Lyric Poems Made in Imitation of the Italians. Of which, many are Translations From other Languages ... By Philip Ayres |
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Timocles the Athenian
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 | Lyric Poems |  |
165
Timocles the Athenian
His Remedies against the Miseries of Man's LIFE.
Consider well this Truth, for 'tis of Use,
Nature did ne'er a Thing like Man produce,
So charg'd with Ills, from which so seldome free.
Sometimes his Life's a Scene of Misery.
Nor Humane Industry can Respite gain,
For his Soul's Anguish, or his Body's Pain,
But by reflecting what some Men endure,
Which to himself may present Ease procure,
And Tales of what in former times was done,
Laid in the Scale, and weigh'd against his own.
Nature did ne'er a Thing like Man produce,
So charg'd with Ills, from which so seldome free.
Sometimes his Life's a Scene of Misery.
Nor Humane Industry can Respite gain,
For his Soul's Anguish, or his Body's Pain,
But by reflecting what some Men endure,
Which to himself may present Ease procure,
And Tales of what in former times was done,
Laid in the Scale, and weigh'd against his own.
Art thou reduc'd to beg from door to door?
When Telephus was young he suffer'd more;
In Woods expos'd, without Relief he lay,
For some devouring Beasts a Royal Pray;
If thou, with his, thy Miseries compare,
Thou wilt confess he had the greatest share.
When Telephus was young he suffer'd more;
In Woods expos'd, without Relief he lay,
For some devouring Beasts a Royal Pray;
If thou, with his, thy Miseries compare,
Thou wilt confess he had the greatest share.
166
Have Troubles turn'd thy Brain to make thee rage?
Thoughts of Alcmæon may thy Griefs asswage;
By Fury's scourg'd, he Mad, in Torments di'd,
Yet justly suffer'd for his Parricide.
Thoughts of Alcmæon may thy Griefs asswage;
By Fury's scourg'd, he Mad, in Torments di'd,
Yet justly suffer'd for his Parricide.
Wert thou by chance, or made by others blind?
Call Oedipus the Theban King to mind;
Who quit his Throne, himself of sight depriv'd,
Became more wretched still, the more he liv'd,
Till Sorrow brake his Heart, which scarcely cou'd
Atone for Incest, and his Father's Bloud.
Call Oedipus the Theban King to mind;
Who quit his Throne, himself of sight depriv'd,
Became more wretched still, the more he liv'd,
Till Sorrow brake his Heart, which scarcely cou'd
Atone for Incest, and his Father's Bloud.
Thy Son if dead, or was in Battel slain?
A greater Loss did Niobe sustain;
She saw her fourteen Children slaughter'd ly,
A Punishment for her IMPIETY,
Who great Latona's Off-spring had defy'd,
By whom, thus Childless, drown'd in Tears, she dy'd.
A greater Loss did Niobe sustain;
She saw her fourteen Children slaughter'd ly,
A Punishment for her IMPIETY,
Who great Latona's Off-spring had defy'd,
By whom, thus Childless, drown'd in Tears, she dy'd.
On Philoctetes think, should'st thou be lame;
He a most pow'rful Prince endur'd the same;
To conquer Troy he shew'd the Greeks a Way,
To whom he did the Fatal Shafts betray;
His Foot disclos'd the Secret of his Heart,
For which, that treach'rous Foot endur'd the Smart.
He a most pow'rful Prince endur'd the same;
To conquer Troy he shew'd the Greeks a Way,
To whom he did the Fatal Shafts betray;
His Foot disclos'd the Secret of his Heart,
For which, that treach'rous Foot endur'd the Smart.
167
Hast thou thy Life in Ease and Pleasure led,
Till Age contract thy Nerves, and bow thy Head?
Then, of thy greatest Joy on Earth, bereft,
O'erwhelm'd in Sorrow, and Despair, art left?
So old King Oeneus lost his valiant Son,
For Slights himself had to Diana shown,
Slain by his Mother when he had destroy'd
The Boar, which long his Father's Realm annoy'd:
Which Actress in this Mischief felt her share,
Her self becoming her own Murtherer.
The Father losing thus his Son, and Wife,
Ended in Cryes and Tears his wretched Life.
Till Age contract thy Nerves, and bow thy Head?
Then, of thy greatest Joy on Earth, bereft,
O'erwhelm'd in Sorrow, and Despair, art left?
So old King Oeneus lost his valiant Son,
For Slights himself had to Diana shown,
Slain by his Mother when he had destroy'd
The Boar, which long his Father's Realm annoy'd:
Which Actress in this Mischief felt her share,
Her self becoming her own Murtherer.
The Father losing thus his Son, and Wife,
Ended in Cryes and Tears his wretched Life.
Are Kings thus forc'd to yield to rig'rous Fate?
It may Thy lesser Ills alleviate.
It may Thy lesser Ills alleviate.
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