Or with my Bryan and a book Loiter long days near Shawford brook; And angle on and beg to have A quiet passage to a welcome grave. [The song which honest Isaak wished to hear his Kenna sing, when loitering with his dog Bryan, he tells us was : Like hermit poor in pensive place obscure, I mean to spend my days of endless doubt, It was no doubt a popular song in Walton's time, but it might now be sung with many other favourite old verses, without a single cry of "excellent good i' faith."] KEEP ON YOUR MASK. Keep on your mask and hide your eye, Are worse than Basiliskes to me. Shut from mine eyes those hills of snow, Your dainty voice and warbling breath When life is done where shall I go! [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. It is also found in a little volume called Westminster Drollery, published in 1672. without any name.] DEATH'S FINAL CONQUEST. JAMES SHIRLEY. Born 1596-Died 1666. The glories of our blood* and state Must tumble down, And in the dust be equal made With the poor crooked scythe and spade. They stoop to fate, And must give up their murmuring breath, *Percy reads "birth." The garlands wither on your brow, All heads must come To the cold tomb, Only the actions of the just This fine song is found in 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 line, what Ritson calls one of his "brilliant touches," by altering the word "their" to "the," certainly an improvement.] "The Contention of Ajax and Ulysses, THE SHEPHERD'S HOLIDAY. JAMES SHIRLEY. This is Pan's great holiday, Throw off cares, With your heaven-aspiring airs Help us to sing, While valleys with your echoes ring. Nymphs that dwell within these groves, Leave your arbours, bring your loves, Gather posies, Crown As your golden hair with roses; you pass, Foot like fairies on the grass. Joy crown our bowers! Philomel As they at Thracian lyre did once: This is the shepherd's holiday. [From "Love Tricks or the School of Complement," 1631.] WHY DO YOU DWELL. JAMES SHIRLEY. Why do you dwell so long in clouds, Or not behave yourselves like spies On even terms go meet their eyes, You tread dull measures thus alone, Not satisfy delight; Go kiss their hands, and make your own With every touch more white. [Found in Shirley's masque of "The Triumph of Peace," and sung while the masquers are in "their revels with the ladies."] LOVE FLIES AWAY. THOMAS MAY. Born about 1596-Died 1652. Dear, do not you fair beauty wrong, Your cherry lip, red, soft and sweet, Then lose And flies no time, for love has wings, [From "The Old Couple," 1658. 4to.] DISDAIN RETURNED. THOMAS CAREW. Born about 1600-Died about 1639. He that loves a rosy cheek, |