06/23/2022
TO ALL INGENIOUS LOVERS OF POESY.
By Henry Vaughn
Gentlemen,
To you alone, whose more refined spirits out-wing these dull times, and soar above the drudgery of dirty intelligence, have I made sacred these fancies: I know the years, and what coarse entertainment they afford poetry. If any shall question that courage that durst send me abroad so late, and revel it thus in the dregs of an age, they have my silence: only,
Languescente seculo, liceat ægrotari.
My more calm ambition, amidst the common noise, hath thus exposed me to the world: you have here a flame, bright only in its own innocence, that kindles nothing but a generous thought: which though it may warm the blood, the fire at highest is but Platonic; and the commotion, within these limits, excludes danger. For the satire, it was of purpose borrowed to feather some slower hours; and what you see here is but the interest: it is one of his whose Roman pen had as much true passion for the infirmities of that state, as we should have pity[4] to the distractions of our own: honest—I am sure—it is, and offensive cannot be, except it meet with such spirits that will quarrel with antiquity, or purposely arraign themselves. These indeed may think that they have slept out so many centuries in this satire and are now awakened; which, had it been still Latin, perhaps their nap had been everlasting. But enough of these,—it is for you only that I have adventured thus far, and invaded the press with verse; to whose more noble indulgence I shall now leave it, and so am gone.—
H. V.
[5]
TO MY INGENUOUS FRIEND, R. W.
By Henry Vaughn
When we are dead, and now, no more
Our harmless mirth, our wit, and score
Distracts the town; when all is spent
That the base niggard world hath lent
Thy purse, or mine; when the loath'd noise
Of drawers, 'prentices and boys
Hath left us, and the clam'rous bar
Items no pints i' th' Moon or Star;
When no calm whisp'rers wait the doors,
To fright us with forgotten scores;
And such aged long bills carry,
As might start an antiquary;
When the sad tumults of the maze,
Arrests, suits, and the dreadful face
Of sergeants are not seen, and we
No lawyers' ruffs, or gowns must fee:
When all these mulcts are paid, and I
From thee, dear wit, must part, and die;
We'll beg the world would be so kind,
To give's one grave as we'd one mind;
There, as the wiser few suspect,
That spirits after death affect,
Our souls shall meet, and thence will they,
Freed from the tyranny of clay,
[6]
With equal wings, and ancient love
Into the Elysian fields remove,
Where in those blessèd walks they'll find
More of thy genius, and my mind.
First, in the shade of his own bays,
Great Ben they'll see, whose sacred lays
The learnèd ghosts admire, and throng
To catch the subject of his song.
Then Randolph in those holy meads,
His Lovers and Amyntas reads,
Whilst his Nightingale, close by,
Sings his and her own elegy.
From thence dismiss'd, by subtle roads,
Through airy paths and sad abodes,
They'll come into the drowsy fields
Of Lethe, which such virtue yields,
That, if what poets sing be true,
The streams all sorrow can subdue.
Here, on a silent, shady green,
The souls of lovers oft are seen,
Who, in their life's unhappy space,
Were murder'd by some perjur'd face.
All these th' enchanted streams frequent,
To drown their cares, and discontent,
That th' inconstant, cruel s*x
Might not in death their spirits vex.
And here our souls, big with delight
Of their new state, will cease their flight:
And now the last thoughts will appear,
[7]
They'll have of us, or any here;
But on those flow'ry banks will stay,
And drink all sense and cares away.
So they that did of these discuss,
Shall find their fables true in us.
[8]
Ingenuous is most often used to describe someone who has a childlike innocence and openness. It should not be confused with ingenious, which typically describes someone who is unusually inventive or
