MY dear, was born to-day,
So all my jolly comrades fay;
They bring me mufic, wreaths, and mirth, And ask to celebrate my birth: Little, alas! my comrades know That I was born to pain and woe; Better I had ne'er been born: I wish to die ev'n whilst I say, I, my dear, was born to-day.
I, my dear, was born to-day; Shall I falute the rifing ray? 'Well-fpring of all my joy and woe, Clotilda,* thou alone doft know: 'Shall the wreath furround my hair? Or fhall the mufic please my ear? Shall I my comrades mirth receive, And bless my birth, and wish to live? Then let me fee great Venus chase Imperious anger from thy face; Then let me hear thee fmiling fay, Thou, my dear, wert born to-day.
NOBLES and heralds, by your leave,
Here lies what once was Matthew Prior,
The fon of Adam and of Eve;
Can Bourbon or Naffau claim higher?
To me 'twas given to die: to thee 'tis given
To live: alas! one moment fets us even. Mark! how impartial is the will of Heaven!
S doctors give phyfic by way of prevention, Mat, alive and in health, of his tombstone took
For delays are unfafe, and his pious intention May haply be never fulfill'd by his heir.
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 faid, For we flatter ourselves, and teach marble to lie.
Yet, counting as far as to fifty his years,
His virtues and vices were as other men's are; High hopes he conceiv'd, and he fmother'd great fears, In a life party-colour'd, half pleasure, half care.
Nor to business a drudge, nor to faction a slave, He ftrove to make interest and freedom agree; In public employments industrious and grave, And alone with his friends, lord, how merry was he!
Now in equipage stately, now humbly on foot,
Both fortunes he try'd, but to neither would trust; And whirl'd in the round, as the wheel turn'd about, He found riches had wings, and knew man was but
This verfe little polifh'd, though mighty fincere,
Sets neither his titles nor merit to view;
It fays that his relics collected lie here,
And no mortal yet knows too if this may be true.
Fierce robbers there are that infeft the highway, So Mat may be kill'd, and his bones never found; False witness at court, and fierce tempests at sea, So Mat may yet chance to be hang'd, or be drown'd.
If his bones lie in earth, roll in feà, fly in air, To fate we must yield, and the thing is the fame. And if paffing thou giv'ft him a smile, or a tear, He cares not-yet pr'ythee be kind to his fame.
GUALTERUS DANISTONUS AD AMICOS.
UM ftudeo fungi fallentis munere vitæ, Adfectoque viam fedibus Elyfiis,
Aretoa florens fophiâ, Samifque fuperbus Difcipulis, animas morte carere cano. Has ego corporibus profugas ad fidera mitto; Sideraque ingreffis otia blanda dico; Qualia conveniunt Divis, queis fata volebant Vitäi faciles molliter ire vias:
Vinaque Cœlicolis media inter gaudia libo; Et me quid majus fufpicor effe viro. Sed fuerint nulli forfan, quos fpondeo, cœli; Nullaque fint Ditis numina, nulla Jovis : Fabula fit terris agitur quæ vita relictis; Quique fuperftes, Homo; qui nihil, efto Deus.
Attamen effe hilares, & inanes mittere curas
Proderit, ac vitæ commoditate frui, Et feftos agitâffe dies, ævique fugacis Tempora perpetuis detinuiffe jocis.
His me parentem præceptis occupet Orcus, Et Mors; feu Divum, feu nihil, effe velit : Nam fophia ars illa eft, quæ fallere fuaviter horas Admonet, atque Orci non timuiffe minas.
STUDIOUS the busy moments to deceive, That fleet between the cradle and the grave, I credit what the Grecian dictates fay, And Samian founds o'er Scotia's hills convey. When mortal man resigns his tranfient breath, The body only I give o'er to death; The parts diffolv'd and broken frame I mourn: What came from earth I fee to earth return. The immaterial part, th' æthereal foul, Nor can change vanquish, nor can death control. Glad I release it from its partner's cares, And bid good angels waft it to the stars. Then in the flowing bowl I drown thofe fighs, Which, fpite of wisdom, from our weakness rife. The draught to the dead's memory I commend, And offer to thee now, immortal friend. But if, oppos'd to what my thoughts approve, Nor Pluto's rage there be, nor power of Jove;
« הקודםהמשך » |