Here, besides the sorrowing

That thy noble house doth bring,
Here be tears of perfect moan
Wept for thee in Helicon,

And some flowers, and some bays,
For thy herse, to strow the ways
Sent thee from the bancs of Came,
Devoted to thy virtuous name;

Whilst thou, bright Saint, high sitst in glory,

Next her much like to thee in story,

That fair Syrian shepherdess,

Who after years of barrenness,

The highly favor'd Joseph bore

To him that serv'd for her before,

And at her next birth much like thee,
Through pangs fled to felicity,

Far within the bosom bright
Of blazing Majesty and Light:

There with thee, new welcome Saint,
Like fortunes may her soul acquaint,
With thee there clad in radiant sheen,
No Marchioness, but now a Queen.

60

IX.

SONG.

ON

MAY MORNING.

NOW the bright morning star, day's harbinger; Comes dancing from the east, and leads with her The flow'ry May, who from her green lap throws The yellow cowslip, and the pale primrose. Hail bounteous May that dost inspire Mirth and youth and warm desire; Woods and groves are of thy dressing, Hill and dale doth boast thy blessing. Thus we salute thee with our early song, And welcome thee, and wish thee long.

10

WHAT needs my Shakespear for his honor'd bones

The labor of an age in piled stones,

Or that his hallow'd reliques should be hid,

Under a star-ypointing pyramid?

Dear son of memory, great heir of fame,

What need'st thou such weak witness of thy name?

Thou in our wonder an astonishment

Hast built thyself a live-long monument.
For whilst to th' shame of slow-endevoring art
Thy easy numbers flow, and that each heart
Hath from the leaves of thy unvalued book
Those Delphic lines with deep impression took,
Then thou our fancy or itself bereaving,
Dost make us marble with too much conceiving;
And so sepulcher'd in such pomp dost lie,
That kings for such a tomb would wish to die.

10

XI.

ON THE UNIVERSITY CARRIER,

Who sicken'd in the time of his vacancy, being forbid to go to London, by reason of the plague.

HERE lies old Hobson: Death hath broke his girt, And here alas, hath laid him in the dirt, Or else the ways being foul, twenty to one, He's here stuck in a slough, and overthrown. 'Twas such a shifter, that if truth were known, Death was half glad when he had got him down ; For he had any time this ten years full Dodg'd with him, betwixt Cambridge and the Bull. And surely death could never have prevail'd, Had not his weekly course of carriage fail'd;

10

But lately finding him so long at home,

And thinking now his journey's end was come,
And that he had ta'en up his latest inn,

In the kind office of a chamberlin

Show'd him his room where he must lodge that night,

Pull'd off his boots and took away the light:

If any ask for him, it shall be said,
Hobson has supt, and's newly gone to bed.

XII.

ANOTHER ON THE SAME.

HERE lieth one, who did most truly prove
That he could never die while he could move;
So hung his destiny, never to rot,

While he might still jog on and keep his trot,
Made of sphere-metal, never to decay
Until his revolution was at stay.

Time numbers motion, (yet without a crime
'Gainst old truth) motion number'd out his time;
And like an engin mov'd with wheel and weight,
His principles being ceas'd, he ended strait.
Rest that gives all men life, gave him his death,
And too much breathing put him out of breath;
Nor were it contradiction to affirm

Too long vacation hasten'd on his term.

10

Merely to drive the time away he sicken'd,

20

Fainted, and died, nor would with ale be quicken'd;
Nay, quoth he, on his swooning bed out-stretch'd,
If I may'nt carry, sure I'll ne'er be fetch'd,
But vow, though the cross doctors all stood hearers,
For one carrier put down to make six bearers.
Ease was his chief disease, and to judge right,
He dy'd for heaviness that his cart went light:
His leisure told him that his time was come,
And lack of load made his life burdensome,

That ev'n to his last breath (there be that say't)
As he was press'd to death, he cry'd more weight;
But had his doings lasted as they were,

He had been an immortal carrier.
Obedient to the moon he spent his date
In course reciprocal, and had his fate
Link'd to the mutual flowing of the seas,

Yet (strange to think) his wain was his increase:
His letters are deliver'd all and gone,

Only remains this superscription.

30

XIII.

L'ALLEGRO.

HENCE loathed Melancholy,

Of Cerberus and blackest Midnight born, In Stygian cave forlorn