The poems of George Daniel ... From the original mss. in the British Museum: Hitherto unprinted. Edited, with introduction, notes, and illustrations, portrait, &c. By the Rev. Alexander B. Grosart: In four volumes |
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| LIX. | ODE LIX.
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 | The poems of George Daniel |  |
ODE LIX.
[Not though wee keepe a Soft]
1
Not though wee keepe a SoftLow number; scorne to read our verse.
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And haughtie Qvills high Things reherse.
Mee better suits to Creepe,
Then with Icarian winge,
Contrive a scornéd Ruine. To the Cheape
Ayre of opinion will I never Singe.
I cannot weepe,
Nor Laugh to Please; I can doe noe such Thinge.
2
Shall I soe farre SubmittMy Reason, perhaps to one lesse?
Or prostitute my witt,
To a more Customarie Dresse?
I am not borne a Slave;
If Fortune worse contrive,
Nature intended better. Yet I have
Somewhat She cannot take, She did not give.
There am I brave:
A Monarch free, though I in fetters Live.
3
Ah! but I must resigne;For I am not my owne, to Say,
Or Doe. Nothing of mine
But I submitt, to the worne way
Of Custome; I will write
Full Panegerickes to
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Foule Crimes; and tell Posteritie, wee owe
To those that fight
Soe good a Cause, all wee can Say or Doe.
4
Yes, I will say it! andPut off my Nature, for a while;
My witt, to anie hand
Entrust; and sing, for a State Smile,
Or potent Countenance!
'Tis wisedome to forgett,
Sometimes, our Interests; wise men make Chance
A Deitie. 'Tis madnes to love witt;
May disadvance
A further reach; I'me taught; and I submitt.
5
Were I an Atome, inThe Age's Glasse, I must run free,
Or stop the passage. Men
Are Sands, and run Successivelie,
Each in his way and Place.
If any make a Stop,
The rest want Motion; Each graine, to the Masse
Contributes, to the consummating vp
Of the full Glasse;
And, as the lowest Slide, soe sinkes the Toppe.
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6
But thus I trifle out,In weake Surmises, all my Inke;
And loose my better thought,
Whilest I of Time, or customes thinke.
My Numbers not Enthralled,
I will noe longer Span,
By that vncertaine Measure; I have fail'd
And let some better Liricke, if he can,
Prove it Entailed,
From Theban Lire, and Sweet Dircean Swan.
Goe from me now, for many Daies; perchance
Ere I expect, my Qvill and I may meet
On safer Termes, with Honour to advance
Raptures of wonder, to the Royall Seat.
Goe from me far, till then; which if my Song
Erre not with Time, shall not be absent Long.
Ere I expect, my Qvill and I may meet
On safer Termes, with Honour to advance
Raptures of wonder, to the Royall Seat.
Goe from me far, till then; which if my Song
Erre not with Time, shall not be absent Long.
Deare Muses, wee must part; yet let me give
A verse to Time, in charge of my Desire.
Noe hand, if I am Dead, and these shall live,
Iniure a Line, or word, I you require.
Enioy with Freedome, all your owne conceit,
Let mine not be infring'd, but Equall Great:
For Poets sometimes Fancies bring,
When Readers nothing can discerne;
And they, perhaps, may find something
Shall sett him, in his owne, to learne.
And, happilie, a hidden Flame
Of Honour rests, which never came
Within the Reach of Either; yet more true
Then both, to Iudgement. Neither I nor You
Must Iudge our owne.
A verse to Time, in charge of my Desire.
Noe hand, if I am Dead, and these shall live,
Iniure a Line, or word, I you require.
Enioy with Freedome, all your owne conceit,
Let mine not be infring'd, but Equall Great:
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When Readers nothing can discerne;
And they, perhaps, may find something
Shall sett him, in his owne, to learne.
And, happilie, a hidden Flame
Of Honour rests, which never came
Within the Reach of Either; yet more true
Then both, to Iudgement. Neither I nor You
Must Iudge our owne.
Adieu.
The Ende.
A Postscript.
These Poems are the onlie remaining Testimonie of some howers which the Author gave vp to the muses; many others from the same Pen, of more consideration, are lost. Hee invites noe man to the expence of his monie or Time, vpon these Fragments; which were intended not to the publike Eye, but his owne retired Fancies, to make Light that burthen which some grone vnder; and had not the request of an endeared Freind prevailed, they had not Exceeded his intention; nor the world (perhaps) in anie Sence pittyed Him. Iuly 17, 1647.
| The poems of George Daniel | |