where we sport ourselves, and strip her black mantle from the dark Hag and stick in its place everlasting Day.'

1. 37. 'untempted', apparently 'secure, unmolested'.

p. 187. Of Wit. Wit is equivalent to imagination, fancy, genius, combined with learning, and showing itself in the discovery of subtle analogies, resemblances. Compare Pope, Essay on Criticism, e. g. ll. 290-304; Johnson, Life of Cowley.

p. 190. Against Hope. These poems illustrate the difference between Cowley's clear, clever wit and Crashaw's warmer fancy. But Cowley's Hope and Crashaw's are not quite the same. Compare Hope in Spenser's Faerie Queene, iii. 12. 13, with Speranza in i. 10. 14.

p. 191. Answer for Hope. This 1651 text varies as usual from earlier versions, showing revision.

1..30. supple essence' 1652, 'subtile essence' 1646.

p. 193. On the Death of Mr. Crashaw.

Il. 37-46. Crashaw died at Loretto, of which he was a Canon. p. 197. Hymn. To Light.

Il. 45-8. Compare Shelley's Hymn to Apollo:

The sunbeams are my shafts, with which I kill
Deceit, that loves the night and fears the day;
All men who do or even imagine ill

Fly me, and from the glory of my ray

Good minds and open actions take new might,
Until diminished by the reign of Night.

p. 207. A Contemplation upon Flowers. From Harleian MS. 697 (British Museum), where it is signed 'H. Kinge'. It is not certain that it is the Bishop's.

p. 208. On a Drop of Dew. In the 1681 edition Latin versions of this and the following poem, The Garden, are printed immediately after the English. Neither the Latin nor the English can be accurately described as a translation of the other. But a careful reading suggests that the Latin in each case was written first, and served as a guide rather than a text for the beautiful English verses. The relation of the two versions On a Drop of Dew and Ros is fairly close, though

the Latin is at times clearer than the English; e.g. 'Round in its self incloses' (1. 7), means, as the Latin shows, 'incloses itself in its own orb':

Inque sui nitido conclusa voluminis orbe ;

and 'So the World excluding round' (1. 29) is in Latin

Oppositum mundo claudit ubique latus.

The relation of The Garden and Hortus is much less close. Portions of the Latin reappear very freely treated, viz. the first three stanzas and the last. Other portions of the Latin are not represented in English, and, on the other hand, stanzas 4-8 read like a happy addition in which the poet has been unfettered by any reference to the Latin. The 1681 editor, indeed, suggests that some of the Latin poem is lost, but this may be an attempt to explain the want of correspondence.

My colleague Professor Oliffe Legh Richmond has read the poems carefully and the opinion I have adopted was suggested by him.

That of his

p. 209. The Metaphysical Sectarian. The description of Hudibras in Canto I, i. e. on his intellectual side. religion follows:

1. 12.

For his Religion it was fit

To match his Learning and his Wit:
'Twas Presbyterian true blew, &c.

'Committee-men'. Committees set up in various

counties to fine and imprison indignants.

1. 56. Tycho Brahe,' the Danish mathematician and astronomer. Erra Pater, i. e. William Lilly, the English astrologer (1602-81) whom every one consulted.

1. 58. As a justice of peace he could inspect weights and

measures.

1. 84. Like words congeal'd'. Compare Rabelais, Pantagruel, iv. 55.

1. 88. 'he that hight Irrefragable', Alexander of Hales, d. 1245.

INDEX OF FIRST LINES.

A Ward, and still in bonds, one day
Absence heare my protestation

Accept thou Shrine of my dead Saint,

After those reverend papers, whose soule is
All Kings, and all their favorites,
And do they so? have they a Sense
And here the precious dust is laid;
As time one day by me did pass
As virtuous men passe mildly away
Ask me no more where Jove bestowes,.

At the round earths imagin'd corners, blow.

Batter my heart, three person'd God; for, you
Before we shall again behold

Blasted with sighs, and surrounded with teares,
Brave flowers that I could gallant it like you
Busie old foole, unruly Sunne,

By our first strange and fatall'interview,

Can we not force from widdowed Poetry,
Clora come view my Soul, and tell
Cloris, it is not thy disdaine

Come we shepheards whose blest Sight
Courage my Soul, now learn to wield .

Dear, back my wounded heart restore,
Dear hope! earth's dowry, & heavn's debt!
Deare love, for nothing lesse then thee
Dear urge no more that killing cause
Death be not proud, though some have called thee
Do not conceale thy radiant eyes,

Draw neer

Ev'n like two little bank-dividing brookes,

Faire as unshaded Light; or as the Day
False life! a foil and no more, when
Fancy and I, last Evening walkt,

Farewel ye guilded follies, pleasing troubles,
First born of Chaos, who so fair didst come

Give me more Love, or more Disdain ;

Goe, and catche a falling starre,

Goe! hunt the whiter Ermine! and present.

Had we but World enough, and Time,

Hail, sister springs!

Happy Choristers of Aire,

Happy those early dayes! when I

Having been tenant long to a rich Lord,

Having interr'd her Infant-birth, .

He was in Logick a great Critick,

Here take my Picture; though I bid farewell,
Holinesse on the head,

Honour is so sublime perfection,

Hope, whose weak Being ruin'd is,
How ill doth he deserve a Lovers name,
How vainly men themselves amaze

I did not live until this time

I made a posie, while the day ran by:

I presse not to the Quire, nor dare I greet
I struck the board, and cry'd, No more.
I was foretold, your rebell sex,

I wonder by my troth, what thou, and I
If to be absent were to be

If yet I have not all thy love,

In what torne ship soever I embarke,

Jesu is in my heart, his sacred name

Kinde pitty chokes my spleene; brave scorn forbids
Know Celia, (since thou art so proud,)

Let mans Soule be a Spheare, and then, in this,
Let me powre forth

Little think'st thou, poore flower,

Lord, how can man preach thy eternal word?
Lord when the wise men came from farr

Lord, who createdst man in wealth and store,
Love bade me welcome: yet my soul drew back,
Love, brave Vertues younger Brother,.
Love in her Sunny Eyes does Basking play;
Love, thou art Absolute sole lord

Mark you the floore? that square & speckled stone,
Must I then see, alas! eternal night
My dearest Rival, least our Love.

Index of First Lines.

My Life is measur'd by this glasse, this glasse

My Love is of a birth as rare

Noe more unto my thoughts appeare,

Not that by this disdain

Now you have freely given me leave to love,

O my Lucasia, let us speak our Love, .
O who shall, from this Dungeon, raise.
Of thee (kind boy) I ask no red and white
Oh! for some honest Lovers ghost,
Oh thou great Power, in whom I move,
Oh thou that swing'st upon the waving haire
Out upon it,
have lov'd

Poet and Saint! to thee alone are given

Send home my long strayd eyes to mee

Show me deare Christ, thy spouse, so bright and clear.
Since I am comming to that Holy roome,
Since that this thing we call the world

So, so, breake off this last lamenting kisse
Strange and unnatural! lets stay and see
Sweet day, so cool, so calm, so bright,
Sweetest love, I do not goe,

Take heed of loving mee,

Tell me no more how faire she is,

Tell me not (Sweet) I am unkinde,

Tell me, O tell, what kind of thing is Wit,

The Good in Graves as Heavenly Seed are sown ;
The Lark now leaves his watry Nest

The proud Egyptian Queen, her Roman Guest,
The sluggish morne as yet und rest,
They are all gone into the world of light!
This is my playes last scene, here heavens appoint
This is the Month, and this the happy morn
Thou hast made me, And shall thy worke decay
Though you be absent here, I needs must say
Through that pure Virgin-shrine,

Throw away thy rod,.

'Tis not how witty, nor how free,

Tis the yeares midnight, and it is the dayes,