3 Our life is carried with too strong a tide, A doubtful cloud our substance bears, And is the horse of all our years: Each day doth on a winged whirlwind ride. 4 But his past life who without grief can see, Who never thinks his end too near, But says to Fame, Thou art mine heir; ON THE PRAISE OF POETRY. 'Tis not a pyramid of marble stone, Though high as our ambition; 'Tis not a tomb cut out in brass, which can Give life to the ashes of a man, But verses only; they shall fresh appear, Whilst there are men to read or hear, When time shall make the lasting brass decay, And eat the pyramid away, Turning that monument wherein men trust Their names, to what it keeps, poor dust; Then shall the epitaph remain, and be New graven in eternity. Poets by death are conquered, but the wit Of poets triumph over it. What cannot verse? When Thracian Orpheus took His lyre, and gently on it strook, The learned stones came dancing all along, And kept time to the charming song. With all the better trees which erst had stood The laurel to the poet's hand did bow, And every loving arm embraced, and made The beasts, too, strove his auditors to be, The fearful hart next to the lion came, Who, when their little windpipes they had found O'ercome by art and grief, they did expire, Happy, oh happy they! whose tomb might be, THE MOTTO. TENTANDA VIA EST, ETC. What shall I do to be for ever known, Whilst others great by being born are grown, In this scale gold, in the other fame does lie; These men are Fortune's jewels, moulded bright, Out of myself it must be strook. Yet I must on: What sound is 't strikes mine ear? Sure I Fame's trumpet hear : It sounds like the last trumpet, for it can Raise up the buried man. Unpass'd Alps stop me, but I'll cut through all, And march, the Muse's Hannibal. Hence, all the flattering vanities that lay Nets of roses in the way; Hence, the desire of honours or estate, And all that is not above Fate; Hence, Love himself, that tyrant of my days, Which intercepts my coming praise. Come, my best friends! my books! and lead me on, "Tis time that I were gone. Welcome, great Stagyrite! and teach me now All I was born to know: Thy scholar's victories thou dost far outdo; and wit Preserves Rome's greatness yet; Thou art the first of orators; only he But you have climb'd the mountain's top, there sit On the calm flourishing head of it, And whilst, with wearied steps, we upward go, DAVIDEIS. BOOK II. THE CONTENTS. The friendship betwixt Jonathan and David; and, upon that occasion, a digression concerning the nature of love. A discourse between Jonathan and David, upon which the latter absents himself from court, and the former goes thither to inform himself of Saul's resolution. The feast of the Newmoon; the manner of the celebration of it; and therein a digression of the history of Abraham. Saul's speech upon David's absence from the feast, and his anger against Jonathan. David's resolution to fly away. He parts with Jonathan, and falls asleep under a tree. A description of Fancy. An angel makes up a vision in David's head. The vision itself; which is a prophecy of all the succession of his race, till Christ's time, with their most remarkable actions. At his awaking, Gabriel assumes a human shape, and confirms to him the truth of his vision. But now the early birds began to call The morning forth; up rose the sun and Saul: Both, as men thought, rose fresh from sweet repose; For in Saul's breast Envy, the toilsome sin, But Jonathan his son, and only good, Then destined in the glories of his look: He saw, and straight was with amazement strook, What art thou, Love! thou great mysterious thing? From hence thou tookst thy rise, and wentst that way; |