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 •XC'i^i I 
 
ENGLISH CLASSICS. 
 
 SELECTIO:^S 
 
 FROM SEVER AI. OF THE MORE EMINENT 
 
 Cavalier Poets. 
 
 WITH AN INTRODUCTION AND BRIEF BIOGRAPHICAL. AND 
 CRITICAL NOTES, 
 
 BY 
 
 CHARLES W. PEARSON, A.M., 
 
 PROFESSOR OF ENGLISH LITERATURE AND HISTORT, NORTHWESTERN 
 UNIVERSITY, EVANSTON, ILL. 
 
 FIRST SERIES. 
 
 NEW YORK : 
 
 Clark & Maynard, Publishers, 
 
 734 Broadwat. 
 
English Classics, ) 
 
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 CLASSES IN ENGLISH LITERATURE, READING, GRAMMAR, ETC. 
 
 Edited et Eminent English and American Scholars. 
 
 Each Volume contains a Sketch of the Author's lAfe, Prefatory and 
 Explanatory Notes, etc., etc. 
 
 Byron's Prophecy of Bante. (Cantos 
 
 I. and II.) 
 Milton's L' Allegro and II Penseroso. 
 Lord Bacon's Essays, Civil and 
 
 Moral. (Selected.) 
 Byron's Prisoner of Chillon. 
 Moore's Fire- Worshippers. (Lalla 
 
 Bookh. Selected from Parts I. and II,) 
 Goldsmith's Deserted Village. 
 Scott's M a r m i o n. Selections from 
 
 Canto VI.) 
 Scott's Lay of the Last Minstrel. 
 
 (Introduction ind Canto I.) 
 Burns' €c<;ter's Saturday Night, and 
 
 Other Poems. 
 Crabhe's The Village. 
 11 Oamphell's Pleasures of Hope. 
 
 (Abridgment of Part I.) 
 
 13 Macaulay's Essay on Bunyan's Pil- 
 
 grim's Progress. 
 18 Macaulay's Armada, and Other 
 Poems. 
 
 14 Shakespeare's Merchant of Venice. 
 
 (Selections from Acts I., III. and IV.) 
 Itt. Goldsmith's TraTeUer. 
 
 Others in 
 
 4 
 5 
 
 10 
 
 16 Hogg's Queen's Wake. 
 
 IT Coleridge's Ancient Mariner. 
 
 18 Addison's Sir Roger de Coverley. 
 
 19 Gray's Elegy in a Country Chureh. 
 
 yard, 
 ao Scott's Lady of the Lake. (Canto I.) 
 81 Shakespeare's As You Like It, etc. 
 
 (Selections.) 
 
 33 Shakespeare's King John and King 
 
 Richard II. (Selections.) 
 38 Shakespeare's King Henry IV., 
 King Henry V., King Henry VI. 
 (Selections.) 
 
 34 Shakespeare's Henry VIH., and 
 
 Julius Caesar. (Selections ) 
 
 35 Wordsworth's Excursion. (Book I.) 
 
 36 Pope's Essay on Criticism. 
 
 37 Spenser's Faerie Queene. (Cantos I. 
 
 and II.) 
 
 38 Cowper's Task. (Book I.) 
 
 39 Milton's Comus. 
 
 80 Tennyson's Enoch Arden. 
 
 81 IrTing's Sketch Book. (Selections.) 
 83 Dickens' Christmas Carol. (Con- 
 densed.) 
 
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 COPTBIGHT, 18?3, BY CLARI & MaTNASD* 
 

 Inteoductiois^. 
 
 The poetry of the reign of Charles I. and the Commonwealth 
 (1625-1660), has a claim upon us for its intrinsic interest, and 
 as an illustration of the time. The age was that of the great 
 Puritan movement, a stupendous effort to bring political and 
 social life into accord with the law of God, laid down in the 
 Bible. The austerities of the movement were naturally opposed 
 by the gay and worldly ; and when at length the Puritans took 
 up arms and associated in men's minds religious reform with 
 disloyalty, Royalists too commonly adopted gayety, irreligion 
 and gallantry as badges of a faithful subject of the king. Those 
 who followed the royal banner were styled Cavaliers, and their 
 opponents in derision Roundheads. The poets, as might be ex- 
 pected, belonged all but universally (Milton, Marvell, and after 
 a time Wither, are tlie only exceptions) to the party of the Cava- 
 liers ; and hence the name we have adopted for them. The ar- 
 gument of Herrick's book describes the verses of many of his 
 brother poets almost as justly as his own : 
 
 "I sing of brooks, of blossomes, birds and bowers ; 
 Of April, May, of June, and July flowers ; 
 I sing of May-poles, hock-carts, wassails, wakes ; 
 Of bridegrooms, brides, and of their bridall-cakes." 
 
 Poetry on such subjects can only be of a lowly order, can have 
 little originality, grandeur, or truth or depth of feeling. On 
 the other hand, it may have much picturesqueness and prettiness 
 of phrase, and will serve as a pleasant relief and contrast to the 
 mighty lines that '' suggest life's endless toil and endeavor." 
 The poetr}^ of this period, the golden one of English song, is 
 entitled to at least this praise. England was " a nest of singing 
 birds," and if their notes were not very high or prolonged, they 
 were often exquisitely sweet and tender. The chief fault of the 
 poetry of the day, considered not from its moral but its artistic 
 side, is affectation. It is full of ingenious surprises, of odd met- 
 aphors, of over-wrought comparisons, of conceits. A lyric 
 should be simple in language and surcharged with emotion, but 
 in many of these lyrics intellect predominates over feeling. Dr. 
 Johnson on this account gave the writers the name of the meia- 
 physkcd poets, and Arnold not less appropriately designated 
 
 3 
 
4 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 them as the faniastks. When a poet warus us against worldli- 
 uess in lan<i;uage like this : 
 
 " Judge in thyself, O Christian, is it meet 
 To set thy heart on what beasts set their feet ?" 
 
 it is wit and ingenuity that w^e admire, not poetry. When Her- 
 bert sings : 
 
 " Sweet day, so cool, i^o calm, so bright. 
 The bridal of the earth and side : 
 The dew shall tveep thy fall io-night. 
 For thou must die," 
 
 who does not admire the exquisite beauty of the metaphor in 
 spite of its untruth. But when, in the next stanza of the poem 
 the poet says to the rose, 
 
 " Thy root is ever in its grave, 
 And thou must die," 
 
 this, again, is a mere poetical pun, and affects us only as such. 
 
 With all its defects of taste, Herbert's poetr}^, excepting, of 
 course, the lofty verse of Milton, is the noblest of the day. 
 Henry Vaughan observes in reference to it, and to the impure 
 literature then so fashionable, '' the first that, with any effectual 
 success, attempted a diversion of this foul and overflowing 
 stream, was the blessed man, Mr. George Herbert, whose holy 
 life and verse gained many pious converts." In the works of 
 many of his contemporaries, and especially of Herrick, one is 
 reminded of the truth of the language of the father of English 
 poetry : 
 
 " For thilke ground that bears the weedes wick, 
 Bears eke the wholesome herbes, and full oft, 
 Next to the foule nettle rough and thick, 
 The lily waxeth, white, and smooth, and soft." 
 
 Not even for the sake of historic truth have w^e introduced any 
 of the '^ foule nettles " that then grew so plentifully, yet other- 
 wise it is believed that a faithful, though favorable, view of the 
 poetry of the period may be obtained from the extracts, repre- 
 senting six writers, in this little volume. 
 
 The general reader who may consider the criticisms and notes 
 too simple, is asked to remember that the}' are intended mainly 
 for school use. Tlie spelling is, in all cases, that of the earliest 
 accessible version. For historic study, the advantages of retain- 
 ing the author's own spelling, instead of modernizing his text, 
 a-re obvious. 
 
Robert Herrick. 
 
 (b. 1591 ; d. 1674.) 
 
 Robert Herrick speDt most of his life in studious retire- 
 ment, fourteen years at the University of Cambridge and twenty 
 subsequent ones in a quiet vicarage iu Devonshire. Though 
 dispossessed of his clerical living for twelve years under the 
 Puritan rule, there is little trace in his writings of the storms 
 of the time in which he lived. Nor did his sacred calling 
 effectually mould liis character. Although about one-sixth of 
 his poems are " Noble Numbers," songs of the birth of Christ 
 and sighs for his sufferings on the cross, these are weak and 
 tame compared with his other verses, and owe whatever excel- 
 lence they have rather to external adornment than to spiritual 
 fervor. In reality, he is a thorough Pagan, and breathes the 
 spirit of Anacreon and Theocritus. The title of his sunny 
 volume is the Hesperides, and through its pages lie revels in a 
 sensuous paradise. Often and lamentably lie oversteps the 
 bounds of decency and morality, and occasionally the most 
 buoyant spirits in English literature flag. His offences against 
 good morals caused a transient penitence, enough to make him 
 regret, but not to expungehis " unbaptized rhymes." He was 
 a master of poetic form, and had strong hope of the fame that 
 seems likely to be his for generations to come. Though he 
 says to his " booke," 
 
 "If thou know'st not where to dwell, 
 See the tier's by : Farewell," 
 
 on the next page we find him writing, in imitation of Horace : 
 
 " Fame's pillar here at last we set, 
 Out-during marble, brasse, or jet." 
 
 CORINNA'S GOING A-MAYING. 
 
 GrET up, get up for shame ! the blooming morne 
 
 Upon her wings presents the god unshorne. 
 
 See how Aurora throws her faire 
 
 Fresh-quilted colours through the aire! 
 
 Get up, sweet slug-a-bed, and see 
 
 The dew bespangling herbe and tree. 
 
 Each flow^er has wept, and bow'd toward the east. 
 
 Above an houre since ; yet you are not drest, 
 
 Nay! not so much as out of bed? 
 
 When all the birds have matins seyd, 
 
 5 
 
ROBERT HERRICK. 
 
 And sung their thankful hymnes, 'tis sin, 
 Nay profanation to keep in 
 When as a thousand virgins, on this day, 
 Spring sooner than the lark, to fetch in May. 
 
 Rise, and put on youre foliage, and be seene 
 
 To come forth, like the spring-time, fresh and greene 
 
 And sweet as Flora. Take no care 
 
 For jewels for your gown or haire. 
 
 Feare not, the leaves will strew 
 
 Gemms in abundance upon you. 
 
 Besides, the childhood of the day has kept. 
 
 Against you come, some orient pearls unwept : 
 
 Come and receive them while the light 
 
 Hangs on the dew-locks of the night, 
 
 And Titan ^ on the eastern hill 
 
 Retires himself e, or else stands still 
 
 Till you come forth. Wash, dresse, be brief in praying : 
 
 Few beads "^ are best, when once we goe a-Maying. 
 
 Come, my Corinna, come; and comming marke 
 
 How each field turns a sJDreet, each street a parke 
 
 Made green, and trimm'd with trees: see how 
 
 Devotion gives each house a bough 
 
 Or branch : each porch, each doore, ere this 
 
 An arke, a tabernacle is, 
 
 Made up of white-thorn neatly enterwove; 
 
 As if here were those cooler shades of love. 
 
 Can such delights be in the street 
 
 And open fields, and we not see 't ? 
 
 Come, we'll abroad; and let's obay 
 
 The proclamation made for May, 
 
 And sin no more, as we have done, by staying ; 
 
 But, my Corinna, come, let's goe a-Maying. 
 
 There's not a budding boy or girl, this day, 
 But is got up, and gone to bring in May. 
 
 1 The sun. 
 
 2 By metonymy for prayers. Romish worshipers pasis a bead through 
 tlieir fingers with each prayer. 
 
 ( 
 
ROBERT HERRICK. / 7 
 
 A deale of youth, ere this, is come 
 
 Back, and with white-thorn laden home 
 
 Some have dispatcht their cakes and creame, 
 
 Before that we have left to dreame : 
 
 And some have wept, and woo'd, and plighted troth, 
 
 And chose their priest, ere we can cast off sloth. 
 
 Many a greene-gown has been given ; 
 
 Many a kisse both odd and even ; 
 
 Many a glance too has been sent 
 
 From out the eye, love's firmament; 
 
 Many a jest told of the keyes betraying 
 
 This night, and locks pickt, yet w' are not a-Maying. 
 
 Come, let us goe, while we are in our prime, 
 
 And take the harmlesse follie of the time. 
 
 We shall grow old apace, and die 
 
 Before we know our liberty. 
 
 Our life is short, and our dayes run 
 
 As fast away as do's the sunne ; 
 
 And as a vapour, or a drop of raine. 
 
 Once lost can ne'er be found againe, 
 
 So when or you or I are made 
 
 A fable, song, or fleeting shade, 
 
 All love, all liking, all delight, 
 
 Lies drown'd with us in endlesse night. 
 
 Then while time serves, and we are but decaying; 
 
 Come, my Corinna, come, let's goe a-Maying. 
 
 TO DAFFADILS. 
 
 Faire Daffadills, we weep to see 
 
 You haste away so soone : 
 As yet the early-rising sun 
 Has not attained his noone. 
 Stay, stay, 
 Until the hasting day 
 
 Has run 
 But to the even song ; 
 
ROBERT HERRICK. 
 
 And, having pray'd together, we 
 Will goe with you along ! 
 
 We have short time to stay as you ; 
 
 We have as short a spring ; 
 As quick a growth to meet decay. 
 As you, or anything. 
 We die, 
 As your hours doe, and drie 
 
 Away, 
 Like to the summer's raine ; 
 
 Or as the pearles of morning's dew, 
 Ne'er to be found againe. 
 
 THE ROCK OF RUBIES ! AND THE QUARRIE OF PEARLS. 
 
 Some ask'd me where the rubies grew. 
 
 And nothing I did say, 
 But with my finger pointed to 
 
 The lips of Julia. 
 
 Some ask'd how pearls did grow, and where ; 
 
 Then spoke I to my girle, 
 To part her lips, and shew'd them there 
 
 The quarelets of pearl. 
 
 One ask'd me where the roses grew, 
 
 I bade him not go seek ; 
 But forthwith bade my Julia show 
 
 A bud in either cheek. 
 
 TO THE VIRGINS, TO MAKE MUCH OF TIME. 
 
 Gather ye rosebuds while ye may : 
 
 Old time is still a-flying ; 
 And this same flower that smiles to-day. 
 
 To-morrow will be dying. 
 
 The glorious lamp of Heaven, the sun, 
 
 The higher he's a-getting. 
 The sooner will his race be run. 
 
 And nearer he's to setting. 
 
 IL- 
 
ROBERT HERRICK. ^ 
 
 That age is best which is the first, 
 
 When youth and blood are warmer ; 
 But being spent, the worse, and worst 
 
 Time still succeeds the former. 
 Then be not coy, but use your time. 
 
 And while ye may, goe marry ; 
 For having lost but once your prime, 
 
 You may forever tarry. 
 
 THE PRIMROSE. 
 
 AsKE me why I send you here 
 
 This sweet infanta of the yeere ? 
 
 Aske me why I send to you 
 
 This primrose, thus bepearl'd with dew ? 
 
 I will whisper to your eares. 
 
 The sweets of love are mixt with tears. 
 
 Ask me why this flower do's show 
 So yellow-green and sickly too ? 
 Ask me why the stalk is weak 
 And bending, yet it doth not break ? 
 1 will answer, these discover 
 What fainting hopes are in a lover. 
 
 HIS WISH TO PRIVACIE. 
 
 Give me a cell. 
 
 To dwell 
 
 Where no foot hath 
 
 A path : 
 
 There will I spend, 
 
 And end 
 
 My wearied yeares 
 
 In teares. 
 
 ON HIMSELFE. 
 The worke is done. Young men and maidens set 
 Upon my curies the mirtle coronet, 
 
10 KOBEET HERRICK. 
 
 Washt with sweet ointments : thus at last I come 
 To suffer in the muses martyrdome : 
 But with this comfort : if my blood be shed 
 The muses will weare blackes when I am dead. 
 
 HIS CONFESSION. 
 
 Look how our foule dayes do exceed our f aire : 
 And as our bad more then our good works are, 
 Ev'n so those lines, penned by my wanton wit. 
 Treble the number of these good I've writ. 
 Things precious are least numerous: men are prone 
 To do ten bad, for one good action. 
 
 HIS PRAYER FOR ABSOLUTION. 
 
 For those my unbaptized rhimes, 
 Writ in my wild unhallowed times; 
 For every sentence, clause, and word, 
 That's not inlaid with Thee, my Lord, 
 Forgive me, God, and blot each line 
 Out of my book, that is not thine. 
 But if 'mongst all, thou find'st here one 
 Worthy thy benediction. 
 That one of all the rest shall be 
 The glory of my work and me. 
 
 TO KEEP A TRUE LENT. 
 
 Is this a fast, to keep 
 The larder leane. 
 And cleane 
 From fat of veales and sheep? 
 
 Is it to quit the dish 
 Of flesh, yet still 
 To fill 
 The platter high with fish? 
 
GEORGE HERBERT. 11 
 
 Is it to fast an houre, 
 Or ray'd ^ to go 
 Or show 
 A down -cast look and sowre ? 
 
 No : 'tis a fast to dole 
 Thy sheaf of wheat 
 And meat 
 Unto the hungry soule. 
 
 It is to fast from strife, 
 From all debate 
 And hate ; 
 To circumcise thy life, 
 
 To show a heart grief-rent; 
 To sterve ^ thy sin, 
 Not bin: 
 And that's to keep thy Lent. 
 
 George Herbert. 
 
 (b. 1593 ; d. 1633.) 
 
 George Herbert early took holy orders, and was distin- 
 guished for piety and the exemplary discharge of his clerical 
 duties. His fame as "Holy George Herbert" is one of the 
 treasures of the Anglican communion and of the Christian world; 
 and his deep and humble piety has been a consolation to many 
 kindred souls, among whom may be especiall}^ mentioned the 
 gifted but desponding Cowper. 
 
 The language of Herbert is exceedingly quaint, but his 
 thought is clear, true and elevated ; and many readers will 
 a^ree with the judgment of Coleridge that his " poems are for 
 the most part exquisite in their kind." For a brief notice of 
 their defects, see the Introduction. Herbert's chief work is 
 called "The Temple." 
 
 VERTUE. 
 Sweet day, so cool, so calm, so bright. 
 
 The bridal of the earth and skie ; 
 The dew shall weep thy fall to-night ; 
 
 For thou must die. 
 
 1 Ragged. 2 starve. 
 
12 GEOKGE HERBEKT. 
 
 Sweet Rose, whose hue, angrie and brave, 
 
 Bids the rash gazer wipe his eye ; 
 Thy root is ever in its grave, ^ 
 
 And thou must die. 
 
 Sweet Spring, full of sweet days and roses, 
 A box ' where sweets compacted lie ; 
 
 My music k shows ye have your closes, 
 And all must die. . 
 
 Onely a sweet and vertuous soul, 
 Like seasoned timber ^ never gives ; 
 
 But, though the whole world turn to coal. 
 Then chiefly lives. 
 
 THE PULLEY. 1 
 
 When God at first made man, 
 Having a glasse of blessings standing by. 
 Let us, said he, poure on him all we can, 
 Let the world's riches, which dispersed lie, 
 
 Contract into a span. 
 
 So strength first made a way ; 
 Then beautie flow'd; then wisdome, honour, pleasure: 
 When almost all was out, God made a stay, 
 Perceiving that alone, of all his treasure, 
 
 Rest in the bottome lay. 
 
 For if I should, said he, 
 Bestow this Jewell also on my creature. 
 He would adore my gifts instead of me, 
 And rest in nature, not the God of nature : 
 
 So both should losers be. 
 
 Yet let him keep the rest, 
 But keep them with repining restlessnesse : 
 Let him be rich, and wearie, that at least. 
 If goodness lead him not, yet wearinesse 
 
 May tosse him to my breast. 
 
 J A far-fetched comparison like this is csdleda conceit. The following 
 extracts from Herbert abound in j^imilar examples of extravagance of 
 
GEORGE HERBERT. 13^ 
 
 PEACE. 
 
 Sweet Peace, where dost thou dwell ? I humbly crave, 
 
 Let me once know. 
 I sought thee in a secret cave, 
 
 And ask'd if Peace were here. 
 A hollow wind did seem to answer, No: 
 
 Go, seek elsewhere. 
 
 I did ; and, going, did a rainbow note : 
 
 Surely, thought I, 
 This is the lace of Peace's coat : 
 
 I will searche out the matter. 
 But, while I look't, the clouds immediately 
 
 Did break and scatter. 
 
 Then went I to a garden, and did spy 
 
 A gallant flower, 
 The crown iraperiall : Sure, said I, 
 
 Peace at the root must dwell ; 
 But, when I digg'd, I saw a worm devoure 
 
 What show'd so well. 
 
 At length I met a rev'rend good old man ; 
 
 Whom, when for Peace 
 I did demand, he thus began : — 
 
 There was a Prince of old 
 At Salem ^ dwelt, who lived with good increase 
 
 Of flock and fold. 
 
 He sweetly liv'd ; yet sweetnesse did not save 
 
 His life from foes. 
 But, after death, out of his grave 
 
 There sprang twelve stalks - of wheat : 
 Which many wondering at, got some of those 
 
 To plant and set. 
 
 fancy. Most of the poetry in this volume is tinged by the same faults. 
 The teacher should require his pupils to point out the more conspicuous 
 instances. 
 1 Jerusalem. '^ The Apostles. 
 
14 GEORGE HERBERT. 
 
 It prospered strangely, and did soon disperse 
 
 Through all the earth ; 
 For they that taste it do rehearse 
 
 That vertue lies therein : 
 A secret vertue, bringing peace and mirth, 
 
 By flight of sinne. 
 
 Take of this grain, which in my garden grows. 
 
 And grows for you : 
 Make bread of it ; and that repose 
 
 And peace, which ev'ry where 
 With so much earnestnesse you do pursue. 
 
 Is only there. 
 
 SUNDAY. 
 
 DAY most calm, most bright I 
 The fruit of this, the next world's bud ; 
 
 Th' endorsement of supreme delight. 
 Writ by a friend, and with his bloud ; 
 
 The couch of time, cares balm and bay; i 
 
 The week were dark, but for thy light : 
 Thy torch doth show the way. 
 
 The other dayes and thou 
 
 Make up one man, whose face thou art, 
 Knocking at heaven with thy brow : 
 
 The worky-daies are the back-part ; 
 The burden of the week lies there, 
 Making the whole to stoup and bow. 
 
 Till thy release appeare. 
 
 Man had straight forward gone 
 
 To endlesse 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. 
 
 I Sunday keeps care at bay. 
 
GEORGE HERBERT. 15 
 
 Sundaies the pillars are, 
 
 On which heav'ns palace arched lies : 
 The other dayes fill up the spare 
 
 And hollow room with vanities. 
 They are the fruitfull beds and borders 
 In Gods rich garden ; that is bare 
 
 Which parts their ranks and orders. ^ 
 
 The Sundaies of man's life, 
 
 Thredded together on time's string, 
 Make bracelets to adorn the wife 
 
 Of the eternall, glorious king. 
 On Sunday, heaven's gate stands ope ; 
 Blessings are plentifull arid rife, 
 
 More plentifull than hope. 
 
 This day my Saviour rose, 
 
 And did inclose this light for his : 
 That as each beast his manger knows, 
 
 Man might not of his fodder misse. 
 Christ hath took in this piece of ground. 
 And made a garden there for those 
 
 Who want herbs for their wound. 
 
 The rest of our creation, 
 
 Our great Redeemer did remove 
 With the same shake which, at his passion 
 
 Did th' earth and all things with it move, 
 As Samson bore the doores away, 
 Christ's hands, though nail'd, wrought our salvation. 
 
 And did unhinge that day. 
 
 The brightnesse of that day 
 
 We sullied by our foul offence ; 
 Wherefore that robe we cast away, 
 
 Having a new at His expense, 
 
 1 This extravao-ance reminds one of the old Jewish Rabbi whose zeal 
 for iheoZe^^{<^ofXhe day of rest was such that he taught his pupils 
 that man was created to keep the Sabbath. 
 
16 GEORGE HERBERT. 
 
 Whose drops of bloud paid the full price, 
 That was required to make us gay, 
 And fit for paradise. 
 
 Thou art a day of mirth, 
 
 And where the week-dayes trail on ground. 
 Thy flight is higher, as thy birth. 
 
 let me take thee at the bound, 
 Leaping with thee from sev'n to sev'n, 
 Till that we both, being toss'd from earth, 
 
 Flie hand in hand to heav'n ! 
 
 STANZAS FROM '^THE CHURCH PORCH.'" 
 
 PEPJRRHANTERIUM.l 
 
 Thou whose sweet youth and early -hopes inhance 
 Thy rate and price, and mark thee for a treasure, 
 
 Hearken unto a Verser, w^ho may chance 
 Rhyme thee to good, and make a bait of pleasure : 
 
 A verse may finde him who a sermon flies. 
 
 And turne delight into a sacrifice. 
 
 Yet if thou sinne in wine or wantonnesse. 
 Boast not thereof ; nor make thy shame thy glorie. 
 
 Frailtie gets pardon by submissivenesse ; 
 But he that boasts shuts that out of his storie ; 
 
 He makes flat warre with God, and doth defie 
 
 With his poore clod of earthe the spacious sky. 
 
 Take not His name, who made thy mouth, in vain ; 
 
 It gets thee nothing, and hath no excuse. 
 Lust and wine plead a pleasure ; avarice, gain : 
 
 But the cheap swearer through his open sluice 
 Lets his soul runne for nought, as little fearing : 
 Were I an epicure, I could bate swearing. 
 
 Man is God's image ; but a poore man is 
 Christ's stamp to boot ; ^ both images regard. 
 
 1 The title in its Latin form. ^ jn addition. 
 
THOMAS CAREW. 17 
 
 God reckons for him, counts the favour his : 
 
 Write, So much giv'n to God ; thou shalt be heard. 
 Let thy almes go before, and keep heavn's gate 
 Open for thee ; or both may come too late. 
 
 When once thy foot enters* the church, be bare. 
 
 God is more there than thou ; for thou art there 
 Onely by his permission. Then beware, 
 
 And make thyself all reverence and fear, 
 Kneeling ne're spoil'd silk stocking : quit thy state. 
 All equal are within the church's gate. 
 
 Resort to sermons, but to prayers most : 
 Praying's the end of preaching. be drest ; 
 
 Stay not for th* other pin : why thou hast lost 
 A joy for it worth worlds. Thus hell doth jest 
 
 Away thy blessings, and extreamly flout thee, 
 
 Thy clothes being fast, but thy soul loose about thee. 
 
 Judge not the preacher ; for he is thy judge : 
 If thou mislike him, thou conceiv'st him not. 
 
 God calleth preaching folly. Do not grudge 
 To pick out treasures from an earthen pot. 
 
 The worst speak something good : if all want sense, 
 
 God takes a text, and preacheth patience. 
 
 Thomas Carew. 
 
 (b. 1589 ; d. 1639.) 
 
 Carew spent a great part of his life at the court of Charles I., 
 and was a favorite poet as well as successful courtier. The fol- 
 lowing estimate of his place in literature is from the pen of 
 Campbell: "The want of boldness and expression in Carew's 
 thoughts and subjects excludes him from rivalship with great 
 poetical names ; nor is it difficult, within the narrow pale of his 
 works, to discover some faults of affectation. But among the 
 poets who have walked in the same limited path, he is pre- 
 eminently beautiful, and deservedly ranks among the earliest 
 of those who gave a cultivated grace to our lyrical strains." 
 
18 THOMAS CAKEW. 
 
 SONG. 
 Ask me no more where Jove bestows, 
 When June is past, the fading rose, 
 For in your beauty's orient peep 
 These flowers, as in their causes, sleep ! 
 
 Ask me no more whither do stray 
 The golden atoms of the day, 
 For, in pure love, heaven did prepare 
 Those powders to enrich your hair. 
 
 Ask me no more whither doth haste 
 The nightingale when May is past, 
 For in your sweet dividing throat 
 She winters and keeps warm her note. 
 
 Ask me no more when those stars light 
 That downwards fall in dead of night, 
 For in your eyes they sit, and there 
 Fixed become as in their sphere. 
 
 CELIA SINGING. 
 
 You that think love can convey 
 
 No other way. 
 
 But through the eyes, into the heart. 
 
 His fatal dart. 
 
 Close up those casements and but hear 
 
 This siren sing, 
 
 And on the wing 
 
 Of her sweet voice it shall appear 
 
 That love can enter at the ear. 
 
 Then unveil your eyes, behold 
 
 The curious mould 
 
 Where that voice dwells, and as we know 
 
 When the cocks crow. 
 
 We freely may 
 
 Gaze on the day. 
 
 So may you, when the music's done. 
 
 Awake and see the rising sun. 
 
THOMAS CAREW. 19 
 
 THE CRUEL MISTRESS. 
 We read of kings and gods that kindly took 
 A pitcher filled with water from the brook, 
 But I have daily tendered without thanks 
 Kivers of tears that overflow their banks ; 
 A slaughtered bull will appease angry Jove ; 
 A horse, the sun ; a lamb, the god of love ; 
 But she disdains the spotless sacrifice 
 Of a pure heart that at her altar lies. 
 Vesta is not displeased if her chaste urn 
 Do with repaired fuel ever burn, 
 But my saint frowns, though to her honoured name 
 I consecrate a never-dying flame. 
 The Assyrian King did none i' the furnace throw 
 But those that to his image did not bow, — 
 With bended knees I daily worship her, 
 Yet she consumes her own idolater. 
 Of such a goddess no times leave record. 
 That burned the temple where she was adored. 
 
 DISDAIN RETURNED. 
 
 He that loves a rosy cheek, 
 
 Or a coral lip admires. 
 
 Or from starlike eyes doth seek 
 
 Fuel to maintain his fires ; 
 
 As old Time makes these decay, 
 
 So his flames must waste away. 
 
 But a smooth and steadfast mind, 
 Gentle thoughts and calm desires, 
 Hearts with equal love combined. 
 Kindle never-dying fires, 
 Where these are not, I despise 
 Lovely cheeks or lips or eyes. 
 
 No tears, Celia, now shall win 
 My resolv'd heart to return ; 
 I have searched thy soul within. 
 And find naught but pride and scorn ; 
 
20 SIR JOH]S' SUCKLING. 
 
 I have learned thy arts, and now 
 Can disdain as much as thou. 
 Some power, ^ in my revenge, convey 
 That love to her I cast away. 
 
 GIVE ME MORE LOVE, OR MORE DISDAm. 
 
 Give me more love, or more disdain; 
 The torrid or the frozen zone 
 Brings equal ease unto my pain ; 
 The temperate affords me none; 
 Either extreme of love or hate, 
 Is sweeter than a calm estate. 
 
 Give me a storm ; if it be love, 
 Like Danae"^ in a golden shower, 
 I swim in pleasure ; if it prove 
 Disdain, that torrent will devour 
 My vulture -hopes; and he's possessed 
 Of heaven that's but from hell released: 
 Then crown my joys, or cure my pain: 
 Give me more love, or more disdain. 
 
 Sir John Suckling. 
 
 (b. 1609 ; d. 1642.) 
 
 Sir John Suckling cut so s^reat a fisrure as a man of wealth 
 and fashion that his poetic merits, great as the}^ are, were over- 
 rated by his contemporaries. Handsome, accomplished, im- 
 mensely rich, and astonishingly profuse, ^vith a great fame for 
 valor, won by his prowess 'as a commander under Gustavus 
 Adolphus in the Thirty Years' War, he was considered the 
 chief poet of the period, a distinction we now give to Herrick. 
 
 Yet it is perhaps true that Suckling exerted the greater 
 influence on tlie epoch and on sncceeding ones. His gay etfront- 
 ery toward the ladies was soon largely substituted for the ser- 
 vile and extravagiint adoration that*^ had marked the age of 
 chivalry, and had continued to be the tone of the Elizabethan 
 poets. 
 
 Suckling left England, after an unsuccessful attempt to re- 
 store the broken authority of the King, and died by his own 
 hand in Paris, in his thirty-fourth year. 
 
 1 Mythological deities are often invoked as " powers." 
 
 2 A maiden wooed by Zeus in the disguise of a shower of gold. 
 
SIR JOHN^ suckli:n^g. 21 
 
 A BALLAD UPON A WEDDING, i 
 I TELL thee, Diek,^ where I have been, 
 Where I the rarest things have seen ; 
 
 Oh, things without compare ! 
 Such sights again cannot be found 
 In any place on English ground, 
 
 Be it at wake or fair. 
 
 At Charing Cross, hard by the way 
 Where we — thou know'st — do sell our hay, 
 
 There is a house with stairs ; 
 And there did I see coming down 
 Such folk as are not in our town. 
 
 Forty at least, in pairs. 
 
 Amongst the rest, one pest'lent fine — 
 His beard no bigger, though, than thine — 
 
 Walked on before the rest. 
 Our landlord looks like nothing to him : 
 The King, God bless him ! 'twould undo him. 
 
 Should he go still so drest. 
 
 But wot you what ? The youth was going 
 To make an end of all his wooing ; 
 
 The parson for him staid : 
 Yet by his leave, for all his haste. 
 He did not so much wish all past, 
 
 Perchance, as did the maid. 
 
 The maid, and thereby hangs a tale, 
 For such a maid no Whitsun-ale^ 
 
 Could ever yet produce : 
 No grape that's kindly ripe could be 
 So round, so plump, so soft as she, 
 
 Nor half so full of juice. 
 
 1 The wedding wa*^ that of Lord Broghill with Lady Margaret Howard. 
 '^ Supposed to refer to Lovelace. 
 
 3 Whitsun-ale means the assembly of merry-makers at the Whitsun- 
 tide festival. 
 
22 SIR JOHK SUCKLIKG. 
 
 Her finger was so small, the ring 
 Would not stay on which they did bring : 
 
 It was too wide a peck : 
 And to say truth — for out it must — 
 It looked like the great collar — just — 
 
 About our young colt's neck. 
 
 Her feet beneath her petticoat, 
 Like little mice, stole in and out, 
 
 As if they feared the light : 
 But oh ! she dances such a way ! 
 No sun upon an Easter day 
 
 Is half so fine a sight. 
 
 Her cheeks so rare a white was on, 
 No daisy makes comparison ; 
 
 Who sees them is undone ; 
 For streaks of red were mingled there, 
 Such as are on a Catherine pear. 
 
 The side that's next the sun. 
 
 Her lips were red ; the one was thin, 
 Compared to that was next her chin. 
 
 Some bee had stung it newly ; 
 But, Dick, her eyes so guard her face, 
 I durst no more upon them gaze, 
 
 Than on the sun in July. 
 
 Passion o' me ! ^ how I run on ! 
 
 There's that that would be thought upon, 
 
 I trow, besides the bride. 
 The business of the kitchen's great. 
 For it is fit that men should eat ; 
 
 Nor was it there denied. 
 
 Just in the nick, the cook knocked thrice, 
 And all the waiters in a trice 
 His summons did obey ; 
 
 ^ Miy p.issioTi J 
 
SIR JOHI^T SUCKLIKG. 23 
 
 Each serving man with dish in hand, 
 Marched boldly up, like our trained band. 
 Presented, and away. 
 
 When all the meat was on the table, 
 What man of knife, or teeth, was able 
 
 To stay to be entreated ? 
 And this the very reason was, 
 Before the parson could say grace 
 
 The company was seated. 
 
 Now hats fly off, and youths carouse ; 
 Healths first go round and then the house. 
 
 The bride's came thick and thick ; 
 And when 'twas named another's health, 
 Perhaps he made it hers by stealth ; 
 
 And who could help it, Dick ? 
 
 On the sudden up they rise and dance ; 
 Then sit again and sigh, and glance ; 
 
 Then dance again and kiss : 
 Thus several ways the time did pass. 
 Whilst ev'ry woman wished her place, 
 
 And every man wished his. 
 
 SONG. 
 I PRITHEE send me back my heart. 
 
 Since I cannot have thine : 
 For if from yours you will not part. 
 
 Why then shouldst thou have mine ? 
 
 Yet now I think on't, let it lie ; 
 
 To find it were in vain, 
 For th' hast a thief in either eye 
 
 Would steal it back again. 
 
 Why should two hearts in one breast lie 
 
 And yet not lodge together ? 
 love, where is thy sympathy. 
 
 If thus our breasts thou sever? 
 
24 SIR JOHN SUCKLIls'G. 
 
 But love is such a mystery, 
 
 I cannot find it out : 
 For when I think I'm best resolv'd, 
 
 I then am most in doubt. 
 
 Then farewell care, and farewell woe, 
 
 I will no longer pine : 
 For I'll believe I have her heart, 
 
 As much as she hath mine. 
 
 CONSTANCY. 
 
 Out upon it, I have lov'd 
 Three whole days together ; 
 
 And am like to love three more, 
 If it prove fair weather. 
 
 Time shall moult away his wings 
 
 Ere he shall discover 
 In the whole wide world again 
 
 Such a constant lover. 
 
 But the spite on't is, no praise 
 
 Is due at all to me ; 
 Love with me had made no stays 
 
 Had it any been but she. 
 
 Had it any been but she 
 
 And that very face, 
 There had been at least ere this 
 
 A dozen in her place. 
 
 WHY so PALE AND WAN, FOND LOVER I 
 
 Why so pale and wan, fond lover! 
 
 Prythee, why so pale? 
 Will, when looking well can't move her, 
 
 Looking ill prevail? 
 
 Prythee why so pale? 
 
 Why so dull and mute, young sinner! 
 Prythee, why so mute? 
 
RICHAKD LOVELACE. 26 
 
 Will, when speaking well can't win her, 
 Saying nothing do 't? 
 Prythee, why so mute? 
 
 Quit, quit for shame ! this will not move, 
 
 This cannot take her. 
 If of herself she will not love, 
 
 Nothing can make her. 
 
 Richard Lovelace, 
 
 (b. 1618 ; d. 1658.) 
 
 Richard Lovelace was an ideal cavalier, remarkable for 
 his chivalry, wit, and beauty of person, amid a throng of brave, 
 polite and handsome men. 
 
 The imprisonment which was the occasion of one of the finest 
 lyrics in the language, was due to his zeal for King Charles I. 
 He presented to the House of Commons a petition that the king 
 might be restored to his sovereign power. The idea of allow- 
 ing the faithless king again to exercise his abused prerogative 
 was not likely to be entertained favorably. The House ordered 
 the burning of the petition, and threw the audacious presenter 
 of it into the Gatehouse prison. His zeal was not checked by 
 this treatment. On the breakino; out of actual hostilities, he 
 "went to the wars," and spent his fortune in fruitless efforts 
 to succour the king, wasting not only his wealth but lavishing 
 the most splendid devotion on an unworthy monarch and a ba^ 
 cause. He died in extreme poverty and wretchedness. 
 
 TO LUC AST A, 1 ON GOING TO THE WARS. 
 Tell me not, sweet, I am unkind, 
 
 That from the nunnery 
 Of thy chaste breast and quiet mind 
 To war and arms I fly. 
 
 True, a new mistress now I chase, 
 
 The first foe in the field ; 
 And with a stronger faith embrace 
 
 A sword, a horse, a shield. 
 
 Yet this inconstancy is such 
 
 As you, too, shall adore ; 
 I could not love you, dear, so much. 
 
 Loved I not honor more. 
 
 1 Miss Lucy Sacheverel. Lucasta, a poetic name from Lux Casta. 
 
26 RICHARD LOVELACE. 
 
 TO ALTHEA, FROM PRISOI^. 
 
 When Love with unconfined wings 
 
 Hovers within my gates, 
 And my divine Althea brings 
 
 To wliisper at my grates ; 
 When I lie tangled in her hair. 
 
 And fettered with her eye, 
 The birds that wanton in the air 
 
 Know no such liberty. 
 
 When flowing cups run swiftly round 
 
 With no allaying Thames,^ 
 Our careless heads with roses crowned, 
 
 Our hearts with loyal flames; 
 When thirsty grief in wine we steep, 
 
 When healths and draughts go free. 
 Fishes that tipple in the deep 
 
 Know no such liberty. 
 
 When linnet-like confined, I 
 
 With shriller notes shall sing 
 The mercy, sweetness, majesty, 
 
 And glories of my king ; 
 When I shall voice aloud how good 
 
 He is, how great should be, 
 The enlarged winds, that curl the flood, 
 
 Know no such liberty. 
 
 Stone walls do not a prison make, 
 
 Nor iron bars a cage; 
 Minds, innocent and quiet, take 
 
 That for an hermitage : 
 If I have freedom in my love, 
 
 And in my soul am free, 
 Angels alone, that soar above. 
 
 Enjoy such liberty. 
 
 1 England'* cliief river. Tsed here in the sense »»f walttr. 
 
ABRAHAM COWLEY. 27 
 
 Abraham Cowley. 
 
 (b. 1618 ; d. 1667.) 
 
 The limits of this little work embarrass the editor nowhere 
 more than in the treatment of the once famous, but now utterly 
 ne^^lected, Cowley. The great contemporary historian, Claren- 
 don, represents him as " having taken a flight beyond all that 
 went before him." He was buried in state in Westminster 
 Abbey beside Chaucer and Spenser, and considered by his gen- 
 eration to be their equal. That so great a reputation should be 
 so totally eclipsed in a short time, is a singular phenomenou. It 
 must be evident that it was undeserved, and the question arises. 
 How is if to be explained ? Perhaps in the first instance by 
 the poet's remarkable precocity. He published a volume of 
 ''Poetical Blossomes " at fifteen, of the occasional excellence 
 of which our first extract, '' A Wish," will give ample evidence. 
 Secondly, Cowley brought a great and imposing apparatus to 
 the work of writing, and men who looked on poetry as an art^ 
 and not as an inspiration, could hardly believe that so elaborate 
 a scaffolding was not tributary to a worthy edifice. Thirdly, he 
 gratified to the full the taste of the age for ingenious compari- 
 sons and whimsicalities. Our limits forbid special citations in 
 support of this assertion, but the piece entitled ''Hope" gives 
 some idea of Cowley's capabilities in this direction. The fol- 
 lowing estimate, by Dr. Johnson, of Cowley's love poetry will 
 sufficiently explain why none of it also is found among our se- 
 lections : " The compositions ure such as might have been writ- 
 ten for penance by a hermit, or for hire by a philosophical 
 rhymer who had only heard of another sex." Indeed, Cowley 
 owns that their origin was not much more genuine. " Poets," 
 said he, " are scarce thought freemen of the company without 
 paying some duties and obliging themselves to be true to Love." 
 
 A selection from the Odes and one from the Anacreontiques 
 seemed due to their fame and merits. 
 
 A WISH. 
 
 This only grant me, that my means may lie 
 
 Too low for envy, for contempt too high. 
 
 Some honour I would have 
 
 Not from great deeds, but good alone. 
 
 The unknown are better than ill-known ; 
 
 Rumour can ope the grave. 
 
 Acquaintance I would have, but w^hen't depends 
 
 Not on the number, but the choice of friends. 
 
 Books should, not business, entertain the light ; 
 And sleep, as undisturb'd as death, the night.- 
 
28 ABBAHAM COWLEY. 
 
 My house a cottage, more 
 
 Than palace, and should fitting be, 
 
 For all my use not luxury. 
 
 My garden painted o'er 
 
 With nature's hand, not art's ; and pleasures yield 
 
 Horace^ might envy in his Sabine field. 
 
 Thus would I double my life's fading space, 
 
 For he that runs it well, twice runs his race. 
 
 And in this true delight, 
 
 These unbought sports, this happy state, 
 
 I would not fear nor wish my fate, 
 
 But boldly say each night, 
 
 To-morrow let my snn his beams display. 
 
 Or in clouds hide them : I have liv'd to-dav. 
 
 HOPE. 
 
 Hope ! of all ills that men endure. 
 
 The only cheap and universal cure ! 
 
 Thou captive's freedom, and thou sick man's health J 
 
 Thou loser's victory, and thou beggar's wealth ! 
 
 Thou manna which from Heaven we eat, 
 
 To every taste a several meat ! 
 
 Thou strong retreat ! thou sure-entailed estate. 
 
 Which nought has power to alienate ! 
 
 Thou pleasant, honest flatterer ! for none 
 
 Flatter unhappy men, but thou alone ! 
 
 Hope ! thou first fruits of happiness ! 
 
 Thou gentle dawning of a bright success ! 
 
 Thou good preparative, without which our joy 
 
 Does work too strong, and, whilst it cures, destroy I 
 
 Who out of Fortune's reach dost stand, 
 
 And art a blessing still in hand ! 
 
 Whilst thee her earnest-money, we retain, 
 
 We certain are to gain, 
 
 1 The Roman poet. 
 
ABEAHAM COWLEY. 29 
 
 Whether she her bargain break or else fulfil ; 
 Thou only good, not worse for ending ill ! 
 
 Brother of Faith ! 'twixt whom and thee 
 The joys of Heaven and Earth divided be ! 
 Though Faith believe, and have the fixt estate, 
 Thy portion yet m movables is great. 
 Happiness itself's all one 
 In thee, or in possession ! 
 Only the future's thine, the present his ! 
 Thine's the more hard and noble bliss : 
 Best apprehender of our joys ! which hast 
 So long a reach, and yet canst hold so fast ! 
 
 Hope ! thou sad lover's only friend ! 
 
 Thou Way. ^ that mayest dispute it with the End ! 
 
 For love I fear's a fruit that does delight 
 
 The taste itself less than the smell and sight, 
 
 Fruition more deceitful is 
 
 Than thou canst be, when thou dost miss ; 
 
 Men leave thee by obtaining, and straight flee 
 
 Some other way again to thee ; 
 
 And that's a pleasant country without doubt, 
 
 To which all soon return that travel out. 
 
 ON THE DEATH OF THE POET CRASHAW. 
 
 Poet and Saint ! to thee alone are given 
 
 The two most sacred names of earth and Heaven ; 
 
 The hard and rarest union which can be 
 
 Next that of Godhead with humanity. 
 
 Long did the muses banish'd slaves abide. 
 
 And built vain pyramids to mortal pride ; 
 
 Like Moses thou (though spells and charms withstand) 
 
 Hast brought them nobly home back to their Holy Land. 
 
 ^ Usually a means is of slight importance in comparison with the end 
 to be attained. Not so with Hope. It is a Way as good as the End 
 itself. 
 
30 ABRAHAK COWLEY. 
 
 How well, blest swan, did fate contrive thy death ; 
 
 And make thee render up thy tuneful breath 
 
 In thy great mistress'^ arms, thou most divine 
 
 And richest offering of Loretto's^ shrine. 
 
 Angels (they say) brought the famed chapel there,, 
 
 And bore" the sacred load in triumph through the air ; 
 
 'Tis surer much they brought thee there, and they, 
 
 And thou, their charge, went singing all the way.. 
 
 Pardon, my mother church, if I consent 
 
 That angels led him when from thee he went ; 
 
 For even in error sure no danger is 
 
 When join'd with so much piety as his. 
 
 Ah ! mighty God, with shame I speak 't and grief. 
 
 Ah I that our greatest faults were in belief ! 
 
 And our weak reason vrere even weaker yet, 
 
 Rather than thus our wills too strong for it. 
 
 His faith perhaps in some nice^ tenets might 
 
 Be wrong ; his life, I'm sure, was in the right. 
 
 And I myself a Catholic will be, 
 
 So far at least, great saint, to pray to thee. 
 
 STANZAS FROM THE "HYMN TO LIGHT." 
 
 When, goddess, thou lift'st up thy waken 'd head 
 
 Out of the morning's purple bed, 
 
 Thy quire of birds about thee play. 
 
 And all the joyful world salutes the rising day. 
 
 All the world's bravery that delights our eyes 
 
 Is but thy sev'ral liveries ; 
 
 Thou the rich dye on them bestowest, 
 
 Thy nimble pencil paints this landscape as thou goest. 
 
 ' The alhipioii is to the Viririn Mar}'. 
 
 2 Lorctto. an Italian city, owes its fame chiefly to the fact that its chnrch 
 contains the Santa Casa or Holy Honse, once, tradition asserts, the 
 al)ode of onr Lord with his Mother and Josei)h in Nazareth, and snbse- 
 qiientlv carried niiraculonsly, after various wanderings, to its present 
 site, briiiinally plain, it is'now, through the art and devotion of gen-. 
 erations, a ndnicle of beauty and courtliness- 
 
 3 Subtle. 
 
ABRAHAM COAVLEY. 31 
 
 A crimson garment in the rose thou wear'st ; 
 
 A crown of studded gold thou bear'st ; 
 
 The virgin lilies in their white 
 
 Are clad but with the lawn of almost naked light I 
 
 FROM "ANACREONTIQUES." 
 
 The thirsty earth soaks up the rain, 
 And drinks and gapes for drink again. 
 The plants suck in the earth, and are 
 With constant drinking fresh and fair. 
 The sea itself, which one would think 
 Should have but little need of drink, 
 Drinks twice ten thousand rivers up. 
 So filled that they o'erilow the cup. 
 The busy sun (and one would guess 
 By 's fiery drunken face no less) 
 Drinks up the sea, and when he 'as done. 
 The moon and stars drink up the sun. 
 They drink and dance by their own light, 
 They drink and revel all the night. 
 Nothing in nature 's sober found. 
 But an eternal health goes round. 
 Fill up the bowl then, fill it high ; 
 Fill all the glasses there, for why 
 Should every creature drink but I — 
 Why, man of morals, tell me why ?^ 
 
 STANZAS FROM THE '' PINDARIQUE ODE^' TO MR. HOBBES. 
 
 Long did the mighty Stagirite^ retain 
 The universal intellectual reign, 
 
 1 Bacchus usually gets the better poetry, bnt argument and fact do 
 net run so strong!}^ in his favor. Pope, in his conversations with 
 Spence, said of Cowley : '' His death was occasioned by a mean acci- 
 dent whilst his great friend, Dean Sprat, was with him on a visit. They 
 had been together to see a neiirhbor of Cowley's, who, according to the 
 fashion of those times, made them too welcome. They did not set out 
 for their walk home till it was too late, and had drunk so deep that they 
 lay out in the fields all night. This gave Cowley the fever that carried 
 him off. The parish still'talk of the drunken Dean.'' 
 
 1 Aristotle, called the Stagirite from his birth at Stagcira, a Greek 
 town. Cowley believed the philosophy of Hobbes was iii future to rule 
 men'» mind* as that of Aristotle did for centuries. 
 
32 ABRAHAM COWLEY. 
 
 Saw his own country's short-lived leopard^ slain ; 
 
 The stronger Roman eagle did outfly, 
 
 Oftener renewed his age, and saw that die ; 
 
 Mecca itself, in spite of Mahomet possessed,^ 
 
 And chased by a wild deluge from the east, 
 
 His monarchy new planted in the west. 
 
 But as in time each great imperial race 
 
 Degenerates, and gives some new one place, 
 
 So did this noble empire waste, 
 
 Sunk by degrees from glories past, 
 
 And in the schoolmen's^ hands it perished quite at last. 
 
 Then nought but words it grew, 
 
 And those all barbarous too. 
 
 It perished, and it vanished there. 
 
 The life and soul, breath'd out, became but empty air. 
 
 The Baltic, Euxine, and the Caspian, 
 And slender-limbed Mediterranean, 
 Seem narrow creeks to thee, and only fit 
 For the poor wretched fisher-boats of wit.4 
 Thy nobler vessel the vast ocean tries, 
 And nothing sees but seas and skies, 
 Till unknown regions it descries, 
 
 Thou great Columbus of the golden lands of new philoso- 
 phies ! 
 Thy task was harder much than his, 
 For thy learned America is 
 Not only^ found out first by thee, 
 And rudely left to future industry, 
 But thy eloquence and thy wit 
 Has planted, peopled, built, and civilized it. 
 
 J Typifies the Macedonian Empire. See the commentators on Daniel, 
 ch. 7. 
 
 2 The Arabians adopted Aristotle's philosophy. 
 
 3 The learned men of the Middle Ages are so termed. 
 
 4 Intellect. 
 * Merely. 
 
lANGUAUE LESSdNS-GRAMMAR-COMPOSmON. 
 
 A Complete Course in Two Books Only. 
 
 SMDED LESSONS IN ENGLISH. 
 
 144 Pages, 16mo. Bound in Cloth. 
 
 HIGHER LESSONS IN ENGLISH, 
 
 288 Pages, 16mo. Bound in Cloth. 
 
 TWELVE POINTS WHEEEIN WE CLAIM THESE WOEl^S TO EXCEL. 
 
 PZan.— The science of the language is made tributary to the a -t of expression. 
 Every principle is fixed in memory and in practice, by an exhaus\ive drill in com- 
 posing sentences, arranging and rearranging their parts, contract\ng, expanding; 
 pun0tuating, and criticising them. There is thus given a complete course in tec^^^- ; 
 nical grammar and composition^ more thorough and attractive than 'f each subject 
 were treated separately. - 
 
 Grammar and Composition taught together.— "W^ claim thtt grammar 
 j knd composition can be better and more economically taught together than sepa- 
 rately ; tnat each helps the other and furnishes the occasion to teach tiie other ; and 
 that both can be taught together in the time that would be required for either alone. 
 -'A. Complete Course %n Grammar and Composition ^.in only ttvo JBooks, 
 —The two books completely cover the ground of grammar and- composition, from 
 the time the scholar usually begins the study untU it is finished in the High School or 
 Academy. - 
 
 Method.— Hhe author's method in teaching in these books is as follows : (1) The 
 principles are presented inductively in the *' Hints for Oral Instruction." (2) This 
 mstruction is carefully gathered up in brief definitions for the pupil to memorize. 
 (3) A variety of exercises in analysis, parsing, and composition is given, which im- 
 j press the principles on the mind of the scholar and compel him to imderstand them. 
 ■ Author 8--Practical Teachers. —The books were prepared by men who have 
 made a life-work of teaching grammar and composition, and both of them occupy 
 I high positions in their profession. 
 
 Grading.— If Q pains have ibeen spared in grading the books so as to afford the 
 least possible difficulty to the young student. This is very important and coiild, 
 scarcely be accomplished by any who are not practical teachers. 
 
 Definitions,— The definitions, principles, and rules -are stated in the same lan- 
 guage in both books, and cannot be excelled. 
 
 Models for I*ar sing, —The models for parsing are Bimplc, original and worthy 
 of careful attention. 
 
 System of Diagrams .—The system of diagrams, alth ongh it forms no vital part 
 of the works, is the best extant. The advantage of the use of diagrams is : (1) They; 
 present the analysis to the eye. (2) They are stimulating and helpful to the pupil in 
 the preparation of his lessons. (3) They enable the teacher to examine the work of 
 a class in about the time he could examine one pupil, if the oral method alone were 
 used. - : 
 
 Sentences for Analysis,— The sentences for analysis have been selected with 
 ; great care and are of unusual excellence. 
 
 Questions and Reviews. —There is a more thorough system of questions and 
 li-e riews than in any other works of the kind. 
 
 Cheapness.— In introducing these books, there is a great saving of money, as 
 the prices for first introduction, and for subsequent use, are very low. 
 
 CLARK & MATNARD, Publishers, 
 
 734i Broadway, JS", T, 
 
^ 
 
 English Classics, 
 
 f 
 
 CUSSES IN ENGLISH LITERATURE, READING, GRAMMAR, ETC. | 
 
 Edited bt EMimarr English and Ambkican Scholaks* 
 
 EcLch Volume contains a Sketch of the Author" s LifCf Prefatory aind i 
 - Explanatory Notes, etc., etc. 
 
 1 Byron's Prophecy of Dante. (Cantos 
 
 I. and II.) 
 Milton's L' Allegro and II Penseroso. 
 Iiord JBacon's Es says. Civil and 
 
 Moral. tSelecte(t>- - ^: \ 
 Byron's Prisoner of Chilloiv 
 Moore's Fir^-Wo¥telilpper». (Lalla 
 
 Rookh. Selected from Parts L and IL) 
 C^oldsmlth's Deserted Tillage* 
 Scott's M a r m i o n. Selections from 
 
 Canto VI.) 
 Scott's Lay of the Last MlnetreL 
 
 (Introduction and Canto I.) 
 Bums' Cotter's Saturday Nl^btf and 
 
 Other Poemfe, 
 Crabbe's The Village. 
 Campbell's Pleasures of Hope. 
 
 (Abridgment of Part I.) 
 Macaulay's Essay on Bunyon's Pll* 
 
 flfrim's Progress. 
 Macaulay's Armada» and Other 
 
 Poems. 
 
 14 Shakespeare's Merchant of Tenlce. 
 (Selections from Acts I., III. and IV.} 
 
 15 Goldsmith's Traveller. 
 Ot)ierBln 
 
 9 
 8 
 
 4 
 5 
 
 to 
 
 11 
 
 12 
 18 
 
 16 Hogg's Queen's Wake. 
 
 1? Coleridge's Ancient Mariner. 
 
 18 Addison's Sir Boger de Coverley. 
 
 19 Gray's Elegy In a Country Chureh* ' 
 .yard.j' J ■_ _-p' . - - -. ] r " 
 
 «0 Scott's Lady jof the Late.^\(Gantol.) 
 
 21 Shakespeare's As Tou Like It, eteir '^ 
 (Selections.) 
 
 22 Shakespeare's King John and King 
 Richard II. (Selectious.) 
 
 28 ^Shakespeare's KlngHenry IT.^ 
 King Henry T., King Henry TL 
 (Seleettons.) " -^ - 
 
 '24 Shakespeare's Henry Vlll., and 
 Julius Csesar. (Selections ) 
 
 25 Wordsworth's Excursion. (Book I.) 
 
 26 Pope's Essay on Crltlelsm. 
 
 27 Spenser's Faerie Queene. (Cantos L 
 and II.) 
 
 28 Cowper's Task* (BookL) 
 
 29 Milton's Comus. 
 
 80 Tennyson's Enoch Arden. 
 
 81 Irvlng's Sketch Book. (Selecttons.) 
 
 82 Dickens' Christmas Carols (Con> 
 i densed.) 
 
 Preparation. 
 
 t>aradise liost. {Book I.) Containing Sketch of Milton's Juife— Essay on 
 the Genius of Milton— Epitome of the Views of the Best-Known Critics on Milton, 
 and full Explanatory Isotes. Cloth, flexible, 94 pages. 
 
 The Sliakespearc Reader. Being Extracts from the Plays of Shakes- 
 peare, with Introductory Paragraphs and Notes. Grammatical, . Historical and 
 Explanatory. By C, H. Wtkes. 160 pp., 16mo> cloth, flexible. 
 
 The Canterbury Tales— The Prologue of Geoffrey Chancer. The Text 
 Collated with the Seven Oldest MSS., and a Life of the Author. Introductory 
 Notices, Grammar, Critical and Explanatory Notes, and Index to Obsolete and 
 DiflicultVVords* B^ E. F. Willoughbt, M.B.- 112 pp., l6mov cloth, flexible 
 
 An Kssay on Man. By ALEXANDER PoPE. With darkens Grammatical 
 Notes, 72 pp., cloth, flexible. 
 
 Shakespeare's Plays— (School Editions). Merchant op Venice, Jitlitts 
 C^sAR, Kino Lear, Macbeth, Hamlet, Tempest. With Notes, ExammatK^n 
 Papers and Plan of Preparation (Selected). By Brainerd Kellogg, A.M., Pro- 
 fessor of the Endish Language and Literature in the Brooklyn Collegiate and 
 Polytechnic Institute, and author of "A Text-Book on I^hetoric," *' A Text-Book 
 on English Literature/' and one of the authors of Reed & Kelloffg's "Graded Lessons 
 in English," and *' Higher Lessons in English." 33mo, flexible, cloth. 
 
 The text of these plays of Shakespeare has been adapted for use in mixed classes, by the 
 omission of everything that would be considered offensive. The noties have been especially 
 selected to meet the requirements of School and College students, from editions edited by 
 eminent English scholars. We are confident that teachers who examine these editions will 
 pronounce them better adapted to the wants, both of the teacher and student, than any other 
 editions published. Printed from large type, bound in a very attractive cloth binding, and 
 sold at nearly one-half the prlee of other School Editions of Shakespeare. 
 
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