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Much less could'st have it from the purer fire ; The plot is complicated and obscure, and the charac-
Our heat exhales no vapour from coarse sense, ters are deficient in individuality. It must be read,
Such as are hopes, or fears, or fond desire :

like the Faery Queen, for its romantic descriptions, Our mutual love itself did recompense.

and its occasional felicity of language. The versiThou hast no correspondence had in heaven,

fication is that of the heroic couplet, varied, like And th' elemental world, thou see'st, is free.

Milton's Lycidas, by breaks and pauses in the middle
Whence hadst thou, then, this, talking monster I even of the line.
From hell, a harbour fit for it and thee.
Curst be th' officious tongue that did address
Thee to her ears, to ruin my content:

[The Witch's Cave.]
May it one minute taste such happiness,
Deserving lost unpitied it lament i

Her cell was hewn out of the marble rock,
I must forbcar her sight, and so repay

By more than human art; she need not knock ;
In grief, those hours' joy short'ned to a dream; The door stood always open, large and wide,
Each minute I will lengthen to a day,

Grown o'er with woolly moss on either side,
And in one year outlive Methusalem.

And interwove with ivy's flattering twines,

Through which the carbuncle and diamond shines,

Not set by Art, but there by Nature sown
A pastoral romance, entitled Thealma and Clear. They serv'd instead of tapers, to give light

At the world's birth, so star-like bright they shone.
chus, was published by Izaak Walton in 1683, with To the dark entry, where perpetual night,
a title-page stating it to have been written long Friend to black deeds, and sire of ignorance,
since by John CHALKHILL, Esq., an acquaintant Shuts out all knowledge, lest her eye by chance
and friend of Edmund Spenser.'. Walton tells us of Might bring to light her follies : in they went,
the author, that he was in his time a man generally The ground was strew'd with flowers, whose sweet scent,
known, and as well beloved; for he was humble and Mix'd with the choice perfumes from India brought,
obliging in his behaviour ; a gentleman, a scholar, Intoxicates his brain, and quickly caught
very innocent and prudent; and, indeed, his whole His credulous sense ; the walls were gilt, and set
life was useful, quiet, and virtuous.' Thealma and With precious stones, and all the roof was fret
Clearchus' was reprinted by Mr Singer, who ex. With a gold vine, whose straggling branches spread
pressed an opinion that, as Walton had been silent All o'er the arch; the swelling grapes were red;
upon the life of Chalkhill, he might be altogether a This, Art had made of rubies, clusterd so,
fictitious personage, and the poem be actually the To the quick’st eye they more than seem'd to grow ;
composition of Walton himself. A critic in the About the walls lascivious pictures hung,
Retrospective Review,* after investigating the cir- Such as were of loose Ovid sometimes sung.
cumstances, and comparing the Thealma with the On either side a crew of dwarfish elves
acknowledged productions of Walton, comes to the Held waxen tapers, taller than themselves :
same conclusion. Sir John Hawkins, the editor of Yet so well-shap'd unto their little stature,
Walton, seeks to overturn the hypothesis of Singer, So angel-like in face, so sweet in feature ;
by the following statement :-Unfortunately, John Their rich attire so difforing ; yet so well
Chalkhill's tomb of black marble is still to be seen Becoming her that wore it, none could tell
on the walls of Winchester cathedral, by which it Which was the fairest, which the handsomest deck's,
appears he died in May 1679, at the age of eighty. Or which of them desire would soon'st affect.
Walton's preface speaks of him as dead in May After a low salute, they all 'gan sing,
1678; but as the book was not published till 1683, And circle in the stranger in a ring.
when Walton was ninety years old, it is probably an Orandra to her charms was stepp'd aside,
error of memory.' The tomb in Winchester cannot Leaving her guest half won and wanton-ey'd.
be that of the author of Thealma, unless Walton He had forgot his herb: cunning delight
committed a further error in styling Chalkhill an Had so bewitch'd his ears, and blear'd his sight,

acquaintant and friend' of Spenser. Spenser died and captivated all his senses so,
in 1599, the very year in which John Chalkhill

, in- That he was not himself: nor did he know
terred in Winchester cathedral, must have been born. What place he was in, or how he came there,
We should be happy to think that the Thealma was But greedily he feeds his eye and ear
the composition of Walton, thus adding another With what would ruin him.
laurel to his venerable brow; but the internal evi-
dence seems to us to be wholly against such a sup-

Next unto his view
position. The poetry is of a cast far too high for She represents a banquet, usher'd in
the muse of Izaak, which dwelt only by the side of By such a shape, as she was sure would win
trouting streams, and among quiet meadows. The His appetite to taste ; so like she was
romme de guerre of Chalkhill must also have been an To his Clarinda, both in shape and face.
old one with Walton, if he wrote Thealma; for, thirty So voic'd, so habited, of the same gait
years before its publication, he had inserted in his And comely gesture ; on her brow in state
Complete Angler' two songs, signed Jo. Chalkhill." Sat such a princely majesty, as he
The disguise is altogether very unlike Izaak Walton, Had noted in Clarinda ; save that she
then ninety years of age, and remarkable for his un-

Had a more wanton eye, that here and there
assuming worth, probity, and piety. We have no Roll’d up and down, not settling any where.
doubt, therefore, that Thealma is a genuine poem of Down on the ground she

falls his hands to kiss,
the days of Charles or James I. The scene of this And with her tears bedews it; cold as ice
pastoral is laid in Arcadia, and the author, like the He felt her lips, that yet inflam'd him so,
ancient poets, describes the golden age and all its That he was all on fire the truth to know,

Whether she was the same she did appear,
charms, which were succeeded by an age of iron, on
the introduction of ambition, avarice, and tyranny. Fashion'd in his imagination

Or whether some fantastic form it were,
* Retrospective Review, vol. iv., page 230. The article ap- By his still working thoughts ; so fix'd upon
pears to have been written by Sir Egerton Brydges, who con-

His lov'd Clarinda, that his fancy strove,
tributed largely to that work.

Even with her shadow, to express his love.

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ing his education at Oxford, Cartwright entered [The Priestess of Diana.]

into holy orders. He was a zealous royalist, and Within a little silent grove hard by,

was imprisoned by the parliamentary forces when

they arrived in Oxford in 1642. In 1643, he was Upon a small ascent he might espy

chosen junior proctor of the university, and was also A stately chapel, richly gilt without, Beset with shady sycamores about:

reader in metaphysics. At this time, the poet is

said to have studied sixteen hours a day! Towards And ever and anon he might well hear A sound of music steal in at his ear

the close of the same year, Cartwright caught As the wind gave it being :-90 sweet an air

malignant fever, called the camp disease, then pre Would strike a syren mute.

valent at Oxford, and died December 23, 1643. The

king, who was then at Oxford, went into mourning A hundred virgins there he might espy

for Cartwright's death ; and when his works were Prostrate before a marble deity,

published in 1651, no less than fifty copies of enWhich, by its portraiture, appear'd to be

comiastic verses were prefixed to them by the wits The image of Diana :-on their knee

and scholars of the time. It is difficult to conceive, They tender'd their devotions: with sweet airs, from the perusal of Cartwright's poems, why he Offring the incense of their praise and prayers.

should have obtained such extraordinary applause Their garments all alike; beneath their paps and reputation. His pieces are mostly short, occaBuckled together with a silver claps;

sional productions, addresses to ladies and noblemen, And cross their snowy silken robes, they wore or to his brother poets, Fletcher and Jonson, or An azure scarf, with stars embroider'd o'er.

slight amatory effusions not distinguished for eleTheir hair in curious tresses was knit up,

gance or fancy. His youthful virtues, his learning, Crown'd with a silver crescent on the top.

loyalty, and admiration of genius, seem to have A silver bow their left hand held ; their right, mainly contributed to his popularity, and his premaFor their defence, held a sharp-headed flight, ture death would renew and deepen the impression Drawn from their 'broider'd quiver, neatly tied of his worth and talents. Cartwright must have In silken cords, and fasten'd to their side.

cultivated poetry in his youth: he was only twentyUnder their vestments, something short before, six when Ben Jonson died, and the compliment White buskins, lac'd with ribanding, they wore. quoted above seems to prove that he had then It was a catching sight for a young eye,

been busy with his pen. He mourned the loss of That love had fir'd before :-he might espy

his poetical father in one of his best effusions, in One, whom the rest had sphere-like circled round, which he thus eulogises Jonson's dramatic powers :Whose head was with a golden chaplet crown'd. He could not see her face, only his ear

But thou still puts true passion on ; dost write Was blest with the sweet words that came from her. With the same courage that tried captains fight;

Giv'st the right blush and colour unto things;

Low without creeping, high without loss of wings; (The Votaress of Diana.]

Smooth yet not weak, and, by a thorough care,

Big without swelling, without painting fair.
Clarinda came at last
With all her train, who, as along she pass'd
Thorough the inward court, did make a lane,

To a Lady Veiled.
Opening their ranks, and closing them again
As she went forward, with obsequious gesture, So Love appear'd, when, breaking out his way
Doing their reverence. Her upward vesture

From the dark chaos, he first shed the day;
Was of blue silk, glistering with stars of gold, Newly awak'd out of the bud, so shows
Girt to her waist by serpents, that enfold

The half seen, half hid glory of the rose,
And wrap themselves together, so well wrought

As you do through your veils; and I may swear, And fashion’d to the life, one would have thought Viewing you so, that beauty doth bide there. They had been real. Underneath she wore

So Truth lay under fables, that the eye A coat of silver tinsel, short before,

Might reverence the mystery, not descry; And fring'd about with gold : white buskins hide Light being so proportion'd, that no more The naked of her leg; they were loose tied

Was seen, but what might cause men to adore : With azure ribands, on whose knots were seen

Thus is your dress so order'd, so contrived, Most costly gems, fit only for a queen.

As 'tis but only poetry revived. Her hair bound up like to a coronet,

Such doubtful light had sacred groves, where rods With diamonds, rubies, and rich sapphires set;

And twigs at last did shoot up into gods ; And on the top a silver crescent plac'd.

Where, then, a shade darkeneth the beauteous face, And all the lustre by such beauty grac'd,

May I not pay a reverence to the place? As her reflection made them scein more fair ;

So, under water, glimmering stars appear, One would have thought Diana's self were there;

As those (but nearer stars) your eyes do here; For in her hand a silver bow she held,

So deities darkened sit, that we may find And at her back there hung a quiver fill'd

A better way to see them in our mind.
With turtle-feather'd arrows.

No bold Ixion, then, be here allow'd,
Where Juno dares herself be in the cloud.

Methinks the first age comes again, and we

See a retrieval of simplicity.

Thus looks the country virgin, whose brown hue WILLIAM CARTWRIGHT (1611-1643) was one of Hoods her, and makes her show even veil'd as you. Ben Jonson's adopted sons of the muses, and of his Blest mean, that checks our hope, and spurs our fear, works Jonson remarked—“My son Cartwright writes Whiles all doth not lie hid, nor all appear : all like a man.' Cartwright was a favourite with O fear ye no assaults from bolder men; his contemporaries, who loved him living, and when they assail, be this your armour then. deplored his early death. This poet was the son of A silken helmet may defend those parts, an innkeeper at Cirencester, who had squandered Where softer kisses are the only darts ! away a patrimonial estate. In 1638, after complet

Love Inconcealable.
Who can hide fire! If't be uncover'd, light;
If cover'd, smoke betrays it to the sight :
Love is that fire, which still some sign affords ;
If hid, they are sighs; if open, they are words.

To Cupid.

A Valediction.
Bid me not go where neither suns nor showers

Do make or cherish;
Where discontented things in sadness lie,

And nature grieves as I;
When I am parted from those eyes
From which my better day doth rise.

Though some propitious power
Should plant me in a bower,
Where, amongst happy lovers, I might see

How showers and sunbeams bring

One everlasting spring;
Nor would those fall, nor these shine forth to me.

Nature herself to him is lost,

Who loseth her he honours most.
Then, fairest, to my parting view display

Your graces all in one full day;
Whose blessed shapes I'll snatch and keep, till

I do return and view again :
So by this art, fancy shall fortune cross,
And lovers live by thinking on their loss.

Thou, who didst never see the light,
Nor know'st the pleasure of the sight,
But always blinded, canst not say,
Now it is night, or now 'tis day;
So captivate her sense, so blind her eye,
That still she love me, yet she ne'er know why,
Thou who dost wound us with such art,
We see no blood drop from the heart,
And, subt’ly cruel, leav'st no sign
To tell the blow or hand was thine;
O gently, gently wound my fair, that she
May thence believe the wound did come from

thee !


One of the most exquisite of our early lyrical poets was ROBERT HERRICK, born in Cheapside, London, in 1591. He studied at Cambridge, and having entered into holy orders, was presented by Charles I.,

To Chloe,
Who wished herself young enough for me.
Chloe, why wish you that your years

Would backwards run, till they met mine?
That perfect likeness, which endears

Things unto things, might us combine.
Our ages so in date agree,
That twins do differ more than we.
There are two births; the one when light

First strikes the new awakened sense ;
The other when two souls unite;

And we must count our life from thence :
When you lov'd me, and I lov'd you,
Then both of us were born anew.
Love then to us did new souls give,

And in those souls did plant new pow'rs:
Since when another life we live,

The breath we breathe is his, not ours ; Love makes those young whom age doth chill, And whom he finds young keeps young still. Love, like that angel that shall call

Our bodies from the silent grave,
Unto one age doth raise us all ;

None too much, none too little have;
Nay, that the difference may be none,
He makes two not alike, but one.
And now since you and I are such,

Tell me what's yours, and what is mine?
Our eyes, our ears, our taste, smell, touch,

Do, like our souls, in one combine ;
So, by this, I as well may be
Too old for you, as you for me.

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The Dream.

in 1629, to the vicarage of Dean Prior in Devonshire.

After about twenty years' residence in this rural I dream'd I saw myself lie dead,

parish, Herrick was ejected from his living by the And that my bed my coffin grew,

storms of the civil war, which, as Jeremy Taylor Silence and sleep this strange sight bred, says, “dashed the vessel of the church and state all/ But, waked, I found I liv'd anew.

in pieces.' Whatever regret the poet may have felt Looking next morn on your bright face,

on being turned adrift on the world, he could have Mine eyes bequeath'd mine heart fresh pain ; experienced little on parting with his parishioners, A dart rush'd in with every grace,

for he describes them in much the same way as And so I kill'd myself again :

Crabbe portrayed the natives of Suffolk, among O eyes, what shall distressed lovers do,

whom he was cast in early life, as a 'wild amphiIf open you can kill, if shut you view i

bious race,' rude. almost as salvages,' and churlish as the seas.' Herrick gives us a glimpse of his own Forgive me, God, and blot each line character

Out of my book that is not thine ;

But if, 'mongst all thou findest one
Born I was to meet with age,

Worthy thy benediction,
And to walk life's pilgrimage :

That one of all the rest shall be
Much, I know, of time is spent ;

The glory of my work and me.
Tell I can't what's resident.
Howsoever, cares adieu !

The poet should better have evinced the sincerity
I'll have nought to say to you;

and depth of his contrition, by blotting out the un. But I'll spend my coming hours

baptised rhymes himself, or not reprinting them; Drinking wine and crown's with flowers. but the vanity of the author probably triumphed

over the penitence of the Christian. Gaiety was the This light and genial temperament would enable the dess fair and free, that did not move happily in

natural element of Herrick. His muse was a godpoet to ride out the storm in composure. About the serious numbers. The time of the poet's death has time that he lost his vicarage, Herrick appears to not been ascertained, but he must have arrived at a have published his works. His Noble Numbers, or

ripe old age. Pious Pieces, are dated 1647 ; his Hesperides, or the

The poetical works of Herrick lay neglected for • Works both Humane and Divine of Robert Herrick, Esquire,' in 1648. The clerical prefix to his name many years after his death. They are now again in seems now to have been abandoned by the poet, have been set to music, and are sung and quoted by

esteem, especially his shorter lyrics, some of which and there are certainly many pieces in his second all lovers of song. His verses, Cherry Ripe, and volume which would not become one ministering at Gather the Rose-buds while ye may (though the sentithe altar, or belonging to the sacred profession, ment and many of the expressions of the latter are Herrick lived in Westminster, and was supported or assisted by the wealthy royalists. He associated taken from Spenser), possess a delicious mixture of with the jovial spirits of the age. He quaffed the playful fancy and natural feeling. Those To Blosmighty bowl with Ben Jonson, but could not, he soms, To Daffodils

, and To Primroses, have a tinge

of pathos that wins its way to the heart. They tells us, thrive in frenzy, like rare Ben, who seems abound, like all Herrick's poems, in lively imagery to have excelled all his fellow-compotators in sallies and conceits; but the pensive moral feeling predoof wild wit and high imaginations. The recollec- minates, and we feel that the poet's smiles might as tion of these brave translunary scenes of the well be tears. Shakspeare and Jonson had scattered poets inspired the muse of Herrick in the following such delicate fancies and snatches of lyrical melody strain :

among their plays and masques—Milton's Comus

and the Arcades had also been published-Carew Ah Ben!

and Suckling were before him—Herrick was, thereSay how or when

fore, not without models of the highest excellence in Shall we, thy guests,

this species of composition. There is, however, in Meet at those lyric feasts

his songs and anacreontics, an unforced gaiety and Made at the Sun,

natural tenderness, that show he wrote chiefly from The Dog, the Triple Tun ;

the impulses of his own cheerful and happy nature. Where we such clusters had

The select beauty and picturesqueness of Herrick's As made us nobly wild, not mad !

language, when he is in his happiest vein, is worthy And yet each verse of thine

of his fine conceptions ; and his versification is har. Outdid the meat, outdid the frolic wine.

mony itself. His verses bound and flow like some My Ben!

exquisite lively melody, that echoes nature, by wood Or come again,

and dell, and presents new beauties at every turn Or send to us

and winding. The strain is short, and sometimes Thy wit's great overplus,

fantastic; but the notes long linger in the mind, and But teach us yet

take their place for ever in the memory. One or Wisely to husband it;

two words, such as 'gather the rose-buds,' call up Lest we that talent spend ;

a summer landscape, with youth, beauty, flowers, And having once brought to an end

and music. This is, and ever must be, true poetry. That precious stock, the store Of such a wit, the world should have no more.

To Blossoms.

Fair pledges of a fruitful tree, After the Restoration, Herrick was replaced in his

Why do you fall so fast 1 Devonshire vicarage. How he was received by the

Your date not so past, rude salvages' of Dean Prior, or how he felt on

But you may stay yet here a while, quitting the gaieties of the metropolis, to resume his

To blush and gently smile, clerical duties and seclusion, is not recorded. He

And go at last. was now about seventy years of age, and was pro. bably tired of canary sack and tavern jollities. He

What I were ye born to be had an undoubted taste for the pleasures of a country

An hour or half's delight, life, if we may judge from his works, and the fond.

And so to bid good-night! ness with which he dwells on old English festivals

'Tis pity nature brought ye forth and rural customs. Though his rhymes were some

Merely to show your worth, times wild, he says his life was chaste, and he re

And lose you quite. pented of his errors :

But you are lovely leaves, where we

May read how soon things have
For these my unbaptised rhymes,

Their end, though ne'er so brave :
Writ in my wild unhallowed times,

And after they have shown their pride,
For every sentence, clause, and word,

Like you a while, they glide
That's not inlaid with thec, O Lord 1

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Into the grave.

To Daffodils.
Fair daffodils, we weep to see
You haste away so soon ;
As yet the early-rising sun
Has not attain'd his noon :

Stay, stay,
Until the hast’ning day

Has run
But to the even-song;
And having pray'd together, we

Will go with you along !
We bave short time to stay as you ;
We have as short a spring;
As quick a growth to meet decay,
As you or anything :

We die,
As your hours do ; and dry

Like to the summer's rain,
Or as the pearls of morning dew

Ne'er to be found again.

Twelfth Night, or King and Queen.
Now, now the mirth comes,

With the cake full of plums,
Where bean's the king of the sport here;

Beside, we must know,

The pea also
Must revel as qucen in the court here.

Begin then to choose,

This night, as ye use, Who shall for the present delight here ;

Be a king by the lot,

And who shall not Be Twelfth-day queen for the night here.

Which known, let us make

Joy-sops with the cake ;
And let not a man then scen here,

Who unurged will not drink,

To the base from the brink, A health to the king and the queen here.

Next crown the bowl full

With gentle lamb's-wool;2 Add sugar, nutmeg, and ginger,

With store of ale, too ;

And thus ye must do
To make the wassail a swinger.

Give them to the king

And queen wassailing;
And though with ale ye be wet here ;

Yet part ye from hence,

As free from offence,
As when ye innocent met here.

The Kissa Dialogue. 1. Among thy fancies tell me this:

What is the thing we call a kiss k 2. I shall resolve ye what it is :

It is a creature born, and bred
Between the lips, all cherry red ;
By love and warm desires fed ;

Chor.-And makes more soft the bridal bed : 2. It is an active flame, that flies

First to the babies of the eyes,
And charms them there with lullabies ;

Chor.–And stills the bride too when she cries : 2. Then to the chin, the cheek, the ear,

It frisks, and flies : now here, now there;
Tis now far off, and then 'tis near;

Chor.–And here, and there, and everywhere. 1. Has it a speaking virtue ?2. Yes. 1. How speaks it, say !—2. Do you but this, Part your join'd lips, then speaks your kiss ;

Chor.–And this love's sweetest language is. 1. Has it a body ?—2. Ay, and wings,

With thousand rare encolourings;
And as it flies, it gently sings,

Chor.-Love honey yields, but never stings.

The Country Life.
Sweet country life, to such unknown,
Whose lives are others', not their own !
But, serving courts and cities, be
Less happy, less enjoying thee.

Thou never plough'd the ocean's foam,
To seek and bring rough pepper home ;
Nor to the eastern Ind dost rove,
To bring from thence the scorched clove ;
Nor, with the loss of thy lov'd rest,
Bring'st home the ingot from the west.
No; thy ambition's master-piece
Flies no thought higher than a fleece ;
Or how to pay thy hinds,3 and clear
All scores, and so to end the year ;
But walk'st about thy own dear grounds,
Not craving others' larger bounds ;
For well thou know'st 'tis not th' extent
Of land makes life, but sweet content.
When now the cock, the ploughman's horn,
Calls for the lily-wristed morn,
Then to thy corn-fields thou dost go,
Which, though well soil'd, yet thou dost know
That the best compost for the lands
Is the wise master's feet and hands.
There, at the plough, thou find'st thy team,
With a hind whistling there to them ;
And cheer’st them up by singing how
The kingdom's portion is the plough.
This done, then to th' enamelled meads 1
Thou go'st ; and, as thy foot there treads,
Thou seest a present godlike power
Imprinted in each herb and flower ;

To the Virgins, to make much of their Time.

Gather the rose-buds, while ye may,

Old Time is still a-flying,
And this same flower that smiles to-day,

To-morrow will be dying.
The glorious lamp of heaven, the Sun,

The higher he's a getting,
The sooner will his race be run,

And nearer he's to setting.
That age is best which is the first,

When youth and blood are warmer ; But, being spent, the worse, and worst

Time shall succeed the former.
Then be not coy, but use your time,

And while ye may, go marry;
For, having lost but once your prime,

You may for ever tarry.

1 Amongst the sports proper to Twelfth Night in England was the partition of a cake with a bean and pea in it: the in. dividuals who got the bean and pea were respectively king and queen for the evening.

? A drink of warm ale, with roasted apples and spices in it The term is a corruption from the Celtic. a Farm-labourers. The term is still used in Sootland.

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