Alexander, (afterwards Earl of Stirling,) which is quoted in the Bibliotheca Anglo-Poetica, p. 286. The tract is there valued at £.10. 10s.; and there is a copy in the Bodleian Library.-The same author published at Edinburgh in 1600, "Sertum Poeticum in honorem Jacobi Sexti, Scotorum Regem;" in 1613 "The Prince's Epitaph," on the death of Prince Henry; and "Corona Virtutum Principe Dignarum, in usum Caroli Pr. ;" and in 1625 "Gratulatio quadrilinguis in Nuptiis Caroli I."

BATHSUA REGINALD.

18. "Musa Virginea Græco-Latino-Gallica, Bathsuæ R. (filiæ Henrici Reginaldi gymnasiarchæ et philoglotti apud Londinenses) anno ætatis suæ decimo sexto edita. Londini, excudebat Edvardus Griffin, impensis Joannis Hodgets, 1616." 4to, pp. 16.

In this production of female precocity are poems addressed to the King, Queen, Prince Charles, the Count Palatine, and Princess Elizabeth, and between each a paraphrase of a Scripture text respecting Kings. The copy presented to the King is in the British Museum. The usual concluding word is converted into the following compliment: "6 REGIS LAUS NESCIA FINIS," the three first words being prefixed by a pen. Besides the language mentioned in the title, the texts are also quoted in Hebrew, Spanish, and Dutch. There is another copy in Bodleian Library.

THOMAS ROSE or Ross.

19. "Idæa, sive de Jacobi Magnæ Britannia, Galliæ, et Hyberniæ præstantissimi et augustissimi Regis virtutibus et ornamentis dilucida Enarratio, ejusque cum laudatissimis veterum Regibus, Monarchis, et Imperatoribus Comparatio exacta et enucleata. Authore Thoma Rosa, Scoto-britanno. Londini, excudebat Johannes Norton, serenissima Regia Majestati in Latinis, Græcis, et Hebraicis Typographus, 1608." 12mo, 356. This is a Latin treatise. About 150 pages are occupied with the praises of the King, and the rest with those of the Royal Family and all the principal Courtiers. There are a few Latin verses at the beginning signed "AR. GORD." There are copies of this in the British Museum and Bodleian libraries.

SIR JOHN STRADLING.

20. "Beati Pacifici, a divine Poem; written to the King, and perused by his Majesty. 1623." 4to.

There was a copy of this sold at Mr. Nassau's sale, March 14, 1824.

Ro. TISDALE.

21. "Pax Vobis, or Wit's Changes: tuned in a Latin hexameter of Peace, whereof the numeral letters present the yeare of our Lord, and the verse itselfe (consisting only of nine words), admitted 1623 several changes or transpositions, remaineth still a true verse, to the great wonder of common understanding. With a Congratulatorie Poem thereupon, and other chronograms of the like numeral nature, expressing both the of our Lord, and the yeare of the King's reigne. Composed in celebration of this yeare's entrance of his Majestie into the xxi yeare of his blessed raigne over Great Britaine, and of the hopefull Journall of the thrice illustrious Prince Charles into Spaine. By Ro. Tisdale, of Graies Inne, Gent. 1623." 4to.

yeare

SORROWES IOY;

or,

A LAMENTATION

for our late deceased Soveraigne ELIZABETH,

WITH A TRIUMPH

for the prosperous Succession of our gratious King IAMES, &c. 1

GRIEFE hauing spent a large excesse of teares,
For the lost treasure of true ioye's content,
Least Plentie vnsupplied should waste in yeares,
Borrowes from Joue's Nine Daughters sad lament.

They, interchangeably, with one assent,

Take griefes aboundance to inrich their owne;
So each to other mutuall weeping lent,

Till Thespia's spring the meades had ouerflowne.

'Printed by John Legat, Printer to the Vniversitie of Cambridge, 1603.-It may not be improper, in this place, to refer to the Harleian Miscellany, for a copy of a Tract originally published in 1603, containing 48 quarto pages, under the title of "England's Mourning Garment: worne here by plain Shepheardes, in memorie of their sacred Mistress, Elizabeth; Queen of Vertue, while she lived; and Theame of Sorrow, being dead. To which is added the true manner of her Imperiall Funeral; with the Shepheard's Spring Song for the Entertainment of King James, our most potent Sovereign. Dedicated to all that loved the deceased Queen, and honour the living King. Non Verbis, sed Virtute." This piece is a kind of pastoral dialogue between some shepherds, in verse and prose, containing a character of the renowned Queen, which has several particulars in it worthy of being preserved; and about the middle two pages and a half of poetry, in reprehension of those able poets, who did or could praise her when alive, for being silent at her death; among whom, though none are named, a reader well versed in their works may discern, he points at Daniel, Warner, Chapman, Marston, Shakspeare, Drayton, and three or four more. As to the order of the Funeral, there are in this but few variations from that which is printed in "Queen Elizabeth's Progresses, vol. III. p. 620. At the end of this part is an advertisement signed Hen. Chettle; who appears to have been the author of the whole. He was a Play-wright of some repute, who wrote many pieces in copartnership with the dramatists of the age. The chief object of this pamphlet was to perpetuate the deserved character of Queen Elizabeth, whom our author has (without bombast) described to be most religious to God, teinperate in all things; just, merciful, and charitable to her subjects, a faithful ally, and true friend to her distressed neighbours. But, in this compass, he has adorned her just encomium with the history of her Royal Ancestors from Henry the Seventh inclusive; and, amongst other things, his caution to discontented murmuring subjects, is worthy our observation. The tract concludes with a Funeral Song, by way of pastoral, the Funeral Procession, and the Shepherd's Spring Song to King James, before mentioned.

Sent-pleasing flowers of gladnesse that had growne
A twentie-two redoubled Summer's pride;
This eie-dropt inundation makes vnknowne,
And rustles hence with an impetuous tide.
Thus have we nothing left of what we had,
But this poor comfort-that we once were glad.
Il fine.

Bright Maiestie hath dimm'd her brightest parts,
Since Glorie's sunshine left the Royal Throne:
In mournefull blacke sit the more mournefull arts
Viewing their life-protecting Empresse gone.
Vertue disconsolate, in restlesse mone,

Like tragicke Chorus, euer meanes to rest;
Peace in dispaire had giuen her latest grone,
If Miracle had not her will represt.

O soule-deare countrie, thou aboue the rest

Liest in deepe floudes of bitter Sorrow drown'd:
Woe's mortall arrowes pierce each mortal brest,

But thy lost heart receives no common wound;
Wounded thou art with woe aboue all other,
Losing thy virgin scepter-swaying Mother.
Il fine.

Heauen, adding glorie to the spatious world,
Gaue the best treasure of the highest spheare:
The world all ioy into Earthe's bosome hurl'd,
The Earth all blisse to her blest Isle did beare.
Heauen wondred at the gift it had bestowed,

The world amazed at this faire Glorie stood,
The Earth for ioy with triumphs ouerflowed,

England secure, bath'd in sweete Blisse's flood. Heauen's aide nere wanted Heauen's gifts supportal, The world World's glorie would haue endlesse made;

The Earth aspir'd to get her ioy immortall;

England still praid her blisse might never fade. Whence then had Death a power against all this, Heaven's gift, World's glorie, Earth's ioy, England's blisse? Il fine.

O, dearest soyle, thy Nile-surrownding sorrow,
Will sympathize with mine eyes ouer flowing;
Our griefe no griefe from any needes to borrow,
True cause of dolour in our selues is growing.
Yet mutually lamenting each with other,

Remorslesse hearts may be to pitty moued:
Thou wayling me, I thee my natiue mother,

Both hauing lost what both of us best loued.
Thou for thy children and thy selfe art weeping,
We for our Mother, and our owne misfortune;
All, for we misse our common parent's keeping,
Whose life let our liues no mischaunce importune.
Our common parent from us all thus taken,
We all may weepe, all orphans left forsaken.
Il fine.

Nature and art so many ages striuing

To whom the palme of excellence belonged, Agree in one rare piece's worke contriuing,

To end the iarre; that each thought other wronged. Unvalued gemmes both heaped on their creature,

A Virgin Queen, the height of praise transcending.
Fortune inamoured on such Angell feature,

In giving favours would admit no ending.
But he [that] thunders from the thrones supernall,
Knowing the Earth vnworthy such rich treasure,
Assumes her lience to raigne in ioyes eternall:

Nature, Art, Fortune, vexed out of measure,
All firmely vowd to frame her equal neuer;
Earth hearing this, vowd likewise teares for euer.
Il fine.

You ill-limd shaddowes of my pensive spirit,

That in dead colours shewe griefs liuing flame,
All grauer judgements your proud dare will blame:
This taske befits a Muse of greater merit.

Cease then rude numbers, of your lines inflame
With sacred furie of diuiner rage:

Confound with woe each person, sexe, and age,
Crie till the hils re-echo back the same.
Nor the loud thunder of your straines asswage,
Till Heauen shall rend the starre-enchaced vaile,
The wheluing orbes in their swift motions faile,
And all things march in funerall equipage.
But O too weake so strongly to preuaile;
Surcease to speake, though never cease to waile.

I. G.

ENGLAND'S FAREWELL.

Come, Muses Nine, and Graces Three, all clad in sad attire,
To mone and waile a Prince's death, the glorie of our quire.
Come, noble Peeres, and English blood, to see what you haue lost:
The anker of our hope beeing broke, how all now may be tost.
Come then, and beare a part with me: let all the churches chime,
Let throbbing sighes be musicke best; let trickling teares keepe time.
Times had their haves, times have their hads, thus times goe in succession:
Would we might say we have not had, but worst is in possession,
So should we say, we have, not had, with grief a Maiden Queene;
Through ages past, future, or nowe, the like not to be seene.

Most Princes have all their renowne, from countries where they raigne;
Fewe countries doe by worthy Kings a name more famous gaine.
If fewe or none, or onely one, then is it onely this,
Wherein we live, wherein there raign'd, the mirrour of our blisse.
One whome all virtues did agree, to give their perfect tincture,
Dame Nature was not farre behind, to decke her with her feature.
And thus adorn'd long did shee raigne, admired of each nation,
To see seauen Popes, their lives and ends, and all her foes confusion,
Beloved of vs, honoured of friends, of ennemies alwaies feared,

Of Spanish King, whose kingdom quak't, when they her flagge saw reared
If Belgia did her patronage, if France her league did crave,
Her mightie power thou maist guesse, what vertue not to have.
Zenobia, Bundwic, Britaine's Helen, give place unto the best;

If Queene's doe win the praise from Kings, shee may aboue the rest.
Nor so great iarre for Homer's birth, seaven Grecian townes among,
As now there is 'mongst vertues all, to whome shee doth belong.
Unhappie land, which canst not have such Princes be immortall:
Or to bequeath by legacie their gifts, they beeing fatall.

The Hempe is spunne, the glasse is run, the English-borne blood's ceased;
With better Prince then this, could not deare Theodors name have ended.
In honour thine, we onely wish, each Prince as good to be;

And in our hearts for future time, will reare a tombe for thee.
The song is sung: now looke abroad, and see what's like to fall;
The day beeing spent, some mistie clouds may rise to darken all.
A wonder 'tis our sunne is set, and yet there is no night;
Darke storms were feared around about, and yet all ouer bright.
Blest God, when we for feare scarce lookt to have seen Peace's moonshine,
Thou sentst from North, past all our hopes, King James his glorious sunshine.
RI. PARKER, Caigon.