FullReads

We can more easily imagine him as one of those Sprites–

“That do run
By the triple Hecat’s team,
From the presence of the Sun,
Following darkness like a dream.”

Henry, our poet, was born in 1621; and had a twin-brother, Thomas. Newton, his birthplace, is now a farm-house on the banks of the Usk, the scenery of which is of great beauty. The twins entered Jesus College, Oxford, in 1638. This was early in the Great Rebellion, and Charles then kept his Court at Oxford. The young Vaughans were hot Royalists; Thomas bore arms, and Henry was imprisoned. Thomas, after many perils, retired to Oxford, and devoted his life to alchemy, under the patronage of Sir Robert Murray, Secretary of State for Scotland, himself addicted to these studies. He published a number of works, with such titles as “Anthroposophia Theomagica, or a Discourse of the Nature of Man, and his State after Death, grounded on his Creator’s Proto-chemistry;” “Magia Adamica, with a full discovery of the true Coelum terrae, or the Magician’s Heavenly Chaos and the first matter of all things.”

Henry seems to have been intimate with the famous wits of his time: “Great Ben,” Cartwright, Randolph, Fletcher, etc. His first publication was in 1646:–“Poems, with the Tenth Satyre of Juvenal Englished, by Henry Vaughan, Gent.” After taking his degree in London as M. D., he settled at his birthplace, Newton, where he lived and died the doctor of the district. About this time he prepared for the press his little volume, “Olor Iscanus, the Swan of Usk,” which was afterwards published by his brother Thomas, without the poet’s consent. We are fortunate in possessing a copy of this curious volume, which is now marked in the Catalogues as “Rariss.” It contains a few original poems; some of them epistles to his friends, hit off with great vigor, wit, and humor. Speaking of the change of times, and the reign of the Roundheads, he says,–

“Here’s brotherly Ruffs and Beards, and a strange sight
Of high monumental Hats, tane at the fight
Of eighty-eight; while every Burgesse foots
The mortal Pavement in eternall boots.”

There is a line in one of the letters which strikes us as of great beauty:–

“Feed on the vocal silence of his eye.”

And there is a very clever poem Ad Amicum Foeneratorem, in defiance of his friend’s demand of repayment of a loan.

There is great beauty and delicacy of expression in these two stanzas of an epithalamium:–

“Blessings as rich and fragrant crown your heads,
As the mild heaven on roses sheds,
When at their cheeks (like pearls) they weare
The clouds that court them in a tear.

“Fresh as the houres may all your pleasures be,
And healthfull as Eternitie!
Sweet as the flowre’s first breath, and close
As th’ unseen spreadings of the Rose
When she unfolds her curtained head,
And makes her bosome the Sun’s bed!”

The translations from Ovid, Boece, and Cassimir, are excellent.

The following lines conclude an invitation to a friend:–

“Come then! and while the slow isicle hangs
At the stifle thatch, and Winter’s frosty pangs
Benumme the year, blithe as of old let us
Mid noise and war, of peace and mirth discusse.
This portion thou wert born for. Why should we
Vex at the time’s ridiculous miserie?
An age that thus hath fooled itself, and will,
Spite of thy teeth and mine, persist so still.
Let’s sit then at this fire; and, while wee steal
A revell in the Town, let others seal,
Purchase, and cheat, and who can let them pay,
Till those black deeds bring on the darksome day.
Innocent spenders wee! a better use
Shall wear out our short lease, and leave the obtuse
Rout to their husks. They and their bags at best
Have cares in earnest. Wee care for a jest!”