For though the poet's matter nature be, 45 And himself with it, that he thinks to frame; And such wert thou! Look how the father's face 50 Of Shakspeare's mind and manners brightly shines In his well-turned and true-filed lines: In each of which he seems to shake a lance, As brandished at the eyes of ignorance. Sweet Swan of Avon! what a sight it were To see thee in our water yet appear, And make those flights upon the banks of Thames That so did take Eliza and our James ! But stay, I see thee in the hemisphere Advanced, and made a constellation there! Shine forth, thou Star of Poets, and with rage, Or influence, chide, or cheer the drooping stage, Which since thy flight from hence hath mourned like night, Hymn on the Nativity. I sing the birth was born to-night, Yet searched, and true they found it. The Son of God, th' Eternal King, That did us all salvation bring, And freed the soul from danger; He whom the whole world could not take, The Father's wisdom willed it so, Both wills were in one stature ; What comfort by him do we win, See this Babe, all innocence; contain William Drummond: 1585-1649. Spring. Sweet Spring, thou com'st with all thy goodly train, Thy head with flames, thy mantle bright with flowers, The zephyrs curl the green locks of the plain, The clouds for joy in pearls weep down their showers. Sweet Spring, thou com'st-but ah! my pleasant hours, And happy days, with thee come not again, The sad memorials only of my pain Do with thee come, which turn my sweet to sours. But she whose breath embalmed thy wholesome air, The Book of the World. Of this fair volume which we 'World' do name We clear might read the art and wisdom rare; Find out His power which wildest powers doth tame, His providence extending everywhere, His justice, which proud rebels doth not spare, Well pleased with coloured vellum, leaves of gold, Thomas Carew: 1589-1639. Now that the winter 's gone, the earth hath lost John Milton: 1608-1674. Lycidas. [In this monody the author bewails a learned friend, unfortunately drowned in his passage from Chester, on the Irish Sea, 1637; and by occasion foretells the ruin of our corrupted clergy, then in their height.] Yet once more, O ye laurels, and once more, I come to pluck your berries harsh and crude; Shatter your leaves before the mellowing year : That from beneath the seat of Jove doth spring; With lucky words' favour my destined urn; And bid fair peace be to my sable shroud. Fed the same flock, by fountain, shade, and rill.3 5 10 roll to and fro 15 poet 20 20 25 to the fields What time the gray-fly winds her sultry horn, feeding Oft till the star that rose at evening, bright, 30 Toward heaven's descent had sloped his westering wheel. Meanwhile the rural ditties were not mute, Now thou art gone, and never must return! Thee, Shepherd, thee the woods and desert caves, With wild thyme and the gadding vine o'ergrown, 40 The willows and the hazel copses green Fanning their joyous leaves to thy soft lays. 1 A fount of the poet's own creation. 2 Lucky words, words of good omen. 3 They belonged to the same college, and had the same pursuits. 4 One of Virgil's characters, supposed to have reference here to some person of eminence in the college. As killing as the canker to the rose, Or taint-worm to the weanling herds that graze, Such, Lycidas, thy loss to shepherds' ear. newly weaned 45 Where were ye, Nymphs, when the remorseless deep 50 Where your old bards, the famous Druids, lie, Nor on the shaggy top of Mona high, Nor yet where Deva spreads her wizard stream: Anglesea the Dee 55 Ay me! I fondly dream! Had ye been there-for what could that have done? The Muse herself, for her enchanting son, When by the rout that made the hideous roar, practise Were it not better done, as others use, To sport with Amaryllis in the shade, Fame is the spur that the clear spirit doth raise- To scorn delights, and live laborious days; Set-off to the world, nor in broad rumour lies; As he pronounces lastly on each deed, Of so much fame in heaven expect thy meed.' But now my oat proceeds, And listens to the herald of the sea That came in Neptune's plea. He asked the waves, and asked the felon winds, 1 Calliope, the Muse of epic poetry, was the mother of Orpheus. Orpheus was torn to pieces by the women of Thrace, whom he had treated with contempt. His head was thrown upon the river Hebrus, down which it rolled to the sea, and was borne across to the island of Lesbos. 2 The mistress of the shepherd Tityrus, one of Virgil's characters. 3 The mistress of the shepherd Egon, one of Virgil's characters. 4 Apollo, the god of poetry. 5 A celebrated fountain near Syracuse. 6 The river Mincio, near which Virgil was born. 7 Triton, deputed by Neptune, the god of the sea, to make a judicial inquiry into the matter. M |