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sad, silent and dark be the tears that we shed,
as the night-dew that falls on the grass o'er his head.
But the night-dew that falls, though in silence it weeps,
shall brighten with verdure the grave where he sleeps ;
and the tear that we shed, though in secret it rolls,
shall long keep his memory green in our souls.

T. MOORE

THE MOUSE AND THE MISER

6

1370

TO

O a Mouse says a miser, ‘My dear Mr Mouse,

pray what may you please for to want in my

house?' says the mouse, ‘Mr Miser, pray keep yourself quiet, you are safe in your person, your purse and your diet; a lodging I want, which even you may afford, but none would come here to beg, borrow or board.'

C. SMART

SOME

1371 THE ROCK OF RUBIES AND THE QUARRIE OF PEARLS

OME asked me where the rubies grew;

and nothing I did say,
but with my finger pointed to

the lips of Julia.
Some asked how pearls did grow and where;

then spoke I to my girle
to part her lips, and shewed them there

the quarelets of pearl.

R. HERRICK

1372

CUPID AND THE ROSES

V affect;

ENUS a garden had with roses decked,

6

her son here plucking flowers his head t adorn,
prick'd his white finger with a piercing thorn;
blood from his hand, tears dropping from his eyes,
to his fair mother running, thus he cries;
“Who arm'd the rose with these blood-thirsty spears,
'gainst me he wars, and yet my colours bears.'

T. STANLEY 1373

AS
S slow our ship her foamy track

against the wind was cleaving,

her trembling pennant still looked back

to that dear Isle 'twas leaving. So loath we part from all we love,

from all the links that bind us; so turn our hearts as on we rove to those we've left behind us.

T. MOORE

VERTUE

WHA

1374

HAT one art thou, thus in torne weede yclad?

Vertue, in price whom ancient sages had: why poorely clad? for fading goods past care: why double-faced? I marke each fortunes rare: this bridle what? mindes rages to restraine: why beare you tooles? I love to take great paine: why wings? I teach above the starres to flie: why treade you death? I onely cannot die.

T. WYATT

ELEGY

WHAT

1375

CHAT can atone, O ever-injured shade,

fate unpitied and thy rites unpaid? No friend's complaint, no kind domestic tear pleased thy pale ghost or graced thy mournful bier. By foreign hands thy dying eyes were closed, by foreign hands thy decent limbs composed, by foreign hands thy humble grave adorned, by strangers honoured, and by strangers mourned.

A. POPE

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:

ET us use it whilst we may;

snatch those joys that haste away:
earth her winter coat may cast
and renew her beauty past;
but, our winter come, in vain
we solicit spring again;
and when our furrows snow shall cover,
love may return, but never lover.

R. FANSHAWE from Guarini

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UI dormire paras, nocturna silentia noli quaerere nec strepitum praetereuntis aquae:

nec volucrum, nec quos edit lyra tinnula cantus,

quaeque soporiferum grana papaver habet;
nec molli te crede toro nec membra fatiga,

nec dape nec sumpto lumina conde mero:
ut sopor obrepat non expugnabilis, audi,
dum coram populo rhetoricatur, Hylum.

A. JONSTON

1378 ADVERSITY THE TRUE TEST OF FRIENDSHIP

ALCUNI
LCUN non puo saper da chi sia amato,

quando felice in su la rota siede;
pero c'ha i veri, e i finti amici a lato,
che mostran tutti la medesma fede.
Se poi si cangia in tristo il lieto stato,
volta la turba adulatrice in piede;
e quel che di cor ama, riman forte,
ed ama il suo signor dopo la morte.

L. ARIOSTO

1379

INCOGNITA NE TVRBENT
PARCE, homo, de rebus nimium

trepidare caducis,
nec te vestitûs cura cibique premat:
vive probus, coelique memor: nec scire labores,

quid ferat hora boni crastina, quidve mali : ista Deo permitte; etenim, qui lilia vestit,

qui minimas vigili numine pascit aves, idem, crede, tibi praebebit rite rogatus,

quae tibi conveniet quamque mereris opem. 1380

Сом

COME, shepherds, follow me!
see! loe beside the fountain
Love laid to rest-how sweetly sleepeth he!

O take heed, come not nigh him!
but haste we hence and fly him:

and, lovers, dance with gladness-
for, while Love sleeps, is truce with care and sadness.

1381

SEGEN

DU

U bist wie eine Blume
so hold und schön und rein;

ich schau dich an, und wehmuth
schleicht mir ins Herzs hinein.
Mir ist als ob ich die Hände
auf's Haupt dir legen sollte,
betend, das Gott dich erhalte
so rein und schön und hold.

H. HEINE 1382

CONTENT

,

little fear and mickle solace: states suspect their bed and diet;

fear and craft do haunt the palace.

Little would I, little want I; where the mind and store agreeth, smallest comfort is not scanty ;

least he longs that little seeth.

T. LODGE

EPITAPH

1383

R

EADER! if to thy bosom cling the pain

of recent sorrow combated in vain; or if thy cherished grief hath failed to thwart time still intent on his insidious part, lulling the mourner's best good thoughts asleep, pilfering regrets we would, but cannot, keep; bear with him, judge him gently, who makes known his bitter loss by this memorial Stone; and pray, that in his faithful breast the grace of resignation find a hallowed place.

W. WORDSWORTH 1384

THE SNOWDROP
BENEATH the chilling air when I behold

thee, lovely flow'r, recline thy languid head:
when I behold thee drooping, pale and cold,

and sorrowing for thy vernal sisters dead; methinks I mark in thee the child of woe,

exposed to hardship from his earliest birth, bending beneath the wintry storms that blow,

his only portion a' rude spot of earth; yėt sure, like thine, meek flow'r, his spring draws

near, and Heaven's sweet sunshine shall inhale each tear.

W. SCROPE

1385 UPON A MAID THAT DYED THE DAY SHE WAS

MARR YED

THAT

'HAT morne which saw me made a bride

the evening witnest that I dy'd:
those holy lights, wherewith they guide
unto the bed the bashfull bride,
served but as tapers for to burne
and light my reliques to their urne.
This epitaph, which here you see,
supply'd the epithalamie.

R. HERRICK

1386

TO LAURELS
FUNERALL stone,
A

or verse, I covet none;
but onely crave
of you, that I may have
a sacred laurel springing from my grave:

which being seen,
blest with perpetuall greene,

may grow to be
not so much called a tree,
as the eternall monument of me.

R. HERRICK

H

1387 EPITAPH ON MISS DRUMMOND IN BRODSWORTH

CHURCH, YORKSHIRE
ERE sleeps what once was beauty, once was

grace;
grace that with tenderness and sense combined
to form that harmony of soul and face,

where beauty shines the mirror of the mind. Such was the maid that in the morn of youth,

in virgin innocence, in nature's pride, blest with each art that owes its charm to truth,

sunk in her father's fond embrace and died. He weeps. O! venerate the holy tear!

faith lends her aid to ease affliction's load: the parent mourns his child upon its bier, the Christian yields an angel to his God.

W. MASON

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