英文诗歌:A Part of an Ode

A Part of an Ode

IT is not growing like a tree

In bulk doth make man better be;

Or standing long an oak three hundred year

To fall a log at last dry bald and sere：

A lily of a day

Is fairer far in May

Although it fall and die that night;

It was the plant and flower of light.

In small proportions we just beauties see;

And in short measures life may perfect be.

Call noble Lucius then for wine

And let thy looks with gladness shine：

Accept this garland plant it on thy head

And think—nay know—thy Morison 's not dead.

He leap'd the present age

Possest with holy rage

To see that bright eternal Day

Of which we Priests and Poets say

Such truths as we expect for happy men;

And there he lives with memory—and Ben

Jonson： who sung this of him ere he went

Himself to rest

Or tast a part of that full joy he meant

To have exprest

In this bright Asterism

Where it were friendship's schism—

Were not his Lucius long with us to tarry—

To separate these twy

Lights the Dioscuri

And keep the one half from his Harry.

But fate doth so alternate the design

Whilst that in Heav'n this light on earth must shine.

And shine as you exalted are!

Two names of friendship but one star：

Of hearts the union： and those not by chance

Made or indenture or leased out to advance

The profits for a time.

No pleasures vain did chime

Of rimes or riots at your feasts

Orgies of drink or feign'd protests;

But simple love of greatness and of good

That knits brave minds and manners more than blood.

This made you first to know the Why

You liked then after to apply

That liking and approach so one the t'other

Till either grew a portion of the other：

Each stylèd by his end

The copy of his friend.

You lived to be the great surnames

And titles by which all made claims

Unto the Virtue—nothing perfect done

But as a CARY or a MORISON.

And such the force the fair example had

As they that saw

The good and durst not practise it were glad

That such a law

Was left yet to mankind

Where they might read and find

FRIENDSHIP indeed was written not in words

And with the heart not pen

Of two so early men

Whose lines her rules were and records：

Who ere the first down bloomèd on the chin

Had sow'd these fruits and got the harvest in.