but he appears afterwards to have changed his mind, for, in the verses on the government of Cromwell, he inserts them liberally with great happiness.

After so much criticism on his Poems, the Essays which accompany them must not be forgotten. What is said by Sprat of his conversation, that no man could draw from it any suspicion of his excellence in poetry, may be applied to these compositions. No author ever kept his verse and his prose at a greater distance from each other. His thoughts are natural, and his style has a smooth and placid equability, which has never yet obtained its due commendation. Nothing is far-sought, or hard-laboured; but all is easy without feebleness, and familiar without grossness.

It has been observed by Felton, in his Essay on the Classics, that Cowley was beloved by every Muse that he courted; and that he has rivalled the Ancients in every kind of poetry but tragedy.

It may be affirmed, without any encomiastic fervour, that he brought to his poetic labours a mind replete with learning, and that his pages are embellished with all the ornaments which books could supply; that he was the first who imparted to English numbers the enthusiasm of the greater ode, and the gaiety of the less; that he was equally qualified for sprightly sallies, and for lofty flights; that he was among those who freed translation from servility, and, instead of following his author at a distance, walked by his side; and that, if he left versification yet improveable, he left likewise, from time to time, such specimens of excellence as enabled succeeding poets to improve it.

ELEGIA DEDICATORIA,

AD

ILLUSTRISSIMAM ACADEMIAM

CANTABRIGIENSEM.

Hoc tibi de nato, ditissima mater, egeno
Exiguum immensi pignus amoris habe.
Heu, meliora tibi depromere dona volentes
Astringit gratas parcior arca manus.
Túne tui poteris vocem hìc agnoscere nati
Tam malè formatam, dissimilemque tuæ !
Túne hìc materni vestigia sacra decoris,

Tu speculum poteris hìc reperire tuum?
Post longum, dices, Coulei, sic mihi tempus?
Sic mihi speranti, perfide, multa redis?
Quæ, dices, Saga Lemurésque Deæque, nocentes,
Hunc mihi in infantis supposuêre loco?
At tu, sancta parens, crudelis tu quoque, nati
Ne tractes dextrâ vulnera cruda rudi.

Hei mihi, quid fato genetrix accedis iniquo?
Sit sors, sed non sis, ipsa, noverca mihi.
Si mihi natali Musarum adolescere in arvo.
Si benè dilecto luxuriare solo,

Si mihi de doctâ licuisset pleniùs undâ
Haurire, ingentem si satiare sitim,
Non ego degeneri dubitabilis ore redirem,
Nec legeres nomen fusa rubore meum.
Scis benè, scis quæ me tempestas publica mundi
Raptatrix vestro sustulit è gremio,

Nec pede adhuc firmo, nec firmo dente, negati
Poscentem querulo murmure lactis opem.
Sic quondam, aërium vento bellante per æquor,
Cum gravidum autumnum sæva flagellat hyems,
Immatura suâ velluntur ab arbore poma,

Et vi victa cadunt; arbor & ipsa gemit.
Nondum succus inest terræ generosus avitæ,
Nondum sol roseo redditur ore pater.
O mihi jucundum Grantæ super omnia nomen !
O penitùs toto corde receptus amor!
O pulchræ sine luxu ædes, vitæque beatæ,
Splendida paupertas, ingenuúsque, decor!
O chara ante alias, magnorum nomine regum
Digna domus! Trini nomine digna Dei!
O nimium Cereris cumulati munere campi,
Posthabitis Ennæ quos colit illa jugis!
O sacri fontes ! & sacræ vatibus umbræ,

Quas recreant avium Pieridúmque chori!
O Camus! Phoebo nullus quo gratior amnis!
Amnibus auriferis invidiosus inops !

Ah mihi si vestræ reddat bona gaudia sedis,
Detque Deus doctâ posse quiete frui!
Qualis eram, cum me tranquillâ mente sedentem
Vidisti in ripâ, Came serene, tuâ ;
Mulcentem audîsti puerili flumina cantu ;

Ille quidèm immerito, sed tibi gratus erat.
Nam, memini ripâ cum tu dignatus utrâque,
Dignatum est totum verba referre nemus.
Tunc liquidis tacitisque simul mea vita diebus,
Et similis vestræ candida fluxit aquæ.
At nunc cœnosæ luces, atque obice multo
Rumpitur ætatis turbidus ordo meæ.

Quid mihi Sequanâ opus, Tamesisve aut Thybridis unda?

Tu potis es nostram tollere, Came, sitim.

Felix, qui nunquam plus uno viderit amne!
Quique eadem Salicis littora more colit !
Felix, qui non tentatus sordescere mundus,
Et cui pauperies nota nitere potest!
Tempore cui nullo misera experientia constat,
Ut res humanas sentiat esse nihil!
At nos exemplis fortuna instruxit opimis,
Et documentorum satque supérque dedit.
Cum capite avulsum diadema, infractáque sceptra.
Contusásque hominum sorte minante minas,
Parcarum ludos, & non tractabile fatum,
Et versas fundo vidimus orbis opes.
Quis poterit fragilem post talia credere puppim
Infami scopulis naufragiisque mari?
Tu quoque in hoc terræ tremuisti, Academia, motu,
(Nec frustrà) atque ædes contremuêre tuæ :
Contremuêre ipsa pacatæ Palladis arces;

Et timuit fulmen laurea sancta novum.
Ah quanquam iratum, pestem hanc avertere numen,
Nec saltem bellis ista licere, velit!

Nos, tua progenies, pereamus; & ecce, perimus!
In nos jus habeat: jus habet omne malum.
Tu stabilis brevium genus immortale nepotum
Fundes; nec tibi mors ipsa superstes erit:
Semper plena manens uteri de fonte perenni
Formosas mittes ad mare mortis aquas.
Sic Venus humanâ quondam, Dea saucia dextrâ,
(Namque solent ipsis bella nocere Deis)
Imploravit opem superûm, questúsque cievit,
Tinxit adorandus candida membra cruor.
Quid quereris? contemne breves secura dolores;
Nam tibi ferre necem vulnera nulla valent.