Of lively portraiture display'd,
Softly on my eyelids laid.
And as I wake, sweet music breathe
Above, about, or underneath,
Sent by some spirit to mortals good,
Or th' unseen genius of the wood.

But let my due feet never fail
To walk the studious cloister's pale,
And love the high embowed roof
With antique pillars massy proof,
And storied windows richly dight,
Casting a dim religious light:
There let the peeling organ blow
To the full-voiced quire below,
In service high and anthems clear,
As may with sweetness through mine ear
Dissolve me into ecstacies,
And bring all heaven before mine eyes !

And may, at last, my weary age
Find out the peaceful hermitage,
The hairy gown and mossy cell,
Where I may sit and rightly spell
Of every star that heav'n doth shew,
And every herb that sips the dew ;
Till old experience do attain
To something like prophetic strain-
These pleasures, Melancholy, give,
And I with thee will choose to live.

MILTON.

Peace of Mind secured.
The solid joys of human kind
Are those that flow from peace of mind ;
For who the sweets of life can taste,
With vice and tim'rous guilt opprest?
'Tis virtue softens all our toils,

With peace our conscience crowns ;
Gives pleasure when our fortune smiles,

And courage when it frowns ; Calms ev'ry trouble, makes the soul serene, Smooths the contracted brow, and cheers the

heart within.

COTTON.

The Sergeant and the friar.

Wyse men alway
Affyrme and say,

That best is for a man
Diligently
For to apply

The business that he can.'

And in no wyse
To enterpryse

Another faculte;
For he that wyll,
And can no skyll,

Is neuer lyke to the.?
I knows.

36

THE SERGEANT AND THE FRIAR.

He that hath lafte
The hosiers crafte,

And falleth to making shone ;)
The smythe that shall
To payntyng fall,

His thrift is well nigh done.

A marchaunt eke5

That wyll go seke, 3 shoes.

Or he could pas,

Rapped about the pate,

Whyle that he would
See how he could

A little play the frere : 8
Now yf you wyll
Know how it fyll,

Take hede and ye shall here.

Now masters all,
Here now I shall

Ende there as I began :
In any wyse
I would auise

And counsayle euery man,

His owne crafte use,
All newe refuse,

And lyghtly let them gone :
Play not the frere.

Now make good chere,
And welcome euerych one.

SIR THOMAS MORE.

The Cathedral.

Oft on the HALLOW'D PILES I love to gaze

Which our forefathers built- whether the round

Deep arch, and massive pillars quaintly crown'd, Of Norman grandeur ; or, if home-born, praise