Whose mother slept where flowers grew on her grave.
And she succeeded her in face and fame.

Hor beauty princes durst not hope to use,

Unless like poets, for their morning theme;
And her mind's beauty they would rather choose,
Which did the light on beauty's lanthorn seem.

She ne'er saw courts, yet courts could have undone
With untaught looks, and an unpracticed heart;
Her nets, the most prepar'd could never shun,
For nature spread them in the scorn of art.

She never had in busy cities been,

Ne'er warm'd with hopes, nor ere allay'd with fears; Not seeing punishment, could guess no sin,

And sin not seeing, ne'er had use of tears.

But here her father's precepts gave her skill,
Which with incessant business fill'd the hours;
In spring she gather'd blossoms for the still;
In autumn, berries; and in summer, flowers.
And as kind nature, with calm diligence,

Her own free virtue silently employs,

Whilst she unheard, does ripening growth dispense,
So were her virtues busy without noise.

Whilst her great mistress, Nature, thus she tends,
The busy household waits no less on her;

By secret law, each to her beauty bends,
Though all her lowly mind to that prefer.

Gracious and free she breaks upon them all

With morning looks; and they, when she does rise, Devoutly at her dawn in homage fall

And droop like flowers when evening shuts her eyes.

In maid's weak wishes, her whole stock of thought;

Fond maids! who love with mind's fine stuff would mend

Which nature purposely of bodies wrought.

She fashions him she loved of angels' kind;
Such as in holy story were employ'd

To the first fathers from the Eternal Mind,
And in short vision only are enjoy'd.

As eagles, then, when nearest heaven they fly,
Of wild impossibles soon weary grow;
Feeling their bodies find no rest so high,

And therefore perch on earthly things below;
So now she yields; him she an angel deem'd
Shall be a man, the name which virgins fear;
Yet the most harmless to a maid he seem'd,
That ever yet that fatal name did bear.

Soon her opinion of his hurtless heart,
Affection turns to faith; and then love's fire

Р

To heaven, though bashfully, she does impart,
And to her mother in the heavenly quire.

'If I do love,' said she, 'that love, O Heaven!
Your own disciple, Nature, bred in me;
Why should I hide the passion you have given,
Or blush to show effects which you decree ?

'And you, my alter'd mother, grown above

Great Nature, which you read and reverenc'd here,
Chide not such kindness as you once call'd love,
When you as mortal as my father were.'

This said, her soul into her breast retires;

With love's vain diligence of heart she dreams
Herself into possession of desires,

And trusts unanchor'd hopes in fleeting streams.

She thinks of Eden-life; and no rough wind
In that pacific sea shall wrinkles make;
That still her lowliness shall keep him kind,
Her ears keep him asleep, her voice awake.

She thinks, if ever anger in him sway,

(The youthful warrior's most excus'd disease,) Such chance her tears shall calm, as showers allay

The accidental rage of winds and seas.

To this extract from 'Gondibert' we add, from Sir William Davenant's minor poems, the following very beautiful verses:

SONG.

The lark now leaves his watery nest,
And climbing shakes his dewy wings;
He takes his window from the east,

And to implore your light, he sings,
Awake, awake, the morn will never rise,
Till she can dress her beauty at your eyes.

The merchant bows unto the seaman's star,
The ploughman from the sun his season takes;

But still the lover wonders what they are,

Who look for day before his mistress wakes:
Awake, awake, break through your veils of lawn!
Then draw your curtains and begin the dawn.

RICHARD FANSHAWE was descended from an ancient family in Derbyshire, and was born at Ware Park, Hertfordshire, in 1607. He received the rudiments of his education from Thomas Farnaby, the most famous teacher of the age, and from under his care he passed to the university of Cambridge, where he remained until he had completed his studies. From the university Fanshawe went to the Continent, and by the means of intercourse with foreign nations for some years, he became highly accomplished both in mind and manners. His learning and ability so early distinguished

him, that, in 1635, when he was but twenty-eight years of age, he was sent by Charles the First as minister to the court of Spain, and at that court remained until 1641, when the precarious state of affairs at home requiring his presence, he was recalled; and through all the disastrous events which immediately followed, adhered unfalteringly to the royal cause. In 1644, attending the court at Oxford, Fanshawe had the degree of doctor of the civil law conferred upon him, and being immediately after made secretary to Charles, Prince of Wales, he attended the prince in that capacity, first into the western part of England, and then to the Scilly Isles, and to Jersey. In 1650, soon after the death of Charles the First, Fanshawe was created a baronet by Charles the Second, and sent as envoy extraordinary to the court of Spain; but was soon recalled thence to Scotland, where he, for some time, exercised the duties of Secretary of State. The struggle in Scotlandproved unfavorable to the interests of Charles, and Fanshawe, being taken prisoner by the parliamentary forces, was, for a long time, kept in close confinement in London. He was at length, however, set at liberty, and in 1659, repaired to the king at Breda, and was knighted by him in the April following. Soon after the Restoration, Sir Richard Fanshawe was sent as ambassador to Philip the Fourth of Spain, and in that capacity served' his country with signal ability until his death, which occurred at Madrid on the sixteenth of June, 1666, and in the sixtieth year of his age.

Though Fanshawe's life may be truly said to have been a life of business, yet in the midst of his various occupations, he still found time to devote much attention to literary pursuits. He was an elegant and accomplished scholar, and produced very acceptable translations of the Lusiad of Camoens from the Portuguese, and of the Pastor Fido of Guarini from the Italian ; with the latter of which he published some miscellaneous poems, from which the following are selected :--

A ROSE.

Thou blushing rose, within whose virgin leaves
The wanton wind to sport himself presumes,
Whilst from their rifled wardrobe he receives
For his wings purple, for his breath perfumes!

Blown in the morning, thou shalt fade ere noon:

What boots a life which in such haste forsakes thee?
Thou 'rt wondrous frolic being to die so soon:

And passing proud a little colour makes thee.

If thee thy brittle beauty so deceives,

Know, then, the thing that swells thee is thy bane;
For the same beauty doth in bloody leaves

The sentence of thy early death contain.

Some clown's coarse lungs will poison thy sweet flower,
If by the careless plough thou shalt be torn:

And many Herods lie in wait each hour

To murder thee as soon as thou art born;
Nay, force thy bud to blow; their tyrant breath
Anticipating life, to hasten death.

THE SAINT'S ENCOURAGEMENT.-A SONG,

Fight on, brave soldiers, for the cause;

Fear not the cavaliers;

Their threat'nings are as senseless, as

Our jealousies and fears.

'Tis you must perfect this great work,
And all malignants slay,

You must bring back the King again
The clean contrary way.

'Tis for Religion that you fight

And for the kingdom's good,

By robbing churches, plundering men,
And shedding guiltless blood.

Down with the orthodoxal train,

All loyal subjects slay;

When these are gone, we shall be blest,

The clean contrary way.

When Charles we've bankrupt made like us,

Of crown and power bereft him,

And all his loyal subjects slain,

And none but rebels left him.
When we've beggar'd all the land,
And sent our trunks away,

We'll make him then a glorious prince,
The clean contrary way.

'Tis to preserve his majesty,
That we against him fight,
Nor are we ever beaten back,
Because our cause is right:

If any make a scruple on't,
Our declarations say,

Who fight for us, fight for the king

The clean contrary way.

At Keynton, Branford, Plymouth, York,
And divers places more,

What victories we saints obtain'd

The like ne'er seen before!

How often we Prince Rupert kill'd,

And bravely won the day;

The wicked cavaliers did run
The clean contrary way.

The true religion we maintain,

The kingdom's peace and plenty;

The privilege of parliament

Not known to one of twenty;

The ancient fundamental laws;

And teach men to obey

Their lawful sovereign; and all these

The clean contrary way.

We subjects' liberties preserve,

By prisonments and plunder,
And do enrich ourselves and state
By keeping the wicked under.
We must preserve mechanics now,
To lecturize and pray;

By them the gospel is advanced
The clean contrary way.

And though the king be much misled
By that malignant crew!

He'll find us honest, and at last
Give all of us our due.

For we do wisely plot, and plot,

Rebellion to destroy,

He sees we stand for peace and truth,

The clean contrary way.

The public works shall save our souls,
And good out-works together;

And ships shall save our lives, that stay

Only for wind and weather.

But when our faith and works fall down,

And all our hopes decay,

Our acts will bear us up to heaven,

The clean contrary way.

SIR JOHN SUCKLING, whom we next notice, possessed such a natural liveliness of fancy, and exuberance of animal spirits, that he often broke through the artificial restraints imposed upon him by the literary taste of the age, but he never rose into the poetry of passion and imagination. He is a delightful writer of what are called 'occasional poems.' His polished wit, playful fancy, and knowledge of life and society enabled him to give interest to trifles, and to clothe familiar thoughts in the garb of poetry.

Suckling was born at Witham, in Essex, in 1608. He was of a very eminent family, his father Sir John Suckling being Secretary of State to James the First, and afterward Comptroller of the household of that monarch's successor, Charles. The poet was distinguished almost from his infancy, being able to speak Latin at five years of age, and to write it with accuracy at nine. When sixteen years old he entered into public life old he entered into public life as a soldier under the celebrated Gustavus Adolphus, with whom he served out an entire campaign. On his return to England he entered warmly into the cause of Charles the First, and raised a troop of horse in his support. He also intrigued with his brother cavaliers to rescue the Earl of Stratford, and was impeached by the House of Commons. To evade a trial he fled to France, but a fatal accident befell him on the way. His servant having robbed him at an inn, Suckling learning the circumstances, drew on his boots hurriedly to pursue him ; but a rusty nail, or the blade of a knife, had been concealed in one of them, which, wounding him, produced mortification, of which he soon after died, in 1641, and in his thirty-fourth year.