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Poemata: Latin, Greek and Italian Poems Latin, Greek and Italian Poems by John Milton

Complimentary Pieces Addressed to the Author.^[1]

Well as the author knows that the following testimonies are not so much about as above him, and that men of great ingenuity, as well as our friends, are apt, through abundant zeal, so to praise us as rather to draw their own likeness than ours, he was yet unwilling that the world should remain always ignorant of compositions that do him so much honour; and especially because he has other friends, who have, with much importunity, solicited their publication. Aware that excessive commendation awakens envy, he would with both hands thrust it from him, preferring just so much of that dangerous tribute as may of right belong to him; but at the same time he cannot deny that he sets the highest value on the suffrages of judicious and distinguished persons.^[2]

The Neapolitan, Giovanni Battista Manso, Marquis of Villa, to the Englishman, John Milton.

What features, form, mien, manners, with a mind Oh how intelligent, and how refined! Were but thy piety from fault as free, Thou wouldst no Angle^[3] but an Angel be.

An Epigram Addressed to the Englishman, John Milton, a Poet Worthy of the Three Laurels of Poesy, the Grecian, Latin, and Etruscan, by Giovanni Salzilli of Rome

Meles^[4] and Mincio both your urns depress!

Sebetus, boast henceforth thy Tasso less!

But let the Thames o'erpeer all floods, since he,

For Milton famed, shall, single, match the three.

To John Milton.

Greece sound thy Homer's, Rome thy Virgil's name, But England's Milton equals both in fame. —Selvaggi.

To John Milton, English Gentleman.

An Ode.

Exalt Me, Clio,^[5]to the skies,

That I may form a starry crown,

Beyond what Helicon supplies

In laureate garlands of renown;

To nobler worth be brighter glory given,

And to a heavenly mind a recompense from heaven.

Time's wasteful hunger cannot prey

On everlasting high desert,

Nor can Oblivion steal away

Its record graven on the heart;

Lodge but an arrow, Virtue, on the bow

That binds my lyre, and death shall be a vanquished foe.

In Ocean's blazing flood enshrined.

Whose vassal tide around her swells,

Albion. from other realms disjoined,

The prowess of the world excels;

She teems with heroes that to glory rise,

With more than human force in our astonished eyes.

To Virtue, driven from other lands,

Their bosoms yield a safe retreat;

Her law alone their deed commands,

Her smiles they feel divinely sweet;

Confirm my record, Milton, generous youth!

And by true virtue prove thy virtue's praise a truth.

Zeuxis, all energy and flaine,

Set ardent forth in his career,

Urged to his task by Helen's fame,

Resounding ever in his ear;

To make his image to her beauty true,

From the collected fair each sovereign charm he drew.^[6]

The bee, with subtlest skill endued,

Thus toils to earn her precious juice,

From all the flowery myriads strewed

O'er meadow and parterre profuse;

Confederate voices one sweet air compound,

And various chords consent in one harmonious sound.

An artist of celestial aim,

Thy genius, caught by moral grace,

With ardent emulation's flame

The steps of Virtue toiled to trace,

Observed in everv land who brightest shone,

And blending all their best, make perfect good thy own.

Front all in Florence born, or taught

Our country's sweetest accent there,

Whose works, with learned labor wrought,

Immortal honors justly share,

Then hast such treasure drawn of purest ore,

That not even Tuscan bards can boast a richer store.

Babel, confused, and with her towers

Unfinished spreading wide and plain,

Has served but to evince thy powers,

With all hot, tongues confused in vain,

Since not alone thy England's purest phrase,

But every polished realm thy various speech displays.

The secret things of heaven and earth,

By nature, too reserved. concealed

From other minds of highest worth,

To thee ate copiously revealed;

Thou knowest them clearly, and thy views attain

The utmost bounds prescribed to moral truth's domain.

Let Time no snore his wing display,

And boast his ruinous career,

For Virtue, rescued front his sway.

His injuries may cease to fear;

Since all events that claim remembrance find

A chronicle exact in thy capacious mind.

Give me, that I may praise thy song,

Thy lyre, by which alone I can,

Which, placing thee the stars among,

Already proves thee more than man;

And Thames shall seem Permessus,^[7]while his stream

Graced with a swan like thee. shall be my favorite theme.

I, who beside the Arno, strain

To match thy merit with my lays,

Learn, after many an effort vain,

To admure thee rather than to praise;

And that by mute astonishment alone,

Not by the fathering tongue, thy worth may best be shown.

—Signor Antonio Francini, Gentleman, of Florence.

To Mr. John Milton of London

A youth eminent from his country and his virtues,

Who in his travels has made himself acquainted with many nations, and in his studies, with all, that, life another Ulysses, lie might learn all that all could teach him;

Skilful in many tongues, on whose lips languages now mute so live again, that the idioms of all are insufficient to his praise; happy acquisition by which he understands the universal admiration and applause his talents trace excited;

Whose endowments of mind and person move us to wonder, but at the same time fix us immovable: whose works prompt us to extol him, but by their beauty strike us mute;

In whose memory the whole world is treasured; in whose intellect, wisdom; in whose heart, the ardent desire for glory; and in whose mouth, eloquence. Who with Astronomy for his conductor, hears the music of the spheres; with Philosophy for the teacher, deciphers the hand–writing of God, in those wonders of creation which proclaim His greatness; and with the most unwearied literary industry for his associate, examines, restores, penetrates with case the obscurities of antiquity, the desolations of ages, and the labyrinths of learning;

"But wherefore toil to reach these arduous heights?"

To him, in short, whose virtues the mouths of Fame are too few to celebrate, and whom astonishment forbids us to praise a he deserves, this tribute due to his merits, and the offering of reverence and affection, is paid by Carlo Dati, a patrician Florentine.

This great man's servant, and this good man's friend.

In Miltonum.^[8]

Tres tria, sed longe distantia, saecula vates Ostentant tribus e gentibus eximios. Graecia sublimem, cum majestate disertum Roma tulit, felix Anglia utrique parem. Partubus ex binis Natura exhausta, coacta est, Tertis ut fieret, consociare duos. —Joannem Dridenum.

Stanzas on the Late Indecent Liberties Taken with the Remains of the Great Milton, by Wm. Cowper, Esq.^[9]

Me too, perchance, in future days,

The sculptur'd stone shall show,

With Paphian myrtle, or with bays

Parnessian, on my brow.

But I, before that season come,

Escap'd from ev'ry care,

Shall reach my refuge in the tomb,

And sleep securely there.

So sang in Roman tone and style

The youthful bard, ere long

Ordain'd to grace his native isle