Browne began his poetical career early, and closed it soon. He published the first part of 'Britannia's Pastorals' in 1613, the second in 1616; shortly after, his ' Shepherd's Pipe;' and, in 1620, produced his 'Inner Temple Masque,' which was then enacted, but not printed till a hundred and twenty years after the author's death, when Dr Farmer transcribed it from a MS. of the Bodleian Library, and it appeared in Tom Davies' edition of Browne's poems. Browne has no constructive power, and no human interest in his pastorals, but he has an eye for nature, and we quote from him some excellent specimens of descriptive poetry. SONG. Gentle nymphs, be not refusing, They and beauty are but lent you; "Twill be said, when ye have proved, Oh, then, fly all nice behaviour! SONG. 1 Shall I tell you whom I love? And if such a woman move 2 Nature did her so much right, As she scorns the help of art. As e'er yet embraced a heart; 3 Wit she hath, without desire To make known how much she hath; And her anger flames no higher Than may fitly sweeten wrath. Full of pity as may be, Though perhaps not so to me. 4 Reason masters every sense, And her virtues grace her birth: Modest in her most of mirth : 5 Such she is: and if you know That she be but somewhile young; Be assured, 'tis she, or none, POWER OF GENIUS OVER ENVY. 'Tis not the rancour of a canker'd heart That can debase the excellence of art, Nor great in titles makes our worth obey, Since we have lines far more esteem'd than they. VOL. I. T 289 For there is hidden in a poet's name A spell that can command the wings of Fame, And maugre all oblivion's hated birth Begin their immortality on earth, When he that 'gainst a muse with hate combines May raise his tomb in vain to reach our lines. EVENING. As in an evening when the gentle air I oft have sat on Thames' sweet bank to hear 6 Between two rocks (immortal, without mother) The new divorced leaves, that from each side And if dry eld by wrinkled skin appears, None could allot them less than Nestor's years. Yet that their happy voyage might not be Without Time's shortener, heaven-taught melody, (Music that lent feet to the stable woods, And in their currents turn'd the mighty floods, Sorrow's sweet nurse, yet keeping Joy alive, Sad Discontent's most welcome corrosive, The soul of art, best loved when love is by, The kind inspirer of sweet poesy, Least thou shouldst wanting be, when swans would fain Have sung one song, and never sung again,) Nevermore let holy Dee O'er other rivers brave, Kings row'd upon his wave. But silent be, and ever know Swell then, gently swell, ye floods, Ascend; and tell if ere this day A fairer prize was seen at sea. See the salmons leap and bound As they their beauties did despise Blow, but gently blow, fair wind, So mayst thou still have leave to blow, A DESCRIPTIVE SKETCH. Oh, what a rapture have I gotten now! |