Then dance again and kiss :
Thus several ways the time did pass,
Till every woman wish'd her place,

And every man wish'd his.

By this time all were stol'n aside
To counsel and undress the bride :-

But that he must not know :-
But yet 'twas thought he guess'd her mind,
And did not mean to stay behind

Above an hour or so.

When in he came, Dick, there she lay,
Like new-fall’n snow melting away :

('Twas time, I trow, to part.)
Kisses were now the only stay,
Which soon she gave, as who would say,

“Good boy! with all my heart.”

But just as heavens would have, to cross it,
In came the bride-maids with the posset ;

The bridegroom ate in spite ;
For had he left the women to ’t,
It would have cost two hours to do ’t,

Which were too much that night.

At length the candle's out, and now
All that they had not done they do ;

What that is, who can tell ?
But I believe it was no more
Than thou and I have done before

With Bridget and with Nell.

SIR JOHN DENHAM,

“ DESERVEDLY considered,” says Dr. Johnson, “ as one of the fathers of English poetry,” was born in Dublin, 1615, and entered in 1631 gentleman-commoner at Trinity College, Oxford, where it is said he was chiefly addicted to gaming, and exhibited no signs of genius ; and that his tragedy, “ The Sophy,” which he wrote in 1641, and his beautiful poem on Cooper's Hill, composed soon after, were received by the world with astonishment. Waller said, “he broke out like the Irish Rebellion, threescore thousand strong, when nobody was aware, or in the least suspected it.” Though but an indifferent soldier, his address and knowledge of mankind were often of service to Charles I., and after the restoration he was much admired by Charles II., who is said to have frequently suggested the subjects of his poetry. He died in 1668.

Vide Wood's Athenæ, ii. 422, and Dr. Johnson's Lives.

His poems were printed, together with “ The Sophy,” a tragedy, in 1668, 8vo, again in 1671, and repeatedly afterwards. His Version of the Psalms, which Wood never saw, did not appear, I believe, till 1714, when it was published in 8vo, from the original MS.

SONG.

MORPHEUS, the humble god that dwells
In cottages and smoky cells,
Hates gilded roofs, and beds of down;
And, though he fears no prince's frown,
Flies from the circle of a crown.

Come, I say, thou powerful god,
And thy leaden charming rod,
Dipp'd in the Lethean lake,
O’er his wakeful temples shake,
Lest he should sleep, and never wake.

Nature, alas! why art thou so
Obliged to thy greatest foe?
Sleep, that is thy best repast,
Yet of death it bears a taste,
And both are the same thing at last.

JOHN TATHAM.

GRANGER says, he was erroneously called City Poet, but has omitted to give his reasons for this assertion; which, indeed, is contradicted by a pageant written by Tatham in celebration of Sir John Frederick's mayoralty in 1661, and preserved in the British Museum.

He was the author of four plays ; of“ Fancy's Theatre,” a volume of poems, printed in 1640, 12mo, and of “Ostella, or the Faction of Love and Beauty reconciled,” 1650, 4to, a scarce volume, though not otherwise valuable. The following specimen, taken from the latter collection, is very near being elegant.

The Swallow.

Mark, Ostella, when the Spring
Hath dissolv’d the frosty king,
And reseats herself on earth,
Giving flowers and plants a birth ;
When the glorious sun doth shine
Full of heat, as do thy eyn;

Then, oh then, to us will come,
To our cottage, to our home,
An amorous guest, who will salute
You from the chimney-top with flute-