Miscellany poems containing a new translation of Virgills eclogues, Ovid's love elegies, odes of Horace, and other authors : with several original poems / by the most eminent hands.
About this Item
- Title
- Miscellany poems containing a new translation of Virgills eclogues, Ovid's love elegies, odes of Horace, and other authors : with several original poems / by the most eminent hands.
- Publication
- London :: Printed for Jacob Tonson ...,
- 1684.
- Rights/Permissions
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- Subject terms
- Classical poetry -- Translations into English.
- English poetry -- Translations from Greek.
- English poetry -- Translations from Latin.
- English poetry -- Early modern, 1500-1700.
- Cite this Item
-
"Miscellany poems containing a new translation of Virgills eclogues, Ovid's love elegies, odes of Horace, and other authors : with several original poems / by the most eminent hands." In the digital collection Early English Books Online. https://name.umdl.umich.edu/A36650.0001.001. University of Michigan Library Digital Collections. Accessed May 6, 2024.
Pages
Page 106
And th' latter line, thô near of that same Kind,
Is forc'd to limp and hault behind.
Poets the Muses should obey, not thee;
Who gave thee then this Tyranny?
Who did to th' cruel Boy the power permit
Both to Command us, and our Wit?
The pointed Spear soft Venus should not move;
Nor warlike Pallas deal in Love;
Upon the Mountains Ceres should not reign;
Nor should Diana Till the plain;
Nor should Apollo come to the bloudy fray;
Or Mars upon the Harp to play:
Too large thy Empire, and too great thy power;
Does thy Ambition aim at more?
Wouldst thou the Muses too Controll, vain Boy;
Nor let their King his Harp Enjoy?
To loftier things, said I, my thoughts I raise
Than Boy's or viler Woman's praise:
In vain I strove to Sing of lofty things,
He Lur'd me down and Clipt my Wings;
Yet froward I, and Stubborn still remain'd,
And struggl'd much and much Complain'd;
Page 107
With that his Stout and well-strong Bow he bent,
From thence a mighty Arrow sent.
Strong was the fatal Bow, the Arrow fleet,
And now (vain Man!) said he now write.
Ah me! the Bow was strong, the Arrow sure,
Witness the torments I endure.
Against such force what Man can keep the Field?
I yeild, Great God, cry'd I, I yeild:
At thy Command, dread Conquerer, to Sing
Or any way, or any thing.