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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, as the prefix denotes, it is highly creditable to his taste.
So glides along the wanton brook
With gentle pace into the main, Courting the banks with amorous look
He never means to see again.
And so does Fortune use to smile
Upon the short-liv'd favourite's face, Whose swelling hopes she doth beguile,
And always casts him in the race.
And so doth the fantastic boy,
The god of the ill-manag’d flames, Who ne'er kept word in promis’d joy
To lover, nor to loving dames.
So all alike will constant prove,
EDWARD LORD HERBERT
This noble author is little known as an English poet, and it
must be confessed that his younger son, Henry Herbert, who collected and published his poetry, shewed more piety than taste by that publication. Its title is “ Occasional - Verses of Edward Lord Herbert, Baron of Cherbery and “ Castle-island, deceased in August, 1648.” 1665, 12mo. The following, selected from an Ode of 35 stanzas, are the most tolerable verses in this little volume.
An Ode upon a Question moved, whether Love should
continue for ever?
Having interr'd her infant birth,
The watery ground that late did mourn
Was strew'd with flowers, for the return
The well-accorded birds did sing
Their bymns unto the pleasant time,
And in a sweet consorted chime
To which, soft whistles of the wind,
And warbling murmurs of a brook,
And varied notes of leaves that shook, And harmony of parts did bind.
When, with a love none can express,
That mutually happy pair,
Walking thus tow'rds a pleasant grove, Which did, it seem'd, in new delight
The pleasures of the time unite, To give a triumph to their love,
They staid at last, and on the grass
She bow'd her gracious head to rest, Such a weight as no burthen was.
Long their fix'd eyes to heaven bent,
Unchanged, they did never move,
As if so great and pure a love No glass but it could represent.
When with a sweet though troubled look
She first brake silence, saying, “ Dear friend,
“ () that our love might take no end, “ Or never had beginning took !
“ 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
“ Worst counsel should divide us here,
" His terrors could not make me fear “To come where your lov'd presence is.
“ 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 :