Is the Pacific Sea my home? or are All straights, and none but straights are ways to them, Whether where Japheth dwelt, or Cham, or Sem. We think that Paradise and Calvary, Christ's cross and Adam's tree, stood in one place; Look, Lord! and find both Adams met in me: As the first Adam's sweat surrounds my face, May the last Adam's blood my soul embrace. So in his purple wrapp'd receive me, Lord! SIR HENRY WOTTON. BORN 1568-DIED 1639. SIR HENRY WOTTON, an elegant writer, was born in Kent, and enjoyed several public offices in the reign of Elizabeth, but fell into disgrace along with Essex, and lived abroad till the accession of James I. when he was appointed ambassador to Venice. His writings display a pious and amiable mind. A MEDITATION. O THOU great Power! in whom we move, No hallowed oils, no gums I need, Was worlds of seas to quench thine ire: And said by him, that said no more, FAREWELL TO THE VANITIES OF THE FAREWELL, ye gilded follies, pleasing troubles; And torture free-born minds; embroider'd trains, 1 And blood allied to greatness is alone Fame, honour, beauty, state, train, blood, and birth, Are but the fading blossoms of the earth. I would be great, but that the sun doth still I would be high, but see the proudest oak more. I have wish'd all; but now I wish for neither, Great, high, rich, wise, nor fair: poor I'll be rather. Would the world now adopt me for her heir; As well as blind and lame; or give a tongue (a) An angel was a piece of coin, value ten shillings. great master' To stones by epitaphs; be called ' Welcome, pure thoughts; welcome ye silent groves; These guests, these courts, my soul most dearly loves. Now the wing'd people of the sky shall sing And if contentment be a stranger then, BEN JONSON. BORN 1574-DIED 1637. BEN JONSON, an eminent poet and dramatist, was born in London. He derived his descent from the Johnstones of Annandale, from which district his grandfather had removed to Carlisle. Though his hymns are not the finest effusions of his versatile genius, they are highly poetical; and it is pleasing to perceive that minds the most highly gifted have done homage to religion, though even in trivial instances, ON MY FIRST DAUGHTER, HERE lies to each her parents ruth, Yet all heav'n's gifts, being heaven's due, At six months end she parted hence With safety of her innocence; Whose soul heav'n's queen (whose name she bears), Hath plac'd among her virgin-train : EPITAPH ON ELIZABETH L. H. WOULD'ST thou hear what man can say In a little? reader, stay. Underneath this stone doth lie If, at all, she had a fault, Leave it buried in this vault. One name was Elizabeth, Th' other let it sleep with death; Fitter, where it died, to tell, Than that it liv'd at all. Farewell. |