Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, TO MY DEAR FRIEND MR. THOMAS FLATMAN; PINDARIC ODE, by OCTAVIAN PULLEYN


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

TO MY DEAR FRIEND MR. THOMAS FLATMAN; PINDARIC ODE, by                    
First Line: Within the haunted thicket, where
Last Line: My very kind well wishes to my friend.
Subject(s): Flatman, Thomas (1637-1688)


I.

WITHIN the haunted thicket, where
The feather'd choristers are met to play;
And celebrate with voices clear,
And accents sweet, the praise of May:
The ouzel, thrush, and speckled lark,
And Philomel, that loves the dawn and dark:
These (the inspired throng)
In numbers smooth and strong
Adorn their noble theme with an immortal song,
While woods and vaults, the brook and neighbouring hill,
Repeat the varied close and the melodious trill.

II.

Here feast your ears, but let their eye
Wander, and see one of the lesser fry
Under a leaf, or on a dancing twig,
Ruffle his painted feathers, and look big,
Perk up his tail, and hop between
The boughs; by moving, only to be seen,
Perhaps his troubled breast he prunes,
As he doth meditate his tunes:
At last (compos'd) his little head he rears,
Towards (what he strives to imitate) the spheres;
And chirping then begins his best,
Falls on to pipe among the rest;
Deeming that all's not worth a rush,
Without his whistle from the bush.

III.

Th' harmonious sound did reach my ear,
That echo'd thy clear name,
Which all must know, who e'er did hear
Of Cowley or Orinda's fame;
I heard the Genius, with surprising grace,
Would visit us with his fair offspring, gay
As is the morning spring in May;
But fairer much, and of immortal race.

IV.

Delighted greatly, as I list'ning stood,
The sound came from each corner of the wood;
It both the shrubs and cedars shak'd,
And my drowsy Muse awak'd;
Strange that the sound should be so shrill,
That had its passage through a quill.
Then I resolv'd thy praises to rehearse,
The wonders of thy pen, among the crowd
Of thy learn'd friends that sing so loud:
But 'twas not to be sung, or reach'd in verse.
By my weak notes, scarce to be heard,
Or if they could, not worth regard;
Desisting therefore I must only send
My very kind well wishes to my friend.





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