Lucasta [17]
related, figure in the history of the present period, viz., Colonel John Jephson, apparently a military associate of Lovelace; Norris Jephson, who contributed a copy of verses to LUCASTA, and to the first folio edition of Beaumont and Fletcher's plays, 1647; and William Jephson, whose name occurs among the subscribers to the SOLEMN LEAGUE AND COVENANT, 1643.
TO MY NOBLE AND MOST INGENIOUS FRIEND, COLONEL RICHARD LOVELACE, UPON HIS "LUCASTA."
So from the pregnant braine of Jove did rise Pallas, the queene of wit and beautious eyes, As faire Lucasta from thy temples flowes, Temples no lesse ingenious then Joves. Alike in birth, so shall she be in fame, And be immortall to preserve thy Name.
ANOTHER, UPON THE POEMS.
Now, when the wars augment our woes and fears, And the shrill noise of drums oppresse our ears; Now peace and safety from our shores are fled To holes and cavernes to secure their head; Now all the graces from the land are sent, And the nine Muses suffer banishment; Whence spring these raptures? whence this heavenly rime, So calme and even in so harsh a time? Well might that charmer his faire Caelia<6.1> crowne, And that more polish't Tyterus<6.2> renowne His Sacarissa, when in groves and bowres They could repose their limbs on beds of flowrs: When wit had prayse, and merit had reward, And every noble spirit did accord To love the Muses, and their priests to raise, And interpale their browes with flourishing bayes; But in a time distracted so to sing, When peace is hurried hence on rages wing, When the fresh bayes are<6.3> from the Temple torne, And every art and science made a scorne; Then to raise up, by musicke of thy art, Our drooping spirits and our grieved hearts; Then to delight our souls, and to inspire Our breast with pleasure from thy charming lyre; Then to divert our sorrowes by thy straines, Making us quite forget our seven yeers paines In the past wars, unlesse that Orpheus be A sharer in thy glory: for when he Descended downe for his Euridice, He stroke his lute with like admired art, And made the damned to forget their smart. John Pinchbacke, Col<>
<6.1> Many poets have celebrated the charms of a CAELIA; but I apprehend that the writer here intends Carew.
<6.2> Waller.
<6.3> Original has IS.
<> P. 10. JOHN PINCHBACK, COL[ONEL]. Pinchback neither is nor was, I believe, a name of common occurrence; and it is just possible that the Colonel may be the very "old Jack Pinchbacke" mentioned by Sir Nicholas L'Estrange, in his MERRY PASSAGES AND JESTS, of which a selection was given by Mr. Thoms in his ANECDOTES AND TRADITIONS, 1839. L'Estrange, it is true, describes the Colonel as a "gamester and rufler, daubed with gold lace;" but this is not incompatible with the identity between the PINCHBACKE, who figures in LUCASTA, and OLD JACK, who had perhaps not always been "a gamester and ruffler," and whose gold lace had, no doubt, once been in better company than that which he seems to have frequented, when L'Estrange knew him. The "daubed gold lace," after all, only corresponds with the picture, which Lovelace himself may have presented in GUNPOWDER ALLEY days.
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Pseudetai hostis ephe-dolichos chronos oiden ameiben Ounoma, kai panton mnemosynen olesai. Oden gar poiein agathen ponos aphthonos esti, Hon medeis aion oiden odousi phagein. Oden soi, phile, doke men aphthiton, ogathe, mousa, Hos eis aionas ounoma ee teon.>> Villiers Harington, L.C.
TO HIS MUCH HONOURED FRIEND, MR. RICHARD LOVELACE, ON HIS POEMS.
He that doth paint the beauties of your verse, Must use your pensil, be polite, soft, terse; Forgive that man whose best of art is love, If he no equall master to you prove. My heart is all my eloquence, and that Speaks sharp affection, when my words fall flat; I reade you like my mistresse, and discry In every line the quicknesse of her eye: Her smoothnesse in each syllable, her grace To marshall ev'ry word in the right place. It is the excellence and soule
TO MY NOBLE AND MOST INGENIOUS FRIEND, COLONEL RICHARD LOVELACE, UPON HIS "LUCASTA."
So from the pregnant braine of Jove did rise Pallas, the queene of wit and beautious eyes, As faire Lucasta from thy temples flowes, Temples no lesse ingenious then Joves. Alike in birth, so shall she be in fame, And be immortall to preserve thy Name.
ANOTHER, UPON THE POEMS.
Now, when the wars augment our woes and fears, And the shrill noise of drums oppresse our ears; Now peace and safety from our shores are fled To holes and cavernes to secure their head; Now all the graces from the land are sent, And the nine Muses suffer banishment; Whence spring these raptures? whence this heavenly rime, So calme and even in so harsh a time? Well might that charmer his faire Caelia<6.1> crowne, And that more polish't Tyterus<6.2> renowne His Sacarissa, when in groves and bowres They could repose their limbs on beds of flowrs: When wit had prayse, and merit had reward, And every noble spirit did accord To love the Muses, and their priests to raise, And interpale their browes with flourishing bayes; But in a time distracted so to sing, When peace is hurried hence on rages wing, When the fresh bayes are<6.3> from the Temple torne, And every art and science made a scorne; Then to raise up, by musicke of thy art, Our drooping spirits and our grieved hearts; Then to delight our souls, and to inspire Our breast with pleasure from thy charming lyre; Then to divert our sorrowes by thy straines, Making us quite forget our seven yeers paines In the past wars, unlesse that Orpheus be A sharer in thy glory: for when he Descended downe for his Euridice, He stroke his lute with like admired art, And made the damned to forget their smart. John Pinchbacke, Col<
<6.1> Many poets have celebrated the charms of a CAELIA; but I apprehend that the writer here intends Carew.
<6.2> Waller.
<6.3> Original has IS.
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Pseudetai hostis ephe-dolichos chronos oiden ameiben Ounoma, kai panton mnemosynen olesai. Oden gar poiein agathen ponos aphthonos esti, Hon medeis aion oiden odousi phagein. Oden soi, phile, doke men aphthiton, ogathe, mousa, Hos eis aionas ounoma ee teon.>> Villiers Harington, L.C.
TO HIS MUCH HONOURED FRIEND, MR. RICHARD LOVELACE, ON HIS POEMS.
He that doth paint the beauties of your verse, Must use your pensil, be polite, soft, terse; Forgive that man whose best of art is love, If he no equall master to you prove. My heart is all my eloquence, and that Speaks sharp affection, when my words fall flat; I reade you like my mistresse, and discry In every line the quicknesse of her eye: Her smoothnesse in each syllable, her grace To marshall ev'ry word in the right place. It is the excellence and soule