329 Yea, man himself, unto whose will all things are bounden to obey, for all his wit and worthy skill, doth fade at length and fall away. upon the throne of glorious Fame: THOU LAPLAND LOVE-SONG HOU rising sun, whose gladsome ray dispel the mist, and clear the skies, O were I sure my dear to view, Oh! could I ride the clouds and skies, or on the raven's pinions rise; My bliss too long my bride denies, not storms or night shall keep me here. What may for strength with steel compare? by bolts of steel are limbs confined, but cruel love enchains the mind. No longer then perplex thy breast; when thoughts torment, the first are best: A. PHILIPS 330 331 LOVE-SONG MY Y dear and only love, I pray And in the empire of thy heart, As Alexander I will reign, my thoughts did evermore disdain He either fears his fate too much, who dares not put it to the touch But if no faithless action stain I'll deck and crown thy head with bays MARQUIS OF MONTROSE NEW SELF HY sittest thou on that sea-girt rock WHY with downward look and sadly-dreaming eye: playest thou beneath with Proteus' flock, or with the far-bound sea-bird wouldst thou fly? OLD SELF I sit upon this sea-girt rock with downward look and dreaming eye; But neither do I sport with Proteus' flock, nor with the far-bound sea-bird would I fly. of I list the splash so clear and chill I watch the waves that rippling still NEW SELF Yet from the splash of yonder oar OLD SELF I mourn for the delicious days, when those calm sounds fell on my childish ear, NEW SELF Mournest thou, poor soul! and thou wouldst yet call back the things which shall not, cannot be? Heaven must be won, not dreamed: thy task is set, peace was not made for earth, nor rest for thee. LYRA APOSTOLICA 332 ON THE DEATH OF COLONEL CHARLES ROSS IN BLEST youth, regardful of thy doom with shadowy trophies crowned: whilst Honour bathed in tears shall rove By rapid Schelde's descending wave that sacred spot the village hind The warlike dead of every age, 333 shall leave their sainted rest; But lo, where sunk in deep despair, her matted tresses madly spread, THE PROGRESS OF POESY WAKE, Aeolian lyre, awake, AWAKE, W. COLLINS and give to rapture all thy trembling strings. From Helicon's harmonious springs a thousand rills their mazy progress take: the laughing flowers that round them blow Now the rich stream of Music winds along through verdant vales, and Ceres' golden reign; the rocks and nodding groves re-bellow to the roar O Sovereign of the willing soul, parent of sweet and solemn-breathing airs, and frantic Passions hear thy soft control. has curb'd the fury of his car and dropt his thirsty lance at thy command. of Jove, thy magic lulls the feather'd king quench'd in dark clouds of slumber lie the terror of his beak, and lightnings of his eye. 334 Thee the voice, the dance, obey, temper'd to thy warbled lay. O'er Idalia's velvet-green the rosy-crowned Loves are seen with antic Sport, and blue-eyed Pleasures, now in circling troops they meet: glance their many-twinkling feet. Slow melting strains their Queen's approach declare: with arms sublime that float upon the air o'er her warm cheek and rising bosom move the bloom of young Desire and purple light of Love. T. GRAY 335 UPON THE SHORTNESS OF MAN'S LIFE M ARK that swift arrow how it cuts the air, use all persuasions now, and try if thou canst call it back or stay it there; Fool, 'tis thy life, and the fond Archer thou, I'll bid thee fetch but yesterday, Our life is carried with too strong a tide, But his past life who without grief can see, A. COWLEY |