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 |
 |
 |
|
|
|
Brutus.
|
|
|
 | The Works of Mr Abraham Cowley |  |
195
Brutus.
Excellent
Brutus, of all humane race,
The best till Nature was improv'ed by Grace,
Till men above themselves Faith raised more
Then Reason above Beasts before.
Virtue was thy Lifes Center, and from thence
Did silently and constantly dispense
The gentle vigorous Influence
To all the wide and fair Circumference:
And all the parts upon it lean'd so easilie,
Obey'd the mighty force so willinglie
That none could discord or disorder see
In all their Contrarietie.
Each had his motion natural and free,
And the Whole no more mov'ed then the whole World could be.
The best till Nature was improv'ed by Grace,
Till men above themselves Faith raised more
Then Reason above Beasts before.
Virtue was thy Lifes Center, and from thence
Did silently and constantly dispense
The gentle vigorous Influence
To all the wide and fair Circumference:
And all the parts upon it lean'd so easilie,
Obey'd the mighty force so willinglie
That none could discord or disorder see
In all their Contrarietie.
Each had his motion natural and free,
And the Whole no more mov'ed then the whole World could be.
2.
From thy strict rule some think that thou didst swerve(Mistaken Honest men) in Cæsars blood;
What Mercy could the Tyrants Life deserve,
From him who kill'd Himself rather then serve?
Th'Heroick Exaltations of Good
Are so far from Understood,
We count them Vice: alas our Sight's so ill,
That things which swiftest Move seem to stand still.
We look not upon Virtue in her height,
On her supreme Idea, brave and bright,
In the Original Light:
But as her Beams reflected pass
Through our own Nature or ill Customs Glass.
And 'tis no wonder so,
If with dejected Ey
In standing Pools we seek the sky,
That Stars so high above should seem to us below.
196
3.
Can we stand by and seeOur Mother robb'ed, and bound, and ravisht be,
Yet not to her assistance stir,
Pleas'd with the Strength and Beauty of the Ravisher?
Or shall we fear to kill him, if before
The cancell'd Name of Friend he bore?
Ingrateful Brutus do they call?
Ingrateful Cæsar who could Rome enthrall!
An act more barbarous and unnatural
(In th'exact ballance of true Virtue try'de)
Then his Successor Nero's Parricide!
There's none but Brutus could deserve
That all men else should wish to serve,
And Cæsars usurpt place to him should proffer;
None can deserve't but he who would refuse the offer.
4.
Ill Fate assum'ed a Body thee t'affright,And wrapt itself i'th' terrors of the night,
I'll meet thee at Philippi, said the Spright;
I'll meet thee there, saidst Thou,
With such a voyce, and such a brow,
As put the trembling Ghost to sudden flight,
It vanisht as a Tapers light
Goes out when Spirits appear in sight.
One would have thought t'had heard the morning crow,
Or seen her well-appointed Star
Come marching up the Eastern Hill afar.
Nor durst it in Philippi's field appear,
But unseen attaqu'ed thee there.
Had it presum'ed in any shape thee to oppose,
Thou wouldst have foro'ed it back upon thy foes:
Or slain't like Cæsar, though it be
A Conqu'eror and a Monarch mightier far then He.
5.
What joy can humane things to us afford,When we see perish thus by odde events,
Ill men, and wretched Accidents,
The best Cause and best Man that ever drew a Sword?
197
The false Octavius, and wild Antonie,
God-like Brutus, conquer Thee?
What can we say but thine own Tragick Word,
That Virtue, which had worshipt been by thee
As the most solid Good, and greatest Deitie,
By this fatal proof became
An Idol only, and a Name,
Hold noble Brutus and restrain
The bold voyce of thy generous Disdain:
These mighty Gulphs are yet
Too deep for all thy Judgment and thy Wit.
The Time's set forth already which shall quell
Stiff Reason, when it offers to Rebell.
Which these great Secrets shall unseal,
And new Philosophies reveal.
A few years more, so soon hadst thou not dy'ed,
Would have confounded Humane Virtues pride,
And shew'd thee a God crucifi'ed.
| The Works of Mr Abraham Cowley | |