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Herr.

There filling maunds with cówslips, you
May find your Amarillis.

Herr.

Herr.

Ambo.

What have the meads to do with thee,
Or with thy youthful hours?
Live thou at court, where thou may'st be
The Queen of men, not flowers.

Amarill. You set too high a rate upon
A Shepherdess so homely;
Believe it, dearest, there's not one
I'th' court that's half so comely.

Let country wenches make them fine
With posies, since its fitter
For thee with richest gems to shine,
And like the stars to glitter.

I prithee stay. (Amar.) I must away:
Let's kiss first, then we'll sever;

And though we bid adieu to day,
We shall not part for ever.
Page 384.

Numerous short poems and votive hymns are to be found in this Collection, and which, in their structure and style, bear a

* Maund is a word used by Shakspeare, and means a basket.

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striking resemblance to the ancient Greek epigram. They are, like it, devoid of point and satire, and either delineate rural scenery, or are addressed to some Nymph, God or Goddess, with votive offerings. Among a vast variety of these dedicated to Venus, Bacchus, Cupid, Apollo and Neptune, to Meadows, Sycamores, Fountains, &c. &c. I have selected the following "Short Hymn to Venus" as a specimen of the manner in which they are executed. The second line of this little morsel possesses much terseness and felicity of expression, and the whole, with many similar poems of equal merit, prove that our author had cultivated a taste for the peculiar graces of Antiquity, for the cliaste and simple beauties of the Greek Anthologia.

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Goddess I do love a Girl

Ruby-lipt, and tooth'd with pearl:
If so be, I may but prove
Lucky in this Maid I love;
I will promise there shall be
Myrtles offered up to Thee.

Page 157.

For sweetness of versification, purity of diction, and amorous tenderness of senti

ment, there is no piece in the volume of Herrick which exceeds "His Covenant or Protestation to Julia." The lines I have distinguished by Italics are in the poets best manner, and breathe the most delicate spirit of endearment.

Why dost thou wound, and break my heart,
As if we should for ever part?

Hast thou not heard an oath from me,

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After a day, or two, or three,
I would come back and live with thee?
Take, if thou dost distrust that vow,
This second protestation now.
Upon thy cheek that spangl'd tear,
Which sits as Dew of Roses there;
That tear shall scarce be dry'd before
I'll kiss the threshold of thy door.
Then weep not Sweet; but thus much know,
I'm half return'd before I go.

Page 390.

A Naïveté and playfulness of a very fascinating kind, at once elegant and apposite, distinguish the poem called "The Bracelet," and evince the powers of the writer in depicting the gaieties of love.

Why I tie about thy wrist,
Julia, this my silken twist;
For what other reason i'st,
But to shew thee how in part,
Thou my pretty Captive art?
But thy Bond-slave is my heart!
'Tis but silk that bindeth thee,
Snap the thread, and thou art free:
But 'tis otherwise with me.

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I am bound, and fast bound so,
That from thee I cannot go:
If I could, I would not so.

Page 147.

The voluptuous pathos of the following little poem addresseed " To Julia," is perfectly in the style of Tibullus, and, though consisting but of four lines, more powerfully impresses the heart than many pages of modern amatory poetry..

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JULIA, when thy Herrick dies,
Close thou up thy poet's eyes;
And his last breath, let it be
Taken in by none but thee.

Page 216.

The spirit of this closing couplet has been caught by Pope in his Eloisa. She is repre

sented calling on Abelard to pay her the last sad offices, and exclaims, with enthusiastic fondness,

Suck my last breath, and catch my flying soul.

Of the succeeding production, which will close our specimens of the poet in this province of his muse, though many more might with propriety be adduced, there cannot, I should imagine, be any difference of opinion. It is, though in its plan an imitation of the Passionate Shepherd of Marlowe, without servility or plagiarism, either in sentiment or description. In the latter respect it is, without doubt, superior to its prototype, and the couplets distinguished by the Italic letter demand particular approbation.

To PHILLIS.

Live, live with me and thou shalt see
The pleasures I'll prepare for thee:
What sweets the country can afford.
Shall bless thy bed, and bless thy board.
The soft sweet moss shall be thy bed,
With crawling woodbine overspread;
By which the silver-shedding streams
Shall gently melt thee into dreams.

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