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Where virtue, honor, wit, and beauty lay;
rape : Thus poor thieves suffer, when the
Yet in my breast more dang'rous con
KING HENRY TO FAIR
Yet is my signal to the battle's sound
breath, Should think, should speak, or whisper
of thy death : For in one smile or lower from thy sweet
eye Consists my life, my hope, my victory. Sweet Woodstock, where my Rosamond
doth rest, Be blest in her, in whom thy king is
blest : For though in France awhile my body
be, My heart remains (dear paradise) in
1585–1649. [WILLIAM DRUMMOND was born at the manor house of Hawthornden, near Edinburgh, on December 13, 1585, and died there December 4, 1649. His chief poetical works are: Teares on the Death of Mæliades (Prince Henry), 1613; Poems, 1616; Forth Feasting, a panegyricke to the King's most excellent Majestie, 1617; Flowers of Sion, 1623; The Entertainment of the high and mighty monarch Charles, 1633; The Exequies of the Honourable Sir Anthony Alexander, Knight, 1638. Besides these he wrote innumerable political pamphlets, etc., and a considerable historical work. More important are his well-known Conversations with Ben Jonson, of which an authentic copy was discovered by Mr. David Laing and printed by him in 1832. A unique copy of the poems, printed on one side of the paper only, and containing Drummond's autograph corrections, is in the Bodleian Library. It varies most curiously from the later editions.]
SUMMONS TO LOVE.
The nightingales thy coming each where
sing: PHOEBUS, arise !
Make an eternal spring! And paint the sable skies
Give life to this dark world which lieth With azure, white, and red:
dead; Rouse Memnon's mother from her Ti- | Spread forth thy golden hair thon's bed
In larger locks than thou wast wont That she may thy career with roses before, spread:
And emperor-like decore
With diadem of pearl thy temples fair : Fair seasons, budding sprays, sweetChase hence the ugly night
smelling flowers : Which serves but to make dear thy glo- To rocks, to springs, to rills, from leafy rious light.
Thou thy Creator's goodness dost de. - This is that happy morn,
clare, That day, long-wished day
And what dear gifts on thee he did not Of all my life so dark,
A stain to human sense in sin that low(If cruel stars have not my ruin sworn And fates my hopes betray), Which, purely white, deserves
What soul can be so sick, which by thy An everlasting diamond should it mark. songs This is the morn should bring unto this
(Attired in sweetness) sweetly is not
driven grove My Love, to hear and recompense my
Quite to forget Earth's turmoils, spites, love. Fair King, who all preserves,
And lift a reverend eye and thought to
Sweet, artless songster, thou my mind
dost raise Shalt see than those which by Penéus'
To airs of spheres, yes, and to angels' streams Did once thy heart surprise.
lays. Now, Flora, deck thyself in fairest
guise : If that ye winds would hear
THE LESSONS OF NATURE. A voice surpassing far Amphion's lyre, Of this fair volume which we World do Your furious chiding stay; Let Zephyr only breathe,
name, And with her tresses play.
If we the sheets and leaves could turn - The winds all silent are, And Phoebus in his chair
Of him who it corrects, and did it frame, Ensaffroning sea and air
We clear mig read the art and wisdom Makes vanish every star : Night like a drunkard reels Beyond the hills, to shun his flaming Find out his power which wildest powwheels :
ers doth tame, The fields with flowers are deck'd in
His providence extending everywhere, every hue,
His justice which proud rebels doth not The clouds with orient gold spangle
spare, their blue;
In every page, no period of the same.
But silly we, like foolish children, rest
best, TO A NIGHTINGALE,
On the great writer's sense ne'er taking SWEET bird, that sing'st away the early hold;
hours Of winters past, or coming, void of care, Or if by chance we stay our minds on Well pleased with delights which pres- aught,
It is some picture on the margin wrought.
A GOOD THAT NEVER SATIS
FIES THE MIND.
A GOOD that never satisfies the mind,
A knowledge than grave ignorance
name, Are the strange ends we toil for here
below, Till wisest death make us our errors
1573–1631. (BORN 1573, in London; his mother being a descendant of Sir Thomas More. He studied both at Oxford and Cambridge, and also at Lincoln's Inn; travelled in Italy and Spain, “and returned perfect in their languages." He was afterwards in the service of Lord Chancellor Ellesmere and others, and in 1610 was persuaded by James I.“ to enter into sacred orders." In 1621 the king made him Dean of St. Paul's, and he held other benefices. He died in 1631. Izaak Walton's celebrated Life was prefixed to his Eighty. Sermons, fol., 1640; and this Life asserts that“,
most of his poems were written before the twentieth year of his age. The Poems were collected and first published posthumously in 1633; but Harl. MS. 5110 (British Museum), is entitled, “Jhon Dunne, his Satyres anno domini 1593.")
But come bad chance,
Itself o'er us t'advance.
For weariness of thee,
But since that I
By feigned deaths to die.
And yet is here to-day,
Then fear not me,
More wings and spurs than he.
When thou sigh’st thou sigh’st not
It cannot be
Thou art the life of me.
0, how feeble is man's power,
That if good fortune fall, Cannot ado another hour,
Nor a lost hour recall !
Let not thy divining heart
Forethink me any ill,
But think that we
Alive, ne'er parted be.
FROM "VERSES TO SIR HENRY | Having from these suck'd all they haà WOTTON."
of worth Be then thine own home, and in thyself And brought home that faith which you dwell;
carry'd forth, Inn anywhere; continuance maketh
I throughly love: but if myself I've won Hell.
To know my rules, I have, and you have,
THE MESSAGE. home :
SEND home my long stray'd eyes to me, Follow (for he's easy pac’d) this snail,
Which, oh! too long have dwelt on thee; Be thine own palace, or the world's thy
But if they there have learned such ill, jail.
Such forc'd fashions But in the world's sea do not like cork
And false passions, sleep
That they be Upon the water's face, nor in the deep
Made by thee Sink like a lead without a line : but as
Fit for no good sight, keep them still. Fishes glide, leaving no print where they pass,
Send home my harmless heart again, Nor making sound, so closely thy course Which no unworthy thought could stain; go;
But if it be taught by thine Let men dispute whether thou breathe To make jestings
Keep it still, 'tis none of mine.
Yet send me back my heart and eyes, bad.
That I may know and see thy lies, But, sir, I advise not you, I rather do And may laugh and joy when thou Say o'er those lessons which I learn’d Art in anguish,
And dost languish Whom, free from Germany's schisms, For some one and lightness
That will none, Of France, and fair Italie's faithlessness, Or prove as false as thou dost now.
SIR EDWARD DYER.
[Born about 1550, at Sharpham, near Glastonbury; educated at Balliol College, Oxford; ambassador to Denmark, 1589; Ảnighted, 1596; died, 1607.]
TO PHILLIS THE FAIR SHEP
At first to look upon her:
Her rising still to honor.
My Phillis hath prime feathered flow.
ers, That smile when she treads on them: And Phillis hath a gallant flock
That leaps since she doth own them. But Phillis hath too hard a heart,
Alas, that she should have it!
1552-1598–9. (EDMUND SPENSER was born in London about 1552. He was educated at Merchant Taylors' School: his first poetical performances, translations from Petrarch and Du Bellay, published without his name in a miscellaneous collection, belong to the time of his leaving school in 1569. From that year to 1576 he was at Pembroke Hall, Cambridge. In 1579 he was in London, acquainted with Philip Sidney, and in Lord Leicester's household. In 1580 was published, but without his name, The Shepheards Calender; and in the autumn of that year he went to Ireland with Lord Grey of Wilton, as his private secretary. The remainder of his life, with the exception of short visits to England, was spent in Ireland, where he held various subordinate offices, and where he settled on a grant of forfeited land at Kilcolman, in the county of Cork. In 1589 he accompanied Sir Walter Raleigh to London, and in 1590 published the first three books of The