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Esse qui secum nequit occupatus,
Aut laborabit miser ille vitæ
Tædio, aut caras male collocabit

Prodigus horas. *
Tu Deum longis comitata sæclis
Sola tu rerum, sacra Solitudo,
Antequam trunco numerorum abiret

Arbor ab uno !t.
Impetus mentis nimium evagantes
Instar aurigæ cohibes periti,
Et jubes pulcbrum breviore gyro

Claudere cursum I.
Languidos mentis fluidæ calores,
Et nimis multum spacii occupantes
Rite constringensque fovensque pulchros

Elicis ignes. §

** Ah wretched and too solitary he,

Who loves not his own company!
He'll feel the weight of’t many a day,
Unless he call in sin or vanity
To help to bear't away."

Ibid.
+ Tho'God himself, thro' countless ages, thee

His sole companion chose to be,

Thee, sacred solitude, alone,
Before the branchy head of numbers three

Sprang from the trunk of one." Ibid. * “ Thou, tho' men think thine an unactive part,

Dost break and tame th' unruly heart,

Which else would know no settled place, Making it move well-manag'd by thy art, With swiftness and with grace."

Ibid.
Thou the faint beams of reason's scatter'd light
Dost like a burning glass unite,

Dost multiply the feeble heat,
And fortify the strength, till thou dost bright,
And noble fires beget."

Ibid.

Quid mihi æterno populum, fluentem
Fonte, Londinum, numerosque jactas?
Quid mihi ingentes nihil invidenti

Objicis arces ?

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The following ode is, with one or two transpositions, a literal version of the poet's beautiful English lines in the Essays on the Shortness of Life and Uncertainty of Riches,” beginning Why dost thou heap up wealth which thou must quit?"

66 Ode.

“Quid relinquendos, moriture, nummos,
Sarcinas vitæ, fugiture, quæris?
Si relinquendos; dominum relinquunt

Sæpe priores.

Quid struis pulchros thalamos in altum
Membra sub terrà positurus ima?
Conserens hortos, sed in omne tempus

Ipse serendus?

" Whilst this hard truth I teach, methinks, I see The monster London laugh at me;

I should at thee too, foolish city,
If it were fit to laugh at misery;

But thy estate I pity!
Let but the wicked men from out thee go,

And all the fools that crowd thee so,

Ee’n thou, who dost thy millions boast,
A village less than Islington wilt grow,
A solitude almost."

Ibid.

Nam tuas te res agitare credis ?
Esse te frugalem ? aliis laboras
Servus infælix, aliena curas

Ardelio ingens.
Longa momento meditantur uno,
Dum senes rebus venientis ævi
Lineæ puncto brevis in supremo

Acrius instant.

Jure formicæ cumulant acervos Providæ, et brumæ memores futuræ, Sed male æstivas eadem deceret

Cura cicadas.

Gloriæ mendax nitor atque honorum
Posset excusare suos amantes,
Si diem vitæ valuisset, uti sol,

Pingere totum.
At brevem post se sonitum relinquens
Fulguris ritu, simul ac videtur
Transit, illustri loca multa inaurans

Non sine damno. O rudis pulchræ prope contuenti Scena fortunæ! Mala fastuosa Ore larvato! Lachrymæque pictæ

Iridis instar!

Magna contemnens, miseranosque magnos,
Invidens nullo, minimo invidendus,
Vive, Coulei ; lege tuta parva

Littora cymba.
Hospitem cælorum, imitare alaudam,
Sis licet nubes super ire cantu
Doctus, in terris humilem memento

1. Ponere nidum."

ART. DCCXLIV.

No. XLV. The same subject continued,

A nostris procul est omnis vesica libellis,

Musa nec insano syrmate nostra tumet.”

MART.

Having in my last paper given Cowley's Latin versions of his odes on Solitude and Riches, I now proceed to insert his version of his beautiful Hymn to Light, whence Warton has extracted stanzas, which furnish him with instances of our poet's inferiority to Milton in classical purity. But perhaps the ingenious critic's zeal for Milton has made him a little too severe on his rival. - If he has made a bold and perhaps rash endeavour to clothe his metaphysical conceits in the Latin language, and has sometimes failed accordingly, he has surely sometimes succeeded beyond all hope; there are passages, in which his happiness appears to me really astonishing; and though Johnson went a little too far on the occasion, there is certainly great acuteness in his remarks; and there is, I think, more originality in the Latin poems of Cowley than of Milton. There are many passages in the following ode which affect me with exquisite pleasure.

Hymnus, in Lucem.

“ Pulcbra de vigrå sobole parente,
Quam Chaos fertur peperisse primam,
Cujus ob formam bene risit olim

Massa Severa!

Risus O terræ sacer et polorum!
Aureus vere pluvius tonantis ! .
Quæque de cælo fuis inquieto

Gloria rivo!
O salus rerum, et decus omne, salve ;
Vita naturæ vigil actuosæ !
Omnium mater bona cum calore

Juncta marito !
Unde, momento, quibus e pharetris
Tela per totum jacularis orbem ?
Præpotens, divesque Deique verbum

Fassa paternum!
Carceres ipsos simul, atque metam
Linquis, attingisque, animi sagittis
Ocyor strictes, rapidâ angelorum

Ocyor alâ.
Aureo lunæ bene læta curru
Auream astrorum peragrare sylvam, et
Vere nocturno reparata semper.

Visere prata,
Regiam gaudens habitare solis
More in æternam Sythico vagantem, et
Divitem mundi redeunte gyro

Ducere pompam;
Inter et tantos humilis triumphos
Vermium dignata animare caudas,
Pauperes dignata hilarare parva

Lampede vepres. Discolorato glomerans racemo Turba pictorum vaga somniorum Avolat; mixtas sine more formas

Trudit et urget.

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