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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 | The Works of Mr Abraham Cowley |  |
To Sir William Davenant.
Upon his two first Books of Gondibert, finished before his voyage to America.
Methinks
Heroick Poesie till now
Like some fantastick Fairy Land did show,
Gods, Devils, Nymphs, Witches and Gyants race,
And all but Man in Mans chief work had place.
Thou like some worthy Knight with sacred Arms
Dost drive the Monsters thence, and end the Charms.
Instead of those dost Men and Manners plant,
The things which that rich Soil did chiefly want.
Yet ev'en thy Mortals do their Gods excell,
Taught by thy Muse to Fight and Love so well.
Like some fantastick Fairy Land did show,
Gods, Devils, Nymphs, Witches and Gyants race,
And all but Man in Mans chief work had place.
Thou like some worthy Knight with sacred Arms
Dost drive the Monsters thence, and end the Charms.
Instead of those dost Men and Manners plant,
The things which that rich Soil did chiefly want.
Yet ev'en thy Mortals do their Gods excell,
Taught by thy Muse to Fight and Love so well.
By fatal hands whilst present Empires fall,
Thine from the Grave past Monarchies recall.
So much more thanks from humane kind does merit
The Poets Fury, then the Zelots Spirit.
And from the Grave thou mak'est this Empire rise,
Not like some dreadful Ghost t'affright our Eyes,
But with more Luster and triumphant state,
Then when it crown'd at proud Verona sate.
So will our God rebuild mans perisht frame,
And raise him up much Better, yet the same.
So God-like Poets do past things reherse,
Not change, but Heighten Nature by their Verse.
Thine from the Grave past Monarchies recall.
So much more thanks from humane kind does merit
The Poets Fury, then the Zelots Spirit.
And from the Grave thou mak'est this Empire rise,
Not like some dreadful Ghost t'affright our Eyes,
But with more Luster and triumphant state,
Then when it crown'd at proud Verona sate.
43
And raise him up much Better, yet the same.
So God-like Poets do past things reherse,
Not change, but Heighten Nature by their Verse.
With shame, methinks, great Italy must see
Her Conqu'erors rais'ed to Life again by Thee.
Rais'd by such pow'erful Verse, that ancient Rome
May blush no less to see her Wit o'recome.
Some men their Fancies like their Faith derive,
And think all Ill but that which Rome does give.
The Marks of Old and Catholick would find,
To the same Chair would Truth and Fiction bind.
Thou in those beaten pathes disdain'st to tred,
And scorn'st to Live by robbing of the Dead.
Since Time does all things change, thou think'st not fit
This latter Age should see all New but Wit.
Thy Fancy like a Flame its way does make,
And leave bright Tracks for following Pens to take.
Sure 'twas this noble boldness of the Muse
Did thy desire to seek new Worlds infuse,
And ne're did Heav'n so much a Voyage bless,
If thou canst Plant but there with like success.
Her Conqu'erors rais'ed to Life again by Thee.
Rais'd by such pow'erful Verse, that ancient Rome
May blush no less to see her Wit o'recome.
Some men their Fancies like their Faith derive,
And think all Ill but that which Rome does give.
The Marks of Old and Catholick would find,
To the same Chair would Truth and Fiction bind.
Thou in those beaten pathes disdain'st to tred,
And scorn'st to Live by robbing of the Dead.
Since Time does all things change, thou think'st not fit
This latter Age should see all New but Wit.
Thy Fancy like a Flame its way does make,
And leave bright Tracks for following Pens to take.
Sure 'twas this noble boldness of the Muse
Did thy desire to seek new Worlds infuse,
And ne're did Heav'n so much a Voyage bless,
If thou canst Plant but there with like success.
| The Works of Mr Abraham Cowley | |