Messis inauravit Cereri jam quarta capillos,Vitis habet Bacchum quarta corona suae,Nostra ex quo, primis plumae vix alba pruinis,Ausa tuo Musa est nidificare sinu.Hic nemus, hic soles, et coelum mitius illi;5Hic sua quod Musis umbra vel aura dedit.Sedit ibi secura malus quid moverit Auster,Quae gravis hibernum vexerit ala Jovem.Nescio quo interea multum tibi murmure nota est:Nempe sed hoc poteras murmur amare tamen.10Tandem ecce, heu simili de prole puerpera! tandemHoc tenero tenera est pignore facta parens.Jamque meam hanc sobolem, rogo, quis sinus alter haberet?Quis mihi tam noti nempe teporis erat?Sed quoque et ipsa meus, de te, meus, improba, tutor,15Quam primum potuit dicere, dixit, erit.Has ego legitimae, nec laevo sidere nataeNon puto degeneres indolis esse notas;Nempe quod illa suo patri tam semper apertos,Tam semper faciles norit adire sinus.20Ergo tuam tibi sume: tuas eat illa sub alas:Hoc quoque de nostro, quod tuearis, habe.Sic quae Suada tuo fontem sibi fecit in ore,Sancto et securo melle perennis eat.Sic tua, sic nullas Siren non mulceat aures,25Aula cui plausus et sua serta dedit.Sic tuus ille, precor, Tagus aut eat obice nullo,Aut omni, quod adhuc, obice major eat.
Messis inauravit Cereri jam quarta capillos,Vitis habet Bacchum quarta corona suae,Nostra ex quo, primis plumae vix alba pruinis,Ausa tuo Musa est nidificare sinu.Hic nemus, hic soles, et coelum mitius illi;5Hic sua quod Musis umbra vel aura dedit.Sedit ibi secura malus quid moverit Auster,Quae gravis hibernum vexerit ala Jovem.Nescio quo interea multum tibi murmure nota est:Nempe sed hoc poteras murmur amare tamen.10Tandem ecce, heu simili de prole puerpera! tandemHoc tenero tenera est pignore facta parens.Jamque meam hanc sobolem, rogo, quis sinus alter haberet?Quis mihi tam noti nempe teporis erat?Sed quoque et ipsa meus, de te, meus, improba, tutor,15Quam primum potuit dicere, dixit, erit.Has ego legitimae, nec laevo sidere nataeNon puto degeneres indolis esse notas;Nempe quod illa suo patri tam semper apertos,Tam semper faciles norit adire sinus.20Ergo tuam tibi sume: tuas eat illa sub alas:Hoc quoque de nostro, quod tuearis, habe.Sic quae Suada tuo fontem sibi fecit in ore,Sancto et securo melle perennis eat.Sic tua, sic nullas Siren non mulceat aures,25Aula cui plausus et sua serta dedit.Sic tuus ille, precor, Tagus aut eat obice nullo,Aut omni, quod adhuc, obice major eat.
TRANSLATION.
TO THE VENERABLE MAN MASTER TOURNAY,
MY TUTOR MOST REVERED.[131]
A fourth time now our glebe for Ceres bearsThe golden locks of harvest; Bacchus wearsNow the fourth season his bright vine-leaf crown,Since, scant'ly hoar as yet with the soft downOf her first plumage, in thy gentle breastMy young Muse dar'd to build herself a nest.Here found she sun and shade and gentler heaven,And what with these is by the Muses givenWere hers. Here sat she careless how the skiesMight darken, or the blasts of winter rise;And here her voice reach'd thee, but by what moveOf fate I know not, only that thy loveHer voice did win; and now at length behold—And ah, how much the child her arms enfoldIs like the mother!—she in tender yearsThe parent of a tender babe appears.What lap, then, for this infant shall I findFitter than thine, or known by me so kind?Yea, soon as she could speak, the wanton, sheSaid, 'He shall be my guardian,' meaning thee;And no ill forecast I would deem is thisOf Genius true and favouring deities,That she so early should a sire divineAlways so open, always so benign.Take, then, thine own—she is beneath thy wing—And of this gift accept the offering.So may Persuasion, who her fount has madeUpon thy lips, still pour from thence unstay'dHer sacred honey; so be at the Court,Whereto with plausive wreaths she doth resort,No ears thy Siren move not; so, I pray,No hindering bar thy Tagus strive to stay,Or only such as erst thy stream has swept away.Cl.
A fourth time now our glebe for Ceres bearsThe golden locks of harvest; Bacchus wearsNow the fourth season his bright vine-leaf crown,Since, scant'ly hoar as yet with the soft downOf her first plumage, in thy gentle breastMy young Muse dar'd to build herself a nest.Here found she sun and shade and gentler heaven,And what with these is by the Muses givenWere hers. Here sat she careless how the skiesMight darken, or the blasts of winter rise;And here her voice reach'd thee, but by what moveOf fate I know not, only that thy loveHer voice did win; and now at length behold—And ah, how much the child her arms enfoldIs like the mother!—she in tender yearsThe parent of a tender babe appears.What lap, then, for this infant shall I findFitter than thine, or known by me so kind?Yea, soon as she could speak, the wanton, sheSaid, 'He shall be my guardian,' meaning thee;And no ill forecast I would deem is thisOf Genius true and favouring deities,That she so early should a sire divineAlways so open, always so benign.Take, then, thine own—she is beneath thy wing—And of this gift accept the offering.So may Persuasion, who her fount has madeUpon thy lips, still pour from thence unstay'dHer sacred honey; so be at the Court,Whereto with plausive wreaths she doth resort,No ears thy Siren move not; so, I pray,No hindering bar thy Tagus strive to stay,Or only such as erst thy stream has swept away.Cl.
Decoration F
COLENDISSIMO MAGISTRO BROOK.
O mihi qui nunquam nomen non dulce fuisti,Tunc quoque cum domini fronte timendus eras;Ille ego pars vestri quondam intactissima regni,De nullo virgae nota labore tuae,Do tibi quod de te per secula longa queretur,Quod de me nimium non metuendus eras:Quod tibi turpis ego torpentis inertia sceptriTam ferulae tulerim mitia jura tuae.Scilicet in foliis quicquid peccabitur istis,Quod tua virga statim vapulet, illud erit;Ergo tibi haec poenas pro me mea pagina pendat.Hic agitur virgae res tibi multa tuae.In me igitur quicquid nimis illa pepercerit olim,Id licet in foetu vindicet omne meo.Hic tuus inveniet satis in quo saeviat unguis,Quodque veru docto trans obeliscus eat:Scilicet haec mea sunt; haec quas mala scilicet: ô si,Quae tua nempe forent, hic meliora forent!Qualiacunque, suum norunt haec flumina fontem—Nilus ab ignoto fonte superbus eat—Nec certe nihil est qua quis sit origine. FontesEsse solent fluvii nomen honorque sui.Hic quoque tam parvus, de me mea secula dicant,Non parvi soboles hic quoque fontis erat.Hoc modo et ipse velis de me dixisse: MeorumIlle fuit minimus—sed fuit ille meus.
O mihi qui nunquam nomen non dulce fuisti,Tunc quoque cum domini fronte timendus eras;Ille ego pars vestri quondam intactissima regni,De nullo virgae nota labore tuae,Do tibi quod de te per secula longa queretur,Quod de me nimium non metuendus eras:Quod tibi turpis ego torpentis inertia sceptriTam ferulae tulerim mitia jura tuae.Scilicet in foliis quicquid peccabitur istis,Quod tua virga statim vapulet, illud erit;Ergo tibi haec poenas pro me mea pagina pendat.Hic agitur virgae res tibi multa tuae.In me igitur quicquid nimis illa pepercerit olim,Id licet in foetu vindicet omne meo.Hic tuus inveniet satis in quo saeviat unguis,Quodque veru docto trans obeliscus eat:Scilicet haec mea sunt; haec quas mala scilicet: ô si,Quae tua nempe forent, hic meliora forent!Qualiacunque, suum norunt haec flumina fontem—Nilus ab ignoto fonte superbus eat—Nec certe nihil est qua quis sit origine. FontesEsse solent fluvii nomen honorque sui.Hic quoque tam parvus, de me mea secula dicant,Non parvi soboles hic quoque fontis erat.Hoc modo et ipse velis de me dixisse: MeorumIlle fuit minimus—sed fuit ille meus.
TRANSLATION.
TO THAT MOST CULTURED MAN,
HIS MOST ESTIMABLE TUTOR MASTER BROOK.[132]
O thou, whose name to me was still endear'dE'en when the master's brow was justly fear'd;I, of thy realm the most inviolate part,By touch of thy birch-rod ne'er taught to smart,Give thee what through long years complains of theeThat thou wast not enough a fear to me;That I, base subject of thy sceptre slow,Thy ferule's milder sway should only know.Sooth, in these leaves what faults soe'er thou see,Thy rod in every case should punish'd be.Then let this page for me the suffering pay;Here certainly thy rod may have full play;Howe'er that rod to me was once too mild,It may revenge it all on this my child;Here will thy nail discover where to rage,And scratch a learnèd blot across the page.These which are bad, forsooth, these things are mine;Would they were better, that they might be thine!Whate'er they are, these streams their fountain know,Nile from an unknown fount may proudly go.Not lightly what one's source may be we deem;Fountains give name and honour to their stream.So small—my times perhaps may say of me—An offspring of no fountain small was he.Only to say of me may it be thine:'He was my least indeed—but he was mine!'R. Wi.
O thou, whose name to me was still endear'dE'en when the master's brow was justly fear'd;I, of thy realm the most inviolate part,By touch of thy birch-rod ne'er taught to smart,Give thee what through long years complains of theeThat thou wast not enough a fear to me;That I, base subject of thy sceptre slow,Thy ferule's milder sway should only know.Sooth, in these leaves what faults soe'er thou see,Thy rod in every case should punish'd be.Then let this page for me the suffering pay;Here certainly thy rod may have full play;Howe'er that rod to me was once too mild,It may revenge it all on this my child;Here will thy nail discover where to rage,And scratch a learnèd blot across the page.These which are bad, forsooth, these things are mine;Would they were better, that they might be thine!Whate'er they are, these streams their fountain know,Nile from an unknown fount may proudly go.Not lightly what one's source may be we deem;Fountains give name and honour to their stream.So small—my times perhaps may say of me—An offspring of no fountain small was he.Only to say of me may it be thine:'He was my least indeed—but he was mine!'R. Wi.
Posuit sub ista, non gravi, caput terraIlle, ipsa quem mors arrogare vix ausaDidicit vereri, plurimumque suspensoDubitavit ictu, lucidos procul vultus,Et sidus oris acre procul prospectans.Cui literarum fama cum dedit lumen,Accepit, atque est ditior suis donis.Cujus serena gravitas faciles moresMuliere novit; cujus in senectuteFamaeque riguit, et juventa fortunae.Ita brevis aevi, ut nec videri festinus;Ita longus, ut nec fessus. Et hunc mori credis?
Posuit sub ista, non gravi, caput terraIlle, ipsa quem mors arrogare vix ausaDidicit vereri, plurimumque suspensoDubitavit ictu, lucidos procul vultus,Et sidus oris acre procul prospectans.Cui literarum fama cum dedit lumen,Accepit, atque est ditior suis donis.Cujus serena gravitas faciles moresMuliere novit; cujus in senectuteFamaeque riguit, et juventa fortunae.Ita brevis aevi, ut nec videri festinus;Ita longus, ut nec fessus. Et hunc mori credis?
TRANSLATION.
EPITAPH ON REV. DR. BROOK.
Beneath this earth, strew'd lightly, lies the headOf one whom Death himself had learnt to dread,Scarce venturing to claim; and falter'd muchEre he allow'd his threatening stroke to touchThat sacred presence. These bright eyes from farHe view'd; from far that face ray'd like a star.On whom when fame of letters lustre drew,He took it as his right, and richer grewBy his own gifts to learning; whose sereneSeverity of manners seem'd to have beenTemper'd by woman's softness; whose good name,In later as in early years the same,Stood firm; his fortune equal to his fame.His life so short, that not in haste he seem'd;So long, that weary he might not be deem'd:That such a one is dead, can it be dream'd?R. Wi.
Beneath this earth, strew'd lightly, lies the headOf one whom Death himself had learnt to dread,Scarce venturing to claim; and falter'd muchEre he allow'd his threatening stroke to touchThat sacred presence. These bright eyes from farHe view'd; from far that face ray'd like a star.On whom when fame of letters lustre drew,He took it as his right, and richer grewBy his own gifts to learning; whose sereneSeverity of manners seem'd to have beenTemper'd by woman's softness; whose good name,In later as in early years the same,Stood firm; his fortune equal to his fame.His life so short, that not in haste he seem'd;So long, that weary he might not be deem'd:That such a one is dead, can it be dream'd?R. Wi.
Decoration L
Decoration C
Siste te paulum, viator, ubi longum sistiNecesse erit, huc nempe properare te scias quocunque properas.Morae pretium eritEt lacrymae,Si jacere hic sciasGulielmumSplendidae Herrisiorum familiaeSplendorem maximum:Quem cum talem vixisse intellexeris,Et vixisse tantum;Discas licetIn quantas spes possitAssurgere mortalitas,De quantis cadere.Quem┌InfantemEssexia┐vidit.└JuvenemCantabrigia┘Senem, ah infelix utraqueQuod non vidit.QuiCollegii Christi AlumnusAulae Pembrokianae socius,Utrique ingens amoris certamen fuit,DonecDulciss. lites elusit Deus,Eumque coelestis collegii,Cujus semper alumnus fuit,socium fecit;Qui et ipse collegium fuit,In quoMusae omnes et Gratiae,Nullibi magis sorores,Sub praeside religione,In tenacissimum sodalitium coaluere.Quem┌OratoriaOratorem┐agnovere.│PoeticaPoetam││UtraquePhilosophum│└ChristianumOmnes┘Qui┌FideMundum┐superavit.│SpeCoelum││CharitateProximum│└HumilitateSeipsum┘CujusSub verna fronte senilis animus,Sub morum facilitate, severitas virtutis;Sub plurima indole, pauci anni;Sub majore modestia, maxima indolesadeo se occulueruntut vitam ejusPulchram dixeris et pudicam dissimulationem:Imo vero et mortem,Ecce enim in ipso funereDissimulari se passus est,Sub tantillo marmore tantum hospitem,Eo nimirum majore monumento quo minore tumulo.Eo ipso die occubuit quo EcclesiaAnglicana ad vesperas legit,Raptus est ne malitia mutaret intellectum ejus;Scilicet Id. Octobris anno S. 1631.
Siste te paulum, viator, ubi longum sistiNecesse erit, huc nempe properare te scias quocunque properas.Morae pretium eritEt lacrymae,Si jacere hic sciasGulielmumSplendidae Herrisiorum familiaeSplendorem maximum:Quem cum talem vixisse intellexeris,Et vixisse tantum;Discas licetIn quantas spes possitAssurgere mortalitas,De quantis cadere.Quem┌InfantemEssexia┐vidit.└JuvenemCantabrigia┘Senem, ah infelix utraqueQuod non vidit.QuiCollegii Christi AlumnusAulae Pembrokianae socius,Utrique ingens amoris certamen fuit,DonecDulciss. lites elusit Deus,Eumque coelestis collegii,Cujus semper alumnus fuit,socium fecit;Qui et ipse collegium fuit,In quoMusae omnes et Gratiae,Nullibi magis sorores,Sub praeside religione,In tenacissimum sodalitium coaluere.Quem┌OratoriaOratorem┐agnovere.│PoeticaPoetam││UtraquePhilosophum│└ChristianumOmnes┘Qui┌FideMundum┐superavit.│SpeCoelum││CharitateProximum│└HumilitateSeipsum┘CujusSub verna fronte senilis animus,Sub morum facilitate, severitas virtutis;Sub plurima indole, pauci anni;Sub majore modestia, maxima indolesadeo se occulueruntut vitam ejusPulchram dixeris et pudicam dissimulationem:Imo vero et mortem,Ecce enim in ipso funereDissimulari se passus est,Sub tantillo marmore tantum hospitem,Eo nimirum majore monumento quo minore tumulo.Eo ipso die occubuit quo EcclesiaAnglicana ad vesperas legit,Raptus est ne malitia mutaret intellectum ejus;Scilicet Id. Octobris anno S. 1631.
TRANSLATION.
EPITAPH FOR WILLIAM HARRIS.
Stay thee a short space here, good passer-by,Upon thy way;Wherein a little while thou too must lie,Haste as thou may.Certes thou knowest that thy life-long questLeads hither—to the long, long sleep and rest:Grudge thee not, then, the tribute of a tear,Whilst, ling'ring, to this stone thou drawest near.It will reward thy stay,It will thy tears repay,To knowBelowliesWilliam,Of the family of Harris,The most splendid nameWhere all have fame.Knowing that such an one did live,And how he liv'd—great, noble, wise—Know how all mortal hopes are fugitive;Height gauging depth with 'Here he lies.'Whom┌As infantEssex┐saw.└As youthCambridge┘Ah, miserable and lamenting both, that theySee not his golden locks in years grow gray!He wasA student of Christ College,A fellow of Pembroke Hall:To have himThe two Colleges did striveIn rivalry of love:But the great God put in His negative,Calling him Above,To gain ampler knowledgeIn the Heavenly College,Of which he was on earth a student consecrate;So, when Death summon'd him, he went elate.So wise his wit,By genius lit,In himself aloneMany in one,You had a College, whereGraces and Muses fairWith Religion, you might seeTwin'd hand in hand in amity.Whom┌Eloquence as anOrator┐owned.│Poetry as aPoet││Each as aPhilosopher│└All as aChristian┘Who┌By faith theworld┐conquered.│By hopeHeaven││By love hisfellow-men│└By himselfhimself┘Of whomThe ripen'd mind under a youthful face;Severest virtue under courtliest grace;Few years his, yet mellow'd as in age;A modesty that did all hearts engage:These self-reveal'd and self-revealing,That all his life seem'd but a fine concealing.Yea, ev'n in his death 'twas so;For being thus at length laid low,He chose no boastful tomb to tellHow good the life that in him fell:By so much greater is the guest,Smaller the mound where he doth rest:Yea, in his death there was diminution:Great was the guest, but see how small the stone.On that very day he died in which theChurch of England reads its even-song:He was snatch'd away, lest the wickednessof the times should contaminate his understanding,viz. 15th OctoberA.S.1631.[135]
Stay thee a short space here, good passer-by,Upon thy way;Wherein a little while thou too must lie,Haste as thou may.Certes thou knowest that thy life-long questLeads hither—to the long, long sleep and rest:Grudge thee not, then, the tribute of a tear,Whilst, ling'ring, to this stone thou drawest near.It will reward thy stay,It will thy tears repay,To knowBelowliesWilliam,Of the family of Harris,The most splendid nameWhere all have fame.Knowing that such an one did live,And how he liv'd—great, noble, wise—Know how all mortal hopes are fugitive;Height gauging depth with 'Here he lies.'Whom┌As infantEssex┐saw.└As youthCambridge┘Ah, miserable and lamenting both, that theySee not his golden locks in years grow gray!He wasA student of Christ College,A fellow of Pembroke Hall:To have himThe two Colleges did striveIn rivalry of love:But the great God put in His negative,Calling him Above,To gain ampler knowledgeIn the Heavenly College,Of which he was on earth a student consecrate;So, when Death summon'd him, he went elate.So wise his wit,By genius lit,In himself aloneMany in one,You had a College, whereGraces and Muses fairWith Religion, you might seeTwin'd hand in hand in amity.Whom┌Eloquence as anOrator┐owned.│Poetry as aPoet││Each as aPhilosopher│└All as aChristian┘Who┌By faith theworld┐conquered.│By hopeHeaven││By love hisfellow-men│└By himselfhimself┘Of whomThe ripen'd mind under a youthful face;Severest virtue under courtliest grace;Few years his, yet mellow'd as in age;A modesty that did all hearts engage:These self-reveal'd and self-revealing,That all his life seem'd but a fine concealing.Yea, ev'n in his death 'twas so;For being thus at length laid low,He chose no boastful tomb to tellHow good the life that in him fell:By so much greater is the guest,Smaller the mound where he doth rest:Yea, in his death there was diminution:Great was the guest, but see how small the stone.On that very day he died in which theChurch of England reads its even-song:He was snatch'd away, lest the wickednessof the times should contaminate his understanding,viz. 15th OctoberA.S.1631.[135]
Huc, hospes, oculos flecte, sed lacrimis caecos,Legit optime haec, quem legere non sinit fletus.Ars nuper et natura, forma, virtusqueAemulatione fervidae, paciscunturProbare uno juvene quid queant omnes,Fuere tantae terra nuper fuit liti,Ergo huc ab ipso Judicem manent coelo.
Huc, hospes, oculos flecte, sed lacrimis caecos,Legit optime haec, quem legere non sinit fletus.Ars nuper et natura, forma, virtusqueAemulatione fervidae, paciscunturProbare uno juvene quid queant omnes,Fuere tantae terra nuper fuit liti,Ergo huc ab ipso Judicem manent coelo.
TRANSLATION.
Stranger, bend here thine eyes, but dim with tears;Whom weeping blinds, best reader here appears.Art, Nature, Beauty, Virtue, all agree,Contending late with a warm rivalry,To show what in one youth all join'd would be.So great the strife they caus'd on earth of late,That here from heaven itself the Judge they wait.R. Wi.
Stranger, bend here thine eyes, but dim with tears;Whom weeping blinds, best reader here appears.Art, Nature, Beauty, Virtue, all agree,Contending late with a warm rivalry,To show what in one youth all join'd would be.So great the strife they caus'd on earth of late,That here from heaven itself the Judge they wait.R. Wi.
D. ANDREWS.[137]
Haec charta monstrat, fama quem monstrat magis,Sed et ipsa necdum fama quem monstrat satis;Ille, ille totam solus implevit tubam,Tot ora solus domuit, et famam quoqueFecit modestam: mentis igneae paterAgilique radio lucis aeternae vigil,Per alta rerum pondera indomito vagusCucurrit animo, quippe naturam feroxExhausit ipsam mille foetus artibus,Et mille linguis ipse se in gentes proculVariavit omnes, fuitque toti simulCognatus orbi, sic sacrum et solidum jubarSaturumque coelo pectus ad patrios libensPorrexit ignes: hac eum, lector, videsHac, ecce, charta ô utinam et audires quoque.
Haec charta monstrat, fama quem monstrat magis,Sed et ipsa necdum fama quem monstrat satis;Ille, ille totam solus implevit tubam,Tot ora solus domuit, et famam quoqueFecit modestam: mentis igneae paterAgilique radio lucis aeternae vigil,Per alta rerum pondera indomito vagusCucurrit animo, quippe naturam feroxExhausit ipsam mille foetus artibus,Et mille linguis ipse se in gentes proculVariavit omnes, fuitque toti simulCognatus orbi, sic sacrum et solidum jubarSaturumque coelo pectus ad patrios libensPorrexit ignes: hac eum, lector, videsHac, ecce, charta ô utinam et audires quoque.
As in the other Worthies, this Index is intended to guide to Notes and Illustrations of the several words in the places; but mainly in Vol. I., as Vol. II. consists wholly of the Latin and Greek and their translations.G.
LONDON:ROBSON AND SONS, PRINTERS, PANCRAS ROAD, N.W.