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Pluck'd up by some unheedy swain,
Who only thought to crop the flow'r
New shot up from vernal show'r;
But the fair blossom hangs the head
Side-ways, as on a dying bed,

And those pearls of dew she wears
Prove to be presaging tears,
Which the sad morn had let fall
On her hastening funeral.
Gentle Lady, may thy grave
Peace and quiet ever have;
After this thy travail sore
Sweet rest seize thee evermore,
That to give the world increase,
Shorten'd hast thy own life's lease.
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 hearse, to strew the ways,

Sent thee from the banks of Came,

Devoted to thy virtuous name;

Whilst thou, bright Saint, high sitt'st in glory,

Next her, much like to thee in story,

That fair Syrian shepherdess,

Who, after years of barrenness,

47 Lady] Cymbeline, act iv. sc. 2.

'Quiet consummation have,

And renowned be thy grave!' Warton.

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The highly favour'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.




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;

1 star]' Of the bright morning star.' Hen. More's Poems,

p. 322.

1 harbinger] Shakesp. Mids. N. Dream, act iii. sc. ult.

'And yonder shines Aurora's harbinger.'

dancing] Spenser's F. Q. i. v. 2.

'At last the golden oriental gate


Of greatest heaven gan to open faire;
And Phoebus fresh as bridgroome to his mate,
Came dancing forth, shaking his dewy hair.'



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.



WHAT needs my Shakespeare for his honour'd bones,

The labour of an age in piled stones?

Or that his hallow'd reliques should be hid
Under a star-y-pointing pyramid?

Dear son of memory, great heir of fame,


What need'st thou such weak witness of thy name? Thou in our wonder and astonishment

Hast built thyself a live-long monument.

For whilst to th' shame of slow-endeavouring art Thy easy numbers flow, and that each heart Hath from the leaves of thy unvalued book

10 welcome] Chaucer's Knight's Tale, ver. 1511.
'O Maye! with all thy floures and thy grene,
Right welcome be thou, fair freshe May.'



* These lines were prefixed to the folio ed. of Shakespeare's Plays in 1632, but without Milton's name or initials. It is, therefore, the first of his pieces that was published. Warton. 11 unvalued] Invaluable. Rich. III. act i. sc. 4.

'Inestimable stones, unvalued jewels.' Todd.

Those Delphic lines with deep impression took,
Then thou our fancy of itself bereaving,

Dost make us marble with too much conceiving;
And so sepulchred in such pomp dost lie,
That kings for such a tomb would wish to die.



Who sickened 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, 5
Death was half glad when he had got him down;
For he had any time this ten years full,

15 sepulcher'd] So accented in Shakesp. Rape of Lucrece. 'May likewise be sepúlcher'd in thy shade.'


1 Hobson] Seven Champions of Christendom, p. 50. 'Is Hobson there, or Dawson, or Tom Long?' Ellis Lett. on Engl. History, 1st. Ser. iii. 207. Our Hobson and the rest should have been forbidden.' Taylor's (W. Poet.) Works, fol. part ii. p. 188. Oh! quoth hee, I could have gone thither with my neighbour Hobson on foot, like a foole as I was, and I might have rid backe upon my neighbour Jobson's mare, like an asse as I am.'

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;
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:


any ask for him, it shall be said,

Hobson has supp'd, and's newly gone to bed.


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 engine mov'd with wheel and weight,
His principles being ceas'd, he ended straight. 10
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

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