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“O see, Constantia ! my short race is run ;

THE TRAGICAL HISTORY OF See how my blood the thirsty ground doth dye;

But live thou happier than thy love bath done,
And when I'm dead, think sometime upon me!

More my sbort time permits me not to tell,
For now Death seizeth me; my dear, fare-


As soon as he had spoke these words, life filed
From his pierc'd body, whilst Constantia, she

Kisses his cheeks, that lose their lively red,
And become pale and wan; and now each eye,

SIR, Which was so bright, 'is like, when life was My childish Muse is in her spring, and yet done,

Can only show some budding of her wit. A star that's fall'n, or an eclipsed sun.

One frown upon her work, learn'd sir, from you, Thither Philocrates was driven by Fate,

Like some unkinder storm shot from your brow, And saw his friend lie bleeding on the earth;

Would turn her spring to withering antuma's time, Near his pale corpse his weeping sister sate, And make her blossoms perish ere their prime. Her eyes shed tears, her heart to sighs gave But if you smile, if in your gracious eye birth,

She an auspicious alpha can descry, Philocrates, when he saw this, did cry,

How soon will they grow fruit ! how fresh appear! “ Friend, I'll revenge, or bear thee company!

That had such beams their infancy to chear! " Just Jove hath sent me to revenge his fate;

Which being sprung to ripeness, expect then

The earliest offering of her grateful pen. Nay, stay, Guisardo, think not Heaven in jest :

Your most dutiful scholar, "Tiś vain to hope flight can secure thy state.” Then thrust his sword into the villain's breast.

ABR, COWLEY. “ Here,” said Philocrates, “ thy life I send

A sacrifice, t appease my slaughter'd friend.
But, as he fell, “ Take this reward,” said he,

“ For thy new victory.” With that he flung When Babylon's high walls erected were
His darted rapier at his enemy,
Which hit his head, and in his brain-pan hung.

By mighty Ninus' wife, two houses join'd :
With that he falls, but, lifting up his eyes,

One Thisbe liv'd in, Pyramus the fair

In the other : Earth ne'er boasted such a pair! Farewell, Constantia !” that word said, he dies.

The very senseless walls themselves combin'd,

And grew in one, just like their master's ininda What shall she do ? She to her brother runs,

Thisbe all other women did excel,
His cold and lifeless body does embrace;
She calls to him that cannot hear her moans,

The queen of love less lovely was than she:
And with her kisses warms his claimy face.

And Pyramus more sweet than tongue can tell “ My dear Philocrates !” she, weeping, cries,

Nature grew proud in framing them so well. "Speak to thy sister !” but no voice replies.

But Venus, envying they so fair should be,

Bids her son Cupid show his cruelty.
Then running to her love, with many a tear,
Thus her mind's fervent passion she exprest;

The all-subduing god his bow doth bend, “O stay, blest soul, stay but a little here,

Whets and prepares his most remorseless dart, And take me with you to a lasting rest.

Which he unseen unto their hearts did send, Then to Elysium's inansions both shall fly,

And so was Love the cause of Beauty's end Be married there, and never more to die."

But could he sec, he had not wrought thcir smarts

For pity sure would have o'ercome his heart. Büt, seeing them both dead, she cry'd, “ Ah me! Ah, my Philetus ! fur thy sake will i

Like as a bird, which in a net is ta’en, Make up a full and perfect tragedy :

By struggling more entangles in the gin; Since' 'twas for me, dear love, that thou didst So they, who in Love's labyrinth remain, die,

With striving never can a freedom gain. I'll follow thee, and not thy loss deplore;

The way to enter's broad; but, being in, These eyes, that saw thee kill'd, shall see no

No art, no labour can an exit win.

These lovers, though their parents did reprove “ It shall not sure be said that thou didst die,

Their fires, and watched their deeds with jealousy And thy Constantia live when thou wast slain:

Though in these storms no comfort could remove No, no, dear soul! I will not stay from thee;

The various doubts and fears that cool hot love; That will reflect upon my valued fame.”

Though he nor her's, nor she his face could see, Then piercing her sad breast, “ I come !" she

Yet this could not abolish Love's decree; cries,

For age had crack'd the wall which did them part; And Death for ever clos'd her weeping eyes. This the unanimous couple soon did spy, Her soul being fled to its eternal rest,

And here their inward sorrows did impart, Her father comes, and, seeing this, he falls

Unlading the sad burthen of their heart, To th' earth, with grief too great to be exprest :

Though Love be blind, this shows he can descry Whose doleful words my tired Muse me calls

A way to lessen his own misery.
To o erpass; which I most gladly do, for fear Oft to the friendly cranny they resort,
That I sbould toil too much the reader's ear. And feed themselves with the celestial air


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Of odoriferous breath ; no other sport

So she, who fetcheth lustre from their sight, They could enjoy ; yet think the time but short, Doth purpose to destroy their glorious liglit. And wish that it again renewed were,

Unto the mulberry-tree fairThisbe came; To suck each other's breath for ever there.

Where having rested long, at last she 'gan Sometimes they did exclaim against their fate, Against her Pyramus for to exclaim, And sometimes they accus'd imperial Jove; Whilst various thoughts turmoil her troubled braid: Sometimes repent their flames; but all too late; And, imitating thus the silver swan, The arrow could not be recall'd: their state

A little while before her death, she sang :
* Was first ordain'd by Jupiter above,
And Cupid had appointed they should love.

They curst the wall that did their kisses part,
And to the stones their mournful words they sent,
As if they saw the sorrow of their heart,

Come, love! why stayest thou? the night And by their tears could understand their smárt: Will vanish ere we taste delight:

But it was hard and knew not what they meant, The Moon obscures herself from sight,
Nor with their sighs, alas! would it relent.

Thou absent, whose eyes give her light.
This in effect they said ; “Curs'd Wall! O Why Corne quickly, dear! be brief as Time,
Wilt thou our bodies sever, whose trtie love

Or we by Morn shall be o’erta'en ; Breaks thorough all thy flity cruelty!

Love's joy's thine own as well as mine; For both our souls so closely joined lie,

Spend not therefore the time in vain. That nought but angry Death can them remove;

HERE doubtful thoughts broke off her pleasant And though he part them, yet they'll meet

song, above."

And for her lover's stay sent many a sigh;

Her Pyramus, she thought, did tarry long, Abortive tears from their fair eyes out-flow'd,

And that his absence did her too much wrong. And damm'd the lovely splendour of their sight,

Then, betwixt longing hope and jealousy, Which seem'd like Titan,whilst some watery cloud

She fears, yet's loth to tax, his loyalty. O'erspreads his face, and his bright beams doth shroud;

Sometimes she thinks that he hath her forsaken; Till Vesper chas'd away the conquer'd light, Sometimes, that danger hath befallen him : And forced them (though loth, to bid good- | She fears that he another love hath taken; night.

Which, being but imagin'd, soon doth waken

Numberless thoughts, which on ker heart did But ere Aurora, usher to the day,

Fears, that her future fate too truly sing. Began with welcorne lustre to appear,

[fling The lovers rise, and at that cranny they

While she thus musing sat, ran from the wood. Thus to each other their thoughts open lay,

An angry lion to the crystal sprinys, With many a sigh and many a speaking teai ;

Near to that place; who coming from his food, Whose grief the pitying Morning blusht to hear. His chaps were all besmear'd with crimson blood : “ Dear love!” said Pyramus, “how long shall we,

Swifter than thought, sweet 'Thisbe stra't begins Like fairest flowers not gather'd in their prime,

To fly froin him; fear gave her swallows' wings.
Waste precious youth, and let advantage fice, As she avoids the lion, ber desire
Till we bewail (at last) our cruelty

Bids her to stay, lest Pyramus should come,
Upon ourselves ? for beauty, though it shine And be devour'd by the stern lion's ire,
Like day, will quickly find an evening-time. So she for ever burn in unquench'd fire :

But fear expels all reasons; she doth run « Therefore, sweet Thisbe, let us meet this night

Into a darksome cave, ne'er scen by sun.
At Ninus' tomb, without the city wall,
l'nder the mulberry-tree, with berries white With haste she let her looser mantle fall :
Abounding, there t enjoy our wish'd delight. Khich, when th' enraged lion did espy,

For mounting love, stopt in its course, doth fall, With bloody teeth he tore in pieces small;
And long'd-for, yet untasted, joy kills all. While Thisbe ran, and louk'd not back at all;

For, could the senseless beast her face destry, “ What though our cruel parents angry be?

It had not done her such an injury.
What though our friends, alas ! are too unkind,
Time, that now offers, quickly may deny,

The night half wasted, Pyramus did come;
And soon hold back fit opportunity.

Who, seeing printed in the yielding sand
Who lets slip Fortune, her shall never find; The lion's paw, and by the founta'n some
Occasion, once pass'd by, is bald behind." Of Thisbe's garment, sorrow struck bim dumb;

Just like a marble statue did he stand,
She soon agreed to that wbich he requir'd,
For little wooing needs, where both consent;

Cut by some skilful graver's artful hand What he so long had pleaded, she desir'd : Recovering breath, at Fate he did exclaim, Which Venus seeing, with blind Chance conspird, Washing with tears the torn and bloody weed :

And many a charining accent to her sent, “ Imay," said he,“ myself for her death blame;

That she (at last) would frustrate their intent. Therefore my blood shall wash away that shame : Thus Beauty is by Beauty's means undone,

Since she is dead, whose beauty doth exceed

All that frail man can either hear or read." Striving to close those eyes that make her bright; Just like the Moon, which seeks t' eclipse the Sun, This spoke, he drew his fatal sword, and said, Whence all ber splendor, all her beams, do come: “ Receive my criuasun blouu, as a due debt

Unto thy constant love, to which 'tis paid :

And on his love he rais'd his dying head: I strait will meet thee in the pleasant shade Where, striving long for breath, at last, said he, Of cool Elysium ; where we, being met,

“ O Thisbe, I am hasting to the dead, Shall taste those joys that here we could not get." And cannot heal that wound my fear hath bred : Then through his breast thrusting his sword, life hies

Farewell, sweet Thisbe! we must parted be, From him, and he makes haste to seek his fair : For angry Death will force me soon from thee.” And as upon the colour'd ground he lies,

Life did from him, he from his mistress, part, His blood had dropt upon the mulberries;

Leaving his love to languish here in woe. With which th’unspotted berries stained were, What shall she do? How shall she ease her heart?

And ever since with red they colour'd are. Or with what language speak her inward smart? At last fair Thisbe left the den, for fear

Usurping passion reason doth o'erflow, Of disappointing Pyramus, since she

She vows that with her Pyramus she'll go : Was bound by promise for to meet him there : Then takes the sword wherewith her love was slain, But when she saw the berries changed were

With Pyramus's crimson blood warm still ; From white to black, she knew not certainly And said, “Oh stay, blest soul, awhile refrain,

It was the place where they agreed to be. That we inay go together, and remain With what delight from the dark cave she came,

In endless joys, and never fear the ill Thinking to tell how she escap'd the beast!

Of grudging friends !”—Then she herself did kill. But, when she saw her Pyramus lie slain,

To tell what grief their parents did sustain, Ah! how perplex'd did her sad soul remain ! Were more than my rude quill can overcoine ;

She tears her golden hair, and beats her breast, Much did they weep and grieve, but all in vain, And every sign of raging grief exprest.

For weeping calls not back the dead again. She blames all-powerful Jove ; and strives to take Both in one grave were laid, when life was dona; His bleeding body from the moisten'd ground.

And these few words were writ upon the tomb:
She kisses his pale face, till she doth make
It red with kissing, and then seeks to wake

His parting soul with mournful words; his wound | UNDERSEATH this marble stone,
Washes with tears, that her sweet speech con-

Lie two beauties join'd in one.

Two, whose loves deaths could not sever; But afterwards, recovering breath, said she,

For both liv'd, both dy'd together. “ Alas! what chance hath parted thee and I?

Two, whose souls, being too divine
O tell what evil hath befall'n to thee,
That of thy death I may a partner be:

For earth, in their own sphere now shine.
Tell Thisbe what hath caus'd this tragedy !" Who have left their loves to fame,
He, hearing Thisbe's name, lifts up his eye ;

And their earth to earth again.

S Y L V A:




DE FELICI PARTU REGINÆ MARIÆ.? A te sic vinci magnus quàm gru-leat ille!

Vix hostes tanti vel superá sse fuit.

, Et populum pascit religiosa fames,

Jam tua plus vivit pictura ; at proxima fiet Quinta beat nostram soboles formosa Mariam :

Regis, et in methodo te peperisse juvat. Pere iterum nobis, læte December, ades.

O bona conjugii concors discordia vestri !
Ite, quibus lusum Bacchusque Ceresque ministrant, Non Caroli puro respirans vultus in auro

O sancta hæc inter jurgia vetus amor!
Et risum vitis lacryma rubra movet.
Nos sine lætitiæ strepitu, sine murmurc læti :

Tam populo (et notum est quàm placet ille) Ipsa dies novit vix sibi verba dari.

placet. Cum corda arcana saltant festiva choreå,

Da veniam, hic omnes nimium quòd simus avari ; Cur pede vel tellus trita frequente sonet ?

Da veniam, hîc animos qudd satiare nequis. Quidve bibat Regi, quam perdit turba, salutem ?

Cúmque (sed ô nostris fiat lux serior annis) Sint mea pro tanto sobria vota viro.

In currum ascendas læta per astra tuum,

Natorum in facie tua viva et mollis imago
Crede mihi, non sunt, non sunt ea gaudia vera,
Quæ fiunt pompå gaudia vera suâ.

Non minus in terris, quàm tua sculpta, regat. VICIsti tandem, vicisti, casta Maria;

ABRAHAMUS COWLEY, T[rin). Coll]: Cedit de sexu Carolus ipse suo.

7 From the EYNLAIA, sive Musarum Cantabrigiensium Consentus et Congratulatio, ad serenigsimum Britanniarum Regem Carolum, de quinta sua sobole (Princess Anne), clarissima Principe, sibi nuper felicissimmè nata. Cantabrigiæ, 1637. I doubt not but it will prove a pleasing amusement to the curious reader, to trace the first dawnings of genins in some of our first-rate poetic characters; and to compare them with the eminence they afterwards attained to, and the rank they at last held among their brethren of the laurel. Some early specimens of Dryden's genius may be seen in the first volume of his poems. Those of Cowley, here printed, abound with strokes of wit, some true, but the far greater part false ; which thoroughly characterise the writer, and may be justly pronounced to point out his genius and manner, in miniature. K.—This species of entertaininent the kind attention of Mr. Kynaston (the friend to whom I owe these remarks) enables me considerably to extend, by furnishing the earliest poetical productions of some writers who are now universally looked up to as excellent ; none of which are to be found in any edition of their respective works. In such juvenile performances, it is well observed by an admirable critic, “the absurd conceits and extravagant fancies are the true seeds and germis, which afterwards ripen, by proper culture, into the most luxuriant harvests." See Anoual Register, 1779, p. 180. J.

IN FELICISSIMAM REGINÆ MARIÆ, | Leave off then, London, to accuse the starres

For adding a worse terrour to the warres ;

Nor quarrel with the Heavens, 'cause they beginne Natura facies renovatur quolibet anno,

To send the worst effect and scorge of sinne, Et sese mirùm fertilis ipsa parit.

That dreadfull plague, which wheresoe're't abide, Sic quoque Naturæ exemplar Regina, decusque, Devours both man and each disease beside. In fætu toties se videt ipsa novam,

For every life which from great Charles does flow, Penè omnem signas tam sæpè puerpera mensem, And 's female self, weighs down a crowd of low Et cupit à partu nomen habere tuo.

And vulgar souls : Fate rids of them the Earth, Quæque tuos toties audit Lucina labores,

To make more room for a great prince's birth. Vix ipsa in proprio sæpiùs Orbe tumet. So when the Sunne, after his watrie rest, Fæcundam semper spectabis Jane, Mariam, Comes dancing from his chamber of the east, Sive hâc sive illâ fronte videre voles.

A thousand pettie lamps, spread ore the skie, Discite, subjecti, officium : Regina Marito Shrink in their doubtfull beams, then wink, and die: Annua jam toties ipsa tributa dedit.

Yet no man grieves ; the very birds arise, Dum redit à sanctis non fessus Carolus aris,

And sing glad notes in stead of elegies : Principis occurit nuntia fama novi.

The leaves and painted flowers, which did ercwhile Non mirum, existat cùm proximus ipse Tonanti,

Tremble with mournfull drops, beginne to smile, Vicinum attingunt quòd citò vota Deum.

The losse of many why should they bemone, Non mirum, cùm sit tam sanctâ mente precatus,

Who for them more than many have in one ? Quad precibus merces tam properata venit.

How blest must thou thy self, bright Mary, be, Factura ô longùm nobis jejunia festum !

Who by thy wombe can'st blesse our miserie? O magnas epulas exhibitura fames !

May 't still be fruitful! May your offspring too En fundunt gemitum et lacrymarum flumina; tur- Spread largely, as your fame and virtues do ! Cum Reginâ ipsam parturissse putes. [bam

Fill every season thus: Time, which devours Credibile est puerum populi sensisse dolores;

It's own sonnes, will be glad and proud of yours. Edidit hinc mæstos Aebilis ipse sonos.

So will the year (though sure it weari'd be

With often revolutions) when 't shall see
A. Cowley, A. B. T[rin). C[oll.] The honour by such births it doth attain,

Joy to return into it self again.

A. Cowley, A. B. T[rin). Coll). UPON THE HAPPIE BIRTII OF THE

Whilst the rude North Charles his slow wrath

AN ELEGY doth call,

ON THE DEATH OP THE RIGHT HONOURABLE DUDLEY Whilst warre is fear'd, and conquest hop'd by all,

LORD CARLETON, VISCOUNT DORCHESTER, LATS The severall shires their various forces lend,

And some do men, some gallant horses send,
Some steel, and some (the stronger weapon) gold: Ty' infernal sisters did a council call
These warlike contributions are but old.

Of all the fiends, to the black Stygian hall;
That countrey learn'd a new and better way, The dire Tartarian monsters, hating light,
Which did this royall prince for tribute pay. Begot by dismal Erebus and Night,
Who shall henceforth be with such rage possest, Where'er dispers'd abroad, hearing the fame
To rouse our English lion from his rest?

Of their accursed meeting, thither came. When a new sonne doth his blest stock adorn, Revenge, whose greedy mind no blood can fill, Then to great Charles is a new armie born.

And Envy, never satisfy'd with ill:
In private births hopes challenge the first place: Thither blind Boldness, and impatient Rage,
There's certaintie at first in the king's race ; Resorted, with Death's neighbour, envious Age.
And we may say, Such will his glories bc,

These, to oppress the Earth, the Furies sent':
Such bis great acts, and, yet not prophesie. The council thus dissolv'd, an angry Fever,
I see in him his father's boundlesse sprite,

Whose quenchless thirst by blood was sated never, Powerfull as flame, yet gentle as the light.

Envying the riches, honour, greatness, love, I see him through an adverse battle thrust, And virtue (load-stone, that all these did move) Bedeck'd with noble sweat and comely dust. Of noble Carleton, him she took away, I see the pietie of the day appeare,

And, like a greedy vulture, seiz'd her prey. Joyn'd with the heate and valour of the yeare, Weep with me, each who either reads or bears, Which happie Fate did to this birth allow : And know his loss deserves his country's tears ! I see all this; for sure 'tis present now.

The Muses lost a patron by his fate,

Virtue a husband, and a prop the State. & From the Voces Votivæ ab Academicis Can- Sol's chorus weeps, and, to adorn his hearse, tabrigiensibus pro novissimo Caroli et Mariæ Prin- Calliope would sing a tragic verse. cipe Filio, emissæ. Cantabrigiæ, 1640.

And, had there been before no spring of theirs, Henry, wbo was declared by his father duke of They would have made a Helicon with tears. Gloucester in 1641, but not so created till May 13,

ABR. COWLEY. 1659. He died September 13, 1660.–The Verses are taken from the Voces Votivæ, &c. 1640. "Something is here wanting, as appears from J. N.

the want both of rhyme and connection. J. N.

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