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course of Abraham's strange voiage,
Sodom burning. The Scene before Lot's thire mistresse sorrow and perplexity,
gate. accompanied with frightfull dreams ;
The Chorus, consisting of Lot's shepand tell the manner of his rising by
herds come to the citty about some afnight, taking his servants and his son
fairs, await in the evening thire mais. with him. Next may come forth Sa
ter's return from his evening walk to. rah herself. After the Chorus, or Is
ward the citty gates. He brings with mael, or Agar. Next some shepheard
him two young men, or youths, of noble or companie of merchants, passing
form. After likely discourses, prethrough the mount in the time that
pares for thire entertainment. By then Abram was in the mid-work, relate to
supper is ended, the gallantry of the Sarah what they saw. Hence lamen
towne passe by in procession, with tations, fears, wonders. The matter in
music and song, to the temple of the mean while divulg'd, Aner, or Es
Venus Urania or Peor ; and, under. chol, or Mamre, Abram's confederats,
standing of tow noble strangers arriv'd, come to the house of Abram to be
they send 2 of thire choysest youth, with more certaine, or to bring news ; in
the priest, to invite them to thire city the mean while discoursing, as the
solemnities; it beeing an honour that world would, of such an action, divers
thire citty had decreed to all fair perways; bewayling the fate of so noble a
sonages, as beeing sacred to their goda man faln from his reputation, either
dess. The angels being ask't by the through divin justice or superstition, or
priest whence they are, say they are of covering to doe some notable act through
Salem ; the priest inveighs against the zeal. At length a servant, sent from
strict reign of Melchisedec. Abram, relates the truth; and last he
Lot, that knows thire drift, answers himselfe comes in with a great traine
thwartly at last. Of which notice given of Melchizedec's, whose shepheards,
to the whole assembly, they hasten beeing secretlye witnesses of all pas
thither, taxe him of præsumption, sinsages, had related to their master, and
gularity, breach of city-customs; in he conducted his friend Abraham home
fine, offer violence. The Chorus of with joy.
shepheards præpare resistance in thire Baplistes. The Scene, the Court.
master's defence ; calling the rest of Beginning, From the morning of He
the serviture: but, being forc't to give ro'ds birth day.
back, the angels open the dore, rescue In ibemar. Herod, by some counsel
Lot, discover themselves, warne him gin of b. MS. er persuaded on his birthOreis the queen
to gether his friends and sons in law out may plot, under day to release John Bap
of the city. ging for his il- tist, purposes it, causes
He goes, and returns; as haring berty, to seek bim to be sent for to court
met with some incredulous. Some to a spare by from prison. The queen
other freind or son in law (out of the his freedom of hears of it, takes occaSpeech.
way when Lot came to his house) oversion to passe wher he is, on purpose,
takes bim to know his buisnes. Heer is that, under prætense of reconsiling to
disputed of incredulity of divine judge. him, or seeking to draw a kind retrac
ments, and such like inatters. tation from him of the censure on the
At last is described the parting from marriage; to which end sbe sends a
the citty. The Chorus depart with their courtier before, to sound whether he
maister. The angels doe the deed with might be persuaded to mitigate his sen
all dreadful execution. The king and tence; which not finding, she herself
nobles of the citty may come forth, craftily assays; and on his constancie,
and serve to set out the terror. A Chofounds an accusation to Herod of a con
rus of angels concluding, and the tumacious affront, on such a day, be
angels relating the event of Lot's jourfore many peers; præpares the king to
ney, and of his wife, some passion, and at last by her daugh
The first Chorus, beginning, may reter's dancing, effects it. There may
late the course of the citty; each evene prologize the spirit of Philip, Herod's
ing every one, with mistresse or Carl. brother. It may also be thought that
med, gitterning along the streets, or swHerod bad well bedew'd himself with
lacing on the banks of Jordan, or down wine, which made him grant the easier
the stream. to his wive's daughter.
At the priests' inviting the angels to Some of his disciples also, as to con
the solemnity, the angels, pittying tort gratulate his liberty, may be brought
beauty, may dispute of love, and how it in ; with whom, after certain command
differs from lust; seeking to win them. of his death, many compassionacing
In the last scene, to the king and words of his disciples, bewayling his
nobles, when the fierce thunder begins youth cut off in his glorious cours ; he
aloft, the angel appeares all girt with telling them his work is don, and wish
flames, which, he saith, are the flames ing them to follow Christ his mais
of true love, and tells the king, wzo .ter.
falls down with terrour, his just sufferisc, liv: Sodom. The title, Cupid's funeral pile :
as also Athane's, that is, Gener, Lot's sa
in law, for despising the continual ad- | martyrd by linguar the Dane. See monitions of Lot. Then, calling to the
Speed, L. viii, C. ii. thunders, lightning, and fires, he bids lxxii. Sigberi, tyrant of the West-Saxons, them heare the call and command of
slaine by a swinheard. God, to come and destroy a godlesse Ixxiii. Edmund, brother of Athelstan, slaine by a nation. He brings them down with
theefe at his owne table. Malmesb. some short waruing to other nations to lyxiv. Edwin, son to Edward the younger, for take heed.
lust depriv'd of his kingdom, or rather by lv. Moabitides, or Phineas. The epitasis
faction of monks, wkome he haled ; toge whercof may lie in the contention, first,
ther [with] the impostor Dunstan. between the father of Zimri and Elea lxxv. Edward, son of Edgar, murder'd by his zer, whether he (ought] to have slain
step-mother. To which may be inserthis son without law? Next, the ambas
ed the tragedies stirr'd up betwixt the sadors of the Moabites, expostulating
monks and priests about mariage. about Cosbi, a stranger and a noble wo Lxxvi. Etheldred, son of Edgar, a slothful king; man, slain by Phineas.
the ruin of his land by the Danes. It may be argued about reformation Ixxvji. Ceaulin, king of the West-Saxons, for and punishment illegal, and, as it were,
tyrannie depos'd and banísh't; and dyby tumult. After all arguments dri
ing. ven home, then the word of the Lord lxxvii. The slaughter of the monks of Bangor may be brought, acquitting and ap
by Edelfride, stirrd up, as is said, by proving Phineas.
Ethelbert, and lie by Austine the monke; Ivi. Christus Patiens. The Scene, in the
because the Britains would not receave the garden. Beginning, from the comming
rites of the Roman church. See Bede, tbither, till Judas betrajes, and the of
Geffrey Monmouth, and Holinsbed, p. ficers lead him away. The rest by
104. Which must begin with the conMessage and Chorus.
vocation of British Clergie by Austin to His agony may receav noble expres
determine superfluous points, which by sions.
them were refused. (vii. Christ born.
Ixxix. Edwin, by vision, promis'd the kingdom of liij. Herod massacring, or Rachel weeping.
Northumberland on promise of his conuerMatt. ii.
sion; and therein establish'l by Rodoald, Ixix. Christ bound.
king of [the] East-Angles. Ix. Christ crucifiod.
1xxx. Oswin, king of Deira, sluine by Ostie Ixi. Christ risen.
his friend, king of Bernitia, through inLxii. Lazarus. John, xi.
stigation of flatterers. See Holinsh. p.
115. Ixxxi. Sigibert, of the East-Angles, keeping
companie uith a person excommunicated, BRITISH TRAGEDIES.
slaine by the same man in his house, according as the bishop Cedda had fore
told. Ixiii. The cloister-king Constans set up by Ixxxii, Egfride, king of the Northumbers, slaine Vortiger. Venutius, husband to Car
in battle against the Picts ; having betismandua.
fore wasted Ireland, and made warre for Ixiv. Vortiger poison'd by Roena. ·
no reason on men that ever lov'd the EnIxv. Vortiger immurd. Vortiger marrying
glish ; forewarn'd alio by Cuthbert not Roena. See Speed. Reproou'd by Vo
to fight with the Ficls. din, archbishop of London. Speed. lxxxiii, Kinewulf, king of the West-Saxons, The massacre of the Britains by Hengist
slaine by Kincard in the house of one of in thire cups at Salisbury plaine.
his concubins. Malmsbury.
lxxxiv. Gunthildis, the Danish ladie, with her lxvi. Sigher, of the East-Saxons, revolted
husband Palingus, and her son, slaine by from the faith, and reclaimed by Jaru
the appointment of the traitor Edrick, in mang.
king Ethelred's days. Holinsh. L. vii. Lxvii. Ethelbert, of the East-Angles, slain by
C. v. together with the massacre of the
Danes at Oxford. Speed.
poyson'd by his wife Ethelburge, Offa's Ixviii. Sebert slaine by Penda, after he had left
daughter; who dyes miserably also, in his kingdom. See Holinshed, p. 116.
beggery, after adultery, in a nunnery, Ixix. Wulfer slaying his tow sons for beeing
Speed in Bithrick.
Ixxxvi. Alfred, in disguise of a minstrel, discovers lxx. Osbert, of Northumberland, slain for ra
the Danes' negligence; sets on [lhem] vishing the wife of Bernbocard, and the
with a mightie slaughter. About the Danes brought in. See Stow, Holinsh.
same tyme the Devonshire men rout L. vi. C. xii. And especially Speed, L.
Hubba, and slay him. viii. C. jj.
Ixxxvii. Athelstan exposing his brother Edwin to Ixxi. Edmund, last king of the East-Angles,
the sea, and repenting.
1xxxviii. Edgar slaying Ethelwold for false play | caus'd the victorie, &c. Scotch story, p. in wooing. Wherein may be set out
155 &c. his pride, and lust, which he thought to xcix. Kenneth, who, having privily poison'd close by favouring monks and building
Malcolm Duffe that his own son might monasteries. Also the disposition of
succeed, is slain by Fenella. Scotch woman in Elfrida towards her hus
Hist. p. 157, 158, &c. band. [Peck proposes, and justly, c. Macbeth. Reginning at the arrivall of I think, to read cloke instead of close. ]
Malcolm at Mackduffe. The matter of Ixxxix. Swane beseidging London, and Ethelred
Duncan may be express't by the aprepuls't by the Londoners.
pearing of his ghost. xc. Harold slaine in battel, by William The
Normon. The first scene may begin
LYCIDAS. and brother dissuading him. xci. Edmund Ironside defeating the Danes In this MONODY, the author bewails a learned
at Brentford; with his combat with Ca friend, unfortunately drowned in bis passage nute.
from Chester on the Irish seas, 1637. And by xcii. Edmund Ironside murder'd by Edrick the
occasion foretells the ruin of our corrupted traitor, and reveng'd by Canute.
clergy, then in their height. xciii. Gunilda, daughter to king Canute and
[Edward King, the subject of this Monody, Emma, wife to Henry III. emperour,
was the son of sir John King, knight, secretary accus'd of inchastitie ; defended by her
for Ireland, under queen Elizabeth, James the English page in combat against a giant first, and Charles the first. He was sailing like adversary; who by him at two blows from Chester to Ireland, on a visit to his is slaine, 8c. Speed in the life of Ca
friends and relations in that country: these nute.
were, his brother sir Robert King, knight; xciv. Hardiknute dying in his cups: an exam and his sisters, Anne wife of sir George Caulple to riot.
field lord Claremont, and Margaret, abovexcv. Edward the Confessor's divorsing and im
nientioned, wife of sir George Loder, chief prisoning his noble wife Editha, God justice of Ireland ; Edward King bishop of uin's daughter. Wherin is showed his
Elphin, by whom he was baptized; and Wilover-affection to strangers, the cause
liam Chappel, then dean of Cashel, and proof Godwin's insurrection. Wherein
vost of Dublin college, who had been his tutor Godwin's forbearance of battel, prajs'd; at Christ's college Cambridge, and was afterand the English moderation on both
wards bishop of Cork and Ross, and in this passides, magnifi'd. His (Edward's] slack
toral is probably the same person that is styled nesse to redresse the corrupt clergie,
old Damoetas, v. 36. When, in calm weather, and superstitious prætence of chas not far from the English coast, the ship, a very titie.
crazy vessel, a fatal and perfidious bark, struck on a rock, and suddenly sunk to the bottom with all that were on board, no one escaping, Aug. 10, 1637. King was now only twenty
five years old. He was perhaps a native of IreSCOTCH STORIES, OR RATHER BRI. | land. TISH OF THE NORTH PARTS.
At Cambridge, he was distinguished for his piety,
and proficiency in polite literature. He has
no inelegant copy of Latin jambics prefixed to xcvi. Athirco slain by Natholochus, whose a Latin comedy called Senile Odium, acted at
daughters he had ravish'l; and this Na Queen's college, Cambridge, by the youth of
Nec flagra Megæræ ferrea horrendum intaxcvii. Lufe and Donwald. A strange story
Venena nulla, præter illa dulcia xcviii. Ilaie, the plowman, who, with his two Amoris; atque bis vim abstulere noxiam
sons that were at plure, running to the bat Casti lepores, innocua festivitas,
Public Verses of his time. He has a copy of What could the Muse herself that Orpheus bore,
To tend the homely, slighted, shepherd's trade,
And strictly meditate the thankless Muse?
Were it not better done, as others use,
To sport with Amaryllis in the shade, I come to pluck your berries harsh and crude :
Or with the tangles of Neæra's hair ? And, with forc'd fingers rude,
Fame is the spur that the clear spirit doth raise Shatter your leaves before the mellowing year:
(That last infirmity of noble mind) Bitter constraint, and sad occasion dear,
To scorn delights and live laborious days; Compels me to disturb your season due :
But the fair guerdon when we hope to find, For Lycidas is dead, dead ere his prime,
And think to burst out ioto sudden blaze, Young Lycidas, and hath not left his peer :
Comes the blind Fury with the abhorred shears, Who would not sing for Lycidas ? he knew 10
And slits the thin-spun life. “But not the Himself to sing, and build the lofty rhyme.
praise,” He must not float upon his watery bier
Phæbus replied, and touch'd my trembling ears; Unwept, and welter to the parching wind,
“Fame is no plant that grows on mortal soil, Without the meed of some melodious tear.
Nor in the glistering foil
Set off to the world, nor in broad rumour lies : That from beneath the seat of Jove doth spring;
But lives and spreads aloftbs those pure eyes, Begin, and somewhat loudly sweep the string.
And perfect witness of all-judging Jove; 81 Hence with denial vain, and coy excuse :
As he pronounces lastly on each deed,
Of so much fame in Heaven expect thy meed.”. So may some gentle Mase With lucky words favour my destin'd urn; 30
O fountain Arethuse, and thou honour'd flood, And, as he passes, turn,
Smooth-sliding Mincius, crown'd with vocal reeds! And bid fair peace be to my sable shroud.
That strain I heard was of a higher mood :
But now my oat proceeds,
And listens to the herald of the sea Together both, ere the high lawns appear'd
That came in Neptune's plea ;
90 Under the opening eye-lids of the Morn,
He ask'd the waves, and ask'd the felon winds, We drove afield, and both together heard
What hard mishap bath doom'd this gentle swain? What time the gray-Ay winds her sultry horn,
And question'd every gust of rugged wings Battening our flocks with the fresh dews of night,
That blows from off each beaked promontory : Oft till the star, that rose, at evening bright, 30
They knew not of his story; Toward Heaven's descent had slop'd his wester
And sage Hippotades their answer brings, ing wheel.
| That not a blast was from his dungeon stray'd; Mean while the rural ditties were not mute,
The air was calm, and on the level brine Temper'd to the oaten fute;
Sleek Panope with all her sisters play'd. Rough Satyrs danc'd, and Fauns with cloven heel
It was that fatal and perfidious bark, 100 From the glad sound would not be absent long ;
Built in the eclipse, and rigg'd with curses dark, And old Damotas lov'd to bear our song.
That sunk so low that sacred head of thine. But, О the heavy change, now thou art gone,
Next Camus, reverend sire, went footing slow, Now thou art gone, and never must return!
His mantle hairy, and his bonpet sedge, "Thee, shepherd, thee the woods, and desert caves
Inwrought with figures dim, and on the edge With wild thyme and the gadding vine o'er
Like to that sanguine flower inscrib'd with woe.
“Ah! who hath reft“ (quoth he)” my dearest grown, And all their echoes mourn :
(pledge?”. The willows, and the hazel copses green,
The pilot of the Galilean lake; Shall now no more be seen
Two massy keys he bore of metals twain, 110 Fanning their joyous leaves to thy soft lays.
(The golden opes, the iron shuts amajn,) As killing as the canker to the rose,
He shook his miter'd locks, and stern bespake: ' Or taint-worm to the weanling herds that graze,
“How well could I have spar'd for thee young Or frost to flowers, that their gay wardrobe wear,
swain, When first the white-thorn blows;
Enow of such, as for their bellies' sake Such, Lycidas, thy loss to shepherds' ear.
Creep, and intrude, and climb into the fold? Where were ye, Nymphs, when the remorse
Of other care they little reckoning make, less deep
Than how to scrarnble at the shearers' feast, Clos'd o'er the head of your lov'd Lycidas ? 51
And shove away the worthy bidden guest; For neither were ye playing on the steep,
Blind mouths! that scarce themselves know how Where your old bards, the famous Druids, lie,
to hold Nor on the shaggy top of Mona high,
A sheep-hook, or have learn'd aught else the least Nor yet where Deva spreads her wizard stream:
That to the faithful herdman's art belongs! 121 Ay me! I fondly dream!
What recks it them? What need they? They Had ye been there for what could that have
And, when they list, their lean and fashy songs | With eager thought warbling his Doric lay: Grate on their scrannel pipes of wretched straw; And now the Sun had stretch'd out all the hills, The hungry sheep look up, and are not fed, And now was dropt into the western bay: 191 But, swoln with wind and the rank mist they At last he rose, and twitch'd his mantle blue: draw,
To morrow to fresh woods, and pastures new. Rot inwardly, and foul contagion spread : Besides what the grim wolf with privy paw Daily devours apace, and nothing sed : But that two-handed engine at the door 130 ORIGINAL Various Readings of LYCIDAS, Stands ready to smite oce, and smite no more.” | Return, Alpheus, the dread voice is past,
From Milton's MS, in his own hand. That shrunk thy streams; return, Sicilian Muse, And call the vales, and bid them hither cast | Ver. 10. Who would not sing for Lycidas, he Their bells, and flowerets of a thousand hues.
well knew. Ye valleys low, where the mild whispers use Ver. 22. To bid faire peace, &c, Of shades, and wanton winds, and gushing brooks, Ver. 26. Under the glimmering eye-lids, &c. On whose fresh lap the swart-star sparely looks; Ver. 30. Oft till the eden-starre bright Throw hither all your quaint enamell’d eyes,
Towards Heaven's descent had sloapt That on the green turf suck the honied showers,
his burnisht wheel. And purple all the ground with vernal flowers. | Ver. 47. Or frost to flowres that their gay but Bring the rathe primrose that forsaken dies, 142
tons wear. The tufted crow-toe, and pale jessamine,
Here bear had been written, and erased, before The white pink, and the pansy freak'd with jet, wear. The glowing violet,
| Ver. 58. What could the golden-hayrd Calliope The musk-rose, and the well-attir'd woodbine,
For her inchaunting son, With cowslips wan that hang the pensive head,
When she beheld (the gods far-sighted And every power that sad embroidery wears:
bee) Bid amaranthus all his beauty shed,
His goarie scalpe rowle downe the Three And dasladillies fill their cups with tears, 150
cian lee. To strew the laureat herse where Lycid lies. Here, after inchaunting son, occurs in the For, so to interpose a little ease,
margin Let our frail thoughts dally with false surmise ;
Whome universal Nature might lament, Ay me! whilst thee the shores and sounding seas
And Heaven and Hel deplore, Wash far away, where'er thy bones are hurl'd,
When his divine head downe the streame Whether beyond the stormy Hebrides,
was sent. Where thou perhaps, under the whelming lide, The line Anu Heaven, &c. is erased : dirine Visit'st the bottom of the monstrous world ;
head is also altered to divine visage, and afOr whether thou, to our moist vows denied,
terwards to goary visage. Sleep'st by the fable of Bellerus old, 160 Ver. 69. Hid in the tangles, &c. Where the great vision of the guarded mount Ver. 85. Oh fountain Arethuse, and, thou smooth Looks toward Namancos and Bayona's hold;
food, Look horneward, angel, now, and melt with ruth: 1
Soft-sliding Mincius, And, O ye dolphins, waft the hapless youth. | Smooth is then altered to fam'd, and next to ho
Wecp no more, woful shepherds, weep no nour'd: And soft-sliding to smooth-sliding. For Lycidas your sorrow is not dead, [more, / Ver. 105. Scrauld ore with figures dim. Sunk though he be beneath the watery noor; | Inwrought is in the margin. So sinks the day-star in the ocean bed,
Ver. 129. Daily devours apace, and little sed. And yet anon repairs his drooping head, 169 Nothing is erased. And tricks his beams, and with new-spangled ore Ver. 138. On whose fresh lap the swart star stinte Flames in the forehead of the morning sky:
ly looks. So Lycidas sunk low, but mounted high,
At first spurely, as at present. Through the dear might of him that walk'd the Ver. 139. Bring hither, &c,
Ver. 142. Bring the rathe primrose that unred: Where, other groves and other streams along,
ded dies, With nectar pure his oozy locks he laves,
Colouring the pale cheek of uninjoy'd lose; and hears the unexpressive nuptial song,
And thai sad floure that strove iu the blest kingdoms meek of joy and love.
To write his own woes on the vermeil There entertain him all the saints above,
graine: In solemn troops, and sweet societies,
Next, adde Narcissus t'at still weeps in That sing, and, singing in their glory, move,
vaine; And wipe the tears for ever from his eyes.
The woodbine, and the pancie freak't Now, Lycidas, the shepherds weep no more;180
with jet, Henceforth thou art the genius of the shore,
The glowing violet, In thy large recompense, and shalt be good
The cowslip wan that hangs his pensive To all that wander in that perilous flood.
head, Thus sang the uncouth swain to the oaks and
And every bud that sorrow'sliverie weares; rills,
Let daffadillies fill their cupswith teares, While the still Morn went out with sandals gray;
Bid amaranthus all his beautie shed. He touch'd the tender stops of various quills, Here also the well-attir'd woodbine appears as a