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" I speak not this with a false heart,
“ (Wherewith his hand she gently strain'd)
“ Or that would change a love maintain'd "* With so much love on either part.
Nay, I protest, though death with his
His terrors could not make me fear “ To come where
“ Only, if love's fire with the breath
« Of life be kindled, I doubt, “ With our last air 'twill be breath'd out, And quenched with the cold of death."
Then, with a look, it seem'd, denied
All earthly power but hers, yet so
As if to her breath he did owe This borrow'd life, he thus replied :
" And shall our love, so far beyond
« That low and dying appetite,
" And which so chaste desires unite, " Not hold in an eternal bond ?
" O no, beloved ! I am most sure
“ Those virtuous habits we acquire,
“ As being with the soul entire, " Must with it evermore endure.
“ Else should our souls in vain elect;
“ And vainer yet were heaven's laws,
“ When to an everlasting cause “They gave a perishing effect.
“ Nor here on earth then, nor above,
“ Our good affection can impair :
" For where God doth admit the fair, “ Think you that he excludeth love?
“ These eyes again thine eyes
see, “ And hands again these hands enfold;
" And all chaste pleasures can be told “ Shall with us everlasting be.
.6 For if no use of sense remain
" When bodies once this life forsake,
“ Or they could no delight partake, " Why should they ever rise again?
“ Let then no doubt, Celinda, touch, “ Much less your fairest mind invade :
Were not our souls immortal made, “ Our equal loves can make them such." The following Epitaph on himself (which is not noticed in
Walpole's Life of Lord Herbert) is too characteristic of the writer not to deserve insertion.
The monument which thou beholdest here,
Presents EDWARD LORD HERBERT to thy sight; A man so free from either hope or fear,
To have or lose this ordinary light,
He knew, that as those elements would fight,
With his Creator, peace, joy, truth, and love.
Born about 1581, entered at Corpus Christi College, Cam
bridge, in 1597, and took the degree of B. A. at Oxford, in 1600. Some time after this he went to Utrecht, where he wrote a comedy called “Hans Beer Pot's invisible Comedy," a work which has little to recommend it, except its rarity. But the following song, if it be (like the rest of the comedy) translated from the Dutch, may possibly be thought worth preserving, as a specimen of Batavian fancy.
WALKING in a shadowy grove,
Her looks did so astonish
Yet roused myself, to see this elf,
Her voice was sweet, melodiously
" Oh stay not long, but come, my dear,
With that she rose, like nimble roe,