IX. SIR JOHN SUCKLING's CAMPAIGNE. When the Scottish covenanters rofe up in arms, and advanced to the English borders in 1639, many of the courtiers complimented the king by raising forces at their own expence, Among thefe none were more diftinguished than the gallant Sir John Suckling, who raised a troop of horse, fo richly accoutred, that it cost him 12,000l. The like expenfive equipment of other parts of the army, made the king remark, that the Scots would fight floutly, if it were but for "the Englishmen's fine cloaths." [Lloyd's Memoirs.] When they came to action, the rugged Scots proved more than a match for the fine fhewy English: many of whom behaved remarkably ill, and among the reft this fplendid troop of Sir John Suckling's. This humorous pafquil has been generally fuppofed to have been written by Sir John, as a banter upon himself. Some of his contemporaries however attributed it to Sir John Mennis, a wit of thofe times, among whofe poems it is printed in a small poetical mifcellany, intitled, " Mufarum delicia: or the Mufes recreation, containing feveral pieces "of poetique wit, 2d. edition. By Sir J. M. [Sir John "Mennis and Ja. S. [James Smith.] Lond. 1656, 12mo.' See Wood's Athenee. II. 307, 418.] In that copy is fubjoined an additional fianza, which probably was written by this Sir John Mennis, viz. "But "But now there is peace, he's return'd to increase IR John he got him an ambling nag, SIR To Scotland for to ride-a, With a hundred horse more, all his own he swore, To guard him on every fide-a. No Errant-knight ever went to fight With halfe fo gay a bravada, 5 Had you feen but his look, you'ld have fworn on a book, Hee'ld have conquer'd a whole armada. The ladies ran all to the windows to fee But he, like a cruel knight, fpurr'd on; His heart would not relent-a, ΤΟ For, till he came there, what had he to fear? 15 Or why should he repent-a? The king (God bless him!) had fingular hopes Of him and all his troop-a: The borderers they, as they met him on the way, For joy did hollow, and whoop-a. 20 None None lik'd him fo well, as his own colonell, But when there were shows of gunning and blows, For when the Scots army came within fight, 25 And all prepared to fight-a, He ran to his tent, they ask'd what he meant, He fwore he must needs goe fh*te-a. The colonell fent for him back agen, To quarter him in the van-a, But Sir John did fwear, he would not come there, To cure his fear, he was fent to the reare, And ne'er saw the enemy more-a, 30 35 Ver. 22. JOHN DE WERT was a German general of great reputa tion, and the terror of the French in the reign of Louis XIII. Hence biş name became proverbial in France, where he was called De Vert. See Bayle's Dict. X. TO ALTHEA FROM PRISON. This excellent fonnet, which poffeffed a high degree of fame among the old Cavaliers, was written by Colonel Richard Lovelace during his confinement in the gate boufe Weftminster: to which he was committed by the House of Commons, in April 1642, for presenting a petition from the county of Kent, requefting them to restore the king to his rights, and to fettle the government. See Wood's Athena, Vol. II. p. 228, and Lyfon's Environs of London, Vol. I. p. 109; where may be feen at large the affecting ftory of this elegant writer, who after having been diftinguished for every gallant and polite accomplishment, the pattern of his own fex, and the darling of the ladies, died in the lowest wretchedness, obfcurity, and want, in 1658. This fong is printed from a fcarce volume of his poems intitled, "Lucafta, 1649, 12mo." collated with a copy in the Editor's folia MS. 7HEN love with unconfined wings WHE Hovers within my gates, And my divine Althea brings To whisper at my grates; When I lye tangled in her haire, And fetter'd with her eye, The birds that wanton in the aire, 5 When When flowing cups run fwiftly round With no allaying Thames, Our careleffe heads with rofes crown'd, When thirfly griefe in wine we steepe, When healths and draughts goe free, Fishes, that tipple in the deepe, Know no fuch libertìe. When, linnet-like, confined I The mercye, fweetnefs, majeftye, And glories of my king; When I fhall voyce alond how good He is, how great should be, Th'enlarged windes, that curle the flood, 15 2Q Ver. 10. with woe-allaying themes MS. Thames is bere used for awater in general. XI. THE |