Selected quad for the lemma: ground_n
Text snippets containing the quad
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ID |
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Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication) |
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A80717
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Poems, by several persons
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Cowley, Abraham, 1618-1667.
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1663
(1663)
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Wing C6681A; ESTC R224548
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25,506
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68
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Bounty they repay And her sole Laws religiously obey Some with bold Labour plough the faithless main Some rougher storms in Princes Courts sustain Some swell up their sleight sails with pop'lar fame Charm'd with the foolish whistlings of a name Some their vain wealth to Earth again commit With endless cares some brooding o're it sit Country and Friends are by some Wretches sold To lye on Tyrian Beds and drink in Gold No price too high for profit can be shown Not Brothers blood nor hazards of their own Around the World in search of it they roam It makes ev'n their Antipodes their home Mean while the prudent Husbandman is found In mutual duties striving with his ground And half the year he care of that does take That half the year grateful return does make Each fertile moneth does some new gifts present And with new work his industry content This the young Lamb that the soft Fleece doth yield This loads with Hey and that with Corn the Field All sorts of Fruit crown the rich Autumns Pride And on a swelling Hills warm stony side The powerful Princely Purple of the Vine Twice dy'd with the redoubled Sun does shine In th' Evening to a fair ensuing day With joy he sees his Flocks and Kids to play And loaded Kyne about his Cottage stand Inviting with known sound the Milkers hand And when from wholsom labour he doth come With wishes to be there and wish't for home He meets at home the softest humane blisses His chast Wives welcom and dear Childrens kisses And when the Rural Holy dayes invite His Genius forth to innocent delight On Earths fair bed beneath some sacred shade Amidst his equal friends carelesly laid He sings thee Bacchus Patron of the Vine The Beechen Boul foams with a flood of Wine Not to the loss of reason or of strength To active games and manly sport at length Their mirth ascends and with fill'd veins they see VVho can the best at better trials be Such was the Life the prudent Sabins chose From such the old Hetrurian vertue rose Such Remus and the God his Prother led From such firm footing Rome grew the VVorld's head Such was the Life that ev'n till now does raise The honour of poor Saturns golden dayes Before Men born of Earth and buryed there Let in the Sea their mortal fate to share Before new wayes of perishing were sought Before unskilful Death on Anvils wrought Before those Beasts which humane Life sustain By men unless to the Gods use were slain Claudians's Old Man of Verona HAppy the Man who his whole time doth bound Within th' enclosure of his little ground Happy the Man whom the same humble place Th' hereditary Cottage of his Race From his first rising infancy has known And by degrees sees gently bending down VVith natural propensions to that Earth VVhich both preserv'd his Life and gave him birth Him no false distant lights by fortune set Could ever into foolish wandrings get He never dangers either saw or fear'd The dreadful storms at Sea he never heard He never heard the shrill alarms of war Or the worse noyses of the Lawyers bar No change of Consuls mark 's to him the year The change of seasons is his Calendar The cold and heat VVinter and Summer showes Autumne by fruits and spring by flourish knows He measures time by Land-marks and has found For the whole day the Dial of his ground A neighbouring wood borne with himself he sees And loves his old contemporary trees He only heard of near Verona's Name And knowes it like the Indies but by fame Does with a like concernment notice take Of the Red-Sea and of Benacoes lake Thus Health and Strength to a third age enjoyes And sees a long Posterity of Boyes About the spacious VVorld let others roam The Voyage life is longest made at home Martial Book 10. Epigram 96. An Epigram ME who have liv'd so long among the great You wonder to hear talk of a Retreat And a retreat so distant as may shew No thoughts of a return when once I go Give me a Country how remote so e're VVhere happiness a mod'rate rate does bear VVhere poverty it self in plenty flowes And all the solidness of Riches knowes The ground about the house maintains it there The house maintains the ground about it here Here even hunger's dear and a full board Devours the vital substance of the Lord. The Land it self does there the feast bestow The Land it self must here to Market go Three or four suits one Winter here does waste One suit does there three or four Winters last Here every frugal Man must oft be cold And little Luke-warm-fires are to you sold There fires an Element as cheap and free Almost as any of the other be Stay you then here and live amongst the Great Attend their sports and at their tables eat When all the bounties here of men you score The places bounty there shall give you more A Paraphrase on the 9 th Ode of Horace his third book that begins with Donec gratus eram tibi 1. WHile but thy self I did think nothing fair And all thy heart fell to my share And others did at distance gaze On the glories of thy face Like Persians worshiping the Sun My Empire o're thy Soul was great Thy power o're mine too was compleat And then my greatest Power and Wealth begun When to thee I most tribute paid When to thee I my self was tribute made 'T was then my self I did repute Even than a Persian King more absolute And then him to be happier far Though he were Brother to his God the Sun and every Star Lydia 2. Before you did my Beauties power depose And Chloe was my bright Successor chose I was far happier too Then Persian Queens or Kings or you Although I grant it is a nobler thing To be a Roman Poet than a Persian King Honour which Women value more Than Men their beauties can adore I did enjoy while I was woo'd by thee More then the Roman Ilia that great she Who brought forth him that did to Rome give birth Rome the great Queen and Mistress of the Earth Rome that is thirty thousand strong in Gods Yet of them all with ease I got the ods While I did worship only thee And thou too didst as much for me And the World thought our love a Deity Horace 3. I have another Empress at this hour And own fair Chloe as the present power O when ever Chloe sings And her Theorbos trembling strings The passions of her voice express As her voice doth those of her soul confess I think not of her face and hand Nor of the wit her tongue doth then command Nor of her quick and sparkling eye From whence Meridian beams do alwayes fly Her voice alone doth all my thoughts controul In that Air lyes the Center of my Soul Just as the Earth the Center of the World Is fixt in ambient ayr about it hurl'd And