GEORGE HERBERT. 153-1633.

GEORGE HERBERT, a most pious and learned divine of the Church of England, is the author of the "Country Parson, his Character and Rule of Holy Life," and also of "Sacred Poems, and Private Ejaculations." We cannot give the object of the former better than in his own words:"I have resolved to set down the form and character of a true pastor, that I may have a mark to aim at, which also I will set as high as I can, since he shoots higher that threatens the moon, than he that aims at a tree. Not that I think, if a man do not all which is here expressed, he presently sins, and displeases God; but that it is a good strife to go as far as we can in pleasing Him, who hath done so much for us." The work consists of thirty-seven chapters, treat. ing of so many different duties of the "Pastor." The last chapter is

CONCERNING DETRACTION.

The Country Parson-perceiving that most, when they are at leisure, make others' faults their entertainment and discourse; and that even some good men think, so they speak truth, they may disclose another's fault-finds it somewhat difficult how to proceed in this point. For if he absolutely shut up men's mouths, and forbid all disclosing of faults, many an evil may not only be, but also spread in his parish, without any remedy, (which cannot be applied without notice,) to the dishonor of God, and the infection of his flock, and the discomfort, discredit, and hinderance of the pastor. On the other side, if it be unlawful to open faults, no benefit or advantage can make it lawful; for we must not do evil that good may come of it.

Now the Parson, taking this point to task, (which is so exceeding useful, and hath taken so deep root that it seems the very life and substance of conversation,) hath proceeded thus far in the discussing of it. Faults are either notorious or private. Again, notorious faults are either such as are made known by common fame, and of these those that know them may talk, so they do it not with sport, but commiseration:-or else, such as have passed judgment, and been corrected either by whipping, imprisoning, or the like. Of these also men may talk; and more, they may discover them to those that knew them not: because infamy is a part of the sentence against malefactors, which the law intends, as is evident by those which are branded for rogues that they may be known, or put into the stocks that they may be looked upon. But some may say, though the law allow this, the gospel doth not: which hath so much advanced charity, and ranked backbiters among the generation of the wicked. But this is easily answered. As the executioner is not uncharitable that takes away the life of the con demned, except, besides his office, he adds a tincture of private malice in the joy and haste of acting his part; so neither is he

that defames him whom the law would have defamed, except he also do it out of rancor. For, in infamy, all are executioners; and the law gives a malefactor to all to be defamed. And, as malefactors may lose and forfeit their goods or life; so may they their good name, and the possession thereof, which, before their offence and judgment, they had in all men's breasts. For all are honest, till the contrary be proved.-Besides, it concerns the commonwealth that rogues should be known; and charity to the public hath the precedence of private charity. So that it is so far from being a fault to discover such offenders, that it is a duty rather; which may do much good, and save much harm.-Nevertheless, if the punished delinquent shall be much troubled for his sins, and turn quite another man, doubtless then also men's affections and words must turn, and forbear to speak of that which even God himself hath forgotten.

As a poet, Herbert ranks among the metaphysical class, belonging to the same school with John Donne. His poems are generally of a serious character, relating either to the grave realities of this life, or the momentous concerns of another. Most of them, however, are so quaint, so filled with farfetched images and illustrations, and are so recondite in their meaning, that they cannot be read with much pleasure. The following are two of his best pieces:

SUNDAY.

O day most calm, most bright!
The fruit of this, the next world's bud;
Th' endorsement of supreme delight,
Writ by a friend, and with his blood;
The couch of time; care's balm and bay;
The week were dark, but for thy light;-
Thy torch doth show the way.

The other days and thou
Make up one man; whose face thou art,
Knocking at heaven with thy brow:
The worky days are the back-part;
The burden of the week lies there,
Making the whole to stoop and bow,
Till thy release appear.

Man had straight forward gone
To endless death. But thou dost pull
And turn us round, to look on one,
Whom, if we were not very dull,
We could not choose but look on still;
Since there is no place so alone,
The which he doth not fill.

1 Rend-Willmott's "Lives of the English Sacred Poets," which contains well-written notices of Davies, Sanays, Wither, Gües Fletcher, Quarles, Crashaw, Milton, Watts, Young, Blair, Cowper, and other

Sundays the pillars are

On which heaven's palace arched lies:
The other days fill up the spare
And hollow room with vanities.
They are the fruitful bed and borders
In God's rich garden; that is bare,
Which parts their ranks and orders.

The Sundays of man's life,
Threaded together on time's string,
Make bracelets to adorn the wife
Of the eternal, glorious King.
On Sunday, heaven's gate stands ope;
Blessings are plentiful and rife;

More plentiful than hope.

Thou art a day of mirth:

And, where the week-days trail on ground,
Thy flight is higher, as thy birth.

Oh, let me take thee at the bound,

Leaping with thee froin seven to seven;
Till that we both, being toss'd from earth,
Fly hand in hand to heaven!

THE BOSOM SIN.1

Lord, with what care hast thou begirt us round!
Parents first season us; then schoolmasters
Deliver to us laws; they send us bound

To rules of reason, holy messengers,
Pulpits and Sundays, sorrow dogging sin,
Afflictions sorted, anguish of all sizes,
Fine nets and stratagems to catch us in,
Bibles laid open, millions of surprises,
Blessings beforehand, ties of gratefulness,

The sound of glory ringing in our ears;
Without, our shame; within, our consciences;
Angels and grace, eternal hopes and fears:
Yet all these fences and their whole array
One cunning bosom sin blows quite away.

THOMAS CAREW. 1589-1639.

Or the personal history of Thomas Carew we have not many pa ticulars He was educated at Oxford, and, after travelling abroad, was received with great favor at the court of Charles I. for his elegant manners and personal accomplishments. All his poems are short and occasional, and were exceed ingly popular at the time. Sprightly, polished, and perspicuous," says Headley, "every part of his works displays the man of sense, gallantry, and

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1 "This sonnet is equally admirable for the weight, number, and expression of the thoughts, and for the simple dignity of the language; unless, indeed, a festidious taste should object to the latter half of the sixth line."-Coleridge.

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breeding. He has the ease, without the pedantry of Waller, and perhaps less conceit:" and Campbell remarks that "his poems have touches of elegance and refinement, which their trifling subjects could not have yielded without a delicate and deliberate exercise of the fancy; and he unites the point and polish of later times with many of the genial and warm tints of the elder muse." It is deeply to be regretted that he should have employed such talents upon subjects generally so trivial, when he might have shone in the higher walks of poetry, and built for himself a wide-spread fame.

EPITAPH ON THE LADY MARY VILLIERS.

The Lady Mary Villiers lies

Under this stone: With weeping eyes

The parents that first gave her birth,
And their sad friends, laid her in earth:
If any of them (reader) were
Known unto thee, shed a tear:
Or if thyself possess a gem,
As dear to thee, as this to them;
Though a stranger to this place,

Bewail in theirs, thine own hard case;

For thou perhaps at thy return

Mayst find thy darling in an urn.

PERSUASIONS TO Love.

Starve not yourself, because you may
Thereby make me pine away;
Nor let brittle beauty make
You your wiser thoughts forsake:
For that lovely face will fail;
Beauty's sweet, but beauty's frail;
"Tis sooner past, 'tis sooner done,
Than summer's rain, or winter's swɩ:
Most fleeting when it is most dear;
"Tis gone, while we but say 'tis here.
These curious locks so aptly twined,
Whose every hair a soul doth bind,
Will change their auburn hue, and grow
White and cold as winter's snow.
That eye, which now is Cupid's nest,
Will prove his grave, and all the rest
Will follow; in the cheek, chin, nose,
Nor lily shall be found, nor rose.
And what will then become of all
Those, whom now you servants call?
Like swallows, when your summer's done,
They'll fly, and seek some warmer sun.

PLEASURE.

Bewitching siren! gilded rottenness!
Thou hast with cunning artifice display'd
Th' enamell'd outside, and the honied verge
Of the fair cup where deadly poison lurks.
Within, a thousand sorrows dance the round;
And like a shell, pain circles thee without.

Grief is the shadow waiting on thy steps,
Which, as thy joys 'gin towards their west decline
Doth to a giant's spreading form extend
Thy dwarfish stature. Tho thyself art pain,
Greedy intense desire; and the keen edge
Of thy fierce appetite oft strangles thee,
And cuts thy slender thread; but still the terror
And apprehension of thy hasty end

Mingles with gall thy most refined sweets:
Yet thy Circean charms transform the world.
Captains that have resisted war and death,
Nations that over fortune have triumph'd,
Are by thy magic made effeminate:
Empires, that knew no limits but the poles,
Have in thy wanton lap melted away.
Thou wert the author of the first excess
That drew this reformation on the gods;

Canst thou, then, dream those powers that from heaven
Banish'd th' effect, will there enthrone the cause?
To thy voluptuous den fly, witch, from hence;
There dwell, for ever drown'd in brutish sense.

GERVASE MARKHAM.

GERVASE MARKHAM was a very voluminous writer in the reigns of Elira beth, James I., and Charles I., but neither the period of his birth nor his death has been ascertained. He commenced author about the year 1592, and lived to a good old age, dying in the latter part of the reign of Charles I. His education had been very liberal, for he was esteemed a good classical scholar, and was well versed in the French, Italian, and Spanish languages. He seems to have been a general compiler for the booksellers, writing upor almost every subject. His popularity in his day was unrivalled, many of his works reaching numerous editions. The following excellent remarks are from his work on Housewifery:2

THE GOOD HOUSEWIFE.

Next unto her sanctity and holiness of life, it is meet that ou English housewife be a woman of great modesty and temperance, as well inwardly as outwardly; inwardly, as in her behavior and carriage towards her husband, wherein she shall shun all vio lence of rage, passion, and humor, coveting less to direct than te

1 See a list of his works in Lowndes's "Bibliography," ill. 1211, and in Drake's "Chakspeare, ' 506: also in the "Censura Literaria," v. 105-117.

2 I must give the title as a curiosity: "The English House-Wife, containing the inward and outward virtues which ought to be in a compleat woman. As her skill in physick, chirurgery, cookery extraction of oyls, banqueting-stuff, ordering of great feasts, preserving of all sorts of wines, conceited secrets, distillations, perfumes, ordering of wool, hemp, flax; making cloth and dying, the knowledge of dayries, office of malting, of oats, their excellent rules in families; of brewing, baking, and all other things belonging to an household. A work generally approved, and now the eighth time much augmented, purged, and made most profitable and necessary for all men, and the general good of this nation. By G. Markham.”