354
��LATIN POEMS
��IN OBITUM PR^SULIS ELIENSIS
Anno <ztatis 17 ON THE DEATH OF THE BISHOP OF ELY
��This poem is parallel, in every respect ex- cept that of verse - form, with Elegy III on the death of Dr. Lancelot Andrewes, Bishop of Winchester. Dr. Nicholas Felton, Bishop of Ely, was likewise a Cambridge man, and had likewise been Master of Pembroke. His death occurred in October, 1626, only a few days after that of his brother-bishop. No connec-
ADHUC inadentes rore squalebant gense,
Et sicca nominal lamina Adhuc liquentis imbre turgebant salis
Quern nuper eff udi plus Dum moesta charo justa persolvi rogo
Wintoniensis Prsesulis, Cuin centilinguis Fama (proh ! semper mali
Cladisque vera nuntia) Spargit per urbes divitis Britannise,
Populosque Neptuno satos, 10
Cessisse Morti et ferreis Sororibus,
Te, generis human! decus, Qui rex sacrorum ilia fuisti in insula
Quse nomen Anguillse tenet. Tune inquietum pectus ira protinus
Ebulliebat fervida, Tumulis potentem ssepe devovens deam:
Nee vota Naso in Ibida Concepit alto diriora pectore;
Graiusque vates parcius 20
Turpem Lycambis execratus est dolum,
Sponsamque Neobulen suam. At ecce ! diras ipse dum fundo graves,
Et imprecor Neci necem, Audisse tales videor attonitus sonos
Leni, sub aura, flamine: " Csecos furores pone; pone vitream
Bilemque et irritas minas. Quid temere violas non nocenda numina,
Subitbque ad iras percita ? 30
Non est, ut arbitraris elusus miser,
Mors atra Noctis filia, Erebove patre creta, sive Erinuye,
Vastove nata sub Chao: Ast ilia, cselo inissa stellate, Dei
Messes ubique colligit; Animasque mole carnea reconditas
In lucem et auras evocat, (Ut cum fugaces excitant Horse diem,
Themidos Jovisque filise,) 40
��tion of a personal sort is known to have existed between Dr. Felton and Milton, though the tone of the poem might seem to imply such a connection. The concluding verses, in spite of their somewhat conventional phrasing, are pre- monitory of Milton's power to suggest the vast- ness of cosmic space.
��My cheeks were still damp and stained, and my swollen eyes not yet dry from the tears I had shed in doing my sad duty over the bier of Winchester's bishop, when hundred tongued Rumor (O, always true messenger of ill !) spread through the cities of rich Britain and among the people sprung from Neptune, the news that you, who were the king of the saints in the island of Ely, had yielded to death and the dire Sisters. Then straightway ire kindled in my unquiet breast, and often I cursed the potent goddess of the grave, with curses more savage than Ovid conceived in his Ibis. More sparingly did the gray bard Archilochus curse the treachery of Ly- cambes, and Neobule, his own betrothed. But lo, while I was dissolved with rage and was calling down destruction upon the Destroyer, methought I heard such words as these: " Put away thy blind wrath; choke down thy rage and thy unavailing threats. Why dost thou rashly violate the powers which cannot be harmed, but which may be moved to sudden wrath ? Death is not, as thou deemest, poor deluded soul, the dark daughter of Night, born of Erebus or Erinys in the vasts of Chaos. No, she is sent from starry heaven to reap every- where the fields of God. Souls hidden un- der the weight of flesh she calls into the air and the light, even as the fleet Hours, daughters of Themis and Jove, bring forth
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