IX. To Sir WILLIAM DAVENANT: Upon his two firft Books of GONDIBERT, finished before his Voyage to America. M ETHINKS, heroic poefy, till now, Like fome fantastic fairy-land, did fhow; And from the grave thou mak'st this empire rife, So [f] So will-yet the fame.] It is pleasant to fee how the wits catch their ideas from each other. Mr. Pope, in a letter of compliment to a friend, who had done much honour to his Essay on Man, expreffes himfelf So god-like poets do past things rehearse, Not change, but heighten, nature by their verfe. Some men their fancies, like their faith, derive [g], To the fame chair would truth and fiction bind. Since time does all things change, thou think'st not fit. This latter age should see all new, but wit. Thy fancy, like a flame, its way does make, himself in these words- "It is indeed the fame fyf"tem as mine, but illuftrated with a ray of your ་་ own; as they fay our natural body is the fame fill, "when it is glorified." Works, vol. ix. Letter xcvii. [g] Some men their fancies, like their faith, derive,] Thus wit, like faith, by each man is apply'd "To one small fect, and all are damn'd befide." Effay on Crit. ver. 396. 64 [b] -new worlds] This alludes to Sir William's project of a fettlement at Virginia, which, however, had no better fuccefs than the poetical project, which his friend here celebrates. X. On X. On the Death of Mr. CRASH AW. OET and Saint! to thee alone are given POET The two moft facred names of earth and heaven; The hard and rareft union, which can be, Next that of Godhead with humanity. Long did the Muses, banish'd flaves abide, Like Mofes thou (though fpells and charms withftand) Haft brought them nobly home back to their Holy Land. Ah wretched we, poets of earth! but thou Wert, living, the fame poet, which thou'rt now. And joy in an applause so great as thine, Thou need'ft not make new fongs, but fay the old. And though Pan's death. [i] long fince all oracles broke, Yet ftill in rhyme the fiend Apollo spoke Nay, [i]-Pan's death] Alluding to the famous flory in Plutarch's Dialogue concerning the flence of the pa Nay, with the worft of heathen dotage, we Thy spotless Mufe, like Mary, did contain And for a facred miftrefs fcorn'd to take, But her, whom God himself scorn'd not his spouse to make. It (in a kind) her miracle did do; A fruitful mother was, and virgin too. How well (bleft fwan) did fate contrive thy death [k]; And made thee render up thy tuneful breath gan oracles, and the use made of that story by Eusebius and others; whence it became the general opinion of the learned, in our author's days, that, by the death of the GREAT PAN, was meant the crucifixion of our Saviour. [k] Mr. Crafhaw died of a fever at Loretto, being newly chofen canon of that church. CowLEY. "Tis 'Tis furer much, they brought thee there; and they, When join'd with fo much piety as his. Ah, mighty God, with shame I speak't, and grief, So far at least, great faint, to pray to thee. Hail, bard triumphant [m]! and some care bestow On us, the poets militant below! Oppos'd by our old enemy, adverse chance, Attack'd by envy, and by ignorance, Expos'd by tyrant-love to favage beafts and fires. [] Hence the famous lines of Mr. Pope, which have given fuch fcandal to fome, and triumph to others, only because both parties have been more in hafte to apply than understand them "For modes of faith let graceless zealots fight, "His can't be wrong, whofe life is in the right." [m] Hail, bard triumphant !] Hence the apoftrophe of Mr. Pope, but not fo happily applied, as here "Hail, bards triumphant, born in happier days!" Effay on Crit. ver. 189. Elifha |