Obrazy na stronie
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Rouz'd from my bed, I speedily ascend Nor only on the Trojans fell this doom,
The houses' tops, and listening there attend. Their hearts at last the vanquish'd re-assume;
As flames rolld by the winds' conspiring force, And now the victors fall: on all sides fears,
O'er full-eardcorn, or torrents' raging course Groans and pale Death in all her shapes appears :
Bears down th' opposing oaks, the fields destroys, Androgeus first with his whole troop was cast
And mocks the plough-man's toil, th’ unlook'd Upon us, with civility misplac'd ;
for noise

Thus greeting us, “ You lose by your delay, From neighbouring hills th' amazed shepherd Your share both of the honour and the prey; hears;

Others the spoils of burning Troy convey Such my surprise, and such their rage appears. Back to those ships which you but now forsake. First fell thy house, Ucalegon, then thine We making no return, his sad mistake Deiphobus, Sigæan seas did shine

Too late he finds: as when an unseen snake Bright with Troy's flames; the trumpets dreadful A traveller's unwary fuot hath prest, sound

Who trembling starts when the snake's azure The louder groans of dying men confound; Swoln with his rising anger, he espies, (crest, "Give me my arms," I cry'd, resolv'd to throw So from our view surpriz'd Andrógeus flies. Myself'mong any that oppos'd the foe :

But here an easy victory we meet : [feet. Rage, anger, and despair at once suggest, Fear binds their hands, and ignorance their That of all deaths to die in arms was best. Whilst fortune our first enterprize did aid, The first I met was Pantheus, Phoebus' priest, Encourag'd with snccess, Chorcebus said, Who, 'scaping with his gods and reliques, fled, "O friends we now by better Fates are led, And towards the shore his little grandchild led. And the fair path they lead us, let us tread. " Pantheus, what hope remains ? what force, First change your arms, and their distinctions what place

The same, in foes, deceit and virtue are."[bear ; Made good ?” but sighing, he replies, “ Alas! Then of his arms Androgeus he divests, Trojans we were, and mighty Ilium was; His sword, bis shield he takes, and plumed crests, But the last period, and the fatal hour

Then Ripheus, Dymas, and the rest, all glad Of Troy is come: our glory and our power Of the occasion, in fresh spoils are clad. Incensed Jove's transfers to Grecian hands; Thus mixt with Greeks, as if their fortune still The foe within the burning town commands; Follow'd their swords, we fight, pursue, and kill. And (like a smother'd fire) an unseen force Some re-ascend the horse, and he whose sides Breaks from the bowels of the fatal horse : Let forth the valiant, now the coward hides. Insulting Sinon flings about the flame,

Some to their safer guard, their ships, retite; And thousands more than e'er from Argos came But vain's that hope, 'gainst which the gods conPossess the gates, the passes, and the streets, | Behold the royal virgin, the divine [spire: And these the sword o'ertakes, and those it meets. Cassandra, from Minerva's fatal shrine (vain, The guard nor fights, nor flies; their fate so Dragg'd by the hair, casting towards heaven, in near

Her eyes; for cords her tender hands did strain ; At onee suspends their courage and their fear.” Chorobus, at the spectacle enrag'a Thus by the gods, and by Atrides' words Flies in amidst the foes: we tbus engag'd, Inspir'd, 1 make my way through fire, through To second him, among the thickest ran; swords,

Here first our ruin from our friends began, Where noises, tumults, outcries, and alarms, Who from the temple's battlements a shower I heard. First Iphitus, renown'd for arms, Of darts and arrows on our beads did pour ; We meet, who knew us (for the Moon did shine); They us for Greeks, and now the Greeks (who Then Ripheus, Hypanis, and Dymas join Cassandra's rescue) us for Trojans slew. [knew Their force, and young Choræbus, Mygdon's Then from all parts Ulysses, Ajax ther, Who, by the love of fair Cassandra, won, (son, | And then the Atridæ, rally all their men; Arriv'd but lately in her father's aid;

As winds, that meet from sereral coasts, contest, Unhappy, whom the threats could not dissuade Their prisons being broke, the south and west, Of his prophetic spouse;

And Eurus on bis winged coursers borne, Whom when I saw yet daring to maintain Triumphing in their speed, the woods are torn, The fight, I said, “ Brave spirits (but in vain) And chasing Nereus with his trident throws Are you resolvid to follow one who dares The billows frm the bottom; then all those Tempt all extremes; the state of our affairs Who in the dark our fury did escape, You see : the gods have left us, by whose aid Returning, know our borrow'd arms, and shape, Our empire stood, nor can the flame be staid : And different dialect : then their numbers swell Then let us fall amidst our foes; this one And grow upon us. First Chorcebus fell Relief the vanquish'd have, to hope for none." Before Minerva's altar, next did bleed Then reinforc'd, as in a stormy night

Just Ripheus, whom no 'Trojan did exceed Welves urged by their raging appetite

In virtue, yet the gods his fate decreed. Forage for prey, which their neglected young Then Hypanis and Dymas, wounded by With greedy jaws expect, ev'n so among Their friends ; nor thee, Pantheus, thy piety, Foes, fire, and swords, t' assured death we pass, Nor consecrated mitre, from the same Darkness our guide, Despair our leader was. Il fate could save; my country's funeral flame Who can relate that evening's woes and spoils, And Troy's cold ashes I attest, and call Or can his tears proportion to our toils? To witness for myself, that in their fall The city, which so long had flourishd, falls ; No foes, no death, nor danger, I declin'd, Death triumphs o'er the houses, temples, walls. Did, and deserv'd no less, iny fate to find.

VOL. VIL

R

Now Iphitus with me, and Pelias

And now between two sad extremes I stood, Slowly retire ; the one retarded was

Here Pyrrhus and th’ Atridæ drunk with blood, By feeble age, the other by a wound.

There th' hapless queen amongst an hundred To court the cry directs us, where we found

dames, Th' assault so hot, as if 'twere only there, And Priam quenching from his wounds those And all the rest secure from foes or fear :

flames The Greeks the gates approach'd, their targets Which his own hands had on the altar laid ; cast

Then they the secret cabinets invade, Over their heads; some scaling ladders plac'd Where stood the fifty nuptial beds, the hopes Against the walls, the rest the steps ascend, Of that great race; the golden posts,whose tops And with their shields on their left arms defend Old hostile spoils adorn'd, deinolish'd lay, Arrows and darts, and with their right hold fast Or to the foe, or to the fire a prey. The battlement; on them the Trojans cast Now Priam's fate perhaps you may inqnire : Stones, rafters, pillars, beams; such arins as Seeing his empire lost, his Troy on fire, these,

And his own palace by the Greeks possest, Now hopeless, for their last defence they seize. Arms long disus'd his trembling limbs invest; The gilded roofs, the marks of ancient state, Thus on his foes he throws himself alone, They tumble down ; and now against the gate Not for their fate, but to provoke his own : Of th' inner court their growing force they There stood an altar open to the view bring :

Of Heaven, near which an aged laurel grew, Now was our last effort to save the king,

Whose shady arms the household gods embrac'd; Relieve the fainting, and succeed the dead, Before whose feet the queen herself had cast A private gallery 'twixt th' apartments led, With all her daughters, and the Trojan wives, Not to the foe yet known, or not observ'd, As doves whom an approaching tempest drives (The way for Hector's hapless wife reserv'd, And frights into one fock; but having spy'd When to the aged king, her little son [run Old Priam clad in youthful arm, she cried, She would present) through this we pass, and Alas, my wretched husband, what pretence Up to the highest battlement, from whence To bear those arms, and in them what defence ? The Trojans threw their darts without offence, Such aid such times require not, when again A tower so high, it seem'd to reach the sky, If Hector were alive, he liv'd in vain ; Stood on the roof, from whence we could descry Or here weshall a sanctuary find, All Ilium-both the camps, the Grecian fleet; Or as in life we shalt in death be join'd." This, where the beams upon the columns meet, Then weeping, with kind force held and embrac'd, We loosen, which like thunder from the cloud And on the secret seat the king she plac'd. Breaks on their heads, as sudden and as loud. Meantime Polites, one of Priam's sons, But others still succeed : meantime, nor stones Flying the rage of bloody Pyrrhus, runs Nor any kind of weapons cease.

Through foes and swords, and ranges all the court, Before the gate in gilded armour shone (grown, And empty galleries, amaz'd and hurt ; Young Pyrrhus, like a snake, his skin new Pyrrhus pursues him, now o'ertakes, now kills, Who fed on poisonous herbs, all winter lay And his last blood in Priam's presence spills. Under the ground, and now reviews the day The king (though him so many deaths enclose) Fresh in his new apparel, proud and young, Nor fear, nor grief, but indignation shows; Rolls up his back, and brandishes his tongue, “ The gods requite thee, (if

within the care And lifts his scaly breast against the Sun; Of those above th' affairs of mortals are) With him his father's squire, Automedon, Whose fury on the son but lost had been, And Peripas, who drove his winged steeds, Had not his parents' eyes his murder seen: Enter the court; whom all the youth succeeds Not that Achilles (whom thou feign'st to be Of Scyros' isle, who flaming firebrands fung Thy father) so inhuman was to me; Up to the roof; Pyrrhus himself among He blusht, when I the rights of arms implor'd; The foremost with an axe an entrance hews To me my Hector, me to Troy restord:” Through beams of solid oak, then freely views This said, his feeble arm a javelin flung, The chambers, galleries, and rooms of state, Which on the sounding shield, scarce entering Where Priam and the ancient monarchs sat.

Tung. At the first gate an armed guard appears ; Then Pyrrhus; “ Go a messenger to Hell But th' inner court with horrour, noise, and tears, of my black deeds, and to my father tell Confus'dly fill'd, the women's shrieks and cries The acts of his degenerate race." So through 'The arch'd vaults re-echo to the skies;

His son's warm blood the trembling king he. Sad matrons wandering through the spacious, drew rooms

To th’altar; in his hair one hand he wreaths; Embrace and kiss the posts : then Pyrrhus comes His sword the other in his bosom sheaths. Full of his father, neither men nor walls

Thus fell the king, who yet survivd the state, His force sustain, the torn portcullis falls, With such a signal and peculiar fate, Then from the hinge their strokes the gates di- Under so vast a ruin, not a grave, vorce,

Nor in such flames a funeral fire to have: And where the way they cannot find, they force. He whom such titles swell'd, such power made Not with such rage a swelling torrent flows

proud, Above his banks, th' opposing dams o'erthrows, To whom the sceptres of all Asia bow'd, Depopulates the fields, the cattle, sheep, On the cold earth lics th' unregarded king, Shepherds and folds, the foaming surges sweep. A headless carcase, and a nameless thing.

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

Since man to that perfection cannot rise,
ON THE EARL OF STRAFFORD'S Of always virtuous, fortunate, and wise;

Therefore the patterns man should imitate
TRIAL AND DEATH.

Above the life our masters should create.

Herein, if we consult with Greece and Rome, Great Strafford ! worthy of that name, though Greece (as in war) by Rome was overcome; all

Though mighty raptures we in Homer find, Of thee could be forgotten, but thy fall, | Yet, like himself, his characters were blind; Crush'd by imaginary treason's weight,

Virgil's sublimed eyes not only gaz'd, Which too much merit did accumulate:

But bis sublimed thoughts to Heaven were As chymists gold from brass by fire would draw,

rais'd. Pretexts are into treason forg'd by law.

Who reads the honours which he paid the gods, His wisdom such, at once it did appear

Would think he had beheld their blest abodes; Three kingdoms' wonder, and three kingdoms' | And that his hero might accomplish'd be, fear ;

From divine blood he draws his pedigree. While single he stood forth, and seem'd, although From that great judge your judgment takes its Each had an army, as an equal foe.

law, Such was his force of eloquence, to make

And by the best original does draw The hearers more conceru'd than he that spake; Bonduca's honour, with those heroes Time Each seem'd to act that part he came to see, Had in oblivion wrapt, his saucy crime ; And none was more a looker-on than he ; To them and to your nation you are just, So did he move our passions, some were known In raising up their glories from the dust; To wish, for the defence, the crime their own. And to Old England you that right have done Now private pity strove with public hate, | To show, no story nobler than her own. 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 nick-name

bore,
Than such a fear'd ability for more.

ELEGY ON THE DEATH OF
They after death their fears of him express,
His innoeence and their own guilt confess.

HENRY LORD HASTINGS, 1650.
Their legislative frenzy they repent : :
Enacting it should make no precedent. [lose | READER, preserve thy peace; those busy eyes
This fate he could have 'scap'd, but would not Will weep at their own sad discoveries;
Honour for life, but rather nobly chose

When every line they add improves thy loss, Death from their fears, than safety from his

Till having view'd the whole, they sum a own,

cross; That his last action all the rest might crown. Such as derides thy passions' best relief,

And scorns the succours of thy easy grief. | Yet, lest thy ignorance betray thy name

Of man and pious, read and mourn : the shame TO A PERSON OF HONOUR,

| Of an exemption, from just sense, dotb show

| Irrational, beyond excess of woe. ON HIS INCOMPARABLE POEM7.

Since reason, then, can privilege a tear, Weat mighty gale hath rais'd a flight so strong?

Manhood, uncensurd, pay that tribute bere,

U pon this noble urn. Here, here, remains So high above all vulgar eyes ! so long ?

Dust far more precious than in India's veins : One single rapture scarce itself confines

Within these cold embraces, ravish’d, lies Within the limits of four thousand lines :

That which compleats the age's tyrannies : And yet I hope to see this noble heat

Who weak to such another ill appear, Continue, till it makes the piece complete,

For what destroys our hope, secures our fear, That to the latter age it may descend,

What sin unexpiate1, in this land And to the end of time its beams extend.

Of groans, hath guided so severe a hand ? ' When Poesy joins profit with delight,

The late great victim ? that your altars knew, Her images should be most exquisite,

Ye angry gods, might have excus'd this new

Oblation, and have spar'd one lofty light 1 The honourable Edward Howard, by his

Of virtue, to inform our steps aright ; poem called The British Princes, engaged the

By whose example good, condemned, wė attention of by far the most eminent of his con

Might have run on to kinder destiny. temporaries; who played upon his vanity, as

But as the leader of the herd fell first the wits of half a century before had done on

A sacrifice, to quench the raging thirst that of Thomas Coryat, by writing extravagant

Of inflam'd vengeance for past crimes ; so none compliments on his works. See Butler's, Wal

But this white-fatted youngling cou'd atone, ler's, Sprat's, and Dorset's verses, in their respec

By his untimely fate; that impious smoke, tive volumes; and in the Select Collection of

That sullied Earth, and did Heaven's pity choke. Miscellaneous Poems, 1780, vol. III. p. 105, are other verses on the same subject, by Marton Clifford, and the lord Vaughan. N.

a 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 John Youthful, and climbing upwards still, imparts

(Our friend) Molleson No haste like that of his increasing parts;

Thought us to have out-gone
Like the meridian beam, his virtue's light

With a quaint invention.
Was seen, as full of comfort and as bright.
Had his noon 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, Of the mischiefs in store,
In the black bosom of whose sable spite,

Ay, and thrice as much more.
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.
near,

[dead,

But Fate That by our trembling sense, in HASTINGS

Brought the letter too late, Their anger and our ugly faults are read;

'Twas of too old a date The short lines of whose life did to our eyes

To relieve their damn'd state,
Their love and majesty epitomize:
Tell them, whose stern degrees impuse our laws, The letter's to be seen,
The feasted Grave may close her hollow jaws: With seal of wax so green,
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,

PROM WHENCE WE BROUGHT 10,000). FOR HIS Had it come in the nick,
MAJESTY, BY THE DECIMATION OF HIS SCOTISH Had touch'd us to the quick,
SUBJECTS THERE.

But the messenger fell sick.
Tole, tole,

Had it later been wrote,
Gentle bell, 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 scrou).

But now it serves for nought. Who having felt a touch

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. KILLIGREW'S RETURN FROM VENICI,

AND MR. WILLIAM MURREY'S FROM SCOTLAND. Nor lend An ear to a friend,

Our resident Tom, Nor an answer would send

From Venice is come, To our letter so well penn'd.

And hath left the statesman behind him:

Talks at the same pitch, Nor assist our affairs

Is as wise, is as rich; With their monies nor their wares,

And just where you left him, you find him. As their answer now declares, But only with their prayers.

But who says he was not Thus they did persist

A man of much plot, Did and said what they list,

May repent that false accusation; Till the diet was dismist;

Having plotted and penn'd But then our breech they kist.

Six 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 3 the old The diet said, Amen.

Came here with a beard to his middle;

Though he chang'd face and name, And because they are loth

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.

3 Mr. W. Murrey,

These statesmen, you believe,

| Nor did he like the omen, Send straight for the shrieve,

For fear it might be his doom For he is one too, or would be;

One day for to sing, But he drinks no wine,

With a gullet in string, Which is a shrewd sign

-A hymn of Robert Wisdom. That all 's not so well as it should be.

But what was all this business? These three, when they drink,

For sure it was important : How little do they think

For who rides i'th' wet Of banishment, debts, or dying:

When affairs are not great,
Not old with their years,

The neighbours make but a sport on't.
Nor cold with their fears;
But their angry stars still defying.

To a goodly fat sow's baby,

O John, thou hadst a malice, Mirth makes them not mad,

The old driver of swine Nor sobriety sad;

That day sure was thine, But of that they are seldom in danger;

Or thou hadst not quitted Calais, At Paris, at Rome,

At the Hague, they 're at home; The good fellow is no where a stranger.

NATURA NATURATA,

[graphic]

TO SIR JOHN MENNIS,
BEING INVITED FROM CALAIS TO BOLOGNE TO

EAT A PIG.

All on a weeping Monday,
With a fat Bulgarian sloven,

Little admiral John

To Bologne is gone.
Whom I think they call Old Loven.
Hadst thou not thy fill of carting,
Will Aubrey, count of Oxon,

When nose lay in breech,

And breech made a speech,
So often cry'd A pox on?
A knight by land and water
Esteem'd at such a bigh rate,

When 'tis told in Kent,

In a cart that he went,
They'll say now, Hang him pirate.

What gives us that fantastic fit,
That all our judgment and our wit
To vulgar custom we submit?
Treason, theft, murder, and all the rest
Of that foul legion we so detest,
Are in their proper names exprest,
Why is it then thought sin or shame,
Those necessary parts to name;
From whence we went, and whence we came?
Nature, whate'er she wants, requires;
With love inflaming our desires,
Finds engines fit to quench those fires :
Death she abhors; yet when men die
We 're present; but no stander-by
Looks on when we that loss supply.
Forbidden wares sell twice as dear;
Ev'n sack prohibited last year,
A most abominable rate did bear.
'Tis plain our eyes and ears are nice,
Only to raise, by that device,
Of those commodities the price,
Thus Reason's shadows us betray,
By tropes and figures led astray,
From Nature, both her guide and way,

Thou might'st have ta'en example,
From what thou read'st in story;

Being as worthy to sit

On an ambling tit
As thy predecessor Dory.
But ob ! the roof of linen,
Intended for a shelter !

But the rain made an ass

Of tilt and canvass;
And the snow, which you know is a melter.
But with thee to inveigle
That tender stripling Astcot,

Who was soak’d to the skin,

Through drugget so thin, Having neither coat nor waistcoat,

SARPEDONS SPEECH TO GLAUCUS,

IN THE TWELFTH BOOK OF HOMER.

Thus to Glaucus spake
Divine Sarpedon, since he did not find
Others, as great in place, as great in mind.
Above the rest why is our pomp, our power.
Our flock, our herds, and our possessions more
Why all the tributes land and sea affords
Heap'd in great chargers, load our sumptuous

boards ?
Our cheerful guests carouse the sparkling tears
Of the rich grape, whilst music charms their

ears

He being proudly mounted,
Clad in cloak of Plymouth,

Defy'd cart so base,

For thief without grace, That goes to make a wry mouth,

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