Skip to main content

(2) next ››› [PAGE 2][PAGE 2]



On the Author of Abſolom and Achitophel,
occaſioned by his former writing of an Elegy
in praiſe of Oliver Cromwel, lately Reprinted.

WHEN old Philoſophers wrote the Worlds Birth,
And from wild chaos brought great Nature forth ;
The ſelf-ſame Atoms as they different ran,
Club'd to a Lyon, Monky, Bear or Man :
From ſuch thin Sires ſuch ſolid Off-ſprings grew,
So Divine Wite, like the First Matter Thou :
Thy ſubtle Sparks do ſuch ſtrange Prducts make,
That Thou juſt nothing, yet all For ms canſt take.
So juſtly thou haſt deſerved thy lohg-worn Bays,
That as a Trophy to thy Endleſs Praiſe,
Let that great Poem its long Silence break ;
The worthyeſt of thy vaſt Creation ſpeak.
Methinks I fancy how bold Mutius Dart
Was levell'd at Porſenna's Royal Heart,
And in defeated Rage I ſee him doom
His erring Hand t'its flaming Martyrdom.
Let his poor Deeds in dull Oblivion dye ;
Thy Vengeance with a ſurer Aim lets fly :
In keen Iambicks 'gainſt thy Sovereign Lord,
Thy Pen was more Succeſsful than his Sword.
So vaſt a Pile thy lofty Numbers raiſe
Thoſe Babel-Builders to great MOLOCHS praiſe,
A Pile which to thy Honour will ſurpaſs
Even thy own Corah's Monumental Braſs.
Thou writeſt with ſo much Flame, Flame ſo refined.
That Poetry 's the Feaver of thy Mind :
And Feaver-like in thoſe bleak days of Yore,
When Loyalty was Naked left and Poor,
Thy Aguiſh Veins Chill'd at a Starving Door.
But Burning high thy active Spirits run
At proſperous Rebellions warmer Sun.
When Phaeton miſled the Day, and hurl'd
His ſcatter'd Fires around the ſcorching World :
How would his Glories in thy Meeter Chime,
The Groans of Worlds thus ſoſtned into Rhime ?
Or when great Neroſet his Rome on Fire,
And Tuned its Ruine to his jocund Lyre ;
How with his Muſick would thy Notes agree,
A Song, great Bard, fit to be Set by Thee.
Such VVonders have thy powerful Raptures ſhown,
Pythagoras Tranſmigration thou 'ſt out-done.
His Souls of Heroes and great Chiefs Expired,
Down into Birds and Noble Beaſts retired.
But thou to Savages and Monſters dire,
Canſt infuſe ſparks, even of Cœleſtial Fire :

                                                 A                            Make

Images and transcriptions on this page, including medium image downloads, may be used under the Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International Licence unless otherwise stated. Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International Licence