Poemata (William Cowper, trans.).

by John Milton.

To John Milton, English Gentleman.

An Ode.

Exalt Me, Clio,1 to the skies, That I may form a starry crown, Beyond what Helicon supplies In laureate garlands of renown; To n.o.bler worth be brighter glory given, And to a heavenly mind a recompense from heaven.

Time's wasteful hunger cannot prey On everlasting high desert, Nor can Oblivion steal away Its record graven on the heart; Lodge but an arrow, Virtue, on the bow That binds my lyre, and death shall be a vanquished foe.

In Ocean's blazing flood enshrined.

Whose va.s.sal tide around her swells, Albion. from other realms disjoined, The prowess of the world excels; She teems with heroes that to glory rise, With more than human force in our astonished eyes.

To Virtue, driven from other lands, Their bosoms yield a safe retreat; Her law alone their deed commands, Her smiles they feel divinely sweet; Confirm my record, Milton, generous youth!

And by true virtue prove thy virtue's praise a truth.

Zeuxis, all energy and flaine, Set ardent forth in his career, Urged to his task by Helen's fame, Resounding ever in his ear; To make his image to her beauty true, From the collected fair each sovereign charm he drew.2

The bee, with subtlest skill endued, Thus toils to earn her precious juice, From all the flowery myriads strewed O'er meadow and parterre profuse; Confederate voices one sweet air compound, And various chords consent in one harmonious sound.

An artist of celestial aim, Thy genius, caught by moral grace, With ardent emulation's flame The steps of Virtue toiled to trace, Observed in everv land who brightest shone, And blending all their best, make perfect good thy own.

Front all in Florence born, or taught Our country's sweetest accent there, Whose works, with learned labor wrought, Immortal honors justly share, Then hast such treasure drawn of purest ore, That not even Tuscan bards can boast a richer store.

Babel, confused, and with her towers Unfinished spreading wide and plain, Has served but to evince thy powers, With all hot, tongues confused in vain, Since not alone thy England's purest phrase, But every polished realm thy various speech displays.

The secret things of heaven and earth, By nature, too reserved. concealed From other minds of highest worth, To thee ate copiously revealed; Thou knowest them clearly, and thy views attain The utmost bounds prescribed to moral truth's domain.

Let Time no snore his wing display, And boast his ruinous career, For Virtue, rescued front his sway.

His injuries may cease to fear; Since all events that claim remembrance find A chronicle exact in thy capacious mind.

Give me, that I may praise thy song, Thy lyre, by which alone I can, Which, placing thee the stars among, Already proves thee more than man; And Thames shall seem Permessus,3 while his stream Graced with a swan like thee. shall be my favorite theme.

I, who beside the Arno, strain To match thy merit with my lays, Learn, after many an effort vain, To admure thee rather than to praise; And that by mute astonishment alone, Not by the fathering tongue, thy worth may best be shown.

--Signor Antonio Francini, Gentleman, of Florence.

1 The muse of History.

2 The portrait of Helen was painted at the request of the people of Crotna, who sent to the artist all their lovliest girls for models. Zeuxis selected five, and united their separate beauties in his picture.

3 A river in Boeotia which took its rise in Helicon. See Virgil Ecl. vi.64

To Mr. John Milton of London

A youth eminent from his country and his virtues,

Who in his travels has made himself acquainted with many nations, and in his studies, with all, that, life another Ulysses, lie might learn all that all could teach him;

Skilful in many tongues, on whose lips languages now mute so live again, that the idioms of all are insufficient to his praise; happy acquisition by which he understands the universal admiration and applause his talents trace excited;

Whose endowments of mind and person move us to wonder, but at the same time fix us immovable: whose works prompt us to extol him, but by their beauty strike us mute;

In whose memory the whole world is treasured; in whose intellect, wisdom; in whose heart, the ardent desire for glory; and in whose mouth, eloquence. Who with Astronomy for his conductor, hears the music of the spheres; with Philosophy for the teacher, deciphers the hand-writing of G.o.d, in those wonders of creation which proclaim His greatness; and with the most unwearied literary industry for his a.s.sociate, examines, restores, penetrates with case the obscurities of antiquity, the desolations of ages, and the labyrinths of learning;

"But wherefore toil to reach these arduous heights?"

To him, in short, whose virtues the mouths of Fame are too few to celebrate, and whom astonishment forbids us to praise a he deserves, this tribute due to his merits, and the offering of reverence and affection, is paid by Carlo Dati, a patrician Florentine.

This great man's servant, and this good man's friend.

In Miltonum.1

Tres tria, sed longe distantia, saecula vates Ostentant tribus e gentibus eximios.

Graecia sublimem, c.u.m majestate disertum Roma tulit, felix Anglia utrique parem.

Partubus ex binis Natura exhausta, coacta est, Tertis ut fieret, consociare duos.

--Joannem Dridenum.

1 Translation of Dryden's Lines Printed Under the Engraved Portrait of Milton in Tonson's Folio Edition of "Paradise Lost," I688.

Stanzas on the Late Indecent Liberties Taken with the Remains of the Great Milton, by Wm. Cowper, Esq.1

Me too, perchance, in future days, The sculptur'd stone shall show, With Paphian myrtle, or with bays Parnessian, on my brow.

But I, before that season come, Escap'd from ev'ry care, Shall reach my refuge in the tomb, And sleep securely there.

So sang in Roman tone and style The youthful bard, ere long Ordain'd to grace his native isle With her sublimest song.

Who then but must conceive disdain, Hearing the deed unblest Of wretches who have dar'd profane His dread sepulchral rest?

Ill fare the hands that heav'd the stones Where Milton's ashes lay!

That trembled not to grasp his bones.

And steal his dust away!

Oh! ill-requited bard! Neglect Thy living worth repaid, And blind idolatrous respect As much affronts thee dead.

1 This shocking outrage took place in I790 whilst the Church of St. Giles, Cripplegate, was repairing. The overseers (for the sake of gain) opened a coffin supposed to be Milton's, found a body, extracted its teeth, cut off its hair, and left the remains to the grave-diggers, who exhibited them for money to the public.

Forsitan & nostros ducat de marmore vultus, Nectens aut Paphia myrti aut Parna.s.side lauri Fronde comas, at ego secura pace quiescam.

--Milton. "Mansus" ("Manso")

Cowper's translation :

To honour me, and with the graceful wreath Or of Parna.s.sus or the Paphian isle Shall bind my brows--but I shall rest the while."