When gracefully thou speak'st, or singest gay
Such strains as might the senseless forest move,
Ah then—turn each his eyes and ears away,
Who feels himself unworthy of thy love!
Grace can alone preserve him, e'er the dart
Of fond desire yet reach his inmost heart.
As on a hill–top rude, when closing day
Imbrowns the scene, some past'ral maiden fair
Waters a lovely foreign plant with care,
That scarcely can its tender bud display
Borne from its native genial airs away,
So, on my tongue these accents new and rare
Are flow'rs exotic, which Love waters there,
While thus, o sweetly scornful! I essay
Thy praise in verse to British ears unknown,
And Thames exchange for Arno's fair domain;
So Love has will'd, and oftimes Love has shown
That what He wills he never wills in vain.
Oh that this hard and steril breast might be
To Him who plants from heav'n, a soil as free.
Canzone.
They mock my toil—the nymphs and am'rous swains—
And whence this fond attempt to write, they cry,
Love–songs in language that thou little know'st?
How dar'st thou risque to sing these foreign strains?
Say truly. Find'st not oft thy purpose cross'd,
And that thy fairest flow'rs, Here, fade and die?
Then with pretence of admiration high—
Thee other shores expect, and other tides,
Rivers on whose grassy sides
Her deathless laurel–leaf with which to bind
Thy flowing locks, already Fame provides;
Why then this burthen, better far declin'd?
Speak, Canzone! for me.—The Fair One said who guides
My willing heart, and all my Fancy's flights,
"This is the language in which Love delights."
To Charles Diodati.
Charles—and I say it wond'ring—thou must know
That I who once assum'd a scornful air,
And scoff'd at love, am fallen in his snare
(Full many an upright man has fallen so)
Yet think me not thus dazzled by the flow
Of golden locks, or damask cheek; more rare
The heart–felt beauties of my foreign fair;
A mien majestic, with dark brows, that show
The tranquil lustre of a lofty mind;
Words exquisite, of idioms more than one,
And song, whose fascinating pow'r might bind,
And from her sphere draw down the lab'ring Moon,
With such fire–darting eyes, that should I fill
My ears with wax, she would enchant me still.
Lady! It cannot be, but that thine eyes
Must be my sun, such radiance they display
And strike me ev'n as Phoebus him, whose way
Through torrid Libya's sandy desert lies.
Meantime, on that side steamy vapours rise
Where most I suffer. Of what kind are they,
New as to me they are, I cannot say,
But deem them, in the Lover's language—sighs.
Some, though with pain, my bosom close conceals,
Which, if in part escaping thence, they tend
To soften thine, they coldness soon congeals.
While others to my tearful eyes ascend,
Whence my sad nights in show'rs are ever drown'd,
'Till my Aurora comes, her brow with roses bound.
Enamour'd, artless, young, on foreign ground,
Uncertain whither from myself to fly,
To thee, dear Lady, with an humble sigh
Let me devote my heart, which I have found
By certain proofs not few, intrepid, sound,
Good, and addicted to conceptions high:
When tempests shake the world, and fire the sky,
It rests in adamant self–wrapt around,
As safe from envy, and from outrage rude,
From hopes and fears, that vulgar minds abuse,
As fond of genius, and fix'd fortitude,
Of the resounding lyre, and every Muse.
Weak you will find it in one only part,
Now pierc'd by Love's immedicable dart.[168]
Appendix
Cowper's Translation of Andrew Marvell's "to Christina, Queen of Sweden," Etc
To Christina, Queen of Sweden, with Cromwell's Picture.[169]
Christina, maiden of heroic mien!
Star of the North! of northern stars the queen!
Behold, what wrinkles I have earn'd, and how
The iron cask still chafes my vet'ran brow,
While following fate's dark footsteps, I fulfill
The dictates of a hardy people's will.
But soften'd, in thy sight, my looks appear,
Not to all Queens or Kings alike severe.
Appendix
Poems From the Latin Prose Works. Translated by Various Hands
Epigram From "Pro Populo Anglicano Defensio" (1650).
Translated by Joseph Washington (1692).
On Salmasius's "Hundreda."
Who taught Salmasius, the French chatt'ring Pye,[170]
To try at English, and "Hundreda"[171] cry?
The starving Rascal, flush'd with just a Hundred
English Jacobusses,[172] "Hundreda" blunder'd.
An outlaw'd King's last stock.—a hundred more,
Would make him pimp for th'Antichristian Whore;[173]
And in Rome's praise employ his poison'd Breath,
Who once threatn'd to stink the Pope to death.
Epigrams from the "Defensio Secunda" (1654).
Translated by Robert Fellowes (1878?).
On Salmasius.
Rejoice, ye herrings, and ye ocean fry,
Who, in cold winter, shiver in the sea;
The knight, Salmasius,[174] pitying your hard lot,
Bounteous intends your nakedness to clothe,
And, lavish of his paper, is preparing
Chartaceous jackets to invest you all,
Jackets resplendent with his arms and fame,
Exultingly parade the fishy mart,
And sing his praise with checquered, livery,
That well might serve to grace the letter'd store
Of those who pick their noses and ne'er read.
[Lines Concerning Alexander More.][175]
O Pontia, teeming with More's Gallic seed,
You have been Mor'd[176]enough, and no More need.
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It has ever been thought difficult for an author to speak gracefully of himself, especially in commendation; but Milton, who was gifted with powers to overcome difficulties, of every kind, is eminently happy in this particular. He has spoken frequently of himself both in verse and prose, and he continually shows that he thought highly of his own endowments; but if he praises himself, he does it with that dignified frankness and simplicity of conscious truth, which renders even egotism respectable and delightfuclass="underline" whether he describes the fervent and tender emotions of his juvenile fancy, or delineates his situation in the decline of life, when he had to struggle with calamity and peril, the more insight he affords us into his own sentiments and feelings, the more reason we find both to love, and revere him.—W.C.
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Written on Cromwell's behalf, this poem was originally attr. to Milton, hence Cowper's inclusion of it. It has since been recognized as the work of Marvell.
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Salmasius attempted to do certain English words in his Latin. A "Hundred" was a division of an English shire.
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The Jacobus was a gold coin named for James I.
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Salmasius attacked the Pope in "De Primatu Papae" in 1645.
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Wrongly attr. to Milton, who prefaced these lines with, "Ingenii, hoc distochon" [Some ingenious person wrote this distich]. Milton wrongly believed More to be the author of a libel against him.
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It is impossible to give a literally exact rendering of this. I have played upon the name as well as I could in English.—R.F.