The Works of Mr. A. Cowley; in prose and verse. A new edition. Pointing out the pieces selected by Richard Hurd, D.D, late Bishop of Worcester; and including his lordship's notes, and Dr. Johnson's life of the author

Front matter

rra WORKS '.7 MR. A. COWLEY; IS PROSE ASD VERSE, C. Whittingham, Goswell-StreeU I. o N i> o > TVn_l«l for JOHN 3II.U_PE.iii J»lrCAD-__I_Y'. MDCCC1X. THE d:r_k.3 _ih _p_ro.s_e _&H_D> -y_E__l>S_F__ OF .MR.A.eowi.KV; >V|TM NOTKS m IM! Ill' un, I. ATI'. BISHOP OK WORCK STEH . 1 j«jrr*iT«_ In .Lrt,\irmcr . VOTJTME tiiH SECIOTO) "Ft.ro-ot his Kpu.nav E_____d_arte art ; Hut still >w lovrih<" language ol* his heart-* ' POPE . IBB WORKS '--- MR. A. COWLEY: IS PROSE ASD VERSE. A NEW EDITION. HJOnXJfG OCT THE PIECES RICHARD HURD, D. D. LATE EISBOP Ot WORCESTER, ATD INCLUDING HIS LORDSHIP'S NOTES, AID DR. JOHS-Jj^ ? LIFE OP THE ACTHOE. VOL IL LO.VDO.Y; FEIXTED POE JOHN SHAEPE, OPPOSITE ALBANY. PICCADILLY. U09. CONTENTS OF THE SECOND VOLUME. #** The Pieces selected by Bishop Hurd are in this Table printed in Italics.

THE MISTRESS; or, several copies of love-letters. rage The Request 3 The Thraldom 5 The Given Love 7 The Spring 10 Written in Juice of Lemon , 12 Inconstancy 14 Not Fair 15 PlatonickLove 16 The Change 17 Clad all in White 18 Leaving me, and then loving many 20 My heart discovered 21 Answer to the Platonicks 22 The Vain Love. Loving one first because she could love Nobody, afterwards loving her with Desire 24 The Soul 26 The Passions 28 Wisdom , 30 Tbe Despair 31 The Av~ish .' 32 My Diet 34 The Thief 35 All-over Love 36 Love and Life • CONTENTS. Fa« The Eargain 38 The Long Life 40 Counsel 41 Resolved to be beloved 42 The same 44 The Discovery 45 Against Fruition 46 Love undiscovered 47 The given Heart 48 The Prophet 49 The Resolution 51 Called Inconstant ib. The Welcome 52 The Heart fled again 54 Women's Superstition 55 The Soul 56 Echo 57 The Rich Rival 58 Against Hope 59 For Hope 60 Love's Ingratitude 62 The Frailty 63 Coldness 64 Enjoyment 65 Sleep 66 Beauty 67 The Parting 69 My Picture 70 The Concealment 71 The Monopoly 72 The Distance 74 The Increase 75 Love's Visibility 76 Looking on, and discoursing with, his Mistress 77 Resolved to love 78 My Fate CONTENTS.

Vazc The Heart-breaking 80 The Usurpation 81 Maidenhead 83 Impossibilities 84 Silence 86 The Dissembler 87 The Inconstant 83 The Constant 90 Her Name 91 Weeping 92 Discretion 93 The Waiting-maid 95 Counsel 96 The Cure ib. The Separation 97 The Tree 98 Her Unbelief 99 The Gazers 100 The Incurable 102 Honour 103 The Innocent 111 104 Dialogue 106 Verses lost upon a Wager 108 Bathing in the River 110 Love given over 112 The Force of Love 113 Epigram on the Power of Love 116 PINDARIC ODES, WRITTEN IN IMITATION OF THE STYLE AND MANNER OF THE ODES OF PINDAR. Preface 119 The second Olympick Ode of Pindar 123 The first Nemæan Ode of Pindar 131 The Praise of Pindar. In Imitation of Horace's second Ode,BookIV. CONTENTS. Page The Resurrection 139 The Muse 142 To Mr. Hobbes 14S Destiny 148 Brutus 151 To Dr. Scarborough 154 Life and Fame 158 The Ecstacy 160 To the New Year 163 Life 166 The Thirty-fourth Chapter of the Prophet Isaiah 168 The Plagues of Egypt 172 DAVIDEIS, A SACRED POEM OF THE TROUBLES OF DAVID.

Preface

. IF a man should undertake to translate Pindar word for word, it would be thought that one madman had translated another ; as may appear, when he that understands not the original, reads the verbal traduction of him into Latin prose, than which nothing seems more raving. And sure, rhyme, without the addition of wit, and the spirit of poetry (" quod nequeo monstrare & sentio tantum"), would but make it ten times more distracted than it is in prose. We must consider in Pindar the great difference of time betwixt his age and ours, which changes, as in pictures, at least the colours of poetry ; the no less difference betwixt the religions and customs of our countries ; and a thousand par ticularities of places, persons, and manners? which do but confusedly appear to our eyes at so great a distance.

And lastly (which were enough alone for my purpose) we must consider that our ears are strangers to the musick of his numbers, which some times (especially in songs and odes), almost without any thing else, makes an excellent poet ; for though

PREFACE.

. 120 the grammarians and criticks have laboured to re duce his verses into regular feet and measures (as they have also those of the Greek and Latin come dies), yet in effect they are little better than prose to our ears. And I would gladly know what applause our best pieces of English poesy could expect from a Frenchman or Italian, if converted faith fully, and word for word, into French or Italian prose. And when we have considered all this, we must needs confess, that after all these losses sus tained by Pindar, all we can add to him by our wit or invention (not deserting still his subject) is not like to make him a richer man than he was in his own country. This is in some measure to be ap plied to all translations ; and the not observing of it, is the cause that all which ever I yet saw, are so much inferior to their originals.

The like happens too in pictures, from the same root of exact imitation ; which, being a vile and unworthy kind of ser vitude, is incapable of producing any thing good or noble. I have seen originals, both in painting and poesy, much more beautiful than their natural objects ; but I never saw a copy better than the original : which indeed cannot be otherwise ; for, men resolving in no case to shoot beyond the mark, it is a thousand to one if they shoot not short of it. It does not at all trouble me that the grammarians perhaps will not suffer this libertine way of render ing foreign authors to be called Translation ; for I am not so much enamoured of the name Translator,

PREFACE.

. 121 as not to wish rather to be something better, though it want yet a name. I speak not so much all this, in defence of my manner of translating, or imitating (or what other title they please) the two ensuing Odes of Pindar ; for that would not deserve half these words; as by this occasion to rectify the opi nion of divers men upon this matter. The Psalms of David (which I believe to have been in their original, to the Hebrews of his time, though not to our Hebrews of Buxtorfius's making, the most ex alted pieces of poesy) are a great example of what I have said ; all the translators of which (even Mr. Sandys himself; for, in despite of popular error, I will be bold not to except him), for this very reason, that they have not sought to supply the lost excel lencies of another language with new ones in their own, are so far from doing honour, or at least jus tice, to that divine poet, that methinks they revile him worse than Shimei.

And Buchanan himself (though much the best of them all, and indeed a great person) comes in my opinion no less short of David, than his country does of Judea. Upon this ground I have, in these two Odes of Pindar, taken, left out, and added, what I please ; nor make it so much my aim to let the reader know precisely what he spoke, as what was his way and manner of speak ing; which has not been yei (that I know of ) in troduced into English, though it be the noblest and highest kind of writing in verse ; -and which might,

PREFACE.

. perhaps, be put into the list of Pancirolus, among the lost inventions of antiquity. This essay is but to try how it will look in an English habit : for which experiment, I have chosen one of his Olympick, and another of his Nemæan Odes ; which are as followeth. THE SECOND OLYMPICK ODE OF PINDAR. Written in praise of Theron, prince of Agrigentum (a famous city in Sicily, built by his ancestors), who, in the seventy-seventh Olympick, won the chariot-prize. He is commended from the nobility of his race (whose story is often toucht on) ; from his great riches (an ordinary common-place in Pindar) ; from /Rs hospitality, munificence, and other virtues. The Ode (according to the constant custom of the Poet) consists more in digres~ sions than in the main subject : and the Reader must not be choqued to hear him speak so often of his own Muse ; for that ts a liberty which this kind of poetry can hardly live without.

QUEEN of all harmonious things, Dancing words, and speaking strings ! What God, what Hero, wilt thou sing ? What happy man to equal glories bring ? Begin, begin th)' noble choice, And let the hills around reflect the image of thy voice. Pisa does to Jove belong ; Jove and Pisa claim thy song. The fair first-fruits of war, th' Olympick games, Alcides offer'd-up to Jove ; Alcides too thy strings may move ; But, oh ! what man to join with these can worthy prove ! Join Theron boldly to their sacred names ; Theron the next honour claims ; Theron to no man gives place, Is first in Pisa's and in Virtue's race ; Theron there, and he alone, Ev'n his own swift forefathers has outgone. They through rough ways, o'er many stops theypass'd, Till on the fatal bank at last They Agrigentum built, the beauteous eye Of fair-fac'd Sicily : Which does itself i' th' river by With pride and joy espy.

Then cheerful notes their painted years did sing, And Wealth was one, and Honour th' other, wing ; Their genuine virtues did more sweet and clear, In Fortune's graceful dress, appear. To which, great son of Rhea ! say The firm word which forbids things to decay ! If in Olympus' top, where thou Sitt'st to behold thy sacred show ; If in Alpheus' silver flight; If in my verse thou dost delight, My verse, O Rhea's son ! which is Lofty as that, and smooth as this. For the past sufferings of this noble race (Since things once past, and fled out of thine hand, Hearken no more to thy command) Let present joys fill up their place, SECOND OLYMPICK ODE. 125 And with Oblivion's silent stroke deface Of foregone ills the very trace. In no illustrious line Do these happy changes shine More brightly, Theron ! than in thine.

So, in the crystal palaces Of the blue-ey'd Nereides, Ino her endless youth does please, And thanks her fall into the seas. Beauteous Semele does no less Her cruel midwife, Thunder, bless ; Whilst, sporting with the Gods on high, She' enjoys secure their company ; Plays with lightnings as they fly, Nor trembles at the bright embraces of the Deity. But death did them from future dangers free ; What God, alas ! will caution be For living man's security, Or will ensure our vessel in this faithless sea ? Never did the sun as yet So healthful a fair-day beget, That travelling mortals might rely on it. But Fortune's favour and her spite Roll with alternate waves like day and night: Vicissitudes which thy great race pursue, E'er since the fatal son his father slew, And did old oracles fulfil Of Gods that cannot lye, for they foretell but their own will.

Erynnis saw 't, and made in her own seed The innocent Parricide to bleed ; She slew his wrathful sons with mutual blows: But better things did then succeed, And brave Thersander, in amends for what was past, arose. Brave Thersander was by none, In war, or warlike sports, out-done. Thou, Theron, his great virtues dost revive ; He in my verse and thee again does live. Loud Olympus happy thee, Isthmus and Nemæa does twice happy see ; For the well-natur'd honour there, Which with thy brother thou didst share, Was to thee double grown By not being all thine own ; And those kind pious glories do deface The old fraternal quarrel of thy race. Greatness of mind and fortune too Th' Olympick trophies shew : Both their several parts must do In the noble chace of fame ; This without that is blind, that without this is Nor is fair Virtue's picture seen aright lame.

But in Fortune's golden light. Riches alone are of uncertain date, And on short man long cannot wait; The virtuous make of them the best, And put them out to Fame for interest ; SECOND OLYMPICK ODE. 127 With a frail good they wisely buy The solid purchase of eternity : They, whilst life's air they breathe, considerwell, and know Th' account they must hereafter give below ; Whereas th' unjust and covetous above, In deep unlovely vaults, By the just decrees of Jove, Unrelenting torments prove, The heavy necessary effects of voluntary faults. Whilst in the lands of unexhausted light, O'er which the god-like sun's unwearied sight Ne'er winks in clouds, or sleeps in night, And endless spring of age the good enjoy, Where neither Want does pinch, nor Plenty cloy : There neither earth nor sea they plow, Nor aught to labour owe For food, that whilst it nourishes does decay, And in the lamp of life consumes away.

Thrice had these men through mortal bodies pass'd, Did thrice the trial undergo, Till all their little dross was purg'd at last, The furnace had no more to do. Then in rich Saturn's peaceful state Were they for sacred treasures plac'd, The Muse-discovered world of Islands Fortunate. "Soft-footed winds with tuneful voices there Dance through the perfum'd air : There silver rivers through enamel'd meadows glide, And golden trees enrich their side ; The illustrious leaves no dropping autumn fear, And jewels for their fruit they bear, Which by the blest are gathered For bracelets to the arm, and garlands to the head. Here all the Heroes, and their Poets, live ; Wise Rhadamanthus did the sentence give, Who for his justice was thought fit With sovereign Saturn on the bench to sit. Peleus here, and Cadmus, reign ; Here great Achilles, wrathful now no more, Since his blest mother (who before Had try'd it on his body' in vain) Dipp'd now his soul in Stygian lake, Which did from thence a divine hardness take, That does from passion and from vice invulnerable make.

To Theron, Muse ! bring back thy wandering song, Whom those bright troops expect impatiently ; And may they do so long ! How, noble archer ! do thy wanton arrows fly At all the game that docs but cross thine eye ! Shoot, and spare not, for I see Thy sounding quiver can ne'er emptied be : Let Art use method and good-husbandry, Art lives on Nature's alms, is weak and poor ; Nature herself has unexhausted store, SECOND OLYMPICK ODE. 129 Wallows in wealth, and runs a turning maze, That no vulgar eye can trace. Art, instead of mounting high, About her humble food does hovering fly ; Like the ignoble crow, rapine and noise does love : Whilst Nature, like the sacred bird of Jove, Now bears loud thunder ; and anon with silent joy The beauteous Phrygian boy Defeats the strong, o'ertakes the flying prey, And sometimes basks in th' open flames of day ; And sometimes too he shrowds His soaring wings among the clouds.

Leave, wanton Muse ! thy roving flight ; To thy loud string the well-fletcht arrow put ; Let Agrigentum be the Butt, And Theron be the White. And, lest the name of verse should give Malicious men pretext to misbelieve, By the Castalian waters swear (A sacred oath no poets dare To take m vain, No more than Gods do that of Styx profane), Swear, in no city e'er before, A better man, or greater-soul'd, was born ; Swear, that Theron sure has sworn No man near him should be poor ; Swear, that none e'er had such a graceful art Fortune's free gifts as freely to impart, With an unenvious hand, and an unbounded heart. vol. 11. If But in this thankless world the givers Are envied ev'n by the receivers : 'T is now the cheap and frugal fashion, Rather to hide, than pay, the obligation Nay, 't is much worse than so ; It now an artifice does grow, Wrongs and outrages to do, Lest men should think we owe.

Such monsters, Theron ! has thy virtue found But all the malice they profess, Thy secure honour cannot wound ; For thy vast bounties are so numberless, That them or to conceal, or else to tell, Is equally impossible ! t 131 ] THE FIRST NEMÆAN ODE OF PINDAR. Chromius, the son of Agesidamus, a young gentleman of Sicily, is celebrated for having won the prize of the chariot-race in the Nemtean games (a solemnity instituted first to celebrate the funeral of Opheltes, as is at large described by Stat'ius ; and afterwards continued every third year* with an extraordinary conflux of all Greece, and with incredible honour to the conquerors in all the exercises there practised), upon which occasion the poet begin$ with the commendation of his country) which I take to have been Ortygia (an island belonging to Sicily, and a part of Syracuse, being joined to it by a bridge), though the title of the Ode call him Ætn&an Chromius, perhaps because he was made governor of that town by Hieron.

From thence he falls into the praise of Chromius''s person, which he draws from his great endowments of mind and body, and most especially from his hospitality, and the worthy use of his riches. He likens his beginning to that of Hercules ; and, according to his usual manner of being transported with any good hint that meets him in his way, passing into a digression of Hercules, and his slaying the two serpents in his cradle, concludes the Ode with that history. BEAUTEOUS Ortygia ! the first breathing-place Of great Alpheus' close and amorous race ! Fair Delos' sister, the child-bed Of bright Latona, where she bred Th' original new-moon ! Who saw'st her tender forehead ere the horns were grown Who, like a gentle scion newly started out, From Syracusa's side dost sprout ! Thee first my song does greet, With numbers smooth and fleet As thine own horses' airy feet, When they young Chromius' chariot drew, And o'er the Nemæan race triumphant flew.

Jove will approve my song and me ; Jove is concern'd in Nemea, and in thee. With Jove my song ; this happy man, Young Chromius, too, with Jove began ; From hence came his success, Nor ought he therefore like it less, Since the best fame is that of happiness ; For whom should we esteem above The men whom Gods do love ? 'T is them alone the Muse too does approve. Lo ! how it makes this victory shine O'er all the fruitful isle of Proserpine ! The torches which the mother brought When the ravish'd maid she sought, Appear'd not half so bright, But cast a weaker light, Through earth, and air, and seas, and up to th' heavenly vault. " To thee, O Proserpine ! this isle I give," Said Jove, and, as he said, Smil'd,' and bent his gracious head. FIRST NEMÆAN ODE. 133 " And thou, O isle !" said he, " for ever thrive, " And keep the value of our gift alive !

" As Heaven with stars, so let " The country thick with towns be set, " And numberless as stars ! " Let all the towns be then " Replenish'd thick with men, " Wise in peace, and bold in wars ! " Of thousand glorious towns the nation, * Of thousand glorious men each town a constella- " tion ! " Nor let their warlike laurel scorn " With the Olympick olive to be worn, " Whose gentler honours do so well the brows of " peace adorn !" Go to great Syracuse, my Muse, and wait At Chromius' hospitable gate ; 'T will open wide to let thee in, When thy lyre's voice shall but begin ; Joy, plenty, and free welcome, dwells within. The Tyrian beds thou shalt find ready drest, The ivory table crowded with a feast : The table which is free for every guest, No doubt will thee admit, And feast more upon thee, than thou on it.

Chromius and thou art met aright, For, as by nature thou dost write, So he by nature loves, and does by nature fight. Nature herself, whilst in the womb he was, Sow'd strength and beauty through the forming mass ; They mov'd the vital lump in every part, And carv'd the members out with wondrous art She fill'd his mind with courage, and with wit. And a vast bounty, apt and fit For the great dower which Fortune made to it 'T is madness sure treasures to hoard, And make them useless, as in mines, remain, To lose th' occasion Fortune does afford Fame and publick love to gain : Ev'n for self-concerning ends, 'T is wiser much to hoard-up friends. Though happy men the present goods possess, Th' unhappy have their share in future hopes no less. How early has young Chromius begun The race of virtue, and how swiftly run, And borne the noble prize away, Whilst other youths yet at the barriers stay !

None but Alcides e'er set earlier forth than he : The God, his father's, blood nought could restrain, 'T was ripe at first, and did disdain The slow advance of dull humanity. The big-limb'd babe in his huge cradle lay, Too weighty to be rock'd by nurses' hands, Wrapt in purple swadling-bands ; FIRST NEMÆAN ODE. 135 When, lo ! by jealous Juno's fierce commands, Two dreadful serpents come, Rolling and hissing loud, into the room ; To the bold babe they trace their bidden way ; Forth from their flaming eyes dread lightnings Went, Their gaping mouths did forked tongues, like thunder-bolts, present. Some of th' amazed women dropp'd down dead With fear, some wildly fled About the room, some into corners crept, Where silently they shook and wept : All naked from her bed the passionate mother leap'd, To save or perish with her child ; She trembled, and she cry'd ; the mighty infant * smil'd • smil'd : The mighty infant seem'd well pleas'd At his gay gilded foes ; And, as their spotted necks up to the cradle rose, With his young warlike hands on both he seiz'd ; In vain they rag'd, in vain they hiss'd, In vain their armed tails they twist, And angry circles cast about ; Black blood, and fiery breath, and poisonous soul, he squeezes out !

With their drawn swords In ran Amphitryo and the Theban lords ; With doubting wonder, and with troubled joy, They saw the conquering boy Laugh, and point downwards to his prey, Where, in death's pangs and their own gore, they folding lay. When wise Tiresias this beginning knew, He told with ease the things t' ensue ; From what monsters he should free The earth, the air, and sea; What mighty tyrants he should slay, Greater monsters far than they ; How much at Phlægra's field the distress Gods should owe To their great offspring here below ; And how his club should there outdo Apollo's silver bow, and his own father's thunder too. And that the grateful Gods, at last, The race of his laborious virtue past, Heaven, which he sav'd, should to him give ; Where, marry'd to eternal youth, he should for ever live ; Drink nectar with the Gods, and all his senses please In their harmonious, golden palaces ; Walk with ineffable delight Through the thick groves of never-withering light, And, as he walks, affright The lion and the bear, Bull, centaur, scorpion, all the radiant monsters there.

THE PRAISE OF PINDAR. IN IMITATION OF HORACES SECOND ODE, B.IV. •" Pindarum quisquis studet æmulari, SfC." PlNDAR is imitable by none ; The Phœnix Pindar is a vast species alone. Who e'er but Dædalus with waxen wings could fly, And neither sink too low nor soar too high ? What could he who follow'd claim, But of vain boldness the unhappy fame, And by his fall a sea to name ? Pindar's unnavigable song Like a swoln flood from some steep mountain pours along ; The ocean meets with such a voice, From his enlarged mouth, as drowns the ocean's noise. So Pindar does new words and figures roll Down his impetuous dithyrambick tide, Which in no channel deigns f abide, Which neither banks nor dykes control Whether th' immortal Gods he sings, In a no less immortal strain, Or the great acts of God-descended kings, Who in his numbers still survive and reign ; Each rich-embroider'd line, Which their triumphant brows around By his sacred hand is bound, Does all their starry diadems outshine, Whether at Pisa's race he please To carve in polish'd verse the conqueror's images ; Whether the swift, the skilful, or the strong, Be crowned in his nimble, artful, vigorous song; Whether some brave young man's untimely fate, In words worth dying for, he celebrate — Such mournful, and such pleasing words, As joy to his mother's and his mistress' grief affords — He bids him live and grow in fame ; Among the stars he sticks his name ; The grave can but the dross of him devour, So small is Death's, so great the Poet's, power !

Lo, how th' obsequious wind, and swelling air, The Theban swan does upwards bear Into the walks of clouds, where he does play, And with extended wings opens his liquid way ! Whilst, alas ! my timorous Muse Unambitious tracks pursues ; Does with weak, unballast wings, About the mossy brooks and springs, About the trees' new-blossom'd heads, About the gardens' painted beds, About the fields and flowery meads, THE RESURRECTION. 139 And all inferior beauteous things, Like the laborious bee, For little drops of honey flee, And there with humble sweets contents her industry. THE RESURRECTION. IS OT winds to voyagers at sea, Nor showers to earth more necessary be (Heaven's vital seed cast on the womb of earth To give the fruitful year a birth) Than Verse to Virtue ; which can do The midwife's office and the nurse's too ; It feeds it strongly, and it clothes it gay, And, when it dies, with comely pride Embalms it, and erects a pyramid That never will decay Till heaven itself shall melt away, And nought behind it stay.

Begin the song, and strike the living lyre ; Lo ! how the years to come, a numerous and wellfitted quire, All hand in hand do decently advance, And to my song with smooth and equal measures dance ! Whilst the dance lasts, how long soe'er it be, My musick's voice shall bear it company ; Till all gentle notes be drown'd In the last trumpet's dreadful sound : That to the spheres themselves shall silence bring, Untune the universal string : Then all the wide-extended sky, And all th' harmonious worlds on high, And Virgil's sacred work, shall die ; And he himself shall see in one fire shine Rich Nature's ancient Troy, though built by hands divine. Whom thunder's dismal noise, And all that prophets and apostles louder spake, And all the creatures' plain conspiring voice, Could not, whilst they liv'd, awake, This mightier sound shall make When dead t' arise ; And open tombs, and open eyes, To the long sluggards of five thousand years !

This mightier sound shall make its hearers ears. Then shall the scattered atoms crowding come Back to their ancient home ; Some from birds, from fishes some; Some from earth, and some from seas ; Some from beasts, and some from trees ; Some descend from clouds on high, Some from metals upwards fly, And, where th' attending soul naked and shivering stands, Meet, salute, and join their hands ; THE RESURRECTION. 141 As dispers'd soldiers, at the trumpet's call, Haste to their colours all. Unhappy most, like tortur'd men, Their joints new set, to be new-rack'd again, To mountains they for shelter pray, The mountains shake, and run about no less confus'd than they. Stop, stop, my Muse ! allay thy vigorous heat, Kindled at a hint so great ; Hold thy Pindarick Pegasus closely in, Which does to rage begin, And this steep hill would gallop up with violent course ; 'T is an unruly and a hard-mouth'd horse, Fierce and unbroken yet, Impatient of the spur or bit ; Now prances statety, and anonflies o'er the place ; Disdains the servile law of any settled pace, Conscious and proud of his own natural force. 'T will no unskilful touch endure, But flings writer and reader too, that sits not sure.

THE MUSE. GO, the rich chariot instantly prepare ; The Queen, my Muse, will take the air : Unruly Fancy with strong Judgment trace ; Put in nimble-footed Wit, Smooth-pac'd Eloquence join with it ; Sound Memory with young Invention place; Harness all the winged race. Let the postillion Nature mount, and let The coachman Art be set ; And let the airy footmen, running all beside, Make a long row of goodly pride, Figures, Conceits, Raptures, and Sentences, In a well-worded dress ; And innocent Loves, and pleasant Truths, and use ful Lyes, In all their gaudy liveries. Mount, glorious Queen ! thy travelling throne, And bid it to put on ; For long, though cheerful, is the way, And life, alas ! allows but one ill winter's day. Where never foot of man, or hoof of beast, The passage press'd ; Where never fish did fly, And with short silver wings cut the low liquid sky ; Where bird with painted oars did ne'er Row through the trackless ocean of the air ; THE MUSE. 143 Where never yet did pry The busy morning's curious eye ; The wheels of thy bold coach pass quick and free, And all 's an open road to thee !