A Paraphrase on an Ode in Horace’s Third Book, beginning thus:— “Inclusam Danaen turris ahenea.” by Abraham Cowley
I.
A tower of brass, one would have said,
And locks, and bolts, and iron bars,
And guards as strict as in the heat of wars
Might have preserved one innocent maidenhood.
The jealous father thought he well might spare
All further jealous care;
And as he walked, to himself alone he smiled
To think how Venus’ arts he had beguiled;
And when he slept his rest was deep,
But Venus laughed to see and hear him sleep.
She taught the amorous Jove
A magical receipt in love,
Which armed him stronger and which helped him more
Than all his thunder did and his almightyship before.
II.
She taught him love’s elixir, by which art
His godhead into gold he did convert;
No guards did then his passage stay,
He passed with ease, gold was the word;
Subtle as lightning, bright, and quick, and fierce,
Gold through doors and walls did pierce;
And as that works sometimes upon the sword,
Melted the maiden dread away,
Even in the secret scabbard where it lay.
The prudent Macedonian king,
To blow up towns, a golden mine did spring;
He broke through gates with this petar,
’Tis the great art of peace, the engine ’tis of war,
And fleets and armies follow it afar;
The ensign ’tis at land, and ’tis the seaman’s scar.
III.
Let all the world slave to this tyrant be,
Creature to this disguisèd deity,
Yet it shall never conquer me.
A guard of virtues will not let it pass,
And wisdom is a tower of stronger brass.
The muses’ laurel, round my temples spread,
Does from this lightning’s force secure my head,
Nor will I lift it up so high,
As in the violent meteor’s way to lie.
Wealth for its power do we honour and adore?
The things we hate, ill fate, and death, have more.
IV.
From towns and courts, camps of the rich and great,
The vast Xerxean army, I retreat,
And to the small Laconic forces fly
Which hold the straits of poverty.
Cellars and granaries in vain we fill
With all the bounteous summer’s store:
If the mind thirst and hunger still,
The poor rich man’s emphatically poor.
Slaves to the things we too much prize,
We masters grow of all that we despise.
V.
A field of corn, a fountain, and a wood,
Is all the wealth by nature understood.
The monarch on whom fertile Nile bestows
All which that grateful earth can bear,
Deceives himself, if he suppose
That more than this falls to his share.
Whatever an estate does beyond this afford,
Is not a rent paid to the Lord;
But is a tax illegal and unjust,
Exacted from it by the tyrant lust.
Much will always wanting be,
To him who much desires. Thrice happy he
To whom the wise indulgency of Heaven,
With sparing hand but just enough has given.
Other works by Abraham Cowley:
Some works by other baroque authors
- Keepe On Your Maske And Hide Your Eye by William Strode
- Justification by William Strode
- Jacke-On-Both-Sides by William Strode
- William Strode – William Strode
- In Commendation Of Musick by William Strode
- Her Epitaph by William Strode
- For A Gentleman, Who, Kissinge His Friend At His Departure Left A Signe Of Blood On Her by William Strode
- Epitaph On Mr. Bridgeman by William Strode
- Consolatorium, Ad Parentes by William Strode
- Chloris in the Snow by William Strode
- Anthem For Good Fryday by William Strode
- An Epitaph On Sr John Walter, Lord Cheife Baron by William Strode
- An Epitaph On Mr. Fishborne The Great London Benefactor, And His Executor by William Strode
- An Eare-Stringe by William Strode
- An Antheme by William Strode
- A Watch-String by William Strode
- A Watch Sent Home To Mrs. Eliz: King, Wrapt In Theis Verses by William Strode
- A Translation Of The Nightingale Out Of Strada by William Strode
- A Superscription On Sir Philip Sidney’s Arcadia, Sent For A Token by William Strode
- A Strange Gentlewoman Passing By His Window by William Strode
- A Song On The Baths by William Strode
- A Song On A Sigh by William Strode
- A Riddle: On A Kiss by William Strode
- A Purse-String by William Strode
- A Paralell Between Bowling And Preferment by William Strode
- A New Year’s Gift by William Strode
- A Necklace by William Strode
- A Lover To His Mistress by William Strode
- A Girdle by William Strode
- Sonnet 127: In the old age black was not counted fair by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 126: O thou, my lovely boy, who in thy power by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 125: Were’t aught to me I bore the canopy by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 124: If my dear love were but the child of state by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 123: No, Time, thou shalt not boast that I do change by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 122: Thy gift, thy tables, are within my brain by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 121: Tis better to be vile than vile esteemed by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 120: That you were once unkind befriends me now by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 11: As fast as thou shalt wane, so fast thou grow’st by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 119: What potions have I drunk of Siren tears by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 118: Like as to make our appetite more keen by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 117: Accuse me thus: that I have scanted all by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 116: Let me not to the marriage of true minds by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 115: Those lines that I before have writ do lie by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 114: Or whether doth my mind, being crowned with you by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 113: Since I left you, mine eye is in my mind by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 112: Your love and pity doth th’ impression fill by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 111: O, for my sake do you with Fortune chide by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 110: Alas, ’tis true, I have gone here and there by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 10: For shame, deny that thou bear’st love to any by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 109: O, never say that I was false of heart by William Shakespeare
Abraham Cowley (1618 – 1667), the Royalist Poet.Poet and essayist Abraham Cowley was born in London, England, in 1618. He displayed early talent as a poet, publishing his first collection of poetry, Poetical Blossoms (1633), at the age of 15. Cowley studied at Cambridge University but was stripped of his Cambridge fellowship during the English Civil War and expelled for refusing to sign the Solemn League and Covenant of 1644. In turn, he accompanied Queen Henrietta Maria to France, where he spent 12 years in exile, serving as her secretary. During this time, Cowley completed The Mistress (1647). Arguably his most famous work, the collection exemplifies Cowley’s metaphysical style of love poetry. After the Restoration, Cowley returned to England, where he was reinstated as a Cambridge fellow and earned his MD before finally retiring to the English countryside. He is buried at Westminster Abbey alongside Geoffrey Chaucer and Edmund Spenser. Cowley is a wonderful poet and an outstanding representative of the English baroque.