The Abraham Cowley Text and Image Archive

Cowley's Westminster Epitaph, with a Parody

From The Works of Abraham Cowley, 10th ed. (London, 1707). Reproduced with permission from the Special Collections of the University of Virginia.

Transcript of the Epitaph: ABRAHAMUS COULEIUS Anglorum Pindarus, Flaccus, Maro, Deliciæ, Decus, Desiderium Aevi sui, Hic iuxta situs est. Aurea dum volitant late tua scripta per orbem Et Famâ æternum vivis, Divine Poeta, Hic placidâ jaceas requie, Custodiat urnam Cana Fides vigilentque perrenni lampade Musæ. Sit sacer iste locus, Nec quis temerarius ausit Sacrilegâ turbare manu Venerabile Bustum Intacti maneant, maneant per secula Dulcis COULEII cineres, serventque immobile saxum. sic Vovet Votumque suum apud Posteros sacratum esse voluit Qui viro Incomparabili posuit sepulcrale marmor, GEORGIUS DUX BUCKINGAMIAE Excessit è vita Anno Æ.tis 49 et honorifica pompa elatus ex Ædibus Buckingamianis viris illustribus omnium Ordinum exsequias celibrantibus sepultus est Die 3.o M. Augusti An.o D.ni 1667. Translation of the Epitaph*: ABRAHAM COWLEY; the English Pindar, Horace, Virgil: the delight, glory and desire of his age, lies near this place. Whilst that thy glorious volumes still survive And thou (great Poet) art in Fame alive, Here take thy full repose, free from alarmes, In th'Churches bosome and the Muses armes. Speak and tread softly Passengers, and none With an unhallowed touch pollute this stone Let sweet-strained Cowley in death's sleep ne're stir But rest, rest ever in his sepulchre.† So wisheth And desires his wish may be Sacred to posterity He who erected this monument To that incomparable person GEORGIUS DUX BUCKINGAMIAE He departed this life in the 49 year of his age And was buried in great state out of the Duke of Buckingham's House Many illustrious persons of all degrees attending his funeral. August 3d. 1667.   * MS. written "on the back of a damaged copy of Faithorne's engraved portrait" of Cowley, here reprinted from Henry Campkin's transcript in Notes and Queries, n.s. 5 (1852), 267-68; verses at the lower left are apparently to be inserted in the literal translation at †, and a note at the top of Campkin's transcript ("per Carolum Scarborough Militem Med. Doctorem") suggests that either the Latin or the amplified English translation or both are the work of Cowley's friend Dr. Scarborough, knighted 1669, as reported in the DNB entry s.n. Scarburgh, Sir Charles. The burlesque written on the same sheet mocks the pomp of the epitaph itself and the inserted verses alike, but treats Cowley himself with a playful respect; topicalities here speak for the piece as authentic, but it may be a literate forgery of the sort not uncommon in Campkin's day. Visit our Other Verses on Cowley for an earlier parodic rejoinder to Cowley's own Pindaric Odes. Our transcript has been normalized in the same way as Cowley's "Hymn to Light; in line 2 of "Burlesque," we have also changed "Sr" ("Sir") to "St" ("St.)."

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† Whilst thou above wear'st a triumphant wreath And we the Poets militant beneath Anthems to thy immortal honor breath [Fill] the dark chest which for Apollo's heir Ecclesia Anglicana doth prepare And let the vestal nunne's watch ever here. Let Libitina's selfe think't no disgrace To be the Angel Guardian of this place That no rude hand this monument deface. Here let seraphic Cowley rest his head Here let him rest it in this earthy bed Till we all rise with glory lawrelled. Whilst through ye world thy golden verses passe more golden than those of Pythagoras And whilst [sweet lyri]st thy anointed name is registred in the large rowle of Fame Here rest secure and let this minster be a Sanctuary in that sense to thee, Let the nine muses bid farewell to sleep ever to watch the grave thy corps doth keep. New consecrated is the holy ground no crime no guilt must here be found; Let not the man of vices hither come and with his breath profane this sacred tomb. Let Cowley's dust lie quiet in its urne till the last trump all things to ashes turn; Let it its station keep and quiet lie till the blest dawn of immortality.

BURLESQUE                 Here lies, reduc'd to ashes and cinder, Not St Paul, but St Abraham Pindar. It is not fierce Horatio Vere, but Horatio Cowley buried here. Nor is this Polydore Virgil's room, but Cantabrigian Virgil's tomb.     The pleasant'st child e're England bred     The bravest youth e're Cambridge fed     The dearest man e're wore a head. Whilst that thy ballads up and down do flutter and the town gallants of thy town muse mutter Possesse this church, though thou couldst not ye Savoy and in her soft lap let Melpomene have thee. Let no Court storm nor tough-lung'd zealot blow thy neatly angled atomes to and fro And sleep in beggar's Limbo, by dull Chaucer, under the whim wham urn as broad as sawcer     Whilst yt thy name doth smell as sweet as May's     and all ye table talk is of thy Thais  [Bays?]     thy miscellany and thy Davideis. Rot away here and let the vault endure thee let the religion of the house secure thee and let the watching muses here immure thee. Avaunt all ye that look profane and vile Stand off, stand off, a hundred thousand mile Nor with your thumbs this monument defile. Let sugar-candy Cowley sleep in's grotte let not ye people wake him, let them not nor steal away the surgeons gally pot. Whilst on wing'd Pegasus thou [Phoebus Son] through air and earth and sea and all do ride Whilst by Orinda's pipe thy praise is blown And thou in fairy land art deified; Whilst thou dost soar aloft leave coyrs behind to be interrd in antient monast'ry And to the chimeing rabble safely joyn'd [To] Draiton, Spencer and old Jeoffery.

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