The Works of Mr Abraham Cowley :: :: University of Virginia Library

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

Cowley, Abraham (1618-1667)

[section]

[dedication]

[subsection]

To his deare Friend and Schoole-fellow Abraham Cowley, on his flourishing and hopefull Blossomes.

To his Friend and Schoole-fellow Abraham Cowley, on his Poeticall Blossomes.

[subsection]

To the Reader.

[subsection]

CONSTANTIA AND PHILETUS.

[subsection]

To the Right Worshipfull, my very loving Master, Master Lambert Osbolston, chiefe Schoolmaster of Westminster-Schoole.

THE TRAGICALL HISTORY OF Pyramus and Thisbe.

[subsection]

An Elegie on the Death of the Right Honourable, Dudley Lord Carleton, Viscount Dorchester, late Principall Secretary of State.

An Elegie on the death of my loving Friend and Cousen, Master Richard Clerke, late of Lincolns Inne, Gent.

A DREAME OF ELYSIUM.

SYLVA,

On his Majesties returne out of Scotland.

A Song on the same.

A Vote.

A Poeticall Revenge.

To the Duchesse of Buckingham.

To his very much honoured Godfather, Master A. B.

An Elegie on the Death of Mris Anne Whitfield.

An Elegie on the Death of John Littleton Esquire, Sonne and Heire to Sir Thomas Littleton, who was drowned leaping into the water to save his younger Brother.

A translation of Verses upon the B. Virgin, written in Latine by the right Worshipfull Dr. A.

Ave Maria.

Gratia Plena.

Dominus tecum.

Benedicta tu in mulieribus.

Et benedictus fructus ventris tui.

Spiritus Sanctus superveniet in te.

Et virtus altissimi obumbrabit tibi.

ODE I. On the praise of Poetry.

ODE II. That a pleasant Poverty is to be preferred before discontented Riches.

ODE III. To his Mistris.

ODE IV. On the uncertainty of Fortune. A Translation.

ODE V. In commendation of the time we live under the Reign of our gracious K. Charles.

ODE VI. Upon the shortnesse of Mans life.

An Answer to an Invitation to Cambridge.

A SATYRE. THE PURITAN AND THE PAPIST.

A DISCOURSE By way of VISION, Concerning the Government of Oliver Cromwell.

[Ah, happy Isle, how art thou chang'd and curst]

[Curst be the Man (what do I wish? as though]

[It is a Truth so certain, and so clear]

[When, Lo, e're the last words were fully spoke]

Several Discourses by way of Essays, in Verse and Prose.

1. Of Liberty.

[Who governs his own course with steddy hand]

[Magne Deus, quod ad has vitœ brevis attinet horas]

[Hail, old Patrician Trees, so great and good!]

3. Of Obscurity.

Seneca, ex Thyeste, Act. 2. Chor.

A Paraphrase upon the 10th Epistle of the first Book of Horace.

[I'dmire, Mecænas, how it comes to pass]

A Paraphrase on an Ode in Horace's third Book, beginning thus, Inclusam Danaen turris ahenea.

[8.] The dangers of an Honest man in much Company.

Claudian's Old Man of Verona.

9. The shortness of Life and uncertainty of Riches.

[Why dost thou heap up Wealth, which thou must quit]

10.

10. The danger of Procrastination.

Mart. Lib. 5. Epigr. 59.

Mart. Lib. 2. Ep. 90.

11.

11. Of My self.

[This only grant me, that my means may lye]

Martial. L. 10. Ep. 47.

Martial Book 10. Epigram 96.

To the Duke of Buckingham, upon his Marriage with the Lord Fairfax his Daughter.

[subsection]

A POEM On the late CIVIL WAR.

APPENDIX.

Coolyes verses uppon my Lady Elisabeth birth on Christmass even 1635. (From Harleian MSS. 6383: first printed by Dr Grosart in his Edition of Cowley.)

Upon the happie Birth of the Duke. From Voces Votivae ab Academicis Cantabrigiensibus etc. MDCXL.

To the Lord Falkland. For his safe Return from the Northern Expedition against the SCOTS.

On the Death of Sir Henry Wootton.

On the Death of Mr. Jordan,

On his Majesties Return out of Scotland.

On the Death of Sir Anthony Vandike,

Prometheus ill-painted.

ODE.

Friendship in Absence.

To the Bishop of Lincoln,

To a Lady who made Posies for Rings.

Prologue to the Guardian

The Epilogue.

On the Death of Mr. William Hervey.

ODE.

In imitation of Martials Epigram.

The Chronicle.

To Sir William Davenant.

An Answer to a Copy of Verses sent me to Jersey.

The Tree of Knowledge.

Reason.

On the Death of Mr. Crashaw.

II.

III.

IV.

VI.

VII.

VIII.

IX.

XI.

ELEGIE UPON ANACREON,

Written in Juice of Lemmon.

Leaving Me, and then loving Many.

My Heart discovered.

Answer to the Platonicks.

Resolved to be beloved.

The Heart fled again.

[Then like some wealthy Island thou shalt ly]

Looking on, and discoursing with his Mistress.

Verses lost upon a Wager.

Bathing in the River.

Love given over.

Pindarique ODES,

THE SECOND Olympique Ode OF PINDAR.

THE FIRST Nemeæan Ode OF PINDAR.

The Praise of Pindar.

The 34. Chapter of the Prophet Isaiah.

The Plagues of Egypt.

II.

III.

IV.

Verses written on several occasions.

CHRISTS PASSION

On Orinda's Poems.

ODE.

Upon the Death of the Earl of Balcarres.

ODE.

On the Queens Repairing Somerset House.

The Complaint.

The Adventures of Five hours.

On the death of Mrs. Katherine Philips.

Hymn. To light.

To the Royal Society.

Upon the Chair made out of Sir Francis Drakes ship, Presented to the University Library in Oxford, by John Davis of Deptford, Esquire.

Collapse All | Expand All expand section

My Heart discovered.

Her body is so gently bright,
Clear, and transparent to the sight,
(Clear as fair Christal to the view,
Yet soft as that, e're Stone it grew,)
That through her flesh, methinks, is seen
The brighter Soul that dwells within:
Our eyes the subtile covering pass,
And see that Lilly through its Glass.
I through her Breast her Heart espy,
As Souls in hearts do Souls descry,
I see't with gentle Motions beat;
I see Light in't, but find no Heat.
Within, like Angels in the sky,
A thousand guilded thoughts do fly:
Thoughts of bright and noblest kind,
Fair and chast, as Mother-Mind.
But, oh, what other Heart is there,
Which sighs and crouds to hers so neer?

'Tis all on flame, and does like fire,
To that, as to its Heaven, aspire,
The wounds are many in't and deep;
Still does it bleed, and still does weep.
Whose ever wretched heart it be,
I cannot chuse but grieve to see;
What pity in my Breast does raign?
Methinks I feel too all its pain.
So torn, and so defac'd it lies,
That it could ne're be known by th' eyes;
But, oh, at last I heard it grone,
And knew by th' Voyce that 'twas mine own.
So poor Alcione, when she saw
A shipwrackt body tow'ards her draw
Beat by the Waves, let fall a Tear,
Which only then did Pity wear:
But when the Corps on shore were cast,
Which she her Husband found at last;
What should the wretched Widow do?
Grief chang'd her straight; away she flew,
Turn'd to a Bird: and so at last shall I,
Both from my Murther'd Heart, and Murth'rer fly.