Зображення сторінки
PDF
ePub

2. It is an active flame, that flies

First to the babies of the eyes,

And charms them there with lullabies:

Chor. And stills the bride, too, when she cries:

2. Then to the chin, the cheek, the ear,

It frisks and flies: now here, now there;

"Tis now far off, and then 'tis near:

Chor. And here, and there, and everywhere.
1. Has it a speaking virtue ?-2. Yes.
1. How speaks it, say ?-2. Do you but this,
Part your joined lips, then speaks your kiss :
Chor.-And this love's sweetest language is.

1. Has it a body ?-2. Ay, and wings,
With thousand rare encolourings;
And as it flies, it gently sings,

Chor.-Love honey yields, but never stings.

To the Virgins, to make much of their Time.

Gather the rose-buds while ye may,

Old Time is still a-flying,

And this same flower that smiles to-day
To-morrow will be dying.

The glorious lamp of heaven, the sun,
The higher he's a-getting,
The sooner will his race be run,
And nearer he's to setting.

That age is best which is the first,

When youth and blood are warmer; But, being spent, the worse, and worst Time shall succeed the former.

Then be not coy, but use your time,
And while ye may, go marry;
For, having lost but once your prime,
You may for ever tarry.

Twelfth Night, or King and Queen.

Now, now the mirth. comes,*
With the cake full of plums,
Where bean 's the king of the sport here
Beside, we must know,

The pea also

Must revel as queen in the court here.

Begin then to choose,
This night, as ye use,
Who shall for the present delight here;
Be a king by the lot,

And who shall not

Be Twelfth-day queen for the night here.

Which known, let us make
Joy-sops with the cake;

And let not a man then be seen here,"

Along the dark and silent night,
With my lantern and my light,
And the tinkling of my bell,
Thus I walk, and thus I tell :
Death and dreadfulness call on
To the general session;

To whose dismal bar, we there

[ocr errors]

Who unurged will not drink,
To the base from the brink,

A health to the king and the queen here,

Next crown the bowl full
With gentle lamb's-wool; (1)
Add sugar, nutmeg, and ginger,
With store of ale, too;

And thus ye must do

To make the wassail a swinger.

Give them to the king
And queen wassailing;

And though with ale ye be wet here;
Yet part ye from hence,

As free from offense,

As when ye innocent met here.

[blocks in formation]

Amongst the sports proper to Twelfth-night in England, was the partition of a cake with a bean and pea in it; the individuals who got the bean and pea were respectively king and queen for the evening.

1 drink of warm ale, with roasted apples and spices in it. The term is a corruption from the Celtic.

Julia.

Some asked me where the rubies grew,

And nothing did I say,

But with my finger pointed to

The lips of Julia.

To part her lips, and shew me there
The quarrelets of pearl.

One asked me where the roses grew,
I bade him not go seek;

Some asked how pearls did grow, and But forthwith bade my Julia shew

[blocks in formation]

Upon a Child that Died.
Here she lies, a pretty bud,
Lately made of flesh and blood,
Who as soon fell fast asleep,
As her little eyes did peep.
Give her strewings, but not stir
The earth that lightly covers her!

Epitaph upon a Child.
Virgius promised, when I died,
That they would each primrose-tide,
Duly morn and evening come,
And with flowers dress my tomb:
Having promised, pay your debts,
Maids, and here strew violets.

A Thanksgiving for his House.

[blocks in formation]

Good words or meat.
Like as my parlour, so my hall,
And kitchen small;

A little buttery, and therein
A little bin,

Which keeps my little loaf of bread
Unchipt, unflead.

Some brittle sticks of thorn or brier

Make me a fire,

Close by whose living coal I sit,

And glow like it.

Lord, I confess, too, when I dine,
The pulse is Thine,

And all those other bits that be
There placed by Thee.

[blocks in formation]

To Corinna, to go a-Maying.

Get up, get up for shame, the blooming morn
Upon her wings presents the god unshörn.

See how Aurora throws her fair
Fresh-quilted colours through the air:
Get up, sweet slug-a-bed, and see
The dew-bespangled herb and tree.

Each flower has wept, and bowed toward the east,
Above an hour since, yet you are not dressed,
Nay, not so much as out of bed;

When all the birds have matins said,

And sung their thankful hymns: 'tis sin,
Nay, profanation, to keep in,

When as a thousand virgins on this day,
Spring sooner than the lark to fetch in May.

Rise, and put on your foliage, and be seen

To come forth, like the spring-time, fresh and green,
And sweet as Flora. Take no care

For jewels for your gown or hair;
Fear not, the leaves will strew
Gems in abundance upon you;
Besides, the childhood of the day has kept,
Against you come, some orient pearls unwept.
Come, and receive them while the light
Hangs on the dew-locks of the night:
And Titan on the eastern hill

Retires himself, or else stands still

Till you come forth. Wash, dress, be brief in praying;
Few beads are best when once we go a-Maying.

Come, my Corinna, come; and, coming, mark
How each field turns a street,* each street a park

Made green, and trimmed with trees; see how
Devotion gives each house a bough,

Or branch; each porch, each door, ere this,
An ark, a tabernacle is,

Made up of white thorn neatly interwove;
As if here were those cooler shades of love.
Can such delights be in the street
And open fields, and we not see 't?
Come, we 'll abroad, and let 's obey
The proclamation made for May:

And sin no more, as we have done, by staying,
But, my Corinna, come, let's go a-Maying.

There's not a budding boy or girl this day,
But is got up, and gone to bring in May,

A deal of youth, ere this, is come

Back, and with white thorn laden home.
Some have despatched their cakes and cream,
Before that we have left to dream;

And some have wept, and wooed, and plighted troth,
And chose their priest, ere we can cast off sloth:
Many a green gown has been given;
Many a kiss, both odd and even;

Many a glance, too, has been sent
From out the eye, love's firmament;

Many a jest told of the key's betraying

This night, and locks picked; yet we're not a-Maying.

Come, let us go, while we are in our prime,
And take the harmless folly of the time.

We shall grow old apace, and die;
Before we know our liberty.
Our life is short, and our days run
As fast away as does the sun;

And as a vapour, or a drop of rain

Once lost, can ne'er be found again;

So when or you or I are made
A fable, song, or fleeting shade;

All love, all liking, all delight

Lies drowned with us in endless night.

Then, when time serves, and we are but decaying,

Come, my Corinna, come, let's go a-Maying,

*Herrick here alludes to the multitudes which were to be seen roaming in the fields on May morning: he afterwards refers to the appearance of the towns and villages bedecked with evergreens.

SIR WILLIAM DAVENANT.

SIR WILLIAM DAVENANT, whose life occupies an important space in the history of the stage, preceding and after the Restoration, wrote a heroic poem entitled Gondibert,' and some copies of miscellaneous verses. Davenant, or D'Avenant-for so he wrote his name-was born in February 1605-6, and was the son of a vintner at Oxford. There is a scandalous story, that he was the natural son of Shakspeare, who was in the habit of stopping at the Crown Tavern-kept by the elder Davenant-on his journeys between London and Stratford. This story was related to Pope by Betterton the player; but it seems to rest on no authority but idle tradition. Young Davenant is said to have admired Shakspeare above all other poets, and ‘one of the first essays of his muse,' when a mere boy, was an Ode to Shakspeare, which was afterwards included in a volume entitled Madagascar and other Poems,' 1638. It opens in the following strain:

Beware, delighted poets, when you sing,
To welcome nature in the early spring,
Your numerous feet not tread

The banks of Avon, for each flower-
As it ne'er knew a sun or shower-
Hangs there the pensive head.

About

It is to be regretted-for the sake of Davenant, as well as of the world -that the great dramatist did not live to guide the taste and foster the genius of his youthful admirer, whose life presented some strange adventures. He was entered at Lincoln College, but left without taking a degree; he then became page to the Duchess of Richmond, and afterwards was in the service of the poet, Lord Brooke. the year 1628, Davenant began to write for the stage; and in 1637, on the death of Ben Jonson, he was appointed laureate. He was afterwards manager of Drury Lane, but entering into the commotions and intrigues of the civil war, he was apprehended and confined in the Tower. He afterwards escaped to France. When the queen sent over to the Earl of Newcastle a quantity of military stores, Davenant resolved to return to England, and he distinguished himself so much in the cause of the royalists, that he was knighted for his skill and bravery. On the decline of the king's affairs, he returned to France, and wrote part of his 'Gondibert.' His next step was to sail for Virginia as a colonial projector; but the vessel was captured by one of the parliamentary ships-of-war, and Davenant was lodged in prison at Cowes, in the Isle of Wight. In 1650, he was removed to the Tower, preparatory to his being tried by the High Commission Court. His life was considered in danger, but he was released after two years' imprisonment. Milton is said to have interposed in his behalf; and as Davenant is reported to have interfered in favour of Milton when the royalists were again in the ascendant, after the Restoration, we would gladly believe the statement to be true. Such incidents give a peculiar grace and relief to E. L. v. ii.-5

« НазадПродовжити »