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would by new ways old orders rend,
shall never find a happy end.

H. VAUGHAN

SONG

ASK

:

315

SK me no more where Jove bestows,

when June is past, the fading ro
for in your beauties orient deep
these flowers, as in their causes, sleep.
Ask me no more, whither do stray
the golden atoms of the day;
for, in pure love, heaven did prepare
those powders to enrich your hair.
Ask me no more, whither doth haste
the nightingale, when May is past ;
for in your sweet dividing throat
she winters and keeps warm her note.
Ask me no more, where those stars light
that downwards fall in dead of night;
for in your eyes they sit, and there
fixed become, as in their sphere.
Ask me no more, if east or west
the phoenix builds her spicy nest;
for unto you at last she flies
and in your fragrant bosom dies.

T. CAREW

316 THE SHORTNESS OF LIFE AND UNCERTAINTY OF

RICHES

,
,
or, what is worse, be left by it?
Why dost thou load thyself, when thou’rt to fly,

O man ordained to die?
Why dost thou build up stately rooms on high,

thou who art under ground to lie ?
Thou sow'st and plantest, but no fruit must see,

for Death alas! is reaping thee.
Thou dost thyself wise and industrious deem:

A mighty husband thou would'st seem;
fond man! like a bought slave, thou all the while

dost but for others sweat and toil.

Ev'n aged men, as if they truly were

children again, for age prepare; provisions for long travel they design

in the last point of their short line. Wisely the ant against poor winter hoards

the stock which summer's wealth affords; in grasshoppers, which must in autumn die,

how vain were such an industry !
317 Of power and honour the deceitful light

might half excuse our cheated sight,
if it of life the whole small time would stay,

and be our sunshine all the day.
Like lightning that begot but in a cloud,

(tho'shining bright and speaking loud)
whilst it begins, concludes its violent race,

and where it gilds, it wounds the place.
O scene of Fortune, which dost fair appear

only to men that stand not near!
proud poverty, that tinsel bravery wears !

and, like a rainbow, painted tears!
Be prudent and the shore in prospect keep,

in a weak boat trust not the deep,
placed beneath envy, above envying rise,

pity great men, great things despise.
The wise example of the heavenly lark

thy fellow-poet, Cowley, mark,
above the clouds let thy proud music sound,

thy humble nest build on the ground.

A. COWLEY

318

TO A DYING INFANT

LEEP, little baby, sleep!

in thy bed, not on thy mother's breast henceforth shall be thy rest,

but quiet with the dead.
Flee, little tender nursling,

flee to thy place of rest!
there the first flowers shall blow,
the first pure flake of snow

shall fall upon thy breast,

I've seen thee in thy beauty,

a thing all health and glee !
but never then wert thou
so beautiful, as now,

baby! thou seem'st to me.
Mount up, immortal essence!

young spirit! haste, depart-
and is this Death!- Dread thing!
if such thy visiting,

how beautiful thou art!

C. BOWLES

319

THE QUIET LIFE

APPY the man, whose wish and care

;

content to breathe his native air

in his own ground.
Whose herds with milk, whose fields with bread,
whose flocks supply him with attire ;
whose trees in summer yield him shade,

in winter, fire.
Blest, who can unconcern’dly find
hours, days, and years, slide soft away,
in health of body, peace of mind,

quiet by day,
sound sleep by night: study and ease
together mix'd; sweet recreation,
and innocence, which most doth please

with meditation.
Thus let me live, unseen, unknown;
thus unlamented let me die;
steal from the world, and not a stone

tell where I lie.

A. POPE

320

VERSES TO HIS WIFE

IF
F thou, my love, wert by my side,

my children at my knee,
how gaily would our pinnace glide

o'er Gunga's mimic sea! .

I miss thee, at the dawning gray,

when, on the deck reclined,
in careless ease my limbs I lay,

and woo the cooler wind.

I miss thee when by Gunga's stream

my twilight steps I guide;
but most beneath the lamp's pale beam

I miss thee from my side.
I spread my books, my pencil try,

the lingering noon to cheer,
but miss thy kind approving eye,

thy meek attentive ear.
Yet when of morn and eve the star

beholds me on my knee,
'I feel, though thou art distant far,

thy prayers ascend for me.

R. HEBER

321

THE GOOD ALONE ARE GREAT

WHEN

HEN winds the mountain oak assail,

and lay its glories waste,
content may slumber in the vale,
unconscious of the blast.
Thro’ scenes of tumult while we roam,
the heart, alas! is ne'er at home,
it hopes in time to roam no more;
the mariner, not vainly brave,
combats the storm, and rides the wave,
to rest at last on shore.
Ye proud, ye selfish, ye severe,
how vain your mask of state !
the good alone have joy sincere,
that good alone are great :
great, when, amid the vale of peace,
they bid the plaint of sorrow cease,
and hear the voice of artless praise;
as when along the trophy'd plain
sublime they lead the victor train,
while shouting nations gaze.

J. BEATTIE

322

TO AN EARLY PRIMROSE

ILD offspring of a dark and sullen sire,

was nursed in whirling storms,

and cradled in the winds; thee when young spring first questioned winter's sway, and dared the sturdy blusterer to the fight,

thee on this bank he threw

to mark the victory.
In this low vale, the promise of the year,
serene, thou openest to the nipping gale,

unnoticed and alone,

thy tender elegance. So virtue blooms, brought forth amid the storms of chill adversity; in some lone walk

of life she rears her head,

obscure and unobserved;
while every bleaching breeze that on her blows,
chastens her spotless purity of breast,

and hardens her to bear
serene the ills of life.

H. K. WHITE

323

THE SONG OF DIANA
WITH

TH horns and with hounds, I waken the day;

and hie to the woodland-walks away:
I tuck up my robe, and am buskined soon,
and tie to my forehead a wexing moon.
I course the fleet stag, unkennel the fox,

and chase the wild goats o'er summits of rocks, with shouting and hooting we pierce through the sky, and Echo turns hunter, and doubles the cry.

SONG OF MARS

Inspire the vocal brass, inspire;
the world is past its infant age:

arms and honour,

arms and honour,
set the martial soul on fire,
and kindle manly rage.

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