« PreviousContinue »
But when Isabella came,
And th' artillery of her eye ;
She beat out Susan by the bye.
But in her place I then obey'd
To whom ensued a vacancy : Thousand worse passions then possess'd The interregnum of my breast;
Bless me from such an anarchy !
Gentle Henrietta then,
Then Joan, and Jane, and Andria ;
And then a long et cætera.
But should I now to you relate
The powder, patches, and the pins,
That make up all their magazines.
If I should tell the politic arts
The letters, embassies, and spies, The frowns, and smiles, and flatteries, The quarrels, tears, and perjuries,
(Numberless, nameless, mysteries,)
And all the little lime-twigs laid
I more voluminous should grow
Than Holinshed or Stow.
But I will briefer with them be,
An higher and a nobler strain
Whom God grant long to reign.
HONOUR. SHE loves, and she confesses too ; There's then, at last, no more to do : The happy work's entirely done ; Enter the town which thou hast won ; The fruits of conquest now begin ; Iö, triumph ; enter in. What's this, ye gods! what can it be ? Remains there still an enemy? Bold Honour stands up in the gate, And would yet capitulate ; Have I o'ercome all real foes, And shall this phantom me oppose ?
Noisy nothing ! stalking shade !
Empty cause of solid harms !
Sure I shall rid myself of thee
Hail, old patrician trees, so great and good!
Hail, the poor Muse's richest manor-seat !
Here Nature does a house for me erect,
Here let me, careless and unthoughtful lying,
A silver stream shall roll his waters neår,
Ah! wretched, and too solitary he,
BORN 1608-DIED 1674.
So many specimens of this illustrious poet are given in the
former volume, and his shorter pieces have been so much diffused, that the following extracts from poems not so generally read, are rather offered as an apology for the absence of specimens from this great classic, than as a selection from his works.
SONG ON MAY MORNING.
Now the bright Morning-star, Day's harbinger,
Hail, bounteous May, that dost inspire
Hill and dale doth boast thy blessing.
EXTRACTS FROM COMUS.
The star, that bids the shepherd fold,