Only by fenfe, thofe creatures which have leaft
Of reafon, moft enjoy.
Ye gods, was it man's nature or his fate,
Betray'd him with sweet pleafure's poifon'd bait ?
Which he, with all defigns of art, or pow'r,
Doth with unbridled appetite devour :
And as all poifons fuck the nobleft part,
Pleasure poffeffes first the head and heart,
Intoxicating both : By them, fhe finds,
And burns the facred temples of our minds.
Pleasures like wonders, quickly lose their price,
When reafon or experience makes us wife.
In my delights I can no limits bear.
But, for what reafon never could be known,
Our joys have bounds, and our defires have none.
Crown's Caligula. 2233.P O ETS. POET R Y.
O facred poefy, thou fp'rit of Roman arts,
The foul of fcience, and the queen of fouls!
What prophane violence, almost facrilege,
Hath here been offer'd thy divinity,
That thine own guiltless poverty should arm
Prodigious ignorance to wound thee thus?
For thence is all their force of argument
Drawn forth against thee; or from the abuse
Of thy great powers in adult'rate brains:
When fprits, would men learn but to distinguish
And fet true diff'rence 'twixt those jaded wits
That run a broken pace for common hire,
And the high raptures of a happy muse,
Borne on the wings of her immortal thought,
That kicks at earth with a disdainful heel,
And beats at heav'n's gates with her bright hoofs;
They would not then with fuch distorted faces,
And defp'rate cenfures, flab at poesy.
They would admire bright knowledge, and their minds
Should ne'er defcend on fo unworthy objects
As gold or titles: they would dread far more,
To be thought ignorant, than be known poor.
Verfe hath a middle nature; heav'n keeps fouls,
The grave keeps bodies, verfe the fame enrolls.
When heav'n would ftrive to do the beft it can,
And put an angel's spirit into man,
The utmost pow'r it hath, it then doth spend,
When to the world a poet it doth intend :
That little diff'rence 'twixt the gods and us,
By them confirm'd, diftinguifh'd only thus:
Whom they in birth ordain to happy days,
The gods commit their glory to our praise;
T'eternal life when they diffolve their breath,
We likewife share a fecond pow'r by death.
Drayton's E. of Surry to Lady Geraldine.
A verfe may find him who a fermon flies;
And turn delight into a facrifice.
You dare not, fir, blafpheme the virtuous use
Of facred poetry; nor the fame traduce
Of poets; who not alone immortal be,
But can give others immortality.
Poets that can men into stars translate,
And hurl men down under the feet of fate :
'Twas not Achilles' fword, but Homer's pen,
That made brave Hector die the beft of men:
And if that pow'rful Homer likewife would,
Hellen had been a hag, and Troy had stood.
Richard Brome's 'Sparagus Garden. How fhall my debts be paid? or can my scores Be clear'd with verfes to my creditors?
Hexameter's no sterling; and I fear
What the brain coins, goes fcarce for currant there.
Can meter cancel bonds? is there a time
Ever to hope to wipe out chalk with rhime ?
Or if I now were hurrying to a jail,
Are the nine mufes held fufficient bail?
Would they to any compofition come,
If we fhould mortgage our Elifium,
Tempe, Parnaffus, and the golden ftreams
Of Tagus, and Paciolus, thofe rich dreams
Of active fancy?
Clowns for pofterity may cark and care;
That cannot out-live death but in an heir:
By more than wealth we propagate our names,
That truft not to fucceffions, but our fames.
A poet's then exact in ev'ry part
That is born one by nature, nurft by art:
Whofe happy mixture both of skill and fate,
Makes the moft fudden thought elaborate :
Whofe easy flrains a flowing fenfe does fit;
Unforc'd expreffions, and unravifh'd wit :
Words fill'd with equal fubject, fuch as brings
Tochofen language, high and chofen things.
Harth reafon clear as day, as fmooth as fleep,
Glide here like rivers, even ftill though deep:
Difcords grow mufick; grief itself delight;
Horror when he defcribes, leaves off t'affright.
Sullen philofophy does learn to go
In lightest dreffings, and becomes them too.
Poets are truly poor; but only then,
When each a hero lacks for his own pen.
They pine when mighty arguments are scant;
And not, when they that trifle, treasure, want.
As at fuch dearth they languifh, fo they feem
To fwell, when they have got a plenteous theme;
For rafhly then the mufes take their flight:
Yet as a man, o'erjoy'd at fudden fight
Of treasure found, grows jealous, and through care,
Left others in his prize should claim a share,
Bears haftily from that which he did find
Much less away, than what he leaves behind :
So, whilft thus rafhly I convey to fame
Your virtues, I fo few of them proclaim,
That many more are left behind unprais'd,
Than thofe, which on this poem's wings are rais'd.
How glad will all difcreeter poets be,
Becaufe, whilft in their choice they disagree,
They this imperfect present shall prevent,
Which darkens you, to whom it luftre meant ;
Or rather it does quite extinguish me;
Who looking up to you, do only fee
I by a fainting taper lofe my aim,
And lifting it too high, put out the flame.
Sir W. Davenant to the King.
Th'eternal caufe, in their immortal lines
Was taught; and poets were the first divines:
And Mofes, in the old original,
Ev'n God, the poet of the world doth call.
Poets by dangers, like old foldiers taught,
Grow wife; and fhun the fame which once they fought.
Prologue to Sir R. Howard's Vestal Virgin.
2. With equal eagernefs contend
Some to cry down, and others to commend:
So eafy 'tis to judge, fo hard to do;
'There's fo much frailty, yet fuch prying too;
That who their poetry to view expose,
Must be prepar'd to be abus'd in profe.
Alexander Brome on Richard Brome.
A poem's life and death dependeth ftill
Not on the poet's wit, but reader's will.
POLITICIA N.239.
This lump of projects, ere it be lick'd o'er,
Is like a bear's conception: Stratagems
B'ing but begot, and not get out; are like
Charg'd cannons not discharg'd; they do no harm
Nor good: True policy, breeding in the brain,
Is like a bar of iron, whose ribs b'ing broken,
And soften'd i'th' fire, you then may forge it
Into a fword to kill, or to a helmet,
To defend life: 'Tis therefore wit to try
All fafhions, ere y' apparel villany.
In ftate, is a ridic'lous miracle ;
Friendship is but a vizor, beneath which
A wife man laughs to fee whole families
Ruin'd; upon whose miserable pile
He mounts to glory.
Chapman and Shirley's Admiral of France.
Justice to live, doth nought but juftice need,
But policy muft ftill on mischief feed :
Untruth, for all his ends, truth's name doth fue in ;
None fafely live, but those that study ruin.
Chapman's Revenge of Buffey D'ambois.
For who obferves ftrict policy's true laws,
Shifts his proceeding to the varying cause.
A politician, Proteus-like, muft alter
His face and habit; and like water, seem
Of the fame colour that the veffel is
That doth contain it; varying his form
With the camelion at each object's change.
My tongue muft
With paffionate oaths and proteftations,
With fighs, finooth glances, and officious terms,
Spread artificial mifts before the eyes
Of cred'lous fimplicity: He that will be high,
Must be a parafite, to fawn and lie.
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