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The miBty cloud that so eclipseth fame,
That gets reward a chaos of despite,

Is black revenge, which ever winneth shame,
A fury vile * that's hatched in the night:

Beware, seek not revenge against thy foe,

Lest once revenge thy fortune overgo.

These blazing comets do foreshow mishap;

Let not the naming lights offend thine eye : f Look ere thou leap, prevent an after-clap;

Theso three, forewarned, well may est thou fly: J If now by choice thou aiin'st at happy health, Eschew self-love, choose for the common-wealth.

FROM

ARBASTO.

(ed. 162i5.)

SONG.
Whereat erewhilo I wept, I laugh;

That which I fear'd, I now despise;
My victor once, my vassal is;

My foe constrain'd, my weal supplies:
Thus do I triumph on my foe;
I weep at weal, I laugh at woe.

My care is cur'd, yet hath no end;

Not that I want, but that I have; My charge was change, yet still I stay; I would have less, and yet I crave: Ay me, poor wretch, that thus do live, Constrain'd to take, yet fore'd to give!

She whoso delights are signs of death,

Who, when she smiles, begins to lour, Constant in this, that still she change, Her sweetest gifts time proves but sour: I live in care, cross'd with her guile; Through her I weep, at her I smile.

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Where chilling frost alato did nip,

There flasheth now a fire; Where deep disdain bred noisome hate,

There kindleth now desire.

Time causeth hope to have his hap:
What care in time not eas'd?

In time I loath'd that now I love,
In both content and plcas'd.

ALCIDA.

(ed. 1617.)

VERSES WRITTEN UNDER A PICTURE OF VENUS

nOLDINQ THE BALL TIIAT BROUGHT TROT TO RUIN.

When Nature forg'd the fair unhappy mould,
Wherein proud beauty took her matchless shape,
She over-slipp'd her cunning and her skill,
And aim'd too fair, but drew beyond the mark;
For, thinking to have made a heavenly bliss,
For wanton gods to dally with in heaven,
And to have fram'd a precious gem for men,
To solace all their dumpish thoughts with glee,
Sho wrought a plague, a poison, and a hell:
For gods, for men, thus no way wrought she well.
Venus was fair, fair was the Queen of Love,
Fairer than Pallas, or the wife of Jove;
Yet did the giglot'B* beauty grieve the smith,
For that she brav'd the creeplet with a horn.
Mars said, her beauty was the star of heaven,
Yet did her beauty stain him with disgrace.
Paris for fair + gave her the golden bull,
Aud bought his and his father's ruin Bo.
Thus Nature making what should far excell,
Lent gods and men a poison aud a hell.

VERSES

WRITTEN UNDER A PICTURE OF A PEACOCK.

The bird of Juno glories in his plumes;

Pride makes the fowl to prune his feathers so:

His 6potted train, fetch'd from old Argus' head,

With golden rays like to the brightest sun,

Inserteth self-love in a silly bird,

Till, midBt his hot and glorious § fumes,

He spies his feet, and then lets fall his plumes.

* ffiglut'*] See noto t, p. 306, sec. col.

t creepU) A form of erippU, sometimes used by old writers.

t fair] i. e. bcanty.

§ and glorious] The 4to. ".in glorious."—Qj. "and his vain-glorious "?

Beauty breeds pride, pride batcheth forth disdain,
Disdain gets hate, and hate calls for revenge,
Revenge with bitter prayers urgeth still;
Thus self-love, nursing up the pomp of pride,
Makes beauty wreck against an ebbing tide.

VERSES

WRITTEN UNDER A CARVING Or MERCURY
THROWING FEATHERS UNTO THE WIND.

The richest gift the wealthy heaven affords,
The pearl of price sent from immortal Jove,
The shape wherein wo most resemble gods,
The fire Prometheus stole from lofty skies;
This gift, this pearl, this shape, this fire is it,
Which makes us men bold by the name of wit.
By wit we search divine aspect abovo.
By wit wo learn what secrets science yields,
By wit we speak, by wit the mind is rul'd,
By wit we govern all our actions;
Wit is the load-star of each human thought,
Wit is the tool by which all things are wrought.
The brightest jacinth hot becometh dark;
Of little 'stcem is crystal being crack'd;
Fino heads that can conceit no good but ill,
Forge oft that breedeth ruin to thomsclves;
Ripe wits abus'd that build on bad desire,
Do burn themselves, like flies within the fire.

VERSES

WRITTEN UNDER A CARVING OF CUPID BLOWING
BLADDERS IN THE AIR.

Love is a lock that linketh noble minds,
Faith is the key that shuts the spring of love,
Lightness a wrest that wringeth all awry,
Lightness a plague that fancy cannot brook;
Lightness in love Bo bad and base a thing,
As foul disgrace to greatest states do[th] bring.

VERSES WRITTEN ON TWO TABLES AT A TOMB.

ON THE FIRST TABLE.

The Graces in their glory never gave

A rich or greater good to womankind,

That more impales their honours with the palm

Of high renown, than matchless constancy.

Beauty is vain, accounted but a flower,

Whose painted hue fades with the summer sun;

Wit oft hath wreck by self-conceit of pride; Riches are trash that fortune boasteth on. Constant in love who tries a woman's mind, Wealth, beauty, wit, and all in her doth find.

ON THE SECOND TABLE.

The fairest gem, oft blemish'd with a crack,

Loseth his beauty and his virtue too;

The fairest flower, nipt with the winter's frost,

In show seems worser than the basest weed;

Virtues are oft far overstain'd with faults.

Were she as fair as Phoebo in her sphere,

Or brighter than the paramour of Mars,

Wiser than Pallas, daughter unto Jove,

Of greater majesty than Juno was,

More chaste than Vesta, goddess of the maids,

Of greater faith than fair Lucretia;

Be she a blab, and tattles what she hears,

Want to be secret gives far greater stains

Than virtue's glory which in her remains.

MADRIGAL.*

Rest thee, desire, gaze not at such a star;

Sweet fancy, sleep; love, take a nap awhile; My busy thoughts that reach and roam so far,

With pleasant dreams the length of time be-
guile;
Fair Venus, cool my over-heated breast,
And let my fancy take her wonted rest.

Cupid abroad was lated in the night,
His wings were wet with ranging in the rain;

Harbour he sought, to mo he took his flight,
To dry his plumes: I heard the boy complain;

My door I op'd, to grant him his desire,

And rose myself to make the wag a fire.

Looking more narrow by the fire's flame,
I spied his quiver hanging at his back :'

I fear'd the child might my misfortune frame,
I would have gone for fear of further wrack;

And what I drad (poor man) did me betide,

For forth he drew an arrow from his Bide.

He piere'd the quick, that I began to start;

The wound was sweet, but that it was too high, And yet the pleasure had a pleasing Bmart:

This done, he flies away, his wings were dry; But left his arrow still within my breast, That now I grieve I welcom'd such a guest.

"Tho three last stanzas of this raadripU arc in the Orpharion with sonic variations: seo p. 317, first coL

FROM

GREENE'S VISION.*

DESCRIPTION OF CHAUCER. His Btature was not very tall; Lean lie was; his legs were small, Hos'd within a Btoekt of red; A button'd bonnet on his head, From under which did hang, I ween, Silver hairs both bright and sheen; His beard was white, trimmed round; His countenance blithe and merry found; A sleeveless jacket, large and wide, With many plaits and skirts side,J Of water-camlet did he wear; A whittle§ by his belt he bear; His shoes were corned ||, broad before; His ink-horn at his side he wore, And in his hand ho bore a book :— Thus did this ancient poet look.

DESCRIPTION OF GOWER. Large he was; his height was long; Broad of breast; his limbs were strong; But colour pale, and wan his look,— Such have they that plyen their book; His head was grey and quaintly shorn; Neatly was his beard worn; His visage grave, stern, and grim,— Cato was most like to him; His bonnet was a hat of blue; His sleeves strait, of that same hue; A surcoat of a tawny dye Hung in plaits over his thigh; A breechlf close unto his dock, Handsom'd with a long stock;

Prick'd before were his shoon,*—
He wore such as others doon; t
A bag of red by his side,
And by that his napkin tied:—
Thus John Gower did appear,
Quaint attired, as you hear.

PASSAGES QUOTED FKOM GREENE LN

ENGLAND'S PARNASSUS.

(1000.)

He that will stop the brook, must then begin
When summer's heat hath dried up the spring,
And when his pittering streams are low and thin;
For let the winter aid unto them bring,
He grows to be of watery floods the king;
And though you dam him up with lofty ranks,
Yet will he quickly over-flow his banks.

p. 55, tub "Delay."

It was the month in which the righteous maid,
That, for disdain of sinful world's upbraid,
Fled back to heaven, where she was first conceiv'd,
Into her silver bower tho sun receiv'd;
And the hot Sirian Dog, on him awaiting,
After the chafed Lion's cruel baiting,
Corrupted had tho air with noisome breath,
And pour'd on earth plague, pestilence, and
death.J p. 369, tub "Augiut."

* Beo List of Grunt a prose-tcorks, vol.

t stock] i. o. stocking.
J tide] i. o. long.
§ whittle] i. c. knife.
][ corrtid] i. c. pointed.
A breech] i. e. Breeches.

p. 80 of the present

'Prick'd .... ihoon] i. e. Pointed .... shoes, t doon] i. e. done,—do.

{ death] Old ed. "dearth."—Tho later part of this
fragment resombles one of Pope'a flourishes upon Homer;
"Not half so dreadful rises to the Bight,
Thro' the thick gloom of some tempestuous night,
Orion's dog (tho year when Autumn weighs),
And o'er tho feebler stars exerts his rays;
Terrific glory! for his burning breath
Taints the red air with fevers, plagues, and death."
Compare the simplicity of tho original;

n«/*p«/i«3-', *rT »rri(, WirirvftttBr Tl&ivt,
Os p« T* «t«;»js iTrir' x. r. A.—II. xxii. 20.

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