part ii
. line 53._
There 's no such thing in Nature, and you 'll draw A faultless monster which the world ne'er saw.
SHEFFIELD: _Essay on Poetry._
MARQUIS OF MONTROSE. 1612-1650.
He either fears his fate too much, Or his deserts are small, That dares not put it to the touch To gain or lose it all.[257-2]
_My Dear and only Love._
I 'll make thee glorious by my pen, And famous by my sword.[257-3]
_My Dear and only Love._
FOOTNOTES:
[257-2] That puts it not unto the touch To win or lose it all.
NAPIER: _Montrose and the Covenanters, vol. ii. p. 566._
[257-3] I 'll make thee famous by my pen, And glorious by my sword.
SCOTT: _Legend of Montrose, chap. xv._
SIR JOHN DENHAM. 1615-1668.
Though with those streams he no resemblance hold, Whose foam is amber and their gravel gold; His genuine and less guilty wealth t' explore, Search not his bottom, but survey his shore.
_Cooper's Hill. Line 165._
Oh, could I flow like thee, and make thy stream My great example, as it is my theme! Though deep, yet clear; though gentle, yet not dull; Strong without rage; without o'erflowing, full.
_Cooper's Hill. Line 189._
## Actions of the last age are like almanacs of the last year.
_The Sophy. A Tragedy._
But whither am I strayed? I need not raise Trophies to thee from other men's dispraise; Nor is thy fame on lesser ruins built; Nor needs thy juster title the foul guilt Of Eastern kings, who, to secure their reign, Must have their brothers, sons, and kindred slain.[258-1]
_On Mr. John Fletcher's Works._
FOOTNOTES:
[258-1] Poets are sultans, if they had their will; For every author would his brother kill.
ORRERY: _Prologues_ (according to Johnson).
Should such a man, too fond to rule alone, Bear, like the Turk, no brother near the throne.
POPE: _Prologue to the Satires, line 197._
RICHARD CRASHAW. _Circa_ 1616-1650.
The conscious water saw its God and blushed.[258-2]
_Epigram._
Whoe'er she be, That not impossible she, That shall command my heart and me.
_Wishes to his Supposed Mistress._
Where'er she lie, Locked up from mortal eye, In shady leaves of destiny.
_Wishes to his Supposed Mistress._
Days that need borrow No part of their good morrow From a fore-spent night of sorrow.
_Wishes to his Supposed Mistress._
Life that dares send A challenge to his end, And when it comes, say, Welcome, friend!
_Wishes to his Supposed Mistress._
Sydneian showers Of sweet discourse, whose powers Can crown old Winter's head with flowers.
_Wishes to his Supposed Mistress._
A happy soul, that all the way To heaven hath a summer's day.
_In Praise of Lessius's Rule of Health._
The modest front of this small floor, Believe me, reader, can say more Than many a braver marble can,-- "Here lies a truly honest man!"
_Epitaph upon Mr. Ashton._
FOOTNOTES:
[258-2] Nympha pudica Deum vidit, et erubuit (The modest Nymph saw the god, and blushed).--_Epigrammationa Sacra. Aquæ in vinum versæ, p. 299._
RICHARD LOVELACE. 1618-1658.
Oh, could you view the melody Of every grace And music of her face,[259-1] You 'd drop a tear; Seeing more harmony In her bright eye Than now you hear.
_Orpheus to Beasts._
I could not love thee, dear, so much, Lov'd I not honour more.
_To Lucasta, on going to the Wars._
When flowing cups pass swiftly round With no allaying Thames.[259-2]
_To Althea from Prison, ii._
Fishes that tipple in the deep, Know no such liberty.
_To Althea from Prison, ii._
Stone walls do not a prison make, Nor iron bars a cage; Minds innocent and quiet take That for an hermitage; If I have freedom in my love, And in my soul am free, Angels alone that soar above Enjoy such liberty.
_To Althea from Prison, iv._
FOOTNOTES:
[259-1] See Browne, page 218.
The mind, the music breathing from her face.--BYRON: _Bride of Abydos, canto i. stanza 6._
[259-2] See Shakespeare, page 103.
ABRAHAM COWLEY. 1618-1667.
What shall I do to be forever known, And make the age to come my own?
_The Motto._
His time is forever, everywhere his place.
_Friendship in Absence._
We spent them not in toys, in lusts, or wine, But search of deep philosophy, Wit, eloquence, and poetry; Arts which I lov'd, for they, my friend, were thine.
_On the Death of Mr. William Harvey._
His _faith_, perhaps, in some nice tenets might Be wrong; his _life_, I 'm sure, was in the right.[260-1]
_On the Death of Crashaw._
The thirsty earth soaks up the rain, And drinks, and gapes for drink again; The plants suck in the earth, and are With constant drinking fresh and fair.
_From Anacreon, ii. Drinking._
Fill all the glasses there, for why Should every creature drink but I? Why, man of morals, tell me why?
_From Anacreon, ii. Drinking._
A mighty pain to love it is, And 't is a pain that pain to miss; But of all pains, the greatest pain It is to love, but love in vain.
_From Anacreon, vii. Gold._
Hope, of all ills that men endure, The only cheap and universal cure.
_The Mistress. For Hope._
Th' adorning thee with so much art Is but a barb'rous skill; 'T is like the pois'ning of a dart, Too apt before to kill.
_The Waiting Maid._
Nothing is there to come, and nothing past, But an eternal now does always last.[261-1]
_Davideis. Book i . Line 25._
When Israel was from bondage led, Led by the Almighty's hand From out of foreign land, The great sea beheld and fled.
_Davideis. Book i . Line 41._
An harmless flaming meteor shone for hair, And fell adown his shoulders with loose care.[261-2]
_Davideis.