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第48章

lucasta-第48章

小说: lucasta 字数: 每页4000字

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is weak in wit; who doth deprave Anothers worth to make his own seem brave; And this was not his aim: nor is it mine。 I now conceive the scope of their designe; Which is with one consent to bring and burn Contributary incence on his urn; Where each mans love and fancy shall be try'd; As when great Johnson or brave Shakespear dyed。 Wits must unite: for ignorance; we see; Hath got a great train of artillerie: Yet neither shall nor can it blast the fame And honour of deceased Lovelace name; Whose own LUCASTA can support his credit Amongst all such who knowingly have read it; But who that praise can by desert discusse Due to those poems that are posthumous? And if the last conceptions are the best; Those by degrees do much transcend the rest; So full; so fluent; that they richly sute With Orpheus lire; or with Anacreons lute; And he shall melt his wing; that shall aspire To reach a fancy or one accent higher。 Holland and France have known his nobler parts; And found him excellent in arms and arts。 To sum up all; few men of fame but know; He was TAM MARTI; QUAM MERCURIO。

 Burning。

 Original has WE。

 A fine image!

 The motto originally employed by George Gascoigne; who; like Lovelace; wielded both the sword and the pen。



                 TO HIS   NOBLE FRIEND CAPT。 DUDLEY LOVELACE UPON HIS EDITION OF HIS BROTHERS POEMS。

  Thy pious hand; planting fraternal bayes; Deserving is of most egregious praise; Since 'tis the organ doth to us convey From a descended sun so bright a ray。 Clear spirit! how much we are bound to thee For this so great a liberalitie; The truer worth of which by much exceeds The western wealth; which such contention breeds! Like the Infusing…God; from the well…head Of poesie you have besprinkled Our brows with holy drops; the very last; Which from your Brother's happy pen were cast: Yet as the last; the best; such matchlesse skill From his divine alembick did distill。 Your honour'd Brother in the Elyzian shade Will joy to know himself a laureat made By your religious care; and that his urn Doth him on earth immortal life return。 Your self you have a good physician shown To his much grieved friends and to your own; In giving this elixir'd medecine; For greatest grief a soveraign anodine。   Sir; from your Brother y' have convey'd us bliss; Now; since your genius so concurs with his; Let your own quill our next enjoyments frame; All must be rich; that's grac'd with Lovelace name。                Symon Ognell M。D。 Coningbrens。

 This person is not mentioned in Munk's Roll of the Royal College of Physicians; 1861。



                       ON THE       TRULY HONOURABLE COLL。 RICHARD LOVELACE; OCCASIONED BY THE PUBLICATION OF HIS POSTHUME…POEMS。

                       ELEGIE。

Great son of Mars; and of Minerva too! With what oblations must we come to woo Thy sacred soul to look down from above; And see how much thy memory we love; Whose happy pen so pleased amorous ears; And; lifting bright LUCASTA to the sphears; Her in the star…bespangled orb did set Above fair Ariadnes coronet; Leaving a pattern to succeeding wits; By which to sing forth their Pythonick fits。 Shall we bring tears and sighs? no; no! then we Should but bemone our selves for loosing thee; Or else thy happiness seem to deny; Or to repine at thy felicity。 Then; whilst we chant out thine immortal praise; Our offerings shall be onely sprigs of bays; And if our tears will needs their brinks out…fly; We'l weep them forth into an elegy; To tell the world; how deep fates wounded wit; When Atropos the lovely Lovelace hit! How th' active fire; which cloath'd thy gen'rous mind; Consum'd the water; and the earth calcin'd Untill a stronger heat by death was given; Which sublimated thy poor soul to heaven。 Thou knew'st right well to guide the warlike steed; And yet could'st court the Muses with full speed And such success; that the inspiring Nine Have fill'd their Thespian fountain so with brine。 Henceforth we can expect no lyrick lay; But biting satyres through the world must stray。 Bellona joyns with fair Erato too; And with the Destinies do keep adoe; Whom thus she queries: could not you awhile Reprieve his life; until another file Of poems such as these had been drawn up? The fates reply'd that thou wert taken up; A sacrifice unto the deities; Since things most perfect please their holy eyes; And that no other victim could be found With so much learning and true virtue crown'd。 Since it is so; in peace for ever rest; Tis very just that God should have the best。                     Sym。 Ognell M。D。 Coningbrens。



                ON MY BROTHER。

Lovelace is dead! then let the world return To its first chaos; mufled in its urn; The stars and elements together lye; Drench'd in perpetual obscurity; And the whole machine in confusion be; As immethodick as an anarchie。 May the great eye of day weep out his light; Pale Cynthia leave the regiment of night; The galaxia; all in sables dight; Send forth no corruscations to our sight; The Sister…Graces and the sacred Nine; Statu'd with grief; attend upon his shrine; Whose worth; whose loss; should we but truly rate; 'Twould puzzle our arithmetic to state Th' accompt of vertu's so transcendent high; Number and value reach infinity。 Did I pronounce him dead! no; no! he lives; And from his aromatique cell he gives Spice…breathed fumes; whose odoriferous scent (In zephre…gales which never can be spent) Doth spread it self abroad; and much out…vies The eastern bird in her self…sacrifice; Or Father Phoebus; who to th' world derives Such various and such multiformed lives; Took notice that brave Lovelace did inspire The universe with his Promethean fire; And snatcht him hence; before his thread was spun; En'ving that here should be another Sun。     T。 L。

 Thomas Lovelace; one of the poet's brothers。



  ON THE DEATH OF MY DEAR BROTHER。

             EPITAPH。

Tread (reader) gently; gently ore The happy dust beneath this floor: For in this narrow vault is set An alablaster cabinet; Wherein both arts and arms were put; Like Homers Iliads in a nut; Till Death with slow and easie pace Snatcht the bright jewell from the case; And now; transform'd; he doth arise A constellation in the skies; Teaching the blinded world the way; Through night; to startle into day: And shipwrackt shades; with steady hand; He steers unto th' Elizian land。                Dudley Posthumus…Lovelace。



               THE END。



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