Thy scope is mortai, mine eternal fame,
That all the world might ever chaunt my name.
Homer shall live while 'Tenedos stands and Ide,
Or to the sea swift Simois doth slide.
Ascreus lives, while grapes with new wine swell,
Or men with crooked sickles corn down fell.
The world shall of Callimachus ever speak,
His art excell'd, although his wit was weak.
For ever lasts high Sophocles' proud vein,
With sun and moon Eratus shall remain.
While bondmen cheat, fathers hoard, bawds whorish,
And strumpets flatter, shall Menander flourish.
Rude Ennius, and Plautus full of wit,
Are both in Fame's eternal legend writ.
What age of Varro's name shall not be told,
And Jason's Argos, and the fleece of gold?
Lofty Lucretius shall live that hour,
That nature shall dissolve this earthly bower.
Enæas' war and Tityrus shall be read,
While Rome of all the conquering world is head.
Till Cupid's bow, and fiery shafts be broken,
Thy verses sweet Tibullus shall be spoken.
And Gallus shall be known from East to West,
So shall Lycoris whom he loved best.
Therefore when flint and iron wear away,
Verse is immortal and shall ne'er decay.
To verse let kings give place and kingly shows,
And banks o'er which gold-bearing Tagus flows.
Let base conceited wits admire vile things,
Fair Phoebus lead me to the Muses' springs.
About my head be quivering myrtle wound,
And in sad lovers' heads let me be found.
The living, not the dead, can envy bite,
For after death all men receive their right.
Then though death rakes my bones in funeral fire, I'll live, and as he pulls me down mount higher.
ENVY, why twit'st thou me, my time's
spent ill?
And call'st my verse fruits of an idle quill?
Or that (unlike the line from whence I sprung)
Wars dusty honors I pursue not young?
Or that I study not the tedious laws;
And prostitute my voice in every cause?
Thy scope is mortal; mine eternal fame,
Which through the world shall ever chaunt my name.
Homer will live, whilst Tenedos stands, and Ide,
Or to the sea, fleet Symois doth slide:
And so shall Hesiod too, while vines do bear,
Or crooked sickles crop the ripened ear;
Callimachus, though in invention low,
Shall still be sung, since he in art doth flow.
No loss shall come to Sophocles' proud vein;
With sun and moon Eratus shall remain.
* This version was probably from the pen of Ben Jonson, and if so, we have an additional reason for supposing that the edition which contains it was not published in Marlowe's lifetime, since Jonson was not born until 1574, and had not, we believe, commenced author at the time of Marlowe's death.
While slaves be false, fathers hard, and bawds be
While harlots flatter, shall Menander flourish.
Ennius, though rude, and Accius' high-rear'd strain,
A fresh applause in every age shall gain,
Of Varro's name, what ear shall not be told?
Of Jason's Argo? and the fleece of gold?
Then, shall Lucretius' lofty numbers die,
When earth, and seas in fire and flames shall fry.
Tityrus, tillage, Enæas shall be read,
Whilst Rome of all the conquer'd world is head.
Till Cupid's fires be out, and his bow broken,
Thy verses (neat Tibullus) shall be spoken.
Our Gallus shall be known from East to West,
So shall Lycoris, whom he now loves best.
The suffering ploughshear or the flint may wear,
But heavenly poesy no death can fear.
Kings shall give place to it, and kingly shows,
The banks o'er which gold-bearing Tagus flows.
Kneel hinds to trash: me let bright Phoebus swell,
With cups full flowing from the Muses' well.
The frost-dread myrtle shall impale my head,
And of sad lovers I'll be often read.
"Envy the living, not the dead doth bite,
"For after death all men receive their right."
Then when this body falls in funeral fire,
My name shall live, and my best part aspire.
P. OVIDII NASONIS AMORUM,
Quod pro gigantomachia amores scribere sit coactus.
I, OviD, poet, of my wantonness,
Born at Peligny, to write more address.
So Cupid wills; far hence be the severe,
You are unapt my looser lines to hear.
Let maids whom hot desire to husbands lead,
And rude boys, touch'd with unknown love, me read:
That some youth hurt, as I am, with Love's bow,
His own flames' best acquainted signs may know.
And long admiring say, by what means learn'd,
Hath this same poet my sad chance discern'd?
I durst the great celestial battles tell,
Hundred-hand Gyges, and had done it well;
With Earth's revenge and how Olympus top,
High Ossa bore, mount Pelion up to prop.
Jove and Jove's thunderbolts I had in hand,
Which for his heaven fell on the giants' band.
My wench her door shut, love's affairs I left,
Even Jove himself out of my wit was reft.
Pardon me, Jove, thy weapons aid me nought,
Her shut gates greater lightning than thine brought.
Toys and light elegies my darts I took,
Quickly soft words hard doors wide open stuck.
Verses reduce the horned bloody moon,
And call the sun's white horses back at noon.
Snakes leap by verse from caves of broken mountains,
And turned streams run backward to their fountains.
Verses ope doors, and locks put in the post,
Although of oak, to yeild to verses boast;
What helps it me of fierce Achill to sing?
What good to me will either Ajax bring?
Or he who warr'd and wandered twenty year?
Or woeful Hector whom wild horses tear?
But when I praise a pretty wench's face
She in requital doth me oft embrace.
A great reward: Heroes of famous names
Farewell! your favour nought my mind inflames.
Wenches apply your fair looks to my verse,
Which golden love doth unto me rehearse.
Ad Bagoum, ut custodiam puellæ sibi commissæ laxiorem
BAGOUS, whose care doth thy mistress bridle,
While I speak some few, yet fit words, be idle.
I saw the damsel walking yesterday,
There, where the porch doth Danaus' fact display:
She pleas'd me soon, I sent, and did her woo,
Her trembling hand writ back she might not do.
And asking why, this answer she redoubled
Because thy care too much thy mistress troubled.
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