The outside of his doublet was

Made of the four-leav'd true-love grass:

On every seam there was a lace

Drawn by the unctuous snail's slow trace;
To it the purest silver thread
Compar'd did look like dull pale lead.
Each button was a sparkling eye ·
Ta'en from the speckled adder's fry,
Which in a gloomy night and dark
Twinkled like a fiery spark :

And, for coolness, next his skin,
"Twas with white poppy lin'd within.

*

A rich mantle he did wear

Made of tinsel gossamer,
Be-starred over with a few
Diamond drops of morning dew.

His cap was all of ladies'-love;
So passing light, that it did move,
If any humming gnat or fly
But buzz'd the air in passing by.
About it was a wreath of pearl,

Dropp'd from the eyes of some poor girl

Pinch'd because she had forgot
To leave fair water in the pot.
And, for feather, he did wear
Old Nisus' fatal purple hair.

The sword they girded on his thigh Was smallest blade of finest rye.

A pair of buskins they did bring, Of the cow-lady's coral wing, Powder'd o'er with spots of jet, And lin'd with purple violet. His belt was made of myrtle leaves, Plaited in small curious threaves, Beset with amber cowslip studs, And fring'd about with daisy, buds; In which his bugle horn was hung, Made of the babbling Echo's tongue; Which, set unto his moon-burn'd lip, He winds, and then his fairies skip. At that the lazy dawn 'gan sound, And each did trip a fairy round.

THOMAS FLATMAN,

A miserable imitator of Cowley, was born about 1635, educated at Winchester School, and New College, Oxford, and becoming afterwards a barrister of the Inner Temple, neglected the law to pursue his inclination to painting and poetry. "Some of his tasteless contemporaries," says Mr. Granger, "thought him equally excellent in both; but "one of his heads is worth a ream of his pindarics, I had "almost said, all the pindarics written in this reign. He "really excelled as an artist: a man must want an ear for "harmony, that can admire his poetry, and even want "eyes that can cease to admire his painting." Notwithstanding, the duke of Ormond was so pleased with Flatman's ode on the death of his son, the earl of Ossory, that he sent him a diamond ring worth 100l.; and Phillips, by no means an indiscriminate panegyrist, commends his ingenuity in poetry as well as painting. The first edition of his poems appeared in 1674, the fourth in 1682. His death took place in 1688. Vide Walpole's Anecdotes of Painting in England. "This person," says Wood, (Ath. II. 826)" was in his 66 younger days much against marriage,-and made a song describing the cumbrances of it, beginning thus"Like a dog with a bottle tied close to his tail; "Like a tory in a bog, or a thief in a jail," &c.

"But being afterwards smitten with a fair virgin, and more "with her fortune, did espouse her, 26th Nov. 1672; "whereupon his ingenious comrades did serenade him "that night, while he was in the embraces of his mistress, "with the said song."

Of the three following extracts, the first is in the best style of his poetry; the second a specimen of his wit; and the third is remarkable from its having been imitated by Mr. Pope in his ode of "The Dying Christian."

୧

SONG.

The Renegado.

REMOV'D from fair Urania's eyes
Into a village far away,

Fond Astrophil began to say: "Thy charms, Urania, I despise !

"Go, bid some other shepherd for thee die "That never understood thy tyranny !”

Return'd at length, the amorous swain,
Soon as he saw his deity,

Ador'd again and bow'd his knee,
Became her slave, and wore her chain.
The needle thus, that motionless did lie,
Trembles and moves when the lov'd loadstone's

nigh.

Bachelor's Song.

Second Part.

How happy a thing were a wedding,

And a bedding,

If a man might purchase a wife

For a twelvemonth and a day:

But to live with her all a man's life,

For ever and for aye;

Till she grow as grey as a cat,——

Good faith, Mr. parson, I thank you for that.

A Thought of Death.

[From 20 lines.]

WHEN on my sick bed I languish,
Full of sorrow, full of anguish ;
Fainting, gasping, trembling, crying,
Panting, groaning, speechless, dying,-

Methinks I hear some gentle spirit say,
Be not fearful, come away!