Euphrosine.

Behold the five-fold guard of sense which keeps
The sacred stream, sit drooping; near them sleep
Two horrid monsters: Fame, summon each sense,
To tell the cause of this strange accidence.

Hereupon Fame sounding her trumpet; Arabia Brittannica looks cheerfully up, the senses are startled, Detraction and Oblivion throw off their iron slumber, busily bestowing all their powers to fill their cups at the fount with their old malicious intention to suck it dry; but a strange and heavenly music suddenly striking through their ears, which causing a wildness and quick motion in their looks, drew them to light upon the glorious presence of the king, they were suddenly thereby daunted and sunk down."

Our next quotation shall consist of a lyric, (sung by choristers), which is worthy of any masque whatever. The openings of the two first stanzas are beautiful.

CANT.
1.

Troynouant is now no more a city :

O great pity! is't not pity?
And yet her towers on tiptoe stand,
Like pageants built on fairy land;
And her marble arms,

Like to magic charms,

Bind thousands fast unto her,

That for her wealth and beauty daily woo her;
Yet, for all this, is't not pity,

Troynouant is now no more a city?

2.

Troynouant is now a summer arbour,
Or the nest wherein doth harbour

The eagle, of all birds that fly
The sovereign, for his piercing eye;

If you wisely mark,

"Tis beside a park,

With the fierce lion, the fair unicorn,

Or else it is a wedding hall,

Where four great kingdoms hold a festival.

3.

Troynouant is now a bridal chamber,

Whose roof is gold, floor is of amber;

By virtue of that holy light,

That burns in Hymen's hand, more bright
Than the silver moon

Or the torch of noon;

Hark what the echoes say !

Britain till now ne'er kept a holiday,
For Jove dwels here: and 'tis no pity

If Troynouant be now no more a city.”

After this, we are favoured by the author with a somewhat tedious explanation of the foregoing verses.

6

We then arrive at

the aldermen, town clerk, and counsel of the Citie.' The recorder makes a speech to the King (which we will spare the reader); after which, three cups of gold are presented to his Majesty, in requital for the patience which it is presumed he must display upon this occasion. His Majesty next encounters Sylvanus," dressed up in green ivy, with four of his followers similarly accoutred.

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"Upon sight of his Majesty, they make a stand, Sylvanus breaking forth into this abrupt passion of joy:

Sylvanus.

Stay, Sylvanus, and let the loudest voice of music proclaim it, (even as high as heaven), that he is come.

Alter Apollo redit, Nouus En, iam regnat Apollo.

Which acclammation of his was borne up into the air, and there mingled with the breath of their musical instruments; whose sound being vanished to nothing, thus goes our speaker on:

Sylvanus.

Most happy Prince, pardon me, that being mean in habit, and wild in appearance, (for my richest livery is but leaves, and my stateliest dwelling in the woods), thus rudely, with piping Sylvans, I presume to intercept your Royal passage. These are my walks; yet stand I here, not to cut off your way, but to give it a full and a bounteous welcome, being a messenger sent from the Lady Eirene, my mistress, to deliver an errand to the best of all these worthies, your royal self. Many kingdoms hath the lady sought out to abide in, but from them all, hath she been most churlishly banished: not that her beauty did deserve such unkindness, but that (like the eye of heaven) her's were too bright, and there were no eagles breeding in those nests, that could truly behold them.

At last here she arrived, destiny subscribing to this warrant, that none but this land should be her inheritance."

We must now pass by Peace' and Plenty, Gold' and Silver,' Pomona' and Ceres, and come at once upon the

following pastoral description of' Vertumnus.'

"Instead of a hat, his brows were bound about with flowers, out of those thick heaps, here and there, peeped a queer apple, a cherry, or a peach, this boon-grace he made of purpose to keep his face from heat, (because he desired to look lovely) yet the sun found him out, and by casting a continual eye at him, whilst the old man was dressing his arbours, his cheeks grew tawnie, which colour, for the better grace, he himself interpreted blushing. A white head he had, and sun burnt hands; in the one he held a weeding hook, in the other a grafting knife; and this was the tenor of his speech: That he was bound to give thanks to heaven, in that the arbour and trees, which glowing in that fruitful Cynthian garden, began to droop and hang down their green heads, and to uncurl their crisped forlocks, as fearing, and in some sort, feeling the sharpness of autumnian malice, are now on the sudden, by the divine influence, apparelled with a fresh and more lively verdure than ever they were before."

Music is now commanded to carry all the prayers of the persons present for his Majesty's happy reign as "hie as Heaven," which she does in the following agreeable manner :

Canto.

Shine, Titan, shine,

Let thy sharp rays be hurl'd

Not on this under world,

For now tis none of thine.

These first four lines were sung by one alone, the single lines

following, by a chorus in full voices.

Chor. No, no tis none of thine.

5

That in the North

First rising, shone (so far)
Bright as the morning star,
At his gay coming forth.
Chor. See, see, he now comes forth.

6

How soon joys vary?

Here staid had still! O then
Happy both peace and men,
But here had list, not tarry.
Chor. O grief; had list not tarry.

7

No, no, his beams

Must equally divide

Their heat to orbes; beside,

Like nourishing silver streams,
Chor. Joys slide away like streams.

8

Yet, in this lies

Sweet hope; how far soever
He bides, no clouds can sever
His glory from our eyes.
Chor. Dry, dry, your weeping eyes.

9

And make heaven ring

His welcome, shouted loudly;
For heaven itself looks proudly,
That earth has such a king.

Chor. Earth has not such a king.

And we must put a close to our extracts. We, however, refer the "curious reader" (if any of our readers should be curious) to the Latin oration, delivered by one of the scholars of St. Paul's school, to his Majesty, as well as to "Tower of Pleasure," erected in Fleet Street," fourscore and ten feet in heighth, and fifty in breadth," where sat "Justice," lately descended from Heaven," and " Virtue, with Fortune by her side." Here, also, was "Envy, unhandsomely attired in black," cast

ing her eyes, sometimes on the four Cardinal Virtues, and sometimes on his Majesty's four kingdoms of England, Scotland, France!!! and Ireland. We have then the four Elements, in their" proper shapes," and " Zeal," who lays before his Majesty two pages of rhyme, the proper offspring of Thomas Middleton. But these, and indeed all other things, we must pass over, and conclude with the following song, which "went forth," as it is said, to the sound of hautboys and other loud instruments.

Canto.

Where are all the honours owing?
Why are seas of people flowing?
Tell me, tell me, rumour!
Though it be thy humour,
More often to be lying,

Than from thy breath to have truth flying.
Yet, alter now that fashion,

And, without the stream of passion,

Let the voice swim smooth and clear,

When words want gilding, then they are most dear.

Behold! where Jove, and all the states
Of Heav'n, through Heav'n's seven silver gates,
All in glory riding,

(Backs of clouds bestriding)

The milky way do cover;

Which starry path be measured over,

The Deities convent,

In Jove's high Court of Parliament,
Rumour, thou doest lose thine aims;

This is not Jove, but one as great-King James !

This last line is worthy of an especial note of admiration. King James never heard, in public, we believe, these songs sung to " loud instruments;" but there was a vast deal of silent incense offered up to him (as well as to the bull Apis), in the shape of poems and compliments, and, we confess, that we are at times a little ashamed of the prostration of poets before the" golden calves" of past years, when the most preposterous praise and contemptible servility distinguished but too many of the irritable tribe. There are a few, indeed, upon record, such as Milton and Marvel, who did not lie prone that fools might tread upon them; or who, like Shakspeare, avoided, as well as could be done, that laughable deference to "the great,"