learning's sacred lake,
show. A temper more invulnerable take.
Nor amidst all these triumphs dost thou scorn No violent passion could an entrance find
The humble glow-worms to adorn, Into the tender goodness of her mind :
And with those living spangles gild Through walls of stone those furious bullets may (O greatness without pride !) the bushes of the Force their impetuous way;
field. When her soft breast they hit, powerless and
Night, and her ugly subjects, thon dost fright, dead they lay!
And Sleep, the lazy owl of night; The Fame of Friendship, which so long had told
Asham'd, and fearful to appear, Of three or four illustrious names of old,
They screen their horrid shapes with the black Till hoarse and weary with the tale she grew,
hemisphere. Rejoices now t' have got a new, A new and more surprizing story,
With them there hastes, and wildly takes in' Of fair Lucasia's and Orinda's glory.
alarm, As when a prudent man does once perceive
Of painted dreams a busy swarı : That in some foreign country he must live,
At the first opening of tbine eye The language and the manners he does strive
The various clusters break, the antic atoms fls. To understand and practise here,
The guilty serpents, and obscener beasts, That he may come no stranger there :
Creep, conscious, to their secret rests: So well Orinda did herself prepare,
Nature to thee does reverence pay, In this much different clime, for her remove Ill omens and ill sights removes out of thy way. To the glad world of Poetry and Love.
At thy appearance, Grief itself is said
To shake his wings, and rouse his head :
And cloudy Care has often took
A gentle beamy smile, reflected froin thy look.
At thy appearance, Fear itself grows bold;
Thy sun-shine melts away his colui. From the old Negro's darksojne womb!
Encourag'd at the sight of thee, Which, when it saw the lovely child,
To the cheek colour comes, and firmness to the The melancholy mass put on kind looks and knee. smil'd;
Ev'n Lust, the master of a harden'd face, Thou tide of glory, which no rest dost know,
Blushes, if thou be'st in the place, But ever ebb and ever flow !
To Darkness' curtains he retires; Thou golden shower of a true Jove!
In sympathizing night he rolls his smuky fires. Who does in thee descend, and Heaven to Earth When, goddess ! thou lift'st up thy waken'd make love! I
head, Hail, a tive Nature's watchful life and health!
Out of the morning's purple bed, Her joy, her ornament, and wealth!
Thy quite of birds about thee play . Hail to tby husband, Heat, and thee! And all the joyful world salutes the rising day. Thou the world's beauteous bride, the lusty The ghosts, and monster-spirits, that did presume bridegroom be!
A body's privilege to assume, Say froin what golden quivers of the sky
Vanish again invisibly, Do all thy winged arrows fly?
And bodies gain again their visibility.
All the world's bravery, that delig'ı s our eres,
Thou the rich dye on them bestow'st, "Tis, I believe, this archery to show,
Thy nimbie pencil paints this landscape as thou i hat so much cost in colours thou,
A crimson garment in the rose thou wear'st; i Instead of carrying him to see • A crown of studded gold thou bear'st;
The riches which do hoarded for him lie The virgin-lilies, in their white,
In Nature's endless treasury, Are clad but with the lawn of almost naked light.
They chose his eye to entertain
(His curions but not covetous eye) The violet, Spring's little infant, stands
With painted'scenes and pageants of the brain. Girt in thy purple swaddling-bands
Some few exalted spirits this latter age has On the fair tulip thou dost doat;
shown, Thou cloth’st it in a gay and party-colour'd coat. That labour'd to assert the liberty w.th flame condens'd thou do'st thy jewels fix, | (From guardians who were now usurpers grown) And solid colours in it mix:
| Of this old minor still, captiv'd Philosophy; Flora herself envies to see
But 'twas rebellion call’d, to fight Flowers fairer than her own, and durable as she. For such a long-oppressed right,
Bacon at last, a mighty man, arose, Ab, goddess ! would thou could'st thy hand with
(Whom a wise king, and Nature, chose, hold,
Lord chancellor of both their laws) And be less liberal to gold !
And boldly undertook the injur'd pupil's cause. Didst thou less value to it give, Of how much care, alas ! might'st thou poor man
Authority-which did a body boast, relieve!
Though 'twas but air condens'd, and stalk'd
about, To me the Sun is more delightful far,
Like some old giant's more gigantic ghost, And all fair days much fairer are.
To terrify the learned rout But few, ah! wondrous few, there be,
With the plain magic of true Reason's lightWho do not guld prefer, O goddess ! ev'n to thee. | He chas' d out of our sight: Through the soft ways of Heaven, and air,and sea, Nor suffer'd living men to be inisled Which open all their pores to thee,
By the vain shadows of the dead: Like a clear river thou dost glide,
To graves, from whence it rose, the conquer'd And with thy living stream through the close phantom fled. channels slide.
He broke that monstrous god which stood
In midst of th' orchard, and the whole did claim; But, where firm bodies thy free course oppose, Gently thy source the land o'erflows;
Which with a useless scythe of wood,
And something else not worth a name,
(Both vast for show, yet neither fit Of colours mingled light, a thick and standing
Or to defend, or to beget; lake.
Ridiculous and senseless terrours !) made But the vast ocean of unbounded day,
Children and superstitious men afraid. 1 In th' empyräan Heaven does stay.
The orchard's open now, and free,
Behold the ripen'd fruit, come gather now your
Yet still, methinks, we fain would be
Catching at the forbidden tree-
We would be like the DeityOf all that human knowledge which has been When truth and falsehood, good and evil, we, Unforfeited by man's rebellious sin,
Without the senses' aid, within ourselves would Though full of years he do appear,
see; (Philosophy, I say, and call it he,
For 'lis God only who can find For, whatsoe'er the painter's fancy be,
All Nature in his mind. It a male-virtue seems to me)
From words, which are but pictures of the Ilas still been kept in nonage till of late,
thought, Nor manag'd or enjoy'd his vast estate. Three or four thousand years, one would have
(Though we our thoughts from them perverseiy
To things, the mind's right object, he it brought: To ripeness and perfection might have brought
| Like foolish birds, to painted grapes we flew; A science so well bred and nurst,
He sought and gather'd for our use the true; And of such hopeful parts too at the first :
And, when on heaps the chosen banches lay, But, oh! the guardians and the tutors, then
He prest them wisely the mechanic way, . (Some negligent and some ambitious men)
Till all their juice did in one vessel join, Would ne'er consent to set him free,
Ferment into a nourishment divine, Or his own natural powers to let him see,
The thirsty soul's refreshing wine.
Much less content himself to make it like
In his own fancy or his memory.
The natural and living faces,