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To make one striding of a barbed steed,
Prancing a stately round: I use indeed
To ride Bat Jewel's jade; this is the skill,
This shows the poet wants not wit at will.

I must admire aloof, and for my part
Be well contented, since you do't with art.

LOVE'S BURNING-GLASS. WONDERING long how I cou'd harmless see Men gazing on those beames that fired me; At last I foond, it was the crystal love Before my heart, that did the heat improve: Which by contracting of those scatter'd rays Into it self, did so produce my blaze. Now lighted by my love, I see the same Beams dazzle those, that me are wont t' inflame. And now I bless my love, when I do think By how much I had rather burn than wirk. But how much happier were it thus to burn, If I had liberty to choose my urn? But since those beams do promise only fire, This flame shall purge me of the dross, desire.

SONG.
When, dearest, I but think of thee,
Methinks all things that lovely be

Are present, and my soul delighted;
Por beauties that from worth arise,
Are like the grace of deities,

Still present with us, tho’ unsighted.
Thus whilst I sit, and sigh the day
With all his borrow'd lights away,

'Till night's black wings do overtake me, Thinking on thee, thy beauties then, As sudden lights do sleepy men,

So they by their bright rays awake me. Thus absence dies, and dying proves No absence can subsist with loves

That do partake of fair perfection; Since in the darkest night they may, By love's quick motion, find a way

To see each other by reflection.
The waving sea can with each flood
Bath some high promont, that has stood

Far from the main up in the river:
Oh think not then but love can do
As much, for that's an ocean too,
Which Aows not every day, but ever.

THE MIRACLE. Ip thou be'st ice, 1 do admire How thou cou'dst set my heart on fire; Or how thy fire cou'd kindle me, Thou being ice, and not melt thee; But even my flames, light at thy own, Have bardned thee into a stone! Wonder of love! that canst fulfil, Inverting nature thus, thy will; Making ice one another burn, Whilst it self does harder turn.

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'Ει μεν ήν μαθείν 'Adsī maltīy Kai un radio, Καλόν ήν το μαθεϊν, , Ei xal di fulsīv "A δει μαθεϊν, τί δει μαθεϊν, ;

THE EXPOSTULATION. TELL

me, ye juster deities, That pity lovers' miseries, Why shou'd my own unworthiness Light me to seek my happiness? It is as natural, as just, Him for to love whom needs I must: All men confess that love's a fire, Then who denies it to aspire ? Tell me, if thou wert fortune's thrall, Wou'd'st thou not raise thee from the fall? Seek only to o'erlook thy state Whereto thou art condemn'd by fate? Then let me love my Corydon, And by love's leave, bim love alone: For I have read in stories oft, That love has wings, and soars aloft. Then let me grow in my desire, Though I be martyr'd in that fire: For grace it is enough for me But only to love such as he: For never shall my thoughts be base, Though luckless, yet without disgrace: Then let him that my love shall blame, Or clip love's wings, or quench love's flame.

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SCIRE si liceret quæ debes subire,
Et non subire, pulchrum est scire:
Sed si subire debes que debes scire,
Quorsum vis scire? nam debes subire,

ENGLISH ED THUS.

If man might know

The ill he must undergo, And shun it so,

Then it were good to know: But if he undergo it,

Tho' he know it,
What boots him know it?

He must undergo it.

DETRACTION EXECRATED. Thou vermin Slander, bred in abject minds Of thoughts impure, by vile tongues animate, Canker of conversation! cou'dst thou find Nought but our love, whereon to show thy hate? Thou never wert, when we two were alone; What canst thou witness then ? thy base dull aid Was useless in our conversation, Where each meant more than cou'd by both be said.

Whence hadst thou thy intelligence, from earth? Let it suffice, that neither I de lom
That part of us ne'er knew that we did love: In such a calm observance, as to weigh
Or from the air ? Our gentle sighs bad birth

Each word I say,
From such swect raptures as to joy did move: And each examin'd look to approve
Our thoughts, as pure as the chast morning's That towards her does move,
breath,

Without so much of bire
When from the night's cold arms it creeps away, As might, in time, kindle into desire.
Were cloth'd in words; and maiden's blush that
More purity, more innocence than they. shath

Or give me leave to burst into a fame,
Nor from the water cou'd'st thou have this tale,

And at the scope of my unbounded will No briny tear has furrow'd her smooth check ;

Love her my fill, And I was pleas'd, I pray what shou'd he ail

No superscriptions of fame, That had her love, for what else could he seek?

Of honour or good wame, We shortped days to moments by love's art,

No thought but to improve Whilst our two souls in amorous ecstasy

The gentle and quick approaches of my love. Perceiv'd no passing time, as if a part

But thus to throng and overlade a soul Our love had been of still eternity.

With love, and then to have a room for fear, Much less cou'd have it from the purer fire;

That shall all that controul,
Our heat exhales no vapour from coarse sense, What is it but to rear
Such as are hopes, or fears, or fond desire; Our passions and our hopes on high,
Our mutual love it self did recompence,

That thence they may descrie
Thou hast no correspondence had in Heavia, The noblest way how to despair and die!
And th' elemental world, thou seest, is free:
Whence badst thou then this, talking monster? even
From Hell, a harbour fit for it and thee.
Curst be th' officious tongue that did address

A PROLOGUE OF THE AUTHOR'S
Thee to her ears, to min my content:
May it one minute taste such happiness,

TO A MASQUE AT WITTEN.
Deserving loos'd unpitied it lament!
I must forbear her sight, and so repay

Expect not here a curious river fine,
In grief, those hours joy shortned to a dram:

Our wits are short of that: alas the time Each minute I will lengthen to a day,

The neat re ned language of the court
And in one year out-live Methusalem.

We know not; if we did, our country sport
Must not be too ambitious; 'tis for kings,
Not for their subjects, to have such rare things,
Besides tho', I confess, Parpassus hardly,

Yet Helicon this summer-time is dry:
SONG.

Our wits were at an ebb, or very low,
Unjust decrees, that do at once exact

And to say truth, I think they cannot flow, From such a love as worthy hearts shou'd own,

But yet a gracious influence from you So wild a passion,

May alter nature in our brow-sick crew; And yet so tame a presence

Have patience then, we pray, and sit a while As holding no proportion,

And, if a laugh be too much, lend a smile. Cranges into impossible obedience.

THE

POEMS

OF

WILLIAM CARTWRIGHT?

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THE

LIFE OF WILLIAM CARTWRIGHT,

BY MR. CHALMERS.

Tuis

poet was born at Northway, near Tewkesbury, in Gloucestershire, September, 1611. His father, after spending a good estate, was reduced to keep an inn at Cirencester, at the free school of which town his son was educated under Mr. William Topp. Being chosen a king's scholar, he was removed to Westminster school, under Dr. Osbaldiston, and thence elected a student of Christ-church, Oxford, in 1628. After pursuing his studies, with the reputation of an extraordinary scholar and genius, he took his master's degree in 1635; and in 1638 went into holy orders, becoming is

a most florid and seraphical preacher in the university.” One sermon only of his is in print, from which we are not able to form a very high notion of bis eloquence: but when Mr. Abraham Wright, of St. John's, Oxford, compiled that scarce little book, entitled Five Sermons in Five several Styles, or Ways of Preaching, it appears that Dr. Maine and Mr. Cartwright were of consequence enough to be admitted as specimens of university preaching. The others are bishop Andrews', bishop Hall's, and the presbyterian and independent " ways of preaching."

In 1642, bishop Duppa, witi whom he lived in the strictest intimacy, bestowed on him the place of succentor of the church of Salisbury. In the same year he was one of the council of war, or delegacy, appointed by the university of Oxford, for providing for the troops sent by the king to protect the colleges. His zeal in this office occasioned his being imprisoned by the parliamentary forces when they arrived at Oxford; but he was bailed soon after'. In 1643, he was chosen junior proctor of the university, and was also reader in metaphysics. “ The exposition of them," says Wood," was never better performed than by him and his predecessor Thomas Barlow, of Queen's College.” Lloyd asserts, that he studied at the rate of sixteen hours a day. From such diligence and talents much might have been expected; but

I Wood's Annals, vol. II, 447. Co

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