Obrazy na stronie
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Rouz'd from my bed, I speedily ascend
The houses' tops, and listening there attend.
As flames roll'd by the winds' conspiring force,
O'er full-ear'd corn, or torrents' raging course
Bears down th'opposing oaks, the fields destroys,
And mocks the plough-man's toil, th' unlook’d-
for noise
From neighbouring hills th’ amazed shepherd
hears;
Such my surprise, and such their rage appears.
First fell thy house, Ucalegon, then thine
Deiphobus, Sigaean seas did shine
Bright with Troy's flames; the trumpets dreadful
sound
The louder groans of dying men confound;
“Give me my arms,” I cry’d, resolv'd to throw
Myself'mong any that oppos'd the foe:
Rage, anger, and despair at once suggest,
That of all deaths to die in arms was best.
The first I met was Pantheus, Phoebus' priest,
Who, 'scaping with his gods and reliques, fled,
And towards the shore his little grandchild led.
“Pantheus, what hope remains? what force,
what place
Made good?” but sighing, hereplies, “Alas!
Trojans we were, and mighty Ilium was;
But the last period, and the fatal hour
Of Troy is come: our glory and our power
Incensed Jove's transfers to Grecian hands;
The foe within the burning town commands;
And (like a smother'd fire) an unseen force
Breaks from the bowels of the fatal horse:
Insulting Simon flings about the flame,
And thousands more than e'er from Argos came
Possess the gates, the passes, and the streets,
And these the sword o'ertakes, and those it meets.
The guard nor fights, nor flies; their fate so
near
At once suspends their courage and their fear.”
Thus by the gods, and by Atrides' words
Inspir'd, I make my way through fire, through
swords,
Where noises, tumults, outcries, and alarms,
I heard. First Iphitus, renown'd for arms,
We meet, who knew us (for the Moon did shine);
Then Ripheus, Hypanis, and Dymas join
Their force, and young Choroebus, Mygdon's
Who, by the love of fair Cassandra, won, [son,
Arriv'd but lately in her father's aid;
Unhappy, whom the threats could not dissuade
Of his prophetic spouse;
Whom when I saw yet daring to maintain
The fight, I said, “Brave spirits (but in vain)
Are you resolv'd to follow one who dares
Tempt all extremes; the state of our affairs
You see: the gods have left us, by whose aid
Our empire stood; nor can the flame be staid:
Then let us fall amidst our foes; this one
Relief the vanquish'd have, to hope for none.”
Then reinforc'd, as in a stormy might
Wolves urged by their raging appetite
Forage for prey, which their neglected young
With greedy jaws expect, ev'n so among
Foes, fire, and swords, t' assured death we pass,
Barkness our guide, Despair our leader was.
Who can relate that evening's woes and spoils,
Or can his tears proportion to our toils?
The city, which solong had flourish'd, falls;
Death triumphs o'er the houses, temples, walls.
vol. vii.

Nor only on the Trojans fell this doom,
Their hearts at last the vanquish'd re-assume;
And now the victors fall: on all sides fears,
Groans and pale Death in all her shapes appears:
Androgeus first with his whole troop was cast
Upon us, with civility misplac'd ;
Thus greeting us, “You lose by your delay,
Your share both of the honour and the prey;
Others the spoils of burning Troy convey
Back to those ships which you but now forsake.”
We making no return, his sad mistake
Too late he finds: as when an unseen snake
A traveller's unwary foot hath prest,
Who trembling starts when the snake's azure
Swoln with his rising anger, he espies, screst,
So from our view surpriz’d Androgeus flies.
But here an easy victory we meet: [feet.
Fear binds their hands, and ignorance their
Whilst fortune our first enterprize did aid,
Encourag’d with success, Choroebus said,
“O friends we now by better Fates are led,
And the fair path they lead us, let us tread.
First change your arms, and their distinctions
The same, in foes, deceit and virtue are.”[bear;
Then of his arms Androgeus he divests,
His sword, his shield he takes, and plumed crests,
Then Ripheus, Dymas, and the rest, all glad
Of the occasion, in fresh spoils are clad.
Thus mixt with Greeks, as if their fortune still
Follow'd their swords, we fight, pursue, and kill.
Some re-ascend the horse, and he whose sides
Letforth the valiant, now the coward hides.
Some to their safer guard, their ships, retire;
But vain's that hope, 'gainst which the gods con-
Behold the royal virgin, the divine [spire:
Cassandra, from Minerva's fatal shrine [vain,
Dragg'd by the hair, casting towards heaven, in
Her eyes; for cords her tender hands did strain ;
Choroebus, at the spectacle enrag'd -
Flies in amidst the foes: we thus engag’d,
To second him, among the thickest ran;
Here first our ruin from our friends began,
Who from the temple's battlements a shower
Ofdarts and arrows on ourheads did pour ;
They us for Greeks, and now the Greeks (who
Cassandra's rescue) us for Trojans slew. [knew
Then from all parts Ulysses, Ajax then,
And then th’ Atridae, rally all their men;
As winds, that meet from several coasts, contest,
Their prisons being broke, the south and west,
And Eurus on his winged coursers borne,
Triumphing in their speed, the woods are torn,
And chasing Nereus with his trident throws
The billows from the bottom; then all those
Who in the dark our fury did escape,
Returning, know our borrow'd arms, and shape,
And different dialect: then their numbers swell
And grow upon us. First Choroebus fell
Before Minerva’s altar, next did bleed
Just Ripheus, whom no Trojan did exceed
In virtue, yet the gods his fate decreed.
Then Hypanis and Dymas, wounded by
Their friends; nor thee, Pantheus, thy piety,
Nor consecrated mitre, from the same
Ill fate could save ; my country's funeral flame
And Troy's cold ashes I attest, and call
To witness for myself, that in their fall
No fees, no death, nor danger, I declin'd,
Did, and deserv'd no less, Iny fate to find.

- rt.

Now Iphitus with me, and Pelias Slowly retire ; the one retarded was By feeble age, the other by a wound. To court the cry directs us, where we found Th’ assault so hot, as if 'twere only there, And all the rest secure from foes or fear: The Greeks the gates approach'd, their targets cast Over their heads; some scaling ladders plac'd Against the walls, the rest the steps ascend, And with their shields on their left arms defend Arrows and darts, and with their right hold fast The battlement; on them the Trojans cast Stones, rafters, pillars, beams ; such arms as these, Now hopeless, for their last defence they seize. The gilded roofs, the marks of ancient state, They tumble down ; and now against the gate Of th’ inner court their growing force they bring : Now was our last effort to save the king, Relieve the fainting, and succeed the dead. A private gallery 'twixt th' apartments led, Not to the foe yet known, or not observ'd, (The way for Hector's hapless wife reserv'd, When to the aged king, her little son [run She would present) through this we pass, and Up to the highest battlement, from whence The Trojans threw their darts without offence, A tower so high, it seem'd to reach the sky, Stood on the roof, from whence we could descry All Ilium—both the camps, the Grecian fleet; This, where the beams upon the columns meet, We loosen, which like thunder from the cloud Breaks on their heads, as sudden and as loud. But others still succeed : meantime, nor stones Nor any kind of weapons cease. Before the gate in gilded armour shone [grown, Young Pyrrhus, like a snake, his skin new Who fed on poisonous herbs, all winter lay Under the ground, and now reviews the day Fresh in his new apparel, proud and young, Rolls up his back, and brandishes his tongue, And lifts his scaly breast against the Sun; With him his father's squire, Automedon, #. Peripas, who drove his winged steeds, 2nter the court; whom all the youth succeeds Of Scyros' isle, who slaming firebrands flung , Up to the roof; Pyrrhus himself among The foremost with an axe an entrance hews Through beams of solid oak, then freely views The chambers, galleries, and rooms of state, Where Priam and the ancient monarchs sat. At the first gate an armed guard appears ; But th’ immer court with horrour, noise, and tears, Confus'dly fill’d, the women's shrieks and cries The arch'd vaults re-echo to the skies; Sad matrons wandering through the spacious rooms Embrace and kiss the posts: then Pyrrhus comes Full of his father, neither men nor walls His force sustain, the torn portcullis falls, Then from the hinge their strokes the gates divorce, And where the way they cannot find, they force. Not with such rage a swelling torrent flows Above his banks, th' opposing dams o'erthrows, Depopulates the fields, the cattle, sheep, Shepherds and folds, the foaming surges sweep.

And now between two sad extremes I stood, Here Pyrrhus and th’ Atridae drunk with blood, There th' hapless queen amongst an hundred dames, And Priam quenching from his wounds those flames Which his own hands had on the altar laid ; Then they the secret cabinets invade, Where stood the fifty nuptial beds, the hopes Of that great race; the golden posts,whose tops Old hostile spoils adorn'd, demolish'd lay, Or to the foe, or to the fire a prey. Now, Priam's fate perhaps you may inqnire: Seeing his empire lost, his Troy on fire, And his own palace by the Greeks possest, Arms long disus’d his trembling limbs invest; Thus on his foes he throws himself alone, Not for their fate, but to provoke his own: There stood an altar open to the view Of Heaven, near which an aged laurel grew, Whose shady arms the household gods embrac'd, Before whose feet the queen herself had cast With all her daughters, and the Trojan wives, As doves whom an approaching tempest drives And frights into one flock; but having spy'd Old Priam clad in youthful arm, she cried, “Alas, my wretched husband, what pretence To bear those arms, and in them what defence? Such aid such times require not, when again If Hector were alive, he liv'd in vain ; Or here weshall a sanctuary find, Or as in life we shall in death be join'd.” Then weeping, with kind force held and embrac'd, And on the secret seat the king she plac'd, Meantime Polites, one of Priam's sons, Flying the rage of bloody Pyrrhus, runs Through foes and swords, and ranges all the court, And empty galleries, amaz'd and hurt; Pyrrhus pursues him, now o'ertakes, now kills, And his last blood in Priam's presence spills. The king (though him so many deaths enclose) Nor fear, nor grief, but indignation shows; “The gods requite thee, (if within the care Of those above th’ affairs of mortals are) Whose fury on the son but lost had been, Had not his parents' eyes his murder seen: Not that Achilles (whom thou feign'st to be Thy father) so inhuman was to me; He blusht, when I the rights of arms implor'd; To me my Hector, me to Troy restor'd:” This said, his feeble arm a javelin flung, Which on the sounding shield, scarce entering, rung. Then Pyrrhus; “Go a messenger to Hell Of my black deeds, and to my father tell The acts of his degenerate race.” So through His son's warm blood the trembling king he drew To th' altar; in his hair one hand he wreaths; His sword the other in his bosom sheaths. Thus fell the king, who yet surviv'd the state, With such a signal and peculiar fate, Under so vast a ruin, not a grave, Nor in such flames a funeral fire to have: He whom such titles swell’d, such power made proud, To whom the sceptres of all Asia bow’d, On the cold earth lies th’ unregarded king, Aheadless carcase, and a nameless thing.

[graphic]

ON THE EARL OF STRAFFORD...TO A PERSON OF HONOUR. 243

ON THE EARL OF STRAFFORD’S TRIAL AND DE.MTH.

Garat Strafford ' worthy of that name, though all

of thee could be forgotten, but thy fall,
Crush'd by imaginary treason's weight,
Which too much merit did accumulate:
Aschymists gold from brass by fire would draw,
Pretexts are into treason forg’d by law.
His wisdom such, at once it did appear
Three kingdoms’ wonder, and three kingdoms'

, fear; While single he stood forth, and seem’d, although Each had an army, as an equal foe. Such was his force of eloquence, to make The hearers more concern'd than he that spake ; Each seem'd to act that part he came to see, And none was more a looker-on than he 5 So did he move our passions, some were known To wish, for the defence, the crime their own. Now private pity strove with public hate, Reason with rage, and eloquence with fate: Now they could him, if he could them forgive ; He's not too guilty, but too wise to live; Less seem those facts which Treason's mick-name

bore,

Than such a fear'd ability for more.
They after death their fears of him express,
His innocence and their own guilt confess.
Their legislative frenzy they repent:
Enacting it should make no precedent. [lose
This fate he could have 'scap'd, but would not
Honour for life, but rather nobly chose
Death from their fears, than safety from his

own, That his last action all the rest might crown.

To A PERSON OF HONOUR,

on his 1.Ncompan ABLE POEM7.

What mighty gale hath rais'd a flight so strong?
So high above all vulgar eyes! so long 2
One single rapture scarce itself confines
Within the limits of fourthousand lines:
And yet I hope to see this noble heat
Continue, till it makes the piece complete,
That to the latter age it may descend,
And to the end of time its beams extend.
When Poesy joins profit with delight,
Her images should be most exquisite,

1 The honourable Edward. Howard, by his poem called The British Princes, engaged the attention of by far the most eminent of his eontemporaries; who played upon his vanity, as the wits of half a century before had done on that of Thomas Coryat, by writing extravagant compliments on his works. See Butler's, Waller's, Sprat's, and Dorset's verses,in their respective volumes; and in the Select Collection of Miscelianeous Poems, 1780, vol. III. p. 105, are other verses on the same subject, by Marton Clifford, and the lord Vaughan. N.

Since man to that perfection cannot rise,
Of always virtuous, fortunate, and wise;
Therefore the patterns man shouldimitate
Above the life our masters should create,
Herein, if we consult with Greece and Rome,
Greece (as in war) by Rome was overcome;
Though mighty raptures we in Homer find,
Yet, like himself, his characters were blind;
Virgil's sublimedeyes not only gaz'd,
But his sublimed thoughts to Heaven were
rais'd.
Who reads the honours which he paid the gods,
Would think he had beheld their blest abodes;
And that his hero might accomplish’d be,
From divine blood he draws his pedigree.
From that great judge your judgment takes its
law,

And by the best original does draw
Bonduca’s honour, with those heroes Time
Had in oblivion wrapt, his saucy crime;
To them and to your nation you are just,
In raising up their glories from the dust;
And to Old England you that right have done
To show, no story nobler than her own.

ELEGP O.W." THE DEATH OF HEvrr Lond Hastings, 1650.

Reader, preserve thy peace; those busy eyes
Will weep at their own sad discoveries;
When every line they add improves thy loss,
Till having view'd the whole, they sum a
cross;
Such as derides thy passions' best relief,
And scorms the succours of thy easy grief.
Yet, lest thy ignorance betray thy name:
Ofman and pious, read and mourn: the shame
Of an exemption, from just sense, doth show
Irrational, beyond excess of woe.
Since reason, then, can privilege a tear,
Manhood, uncensur'd, pay that tribute here,
Upon this noble urn. Here, here, remains
Dust far more precious than in India's veins:
Within these cold embraces, ravish'd, lies
That which compleats the age's tyrannies:
Who weak to such another ill appear,
For what destroys our hope, secures our fear.
What sin unexpiated, in this land
Of groans, hath guided so severe a hand
The late great victim * that your altars knew,
Ye angry gods, might have excus’d this new
Oblation, and have spar'd one lofty light
Of virtue, to inform our steps aright;
By whose example good, condemned, we
Might have run on to kinder destiny.
But as the leader of the herd fell first
A sacrifice, to quench the raging thirst
Of inflam'd vengeance for past crimes; so none
But this white-fatted youngling cou’d atone,
By his untimely fate; that impious smoke,
Thatsullied Earth, and did Heaven's pity choke.

* King Charles the First.

Let it suffice for us, that we have lost

Thus the constitution In him more than the widow’d world can boast

Condemns them every one,

In any lump of her remaining clay. From the father to the son.
Fair as the grey ey'd Morn he was ; the day, But Joh
Youthful, and climbing upwards still, imparts Ou . d n Moll
No haste like that of his increasing parts; |. r o ) M . eson
Like the meridian beam, his virtue's light W. us to have out-gone
Was seen, as full of comfort and as bright. ith a quaint invention.
Had his moon been as fix’d as clear—but he, Like the prophets of yore,
That only wanted immortality He complain'd long before,

To make him perfect, now submits to night,
In the black bosom of whose sable spite,
He leaves a cloud of flesh behind, and flies, -
Refin'd, all ray and glory, to the skies. And with that wicked lye,
Great saint shine there in an eternal sphere, A letter they came by
and tell those powers to whom thou now draw'st || From our king's majesty.

Of the mischiefs in store,
Ay, and thrice as much more.

That b near, bl H [dead, But Fate
at by our trembling sense, in Hastings -
Their anger and our ugly faults are read; o, . .* late,
The short lines of whose life did to our eyes To relieve their damn'd stat
Their love and majesty epitomize: n’d state.

Tell them, whose stern degrees impose our laws, The letter's to be seen,
The feasted Grave may close her hollowjaws:
Though Sin search Nature, to provide her here At Dantzige where 't has been
A second entertainment half so dear, Turn'd into good Latin.
She'll never meet a plenty like this hearse,
Till Time present her with the universe. But he that gave the hint
This letter for to print,
Must also pay his stint.

on My LoRD croft’s AND MY Journey INTo Poland, That trick,
From whence we brought 10,000l. Fon his Had it comein the nick,
Majesty, by Tha Pecimation of his scorish | Had touch'd us to the quick,

With seal of wax so green,

subjects. There. But the messenger fell sick.

Tole, tole, Had it later been wrote,
Gentlebell, for the soul And sooner been brought,
Of the pure ones in Pole, They had got what they sought,
Which are damn'd in our scroul. But now it serves for nought.
Who having felt atouch

On Sandys they ran aground, Of Cockram's greedy clutch, And our return was crown'd

Which though it was not much, With full ten thousand pound.
Yet their stubborness was such,
That when we did arrive,
'Gainst the stream we did strive;

They would neither lead nor drive: on MR. Tho. Killichew's RETURN from vesics,
Nor lend AND MR. william MURRey’s FRom scorlaxt,
orien
An ear to a friend, Our resident Tom,
Noran answer would send From Venice is come,
To our letter so well penn'd. And hath left the statesman behind him:
Nor assist our affairs Talks at the same pitch,
With their monies nor their wares Is as wise, is as rich;
A.o: o:w declares, > And just where you left him, you find him.
But only with their prayers. But who says he was not
Thus they did persist A man of much plot,
Did and 3. .. they list, May repent that false accusation;
Till the diet was dismist; o: plotted and penn'd
But them our breech they kist. ix plays, to attend
The farce of his negotiation.
For when
It was mov’d there and then Before you were told
They should pay one in ten, How Satan the old ..
The diet said, Amen. Came here with a beard to his middle;
Though he chang'd face and e
And because they are loth g g name,

Old Will was the same,

To discover the troth, At the noise of a can and a fiddle.

They must give word and oath,

Though they will forfeit both. * Mr. W. Murrey,

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