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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 TUE RIOHT WORSHIPFUL, MY VERY LOYING MASTER well !"
Mr. LAMBERT OSBOLSTON,
CHIEF SCHOOL-MASTER OF WESTMINSTER SCHOOL
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.
One 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 bis 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! “ Just Jove heth sent me to revenge his fate;
Which being sprung to ripeness, expect then
The earliest offering of her grateful pen." Nay, stay, Guisardo, think not Heaven in jest :
Your most dutiful scholar, 'Tis vain to hope flight can secure thy state.” Then thrust his sword into the villain's breast.
ABR. COWLEY. Here,”
,” said Philocrates, “ thy life I send
PYRAMUS AND THISBE.
By mighty Ninus' wife, two houses joind:
One Thisbe liy'd in, Pyramus the fair “ Farewell, Constantia!” that word 'said, he In the other: Earth ne'er boasted such a pair !
The very senseless walls themselves combin'd, dics.
And grew in one, just like their inaster's inind. What shall she do ? She to her brother runs, His cold and lifeless body does embrace;
Thisbe all other women did excel, She calls to him that cannot hear her moans,
'The queen of love less lovely was than she : And with her kisses warıs his clammy face.
And Pyramus more sweet than tongue can tell ; “ 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, biest 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. Be married there, and never more to die.”
But could he see, he had not wrought their smart
For pity sure would have o'ercome his heart But, secing them both dead, she cry'd, “ Ah me! Ah, my Philetus! for thiy sake will I
Like as a bird, which in a net is taen, Make up a full and perfect tragedy :
By struggling more entangles in the gin; Since 'twas for me, dear fove, that thcu didst So they, who in Love's labyrinth remain, die,
With striving never can a freedom gain. I'll follow thee, and not thy loss deplore;
'The way to enter's broad; but, being in, These eyes, 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 soul! I will not stay from thee;
The various doubts and fears that cool hot love; That will reflect upon my valued faine.”
Though he ror her's, nor she his face could see, Then piercing her sad breast, “ I come !" she
Yet this could not abolish Love's decree; cries,
For age had crack'd the wall which did them part; And Death for ever clo'd her weeping eyes. This the unanimous couple soon did spy, Her soul being fled to its eternal rest,
And here their inward sorrows did impart, Her father coines, and, seeing this, he falls
Unlading the sad burthen of their heart. To th' carth, with grief too great to be exprest :
Though Love be blind, this shows he can descry Whose doleful words my tired Muse me calls
A way to lessen his own misery,
Of odoriferous breath ; no other sport
So she, who fetcheth lustre from their sight, They could enjoys yet think the time but short, Doth purpose to destroy their glorious light, And wish that it again renewed were,
Unto the mulberry-trce fairThisbe came; To serk each other's breath for ever there.
Where having rested long, at last she’gan
A little while before her death, she sang:
Come, love! why stayest thou ? the nigho And by their tears could understand their smart: Will vatish ere we taste delight:
But it was hard and knew not what they meant, The Moon obscures herself from sight,
Thou absent, whose eyes give her lights
Or we by Morn shall be o'erta'en; Breaks thorough all thy tlinty 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 vain. 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, Abortise tears from their fair eyes out-flow'd,
And that his absence did her too much wrong. And damı'd the lovely splendour of their sight,
Then, betwixt longing hope and jealousy, Which seem'd like Titan, whilst some watery cloud
She fears, yet's loth to tax, his loyalty. O'erspreads his face, and his bright bearas duth shroud;
Sometimes she thinks that he hath her forsakens 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 but imagin’d, soon doth waken
Numberless thoughts, which on her heart did But ere Aurora, usher to the day,
Pears, that her future fate too truly sing. (Aing Began with welcome lustre to appear, The lovers rise, and at that cranny they
While she thus musing sat, ran from the wood Tbus to each other their thoughts open lay,
An angry lion to the crystal springs, With many a sigh and many a speaking tear;
Near to that place; who coming froin his food, Whose grief the pitying Morning blusht to hear. His chaps were all besmear'd with crimson blood : « Dear love!” said Pyramus, "how long shall we,
Swifter than thought, sweet Thisbe strait begins Like fairest flowers not gather'd in their prime,
To fly from hin; fear gave her swallows' wings. l'aste 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 Pyrainus should come, Lpon ourselves è 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 buin in unquench'd fire: “ Therefore, sweet Thisbe, let us meet this night
But fear expels all reasons ; she doth run At Sinus' tomb, without the city wall,
Into a darksome cave, ne'er seen by sun. Under the mulberry-tree, with berries white With haste she let her looser mantle fall: Abounding, there t' enjoy our wish'd delight. Which, when th' enraged lion did espy,
For mounting love, stopt in its course, doth fall, With bloody tecth he tore in pieces small;
And long 'd-for, yet untasted, joy kills all. While Thisbe ran, and look'd not back at all; “What though our cruel parents angry be?
For, could the senseless beast her face descry,
It had not done her such an injury.
Who, seeing printed in the yielding sand
Occasion, once pass'd by, is bald behind.” Of Thisbc's garment, sorruw struck bim dumb; She soon agreed to that which he requird,
Just like a marble statue did he stand, For little wooing needs, where both consent;
Cut by some skilful graver's artful hand What he so long had pleaded, she desir'd: 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 charming accent to her sent, “ I may,” said he,“ myself for her death blame;
That she (at last) would frustrate their intent. Therefore my blood shall wash away that shame: Thus Beauty is by Bcauty's means undone,
Since she is dead, whose beauty doth exceed
All that frail man can either hear or read." Striving to close those eyes that make her bright; Just like the Moon, which seeks t'eclipse the Sun, This spoke, he drew his fatal sword, and said, W bence all ber splendor, all her beams, do come: “ Receive my crimeuu blood, as a due debt
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 wc, being met,
“ ( Thisbe, I am 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
Farewell, sweet Thisbe! 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 love 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 o'erflow, 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, “Ob 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! bow 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 sigu of raging grief exprest.
For weeping calls not back the dead again. She blames all-powerful Jove ; and strives to take Buth 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:
Lie two beauties join'd in one.
Two, whose loves deaths could not sever;
Two, whose souls, being too divine
For earth, in their own sphere now shine,
S Y L V A:
DIVERS COPIES OF VERSES,
MADE UPON SUNDRY OCCASIONS.
DE FELICI PARTU REGINÆ MARIÆ.?
Et populum pascit religiosa fames,
Pere iterum nobis, læte December, ades.
Et risum vitis lacryma rubra movet.
Ipsa dies novit vix sibi verba dari.
Cur pede vel tellus trita frequente sonet ?
Sint mea pro tanto sobria vota viro.
Quæ fiunt pompà gaudia vera suâ.
Cedit de sexu Carolus ipse suo.
A te sic vinci magnus quàm gau leat ille!
Vix hostes tanti vel superâsse fuit.
Regis, et in methodo te peperisse juvat.
O sancta hæc inter jurgia vetus amor!
Da veniam, hic animos quòd satiare nequis.
In currum ascendas læta per astra tuum,
ABRAU AMUS COWLEY, T[rin). C[oll).
. From the ETNZAIA, sive Musarum Cantabrigiensium Consentus et Congratulatio, ad serenissi-. mom Britanniaruin 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 them with the eminence they afterwards attained to, and the rank they at last held among their brethren of the laurel. Some early specimens 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 gepius 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 poetien 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 obe served by an adınırable 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. Aanual Register, 1779, p. 180. J. N.
IN FELICISSIMAM REGINE MARIÆ, Leave off'then, London, to accuse the startes FERTILITATEM18.
For adding a worse terrour to the wartes;
Nor quarrel with the Heavens, 'cause they beginne NATURÆ facies renoratur quolibet anno,
To send the worst effect and scorge of sinne, Et sese mirùm fertilis ipsa parit.
That dreadfull plague, which wheresoe're't abide, Sic quoque Nature 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 flor, Penè omnem signas tam sapè 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, Færuodam semper spectabis Jane, Mariam, Comes dancing from his chamber of the east, Sive hâc sive illa 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 grieves ; the very birds arise, Dum redit à sanctis non fessus Carolus aris,
And sing glad notes in stead of elegies : Principis occurit nuntia fama novi.
The leaves and painted flowers, which did erewhile Non mirum, cxistat cùm proximus ipse Tonanti,
Tremble with mournfull drops, beginne to smile. Vicinum attingunt quòd citò vita Deum.
The losse of many why should they bemone, Non mirum, cùm sit tam sanctâ mente precatus,
Who for them more than many have in one ? Quòd precibus merces tam properata venit.
llow blest must thou thy self, bright Mary, be, Factura ô longùm nobis jejunia festum !
Who by thy wombe can'st blesse our miserie? 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 Regina ipsam parturiisse putes.
Fill every 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 Aebilis ipse sonos.
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[ol?]. UPON THE HAPPIE BIRTII OF THE
AN ELEGY doth call,
OX THE DEATH OF THE RIGHT HONOURABLE DUDLEY Whilst warre is fear'd, and conquest hop'd by all,
LORD CARLETON, VISCOUNT DORCHESTER, LATE The severall shires their various forces lend,
PRINCIPAL SECRETARY OF STATE.
Of all the fiends, to the black Stygian hall;
Of their accursed meeting, thither came.
And Envy, never satisfy'd with ill : In private births lopes 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 his great acts, and, yet not prophesie.
The counc Ithus dissolr'd, an angry Fever, I see in him his father's boundlesse sprite,
Whose quenchless thirst by blood was sated never, Powerfull as 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 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 bears, 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-1 Calliope would sing a tragic verse. cipe 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 hare 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,