 | Poems, with The tenth Satyre of Iuvenal Englished |  |
------Tam nil, nullâ tibi vendo
Illiade------
Illiade------
3
To my Ingenuous Friend, R. W.
When we are dead, and now, no more
Our harmles mirth, our wit, and score
Distracts the Towne; when all is spent
That the base niggard world hath lent
Thy purse, or mine; when the loath'd noise
Of Drawers, Prentises, and boyes
Hath left us, and the clam'rous barre
Items no pints i'th' Moone, or Starre;
When no calme whisp'rers wait the doores,
To fright us with forgotten scores;
And such aged, long bils carry,
As might start an Antiquary;
When the sad tumults of the Maze,
Arrests, suites, and the dreadfull face
Of Seargeants are not seene, and wee
No Lawyers Ruffes, or Gownes must fee:
When all these Mulcts are paid, and I
From thee, deare wit, must part, and dye;
Wee'le beg the world would be so kinde,
To give's one grave, as wee'de one minde;
There (as the wiser few suspect,
That spirits after death affect)
Our soules shall meet, and thence will they
(Freed from the tyranny of clay)
With equall wings, and ancient love
Into the Elysian fields remove,
Where in those blessed walkes they'le find,
More of thy Genius, and my mind:
Our harmles mirth, our wit, and score
Distracts the Towne; when all is spent
That the base niggard world hath lent
Thy purse, or mine; when the loath'd noise
Of Drawers, Prentises, and boyes
4
Items no pints i'th' Moone, or Starre;
When no calme whisp'rers wait the doores,
To fright us with forgotten scores;
And such aged, long bils carry,
As might start an Antiquary;
When the sad tumults of the Maze,
Arrests, suites, and the dreadfull face
Of Seargeants are not seene, and wee
No Lawyers Ruffes, or Gownes must fee:
When all these Mulcts are paid, and I
From thee, deare wit, must part, and dye;
Wee'le beg the world would be so kinde,
To give's one grave, as wee'de one minde;
5
That spirits after death affect)
Our soules shall meet, and thence will they
(Freed from the tyranny of clay)
With equall wings, and ancient love
Into the Elysian fields remove,
Where in those blessed walkes they'le find,
More of thy Genius, and my mind:
First, in the shade of his owne bayes,
Great BEN they'le see, whose sacred Layes,
The learned Ghosts admire, and throng,
To catch the subject of his Song.
Then Randolph in those holy Meades,
His Looers, and Amyntas reads,
Whilst his Nightingall close by,
Sings his, and her owne Elegie;
From thence dismiss'd by subtill roades,
Through airie paths, and sad aboads;
They'le come into the drowsie fields
Of Lethe, which such vertue yeelds,
That (if what Poets sing be true)
The streames all sorrow can subdue.
Here on a silent, shady greene;
The soules of Lovers oft are seene,
Who in their lifes unhappy space,
Were murther'd by some perjur'd face.
All these th'inchanted streames frequent,
To drowne their Cares, and discontent,
That th'inconstant, cruell sex
Might not in death their spirits vex:
Great BEN they'le see, whose sacred Layes,
The learned Ghosts admire, and throng,
To catch the subject of his Song.
Then Randolph in those holy Meades,
His Looers, and Amyntas reads,
6
Sings his, and her owne Elegie;
From thence dismiss'd by subtill roades,
Through airie paths, and sad aboads;
They'le come into the drowsie fields
Of Lethe, which such vertue yeelds,
That (if what Poets sing be true)
The streames all sorrow can subdue.
Here on a silent, shady greene;
The soules of Lovers oft are seene,
Who in their lifes unhappy space,
Were murther'd by some perjur'd face.
All these th'inchanted streames frequent,
To drowne their Cares, and discontent,
7
Might not in death their spirits vex:
And here our soules bigge with delight
Of their new state will cease their flight:
And now the last thoughts will appeare,
They'le have of us, or any here;
But on those flowry banks will stay,
And drinke all sense, and cares away.
So they that did of these discusse,
Shall find their fables true in us.
Of their new state will cease their flight:
And now the last thoughts will appeare,
They'le have of us, or any here;
But on those flowry banks will stay,
And drinke all sense, and cares away.
So they that did of these discusse,
Shall find their fables true in us.
8
Les Amours.
Tyrant farewell: This heart, the prize
And triumph of thy scornfull eyes,
I sacrifice to Heaven, and give
To quit my sinnes, that durst believe
A Womans easie faith, and place
True joyes in a changing face.
And triumph of thy scornfull eyes,
I sacrifice to Heaven, and give
To quit my sinnes, that durst believe
A Womans easie faith, and place
True joyes in a changing face.
Yet e're I goe; by all those teares,
And sighs I spent 'twixt hopes, and feares;
By thy owne glories, and that houre
Which first inslav'd me to thy power;
I beg, faire One, by this last breath,
This tribute from thee after death.
If when I'm gone, you chance to see
That cold bed where I lodged bee:
Let not your hate in death appeare,
But blesse my ashes with a teare:
This influxe from that quickning eye,
By secret pow'r, which none can spie,
The cold dust shall informe, and make
Those flames (though dead) new life partake.
Whose warmth help'd by your tears shall bring,
O're all the tombe a sudden spring:
If Crimson flowers, whose drooping heads
Shall curtaine o're their mournfull heads:
And on each leafe by Heavens command,
These Emblemes to the life shall stand:
And sighs I spent 'twixt hopes, and feares;
9
Which first inslav'd me to thy power;
I beg, faire One, by this last breath,
This tribute from thee after death.
If when I'm gone, you chance to see
That cold bed where I lodged bee:
Let not your hate in death appeare,
But blesse my ashes with a teare:
This influxe from that quickning eye,
By secret pow'r, which none can spie,
The cold dust shall informe, and make
Those flames (though dead) new life partake.
Whose warmth help'd by your tears shall bring,
O're all the tombe a sudden spring:
10
Shall curtaine o're their mournfull heads:
And on each leafe by Heavens command,
These Emblemes to the life shall stand:
Two Hearts, the first a shast withstood;
The second, shot, and washt in bloud;
And on this heart a dew shall stay,
Which no heate can court away;
But fixt for ever witnesse beares,
That hearty sorrow feeds on teares.
Thus Heaven can make it knowne, and true,
That you kill'd me, 'cause I lov'd you.
The second, shot, and washt in bloud;
And on this heart a dew shall stay,
Which no heate can court away;
But fixt for ever witnesse beares,
That hearty sorrow feeds on teares.
Thus Heaven can make it knowne, and true,
That you kill'd me, 'cause I lov'd you.
11
To Amoret, The Sigh.
Nimble Sigh on thy warme wings,
Take this Message, and depart,
Tell Amoret, that smiles, and sings.
At what thy airie voyage brings,
That thou cam'st lately from my heart.
Take this Message, and depart,
Tell Amoret, that smiles, and sings.
At what thy airie voyage brings,
That thou cam'st lately from my heart.
Tell my lovely foe, that I
Have no more such spies to send,
But one or two that I intend
Some few minutes ere I dye,
To her white bosome to commend.
Have no more such spies to send,
But one or two that I intend
Some few minutes ere I dye,
To her white bosome to commend.
12
Then whisper by that holy Spring
Where for her sake I would have dyed,
Whilst those water Nymphs did bring
Flowers to cure what she had tryed;
And of my faith, and love did sing.
Where for her sake I would have dyed,
Whilst those water Nymphs did bring
Flowers to cure what she had tryed;
And of my faith, and love did sing.
That if my Amoret, if she
In after-times would have it read,
How her beauty murther'd mee,
With all my heart I will agree,
If shee'le but love me, being dead.
In after-times would have it read,
How her beauty murther'd mee,
With all my heart I will agree,
If shee'le but love me, being dead.
13
To his Friend Being in Love.
Aske Lover, ere thou dyest; let one poor breath
Steale from thy lips, to tell her of thy Death;
Doating Idolater! can silence bring
Thy Saint propitious? or will Cupid fling
One arrow for thy palenes? leave to trye
This silent Courtship of a sickly eye;
Witty to tyranny: She too well knowes
This but the incense of thy private vowes,
That breaks forth at thine eyes, and doth betray
The sacrifice thy wounded heart would pay;
Aske her, foole, aske her, if words cannot move,
The language of thy teares may make her love:
Steale from thy lips, to tell her of thy Death;
Doating Idolater! can silence bring
Thy Saint propitious? or will Cupid fling
One arrow for thy palenes? leave to trye
This silent Courtship of a sickly eye;
Witty to tyranny: She too well knowes
This but the incense of thy private vowes,
14
The sacrifice thy wounded heart would pay;
Aske her, foole, aske her, if words cannot move,
The language of thy teares may make her love:
Flow nimbly from me then; and when you fall
On her breasts warmer snow, O may you all,
By some strange Fate fixt there, distinctly lye
The much lov'd Volume of my Tragedy.
On her breasts warmer snow, O may you all,
By some strange Fate fixt there, distinctly lye
The much lov'd Volume of my Tragedy.
Where if you win her not, may this be read,
The cold that freez'd you so, did strike me dead.
The cold that freez'd you so, did strike me dead.
15
Song.
[Amyntas goe, thou art undone]
Amyntas goe, thou art undone,Thy faithfull heart is crost by fate;
That Love is better not begunne,
Where Love is come to love too late;
Had she professed hidden fires,
Or shew'd one knot that tyed her heart:
I could have quench'd my first desires,
And we had only met to part;
But Tyrant, thus to murther men,
And shed a Lovers harmles bloud,
16
Which he at first might have withstood;
Yet, who that saw faire Chloris weep
Such sacred dew, with such pure grace;
Durst thinke them fained teares, or seeke
For Treason in an Angels face:
This is her Art, though this be true,
Mens joyes are kil'd with griefes and feares;
Yet she like flowers opprest with dew,
Doth thrive and flourish in her teares:
This Cruell thou hast done, and thus,
That Face hath many servants slaine.
Though th'end be not to ruine us,
But to seeke glory by our paine.
17
To Amoret, Walking in a Starry Evening.
If
Amoret, that glorious Eye,
In the first birth of light,
And death of Night,
Had with those elder fires you spye
Scatter'd so high
Received forme, and sight;
In the first birth of light,
And death of Night,
Had with those elder fires you spye
Scatter'd so high
Received forme, and sight;
18
We might suspect in the vast Ring,
Amidst these golden glories,
And fierie stories;
Whether the Sunne had been the King,
And guide of Day,
Or your brighter eye should sway;
Amidst these golden glories,
And fierie stories;
Whether the Sunne had been the King,
And guide of Day,
Or your brighter eye should sway;
But, Amoret, such is my fate,
That if thy face a Starre
Had shin'd from farre,
I am perswaded in that state
'Twixt thee, and me,
Of some predestin'd sympathie.
That if thy face a Starre
Had shin'd from farre,
I am perswaded in that state
'Twixt thee, and me,
Of some predestin'd sympathie.
19
For sure such two conspiring minds,
Which no accident, or sight,
Did thus unite;
Whom no distance can confine,
Start, or decline,
One, for another, were design'd.
Which no accident, or sight,
Did thus unite;
Whom no distance can confine,
Start, or decline,
One, for another, were design'd.
20
To Amoret GONE FROM HIM.
Fancy, and I, last Evening walkt,And, Amoret, of thee we talkt;
The West just then had stolne the Sun,
And his last blushes were begun:
We sate, and markt how every thing
Did mourne his absence; How the Spring
That smil'd, and curl'd about his beames,
Whilst he was here, now check'd her streames
21
Were taught lesse noise, and smoother grace;
And in a slow, sad channell went,
Whisp'ring the banks their discontent:
The carelesse ranks of flowers that spread
Their perfum'd bosomes to his head,
And with an open, free Embrace,
Did entertaine his beamy face;
Like absent friends point to the West,
And on that weake reflection feast.
If Creatures then that have no sence,
But the loose tye of influence,
(Though fate, and time each day remove
Those things that element their love)
22
Why, Amoret, why should not wee.
A Song to Amoret.
If I were dead, and in my place,
Some fresher youth design'd,
To warme thee with new fires, and grace
Those Armes I left behind;
Some fresher youth design'd,
To warme thee with new fires, and grace
Those Armes I left behind;
Were he as faithfull as the Sunne,
That's wedded to the Sphere;
His bloud as chaste, and temp'rate runne,
As Aprils mildest teare;
That's wedded to the Sphere;
His bloud as chaste, and temp'rate runne,
As Aprils mildest teare;
23
Or were he rich, and with his heapes,
And spacious share of Earth,
Could make divine affection cheape,
And court his golden birth:
And spacious share of Earth,
Could make divine affection cheape,
And court his golden birth:
For all these Arts I'de not believe,
(No though he should be thine)
The mighty Amorist could give
So rich a heart as mine.
(No though he should be thine)
The mighty Amorist could give
So rich a heart as mine.
Fortune and beauty thou mightst finde,
And greater men then I:
But my true resolved minde,
They never shall come nigh.
And greater men then I:
But my true resolved minde,
They never shall come nigh.
24
For I not for an houre did love,
Or for a day desire,
But with my soule had from above,
This endles holy fire.
Or for a day desire,
But with my soule had from above,
This endles holy fire.
An Elegy.
['Tis true, I am undone; Yet e're I dye]
'Tis true, I am undone; Yet e're I dye,I'le leave these sighes, and teares a legacye
To after-Lovers; that remembring me,
Those sickly flames which now benighted be,
Fann'd by their warmer sighs may love; and prove
In them the Metempsuchosis of Love.
25
And sware that breath enrich'd the courser aire,
Lent Roses to your cheekes, made Flora bring
Her Nymphs with all the glories of the Spring
To waite upon thy face, and gave my heart
A pledge to Cupid for a quicker dart,
To arme those eyes against my selfe; to me
Thou owest that tongues bewitching harmonye:
I courted Angels from those upper joyes,
And made them leave their spheres to heare thy voice:
I made the Indian curse the houres he spent
To seeke his pearles, and wisely to repent
His former folly, and confesse a sinne
Charm'd by the brighter lustre of thy skinne.
26
Of Zephirus, and soft soules of the Spring:
And made (to ayre those cheeks wth fresher grace)
The warme Inspirers dwell upon thy face.
Oh! jam satis ------
27
A Rhapsodis.
[_]
Occasionally written upon a meeting with some of his friends at the Globe Taverne, in a Chamber painted over head with a Cloudy Skie, and some few dispersed Starres, and on the sides with Land scapes, Hills, Shepheards, and Sheep.
Darknes, & Stars i'th' mid day! they invite
Our active fancies to beleeve it night:
For Tavernes need no Sunne, but for a Signe,
Where rich Tobacco, and quick tapers shine;
And royall, witty Sacke, the Poets soule,
With brighter Suns then he doth guild the bowl;
As though the Pot, and Poet did agree,
Sack should to both Illuminator be.
That artificiall Cloud with it's curl'd brow,
Tels us 'tis late; and that blew space below
Is fir'd with many Stars, Marke, how they breake
In silent glaunces o're the hills, and speake
The Evening to the Plaines; where shot from far,
They meet in dumbe salutes, as one great Star.
Our active fancies to beleeve it night:
For Tavernes need no Sunne, but for a Signe,
Where rich Tobacco, and quick tapers shine;
28
With brighter Suns then he doth guild the bowl;
As though the Pot, and Poet did agree,
Sack should to both Illuminator be.
That artificiall Cloud with it's curl'd brow,
Tels us 'tis late; and that blew space below
Is fir'd with many Stars, Marke, how they breake
In silent glaunces o're the hills, and speake
The Evening to the Plaines; where shot from far,
They meet in dumbe salutes, as one great Star.
The roome (me thinks) growes darker; & the aire
Contracts a sadder colour, and lesse faire:
Or is't the Drawers skill, hath he no Arts
To blind us so, we cann't know pints from quarts?
No, no, 'tis night; looke where the jolly Clowne
Musters his bleating heard, and quits the Downe.
Harke! how his rude pipe frets the quiet aire,
Whilst ev'ry Hill proclaimes Lycoris faire.
Rich, happy man! that canst thus watch, and sleep,
Free from all cares; but thy wench, pipe & sheep.
Contracts a sadder colour, and lesse faire:
Or is't the Drawers skill, hath he no Arts
To blind us so, we cann't know pints from quarts?
29
Musters his bleating heard, and quits the Downe.
Harke! how his rude pipe frets the quiet aire,
Whilst ev'ry Hill proclaimes Lycoris faire.
Rich, happy man! that canst thus watch, and sleep,
Free from all cares; but thy wench, pipe & sheep.
But see the Moone is up; view where she stands
Centinell o're the doore, drawn by the hands
Of some base Painter, that for gaine hath made
Her face the Landmarke to the tipling trade.
This Cup to her, that to Endymion give;
'Twas wit at first, and wine that made them live:
Choake may the Painter! and his Boxe disclose
No other Colours then his fiery Nose;
And may we no more of his pencill see,
Then two Churchwardens, and Mortalitie.
Centinell o're the doore, drawn by the hands
Of some base Painter, that for gaine hath made
Her face the Landmarke to the tipling trade.
This Cup to her, that to Endymion give;
'Twas wit at first, and wine that made them live:
Choake may the Painter! and his Boxe disclose
No other Colours then his fiery Nose;
30
Then two Churchwardens, and Mortalitie.
Should we goe now a wandring, we should meet
With Catchpoles, whores, & Carts in ev'ry street:
Now when each narrow lane, each nooke & Cave,
Signe-posts, & shop-doors, pimp for ev'ry knave,
When riotous sinfull plush, and tell-tale spurs
Walk Fleetstreet, & the Strand, when the soft stirs
Of bawdy, ruffled Silks, turne night to day;
And the lowd whip, and Coach scolds all the way;
When lust of all sorts, and each itchie bloud
From the Tower-wharfe to Cymbelyne, and Lud,
Hunts for a Mate, and the tyr'd footman reeles
'Twixt chaire-men, torches, & the hackny wheels:
With Catchpoles, whores, & Carts in ev'ry street:
Now when each narrow lane, each nooke & Cave,
Signe-posts, & shop-doors, pimp for ev'ry knave,
When riotous sinfull plush, and tell-tale spurs
Walk Fleetstreet, & the Strand, when the soft stirs
Of bawdy, ruffled Silks, turne night to day;
And the lowd whip, and Coach scolds all the way;
When lust of all sorts, and each itchie bloud
From the Tower-wharfe to Cymbelyne, and Lud,
Hunts for a Mate, and the tyr'd footman reeles
'Twixt chaire-men, torches, & the hackny wheels:
31
Come, take the other dish; it is to him
That made his horse a Senatour: Each brim
Looke big as mine; The gallant, jolly Beast
Of all the Herd (you'le say) was not the least.
That made his horse a Senatour: Each brim
Looke big as mine; The gallant, jolly Beast
Of all the Herd (you'le say) was not the least.
Now crown the second bowle, rich as his worth,
I'le drinke it to he! that like fire broke forth
Into the Senates face, crost Rubicon,
And the States pillars, with their Lawes thereon:
And made the dull gray beards, & furr'd gowns fly
Into Brundusium to consult; and lye:
I'le drinke it to he! that like fire broke forth
Into the Senates face, crost Rubicon,
And the States pillars, with their Lawes thereon:
And made the dull gray beards, & furr'd gowns fly
Into Brundusium to consult; and lye:
This to brave Sylla! why should it be sed,
We drinke more to the living, then the dead?
Flatt'rers, and fooles doe use it: Let us laugh
At our owne honest mirth; for they that quaffe
To honour others, doe like those that sent
Their gold and plate to strangers to be spent:
We drinke more to the living, then the dead?
Flatt'rers, and fooles doe use it: Let us laugh
At our owne honest mirth; for they that quaffe
32
Their gold and plate to strangers to be spent:
Drink deep; this Cup be pregnant; & the wine
Spirit of wit, to make us all divine,
That big with Sack, and mirth we may retyre
Possessours of more soules, and nobler fire;
And by the influxe of this painted Skie,
And labour'd formes, to higher matters flye;
So, if a Nap shall take us, we shall all,
After full Cups have dreames Poeticall.
Lets
laugh now, and the prest grape drinke,
Spirit of wit, to make us all divine,
That big with Sack, and mirth we may retyre
Possessours of more soules, and nobler fire;
And by the influxe of this painted Skie,
And labour'd formes, to higher matters flye;
So, if a Nap shall take us, we shall all,
After full Cups have dreames Poeticall.
Till the drowsie Day-Starre winke;
And in our merry, mad mirth run
Faster, and further then the Sun;
33
Till that Starre againe doth wake;
So we men below shall move
Equally with the gods above.
To Amoret, of the difference 'twixt him, and other Lovers, and what true Love is.
Marke, when the Evenings cooler wings
Fanne the afflicted ayre, how the faint Sunne,
Leaving undone,
What he begunne,
Those spurious flames suckt up from slime, and earth
To their first, low birth,
Resignes, and brings.
Fanne the afflicted ayre, how the faint Sunne,
Leaving undone,
What he begunne,
Those spurious flames suckt up from slime, and earth
To their first, low birth,
Resignes, and brings.
34
They shoot their tinsill beames, and vanities,
Thredding with those false fires their way;
But as you stay
And see them stray,
You loose the flaming track, and subt'ly they
Languish away,
And cheate your Eyes.
Thredding with those false fires their way;
But as you stay
And see them stray,
You loose the flaming track, and subt'ly they
Languish away,
And cheate your Eyes.
Just so base, Sublunarie Lovers hearts
Fed on loose prophane desires,
May for an Eye,
Or face comply:
But those removed, they will as soone depart,
And shew their Art,
And painted fires.
Fed on loose prophane desires,
May for an Eye,
Or face comply:
But those removed, they will as soone depart,
And shew their Art,
And painted fires.
35
Whil'st I by pow'rfull Love, so much refin'd,
That my absent soule the same is,
Carelesse to misse,
A glaunce, or kisse,
Can with those Elements of lust and sence,
Freely dispence,
And court the mind.
That my absent soule the same is,
Carelesse to misse,
A glaunce, or kisse,
Can with those Elements of lust and sence,
Freely dispence,
And court the mind.
Thus to the North the Loadstones move,
And thus to them th'enamour'd steel aspires:
Thus, Amoret,
I doe affect;
And thus by winged beames, and mutuall fire,
Spirits and Stars conspire,
And this is Love.
And thus to them th'enamour'd steel aspires:
Thus, Amoret,
I doe affect;
And thus by winged beames, and mutuall fire,
Spirits and Stars conspire,
And this is Love.
36
To Amoret WEEPING.
Leave, Amoret, melt not away so fast
Thy Eyes faire treasure, Fortunes wealthiest Cast
Deserves not one such pearle; for these well spent,
Can purchase Starres, and buy a Tenement
For us in Heaven; though here the pious streames
Availe us not; who from that Clue of Sun beams
Could ever steale one thread? or with a kinde
Perswasive Accent charme the wild, lowd winde?
Thy Eyes faire treasure, Fortunes wealthiest Cast
Deserves not one such pearle; for these well spent,
Can purchase Starres, and buy a Tenement
For us in Heaven; though here the pious streames
Availe us not; who from that Clue of Sun beams
Could ever steale one thread? or with a kinde
Perswasive Accent charme the wild, lowd winde?
37
Fate cuts us all in Marble, and the Booke
Forestalls our glasse of minutes; we may looke,
But seldome meet a change; thinke you a teare
Can blot the flinty Volume? shall our feare,
Or griefe adde to their triumphes? and must wee
Give an advantage to adversitie?
Deare, idle Prodigall! is it not just
We beare our Stars? What though I had not dust
Enough to cabinett a worme? nor stand
Enslav'd unto a little durt, or sand?
I boast a better purchase, and can shew
The glories of a soule that's simply true.
Forestalls our glasse of minutes; we may looke,
But seldome meet a change; thinke you a teare
Can blot the flinty Volume? shall our feare,
Or griefe adde to their triumphes? and must wee
Give an advantage to adversitie?
Deare, idle Prodigall! is it not just
We beare our Stars? What though I had not dust
Enough to cabinett a worme? nor stand
Enslav'd unto a little durt, or sand?
I boast a better purchase, and can shew
The glories of a soule that's simply true.
But grant some richer Planet at my birth
Had spyed me out, and measur'd so much earth
Or gold unto my share; I should have been
Slave to these lower Elements, and seen
My high borne soul flagge with their drosse, & lye
A pris'ner to base mud, and Alchymie;
I should perhaps eate Orphans, and sucke up
A dozen distrest widowes in one Cup;
Nay further, I should by that lawfull stealth,
(Damn'd Usurie) undoe the Common-wealth;
Or Patent it in Soape, and Coales, and so
Have the Smiths curse me and my Laundres too;
Geld wine, or his friend Tobacco; and so bring
The incens'd subject Rebell to his King;
And after all (as those first sinners fell)
Sinke lower then my gold; and lye in Hell.
Had spyed me out, and measur'd so much earth
38
Slave to these lower Elements, and seen
My high borne soul flagge with their drosse, & lye
A pris'ner to base mud, and Alchymie;
I should perhaps eate Orphans, and sucke up
A dozen distrest widowes in one Cup;
Nay further, I should by that lawfull stealth,
(Damn'd Usurie) undoe the Common-wealth;
Or Patent it in Soape, and Coales, and so
Have the Smiths curse me and my Laundres too;
Geld wine, or his friend Tobacco; and so bring
The incens'd subject Rebell to his King;
And after all (as those first sinners fell)
Sinke lower then my gold; and lye in Hell.
39
Thanks then for this deliv'rance! blessed pow'rs,
You that dispence mans fortune, and his houres,
How am I to you all engag'd! that thus
By such strange meanes, almost miraculous,
You should preserve me; you have gone the way
To make me rich by taking all away.
For I (had I been rich) as sure as fate,
Would have bin medling with the King, or State,
Or something to undoe me; and 'tis fit
(We know) that who hath wealth, should have no wit.
But above all, thanks to that providence,
That arm'd me with a gallant soule, and sence
'Gainst all misfortunes; that hath breath'd so much
Of Heav'n into me, that I scorne the touch
Of these low things; and can with courage dare
What ever fate, or malice can prepare:
I envy no mans purse, or mines; I know,
That loosing them, I've lost their curses too;
And, Amoret, (although our share in these
Is not contemptible, nor doth much please)
Yet whilst Content, and Love we joyntly vye,
We have a blessing which no gold can buye.
You that dispence mans fortune, and his houres,
How am I to you all engag'd! that thus
By such strange meanes, almost miraculous,
You should preserve me; you have gone the way
To make me rich by taking all away.
For I (had I been rich) as sure as fate,
Would have bin medling with the King, or State,
Or something to undoe me; and 'tis fit
(We know) that who hath wealth, should have no wit.
But above all, thanks to that providence,
That arm'd me with a gallant soule, and sence
'Gainst all misfortunes; that hath breath'd so much
Of Heav'n into me, that I scorne the touch
40
What ever fate, or malice can prepare:
I envy no mans purse, or mines; I know,
That loosing them, I've lost their curses too;
And, Amoret, (although our share in these
Is not contemptible, nor doth much please)
Yet whilst Content, and Love we joyntly vye,
We have a blessing which no gold can buye.
41
UPON THE PRIORIE GROVE, His usuall Retyrement.
Haile sacred shades! coole, leavie House!
Chaste Treasurer of all my vowes,
And wealth! on whose soft bosome layd
My loves faire steps I first betrayd:
Chaste Treasurer of all my vowes,
And wealth! on whose soft bosome layd
My loves faire steps I first betrayd:
Henceforth no melancholy flight,
No sad wing, or hoarse bird of Night,
Disturbe this Aire, no fatall throate
Of Raven, or Owle, awake the Note
Of our laid Eccho no voice dwell
Within these leaves, but Philomel.
The poisonous Ivie here no more
His false twists on the Oke shall score,
Only the Woodbine here may twine,
As th'Embleme of her Love, and mine;
The Amorous Sunne shall here convey
His best beames, in thy shades to play;
The active ayre, the gentlest show'rs,
Shall from his wings raine on thy flowers;
And the Moone from her dewie lockes
Shall decke thee with her brightest drops:
What ever can a fancie move,
Or feed the eye; Be on this Grove;
No sad wing, or hoarse bird of Night,
42
Of Raven, or Owle, awake the Note
Of our laid Eccho no voice dwell
Within these leaves, but Philomel.
The poisonous Ivie here no more
His false twists on the Oke shall score,
Only the Woodbine here may twine,
As th'Embleme of her Love, and mine;
The Amorous Sunne shall here convey
His best beames, in thy shades to play;
The active ayre, the gentlest show'rs,
Shall from his wings raine on thy flowers;
And the Moone from her dewie lockes
Shall decke thee with her brightest drops:
43
Or feed the eye; Be on this Grove;
And when at last the Winds, and Teares
Of Heaven, with the consuming yeares,
Shall these greene curles bring to decay,
And cloathe thee in an aged Gray:
(If ought a Lover can foresee;
Or if we Poets, Prophets be)
From hence transplanted, thou shalt stand
A fresh Grove in th'Elysian Land;
Where (most blest paire!) as here on Earth
Thou first didst eye our growth, and birth;
So there againe, thou 'lt see us move
In our first Innocence, and Love:
And in thy shades, as now, so then,
Wee'le kisse, and smile, and walke agen.
Of Heaven, with the consuming yeares,
Shall these greene curles bring to decay,
And cloathe thee in an aged Gray:
(If ought a Lover can foresee;
Or if we Poets, Prophets be)
From hence transplanted, thou shalt stand
A fresh Grove in th'Elysian Land;
Where (most blest paire!) as here on Earth
Thou first didst eye our growth, and birth;
So there againe, thou 'lt see us move
In our first Innocence, and Love:
44
Wee'le kisse, and smile, and walke agen.
FINIS.
45
IVVENALS TENTH SATYRE TRANSLATED.
Nèc verbum verbo curabit reddere fidus
Interpres------
Interpres------
47
In all the parts of Earth, from farthest West,
And the Atlanticke Isles, unro the East
And famous Ganges; Few there be that know
What's truly good, and what is good in show
Without mistake: For what is't we desire,
Or feare discreetly? to what e're aspire,
So throughly blest; but ever as we speed,
Repentance seales the very Act, and deed.
The easie gods mov'd by no other Fate,
Then our owne pray'rs whole Kingdomes ruinate,
And undoe Families, thus strife, and warre
Are the swords prize, and a litigious barre
The Gownes prime wish; vain confidence to share
In empty honours, and a bloudy care,
To be the first in mischiefe, makes him dye
Fool'd 'twixt ambition, and credulitie;
An oilie tongue with fatall, cunning fence,
And that sad vertue ever, Eloquence,
Are th'others ruine; but the common curse,
And each dayes ill waits on the rich mans purse:
He, whose large acres, and imprison'd gold
So far exceeds his Fathers store of old,
As Brittish Whales the Dolphins doe surpasse.
And the Atlanticke Isles, unro the East
And famous Ganges; Few there be that know
What's truly good, and what is good in show
Without mistake: For what is't we desire,
Or feare discreetly? to what e're aspire,
48
Repentance seales the very Act, and deed.
The easie gods mov'd by no other Fate,
Then our owne pray'rs whole Kingdomes ruinate,
And undoe Families, thus strife, and warre
Are the swords prize, and a litigious barre
The Gownes prime wish; vain confidence to share
In empty honours, and a bloudy care,
To be the first in mischiefe, makes him dye
Fool'd 'twixt ambition, and credulitie;
An oilie tongue with fatall, cunning fence,
And that sad vertue ever, Eloquence,
Are th'others ruine; but the common curse,
And each dayes ill waits on the rich mans purse:
49
So far exceeds his Fathers store of old,
As Brittish Whales the Dolphins doe surpasse.
In sadder times therefore, and when the Lawes
Of Nero's fiat raign'd; an armed band
Ceas'd on Longinus, and the spacious Land
Of wealthy Seneca, besieg'd the gates
Of Lateranus, and his faire estate
Divided as a spoile; In such sad Feasts,
Souldiers (though not invited) are the guests.
Of Nero's fiat raign'd; an armed band
Ceas'd on Longinus, and the spacious Land
Of wealthy Seneca, besieg'd the gates
Of Lateranus, and his faire estate
Divided as a spoile; In such sad Feasts,
Souldiers (though not invited) are the guests.
Though thou small peeces of the blessed Mine
Hast lodg'd about thee; travelling in the shine
Of a pale Moone, if but a Reed doth shake,
Mov'd by the wind, the shadow makes thee quake.
Wealth hath its cares, and want hath this reliefe,
It neither feares the Souldier, nor the Thiefe;
Hast lodg'd about thee; travelling in the shine
Of a pale Moone, if but a Reed doth shake,
Mov'd by the wind, the shadow makes thee quake.
50
It neither feares the Souldier, nor the Thiefe;
Thy first choyce vowes, and to the Gods best knowne,
Are for thy stores encrease, that in all towne
Thy stocke be greatest, but no poyson lyes
I'th' poore mans dish, he tasts of no such spice:
Be that thy care, when with a Kingly gust,
Thou suck'st whole Bowles clad in the guilded dust
Of some rich minerall; whilst the false Wine
Sparkles aloft, and makes the draught Divine.
Are for thy stores encrease, that in all towne
Thy stocke be greatest, but no poyson lyes
I'th' poore mans dish, he tasts of no such spice:
Be that thy care, when with a Kingly gust,
Thou suck'st whole Bowles clad in the guilded dust
Of some rich minerall; whilst the false Wine
Sparkles aloft, and makes the draught Divine.
Blam'st thou the Sages then? because the one
Would still be laughing, when he would be gone
From his owne doore, the other cryed to see
His times addicted to such vanity?
Smiles are an easie purchase, but to weep
Is a hard act, for teares are fetch'd more deep;
Democritus his nimble Lungs would tyre
With constant laughter, and yet keep entire
His stocke of mirth, for ev'ry object was
Addition to his store; though then (Alas!)
Sedans, and Litters, and our Senat Gownes,
With Robes of honour, fasces, and the frownes
Of unbrib'd Tribunes were not seene; but had
He lived to see our Roman Prætor clad
In Ioves owne mantle, seated on his high
Embroyder'd Chariot 'midst the dust and Crie
Of the large Theatre, loaden with a Crowne
Which scarse he could support, for it would downe,
But that his servant props it) and close by
His page a witnes to his vanitie:
To these his Scepter, and his Eagle adde
His Trumpets, Officers, and servants clad
In white, and purple; with the rest that day,
He hir'd to triumph for his bread, and pay;
Had he these studied, sumptuous follies seene,
'Tis thought his wanton, and effusive spleene
Had kill'd the Abderite, though in that age
(When pride & greatnes had not swell'd the stage
So high as ours) his harmles, and just mirth
From ev'ry object had a suddaine birth;
Nor wast alone their avarice, or pride,
Their triumphs, or their cares he did deride;
Their vaine contentions, or ridiculous feares;
But even their very poverty, and teares.
He would at fortunes threats as freely smile
As others mourne; nor was it to beguile
His crafty passions; but this habit he
By nature had, and grave Philosophie.
He knew their idle and superfluous vowes,
And sacrifice, which such wrong zeale bestowes,
Were meere Incendiaries; and that the gods
Not pleas'd therewith, would ever be at ods;
Yet to no other aire, nor better place
Ow'd he his birth, then the cold, homely Thrace;
Which shewes a man may be both wise, & good,
Without the brags of fortune, or his bloud.
Would still be laughing, when he would be gone
From his owne doore, the other cryed to see
His times addicted to such vanity?
51
Is a hard act, for teares are fetch'd more deep;
Democritus his nimble Lungs would tyre
With constant laughter, and yet keep entire
His stocke of mirth, for ev'ry object was
Addition to his store; though then (Alas!)
Sedans, and Litters, and our Senat Gownes,
With Robes of honour, fasces, and the frownes
Of unbrib'd Tribunes were not seene; but had
He lived to see our Roman Prætor clad
In Ioves owne mantle, seated on his high
Embroyder'd Chariot 'midst the dust and Crie
Of the large Theatre, loaden with a Crowne
Which scarse he could support, for it would downe,
52
His page a witnes to his vanitie:
To these his Scepter, and his Eagle adde
His Trumpets, Officers, and servants clad
In white, and purple; with the rest that day,
He hir'd to triumph for his bread, and pay;
Had he these studied, sumptuous follies seene,
'Tis thought his wanton, and effusive spleene
Had kill'd the Abderite, though in that age
(When pride & greatnes had not swell'd the stage
So high as ours) his harmles, and just mirth
From ev'ry object had a suddaine birth;
Nor wast alone their avarice, or pride,
Their triumphs, or their cares he did deride;
53
But even their very poverty, and teares.
He would at fortunes threats as freely smile
As others mourne; nor was it to beguile
His crafty passions; but this habit he
By nature had, and grave Philosophie.
He knew their idle and superfluous vowes,
And sacrifice, which such wrong zeale bestowes,
Were meere Incendiaries; and that the gods
Not pleas'd therewith, would ever be at ods;
Yet to no other aire, nor better place
Ow'd he his birth, then the cold, homely Thrace;
Which shewes a man may be both wise, & good,
Without the brags of fortune, or his bloud.
54
But envy ruines all: What mighty names
Of fortune, spirit, action, bloud, and fame,
Hath this destroy'd? yea, for no other cause
Then being such; their honour, worth, and place,
Was crime enough; their statues, arms & crowns;
Their ornaments of Triumph, Chariots, Gowns,
And what the Herauld with a learned care,
Had long preserv'd, this madnes will not spare.
Of fortune, spirit, action, bloud, and fame,
Hath this destroy'd? yea, for no other cause
Then being such; their honour, worth, and place,
Was crime enough; their statues, arms & crowns;
Their ornaments of Triumph, Chariots, Gowns,
And what the Herauld with a learned care,
Had long preserv'd, this madnes will not spare.
So once Sejanus Statue Rome allow'd
Her Demi-god, and ev'ry Roman bow'd
To pay his safeties vowes; but when that face
Had lost Tyberius once, it's former grace
Was soone eclips'd; no diff'rence made (Alas!)
Betwixt his Statue then, and common Brasse;
They melt alike, and in the Workmans hand
For equall, servile use, like others stand.
Her Demi-god, and ev'ry Roman bow'd
To pay his safeties vowes; but when that face
Had lost Tyberius once, it's former grace
Was soone eclips'd; no diff'rence made (Alas!)
Betwixt his Statue then, and common Brasse;
55
For equall, servile use, like others stand.
Goe now fetch home fresh Bayes, and pay new vowes
To thy dumbe Capitoll gods! thy life, thy house,
And state are now secur'd; Sejanus lyes
I'th' Lictors hands; ye gods! what hearts, & eyes
Can one dayes fortune change? the solemne crye
Of all the world is, Let Sejanus dye:
They never lov'd the man they sweare, they know
Nothing of all the matter; when, or how,
By what accuser, for what cause, or why,
By whose command, or sentence he must dye.
But what needs this? the least pretence will hit,
When Princes feare, or hate a Favourite.
A large Epistle stuff'd with idle feare,
Vaine dreames, and jealousies, directed here
From Caprea does it; And thus ever dye
Subjects, when once they grow prodigious high.
To thy dumbe Capitoll gods! thy life, thy house,
And state are now secur'd; Sejanus lyes
I'th' Lictors hands; ye gods! what hearts, & eyes
Can one dayes fortune change? the solemne crye
Of all the world is, Let Sejanus dye:
They never lov'd the man they sweare, they know
Nothing of all the matter; when, or how,
By what accuser, for what cause, or why,
By whose command, or sentence he must dye.
But what needs this? the least pretence will hit,
When Princes feare, or hate a Favourite.
56
Vaine dreames, and jealousies, directed here
From Caprea does it; And thus ever dye
Subjects, when once they grow prodigious high.
'Tis well, I seeke no more; but tell me how
This tooke his friends? no private murmurs now?
No teares? no solemne mourner seene? must all
His Glory perish in one funerall?
O still true Romans! State-wit bids them praise
The Moone by night; but court the warmer rayes
O'th' Sun by day; they follow fortune still,
And hate, or love discreetly, as their will
And the time leades them; This tumultuous fate
Puts all their painted favours out of date:
This tooke his friends? no private murmurs now?
No teares? no solemne mourner seene? must all
His Glory perish in one funerall?
O still true Romans! State-wit bids them praise
The Moone by night; but court the warmer rayes
O'th' Sun by day; they follow fortune still,
And hate, or love discreetly, as their will
And the time leades them; This tumultuous fate
Puts all their painted favours out of date:
57
And yet this people that now spurne, & tread
This mighty Favourites once honour'd head,
Had but the Tuscaine goddesse, or his Stars
Destin'd him for an Empire or had wars,
Treason, or policie, or some higher pow'r
Opprest secure Tyberius; that same houre
That he receiv'd the sad Gemonian doome,
Had crown'd him Emp'ror of the world & Rome.
This mighty Favourites once honour'd head,
Had but the Tuscaine goddesse, or his Stars
Destin'd him for an Empire or had wars,
Treason, or policie, or some higher pow'r
Opprest secure Tyberius; that same houre
That he receiv'd the sad Gemonian doome,
Had crown'd him Emp'ror of the world & Rome.
But Rome is now growne wise, & since that she
Her Suffrages, and ancient Libertie,
Lost in a Monarchs name; she takes no care
For Favourite, or Prince; nor will she share
Their fickle glories, though in Cato's dayes
She rul'd whole States, & Armies with her voice,
Of all the honours now within her walls,
She only doats on Playes, and Festivalls:
Nor is it strange; for when these Meteors fall,
They draw an ample ruine with them; All
Share in the storm; each beame sets with the Sun,
And equall hazard friends, and flatt'rers run.
This makes, that circled with distractive feare
The livelesse, pale Sejanus limbes they teare,
And least the action might a witnesse need,
They bring their servants to confirme the deed,
Nor is it done for any other end,
Then to avoid the title of his friend.
So fals ambitious man, and such are still
All floating States built on the peoples will:
Her Suffrages, and ancient Libertie,
Lost in a Monarchs name; she takes no care
For Favourite, or Prince; nor will she share
Their fickle glories, though in Cato's dayes
She rul'd whole States, & Armies with her voice,
58
She only doats on Playes, and Festivalls:
Nor is it strange; for when these Meteors fall,
They draw an ample ruine with them; All
Share in the storm; each beame sets with the Sun,
And equall hazard friends, and flatt'rers run.
This makes, that circled with distractive feare
The livelesse, pale Sejanus limbes they teare,
And least the action might a witnesse need,
They bring their servants to confirme the deed,
Nor is it done for any other end,
Then to avoid the title of his friend.
So fals ambitious man, and such are still
All floating States built on the peoples will:
59
Hearken all you! whom this bewitching lust
Of an houres glory, and a little dust
Swels to such deare repentance! you that can
Measure whole kingdoms with a thought or span
Would you be as Sejanus? would you have
So you might sway as he did, such a grave?
Would you be rich as he? command, dispose,
All Acts, and Offices? All friends, and foes?
Be Generalls of Armies, and Colleague
Unto an Emperour? breake, or make a league?
No doubt you would; for both the good, and bad,
An eqnall itch of honour ever had:
But O what State can be so great, or good,
As to be bought with so much shame, and bloud!
Alas! Sejanus will too late confesse
'Twas only pride, and greatnes made him lesse:
For he that moveth with the lofty wind
Of Fortune, and ambition, unconfin'd
In act, or thought; doth but increase his height,
That he may loose it with more force, & weight;
Scorning a base, low ruine, as if he
Would of misfortune, make a Prodigie.
Of an houres glory, and a little dust
Swels to such deare repentance! you that can
Measure whole kingdoms with a thought or span
Would you be as Sejanus? would you have
So you might sway as he did, such a grave?
Would you be rich as he? command, dispose,
All Acts, and Offices? All friends, and foes?
Be Generalls of Armies, and Colleague
Unto an Emperour? breake, or make a league?
No doubt you would; for both the good, and bad,
An eqnall itch of honour ever had:
But O what State can be so great, or good,
As to be bought with so much shame, and bloud!
60
'Twas only pride, and greatnes made him lesse:
For he that moveth with the lofty wind
Of Fortune, and ambition, unconfin'd
In act, or thought; doth but increase his height,
That he may loose it with more force, & weight;
Scorning a base, low ruine, as if he
Would of misfortune, make a Prodigie.
Tell mighty Pompey, Crassus, and O thou
That mad'st Rome kneele to thy victorious brow,
What but the weight of honours, and large fame
After your worthy Acts, and height of name,
Destroy'd you in the end? the envious Fates
Easie to further your aspiring States,
Us'd them to quell you too; pride, and excesse
In ev'ry Act did make you thrive the lesse:
Few Kings are guiltie of gray haires, or dye
Without a stab, a draught, or trecherie:
And yet to see him, that but yesterday
Saw letters first, how he will scrape, and pray;
And all her Feast-time tyre Minervaes eares
For Fame, for Eloquence, and store of yeares
To thrive and live in; and then lest he doates,
His boy assists him with his boxe, and notes;
Foole that thou art! not to discerne the ill
These vows include: what, did Rom's Consull kill
Her Cicero? what, him whose very dust
Greece celebrates as yet; whose cause though just,
Scarse banishment could end; nor poyson saye
His free borne person from a forraigne grave:
All this from Eloquence! both head, and hand,
The tongue doth forfeit; pettie wits may stand
Secure from danger, but the nobler veine,
With losse of bloud the barre doth often staine.
That mad'st Rome kneele to thy victorious brow,
What but the weight of honours, and large fame
After your worthy Acts, and height of name,
Destroy'd you in the end? the envious Fates
Easie to further your aspiring States,
61
In ev'ry Act did make you thrive the lesse:
Few Kings are guiltie of gray haires, or dye
Without a stab, a draught, or trecherie:
And yet to see him, that but yesterday
Saw letters first, how he will scrape, and pray;
And all her Feast-time tyre Minervaes eares
For Fame, for Eloquence, and store of yeares
To thrive and live in; and then lest he doates,
His boy assists him with his boxe, and notes;
Foole that thou art! not to discerne the ill
These vows include: what, did Rom's Consull kill
Her Cicero? what, him whose very dust
Greece celebrates as yet; whose cause though just,
62
His free borne person from a forraigne grave:
All this from Eloquence! both head, and hand,
The tongue doth forfeit; pettie wits may stand
Secure from danger, but the nobler veine,
With losse of bloud the barre doth often staine.
Had all been thus, thou might'st have scorn'd the sword
Of fierce Antonius, here is not one word
Doth pinch, I like such stuffe; 'tis safer far
Then thy Philippicks, or Pharsalia's war:
What sadder end then his, whom Athens saw
At once her Patriot, Oracle, and Law?
Unhappy then is he, and curs'd in Stars,
Whom his poore Father, blind with soot, & scars
Sends from the Anviles harmles chine, to weare
The factious gowne, and tyre his Clients eare,
And purse with endles noise; Trophies of war
Old rusty armour, with an honour'd scar;
And wheeles of captiv'd Chariots, with a peece
Of some torne Brittish Galley, and to these
The Ensigne too, and last of all the traine
The pensive pris'ner loaden with his Chaine,
Are thought true Roman honors; these the Greek
And rude Barbarians equally doe seeke
Thus aire, and empty fame, are held a prize
Beyond faire vertue; for all vertue dyes
Without reward; And yet by this fierce lust
Of Fame, and titles to ovtlive our dust,
And Monuments; (though all these things must dye
And perish like our selves) whole Kingdomes lye
Ruin'd, and spoil'd: Put Hannibal i'th' scale,
What weight affords the mighty Generall?
This is the man, whom Africks spacious Land
Bounded by th'Indian Sea, and Niles hot sand,
Could not containe; (Ye gods! that give to men
Such boundles appetites, why state you them
So short a time? either the one deny,
Or give their acts, and them Eternitie)
All Æthiopia, to the utmost bound
Of Titans course, (then which no Land is found
Lesse distant from the Sun) with him that ploughs
That fertile soile where fram'd Iberus flowes,
Are not enough to conquer; past now o're
The Pyrene hills, The Alps with all its store
Of Ice, and Rocks clad in eternall snow
(As if that Nature meant to give the blow)
Denyes him passage; straight on ev'ry side
He wounds the Hill, and by strong hand divides
The monstrous pile, nought can ambition stay
The world, and nature yeeld to give him way:
And now past o're the Alps, that mighty bar
'Twixt France, and Rome, feare of the future war
Strikes Italy; successe, and hope doth fire
His lofty spirits with a fresh desire.
All is undone as yet (saith he) unlesse
Our Pænish forces we advance, and presse
Upon Rome's selfe; break downe her gates, & wall,
And plant our Colours in Suburra's Vale.
O the rare slight! if this great souldier wee
Arm'd on his Getick Elephant might see!
But what's the event? O glory! how the itch
Of thy short wonders doth mankinde bewitch!
He that but now all Italy, and Spaine,
Had conquer'd o're, is beaten out againe;
And in the heart of Africk, and the sight
Of his owne Carthage, forc'd to open flight.
Banish'd from thence, a fugitive he posts
To Syria first, then to Bythinia's Coasts;
Both places by his sword secur'd; though he
In this distresse must not acknowledg'd be;
Where once a Generall he triumphed, now
To shew what Fortune can, he begs as low.
Of fierce Antonius, here is not one word
Doth pinch, I like such stuffe; 'tis safer far
Then thy Philippicks, or Pharsalia's war:
What sadder end then his, whom Athens saw
At once her Patriot, Oracle, and Law?
63
Whom his poore Father, blind with soot, & scars
Sends from the Anviles harmles chine, to weare
The factious gowne, and tyre his Clients eare,
And purse with endles noise; Trophies of war
Old rusty armour, with an honour'd scar;
And wheeles of captiv'd Chariots, with a peece
Of some torne Brittish Galley, and to these
The Ensigne too, and last of all the traine
The pensive pris'ner loaden with his Chaine,
Are thought true Roman honors; these the Greek
And rude Barbarians equally doe seeke
Thus aire, and empty fame, are held a prize
Beyond faire vertue; for all vertue dyes
64
Of Fame, and titles to ovtlive our dust,
And Monuments; (though all these things must dye
And perish like our selves) whole Kingdomes lye
Ruin'd, and spoil'd: Put Hannibal i'th' scale,
What weight affords the mighty Generall?
This is the man, whom Africks spacious Land
Bounded by th'Indian Sea, and Niles hot sand,
Could not containe; (Ye gods! that give to men
Such boundles appetites, why state you them
So short a time? either the one deny,
Or give their acts, and them Eternitie)
All Æthiopia, to the utmost bound
Of Titans course, (then which no Land is found
65
That fertile soile where fram'd Iberus flowes,
Are not enough to conquer; past now o're
The Pyrene hills, The Alps with all its store
Of Ice, and Rocks clad in eternall snow
(As if that Nature meant to give the blow)
Denyes him passage; straight on ev'ry side
He wounds the Hill, and by strong hand divides
The monstrous pile, nought can ambition stay
The world, and nature yeeld to give him way:
And now past o're the Alps, that mighty bar
'Twixt France, and Rome, feare of the future war
Strikes Italy; successe, and hope doth fire
His lofty spirits with a fresh desire.
66
Our Pænish forces we advance, and presse
Upon Rome's selfe; break downe her gates, & wall,
And plant our Colours in Suburra's Vale.
O the rare slight! if this great souldier wee
Arm'd on his Getick Elephant might see!
But what's the event? O glory! how the itch
Of thy short wonders doth mankinde bewitch!
He that but now all Italy, and Spaine,
Had conquer'd o're, is beaten out againe;
And in the heart of Africk, and the sight
Of his owne Carthage, forc'd to open flight.
Banish'd from thence, a fugitive he posts
To Syria first, then to Bythinia's Coasts;
67
In this distresse must not acknowledg'd be;
Where once a Generall he triumphed, now
To shew what Fortune can, he begs as low.
And thus that soule, which through all nations hurl'd
Conquest, and warre, and did amaze the world;
Of all those glories rob'd at his last breath,
Fortune would not vouchsafe a souldiers death,
For all that bloud the field of Cannæ boasts,
And sad Apulia fill'd with Roman ghoasts:
No other end (freed from the pile, and sword)
Then a poore Ring would Fortune him afford.
Conquest, and warre, and did amaze the world;
Of all those glories rob'd at his last breath,
Fortune would not vouchsafe a souldiers death,
For all that bloud the field of Cannæ boasts,
And sad Apulia fill'd with Roman ghoasts:
No other end (freed from the pile, and sword)
Then a poore Ring would Fortune him afford.
Goe now ambitious man! new plots designe,
March o're the snowie Alps, and Apennine;
That after all, at best thou mayst but be
A pleasing story to posteritie!
March o're the snowie Alps, and Apennine;
68
A pleasing story to posteritie!
The Macedon one world could not containe,
We heare him of the narrow Earth complaine,
And sweat for roome, as if Seryphus Ile,
Or Gyara had held him in Exile:
But Babylon this madnes can allay,
And give the great man but his length of clay;
The highest thoughts, and actions under Heaven,
Death only with the lowest dust layes even.
It is believed (if what Greece writes be true)
That Xerxes with his Persian Fleet did hewe
Their waies throgh mountains, that their sails full blowne,
Like clouds hung over Athos, and did drowne
The spacious Continent, and by plaine force
Betwixt the Mount, and it made a divorce;
That Seas exhausted were, and made firme land,
And Sestos joyned unto Abidos Strand;
That on their march, his Meades but passing by,
Dranke thee Scamander, and Melenus dry;
With what soe're incredible designe
Sostratus sings inspired with pregnant Wine:
But what's the end? He that the other day
Divided Hellespont, and forc'd his way
Through all her angry billowes; that assigned
New punishments unto the waves, and wind:
No sooner saw the Salaminian Seas,
But he was driven out by Themistocles,
And of that Fleet (suppos'd to be so great,
That all mankinde shar'd in the sad defeate)
Not one Sayle sav'd in a poore Fishers boat,
Chas'd o're the working surge, was glad to float,
Cutting his desp'rate course through the tyr'd floud,
And fought againe with Carkasses, and bloud.
O foolish mad ambition! these are still
The famous dangers that attend thy will.
We heare him of the narrow Earth complaine,
And sweat for roome, as if Seryphus Ile,
Or Gyara had held him in Exile:
But Babylon this madnes can allay,
And give the great man but his length of clay;
The highest thoughts, and actions under Heaven,
Death only with the lowest dust layes even.
It is believed (if what Greece writes be true)
That Xerxes with his Persian Fleet did hewe
Their waies throgh mountains, that their sails full blowne,
Like clouds hung over Athos, and did drowne
69
Betwixt the Mount, and it made a divorce;
That Seas exhausted were, and made firme land,
And Sestos joyned unto Abidos Strand;
That on their march, his Meades but passing by,
Dranke thee Scamander, and Melenus dry;
With what soe're incredible designe
Sostratus sings inspired with pregnant Wine:
But what's the end? He that the other day
Divided Hellespont, and forc'd his way
Through all her angry billowes; that assigned
New punishments unto the waves, and wind:
No sooner saw the Salaminian Seas,
But he was driven out by Themistocles,
70
That all mankinde shar'd in the sad defeate)
Not one Sayle sav'd in a poore Fishers boat,
Chas'd o're the working surge, was glad to float,
Cutting his desp'rate course through the tyr'd floud,
And fought againe with Carkasses, and bloud.
O foolish mad ambition! these are still
The famous dangers that attend thy will.
Give store of dayes, good Iove, give length of yeares,
Are the next vowes; these with religious feares,
And Constancie we pay; but what's so bad,
As a long, sinfull age? what crosse more sad
Then misery of yeares? how great an Ill
Is that, which doth but nurse more sorrow still?
It blacks the face, corrupts, and duls the bloud,
Benights the quickest eye, distasts the food,
And such deep furrowes cuts i'th' Checker'd skin
As in th'old Okes of Tabraca are seene.
Are the next vowes; these with religious feares,
And Constancie we pay; but what's so bad,
As a long, sinfull age? what crosse more sad
Then misery of yeares? how great an Ill
Is that, which doth but nurse more sorrow still?
71
Benights the quickest eye, distasts the food,
And such deep furrowes cuts i'th' Checker'd skin
As in th'old Okes of Tabraca are seene.
Youth varies in most things; strength, beauty, wit,
Are severall graces; but where age doth hit,
It makes no diff'rence; the same weake voice,
And trembling ague in each member lyes:
A generall, batefull baldnes, with a curst
Perpetuall pettishnes; and which is worst,
A foule, strong fluxe of humors, and more paine
To feed, then if he were to nurse again.
So tedious to himselfe, his wife, and friends,
That his owne sonnes, and servants, wish his end,
His tast, and feeling dyes; and of that fire
The am'rous Lover burnes in, no desire:
Or if there were, what pleasure could it be,
Where lust doth raigne without abilitie?
Nor is this all, what matters it, where he
Sits in the spacious Stage? who can nor see,
Nor heare what's acted, whom the stiller voice
Of spirited, wanton ayres, or the loud noise
Of Trumpets cannot pierce; whom thunder can
But scarce informe who enters, or what man
He personates, what 'tis they act, or say?
How many Scænes are done? what time of day?
Besides that little bloud, his carkasse holds,
Hath low its native warmth, & fraught wth colds,
Catarrhs, and rheumes, to thick, black jelly turns,
And never but in fits, and feavers burnes;
Such vast infirmities, so huge a stock
Of sicknes, and diseases to him flock,
That Hyppia ne're so many Lovers knew,
Nor wanton Maura; Phisick never slew
So many Patients, nor rich Lawyers spoile
More Wards, and Widowes; it were lesser toile
To number out what Mannors, and Demaines,
Licinius razer purchas'd: One complaines
Of weaknes in the back, another pants
For lack of breath, the third his eyesight wants;
Nay some so feeble are, and full of paine,
That Infant like they must be fed againe.
These faint too at their meales; their wine they spill,
And like young birds, that wait the Mothers Bill
They gape for meat; but sadder far then this
Their senslesse ignorance, and dotage is;
For neither they, their friends, nor servants know,
Nay those themselves begot, and bred up too
No longer now they'le owne; for madly they
Proscribe them all, and what on the last day,
The Misers cannot carry to the Grave
For their past sinnes, their prostitutes must have.
Are severall graces; but where age doth hit,
It makes no diff'rence; the same weake voice,
And trembling ague in each member lyes:
A generall, batefull baldnes, with a curst
Perpetuall pettishnes; and which is worst,
A foule, strong fluxe of humors, and more paine
To feed, then if he were to nurse again.
So tedious to himselfe, his wife, and friends,
That his owne sonnes, and servants, wish his end,
72
The am'rous Lover burnes in, no desire:
Or if there were, what pleasure could it be,
Where lust doth raigne without abilitie?
Nor is this all, what matters it, where he
Sits in the spacious Stage? who can nor see,
Nor heare what's acted, whom the stiller voice
Of spirited, wanton ayres, or the loud noise
Of Trumpets cannot pierce; whom thunder can
But scarce informe who enters, or what man
He personates, what 'tis they act, or say?
How many Scænes are done? what time of day?
Besides that little bloud, his carkasse holds,
Hath low its native warmth, & fraught wth colds,
73
And never but in fits, and feavers burnes;
Such vast infirmities, so huge a stock
Of sicknes, and diseases to him flock,
That Hyppia ne're so many Lovers knew,
Nor wanton Maura; Phisick never slew
So many Patients, nor rich Lawyers spoile
More Wards, and Widowes; it were lesser toile
To number out what Mannors, and Demaines,
Licinius razer purchas'd: One complaines
Of weaknes in the back, another pants
For lack of breath, the third his eyesight wants;
Nay some so feeble are, and full of paine,
That Infant like they must be fed againe.
74
And like young birds, that wait the Mothers Bill
They gape for meat; but sadder far then this
Their senslesse ignorance, and dotage is;
For neither they, their friends, nor servants know,
Nay those themselves begot, and bred up too
No longer now they'le owne; for madly they
Proscribe them all, and what on the last day,
The Misers cannot carry to the Grave
For their past sinnes, their prostitutes must have.
But grant age lack'd these plagues; yet must they see
As great, as many: Fraile Mortalitie
In such a length of yeares, hath many falls,
And deads a life with frequent funerals.
The nimblest houre in all the span, can steale
A friend, or brother from's; there's no Repeale
In death, or time; this day a wife we mourne,
To morrowes teares a sonne, and the next Urne
A Sister fills; Long-livers have assign'd
These curses still: That with a restles mind,
An age of fresh renewing cares they buye,
And in a tide of teares grow old and dye.
As great, as many: Fraile Mortalitie
In such a length of yeares, hath many falls,
And deads a life with frequent funerals.
75
A friend, or brother from's; there's no Repeale
In death, or time; this day a wife we mourne,
To morrowes teares a sonne, and the next Urne
A Sister fills; Long-livers have assign'd
These curses still: That with a restles mind,
An age of fresh renewing cares they buye,
And in a tide of teares grow old and dye.
Nestor, (if we great Homer may believe)
In his full strength three hundred yeares did live:
Happy (thou'lt say) that for so long a time
Enjoy'd free nature with the grape, and Wine
Of many Autumnes; but I prethee, heare
What Nestor sayes himselfe, when he his deare
Antilochus had lost, how he complaines
Of life's too large Extent, and copious paines?
Of all he meets, he askes what is the cause
He lived thus long; for what breach of their Laws
The gods thus punish'd him? what sinne had he
Done worthy of a long lifes miserie?
Thus Peleus his Achilles mourned, and he
Thus wept that his Vlysses lost at Sea.
Had Priam dyed, before Phereclus Fleet
Was built, or Paris stole the fatall Greeke,
Troy had yet stood, and he perhaps had gone
In peace unto the lower shades; His sonne
Saved with his plenteous offspring, and the rest
In solemne pompe bearing his fun'rall Chest;
But long life hinder'd this: Unhappy he,
Kept for a publick ruine; lived to see
All Asia lost, and e're he could expire,
In his owne house saw both the sword, and fire;
All white with age, and cares, his feeble arme
Had now forgot the warre; but this Allarme
Gathers his dying spirits; and as wee
An aged Oxe worne out with labour, see,
By his ungratefull Master, after all
His yeares of toyle, a thankles victime fall:
So he by Ioves owne Altar; which shewes, wee
Are no where safe from Heaven, and destinie:
Yet dyed a man; but his surviving Queene,
Freed from the Greekish sword was barking seen.
In his full strength three hundred yeares did live:
Happy (thou'lt say) that for so long a time
Enjoy'd free nature with the grape, and Wine
Of many Autumnes; but I prethee, heare
What Nestor sayes himselfe, when he his deare
76
Of life's too large Extent, and copious paines?
Of all he meets, he askes what is the cause
He lived thus long; for what breach of their Laws
The gods thus punish'd him? what sinne had he
Done worthy of a long lifes miserie?
Thus Peleus his Achilles mourned, and he
Thus wept that his Vlysses lost at Sea.
Had Priam dyed, before Phereclus Fleet
Was built, or Paris stole the fatall Greeke,
Troy had yet stood, and he perhaps had gone
In peace unto the lower shades; His sonne
Saved with his plenteous offspring, and the rest
In solemne pompe bearing his fun'rall Chest;
77
Kept for a publick ruine; lived to see
All Asia lost, and e're he could expire,
In his owne house saw both the sword, and fire;
All white with age, and cares, his feeble arme
Had now forgot the warre; but this Allarme
Gathers his dying spirits; and as wee
An aged Oxe worne out with labour, see,
By his ungratefull Master, after all
His yeares of toyle, a thankles victime fall:
So he by Ioves owne Altar; which shewes, wee
Are no where safe from Heaven, and destinie:
Yet dyed a man; but his surviving Queene,
Freed from the Greekish sword was barking seen.
78
I haste to Rome, and Pontus King let passe,
With Lydian Cræsus, whom in vaine (Alas!)
Just Solons grave advice bad to attend,
That happines came not before the end.
With Lydian Cræsus, whom in vaine (Alas!)
Just Solons grave advice bad to attend,
That happines came not before the end.
What man more blest in any age to come
Or past, could Nature shew the world, or Rome,
Then Marius was? if 'midst the pompe of war,
And triumphs fetch'd with Roman bloud from far
His soule had fled; Exile, and fetters then,
He ne're had seen, nor known Mynturna's fenne;
Nor had it, after Carthage got, been sed,
A Roman Generall had beg'd his bread.
Or past, could Nature shew the world, or Rome,
Then Marius was? if 'midst the pompe of war,
And triumphs fetch'd with Roman bloud from far
His soule had fled; Exile, and fetters then,
He ne're had seen, nor known Mynturna's fenne;
Nor had it, after Carthage got, been sed,
A Roman Generall had beg'd his bread.
Thus Pompey th'envious gods, & Romes ill stars
(Freed from Campania's feavers, and the Wars)
Doom'd to Achilles sword: Our publick vowes
Made Cæsar guiltles; but sent him to loose
His head at Nile; This curse Cethegus mist;
This Lentulus, and this made him resist
That mangled by no Lictors axe, fell dead
Entirely Catiline, and saved his head.
(Freed from Campania's feavers, and the Wars)
79
Made Cæsar guiltles; but sent him to loose
His head at Nile; This curse Cethegus mist;
This Lentulus, and this made him resist
That mangled by no Lictors axe, fell dead
Entirely Catiline, and saved his head.
The anxious Matrons, with their foolish zeale,
Are the last Votaries, and their Appeale
Is all for beauty; with soft speech, and slow,
They pray for sons, but with a louder vow
Commend a female feature: All that can
Make woman pleasing now they shift, and scan:
And why reprov'd they say, Latona's paire
The Mother never thinks can be too faire.
Are the last Votaries, and their Appeale
Is all for beauty; with soft speech, and slow,
They pray for sons, but with a louder vow
Commend a female feature: All that can
Make woman pleasing now they shift, and scan:
And why reprov'd they say, Latona's paire
The Mother never thinks can be too faire.
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But sad Lucretia warnes to wish no face
Like hers; Virginia would bequeath her grace
To Crooke-backe Rutila in exchange; for still
The fairest children do their Parents fill
With greatest cares; so seldome Chastitie
Is found with beauty; though some few there be
That with a strict, religious care contend
Th'old, modest, Sabine Customes to defend:
Besides, wise nature to some faces grants
An easie blush, and where shee freely plants,
A lesse Instruction serves; but both these joyn'd,
At Rome would both be forc'd or else purloyn'd.
Like hers; Virginia would bequeath her grace
To Crooke-backe Rutila in exchange; for still
The fairest children do their Parents fill
With greatest cares; so seldome Chastitie
Is found with beauty; though some few there be
That with a strict, religious care contend
Th'old, modest, Sabine Customes to defend:
Besides, wise nature to some faces grants
An easie blush, and where shee freely plants,
A lesse Instruction serves; but both these joyn'd,
At Rome would both be forc'd or else purloyn'd.
So steel'd a forehead vice hath, that dares win,
And bribe the Father to the Childrens sin;
But whom have gifts defiled not? what good face
Did ever want these tempters? pleasing grace
Betraies it selfe; what time did Nero mind
A course, maim'd shape? what blemish'd youth confin'd
His goatish Pathick? whence then slow these joies
Of a faire issue? whom these sad annoies
Waite, and grow up with; whom perhaps thou'lt see
Publick Adulterers, and must be
Subject to all the Curses, Plagues, and awe
Of jealous mad men, and the Iulian Law;
Nor canst thou hope they'le find a milder Starre,
Or more escapes then did the God of Warre;
But worse then all, a jealous braine confines:
His furie to no Law; what rage assignes;
Is present justice: Thus the rash Sword spils
This Lechers bloud, the scourge another kils.
But thy spruce boy must touch no other face
Then a Patrician? Is of any race
So they be rich; Servilia is as good
With wealth, as shee that boasts Iulus blood:
To please a servant all is cheape; what thing
In all their stocke to the last suite, and King
But lust exacts? the poorest whore in this,
As generous as the Patrician is.
And bribe the Father to the Childrens sin;
81
Did ever want these tempters? pleasing grace
Betraies it selfe; what time did Nero mind
A course, maim'd shape? what blemish'd youth confin'd
His goatish Pathick? whence then slow these joies
Of a faire issue? whom these sad annoies
Waite, and grow up with; whom perhaps thou'lt see
Publick Adulterers, and must be
Subject to all the Curses, Plagues, and awe
Of jealous mad men, and the Iulian Law;
Nor canst thou hope they'le find a milder Starre,
Or more escapes then did the God of Warre;
But worse then all, a jealous braine confines:
His furie to no Law; what rage assignes;
82
This Lechers bloud, the scourge another kils.
But thy spruce boy must touch no other face
Then a Patrician? Is of any race
So they be rich; Servilia is as good
With wealth, as shee that boasts Iulus blood:
To please a servant all is cheape; what thing
In all their stocke to the last suite, and King
But lust exacts? the poorest whore in this,
As generous as the Patrician is.
But thou wilt say what hurt's a beauteous skin
With a chaste soule? aske Theseus sonne, and him
That Stenobæa murther'd; for both these
Can tell how fatall 'twas in them to please;
A womans spleene then carries most of fate,
When shame and sorrow aggravate her hate:
Resolve me now, had Silius been thy sonne,
In such a hazzard what should he have done?
Of all Romes youth, this was the only best,
In whom alone beauty, and worth did rest:
This Messalina saw, and needs he must
Be ruin'd by the Emp'rour, or her lust,
All in the face of Rome, and the worlds eye,
Though Cesars wife, a publicke Bigamie
Shee dares attempt; and that the act might beare
More prodigie, the notaries appeare,
And Augures to't; and to compleat the sin
In solemne forme, a dowrie is brought in;
All this (thou'lt say) in private might have past,
But shee'le not have it so; what course at last?
What should he doe? If Messaline be crost
Without redresse thy Silius will be lost;
If not, some two daies length is all he can
Keep from the grave; just so much as will span
This newes to Hostia, to whose fate he owes
That Claudius last his owne dishonour knowes.
With a chaste soule? aske Theseus sonne, and him
That Stenobæa murther'd; for both these
Can tell how fatall 'twas in them to please;
83
When shame and sorrow aggravate her hate:
Resolve me now, had Silius been thy sonne,
In such a hazzard what should he have done?
Of all Romes youth, this was the only best,
In whom alone beauty, and worth did rest:
This Messalina saw, and needs he must
Be ruin'd by the Emp'rour, or her lust,
All in the face of Rome, and the worlds eye,
Though Cesars wife, a publicke Bigamie
Shee dares attempt; and that the act might beare
More prodigie, the notaries appeare,
And Augures to't; and to compleat the sin
In solemne forme, a dowrie is brought in;
84
But shee'le not have it so; what course at last?
What should he doe? If Messaline be crost
Without redresse thy Silius will be lost;
If not, some two daies length is all he can
Keep from the grave; just so much as will span
This newes to Hostia, to whose fate he owes
That Claudius last his owne dishonour knowes.
But he obeyes, and for a few houres lust,
Forfeits that glory should outlive his dust,
Nor was it much a fault; for, whether he
Obey'd, or not; 'twas equall destinie:
So fatall beauty is, and full of wast,
That neither wanton can be safe, nor chast.
Forfeits that glory should outlive his dust,
Nor was it much a fault; for, whether he
Obey'd, or not; 'twas equall destinie:
So fatall beauty is, and full of wast,
That neither wanton can be safe, nor chast.
85
What then should man pray for? what is't that he
Can beg of Heaven, without Impiety?
Take my advice: first to the Gods commit
All cares; for they things competent, and fit
For us foresee; besides man is more deare
To them, then to himselfe: we blindly here
Led by the world, and lust, in vaine assay
To get us portions, wives, and sonnes; but they
Already know all that we can intend,
And of our Childrens Children see the end.
Can beg of Heaven, without Impiety?
Take my advice: first to the Gods commit
All cares; for they things competent, and fit
For us foresee; besides man is more deare
To them, then to himselfe: we blindly here
Led by the world, and lust, in vaine assay
To get us portions, wives, and sonnes; but they
Already know all that we can intend,
And of our Childrens Children see the end.
Yet that thou may'st have something to commend
With thankes unto the Gods for what they send;
Pray for a wise, and knowing soule; a sad
Discreet, true valour, that will scorne to adde
A needlesse horrour to thy death; that knowes
'Tis but a debt which man to nature owes;
That starts not at misfortunes, that can sway,
And keep all passions under locke and key;
That couets nothing, wrongs none, and preferres
An honest want before rich injurers;
All this thou hast within thy selfe, and may
Be made thy owne, if thou wilt take the way;
What boots the worlds wild, loose applause? what
Fraile, perillous honours adde unto a man?
What length of years, wealth, or a rich faire wife?
Vertue alone can make a happy life.
To a wise man nought comes amisse: but we
Fortune adore, and make our Deity.
With thankes unto the Gods for what they send;
Pray for a wise, and knowing soule; a sad
Discreet, true valour, that will scorne to adde
86
'Tis but a debt which man to nature owes;
That starts not at misfortunes, that can sway,
And keep all passions under locke and key;
That couets nothing, wrongs none, and preferres
An honest want before rich injurers;
All this thou hast within thy selfe, and may
Be made thy owne, if thou wilt take the way;
What boots the worlds wild, loose applause? what
Fraile, perillous honours adde unto a man?
What length of years, wealth, or a rich faire wife?
Vertue alone can make a happy life.
87
Fortune adore, and make our Deity.
FINIS.
| Poems, with The tenth Satyre of Iuvenal Englished | |