Cowley's Essays [42]
Without which all the composition's vain. In the same weight prudence and innocence take Ana of each does the just mixture make. But a few friendships wear, and let them be By Nature and by Fortune fit for thee. Instead of art and luxury in food, Let mirth and freedom make thy table good. If any cares into thy daytime creep, At night, without wines, opium, let them sleep. Let rest, which Nature does to darkness wed, And not lust, recommend to thee thy bed, Be satisfied, and pleased with what thou art; Act cheerfully and well the allotted part. Enjoy the present hour, be thankful for the past, And neither fear, nor wish the approaches of the last.
MARTIAL, LIB. 10. EP. 96.
Me, who have lived so long among the great, You wonder to hear talk of a retreat: And a retreat so distant, as may show No thoughts of a return when once I go. Give me a country, how remote so e'er, Where happiness a moderate rate does bear, Where poverty itself in plenty flows And all the solid use of riches knows. The ground about the house maintains it there, The house maintains the ground about it here. Here even hunger's dear, and a full board Devours the vital substance of the lord. The land itself does there the feast bestow, The land itself must here to market go. Three or four suits one winter here does waste, One suit does there three or four winters last. Here every frugal man must oft be cold, And little lukewarm fires are to you sold. There fire's an element as cheap and free Almost as any of the other three. Stay you then here, and live among the great, Attend their sports, and at their tables eat. When all the bounties here of men you score: The Place's bounty there, shall give me more.
EPITAPHIUM VIVI AUCTOIRIS.
Hic, O viator, sub Lare parvulo Couleius hic est conditus, hic jacet; Defunctus humani laboris Sorte, supervacuague vila.
Non indecora pauperie nitens, Et non inerti nobilis otio, Vanoque dilectis popello Divitiis animosus hostis.
Possis ut illum dicere mortuum, En terra jam nunc quantula sufficit! Exempta sit curis, viator; Terra sit illa levis, precare.
Hic sparge flores, sparge breves rosas, Nam vita gaudet mortua floribus, Herbisque odoratis corona Vatis adhuc cinerem calentem.
EPITAPH OF THE LIVING AUTHOR. [Translation.]
O wayfarer, beneath his household shrine Here Cowley lies, closed in a little den; A life too empty and his lot combine To give him rest from all the toils of men.
Not shining with unseemly shows of want, Nor noble with the indolence of ease; Fearless of spirit as a combatant With mob-loved wealth and all its devotees.
That you may fairly speak of him as dead, Behold how little earth contents him now! Pray, wayfarer, that all his cares be fled, And that the earth lie lightly on his brow.
Strew flowers here, strew roses soon to perish, For the dead life joys in all flowers that blow; Crown with sweet herbs, bank blossoms high, to cherish The poet's ashes that are yet aglow.
HENRY MORLEY.
A FEW NOTES.
Page 15. Fertur equis, &c. From the close of Virgil's first Georgic:
said of horses in a chariot race, Nor reins, nor curbs, nor threatening cries they fear, But force along the trembling charioteer. Dryden's translation.
Page 16. En Romanos, &c. Virgil, AEneid I., when Jove says,
The people Romans call, the city Rome, To them no bounds of empire I assign, Nor term of years to their immortal line. Dryden's Virgil.
Page 18. "Laveer with every wind." Laveer is an old sea term for working the ship against the wind. Lord Clarendon used its noun, "the schoolmen are the best laveerers in the world, and would have taught a ship to catch the wind that it should have gained half and half, though it had been contrary."
Page 24. Amatorem trecentae Pirithoum cohibent catenae. Horace's Ode, Bk. IV., end of ode 4. Three hundred chains bind the lover, Pirithous:
Wrath waits on sin, three hundred chains Pirithous bind in endless pains. Creech's Translation.
Page 25.
MARTIAL, LIB. 10. EP. 96.
Me, who have lived so long among the great, You wonder to hear talk of a retreat: And a retreat so distant, as may show No thoughts of a return when once I go. Give me a country, how remote so e'er, Where happiness a moderate rate does bear, Where poverty itself in plenty flows And all the solid use of riches knows. The ground about the house maintains it there, The house maintains the ground about it here. Here even hunger's dear, and a full board Devours the vital substance of the lord. The land itself does there the feast bestow, The land itself must here to market go. Three or four suits one winter here does waste, One suit does there three or four winters last. Here every frugal man must oft be cold, And little lukewarm fires are to you sold. There fire's an element as cheap and free Almost as any of the other three. Stay you then here, and live among the great, Attend their sports, and at their tables eat. When all the bounties here of men you score: The Place's bounty there, shall give me more.
EPITAPHIUM VIVI AUCTOIRIS.
Hic, O viator, sub Lare parvulo Couleius hic est conditus, hic jacet; Defunctus humani laboris Sorte, supervacuague vila.
Non indecora pauperie nitens, Et non inerti nobilis otio, Vanoque dilectis popello Divitiis animosus hostis.
Possis ut illum dicere mortuum, En terra jam nunc quantula sufficit! Exempta sit curis, viator; Terra sit illa levis, precare.
Hic sparge flores, sparge breves rosas, Nam vita gaudet mortua floribus, Herbisque odoratis corona Vatis adhuc cinerem calentem.
EPITAPH OF THE LIVING AUTHOR. [Translation.]
O wayfarer, beneath his household shrine Here Cowley lies, closed in a little den; A life too empty and his lot combine To give him rest from all the toils of men.
Not shining with unseemly shows of want, Nor noble with the indolence of ease; Fearless of spirit as a combatant With mob-loved wealth and all its devotees.
That you may fairly speak of him as dead, Behold how little earth contents him now! Pray, wayfarer, that all his cares be fled, And that the earth lie lightly on his brow.
Strew flowers here, strew roses soon to perish, For the dead life joys in all flowers that blow; Crown with sweet herbs, bank blossoms high, to cherish The poet's ashes that are yet aglow.
HENRY MORLEY.
A FEW NOTES.
Page 15. Fertur equis, &c. From the close of Virgil's first Georgic:
said of horses in a chariot race, Nor reins, nor curbs, nor threatening cries they fear, But force along the trembling charioteer. Dryden's translation.
Page 16. En Romanos, &c. Virgil, AEneid I., when Jove says,
The people Romans call, the city Rome, To them no bounds of empire I assign, Nor term of years to their immortal line. Dryden's Virgil.
Page 18. "Laveer with every wind." Laveer is an old sea term for working the ship against the wind. Lord Clarendon used its noun, "the schoolmen are the best laveerers in the world, and would have taught a ship to catch the wind that it should have gained half and half, though it had been contrary."
Page 24. Amatorem trecentae Pirithoum cohibent catenae. Horace's Ode, Bk. IV., end of ode 4. Three hundred chains bind the lover, Pirithous:
Wrath waits on sin, three hundred chains Pirithous bind in endless pains. Creech's Translation.
Page 25.