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Pacis beliiq' ministri,
Who seruiceable are,
In peace, and also warre.

Her military doe not only by thousands in their yeerely gallant discipline. musters, reioyce their Citie, and strike a secret terror into their enemies, but also by their voluntarie and priuate Martiall meditations (each other weeke) giue a goodly testimonie of their generous spirits, seruiceable skill, and good affection to their King and Her voluntaCountry. Truly these noble mindes, and warlike ex- ries. ercises, doe well deserue from the Commons imitation, and from the State encouragement. Thus much (if not too much) of Arctophylax his speare, and the Comets emblemated motion amongst the celestiall Hieroglyphicks. I may not forget the coincidence Coincidence of this celestiall messenger with the present Synode of this Comet

with the Syat Dort, diuine prouidence actually with the rayes nod at Dort. of this new Comet dispelling those foggie mists which began to ouer-shadow the glorious light of Euangelicall veritie. Neither may I omit that Comets doe often appeare, that the workes of God may be made ma- Comets often nifest in them (as our Sauiour said in another case) or appeare that as S. Paul, that by these visible things we may know the workes of the inuisible; God by these new celestiall blazons manifesieda

God may be labouring to eleuate our deiected eyes and base cogitations, from earth to the contemplation of his power, Commendawisdome, and goodnesse in these glorious lights most tion of Astro. apparant : Cæli enarrant gloriam Dei, The heauens nomie. declare the glorie of the Lord, saith the royall Prophet. How often is he rapt vp in the contemplation of the starres? Yea doth not God himselfe (expostulating with 10l) make mention of the celestiall Hieroglyphicks, the sweet influence of the Pleiades, the bonds of Orion, Mazzaroth, the sonnes of Arcturus, and the crooked Serpent.

S. Paul reprouing the Athenians blinde deuotion áyvóotu otu, to the unknowne God, doth refute them by testimonie of their owne Poet; του γαρ και γένος čousy, for we are also his ofspring : the very words of Aratus the Greeke Poet, and in that very poeme, wherein he at large deciphereth the emblematicall configurations of the starres. Certainly if S. Paul were now againe on the earth, and should to some


alleadge this Astronomicall Poet, they would not faile with the Athenians to say, Eévwy Earpovic ĉoxei xatayγελεύς είναι, He seemes to be a setter forth of strange Gods; or exclaime with Festus, uainn Navai, à 50 ac ce ypapunta els uaviar negitpéter : Paul thou art beside thy selfe, too much learning doth make the mad.

But these madde Ignorumus must be cured with HelEndeuor of

lebore, and not with words. More commendable was Hipparchus the endeuour of Hipparchus, who vpon occasion in Astrono of a new starre was stirred vp to such admiration, that mie,

hee attempted (a more then bumane act) to number the starres vnto posteritie, to measure their distances, and set forth their respectiue situations, yea to leaue the heauen it selfe as it were an inheritance to all men, if any in future times would be found to vnderstand so rare a complot. But how few in so many

after ages (two thousands of yeeres) haue taken posThis diuine session of this heauenly heritage? How few Casars Art neglected and Alphonses haue patronized this noble science? and destitute i

I cannot but bewaile this great neglect. But I hope this new Messenger from Heauen doth bring happie tidings of some munificent and liberall Patron to these rauishing (but impouerishing) studies, by whose gracious bountie the most recondite mysteries of this abstruse and diuine science shall at length be manifested.

Now for a finall closure to this impolished dis

course: Conclusion. Whatsoeuer euill this new Comet may presage, the

signe be to them that hate vs, and the interpretation
thereof to our enemies : But whatsoeuer good it can
promise, the God of Heauen (who there placed it)
confirme them all to his royall Maiestie, and Great
Britaines Monarchie. Amen.
From my house in London neere An-hallowes in

the Wall, this last of Decemb. 1618.

of Patrons.

A POOR student, of a different temper from that of many
A distinguished suitors of the day, justifies his apathy by quot-
ing the sentiment of the poet:

Man wants but little here below,
Nor wants that little Long.


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SWEET harp! through whose harmonic strings,

Such soft, melodious sounds respire,
Oh! say what heavenly seraph flings

His hand across thy trembling wire ?
For sure some minstrel of that choir

Immortal spirits hear with awe,
Such only could, with touch of fire,

Those tones of heavenly music draw!
Now from thy chords, in accents low,

Soft, thrilling notes vibrating steal,
As gentlest breezes faintly blow,

And to each gentler sense appeal :
The tortur'd wretch, condemn'd to feel

The pangs of grief, attends thy strain;
Blesses the dulcet sounds which heal,

With transient peace, his boson's pain.
Now from thy wires a bolder swell

Rises symphonious, loud, and clear ;
While Fancy owns the magic spell,

And scarce restrains the trickling tear;
Twas thus the minstrel seem'd to hear

The sounds from Fillan's wizard tree,'
Now distant lost, now echoing near,

Mix'd with the ' hum of housing bee.'
Sweet harp! at midnight's silent hour,

When viewless spirits hover round;
With added charms, with tenfold power,

Is heard thy pensive, solemn sound :
Immers'd in reverie profound,

As o'er thy strings the winds are driven,
The soul forgets its mortal hound,

Escapes from earth, and soars to heaven!
Oft have I stood on ocean's verge,

When billows rear'd their heads on high;
Listening the hoarse resounding surge,

Which seem'd the seaman's lullaby :

* Vide Scott's Farewell to the Harp, at the conclusion of his Lady of the Lake.


The spirits of the tempest, nigh,

Held o'er the waves their wild career, While muttering thunders, through the sky,

Made heavenly music to mine ear. And I have lov'd at times to rove,

When drear November's bowling breeze, Sweeping in gusts some lofty grove,

Its fury spent through leafless trees.Attimes, reclin'd in listless ease,

Beneath a cloudless sky in May, I've listen’d to the hum of bees,

Or tuneful warbler's joyful lay. But not the music of the main,

Nor murmurs of the wind-swept grov Nor hum of bees on flowery plain,

Nor feather'd songsters' lay of love, With such delight my bosom move,

Nor such romantic bliss inspire, As when the rising breezes rove

Responsive through th'Eolian lyre. But hark! its strings vibrate no more,

Its silvery tones have died away; The viewless minstrel's task is o'er,

He soars to realms of purer day!
Yet lingering Fancy loves to stray,

Still listens for the magic sound;
In vain; for Silence claims her sway,

And holds her empire all around.

B. B. W.

TO THE EVENING STAR. FAIR planet! whose resplendent beam

Proclaims the flight of winged day, At this still hour be thou my theme,

And chase each gloomy thought away; Oh! bid thine unassuming ray

Inspire with tranquil mood my breast, Bid heavenly Peace her sceptre sway,

And soothe each anxious care to rest.
Sweet star of eve! thy glimmering light

Conveys to me a purer joy,
Than morning sun-beams, dazzling, bright,

Illumining the eastern sky;

At evening's placid hour shall fly

Each earth-born passion, care and strife;
Her's is the tender, pensive sigh,

The silent luxury of life.
Bright favourite of the Papbian queen, .

Who bear'st the honours of her name,
Like her, from ocean's bed serene

Rising, we hail thy lambent flame !
Let blood-stain'd Mars seek martial fame,

Or Saturn roll through wintry skies ;
Thine is a milder, gentler claim,

To please the heart, to glad the eyes! Hail! lovely harbinger of eve,

"Tis thine, at twilight's hour serene, When scorching Phoebus takes his leave,

To usher in the glorious scene :
Fair Cynthia, night's resplendent queen,

In full orb'd glory greets the sight;
Unnumber'd stars, with twinkling sheen,

Display the majesty of night.
Is there, whose torpid heart unmov’d,

Can on the beauteous prospect dwell?
Who, loving none, by none belov'd,

Ne'er felt the bliss he could not tell ? If such there breathe, go, mark him well!'

He ne'er shall taste those pleasing charms, The joys, the trembling hopes, that swell

The breast which generous feeling warms.
Bright star, adieu ! this artless song,

By contemplative eve inspir'd,
As Time's swift stream shall roll along,

Must soon decay;-but thou, untir'd,
With undiminish'd splendour fir’d,

Shalt cheer the lingering hours of night; From age to age by all admir'd,

A source of pure, of calm delight!

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AND dost thou weep, like me, the faded charms

Of other hours, the visions of delight
So fondly cherish’d, when, in Fancy's arms,

Heedless we slept--now vanish'd from the sight,


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