« ՆախորդըՇարունակել »
At a VACATION EXERCISE in the COLLEGE, part Latin,
part English. The Latin speeches ended, the Eng. lish thus begun.
Hail, native Language, that by sinews weak
Didst move my first endeavouring tongue to speak,
And mad'st imperfect words with childish trips,
Half unpronounc'd, slide through my infant-lips,
Driving dumb Silence from the portal door,
Where he had mutely sat two years before :
Here I salute thee, and thy pardon ask,
That now I use thee in my latter task:
Small loss it is that thence can come unto thee,
I know my tongue but little grace can do thee:
Thou need'st not be ambitious to be first,
Believe me I have thither pack'd the worst :
And, if it happen as I did fosecast,
The daintiest dishes shall be serv'd up last.
I pray thee then deny me not thy aid
For this same small neglect that I have made :
But haste thee straight to do me once a pleasure,
And from thy wardrobe bring thy chiefest treasure,
Not those new-fangled toys, and trimming slight, Which takes our late fantastics with delight; But cull those richest robes, and gay’st attire, Which deepest spirits and choicest wits desire. I have some naked thoughts that rove about, And loudly knock to have their passage out; And, weary of their place, do only stay, Till thou hast deck'd them in thy best array; That so they may, without suspect or fears, Fly swiftly to this fair assembly's ears; Yet I had rather, if I were to choose, Thy service in some graver subject use, Such as may make thee search thy coffers round, Before thou clothe my fancy in fit sound : Such where the deep transported mind may soar Above the wheeling poles, and at Heaven's door Look in, and see each blissful deity How he before the thundrous throne doth lie, Listening to what unshorn Apollo sings To' the touch of golden wires, while Hebe brings Immortal nectar to her kingly sire: Then passing through the spheres of watchful fire, And misty regions of wide air next under, And hills of snow, and lofts of piled thunder, May tell at length how green-ey'd Neptune raves, In Heaven's defiance mustering all his waves ; Then sing of secret things that came to pass When beldam Nature in her cradle was; And last of kings, and queens, and heroes old, Such as the wise Demodocus once told In solemn songs at king Alcinus' feast, While sad Ulysses' soul, and all the rest, Are held, with his melodious harmony, In willing chains and sweet captivity,
But fie, my wandering Muse, how thou dost stray!
Expectance calls thee now another way:
Thou know'st it must be now thy only bent
To keep in compass' of thy predicament:
Then quick about thy purpos'd business come,
That to the next I may resign my room.
Then Ens is represented as father of the PREDICA
MENTS his two sons, whereof the eldest stood for SubSTANCE with his canons ; which Ers, thus speaking, explains.
Good luck befriend thee, Son; for, at thy birth,
The faery ladies danc'd upon the hearth;
Thy drowsy nurse hath sworn she did them spy
Come tripping to the room where thou didst lie,
And, sweetly singing round about thy bed,
Strew all their blessings on thy sleeping head.
She heard them give thee this, that thou shouldst
From eyes of mortals walk invisible :
Yet there is something that doth force my fear;
For once it was my dismal hap to hear
A Sibyl old, bow-bent with crooked age,
That far events full wisely could presage,
And, in time's long and dark perspective glass,
Foresaw what future days should bring to pass ;
*Your son,' said she, ‘(nor can you it prevent)
Shall subject be'to many an Accident.
O’er all his brethren he shall reign as king,
Yet every one shall make him underling;
And those, that cannot live from him asunder,
Ungratefully shall strive to keep him under;
In worth and excellence he shall out-go them,
Yet, being above them, he shall be below them;
From others he shall stand in need of nothing,
Yet on his brothers shall depend for clothing.
To find a foe it shall not be his hap,
And Peace shall lull him in her flowery lap;
Yet shall he live in strife, and at his door
Devouring War shall never cease to roar:
Yea, it shall be his natural property
To harbour those that are at enmity.
What power, what force, what mighty spell, if not
Your learned hands can loose this Gordian knot?
The next QUANTITY and QUALITY spake in prose;
then RELATION was called by his name.
RIVERs, arise; whether thou be the son
Of utmost Tweed, or Oose, or gulfy Dun,
Or Trent, who, like some earth-born giant, spreads
Hist thirty arms along the indented meads;
Or sullen Mole, that runneth underneath ;
Or Severn swift, guilty of maiden's death ;
Or rocky Avon, or of sedgy Lee,
Or coaly Tine, or ancient hallow'd Dee;
Or Humber loud, that keeps the Scythian's name;
Or Medway smooth, or royal-tower'd Thame.*
[The rest was prose.]
* It his hard to say, in what sense, or in what manner, this introduction of the rivers was to be applied to the subject. Warton.
ON THE ADMIRABLE DRAMATIC POET,
What needs my Shakspeare, for his honour'd bones,
The labour of an age in piled stones?
Or that his hallow'd reliques should be hid
Under a star-ypointing pyramid ?
Dear son of memory, great heir of fame,
What need'st thou such weak witness of thy name?
Thou, in our wonder and astonishment,
Hast built thyself a live-long monument.
For whilst, to the shame of slow endeavouring art,
Thy easy numbers flow; and that each heart
Hath, from the leaves of thy unvalued book,
Those Delphic lines with deep impression took ;
Then thou, our fancy of itself bereaving,
Dost make us marble with too much conceiving;
And, so sepulchred, in such pomp dost lie,
That kings, for such a tomb, would wish to die.
Who sickened in the time of his vacancy; being forbid
to go to London, by reason of the plaguet. HEHE lies old Hobson; Death hath broke his girt, And here, alas! hath laid him in the dirt;
This Epitaph is dated 1630, in Milton's own edition of his poems in 1673.
+ Hobson, the Cambridge carrier, died Jan. 1, 1630, while the plegue was in London.