Amidst thy arms and trophies thou Woundedst thyself, when thou didst kill thy foe. Upon a polish'd golden shield doth shine, The shield reflects unto the Sun again his light: To Heaven again the victory was sent. England, till thou didst come, Confin'd her valour home; As to our enemies unpassable: The British lion hung his mane, and droop'd, A trembling echo ran through every shore, Till thou command'st, that azure chain of waves, Made us to every pirate slaves, Were plough'd and reap'd by other hands than ours: Which doth about us run, Only a bed to sleep on was: And not as now a powerful throne, To shake and sway the world thereon. Our princes in their hand a globe did show, Our wounds to other nations were a sport; And as the earth, our land produc'd Iron and steel, which should to tear ourselves be us'd: Like thundering cannons crack, While th' enemies secure and untouch'd were. And all the world the while Is exercising arms and wars The torch extinguish'd here, we lent to others oil. Through every corner of the world; Are not in number nor in value less. Not only lanc'd but heal'd the wound, After the storm upon the coast, And floods came roaring in with mighty sound, Open in time of war, When thou hadst greater cause to fear: Our after-times and late posterity They too are made by thee. When Fate did call thee to a higher throne, And when thy mortal work was done, When Heaven did say it, and thou must be gone, Thou him to bear thy burthen chose, Who might (if any could) make us forget thy loss; Nor hadst thou him design'd, Had he not been TO A PERSON OF HONOUR (MR. EDWARD HOWARD), UPON HIS INCOMPARABLE, INCOMPREHENSIBLE POEM, ENTITULED, THE BRITISH PRINCES. YOUR book our old knight-errants' fame revives, To praise the Welsh the world must now combine, Since to their leeks you do your laurel join: Bonduca, were she such as here we see come. Nor let small critics blame this mighty queen, Go forth, great author, for the world's delight; Teach it, for none e'er taught you, how to write; They talk strange things that ancient poets did, ON HIS MISTRESS DROWN'D. SWEET stream, that dost with equal pace Both thyself fly and thyself chase, Forbear awhile to flow, And listen to my woe. Then go and tell the sea that all its brine Inform it that the gentler dame, Go on, sweet stream, and henceforth rest THE PLAGUE OF ATHENS, WHICH HAPPENED IN THE SECOND YEAR OF THE PELOPONNESIAN WAR: First described in Greek by Thucydides; then in Latin by Lucretius. To my worthy and learned friend Dr. Walter Pope, late proctor of the University of Oxford. I SIR, KNOW not what pleasure you could take in bestowing your commands so unprofitably, unless it be that for which nature sometimes cherishes and allows monsters, the love of variety. This only delight you will receive by turning over this rude and unpolished copy, and comparing it with my excellent patterns, the Greek and Latin. By this you will see how much a noble subject is changed and disfigured by an ill hand, and what reason Alexander had to forbid his picture to be drawn but by some celebrated pencil. In Greek, Thacydides so well and so lively expresses it, that I know not which is more a poem, bis description or that of Lucretius. Though it must be said, that the historian had a vast advantage over the poet; he, having been present on the place, and assaulted by the disease himself, had the horrour familiar to his eyes, and all the shapes of the misery still remaining on his mind, which mast needs make a great impression on his pen and fancy; whereas the poet was forced to follow his footsteps, and only work on that matter he allowed him. This I speak, because it may in some measure too excuse my own defects: for being so far removed from the place whereon the disease acted his tragedy, and time having denied us many of the circumstances, customs of the country, and other small things which would be of great use to any one who did intend to be perfect on the subject; besides only writing by an idea of that which i never yet saw, nor care to feel (being not of the humour of the painter in sir Philip Sidney, who thrust himself into the midst of a fight, that he might the better delineate it). Haying, I say, all these disadvantages, and many more for which I must only blame myself, it cannot be expected that I should come near equalling him, in whom none of the contrary advantages were wanting. Thus then, sir, by emboldening me to this rash attempt, you have given opportunity to the Greek and Latin to triumph over our mother-tongue. Yet I would not have the honour of the countries or languages engaged in the comparison, but that the inequality should reach no farther than the authors. But I have much reason to fear the just indignation of that excellent person (the present ornament and honour of our nation) whose way of writing I imitate: for he may think himself as much injured by my following him, as were the Heavens by that bold man's counterfeiting the sacred and unimitable noise of thunder, by the sound of brass and horses hoofs. I shall only say for myself, that I took Cicero's advice, who bids us, in imitation, propose the noblest pattern to our thoughts; for so we may be sure to be raised above the common level, though we come infinitely short of what we aim at. Yet I hope that renowned poet will have none of my crimes any way reflect on himself; for it was not any fault in the excellent musician, that the weak bird, endeavouring by straining its throat to follow his notes, destroyed itself in the attempt. Well, sir, by this, that I have chosen rather to expose myself than to be disobedient, you may guess with what zeal and hazard I strive to approve myself, Sir, your most humble and affectionate servant, THO. SPRAT. THUCYDIDES, Lib. II. AS IT IS EXCELLENTLY TRANSLATED BY MR. HOBBES. and their breath noisome and unsavoury. Upon this followed a sneezing and hoarseness, and not long after, the pain, together with a mighty cough, came down into the breast. And when once it was settled in the stomach, it caused vomit, and with great torment came up all manner of bilious purgation that physicians ever named. Most of them had also the hickyexe, which brought with it a strong convulsion, and in some ceased quickly, but in others was long before it gave over. Their bodies outwardly to the touch were neither very hot nor pale, but reddish, livid, and beflowered with little pimples and whelks; but so burned inwardly, as not to endure any the lightest clothes or linen garment to be upon them, nor any thing but mere nakedness, but rather most willingly to have cast themselves into the cold water. And many of them that were not looked to, possessed with insatiate thirst, ran unto the wells; and to drink much or little was indifferent, being still from ease and power to sleep as far as ever. In the very beginning of summer, the Peloponnesians, and their confederates, with two-thirds As long as the disease was at the height, their of their forces, as before, invaded Attica, under bodies wasted not, but resisted the torment bethe conduct of Archidamus, the son of Zeuxida-yond all expectation, insomuch as the most of mas, king of Lacedemon: and after they had encamped themselves, wasted the country about them. They had not been many days in Attica, when the plague first began amongst the Athenians, said also to have seized formerly on divers other parts, as about Lemnos, and elsewhere; but so great a plague, and mortality of men, was never remembered to have happened in any place before. For at first neither were the physicians able to cure it, through ignorance of what it was, but died fastest themselves, as being the men that most approached the sick, nor any other art of man availed whatsoever. All supplications to the gods, and inquiries of oracles, and whatsoever other means they used of that kind, proved all unprofitable, insomuch as, subdued with the greatness of the evil, they gave them all over. It began (by report) first in that part of Ethiopia that lieth upon Egypt, and thence fell down into Egypt and Afric, and into the greatest part of the territories of the king. It invaded Athens on a sudden, and touched first upon those that dwelt in Pyræus, insomuch as they reported that the Peloponnesians had cast poison into their wells; for springs there were not any in that place. But afterwards it came up into the high city, and then they died a great deal faster. Now let every man, physician or other, concerning the ground of this sickness, whence it sprung, and what causes he thinks able to produce so great an alteration, speak according to his. own knowledge; for my own part, I will deliver but the manner of it, and lay open only such things as one may take his mark by to discover the same if it come again, having been both sick of it myself, and seen others sick of the same. This year, by confession of all men, was of all other, for other diseases, most free and healthful. If any man were sick before, his disease turned to this; if not, yet suddenly, without any apparent cause preceding, and being in perfect health, they were taken first with an extreme ache in their heads, redness and inflammation in the eyes; and then inwardly their throats and tongues grew presently bloody, them either died of their inward burning in nine or seven days, whilst they had yet strength; or if they escaped that, then, the disease falling down in their bellies, and causing there great exulcerations and immoderate looseness, they died many of them afterwards through weakness: for the disease (which first took the head) began above, and came down, and passed through the whole body: and he that overcame the worst of it was yet marked with the loss of his extreme parts; for, breaking out both at their privy members, and at their fingers and toes, many with the loss of these escaped. There were also some that lost their eyes, and many that presently upon their recovery were taken with such an oblivion of all things whatsoever, as they neither knew themselves nor their acquaintance. For this was a kind of sickness which far surmounted all expression of words, and both exceeded human nature in the cruelty wherewith it handled, each one, and appeared also otherwise to be none of those diseases that are bred among us, and that especially by this: for all, both birds and beasts, that used to feed on human flesh, though many men lay abroad unburied, either came not at them, or tasting, perished. An argument whereof, as touching the birds, was the manifest defect of such fowl, which were not then seen, either about the carcases, or any where else; but by the dogs, because they are familiar with men, this effect was seen much clearer. So that this disease (to pass over many strange particulars of the accidents that some had differently from others) was in general such as I have shown; and for other usual sicknesses at that time, no man was troubled with any. Now they died, some for want of attendance, and some again with all the care and physic that could be used. Nor was there any, to say, certain medicine, that applied must have helped them; for if it did good to on, it did harm to another; nor any difference of body for strength or weakness that was able to resist it; but carried all away, what physic soever was administered. But the greatest misery of all was, the defection of mind, in such as found themselves beginning to be sick (for they grew presently desperate, and gave themselves over without making any resistance); as also their dying thus like sheep, infected by mutual visitation: for if men forbore to visit them for fear, then they died forlorn, whereby many families became empty, for want of such as should take care of them. If they forbore not, then they died themselves, and principally the honestest men: for out of shame they would not spare themselves, but went in unto their friends, especially after it was come to that pass, that even their domestics, wearied with the lamentations of them that died, and overcome with the greatness of the calamity, But those that were no longer moved therewith. crimes by judgment. But they thought there was now over their heads some far greater judg ment decreed against them; before which fell, they thought to enjoy some little part of their lives. THE PLAGUE OF ATHENS. UNHAPPY man! by Nature made to sway, To guard, to help, and to defend ; Our very guards rebel, and tyrannize. grim, a meagre, and a dreadful rout!) And with sure slowness do our bodies take; were recovered, had much compassion both on Within ourselves the fatal seed Of change, and of decrease in every part, Of our own nature turn to dust, But are expos'd to mighty tempests too, And our own force would melt away Of elements, which on each other prey, Which neither force nor arts asswage; On Ethiopia, and the southern sands, The unfrequented coasts, and parched lands, Whither the Sun too kind a heat doth send, (The Sun, which the worst neighbour is, and the best friend) Hither a mortal influence came, A fatal and unhappy flame, With dreadful frowns, the Heavens scatter'd here Threatening at once a general doom, In future ages to be innocent, Not to disturb the world for many years to come. Hold, Heavens! hold; why should your sacred fire Which doth to all things life inspire, Of all things in the womb of earth that breed, The earth, the air, the fields, the cities to annoy? That which before reviv'd, why should it now destroy? Those Afric deserts straight were double deserts grown, The ravenous beasts were left alone, The ravenous beasts then first began And blam'd the Plague for what they would themselves have done. Nor staid the cruel evil there, Nor could be long confin'd unto one air; The wilderness which they themselves do make. They a new booty and fresh forage find: The loaded wind went swiftly on, And as it pass'd, was heard to sigh and groan. On Egypt next it seiz'd, Nor could but by a general ruin be appeas'd, Egypt, in rage, back on the south did look, And wonder'd thence should come th' unhappy stroke, From whence before her fruitfulness she took. Egypt did now curse and revile Those very lands from whence she has her Nile; Egypt now fear'd another Hebrew god, Another angel's hand, a second Aaron's rod. Then on it goes, and through the sacred land And turn into another road the putrid air. Glutted with ruin of the east, She took her wings, and down to Athens pass'd; (Like frogs and mice) each other slay; And now the Asian plague did more An easy and a bootless prey; They saw the rampires empty stand, The fleets, the walls, the forts unmann'd. No need of cruelty or slaughters now, The plague had finish'd what they came to do; They might now unresisted enter there, Did they not the very air More than the Athenians fear. The air itself to them was wall and bulwarks too. Unhappy Athens! it is true thou wert But yet thou only thence art made Those mighty numbers that within thee Do only serve to make a fatter feast for Death. It loves no wilderness, No scatter'd villages, But mighty populous palaces, The throng, the tumult, and the town. What strange unheard-of conqueror is this, Which by the forces that resist it doth increase! When other conquerors are Oblig'd to make a slower war, Nay sometimes for themselves may fear, And must proceed with watchful care, When thicker troops of enemies appear; This stronger still, and more successful grows, Down sooner all before it throws, If greater multitudes of men do it oppose. The tyrant first the haven did subdue; Lest they new succour thence receive. |