Mr Addison.
POEMS ON SEVERAL OCCASIONS.
WITH A DISSERTATION UPON The
Roman
POETS.
By Mr. ADDISON.
LONDON:
Printed for E. CURLL in
Fleet-street.
1719.
PREFACE.
N OW the Translations of Mr.
Addison
's POEMS appear together, it may not be improper to make a few Observations on Modern
Latin Poetry,
and in particular the following Compositions.
Since the general Disuse and Corruption of the
Latin Tongue,
there are not many Attempts in Poetry in that Language that retain the Purity and Graces of the
Augustan-Age.
The
Italians,
by the Encouragement of the House of MEDICIS, first began the Study and Imitation of the best
Roman Poets;
and about the Time of
Leo
the Xth , there appeared a great Number of fine Genius's, who endeavour'd to shake off the Barbarity, and polish the Rust of an ignorant Age. The Event very near answer'd their Expectations, and the Muses seem'd to be re-instated in their old Land of Inheritance. The Reader may see a Collection of their best Pieces in a Volume intitul'd
Poetae Italici;
but among all of them
Vida
is the most pure and elegant, tho' some are offended at the perpetual Imitation of his Darling VIRGIL. The
French
have nothing considerable that I have seen in this way, but
Rapin,
whose Poems every where discover a
Roman
Colouring; and as he does not follow VIRGIL'S Expression so nearly as
Vida,
he is more agreeable to the Judicious.
Vida
with an easy Felicity adapts VIRGIL'S Words to every Subject,
Rapin
chuses rather to imitate his manner of Expression than borrow his very Phrases: So that we may say of these Two, as Mr.
Dryden
does of
Fletcher
's and
Johnson
's copying
Shakespear:
One imitates him
most,
and t'other
best.
The
Dutch
themselves have some no mean
Latin Poems,
as is evident from the Works of
Grotius
and
Heinsius.
Buchanan
is the just boast of the
Scots
Nation: He was a perfect Master of the
Latin
Tongue, knew all its Strength and Beauties, and very happily transfus'd them into his own Poems. That neglected Piece of his
De Sphaerâ
is upon so nice and difficult a Subject as fine and noble a Poem as ever was wrote; tho' I don't know by what Fate, the Modern Criticks are never pleas'd to mention it to his Honour. I beg their Pardons for calling them Criticks, a Name too glorious for these Borrowers of others Opinions, who live upon the Plunder of
Scaliger
and
Rapin
without consulting the Originals; where, if they have happen'd to praise any thing, these Gentlemen take all upon trust, and are Strangers to every Fault and Excellence they have omitted to Blame or Commend.
As to our own
Nation,
the Occasional Copies in the
Ʋ niversity Collections,
are the best Poems we have; the chief of which are publish'd in the
Musae Anglicanae,
tho' I have read a great many more which deserve an equal Honour. Out of these we have singled the Poems of Mr.
Addison,
as the most shining Ornaments of that Work, and given the unlearned Reader the Pleasure of admiring them in his Native Language. I will not say that it is absolutely necessary to be a good
Latin Poet
in order to become a good
English One,
but I am sure that he who imitates the Antients in their own Language will slide more easily into their way of Thinking, adapt their Graces by Degrees, and beautifully transplant them into his Mother-Tongue; and these are no vulgar Beauties in an
English
Poem. I could mention how successfully this was done by
Milton
formerly, and in our Times by Mr.
Addison,
if it did not draw me into too great a length of Preface, which more properly belongs to the following Pieces.
Most of these, tho' very perfect in their kinds, I am apt to believe were design'd as
Trials
of a great
Genius,
after the modest manner of the
Antients,
who began to sport and play in Essays of their Poetical Strength before they attempted Subjects of a greater Dignity. To speak of them in general, I observe that the Language is Pure, Elegant, and Sounding; the Versification easy and numerous, happily adapted to the different Subjects it describes, free from the affected Turns, Puerile Levities, and other Flatnesses, which betray a false Taste, and Defect of Judgment. The
Critick
every where accompanies the
Poet,
and even here a discerning Eye might have seen the Promises of a CAMPAIGN and a CATO.
The Battel of the
Pygmies
and
Cranes,
The
Puppet-Show,
and The
Bowling-Green,
are of the
Mock-Heroic
kind, the Subjects mean and trivial, seemingly incapable of Poetical Ornaments, but are rais'd to the Heroic, by a splendid Boldness of Expression, a Pomp of Verse, by Metaphors, Allusions, and Similitudes drawn from Things of a higher Class, and such as are suited by Nature to convey Ideas of Greatness and Magnificence to the Mind. VIRGIL, in his
Georgicks,
is the great Master in this way, with this Difference only, that
his
is a serious Geandeur,
this
a Mimic one,
his
produces Admiration,
this
Laughter.
The
Resurrection
is a noble Piece, drawn after the
Painter
with a masterly Hand. As it has been spoken to by the Translator, I leave the Reader to his Observations.
The
Barometer
is a fine Philosophical Poem, describing the Effects of the Air on that wonderful Instrument with great Exactness, as well as in the most beautiful Poetry. The
Odes
to Dr.
Burnett
and Dr.
Hannes
are written in the true Spirit of HORACE, and are only equall'd among the Moderns by those excellent ones of the
Latter.
The
Peace
of
Reswick
is here plac'd last, but first in the Original, in which the Author seems to have exerted all his Powers, to make it shine above his other Compositions. It is, indeed, a Master-Piece, the Images are chosen with a nice Judgment, work'd up with a Delicacy of Imagination, and plac'd in the strongest Light. Every thing strikes at the first View, and yet will bear the strictest Eye to re-examine it. The Descriptions being both just and surprizing, put the Mind upon the full stretch as they are preparing, and exceed the boldest Expectations when finish'd. Upon this occasion I can't help remarking, that the
Art of
War
being so much chang'd since the
Roman Times,
it must be a difficult Task to find Words in that Language to express even the common Ideas of a Modern Battel; but to do it in all its terrible Scenes of new Inventions was reserv'd for the Pen of Mr.
Addison.
The
Translators,
I hope, need not make any excuse to the Reader, tho' they will want an Apology to the
Author,
whose Excellencies their Copies but faintly imitate. All that I can say in our Defence, is, that some of them have fell into much worse Hands before, who have mangled his Sense, and debas'd his Poetry, by a cold, unspirited Translation. Thus if he does some Kindness in a moral way, who takes off part of an Injury, tho' he can't redress the Whole, we may hope at least to be forgiven who have corrected many Abuses cast on Mr.
Addison
by former Authors, tho' we could not in all things do him the Justice he deserves.
inv. E Kirkall. sculp.
Ad Insignissimum Virum D. THO. BURNETTUM, Sacrae Theoriae Telluris Autorem.
N ON usitatum carminis alitem,
BURNETTE, poscis, non humiles modos:
Vulgare plectrum, languidaeque
Respuis officium camoenae.
Tu mixta rerum semina conscius,
Molémque cernis dissociabilem,
Terrámque concretam, & latentem
Oceanum gremio capaci:
Dum veritatem quaerere pertinax
Ignota pandis, sollicitus parùm
Utcunque stet commune vulgi
Arbitrium & popularis error.
Auditur ingens continuò fragor,
Illapsa tellus lubrica deserit
Fundamina, & compage fractâ
Suppositas gravis urget undas.
Impulsus erumpit medius liquor,
Terras aquarum effusa licentia
Claudit vicissim; has inter orbis
Reliquiae fluitant prioris.
Nunc & recluso carcere lucidam
Balaena spectat solis imaginem,
Stellásque miratur natantes,
Et tremulae simulacra lunae.
Quae pompa vocum non imitabilis!
Qualis calescit spiritus ingenî!
Ut toll is undas! ut frementem
Diluvii reprimis tumultum!
Quis tam valenti pectore ferreus
Ut non tremiscens & timido pede
Incedat, orbis dum dolofi
Detegis instabiles ruinas?
Quin haec cadentûm fragmina montium
Natura vultum sumere simplicem
Coget refingens, in priorem
Mox iterum reditura formam.
Nimbis rubentem sulphureis Jovem
Cernas; ut udis saevit atrox Hyems
Incendiis, commune mundo
Et populis meditata Bustum!
Nudus liquentes plorat Athos nives,
Et mox liquescens ipse adamantinum
Fundit cacumen, dum per imas
Saxa fluunt resoluta valles.
Jamque alta coeli moenia corruunt,
Et vestra tandem pagina (proh nefas!)
BURNETTE, vestra augebit ignes,
Heu socio peritura mundo.
Mox aequa tellus, mox subitus viror
Ubique rident: En teretem Globum!
En laeta vernantis Favonî
Flamina, perpetuósque flores!
O pectus ingens! O animum gravem,
Mundi capacem! si bonus auguror,
Te, nostra quo tellus superbit,
Accipiet renovata civem.
Jo. Addison,
è Coll. Magd. Oxon.
1699.
AN ODE To the Learned Dr.
Thomas Burnett,
AUTHOR of
The Theory of the
EARTH.
I.
NO common Height the Muse must soar,
That wou'd thy Fame in Numberstry;
Nor dare in humble Verse adore,
But rise with Thee above the Sky,
You ask a bold and lofty strain,
And what we meanly sing, disdain.
II.
You
Nature's early Birth explore,
Her disunited Frame disclose,
From what mix'd Cause, and jarring Power,
The Infant Earth to Being rose:
How, in her Circling Bosom sleep
Th' imprison'd Seas, and Bounded Deep.
III.
Resolv'd great hidden Truths to trace,
Each Learned Fable you despise;
And, pleas'd, enjoy the fam'd disgrace,
To think, and reason,
singly wise:
Each Tale reject by Time allow'd,
And nobly leave the erring Crowd.
IV.
Hark! from her weak Foundations tore,
The bursting Earth asunder flies,
And, prop'd by yielding Seas no more,
The dreadful Crack alarms the Skies:
Whose Arches rent, their Weight forego,
And plunge in opening Gulphs below.
V.
Now rushing from their watry Bed,
The
driving
Waves disdain a shore;
And with resistless Force o'erspread
That Orb, which check'd their Rage before:
While scattered o'er the foamy Tide,
All Nature's floating Ruins ride.
VI.
New Heavens disclos'd, the Silver Train
The SUN beneath their Waves admire;
And gliding thro' th' enlight'ned Main,
Gaze at each STAR'S diminish'd Fire.
Well pleas'd, the MOON'S bright Orb survey,
Trembling along their Azure Way.
VII.
How strong each Line, each Thought how great,
With what an Energy you rise!
How shines each Fancy? with what Heat
Does every glowing Page surprize?
While spouting Oceans upward flow,
Or sink again to Caves below.
VIII.
As Nature's Doom you thus impart,
The moving Scene we scarce endure;
But, shrinking, ask our anxious Heart,
If on our Earth we tread secure?
Whose Fate unmov'd, as you persue,
We start and
tremble
but to view.
IX.
Yet
these
Remains, we now behold,
Which Tow'ring once in Hills arose;
Shall from a New and fairer Mould
A New and fairer Earth compose:
Which to her Fate shall Owe her Bloom,
And rise more lovely from her Tomb.
X.
Yet see
This
beauteous Fabrick end,
This
Second Pride of Fate expire;
While gushing from the Clouds descend
The Burning Storm, the Liquid Fire;
Where Worlds and Men consuming lie,
And in One bright Confusion Die.
XI.
Their naked Tops the Hills admire,
No longer white with fleecy Dew;
And as they moan the spreading Fire,
Add to the Flames dissolving too:
While Rocks from melting Mountains flow,
And roll in Streams thro' Vales below.
XII.
And now the Kindling Orbs on high
All Nature's mournful End proclaim;
When thy great WORK, (Alas!) must die,
And feed the rich victorious Flame:
Give Vigour to the wasting Fire,
And with the World TOO SOON expire.
XIII.
Once more her Bloom the Earth renews,
Smooth'd into Green, eternal Vales;
Her Glebe still moist with fragrant Dews,
Her Air
still
rich with balmy Gales:
No Change her Flowry Seasons breed,
But Springs retire, and Springs succeed.
XIV.
Oh say,
Thou
Great,
Thou
Sacred Name,
What Scenes Thy thoughtful Breast employ,
Capacious as that
mighty
Frame
You raise with Ease, with Ease destroy?
Each World shall boast thy Fame; and YOU,
Who charm'd the OLD, shall grace the NEW.
AD D.D. HANNES, INSIGNISSIMUM MEDICUM & POETAM.
O QUI canoro blandiùs Orpheo
Vocale ducis carmen, & exitu
Feliciore luctuosis
Saepe animam revocas ab umbris,
Jam seu solutos in numerum pedes
Cogis, vel aegrum & vix animae tenax
Corpus tueris, seu cadaver
Luminibus penetras acutis;
Opus relinquens eripe te morae,
Frontémque curis solicitam explica,
Scyphúmque jucundus require
Purpureo gravidum Lyaeo.
Nunc plena magni pocula postules
Memor WILHELMI, nunc moveat sitim
Minister ingens, Imperîque
Praefidium haud leve, MONTACUTUS.
Omitte tandem triste negotium
Gravésque curas, heu nimium pius!
Nec caeteros cautus mederi
Ipse tuam minuas salutem.
Frustra cruorem pulsibus incitis
Ebullientem pollice comprimis,
Attentus explorare venam
Quae febris exagitet tumentem:
Frustra liquores quot Chymica expedit
Fornax, & error sanguinis, & vigor
Innatus herbis te fatigant:
Seriùs aut citiùs sepulchro
Debemur omnes, vitáque deseret
Expulsa morbis corpus inhospitum,
Lent
mque deflebunt nepotes
(Reliiquias Animae) cadaver.
Manes videbis Tu quoque fabulas,
Quos pauciores fecerit Ars tua;
Suúmque victorem vicissim
Subjiciet Libitina victrix.
Decurrit illi vita beatior
Quicunque Lucem non nimis anxius
Reddit molestam, urgétve curas
Sponte suâ satis ingruentes;
Et quem dierum lene fluentium
Delectat ordo, vitique mutuis
Felix amicis, gaudiisque
Innocuis benè temperata.
Jo. Addison,
è Coll. Magd. Oxon.
1699.
AN ODE TO Dr.
HANNES,
An Eminent PHYSICIAN and POET.
I.
WHILE flying o'er the Golden Strings,
You gently wake the tuneful Lyre;
Or tender, as when ORPHEUS sings,
With
softer
Sounds the Harp inspire:
Sad fleeting Ghosts with Art constrain
Back to a
kinder Life
again.
II.
Whether, in graceful Lays you shine,
And Verse your easy Hours employ;
Or give the Soul, her mouldring Shrine
Decay'd, a
Fairer
to enjoy:
The Body, cold in Death, explore
Thy Skill could only,
not
restore.
III.
Awhile thy learned Toil decline,
Nor anxious more, in smiles allow
The Circling Glass, the Generous Wine,
T' unbend, and smooth thy chearful Brow:
Nor longer to
thy self
severe,
In the rich Draught forget thy care.
IV.
Now with thy Monarch's Glory fir'd,
Let
Great
NASSAU thy Thirst inflame;
Or by his MOUNTAGUE
The late Earl of
Halifax.
inspir'd,
Record the Patriot's faithful Name:
By whose wise Arts, and watchful Pains,
HE Rules in Peace, in Safety Reigns!
V.
At length thy mournful Task forbear,
From sad'ning Thoughts some respite find;
And while we
bless
thy pious Care,
Be to thy self,
in pity,
kind:
Inspir'd with your own Blessings, live;
Nor want
Your self
that Bloom
you
give.
VI.
In vain the Blood's tumultuous Tide,
And circling Stream your Hand restrains;
Taught o'er the Pulses to preside,
And well explore the bubbling Veins:
That with the Fever's swelling Heat
Glow
more
inflam'd,
more
fiercely beat.
VII.
In vain you try each
Chymic Power,
Trace to its Spring the Sanguine Wave;
And kindly search
each
healing Flower
For Helps to guard us from the Grave:
In endless Bloom to bid us live,
Which THOU, nor THEY (Alas) can give.
VIII.
One certain Fate by Heaven decreed,
In spite of Thee we all must try;
When from her bursting Prison freed,
The mounting Soul shall
claim
the Sky:
Our Sons must once lament our Doom,
And shed their Sorrows round our Tomb.
IX.
Thou
too shalt with pale Horror see
The Fabled Ghosts which glare below,
Which to the Shades, restrain'd by
Thee,
In thinner Shoals, descending, flow:
And Death, whose Power you now defy,
Shall boast, her Conqueror
can
Die.
X.
His
Life alone is greatly blest,
Whom no intruding Griefs annoy;
Who smiles each happy Day, possest
Of chearful
Ease,
and harmless
Joy:
Nor
sadly
soothing his own Cares,
Augments himself the Weight he bears.
XI.
Pleas'd, with a few selected Friends,
He views each smiling Evening close;
While each succeeding Morn ascends,
Charg'd with Delights, unmark'd with Woes
In Pleasures innocently gay,
Wears the Remains of Life away.
ΠΥΓΜΑΙΟ-ΓΕΡΑΝΟ-ΜΑΧΙΑ, SIVE, PRAELIUM INTER PYGMAEOS & GRUES commissum.
P Ennatas acies, & lamentabile bellum
Pygmeadum refero: parvas tu, Musa, cohortes
Instrue: tu gladios, mortémque minantia rostra,
Offensosque Grues, indignantésque pusillam
Militiam celebra; volucrúmque hominúmque tumultus.
Heroüm ingentes animos & tristia bella
Pieridum labor exhausit, versúque sonoro
Jussit, & aeternâ numerorum assurgere pompâ:
Quis lectos Grajûm juvenes, & torva tuentem
Thesea, Quis pedibus velocem ignorat Achillem?
Quem dura Aeneae certamina, quem GULIELMI
Gesta latent? fratres Thebani, & flebile fatum
Pompei quem non delassavêre legentem?
Primus ego intactas acies, gracilémque tubarum
Carmine depingam sonitum, nova castra secutus;
Exiguósque canam pugiles, Gruibusque malignos
Heroas, nigrisque ruentem è nubibus hostem.
Quâ solis tepet ortu, primitiisque diei
India laeta rubet, medium inter inhospita saxa
(Per placidam vallem, & paucis accessa vireta)
Pygmaeûm quondam steterat, dum fata sinebant,
Imperium. Hîc varias vitam excoluêre per artes
Seduli, & assiduo fervebant arva popello.
Nunc si quis dura evadat per saxa viator,
Desertósque lares, & valles ossibus albas
Exiguis videt, & vestigia parva stupescit.
Desolata tenet victrix impunè volucris
Regna, & securo crepitat Grus improba nido.
Non sic, dum multos stetit insuperabilis annos
Parvula progenies; tum, si quis cominùs ales
Congredi, & immixtae auderet se credere pugnae,
Miles atrox aderat, sumptisque feroculus armis
Sternit humi volucrem moribundam, humerisque reportat
Ingentem praedam; caesóque epulatur in hoste.
Saepè improvisas mactabat, saepè juvabat
Diripere aut nidum, aut ulcisci in prole parentem.
Nempe larem quoties multa construxerat arte,
Aut uteri posuisset onus, volucrémque futuram;
Continuò vultu spirans immane minaci
Omnia vastaret miles, foetúsque necaret
Immeritos, vitámque abrumperet imperfectam,
Cum tepido nondum maturuit hostis in ovo.
Hinc causae irarum, bella hinc, fatalia bella,
Atque acies letho intentae, volucrúmque virûmque
Commissae strages, confusáque mortis imago.
Non tantos motus, nec tam memorabile bellum
Maeonius quondam sublimi carmine Vates
Lusit; ubi totam strepitúque armisque paludem
Miscuit: hîc (visu miserabile!) corpora murum
Sparsa jacent juncis transfixa, hic gutture rauco
Rana dolet, pedibúsque abscisso poplite ternis
Reptat humi, solitis nec sese saltibus effert.
Jamque dies Pygmaeo aderat, quo tempore caesi
Poenituit foetûs, intactáque maluit ova.
Nam super his accensa graves exarsit in iras
Grus stomachans; omnésque simul, quas Strymonis unda,
Aut stagnum Mareotidis, imi aut uda Caystri
Prata tenent, adsunt; Scythicâque excita palude,
Et conjurato volucris descendit ab Istro,
Stragésque immensas & vulnera cogitat absens,
Exacuitque ungues ictum meditata futurum,
Et rostrum parat acre, fugaeque accommodat alas.
Tantus amor belli, & vindictae arrecta cupido.
Ergò ubi ver nactus proprium, suspensus in alto
Aëre concussis exercitus obstrepit alis,
Terraeque immensos tractus, semotáque longè
Aequora despiciunt, Boreámque & nubila tranant
Innumeri. Crebro circùm ingens fluctuat aether
Flamine, & assiduus miscet coelum omne tumultus.
Nec minor in terris motus, dum bella facessit
Impiger, instituitque agmen, firmátque phalangas,
Et furit arreptis animosus homuncio telis:
Donec turma duas compôsta excurrat in alas,
Ordinibásque frequens, & marte instructa perito.
Jamque acies inter medias sese arduus infert
Pygmeadum ductor, qui majestate verendus,
Incessáque gravis, reliquos supereminet omnes
Mole Giganteâ, mediámque assurgit in ulnam.
Torvior aspectu (hostilis nam insculpserat unguis
Ore cicatrices) vultúque ostentat honesta
Rostrorum signa, & crudos in pectore morsus.
Immortali odio, aeternisque exercuit iris
Alituum Gentem, non illum impunè volucris
Aut ore, aut pedibus peteret confisus aduncis.
Fatalem quoties Gruibus distrinxerat ensem,
Truncavitque alas, celerique fugam abstulit hosti!
Quot fecit strages! Quae nudis funera pullis
Intulit, heu! Quoties implevit Strymona fletu!
Jamque procul sonus auditur, piceámque volantûm
Prospectant nubem, bellúmque hostésque ferentem.
Crebrescit tandem, atque oculis se plurimus offert
Ordinibus structus variis exercitus ingens
Alituum, motisque eventilat aëra pennis.
Turba polum replet, speciéque immanis obumbrat
Agmina Pygmaeorum, & densa in nubibus haeret:
Nunc densa, at patriis mox reddita rarior oris.
Belli ardent studio Pygmaei, & lumine saevo
Suspiciunt hostem; nec longum tempus, & ingens
Turba Gruum horrifico sese super agmina lapsu
Praecipitat gravis, & bellum sperantibus infert.
Fit fragor; avulsae volitant circum aëra plumae.
Mox defessa iterum levibus sese eripit alis,
Et vires reparata iterum petit impete terras.
Armorum pendet fortuna: hîc fixa volucris
Cuspide, sanguineo sese furibunda rotatu
Torquet agens circùm, rostr
mque intendit in hostem
Imbelle, & curvos in morte recolligit ungues.
Pygmaei hîc stillat lentus de vulnere sanguis,
Singultúsque ciet crebros, pedibúsque pusillis
Tundit humum, & moriens unguem execratur acutum.
Aestuat omne solum strepitu, tepidóque rubescit
Sanguine, sparguntur gladii, sparguntur & alae,
Unguésque & digiti, commistáque rostra lacertis.
Pygmeadum saevit, mediisque in millibus ardet,
Ductor, quem latè hinc atque hinc pereuntia cingunt
Corpora fusa Gruum; mediâque in morte vagatur,
Nec plausu alarum, nec rostri concidit ictu.
Ille Gruum terror, illum densissima circum
Miscetur pugna, & bellum omne laborat in uno:
Cùm, subito appulsus (sic Dî voluêre) tumultu
Ex inopino ingens & formidabilis Ales
Comprendit pedibus pugnantem; & (triste relatu)
Sustulit in coelum; Bellator ab unguibus haeret
Pendulus, agglomerat strepitu globus undique densus
Alituum; frustra Pygmaei lumine maesto
Regem inter nubes lugent, solitóque minorem
Heroem aspiciunt Gruibus plaudentibus escam.
Jamque recrudescit bellum, Grus desuper urget
Pygmaeum rostro, atque hostem petit ardua morsu;
Tum fugit alta volans; is sursùm brachia jactat
Vulneris impatiens, & inanes saevit in auras.
Talis erat belli facies, cum Pelion ingens
Mitteret in coelum Briareus, solióque Tonantem
Praecipitem excuteret; sparguntur in aethere toto
Fulmináque scopulique: flagrantia tela deorsum
Torquentur Jovis acta manu, dum vasta Gigantum
Corpora fusa jacent, semiustáque sulphure fumant.
Viribus absumptis penitùs Pygmeïa tandem
Agmina languescunt; ergo pars vertere terga
Horribili perculsa metu, pars tollere vocem
Exiguam; latè populus Cubitalis oberrat.
Instant à tergo volucres, lacerántque trahúntque
Immites, certae gentem extirpare nefandam.
Sic Pygmaei domus multos dominata per annos,
Tot bellis defuncta, Gruum tot laeta triumphis,
Fundit
s interiit: Nempe exitus omnia tandem
Certus Regna maner, sunt certi denique fines,
Quos ultra transire nefas: sic corruit olim
Assyriae Imperium, sic magnae Persidis imis
Sedibus eversum est, & majus utroque Latinum.
Elysii valles nunc agmine lustrat inani,
Et veterum Heroum miscetur grandibus umbris
Plebs parva: aut, si quid fidei mereatur anilis
Fabula, Pastores per noctis opaca pusillas
Saepe vident umbras, Pygmaeos corpore cassos.
Dum secura Gruum, & veteres oblita labores,
Laetitiae penitùs vacat, indulgétque choreis,
Angustósque terit calles, viridésque per orbes
Turba levis salit, & Lemurum cognomine gauder.
Jo. Addison, M.A.
è Coll. Magd. Oxon.
1699.
THE BATTEL OF THE PYGMIES and CRANES.
THE
Feather'd Warriors,
and the
Pigmy-State,
Record, Oh Muse! their Battels, and their Fate.
Sing their great Wars, and as their Troops engage,
Guide the
low Heroes,
and direct their Rage.
Here
Swords
all flaming for the Fight display;
There
Beaks
as vengeful, and as keen as they:
Dreadfully mingling in one lofty Strain,
The
Pygmies
Courage, and the Foes Disdain.
While
Birds
and
Men
in dire dread Conflicts try
The Earth's Command, and Empire of the Sky.
Already fair in Verse each Warrior's Name,
The Muse has greatly sung, and paid with Fame.
His hardy Toil with Transport each admires,
The Poet rising, as the Chief inspires.
To distant Time the Muse has handed down
The
Graecian
Valour, and her Youths Renown.
How sternly brave in Fight great THESEUS glows;
How swift ACHILLES drives upon his Foes.
AENEAS' Fame with Wonder we peruse,
And WILLIAM'S wreaths are green in ev'ry Muse.
While
Theban
Chiefs, and POMPEY'S mournful Name,
Weary each Eye, and tire us with their Fame.
My bolder Muse, unsung in antient Lays,
New Battels ranges, and new Camps surveys;
In Verse the Trumpet's Silver Sound describes,
And fatal to the
Cranes,
the
Pygmy
Tribes.
Dark thro' the Air, while hov'ring Nations flow,
And from the Clouds descends the
Feather'd Foe.
Where happy
India
boasts a warmer Ray,
And, smiling, blushes at the Birth of Day:
Embrac'd by Rocks, a flow'ry Vale is seen,
By Few frequented, and for ever green.
Here high in Fame (till Heaven that Fame withstand)
The spreading
Pygmy
Nations wide command;
By various Arts a frugal Life sustain,
While lab'ring Millions throng each crowded Plain.
But now their Desart Realms, as we descry,
Untill'd their Vales, their Bowers unpeopled lye.
While Bones of
mighty
Dwarfs, and Warriors slain,
Strike ev'ry Eye, and whiten all the Plain.
These Realms are now by
Victor-Cranes
possest;
There safe they triumph in each airy Nest.
Not thus they moan'd their Country's Fate of old,
When Subject States their Monarchs Arm controul'd.
The Soldier then, when e'er the Foe drew near,
Grasp'd hard his Sword, and, dreadful, shook his Spear:
Till gasping now, and breathless on the Ground,
Deep in his Breast he drives the deadly Wound.
His Shoulders scarce the pond'rous Spoil convey,
Alive his Terror, and, when dead, his Prey.
Oft in the Grove her curious Mansions hung,
His Rage o'erthrows, and slays the
Crying Young.
The
Mother-Bird,
from far, beholds with Pain
Her Kingdoms rifled, and her Infants slain;
Whose little Lives their Parents Guilt atone
For Crimes alas! expiring, not their own.
His Breast no Pity to their Cries will give;
Doom'd by his Sword to
dye,
before they
live;
E'er yet a Form th'
imperfect Young
enjoys;
And in the
Egg
the future Foe destroys.
From this dire Spring immortal Discords rose,
Which wrought the Sons of Fame unnumber'd Foes:
While warring Troops disturb the Earth and Sky,
And
Birds,
and
Men,
confus'd together,
dye.
Less Tumults from less noble Causes sprung,
The
Graecian
Bard of old sublimely sung.
While Thund'ring Arms, and meeting Hosts around,
Mix in one Noise, and all the Lake
Homer
's Batrachemuomachia.
confound.
Here scatter'd o'er the bloody Plains are laid
Expiring
Mice,
by Bulrush-Spears destroy'd:
There limping
Frogs,
distain'd with gen'rous Gore,
In deep hoarse Plaints their absent Limbs deplore:
Unactive now, forget their springing Bound,
And hardly trail their sluggish Weight along the Ground.
Now the great Morn her Light began disclose:
That Morn, which fatal to the
Pygmies
rose,
When they shall rue the Rashness of their Guilt,
And wish the
Young
unslain, the
Egg
unspilt.
For this the vengeful Sires in War engage,
Burn with Revenge, and call forth all their Rage;
Sad with Regret, they summon from afar
Wide distant Nations to the airy War.
What Troops remote
Strymonian
Waters breed,
And o'er
Caisters
flow'ry Meadows feed:
What hardy Bands the
Scythian
Lakes supply,
Or pour'd from
Ister
's Banks obscure the Sky;
Confed'rate
join—with Slaughter all around
Their Bosomsswell, and, absent, seem to wound.
Each whet their Talons, and their Beaks prepare
To gore the Battel, and confuse the War.
For speedy Flight the sounding Pinions drest,
Such Thirst of Vengeance heaves each Warrior's Breast.
Now Spring arriv'd, the gath'ring Troops on high
Cut the mid Air, and sail along the Sky.
Beneath their Wings as they sublimely soar,
Wide Empires stretch, and wider Oceans roar.
Thro' the bleak North as they their Legions guide,
The Day grows darker, and the Clouds divide.
Fan'd with the Blast, and trembling as they fly,
A loud deep Murmur runs along the Sky.
Nor less on Earth the
Pygmy
Fury glows,
Whose Chiefs for Fight the Martial Troops dispose,
Direct the War—and as the Foe draws near,
Each gripes his Sword, and, eager, shakes his Spear.
While closely wedg'd, and dreadful to the Foe,
Their double Battel hides the Plain below.
And now the MONARCH of the
Pygmy
Throng,
Advancing, stalks with ample Strides along;
Slowly he moves, Majestically tall;
Tow'rs o'er his Subjects, and o'erlooks 'em all.
A
Giant-Pygmy,
whose high Spirits swell,
Elated with the Size of
half an Ell.
Stern was his Visage—for his Face all o'er
Of Savage Clans the dire Impressions bore;
And seam'd with ghastly Wounds his manly Breast;
Still own'd the Foe, and still the Nails confest.
Hence Wrath, immortal Wrath, his Bosom fir'd
To quell the Nations, and his
Fall
conspir'd:
Who join'd in Arms his Fury to restrain,
Whet keen their Claws, and plunge their Beaks in vain.
Oft, as his Sword its Edge in Battel shows,
To lop a Pinion, and retard his Foes,
What Heaps of Dead, what Mountains of the slain,
What Slaughter reddens all the slipp'ry Plain?
While sighing o'er
Strymonian
Lakes alone,
Sad Widows languish, and sad Orphans moan.
Now broken Murmurs, sounding from afar,
Presage th' Approaches of the flying War.
Black with the Foe, the Clouds they now descry
Cleaving the Air, and marching thro' the Sky.
Wing'd Troops disclosing, as they wide unfold;
And what they heard aloft, they now behold.
In solemn State above, and strict Array,
A dreadful Scene the hov'ring Troops display.
Their spreading War extends along the Skies,
And the fann'd Air before their Pinions flies.
All Heaven is crowded, and the dark'ning Foe,
Hung in the Clouds, obscures the Camp below;
With gloomy Horror shades the nether Plain,
And Millions, ne'er to view their Native Groves again.
The
Pygmy
Troops beneath, in firm Array,
With eager Looks the hanging Foe survey:
Up to the Clouds their vengeful Eyes they turn,
Demand the Fight, and for the Combat burn.
When lo! the
Cranes,
descending from on high,
Rush thro' the Air, and dart along the Sky.
Amidst his Ranks they drive their plunging Bands,
And give that Battel which the Foe demands.
Both Hosts engage—dire deaf'ning Murmurs rise,
And Clouds of Feathers floating fill the Skies.
The fainting
Birds,
their Vigour to repair,
Now leave the Field, and skim aloft in Air:
Their Strength renew'd, they shoot along the Plain,
Mix in the Fight, and urge the War again.
Each side an equal Part of Glory shares,
And Conquest yet for neither Host declares.
Here a brave Warrior wounded as he flies,
In circling Eddies whirls around the Skies:
Still as the Foe his fruitless Vengeance tires,
Collects his Talons, and in Rage expires.
There gently streaming from the Heroes Veins,
A
Pygmy
's Gore the Purple Field distains;
Deep Murmurs from his heaving Heart resound;
Panting he falls, and beats the bleeding Ground.
While Shades of Death o'erspread his swimming Eyes,
Curses the Foe's avenging Claws, and dies.
And now the Ghostly Fields of Death, all o'er
Confus'd with Noise, and warm with smoaking Gore;
From every Eye a soft Compassion draw;
Here shines a Sword, there sprawls a trembling Claw:
While copious Slaughter gluts the slipp'ry Plain
With Wings of Birds, and Limbs of Mortals slain.
The
Pygmy
-Chief, his Faulchion waving high,
Wide wasting drops—while Millions round him die.
Amidst Ten Thousand Deaths secure he springs,
Mocks their sharp Beaks and persecuting Wings.
To stop his wasting Sword, th' avenging Foe
In circling Troops around the Warrior flow.
Dark o'er his Helmet thronging Legions spread,
And all the Battel rages round his Head.
When lo! a
Crane,
swift shooting from above,
(Such was the Will and dire Decree of JOVE)
Caught in his wounding Talons, as he flies,
Fast gripes the Foe, and bears him thro' the Skies.
A Cloud of Birds the Captive-
King
surround,
Clap their glad Wings, and waft him from the Ground:
While bore aloft, and less'ning as he soars,
Each
Pygmy
views his Lord, and each deplores.
But sigh in vain, their Monarch's Arm o'erpower'd,
Their Monarch vanquish'd first, and then devour'd.
But see the War once more revives on high,
Sounds thro' the Air, and ranges o'er the Sky.
The
Pygmy
's Sword around with Vengeance drove;
The
Cranes
disdain, and gore him from above.
Then skim aloft; the sprawling Chief with Pain
Shrinks from the Wound, and waves his Arm in vain.
Such was the War, when Mountains toss'd on high,
Shook JOVE'S High Throne, and labour'd up the Sky.
While Heav'n and Earth a doubtful Fight prepare,
And Rocks and Thunders mingle in the Air.
Till the wing'd Bolt, all flaming from above,
Launch'd from the dreadful red Right Hand of JOVE,
Confounds the War. His falling Rival's slain,
Gasp o'er the Fields—and smoaking hide the Plain.
And now their Vigour spent, their Martial Fire
Glowing in vain, the
Pygmy
-Troops retire.
Pale with Despair they leave the fatal Field,
For Pity raise their shrill low Voice, and yield.
But fierce behind the
Cranes
persue their way;
Dart from above, and tear the flying Prey.
Thro' Fields of Death the mangled Warriors chace,
And in one Battel end the faithless
Race.
The
Pygmy
-Nation, thus so long renown'd,
O'erspread with Lawrels, and with Trophies crown'd,
Resigns her Fame—for Heaven and partial Fate
To Earth's great Empires fix one certain Date;
Assign the Period to each Nation's Fame.
Thus rose, and thus expir'd th'
Assyrian
Name;
Thus sunk (alike their Glory, and their Doom)
Thy Pride, O
Persia,
and thy Grandeur,
Rome.
Now mix'd with Shades of mighty Heroes slain,
The empty Troops o'erspread th'
Elysian
Plain:
And if th' important Story be allow'd,
Confirm'd by Fame, each Night the
Fairy-Crowd,
Unbody'd Forms, by wond'ring Shepherds seen,
Skim thro' the Gloom, and wanton o'er the Green.
With Schemes of War no more their Bosoms glow,
Forget their Labours, and their
Feather'd Foe.
But sportive now in wanton Dances round,
With narrow Tracks they mark the flow'ry Ground:
A greener Turf the verdant Ring supplies,
And in the
Fairy-Name
the
Pygmy
dies.
BAROMETRI DESCRIPTIO.
Q Uà penetrat fossor terrae caeca antra, metallo
Foecunda informi, rudibúsque nitentia venis;
Dum stupet occultas gazas, nummósque futuros,
Eruit argenti latices, nitidúmque liquorem;
Qui nullo effusus prodit vestigia tractu,
Nec terram signo revolubilis imprimit udo,
Sed fractus sparsim in globulos formam us
que
rotundam
Servat, & in teretes lapsans se colligit orbes.
Incertum quâ fit naturâ, an negligat ultrà
Perficier, jubar & maturus inutile temnat;
An potius solis vis imperfecta relinquat
Argentum maleè coctum, divitiasque fluentes:
Quicquid erit, magno se jactat nobilis usu;
Nec Deus effulfit magis aspectabilis olim,
Cùm Danaen flavo circum pretiosus amictu
Ambiit, &, gratam suadente libidine formam,
Depluit irriguo liquefactum Numen in Auro.
Quin age, sume tubum fragilem, cui densior aër
Exclusus; fundo vitri subsidat in imo
Argenti stagnum; ut pluvia impendente metallum
Mobile descendat, vel contr
, ubi postulat aestus,
Prodeat hinc liquor emergens, & rursus inane
Occupet ascensu, tubulúmque excurrat in omnem.
Jam coeli faciem, tempestatesque futuras,
Conscia lympha monet, brumámque & frigora narrat.
Nam quoties liquor insurgit, vitreóque canali
Sublatum nequeunt ripae cohibere priores;
Tum laetos sperare dies licet, arva fatentur
Aestatem, & largè diffuso lumine rident.
Sin sese immodicùm attollens Argenteus humor,
Et nimium oppressus, contendat ad ardua vitri,
Jam fitiunt herbae, jam succos flamma feraces
Excoquit, & languent consumto prata virore.
Cum verò tenues nebulas spiracula terrae
Fundunt, & madidi fluitant super aequora fumi,
Pabula venturae pluviae; tum fusile pondus
Inferiora petit; nec certior Ardea coelos
Indicat humentes, medias quando aetheris oras
Tranando, crassâ fruitur sublimiùs aurâ,
Discutit & madidis rorantia nubila pennis.
Nunc guttae agglomerant, dispersas frigora stipant
Particulas, rarúsque in nimbum cogitur humor:
Prata virent, segetem foecundis imbribus aether
Irrigat, & bibulae radici alimenta ministrat.
Quin ubi plus aequo descendens unda metalli
Fundum amat, impatiens pluviae, metuens
que
procellam,
Agricolae caveant; non hoc impunè colonus
Aspicit; ostendet mox foeta vaporibus aura
Collectas hyemes, tempestatémque sonoram.
At licet Argentum mole incumbente levatum
Subsidat, penitúsque imo se condat in alveô,
Caetera quaeque tument; eversis flumina ripis
Expatiata ruunt, spumantibus, aestuat undis
Diluvium, rapidique effusa licentia ponti.
Nulla tacet secreta poli mirabile vitrum,
Quin varios coeli vultus & tempora prodit.
Antè refert, quando tenui velamine tutus
Incedes, quando sperabis frigidus ignem.
Augurio hoc fretus, quanquam atri nubila coeli
Dirumpunt obscura diem, pluviásque minantur;
Machina si neget, & sudum promittat apertum,
Audax carpat iter nimbo pendente viator;
Nec metuens imbrem, poscentes Messor aristas
Prosternat: terrae jam bruma incumbit inermis,
Frigoráque haud nocitura cadunt, feriúntque paratos.
Jo. Addison, A.B.
è Coll. Magd. Oxon.
1699.
THE BAROMETER: OR, WEATHER-GLASS.
IN those dark Caverns of the teeming Earth,
Where Nature gives to various Metals Birth:
Where massy Bars of
Oar
unfashion'd lay,
And her Veins glitter with a ruddy Ray;
There, as the wond'ring
Workman
views the Mine
With secret Riches fraught, and
future Coin,
His Hands a
shining Silver Fountain
force,
That runs, and rowls unmarking of its Course.
No Signs, no moisten'd Tracts of Earth betray
Or its first-flowing, or returning way;
Tho' broke, in gather'd Globes it still appears,
And recollects it self in rounded
Spheres.
None know its Nature: whether greatly born,
The noble Fluid slow Perfection scorn;
And ripe, and finish'd in it self, despise
Subliming Sun-light, and maturing Skies.
Or rather, if the
Sun
's imperfect Beam
Leave it a loose, unripen'd Silver Stream,
A
Fluid Treasure:
Whatsoe'er it be,
It boasts of Uses of a high Degree.
But see the Fact: A
Glassy Tube
prepare,
And from the Vessel pump the grosser Air:
The Bottom let the
Silver Lake
supply,
Obsequious to the Motions of the Sky:
That so, when gath'ring Show'rs in Air depend,
The
fluctuating Metal
may descend.
And when the warmer, sultry Heats advise,
The quick-emerging Liquor may arise,
Possess the
Void,
from ev'ry Distance pass,
And
leave,
and
fill,
all
Spaces
of the
Glass.
The
Tube
thus fix'd; the
Conscious Liquors
tries,
And tells before the Temper of the Skies.
In its bright Face you certainly behold
The distant Winter, and the future
Cold.
For when the mounting
Fluid
upward tends,
And in the Glassy Channel high ascends;
Then comes the Promise of serener Days,
A brighter SUN in purer
Aether
plays;
And laughing Fields confess the Summer Rays.
But if the
Silver Stream
by too great Weight
Swells much, and rises to the top-most Height;
Then fade the wither'd Herbs, the Juices fly,
The Plants grow thirsty, and the Meadows die.
But when the breathing Earth thin Mists exhales,
And murky Smoak depends on heavy Gales,
Or slowly sailing o'er the Surface low'rs,
The Cause, and Nutriment of future Show'rs:
Then from their Height the
pond'rous Liquids
flow;
Sink down, and form a
Silver Lake
below.
Observers
draw not from the
Bittourn
's Play,
Surer Presages of a
weeping Day;
When the
Bird
mounts beyond her common Height,
And in the middle
Aether
shapes her Flight;
Sportful enjoys the misty Clouds, and flings
The dropping Moisture from her flaggy Wings.
But now the
Cold
produces new Effects,
The scatter'd Drops in shining Orbs collects.
Then Fields look green, in fruitful Show'rs the Rain
Soaks the dry Roots, and swells the teeming Grain.
But when the
Streaming Metal
's lucid Weight
Falls deeply down, and loves a lower State;
As if impatient of the Show'ry Skies,
Retires, and, fearful of the Tempest, flies.
That Sight, ye cautious Swains, observe with Skill:
Portentous Sign! and Ominous of Ill!
Soon will the pregnant
Air
her Vapours show;
Winter
come arm'd, and sounding Whirlwinds blow.
But tho' the
Fluid lesser press'd
subsides,
And almost all its Silver Substance hides:
Yet other things beyond their Limits swell,
Streams burst their Banks, and mighty Floods rebel,
In frothy Tides each boiling Deluge raves,
And Seas o'erflow with
mad licentious
Waves.
This wond'rous
Glass
a thousand Truths displays,
And all the Secrets of the Skies betrays.
By this the Face of Heav'n is justly shown;
The
Changes
told, and all the
Seasons
known.
This tells you
when
to trust a lose Attire,
And warns you
when
to hope a Winter Fire.
On this
Prognostic Trav'lers
may rely,
Tho' the Clouds gather, and obscure the Sky,
And threaten Tempests to the doubtful Eye.
Yet if inspecting of the sure
Machine,
The
Glass
deny, and promise it
serene;
Beneath the
hanging Show'r
they safe may go;
And fearless of the Rain the Swain may mow.
This
faithful Glass
the Wrath of Heav'n defies,
Makes Winter pointless, and disarms the Skies:
Frosts, Colds,
and
Tempests,
when by
This
prepar'd,
Fall Innocent, and meet us on our Guard.
MACHINAE GESTICULANTES.
A Dmiranda cano levium spectacula rerum,
Exiguam gentem, & vacuum fine mente popellum;
Quem, non surreptis coeli de fornice flammis,
Innocuâ melior fabricaverat arte Promotheus.
Compita quà risu fervent, glomerátque tumultum
Histrio, delectátque inhiantem scommate turbam;
Quotquot laetitiae studio aut novitate tenentur,
Undique congressi permissa sedilia complent.
Nec confusus honos; nummo subsellia cedunt
Diverso, & varii ad pretium stat copia scamni.
Tandem ubi subtrahitur velamen, lumina passim
Angustos penetrant aditus, quà plurima visum
Fila secant, ne, cùm vacuo datur ore fenestra,
Pervia fraus pateat: mox stridula turba penates
Ingreditur pictos, & moenia squallida fuco.
Hic humiles inter scenas, angustáque claustra,
Quicquid agunt homines, Concursus, Bella, Triumphos,
Ludit in exiguo plebecula parva Theatro.
Sed praeter reliquos incedit HOMUNCIO raucâ
Voce strepens; major subnectit fibula vestem,
Et referunt vivos errantia lumina motus;
In ventrem tumet immodicum; ponè eminet ingens
A tergo gibbus; Pygmaeum territat agmen
Major, & immanem miratur turba Gigantem.
Hic magnâ fretus mole, imparibúsque lacertis
Confisus, gracili jactat convitia vulgo,
Et crebro solvit, lepidum caput, ora cachinno.
Quanquam res agitur solenni seria pompâ,
Spernit sollicitum intractabilis ille tumultum,
Et risu importunus adest, atque omnia turbat.
Nec raro invadit molles, pictámque protervo
Ore petit Nympham, invitóque dat oscula ligno.
Sed comitum vulgus diversis membra fatigant
Ludis, & vario lascivit mobile saltu.
Saepe etiam gemmis rutila, & spectabilis auro,
Lignea gens prodit, nitidisque superbit in ostris.
Nam, quoties festam celebrat sub Imagine lucem,
Ordine composito Nympharum incedit honestum
Agmen, & exigui Proceres, parvique Quirites.
Pygmaeos credas positis mitescere bellis,
Jamque, infensa Gruum temnentes prelia, tutos
Indulgere jocis, tenerisque vacare choreis.
Tales, cùm medio labuntur fidera coelo,
Parvi subsiliunt Lemures, populúsque pusillus
Festivos, rediens sua per vestigia, gyros
Ducit, & angustum crebro pede pulsitat orbem.
Manè patent gressus; hinc fuccos terra feraces
Concipit, in multam pubentia gramina surgunt
Luxuriem, tenerisque virescit circulus herbis.
At non tranquillas nulla abdunt nubila luces,
Saepe gravi surgunt bella, horrida bella, tumultu.
Arma cient truculenta cohors, placidámque quietem
Dirumpunt pugnae; usque adeò insincera voluptas
Omnibus, & mistae castigant gaudia curae.
Jam gladii, tubulique ingesto sulphure foeti,
Protensaeque hastae, fulgentiáque arma, minaeque
Telorum ingentes subeunt; Dant claustra fragorem
Horrendum, ruptae stridente bitumine chartae
Confusos reddunt crepitus, & sibila miscent.
Sternitur omne solum pereuntibus; undique caesae
Apparent turmae, civilis crimina belli.
Sed postquam insanus pugnae deferbuit aestus,
Exuerintque truces animos, jam Marte fugato,
Diversas repetunt artes, curásque priores.
Nec rarò prisci Heroes, quos Pagina sacra
Suggerit, atque olim peperit felicior aetas,
Hic parvâ redeunt specie. Cano ordine cernas
Antiquos prodire, agmen venerabile, Patres.
Rugis sulcantur vultus, prolixáque barbae
Canities mento pendet: sic tarda senectus
TITHONUM minuit, cùm moles tota Cicadam
Induit, in gracilem sensim collecta figuram.
Nunc tamen unde genus ducat, quae dextra latentes
Suppeditet vires, quem poscat turba moventem,
Expediam. Truncos opifex & inutile lignum
Cogit in humanas species, & robore natam
Progeniem telo efformat, nexúque tenaci
Crura ligat pedibus, humerisque accommodat armos,
Et membris membra aptat, & artubus insuit artus.
Tunc habiles addit trochleas, quibus arte pusillum
Versat onus, molique manu famulatus inerti
Sufficit occultos motus, vocémque ministrat.
His structa auxiliis jam machina tota peritos
Ostendit sulcos, duri & vestigia ferri:
Hinc salit, atque agili se sublevat incita motu,
Vocésque emittit tenues, & non sua verba.
Jo. Addison, A.B.
è Coll. Magd. Oxon.
1699.
THE PUPPET-SHOW.
OF Trivial Things I sing surprizing Scenes,
Crowds void of Thought, and Nations in Machines.
A
Race Diminutive;
whose Frames were built
Free from the Sacrilege of antient Guilt;
Who from a better new PROMETHEUS came;
Nor boast the Plunder of Coelestial Flame.
There, where facetious
Andrew
rises high,
And draws the Peopled Street beneath his Eye;
With witty Jests the gaping Crowd derides,
Distorts their Muscles, and fatigues their Sides.
All Sons of Mirth, the Gay, the Curious come,
Enter the
Booth,
and fill the spacious Room.
Not undistinguish'd are the Honours there;
But different Seats their different Prices bear.
At length, when now the
Curtain
mounts on high,
The narrow Scenes are open'd to the Eye;
Where Wire-Partitions twinkle to the Sight,
That cut the Vision, and divide the Light.
Ingenious Artifice! of sure Deceit,
Since naked Prospects would betray the Cheat.
And now the
squeaking Tribe
proceeding roams
O'er painted Mansions, and illustrious Domes.
Within this humble Cell, this narrow Wall,
Assemblies, Battels, Conquests, Triumphs, All
That Human Minds can Act, or Pride survey,
On their low
Stage,
the
Little Nation
play.
But One above the rest distinguish'd stalks;
A
Hero,
who in hoarser Accents talks.
Large is the Buckle that his Vest controuls;
His Mimic Eye with living Motion rowls.
His Belly turgid of enormous Size;
Behind his Back a Bulk of Mountain lies.
Huge, manly, tall, he frights the
Pygmy-Court,
Who fly and wonder at his
Giant-Port.
Audacious
Hero
He; who much relies
On his unequal Arm, and haughty Size.
Of these Superior Gifts and Talents proud,
He mocks and rallies all the
Lesser Crowd:
Scatters his Satire round, and oft provokes
The Croud to Laughter by facetious Jokes.
E'en when some
serious Action
is display'd,
And solemn Pomps in long Procession made,
He
uncontroulable, of Humour rude,
Must with unseasonable Mirth intrude:
Scornful he grins upon their
Tragic Rage,
And disconcerts the
Fable
of the
Stage.
Sometimes the graceless Wight with saucy Air,
Makes rude Approaches to the
painted Fair.
The
Nymph
retires, he scorns to be withstood,
And forces Kisses on th'
unwilling Wood.
Not so his Fellows of inferior Parts,
They please the Theatre with
various
Arts,
Lascivious Sport, in circling Turns advance,
And tire their little Limbs in active Dance.
Sometimes the
Wooden People
you behold,
Attir'd in rich Array of figur'd Gold:
Rows of dissembled Jewels blaze around,
And Robes of
Tyrian
Purple stain the Ground.
For when their Tribes in Pageantry display
The Mimic Grandeur of some
Solemn Day,
The painted
Nymphs
proceed a comely Train,
In Order just, and brighten all the Plain.
Nobles
of Stature small attract the Eyes,
And last the
Commons
of an humbler Size.
The pleas'd Spectator, as these Scenes he views,
The
Pygmy-Nation
in his Mind renews:
He fancies now the
Cranes
Invasions cease;
Their warlike Souls are soften'd by a Peace,
And now secure in guiltless Sports they play,
Laugh down the
Sun,
and dance away the Day.
Thus, when the
Stars
obtain their Midnight Sphere,
A Race like these of
Human Form
appear;
The
Fairy Train,
that dancing in the Dark,
Return in Circles, and their Footsteps mark:
The merry Goblins, constant to the Round,
In measure trip, and beat the hallow'd Ground.
The Morn betrays the
Print.
The fruitful Earth
From hence teems pregnant with a juicy Birth,
Luxuriant Growths of bolder Grass are seen,
That rise in
Circles
of a deeper
Green.
Yet O! some Clouds obscure their peaceful Days,
Wars, horrid Wars,
disastrous Tumults raise.
The Joys of Peace are broke by rough Alarms,
Their Troops breath Slaughter, and prepare for Arms.
So insincere is mortal Bliss! so sure
Care blends our Joys, and makes them all impure!
Now Swords, and warring Arms the Prospect mar,
Protended Spears that glitter from afar,
And sulph'rous Tubes; dread Equipage of War.
The Din of Fight begins; a direful Sound
Flies thro' the Dome, and shakes the Walls around,
From the burst Volumes sputt'ring Sulphurs tost
Promiscuous Hiss, and Sounds in Sounds are lost.
Confusion reigns; the Field of War bespread,
Reveals, unhappy View! her Heaps of Dead:
Thick on all Hands, extended on the Stage,
Slain Troops appear,
the Guilt of Civil Rage.
But when they have allay'd their Martial Ire,
And their calm Spirits breath a sober Fire;
The War concluded. They resume their Parts,
Repeat their former Toils, and various Arts.
Now oft the
Heroes of the Sacred Page;
Great Souls! the Product of a better Age,
Redeem'd and rescu'd from the
silent
Urn,
On this low Stage in Miniature return.
There may you see a venerable Band
Of Patriarch-Sires in hoary Order stand;
Their Faces furrow'd, as they once appear'd,
And their Chins cloath'd with Silver Lengths of Beard.
So, long consuming Age, from Day to Day,
Contracted TITHON by a slow Decay.
From wasting Stage to Stage he gradual past,
And sunk into a
Grashopper
at last.
Now sing we, whence the
Puppet-Actors
came,
What hidden Power supplies the hollow Frame;
What cunning Agent o'er the Scenes presides,
And all the secret Operation glides.
The
Turner
shapes the useless Log with Care,
And forces it a Human Form to wear:
With the sharp Steel he works the
Wooden Race,
And lends the Timber an adopted
Face.
Tenacious Wires the
Legs and Feet
unite,
And Arms connected keep the
Shoulders
right.
Adapted Organs to fit Organs join,
And Joints with Joints, and Limbs with Limbs combine.
Then adds he active Wheels and Springs unseen,
By which he artful turns the small Machine,
That moves at Pleasure by the secret Wires;
And last his Voice the senseless Trunk inspires.
From such a Union of Inventions came,
And to Perfection grew the Puppet Frame;
The Workman's Mark its Origin reveal,
And own the Traces of the forming Steel.
Hence are its Dance, its Motions, and its Tone,
Its squeaking Voice, and Accents not its own.
THE RESURRECTION: A POEM.
Venient cito Saecula, cum jam
Socius Calor ossa revisat,
Animataque Sanguine vivo
Habitacula pristina gestet.
Prud.
The FOURTH EDITION.
THE PREFACE.
T HE following Lines are esteemed by the best Judges to be the finest Sketch of the
Resurrection,
that any Age or Language has produced: Nor do their only Excellence consist in being an accurate
Poem;
but also in being an exact Copy of the Painter's Original upon the
Altar
in
Magdalen College;
but so much improved with all the strongest Figures and most lively Embellishments of a Poetical Description, that the
Reader
receives a double Satisfaction in seeing the two Sister-Arts so useful to each other, in borrowing mutual Helps, and mutual Advantages.
It is, indeed, wonderful to find in the narrow Compass of so few Pages all the most dreadful Circumstances of that last terrible Crisis of Time: The
Poem
is a beautiful and succinct
Epitome
of all that has or can ever be said on that important Subject; the very Text, which the ingenious Mr.
Young
has so largely and elegantly paraphras'd upon, in his excellent Poem on the LAST DAY.
Mr.
Addison
is to be distinguish'd thro' all his Performances both
Latin
and
English
(and in his
Latin,
particularly in the following one, and that on the Peace of
Reswick,
) by the Strength of his Images, and by a forcible and unaffected Vivacity of Expression, which none of our Moderns have attain'd to in so much Perfection; and which is very rarely to be met with even in any of the Antients since
Virgil
and
Horace.
Having mention'd Mr.
Addison,
I cannot avoid congratulating my Country on his Preferment to one of her greatest Civil Employments; nor forbear observing how happy we are in a KING, who has shown the World that he will distribute his Favours amongst those only, whom Merit and Virtue shall recommend to his Service.
With what uncommon Lustre must that Man appear to Posterity, who is not only the best Writer, and most candid Patron of the Age he lives in; but also the finest Gentleman, the sincerest Friend, the most affectionate Husband, the most accomplish'd Statesman, and the most exemplary Christian? Under every one of these Views Mr.
Addison
gains the Esteem and Admiration even of the bitterest Enemies to that Cause which he so warmly espouses, of the most furious Partisans, and the most prejudic'd of Mankind.
I must forbear to enlarge any farther on the Character of that truly great and good Man, lest I draw upon my self the Imputation of a Flatterer, by relating what all the World (except himself only) will allow to be the severest Truth.
I shall make no Excuse for offering the following Poem to the World in an
English
DRESS, and under all the Disadvantages of an imperfect Translation. I have often read it in the Original with the greatest Pleasure and Satisfaction; and I hope it will need no Apology to be willing to communicate so useful and sublime an Entertainment, in the best manner I can, to those of my Fellow-Subjects who are not qualify'd to read it in the
Latin
Original.
RESURRECTIO DELINEATA
Ad Altare Coll. Magd.
Oxon.
E Gregios fuci tractus, calamique labores,
Surgentesque hominum formas, ardentiáque ora
Judicis, & simulacra modis pallentia miris,
Terribilem visu pompam, Tu Carmine Musa
Pande novo, vatique sacros accende furores.
Olim Planitiem (quam nunc foecunda colorum
Insignit Pictura) inhonesto & simplice cultu
Vestiit albedo, sed nè rima ulla priorem
Agnoscat faciem, mox fundamenta futurae
Substravit Pictor tabulae, humorémque sequacem
Per muros traxit; velamine moenia crasso
Squallent obducta, & rudioribus illita fucis.
Utque (polo nondum stellis fulgentibus apto)
Nè spatio moles immensa dehiscat inani,
Per cava coelorum, & convexa patentia latè
Hinc atque hinc interfusus fluitaverat Aether;
Mox radiante novum torrebat lumine mundum
Titan, & pallens alienos mitiùs ignes
Cynthia vibrabat; crebris nunc consitus astris
Scintillare polus, nunc fulgor Lacteus omne
Diffluere in Coelum, longóque albescere tractu.
Sic, operis postquam lusit primordia Pictor,
Dum sordet paries, nullúmque fatetur Apellem,
Cautiùs exercet Calamos, atque arte tenacem
Confundit viscum, succósque attemperat, omnes
Inducit tandem formas; apparet ubique
Muta cohors, & Picturarum vulgus inane.
Aligeris muri vacat ora suprema Ministris,
Sparsáque per totam Coelestis turba Tabellam
Raucos inspirat lituos, buccásque tumentes
Inflat, & attonitum replet clangoribus orbem.
Defunctis sonus auditur, tabulámque per imam
Picta gravescit humus, terris emergit apertis
Progenies rediviva, & plurima surgit imago.
Sic, dum foecundis Cadmus dat semina sulcis,
Terra tumet praegnans, animatáque gleba laborat,
Luxuriatur ager segete spirante, calescit
Omne solum, crescitque virorum prodiga messis.
Jam pulvis varias terrae dispersa per oras,
Sive inter venas teneri concreta metalli,
Sensim diriguit, seu sese immiscuit herbis,
Explicita est; molem rursùs coalescit in unam
Divisum funus, sparsos prior alligat artus
unctura, aptanturque iterum coëuntia membra.
Hic nondum specie perfecta resurgit imago,
Vultum truncata, atque inhonesto vulnere nares
Manca, & adhuc deest informi de corpore multum.
aulatim in rigidum hic vita insinuata cadaver
otu aegro vix dum redivivos erigit artus.
ficit his horror vultus, & imagine totâ
usa per attonitam pallet formido figuram.
Detrahe quin oculos Spectator, &, ora nitentem
poterint perferre diem, medium inspice murum,
Quâ sedet orta Deo proles, Deus ipse, sereno
umine perfusus, radiisque inspersus acutis.
rcum tranquillae funduntur tempora flammae,
egius ore vigor spirat, nitet Ignis ocellis,
urimáque effulget Majestas Numine toto.
Quantùm dissimilis, quantùm ô! mutatus ab illo,
Qui peccata luit cruciatus non sua, vitam
Quando luctantem cunctatâ morte trahebat!
Sed frustrà voluit defunctum Golgotha Numen
Condere, dum victâ fatorum lege triumphans
Nativum petiit coelum, & super aethera vectus
Despexit Lunam exiguam, Solémque minorem.
Jam latus effossum, & palmas ostendit utrasque,
Vulnúsque infixum pede, clavorúmque recepta
Signa, & transacti quondam vestigia ferri.
Umbrae hùc felices tendunt, numerosáque coelos
Turba petunt, atque immortalia dona capessunt.
Matres, & longae nunc reddita corpora vitae
Infantûm, Juvenes, Pueri, innuptaeque Puellae
Stant circùm, atque avidos jubar immortale bibentes
Affigunt oculos in Numine; laudibus aether
Intonat, & laeto ridet coelum omne triumpho.
His Amor impatiens conceptáque gaudia mentem
Funditùs exagitant, imóque in pectore fervent.
Non aequè exultat flagranti corde Sibylla,
Hospite cùm tumet incluso, & praecordia sentit
Mota Dei stimulis, nimióque calentia Phoebo.
Quis tamen ille novus perstringit lumina fulgor?
Quam Mitrâ effigiem distinxit Pictor, honesto
Surgentem è tumulo, alatoque Satellite fultam?
Agnosco faciem, vultu later alter in illo.
WAINFLETUS, sic ille oculos, sic ora ferebat:
heu quando animi par invenietur Imago!
Quando alium similem virtus habitura!—
ati innocuas securus Numinis iras
spicit, impavidósque in Judice figit ocellos.
Quin age, & horrentem commixtis igne tenebris
am videas scenam; multo hic stagnantia fuco
oenia, flagrantem liquefacto sulphure rivum
ingunt, & falsus tantâ arte accenditur Ignis,
Ut toti metuas tabulae, ne flamma per omne
ivida serpat opus, tenuésque absumpta recedat
ictura in cineres, propriis peritura favillis.
ùc turba infelix agitur, turpisque videri
frendet dentes, & rugis contrahit ora.
index à tergo implacabile saevit, & ensem
ulmineum vibrans acie flagrante scelestos
m Paradiseis iterum depellit ab oris.
eu! quid agat tristis? quò se coelestibus iris
ubtrahat? ô! quantùm vellet nunc aethere in alto
irturem colere! at tandem suspiria ducit
Nequicquam, & serò in lacrymas effunditur; obstant
rtes non revocandae, & inexorabile Numen.
Quàm varias aperit veneres Pictura! periti
Quot calami legimus vestigia! quanta colorum
Gratia se profert! tales non discolor Iris
Ostendat, vario cùm lumine floridus imber
Rore nitet toto, & guttâ scintillat in omni.
O fuci nitor, ô pulchri durate colores!
Nec, Pictura, tuae languescat gloria formae,
Dum lucem videas, qualem exprimis ipsa, supremam.
Jo. Addison, A.B.
è Coll. Magd. Oxon.
1699.
F
ller Pinxit ad Alt: Coll: Magd: Oxon: Delin Mburg. sculpt. Univ.
THE RESURRECTION: A POEM.
THE Pencil's glowing Lines and vast Command,
And Mankind rising from the Painter's Hand,
The awful Judge array'd in beamy Light,
And Spectres trembling at the dreadful Sight,
To sing, O Muse, the pious Bard inspire,
And waken in his Breast the Sacred Fire.
The hallow'd Field, a bare white Wall of late,
Now cloath'd in gaudy Colours, shines in State;
And lest some little Interval confess
Its antient simple Form, and homely Dress;
The skilful Artist laid o'er every Part
The first Foundation of his future Art:
O'er the wide Frame his ductile Colours led,
And with strong Primings all the Wall o'erspread.
As e'er yon spangling Orbs were hung on high,
Lest one great Blank should yawn thro' boundless Sky,
Thro' the wide heavenly Arch and trackless Road
In Azure Volumes the pure
Aether
flow'd;
The
Sun
at length burns out, intensely bright,
And the pale
Crescent
sheds her borrow'd Light.
With thick-sown Stars the radiant
Pole
is crown'd,
Of milky Glories a long Tract is found,
O'erflows, and whitens all the Heav'ns around.
So when the Ground-work of the Piece was laid,
Nor yet the Painter had his Art display'd,
With slower Hand, and Pencil more divine,
He blends each Colour, heightens ev'ry Line;
Till various Forms the breathing Picture wears,
And a mute
Groupe
of Images appears.
Celestial Guards the topmost height attend,
And Crouds of Angels o'er the Wall descend;
With their big Cheeks the deaf'ning Clarions wind,
Whose dreadful Clangors startle all Mankind:
Ev'n the Dead hear; the lab'ring Graves conceive,
And the swoln Clod in Picture seems to heave:
Ten thousand Worlds revive to better Skies,
And from their Tombs the thronging Coarses rise.
So when fam'd
Cadmus
sow'd the fruitful Field,
With pregnant Throws the quicken'd Furrow swell'd:
From the warm Soil sprung up a warlike Train,
And Human Harvests cover'd all the Plain.
And now from ev'ry Corner of the Earth
The scatter'd Dust is call'd to second Birth;
Whether in Mines it form'd the rip'ning Mass,
Or humbly mix'd, and flourish'd in the Grass.
The sever'd Body now unites again,
And kindred Atoms rally into Men:
The various Joints resume their antient Seats,
And ev'ry Limb its former Task repeats.
Here an imperfect Form returns to Light,
Not half renew'd, dishonest to the Sight;
Maim'd of his Nose appears his blotted Face,
And scarce the Image of a Man we trace.
Here by Degrees infus'd, the vital Ray
Gives the first Motion to the panting Clay:
Slow to new Life the thawing Fluids creep,
And the stiff Joints wake heavily from Sleep.
Here on the guilty Brow pale Horrors glare,
And all the Figure labours with
Despair.
From Scenes like these now turn thy wond'ring Sight,
And if thou canst withstand such Floods of Light,
Look! where thy SAVIOUR fills the middle Space,
The SON of GOD, true Image of his Face,
Himself eternal GOD, e'er Time began her Race.
See! what mild Beams their gracious Influence shed,
And how the pointed Radiance crowns his Head!
Around his Temples lambent Glories shine,
And on his Brow sits Majesty Divine;
His Eye-balls lighten with Celestial Fires,
And ev'ry Grace to speak the God conspires.
But ah! how chang'd, ah! how unlike the same
From Him, who patient wore the Mortal Frame;
Who thro' a Scene of Woes drew painful Breath,
And struggled with a sad, slow, long-drawn Death:
Who gave on
Golgotha
the dreadful Groan,
Bearer of other's Sins, and Suff'rings not his own.
But Death and Hell subdu'd, the Deity
Ascends Triumphant to his native Sky;
And rising far above th' Aethereal Height,
The Sun and Moon diminish to his Sight.
And now to View he bare'd his bleeding side,
And his pierc'd Hands and Feet, in Crimson dy'd;
Still did the Nails the recent Scars reveal,
And bloody Tracks of the transfixing Steel.
Hither in Crouds the
Blessed
shape their Flight,
And throng the Mansions of immortal Light;
The menial
Twelve,
The
Apostles,
as thus describ'd, are painted on the
Altar,
tho' not mention'd in Mr.
Addison
's
Latin
Poem.
an ever faithful Band,
Around their
Master
sit on either Hand;
Each
Martyr-Saint
in Glory shines confest,
Immortal Pleasures rushing to his Breast;
Sees Worlds up-rising from the silent Tomb
To final Judgment and eternal Doom;
They mark each fatal Word, each dreadful Nod;
And bless the Righteous Sentence of their GOD.
The fruitful Matron and the spotless Maid,
And Infants, with a longer Life repaid,
Stand round; and drinking in Celestial Rays,
On their REDEEMER fix with ardent Gaze,
And all the Heav'ns resound with Hymns of Praise.
Each Bosom kindles with Seraphic Joy,
And conscious Extacies the Soul employ.
Not equal Raptures swell the
Sybil
's Breast,
When by the inmate Deity possess'd;
When
Phoebus
the Prophetic Maid inspires,
And her Limbs tremble with convulsive Fires.
But whence this sudden Blaze of dazling Light!
What Mitred Brow is that, which greets my Sight?
Forth from a stately Tomb I see him Rise,
And mount with Guards of Angels to the Skies.
I know the Form—alike the Look and Mien,
Another WAINFLET
William Wainflet,
Bishop of
Winchester.
He was the Founder of
Magdalen College,
and the
Hall
adjoining.
in his Face is seen.
When will, alas! such spotless Worth be found?
When will a Mind with equal Virtues crown'd?
Fearless he sees Almighty Vengeance rise,
And fixes on his GOD his guiltless Eyes.
But now far different Scenes our Wonder claim,
Horrent with Darkness and Malignant Flame;
The labour'd Wall delusive Picture hides,
And liquid Sulphur rolls in burning Tides:
So strong, so fierce, the painted Flames arise,
The pale Spectator views them with Surprize:
Believes the blazing Wall indeed to burn,
And fears the Frame should into Ashes turn.
Hither in ghastly Crouds the Guilty haste,
Obscene with Horror, and with Shame defac'd:
With haggard Looks the gloomy Fiends appear,
They gnash their foamy Teeth, and frown severe.
A stern
Avenger
with relentless Mind,
Waving a flamy Faulchion, stalks behind;
With which, as once from Paradise he drove,
He drives the Sinner from the Joys above.
What shall he do forlorn? or whither fly,
To shun the Ken of an All-seeing Eye?
What would he give among the Just to shine,
And fall before Omnipotence Divine?
But oh! too late in Sighs he vents his Woe,
Too late his Eyes with gushing Tears o'erflow!
Vain are his Sighs, and fruitless are his Tears,
Vengeance and Justice stop th'
Almighty
's Ears.
See! with what various Charms the Piece is fraught,
And with what pregnant Marks of Judgment wrought!
With how much Grace the living Colours glow!
Not brighter Colours paint the watry Bow;
When the fresh Show'rs her various Lustre share,
And ev'ry Drop with Spangles decks the Air.
O! may the Painter's Labours never fade,
Nor wasteful Time their shining Charms invade,
No envious Darkness shade the beauteous Tints,
Till the Piece sees the LAST GREAT DAY it Paints.
SPHAERISTERIUM.
H IC, ubi graminea in latum sese explicat aequor
Planities, vacuóque ingens patet area campo,
Cùm solem nondum fumantia prata fatentur
Exortum, & tumidae pendent in gramine guttae,
Improba falx noctis parva incrementa prioris
Desecat, exiguam radens à cespite messem:
Tum motu assiduo saxum versatile terram
Deprimit extantem, & surgentes atterit herbas.
Lignea percurrunt vernantem turba palaestram
Uncta, nitens oleo, formae quibus esse rotundae
Artificis ferrum dederat, facilisque moveri.
Nè tamen offendant incauti errore globorum,
Quaeque suis incisa notis stat sphaera; sed unus
Hanc vult, quae infuso multùm inclinata metallo
Vertitur in gyros, & iniquo tramite currit;
Quin alii diversa placet, quam parciùs urget
Plumbea vis, motúque sinit procedere recto.
Postquàm ideò in partes turbam distinxerat aequas
Confilium, aut sors: quisque suis accingitur armis.
Evolat Orbiculus, quae cursum meta futurum
Defignat; jactique legens vestigia, primam,
Qui certamen init, sphaeram demittit, at illa
Leniter effusa, exiguum quod ducit in Orbem,
Radit iter, donec sensim primo impete fesso
Subsistat; subitò Globus emicat alter & alter.
Mox ubi funduntur latè agmina crebra minorem
Sparsa per Orbiculum, stipántque frequentia metam,
Atque negant faciles aditus; jam cautiùs exit,
Et leviter sese insinuat revolubile lignum.
At si fortè globum, qui misit, spectat inertem
Serpere, & impressum subitò languescere motum,
Ponè urget Sphaerae vestigia, & anxius instat,
Objurgátque moras, currentique imminet orbi.
Atque ut segnis honos dextrae servetur, iniquam
Incusat terram, ac surgentem in Marmore nodum.
Nec risus tacuere, globus cùm volvitur actus
Infami jactu, aut nimium vestigia Plumbum
Allicit, & Sphaeram à recto trahit insita virtus.
Tum qui projecit, strepitus effundit inanes,
Et, variam in speciem distorto corpore, falsos
Increpat errores, & dat convitia ligno.
Sphaera sed, irarum temnens ludibria, coeptum
Pergit iter, nullisque movetur surda querelis.
Illa tamen laudes summúmque meretur honorem,
Quae non dirumpit cursum, absistitque moveri,
Donec turbam inter crebram dilapsa supremum
Perfecit stadium, & metae inclinata recumbit.
Hostis at haerentem Orbiculo detrudere Sphaeram
Certat, luminibúsque viam signantibus omnes
Intendit vires, & missile fortiter urget:
Evolat adducto non segnis Sphaera lacerto.
Haud ita profiliens Elëo carcere pernix
Auriga invehitur, cùm raptus ab axe citato
Currentésque domos videt, & fugientia tecta.
Si tamen in duros, obstructa Satellite multo,
Impingant socios, confundátque orbibus orbes;
Tum fervit bilis, fortunam damnata cerbam,
Atque Deos atque astra vocat crudelia.—
Si verò incursus faciles, aditúmque patentem
Inveniat, partóque hostis spolietur honore:
Turba fremit confusa, sonisque frequentibus, Euge,
Exclamant Socii; plausu strepit omne Viretum.
Intereà fessos inimico Sirius astro
Corripit, & salsas exudant corpora guttas;
Lenia jam Zephyri spirantes frigora, & umbrae
Captantur, vultúque fluens abstergitur humor.
Jo. Addison, A.B.
è Coll. Magd. Oxon.
1699.
THE BOWLING-GREEN.
WHere smooth and level as the Summer Main,
A spacious
Area
opens on the Plain;
While with descending Dews the Herbage sweats,
Nor feels the rising
Sun
's intenser Heats,
The sharpen'd
Scythe
prevents the grassy Height,
And reaps the scanty Harvest of the Night:
The rolling Stone renews its Morning Round,
To crush the springing Turf, and sink the knotty Ground.
And now the polish'd Globes, a num'rous Band,
Prepar'd for Motion by the Artist's Hand;
Glitt'ring with Oil, and splendid to the Sight,
O'er the soft, verdant Surface speed their Flight.
But least some Bowler should his
Cast
disown,
By diff'rent Marks the diff'rent Orbs are known:
For Gamesters vary; some prefer the Bowl,
That byass'd wheels obliquely to the Goal:
While others will a diff'rent Choice approve
Of those, which in a Line directly move.
The chosen Numbers part on either side,
As, or Consent, or doubtful Lots divide:
Each Chief assumes his Arms; when now behold
The
Jack
exulting o'er the Surface roll'd;
At which their missive Orbs the Bowlers aim,
And who arrives the nearest, wins the Game.
The Leader poises in his Hand the Bowl,
And gently launches to the distant Goal:
The current Orb prolongs its circling Course,
Till by Degrees it loses all its Force.
When now another o'er the Level bounds,
And Orb succeeding Orb the
Block
surrounds:
Scatter'd they lie, and barricade the Green,
That scarce a single Bowl can pass between.
When now with better Skill, and nicer Care,
The dext'rous Youth renews the Wooden War,
Beyond the rest his winding Timber flies,
And works insinuating, and wins the Prize.
But if perchance he sees, with Madness stung,
The lagging Wood move impotent along;
If its faint Motion languish on the way,
And, short of Length, it press the verdant Lay:
Nimbly he strides behind a-cross the Grass,
And bending hovers o'er the rolling Mass;
Least foul Disgrace should on his Arm redound,
He blames the Rising-Rub and guilty Ground.
What sudden Laughter echoes o'er the Green,
When some unlucky, artless
Cast
is seen;
When the too pond'rous Lead with stubborn Force
Allures the Globe from its appointed Course?
The Bowler chafes, and fruitless Rage ensues,
His Body to a Thousand Postures screws:
He blames he knows not what, with angry Blood,
He frets, he stamps, and damns th' erroneous Wood:
Th' erroneous Wood his fruitless Rage disdains,
And still its former, wayward Course maintains.
But if a Bowl, dismiss'd with equal Strength,
Obtains exactly the intended Length,
And, nicely passing thro' the crouding Balls,
Prone on the passive
Jack
incumbent falls:
With loud Applause the splitting Heav'ns they rend,
And all the
Caster
and the
Cast
commend.
When now the adverse Foe projects around
His careful Eyes, and marks the ambient Ground:
And, studious the contiguous Globes to part,
He summons all his Strength and all his Art;
Th' exerted Vigour of his Nerves applies,
And rapid from his Arm the brandish'd Engine flies.
Scarce half so swiftly to th'
Elëian
Goal
With rival Speed the whirling Chariots roll;
While the fleet Axle mocks the lagging Wind,
And leaves the flying Village far behind.
When, if the Wooden Guards immure the Foe,
And break the Vengeance of the whirling Blow;
If the conflicting Orbs are driv'n around,
And, loosely scatter'd, strew th' Olympic Ground:
He chides his Fate, his fervid Spleen boils high,
Calls the
Gods
false, and Damns the guilty Sky.
But if his Bowl with easy Passage slide,
And with a Clash the wedded Orbs divide;
His Partners shout, the Croud espouse his Cause,
And the wide Plain re-murmurs with Applause.
Mean while the
Dog-Star
burns with sultry Heat,
And ev'ry Limb is drown'd in briny Sweat:
They court the shady Breeze, and cool of Day,
And from their Temples wipe the trickling Drops away.
PAX GULIELMI AUSPICIIS
Europae reddita,
1697.
HONORATISSIMO VIRO CAROLO MONTAGUE ARMIGERO, SCACCHARII CANCELLARIO, AERARII PRAEFECTO, REGI à SECRETIORIBUS CONSILIIS, &c.
C UM tanta auribus tuis obstrepat vatum nequissimorum turba, nihil est cur queraris aliquid inusitatum tibi contigisse, ubi praeclarum hoc argumentum meis etiam numeris violatum conspexeris. Quantum virtute bellicâ praestent Britanni, recens ex rebus gestis testatur gloria; quàm verò in humanioribus Pacis studiis non emineamus, indicio sunt quos nuper in lucem emisimus versiculi. Quòd si CONGREVIUS ille tuus divino, quo solet, furore correptus materiam hanc non exornâsset, vix tanti esset ipsa Pax, ut illâ laetaremur tot perditissunis Poëtis tam miserè decantatâ. At, dum alios insector, mei ipsius oblitus fuisse videor, qui haud minores forsan ex Latinis tibi molestias allaturus sum, quàm quas illi ex vernaculis suis carminibus attulerunt; nisi quòd inter ipsos cruciatus lenimentum aliquod dolori tribuat tormenti varietas. Nec quidem unquam adduci possem, ut poëma patrio sermone conscriptum oculis tuis subjicerem, qui ab istis conatibus caeteros omnes scribendo non minùs deterres, quàm favendo excitaveris.
HUMANITATIS TUAE CULTOR DEVOTISSIMUS, JOSEPHUS ADDISON.
PAX GULIELMI AUSPICIIS
Europae reddita,
1697.
P Ostquam ingens clamórque virûm, strepitús
que
tubarum,
Atque omnis belli cecidit fragor; Aspice, Caesar,
Quae tibi solliciti, turba importuna, Poëtae
Munera deducunt: generosae à pectore flammae,
Diraeque armorum effigies, simulachráque belli
Tristia diffugiant: O tandem absiste triumphis
Expletus, penitúsque animo totum excute Martem.
Non ultràe ante oculos numeroso milite campi
Miscentur, solito nec fervent arva tumultu;
Stat circùm alta quies, curvóque innixus aratro
Desertas fossas, & castra minantia castris
Rusticus invertit, tacitâ formidine lustrans
Horrorémque loci, & funestos stragibus agros.
Jamque super vallum & munimina longa virescit
Expectata seges, jam propugnacula rident
Vere novo; insuetos mirabitur incola culmos,
Luxuriemque soli, & turgentem à sanguine messem.
Aspicis ut toto excitus venit Advena mundo
Bellorum invisens sedem, & confusa ruinis
Oppida, & eversos flammarum turbine muros!
Ut trepidos rerum Annales, tristemque laborum
Inquirit seriem, attonitis ut spectat ocellis
Semirutas turres, & adhuc polluta cruore
Flumina, famosósque ORMONDI vulnere campos!
Hîc, ubi saxa jacent disperso infecta cerebro,
Atque interruptis hiscunt divortia muris,
Vexillum intrepidus (
Honoratissimus D. Dominus CUTTS Baro de Gowran, &c.
) fixit, cui tempora dudum
Budenses palmae, Peregrináque laurus obumbrat.
Ille ruens aciem in mediam, quà ferrea grando
Sparsa furit circùm, & plumbi densissimus imber,
Sulphuream noctem, tetrásque bitumine nubes
Ingreditur, crebróque rubentem fulgure fumum.
Ut vario anfractu, & disjectis undique saxis
Moenia discedunt, scopulisque immane minantur
Desuper horrificis, & formidabile pendent!
Hîc pestem occultam, & foecundas sulphure moles
Cernere erat, magno quas inter mota tumultu
Praelia fervebant; subitò cùm claustra, fragore
Horrendùm disrupta tonant, semiustáque membra,
Fumantésque artus, laniatáque corpora lethum
Corripit informe, & rotat ater in aethere turbo.
Sic, postquam Enceladi dejecit fulmine fratres
Coelicolûm pater, & vetuit contemnere Divos:
Divulsam terrae faciem, ingentésque ruinas
Mortales stupuere; altum hinc mirantur abesse
Pelion, invertique imis radicibus Ossam;
Hîc fluvium moles inter confusáque saxa
Reptare, atque aliis discentem currere ripis.
Stant dubii, & notos montes umbrásque requirunt,
Errore ambiguo elusi, & novitate locorum.
Nempe hîc AURIACI nuper vexilla secutae
Confluxere acies, hîc, aspera corda, Britanni,
Germanúsque ferox, & juncto foedere Belga,
Quique truci Boreae, & coelo damnatus iniquo
Vitam agit in tenebris, & qui dudum ore perusto
Decolor admoti prodit vestigia Phoebi,
Undique conveniunt, totum conscripta per orbem
Agmina, N
ssovique latus socialibus armis
Circumfusa tegunt, fremitúsque & murmura miscent,
Tam vario disjuncta situ, tot dissona linguis.
Te tamen è mediis, (
Intellig. Insig. Dom. Christoph. Codrington, unus ex Regii Satellitii Praefectis.
) Ductor Fortissime, turmis
Exere, Tu vitam (si quid mea carmina possunt)
Accipies, populique encomia sera futuri,
Quem varias edoctum artes, studiisque Minervae
Omnibus ornatum Marti Rhedycina furenti
Credidit invita, & tanto se jactat Alumno.
Hunc nempe ardorem, atque immensos pectoris aestus
Non jubar Arctoum, aut nostri penuria coeli,
Sed plaga torridior, quà sol intentiùs omnes
Effundit radios, totique obnoxia Phoebo
India progenuit, tenerisque incoxit ab annis
Virtutem immodicam, & generosae incendia mentis.
Jam quoque torpentem qui infelix suspicit Arcton,
Brumámque aeternam frigúsque perambulat, ursae
Horridus exuviis, GULIELMI ingentia facta
Describit sociis, pugnatáque in ordine bella
Attentus numerat, neque brumam aut frigora curat.
En! vastos nivium tractus & pallida regna
Deserit, imperio extremum (
Muscoviae Imperator.
) Qui subjicit orbem,
Indigenásque hyemes, Britonúmque Heroa pererrat
Luminibus tacitis; subeunt nunc fusa Namurcae
Moenia, nunc tardo quae sanguine plurima fluxit
Boinia, nunc dubii palma indiscreta Seneffi.
Quae facies & quanta viri! Quo vertice in auras
Assurgit! Quali firmat vestigia gressu,
Majestate rudi, & torvo spectabilis ore!
Sic olim Alcides, immania membra Leonis
Instratus spoliis, vastâ se mole ferebat,
Evandri amplexus dextrámque adjungere dextrae
Cum peteret, tectisque ingens succederet hospes.
Dum pugnas, GULIELME, tuas, campósque cruentos
Accipit, in venis ebullit vividus humor,
Corda micant crebrò, & mentem ferit aemulus ardor.
Non jam Riphaeos hostis populabitur agros
Impunè, aut agitabit inultas Sarmata praedas.
Quis tamen ille procul fremitus, Quae murmura vulgi
NASSOVUM ingeminant? video cava littora circùm
Fervere remigibus, subitisque albescere velis.
Anglia solve metus, & inanes mitte querelas,
NASSOVI secura tui, desiste tumentes
Prospicere in fluctus animo suspensa, trucésque
Objurgare notos, tardamque requirere puppim:
Optatus tibi Caesar adest, nec ut ante videbis
Sollicitum belli studiis, fatalia Gallo
Consilia & tacitas versantem in pectore pugnas.
Olli grata Quies & Pax tranquilla verendum
Composuit vultum, lae
ósque afflavit honores.
Ut denso circùm se plurimus agmine miles
Agglomerat lateri, ut patriam veterésque penates
Respicit exultans! juvat ostentare recentes
Ore cicatrices, & vulnera cruda, notásque
Mucronum insignes, afflatáque sulphure membra.
Chara stupet conjux, reducisque incerta mariti
Vestigat faciem; trepidâ formidine proles
Stat procul, & patrios horrescit nescia vultus.
Ille graves casus, duri & discrimina belli
Enumerat, tumidisque instaurat praelia verbis.
Sic, postquam in patriam foecunda heroibus Argo
Phryxêam attulerat pellem, lanámque rigentem
Exposuit Graiis, & tortile velleris aurum,
Navita terrificis infamia littora monstris
Describit, mixto spirantem incendia fumo
Serpentem, vigilésque feras, plaustróque gementes
Insolito tauros, & anhelos igne juvencos.
Te tamen, O quantis GULIELME erepte periclis,
Accipimus reducem, tibi Diva Britannia fundit
Plebémque & Proceres, medias quacunque per urbes
Ingrederis, crebrae consurgunt undique pompae,
Gaudiáque & plausus; mixto ordine vulgus euntem
Circumstat fremitu denso: Tibi Jupiter annum
Seriùs invertit, luces mirata serenas
Rider Hyems, festóque vacat coelum omne triumpho.
Jamque (
Celsissimus Princeps Dux Glocestrensis.
) Nepos tibi parvus adest, laetoque juventae
Incessu, & blando testatur gaudia risu.
Ut Patrius vigor atque elati gratia vultûs
Caesareum spirant, majestatémque verendam
Infundunt puero! ut Mater formosa serenat
Augustam frontem, & sublimia temperat ora!
Agnosco faciem ambiguam, mixtósque parentes.
Ille tuas, GULIELME, acies, & tristia bella,
Pugnásque innocua dudum sub imagine lusit.
Nunc indignanti similis fugitiva pusillae
Terga premit turmae, & falsis terroribus implet,
Sternitque exiguum ficto cognomine Gallum.
Nunc simulat turres, & propugnacula parva
Nominibus signat variis; subitóque tumultu
Sedulus infirmas arces, humilemque Namurcam
Diruit; interea generosae in pectore flammae
Assurgunt sensim juveni, notat ignis honestas
Purpureo fervore genas, & amabilis horror.
Quis tamen Augustae immensas in carmine pompas
Instruet, in luteos ubi vulgo effusa canales
Vina rubent, variátque infectas purpura sordes?
Quis lapsus referet stellarum, & fictile coelum,
Quà laceram ostendunt redolentia compita chartam,
Sulphuris exuvias, tubulosque bitumine cassos?
En procul attonitam video clarescere noctem
Fulgore insolito! ruit undique lucidus imber,
Flagrantèsque hyemes; crepitantia sidera passim
Scintillant, totóque pluunt incendia coelo.
Nec minùs in terris Vulcanus mille figuras
Induit, ignivomásque feras, & fulgida monstra,
Terribiles visu formas! hic membra Leonis
Hispida mentitur, tortisque comantia flammis
Colla quatit, rutilasque jubas; hic lubricus Anguem
Ludit, subsiliens, & multo sibilat igne.
Laetitiam ingentem atque effusa haec gaudia civis
Jam tandem securus agit, positóque timore
Exercet ventos, classémque per ultima mundi
Impunè educit, pelagóque licentiùs errat.
Seu constricta gelu, medrísque horrentia Cancri
Mensibus arva videt; seu turpida malit olenti
Tendere vela noto, quà thurea flamina miscet
Aeolus, & placidis perfundit odoribus auras.
Vos animae illustres heroum, umbraeque recentes,
Quarum trunca jacent & adhuc stillantia crudis
Corpora vulneribus, quibus haec optabilis orbi
Parta quies, nondum NASSOVO abducite vestro
Fida satellitia, at solitis stipate catervis
Ductorem, & tenues circùm diffundite turmas.
Túque MARIA, tuos non unquam oblita Britannos,
O Diva, O patiens magnum expectare maritum,
Ne terris Dominum invideas, quanquam ampliùs illum
Detineant, longámque agitent sub vindice pacem.
Jo. Addison, A.M.
è Coll. Magd. Oxon.
THE PEACE OF
RESWICK.
To the Honourable
Charles Montague,
Esq
Chancellor of the
Exchequer,
First Lord-Commissioner of the TREASURY, and Privy-Councellor to the KING.
S INCE your Ears are continually pester'd by a wretched Set of Poets, you have no Reason to complain of any new Misfortunes happening to you, when you shall find the following noble Subject debas'd by my Numbers. The Honour they have lately acquir'd by their Conquests, plainly shews how much the
English
excell all others in the
Art of War;
but how unequally low we are in the politer Studies of Peace, is evident from the Verses we have lately publish'd.
The
Oxford
Verses on the
Peace.
If your Darling CONGREVE had not exerted his Divine Poetical Fury, with his usual Happiness, in the adorning of this Subject, the PEACE it self had been hardly worth our Joy, since it has been so miserably celebrated by so many vile Poetasters. But while I am blaming others, I may seem forgetful of my self, who perhaps may give you as much trouble in my
Latin Compositions,
as they have before done in their
English,
unless the Variety of the Torment may bring some Mitigation to the Pain you are to suffer. For my part, I never could prevail upon my self to offer you a POEM written in our Native Tongue, since you your self deter all others by your own Compositions from such an Attempt, as much as you excite them by your Favour and Humanity. I am,
SIR,
Your most devoted, humble Servant,
Joseph Addison.
THE PEACE OF
RESWICK.
WHEN now the Tumult of the Battel dies,
No Shouts the Earth, no Trumpets wake the Skies;
Accept, Great Leader, what the
Pious Throng
(Less dreadful Musick, and a softer Song)
To sooth the Vengeance of thy Soul, inspire,
And ease thy Bosom of its restless Fire.
Let Wars no more, all Nature hush'd to rest,
Nor Scenes of Ruin roll within thy Breast;
No Schemes of Death, delightful to thy Eyes,
Swell in thy Thoughts, and charm Thee as they rise:
Already Fam'd, the Chase of Fame give o'er;
Nor, dark with Lawrels, shade thy Brows with more.
No more dire Camps a glitt'ring Horror yield,
Nor swarming Millions hide the crowded Field:
No Shouts or Tumults shake the sounding Plain,
But downy Peace, and solemn Silence reign.
With Furrows now the Peasant all around
Cuts the wide Camp, and turns the Warlike Mound.
Now Rampires dreadful to the Foe descries,
Rising aloft, and threat'ning as
they
rise.
O'er Fields of Death the Waste of War persues,
Sighs the sad Scene, and trembles as he views;
While richer Blades along the Bulwarks wave,
And Greens arise to strew the Warrior's Grave.
Luxuriant Ears the fertile Glebe supplies,
The Harvest bending, where the Hero dies.
See! distant
Worlds
invited from afar
To trace the Ruins of the finish'd War;
Wide gaping Walls, and shatter'd Towers admire,
O'erturn'd in Tempests of tumultuous Fire.
Long Tracks of Death astonish'd they explore,
Now view the Warriors Toil, and now deplore;
While Streams of Blood each Current still distain,
And ORMOND'S Wounds ennoble all the Plain.
Where you steep Rampires rise with Slaughter Red,
Still moist with Gore, and crimson'd with the Dead,
The
The Lord CUTTS, Baron of
Gowran,
&c.
Chief
his Standard fix'd, whose Temples round
Defended
Buda,
with her Lawrels bound.
Thro' thickest Troops he
breaks
his glorious Way,
And Floods of Fire in vain command his Stay.
The bursting Shells aloft, and sweeping Ball,
Around the Hero
unregarded
fall;
While thro' dark Flames he rushes to the Fight,
And Vapours, streak'd with Lengths of ruddy Light.
See threat'ning once, and, dreadful, to behold
A ghastly Breach the yawning Tow'rs unfold;
Amazing still the broken Ruins show,
Enormous hang, and shade the Plain below.
Now treach'rous Caves beneath the Earth are found,
Where Beds of Sulphur swell the cavern'd Ground.
Here mingling Hosts in vain their Courage try,
Guiltless of Death, yet doom'd, alas! to Die.
For lo! the opening Mound asunder flies,
And hurls at once whole Armies to the Skies;
While Limbs of mangled Heroes upward drove,
Shoot from the bursting Earth, and reek above.
The burning Troops abandon'd to Despair,
In Flames ascend, and smoak along the Air.
So when the lifted Arm of angry JOVE
Drives the red Bolt, all flaming from above,
Persues the Foe with Thunder down the Skies,
Nature's sad Ruins all her Sons surprize;
Amaz'd they view her rugged Form, and moan
Great
Pelion
lost, and
Ossa
's Height o'erthrown.
Here Streams o'er craggy Rocks mistake their way,
New Banks design, and thro' new Channels stray;
The wild Confusion all around admire,
Their former Hills, and vanish'd Shades require.
Here, led by WILLIAM'S Fortune and his Fame,
United
Worlds
to guard the Monarch came:
Fair
Belgia
's Sons the hardy
Britons
join,
And Nations nurst beyond the sounding
Rhine;
While faithful
Austria
from her shining Tow'rs
Sends out by Millions her victorious Pow'rs:
With these, the eager
Northern Bands
conspire,
And wanting PHOEBUS' Light, yet boast his Fire.
While swarthy Troops to the great Cause inclin'd,
Forsake the
Day,
and leave
their Sun
behind.
From Climes remote, and distant Skies around,
Close gath'ring Bands the pious KING surround;
By Nature parted, Worlds together join,
Unite the
Frozen Pole,
and burning
Line;
Their Language diff'rent, yet their Swords agree,
All drawn alike for
Freedom,
and for THEE.
And THOU, Great
Colonel
Codrington,
Colonel of the King's Guards.
Chief,
in War a dreaded Name,
Foremost in Dangers, as the first in Fame;
If
Isis
to thy Worth a Life can give,
Thine shall elude the Grave, and ever live!
While Arts and Arms to form thy Youth combine,
And
both
MINERVA'S in each Action shine:
With fond Reluctance
she
resigns her Prize
And gives
Thee
up to Fame with weeping Eyes.
Our
fainty Sun's
too
languid to inspire,
Thy Soul with Vengeance, and thy Breast with Fire.
Thy
sultry India,
where the God of Day
Shoots on the Earth, direct, his burning Ray,
Ripens thy Godlike Vigour, and bestows
A Heat
intense,
as that with which he glows.
From his
kind
Beams thy kindling Ardour came,
Who lent the Spark,
then
nurs'd it to a Flame.
Now Nations whom no Summer Suns beguile,
(Rough with the
shaggy Bear
's enormous Spoil)
Attentive hear the Story of
thy
Fame,
Forget their Clime, and glow at WILLIAM'S Name.
Beneath their Breast, as thy great Battels roul,
Each
feels new Heat, and burns beneath his Pole;
Thy Godlike Deeds each freezing Arm inspire,
And warm'd by Thee,
they
ask no other Fire.
See the
Great Chief,
The
Czar
of
Muscovy.
whose Empires stretch'd around,
Nature alone can shut, and Oceans bound;
Forsake his snowy Realms, his chilling Skies,
And marks the
Hero
with astonish'd Eyes:
His
Eyes
the awful Warrior round explore,
And in his Looks he reads his Battels o'er:
The vast
Idea
carrying to his view
The Forts He
storm'd,
and Millions that He
slew.
Here great
Namur,
and there the
bleeding Boyne,
With Slaughter swell'd, present their numerous slain.
While to
Seneff,
his Thoughts in Raptures run,
Where
both
deserv'd the Palm, which
neither
won.
How great his Mien! what Port his Steps maintain!
Rising he moves, and
Awful
heads the Plain:
Stern Majesty sits low'ring on his Face,
With comely Terror mix'd, and frowning Grace.
So with
Evander,
when His Royal Guest,
(A Lion's curling Mane his Shoulders dress'd)
His Hand in Leagues of holy Friendship joins;
Thus
fierce he looks, and
thus
Majestick shines.
As WILLIAM'S Deeds the
Hero
entertain,
Quick beats his Heart, and swells each bursting Vein:
The Blood more sprightly runs its circling Rounds,
And flaming thro' the Purple Channels Bounds;
The
Britons
Triumphs rising to his view,
He
glows,
He
fights, and seems to Triumph
too:
In Thought elate, He now the Foe distains,
And drives the
Tartar
o'er the
Russian Plains.
But hear! what joyful Shouts at Distance rise,
Break thro' the Air, and doubling fill the Skies;
With WILLIAM'S Name the hollow Shores rebound,
And echoing Vales repeat the
Darling
Sound:
No more
Fair Albion
on the Beach reclin'd,
With Tears augments the Seas, with Sighs the Wind:
Nor chides the envious Gale, and angry Main,
That from her Eyes so long their Bliss detain.
The ling'ring Bark no more creates her Woe,
Which flying o'er the Waves—yet still is slow.
See the vast Fleet the parting Seas divide,
Whitening the Surge, and cuts the foamy Tide;
Arriv'd at last she drops the dashing Oar,
While PEACE, and WILLIAM, land on
Albion
's Shore.
No Battels now within his Bosom roul,
Awake his Rage, and fire the Warrior's Soul:
His Thoughts no longer painting to his Eye
What
Foe
shall Bleed the next, what
Rival
Die.
Soft Passions now, and every milder Grace
Smile
in his Looks, and
smooth
the
Hero's
Face:
No more dread Vengeance reddens at his Eyes,
While in the
melting
KING the Warrior Dies.
See! how their LORD the
British
Youth surrounds,
And prize their Safety scarce above their Wounds.
With comely Scars each Warrior's Bosom red,
Asserts how well he fought, how oft he bled.
To his lov'd Home, as now the Soldier flies,
Joy
swells his Heart, and wets his bubling Eyes.
The trembling Wife explores her Lover's Face,
Still coy, and doubtful of her Lord's Embrace;
Hangs on his Neck, confus'd with mix'd Surprize;
And satisfies
her
Love, before
her
Eyes.
The Infant starting, as the Sire draws near,
Deep in the Mother's Bosom hides his Fear.
He to th' astonish'd Crowd recounting o'er
The Deaths
he
gave, and hardy Toils
he
bore:
His own Exploits, his own full Praises crown,
And pompous Words set off his past Renown.
So when the Ship, with
Argive Heroes
fraught,
Back to her
Greece
the shining Treasure brought;
With wonder All, the burnish'd Prize behold,
Rigid and stiff with Curls of flaming Gold.
Still pale with Fear the Soldier numbers o'er
Dire dreadful Forms that guard the wakeful Shore.
Here Streams of Fire from hissing Serpents rise,
Light the dusk Air, and flash along the Skies.
There glowing
Bulls
no Labours e'er could tame,
Groan at the Wain, and snort a living Flame.
For thy Return what grateful Trophies rise,
What honest Joy o'erflows each
Briton
's Eyes!
To meet thy Fame, from all her joyful Tow'rs,
Thy Isle her Populace, and Nobles pours;
All to their great
Returning
MONARCH kind,
Joy smiles before, and Transport shouts behind.
While mingling Murmurs, and Applauses round,
Delight thy Ear, and please while they confound.
To aid the spreading Pomp thy Heav'ns supply
Uncommon Lustre, and a fairer Sky,
Keep back the Progress of the rolling Year,
While Summer Suns the flow'ry Winter cheer.
Now the lov'd
His Royal Highness
WILLIAM
Duke of
Glocester.
YOUTH in all his Beauty's Pride,
And smiling Bloom adorns the Hero's side.
Each Parent striving with alternate Care,
Divide their Love, to form him Great and Fair;
While in his Looks the Sire commanding lives,
The Goddess smooths the Charms, the Hero gives:
Each manly Feature, and severer Grace,
By Beauty soften'd dies upon his Face:
With diff'rent Glories each the BOY inspire,
One gives the Sweetness, and one lends the Fire.
In Wars already thoughtful to engage,
He acts thy Battels o'er with Mimic Rage;
Here pressing eager on the flying Foe,
His boiling Veins with artful Vengeance glow,
Till from his Arm as swiftly he retires,
Stop'd by his Sword, a fancy'd
Gaul
expires.
There his young Breast, and Courage to inflame,
He builds low Towers, and gives to each their Name.
Namure
's feign'd Walls awhile his Force disdain,
Which falls at last, and, smoaking, hides the Plain:
In Sieges thus his Arm the Youth employs,
Till what his Hand erects, his Sword destroys.
While eager now to reach thy virtuous Fame,
His Bosom hardly bounds the restless Flame:
A rising Red his youthful Cheeks inspires,
And stains his Lillies o'er with purple Fires.
But oh! what Muse an equal Strength supplies
To paint
Augusta
's Triumphs as they rise?
Thro' whose glad Streets the Grape her Juice bestows,
Each sordid Channel purpling where it flows.
What Verse can reach the lighted Orbs on high,
And falling Lustre of the artful Sky?
While Stars of Sulphur thro' Heav'ns-Azure glow,
And fall and smoak from bursting Shells below.
See the fair Night
her
Rival Beams display,
Forget her Shades, and emulate the Day.
Forth from the Clouds the Heaven a
Torrent
pours
Of falling Light, and rains in burning Showers.
While Meteors blazing thro' the Winter Sky,
Trail a long Length of Fire, and crackling Die.
As thus the Spheres with shining Wonders glow,
A Thousand hideous Forms surprize below:
Bright, horrid Monsters, ghastly to the Eye,
In various Shapes the artful Flames bely.
Here
a fierce
Lion
we with Dread admire,
Shake
his
red Mane, and rough with Curls of Fire:
There
dress'd in Flames a slipp'ry
Serpent
slides,
Burns with
feign'd Life,
and hisses as he glides.
Each Subject now while WILLIAM fills the Throne,
Springs with new Life, and calls that Life his own:
To Nature's Bounds their Fleets controul the Main,
No Dangers dread, and every Foe disdain.
Secure
They
wander; and while
He
is kind,
The Sea no Terrors has, no Rage the Wind.
Whether to freezing Climes their Course they hold
O'er Icy Waves, and bound with Summers cold;
Or cross those Oceans, where perfuming Gales,
And Blasts of Incense swell the driving Sails.
Ye
Sacred
SHADES, who from above complain,
Your reeking Wounds the Fields of Death distain;
Still to your Isle your great Assistance lend,
And whom the Warriors sav'd their Ghosts defend.
Let WILLIAM still your kind Protection prove,
His Pride on Earth, and Guardians when above.
And while your Friendship thus survives the Grave,
Your Love secures that Bliss your Courage gave.
And thou, MARIA, whose indulgent Breast
Labours with Wishes for
Britannia
's Rest;
If
Europe
's dawning PEACE a while delay
Thy Lord's Embrace, forgive the Hero's stay;
Till jarring Worlds by HIS Command agree,
In vain recall'd by Empire, and by THEE.
THE TABLE.
AD Insignissimum Virum D. THO. BURNETTUM, Sacrae Theoriae Telluris Autorem.
Page
7
To the Learned Doctor
Thomas Burnett,
Author of
The Theory of the Earth. Page
9
Ad D.D. HANNES, Insignissimum Medicum & Poetam.
Page
17
To Dr.
Hannes,
an eminent Physician and Poet.
Page
19
ΠΥΓΜΑΙΟ-ΓΕΡΑΝΟ-ΜΑΧΙΑ, sive Praelium inter
Pygmaeos
&
Grues
commissum.
Page
25
The Battel of the
Pygmies
and
Cranes. Page
31
BAROMETRI Descriptio.
Page
51
The Barometer: Or, Weather-Glass.
Page
55
Machinae Gesticulantes. Page
63
The Puppet-Show.
Page
67
RESURRECTIO delineata ad Altare Coll. Magd. Oxon.
Page
87
The Resurrection.
Page
95
SPHAERISTERIUM.
Page
109
The Bowling-Green.
Page
113
Pax GULIELMI Auspiciis Europae reddita, 1697.
Page
125
The Peace of
Reswick. Page
139
Mr.
ADDISON
'S DISSERTATION ON THE
Roman
POETS.
Price One Shilling.
AUTHORS Names.
I. Virgil.
II. Lucretius.
III. Ovid.
IV. Statius.
V. Lucan.
VI. Claudian.
VII. Horace.
VIII. Juvenal.
IX. Plautus.
X. Terence.
XI. Seneca.
XII. Martial.
XIII. Catullus.
XIV. Tibullus.
XV. Propertius.
A DISSERTATION Upon the most celebrated
Roman
POETS.
Written originally in LATIN BY
Joseph Addison,
Esq
Made ENGLISH by
CHRISTOPHER HAYES,
Esq
LONDON,
Printed for E. CURLL in
Fleet-street.
MDCCXVIII.
DISSERTATIO DE INSIGNIORIBUS
ROMANORUM
POETIS.
O MNIUM in re Poetica maxime inclaruerunt Romani, & Romanorum VIRGILIUS: Optimae quaeque Regulae huic Arti inservientes non tam Criticorum Praeceptis quam MARONIS exemplo sunt depromendae: Ut ideo de reliquis Heroici Carminis Scriptoribus, recte statuamus Virtutes & Vitia quae apud singulos occurrunt, lectioni conferamus
Virgilianae;
qui, si ullibi defecerit
Bucolicis,
nonnunquam puriorem immiscuit Styli elegantiam quam quae
Pastoribus
conveniat, & saepe grandior sonat Carminum Majestas quam quae tenui avenae consona videatur: Apud quemlibet
Georgicorum
librum inimitabili quadam Sermonis Elegantia Res rusticae explicantur, sed ultimus de
Apum Natura
valde praeter caeteros animum delectat; ubi dum in tenui Argumento procedit Poema, solennem quandam Sententiarum & Verborum Pompam studiose affectet Poeta; Apum ideo Opera
Cyclopum
assimulat Laboribus, nec majori Carminum tumultu AENEAE & TURNI recitat Certamina, quam hasce Insectorum Turmas inter sese depraeliantes. Ubique exiguàe Reipublicae Duces, Populi, Studia, Mores, & tenue illud Imperium quod intra Alvearii Angustias exercetur, venusta nescio qua Carminis Magnificentia exprimuntur: Quin hoc certe in toto Opere praecipue occurrit admirandum, quomodo dum Plantationis, Pastionis, & Agriculturae curas exequitur Poeta, omissis usitatioribus loquendi formulis, materiae tam incultae locutionem Poeticam accommodaret, quomodo ignobiliori depressus Argumento nunquam ad Stylum Plebeium Orationem demiserat; sed tanta undique apparet Locutionum vis, ut multi (quamvis temere)
Georgicos
etiam
Aeneidi
praetulisse non dubitarint; sed in hoc Opere, per Argumentum, non licuit alias Poeseωs Partes praestitisse quam Styli & Descriptionum Elegantiam. Quod ad utrumque attinet, illud sibi proprium semper vendicat MARONIS Pagina, ut quicquid exprimat mira quadam Dulcedine animum ingrediatur, & quod describat melius quam si Oculis subjiciatur, tanquam praesens intueamur.
In Styli puritate proxime accedit LUCRETIUS, cujus Dictio, si obsoletae aliquando Verborum Antiquitati, & Numeris pene solutis agnoscas, illorum Palato qui
Romane
sapiunt, persuavis videatur. In Descriptionibus tamen CLAUDIANO secundus debetur Honos, qui amoenas Rerum Imagines ubique venustissima contexuit Oratione, in hoc solummodo vitiosus, quod fusius quam par est semper expatietur, eosdem Versus diversis exponat Loquendi Modis; in hac Arte sese maxime profecisse satis noverat CLAUDIANUS, de quacunque enim re satagit, assidue semper quaerit quae describenda sunt, imo plurima sumpsit Argumenta quae tota in Descriptionibus occupantur, ut videre est in Praefationibus, in
Idylliis,
in Libris de Raptu PROSERPINAE, de PHAENICE, HISTRICE, TORPEDINE, & plerisque Epigrammatum.
OVIDIUS (ut erat
Aulici
Ingenii Homo) terso quidem & polito Carmine res exhibuit amatorias, in caeteris tamen Operibus istiusmodi occurrit Sermo quali in Triviis uti solent: Ille enim Ingenio suo confisus de operosiori Dictione elaboranda parum erat satis solicitus: In Libro tamen Metamorphoseωs varias optime depinxit Animalium Mutationes, dum prior paulatim exuitur Forma & nova superinducitur.
Utrumque hoc quod jam tractamus Poetis Officium non raro optime praestitit PAPINIUS, LUCANUS neutrum, cujus Dictio quanquam multum sonat inflata, nulla tamen Phraseorum aut Epithetorum Venustate animatur, sed Orationi magis solutae convenit quam Poeticae, imo certe tali plerunque utitur Verborum delectu, qualem vel Liber dedignetur Sermo. Et quanquam in Descriptionibus saepissime versatur, & in hujusmodi diverticula nunquam non excurrit, raro tamen, ut debet, Opus absolvit: Jam vero quod ad STATIUM attinet; plurima certe composuit summis Poetarum invidenda, sed inter magnas Virtutes maxima occurrunt Vitia; in Dictione enim Verba nimis admittit sesquipedalia, nullaque de Argumento habita ratione vana numeris miscet Tonitrua: Nec minus in Descriptionibus peccat; nimio enim calori indulgens, dum totis viribus excellere conatur, ultra Finem tendit opus, et in tumorem excrescit; in utrumque hujusmodi vitium aliquando incidit CLAUDIANUS. Jam vero quoniam de VIRGILII
Aeneidis
Argumento varii multa scripserunt & praeclara, pauca solummodo de STATII & LUCANI Carminibus sunt advertenda; utpote quae
Latinorum
omnium sola Epica haberi debent. De LUCANO id saepe in Disputationem venit, an Historia qua constat
Pharsalicum
Poema, idoneum sit Heroici Carminis Argumentum. Vera ideo Heroicae Poeseωs Natura inquirenda est, quam apud Librum de Dignitate & Augmentis Scientiarum his Verbis optime exhibuit VERULAMIUS nostras. Ex quo satis patet veram Historiam cum Epico Poemate male convenire; & proinde LUCANUM quoad Argumentum maxime defecisse. Quinque in illius Poemate maxime emicant Heroes, CAESAR, POMPEIUS, BRUTUS, CATO, & CICERO: Omnes sane tam Vita insignes quam Morte luctuosi; quorum Virtutes (quantum licuit per humanam Naturam) Perfectioni istae Heroicae, quam reliqui Poetae Ducibus suis falso tribuerunt, proxime accesserant. LUCANUS CAESARI undique oblatrat, POMPEII Partes ambitiose fovet, sed BRUTI & CATONIS Encomia, ob Stoicum (credo) illud Ingenium, quod cum his habuit commune, maxime celebrat: Et plurima certe quae LUCANO objicias Philosophiae hujuscemodi sunt referenda: Inde immodicus iste Ingenii tumor, & ambitiosa Sententiarum ostentatio, quam cum illa Hominum turba semper habet in Deliciis; inde quae magna sunt, quam quae bona sunt, maluit praeferre. Hinc etiam in eximia illa Poeseωs Virtute Passionibus excitandis ipse (qui omnes Philosophiae Affectus tanquam illicitos existimavit) male successerat, cujus Vitii unicum tantum (ut taceam caetera) Argumentum proferam: Postquam in Pugna Pharsalica CAESAR de
Pompeio
Victoriam reportaverit, LUCANUS maxime debuit, si aliquid ab ipsa Historia alienum protulisset, lugubri quodam Carmine immeritam doluisse POMPEII sortem; quippe in toto Opere summo habuit honore; vel saltem ipsum POMPEIUM (ut ingens patuit Doloris Argumentum) aut de amissa
Romae
Libertate, aut de Amicorum Mortibus, aut de propriis querentem Infortuniis, introduxisse oportuit. Poeta tamen ab omni hujusmodi Dolore tam longe abest, ut POMPEIUM, obnixe hortaretur, postquam victus a Bello decesserat, ut CAESARIS Victoris sui commiserescat, quia nempe CAESAR non sine Scelere Victoria potitus est;
Nonne juvat pulsum bellis cessisse, nec istud
Prospexisse (nefas!) spumantes coede catervas?
Respice turbatos in cursu sanguinis amnes,
Et soceri miserere tui; Quo pectore Romam
Intrabit factus compis felicior istis?
Quis tulerit Poetam tam ridicule philosophantem? quasi vero POMPEIUS Senex, Exul, Miser, Triumumphatus, ob Victorem suum quamvis scelestum Commiserationem quandam conciperet: Illum quidem maxime Stoice sapuisse oporterat, qui omnibus hisce Fortunae Donis spoliatus, tantam in nuda Virtute poneret Felicitatem. Sed nullus Poetarum nisi VIRGILIUS hujusmodi afficiat Dolore: Alii plerunque dum moerorem aliquem Lectoribus inducerent, in illo peccant, quod nimia Prolixitate sese in questus effundant, nec unquam satis Lachrymarum exhaustum esse sentiant, vel Ingenium, quod maxime possint, Versibus infundendo, faciunt ut magis Carmina miremur, quam materiam lugeamus. De utroque cavit VIRGILIUS, qui mera semper Simplicitate luctuosa ut in se sunt exhibuit; & leviter quicquid dolet perstrinxerat:
"Lamentationes enim, inquit CICERO, debent esse breves & concisae, quia Lachryma subito exarescit, & difficile est Auditorem aut Lectorem in summo illo animi affectu tenere."
Ut vero ad STATIUM redeamus, illi quidem Spiritus non raro feliciter assurgit, cui dum temperare nequit, nescio quas projicit Ampullas, & vana Carminibus addit Numerorum Terriculamenta. THEBAIDIS quidem Argumentum Ingenii sui Truculentiae, sed non Heroico Poemati satis aptum videatur: ETEOCLES enim, POLYNICES, & TYDEUS, quorum gesta hoc Carmine celebrantur, nihil habent eorum, si unicam Fortitudinem demas, quae conveniunt Heroibus: Imo in toto Poemate nulla nisi Scelerum, qualia sunt Parricidii, Perfidiae, Immanitatis, Odiorum proferuntur Exemplaria; dum in omnibus fere quos suo Carmine induxit VIRGILIUS praeclara quaedam illucescunt, & in ipso AENEA summam Pietatem erga Does, Natum, Conjugem, Amicos, & Parentem, Oculis semper habemus subjectam. Epitheta plerunque STATIANA multum sonant metaphorice, dum inanimatis illa tribuuntur quae Animalibus conveniunt. In Verbis tamen nec raro sine maxima Elegantia Metaphoras consectatur CLAUDIANUS; VIRGILIUS in utrisque parcissimus; STATIUS plurimas rerum similitudines composuit, multum saepe de VIRGILII Ingenio referentes, in qua arte melius successerat LUCANUS, si aliquid unquam mediocre admiserat; sed dum VIRGILIUS ad Apes, ad Formicas, & istiusmodi Natura ludicra descendit, nihil unquam nisi Quercum fulminatam, Terrae Exitium, aut Mundi Conflagrationem ebuccinat LUCANUS. Et hisce tandem, quorum alii non operae Pretium duxerunt meminisse, de Heroicis Scriptoribus breviter perstrictis; de Satyricis restat dicendum; quorum omnium JUVENALIS & HORATIUS Palmam dubiam quidem fecerunt: Inter Literatos enim multum discrepat, utrum mordax illa Ingenii acerbitas, qua suam armavit paginam JUVENALIS, an potius HORATII festivae Irrisiones, magis Satyrae conveniant: Ut vero de utroque rectius statuatur, pauca prius sunt advertenda. Ob infamem vitae suae lasciviam, etiam nunc temporis, male audit HORATIUS; Virtutem tamen semper rigide coluit JUVENALIS: Ille in absolutissima AUGUSTI Aula versatus est, hic in pessima DOMITIANI Tempora incidisset: Proinde ut ad sua & Saeculi utriusque Ingenia Opera accommodarent Poetae, HORATIUS totus in ludicro exercetur Argumento, nec Morum Licentiam, sed indecoras quasdam Aulicorum Ineptias plerunque insectatur; non ideo abfuisset quin irridetur, si aliqua Styli severitate ad leviuscula hujusmodi castiganda se accinxisset: Gravissima tamen in Temporibus suis reprehendit JUVENALIS, & de Vitiis ubique queritur quae vel pudeat recitare, & isti sane Materiae, summa Mentis Indignatio, Orationis Ardor, & Ingenii Acrimonia, rectissime aptari videantur. Quamvis ubi ad Jocularia Animum demittit, non raro Satyris Festivitatem fundit HORATIANAM. Uterque ideo (modo diversum consulas Argumentum) suo quidem Genere perfectissimus emicuit; in quo Ridiculum Acri melius, in hoc Acre Ridiculo. Reliqua certe HORATII Opera, Admiratione potius sunt digna quam Encomiis, nec majora solum Vituperatione, sed etiam Laude. Jam vero quod ad Dramaticos attinet, PLAUTI & TERENTII Argumenta, Sales, Elegantiae ubique adeo vulgantur, ut nihil de novo possit adjici: De SENECA vero tam diverse sentiunt, ut alii inter summos Tragicorum, alii infra Infimum annumerent: Illi quidem Ingenium valde magnum, Oratio elegans & concisa, abundat Sententiis plerunque acutis, Stoicam semper Philosophiam, quam amplexus est, redolentibus. Unde omnibus fere, qui Artem Dramaticam parum sapiunt, semper est in Deliciis; si tamen ad hanc respicias, Tragoediae ubique plurimum laborant, & istud vitii (ut reliqua praetermittam) SENECAE peculiare videatur, ut quoscunque inducat Interlocutores, nulla, ad Personas quas sustinet, habita ratione, eundem semper unicuique tribuat loquendi modum: Omnes severiora spirant Philosophiae Dogmata, & quae Stoae magis conveniant quam Theatro. Eadem semper Styli Magnificentia superbiunt Rex, & Nuncius: Imo ipsam Nutricem (plurima enim tam acute profert) Stoicorum Praeceptis non mediocriter imbutam sentias. Inter Epigrammatistas potissimum emicuerunt MARTIALIS & CLAUDIANUS; Ille semper in extremo Poemate Ingenii subjecit acumen, & saepe similia insequitur Verborum Tintinnabula; Hic per totum Epigramma suum dispergit Salem, & venustissima ubique utitur Latinitatis Elegantia. Caeterum tamen Poetarum Vulgus, de istiusmodi mediocribus sunt, quos nec Dii nec Homines concesserunt; & quamvis una aut altera apud affectatas CATULLI Oratiunculas, TIBULLI aut PROPERTII inhonestam paginam, & Carmina incuriosa, illucescat Virtus, non tamen est Operae Pretium Gemmas inter Stercora eruere.
Jo. Addison,
è Coll. Magd. Oxon.
A DISSERTATION Upon the most celebrated
Roman
POETS.
Made
English
from the
Latin
Original BY
CHRISTOPHER HAYES,
Esq
LONDON,
Printed in the Year 1718.
A DISSERTATION Upon the most celebrated
Roman
POETS.
O F all the Nations in the World, the
Romans
have most excell'd in the
Art of Poetry,
and even among the
Romans
VIRGIL has been the most deservedly celebrated; from whom the justest Rules of this Art are rather to be taken, than from the dry Precepts of the Criticks. To the End therefore that we may the more truly ascertain the
Beauties
and
Faults
which occur among the rest of the Writers of
Heroic Poetry,
let us compare them with the Style of VIRGIL; who, if he be in any Thing deficient, it is when he has sometimes in his
Eclogues
mingled such a Purity of Style, as is not entirely agreeable with the Dialect of Shepherds; and frequently the Dignity of his Verse seems no Way consonant to the Rural Pipe. In every Book of his
Georgicks,
he treats of
Country Affairs
with an inimitable Elegancy of Style; but, above all, we are most delighted with his last Book,
Of the Nature of
BEES; where, in a Poem on so inconsiderable a Subject, our Author purposely affects a peculiarly solemn and pompous Style. In this Piece he compares the Labours of the BEES to those of the
Cyclops;
and in the same lofty Numbers recounts the Skirmishes of these little
Insects
among themselves, as he does the Rencounters of AENEAS and TURNUS. All along, the Generals of this small Republick, the Populace, the Factions, the Customs and Forms of Government exercis'd within the narrow Limits of the
Bee-hive,
are describ'd with an inexpressible Beauty and Magnificence. Throughout the whole Work, what mostly raises our Admiration, is, that in the Persuit of his Discourse on Planting, Grazing, and Agriculture, (waving the common Forms of Speech) he suits his Poetick Diction to so unpolite a Theme; how, seemingly depress'd with the Meanness of his Subject, he never sinks into a Plebeian Style; but the Force and Energy of his Expression are so conspicuous, that many, too rashly indeed, have not scrupled to prefer the
Georgicks
to the
Aeneid:
But in a Work of this Nature, no other Parts of Poetry could be display'd, except an Elegance of Style and Description: In both these Ways VIRGIL has this peculiar to himself, that he captivates the Soul with his wonderful Sweetness, and his Descriptions are as lively, as if we had the Object plac'd before our Eyes.
In the Purity of his Style next follows LUCRETIUS, whose Diction, allowing for his Obsoleteness, and Numbers almost Prosaick, may challenge a Share of Praise in those who have any Taste of the
Roman Eloquence:
For Descriptions however, the second Post of Honour is due to CLAUDIAN, who has throughout, in a most beautiful Style, interwoven his agreeable Images; faulty in this alone, that he expatiates upon his Subjects beyond all Decency, and frequently gives us the same Thoughts, diversify'd only in Expression. In this Art CLAUDIAN well knew the Progress he had made, for on whatsoever Topick he is engag'd, he diligently searches out Matter for Description, nay most of the Subjects he has wrote upon are wholly such, as may be seen in his
Prefaces,
his
Eclogues,
his Books of the
Rape of
PROSERPINE, his
Phoenix,
his
Porcupine,
his
Cramp-Fish,
and most of his EPIGRAMS.
OVID (like a true Courtier as he was) describes the Affairs of
Love
in neat and polite Verse. In the rest of his Works we meet with the more vulgar Way of Expression; for trusting to a good Genius, he was little solicitous about forming a more elaborate Style; but yet in his
Metamorphoses,
he has painted in the greatest Perfection the various
Changes
of all Creatures, and his
Transformations
succeed one another with a most surprizing Celerity.
STATIUS has frequently discharg'd both these Requisites of a Poet we just now observ'd; LUCAN neither, whose Diction, altho' very bombast, is not enliven'd either by beautiful Phrases or Epithets, but comes nearer Prose than Poetry; nay, there is in him commonly such a mean Choice of Words, as is sometimes even beneath Prose it self: And altho' he abounds in Descriptions, and is always making Excursions of that Kind, yet he seldom finishes his Work as he ought, or brings his Thoughts to any Justness of Conclusion.
But now as to STATIUS, he has given us Compositions worthy of the Envy of the best Poets: But with all his Beauties he has greater Faults; for in his Expression he makes too much Use of Gigantick Words, and, not considering his Subject, mingles useless Thunder in his Numbers: Nor is he less faulty in his Descriptions, for, encouraging too great a Heat, while he attempts to excel, he shoots beyond his Mark, and swells unnaturally. Of both which Extreams CLAUDIAN is too often guilty.
And now, since there have been many Pieces written, and those of Note, on the Subject of VIRGIL'S
Aeneis,
(and less Notice is taken of the Poetry of STATIUS and LUCAN) to whose Productions only the
Latines
allow the Title of
Epick Poetry.
As to LUCAN, it has been often disputed whether his
Pharsalia
be a proper Subject for an
Heroick Poem.
For the Decision of this Point, we must enquire into the true Nature of
Heroick Poetry,
which our Countryman the Lord BACON has admirably describ'd in his Treatise of
The Advancement of Learning.
From whence it is sufficiently manifest, that
History
and
Epic Poetry
are by no means proper Companions; and therefore that LUCAN has very much fail'd in his principal Subject: The five Heroes who make the greatest Figure in his Poem, are CAESAR, POMPEY, BRUTUS, CATO, and CICERO; each of them indeed as distinguishable in their Lives, as they were lamented at their Deaths; Men whose Virtues, allowing for the Frailties of human Nature, came nearest to that Pitch of Heroick Perfection which other Poets have falsely attributed to their Heroes. LUCAN every where rails at CAESAR, and passionately espouses POMPEY'S Interest, but most of all celebrates the Characters of BRUTUS and CATO for that Spirit of
Stoicism,
which he had equally imbib'd with them: And indeed most of the Faults objected to LUCAN, are rather to be imputed to this Kind of Philosophy. From whence sprung that boundless Vein of Wit, and that peculiar Affectation of a lofty Style, which, like that Sect of Men, he always delighted in, and therefore gives the Preference rather to great, than good Actions: And upon this Account, in raising the Passions, (that most excellent Part of Poetry) he succeeded but ill, because upon the Principles of his Philosophy, the Passions themselves were accounted as absolutely unlawful. To confirm this, (passing by many others) I will produce but one Instance: After CAESAR had obtain'd the Victory over POMPEY in the Battle of
Pharsalia,
LUCAN certainly (if he had enlarg'd on any Circumstance foreign to his Story) should, upon so remarkable an Occasion, have brought in POMPEY lamenting his unhappy Fate in the most mournful Strain; especially since he pays so high a Deference to him throughout his whole Work; or at least (as there was an open Field for Grief) he should have introduc'd POMPEY, either complaining of
Rome
's lost Liberty, the Death of his Friends, or his own Misfortunes. But LUCAN is so far from raising the Passions to this just Heighth, that he warmly advises POMPEY (when vanquish'd he retires from the Field of Action) to commiserate the Condition of his Conqueror CAESAR, because he had not won the Day but by unjustifiable Methods.
Don't you rejoyce that your superiour Foes
Have snatch'd you from a Scene of future Woes?
That blest in Exile you escape the Sight
Of bleeding Armies in domestic Fight?
Behold each River drags her tardy Flood,
Choak'd up with Carnage and distain'd with Blood;
Your
Victor-Sire
with pitying Eyes survey,
Nor envy him the Fortune of the Day:
How shall he enter
Rome
devoid of Shame,
Who on the publick Ruins builds his Name?
Who can bear to hear the Poet philosophizing in this ridiculous Manner? As if POMPEY, a Man in Years, an Exile, Miserable, and Vanquish'd, should have any Concern upon him for the Crimes of his Conqueror: He ought to have been very much stoiciz'd indeed, who, despoil'd of all the Goods of Fortune, could place the Sum of his Felicity in meer naked Virtue. But none of the Poets have touch'd this Passion of
Grief
like VIRGIL. The Generality of other Writers, when they attempt to move their Readers, offend in this Point, that they are too prolix in spinning out their Complaints, and think their Flood of Tears inexhaustible; or else, while they labour to express the Greatness of their Genius, in the Profuseness of their Verse, rather raise our Admiration at the Flowing of their Numbers, than excite our Pity in the Catastrophe of their Story. VIRGIL has carefully avoided both these Extreams, and dresses his Images of Sorrow in their native Simplicity; and whoever he makes to grieve, he always does it with a quick and tender Compassion: For according to CICERO,
our Expressions of Grief ought to be short and concise, because our Tears quickly dry up, and it is unnatural to detain either an Auditor or a Reader in too long a Suspension of Grief.
But to return to STATIUS, his Spirit is indeed lofty and aspiring, to which while he gives too great a Loose, he runs into Bombast, and to his Poetry often adds useless sounding Words. The Subject of his
Thebais
seems indeed suited to the Barbarity of his Genius, but is beneath the Dignity of an Heroic Poem. For neither ETEOCLES, POLYNICES, nor TYDEUS, whose Actions are recorded in this Poem, have any Thing in them, except their Valour, agreeable to Heroes: Nay, throughout the whole Piece there are no Examples produc'd, unless of Persons infamous for the most flagitious Enormities, such as Parricide, Treachery, Cruelty, and Revenge; while, on the contrary, every Thing Praise-worthy shines bright in VIRGIL'S Heroes, and in the Person of AENEAS we have plac'd before our Eyes an Instance of consummate Piety towards the GODS, his Son, his Wife, his Friends, and his Father. The Epithets of STATIUS are generally forc'd and very metaphorical, while such Properties are ascrib'd to Inanimates, as really only belong to Animals. In the Choice of his Words, and frequently in his Metaphors, he is follow'd by CLAUDIAN with the utmost Elegance; VIRGIL is sparing in both these Particulars; STATIUS abounds much with Similitudes, in which he seems to imitate VIRGIL; but in this Instance LUCAN had had better Success, if he had hit upon the proper Medium: But while VIRGIL stoops down to the humble Subjects of
Bees, Ants,
and other such like delightful Themes of Nature; on the other Hand, LUCAN bellows out nothing but Stories of
Oaks
split by Lightning,
Earthquakes,
and the World's
Conflagration.
Let this, in short, suffice observable concerning the Writers of Heroic Poetry, in itself new, and never before taken Notice of.
Something now remains to be said of the
Satyrists,
among whom whether JUVENAL or HORACE have most Right to the
Bays,
it is difficult to determine; for it has been long a Dispute among the Learned, whether that Keenness and Bitterness of Expression with which JUVENAL has arm'd his
Satires,
or HORACE'S more jocose
Lampoons
are most agreeable to the End of SATIRE. Now that we may give a clearer Decision on this Head, a few Things must be premis'd. HORACE bears to this Day, an ill Character for the Looseness of his Conduct in Life. JUVENAL was a rigid Practiser of Virtue. The one was conversant in the most perfectly polite Court of AUGUSTUS; the other liv'd in the Dregs of DOMITIAN'S Time; and therefore both these Poets accommodated their Writings to the Manners of the different Ages they liv'd in: For HORACE is entirely upon the ludicrous, and persues not so much the Licentiousness of the Times, as the ridiculous Fopperies of some particular Courtiers; for had he attempted to correct these Trifles with Severity, he had not miss'd of being laugh'd at: But JUVENAL lashes the grossest Crimes prevalent in his Time, and complains of Enormities which he was asham'd to mention, and nothing less than the highest Resentment of Soul, Ardency of Expression, and Sharpness of Speech, could be an equal Match to Crimes so notorious; tho' whenever he descends to be
jocose,
we frequently meet with the Pleasantry of HORACE. Both of them, allowing for the different Manner of their Writing, are perfect Masters in their several Ways; in the one shines the
Ridicule,
in the other the
Severe.
The rest of HORACE'S Pieces are so admirable, that they exceed our highest Encomiums, and are not only beyond our Dislike, but above our Praise.
As to what concerns the Dramatick
Poets,
PLAUTUS and TERENCE bear away the Bell, whose Plots, Turns, and Elegancy of Style, are so well known, that nothing new can be said upon them.
As to SENECA, Mankind have had different Opinions of him; some have rank'd him with the best
Tragoedians,
others have sunk him below the worst. He certainly had a great Genius, an elegant and concise Way of Expression; he abounds with smart Turns, which always savour much of that Stoicism of which he was a Follower, upon which Account he has always been esteem'd by those who have had little or no Taste of
Dramatick Poetry;
but then if we consider him as such, his Tragedies are throughout too elaborate; and this, to pass by his other Faults, seems peculiarly SENECA'S, that he makes all his Actors (without any Regard to the Characters they bear) talk in the same Strain; all of them inculcate rigid philosophical
Dogmata,
and such Morality as is rather fit for the Schools of the Stoicks, than the
Roman
Theatre: For with him the King and the Slave strut in the same Buskin; nay, you may perceive the Nurse herself deeply ting'd with the Principles of Stoicism.
Among the
Epigrammatists,
MARTIAL and CLAUDIAN have bore the greatest Reputation; the first, for the severe Point in the Close of his
Epigrams,
and the peculiar Jingle of his Words. The other, for dispersing the Poignancy of his Wit throughout his
Epigrams,
and that in the most beautiful
Latin
Phrase.
The rest of the Herd of the
Latin
Poets creep so low in their Numbers, that they are beneath the Notice either of GODS or Men: And tho' we may now and then discover in the affected Harangues of CATULLUS, and the obscene Poetry of TIBULLUS and PROPERTIUS, some not disagreeable Pieces, yet it is not worth our while to rake the
Dunghills
for the Sake of the JEWELLS.
ERRATA.
Pag.
5
Lin.
16
read
eosdemque.
p.
13
l.
12
r.
oportuerat.
POSTSCRIPT.
The Passage of the Lord
Vide Tract. de Dignitate & Augmentis Scientiarum. Fol. Lond. 1638, Cap. XIII. Pag. 64.
BACON, which seems to be referr'd to by Mr. ADDISON, in the 9th Page of the foregoing DISSERTATION.
—de Poesi Narrativa, sive eam Heroicam appellare placet (modo hoc intelligas de Materia, non de Versu) ea a Fundamento prorsus nobili excitata videtur, quod ad dignitatem humanae Naturae imprimis spectat. Cum enim Mundus sensibilis sit Anima rationali dignitate inferior, videtur Poesis haec humanae Naturae largiri, quae Historia denegat; atque Animo umbris rerum utcunque fatisfacere, cum solida haberi non possint. Si quis enim Rem acutius introspiciat, firmum ex Poesi sumitur argumentum, Magnitudinem Rerum magis illustrem, Ordinem magis perfectum, & Varietatem magis pulchram, Animae humanae complacere, quam in Natura ipsa post Lapsum reperire ullo modo possit. Quapropter, cum Res gestae, & Eventus, qui vere Historiae subjiciuntur, non sint ejus Amplitudinis, in qua Anima humana sibi satisfaciat, praesto est Poesis, quae Facta magis Heroica confingat: Cum Historia vera successus rerum, minime pro meritis Virtutum & Scelerum narret; corrigit eam Poesis, & exitus, & fortunas secundum merita, & ex lege Nemeseos exhibet: Cum Historia vera, obvia rerum satietate & similitudine, animae humanae fastidio sit; reficit eam Poesis inexpectata & varia, & vicissitudinem plena canens. Adeo ut Poesis ista, non solum ad delectationem, sed etiam ad Animi magnitudinem, & ad Mores conferat. Quare & merito etiam Divinitatis cujuspiam particeps videri possit; quia animum erigit, & in sublime rapit: rerum simulachra ad animi desideria accommodando, non animum rebus (quod ratio facit & Historia) submittendo.
Thus translated, in the
English
Edition, by Dr. RAWLEY.
As for
Narrative Poesy,
or, if you please,
Heroical,
(so you understand it of the Matter, not of the Verse) it seems to be rais'd altogether from a noble Foundation, which makes much for the Dignity of Man's Nature. For seeing this sensible World is in Dignity inferior to the Soul of Man,
Poesy
seems to endow human Nature with that which
History
denies; and to give Satisfaction to the Mind, with, at least, the Shadow of Things, where the Substance cannot be had. For if the Matter be thoroughly consider'd, a strong Argument may be drawn from
Poesy,
that a more stately Greatness of Things, a more perfect Order, and a more beautiful Variety delights the Soul of Man, than any Way can be found in Nature since the
Fall.
Wherefore, seeing the Acts and Events which are the Subject of true
History,
are not of that Amplitude as to content the Mind of Man,
Poesy
is ready at Hand to feign Acts more
Heroical.
Because
true History
reports the Successes of Business not proportionable to the Merit of Virtues and Vices,
Poesy
corrects it, and presents Events and Fortunes according to Desert, and according to the Law of Providence: Because
true History,
thro' the frequent Satiety and Similitude of Things, works a Distaste and Misprision in the Mind of Man;
Poesy
cheereth and refresheth the Soul, chanting Things rare, and various, and full of Vicissitudes. So as
Poesy
serveth and conferreth to Delectation, Magnanimity, and Morality; and therefore it may seem deservedly to have some Participation of Divineness, because it doth raise the Mind to Things, as
Reason
and
History
do.
FINIS.