out doubt the best in the language between the time of Shakespeare and that of Milton. MY WANDERING THOUGHTS. How that vast Heaven intitled First1 is rolled; And people living in Eternity, Or essence pure that doth this All uphold; What motion have those fixèd sparks of gold; The wandering carbuncles which shine from high, If they be turned, and mortal things behold; How Sun posts heaven about; how Night's pale Queen, In Air's large field of light and Sea's profound : : Did hold my wandering thoughts, when thy sweet eye THE MOURNING LUTE. Sound hoarse, sad lute, true witness of my woe, With soul-enchanting sounds your accents strain Nor comfort weep but when you do complain ; Then sound, sad lute, and bear a mourning part; A MADRIGAL. Like the Idalian queen, And neck, on breasts ripe apples to be seen, At first glance of the morn, In Cyprus gardens gathering those fair flowers 1 The Primum Mobile or outermost Sphere, 2 Globe. I saw, but fainting saw : my paramours With silence on her gazed; The flowers did smile like those upon her face; PHYLLIS. In petticoat of green, Sat milking her fair flock : 'Mongst that sweet strainèd moisture, rare delight, Her hand seemed milk in milk, it was so white! OF A BEE. O, do not kill that bee Sweet, it was no despite, But hue did him deceive: For, when thy lips did close, He deemed them a rose; What wouldst thou further crave? He, wanting wit, and blinded with delight, FROM FLOWERS OF SION. CHILDREN OF THE WORLD. Of this fair volume which we World1 do name We clear might read the art and wisdom rare, His justice which proud rebels doth not spare, 1 Drummond's "world" signified the visible or starry universe. But silly we, like foolish children, rest Well pleased with coloured vellum, leaves of gold, HIDDEN IN LIGHT. Beneath a sable vail and shadows deep In silence, ebon clouds more black than night, With thunders He, and lightnings, blasts their sight. Within thy bright abysms, most fair, most dark, To guide me in life's night, Thy light me show: SAFE AND ALL SCARLESS. As when it happeneth that some lovely town Who both by sword and flames himself installs, Yet lurks unmaimed within her weeping walls: So, after all the spoil, disgrace, and wreck, That time, the world, and death, could bring combined, Amid that mass of ruins they did make, Safe and all scarless yet remains my mind. From this so high transcendent rapture springs 1 Own. FROM THE RIVER OF FORTH FEASTING. THE SONG OF THE RIVER TO THE KING.1 O, long, long, haunt these bounds, which by thy sight Have now regained their former heat and light! Here grow green woods; here silver brooks do glide; Here meadows stretch them out, with painted pride Embroidering all the lands here hills aspire To crown their heads with the ethereal fire-- Which never friends did slight, nor swords made thralls; ... And, not impaled, the deep-mouthed hounds do shun; 1 James VI. of Scotland. 2 Little wood-gods. 3 i.e. the River Forth. 4 One of the heads of the Thames. JOHN FORD. THE following songs are taken from a play called The Sun's Darling, 1633, written conjointly by Ford and Dekker. Ford was one of the most remarkable of the minor Elizabethan dramatists. By profession he was a barrister of Gray's Inn ; and this portrait of him has come down to us in a contemporary satire : "Deep in a dump John Ford was got, With folded arms and melancholy hat." Of Dekker we know still less; but our songs, which may have been written by either of them, represent their authors as writers of grace and vivacity, with moods of rollicking mirth. THE DEATH OF SPRING. Here lies the blithe Spring, A sweating sickness she got, Yet no month can say But her merry daughter May An epitaph o'er her hearse; But, assure you, the lines were not dainty. A SONG OF SPRING. Haymakers, rakers, reapers, and mowers, Dress up with musk-rose her eglantine bowers; Sing, dance, and play; The Sun does bravely shine On our ears of corn |