to be used as seals or rings, and kept as memorials of him, and his affection to them.

His dear friends and benefactors, Sir Henry Goodier, and Sir Robert Drewry, could not be of that number, nor could the Lady Magdalen Herbert, the mother of George Herbert, for they had put off mortality, and taken possession of the grave before him; but Sir Henry Wotton and Dr. Hall, the then late deceased bishop of Norwich, were; and so were Dr. Duppa, bishop of Salisbury, and Dr. Henry King, bishop of Chichester (lately deceased); men in whom there was such a commixture of general learning, of natural eloquence, and Christian humility, that they deserve a commemoration by a pen equal to their own, which none have exceeded.

And in this enumeration of his friends, though many must be omitted, yet that man of primitive piety, Mr. George Herbert, may not; I mean that George Herbert who was the author of "The Temple, or Sacred Poems and Ejaculations;" a book in which, by declaring his own spiritual conflicts, he hath comforted and raised many a dejected and discomposed soul, and charmed them into sweet and quiet thoughts; a book, by the frequent reading whereof, and the assistance of that Spirit that seemed to inspire the author, the reader may attain habits of peace and piety, and all the gifts of the Holy Ghost and heaven; and may, by still reading, still keep those sacred fires burning upon the altar of so pure a heart, as shall free it from the anxieties of this world, and keep it fixed upon things that are above. Betwixt this George Herbert and Dr. Donne there was a long and

dear friendship, made up by such a sympathy of inclinations, that they coveted and joyed to be in each other's company; and this happy friendship was still maintained by many sacred endearments, of which that which followeth may be some testimony.

TO MR. GEORGE HERBERT,

SENT HIM WITH ONE OF MY SEALS OF THE ANCHOR

AND CHRIST.

A sheaf of snakes used heretofore to be my seal, which is the crest of our poor family.

Qui priùs assuetus serpentum falce tabellas
Signare, hæc nostræ symbola parva domûs
Adscitus domui domini.

Adopted in God's family, and so

My old coat lost, into new arms I go.
The cross my seal in baptism spread below,
Does by that form into an anchor grow.
Crosses grow anchors, bear as thou shouldst do
Thy cross, and that cross grows an anchor too.
But he that makes our crosses anchors thus,
Is Christ, who there is crucified for us.
Yet with this I may my first serpents hold
(God gives new blessings, and yet leaves the old);
The serpent may, as wise, my pattern be,
My poison, as he feeds on dust, that's me.
And, as he rounds the earth to murder, sure
He is my death, but on the cross my cure.
Crucify nature then; and then implore
All grace from him, crucified there before.
When all is cross, and that cross anchor grown,
This seal's a catechism, not a seal alone.

Under that little seal great gifts I send,

Both works and prayers, pawns and fruits of a friend.
O may that saint that rides on our great seal,

To you that bear his name large bounty deal.

JOHN DONNE.

IN SACRAM ANCHORAM PISCATORIS,

GEORGE HERBERT.

Quòd Crux nequibat fixa clavique additi,
Tenere Christum scilicet ne ascenderet,
Tuive Christum . . . . . .

Although the cross could not Christ here detain,
When nail'd unto't, but he ascends again;

Nor yet thy eloquence here keep him still,
But only whilst thou speak'st, this anchor will:
Nor canst thou be content, unless thou to

This certain anchor add a seal, and so
The water and the earth, both unto thee

Do owe the symbol of their certainty.

Let the world reel, we and all ours stand sure,
This holy cable's from all storms secure.

GEORGE HERBERT.

I return to tell the reader, that besides these verses to his dear Mr. Herbert, and that hymn that I mentioned to be sung in the quire of St. Paul's church, he did also shorten and beguile many sad hours by composing other sacred ditties; and he writ a hymn on his death-bed which bears this title:

A HYMN TO GOD MY GOD,

IN MY SICKNESS, MARCH 23, 1630.

SINCE I am coming to that holy room,
Where, with thy quire of saints for evermore
I shall be made thy music, as I come
I tune my instrument here at the door,
And what I must do then, think here before.

Since my physicians by their loves are grown
Cosmographers; and I their map, who lie
Flat on this bed...

So, in his purple wrapt, receive me, Lord!
By these his thorns, give me his other crown:
And, as to other souls I preach'd thy word,
Be this my text, my sermon to mine own,

"That he may raise, therefore the Lord throws down."

If these fall under the censure of a soul, whose too much mixture with earth makes it unfit to judge of these high raptures and illuminations, let him know, that many holy and devout men have thought the soul of Prudentius to be most refined, when, not many days before his death, "he charged it to present his God each morning and evening with a new and spiritual song;" justified by the example of king David, and the good king Hezekiah, who, upon the renovation of his years, paid his thankful vows to Almighty God in a royal hymn, which he concludes in these words, "The Lord was ready to save, therefore I will sing my songs to the stringed instruments all the days of my life in the temple of my God."

The latter part of his life may be said to be a continued study; for as he usually preached once a week, if not oftener, so after his sermon he never gave his eyes rest till he had chosen out a new text, and that night cast his sermon into a form, and his text into divisions; and the next day betook himself to consult the fathers, and so commit his meditations to his memory, which was excellent. But upon Saturday he usually gave himself and his mind a rest from the weary burthen of his week's meditations, and usually spent that day in visitation of friends, or some other diversions of his thoughts; and would say, "that he gave both his body and mind that refreshment, that he might be enabled to do the work of the day following not faintly, but with courage and cheerfulness."

Nor was his age only so industrious, but in the most unsettled days of his youth, his bed was not able to detain him beyond the hour of four in a morning; and it was no common business that drew him out of his chamber till past ten, all which time was employed in study, though he took great liberty after it. And if this seem strange, it may gain a belief by the visible fruits of his labours, some of which remain as testimonies of what is here written, for he left the resultance of fourteen hundred authors, most of them abridged and analyzed with his own hand: he left also six score of his sermons, all written with his own hand; also an exact and laborious treatise concerning self-murder, called "Biathanatos," wherein all the laws violated by that act are diligently surveyed and judiciously censured; a treatise written in