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Who doth ambition shun
And pleased with what he gets,
There shall he see
But winter and rough weather.
Hesperus’ entreats thy light,
Goddess excellently bright!
Bless us then with wished sight,
Goddess excellently bright !
Thou that makest a day of night,
Ben Jonson (born 1574).
And spread thy purple wings;
And various shapes of things;
It must have bloodand nought of phlegm;
(1) Diana is here addressed as the moon, though reference is incidentally made to her functions as goddess of hunting.
(2) Hesperus—God of evening.
(3) It must have, &c.--The stream" or procession of airy forms must have warmth and animation, and not consist merely of cold and unimpressive figures.
Yet let it like an odour rise,
To all the senses here,
Or music on their ear.
X. TO BLOSSOMS.
Fair pledges of a fruitful tree,
Why do you fall so fast ?
Your date is not so past,
And at last.
An hour or half's delight,
And so to bid good night ?
And lose you quite.
May read how soon things have
Their end, though ne'er so brave :?
Herrick (born 1591),
(1) Like an odour, &c - The closing lines remind us of the rising of Pande. monium,“ like an exhalation," in Milton's magnificent description. (See p. 323.)
(2) Brave--in the old sense--fine, gay, glorious.
We have short time to stay, as you;
you, or anything;
hours do; and dry
Ne'er to be found again.
THE DYING BOY.1
I KNEW a boy, whose infant feet had trod
“Mother! I'm dying now
And on my brow
“I feel the cold sweat stand;
Shall I be missed ?
You taught to me!
(1) The deep pathos of these lines cannot but recommend them to every heart capable of feeling.
“Oh, at the time of prayer, When you look round and see a vacant seat, You will not wait then for my coming feet
You'll miss me there !”
“Father! I'm going home! To the good home you speak of, that blest land Where it is one bright summer always, and
Storms do not come.
“I must be happy then, From pain and death you say I shall be freeThat sickness never enters there, and we
Shall meet again!”
“ Brother !—the little spot I used to call my garden, where long hours We've stayed to watch the budding things and flowers,
Forget it not !
“Plant there some box or pineSomething that lives in winter, and will be A verdant offering to my memory,
And call it mine!"
Sister ! my young rose-tree-
give to thee.
“ And when its roses bloom, I shall be gone away-my short life done! But will
not bestow a single one Upon my tomb ?”
“Now, mother! sing the tune
You'll all come soon!”
THE STAR OF BETHLEHEM.
The glittering host bestud the sky,
Can fix the sinner's wandering eye:
From every host, from every gem,
It is the star of Bethlehem !
The storm was loud, the night was dark ;
The wind tirat tossed my foundering bark;
Death-struck, I ceased the tide to stem;
It was the star of Bethlehem !
It bade my dark forebodings cease ;
It led me to the port of peace :
I'll sing, first in night's diadem,
METRICAL FEET. TROCHẾE trips fròm lông tỏ sört ; From long to long, in solemn sort, Slow Spāndeē stālks; strong foot! yet ill able Ēvěr to come ŭp with Dāctýl trịsõllăblě. Zambies march fròm shört tỏ lỡng; With ă leāp ănd ă bound the swift Anăpæsts throng; One syllable long, with one short at each side, Amphībrăchýs hāstes with ă stătely stride; First ănd lāst bēžng lõng, middle short, Āmphìmācer Strikes hỉs thündêrîng hoofs like a proud high-bred rācer.