Part 22

On this vile theme thee we congratulate, O golden Muse, pleasing and delicate; This fair white vileness, Muse, which by its own Or name or face is now no longer known. For, charm'd by thy poetic sacred strain, It knows not, happily, itself again; But with new face wonders at its new splendour-- For splendid e'en a vile theme thou canst render: Congratulations for vile theme we tender. For had not _he_,[114] with headlong buttocks base, Gone flashing foully on with thunderous pace, From whence would this avenging plant have sprung, This solemn strain with polish'd music rung? And whence had gather'd these brave angers tender? O Muse, the vilest theme can bring thee splendour, For which congratulations now we render. Thy Hippocrene comes with a fair face, Finely unworthy of its father base; Of a foul fountain so serene a daughter: From dunghill, who would dream such crystal water? Thus rise, O Muse, O rise, a milk-white queen, Out of the midst of vileness rise serene. Even as Venus rising from her spray, When she discover'd to the light of day Her golden limbs, the billowy waves surprising With the first glory of her purple rising; So rise, O Muse, thy milk-white grace unfold; Ennius' dunghill will be Virgil's gold! R. WI.

MELIUS PURGATUR STOMACHUS PER

VOMITUM QUAM PER SECESSUM.

Dum vires refero vomitus et nobile munus, Da mini de vomitu, grandis Homere, tuo. Nempe olim, multi cum carminis anxia moles Vexabat stomachum, magne Poeta, tuum; Aegraque jejuno tenuebat pectora morsu, Jussit et in crudam semper hiare famem: Phoebus, ut est medicus, vomitoria pocula praebens, Morbum omnem longos expulit in vomitus. Protinus et centum incumbunt toto ore Poetae, Certantes sacras lambere relliquias. Quod vix fecissent, scio, si medicamen ineptum Venisset misere posteriore via. Quippe per anfractus caecique volumina ventris Sacra, putas, hostem vult medicina sequi? Tam turpes tenebras haec non dignatur, at ipsum Sedibus ex imis imperiosa trahit.

ERGO:

Per vomitum stomachus melius purgabitur, alvus Quam qua secretis exit opaca viis.

NOTE.

While we do not deem it expedient to translate this somewhat coarse _jeu d'esprit_, its sentiment and allusions will be found anticipated in the lines 'To the Reader, upon the Author his Kins-man,' prefixed to 'Follie's Anatomie; or Satyres and Satyricall Epigrams; with a compendious History of Ixion's Wheele. Compiled by Henry Hutton, Dunelmensis.' London, 1619 (pp. 3-4)--which we give here:

Old Homer in his time made a great feast, And every Poet was thereat a guest: All had their welcome, yet not all one fare; To them above the salt (his chiefest care) He spread a banquet of choice Poesie, Whereon they fed even to satietie. The lower end had from that end their cates; For Homer, setting open his dung-gates, Delivered from that dresser excrement, Whereon they glutted, and returned in print. Let no man wonder that I this rehearse; Nought came from Homer but it turned to verse. Now where our Author was, at this good cheere, Where was his place, or whether he were there; Whether he waited, or he tooke away, Of this same point I cannot soothly say. But this I ghesse: being then a dandiprat, Some witty Poet took him on his lap, And fed him, from above, with some choice bit. Hence his acumen, and a ready wit. But prayers from a friendly pen ill thrive, And truth's scarce truth, spoke by a relative. Let envy, therefore, give her vote herein: Envy and th' Author sure are nought akin. He personate bad Envy; yet say so, He lickt at Homer's mouth, not from below. R[ALPH] H[UTTON].

Percy Society edit. (Rimbault), 1842. Both Hutton and Crashaw remind us of the like sportiveness (rough) in Dryden and Byron. G.

CUM HORUM ALIQUA DEDICARAM

PRAECEPTORI MEO COLENDISSIMO, AMICO AMICISSIMO, R. BROOKE.[115]

En tibi Musam, Praeceptor colendissime, quas ex tuis modo scholis, quasi ex Apollinis officina, accepit alas timide adhuc, nec aliter quam sub oculis tuis jactitantem.

Qualiter e nido multa jam floridus ala Astra sibi meditatur avis, pulchrosque meatus Aerios inter proceres, licet aethera nunquam Expertus, rudibusque illi sit in ardua pennis Prima fides, micat ire tamen, quatiensque decora Veste leves humeros, querulumque per aera ludens Nil dubitat vel in astra vagos suspendere nisus, At vero simul immensum per inane profundis Exhaustus spatiis, vacuoque sub aethere pendens, Arva procul sylvasque suas, procul omnia cernit, Cernere quae solitus: tum vero victa cadit mens, Spesque suas, et tanta timens conamina, totus Respicit ad matrem, pronisque revertitur auris.

Quod tibi enim haec feram, vir ornatissime, non ambitio dantis est, sed justitia reddentis; neque te libelli mei tam elegi patronum, quam dominum agnosco. Tua sane sunt haec et mea; neque tamen ita mea sunt, quin si quid in illis boni est, tuum hoc sit totum, neque interim in tantum tua, ut quantumcumque est in illis mali, illud non sit ex integro meum. Ita medio quodam et misto jure utriusque sunt, ne vel mihi, dum me in societatem tuarum laudum elevarem, invidiam facerem; vel injuriam tibi, ut qui te in tenuitatis meae consortium deducere conarer. Ego enim de meo nihil ausim boni mecum agnoscere, nedum profiteri palam, praeter hoc unum, quo tamen nihil melius, animum nempe non ingratum tuorum beneficiorum historiam religiosissima fide in se reponentem. Hoc quibuscumque testibus coram, hoc palam in os coeli meaeque conscientiae meum jacto effero me in hoc ultra aemuli patientiam. Enim vero elegantiore obsequio venerentur te, et venerantur scio, tuorum alii: nemo me sincero magis vel ingenuo poterit. Horum denique rivulorum, tenuium utcunque nulliusque nominis, haec saltem laus erit propria, quod suum nempe norint Oceanum.

TRANSLATION.

WHEN I HAD DEDICATED CERTAIN OF MY POEMS

TO MY MOST ESTIMABLE PRECEPTOR AND MOST FRIENDLY FRIEND, R. BROOKE.

'Well done, Muse!' was thy encouraging word, most estimable Praeceptor; 'Well done, Muse!' fluttering its wings, which it received from thy School of late, as from Apollo's workshop, timidly as yet, nor otherwise than beneath thine eyes.

Like as a nestling, feather'd gaily o'er, Is meditating towards the stars to soar, And in ambitious flights already vies With the wing'd chiefs that skim along the skies: What though he never has essay'd the air, And needs must trust in plumes untried to bear Unwonted burden heavenward? yet he quivers To stretch his wings, and his fair plumage shivers Round his light shoulders till he flits away, While whispering airs against his pinions play; Nor dreams he will suspend his wandering flight Anywhere short of regions starry bright. But when exhausted by the spaces high And the immeasurable void of sky, Hovering in empty air, far off he sees The fields and hedges and familiar trees-- O, how far off!--which used his sight to please; Then sudden overpower'd behold him sink, And from his hopes and lofty soarings shrink: To his dear mother his whole soul looks back, And down he flutters on the homeward track.

That I offer thee these poems, most honourable Sir, is not the ambitious desire to give, but the righteous wish to restore what is due. And I have not chosen thee so much the patron of my little book, as I recognise thee to be its owner. Thine indeed these things are, and mine: nor yet are they so much mine, but that if there is anything good in them, this is wholly thine; nor at the same time are they so far thine, that everything bad in them is not entirely mine. Thus, by a sort of common and joint right, they belong to each of us; lest either I should bring envy to myself, while I presumed to a share of thy praises, or injury to thee, by endeavouring to drag thee down to association with my feebleness. For concerning anything belonging to me, I should not venture even to myself to admit any merit, much less to proclaim it openly, except this one thing, than which there is nothing more excellent--namely, a mind not ungrateful, and cherishing in itself with most punctilious fidelity the record of thy kindnesses.

This in the presence of any witnesses, this openly in the face of heaven and to my own conscience, I boast of as my own. I proclaim myself in this particular incapable of enduring a rival; for others of thy admirers [pupils] may venerate thee, and do venerate thee, with more polite attention, but none will be able to do so with observance more sincere and felt. In conclusion; of these rivulets, however slender they may be and of no name, this at least will be the fitting praise--that at all events they know their own Ocean. R. WI.

IN OBITUM REV. V. D^{ris} MANSELL,

COLL. REGIN. M^{ri} QUI VEN. D^{s} BROOKE [M^{ri} COLL. TRIN.], INTERITUM PROXIME SECUTUS EST.[116]

Ergo iterum in lacrymas et saevi murmura planctus Ire jubet tragica mors iterata manu; Scilicet illa novas quae jam fert dextra sagittas, Dextra priore recens sanguine stillat adhuc. Vos o, quos socia Lachesis prope miscuit urna, Et vicina colus vix sinit esse duos; Ite o, quos nostri jungunt consortia damni; Per nostras lacrymas o nimis ite pares; Ite per Elysias felici tramite valles, Et sociis animos conciliate viis. Illic ingentes ultro confundite manes, Noscat et aeternam mutua dextra fidem. Communes eadem spargantur in otia curae, Atque idem felix poscat utrumque labor. Nectarae simul ite vagis sermonibus horae; Nox trahat alternas continuata vices. Una cibos ferat, una suas vocet arbor in umbras; Ambobus faciles herba det una toros. Certum erit interea quanto sit major habenda Quam quae per vitam est, mortis amicitia.

TRANSLATION.

ON THE DEATH OF REV. DR. MANSELL,

MASTER OF QUEEN'S COLLEGE, WHICH FOLLOWED VERY CLOSELY THE DECEASE OF REV. DR. BROOKE.[117]

In tears once more and sighs of cruel woe Death's tragic stroke repeated bids us go; That fatal hand, which now bears arrows new, Still freshly drips with former crimson dew. Ye whom Fate almost mingl'd in one urn, Whom to be two, close threads forbid discern; Go ye, who equally our sorrows share, By reason of our tears too much a pair; Go where Elysian vales your steps invite, In social paths your happy souls unite; There mix your mighty shades with willing mind, Eternal faith your blended right-hands find. Let common cares be lost in the same joys, While the same happy labour both employs; Through nectar'd hours in talk together range, And night continue the sweet interchange: One tree bear fruit for both, one tree yield shade, On the same turf your pleasant couch be made; Thus how much better will be plainly seen Friendship of Death than that of life, I ween. R. WI.

HONORATISSIMO DR. ROBERTO HEATH,

SUMMO JUSTIT. DE COM. BANCO, GRATULATIO.[118]

Ignitum latus et sacrum tibi gratulor ostrum, O amor atque tuae gloria magna togae: Nam video Themis ecce humeris, Themis ardet in istis, Inque tuos gaudet tota venire sinus. O ibi purpureo quam se bene porrigit astro, Et docet hic radios luxuriare suos. Imo eat aeterna sic o Themis aurea pompa; Hic velit o sidus semper habere suum. Sic flagret, et nunquam tua purpura palleat intus; O nunquam in vultus digna sit ire tuos. Sanguine ab innocuo nullos bibat illa rubores; Nec tam crudeli murice proficiat. Quaeque tibi est (nam quae non est tibi?) candida virtus Fortunam placide ducat in alta tuam. Nullius viduae lacrymas tua marmora sudent; Nec sit, quae inclamet te, tibi facta domus. Non gemat ulla suam pinus tibi scissa ruinam, Ceu cadat in domini murmure maesta sui. Fama suas subter pennas tibi sternat eunti; Illa tubae faciat te melioris opus. Thura tuo, quacunque meat, cum nomine migrent; Quaeque vehit felix te, vehat aura rosas. Vive tuis, nec enim non sunt aequissima, votis Aequalis, quae te sidera cunque vocant. Haec donec niveae cedat tua purpura pallae, Lilium ibi fuerit, quae rosa vestis erat.

TRANSLATION.

TO THE RIGHT HON. LORD ROBERT HEATH,

ON HIS BEING MADE A JUDGE: A CONGRATULATION.[119]

Upon thy sacred purple, barr'd with fire, I gratulate thee--glorious, lov'd attire! For on those shoulders I see Justice shine, And glad to hide within those folds of thine. O finely there she shoots her purple beam, And teaches here her rays brightly to gleam. May Justice thus in pomp eternal go, Here always wish her golden star to glow! Thus blaze, and ne'er thy purple pale its blush, And never need into thy face to flush. From innocent blood ne'er drink a deeper dye, And turn more crimson from such cruelty. Let all fair virtues--for thou ownest all-- Calmly to heaven above thy footsteps call. No widows' tears thy marble halls distil, No house cry out against thee, built by ill; No timber cut for thee its downfall groan, 'Mid its lord's murmurs sadly overthrown. May Fame spread out her wings beneath thy feet, And thee with loud applause her trumpet greet! May incense waft thy name where'er it goes, The happy gale which bears thee bear the rose! Live equal to thy prayers, most just are they, Whatever stars direct thee on thy way, Till this thy purple turn to robe of snow, And where the rose had been, the lily glow! R. WI.

HORATII ODE,

Ille et nefasto te posuit die, &c. Lib. ii. 13.

{hellenisti.}

{Hora se keinos theken apophradi Ho protos hostis cheiri te bomaki Ethrepse, dendron, tes te komes Aition, essomenon t' elenchos. Keinos tokeos thrypse kai auchena, Keinos ge, phaien, haimati xeinio Mychotaton koitona rhaine Nyktios, amphaphaase keinos Ta deta Kolchon pharmaka, kai kakou Pan chrema, dosas moi epichorion Se stygnon ernos, despotou se Empeson es kephalen aeikos. Pases men hores pan epikindynon Tis oide pheugein? deidie Bosphoron Libys ho ploten, oud' anaiker Ten kryphien heterothen oknei. Parthon machemon Rhomaikos phygen, Kai toxa; Parthos Rhomaiken bian, Kai desma; laous alla moiras Balle, balei t' adoketos horme. Schedon schedon pos Persephones idon Aulen melainen, kai krisin Aiakou, Kalen t' apostasin makairon Aioliais kinyren te chordais Sappho patridos memphomenen korais, Echounta kai se pleion epichryso, Alkaie, plektro sklera neos, Sklera phyges, polemou te sklera Euphemeousai d' amphoteron skiai Klyousi thambei, tas de machas pleon, Anastatous te men tyrannous Omias ekpien osi laos. Ti thaum'? ekeinais ther hote trikranos Aken aoidais, ouata kabbale, Erinnyon th' hedypathousi Bostryches, hesychion echidnon. Kai de Prometheus, kai Pelopos pater Heudousin echei to lathikedei; Agein leontas Orion de Ou phileei, phoberas te lynkas.}

Latin Poems.

PART SECOND. SECULAR.

III.

ROYAL AND ACADEMICAL.

NOTE.

In our Preface to the present Volume we give the title-pages of the original publications wherein appeared the Royal and Academical Poems of this section; in the translation of which I owe again thanks to the friends of the former divisions, as their initials show; and another, Professor Sole, of St. Mary's College, Oscott, Birmingham, to whom I am indebted for that bearing his initials. One to the 'Princess,' celebrated before, is here printed as well as translated for the first time, as noted in the place. It was deemed preferable to include it with the others rather than among those hitherto unprinted. For brief notices of the various Royal and Academical celebrities of these poems, see Memorial-Introduction and related English poems in Vol. I. and notes in their places in the present Volume.

Once more I note here the chief errors of Turnbull's text: 'Ad Carolum,' &c. l. 11, 'perrerati' for 'pererrati;' l. 26, 'discere' for 'dicere:' in 'In Serenissimae Reginae' &c. the heading is 'Senerissimae;' l. 14, 'tuos' for 'tuus;' l. 41, 'Namque' for 'Nam quae;' l. 43, 'Junus' for 'Janus:' in 'Principi recens' &c. l. 4, 'eum' for 'cum;' l. 10, 'lato' for 'late;' l. 22, 'imperiosus' for 'imperiosior;' l. 26, 'quoque' for 'quoquo;' l. 30, 'melle' for 'molle:' in 'Ad Reginam,' l. 35, 'aure' for 'auree:' in 'Votiva Domus' &c. l. 20, 'tenerae' for 'tremulae;' l. 25, 'jam' for 'bene;' l. 26, 'mulcent' for 'mulceat;' l. 29, 'minium' for 'nimium;' l. 40, 'ora' for 'ara;' l. 45, 'volvit' for 'volvat;' l. 50, 'motus ad oras' for 'nidus ad aras:' in 'Ejusdem caeterorum' &c. l. 5, 'natalis' for 'natales;' l. 15, 'qua' for 'quo;' l. 31, 'longe' for 'longo:' in 'Venerabili viro magistro Tournay' &c. l. 8, 'vixerit' for 'vexerit;' l. 21, 'tuos est' for 'tuas eat;' ll. 24, 27, and 28, 'est' for 'eat:' in 'Or. viro praeceptori' &c. l. 6, 'metuendas' for 'metuendus;' l. 20, 'est' for 'eat.' G.

AD CAROLUM PRIMUM:

REX REDUX.[120]

Ille redit, redit. Hoc populi bona murmura volvunt; Publicus hoc, audin'? plausus ad astra refert: Hoc omni sedet in vultu commune serenum; Omnibus hinc una est laetitiae facies. Rex noster, lux nostra redit; redeuntis ad ora Arridet totis Anglia laeta genis: Quisque suos oculos oculis accendit ab istis; Atque novum sacro sumit ab ore diem. Forte roges tanto quae digna pericula plausu Evadat Carolus, quae mala quosve metus: Anne pererrati male fida volumina ponti Ausa illum terris pene negare suis: Hospitis an nimii rursus sibi conscia tellus Vix bene speratum reddat Ibera caput. Nil horum; nec enim male fida volumina ponti Aut sacrum tellus vidit Ibera caput. Verus amor tamen haec sibi falsa pericula fingit-- Falsa peric'la solet fingere verus amor; At Carolo qui falsa timet, nec vera timeret-- Vera peric'la solet temnere verus amor; Illi falsa timens, sibi vera pericula temnens, Non solum est fidus, sed quoque fortis amor. Interea nostri satis ille est causa triumphi: Et satis, ah, nostri causa doloris erat. Causa doloris erat Carolus, sospes licet esset; Anglia quod saltem dicere posset, abest. Et satis est nostri Carolus nunc causa triumphi: Dicere quod saltem possumus: Ille redit.

TRANSLATION.

THE RETURN OF THE KING.

'The King returns!' the people cry; And shouts of greeting scale the sky. The news sits in each look serene; In each a common joy is seen. Our King! our light! she laughs once more, Glad Anglia, as he gains her shore. Each at the King's eyes lights his eyes; Sees new day with his face arise. You'll ask, what fears beset his way, What ills, what dangers,--we're so gay: If 'gainst his bark, that sail'd for home, The faithless billows dar'd to foam; Or if, so seldom blest, you plann'd To keep him still, Iberian land. Nor waves have wrong'd his saintly head, Nor green Iberia felt his tread. Yet think such fancies true love will-- True love, that feigns false perils still: Us such fears vex, whose hearts are stout-- True perils still true love will scout: Thus fear false perils, scorn the true, Will trusty love and brave in you. O fitly we kept cloudy brow, Because of him, as laughter now. When we could say, 'Our King's not here,' We griev'd for him, no danger near: Now our hearts can no least joy lack, When we say, laughing, 'He's come back.' A.

AD PRINCIPEM NONDUM NATUM,

REGINA GRAVIDA.[121]

Nascere nunc, o nunc; quid enim, puer alme, moraris? Nulla tibi dederit dulcior hora diem. Ergone tot tardos, o lente, morabere menses? Rex redit; ipse veni, et dic, bone, gratus ades. Nam quid ave nostrum? quid nostri verba triumphi? Vagitu melius dixeris ista tuo. At maneas tamen, et nobis nova causa triumphi: Sic demum fueris; nec nova causa tamen: Nam quoties Carolo novus aut nova nascitur infans, Revera toties Carolus ipse redit.

TRANSLATION.

TO THE ROYAL INFANT NOT YET BORN,

THE QUEEN BEING WITH CHILD.

Be born, O, now; for why, fair child, delay? No sweeter hour will bring to thee the day. So many months wilt linger on the wing? The King returns; come thou, and welcome bring. What is our hail? our voice of triumph high? Thou wilt have said these better with thy cry. But stay; and soon new cause of triumph be; And yet in thee no new cause shall we see: Oft as to Charles is born new girl, new boy, Sure Charles himself returns, and brings us joy. R. WI.

IN FACIEM AUGUSTISSIMI REGIS

A MORBILLIS INTEGRAM.[122]

Musa redi, vocat alma parens Aeademia: noster En redit, ore suo noster Apollo redit; Vultus adhuc suus, et vultu sua purpura tantum Vivit, et admixtas pergit amare nives. Tune illas violare genas? tune illa profanis, Morbe ferox, tentas ire per ora notis? Tu Phoebi faciem tentas, vanissime? Nostra Nec Phoebe maculas novit habere suas. Ipsa sui vindex facies morbum indignatur; Ipsa sedet radiis o bene tuta suis: Quippe illic Deus est. coelumque et sanctius astrum: Quippe sub his totus ridet Apollo genis. Quod facie Rex tutus erat, quod caetera tactus: Hinc hominem Rex est fassus, et inde Deum.

TRANSLATION.

TO THE FACE OF THE MOST AUGUST KING.

UNINJURED BY SMALL-POX.

Come, Muse, at call of thy Academy: With his own face our Phoebus here we see; His face his own yet, with its own red dyed, Which with its whiteness loves to be allied. O fierce disease, dost thou, with marks profane, Attempt these cheeks, that countenance, to stain? Most futile! Dost attempt our Phoebus' face? Not in our Phoebe her own spots canst trace. His self-asserting face disdains disease; 'Mid its own rays it sits, O well at ease. Sure God and heaven and holiest star are here; Sure 'neath these cheeks smiles Phoebus full and clear. Our King being safe in face, but touch'd elsewhere, Proves he was here a god, though a man there. R. WI.

IN SERENISSIMAE REGINAE

PARTUM HIEMALEM.[123]