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第43节

lucasta-第43节

小说: lucasta 字数: 每页4000字

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ade By your religious care; and that his urn Doth him on earth immortal life return。 Your self you have a good physician shown To his much grieved friends and to your own; In giving this elixir'd medecine; For greatest grief a soveraign anodine。   Sir; from your Brother y' have convey'd us bliss; Now; since your genius so concurs with his; Let your own quill our next enjoyments frame; All must be rich; that's grac'd with Lovelace name。                Symon Ognell M。D。 Coningbrens。

 This person is not mentioned in Munk's Roll of the Royal College of Physicians; 1861。



                       ON THE       TRULY HONOURABLE COLL。 RICHARD LOVELACE; OCCASIONED BY THE PUBLICATION OF HIS POSTHUME…POEMS。

                       ELEGIE。

Great son of Mars; and of Minerva too! With what oblations must we come to woo Thy sacred soul to look down from above; And see how much thy memory we love; Whose happy pen so pleased amorous ears; And; lifting bright LUCASTA to the sphears; Her in the star…bespangled orb did set Above fair Ariadnes coronet; Leaving a pattern to succeeding wits; By which to sing forth their Pythonick fits。 Shall we bring tears and sighs? no; no! then we Should but bemone our selves for loosing thee; Or else thy happiness seem to deny; Or to repine at thy felicity。 Then; whilst we chant out thine immortal praise; Our offerings shall be onely sprigs of bays; And if our tears will needs their brinks out…fly; We'l weep them forth into an elegy; To tell the world; how deep fates wounded wit; When Atropos the lovely Lovelace hit! How th' active fire; which cloath'd thy gen'rous mind; Consum'd the water; and the earth calcin'd Untill a stronger heat by death was given; Which sublimated thy poor soul to heaven。 Thou knew'st right well to guide the warlike steed; And yet could'st court the Muses with full speed And such success; that the inspiring Nine Have fill'd their Thespian fountain so with brine。 Henceforth we can expect no lyrick lay; But biting satyres through the world must stray。 Bellona joyns with fair Erato too; And with the Destinies do keep adoe; Whom thus she queries: could not you awhile Reprieve his life; until another file Of poems such as these had been drawn up? The fates reply'd that thou wert taken up; A sacrifice unto the deities; Since things most perfect please their holy eyes; And that no other victim could be found With so much learning and true virtue crown'd。 Since it is so; in peace for ever rest; Tis very just that God should have the best。                     Sym。 Ognell M。D。 Coningbrens。



                ON MY BROTHER。

Lovelace is dead! then let the world return To its first chaos; mufled in its urn; The stars and elements together lye; Drench'd in perpetual obscurity; And the whole machine in confusion be; As immethodick as an anarchie。 May the great eye of day weep out his light; Pale Cynthia leave the regiment of night; The galaxia; all in sables dight; Send forth no corruscations to our sight; The Sister…Graces and the sacred Nine; Statu'd with grief; attend upon his shrine; Whose worth; whose loss; should we but truly rate; 'Twould puzzle our arithmetic to state Th' accompt of vertu's so transcendent high; Number and value reach infinity。 Did I pronounce him dead! no; no! he lives; And from his aromatique cell he gives Spice…breathed fumes; whose odoriferous scent (In zephre…gales which never can be spent) Doth spread it self abroad; and much out…vies The eastern bird in her self…sacrifice; Or Father Phoebus; who to th' world derives Such various and such multiformed lives; Took notice that brave Lovelace did inspire The universe with his Promethean fire; And snatcht him hence; before his thread was spun; En'ving that here should be another Sun。     T。 L。

 Thomas Lovelace; one of the poet's brothers。



  ON THE DEATH OF MY DEAR BROTHER。

             EPITAPH。

Tread (reader) gently; gently ore The happy dust beneath this floor: For in this narrow vault is set An alablaster cabinet; Wherein both arts and arms were put; Like Homers Iliads in a nut; Till Death with slow and easie pace Snatcht the bright jewell from the case; And now; transform'd; he doth arise A constellation in the skies; Teaching the blinded world the way; Through night; to startle into day: And shipwrackt shades; with steady hand; He steers unto th' Elizian land。                Dudley Posthumus…Lovelace。



               THE END。



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