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But thou, my sun, more bright than he
Tell Age it daily wasteth,
I heard the praise of Beauty's grace,
But now thy beams have clear'd my sight,
And when my will is done, then Cynthia shine,
FROM WILBYE'S MADRIGALS. good lady, All other nights and days in honour of that night, Lady, your words do spite me, That happy, heavenly night, that night so dark and Yet your sweet lips so soft kiss and delight me; shady,
Your deeds my heart surcharged with overjoying, Wherein my love had eyes that lighted my delight. Your taunts my life destroying ;
Since both have force to kill me,
Fight you with smiling glances,
So, like swans of Meander,
My ghost from hence shall wander,
Singing and dying, singing and dying.
THERE is a jewel which no Indian mine can buy, And yet mine eyes augment their showers.
No chemic art can counterfeit ;
It makes men rich in greatest poverty, The meads are mantled all with green,
Makes water wine, turns wooden cups to gold, The trembling leaves have clothed the treen,
The homely whistle to sweet music's strain ; The birds with feathers new do sing;
Seldom it comes, to few from heaven sent, But I, poor soul, whom wrong doth rack, That much in little—all in nought_Content. Attire myself in mourning black, Whose leaf doth fall amidst his spring.
Change me, O heaven ! into the ruby stone And as you see the scarlet rose
That on my love's fair locks doth hang in gold, In his sweet prime his buds disclose,
Yet leave me speech to her to make my moan, Whose hue is with the sun revived ;
And give me eyes her beauty to behold : So, in the April of mine age,
Or if you will not make my flesh a stone, My lively colours do assuage,
Make her hard heart seem flesh, that now is Because my sunshine is deprived.
Love me not for comely grace,
Who makes his seat a stately stamping steed, For my pleasing eye or face ;
Whose neighs and plays are princely to behold; Not for any outward part,
Whose courage stout, whose eyes are fiery red, No, nor for my constant heart ;
Whose joints well knit, whose harness all of gold, For those may fail, or turn to ill,
Doth well deserve to be no meaner thing And thus we love shall sever :
Than Persian knight, whose horse made him a Keep, therefore, a true woman's eye,
king. And love me still, Yet know not why,
By that bedside where sits a gallant dame, So hast thou the same reason still,
Who casteth off her brave and rich attire,
Whose petticoat sets forth as fair a frame
Who sits and sees her petticoat unlaced,
Like two proud armies marching in the field,
Joining a thund'ring fight, each scorns to yield,
Give me my heart and I will go,
- No, no, no. FROM BIRD'S COLLECTION OF SONGS, &c.
But since my dear doth doubt me, Your shining eyes and golden hair,
With no, no, no, I mean to fout thee; Your lily rosed lips most fair,
No, no, no. Your other beauties that excel,
Now there is hope we shall agree, Men cannot chuse but like them well ;
Since double no imparteth yea ; But when for them they say they'll die,
If that be so, my dearest, Believe them not, they do but lie.
With no, no, no, my heart thou cheerest.
Ambitious love hath forced me to aspire
Cold winter ice is fled and gone,
And summer brags on every tree ;
The red-breast peeps among the throng
Of wood-hrown birds that wanton be :
Each one forgets what they have been,
Hold out my heart, with joy's delights accloy'd ; Proceed, then, in this deperate enterprise
Hold out my heart and show it, With good advice, and follow love, thy guide,
That all the world may know it, That leads thee to thy wished paradise :
What sweet content thou lately hast enjoy'd. Thy climbing thoughts this comfort take withal,
She that “ Come, dear!” would say, That if it be thy foul disgrace to slide,
Then laugh, and smile, and run away ; Thy brave attempt shall yet excuse thy fall.
And if I stay'd her would cry nay,
Fy for shame, fy. Amid the seas a gallant ship set out,
My true love not regarding, Wherein nor men nor yet ’munition lacks, Hath giv'n me at length his full rewarding, In greatest winds that spareth not a clout, So that unless I tell But cuts the waves in spite of weather's wrack, The joys that overfill me, Would force a swain that comes of coward kind, My joys, kept in full well, To change himself, and be of noble mind.
I know will kill me.
TO HIS LOVE.
FROM ENGLAND'S HELICON.
Say, dear, will you not have me?
FROM BATESON'S MADRIGALS.
Love would discharge the duty of his heart
Come away, come, sweet love!
WHITHER So fast? Ah, see the kindly flowers
YET stay, alway be chained to my heart
(Born, 1554. Died, 1600.)
Was born in the Weald of Kent. Wood places snatching." Whether Apollo was ever so comhis birth in 1553. Oldys makes it appear pro- plaisant or not, it is certain that Lyly's work of bable that he was born much earlier*. He “Euphues and his England,” preceded by another studied at both the universities, and for many called “ Euphues, the Anatomy of Wit,” &c. years attended the court of Elizabeth in expecta- promoted a fantastic style of false wit, bombastic tion of being made Master of the Revels. In this metaphor, and pedantic allusion, which it was object he was disappointed, and was obliged, in fashionable to speak at court under the name of his old age, to solicit the Queen for some trifling Euphuism, and which the ladies thought it indisgrant to support himt, which it is uncertain whe- pensable to acquire. Lyly, in his Euphues, ther he ever obtained. Very little indeed is probably did not create the new style, but only known of him, though Blount, his editor, tells us collected and methodised the floating affectathat “ he sate at Apollo's table, and that the god tions of phraseology. - Drayton ascribes the gave him a wreath of his own bays without overthrow of Euphuism to Sir P. Sydney, who,
(* Lyly was born in Kent in 1554, and was matriculated at Oxford in 1571, when it was recorded in the entry
did first reduce that he was seventeen years old.-COLLIER's Annals,
Our tongue from Lylie's writing then in use, vol. iii, p. 174.]
Talking of stones, stars, plants, of fishes, flies, # If he was an old man in the reign of Elizabeth.
Plying with words and idle similies, Oldys's conjecture as to the date of his birth seems to be As th' English apes and very zanies be verified, -as we scarcely call a man old at fifty.
Of everything that they do hear and see.
Sydney died in 1586, and Euphues had appeared many years after his death ; and it seems to have but six years earlier. We may well suppose expired, like all other fashions, by growing vulgar. Sydney to have been hostile to such absurdity, Lyly wrote nine plays, in some of which there is and his writings probably promoted a better considerable wit and humour, rescued from the taste ; but we hear of Euphuism being in vogue | jargon of his favourite system.
CUPID AND CAMPASPE.
Brave prick-song! who is't now we hear ?
Cupid and my Campaspe play'd
FRON MOTHER BOMBIE.
O Cupid, monarch over kings,
FROM ALEXANDER AND CAMPASPE.
What bird so sings, yet so does wail ?
(Born, 1560 ? Died, 1609?)
Was the second son of Patrick, fifth Baron of pitch, and when a reformation, fostered by the Polwarth, from whom the family of Marchmont poetry of Lyndsay, and by the learning of Buare descended. He was born probably about the chanan, had begun to grow hostile to elegant middle, and died about the end, of the sixteenth literature. Though the drama, rude as it was, century. During four years of the earlier part had been no mean engine in the hands of Lyndsay of his life, he resided in France, after which he against popery, yet the Scottish reformers of this returned home and studied law, but abandoned
latter period even anticipated the zeal of the the bar to try his fortune at court. There he is English puritans against dramatic and romantic said to have been disgusted with the preference poetry, which they regarded as emanations from shown to a poetical rival, Montgomery, with whom
hell. Hume had imbibed so far the spirit of his he exchanged flytings, (or invectives,) in verse,
times as to publish an exhortation to the youth and who boasts of having “ driven Polwart from
of Scotland to forego the admiration of all clasthe chimney nook." He then went into the
sical heroes, and to read no other books on the church, and was appointed rector or minister of subject of love than the Song of Solomon. But Logie ; the names of ecclesiastical offices in
Calvinism* itself could not entirely eradicate the Scotland then floating between presbytery and prelacy. In the clerical profession he continued * This once gloomy influence of Calvinism on the lite
rary character of the Scottish churchmen, forms & contill his death. Hume lived at a period when the
trast with more recent times, that needs scarcely to be spirit of Calvinism in Scotland was at its gloomiest suggested to those acquainted with Scotland. In extend