His certain life, that never can deceive him, Is full of thousand sweets and rich content: The smooth-leaved beeches in the field receive him Of troublous world, nor lost in slothful ease: Pleased and full bless'd he lives, when he his God can please. His bed of wool yields safe and quiet sleeps, His little son into his bosom creeps, The lively picture of his father's face: Never his humble house or state torment him; Less he could like, if less his God had sent him; And when he dies, green turfs with grassy tomb content him. ENVY.1 Envy the next, Envy with squinted eyes; Sick of a strange disease, his neighbor's health; Is never poor, but in another's wealth: On best men's harms and griefs he feeds his fill; Ill must the temper be, where diet is so ill. Each eye through divers optics slyly leers, And molehill faults to mountains multiply. When needs he must, yet faintly, then he praises; Somewhat the deed, much more the means he raises. DECAY OF HUMAN GREATNESS. Fond man, that looks on earth for happiness, And here long seeks what here is never found! Why shouldst thou here look for perpetual good, Do but behold where glorious cities stood, With gilded tops and silver turrets shining; And loving pelican in safety breeds: There screeching satyrs fill the people's empty steads.2 Where is th' Assyrian lion's golden hide, That all the East once grasp'd in lordly paw? 1 "In his description of Envy, Fletcher is superior to Spenser."--Retrospective Review & 34 Places. Where that great Persian bear, whose swelling pride Or he which, 'twixt a lion and a pard, Through all the world with nimble pinions fared, And to his greedy whelps his conquer'd kingdoms shared. Hardly the place of such antiquity, Or note of these great monarchies we find: Only a fading verbal memory, And empty name in writ is left behind: But when this second life and glory fades, And sinks at length in time's obscurer shades, A second fall succeeds, and double death invades. That monstrous beast, which, nursed in Tiber's fen, And trod down all the rest to dust and clay: Back'd, bridled by a monk, with seven heads yoked stands. And that black vulture,' which, with deathful wing, Frighted the Muses from their native spring, Already stoops, and flags with weary flight: Who then shall hope for happiness beneath? Where each new day proclaims chance, change, and death, WILLIAM HABINGTON. 1605-1654. WILLIAM HABINGTON was born at the country seat of his ancestors in Worcestershire, called Hindlip, in 1605, the year of the famed gunpowder plot, the discovery of which is said to have come from his mother. They were a wealthy family, and were Papists. William was educated in the Jesuits' College in St. Omers, and afterwards at Paris, in the hope that he might enter into that society. But he preferred a wiser and happier course of life, and returning to his own country, married Lucy, daughter of William Herbert. In 1635 he published a volume of poems entitled "Castara," under which name he celebrates his wife, a kind of title fashionable in that day. He died when he had just completed his fiftieth year, and was buried in the family vault at Hindlip. But little is known of Habington's history. He appears to have been distinguished for connubial felicity, for a love of retirement and study, and for the dignity and moral beauty of his sentiments. "His poems possess much elegance, much poetical fancy, and are almost everywhere tinged with a deep moral cast, which ought to have made their fame more permanent." 1 The Mohammedan Empire. 2 See "Censura Literaria," viii. 227 and 337; and "Retrospective Review, xii. 274; also, "Hallam's Literature," &c., ii. 182. FEW names in our language have united in a greater degree the character of an instructive prose writer and a vigorous poet, than Joseph Hall. He was born at Briston Park, in Leicestershire, in 1574, and after taking his degree at Cambridge, he rose through various church preferments to be Bishop of Exeter, and subsequently, in 1641, to be Bishop of Norwich. In the same year he joined with the twelve prelates in the protestation of all laws made during their forced absence from Parliament. In consequence of this, he, with the rest, was sent to the Tower, and was released only on giving £5000 bail. Two years after, he was among the number marked out for sequestration. After suffering extreme hardships, he was allowed to retire on a small pittance, to Higham, near Norwich, where he continued, in comparative obscurity, but with indefatigable zeal and intrepidity, to exercise the duties of a pastor, till he closed his days, in the year 1656, at the venerable age of eighty-two. As a poet, Bishop Hall is known by his "Bookes of byting Satyres." These were published at the early age of twenty-three. They are marked, says Warton, with a classical precision to which English poetry had yet rarely attained. They are replete with animation of style and sentiment. The characters are delineated in strong and lively coloring, and their discriminations are touched with the masterly traces of genuine humor. His chief fault is obscurity, arising from a remote phraseology, constrained combinations, un familiar allusions, and abruptness of expression. But it must be borne in mind that he was the first English satirist. Pope, on presenting Mr. West with a copy of his poetical works, observed that he esteemed them the best poetry and the truest satire in the language. THE ANXIOUS CLIENT AND RAPACIOUS LAWYER. The crouching client, with low-bended knee, 1 A masterly analysis of these satires may be found in Warton's "Ristory of English Poetry," vol. iv., ctions 62, 63, and 64. 1 Yet even. Tells on his tale as smoothly as him list; "Doubt not the suit, the law is plain for thee." THE DOMESTIC TUTOR. A gentle squire would gladly entertain Ever presume to sit above the salt.6 Third, that he never change his trencher twice. How many jerks7 she would his back should line. To give five marks and winter livery. THE RUSTIC WISHING TO TURN SOLDIER. The sturdy ploughman doth the soldier see And his dim eyes see nought but dread and drear. 2 Pull them out of his purse. 3 Or, a table-chaplain. In the same sense we have "trencher-knight" in "Love's Labor Lost." We still too often see, as did Hall, the depressed state of modest, but true genius; we still see "the learned pate duck to the golden fool;" we still see "pastors and teachers" court and flatter men who have little else than their money to recommend them. 4 Pronounced as in four syllables, con-di-ti-ons. 6 This indulgence allowed to the pupil is the reverse of a more ancient rule at Oxford, by which the scholars are ordered "to sleep respectively under the beds of the Fellows, in a truckle bed, (Trookyu Leddys, vulgariter nuncupati,) or small bed shifted about upon wheels." In Hall's day the table was divided into the upper and lower messes, by a huge salt-cellar, and the rank and consequence of the visitors were marked by the situation of their seats above or below the salt-cellar. 7 Lashes. 8 A kind of forester's green cloth, so called from Kendal, Westmoreland county, which was famous for its manufacture. 9 "A kind of rustic high shoes or half boots. JO That is, to them who have never seen the time when, &c. |