chapter  13
A Farewel to Celladon, On his Going into Ireland.
Pages 4

Pindarique. Farewell the Great, the Brave and Good, By all admir’d and understood; For all thy vertues so extensive are, Writ in so noble and so plain a Character, 5 That they instruct humanity what to do, How to reward and imitate ’em too, The mighty Cesar found and knew, The Value of a Swain so true: And early call’d the Industrious Youth from Groves 10 Where unambitiously he lay, And knew no greater Joyes, nor Power then Loves; Which all the day The careless and delighted Celladon Improves; So the first man in Paradice was laid, 15 So blest beneath his own dear fragrant shade, Till false Ambition made him range, So the Almighty call’d him forth, And though for Empire he did Eden change; Less Charming ’twas, and far less worth. II 20 Yet he obeyes and leaves the peaceful Plains, The weeping Nymphs, and sighing Swains, Obeys the mighty voice of Jove. The Dictates of his Loyalty pursues, Bus’ness Debauches all his hours of Love; 25 Bus’ness, whose hurry, noise and news Even Natures self subdues; Changes her best and first simplicity, Her soft, her easie quietude Into mean Arts of cunning Policy, 30 The Grave and Drudging Coxcomb to Delude. Say, mighty Celladon, oh tell me why, Thou dost thy nobler thoughts imploy In bus’ness, which alone was made To teach the restless Statesman how to Trade 35 In dark Cabals for Mischief and Design, But n’ere was meant a Curse to Souls like thine. Business the Check to Mirth and Wit, Business the Rival of the Fair, The Bane to Friendship, and the Lucky Hit, 40 Onely to those that languish in Dispair; Leave then that wretched troublesome Estate To him to whom forgetful Heaven, Has no one other vertue given, But dropt down the unfortunate, 45 To Toyl, be Dull, and to be Great. III But thou whose nobler Soul was fram’d, For Glorious and Luxurious Ease, 37 By Wit adorn’d, by Love inflam’d; For every Grace, and Beauty Fam’d, 50 Form’d for delight, design’d to please, Give Give a look to every Joy, That youth and lavish Fortune can invent, Nor let Ambition, that false God, destroy Both Heaven and Natures first intent. 55 But oh in vain is all I say, And you alas must go, The Mighty Cæsar to obey, And none so fit as you. From all the Envying Croud he calls you forth, 60 He knows your Loyalty, and knows your worth; He’s try’d it oft, and put it to the Test, It grew in Zeal even whilst it was opprest, The great, the Godlike Celladon, Unlike the base Examples of the times, 65 Cou’d never be Corrupted, never won, To stain his honest blood with Rebel Crimes, Fearless unmov’d he stood amidst the tainted Crowd, And justify’d and own’d his Loyalty aloud. IV Hybernia hail! Hail happy Isle, 70 Be glad, and let all Nature smile. Ye Meads and Plains send forth your Gayest Flowers; Ye Groves and every Purling Spring, Where Lovers sigh, and Birds do sing, Be glad and gay, for Celladon is yours; 75 He comes, he comes to grace your Plains. To Charm the Nymphs, and bless the Swains, Ecchoes repeat his Glorious Name To all the Neigbouring Woods and Hills; Ye Feather’d Quire chant forth his Fame, 80 Ye Fountains, Brooks, and Wand’ring Rills, That through the Meadows in Meanders run, Tell all your Flowry Brinks, the generous Swain is come. VI Divert him all ye pretty Solitudes, And give his Life some softning Interludes: 3885 That when his weari’d mind would be, From Noise and Rigid Bus’ness free; He may upon your Mossey Beds lye down, Where all is Gloomy, all is Shade, With some dear Shee, whom Nature made, 90 To be possest by him alone; Where the soft tale of Love She breathes, Mixt with the rushing of the wind-blown leaves, The different Notes of Cheerful Birds, And distant Bleating of the Herds: 95 Is Musick far more ravishing and sweet, Then all the Artful Sounds that please the noisey Great. VII Mix thus your Toiles of Life with Joyes, And for the publick good, prolong your days: Instruct the World, the great Example prove, 100 Of Honour, Friendship, Loyalty, and Love. And when your busier hours are done, And you with Damon sit alone; Damon the honest, brave and young; Whom we must Celebrate where you are sung. 105 For you (by Sacred Friendship ty’d,) Love nor Fate can nere divide; When your agreeing thoughts shall backward run, Surveying all the Conquests you have won, The Swaines you ’ave left, the sighing Maids undone; 110 Try if you can a fatal prospect take, Think if you can a soft Idea make: Of what we are, now you are gone, Of what we feel for Celladon. VIII ’Tis Celladon the witty and the gay, 115 That blest the Night, and cheer’d the world all Day: ’Tis Celladon, to whom our Vows belong, And Celladon the Subject of our Song. For whom the Nymphs would dress, the Swains rejoice, The praise of these, of those the choice; 120 And if our Joyes were rais’d to this Excess, Our Pleasures by thy presence made so great: 39 Some pittying God help thee to guess, (What Fancy cannot well Express.) Our Languishments by thy Retreat, 125 Pitty our Swaines, pitty our Virgins more, And let that pitty haste thee to our shore; And whilst on happy distant Coasts you are, Afford us all your sighs, and Cesar all your care.