« 上一頁繼續 »
I'm glad that city, t'whom I ow'd before
His learning had out-run the rest of heirs, (But, äh inc! Fate hath crost that willing score)
Stolin beard from Time, anil leapt to tucnty years, A father, gave me a godfather too;
And, as the Sun, though in full glory bright,
Whom I inay rightly think, and term, to be And a good-morrow to the beggar brings
With as full rays as to the mightiest kings :
So he, although his worth just state might claim, I thank my careful Fate, which found out one
And give to pride an honourable name, (When Nature had not licensed my tongue
With courtesy to all, cloath'd virtue so, Farther than cries) who should my office do ;
That 'twas not higher than his thoughts were low. I thank her more, because she found out you: In whose each look I may a sentence see;
In 's body tou no critique eye could find
The smallest blemish, to belye his mind; In whose each deed, a teaching homily,
He was all pureness, and his outward part How shali I pay this debt to you? My fate But represents the picture of his heart. Denies ine Indian pearl or Persian plate;
When waters swallow'd mankind, and did cheat Which though it did not, to requite you thus, The hungry worm of its expected meat; Were to send apples to Alcinous,
When gems, pluckt from the shore by ruder hands, And sell the cunning'st way.-No! when I can, Peturud 2 gain unto their native sands ;
In every lue., in every verse, write Man; 'Mongst all those spoils, there was not any prey When my quill relisheth a school no more;
Could equal whai this brook hath stul'n away. When my pen-feather'd Muse hath learnt to soar,
Weep then, sad Flood; and, though thou’rt innocent, And gotten wings as well as feet; look then
Weep because Fate made thee her instrument: For equal thanks from my unwearied pen :
And, when long grief hath drunk up all thy store, Till future ages say, 'twas you did give
Coine to our eyes, and we will lend thce more.
A TRANSLATION OF
VERSES UPON THE BLESSED VIRGIN,
WRITTEN IN LATIN BY THE RIGHT WORSHIPFUL DR. A.
Once thou rejoiced'st, and rejoi e for ever,
Whose time of joy shall be expired never :
Who in her womb the hive of comfort bears,
You brought the word of joy, in which was born
An ha il to all! let us an hail return ! “I am accurst ; go turn some other way?"
From you “God save” into the world there cames It is unjust: black Flood ! thy guilt is more,
Our echo hail is but an empty naine.
What have I said? my pious rage hath been How loaded hives are with their honey 6ll'd, Too hut, and acts, whilst it aconseth, sin.
From divers flowers by chymic bees distilld! Thou’rt innocent, I know, still clear and bright, How full the collet with his jewel is, Fit whence so pure a soul should take its fight. Which, that it cannot take by love, doth kiss : How is angry zeal confin'd! for he
How full the Moon is with her brother's ray, Must quarrel with his love and piety,
When she drinks-up with thirsty orb the day! That would revenge his death. Oh, I shall sin, How full of grace the Graces' dances are ! And wish anon he had less virtuous been.
So full doth Mary of God's light appear.
It is no wonder if with Graces she
The fall of mankind under Death's extent “ Live with me, brother, or I'll die with thee;"
The quire of blessed angels did lament, And so he did! Had he been thine, O Rome!
And wish'd a reparation to see Thou would'st hare call'd this death a martyrdom,
By him, who manhood join'd with deity. And sainted him. My conscience give me leave,
How grateful should man's safety then appear I'll do so too: if Fate will us bereave
Thimself, whose safety can the angels cheer!
BENEDICTA TU IN MULIERIBUS,
Deatu came, and troops of sad Diseases led
Life came so too, and troops of Graces led
To th' Earth, by woman's faith solicited. Which we can good, which we can virtuous, call: As our life's springs came from thy blessed womb, Reason, and Holy Fear, the proctors were,
So from our mouths springs of iby praise shad To apprehend those words, those thoughts, that err. come:
SPIRITUS SANCTUS SUPERVENIET IN TE.
Who did life's blessing give, 'tis fit that she, The laurel to the poet's hand did bow,
Craving the honour of his brow;
And every loving arm embracd, and made EI BENEDICTUS FRUCTUS VENTRIS TUI.
With their of ious leaves a shade. Wira mouth divine the Father doth protest,
The beasts too strove his au fitors to be,
Forgetting their old tyranny. He a good word sent from bis stored breas: ; 'Twas Christ : which Mary, without carnal thought,
The fearfal bart next to the lion came, From theu nfathom'd depth of goodness brought: Nightingales, harmless Syreas of the air,
And wolf was shepherd to the lamb. The word of blessing a just cause alforos
And Muses of the place, were there; To be oft blessed with reduubled words !
Who, when their little windpipes they had found
Unequal to so strange a sound,
O'ercome by art and grief they did expire,
Happy, O happy they, whose tomb might be, The breath gives sparing kisses, nor with power
Mausolus! envied by thee!
THAT A PLEASANT POVERTY
BE PREFERRED Yet loos'd not thine eternal chastity;
BEFORE DISCONTENTED RICHES. Thy rose's folds do still entangled lie.
W Believe Christ born from an unbruised womb,
HY, O! doth gandy Tagus ravish thee, So from ur.bruiseu bark the odours coine.
Though Neptune's treasure-house it be?
Why doth Pactolus thee bewitch,
Infected yet with Midas' glorious itch?
Their dull and sleepy streams are not at all,
Like other floods, poetical ;
They have no dance, no wanton sport,
No gentle murmur, the lov'd shore to court. Great is the birth; and 'tis a stranger deed
No fish inhabit the adulterate flood, That she no man, thau Gud po wie, sh uld need ;
Nor can it feed the neighbouring wood ; A shade delighted the child-bearing maid,
No flower or herb is near it found, And God himself became to her a shade.
But a perpetual winter starves the ground. O strange descent! who is light's anthor, he Give me a river which doth scorn to show Will to his creature thus a shadow be.
An added beauty; whose clear brow As unseen light did from the Faiher flow,
May be my looking-glass to see So did seen light from Virgin Mary grow.
What my face is, and what my mind should be! When Moses sought God in a sharle to see, The father's shade was Christ the Deity.
Here waves call waves, and glide along in rank, Let's seek for day, we darkress, whilst our sight
Anil prattle to the smiling bank;
Here sad king-fishers tell their tales,
Daisies, the first-born of the teeming spring,
On each side their embroidery bring;
Here lilies wash, and grow more white,
And daffodils, to see themselves, delight. "Tis not a pyramid of marble s one,
Here a fresh arbour gires her amorous shade, Though high as our ambition ;
Which Nature, the best gardener, made. 'Tis not a tomb cut out in brass, which can
Here I would sit and sing rude lays, Give life to th' ashes of a man ;
Such as the nymphs and me myseif should please. But verses only: they shall fresh appear, Whilst there are men to read or hear.
Thus I would waste, thus end, my careless days; When Time shall make the lasting brass decay,
And robin-red-breasts, whom men praise And eat the pyramid away ;
For pious birds, should, when I die, Turning that monument wherein men trust
Make both my monument and elegy.
TO HIS MISTRESS,
Tyrian dye why do you wear,
You whose cheeks best scarlet are? took
Why do you fondly pin His lyre, and gently on it strook,
Pure linen o'er your skin, The learned stones came dancing all along,
(Your skin that's whiter far) And kept time to the charming song.
Casting a dusky cloud before a star. With artificial pace the wariike pine,
Why bears your neck a golden chain? The elm and his wife the ivy twine,
Did Nature make your hair in vain, With all the better trees, which erst had stood
Of gold most pure and fine ? Unmov'd, forsook their native wood.
With geins why do you shine ? TOL. VII.
They, neighbours to your eyes,
I would not wou the dress,
Contentment han the day,
If Jupiter down pur
Hide such bright majesty, le than a golden one it cannot be.
Then Revenge, married to Ambition,
Then limits to each field were strain'd,
To men before was found,
Besides the sea, no bound.
This truth too well our England knows:
Nay, then her lily too
With blood's loss paler grew.
He to our land best l'eace doth bring,
Happy who did ri main
Unborn till Charles's reign!
Our Charles, blest alchymist! (though strange,
The iron-age of old
ON THE UNCERTAINIY OF FORTUNE.
Leave off unfit complaints, and clear
That sea which vext with Notus is,
The Sun to day riles d.owsily,
'Tis by the gods appointed so,
W'hidrave his oxen yesterr'ay,
Whm Hesperus saw poor and low,
If Fortune knit amongst her play
An with the crowned axe, which he
Nay, ifle want the fuel cold requires,
Hoa it out-runs thy following eye!
Use all persuasions now, and try
That way it went ; but thou shalt find
Ny tract is left behind.
Oi all the time thou 'st shot away,
I'll b.d thee ieich but yesterday,
Besides repentance, what canst find
That it hach left behind ?
A doubtful cloud our substance bears,
And is the horse of all our years.
We and our glass run out, and must
Both render up our dust.
Who never thinks his end too near,
But says to Fame, “ Thou art mine heir;"
This is, this is the only way
IN COMMENDATION OF THE TIME WE LIVE I'NDER, THE
REIGN OF OUR GRACIOUS KING CHARLES.
Curst be that wretch (Death's factor sure) who AN ANSWER TO AN INVITATION TO brought
Nichols, my better self! forbear;
For, if thou tellist what Cambridge pleasures Arts, in most cru. I wise
aie, Man's life t epitomize!
The schoolboy's sin will light on me, Then men (find men, alas !) r de post to th' grave.
I shall, in mund at least, a truant be. And cut those threads which yet the Pates would
Tell me not how you feed your mind
With Hainties of philosophy;
In Ovid's nut I shall not find
The taste once pleased me.
O tell ne not of logic's diverse cheer!
I shall begin to loathe our crainbo here,
Tell me not how the waves appear
Why do I stay then? I would meet of Cam, or how it cuts the learned shire;
Thee there, but plummets hang upon my feet ; I shall contemn the troubled Thames
'Tis my chief wish to live with thee,
Till then, we'll scorn to let that toy,
Some forty miles, divide our hearts:
Write to me, and I shall enjoy
Friendship and wit, thy better parts. When th' city shines with flags and pageants there, Though envious Fortune larger bindrance brings, And satin doublets, seen not twice a year.
We'll easily see each other, Love hath wings.
And, whilst with wearied steps we upwards 50,
See us, and clouds, below.
ODE. OF WIT.
Tell me, O tell, what kind of thing is Wit,
Thou who master art of it? Whilst others great, by being born, are grown ;
For the first matter loves variety less; Their mothers' labour, not their own.
Less women love 't, either in love or dress. In this scale gold, in th’ other fame does lie,
A thousand different shapes it bears, The weight of that mounts this so high.
Comely in thousand shapes appears. These men are Fortune's jewels, moulded bright; 'Yonder we saw it plain; and here 'tis wow, Brought forth with their own fire and light:
Like spirits, in a place we know not how. If I, her vulgar stone, for either look,
London, that vents of false ware so much store, Out of myself it must be strook.
In no ware deceives us more; Yet I must on. What sound is 't strikes mine ear? For men, led by the colour and the shape, Sure I Fame's trumpet hear:
Like Zeuxis' birds, fly to the painted grape. It sounds like the last trumpet ; for it can
Some things do through our judgment Raise up the buried man.
pass l'npast Alps stop me; but I'll cut them all,
As through a multiplying-glass; And march, the Muses' Hannibal.
And sometimes, if the object be too far, Hence, all the flattering vanities that lay
We take a falling meteor for a star. Nets of roses in the way!
Hence 'tis, a Wit, that greatest word of fame, Hence, the desire of honours or estate,
Grows such a common name; And all that is not above Fate !
And Wits by our creation they become,
Just so as titular bishops made at Rome,
"Tis not a tale, 'tis not a jest Come, my best friends, my books! and lead me
Admir'd with laughter at a feast, on ;
Nor florid talk, which can that title gain;
The proofs of Wit for ever must remain.
'Tis not to force some lifeless verses meet Thy scholar's victories thou dost far out-do;
With their five gouty feet. He conquer'd th’ earth, the whole world you. All, every where, like man's, must be the soul, Welcome, learn’d Cicero! whose blest tongue and And Reason the inferior powers controul. wit
Such were the numbers which could call Preserves Rome's greatness yet:
The stones into the Theban wall.
Such miracles are ceas'd; and now we see
No towns or houses rais'd by poetry.
That shows more cost than art.
Jewels at nose and lips but ill appear;
Ratner than all things Wit, let none be there, Tell me, ye mighty Three! what shall I do
Several lights will not be seen,
If there be nothing else between.
If those be stars which pai t the galaxy.
ON THE DEATH OF
Tis not when two like words make up one noise W’hilst we, like younger brothers, get at best
(Jests for Dutch men and English boys); But a small stock, and must work out the rest. In which who finds out Wit, the same may see How could he answer 't, should the state think fit In an'grams and acrostic poetry :
To question a monopoly of wit ?
Such is the man whom we require the same
We lent the North ; untouch'd, as is his fame.
Those men alone (and those are useful too)
Whose valour is the only art they know
Were for sad war and bloody battles born;
Let then the state defend, and he adorn.
And force some odd similitude.
SIR HENRY WOOTTON.
What shall we say, since sileut now is he
Who when he spoke, all things would silent be? All creatures dwelt; all creatures that had life:
Who had so many languages in store,
That only Fame shall speak of him in more; (If we compare great things with small)
Whom England now no more return'd must see ; Which, without discord, or confusion, lie
He's gone to Heaven on his fourth embassy.
On Earth he travell’d often ; not to say In that strange mirror of the Deity.
H’ had.been abroad, or pass loose time away. But Love, that moulds one man up out of two, In whatsoever land he chanc'd to come,
Makes me forget, and injure you : He read the men and manuers, bringing home
As if he went to conquer, not too see.
So well he understood the mu 7 and best
Of tongues, that Babel sent into the W'est; What thing right Wit and height of genius is, Spoke them so truly, that he had (you'd swear) I'll only show your lines, and say, "Tis this.
Not only liv'd, but been born every where.
Nor onght the language of that inan be less,
We say, that learning's endless, and blame Fate
He did the utmost bounds of knowledge find, Great is thy charge, O North! be wise and just, He found them nut so large as was his mind; England commits her Falkland to thy trust; But, like the brave Pellæan youth, did moan Retuin bim safe; Learning would rather choose Because that'art had no more worlds than one; Her Bedley or her Vatican to lose :
And, when he saw that he through all had past, All things that are but writ or printed there, He dy'd, lest he should idle grow at last. In his unbounded breast engraven are. There all the sciences together meet, And every art does all her kindred greet, Yet justle nöt, nor quarrel; but as well Agree as in some common principle.
ON THE DEATH OF MR. JORDAN, Si, in an army govern'd right, we see
SECOND MASTER AT WESTMINSTER SCHOOL. (Though out of several countries rais'd it be) That all their order and their place maintain,
Hence, and make room for me, all you who come The English, Dutch, the Frenchman, and the Dane: Only to read the epitaph on this tomb ! So thousand divers species fill the air,
Here lies the master of my tender years, Yet neither crowd nor mix confus'dly there; The guardian of my parents' hope and fears; Beasts, houses, trees, and men, together lie, Whose government ne'er stood me in a tear; Yet enter undisturb'd into the eye.
All weeping was reserv'd to spend it here. And this great prince of knowledge is by Fate Come hither, all who his rare virtues knew, Thrust into th' noise and business of a state.
And mourn with me: he was your tutor too. All virtues, and some customs of the court,
Let's join our sighs, till they fy far, and shew Other men's Jabour, are at least his sport;
His native Belgia what she's now to do. Whilst we, who can no action undertake,
The league of grief bids her with us lament; Whom idleness itself might learned make;
By her he was brought forth, and bither sent Who hear of nothing, and as yet scarce know, In payment of all men we there had lost, Whether the Scots in England be or no;
And all the English blood those wars have cost. Pace dully on, oft tire, and often stay,
Wise!y did Nature this learn'd man divide; Yet see his nimble Pegasus fly away.
His birth was theirs, his death the mournful pride 'Tis Nature's fault, why did thus partial grow, Of England ; and, t'avoid the envious strife And her estate of wit on one bestow ,
Of other lands, all Europe had his life,
FOR HIS SAFE RETURN FROM TUE NORTHERN
EXPEDITION AGAINST THE scors.