תמונות בעמוד

Then let me see great Venus chase
Imperious anger from thy face;
Then let me hear thee smiling say,
Thou, my dear, wert born to-day.


NoBLEs and heralds, by your leave,

Here lies what once was Matthew Prior;
The son of Adam and of Eve,
Can Bourbon or Nassau go higher?


1 As doctors give physic by way of prevention, Mat, alive, and in health, of his tombstone took care; For delays are unsafe, and his pious intention May haply be never fulfilled by his heir.

2 Then take Mat's word for it, the sculptor is paid,
That the figure is fine, pray believe your own eye;
Yet credit but lightly what more may be said,
For we flatter ourselves, and teach marble to lie.

1 Under the title “Borrowed Thoughts,' Mr J. W. Singer gives the following lines written by Jno. Carnegie, as the prototype of Prior's Epitaph:Johnnie Carnegie lais heere Descendit of Adam and Eve Glf ony con gang hieher I’se willing gie him leve. Mr Bluecowe, Vol. x., p. 216, N and 0, gives the following quotation from a correspondent of the Antiquarian Repertory, 1784:— “I lately met with the following very ancient epitaph upon a tombstone in Scotland, and it is undoubtedly that from which Mr Prior borrowed those well known lines intended for his own monument:— John Carnagie lies here Descended from Adam and Eve If any can boast of a pedigree higher He will willingly give them leave.”

3 Yet, counting as far as to fifty his years, His virtues and vices were as other men's are; High hopes he conceived, and he smothered great fears, In life party-coloured, half pleasure, half care.

4 Nor to business a drudge, nor to faction a slave,
He strove to make interest and freedom agree:
In public employments industrious and grave,
And alone with his friends, lord, how merry was he'

5 Now in equipage stately, now humbly on foot, Both fortunes he tried, but to neither would trust: And whirled in the round, as the wheel turned about, He found riches had wings, and knew man was but dust.

6 This verse little polished, though mighty sincere,
Sets neither his titles nor merit to view;
It says that his relics collected lie here,
And no mortal yet knows too if this may be true.

7 Fierce robbers there are that infest the highway, So Mat may be killed, and his bones never found; False witness at court, and fierce tempests at sea,

So Mat may yet chance to be hanged, or be drowned.

8 If his bones lie on earth, roll in sea, fly in air,
To fate we must yield, and the thing is the same;
And if passing thou giv'st him a smile or a tear,
He cares not—yet prythee be kind to his fame.


It oft to many has successful been,
Upon his arm to let his mistress lean;
Or with her airy fan to cool her heat,
Or gently squeeze her knees, or press her feet.
All public sports, to favour young desire,
With opportunities like this conspire.
Even where his skill the gladiator shows,
With human blood where the arena flows;
There oftentimes love's quiver-bearing boy
Prepares his bow and arrows to destroy. 10
While the spectator gazes on the fight,
And sees them wound each other with delight;
While he his pretty mistress entertains,
And wagers with her who the conquest gains;
Slily the god takes aim, and hits his heart,
And in the wounds he sees he bears his part.



BEHIND an unfrequented glade,
Where yew and myrtle mix their shade,
A widowed turtle pensive sat,
And wept her murdered lover's fate.
The sparrow chanced that way to walk
(A bird that loves to chirp and talk);
Be sure he did the turtle greet;
She answered him as she thought meet.
Sparrows and turtles, by the bye,
Can think as well as you or I; 10
But how they did their thoughts express, 1.
The margin shows by T. and S.
T. My hopes are lost, my joys are fled,
Alas! I weep Columbo dead;
Come, all ye winged lovers, come,
Drop pinks and daisies on his tomb;
Sing, Philomel, his funeral verse,
Ye pious redbreasts, deck his hearse;
Fair swans, extend your dying throats,
Columbo's death requires your notes: - G
‘For him, my friends, for him I moan,
My dear Columbo, dead and gone.’
Stretched on the bier Columbo lies,
Pale are his cheeks, and closed his eyes;
Those cheeks, where beauty smiling lay;
Those eyes, where love was used to play.
Ah! cruel Fate, alas! how soon
That beauty and those joys are flown!
Columbo is no more; ye floods,
Bear the sad sound to distant woods; 30
The sound let echo's voice restore,
And say, Columbo is no more,
‘Ye floods, ye woods, ye echoes, moan,
My dear Columbo, dead and gone.’
The dryads all forsook the wood,
And mournful naiads round me stood;
The tripping fawns and fairies came,
All conscious of our mutual flame:
“To sigh for him, with me to moan
My dear Columbo, dead and gone.’ 40
Venus disdained not to appear,
To lend my grief a friendly ear;
But what avails her kindness now,
She ne'er shall hear my second vow.


The loves, that round their mother flew, 45
Did in her face her sorrows view;
Their drooping wings they pensive hung,
Their arrows broke, their bows unstrung;
They heard attentive what I said,
And wept, with me, Columbo dead: 50
“For him I sigh, for him I moan,
My dear Columbo, dead and gone.’
‘'Tis ours to weep, great Venus said;
‘'Tis Jove's alone to be obeyed:
Nor birds nor goddesses can move
The just behests of fatal Jove.
I saw thy mate with sad regret,
And cursed the fowler's cruel net.
Ah, dear Columbo! how he fell,
Whom Turturella loved so well! 60
I saw him bleeding on the ground,
The sight tore up my ancient wound;
And, whilst you wept, alas! I cried,
Columbo and Adonis died.’
‘Weep all ye streams; ye mountains, groan,
I mourn Columbo, dead and gone;
Still let my tender grief complain,
Nor day nor night that grief restrain:
I said; and Venus still replied,
‘Columbo and Adonis died.’ 70
S. Poor Turturella, hard thy case,
And just thy tears, alas, alas!
T. And hast thou loved; and canst thou hear
With piteous heart a lover's care:
Come then, with me thy sorrows join,
And ease my woes by telling thine: o
For thou, poor bird, perhaps mayst moan
Some Passerella dead and gone.

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