Gloria lata Via. THOUGH life be short, and man doth, as the sun, His journey finish in a little space, The way is wide an honest course to run, That, at the last, do our just labours crown Nor can night's shadow, or the Stygian deep, Conceal fair Virtue from the world's wide eye; The more oppress'd, the more she strives to peep, And raise her rose-bound golden head on high: When epicures, the wretch, and worldly slave, Shall rot in shame, alive and in the grave. Nec in una sede morantur. THE awful sceptre, though it can compel But, Venus' infant! dread of all beneath! Imperious fear from my sweet saint remove, And with thy soft ambrosial kisses breathe Into her bosom meek and mildest love With melting pity from thy queen above: That she may read, and oft remember this, And learn to love, who most beloved is. Ad generosissimum et opt. spei juvenem Nobilem D. C. M. in Italiam nuperrime profectum. THE Spartan virgins, ere they had compos'd So ye, brave lord, who like the heavenly sphere Delight in motion, and about to roam, Must learn to mix in travel far and near With pleasure profit, that, returning home, Your skill and judgment more may make you known Than your French suit, or lock so largely grown. For who's he, that's not ravish'd with delight Troy walls, or Virgil's sweet Parthenope? Rura mihi et Silentium. [From 11 stanzas.] WERT thou thy life at liberty to choose, And, as thy birth, so, hadst thy being free, Thy solitary Academe should be Some shady grove upon the Thames' fair side; Such as we may near princely Richmond see, Or where along doth silver Severn slide, Or Avon courts fair Flora in her pride. There shouldst thou sit at long-desired rest, And think thyself above a monarch blest. There might'st thou sing thy sweet Creator's praise, And turn at quiet o'er some holy book, Or tune the accent of thy harmless lays Whiles round about thy greedy eye doth look, Observing wonders in some flower by, This bent, that leaf, this worm, that butterfly. Or, wouldst thou music to delight thine ear, Some mateless dove doth murmur out the base. Perfuming sweetly all the neighbour air, While thousand colours in a night are blown : Here's a light crimson, there a deeper one, A maiden's blush, here purples, there a white, Then all commingled for our more delight. Withal, as in some rare limn'd book, we find The daisy teacheth lowliness of mind, The camomile, we should be patient still, The rue, our hate of vice's poison ill, The woodbine, that we should our friendship hold, Our hope the savory in the bitterest cold. Yet, love the city, as the kindly nurse Where, though with good be intermixt the worse, Content thyself, till thine ability And better hap shall answer thy desire. The Author's Conclusion. [From 23 stanzas.] As then the sky was calm and fair, The winds did cease, and clouds were fled, Aurora scatter'd Phœbus' hair, New risen from her rosy bed: I At whose approach the harlot strew Both mead and mountain with her flowers, While Zephyr sweetest odours threw About the fields and leavy bowers. "Flora, sometime a famous harlot in Rome, and after goddess of flowers." 12 |