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“O see, Constantia! my short race is run; See how my blood the thirsty ground doth dye; But live thou happier than thy love hath done, And when I'm dead, think sometime upon me! More my short time permits me not to tell, For now Death seizeth me; my dear, farewell to As soon as he had spoke these words, life fled From his pierc'd body, whilst Constantia, she Kisses his cheeks, that lose their lively red, And become pale and wan; and now each eye, Which was so bright, is like, when life was done, A star that's fall'n, or an eclipsed sun. Thither Philocrates was driven by Fate, And saw his friend lie bleeding on the earth; Near his pale corpse his weeping sister sate, Her eyes shed tears, her heart to sighs gave birth. Philocrates, when he saw this, did cry, “Friend, I'll revenge, or bear thee company' “Just Jove hath sent me to revenge his fate; Nay, stay, Guisardo, think not Heaven in jest: 'Tis vain to hope flight can secure thy state.” Then thrust his sword into the villain's breast. “Here,” said Philocrates, “thy life I send A sacrifice, to appease my slaughter'd friend.” But, as he fell, “Take this reward,” said he, “For thy new victory.” With that he flung His darted rapier at his enemy, Which hit his head, and in his brain-pan hung. ' With that he falls, but, lifting up his eyes, “Farewell, Constantia!” that word said, he dies. - What shall she do She to her brother runs, His cold and lifeless body does embrace; She calls to him that cannot hear her moans, And with her kisses warms his clammy face. “My dear Philocrates " she, weeping, cries, “Speak to thy sister!” but no voice replies.
Then running to her love, with many a tear,
But, seeing them both dead, she cry’d, “Ah me!
“It shall not sure be said that thou didst die,
THE TRACIC.ML HISTORY OF " PKRAMUS AND THISBE.
To The right worshipful, My very Loving MASTER MR, LAMBERTOSBOLSTON,
chief school-MASTER OF WESTMINstER school.
SIR, My childish Muse is in her spring, and yet Can only show some budding of her wit. One frown upon her work, learn'd sir, from you, Like some unkinder storm shot from your brow, Would turn her spring to withering autumn's time, And make her blossoms perish ere their prime. But if you smile, if in your gracious eye She an auspicious alpha can descry, How soon will they grow fruit! how fresh appear! That had such beams their infancy to chear!
Which being sprung to ripeness, expect then
The earliest offering of her grateful pen."
Your most dutiful scholar,
The all-subduing god his bow doth bend,
Like as a bird, which in a net is ta'en,
These lovers, though their parents did reprove Their fires, and watched their deeds with jealousy; Though in these storms no comfort could remove The various doubts and fears that cool hot love; Though he nor her's, nor she his face could see, Yet this could not abolish Love's decree;
For age had crack'd the wall which did them part;
of odoriferous breath; no other sport
They could enjoy; yet think the time but short,
Sometimes they did exclaim against their fate,
They curst the wall that did their kisses part,
This in effect they said; “Curs'd Wall ! O Why
Abortive tears from their fair eyes out-flow'd,
* Dear love!” said Pyramus, “how long shall we,
“What though our cruel parents angry be?
7. From the XTNmAIA, sive Musarum Cantabrigiensium Consentus et Congratulatio, ad serenissi-.
mum Britamiarum Regem Carolum, de quinta sua sobole [Princess Anne], clarissima Principe, sibl nuper felicissimme nata. Cantabrigiae, 1637. I doubt not but it will prove a pleasing amusement to the curious reader, to trace the first dawnings of genius in some of our first-rate poetic characters; and to compare them with the eminence they afterwards attained to, and the rank they at last held among their brethren of the laurel. Some early specimens of Dryden's genius may be seen in the first volume of his poems. Those of Cowley, here printed, abound with strokes of wit, some true, but the far greater part false; which thoroughly characterise the writer, and may be justly pronounced to point out his genius and manner, in miniature. K.—This species of entertainment the kind attention of Mr. Kynaston (the friend to whom I owe these remarks) enables me considerably to extend, by furnishing the earliest
ical productions of some writers who are now universally looked up to as excellent; none of which are to be found in any edition of their respective works. In such juvenile performances, it is well observed by an admirable critic, “the absurd conceits and extravagant fancies are the true seeds and
germs, which afterwards ripen, by proper culture, ist9 the most luxuriant harvests.” See Annual Register, 1779, p. 180. J. N.
Whilst the rude North Charles his slow wrath doth call, whilst warre is fear'd, and conquesthop’d by all, The severall shires their various forces lend, And some do men, some gallant horses send, Some steel, and some (the stronger weapon) gold: These warlike contributions are but old. That countrey learn’d a new and better way, Which did this royall prince for tribute pay. Who shall henceforth be with such rage possest, Torouse our English lion from his rest? When a new somme doth his blest stock adorn, Then to great Charles is a new armie born. In private births hopes challenge the first place: There's certaintie at first in the king's race; And we may say, Such will his glories be, Such his great acts, and, yet not prophesie. I see in him his father's boundlesse sprite, Powerfull as flame, yet gentle as the light. I see him through an adverse battle thrust, Bedeck'd with noble sweat and comely dust. * I see the pietie of the day appeare, Joyn'd with the heate and valour of the yeare, which happie Fate did to this birth allow : I see all this; for sure’tis present now.
* From the voces votive ab Academicis Cantabrigiensibus pronovissimo Caroli et Mariae Principe Filio, emissae. Cantabrigiae, 1640.
9 Henry, who was declared by his father duke of Gloucester in 1641, but not so created till May 13,
1659. He died September 13, 1660,-The Verses are taken from the Woces Wotival, &c. 1640. J. N.
Leave off them, London, to accuse the starres
Ta’ infernal sisters did a council call
And, had there been beforeno spring of theirs,
They would have made a Helicon with tears.
* Something is here wanting, as appears from the want both of rhyme and connection. J. N.