AN ODE by WILLIAM BROWNE (1591-1643)

Awake faire Muse; for I intend
These everlasting lines to thee,
And, honor'd Drayton, come and lend
An eare to this sweet melodye:
For on my harpes most high and silver string,
To those Nine Sisters whom I love, I sing.
This man through death and horror seekes
Honor, by the Victorious Steele;
Another in unmapped creekes
For Jewells moores his winged keele.
The clam'rous Barre wins some, and others bite
At lookes throwne from a mushroom Favorite.
But I, that serve the lovely Graces,
Spurne at that drosse, which most adore;
And titles hate, like paynted faces,
And heart-fed Care for evermore.
Those pleasures I disdaine, which are pursude
With praise and wishes by the multitude.
The Bayes, which deathless Learning crownes,
Me of Apollo's troope installs:
The Satyres following o'er the downes
Fair Nymphs to rusticke festivalls,
Make me affect (where men no traffique have)
The holy horror of a Savage Cave.
Through the faire skyes I thence intend,
With an unus'd and powerfull wing,
To beare me to my Journeyes end:
And those that taste the Muses spring,
Too much celestiall fire have at their birth,
To live long time like common soules in Earth.
From faire Aurora will I reare
My selfe unto the source of floods;
And from the Ethiopian Beare,
To him as white as snowy woods;
Nor shall I feare (for this daye taking flight)
To be wounde up in any veil of night.
Of Death I may not feare the dart,
As is the use of Human State;
For well I knowe my better part
Dreads not the hand of Time or Fate.
Tremble at Death, Envye, and Fortune who
Have but one life: Heaven gives a Poet two.
All costly obsequies inveigh,
Marble and painting too, as vayne;
My ashes shall not meet with Clay,
As those doe of the vulgar trayne.
And if my Muse to Spensers glory come
No King shall owne my verses for his Tombe.

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!

Other Poems of Interest...