章节正文
And may my bounden gratitude become)
LOVELACE, I offer at thy honour'd tomb.
And though thy vertues many friends have bred
To love thee liveing, and lament thee dead,
In characters far better couch'd then these,
Mine will not blott thy fame, nor theirs encrease.
'Twas by thine own great merits rais'd so high,
That, maugre time and fate, it shall not dye.
Sic flevit.
Charles Cotton.
<108.1> These lines may be found, with some verbal variations,
in the poems of Charles Cotton, 1689, p. 481-2-3.
<108.2> This reading is adopted from Cotton's Poems, 1689, p. 482.
In LUCASTA we read NO DISTURBANCE.
UPON THE POSTHUME AND PRECIOUS POEMS
OF THE NOBLY EXTRACTED GENTLEMAN MR. R. L.<109.1>
The rose and<109.2> other fragrant flowers smell best,
When they are pluck'd and worn in hand or brest,
So this fair flow'r of vertue, this rare bud
Of wit, smells now as fresh as when he stood;
And in these Posthume-Poems lets us know,
He on<109.3> the banks of Helicon did grow.
The beauty of his soul did correspond
With his sweet out-side: nay, it went<109.4> beyond.
Lovelace, the minion<109.5> of the Thespian dames,
Apollo's darling, born with Enthean flames,
Which in his numbers wave and shine so clear,
As sparks refracted from<109.6> rich gemmes appear;
Such flames that may inspire, and atoms cast,
To make new poets not like him in hast.<109.7>
Jam. Howell.
<109.1> These lines, originally printed as above, were included
by Payne Fisher in his collection of Howell's Poems, 1663,
8vo., where they may be found at p. 126. Fisher altered the
superscription in his ill-edited book to "Upon the Posthume-POEMS
of Mr. Lovelace."
<109.2> WITH--Howell's Poems.
<109.3> THAT HE UPON--ibid.
<109.4> IF NOT GO BEYOND--ibid.
<109.5> Fr. MIGNON, darling.
<109.6> So in Howell's Poems. LUCASTA has IN.
<109.7> "Such sparks that with their atoms may inspire
The reader with a pure POETICK fire."
Howell's POEMS.
AN ELEGIE,
SACRED TO THE MEMORY OF MY LATE HONOURED FRIEND,
COLLONELL RICHARD LOVELACE.
Pardon (blest shade), that I thus crowd to be
'Mong those that sin unto thy memory,
And that I think unvalu'd reliques spread,
And am the first that pillages the dead;
Since who would be thy mourner as befits,
But an officious sacriledge commits.
How my tears strive to do thee fairer right,
And from the characters divide my sight.
Untill it (dimmer) a new torrent swells,
And what obscur'd it, falls my spectacles
Let the luxurious floods impulsive rise,
As they would not be wept, but weep the eyes,
The while earth melts, and we above it lye
But the weak bubbles of mortalitie;
Until our griefs are drawn up by the Sun,
And that (too) drop the exhalation.
How in thy dust we humble now our pride,
And bring thee a whole people mortifi'd!
For who expects not death, now thou art gone,
Shows his low folly, not religion.
Can the poetick heaven still hold on
The golden dance, when the first mover's gon?
And the snatch'd fires (which circularly hurl'd)
In their strong raptureglimmer to the world,
And not stupendiously rather rise
The tapers unto these solemnities?
Can the chords move in tune, when thou dost dye,
At once their universal harmony?
But where Apollo's harp (with murmur) laid,
Had to the stones a melody convey'd,
They by some pebble summon'd would reply
In loud results to every battery;
Thus do we come unto thy marble room,
To eccho from the musick of thy tombe.
May we dare speak thee dead, that wouldest be
In thy remove only not such as we?
No wonder, the advance is from us hid;
Earth could not lift thee higher then it did!
And thou, that didst grow up so ever nigh,
Art but now gone to immortality!
So near to where thou art, thou here didst dwell,
The change to thee is less perceptible.
Thy but unably-comprehending clay,
To what could not be circumscrib'd, gave way,
And the more spacious tennant to return,
Crack'd (in the two restrain'd estate) its urn.
That is but left to a successive trust;
The soul's first buried in his bodies dust.
Thou more thy self, now thou art less confin'd,
Art not concern'd in what is left behind;
While we sustain the losse that thou art gone,
Un-essenc'd in the separation;
And he that weeps thy funerall, in one
Is pious to the widdow'd nation.
And under what (now) covert must I sing,
Secure as if beneath a cherub's wing;
When thou hast tane thy flight hence, and art nigh
In place to some related hierarchie,
Where a bright wreath of glories doth but set
Upon thy head an equal coronet;
And thou, above our humbleconverse gon,
Canst but be reach'd by contemplation.
Our lutes (as thine was touch'd) were vocall by,
And thence receiv'd the soul by sympathy,
That did above the threds inspiring creep,
And with soft whispers broke the am'rous sleep;
Which now no more (mov'd with the sweet surprise)
Awake into delicious rapsodies;
But with their silent mistress do comply,
And fast in undisturbed slumbers lye.
How from thy first ascent thou didst disperse
A blushing warmth throughout the universe,
While near the morns Lucasta's fires did glow,
And to the earth a purer dawn did throw.
We ever saw thee in the roll of fame
Advancing thy already deathless name;
And though it could but be above its fate,
Thou would'st, however, super-errogate.
Now as in Venice, when the wanton State
Before a Spaniard spread their crowded plate,
He made it the sage business of his eye
To find the root of the wild treasury;
So learn't from that exchequer but the more
To rate his masters vegetable ore.
Thus when the Greek and Latin muse we read,
As but the<110.1> cold inscriptions of the dead,
We to advantage then admired thee,
Who did'st live on still with thy poesie;
And in our proud enjoyments never knew
The end of the unrulywealth that grew.
But now we have the last dear ingots gain'd,
And the free vein (however rich) is drein'd;
Though what thou hast bequeathed us, no space
Of this worlds span of time shall ere embrace.
But as who sometimes knew not to conclude
Upon the waters strange vicissitude,
Did to the ocean himself commit,
That it might comprehend what could not it,
So we in our endeavours must out-done
Be swallowed up within thy Helicon.
Thou, who<110.2> art layd up in thy precious cave,
And from the hollow spaces of thy grave,
We still may mourn in tune, but must alone
Hereafter hope to quaver out a grone;
No more the chirping sonnets with shrill notes
Must henceforthvolley from our treble throtes;
But each sad accent must be humour'd well
To the deep solemn organ of thy cell.
Why should some rude hand carve thy sacred stone,
And there incise a cheap inscription?
When we can shed the tribute of our tears
So long, till the relenting marble wears;
Which shall such order in their cadence keep,
That they a native epitaph shall weep;
Untill each letter spelt distinctly lyes,
Cut by the mystick droppings of our eyes.
El. Revett.<110.3>
<110.1> Original has THE BUT.
<110.2> Original has OW.
<110.3> I have already pointed out, that the author of these
truly wretched lines was probably the same person, on whose
MORAL AND DIVINE POEMS Lovelace has some verses in the LUCASTA.
The poems of E. R. appear to be lost, which, unless they were
far superior to the present specimen, cannot be regarded as
a great calamity.
AN ELEGIE.
Me thinks, when kings, prophets, and poets dye,
We should not bid men weep, nor ask them why,
But the great loss should by instinct impair
The nations, like a pestilential ayr,
And in a moment men should feel the cramp
Of grief, like persons poyson'd with a damp.
All things in nature should their death deplore,
And the sun look less lovely than before;
The fixed stars should change their constant spaces,
And comets cast abroad their flagrant<111.1> faces.
Yet still we see princes and poets fall
Without their proper pomp of funerall;
Men look about, as if they nere had known
The poets lawrell or the princes crown;
Lovelace hath long been dead, and he<111.2> can be
Oblig'd to no man for an elegie.
Are you all turn'd to silence, or did he
Retain the only sap of poesie,
That kept all branches living? must his fall
Set an eternal period upon all?
So when a spring-tide doth begin to fly<111.3>
From the green shoar, each neighbouring creek grows dry.
But why do I so pettishly detract
An age that is so perfect, so exact?
In all things excellent, it is a fame
Or glory to deceased Lovelace name:
For he is weak in wit, who doth deprave
Anothers worth to make his own seem brave;
LOVELACE, I offer at thy honour'd tomb.
And though thy vertues many friends have bred
To love thee liveing, and lament thee dead,
In characters far better couch'd then these,
Mine will not blott thy fame, nor theirs encrease.
'Twas by thine own great merits rais'd so high,
That, maugre time and fate, it shall not dye.
Sic flevit.
Charles Cotton.
<108.1> These lines may be found, with some verbal variations,
in the poems of Charles Cotton, 1689, p. 481-2-3.
<108.2> This reading is adopted from Cotton's Poems, 1689, p. 482.
In LUCASTA we read NO DISTURBANCE.
UPON THE POSTHUME AND PRECIOUS POEMS
OF THE NOBLY EXTRACTED GENTLEMAN MR. R. L.<109.1>
The rose and<109.2> other fragrant flowers smell best,
When they are pluck'd and worn in hand or brest,
So this fair flow'r of vertue, this rare bud
Of wit, smells now as fresh as when he stood;
And in these Posthume-Poems lets us know,
He on<109.3> the banks of Helicon did grow.
The beauty of his soul did correspond
With his sweet out-side: nay, it went<109.4> beyond.
Lovelace, the minion<109.5> of the Thespian dames,
Apollo's darling, born with Enthean flames,
Which in his numbers wave and shine so clear,
As sparks refracted from<109.6> rich gemmes appear;
Such flames that may inspire, and atoms cast,
To make new poets not like him in hast.<109.7>
Jam. Howell.
<109.1> These lines, originally printed as above, were included
by Payne Fisher in his collection of Howell's Poems, 1663,
8vo., where they may be found at p. 126. Fisher altered the
superscription in his ill-edited book to "Upon the Posthume-POEMS
of Mr. Lovelace."
<109.2> WITH--Howell's Poems.
<109.3> THAT HE UPON--ibid.
<109.4> IF NOT GO BEYOND--ibid.
<109.5> Fr. MIGNON, darling.
<109.6> So in Howell's Poems. LUCASTA has IN.
<109.7> "Such sparks that with their atoms may inspire
The reader with a pure POETICK fire."
Howell's POEMS.
AN ELEGIE,
SACRED TO THE MEMORY OF MY LATE HONOURED FRIEND,
COLLONELL RICHARD LOVELACE.
Pardon (blest shade), that I thus crowd to be
'Mong those that sin unto thy memory,
And that I think unvalu'd reliques spread,
And am the first that pillages the dead;
Since who would be thy mourner as befits,
But an officious sacriledge commits.
How my tears strive to do thee fairer right,
And from the characters divide my sight.
Untill it (dimmer) a new torrent swells,
And what obscur'd it, falls my spectacles
Let the luxurious floods impulsive rise,
As they would not be wept, but weep the eyes,
The while earth melts, and we above it lye
But the weak bubbles of mortalitie;
Until our griefs are drawn up by the Sun,
And that (too) drop the exhalation.
How in thy dust we humble now our pride,
And bring thee a whole people mortifi'd!
For who expects not death, now thou art gone,
Shows his low folly, not religion.
Can the poetick heaven still hold on
The golden dance, when the first mover's gon?
And the snatch'd fires (which circularly hurl'd)
In their strong raptureglimmer to the world,
And not stupendiously rather rise
The tapers unto these solemnities?
Can the chords move in tune, when thou dost dye,
At once their universal harmony?
But where Apollo's harp (with murmur) laid,
Had to the stones a melody convey'd,
They by some pebble summon'd would reply
In loud results to every battery;
Thus do we come unto thy marble room,
To eccho from the musick of thy tombe.
May we dare speak thee dead, that wouldest be
In thy remove only not such as we?
No wonder, the advance is from us hid;
Earth could not lift thee higher then it did!
And thou, that didst grow up so ever nigh,
Art but now gone to immortality!
So near to where thou art, thou here didst dwell,
The change to thee is less perceptible.
Thy but unably-comprehending clay,
To what could not be circumscrib'd, gave way,
And the more spacious tennant to return,
Crack'd (in the two restrain'd estate) its urn.
That is but left to a successive trust;
The soul's first buried in his bodies dust.
Thou more thy self, now thou art less confin'd,
Art not concern'd in what is left behind;
While we sustain the losse that thou art gone,
Un-essenc'd in the separation;
And he that weeps thy funerall, in one
Is pious to the widdow'd nation.
And under what (now) covert must I sing,
Secure as if beneath a cherub's wing;
When thou hast tane thy flight hence, and art nigh
In place to some related hierarchie,
Where a bright wreath of glories doth but set
Upon thy head an equal coronet;
And thou, above our humbleconverse gon,
Canst but be reach'd by contemplation.
Our lutes (as thine was touch'd) were vocall by,
And thence receiv'd the soul by sympathy,
That did above the threds inspiring creep,
And with soft whispers broke the am'rous sleep;
Which now no more (mov'd with the sweet surprise)
Awake into delicious rapsodies;
But with their silent mistress do comply,
And fast in undisturbed slumbers lye.
How from thy first ascent thou didst disperse
A blushing warmth throughout the universe,
While near the morns Lucasta's fires did glow,
And to the earth a purer dawn did throw.
We ever saw thee in the roll of fame
Advancing thy already deathless name;
And though it could but be above its fate,
Thou would'st, however, super-errogate.
Now as in Venice, when the wanton State
Before a Spaniard spread their crowded plate,
He made it the sage business of his eye
To find the root of the wild treasury;
So learn't from that exchequer but the more
To rate his masters vegetable ore.
Thus when the Greek and Latin muse we read,
As but the<110.1> cold inscriptions of the dead,
We to advantage then admired thee,
Who did'st live on still with thy poesie;
And in our proud enjoyments never knew
The end of the unrulywealth that grew.
But now we have the last dear ingots gain'd,
And the free vein (however rich) is drein'd;
Though what thou hast bequeathed us, no space
Of this worlds span of time shall ere embrace.
But as who sometimes knew not to conclude
Upon the waters strange vicissitude,
Did to the ocean himself commit,
That it might comprehend what could not it,
So we in our endeavours must out-done
Be swallowed up within thy Helicon.
Thou, who<110.2> art layd up in thy precious cave,
And from the hollow spaces of thy grave,
We still may mourn in tune, but must alone
Hereafter hope to quaver out a grone;
No more the chirping sonnets with shrill notes
Must henceforthvolley from our treble throtes;
But each sad accent must be humour'd well
To the deep solemn organ of thy cell.
Why should some rude hand carve thy sacred stone,
And there incise a cheap inscription?
When we can shed the tribute of our tears
So long, till the relenting marble wears;
Which shall such order in their cadence keep,
That they a native epitaph shall weep;
Untill each letter spelt distinctly lyes,
Cut by the mystick droppings of our eyes.
El. Revett.<110.3>
<110.1> Original has THE BUT.
<110.2> Original has OW.
<110.3> I have already pointed out, that the author of these
truly wretched lines was probably the same person, on whose
MORAL AND DIVINE POEMS Lovelace has some verses in the LUCASTA.
The poems of E. R. appear to be lost, which, unless they were
far superior to the present specimen, cannot be regarded as
a great calamity.
AN ELEGIE.
Me thinks, when kings, prophets, and poets dye,
We should not bid men weep, nor ask them why,
But the great loss should by instinct impair
The nations, like a pestilential ayr,
And in a moment men should feel the cramp
Of grief, like persons poyson'd with a damp.
All things in nature should their death deplore,
And the sun look less lovely than before;
The fixed stars should change their constant spaces,
And comets cast abroad their flagrant<111.1> faces.
Yet still we see princes and poets fall
Without their proper pomp of funerall;
Men look about, as if they nere had known
The poets lawrell or the princes crown;
Lovelace hath long been dead, and he<111.2> can be
Oblig'd to no man for an elegie.
Are you all turn'd to silence, or did he
Retain the only sap of poesie,
That kept all branches living? must his fall
Set an eternal period upon all?
So when a spring-tide doth begin to fly<111.3>
From the green shoar, each neighbouring creek grows dry.
But why do I so pettishly detract
An age that is so perfect, so exact?
In all things excellent, it is a fame
Or glory to deceased Lovelace name:
For he is weak in wit, who doth deprave
Anothers worth to make his own seem brave;
- gratitude [´grætitju:d]
n.感激，感谢 (初中英语单词) - reading [´ri:diŋ] n.(阅)读；朗读；读物 (初中英语单词)
- darling [´dɑ:liŋ] n.爱人 a.亲爱的 (初中英语单词)
- inspire [in´spaiə] v.鼓舞；使感悟；吸入 (初中英语单词)
- collection [kə´lekʃən] n.收集；征收；募捐 (初中英语单词)
- humble [´hʌmbəl] a.谦卑的 vt.贬抑 (初中英语单词)
- universal [,ju:ni´və:səl] a.宇宙的；普遍的 (初中英语单词)
- marble [´mɑ:bəl] n.大理石 a.大理石的 (初中英语单词)
- sustain [sə´stein] vt.支撑；蒙受；确认 (初中英语单词)
- flight [flait] n.逃走；飞行；班机 (初中英语单词)
- wreath [ri:θ] n.花圈；花环；圈状物 (初中英语单词)
- thence [ðens] ad.从那里；因此 (初中英语单词)
- delicious [di´liʃəs] a.美味的，可口的 (初中英语单词)
- mistress [´mistris] n.女主人；情妇；女能手 (初中英语单词)
- warmth [wɔ:mθ] n.温暖；热情；激动 (初中英语单词)
- spaniard [´spænjəd] n.西班牙人 (初中英语单词)
- vegetable [´vedʒtəbəl] a.&n.蔬菜(的)；植物 (初中英语单词)
- advantage [əd´vɑ:ntidʒ] n.优势；利益 (初中英语单词)
- wealth [welθ] n.财富，财产 (初中英语单词)
- henceforth [´hens´fɔ:θ] ad.今后；从今以后 (初中英语单词)
- accent [´æksənt, æk´sent] n.重音；口音 vt.重读 (初中英语单词)
- solemn [´sɔləm] a.严肃的；隆重的 (初中英语单词)
- sacred [´seikrid] a.神圣的；庄严的 (初中英语单词)
- tribute [´tribju:t] n.贡物；献礼；颂词 (初中英语单词)
- distinctly [di´stiŋktli] ad.清楚地，明晰地 (初中英语单词)
- pointed [´pɔintid] a.尖(锐)的；中肯的 (初中英语单词)
- wretched [´retʃid] a.可怜的；倒霉的 (初中英语单词)
- divine [di´vain] a.神圣的 v.预言 (初中英语单词)
- instinct [´instiŋkt] n.本能；直觉；天资 (初中英语单词)
- constant [´kɔnstənt] a.坚定的；坚贞的 (初中英语单词)
- abroad [ə´brɔ:d] ad.海外；到处；广泛 (初中英语单词)
- eternal [i´tə:nəl] a.永远的；永恒的 (初中英语单词)
- lament [lə´ment] v.哀悼 n.哀悼；恸哭 (高中英语单词)
- theirs [ðeəz] pron.他们的 (高中英语单词)
- fragrant [´freigrənt] a.芳香的，芬芳的 (高中英语单词)
- originally [ə´ridʒənəli] ad.本来；独创地 (高中英语单词)
- strive [straiv] vi.争取；努力；奋斗 (高中英语单词)
- torrent [´tɔrənt] n.奔流，激流，洪流；迸发 (高中英语单词)
- rapture [´ræptʃə] n.着迷；全神贯注 (高中英语单词)
- melody [´melədi] n.悦耳的音调；乐曲 (高中英语单词)
- pebble [´pebəl] n.卵石 v.(用卵石)铺 (高中英语单词)
- spacious [´speiʃəs] a.广阔的，宽敞的 (高中英语单词)
- successive [sək´sesiv] a.相继的；接连的 (高中英语单词)
- related [ri´leitid] a.叙述的；有联系的 (高中英语单词)
- converse [´kɔnvə:s] n.交谈 a.相反的 (高中英语单词)
- ascent [ə´sent] n.上升；攀登；上坡路 (高中英语单词)
- venice [´venis] n.威尼斯 (高中英语单词)
- crowded [´kraudid] a.充(拥)满了的 (高中英语单词)
- comprehend [,kɔmpri´hend] vt.了解；领会；包含 (高中英语单词)
- shrill [ʃril] a.(声音)尖锐的 (高中英语单词)
- specimen [´spesimən] n.标本，样品；抽样 (高中英语单词)
- fisher [´fiʃə] n.捕鱼人(船)；鱼貂 (英语四级单词)
- luxurious [lʌg´zjuəriəs] a.奢侈的；豪华的 (英语四级单词)
- glimmer [´glimə] n.&vi.闪光 (英语四级单词)
- undisturbed [,ʌndis´tə:bd] a.未受干扰的；镇静的 (英语四级单词)
- wanton [´wɔntən, ´wɑ:n-] a.顽皮的 n.&vi.荡妇 (英语四级单词)
- volley [´vɔli] n.&v.齐射；(话)迸发 (英语四级单词)
- cadence [´keidəns] n.抑扬；节奏；韵律 (英语四级单词)
- verbal [´və:bəl] a.文字上的；口头的 (英语六级单词)
- mourner [´mɔ:nə] n.悲叹的人；哀悼者 (英语六级单词)
- impulsive [im´pʌlsiv] a.易冲动的 (英语六级单词)
- covert [kʌvət] a.隐藏的 n.隐藏处 (英语六级单词)
- exchequer [iks´tʃekə] n.资金；(个人)财力 (英语六级单词)
- unruly [ʌn´ru:li] a.不守规则的 (英语六级单词)
- treble [´trebəl] a.&n.三倍(重)的 (英语六级单词)
- epitaph [´epitɑ:f] n.墓志铭 (英语六级单词)
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章节正文
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