ePub 版

S Y L V A:






UM more antiquo jejunia festa coluntur,

Et populum pascit religiosa fames,
Quinta beat nostram soboles formosa Mariam :

Pere iterum nobis, læte December, ades.
Ite, quibus lusum Bacchusque Ceresque ministrant,

Et risuin vitis lacryma rubra movet.
Nos sine lætitiæ strepitu, sine murmurc læti :

Ipsa dies novit vix sibi verba dari.
Cum corra arcanâ saltant festiva choreå,

Cur perle vel tellus trita frequente sonet ?
Quidve bibat Regi, quam perdit turba, salutem ?

Sint mea pro tanto sobria vota viro.
Crede mihi, non sunt, non sunt ea gaudia vera,

Quæ fiunt pompa gaudia vera sua.
Vicisti tandem, vicisti, casta Maria;

Cedit de sexu Carolus ipse suo.

A te sic vinci magnus quàm gan leat ille!

Vix hostes tanti vel superâsse fuit.
Jam tua plus vivit pictura; at proxima siet

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
Tam populo (et notum est quàm placet ille)

Da veniam, hîc omnes nimium quòd simus avari;

Da veniam, hîc animos quòd satiare nequis.
Cúmque (sed ô nostris fiat lux serior annis)

In carrum ascendas læta per astra tuum,'
Natorum in facie tua viva et mollis imago
Non minus in terris, quàm tua sculpta, regat.

Abrahamus Cowley, T'[rin). Coll},

[ocr errors]

? From the EYN2011, sive Musarum Cantabrigiensium Consentus et Congratulatio, ad serenissimum Britanniarum Regem Carolum, de quinta sua sobole [Princess Anne), clarissiina 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 them 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) enables 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 inost luxuriant harvests." See Annual Register, 1779, p. 180. J. N.

IN FELICISSIMAM REGINE MARIE, / Leave off then, London, to accuse the starreg FERTILITATEM8.

For adding a worse terrour to the warres ;

Nor quarrel with the Heavens, 'cause they beginne Naturæ facies renovatur qnolibet anno,

To send the worst effect and scorge of sinne, Et sese mirùm fextilis ipsa parit.

That dreadfull plague, which wheresoe're't 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, Fæcundam semper spectabis Jane, Mariam, Comes dancing from bis 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 grieres; the very birds arise, Dum redit à sanctis non fessus Carolus acis,

And sing glad notes in stead of elegies : Principis occurit nuntia fama novi.

The leares and painted flowers, which did erewhile Non mirum, existat cùm proximus ipse Tonanti,

Tremble with mournfull drops, beginne to smile. Vicinum attingunt quòd cito vota Déum.

The losse of many why should they bensone, Non mirum, cùm sit tam sanctâ mente precatus,

Who for them more than many have in one ? Quòd precibus merces tam properata tenit.

How blest must thou thy self, bright Mary, be, Factura ô longùm nobis jejunia festum !

W}) by thy wombe can'st blesse our miserie? O mamas epulas exhibitura fames !

May 't still be fruitful! May your offspring too En fundunt gemitum et lacrymarum flumina; tur- Spreal largely, as your fame and virtues do !

Fill Cum Reginâ ipsam parturiisse putes.


erery season thus: Time, which devours Credibile est puerum populi sensisse dolores;

It's own sonnes, will be glad and proud of yours. Edidit hinc mæstos flebilis ipse sonos.

So will the year (though sure it weari'd be

With often revolutions) when 't shall see
A. Cowley, A. B. T[rin). C[oll.] The honour by such births it doth attain,

Joy to return into it self again.

A. Cowley, A. B. T[rin). C[oll}, UPON THE HAPPIE BIRTH OF THE

Whilst the rude North Charles his slow wrath

doth call,
Whilst warre is fear'd, and conquest hop'd by all,
The severall sbires their various forces lend,

And some do men, some gallant horses send,
Some steel, and some (the stronger weapon) gold: Tw' infernal sisters did a council call
These warlike contributions are but old.

Of all the fiends, to the black Stygian hall; That countrey learu'd a new and better way, The dire Tartarian monsters, hating light, Which did this myall prince for tribute pay. 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 came. When a new sonne doth his blest stock adorn, Revenge, whose greedy mind no blood can fill, Then to great Charles is a new armie born.

And Envy, never satisfy'd with ill : In private births hopes 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 Earth, the Furies sent": Such bis great acts, and, yet not prophesie. The council thus dissolv'd, an angry Fever, I see in him his father's boundlesse sprite,

Whose quenchless thirst by blood was sated never, Powerfullas fame, 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 pietie 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 Voces Votivæ, &c. 1640. Something is here wanting, as appears from J. N.

the want both of rhyme and connection. J. N.





Distilling honey; here doth nectar pass,

With copious current, through the verdant grass : ON THE DEATH OF MY LOVING FRIEND

Here Hyacinth, his fate writ in his looks,
MR. RICHARD CLARKE, GENT. And thou, Narcissus, loving still the brooks,

Once lovely boys! and Acis, now a flower,

Are nourish'd with that rarer herb, whose power It was decreed by stedfast Destiny

Created thee, War's potent god ! here grows (The world from chausturn'd!) that all should die, The spotless lily and the blushing rose; He who durst feariess pass black Acheron,

And all those divers ornaments abound, And dangers of th' internal region,

That variously inay paint the gaudy ground. Leading Hell's triple porter captivate,

No willow, Sorrow's garland, there hath room, Was overcome himself by conquering Pate.

Nor cypress, sad attendant of a tomb. The Roman Tully's pleasing eloquence,

None but Apollo's tree, and th’ivy twine Which in the ears did lock up every sense

Embracing the stout oak, the fruitful vine, Of the rapt hearer; his mellituous breath

And trees with golden apples loaded down,
Could not at all charm unremorseless Death;

On whose fair tops sweet Philomel alone,
Nor Solon, so by Greece admir'd, could save Unmindful of her former misery,
Himself, with all his wisdom, from the grave.

Tunes with her voice a ravishing harmony;
Stern Fate brought Moro to his funeral name,

Whilst all the murmuring brooks that glide along. And would have ended in that fire his fame;

Make up a burthen to her pleasing song. Burning those lofty lines, which now shall be No screech-owl, sad companion of the night; Time's conquerors, and out-last eternity.

No hideous raven with prodigions flight, Even so lov'd Clarke from death no’scape could find, Presaging future ill; nor, Progne, thee, Though arm'd with great Alcides' valiant mind. Yet spotted with young Itis' tragedy, He was adorn'd, in years though far more young,

Those sacred bowers receive. There's nothing thera With learn'd Cicero's, or a sweeter tongue.

That is not pure; all innocent and rare. And, could dead Virgil hear his lofty strain,

Turning my greedy sight another way, He would condemn his own to fire again.

Under a row of storm contemning bay, His youth a Solon's wisdom did presage,

I saw the Thracian singer with his lyre Had envious Time but giv'n him Solon's age.

Teach the deaf stones to hear him and admire. Who would not therefore now, if Learning's friend, Him the whole poets' chorus compass'd round, Bewail his fatal and untimely end ?

All whom the oak, all whom the laurel crown'd. Who hath such hard, such unrelenting eyes,

There banish'd Ovid had a lasting home, As not to weep when so much virtue dies ?

Better than thou could'st give, ungrateful Rome! The god of poets doth in darkness shrowd

And Lucan (spite of Nero) in each vein Jlis glorious face, and weeps behind a cloud.

Had every drop of his spilt blood again: The doleful Muses thinking now to write

Homer, Sol's first-born, was not poor or blind, Sad elegies, their tears confound their sight: But saw as well in body as in mind. But him t' Elysium's lasting joys they bring,

Tolly, grave Cato, Solon, and the rest
Where winged angels bis sad requiems sing.

Of Greece's admir'd wise-men, here possest
A large reward for their past deeds, and gain
A life as everlasting as their fame.

By these the valiant heroes take their place;

All who stern Death and perils did embrace

For Virtue's cause. Great Alexander there PHEdus, expell’d by the approaching night, Laughs at the Earth's small empire, and did wear Blush'd, and for shame clos'd in his bashful light, A nobler crown than the whole world could give: While I, with Icaden Morpheus overcome,

There did Horatius, Cocles, Scera, live, The Muse whom I adore enter'd the room :

And valiant Decius; who now freely cease Her hair with looser curiosity

From war, and purchase an eternal peace. Did on her comcly back dishevell’d lie:

Next them, beneath a myrtle bower, where doves Her eyes with such attractive beauty shone, And gall-less pigeons build their nests, all Love's As might have wak'd sleeping Endymion.

True faithful servants, with an amorous kiss She bade me rise, and promis'd I should see And soft embrace, enjoy their greediest wish. Those fields, those mansions of felicity,

Leander with his beauteous Hero plays, We mortals so admire at: speaking thus,

Nor are they parted with dividing seas: She lifts me up upon wing'd Pegasus,

Porcia enjoys her Brutus ; Death no more On whom I rid; knowing, wherever she

Can now divorce their wedding, as before: Did go, that place must needs a temple be.

Thisbe her Pyramus kiss'd, his Thisbe he No sooner was my flying courser come

Embrac'd, each bless'd with t'other's company: To the blest dwellings of Elysium,

And every couple, always dancing, sing When strait a thousand unknown joys resort, Eternal pleasures to Elysium's king. And hemm'd me round , chaste Love's innocuous | But see how soon these pleasures fade away! sport!

How near to evening is Delight's short day! A thousapd sweets, hought with no following gall, The watching bird, true nuncius of the light, Joys, not like ours, short, but perpetua).

Strait crowd; and all these vanish'd from my sight: How many objects charm my wandering eye, My very Muse herself forsook me too. And bid my soul gaze there eternally!

Me grief and wonder wak'd : what should I do? Here in full streams, Bacchus, thy liquor flows, Oh ! let me follow thee (said I) and go Nor knows to ebb; here Jove's broad tree bestows From life, that I may dream for ever so.

With that my flying Muse I thonght to clasp Yet he retums, and with his ligắt
Within my arms, but did a shadow grasp.

Espels what he hath caus'd--the night,
Thus chiefest joys glide with the swiftest stream, What though the Spring vanish away,
And all our greatest pleasure's but a dreain. And with it the Earth's forn decay?

Yet his new-birth will soon restore

What its departure took before.

What though we miss'd our absent king

Awhile? great Charles is come again;
Grcat Charles !—there stop, ye trumpeters of

And with his presence makes us know

The gratitude to Heaven we owe.
For he who speaks his titles, his great name,

So doth a cruel storm impart Must have a breathing time our king :-stay there;

And teach us Palinurus' art : Speak by degrees ; let the inquisitive ear

So from salt foods, wept by our eyes,
Be held in doubt, and, ere you say

" is

A joyful Venus doth arise.
Let every heart prepare a spacious room
For ample joys: then lö sing, as loud
As thunder shot from the divided cloud!

A vote.
Let Cygnus pluck from the Arabian waves
The ruby of the rock, the pearl that paves Lest the misjudging world should chanceto say
Great Neptune's court : let every sparrow bear

I durst not but in secret murmurs pray ; From the three Sisters' weeping bark a tear :

To whisper in Jove's ear Let spotted lynxes their sharp talons fill

How much I wish that funeral, With crystal, fetch'd from the Promethean hill:

Or gape at such a great one's fall; Let Cytherea's birds fresh wreaths compose,

This let all ages hear, Knitting the pale-fac'd lily with the rose:

And future times in my soul's picture see
Let the self-gotten phenix rob his nest,

What I abhor, what I desire to be.
Spoil his own funeral pile, and all his best
Of myrrh, of frankincense, of cassia, bring, I would not be a puritan, though he
To strew the way for our returned king!

Can preach two hours, and yet his sermon be
Let every post a panegyric wcar,

But half a quarter long; Each wall, each pillar, gratulations bear: Though, from his old mechanic trade, And yet, let no man invocate a Muse;

By vision he's a pastor made, The very matter will itself infuse

His faith was grown so strong; A sacrel fury: let the merry bells

Nay, though he think to gain salvation (For unknown joys work unknown miracles) By calling th' pope the Whore of Babylon. Ring without help of sexton, and presage

I would not be a school-master, though he A new-made holy-day for future age!

His rods no less than fasces deems to be; And, if the ancients us'l to dedicate

Though he in many a place A golden teinple to propitious Fate,

Turns Lilly oftener than his gowns, At the return of any noble men,

Till at the last he make the nouns Of heroes, or of emperors, we must then

Fight with the verbs apace; Raise up a double trophy; for their fame

Nay, though he can, in a poetic heat,
Was but the shadow of our Charles's name.

Figures, born since, out of poor Virgil beat.
Who is there where all virtues mingled now,
Where no defects or imperfections grow?

I would not be justice of peace, though he
Whose head is always crown'd with victory, Can with equality divide the fee,
Snatch'd from Bellona's hand; him Luxury

And stakes with his clerk draw;
In peace debilitates : whose tongue can win

Nay, though he sits upon the place Tully's own garland, Pride to him creeps in. Of judgment, with a learned face On whom (like Atlas' shoulders) the propt state

Intricate as the law; (As he were primum mobile of Fate)

And, whilst he mulets enormities demurely, Solely relies; him blind Ambition moves ;

Breaks Priscian's head with sentences securely. His tyranny the bridled subject proves.

I would not be a courtier, though he But all those virtues which they all possest Makes bis whole life the truest comedy, Divided, are collected in thy breast,

Although he be a man Great Charles ! Let Cæsar boast Pharsalia's fight, In whom the taylor's forming art, Honorius praise the Parthian's unfeign'd flight: And nimble barber, claim more part Let Alexander call himself Jove's peer,

Than Nature herself can;
And place his image near the thunderer;

Though, as he uses men, 'tis his intent
Yet while our Charles with equal balance reigas To put off Death too with a compliment.
'Twixt Mercy and Astrea, and maintains
A noble peace, 'tis he, 'tis only he,

From lawyer's tongues, though they can spin with

"The shortest cause into a paraphrase ; Who is most near, most like, the Deity,

[case From usurers' conscience

(For swallowing up young heirs so fast, SONG,

Without all doubt, they'll choak at last)

Make me all innocence, HENCE, clouded looks; hence, briny tears,

Good Heaven ! and from thy eyes, O Justice! keep; Hence eye that Sorrow's livery wears !

For though they be not blind, they're oft asleep. What though awhile Apollo please

From singing-mens' religion, who are To visit the Antipodes?

Always at church, just like the crows, 'cause there



They build themselves.a nest :

To strike me: doubtless there had been a fray, Prom too much poetry, which shines

Had not I providently skipp'd away
With gold in nothing but its lines,

Without replying; for to scold is ill,
Free, O you powers ! my breast. Where every tongue's the clapper of a mill,
And from astronomy, which in the skies

And can out-sound Homer's Gradivus ; so
Finds fish and bulls, yet doth but tantalize. Away got I: but ere I far did go,
From your court-madams' beauty, which doth These two or three sharp curses back: “Mat he

I Aung (the darts of wounding poetry)
At morning May, at night a January : (carry

Be by his father in his study took
From the grave city brow

At Shakespeare's plays, instead of my lord Coke! (For though it want an R, it has

May he (though all his writings grow as soon
The letter of Pythagoras)

As Butter's out of estimation)
Keep me, O Fortune, now !

Get him a poet's name, and so ne'er come
And chines of beef innumerable send me,

Into a serjeant's or dead judge's room! Or from the stomach of the guard defend me.

May he become some poor physician's prey,
This only grant me, that my means may lie Who keeps men with that conscience in delay
Too low for envy, for contempt too high.

As he his client doth, till his health be
Some honour I would have,

As far-fetcht as a Greek noun's pedigree !
Not from great deeds, but good alone;

Nay, for all that, may the disease be gone
Th’unknown are better than ill-knoun;

Never but in the long vocation!
Rumour can ope the grave !

May neighbours use all quarrels to decide ;
Acquaintance I would have; but when 't depends But if for law any to London ride,
Not from the number, but the choice, of friends. Of all those clients let not one be his,
Books should, not business, entertain the light;

Unless he come in forma pauperis !
And sleep, as undisturb'd as death, the night.

Grant this, ye gods that favour poetry!
My house a cottage more

That all these never-ceasing tongues may be
Than palace; and should fitting be

Brought into reformation, and not dare For all my uze, no luxury.

To quarrel with a thread-bare black: but spare My garden painted o'er

Them who bear scholars' names, lest some one take
With Nature's hand, not Art's ; that pleasures yield Spleen, and another Ignoramus make.”
Horace might envy in his Sabine field.
Thus would I double my life's fading space;
For he that runs it well, twice runs his race.

And in this true delight,

If I should say, that in your face were seen
These unbought sports, and happy state,

Nature's best picture of the Cyprian queen;
I would not fear, nor wish, my fate;

If I should swear, under Minerva's name,
But boldly say, each night,

Poets (who prophets are) foretold your fame; To morrow let my Sun his beams display,

The future age would think it flattery; Or in clouds hide them; I have liv'd to day? But to the present, which can witness be,

"Twould seem beneath your high deserts, as far



above the rest of women are.

When Manners' name with Villiers' join'd I see, WESTMINSTER-hall a friend and I agreed

How do I reverence your nobility!
To meet in ; he (some business 'twas did breed But when the virtues of your stock I view,
His absence) came not there ; I up did go

(Envy'd in your dead lord, admir'd in you) To the next court; for though I could not know I half adore them; for what woman can, Much what they meant, yet I might see and hear Besides yourself (nay, I might say what man) (As most spectators do at theatre)

But sex, and birth, and fate, and years excel Things very strange: Fortune did seem to grace In mind, in fame, in worth, in living well ? My coming there, and helpt me to a place.

Oh, how had this begot idolatry, But, being newly settled at the sport,

If you had liv'd in the world's infancy, A semi-gentleman of the inus of court,

When man's too much religion made the best In a satin suit, redeem'd but yesterday,

Or deities, or semi-gods at least !
One who is ravish'd with a cock-pit play,

But we, forbidden this by piety,
Who prays God to deliver him from no evil Or, if we were not, by your modesty,
Besides a taylor's bill, and fears no devil

Will make our hearts an altar, and there pray Besides a serjeant, thrust me from my seat :

Not to, but for, you; nor that England may At which I 'gan to quarrel, till a neat

Enjoy your equal, when you once are gone, Man in a ruff (whom therefore I did take

But, what's more possible, t'enjoy you long. For barrister) opend his mouth and spake; Boy, get you gone, this is no school.” “Oh no;

For, if it were, all you gown'd men would go

Up for false Latin.” They grew straight to be
Incens'd; I fear'd they would have brought on me

I love (for that upon the wings of Fame
An action of trespass: till the young man

Shall perhaps mock Death or Time's darts) my Aforesaid, in the satin suit, began

I love it more, because 'twas given by you ; * The three concluding stanzas of this poem are I love it most, because 'twas your name too ; introduced by Mr. Cowley in his Essays in Verse For if I chance to slip, a conscious shame and Prose. N.

Pluchs me, and bids me not defile your name.


« 上一頁繼續 »