Mr. Cooke's Original Poems with Imitations and Translations of Several Select Passages of the Antients, In Four Parts: To which are added Proposals For perfecting the English Language |
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| 1. | EPISTLES the First, TO Mrs. COLSTON, On the Death of her only Son. |
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 | Mr. Cooke's Original Poems |  |
65
EPISTLES the First, TO Mrs. COLSTON, On the Death of her only Son.
Madam, if Mourning, if Excess of Grief,
To thee, or to the Sire, could bring Relief,
If a long Exile from the Face of Joy,
Could from the Dust redeem the lovely Boy,
My streaming Eyes should the sad Chorus join,
And I would make thy restless Anguish mine:
Or if my Verse the great Effect could have,
To charm relentless Fate, and bribe the Grave,
I would invoke the God, the Springs would drain,
Till I could bring him to your Arms again;
But since we know he shares the common Fate
Of all that's good, of all that's wise and great,
In vain her Vows to Heav'n the Parent pays;
In vain in Sorrows pass the tedious Days.
At the Demand of Nature all remove:
Death heeds not Beauty, nor the Crys of Love.
Old Age, experienc'd in a World of Woe,
Bent by the Weight of Years, is loth to go,
He always thinks, or hopes, his Race not ran;
But Death, tho long delay'd, confutes the Man.
In blooming Years e'en the dear darling Boy,
Who smil'd away thy Cares to instant Joy,
The Tyrant's early Summons must obey,
And for the darksome Tomb forsake the Day.
Behold the Flow'rs, which vernal Meads adorn,
Open the Bud, and blossom to the Morn;
Impending Tempests darken all the Sky,
Bleak Winds and Storms ensue, they droop, they dy.
To thee, or to the Sire, could bring Relief,
If a long Exile from the Face of Joy,
Could from the Dust redeem the lovely Boy,
My streaming Eyes should the sad Chorus join,
And I would make thy restless Anguish mine:
Or if my Verse the great Effect could have,
To charm relentless Fate, and bribe the Grave,
I would invoke the God, the Springs would drain,
Till I could bring him to your Arms again;
But since we know he shares the common Fate
Of all that's good, of all that's wise and great,
In vain her Vows to Heav'n the Parent pays;
In vain in Sorrows pass the tedious Days.
66
Death heeds not Beauty, nor the Crys of Love.
Old Age, experienc'd in a World of Woe,
Bent by the Weight of Years, is loth to go,
He always thinks, or hopes, his Race not ran;
But Death, tho long delay'd, confutes the Man.
In blooming Years e'en the dear darling Boy,
Who smil'd away thy Cares to instant Joy,
The Tyrant's early Summons must obey,
And for the darksome Tomb forsake the Day.
Behold the Flow'rs, which vernal Meads adorn,
Open the Bud, and blossom to the Morn;
Impending Tempests darken all the Sky,
Bleak Winds and Storms ensue, they droop, they dy.
Thus to a constant Course is Nature bound,
And takes, perhaps, her everlasting Round!
'Tis she beyond thy Sex has made thee fair;
From her thy Pleasure, and from her thy Care:
To her, whose Pow'r I feel, I make my Pray'r.
And takes, perhaps, her everlasting Round!
'Tis she beyond thy Sex has made thee fair;
From her thy Pleasure, and from her thy Care:
To her, whose Pow'r I feel, I make my Pray'r.
Parent, to whom our ev'ry Joy we owe,
From whom alone the Poet's Numbers flow,
The Charms of Verse, whatever Charms they be,
Like Charms of Beauty are deriv'd from thee.
You form for Conquest the angelic Face,
You mold each Feature, and you give each Grace;
You teach the Lover the belov'd to move,
And you alone compose the Bed of Love.
Great Parent hear my Vows, nor hear in vain,
For her the lovely'st of the lovely'st Train:
To her distracted Heart apply Relief;
Nor let her Soul complain of future Grief:
Let of their Pow'r no Tears her Eyes disarm;
Bright be the Luster of those Lamps to charm;
On her indulgent may the Seasons smile,
And a new Joy each rising Care beguile;
Unrival'd may she give her Consort Rest,
For ever blessing, and for ever bless'd.
Her Beautys when the Veil of Time shall shade,
Her Lillys wither and her Roses fade,
May she, to grace the Age, and charm Mankind,
Leave the sweet Image of herself behind.
From whom alone the Poet's Numbers flow,
The Charms of Verse, whatever Charms they be,
Like Charms of Beauty are deriv'd from thee.
67
You mold each Feature, and you give each Grace;
You teach the Lover the belov'd to move,
And you alone compose the Bed of Love.
Great Parent hear my Vows, nor hear in vain,
For her the lovely'st of the lovely'st Train:
To her distracted Heart apply Relief;
Nor let her Soul complain of future Grief:
Let of their Pow'r no Tears her Eyes disarm;
Bright be the Luster of those Lamps to charm;
On her indulgent may the Seasons smile,
And a new Joy each rising Care beguile;
Unrival'd may she give her Consort Rest,
For ever blessing, and for ever bless'd.
Her Beautys when the Veil of Time shall shade,
Her Lillys wither and her Roses fade,
May she, to grace the Age, and charm Mankind,
Leave the sweet Image of herself behind.
Sept. 1725.
| Mr. Cooke's Original Poems | |