 | Songs and other poems (1668) |  |
On Mr. Alexander Brome's Poems
I.
How long had Poetry a captive beenTo such as basely made
Their Jaylor-ship a Trade,
That shew'd her with a cautious secrecy,
Through mysterious vails
Of dark Allegory,
And most prodigious tales?
(Which for the Layety to disbelieve was sin,)
Till thou Defender of the Faith cam'st in?
2.
The knots, that they so cunningly had ty'deWith superstitious Charms;
Like Alexander thou cam'st to divide
If not by Art, by Armes:
In vain oppos'd the Legions of the Dead,
The Roman Veterans,
Alas! they long had been misled,
Through politick Tradition;
Now, as their Gods, amaz'd they fled,
And left their ridling Fanes
At the true Prophets mission.
3.
Thus freed, to thee, (as if to oneWho had unty'de her Virgin Zone;)
She most affectionately come,
Shew'd thee her purest excellence
VVas not confin'd to words, but sence;
And that so naturally free,
As was the worlds first Infancy,
Though now, she and her Art had lost a name.
4.
Her Rules exactly thou dost imitateIn every thing thou dost express;
Whether thou piously dost celebrate
The Birth or Martyrdom of Kings,
Or shew'st in subtle turns of State,
The strange Vicissitude of things,
How is it done without affectedness?
Thou labour'st for no far-fetch't Metaphors,
Nor does thy judgment stray,
After Phantastick Meteors,
Made to misguide the way;
But by a certain calculation knows
Wits lowest Elbs and highest flows.
5.
Anacreon be thy Judge whose heats Divine,Thou dost not starve but feed,
And as inspir'd with his own wine
Aptly giv'st fuel when is need,
Horace, Apoll's truest Son
Shall vouch his Odes as sweetly run,
As if they had been made all, at Blandusium:
Thou never make'st his shortnesses obscure
Nor cool'st the rigor of his Ire,
That let'st his Satyrs fly with their own flame and fire:
For which thy name shall as Mecænas's indure.
Lucretius should have witness'd to, how he
Admir'd his Father Epicures's Philosophy.
Explaind by thy new Organum of Poetry:
But Jealous Heav'n did grutch
Th'ungrateful Earth should know too much;
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Men might new Gods and other worlds have made.
6.
Alas! Why sillily do I pretend,Thus to describe the History
That's better annaliz'd by thee.
And shall outdare Eternity; to discommend
Thy Book, now (Cæsar like) thou'rt gone
Into a Constellation;
Like Cæsar's shall be ever read,
Till Earth and Seas gives up their Dead.
Thy name, like his shall worship'd be; (although
Thou hadst no Brutus here below.)
Absolute Prince, thou keept'st competitors in Aw,
In time of War, by Wit, in Peace, by Law.
R. Th. Jun.
| Songs and other poems (1668) | |