XIII. BRUTUS [w], AN ODE E XCELLENT Brutus, of all human race The beft, till nature was improv'd by grace, Till men above themselves faith raised more, Than reason above beasts, before. Virtue was thy life's centre, and from thence Did filently and conftantly difpenfe [w] The fubject of this ode feems to have been chofen by the poet, for the fake of venting his indignation against Cromwell. It has been generally fuppofed, that Mr. Cowley had no ear for harmony, and even no taste of elegant expreffion. And one should be apt to think fo, from his untuned verfe and rugged ftyle: but the cafe was only this: Donne and Jonfon were the favourite poets of the time, and therefore the models, on which our poet was ambitious to form himself. But unhappily thefe poets affected harsh numbers and uncouth expreffion; and what they affected, eafily came to be looked upon as beauties. Even Milton himself, in his younger days, fell into this delufion. [See his poem on Shakespear.] But the vigour of his genius, or, perhaps, his courfe of life, which led him out of the high-road of fashion, enabled him, in good time, to break through the fnare of exemplar vitiis imitabile. The court, which had worse things to answer for, kept poor Cowley eternally in it. He forfook the conversation (fays Dr. Sprat, who defigned him a compliment in the obfervation), but never THE LANGUAGE OF THE COURT. The The gentle vigorous influence To all the wide and fair circumference: Each had his motion natural and free, And the whole no more mov'd, than the whole world could be. 2. From the ftrict rule fome think that thou didft fwerve (Miftaken honeft men) in Cæfar's blood: What mercy could the tyrant's life deferve From him, who kill'd himself, rather than ferve? Th' heroic exaltations of good Are fo far from understood, We count them vice: alas, our fight's fo ill, But, as her beams reflected pafs And 'tis no wonder fo, If, with dejected eye, In ftanding pools we feek the sky, That stars, fo high above, should seem to us below. 3. Can we ftand by, and fee Our mother robb'd, and bound, and ravifh'd be, Yet Yet not to her affistance stir, Pleas'd with the ftrength and beauty of the ra visher [x]? Or, fhall we fear to kill him, if before The cancell'd name of friend he bore? There's none, but Brutus, could deserve That all men else should wish to serve, And Cæfar's ufurpt place to him should proffer; None can deferve't, but he, who would refufe the offer. 4. Ill fate affuin'd a body thee t' affright, [x] This is well put. But piety to the mother must not extinguish all regard for the mother's fons. Nothing contributed fo much, as the affaffination of the first Cæfar, to bring on all thofe tragedies, with which the gloomy and unappeafable jealousy of his fuccefors, afterwards, filled the Roman annals. The queftion is not, what Cæfar deserved, but what the true intereft of the Roman people required. For in thefe cafes, as Macbeth well observes, "we but teach "Bloody inftructions, which, being taught, return "To plague th' inventor" A. I. S. viii. I'll meet thee there, faidft thou, With fuch a voice, and fuch a brow, As put the trembling ghoft to fudden flight; It vanish'd, as a taper's light Goes out, when spirits appear in fight. One would have thought, t'had heard the morning crow, Or feen her well-appointed ftar But unfeen attack'd thee there. Had it prefum'd in any shape thee to oppofe, A conqueror, and a monarch, mightier far, than he. 5. What joy can human things to us afford, Ill men, and wretched accidents, The best cause, and best man that ever drew a fword? When we see The falfe Octavius, and wild Antony, God-like Brutus, conquer thee? What can we say, but thine own tragic word, By this fatal proof became An idol only, and a name ? The bold voice of thy generous difdain : Too deep for all thy judgment and thy wit. Which these great fecrets fhall unfeal, A few years more, fo foon hadft thou not dy'd, XIV To |