Thalia Rediviva The Pass-times and Diversions of a Countrey-muse, In Choice Poems on several Occasions. With Some Learned Remains of the Eminent Eugenius Philalethes. Never made Publick till now [by Henry Vaughan] |
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To the ingenious Author of Thalia Rediviva.
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| II. |
| III. |
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 | Thalia Rediviva |  |
To the ingenious Author of Thalia Rediviva.
Ode I.
[Where Reverend Bards of old have sate]
Where Reverend Bards of old have sateAnd sung the pleasant enterludes of Fate,
Thou takest the hereditary shade
Which Natures homely Art had made,
And thence thou giv'st thy Muse her swing, and she
Advances to the Galaxie;
There with the sparkling Cowley she above
Does hand in hand in graceful Measures move.
We groveling Mortals gaze below,
And long in vain to know
Her wondrous paths, her wondrous flight
In raine; alas! we grope,
In vain we use our earthly Telescope,
We'r blinded by an intermedial night:
Thine Eagle-Muse can only face
The fiery Coursers in their race,
While with unequal paces we do try
To bear her train aloft, and keep her company.
II.
[The loud harmonious Mantuan]
The loud harmonious MantuanOnce charm'd the world, and here's the Uscan Swan
In his declining years does chime,
And challenges the last remains of Time.
Ages run on, and soon give o're,
They have their Graves as well as we,
Time swallows all that's past and more,
This is the only profits Poets see.
There thy triumphant Muse shall ride in state
And lead in Chains devouring Fate;
Claudian's bright Phœnix she shall bring
Thee an immortal offering;
Nor shall my humble tributary Muse
Her homage and attendance too refuse,
She thrusts her self among the Crowd
And joyning in th' applause she strives to clap aloud.
III.
[Tell me no more that Nature is severe]
Tell me no more that Nature is severeThou great Philosopher!
Lo she has laid her vast Exchequer here.
Tell me no more that she has sent
So much already she is spent;
Here is a vast America behind
Which none but the great Silurist could find.
Nature her last edition was the best,
As big, as rich as all the rest
So will we here admit
Another world of Wit.
No rude or savage fancy here shall stay
The travailing Reader in his way,
But every coast is clear: go where he will
Vertu's the road Thalia leads him still:
Long may she live, and wreath thy sacred head
For this her happy resurrection from the dead.
N. W. Jes. Coll. Oxon.
| Thalia Rediviva | |