III.

ROYAL AND ACADEMICAL.

NOTE.

In our Preface to the present Volume we give the title-pages of the original publications wherein appeared the Royal and Academical Poems of this section; in the translation of which I owe again thanks to the friends of the former divisions, as their initials show; and another, Professor Sole, of St. Mary's College, Oscott, Birmingham, to whom I am indebted for that bearing his initials. One to the 'Princess,' celebrated before, is here printed as well as translated for the first time, as noted in the place. It was deemed preferable to include it with the others rather than among those hitherto unprinted. For brief notices of the various Royal and Academical celebrities of these poems, see Memorial-Introduction and related English poems in Vol. I. and notes in their places in the present Volume.

Once more I note here the chief errors of Turnbull's text: 'Ad Carolum,' &c. l. 11, 'perrerati' for 'pererrati;' l. 26, 'discere' for 'dicere:' in 'In Serenissimæ Reginæ' &c. the heading is 'Senerissimæ;' l. 14, 'tuos' for 'tuus;' l. 41, 'Namque' for 'Nam quæ;' l. 43, 'Junus' for 'Janus:' in 'Principi recens' &c. l. 4, 'eum' for 'cum;' l. 10, 'lato' for 'late;' l. 22, 'imperiosus' for 'imperiosior;' l. 26, 'quoque' for 'quoquo;' l. 30, 'melle' for 'molle:' in 'Ad Reginam,' l. 35, 'aure' for 'auree:' in 'Votiva Domus' &c. l. 20, 'teneræ' for 'tremulae;' l. 25, 'jam' for 'bene;' l. 26, 'mulcent' for 'mulceat;' l. 29, 'minium' for 'nimium;' l. 40, 'ora' for 'ara;' l. 45, 'volvit' for 'volvat;' l. 50, 'motus ad oras' for 'nidus ad aras:' in 'Ejusdem caeterorum' &c. l. 5, 'natalis' for 'natales;' l. 15, 'qua' for 'quo;' l. 31, 'longe' for 'longo:' in 'Venerabili viro magistro Tournay' &c. l. 8, 'vixerit' for 'vexerit;' l. 21, 'tuos est' for 'tuas eat;' ll. 24, 27, and 28, 'est' for 'eat:' in 'Or. viro praeceptori' &c. l. 6, 'metuendas' for 'metuendus;' l. 20, 'est' for 'eat.' G.

AD CAROLUM PRIMUM:

REX REDUX.[120]

Ille redit, redit. Hoc populi bona murmura volvunt;
Publicus hoc, audin'? plausus ad astra refert:
Hoc omni sedet in vultu commune serenum;
Omnibus hinc una est laetitiae facies.
Rex noster, lux nostra redit; redeuntis ad ora
Arridet totis Anglia laeta genis:
Quisque suos oculos oculis accendit ab istis;
Atque novum sacro sumit ab ore diem.
Forte roges tanto quae digna pericula plausu
Evadat Carolus, quae mala quosve metus:
Anne pererrati male fida volumina ponti
Ausa illum terris pene negare suis:
Hospitis an nimii rursus sibi conscia tellus
Vix bene speratum reddat Ibera caput.
Nil horum; nec enim male fida volumina ponti
Aut sacrum tellus vidit Ibera caput.
Verus amor tamen haec sibi falsa pericula fingit—
Falsa peric'la solet fingere verus amor;
At Carolo qui falsa timet, nec vera timeret—
Vera peric'la solet temnere verus amor;
Illi falsa timens, sibi vera pericula temnens,
Non solum est fidus, sed quoque fortis amor.
Interea nostri satis ille est causa triumphi:
Et satis, ah, nostri causa doloris erat.
Causa doloris erat Carolus, sospes licet esset;
Anglia quod saltem dicere posset, abest.
Et satis est nostri Carolus nunc causa triumphi:
Dicere quod saltem possumus: Ille redit.

TRANSLATION.

THE RETURN OF THE KING.

'The King returns!' the people cry;
And shouts of greeting scale the sky.
The news sits in each look serene;
In each a common joy is seen.
Our King! our light! she laughs once more,
Glad Anglia, as he gains her shore.
Each at the King's eyes lights his eyes;
Sees new day with his face arise.
You'll ask, what fears beset his way,
What ills, what dangers,—we're so gay:
If 'gainst his bark, that sail'd for home,
The faithless billows dar'd to foam;
Or if, so seldom blest, you plann'd
To keep him still, Iberian land.
Nor waves have wrong'd his saintly head,
Nor green Iberia felt his tread.
Yet think such fancies true love will—
True love, that feigns false perils still:
Us such fears vex, whose hearts are stout—
True perils still true love will scout:
Thus fear false perils, scorn the true,
Will trusty love and brave in you.
O fitly we kept cloudy brow,
Because of him, as laughter now.
When we could say, 'Our King's not here,'
We griev'd for him, no danger near:
Now our hearts can no least joy lack,
When we say, laughing, 'He's come back.' A.

AD PRINCIPEM NONDUM NATUM,

REGINA GRAVIDA.[121]

Nascere nunc, ô nunc; quid enim, puer alme, moraris?
Nulla tibi dederit dulcior hora diem.
Ergone tot tardos, ô lente, morabere menses?
Rex redit; ipse veni, et dic, bone, gratus ades.
Nam quid ave nostrum? quid nostri verba triumphi?
Vagitu melius dixeris ista tuo.
At maneas tamen, et nobis nova causa triumphi:
Sic demum fueris; nec nova causa tamen:
Nam quoties Carolo novus aut nova nascitur infans,
Revera toties Carolus ipse redit.

TRANSLATION.

TO THE ROYAL INFANT NOT YET BORN,

THE QUEEN BEING WITH CHILD.

Be born, O, now; for why, fair child, delay?
No sweeter hour will bring to thee the day.
So many months wilt linger on the wing?
The King returns; come thou, and welcome bring.
What is our hail? our voice of triumph high?
Thou wilt have said these better with thy cry.
But stay; and soon new cause of triumph be;
And yet in thee no new cause shall we see:
Oft as to Charles is born new girl, new boy,
Sure Charles himself returns, and brings us joy. R. Wi.

IN FACIEM AUGUSTISSIMI REGIS

A MORBILLIS INTEGRAM.[122]

Musa redi, vocat alma parens Aeademia: noster
En redit, ore suo noster Apollo redit;
Vultus adhuc suus, et vultu sua purpura tantum
Vivit, et admixtas pergit amare nives.
Tune illas violare genas? tune illa profanis,
Morbe ferox, tentas ire per ora notis?
Tu Phoebi faciem tentas, vanissime? Nostra
Nec Phoebe maculas novit habere suas.
Ipsa sui vindex facies morbum indignatur;
Ipsa sedet radiis ô bene tuta suis:
Quippe illic Deus est. coelumque et sanctius astrum:
Quippe sub his totus ridet Apollo genis.
Quod facie Rex tutus erat, quod caetera tactus:
Hinc hominem Rex est fassus, et inde Deum.

TRANSLATION.

TO THE FACE OF THE MOST AUGUST KING.

UNINJURED BY SMALL-POX.

Come, Muse, at call of thy Academy:
With his own face our Phœbus here we see;
His face his own yet, with its own red dyed,
Which with its whiteness loves to be allied.
O fierce disease, dost thou, with marks profane,
Attempt these cheeks, that countenance, to stain?
Most futile! Dost attempt our Phœbus' face?
Not in our Phœbe her own spots canst trace.
His self-asserting face disdains disease;
'Mid its own rays it sits, O well at ease.
Sure God and heaven and holiest star are here;
Sure 'neath these cheeks smiles Phœbus full and clear.
Our King being safe in face, but touch'd elsewhere,
Proves he was here a god, though a man there. R. Wi.

IN SERENISSIMAE REGINAE

PARTUM HIEMALEM.[123]

Serta, puer; quis nunc flores non præbeat hortus?
Texe mihi facili pollice serta puer.
Quid tu nescio quos narras mihi; stulte, Decembres
Quid mihi cum nivibus? da mihi serta, puer.
Nix et hiems? non est nostras quid tale per oras;
Non est, vel si sit, non tamen esse potest.
Ver agitur: quaecunque trucem dat larva Decembrem,
Quid fera cunque fremant frigora, ver agitur.
Nonne vides quali se palmite regia vitis
Prodit, et in sacris quae sedet uva jugis?
Tam laetis quae bruma solet ridere racemis?
Quas hiemis pingit purpure tanta genas?
O Maria, ô divum soboles, genitrixque deorum,
Siccine nostra tuus tempora ludus erunt?
Siccine tu cum vere tuo nihil horrida brumae
Sidera, nil madidos sola morare notos?
Siccine sub media poterunt tua surgere bruma,
Atque suas solum lilia nosse nives?
Ergo vel invitis nivibus frendentibus Austris,
Nostra novis poterunt regna tumere rosis?
O bona turbatrix anni, quae limite noto
Tempora sub signis non sinis ire suis;
O pia praedatrix hiemis, quae tristia mundi
Murmura tam dulci sub ditione tenes;
Perge, precor, nostris vim pulchram ferre calendis;
Perge, precor, menses sic numerare tuos.
Perge intempestiva atque importuna videri;
Inque uteri titulos sic rape cuncta tui.
Sit nobis sit saepe hiemes sic cernere nostras
Exhaeredatas floribus ire tuis.
Saepe sit has vernas hiemes Maiosque Decembres,
Has per te roseas saepe videre nives.
Altera gens varium per sidera computet annum,
Atque suos ducant per vaga signa dies:
Nos deceat nimiis tantum permittere nimbis?
Tempora tam tetricas ferre Britanna vices?
Quin nostrum tibi nos omnem donabimus annum:
In partus omnem expende, Maria, tuos.
Sic tuus ille uterus nostri bonus arbiter anni:
Tempus et in titulos transeat omne tuos.
Namque alia indueret tam dulcia nomina mensis?
Aut qua tam posset candidus ire toga?
Hanc laurum Janus sibi vertice vellet utroque:
Hanc sibi vel tota Chloride Maius emet.
Tota suam, vere expulso, respublica florum
Reginam cuperent te sobolemve tuam.
O bona sors anni, cum cuncti ex ordine menses
Hic mihi Carolides, hic Marianus erit!

TRANSLATION.

TO HER SERENE MAJESTY, CHILD-BEARING IN WINTER.

Garlands! bring garlands, boy! what garden now
Would not give flowers? with ready hand do thou
Weave garlands. What! December, sayst thou,—snow?
Fool! hold thy blabbing, speak of what we know.
Winter upon our shores, and snow? the thing
Is not, and cannot be. It is the Spring:
Whatever ghost threatens us with the drear
Beatings of wild December, Spring is here.
See'st thou not with what leaves the royal vine
Spreads forth, what clusters on her boughs incline?
Say, when like this was Winter ever seen
To laugh and glow in purple? O great Queen,
Offspring of gods, and mother! do we see
The seasons thus a plaything made for thee?
Thus with thy Spring mayst thou the stars restrain,
That Winter sting not, nor the South bring rain.
And do the lilies by thy grace alone
Spring up, and know no snows except their own?
In spite of all that Winter may oppose,
Are thus our kingdoms blooming with the rose?
O thou most blest disturber of the year,
Who sufferest not the bounded seasons here
To keep i' their own signs! destroyer kind
Of Winter, whose sweet influence can bind
All harsher murmurs of the world, still dare
We pray thee, thus to force our calendar
With thy fair violence; continue still
The months to number at thine own sweet will;
Still thus untimely, still thus burdensome,
Make all things subject to thy royal womb.
So, by thy grace, may it be often ours
To see dethronèd Winter deck'd in flowers;
On snow that falls i' roses still to gaze,
Sweet vernal Winters and December Mays!
Let others by the stars compute their year,
And count their days as wandering signs appear:
Not so we Britons; not for us shall storm
With cruel change our seasons dare deform;
To thee, great Queen, our whole year we resign,
O spend it all i' those rich births of thine!
So the whole year shall own thy womb to be
Its sovereign arbitress of good; in thee
Merge all its titles. Where's the month could bear
A more delicious name, or ever wear
More whiteness? Janus, for his double crown,
Covets this laurel; Maius for his own
Would buy it, though his Chloris were the cost.
Thee or thine infant, now that Spring has lost
His ancient throne, the flow'ry states invite
To take their empire. O blest year, how bright
Thy fortunes, where each month in turn may claim
From Mary or from Charles its mighty name! G.

AD REGINAM

ET SIBI ET ACADEMIAE PARTURIENTEM.[124]

Huc ô sacris circumflua coetibus,
Huc ô frequentem, Musa, choris pedem
Fer, annuo doctum labore
Purpureas agitare cunas.
Foecunditatem provocat, en, tuam
Maria partu nobilis altero,
Prolemque Musarum ministram
Egregius sibi poscit infans.
Nempe illa nunquam pignore simplici
Sibive soli facta puerpera est:
Partu repercusso, vel absens,
Perpetuos procreat gemellos.
Hos ipsa partus scilicet efficit,
Inque ipsa vires carmina suggerit,
Quae spiritum vitamque donat
Principibus simul et Camaenis.
Possit Camaenas, non sine numine,
Lassare nostras diva puerpera,
Et gaudiis siccare totam
Perpetuis Heliconis undam.
Quin experiri pergat, et in vices
Certare sanctis conditionibus:
Lis dulcis est, nec indecoro
Pulvere, sic potuisse vinci.
Alternis Natura diem meditatur et umbras,
Hinc atro, hinc albo pignore facta parens.
Tu melior Natura tuas, dulcissima, servas—
Sed quam dissimili sub ratione!—vices.
Candida tu, et partu semper tibi concolor omni:
Hinc natam, hinc natum das; sed utrinque diem.

TRANSLATION.

TO THE QUEEN.

Hither, Muse, and bring again
Thy august surrounding train;
With measur'd tread of practis'd feet
Come, for thou hast learn'd to greet
With the voice of loyal cheer
A princely cradle year by year.
Lo, our noble Queen on thee
Calls in fruitful rivalry
By another birth; and he,
Illustrious infant, needs must have
The Muses' offspring for his slave.
Never has she yet been known
A mother for herself alone,
But by a reflected might
Even in absence doth delight
In twins ever, and while she
Thus augments her progeny,
And gives vigour to the lyre,
She doth at once with life inspire
Young princes, and the Muses' quire.
These, though not untouch'd they be
With the sacred flame, may she
Tire in her fruitful deity,
And with joys that theirs outrun,
Dry at last all Helicon!
Sweet is the strife wherein, to prove
Her powers, she deigns by rule to move;
Nor an unbecoming stain
Is the dust that they must gain,
Who in such contest can but fight in vain.
Nature, o'er day and night alternate dreaming,
Brings forth a swart child now, and now a fair:
On thee attends, O Queen in beauty beaming,
A better Nature, with a rule how rare!
Bright as thyself, thine own tend all the selfsame way;
A daughter now, and now a son; but each a child of
Day. Cl.

SERENISSIMAE REGINAE LIBRUM SUUM

COMMENDAT ACADEMIA.

Hunc quoque materna, nimium nisi magna rogamus,
Aut aviae saltem sume, Maria, manu.
Est Musa de matre recens rubicundulus infans,
Cui pater est partus—quis putet?—ille tuus.
Usque adeo impatiens amor est in virgine Musa:
Jam nunc ex illo non negat esse parens.
De nato quot habes olim sperare nepotes,
Qui simul et pater est, et facit esse patrem!

TRANSLATION.

TO HER MOST SERENE MAJESTY

THE UNIVERSITY COMMENDS ITS BOOK.

Deign, Queen, to this, unless we ask too much,
A mother's, or at least grandmother's, touch.
It is the Muse's rosy infant fine;
Its father—who would think?—this Child of thine.
So unrestrain'd the love of virgin Muse,
To be a mother thus she can't refuse.
From him what grandsons round thee soon will gather,
Who at once father is, and makes a father! R. Wi.

PRINCIPI RECENS NATAE

OMEN MATERNAE INDOLIS.[125]

Cresce, ô dulcibus imputanda divis;
O cresce, et propera, puella princeps,
In matris propera venire partes.
Et cum par breve fulminum minorum,
Illinc Carolus, et Jacobus inde,
In patris faciles subire famam,
Ducent fata furoribus decoris;
Cum terror sacer Anglicique magnum
Murmur nominis increpabit omnem
Late Bosporon Ottomanicasque
Non picto quatiet tremore Lunas;
Te tunc altera nec timenda paci
Poscent praelia; tu potens pudici
Vibratrix oculi, pios in hostes
Late dulcia fata dissipabis.
O eum flos tener ille, qui recenti
Pressus sidere jam sub ora ludit,
Olim fortior omne cuspidatos
Evolvet latus aureum per ignes;
Quique imbellis adhuc, adultus olim,
Puris expatiabitur genarum
Campis imperiosior Cupido;
O quam certa superbiore penna
Ibunt spicula melleaeque mortes,
Exultantibus hinc et inde turmis,
Quoquo jusseris, impigre volabunt!
O quot corda calentium deorum
De te vulnera delicata discent!
O quot pectora principum magistris
Fient molle negotium sagittis!
Nam quae non poteris per arma ferri,
Cui matris sinus atque utrumque sidus
Magnorum patet officina amorum?
Hinc sumas licet, ô puella princeps,
Quantacunque opus est tibi pharetra.
Centum sume Cupidines ab uno
Matris lumine Gratiasque centum
Et centum Veneres: adhuc manebunt
Centum mille Cupidines; manebunt
Tercentum Veneresque Gratiaeque
Puro fonte superstites per aevum.

TRANSLATION.

OF THE PRINCESS MARY.

Grow, maiden Princess, and increase,
Thou who with the sweet goddesses
Thy place shalt have; O haste to be
Thy mother's own epitome;
And when that pair of minor flames,
Thy princely brothers Charles and James,
Apt in the footsteps of their sire,
Lead on the Fates in glorious ire;
When o'er the Bosphorus shall creep
A thrill of dread, as rolls full deep
The murmur of the British name,
And with no feign'd alarm shall shame
The Turkish Crescent—other wars,
And such as bring sweet Peace no tears
Shall call thee forth; and from on high
The flashing of thy modest eye
Shall scatter o'er adoring foes
Thick volleys of delicious woes.
O, when that tender bloom which now
Plays, lately born, beneath thy brow,
In time to come with mightier blaze
Shall dart around its pointed rays;
When he, the Cupid now so mild,
No longer but a harmless child,
Shall range in youth's imperious pride
Thy cheeks' fair pastures far and wide,—
O then with what unerring skill,
Borne on proud wings, thy shafts shall kill,
While, where thou bid'st, the honey'd blow
Falls ceaseless midst the exulting foe!
How many god-like breasts shall learn
From thee with Love's rich wounds to burn!
How often shall thy mastering darts
Work their sweet will on princely hearts!
For what may she not do in war,
Whose mother's breast—with each bright star
That rul'd her birth—to her but proves
A storehouse of all-conquering loves?
Hence for thy quiver, Princess Maid,
Take what thou wilt, nor be afraid.
A hundred Cupids be thy prize,
From one of thy bright mother's eyes;
A hundred graces add to these,
And then a hundred Venuses:
A hundred-thousand Cupids still
Are hers; three hundred Graces will,
With Venuses in equal store,
Haunt that pure fount for evermore. Cl.

IN NATALES MARIAE PRINCIPIS.[126]

Parce tuo jam, bruma ferox, ô parce furori,
Pone animos; ô pacatae da spiritus aurae,
Afflatu leniore gravem demulceat annum.
Res certe et tempus meruit. Licet improbus Auster
Saeviat, et rabido multum se murmure volvat;
Imbriferis licet impatiens Notus ardeat alis;
Hic tamen, hic certe, modo tu non, saeva, negares,
Nec Notus impatiens jam, nec foret improbus Auster.
Scilicet hoc decuit? dum nos tam lucida rerum
Attollit series, adeo commune serenum
Laetitiae vernisque animis micat alta voluptas;
Jam torvas acies, jam squallida bella per auras
Volvere, et hibernis annum corrumpere nimbis?
Ah melius, quin luce novae reparata juventae
Ipsa hodie vernaret hiems, pulchroque tumultu
Purpureas properaret opes, effunderet omnes
Laeta sinus, nitidumque diem fragrantibus horis
Aeternum migrare velit, florumque beata
Luxurie, tanta ô circum cunabula surgat,
Excipiatque novos et molliter ambiat artus.
Quippe venit, sacris iterum vagitibus ingens
Aula sonat, venit en roseo decus addita fratri
Blanda soror. Tibi se brevibus, tibi porrigit ulnis,
Magne puer, facili tibi torquet hiantia risu
Ora; tibi molles lacrymas et nobile murmur
Temperat, inque tuo ponit se pendula collo.
Tale decus juncto veluti sub stemmate cum quis
Dat sociis lucere rosis sua lilia. Talis
Fulget honos medio cum se duo sidera mundo
Dulcibus intexunt radiis: nec dignior olim
Flagrabat nitidae felix consortio formae,
Tunc cum sidereos inter pulcherrima fratres
Erubuit primum, et Laedaeo cortice rupto
Tyndarida explicuit tenerae nova gaudia frontis.
Sic socium ô miscete jubar, tu candide frater,
Tuque serena soror. Sic ô date gaudia patri,
Sic matri cumque ille olim subeuntibus annis,
Ire inter proprios magna cervice triumphos.
Egregius volet, atque sua se discere dextra;
Te quoque tum pleno mulcebit sidere, et alto
Flore tui dulcesque oculos maturior ignis
Indole divina, et radiis intinget honoris.
Tunc ô te quoties, nisi quod tu pulchrior illa,
Esse suam Phoeben fulsus jurabit Apollo;
Tunc ô te quoties, nisi quod tu castior illa,
Esse suam Venerem Mavors jurabit inanis.
Felix, ah, et cui se non Mars, non aureus ipse
Credet Apollo parem; tanta cui conjuge celsus
In pulchros properare sinus, et carpere sacras
Delicias oculosque tuos, tua basia solus
Tum poterit dixisse sua; et se nectare tanto
Dum probat esse Deum, superas contemnere mensas.

TRANSLATION.

ON THE BIRTHDAY OF THE PRINCESS MARY.

Forbear thy fury, Winter fierce, forbear;
Lay down thy wrath, and let the tranquil air
With inspiration mild soothe the stern year:
This time deserves it, and occasion dear.
The wild North-wind may rage and wildly bluster;
The gusty South its rainy clouds may muster;
Yet here at least, if thou but will it so,
Neither wild North nor gusty South will blow.
For were it seemly, when events so bright
Exalt us, and the universal light
Of joy and vernal pleasure thrills the soul,
Grim lines of battling tempest-clouds should roll
Through all the air, and drown the year with rain?
Better old Winter should bright youth regain,
And turn at once to Spring; with tumult sweet
Hasten his purple stores, and joyful greet
With all his outpour'd heart this shining Day,
And bid its fragrant hours for ever stay;
Making a radiant wealth of flowers abound
Where in her cradle that sweet Child is found,
Her tender limbs caress and softly compass round.
She comes! Once more are heard those blessèd cries
Within the palace. See a glory rise—
A star-like glory added to the other,
A charming sister to a rosy brother!
To this she stretches out her tiny arms,
Fair Boy—for thee displays the winsome charms
Of her sweet smiles, and checks her gentle tears,
And coos and prattles to delight thine ears,
Or fondly hangs upon thy neck. Such grace
Pleases the eye, when, their stalks joined, you place
Lilies with roses to combine their splendour.
And then appears such lustrous glory tender,
When in the midst of heaven, at dewy eve,
Two stars their gentle radiance interweave.
Nor loftier grace that beauteous union show'd
When from her egg the fairest Helen glow'd
Betwixt her starry brothers, and display'd
Her tender brow with new delights array'd.
So mix your common beam, thou brother fair
And sister mild. Such joys your father share
And mother dear! And when, as seasons roll,
He moves with head erect and princely soul
Amid his proper triumphs, and shall learn
Himself by his own deeds, thou shalt discern
A riper flame within thee, heavenly dower,
And star full-orb'd shalt shine, and full-grown flower;
While a soft beauty bathes thy lustrous eyes,
And rays of majesty the world surprise.
Then O how oft, but that thou art more fair,
Will some imaginary Phœbus swear
That thou art his own Phœbe! or again
But that thou art more chaste, some Mars in vain
Will swear thou art his Venus, love's soft strain!
Ah, happy he, to whom nor Mars will dream
Nor golden Phœbus he can equal seem,
Who with a wife so sweet, so fair is blest,
And all the fond affection of thy breast,
And tender, pure endearments; who alone
Can call thy eyes and kisses all his own;
And while he quaffs such nectar'd wine of love,
Feels like a god, and scorns the feasts above. R. Wi.

AD REGINAM.[127]

Et vero jam tempus erat tibi, maxima mater,
Dulcibus his oculis accelerare diem:
Tempus erat, ne qua tibi basia blanda vacarent;
Sarcina ne collo sit minus apta tuo.
Scilicet ille tuus, timor et spes ille suorum,5
Quo primum es felix pignore facta parens,
Ille ferox iras jam nunc meditatur et enses,
Jam patris magis est, jam magis ille suus.
Indolis ô stimulos; vix dum illi transiit infans,
Jamque sibi impatiens arripit ille virum.10
Improbus ille suis adeo negat ire sub annis:
Jam nondum puer est, major et est puero.
Si quis in aulaeis pictas animatus in iras
Stat leo, quem docta cuspide lusit acus,
Hostis, io, est; neque enim ille alium dignabitur hostem;15
Nempe decet tantas non minor ira manus.
Tunc hasta gravis adversum furit; hasta bacillum est;
Mox falsum vero vulnere pectus hiat.
Stat leo, ceu stupeat tali bene fixus ab hoste,
Ceu quid in his oculis vel timeat vel amet,20
Tam torvum, tam dulce micant: nescire fatetur
Mars ne sub his oculis esset, an esset amor.
Quippe illic Mars est, sed qui bene possit amari;
Est et amor certe, sed metuendus amor:
Talis amor, talis Mars est ibi cernere; qualis25
Seu puer hic esset, sive vir ille Deus.
Hic tibi jam scitus succedit in oscula fratris;
Res, ecce, in lusus non operosa tuos.
Basia jam veniant tua quantacunque caterva;
Jam quocunque tuus murmure ludat amor.30
En, tibi materies tenera et tractabilis hic est;
Hic ad blanditias est tibi cera satis.
Salve infans, tot basiolis, molle argumentum,
Maternis labiis dulce negotiolum;
O salve; nam te nato, puer auree, natus35
Et Carolo et Mariae tertius est oculus.

TRANSLATION.

TO THE QUEEN.

'Twas now the time for thee, Mother most great,
With these sweet eyes the day to accelerate;
Time thy soft kisses should not idle be,
Or from fit burden thy fair neck be free.
For he, his parents' fear and hope confest,
With whom thou first wast made a mother blest,
He wraths and swords designs, courageous grown;
Now more his father's is, and more his own.
O spurs of nature! yet an infant, see
He catches at the man impatiently,
The rogue declines to keep in his own years;
Not yet a child, he more than child appears.
If on the tapestry, with feign'd anger fraught,
A lion stands, by skilful needle wrought,
A foe behold; such foe to fight he deigns;
A lesser wrath his mighty hand disdains.
Fierce spear he brandishes; a wand his spear:
Soon in false breast behold true wound appear.
The lion stands, maz'd by such enemy,
Fearing or loving something in his eye,
So sternly, sweetly bright; nor can he tell
Whether beneath that eye Mars or Love dwell.
In sooth, a Mars who may be lov'd is here;
And Love indeed, but Love deserving fear.
Such Love, such Mars, 'tis easy here to scan;
This god or that, as he is boy or man.
Thy babe now comes to take the endearing place,
A creature not beyond thy fond embrace.
Now let thy troops of kisses have their way,
Now let thy love with brooding murmur play;
Here is material tractable and tender,
Which waxen surface to soft touch shall render.
Hail, infant! gentle subject for caresses,
Employment sweet a mother's lips which blesses;
O hail; for with thy birth, thou golden boy,
Lo, to thy parents a third eye brings joy! R. Wi.

VOTIVA DOMUS PETRENSIS

PRO DOMO DEI.[128]

Ut magis in mundi votis aviumque querelis
Jam veniens solet esse dies, ubi cuspide prima
Palpitat, et roseo lux praevia ludit ab ortu;
Cum nec abest Phoebus, nec Eois laetus habenis
Totus adest, volucrumque procul vaga murmura mulcet:5
Nos ita; quos nuper radiis afflavit honestis
Relligiosa dies; nostrique per atria coeli—
Sacra domus nostrum est coelum—jam luce tenella
Libat adhuc trepidae fax nondum firma diei:
Nos ita jam exercet nimii impatientia voti,10
Speque sui propiore premit.
Quis pectora tanti
Tendit amor coepti, desiderio quam longo
Lentae spes inhiant, domus o dulcissima rerum,
Plena Deo domus! Ah, quis erit, quis, dicimus, ille—15
O bonus, ô ingens meritis, ô proximus ipsi,
Quem vocat in sua dona, Deo—quo vindice totas
Excutiant tenebras haec sancta crepuscula?
Quando,
Quando erit, ut tremulae flos heu tener ille diei,20
Qui velut ex oriente suo jam altaria circum
Lambit, et ambiguo nobis procul anuit astro,
Plenis se pandat foliis, et lampade tota
Laetus, ut e medio cum sol micat aureus axe,
Attonitam penetrare domum bene possit adulto25
Sidere, nec dubio pia moenia mulceat ore?
Quando erit, ut convexa suo quoque pulchra sereno
Florescant, roseoque tremant laquearia risu?
Quae nimium informis tanquam sibi conscia frontis
Perpetuis jam se lustrant lacrymantia guttis?30
Quando erit, ut claris meliori luce fenestris
Plurima per vitreos vivat pia pagina vultus?
Quando erit, ut sacrum nobis celebrantibus hymnum
Organicos facili et nunquam fallente susurro
Nobile murmur agat nervos; pulmonis iniqui35
Fistula nec monitus faciat malefida sinistros?
Denique, quicquid id est quod res hic sacra requirit,
Fausta illa et felix—sitque ô tua—dextra, suam cui
Debeat haec Aurora diem. Tibi supplicat ipsa,
Ipsa tibi facit ara preces. Tu jam illius audi,40
Audiet illa tuas. Dubium est, modo porrige dextram,
Des magis, an capias: audi tantum esse beatus,
Et damnum hoc lucrare tibi.
Scis ipse volucres
Quae rota volvat opes; has ergo, hic fige perennis45
Fundamenta Domus Petrensi in rupe, suamque
Fortunae sic deme rotam. Scis ipse procaces
Divitias quam prona vagos vehat ala per Euros;
Divitiis illas, age, deme volucribus alas,
Facque suus nostras illis sit nidus ad aras:50
Remigii ut tandem pennas melioris adeptae,
Se rapiant, dominumque suum super aethera secum.
Felix ô qui sic potuit bene providus uti
Fortunae pennis et opum levitate suarum,
Divitiisque suis aquilae sic addidit alas.55

TRANSLATION.

THE PRAYER OF PETERHOUSE FOR THE HOUSE OF GOD [=ITS CHAPEL].

As bids the Day a keener longing stir
The waking world, and warblings cheerier
To birds inspires, when comes she o'er the hills,
As quivering dart the streaks of Morn, and thrills
Through lattic'd sky from roseate East the light
Presaging his approach; nor absent quite,
Nor glorying in his slacken'd reins, the Sun
Is present all; and birds, to music won
By gentle touch, are murmuring far and near,—
So we, on whom with radiance severe
A solemn day begins to dawn; whose eye
Now sees glide through the heavenly courts which lie,
With portals wide—God's house is heaven, we say—
The flame unsteady of still wavering Day
Slenderly stealing in; the prospect nigher,
Our hearts too labour with extreme desire,
And throb with hopes impatient of their end.
How love of such a work our heart doth rend!
How long desire makes hopes in leash restrain'd
To pant! O sweetest House, on which has rain'd
The torrent of God's fulness. Ah, who is he,
Ah, who—O good, O huge in charity,
O nigh to God Himself,—Whom to descend
On His own gracious gifts he prays—shall lend
This sacred twilight power to drive away
All gloom, and shake her raiment into day?
Ah, when, thou pitifully trem'lous bloom
Of glimmering Day, that as from bridal room
In the Orient cam'st to kiss our altar-stone,
And beckonest to us from a star alone,
In yonder distance shining doubtfully,—
Ah, when wilt thou expand to Day, and, free
In conscious joy of thy full splendour, pour
A flood of light, as when the Sun doth soar
In golden mid-day, and, to full age grown,
Shine through and through the pile, and make it own
With awe thy sway, nor let the sacred walls
Doubt thy embrace?
Blest he to whom befalls
To see the vaulted roofs span their fair sky,
And break in flowers, while fretted ceilings lie
Trembling with rosy laughter; which do now,
As wearing of their shame a conscious brow,
Bedew their formless face with dropping tear.
When shall it be? the window growing clear
With better light, that many a page devout
May live, and life from glassy face breathe out.
Ah, when, as hymn of praise we celebrate,
Shall solemn-breathing murmur make vibrate
The organ's nerves with graceful ceaseless hum;
Nor pipe of lung unjust intruding come,
Each harsh, uncertain note for ever dumb?
Whatever else, in fine, this Sanctuary
May need, that right-hand bless'd and happy be,
And be it thine! to which the Dawn shall owe
Its day. The altar kneels to thee. Do thou
List to her prayer, and she will thine allow;
Stretch out thy laden hand, and doubtful live
Whether thou dost not more receive than give;
That thou art happy do thou only hear,
And turn thy loss to gain in yonder sphere.
Thou know'st what wheel makes riches fly away;
These riches therefore here securely lay,
Fountains of a House perennial,
On the Petrensian rock; from Fortune shall
Her own wheel thus be wrench'd. Thou knowest how prone
A wing bears up unconstant riches, blown
On vagrant, veering winds. Come, take away
These wings from fleeting riches, make them stay
At these our altars, and build here their nest;
Till arm'd with wings to better flight redress'd,
They may transport themselves to the home of rest,
Bearing their master with them.
Blest that man
Who knowing prudently the times to scan,
The airiness of wealth to profit brings,
And him on Fortune's pinions deftly flings,
And to his riches adds an eagle's wings. S.S.

IN CAETERORUM OPERUM

DIFFICILI PARTURITIONE GEMITUS.[129]

O felix nimis illa, et nostrae nobile nomen
Invidiae volucris, facili quae funere surgens
Mater odora sui, nitidae nova fila juventae,
Et festinatos peragit sibi fata per ignes.
Illa, haud natales tot tardis mensibus horas5
Tam miseris tenuata moris, saltu velut uno
In nova secla rapit sese, et caput omne decoras
Explicat in frondes, roseoque repullulat ortu.
Cinnameos simul illa rogos conscenderit, omnem
Laeta bibit Phoebum, et jam jam victricibus alis10
Plaudit humum cineresque suos.
Heu, dispare fato
Nos ferimur; seniorque suo sub Apolline phoenix
Petrensis mater, dubias librata per auras
Pendet adhuc, quaeritque sinum in quo ponat inertes15
Exuvias, spoliisque suae reparata senectae
Ore pari surgat, similique per omnia vultu.
At nunc heu nixu secli melioris in ipso
Deliquium patitur!
At nunc heu lentae longo in molimine vitae20
Interea moritur! Dubio stant moenia vultu
Parte sui pulchra, et fratres in foedera muros
Invitant frustra, nec respondentia saxis
Saxa suis; moerent opera intermissa, manusque
Implorant.25
Succurre piae, succurre parenti,
O quisquis pius es. Illi succurre parenti,
Quam sibi tot sanctae matres habuere parentem.
Quisquis es, ô tibi, crede, tibi tot hiantia ruptis
Moenibus ora loqui. Matrem tibi, crede verendam30
Muros tam longo laceros senioque situque
Ceu canos monstrare suos. Succurre roganti.
Per tibi plena olim, per jam sibi sicca precatur
Ubera, ne desis senio. Sic longa juventus
Te foveat, querulae nunquam cessura senectae.35

TRANSLATION.

A GROAN

ON OCCASION OF THE DIFFICULT PARTURITION OF THE REMAINING WORKS OF PETERHOUSE.

O bird too fortunate, whose glorious name
Fills us with envy of her happy fame,
Which by an easy death on soaring wing,
Sweet mother of herself, doth upwards spring,
Assumes afresh her shining youth's attire,
And wins new lease of life through hasten'd fire!
She—not through slow-revolving natal days
To a thin shadow worn by sad delays—
Transports herself into another round
Of centuries, as by a single bound;
With beauteous leaves her head she covers o'er,
And with a rosy birth shoots forth once more.
Soon as she climbs the spicy funeral pyre
Joyful she drinks the sun, and mounting higher,
Now, now the ground her wings victorious strike,
And her own ashes.
But, alas, we follow
No such example. 'Neath her own Apollo,
Our Mother Peterhouse, now ancient grown,
Our agèd Phœnix, hither, thither blown,
And balancing herself on doubtful air,
Hovers with wing uncertain, seeking where
Her relics she may lay, worn out with toils,
As in a nest, and from the very spoils
Of her own age renew'd, she may arise
In perfect comeliness of face and eyes,
As in the days of old, to mount the skies.
But now, alas, e'en in the very throes
Of her reviving age our Phœnix knows
And keenly feels a sad deficiency.
Alas, in life's long lingering effort she
Now in the mean while dies. Of doubtful face,
Her buildings seem in part bedeck'd with grace;
But elsewhere, heedless of inviting calls
To union, stand the unfinish'd brother walls.
On unresponsive ears the summons falls;
As stones to fellow-stones appealing turn,
The interrupted works together mourn,
And beg a helping hand. O, succour bring,
Whoe'er is pious, to the parent wing
Which shelter'd thee beneath its holy shade,
And gave so many mother churches[130] aid
Parental; O, be now thy help display'd.
Whoe'er thou art, the ruin'd courts to thee
With gaping mouths are speaking audibly.
Thy reverend mother would thine eyes engage
To view thy walls, dismantled long with age
And base neglect, and ponder her gray hair.
By the full breasts which once she offer'd thee,
By the dry breasts which she is doom'd to see
Now for herself, she cries imploringly:
'My age to help, O fail not to appear;
So may long-lasting youth thy bosom cheer,
Youth which complaining age shall never fear.' R. Wi.

TRANSLATION (more freely).

A LAMENT

OVER THE SLOW RESTORATION OF PETERHOUSE-COLLEGE BUILDINGS.

O Phœnix, all-too-happy bird,
Who enviless thy fame has heard?
Thou, thine own mother, from the pyre—
Spices mix'd with flickering fire—
Sweetly didst thy breath suspire;
Then rose again, and thy age gone
In a swift resurrection—
Gone! by wondrous mystic skill
Wearing a richer plumage still,
Youth renew'd from feet to bill,—
Thou didst not linger in thine age,
Nor a slow weary struggle wage,
With changing cures and long delay
Searching for life in every way.
No; but a quick fate self-choosing,
All hindering self-ruth refusing,
Thou didst raise thy funeral pyre,
Thou didst hovering i' the fire,
From amidst the perfum'd flame
Spring up, immortal as thy fame.
Thou didst lift thy comely head,
Ev'ry moulting feather shed;
Thou didst raise thy radiant breast
Blazing to the blazing West.
O Phœnix, thou'rt an awful bird;
Who enviless thy fame has heard?
Climbing to thy funeral pyre,
Climbing self-martyr'd to the fire,
Sweetly there to bear thine ire;
Fetching down from the great sun
To pilèd nest of cinnamon
Rays intense; then upward winging,
Sudden from thine ashes springing;
Victorious by this quaint mewing,
Life strangely out of death renewing;
Now i' the red fire consuming,
Next at the sun thine eyes reluming.
Alas, how different is the fate
In this our later age, ingrate,
Of her, my mother-college, lying
All desolate and slowly dying;
Lifting but a feeble wing,
Though once, as Phœnix of the fire,
Springing immortal from its pyre;
When Apollo and the Graces
Reign'd where Ruin now defaces,
Gave her, when she shone in splendour,
Orator, sage, and poet tender;
Gave her sons, noble and good,
Better than the bluest blood:
O how chang'd, since those days olden
Such as in the ages golden,
I behold her, smitten, lorn,
And by every Fury torn,
Hanging in uncertain strife
As it were 'twixt death and life;
Doubting whether e'en she shall
Have so much as funeral;
Her corpse laid in some quiet bay,
Where the sea-waves softly play;
Willing they should take her bones—
Her time-stain'd, rent, and shatter'd stones;
If only thus but once again
Rebuilded, she might yet attain
To something of her old renown
By such resurrection,
And, phœnix-like, herself out-do
In her best days when she was new.
O ye sons, your mother own
In her desolation;
Own her, though in aging years
She shows few and thin gray hairs,
Where once,—ah—in brave times of old—
Flash'd her proud locks with sheen of gold.
Ah, Peter nam'd, thou art denied,
Thus is thy name verified.
'Tis a spectacle for tears;
'Tis a spectacle for fears;
'Tis a spectacle for wonder;
'Tis a crime deserves the thunder,
That from base to gold-touch'd ceiling
Day by day her halls are reeling;
Mullion'd window torn and rent,
And destruction imminent;
Everywhere such gaping wounds
As a stranger e'en astounds;
And what was in faith begun
Left in desolation;
Stone to stone in mute appealing,
Cold neglect and scorn revealing,
And the font of tears unsealing.
Sons of my Mother-College lying
All in ruins and slow dying,
If ye have aught of piety
Or least touch of charity,
Look on these broken walls, and see
Your mother in her misery;
Holding up, in vain appealing,
Wither'd hands, her woes revealing;
And in the rank growths tangled there
See her dishonourèd gray hair.
Woe is me, her genial breast,
Which so many sons has blest,
Each all welcoming that came,
Drawn by her renownèd name,
Wither'd, shrunk, can quench no thirst,
Ah, my heart with grief will burst.
To my dim eye there rises clear
The full tide that once roll'd here;
Now shingle, sand, and fest'ring mud
Tell of the far-refluent flood.
O, pity her, ye sons, and vow
Once more to crown your mother's brow;
Once more to rear her crumbling walls;
Once more to gather in her halls
The young, the brave, the true, the good,
The wise, the noble; and the Rood
Over all shall bless and keep;
So in old age ye shall not weep,
Nor ever shall your fair fame sleep. G.

VENERABILI VIRO MAGISTRO TOURNAY,

TUTORI SUO SUMME OBSERVANDO.

Messis inauravit Cereri jam quarta capillos,
Vitis habet Bacchum quarta corona suae,
Nostra ex quo, primis plumae vix alba pruinis,
Ausa tuo Musa est nidificare sinu.
Hic nemus, hic soles, et coelum mitius illi;5
Hic sua quod Musis umbra vel aura dedit.
Sedit ibi secura malus quid moverit Auster,
Quae gravis hibernum vexerit ala Jovem.
Nescio quo interea multum tibi murmure nota est:
Nempe sed hoc poteras murmur amare tamen.10
Tandem ecce, heu simili de prole puerpera! tandem
Hoc tenero tenera est pignore facta parens.
Jamque meam hanc sobolem, rogo, quis sinus alter haberet?
Quis mihi tam noti nempe teporis erat?
Sed quoque et ipsa meus, de te, meus, improba, tutor,15
Quam primum potuit dicere, dixit, erit.
Has ego legitimae, nec laevo sidere natae
Non puto degeneres indolis esse notas;
Nempe quod illa suo patri tam semper apertos,
Tam semper faciles norit adire sinus.20
Ergo tuam tibi sume: tuas eat illa sub alas:
Hoc quoque de nostro, quod tuearis, habe.
Sic quae Suada tuo fontem sibi fecit in ore,
Sancto et securo melle perennis eat.
Sic tua, sic nullas Siren non mulceat aures,25
Aula cui plausus et sua serta dedit.
Sic tuus ille, precor, Tagus aut eat obice nullo,
Aut omni, quod adhuc, obice major eat.

TRANSLATION.

TO THE VENERABLE MAN MASTER TOURNAY,

MY TUTOR MOST REVERED.[131]

A fourth time now our glebe for Ceres bears
The golden locks of harvest; Bacchus wears
Now the fourth season his bright vine-leaf crown,
Since, scant'ly hoar as yet with the soft down
Of her first plumage, in thy gentle breast
My young Muse dar'd to build herself a nest.
Here found she sun and shade and gentler heaven,
And what with these is by the Muses given
Were hers. Here sat she careless how the skies
Might darken, or the blasts of winter rise;
And here her voice reach'd thee, but by what move
Of fate I know not, only that thy love
Her voice did win; and now at length behold—
And ah, how much the child her arms enfold
Is like the mother!—she in tender years
The parent of a tender babe appears.
What lap, then, for this infant shall I find
Fitter than thine, or known by me so kind?
Yea, soon as she could speak, the wanton, she
Said, 'He shall be my guardian,' meaning thee;
And no ill forecast I would deem is this
Of Genius true and favouring deities,
That she so early should a sire divine
Always so open, always so benign.
Take, then, thine own—she is beneath thy wing—
And of this gift accept the offering.
So may Persuasion, who her fount has made
Upon thy lips, still pour from thence unstay'd
Her sacred honey; so be at the Court,
Whereto with plausive wreaths she doth resort,
No ears thy Siren move not; so, I pray,
No hindering bar thy Tagus strive to stay,
Or only such as erst thy stream has swept away. Cl.

ORNATISSIMO VIRO PRAECEPTORI SUO

COLENDISSIMO MAGISTRO BROOK.

O mihi qui nunquam nomen non dulce fuisti,
Tunc quoque cum domini fronte timendus eras;
Ille ego pars vestri quondam intactissima regni,
De nullo virgae nota labore tuae,
Do tibi quod de te per secula longa queretur,
Quod de me nimium non metuendus eras:
Quod tibi turpis ego torpentis inertia sceptri
Tam ferulae tulerim mitia jura tuae.
Scilicet in foliis quicquid peccabitur istis,
Quod tua virga statim vapulet, illud erit;
Ergo tibi haec poenas pro me mea pagina pendat.
Hic agitur virgae res tibi multa tuae.
In me igitur quicquid nimis illa pepercerit olim,
Id licet in foetu vindicet omne meo.
Hic tuus inveniet satis in quo saeviat unguis,
Quodque veru docto trans obeliscus eat:
Scilicet haec mea sunt; haec quas mala scilicet: ô si,
Quae tua nempe forent, hic meliora forent!
Qualiacunque, suum norunt haec flumina fontem—
Nilus ab ignoto fonte superbus eat—
Nec certe nihil est qua quis sit origine. Fontes
Esse solent fluvii nomen honorque sui.
Hic quoque tam parvus, de me mea secula dicant,
Non parvi soboles hic quoque fontis erat.
Hoc modo et ipse velis de me dixisse: Meorum
Ille fuit minimus—sed fuit ille meus.

TRANSLATION.

TO THAT MOST CULTURED MAN,

HIS MOST ESTIMABLE TUTOR MASTER BROOK.[132]

O thou, whose name to me was still endear'd
E'en when the master's brow was justly fear'd;
I, of thy realm the most inviolate part,
By touch of thy birch-rod ne'er taught to smart,
Give thee what through long years complains of thee
That thou wast not enough a fear to me;
That I, base subject of thy sceptre slow,
Thy ferule's milder sway should only know.
Sooth, in these leaves what faults soe'er thou see,
Thy rod in every case should punish'd be.
Then let this page for me the suffering pay;
Here certainly thy rod may have full play;
Howe'er that rod to me was once too mild,
It may revenge it all on this my child;
Here will thy nail discover where to rage,
And scratch a learnèd blot across the page.
These which are bad, forsooth, these things are mine;
Would they were better, that they might be thine!
Whate'er they are, these streams their fountain know,
Nile from an unknown fount may proudly go.
Not lightly what one's source may be we deem;
Fountains give name and honour to their stream.
So small—my times perhaps may say of me—
An offspring of no fountain small was he.
Only to say of me may it be thine:
'He was my least indeed—but he was mine!' R. Wi.

IN REV. DRE. BROOKE EPITAPHIUM.[133]

Posuit sub ista, non gravi, caput terra
Ille, ipsa quem mors arrogare vix ausa
Didicit vereri, plurimumque suspenso
Dubitavit ictu, lucidos procul vultus,
Et sidus oris acre procul prospectans.
Cui literarum fama cum dedit lumen,
Accepit, atque est ditior suis donis.
Cujus serena gravitas faciles mores
Muliere novit; cujus in senectute
Famaeque riguit, et juventa fortunae.
Ita brevis aevi, ut nec videri festinus;
Ita longus, ut nec fessus. Et hunc mori credis?

TRANSLATION.

EPITAPH ON REV. DR. BROOK.

Beneath this earth, strew'd lightly, lies the head
Of one whom Death himself had learnt to dread,
Scarce venturing to claim; and falter'd much
Ere he allow'd his threatening stroke to touch
That sacred presence. These bright eyes from far
He view'd; from far that face ray'd like a star.
On whom when fame of letters lustre drew,
He took it as his right, and richer grew
By his own gifts to learning; whose serene
Severity of manners seem'd to have been
Temper'd by woman's softness; whose good name,
In later as in early years the same,
Stood firm; his fortune equal to his fame.
His life so short, that not in haste he seem'd;
So long, that weary he might not be deem'd:
That such a one is dead, can it be dream'd? R. Wi.

EPITAPHIUM IN GULIELMUM HERRISIUM.[134]

Siste te paulum, viator, ubi longum sisti
Necesse erit, huc nempe properare te scias quocunque properas.
Morae pretium erit
Et lacrymae,
Si jacere hic scias
Gulielmum
Splendidae Herrisiorum familiae
Splendorem maximum:
Quem cum talem vixisse intellexeris,
Et vixisse tantum;
Discas licet
In quantas spes possit
Assurgere mortalitas,
De quantis cadere.

Quem┌Infantem Essexia┐vidit.
└JuvenemCantabrigia┘
Quem┌OratoriaOratorem┐agnovere.
│PoeticaPoetam│
│UtraquePhilosophum│
└Christianum Omnes┘
Qui┌FideMundum┐superavit.
│SpeCoelum│
│CharitateProximum│
└HumilitateSeipsum┘

TRANSLATION.

EPITAPH FOR WILLIAM HARRIS.

Stay thee a short space here, good passer-by,
Upon thy way;
Wherein a little while thou too must lie,
Haste as thou may.
Certes thou knowest that thy life-long quest
Leads hither—to the long, long sleep and rest:
Grudge thee not, then, the tribute of a tear,
Whilst, ling'ring, to this stone thou drawest near.
It will reward thy stay,
It will thy tears repay,
To know
Below
lies
William,
Of the family of Harris,
The most splendid name
Where all have fame.
Knowing that such an one did live,
And how he liv'd—great, noble, wise—
Know how all mortal hopes are fugitive;
Height gauging depth with 'Here he lies.'

Whom┌As infantEssex┐saw.
└As youthCambridge┘
Whom┌Eloquence as anOrator┐owned.
│Poetry as aPoet│
│Each as aPhilosopher│
└All as aChristian┘
Who┌By faith theworld┐conquered.
│By hopeHeaven│
│By love hisfellow-men│
└By himselfhimself┘

IN EUNDEM SCAZON.[136]

Huc, hospes, oculos flecte, sed lacrimis caecos,
Legit optime haec, quem legere non sinit fletus.
Ars nuper et natura, forma, virtusque
Aemulatione fervidae, paciscuntur
Probare uno juvene quid queant omnes,
Fuere tantae terra nuper fuit liti,
Ergo huc ab ipso Judicem manent coelo.

TRANSLATION.

Stranger, bend here thine eyes, but dim with tears;
Whom weeping blinds, best reader here appears.
Art, Nature, Beauty, Virtue, all agree,
Contending late with a warm rivalry,
To show what in one youth all join'd would be.
So great the strife they caus'd on earth of late,
That here from heaven itself the Judge they wait. R. Wi.

IN PICTURAM REVERENDISSIMI EPISCOPI

D. ANDREWS.[137]

Haec charta monstrat, fama quem monstrat magis,
Sed et ipsa necdum fama quem monstrat satis;
Ille, ille totam solus implevit tubam,
Tot ora solus domuit, et famam quoque
Fecit modestam: mentis igneae pater
Agilique radio lucis aeternae vigil,
Per alta rerum pondera indomito vagus
Cucurrit animo, quippe naturam ferox
Exhausit ipsam mille foetus artibus,
Et mille linguis ipse se in gentes procul
Variavit omnes, fuitque toti simul
Cognatus orbi, sic sacrum et solidum jubar
Saturumque coelo pectus ad patrios libens
Porrexit ignes: hac eum, lector, vides
Hac, ecce, charta ô utinam et audires quoque.

GLOSSARIAL INDEX.

As in the other Worthies, this Index is intended to guide to Notes and Illustrations of the several words in the places; but mainly in Vol. I., as Vol. II. consists wholly of the Latin and Greek and their translations. G.

END OF VOL. II.
Finis.

LONDON:
ROBSON AND SONS, PRINTERS, PANCRAS ROAD, N.W.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] Crashaw's version is inadvertently inserted here instead of at p. 201. G.

[2] See p. 261 (ll. 13-14 of the Poem) for the subject of the above vivid illustration of the captive Bird, by Mrs. Blackburn, as before, specially for us (in 4to).

[3] Not to be confounded with Handsworth in Staffordshire, or Hensworth near Doncaster.

[4] In his Will (as before) he leaves 'to my aunt Rowthe my owne works.' She was Dorothy, daughter of John Eyre, of Laughton, co. York.

[5] Mr. Hunter cannot have gone about his inquiries at Handsworth with his usual persistence, for he says (as supra), 'I conjecture that he may have been born about 1575, but I do not remember of his baptism in my extracts from the Parish Register of Hansworth, nor indeed any notice of the name of Crashaw,' &c. The Register, as shown above, abounds in the name of Crashaw. For the 'conjecture' of 1575 it is gratifying to be able to substitute the baptism-record in 1572. Later, indeed, Mr. Hunter discovered his mistake. It is not very creditable to the Rev. Dr. Gatty that in his edition of Hunter's 'Hallamshire'—a district which includes Handsworth—he has left the interesting facts laid to his hand unused. Surely it was worth while to claim Crashaw as sprung of Handsworth.

[6] I have very specially to thank Dr. Henry Hunter, of Taunton, the Rector of Handsworth (Rev. John Hand, M.A.), and Mr. Henry Cadman, of Ballifield Hall, for continued help in these local searches and recoveries. Dugdale's 'Visitation of Yorkshire' (under Strafford and Tickhill Wapentake) has other Crashaws.

[7] His Will, as before.

[8] Communicated by W. Aldis Wright, Esq. M.A., as before. The remainder of the note refers to after-matters not necessary to be recorded here.

[9] Communicated to me by Professor Mayor, of Cambridge.

[10] On Alvey, see Brook's Puritans, ii. 85-6.

[11] From the 'Honovr of Vertve' we also learn that Usher had baptised our Richard; another very interesting fact. We give the opening words, after the monumental inscription: 'The Funerall Sermon was made by Doctor Vsher of Ireland, then in England, and now Lord Bishop of Meath, in Ireland. It was her owne earnest request to him, that he would preach at the baptisme of her sonne, as he had eight yeares afore, being then also in England, at the baptisme of her husband's elder sonne. Now because it proued to be both the baptisme of the sonne and buriall of the mother, as she often said it would, he therefore spake out of this text, 1 Sam. iv. 2.' It will be noticed that 'eight years' from 1620 take us back to 1612-13, our Crashaw's birth-year. I add farther this on Mrs. Crashaw: 'Being yong, faire, comely, brought vp as a gentlewoman, in musick, dancing, and like to be of great estate, and therefore much sought after by yong gallants and rich heires, and good joinctures offered, yet she chose a Divine twise her owne age.'

[12] The longest poem is anonymous. It commences with a curious enumeration of popular 'omens' supposed to precede death or misfortune. The lines onward put some of the sweet commonplaces of our Literature very well:

'Her time was short, the longer is her rest;
God takes them soonest whom He loveth best;
For he that's borne to-day and dyes to-morrow
Looseth some dayes of ioy, but yeares of sorrow.'

A fragment of it is in the Dr. Farmer Chetham MS. (as edited by us).

[13] The title-page of the 'Iesvites' Gospell,' is extremely disingenuous, as there is no hint whatever of a prior publication, and the wording indeed is such as to make it seem that the Author, though dead well-nigh a quarter of a century at the time, was still living; for it thus runs: 'By W.C. And now presented to the Honourable the House of Commons in Parliament Assembled' (1641). Crashaw senior was Ultra-Protestant, but he is made insulting and offensive beyond his intention, as his own title-pages show. Any title-page after 1626 was not his.

[14] Robert Dixon, gent., proved the Will on 16th October 1626, and power was reserved for farther proof by Richard Crashaw, who, as under age, could not then act. Except that young Richard is named executor, there is no special provision made for him; and we must assume that as only son and child he necessarily inherited his portion over and above the (considerable) legacies. It was no uncommon thing at the period to name one young as Master Richard an executor; there are instances even of an unborn child being nominated.

[15] Yet is it notable that the elder Crashaw instituted 'a daily Morning Exercise'—reckoned High-churchly then and since. The 'Honour of Vertue' records that 'many hundred poore soules' had to bless God for the 'Exercise.'

[16] Thomas Baker's note in W. Crashaw's 'Romish Forgeries' (as partly quoted before) is utterly mistaken and misdirectedly strong: 'Erat ille [the elder Crashaw] acerrimus Propugnator Religionis Reformatæ, quam Filius ejus Ric. Crashaw, injuriis vexatus, pressus inopia, Patria extorris, et complexu Matris Ecclesiæ avulsus, abjuravit.'

[17] The passage occurs in his Sermon before 'Lord Lawarre' on setting out for Virginia (see its title-page ante). After disposing of (1) the divels, (2) the Papists, he comes, as follows, to (3) the Plaiers. 'As for the Plaiers: (pardon me, right honourable and beloued, for wronging this place and your patience with so base a subject), they play with Princes and Potentates, Magistrates and Ministers, nay with God and Religion and all holy things: nothing that is good, excellent, or holy can escape them: how then can this action? But this may suffice, that they are Players: they abuse Virginia, but they are Players: they disgrace it; true, but they are but Players, and they haue played with better things, and such as for which, if they speedily repent not, I dare say, vengeance waites for them. But let them play on; they make men laugh on earth, but "Hee that sits in heaven laughes them to scorne;" because like the flie, they so long play with the candle, till first it singe their wings, and at last burnes them altogether. But why are the Players enemies to this Plantation and doe abuse it? I will tell you the causes. First, for that they are so multiplied here, that one cannot liue by another, and they see that wee send of all trades to Virginia, but wee send no Players, which if wee would doe, they that remaine would gaine the more at home. Secondly, as the diuell hates vs because wee purpose not to suffer Heathens, and the Pope because wee have vowed to tolerate no Papists, so doe the Players, because wee resolue to suffer no idle persons in Virginia; which course, if it were taken in England, they know they might turne to new occupations' [sheet H 3, unpaged]. The 'Talk' in Selden's 'Table-Talk' is as follows: 'I never converted but two; the one was Mr. Crashaw, from writing against Plays, by telling him a way how to understand that place [of putting on women's apparel], which has nothing to do in the business [as neither has it]—that the Fathers speak against Plays in their time with reason enough, for they had real idolatries mixed with their Plays, having three altars perpetually upon the stage' ('Poetry,' § 3). In confirmation farther of our correction of a long-continued error, I find the elder Crashaw in another of his sermons touching incidentally on the very point of 'women's apparel,' as follows: 'The ungodly playes and enterludes so rife in this nation: what are they but a bastard of Babylon, a daughter of error and confusion, a hellish device (the divel's own recreation to mock at holy things), by him delivered to the heathen, from them to the Papists, and from them to us?... They know all this, and that God accounts it abomination for a man to put on woman's apparel, and that the ancient Fathers expounded that place against them' (Sermon preached at the Crosse, Feb. 14, 1607 ... justified by the Author ... 1609, 4to, p. 169). Probably the preacher intimated his intention to pursue his condemnation farther, and so the great Scholar put him right on the well-known text.

[18] See Professor Mayor's 'Nicholas Ferrar' (1855), pp. vi. vii. 330. He has satisfied us that Crashaw was not the author of the Epitaph on Nicholas Ferrar, as Sancroft supposed. See p. 144.

[19] His reading included Hebrew, Greek, Latin, Italian, Spanish. His 'exercises' were 'Poetry, Drawing, Limming, Graving' ('exercises of his curious invention and sudden fancy'). See our vol. i. p. xlvii.

[20] 'Pope Alexander the Seventh and the College of Cardinals.' By John Bargrave, D.D., Canon of Canterbury [1662-1680]. With a Catalogue of Dr. Bargrave's Museum. Edited by J.C. Robertson, M.A., Canon of Canterbury. Camden Society, 1867, 4to. Todd, in his Milton (i. 250-1), first quoted the above from the MS.

[21] Crashaw's name is duly entered in the list of Converts of the 1648-9 edition of Dr. Carier's 'Missive to his Majesty of Great Britain ... containing the Motives of his Conversion to Catholike Religion'—thus: 'Mr. Richard Crashaw, Master of Arts of Peterhouse, Cambridge, now Secretary to a Cardinall in Rome, well known in England for his excellent and ingenious Poems.' The Countess of Denbigh is also in the list.

[22] In its place (vol. i. p. 234) an Epitaph is headed 'Vpon Doctor Brooke.' This may possibly have been Brook of the Charterhouse; but I had thought it the brother of Christopher Brook (or Brooke)—Dr. Samuel Brooke, the associate of Dr. Donne, and author of a dainty little poem on 'Tears.' I am not aware that the Master of the Charterhouse was 'Doctor.' But his name is spelled Brooks in 'Domus Carthusiana,' p. 139. With reference to 'Priscianus' and 'Stomachus' and 'Hymn to Venus,' &c., two things are noticeable: (1) that earlier Crashaw was of the 'earth earthy,' as much as any of his contemporary poets;—his 'Royal' and other early poetry (as above) is heathenish almost—in strange and suggestive contrast with his later, when every atom of him was religious: (2) that he was not without humour or power of satire. It is a man's loss to be without humour—he has a poorer nature if he be without it; and for myself, I relish the human-ness of some of Crashaw's earlier Verse, as distinguished from his after intensely-unearthly spiritual Poetry.

[23] The following entry from the Admission-Book of Pembroke College refers to Crashaw's Tournay: 'Mar. 1, 1620. Joannes Turney, Cantianus, annos habens [blank] admissus est sizator sub custodia Mri Duncon.' In another account of the Fellows of Pembroke by Attwood in continuation of Bishop Wren is this: 'Joannes Tourney, Cantianus, scholaris Collegii Mro Vaughan [i.e. 20 Oct. 1627] titulum obtinet eodem anno. An. 1632 Prædicator Academiæ. An. 1634, Thesaurarius Junior et S. Theologiæ Baccalaureus. Thesaurarius Senior an. 1635, et Attornatus Collegii cum Mro Vaughan in negotiis collegium quocunque modo spectantibus.'

[24] From the Admission-Book of Christ's College I get the following: 'Gulielmus Harris, Essexiensis, filius Gulielmi Equitis de Margret-Ing. institutus in rudimentis grammaticis sub Mro Plumtræ Scholæ publicæ de Brentwood Archididasculo, admissus Mar. 2, 1623, ætatis 16, sub Mro Siddall.' The family of Harris, lords of the manor of Shenfield in the parish of Margaret-Ing in Essex, occurs in Morant's 'Essex.' Sir William Herrys married Frances Astley. From Attwood (as before) I glean these farther entries: 'Gulielmus Herrys, Essexiensis, Colegii Christi alumnus, Artium Baccalaureus; electus et ille Jan. 8, an. 1630. An. 1631 incipit in Artibus. Monitor autem illo anno, Oct. 15. Optimæ spei juvenis.' He may have died of the plague (cf. Cooper's 'Annals of Cambridge,' iii. 243). (From Mr. Wright, as before.)

[25] Stanynough has also verses in the Univ. Collections of 1625 and 1633. He was buried in Queen's College Chapel, 5 March 1634-5 (St. Bot. Regr.). I do not deem it necessary to record the college entries concerning him, from his admission as pensioner, 30 April 1622, to 'leave to forbear to take orders,' Sept. 1631: renewed 22 July 1633.

[26] The whole §, pp. 34-37, is full of anecdote and of rare interest, and sorrowfully confirmatory of Crashaw's words.

[27] I find I cannot spare room for Cowley's own separate poem on Hope. It is in all the editions of his Poems.

[28] Bishop Laud, in his Defence, pleads that he had retained many in the Church of England, and names the Duke of Buckingham, spite of his mother's and sister's influence (Works, s.n.). Buckingham's mother was a fervent Catholic, and here his 'sister,' i.e. Susan first Countess of Denbigh, is placed with her as Roman Catholic. Other references go to make the fact certain. I hope to be called on hereafter to give details (as supra).

[29] The poems entitled 'Prayer: an Ode which was prefixed to a little prayer-book given to a young gentlewoman,' and 'To the same Party: covncel concerning her choise' (vol. i. pp. 128-137), have much of the sentiment and turn of wording of the Verse-Letters to the Countess of Denbigh; but I have failed to discover who is designated by their 'M.R.' It is clear she was a 'gentle'-born Lady. 'Mrs.' does not necessarily designate a married person. She may have been a 'fair young Lady.'

[30] The 'Epiphanie' has some of the grandest things of Crashaw, and things so original in the thought and wording as not easily to be paralleled in other Poets: e.g. 'Dread Sweet' (l. 236), and the superb 'Something a brighter shadow, Sweet, of thee' (l. 250). The most Crashaw-like of early 'Epiphany' or Christmas Hymns is that of Bishop Jeremy Taylor, from which I take these lines:

'Awake, my soul, and come away!
Put on thy best array;
Least if thou longer stay,
Thou lose some minitts of so blest a day.
Goe run,
And bid good-morrow to the sun;
Welcome his safe return
To Capricorn;
And that great Morne
Wherein a God was borne,
Whose story none can tell,
But He whose every word's a miracle.'

(Our ed. of Bp. Taylor's Poems, pp. 22-3.)

En passant, since our edition of Bishop Taylor's Poems was issued we have discovered that a 'Christmas Anthem or Carol by T.P.,' which appeared in James Clifford's 'Divine Services and Anthems' (1663), is Bishop Taylor's Hymn. This we learn from 'The Musical Times,' Feb. 1st, 1871, in a paper on Clifford's book. Criticising the words as by an unknown T.P.—ignorant that he was really criticising Bp. Jeremy Taylor—the (I suppose) learned Writer thus appreciatively writes of the grand Hymn and these passionate yearning words: 'Who, for instance, could seriously sing in church such stuff as the following Christmas Anthem or Carol, by T.P.? which Mr. William Childe (not yet made Doctor) had set to music.' Ahem! And so on, in stone-eyed, stone-eared stupidity.—Of modern celebrations I name as worthy of higher recognition than it has received the following 'Hymn to the Week above every Week,' by Thomas H. Gill; Lon., Mudie, 1844 (pp. 24). There is no little of the rich quaint matter and manner of our elder Singers in this fine Poem.

[31] Cf. vol. i. p. 143.

[32] Like Macaulay in his History of England (1st edition), Dr. Macdonald by an oversight speaks of Crashaw as 'expelled from Oxford,' instead of Cambridge (cf. our vol. i. p. 32).

[33] The Letter of Pope to Mr. Henry Cromwell is in all the editions of his Correspondence. Willmott (as before) also gives it in extenso. Of The Weeper Pope says: 'To confirm what I have said, you need but look into his first poem of The Weeper, where the 2d, 4th, 6th, 14th, 21st stanzas are as sublimely dull as the 7th, 8th, 9th, 16th, 17th, 20th, and 23d stanzas of the same copy are soft and pleasing. And if these last want anything, it is an easier and more unaffected expression. The remaining thoughts in that poem might have been spared, being either but repetitions, or very trivial and mean. And by this example one may guess at all the rest to be like this; a mixture of tender gentle thoughts and suitable expressions, of forced and inextricable conceits, and of needless fillers-up of the rest,' &c. &c. 'Sweet' is the loftiest epithet Pope uses for Crashaw, and that in the knowledge of the 'Suspicion of Herod.' In The Weeper he passes some of the very finest things. In his Abelard and Eloisa he incorporates felicities from Crashaw's 'Alexias' within inverted commas; but elsewhere is not very careful to mark indebtedness.

[34] He also quotes, as complete in themselves and 'best alone,' these two lines from No. LI.:

'This new guest to her eyes new laws hath given;
Twas once look up, 'tis now look down to heaven.'

Dr. Robert Wilde in his Epitaph upon E.T. has the same idea, and puts it quaintly:

'Reader, didst thou but know what sacred dust
Thou tread'st upon, thou'dst judge thyself unjust
Shouldst thou neglect a shower of tears to pay,
To wash the sin of thy own feet away.
That actor in the play, who, looking down
When he should cry 'O heaven!' was thought a clown
And guilty of a solecism, might have
Applause for such an action o'er this grave.
Here lies a piece of Heaven; and Heaven one day
Will send the best in heaven to fetch't away.'

(Hunt's edition, p. 30.)

[35] The 'conceit' is found in Vida's Christiad, lib. ii. 431, iii. 984: also in a Hymn of St. Ambrose. Cf. too Psalm lxvii. 16. Victor Hugo has adapted it as follows: 'Here is a whimsical explanation of the miracle of the wedding at Cana in Galilee:

La nymphe de ces eaux aperçut Jésus-Christ,
Et son pudique front de rougeur se couvrit.'

The nymph of these waters perceived Jesus Christ,
And her modest brow was dyed with shame.

(Victor Hugo: a Life, 1863, i. 269). Whence the brilliant Frenchman fetched his 'whimsical explanation' is not doubtful. In the last line of Crashaw's epigram the reading in Poemata Anglorum Latina is

'Vidit et erubuit nympha pudica Deum.'

'Lympha' is inferior, and a (mis)reading for 'nympha.'

[36] From Prolusiones of Strada.

[37] Gifford here has one of his many singular notes, because he could think of no other meaning than 'merriment' for 'mirth,' which, as 'joy' or 'gladness,' is quite in place, and indeed accurately descriptive of the combined gladness and sadness of the pathetic contest.

[38] Professor M'Carthy, who finds the influence of Crashaw in Shelley, has suggested one line from the 'Suspicion' as a motto for Hood's 'Song of the Shirt,' viz. in st. xliii.

'They prick a bleeding heart at every stitch.'

(N. and Q. 2d S. v. 449-52.)

[39] I place here a copy of the document that had gone astray (Vol. I. p. xxxv.): 'It results from a Papal Bull dated 24th April 1649, that Richard Crashaw, an Englishman, was admitted to a benefice ('Beneficiato') of the Basilica-Church of our Lady of Loreto, through strong interest in his favour by Cardinal Pallotta, then Protector of the so-called Holy House of Loreto, and in whose service Richard Crashaw was. But as it appears from another Bull dated 25th August 1649, that a successor was named to Richard Crashaw, it is evident that he was a Beneficiary in Loreto for only about three months—too short a time to furnish sufficient materials for the illustration of his biography.—N.B. A Beneficiary in ecclesiastical hierarchy is a grade under a Canon, and his duty in church is more assiduous than that of the Canon; but it is not necessary to be a Beneficiary before becoming a Canon.'

[40] See our Essay for notice of Lany. G.

[41] See our Essay in the present volume for notices of Lany. G.

[42] Perhaps a virgin-priestess being dedicated is intended. G.

[43] Balaami asinus. Cr.

[44] By a singular misprint Barksdale thus reads:

'The thief which bless'd upon the Cross with Me,' &c. G.

[45] Barksdale thus renders the first couplet:

'Magdalen! thou prevent'st the morning light; =anticipatest
But thy Sun was already in thy sight.' G.

[46] Phil. i. 23, τὴν ἐπιθυμίαν ἔχων εἰς τὸ ἀναλύσαι.

[47] Barksdale, as before, thus renders the latter couplet:

'All things subside by their own weight: I think
Thy lightness only, Peter, makes thee sink.'

[48] Christi scilicet. C. [The reference is to a runaway slave, whose punishment would be crucifixion. G.]

[49] Barksdale, as before, thus renders the latter couplet:

'After so many miracles done well,
He that believes not is a miracle.'

[50] Query: Is there a punning-play on Judas' 'All Hail' (i.e. All Hallow) before the Betrayal? G.

[51] Cf. Crashaw's own hitherto unpublished poem, amplifying the epigram, in 'Airelles,' vol. i. pp. 185-6. G.

[52] Barksdale, as before, thus renders the closing couplet:

'Thou receiv'st and receiv'st not Christ; for He
Comes not into thy house, but into thee.'

[53] Barksdale, as before, translates the last couplet thus:

'Enough! I have seen, have seen my Saviour:
Beside Thee, Christ, I would see nothing more.'

[54] Joan. vii. 46.

[55] Cf. our vol. i. pp. 50-1. G.

[56] See vol. i. pp. 47-8, for Crashaw's own poem enlarging the epigram. G.

[57] Barksdale thus renders the latter couplet:

'That Saul was blind, I will not say:
Sure Saul was captus lumine.'

[58] Ver. 24. Non enim mortua est puella, sed dormit. Cr.

[59] For Crashaw's own full rendering of this epigram, see our vol. i. pp. 48-9. G.

[60] Barksdale thus renders one couplet:

'See, O my guests, a Deity is here:
The chast nymph saw a God, and blusht for fear.'

For Dryden's and others, see our Essay in this volume. G.

[61] Barksdale, as before, thus renders the last couplet:

'To see Christ was first in my desire:
Next, having seen Thee, forthwith to expire.'

[62] Barksdale, as before, inserts an anonymous epigram on the same subject as supra, being the only one not by Crashaw in the volume. It is as follows: '40. Mulier Canaanitis. Matt. 15. Femina tam fortis, &c.

'O woman, how great is that faith of thine!
Fides more than a grammar's feminine.'

In another application, quaint old Dr. Worship, in his 'Earth raining upon Heaven' (1614), in rebuking the unfeminine boldness of the sex, says, 'Harke yee grammarians: Hic mulier ere long will be good Latin' (pp. 5, 6). G.

[63] For Crashaw's own rendering of this epigram or poem, see our vol. i. pp. 50-1. G.

[64] Cf. St. Matt. iv. 3. G.

[65] Joan. xix. 41. ἐν ᾧ οὐδέπω οὐδεὶς ἐτέθη Cr.

[66] Ver. 2. σεισμὸς ἐγένετο μέγας. Cr.

[67] Ver. 4. ἐσείσθησαν οἱ τηροῦντες, καὶ ἐγένοντο ὥσει νεκροί. Cr.

[68] Barksdale, as before, renders the closing couplet thus:

'Is He the Christ? And the inquiry is
Of Himself? Why, the dumb can answer this.'

[69] Barksdale, as before, renders the latter couplet. G.

[70]

Or—To the Jews it is not fire,
Yet the name best tells Heav'n's ire. G.

[71] Barksdale, as before, thus renders the last couplet:

'Most worthy nest this for the Bird above;
Most worthy of this nest is th' holy Dove.' G.

[72] Barksdale, as before, renders the latter couplet. G.

[73] Barksdale, as before, thus renders the latter couplet:

'These loaves of Christ are well bestow'd: if fed
With these, they hunger after living bread.' G.

[74] Barksdale, as before, thus renders the latter couplet:

'By your opposing force, Greeks, what is meant?
That you have no convincing argument.' G.

[75] Barksdale, as before, renders the latter couplet. G.

[76] Barksdale, as before, renders the opening couplet. G.

[77] = reckoning or debt to be paid. G.

[78] By an oversight Willmott renders ora 'regions' instead of 'eyes.' G.

[79] Barksdale thus renders the second couplet:

'This house a stable! No: Thy blessèd birth,
Jesus, converts it to a heaven on earth.' G.

[80] Barksdale, as before, thus renders the closing couplet:

'John is Christ's flame; Domitian, in thine ire,
Canst thou e'er hope with oil to extinguish fire?' G.

[81] Barksdale thus renders the latter couplet:

'Do, Dragon, do, thy snakes together call,
That by Christ's virtue they may perish all.' G.

[82] Barksdale, as before, thus renders the closing couplet:

'Shine forth, my Sun: soon as Thy beams are felt,
Thy gracious healing beams, my snow will melt.' G.

[83] Ver. 31. Sustulerunt lapides. Cr.

[84] ... Et continuo exivit sanguis et aqua. Cr.

[85] Act. i. Nubes susceptum eum abstulit. Cr.

[86] Crashaw must have stopped short in his Greek version of the present and succeeding epigram. G.

[87] Rev. i. 16. Cr.

[88] Is the allusion to Peter's following 'afar off,' and after-denial of the Lord? G.

[89] The allusion in l. 5 is to wrestlers anointing themselves to prevent their adversaries grasping them. R. Wi.

[90] See the above Epigram, with only a few verbal changes, at pp. 160-1, with translation by Rev. Richard Wilton. I add my own, as the inadvertent repetition was not observed until too late. G.

[91] This was overlooked in its proper place as Crashaw's own rendering of Epigram VI. p. 39. G.

[92] LVI. and LVII. from Tanner mss., as before. G.

[93] Ecclesia. Cr.

[94] Cf. Wordsworth's 'A faculty for storms' ('Happy Warrior'). G.

[95] ms. has no stop here, and leaves a space nearly wide enough for a line. Mr. Wilton has excellently supplied it. Doubtless it was left blank by Sancroft in order to consult the Text, or as unable to decipher the ms. G.

[96] I have ventured to supply a connecting line in place of the pentameter here dropt out; which might have been something like this:

'Inque brevi vita splendida facta micent.' R. Wi.

[97] From 'The Recommendation' illustration in 'Carmen D. nostro' (Paris, 1652). See vol. i. in 4to, p. 43. G.

[98] See Illustration (in 4to) by Mrs. Blackburn to ll. 13-14 as vignette in Essay. G.

[99] Query, in the heading (Latin), 'In Apollinem'? but 'Apollinea' is in all the texts. G.

[100] Appeared originally in 1648 edition (pp. 63-4), under the title of 'Elegia.' It was subsequently headed 'In eundem,' following the Epitaph-poem on Harris (see above). G.

[101] In agro Sudovolgorum.

[102] Nomen Elda (Cancrorum idiomate) [backwards].

[103] Pretium annuum haud invidendum, XXs.

[104] Patibulo, quod tribus constat lignis, arrectariis binis, et trabe transversa.

[105] Quattuor, quia equus quadrupes videbatur in eam sententiam quasi pedibus ire.

[106] Vulgo acquietantia.

[107] Organum est librite hydrobapticum ad omnium ripas situm, linguæ fervore refrigerando.

[108] The Common Pleas in Westminster Hall.

[109] A writ.

[110] The return of the writ [the morrow of All Souls].

[111] The plaintiff.

[112] Stylus curiae. Si quis alicui in jurgio pilum imminuerit, prodit tragica accusatio de insultu et vulnere, ita quod de ejus vita desperabatur. O forensem exaggerationem!

[113] It is not easy to bring-out the play on terga dabit—'terga dare' being equivalent to 'fugere'—and yet indicative of the boy's punishment on the back of the whipping-horse.

[114] Alluding to Pegasus, and the fountain caused by stroke of hoof.

[115] See Memorial-Introduction, vol. i., and our Essay in the present Volume, for notices of Brooke. G.

[116] See notice of Dr. Mansell in note to the translation. The present poem is printed by Mr. Searle in his 'History of the Queen's College &c.' 1871, pp. 448-9. G.

[117] 'John Mansel or Mansell was of the county of Lincoln, and was entered at the college (Queen's) as a sizar 29th March 1594, under Clement Smith, nephew of Sir Thomas Smith. He was B.A. 1597-8, was made scholar in 1598, and elected fellow of the college 31st June 1600. Romney and Bilsington, priories in Kent, were founded in 1257 by John Maunsell, provost of Beverley, treasurer of York, rector of Maidstone, Kent, and of Wigan, Lancashire; he was also Chief-justice of England. "I have seen a pedigree of the Mansels, from Philip de Mansel, who came in with the Conqueror, untill our times. Of this name and familie is that orthodoxall sound Divine and worthy Master of Queen's Colledge in Cambridge, John Mansel, Doctor of Divinitie, and a generall schollare in all good literature." (Weever, Fun. Mon. 273-4.) He commenced M.A. in 1601, and was B.D. in 1609. From the year 1604 to the year 1617 he seems to have been in residence, as he held various college offices and college lectureships in every year of that period. He was senior bursar for the two years 1609-10 and 1610-11. He was vicar of Hockington from 2d September 1614 to May 1616. He vacated his fellowship in the course of the year 1616-17, receiving his stipend for three and half weeks in the third quarter, so that he ceased to be fellow towards the end of July 1617. He became D.D. in 1622. He was elected president [of Queen's College] 29th April 1622.... Dr. Mansel died 7th October 1631.' (From Mr. Searle's 'History of the Queen's College &c.,' as before, pp. 447-8.) Agreeably to the heading, Dr. Samuel Brooke died September 1631 (MS. Baker xxvi. 167; Wood's Fasti (Bliss), pt. i. p. 400. Crashaw celebrated Brooke, as did Dr. Donne. See English Poems in vol. i., and Epitaphium onward. G.

[118] See notice of Heath in note to the translation. G.

[119] 'Lord' is titular, not of the peerage. Doubtless Crashaw celebrates Sir Robert Heath, Kt., who was successively Recorder of London, Solicitor-General, Attorney-General, and finally, 26th October 1631, Chief-Justice of the Common Pleas. From this post he appears to have been dismissed three years later; but in 1641 he was appointed a Judge of the King's Bench, and in 1643 Chief-Justice of that court, when he would be commonly called 'Lord Chief-Justice of England.' Being a Royalist, he fled into France in 1646, and died at Calais 30th August 1649. His remains were brought to England and buried at Brasted, Kent, in which church there is a fine monument. His age was seventy-five. G.

[120] That is, from the Scotch trip of 1663. This appeared in the University collection, 'Rex Redux' &c. (see Preface in present Volume), 1633. Among other contributors were Edward King ('Lycidas'), Thomas Randolph, Waller, and Henry More. G.

[121] The following is a note of Charles I.'s family:

Charles James, born May 13, 1628; died same day.

Charles, born May 29, 1630; afterwards Charles II.

Mary, born November 4, 1631; afterwards mother of William III.

James, born October 14, 1633; afterwards James II., probably the unborn child of this poem.

Elizabeth, born December 28, 1635; died of grief for her father 5th September 1650 (see Vaughan's fine poem to her memory, Works by us, s.n.).

Anne, born March 17, 1636-7; died December 8, 1640.

Henry, born July 8, 1640; afterwards Duke of Gloucester and Earl of Cambridge.

Henrietta-Anne, born June 16, 1644. G.

[122] The King (Charles I.) had the small-pox in 1632. This appeared originally in the University Collection on the occasion, 'Anthologia in Regis,' &c. (see Preface to present volume). Henry More and Edward King ('Lycidas') contributed also. G.

[123] See note to preceding poem. From Voces Votivæ &c. (see Preface to this volume). G.

[124] From 'Delights of the Muses,' 1648, pp. 47-8; not in Turnbull. G.

[125] Turnbull gives simply as the heading 'Natales Principis Mariae.' The date is Nov. 4, 1631. This Princess was born Nov. 4, 1631. G.

[126] From Tanner MS., as before; hitherto unprinted. See note to preceding poem. G.

[127] Originally headed 'Natalis Ducis Eboracensis;' but altered as above, as the English poem on this subject was so changed when other children were born, and the earlier title became inapplicable. Appeared originally in the University collection 'Ducis Eboracensis' &c. (see Preface in present volume). This was afterwards James II. G.

[128] On 'Peterhouse' see our Memorial-Introduction, vol. i. and Essay in the present volume. G.

[129] See Memorial-Introd. vol. i., and Essay in the present vol. as below. G.

[130] Apparently the churches in the gift of the College. W.

[131] John Tournay was of Kent: B.A. 1623; M.A. 1627; B.D. 1634; elected Fellow of Pembroke Hall 20th October 1627, and had the College title for orders the same year (Loder's Framlingham, p. 250). See our Essay in present volume on the group of College friends. G.

[132] See Memorial-Introduction, vol. i. and our Essay, for notices of Brooke; also present volume for other poems, &c. addressed to him. G.

[133] Dr. Samuel Brooke, brother of Christopher Brooke, author of sweet lines, as 'Tears,' and others. He died in September 1631. See note on Dr. Mansell ante. G.

[134] For notice of Herres or Harris, see Essay in the present volume. Curiously enough, in line 2, the original misprints 'tempe' for 'nempe,' as in the 'Bulla' is misprinted 'nempe' for 'tempe;' and onward 'morte' for 'mortem;' while 'Oratorem' and 'Poetam' are exchanged wrongly. In the heading too it is 'Dominum' for 'Gulielmum.' G.

[135] In 1648 (last four lines), l. 2 is misprinted 'Anglica nec' for 'Anglicana,' and l. 3 'militia' for 'malitia' of 1646 edition. There is some obscurity in the 'ad vesperas legit.' The intransitive use seems unusual, unless it means as above = the Anglican Church performs the evening service at the close of its day, or before it ceased to exist as the Church of the land. Laud was now commencing those innovations which led to the destruction of the Church of England. G.

[136] From 'Delights of the Muses,' after 'Upon the Death of Mr. Herrys' (of vol. i. pp. 220-1). Not given by Turnbull. G.

[137] For Crashaw's own translation of this see vol. i. p. 217. G.