Long since, i.e., in the "Pastoral upon the Birth of Prince Charles" ([213]), where see [Note].
612. THE BAD SEASON MAKES THE POET SAD.
Dull to myself, and almost dead to these
My many fresh and fragrant mistresses;
Lost to all music now, since everything
Puts on the semblance here of sorrowing.
Sick is the land to the heart, and doth endure
More dangerous faintings by her desp'rate cure.
But if that golden age would come again,
And Charles here rule, as he before did reign;
If smooth and unperplexed the seasons were,
As when the sweet Maria lived here:
I should delight to have my curls half drown'd
In Tyrian dews, and head with roses crown'd;
And once more yet, ere I am laid out dead,
Knock at a star with my exalted head.
Knock at a star (sublimi feriam sidera vertice). Horace Ode, i. 1.
613. TO VULCAN.
Thy sooty godhead I desire
Still to be ready with thy fire;
That should my book despised be,
Acceptance it might find of thee.
614. LIKE PATTERN, LIKE PEOPLE.
This is the height of justice: that to do
Thyself which thou put'st other men unto.
As great men lead, the meaner follow on,
Or to the good, or evil action.
615. PURPOSES.
No wrath of men or rage of seas
Can shake a just man's purposes:
No threats of tyrants or the grim
Visage of them can alter him;
But what he doth at first intend,
That he holds firmly to the end.