Poems and songs by Thomas Flatman.

The Review. Pindarique Ode to the Reverend Dr. WILLIAM SANCROFT, now Lord Archbishop of Canterbury.

Stanza 1.

WHen first I stept into th' alluring Maze To tread this world's mysterious ways Alas! I had nor guide, nor clue, No Ariadne lent her hand, Not one of Vertue's Guards did bid me stand,

Or ask'd me what I meant to do, Or whither I would go: This Labyrinth so pleasant did appear, I lost my self with much content, Infinite hazards underwent, Out straggled Homer's crasty Wanderer, And ten years more than he, in fruitless Travels spent; The one half of my life is gone, The shadow the Meridian past; Death's dismal Evening drawing on, Which must with damps and mists be over cast, An Evening, that will surely come, 'Tis time, high time to give my self the welcome home.

II.

Had I but heartily believ'd, That all the Royal Preacher said, was true,

When first I entred on the Stage, And Vanity so hotly did pursue; Convinc'd by his experience, not my age, I had my self long since retriev'd, I should have let the Curtam down, Before the Fool's part had begun: But I throughout the tedious Play have been Concern'd in every busie Scene; Too too inquisitive I try'd Now this, anon another Face, And then a third, more odd, took place, Was every thing, but what I was. Such was my Protean folly, such my pride, Befool'd through all the Trage-Comedy, Where others met with hissing, to expect a Plau∣dite.

III.

I had a mind the Pastoral to prove, Searching for happiness in Love, And finding Venus painted with a Dove, A little naked Boy hard by, The Dove, which had no gall, The Boy no dangerous Arms at all; They do thee wrong (great Love) said I, Much wrong, great Love!—scarce had I spoke Ere into my unwary bosom came An inextinguishable flame: From fair Amira's eyes the lightning broke, That left me more than Thunder strook; She carries tempest in that lovely name: Love's mighty and tumultuous pain Disorder's Nature like an Hurricane. Yet could n't I believe such storms could be, When I launch'd forth to Sea;

Promis'd my self a calm, and easie way, Though I had seen before, Piteous ruines on the shore, And on the naked Beach Leander breathless lay.

IV.

To extricate my self from Love Which I could ill obey, but worse command, I took my Pencils in my hand, With that Artillery for Conquest strove, Like wise Pygmalion then did I My self design my Deity; Made my own Saint, made my own Shrine: If she did frown, one dash could make her smile, All bickerings one easie stroak could reconcile, Plato feign'd no Idea so divine: Thus did I quiet many a froward day, While in my eyes my Soul did play, Thus did the time, and thus my self beguile;

Till on a day, but then I knew not why, A tear faln from my eye, Wash'd out my Saint, my Shrine, my Deity: Prophetique chance; the lines are gone, And I must mourn o're what I doted on: I find even Giotto's Circle has not all perfection.

V.

To Poetry I then inclin'd; Verse that emancipates the mind, Verse that unbends the Soul; That Amulet of sickly same, Verse that from wind articulates a Name; Verse for both Fortunes fit, to smile and to condole. 'Ere I had long the Trial made, A serious thought made me afraid: For I had heard Parnassus sacred Hill, Was so prodigiously high, It's barren Top so near the skie;

Thd Aether there So very pure, so subtil, and so rare, 'Twould a Chamaeleon kill, The Beast that is all Lungs, and seeds on Air: Poëts the higher up that Hill they go, Like Pilgrims, share the less of what's below: Hence 'tis they ever go repining on, And murmure more than their own Helicon. I heard them curse their Stars in ponderous Rhimes And in grave numbers grumble at the times; Yet where th' Illustrious Cowley led the way, I thought it great discretion there to go astray.

VI.

From liberal Arts to the litigious Law, Obedience, not Ambition, did me draw; I look'd at awful Quoif, and Scarlet Gown Through others Opticks, not my own:

Unty the Gordian Knot that will, I see no Rhetorick at all In them that learnedly can brawl, And fill with mercenary breath the spacious Hall; Let me be peaceable, let me be still. The solitary Tisbite heard the wind, With strength and violence combin'd, That rent the Mountains, and did make The solid Earth's Foundations shake, He saw the dreadful fire, and heard the horrid noise, But found what he expected in the small still voice.

VII.

Nor here did my unbridled fancy rest, But I must try A pitch more high, To read the starry Language of the East; And with Chaldean Curiosity Presum'd to solve the Riddles of the Skie;

Impatient till I knew my doom, Dejected till the good direction come, I rip'd up Fate's forbidden Womb, Nor would I stay till it brought forth An easie and a natural birth, But was solicitous to know The yet mishapen Embrio, (Preposterous crime!) Without the formal Midwifry of time: Fond man! as if too little grief were given On Earth, draws down inquietudes from Heaven! Permits himself with fear to be unmann'd, Belshazzar-like, grows wan and pale, His very heart begins to fail, Is frighted at that Writing of the hand, Which yet nor he, not all his learn'd Magicians understand.

VIII.

And now at last what's the result of all? Should the strict Audit come, And forth' Account too early call; A num'rous heap of Ciphers, would be found the total Sum. When incompassionate Age shall plow The delicate Amira's brow, And draw his furrows deep and long, What hardy Youth is he Will after that a Reaper be, Or sing the Harvest Song? And what is Verse, but an effeminate vent Either of Lust or Discontent? Colours will starve, and all their Glories die, Invented only to deceive the eye; And he that wily Law does love, Much more of Serpent has than Dove,

There's nothing in Astrology, But Delphick ambiguity; We are misguided in the Dark, and thus Each Star becomes an Ignis fatuus: Yet pardon me ye glorious Lamps of light, 'T was one of you that led the way, Dispell'd the gloomy night, Became a Phosphor to th' Eternal day, And shew'd the Magi where the Almighty Infant lay.

IX.

At length the doubtful Victo y's won, It was a cunning Ambuscade The World for my felicities had laid; Yet now at length the day's our own, Now Conquerour-like let us new Laws set down. Henceforth let all our Love Seraphick The sprightly and the vigorous slame On th' Altar let it ever burn, And sacrifice its ancient name:

A Tablet on my heart, next I'le prepare Where I would draw the Holy Sepulchre, Behind it a soft Landskip I would lay Of melancholy Golgotha! On th' Altar let me all my spoils lay down, And if I had one, there I'de hang my Laurel Crown. Give me the Pandects of the Law Divine, Such was the Law made Moses face to shine. Thus beyond Saturn's heavy Orb I'le towre, And laugh at his malicious power: Raptur'd in Contemplation thus I'le go Above unactive Earth, and leave the Stars below.

X.

Tost on the wings of every wind, After these hoverings to and fro; (And still the waters higher grow) Not knowing where a resting place to find,

Whither for Sanctuary should I go But (Reverend Sir) to you? You that have triumph'd o're th' impetuous flood, That Noah-like, in bad times durst be good, And the stiff Torrent manfully withstood, Can save me too; One that have long in fear of drowing bin, Surrounded by the rolling waves of sin; Do you but reach out a propitious hand And charitably take me in, I will not yet despair to see dry land, 'Tis done;—and I no longer fluctuate, I've made the Church my Ark, and Sions Hill my Ararat,