WILLIAM ALEXANDER,

OF MENSTRIE, EARL OF STERLINE,

Was born in 1580. Having been early distinguished for his proficiency in classical learning, he was recommended to the Earl of Argyle as a companion in his travels. After some time spent abroad he returned to a rural retirement in Scotland, where he finished his “Aurora,” a collection of sonnets, &c. in honour of his first mistress, to whom he had become attached at the early age of fifteen, before leaving his own country. This lady, however, proving cruel, and bestowing her hand upon another and more aged admirer, he consoled himself by marrying Janet, the daughter and heir of Sir William Erskine. He was now warmly patronised by James I., who made him in 1613 gentleman-usher to Prince Charles, and in 1614 knighted him. By Charles I. he was in 1630 appointed secretary of state for Scotland (a post which he retained with credit till his death); and in 1633 created Earl of Sterline. He died in 1640.

His works consist of "Darius," 1603, Edinburgh, 4to, reprinted in London the following year: to which in 1607 were added three others: viz. "Crœsus," "The Alexandrian Tragedy," and "Julius Cæsar," making together a small quarto, with the general title of "The Monarchicke Tragedies newly enlarged." These were again printed, with alterations, in a minute 12mo, in 1616, London, professing to be the third edition. "Aurora," 1604, 4to. A Parænesis to the Prince," 1604, 4to. Doomsday,"

66

66

a sacred poem in twelve parts, Edinburgh, 1614, 4to, and London, 1641, 4to, and "Jonathan, an Heroicke Poem

intended. The first booke." All these various works, excepting" Aurora," were, in 1637, with many changes and amendments, collected into one volume folio, under the title of " Recreations with the Muses."

For further particulars of our author, who deserves considerable praise as a masculine and vigorous writer, abounding with moral and political instruction, see Lang. baine, Cibber (i. e. Shiell), the Biographia Britannica, and Pinkerton's list prefixed to his Ancient Scotish Poems, 1786.

Extract from a Speech of Colia, in the Tragedy of Cræsus.

[The text is printed from ed. 1637, which agrees almost exactly with ed. 1616.-The various readings at the foot of the page are from ed. 1607.]

*

FIERCE tyrant, Death, who' in thy wrath didst take

2

One half of me, and left one half behind,

Take this to thee, or give the other3 back,

4

Be wholly cruel, or be no way' kind!

But whilst I live, believe, thou canst not dieO! e'en in spite of death, yet still my choice! Oft, with the inward all-beholding eye

8

I think I see thee, and I hear thy voice.

And, to content my languishing desire,

To ease my mind each thing1 some help affords : Thy fancied form doth oft' such faith acquire,

4

That in all sounds I apprehend thy words.

Then, with such thoughts my memory to wound,

I call to mind thy looks, thy words, thy graceWhere thou didst haunt, yet I adore the ground! And where thou stept-O sacred seems that place!

My solitary walks, my widow'd bed,

My dreary sighs, my sheets oft bath'd with tears, These shall record what life by me is led 5

Since first sad news breath'd death into mine ears.

Though for more pain yet spar'd a space by Death",
Thee first I lov'd, with thee all love I leave ;
For my chaste flames, which quench'd were with
thy breath',

Can kindle now no more but in thy grave!

3.66 I fancy whiles thy form-and then a-fire."

4 "In every sound."

5 Ed. 1607 and 1616, "can record the life that I have led."

6 "I live but with despair my sprite to dash."

7 6 extinguish'd in thy ash."

SONG.

[From "Aurora."]

OH would to God a way were found
That by some secret sympathy unknown
My fair my fancy's depth might sound,
And know my state as clearly as her own!
Then blest, most blest were I:
No doubt beneath the sky,
I were the happiest wight:
For if my state they knew,
It ruthless rocks would rue,

And mend me if they might.

*

The deepest rivers make least din,

The silent soul doth most abound in care : Then, might my breast be read within,

A thousand volumes would be written there. Might silence show my mind,

Sighs tell how I were pin'd,

Or looks my woes relate;

Then any pregnant wit,

That well remarked it,

Would soon discern my state.

Oft, those that do deserve disdain

For forging fancies get the best reward;
Where I, who feel what they do feign,

For too much love am had in no regard.
Behold, by proof we see,

The gallant living free

His fancies doth extend:

Where he that is o'ercome,

Rein'd with respects, stands dumb,
Still fearing to offend.

Then, since in vain I plaints impart
To scornful years, in a contemned scroll,
And since my tongue betrays my heart,
And cannot tell the anguish of my soul;
Henceforth I'll hide

my

losses,

And not recount the crosses

That do my joys o'erthrow;

At least, to senseless things,

Mounts, vales, woods, floods, and springs,

I shall them only show.

Ah! unaffected lines,

True models of my heart!

The world may see that in you shines

The power of passion, more than art.