« ՆախորդըՇարունակել »
The Farewell to Lobe.
From Beaumont and Fletcher's play, entitled The
Lover's Progress, act iii. sc. i.
ADIEU, fond love, farewell you wanton powers ;
I am free again.
5 My nobler love to heaven doth climb, And there behold beauty still young,
That time can ne'er corrupt, nor death destroy,
10 There lies my love, thither my hopes aspire, Fond love declines, this heavenly love grows higher.
Ulysses and the Syren, Affords a pretty poetical contest between Pleasure and Honour. It is found at the end of “Hymen's Triumph: a pastoral tragi-comedie," written by Daniel, and printed among his works, 4to. 1623.* Daniel, who was a contemporary of Drayton's, and is said to have been poet-laureate to Queen Elizabeth, was born in 1562, and died in 1619.
In this edition, it is collated with a copy printed at the end of his “ Tragedie of Cleopatra. Lond. 1607," 12mo.
Anne Countess of Dorset, Pembroke, and Montgomery, (to whom Daniel had been tutor,) has inserted a small portrait of him in a full-length picture of herself, preserved at Appleby Castle, in Cumberland.
This little poem is the rather selected for a specimen of Daniel's poetic powers, as it is omitted in the later edition of his works, 2 vols. 12mo. 1718.
Possesse these shores with me,
And here we may be free.
That travaile in the deepe,
And spend the night in sleepe.
To be attain’d with ease,
And leave such toiles as these :
With danger seek it forth;
Becomes not men of worth.
With that unreall name:
This honour is a thing conceiv'd,
And rests on others' fame. Begotten only to molest
Our peace, and to beguile (The best thing of our life, our rest,
And give us up to toyle!
Nor honor, nor report,
The time in idle sport:
To make us feele our joy;
As labour yeelds annoy.
Whereto tendes all your toyle;
And perish oft the while.
Find never tedious day;
As well as action may.
These toyles and dangers please ;
And they take comfort in the same,
As much as you in ease :
Are recreated still :
To shew that it was ill.
That's out of custom bred ;
Than ever nature did.
Our sports are without blood;
Receives more hurt than good.
These motions of unrest,
Seem borne to turne them best :
And all good order mar :
To be well chang’d for war.
I shall not have thee here;
And therefore I will come to thee,
And take my fortune there.
Yet lost were I not wonne:
T' undoo or be undone.
Cupid's Pastíme. This beautiful poem, which possesses a classical elegance hardly to be expected in the age of James I., is printed from the fourth edition of Davison's Poems,* &c. 1621. It is also found in a later miscellany, entitled, Le Prince d'Amour, 1660, 8vo. Francis Davison, editor of the poems above referred to, was son of that unfortunate secretary of state, who suffered so much from the affair of Mary Queen of Scots. These poems, he tells us in his preface, were written by himself, by his brother [Walter,] who was a soldier in the wars of the Low Countries, and by some dear friends“ anonymoi.” Among them are found some pieces by Sir J. Davis, the Countess of Pembroke, Sir Philip Sidney, Spenser, and other wits of those times.
In the fourth volume of Dryden's Miscellanies, this poem is attributed to Sydney Godolphin, Esq., but erroneously, being probably written before he was born. One edition of Davison's book was published in 1608. Godolphin was born in 1610, and died in 1642–3.-Ath. Ox. ii. 23.
* See the full title in vol. ii. book iii. no. iv.