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And yet whose force fear I ? have I so lost
Myself ? my strength too with my innocence ?
Come, try who dares, heaven, earth, whate'er dost
A borrow'd being, make thy bold defence. [boast

Come thy Creator too, what though it cost
Me yet a second fall? we'd try our strengths.

Heavens saw us struggle once : as brave a fight
Earth now shall see, and tremble at the sight.


(Born, 1605. Died, 1654.]

The mother of this poet, who was daughter to ceptor. Of the subsequent course of his life Lord Morley, is reported to have written the nothing more seems to be on record than his famous letter of warning, in consequence of marriage and his literary works. The latter which the gunpowder plot was discovered. His consisted of effusions entitled Castara, the poetical father, who had been suspected of a share in name of his mistress ; the Queen of Arragon, Babington's conspiracy, and who had owed his

a tragi-comedy ; a History of Edward IV.; and release to his being godson to Queen Elizabeth, Observations upon History. was a second time imprisoned, and condemned to Habington became a poet from the courtship death on the charge of having concealed some of of the lady whom he married, Lucy, daughter to the agents in the gunpowder plot ; but by Lord Lord Powis. There is no very ardent sensibility Morley's interest was pardoned, on condition of in his lyrics, but they denote a mind of elegant confining himself to Worcestershire, of which and chaste sentiments. He is free as any of the county he lived to write a voluminous history. minor poets of his age from the impurities which

The family were catholics ; and his son, the were then considered as wit. He is indeed poet, was sent to St. Omer's, we are told, with a rather ostentatiously platonic, but his love lanview to make him a Jesuit, which he declined.) guage is far from being so elaborate as the comThe same intention never failed to be ascribed plimentary gallantry of the preceding age. A to all English families who sent their children to respectable gravity of thought, and succinct that seminary. On his return from the Continent fluency of expression, are observable in the he lived chiefly with his father, who was his pre poems of his later life.

And yet these attributes might prove
Fuel enough t'inflame desire ;
But there was something from above,
Shot without reason's guide, this fire.
I know, yet know not, why I love.



Why doth the stubborn iron prove
So gentle to th’ magnetic stone?
How know you that the orbs do move ;
With music too? since heard of none !
And I will answer why I love.
'Tis not thy virtues, each a star
Which in thy soul's bright sphere do shine,
Shooting their beauties from afar,
To make each gazer's heart like thine ;
Our virtues often meteors are.
'Tis not thy face, I cannot spy,
When poets weep some virgin's death,
That Cupid wantons in her eye,
Or perfumes vapour from her breath,
And 'mongst the dead thou once must lie.
Nor is't thy birth. For I was ne'er
So vain as in that to delight :
Which, balance it, no weight doth bear,
Nor yet is object to the sight,
But only fills the vulgar ear.
Nor yet thy fortunes : since I know
They, in their motion like the sea
Ebb from the good, to the impious flow :
And so in flattery betray,
That raising they but overthrow.

The soul which doth with God unite,
Those gaieties how doth she slight

Which o'er opinion sway!
Like sacred virgin wax, which shines
On altars or on martyrs' shrines,

How doth she burn away!
How violent are her throes till she
From envious earth deliver'd be,

Which doth her flight restrain !
Hlow doth she doat on whips and racks,
On fires, and the so dreaded axe,

And every murdering pain !
How soon she leaves the pride of wealth,
The flatteries of youth and health,

And fame's more precious breath ;
And every gaudy circumstance
That doth the pomp of life advance,

At the approach of death!

To think this breathless body must Become a loathsome heap of dust,

And ne'er again appear.

For in the fire when ore is tried,
And by that torment purified,

Do we deplore the loss ?
And when thou shalt my soul refine,
That it thereby may purer shine,

Shall I grieve for the dross ?



A Tragi-Comedy.

The cunning of astrologers
Observes each motion of the stars,

Placing all knowledge there :
And lovers in their mistress' eyes
Contract those wonders of the skies,

And seek no higher sphere.
The wandering pilot sweats to find
The causes that produce the wind,

Still gazing on the pole.
The politician scorns all art
But what doth pride and power impart,

And swells the ambitious soul.
But he whom heavenly fire doth warm,
And 'gainst these powerful follies arm,

Doth soberly disdain
All these fond human mysteries
As the deceitful and unwise

Distempers of our brain.
He as a burden bears his clay,
Yet vainly throws it not away

On every idle cause :
But with the same untroubled eye
Can or resolve to live or die,

Regardless of th' applause.
My God! if 'tis thy great decree
That this must the last moment be

Wherein I breathe this air ;
My heart obeys, joy'd to retreat
From the false favours of the great,

And treachery of the fair.
When thou shalt please this soul t'enthrone
Above impure corruption ;

What should I grieve or fear,

Nor the Phoenix in his death,

Nor those banks where violets grow,

And Arabian winds still blow,
Yield a perfume like her breath.

But O! marriage makes the spell,
And ’tis poison if I smell.

The twin-beauties of the skies,

(When the half-sunk sailors haste

To rend sail, and cut their mast,) Shine not welcome, as her eyes.

But those beams, than storms more black,

If they point at me, I wrack. Then for fear of such a fire,

Which kills worse than the long night

Which benumbs the Muscovite,
I must from my life retire.

But O no! for if her eye
Warm me not, I freeze, and die.

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John Hall was born at Durham, and edu been some time at the bar when he died in his cated at St. John's College, Cambridge, where in twenty-ninth year. 1616 he published a volume of verses. He had


Still Herald of the Morn! whose ray,
Being page and usher to the day,
Doth mourn behind the sun, before him play ;
Who sett'st a golden signal ere
The bark retire, the lark appear,
The early cocks cry comfort, screech-owls fear.
Who wink’st while lovers plight their troth,
Then falls asleep, while they are loth
To part without a more engaging oath ;

Steal in a message to the eyes
Of Julia, tell her that she lies
Too long,--thy lord, the Sun, will quickly rise.
Yet it is midnight still with me,
Nay worse, unless that kinder she
Smile day, and in my zenith seated be !
But if she will obliquely run,
I needs a calenture must shun,
And, like an Ethiopian, hate my sun.


(Born, 1819. Died, Jan. 11, 1689. ]

I BELIEVE the only notice of this poet that is sions of this romantic tablet, and make us catch to be found is in Langbaine, who informs us that them only by glimpses. I am well aware that he was a physician at Shaftesbury, in Dorset from a story so closely interwoven a few selected shire, in the reigns of Charles I. and II. He

passages, while they may be more than sufficient wrote a single tragi-comedy,“ Love's Victory," to exemplify the faults, are not enough to diswhich was acted after the Restoration under the cover the full worth of Chamberlayne. His new title of “Wits led by the Nose, or the Poet's sketches, already imperfect, must appear still Revenge.” His Pharonnida, an heroic poem, in more so in the shape of fragments; we must five books, which Langbaine says has nothing to peruse the narrative itself to appreciate the rich recommend it, is one of the most interesting breadth and variety of its scenes, and we must stories that was ever told in verse, and contained perhaps accustom our vision to the thick medium so much amusing matter as to be made into a of its uncouth style to enjoy the power and pathos prose novel in the reign of Charles II. What of his characters and situations. Under all the Dr. Johnson said unjustly of Milton's Comus, that defects of the poem, the reader will then indeed it was like gold hid under a rock, may unfor feel its unfinished hints affect the heart and tunately be applied with too much propriety dilate the imagination. From the fate of Chamto Pharonnida. Never perhaps was so much berlayne a young poet may learn one important beautiful design in poetry marred by infelicity lesson, that he who neglects the subsidiary graces of execution : his ruggedness of versification, of taste has every chance of being neglected by abrupt transitions, and a style that is at once posterity, and that the pride of genius must not slovenly and quaint, perpetually interrupted in prompt him to disdain the study of harmony and enjoying the splendid figures and spirited pas of style.


Argalia being brought before the Princess Pharonnida on a false accusation of murder, they fall in love with each

Yet, though now depressid other, although the Princess is obliged, with a reluctant heart, to condemn him on false evidence.

Even in opinion, which oft proves the best

Support to those whose public virtues we
Higl mounted on an ebon throne on which Adore before their private guilt we see,
Th' embellish'd silver show'd so sadly rich His noble soul still wings itself above
As if its varied form strove to delight

Passion's dark fogs; and like that prosperous dove
Those solemn souls which death-pale fear did fright, The world's first pilot, for discovery sent,
In Tyrian purple clad, the princess sate,

When all the floods that bound the firmament Between two sterner ministers of fate,

O'erwhelm’d the earth, conscience calm joys to Impartial judges, whose distinguish'd tasks

increase, Their various habit to the view unmasks.

Returns, freight with the olive branch of peace. One, in whose looks, as pity strove to draw Thus fortified from all that tyrant fear Compassion in the tablets of the law,

O'erawed the guilty with, he doth appear. Some softness dwelt, in a majestic vest

Not all Of state-like red was clothed ; the other, dressid His virtues now protect him, he must fall In dismal black, whose terrible aspect

A guiltless sacrifice, to expiate Declared his office, served but to detect

No other crime but their envenom'd hate. Her slow consent, if, when the first forsook An ominous silence-such as oft precedes The cause, the law so far as death did look. The fatal sentence_while the accuser reads Silence proclaim'd, a harsh command calls forth

His charge, possess’d the pitying court in which Th’undaunted prisoner, whose excelling worth Presaging calm Pharonnida, too rich In this low ebb of fortune did appear

In mercy, heaven's supreme prerogative, Such as we fancy virtues that come near

To stifle tears, did with her passion strive The excellence of angels-fear had not

So long, that what at first assaulted in Rifled one drop of blood, nor rage begot

Sorrow's black armour, had so often been More colour in his cheeks—his soul in state, For pity cherish'd, that at length her eyes Throned in the medium, constant virtue sat. Found there those spirits that did sympathise

With those that warm'd her blood, and unseen,move Which might preserve our name, which only now That engine of the world, mysterious love.

Must in our dusty annals live; whilst thou

Transfer'st the glory of our house on one, The beauteous princess, whose free soul had been Which had not I warm'd into life, had gone, Yet guarded in her virgin ice, and now

A wretch forgotten of the world, to th' earth [birth A stranger is to what she doth allow

From whence he sprung? But tear this monstrous Such easy entrance. By those rays that fall Of fancy from thy soul, quick as thou’dst fly From either's eyes, to make reciprocal

Descending wrath if visible, or I Their yielding passions, brave Argalia felt, Shall blast thee with my anger till thy name Even in the grasp of death, his functions melt Rot in my memory; not as the same To flames, which on his heart an onset make That once thou wert behold thee, but as some For sadness, such as weary mortals take

Dire prodigy, which to foreshow should come Eternal farewells in. Yet in this high

All ills which through the progress of my life Tide of his blood, in a soft calm to die,

Did chance were sent. I lost a queen and wife, His yielding spirits now prepare to meet (sheet. Thy virtuous mother, who for goodness might Death, clothed in thoughts white as his winding Have here supplied, before she took her fight That fatal doom, which unto heaven affords To heaven, my better angel's place ; have since The sole appeal, one of the assisting lords

Stood storms of strong affliction ; still a prince Had now pronounced whose horrid thunder could Over my passions until now, but this Not strike his laurelld brow; that voice which Hath proved me coward. Oh! thou dost amiss Have petrified a timorous soul, he hears [would To grieve me thus, fond girl.”—With that he shook With calm attention. No disorder'd fears His reverend head ; beholds her with a look Ruftled his fancy, nor domestic war

Composed of grief and anger, which she sees Raged in his breast ; his every look so far With melting sorrow; but resolved love frees From vulgar passions, that, unless, amazed Her from more yielding pityAt beauty's majesty he sometime gazed

She falls Wildly on that as emblems of more great

Prostrate at's feet; to his remembrance calls Glories than earth afforded, from the seat

Her dying mother's will, by whose pale dust Of resolution his fix'd soul had not

She now conjures him not to be unjust Been stirr'd to passion, which had now begot Unto that promise, with which her pure soul Wonder, not fear, within him. No harsh frown Fled satisfied from earth-as to control Contracts his brow; nor did his thoughts pull down Her freedom of affection.One fainting spirit, wrapt in smother'd groans,

She then To clog his heart. From her most eminent thrones Calls to remembrance who relieved him when Of sense, the eyes, the lightning of his soul Distress'd within Aleythius' walls; the love Flew with such vigour forth, it did control His subjects bore Argalia, which might prove All weaker passions, and at once include

Her choice her happiness ; with all, how great With Roman valour Christian fortitude.

A likelihood, it was but the retreat
Of royalty to a more safe disguise
Had show'd him to their state's deluded eyes
So mean a thing. Love's boundless rhetoric

About to dictate more, he, with a quick
The father of Pharonnida, having discovered her at-

And furious haste, forsakes the room, his rage tachment to Argalia, breaks into rage and thus threat Thus boiling o'er_“And must my wretched age ens her.

Be thus by thee tormented ? but take heed, Silent with passion, which his eyes inflamed,

Correct thy passions, or their cause must bleed, The prince awhile beholds her ere he blamed Until he quench the flame—The frailty of affection ; but at length,

• Her soul, oppressid, Through the quick throng of thoughts, arm’d with Sinks in a pale swoon, catching at the rest a strength,

It must not yet enjoy ; swift help lends light, Which crush'd the soft paternal smiles of love,

Though faint and glimmering, to behold what night He thus begins_“And must, О must that prove

Of grief o'ershadow'd her. You that have been My greatest curse on which my hopes ordain'd Upon the rack of passion, tortured in To raise my happiness ? Have I refrain’d

The engines of forbidden love, that have The pleasures of a nuptial bed, to joy

Shed fruitless tears, spent hopeless sighs, to crave Alone in thee, nor trembled to destroy

A rigid parent's fair aspect, conceive My name, so that advancing thine I might

What wild distraction seized her. I must leave Live to behold my sceptre take its flight

Her passions' volume only to be read To a more spacious empire ? Have I spent

Within the breasts of such whose hearts have bled My youth till, grown in debt to age, she hath sent At the like dangerous wounds.Diseases to arrest me that impair My strength and hopes e'er to enjoy an heir,


Their happy champion. Truce proclaim'd, until BOOK III. CANTO III.

The combat ends, th' expecting people fill

The spacious battlements; the Turks forsake Through the dark path of dusty annals we, Their tents, of whom the city ladies take Led by his valour's light, return to see

A dreadful view, till a more noble sight Argalia's story, who hath, since that night Diverts their looks ; each part behold their knight Wherein he took that strange distracted flight With various wishes, whilst in blood and sweat From treacherous Ardenna, perform’d a course They toil for victory. The conflict's heat So full of threat'ning dangers, that the force Raged in their veins, which honour more inflamed Of his protecting angel trembled to

Than burning calentures could do ; both blamed Support his fate, which crack'd the slender clew The feeble influence of their stars, that gave Of destiny almost to death : his stars,

No speedier conquest ; each neglects to save Doubting their influence when such horrid wars Himself, to seek advantage to offend The gods proclaim’d, withdrew their languish'd | His eager foe. beams

But now so long Beneath heaven's spangled arch; in pitchy streams The Turks' proud champion had endured the The heavy clouds unlade their wombs, until

strong The angry winds, fearing the floods should fill

Assaults of the stout Christian, till his strength The air, the region where they ruled, did break Coolid, on the ground, with his blood—he fell at Their marble lodgings ; Nature's self.grew weak

length, With these distemperatures, and seem'd to draw Beneath his conquering sword. The barbarous crew Tow'rd dissolution-her neglected law

O' the villains that did at a distance view Each element forgot. Th’imprison'd flame, Their champion's fall, all bands of truce forgot, When the clouds' stock of moisture could not tame Running to succour him, begin a hot Its violence, in sulph’ry flashes broke

And desperate combat with those knights that stand Thorough the glaring air ; the swoln clouds spoke To aid Argalia, by whose conquering hand In the loud voice of thunder; the sea raves Whole squadrons of them fall, but here he spent And foams with anger, hurls his troubled waves His mighty spirit in vain, their cannons rent High as the moon's dull orb, whose waning light His scatter'd troops. Withdrew to add more terror to the night.

Argalia lies in chains, ordain'd to die

A sacrifice unto the cruelty ARGALIA TAKEN PRISONER BY THE TURKS.

Of the fierce bashaw, whose loved favourite in

The combat late he slew ; yet had not been
The Turks had ought

In that so much unhappy, had not he,
Made desperate onslaughts on the isle, but brought That honour'd then his sword with victory,
Nought back but wounds and infamy ; but now, Half-brother to Janusa been, a bright
Wearied with toil, they are resolved to bow But cruel lady, whose refined delight
Their stubborn resolutions with the strength Her slave (though husband), Ammurat, durst not
Of not-to-be-resisted want : the length

Ruffle with discontent; wherefore, to cool that hot Of the chronical disease extended had

Contention of her blood, which he foresaw To some few months, since to oppress the sad That heavy news would from her anger draw, But constant islanders, the army lay,

To quench with the brave Christian's death, he sent Circling their confines. Whilst this tedious stay Him living to her, that her anger, spent From battle rusts the soldier's valour in

In flaming torments, might not settle in His tainted cabin, there had often been,

The dregs of discontent. Staying to win With all variety of fortune, fought

Some Rhodian castles, all the prisoners were Brave single combats, whose success had brought Sent with a guard into Sardinia, there Honour's unwither'd laurels on the brow

To meet their wretched thraldom. From the rest Of either party ; but the balance, now

Argalia sever'd, soon hopes to be blest Forced by the hand of a brave Turk, inclined With speedy death, though waited on by all Wholly to them. Thrice had his valour shined The hell-instructed torments that could fall In victory's refulgent rays, thrice heard

Within invention's reach ; but he's not yet The shouts of conquest; thrice on his lance appeard Arrived to his period, his unmoved stars sit The heads of noble Rhodians, which had struck Thus in their orbs secured. It was the use A general sorrow 'mongst the knights. All look Of th' Turkish pride, which triumphs in th’abuse Who next the lists should enter ; each desires Of suffering Christians, once, before they take The task were his, but honour now requires The ornaments of nature off, to make A spirit more than vulgar, or she dies

Their prisoners public to the view, that all The next attempt, their valour's sacrifice; Might mock their miseries : this sight did call To prop whose ruins, chosen by the free

Janusa to her palace-window, where, Consent of all, Argalia comes to be

Whilst she beholds them, love resolved to bear

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