UI tegis Amiffam Paradifum, grandia magni Carmina Miltoni, quid nifi cuncta legis? Res cunctas, & cunctarum primórdia rerum, Et fata, & fines continet ifte liber. Intima panduntur magni penetralia mundi, Scribitur & toto quicquid in orbe latet: Terræque, tractufque maris, cœlumque profundum, - Sulphureumque Erebi, flammivomumque fpecus Quæque colunt terras, pontumque, & Tartara cæca, Quæque colunt fummi lucida regna poli: Et quodcunque ullis conclufum eft finibus ufquam, Et fine fine Chaos, & fine fine Deus :
Et fine fine magis, fi quid magis eft fine fine, In Chrifto erga homines conciliatus amor. Hæc qui fperaret quis crederet effe futura? Et tamen hæc hodie terra Britanna legit. O quantos in bella duces! quæ protulit arma! Quæ canit, & quanta prælia dira tuba! Coeleftes acies! atque in certamine cœlum! cœleftes pugna deceret agros!
Et quæ Quantus in æthereis tollit fe Lucifer armis 1
Atque ipfo graditur vix Michaële minor! Quantis, & quam funeftis concurritur iris, Dum ferus hic ftellas protegit, ille rapit!
Dum vulfos montes ceu tela reciproca torquent, Et non mortali defuper igne pluunt: Stat dubius cui se parti concedat Olympus, Et,metuit pugnæ non fupereffe fuæ. At fimul in cœlis Meffiæ infignia fulgent, Et currus animes, armaque digna Deo, Horrendumque rotæ ftrident, et fæva rotarum Erumpunt torvis fulgura luminibus,
Et flammæ vibrant, & vera tonitrua rauco Admiftis flammis infonuere polo
Excidit attonitis mens omnis, & impetus omnis, Et caffis dextris irrita tela cadunt;
Ad pœnas fugiunt, & ceu foret Orcus afylum, Infernis certant condere fe tenebris.
Cedite Romani Scriptores, cedite Graii, Et quos fama recens vel celebravit anus. Hæc quicunque leget tantùm ceciniffe putabit Mæonidem ranas, Virgilium culices.
SAMUEL BARROW, M. D.
WHEN I beheld the Poet blind, yet bold, In flender book his vast design unfold,
Meffiah crown'd, God's reconcil'd decree, Rebelling Angels, the forbidden tree,
Heaven, Hell, Earth, Chaos, all; the argument Held me a while misdoubting his intent, That he would ruin (for I faw him strong)
The facred truths to fable and old fong, (So Sampfon grop'd the temple's posts in spite) The world o'erwhelming to revenge his fight.
Yet as I read, ftill growing lefs fevere, I lik'd his project, the fuccefs did fear;
Through that wide field how he his way should find, O'er which lame faith leads understanding blind; Left he perplex'd the things he would explain, And what was eafy he fhould render vain. Or if a work fo infinite he spann'd, Jealous I was that fome lefs fkilful hand (Such as difquiet always what is well, And by ill imitating would excel)
Might hence prefume the whole creation's day To change in scenes, and fhow it in a play. Pardon me, mighty Poet; nor despise My causeless, yet not impious, furmife. But I am now convinc'd, and none will dare Within thy labours to pretend a share.
Thou haft not mifs'd one thought that could be fit, And all that was improper doft omit:
So that no room is here for writers left, But to detect their ignorance or theft.
That majefty which through thy work doth reign, Draws the devout, deterring the profane. And things divine thou treat'st of in such state As them preserves, and thee, inviolate. At once delight and horror on us feize, Thou fing'ft with fo much gravity and ease; And above human flight doft foar aloft With plume so strong, fo equal, and so soft. The bird nam'd from that Paradise you fing So ver flags, but always keeps on wing.
« ПредишнаНапред » |