Mr. Cooke's Original Poems with Imitations and Translations of Several Select Passages of the Antients, In Four Parts: To which are added Proposals For perfecting the English Language |
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| [FABLES.] |
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 | Mr. Cooke's Original Poems |  |
133
[FABLES.]
FABLE the First. The Rose and the Lilly.
On
Thames, where some fair Eden blows,
Betwixt the Lilly and the Rose
Thus the Dispute, from Pride, began,
Which blooms the lovely'st Flow'r to Man.
Betwixt the Lilly and the Rose
Thus the Dispute, from Pride, began,
Which blooms the lovely'st Flow'r to Man.
Vain Rose, the Lilly cry'd, forbear
With mine your Beautys to compare.
The Poet, in his am'rous Strain,
To render his Melissa vain,
Calls her the Lilly of the Vale
More fragrant than an eastern Gale;
The Tears, with which her Eyelids swell,
Are Dewdrops on the Lillybell.
Princes, in their Attire, must yield
To the fair Lilly of the Field;
They shine by Art in Purple dress'd,
I in my native candid Vest:
Therefore, presuming Rose, forbear
With mine your Beautys to compare.
With mine your Beautys to compare.
The Poet, in his am'rous Strain,
To render his Melissa vain,
Calls her the Lilly of the Vale
More fragrant than an eastern Gale;
The Tears, with which her Eyelids swell,
Are Dewdrops on the Lillybell.
Princes, in their Attire, must yield
To the fair Lilly of the Field;
They shine by Art in Purple dress'd,
I in my native candid Vest:
134
With mine your Beautys to compare.
The Rose exerted thus her Pow'r,
In Answer to th'insulting Flow'r.
In Answer to th'insulting Flow'r.
All you have say'd I grant is true,
Now hear what to the Rose is due.
What Poet in the Verse of Praise,
To grace his Mistress, and his Lays,
(Look o'er the Bards of Greece and Rome,)
Bids on the Cheek no Roses bloom?
While Zephyr unregarded blows,
She breathes the Sweetness of the Rose.
The vernal Gales, which round me play,
Fly loaded with my Sweets away.
When were your Leaves, proud Lilly, lay'd
In the soft Bosom of the Maid?
Hence know my Worth, and hence forbear
With mine your Beautys to compare.
Now hear what to the Rose is due.
What Poet in the Verse of Praise,
To grace his Mistress, and his Lays,
(Look o'er the Bards of Greece and Rome,)
Bids on the Cheek no Roses bloom?
While Zephyr unregarded blows,
She breathes the Sweetness of the Rose.
The vernal Gales, which round me play,
Fly loaded with my Sweets away.
When were your Leaves, proud Lilly, lay'd
In the soft Bosom of the Maid?
Hence know my Worth, and hence forbear
With mine your Beautys to compare.
Th'enliv'ning Sun his Beams withdrew;
The Rose and Lilly chang'd their Hue:
Fast fell the fatal heavy Show'r,
And lay'd in Dust each haughty Flow'r.
The Rose and Lilly chang'd their Hue:
Fast fell the fatal heavy Show'r,
And lay'd in Dust each haughty Flow'r.
135
Hence lovely Maid, dear Celia, learn,
And Cloe hence this Truth discern;
Ye are but what the Fable shows,
The Lilly one, and one the Rose.
What Beautys in Oblivion ly,
Who charm'd like you the wond'ring Eye!
Helen, a fav'rite Child of Fame,
And Lucreece chast, is but a Name.
Dear Charmers hence your Fate ye see:
Such Celia such must Cloe be.
And Cloe hence this Truth discern;
Ye are but what the Fable shows,
The Lilly one, and one the Rose.
What Beautys in Oblivion ly,
Who charm'd like you the wond'ring Eye!
Helen, a fav'rite Child of Fame,
And Lucreece chast, is but a Name.
Dear Charmers hence your Fate ye see:
Such Celia such must Cloe be.
136
FABLE the Second. The Ass.
One Holyday, as Æsop says,For Asses have their Holydays,
A worthless Creature of his Kind,
With all the Vices of the Mind,
A peevish, kicking, idle, Elf,
That hated all above himself,
Who by his Master well was fed,
Yet grudg'd his fellow Slaves their Bread,
Was saunt'ring by the woodland Side,
And found by Chance a Lion's Hyde:
The Shadow of the kingly Beast
Renew'd the Envy of his Breast;
And, when from Head to Tail survey'd,
Thus, pricking up his Ears, he say'd,
For once, it ne'er may be again,
An Ass shall lord it o'er the Plain.
Then soon, elate with aukward Pride,
He cas'd him in the shaggy Hyde.
137
And there a-while the Tyrant play'd.
The humble Wretches of his Reign
All saw, and trembled at, his Mane.
The Fox, allow'd a subtle Creature,
Well view'd him o'er in ev'ry Feature.
Suspecting, as he prov'd indeed,
He was not of the royal Breed;
Where'er he goes he closely steals,
A dang'rous Spy, behind his Heels.
Once on a Day, a luckless Day,
As on the Watch sly Reynard lay,
His Majesty himself betray'd,
Who striv'd to roar, and only bray'd:
Ha! ha! quoth he, my Liege, thus low
I pay the Homage that I owe;
Your Subjects all shall do the same.
At this Alarm of Reynard came,
Some Foes before, united there,
The Bull, the Tyger, and the Bear;
The Prince, once Object of their Dread,
They make their Jest from Tail to Head.
They seiz'd him by his Ass's Ears,
And rid the Nation of their Fears,
Shamefully driv'd him from the Plain,
And ended thus his Assship's Reign.
138
FABLE the Third. The Lark.
The gaudy Peacock, and the glossy Dove,
The Bird of Juno, and the Queen of Love,
Met in that Season, at the Dawn of Day,
When Nature smiles, and all the Fields are gay.
Sure, says Sir Plume, you'll never strive again
To vy with me, when you behold my Train;
When you the Beautys of my Person see,
Envy, but never more contend with me.
What but my Charms procur'd me the Esteem
Of aweful Juno, of her Sex supreme?
Shall it be say'd, that Turturrellus strove
With me, Attendant on the Wife of Jove?
Hence, says the Bird of Venus, Boaster fly;
And with thy Fool's Coat charm th'ill-judging Eye.
Me Men, and Gods, with Admiration view,
Plain, unaffected, with my glossy Hue.
No screaming Voice is mine; my gentle Coo
Instructs the faithful Lover how to woo.
These are the Merits of the courtly Dove,
Of me, Attendant on the Queen of Love.
Just as Sir Plume began his sharp Reply,
They both receiv'd a Summons from the Sky.
The Goddesses, prepar'd to journey far,
Each call'd her Birds to harness to the Car.
Not one his Flight a Moment dares delay,
But to his Office each directs his Way.
Just by a Lark, couch'd in his humble Nest,
Betwixt the Courtiers hear'd the fierce Contest:
O! Gods, he cry'd, on what was this Debate,
But who is first among the Slaves of State?
Here be my Dwelling on this native Sod,
Free from Subjection to a Tyrant's Nod.
Here to the Sons of Pride I live unknown,
Lord of myself, and all these Fields my own.
Dayly I strive to make my Friends rejoice,
And cheer my Neighbours with my grateful Voice;
And ev'ry Morn my Tribute first I pay
To whom I owe my all, the God of Day.
He ended here, and from his Nest begun,
With his best Note, to greet the rising Sun.
The Bird of Juno, and the Queen of Love,
Met in that Season, at the Dawn of Day,
When Nature smiles, and all the Fields are gay.
Sure, says Sir Plume, you'll never strive again
To vy with me, when you behold my Train;
When you the Beautys of my Person see,
Envy, but never more contend with me.
What but my Charms procur'd me the Esteem
Of aweful Juno, of her Sex supreme?
Shall it be say'd, that Turturrellus strove
With me, Attendant on the Wife of Jove?
Hence, says the Bird of Venus, Boaster fly;
And with thy Fool's Coat charm th'ill-judging Eye.
Me Men, and Gods, with Admiration view,
Plain, unaffected, with my glossy Hue.
No screaming Voice is mine; my gentle Coo
Instructs the faithful Lover how to woo.
139
Of me, Attendant on the Queen of Love.
Just as Sir Plume began his sharp Reply,
They both receiv'd a Summons from the Sky.
The Goddesses, prepar'd to journey far,
Each call'd her Birds to harness to the Car.
Not one his Flight a Moment dares delay,
But to his Office each directs his Way.
Just by a Lark, couch'd in his humble Nest,
Betwixt the Courtiers hear'd the fierce Contest:
O! Gods, he cry'd, on what was this Debate,
But who is first among the Slaves of State?
Here be my Dwelling on this native Sod,
Free from Subjection to a Tyrant's Nod.
Here to the Sons of Pride I live unknown,
Lord of myself, and all these Fields my own.
Dayly I strive to make my Friends rejoice,
And cheer my Neighbours with my grateful Voice;
And ev'ry Morn my Tribute first I pay
To whom I owe my all, the God of Day.
He ended here, and from his Nest begun,
With his best Note, to greet the rising Sun.
Thrice happy is the Man whose envy'd State
From Pride secludes him, and the Fool's Debate;
Contented he enjoys what Nature yields,
And inambitious plows his native Fields;
Just to the rich, and gen'rous to the poor,
He open keeps his hospitable Door;
Whose well pass'd Days, without a Fear, defy
The Hate or Malice of the sharpest Eye.
From Pride secludes him, and the Fool's Debate;
140
And inambitious plows his native Fields;
Just to the rich, and gen'rous to the poor,
He open keeps his hospitable Door;
Whose well pass'd Days, without a Fear, defy
The Hate or Malice of the sharpest Eye.
| Mr. Cooke's Original Poems | |