 | Poems (1892) |  |
30
XIX. TO THE TRANSLATOR OF LUCAN.
(1614.)
Had Lucan hid the truth to please the time,
He had been too unworthy of thy pen,
Who never sought nor ever cared to climb
By flattery, or seeking worthless men.
For this thou hast been bruised; but yet those scars
Do beautify no less than those wounds do,
Received in just and in religious wars;
Though thou hast bled by both, and bearest them too.
Change not! To change thy fortune 'tis too late:
Who with a manly faith resolves to die,
May promise to himself a lasting state,
Though not so great, yet free from infamy.
Such was thy Lucan, whom so to translate,
Nature thy muse like Lucan's did create.
W. R.
| Poems (1892) | |