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University of Virginia Library

Poems Upon Several Occasions

By Benj. Hawkshaw

Hawkshaw, Benjamin

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On the hopefull Author of these Ingenious Poems.

To the Ingenious Mr. Hawkshaw on the Publication of his Poems.

To my Ingenious Friend Mr. Hawkshaw, on the Advance of the Poetry.

To the Ingenious Author, now of the Colledge in Dublin.

ON K. CHARLES IId's; Restoration.

The Dream that Night Limerick was surrendred.

On the Death of the Young Lady I. S.

On Dr. G. refreshing himself each Morning in St. John's Walks.

The good-Fellow.

On a Friend who desir'd me to make a Copy of Verses on his Name.

An Allusion to Claudian's Epigram on Archimedes's Sphere.

Against Knowledge.

Translated from the Italian Poet Sannazarius.

An Apology for Rome in Answer to that from Venice, translated from a Latin Copy.

A Morning's Thought.

To Mr. J. C. Sometime School-Master in Dublin.

On a Fly that was drown'd in a Ladies Mouth.

On the River Cam.

The Retirement.

On the Preservation of the Library in Dublin-College.

Tu ne quæfieris, out of Hor. Paraphras'd.

The Meditation.

On the Popish Conspiracy.

On the Shortness of Man's Life.

A Dialogue between Reason and the Inferior Powers.

From the Italian Poets.

The Indifferency.

On the King's landing at Harwich, after he had been expos'd to many Dangers in his Voyage to Holland.

On Dr. G. Reducing the Years to Terms, which were requisite for them who took their Bachelours Degree.

The Golden-Age.

The Recantation.

From Sannarius.

On the unhappy State of Ireland, by reason of the Civil War.

The Consolation.

On the Death of the most Renown'd Pierce Brackenbury Doctour of Physick, and Senior Fellow of St. John's.

On the Earl of Danby's couragious Enterprise at La-Hogue, who set the French Ships on fire.

The Consummation.

Love-Verses, SONGS AND TRANSLATIONS, By the same Hand.

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On the Shortness of Man's Life.

I

The Lamp of Life decays each Minute more,
The better Substance's so far gone,
The Flames the outward Case feed on;
Who then can our lost Oil restore?
Time does and will on all things prey,
So hungry that at last, 'twill eat it self away.

II

Some matter still the blazing Sun supplies,
And satisfies that greedy Flame,
Tho' he still wasts he's still the same,
Feeding on all th' adjacent Skies;
But when Man's press'd below the Line,
He never sees again his Native Clime.

III

Swift as the Wind his Life runs fleeting on,
Hurried by the Bent of Tide,
In Charon's Boat to th' other Side,
Before he knows his Life is gone;

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So bad his Inn, so short his Age,
He doubts if e'er he'd been upon the Stage.

IV

'Tis vain to boast with Pride, he's Fortunes heir,
That strength and pow'r from her is giv'n,
To bribe the Messengers of Heav'n,
Seeing the fatal Day's so near:
So with these Fools blind Fortune plays,
And whilst she smiles, unravels all their days.

V

He lives a Nestor's Age, who lives this Day,
And with each setting Sun
His Stage in doing well has run,
And trifles not his Time away;
The best the longest Livers prove,
And he is best who spends it most in Love.