Whilst in this manner I remaine,
Like to the statue of some one that's dead,

Strange tyrants in my bosom raigue,

A field of fancies fights within my head:
Yet if the tongue were true,
We boldly might pursue

That diamantine hart;
But when that it's restrain'd,
As doom'd to be disdain'd,
My sighes show how I smart.

No wonder then although I wracke,
By them betray'd in whom I did confide,
Since tongue, heart, eyes, and all gave backe,
She justly may my childishnesse deride.
Yet that which I conceale
May serve for to reveale

My fervencie in love.
My passions were too great
For words t'expresse my state,
As to my paines I prove.

Oft those that do deserve disdaine
For forging fancies get the best reward;
Where I, who feele what they do faine,
For too much love am had in no regard.
Behold my proofe, we see
The gallant living free,

His fancies doth extend;
Where he that is orecome,

Rein'd with respects stands dumbe,
Still fearing to offend.

My bashfulnesse when she beholds,
Or rather my affection out of bounds,
Although my face my state unfolds,
And in my hue discovers hidden wounds:
Yet jeasting at my wo,
She doubts if it be so,

As she could not conceive it.
This grieves me most of all,
She triumphs in my fall,

Not seeming to perceive it.

Then since in vaine I plaints impart
To scornfull eares, in a contemned scroule;
And since my toung betrayes my hart,
And cannot tell the anguish of my soule;

Henceforth I'll hide my losses,
And not recompt the crosses
That do my joyes orethrow:

At least to senselesse things,

A SPEECH OF COELIA.
(FROM THE TRAGEDY OF CRŒESUS.)

Fierce tyrant, Death, who in thy wrath didst tal
One half of me, and left one half behind,
Take this to thee, or give the other back,
Be wholly cruel, or be no way kind!

But whilst I live, believe, thou canst not die-
O! e'en in spite of death, yet still my choice
Oft with the inward all-beholding eye

I think I see thee, and I hear thy voice.

And to content my languishing desire,

To ease my mind each thing some help affor Thy fancied form doth oft such faith acquire, That in all sounds I apprehend thy words.

Then with such thoughts my memory to wou
I call to mind thy looks, thy words, thy grac
Where thou didst haunt, yet I adore the grou
And where thou slept, O, sacred seems t
place!

My solitary walks, my widow'd bed,

My dreary sighs, my sheets oft bath'd w

tears,

These shall record what life by me is led
Since first sad news breath'd death into n

ear.

Though for more pain yet spar'd a space by de
Thee first I lov'd, with thee all love I leav
For my chaste flames, which quench'd were
thy breath,

Cau kindle now no more but in thy grave

SONNET.

I swear, Aurora, by thy starry eyes,

And by those g lden locks, whose lock slips,

And by the coral of thy rosy lips,

And by the naked snows which beauty dyes
I swear by all the jewels of thy mind,
Whose like yet never worldly treasure bo
Thy solid judgment, and thy generous tho

Mounts, vales, woods, flouds, and springs, Which in this darkened age have clearly sh

I shall them onely show.

Ah! unaffected lines,

True models of my heart,

The world may see that in you shines
The power of passion more than art.

I swear by those, and by my spotless love,
And by my secret, yet most fervent fires,
That I have never nurst but chaste desir
And such as modesty might well approve.
Then since I love those virtuous parts in
Shouldst thou not love this virtuous mind i

WILLIAM DRUMMOND.

BORN 1585- DIED 1649.

on which the House of Hawthornden stands,

From the Drummonds of Carnock, after- | "The Cypress Grove;" a prose rhapsody on wards Dukes of Perth, were descended the the vanity of human life, which has been proDrummonds of Hawthornden, a branch rennounced equal to the splendid passages of dered as famous by the poet, as the other has Jeremy Taylor on this sublimest of all earthly been by statesmen and warriors. William topics. If tradition may be credited, it was Drummond, son of Sir John Drummond, was composed in one of the caves in the lofty cliff born at Hawthornden, December 13, 1585. He was educated at the recently founded University of Edinburgh, and being designed by his father for the legal profession, was in the year 1606 sent, in accordance with the custom of that day, to France to prosecute the study He appears to have been a most

of the law.

diligent student, studying with great assiduity, taking notes of the lectures which he attended, and writing observations of his own upon them. That he was well fitted for this profession is not left to conjecture. The learned President Lockhart, on being shown these manuscripts, declared that if Drummond had followed the law" he might have made the best figure of any lawyer of his time." In 1610 his father, Sir John, died, and he returned to Scotland to take possession of an independent inheritance, as Laird of Hawthornden, at the same time deciding to look for happiness in rural life and

literary pursuits.

and which is to this day called "The Cypress Grove." About this time, and while in the same frame of mind, he wrote what he called "Flowers of Zion; or Spiritual Poems." The publication of these volumes brought Drummond great fame, and led to a familiar cor

respondence with several of the literary magnates of his day, among whom may be mentioned Ben Jonson, Michael Drayton, Dr. Arthur John

ston the Latin poet, and the Earls of Ancrum and Stirling. Drayton in an elegy on the English poets takes occasion to speak of Drummond with much distinction.

The most remarkable incident connected

with the literary life of the Laird of Hawthornden, was the visit which the great dramatist "Rare Ben Jonson" paid to him in the spring of 1619. The Scottish poet kept notes of the opinions expressed by his distinguished guest,

and chronicled some of his personal failings.

He said, "Shakspere wanted art,

A more lovely spot for a poet's retreat we Jonson alludes to all the contemporary poets never saw in or out of Scotland. "Classic and dramatists; but the most singular of all Hawthornden," Sir Walter called it. Within is his reference to Shakspere, of whom he a small space are combined all the elements of speaks with as little reverence as of any of the sublime and picturesque scenery, and in the others. immediate neighbourhood is Roslyn Castle, one of the most interesting of Gothie ruins. In this charming retreat Drummond gave himself up to the study of the poets of Greece and Rome, of modern Italy and France; and to the formation upon them of an English

style of his own.
His earliest publication of

which we have any knowledge, is a volume of
poems of the date of 1616, when he was in his
This volume, however, is

thirty-first year.
stated in the title to be the second edition.

His next work was

and sometimes sense; for in one of his plays he brought a number of men, saying they had suffered shipwreck in Bohemia, where is no sea near by an hundred miles." In describing Jonson Drummond says, "He was a great lover and praiser of himself, a contemner and

scorner of others, given rather to lose a friend

than a jest; jealous of every word and action of those about him, especially after drink, which is one of the elements in which he lived;

a dissembler of the parts which reign in him; produced after his recovery a bragger of some good that he wanted; think

from a dangerous illness, and was entitled ing nothing well done, but what either he