Mischief and true dishonour fall on those Who would to laughter or to scorn expose So virtuous and so noble a design, So human for its use, for knowledge so divine. The things which these proud men despise, and call 150 Impertinent, and vain, and small, Those smallest things of nature let me know, Rather than all their greatest actions do. Whoever would deposèd truth advance Into the throne usurped from it, 155 Must feel at first the blows of ignorance, And the sharp points of envious wit. So when, by various turns of the celestial dance, In many thousand years A star, so long unknown, appears, 160 Though heaven itself more beauteous by it grow, It troubles and alarms the world below, Does to the wise a star, to fools a meteor, show. With courage and success you the bold work begin; Your cradle has not idle been; 165 None e’er but Hercules and you would be At five years’ age worthy a history: And ne’er did fortune better yet The historian to the story fit. As you from all old errors free 170 And purge the body of Philosophy, So from all modern follies he Has vindicated eloquence and wit: His candid style like a clean stream does slide, And his bright fancy all the way 175 Does, like the sunshine, in it play; It does like Thames, the best of rivers, glide, Where the god does not rudely overturn, But gently pour, the crystal urn, And with judicious hand does the whole current guide. ’T has all the beauties Nature can impart, 181 And all the comely dress, without the paint, of Art. _Abraham Cowley._ CVII _THE DREAM._ No victor that in battle spent, When he at night asleep doth lie Rich in a conquered monarch’s tent, E’er had so vain a dream as I. Methought I saw the earliest shade 5 And sweetest that the spring can spread, Of jasmin, briar, and woodbine made; And there I saw Clorinda dead. Though dead she lay, yet could I see No cypress nor no mourning yew; 10 Nor yet the injured lover’s tree; No willow near her coffin grew. But all showed unconcerned to be, As if just Nature there did strive To be as pitiless as she 15 Was to her lover when alive. And now, methought, I lost all care, In losing her; and was as free As birds let loose into the air, Or rivers that are got to sea. 20 Methought Love’s monarchy was gone; And whilst elective numbers sway, Our choice and change makes power our own, And those court us whom we obey.