GIVE MY LOVE GOOD MORROW.

THOMAS HEYWOOD.-ABOUT 1650.

[A dramatic writer and actor in the reigns of Elizabeth, James, and Charles; he is said to have been the author of between two hundred and three hundred plays.]

PACK, clouds, away, and welcome day,
With night we banish sorrow;

Sweet air blow soft, mount larks aloft

To give my Love good-morrow!
Wings from the wind to please her mind,
Notes from the lark I'll borrow;
Bird prune thy wing, nightingale sing,
To give my Love good-morrow;

To give my Love good-morrow
Notes from them both I'll borrow..

Wake from thy nest, Robin-red-breast,
Sing birds in every furrow;
And from each hill, let music shrill
Give my fair Love good-morrow!
Blackbird and thrush in every bush,
Stare, linnet, and cock-sparrow!
You pretty elves, amongst yourselves
Sing my fair Love good-morrow;

To give my Love good-morrow
Sing birds in every furrow!

THE CHOICE.

BY JOHN POMFRET.—1657-1703.

[JOHN POMFRET was born at Luton, in Bedfordshire, in 1667, and educated at Cambridge. He took orders, and obtained the living of Malden, in Bedfordshire. But going to London, in 1703, to vindicate himself to the Bishop from a charge of having introduced immoral sentiments into his poem of "The Choice," this amiable and unfortunate man took the small-pox and died. This piece, from which we have selected an extract, derives most of its charms from the delightful images of a country life which it calls up in the mind; but its beauties in this way have been thrown into the shade by similar efforts of Thomson and Cowper, and hence it is, in a great degree, forgotten.]

F Heaven the grateful liberty would give

IF

That I might choose my method how to live;
And all those hours propitious fate should lend,
In blissful ease and satisfaction spend ;
Near some fair town I'd have a private seat,
Built uniform, not little, nor too great;
Better, if on a rising ground it stood;

On this side fields, on that a neighbouring wood.
It should within no other things contain
But what are useful, necessary, plain;
Methinks 'tis nauseous; and I'd ne'er endure
The needless pomp of gaudy furniture.
A little garden grateful to the eye,
And a cool rivulet run murmuring by;
On whose delicious banks a stately row
Of shady limes or sycamores should grow.
At th' end of which a silent study placed,
Should be with all the noblest authors graced :
Horace and Virgil, in whose mighty lines
Immortal wit and solid learning shines;
Sharp Juvenal, and amorous Ovid too,

Who all the turns of love's soft passion knew:

He that with judgment reads his charming lines,
In which strong art with stronger nature joins,
Must grant his fancy does the best excel;
His thoughts so tender, and express'd so well:
With all those moderns, men of steady sense,
Esteem'd for learning and for eloquence.
In some of these, as fancy should advise,
I'd always take my morning exercise;
For sure no minutes bring us more content
Than those in pleasing useful studies spent.

I'd have a clear and competent estate,
That I might live genteely, but not great;
As much as I could moderately spend;
A little more, sometimes t' oblige a friend.
Nor should the sons of poverty repine

Too much at fortune; they should taste of mine;

And all that objects of true pity were

Should be relieved with what my wants could spare;
For that our Maker has too largely given
Should be returned in gratitude to Heaven.

A frugal plenty should my table spread;
With healthy, not luxurious, dishes spread;
Enough to satisfy, and something more,

To feed the stranger, and the neighbouring poor.
Strong meat indulges vice, and pampering food
Creates diseases, and inflames the blood.
But what's sufficient to make nature strong,
And the bright lamp of life continue long,
I'd freely take; and, as I did possess,
The bounteous Author of my plenty bless.

“TO ALL YOU LADIES NOW AT LAND.”

BY CHARLES SACKVILLE.-1637-1706.

[CHARLES SACKVILLE, EARL OF DORSET AND MIDDLESEX, was born in 1637. He spent much of the earlier portion of his life in travelling, and, in the Dutch war, served on board the fleet, as a volunteer, under the Duke of York. He was made Gentleman of the Bedchamber to Charles II., and was sent on several embassies. He obtained the title of Earl of Middlesex on the death of his uncle, and that of Dorset on the death of his father. At the Revolution, he became Chamberlain to William III. He died in 1706.

Though Sackville came into the possession of two fine estates while very young, he devoted himself to books and conversation. His poetical works are few, but they are elegant, and sometimes exhibit great powers; and he was not without talent as a satirist. The night previous to the engagement in which Opdam, the Dutch Admiral, was blown up with all his crew, he wrote the following piece.]

For though the Muses should prove kind,
And fill our empty brain;

Yet if rough Neptune rouse the wind,

To wave the azure main,

Our paper, pen, and ink, and we,

Roll up and down our ships at sea.
With a fa, &c.

Then, if we write not by each post,
Think not we are unkind;
Nor yet conclude our ships are lost
By Dutchmen or by wind:

Our tears we'll send a speedier way;
The tide shall bring them twice a-day.
With a fa, &c.

The king, with wonder and surprise,
Will swear the seas grow bold;
Because the tides will higher rise
Than e'er they did of old:

But let him know it is our tears

Bring floods of grief to Whitehall-stairs.
With a fa, &c.

Should foggy Opdam chance to know
Our sad and dismal story,

The Dutch would scorn so weak a foe

And quit their fort at Goree ;

For what resistance can they find

From men who've left their hearts behind?

With a fa, &c.

Let wind and weather do its worst,

Be you to us but kind;

Let Dutchmen vapour, Spaniards curse,
No sorrow we shall find:

"Tis then no matter how things go,

Or who's our friend, or who's our foe.

With a fa, &c.