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Thirsil, as well as from the invocation to ihe“ King of Seas,” and other passages in the Eclogues, (especially the 4th), that some of the author's fellow collegians were intended to be pourtrayed in the more prominent characters, and that certain transactions connected with the Church, or University, at, or about that period, are designed to be alluded to. Whether we are losers or gainers by our ignorance on this point is of little moment; the conjecture is borne out by the text : our pleasanter concern is with the co:tending parties, whom we left preparing to chaunt their alternate strains in “ long discourse," or in “shorter verses ;” and in the sequel we find euch does justice to his “Love's perfections," with so much ingenuity and success, that in accordance with the established rules of bucolic disputation, their friendly umpire declines a decision; but reserving the prize for a future occasion,

-- praises their pastoral strains, And gives to each a present for his pains.

Thou gentle boy, what prize may well reward thee?

So slender gift as this not half requites thee :
May prosp'rous stars, and quiet seas regard thee;

But most that pleasing star that most delights thee : May Proteus'still, and Glaucus dearest hold thee; But most her influence all safe enfold thee : May she with gentle beams from her fair sphere behold


Thomalin. As whistling winds 'gainst rocks their voices tearing;

As rivers through the vallies softly gliding; As haven after cruel tempests fearing;

Such, fairest boy, such is thy verse's sliding:

*“ Arcades Ambo." “Not that they were Arcadiads," says Servius, on this passage in Virgil's 7th Eclogue, “but so skilful in singing, that they might be esteemed Arcadians."

Thiné be the prize; may Pan and Phæbus grace thee; Most, whom thou most admir’st, may she embrace thee; And flaming in thy love, with snowy arms enlace thee.

You lovely boys, full well your art you guided;

That with your striving songs your strife is ended :
So you yourselves the cause have well decided;

And by no judge can your award be mended.

Then since the prize for only one intended,
You both refuse; we justly may reserve it,
And as your offering in love's temple serye it;
Since none of both desire when both so well deserve it.

· Yet,-for such songs should ever be rewarded,

Daphnis take thou this hook of ivory clearest, Given me by Pan, when Pan my verse regarded ;

This fears the wolf when most the wolf thou fearest.

But thou, my Thomalin, my love, my dearest, Take thou this pipe which oft proud storms restrained ; Which spite of Chamus' spite 1 still retained ; Was never little pipe more soft, more sweetly plained. And you fair troop, if Thirsil you disdain not,

Vouchsafe with me to take some short refection; Excess, or daints, my lowly roof maintains not; Pears, apples, plumbs; no sugar'd-made confection,

up they rose, and by Love's sweet direction, Sea-nymphs with shepherds sort: sea-boys complain not: That wood-nymphs with like love them entertain not, And all the day to songs and dances lending, Too swift it runs, and spends too fast in spending: With day their sports began, with day they take their



The “ Miscellanies” will not detain us long. The most extensive of these, but in point of general merit and interest the most unequal, is entitled —" Eliza ; an Elegy upon the unripe decease of Sir Antony Irby: composed at the request (and for a monument) of his surviving Lady.” Many of the stanzas abound in true pathos, and the most exalted piety, as well as in poetio excellence: the address from the dying Knight to his Lady can scarcely be parallelled.

Look, as a stag, pierced with a fatal bow, When by a wood he walk'd securely feeding,

In coverts thick conceals his deadly blow, And feeling death swim in his endless bleeding,

His heavy head bis fainting strength exceeding,

Bids woods adieu, so sinks into his grave; Green brakes, and primrose sweet, his seemly hearse


So lay a gentle Knight now full of death, With cloudy eyes, his latest hour expecting ;

And by his side, sucking his fleeting breath, His weeping spouse, Eliza, life neglecting,

And all her beauteous fairs with grief infecting :

Her cheek as pale as his; 'twere hard to scan, If death's or sorrow's face did look more pale or wan.

Then she : "Great Lord! thy judgments righteous be To make good ill, when to our ill we use it :

Good leads on to the greatest good, to Thee; But we to other ends most foul abuse it;

A common fault, yet cannot that excuse it :

We love thy gifts, and take them gladly ever; We love them, ah! too much, more than we love the


Then falling low upon her humbled knees,
And all her heart within her eye expressing.

“Was't not thy hand that tied the sacred knot? Was't not thy hand that to my hand did give him ?

Hast thou not made us one? command'st thou not None loose what thou hast bound ? if then thou 'reave

him, How without me by halves dost thou receive him!

Tak'st thou the head, and leav'st the heart behind ? Aye me! in me alone can'st thou such monster find?

* Ah! why dost thou so strong, me weak assail ? Woman of all thy creatures is the weakest,

And in her greatest strength did weakly fail; Thou who the weak and bruised never breakest,

Who never triumph in the yielding seekest :

Pity my weak estate, and leave me never; I ever yet was weak, and now more weak than ever.”

With that her fainting spouse lift sup his head, And with some joy, his inward griefs refraining;

Thus with a feeble voice, yet cheerful, said : “Spend not in tears this little time remaining ;

Thy grief doth add to mine, not ease my paining:

My death is life; such is the scourge of God : Ah! if his rods be such, who would not kiss his rod?

“My dear! once all my joy, now all my care ;. To these my words - these my last words-apply thee.

Give me thy hand: these my last greetings are ! Shew me thy face--I never more shall eye


Ah would our boys, our lesser selves, were by thee !

These my live pictures to the world I give : So single only die, in them twice two I live.

“You little souls, your sweetest time enjoy, And softly spend amongst your mother's kisses;

And with your pretty sports, and artless joy, Supply that weeping mothers' grievous misses :

Ah! while you may, enjoy your little blisses,

While yet you nothing know: when back you view, Sweet will this knowledge seem, when yet you nothing


“For when to riper times your years arrive, No more, ah then no more, may you go play you:

Launch'd in the deep, far from the wished hive, Change of world's tempests through blind seas will

sway you, Till to the long-long'd haven they convey you:

Through many a wave this brittle life must pass, And cut the churlish seas, shipt in a bak of glass.

How many ships in quicksands swallow'd been! What gaping waves, whales, monsters there expect you ! How

many rocks, much sooner felt than seen! Yet let no fear, no outward fright affect you:

He holds the stern, and he will safe direct you,

Who to my sails thus long so gently blew, That now I touch the shore, before the seas I knew.

“ I touch the shore, and see my rest preparing : Oh, blessed God! how infinite a blessing

Is in this thought, that through this troubled faring, Through all the faults this guilty age depressing,

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