They kist, and wept; and from their lips and eyes,
In a mixt dew of briny sweet,

Their joys and sorrows meet2;
But she crys out. NYм. Shepherd, arise,
The Sun betrays us else to spies.

1 This pastoral dialogue seems to be entirely an imitation of the scene between Romeo and Juliet, Act. iii. sc. 7. The time, the persons, the sentiments, the expressions, are the same. JUL. Yon light is not day-light, I know it well; It is some meteor, &c.

To light thee on thy way to Mantua.

2 It is impossible to pass over these three lines

SHEPHERD.

The winged houres fly fast whilst we embrace;
But when we want their help to meet,
They move with leaden feet.

NYM. Then let us pinion Time, and chace
The day for ever from this place.

SHEPHERD.

Hark! NYM. Ah me stay! SHEP. For ever. NYM. No, arise;

We must be gone. SHEP. My nest of spice. NYM. My soul. SHEP. My paradise. [eyes CHO. Neither could say farewell, but through their Grief interrupted speech with tears supplies.

RED AND WHITE ROSES.

READ in these roses the sad story
Of my hard fate and your own glory:
In the white you may discover
The paleness of a fanting lover;
In the red, the flames still feeding

On my heart with fresh wounds bleeding.
The white will tell you how I languish,
And the red express my anguish :
The white my innocence displaying,
The red my martyrdom betraying.
The frowns that on your brow resided,
Have those roses thus divided;

Oh! let your smiles but clear the weather,
And then they both shall grow together.

ΤΟ

MY COUSIN C. R.

MARRYING MY LADA A.

HAPPY youth, that shall possess
Such a spring-tide of delight,
As the sated appetite,
Still enjoying such excess,
With the flood of pleasure, less
When the hymeneal rite

Is perform'd, invoke the night,
That it may in shadows dress
Thy too real happiness;

Else, as Semele1, the bright
Deity in her full height

May thy feeble soul oppress.
Strong perfumes and glaring light
Oft destroy both smell and sight.

with inattention. The delicacy of the thought is equalled only by the simplicity of the description. Those soft sensations which arise in lovers when their joys and sorrows meet, as a man of genius only can describe them, so a man of taste only can conceive them.

A LOVER

UPON AN ACCIDENT NECESSITATING HIS DEPAKTURE, CONSULTS WITH REASON.

LOVER.

WEEP not, nor backward turn your beams,
Fond eyes; sad sighs, lock in your breath;
Lest on this wind, or in those streams,

My griev'd soul fly, or sail to death,
Fortune destroys me if I stay,
Love kills me if I go away;

Since Love and Fortune both are blind,
Come, Reason, and resolve my doubtful mind.

REASON.

Fly, and blind Fortune be thy guide,
And 'gainst the blinder god rebel;
Thy love-sick heart shall not reside
Where scorn and self-will'd errour dwell;
Where entrance unto truth is barr'd;
Where love and faith find no reward;
For my just hand may sometime move
The wheel of Fortune, not the sphere of Love.

PARTING, CELIA WEEPS.

WEEP not, my dear, for I shall go
Loaden enough with my own woe:
Add not thy heaviness to mine;
Since fate our pleasures must disjoin,
Why should our sorrows meet? If I
Must go, and lose thy company,
I wish not theirs; it shall relieve
My grief, to think thou dost not grieve.
Yet grieve and weep, that I may bear
Every sigh and every tear
Away with me; so shall thy breast
And eyes, discharg'd, enjoy their rest:
And it will glad my heart, to see
Thou wert thus loth to part with me.

ЕРІТАРН

ON THE LADY MARY VILLIERS'.

THE lady Mary Villiers lies

Under this stone: with weeping eyes
The parents that first gave her breath,
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 their's thine own hard case;
For thou perhaps at thy return

of his divinity.

'Daughter of George Villiers duke of Buckingham.

ANOTHER.

THE purest soul that e'er was sent
Into a clayey tenement

Inform'd this dust; but the weak mould
Could the great guest no longer hold;
The substance was too pure; the flame
Too glorious that thither came :
=Ten thousand Cupids brought along
A grace on each wing, that did throng
For place there till they all opprest
The seat in which they sought to rest;
So the fair model broke, for want
Of room to lodge th' inhabitant.

ANOTHER.

THIS little vault, this narrow room,
Of love and beauty is the tomb :
The dawning beam, that 'gan to clear
Our clouded sky, lies darken'd here,
For ever set to us, by death
Sent to inflame the world beneath'.
'Twas but a bud, yet did contain
More sweetness than shall spring again;
A budding star that might have grown
Into a sun, when it had blown.
This hopeful beauty did create
New life in Love's declining state;
But now his empire ends, and we

From fire and wounding darts are free:
His brand, his bow, let no man fear;
The flames, the arrows, all lie here.

In height it soar'd to God above,
In depth it did to knowledge move,
And spread in breadth to gen'ral love.

Before, a pious duty shin'd
To parents; courtesy, behind;
On either side an equal mind.

Good to the poor, to kindred dear,
To servants kind, to friendship clear,
To nothing but herself severe.

So, though a virgin, yet a bride
To every grace, she justify'd
A chaste polygamy, and dy'd.

Learn from hence (reader) what small trust
We owe this world, where Virtue must,
Frail as our flesh, crumble to dust.

ΕΡΙΤΑΡΗ

ON THE LADY S. WIFE TO SIR W. S.

THE harmony of colours, features, grace,
Resulting airs (the magic of a face)

Of musical sweet tunes, all which combin'd
To crown one sovereigu beauty, lie confin'd
To this dark vault: she was a cabinet
Where all the choicest stones of price were set;
Whose native colours and pure lustre lent
Her eye, cheek, lip, a dazzling ornament;
Whose rare and hidden virtues did express
Her inward beauties and mind's fairer dress;
The constant diamond, the wise chrysolite,
The devout sapphire, em'rald apt to write
Records of mem'ry, cheerful agate, grave
And serious onyx, topaz that doth save
The brain's calm temper, witty amethyst;
This precious quarry, or what else the list
On Aaron's ephod planted had, she wore:
One only pearl was wanting to her store;
Which in her Saviour's book she found exprest;
To purchase that, she sold Death all the rest.

'Politeness, as well as charity, must incline us to believe, that the bard alludes in this expression to the heathen mythology, and that by the words "world beneath" he means the Elysium of the ancients.

ON THE DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM2.

BEATISSIMIS MANIBUS CHARISSIMI VIRI ILLMA CONJUNX
SIC PARENTAVIT.

WHEN, in the brazen leaves of fame,
The life the death of Buckingbam
Shall be recorded, if Truth's hand
Incise the story of our land,
Posterity shall see a fair
Structure, by the studious care
Of two kings raised, that no less
Their wisdom than their pow'r express;
By blinded zeal (whose doubtful light
Made Murder's scarlet robe seem white,
Whose vain-deluding phantasms charm'd
A clouded sullen soul, and arm'd
A desperate hand thirsty of blood)
Toru from the fair earth where it stood;
So the majestic fabric fell.
His actions let our annals tell;

She was the eldest daughter of sir Thomas Wentworth, who was afterwards raised to the title of Cleveland, and to several important dignities in the state, by the interest of archbishop Laud.

2 This was George Villiers, the first duke of Buckingham, who was introduced to the court of James I. as his favourite; and afterwards, in the reign of Charles I. ascended to the highest dignities. He was the admiration and terrour of his time.

READER, when these dumb stones have told
In borrowed speech what guest they hold,
Thou shalt confess the vain pursuit
Of human glory yields no fruit;
But an untimely grave. If Fate
Could constant happiness create,
Her ministers, Fortune and Worth,
Had here that miracle brought forth :
They fix'd this child of honour where
No room was left for hope or fear,
Of more or less: so high, so great
His growth was, yet so safe his seat:
Safe in the circle of his friends;
Safe in his loyal heart and ends;
Safe in his native valiant spirit;
By favour safe, and safe by merit;
Safe by the stamp of Nature, which

Did strength with shape and grace enrich;
Safe in the cheerful courtesies

Of flowing gestures, speech, and eyes;
Safe in his bounties, which were more
Proportion'd to his mind than store:
Yet though for virtue he becomes
Involv'd himself in borrow'd sums,
Safe in his care, he leaves betray'd
No friend, engag'd no debt unpaid.

But though the stars conspire to show'r
Upon one head th' united power
Of all their graces, if their dire
Aspects must other breasts inspire
With vicious thoughts, a murderer's knife
May cut (as here) their darling's life:
Who can be happy then, if Nature must,
To make one happy man, make all men just?

3 This little poem is not destitute of some pathetic touches, expressive of the illustrious lady's grief who is supposed to utter them; but the eight concluding lines, instead of being the mournful monody of a widow, degrade it into the wretched conceit of a poetaster.-But this was the fashion of the times.

As streams, which from their chrystal spring
Do sweet and clear their waters bring,
Yet, mingling with the brackish main,
Nor taste nor colour they retain.

QUESTION.

Yet rivers 'twixt their own banks flow Still fresh can Jealousy do so?

ANSWER.

Yes, whilst she keeps the stedfast ground
Of Hope and Fear, her equal bound:
Hope, sprung from favour, worth, or chance,
Tow'rds the fair object doth advance;
Whilst Fear, as watchful centinel,
Doth the invading foe repel;
And Jealousy, thus mixt, doth prove
The season and the salt of love:
But when Fear takes a larger scope,
Stifling the child of reason, Hope,
Then, sitting on th' usurped throne,
She like a tyrant rules alone;
As the wild ocean unconfin'd,
And raging as the northern wind.

A LOVER, IN THE DISGUISE OF AN AMAZON, IS DEARLY
BELOVED OF HIS MISTRESS.

CEASE, thou afflicted soul, to mourn,
Whose love and faith are paid with scorn;
For I am starv'd that feel the blisses,
Of dear embraces, smiles and kisses,
From my soul's idol, yet complain
Of equal love more than disdain.

Cease, beauty's exile, to lament
The frozen shades of banishment,
For I in that fair bosom dwell,
That is my Paradise and Hell;
Banish'd at home, at once at ease
In the safe port, and tost on seas.

Cease in cold jealous fears to pine,
Sad wretch, whom rivals undermine;
For though I had lock'd in mine arms
My life's sole joy, a traitor's charms
Prevail; whilst I may only blame
Myself, that mine own rival am.