THE INSTABILITY OF MORTAL GLORY.

TRIUMPHING chariots, statues, crowns of bays,
Sky-threat'ning arches, the rewards of worth,
Books heavenly-wise in sweet harmonious lays,
Which men divine into the world set forth:
States which ambitious minds in blood do raise,
From frozen Tanais unto sun-burnt Gange,
Gigantic frames held wonders rarely strange,
Like spider's webs are made the sport of days.
Nothing is constant but inconstant change;
What's done still is undone, and when undone
Into some other fashion doth it range;
Thus goes the floating world beneath the moon;
Wherefore my mind above time, motion, place,
Rise up, and steps unknown to nature trace.

TO ALEXANDER, EARL OF STIRLING.

THOUGH I have twice been at the doors of Death,
And twice found shut those gates which ever mourn,
This but a light'ning is, truce ta'en to breathe,
For late-born sorrows augur fleet return.
Amid thy sacred cares and courtly toils,
Alexis, when thou shalt hear wand'ring fame
Tell Death hath triumphed o'er my mortal spoils,
And that on earth I am but a sad name :
If thou e'er held me dear, by all our love,
By all that bliss, these joys, heaven here us gave,
I conjure thee, and by the Maids of Jove,
To grave this short remembrance on my grave:

Here Damon lies, whose songs did sometimes grace
The murmuring Esk :—may roses shade the place!

IN PRAISE OF A SOLITARY LIFE, ADDRESSED BY SIR ROBERT KERR, SUBSEQUENTLY EARL OF ANCRAM, TO WILLIAM DRUMMOND OF HAWTHORNDen.

SWEET solitary life! lovely dumb joy,

That needst no warnings how to grow more wise By other men's mishaps, nor thee annoy,

Which from sore wrongs done to one's self doth rise, The morning's second mansion, truth's first friend, Never acquainted with the world's vain broils, Where the whole day to our own use we spend,

And our dear time no fierce ambition spoils. Most happy state! that never takes revenge For injuries receivèd, nor dost fear

The court's great earthquake, the grieved truth of change; Nor none of falsehood's savoury lies dost hear;

Nor know'st Hope's sweet disease, that charms our sense, Nor its sad cure-dear-bought Experienee !

the son of a Scrivener, was born in the parish of All Hallows, in the city of London, on the 9th of December, 1608. He passed his youth in intense study. Poetry, as it soothed the later and afflicted days of his life, gilded also his early hours. He entered Cambridge, but remained there for a very short time; his parents destined him from a child to the service of the church, but this did not suit his principles. Some short time after he travelled abroad, and visited the much injured Galileo; at the period of Milton's visit, Galileo was seventy-five years old, blind, and had been twice imprisoned by the Inquisition for supposed heresy. But what a fine and interesting picture the handsome and youthful Milton, the blind and venerable Galileo-how affecting the interview: what unfeigned and reverential awe must he have felt in the presence of this great and good old man. Often must Milton have recalled to his mind in after years that interview, when he himself old and blind, was composing his immortal poem. The above interview is beautifully described in a sonnet, by the late Dr. Drake.

"The west'ring sun had shed his farewell ray
On Arcetri, as Milton with deep awe,
Entering the abode of Galileo, saw

That great and god-like man in act to pray :

The beams of heaven glowed on his tresses gray,

But his shrunk eye-balls sought their light in vain:-
'Father,' he cried, 'thy son shall not complain,
But spare, he prays thee, spare his mental day!'—

O, be it mine! exclaimed the youthful bard,

When fallen on evil days, to copy thee,

And, whilst contending for truth's fond regard,

Ask light from heaven, nor heed what men decree!

It shall be thine, a seraph voice replied,

Pass but a few short years, and be your fates allied?"

While abroad, Milton acknowledged the influence of Lenora Baroni, La Bella Adriana; the music of her voice, as well as the beauty of her person, he has celebrated in his Italian sonnets. Lenora was also a poetess, and composed many songs; her talents were various, and her charms captivating. She was celebrated by many poets, among whom our Milton shines conspicuous, and by them immortality has been given to her name.

On his return to England, he entered deeply into politics. Above soliciting office, he remained in his occupation of Schoolmaster until 1649, when he received an appointment in the Foreign Office. He was married three times;-his first wife was utterly unworthy of him: the second, his "espoused saint," was speedily taken from him: the third, the youthful partner of his advanced years, devoted herself to him, with the tenderest solicitude, until his death, on Sunday the 8th of November, 1674.

TO THE NIGHTINGALE.

O, NIGHTINGALE, that on yon bloomy spray
Warblest at eve, when all the woods are still,
Thou with fresh hope the lover's heart dost fill,
While the jolly Hours lead on propitious May.
Thy liquid notes that close the eye of day,
First heard before the shallow cuckow's bill,
Portend success in love; O, if Jove's will
Have linked that amorous power to thy soft lay,
Now timely sing, ere the rude bird of hate

Foretel my hopeless doom in some grove nigh: As thou from year to year hast sung too late For my relief, yet hadst no reason why:

Whether the Muse, or Love, call thee his mate, Both them I serve, and of their train am I.

TO CARLO DIODATI.

DIODATI, e te'l dirò con maraviglia,

Quel ritroso io ch'amor spreggiar solea
E de suoi lacei spesso mi ridea

Gia caddi, ov'huom dabben talhor s' impiglia.
Ne treccie d'oro, ne guancia vermiglia,

M'abbaglian sì, ma sotto nova idea
Pellegrina belezza che'l cuor bea,
Portamenti alti honesti, e nelle ciglia
Quel sereno fulgar d'amabil nero,
Parole adorne di lingua piu d'una,
E'l cantar che di mezzo l'hemispero
Traviar ben puo la faticosa luna,

E degli occhi suoi avventa si gran fuoco
Che l'incerar gli orecchi mi fia poco.

TRANSLATION OF THE FOREGOING SONNET, BY COWPER.

CHARLES and I say it wondering-thou must know
That I, who once assumed a scornful air,
And scoffed at Love, am fallen into his snare;
(Full many an upright man has fallen so.)
Yet think me not thus dazzled by the flow
Of golden locks, or damask rose; more rare
The heartfelt beauties of my foreign fair!
A mien majestic, with dark brows, that show
The tranquil lustre of a lofty mind,—
Words exquisite, of idioms more than one;
And song, whose fascinating power might bind,
And from her sphere draw down the lab'ring moon;
With such fire-darting eyes, that should I fill
Mine ears with wax, she would enchant me still!

TO LEONORA BARONI.

GIOVANE piano, e semplicetto amante,

Poi che fuggir me stesso in dubbio sono,
Madonna a voi del mio cuor l'humil dono
Farò divoto; io certo a prove tante
L'hebbi fedele, intrepido, costante,

De pensieri leggiadro, accorto, e buono ;
Quando rugge il gran mondo, e scocca il tuono,
S'arma di se, e d'intero diamante;

Tanto del forse, e d'invidia sicuro,

Di timori, e speranze al popol use,

Quanto d'ingegno, e d'alto valor vago,

E di cetra sonora, e delle muse :
Sol troverete in tal parte men duro

Ove Amor mise l'insanabil ago.