 | The Lady-Errant |  |
To the Memory of Mr William Cartvvright.
Sure
'tis no vulgar chance, or common thing
When I dare move in publike too, and bring
My humble Mite here 'mong the learned Crew
Of those, who've wreath'd their Laurels into Yew.
And who can now contain to see thy Sun
(Blest Cartvvright) setting, and the world undon?
To see sick Learning bed ridden, and all
Her Nerves so discomposed in thy Fall?
That her remaining body can be se'd
But a meer Skeleton since thy Soul is fled:
Invention's in a Trance, and Fancy sits
Benum'd with sorrows Apoplectick Fits:
Our Tempe too is desart, and those high
Springs of sweet Aganippe are grown dry,
Abandon'd by the Nine, who since are said
To haunt a new one which their tears have made
For thee (admired Cartvvright) where they mourn
As if they meant to drown thee in thine Urn.
When I dare move in publike too, and bring
My humble Mite here 'mong the learned Crew
Of those, who've wreath'd their Laurels into Yew.
And who can now contain to see thy Sun
(Blest Cartvvright) setting, and the world undon?
To see sick Learning bed ridden, and all
Her Nerves so discomposed in thy Fall?
That her remaining body can be se'd
But a meer Skeleton since thy Soul is fled:
Invention's in a Trance, and Fancy sits
Benum'd with sorrows Apoplectick Fits:
Our Tempe too is desart, and those high
Springs of sweet Aganippe are grown dry,
Abandon'd by the Nine, who since are said
To haunt a new one which their tears have made
For thee (admired Cartvvright) where they mourn
As if they meant to drown thee in thine Urn.
Nor should they weep a Deluge, could th' ingross
Their Grief to such a Sum as is their loss:
Irreparable loss! for thou didst sit
Inthron'd, our chief Commissioner of Wit:
Whose Buskin rul'd the Genius of our age,
And gave both Life and Lustre to the Stage;
Where thy sweet Raptures such impression made,
They alwaies conquer'd where they did perswade:
The charming language of whose Layes might steep,
Teaching the rigid Stoick how to weep;
And force the sullen Anch'rit to retire
From his damp Cell to thy inchanting Quire.
Their Grief to such a Sum as is their loss:
Irreparable loss! for thou didst sit
Inthron'd, our chief Commissioner of Wit:
Whose Buskin rul'd the Genius of our age,
And gave both Life and Lustre to the Stage;
They alwaies conquer'd where they did perswade:
The charming language of whose Layes might steep,
Teaching the rigid Stoick how to weep;
And force the sullen Anch'rit to retire
From his damp Cell to thy inchanting Quire.
And must all Fancy die, or have this doom
To be confin'd a pris'ner to thy Tomb?
Awake then glorious Sp'rit! awake, and raise
Thy Temples up, while Coronets of Bayes,
With all those Trophies due to Poets, spread
Their circling branches to surround thy head.
See how the Muses flock here to resign
Themselves as offerings to the new-built shrine
Of thy rich Poems; which shall rear thy Pile
'Bove those aspiring Pyramids of Nile.
For as thy famous Colledge has the trust
Preferr'd to be the Wardrobe of thy Dust,
So hath S. Paul thy Reliques, and shall be
A walking Monument both to them and thee;
Whose Pious Cœmetery shall still keep
Thy Virbius waking, though thy Ashes sleep.
To be confin'd a pris'ner to thy Tomb?
Awake then glorious Sp'rit! awake, and raise
Thy Temples up, while Coronets of Bayes,
With all those Trophies due to Poets, spread
Their circling branches to surround thy head.
See how the Muses flock here to resign
Themselves as offerings to the new-built shrine
Of thy rich Poems; which shall rear thy Pile
'Bove those aspiring Pyramids of Nile.
For as thy famous Colledge has the trust
Preferr'd to be the Wardrobe of thy Dust,
So hath S. Paul thy Reliques, and shall be
A walking Monument both to them and thee;
Whose Pious Cœmetery shall still keep
Thy Virbius waking, though thy Ashes sleep.
Robert Gardiner ex ho. M. Templi.
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