SUCKLING. MONTROSE. — DENHAM.

Nick of time.

257

The Goblins

"High characters," cries one, and he would see Things that ne'er were, nor are, nor e'er will be.1 The Goblins. Epilogue.

MARQUIS OF MONTROSE. 1612-1650.

He either fears his fate too much,
Or his deserts are small,

That dares not put it to the touch

To gain or lose it all." My Dear and only Love I'll make thee glorious by my pen,

And famous by my sword.3

Ibid.

SIR JOHN DENHAM. 1615-1668.

Though with those streams he no resemblance hold,
Whose foam is amber and their gravel gold;
His genuine and less guilty wealth t' explore,
Search not his bottom, but survey his shore.

Cooper's Hill. Line 165.

Oh, could I flow like thee, and make thy stream
My great example, as it is my theme!
Though deep, yet clear; though gentle, yet not dull;
Strong without rage; without o'erflowing, full.

1 Whoever thinks a faultless piece to see,
Thinks what ne'er was, nor is, nor e'er shall be.

Line 189.

POPE: Essay on Criticism, part ii. line 53.
There's no such thing in Nature, and you'll draw
A faultless monster which the world ne'er saw.

SHEFFIELD: Essay on Poetry.

2 That puts it not unto the touch

To win or lose it all.

NAPIER: Montrose and the Covenanters, vol. ii.p p. 566.

8 I'll make thee famous by my pen,

And glorious by my sword.

SCOTT: Legend of Montrose, chap. xv.

Actions of the last age are like almanacs of the last year. The Sophy. A Tragedy.

But whither am I strayed? I need not raise
Trophies to thee from other men's dispraise;
Nor is thy fame on lesser ruins built;
Nor needs thy juster title the foul guilt

Of Eastern kings, who, to secure their reign,

Must have their brothers, sons, and kindred slain.1

On Mr. John Fletcher's Works.

RICHARD CRASHAW. Circa 1616–1650.

The conscious water saw its God and blushed.2 Epigram.

Whoe'er she be,

That not impossible she,

That shall command my heart and me.

And when it comes, say, Welcome, friend!

Ibid.

2 Nympha pudica Deum vidit, et erubuit (The modest Nymph saw the god, and blushed).- Epigrammationa Sacra. Aquæ in vinum versæ, p. 299.

Sydneian showers

Of sweet discourse, whose powers

Can crown old Winter's head with flowers.

To Lucasta, on going to the Wars.

When flowing cups pass swiftly round

With no allaying Thames.2

To Althea from Prison, ii.

Fishes that tipple in the deep,

Know no such liberty.

1 See Browne, page 218.

Ibid.

The mind, the music breathing from her face. -BYRON: Bride of Aby

dos, canto i. stanza 6.

2 See Shakespeare, page 103.

Stone walls do not a prison make,
Nor iron bars a cage;
Minds innocent and quiet take
That for an hermitage;
If I have freedom in my love,
And in my soul am free,
Angels alone that soar above
Enjoy such liberty.

To Althea from Prison, iv

1618-1667.

ABRAHAM COWLEY.

What shall I do to be forever known,
And make the age to come my own?

The Motto.

His time is forever, everywhere his place.

Friendship in Absence.

We spent them not in toys, in lusts, or wine,
But search of deep philosophy,

Wit, eloquence, and poetry;

Arts which I lov'd, for they, my friend, were thine.

On the Death of Mr. William Harvey.

His faith, perhaps, in some nice tenets might
Be wrong; his life, I'm sure, was in the right.1
On the Death of Crashaw.

The thirsty earth soaks up the rain,
And drinks, and gapes for drink again;
The plants suck in the earth, and are
With constant drinking fresh and fair.

From Anacreon, ii. Drinking.

Fill all the glasses there, for why
Should every creature drink but I?
Why, man of morals, tell me why?

1 For modes of faith let graceless zealots fight,
He can't be wrong whose life is in the right.

Ibid.

POPE: Essay on Man, epilogue iii. line 303.

A mighty pain to love it is,
And 't is a pain that pain to miss;
But of all pains, the greatest pain
It is to love, but love in vain.

Hope, of all ills that men endure,
The only cheap and universal cure.
Th' adorning thee with so much art
Is but a barb'rous skill;
"Tis like the pois'ning of a dart,
Too apt before to kill.

From Anacreon, vii. Gold.

The Mistress. For Hope.

The Waiting Maid.

Nothing is there to come, and nothing past,
But an eternal now does always last.1

When Israel was from bondage led,

Led by the Almighty's hand
From out of foreign land,

The great sea beheld and fled.

Davideis. Book i. Line 25.

An harmless flaming meteor shone for hair,
And fell adown his shoulders with loose care.2

The monster London laugh at me.

Let but thy wicked men from out thee go,
And all the fools that crowd thee so,
Even thou, who dost thy millions boast,
A village less than Islington wilt grow,
A solitude almost.

The fairest garden in her looks,
And in her mind the wisest books.

Line 41

Book ii. Line 95.

Of Solitude, xi.

Ibid. vii.

The Garden, i.

God the first garden made, and the first city Cain.

8

Ibid. ii.

1 One of our poets (which is it?) speaks of an everlasting now. — - SOUTHEY:

The Doctor, chap. xxv. p. 1.

2 Loose his beard and hoary hair

Stream'd like a meteor to the troubled air.

See Bacon, page 167.

GRAY: The Bard, i. 2.