Imágenes de páginas

", Præclarus ortu Shenkin

E Stirpe Theodori;
Sed cessit a Me Splendor Famæ

Venereo Furori.
Splendentis Winifridæ

Ocelli perculere;
Cor (heu!) crudeli ictu teli

Desperat Ars mederi.
Tam clarus erat nemo

Seu Pili, seu Bacilli;
Cursu pedestri, aut equestri,

Haud quisquam compar illi.
Sed gaudia fugerunt,

Emaciantur Genæ ;
Cor (heu!) sic dolet, non, ut solet,
Jam cepe olet benè.

Non posthac deglutienda

Promulsis de Montgomery;
Si desit quies plus sex dies,

Æternum valeat Flummery.”

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Hymn by the late Duchess of Devonshire. Æt. 13.

" When I behold with wond'ring eyes

The daily blessings God bestows,
A thousand thankful thoughts arise ;

My heart with grateful joy o'erflows.
Each flower, each shrub, conspires to sing

The praises of the God on high;
The praises of the eternal King,

Who gave each shrub, each flow'r, its dye.
Who gave the sun its balmy heat?

Who bids the thunder loudly roll?
Who made the universe complete,

And form’d the earth from pole to pole?
With me in Hellelujahs join

To sing our holy Maker's praise;
In choral hymn, or song divine,

In prayer and thanks our voices raise.”


No. XLIV. On the Latin Poems of Cowley.

" Quod dedisti

Viventi decus, atque sentienti,
Rari post cineres habent poetæ."


The Latin poems of Cowley, * which are not printed among the common editions of his works, are not so well known as they ought to be. Dr. Johnson and T. Wartont differ in the degree of their merit; but it must be admitted that they discover great skill in the Latin language, as well as great genius.

I think some of my readers will not be displeased at having two or three of them again brought into notice. I embrace the opportunity more willingly, because I have heard it objected, I think, with too narrow views, that my ruminations are not sufficiently confined to subjects of literature. Limits I have always imposed on myself, which have restrained me from discussing many topics of life and manners, that would both have been pleasing to myself, and have given a greater diversity to my pages. But there are those who would confine me within bounds, to which I cannot submit to be chained.

* First printed 1668, 8vo. in which are included Plantarum Libri Duo, which had been printed Lond. 1662, 8vo. The title of the second edition runs thus : Abrahami Couleü Angli, Poemata Latina : in quibus continentur Sex Libri Plantarum, viz. Duo Herbarum, Florum, Sylvarum; et unus Miscellaneorum.

Habeo quod carmine sanet & herbis.

Dvid Metam. 10.

Huic editioni secundæ accessit Index Rerum antehac desideratus. Londini typis M. Clarke, Impensis Jo. Martyn, ad Insigne Campana in Cæmeterio D. Pauli 1678. 8vo.

+ See Johnson's Lives of the Poets, and Warton's Preface to Milton's Juvenile Poems.

Cowley is never more eloquent than when he descants on the pleasures of Solitude, whether in Latin or English.

66 Solitudo.

“ Rura laudamus merito poetæ,
Rure floremus ; dominoque laurum
Sole gaudentem necat oppidorum

Nubilus aër.

Nam prius crescet seges in plateis,
Et coronabunt fora densa flores
Sponte nascentes, prius ipsa civis

Fiet et herba ;

Urbe quam surgat media bonorum
Carminum messis; bona semper urbem
Carmina oderunt, neque nutrit omnis

Omnia tellus.

Rure, Persarum veluti tyrannus,
Abditus longo maneam recessu,
Sæpe legatum satis est ad urbem

Mittere carmen.

Arbores salvete, bonæque sylvæ,
Civitas fælix avium innocentum !
Regna Musarum ! sacra rusticantum

Villa Deorum!

Hic jacens vestris temere sub umbris, Audiam supra Zephyros volantes, Cumque fæcundis bene disputantes

Frondibus auras.*

O sacrum risum juvenilis anni!
Cum Calor totos penetrans per artus
Fertilem pubem, Veneremque adulti

Suscitat orbis.

Hic mihi æstivo domus apta sole, Pulchra naturæ domus architectæ! Quis trabem excisam prius æstimabit

Arbore viva ? +

Audiam hic proni per aprica collis Luce turgentes liquidisque gemmis, Dulce ridentes properare rivos,

Dulce loquentes. I

* This is a translation of some beautiful lines in his Fnglish poem on Solitude.

“ Here let me, careless and unthoughtful lying,
Hear the soft winds above me flying,
With all their wanton boughs dispute."

+ " Here Nature does a house for me erect,

Nature, the wisest architect,

Who those fond artists does despise,
That can the fair and living trees neglect;
Yet the dead timber prize.”


I“ A silver stream shall roll his waters near,

Gilt with the sunbeams here and there;

On whose enamel'd bank I'll walk,
And see how prettily they smile, and hear

How prettily they talk.” Ibid.

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