The Works of Mr Abraham Cowley Consisting of Those which were formerly Printed: And Those which he Design'd for the Press, Now Published out of the Authors Original Copies ... The Text Edited by A. R. Waller |
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To the Bishop of Lincoln,
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 | The Works of Mr Abraham Cowley |  |
To the Bishop of Lincoln,
Upon his Enlargement out of the Tower.
Pardon, my Lord, that I am come so lateT'express my joy for your return of Fate.
So when injurious Chance did you deprive
Of Liberty, at first I could not grieve;
My thoughts a while, like you, Imprison'd lay;
Great Joys as well as Sorrows make a Stay;
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And none are heard, whilst all would speak aloud.
Should every mans officious gladness hast,
And be afraid to shew it self the last;
The throng of Gratulations now would be
Another Loss to you of Libertie.
When of your freedom men the news did hear
Where it was wisht for, that is every where,
'Twas like the Speech which from your Lips does fall,
As soon as it was heard it ravisht all.
So Eloquence Tully did from exile come;
Thus long'd for he return'd, and cherisht Rome,
Which could no more his Tongue and Counsels miss;
Rome, the Worlds head, was nothing without His.
Wrong to those sacred Ashes I should do,
Should I compare any to Him but You;
You to whom Art and Nature did dispence
The Consulship of Wit and Eloquence.
Nor did your fate differ from his at all
Because the doom of Exile was his fall,
For the whole World without a native home
Is nothing but a Pris'on of larger roome.
But like a melting Woman suffer'd He,
He who before out-did Humanitie.
Nor could his Spi'rit constant and stedfast prove,
Whose Art t'had been, and greatest end to Move.
You put ill Fortune in so good a dress
That it out-shone other mens Happiness,
Had your Prosper'ity always clearly gon
As your high Merits would have led it on,
You'had Half been lost, and an Example then
But for the Happy, the least part of men.
Your very sufferings did so graceful shew,
That some straight envy'd your Affliction too.
For a clear Conscience and Heroick Mind
In Ills their Business and their Glory find.
So though less worthy stones are drown'd in night,
The faithful Diamond keeps his native Light,
And is oblig'd to Darkness for a ray
That would be more opprest then helpt by Day.
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Was stronger and more armed then the Tower.
Sure unkinde fate will tempt your Spi'rit no more,
Sh'has try'd her Weakness and your Strength before.
To'oppose him still who once has Conquer'd so,
Were now to be your Rebel, not your Foe.
Fortune henceforth will more of Provi'dence have,
And rather be your Friend, then be your Slave.
| The Works of Mr Abraham Cowley | |