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From “Hesperides," p. 122, Ed. 1648, * Herrick is highly lauded by Mr. Campbell in his specimens of the Poets.]
* Where these well known lines are found, called :
Cherrie-Ripe, Ripe, Ripe, I cry,
TELL ME NO MORE.
HENRY KING-BISHOP OF CHICHESTER.
Born 1591-Died 1669.
Tell me no more how fair she is,
I have no mind to hear
I never shall come near :
And tell me not how fond I am
To tempt my daring fate,
But to repent too late:
wa wa sok vished to bear bis Kenda sing,
Verweg in Waltra's time, but it might now
thalaite old. Terse, without a single cry of
na batal beauty, Gorgon like
Taight of heaven is worse than hell.
7. ESGLASD AND IRELAND.
I ask no pity, Love, from thee,
Nor will thy justice blame, So that thou wilt not envy me
The glory of my flame; Which crowns my heart whene'er it dies, In that it falls her sacrifice.
the Bora and a book
kad tegle ca and beg to have
[The poems of King are terse and elegant, but, like those of most of his contemporaries, deficient in simplicity. Geo. ELLIS.]
THE ANGLER'S WISH.
WEES ON YOUR MASK.
Born 1593-Died 1683.
Sit here and see the turtle dove
Court his chaste mate to acts of love. Or on that bank feel the west wind Breathe health and plenty, please my To see sweet dew-drops kiss these flowers, And then wash'd off by April showers :
Here, hear my kenna sing a song
There see a blackbird feed her young.
Thus free from law-suits and the noise
linear a guar mask and hide your eye, ise vil beboeling you I die,
Dead with astonishment will strike, Vive piercing eyes, if them I see Anore than Basiliskes to me.
Tház melting valley do not show, These azure paths lead to despair, Orez me not forbear, forbear! Sur while I thus in torments dwell
[The song which honest Isaak wished to hear his Kenga sing, when loitering with his dog Bryan, he tells us was :
Like hermit poor in pensive place obscure,
"excellent good i' faith.")
KEEP ON YOUR MASK.
Keep on your mask and hide your eye,
Shut from mine eyes those hills of snow,
Your dainty voice and warbling breath
(From a MS. copy of Poems by William Browne, author of Bri. tannia's Pastorals contained among the Lansdown papers. This song is found at the end of the volume among some pieces by Raleigh, Wotton and others. It has the signature Wm. Ste. is also fondd in a little volume called Westminster Drollery, published in 1672 without any name.]
DEATH'S FINAL CONQUEST.
Born 1596—Died 1666.
The glories of our blood * and state
Are shadows, not substantial things;
Sceptre and crown
Must tumble down,
With the poor crooked scythe and spade.
And plant fresh laurels where they kill ;
Early or late
They stoop to fate,
* Percy reads “birth."
(This fine song is found in “ The Contention of Ajax and Ulystes, for the armour of Achilles," 1659. Shirley's Plays and Poems have been lately reprinted with notes by Mr. Gifford, and an account of his life by Mr. Dyce. Dr. Percy gave to the last lioe, what Ritson calls one of his " brilliant touches," by altering the word " their” to "the," certainly an improvement.]
THE SHEPHERD'S HOLIDAY.
Woodmen, shepherds, come away,
Throw off cares,
your heaven-aspiring airs
Help us to sing,
your golden hair with roses;
As you pass,