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He sees thee gentle, fair and gay, And trusts the faithless April of thy May.

Cowley. Upon a paper written with the juice of lemon, and read by the fire :

Nothing yet in thee is seen,
But when a genial heat warms thee

within, A new-born wood of various lines there

grows;
Here buds an L, and there a B,

Here sprouts a V, and there a T, And all the flourishing letters stand in rows.

COWLEY.

warms

AS they fought only for novelty, they did not much enquire whether their

allu

allufions were to things high or low, elegant or gross; whether they compared the little to the great, or the great to the little.

Physick and Chirurgery for a Lover.' Gently, ah gently, madam, touch

The wound, which you yourself have

made ; , . ...in That pain must needs be very much,

Which makes me of your hand afraid. Cordials of pity give me now, For I too weak for purgings grow.

Cowley: The World and a Clock. Mahol, th’inferior world's fantastic face, Thro’all the turns of matter's maze did trace; F 3

Great

Great Nature's well-fee clock in pieces !!71.took ; .: :' ::. .. On all the springs and fmallest wheels

did look Of life and motion; and with equal art Made up again the whole of every paxt.

julio ' COWLEY. A coal-pit has not often found its poet ; but that it may not want its due honour's Creveland has paralleled it with the Sun: ye js.!.!.in !!! ! The modräte value of our guiltlefs ore, Makes no man atheist, nor no woman

whore ... ! Yet why should hallow'd vestals sacred

'fhrine, Deserve more honour than a fiaming

or

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is, mines

These

These pregnant wombs of heat would

fitter be Than a few embers for a deity. Had he our pits, the Persian would

admire No fun, but warm's devotion at our fire: He'd leave the trotting whipster, and

prefer Our profound Vulcan ’bove that wag

goner.

For wants he heat? or light? or would

have store? Or both ? 'tis here : and what can fuas

give more? Nay, what's the fun, but in a different

name, . A coal-pit rampant, or a mine on flame!

Then

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Then let this truth reciprocally run,
The sun's heaven's coalery, and coals
our sun.
Death, a Voyage :

No family
Ere rigg'd a soul for heaven's discovery,
With whom more venturers might boldly

· dare Venture their stakes, with him in joy to

share.

DONNE.

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THEIR thoughts and expressions

were sometimes grossly absurd, and such as no figures or licence can reconcile to the understanding.

wonding
A lover neither dead nor alive :
Then down I laid my head,

Down

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