writer has taken for granted some particulars for which no authority can be found. This edition, with some necessary omissions and corrections, has been principally used on the present occasion. A dialogue, in irregular measure, is printed in Mr. Ellis's Specimens, from a manuscript in the possession of Mr. Malone. Carew's Cœlum Britannicum, at one time erroneously attributed to Davenant, was printed with the first editions of his poems, and afterwards separately in 1651. Langbaine, and Cibber after him, says that our author placed the Latin notes on the front, when printed, but no edition printed in his life-time, is now known. The distich, however, might have been prefixed to the music of the Masque. Oldys, in his MSS. notes on Langbaine, informs us, that " Carew's Sonnets were more in request than any poet's of his time, that is between 1630 and 1640. They were many of them set to music by the two famous composers, Henry and William Lawes, and other eminent masters, and sung at court in their masques." It may be added that Carew was one of the old poets whom Pope studied, and from whom he borrowed. Dr. Percy honours him with the compliment of being an "elegant, and almost forgotten writer, whose poems deserve to be revised." But no modern critic appears to have estimated his merit with more liberality than Mr. Headley; his opinion however, is here copied, not without suspicion that his enthusiasm may be thought to have carried him too far. "The consummate elegance of this gentleman entitles him to very considerable attention. Sprightly, polished, and perspicuous, every part of his works displays the man of sense, gallantry, and breeding; indeed many of his productions have a certain happy finish, and betray a dexterity both of thought and expression much superior to any thing of his contemporaries, and on similar subjects, rarely surpassed by his successors. Carew has the ease without the pedantry of Waller, and perhaps less conceit. He reminds us of the best manner of lord Lyttelton. Waller is too exclusively considered as the first man who brought versification to any thing like its present standard. Carew's pretensions to the same merit are seldom sufficiently either considered, or allowed. Though love had long before softened us into civility, yet it was of a formal, ostentatious, and romantic cast; and, with a very few exceptions, its effects upon composition were similar to those on manners. Something more light, unaffected, and alluring, was still wanting; in every thing but sincerity of intention it was deficient. Panegyric, declamatory and nauseous, was rated by those to whom addressed, on the principle of Ruben's taste for beauty, by its quantity, not its elegance. Satire, dealing in rancour rather than reproof, was more inclined to lash than to laugh us out of our vices; and nearly counteracted her intentions by her want of good manners. Carew and Waller jointly began to remedy those defects. In them, gallantry, for the first time, was accompanied by the Graces, the fulsomness of panegyric forgot its gentility, and the edge of satire rendered keener in proportion to its smoothness. Suckling says of our author in his Session of the Poets, that the issue of his brain Was seldome brought forth but with trouble and pain. "In Lloyd's Worthies, Carew is likewise called elaborate and accurate.' However the fact might be, the internal evidence of his poems says no such thing. Hume has properly remarked, that Waller's pieces, aspire not to the sublime, still less to the pathetic,' Carew, in his beautiful Masque, has given us instances of the former; and, in his Epitaph on lady Mary Villers, eminently of the latter." POEMS OF THOMAS CAREW. Now THE SPRING. [frost TOW that the winter's gone, the Earth hath lost Her snow-white robes, and now no more the Candies the grass, or casts an icy cream Upon the silver lake, or chrystal stream: But the warm Sun thaws the benummed Earth And makes it tender, gives a sacred birth To the dead swallow, wakes in hollow tree The drowsy cuckow and the humble bee. Now do a quire of chirping minstrels bring In triumph to the world, the youthful Spring: The vallies, hills, and woods, in rich array, Welcome the coming of the long'd-for May. Now all things smile; only my love doth low'r : Nor hath the scalding noon-day-Sun the pow'r To melt that marble ice, which still doth hold Her heart congeal'd, and makes her pity cold. The ox, which lately did for shelter fly Into the stall, doth now securely lie In open fields: and love no more is made By the fire-side; but in the cooler shade Amyntas now doth with his Chloris sleep Under a sycamore, and all things keep Time with the season; only she doth carry June in her eyes, in her heart January. TO A. L. PERSUASIONS TO LOVE. THINK not, 'cause men flatt'ring say, Of rare beauty and sweet feature Thus common beauties and mean faces Remain still firm: be provident, "Nor need I beg from all the store And think before the summer's spento) daha ft | Of Heaven for her one beauty more: Of following winter; like the ant„turbate has Into your favour, one that may, For when the storms of time have mov'd And yellow spread where red once shin'd; LIPS AND EYES. IN Celia's face a question did arise, Which were more beautiful, her Lips or Eyes: "We," said the Eyes, "send forth those pointed darts Which pierce the hardest adamantine bearts." "From us," reply'd the Lips, "proceed those blisses, Which lovers reap by kind words and sweet kisses." Then wept the Eyes, and from their springs did pour Of liquid oriental pearl a show'r. Whereat the Lips, mov'd with delight and pleasure, Through a sweet smile unlock'd their pearly treasure; And bade Love judge, whether did add more grace, Weeping or smiling pearls in Celia's face. She hath too much for me: H Ye gods, teach her some more humanityda “pu We read of kings, and gods, that kindly took ? MY MISTRESS, COMMANDING ME TO RETURN HER LETTERS. So grieves th' advent'rous merchant, when he throws Go then, blest papers, you shall kiss those hands Say, if she frown when you that word rehearɛe, To fear some greater strength was lodg'd within. But the insulting tyrant so destroys My conquer'd mind, my ease, my peace my joys; The flesh together, yet sure though the skin SECRECY PROTESTED. FEAR not (dear love) that I'll reveal The god of love himself (whose dart A PRAYER TO THE WIND. Go, thou gentle whispering Wind, Bear this sigh; and if thou find Where my cruel fair doth rest, Cast it in her snowy breast; So, inflam'd by my desire, It may set her heart a-fire: Those sweet kisses thou shalt gain, Will reward thee for thy pain. Boldly light upon her lip, There suck odours, and thence skip To her bosom; lastly, fall Down, and wander over all; Range about those ivory hills From whose every part distils Amber dew; there spices grow, There pure streams of nectar flow. There perfume thyself, and bring All those sweets upon thy wing: As thou return'st, change by thy pow'r Every weed into a flow'r; Turn each thistle to a vine, Make the bramble eglantine; For so rich a booty made, Do but this, and I am paid. Thou canst, with thy pow'rful blast, Heat apace, and cool as fast: Thou canst kindle hidden flame, And again destroy the same: Then, for pity, either stir Up the fire of love in her, That alike both flames may shine, Or else quite extinguish mine. ૨૧ SONG. MEDIOCRITY IN LOVE REJECTED. Give me more love, or more disdain, The torrid, or the frozen zone The temperate affords me none: Give me a storm; if it be love, Like Danae in that golden shower, I swim in pleasure; if it prove Disdain, that torrent will devour My vulture-hopes; and he 's possess'd Of Heaven that 's but from Hell releas'd: Then crown my joys, or cure my pain; Give me more love, or more disdain. Now doth she with her new love play, With thousand dimples on her cheek! Be thou this eddy, and P'll make My breast thy shore, where thou shalt take Secure repose, and never dream ⠀⠀⠀ Of the quite forsaken stream: Let him to the wide ocean haste, There lose his colour, name and taste; Thou shalt save all, and, safe from bim, Within these arms for ever swim. 1. SONG. CONQUEST BY FLIGHT. LADIES, fly from love's smooth tale, Young men, fly, when beauty darts The fixt mark gives the shooter aim, SONG. TO MY INCONSTANT MISTRESS. WHEN thou, poor excommunicate A fairer hand than thine shall cure Then shalt thou weep, entreat, complain |