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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 | Mr. Cooke's Original Poems |  |
95
ODES.
97
ODE the First, TO Mr. John Mottley in the Country.
I
Strongly, dear Friend, paint in thy Mind,A Wretch, the Remnant of a Wreck,
In Sight of Land, yet, Fate unkind!
By cruel Waves still driven back.
II
So, in his Schemes, the Poet cross'd,When Chance, or Envy, blasts the Bays,
He, to his tasteless Patron loss'd,
Despairs of Profit, or of Praise.
98
III
What mighty Plans thy Friend has lay'd,What golden Indias had in View,
Thou know'st, and how his Toils are pay'd;
Yet still he dares his Flight renew.
IV
While thus the Muse is held in Scorn,No Suns of Joy to me are known;
But few observe the Bard forlorn:
My Griefs I only make my own.
V
Does Heav'n no joyous Minutes send?No Balm to all thy Sorrows give?
Yes, I have Hours of Bliss, my Friend,
In which I more than seem to live.
VI
The Hours to Friendship set apart,In which the Wretch his Comfort finds,
Relieve the Burden of the Heart:
True Source of Joy to noble Minds!
99
VII
But, like th'ecstatic Dreams of Love,Too swift those happy Moments flow:
Then, in my Round, again I rove
Thro a long Interval of Woe.
VIII
While thus I grapple with my Fate,These tender Thoughts of Friendship please:
Methinks I view thee in a State,
Where Nothing interrupts thine Ease.
IX
Or wand'ring in the woodland Glade,Or by the painted Meadow's Stream,
Or lay'd beneath the cooling Shade,
You make the tender Nymph your Theme.
X
Indulge, my Friend, thy modest Vein,While all the Joys of May inspire;
Prospects, gay smiling, aid the Strain,
Scenes all propitious to the Lyre!
100
XI
Enjoy, my Friend, thy happy Lot,The Monarch of a peaceful Mind;
And I am bless'd, my Cares forgot,
While thou art true, and Nanny kind.
May, 1725.
101
ODE the Second, To Phillis.
O! behold in yonder Bow'rOf the Flow'rs the sweetest Flow'r!
Slumb'ring sits the heav'nly Maid,
In her virgin White aray'd:
See the Hope of ev'ry Swain,
Rose and Lilly of the Plain.
'E're she wakes the Danger fly;
Phillis murders with her Eye:
Who could backward turn his Feet?
Who from Paradise retreat?
Where shall I her Praise begin?
With the softly dimpled Chin,
With the Bows her Eyes above,
Or her Breast the Throne of Love,
Or her Lips? Those Lips I meet:
Heart, was ever Kiss so sweet!
Lo the gentle Slumber's fled;
And the Nymph uprears her Head.
102
Let thy Smiles improve the Scene.
Phillis, oft' I've beg'd in vain
At thy Feet to sigh my Pain;
Slight no more the tender Vow;
Hear me, Virgin, hear me now.
Lowly thus to thee I fall;
Take my Heart, O! take me all!
Bless'd the Hand, thrice bless'd the Fair,
Who has rais'd me from Despair!
On thy Bosom let me rest,
Take me, Phillis, to thy Breast:
Take, O! George, the Land and Main;
Here alone I wish to reign.
Thus Anacreon, ever gay,
Lov'd, and pass'd his Life away;
To the Fair his Lyre he strung;
Thus he lov'd, but sweeter sung.
103
ODE the Third, To the Same.
See the Lilly hang her Head;See the rich Carnation dead;
Turn, and see thy much lov'd Rose
Drop to ev'ry Gale that blows;
See their leaffy Honours round
Unregarded strew the Ground.
Does my lovely Phillis sigh?
Hangs the Pearl upon her Eye?
Thus my Charmer must thou be
When thou'st left the Day and me.
With the Bays my Temples cover;
Crown thy fond romantic Lover:
Hither come beneath the Shade
Of the Leaves which never fade.
Swim thine Eyes, and heaves thy Breast?
Phillis is inclin'd to Rest.
104
ODE the Fourth, To the Same.
O'er the Lawn my Phillis flysWhere her panting Lover lys;
Hither fair one haste away;
Let me chide thy Minute's Stay.
Lay thee, Phillis, by my Side;
Give me what the Gods provide.
Hear the billing Turtles coo;
Like the Turtles let us woo.
Does my lovely Phillis tremble?
Now in vain thou may'st dissemble;
From the Kiss is all thy Anguish,
See me, Phillis, see, I languish;
Let us kiss, and kiss again;
Great the Pleasure from the Pain!
Phillis, O! the Shade befriends us!
And here Love himself attends us!
Nymph no longer close thine Eyes;
Gentle Phillis let us rise.
105
ODE the Fifth, To the Same.
Bear the flowing Bowl away;Break the Lyre; and cease the Lay;
My belov'd is gone astray.
Shew me to the happyer Swain,
That Revenge may ease my Pain:
Thence in vain I seek Redress;
What could Youth and Passion less?
He that dares oppose her Eyes
Either vanquishes or dys;
Therefore who the Youth can blame?
I myself had done the same.
Cruel Phillis I accuse,
Once my Love, and once my Muse.
Call to Mind the Vows you made,
On the Bank beneath the Shade!
When you swore by ev'ry Pow'r
In the fond ecstatic Hour.
106
Phillis, fickle as the Wind?
Phillis thou art free to range,
Free to love, and free to change.
I before had thee betray'd,
Had I found a fairer Maid.
107
ODE the Sixth, To the Same.
Raving now I seek my Bed,Whence Content and Rest are fled;
If by chance I close my Eyes,
Phillis still before me flys.
See in Dalliance soft they play;
From his Arms she breaks away:
See the faithless Dame pursued,
Willing soon to be subdued;
See, she acts the well known Part,
Gives her Hand, and then her Heart:
Poyson to my Sight! she flings
At my Breast a thousand Stings.
Flys the Dream that caus'd my Pains;
But the Torture still remains.
108
ODE the Seventh, To the Same.
Phillis from this Hour adieu,Fair no more, no longer true;
I my wand'ring Heart recall;
Take thy Vows I quit them all:
Henceforth thou no more shalt be
Than a vulgar Maid to me.
Phillis from this Hour adieu,
Fair no more, no longer true.
Why should I, presumptuous Swain,
Dare to cherish Hopes so vain,
That the Heav'ns would hear my Pray'r
For a Love as chast as fair.
Phillis thou hast prov'd no more
Than a thousand Belles before
Have to Men who them believ'd,
Plighted Vows, and then deceiv'd.
Such was Delia to Tibullus,
Lesbia such to fond Catullus.
109
Of the Sex, and slighted Pains.
Phillis thou art free to rove
As the Natives of the Grove:
From this Moment, Nymph, adieu,
Fair no more, no longer true.
110
ODE the Eighth, To the Same.
I
While, Phillis, on thy Charms I gaze,My Soul is all Desire;
Who can oppose so bright a Blaze,
Secure his Heart from Fire!
II
While thoughtful of the perjur'd Maid,Fair Phillis I despise,
Nor longer fear, by her betray'd,
The Tyrants in her Eyes:
III
But when I meet the faithless DameMy Soul is all Desire;
So weak my Vows, I catch the Flame,
And in a Blaze expire.
111
ODE the Ninth, To Celia.
I
Celia , boasted Child of Beauty,Ambitious of a spotless Name,
Mindful of her humble Duty,
Avoids the common Road to Fame.
II
Florio, of his Apparel vain,Labours to charm th'unwary Eye;
While Celia views him with Disdain,
For her a Croud of Florios dy.
III
Fond Dapperwit, to win the Fair,Attempts the Pow'r of Love to sing,
While she condemns to long Despair
The flutt'ring and the rhyming Thing.
112
IV
Alike offensive to the wise,The empty Fop, the barren Lays,
With Justice, Celia, you despise;
When they accuse you most they praise.
113
ODE the Tenth, To the Same.
In the Month from Julius nam'd,In the Grove for Music fam'd,
Where the Belles of Britain's Isle,
Where the Loves and Graces smile,
Where to many a manly Heart
Cupid throws th'unerring Dart,
While the sweet enliv'ning Sound
Fills with Harmony the Ground,
Damon thus in Rapture cry'd,
Celia sighing by his Side,
“How the Soul receives Surprise,
“At our Ears, and at our Eyes!
“Soon, too soon, a fatal Hour
“Strips the Grove of all its Pow'r;
114
“Here no longer then shall float:
“Nymphs, to charm by Nature made,
“Leave the unfrequented Shade.
“Haste, O! haste, great Eye of Day!
“Bring the sweet Return of May!
115
ODE the Eleventh, To Melissa.
As on a Bank where Vi'lets blow,The Shade above, a Stream below,
The Stream below, the Shade above,
Soft murm'ring to a Dream of Love,
I lay, a Nymph of heav'nly Mien,
With Voice divine, and Look serene,
Began: is this the Way to Fame,
And think you thus to raise a Name,
While here in lazy Easy you ly,
The Muses all neglected by?
No longer keep the Lyre unstrung,
Nor let Melissa live unsung:
Melissa, Glory of the Plains,
The envy'd Charmer of the Swains,
All spotless as the falling Snows,
Whose Breath is sweeter than the Rose;
Let chast Melissa fill your Lays,
Become immortal in her Praise!
116
Fancy her here; begin and draw.
She spoke, and, by her Air and Mien,
Confess'd herself the Cyprian Queen.
117
ODE the Twelfth, To the Same.
I
Tho now with Eyes of Love I gaze,And on thy Charms refine,
Not of thy Beauty all the Blaze
Can ever fix me thine.
II
Tho now I hear, with Transport hear,The Music of thy Voice,
'Tis not th'enchanting Tongue, my dear,
Can make me bless my Choice.
III
Let Honour, of thy Sex the Pride,Spotless preserve thy Mind,
To all chast as the Nymph untry'd,
Or, lo! my Vows are Wind.
118
ODE the Thirteenth. SYLVIA.
I
I Sylvia priz'd as Lillys fair,All fragrant as the morning Air,
And sweeter than the Lark her Voice.
With Ease she could my Cares beguile;
A Word, a tender Look, or Smile,
Would make the gloomy Soul rejoice.
II
When on her Breasts, expanded white,Heaving luxuriant with Delight,
I fondly lay'd my lovesick Head,
The Roses shed their Sweets around,
And Vi'lets breathing from the Ground
Compos'd the aromatic Bed.
119
III
Beneath the grateful Shade I ly,Hid almost from the Sun's great Eye;
Protect me all ye Pow'rs above!
O! keep me, ever fix me, here,
Where Nothing can create a Fear,
Where all is Softness, all is Love!
IV
Thus in the Ecstacy of Bliss,Just from the heart-dissolving Kiss,
I pray'd, alas! a heedless Swain;
For to that joyous fatal Hour,
(Was Poyson in so sweet a Flow'r?)
Succeeded Days on Days of Pain.
V
The Sailor so, with gladsome Eye,Th'unruffel'd Main, and azure Sky,
Views, while the Winds propitious blow:
Forward he steers, with Look serene,
Till, bulging on a Rock unseen,
Appears a sudden Face of Woe.
120
VI
Henceforth, unwary Youth, beware,Nor make such fleeting Joys your Care;
Let Virtue ever be your Guard.
Pleasures adieu, whose Fruits are Pain,
For Sages have not taught in vain,
That Virtue is her own Reward.
121
ODE the Fourteenth. BELLAMIRA.
I
When Bellamira was my Theme,I pluck'd the Vi'let and the Rose,
And, fondly raptur'd with the Dream,
Sought ev'ry Flow'r that sweetly blows;
And, as I deck'd her Breast and Hair,
They breath'd new Fragrance from the Fair.
II
When I her Mind or Person prais'd,To Bow'rs of Bliss beyond the Skys
The God of Love my Genius rais'd,
Where Beautys more than earthly rise,
With those her Beautys to compare;
The fairest she among the fair.
III
Vi'lets and Roses cease to blow,Each Flow'r of Fragrance droop your Head;
The Nymph, forgetful of her Vow,
Is from her Love, from Honour, fled:
122
For she is false as she is fair.
IV
To Bow'rs of Bliss beyond the SkysThe God of Love no more shall raise,
Where Beautys more than earthly rise,
My Genius to exalt her Praise,
No more with Angels shall compare
The Nymph as false as she is fair.
123
ODE the Fifteenth. THALIA.
The Trav'ler o'er the desart Plain,Thro Darkness in the Wind and Rain,
Forlornly lab'ring for his Way,
With Joy descrys the Dawn of Day.
From Wave to Wave the Sailor toss'd,
While in Despair and Midnight loss'd,
The Tempest less'ning by Degrees,
The polar Star with Transport sees.
Haste, haste, Thalia, to my Aid,
Thou lovely, grief-expelling, Maid:
To me thou'rt more delightful far,
Than is the Sun or polar Star.
124
ODE the Sixteenth. DINA.
I
Dina , while I view thy Beauty,To thy Charms I am a Slave;
To obey thee is my Duty;
Say what more would Dina have?
II
This Advice regard, my Treasure,Banish from thee far away
Those to whom thou'st breath'd our Pleasure:
Confidants too oft' betray.
III
Dina, such in Love and FightingAre, in the Event, the same,
Both alike, my Fair, delighting
To prevent the growing Flame.
125
IV
What will make our Love the StoryOf detractive Folly shun;
Let my Life, (how great the Glory!)
Prudence keep what Beauty won.
V
Vows to Heaven and the LoverAll the false and vain reveal;
Which we should alone discover
To the Objects of our Zeal.
126
ODE the Seventeenth. LONDON.
First Printed in the Year 1730.
I
Let antient Greece, for Arts and Arms renown'd,Her Athens boast, whose Sons, preserv'd by Fame,
Still triumph over Time with Glory crown'd,
Proud City! once tremendous in her Name!
While mighty Towns of former Days,
Now levell'd with the Dust, remain
Recorded for their letter'd Praise,
Or for the Numbers of their slain,
London of the fairest Isle
The Ornament and Honour stands;
Lo! her Streets with Plenty smile,
Diffusing Blessings thro her Lands!
Lo! her floating Castles ride,
Bringing Wealth with ev'ry Tide:
127
Fruitful bleeds for her the Vine:
For her the Sons of India toil
Beneath the burning Eye of Day;
They strip the aromatic Soil,
And send to her their Sweets away.
The distant Sun for London shines;
For London teem the golden Mines;
She thro the Land her Wealth bestows,
Which to her Bosom dayly flows:
Nor does she rob the foreign Fields,
But grateful sends what Britain yields.
Hail happyest City on the Ball,
Enriching, and enrich'd by, all!
II
While the sam'd City on th'Italian Coast,By Zealots now, to Reason blind, ador'd,
Makes her pass'd Glorys all her present Boast,
For conq'ring Nations with the barb'rous Sword,
Great Britain does her armed Bands,
Collected from her Island, send,
In Time of Need, to neighb'ring Lands,
Not to invade, but to defend:
128
With the rich purple Current stain'd,
Where the brave undaunted stood,
And never-fading Wreaths were gain'd.
Seas to Greece and Rome unknown
She may justly call her own;
When on them her Cannons roar,
Rebel Lands rebel no more,
With them she bold Intruders awes,
And rules herself by wholesome Laws.
Like to the Heart, the Reservoir
Of all our Blood, and Spring of Joy,
Is London to the British Plains:
That fills with Blood the craving Veins;
This pours her Wealth thro ev'ry Part,
Which runs again into the Heart.
Distinguish'd may the City stand,
Example fair to ev'ry Land.
Hail happyest City on the Ball,
Enriching, and enrich'd by, all!
129
ODE the Eighteenth. ON THE Birth of Lord Herbert In the Year 1734.
Born of Heros, and of Sages,Glorys all of all their Ages,
What illustrious Blood has run,
Rolling pure from Sire to Son,
Which with Time fresh Honour gains,
To enrich thy little Veins?
Worthys near to Kings ally'd,
Props of Kingdoms and their Pride,
Men the first in Man's Esteem,
Of the Muse the Friends and Theme,
Such as thou perhaps may'st be,
Hasten'd on to live in thee.
130
Never sprung the fearful Lamb:
From the tow'ring Eagle's Love
Never rose the tim'rous Dove:
May'st thou, with Encrease of Days,
Merit all thy House's Praise,
Judge in what their Virtues ly
With an emulating Eye:
Early may'st thou then inherit
All thy Father's manly Spirit.
When to nuptial Bands inclin'd,
May'st thou, like thy Father, find
One to crown with Joy thy Youth,
Deck'd with Beauty, Love, and Truth,
Whose majestic Form and Grace
May improve the noble Race.
131
ODE the Nineteenth. A New Year's Ode, or Ballad, For the Year 1741.
Come my Countrymen all, and, like Englishmen bold,Let us hail the new Year, nor speak well of the old:
Let us strive with our Might, let us pray, let us fast,
That the new may be better by much than the last.
Let us beg that a Parliament new may be giv'n;
Let us pray for the good Number three and not sev'n:
May our Fleets which so wantonly ride o'er the Main,
Which so gayly have rode it and rode it again,
132
With Conquest and Glory to return will be new.
May our Armys be useful at Home or abroad,
In subduing our Foes, or in mending the Road;
And, tho some are wrong-headed, may none be so wrong
As to quarrel with me, because of my new Song.
May our Bishops, (God bless them!) of Learning the Chief,
With the new Year, some of them, turn o'er a new Leaf!
May the State, if it wants it, be chang'd in each Thing;
Ev'ry Person be new there, except a new King:
And, that all who deserve it may have what is new,
May this Year give the Devil and Tyburn their Due.
| Mr. Cooke's Original Poems | |