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Added to her noble birth,

More than she could own from earth.
Summers three times eight save one
She had told; alas! too soon,
After so short time of breath,

To house with darkness, and with death.
Yet had the number of her days
Been as complete as was her praise,
Nature and Fate had had no strife
In giving limit to her life.

Her high birth, and her graces sweet,
Quickly found a lover meet;
The virgin quire for her request
The god that sits at marriage feast;
He at their invoking came,

But with a scarce well-lighted flame;
And in his garland, as he stood,
Ye might discern a cypress bud.
Once had the early matrons run
To greet her of a lovely son,
And now with second hope she goes,
And calls Lucina to her throes;
But, whether by mischance or blame,
Atropos for Lucina came;
And with remorseless cruelty
Spoil'd at one both fruit and tree :
The hapless babe, before his birth,
Had burial, yet not laid in earth;
And the languish'd mother's womb
Was not long a living tomb.

So have I seen some tender slip,
Sav'd with care from Winter's nip,
The pride of her carnation train,
Pluck'd up by some unheedy swain,
Who only thought to crop the flower
New shot up from vernal shower;
But the fair blossom hangs the head
Side-ways, as on a dying bed,
And those pearls of dew, she wears,
Prove to be presaging tears,
Which the sad Morn had let fall
On her hastening funeral.
Gentle lady, may thy grave
Peace and quiet ever have ;
After this thy travel sore
Sweet rest seize thee evermore,
That, to give the world increase,
Shorten'd hast thy own life's lease.
Here, beside the sorrowing
That thy noble house doth bring,
Here be tears of perfect moan
Wept for thee in Helicon ;

And some flowers, and some bays,
For thy herse, to strew the ways,
Sent thee from the banks of Came,
Devoted to thy virtuous name;

Whilst thou, bright saint, high sitst in glory,

Next her, much like to thee in story,
That fair Syrian shepherdess,

Who, after years of barrenness,
The highly favour'd Joseph bore
To him that serv'd for her before,
And at her next birth, much like thee,
Through pangs fled to felicity,
Far within the bosom bright
Of blazing Majesty and Light:
There with thee, new welcome saint,
Like fortunes may her soul acquaint,
With thee there clad in radiant sheen,
No marchioness, but now a queen.

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row.

Ver. 12. And Cherubim, sweet-winged squires, Then called Heaven's henshmen, which means the same; henshman, or henchman, signifying a page of honour. See Minsheu, and also Mids. N. Dr. A. ii. S. ii.

"I do but beg a little changeling boy To be my henchman.”

The Queen of Fairies is the speaker. Milton's
curious expressions are in the first draught.
Ver. 14. With those just spirits that wear the
blooming palms,

Hymns devout and sacred psalmes
Singing everlastingly;

While all the starry rounds and arches

blue

Resound and echo hallelu:

That we on Earth, &c.

Ver. 18. May rightly answere that melodious

noise,

By leaving out those harsh ill sounding jarres

Of clamorous sin that all our music

marres:

And in our lives and in our song

May keepe in tune with Heaven, &c. In the second draught he describes the harsh discords" of sin by a technical term in music:

By leaving out these harsh CHROMATIC
jarres

Of sin that all our music marres:

Ver. 19. As once we could, &c.

Ver, 28. To live and sing with him in endlesse morne of light,

MISCELLANIES.

ANNO ÆTATIS XIX.

AT A VACATION EXERCISE IN THE COLLEGE, part

And misty regions of wide air next under,
And hills of snow, and lofts of piled thunder,
May tell at length how green-ey'd Neptune

raves,

In Heaven's defiance mustering all his waves;
Then sing of secret things that came to pass
When beldam Nature in her cradle was;
And last of kings, and queens, and heroes old,
Such as the wise Demodocus once told
In solemn songs at king Alcinous' feast,
While sad Ulysses' soul, and all the rest,
Are held, with his melodious harmony,
In willing chains and sweet captivity.
But fie, my wandering Muse, how thou dost stray!
Expectance calls thee now another way;
Thou know'st it must be now thy only bent
To keep in compass of thy predicament:
Then quick about thy purpos'd business come,
That to the next I may resign my room.

Latin, part English. The Latin speeches ended, Then Ens is represented as father of the Predica

the English thus began. '

HAIL, native Language, that by sinews weak
Didst move my first endeavouring tongue to

speak,

And mad'st imperfect words with childish trips,
Half unpronounc'd, slide through my infant-
lips,

Driving dumb Silence from the portal door,
Where he had mutely sat two years before:
Here I salute thee, and thy pardon ask,
That now I use thee in my latter task:
Small loss it is that thence can come unto thee,
I know my tongue but little grace can do thee:
Thou need'st not be ambitious to be first,
Believe me I have thither pack'd the worst:
And, if it happen as I did forecast,
The daintiest dishes shall be serv'd up last.
I pray thee then deny me not thy aid
For this same small neglect that I have made :
But haste thee straight to do me once a pleasure,
And from thy wardrobe bring thy chiefest trea-

sure,

;

Not those new-fangled toys, and trimming slight
Which takes our late fantastics with delight;
But cull those richest robes, and gay'st attire,
Which deepest spirits and choicest wits desire:
I have some naked thoughts that rove about,
And loudly knock to have their passage out
And, weary of their place, do only stay,
Till thou hast deck'd them in thy best array ;
That so they may, without suspect or fears,
Fly swiftly to this fair assembly's ears;
Yet I had rather, if I were to chuse,
Thy service in some graver subject use,
Such as may make thee search thy coffers round,
Before thou clothe my fancy in fit sound:
Such, where the deep transported mind may

soar

Above the wheeling poles, and at Heaven's door
Look in, and see each blissful deity
How he before the thunderous throne doth lie,
Listening to what uushorn Apollo sings
To the touch of golden wires, while Hebe brings
Immortal nectar to her kingly sire:

Then passing through the spheres of watchful fire,
I Written 1627. It is hard to say why they did
not first appear in edition 1645. They were first
added, but misplaced in edit. 1673. WARTON,

ments his two sons, whereof the eldest stood for
Substance with his canons, which Ens, thus speak-
ing, explains.

Good luck befriend thee, son; for, at thy birth,
Thy drowsy nurse hath sworn she did them spie
The faery ladies danc'd upon the hearth;
Come tripping to the room where thou didst lie,
And, sweetly singing round about thy bed,
Strew all their blessings on thy sleeping head.
She heard them give thee this, that thou shouldst
still

From eyes of mortals walk invisible:
Yet there is something that doth force my fear;
For once it was my dismal hap to hear
A Sibyl old, bow-bent with crooked age,
That far events full wisely could presage,
And in Time's long and dark prospective glass,
Foresaw what future days should bring to pass;
"Your son," said she,(" nor can you it prevent)
Shall subject be to many an Accident.
O'er all his brethren he shall reign as king,
And those, that cannot live from him asunder,
Yet every one shall make him underling;
Ungratefully shall strive to keep him under;
In worth and excellence he shall out-go them,
Yet, being above them, he shall be below
them;

From others he shall stand in need of nothing,
Yet on his brothers shall depend for clothing.
To find a foe it shall not be his hap,
And Peace shall lull him in her flowery lap;
Yet shall he live in strife, and at his door
Devouring War shall never cease to roar;
To harbour those that are at enmity.
Yea, it shall be his natural property
(not
What power, what force, what mighty spell, if
Your learned hands, can loose this Gordian

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Or rocky Avon, or of sedgy Lee,
Or coaly Tine, or ancient hallow'd Dee;
Or Humber loud, that keeps the Scythian's name;
Or Medway smooth, or royal-tower'd Thame.
[The rest was prose,]

AN EPITAPH

ON THE ADMIRABLE DRAMATIC POET W.Shakspeare.'
WHAT needs my Shakspeare, for his honour'd
The labour of an age in piled stones? [bones,
Or that his hallow'd reliques should be hid
Under a star-ypointing pyramid ?
Dear son of memory, great heir of fame,
What need'st thou such weak witness of thy name?
Thou, in our wonder and astonishment,
Hast built thyself a live-long monument.
For whilst, to the shame of slow-endeavouring art,
Thy easy numbers flow; and that each heart
Hath, from the leaves of thy unvalued book,
Those Delphic lines with deep impression took;
Then thou our fancy of itself bereaving,
Dost make us marble with too much conceiving;
And, so sepulcher'd, in such pomp dost lie,
That kings, for such a tomb, would wish to die.

ON THE

UNIVERSITY CARRIER,

Who sickened in the time of his vacancy, being
forbid to go to London, by reason of the plague,
HERE lies old Hobson; Death hath broke his girt,
And here, alas! hath laid him in the dirt;
Or else the ways being foul, twenty to one,
He's here stuck in a slough, and overthrown.
'Twas such a shifter, that, if truth were known,
Death was half glad when he had got him down;
For he had, any time this ten years full,
Dodg'd with him betwixt Cambridge and The
Bull.

And surely Death could never have prevail'd,
Had not his weekly course of carriage fail'd;
But lately finding him so long at home,
And thinking now his journey's end was come,
And that he had ta'en up his latest inn,
In the kind office of a chamberlin

Show'd him his room where he must lodge that

night,

Pull'd off his boots, and took away the light:
If any ask for him, it shall be sed,
"Hobson has supt, and's newly gone to bed."

ANOTHER ON THE SAME,

HERE lieth one, who did most truly prove
That he could never die while he could move;

So hung his destiny, never to rot
While he might still jog on and keep his trot,
Made of sphere-metal, never to decay
Until his revolution was at stay.

Time numbers motion, yet (without a crime
'Gainst old truth) motion number'd out his time:
And, like an engine, mov'd with wheel and weight
His principles being ceas'd, he ended straight.
Rest, that gives all men life, gave him his death,
And too much breathing put him out of breath;
Nor were it contradiction to affirm,
Too long vacation hasten'd on his term.
Merely to drive the time away he sicken'd,
Fainted, and died, nor would with ale be quick-
en'd;
[stretch'd,
"Nay," quoth he, on his swooning bed out-
"If I mayn't carry, sure I'll ne'er be fetch'd,
But vow, though the cross doctors all stood hear-

ers,

For one carrier put down to make six bearers."
Ease was his chief disease; and, to judge right,
He died for heaviness that his cart went light:
His leisure told him that his time was come,
And lack of load made his life burdensome,
That even to his last breath, (there be that say't)
As he were press'd to death, he cried, "More
weight;"

But, had his doings lasted as they were,
He had been an immortal carrier.
Obedient to the Moon he spent his date
In course reciprocal, and had his fate
Link'd to the mutual flowing of the seas,
Yet (strange to think) his wain was his increase:
His letters are deliver'd all and gone,
Only remains this superscription.

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Must now be nam'd and printed heretics
By shallow Edwards and Scotch what d'ye call:
But we do hope to find out all your tricks,
Your plots and packing worse than those of
Trent,
That so the Parliament

Birch, and from him doctor Newton, asserts, that this copy of verses was written in the twenty-shops-gate-street, where his figure in fresco, with second year of Milton's age, and printed with the an inscription, was lately to be seen. Peck, at Poems of Shakspeare at London in 1640. It first the end of his Memoirs of Cromwell, has printed Hobson's will, which is dated at the close of the appeared among other recommendatory verses, prefixed to the folio edition of Shakspeare's year 1630. plays in 1632. But without Milton's name or initials. This therefore is the first of Milton's pieces that was published.

* Hobson's inn at London was the Bull in BiVOL. VII.

He died Jan. 1, 1630, while the plague was in London. This piece was written that year. The proverb, to which Hobson's caprice, founded perhaps on good sense, gave rise, needs not to be repeated.

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WHAT slender youth, bedew'd with liquid odours,

Courts thee on roses in some pleasant cave,
Pyrrha? For whom bind'st thou

In wreaths thy golden hair,

Plain in thy neatness? O, how oft shall he
On faith and changed gods complain, and seas
Rough with black winds, and storms
Unwonted shall admire !

Who now enjoys thee credulous, all gold,
Who always vacant, always amiable

Hopes thee, of flattering gales
Unmindful. Hapless they,

To whom thou untried seem'st fair! Me, in my vow'd

Picture, the sacred wall declares to have hung
My dank and dropping weeds
To the stern god of sea.

From GEOFFREY OF MONMOUTH.

BRUTUS thus addresses DIANA in the country of LEOGECIA.

Goddess of shades, and huntress, who at will Walk'st on the rowling spheres, and through the deep;

On thy third reign, the Earth, look now, and tell What land, what seat of rest, thou bidst me seek, What certain seat, where I may worship thee For aye, with temples vow'd and virgin quires.

To whom, sleeping before the altar, DIANA answers in a vision the same night.

Brutus, far to the west, in the ocean wide,
Beyond the realm of Gaul, a land there lies,
Sea-girt it lies, where giants dwelt of old;
Now void, it fits thy people: thither bend
Thy course; there shalt thou find a lasting seat;
There to thy sons another Troy shall rise,

Shall awe the world, and conquer nations bold.'

From DANTE.

Ah Constantine, of how much ill was cause,
Not thy conversion, but those rich domains
That the first wealthy pope receiv'd of thee”.
From DANTE.

Founded in chaste and humble poverty,
'Gainst them that rais'd thee dost thou lift thy
horn,

Impudent whore, where hast thou plac'd thy hope? In thy adulterers, or thy ill-got wealth? Another Constantine comes not in haste3.

From ARIOSTO.

Then pass'd he to a flowery mountain green,
Which once smelt sweet, now stinks as odiously:
This was the gift, if you the truth will have,
That Constantine to good Sylvester gave,

From HORACE.

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BLESS'D is the man who hath not walk'd astray
In counsel of the wicked, and i' the way
Of sinners hath not stood, and in the seat
Of scorners hath not sat. But in the great
Jehovah's law is ever his delight,
And in his law he studies day and night,
He shall be as a tree which planted grows
By watery-streams, and in his season knows
To yield his fruit, and his leaf shall not fall,
And what he takes in hand shall prosper all.
Not so the wicked, but as chaff which fann'd
The wind drives, so the wicked shall not stand
In judgment, or abide their trial then,
Nor sinners in the assembly of just men.
For the Lord knows the upright way of the just,
And the way of bad men to ruin must.

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WHY do the Gentiles tumult, and the nations Muse a rain thing, the kings of the Earth upstand

With power, and princes in their congregations Lay deep their plots together through each land Against the Lord and his Messiah dear?

Let us break off, say they, by strength of hand Their bonds, and cast from us, no more to wear, Their twisted cords: He, who in Heaven doth dwell,

As thy possession I on thee bestow [sway'd,
The Heathen; and, as thy conquest to be
Earth's utmost bounds: them shalt thou bring
full low

With iron sceptre bruis'd, and them disperse
Like to a potter's vessel shiver'd so.

And now be wise at length, ye kings averse,

Be taught, ye judges of the Earth; with fear
Jehovah serve, and let your joy converse
With trembling; kiss the Son lest he appear
In anger, and ye perish in the way,

If once his wrath take fire, like fuel sere.
Happy all those who have in him their stay.

PSALM III. Aug. 9, 1653.

When he fled from Absalom

LORD, how many are my foes!

How many those,

That in arms against me rise;

Many are they,

That of my life distrustfully thus say
No help for him in God there lies.
But thou, Lord, art my shield, my glory,
Thee through my story,

The exalter of my head I count;
Aloud I cried

Unto Jehovah, he full soon replied,
And heard me from his holy mount.
I lay and slept; I wak'd again;
For my sustain

Was the Lord. Of many millions
The populous rout

I fear not, though, encamping round about,
They pitch against me their pavilions.
Rise, Lord; save me, my God; for thou

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PSALM IV. Aug. 10, 1653.

ANSWER me when I call,
God of my righteousness;
In straits and in distress,
Thou didst me disenthrall
And set at large; now spare,

Now pity me, and hear my earnest prayer.
Great ones, how long will ye

Shall laugh; the Lord shall scoff them; then My glory have in scorn?

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10 Apol. Smectymn. vol. i. p. 116. "Electra, v. 627.

's From Apol. Smectyinn. Ibid.

13 Hercul, Fur.

How long be thus forborn
Still to love vanity?

To love, to seek, to prize,

Thing false and vain, and nothing else but Yet know the Lord hath chose,

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[lies,

Will hear my voice, what time to him I cry. Be aw'd, and do not sin;

Speak to your hearts alone,

Upon your beds, each one,
And be at peace within.

14 From Tenure of Kings, &c. Pr. W. vol. i. Offer the offerings just 315.

Of righteousness, and in Jehovah trust.

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