X.

On SHAKESPEAR. 1630.

W

HAT needs my Shakespear for his honor'd

The labor of an age in piled stones, [bones Or that his hallow'd reliques should be hid Under a star-ypointing pyramid ? Dear son of memory, great heir of fame, What need it thou such weak witness of thy name? Thou in our wonder and astonishment Haft built thyself a live-long monument. For whilst to th' shame of Now-endevoring art Thy easy numbers flow, and that each heart Hath from the leaves of thy unvalued book Those Delphic lines with deep impression took, Then thou our fancy of itself bereaving, Dost make us marble with too much conceiving And so fepulcher'd in such pomp dost lie, IS That kings for such a tomb would wish to die.

XI.

H

On the University Carrier, who ficken'd in the time

of his vacancy, being forbid to go to London, by reason of the plague. ERE lies old Hobson; Death hath broke his

And here alas, hath laid him in the dirt, [girt, Or else the ways being foul, twenty to ome, He's here stuck in a sough, and overthrown. 'Twas such a Mifter, that if truth were known, 5 Death was half glad when he had got him down For he had any time this ten years full, Dodg'd with him, betwixt Cambridge and the Bull.

And

And surely Death could never have prevaild,
Had not his weekly course of carriage fail'd ;
But lately finding him so long at home,
And thinking now his journey's end was come,
And that he had ta'en up his latest inn,
In the kind office of a chamberlin
Show'd him his room where he must lodge that night,
Pullid off his boots, and took away the light :
If any ask for him, it shall be said,
Hobson has supt, and's newly gone to bed.

XII.

Another on the same.

H

JO

ERE lieth one, who did most truly prove

That he could never die while he could move; So hung his destiny, never to rot While he might still jogg on and keep his trot, Made of sphere-metal, never to decay

S Until his revolution was at stay.

Time numbers motion, yet (without a crime 'Gainst old truth) motion number'd out his time : And like an engin mov'd with wheel and weight, His principles being ceas’d, he ended strait. Rest that gives all men life, gave him his death, And too much breathing put him out of breath ; Nor were it contradiction to affirm Too long vacation haftend on his term. Merely to drive the time away he fickend, is Fainted, and died, nor would with ale be quicken'd; Nay, quoth he, on his swooning hed out-stretch'd, If I mayn't carry, sure I'll ne'er be fetch'd, But vow, though the cross doctors all stood hearers, For one carrier put down to make fix bearers.

Ease

20

P a

Éase was his chief disease, and to judge right,
He dy'd for heaviness that his cart went light :
His leifure told him that his time was come,
And lack of load made his life burdensome,
That even to his last breath (there be that lay't) 25
As he were press’d to death, he cry'd more weigtit;
But had his doings lasted as they were,
He had been an immortal carrier.
Obedient to the moon he spent his date
In course reciprocal, and had his fate
Link’d to the mutual flowing of the seas,
Yet (strange to think) his wain was his increase;
His letters are deliver'd all and gone,
Only remains this superscription.

XIII.

30

L' ALLEGRO.

H

.

ENCE loathed Melancholy,

Of Cerberus and blackest Midnight bora, In Stygian cave forlorn

{holy, 'Mongst horrid shapes, and shrieks, and lights unFind out fome uncouth cell,

5 Where brooding darkness spreads his jealous wings, And the night raven fings;

There under ebon shades, and low-brow'd rocks, As ragged as thy locks,

In dark Cimmerian defert ever dwell.
But come thou Goddess fair and free,
In Heav'n ycleap'd Euphrofyne,
And by men, heart-easing Mirth,
Whom lovely Venus at a birth
With two filter Graces more
To ivy-crowned Bacchus bore ;

or

25

30

Or whether (as some fager sing)
The frolic wind that breathes the spring,
Zephyr with Aurora playing,
As he met her once a Maying,
There on beds of violets blue,
And fresh-blown roses wash'd in dew,
Fill'd her with thee a daughter fair,
So boxom, blithe, and debonair.
Hafte thee Nymph, and bring with thee
Jest and youthful Jollity,
Quips and Cranks, and wanton Wiles,
Nods and Becks, and wreathed Smiles,
Such as hang on Hebe's cheek,
And love to live în dimple fleek;
Sport that wrinkled Care derides,
And Laughter holding both his sides.
Come, and trip it as you go
On the light fantastic toe,
And in thy right hand lead with thee,
The mountain nymph, fweet Liberty;
And if I give thee honor due,
Mirth, admit me of thy crew
To live with her, and live with thee,
In unreproved pleasures free;
To hear the lark begin his flight,
And Inging startle the dull night,
From his watch-tow'r in the skies,
Till the dappled dawn doth rise ;
Then to come in spite of sorrow,
And at my window bid good morrow,
Through the sweet briar, or the vine,
Or the twisted eglantine ;
While the cock with lively din
Scatters the rear of darkness thin,
And to the stack, or the barn-door,
Stoutly struts his dames before :

3

Oft lift'ning how the hounds and horn
Chearly rouse the flumb’ring morn,
From the side of some hoar hill,

55
Through the high wood echoing thrill :
Some time walking not unseen
By hedge-row elms, on hillocs green,
Right against the eastern gate,
Where the great fun begins his state,

60 Rob'd in flames, and amber light, The clouds in thousand liveries dight, While the plow-man near at hand Whistles o'er the furrow'd land, And the milkmaid fingeth blithe, And the mower whets his sithe, And every shepherd tells his tale Under the hawthorn in the dale. Strait mine eye hath caught new pleasures Whilst the landskip round it measures, Russet lawns, and fallows gray, Where the nibbling flocks do stray, Mountains on whose barren breast The lab’ring clouds do often rest, Meadows trim with dailies pied,

75 Shallow brooks, and rivers wide. Towers and battlements it fees Bosom'd high in tufted trees, Where perhaps fome beauty lies, The Cynosure of neighb'ring eyes. Hard by, a cottage chimney smokes, From betwixt two aged oaks, Where Corydon and Thyrsis mét, Are at their favory dinner set Of herbs, and other country messes,

85 Which the neat-handed Phillis dresses ; And then in håste her bow'r she leaves, With Theftylis to bind the fheaves;

Or