A poem about vainglory

Continuing the discussion from Escapism. Is this you?
and from Gaming with Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder

Knight at the Crossroads (1878) by Viktor M. Vasnetsov (1848–1926)


IMITATIONS OF HORACE

By Alexander Pope (1688–1744)

The Sixth Epistle of the First Book of Horace.

To Mr. Murray. [1]

“Not to admire, is all the art I know,
To make men happy, and to keep them so.”

(Plain truth, dear Murray, needs no flowers of speech,
So take it in the very words of Creech.) [2]

This vault of air, this congregated ball,
Self-centred sun, and stars that rise and fall,
There are, my friend! whose philosophic eyes
Look through, and trust the ruler with his skies,
To him commit the hour, the day, the year,
And view this dreadful All without a fear.

Admire we then what earth’s low entrails hold,
Arabian shores, or Indian seas infold;
All the mad trade of fools and slaves for gold?
Or popularity? or stars and strings?
The mob’s applauses, or the gifts of kings?
Say with what eyes we ought at courts to gaze,
And pay the great our homage of amaze?

. . .

Go then, and if you can, admire the state
Of beaming diamonds, and reflected plate;
Procure a Taste to double the surprise,
And gaze on Parian charms with learned eyes:
Be struck with bright brocade, or Tyrian dye,
Our birth-day nobles’ splendid livery.
If not so pleased, at council-board rejoice,
To see their judgments hang upon thy voice;
From morn to night, at senate, rolls, and hall,
Plead much, read more, dine late, or not at all.
But wherefore all this labour, all this strife?
For fame, for riches, for a noble wife?

Shall one whom nature, learning, birth, conspired
To form, not to admire, but be admired,
Sigh, while his Chloe, blind to wit and worth,
Weds the rich dulness of some son of earth?
Yet time ennobles, or degrades each line;
It brighten’d Craggs’s, and may darken thine: [3]
And what is fame? the meanest have their day,
The greatest can but blaze, and pass away.
Graced as thou art, with all the power of words,
So known, so honour’d, at the house of lords:
Conspicuous scene! another yet is nigh,
(More silent far) where kings and poets lie;
Where Murray (long enough his country’s pride)
Shall be no more than Tully, or than Hyde! [4] [5]

Rack’d with sciatics, martyr’d with the stone,
Will any mortal let himself alone?
See Ward by batter’d beaus invited over, [6]
And desperate misery lays hold on Dover.
The case is easier in the mind’s disease;
There all men may be cured, whene’er they please.
Would ye be blest? despise low joys, low gains;
Disdain whatever Cornbury disdains;
[7]
Be virtuous, and be happy for your pains.

. . .


Endnotes:

[1] William Murray, 1st earl of Mansfield (1705–1793), chief justice of the King’s Bench of Great Britain from 1756 to 1788, who made important contributions to commercial law.
[2] Thomas Creech (1659–1700), from whose translation of Horace the two first lines are taken.
[3] James Craggs the Elder (1657–1721) and the Younger (1686–1721).
[4] Marcus Tullius Cicero, English byname Tully (106 – 43 BCE).
[5] Edward Hyde, 3rd Earl of Clarendon (1661–1723).
[6] Ned Ward (1667–1731).
[7] Henry Hyde, Viscount Cornbury (1710–1753).

1 Like

Nice Poem

I guess I will have those verse when I will dodge in KC

From Cyrano de Bergerac - Edmond Rostand:

Original French
Je jette avec grâce mon feutre,
Je fais lentement l’abandon
Du grand manteau qui me calfeutre,
Et je tire mon espadon;
Élégant comme Céladon,
Agile comme Scaramouche,
Je vous préviens, cher Mirmidon,
Qu’à la fin de l’envoi, je touche!

Vous auriez bien dû rester neutre;
Où vais-je vous larder, dindon?..
Dans le flanc, sous votre maheutre?..
Au coeur, sous votre bleu cordon?..
Les coquilles tintent, ding-dong!
Ma pointe voltige: une mouche!
Décidément… c’est au bedon,
Qu’à la fin de l’envoi, je touche.

Il me manque une rime en eutre…
Vous rompez, plus blanc qu’amidon?
C’est pour me fournir le mot pleutre!
Tac! je pare la pointe dont
Vous espériez me faire don:
J’ouvre la ligne, je la bouche…
Tiens bien ta broche, Laridon!
A la fin de l’envoi, je touche.

Prince, demande à Dieu pardon!
Je quarte du pied, j’escarmouche,
Je coupe, je feinte… Hé! Là donc!
A la fin de l’envoi, je touche.

English
My hat is flung swiftly away;
My cloak is thrown off, if you please;
And my sword, always eager to play,
Flies out of the scabbard I seize.
My sword, I confess, is a tease,
With a nimble and mischievous brain;
And it knows, as the blade makes a breeze,
I shall strike as I end the refrain.

You should have kept quiet today.
I could carve you, my friend, by degrees.
But where? For a start, shall we say
In the side? Or the narrowest squeeze
’Twixt your ribs, while your arteries freeze,
And my point makes a sly meaning plain?
Guard that paunch! You’re beginning to wheeze!
I shall strike as I end the refrain.

I need a word rhyming with a eutre (rhyme with pleutre - clay in the translation)
For, look, you turn paler than cheese
And wider than – there’s the word! – Clay.
Your week thrusts I parry with ease;
Too late now to pause or appease.
Hold onto your spit, though in pain,
For if you’ll permit the reprise –
I shall strike as I end the refrain.

Pray God, prince, to pardon all these
Poor efforts of yours, all in vain.
I thrust as you sink to your knees;
And I strike – as I end the refrain!

All the world’s a stage,
And all the men and women merely players;
They have their exits and their entrances,
And one man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages. At first, the infant,
Mewling and puking in the nurse’s arms.
Then the whining schoolboy, with his satchel
And shining morning face, creeping like snail
Unwillingly to school. And then the lover,
Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad
Made to his mistress’ eyebrow. Then a soldier,
Full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard,
Jealous in honor, sudden and quick in quarrel,
Seeking the bubble reputation
Even in the cannon’s mouth. And then the justice,
In fair round belly with good capon lined,
With eyes severe and beard of formal cut,
Full of wise saws and modern instances;
And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts
Into the lean and slippered pantaloon,
With spectacles on nose and pouch on side;
His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide
For his shrunk shank, and his big manly voice,
Turning again toward childish treble, pipes
And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all,
That ends this strange eventful history,
Is second childishness and mere oblivion,
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.”

William Shakespeare, 1564 - 1616
As You Like It, Act II, Scene VII