The Odes of Casimire Part 6

Wee erre (my _Dellius_) if wee take That baser path of life, the people make; In highest and remotest Hills Vertue sequesters up her selfe, and dwells.

There where the way more beaten lyes, Lesse certaine, and more slipp'ry alwayes 'tis.

From fruitlesse order, errours grow; Custome, not reason, drawes the people now.

Casu vivitur, & viam Non metam premimus, qua praeeuntium Per vestigia civium Insanae strepitus plebis, & improbae Voces invidiae vocant.

Exemplis trahimur & trahimus retr, Soli nemo sibi est malus, Nulli vita sua est: dum vaga postero Tubam turba premit gradu, Sunt primi exitio saepe sequentibus.

Men live by Chance, our time we spend I'th' way, like Truants, and forget the end, Where 'mid'st the throng of pa.s.sers by, The noyse of the mad rout, the hatefull cry Of envy, calls, wee're drawne amaine B'example; others wee draw back againe; No man is ill to himselfe alone, Nor no mans life is onely call'd his owne.

Whil'st that the rambling rout treads o're With after steps, the heeles of them before, They that goe formost are design'd A mischiefe oft to those that come behind.

Me Parna.s.sus & integer Plebeiis Helicon caetibus eripit Sublimem; unde vagantium Errores animorum, & male desidis Vulgi d.a.m.na patent. juvat Ex alto intrepidum colle jacentia Despectare pericula, & Cantum non propriis vivere casibus.

_Perna.s.sus_, and chaste _Helicon_ Sublimes and takes mee from the vulgar throng: From whence, the false mistakes I view And wandring mindes of the too slothfull crew; And from on hye I fearelesse see, With sport, the dangers that below me lye; Thus warily with joy I live, And by, other mens mischances I can thrive.

_Ad Sigismundum Laetum._

Gloriae inanis despicientiam & silentium commendat.

Ode 11. l. 4.

To Sigismundus Laetus.

_Hee Commends the despising of vaine-glory, and silence._

Od. 11. Lib. 4.

Laete, quid ca.s.sis sequimur fugacem Gloriam telis? fugit illa Mauri More, vel Parthi, regeritque ab ipso Vulnera tergo.

Hospes unius negat esse tecti Garrulus vulgi favor: hic inani Aure rumores legit, inde veris Falsa remiscet.

Why fleeting glory follow wee, _Laetus_, with weapons all in vaine?

When like a Moore, or Parthian, shee Flyes at her backe with wounded Trayne.

The Talking-peoples love, denyes Under one roofe a guest to fix: With's empty care, one takes up lyes, And them with truths, doth subt'ly mix,

Hic velut nidum positurus haesit, Mox ubi vano vacuum tumultu Pectus illusit, tacitis in altum Subsilit alis, Vera laus sciri fugit. ipse pulcher Se sua t.i.tan prohibet videri Luce: qui totus potuit latere, Major habetur.

Another sticks, and thinkes to build His nest: but when he plainly sees His empty breast with noise beguild, Aloft with silent wings, hee flees.

True praise would not be knowne; the Sun Forbids from being seen below By his own light: and hee that can Ecclipse himselfe, doth brighter show.

Qui premit sacram taciturnitate Pectoris gazam; bene non silenti Tutus in vulgo bene suspicaci Regnat in aula.

Praeterit mutas bene cymba ripas; Quae simul raucis strepuere saxis, In latus cautam sapiens memento Avertere proram.

Hee that in silence, of his mind The sacred Treasury containes; Safety i'th' vulgar noyse doth find: In's doubtfull Court, and wisely raignes.

Still banks thy Pinnace well may pa.s.se.

But when with hoa.r.s.e rocks they do roare, Remember wisely to forecast And turn't aside with wary Oare.

_Ad Ianum Libinium._

Solitudinem suam excusat.

_Ode 12. Lib 4._

To Ia.n.u.s Libinius.

_Hee excuses his retyrednesse._

_Ode 12. Lib. 4._

Quid me latentem sub tenui lare Dudum moretur, c.u.m mihi civium Amica certatim patescant Atria, saepe rogas _Libini_.

Me plenus, extra quid cupiam? meo In memet ipsum clausus ab ostio, In se recedentis reviso Scenam animi vacuumq; rel.u.s.tro Vitae theatrum, sollicitus mei Spectator, an quae fabula prodii Matura procedam, & supremo Numinis excipienda plausu.

Omnes recenset numen, & approbat Vel culpat actus: quo mea judice Si scena non leve peracta est, Sim populo sine teste felix.

What 'tis detaines me here, and why-- I hide my selfe from every eye.

How in so poore a house I spend My houres, y'have often ask'd me, friend; When the free Courts of free-borne men, Fall out, which first shall let me in.

I enjoy my selfe, what need I more?

Of every sense I lock the dore; And close shut up, a taske I find In the retyring house o'th' mind: The Theatre of my life I view My owne spectator and iudge too-- Whether the tale I first begun In well digested Acts I'ue spun; In every scene, if every clause Goes neatly off, with heav'ns applause: Each Action scan'd, is there set free Or sentenc'd by authoritie-- If there, with _well Done_ I escape, I'me blest without the peoples clap.

Odi loquacis compita gloriae Plebeia: quam c.u.m fama faventibus Evexit auris, saepe misso Invidiae stimulata telo, Aut invidentum territa vocibus, Parum obstinatis & male fortibus Dimitt.i.t alis. Illa nudam Plangit humum, lacerosq; saxis Affligit artus. Me melius tegat Privata virtus, & popularia Numquam volaturum per ora Celet iners sine laude tectum.

Semota laudem si meruit, vetat Audire virtus. tutius invidi Longinqua miramur: propinquis Laevus amat comes ire Livor.

I hate the common road of praise, Or what the gaping vulgar raise, Which with a pleasant gale a while Fame hurries, but doth soone beguile: Now Envie's sting it feeles, ere long Th'Artillery of some spightfull tongue: Thus chac'd, with weak'ned wings it dyes; Or torne, on the bare ground it lyes.

A private fame, a meane house, where I live conceal'd from popular ayre, Best fits my mind, and shelters me: Vertue t'her owne praise deafe should be.

Our emulation, things a farre off command, But Envy haunts things that are neere at hand.

_Ad Caesarem Pausilippium._

Adversa constanti animo ferenda esse.

_Ode 13. Lib. 4._

Si quae flent mala lugubres Auferrent oculi, Sidoniisego Mercarer bene lacrymas Gemmis, aut teretum merce monilium, At ceu rore seges viret, Sic cresc.u.n.t riguis tristia fletibus.

Urget lacryma lacrymam; Fecundusq; sui se numerat Dolor.

Quem fortuna semel virum Udo degenerem lumine viderit, Illum saepe ferit; mala Terrentur tacito fatae silentio.

Ne te, ne tua fleveris Quae tu, care, vocas, _Pausilipi_, mala, Quam pellunt lacrymae, fovent Sortem: dura negant cedere mollibus.

Siccas si videat genas, Durae cedet hebes sors patientiae.

To Caesar Pausilippius.

_That adversity is to bee endured with a constant mind._