prose known to me, except, perhaps, a passage of the old English divines at their best." The poetical portion of the volume is a continuation of the class entitled "Urania” in his second publication, some of which reappear in a revised form in this. It is supposed that in 1625 he revisited the Continent for about a twelvemonth, but in 1627 he appears in an entirely new character, that of the patentee of several mechanical inventions, mostly of a warlike character, the names of which may excite a smile, but the principles of some of them, so far as we can judge from the description, are anticipations of inventions that have since been reduced to practice, as the Wind Measurer, and Ship Fountain, for converting salt water into fresh. An event which brought him more lasting credit, and perhaps cost less, is also referable to this year, namely his presentation of about 500 volumes, and some MSS., to the Edinburgh University Library. This donation he again augmented in 1629 and 1630, and the collection is still carefully preserved in a separate cabinet. After a few years spent from home, he returned in 1632, and in his fortysixth year got married to Elizabeth Logan, in whom he fancied he saw a resemblance to his long lost Miss Cunningham. Some doubt exists as to his wife's family, one account making her the grand-daughter of Sir Robert Logan of Restalrig, near Edinburgh, and another, the daughter of the Rev. Mr Logan, parish minister of Eddleston. After his marriage, Drummond relinquished poetry, and wrote a sectional History of Scotland, from 1423 to 1542, known as the History of The Five Jameses. He is supposed to have been incited to this undertaking by his brother-in-law, Sir John Scott oí Scotstarvet, who took a patriotic interest in Scottish literature. As a history it is reckoned of little value. After this he became somewhat equivocally involved in the trying political currents that intersected the latter part of Charles' reign; and, without being a zealous partisan, took the royal side of the contest. But the collapse of Montrose's brilliant and meteor-like career in Scotland put an end to the hopes of the royalists. Drummond, though a sympathiser in his victories, and in correspondence with the gallant cavalier and fellow poet, was not disturbed by the opposite party, yet he was much affected by the King's death, whom he survived less than a year. He died on the 4th December 1649, in his 65th year, and was buried in the family aisle in the church of Lasswade. He was survived by his wife and three children out of a family of nine. Hawthornden has passed out of the poet's lineage, but is still in possession of a namesake, and shall always retain his memory. All Drummond's manuscripts, arranged by Dr David Laing, and bound in fifteen volumes, are in the possession of the Society of Antiquaries of Scotland. A standard quarto edition of his Poems was edited by Lord Dundrennan and Dr Irving for the Maitland Club in 1832; but two smaller editions, one in 1833, and the other in 1856, have since been published. An exhaustive Life, by Professor Masson, was published in 1873. [From the First Part.] SONNET. In my first years, and prime yet not at When sweet conceits my wits did entertain, SONNET. Fair is my yoke, though grievous be my pains, Sweet are my wounds, although they deeply smart, My bit is gold, though shortened be the reins, My bondage brave, though may not depart : Although I burn, the fire which doth impart Those flames, so sweet reviving force contains, That, like Arabia's bird, my wasted heart, Made quick by death, more lively still remains. Love smil'd to see in what an awful guise sighs but breath) Joy on this living book to read my death. SONNET. I know that all beneath the moon decays, And what by mortals in this world is brought, In Time's great periods shall return to nought; That fairest states have fatal nights and days; I know how all the Muse's heavenly lays, As idle sounds, of few or none are sought, That love a jarring is of minds' accords, Know what I list, this all can not me move, tears, I never want delight, even when I groan, Thus every way contentment strange I But most in her rare beauty, my rare mind. SONNET. How that vast heaven intitled First is If any other worlds beyond it lie, Or essence pure that doth this all uphold; The wand'ring carbuncles which shine By sprights, or bodies, contrariwise in sky But that, O me! I both must write and With borrowed beams looks on this hang What cause fair Iris hath, and monsters seen Her either cheek resembl'd a blushing morn, In air's large fields of light, and seas pro- Or roses gules in field of lilies borne, SONNET. That learned Grecian, who did so excel nam'd Of all the after-worlds divine, doth tell, That at the time when first our souls are fram'd, Ere in these mansions blind they come to dwell, They live bright rays of that eternal light, Not toil'd with aught to reason doth rebel. SONG. roses, The rubies pale, when mouth's sweet cherry closes. Her chin like silver Phœbe did appear Dark in the midst to make the rest more clear; Her neck seemed fram'd by curious Most smooth, most white, a piece of ala- Two foaming billows flow'd upon her breast, Which did their tops with coral red encrest; There all about, as brooks them sport at leisure, With circling branches veins did swell in azure: Within those crooks are only found those isles Which Fortunate the dreaming old world The rest the streams did hide, but as a lily Her hair, more bright than are the I, who yet human weakness did not know, morning's beams, Hang in a golden shower above the streams, to cover, Which seen did straight a sky of milk dis cover, For yet I had not felt that archer's bow, water The winged youngling burning flames could scatter, On every part my vagabonding sight With two fair brows, love's bows, which Did cast, and drown mine eyes in sweet never bend, But that a golden arrow forth they send; glancing, delight. What wondrous thing is this that beauty's named? Said I; I find I heretofore have dreamed, Flash'd flames of love, for love there still And never known in all my flying days Good unto this, that only merits praise. is dancing. My pleasures have been pains, my comforts crosses, My treasures poverty, my gains but losses. O precious sight! which none doth else descry, Except the burning sun, and quivering I. And yet, O dear-bought sight! O would for ever I might enjoy you, or had joy'd you never! And sith ye may not aye your bliss embrace, Draw thousand portraits of her on your face, Portraits which in my heart be more apparent, If like to yours my breast but were transparent. O that I were, while she doth in you play, From Thule to Ind though I should with her wander. Oh! what is this? the more I fix mine eye, Mine eye the more new wonders doth espy; The more I spy, the more in uncouth fashion My soul is ravish'd in a pleasant passion. But look not, eyes: as more I would have said, A sound of whirling wheels me all dismay'd, And with the sound forth from the timorous bushes, With storm-like course, a sumptuous chariot rushes: A chariot all of gold, the wheels were gold, The nails and axle gold on which it roll'd; The upmost part a scarlet veil did cover, More rich than Danae's lap spread with her lover: In midst of it, in a triumphing chair, A lady sat miraculously fair, Whose pensive countenance, and looks of honour, Do more allure the mind that thinketh on her, Than the most wanton face and amorous eyes, That Amathus or flowr'y Paphos sees. Such Thetis is, when to the billows' roar With mermaids nice she danceth on the shore : So in a sable night the sun's bright sister Among the lesser twinkling lights doth glister. Fair yokes of ermelines, whose colour pass The whitest snows on agèd Grampius' face, More swift than Venus' birds this chariot guided To the astonish'd bank whereat it bided: But long it did not bide, when pour those streams Ay me! it made, transporting these rich gems, And by that burthen lighter, swiftly drived Till, as me thought, it at a tower arrived. SONNET. O sacred blush, impurpling cheeks' pure skies With crimson wings which spread thee like the morn; O bashful look, sent from those shining eyes, Which, though cast down on earth, couldst heaven adorn; O tongue, in which most luscious nectar lies, That can at once both bless and make forlorn ; Dear coral lip, which beauty beautifies, That trembling stood ere that her words were born, And you her words, words! no, but golden Earth's silent daughter, night, is fair, chains, though brown ; Which did captive mine ears, ensnare my Fair is the moon though in love's livery soul, cled; Fair Chloris is when she doth paint Fair are the meads, the woods, the floods Fair looketh Ceres with her yellow hair, And apples' queen when rose-cheek'd she doth smile. That heaven, and earth, and seas are fair is true, Yet true that all not please so much as you. MADRIGAL. When as she smiles I find Brings to our world a flow'ry Paradise: So much both do me please, Like love to see her smile, or pity mourn. [From the Second Part.] Leave then laments, and think thou didst Laws to that first eternal cause to give, To western worlds when wearied day Which can not err, whatever foggy mists goes down, And from Heaven's windows each star shows her head, Do blind men in these sublunary lists. But what if she for whom thou spend'st those groans, |