« PredošláPokračovať »
True, a new mistress now I chase,
Yet this inconstancy is such,
I could not love thee, dear, so much,
THOU Snowy farm, with thy five tenements,
But she a-gathering flowers and hearts is gone, And thou left void to rude possession.
But grieve not pretty ermine cabinet,
The slender turnings of thy narrow room,
Then give me leave, to leave my rent with thee,
Yet servants knowing minikin nor base,
The three foregoing Songs are by Colonel RICHARD LOVELACE, born 1618. Exquisitely beautiful in his person, with a mind elegantly and classically endowed, he was one of the gayest and sprightliest courtiers of Charles I.'s reign. His own calamities followed those of the party to which he belonged-imprisoned and blighted in all his fortunes, brought on a state of despairing wretchedness, which ended in a fatal consumption, and terminated his life in a garret, 1658.
Colonel Lovelace's unfortunate demise is doubted, as given by Anthony Wood in the second volume of his Athenæ; and some say that his estates were not forfeited, but descended to the family; yet Edward Wyld confirms Wood's assertions, and writes that he died poor, and in a cellar.
His poems are chaste, classical, imaginative, and beautiful: they were published in 8vo. in 1649, and again in 1659.
THE HUNT IS UP.
DARE ye hunt our hallow'd green?
When ye come to hear us sing,
A wild hunting chorus, meant to represent the starting of a chase, is attached to the above; nearly unintelligible however, unless accompanied by its music, which has been arranged for four voices by Byrd, and entered by him into Queen Elizabeth's Virginal, and also into the Lady Nevil's Music-book, who appears to have been Byrd's pupil. This curious relict, with accompaniments, apparently adapted for the horn, is engrossed into our old M. S. collection of airs, alluded to in page 48. This M. S. volume, we may mention, in passing, contains 158 song tunes in parts, independent of sacred music; while the airs of several songs contained in this section, are to be found here, pricked down with great care, in the square or lozenge note, having the first line of each chant generally appended to its corresponding music. No date is attached to the M. S. but the latest tune in the volume is above two hundred years old.
When we wake, the kind dolphins together shall throng,
Ah! ah! my love's dead! there was not a bell,
To ring, to ring, out his knell.
The orient pearl which the ocean bestows,
The sea-nymphs shall sigh, and envy our bliss,
We will teach them to laugh, and their cockles to kiss: Ah! ah! my love's dead!
love sleeps now in a watery grave,
He hath nothing to show for his tomb but a wave;
That grows where he lies in his watery bed:
From Tixhall Poetry, published 1813, by EDWARD CLIFFORD, Esq. For a curious and interesting account of these ancient M.SS. see Drake's "Evenings in Autumn."
THE ROYAL NUN.
CANST thou, Marina, leave the world,
Canst thou forget the golden bed,
Where thou might'st sleep beyond the morn,
And have thy beauteous tresses shorn?
And weep and groan to be forgiven;
Say Voterisse, can this be done?
Whilst we the grace divine implore;
And sin shall never chain thee more.
And all my penance is in view;
Cries out, "O do not bid adieu!"
What, what can pomp and glory do;
Or what can human powers persuade;
How can it be by earth betray'd?
For ever lock Religion's door;
And let me see the world no more.
This beautiful poem of the Royal Nun, says Dr. Drake, is from a M.S. dated 1662; but in all probability it is several years older. Who was its author, is not known. It evidently bears a strong resemblance to Dr. Percy's popular song, "O Nannie wilt thou gang wi' me."