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Part First.

I'LL bid my hyacinth to blow,
I'll teach my grotto green to be;
And sing my true love, all below

The hollow bower, and myrtle tree.

There, all his wild-wood scents to bring,
The sweet South Wind shall wander by;
And, with the music of his wing,
Delight my rustling canopy.

Come to my close and clustering bower,
Thou spirit of a milder clime!
Fresh with the dews of fruit and flower,
Of mountain heath and moory thyme.

With all thy rural echoes come,
Sweet comrade of the rosy day,
Wafting the wild bee's gentle hum,
Or cuckoo's plaintive roundelay!

Where'er thy morning breath has play'd,
Whatever isles of ocean fann'd,

Come to my blossom-woven shade,

Thou wand'ring Wind of fairy land!

For sure from some enchanted isle,

Where Heaven and Love their Sabbath hold,

Where pure and happy spirits smile,

Of beauty's fairest, brightest mould;

From some green Eden of the deep,
Where pleasure's sigh alone is heav'd,
Where tears of rapture lovers weep,
Endear'd, undoubting, undeceiv'd.

From some sweet Paradise afar,

Thy music wanders, distant, lost; Where Nature lights her leading star, And love is never, never cross'd.

Oh! gentle gale of Eden bowers,
If back thy rosy feet should roam,
To revel with the cloudless Hours,

In nature's more propitious home

Name to thy lov'd Elysian groves,

That o'er enchanted spirits twine, A fairer form than cherub loves, And let the name be CAROLINE.

Part Second.

GEM of the crimson-colour'd even,
Companion of retiring day,
Why at the closing gates of heaven,
Beloved star, dost thou delay ?

So fair thy pensile beauty burns,
When soft the tear of twilight flows,
So due thy plighted step returns
To chambers brighter than the rose :

To peace, to pleasure, and to love,
So kind a star thou seem'st to be,
Sure some enamoured orb above

Descends and burns to meet with thee.

Thine is the breathing, blushing hour,
When all unheavenly passions fly;
Chased by the soul-subduing power
Of love's delicious witchery.

Oh! sacred to the fall of day,

Queen of propitious stars, appear!

And early rise, and long delay,
When CAROLINE herself is here.

Shine on her chosen green resort,

Where trees the sunward summit crown; And wanton flowers, that well may court An angel's feet to tread them down.

Shine on her sweetly-scented road,

Thou star of evening's purple dome! That lead'st the nightingale abroad, And guid'st the pilgrim to his home.

Shine, where my charmer's sweeter breath
Embalms thy soft exhaling dew;
Where dying winds a sigh bequeath,
To kiss the cheek of rosy hue.

Where, winnow'd, by the gentle air,
Her silken tresses darkly flow,
And fall upon her brows so fair,

Like shadows on the mountain snow.

Thus, ever thus, at day's decline,
In converse sweet to wander far,
Oh! bring with thee my CAROLINE,
And thou shall be my ruling star!



GAZE not on beauty too much, lest it blast thee; nor too long, lest it blind thee; nor too near, lest it burn thee: if thou like it, it deceives thee; if thou love it, it disturbs thee; if thou lust after it, it destroys thee: if virtue accompany it, it is the heart's paradise; if vice associate it, it is the soul's purgatory; it is the wise man's boon-fire, and the fool's furnace.

CARRY a watchful eye upon those familiars that are either silent at thy faults, or soothe thee in thy frailties, or excuse thee in thy follies; for such are either cowards, or flatterers, or fools: if thou entertain them in prosperity, the coward will leave thee in thy dangers, the flatterer will quit thee in thy adversity, but the fool will never forsake QUARLES.



TRUTH is the glory of time, and the daughter of eternity; a title of the highest grace, and a note of divine nature; she is the life of religion, the light of love, the grace of wit, and the crown of wisdom: she is the beauty of valour, the brightness of honour, the blessing of reason, and the joy of faith: her truth is pure gold, her time is right precious, her word is most gracious, and her will is most glorious; her essence is in God, and her dwelling with his servants; her will in his wisdom, and her work to his glory: she is honoured in love, and graced in constancy; in patience admired, and in charity beloved: she is the angel's worship, the virgin's fame, the saint's bliss, and the mar tyr's crown; she is the king's greatness, and his council's goodness;

his subjects' peace and his kingdom's praise: she is the life of learning, and the light of the law; the honour of trade, and the grace of labour: she hath a pure eye, a plain hand, a piercing wit, and a perfect heart she is wisdom's walk in the way of holiness, and takes up her rest but in the resolution of goodness: her tongue never trips, her heart never faints, her hand never fails, and her faith never fears: her church is without schism, her city without fraud, her court without vanity, and her kingdom without villany. In sum, so infinite is her excellence in the construction of all sense, that I will thus only conclude in the wonder of her worth ;-she is the nature of perfection in the perfection of nature, where God in Christ shews the glory of Christianity. N. BRETON, 1616.


T** L** H**


SLEEP breathes at last from out thee,
My little, patient Boy;
And balmy rest about thee
Smooths off the day's annoy.

I set me down, and think

Of all thy winning ways;
Yet almost wish, with sudden shrink,
That I had less to praise.

Thy sidelong pillowed meekness,
Thy thanks to all that aid

Thy heart in pain and weakness,
Öf fancied faults afraid;

The little trembling hand
That wipes thy quiet tears,

These, these are things that may demand
Dread memories for years.

Sorrows I've had severe ones,
I will not think of now;
And calmly midst my dear ones,
Have wasted with dry brow;
But when thy fingers press
And pat my stooping head,
I cannot bear the gentleness,
The tears are in their bed.

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ETERNAL and Omnipotent Unseen!

Who badst the world with all its lives complete Start from the void and thrill beneath thy feet, Thee I adore with reverence serene;

Here in the fields,-thine own Cathedral meet, Built by thyself-blue-roofed-and hung with green, Wherein all breathing things in concert sweet, Organed by winds, perpetual hymns repeat.

Here hast thou spread that book to every eye,

Whose tongue and truth all-all may read and prove;

On whose three blessed leaves Earth-Ocean-Sky,

Thine own right hand hath stamped Might-Justice-LoveTrue trinity which binds in due degree,

God, Man, and Brute, in mutual unity.


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