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"O see, Constantia ! my short race is run;
As soon as he had spoke these words, life fled
A star that's fall'n, or an eclipsed sun.
Philocrates, when he saw this, did cry, "Friend, I'll revenge, or bear thee company! "Just Jove hath sent me to revenge his fate; Nay, stay, Guisardo, think not Heaven in jest: 'Tis vain to hope flight can secure thy state." Then thrust his sword into the villain's breast.
"Here," said Philocrates, "thy life I send A sacrifice, t' appease my slaughter'd friend." But, as he fell, "Take this reward," said he, "For thy new victory." With that he flung His darted rapier at his enemy, Which hit his head, and in his brain-pan hung. With that he falls, but, lifting up his eyes, "Farewell, Constantia!" that word said, he dies.
THE TRAGICAL HISTORY OF
I'll follow thee, and not thy loss deplore;
"It shall not sure be said that thou didst die,
Then piercing her sad breast, "I come!" she
To oorpass; which I most gladly do, for fear
TO THE RIGHT WORSHIPFUL, MY VERY LOVING MASTER
MR. LAMBERT OSBOLSTON,
CHIEF SCHOOL-MASTER OF WESTMINSTER SCHOOL.
My childish Muse is in her spring, and yet
How soon will they grow fruit! how fresh appear!
PYRAMUŞ AND THISBE.
What shall she do? She to her brother runs,
The queen of love less lovely was than she :
"My dear Philocrates!" she, weeping, cries,
But Venus, envying they so fair should be,
But could he see, he had not wrought their smart
Then to Elysium's mansions both shall fly,
Though he nor her's, nor she his face could see,
Of odoriferous breath; no other sport
Was first ordain'd by Jupiter above,
That nought but angry Death can them remove;
And though he part them, yet they'll meet above."
Abortive tears from their fair eyes out-flow'd, And damm'd the lovely splendour of their sight, Which seem'd like Titan, whilst some watery cloud O'erspreads his face, and his bright beams doth shroud;
Till Vesper chas'd away the conquer'd light, And forced them (though loth) to bid goodnight.
But ere Aurora, usher to the day,
With many a sigh and many a speaking tear;
Upon ourselves? for beauty, though it shine Like day, will quickly find an evening-time. "Therefore, sweet Thisbe, let us meet this night At Ninus' tomb, without the city wall, Under the mulberry-tree, with berries white Abounding, there t' enjoy our wish'd delight.
For mounting love, stopt in its course, doth fall, And long'd-for, yet untasted, joy kills all. "What though our cruel parents angry be? What though our friends, alas! are too unkind, Time, that now offers, quickly may deny, And soon hold back fit opportunity.
Who lets slip Fortune, her shall never find; Occasion, once pass'd by, is bald behind." She soon agreed to that which he requir'd, For little wooing needs, where both consent; What he so long had pleaded, she desir'd: Which Venus seeing,with blind Chance conspir'd, And many a charming accent to her sent, That she (at last) would frustrate their intent. Thus Beauty is by Beauty's means undone, Striving to close those eyes that make her bright; Just like the Moon, which seeks t' eclipse the Sun, Whence all her splendor, all her beams, do come:
So she, who fetcheth lustre from their sight, Doth purpose to destroy their glorious light. Unto the mulberry-tree fair Thisbe care; Where having rested long, at last she 'gan Against her Pyramus for to exclaim, Whilst various thoughts turmoil her troubled brain: And, imitating thus the silver swan, A little while before her death, she sang:
COME, love! why stayest thou? the night
HERE doubtful thoughts broke off her pleasant
And for her lover's stay sent many a sigh;
Numberless thoughts, which on her heart did
But fear expels all reasons; she doth run
For, could the senseless beast her face destry,
The night half wasted, Pyramus did come;
Since she is dead, whose beauty doth exceed
Unto thy constant love, to which 'tis paid:
Of cool Elysium; where we, being met,
With which th' unspotted berries stained were, And ever since with red they colour'd are.
At last fair Thisbe left the den, for fear
From white to black, she knew not certainly
With what delight from the dark cave she came,
She tears her golden hair, and beats her breast,
She blames all-powerful Jove; and strives to take
His parting soul with mournful words; his wound Washes with tears, that her sweet speech confound.
But afterwards, recovering breath, said she,
Tell Thisbe what hath caus'd this tragedy!"
And on his love he rais'd his dying head:
She vows that with her Pyramus she 'll go :
In endless joys, and never fear the ill
Of grudging friends!"-Then she herself did kill. To tell what grief their parents did sustain, Were more than my rude quill can overcome; Much did they weep and grieve, but all in vain, For weeping calls not back the dead again.
Both in one grave were laid, when life was done; And these few words were writ upon the tomb:
UNDERNEATH this marble stone,
Lie two beauties join'd in one.
Two, whose loves deaths could not sever;
7 From the Enn▲1a, sive Musarum Cantabrigiensium Consentus et Congratulatio, ad serenissimum Britanniarum Regem Carolum, de quinta sua sobole [Princess Anne], clarissima Principe, sibi nuper felicissimmè nata. Cantabrigiæ, 1637. I doubt not but it will prove a pleasing amusement to the curious reader, to trace the first dawnings of genius in some of our first-rate poetic characters; and to compare them with the eminence they afterwards attained to, and the rank they at last held among their brethren of the laurel. Some early specimens of Dryden's genius may be seen in the first volume of his poems. Those of Cowley, here printed, abound with strokes of wit, some true, but the far greater part false; which thoroughly characterise the writer, and may be justly pronounced to point out his genius and manner, in miniature. K.—This species of entertainment the kind attention of Mr. Kynaston (the friend to whom I owe these remarks) enables me considerably to extend, by furnishing the earliest poetical productions of some writers who are now universally looked up to as excellent; none of which are to be found in any edition of their respective works. In such juvenile performances, it is well observed by an admirable critic, "the absurd conceits and extravagant fancies are the true seeds and germs, which afterwards ripen, by proper culture, into the most luxuriant harvests." See Annual Register, 1779, p. 180. J. N.
IN FELICISSIMAM REGINÆ MARIÆ, | Leave off then, London, to accuse the starres
For adding a worse terrour to the warres ;
Nor quarrel with the Heavens, 'cause they beginne Natura facies renovatur quolibet anno,
To send the worst effect and scorge of sinne, Et sese mirùm fertilis ipsa parit.
That dreadfull plague, which wheresoe're't abide, Sic quoque Naturæ exemplar Regina, decusque, Devours both man and each disease beside. In fætu toties se videt ipsa novam,
For every life which from great Charles does flow, Penè omnem signas tam sæpè puerpera mensem, And 's female self, weighs down a crowd of low Et cupit à partu nomen habere tuo.
And vulgar souls : Fate rids of them the Earth, Quæque tuos toties audit Lucina labores,
To make more room for a great prince's birth. Vix ipsa in proprio sæpiùs Orbe tumet. So when the Sunne, after his watrie rest, Fæcundam semper spectabis Jane, Mariam, Comes dancing from his chamber of the east, Sive hâc sive illâ fronte videre voles.
A thousand pettie lamps, spread ore the skie, Discite, subjecti, officium : Regina Marito Shrink in their doubtfull beams, then wink, and die: Annua jam toties ipsa tributa dedit.
Yet no man grieves ; the very birds arise, Dum redit à sanctis non fessus Carolus aris,
And sing glad notes in stead of elegies : Principis occurit nuntia fama novi.
The leaves and painted flowers, which did ercwhile Non mirum, existat cùm proximus ipse Tonanti,
Tremble with mournfull drops, beginne to smile, Vicinum attingunt quòd citò vota Deum.
The losse of many why should they bemone, Non mirum, cùm sit tam sanctâ mente precatus,
Who for them more than many have in one ? Quad precibus merces tam properata venit.
How blest must thou thy self, bright Mary, be, Factura ô longùm nobis jejunia festum !
Who by thy wombe can'st blesse our miserie? O magnas epulas exhibitura fames !
May 't still be fruitful! May your offspring too En fundunt gemitum et lacrymarum flumina; tur- Spread largely, as your fame and virtues do ! Cum Reginâ ipsam parturissse putes. [bam
Fill every season thus: Time, which devours Credibile est puerum populi sensisse dolores;
It's own sonnes, will be glad and proud of yours. Edidit hinc mæstos Aebilis ipse sonos.
So will the year (though sure it weari'd be
With often revolutions) when 't shall see
Joy to return into it self again.
A. Cowley, A. B. T[rin). Coll). UPON THE HAPPIE BIRTII OF THE
AN ELEGY doth call,
ON THE DEATH OP THE RIGHT HONOURABLE DUDLEY Whilst warre is fear'd, and conquest hop'd by all,
LORD CARLETON, VISCOUNT DORCHESTER, LATS The severall shires their various forces lend,
PRINCIPAL SECRETARY OF STATE.
Of all the fiends, to the black Stygian hall;
Of their accursed meeting, thither came. When a new sonne doth his blest stock adorn, Revenge, whose greedy mind no blood can fill, Then to great Charles is a new armie born.
And Envy, never satisfy'd with ill:
These, to oppress the Earth, the Furies sent':
Whose quenchless thirst by blood was sated never, Powerfull as flame, yet gentle as the light.
Envying the riches, honour, greatness, love, I see him through an adverse battle thrust, And virtue (load-stone, that all these did move) Bedeck'd with noble sweat and comely dust. Of noble Carleton, him she took away, I see the pietie of the day appeare,
And, like a greedy vulture, seiz'd her prey. Joyn'd with the heate and valour of the yeare, Weep with me, each who either reads or bears, Which happie Fate did to this birth allow : And know his loss deserves his country's tears ! I see all this; for sure 'tis present now.
The Muses lost a patron by his fate,
Virtue a husband, and a prop the State. & From the Voces Votivæ ab Academicis Can- Sol's chorus weeps, and, to adorn his hearse, tabrigiensibus pro novissimo Caroli et Mariæ Prin- Calliope would sing a tragic verse. cipe Filio, emissæ. Cantabrigiæ, 1640.
And, had there been before no spring of theirs, Henry, wbo was declared by his father duke of They would have made a Helicon with tears. Gloucester in 1641, but not so created till May 13,
ABR. COWLEY. 1659. He died September 13, 1660.–The Verses are taken from the Voces Votivæ, &c. 1640. "Something is here wanting, as appears from J. N.
the want both of rhyme and connection. J. N.