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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ODE.
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 | The Works of Mr Abraham Cowley |  |
ODE.
Upon occasion of a Copy of Verses of my Lord Broghills.
[[1.]]
Be gon (said I) Ingrateful Muse, and seeWhat others thou canst fool as well as me.
Since I grew Man, and wiser ought to be,
My business and my hopes I left for thee:
407
I left, even when a Boy, my Play.
But say, Ingrateful Mistress, say,
What for all this, what didst Thou ever pay?
Thou'lt say, perhaps, that Riches are
Not of the growth of Lands, where thou dost Trade,
And I, as well my Countrey might upbraid
Because I have no vineyard there.
Well: but in Love, thou dost pretend to Reign,
There thine the power and Lordship is,
Thou bad'st me write, and write, and write again;
'Twas such a way as could not miss.
I like a Fool, did thee Obey,
I wrote, and wrote, but still I wrote in vain,
For after all my expense of Wit and Pain,
A rich, unwriting Hand, carry'd the Prize away.
2.
Thus I complain'd, and straight the Muse reply'd,That she had given me Fame.
Bounty Immense! And that too must be try'd,
When I my self am nothing but a name.
Who now, what Reader does not strive
T'invalidate the gift whilst w'are alive?
For when a Poet now himself doth show,
As if he were a common Foe,
All draw upon him, all around,
And every part of him they wound,
Happy the Man that gives the deepest blow:
And this is all, kind Muse, to thee we owe.
Then in a rage I took
And out at window threw
Ovid and Horace, all the chiming Crew,
Homer himself went with them too,
Hardly escap'd the sacred Mantuan Book:
I my own Off-spring, like Agave tore
And I resolv'd, nay and I think I swore,
That I no more the Ground would Till and Sow,
Where only flowry Weeds instead of Corn did grow.
408
3.
When (see the subtil ways which Fate does find,Rebellious man to bind,
Just to the work for which he is assign'd)
The Muse came in more chearful than before,
And bad me quarrel with her now no more.
Loe thy reward! look here and see,
What I have made (said she)
My Lover, and belov'd, my Broghil do for thee.
Though thy own verse no lasting fame can give,
Thou shalt at least in his for ever live.
What Criticks, the great Hectors now in Wit,
Who Rant and Challenge all men that have Writ,
Will dare t' oppose thee when
Broghil in thy defence has drawn his conquering Pen?
I rose and bow'd my head,
And pardon askt for all that I had said,
Well satisfi'd and proud,
I straight resolv'd, and solemnly I vow'd,
That from her service now I ne'r would part.
So strongly, large Rewards work on a grateful Heart.
4.
Nothing so soon the drooping Spirits can raiseAs Praises from the Men, whom all men praise.
'Tis the best Cordial, and which only those
Who have at home th' Ingredients can compose,
A Cordial, that restores our fainting Breath,
And keeps up Life even after Death.
The only danger is, lest it should be
Too strong a remedie:
Lest, in removing cold, it should beget
Too violent a heat;
And into madness, turn the Lethargie.
Ah! Gracious God! that I might see
A time when it were dangerous for me
To be o're heat with Praise!
But I within me bear (alas) too great allayes.
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5.
'Tis said, Apelles, when he Venus drew,Did naked Women for his pattern view,
And with his powerful fancy did refine
Their humane shapes into a form Divine;
None who had set could her own Picture see,
Or say, One part was drawn for me:
So, though this nobler Painter when he writ,
Was pleas'd to think it fit
That my Book should before him sit,
Not as a cause, but an occasion to his wit:
Yet what have I to boast, or to apply
To my advantage out of it, since I,
Instead of my own likeness, only find
The bright Idea there, of the great Writers mind?
| The Works of Mr Abraham Cowley | |