He that hath found some fledg'd birds' nest, may know At first sight, if the bird be flown; But what fair well or grove he sings in now, And yet as angels in some brighter dreams Call to the soul, when man doth sleep: So some strange thoughts transcend our wonted themes And into glory peep. If a star were confin'd into a tomb, The captive flames must needs burn there; O Father of eternal life, and all Created glories under Thee! Resume thy spirit from this world of thrall Into true liberty. Either disperse these mists, which blot and fill Or else remove me hence unto that hill, Where I shall need no glass. JAMES SHIRLEY. [SHIRLEY was born in London about the year 1596, and lived through the Civil War and Commonwealth into the Restoration, dying in 1667. His copious dramatic activity began in 1625, in which year he produced the comedy entitled Love's Tricks. Before this, in 1618, he had published an imitation of Venus and Adonis under the title of Echo. His plays were produced in rapid succession up to 1641. In 1646 he published a volume of poems, chiefly erotic, and two small volumes of Masques etc. in 1653 and 1659.] Shirley was essentially an imitative not an original genius. His claim to a place among the great poets of his age rests solely upon his wonderful manipulative dexterity, his power of assimilating and reshaping the creations of his great predecessors. Towards the close of a grand period, perhaps even while its leading spirits are in full creative swing, two distinct tendencies manifest themselves. Men of independent mind separate themselves from the main current, and cast about for fields which the masters have left unoccupied. Men of more pliant and docile intellect follow humbly in the footsteps of the masters, and seize freely upon the wealth which they have accumulated. Shirley belonged to the latter class. He did not try to invent new types, or to say what had not been said before; but stored his mind with the thoughts and the imagery of his predecessors, and reproduced them with. joyous facility. We may admire the fluency, the elegance, and the force of Shirley's verse, the ease and naturalness of his dramatic situations, but the attentive reader of his predecessors is never called upon to admire anything new. Fletcher was his chief model and exemplar, but he laid them all freely under contribution. The chief critical pleasure in reading him is the pleasure of memory. W. MINTO. A LULLABY. [From The Triumph of Beauty, a Masque, 1646.] Cease, warring thoughts, and let his brain But be smooth and calm again. Each striving to excel the rest, When it is time to wake him, close your parts, And drop down from the tree with broken hearts. THE GARDEN. [From Poems, 1646.] This garden does not take my eyes, Would stock old Paradise again. These glories while you dote upon, Those tulips that such wealth display But I would see myself appear Within their buds let roses sleep I' th' centre of my ground compose No woman here shall find me out, No birds shall live within my pale, Upon whose death I'll try to write THE MIGHT OF DEATH. [From Cupid and Death, a Masque, 1653.] Victorious men of earth, no more Proclaim how wide your empires are; Though you bind in every shore, As night or day, Yet you, proud monarchs, must obey, Nor to these alone confined More quaint and subtle ways to kill; A DIRGE. [From The Contention of Ajax and Ulysses, printed 1659.] The glories of our blood and state Are shadows, not substantial things; There is no armour against fate; Sceptre and crown Must tumble down, And in the dust be equal made With the poor crooked scythe and spade. They stoop to fate, And must give up their murmuring breath, The garlands wither on your brow, Then boast no more your mighty deeds; Upon Death's purple altar now See, where the victor-victim bleeds: Your heads must come To the cold tomb, Only the actions of the just Smell sweet and blossom in their dust. |