ENGLISH POETRY 1579-1830: SPENSER AND THE TRADITION
Rev. William Cartwright
, "Upon Mr. Cartwright and his Poems" Cartwright, Comedies, Tragi-Comedies, with other Poems (1651) sigs. **5v-**6.
Rev. William Cartwright:
1651: Henry Lawes
1651: Henry Vaughan
1651: Rev. Thomas Vaughan
1651: Katherine Philips
1651: Humphrey Moseley
1651: Rev. Francis Palmer
1700 ca.: William King
1776: John Nichols
1800: Dr. Nathan Drake
1824: Bryan Waller Procter
1836: Richard Cattermole
1859: David Masson
1860: George Gilfillan
1880: A. W. Ward
Rev. Francis Palmer:
1651: Rev. William Cartwright
Great Queen of Shades bring here thy Flowers:
Cut down Elysium to make Bowers
For this sad Hearse: when that is done,
Then weep thy self into a Tomb.
Fates, tear your Books; no more's to do,
Unless you can Create a-new
Out of this Chaos: CARTWRIGHT'S dead,
And with him the World's Soul is fled.
Number by which all things were made,
Is now it self turn'd to a shade;
Nature must needs pine away,
To see her Masterpeece but Clay.
His hand could motion so dispence
To guide ev'n an Intelligence.
The Sun might not thus neerer come,
And burn the World before its Doome.
Who now shall tell us when we Love?
Sing all those pangs and Sighs we prove
When we enjoy; which sweeter Look,
And are more reall in his Book?
Beauty, which is Gods Excellence,
He made the object of the Sence:
Nature was troubled; She ne'r knew
The Rose and Lilly which he drew.
Love's Arrows often do recoile
From rocky Hearts without a Spoile;
But thy sure Quill still wounding sped,
And Virgins kiss'd it as they bled.
Those mortall Powers he did out-flie,
Courting sometimes Aeternity:
Unless that bliss were infinite,
Heaven had not past his Scheme of it.
Plato would say the Gods have Ears,
Who left the Musick of the Spheres,
Wishing he oft had faulty been
So he would thus confess his Sin.
These are but ashes of his fire:
He tun'd Philosophers to his Lyre;
Where thoughts when down he pleas'd to set,
They, like the Trees, in Numbers met.
He Aristotle has unbent,
Made Musick, what he riddles meant,
Cloath'd his own Reason, like his playes;
His Metaphysicks Claims the Bayes.
But he, and Stotevile (that Great Pair)
No longer could breath this dull air:
Nor need they Pyramids: who thus dye,
The Ground it self lifts to the Skie.
Pictures are drawn by mystick Art,
To naked Eyes that shew no part;
But if you put a Glass between,
Then all the Curious Lines are seen.
So look on CARTWRIGHT'S dust (though ne'r so far)
Through these few Papers, you'l behold a Star.