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but stay-o spite!

but mark-poor knight,

what dreadful dole is here ?

eyes, do you see?

how can it be?

o dainty duck! o dear!
thy mantle good,
what, stained with blood?
approach, ye furies fell!

o fates, come, come!
cut thread, and thrum !

quail, crush, conclude, and quell!


To Sir Henry Vane the younger.

ANE, young in years, but in sage counsel old, than whom a better senator ne'er held

the helm of Rome, when gowns, not arms, repelled

the fierce Epirot, and the African bold;

whether to settle peace, or to unfold

the drift of hollow states hard to be spelled; then to advise how war may best upheld

move by her two main nerves, iron and gold,

in all her equipage: besides to know

both spiritual power and civil, what each means,

what severs each, thou hast learned, which few have done. the bounds of either sword to thee we owe: therefore on thy firm hand religion leans

in peace, and reckons thee her eldest son.


ἀτὰρ οὐχὶ μενεῖς; φεῦ τῆς ὕβρεως
ὦ δύσμορ ̓ ἐράστ', οὐχὶ κατόψει;
τί τόδ' αὖ φοβερὸν φρικώδες ὁρᾶν ;
ή τήνδε θέαν λεύσσετον, ὄμματε ;
πῶς δέ, νεόττιον,

ὦ νηττάριον, τάδ' ἂν εἴη;
τὸ δ ̓ ἀμώμητον στάζειν αἵματι
σὴν ἀμπεχύνην. ἐπιχαιρέκακοι
δεῦρ ̓ ἴτ' Ερινύες· ἔλθετε Μοῖραι
τέμνετε λήνεα, τέμνετε πηνία
κείρετε καίνετε

κακθλίβετε, κατα πεπαύσθω.

R. S.

Secundis temporibus dubiisque rectus. RIMAEVUS annis, consiliis senex, tu, Vane, Musa teste vocaberis, quo non gubernaclum senator Romuleum melior tenebat, quando peritae vox sapiens togae, non vis sagati militis, efferum certamen Epiri refregit

et Libyae furiale robur ; seu firma suades foedera, seu doces calumniantis quid populi tegant incepta, seu munire nervis

militiam properas duobus

ferrique et auri. quid statuat sacrum, civile quid ius, quosque habeant modos, haut ista te fallunt sagacem

discere quae didicere pauci. utrique fines tu gladio suos


ergo stat tibi maximo

confisa natorum tuaque relligio stabilita dextra.


Delays are dangerous.

HUN delays, they breed remorse,
take thy time while time is lent thee,
creeping snails have weakest force,

fly their fault lest thou repent thee.
good is best when soonest wrought,
lingred labours come to nought.
Hoise up sail while gale doth last,
tide and wind stay no man's pleasure;
seek not time when time is past,

sober speed is wisdom's leisure. afterwits are dearly bought, let thy forewit guide thy thought. Time wears all his locks before,

take thy hold upon his forehead; when he flies he turns no more,

and behind he shews a bare head. works adjourned have many stays, long demurs breed new delays. Seek thy salve while sore is green,

festred wounds ask deeper lancing, after-cures are seldom seen,

often sought scarce ever chancing. time and place give best advice, out of season out of price.

Oliver Cromwell.

LD Oliver 's gone to the dogs

oh no, I do mistake:


he's gone in a wherry over the ferry

is call'd the Stygian lake.

but Cerberus, that great porter,

did read him such a lecture,

that made him to roar when he came on shore for being Lord Protector.


Pelle moram.

OLLE moras, dolor unde tibi succrescet amarus,
arripe labentem, dum sinit hora, diem :
reptanti cocleae vis est tenuissima, quarum,
ne pigeat, noli criminis esse reus.

sunt bona quae temptas? cito perfice, et optima fient: occidit ad uilum quem remorere labor.

pande sinus, tua vela dato spirantibus auris ;
nullius arbitrio pontus et auster eunt:

neu pete praeteritam, quando semel avolat, horam ;
sobrius adproperas ? otia nacte, sapis.
stat magno bona mens Epimetheos empta; fac ergo
arte Promethea tu tua corda regas.

omnes ante gerit crinita fronte capillos

tempus; in adverso vertice fige manum : nec respectanti iam, cum fugit, aufugit ore ; levis et occipiti nudaque calva patet. multimodis pendent opera interrupta, diuque versavisse novas est generasse moras. vulnere iam crudo medicamina quaere: secandum altius hoc, quotiens inveterascet, erit : vix ratiost remedi, cum iam sanata gravescunt; saepe quidem petitur, saepe petita fugit. sunt consulta loco, sunt tempore capta, iuvabunt; intempestivast merx, ego nullus emo.


H. A. J. M.

Παφλαγὼν ἔρρει. μῶν ἐς κόρακας ;
τὸ μὲν οὖν τούτου σαφὲς ὡς εἰπεῖν,
ἐν πλοιαρίῳ διὰ τὸν πορθμὸν
Στυγίας λίμνης, ἣν ὀνομάζουσ',
ἐπεραιώθη. καὶ σχόντ ̓ ἐπὶ γῆν
ὁ μέγας Κέρβερος, οὑπὶ θύραις στάς,
ἐφρένωσέ νιν ὧδ ̓ ἔστ ̓ οἰμώζειν
μάκρ ̓ ἐποίησεν πατρίδος αἴας

ὡς ἐτυράννευσ'
ἔκνομος ὢν δημοπίθηκος.

C. H. G.

The Portress of Hell-gate.

HE key of this infernal pit by due,

and by command of heaven's all-powerful king, I keep, by him forbidden to unlock these adamantine gates; against all force Death ready stands to interpose his dart, fearless to be o'ermatch'd by living might. but what owe I to his commands above who hates me, and hath hither thrust me down into this gloom of Tartarus profound,

to sit in hateful office here confined,
inhabitant of heaven and heavenly-born,
here in perpetual agony and pain,

with terrours and with clamours compassed round
of mine own brood, that on my bowels feed?
thou art my father, thou my author, thou
my being gav'st me; whom should I obey

but thee? whom follow? thou wilt bring me soon
to that new world of light and bliss, among
the gods who live at ease, where I shall reign
at thy right hand voluptuous, as beseems
thy daughter and thy darling, without end.



ILL ye gae to the ewe-bughts, Marion,
and wear in the sheep wi' me?

the sun shines sweet, my Marion,

but nae half sae sweet as thee.

oh, Marion's a bonny lass,

and the blythe blink's in her e'e;
and fain wad I marry Marion,
gin Marion wad marry me.
I've nine milch ewes, my Marion,
a cow, and a brawnie quey;
I'se gie them a' to my Marion
just on her bridal day.

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