ART. IX. Old Poetry. [Robert Davy, Author of a few compositions in verse inserted in the MS. volume repeatedly noticed in this work as of the age of Elizabeth. His name is believed to be now first known. The pieces are of a religious cast, and are remarkable for their smoothness of numbers, when compared with some of the contemporary writers. If there are not the words that burn, there is sufficient merit to claim preservation.] "A Dittie of Defence against the fleshe, the worlde, and the Devill. "Each wight geeve care to this approved lore, and thinke what thinges to sinne did the entice: Abbor in mynde thy lawlesse lothsome lust, that yeldes in fine, but poisoned sweet delight: With most chaste mynde, his force subdue thow must, by sober foode and by continuall flight. Doe thus, defie the fleshe and all his force, The worlde likewise with glittring glimse of toyes, The Divell also that fowle filthy fende, that doth but seek to geeve thee overthrowe; Abhorr his baites working thy wofull ende, and shone likewise the dainger of his bowe: Tread downe his seed, cutt of occasion sought; by praier to God his sleighte shall come to nought. Oh God, our God! graunte pardon wee thee praie for each offence, that wee committed have; to shunne the wiles that wold vs soone deprave; RO. DAVY." [Upon a slight retrospect of the history of letters in the last century, imposition and intended fraud are leading characteristics. The Formosa island of the canibal Psalmanazar; the forgery of Lauder; the yet doubtful Ossian; that offspring of sportive genius Rowley, and the truly venal attempt hight pseudo-Shakspeare:-a combination sufficient to engender some new monster more malignant than Suspicion to slur with venom every discovery in the range of literature. To preclude doubt, the MS. referred to in any article by me may be easily inspected.} Conduit street. J. H. ART. X. The Ruminator. Containing a series of moral, sentimental, and critical Essays. No. XLIV. On the Latin poems of Cowley. The Latin poems of Cowley, which are not printed among the common editions of his works, are not so • First printed 1668, 8vo. in which are included Plantarum Libri Duo, which had been printed Land 1662, 8vo. The title of the second edition runs thus: Abrabami Couleii Angli, Poemata Latina: in quibus continentur Sere Libri Plantarum, viz. Duo Herbarum, Florum, Sylvarum; et unus Miscellaneorum. Habeo quod carmine sanet & berbis. Ovid Metam. 10. Huic editioni secunda accessit Index Rerum antebac desideratus. Londini typis M. Clarke, Impensis Jo. Martyn, ad Insigne Campana in Cœmeterio D. Pauli 1678, 8vo. well well known as they ought to be. Dr. Johnson and T. Warton differ in the degree of their merit; but it must be admitted that they discover great skill in the Latin language, as well as great genius. I think some of my readers will not be displeased at having two or three of them again brought into notice. I embrace the opportunity more willingly, because I have heard it objected, I think, with too narrow views, that my ruminations are not sufficiently confined to subjects of literature. Limits I have always imposed on myself, which have restrained me from discussing many topics of life and manners, that would both have been pleasing to myself, and have given a greater diversity to my pages. But there are those who would confine me within bounds, to which I cannot submit to be chained. Cowley is never more eloquent than when he descants on the pleasures of Solitude, whether in Latin or English. "Solitudo. "Rura laudamus merito poetæ, Nubilus aer. Nam prius crescet seges in plateis, Sponte nascentes, prius ipsa civis Fiet et herba. Urbe quam surgat media bonorum Carminum messis; bona semper urbem Carmina oderunt, neque nutrit omnis Omnia tellus. + See Johnson's Lives of the Poets, and Warton's Preface to Milton's Juvenile Poems. G 3 Rure, Rure, Persarum veluti tyrannus, Arbores salvete, bonæque sylvæ, Hic jacens vestris temere sub umbris, O sacrum risum juvenilis anni! Hic mihi æstivo domus apta sole, Pulchra naturæ domus architectæ! Arbore vivâ?† This is a translation of some beautiful lines in his English poem on Solitude. "Here let me careless and unthoughtful lying, Hear the soft winds above me flying, With all their wanton boughs dispute." + "Here Nature does a house for me erect, Nature, the wisest architect, Who those fond artists does despise, That can the fair and living trees neglect; Yet the dead timber prize." Ibid. Audiam |