" IJBRARY OF CONGRESS, ' 3 James V. . . 63 Heywood, J. . ^3 Southwell, R. . . . . 64 From " Content and Rich." 68 "The Image of Death." . 69 Contents. From " St. Peter's Complaint." . 70 " Mary Magdalen's Complaint." . 71 "Love's Servile Lot." 71 " Times Go By Turns." 71 " New Prince, New Pomp." 73 "At Home in Heaven." 7Z " Stanzas on the Death of Mary, Queen of Scots." 74 " Life's Death, Love's Life." 74 " Fortune's Reach." 75 " Of the Blessed Sacrament," etc. 7S "The Death of Our Lady.". 75 Prayer. ..... 76 Detached Passages. 76 Lodge, T. . 77 A Solitary Life Commended. 77 Human Miseries. .... 78 Advice to Sons. 78 From " Diana's Epitaph." 79 SHAKiSPEARE. . 80 MassingeR, p. . 82 Constable, H. . . 82 Love's Troubles. , , 83 SpiRLEY, J. , , , . 83 The Garden. . , 84 Death's Final Conquest , . 84 DiGBY, John. . . . , 86 DiGBY, Sir K. .... 87 " Fame, Honor, Beauty," etc. 89 Davenant, Sir W. . 89 Rhodalind Described. 92 Birtha Described. .... 93 Praise, Prayer, and Penitence. 93 Temples of Prayer, etc. 94 Picture of the Ascension. . , 96 Contents. 7 PAGE. Scripture and its Abuse. . • ,96 Books. .... Truth. .... Secret Love Discovered. From " The Christian's Reply to the Philosopher. Epitaph on Mrs. Cross. Song. .... Habington, W. . . , Castara. .... Upon Beauty. From " Cupio Dissolvi." " Non Nobis Domine." "Nox Nocti Indicat Scientiam." The Pomp Without the Spirit of Devo- tion. From "Of True Delight." "To a Tomb." "Laudate Dominum." CocKAiN, Sir A. . . To Plautia. .... Crashaw, R. ... From " Hymn to the Name of Jesus." " Translation of ' Dies Irae.' " . " On a Prayer-Book." " On the Glorious Assumption of the Blessed Virgin." Christ's Victory, From " A song." Temperance, or the Cheap Physician. From " To the Morning." St. Theresa. .... From " On Hope." On Nanus. .... From " Description of a Religious House." From " Epitaph on Mr. Ashton." Contents, Flowers. .... Power of Love. . . The Author's Motto. Sherburne, Sir E. . . . Mary Weeping For Jesus Lost. The Message. .... Good Friday. " And They Laid Him in a Manger." A Sylvan Scene. A Maid in Love With a Youth Blind of One Eye, From Antipater Sidonius. Cassimir. Cupid Dislodged. . The Fountain. Magdalen. Dryden, J. . From " The Hind and the Panther." " Religio Laid." " Absalom and Achitophel." " Mac Flecknoe." " The Medal." "Eleonora." " Ode to the Memory of Miss A. Killigrew. " Epitaph on Miss M. Frampton." " Epitaph on Mrs. Paston." On Milton. .... From " Alexander's Feast," etc. " A Song for St. Cecilia's Day." " Threnodia Augustalis." Verses to the Duchess of York. " Epistle to Sir Godfrey Kneller." " Epistle to the Duchess of York." . " Epistle to Mr. Congreve." A Paraphrase of Chaucer's Character of a Good Priest. PAGE. "5 116 116 117 117 117 119 119 119 120 120 120 121 121 122 127 156 162 165 166 " 171 175 175 176 180 181 182 183 185 186 186 Contents, PAGE. Translation of the Te Deum. IBS " Veni Creator Spiritus " Paraphrased. . 190 Hymn for St. John's Eve, etc. 191 Cleopatra's Voyage. . 192 Attachment to Life. 192 Omens Presaging the Downfall of Egypt. . 192 Detached Passages. 193 Dryden's Sons. . 198 Wycherley, W. . 199 Ward, T. . . 200 Defacement and Spoliation of Churches. 200 Garth, S. . . 201 From " The Dispensary." . 202 " Epilogue to Addison's Cato." 204 Ancient and Modern Manners. . 204 Choice of a Wife. 205 To the Poetaster at Saddler's Hall. . 205 Detached Passages. 205 Pope, A. . . 206 From " Windsor Forest." 210 "The Temple of Fame." . 213 The Messiah. 218 From " The Essay on Criticism." . 221 "The Rape of the Lock." . 227 Eloisa to Abelard. . . 236 " Epistle to Robert, Earl of Oxford." 242 " " Mr. Jervas, the Painter." . 243 " " Miss Blount." . 244 To Mr. J. Moore, etc. . 245 " Elegy on an Unfortunate Lady." 246 Epitaph on Mrs. Corbet. . 248 From " On Two Lovers Killed by Lightning ." 248 Epitaph on Mr. Fenton. . 249 " on Mr. Gay. 249 From " Moral Essays," Epistle L . 249 lo Contents. PAGE. From "Moral Essays," Epistle II. . 254 " « " III . . 259 " " " IV. . 264 " Epistle to Mr. Addison." . . 266 The Essay on Man. . . 267 " Prologue to the Satires," An Epistle to Dr. Arbuthnot. . . 284 " Epilogue to the Satires." . . 293 " The Dunciad." . . .295 " Imitations of Horace." . . 296 " Prologue to Addison's Cato." . 299 Translation of the Emperor Adrian's Address to his Soul. .... 301 The Universal Prayer. . . 301 From Ode on St. CeciHa's Day. . . 303 The dying Christian to his Soul. . . 303 Ode on SoHtude. . - . . . 304 On a Lady Singing to her Lute. . . 305 On a Certain Lady at Court. . . . 305 To Miss M. B. on her Birth-Day. . 306 On his Grotto. .... 306 On a Celebrated Opera-Singer. . . 307 The Balance of Europe. . . . 307 From the French. . . . 307 The Garden of Alcinous. . . . 307 The Companions of Ulysses transformed by Circ^. 308 The Parting of Hector and Andromache. . 309 The Battle of the Gods. . . . 313 Night-Scene, etc., from the Iliad. . . 314 Ulysses recognized by his Old Dog Argus. . 314 Detached Passages. . . . • 315 Hamilton, W. . . . . 318 Self- Love. . , , .318 Impiety. . . , , . 319 SELECTIONS FROM POPE, DRYDEN, AND VARIOUS OTHER BRITISH CATHOLIC POETS WHO PRECEDED THE NINETEENTH CENTURY : WITH BIO- GRAPHICAL AND LITERARY The biographical notices, and many of the critical and other incidental remarks, contained in the following pages, have been compiled from various foreign works,* and are generally presented in the words of their authors. A primary object with the compiler has been, to include much of the best poetry of Pope and Dryden, and, also, numerous select specimens of that of various British Catholic poets who preceded them, and yet flourished subsequently to the reign of MARY. From poems by those of a previous period, as being, to most * Warton's Hist. E. Poets : Ellis's Specimens E. E. Poets : Campbell's Specimens B. Poets : Johnson's Lives E. Poets r Biograph. Britan. : Wood's Athen. Oxon. : Turner's Hist. Anglo- Sax. : Chambers's Cyc. E. Lit. : Knight's E. Cyc. : Chalmers's Biog. Die. : Rose's Biog. Die. : Aldine Ed. var. poets : Separate memoirs : etc. 12 Preliminary Remarks. readers, of inferior interest, the specimens are compara- tively few and brief. In the notices, however, of the poets of that period, will be seen how greatly British literature is indebted to them for its gradual increase and improvement. In their various, as well as numer- ous productions, they have left an ample repositoiy of not only words, but, also, sentiments, images, charac- ters, and incidents, to which the most eminent even of their successors, perhaps, have added much less than is commonly supposed. It will, also, be seen that a con- siderable number of those early writers are said, and that others of them are believed, to have been of the religious order, a class who, both regular and secular, may be thought to have, until a period comparatively late, neglected the cultivation of letters beyond what the performance of their professional duties strictly re- quired. The catalogue of Catholic poets is, possibly, much reduced, in consequence of our not knowing what, if any, religious creed some of the British poets who wrote subsequently to what, in this work, is termed "The English Catholic period," professed, or, perhaps, even appeared to entertain ; so deficient, in that respect, are the accounts of them. In the present compilation, however, certain inferior poets, supposed to have been Catholic, are not noticed. In some of the earlier Selections, the original spell- ing, for the convenience of readers not familiar with it, is partly modernized. , The later and larger portion of the Selections commences with those from Southwell. PART I. POETS OF THE ENGLISH CATHOLIC PERIOD.* The first Anglo-Saxon writer of note, who composed in his own language, and of whom there are any remains, was C-^DMON, a monk of Whitby, who died about 680. He was the author of many poems on the Bible histories, and on miscellaneous subjects. His account of The Fall of Man, somewhat resembles Milton's in " Paradise Lost." t The following is an extract of a version of one of his Satan^s speeches. % " This narrow place is most unlike that other that we formerly knew, high in heaven's kingdom, which my master bestowed upon me, * A period here supposed to extend from the time of the first introduction of Catholicity into Great Britain to that (in 1534) when, in England, the Papal jurisdiction was by law abolished. t The Scriptural paraphrase, in the remains ascribed to him, is presumed by Hickes to be of a date later than his. On this subject, however, and Milton's possible acquaintance with those remains, see Turner's Hist. Anglo-Sax. X Thorpe's Caedmon. 14 Poets of the Catholic Period, though we it, for the All-powerful, may not possess. We must cede our realm ; yet hath he not done rightly, that he hath struck us down to the fiery abyss of the hot hell, bereft us of heaven's kingdom, hath decreed to people it with mankind. That is to me of sorrow the greatest, that Adam, who was wrought of earth, shall possess my strong seat. Oh ! had I the power of my hands 1 But around me lie iron bonds ; I am powerless. Here is a vast fire above and underneath ; the flame abateth not. My feet are bound, my hands manacled." ST. ALDHELM, who died in 709, appears to have excelled all his native predecessors, not only as a composer, but, also, as a singer and reciter of poetry. Of his Anglo-Saxon poems there seem to be no remains. ALFRED, who reigned and flourished in the ninth century, was the author of one of the best Anglo-Saxon Poets of the Catholic Period, 1 5 lyric or miscellaneous poems now extant, a version of the poetry of Boethius. During the seventh and eighth centuries poems in Latin were composed by some of the Anglo-Saxon ecclesiastics, as St. Aldhelm, St. Bede, St. Boniface, Alcuin,* and Cena. We have even a relic by Leob- GiTHA,t an Anglo-Saxon lady. Of the remains of these poems the most pleasing specimen, perhaps, is Alcuin's address to his cell, on his quitting it for the world, an extract of which is subjoined. O mea cella mihi habitatio dulcis amata. Semper in asternum, O mea cella, vale ! Undique te cingit ramis resonantibus arbos, Silvula florigeris semper onusta cornis. Flumina te cingunt florentibus undique ripis, Retia piscator qua sua tendit ovans. Pomiferis redolent ramis tua claustra per hortos, Lilia cum rosulis Candida mixta rubris. Omne genus volucrum matutinas personat odas, Atque creatorem laudat in ore Deum. * This eminent scholar and writer was nobly born, and became a monk at York. Subsequently he found a special patron in Charlemagne, who not only appointed him to institute a school in his own palace and assisted in person at his lessons, but sent him as ambassador to King Offa, consulted him in affairs of state, and usually called him his master. He, at length, permitted him to retire to the monastery of Tours, where he died in 804. t So called by Turner. She seems to have been the Abbess St. Lioba, noticed by Butler, who, he says, " understood Latin, and made some verses in that language." 1 6 Poets of the Catholic Period. [ Translation . ] * " O my loved cell, sweet dwelling of my soul, Must I forever say, ' Dear spot, farewell ! ' Round thee their shades the sounding branches spread, A little wood with flowering honors gay ; The blooming meadows wave their healthful herbs. Which hands experienced cull to serve mankind. By thee, mid flowery banks, the waters glide. Where the glad fishermen their nets extend ; Thy gardens shine with apple-bending boughs. Where the white lilies mingle with the rose ; Their morning hymns the feathered tribes resound. And warble sweet their great Creator's praise." Of the Anglo-Saxon poetry of the English Catholic period, there are various remains by uncertain authors. POETS STYLED, "THE NORMAN POETS OF ENGLAND," WHO, THOUGH THEY WROTE IN FRENCH VERSE, AND WERE NOT ALL NATIVES OF THAT COUNTRY, APPEAR TO HAVE RESIDED THERE. Under this head may be mentioned, as conspicuous, Philippe de Than, author of treatises on subjects of popular science, entitled, Le JBestiare, and Ziber de Creaturis, a work replete with erudition ; Samson de Nanteuil, who translated the Proverbs of Solomon; Thorold, to whom is ascribed the fine romance of * In Turner's Hist. Anglo-Sax. Poets of the Catholic Period, 17 Roland; Geoffroi Gaimar, who, in verses remarkable for their facihty and elegance, composed a History of the Anglo-Saxon Kings ;^ and David, a troveur of eminence, whose works are lost. A writer, however, of much greater celebrity, was their successor, named Maistre Wage, a native of Jersey. In 1 155, he com- posed a poem, entitled, Le Brid d^Angleterre (Brutus of England), the chief hero of which is an imaginary son of ^neas of Troy, who is represented as having founded the State of Britain. The poem itself is a ver- sion of a history of Britain, which Geoffrey of Mon- mouth had previously translated into Latin prose. The following works are, also, ascribed to Wace : History of the two irruptio?is of the Normans into Neiistria and England; Life of William Long-sword ; Romance of Richard ; History of the Dukes of Normatidy ; Com- pendium of the History of the Dukes of Normandy ; Life of St. Nicholas ; Roman du Chevalier au Lio?i ; f Roman du Rou ; and History of the origin of the Feast of the Conception. The number and excellency of his compositions induced Henry II. to bestow on him a canonry. Contemporary with Wace was Benoit, to whom Henry II. confided the task of writing a History of the Dukes of Normandy : He is supposed, also, to have written a History of the wars of Troy. The first of these poems contains about 23,000 verses, and the last, about 20,000. He is much commended for the ac- curacy of his facts, and his various and lively pictures of contemporary manners. * Apparently only part of a larger work, comprehending the whole history of England. t Also ascribed to Chrestien de Troyes. 1 8 Poets of the Catholic Period, GuERNES, an ecclesiastic of Picardy, was the author of a metrical Life of St, Thomas «' Becket^ completed in 1 177, which he says that he had, more than once, publicly read at his tomb in England. Stephen Langton, the celebrated Cardinal and Archbishop, is said to have composed a Canticle on the Passion^ in 123 stanzas, in which the historical details are produced in a manner as interesting as the subject. These poets appear to have flourished in the twelfth century. THE RHYMING CHRONICLERS. Layamon, a priest of Ernleye, the author of a metrical translation of Wace^s JBrut, composed, per- haps, about 1 180, may be regarded as the earliest writer of this class. Next to Layamon's may be noticed a work called Ormuhmty a paraphrase, inverse, of the Gospel histories, by one Orme, or Ormin. Robert of Gloucester, a monk of the abbey of Gloucester, called " The British Ennius," wrote a History of E?igland, which he appears to have com- pleted about 1280. It contains more than 13,000 rhymed couplets. The orations with which he diver- sifies his narrative, are generally appropriate and dramatic, and not only prove his good sense, but exhibit no unfavorable specimen of his eloquence. Poets of the Catholic Period, 1 9 Peter Langtoft, of the monastery of Bridlington, was the author of an entire History of England^ down to the reign of Edward I., which, therefore, could not have been completed before 1272. Though a native of England, he composed it in French verse. Robert Mannyng, a canon of the monastery of Brunne (thence called Robert de Brunne), was a native of Yorkshire. He was received into his order in 1288. In 1303, he began, if not completed, under the name of ^ Ha7idling of Sins^^ a metrical paraphrase of a French treatise on The Decalogue and The Seven deadly Sins. His second work is a metrical Chronicle of Englafid^ partly translated from Wace^s Brut^ and partly from the chronicle, before mentioned, of Lang- toft. He, also, translated into English verse the treatise of St. Bonaventure, De ccena et passione Domini et poenis S. Marice Virginis. Warton conjectures that he composed a version of Chateau dAmotir,^ and Hearne ascribes to him the metrical romance of Richard Cceur de Lion. He was, for the time, an elegant writer, possessing a great command of rhymes. \^In praise of good wonim. Spelling reduced."] [From ''The Handling of Sins."] Nothing is to man so dear As woman's love in good manner. A good woman is man's-bliss. Where her love right and steadfast is. * Designed to be stmg to the harp, at pihlic entertainments, t A figurative title of The Blessed Virgin. 20 Poets of the Catholic Period, There is no solace under heaven, Of all that a man may neven/ That should a man so much glew^ As a good woman that loveth true. Ne dearer is none in God's hurd/ Than a chaste woman with lovely wurd. METRICAL ROMANCES. The era of the earlier English Metrical Romances is supposed to have been the reign of Edward II. (1307-27.)* Sir Guy, The Squire of Low Degree, The King of Tars, Sir Degoj'e, Ipomedon, King Robert of Sicily, and La Mort Arthur, are the names of some of them. Others, possibly of a later date, are entitled. Sir Thopas, Sir Lsenbras, Gawan and Gologras, and Sir Bevis. Their authors, a single instance excepted, appear to be uncertain. This class of poems probably were all of a serious, and, more or less, of a religiously chivalric character. " It is reasonable to suppose," says Warton, " that many of our ancient tales in verse, containing fictitious narratives, were written, although not invented, in religious houses. The romantic history of Guy, Earl of Warwick, is expressly said to have been written by Walter of Exeter, a Franciscan friar, about 1292. * One only can be assigned with certainty to the 13th century, unless Thomas the Rhymer, who died shortly before 1299, was the author oiSir Tristrem. ' Know. ■' Delight. =" Family. Poets of the Catholic Period, 21 We may fairly conclude that the monks often wrote for the Minstrels," whom they " were fond of admitting to their festivals." These " Minstrels " were an order of men in the middle ages, who subsisted by the arts of poetry and music, and sang to the harp verses com- posed by themselves, or others. The Welsh monas- teries in general were the great repositories of the poetry of the British bards. The following specimen from The Squire of Low Degree is curious, as noticing some of the diversions of the fair sex in those ages, and partially indicating the state of the arts. [Spelling partly changed.'] To-morrow ye shall on hunting fare, And ride, my daughter, in a chare : * It shall be covered with velvet red. And clothes of fine gold all about your head, With damask, white, and azure-blue, Well diapered with lilies new. Homeward thus shall ye ride, ^ On hawking by the river's side. When you come home your men among, Ye shall have revel, dances and song ; Little children, great and small. Shall sing as doth the nightingale. Then shall ye go to your even-song ' With tejtours and trebles among j Your censors shall be of gold, ^ Chariot. * Vespers. 22 Poets of the Catholic Period, Indent with azure, many a fold. Your choir nor organ-song shall want, With cotmter-noiQ and descant. Then shall ye go to your suppdre And sit in tents in green arb^re. An hundred knights, truly told. Shall // Grca\ * Found in Urry's edition of Chaucer, to whose Troihis and Cresseide it is a sequel. t Security. 3 50 Poets of the Catholic Period. William Dunbar, "A poet," says Sir V/alter Scott, " unrivaled by a7iy that Scotland has prodiiced^^ was born about 1465. Having taken the degree of A. M., at St. Andrew's, he seems to have traveled in the quality of a preaching Franciscan novice.^ It is sup- posed that he was employed by James IV., in connec- tion with various foreign embassies. In 1500, he re- ceived from that king a pension, and for some years subsequent to 1503, appears to have resided at court. He is said to have died either in, or about 1520, or 1530. " In pieces of a didactic order," says Ellis,^ " he is confessedly superior to alP who preceded, and to nearly all w^ho have followed him : but his satires, his allegori- cal and descriptive poetry, and his tales, are all admi- rable, and full of fancy and originality." His chief allegorical poems are, The Thistle and the Rose, The Golden Terge, and The Dance, or Procession of the Seven Deadly Sins. [From " The Golden Terge."] [A vernal morning.] Full angel-like thir* birdis' sang their hours,' Within their curtains green, Vv'ithin their bowers. Appareled with white and red, with bloomys sweet j Enammeled was the field with all colours, The pearlit drops shook, as in silver showers, ^ Friar, according to another account. ^ Specimens of E. E. Poets. ■* The Scottish poets. ^ These, or Those. ® The spelling in these specimens appears to have been partly modern- ized. ' Matins. Poets of the Catholic Period, 51 While all in balm did branch and leavis fleit/ Depart fra ^ Phoebus did Aurora greit ; ^^ Her chrystal tears I saw hing on the flowers, Which he, for love, all drank up with his heat. \From ''''Meditation written in winter. ^^^ I am assayed on every side. Despair says aye, " In time provide, And get something whereon to leif : " Or, with great trouble and mischief, Thou shall into this court abide.'' And then says Age, " My friend, come near, And be not strange I thee requeir ; Come, brother, by the hand me take. Remember, thou has 'compt to make Of all the time thou spendit here." Syne Deid ^^ casts up his gatis wide. Saying, " Thir '^ open shall thee 'bide : Albeit that thou were ne'er so stout, Under this lintel shall thou lout : '^ There is nane other way beside." \Froin " The Merle ^^ and the Nightingale?^ In May, as that Aurora did upspring, With crystal een chasing the cluddes ^'^ sable, I heard a Merle with merry notis sing A sang of love, with voice right comfortable, ^ Float. ^ Departed from. " Weep. " Live. " Death. " These. " Stoop. ^^ Blackbird. ^« Clouds. 52 Poets of the Catholic Period, Again' the orient beami's amiable, Upon a blissful branch of laurel green ; This was her sentence, sweet and delectable, " A lusty " life in Lovis '^ service been." '^ Under this branch, ran down a river bright Of balmy liquor, crystalline of hue. Again' the heavenly azure skyis light. Where did upon the tother side pursue A Nightingale with sugared notis new, Whose angel-feathers as the peacock shone : This was her song, and of a sentence true, " All love is lost but upon God alone." [This discussion of the comparative merits of earthly and spiritual affections, is continued through about a dozen stanzas^ Then said the Merle, " mine error I confess ; This frustis *° love is all but vanity, Blind ignorance me gave sic hardiness. To argue so again' the verity. Wherefore, I counsel every man that he With love not in the feindis net be tone,* But love the love that did for his love die. All love is lost but upon God alone." \Fro7n " No Treasure without Gladness y^^ Be merry, man ! and take not far in mind The wavering of this wretchit world of sorrow ; To God be humble, and to thy friend be kind, " Pleasant. '^ Love's. '" Is. '° Vain. * Taken. Poets of the Catholic Period. c^^ And with thy neighbours gladly lend and borrow ; His chance to-night, it may be thine to-morrow. Be blithe in heart for any aventure ; For oft withwysure^' it has been said aforrow," Without gladness availis no treasure. Though all the werk " that ever had livand wight Were only thine, no more thy part does fall, But meat, drink, clais,^* and of the laif " a sight: Yet to the Judge thou shall give 'compt of all. Ane reckoning right comes of ane ragment "^ small. Be just, and joyous, and do none injure, And truth shall make thee stro}ig as any wall. Without gladness availis no treasure. A specimen of his graphic and spirited Procession of the Seven deadly Sins would here be given, were its Scottish, antiquated style to most readers much more intelligible. Gawin or Gavin Douglas, bishop of Dunkeld in Scotland, and son of Archibald, the great Earl of An- gus, was born in 1474. The Earl of Angus, his nephew, married the queen-mother. After occupying a promi- nent place in the history of his country, he was com- pelled, by the persecution of the Duke of Albany, to seek for protection in England, vdiere, in 1522, he died of the plague. He excels as an allegorical and a descriptive poet. His chief original composition is The Palace of Honour, to which The Pilgrim'' s Progress " bears so strong a i-esem^ "^^ Wisdom. " Afore. "^"^ Possessions. ** Clothes. " Re mainder. "^^ Accompt. 54 Poets of the Catholic Period. blaiice, that Bunyaii could scarcely have beoi ignorant of ity * His only other long original poem is King Ha7't. His most remarkable production is a Trafis- lation of VirgiVs ^neid into Scottish verse, which he completed in eighteen months, at a time when no met- rical version of a classic, except Boethius, had appeared in English. The work is executed with equal spirit and fidelity, and is farther recommended by many beau- tiful specimens of original poetry, which, under the name of prologues, are prefixed to each of the thirteen books. His writings, however, too much abound with obsolete words, ever to regain their popularity. \Frord a description of May.X\ And lusty Flora did her bloomes sprede Under the feet of Phebus' sulyeart ' steed : The swardit ^ soil, enbrode ^ with selcouth " hues. Wood and forest obumbrate ^ with the bews,*' Whais ' blissful branches, portray'd on the ground With shadows sheen, shew rochis ^ rubicund, Towers, turrets, kirnals,^ and pinnacles high Of kirkis,^" castles, and ilk fair citj' : Stood paijitit every fane, phioU" and stage. Upon the plain ground by their own umbrage. The daisy did un-braid her crownel smale, And every flower un-lappit ^"^ in the dale. Sere dowjiis small on dentilion '^ sprang, ' Sultry. ^ Turfed. ^ Embroidered. ^ Uncommon. ^ Shade. ^ Boughs. "^ Whose. ' Rocks. '' Battlements. " Churches. " Cupola. " Unfolded. " Dandelion. * Chambers's Cyc. E. Lit. t In Ellis's Specimens. The spelling is perhaps somewhat modernized. Poets of the Catholic Period, 55 The young, green, bloomit, strawberry leaves amang; Gimp ^'^ gilliflowers their own leaves un-schet,^' Fresh primrose and the pourpour violet. Lawrence Wade, a Benedictine monk of Canter- bury, in 1497, translated into English verse the Life of Thomas a Becket, written, about 1180, in Latin. Benedict Burgh, archdeacon of Colchester, about 1480, translated in the "royal stanza," the work called Cato's Morals. William Caxton, the celebrated printer, besides his rhyming Introductions a7id Epilogues^ is supposed to have written a poem of considerable length, entitled The Werk of Sapience, which, however, Ritson thinks is more justly to be ascribed to Lydgate. He died in 149 1. Robert Fabian, who died about 15 12, is classed as a poet, in consequence of the metrical prologues prefix- ed to his Chronicle. Henry Bradshaw, a monk of the Benedictine monastery of St. Werberg, composed in stanzas, before 1500, a Life of his Patroness- Saint. His descriptions are often happy, and there is a tone of moral purity and rational piety in his thoughts, enriched by legendary lore, that renders many passages of his poem extremely interesting. The following specimen is from the de- scription of the feast made by King Ulper, when his daughter, St. Wej-berg, took the veil. " Pretty. " Unshut. 56 Poets of the Catholic Period. The tables were covered with clothes of dyaper, Rychely enlarged with silver and with golde, The cupborde, with plate, shyngyng fayre and clere ; Marshalles theyr offyces fulfylled manyfolde : Of myghty wyne plenty, both newe and olde, All maner kynde of meetes delicate. Whan grace was sayd, to them was prdparate. Stephen Hawes is supposed to have flourished about 1500. He was educated at Oxford, traveled in various countries, and became a complete master of French and Italian poetry. Before 1509, he had been groom of the chamber in the household of Henry VII. The time of his death is not known. He is said to have publicly confuted a Lollard. He was the author of The Pastime of Pleasure, finished in 1505-6, which Southey calls the best poem of his century, and of other poems. The Temple of Glass is supposed to have been written by either him or Lydgate. That he was superior to some of his immediate predecessors in harmonious versification, appears from the following and various other passages. \Fro7n " The Pastime of Pleasurer'\ Besydes this gyaunt, upon every tree I did see hanging many a goodly shielde, Of noble knygtes, that were of his degree, Which he had slayne and murdred in the fielde. From farre this gyaunt I ryght well behelde, And towarde hym as I rode on my way, On his first heade I saw a banner gay. Poets of the Catholic Period. 57 John Skelton was born probably about 1461. He was laureated at Oxford, called by Erasmus " The light and ornament of English scholars," at the ac- cession of Henry VIII., whose tutor he had been, was created " Orator Royal," and, in 1499, was ordained priest. At length, however, his turbulent, irregular, and, in one respect, at least, highly criminal course, was such, that the bishop of Norwich is said to have severely censured, if not suspended, him. At one time, the humble client of Cardinal Woolsey, he subsequently assailed him in verses remarkable only for their vul- garity and virulence. Having fled to the Sanctuary at Westminster, he was there received and protected till he died in 1529. He v/as interred in consecrated ground, and must, therefore, before his death, have, at least, professed repentance and promised amendment. His serious poems, as the elegy on the death of the Earl of Northumberland, the Prayers to the Trmity, etc., are those only, occasional passages in the others excepted, which, of all he wrote, a person of delicate taste in regard to either sentiment or expression, might possibly care to read. His attacks on the Cardinal and mendicant friars, may have disposed cer- tain Protestant writers to treat his productions and their author with undue lenity. He seems, however, to have Vv^anted neither genius nor learning. In the preceding pages are noticed, perhaps, the principal British Catholic poets of those accounts of whom have reached us,* and who flourished within * Superior to some of these may be considered the authors of some of the remains, the names of whom, at least as such, are unknown, 3* 58 Poets of the Catholic Period, what, in this work is termed, " The English CathoUc period." They, and the others so noticed, are all presumed to have professed the ancient, national faith, inasmuch as none of them are said to have abandoned it, most of them died before " The Reformation " began, and the few who did not, are not known to have favor- ed its views, and either died, or seem to have flourished, at too early a period, to have lived to witness their introduction, unless perhaps to a very limited extent, into their respective countries. Indeed it may be doubted if, in England, Henry VIII., before his mar- riage with Anne Boleyn, in 1533, tolerated any promul- gator, or even advocate of its principles ; and if, in Scotland, they found a convert before 1527.* It was not till 1560, that the Papal jurisdiction, in that king- dom, and, till 1534, in England, was by law abolished.! Numerous poems by uncertain British authors,* * About which time they were first introduced, by Patrick Hamilton, from Germany. t Luther began to preach against certain reputed abuses in 15 1 7, but did not openly separate from the Church till 1520. The only known dates, subsequent to 15 17, of the deaths of any of these poets, are Douglas's, 1522, Dunbar's, either in or about 1520, or 1530, and Skelton's, 1529. Of those noticed subsequently to Burgh, who wrote as early as about i48o,§ the only one, the date of whose death is not known, is Hawes. He, however, is supposed to have flourished as early as about 1500. It is to be considered that Douglas is known, and Dunbar is said to have been of the religious order, and the interment of Skelton's remains in consecrated ground, proves that he was believed to have, in faith, at least, died a Catholic. ^ Unless, as Hearne supposes, one R. Sheale composed " Chevy Chase." § The time of his death is not known. Poets of the Catholic Period. 59 besides the Anglo-Saxon remains and the early Metrical Romances, before noticed, are referable to the " English Catholic period," to which class appear to pertain two of no little repute. Chevy Chase, and The Nut-brown Maid. The number of itinerant and other professional re- citers and singers of poetry in the middle, if not even later, ages, who, before books were common, in some measure, supplied the want of them, considered, it would seem as if much, if not, indeed, most of the pop- ular British Catholic poetry of those times may have perished, as well as the names of many of its authors. At least, the present remains of it could' not possibly have satisfied the call for it, especially for that portion termed " Metrical Romances," which appear to have been composed chiefly for the above-mentioned per- formers. With the confiscation and plunder, in the reign of Henry VIII,^ of the two great repositories of both manuscript and printed works, the monasteries and colleges, probably disappeared most of their literaiy treasures, portions of which are said to have been even used as fuel. "Whole libraries," says Cobbett,^ " were scattered abroad, when they had robbed the covers of their rich ornaments. ^^ ^ And perhaps subsequently. ^ Hist. Reform. 6. " These men," says Chamberlain (Present State of Eng.), '* under pretence of rooting out popery, super- stition and idolatry, utterly destroyed these two noble libraries [of the University of Oxford] and embezzled, sold, burnt, or tore in pieces all those valuable books, which those great patrons of learning had been so diligent in procuring in every coimtry of Europe.'''' A few books were accidentally rescued from the grocers. " Whole ship-loads of manuscripts were sent as waste paper to foreign countries." White's Hist of G. Brit, &c. PART II. CATHOLIC POETS OF THE SECOND PERIOD* SIR THOMAS MORE, the celebrated chancellor of Henry VIII, was born in 1430, and, in consequence of his disapproval of the divorce of that tyrant from his lawful wife, was, in 1535, executed. He was the author of a few small poems of considerable merit, one of which, it is supposed, may have suggested to Cowper the idea of his yohii Gilpin. [Fortune desa-ibed.'] Then, as a bait, she bringeth forth her ware, Silver and gold, rich pearl and precious stone, On which the masedf people gaze and stare, And gape therefor, as dogs do for the bone. Fast by her side, doth weary labor stand, Pale fear, also, and sorrow all bewept ; Disdain and hatred, on that other hand. Eke restless watch, from sleep with travail kept . Before her standeth danger and envj^, Flattery, deceit, mischief, and tyrann}'. * Those who were both born m, and survived, *' The English Catholic period," and those who were born after that period, and died before the commencement of the nineteenth century. t Amazed, Hey wood, Bellenden. 6 1 JOHN HEYWOOD, styled " The epigrammatist," seems, at one time, to have been much admired by Heniy VIII. According to Warton, however, he was " inflex- ibly attached to the Catholic cause," and, on the death of Queen Mar}^, left the kingdom. He composed various Interludes^ or brief dramatic pieces j a long poem, called. The Spider and The Fly ; a comic Tale^ into which are interwoven all the proverbs of the Eng- lish language ; and six hundred Epigrams^ interspersed with small Tales and Fables. He died, about 1565, at Mechlin.^. His son, as will subsequently appear, became a distinguished Jesuit. JOHN BELLENDEN, was a native of Scotland. In his youth he served in the court, and was in great favor with James V. He was made canon of Ross, arch-deacon of Murray, took the degree of D. D. of the Sorbonne, and held the office of ' Clerk of Accounts,' or chief officer of the treasury. In the next reign he was a Lord of the Session. He, at length retired to Rome, where he died in 1550. He is described as, not only " A man of great parts, and one of the finest poets " which his country has produced, but " as a a. The principal English poet of the reign of Henry VIII, per- haps, was the celebrated Earl of Surrey, born in 1520, and be- headed in 1 547. It would seem as if, in his last hours, he must, in de- sire at least, have returned to the Church, and not then adhered to a sect who acknowledged his royal persecutor and murderer as their spiritual head ; especially as, though he had supported him in his claim on the Supremacy, on all the other points, says Lingard, he was a zealous patron of the ancient doctrines. What spiritual aid, if any, he received at the close of his life, does not appear. 62 Mary, master of every branch of divine and human learning." His principal work is a translation of the History of Hector Boece from the Latin. Some of his poems are said to have been lost. Those found in his history are entitled, The Proheme of the Cosmography, and The Proheme of the History, both of remarkable merit. Of the former the following is a specimen. [virtue speaks.] \_SpeUing slightly changed.'] My realm is set among my fois all, Quhilkis ^ hes with me ane war continewal, And evir still dois on my border ly ; And, though they may no wayis me ourthral, They ly in wait, if any chance may fall, Of me sum time to get the victory. Thus is my life ane ithand ^ chevalry : Labor me holdis Strang as ony wall. And nothing brekis me but slugardy.* MARY, QUEEN OF SCOTS. This unfortunate Queen, of whom it has been said, no one ever beheld ' Who. 2 Busy. * ALEXANDER BARCLAY, a Benedictine monk, and author of The Castle of Labor, The Ship of Fools, and other poems, would be noticed, as a Catholic poet, but for his apparently having joined, and, till he died, in 1552, adhered to the party who denied the Papal supremacy. The above-named poems, however, were written long before his supposed defection. He was one of the principal British poets of his time- Heywood, d^, her person without admiration and love, or will read her history without sorrow, was born in 1542, and, on pretences which probably few writers, at this time, will venture to justify, was executed in 1588.^ She did not understand English, but composed verses in Latin and, with great facility, in French, of a pathetic passage in which the following sonnet is a translation. " Alas ! what am I, and in what estate ? A wretched corse, bereaved of its heart ; An empty shadow, lost, unfortunate. To die is now in life my only part. Foes to my greatness, let your envy rest ! In me no taste for grandeur now is found, Consum'd by grief, with heavy ills oppress'd, Your wishes and desires will soon be crown'd. And you, my friends, who still have held me dear. Bethink you that when health and heart are fled, And every hope of future good is dead, 'Tis time to wish our sorrows ended here j And that this punishment on earth is given, That my pure soul may rise to endless bliss in heaven." JASPER HEYWOOD, the son of John Heywood, before noticed, was born in London and educated at Oxford. In 1558 he was recommended by Cardinal * Her accomplished father, JAMES V, who was born in 15 12 and died in 1542, is said to have been the author of two poems of a ludicrous cast, The Gaberlunzieman, and The Jolly Beggar, and, perhaps, others. He was a great patron of letters. 64 Southwell, Pole, as a scholar, a disputant, and a Catholic, to be put in nomination for a fellowship of Trinity College, and, the same year, was appointed to one in All Souls. In 1562 he became a Jesuit at Rome. He afterwards, for seventeen years, held the theological chair at Dilling in Switzerland, and was so much distinguished as to have been promoted to the honor of D. D. and the "four vows." Having returned to England as a missionary, he was, for some time, imprisoned. At length he re- tired to Naples, where he died in 1597. He had the reputation of being an admirable Hebrew scholar. He translated, into English verse, the Hercules Furens, T/iyestes, and Troas, of Seneca. Several of his poems are found in the Paradise of Daintie Devices, 1573. ROBERT SOUTHWELL. Robert Southwell was born at Horsham St. Faith's, about 1562. His father, a gentleman of opu- lence, married a lady of the court, who, according to More, had been Queen Elizabeth's instructress in Latin. Having studied at Paris and Douay, he was sent to Rome, where, in 1578, before he had completed his seventeenth year, he became a member of the Society of Jesus. In 1584, he was ordained priest. In 1586, notwithstanding a law which threatened all members of his profession found in England with deaths he re- turned thither as a missionary, and was appointed chaplain and confessor to the Countess of Arundel. In 1592 he was betrayed into the hands of his enemies, Southwell, ^Cj and committed to a dungeon in the Tower so filthy and noisome, that, when hberated for examination, his clothes were covered with vermin. After an imprison- ment of three years with ten inflictions of the rack, he petitioned that either he might be brought to trial, or, at least, that his friends might be permitted to visit him. Cecil * is said to have replied to the effect, that, " if he was in so much haste to be hanged, he should have his desire." Be that as it may, on the 21st of February, 1594-5, he was placed at the bar. He pleaded not guilty to the charge of treason, but admitted that he was a priest, and had returned simply to administer the sacraments to those of his religion who might desire them, and perform the ordinary duties of a Catholic clergyman. A verdict of guilty, necessarily in accord- ance with the statute, was returned. At daybreak of the 2 2d, the jailer apprised him that he was to die that morning. Southwell embraced him and said, " You could not bring me more joyful tidings." Having arrived at the place of execution, and addressed the multitude, who by their silence and decorum, testified their admira- tion of the martyr, he prepared for his approaching end. At length the car was removed from under his feet. Even while suspended, he continued to beat his breast and make the sign of the cross. His behavior * " As to his fortitude we have the [subjoined] admiring testi- mony of Cecil : ' Let antiquity bogst of its Roman heroes and the patience of captives in torments. There is one Southwell, a Jesuit, who, thirteen times most cruelly tortured, cannot be induced to confess anything, not even the color of the horse, whereon, on a certain day, he rode, lest from such indication, his adversaries might conjecture in what house, or in company of what Catholics, he that day was.' Moore." TiirnbulVs Southwell. 66 Southwell. had such an effect on the spectators, that when, in terms of his sentence, the executioner wished to cut him down alive,* neither they nor the magistrate who superintended the judicial murder, w^ould permit him so to do. His body was emboweled and quartered. In the course of his speech he said, " As regards the Queen [Elizabeth], to whom I have neither done nor wished any evil, I have daily prayed for her, and now, with all my heart, do pray, that He [God] may grant that she may use the ample gifts wherewith He has endowed her, to the glory of His name. I deliver my soul into the hands of my Creator. For what may be done to my body I have no care. I die because I am a Catholic priest, elected into the Society of Jesus in my youth ; nor has any other things during the last three years in which I have been imprisoned, been charged against me.^^ The fortitude with which he endured the tortures of the rack, was, perhaps, even more admirable than that with which he met death. While subjected to them, he maintained an inflexible silence, and his tormentors affirmed that he resembled a post rather than a man. It is said that after death his countenance exhibited no change, neither did the halter leave its ordinary marks of discoloration ; that, when his body was partitioned, his heart leaped from the dissector's hand, and, by its throbbing, seemed to repel the flames, as if expressing with the Psalmist, " My heart shall exult in the living God." One of his * The ancient sentence, under which he was executed, required that he " should be hanged, but taken down alive, and then that his bowels should be taken out and burned before his face." Penn. Cyc. Southwell, 67 sisters is supposed to have wrought, with some of his rehcs, several cures on persons afflicted with diseases, which had baffled the skill of the physicians. The following account of the sufferings of the im- prisoned Catholic priests, occurs in one of his letters. " What was given them to eat, was so little in quantity, and withal so filthy and nauseous, that the very sight of it was enough to turn their stomachs. The labors to which they obliged them were continual and im- moderate, and no less in sickness than in health; for with hard blows and stripes, they forced them to accom- plish their tasks, how weak soever they were. Some are there hung up whole days by the hands, in such a manner that they can but just touch the ground with the tips of their toes. This purgatory we are looking for every hour, in which the executioners exercise all kinds of torments. But come what pleaseth God, we hope we shall be able to bear all in Him that strengthens us." The copies of his works a few years since known to exist, were the remnant of at least tiventy-four editions. A reprint of his poems has recently ap- peared. Says Sir Edgerton Brydges, " A deep moral pathos, illumined by fei*vent piety, marked everything that Southwell wrote. There is something singularly simple, chaste, eloquent, and fluent in his diction, on all occasions." \From his piece ejititled^ " The author to his loving cotisiji.^''] "Poets, by abusing their talents, and making the follies and feignings of love the customary subject of 68 Southwell, their base endeavors, have so discredited this faculty, that a poet, a lover, and a liar, are by many reckoned but three words of one signification. The devil, as he affecteth deity and seeketh to have all the compliments of divine honor applied to his service, so hath he, among the rest, possessed also most poets v/ith idle fancies. And, because the best course to let them see the error of their works, is to weave a new web in their own loom, I have here laid a few coarse threads together, to invite some skillfuller wits to go forward in the same, or to begin some finer piece, wherein it may be seen how well verse and virtue suit together. With many good wishes I send you these few ditties." \From " Content and Rkh.^^^ I dwell in Grace's court, Enriched with virtue's rights ; Faith guides my wit. Love leads my will, Hope all my mind delights. My conscience is my crown. Contented thoughts my rest ; My heaf t is happy in itself. My bliss is in my breast. My wishes are but few, All easy to fulfil ; I make the limits of my power The bounds unto my will. I feel no care of coin. Well-doing is my wealth ; My mind to me an empire is, While grace affordeth health. Southwell, 6g Spare diet is my fare, My clothes more fit than fine ; I know I feed and clothe a foe That pampered would repine. To rise by others' fall, I deem a losing gain ; All states with others' ruins built To ruin run amain. [From " T/ie Image of Death:'] I often look upon a face Most ugly, grisly, bare and thin ; I often view the hollow place Where eyes and nose had sometime been ; I see the bones across that lie ; Yet little think that I must die. I read the label underneath. That telleth me whereto I must ; I see the sentence, eke, that saith. Remember, man, thou art but dust : But yet, alas ! but seldom I Do think, indeed, that I must die. Continually, at my bed's head, A hearse doth ha7ig, which doth me tell That I, ere morning, may be dead. Though now I feel myself full well. But yet, alas ! for all this I Have little mind that I must die. 70 Southwell If none can 'scape death's dreadful dart, If rich and poor his beck obey, If strong, if wise, if all, do smart. Then I to 'scape shall have no way : Oh grant me grace, O God ! that I My life may mend, since I must die. {From ''St. Peter's ComJ>lai?tt:'] When, traitor to the Son, in Mother's eyes I shall present my humble suit for grace, What blush can paint the shame that will arise, Or write my inward feelings on my face ? Might she the sorrow with the sinner see. Though I'm despised, my grief might pitied be. sister nymphs ! * the sweet renowned pair. That bless Bethania bounds with your abode ; Shall I infect that sanctified air. Or stain those steps where Jesus breathed and trod ? No, let your prayers perfume that sweetened place ; Turn me, with tygers, to the wildest chace. Could I revived Lazarus behold. The third of that sweet t?'mity of saints, Would not astonished dread my senses hold ? Ah yes ! my heart even with his naming faints : 1 seem to see a messenger from hell, That my prepared torments comes to tell. With mildness, Jesu, measure mine offence, Let true remorse thy due revenge abate, * Mary and Martha. Southwell, 7 1 Let tears appease, when trespass doth increase, Let pity temper thy deserved hate, Let grace forgive, let love forget my fall ! With fear I crave, with hope I humbly call. \FrG7fi ^^ Mary AfagdalerCs Complaint at Chris fs Death:'] O true life ! sith * Thou hast left me, Mortal life is tedious ; Death it is to live without Thee, Death of all most odious. Turn again, or take me to Thee, Let me die, or live Thou in me ! O my soul ! that did unloose thee From thy sv/eet captivity, God, not I, did still possess thee. His, not mine, thy liberty : Oh ! too happy thrall thou wert. When thy prison was His heart. \Fro77t ^^ Love's servile Lot"'] She shroudeth vice in virtue's veil, Pretending good in ill j She offereth joy, affordeth grief, A kiss where she doth kill. A honey-shower rains from her lips, Sweet lights shine in her face ; She hath the blush of virgin's mind, The mind of viper's race. * Since. 72 Southwell She makes thee seek, yet fear to find, To find, but not enjoy ; In many firowns some gHding smiles She yields, to more annoy. She letteth fall some luring baits For fools to gather up ; To sweet, to sour, to every taste. She tempereth her cup. With soothed words enthralled souls She chains in servile bands ; Her eye in silence hath a speech Which eye best understands. Her little sweet hath many sours. Short hap immortal harms ; Her loving looks are murdering darts, Her songs bewitching charms. Her diet is of such delights As please till they be past ; But then the poison kills the heart That did entice the taste. Plough not the seas, sow not the sands, Leave off your idle pain ; Seek other mistress for your minds : Love's service is in vain. \From " Times go by turns "'\ Not always fall of leaf, nor ever spring. Not endless night, nor yet eternal day ; Southwell. 73 The saddest birds a season find to sing, The roughest storm a calm may soon allay. Thus, with succeeding turns, God tempereth all, That man may hope to rise, yet fear to fall. \From " Neiv Prince^ tiew Pomp.^^^ Weigh not his crib, his wooden dish, Nor beasts that by Him feed j Weigh not his mother's poor attire, Nor Joseph's simple weed. This stable is a Prince's court, The crib his chair of state j The beasts are parcel of his pomp, The wooden dish his plate. The persons in that poor attire His royal liveries wear ; The Prince Himself is come from heaven ; This pomp is praised there. \From " At Home in ffeaveny] Fair soul ! how long shall veils thy graces shroud ? How long shall this exile withold thy right } When will thy sun disperse his mortal cloud. And give thy glories scope to blaze their light .'* Oh that a star, more fit for angels' eyes. Should pine on earth, not shine above the skies ! Thy ghostly * beauty offered force to God ; It chained Him in links of tender love ; * Spiritual. 74 Southwell, It won his will with man to make abode ; It stayed his sword, and did his wrath remove ; It made the vigour of his justice yield, And crowned Mercy empress of the field. This lulled our heavenly Samson fast asleep. And laid Him in our feeble nature's lap ; This made Him under mortal load to creep. And in our flesh His Godhead to enwrap ; This made Him sojourn with us in exile, And not disdain our titles in His style. [From ^^ Stanzas on the death of Mary, Queen of Scots. ^^'\ Some things more perfect are in their decay, Like spark that going out gives clearest light ; Such was my hap, whose doleful dying-day Began my joy, and termed Fortune's spite. Alive a Queen, now dead I am a Saint ; Once Mary called, my name now Martyr is ; From earthly reign debarred by restraint. In lieu whereof I reign in heavenly bliss. Rue not my death, rejoice at my repose ; It was no death to me, but to my woe : The bud was opeJied to let out the rose; The chains unloosed to let the captive go. {From '■'■ Life's Death, Love's Life"'] Life out of earth hath no abode, In earth love hath no place ; Love settled hath her joys in heaven, In earth life all her grace. Southwell, 75 Mourn, therefore, no true lover's death, Life only him annoys j And when he taketh leave of life. Then love begins his joys. • \From *^ For timers Reachy\ To beauty's fading bliss I am no thrall ; I bury not my thoughts in metal mines ; I aim not at such fame as feareth fall ; I seek and find a light that ever shines. Whose glorious beams display such heavenly sights, As yield my soul the sum of all delights. \From " Of the Blessed Sacrament of the Altar. ^^^ To ravish eyes, here heavenly beauties are ; To win the ear, sweet music's sweetest sound ; To lure the taste, the angels' heavenly fare ; To soothe the scent, divine perfumes abound. Here, to delight the will, true wisdom is \ To woo the will, of every good the choice ; For memory a mirror showing bliss ; Here all that can both sense and soul rejoice. The God of hosts in slender host doth dwell, Yea, God and man with all to either due ; That God that rules the heavens and rifled hell. That man whose death did us to life renew. {From " The Death of Our Zady."] Weep, living things ! of life the mother dies ; 76 Southwell. The world doth lose the sum of all her bliss, The queen of earth, the empress of the skies ; By Mary's death mankind an orphan is. Let nature weep, yea, let all graces moan ; Their glory, grace, and gifts die all in one. Prayer. It is the spirit with reverence must obey Our Maker's will, to practice what He taught ; Make not the flesh thy counsel when thou pray, 'Tis enemy to every virtuous thought. Even as Elias, mounting to the sky. Did cast his mantle to the earth behind. So, when the heart presents the prayer on high. Exclude the v/orld from traffic with the mind. Nothing more grateful in the highest eyes. Nothing more firm in danger to protect us, Nothing more forcible to pierce the skies. And not depart till mercy do respect us \ And, as the soul life to the body gives, So prayer revives the soul, by prayer it lives. [Detached Passages.'] The fairest flowers have not the sweetest smell ; A seeming heaven proves oft a damning hell. Of mirth to make a trade may be a crime. But tired sprites for mirth must have a time. Life saved by sin is purchase dearly bought. Lodge, 77 THOMAS LODGE. Thomas Lodge was of a Lincolnshire family, and was born probably about 1556. In 1573, he was entered at Oxford, where he took one degree and seems to have been distinguished as a scholar, a wit and a poet. He subsequently accompanied Captain Clarke in a voyage, and, also. Captain Cavendish. He speaks of having been in the Straits of Magellan, "in which," he says, " to the southv/ard, many wonderous iles, many strange fishes, many monstrous Patagones withdrew my senses." In 1584 he was an actor. He also wrote for the stage, and appears to have studied law. At length, having studied medicine and taken the de- gi-ee of M. D. at Avignon, he settled in London, where he soon rose into notice and seems to have obtained a lucrative practice. Besides the plays. Wounds of the Civil War, and, conjointly with R. Greene, A Looking- Glass for Lo7idoii, he composed a volimie of poems, a treatise ofi the plague, translations of Josephus and Seneca, and other works. From the story of his Rosalind, an admired novel, Shakspeare constructed his As You Like It, He died of the plague in 1625. Tributes were paid to his memory by many of his contemporary poets, who have characterized him as a man of very considerable genius. \A Solitary life commended?^ At peep of day, when, in her crimson pride, , The morn bespreads with roses all the way. Where Phcebus' coach with radiant course must glide^ 7 8 Lodge, The hermit bends his humble knees to pray ; Blessing that God, whose bounty did bestow Such beauties on the earthly things below. Whether, with solace tripping on the trees He sees the citizens of forest sport, Or, midst the wither'd oak, beholds the bees Intend their labor with a kind consdrt, Down drop his tears, to think how they agree, While men alone with hate inflamed be. Sweet solitary life, thou true repose, Wherein the wise contemplate Heaven aright, In thee no dread of war or worldly foes, In thee no pomp seduceth mortal sight. In thee no wanton cares to win with words, Nor lurking toys, which city life affords. \Human miseries !\ The judgment seat hath brawls, honor is hated, The soldier's life is daily thrall to danger, The merchant's bag by tempest is abated, His stock still serves for prey to every stranger, The scholar with his knowledge learns repent ; Thus each estate in life is discontent. \Advice to Sons^ In choice of thrift let honor be your gain, Win it by virtue and by manly might ; In doing good esteem thy toil no pain, Lodge, 75 Protect the fatherless and widow's right : Fight for thy faith, thy country, and thy king ; For why ? this thrift will prove a blessed thing. In choice of friends, beware of light belief, A painted tongue may shroud a subtle heart ; The Syren tears do threaten mickle grief. Foresee, my sons, for fear of sudden smart; Chuse in your wants, and he that friends you then, When richer grown, befriend you him again. Learn, with the ant, in summer to provide. Drive, with the bee, the drone from out the hive ; Build, like the swallow, in the summer tide ; Spare not, too much, my sons, but sparing thrive ; Be poor in folly, rich in all but sin ; So by your death your glory shall begin. {From " Diana's Epitaph:'^ All ye that fix your eyes upon this tomb, Remember this, that beauty fadeth fast. That honors are enthrall'd to hapless doom. That life hath nothing sure, but soon doth waste : So live you then, that, when your years are fled. Your glories may survive when you are dead. " In Lodge," says Sir E. Brydges, " we find whole pastorals and odes which have all the ease, polish and refinement of a modern author." 8o Shakspeare, WAS SHAKSPEARE A CATHOLIC ? [From " Historical Memoirs of the English Catholics ^^ by C. Butler.'] " May the writer premise a suspicion, which from internal evidence he has long entertained, that Shaks- peare was a Roman Catholic ? Not one of his works contains the slightest reflection on popery, or on any of its practices, or any eulogy on the Reformation. His panegyric on Queen Elizabeth is cautiously expressed, while Queen Katharine [the repudiated Catholic wife of her father] is placed in a state of veneration ; and nothing can exceed the skill with which Griffith draws the panegyric of Wolsey. The ecclesiastic is never presented by Shakspeare in a degrading point of view. The jolly monk, the irregular nun, never appear in his dramas. Is it not natural to suppose that the topics on which, at that time, those who criminated popery loved so much to dwell, must have often attracted his notice, and invited him to employ his muse upon them, as subjects likely to engage the favorable attention both of the sovereign and the subject ? Does not his abstinence from these justify a suspicion that a Catholic feeling witheld him from them? This conjecture ac- quires additional confirmation from the undisputed fact that \}s\Q father of the poet lived and died in communion with the Church of Rome." In his "Midsummer-night's Dream," we find the subjoined commendation of the life of virginal and re- ligious celibacy : Shakspeare. 8 1 " Thrice blessed they, that master so their blood To undergo such maiden pilgrimage." He makes Hamlet invoke the protection of the angels, brings his father's ghost from Purgatory, and perhaps it is difficult to conceive a Protestant dramatist of that period causing Isabella, the conventual novice in " Measure for Measure," to be, as such, addressed as she is by Lucio, or exhibiting her as a lovely ex- ample of female purity, without his having first divested her of the conventual character, should it, in any work upon which his scenes might have been founded, have been ascribed to her. [Lucio to Isabella.] " Hail Virgin, if you be ; as those cheek-roses Proclaim you are no less ! I hold you as a thing enskfd and sainted, By your renouncement an immortal spirit. And to be talk'd with in sincerity. As with a saint." Act i. 5. What Protestant would probably have represented a disembodied soul * as lamenting that it had left the world " unanel'd," that is, without having received the Catholic sacrament of " extreme unction " ? These and other, in his dramas, apparent manifestations of a Catholic sentiment in their author, are the more remark- able, as not only unnecessary, but, doubtless, much less likely to have pleased than offended the Protestant and, perhaps, larger and certainly more influential part of his theatrical auditory. * In '' Hamlet." 4* 82 Massinger. Constable, We have the high, Protestant authority of Mr. Gif- ford,* the late eminent editor of the EngHsh " Quarter- ly Review," for believing that Philip Massinger, the greatly distinguished and principal tragic poet of the reign of James I, was a Catholic convert. Neverthe- less, as the evidence in regard to his and Shakspeare's supposed catholicity, is merely, however strongly, pre- sumptive, no specimens of their poetry will here be given, t HENRY CONSTABLE. Henry Constable was born about 1566. He took his A. B. at Cambridge in 1579. He was noted as a sonneteer. He is supposed to have been the Henry Constable, who, for his zeal in the Catholic cause, was long obliged to live in a state of banishment, and, hav- ing privately returned to London, was imprisoned in the tower. The most striking of his productions is The Shep- herd's Song of Venus and Adonis^ which is thought far to excel Shakspeare's on the same subject, at least in taste and natural touches. The following specimen is * His words, as cited in Lardner's Cyc, are, " A close and repeated perusal of Massinger's works, has convinced me that he was a Catholic." t Benjamin Jonson, their celebrated fellow-dramatist and cotemporary, was a Catholic convert, but is said to have at length apostatized. Some, however, and perhaps all, of his principal dramas, were composed while he is confessed to have adhered to the Catholic communion, and the same may possibly be true of many, if not most, of his minor poems. His apostasy was per- haps the result of his aspiring to court-favor. Shirley. 83 from his Diana, a collection of sonnets, &c., published in 1594. [Love's TroublesJ] To tread a maze that never shall have end ; To burn in sighs and starve in daily tears j To climb a hill, and never to descend ; Giants to kill, and quake at childish fears ; To pine for food, and watch the Hesperian tree ; To thirst for drink, and nectar still to draw ; To live accurst, whom men hold blest to be ; And weep those wrongs which never creature saw ; If this be love, if love in these be founded. My heart is love, for these in it are grounded. JAMES SHIRLEY. James Shirley, one of the great English dramatic poets, was born in London in 1594. Designed for orders in the established church, he was educated first at Oxford, where archbishop Laud refused to ordain him on account of his appearance being disfigured by a mole on his left cheek. He afterwards took the degree of A. M. at Cambridge, and officiated as curate at St. Albans. Having embraced the Catholic com munion, he there lived as a teacher, but, at length, settled in London and became a voluminous dramatic writer. When the civil war broke out, he took the field under his patron, the Earl of Newcastle. After the cessation of that struggle, he was foVced to betake him- self to his former occupation of teacher. In 1666, the 84 Shirley, great fire of London drove him and his family from their home, and, shortly afterwards, both he and his wife died on the same day. " His better characters," says Hallam, " express pure thoughts in pure language." Campbell speaks of " the airy touches of his expression, the delicacy of his sentiments, the beauty of his similes," his "polished and refined dialect," and his language as sparkling " with the most exquisite images." Besides his thirty-nine plays ^ in one of which occurs Death^s fi7tal Conquest^ his, perhaps, finest lyrical pro- duction, he composed a small volume of miscellaneous poems. The Garden. This garden does not take my eyes, Though here you show how art of men. Can purchase nature at a price AVould stock old Paradise again. These glories while you dote upon, I envy not your spring, nor pride. Nay ! boast the summer all your own, My thoughts with less are satisfied. Give me a little plot of ground. Where, might I with the sun agree. Though every day he walk his round. My garden he should seldom see. * See note 2 to the Notice of Dryden. Shirley, 85 Those tulips, that such wealth display To court my eye, shall lose their name \ Though now they listen, as if they Expected I should praise their flaine. But I would see myself appear, Within the violet's drooping head, On which a melancholy tear The discontented Morn hath shed. Within their buds let roses sleep. And virgin lilies on their stem, Till sighs from lovers glide and creep Into their leaves, to open them. In the centre of my ground compose Of bays and yews my summer room, Which may, so oft as I repose. Present my arbour and my tomb. No birds shall live within my pale. To charm me with their shames of art, Unless some wandering nightingale. Come here to sing and break her heart. Death^s Final Conquest.^ ' The glories of our blood and state Are shadov/s, not substantial things ; There is no armour against fate ; Death lays his icy hand on kings. *• Said to have been a favorite poem with Charles II. 86 Bighy. Sceptre and crown Must tumble down, And in the dust be equal made, With the poor crooked scythe and spade. Some men with swords may reap the field. And plant fresh laurels where they kill j But their strong nerves at last must yield, They tame but one another still. Early or late They stoop to fate. And must give up their murmuring breath. When they, pale captives, creep to death. The garlands wither on your brow, Then boast no more your mighty deeds ; Upon death's purple altar now See, where the victim bleeds ! YouF heads must come To the cold tomb : Only the actions of the just. Smell sweet and blossom in the dust JOHN DIGBY. John Digbv, an English nobleman, was educated at Oxford. In 1606 he was knighted by James I., who subsequently sent him as ambassador to Spain, to the Archduke Albert, and to the Emperor. On his return from Spain, whither, in 1622, he had gone to negotiate the marriage of Prince Charles with the Infanta, he Dighy, 87 was created Earl of Bristol. In the civil troubles he was exiled, and died in Paris in 1653. He was the author of verses on The Death of Sir Henry Unton^ and other poems,* and translated Du Moulin' s Defeme of the Catholic Faith. SIR KENELME DIGBY. Sir Kenelme Digby, one of the most noted and remarkable men of his time, was born at Gothurst, in 1603. He was educated at Oxford, where his tutor used to compare him, probably for the universality of his genius, to the celebrated Picus de Mirandola. Having left the university, he traveled in France, Spain, and Italy. On his return he was, while a minor, knighted by the king, and subsequently appointed a gentleman of the bedchamber, a commissioner of the navy, and a governor of Trinit}^ House. In 1628, he went as admiral to the Mediterranean, and won great honor by his bravery and conduct at Algiers, in rescuing many English slaves, and in attacking the Venetian fleet in the bay of Scanderoon. His conversion to the Catholic Church from the Church of England, seems to have been first publicly professed in 1636. In 1638, he published, at Paris, A Correspondence with a Lady about the Subject of Religio7i. In 165 1, Letters between Lord George Digby and Sir Kejielme Digby ^ Knight, concern- ing jReligion, were published in London. His opponent IN THIS CONTROVERSY SUBSEQUENTLY BECAME A CATH- OLIC. In 1639, Sir Kenelme and Sir Walter Montague * The compiler has met with no specimen of them. 88 Bighy. were employed by the Queen to endeavor to persuade the Catholics to contribute liberally in aid of the King, (Charles I,) which object they are said to have effected. At the commencement of the civil war he was impris- oned by the Parliament, but, in 1643, was set at liberty. During his confinement he composed observations on Brow?i^s Religio Medici and a portion oi Spe7tstr's Faiiy Queejt. Having retired to France, he there completed and published several philosophical works.* On his visiting England, in order to compound for his estate, he was, by the parliament, not only ordered to with- draw, but told that, if he should at any time return without leave, he should forfeit both life and estate. Thereupon, he again went to France, where by Henri- etta, dowager-queen of England, to whom he had for some time been chancellor, he was very kindly received, and, not long afterwards, was sent by her into Italy. He, at length, ventured to return to England, and was supposed to have been engaged in a project for recon- ciling the Catholics to the administration of Cromwell. Having returned from the Continent in 1661, he re- appeared and was well received at the English Court. In the first settlement of the Royal Society he was ap- pointed a member of the Council. One of his dis- courses, " Concerning the Vegetation of Plants," was in that year printed. In 16*54 he published a transla- tion, which he had made from the Latin, and called, A Treatise of adhering to God. He died, nth June, 1665. * Entitled, " A Treatise on the Nature of Bodies ; " " A Trea- tise declaring the Operations and Nature of Man's Soul, out of which the Immortality of Reasonable Souls is evinced ; " and " Institutionum Peripateticarum libri quinque, cum Appendice Theologica de Origine Mundi." Davenant, 89 Wood calls him " A magazine of all the arts." His cotemporary, Lord Clarendon, says, "He was ver}- eminent throughout the whole course of his life ; of a very extraordinary person and presence, which drew the eyes of all men upon him, which were more fixed by a wonderful grace of behavior, a flowing courtesy and civility, and such a volubility of language as sur- prised and delighted. In a word, he had all the advan- tages that nature and art and an excellent education could give him." Of a poem ascribed to him, Ellis cites the following passage : " Fame, honor, beauty, state, trains, blood, and birth, Are but the fading blossoms of the earth. I would be great, but that the sun doth still Level his rays against the highest hill ; I would be high, but see the proudest oak More subject to the rending thunder-stroke ; I 'Would be wise, but that the fox I see Suspected guilty, while the ass goes free ; I would be fair, but see that champion proud, The brightest sun, oft setting in a cloud. SIR WILLIAM DAVENANT. Sir William Davenant, the son of a " sufficient vintner " in Oxford, was born in 1605. In 162 1, he was entered at Lincoln College, Oxford, but appears to have soon left it and become first page to Frances, Duchess of Richmond. His patron was the celebrated Fulk go Davenant, Greville, in whose family he hved until that nobleman was assassinated, in 1628. In 1629, he produced his first play. The next eight years of his life were spent in a constant attendance upon the court, where he seems to have been a special favorite. In 1638 he was appointed poet-laureate. He was subsequently man- ager of Drury-Lane, but having entered into the com- motions and intrigues of the civil war, he was appre- hended and confined in the Tower. He, at length, escaped to France, where he appears to have remained till the Queen sent over to the Earl of Newcastle a quantity of military stores, when he resolved to return. He was appointed by the Earl, Lieutenant-General of Ordnance, and distinguished himself so much in the cause of the royalists, that he was knighted for his skill and bravery. The time of his conversion to the Catholic faith is supposed to have been about the year 1646. On the decline of the royal cause he returned to France, where he partly wrote Gondibert, a heroic and his prin- cipal poem, which he subsequently continued under confinement and condemnation. In the summer, how- ever, of that year, he was concerned in a very important negotiation, and by the Queen dispatched to England with a letter of credit to the King. His next step was to sail for Virginia, as a colonial projector ; but the vessel in which he had embarked, was captured by a parliamentary ship of war, and he was lodged in prison at Cowes. In 1650 he was removed to the Tower. His life was considered in danger, but he was released after a confinement of two years. His operas and comedies were the first pieces brought out on the English stage after the Restoration. He effected two great improvements in theatrical repre- Davenant. 9 1 sentations, the regular introduction of female players, and the use of movable scenery and apiDropriate deco- rations. It seems not improbable that he was, at length, driven, as a writer and manager, to the stage * for a maintenance, the King being in no condition fully to provide for many whom he might have wished to oblige. He died in 1668, and was buried in Westminster Abbey. Inscribed upon his tomb are the words, " O, rare Sir William Davenant." Besides Gondibert, Madagascar, and other poems, he was the author of twenty-five dramatic pieces. His poems are remarkable for moral purity, originality, and, their date considered, for correctness and elegance. Dryden remarks that he was first taught by Davenant to admire Shakspeare, and that he " found " him " of so quick a fancy," that nothing " was proposed to him in which he could not suddenly produce a thought ex- tremely pleasant and surprising." The notice of him in the Biographia Britamiica, alluding to his letter to Whitlocke, says that it " would have secured him the reputation of the politest pen of the times, if nothing of his had remained besides." Southey calls him a man "of great and indubitable genius," and remarks that he and his cotemporary. Sir John Davis, " avoiding equally the opposite faults of too artificial and too careless a style, wrote in numbers which, for precision, and clearness, and felicity, and strength, have never been surpassed." Says Sir Walter Scott, "A single poet. Sir William Davenant, made a meritorious effort to rescue poetry from becoming the mere handmaid of pleasure, and to * See note 2 to the Notice of Dryden. g2 Davenant, restore her to her natural rank in society, as an auxili ary of religion and virtue. Few poems afford more instances of vigorous conception, and even of felicity of expression, than GondibertT The profession of the Catholic faith by Davenant and his cotemporary convert. Sir Kenelme Digby, at a period when that profession necessitated, in a great degree, the forfeiture of public favor, and, perhaps, royal patronage, and subjected them to the possibility of legal prosecutions,"* may be regarded as satisfactory evidence of their sincerity. The Restoration having deprived Milton of his public employments, and exposed him to danger, by the interest of Davenant and Marvell he was included in the general amnesty. [From " Gondibert."] \RhodaUnd described^ Her father's prosperous palace was the sphere Where she to all with heavenly order moved ; Made rigid virtue so benign appear. That 'tv/as, without religion's aid, beloved. Her looks like empire shewed, great above pride, Since pride ill counterfeits excessive height ; But nature published what she fain would hide. Who for her deeds, not beauty, Ibved the light. Her mind, scarce to her feeble sex akin. Did, as her birth, her right to empire show ; * Under the statutes enacted against Catholics. Davenant. 93 Seemed careless outward when employed within ; Her speech, like lovers' ^ watched^ was kind and low \Birtha described^ Whilst her great mistress, Nature, thus she tends, The busy household waits no less on her ; By secret law each to her beauty bends, Though all her lowly mind to that prefer. Gracious and free she breaks upon them all With morning looks ; and they, when she does rise. Devoutly at her dawn in homage fall. And droop, like flowers, when evening shuts her eyes. She ne'er saw courts, yet courts could have undone With untaught looks, and an unpractised heart. Her nets the most prepared could never shun, For nature spread them in the scorn of art. She never had in busy cities been. Ne'er warmed with hopes, nor e'er allayed with fears j Not seeing punishment, could guess no sin, And, sin not seeing, ne'er had use of tears. And, as kind Nature, with calm diligence. Her own free virtue silently employs, Wliilst she unheard does ripening growth dispense, So were her virtues busy without noise. \JPraise, Prayer, and Fe?tite?ice.'\ Praise is devotion fit for mighty minds, The differing world's agreeing sacrifice, * Lovers' speech watched. 94 Bavenant, Where Heaven divided faiths united finds ; But prayer, in various discord, upward flies. For prayer the ocean is where diversly Men steer their course, each to a several coast ; Where all our interests so discordant be, That half beg winds by which the rest are lost. By penitence when we ourselves forsake, 'Tis but in wise design on piteous Heaven : In praise we nobly give what God may take. And are, without a beggar's blush, forgiven. [The temples of Prayer , Penitence, and Praise, as dedicated by Astragon, described.'] The temple built for prayer can neither boast The builder's curious art, nor does declare. By choice materials, he intended cost ; To show that nought should need to tempt to prayer. No bells are here ; unhinged are all the gates ; Since craving in distress is natural, All lies so ope that none for entrance waits ; And those whom faith invites can need no call. The great have by distinction here no name ; For all so covered come in grave disguise, To show none come for decency or fame. That all are strangers to each other's eyes. Since the required extreme of penitence Seems so severe, this temple * was designed, * Of Penitence. Davenant. 95 Solemn and strange without, to catch the sense, And dismal showed within, to awe the mind. Of sad, black marble was the outward frame, A mourning monument to distant sight ; But by the largeness, when you near it came, It seemed the palace of eternal night. Hither a loud bell's tone rather commands, Than seems to invite the persecuted ear ; A summons Nature hardly understands, For few and slow are those who enter here. Within a dismal majesty they find ; All gloomy, great, all silent does appear. As Chaos was ere the elements were designed : Man's evil fate seems hid and fashioned here. Black curtains hide the glass, whilst, from on high, A winking lamp still threatens all the room. As if the lazy flame just now would die ; Such will the sun's last light appear at doom. {^Temple of FraiseJ] Dark are all thrones to what this temple seemed. Whose marble veins outshined heaven's various bow ; And would, eclipsing all proud Rome esteemed. To northern eyes like eastern mornings show. In statue o'er the gate God's favorite king, The author of celestial praise, did stand ; His quire, that did his sonnets set and sing. In niches ranged, attended either hand. g6 Davenant. Tapers and lamps are not admitted here ; Those but with shadows give false beauty grace, And this victorious glory can appear Unvailed* before the sun's meridian face. [^Picture of the Ascension ifi this temple.'] And know, lost Nature ! this resemblance was Thy frank Redeemer in ascension shown ; When hell He conquered in thy desperate cause, Hell, which before man's common grave was grown. The holy mourners, vv'ho this Lord of Life Ascending saw, did seem with Him to rise, — So well the painter drew their passions' strife, — To follow Him with bodies, as with eyes. [^Scripture and its abuse.] But here the soul's chief book did all precede, Our map towards heaven, to common crowds denied, Who proudly aim to teach ere they can read ; Aftd all must stray where each will be a guide. About this sacred, little book did stand Unwieldy volumes, and in number great ; And long it was since any reader's hand Had reached them from their unfrequented seat. For a deep dust, which time does softly shed Where only time does come, their covers bear; On which grave spiders streets of webs had spread, Subtle and slight, as the grave writers were. * Undiminished. Davenant, 97 In these Heaven's holy fire does vainly burn, Nor warms, nor lights, but is in sparkles spent j Where froward authors with disputes have torn The garment, seamless as the firmament. [BooksJ] Gold of the dead. Which time does still disperse, but not devour. [Trut/i:] Truth, the discovery made by traveling minds. [Secref love discovered.'] Her face, o'ercast with thought, does soon betray The assembled spirits, which his eyes detect By her pale looks ; as, by the milky-way. Men first did the assembled stars suspect. Or, as a prisoner, that in prison pines. Still, at the utmost window, grieving lies ; Even so her soul, imprisoned, sadly shines — As if it watched for freedom — at her eyes. \Frotn " The Christian's Reply to the Philosopher:'] The good in graves, as heavenly seed, are sown. And, at the saints' first spring, the general doom, Will rise not by degrees, but fully blown ; When all the angels to their harvest come. God bred the arts, to make us more believe. By seeking Nature's covered mysteries, 98 Davenant, His darker works ; that faith might thence conceive He can do more tlian what our reason sees. Frail life ! in which through mists of human breath We grope for truth and make our progress slow, Because by passion blinded, till by death, Our passions ending, we begin to know. O harmless death ! whom still the valiant brave, The wise expect, the sorrowful invite, And all the good embrace, who know the grave A short, dark passage to eternal light. Epitaph on Mrs. Cross. Within this hallowed ground this seed is sown Of such a flower, though fallen ere fully blown. As will, when doom, the saints' first springy appears, Be sweet as those which heaven's choice bosom wears. As calm in life as others in death's shade. So silent that her tongue seemed only made For precepts, weighed as those in wisest books : Yet nought that silence lost us, for her looks Persuaded more than others by their speech : Yet more by deeds than words she loved to teacli. Song. The lark now leaves his watery nest. And climbing shakes his dewy wings ; He takes this window for the East, And, to implore your light, he sings. Awake ! awake ! the moon will never rise Till she can dress her beauty at your eyes. Habington. 99 The merchant bows unto the seaman's star, The ploughman from the sun his season takes j But still the lover wonders what they are, Who look for day before his mistress wakes. Awake ! awake ! look through your veils of lawn, Then draw your curtains, and begin the dawn! WILLIAM HABINGTON. William Habington was born, in 1605, of a Cath- olic family in Worcestershire, and educated at Paris and St. Omer's. His literary attainments recommend- ed him to the favor of Charles I., at whose command he wrote a History of Edward IV. He also composed Observations upon History^ and The Queen of Aragon, a play which was acted at court. Twenty years before his death he published his Poems. His life seems to have glided quietly away, cheered by the society and affection of his " Castara," as his wife, a daughter of Lord Powis, is called in his verses. He died in 1654. His poetry is tender, often elegant, and remarkable for the delicacy with which, pure in an age of license, it treats erotic subjects. Southey calls him an " amiable man and irreproachable poet." His father was implicated in Babington's Conspir- acy ; his uncle suffered death for his share in it ; and his mother is said to have written the famous letter to Lord Monteagle, which is supposed to have averted the gun-powder plot. Milner, however, says that, according to a certain authority, Tresham wrote it, and if so, seems to think it was dictated by Cecil. lOO Hahington. Castara, Like the violet, which alone Prospers in some happy shade, My Castara lives unknown. To no looser eye betrayed. She obeys with speedy will, Her grave parents' wise commands, And so innocent, that ill She nor acts nor understands. She her throne makes reason climb, While wild passions captive lie ; And, each article of time. Her pure thoughts to Heaven fly. Upon Beauty. [A Sonnet.] Castara, see that dust the sportive wind So wantons with. 'Tis haply all you'll find Left of some beauty, and how still it flies. To trouble^ as it did in life, our eyes ! O empty boast of flesh ! though our heirs gild The far-fetched Phrygian marble, which shall build A burthen to our ashes, yet will death Betray them to the sport of every breath. Dost thou, poor relic of our frailty, still Swell up with glory ? Or is it thy skill To mock weak man, whom every wind of praise Into the air doth 'bove his centre raise ? If so, mock on, and tell him that his lust To beauty 's madness, for it courts but dust. Habington. loi \From " Cupio Z>issolvi"'\ The soul which doth with God unite, Those gaieties how doth she sHght Which o'er opinion sway ! Like sacred virgin's wax, which shines On altars or on martyrs' shrines, How doth she burn away ! How soon she leaves the pride of wealth. The flatteries of youth and health And fame's more precious breath ; And every gaudy circumstance That doth the pomp of life advance. At the approach of death ! The cunning of astrologers Observes each motion of the stars. Placing all knowledge there ; And lovers, in their mistress' eyes. Contract those wonders of the skies. And seek no higher sphere. But he whom heavenly fire doth warm And 'gainst these powerful follies arm, Doth soberly disdain All these fond, human mysteries. As the deceitful and unwise Distempers of our brain. He, as a burden, bears his clay, Yet vainly throws it not away. On every idle cause ; I02 Habington. But with the same untroubled eye, Can or resolve to live or die, Regardless of th' applause. [From " Nbn Nobis Z>omine"'\ No laurel wreath about my brow ! To Thee,