قراءة كتاب The Works of Aphra Behn, Volume VI
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اللغة: English
الصفحة رقم: 3
their own.
Male Wits, from Authors of a former Date, }
Copy Applause; and but at best, translate; }
While you, like the immortal Pow'rs, Create. }
Horace and Pindar (tho' attempted long }
In vain) at last, have learnt the British Tongue; }
Not so the Grecian Female Poet's Song. }
The Pride of Greece we now out-rival'd see:
Greece boasts one Sappho; two Orinda's, we.
Copy Applause; and but at best, translate; }
While you, like the immortal Pow'rs, Create. }
Horace and Pindar (tho' attempted long }
In vain) at last, have learnt the British Tongue; }
Not so the Grecian Female Poet's Song. }
The Pride of Greece we now out-rival'd see:
Greece boasts one Sappho; two Orinda's, we.
But what unheard Applause shall we impart
To this most new, and happy piece of Art?
That renders our Apollo more sublime }
In Num'rous Prose, but yet more num'rous Rhime; }
And makes the God of Love, the God of Time. }
Love's wandring Planet, you have made a Star:
'Twas bright before, but now 'tis Regular.
While Love shall last, this Engine needs must vend: }
Each Nymph, this Watch shall to her Lover send, }
That points him out his Hours, and how those Hours to spend. }
To this most new, and happy piece of Art?
That renders our Apollo more sublime }
In Num'rous Prose, but yet more num'rous Rhime; }
And makes the God of Love, the God of Time. }
Love's wandring Planet, you have made a Star:
'Twas bright before, but now 'tis Regular.
While Love shall last, this Engine needs must vend: }
Each Nymph, this Watch shall to her Lover send, }
That points him out his Hours, and how those Hours to spend. }
N. Tate.
To the most ingenious ASTREA, upon her Book intituled, La Môntre, or the Lover's Watch.
To celebrate your Praise, no Muse can crown
You with that Glory, as this Piece hath done.
This Lover's Watch, tho' it was made in France,
By the fam'd Bonnecorse; yet you advance
The Value of its curious Work so far,
That as it shin'd there like a glitt'ring Star,
Yet here a Constellation it appears;
And in Love's Orb, with more Applause, it wears
Astrea's Name. Your Prose so delicate,
Your Verse so smooth and sweet, that they create
A lovely Wonder in each Lover's Mind:
The envious Critick dares not be unkind.
La Môntre cannot err, 'tis set so well;
The Rules for Lovers Hours are like a Spell
To charm a Mistress with: The God of Love
Is highly pleas'd; and smiling, does approve
Of this rare Master piece: His Am'rous Game
Will more improve: This will support his Fame.
May your luxuriant Fancy ever flow
Like a Spring tide; no Bounds, or Limits know.
May you, in Story, for your Wit, live high:
And summon'd hence, to blest Eternity,
Aged with Nestor's Years, resign to Fate;
May your fam'd Works receive an endless Date.
You with that Glory, as this Piece hath done.
This Lover's Watch, tho' it was made in France,
By the fam'd Bonnecorse; yet you advance
The Value of its curious Work so far,
That as it shin'd there like a glitt'ring Star,
Yet here a Constellation it appears;
And in Love's Orb, with more Applause, it wears
Astrea's Name. Your Prose so delicate,
Your Verse so smooth and sweet, that they create
A lovely Wonder in each Lover's Mind:
The envious Critick dares not be unkind.
La Môntre cannot err, 'tis set so well;
The Rules for Lovers Hours are like a Spell
To charm a Mistress with: The God of Love
Is highly pleas'd; and smiling, does approve
Of this rare Master piece: His Am'rous Game
Will more improve: This will support his Fame.
May your luxuriant Fancy ever flow
Like a Spring tide; no Bounds, or Limits know.
May you, in Story, for your Wit, live high:
And summon'd hence, to blest Eternity,
Aged with Nestor's Years, resign to Fate;
May your fam'd Works receive an endless Date.
Rich. Faerrar.
To the Divine ASTREA, on her Môntre.
Thou Wonder of thy Sex! Thou greatest Good!
The Ages Glory, if but understood.
How are the Britains bound to bless the Name
Of great Astrea! Whose Eternal Fame,
To Foreign Clymes, is most deserv'dly spread;
Where Thou, in thy great Works, shalt live, tho' dead.
And mighty France, with Envy shall look on,
To see her greatest Wit by thee out-done:
And all their boasted Trophies are in vain,
Whilst thou, spight of their Salick Law, shall reign.
Witness La Môntre, from their Rubbish rais'd:
A Piece, for which, thou shalt be ever prais'd.
The beauteous Work is with such Order laid, }
And all the Movement so divinely made, }
As cannot of dull Criticks be afraid. }
Such Nature in the Truths of Love thou'st shew'd,
As the All-loving Ovid never cou'd.
Thy Rules so soft, so modest, and so right,
The list'ning Youths will follow with Delight:
To thy blest Name will all their Homage pay,
Who taught 'em how to love the noblest Way.
The Ages Glory, if but understood.
How are the Britains bound to bless the Name
Of great Astrea! Whose Eternal Fame,
To Foreign Clymes, is most deserv'dly spread;
Where Thou, in thy great Works, shalt live, tho' dead.
And mighty France, with Envy shall look on,
To see her greatest Wit by thee out-done:
And all their boasted Trophies are in vain,
Whilst thou, spight of their Salick Law, shall reign.
Witness La Môntre, from their Rubbish rais'd:
A Piece, for which, thou shalt be ever prais'd.
The beauteous Work is with such Order laid, }
And all the Movement so divinely made, }
As cannot of dull Criticks be afraid. }
Such Nature in the Truths of Love thou'st shew'd,
As the All-loving Ovid never cou'd.
Thy Rules so soft, so modest, and so right,
The list'ning Youths will follow with Delight:
To thy blest Name will all their Homage pay,
Who taught 'em how to love the noblest Way.
G. J.
To his admired Friend, the most ingenious Author.
Once more my Muse is blest; her humble Voice
Does in thy wondrous Works, once more, rejoyce.
Not the bright Mount, where e'ery sacred Tongue,
In skilful Choirs, immortal Numbers sung
Not great Apollo's own inspiring Beams,
Nor sweet Castalia's consecrated Streams,
To thy learn'd Sisters could so charming be.
As are thy Songs, and thou thy self, to me.
Æthereal Air, soft Springs, and verdant Fields;
Cool Shades, and Sunny Banks, thy Presence yields.
Never were Soul and Body better joyn'd;
A Mansion, worthy so divine a Mind!
No wonder e'ery Swain adores thy Name,
And e'ery Tongue proclaims thy Deathless Fame;
For who can such resistless Power controul,
Where Wit and Beauty both invade the Soul?
Beauty, that still does her fresh Conquests find;
And Sacred Wit, that ever charms the Mind:
Through all its Forms, that lovely Proteus chase;
And e'ery Shape has its Peculiar Grace.
Hail, Thou Heav'n-Born! Thou most transcendent Good!
If Mortals their chief Blessings understood!
Thou that, while Kingdoms, Thrones, and Pow'rs decay,
Hast, with Eternity, one constant Stay:
Liv'st, and will live, like the great God of Love;
For ever young, although as old as Jove.
While we, alas! in dark Oblivion lye,
Does in thy wondrous Works, once more, rejoyce.
Not the bright Mount, where e'ery sacred Tongue,
In skilful Choirs, immortal Numbers sung
Not great Apollo's own inspiring Beams,
Nor sweet Castalia's consecrated Streams,
To thy learn'd Sisters could so charming be.
As are thy Songs, and thou thy self, to me.
Æthereal Air, soft Springs, and verdant Fields;
Cool Shades, and Sunny Banks, thy Presence yields.
Never were Soul and Body better joyn'd;
A Mansion, worthy so divine a Mind!
No wonder e'ery Swain adores thy Name,
And e'ery Tongue proclaims thy Deathless Fame;
For who can such resistless Power controul,
Where Wit and Beauty both invade the Soul?
Beauty, that still does her fresh Conquests find;
And Sacred Wit, that ever charms the Mind:
Through all its Forms, that lovely Proteus chase;
And e'ery Shape has its Peculiar Grace.
Hail, Thou Heav'n-Born! Thou most transcendent Good!
If Mortals their chief Blessings understood!
Thou that, while Kingdoms, Thrones, and Pow'rs decay,
Hast, with Eternity, one constant Stay:
Liv'st, and will live, like the great God of Love;
For ever young, although as old as Jove.
While we, alas! in dark Oblivion lye,