Extract from a Chorus in "Julius Cæsar." THIS life of ours is like a rose, Which, whilst it beauties rare array, Doth then enjoy the least repose; When, virgin-like, it blush we see, Then is't of every hand the prey, Yea, though from violence 'scaped free, Yet doth it languish and decay. So, whilst the courage hottest boils, And that our life seems best to be, It is with danger compast still, Of which, though none it chance to kill, * Since, as a ship amidst the deeps, That it may hence with haste remove- Then whence, and as it came, goes bare, Why should heav'n-banish'd souls thus love And with such pain why should they reave That which they have no right to have, Which, with themselves, within short while, As summer's beauties, must decay, And can give nought except the grave ? SONG. [From the Aurora.] O WOULD to God a way were found, 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. Sighs tell how I were pin'd, 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; For too much love am had in no regard. His fancies doth extend; Where he that is o'ercome, Rein'd with respects, stands dumb, Then since in vain I plaints impart To scornful ears, in a contemned scroll, And not recount the crosses At least, to senseless things, Mounts, vales, woods, floods, and springs, Ah! unaffected lines, True models of my heart; The world may see that in you shines The power of passion, more than art. WILLIAM HERBERT, EARL OF PEMBROKE. The character of this nobleman is (as lord Orford has already observed) most admirably drawn by lord Clarendon. (Hist. Rebellion, Vol. I. p. 57.) A collection of poems, partly written by him, partly by Sir Benjamin Ruddier, and partly (as it should seem) transcribed from other writers, was published in 1660, in one volume 8vo. If the following poem be really his, it is highly creditable to his taste. A SONNET. So glides along the wanton brook, And so does fortune use to smile Upon the short-lived fav'rite's face, Whose swelling hopes she does beguile, And always casts him in the race. |