| STRANGE and unnatural! lets stay and see | |
| This Pageant of a Prodigie. | |
| Lo, of themselves th'enlivened Chesmen move, | |
| Lo, the unbred, ill-organ'd Pieces prove, | |
| As full of Art, and Industrie, | 5 |
| Of Courage and of Policie, | |
| As we our selves who think ther's nothing Wise but We. | |
| Here a proud Pawn I'admire | |
| That still advancing higher | |
| At top of all became | 10 |
| Another Thing and Name. | |
| Here I'm amaz'ed at th'actions of a Knight, | |
| That does bold wonders in the fight. | |
| Here I the losing party blame | |
| For those false Moves that break the Game, | 15 |
| That to their Grave the Bag, the conquered Pieces bring, | |
| And above all, th' ill Conduct of the Mated King. | |
| What e're these seem, what e're Philosophie | |
| And Sense or Reason tell (said I) | |
| These Things have Life, Election, Libertie; | 20 |
| 'Tis their own Wisdom molds their State, | |
| Their Faults and Virtues make their Fate. | |
| They do, they do (said I) but strait | |
| Lo from my'enlightned Eyes the Mists and shadows fell | |
| That hinder Spirits from being Visible. | 25 |
| And, lo, I saw two Angels plaid the Mate. | |
| With Man, alas, no otherwise it proves, | |
| An unseen Hand makes all their Moves. | |
| And some are Great, and some are Small, | |
| Some climb to good, some from good Fortune fall, | 30 |
| Some Wisemen, and some Fools we call, | |
| Figures, alas, of Speech, for Desti'ny plays us all. | |
| |
| Me from the womb the Midwife Muse did take: | |
| She cut my Navel, washt me, and mine Head | |
| With her own Hands she Fashioned; | 35 |
| She did a Covenant with me make, | |
| And circumcis'ed my tender Soul, and thus she spake, | |
| Thou of my Church shalt be, | |
| Hate and renounce (said she) | |
| Wealth, Honor, Pleasures, all the World for Me | 40 |
| Thou neither great at Court, nor in the War, | |
| Nor at th' Exchange shalt be, nor at the wrangling Bar. | |
| Content thy self with the small Barren Praise, | |
| That neglected Verse does raise. | |
| She spake, and all my years to come | 45 |
| Took their unlucky Doom. | |
| Their several ways of Life let others chuse, | |
| Their several pleasures let them use, | |
| But I was born for Love, and for a Muse. | |
| With Fate what boots it to contend? | 50 |
| Such I began, such am, and so must end. | |
| The Star that did my Being frame, | |
| Was but a Lambent Flame, | |
| And some small Light it did dispence, | |
| But neither Heat nor Influence. | 55 |
| No Matter, Cowley, let proud Fortune see, | |
| That thou canst her despise no less then she does Thee. | |
| Let all her gifts the portion be | |
| Of Folly, Lust, and Flattery, | |
| Fraud, Extortion, Calumnie, | 60 |
| Murder, Infidelitie, | |
| Rebellion and Hypocrisie. | |
| Do Thou nor grieve nor blush to be, | |
| As all th'inspired tuneful Men, | |
| And all thy great Forefathers were from Homer down to Ben. | 65 |
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