H how I languish! What a ftrange, Unruly, fierce Defire?
My Spirits feel fome wond'rous change, My Heart is all on Fire.
Now all my wifer Thoughts, away; In vain your Tale ye tell Of patient Hopes, and dull Delay; Love's Foppish part, farewel.
Suppofe one Week's Delay wou'd give All that my Wishes move;
Oh! who fo long a time can live, Stretch'd on the Rack, on Love?
Her Soul, perhaps, is too fublime To like fuch flavish Fear; Difcretion, Prudence, all is Crime, If once condemn'd by her.
When Honour does the Soldier call, To fome unequal Fight, Refolv'd to Conquer, or to Fall Before his General's Sight;
Advanc'd the happy Heroe lives: Or if Ill Fate denies,
The noble Rashness Heav'n forgives,
And gloriously he dies.
Rom Wars, and Plagues, come no fuch Harms,
Fas from a Nymph to full of Charms;
So much Beauty in her Face, In her Motions fuch a Grace; In her kind inviting Eyes, Such a foft Inchantment lyes, That we please our felves too soon, And are with vain Hopes undone. After all her Softnefs, we
Are but Slaves, while fhe is free, Free, alas, from all Desire, Unless to set the World on Fire.
Thou, Fair Diffembler, doft but thus Deceive the World, as well as us: Like fome ancient Heroe, thou Wou'dft rather force Mankind to bow, And venture round the World to roam, Than govern with Content at home: But trust me, Calia, truft me when The Muse her felf infpires my Pen; A Minute spent in Love, out-weighs Whole Years of Univerfal Praise; And one Adorer kindly us'd,
Gives truer Joys than Crouds refus'd. For what does Youth and Beauty serve? Why more than all your Sex deferve? Why fuch foft alluring Arts
To catch our Eyes, and charm our Hearts? By our Lofs you nothing gain: Unless you Love, you Please in vain.
By Mr. CowLEY.
Xcellent Brutus, of all Human Race
The beft, 'till Nature was improv'd by Grace, 'Till Men above themfelves Faith raised more Than Reason above Beasts before;
Virtue was thy Life's Center, and from thence Did filently and conftantly Difpence The gentle vigorous Influence To all the wide and fair Circumference: And all the Parts upon it lean'd so easily, Obey'd the mighty Force fo willingly, That none cou'd Difcord or Disorder fee
In all their Contrariety.
Each had his Motion natural and free, And the Whole no more mov'd, than the Whole World
From thy ftrict Rule fome think that thou didst fwerve (Miftaken Honeft. Man) in Cafar's Blood;
What Mercy cou'd the Tyrant's Life deserve, From him who kill'd Himself, rather than serve ? Th' Heroick Exaltations of Good
Are fo far from Understood,
We count them Vice: Alas, our Sight's so ill, That things which swifteft Move, seem to stand still. - We look not upon Virtue in her height,
On her Supream Idea brave and bright,
In the Original Light:
But as her Beams reflected pafs Through our own Nature, or ill Custom's Glass,
And 'tis no wonder fo,
If with dejected Eye
In ftanding Pools we feek the Sky, That Stars fo high above should seem to us below. III.
Can we ftand by and fee
Our Mother Robb'd, and Bound, and Ravish'd be, Yet not to her Affistance stir,
Pleas'd with the Strength and Beauty of the Ravisher · Or fhall we fear to kill him, if before,
The Cancell'd Name of Friend he bore Ingrateful Brutus do they call?
Ingrateful Cafar, who cou'd Rome enthral!! An A&t more barbarous and unnatural.
(In th' exact Ballance of true Virtue try'd) Than his Succeffor Nero's Parricide!
There's none but Brutus cou'd deferve. 'That all Men elfe fhou'd wish to serve, And Cafar's ufurp'd Place to him fhou'd proffer; None can deferve't but he who wou'd refuse the Offer
Ill Fate affum'd a Body thee t'affright, And wrap'd it felf i' th' Terrors of the Night,. I'll meet thee at Philippi, faid the Spright; I'll meet thee there, faidft Thou, With fuch a Voice, and fuch a Brow, As put the trembling Ghost to fudden Flight; It vanish'd as a Taper's Light
Goes out when Spirits appear in fight. One wou'd have thought t'had heard the Morning Crowd. Or feen her well-appointed Star Come marching up the Eastern-Hill afar.. Nor durft it in Philippi's Field appear, But unfeen attack'd thee there.
Had it prefum'd in any Shape thee to oppofe, Thou wou'dft have forc'd it back upon thy Foes: Or flain't like cafar, though it be
A Conqueror and a Monarch mightier far than He.
What Joy can Human things to us afford, When we fee perish thus, by odd Events, Ill Men, and wretched Accidents,
The best Cause and beft Man that ever drew a Sword When we fee
The falfe Octavius, and wild Antonie,
God-like Brutus, Conquer Thee;
What can we fay, but thine own Tragick Word, That Virtue, which had worshipp'd been by theer As the moft folid Good, and greatest Deity, By this fatal Proof became
An Idol only, and a Name?
Hold, Noble Brutus, and reftrain The bold Voice of thy generous Disdain:
These mighty Gulphs are yet
Too deep for all thy Judgment and thy Wit. The Time'set forth already which hall quell Stiff Reason when it offers to Rebel:
Which thefe great Secrets fhall unfeal, And new Philofophers reveal.
A few Years more, fo foon hadst thou not dy'd, Would have confounded Human Virtue's Pride, And fhew'd thee a God Crucify'd.
------Si quid novifti rectius iftis,`
Candidus imperti ; fi non, his utere mecum.
'Twasimate the Lord of all below;
IS faid, that Favourite, Mankind,
But yet the doubtful are concern'd to find, 'Tis only one Man tells another fo. And for this vaft Dominion here, Which over other Beafts we claim, Reason, our beft Credential does appear, By which indeed we Domineer;
But how abfurdly, we may fee with Shame. Reason, that folemn Trifle! light as Air! Mov'd with each blaft of Cenfure, or Applause! By partial Love, away 'tis blown ;
Or the leaft Prejudice can weigh it down; Thus our high Privilege becomes our Snare. In any nice, and weighty Cause,
How wav'ring are the Wifeft! yet the Grave Impofe on that small Judgment which we have.
In Works of Fame, whose Names have spread fo wide, And ev'n the force of Time defy'd,
Some Failings yet may be defcry'd.
« ПредишнаНапред » |