URANIA, ON THE SCAFFOLD Pray, Sirs, be near me, When I do fall. cannot tell what postures [Act v.] FROM R. WILMOT'S DEDICATION OF "TANCRED & GISMUND" [See p. 422] TO THE LADIES MARIE PETRE & ANNE GREY -and now for that weary winter is come upon us, which bringeth with him drooping days & tedious nights, if it be true that the motions of our minds follow the temperature of the air wherein we live, then I think the perusing of some mournful matter, tending to the view of a notable example, will refresh your wits in a gloomy day, & ease your weariness of the lowring night. Which, if it please you, may serve for a solemn revel against the festival time: for Gismund's bloody shadow, with a little cost, may be entreated in her self-like person to speak to ye, [Dodsley. Old English Plays. Vol. vii.] THYRSIS, A PASTORAL ELEGY, IN THE PERSON OF SIR The gentlest Swain that Arcady e'er bred, And whilst that other Shepherds of his rank There as he by that silent water lay, To vent in grievous plaints, which more it fed; Whilst to the ruthless waves he did relate The story of his loss, and heavy fate. I You Nymphs, if any do inhabit here, (And I have heard that Nymphs in waters dwell), Whilst I, the saddest wight that e'er did tell His own mishaps, unfold to you my case, If to the Sea, of which you branches are, Do not mistake, nor offer to compare Those days with these, wherein my grief exceeds But now with her those graces all are gone.— II Gone is my love: and why then do I see Since to her making all her forces She Wisely employ'd, and She could give no more? Though she should frame the most celestial mold, To draw from all the heads of noble blood The best, and to infuse it into one, To make a mixture of all fair and good, Rare symmetry and sweet proportion. Was it to show that such a thing might be It was; and we are taught how frail the trust Is, that we give unto mortality; How soon she is resolved into dust, Whom erst the world so beautiful did see; But you were just that took her, but unkind In leaving me behind. Alas! why was I left thus all alone? Weep with me Waters to make up my moan. III She's gone, and I am here; yet do I find I see her fair soul in that blessed place, So did she break the bonds of heavy night, VOL. IV.-38 Unto that blessed place, where thou art gone. IV I come: yet something doth retard me here, When to thy lasting name I have uprear'd Know who thou wert, & that thou went from hence Then, world, farewell; you have I seen enough, And know how to despise your vanity: Your painted glories are of baser stuff, Made to delude those that with half eyes see; He, that's abstracted from you stands much higher, And greater things admire." 'Tis you I leave, to go where she is gone: Then, Waters, weep no more, here end your moan. This to the empty winds & waters he Alas! in vain (they cared not for his tears) Did thus unfold, to ease his misery: When lo! the Messenger of Night appears; For the fall'n Sun, which warn'd him to begone, De Tumulo, per illustrissimum Dominum Kenelmum Digby lectissimæ conjugi suæ structo, ejusque memoriæ dicato, Epigramma. Hac tua chara jacet, Digbeie, Venetia terrâ, [See Rutter's Shepheards Holiday, ed. 1635.] "SAPHO AND PHAO." [See p. 514] Vulcan's apology for his Crest. fools, they are things like Horns, but no Horns. For once in the Senate of Gods being holden a solemn session, in the midst of their talk, I put in my sentence; which was so indifferent, that they all concluded it might as well have been left out, as put in: and |