Posts tagged ‘1709’

Tuesday, 19 January 2016

The Wish. In a Letter to Mr. Needler. Sent from Cambridge, 1709 by William Duncombe

O! would that sister of th’ Aonian choir,
Who pour’d on Cowley’s soul ecstatic fire,
Inflame my breast, and my weak fancy raise,
To soar, like him, in enthusiastic lays,
Smooth as the Cam my tuneful verse should flow,
Not swell too high, nor ever sink too low;
Like him I boldly would ascend the sky,
And sing the charms of fair Philosophy!
How void of cares, ev’n from life’s flowery prime,
To languid age, her pupils pass their time!
From sorrow and perplexing business free,
They taste the sweets of virtuous Liberty;
And in their shady walks, and silent bowers,
In contemplation spend their gliding hours.
With Reason’s line, these vainly try to sound
Of Deity immense th’ abyss profound,
Yet learn enough their Maker to adore,
His bounties bless, and humbly hope for more.
Those pensive wander through the silent grove,
And o’er Parnassus’ verdant meadows rove.
On yon old domes with sacred awe I gaze,
Where Dryden first essay’d his tuneful lays;
Where Milton’s Muse her inspiration caught,
And fancy first her darling Spenser taught.
O! might I here inglorious spend my days,
Averse to busy care, nor fond of praise;
The ancient Sages’ moral page peruse,
And sometimes listen to the cheerful Muse:
Here Nature through her various windings chase,
And to the fountain-head with wonder trace:
Here trim my lamp, my faculties refine,
And deck my soul with every grace divine;
Till fit to join in heavenly hymns above,
By humble Virtue, and victorious Love,
This mouldering clay, contented, I might leave,
And at the last a fadeless crown receive!


Date: 1709

By: William Duncombe (1690-1769)

Thursday, 23 January 2014

Ode by Elizabeth Taylor Wythens Colepeper

Ah poor Olinda, never boast
Of Charms that have thy Freedom cost,
They threw at Hearts, and thine was lost.

Yet let none thy Ruin blame,
His Wit first blew thee to a Flame,
And fann’d it with the Wings of Fame!

ln vain I do his Person shun,
I cannot from his Glory run,
‘Tis universal as the Sun!

In Crouds, his Praises fill my Ear!
Alone, his Genius does appear!
He like a God, is e’ery where!

From: Manley, Delariveiere, Secret Memoirs and Manners of Several Persons of Quality, of Both Sexes from the New Tlantis, Island in the Mediteranean; Written Originally in Italian, Volume 2, 1736, J. Watson: London, pp. 257-258.

Date: 1709

By: Elizabeth Taylor Wythens Colepeper (before 1670-1708)