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beauty of Hume's fancy, and left him still the summer's day, there is a train of images that high fountain of Hebrew poetry to refresh it. In seem peculiarly pleasing and unborrowed-the the following specimen of his poetry, describing pictures of a poetical mind, humble but genuine the successive appearances

es of nature during a in its cast.

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Upbraids i the careful husbandman,
His corn and vines to see,
And every timeous i artisan
In booths works busily.

Calm is the deep and purple sea,
Yea, smoother than the sand ;
The waves, that woltering" wont to be,
Are stable like the land.

So silent is the cessile air,
That every cry and call,
The hills and dales, and forest fair,
Again repeats them all.

The pastor quits the slothful sleep,
And passes forth with speed,
His little camow-nosed k sheep,

And rowting kyel to feed.
ing the classical fame, no less than in establishing the
moral reputation of their country, the Scottish clergy
have exerted a primary influence; and whatever Pres-
byterian eloquence might once be, the voice of enlight-
Ened principles and universal charity is nowhere to be
beard more distinctly than at the present hour from
their pulpits. & For shaded. b Scottice for than.
• Then.
d Which.

e Largest and smallest. Abroad. & Emboldened.

b Shining.

i Uprises. 1 Early.

Flat-nosed. Lowing hine.

The clogged busy humming bees,
That never think to drown",
On flowers and flourishes of trees,
Collect their liquor brown.

m Fog.

P Arch, t Run.

n Pours off.

9 Streaks. u Tumbling

Dreat out. Stir.

• Cool. To drone, or to be idle.

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Now noon is gone-gone is midday,
The heat does slake at last,
The sun decends down west away,
For three o'clock is past.

All labourers draw hame at even,
And can to others say,
Thanks to the gracious God of Heaven,
Quhilk' sent this summer day.

*

i Smoke. j Thrush and nightingale. k Wood-pigeons. 1 A very expressive word for the note of the cushat, or wood-pigeon. m Evening.

1 Along o Places for confining fish, generally placed in the dam of a river.

p Baskets 9 Small boats or yawls.

Wells. & Throng.

t Who.

w Freshness. X Oxen. y Carpeted. z Beare, I suppose, means music. To beare, in old Scotch, is to recite. Wynton, in his Chronicle, says, “As I have heard men beare on hand." Allard or keen rays.

b Fire.

c Whinstone. d In old Scottish poetry little attention is paid to giving plural nouns a plural verb. e Cool. 1 Burning $ Oil.

b Beats.

THOMAS NASH.

(Born, 1560? Died about 1600-4.)

THOMAS Nash was born at Lowestoft in Suf Jupiter and Saturn. Drayton, in his Epistle of folk, was bred at Cambridge, and closed a cala Poets and Poesy, says of him— mitous life of authorship at the age, it is said,

Sharply satyric was he, and that way of forty-two. Dr. Beloe has given a list of his

He went, since that his being to this day, works, and Mr. Disraeli + an account of his Few have attempted, and I surely think, shifts and miseries. Adversity seems to have These words shall hardly be set down with ink, whetted his genius, as his most tolerable verses

Shall blast and scorch so as his could. are those which describe his own despair ; and

From the allusion which he makes in the followin the midst of his woes, he exposed to just de- ing quotation to Sir P. Sydney's compassion, rision the profound fooleries of the astrologer before the introduction of the following lines, it Harvey, who, in the year 1582, had thrown the whole kingdom into consternation by his predic- may be conjectured that he had experienced the

bounty of that noble character, tions of the probable effects of the junction of

DESPAIR OF A POOR SCHOLAR.

PROM PIERCE PENNILESS.

Forgive me, God, although I curse my birth,
And ban the air wherein I breathe a wretch,
Since misery hath daunted all my mirth,
And I am quite undone through promise breach ;
Ah friends -no friends that then ungentle frown,
When changing fortune casts us headlong down.

Why is't damnation to despair and die,
When life is my true happiness' disease ?
My soul, my soul, thy safety makes me fly
The faulty means that might my pain appease :
Divines and dying men may talk of hell,
But in my heart her several torments dwell.
Ah, worthless wit ! to train me to this woe :
Deceitful arts ! that nourish discontent :
Ill thrive the folly that bewitch'd me so !
Vain thoughts, adieu ! for now I will repent,-
And yet my wants persuade me to proceed,
For none take pity of a scholar's need.
* Anecdotes of Scarce Books. Calamities of Authors.

Without redress complains my careless verse,
And Midas' ears relent not at my moan ;
In some far land will I my griefs rehearse,
'Mongst them that will be moved when I shall

groan.
England, adieu ! the soil that brought me forth,
Adieu ! unkind, where skill is nothing worth.

EDWARD VERE, EARL OF OXFORD.

(Born, 1534. Died, 1604.)

Tuis nobleman sat as Great Chamberlain of able traits of his character are to be found in the
England upon the trial of Mary Queen of history of his lifeß.
Scots. In the year of the Armada, he distin taken, ordered him to leave the room, and, on his refusal,
guished his public spirit by fitting out some ships

gave him the epithet of a puppy. Sir Philip retorted the

lie on his lordship, and left the place, expecting to be at his private cost. He had travelled in Italy in

followed by the peer. But Lord Oxford neither followed his youth, and is said to have returned the most

him nor noticed his quarrel, till her majesty's council accomplished coxcomb of his age. The story of

had time to command the peace. The queen interfered, his quarrel with Sir Philip Sydney, as it is re

reminding Sir Philip of the difference between "earls

and gentlemen," and of the respect which inferiors lated by Collins, gives us a most unfavourable idea

owell their superiors. Sydney, boldly but respectfully, of his manners and temper, and shows to what a stated to her majesty, that rank among freemen could height the claims of aristocratical privilege were

claim no other homage than precedency, and did not

obey her commands to make submission to Oxford. For at that time carried. Some still more discredit

a fuller statement of this anecdote, vide the quotation The Earl of Oxford being one day in the tennis-court

from Collins, in the British Bibliographer, vol i. p. 83. with Sir Philip Sydney, on some offence which he had $ By Mr. Park, in the Cat. of Royal and Noble Authors,

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FROM THE PARADISE OF DAINTY DEVICES.

IN A MS. OF THE BODLEIAN LIBRARY.

Doth either Time or Age bring him into decay ? FANCY AND DESIRE.

No, no, Desire both lives and dies a thousand

times a day. Then, fond Desire, farewell ! thou art no mate

for me : WHEN wert thou born, Desire? In pride and I should, methinks, be loth to dwell with such a pomp of May.

one as thee. By whom, sweet boy, wert thou begot? By fond

conceit, men say. Tell me who was thy nurse? Fresh Youth, in LINES ATTRIBUTED TO THE EARL OF sugar'd joy.

OXFORD. What was thy meat and daily food ? Sad sighs with great annoy.

If women could be fair, and yet not fond,

Or that their love were firm, not fickle still, What hadst thou then to drink? Unsavoury

I would not marvel that they make me bond, lovers' tears.

By service long, to purchase their good-will; What cradle wert thou rock'd in? In hope de

But when I see how frail those creatures are, void of fears.

I muse that men forget themselves so far. What lull’d thee, then, asleep? Sweet sleep, which likes me best.

To mark the choice they make and how they change, Tell me where is thy dwelling-place ? In gentle How oft from Phoebus they do flee to Pan ; hearts I rest.

Unsettled still, like haggards wild they range,

These gentle birds that fly from man to man; What thing doth please thee most ? To gaze on Who would not scorn and shake them from the fist, beauty still.

And let them fly, fair fools, where'er they list! What dost thou think to be thy foe? Disdain of my good-will.

Yet, for disport, we fawn and flatter both, Doth company displease? Yes, surely, many

To pass the time when nothing else can please,

And train them to our lure with subtil oath, Where doth Desire delight to live ? He loves to Till, weary of their wiles, ourselves we ease ; live alone.

And then we say, when we their fancy try,
To play with fools, oh, what a fool was I !

one.

THOMAS STORER.

(Died, 1604.)

The date of this writer's birth can only be and that he died in the metropolis. Besides the generally conjectured from his having been elected History of Cardinal Wolsey in three parts, viz. a Student of Christ Church, Oxford, in 1587. his aspiring, his triumph, and death, he wrote The slight notice of him by Wood only mentions several pastoral pieces in England's Helicon. that he was the son of John Storer, a Londoner,

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A more than heavenly nymph I did behold,

Who glancing on me with her gracious eye, WOLSEY'S VISION.

So gave me leave her beauty to espy ;

For sure no sense such sight can comprehend, From that rich valley, where the angels laid him, Except her beams their fair reflection lend. His unknown sepulchre in Moab's land, Moses, that Israel led, and they obey'd him, Her beauty with Eternity began, In glorious view before my face did stand, And only unto God was ever seen, Bearing the folded tables in his hand,

When Eden was possess’d with sinful man, Wherein the doom of life, and death's despair, She came to him and gladly would have been By God's own finger was engraven there. The long succeeding world's eternal Queen ;

But they refused her, 0 heinous deed ! Then passing forth a joyful troop ensued

And from that garden banish'd was their seed. Of worthy judges and triumphant kings,

Since when, at sundry times in sundry ways, After several personages of sacred history, some alle- Atheism and blended Ignorance conspire, gorical ones condescend to visit the sleeping Cardinal, How to obscure those holy burning rays, amung whom Theology naturally has a place, and is

And quench that zeal of heart-inflaming fire thus described

That makes our souls to heavenly things aspire ; In chariot framed of celestial mould,

But all in vain, for, maugre all their might, And simple pureness of the purest sky,

She never lost one sparkle of her light.

*

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Bishop Hall, who for his ethical eloquence tical manner and an antique allusion, which cast has been sometimes denominated the Christian obscurity over his otherwise spirited and amusing Seneca, was also the first who gave our language traits of English manners; though the satirist an example of epistolary composition in prose. himself was so far from anticipating this objection, He wrote besides a satirical fiction, entitled that he formally apologises for “ too much stoopMundus aller et idem, in which, under pretence ing to the low reach of the vulgar.But in many of describing the Terra Australis Incognita, he instances he redeems the antiquity of his allusions reversed the plan of Sir Thomas More's Utopia, by their ingenious adaptation to modern manners; and characterized the vices of existing nations. and this is but a small part of his praise ; for in Of our satirical poetry, taking satire in its moral the point, and volubility, and vigour of Hall's and dignified sense, he claims, and may be al- numbers, we might frequently imagine ourselves lowed, to be the founder : for the ribaldry of perusing Dryden I. This may be exemplified in Skelton, and the crude essays of the graver

the harmony and picturesqueness of the following Wyat, hardly entitle them to that appellation*. description of a magnificent rural mansion, which Though he lived till beyond the middle of the the traveller approaches in the hopes of reaching seventeenth century, his satires were written the seat of ancient hospitality, but finds it deserted before, and his Mundus alter et idem about, the by its selfish owner. year 1600 : so that his antiquity, no less than Beat the broad gates, a goodly hollow sound, his strength, gives him an important place in the With double echoes, doth again rebound; formation of our literaturet.

The satire which I think contains the most vigorous In his Satires, which were published at the

and musical couplets of this old poet, is the first of Book age of twenty-three, he discovered not only the 3rd, beginning, early vigour of his own genius, but the powers Time was, and that was term'd the time of gold, and pliability of his native tongue. Unfortu- When world and time were young, that now are old. nately, perhaps unconsciously, he caught, from I preferred, however, the insertion of others as examples studying Juvenaland Persius as his models, an ellip- of his poetry, as they are more descriptive of English

manners than the fanciful praises of the golden age (* Donne appears to have been the first in order of com- which that satire contains. It is flowing and fanciful, position--though Hall and Marston made their appear- but conveys only the insipid moral of men decaying by ance in print before him.)

the progress of civilisation ; a doctrine not unlike that + His name is therefore placed in these Specimens with which Gulliver found in the book of the old woman of a variation from the general order, not according to tho

Brobdignag, whose author lamented the tiny size of the date of his death, but about the time of his appearance

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modern Brobdignagdians compared with that of their as a poet

ancestors.

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