A Paraphrase on an Ode in Horace’s Third Book, beginning thus:— “Inclusam Danaen turris ahenea.” by Abraham Cowley

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

• Field Sports by William Somervile
• Epistle from Mr. Somerville, An by William Somervile
• Chase, The – Book 1 by William Somervile
• All-Accomplished Rover by William Somervile
• Advice to the Ladies by William Somervile
• Address to His Elbow-Chair, New Cloath’d, An by William Somervile
• A Padlock for the Mouth by William Somervile
• Upon a Lady’s Fall Over a Stile, Gotten by Running From Her Love by William Wycherley
• To his Indifferent Mistress by William Wycherley
• The Poor Lover to His Rich Mistress about to Marry His Coxcombly Rival by William Wycherley
• Sleep and Death by William Wycherley
• On a Sea Fight, Which the Author was in, Betwixt the English and Dutch by William Wycherley
• Love and Wine by William Wycherley
• In Praise of Laziness by William Wycherley
• Drinking-Song, A. To a Formal, Proud, Sober Coxcomb by William Wycherley
• A Consolation to Cuckholds by William Wycherley poems
• The Hecatomb to his Mistress by John Cleveland