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 Gift of 
 
 MRS. THEODORE M. LILIENTHAL 
 
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DAVISONS 
 
 poetical 3a!)apsoti}), 
 
 i 
 
 WITH 
 
 A PREFACE, 
 
 BY 
 
 SIR EGEirrON BIIYDGES, K.J. 
 
 
 
 •' Novi-r dur»l Pwct touch * |»en to write, 
 
 L iitil hi» Ink werr tcmpcr'd «ritb Lo»e'« ttftu •, ^ 
 
 And tlieo bti \\ne» would rM^h Mvi«e ran. 
 
 And pUat in Tyrant* mU4«H»BUy.» Skmknp. 
 
 
 
 KENT: 
 ^acintcD at tt)e prtbatc 4j)cf{^ of %ft Ij^xioxv; 
 
 BY JOHNSON AND'waRWICK. 
 
 1814. 
 
 
m 
 
POETICAL RHAPSODY; 
 
 CONTAINING 
 
 DIVERSE SONNETS, 
 
 <Bnt^, l^legic0, inaurtgaljj, lEpigramiaf, 
 i3a0toral0, l£clogiujs(, 
 
 WITH 
 
 OTHER POEMS; 
 
 BOTH IK 
 
 RHYM£ AND MEASURED VERSE. 
 
 For yariety and Pleasure, the like never yet published. 
 
 The Bee aad Spider by • dtvcne power. 
 
 Suck honey and poison from the •cir-Min« tower. 
 
 LOXDOJ^T: 
 
 PRINTED BY NICHOLAS OKES, FOR ROGER JACKSON^ 
 OWSLLINO IN FLEET STREET, NEAR THE GREAT CONDUIT. 
 
 1608. 
 
TO THE MOST 
 NOBLB, HONOUHABLB, AND WORTHY LORD, 
 
 WILLIAM, EARL OF PEMBROKE, 
 
 HorD ll^rtibrTt of CTarDiff, i^amion. $: Bt <!!lu(utinr. 
 
 REAT Earl, whose brave heroic 
 
 luind is higher 
 And nobler, tliiin thy noble high 
 
 degree ; 
 
 Whose outward shape, though it most lovely be, 
 Doth in fair robes a fairer soul attire ; 
 Who rich in fading wealth, in endless treasure 
 Of virtue, valour, learning, richer art ; 
 Whose present greatness, men est^^ni but part 
 Of what by line of future hope tj^ey measure ! 
 Thou worthy son- unto a peerless mother, 
 Or nephew to great Sydney of renown, 
 Who hast deser\''d thy coronet, to crown 
 With Ikurel crown, a crown excelling th' other, 
 I consecrate these rhymes to thy great name. 
 Which if thou like, they seek no other fame. 
 
 FRANCIS DAVISON. 
 
Digitize'd by the Internet Archive 
 
 in 2007 with funding from 
 
 IVIicrosoft Corporation 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/davisonspoeticalOOdfvirich 
 
Co tf)t lltaDfer< 
 
 EING induced by some private reasons, 
 and by the instant entreaty of special 
 friends, to suffer some of my worthless 
 I^ot'ins to be published, I desired to 
 make some written by my dear friends Anonymoi, and 
 my dearer Brother, to bear them company; both without 
 their consent, the latter being in the Low Country wars, 
 and the rest utterly ignorant thereof My friends' 
 names I concealed; mine own and my Brother's twilled 
 the Printer to suppress, as well as I had concealed the 
 other, which he having put in without my privity, we 
 must now undergo a sharper censure, perhaps, than our 
 nameless works should have done, and I especially. 
 For if their Poems be liked, the praise is due to their 
 invention; if disliked, the blame both by them and all 
 men vnll be derived upon me, for publishing that which 
 they meant to suppress. 
 
 If thou think we affect fame by these kinds of 
 writings; though I think them no disparagement even 
 to the best judgments, yet I answer in all our beluilfs, 
 with the Princely Shepherd Dorus, 
 
 Onr heart* do seek another estimation. 
 
 If thou condemn Poetry in general, and affirm that it 
 
. Zo t|)c l^caDtr. 
 
 doth intoxicate the brain, and make men utterly unjit, 
 either for more serious studies, or for any active course 
 of life, I only say, Jubeo te stultum esse, libenter. 
 Since experience proves by examples of many, both dead 
 and Uving, that diverse delighted, cuid excelling herein, 
 being Princes or Statesmen, have governed and coun- 
 dlled as wisely; being Soldiers, have commanded 
 armies as fortunately; being Lawyers, have pleaded 
 asjudidally and eloquently; being Divines, have writ- 
 ten and taught as profoundly; and being of any other 
 profession, have discharged it as su^ciently as any 
 other men whatsoever. If liking other kinds, thou mis- 
 like the Lyrical, because the chiefest subject thereof 
 is Love, I reply, that Love bdng virtuously intended, 
 ajid worthily placed, is the whetstone of wit, and spur 
 to aU generous actions; and that many excellent spirits 
 with great fame of wit, and no stain of judgment, have 
 written excellently in this kind, and specially the ever 
 praise-worthy Sydney. So as if thou will needs make 
 it a fault, for mine own part. 
 
 Hand timeo, si iam neqneo defendere crimen 
 Turn tantc commune riro. 
 
 If any except agaitut the mixing (both at the be- 
 ginning and end of this book) of diverse things written 
 by great and learned personages, with our mean and 
 
Co tht liratrT. 
 
 worthle$$ Mcriblmgs, I utttrbf dueimm ii, as bemg 
 dome by the Prmier, eHker to grace the fare-fnmi with 
 Sir Philip Sydncf'f, ottd oihert MBHer, or to make the 
 book grow to a eomtpelemt vokame. 
 
 For theae Poems m pmrticMiar, I amid aUege 
 theoe exemeet; thai thooe wfder the mtme qf Adooj- 
 rooQs were wriilem (m w^fmrtik by dintne ikimge, to 
 Sir Philip Sfdaej Bemg, mad ^ kkm dmd) mhmoM 
 twenty yean mmce^ whem Poetry woe Jar from thai 
 petfectkm to whkk U has mmc ait am t d; thai my Bro- 
 ther if by prqftMsum a mddierf amd iMt aot eig kie em 
 yean oid whem he writ theee tay$: thai aiae otm were 
 mmde moiI ^ them aix or Jrcai yean emce, ai idle 
 times as Jjoarmeyed mp amd dawm^ darimg My tracels. 
 But to leace their works to justify themuekes^ or the 
 asdhon to jmsiijy their works^ amd to speak rf wame 
 owm; iky ■Jjirttt / wf , % prmme (m^kkk I 
 neither desenre mar expect) I eataea^ mC, at hapmag, 
 (God wUiimg)^ ere lomg, to regmm Ay goodopasitm, if 
 lost; or more deservedly to eamtimme H, if already 06- 
 toimedy by scsme grmcer work. 
 
 
ADVERTISEMENT. 
 
 Id consequence of the length of time it will take before the entire 
 reprint of ** Davison's Rhapsody" can appear from the Let* Prfss con- 
 sistently with the execution of the other works which arc ((oing on there, 
 it has been found necessary to diride this carious Miscellany into sepa- 
 rate portions, each of which forms a whole in itself; and to give thcni 
 succcssirely to the public at moderate interrals. 
 
 In the present Month will mfftmrfnm this FrtM, 
 
 BERTRAM, 
 
 A POETICAL TALE.— IN FOUR CANTOS. 
 BY III BGERTON BRYDGES, M.P. 
 
 Works already printed at the prkate Press qf Lee Priory. 
 
 IN OCTAVO. 
 1. Sylvan Wanderer, Part I. 
 «. Excerpta Tudoriana, N« 1. «, 3. 
 
 3. Life of Margaret Cavendish, Ducheu of Nevcattle. 
 
 4. Nymphulia: by Michael Drayton, 
 
 QUARTO. 
 
 5. Greene' t Groats-worth of Wit, (only Sixty-one Copies J 
 
 6. Raleigh's Poems. 
 
 7. Select Poems: by Sir Egerion Brydges, M.P. 
 
 8. Longing of a Blessed Heart: by Nicholas Breton. 
 
 9. Dunluce Castle: by Edward Quillinan, Esq. 
 
 IN THE PRESS. 
 Select Sonnets from Petrarch, 4to. 
 Lord Brook's Life of Sir Philip Sydney, Sro. 
 Excerpta Tudoriana, N° 4. 
 Sylvan Handerer, Part II. 
 Tracts of Sir Henry Wotton, Hvo. 
 Raleigh's Poems, Vol. II. 4to. 
 
 Evtry fFork of tku Prets u strictly ifmited not to exceed 
 one hundred Copies. 
 
THIS EDITION 
 
 OP 
 
 DAVISON'S 
 
 POETICAL. RHAPSODY! 
 
 :V «A 
 
 mWr 
 
 BDITSD BT 
 
 SIR EGERTON BRYDGES, K.J. 
 
 IS 
 
 THE FIFTH PUBLICATION, IN OCTAVO, 
 
 rSINTSO AT 
 
 Z\^t prtbatf ^xt%i of Zcr i^dors, lEltnt 
 
 The Imprcttion U limited u usual to One Huudred Copies. 
 
TO 
 
 CHARLES ABBOTT, Esq. 
 
 BARRISTER AT LAW, 
 
 TBI 
 
 Companion Sr fritntilD Competitor of |)t$( incipient j^tuDieti, 
 
 THE ASSOCIATE OP HIS BOYISH DAYS, 
 
 THE CHOSEN JUDGE OP THE LITEEAET EPFOETS OP HIS 
 FIBST MANHOOD^ 
 
 ANO 
 
 HIS LATEST ADVISER IN THB DISCHARGE OF 
 
 AN IMPORTANT PUBLIC OCJTY) 
 
 .Y« Eimimtntfor kii Classical Attawwtent* at Ox/ord, at for hU pto- 
 foamd KnowUdgt of Lmw in wuUurer Lift: 
 
 THIS NEW EDITION 
 or 
 
 ]3mr{<iDOX'i& ^(f^lEOeaZ «l?I^V<S)€)BY, 
 
 AS AN OFFERING TO THAT TASTE FOB THE SIMPLICITY OF OUB OLD 
 
 LITEBATVBE, WHICH THE MORE SERIOUS AND PERPLEXING 
 
 OCCUPATIONS OF HIS TIME CANNOT EXTINGUISH. 
 
 It 
 
 DEDICATED, 
 
 •T 
 
 SAMUEL EGERTON BRYDGES. 
 
 Lowim, JwM S(H I8H. 
 
ADVERTISEMENT 
 
 THE nRST PORTION OF THIS EDITION. 
 
 H£ Collection of Elizabethan 
 Poetry, which is now again in- 
 troduced to the carious through 
 the Lee Priort Press, has long 
 been a desideratum among the lovers of our 
 old English literature: for, though it passed 
 through four editions in the reign of King 
 James I. (l603, 1608, 1611, 16111,) it has for 
 at least a centurv been so rare, that Terv few 
 have had an opportunity of being gratified 
 with the perusal of it. 
 
 The intrinsic merit of the pieces, which 
 it contains, is intended to form the subject of 
 an Introduction, which is kept back till the 
 printers have had time to complete the im- 
 pression of the original work. 
 
 Francis Davison, the collector, and in 
 part author, of these poems, was the son of 
 
2 . . . . ^iJbcrti^cment 
 
 William, that unfortunate Secretary * of 
 Queen Elizabeth, who had such a share in 
 the death-warrant of Queen Mary. Francis 
 was himself far from a mean poet; as the 
 specimens from his MS. " Version of the 
 Psalrns,** given in the " Excerpt a Tudoriana," 
 will convince every reader of taste. 
 
 The early editions are at entire variance 
 from the last edition in the arrangement of the 
 pieces. The first have the Poems classed, prin- 
 cipally under the heads of authors ; the last, 
 of the different sorts of poetry, such as Odes, 
 Madrigals, Canzonets, Sonnets, Pastorals, Ele- 
 gies, Epigrams: a plan totally inconsistent 
 with the information intended to be conveyed 
 by the Preface, and rendering the most curious 
 part of that Preface utterly unintelligible. 
 
 The plan which has been finally adopted 
 for the present edition, (not, it must be con- 
 fessed, without some hesitation at its com- 
 mencement,) is to throw together the Mis cell a- 
 
 * See a Life of William Davisox, the Secretary, in ** Chalmers's 
 Biographical Dictionary," xi. 333. 
 
atbettWf ment 3 
 
 neous Pieces, consisting of those, whether with, 
 or without a signature, which do not form any 
 separate division, under a separate title, in the 
 original publication. In conformity to this 
 scheme a few straggling pieces, which seem to 
 have got out of their places by negligence, 
 are restored to their proper order. 
 
 In this view there is one main portion, a 
 portion that to the Editor appears of far the 
 greatest value, set apart for the subject of a 
 separate discussion, which engages not a little 
 of his interest and anxiety. It would be pre- 
 mature in the present stage to hint at its drift. 
 
 The Poems of Francis Davison, and his 
 brother Walter, will have, as they deserve, 
 a distinct compartment assigned to them : and 
 perhaps it may be proper to append to them 
 the remainder of his beautiful " f^ersion of the 
 Psalms,** 
 
 Davison could scarcely have had any 
 concern in the last edition of " The Rhapsody T 
 for it is improbable that he would have been 
 guilty of such an utter subversion of the prin- 
 
atibertt^cmcnt 
 
 ciple of his first arrangement. Probably he 
 was dead in 1 621. 
 
 It is the opinion of Mr. Park, whose 
 familiarity with these subjects for nearly 
 thirty years, and whose opportunity of com- 
 parison, is pre-eminent, that this is the most 
 valuable Miscellany of the age in which it 
 was published. Perhaps it does not contain 
 pieces of more merit than ^^ England's Heli- 
 con T indeed, I must confess that there are 
 some in that book more beautiful than any 
 here. But the materials of that work were 
 drawn, at least with few exceptions, from 
 printed volumes, which, though of great rarity, 
 are still to be found. Most of the pieces con- 
 tained in the ^' Rhapsody^ seem to have been 
 drawn from MSS. of which no copy had 
 passed the press : so that this work is the only 
 memorial of them. 
 
 That the reader may minutely be ac- 
 quainted with the arrangement of the early 
 editions, a Table of Contents of the edition of 
 1608, shall be given in the following pages. 
 
9l>berti$cmcnt 5 
 
 The f allowing is the Arrangement of' the 
 Edition of 1608. 
 
 1. Miscellaneous, p. 1 to 45. 
 
 2. A new Title, viz. Ten Sonnets, by T. W. p. 
 47 ; under this title are. 
 
 Ten Sonnets, by T. W. p. 49 to 55. 
 
 Three Sonnets, by Charles Best, p. 55 to 56. 
 
 Pastorals and Eclogues, p. 57 to 85. 
 
 3. Another Title, p. 87, viz. Sonnets, Odes, Ele- 
 gies, Madrigals and Epigrams, 
 
 By Francis Davison, T 
 
 and \ Brethren. 
 
 Walter Davison. J 
 Tlie contents of this division run to p. 132. 
 •I. Another Title, p. 133, viz. Sonnets, Odes^ 
 Elcgit's, and other Poesies. 
 
 This is the division which is mentioned in the 
 Preface, under the name of Anonymous, and runs to 
 p. 189. 
 
 5. Another Title, p. 191, viz. Diverse Poems of 
 sundry Authors, concludes with p. 228. 
 
6 . . . . ^tibcrti^cmcnt. 
 
 Contents of the Edition of 1608, in the Order, 
 in which the Poems occur, 
 
 1. " Yet other Twelve Wonders of the fVorW 
 " Long have 1 liv'd in Court, yet learn'd not all this while." 
 
 John Davies. 
 
 2. ''A Lottery y presented before the late Queen's Majesty, 
 
 at the Lord Chancellor's House" 1601. 
 
 ** Cynthia, Queen of seas and lands." 
 
 J. D. 
 
 3. ** A Contention between a Wife, a Widow, and a Maid" 
 
 ** Widow, well met; whither go you to-day?" 
 
 John Davies. 
 
 4. '' Tfie Lie." 
 ** Go, Soul, the Body's guest." 
 
 5. " Two Pastorals, made by Sir Philip Sydney." 
 ** Join, Mates, in mirth to me." 
 
 Sir Philip Sydney. 
 
 6. ^* Dispraise of a Courtly Life." 
 ** Walking in bright Phoebus' blaze." 
 
 Sir Philip Sydney. 
 
 7. **A Fiction, how Cupid made a Nymph wound herself 
 
 with his Arrows." 
 
 ** It chanc'd of late a Shepherd's swain." 
 
 8. ''A Dialogue between two Shepherds, Thenot and Piers, 
 
 in praise of Astrea." 
 
 *' I sing dirine Astrea's praise." 
 
 Maiy Countess of Pembroke. 
 
 9. ** A Roundelay in inverted Rhymes, between the two friend- 
 ly Rivals, Strephon and Klaius, in the presence of 
 Urania, Mistress to them both," 
 
 ** O, whither shall I turn me .'" 
 
 Walter Davison. 
 
anbrrti^tmcnt. 
 
 10. ** J Complaint, of which all the Staves end with the 
 
 ll'ords ofthefrst, like a Sestiney 
 
 *< Ye ghastly grores, that hear my woeful cries." 
 
 F. D. 
 
 Inscriptions y p. 33. 
 
 11. **Thitber 
 " Te woefal Sim, wboM cansclcM bate hath bred." 
 
 12. " Clytemnestra to her Son Orestes, coming to Kill her 
 for Murdering his Father Jgamemnon."' 
 ** Hold, hold thy band, vile ion of Tiler mother.'* 
 
 13. "4iax:' 
 
 ** This sword is mine, or will Laertes' son." 
 
 14. **R(mulusr 
 " No common womb was fit me forth to bring .*' 
 
 15. " Fabritius Curior 
 " My funona cooatry ralnct gold far less.'* 
 
 16. " Cato Uticenr 
 ** Cesar, thou hast o'ercimie to thy great fame." 
 
 17. "An Epitaph on Henry III. of France."' 
 
 " Mliether thy choice, or chance thee hither brings." 
 
 F. D. 
 
 IS. '* A Dialogue in imitation of that between Horace 
 
 and Lydia." 
 
 ** While thon didst lore me, and that neck of thine." 
 
 19. '* Madrigal, from a Greek Epigram.*' 
 ** He's rich enough, whose eyes behold thee." 
 
 20. '* Madrigal. On her Dreaming that she saw him Dead." 
 ** O fair, yet murdering eyes." 
 
^tJbertiscmcnt 
 
 21. '* Sonnet:- 
 
 " When trait' rous Photine Caesar did present." 
 
 22. " Sonnet r 
 
 '* While Love in you did live, I only liv'd in you." 
 
 23. *' Sonnet. To Mistress Diana.'' 
 
 ** Phoebus of all the Gods I wish to be." 
 
 24. ** Madrigal. Upon his Departure." 
 ** Sure, Dear, I love you not; for he that loveth." 
 
 2d— 37- Thirteen Epigrams from Martial. 
 
 38-— 47. Ten Epigrams. 
 
 Subscribed F. D. 
 
 Second Division— Ten Sonnets by T, W.^p. 47. viz. 
 
 48. "A Dialogue between the Lover and his Heart." 
 ** Speak, gentle Heart, where is thy dwelling place.'" 
 
 49. '* A Dialogue between a Lover, Death, and Love." 
 *' Come, gentle Death! JD. Who calls.' L. One that's opprest." 
 
 50. " That Time hath no power to end, or diminish his Love. 
 ** Time weisteth years, and months, and days, and hours." 
 
 51. '^ Love 's Hyperboles.' ' 
 
 ** If Love had lost his shafts, and Jove down threw." 
 
 52. "An Invective against Love.'' 
 
 " Love is a sour delight, a sugar'd grief." 
 
 53. ''From Petrarch." 
 ** I joy not peace, where yet no war is found." 
 
 54. " The Torments of Tantalus," &;c. 
 ** In that I thirst for such a goddess grace." 
 
auberttjifment 9 
 
 55. ** Love's Discommodities." 
 ' Where heat of Love doth once poMcu the heart." 
 
 56. ** Allegory of his Love to a Ship.'' 
 ** The soldier worn with war delight* in peace." 
 
 57. •* Execration of his passed Love." 
 
 ** I corM the time, wherein these lips ai oune." 
 
 T. W. 
 
 58. "ASormeiofthe Sun.' 
 
 <« The San doth make the marigold to floorich." 
 
 Ch. B. 
 
 59. "A Sonnet of the Moon" 
 ** Ixwk how the pale Queen of the tilcnt night." 
 
 Ch. B. 
 
 Pastorals and Eclogues, p. 57* 
 
 60. "StrephoH's Palinode," 
 '* Sweat, 1 do not pardon crave." 
 
 61. " Urania" s Answer, m mcerted Rhyme." 
 " Since true pwiannr hath tnspended." 
 
 Fra. DaTtsoo. 
 
 62. "Eclogue L" 
 ** A shepherd poor: Eubnlos call'd he was." 
 
 P. D. 
 
 63. *' Eclogue, entitled Cuddy." 
 •' A little herd-groom, for he was no bett*." 
 
 64. " The Christian Stoic." 
 ** The virtuous man is free, though boond in chains." 
 
 65. " An Eclogue, on the Death of Sir Philip Sydney." 
 ** Perin, areed what new mischance betide." 
 
 A. W. 
 
10 aubcrtt^ement 
 
 66. ''Eclogue:' 
 
 ** Come, gentle hcrdsmaD, sit by me." * 
 
 67. "Eclogue:' 
 
 *' For when thou art not, as thou wont of yore." f 
 
 Third Division— Sonnets, Odes, Elegies, Madrigals 
 and Epigrams, by Francis Davison and Walter 
 Davison, Brethren, p. 87. 
 
 68. '' Sofinet I. Dedicatory to his Jirst Love:' 
 ** If my harsh humble stile, and rhymes iU-dressed." 
 
 69. ''Sonnet 2:' 
 
 ** I bend my wits, and beat my weary brain." 
 
 70. "Sonnets:' 
 
 *' The fairest eyes, O eyes in blackness fair." 
 
 71. "Sonnet 4." 
 
 ** Who in these lines may better claim a part." 
 
 72. "Elegy 1." 
 
 *' Sitting at board, sometimes, prepar'd to eat." 
 
 73. "Sonnet^:' 
 
 *' Wake, Pity, wake; for thou hast slept too long." 
 
 74. "Ode 1." 
 ** Passion may thy judgment blear." 
 
 75. "Madrigal 1. To Cupid:' 
 ** Love, if a God thou art." 
 
 76. "Madrigal 2:' 
 ** In health and ease am I." 
 
 * This, in the edition of 1602, has the signature of Jnonymous. 
 t Has the signature of Anonymvus in edition l609. 
 
fltberttdrmcnt 11 
 
 77. " Madrigal 3r 
 
 ** Sorrow slowly kUleth any." 
 
 78. ** Madrigol 4:- 
 
 ** Sine* I your cherry Up* did kiu." 
 
 79. **0de2r 
 
 ** Lady, yoo are with bcaatie* to cnrich'd." 
 
 80. '*0de3r 
 
 ** Toor pwttpica braada my anguish." 
 
 81. *' Elegy 2r 
 ** My dcarcat Swaet, if thcM sad line* do hap." 
 
 92. ** Elegy 3." 
 ** Fountain of bliss, yet well-spring of my woe." 
 
 83. *' Elegy 4." 
 
 ** Clear np mine eyes, and dry yoorselTct, my lean." 
 
 84. "Elegy Sr 
 
 *' Bat yet of all tb« woea, that do torment me." 
 
 85. "Elegy 6." 
 
 ** I most confess, ankind, when I consider." 
 
 86. "Ekgyjr 
 
 ** Bnt when again, my cursed memory." 
 
 87. "Elegy 8."* 
 "Alas! my dear, if this you do derise." 
 
 88. "Ode4r 
 «• My only star." 
 
 89. " Madrigal hr 
 " The wretched life I live." 
 
 * Perhaps theae eight may rather be taken as parts of the same Elegy. 
 
12 ... . ^Ubfrtt^ement 
 
 90. ''Sonnet 6." 
 
 ** If Love conjoin'd with worth and great desert." 
 
 91. "Sonnet 7 y 
 
 " If your fond love want worth and great desert." 
 
 92. ''Ode 5." 
 
 •* Sweet, if you like and love me still." 
 
 93. "Odeer 
 
 ** I dare not in my master's bosom rest." 
 
 94. ''Oderr 
 
 ** Lady of matchless beauty." 
 
 95. "Ode 8." 
 
 ** Some there are as fair to see to." 
 
 96. ''Madrigal 6 r 
 
 " O hand, of all hands living." 
 
 97. "Madrigal 7 r 
 
 ** Ah, Cupid, I mistook thee." 
 
 98. " Sonnet Sr 
 Praise you those barren rhymes long since compos'd. 
 
 99. " Madrigal sr 
 ** Like to the seely fly." 
 
 100. "Madrigal 9 r 
 ** If I behold your eyes." 
 
 101. "Ode 9." 
 " In heaven the blessed angels have their being." 
 
 102. "Madrigal 10." 
 " Are lovers full of fire.>" 
 
 103. "Madrigal 11." 
 
 " If this most wretched and infernal anguish." 
 
aDbfrtljJrmtnt 13 
 
 104. *' Upon seeing his Face in her eye." 
 ** Fkircst *nd kindest of all woman kind." 
 
 105. ** Madrigal 12." 
 ** Go, wailinf accents, go." 
 
 106. *' Madrigal 13." 
 ** WhoMcrer loofs to try." 
 
 107. "J Dialogue," *c. 
 *< Shot not, sweet breast, to see me all of ire." 
 
 lOe. ** Elegy." 
 ** Dtar, why bath my long Iotc, and faith tinfeif n'd." 
 
 109. "Sonnet." 
 " Worthily, fiunooi Lord, whose rirtues rare.'* 
 
 110. " To Samuel Daniel, Prince of English Poets. 
 ** Olympia's matchless son, when as he knew." 
 
 111. " Three Epitaphs on a rare Child." 
 '* Wit's perfection. Beauty's wonder." 
 
 1 12. " Imcriptionfor the Statue of Dido." 
 ** O moct unhappy Dido." 
 
 FnacU Davison. 
 
 More SonnetSy Odes, ^c. p. 118. 
 
 113. *' Sonnet 1/' 
 
 Let not, sweet Saint, let not these lines offend you. 
 
 114. ** Sonnet 2." 
 
 ** Bat if my lines may not be held excused." 
 
 115. '* Sonnet 3." 
 
 ** Fair is thy face, and great thy wit's perfection." 
 
14 ^tbertt^ement. 
 
 116. ''Sonnet 4." 
 ** I bend my wit, but wit cannot devise." 
 
 117. "Odeir 
 ** As she is fair, so faithful I." 
 
 118. *' Sonnet 5r 
 
 ** Reason and Love lately at strife contended." 
 
 119. " Sonnet 6r 
 
 ** Let fate, my fortune, and my stars conspire." 
 
 120. ''Sonnet 7." 
 
 ** What need I say, how it doth wound my breast?" 
 
 121. " Sonnet Sr 
 
 ** Sweet, to my cursed life some favour shew." 
 
 122. "Ode 2." 
 " At her fair hands how have I grace intreated?" 
 
 123. "Sonnet 9." (misnumhered 7 .) 
 *' I have intreated, and I have complained." 
 
 124. " Sonnet lor C^cJ 
 '* Wounded with grief, I weep, and sigh, and plain." 
 
 125. " Sonnet lir 
 
 ** Oft do I plain, and she my plaint doth read." 
 
 126. "Sonnet 12." 
 
 " Like a sea-tossed bark, with tackling spent." 
 
 127. "Elegy. To his Lady, who had vowed Virginity. 
 ** E'en as my hand my pen and paper lays." 
 
 128. "Sonnet 13." 
 
 ** How can my love in equity be blamed.''" 
 
 129. "Sonnet 14." 
 
 ** Must my devoted heart desist to love her.'" 
 
atJbrrtidfmmt 15 
 
 130. ** Quid pluma levius?'' 8(c. fFour lines translated. J 
 ** Duct U lighter than a feather." 
 
 Walter Daviaon. 
 
 Fourth Divinon — SormetSy Odes, Elegies and 
 . other Poesies y p. 133. 
 
 131. " Three Sonnets for a Proem. Sonnet 1." 
 ** Some meo, they say, arc poet« bora by kind." 
 
 ISi. "Sotmei^r 
 
 ** What iao?'d me then? Say, Lott, for thon canst tell." 
 
 133. '* Sonnet 3." 
 " Thos am I free from Uws, that other bind." 
 
 134. *'Ode 1." 
 "Sweet Lore, mine only treasure." 
 
 135. *♦ To her Etfes." 
 ** Fain would 1 learn of thee, thou murdcrinf eye." 
 
 136. **OdeSLr 
 ** Aa soon may water wipe me dry." 
 
 137. " Love the only Price of Love." 
 ** The fiur«iC pearls that northera seas do breed." 
 
 138. " His Heart arraigned of Theft, and acquitted." 
 ** My heart was found within my lady's breast." 
 
 139. "Madrigal 1." 
 •• Thine eyes so bright." 
 
 140 ** Phaleuciacs 1." 
 «Time nor place did I want: what held me tongue-tied?" 
 
 141. *' Deadly sweetness." 
 ** Sweet thoughts, the food on which I feeding starre." 
 
16 ^Dbcrtigfment. 
 
 142. '' Madrigal 2r 
 ** If Love be made of words, as woods of trees." 
 
 143. " Ladies Eyes serve Cupid both for Darts and Fire. 
 ** Oft have I mus'd the cause to find." 
 
 144. '^Love's Contrarieties." 
 ** I smile sometimes amidst my greatest ^rief." 
 
 145. ''Ode 3." 
 *' Desire and Hope have mov'd my mind." 
 
 146. ''Madrigals:' 
 *' She only is the pride of Nature's skill." 
 
 147- "Her outward gesture deceiving his inward hope." 
 *' Smooth are thy looks; so is the deepest stream." 
 
 148. "Phaleuciacs 2." 
 ** How, or where have I lost myself.'' Unhappy!" 
 
 149. " L' Envoy in rhyming Phaleuciacs." 
 *' Muse not. Lady, to read so strange a metre." 
 
 150. "Sonnet 4." 
 " Wrong'd by Desire, I yielded to Disdain." 
 
 151. " That he is unchangeable." 
 ** The love of change hath chang'd the world throughout." 
 
 152. " To his Eyes." 
 ** Unhappy eyes, the causers of my grief." 
 
 153. " Ode 4." 
 '* The night, say all, was made for rest." 
 
 154. " Upon her Absence." 
 ** The siunmer sun, that scalds the ground vdth heat." 
 
 155. "Ode 5." 
 '* When will the fountain of my tears be dry?" 
 
aDberttgcment 17 
 
 156. " The Lover's absence Kills me, her presence Cures me." 
 " The frosen tnake opprest with heaped snow." 
 
 157. "(We6." 
 
 '* If my dccmy be your iDcrease." 
 
 158. **0de7' 
 
 " Clot yoar ltd*, unhappy eyes." 
 
 159. " Cupid shoots light, but wounds sore." 
 ** Cnpid, at length, 1 spy thy crafty wile." 
 
 160. *' Paraphrase of Petrarch's \03d Sonnet:' 
 ** li LoTc be nothing but an idle name." 
 
 161. **Fair Face and hard Heart." 
 " Fair is thy face, and that thou knowest too well." 
 
 162. "Ode 8." 
 ** Dudain that so doth fill me." 
 
 163, *'^» Invective against Love." 
 ** .\11 is not gold that thineth bright in show." 
 
 164. *'Onan Historical Poem of Brute." 
 ** My wantoo Hose, that whilom wont to sing." 
 
 165. •* Upon his Lady's buying Strings for her Lute.'^ 
 " In happy time the wished Fair is come." 
 
 166. •' Care will not let him live, nor Hope let him die." 
 '• My heavy heart with grief and hope torment." 
 
 167. **0de9:' 
 ** A new-found match is made of late." 
 
 168. '*Ode 10." 
 *< If Love be life, I long to die." 
 
 169. ** In praise of the Sun." 
 ** The golden Sun, that brings the day." 
 
18 ^tbmijsemetrt. 
 
 iro. ''Ode 11." 
 
 " Rest, good my Muse, and give me leave to rest." 
 
 171. ''Death in Lover 
 " Mine eyes have spent their tears, and now are dry." 
 
 172. " Break, heavy Heartr 
 
 ** Break, heavy heart, and rid me of my psun." 
 
 173. ''Desire's Government.*' 
 " Where Wit is overrul'd by Will." 
 
 174. "Love's Properties." 
 " 'Twixt heat and cold, 'twixt death and life." 
 
 175. '' A living Death." 
 ** If means be none to end my restless care." 
 
 176. " The Passionate Prisoner." 
 •' Ye walls that shut me up from sight of men." 
 
 177. " Hopeless Desire soon withers and dies." 
 ** Though naked trees seem dead to sight." 
 
 178. "Ode 12." 
 " Nay, nay, thou striv'st in vain, my heart." 
 
 179. "Phaleuciacs 3." 
 " Wisdom warns me to shun that once I sought for." 
 
 180. "Ode 13." 
 ** Now have I leam'd with much ado at last." 
 
 181. "Being scorn' d and disdain' d, he inveighs against 
 
 his Lady." 
 
 ** Since just disd^n began to rise." 
 
 182. "Ode 14." 
 ** When Venus. saw Desire must die." 
 
 183. "An Altar and Sacrifice to Disdain." 
 " My Muse Jby thee restor'd to life." 
 
•^IDbertigcmcnt. 
 
 Certain other Poems upon diverse SubjectSy by the 
 same Author, p. 178. 
 
 t84. *'Ode\. From Anacreonr 
 ** Of Atreoa sons ^in wonld I write." 
 
 185. " Ode 2. From the same." 
 " The bull by Nature hath his horns." 
 
 186. " Ode 3. From the samer 
 
 ** Of late, what time the Bear tnrn'd round." 
 
 187- ** Anacr eon's second Ode, otherwise." 
 ** Nature in her work doth give." 
 
 T. S. 
 
 188. ** Anacreon's third Ode, otherwise."* 
 ** Cupid abroad, was lated in the night." 
 
 189. '* Natural comparisons with perfect Love." 
 ** The lowest trees have tops, the ant her gall." 
 
 190. " That Love is unlike in Beggars and in Kings" 
 •* Compare the Bramble with the Cedar tree." 
 
 191. "A Song in praise of a Beggar's Life." 
 '* Bright shines the sun, plaj Beggars play." 
 
 192. " Upon beginning without making an end." 
 ** Begin, and half is done, jet half undone remains." 
 
 193. " An Epigram to Sir Philip Sydney." 
 ** Cambridge, worthy Philip, by this verse builds thee an altar." 
 
 194. ** Hexameters. Upon Sir Philip Sydney." 
 ** What can I now suspect.' or, what can I fear any longer .'" 
 
 195. ** Another upon the same." 
 '* What strange adventure? what now uuUxik'd for arrival?" 
 
 From " Rohm Onrme'i Orpkmriam. 
 
20 ... . ^iJberttgement. 
 
 196. " Others upon the same." 
 ** Whom can I first accuse } whose fault account I the greatest?" 
 
 197. '' To Timer 
 ** Eternal Time, that wasteth without waste." 
 
 198^ *' A Meditation upon the frailty of this Life." 
 
 ** O trifling toys, that toss the brains." 
 
 199. "A Dialogue between the Soul and Body." 
 " Ah me, poor Soul, whom bound in sinful chains." 
 
 200. *' Sapphics. Upon the Passion of Christ." 
 
 *' Hatred eternal, furious revenging." 
 
 Fifth Division— - Diverse Poems of sundry Authors, 
 p. 191. 
 
 201. '^ A Hymn in praise of Music." 
 ** Praise, Pleasure, Profit, is that threefold band." 
 
 " Ten Sonnets to Philomel." 
 
 202. "Sonnet 1." 
 
 *' Oft did I hear, our eyes the passage were.* 
 
 203. ''Sonnets.." 
 
 *' O why did Fame my heart to Love betray." 
 
 204. " Sonnet ^r 
 
 ** Sickness intending my love to betray." 
 
 205. ''Sonnets." 
 
 •* Pale Death himself did love my Philomel." 
 
 206. ''Sonnets." 
 
 ** My love is sail'd, against dislike to fight." 
 
fRtbertWf mcnt 25 
 
 207. *' Sonnets." 
 
 " Once did my Pbilomel reflect on me." 
 
 208. *' Sonnet 7" 
 
 ** When time nor pUce would let me often riew." 
 
 209. ** Sonnets:' 
 
 ** When M the ran eclipsed is, some saj." 
 
 210. *' Sonnet 9." 
 
 ** It you would know the love which I you bear." 
 
 211. "Sonnet 10." 
 
 ** My cruel dear haring captir'd my heart." 
 
 J. D. 
 
 212. " A Hymn in praise of Neptune.'* 
 
 ** Of Neptune's empire let us sing." 
 
 * Tltoim* Campion. 
 
 213. " Of his Mutress's Face.' 
 ** And would yoa sec my mistrc«»* Ibcc?*' 
 
 214. " Upon her Paleness" 
 ** Blame not my cheeks, though pale with love they be." 
 
 Tbomsi Campion. 
 
 215. «' Of Corinna 's Sinpng." 
 ** When to her lute Corinna sings." 
 
 Thomas Campion. 
 
 216. " j1 Dialogue bettcixt the Lover and his Lady" 
 ** Lady, my flame still burning." 
 
 217. "Her Answer." 
 ** Sweet Lord, your flame still burning." 
 
 Ignoto. 
 
 218. "An Elegy." 
 
 " O &ithless world, and thy most faithless part." 
 
 H. W. 
 219. 
 ** Conceit begotten by the eyes." 
 
 W. R. 
 
26 ^tibcrtt^cment. 
 
 220. " Madrigal r 
 •* Faustina hath the fairer face." 
 
 221. ''To his Lady's Garden:' 
 ** Garden more than Eden blessed." 
 
 222. " Upon his Lady's Sickness of the Small Pox.** 
 ** Cruel and unpartial sickness." 
 
 Thomas Spilman. 
 
 223. '' A Reporting Sonnet:' 
 " Her face, her tongue, her wit, so fair, so sweet, so sharp." 
 
 224. "Sonnet:' 
 *• Only, sweet Love, aflFord me but thy heart." 
 
 225. ''Ode:' 
 "Absence, hear thou my protestation." 
 
 226. " The true Love Knot:' 
 ** Love is the link, the knot, the band of unity." 
 
 Ignoto. 
 
 227. "Sonnet:' 
 
 **Best pleas'd she is, when Love is most exprest." 
 
 228. "Sonnet:- 
 
 ** When a weak child is sick, and out of quiet." 
 
 229. "Sonnet:' 
 
 ** Were I as base as is the lowly plain." 
 
 J. S. 
 
 230. "Madrigal:' 
 
 ** My Love in her attire doth shew her wit." 
 
 231. "A Poem:' 
 
 *' When I to you of all my woes complain." 
 
 F. D. 
 
 232. "Sonnet:- 
 ** The Poets fain that when the world began." 
 
 J. S. 
 
fttJbcrtigcmcnt 27 
 
 233. "An Invective against Women" 
 
 ** Are women fair? I, wond'rout fair to tee to." 
 
 Ignnto. 
 
 234. "An Elegy in Trimeter Iambics.'* 
 
 ** Unhappy rerte, the witneM of my oohappy state." 
 
 Edmund S|>enM;r. 
 
 «35. "Son/If/ 
 
 " Mine eye with all the deadly tin* it fraoght." 
 
 H. C. 
 «J36. "Sonnetr 
 
 ** Te titter Matct, do not ye repine." 
 
 H. C. 
 
 «37. "Ode." 
 ** TIm andcnt readers of Hearen't Book." 
 
 238. "Song." 
 ** Who five* a gift to bind a friend thereby." 
 
 239. 
 •< Now what U Ure, I pray thee UU?" 
 
 940. 
 
 ** In Tain I lire, sith sorrow lives in me." 
 
 241. "A Poem." 
 *' If wrong by force bad j astice put to flight." 
 
 242. 
 ** If stepdame Nature have been scant." 
 
 243. 
 ** Death is my doom, awarded by Disdain." 
 
 244. 
 
 ** Though late my heart, yet turn at last." 
 
 It may be convenient in this place to give the 
 Title-pages of the several Editions, that their variations 
 may be seen. 
 
28 ^tibmi^cment. 
 
 A 
 
 POETICAL RHAPSODY: 
 
 CONTAINING 
 
 DIVERSE SONNETS, ODES, ELEGIES, 
 MADRIGALS, AND OTHER POESIES. 
 
 BOTH IN 
 
 RHYME AND MEASURED VERSE. 
 
 Never yet published. ' 
 
 The Bee and Spider by a diverse power 
 
 Suck honey and poison from the self-same flower. 
 
 PRINTED AT LONDON BY V. S. FOR JOHN BARLY, AND ARE 
 
 TO BE SOLD AT HIS SHOP IN CHANCERY LANE, NEAR TO THE 
 
 OFFICE OF THE SIX CLARKS. 
 
 1602. 
 
 The first Edition (1602) is a l6mo. and the only copy I ever heard 
 
 of is the one in the collection of the late Mr. Malone, who 
 
 obtained it, I believe, from the Pearson collection. 
 
 It is not perfect. J. H. 
 
 For the second Edition (1608,) the Reader is referred to the 
 old Title-page of the present Volume. 
 
aUbftti^fmcnt 29 
 
 POETICAL. RHAPSODY: 
 
 CONTAINING 
 
 ODES, ELEGIES, MADRIGALS, EPIGRAMS, 
 PASTORALS, ECLOGUES, 
 
 WITH 
 
 OTHER POEMS; 
 
 BOTH IN 
 
 RHYME AND MEASURED VERSE. 
 
 Ftr Variety and Pttatmrt, the lik* never yet publithed. 
 
 Tkc Bet aad Spider bjr • dhrcrac power 
 
 Sock hoacy and peiaon horn the iclf-tame flower. 
 
 KBWLT COBRSCTKD AND AUGMENTKO. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 PBINTED BY WILLIAM STANSBY^ FOB BOGBB JACKSON, 
 DWELLING IN FLEET STREET, NEAB THE GREAT CONDUIT. 
 
 1611. 
 
30 . . . ^Dberti^ement 
 
 JDAVISON'S POEMSi 
 
 OR 
 
 DIVIDED INTO SIX BOOKS: 
 
 THE FIRST, CONTAINING POEMS AND DEVICES. 
 
 THE SECOND, SONNETS AND CANZONETS. 
 
 «HE THIRD, PASTORALS AND ELEGIES. 
 
 THE FOURTH, MADRIG.\LS AND ODES. 
 
 THE FIFTH, EPIGRA]\IS AND EPITAPHS. 
 
 THE SIXTH, EPISTLES AND EPITHALAMIONS. 
 
 For Variety and Pleasure, the like never published. 
 
 The Bee and Spider by a diverse power 
 
 Suck honey and poison from the self-same flower. 
 
 THE FOURTH IMPRESSION, 
 
 Newlt/ corrected and augtnented, ajid put into' a form more 
 pleasing to the Reader. 
 
 LONDON : 
 
 PRINTED BY B. A. FOR ROGER JACKSON. 
 1621. 
 
aDbfrtignnent 31 
 
 The fourth Edition is divided under the 
 following heads, thus 
 
 1. Poems,' 17 in number. | 7. Madrigals, 23. 
 
 2. Devices, 15. | 8. Odes, 32. 
 
 3. Sonnets, 52. X 9. Ejgprams, 27. 
 
 4. Canzonets, 51. | 10. Epitaphs, 3. 
 
 5. Pastorals, 10. 111. EpisUe^, 7- 
 G, Elegies^ 6. \ 
 
 Besides, at the hack of the Table of Con- 
 tents two Epithalainions. 
 
 " A short Contents of all the Six Books 
 contained in this volume,'' (viz. Edition 1621.) 
 
 The first Book containing Poems and Devices, begins 
 
 at folio 1 to folio 62. 
 The second Book of Sonnets and Canzonets, begins at 
 
 folio 62 to 150. 
 The third Book of Pastorals and Elegies^ begins at 
 
 folio 150 to 205. 
 The fourth Book of Madrigals and Odes, begins at 
 
 folio 205 to folio 255. 
 The fifth Book of Epigrams and Epitaphs, begins at 
 
 folio 25*5 to folio 266. 
 The sixth Book of Epistles, begins at fol. 266 to fol. 272. 
 And Epithalamions begin before folio 1 . 
 
 * This word appears to have been adopted for those which not 
 coming under any of the other heads, might hare been more properly 
 termed MUceUanfOM* PoevM. 
 
32 atbctti^emtttt. 
 
 The reprint of most of the old Miscellanies 
 of English Poetry, which appeared between 
 1550 and 1610, all of which had become in- 
 accessibly rare, must be admitted to be an ac- 
 ceptable contribution to our old literature. 
 The ^'Paradise of Dainty Devises,'' and ''^Eng- 
 land's Helicon,'' were appended to " The Bri- 
 tish Bibliographer," and a few impressions 
 were at the same time taken off separately in 
 4to. '' Proctor's Gorgeous Gallery of Gal- 
 lant Inventions" 1578. Clement Robinson's 
 " Handefull of Pleasant Delites," 1584, and 
 ''The Phoenix Nest," 1593, form the three 
 parts of " Heliconia" — " Tottell's Miscellany^' 
 containing the poems of Surrey, Wyatt, and 
 others, is about to re-appear with splendour, 
 aided by the industrious and learned researches 
 of Dr. Nott. " Ens:land's Parnassus" — 
 " The Belvidere" and many others, are pre- 
 paring for future parts of " Heliconia" by Mr. 
 Park, who has admirably edited the three for- 
 mer parts. Mr. Haslewood is also preparing 
 a select collection of the "Songs, Madrigals, 
 
^Dbertigemcnt 33 
 
 and Canzonets^ ot those days: compositions 
 of which many are simple and elegant. 
 
 All, or nearly all, these treasures, in their 
 originals, were consulted both by the late 
 Bishop Percy in forming his collection of 
 ^^ Ancient Ballads,'' and by Mr. George Ellis, 
 in selecting his "Specimens ofeatly English 
 Poetry:' two works of the most exquisite 
 taste and elegance, which have contributed 
 beyond all others,* in exciting and cherishing 
 the present very laudable fondness for our 
 poetical antiquities. 
 
 But as this curiosity grows more ardent 
 
 and more enlarged, mere extracts or specimens 
 
 are not sufficient : the reader is desirous to see 
 
 every part of a work together, and to form his 
 
 judgment from the combination of the whole. 
 
 The gratitude which this subject owes to 
 the late Joseph Ritson is of a different kind. His 
 extraordinary industry and minute attention 
 were calculated to effect services not altogether 
 
 • Mrs. Cooper's **Mtuet' Library y" 173^, aod Ha3rward'8 ** Bri- 
 tuk Mute," 1738, of both which the real compiler was ^FiUiam Oidy*, 
 were early and judicious attempts to rerire our old Poetry. I 
 
34 ^iJbcrti^cmettt 
 
 to be despised as without use ; but his excessive 
 self-conceit^ generating, (as it seems to have been 
 regenerated by) a bitter and malignant temper^ 
 unsoftened by any of the higher degrees of 
 education, or any ray of the more elevated 
 qualities of intellectual endowment, rendered 
 him an author, or critic, or rather compiler, of 
 so offensive a cast, that it is difficult to turn 
 over his volumes without disgust, or tempo- 
 rary alienation from the pursuit which they 
 are intended to illustrate. Their inelegance, 
 their dryness, their ignorant affectation, their 
 blind presumption, draw a ridicule and dis- 
 grace upon the investigation of the literary 
 amusements of our ancestors. Still his ^'Bib- 
 llogrnphia Poet lea'' is valuable as a mere book 
 of reference : but it is surprising, that having 
 waded with so much labour through such a 
 multitude of rare works, he could refrain from 
 illuminating his dead pages with a single ex- 
 tract of poetical ornament, or a single hint of 
 biographical information. It seems as if he 
 gloried in dullness ; and thought that moral 
 
aDbcttisement 35 
 
 knowledge was nonsense ; that sentiment was 
 weakness ; and imagination folly. After all^ 
 perhaps, these perversities were incurable, and 
 may have arisen from mental disease : for can- 
 dour may plead that they were the incipient 
 operations of that melancholy insanity, of 
 which the last paroxisms terminated his life 
 in a few weeks. 
 
 The poetical antiquities of Scotland owe 
 much to the late Lord Hailes, to Mr. Pinker- 
 ton, Mr. George Chalmers, Mr. Sibbald; and 
 to the copious genius, as well as sagacious in- 
 dustry and knowledge, of Mr. Walter Scott, 
 and scarcely less to the late lamented and de- 
 lightful author Dr. John Ley den. 
 
ixci3i©i32aer^(9N ®© va^^. i. 
 
 ERHAPS such Miscellanies, 
 lis * Davison's Rhapsody y' are 
 better evidence of the popu- 
 lar taste in poetry, which 
 prevailed when they were first published, 
 than the work of any single author, 
 however eminent. Almost all the pieces 
 of the present Collection partake more 
 of a moral, than a picturesque or roman- 
 tic cast. They seem to be, for the most 
 part, the intellectual amusements of men 
 engaged in busy life, who occasionally 
 vented the reflections they had gathered, 
 through the vehicle of metre. 
 
 In Sir John Davies there is great 
 subtlety of thought, and admirable per- 
 spicuity and terseness of language; but 
 he deals rather in the efforts of the head, 
 than of the heart or the fancy. The 
 
38 JnttoUuction. 
 
 Ten Sonnets, which on the authority of 
 the initials are ascribed to him, were 
 perhaps John Donne's, or some other 
 poet's: they partake too much of the 
 character of the Italian conceit, to au- 
 thorize us to ascribe them, with any con- 
 fidence, to this strong-minded Lawyer. 
 
 There is more of poetry in some of 
 the Lyrical Pieces; especially those of 
 Thomas Campion, and the three valuable 
 Pastorals of the Countess of Pembroke, 
 and her brother Sir Philip Sydney. 
 
 The Sonnets of Thomas Watson 
 are all to be found in his ' Hecatompathia,' 
 and have been fuUv criticized in the 
 ' British Bibliographer,^ They are too 
 full of all the faults, without any of the 
 merits, of the Petrarchian school, to be 
 the favourites of a pure and natural 
 taste. 
 
 There prevailed at this period a pe- 
 
I-ntroDuftion. .... 39 
 
 ciiliar species of Pastoral Song, of which 
 the happier productions exhibit an ex- 
 quisite naivete and simplicity that has 
 never since been reached, or even at- 
 tempted. Of this a very charming spe- 
 men is to be found at p. 17, in the Fie- 
 tioHj beginning 
 
 '* It cbanc'd of late a Shepherd's swain." 
 
 I suspect, for reasons which hereafter I 
 may dilate upon, that this beautiful poem 
 was Sir Walter Raleigh's: G. Eltis, 
 however, has printed it in his third vol. 
 p. 17j as Francis Davison's; whose 
 right to it, I think, I shall be able satis- 
 factorily to disprove.* I do not think 
 that I can fix upon any thing in all 
 '^Davison's Rhapsody'' equal to this. 
 
 Ellis justly observes that " the ly- 
 
 ' In " Dryden"$ Miscellany ,"' iv. 247, it is ascribed to 
 Sydney Godolphin; who was not born when it was first 
 published. 
 
40 ... . introduction. 
 
 rical compositions of this time are so far 
 from being usually marked mth a faulty 
 negligence, that excess of ornament, and 
 laboured affectation, are their charac- 
 teristic blemishes. Such as are free from 
 conceit and antithesis, are, in general, 
 exquisitely polished, and may safely be 
 compared with the most elegant and 
 finished specimens of modem poetry." 
 
 Whoever, indeed, looks to the com- 
 positions of this period for that burst of 
 natural and unrestrained fire, or that 
 flow of genuine and unsought sentiment, 
 which might seem to belong to the un- 
 schooled energy of a youthful stage of 
 literature, will, with the exception of 
 Spenser, and occasional passages in the 
 Dramatic Writers, not find it in the poets 
 of the Elizabethan sera. 
 
 If, however, we would read true 
 poetry in all its enchantment of imagery 
 
l:ntcot)urtiou 41 
 
 and expression, we must take it from this 
 precise date, and from the great author 
 whom I have already named, the im- 
 mortal Bard of the * Fairy Queen.'' It 
 may seem impolitic to put into com- 
 petition with minor lights, such splendors 
 as that poet puts forth. Yet I cannot 
 refrain from bringing into present view 
 a picture of one, who, I suspect, is more 
 praised than read. 
 
 FROM "THE FAIRY QUEEN," B. lU. Canto u. 
 
 The Ma»k of Cupid, and the display qf the Enchanted 
 Chamber, whence Bnt(miart releases Amoret. 
 
 Tho*, whenas cheerless Night ycover'd had 
 Fair heaven with an universal cloud. 
 That every wight, dismay 'd with darkness sad, 
 In silence and in sleep themselves did shroud. 
 She heard a shrilling trumpet sound aloud. 
 Sign of nigh battle, or got victory: 
 Nought therewith daunted was her courage proud. 
 But rather stir'd to cruel enmity. 
 
 Expecting ever when some foe she might descry. 
 
 With that, an hideous storm of wind arose. 
 With dreadful thunder and lightning atwixt. 
 
42 ... . 3Entrotiuction. 
 
 And an earthquake, as if it straight would lose 
 The world's foundations from his centre fixt: 
 A direful stench of smoke and sulphur mixt 
 Ensued, whose noyance fill'd the fearful sted 
 From the fourth hour of night until the sixth; 
 Yet the bold Britoness was nought yd read. 
 Though much immov'd, but stedfast still persevered. 
 
 All suddenly a stormy whirlwind blew 
 
 Throughout the house, that clapped every door. 
 
 With which that iron wicket open flew. 
 
 As it with mighty levers had been torej 
 
 And forth issued, as on the ready floor 
 
 Of some theatre, a grave personage. 
 
 That in his hand a branch of laurel bore, 
 
 AVith comely haveour and count'nance sage, 
 
 Yclad in costly garments, fit for tragic stage. 
 
 Proceeding to the midst, he still did stand. 
 As if in mind he somewhat had to say; 
 And to the vulgar beck'ning with his hand. 
 In sign of silence, £is to hear a play. 
 By lively actions he 'gan bewray- 
 Some argument of matter passioned; 
 WTiich done, he back retired soft away. 
 And, passing by, his name discovered. 
 
 Ease, on his robe in golden letters cyphered. 
 
 The noble Maid still standing all this view'd. 
 And marvel'd at this strange intendiment; 
 With that a joyous fellowship issued 
 Of minstrels, making goodly merriment. 
 
Sntroturtton 43 
 
 With wanton bards, and rhymers impudent^ 
 All which together sung full cheerfully 
 A lay of Love's delight with sweet concent: 
 After whom march'd a jolly company. 
 In manner of a Mask, enranged orderly. 
 
 The whiles a most delicious harmony 
 
 In fiiU strange notes was sweetiy heard to sounds 
 
 That the rare sweetness of the melody 
 
 The feeble senses wholly did confountl. 
 
 And the frail soul in deep delight nigh drown'd: 
 
 And, when it ceas'd, shrill trumpets loud did bray. 
 
 That their report did far away rebound; 
 
 And, when they ceas'd, it 'gan again to play. 
 
 The whiles the Maskers marched forth in trim array. 
 
 The first was Fancy, like a lovely boy. 
 Of rare aspect and beauty without peer, 
 Matchable either to that imp of Troy, 
 Whom Jove did love, and chose his cup to bear; 
 Or that same dainty lad, which was so dear 
 To great Alcidet, that, whenas he died. 
 He wailed, womanlike, with many a tear. 
 And every wood and every valley wide 
 
 He fiU'd with HyUu name; the nymphs eke HyUu cry'd. 
 
 His garment neither was of silk nor say. 
 But painted plumes, in goodly order dight. 
 Like as the sun-burnt Indians do array 
 Their tawny bodies in their proudest plight: 
 As those same plumes, so seem'd he vain and light. 
 That by his gait might easily appear; 
 
44 ... . 3Entrot)uctton. 
 
 For still he far'd as dancing in delight. 
 And in his hand a windy fan did bear. 
 That in the idle air he mov'd still here and there. 
 
 And him beside march'd amorous Desire, 
 
 AVho seem'd of riper years than th' other swain; 
 
 Yet was that other swain this elder's sire. 
 
 And gave him being, common to the twain: 
 
 His garment was disguised very vain. 
 
 And his embroidered bonnet sat awry: 
 
 'Twixt both his hands few sparks he close did strain, 
 
 WTiich still he blew and kindled busily. 
 That soon they life conceiv'd, and forth in flames did fly. 
 
 Next after him went Doubt, who was yclad 
 In a discolour'd coat of strange disguise. 
 That at his back a broad capuccio had. 
 And sleeves dependant Albanese-wisej 
 He look'd askew with his mistrustful eyes. 
 And nicely trod, as thorns lay in his way. 
 Or that the floor to shrink he did avisej 
 And on a broken reed he still did stay 
 
 His feeble steps, which shrunk when hard thereon he lay. 
 
 With him went Danger, cloth'd in ragged weed 
 Made of bear's skin, that him more dreadful made; 
 Yet his own face was dreadful, ne did need 
 Strange horror to deform his grisly shade; 
 A net in th' one hand, and a rusty blade 
 In th' other was; this Mischief, that Mishap; 
 With th' one his foes he threatened to invade. 
 
I'ntrot)uctton 45 
 
 With th' other he his friends meant to enwrap: 
 For wliom he could not kill he practis'd to entrap. 
 
 Next him, was Fear, all arm'd from top to toe. 
 Yet thought himself not safe enough thereby. 
 But fear'd each shadow moving to or froj 
 And his own arms when glittering he did spy. 
 Or clashing heard, he fast away did fly, 
 As ashes pale of hue, and winged heel'd; 
 And evermore on Danger fixt hb eye. 
 Gainst whom he always bent a brazen shield. 
 
 Which his right hand unarmed fearfully did wield. 
 
 Such poetry as this will account for 
 the very higli fame to which Spenser rose 
 at once, and from which he has never 
 since declined. It unites all the various 
 charms of poetical thought, and poetical 
 execution: in addition to its primary 
 qualities, all the minor excellences of 
 skill and artifice are here attained. 
 
 After such an admirable example of 
 the powers of this sublime Art, it seems 
 at first surprising, that the efforts of the 
 Muse, which immediately follow, should 
 
46 ... . Introtuftion. 
 
 have fallen back into a style so tasteless, 
 crude, and repulsive. "After the 'Fairy 
 Quee?i," says Warton, in his 'Observa- 
 tions on Spenser,' "Allegory began to 
 decline, and by degrees gave place to a 
 species of Poetry, whose images were of 
 the metaphysical and abstracted kind. 
 This fashion evidently took its rise from 
 the predominant studies of the times, in 
 which the disquisitions of school-divinity, 
 and the perplexed subtleties of philoso- 
 phic disputation, became the principal 
 pursuits of the learned. 
 
 * Then Una fair gan drop her princely mien.' '' 
 
 " Allegory, notwithstanding, unex- 
 pectedly rekindled some faint strokes of 
 its native splendor in the ' Purple Island' 
 of Fletcher, *" with whom it almost as 
 
 ^ Mason's ^ Musceus.' 
 ^ " Printed in the year 1630. The principal fault of 
 this poem is, that the Author has discovered too much of 
 
Introtuction 47 
 
 soon disappeared: when a poetry suc- 
 ceeded, in which imagination gave way 
 to correctness; sublimity of description 
 to delicacy of sentiment; and majestic 
 imagination to conceit and epigram. 
 Poets began now to be more attentive 
 to words, than to things and objects. 
 The nicer beauties of happy expression 
 were preferred to the daring strokes of 
 great conception. Satire, that bane of 
 Uie sublime, was imported from France. 
 
 the anatomist. The ' Purple hland ' is the Isle of Man, 
 whose parts and construction the Poet has described in an 
 Allegorical manner : viz. the bones are the foundation of 
 it, the veins its brooks, itc. Afterwards the intellectual 
 faculties are represented as persons: but he principally 
 shines, where he personifies the passions and evil concu- 
 piscences of the heart, who attack the good qualities of the 
 heart alike personified, which, under the conduct of their 
 leader. Intellect, rout the former. In this poem there is 
 too somewhat of a metaphysical turn. As the whole is 
 supposed to be sung by two shepherds, the Poet has found 
 an opportunity of adorning the beginnings and endings of 
 his cantos with some very pleasing pastoral touches. The 
 poem seems to bear some resemblance to the * Psychoma- 
 chia" of Phudbntius." 
 
48 . . . 3rntrol)uctton, 
 
 The Muses were debauched at Court, 
 and polite life, and familiar manners, 
 became their only themes. The simple 
 dignity of Milton was either entirely 
 neglected, or mistaken for bombast and 
 insipidity, by the refined readers of a 
 dissolute age, whose taste and morals 
 were equally vitiated/' 
 
 War ton then observes that, "Alle- 
 gorical Poetry, through many gradations, 
 at last received its ultimate consumma- 
 tion in 'The Fairy Queen,^ But he had 
 previously said, when speaking of 'The 
 Mirror for Magistrates^' of which he cen- 
 sures the generality of the pieces, as 
 little better than biographical detail, that 
 'there is one poem, among the rest, 
 which exhibits a group of imaginary 
 personages, so beautifully drawn, that in 
 all probability, they contributed to di- 
 rect, at least to stimulate, Spenser's 
 
{ntcotuction 49 
 
 imagination in the construction of the 
 like representations. Thus much may 
 be tnily said, that Sackville's 'Indue- 
 tion approaches nearer to 'The Favy 
 Queen,' than any previous or succeeding 
 poem/' 
 
 But surely this is not praise enough 
 for Sackville. Rich and beautiftil, 
 and picturesque as are the Allegorical 
 Figures of Spenser, I doubt if there be 
 not something more moral and sublime 
 in those of Sackville. He deals more 
 in those darker hues, in which great ge- 
 nius so much delights. And with this 
 opinion Wiarton himself seems to have 
 been fiilly impressed in the noble criti- 
 cism, with which he speaks of this pro- 
 duction in the third volume of his * His- 
 tory of Poetry,' in which he has given such 
 ample extracts in proof of his praises, 
 as will restrain me from repeating more 
 
50 ... . Inttotiuction. 
 
 than two or three stanzas, by way of 
 recalling the reader's recollection to the 
 tone of his astonishing conceptions, and 
 language. 
 
 He thus commences the description 
 of the imaginary Beings, that sat within 
 the Porch of Hell. 
 
 '' And, first, within the porch and jaws of hell. 
 Sat deep Remorse of Conscience, all besprent 
 With tears3 and to herself oft would she tell 
 Her wretchedness, and, cursing, never stent 
 To sob and sigh, but ever thus lanaent 
 With thoughtful carej as she that, all in vain. 
 Would wear and waste continually in pain: 
 
 Her eyes unstedfast, rolling here and there, 
 
 TMiirl'd on each place, as place that vengeance brought. 
 
 So was her mind continually in fear. 
 
 Tost and tormented with the tedious thought 
 
 Of those detested crimes which she had wrought^ 
 
 With dreadful cheer, and looks thrown to the sky. 
 
 Wishing for death, and yet she could not die. 
 
 Next, saw we Dread, all trembling how he shook. 
 With foot uncertain, profer'd here and there^ 
 Benumb'd with speech^ and, with a ghastly look. 
 Searched every place, all pale and dead for fear. 
 His cap borne up with staring of his hairj 
 
3EntroDuctton 51 
 
 'Stoiii'd and amaz'd at his own shade for dread, 
 And fearing greater dangers than was need. 
 
 And, next, within the entry of this lake. 
 Sat fell Revenge, gnashing her teeth for ire; 
 Devising means how she may vengeance take; 
 Never in rest, 'till she have her desire; 
 But frets within so far forth with the fire 
 Of wreaking flames, that now determines she 
 To die by death, or 'veng'd by death to be. 
 
 When fell Revenge, with bloody foul pretence. 
 Had show'd herself, as next in order set. 
 With trembling limbs we softly parteil thence, 
 'Tili in our eyes another sight we met; 
 When fro my heart a sigh forthwith I fet. 
 Ruing, alas! upon the woeful plight 
 Of Misery, that next appear'd in sight: 
 
 His face was lean, and some-deal pin'd away, 
 And eke his hands consumed to the bone; 
 But, what his body was, I cannot say. 
 For on his carcase raiment he had none. 
 Save clouts and patches pieced one by one; 
 With staff in hand, and scrip on shoulders cast; 
 His chief defence against the Winter's blast: 
 
 Hb food, for most, was wild fruits of the tree. 
 Unless sometime some cnims fell to his share, 
 WTiich in his wallet long, God wot, kept he. 
 As on the which full daint'ly would he fare; 
 His drink, the running stream; his cup, the bare 
 
52 ... . IiUrotuction. 
 
 Of his palm clos'd; his bed, the hard cold ground: 
 To this poor life was Misery ybouiid." 
 
 "These shadowy inhabitants of hell- 
 gate," says IFarton^ "are conceived with 
 the vigour of a creativ^e imagination, and 
 described with great force of expression. 
 They are delineated with that fullness of 
 proportion, that invention of pictviresque 
 attributes, distinctness, animation, and 
 amplitude, of which Spenser is com- 
 monly supposed to have given the first 
 specimens in our language, and which 
 are characteristical of his poetry. We 
 may venture to pronounce that Spen- 
 ser, at least, caught his manner of de- 
 signing allegorical personages from this 
 model, which so greatly enlarged the 
 former narrow bounds of our ideal ima- 
 gery, as that it may justly be deemed an 
 original in that style of painting." 
 
SntroOuction 53 
 
 Very few of Spenser's poetical suc- 
 cessors have either attempted this style, 
 or shewn a genius capable of attaining it. 
 Milton only rose above it by a cast of 
 invention still more shadowy and sublime. 
 I think, it was within the compass of 
 Cowley's jx)wers, though he too gene- 
 rally vitiated his taste and his perform- 
 ances by a pursuit of metaphysical glitter. 
 Then came, after a century, Thomson, 
 Collins, and Gray; of whom Thomson 
 wiis the most copious; Collins, the most 
 original, and, perhaps, the most pictur- 
 esque and felicitous; and Gray, the 
 most moi-al and sublime. 
 
 The reader may perhaps startle at 
 this praise of Cowley: but let him read 
 the ^ Hymn to Lights' one of the most 
 exquisite pieces in the whole body of 
 English Poetry; and the title to the sort 
 of genius, which I have ascribed to him. 
 
54 ... . lintroDuctton. 
 
 must be beyond all controversy. Hear 
 a few stanzas ! 
 
 " Night, and her ugly subjects thou dost fright,** 
 
 And Sleep, the lazy owl of Night j 
 
 Asham'd, and fearful to appear. 
 They screen their horrid shapes with the black hemisphere. 
 
 With 'em there hastes, and wildly takes the alarm. 
 
 Of painted dreams a busy swarmj 
 
 At the first opening of thine eye. 
 The various clusters break, the antic atoms fly. 
 
 The guilty serpent, and obscener beasts. 
 
 Creeps conscious to their secret rests: 
 Nature to those does reverence payj 
 
 111 omens, and ill sights removes out of thy way. 
 
 *^ Bishop Hurd has the following very just and 
 touching note on this stanza. 
 
 *' Night, and all her sickly dews. 
 Her spectres wan," &c. 
 
 Gray's Progress of Poesy. 
 
 * This excellent writer not unfrequently alludes to pas- 
 sages in Mr. Cowley, whose manners and genius much 
 resembled his own. Both charm us with the spleen of 
 virtuej and both were equally qualified by the gifts of 
 Nature, to adorn the nobler, and the more familiar poetry. 
 The taste, the execution, the success were happily on the 
 side of our late Poet.' Hurd. 
 
JntroDuction. ... 55 
 
 At thy appearance Grief itself is said 
 
 To shake his wings, and rouse his head; 
 And cloudy Care has often took 
 
 A gentle beainy smile, reflected from thy look.* 
 
 At thy appearance. Feat itself grows bold; 
 
 Thy sun-shine melts away his cold: 
 
 Encourag'd at the sight of thee. 
 To the cheek colour comes, and firmness to the knee. 
 
 Even Lust, the master of an harden'd face. 
 Blushes, if thou be'st in the place; 
 To Darkness' curtains he retires; 
 
 In sympathizing Night he rolls his smoky fires. 
 
 When, Goddess, thou lift'st up thy waken'd head. 
 Out of the Morning's purple bed, 
 The choir of birds about thee play. 
 
 And all the joyful world salutes the rising day. 
 
 The ghosts, and monster spirits, that did presume 
 
 A body's priviege to assume. 
 
 Vanish again invisibly. 
 And bodies gain again their visibility. 
 
 Ah, Goddess! would thou could'st thy hand withold. 
 And be less liberal to gold; 
 
 * I sliould tind it diflicult to ))oint out in any poet u 
 more perfect stanza than this. 
 
56 .. . I-nttolJurtiott. 
 
 Didst thou less value to it give. 
 Of how much care, alas! might' st thou poor man relieve! 
 
 To me the sun is more delightful far. 
 
 And all fair days much fairer are^ 
 But few, ah! wond'rous few there be, 
 
 Who do not gold prefer, O Goddess, e'en to thee."*^ 
 
 It is vain to think that study and 
 labour will make a poet. It is that force 
 of conception, and energy of sentiment, 
 that superior animation of the mental 
 powers, which Nature only can give. 
 Idle and half-witted people, who suppose 
 that Poetry is a trifling amusement of the 
 fa'ncy, fit only for women and children ! 
 Poetry, which is the mirror of the no- 
 blest emotions of the soul! Poetry, by 
 whose hght are displayed to us the most 
 
 ^ '" An inimitable stanza, in which the whole soul of the 
 poet comes out, and shines through the purest and clearest 
 expression: like one of the virgin-lilies he before celebrates, 
 
 * Clad with the lawn of almost naked light.' " 
 
 Hurd. 
 
3EntroDuftlon 57 
 
 brilliant prospects of our existence !--- 
 Poetry, by which is communicated the 
 most intense pleasure to the most intel- 
 lectual and highest qualities of our being! 
 
 But these unfavourable opinions 
 have been encouraged, and if not jus- 
 tified rendered more plausible, by the 
 dull and absurd doctrines of mechanical 
 critics, who lowering the divine Art to 
 petty artifices, such as their own plod- 
 ding perceptions can reach, have too 
 often brought into temporary fashion 
 the mere puerilities of a minor ingenuity 
 wasted upon tinsel attempts to shine. 
 
 Nature speaks alike in every age; 
 and Poetry, like wisdom, is the eternal 
 voice of Truth. To attempt to attract 
 by mere novelty, is to rest on that which, 
 from its very essence, is of the most tran- 
 sient date. How mighty and distin- 
 guished is the task of painting in power- 
 
58 ... . lEntrotJuction. 
 
 ful and harmonious language, those in- 
 tellectual and material associations, which 
 are more numerous and more brilliant in 
 individuals, in proportion to their mental 
 and moral gifts! The whimsical combi- 
 nations of a mind, diverted out of the 
 ordinary course of human pursuits and 
 human feelings, may convey an affected 
 or a momentary impulse to a taste too 
 sluggish to be touched by the simplicity 
 of Nature: but they will soon be deserted 
 for some new toy, which in its turn will 
 nauseate and be thrown away. We have 
 seen that Cowley's genius could not 
 give a lasting attraction to his efforts, 
 when thus misapplied. And how^many 
 a meteor has since been more justly con- 
 signed to a similar fate ! 
 
 The charms of Natvire, the perma- 
 nent and general feelings of humanity, 
 are themes which will never be exhaust- 
 
IntrolJUftion 59 
 
 ed: and will never cease to instruct and 
 delight. Look at those passages in the 
 Ancients, which have been on the lips of 
 all ages, and yet please as intensely as 
 when they were first composed! They 
 deal in no ambitious ornaments; they 
 aftcct no surprising combinations; they 
 illustrate by no far-fetched and surprising 
 image; but they charm by the simplicity 
 and clearness of energetic truth; they 
 affect by echoing the natural emotions 
 of every pure and virtuous bosom; and 
 they astonish by the inimitable faithful- 
 ness and nicety, ,with which they repre- 
 sent the shadowy figures that play be- 
 fore every fancy. 
 
 Take, for instance, the celebrated 
 passage from Virgil's ' Georgics,' which 
 has been cited, and translated, and imi- 
 tated a thousand times. 
 
60 ... . IntrotJuctton. 
 
 " O fortunatos nimium, sua si bona norint, 
 AgTicolas! quibus ipsa, procul discordibus armis, 
 Fiindit humo facilem victum justissima tellus. 
 Si non ingentem foribus domus alta superbis 
 Mane salutantum totis vomit cedibus undam; 
 Nee varios inhiant pulchra testudine pastes, 
 lUusasque auro testes, Ephyre'iaque cera; 
 Alba neque Assyria fucatur lana veneno. 
 Nee casia liquidi corrumpitur usus olivi: 
 At secura quies, et nescia fallere vita, 
 Dives opum variarum; at latis otiafundis, 
 Speluncce, vivique lacus; atfrigida Tempe, 
 Mugitusque bourn, mollesque sub arbore somni 
 Non absunt. Illic saltus ae lustra fer arum, 
 Et patiens operum, exiguoque adsueta juventus, 
 Sacra dedm, sanctique patres : extrema per illos 
 Justitia excedens terris vestigia fecit. 
 
 Me vero primum dulces ante omnia Musce, 
 Quarum saa'afero ingenti percussus amove, 
 Accipiant; ccelique vias, et sidera monstrent : 
 Defectus solis varios, lunceque lahores: 
 Unde tremor terris: qua vi mcti'ia alta tumescant 
 Objicibus ruptis, rursusque in se ipsa residant: 
 Quid tantum Oceano proper ent se tinguere soles 
 Hiberni, vel qua tardis mora noctibus obstet. 
 Sin, has ne possim natur<s accedere partes, 
 Frigidus obstiterit circum praecordia sanguis; 
 Rura mihi et rigui placeant in vallibus amnes; 
 Flumina amem silvasque inglorius. 0, ubi campi, 
 Spercheosque, et virginibus bacchata Laccenis 
 Taygeta : 0, qui me gelidis in vallibus Hcemi 
 Sistat, et ingenti ramorum protegat umbra! 
 
IntrolJuction. . . Gl 
 
 Felix, qui potuit rerum cognoscere causa* : 
 Atque metus omnes et inexorabile fatum 
 Subjecit pedibwif strepitumque Acherontis ctvari! 
 Fortunatu* et ille, deos <fui novit agrestes, 
 Panaq;ue, Silv(tnumque ienem, Nymphasque tororet f 
 Ilium non populi fasces, non purpura regum 
 Fleiit, et injidos agUans discordia fratret ; 
 Aut conjurato descendens Dacus ab Hlstro: 
 Non res Homantt, perituraque regna: neque ille, 
 Aut doluit miserans inopem, aut incidit habenti. 
 Quos ramifructus, quos ipsa volentia rura 
 Sponte tuUre sua, carpsit: nee ferrea jura, 
 Insanumque forum, aut populi tabularia vidit. 
 SolUcitant alii remisfreta caca, ruuntque 
 Inferrum, penetrant aulas, et limina regum: 
 Hie petit excidiis urbem, miserosque Penates, 
 Ut gemma bibat, et Sarrano indonuiat ostro. 
 Condit opes alius, defostoque incubat auro. 
 Hie stupet attonitus Rostris: hunc plausus hiantem 
 Per cuneos Cgeminatus enimj plebisque patrumque 
 CorripuU: gaudent perfusi sanguine fratrum, 
 Exsilioque domos et dulcia limina mutant ; 
 Atque alio patriam quitrunt sub sole jacentem. 
 Agricola incurvo terram dimovit aratro : 
 Hinc antii labor: hinc patriam parvosque nepotes 
 Sustinet: hinc armenta bourn, meritosque juvencos. 
 Nee requies, quin aut pomis exuberet annus, 
 Autfoetu pecorum, aut Cerealis mergite culmi: 
 Proventuque oneret fulcos , atque horrea vincat. 
 Venit hiems, teritur Sicyonia bacca trapetis: 
 Glande sues lati redeunt : dant arbuta silva : 
 Et varios ponit fi£tus auctumnus: et alte 
 
62 ... . Introduction. 
 
 Mitis in apricis coquitur vindemia sax'is. 
 Interea dukes pendent circum oscula nati: 
 Casta piidicitiam servat domus: uhera vacccc 
 Lactea demittunt: pinguesque in gramine Iceto 
 Inter se adversis Inctantur cornihus hcedi. 
 Ipse dies agitat festos : fususque per herbam, 
 Ignis uhi in medio, et socii cratera coronant, 
 Te, libans, Lenae, vocat: pecorisque magistris 
 Velocis jaculi certamina ponit in ulmo: 
 Corporaque agresti nudant prcedura palestra. 
 Hanc olim veteres vitam coluere Sabini: 
 Hanc Remus etfrater: sicfortis Etruria crevit: 
 Scilicet et rerum facta est pulcherrima Roma, 
 Septemque una sibi muro circumdedit arces. 
 Ante etiam sceptrum Dictm regis, et ante 
 Impia quam ccesis gens est epulata juvencis. 
 Aureus hanc vitam in terris Saturnus agebat. 
 Necdum etiam audierant injlari classica, necdum 
 Impositos duris crepitate incudibus enses. 
 Sed nos immensum spatiis confecimus cequor: 
 Etjam tempus equum fumantia solvere colla." 
 
 These enchanting lines, the purest, 
 the simplest, the most elegant, the hap- 
 piest result of imagination, sentiment, 
 and taste; of beauty of thought,^ and 
 skill and grace of execution, united, fur- 
 nish a perfect instance of those merits. 
 
IntroOuction 63 
 
 which I have endeavoured to prove the 
 first characteristics of real Poetry. Here 
 are no far-fetched imagery, no gorgeous 
 combination of thought, or e.xpression; 
 no exaggeration of description, or feel- 
 ing; no epigramatic point, or laboured 
 antithesis; no catching simile to please 
 by its novelty, or suq^rise by its unex- 
 pected likeness; no visions of a caprici- 
 ous enthusiast, whose turn of ideas has 
 been rather directed by an ambition of 
 singularity, than has followed the natural 
 associations of a brilliant, a sensitive, and 
 virtuous mind. But all is clear, and 
 musical, and glittering with the sun- 
 beam of unclouded fancy, like the trans- 
 parent stream, that flows uninterruptedly, 
 under the rising rays of a summer morn- 
 ing, through the richest and loveliest 
 scenery of Nature. 
 
 Are these the toys of an idle intel- 
 
64 InUoDuction. 
 
 lect, which Wisdom would scorn, and Vir- 
 tue would fear to entertain? Are they not 
 rather the emanations of a superior spirit, 
 which enrich the head, elevate the heart, 
 and enlarge the capacity for the most 
 refined enjoyments? 
 
 If a reader can only find amusement 
 in the compositions of his own age, he 
 may assure himself, however mortifying 
 the conviction, that his taste and know- 
 ledge are of the narrowest kind; and 
 that his mind is fixed to a few arbitrary 
 associations, which render him incapable 
 of distinguishing w hat is temporary from 
 what is permanent. Genius is always 
 rare; but genius is still to be found in 
 the productions of every age. If he 
 supposes that he can discover it among 
 his cotemporaries, but not among those 
 of past times, it is clear that he mistakes 
 
JnttoUuction 65 
 
 the dress, under its fleeting fashion, for 
 the form itself. 
 
 Among the sound objects of the 
 study of obsolete literature is, to purify 
 the taste by enlarging the experience 
 and knowledge of the modes in which the 
 intellectual world has, at distant periods, 
 exhibited its treasures. 
 
 If I take a m(xlern Miscellany, 
 (such, perhaps, as Dodsley's) and com- 
 pare its intrinsic merits with that of ^ Da- 
 vison* s Rhapsody y I cannot, after the most 
 dispassionate consideration, be sure of its 
 superiority. It is true, that there i^ less 
 conceit^ the vice of Davison's age; and 
 perhaps less flatness and prolixity: that 
 is, there is more of that character of selec- 
 tion, w hich a long experience in the Art 
 of Poetry teaches its humblest followers: 
 but there is less vigour, less freshness, 
 less originality, less mental exertion. I 
 
66 ... . $ntrot>uction. 
 
 think the advantage, such as it is, pos- 
 sessed by the productions of the later ages 
 of literature, may be clearly accounted 
 for, by attention to the following very 
 ingenious passages of Dugald Stew^- 
 art's 'Elements of the Philosophy of the 
 Human Mind' " In the progress of the 
 Arts, the productions of genius accumu- 
 late to such an extent, that taste may be 
 formed by careful study of the works of 
 others ; and, as formerly imagination had 
 served as a necessary foundation for taste, 
 so taste begins now to invade the pro- 
 vince of imagination. The combina- 
 tions, which the latter faculty has been 
 employed in making, during a long suc- 
 cession of ages, approach to infinity ; and 
 present such ample materials to a judi- 
 cious selection, that, with a high stand- 
 ard of excellence continually present to 
 the thoughts, industry, assisted by the 
 
Introl)uftion. ... 67 
 
 most moderate degree of imagination, will, 
 in time, produce performances not only 
 more free from faults, but incomparably 
 more powerful in their effects, than the 
 most original effort of imtutorcd genius, 
 which, guided by an uncultivated taste, 
 copies after an inferior model of perfec- 
 tion." 
 
 By far the greater part of the im- 
 mense body of Poetry, which in three 
 centuries the British press has put forth, 
 has been thus produced by industry and 
 imitation; and not by original genius.--- 
 Nor will they be distinguished ; or if they 
 are distinguished, it will be to the depre- 
 ciation of the latter, by what Dugald 
 Stewart has called " a technical correct- 
 ness of taste; meaning," says he, " by 
 that phrase, a power of judging how far 
 the artist has conformed himself to the 
 established and acknowledged canons of 
 
68 ... . IntrolJuctton. 
 
 his Art, without any perception of those 
 nameless excellences^ ivhich have hitherto 
 eluded the grasp of verbal description,'^'^ 
 
 There are good reasons, therefore, for 
 resorting to these old writers, as well for 
 pleasure as for improvement, even though 
 they should not furnish that excellence, 
 which an union of great genius, perfect 
 taste, and happy execution can produce. 
 It is not a dull antiquarian bigotry, 
 placing all its delights in the rust of age, 
 which prompts to the investigation of 
 these long-buried relics: it is not an in- 
 sensibility to the unqualified beauties of 
 those great masters, who require no ad- 
 ventitious aids to insure their reputation, 
 and the impression of their charms. I 
 would always keep in the remembrance 
 of the reader, as well as of myself, these 
 nobler claims to admiration, and have 
 
 8 * Philosophical Essays," p. 184. 
 
intTOl^tiction 69 
 
 been thus tempted to shew my sense of 
 them in the present Introchiction. 
 
 I am perfectly convinced, that the 
 greater part of those, who set up for 
 critics, are utterly incapal)le of appreci- 
 ating or feeling the traits of true genius. 
 Its simplicity, and freedom from glare, 
 they mistake for dullness; and the more 
 the artist appears, and the more palpa- 
 bly is seen the dexterity, with which he 
 applies his tools, the more worthy of ap- 
 plause it appears to them.** "A poet," 
 says an eminent critic citcnl below, "is 
 more likely to obtain innnediate reputa- 
 tion, as well as common popidarity, by 
 glittering faults, than by such a strain, 
 as, to use the words of Drayton, ' may 
 
 ^ " If our poets," says an able writer, in * The Quar- 
 terly Review/ xxiii. 61, *'are not in shackles, it is not 
 owing to our Critics, who have been, and who continue to 
 be the worst in Europe; the most shallow, the most con- 
 tradictory, and the most presumptuous. ' 
 
70 JntroDuftton. 
 
 content the perfect man to read:' for 
 children will always be attracted by 
 trinkets and tinsel; and, with regard to 
 Poetry, the great mass of the people are 
 always children. The most popular wri- 
 ter of King James's reign was Joshua 
 Sylvester. He is best known as the 
 translator of Du Bartas, who, of all 
 poets that ever flourished, (Voltaire, 
 perhaps, excepted) enjoyed the most ex- 
 tensive celebrity during his life. Such 
 bloated reputations usually end in blotch- 
 es, for there is always a reaction in these 
 things: one generation seems to pride 
 itself upon defacing the idols of the last; 
 not unfrequently they destroy to-day the 
 golden calf which yesterday they set up, 
 and when idolaters turn iconoclasts, they 
 act as if the outrageousness of the one 
 excess were to efface or atone for the 
 folly of the other. Thus it fared with 
 
inttoOuttioii 71 
 
 GUILLAUME DE SaLLUSTE DU BaRTAS. 
 
 His Poem upon the Creatmiy or rather 
 liis series of Scriptural Poems^ went 
 through thirty -eight editions in the 
 course of five or six years, and was 
 translated into Latin, English, German, 
 Spanish and Italian. It was asserted that 
 Ron SARD, the first star in the French 
 constellation, acknowledged himself to 
 be excelled by this brighter luminary, and 
 presented him with a golden pen as an 
 appropriate offering of homage; a tale 
 which the old Vendomois contradicted 
 with characteristic pride and indignation. 
 But mark what followed these prema- 
 ture glories; before the escutcheon upon 
 his tomb was tarnished, Du Bartas's 
 fame had passed away! He shared the 
 fate of all those who mount upon waxen 
 wings; his faults were exaggerated, his 
 absurdities remembered, and his merits 
 
. IntrotJurtton. 
 
 overlooked or forgotten. Let us how- 
 ever do justice to a man of shining ta- 
 lents and distinguished virtue. Thuanm, 
 who knew and loved him, tells us, that 
 from his youth he was bred up in arms, 
 remote from the society of learned men, 
 and of those who might have taught him 
 to detect and correct his own faults; that 
 he knew and lamented the deficiencies 
 which want of proper intellectual culture 
 must have occasioned in his writings, and 
 ever thought modestly of himself." 
 
 In very late days, the secret of real 
 Poetry, such as is gifted vvith perpetual 
 verdure, has, in a few able works of cri- 
 ticism, been better developed. And I 
 cannot forbear copying the following 
 most elegant and just passage of Du- 
 GALD Stewart, which so well expresses 
 the distinguishing ingredient of poetical 
 works of this genuine cast, while it points 
 
introDuftion 73 
 
 out their exalted use. ''The effects ot 
 foreign travel/' says he, "have been often 
 remarked, not only in rousing the curio- 
 sity of the traveller while abroad, but in 
 correcting, after his return, whatever 
 habits of inclination he had contracted 
 to the institutions and manners, among 
 which he was bred. It is in a way some- 
 what analogous, that our occasional ex- 
 cursions into the regions of imagination 
 increase our interest in those familiar re- 
 alities, from which the stores of imagina- 
 tion are borrowed. We learn insensibly, 
 to view Nature with the eye of the pain- 
 ter, and of the poet, and to seize those 
 ' happy attitudes of things,' which their 
 taste at first selected; while enriched 
 with the accumulation of ages, and with 
 ' the spoils of time,' we occasionally 
 combine with what we see, all that we 
 know, and all that we feel; and sublime 
 
74 ... . UntrotJuction. 
 
 the original beauties of the natural 
 world, by blending with them the inex- 
 haustible delights of the heart and the 
 fancy/' ^ 
 
 This representation of the purposes 
 of Poetry, though it occasionally flashed 
 upon Johnson, in his critical discussions, 
 was in general, (one almost suspects in- 
 tentionally,) kept out of sight. There is 
 a passage in 'The Life of Thomson,' 
 and another in the criticism for Young, 
 which recognizes it: and his magnificent 
 and inimitable inquiry into the character 
 of 'Paradise Lost,' shews how capable 
 his very powerful mind was, of feeling 
 and describing the highest efforts of 
 poetical genius. But it seemed an awe- 
 ful duty which he could only bring his 
 sullen and reluctant mind to perform on 
 the rarest of great occasions. In com- 
 
 * Philosophical Essays,' p. 509, 510. 
 
Iittrotiurtton 75 
 
 mon cases his inclination and daily pro- 
 pensities led him to a meaner taste, and 
 more ordinary strains of humbler inge- 
 nuity. It is scarcely possible to forgive 
 the man, who could speak with cold 
 contempt, and verbal hypercriticism, of 
 Gray; and describe the divine Odes of 
 his friend Collins as the abortions of 
 perverted ingenuity! This sentiment I 
 have never ceased to feel and to express: 
 and I am happy to be confirmed in it by 
 the calm opinion of the great philoso- 
 pher, whom I have last cited. His words 
 are these: 
 
 " Among our English poets, who is 
 more vigorous, correct, and polished, 
 than Dr. Johnson, in the few poetical 
 compositions which he has left? What- 
 ever may be thought of his claims to 
 originality of genius, no person who reads 
 his verses can deny, that he possessed a 
 
76 ... . Irnttoliuction. 
 
 sound taste in this species of composition : 
 and yet how wayward and perverse in 
 many instances, are his decisions, when 
 he sits in judgment on a political adver- 
 sary, or when he treads on the ashes of 
 a political rival ! To myself, (much as I 
 admire his great and various merits, both 
 as a critic and a writer,) human nature 
 never appears in a more humiliating 
 form, than when I read his ' Lives of the 
 Poets;' a performance, which exhibits a 
 more faithful, expressive, and curious 
 picture of the author, than all the por- 
 traits attempted by his biographers; and 
 which, in this point of view, compensates 
 fully by the moral lessons it may suggest, 
 for the critical errors which it sanctions. 
 The errors, alas ! are not such as any one 
 who has perused his imitations of Juve- 
 nal, can place to the account of a bad 
 taste; but such as had their root in 
 
IntroOtirtton 77 
 
 weaknesses, which a noble mind would be 
 still more unwilling to acknowledge/'*' 
 
 The reader, perhaps, will deem these 
 remarks irrelevant to the subject of the 
 present Introduction. They do not ap- 
 pear so to the Editor, who is anxious 
 that the refined taste, which knows in 
 what gradations to value all the various 
 exertions of literary genius, should not 
 be lost in the undistinguishing zeal of 
 the mere anti(|uarian. 
 
 He who prizes a thing merely be- 
 cause it is old; and he who contenms it, 
 because it is old, is equally dull and fool- 
 ish. The form of Beauty is the same, 
 whether she be dressed in an antique, or 
 a modern fashion; and the same rules of 
 shape, proportion, and hue, apply in 
 both cases. Perhaps the same minute 
 ornament, the same formality and stiff- 
 
 ^ * PhitosuphUal Essays,' p. 492. 
 
 -**■■»*■ ^^■r^.»* : »^.»»-*^*»- »»■»* 
 
78 ... . 3Enttotiuctton. 
 
 ness, and the same unnatural distortion, 
 were applied to the minor poets of Queen 
 Elizabeth's reign, as to the Court-dress 
 of her females; while the greater pro- 
 ductions were cloathed in a language, 
 bold, rich, striking, and manly, like the 
 habits of her warriors, and knights of 
 chivalry. 
 
 The man of enlarged faculties, and 
 rich imagination, will never repent of the 
 hours consumed in obtaining a familia- 
 rity with the works of genius of the Eli- 
 zabethan sera, in which the mind first 
 expanded itself fully into all the luxuri- 
 ance of free intercourse, after long ages 
 of darkness, with the admirable models 
 of classical fancy, and classical wisdom: 
 and Britain imported from Italy all the 
 new treasures of a riper and more favour- 
 ed country. No instance has yet come 
 within the Editor's experience, of any 
 
l^ntroDuctton. 79 
 
 person of early education and cultivated 
 talents, who, if it was joined to any de- 
 gree of native sensibility and quick con- 
 ception, did not feel a lively interest in 
 the literature of this period. It is true, 
 indeed, that, in those of the same natu- 
 ral endowments, this takes place in vari- 
 ous degrees, according to the accidental 
 course of their studies. Still it is a trea- 
 sure, which none but the imeducated, or 
 those of dry heads and hard hearts de- 
 spise. 
 
 To please every one; to hope that 
 any occupation of time, however inno- 
 cent, (if not praise-worthy) can escape 
 the censure of the malignant, or the sar- 
 castic, or the light, would indeed be a vain 
 expectation. Bitter and repeated proof 
 has taught other lessons to the present 
 Editor. He has been accused of a blind 
 fondness for the works of past ages; he 
 
80 ... . 5ntrol)uctton. 
 
 has been supposed to see in them ima- 
 ginary charms, created by his own zeal. 
 Wliether he is ignorant of what con- 
 stitutes the true merit of Poetry, let the 
 candid and intelligent critic judge ! This 
 Introduction, however cursory, has taken 
 a wide range, and attempted the appo- 
 sition of very far-separated efforts of ex- 
 cellence. If he, who peruses * Davison's 
 Rhapsody,' in this edition, is impressed 
 with its claims to applause, it will not be 
 from ignorance, or forgetfiilness of the 
 happiest models. 
 
 Lee Priory, July 26, 1815. 
 

 
 
 
 
 POEMS. 
 
 
 
 
 
CONTENTS* 
 
 P»|e 
 
 ET other Twelve Wonders of the World, 
 never before publithed — 'by Sir 
 
 John Davie* 3 
 
 A Contention betwixt a Wife, a HyUtw, 
 
 and a Maid— by the same 6 
 
 ./ /. Cupid made a Stjmph wound herself tcith 
 
 his Arrows. . 17 
 
 A Complaint of which all the ^tav(;s end with the h ords 
 
 of the First, like a Sestine — by F. D 19 
 
 A Dialogue m imitation of that between Horace and 
 
 Lydia 24 
 
 A Hymn in Praise of Music— -by J. D.. . ... 25 
 
 TBN SONNRTS TO PHILOMEL— BY THE SAME. 
 
 Sonnet X.— Upon Love's entering by his Ears 27 
 
 Sonnet « 28 
 
 Sonnet S.—Of his oum, and of his M'utress 's Sickneu 
 
 at one tune ib. 
 
 Sonnet 4,— Another of her Sickness and Recovery 29 
 
 Sonnet 5. Allusion to Theseus 's Voyage to Creete, 
 
 against the Minotaur 30 
 
 Sonnet 6.— Upon her looking secretly out at a window 
 
 as he passed by ib. 
 
 Sonnet 7 SI 
 
 Sonnet 9 32 
 
 Sonnet 9.— Upon sending her a Gold Ring, tcith th'u 
 
 Posy, Pure and endless ib. 
 
 Sonnet 10 33 
 
 A Lottery presented before the late Queen '« Majesty at 
 
 the Lord Chancellor's House, 1601 — by J. D. . 34 
 
©onUnt^. 
 
 Page 
 
 A Dialogue between two Shepherds, Thenot and Piers, 
 in praise -of Astrea — hy Mary, Countess of Pem- 
 broke 41 
 
 Upon his meeting with his two worthy Friends and fel- 
 low Poets, Sir Edward Dyer, and M. Fulke Gre- 
 
 vile—by Sir Philip Sydney 43 
 
 Dispraise of a Courtly Life — by the same 46 
 
 Sonnet— Love's seven deadly Sins— by H. C 49 
 
 Sonnet— To two most Honourable and Virtuous Ladies 
 and Sisters, the Lady Margaret, Countess of Cum- 
 berland, and Lady Anne, Countess of Warwick— 
 by the same 50 
 
 INSCRIPTIONS. 
 
 Thisbe ib. 
 
 Clytemnestra to her Son Orestes, coming to kill her for 
 
 viurdering his Father, Agamemnon 51 
 
 Ajax ib. 
 
 Romulus * . . . 52 
 
 Fabritius Curio, who refused gold of the Samnites, and 
 
 discovered to King Pyrrhus his Physician that 
 
 offered to poison him ib. 
 
 Cato Uticen, who slew himself because he would not fall 
 
 into CcEsar's hands ib. 
 
 Madrigal 53 
 
 Madrigal— borrowed out of a Greek Epigram* ib. 
 
 Madrigal — upon her dreaming that she saw him dead. . ib. 
 
 Sonnet 54 
 
 Sonnet 55 
 
 Sonnet— To Mistress Diana 56 
 
 Madrigal Upon his Departure ib. 
 
<2rontfnt$. 
 
 Eclogue — Entitled "Cuddy.' 57 
 
 Cuddy 's Emblem ^'1 
 
 Elegy— On a Woman's Heart— -by H. H'ottoir ib. 
 
 Love's Embassy, in an Iambic Elegy by Edmund 
 
 Spenser 62 
 
 A Sonnet of the Moon — by Ch. B. 6*3 
 
 A Sonnet of the Sun— by the same 04 
 
 Union 's Jewel— by the same 65 
 
 Panegyric to my Sovereign Lord the King — by the same 68 
 
 A Device— Of the Fall of Man in Adam — by the same 73 
 
 Of the restoring of Man by Christ — by the same 74 
 
 To my Lord the Prince— by the same 75 
 
 To the Excellent Lady Elizabeth, her Gtace — by the 
 
 same ib. 
 
 A Dialogue between the Lover and hl» Heart— by T. 
 
 H'atson. . 7'> 
 A Dialogue between a Lover, Death, and Love — by the 
 
 same 77 
 
 That Tune hath no power to end or dimmish his Love- 
 by the same 71> 
 
 Love 's Hyperboles'— by the same hi 
 
 An Invective against Love— by the same S'2 
 
 Petrarch's Sonnet translated— by the same 93 
 
 He proves himself to endure the Hellish Torments of 
 Tantalus, Ixion, Titius, Sisyphus, and the Be- 
 tides— by the same s:> 
 
 Love's Discommodities-— by the same H(; 
 
 Allegory of his love to a Ship— by the same bH 
 
 fjcecration of his passed Love — by the same 89 
 
 Upon his Lady 's Sickness of the Small Pox— by Tho- 
 
 mtis Spilman 91 
 
 Anacreon 's second Ode — by the same . . 92 
 
€Jont?nts5. 
 
 Page 
 
 An Eclogue, made long since upon the Death of Sir 
 
 Philip Sydney— by A. W. 93 
 
 A Reporting Sonnet 102 
 
 Sonnet 103 
 
 Sonnet ib. 
 
 Sonnet 104 
 
 Tuco Sonnets— by J. S . 105 
 
 A Hymn in Praise of Neptune— by Thomas Campion. . 106 
 
 Of his Mistress' Face— by the same 107 
 
 Upon her Paleness — by the same 108 
 
 Of Corinna's singing— by the same 109 
 
 Anacreon's second Ode— from R. Greene's 'Orpharion' ib. 
 
 Madrigal— in Praise of Two 110 
 
 To his Lady's Garden, being Absent far from her .... Ill 
 
 Madrigal 112 
 
 Ode ib. 
 
 Ode. . Of Cynthia . . , 113 
 
 Of Love Gift 114 
 
 A Poem ib. 
 
 A Poem. 115 
 
 A Poem in the nature of an Epitaph to a Friend ib. 
 
 Love's Contentment 116 
 
 A Repentant Poem 118 
 
Oab(j(on*ja{ Poetical lifiapjafotrjp. 
 
 YET OTHER TWELVE WONDERS OF THE WORLD, 
 NEVER YET PUBLISHED. 
 
 By Sir Jokm Dmeia. 
 I. THE COURTIER. 
 
 ONG have I liv'd in Court, yet learn'd not 
 
 all thU while. 
 To sell poor suitors smoke, nor where I 
 
 hate to smile ; 
 Superiors to adore, inferiors to despise. 
 To fly from such as fall, to follow such as rise } 
 To cloak a poor desire under a rich array, 
 Nor to aspire by vice, though fwere the quicker way. 
 
 * 2. THB DIVINE. 
 
 My calling is Divine, and I from God am sent ; 
 I will no chop-church be, nor pay my patron rent j 
 Nor yield to sacrilege ; but, like the kind true mother. 
 Rather will lose all the child, than part it with another. 
 Much wealth I will not seek j nor worldly masters serve. 
 So to grow rich and fat, while my poor flock doth starve. 
 
 3. THE SOLDIER. 
 
 My occupation is the noble trade of kings; 
 
 The trial that decides the highest right of things : 
 
 Though Mars my master be, I do not Venus love. 
 
 Nor honour Bacchus oft, nor often swear by Jove: 
 
 Of speaking of myself I all occasion shun. 
 
 And rather love to do, than boast what I have done. 
 
 By John Davies, 3"* Edit, by Sir John Davies, 4"«. 
 
4 Babt^on^^ i^oetual Sij^apsiotis. 
 
 4. THE LAWYER. 
 
 The Law my calling is ; my robe, my tongue, my pen, 
 
 Wealth and opinion gain, and make me judge of men. 
 
 The known dishonest cause I never did defend. 
 
 Nor spun out suits in length, but wish'd and sought an end. 
 
 Nor counsel did bewray, nor of both parties take. 
 
 Nor ever took I fee for which I never spake. 
 
 5. THE PHYSICIAN. 
 
 I study to uphold the slippery state of man, 
 
 WTio dies when we have done the best, and all we can. 
 
 From practice and from books I draw my learned skill. 
 
 Not from the known receipt or* "Pothecary's bill. 
 
 The earth my faults doth hide, the world my cures doth see: 
 
 What youth and time affects, is oft ascrib'd to me. 
 
 6. THE MERCHANT. 
 
 My trade doth every thing to every land supply. 
 Discovers unknown coasts, strange countries doth'' allyj 
 I never did forestall, I never did engross. 
 Nor custom did withdraw, though I return'd with loss. 
 I thrive by fair exchange, by selling and by buying. 
 And not by Jewish use, reprisal, fraud, or lying. 
 
 7. THE COUNTRY GENTLEMAN. 
 
 Though strange outlandish spirits praise towns, and coun- 
 try scorn. 
 The country is my home, I dwell where I was born. 
 
 » Of, 3'^ and 4*^. ^ To, 4*^. 
 
]9abt$(on'0 poetical l^[)a)j^Ds. 
 
 There profit and command with pleasure I partake. 
 Yet do not hawks and do^s my sole companions make ; 
 I rule, but not oppress; end quarrels, not maintain; 
 See towns, but dwell not there t'abridge my charge or train. 
 
 8. THB BACHELOR. 
 
 I low many things &9 yet are dear alike to me. 
 The field, the horse, the dog, love, arms, or liberty! 
 I have no wife as yet, whom I may call mine own ; 
 I have no children yet, that by my name are known. 
 Vet if I married were, 1 would not wish to thrive. 
 If that I could not tame the veriest shrew alive. 
 
 9. THB MAIRIBD MAN. 
 
 I only am the man, among all married men. 
 
 That do not wish the priest to be unlink'd again ; 
 
 And thoutch my shoe did wring, I would not make my 
 
 moan. 
 Nor think my neighbour's chance more happy than mine 
 
 own. 
 Yet court I not my wife, but yield observance due. 
 Being neither fond, nor cross, nor jealous, nor untrue. 
 
 10. THE WIFE. 
 
 The first of all our sex came from the side of man ; 
 
 I thither am return'd, from whence our sex began. 
 
 I do not visit oft, nor many when I do ; 
 
 I tell my mind to few, and that in counsel too. 
 
 I seem not sick in health, nor sullen but in sorrow, 
 
 1 care for somewhat else, than what to wear to-morrow. 
 
6 Sab{0on*j5 poetical ISlfjapgolJg. 
 
 11. THE WIDOW. 
 
 My dying husband knew, how much his death would grieve 
 
 me. 
 And therefore left me wealth to comfort and relieve me. 
 Though I no more will have, I must not love disdain ; 
 Penelope herself did suitors entertain. 
 And yet to draw on such as are of best esteem. 
 Nor younger than I am, nor richer will I seem. 
 
 12. THE MAID. 
 
 I marriage would forswear, but that I hear men tell. 
 That she that dies a maid, must lead an ape in hell. 
 Therefore if Fortune come, I will not mock and playj 
 Nor drive the bargain on, till it be driven away. 
 Titles and lands I like, yet rather fancy can, 
 A man that wanteth gold, than gold that wants a man. 
 
 A CONTENTION BETWIXT 
 
 A WIFE, A WIDOW, AND A MAID. 
 
 By John Dories. * 
 
 Wife. vV^iDow, well met; whither go you to-day"? 
 Will you not to this solemn ofF'ring go? 
 You know it is Astrea's holy day. 
 The saint to whom all hearts devotion owe. 
 
 * John Davies 3d, no signature in 4th. 
 
]9abt0on')S poetical l^t)apjioD5 7 
 
 Widow. Marry, what ebe: I purpos'd so to do ; 
 
 Do you not mark how all the wives are fine j 
 And how they have sent presents ready too. 
 To make their offerings at Astrea's shrine? 
 
 See then the shrine and tapers burning bright! 
 Come, friend, and let ub first ourselves advance} 
 We know our place, and if we have our right. 
 To all the parish we must lead the dance. 
 
 But, soft! what means this bold presumptuous maid. 
 To go before, without respect of us ? 
 Your forwardness (proud girl) must now be staid. 
 Where Icam'd you to neglect your betters thus ? 
 
 Maid. Elder you are, but not my betters here> 
 
 This place to Maids a privilege must give ; 
 The Goddess, being a maid, holds maidens dear. 
 And grants to them her own prerogative. 
 
 Besides, on all true virgins, at their birth. 
 Nature hath sei*^ a crown of excellence, 
 That all the wives and widows of the earth 
 Should give them place, and doihem reverence. 
 
 Wife. If to be bom a Maid be such a grace. 
 
 So was I bom, and grac'd by Nature too ; 
 But seeking more perfection to embrace, 
 I did become a Wife as others do. 
 
 Sent, 8* and 4*^. 
 
8 Sabigon'^ Ironical ilj^apgotg. 
 
 Wid. And if the INIaid and Wife such honour have, 
 I have been both, and hold a third degree : 
 Most Maids are wards, and every Wife a slave j 
 I have my livery sued, and 1 am free. 
 
 Maid. That is the fault that you have maidens been. 
 And were not constant to continue so: 
 The fall of angels did mcrease their sin. 
 In that they did so pure a state forego. 
 
 But, Wife and Widow, if your wits can make 
 Your state and persons of more worth than mine. 
 Advantage to this place I will not take j 
 I will both place and privilege resign. 
 
 irife. Why, marriage is an honourable state ! 
 Wid. And widowhood is a reverend degree ! 
 Maid. But maidenhead, that will admit no mate. 
 Like majesty itself must sacred be. 
 
 M'ife. The Wife is mistress of her family. 
 
 Wid. ]Much more the Widow, for she rules alone : 
 
 Maid. But mistress of mine own desires am I, 
 
 When you rule others' wills and not your own. 
 
 Wife. Only the Wife enjoys the virtuous pleasure. 
 Wid. The Widow can abstain from pleasures kno\vn. 
 Maid. But the uncorrupted Maid observes ^ such measure, 
 As, being by pleasures wooed, she cares for none. 
 
 ^ Preserves, 3** and 4*'». 
 
^1 
 
 
 Sabi^on'js ipoetical »|)at)so05 9 
 
 fVife. 
 
 The Wife is like a fair supported vine: 
 
 Widow 
 
 . So was the Widow, but now stands alone; 
 
 
 For being grown strong, she needs not to incline. 
 
 Maid. 
 
 Maids, like the earth, supported are of none. 
 
 mfe. 
 
 The Wife is as a diamond richly set : 
 
 Maid. 
 
 The Maid unset doth yet more rich appear. 
 
 hid. 
 
 The Wklow a jewel in the cabinet. 
 
 
 Which though not worn b still estecm'd as dear. 
 
 mje. 
 
 The Wife doth love, and is belovd again. 
 
 Hid. 
 
 The Widow is awak'd out of that dream. 
 
 Maid. 
 
 The Maid's white mind had neveir such a stain; 
 
 
 No passion troubles her clear virtue's stream. 
 
 
 Yet if I would be lov'd, lov'd would I be. 
 
 
 I^ike her, whose virtue in the bay is seen : 
 
 
 Love to Wife fadeth with satiety. 
 
 
 Where love never enjoyed is ever green. 
 
 Wid. 
 
 Then what's a virgin but a fruitless bay? 
 
 Maid. 
 
 And what's a Widow but a rose-less brier? 
 
 
 And what are Wives but woodbines which decay 
 
 
 The stately oaks by which themselves aspire ? 
 
 
 And what is marriage but a tedious yoke? 
 
 md. 
 
 And what \'irginity, but sweet self-love? 
 
 Wife. 
 
 And what's a Widow but an axle broke. 
 
 
 Whose part, one failing, neither part can move? 
 
 ■II 
 

 10 Babi^on's 93oetical l^j^ap^otg. 
 
 JVid. 
 
 Wives are as birds in golden cages kept : 
 
 Wife. 
 
 Yet in those cages cheerfully they sing. 
 
 fVid. 
 
 Widows are birds out of those cages lept. 
 
 
 Wliose joyful notes make all the forest ring. 
 
 Maid. 
 
 But Maids are birds amidst the woods secure. 
 
 
 Which never hand coukl touch nor net* could take. 
 
 
 Nor whistle could deceive nor bait allure. 
 
 
 But free unto themselves do music make. 
 
 Wife. 
 
 The Wife is as the turtle with her mate. 
 
 Wid. 
 
 The Widow as the widow dove alone. 
 
 
 ^VTiose truth shines most in her forsaken state. 
 
 Maid. 
 
 The Maid a PhcenLx, and is still Wt one. 
 
 Wife. 
 
 The Wife's a soul unto her body tied. 
 
 Wid. 
 
 The Widow a soul departed into bliss. 
 
 Maid. 
 
 The ]\Iaid an angel which was stellified. 
 
 
 And now t'as fair a house descended is. 
 
 Wife. 
 
 Wives are fair houses kept and furnish'd well. 
 
 Wid. 
 
 Widows old castles void, but full of state. 
 
 Maid. 
 
 But Maids are temples where tiie gods do dwell; 
 
 
 To whom alone themselves they dedicate. 
 
 
 But marriage is a prison during life. 
 
 
 WTiere one way out but many entries be. 
 
 Wife. 
 
 The Nun is kept in cloister, not the Wife : 
 
 
 Wedlock alone doth make the virgin free. 
 
 * Get, 4"'. 
 
. i 
 
 
 Dabi^on'g i^octical iii)apgoDg. .... 11 
 
 Maid. 
 
 The Maid is ever fresh, like Morn in May. 
 
 mfe. 
 
 The Wife with all her beams is beautified. 
 
 
 Like to high noon, the glory of the day. 
 
 Hid. 
 
 The Widow like a mild sweet eventide. 
 
 Hife. 
 
 An office well supplieil is like the Wife. 
 
 hid. 
 
 The Widow like a gainful office void. 
 
 Maid. 
 
 But Maids are like contentment in this life. 
 
 
 Which all the world have sought, but none enjoy 'd. 
 
 
 Go, Wife, to Dunmow, and demand your flitch. 
 
 Hid. 
 
 Go, gentle Maid, go lead the apes in hell. 
 
 fn/e. 
 
 Go, Widow, make some younger brother rich, 
 
 
 And then take thought and die, and all is well. 
 
 
 Alas, poor Maid! thou hast no help nor stay. 
 
 irtd. 
 
 Alas, poor Wife! that nothing dost possess. 
 
 Maid. 
 
 Ahis, poor Widow! Charity doth say. 
 
 
 Pity the Widow and the fatherless. 
 
 nid. 
 
 But happy Widows have the world at will. 
 
 IVife.i 
 
 But happier Wives, whose joys are ever double. 
 
 Maid. 
 
 But happiest Maids, whose hearts are calm and still. 
 
 
 Whom fear, nor hope, nor love, nor hate doth trouble. 
 
 Wife. 
 
 Every true Wife hath an indented heart. 
 
 
 Wherein the covenants of Love are writj 
 
 
 Whereof her husband keeps the counterpart. 
 
 
 And reads his comforts and his joys in it. 
 
 
 *■ Hare. ^* and -l'*". ' Omitted, l'*". 
 
 . - - --- '1 
 

 
 
 12 Sabt$on'0 poetical Iflj^ap^ots. 
 
 
 fVid. But every Widow's heart is like a book. 
 
 
 Where her joys past imprinted do remainj 
 
 
 But when her judgment's eye therein doth look. 
 
 
 She doth not wish they were to come again. 
 
 
 Maid. But the Maid's heart a fair white table is. 
 
 
 Spotless and pure, where no impressions be. 
 
 
 But the immortal characters of bliss. 
 
 
 A^Tiich only God doth write and angels see. 
 
 
 Wife. But Wives have children : what a joy is this? 
 
 
 Wid. Widows have children too, but Maids have none. 
 
 
 Maid. No more have angels, yet they have more bliss. 
 
 
 Than ever yet to mortal man was known. 
 
 
 fVife. The Wife is like a fair manured field. 
 
 
 Wid. The Widow once was such, but now doth rest. 
 
 
 Maid. The Maid, like Paradice, undrest, untill'd. 
 
 
 Bears crops of native virtue in her breast. 
 
 
 Wife. W' ho would not die a Wife, as Lucrece died ? 
 
 
 Wid. Or live a Widow, as Penelope ? 
 
 
 Maid. Or be a Maid, and so be stellified. 
 
 
 As all the Virtues and the Graces be? 
 
 
 Wife. Wives are warm climates well inhabited : 
 
 
 But Maids are frozen Zones, where none may 
 
 
 dwell. 
 
 
 Maid. But fairest people in the North are bred. 
 
 
 . Where Africa breeds monsters black as hell. 
 
 . 
 
 
Sabidon'd poetical ii{)^))<ioDs 13 
 
 H'l/e. I have my husband's honour and his place. 
 H'trf. My husband's fortunes all survive to me. 
 Maid. The moon doth borrow light, you borrow grace. 
 When Maids by their own virtues graced be. 
 
 White is my colour, and no hue but this 
 It will receive, no tincture can it stain. 
 in/e. My white hath took one colour, but it if 
 An honourable purple died in grain. 
 
 If Id. But it hath been my fortune to renew 
 
 My colour twice from that it was before ; . 
 But now my black will take no other hue. 
 And therefore now I mean to change no more. 
 
 ffl/i;. Wives are fair apples serv'd in golden dishes. 
 Hid. Widows good wine, which time makes better much. 
 Maid. But Maids are grapes desir'd by many wishes, 
 But that they grow so high as none can touch. 
 
 Hye. I have a daughter equals you, my girl. 
 Maid. The daughter doth excel the mother then. 
 
 As pearls are better than the mother of pearl ; 
 
 Maids loose their value, when they match with 
 men. 
 
 fVid. The man with whom I match'd, his worth was such. 
 As now I scorn a Maid should be my peer. 
 
 Maid. But I will scorn the man you praise so much. 
 
 For Maids are matchless, and no mate can bear. 
 
- 
 
 , II 
 
 
 
 14 Babi^on'g poetical 3^]^apsoUg. 
 
 
 
 Hence is it that the \argin never loves. 
 
 
 
 Because her like she finds not any where: 
 
 
 
 For likeness evermore affection moves j 
 
 
 
 Therefore the Maid hath neither love nor peer. 
 
 
 Wife. 
 
 Yet many virgins married wives would be. 
 
 
 H'ul. 
 
 And many a Wife would be a Widow fain. 
 
 
 Maid. 
 
 There is no Widow but desires to see. 
 If so she might, her maiden days again. 
 
 
 Wife. 
 
 There never was a Wife that lik'd her lot. 
 
 
 Wid. 
 
 Nor Widow but was clad in mourning weeds. 
 
 
 Maid. 
 
 Do what you will, marry, or marry not. 
 Both this estate and that repentance breeds. 
 
 
 Wife. 
 
 But she, that this estate and that hath seen. 
 Doth find great odds between the \^'ife and Girl. 
 
 
 Maid. 
 
 ^ Indeed she doth, as much as is between 
 The melting hailstone, and the solid pearl. 
 
 
 Wife. 
 
 If I were Widow, my merry days were past. 
 
 
 Wid. 
 
 Nay, then you first become sweet pleasure's guest: 
 For maiden-head is a continu?^l fast; 
 And marriage is a continual feast. 
 
 
 Maid. 
 
 Wedlock indeed hath oft compared been 
 To public feasts, where meet a public rout^ 
 Where they that are without would fain go in. 
 And they that are within would fain go out. 
 
 
 ^ 3^ and 4*»»— -omitted in 1»' and 2^. 
 
 L 
 
 
Sabtjion'd poetical i^t)apiU)Ds 15 
 
 Or to the jewel which this virtue had. 
 That men were mad till they might it obtain ; 
 But when they had it they were twice as mad. 
 Till they were dispossest of it again. 
 
 Hye. Maids cannot judge, because they cannot tell. 
 What comforts and what joys in marriage be. 
 
 Maid. Yes, yes, though blessed saints in heaven do dwell. 
 They do the souls in purgatory see. 
 
 frid. If every Wife do live in purgatory. 
 
 Then sure it b that Widows live in bliss. 
 And are translated to a state of glory; 
 But Maids as yet have not attain'd to this. 
 
 Maid. Not Maids ? To spotless Maids this gift is given. 
 To live in incorruption from their birth : 
 And what is that, but to inherit heaven. 
 Even while they dwell upon the spotted earth. 
 
 The perfectest of all created things ; 
 
 The purest gold tliat suffers no allay ; 
 
 llie sweetest flower that on th' earth's bosom springs. 
 
 The pearl unbor'd, whose prize no price can pay. 
 
 The crystal glass that will no venom hold j 
 The mirror wherein angels love to look j 
 Diana's bathing fountain, clear and coldj 
 Beauty's fresh rose, and Virtue's living book. 
 
16 Sabi^on'^ i^oettral )^i)a]:$otis. 
 
 Of Love and Fortune both the mistress born j 
 The sovereign spirit that will be thrall to none j 
 The spotless garment that was never worn ; 
 The princely eagle that still flies alone. 
 
 She sees the world, yet her clear thought doth take 
 No such deep print as to be chang'd thereby j 
 As when we see the burning fire doth make 
 No such impression as doth burn the eye. 
 
 irife. No more, sweet Maid, our strife is at an end j 
 Cease now, I fear we shall transformed be 
 To chattering pies, as they that did contend 
 To match the Muses in their harmony. 
 
 ^rid. Then let us yield the honour and the place; 
 And let us both be suitors to the Maid ; 
 That since the Goddess gives her special grace. 
 By her clear hands the oflFering be convey 'd. 
 
 Maid. Your speech, I doubt, hath some displeasure mov'dj 
 Yet let me have the offering, I will see : 
 I know she hath both Wives and Widows lov'd. 
 Though she would neither Wife nor Widow be. 
 
Babidon'd ^j^octical I&l}ap»o0s 17 
 
 A ncnoN, HOW cupid made a nymph wound her. 
 
 SELF WITH HIS ARROWS. 
 
 Xt chanc'd of late a shepherd's swain. 
 That went to seek a strayed sheep ^ 
 Withm a thicket on the plain, 
 Espy'd a dainty Nymph asleep. 
 
 Her golden hair o'er-spread her face. 
 Her careless arms abroad were cast. 
 Her quiver had her pillow's place. 
 Her breast lay bare to every blast. 
 
 The Shepherd stood and gaz'd his fill; 
 Nought durst he do, nought durst he say, 
 VVTien chance, or ebe perhaps his will. 
 Did guide the God of Love that way. 
 
 The crafty Boy that sees her sleep. 
 Whom if she wak'd, he durst not aee. 
 Behind her closely seeks to creep. 
 Before her nap should ended be. 
 
 There come, he steals her shafts away. 
 And puts his own into their place ; 
 Ne dares he any longer stay. 
 But ere she wakes, hies thence apace. 
 
18 i3abt$on'0 poetical i^j[)ap$otis. 
 
 Scarce was he gone, when she awakes. 
 And spies the Shepherd standing by; 
 Her bended bow in haste she takes. 
 And at the simple swain let fly. 
 
 Forth flew the shaft, and pierc'd his heart. 
 That to the ground he fell with pain: 
 Yet up again forwith he start. 
 And to the Nymph he ran amain. 
 
 Amaz'd to see so strange a sight. 
 She shot, and shot, but all in vainj 
 The more his wounds, the more his mightj 
 Love yieldeth strength in midst of pain. 
 
 Her angry eyes are great with tears. 
 She blames her hands, she blames her skill; 
 The bluntness of her shafts she fears. 
 And try them on herself she will. 
 
 Take heed, sweet Nymph, try not thyj shaft. 
 Each little touch will prick the ^ heart; 
 Masl thou knowest not Cupid's craft. 
 Revenge is joy, the end is smart. 
 
 Yet try she will, and prick some bare. 
 Her hands were glov'd, and next to hand 
 Was that fair breast, that breast so rare. 
 That made the Shepherd senseless stand. 
 
 The, 4*''. ^ My, 4*^. 
 
iSabigon'^ ^^octical iiijafsJoDg 19 
 
 That breast she prickd, and through that breast 
 Love finds an entry to her heart : 
 At feeling of this new-come guest, 
 Lord how the gentle Nymph doth start ! 
 
 She runs not now, she shoots no more; 
 Away »\\e throws both shafts and bow; 
 She seeks for that she shun'd before, 
 She thinks the Shepherd's haste too slow. 
 
 Though mountains meet not, lovers may: 
 So others do, and so do they: 
 The God of Love sits on a tree. 
 And laughs that pleasant sight to see. 
 
 A C0MPL.\1NT OF WHICH ALL THE STAVES END WITH 
 THE WORDS OF THE FIRST, UKE A SESTINE. 
 
 Bw F. D. 
 
 JL E ghastly groves, that hear my woeful cries. 
 Whose shady leaves do shake to hear my pain; ' 
 Thou silver stream that dost with tears lament; 
 The cruel chance that doth my ™ grief increase: 
 
 * Initials omitted in the fourth edition. 
 
 * Wbo«€ shady leaves would help to ease my pain, 4**. 
 
 - With, 4»*. 
 
20 i3abi$on*^ ^^oftical jUj^apsiolig. 
 
 Ye chirping birds, whose cheerless notes declare 
 That ye bewail the woes I feel" in mind. 
 Bear witness how with care I do consume. 
 And hear the cause why thus I pine away. 
 
 Love is the cause that makes me pine away. 
 
 And makes you hear the echo of my cries. 
 
 Through Grief's increase: and though the cause of pain^ 
 
 Which doth enforce me still thus to lament. 
 
 Proceed from Love, and though my pain increase 
 
 By daily cries which do that pain declare. 
 
 And witness are of my afflicted mindj 
 
 Yet cry I will, till crying me consume. 
 
 For as the fire the stubble doth consume. 
 And as the wind doth drive the dust away. 
 So pensive hearts are spent with doleful cries. 
 And cares distract the mind with pinching pain. 
 But all in vain I do my cares ° lament^ 
 My sorrow doth by sobs, sighs, tears increase. 
 Though sobs, sighs, tears, my torments do declare. 
 Sobs, sighs, nor tears move not her flinty mind. 
 
 IV. 
 
 I am cast out of her ungrateful mind. 
 
 And she hath sworn I shall in vain consume p 
 
 » Bear, 4'^. « Case, 4*^. P The fourth edition reads, 
 
 My sorrow doth by sobs and sighs increase. 
 
33aUidon'^ ^sJocttcal 2^|)apsioD5 21 
 
 My weary daysj my life must waste away, 
 
 Consum'd with pain, and worn with restless criesj <> 
 
 So Philomel too much opprest with pain. 
 
 By his misdeed that causeth her lament. 
 
 Doth day and night her mournful lays increase. 
 
 And to the woods her sorrows doth declare. 
 
 Some ease it is, hid ao rwws to declare. 
 But too small ease to such a grieved mind; 
 
 It nought araili my tormrntf to declare, 
 Since that my tears cauoot her flinty mind 
 
 IT. 
 
 To pHy morei I am cut oat of mind. 
 
 So hath she twom I tball in pain tonmnne.—- 
 
 « Consum'd with deadly pain and restless cries, 4*^. 
 
 ' The concltuion of this poem is materially Taried in the fourth 
 edition, with an addition of four lines: it is thus printed. 
 It is some ease hid sorrows to declare. 
 But too small ease to such a gricTed mind; 
 As by repeating cries doth more consume. 
 To end that which be finds at all no way. 
 But careful sighs mingled with rutbful cries, 
 (A simple salve to cure so great a pain :) 
 Come then ye ghastly owb, help me lament. 
 With fearful shrieks, and as your shrieks increase. 
 
 TI. 
 
 When as the sun departing doth increase. 
 The doubled shadows which as sighs declare 
 The night draws near : so 1 to ease my mind. 
 Here will augment my plaints; so to consume 
 
22 Babi$on'$ poetical ]^]^ap«ioti5. 
 
 Which by repeating woes doth more consume^ 
 To end which woes I find at all no way, 
 (A simple salve to cure so great a pain,) 
 But to Death's deafen' d ears to bend my cries. 
 Come then, ye ghastly owls, help me lament. 
 And as my cries, so let your shrieks increase. 
 
 My loathed life : and though yon fly away 
 Soon as the day returns and cease your cries. 
 Yet I unhappy wretch opprest with pain, 
 But day and night am forced to lament, 
 
 VII. 
 
 So foul a change : but while I thus lament 
 My grief with tears, the more for to increase 
 My woe, with scoffs, my state she doth declare. 
 To him who first from me her wanton mind 
 By gifts did win : since when I still consume 
 Ay more and more ; ne find I any way 
 To ease my mind : but thus with moumfol cries 
 I living die, and dying live in p^n. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 And now adieu delight, and farewell pain ; 
 Adieu vain hope ; I shall no more lament 
 Her feigned faith which did my woes increase: 
 And ye to whom my griefs I thus declare ; 
 Ye which have heard the secrets of my mind. 
 And seen my lingering life in pain consume ; 
 Adieu ye woods and waters, hence away; 
 By death I must, and cease my ruthful cries. 
 
 Ye which hear not my cries, nor know my pain, 
 Yet do my chance lament, let pity increase : 
 Your grief by tears declare : To ease your mind, 
 Witness how I consume and waste a^s-av. 
 
19abi$(on'<( ^^ortical ll[)ap{(oOs 23 
 
 YI. 
 
 For as your shrieks (the tunes of death) increase 
 When sun is set, and shadows do declare 
 The night's approach, so I from my dark mind 
 Since m\ bright sun is fled, in cries consume 
 My night of woes; and though you fly away 
 Soon as the day returns, and cease your cries. 
 Yet I by day find no release of pain; 
 But day and night so foul a change lament. 
 
 VII. 
 
 But while I thus to senseless things lament, 
 Ruth of my case in them thereby d'increase; 
 Which she feels not; with scoffs she doth declare 
 My pangs to him, who first her wanton mind 
 From mc did win: since when I still consume 
 Like wax gainst fire, like snow that melts away 
 Before the sun: thus, thus, with mournful cries, 
 1 living die, and dying, live in pain. 
 
 And now adieu delight, and farewell pain; 
 Adieu vain hope; I shall no more lament •> 
 Her fained faith, which did my woes increase; 
 And ye to whom my griefs I thus declare; 
 Ye which have heard the secrets of my mind, 
 And seeing then my lingering life in pain consume. 
 Grove, brook, and birds, adieu! now hence away 
 By death 1 will, and cease my deadly cries. 
 
24 ... . Sabi$on*$ poetical i^^apjiotg. 
 
 A DIALOGUE IN IMITATION OF THAT BETWEEN 
 HORACE ANT) UDIA. 
 
 BeginniDg **Do/iec gratus eram tibiy Sfc" 
 LOVER. 
 
 While thou didst love me, and that neck of thine 
 More sweet, white, soft, than roses, silver, down. 
 Did wear a neck-lace of no arms but mine^ 
 I envied not the King of Spain his crown. 
 
 LADY. 
 
 \Miile of thy heart I was sole sovereign. 
 And thou didst sing none but Mellinae's name. 
 Whom for brown Cloe* thou dost now disdain, 
 I envied not the Queen of England's fame. 
 
 LOVER. 
 
 Though Cloe * be less fair, she is more kind} 
 Her graceful dancing so doth please mine eye. 
 And through mine ears her voice so charms my mind. 
 That so dear she may live, I'll willing die. 
 
 LADY. 
 
 Though Crispus cannot sing my praise in verse, 
 I love him so for skill in tilting shown. 
 And graceful managing of coursers fierce. 
 That his dear life to save, I'll lose mine own. 
 
 * Altered to Cole in third, and followed in fourth edition. 
 
Sabi{ion'$( i^octical Ul}apj(oOs 25 
 
 LOVER. 
 
 What if I sue to thee again for grace. 
 And sing thy praises sweeter than before. 
 If I out of my heart blot Cloe's face, 
 Wilt thou love me again, love him no more ^ 
 
 LADY. 
 
 Though he be feirer than the morning star. 
 Though lighter than the floating cork thou be. 
 And than the Irbh Sea more angry far. 
 With thee I wish to live, and die with thee. 
 
 A HTMN IN PRAISE OF MUSIC. 
 
 Jl RAISE, Pleasure, Profit, is that threefold bond. 
 Which ties men's minds more fast than gorgon knot: 
 Each one some draws, all three none can withstand^ 
 Of force conjoin'd, conquest is hardly got. 
 Then Music may of hearts a monarch be. 
 Wherein Praise, Pleasure, Profit, so agree. 
 
 Praise-worthy Music is, for God it praiseth; 
 And pleasant, for brute beasts therein delight; 
 Great profit from it flows, for why it raiseth 
 The mind o'erwhelmeil with rude Passion's might; 
 
26 Sabt^on'^ poetical ISl|)ap$oDs« 
 
 When against Reason Passions fond rebel. 
 Music doth that confirm, and these expel. 
 
 If ^Music did not merit endless praise, 
 M'ould heavenly spheres delight in silver round ? 
 If joyous pleasure were not in sweet lays. 
 Would they in court and country so abound ? 
 And profitable needs we must that call, 
 \Miich pleasure linkt with praise doth bring to all. 
 
 Heroic minds, with praises most incited. 
 
 Seek praise in Music, and therein excel; 
 
 God, man, beasts, birds, with Music are delighted; 
 
 And pleasant 'tis which pleaseth aU so well. 
 
 No greater profit is than self-content; 
 
 And this with Music bring, and care prevent. 
 
 WTien antique poets Music's praises teU, 
 They say it beasts did please, and stones did move; 
 To prove more dull than stones, than beasts more fell. 
 Those men which pleasing Music did not love. 
 They feign'd, it cities built, and states defended. 
 To shew the profit great on it depended. 
 
 Sweet birds, poor mens' musicians, never slake 
 
 To sing sweet Music's praises day and night ; 
 
 The dying swans in Music pleasure take. 
 
 To shew that it the dying can delight; 
 
 In sickness, health, peace, war, we do it need. 
 Which proves sweet Music's profit doth exceed. 
 
r 
 
 Dabijion'ji i,3oetital tttjap^oDji 27 
 
 But I, by niggard praising, do dispraise 
 Praise-worthy Music in my worthless rhymej 
 Ne can the pleasing profit of sweet lays 
 Any save learned Muses well define. 
 
 Yet all by these rude lines may clearly see. 
 Praise, pleasure, profit, in sweet Music be. 
 
 TEN SONNETS TO PHILOMEL. 
 
 ly the Mae- 
 
 •OMNET 1. 
 UPON LOVE'S ENTERING BY HIS EAKS. 
 
 Oft did I hear, «mr Eyes the passage were. 
 By which Love entered to assail our hearts; 
 Therefore I guarded them, and void of fear 
 Neglected the defence of other parts. 
 
 Love knowing this, the usual way forsook; 
 And seeking, found a by-way by mine Ear: 
 At which he entering, my heart prisoner took. 
 And unto thee, sweet Philomel, did bear. 
 
 Yet let my heart, my heart to pity move. 
 
 Whose pain is great, although small fault appear^ 
 First it lies bound in fettering chains of Love, 
 Then each day it is rack'd with hope and fear. 
 
 And with Love's flames 'tis evermore consumed. 
 
 Only because to Love thee it presumed. 
 
28 Babi0on*s i^oetical l^j^apgotg. 
 
 SONNET 11. 
 
 O WHY did Fame my heart to Love betray. 
 By telling my Dear's virtue and perfection? 
 Why did my traitor ears to it convey 
 That Syren song, cause of my Heart's infection? 
 
 Had I been deaf, or Fame her gifts concealed. 
 Then had my heart been free from hopeless Love; 
 Or were my state likewise by it revealed, 
 ^^ell might it Philomel to pity move. 
 
 Then should she know how Love doth make me languish. 
 Distracting me 'twixt hope and dreadful fear: 
 Then should she know my care, my plaints and anguish. 
 All which for her dear sake I meekly bear. 
 
 Yea I could quietly Death's pains abide. 
 
 So that she knew that for her sake I died. 
 
 SONNET III. 
 
 OF HIS OWN, AND OF HIS MISTRESS'S SICKNESS 
 AT ONE TIME. 
 
 ISiCKNESS intending my Love to betray. 
 Before I should sight of my Dear obtain. 
 Did his pale colours in my face display. 
 Lest that my fa^ our might her favour gain. 
 
 Yet not content herewith, like means it wrought. 
 My Philomel's bright beauty to deface: 
 And Nature's glory to disgrace it sought. 
 That by conceived Love it might displace. 
 
Babi^on'd i^oettcal ifl|)ap]iot)D 29 
 
 But my firm Love could this assault well bear, 
 WTiich Virtue had not beauty for his ground ; 
 And yet bright beams of beauty did appear 
 Through Sickness' veil, which made my love abound: 
 If sick, thought I, her beauty so excel. 
 How matchless would it be if she were well? 
 
 SONNET iv. 
 ANOTHER OF HER SICKNESS AND RECOVERY. 
 
 It ALB Death himself did love my Philomel, 
 When he her virtues and rare beauty saw; 
 Therefore he sickness sent; which should expel 
 His rival life, and my Dear to him draw: 
 
 But her bright beauty dazzled so his eyes. 
 That his dart life did miss, though her it hit; 
 Yet not therewith content, new means he tries. 
 To bring her unto Death, and make life flit: 
 
 But Nature soon perceiving that he meant 
 To spoil her only Phoenix, her chief pride. 
 Assembled all her force, and did prevent 
 The greatest mischief that could her betide. 
 
 So both our lives and loves Nature defended; 
 
 For had she died, my love and life had ended. 
 
30 iiabt«(on'0 poetical I^Jbap^oDg. 
 
 SONNET V. 
 
 ALLUSION TO THESEUS' VOYAGE TO CREETE, 
 AGAINST THE MINOTAUR. 
 
 3Xy Love is sail'd, against dislike to fight, 
 \Miich, like vild monster, threatens his decay; 
 The ship is Hope, which by Desire's great might 
 Is swiftly borne towards the wished bay; 
 
 The company which with my Love doth fare, 
 (Though met in one) is a dissenting crew; 
 They are Joy, Grief, and never-sleeping Care, 
 And Doubt which ne'er believes good news for true; 
 
 Black Fear the flag is, which my ship doth bear, 
 T\Tiich, Dear, take down, if my Love victor be; 
 And let white Comfort in this place appear. 
 When Love victoriously returns to me: 
 
 Lest I from rock Despair come tumbling down. 
 
 And in a sea of tears be forc'd to drown. 
 
 SONNET VI. 
 
 UPON HER LOOKING SECRETLY OUT AT A WINDOW 
 AS HE PASSED BY. 
 
 Once did my Philomel reflect on me 
 Her crystal-pointed eyes as I past by, 
 Thinking not to be seen, yet would me see; 
 But soon my hungry eyes their food did spy. 
 
SabijSon'g poetical i^bap^oDs 31 
 
 Alas! my Dear, couldst thou suppose, that fiace. 
 Which needs not envy Phoebus* chiefest pride. 
 Could secret be, although in secret place. 
 And that transparent glass such beams could hide? 
 
 But if 1 had been blind, yet Love's hot flame, 
 Kindled in my poor heart by thy bright eye. 
 Did plainly shew when it so near thee came. 
 By more the usual heat than cause was nigh; 
 
 Su though thou hidden wert, my heart and eye 
 
 Did turn to thee by mutual sympathy. 
 
 SONNET VII. 
 
 VV HBN time nor place ^ould let me often view 
 Nature's chief mirror, and my sole delight. 
 Her lively picture in my heart I drew. 
 That 1 might it behold both day and night; 
 
 But she, like Philip's son, scorning that I 
 
 Should portraiture, which wanting Apolles' art, 
 Commanded Love (who nought dare her deny) 
 To bum the picture which was in my heart. 
 
 The more Love bum'd, the more her picture shin'd: 
 The more it shin'd, the more my heart did burn: 
 So what to hurt her picture was assign'd. 
 To my heart's ruin and decay did turn. 
 
 Love could not bum the Saint; it was divine; 
 
 And therefore fir'd my heart, the Saint's poor shrine. 
 
32 l^abisjon'^ ^^cctical J^fjap^oDg. 
 
 SONNET VIII. 
 
 W HEN as the sun eclipsed is, they say. 
 It thunder, lightning, rain, and wind portendethj 
 And not unlike but such things happen may, 
 Sith like effects my sun eclipsed sendeth. 
 
 Witness my throat, made hoarse with thundering cries. 
 And heart with Love's hot flashing lightnings fired3 
 Witness the showers, that still fall from mine eyes. 
 And breast with sighs like stormy winds near rived. 
 
 Shine then, (O) once again, sweet sun, on me. 
 And with thy beams dissolve clouds of despair. 
 Whereof these raging meteors framed be 
 In my poor heart, by absence of my fairj 
 
 So shalt thou prove thy beams, thy heat, thy light. 
 
 To match the sun in glory, grace and might. 
 
 SONNET IX. 
 
 UPON SENDING HER A GOLD RING, WITH THIS 
 POSY, PURE AND ENDLESS. 
 
 JLf you would know the Love which I you bear. 
 Compare it to (the) Ring which your fair hand 
 Shall make more precious, when you shall it wear; 
 So my Love's nature you shall understand: 
 
 Is it of metal pure? so shall you prove 
 
 My Love, which ne'er disloyal thought did stain. 
 Hath it no end? so endless is my Love, 
 Unless you it destroy with your disdain. 
 
i9abi«(on')( poetical i^|)apjtoD5 33 
 
 Doth it the purer wax, the more 'tis triod> 
 So doth my Love: yet herein they dissent, 
 That whereas gold, the more 'tis purified. 
 By waxing less, doth shew some part is spent; 
 
 My Love doth wax more pure by your more trying. 
 
 And yet increaseth in the purifying. 
 
 SONNET X. 
 
 3^1 Y cruel Dear having captiv'd my heart. 
 
 And bound it fiist in chains of resistless Love, 
 
 Requires it out of bondage to depart; 
 
 Yet is she sure from her it camiot move. 
 "Draw back," said she, **y9ur hopeless love from me; 
 
 Your worth requires a far more worthy place^ 
 
 Unto your suit though I cannot agree 
 
 Full many will it lovingly embrace." 
 *• It may be 80," my Dear, " but as the sun, 
 
 ^Vlien it appears doth make the stars to vanish; 
 
 So when yourself into my thoughts do run. 
 
 All others quite out of my heart you banish. 
 The beams of your perfection shine so bright. 
 That straightway they dispel all others' light." 
 
 J. D. 
 
34 Sabt{son'0 i^Soettcal l^j^ap^otis. 
 
 A LOTTERY PRESENTED BEFORE THE LATE QUEEN'S 
 MAJESTY AT THE LORD CHANCELLOR'S HOUSE, 
 
 1601. 
 
 By the same. 
 
 A Mariner with a box under his arm, contidnin^ all the several things following, supposed 
 to come from the Carrick, came into the presence singing this song. 
 
 C^YNTHiA, Queen of seas and lands. 
 
 That fortune every where commands. 
 
 Sent forth Fortune to the sea. 
 
 To try her fortune every way. 
 There did I Fortune meet, which makes me now to sing; 
 There is no fishing to the sea, nor service to the king. 
 
 All the Nymphs of Thetis' train 
 
 Did Cynthia's fortune' entertain: 
 
 Many a jewel, many a gem. 
 
 Was to her fortune brought by them. 
 Her fortune sped so well, as makes me now to sing. 
 There is no fishing to the sea, nor service to the king. 
 
 Fortune that it might be seen. 
 
 That she did ser^ e a royal Queen, 
 
 A frank and royal hand did bear. 
 
 And cast her favours every where. 
 Some toys fell to my share, which makes me now to sing. 
 There is no fishing to the sea, nor service to the king. 
 
 Fortunes, 3^. 
 
Sabi^on'd ^^octical £lJbap$(oDs 35 
 
 AND THE SONG ENDED. HE UTTEBED THIS 8H0BT SPEECH : 
 
 God tare you, fair Ladies mil; and for my part, if ever I be brought to 
 answer for" my tint, God forgive me my tharking, and lay usury to my 
 charge. I am a Mariner, and am now come from the tea, where I had 
 the fortune to light upon these few trifles. I must confess I came but 
 lii^htly hy them; but I no sooner bad them, but I made a tow, that as 
 they came to my hands by Fortune, so I would not part with them but by 
 Furtuoe. To that end I bare CTer since carried these lots about me, that 
 if 1 met with fit company, I might divide my booty among them. And 
 now (I thank my good fortune) I am lighted into the best company of the 
 world, a company of the fairest Ladies that ever I saw. Come, Ladies, 
 try your furtnnes, and if any light upon an unfortunate blank, let her 
 think that Furtune doth but mock her in these trides, and means to 
 pleasure her in greater matters. 
 
 THE LOTS. 
 
 1. Fortune's Wheel. 
 Fortune must now no more on triumph ridcj 
 The wheels are yours, that did her chariot* guide. 
 
 2. A Purse. 
 
 You thrive, or would, or mayj your lot's a purse; 
 Fill it with gold and you are ne'er the worse. 
 
 3. J Mask. 
 
 Want you a mask? here; Fortune gives you one; 
 Yet Nature gives the rose, and lilly, none. 
 
 4. J Looking-glass. 
 Blind Fortune doth not see how fair you be. 
 But gives a glass that you yourself may see. 
 
 » Omitted, 3«* and 4^. ^ Chariots, 3^ and 4»»». 
 
36 Sabigon'^ ^^Of tical l^j^ap^otig. 
 
 5. A Handkerchief. 
 Whether your seem to weep, or weep indeed. 
 This handkerchief will stand you well in stead. 
 
 6. A plain Ring. 
 Fortune doth send'' you, hap it well or ill. 
 This plain gold ring to wed you to your will. 
 
 7. A Ring with this Posy. 
 
 As faithful as I find. 
 
 Your hand by Fortune on this ring doth light. 
 And yet the words doth* hit your humour right. 
 
 8. A Pair of Gloves. 
 Fortune these gloves to you in challenge sends. 
 For that you love not fools that are her friends. 
 
 9. A Dozen of Points. 
 You are in every point a lover true. 
 And therefore Fortune gives the points to you. 
 
 10. A Lace. 
 Give her the lace that loves to be straight lac'd. 
 So Fortune's little gift is aptly plac'd. 
 
 11. A Pair of Knives. 
 Fortune doth give these pair of knives to you. 
 To cut the thread of Love if 't be not true. 
 
 12. A Girdle. 
 By Fortune's girdle you may happy he; 
 But they that are less happy are more free. 
 
 * Lend, 4*^. » Do, 3"* and 4*'». 
 
i3abi{ton'$ poetical iftj^apdoDs 37 
 
 13. ^ Pair of HyUing-tables. 
 These tables may contain your thoughts in part. 
 But write not all that's written in your heart. 
 
 14. ^ Pair of Garters. 
 Though you have Fortune's garters, you must be 
 More staid and constant in your^ steps than she. 
 
 15. A Coif and Crou-cloth. 
 Frown in good earnest^ or be sick in jest^ 
 This coif and cross-cloth will become you best. 
 
 16. J Scarf 
 Take you this scarf, bind Cupid hand and foot. 
 So Love must ask you leave before she * shoot. 
 
 17- A Falling Band. 
 Fortune would have*' you rise, yet guides your hand 
 From other lots, to take the falling band. 
 
 18. i^ Stomacher. 
 This stomacher is full of windows wrought, 
 Yet none through them can see into your thought. 
 
 \0. A Pair of Scissors. 
 These sclssars do your housewifery bewray. 
 You love to work though you were*** born to play. 
 
 20. A Chain. 
 Because you scorn Love's captive to remain. 
 Fortune hath sworn to lead you in a chain. 
 
 y Omitted in second edition. 
 « He, 8* and 4«»«. '• Make, 4»»'. ^^ Are, 4»»». 
 
3S Babi^on'^ poetical Mj^ap^oDg. 
 
 21. A Prayer Book. 
 Your fortune may prove good another day. 
 Till Fortune come, take you a book to pray. 
 
 22. A Snuftkin. 
 'Tis summer yet, a snuftkin is your lot. 
 But 'twill be winter one day, doubt you not. 
 
 23. A Fan. 
 You love to see, and yet to be unseen. 
 Take you this fan to be your beauty's screen. 
 
 24. A Pair of Bracelets. 
 Lady, your hands are fallen into a snare. 
 For Cupid's manacles these bracelets are. 
 
 25. A Bodkin. 
 Even w^ith this bodkin you may live unharmed. 
 Your beauty is v^dth Virtue so well armed. 
 
 26. A Necklace. 
 
 Fortune gives your fair neck this lace to wear, 
 God grant a heavier yoke it never bear. 
 
 27. A Cushinet. 
 
 To her that little cares what lot she wins. 
 Chance gives a little cushinet to stick pins. 
 
 28. A Dial. 
 The dial's yoursj watch time lest it be lost. 
 Yet they most'^'^ lose it, that do**** watch it most. 
 
 *' Must, 4lh. «*«' Doth, 4th. 
 
Babidon'fi poetical iaS}a|>i»)D5 39 
 
 29. A Nutmeg with a blank Parchment in it. 
 This nutmeg holds a blank but Chance doth hide it. 
 Write your own wish, and Fortune will provide it. 
 
 30. Blank. 
 
 Wot you not why Fortune gives you no prizcj 
 Good faith, she saw you not, she wants her eyes. 
 
 31. Blank. 
 
 You are so dainty to be pleas'd, God wot, 
 Chance knoi^-s not what to give you for a lot. 
 
 32. Blank. 
 
 "Tis pity such a hand should draw in vain. 
 Though it gain nought, yet shall it pity gain. 
 
 33. Blank. 
 
 Nothing's your lot, that's more than can be told. 
 For nothing is more precious than gold. 
 
 34. Blank, 
 
 You fEiin would have but what, you cannot tell: 
 In giving nothing Fortune serves you well. 
 
 J. D." 
 
 •• Sir J. D. 4«*. 
 
IR JOHN DAVLES, whose name is tubscribed to 
 the greater portion of the Poems, which form this 
 First Part of "Davison's Poetical Rhapsody," 
 or to whom the initials J. D. appended to several 
 of them, have been generally appropriated, was 
 born atTisbury, in Wiltshire, sent to Oxford, 1585, 
 removed to the Middle Temple, 1588; sent Solicitor General to Ireland, 
 1603; and immediately afterwards advanced to be Attorney General in 
 that kingdom. In 1616, he returned from Ireland, and was often asso- 
 ciated as a Judge of Assize in England. In 1620 he sat in the English 
 Parliament as representative for Newcastle-under-Line ; and died Dec. 
 7, 1626, aet. 57, when he expected the appointment of Chief Justice of 
 England. His celebrated philosophical poem, entitled ** Nosce Teip- 
 sum," was published before the close of Queen Ellizabeth's reign. It 
 has gone through several editions, and is to be found in ** Chalmers's 
 Collection of Poets;" which also contains his '* Orckestra" and his 
 '* Hymns of Astrea." But it contains none of the poems now reprinted. 
 *' Davies's Epigrams" are appended to ^^Marlow's Translation of 
 Ovid's Epistles y" printed at Middleburgh, 1596. 
 
 The Reader need not be cautioned against confounding this Author 
 with John Davies of Hereford, a copious poetaster. 
 
 The poem at pjige 1 7 the Editor suspects to be Raleigh '*, as well 
 from internal evidence, as because it had the signature of Anomos in the 
 edition of 1602. 
 
 A poem of Francis Davison found its way into this portion before 
 the present arrangement was finally settled. 
 
9Mfri$m*f poetical igl|)ap0oDs 41 
 
 A DIALOGUE BETWEEN TWO SHEPHERDS, THENOT 
 AND PIERS, IN PRAISE OF ASTREA. 
 
 ThtMt. 
 
 SING divine Asthba's praise, 
 
 O Muses ! help my wits to raise, 
 And heave my verses higher. 
 Piers. Thou need'st* the truth, but plain- 
 ly teU, 
 
 Which much 1 doubt thou can'st not well. 
 Thou art so oft a liar. 
 
 Them. If in my song no more I show. 
 
 Than heaven, and earth, and sea do know. 
 Then truly I have spoken. 
 Pien. Sufhceth not no more to name; 
 
 But being no less, the like, the same. 
 Else laws of truth be broken. 
 
 Then. Then say, she is so good, so fair. 
 
 With all the earth she may compare. 
 Not Momus' self denying. 
 Piers. Compare may think where likeness holds. 
 Nought like to her the earth enfolds, 
 I look'd to find you lying. 
 
 ■ Needs, 4»*. 
 

 ~ 
 
 42 Salit^on'sJ i^oetttal Hj^ap^oUg. 
 
 
 Then. Astrea sees with Wisdom's sight. 
 
 
 AsTREA works by Virtue's might. 
 
 
 And jointly both do stay in her. 
 
 
 Piers. Nay, take from them, her hand, her mind; 
 
 
 The one is lame, the other blind: 
 
 
 Shall still your lying stain her? 
 
 
 Then. Soon as Astrea shews her fece. 
 
 
 Straight every ill avoids the place. 
 
 
 And every good aboimdeth. 
 
 
 Piers. Nay, long before her face doth show. 
 
 
 The last doth come, the first doth go. 
 
 
 How loud this lie resoundeth. 
 
 
 Then. Astrea is our chiefest joy. 
 
 
 Our chiefest guard against annoy. 
 
 
 Our chiefest wealth, our treasure. 
 
 
 Piers. Where chiefest are, there others be. 
 
 
 To us none else but only she; 
 
 
 When wilt thou speak in measure? 
 
 
 Then. Astrea may be justly said. 
 
 
 A field in flowery robe array'd. 
 
 
 In season freshly springing. 
 
 
 Piers. That spring endures but shortest time. 
 
 
 This never leaves Astrea's clime; , 
 
 
 Thou liest, instead of singing. 
 
 
 Then. As heavenly light that guides the day. 
 
 
 Right so doth shine each lovely ray. 
 
 
 
 J 
 
Sabtsion'd poetical Uf)ap$oD5 43 
 
 That from Astrea flieth. 
 Piert. Nay, darkness oft that light in clouds, 
 Astbea's beams no darkness shrouds; 
 How loudly Thenot lieth! 
 
 Then. Astrba rightly term I may 
 A manly palm, a maiden bay. 
 Her verdure never dying. 
 Piert. Palm oft is crooked, bay is low; 
 
 She still upright, still high doth grow: 
 Good Thenot leave thy lying > 
 
 Then. Then Piers, of friendship tell me why. 
 My meaning true, my words should lie. 
 And strive in vain to raise her? 
 Piers. Words from conceit do only rise. 
 Above conceit her honour flies; 
 
 But silence, nought can praise her. 
 
 UPON HIS MEETING WITH HIS T^'O WORTHY FRIENDS 
 
 AND FELLOW POETS, SIR EDWARD DYER, 
 
 AND M. FULKE GREVILE. 
 
 By Sir pidUp Sgdmey. 
 
 tl oiN mates in mirth to me, 
 Grant pleasure to our meeting; 
 Let Pan our good god see. 
 How grateful is our greeting. 
 
44 BabtiSon'^ poetical ifl^ap^oDg* 
 
 Join hearts and hands, so let it be. 
 Make but one mind in bodies three. 
 
 Ye hymns, and singing skill 
 Of God Apollo's giving. 
 Be prest our reeds to fill. 
 With sound of music living. 
 Join hearts and hands, 8fc. 
 
 Sweet Orpheus' harp, whose sound 
 The stedfast mountains moved. 
 Let here thy skill abound. 
 To join sweet friends beloved. 
 Join hearts and hands, 8fc. 
 
 My two and I be met, 
 A happy blessed Trinity; 
 As three most jointly set. 
 In firmest band of unity. 
 
 Join hands, Src. 
 
 Welcome my two** to me. 
 The number best beloved. 
 Within my heart you be 
 In friendship imremoved. 
 Join hands, Sfc. 
 
 Give leave your flocks to range; 
 Let us the while be playing: 
 
 ^ E. D..F. G..P. S. 
 
9abi«on'f( )^oet(caI il|)8p5(oDs 45 
 
 Within the Ebny Grange, 
 Your flocks will not be straying. 
 Join hands, 8(c. 
 
 Cause all the mirth you can. 
 Since I am now come hither, 
 Who never joy, but when 
 I am with you together. 
 
 Join hand«, Ste 
 
 Like lovers do their love. 
 So joy I, in you seeing. 
 Let nothing me remove 
 From always with you being. 
 Join hands, 9te. 
 
 And as the turtle-dove 
 To mate with whom he livetb. 
 Such comfort, fervent love 
 Of you, to my heart giveth. 
 Join hands. &r. 
 
 Now joined be our hands. 
 
 Let them be ne'er asunder, 
 
 But link'd in binding bands 
 
 By metamorphosed wonder. 
 
 So should our severed bodies three 
 As one for ever joined be. 
 
46 ©aijidon*^ poetical ISli^apgotis. 
 
 DISPRAISE OF A COURTLY LIFE. ' 
 
 By the same. 
 
 Walking iu bright Phoebus' blaze. 
 
 Where with heat opprest I was, 
 
 I got to a shady wood, 
 
 ^^Tiere green leaves did newly budj 
 
 And of grass was plenty dwelling, 
 
 Deckt with pied flowers sweetly smelling. 
 
 In this wood a man I met. 
 On lamenting wholly set: 
 Rueing change of wonted state. 
 Whence he was transform 'd of late. 
 Once to Shepherd's God retaining. 
 Now in servile court remaining. 
 
 There he wandering malecontent. 
 Up and down perplexed went. 
 Daring not to tell to me. 
 Spake unto a senseless tree. 
 One amongst the rest electing. 
 These same words, or this eflFecting: 
 
 " My old mates I grieve to see. 
 Void of me in field to be. 
 Where we once our lovely sheep. 
 Lovingly like friends did keep, 
 Oft each others' friendship proving. 
 Never striving, but in loving. 
 
47 13abi*on'«J i)Joftical »|)apjJoDs. 
 
 But may Love abiding be 
 
 In poor Shepherd's base degree. 
 
 It belongs to such alone 
 
 To whom art of Love is known: 
 
 Seely shepherds are not witting. 
 
 What in art of Love is fitting. 
 
 Nay, what need the art to thow« 
 To whom we our love disclose? 
 It is to be used then. 
 When we do but flatter men: 
 Friendship true in heart assured. 
 Is by Nature's gifts procured. 
 
 Therefore Shepherds wanting skill. 
 Can Love's duties best fulfil; 
 Since they know not how to feign. 
 Nor with Love to cloak disdain. 
 Like the wiser sort, whose learning 
 Hides their inward will of harming. 
 
 Well was I, while under shade. 
 Oaten reeds me music made. 
 Striving with my mates in song. 
 Mixing mirth our songs among; 
 Greater was that Shepherd's treasure. 
 Than this false, fine, courtly pleasure. 
 
 Where, how many creatures be. 
 So many puft in mind I see. 
 

 - 
 
 39at)tjion'^ poetical IJl^apiSoDg. ... 48 
 
 
 Like tx) Juno's birds of pride. 
 
 
 Scarce each other can abide,- 
 
 
 Friends like to black swans appearing, 
 
 
 Sooner these than those in hearing. 
 
 
 Therefore Pan, if thou mayst be 
 
 
 Made to listen unto me. 
 
 
 Grant, I say, if seely man 
 
 
 May make treaty to god Pan, 
 
 
 That I, without thy denying. 
 
 
 May be still to thee relying. 
 
 : 
 
 Only for my two loves' sake,*^ 
 
 
 In whose love I pleasure take; 
 
 
 Only two do me delight 
 
 
 With their ever-pleasing sight; 
 
 
 Of all men to thee retaining. 
 
 
 Grant me with those two remaining. 
 
 
 So shall I to thee always. 
 
 
 With my reeds, sound mighty praisej 
 
 
 And first lamb that shall befall. 
 
 
 Yearly deck thine altar shall. 
 
 
 If it please thee be reflected. 
 
 
 And I from thee not rejected." 
 1 So I left him in that place. 
 
 
 
 Taking pity on his case; , 
 
 
 ^.. .^^..^ .^^^^^ .^^^.^^^^ ^ 
 
 
 •1 ^ Sir Ed. D. and M. F. G. 
 
 - 
 
Sabt0on'K poetical iEli^ap^Og 49 
 
 Learning tliis among the rest^ 
 That the mean estate is bestj 
 Better filled with contenting. 
 Void of wishing and repenting. 
 
 SONNET. 
 LOVE'S SBVXN DEADLY SINS.' 
 
 31.INB eye with all the deadly sins is fraught, 
 
 1 . First Proud, sith it presum'd to look so high; 
 A watchman being made, stood gazing by, 
 
 2. And Idle took no heed till I was caught: 
 S. And Envious bears envy, that my thought 
 
 Should in his absence be to her so nigh: 
 
 4. To kill my heart, mine eye let in her eye. 
 And so consent gave to a murder wrought: 
 
 5. And Covetous, it never would remove 
 
 From her fair hair, gold so doth please his sight. 
 
 6. Unchaste, a bawd between my heart and love: 
 
 7. A Glutton eye, with tears drunk every night. 
 
 These sins procured have a Goddess' ire; 
 Wherefore my heart is damn'd in Love's sweet fire. 
 
 * Omitted let and Sd. 
 * Omitted 3d and 4th. This is supposed to be Henry Constable. 
 
50 ... . I3abt«(on'$( poetical iflf)ap0ol)s* 
 
 SONNET. 
 TO TW'O MOST HONOURABLE AND VIRTUOUS LADIES AND 
 SISTERS, THE LADY MARGARET, COUNTESS OF CUM- 
 BERLAND, AND THE LADY ANNE, COUNTESS 
 OF WARWICK. 
 
 By the same. 
 
 JL E Sister Muses, do not ye ^ repine. 
 That I two Sisters do with nine comparej 
 Since each of these is far more truly rare. 
 Than the whole troop of all the heavenly nine. 
 
 But if ye ask me which is more divine, 
 I answer, like to their twin eyes they are. 
 Of which each is more bright than brightest star. 
 Yet neither doth more bright than other shine. 
 
 Sisters of spotless fame, of whom alone 
 
 Malicious tongues take pleasure to speak well. 
 
 How should I one*^ commend, sith either one 
 All things in heaven and earth so far excell? 
 
 The only praise I can you give, is this. 
 
 That one of you, like to the other is. 
 
 INSCRIPTIONS. 
 
 THISBE. 
 
 JL E woeful Sires, whose causely hate hath bred 
 Grief to yourselves, death to my love and me. 
 Let us not be disjoin' d when we are dead. 
 Though we alive conjoin'd could never be. 
 
 e You, 3d and 4th. *" You, 3d and 4th. 
 
iSabt^on'^ poetical l^^apjioDs 51 
 
 Tliough cruel stars divide b us two one bed. 
 Yet ill one tomb us two entombed see: 
 
 Like as the dart was one, and one the knife. 
 That did begin our love and our life. 
 
 CLYTEMNESTRA TO HER SON ORESTES, 
 Cinming to kill her /or mwrderimg kU Father Aoambmnon. 
 
 Hold, hold thy hand, vile son of viler mother. 
 Death I deserve : but, O! not by thy knife; 
 One parent to revenge wilt thou kill the other, *» 
 And give her death that gave thee (wretch) thy life? 
 Furies will plague thy murder execrable. 
 Stages will play thee, and all mothers curse thee: 
 To wound this womb or breast how art thou able, 
 Wlien the one (lid bear thee, and the other nurse thee? 
 
 AJ.VX. 
 
 J. HIS sword is mine, or will Laertes' son 
 
 Win this as he Achilles' armour won? 
 
 This sword which you, O Greeks, oft bath'd have known 
 
 In Trojan blood, I'll now bathe in mine own. 
 
 This fearless ' breast which all mine ^ enemies fierce 
 
 Have left unpierc'd, now 1 myself will pierce. 
 
 So men shall say, Ajax to none did yield 
 
 But t' Ajax self, and Ajax Ajax kill'd. 
 
 ^^^w*^.**-**-** « 
 
 f Denied, 3d aad 4th. * Tother, 4th. 
 
 » Fearful, 4th. ^ My, 4th. 
 
52 Babi^Ott'0 i^otttcal Uj^apsioOg. 
 
 ROMULUS. 
 
 J\ o common womb was fit me forth to bring. 
 But a pure virgin priest, child to a king. 
 No mortal father worthy was to breed me. 
 Nor human milk was fierce enough to feed me: 
 Therefore the God of War by wonder bred me. 
 And a she wolf by no less wonder fed me. 
 In fine, the Gods because earth was too base 
 T* entomb me dead, did me in heaven place. 
 
 FABRITIUS CURIO, 
 
 Who reftued gold of the Sammies, and discovered to King Pirrhus 
 
 his Physician that offered to poison him. 
 
 3Xy famous country values gold far less. 
 Than conquest brave of such as gold possess. 
 To be o'ercome with wealth I do not use. 
 And to o'ercome with poison I refuse. 
 No hand loves more than mine to give to many. 
 No heart hates more than mine to take of any. 
 With so firm steel Virtue my mind hath armed. 
 That not by gold, nor iron it can be harmed. 
 
 CATC UnCEN, 
 
 Who slew himself became he would not fall into Ctesar*s hands. 
 
 v^iESAR, thou hast o'ercome, to thy great fame. 
 Proud Germans, valiant Gauls, and Britains rude. 
 Rome's liberty (but to thine eternal shame) 
 And her great champion thou hast eke subdu'd. 
 
r 
 
 Babiison']! ^oetUal iflbapKol)? 53 
 
 Yet neither shall thy triumphs with my name 
 Be grac'd, nor aword be with my blood imbu'd. 
 
 Though all the conquer'd earth do now serve thee, 
 
 Cato will die unconquered, and free. 
 
 MADRIGAL. 
 
 jL HOUGH you be not content. 
 
 That I, poor worm, should love you. 
 As Cupid's power and your sweet beauty cause mej 
 
 Yet (dear) let pity move you 
 
 To give me your consent 
 To love my life, as law of Nature draws me. 
 And if my life I love, then must I too 
 Love your sweet self, for my life lives in you. 
 
 MADUGAL, 
 
 Borrowed out <ff a Greek Epigram. 
 
 JHb's rich enough, whose eyes behold thee; 
 
 Who hears thee sing a monarch is: 
 
 A demy-God who doth thee kiss. 
 
 And Love himself whose arms enfold thee. 
 
 MADRIGAL, 
 Upon her dreaming that the eaw him dead, 
 
 O FAIR, yet murdering eyes. 
 Stars of my miseries. 
 
54 Sabi^on'^ poetical i^Jbap^otig. 
 
 Wlio, while night clouds your beams. 
 How much you wish my death show in your dreams: 
 Is't not enough that waking you do spill me. 
 
 But you a-sleep must kill me? 
 
 kill me still while you your sleep are taking; 
 So you lend me kind looks while ^ you are waking. 
 
 The sound of thy sweet name, my dearest treasure. 
 Delights me more than sight of other faces; 
 A glimpse of thy sweet face breeds me more pleasure. 
 Than any others' kindest words and graces. 
 
 One gracious word that from thy lips proceedeth, 
 
 1 value more than others' dove-like kisses: 
 And thy chaste kiss in my conceit exceedeth. 
 Others' embraces, and Love's chiefest blisses. 
 
 SONNET. 
 
 When trait' rous Photine Caesar did present 
 With his great Rival's honourable head. 
 He taught his eyes a stream of tears to shed. 
 Hiding in his false heart his true content. 
 
 And Hannibal when Fortune's balance light, 
 
 Rais'd low-brought Rome, and sway'd proud Carthage 
 
 down. 
 While all but he, bewail'd their yielding town. 
 He laugh' d to ease his swelling heart's despight. 
 
 1 When, 4th. 
 
]9abtjion'$( poetical i^ijapdoDg 55 
 
 Thus cunning minds can mask, with diverse art« 
 Grief under feigned smiles, joy under tears: 
 Like Hannibal, I cannot hide my fears. 
 Setting clear looks upon a cloudy heart. 
 But let me joys ei\joy. Dear! you shall try 
 Caesar hid not his joys so well as I. 
 
 SONNET. 
 
 tVhilb Love in you did live, I only liv'd in you, 
 While you for me did bum, for you alone I burned. 
 While you did sigh for me, for you I sigh'd and 
 
 mourned; 
 Till you prov'd fidse to me, to you 1 was most true. 
 But since Love died in you, in you I live no more, 
 Your heart a servant new, mine a new saint enjoyeth; 
 My sight offends your eyes, mine eyes your sight an- 
 noy eth. 
 Since you held me in scorn, by you I set no store. 
 Yet if dead Love, if your late flames return. 
 
 If you lament your change, and count me your sole 
 
 treasure. 
 My love more fresh shall spring, my flame more bright 
 
 shall burn: 
 I'll love none else but you, and love you without mea- 
 sure. 
 If not, Untrue, farewell; in sand I'll sow no grain. 
 Nor plant my love, but where Love yields me love again. 
 
56 Babi^on'd poetical i^ftap^oDv. 
 
 SONNET. ... TO MISTRESS DIANA. 
 
 Jr HCEBus of all the Gods I wish to be; 
 Not of the world to have the overseeing: 
 For, of all things in the World's circuit being. 
 One only thing I always wish to see. 
 
 Not of all herbs the hidden force to know. 
 For, ah! my wound by herbs cannot be cured: 
 Not in the sky to have a place assured. 
 For my ambition lies on earth below. 
 
 Not to be Prince of the Celestial choir. 
 
 For I. one Nymph prize more than all the Muses; 
 Not with his bow to offer Love abuses. 
 For I Love's vassal am, and dread his ire. 
 
 But that thy light from mine might borrow'd be. 
 
 And fair Diana might shine under me. 
 
 MADRIGAL.... UPON HIS DEPARTURE. 
 
 Sure, Dear, I love you not: for he that loveth, 
 AVhen he from her doth part 
 That's mistress of his heart, 
 
 A deadly pain, a hellish torment proveth. 
 But when sad Fates did sever 
 
 Me far from seeing you, I would see ever: 
 I felt in my absenting 
 No pain, nor no tormenting. 
 
 For sense of pain how could he find. 
 
 That left his heart and soul behind. 
 
Babbon'd poetical lit)ap$oD£| 57 
 
 ECLOGUE. . . . ENTITLED " CUDDY." 
 
 A. LITTLE herd-groom, for he was no betf, 
 When course of year retum'd the pleasant spring. 
 At break of day, without-en further let, 
 Cust with hUuself his flock a-field to bring; 
 And for they had so long been pent with pain. 
 At sight of sun they scem'd to live again. 
 
 Such was the flock all bent to browse and play, 
 
 lUit nothing such their master was to see: 
 
 Down hung his drooping head, like rainy day; 
 
 His cheeks with tears, like springs, bedewed be. 
 His wringed hand such silent moan did make. 
 Well might you guess he was with love y'take. 
 
 Though while hb flock went feeding on the green. 
 And wantonly for joy of summer play'dj 
 All in despight, as if he n'ould be seen. 
 He cast himself to ground full ill appay'd: 
 
 Should seem their pleasance made him more conii)lain, 
 
 For joy in sight, not felt, is double pain. 
 
 " Unhappy Boy, why liv'st thou still," quoth he, 
 
 " And hiist thy deadly wound so long ago? 
 
 What hope of after hap sustaineth thee. 
 
 As if there might be found some ease of woe? 
 Nay, better die ten thousand times than live. 
 Since every hour new cause of death doth give. 
 
58 iSabison'g ^^oetical i^jbapj5otis. 
 
 The joyfiil sun, whom cloudy Winter's spite. 
 
 Had shut from us in watry fishes haske. 
 
 Returns again to lend the world his light. 
 
 And red as rose begins his yearly task. 
 His fiery steeds the steepy welkin beat. 
 And both the horns of climbing bull do heat. 
 
 But^ ah! no sun of grace aspires™ to me: 
 
 Close hid she lies, from whom I should have lights 
 
 The clouds of black Disdain so foggy be. 
 
 That blind I lie, poor boy, bereft of sight: 
 And yet I see the sun I seek to find. 
 And yet the more I see, the more am blind. 
 
 Thrice happy ground, whom, spoil'd with Winter's rage. 
 
 The heat of pleasant Spring renews again: 
 
 Unhappy I, whom " in my spring of age. 
 
 The frost of cold Despair hath well-nigh slain. 
 How shall I 'bide your stormy Winter's smart. 
 When Spring itself hath /rorwe my bloodless heart. 
 
 I see the beauty of thy flowers renewj 
 
 Thy mantle green with sundry colours spread: 
 
 Thou see' St in me a change of former hue. 
 
 Paleness for white, blackness for lively red. 
 
 A\1iat hope of harvest fruit, or summer flowers. 
 
 Since that my spring is drown'd with tears like showers. 
 
 ™ Appears, 4th. ■ Who, 3d and 4th. 
 
Dabi^on'it i^oetual U{)ap$oDs 59 
 
 And last of all, but Ueu'st of all to me, 
 Thou leany flock, that did'st of late lament; 
 And witness wast for shepherds all to see, 
 (Thy knees so weak, thy fleece so rou^h and rent) 
 
 That thou with pain didst pine away unfed. 
 
 All for thy master was with love misled. 
 
 Thou** 'g^nst as earst for^t thy former state. 
 And mnge amid the busks thyself to feed! 
 Fair fall thee little flock both rathe and late, 
 (Was never lover's sheep, that well did speed,) 
 Thou free, I bound, thou glad, I pin'd f in pain, 
 I strive to die, and thou to live fiill feun. 
 
 Woe worth the stund, wherein I took delight. 
 To frame the shifting of my nimble feet. 
 To cheerful sound of pipe in moon-shine night. 
 Such pleasance past at earst now makes me greet. i 
 I ween'd by night have shun'd the parching ray. 
 But night itself was twice more hot than day. 
 
 Then flrst of all, and all too soon for me, 
 I saw thilk lass, nay grav'd her in my brea^^t^ ' 
 Her crystal eyes more bright than moon to see. 
 Her eyes, her eyfes, that have rob'd me of rest, • 
 
 • Now, 4th. P Pine, 3d and 4th. 
 
 *< At erst does gar me greet, 4th. 
 ' Tea more then saw her too, 4th. 
 * Eyes, through which I am undo, 4th. 
 
60 Babi^on'^ poetical Jitap^oDg. 
 
 On them I gaz'd, then saw I to my cost. 
 Through too much sight mine only sight is lost. 
 
 WTiere been the dapper ditties that I dight. 
 And roundelays, and \arelays so soot? 
 WTiilom with Colin' s self compare I might j 
 For other swain to strive was little boot: 
 
 Such skill I hatl in making all above. 
 
 But all to little skill to conquer Love. 
 
 What helps it me to have my piping prais'd. 
 Of all save her, whom I would only please? 
 Nought care I, though my fame to sky be rais'd, * 
 For pleasant song that brings my heart no ease. 
 Wherefore both pipe and song I all forswear. 
 And former pleasance wHfully forbear." 
 
 With that he cast his look to welkin high. 
 And saw the double shadows flit away: 
 And as he glanc'd half in despight awry. 
 He spy'd the shepherd's star shut in the day: 
 
 Then rose, and homeward with his flock him went, 
 WTiose voice did help their master's case lament. 
 
 r-f^.r* .»■#^#^/■^ 
 
 Nought care I, though to sky my fame be rais'd. .4th edit. 
 
Babi^on'^ poetical iiljap^oDg 61 
 
 CUDDY'S EMBLEM. 
 Qu*4to per amor t'aquuta.* 
 
 TUK CBBISTIAM STOIC. 
 
 X HE virtuous man b free, though bound in chains, 
 Though poor, content, though banish'd, yet no stranger. 
 Though sick, in health of mind, secure in danger. 
 And o'er himself, the world, and fortune reigns. 
 
 Nor good haps, proud, nor bad, dcjcctetl make him. 
 To God's, not to man's will, lie frames each action: 
 He seeks no fame, but inwanl satisfaction. 
 And firmer stands, the more bad fortunes shake him. 
 
 ELEGY. 
 ON A WOMAN'S HEART. < 
 
 O FAITHLESS world, and thy most faithless part, 
 
 A woman's heart: 
 The true shop of variety, where sits 
 
 Nothing, but fiU, 
 And fevers of Desire, and pangs of Love, 
 
 ^V^lich toys remove! 
 Why was she bom to please, or I to trust 
 
 Words writ in dust? 
 Suffering her eyes to govern my despair. 
 
 My pain for air, 
 
 • L'aqoista, 4th. ' Fourth edit. • Omitted 4th edit. 
 
62 Babi^on'^ ^loctical iSl|)ap^oti2. 
 
 And fruit of time rewarded with untruth. 
 
 The food of youth. 
 Untrue she was, yet I believ'd her eyes. 
 
 Instructed spiesj 
 Till I was taught, that Love was but ^ school 
 
 To breed a fool. 
 Or sought she more than triumphs of denial. 
 
 To see a trial. 
 How fsLT her smUes commanded my weakness. 
 
 Yield and confess? 
 Excuse not now thy folly, nor her nature; 
 
 Blush and endure 
 As well thy shame, as ^ passions that were vain, 
 
 . And think thy gain. 
 To know that Love, lodg'd in a woman's breast. 
 
 Is but a jest. 
 
 LOVE'S EMBASSY, IN AN IAMBIC ELEGY. « 
 By Edmund Spenser. 
 
 U NHAPPY verse! the witness of my unhappy state. 
 Make thyself fluttering wings of thy fast flying thought. 
 And fly forth unto my love, wheresoever she be. 
 
 Whether lying restless in a heavy bed, or else 
 Sitting so cheerless at the cheerful board*, or else 
 Playing alone careless on her heavenly virginals. 
 
 " As, omitted 4th. "^ Omitted 1st and 2d. 
 
Babijion'jJ poetical J^ljapfioDg. 63 
 
 If in bed, tell her mine eyes can take no rest: 
 
 If at board, tell her that my mouth can taste no food: 
 
 If at her virginals, tell her I can hear no mirth. 
 
 Asked why, say waking Love suffcreth no sleep: 
 Say that raging Love doth appall the weak stomach: 
 Say that lamenting Love marreth the musical. 
 
 Tell her, that her pleasures were wont to lull me asleep: 
 Tell her, that her beauty was wont to feed mine eyes: 
 Tell her, that her sweet tongue was wont to make nie mirth. 
 
 Now do I nightly waste, wanting my kindly rest: 
 Now do I daily starve, wanting my lively food: 
 Now do I always die, wanting my timely mirth. 
 
 And if I waste, who will bewail my heavy chance? 
 And if 1 star\e, who will record my cursed end? 
 And if I die, who will say, this was Immerito? 
 
 A SONNET OF THE MOON. 
 
 Look how the pale Queen of the silent night 
 Doth cause the Ocean to attend upon her. 
 
 And he as long as she is in his sight. 
 
 With her full tide is ready her to honour: 
 
 * Cha. Best, 8d. 
 
64 19abt$on'$( poetical Mjbap^otis. 
 
 But when the silver waggon of the Moon 
 Is mounted up so high he cannot follow. 
 
 The sea calls home his crystal waves to moan. 
 And with low ebb doth manifest his sorrowj 
 
 So you, that are the sovereign of my heart. 
 Have all my joys attending on your will. 
 
 My joys low-ebbing when you do depart. 
 
 When you return, their tide my heart doth till. 
 So as you come, and as you do depart, 
 Joys ebb and flow within my tender heart. 
 
 A SONNET OF THE SUN. 
 
 A Jewel being a Su7i shining upon the Marigold, closed ^ a Heart of 
 Gold, sent to his Mistress, named Mary. 
 
 By Ch. B. * 
 
 X HE Sun doth make the marigold to flourish. 
 
 The Sun's departure makes it droop again^ 
 So golden Mary's sight my joys do nourish. 
 
 But by their ^ absence all my joys are slain. 
 The Sun the marigold makes live and die. 
 By her the Sun shines brighter, so may I. 
 Her smiles do grace ^* the Sun, and light the air. 
 
 Revive my heart, and clear the cloudy skyj 
 Her frowns the air make dark, the sun to lower. 
 
 The marigold to close, my heart to die, 
 
 y In, 3d and 4th. * Ch. Best, 3d. 
 
 '• Her, 3d and 4th. » * Glad, 3d and 4th. 
 
19abtj(on*)( i^octital l£l|bap)(oD5 65 
 
 By her the sun, the flower, the air, and I, 
 
 Shine and darken, spread, and close, live and die. 
 You are the Sun, you arc the golden Mary, 
 
 Passing the Sun in brightness, gold in power : 
 I am the flower whom you do make to vary; 
 
 Flourish when you smile, droop when you do lower. 
 Oh let this heart of gold, sun, and flower. 
 Still live, shine, and spring in your heart's bower. 
 
 UNION'S JEWEL. *k 
 ByUici 
 
 JJivERs rare gems in thee, O Union shine: 
 
 First seven Margarets in thy Jewel stand; 
 
 Matildas three, three Janes of regal line. 
 
 Two royal Marys, two Elizas, and 
 
 One Is'bel, Anne, Sibill, and Margery, 
 All royal gems, set princely, shine in thee. 
 
 But flrst in it doth Agasia shine. 
 Who first with Dutstus it began to make: 
 Then Marg'ret next, of our King Edgar's line. 
 Whom Malcolm, King of Scots, to wife did take; 
 Whose grandchild Maud, our Emp'ress, did conjoin, 
 Scots, Saxon, Norman blood in our King's line. 
 
 *^ The six following pieces were first inserted in the third edition, 
 where they conclude the volume, under the following head : Addit. per 
 Cka. Bettf Arm. In the fourth edition they fall into classes. 
 
66 19abt0on'0 i^octical i^Jbap^oDg. 
 
 For their child Maud, our first Henry did marry. 
 Of them Matilda, our said Emp'ress did spring: 
 By whose second husband our Kings did carry 
 Name of great Plantagenet, then Scots King: 
 
 First Alexander did Sibilla wed. 
 
 Who sprung from out William Conqueror's bed. 
 
 The third Matild' their first King David married. 
 Earl WaldofF's daughter, niece to great K, William: 
 Jane, our King John's daughter, thither was carried 
 By their second Alexander; after came 
 
 Their third King Alexander, who did marry 
 Another Marg'ret, daughter of our third Harry. 
 
 From them two did another Marg'ret spring. 
 Who, by Norway's prince, a fourth Marg'ret had. 
 Scots infant Queen: whom first Edward our king. 
 To have married to his son would have been glad. 
 So Scotland's Peers would too: her death said, nay, 
 W^hich only this great Union then did stay. 
 
 Though that most noble and victorious King, 
 This natural Union could not then advance: 
 Another he as great t' affect did bring. 
 When he his son married to th' heir of France, 
 Is'bel, by whom since all our Kings have claimed 
 The crow^n of France, which some of them have srained. 
 
 O" 
 
 Though this our second Edward did prevent. 
 That he from Scotland did not take his wife. 
 
Babt$on'g poetical Ki)apiioDD 67 
 
 His daughter Jaiie performed his intent 
 With second David, spending; there her life: 
 He did the child of second Edw^ird marry. 
 As third .\lexander did of your tliinl Harry. 
 
 .»1.H tici > 
 
 \\'ithout issue they died: then 
 Their first King Robert's daughter, Bruce by name, 
 Scots Queen by birth, must ueetls remcmb'rcti be: 
 By whom Lord Stewart did increase his fume. 
 From them second Robert, and James Stewart from him 
 Third Robert nam'd, whence first James did first begin. 
 
 .\ valiant Prince, who spent his youthful prime 
 In martial deeds, with our first Henry in France: 
 To whom our sixth King Henry in bis time, 
 Jane, our thinl £tl ward's grandchild, did advance 
 In marriage: she of Henrj- Bewford sprung, 
 Somerset's Earl, was virniini^ fuir, and young. 
 
 Fifth Margaret, Richmond's Countess, fortli did bring 
 Our seventh Henry, who one division ended 
 With Eliza, heir of our fourth E<iward King: 
 From both whom great'st Marg'ret of all descended: 
 From whom, and fourth James, fifth James Scottish King, 
 And from him Mar) Scots, last Queen, did spring. 
 
 Fourth James being dead, Marg'ret did Douglas marry j 
 They a daughter Marg'ret had. Earl Lenox wife: 
 Whose son. Lord Darnley, marrietl their last Mary, 
 Of whom comes Charles James, finisher of strife: 
 
68 i3abi$on'0 poetical iSlf)api5olig. 
 
 Who with Anne makes Union, by the childless death 
 Of our Queens, Mary and Elizabeth. 
 
 The rarest pearls, and richest Margarets all, 
 WTiich ever did in any Jewel stand: 
 The rarest Jewel too, and most angelical. 
 Almost made up by God and Nature's hand; 
 By men to be finish'd, to this Isle sent: 
 Then to be worn for her best ornament. 
 
 PANEGYRIC TO MY SOVEREIGN LORD THE KING. 
 
 By the same. 
 
 vTreat King, since first this Isle by Jove's own hand^ 
 Was set apart within great Ocean's arms: 
 And was appointed by herself to stand, 
 Fenc'd round about with rocks from foreign harms: 
 She into sundry parts hath oft been torn. 
 And greatest wounds by her own blows hath borne. 
 
 But all the fractions now which man did make. 
 Since it in one whole number Nature gave. 
 Are added up and brought to one great stakej 
 And being all sum'd up, one total have. 
 For Britain now to all the di^^dend, 
 In one whole quotient, all doth comprehend. 
 
 For thou the Monarch of this Western Isle, 
 Now all her shiver' d parts hast brought together: 
 
69 iSabtfSon'^ poetical iflSjap^oDj). 
 
 Spreading thy Empire's wings eight hundred mile 
 In length, and four in breadth, there staying neither; 
 But o'er Old Ocean's breast thy arm doth stretch 
 Through Ireland, making it to India reach. 
 
 To Judah thou the Tribes hast brought again, 
 VVliich by themaelTCS did in Samaria dwell: 
 Jordan by thee, whose stream did run amain. 
 Is now dried up, that every Tribe may well 
 To other go: thou hast broke down the wall. 
 Which Adrian made, and which we Pictic call. 
 
 Thou Virtue's Orb, where Fame is still ascendant. 
 
 And never can her highest age attain; 
 
 Conqueror of all hearts, all flatt'ries transcendant. 
 
 Who hold'st it loss to take, to give great gaio; 
 Of bounteous deeds the ever running spring. 
 To many wealth, to all dost gladness bring. 
 
 The Muse's darling, who with golden pen. 
 And silver'd tongue thy princely mind canst tell; 
 In whom learning, a Prince's richest gem. 
 Both human and divine, abounding dwell: 
 
 The great contriver of this tripple Isle, 
 
 In one imperial diadem and stile. 
 
 The royal product of the princely dove. 
 With England's Noah from Peace's Ark sent forth. 
 After War's deluge, who olive branch of Love 
 Dost bring with thee in thy return from North: 
 
Sabi^on*^ ^^oetical l^llbapeotjp 70 
 
 How joyfully did Britain reach her hand. 
 To take thee int' the Ark of this her Land. 
 
 With great Eliza, glory of her own. 
 Wonder of future times, true Church's nurse, 
 The ancient faith's receiver, on whom were shewn. 
 Heaven's blessings, all mens' prayers, no man's curse. 
 Fortune's favours. Nature's wealth, God's high grace. 
 The Muses lodge, all Virtue's dwelling place. 
 
 Our sun did set with great Elizabeth: 
 Before night, thou a new day-light did'st bringj 
 Our Summer's peace did close at her cold death. 
 Without War's winter thou renew'd'st our springj 
 All our live's joys with her dead seem'd to be. 
 Before entomb'd they were reviv'd by thee. 
 
 Centre of royal births, in whom do meet 
 Lines drawn from all the noble Conqueror's bloodj 
 Which ever in any part with warlike feet. 
 Of this great Isle's circumference have stood 
 With thy fair Queen, a sea, whither do run 
 Streams of all royal blood of Christendom. 
 
 Both royal plants^ whence princely branches spring. 
 Whereon grow our best fruits of Hope and Joy3 
 Great offsprings both of many a noble Kingj 
 An antidote she against this land's annoy. 
 In whose mild looks hath princely majesty 
 A marriage made with modest courtesy. 
 
Z)abt{(on'$i ^^octtcal i^bap^oDg. 
 
 i 
 
 She Virtue's book, bound in a golden cover. 
 Wherein Nature hath writ with God's own quill; 
 All Beauty's learning, where thou, her true lover, 
 May'st reatl sweet lectures of delight at will: 
 And on the frame of whose divinest feature 
 All gmces shine, that can be in a creature. 
 
 Sprung of a double, knit to u tripplc King, 
 Late quatlruple, the Holy number, three; 
 Grateful to God did seem more apt to bring 
 Peace to this land, with love and unity: 
 Plant royal, set by Juno in this land, 
 W hose ancestors by Mars here once did stand. 
 
 Siicretl beauty makes seem angelical. 
 
 Thee, heavenly wisdom, to the stars do raise; 
 
 Minerva her Apollo, thee do call, 
 
 Their darlings, both truest themes of all our praise; 
 Together live and love, and long do reign, 
 To our, to your, to G(nI's, joy, bliss and gain. 
 
72 I9abi0cn*0 ^^oetical Ul^ap^oDg. 
 
 A DEVISO. 
 DE LAPSU HOMINIS IN ADAM. 
 
 JLAUPER amahilis et venerahilis, est benedictus, 
 
 Dives inutilis, insatiabilis, est maledictus. 
 
 Qui bona negligit et mala diligit, intrat abyssum: 
 
 Nulla potent ia, nulla pecunia liberat ipsum, 
 
 Irremeabilis, insatiabilis, ilia vorago. 
 
 Hie ubi mergitur, horrida cemitur omnis imago, 
 
 Vir miserabilis Evaque flebilis hoc subierunt. 
 
 Hie cruciamina, per sua crimina, cum meruerunt. 
 
 Jussa Dei pia, jussa salubria si tenuissent. 
 
 Vir neque fcemina, nee sua semina, morte perissent, 
 
 Sed quia spemere iussaque solvere non timuere. 
 
 Mors gravis irruit hoc meritofuit, et periere, 
 
 Janua mortis passio fortis crimen eorum. 
 
 Attulit orbi semina morbi, totque malorum. 
 
 Ilia parentes, atque sequentes culpa peremit, 
 
 Atque piarum deliciarum munus ademit, 
 
 Flebilefatum dans cruciatum, dansque dolor em. 
 
 Ilia merenti perdere tanti regis honorem. 
 
 Est data scsvam causa per Evam perditionis, 
 
 Dum meliorem sperat honorem voce draconis, 
 
 Hoc male credens, nos quoque Uedens crimine magna, 
 
 Omnia tristi subdidit isti scecula damno, 
 
 Stirps miserorum plena dolorum postea crevit. 
 
 His quoque damnis pluribus annis subdita jievit . 
 
i9ab($on'j( )j)oni(al £lf)ap$oDs 73 
 
 A DEVICE. 
 OF THE FALL OF MAN IN ADAM.* 
 
 By the Mme. 
 
 J. HE poor man belov'd for nrtue approT'dj right blessed U he. 
 
 Where coretooa chuff who nerer hath enough, accursed shall be, 
 
 Who goodness rcjectetb, and ertl affectetb, shall fall in the pit, 
 
 No plenty of pence, sb^ free hia iran thence, no power nor wit, 
 
 Both unrepassable and onsntiable, that gniph will appear, 
 
 Inibog'd he shall be, where nooght he shall sec, bat horror and fear! 
 
 Adam unstable, and Eve rariable, the rery first time. 
 
 By falling from God, drserred this rod, (O horrible crime) 
 
 For bad they adhered to God, and him feared, by keeping his reed. 
 
 Then death bad nut come on, the man or the woman, or any their seed. 
 
 But when-as the man, from God's will began, basely to revolt. 
 
 For bis grieroos sia, Death came rushing in, and on him laid holt. 
 
 This i^-as the great crime, which at the first time, by craft of the deril. 
 
 Did bring in the seed, of sickness and need, and all other evil : 
 
 This was the sin which first did begin, our parents to kill. 
 
 And heaTcnly food prepar'd for our good, did utterly spill. 
 
 Unhappy the fate, which first soch a state, such sorrow did bring. 
 
 To him that had lost, so much to our coct, oar heavenly King, 
 
 The credulous Ere, 'twas she that did give, the cause of such evil, 
 
 Hoping that honour would come more upon her, deceived by the devil. 
 
 Believing of him, did make her to sin, to all our great loss. 
 
 For mankind e'er since, received from hence, an horrible cross. 
 
 For all the nations, through'all generations, which after have been. 
 
 With grief of their heart have tasttd the smart, of that primitive sin. 
 
 ►■#^^**»*r#»^»»»^>'.4 
 
 * In the third cditioa the Latin and Translation are printed parallel on the 
 two page*} but not to in the fourth, where they follow. In the third there is not 
 any break of the English lines. J. H. 
 
74 I3abi$on'j3 poetical i^j^ap^otis. 
 
 BE RESTITUTIONE HOMINIS PER CHRISTUM. 
 
 Sed Deus Omnipotens, qui verbo cuncta creavit, 
 Sic cecidisse dolens homines quos semper amavit, 
 Ipse sunm verbum transmisit ad injima mundi, 
 Exulibus miseris aperire viam redeundi, 
 Filius ergo Dei descendit ab arce superna, 
 Nunquam discedens d majestate patema. 
 Qui corpus sumens animatum, numine salvo, 
 Processit natus sacne de virginis alvo, 
 Verus homo, verusque Deus, pins et miserator. 
 Vents Salvator, nostraque salutis amator, 
 Sponte sua moriens mortem moriendo per emit, 
 Et sic perpetua miseros ol mxyrte redemit, 
 Namque pia de morte resurgens, ut Leofortis, 
 Restituit vitam prostrato principe mortis. 
 
 OF THE RESTORING OF MAN BY CHRIST. 
 
 By the same. 
 
 Xjut Jove Omnipotent, all things, by bis word who created, 
 
 Grieving man to be fall'n, whose love was in him so innated^ 
 
 Sent from above his word, for man to prepare a returning. 
 
 Thence, where else had he lain, through all eternity burning. 
 
 So God's only begotten Son, came down to redeem us, 
 
 Yet did he still himself, his Father's glory beteem us, 
 
 A body form'd with a soul, to his divinity taking. 
 
 And to be born of a virgin, his humanity making, 
 
 Bom very God, very man* he a man God, merciful, holy. 
 
 Purchased our salvation, was our Saviour wholly. 
 
 For by his in'illing death, he Death's self wholly defeated. 
 
 And so us all from eternal death, by death rebegetted. 
 
 From death again rising, he Death's prince mightily maimed. 
 
 Whereby bis own from death, to eternal life he regained. 
 
Z)abt0on'$ l^octtcal i^lbap^oDg. 
 
 TO MY LORD THE PRINCE. 
 
 By the 
 
 Darling of these, of future times the glory. 
 Branch royal, sprung from many a regal stem. 
 On whose fiiir structure written is the story. 
 Of Nature's chiefest skill. World's choicest jem. 
 Wit's richest cabinet. Virtue's best array. 
 Centre where lines of all hearts' loves do meet: 
 Sweet ground, whereon the Muses love to play. 
 Ripe in wit, though green in years, of form most sweet, 
 Scotland's fair fruit, England's great hope, France's love, 
 Ireland's awe, Cambria's joy, Great Britain's fame, 
 Abridgement of all worth, the mighty Jove, 
 Long lengthen your good days, and still your name* 
 And when you shall have honour'd long this land. 
 Grant you a glorious saint in heaven to stand. 
 
 TO THE EXCELLENT LADY ELIZABETH, HER GRACE. 
 
 By the Mine. 
 
 X AIR Virtue's gem, set in most royal gold. 
 The worthiest owner of the fairest mansion. 
 Rich prize for which Nature and Fortune hold 
 With Muses' and Graces' great contention: 
 All which by agreement this partition make. 
 None of themselves worthy of all discerning. 
 
76 33ab{0on*0 poetical iXJ^ap^oDg. 
 
 Nature your beauty, Graces your virtues take. 
 Fortune shares your honour. Muses your learning. 
 Map of perfection, who deserve to be. 
 And are the worthiest mark the world can yield 
 For all great Christian princes' loves, they see 
 Such Virtue's wheat, growing in Beauty's field j 
 Long may you live, a holy and happy life, 
 A royal maid first, then a royal wife. 
 
 A DIALOGUE BETWEEN THE LOVER AND HIS HEART.«=«= 
 
 By T. Watson.* 
 
 Lover. 
 ^PEAK, gentle Heart, where is thy dwelling place? 
 H. With her whose birth the heavens themselves have blest. 
 L. Wh'dX dost thou there? ^"^ H. Sometimes behold her face. 
 And lodge sometimes within her chrystal breast. 
 
 L. She cold, thou hot, how can you then agree? 
 
 H. Not Nature now, but Love doth govern me. 
 
 '^^ This sonnet, or poem, is the third in number in the ** Heka- 
 tompathia : or Passionate Cejitury 0/ Love." Instead of a title is the 
 following introduction: **This passion is all framed in manner of a 
 dialogue, wherein the author talketh with his own heart, being now 
 through the commandment and force of love separated firom his body 
 miraculously, and against Nature to follow his mistress, in hope, by 
 long attendance upon her, to purchase in the end her love and favour, 
 and by that means to make himself all one with her own heart." 
 
 N. B. In the original the distinction of a dialogue is not shewn 
 by L. and H. as in Davison. 
 
 * Omitted 4th. ^^ Here, 4th. 
 
9abi$U)n'd poetical l^lbap^oDi; 77 
 
 L. With her wilt thou remain, and let me die? 
 H. If I return, we both shall die for grief. 
 L. If still thou stay, what shall I get thereby?** 
 H. I'll move her heart to purchase thy relief. 
 
 L. What if her heart be hard, and stop his ears? 
 
 //. I'll sigh aloud, and make him soft with tears. 
 
 L. If that prevail, wilt thou return from thence? 
 
 H. Not I alone, my heart shall come with me. 
 
 L. Then will you both live under my defence? 
 
 //. So long as life will let us both agree. 
 
 '' Why then despair? Go, pack thee hence away, 
 (K I live in hope to have a happy day. 
 
 A DIALOGUE BETWEEN A LOVER, DEATH, AND LOVE>* 
 
 Lover. 
 Come, gentle Death? D. Who calls? L. One that's op- 
 
 prest. 
 D. What is thy will? L. That thou abridge my who. 
 By cutting oflf my life? D. Cease thy request, 
 I cannot kill thee yet. L. Alas! why so? 
 
 •• What good shall grow thereby? fF'ataon'* Century of Love. 
 " L. 3d and 4th. t% H. 4th only. 
 
 ^* This forms the Iri. in Watson's scries, and the interro^tion 
 of dialogue is not given by initial letters any more than in the preced- 
 ing. It is thus prefaced : <' The first staff of his passion is much like 
 unto that invention of Seraphine, in his ^ Stramhottiy where he saith, 
 
'8 Snbi^on's poetical i^j^ap^otg. 
 
 D. Thou want'st thy heart. L. Who stole that same 
 
 avvay^ 
 D. Love whom thou serv'st, entreat him if thou may. 
 
 L. Come Cupid, come? • ' C. Who calleth me so oft? 
 
 L. Thy vassal true, whom thou should'st know by right. 
 
 C. What makes thy cry so faint? L. My voice is soft. 
 Quite broke, and spent with crying day and night.'^'^ 
 
 C. Why then, what's thy request? L. That thou restore 
 To me my heart, and steal the same no more. 
 
 And thou, O Death, when I possess my heart. 
 Dispatch me then at once. D.Alas! why so? ^^ 
 L. By promise thou art bound to end my smart. 
 
 D. But if thy heart return, then what's thy woe? 
 
 '^Morte: chevuoi? tebramo: JEccomi appresso ; 
 Prendemi: a che? che tnanchi el mio dolor e; 
 Non posso : ohime, nan puoi ? non per adesso ; 
 Perche ? pero che in te non regna il core, Sfc. 
 
 *' The second staff somewhat imitateth another of his * Stram- 
 botti ' in the same leaf; it beginneth thus, 
 
 " Amor, amor: chi e quel che chiama tanto ? 
 Un tuo servo fidel ; non ti conosco ; ^c. 
 
 *' The Author, in the last staff, retumeth to entreat Death a 
 new to end his days, as being half persuaded that Love would restore 
 unto him his heart again." 
 
 ' ' Come, come, come Love ? Century of Love. 
 
 ^ ^ And almost spent by wailing day and night. Century of Love. 
 
 ^' Alas! omitted in the Century of Love. 
 
Babidon'jt poetical lSll)ap)M)DD 79 
 
 "^ L. That brought from frost, it never will desire 
 To rest with me that am more hot than (ire. 
 
 THAT TIME HATH NO POWER TO END OR 
 DIMINISH HIS LOVE.*- 
 
 By the 
 
 JL IMS wasteth years, and months, and days, and hours; 
 Time doth consume fame, riches, wit, and strength: 
 Time kills the greenest herbs, and sweetest flowers: 
 Time wears out jrouth, and Beauty's pride at length: 
 
 •" D. 3dand4Ui. 
 
 " ■ This forms the Ixxrii. in Watson's Collection. It has received 
 fume improTcment by the pruning hand ol Davison; w« shall therefore 
 repeat it from the original. 
 
 " The chief CMilMto of this painon an taken oot of Scraphine, 
 Suuuet 139. 
 
 ** Col tampo pmstm gli ajiin, mi^W, e rkore. 
 Cot tempo U richetey imprrio, e regno^ 
 Col tewtpofawutj komoT,/ortettny e ingegnot 
 Col tempo gioventn con belt a more" Sfc. 
 
 But this Author inverteth the order, which Seraphine useth, 
 sometimes for his rhyme sake, but for the most part, upon some 
 other more allowable consideration. 
 
 Time wasteth years, and month's, and hour's : * 
 Time doth consume fame, honour, wit, and strength : 
 Time kills the greenest herbs and sweetest flowers : 
 Time wears out youth, and Beauty's looks at length : 
 
 * In this IiDe the placing commaa over the wonts montA'f, and kamr*; seems 
 intended to encrease them to dissyllables, or the measure is imperfect. J. H. 
 
80 Babt0on*0 ironical ISlj^apgotig. 
 
 Time maketh every tree to die and rot: 
 Time turneth oft our pleasure into pain: 
 Time causeth wars and wrongs to be forgot: 
 Time clears the sky that first hung full of rain: 
 Time brings to nought the mightiest princes' state: 
 Time brings a flood from new resolved snow: 
 Time calms the sea, where tempest roar'd late: 
 Time eats whatsoe'er the moon doth see below: 
 Yet shall no time upon my heart prevail. 
 Nor any time shall mjike my love to fail. 
 
 Time doth convey to ground both foe and friend. 
 And each thing else but Love, which hath no end. 
 
 Time maketh ev'ry tree to die and rot : 
 Time turneth oft our pleasures into pain : 
 Time causeth wars and wrongs to be forgot: 
 Time clears the sky, which first hung full of rain : 
 Time makes an end of all human desire. 
 But only this, which sets my heart on fire. 
 
 Time turneth into nought each princely state : 
 Time brings a flood from new resolved snow : 
 Time calms the sea, where was of late : 
 Time eats whate'er the moon can see below : 
 And yet no time prevails in my behove, 
 Nor any time can make me cease to love. 
 
iSabtdon'ji 4;)ortical ^i)<tp$oD9 81 
 
 LOVE'S HYPERBOLES. •• 
 By the Mme. 
 
 Xf Love had lost his shafts, and Jove down threw 
 His thunder-holts, or spent his forked tire,^' 
 They only might rccovereil be a-new 
 From out my heart, cross- wounded with Desire. 
 Or if debute by Mars were lost a space, 
 It might be fouml within the self-same place. 
 
 If Neptune's waves were all dried up and gone. 
 My weeping eyes so many tears distill. 
 That greater seas might grow by them alone: 
 Or if no flame were yet remaining still. 
 
 In \'ulcan's forge he might from out my breast. 
 Make choice of such as should befit him best. 
 
 ** I» Ixi. in the original, and thus introduced : ** The invention 
 of this paiiion if borrowed for the uoct part from Scraphine, (Sonnet 
 135,) which begianeth, 
 
 '* Set gran tormento i Jirr futmini accen, 
 
 Perduti kauftti, e li tuoi atrali Amorcy 
 In'ho tanti traffiUi im meggie el core, 
 Che *oi dame It potriano e**er rest; 
 Ete de git ampli Mori in terra a ten 
 Futae privo NeptunOf to apando fore 
 Lagrym: tattte, che com piu ti^uoref 
 Potrebhe nuovi Mori hauer ripresi;" Sfc. 
 
 99 Hit thaad'riiif- bolts, and spent his forked fire. JT'atton'a ed. 
 
82 i9abi0on*« poetical i^jbap^otig. 
 
 If ^ole were deprived of his charge, ^ i 
 Yet soon could I restore his winds again. 
 By sobbing sighs, which forth I blow at large 
 To move her mind, that pleasures in my pain. 
 What man but I could thus incline his will. 
 To live in love, that hath no end of ill. 
 
 AN INVECTIVE AGAINST LOVE." 
 By the same. 
 
 JLiovE is a sour delight, a sugared grief, 
 
 A living death, an ever-dying life, 
 
 A breath of Reason's law, a secret thief, 
 
 A sea of tears, an everlasting strife. 
 
 A bait for fools, a scourge of noble wits, 
 A deadly wound, a shot that^* ever hits. 
 
 Love is a blinded god, a wayward boy, * * 
 A labyrinth of doubts, an idle lust; 
 
 •>"» Depriv'd of all his charge. Watson s ed. 
 " Forms N® xviii. and Watson says, **This Sonnet is perfectly 
 pathetical, and consisteth in two principal points : whereof the first 
 containeth an accusation of love for his hurtful effects and usual 
 tjTanny: the second part is a sudden recantation or excuse of the 
 Author's evil words, by casting the same upon the neck of his be- 
 loved, as being the only cause of his late frenzy and blasphemous 
 rage, so lavishly poured forth in foul speeches." 
 •• Which. TVatson'sed. 
 " An angry boy, ib. 
 
Babijion'$» poetical i^tapi^oOs 83 
 
 A slave to"" Beauty's will, a witless toy, 
 A ravenous** bird, a tyrant most unjust. 
 A burning heat in frost, ** a flattering; foe, 
 A private hell, a very world of woe. 
 
 Yet mighty Love regard not what I say. 
 Who in a trance do lie, rest"* of my wit8,yy 
 But blame the light that leads me thus astray, 
 And makes ray tongue thus rave*» by frantic fits: 
 ^'et hurt l%r* not, lest I sustain the smart. 
 Which am content to lodge her in my heart. 
 
 PETRARCH'S SONNET TRANSLATED.* 
 Pace noH trottOf el nou ho da far guerra. 
 
 By the mid*. 
 
 X JOY not peace where yet no war is found, 
 I fear and hope, I bum yet freeze withall: 
 
 ■• Of, 3d and 4th.. .To, in H'ataou. " Ravening, ib. 
 
 ^^ \ burning heat, a cold, ^e. ib. >> Reft, Sd and 4th. 
 
 y y Which lie in trance, bereft of all my wits. Watton. 
 ** Blasphemy, ib. ■ Me, Sd and 4th. 
 
 * In the original N* xl. and thos prefaced, '*The sense contained 
 in this Sonnet wiU seem strange to such as never have acquainted 
 themselves with Love and his laws, because of the contrarieties men- 
 tioned therein. But to such as Love at any time hath had under his 
 banner, all and every part of it will appear to be a familiar truth. It 
 is almost word for word taken out of Petrarch, where he bcginneth. 
 
84 13abt^on'0 i^oetical Ji^apjiotJj). 
 
 I mount to heaven, yet lie still <^ on the ground, 
 
 I nothing hold, yet I compass all.*^ 
 
 I live her bond, which neither is my foe, 
 Nor friend, nor holds me fast, nor lets me go. 
 
 Love will not that I live, nor let ' me die. 
 Nor locks me fast, nor suffers me to 'scape: 
 I want both eyes and tongue, yet see and*^ cryj 
 I wish for death, yet after help I gape, 
 I hate myself, yet 8 love another wight. 
 And feed on grief in lieu of sweet delight. 
 
 At self same*' time I both lament and joy, 
 I still am pleas'd, and yet displeased still: 
 Love sometimes seems a God, sometimes a boy. 
 Sometimes I sink, sometimes I swim at will. 
 'Twixt death and life small difference I make. 
 All this, dear Dame, endure I for' thy sake. 
 
 *^ Pace non troiiOy e noii ho da far guerra; 
 
 E temo, e tpero, Sfc. Parte prima j Sonet 105. 
 
 " All except these verses, which this Author hath necessarily added 
 for perfecting the number, which he hath determined to use in every 
 one of his passions."* 
 
 «^ But, fF'atsoH. * I compass nought, and yet, 8fc. ib. 
 
 « Lets, ib. f I, 3d and 4th. f But, Watson. 
 
 ^ Same omitted, 4th. ' Befalls me for, ^c. fVatson. 
 
 * Watson's Sonnets or Poems uniformly extend to sixteen lines, and to the 
 above translation, taken "word for word" from Petrarch, he considered it "neces- 
 sary" to make an addition for completing that number. Query, did he not wish 
 to establish a new measure, to rival the Petrarchal Sonnet ? J. H. 
 
9ab($on'is )9orttral Kf)apf(oDD 85 
 
 HE PROVES HIMSELF TO ENDURE THE HELLISH TOR- 
 MENTS OF TANTALUS, IXION, TITIUS, SISYPHUS, 
 AND THE B£UD£S> 
 
 Is that I thirst for such a Goddess* grace, 
 
 As wants remorse like Tantalus I die, 
 
 My state is equal to Ixion's case, 
 
 \\liuse mani^led limbs are turn'd continually. * 
 In that my rolling toils'" can have no end. 
 Nor love, nor time, nor chance* will stand my friend. 
 
 In that my heart consuming never dies, 
 I feel with.Titius an equal pain. 
 Upon whose heart a vulture feeding lies: * 
 In that I rise through hope, and fall again 
 
 ^ The IzU. and the Author My*, "That the nilgar sort may 
 the better anderttand thu paMion, I will briefly touch those, whom 
 the Author nameth herein, beiof; all damned souls, (as the poets 
 fain) and destinate unto sundry punishments, Tantalus having 
 his lips still at the brink of the rirer Eridanns, yet dieth for thirst. 
 Ixion is tied unto a wheel, which tumeth incessantly. A vulture 
 feedeth ui>on the bowels of Titius, which grow up again ever as they 
 are devoured. Sisyphus rolleth a great round stone up a steep hill, 
 which being once at the top, presently falleth down amain. Belides 
 are fifty sisters, whose continual task is to fill a bottomless tub full of 
 water, by lading in their pitcher* full at once." 
 
 ' Whose rented limbs are turn'd eternally. fP'aUon. 
 
 •■ Tossing toils, ib. ■ Nor time, nor place, ib. 
 
 • On whom an ever-feeding vulture lies, t^. 
 
86 Babt^on'^ poetical l^l^ap^otig. 
 
 By fear; like Sisyphus I labour still. 
 
 To turnP a rolling stone against the*i hill. 
 
 In that I make my vows to her alone. 
 Whose ears are deaf, and will retain no sound; 
 With Belides my state is all but one, 
 WTiich fill a tub whose bottom is not sound. 
 Thus in my heart since love therein did dwell, 
 Are all the torments to be found of hell. ^ 
 
 LOVE'S DISCOMMODITIES.' 
 
 By the same. 
 
 VV HERE heat of love doth once possess the heart. 
 There cares oppress the mind with wonders ill: 
 Wit runs awry not fearing future smart. 
 And fond Desire doth over-master WiU. 
 
 The belly neither cares for meat nor drink. 
 
 Nor over-watched eyes desire to wink. 
 
 P Turl, Watson's ed. i A, 3d and 4th. 
 
 ' A wond'rous thing, that Love should make the wound. 
 Wherein a second hell may thus be found. JFatson's ed. 
 
 * In the original, N" Ixxix. with this Preface : *' The Author in 
 this passion seemeth upon mislike of his wearisome estate in love, to 
 enter into a deep discourse with himself touching the particular 
 miseries which befall him that loveth. And for his sense in this place, 
 he is very like unto himself, where in a theme deducted out of the 
 bowels of Antigone, in Sophocles, (which he lately translated into 
 Latin, and published in print,) he WTiteth very like manner as fol- 
 loweth : 411 
 
I9abcdon'0 i^oettcal l^^ap^oDg 87 
 
 Footsteps are false, and wavering to and fro; 
 The pleasing^ flower of Beauty fades away. 
 Reason retires, and Pleasure brings in woe. 
 And Wisdom yieldeth place to black Decay. 
 
 Counsel, and Fame, and Friendship are contemn'd. 
 And basliful Shame, and Gods themselves condemn'd. 
 
 Watchful Suspect is linked with Despair, 
 Inconstant Hope is often druwn'd in fears: 
 What Folly hurts. Fortune cannot repair, " 
 And Misery doth swim in seas of tears. 
 
 Long use of life is but a ling' ring foe. 
 
 And gentle Death is only end of woe. 
 
 **Afati quanJo CitpidiMis, 
 I'ena* itttu* edax occupat intiimmSf 
 Art€0 ingemmm labUttr im malas; 
 Jaetatmr tmritt nee Certria tuhit 
 Nee Baccki studirnm; pervigilet trakit 
 Noctee; eurm mmimmm fUicita atteritt Sfc. 
 
 ** And it may mppear by Uie tenor of this pawion, that the An- 
 tbor prcpareth himself to fall from Lore and all hit laws, m will well 
 appear by the sequel of his other passions that follow, and which are 
 all made upon this posie, Afy Love it paat." 
 
 * Brightsome, fT'ation '# ed. 
 " What Folly hnrts not Fortune can repair, ib. 
 
88 l^alji^oa'^ poetical lglj[)ap$oDg. 
 
 ALLEGORY OF HIS LOVE TO A SHIP.' 
 
 By the same. 
 
 JL HE soldier worn with wars delights in peace. 
 The pilgrim in his ease, when toils are past. 
 The ship to gain the port, when storms do cease. 
 And I rejoice discharg'd from Love at last. 
 
 Whom while I serv'd; peace, rest, and land I lost. 
 With wars, with toils, with storms, worn, tir'd, and tost. 
 
 Sweet Liberty now gives me leave to sing, 
 Wliat world it was, where Love the rule did bearj 
 How foolish Chance by lots nil'd ev'ry thing. 
 How Error was man-sail, ^ each wave a tear: 
 The master Love himself, deep sighs were wind. 
 Cares row'd with vows, the ship a pensive mind- ^ 
 
 False Hope they helm, oft turn'd the ship^ about. 
 And contant** Faith stood up for middle mast; 
 
 ^ This is N" Ixxxv. and we are told : ** The chiefest substance of 
 this sonnet is borrowed out of certain Latin verses of Strozza, a noble- 
 man of Italy, and one of the best poets in all his age : who, in de- 
 scribing metaphorically, to his friend Antonius, the true form of his 
 amorous estate, writeth thus : 
 
 " Unda hie sunt LachrimtE, venti sxispiria^ Remi 
 Vota, error velum, mens malesana Ratis : 
 Spes . . , . , Curte Comites, Cojistajitia Amoris 
 
 Est malusy Dolor est Anchor a, Nay,ita Amor,'" 6(c. 
 
 ** Man-sail, 3d. .main-sail, 4th. ^ Unmerry mind, Tfatson. 
 7 As, ib. « Boat, ib. *» Inconstant, ib. 
 
]9abt$on'0 poetical i^bapiioDs 89 
 
 Despair the cable wished**'* all with doubt. 
 Held griping Grief the piked anchor fast: 
 Beauty was all the rocks, but I at last. 
 Have gain'd the port, and now my love is past. ^ 
 
 EXECILVTION OF HIS PASSED LOVE.<"« 
 
 By thcMune. 
 
 -l- CURSE the time, wherein these lips of mine. 
 Did pray or praise the Dame that was unkind: 
 I curse my ink, my paper, and each line,** 
 My hand hath writ, in hope to move" her mind. 
 I curse her hollow heart, and flattering eyes. 
 Whose sly deceits did cause my mourning cries. 
 
 ** TwUtcd. irtUMon. 
 
 ** Am now twice free, and all my lore is past, ih. 
 
 '^ N* xcir. and " In this passion the Author bath but aug^mentcd 
 the inrention of Serapbine, where he writeth in this manner : 
 
 ** Biattemo quando mat U labbra aperti 
 
 Per dar name a cottriy che accio me induce, 
 Biattemo il tempo, et fuanti giomi ko poen 
 
 A teguitar n tenebroia luce : 
 Biattemo chart a, inchioitro, e vern. 
 
 El quanta Amor per me fama gliaduce; 
 Biattemo quando mai la vidi anchora. 
 
 El mete, I'anMO, et giomo, el punto, et I' kora" 
 
 ** I curse both leaf, and ink, and erery line. fP'atton. 
 " Please, 3d and 4tb. 
 
90 ... . Babi?ion'0 ^Socttcal U|)ap$otis. 
 
 I curse the sugared speech and Syren's song, 
 Wherewitl:'!^" she hath bewitcht mine ear: 
 I curse my foolish will that staid so long. 
 And took delight to 'bidets 'twixt Hope and Fear: 
 I curse the hour wherein I first began. 
 By loving looks to prove a witless man. 
 
 I curse those days which I have spent in vain. 
 In loving one ungrateful and unkind: 
 I curse the bow and shafts that bred my pain^ 
 And Love I curse, that archer nak'd and blind: 
 But on that hour that my fond love did ^ '* end. 
 Millions of blessings I will ever spend. ' ' 
 
 f K To 'bide, omitted 4th. ^^ Doth, 4th. 
 
 ** I corse those days which I hare spent in vain. 
 By serving such an one as reeks no right: 
 I curse each cauSe of all my secret pain. 
 Though Love to hear the same have small delight : 
 And since the heav'ns my freedom now restore. 
 Henceforth I'll live at ease, and love no more. 
 
 fatten. 
 
Z)abt«on'$ poetical Ubap^oDji 91 
 
 UPON HIS LADY'S SICKNESS OF THE \^^ ^^ VOX. 
 Bf Tkomms SpUn 
 
 C'RUEL and unpartial Sickness, 
 Sword of that arch-monarch Death, 
 That subdues all stren^h by weakness, 
 ^^'hoIn all kings pay tribute, breath. 
 
 Are not these thy steps I track. 
 In the pure snow of her face, 
 When thou did'st attempt to sack 
 Her life's fortress, and it raze? 
 
 Th' heavenly honey thou did'st suck, 
 From her rose cheeks might suffice^ 
 Why then did'st thou mar, and pluck 
 Those dear flowers of rarest price? 
 
 Mean'st thou thy Lord to present 
 With those rich spoils and adorn. 
 Leaving me them to lament. 
 And in ink's black tears thus mourn? 
 
 Xo: rU in my bosom wear them, 
 
 And close lock them in my heart: 
 
 Thence, nor time, nor death, shall bear them. 
 
 Till I from myself do part. 
 
 ^^ Small omitted 4tb. • Omitted 4tb. 
 
92 Babbon'^ ^ottical i^j^ap^otg. 
 
 ANACREON'S SECOND ODE. 
 
 By the same. * 
 
 ^ ATURE in her work doth give. 
 To each thing that by her do live, 
 A proper gift, whereby ^ * she may 
 Prevent in time her own decay. 
 The bull a horn, the horse a hoof. 
 The light-foot hare to run aloof: 
 The lion's strength who may resist. 
 The birds aloft fly where they list. 
 The fish swims safe in waters deep. 
 The silly worm at least can creep: 
 What is to come, men can foreceist. 
 And learn more wit by that is past: 
 The woman's gift, what might it be. 
 The same for which the ladies three, 
 PaUas, Juno, Venus strave. 
 When each desired it to have. 
 
 * Omitted 4th. " Where, 4th. 
 
IDabidon'$( i^oetical iXl^ap^ollD 93 
 
 AN ECLOGUE.. MADE LONG SINCE UPON THE DEATH OF 
 SIR PHIUP SYDNEY. 
 
 Thenot. 
 Jterin, areecl what new mischance betide. 
 Hath reft thee of thy wonted merriment? 
 Fair feeds thy flock this pleasant spring beside. 
 Nor Love, I ween, hath made thee discontent: 
 Slid Age and Love to """ meet in one, consent. 
 
 Perin. 
 
 Ah, Thenot! where the joy of heart doth fail. 
 What marvel there if mirth and music quail? 
 See how the flow'rets"" of the field do spring; 
 The purple rose, the lilly white as snow. 
 With smell and colour for an harvest king. 
 May serve to make us young again, I trow: 
 Yet all tliis pride is quickly laid fiill low; 
 Soon as the root is nipt with northern cold, 
 What smell, or beauty, can we then behold? 
 
 Thenot. 
 
 As good not hear^ as heard^ not understand. 
 My borrel brains through eld been all too dull, 
 Sike mister meaning nill by me be scan'd. 
 All as my face, so wrinkled is my skull: 
 Then say me, Perin, by thy hope of wool, 
 
 ■■ Do, 3d aud 4th. •"* Flowers, 3d and 4th. 
 
94 Babi^on*^ poetical l^Jbap^olJg. 
 
 And by thine ewes' blown bags, and bagpipes sound, 
 So not one aneling in thy flock be found. 
 
 Perin. 
 
 Ah, Thenot! by thine alderliefest lass. 
 Or whatsoever is more dear to thee; 
 No bagpipe name, let song and solace pass. 
 Death hath undone my flock, my pipe and me. 
 Dead is the sheeps' delight, and shepherd's glee. 
 Broke is my pipe, and I myself forlorn. 
 My sheep unfed, their fleeces rent and torn. 
 
 ThenoL 
 
 I mickle mus'd such uncouth change to see; 
 My flock refus'd to feed, yet hale they were: 
 The tender birds sat drooping on the tree. 
 The careless lambs went wand' ring here and there; 
 Myself unknown a part of grief did bear; 
 Ne wist I why, yet hea\y was my heart. 
 Untimely death was cause of all this smart: 
 Up, Perin, up, advance thy mournful lays, 
 Sound loud thy pipe, but sound in ^^ ° doleful wise. 
 
 Perin. 
 
 A\Tio else but Thenot can the Muses raise. 
 
 And teach them sing and dance in mournful guise? 
 
 ]My fingers stifif, my voice doth hoarsely rise. 
 
 '• It, 4th. 
 
Babi^on'ji poetical tilbap^oDj 95 
 
 Thenot. 
 Ah, where is Colin^ and his passing skill? 
 For hiin it tits our sorrow to fulfil. 
 
 Perin. 
 T'way sore extremes our Colin press so near, 
 ^Alas that such extremes should press him su) 
 The want of wealth, and loss of love so dear. 
 Scarce can he breathe from under heaps of woe: 
 He that bears heaven bears no such weight 1 trow. 
 
 Thenot. 
 Hath he such skill in making all above. 
 And hath no skill to get, or wealth, or love? 
 
 Perin. 
 Praise is the greatest prize that poets gain, 
 A simple gain that feefls them ne'er a whit. 
 The wanton lass for whom he bear such pain. 
 Like running water loVes to change and flit. 
 But if thee list to hear a sorry fit, 
 
 Which Cuddy could in doleful verse endite. 
 Blow thou thy pipe while I the same recite. 
 
 TTieno^ 
 'Gin when thou list; all-be my skill but small. 
 My forward mind shall make amends for all. 
 
 Perin, 
 
 Ye nymphs that bathe your bodies in this spring, 
 ,. *Your tender bodies white as driven snow: 
 
96 Babi^on'^ i^oftical IXJ^apSoDg. 
 
 Ye virgins chaste whicli in this grove do sing. 
 Which neither grief of love, nor death do know: 
 So may your streams run clear for ay. 
 So may your trees give shade alway. 
 
 Depart a space. 
 
 And give me place. 
 To wail with grief my restless woe alone. 
 
 For fear my cries 
 
 Constrain your eyes 
 To shed forth tears, and help lament my moan. 
 
 And thou, my Muse, that whilom wont to ease 
 Thy master's mind with lays of sweet delight^ 
 Now change those tunes, no joy my heart can please. 
 Gone is the day, come is the darksome nightj 
 Our sun close hid in clouds doth liej 
 We live indeed, but living die: 
 
 No light we see. 
 
 Yet wander we. 
 We wander far and near without a guide: 
 
 And all astray, 
 
 W^e loose our way. 
 For in this world n'is such a sun beside. 
 
 Ye shepherds' boys that lead your flocks a- field. 
 The whilst your sheep feed safely round about. 
 Break me your pipes that pleasant sound did yield. 
 Sing now no more the songs of '' Colin Clout.'' 
 
 Lament the end of all our joy. 
 
 Lament the source of all annoy. 
 
Babtdon'0 poetical )^|bap$oDs 97 
 
 Sydney p p is dead. 
 
 That wont to lead 
 Oiir flocks and us in mirth and shepherds' glee. 
 
 Well could he sing. 
 
 Well dance and springj 
 Of all the shepherds was none such as he. 
 
 How often hath his skill in pleasant song, 
 Drawn all the water>nymphs from out their bowers? 
 How have they lain the tender grass along. 
 And made him garlands gay of smelling flowers. 
 Phoebus himself that conquer'd Pan, 
 Striving with Willy, nothing wan. 
 
 Nethinks^ii I see 
 
 The time when he 
 Pluckt from his golden locks the laurel crown. 
 
 And so to raise. 
 
 Our Willy's praise, 
 Bedeckt his head and softly set him down. 
 
 The learned Muses flock to hear his skill. 
 And quite forgot their water, wood, and mount; 
 They thought his songs were done too quickly, still 
 Of none but Willy's pipe they made account. 
 He sung, they seem'd in joy to flow: 
 He ceas'd; they seem'd to weep for woe; 
 The rural rout. 
 All round about, 
 
 Pr Sic, 3d. . WiUy, 4th. ^i Methinks, 3d and 4th. 
 
98 33abi$on'0 i^oetical iij^ap^otJg. 
 
 Like bees came swarming thick, to hear him sing) 
 
 Ne could they think 
 
 On meat or drink, 
 AMiile Willy's music in their ears did ring. 
 
 But now, alas! such pleasant mirth is past, 
 Apollo weeps, the Muses rend their hair. 
 No joy on earth that any time can last: 
 See where his breathless corpse lies on the bier! 
 That self- same hand, that reft his life. 
 Hath turned shepherds' peace to strife. 
 
 Our joy is fled 
 
 Our life is dead. 
 Our hope, our help, our glory, all is gone; 
 
 Our poets' praise. 
 
 Our happy days. 
 And nothing left but grief, to think thereon. 
 
 What Thames, what Severn, or what western seas. 
 Shall give me floods of trickling tears to shed? 
 What comfort can my restless grief appease? 
 O that mine eyes were fountains in my head! 
 Ah, Colin! I lament thy case: 
 For thee remains no hope of grace. 
 
 The best relief 
 
 Of poets' grief 
 Is dead and wrapt full cold in filthy clayj 
 
 And nought remains 
 
 To ease our pains. 
 But hope of death to rid us hence away. 
 
Babition'^ poetical Ubap^oDg 99 
 
 Phillis, thine is the greatest grief above the rest. 
 Where bin thy sweetest Posies featly (light. 
 Thy garlands with a truc-love's-knot addrest. 
 And all that erst thou Willy didst behight? 
 Thy labour all is lo«t in vain. 
 The grief shall ay remain. 
 
 The sun ' ' bright. 
 That falls to-night, 
 To-morrow from the cast again shall rise. 
 But we decay. 
 And waste away! 
 Without return, alas! thy" Wdly dies! 
 
 See how the drooping flocks refuse to feed. 
 The rivers stream with tears above the banks. 
 The trees do shed their leaves, to wail agreed, 
 The beasts unfed, go mourning all in ranks; 
 The sun denies the earth his light. 
 The Spring is kill'd with Winter's might: 
 The flowers spill. 
 The birds are still. 
 No voice of joy is heard in any place: 
 The meadows green 
 A change have seen, 
 And Flora hides her pale disfigur'd face. 
 
 Watch now, ye shepherds* boys, with waking eye, 
 And loose your time of sleep, to learn to sing. 
 
 " So, 4th. •• Our, 4th. 
 
100 iBabiiSon'^ i^oettcal l^l^ap^olJg. 
 
 Unhappy skill, what good is got thereby. 
 But painted praise that can no profit bring? 
 If skill could move the Sisters three. 
 Our Willy still alive should be. 
 
 The wolf so wood 
 
 Amazed stood 
 At sound of Willy's pipe, and left his prey: 
 
 Both pipe and skill 
 
 The Sisters spillj 
 So worse than any wicked wolf are they. 
 
 O flatt'ring hope of mortal mens' delight. 
 So fair in outward show, so foul within! 
 The deepest streams do flow full calm to sight. 
 The rav'ning wolves do jet in wethers' skin; 
 We deem'd our Willy aye should live. 
 So sweet a sound his pipe could give: 
 
 But cruel Death 
 
 Hath stopt his breath: 
 Dumb lies his pipe that wont so sweet to sound: 
 
 Our flocks lament. 
 
 His life is spent. 
 And careless wander all the woods around. 
 
 Come now,** ye shepherds' daughters, come no more 
 To hear the songs that Cuddy wont to sing: 
 Hoarse is my Muse, my throat with crying sore. 
 These woods with echo of my grief do ring. 
 
 Now, omitted 4th. 
 
9abbon'j( i^oetical £l|)ap$soDs 1^1 
 
 Your Willys life was Cuddy's joy. 
 Your Willy's death hath killd the Boy: 
 Broke lies my pipe. 
 Till reeds be ripe 
 To make a new one, but a worse I fear: 
 Save year by year. 
 To wail my dear. 
 All pipe and song I utterly forswear. 
 
 Thenot. 
 Alack and well-a-day may shepherds cry. 
 Our Willy dead, our Colin kill'd with care: 
 Who shall not loathe to live, and long to die? 
 And will not grief our little Cuddy spare. 
 But must he too of sorrow have a share? 
 
 Ay how his rueful verse hath prick'd my heart! 
 
 How feelingly hath he express'd my"" smart! 
 
 Perm. 
 
 Ah Thenot, had'st thou seen his sorry look. 
 His wringed hands, his eyes to heaven upkest. 
 His tears, that stream'd like water in the brook. 
 His sighs, that made his rhimes seem rudely drest. 
 To tears thou would'st have melted with the rest. 
 But hie we homeward, night approacheth near. 
 And rainy clouds in southern skies appear. 
 
 •• Our, 4th. 
 
102 23abi!5on'0 poetical Ul^ap^otg. 
 
 A REPORTING SONNET. »' 
 
 XAer face, her tongue, her wit, so fair, so sweet, so sharp. 
 First bent, then drew, now hit, mine eye, mine ear, my 
 
 heart: 
 Mine eye, mine ear, my heart, to like, to learn, to love. 
 Her face, her tongue, her wit, doth lead, doth teach, doth 
 
 move; 
 Her face, her tongue, her A\dt, with beams, with sound, 
 
 with art. 
 Doth blind, doth charm, doth rule, mine eye, mine ear, 
 
 my heart. 
 
 Mine eye, mine ear, my heart, with life, with hope, with 
 
 skill, 
 Her face, her tongue, her wit, doth feed, doth feast, doth fill. 
 O face, O tongue, O wit, with frowns, with checks, with 
 
 smart. 
 Wring not, vex not, wound not, mine eye, mine ear, my 
 
 heart: 
 This eye, this ear, this heart, shall joy, shall bind, shall 
 
 swear} 
 Your face, your tongue, your wit, to serve, to love, to fear. 
 
 In the g^race of wit, of tongue, and face. 3d. 
 
Sabidon'^ ^oettral i^bap$oD|) 103 
 
 SONNET.** 
 
 Only, sweet Love, afTord me but thy heart. 
 Then close thine eyes within their ivory covers. 
 That they to me no beam of light impart. 
 Although they shine on all thy other lovers. 
 
 As for thy lip of ruby, check of rose, 
 Though I have kbt them oft with sweet content, 
 I am content that sweet content to lose. 
 If thy sweet Will will bar me, I assent. 
 
 Let me not touch thy hand, but through thy glove, 
 Nor let it be the pledge of kindness more: 
 Keep all thy beauties to thyself, sweet Love! 
 I ask not such bold favours as before. 
 
 I beg but this, afford me but thy heart; 
 
 For then, I know, thou wilt the rest impart. 
 
 SONNET. 
 
 -15 EST pleas'd she is, when Love is most exprest, 
 And sometime says, tliat Love should be rei^uited^ 
 Yet is she griev'd my love should now be righted, 
 Wlien that my faith hath prov'd what I protest. 
 
 ^m 1 belov'd whose heart is thus opprest? 
 Or dear to her, and not in her delighted? 
 I live to see the sun, yet still benighted. 
 By her Despair is blam'd, and Hope supprest. 
 
 '* For her heart, .only Sd and 4th. 
 
104 iSabt^on'iS )^octtcal iij^ap^ots. 
 
 She still denies, yet still her heart consenteth. 
 She grants me all, but that which 1 desire; 
 She fuel sends, but bids me leave the fire. 
 She lets me die, and yet my death lamenteth. 
 
 foolish Love, by reason of thy blindness, 
 
 1 die for want of Love, yet kill'd with kindness! 
 
 SONNET. 
 
 When a weak child is sick and out of quiet. 
 And for his tenderness can not sustain 
 Physic of equal strength, unto his pain 
 Physicians to the nurse prescribe a diet. 
 
 O I am sick, and in my sickness weak. 
 
 And through my weakness dead; if I but take 
 The pleasantest receipt tljiat Art can make. 
 Or if I hear but my physician speak. 
 
 But, ah! fair God of Physic, it may bej 
 But physic to my nurse would me recover: 
 She whom I love with beauty nurseth me. 
 But with a bitter mixture kills her lover. 
 
 Yet I assure myself, I should not die. 
 
 If she were purged of her cruelty. 
 
IBahifion'i i^oettcal i^|)apftotis 105 
 
 SONNET. 
 
 Were I as base as is the lowly plain. 
 And you, my Love, as high as heav'n above. 
 Yet should the thoughts of me your humble swain. 
 Ascend to heaven, in honour of my Love. 
 Were I as high as heaven above the plain. 
 And you, my Love, as humble and as low 
 As are the deepest bottoms of the main, 
 WTieresoe'er you were, with you my love should go. 
 Were you the earth, dear Love, and I the skies. 
 My love should shine on you like to the sun^ 
 And look upon you with ten thousand eyes. 
 Till heav'n wax'd blind, and till the world were done. 
 Wheresoe'er I am, below, or else above you, 
 Wheresoe'er you are, my heart shall truly love you. 
 
 SONNET. 
 
 By the 
 
 J. HE Poets fain that when the world began. 
 Both sexes in one body did remain; 
 Till Jove (offended with this double man) 
 Caus'd Vulcan to divide him into twain. 
 
 • Omitted 4th. 
 
106 Babi^on'cJ i^octical IJ^jbap^oUg. 
 
 In this division he the heart did sever. 
 But cunningly he did indent the heart. 
 That if there were a reuniting ever. 
 Each part might know which was his counterpart. 
 
 See then, dear Love, th' indenture of my heart. 
 And read the cov'nants writ with holy fire: 
 See if your heart be not the counterpart 
 Of my true heart's indented chaste desire. 
 
 And if it be, so may it ever be. 
 
 Two hearts in one, 'twixt you my Love and me. 
 
 A HYMN IN PRAISE OF NEPTUNE. «« 
 
 By Thomas Campion. 
 
 Of Neptune's Empire let us sing. 
 At whose command the waves obeyj 
 To whom the rivers tribute pay, 
 Down the high mountains sliding. 
 To whom the scaly nation yields 
 Homage for the crystal fields. 
 Wherein they dwell. 
 And every sea-god pays a gem 
 Yearly out of his wat'ry cell. 
 To deck great Neptune's diadem. 
 
 ** This Hymn was sung by Amphytrite, Thamesis, and other Sea- 
 Nymphs, in Gray's-Inn Masque, at the Court, 1694. 
 
Babi$on'0 poetical £l{)ap^oDs 107 
 
 The Trytons dancing in a ring. 
 
 Before his palace gates do make 
 
 The water with their echoes quake. 
 
 Like the gre«it thunder sounding: 
 
 The Sea-Nymphs chaunt their accents shrill. 
 
 And the Syrens taught to kill 
 
 With their sweet voice. 
 Make ev'ry echoing rock reply. 
 Unto their gentle murmuring noise. 
 The praise of Neptune's Empery. 
 
 OF HIS MISTRESS' FACE. 
 
 By tkic Mine. 
 
 A.ND would you see my Mistress' lace? 
 It is a flow'ry garden place: 
 Where knots of beauty have such grace, 
 That all is work and no where space. 
 
 It is a sweet delicious morn, 
 Where day is bree<iing, never born. 
 It is a meiidow yet unshorn. 
 Which thousand flowers do adorn. 
 
 It is the heavens bright reflex, 
 
 Weak to dazzle and to vex: 
 
 It is th' Idsa of her sex. 
 
 Envy of whom doth world perplex. 
 
108 Sabi^on'^ ^Scettcal i^Jbap^oDg. 
 
 It is a face of death that smiles. 
 Pleasing, though it kills the whiles: 
 Where Death and Love in pretty wiles 
 Each other mutually beguiles. 
 
 It is fair Beauty's freshest youth. 
 
 It is the feign'd Elizium's truth; 
 
 The spring that winter'd hearts renew'th; 
 
 And this is that my soul pursu'th. 
 
 UPON HER PALENESS. 
 
 By the same. 
 
 -13 LAME not my cheeks, though pale with love they be^ 
 
 The kindly heat into my heart is flown: 
 
 To cherish it that is dismay' d by thee. 
 
 Who art so cruel and unstedfast grown. 
 For Nature call'd for by distressed hearts. 
 Neglects, and quite forsakes the outward parts. 
 
 But they whose cheeks with careless blood are stain'd. 
 Nurse not one spark of Love within their hearts. 
 And when they woo, they speak with passion feign'd; 
 For their fat love lies in their outward parts. 
 
 But in their breasts, where Love his court should hold, 
 Poor Cupid sits, and blows his nails for cold. 
 
9abl$(on'$ ^ottical Slf^ap^oDg 109 
 
 OF CORINNA'S SINGING. 
 
 By the same. 
 
 When to her lute Corinna sings. 
 
 Her voice revives the leaden strings. 
 
 And doth in highest notes appear, 
 
 As any challeng'd Echo clear. 
 
 But when she doth of mourning speak, 
 
 Ev'n with her sighs the strings do break. 
 
 And as her lute doth live or die. 
 
 Led by her passions, so must I: 
 
 For when of pleasure she doth sing. 
 
 My thoughts enjoy a sudden spring. 
 
 But if she do of sorrow speak, 
 
 Ev'n from my heart the strings do break. 
 
 ANACREON'S THIRD ODE. 
 
 From Robert Grtene'i " Orpkariom.** 
 
 I-/UPID abroad, was lated in the nightj 
 His wings were wet, with ranging in the rain: 
 Harbour he sought} to me he took his flight; 
 To dry his plumes, I heard the Boy complain. 
 I op'd the door, and granted his desirej 
 I rose myself, and made the Wag a fire. 
 
110 i3abi0on*0 poetical Mj^ap^otig. 
 
 Prying more narrow by the fire's flame, 
 I spy'd his quiver hanging at his back: 
 Doubting the Boy might my misfortune frame, 
 I would have gone for fear of further wrack. 
 But what I fear'd did me poor wretch betide. 
 For forth he drew an arrow from his side. 
 
 He pierc'd the quick, and I began to startj 
 A pleasing wound, but that it was too high: 
 His shaft procur'd a sharp, yet sug'red smartj 
 Away he flew, for now his wings were dry. 
 But left the arrow sticking in my breast. 
 That sore I grieve, 1 welcom'd such a guest. 
 
 MADRIGAL 
 IN PRAISE OF TWO 
 
 ,rr lMp^, 
 
 X AusTiNA hath the fairest face. 
 And PhiUida the better grace. 
 Both have mine eye enriched: 
 This sings full sweetly with her voice. 
 Her fingers make so sweet a noise. 
 
 Both have mine ear bewitched. 
 Ah me! sith Fates have so provided. 
 My heart, alas! must be divided. 
 
 yy Fourth Edition. 
 
]3abt{(on'$ poetical i&t)apj&oD5 Ill 
 
 TO HIS LADY'S GARDEN, 
 BEING ABSENT FAR FROM HER. 
 
 Ctarden more than Eden blesseil. 
 Art thou thus to have thy bowers, 
 Free'd from winter and still dressed. 
 With her face's heav'n-set flowers? 
 
 Happy too are those thy alleys. 
 Where her fair feet deign to tread; 
 Which departing Earth's low vallies. 
 Shall *■ the milky way be led. 
 
 Thy trees whose arms her embraced, 
 .\nd whose fruit her lips do kiss. 
 In whose virtuous mind well placed 
 The rare Tree of Knowledge is. 
 
 Happy are, so thy birds be. 
 Whom she taught to sing by Art, 
 Who in heavenly harmony 
 With the angels bears a part. 
 
 Happy, blest, and fortunate. 
 Bowers, alleys, trees, and birds; 
 But my most unhappy state 
 Far surmounts all reach of words. 
 
 •» To, 3d and 4th. 
 
112 33abi0on'^ i^octical J^i^ap^otis. 
 
 MADRIGAL. 
 
 JyjLY Love in her attire doth shew her wit. 
 It doth so well become her: 
 
 For every season she hath dressings fit. 
 For winter, spring, and summer. 
 No beauty she doth miss. 
 When all her robes are on: 
 But Beauty's self she is. 
 When all her robes are gone. 
 
 ODE. 
 
 That Time and absence provesy 
 Rather helps than hurts to loves.*' 
 
 Absence, hear thou my protestationj 
 
 Against thy strength. 
 
 Distance, and length. 
 Do what you can for alteration j 
 For hearts of truest mettle 
 Absence doth join, and Time doth settle. 
 
 Who loves a mistress of such quality. 
 
 He soon hath found 
 
 Affection's'* ground 
 Beyond time, place, and all mortality. 
 
 • Third and fourth. ** Affection, 3d. 
 
Babt$(on'd poetical il|)ap$oDs 113 
 
 To hearts that cannot vary. 
 Absence is present. Time doth tarry 
 
 ODE.. OF CYNTHIA.* 
 
 1 HE ancient readers of Heaven's Book, 
 Which with curious eye did look 
 
 Into Nature's storyj 
 All things under Cynthia took 
 
 To be transitory. 
 
 This the learned only knew. 
 But now all men find it true, 
 
 Cynthia is descended, 
 \Vith bright beams, and heavenly hue. 
 
 And lesser stars attended. 
 
 Lands and seas she rules below, 
 
 WTiere things change, and ebb, and flow. 
 
 Spring, wax old, and perish: 
 Only Time which all doth mow. 
 
 Her alone doth cherish. 
 
 Time's young hours attend her stillj 
 And her eyes and cheeks do fiU 
 
 ^ This song was sang before her sacred Majesty at a shew on hone- 
 back, wherewith the Right Honourable the Earl of Cumberland pre- 
 sented her Highness on May-day last. 
 
114 iSabt^on'^ poetical IJlj^ajp^otig. 
 
 With fresh youth and beauty: 
 All her lovers old do growj 
 But their hearts they do not so. 
 
 In their love and duty. 
 
 OF LOVE GIFT.*' 
 
 VVho gives a gift to bind a friend thereby. 
 Doth set or put his gift to usurj j 
 And he that gives a gift that is not free. 
 Give* where he list, so that he give not me. 
 For bought and sold is friendship strange^ 
 Who lives by selling, lives by change. 
 And he, that loves to change his friend. 
 Will turn to nothing in the end. 
 
 A POEM. 
 
 An vain I live, sith Sorrow lives in mej 
 In vain lives Sorrow, since by her I livej 
 Life works in vain, where Death will master be. 
 Death strives in vain where Life doth virtue give. 
 Thus each of us would work another's woe. 
 And hurts himself in vain, and helps his foe. 
 
 ^ Third and fourth. « Gives, 4th 
 
Babidon'$( i^oettcal ]^^a),$oD|) 115 
 
 A PO£M. 
 
 JLf wrong by force had justice put to flight. 
 Vet were there hope she might return again: 
 If lawless war had shut her up from sight. 
 Yet lawful peace might soon restore her train. 
 But now, alas! what hope of hope is left. 
 When wrongful death hath her of life bereft? 
 
 The sun, that often falls, doth often rise: 
 The moon that waineth, waxeth full with light: 
 But he, that Death in chains of darkness ties. 
 Can never break the bands of lasting night. 
 What then remains but tears of loss to wail. 
 In which all hope of mortal help doth fail? 
 
 Who then shall weep? nay, who shall tears refrain^ 
 
 If common harms must move the minds of all? 
 
 Too few are found, that wrongful hearts restrain; 
 
 And of too few, too many Death doth call. 
 These common harms I wail among the rest. 
 But private loss denies to be exprest. 
 
 A POEM IN THE NATURE OF AN EPITAPH 
 OF A FRIEND.' 
 
 Xf stepdame Nature have^ been scant. 
 In dealing Beauty's gift to me: 
 
 ' Third and fourth only. f Hath, 4th. 
 
116 Babi^ou'^ poetical jaf)apgotig. 
 
 My wit shall help supply that want. 
 And skill in stead of shape shall be. 
 My stature, I confess, is small. 
 And therefore nill I boast of war: 
 My name shall fill the heavens and all; 
 This skin shall serve to hide that scar. 
 My head to bear the helm unfit. 
 My hands unapt to murder men; 
 But little heads oft hold much wit. 
 And feeble hands can ^ide a pen. 
 
 LOVE'S CONTENTMENT. »" 
 
 J-^EATH is my doom, awarded by Disdain; 
 A lingering death that will not let me die: 
 This length of life is lengthning of my pain. 
 And length of pain gets strength of pain thereby: 
 And strength of pain makes pain of longer last. 
 Ah who hath ty'd my life to pain so fast? 
 
 And yet I seem as if I had but feign. 
 Or make my grief much greater than I need, 
 When-as the care to hide my burning pain. 
 With secret sighs constrains my heart to bleed: 
 Yet well I wot, be kill'd' I shall not be. 
 Until by death a proof hereof^ you see. 
 
 >• Third and fourth. * Believ'd, 4th. 
 
 ^ Thereof, 3d and 4th. 
 
i3abi$on'$ ^poetical Ubap^oDg 117 
 
 But if this lodge, the witness of my woe. 
 Whose stony walls entert'cl"™ my plaints contain, 
 Had sense to feel and tongue my pain to show. 
 Which he enclos'd, 1 utter all in vain. 
 
 You soon should know that most 1 make my moan. 
 
 Alone, if he that loves can be alone. 
 
 Why should I seek to make my shame be known, 
 
 That foolish love is causer of my pain? 
 
 Forgive me love, the speech is not mine own, 
 
 But so they speak that thee and thine disdain. 
 And I myself confess my skill too small 
 To plead for love, and clear myself withal. 
 
 What reason can my simple wit devise. 
 
 Why bootless grief should thus my mind afflict? 
 
 I love the thoughts, that Love itself despise; 
 
 I seek for that, I never look to find. 
 
 Oft have I heard, or " which I think I die. 
 Thine angry tongue all kinds of love defy. 
 
 Yet is my life upon thy promise stay'd^ 
 By which thou hast assur'd me of thy love; 
 And though thereby my heat be not allay'd. 
 No stay of flight, where gain is still above. 
 But since thy heart can yield to Love no more, 
 I rest content, although I die therefore. 
 
 Qui* deu4 oppomit nostrit sua numina tfotuf 
 
 Unheard, 4th. •» On, 4th. 
 
118 19abi0Ott'j5 poetical J^j^ap^oDg. 
 
 A REPENTANT POEM.* 
 
 JL HOUGH late my heart, yet turn at last, 
 And shape thy course another way; 
 'Tis better lose thy labour past. 
 Than follow on to sure decay. 
 
 What though thou long have stray'd awry? 
 
 In hope of grace for mercy cry. 
 
 Though weight of sin do press thee down. 
 And keep thee grov'ling on the groundj 
 Though black Despair, with angry frown. 
 Thy wit and judgment quite confound^ 
 Though time and wit have been mispent. 
 Yet Grace is left, if thou repent. 
 
 Weep then my heart, weep still and still,' 
 Nay, melt to floods of flowing tearsj 
 Send out such shrieks as heaven may fill. 
 And pierce thine angry judge's ears: 
 And let thy soul, that harbours sin. 
 Bleed streams of blood, to drown it in. 
 
 Then shall thine angry judge's face 
 To cheerful looks itself applyj 
 Then shall thy soul be fill'd with grace. 
 And fear of death constrain'd to fly. 
 
 • Third and fourth. 
 
IDabidon'd poetical ^Ibap^iotg 119 
 
 Even so, my God ! Oh when? how long? 
 I would, but Sin is too, too strong. 
 
 I strive to risej Sin keeps me down, 
 I fly from Sinj Sin follows me. 
 My will doth reach at Glory's crown; 
 Weak is my strength, it will not be. 
 
 See how my fcunting soul doth pant; 
 
 O let thy strength supply my want! 
 
ALPHABETICAL INDEX OF FIRST LINES. 
 
 AjjSENCE, hear thou my protestation; ll« 
 A little herd-grooni> for he was no bctt', b7 
 And would you see my M istress' face ? 107 
 Best pleas'd she is, when Love is most ezprest, 
 
 103 
 BUme not my checka, though pale with Lore 
 
 they be, 108 
 But Jore Omnipotent, all thing*, by hi« word 
 
 who created, 7* 
 Cbmt, thou hast o'ercome to thy great fame, W 
 Come, gentle Death J D. Who calls > L. One 
 
 that's opprest, 77 
 Cruel and unpartial sickneM. 91 
 Cupid abroad, was lated in the night, I09 
 Cynthia, Queen of tea* and land*, M 
 Darling of tteM^ ot tatwv Ums the glory. 7» 
 Death ia my doon, awarded by DUdain ; 1 16 
 Diver* rare gems in thee, O Union shine ; 65 
 Fair Virtue'* gem. set in most royal gold. 7» 
 Faustina hath the fairer Ikce, 1 10 
 Garden more th^n Eden blessed, 1 1 1 
 Great King, since first tbia Itle by Jove's own 
 
 hand, 6« 
 Her face, her tongue, her wH, to hit, ao aweet, 
 
 so sharp, 109 
 He's rich enough, whose eye* behold thee, &9 
 Hold, hold thy hand, vile son of viler mother, »l 
 I curse the time, wherein these lips of mine, 99 
 If you would know the love which 1 you bear, 39 
 If Love had lost hia shafta, and Jove down 
 
 threw, 81 
 If strpdaroe Nature have been scant, 1 15 
 If wrong by force had justice put to flight, 115 
 I joy not peace, where yet no war is found, 83 
 In that I thirst for such a Goddess' grace. Bi 
 In vain I live, sith Sorrow lives in me; 114 
 I sing divine Astrea's praise, 41 
 It chanc'd of late a Shepherd's swain, 17 
 Join, Mates, in mirth to me, 43 
 Long have I liv'd in Court, yet learn'd not all 
 
 this while, 3 
 Look how the pale Queen of the silent night, 63 
 Love is a sour delight, a sugared grief. Si 
 M ine eye with all the deadly sins is fraught, 49 
 My famous country values gold far less, 52 
 My love is sail'd, against dislike to fight, 30 
 My love in her attire doth shew her wit, 112 
 My cruel Dear having captiv'd my heart, 33 
 
 Nature in her work doth give, gs 
 
 No common womb was fit me forth to bring, 59 
 
 O fair, yet murdering eyes, 53 
 
 O faithless world, and thy most faithless part, 61 
 
 Of Neptune's Empire let us sing, 106 
 
 Oft did I hear, our Eyes the passage were, 97 
 
 Once did my Philomel reflect on me, 30 
 
 Only, sweet Love, afford me but thy heart, 103 
 
 O why did Fame my heart to Love betray, 28 
 
 Pale Death himself did love my Philomel, 99 
 
 Perin areed, what new mischance betide, 93 
 
 Phobua of all the Gods 1 wish to be, 56 
 
 Praise, Pleasure, Profit, is that threefold band, 25 
 
 Sickness intending my Love to betray, 28 
 
 Speak, gentle Heart, where is thy dwelling 
 
 place) 76 
 Sure, Dear, I love yoa not) for he that loveth, 56 
 Time wastcth ye«», ^itf months, and days, and 
 
 hours, 79 * 
 
 The ancient rei.«<i» v>f Heaven's Book, ll3 
 The Poeu fain that when the world began, 105 
 The poor man belov'd for virtue approv'd, right 
 
 MesaedUlke.79 
 The soldier worn with wars delights in peace, 88 
 The Sun doth make the marigold to flourish, 64 
 The virtuous man is free, though bound in 
 
 chains, 6t 
 This sword is mine, or will Laertes' son, 51 
 Though late my heart, yet turn at last, iig 
 Though you be not content, 53 
 Unhappy verse! the witness of my -unhappy 
 
 sUte,69 
 Walking in bright Phoebus' blaze, 46 
 Were I as base as is the lowly plain, 105 
 When a weak child is sick, and out of quiet, 104 
 When trait'rous Photine Cesar did present, 54 
 When as the sun eclipsed is, they say, 32 
 When to her lute Corinna sings, 109 
 When time nor place would let me often view, 3 1 
 Where heat of love doth once possess the heart 86 
 While thou didst love me, and that neck of 
 
 thine, 24 
 While love in you did live, I only liv'd in you, 55 
 Who gives a gift to bind a friend thereby, 1I4 
 Widow, well met; whither go you to-day i 6 
 Ye ghastly groves, that hear my woeful cries, 19 
 Ye sister Muses, do not ye repine, 50 
 Ye woeful Sirs.whose causeless hate hath bred, 50 
 
 lEnD of rte ipirjit 'Volume. 
 
 Printed by Johnson and Warwick, 
 At the private Press of LEE PRIORY, Kent. 
 

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