Success thou ne'er thought'st virtue, nor that fit
Which chance, or th' age's fashion, did make hit;
Excluding those from life in after-time,
Who into poetry first brought luck and rhyme;
Who thought the people's breath good air, styl'd name
What was but noise, and getting briefs for fame
Gather'd the many's suffrages, and thence
Made commendation a benevolence :
Thy thoughts were their own laurel, and did win
That best applause of being crown’d within.
And though th' exacting age, when deeper years
Had interwoven snow among thy hairs,
Would not permit thou shouldst grow old, 'cause they
Ne'er by their writing knew thee young; we may
Say justly, they're ungrateful, when they more
Condemn'd thee, 'cause thou wert so good before :
Thine art was thine acts blur, and they'll confess
Thy strong perfumes made them not smell thee less :
But, though to err with thee be no small skill,
And we adore the last draughts of thy quill;
Though those thy thoughts, which the now queasy age
Doth count but clods, and refuse of the stage,
Will come up porcelain wit some hundreds hence,
When there will be more manners and more sense;
'Twas judgment yet to yield, and we afford
Thy silence as much fame as once thy word:
Who like an aged oak, the leaves being gone,
Wast food before, and now religion;
Thought still more rich, though not so richly stor'd,
View'd and enjoy'd before, but now ador’d.
Great soul of numbers, whom we want and boast,
Like curing gold, most valu'd now thou ’rt lost;
When we shall feed on refuse offals, when
We shall from corn to acorns turn again;
Then shall we see that these two names are one,
Jonson and Poetry, which now are gone *.
Plays and Poems, by W..Cartwright,
Edit. 1651.
THE EARL OF COVENTRY'S DEPARTURE FROM
US TO THE ANGELS.
SWEET
WEET babe! whose birth inspir’d me with a song,
And callid my Muse to trace thy days along;
Attending riper years, with hope to find
Such brave endeavours of thy noble mind,
As might deserve triumphant lines, and make
My forehead bold a laurel crown to take:
How hast thou left us, and this earthly stage,
(Not acting many months) in tender age?
Thou cam'st into this world a little
spy;
Where all things that could please the ear and eye
Were set before thee, but thou found'st them toys,
And flew'st with scornful smiles t' eternal joys:
* There is a masculine flow of good sense in this panegyric, that places Cartwright very high both as a poet and a critic. It appeared first in the Virbius ; or, The Memorie of Ben. Jonson revived by the Friends of the Muses, Lond. 1638. The verses without a signature, page 27, are very excellent : they are also to be found in the Miscellaneous Pieces subjoined to Cleiveland's Poems, p. 80. Lond. 1668.
No visage of grim Death is sent t'affright
Thy spotless soul, nor darkness blinds thy sight;
But lightsome angels with their golden wings
O'erspread thy cradle, and each spirit brings
Some precious balm, for heavenly physic meet,
To make the separation soft and sweet.
The spark infus’d by God departs away,
And bids the earthly weak companion stay
With patience in that nurs'ry of the ground,
Where first the seeds of Adam's limbs were found :
For time shall come when these divided friends
Shall join again, and know no several ends,
But change this short and momentary kiss
To strict embraces of celestial bliss.
Sir John Beaumont's Poems.
CAN
man be silent, and not praises find
For her who liv'd the praise of womankind;
Whose outward frame was lent the world, to guess
What shapes our souls shall wear in happiness;
Whose virtue did all ill so oversway,
That her whole life was a communion-day?
From the Church of Paston, Norfolk.
WHO DIED 1650, AGED TWENTY-ONE.
A
VIRGIN blossom in her May
Of youth and virtues, turn'd to clay;
Rich earth accomplish'd with those graces
That adorn saints in heavenly places.
Let not Death boast his conquering power,
She'll rise a star, that fell a flower !
From the Church of Tewkesbury,
Gloucestershire.
Near to this eglantine
Enclosed lies the milk-white Armeline ;
Once Chloris' only joy,
Now only her annoy;
Who envied was of the most happy swains
That keep their flocks on mountains, dales, or plains:
For oft she bore the wanton in her arm,
And oft her bed and bosom did him warm;
Now when unkindly fates did him destroy,
Bless'd dog, he had the grace,
With tears for him that Chloris wet her face.
Drummond's Poems, p. 203, 8ve.
ENTERTAINED AT NIGHT BY THE COUNTESS OF ANGLESEY.
Fair as unshaded light; or as the day
;
In its first birth, when all the year was May;
Sweet as the altar's smoke, or as the new
Unfolded bud, swell’d by the early dew;
Smooth as the face of waters first appear’d,
Ere tides began to strive, or winds were heard :
Kind as the willing saints, and calmer far
Than in their sleeps forgiven hermits are*;
* It were difficult to produce, from the whole mass of Davenant's poetry, fourteen successive lines of such ease and uninterrupted sweetness of flow. Pope seems to have been fully sensible of their me rit:
Smooth as the face of waters first appear’d, &c.
Still as the sea, ere winds were taught to blow.
Kind as the willing saints, and calmer far
Than in their sleeps forgiven hermits are.
Thus Pope:
Soft as the slumbers of a saint forgiven. Eloisa, Davenant seems to have been fond of this idea ; he has it again in bis Gondibert:
Calm as forgiven saints at their last hour. Cant. viii.
|