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The following Rhomboidal Dirge, is inserted on account of its . singularity. .
. · Ah me!
Am I the swain,
That late, from
sorrow free, Did all the cares on earth disdain ? " . And still untouch'd, as at some safer games, Play'd with the burning coals of love and beauty's flames? Was't I, could dive, and sound each passion's secret depth at will. And from those huge o'erwhelmings rise by help of reason still?
And am I now, O heavens ! for trying this in vain,
So sunk, that I shall never rise again?!
And I will sing
Ah me! . . :, 1
But why, . .iiii.
O fatal time,
I, but a while ago, you cruel powers, ?, isto
Yet I, poor 1, must perish ne'ertheless ;
Unmoaned I must die,
And no man e'er . Know why!
Her love above my life ; and that I died hers.
And now farewell, thou place of my unhappy birth,
Since me my wonted joys forsake,
Of all I take
You wanton brooks, and solitary rocks;
You discontents, whose deep and over-deadly smart
And others joy,
Let garlands of sad yew
For, oh! I feel
My hopeless heart, despairing of relief,
A dimness shuts my eye;
Author of “ The English Gentleman and Gentlewoman,"
born in Westmoreland, 1588, entered at Oriel College, Oxford, 1604, where he continued about three years. He then removed to Cambridge, and retiring into his native county, afterwards became a trained-band captain, a deputy lieutenant, a justice of peace, and a noted wit and poet. He died in 1673, at Appleton, in Yorkshire, where he went to reside after his second marriage, leaving behind him, says Wood, the character of a well-bred gentleman and a good neighbour. His publications were numerous. Vide Athen. Oxon. Vol. II. p. 516. The latter of the following pieces was selected from a work not enumerated by Wood.
[From the “ Shepherd's Tales," annexed to “ Nature's
“Embassie,” 1621, 8vo.]
If marriage life yields such content,
What heavy hap have I!
Wish death, yet cannot die.
When I am cheerful too.
Or counterpoise my wo?
My marriage-day chac'd you ' away,
For I have found it true,
Became a bed of rue;
And beauty's blossom too:
Or counterpoise my wo?
I thought love was the lamp of life,
No life withouten love;
Which when I sought to prove,
For ought that I could know;
Then who can cure my wo?
My board no dishes can afford
But chafing-dishes all!
To keep poor me in thrall.
My friend she vows her foe: