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She useth the advantage fortune gave
Of worth and power to get the liberty.
Earth, sea, heaven, hell, are subject to love's laws,
But I, poor I, must suffer and know no cause.

SIR HENRY WOTTON,

Born in 1568; was early distinguished by the acuteness of his mind, and by versatility of talent. After an academical education, he spent nine years in travelling; during which he formed an acquaintance with all the most learned men in Europe, and acquired a considerable reputation by his proficiency in the fine arts. On his return to England, his accomplishments recommended him to the friendship of the earl of Essex ; after whose execution he retired to Flo

rence, where he staid till the death of Queen Elizabeth. ' Having been employed by the great duke of Tuscany in an

embassy into Scotland, for the purpose of communicating to King James the account of a conspiracy against his life, which the great duke had discovered, he acquired the con. fidence of that monarch, and retained it during the whole

of his reign. For the particulars of his very curious life, great part of which he passed in foreign embassies, and other scenes of political activity; and which he terminated in 1639 (after entering into holy orders), in the situation of Provost of Eton; the reader is referred to the circumstantial biography of Izaac Walton, or to the summary contained in the Biographical Dictionary.

SONNET.

You meaner beauties of the night,
· Which poorly satisfy our eyes
More by your number than your light,

You common people of the skies,
What are you, when the sun doth rise ?

Ye violets that first appear,

By your pure purple mantles known,
Like the proud virgins of the year,

As if the spring were all your own,
What are you, when the rose is blown!

Ye curious chanters of the wood,

'That warble forth dame nature's lays, Thinking your passions understood

By your weak accents, what's your praise
When Philomel her voice doth raise ?

So, when my mistress shall be seen

In sweetness of her looks, and mind;
By virtues first, then choice, a queen,

Tell me, if she was not design’d
Th’ eclipse and glory of her kind ?

STANZÀS,

[From the Reliquiæ Wottonianæ, 1072.)

HEART-TEARING cares, and quivering fears,
Anxious sighs, untimely tears,
Fly, fly to courts,
Fly to fond worldlings' sports,
Where strain'd Sardonic smiles are glosing still,
And grief is forc'd to laugh against her will ;

Where mirth’s but mummery,
And sorrows only real be.

Fly from our country pastimes ! fly,
Sad troop of human nisery !
Come, serene looks,
Clear as the crystal brooks,
Or the pure azure heav’; that smiles to see,
The rich attendance of our poverty.

Peace and a secure mind,
Which all men seek, we only find.

Abused mortals ! did you know
Where joy, hearts-ease, and comforts grow,
You'd scorn proud towers,
And seek them in these bowers :

Where winds sometimes our woods perhaps may

shake, .
But blust'ring care could never tempest make;

Nor murmurs e'er come nigh us,
Saving of fountains that glide by us.

Here's no fantastic mask, nor dance,
But of our kids, that frisk and prance ;
Nor wars are seen,
Unless upon the green
Two harmless lambs are butting one another,
Which done, doth bleating run each to his mother;

And wounds are never found
Save what the plough-share gives the ground.

Go! let the diving Negro seek
For gems, hid in some forlorn creek,
We all pearls scorn,
Save what the dewy morn
Congeals upon each little spire of grass,
Which careless shepherds beat down as they pass ;

And gold ne'er here appears
Save what the yellow Ceres bears.

Blest, silent groves ! O may ye be
For ever mirth's best nursery!
May pure contents
For ever pitch their tents

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