Lucasta [94]
superior to the present specimen, cannot be regarded as a great calamity.
AN ELEGIE.
Me thinks, when kings, prophets, and poets dye, We should not bid men weep, nor ask them why, But the great loss should by instinct impair The nations, like a pestilential ayr, And in a moment men should feel the cramp Of grief, like persons poyson'd with a damp. All things in nature should their death deplore, And the sun look less lovely than before; The fixed stars should change their constant spaces, And comets cast abroad their flagrant<111.1> faces. Yet still we see princes and poets fall Without their proper pomp of funerall; Men look about, as if they nere had known The poets lawrell or the princes crown; Lovelace hath long been dead, and he<111.2> can be Oblig'd to no man for an elegie. Are you all turn'd to silence, or did he Retain the only sap of poesie, That kept all branches living? must his fall Set an eternal period upon all? So when a spring-tide doth begin to fly<111.3> From the green shoar, each neighbouring creek grows dry. But why do I so pettishly detract An age that is so perfect, so exact? In all things excellent, it is a fame Or glory to deceased Lovelace name: For he is weak in wit, who doth deprave Anothers worth to make his own seem brave; And this was not his aim: nor is it mine. I now conceive the scope of their designe, Which is with one consent to bring and burn Contributary incence on his urn, Where each mans love and fancy shall be try'd, As when great Johnson or brave Shakespear dyed. Wits must unite: for ignorance, we see, Hath got a great train of artillerie: Yet neither shall nor can it blast the fame And honour of deceased Lovelace name, Whose own LUCASTA can support his credit Amongst all such who knowingly have read it; But who that praise can by desert discusse Due to those poems that are posthumous? And if the last conceptions are the best, Those by degrees do much transcend the rest; So full, so fluent, that they richly sute With Orpheus lire, or with Anacreons lute, And he shall melt his wing, that shall aspire To reach a fancy or one accent higher. Holland and France have known his nobler parts, And found him excellent in arms and arts. To sum up all, few men of fame but know, He was TAM MARTI, QUAM MERCURIO.<111.4>
<111.1> Burning.
<111.2> Original has WE.
<111.3> A fine image!
<111.4> The motto originally employed by George Gascoigne, who, like Lovelace, wielded both the sword and the pen.
TO HIS NOBLE FRIEND CAPT. DUDLEY LOVELACE UPON HIS EDITION OF HIS BROTHERS POEMS.
Thy pious hand, planting fraternal bayes, Deserving is of most egregious praise; Since 'tis the organ doth to us convey From a descended sun so bright a ray. Clear spirit! how much we are bound to thee For this so great a liberalitie, The truer worth of which by much exceeds The western wealth, which such contention breeds! Like the Infusing-God, from the well-head Of poesie you have besprinkled Our brows with holy drops, the very last, Which from your Brother's happy pen were cast: Yet as the last, the best; such matchlesse skill From his divine alembick did distill. Your honour'd Brother in the Elyzian shade Will joy to know himself a laureat made By your religious care, and that his urn Doth him on earth immortal life return. Your self you have a good physician shown To his much grieved friends and to your own, In giving this elixir'd medecine, For greatest grief a soveraign anodine. Sir, from your Brother y' have convey'd us bliss; Now, since your genius so concurs with his, Let your own quill our next enjoyments frame; All must be rich, that's grac'd with Lovelace name. Symon Ognell M.D.<112.1> Coningbrens.
<112.1> This person is not mentioned in Munk's Roll of the Royal College of Physicians, 1861.
ON THE TRULY HONOURABLE COLL. RICHARD LOVELACE, OCCASIONED BY THE PUBLICATION OF HIS POSTHUME-POEMS.
ELEGIE.
Great son of Mars, and of Minerva too! With what oblations must
AN ELEGIE.
Me thinks, when kings, prophets, and poets dye, We should not bid men weep, nor ask them why, But the great loss should by instinct impair The nations, like a pestilential ayr, And in a moment men should feel the cramp Of grief, like persons poyson'd with a damp. All things in nature should their death deplore, And the sun look less lovely than before; The fixed stars should change their constant spaces, And comets cast abroad their flagrant<111.1> faces. Yet still we see princes and poets fall Without their proper pomp of funerall; Men look about, as if they nere had known The poets lawrell or the princes crown; Lovelace hath long been dead, and he<111.2> can be Oblig'd to no man for an elegie. Are you all turn'd to silence, or did he Retain the only sap of poesie, That kept all branches living? must his fall Set an eternal period upon all? So when a spring-tide doth begin to fly<111.3> From the green shoar, each neighbouring creek grows dry. But why do I so pettishly detract An age that is so perfect, so exact? In all things excellent, it is a fame Or glory to deceased Lovelace name: For he is weak in wit, who doth deprave Anothers worth to make his own seem brave; And this was not his aim: nor is it mine. I now conceive the scope of their designe, Which is with one consent to bring and burn Contributary incence on his urn, Where each mans love and fancy shall be try'd, As when great Johnson or brave Shakespear dyed. Wits must unite: for ignorance, we see, Hath got a great train of artillerie: Yet neither shall nor can it blast the fame And honour of deceased Lovelace name, Whose own LUCASTA can support his credit Amongst all such who knowingly have read it; But who that praise can by desert discusse Due to those poems that are posthumous? And if the last conceptions are the best, Those by degrees do much transcend the rest; So full, so fluent, that they richly sute With Orpheus lire, or with Anacreons lute, And he shall melt his wing, that shall aspire To reach a fancy or one accent higher. Holland and France have known his nobler parts, And found him excellent in arms and arts. To sum up all, few men of fame but know, He was TAM MARTI, QUAM MERCURIO.<111.4>
<111.1> Burning.
<111.2> Original has WE.
<111.3> A fine image!
<111.4> The motto originally employed by George Gascoigne, who, like Lovelace, wielded both the sword and the pen.
TO HIS NOBLE FRIEND CAPT. DUDLEY LOVELACE UPON HIS EDITION OF HIS BROTHERS POEMS.
Thy pious hand, planting fraternal bayes, Deserving is of most egregious praise; Since 'tis the organ doth to us convey From a descended sun so bright a ray. Clear spirit! how much we are bound to thee For this so great a liberalitie, The truer worth of which by much exceeds The western wealth, which such contention breeds! Like the Infusing-God, from the well-head Of poesie you have besprinkled Our brows with holy drops, the very last, Which from your Brother's happy pen were cast: Yet as the last, the best; such matchlesse skill From his divine alembick did distill. Your honour'd Brother in the Elyzian shade Will joy to know himself a laureat made By your religious care, and that his urn Doth him on earth immortal life return. Your self you have a good physician shown To his much grieved friends and to your own, In giving this elixir'd medecine, For greatest grief a soveraign anodine. Sir, from your Brother y' have convey'd us bliss; Now, since your genius so concurs with his, Let your own quill our next enjoyments frame; All must be rich, that's grac'd with Lovelace name. Symon Ognell M.D.<112.1> Coningbrens.
<112.1> This person is not mentioned in Munk's Roll of the Royal College of Physicians, 1861.
ON THE TRULY HONOURABLE COLL. RICHARD LOVELACE, OCCASIONED BY THE PUBLICATION OF HIS POSTHUME-POEMS.
ELEGIE.
Great son of Mars, and of Minerva too! With what oblations must