At top of all became

Another thing and name;

Here I'm amaz'd at th' actions of a Knight,
That does bold wonders in the fight;
Here I the losing party blame,

For thofe falfe Moves that break the Game, That to their Grave, the Bag, the conquer'd Pieces bring, And, above all, th' ill-conduct of the Mated King. "Whate'er these feem, whate'er philosophy "And fenfe or reason tell," said I, "These things have life, election, liberty; "'Tis their own wisdom moulds their state, "Their faults and virtues make their fate. "They do, they do," said I; but strait

Lo! from my enlighten'd eyes the mists and shadows fell,
That hinder spirits from being visible;

And lo! I saw two angels play'd the Mate.
With man, alas! no otherwise it proves ;

An unfeen hand makes all their Moves;
And fome are great, and some are small,
Some climb to good, fome from good-fortune fall
Some wife-men, and fome fools, we call;
Figures, alas! of fpeech, for Destiny plays us all.
Me from the womb the midwife Mufe did take:
She cut my navel, wash'd me, and mine head

With her own hands fhe fashioned;

She did a covenant with nie make,

And circumcis'd my tender soul, and thus fhe spake:

"Thou

"Thou of my church fhalt be;

"Hate and renounce" faid fhe,

"Wealth, honour, pleafures, all the world, for me.
"Thou neither great at court, nor in the war,
"Nor at th' exchange, fhalt be, nor at the wrangling
"Content thyself with the fmall barren praife, [bar
"That neglected verfe does raife."
She fpake, and all my years to come
Took their unlucky doom.

Their feveral ways of life let others chufe,
Their feveral pleafures let them use,
But I was born for Love, and for a Muse.

With Fate what boots it to contend P
Such I began, fuch am, and fo muft end.
The ftar that did my being frame,
Was but a lambent flame,

And fome small light it did difpenfe,

But neither heat nor influence.

No matter, Cowley! let proud Fortune fee,

That thou canst her defpife no lefs than fhe does thee,

Let all her gifts the portion be

Of Folly, Luft, and Flattery,
Fraud, Extortion, Calumny,

Murder, Infidelity,

Rebellion and Hypocrify;

Do thou not grieve, nor blush to be,

As all th' infpired tuneful men,

And all thy great forefathers, were, from Homer down

to Ben.

VOL. II,

D

BRUTUS.

E

BRUT US.

Xcellent Brutus! of all human race

The beft, till Nature was improv'd by Grace; Till men above themselves Faith raifed more

Than Reafon above beasts before.

Virtue was thy life's centre, and from thence
Did filently and conftantly difpenfe

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 so willingly,
That none could difcord or diforder fee
In all their contrariety:

Each had his motion natural and free,

And the whole no more mov'd than the whole world

could be.

From thy ftrict rule some think that thou didst swerve (Mistaken, honest men !) in Cæsar's blood;

What mercy could the tyrant's life deserve,

From him who kill'd himself, rather than serve ?
Th' heroic exaltations of Good

Are fo far from understood,

We count them Vice: alas! our fight 's fo ill,
That things which fwifteft move feem to stand stilk:

We look not upon Virtue in her height,

On her fupreme idea, brave and bright,

In the original light;

But

But as her beams reflected pass

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 ftars, fo high above, should seem to us below.

Can we ftand by and fee

Our mother robb'd, and bound, and ravish'd be,
Yet not to her affiftance ftir,

Pleas'd with the ftrength and beauty of the ravisher?
Or fhall we fear to kill him, if before

The cancel'd name of friend he bore?
Ingrateful Brutus do they call?

Ingrateful Cæfar, who could Rome enthrall!
An act more barbarous and unnatural
(In th' exact balance of true virtue try'd),
Than his fucceffor Nero's parricide!

There's one but Brutus could deferve

That all men elfe fhould wish to ferve,

And Cæfar's ufurp'd place to him should proffer; None can deferve 't but he who would refuse the offer.

Ill Fate affum'd a body thee t' affright,

And wrap'd itself i' th' terrors of the night: "I'll meet thee at Philippi," said the sprite;

"I'll meet thee there," faidft thou,

With fuch a voice, and fuch a brow,
As put the trembling ghost to sudden flight ;
It vanish'd, as a taper's light
Goes out when spirits appear in fight.
D 2

One

One would have thought 't heard the morning crow,
Or feen her well-appointed ftar
Come marching up the Eaftern hill afar.
Nor durft it in Philippi's field appear,

But unfeen attack'd thee there :

Had it prefum'd in any fhape thee to oppose,
Thou would't have forc'd it back upon thy foes:
Or flain 't, like Cæfar, though it be

A conqueror and a monarch mightier far than he.

What joy can human things to us afford,
When we fee perifh thus, by odd events,

Ill men, and wretched accidents,

The beft caufe and beft man that ever drew a sword? When we fee

The falfe Octavius and wild Antony,

God-like Brutus ! conquer thee?

What can we fay, but thine own tragic word-
That Virtue, which had worship'd been by thee
As the most 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 difdain :

Thefe mighty gulphs are yet

Too deep for all thy judgment and thy wit.
The time 's fet forth already which fhall quell
Stiff Reason, when it offers to rebel;

Which thefe great fecrets fhall unfeal,
And new philofophies reveal a

5

A few