Turned into English.
By Death, alas, here Conquer'd lies,
She who from All late bore the Prize
In Beauty, Wit, Vertue Divine:
In whom those Graces did combine,
Which we admir'd in others see,
When they but singly scatter'd be!
Who her, _so Great_, can paint beside,
The Pencil her own Hand did guide?
What Verse can celebrate her Fame,
But such as She herself did frame?
Though much Excellence she did show,
And many Qualities did know,
Yet this, alone, she could not tell,
To wit, _How much she did excel_.
Or if her Worth she rightly knew,
More to her Modesty was due,
That Parts in her no Pride could raise }
Desirous still to merit Praise, }
But fled, as she deserv'd, the Bays. }
Contented always to retire,
Court Glory she did not admire;
Although it lay so neer and faire,
It's Grace to none more open were:
But with the World how should she close,
Who _Christ_ in her first Childhood chose?
So with her Parents she did live,
That they to Her did Honour give,
As she to them. In a Num'rous Race
And Vertuous, the highest Place
None envy'd her: Sisters, Brothers
Her Admirers were and Lovers:
She was to all s'obliging sweet,
All in One Love to her did meet.
A Virgin-Life not only led,
But it's Example might be said.
The Ages Ornament, the Name
That gave her Sex and Country Fame.
Those who her Person never knew,
Will hardly think these things are true:
But those that did, will More believe,
And higher things of her conceive.
Thy Eyes in tears now, Reader, steep:
For Her if't lawful be to weep,
Whose blessed and Seraphique End
Angels in Triumph did attend.
Alexandreis.
I Sing the Man that never Equal knew,
Whose Mighty Arms all _Asia_ did subdue,
Whose Conquests through the spacious World do ring,
That City-Raser, King-destroying King,
Who o're the Warlike _Macedons_ did Reign,
And worthily the Name of _Great_ did gain.
This is the Prince (if Fame you will believe,
To ancient Story any credit give.)
Who when the Globe of Earth he had subdu'd,
With Tears the easie Victory pursu'd;
Because that no more Worlds there were to win,
No further Scene to act his Glorys in.
Ah that some pitying _Muse_ would now inspire
My frozen style with a Poetique fire,
And Raptures worthy of his Matchless Fame,
Whose Deeds I sing, whose never fading Name
Long as the world shall fresh and deathless last,
No less to future Ages, then the past.
Great my presumption is, I must confess,
But if I thrive, my Glory's ne're the less;
Nor will it from his Conquests derogate
A Female Pen his Acts did celebrate.
If thou O _Muse_ wilt thy assistance give,
Such as made _Naso_ and great _Maro_ live,
With him whom _Melas_ fertile Banks did bear,
Live, though their Bodies dust and ashes are;
Whose Laurels were not fresher, than their Fame
Is now, and will for ever be the same.
If the like favour thou wilt grant to me,
O Queen of Verse, I'll not ungrateful be,
My choicest hours to thee I'll Dedicate,
'Tis thou shalt rule, 'tis thou shalt be my Fate.
But if Coy Goddess thou shalt this deny,
And from my humble suit disdaining fly,
I'll stoop and beg no more, since I know this,
Writing of him, I cannot write amiss:
His lofty Deeds will raise each feeble line,
And God-like Acts will make my Verse Divine.
'Twas at the time the golden Sun doth rise,
And with his Beams enlights the azure skies,
When lo a Troop in Silver Arms drew near,
The glorious Sun did nere so bright appear;
Dire Scarlet Plumes adorn'd their haughty Crests,
And crescent Shields did shade their shining Brests;
Down from their shoulders hung a Panthers Hide,
A Bow and Quiver ratled by their side;
Their hands a knotty well try'd Speare did bear,
Jocund they seem'd, and quite devoyd of fear.
These warlike Virgins were, that do reside
Near _Thermodons_ smooth Banks and verdant side,
The Plains of _Themiscyre_ their Birth do boast,
_Thalestris_ now did head the beauteous Host;
She emulating that Illustrious Dame,
Who to the aid of _Troy_ and _Priam_ came,
And her who the _Retulian_ Prince did aid,
Though dearly both for their Assistance paid.
But fear she scorn'd, nor the like fate did dread,
Her Host she often to the field had lead,
As oft in Triumph had return'd again,
Glory she only sought for all her pain.
This Martial Queen had heard how lowdly fame,
Eccho'd our Conquerors redoubted Name,
Her Soul his Conduct and his Courage fir'd,
To see the Heroe she so much admir'd;
And to _Hyrcania_ for this cause she went,
Where _Alexander_ (wholly then intent
On Triumphs and such Military sport)
At Truce with War held both his Camp and Court.
And while before the Town she did attend
Her Messengers return, she saw ascend
A cloud of Dust, that cover'd all the skie,
And still at every pause there stroke her eye.
The interrupted Beams of Burnisht Gold,
As dust the Splendour hid, or did unfold;
Loud Neighings of the Steeds, and Trumpets sound
Fill'd all the Air, and eccho'd from the ground:
The gallant _Greeks_ with a brisk March drew near,
And their great Chief did at their Head appear.
And now come up to th'_Amazonian_ Band,
They made a Hault and a respectful Stand:
And both the Troops (with like amazement strook)
Did each on other with deep silence look.
Th'Heroick Queen (whose high pretence to War
Cancell'd the bashful Laws and nicer Bar
Of Modesty, which did her Sex restrain)
First boldly did advance before her Train,
And thus she spake. All but a God in Name,
And that a debt Time owes unto thy Fame.
_This was the first Essay of this young Lady in Poetry, but
finding the Task she had undertaken hard, she laid it
by till Practice and more time should make her equal
to so great a Work._
To the Queen.
As those who pass the _Alps_ do say,
The Rocks which first oppose their way,
And so amazing-High do show,
By fresh Ascents appear but low,
And when they come unto the last,
They scorn the dwarfish Hills th'ave past.
So though my _Muse_ at her first flight,
Thought she had chose the greatest height,
And (imp'd with _Alexander_'s Name)
Believ'd there was no further Fame:
Behold an Eye wholly Divine
Vouchsaf'd upon my Verse to Shine!
And from that time I'gan to treat
With Pitty him the World call'd _Great_;
To smile at his exalted Fate,
Unequal (though Gigantick) State.
I saw that Pitch was not sublime,
Compar'd with this which now I climb;
His Glories sunk, and were unseen,
When once appear'd the Heav'n-born Queen:
Victories, Laurels, Conquer'd Kings,
Took place among inferiour things.
Now surely I shall reach the Clouds,
For none besides such Vertue shrouds:
Having scal'd this with holy Strains,
Nought higher but the Heaven remains!
No more I'll Praise on them bestow,
Who to ill Deeds their Glories owe;
Who build their _Babels_ of Renown,
Upon the poor oppressed Crown,
Whole Kingdoms do depopulate,
To raise a Proud and short-Liv'd State:
I prize no more such Frantick Might,
Than his that did with Wind-Mills Fight:
No, give me Prowess, that with Charms
Of Grace and Goodness, not with Harms,
Erects a Throne i'th' inward Parts,
And Rules mens Wills, but with their Hearts;
Who with Piety and Vertue thus
Propitiates God, and Conquers us.
O that now like _Araunah_ here,
Altars of Praises I could rear,
Suiting her worth, which might be seen
Like a Queens Present, to a Queen!
'Alone she stands for Vertues Cause,
When all decry, upholds her Laws:
When to Banish her is the Strife,
Keeps her unexil'd in her Life;
Guarding her matchless Innocence
From Storms of boldest Impudence;
In spight of all the Scoffs and Rage,
And Persecutions of the Age,
Owns Vertues Altar, feeds the Flame,
Adores her much-derided Name;
While impiously her hands they tie,
Loves her in her Captivity;
Like _Perseus_ saves her, when she stands
Expos'd to the _Leviathans_.
So did bright Lamps once live in Urns,
So Camphire in the water burns,
So _Ætna's_ Flames do ne'er go out,
Though Snows do freeze her head without.'
How dares bold Vice unmasked walk,
And like a Giant proudly stalk?
When Vertue's so exalted seen,
Arm'd and Triumphant in the Queen?
How dares its Ulcerous Face appear,
When Heavenly Beauty is so near?
But so when God was close at hand,
And the bright Cloud did threatning stand
(In sight of _Israel_) on the Tent,
They on in their Rebellion went.
O that I once so happy were,
To find a nearer Shelter there!
Till then poor Dove, I wandering fly
Between the Deluge and the Skie:
Till then I Mourn, but do not sing,
And oft shall plunge my wearied wing:
If her bless'd hand vouchsafe the Grace,
I'th'Ark with her to give a place,
I safe from danger shall be found,
When Vice and Folly others drown'd.
A Pastoral Dialogue.
_Dorinda._ _Sabæan_ Perfumes fragrant Roses bring,
With all the Flowers that Paint the gaudy Spring:
Scatter them all in young _Alexis_'s way,
With all that's sweet and (like himself) that's Gay.
_Alexis._ Immortal Laurels and as Lasting Praise,
Crown the Divine _Dorinda_'s matchless Laies:
May all Hearts stoop, where mine would gladly yield,
Had not _Lycoris_ prepossest the Field.
_Dor._ Would my _Alexis_ meet my noble Flame,
In all _Ausonia_ neither Youth nor Dame,
Should so renown'd in Deathless Numbers shine,
As thy exalted Name should do in mine.
_Alex._ He'll need no Trophie nor ambitious Hearse,
Who shall be honour'd by _Dorinda_'s Verse;
But where it is inscrib'd, _That here doth lie
Lycoris_'s _Love_. That Fame can never die.
_Dor._ On _Tyber_'s Bank I _Thyrsis_ did espie,
And by his side did bright _Lycoris_ lie;
She Crown'd his Head, and Kist his amorous Brow,
Ah Poor _Alexis_! Ah then where wer't thou?
_Alex._ When thou saw'st that, I ne'r had seen my Fair,
And what pass'd then ought not to be my Care;
I liv'd not then, but first began to be,
When I _Lycoris_ Lov'd, and she Lov'd me.
_Dor._ Ah choose a Faith, a Faith that's like thine own,
A Virgin Love, a Love that's newly blown:
'Tis not enough a Maidens Heart is chast,
It must be Single, and not once mis-plac't.
_Alex._ Thus do our Priests of Heavenly Pastures tell,
Eternal Groves, all Earthly, that excel:
And think to wean us from our Loves below,
By dazling Objects which we cannot know.
On Death.
Tell me thou safest End of all our Woe,
Why wreched Mortals do avoid thee so:
Thou gentle drier o'th' afflicteds Tears,
Thou noble ender of the Cowards Fears;
Thou sweet Repose to Lovers sad dispaire,
Thou Calm t'Ambitions rough Tempestuous Care.
If in regard of Bliss thou wert a Curse,
And then the Joys of Paradise art worse;
Yet after Man from his first Station fell,
And God from _Eden_ _Adam_ did expel,
Thou wert no more an Evil, but Relief;
The Balm and Cure to ev'ry Humane Grief:
Through thee (what Man had forfeited before)
He now enjoys, and ne'r can loose it more.
No subtile Serpents in the Grave betray,
Worms on the Body there, not Soul do prey;
No Vice there Tempts, no Terrors there afright,
No Coz'ning Sin affords a false delight:
No vain Contentions do that Peace annoy,
No feirce Alarms break the lasting Joy.
Ah since from thee so many Blessings flow,
Such real Good as Life can never know;
Come when thou wilt, in thy afrighting'st Dress,
Thy Shape shall never make thy Welcome less.
Thou mayst to Joy, but ne'er to fear give Birth,
Thou Best, as well as Certain'st thing on Earth.
Fly thee? May Travellers then fly their Rest,
And hungry Infants fly the profer'd Brest.
No, those that faint and tremble at thy Name,
Fly from their Good on a mistaken Fame.
Thus Childish fear did _Israel_ of old
From Plenty and the Promis'd Land with-hold;
They fancy'd Giants, and refus'd to go,
When _Canaan_ did with Milk and Honey flow.
First EPIGRAM.
_Upon being Contented with a Little._
We deem them moderate, but _Enough_ implore,
What barely will suffice, and ask no more:
Who say, (O Jove) _a competency give,
Neither in Luxury, or Want we'd live_.
But what is that, which these _Enough_ do call?
If both the _Indies_ unto some should fall,
Such Wealth would yet _Enough_ but onely be,
And what they'd term not Want, or Luxury.
Among the Suits, _O Jove_, my humbler take;
_A little give, I that Enough will make_.
_The Second_ EPIGRAM.
_On_ BILLINDA.
Wanton _Billinda_ loudly does complain,
I've chang'd my Love of late into disdain:
Calls me unconstant, cause I now adore
The chast _Marcella_, that lov'd her before.
Sin or Dishonour, me as well may blame,
That I repent, or do avoid a shame.
The Third EPIGRAM.
_On an_ ATHEIST.
_Posthumus_ boasts he does not Thunder fear,
And for this cause would Innocent appear;
That in his Soul no Terrour he does feel,
At threatn'd Vultures, or _Ixion_'s Wheel,
Which fright the Guilty: But when _Fabius_ told
What Acts 'gainst Murder lately were enrol'd,
'Gainst Incest, Rapine,----straight upon the Tale
His Colour chang'd, and _Posthumus_ grew pale.
His Impious Courage had no other Root,
But that the Villaine, Atheist was to boot.
_The Fourth_ EPIGRAM.
_On_ GALLA.
Now liquid Streams by the fierce Cold do grow
As solid as the Rocks from whence they flow;
Now _Tibers_ Banks with Ice united meet,
And it's firm Stream may well be term'd its Street;
Now Vot'ries 'fore the Shrines like Statues show,
And scarce the Men from Images we know;
Now Winters Palsey seizes ev'ry Age,
And none's so warm, but feels the Seasons Rage;
Even the bright Lillies and triumphant Red
Which o're _Corinna_'s youthful cheeks are spred,
Look pale and bleak, and shew a purple hew,
And Violets staine, where Roses lately grew.
_Galla_ alone, with wonder we behold,
Maintain her Spring, and still out-brave the Cold;
Her constant white does not to Frost give place,
Nor fresh Vermillion fade upon her face:
Sure Divine beauty in this Dame does shine?
Not Humane, one reply'd, yet not Divine.