N° XLIV. On the Latin Poems of Cowley. THE Latin poems of Cowley, which are not I think some of my readers will not be dis- P First printed 1668, 8vo. in which are included, Plantarum Habeo quod carmine sanet herbis. Ovid Metam. 10. Huic editioni secundæ accessit Index Rerum antebac desideratus. 9 See Johnson's Lives of the Poets, and Warton's Preface more willingly, because I have heard it objected, I think, with too narrow views, that my ruminations are not sufficiently confined to subjects of literature. Limits I have always imposed on myself, which have restrained me from discussing many topics of life and manners, that would both have been pleasing to myself, and have given a greater diversity to my pages. But there are those who would confine me within bounds, to which I cannot submit to be chained. Cowley is never more eloquent than when he descants on the pleasures of Solitude, whether in Latin or English. "Solitudo. "Rura laudamus merito poetæ, Nubilus aer. Nam prius crescet seges in plateis, Sponte nascentes, prius ipsa civis Fiet et herba. T Urbe quam surgat media bonorum Rure, Persarum veluti tyrannus, Arbores salvete, bonæque sylvæ, Hic jacens vestris temere sub umbris, O sacrum risum juvenilis anni! Cum calor totos penetrans per artus Suscitat orbis. q This is a translation of some beautiful lines in his English poem on Solitude. "Here let me careless and unthoughtful lying, Hear the soft winds above me flying, With all their wanton boughs dispute." T Hic mihi æstivo domus apta sole, Audiam hic proni per aprica collis Esse qui secum nequit occupatus, Tædio, aut caras male collocabit Prodigus horast "Here Nature does a house for me erect, Nature, the wisest architect, Who those fond artists does despise, That can the fair and living trees neglect; Ibid. "A silver stream shall roll his waters near, "Ah wretched and too solitary he, Ibid. Tu Deum longis comitata sæclis Impetus mentis nimium evagantes Languidos mentis fluida calores, Et nimis multum spacii occupantes * Rite constringensque fovensque pulchros Elicis ignes y u "Tho' God himself, thro' countless ages, thee His sole companion chose to be, Thee, sacred solitude alone, Before the branchy head of numbers three Sprang from the trunk of one." Ibid. * "Thou, tho' men think thine an unactive part, Which else would know no settled pace, Ibid. y "Thou the faint beams of reason's scatter'd light Dost like a burning glass unite, Dost multiply the feeble heat, And fortify the strength, till thou dost bright And noble fires beget." Ibid. |