THE WORKS OF Mr. JOHN OLDHAM Together with his REMAINS LONDON Printed for Jo. Hindmarsh Bookseller to his Royal Highness at the Black Bull in Cornhil 1684 CONTENTS Book I. PRologue to the Satyr upon the Jesuits Page 1 The first Satyr Garnet's Ghost addressing to the Jesuits met in private Cabal after the Murder of Godfrey 5 The Second Satyr 24 The Third Satyr Loyola's Will 39 The Fourth Satyr S. Ignatius's Image brought in discovering the Rogueries of the Jesuits and ridiculous Superstition of the Church of Rome 74 The Satyr against Vertue Pindarique Ode 93 An Apology for the foregoing Ode by way of Epilog 111 The Passion of Byblis out of Ovid's Metamorphosis imitated in English 119 Upon a Woman who by her Falshood and Scorn was the Death of his Friend A Satyr 139 Book II. Horace his Art of Poetry imitated in English 1 An Imitation of Horace Book I. Satyr 9. 43 Paraphrase upon Horace Boook I. Ode 13. 54 Paraphrase upon Horace Book II. Ode 14. 58 The Praise of Homer Pindarique Ode 62 The Lamentation for Adonis imitated out of the Greek of Bion of Smyrna Pastoral Bion A Pastoral in imitation of the Greek of Moschus bewailing the Death of the Earl of Rochester 73 Paraphrase upon the 137 Psalm Pindarique Ode 99 Paraphrase upon the Hymn of S. Amb. Pindariq Ode 107 A Letter out of the Country to a Friend in Town giving an account of the Author's inclination to Poetry 118 Upon a Printer that expos'd him by printing a Piece of his grosly mangled and faulty A Satyr 131 Book III. Monsieur Boileau's Satyr upon Man imitated 1 Juvenal's thirteenth Satyr imitated 25 David's Lamentation for the Death of Saul and Jonathan paraphras'd Ode 49 The Ode of Aristotle in Athenaeus paraphrased 66 Upon the Works of Ben. Johnson Ode 69 The Ninth Ode of the third Book of Horace imitated 87 Upon a Lady who by overturning of a Coach had her Coats behind flung up and what was under shewn to the view of the Company 90 Catullus Epigram 7. imitated 97 The fourth Elegy of the second Book of Ovid's Amours imitated 99 The Fifth Elegy of the same Book imitated 104 The Tenth Elegy of the same Book imitated 110 A Fragment of Petronius paraphrased 114 An Ode of Anacreon paraphrased 116 An Allusion to Martial Book I. Epigr. 118. 120 The Dream an Elegy 122 A Satyr touching Nobility Out of French 127 A Satyr addressed to a Friend that is about to leave the University and come abroad in the World 137 Presenting a Book to Cosmelia Elegy 149 The Parting Elegy 153 Complaining of Absence Elegy 156 Promising a Visit. Elegy 158 The careless Good Fellow Song 160 A Satyr concerning Poetry 164 The Third Satyr of Juvenal imitated 180 A Dithyrambick The Drunkards Speech in a Mask 260 REMAINS Counterpart to the Satvr against Vertue 1 Virg. Eclogue VIII The Enchantment 13 To Madam L. E. upon her Recovery from a fit of Sickness 22 On the Death of Mrs. Katharine Kingscourt a Child of excellent Parts and Piety 31 A Sunday-Thought in Sickness 34 To the Memory of Mr. Charles Morwent 49 To the Memory of that worthy Gentleman M. Harman Atwood 95 SATYRS UPON THE JESUITS Written in the YEAR 1679. And some other PIECES By the same HAND The Third Edition Corrected LONDON Printed for Joseph Hindmarsh at the Black Bull in Cornhill 1685. Advertisement THE Author might here according to the laudible custom of Prefaces entertain the Reader with a Discourse of the Original Progress and Rules of Satyr and let him understand that he has lately Read Casaubon and several other Criticks upon the Point but at present he is minded to wave it as a vanity he is in no wise fond of His only intent now is to give a brief account of what he Publishes in order to prevent what Censures he foresees may coulourably be past thereupon And that is as followeth What he calls the Prologue is in imitation of Persius who has prefix'd somewhat by that Name before his Book of Satyrs and may serve for a pretty good Authority The first Satyr he drew by Sylla's Ghost in the great Johnson which may be perceived by some strokes and touches therein however short they come of the Original In the second he only followed the swinge of his own 〈◊〉 The Design and some Passages of the Franciscan of Buchanan Which ingenious confession he thinks fit to make to shew he has more modesty than the common Padders in Wit of these times He doubts there may be some few mistakes in Chronology therein which for want of Books he could â—…ot inform himself in If the skilful Reader meet with any such he may the more easily pardon them upon that score Whence he had the hint of the fourth is obvious to all that are any thing acquainted with Horace And without the Authority of so great a President the making of an Image speak is but an ordinary Miracle in Poetry He expects that some will tax him of Buffoonery and turning holy things into ridicule But leâ—… them Read how severely Arnobius Lactantius Minutius Felix and the gravest Fathers have railly'd the fopperies and superstitions of the Heathen and then consider whether those which he has chosen for his Argument are not as worthy of laughter The only difference is that they did it in Prose as he does in Verse where perhaps 't is the more allowable As for the next Poem which is the most liable to censure tho the world has given it the Name of the Satyr against Vertue he declares 't was never design'd to that intent how apt soever some may be to wrest it And this appears by what is said after it and is discernable enough to all that have the sense to understand it 'T was meant to abuse those who valued themselves upon their Wit and Parts in praising Vice and to shew that others of sober Principles if they would take the same liberty in Poetry could strain as high rants in Profaneness as they At first he intended it not for the publick nor to pass beyond the privacy of two or three Friends but seeing it had the Fate to steal abroad in Manuscript and afterwards in Print without his knowledg he now thinks it a Justice due to his own Reputation to have it come forth without those faults which it has suffered from Transcribers and the Press hitherto and which make it a worse Satyr upon himself than upon what it was design'd Something should be said too of the last Trifle if it were worth it 'T was occasioned upon reading the late Translations of Ovid 's Epistles which gave him a mind to try what he could do upon a like Subject Those being already forestall'd he thought fit to make choice of the same Poet whereon perhaps he has taken too much liberty Had he seen Mr. Sandys his Translation before he began he never durst have ventured Since he has and finds reason enough to despair
snuffing pay May you each other Curse thy self undone And he the laughing-stock of all the Town May'st thou ne're rise to History but what Poor Grubstreet Peny Chroniclers relate Memoirs of Tyburn and the mournful State Of Cut-purses in Holborn Cavalcade Till thou thy self be the same subject made Compell'd by want may'st thou Print Popery For which be the Carts Arse and Pillory Turnips and rotten Eggs thy destiny Maul'd worse than Reading Christian or Cellier Till thou daub'd o're with loathsom filth appear Like Brat of some vile Drab in Privy found Which there has lain three months in Ordure drown'd The Plague of Poets Rags and Poverty Debts Writs Arrests and Serjeants light on thee For others bound may'st thou to Durance go Condemn'd to Scraps and begging with a Shoo And may'st thou never from the Jail get free Till thou swear out thy self by Perjury Forlorn abandon'd pitiless and poor As a pawn'd Cully or a mortgag'd Whore May'st thou an Halter want for thy Redress Forc'd to steal Hemp to end thy miseries And damn thy self to balk the Hangmans Fees And may no faucy Fool have better Fate That dares pull down the Vengeance of my Hate FINIS POEMS AND Translations By the AUTHOR of The Satyrs upon the Jesuits LONDON Printed for Jos. Hindmarsh Bookseller to his Royal Highness at the Black Bull in Cornhill 1684. Advertisement THE Author of the following Pieces must be excused for their being hudled out so confusedly They are Printed just as he finished them off and some things there are which he designed not ever to expose but was fain to do it to keep the Press at work when it was once set a going If it be their Fate to perish and go the way of all mortal Rhimes 't is no great matter in what method they have been placed no more than whether Ode Elegy or Satyr have the honour of Wiping first But if they and what he has formerly made Publick be so happy as to live and come forth in an Edition all together perhaps he may then think them worth the sorting in better Order By that time belike he means to have ready a very Sparkish Dedication if he can but get himself known to some Great Man that will give a good parcel of Guinnies for being handsomly flatter'd Then likewise the Reader for his farther comfort may expect to see him appear with all the Pomp and Trappings of an Author his Head in the Front very finely cut together with the Year of his Age Commendatory Verses in abundance and all the Hands of the Poets of the Quorum to confirm his Book and pass it for Authentick This at present is content to come abroad naked Undedicated and unprefaced without one kind Word to shelter it from Censure and so let the Criticks take it amongst them THE TABLE MOnfieur Boileau's Satyr upon Man imitated Page 1 Juvenal's thirteenth Satyr imitated 25 David's Lamentation for the Death of Saul and Jonathan paraphras'd Ode 49 The Ode of Aristotle in Athenaeus paraphrased 66 Upon the Works of Ben. Johnson Ode 69 The ninth Ode of the third Book of Horace imitated 87 Upon a Lady who by overturning of a Coach had her Coats behind flung up and what was under shewn to the view of the Company 90 Catullus Epigram 7. imitated 97 The fourth Elegy of the second Book of Ovid's Amours imitated 99 The fifth Elegy of the same Book imitated 104 The tenth Elegy of the same Book imitated 110 A Fragment of Petronius paraphrased 114 An Ode of Anacreon paraphrased 116 An Allusion to Martial Book 1. Epigr. 118. 120 The Dream an Elegy 122 A Satyr touching Nobility Out of French 127 A Satyr addressed to a Friend that is about to leave the University and come abroad in the world 137 Presenting a Book to Cosmelia Elegy 149 The Parting Elegy 153 Complaining of Absence Elegy 156 Promising a Visit. Elegy 158 The careless Good Fellow Song 160 A Satyr concerning Poetry 164 The third Satyr of Juvenal imitated 180 A Dithyrambick The Drunkards Speech in a Mask 206 THE EIGHTH SATYR OF Monsieur BOILEAU Imitated Written in October 1682. The POET brings himself in as discoursing with a Doctor of the University upon the Subject ensuing OF all the Creatures in the world that be Beast Fish or Fowl that go or swim or fly Throughout the Globe from London to Japan The arrant'st Fool in my opinion's Man What strait I 'm taken up an Ant a Fly A tiny Mite which we can hardly see Without a Perspective a silly Ass Or freakish Ape Dare you affirm that these Have greater sense than Man Ay questionless Doctor I find you 're shock'd at this discourse Man is you cry Lord of the Universe For him was this fair frame of Nature made And all the Creatures for his use and aid To him alone of all the living kind Has bounteous Heav'n the reas'ning gift assign'd True Sir that Reason ever was his lot But thence I argue Man the greater Sot This idle talk say you and rambling stuff May pass in Satyr and take well enough With Sceptick Fools who are dispos'd to jeer At serious things but you must make 't appear By solid proof Believe me Sir I 'll do 't Take you the Desk and let 's dispute it out Then by your favour tell me first of all What 't is which you grave Doctors Wisdom call You answer 'T is an evenness of Soul A steddy temper which no cares controul No passions ruâ—…le nor desires inflame Still constant to its self and still the same That does in all its slow Resolves advance With graver steps than Benchers when they dance Most true yet is not this I dare maintain Less us'd by any than the Fool call'd Man The wiser Emmet quoted just before In Summer time ranges the Fallows o're With pains and labour to lay in his store But when the blust'ring North with ruffling blasts Saddens the year and Nature overcasts The prudent Insect hid in privacy Enjoys the fruits of his past industry No Ant of sense was e're so awkard seen To drudg in Winter loiter in the Spring But sillier man in his mistaken way By Reason his false guide is led astray Tost by a thousand gusts of wavering doubt His restless mind still rolls from thought to thought In each resolve unsteady and unfixt And when he one day loaths desires the next Shall I so fam'd for many a tuant jest On wiving now go take a jilt at last Shall I turn Husband and my station choose Amongst the reverend Martyrs of the Noose No there are fools enough besides in Town To surnish work for Satyr and Lampoon Few months before cried the unthinking Sot Who quickly after hamper'd in the knot Was quoted for an instance by the rest And bore his Fate as tamely as the best And thought that Heav'n from some miraculous side For him alone had drawn a faithful Bride This is our image just such is that vain That
and Giant both my wishes fit Undress'd I think how killing she 'd appear If arm'd with all Advantages she were Richly attir'd she 's the gay Bait of Love And knows with Art to set her Beauties off I like the Fair I like the Red hair'd one And I can find attractions in the Brown If curling Jet adorn her snowy Neck The beauteous Leda is reported Black If curling Gold Aurora's painted so All sorts of Histories my Love does know I like the Young with all her blooming Charms And Age it self is welcome to my Arms There uncropt Beauty in its flow'r assails Experience here and riper sense prevails In fine whatever of the Sex are known To stock this spacious and well furnish'd Town Whatever any single man can find Agreeable of all the num'rous kind At all alike my haggard Love does fly And each is Game and each a Miss for me BOOK II. ELEGY V. To his Mistris that jilted him Nullus amor tanti est abeas pharetrate Cupido c. NAY then the Devil take all Love if I So oft for its damn'd sake must wish to die What can I wish for but to die when you Dear faithless Thing I find could prove untrue Why am I curs'd with Life why am I fain For thee false Jilt to bear eternal Pain 'T is not thy Letters which thy Crimes reveal Nor secret Presents which thy Falshood tell Would God! my just suspicions wanted cause That they might prove less fatal to my ease Would God! less colour for thy guilt there were But that alas too much of proof does bear Bless'd he who what he loves can justifie To whom his Mistris can the Fact deny And boldly give his Jealousie the lye Cruel the Man and uncompassionate And too indulgent to his own Regret Who seeks to have her guilt too manifest And with the murd'ring secret stabs his Rest. I saw when little you suspected me When sleep you thought gave opportunity Your Crimes I saw and these unhappy eyes Of all your hidden stealths were Witnesses I saw in signs your mutual Wishes read And Nods the message of your Hearts convey'd I saw the conscious Board which writ all o're With scrawls of Wine Love's mystick Cypher bore Your Glances were not mute but each bewray'd And with your Fingers Dialogues were made I understood the Language out of hand For what 's too hard for Love to understand Full well I understood for what intent All this dumb Talk and silent Hints were meant And now the Ghests were from the Table fled And all the Company retir'd to bed I saw you then with wanton Kisses greet Your Tongues I saw did in your Kisses meet Not such as Sisters to their Brothers give But Lovers from their Mistrisses receive Such as the God of War and Paphian Queen Did in the height of their Embraces joyn Patience ye Gods I cried what is 't I see Unfaithful why this Treachery to me How dare you let another in my sight Invade my native Property and Right He must not shall not do 't by Love I swear I 'll seize the bold usurping Ravisher Tâ—… are my Free hold and the Fates design That you should be unalienably mine These Favours all to me impropriate are How comes another then to trespass here This and much more I said by Rage inspir'd While conscious shame her Cheeks with Blushes fir'd Such lovely stains the face of Heav'n adorn When Light 's first blushes paint the bashful Morn So on the Bush the flaming Rose does glow When mingled with the Lillies neighb'ring Snow This or some other Colour much like these The semblance then of here Complexion was And while her Looks that sweet Disorder wore Chance added Beauties undisclos'd before Upon the ground she cast her jetty Eyes Her Eyes shot fiercer Darts in that Disgulse Her Face a sad and mournful Air express'd Her Face more lovely seem'd in sadness dress'd Urg'd by Revenge I hardly could forbear Her braided Locks and tender Cheeks to tear Yet I no sooner had her Face survey'd But strait the tempest of my Rage was laid A look of her did my Resentments charm A look of her did all their Force disarm And I that fierce outrageous thing e're-while Grow calm as Infants when in sleep they smile And now a Kiss am humbly fain to crave She smil'd and strait a throng of Kisses prest The worst of which should Jove himself but taste The brandish'd Thunder from his Hand would wrest Well-pleas'd I was and yet tormented too For fear my envied Rival felt them so Better they seem'd by far than I ere taught And she in them shew'd something new methought Fond jealous I my self the Pleasure grutch And they displeas'd because they pleas'd too much When in my mouth I felt her darting Tongue My wounded Thoughts it with suspicion stung Nor is it this alone afflicts my mind More reason for complaint remains behind I grieve not only that she Kisses gave Tho that affords me cause enough to grieve Such never could be taught her but in Bed And Heav'n knows what Reward her Teacher had BOOK II. ELEGY X. To a Friend Acquainting him that he is in Love with two at one time Tu mihi tu certè memini Graecine negabas c. I 'VE heard my Friend and heard it said by you No man at once could ever well love two But I was much deceiv'd upon that score For single I at once love one and more Two at one time reign joyntly in my Breast Both handsom are both charming both well-dress'd And hang me if I know which takes me best This Fairer is thao that and that than this That more than this and this than that does please Tost like a Ship by diffrent gusts of Love Now to this Point and now to that I move Why Love why dost thou double thus my pains Was 't not enough to bear one Tyrant's chains Why Goddess do'st thou vainly lavish more On one that was top-full of Love before Yet thus I 'd rather love than not at all May that ill Curse my Enemies befal May my worst Foe be damn'd to love of none Be damn'd to Continence and lie alone Let Loves alarms each night disturb my Rest And drowsie sleep never approach my Breast Or strait-way thence be by new Pleasure chas'd Let Pleasure in succession keep my Sense Ever awake or ever in a Trance Let me lie melting in my fair One's Arms Riot in Bliss and surfeit on her Charms Let her undo me there without controul Drain nature quite suck out my very Soul And if by one I can't enough be drawn Give me another clap more Leeches on The Gods have made me of the sporting kind And for the Feat my Pliant Limbs design'd What Nature has in Bulk to me denied In Sinews and in vigour is supplied And should my Strength be wanting to Desire Pleasure would add new Fewel to the Fire Oft in soft Battels have I spent the Night Yet rose
That knew the Fellow's humour passing well Glad of the sight I joyn him we stand still Whence came you Sir and whither go you now And such like questions pass'd betwixt us two Strait I begin to pull him by the sleeve Nod wink upon him touch my Nose and give A thousand hints to let him know that I Needed his help for my delivery He naughty Wag with an Arch fleering smile Seems ignorant of what I mean the while I grow stark wild with rage Sir said not you You 'd somewhat to discourse not long ago With me in private I remember 't well Some other time be sure I will not fail Now I am in great haste upon my word A Messenger came for me from a Lord That 's in a bad condition like to die Oh! Sir he can't be in a worse than I Therefore for God's sake do not stir from hence Sweet Sir your pardon 't is of consequence I hope you 're kinder than to pross my stay Which may be Heav'n knows what out of my way This said he left me to my murderer Seeing no hopes of my relief appear Confounded be the Stars said I that sway'd This fatal day would I had kept my Bed With sickness rather than been visited With this worse Pâ—…gue what ill have I e're done To pull this eurâ—…e this heavy Judgment down While I was thus lamenting my ill hap Comos aid at length a brace of Bailiffs clap The Rascal on the back Here take your Fees Kind Gentlemen said I for my release He would have had me Bail Excuse me Sir I've made a Vow ne're to be Surety more My Father was undone by 't hereâ—…ofore Thus I got off and bless'd the Fates that he Was Pris'ner made I set at liberty Paraphrase upon HORACE BOOK I. ODE XXXI Quid dedicatum poscit Apollinem Vates c. 1. WHat does the Poet 's modest Wish require What Boon does he of gracious Heav'n desire Not the large Corps of Esham's goodly Soil Which tire the Mower's and the Reaper's toil Not the soft Flocks on hilly Cotswold fed Nor Lemster Fields with living Fleeces clad He does not ask the Grounds where gentle Thames Or Severn spread their fat'ning Streams Where they with wanton windings play And eat their widen'd Banks insensibly away He does not ask the Wealth of Lombard-street Which Consciences and Souls are pawn'd to get Nor those exhaustless Mines of Gold Which Guinny and Peru in their rich bosoms hold 2. Let those that live in the Canary Isles On which indulgent Nature ever smiles Take pleasure in their plenteous Vintages And from the juicy Grape its racy Liquor press Let wealthy Merchants when they Dine Run o're their costly names of Wine Their Chests of Florence and their Mont-Alchine Their Mants Champagns Chablees Frontiniacks tell Their Aums of Hock of Backrag and Moselle He envies not their Luxury Which they with so much pains and danger buy For which so many Storms and Wrecks they bear For which they pass the Streights so oft each year And scape so narrowly the Bondage of Argier 3. He wants no Cyprus Birds nor Ortolaâ—…s Nor Daintics fetch'd from far to please his Sense Cheap wholsom Herbs content his frugal Board The food of unfaln Innocence Which the mean'st Village Garden does afford Grant him kind Heav'n the sum of his desires What Nature not what Luxury requires He only does a Competency claim And when he has it wit to use the same Grant him sound Health impair'd by no Disease Nor by his own Excess Let him in strength of Mind and Body live But not his Reason nor his Sense survive His Age if Age he e're must live to see Let it from want Contempt and Care be free But not from Mirth and the delights of Poetry Grant him but this he 's amply satisfi'd And scorns whatever Fate can give beside Paraphrase upon HORACE BOOK II. ODE XIV Eheu fugaces Posthume Posthume Labuntur anni c. 1. ALas dear Friend alas time hastes away Nor is it in our pow'r to bribe its stay The rolling years with constant motion run Lo while I speak the present minute 's gone And following hours urge the foregoing on 'T is not thy Wealth 't is not thy Power 'T is not thy Piety can thee secure They 're all too feeble to withstand Grey Hairs approaching Age and thy avoidless end When once thy fatal Glass is run When once thy utmost Thread is spun 'T will then be fruitless to expect Reprieve Could'st thou ten thousand Kingdoms give In purchase for each hour of longer life They would not buy one gasp of breath Not move one jot inexorable Death 2. All the vast stock of humane Progeny Which now like swarms of Insects â—…wl Upon the Surface of Earth's spacious Ball Must quit this Hillock of Mortality And in its Bowels buried lie The mightiest King and proudest Potentate In spight of all his Pomp and all his State Must pay this necessary Tribute unto Fate The busie restless Monarch of the times which now Keeps such a pother and so much ado To fill Gazettes alive And after in some lying Annal to survive Ev'n He ev'n that great mortal Man must die And stink and rot as well as thou and I As well as the poor tatter'd Wretch that begs his bread And is with scraps out of the common Basket sed 3. In vain from dangers of the bloudy Field we keep In vain we escape The sultry Line and stormy Cape And all the treacheries of the faithless Deep In vain for health to forein Countries we repair And change our English for Mompellier Air In hope to leave our fears of dying there In vain with costly far fetch'd Drugs we strive To keep the wasting vital Lamp alive In vain on Doctors feeble Art rely Against resistless Death there is no remedy Both we and they for all their skill must die And fill alike the Bedrols of Mortality 4. Thou must thou must resign to Fate my Friend And leave thy House thy Wife and Family behind Thou must thy fair and goodly Mannors leave Of these thy Trees thou shalt not with thee take Save just as much as will thy Coffin make Nor wilt thou be allow'd of all thy Land to have But the small pittance of a six-foot Grave Then shall thy prodigal young Heir Lavish the Wealth which thou for many a year Hast hoarded up with so much pains and care Then shall he drain thy Cellars of their Stores Kept sacred now as vaults of buried Ancestors Shall set th' enlarged Butts at liberty Which there close Pris'ners under durance lie And wash these stately Floors with better Wine Than that of consecrated Prelates when they dine The PRAISE of HOMER ODE 1. HAil God of Verse pardon that thus I take in vain Thy sacred everlasting Name And in unhallow'd Lines blaspheme Pardon that with strange Fire thy Altars I profane Hail thou to whom we mortal Bards our Faith submit Whom we acknowledg
next Morning vig'rous for the Fight Fresh as the Day and active as the Light No Maid that ever under me took pay From my Embrace went unoblig'd away Bless'd he who in Loves service yields his Breath Grant me ye Gods so sweet to wish'd a Death In bloudy Fields let Souldiers meet their Fate To purchase dear bought Honour at the rate Let greedy Merchants trust the faithless Main And shipwrack Life and Soul for sordid gain Dying let me expire in gasps of Lust And in a gush of Joy give up the Ghost And some kind pitying Friend shall say of me So did he live and so deserv'd to die A FRAGMENT of PETRONIUS PARAPHRAS'D Foeda est in coitu brevis voluptas c. I Hate Fruition now 't is past 'T is all but nastiness at best The homeliest thing that man can do Besides 't is short and fleeting too A squirt of slippery Delight That with a moment takes its flight A fulsom Bliss that soon does cloy And makes us loath what we enjoy Then let us not too eager run By Passion blindly hurried on Like Beasts who nothing better know Than what meer Lust 〈◊〉 them to For when in Flouds of Love we 're dronch'd The Flames are by enjoyment quench'd But thus let 's thus together lie And kiss out long Eternity Here we dread no conscious Spies No blushes stain our guiltless Joys Here no Faintness dulls Desires And Pleasure never flags nor tires This has pleas'd and pleases now And for Ages will do so Enjoyment here is never done But fresh and always but begun AN ODE OF ANACREON PARAPHRAS'D The CUP 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 c. MAke me a Bowl a mighty Bowl Large as my capacious Soul Vast as my thirst is let it have Depth enough to be my Grave I mean the Grave of all my Care For I intend to bury't there Let it of Silver fashion'd be Worthy of Wine worthy of me Worthy to adorn the Spheres As that bright Cup amongst the Stars That Cup which Heaven deign'd a place Next the Sun its greatest Grace Kind Cup that to the Stars did go To light poor Drunkards her below Let mine be so and give me light That I may drink and revel by 't Yet draw no shapes of Armour there No Cask nor Shield nor Sword nor Spear Nor Wars of Thebes nor Wars of Troy Nor any other martial Toy For what do I vain Armour prize Who mind not such rough Exercise But gentler Sieges softer Wars Fights that cause no Wounds or Scars I 'll have no Battels on my Plate Lest sight of them should Brawls create Lest that provoke to Quarrels too Which Wine it self enough can do Draw me no Constellations there No Ram nor Bull nor Dog nor Bear Nor any of that monstrous fry Of Animals which stock the sky For what are Stars to my Design Stars which I when drunk out-shine Out-shone by every drop of Wine I lack no Pole-Star on the Brink To guide in the wide Sea of Drink But would for ever there be tost And wish no Haven seek no Coast. Yet Gentle Artist if thou 'lt try Thy Skill then draw me let me see Draw me first a spreading Vine Make its Arms the Bowl entwine With kind embraces such as I Twist about my loving she Let its Boughs o're-spread above Scenes of Drinking Scenes of Love Draw next the Patron of that Tree Draw Bacchus and sost Cupid by Draw them both in toping Shapes Their Temples crown'd with cluster'd Grapes Make them lean against the Cup As 't were to keep their Figures up And when their reeling Forms I view I 'll think them drunk and be so too The Gods shall my examples be The Gods thus drunk in Effigy An Allusion to MARTIAL BOOK I. EPIG 118. AS oft Sir Tradewel as we meet You 're sure to ask me in the street When you shall send your Boy to me To fetch my Book of Poetry And promise you 'l but read it o're And faithfully the Loan restore But let me ye as a Friend You need not take the pains to send 'T is a long way to where I dwell At farther end of Clarkenwel There in a Garret near the Sky Above five pair of Stairs I lie But if you 'd have what you pretend You may procure it nearer hand In Cornhil where you often go Hard by th' Exchange there is you know A Shop of Rhime where you may see The Posts all clad in Poetry There H lives of high renown The noted'st TORY in the Town Where if you please enquire for me And he or 's Prentice presently From the next Shelf will reach you down The Piece well bound for half a Crown The Price is much too dear you cry To give for both the Book and me Yes doubtless for such vanities We know Sir you are too too wise THE DREAM Written March 10. 1677. LAte as I on my Bed reposing lay And in soft sleep forgot the Toils of Day My self my Cares and Love all charm'd to Rest And all the Tumults of my waking Breast Quiet and calm as was the silent Night Whose stillness did to that bless'd sleep invite I dreamt and strait this visionary Scene Did with Delight my Fancy entertain I saw methought a lonely Privacy Remote alike from man's and Heavens Eye Girt with the covert of a shady Grove Dark as my thoughts and secret as my Love Hard by a Stream did with that softness creep As 't were by its own murmurs husht asleep On its green Bank under a spreading Tree At once a pleasant and a shelt'ring Canopy There I and there my dear Cosmelia sate Nor envied Monarchs in our safe Retreat So heretofore were the first Lovers laid On the same Turf of which themselves were made A while I did her charming Glories view Which to their former Conquests added new A while my wanton hand was pleas'd to rove Through all the hidden Labyrinths of Love Ten thousand Kisses on her Lips I fix'd Which she with interfering Kisses mix'd Eager as those of Lovers are in Death When they give up their Souls too with the Breath Love by these Freedoms first became more bold At length unruly and too fierce to hold See then said I and pity charming Fair Yield quickly yield I can no longer bear Th' impatient Sallies of a Bliss so near Tou must and you alone these storms appease And lay those Spirits which your Charms could raise Come and in equal Flouds let 's quench our Flame Come let 's and unawares I went to name The Thing but stopt and blusht methought in Dream At first she did the rude Address disown And check'd my Boldness with an angry Frown But yielding Glances and consenting Eyes Prov'd the soft Traitors to her forc'd Disguise And soon her looks with anger rough e're while Sunk in the dimples of a calmer smile Then with a sigh into these words she broke And printed melting Kisses as she spoke Too strong Philander is thy
destroy In the bless'd state of infant time unknown When Glory sprung from Innocence alone Each from his merit only Title drew And that alone made Kings and Nobles too Then scorning borrow'd Helps to prop his Name The Hero from himself deriv'd his Fame But Merit by degenerate time at last Saw Vice ennobled and her self debas'd And haughty Pride false pompous Titles feign'd T' amuse the World and Lord it o're Mankind Thence the vast Herd of Earls and Barons came For Virtue each brought nothing but a Name Soon aster Man fruitful in Vanities Did Blazoning and Armory devise Founded a College for the Herald's Art And made a Language of their Terms apart Compos'd of frightful words of Chief and Base Of Chevron Saltier Canton Bend and Fess And whatsoe're of hideous Jargon else Mad Guillim and his barbarous Volume fills Then farther the wild Folly to pursue Plain down right Honour out of fashion grew But to keep up its Dignity and Birth Expence and Luxury must set it forth It must inhabit stately Palaces Distinguish Servants by their Liveries And carrying vast Retinues up and down The Duke and Earl be by their Pages known Thus Honour to support it self is brought To its last shifts and thence the Art has got Of borrowing every where and paying nought 'T is now thought mean and much beneath a Lord To be an honest man and keep his Word Who by his Peerage and Protection safe Can plead the priviledge to be a Knave While daily Crowds of starving Creditors Are forc'd to dance attendance at his doors Till he at length with all his mortgag'd Lands Are forfeited into the Banker's hands Then to redress his wants the bankrupt Peer To some rich trading Sot turns Pensioner And the next News you 're sure to hear that he Is nobly wed into the Company Where for a Portion of ill gotten Gold Himself and all his Ancestors are sold And thus repairs his broken Family At the expence of his own Infamy For if you want Estate to set it forth In vain you boast the splendor of your Birth Your priz'd Gentility for madness goes And each your Kindred shuns and disavows But he that 's rich is prais'd at his full rate And tho he once cry'd Small coal in the street Tho he nor none of his e're mentioned were But in the Parish Book or Register D lé by help of Chronicle shall trace An hundred Barons of his ancient Race A SATYR Addressed to a Friend that is about to leave the University and come abroad in the World IF you 're so out of love with Happiness To quit a College life and learned ease Convince me first and some good Reasons give What methods and designs you 'l take to live For such Resolves are needful in the Case Before you tread the worlds Mysterious Maze Without the Premisses in vain you 'l try To live by Systems of Philosophy Your Aristotle Cartes and Le-Grand And Euclid too in little stead will stand How many men of choice and noted parts Well fraught with Learning Languages and Arts Designing high Preferment in their mind And little doubting good success to find With vast and tow'ring thoughts have flock'd to Town But to their cost soon found themselves undone Now to repent and starve at leisure left Of miseries last Comfort Hope bereft These fail'd for want of good Advice you cry Because at first they fix'd on no employ Well then let 's draw the Prospect and the Scene To all advantage possibly we can The world lies now before you let me hear What course your Judgment counsels you to steer Always consider'd that your whole Estate And all your Fortune lies beneath your Hat Were you the Son of some rich Usurer That starv'd and damn'd himself to make his Heir Left nought to do but to inter the Sot And spend with ease what he with pains had got 'T were easie to advise how you might live Nor would there need instruction then to give But you that boast of no Inheritance Save that small Stock which lies within your Brains Learning must be your Trade and therefore weigh With heed how you your Game the best may play Bethink your self a while and then propose What way of Life is fitt'st for you to choose If you for Orders and a Gown design Consider only this dear Friend of mine The Church is grown so over-stock'd of late That if you walk abroad you 'l hardly meet More Porters now than Parsons in the street At every Corner they are forc'd to ply For Jobs of hawkering Divinity And half the number of the Sacred Herd Are fain to strowl and wander unpreferr'd If this or thoughts of such a weighty Charge Make you resolve to keep your self at large For want of better opportunity A School must your next Sanctuary be Go wed some Grammar-Bridewel and a Wife And there beat Greek and Latinâ—… for your life With Birchen Scepter there command at will Greater than Busby's self or Doctor Gill But who would be to the vile Drudg'ry bound Where there so small encouragement is found Where you for recompence of all your pains Shall hardly reach a common Fidler's gains For when you 've toil'd and labour'd all you can To dung and cultivate a barren Brain A Dancing Master shall be better paid Tho he instructs the Heels and you the Head To such Indulgence are kind Parents grown That nought costs less in Breeding than a Son Nor is it hard to find a Father now Shall more upon a Setting-dog allow And with a freer hand reward the Care Of training up his Spaniel than his Heir Some think themselves exalted to the Sky If they light in some noble Family Diet an Horse and thirty pounds a year Besides the advantage of his Lordships ear The credit of the business and the State Are things that in a Younster's Sense sound great Little the unexperienc'd Wretch does know What slavery he oft must undergo Who tho in silken Skarf and Cassock drest Wears but a gayer Livery at best When Dinner calls the Implement must wait With holy Words to consecrate the Meat But hold it for a Favour seldom known If he be deign'd the Honour to sit down Soon as the Tarts appear Sir Crape withdraw Those Dainties are not for a spiritual Maw Observe your distance and be sure to stand Hard by the Cistern with your Cap in hand There for diversion you may pick your Teeth Till the kind Voider comes for your Relief For meer Board-wages such their Freedom sell Slaves to an Hour and Vassals to a Bell And if th' enjoyment of one day be stole They are but Pris'ners out upon Parole Always the marks of slavery remain And they tho loose still drag about their Chain And where 's the mighty Prospect after all A Chaplainship serv'd up and seven years Thrall The menial thing perhaps for a Reward Is to some slender Benefice preferr'd With this Proviso bound that he must
wed My Ladies antiquated Waiting-maid In Dressing only skill'd and Marmalade Let others who such meannesses can brook Strike Countenance to every Great man's Look Let those that have a mind turn slaves to ear And live contented by another's Plate I rate my Freedom higher nor will I For Food and Rayment truck my Liberty But if I must to my last shifts be put To fill a Bladder and twelve yards of Gut Rather with counterfeited wooden Leg And my right Arm tied up I 'll chuse to beg I 'll rather chuse to starve at large than be The gawdiest Vassal to Dependency 'T has ever been the top of my Desires The utmost height to which my wish aspires That Heav'n would bless me with a small Estate Where I might find a close obscure retreat There free from Noise and all ambitious ends Enjoy a few choice Books and fewer Friends Lord of my self accountable to none But to my Conscience and my God alone There live unthought of and unheard of die And grudge Mankind my very memory But since the Blessing is I find too great For me to wish for or expect of Fate Yet maugre all the spight of Destiny My Thoughts and Actions are and shall be free A certain Author very grave and sage This Story tells no matter what the Page One time as they walk'd forth e're break of day The Wolf and Dog encounter'd on the way Famish'd the one meager and lean of plight As a cast Poet who for Bread does write The other fat and plump as Prebend was Pamper'd with Luxury and holy Ease Thus met with Complements too long to tell Of being glad to see each other well How now Sir Towzer said the Wolf I pray Whence comes it that you look so sleek and gay While I who do as well I 'm sure deserve For want of Livelihood am like to starve Troth Sir replied the Dog 'thas been my Fate I thank the friendly Stars to hap of late On a kind Master to whose care I owe All this good Flesh wherewith you see me now From his rich Voider every day I 'm fed With Bones of Fowl and Crusts of finest Bread With Fricassee Ragoust and whatsoe're Of costly Kickshaws now in fashion are And more variety of Boil'd and Roast Than a Lord Mayor's Waiter e're could boast Then Sir 't is hardly credible to tell How I 'm respected and belov'd by all I 'm the Delight of the whole Family Not darling Shock more Favourite than I I never sleep abroad to Air expos'd But in my warm apartment am inclos'd There on fresh Bed of Straw with Canopy Of Hutch above like Dog of State I lie Besides when with high Fare and Nature fir'd To generous Sports of Youth I am inspir'd All the proud shee s are soft to my Embrace From Bitch of Quality down to Turn-spit Race Each day I try new Mistrisses and Loves Nor envy Sovereign Dogs in their Alcoves Thus happy I of all enjoy the best No mortal Cur on Earth yet half so bless'd And farther to enhance the Happiness All this I get by idleness and ease Troth said the Wolf I envy your Estate Would to the Gods it were but my good Fate That I might happily admitted be A member of your bless'd Society I would with Faithfulness discharge my place In any thing that I might serve his Grace But think you Sir it mould be feasible And that my Application might prevail Do but endeavour Sir you need not doubt I make no question but to bring 't about Only rely on me and rest secure I 'll serve you to the utmost of my Pow'r As I 'm a Dog of Honour Sir but this I only take the Freedom to advise That you 'd a little lay your Roughness by And learn to practice Complaisance like me For that let me alone I 'll have a care And top my part I warrant to a hair There 's not a Courtier of them all shall vie For Fawning and for Suppleness with me And thus resolv'd at last the Travellers Towards the House together shape their course The Dog who Breeding well did understand In walking gives his Ghest the upper hand And as they walk along they all the while With Mirth and pleasant Raillery beguile The tedious Time and Way till Day drew near And Light came on by which did soon appear The Mastiffs Neck to view all worn and bare This when his Comrade spi'd What means said he This Circle bare which round your Neck I see If I may be so bold Sir you must know That I at first was rough and fierce like you Of Nature curs'd and often apt to bite Strangers and else who ever came in sight For this I was tied up and underwent The Whip sometimes and such light Chastisement Till I at length by Discipline grew tame Gentle and tractable as now I am 'T was by this short and slight severity I gain'd these Marks and Badges which you see But what are they Allons Monsieur let 's go Not one step farther Sir excuse me now Much joy t' ye of your envied bless'd Estate I will not buy Preferment at that rate A Gods name take your golden Chains for me Faith I 'd not be a King not to be free Sir Dog your humble Servant so Godbw'y SOME VERSE Written in Septemb. 1676. Presenting a Book to COSMELIA GO humble Gift go to that matchless Saint Of whom thou only wast a Copy meant And all that 's read in thee more richly find Compriz'd in the fair Volume of her mind That living System where are fully writ All those high Morals which in Books we meet Easie as in soft Air there writ they are Yet firm as if in Brass they graven were Nor is her Talent lazily to know As dull Divines and holy Canters do She acts what they only in Pulpits prate And Theory to Practice does translate Nor her own Actions more obey her Will Than that obeys strict Virtues dictates still Yet does not Virtue from her Duty flow But she is good because she will be so ' Her Virtue scorns at a low pitch to flie T is all free Choice nought of Necessity By such soft Rules are Saints above confin'd Such is the Tie which them to Good does bind The scatter'd Glories of her happy Sex In her bright Soul as in their Center mix And all that they possess but by Retail She hers by just Monopoly can call Whose sole Example does more Virtues shew Than Schoolmen ever taught or ever knew No Act did e're within her Practice fall Which for the attonement of a Bush could call No word of hers e're greeted any ear But what a Saint at her last gasp might hear Scarcely her Thoughts have ever sullied been With the least print or stain of native Sin Devout she is as holy Hermits are Who share their time 'twixt Extasie and Prayer Modest as infant Roses in their Bloom Who in a Blush their fragrant Lives consume So chaste
down and falls asleep FINIS REMAINS OF Mr. John Oldham IN VERSE and PROSE LONDON Printed for Jo. Hindmarsh Bookseller to his Royal Highness at the Black Bull in Cornil 1684. Advertisement THe Author of these following Poems being dead the Publisher thought fit to acquaint the World that the reason why he exposed them now in Print was not so much for his own Interest tho a Bookseller that disclaims Interest for a pretence will no more be believed now adays than a thorough paced Phanatick that pretends he makes a journey to New England purely for conscience sake but for securing the reputation of Mr. Oldham which might otherwise have suffered from worse hands and out of a desire he has to print the last Remains of his friend since he had the good fortune to publish his first Pieces He confesses that it is the greatest piece of injustice to publish the posthumous Works of Authors especially such that we may suppose they had brought to the file and sent out with more advantages into the World had they not been prevented by untimely death and therefore assures you he had never presumed to print these following Miscellanies had they not already been countenanced by men of unquestionable repute and esteem He is not of the same perswasion with several others of his own profession that never care how much they lessen the reputation of the Poet if they can but inhance the value of the Book that ransackt he Studies of the deceased and print all that passed under the Author's hands from Fifteen to Forty and upwards and as the incomparable Mr. Cowley has exprest it think a rude heap of ill placed Stones a better Monument than a neat Tomb of Marble For the Description of the Country P the only part in this Book that he judges liable to exception he makes you no Apology at all For to men of candor and judgment any thing that comes from Mr. Oldham will certainly be acceptable to others that are resolved to damn at first sight he thinks a defence of this nature signifies no more than a Plantiffs perswasions to a hungry Judg after twelve However he is very confident that the rest of Mr. Oldham's pieces will abundantly atone for one unfinished draught and that no man of sense and reason will quarel at one bad half Crown in a good round substantial lump of Money To the MEMORY of Mr. OLDHAM FArewel too little and too lately known Whom I began to think and call my own For sure our Souls were near ally'd and thine Cast in the same Poetick mould with mine One common Note on either Lyre did strike And Knaves and Fools we both abhorr'd alike To the same Goal did both our Studies drive The last set out the soonest did arrive Thus Nisus fell upon the slippery place While his young Friend perform'd and won the Race O early ripe to thy abundant store What could advancing Age have added more It might what Nature never gives the young Have taught the numbers of thy native Tongue But Satyr needs not those and Wit will shine Through the harsh cadence of a rugged line A noble Error and but seldom made When Poets are by too much force betray'd Thy generous fruits though gather'd ere their prime Still shew'd a quickness and maturing time But mellows what we write to the dull sweets of Rime Once more hail and farewel farewel thou young But ah too short Marcellus of our Tongue Thy Brows with Ivy and with Laurels bound But Fate and gloomy Night encompass thee around JOHN DRYDEN Authori Epitaphium HOc ô Viator marmore conditae Charae recumbunt Exuviae brevem Viventis oh sors dura vitam Praecoce coelum animâ petentis Nec praepedita est Mens celeris diù Quin Pustularum mille tumoribus Effâ—…oruit portisque mille Praepes iter patefecit altum Musarum Alumnus jà m fuit artibus Instructus almis quas studio pio Atque aure quà m fidâ repostas Oxonij coluit Parentis Hic quadriennis praemia Filii Dignus recepit Vellera candida Collati Honoris signa necnon Innocui simulacra cordis Sed manè montis summa cacumina Ascendit ardens Pierio jugo Insedit atque errore multo Ipsum Helicona scatere vidit Nunc pura veri Flumina perspicit Nunc mira Mundi semina concipit Pulchrasque primaevi figuras In speculo species creante At Tu Viator Numina poscito Ut dissolutis reliquijs vaga Dùm mens remigret detur ah su Terra levis placidusque somnus On the Death of Mr. John Oldham A Pindarique Pastoral Ode Stanza I. UNdoubtedly 't is thy peculiar Fate Ah miserable Astragon Thou art condemn'd alone To bear the Burthen of a wretched Life Still in this howling Wilderness to roam While all thy Bosom-friends unkindly go And leave thee to lament them here below Thy dear Alexis would not stay Joy of thy Life and Pleasure of thine Eyes Dear Alexis went away With an invincible Surprize Th' Angel-like Youth early dislik'd this State And chearfully submitted to his Fate Never did Soul of a Celestial Birth Inform a purer piece of Earth O that 't were not in vain To wish what 's past might be retriev'd again Thy Dotage thy Alexis then Had answer'd all thy Vows and Pray'rs And Crown'd with pregnant Joys thy silver Hairs Lov'd to this day among the living Sons of Men. II. And thou my Friend hast left me too Menalcas poor Menalcas even thou Of whom so loudly Fame has spoke In the Records of her immortal Book Whose disregarded Worth Ages to come Shall wail with Indignation o'er thy Tomb. Worthy wert thou to live as long as Vice Should need a Satyr that the frantick Age Might tremble at the Lash of thy poetick Rage Th' untutor'd World in after Times May live uncensur'd for their Crimes Freed from the Dreads of thy reforming Pen Turn to old Chaos once again Of all th' instructive Bards whose more than Theban Lyre Could savage Souls with manly Thoughts inspire Menalcas worthy was to live Say you his Fellow-Shepherds that survive Tell me you mournful Swains Has my ador'd Menalcas left behind In all these pensive Plains A gentler Shepherd with a braver mind Which of you all did more Majestick Show Or wore the Garland on a sweeter Brow III. But wayward Astragon resolves no more The Loss of his Menalcas to deplore The place to which he wisely is withdrawn Is altogether blest There no Clouds o'erwhelm his Breast No Midnight Cares can break his Rest For all is everlasting cheerful Dawn The Poet's Bliss there shall he long possess Perfect Ease and soft Recess The treacherous World no more shall him deceive Of Hope and Fortune he has taken Leave And now in mighty Triumph does he reign His Head adorn'd with Beams of Light O'er the unthinking Rabble's Spite And the dull wealthy Fool 's disdain Thrice happy he that dies the Muses Friend He needs no Obelisque no Pyramid His sacred Dust
to hide He needs not for his Memory to provide For he might well foresee his Praise can never end Thomas Flatman In memory of the Author TAke this short-summon'd loose unfinisht Verse Cold as thy Tomb and suddainas thy Hears From my sick Thoughts thou canst no better crave Who scarce drag Life and envy thee thy Grave Me Phoebus always faintly did inspire And gave my narrow Breast more scanty Fire My Hybla-Muse through humble Meads sought Spoil Collecting little Sweets with mighty Toil Yet when some Friend 's just Fame did Theme afford Her Voice amongst the tow ' ring Swans was heard In vain for such Attendance now I call My Ink o'erflows with Spleen my Blood with Gall Yet sweet Alexis my Esteem of thee Was equal to thy Worth and Love for me Death is thy Gain that Thought affects me most I care not what th' ill-natur'd World has lost For Wit with thee expir'd how shall I grieve Who grudge th' ingrateful Age what thou didst leave The Tribute of their Verse let others send And mourn the Poet gone I mourn the Friend Enjoy thy Fate thy Predecessors come Cowley and Butler to conduct thee home Who would not Butler cries like me engage New Worlds of Wit to serve a grateful Age For such Rewards what Tasks will Authors shun I pray Sir is my Monument begun Enjoy thy Fate thy Voice in Anthems raise So well tun'd here on Earth to our Apollo's Praise Let me retire while some sublimer Pen Performs for thee what thou hast done for Homer and for Ben. N. T. On the ensuing Poems of Mr. John Oldham and the Death of his good Friend the ingenious Author OBscure and cloudy did the day appear As Heaven design'd to blot it from the year The Elements all seem'd to disagree At least I 'm sure they were at strife in me Possest with Spleen which Melancholy bred When Rumor told me that my Friend was dead That Oldham honour'd for his early Worth Was cropt like a sweet Blossom from the Earth Where late he grew delighting every Eye In his rare Garden of Philosophy The fatal Sound new Sorrows did infuse And all my Griefs were doubled at the News For we with mutual Arms of Friendship strove Friendship the true and solid part of Love And he so many Graces had in store That Fame or Beauty could not bind me more His Wit in his immortal Verse appears Many his Vertues were tho' few his Years Which were so spent as if by Heaven contriv'd To lash the Vices of the longer liv'd None was more skilful none more learn'd than he A Poet in its sacred Quality Inspir'd above and could command each Passion Had all the Wit without the Affectation A Calm of Nature still possest his Soul No canker'd Envy did his Breast controul Modest as Virgins that have never known The jilting Breeding of the nauseous Town And easie as his Numbers that sublime His lofty Strains and beautifie his Rhime Till the Time's Ignomy inspir'd his Pen And rowz'd the drowsie Satyr from his Den Then fluttering Fops were his Aversion still And felt the Power of his Satyrick Quill The Spark whose Noise proclaims his empty Pate That struts along the Mall with antick Gate And all the Phyllis and the Chloris Fools Were damn'd by his invective Muse in Shoals Who on the Age look'd with impartial Eyes And aim'd not at the Person but the Vice To all true Wit he was a constant Friend And as he well could judge could well commend The mighty Homer he with Care perus'd And that great Genius to the World infus'd Immortal Virgil and Lucretius too And all the Seeds o' th' Soul his Reason knew Like Ovid could the Ladies Hearts assail With Horace sing and lash with Juvenal Unskill'd in nought that did with Learning dwell But Pride to know he understood it well Adieu thou modest Type of perfect Man Ah had not thy Perfections that began In Life's bright Morning been eclips'd so soon We all had bask'd and wanton'd in thy Noon But Fate grew envious of thy growing Fame And knowing Heav'n from whence thy Genius came Assign'd thee by immutable Decree A glorious Crown of Immortality Snatch't thee from all thy mourning Friends below Just as the Bays were planting on thy Brow Thus worldly Merit has the Worlds Regard But Poets in the next have their Reward And Heaven in Oldham's Fortune seem'd to show No Recompence was good enough below So to prevent the Worlds ingrateful Crimes Enrich'd his Mind and bid him die betimes T. Durfey On the Death of Mr. John Oldham HEark is it only my prophetick Fear Or some Death's sad Alarum that I hear By all my Doubts 't is Oldham's fatal Knell It rings aloud eternally farewel Farewell thou mighty Genius of our Isle Whose forward Parts made all our Nation smile In whom both Wit and Knowledge did conspire And Nature gaz'd as if she did admire How such few years such Learning could acquire Nay seem'd concern'd that we should hardly find So sharp a Pen and so serene a Mind Oh then lament let each distracted Breast With universal Sorrow be possest Mourn mourn ye Muses and your Songs give o'er For now your lov'd Adonis is no more He whom ye tutor'd from his Infant-years Cold pale and ghastly as the Grave appears He whom ye bath'd in your lov'd murmuring Stream Your daily pleasure and your mighty Theme Is now no more the Youth the Youth is dead The mighty Soul of Poetry is fled Fled e'er his Worth or Merit was half known No sooner seen but in a Moment gone Like to some tender Plant which rear'd with Care At length becomes most fragrant and most fair Long does it thrive and long its Pride maintain Esteem'd secure from Thunder Storm or Rain Then comes a Blast and all the Work is vain But Oh! my Friend must we no more rehearse Thy equal Numbers in thy pleasing Verse In Love how soft in Satyr how severe In Passion moving and in Rage austere Virgil in Judgment Ovid in Delight An easie Thought with a Meonian Flight Horace in Sweetness Juvenal in Rage And even Biblis must each Heart engage Just in his Praises and what most desire Wou'd flatter none for Greatness Love or Hire Humble though courted and what 's rare to see Of wondrous Worth yet wondrous Modesty So far from ostentation he did seem That he was meanest in his own Esteem Alas young man why wert thou made to be At once our Glory and our Misery Our Misery in losing thee is more Than could thy Life our Glory be before For shou'd a Soul celestial Joys possess And straight be banish'd from that Happiness Oh where would be its Pleasure where its ' Gain TheBliss once tasted but augments the Pain So having once so great a Prize in thee How much the heavier must our Sorrows be For if such Flights were in thy younger Days What if thou'dst liv'd O what had been thy Praise Eternal Wreaths of
never-dying Bays But those are due already to thy Name Which stands enroll'd in the Records of Fame And though thy great Remains to Ashes turn With lasting Praises we 'll supply thy Urn Which like Sepulchral Lamps shall ever burn But hold methinks great Shade I see thee rove Through the smooth Path of Plenty Peace and Love Where Ben. salutes thee first o'erjoy'd to see The Youth that sung his Fame and Memory Great Spencer next with all the learned Train Do greet thee in a Panegyrick Strain Adonis is the Joy of all the Plain Tho. Andrews DAMON an ECLOGUE On the untimely Death of Mr. Oldham Corydon Alexis BEneath a dismal Yew the Shepherds sate And talk'd of Damon's Muse and Damon's Fate Their mutual Lamentations gave them Ease For sometimes Melancholy it self does please Like Philomel abandon'd to distress Yet ev'n their Griefs in Musick they express Cor. I 'll sing no more since Verses want a Charm The Muses could not their own Damon arm At least I 'll touch this useless Pipe no more Unless like Orpheus I could Shades restore A. Rather like Orpheus celebrate your Friend And with your Musick Hell it self suspend Tax Proserpine of Cruelty and Hate And sing of Damon's Muse and Damon's Fate C. When Damon sung he sung with such a Grace Lord how the very London-brutes did gaze Sharp was his Satyr nor allay'd with Gall 'T was Rage 't was generous Indignation all A. Oh had he liv'd and to Perfection grown Not like Marcellus only to be shown He would have charm'd their Sence a nobler way Taught Virgins how to sigh and Priests to pray C. Let Priests and Virgins then to him address And in their Songs their Gratitude express While we that know the Worth of easie Verse Secure the Laurel to adorn his Herse A. Codrus you know that sacred Badge does wear And 't were injurious not to leave it there But since no Merit can strike Envy dumb Do you with Baccar guard and grace his Tomb. C. While you dear Swain with unaffected Rhime Majestick sad and suited to the Time His Name to future Ages consecrate By praising of his Muse and mourning of his Fate A. Alas I never must pretend to this My Pipe scarce knows a Tune but what is his Let future Ages then for Damon's sake From his own Works a just Idaea take Yet then but like Alcides he 'll be shown And from his meanest part his Size be known C. 'T will be your Duty then to set it down A. Once and but once so Heav'n and Fate ordain I met the gentle Youth upon the Plain Kindly cries he if you Alexis be And though I know you not you must be he Too long already we have Strangers been This Day at least our Friendship must begin Let Business that perverse Intruder wait To be above it is poetical and great Then with Assyrian Nard our Heads did shine While rich Sabaean Spice exalts the Wine Which to a just Degree our Spirits fir'd But he was by a greater God inspir'd Wit was the Theme which he did well describe With Modesty unusual to his Tribe But as with ominous Doubts and aking Heart When Lovers after first Enjoyment part Not half content for this was but a Taste And wond'ring how the Minutes flew so fast They vow a Friendship that shall ever last So we but Oh how much am I accurs'd To think that this last Office is my first Occasioned by the present Edition of the ensuing Poems and the Death of the ingenious Author CUrs'd be the day when first this goodly Isle Vile Books and useless thinking did defile In Greek and Latin-Boggs our Time we waste When all is Pain and Weariness at best Mountains of Whims and Doubts we travel o'er While treacherous Fancy dances on before Pleas'd with our Danger still we stumble on To late repent and are too soon undone Let Bodley now in its own Ruines lie By th' common Hangman burnt for Heresie Avoid the nasty learned Dust 't will breed More Plagues than ever Jakes or Dunghils did The want of Dulness will the World undo 'T is Learning makes us mad and Rebels too Learning a Jilt which while we do enjoy Slily our Rest and Quiet steals away That greedily the Blood of Youth receives And nought but Blindness and a Dotage gives Worse than the Pox or scolding Woman fly The awkward Madness of Philosophy That Bedlam Bess Religion never more Phantastick pie-ball'd antick Dresses wore Opinion Pride Moroseness gives a Fame 'T is Folly christen'd with a modish Name Let dull Divinity no more delight It spoils the Man and makes an Hypocrite The chief Professors to Preferment fly By Cringe and Scrape the basest Simony The humble Clown will best the Gospel teach And inspir'd Ign'rance sounder Doctrines preach A way to Heav'n mere Nature well does shew Which reasoning and Disputes can never know Yet still proud Tyrant Sence in Pomp appears And claims a Tribute of full threescore Years Sew'd in a Sack with Darkness circl'd round Each man must be with Snakes and Monkeys drown'd Laborious Folly and compendious Art To waste that Life whose longest Date 's too short Laborious Folly to wind up with Pain What Death unravels soon and renders vain We blindly hurry on in mystick ways Nor wisely tread the Paths of solid Praife There 's nought deserves one precious drop of sweat But Poetry the noblest Gift of Fate Which after Death does a more lasting Life beget Not that which suddain frantick Heats produce Where Wine and Pride not Heav'n shall raise the Muse. Not that small Stock which does Translators make That Trade poor Bankrupt-Poetasters take But such when God his Fiat did express And powerful Numbers wrought an Universe With such great David tun'd his charming Lyre That even Saul and Madness could admire With such Great Oldham bravely did excell That David's Lamentation sung so well Oldham the Man that could with Judgment writt Our Oxford's Glory and the World's Delight Sometimes in boundless keenest Satyr bold Sometimes a soft as those Love-tales he told That Vice could praise and Vertue too disgrace The first Excess of Wit that e'er did please Scarce Cowley such Pindarique soaring knew Yet by his Reader still was kept in view His Fancy like Jove's Eagle liv'd above And bearing Thunder still would upward move Oh Noble Kingston had thy lovely Guest With a large stock of Youth and Life been Blest Not all thy Greatness and thy Vertues store Had surer Comforts been or pleased thee more But Oh! the date is short of mighty Worth And Angels never tarry long on Earth His soul the bright the pure Etherial Flame To those lov'd Regions flew from whence it came And spight of what Mankind had long believ'd My Creed says only Poets can be sav'd That God has only for a number staid To stop the breach which Rebel Angels made For none their absence can so well supply They are all o're Seraphick Harmony Then
too No one the wretched Bard would have suppli'd With Lodging House-room or a Crust of Bread But if the Fire burn down some Great Man's House All strait are interessed in the loss The Court is strait in Mourning sure enough The Act Commencement and the Term put off Then we Mischances of the Town lament And Fasts are kept like Judgments to prevent Out comes a Brief immediately with speed To gather Charity as far as Tweed Nay while 't is burning some will send him in Timber and Stone to build his House agen Others choice Furniture here some rare piece Of Rubens or Vandike presented is There a rich Suit of Moreclack-Tapestry A Bed of Damask or Embroidery One gives a fine Scritore or Cabinet Another a huge massie Dish of Plate Or Bag of Gold thus he at length gets more By kind misfortune than he had before And all suspect it for a laid Design As if he did himself the Fire begin Could you but be advis'd to leave the Town And from dear Plays and drinking Friends be drawn An handsom Dwelling might be had in Kent Surrey or Essex at a cheaper Rent Than what you 're forc'd to give for one half year To lie like Lumber in a Garret here A Garden there and Well that needs no Rope Engine or Pains to Crane its Waters up Water is there through Natures Pipes convey'd For which no Custom or Excise is paid Had I the smallest Spot of Ground which scarce Would Summer half a dozen Grashoppers Not larger than my Grave tho hence remote Far as St. Michaels Mount I would go to 't Dwell there content and thank the Fates to boot Here want of Rest a nights more People kills Than all the College and the weekly Bills Where none have privilege to sleep but those Whose Purses can compound for their Repose In vain I go to bed or close my eyes Methinks the place the middle Region is Where I lie down in Storms in Thunder rise The restless Bells such Din in Steeples keep That scarce the Dead can in their Church-yards sleep Huzza's of Drunkards Bell-mens midnight-Rhimes The noise of Shops with Hawkers early Screams Besides the Brawls of Coach-men when they meet And stop in turnings of a narrow Street Such a loud Medly of confusion make As drowsie A r on the Bench would wake If you walk out in Bus'ness ne'r so great Ten thousand stops you must expect to meet Thick Crouds in every Place you must charge through And storm your Passage wheresoe'r you go While Tides of Followers behind you throng And pressing on your heels shove you along One with a Board or Rafter hits your Head Another with his Elbow bores your side Some tread upon your Corns perhaps in sport Mean while your Legs are cas'd all o're with Dirt. Here you the March of a slow Funeral wait Advancing to the Church with solemn State There a Sedan and Lacquies stop your way That bears some Punk of Honour to the Play Now you some mighty piece of Timber meet Which tott'ring threatens ruine to the Street Next a huge Portland Stone for building Pauls If self almost a Rock on Carriage rowls Which if it fall would cause a Massacre And serve at once to murder and interr If what I've said can't from the Town affright Consider other dangers of the Night When Brickbats are from upper Stories thrown And emptied Chamber pots come pouring down From Garret Windows you have cause to bless The gentle Stars if you come off with Piss So many Fates attend a man had need Ne'r walk without a Surgeon by his side And he can hardly now discreet be thought That does not make his Will ere he go out If this you scape twenty to one you meet Some of the drunken Scowrers of the Street Flush'd with success of warlike Deeds perform'd Of Constables subdu'd and Brothels storm'd These if a Quarrel or a Fray be mist Are ill at ease a nights and want their Rest. For mischief is a Lechery to some And serves to make them sleep like Laudanum Yet heated as they are with Youth and Wine If they diseern a Train of Flamboes shine If a Great Man with his gilt Coach appear And a strong Guard of Foot-boys in the rear The Rascals sneak and shrink their Heads for fear Poor me who use no Light to walk about Save what the Parish or the Skies hang out They value not 't is worth your while to hear The scuffle if that be a scuffle where Another gives the Blows I only bear He bids me stand of force I must give way For 't were a sensless thing to disobey And struggle here where I 'd as good oppose My self to P and his Mastiffs loose Who 's there he cries and takes you by the Throat Dog are you dumb Speak quickly else my Foot Shall march about your Buttocks whence d' ye come From what Bulk-ridden Strumpet reeking home Saving your reverend Pimpship where d' ye ply How may onè have a Job of Lechery If you say any thing or hold your peace And silently go off 't is all a case Still he lays on nay well if you scape so Perhaps he 'l clap an Action on you too Of Battery nor need he fear to meet A Jury to his turn shall do him right And bring him in large Damage for a Shooe Worn out besides the pains in kicking you A Poor Man must expect nought of redress But Patience his best way in such a case Is to be thankful for the Drubs and beg That they would mercifully spare one leg Or Arm unbroke and let him go away With Teeth enough to eat his Meat next day Nor is this all which you have cause to fear Oft we encounter midnight Padders here When the Exchanges and the Shops are close And the rich Tradesman in his Counting-house To view the Profits of the day withdraws Hither in flocks from Shooters-Hill they come To seek their Price and Booty nearer home Your Purse they cry 't is madness to resist Or strive with a cock'd Pistol at your Breast And these each day so strong and numerous grow The Town can scarce afford them Jail-room now Happy the times of the old Heptarchy Ere London knew so much of Villany Then fatal Carts through Holborn seldom went And Tyburn with few Pilgrims was content A less and single Prison then would do And serv'd the City and the County too These are the Reasons Sir which drive me hence To which I might add more would Time dispense To hold you longer but the Sun draws low The Coach is hard at hand and I must go Therefore dear Sir farewel and when the Town From better Company can spare you down To make the Country with your Presence blest Then visit your old Friend amongst the rest There I 'll find leisure to unlade my mind Of what Remarques I now must leave behind The Fruits of dear Experience which with these Improv'd will serve for
hints and notices And when you write again may be ofuse To furnish Satyr for your daring Muse. A Dithyrambick The Drunkards Speech in a Mask Written in Aug. 1677. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 I. YES you are mighty wise I warrant mighty wise With all your godly Tricks and Artifice Who think to chouse me of my dear and pleasant Vice Hence holy Sham in vain your fruitless Toil Go and some unexperienc'd Fop beguile To some raw ent'ring Sinner cant and Whine Who never knew the worth of Drunkenness and Wine I 've tried and prov'd and found it all Divine It is resolv'd I will drink on and die I 'll not one minute lose not I To hear your troublesom Divinity Fill me a top-full Glass I 'll drink it on the Knee Confusion to the next that spoils good Company II. That Gulp was worth a Soul like it it went And thorowout new Life and Vigour sent I feel it warm at once my Head and Heart I feel it all in all and all in every part Let the vile Slaves of Bus'ness toil and strive Who want the Leisure or the Wit to live While we Life's tedious journey shorter make And reap those Joys which they lack sense to take Thus live the Gods if ought above our selves there be They live so happy unconcern'd and free Like us they sit and with a careless Brow Laugh at the petty Jars of Humane kind below Like us they spend their Age in gentle Ease Like us they drink for what were all their Heav'n alas If sober and compell'd to want that Happiness III. Assist almighty Wine for thou alone hast Power And other I 'll invoke no more Assist while with just Praise I thee odore Aided by thee I dare thy worth rehearse In Flights above the common pitch of groveling Verse Thou art the Worlds great Soul that heav'nly Fire Which dost our dull half-kindled mass inspire We nothing gallant and above our selves produce Till thou do'st finish Man and Reinfuse Thou art the only source of all the world calls great Thou didst the Poets first and they the Gods create To thee their Rage their Heat their Flame they owe Thon runst half share with Art and Nature too They owe their Glory and Renown to thee Thou giv'st their Verse and them Eternity Great Alexander that big'st Word of Fame That fills her Throat and almost rends the same Whose Valour found the World too strait a Stage For his wide Victories and boundless Rage Got not Repute by War alone but thee He knew he ne'r could conquer by Sobriety And drunk as well as fought for universal Monarchy IV. Pox o' that lazy Claret how it stays Were it again to pass the Seas 'T would sooner be in Cargo here 'T is now a long East-India Voyage half a year ' Sdeath here 's a minute lost an Age I mean Slipt by and ne'r to be retriev'd again For pitty suffer not the precious Juyce to die Let us prevent our own and its Mortality Like it our Life with standing and Sobriety is pall'd And like it too when dead can never be recall'd Push on the Glass let it measure out each hour For every Sand an Health let 's pour Swift as the rowling Orbs above And let it too as regularly move Swift as Heav'ns drunken red-fac'd Traveller the Sun And never rest till his last Race be done Till time it self be all run out and we Have drunk our selves into Eternity V. Six in a hand begin we 'll drink it twice a piece A Health to all that love and honour Vice Six more as oft to the great Founder of the Vine A God he was I 'm sure or should have been The second Father of Mankind I meant He when the angry Pow'rs a Deluge sent When for their Crimes our sinful Race was drown'd The only bold and vent'rous man was found Who durst be drunk agen and with new Vice the World replant The mighty Patriarch 't was of blessed Memory Who scap'd in the great Wreck of all Mortality And stock'd the Globe afresh with a brave drinking Progeny In vain would spightful Nature us reclaim Who to small Drink our Isle thought fit to damn And set us out o' th' reach of Wine In hope strait Bounds could our vast Thirst confine He taught us first with Ships the Seas to roam Taught us from Forein Lands to fetch supply Rare Art that makes all the wide world our home Makes every Realm pay Tribute to our Luxury VI. Adieu poor tott'ring Reason tumble down This Glass shall all thy proud usurping Powers drown And Wit on thy cast Ruines shall erect her Throne Adieu thou fond Disturber of our Life That check'st our Joys with all our Pleasure art at strife I 've something brisker now to govern me A more exalted noble Faculty Above thy Logick and vain boasted Pedantry Inform me if you can ye reading Sots what 't is That guides th' unerring Deities They no base Reason to their Actions bring But move by some more high more heavenly thing And are without Deliberation wise Ev'n such is this at least 't is much the same For which dull Schoolmen never yet could find a name Call ye this madness damn that sober Fool 'T was sure some dull Philosopher some reas'ning Tool Who the reproachful Term did first devise And brought a scandal on the best of Vice Go ask me what 's the rage young Prophets feel When they with holy Frenzy reel Drunk with the Spirits of infus'd Divinity They rave and stagger and are mad like me VII Oh what an Ebb of Drink have we Bring us a Deluge fill us up the Sea Let the vast Ocean be our mighty Cup We 'll drink 't and all its Fishes too like Loaches up Bid the Canary Fleet land here we 'll pay The Fraight and Custom too defray Set every man a Ship and when the Store Is emptied let them strait dispatch and Sail for more 'T is gone and now have at the Rhine With all its petty Rivulets of Wine The Empire 's Forces with the Spanish well combine We 'll make their Drink too in confederacy joyn ' Ware France the next this Round Bourdeaux shall swallow Champagn Langon and Burgundy shall follow Quick let 's forestal Lorain We 'll starve his Army all their Quarters drain And without Treaty put an end to the Campagn Go set the Universe a tilt turn the Globe up Squeeze out the last the slow unwilling Drop A pox of empty Nature since the World 's drawa dry 'T is time we quit mortality 'T is time we now give out and die Lest we are plagu'd with Dulness and Sobriety Beset with Link boys we 'll in triumph go A Troop of stagg'ring Ghosts down to the Shades below Drunk we 'll march off and reel into the Tomb Natures convenient dark Retiring Room And there from Noiso remov'd and all tumultuous strife Sleep out the dull Fatigue and long Debauch of Life Tries to go off but tumbles