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"WHY SO PALE AND WAN, FOND LOVER?”

BY SIR JOHN SUCKLING.

[SIR JOHN SUCKLING was born at Witham, in Middlesex, in 1609, and was educated under the superintendence of his father, who was Secretary of State to James I. and comptroller of the household to Charles I. When he had completed his studies, young Suckling went abroad, and travelled through various countries. He served in Germany, under Gustavus Adolphus of Sweden; and, when he returned to England, associated with the most celebrated wits of the time. Attempting, with others, to deliver Strafford from the Tower, he was ordered to appear at the bar of the House of Commons; but, instead of obeying, he set out for France. While stopping at an inn on the road, Suckling was robbed by his servant, who, to prevent pursuit, stuck the blade of a penknife inside his master's boot, and when Sir John, in haste, attempted to draw it on, he received a wound, of which he died. This was in 1641.]

WHY SO pale and wan, fond lover?

Prithee, why so pale?

Will, when looking well can't move her,

Looking ill prevail?

Prithee, why so pale?

Why so dull and mute, young sinner?

Prithee, why so mute?

Will, when speaking well can't win her,

Saying nothing do't?

Prithee, why so mute?

Quit, quit for shame, this will not move,

This cannot take her;

If of herself she will not love,

Nothing can make her:

The devil take her.

"I LOVE (AND HAVE SOME CAUSE TO LOVE) THE EARTH."

BY FRANCIS QUARLES.

[FRANCIS QUARLES was born near Romford in Essex, in 1592: was educated at Cambridge, and afterwards became a student of Lincoln's Inn. He was cupbearer to Elizabeth, daughter of James I. until her husband became King of Bohemia; he was then made Secretary to Archbishop Usher in Ireland; and afterwards Chronologer to the City of London. He died in 1644; his death being accelerated, it is supposed, by the ill treatment he received from the Republicans.

Quarles' "Divine Emblems" were, and continue to be, the most popular of his works. His tendency to Puritanical sentiments, though a Royalist, was probably the cause of his writings being entirely neglected after the Restoration. His epigrammatic productions exhibit the rare union of wit and devotion; but he disobeyed the advice he gave to others:-"Clothe not thy language either with obscurity or affectation."]

I LOVE (and have some cause to love) the earth:

She is my Maker's creature; therefore good:

She is my mother, for she gave me birth;

She is my tender nurse-she gives me food;

But what's a creature, Lord, compared with Thee?

Or what's my mother, or my nurse to me?

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I love the air: her dainty sweets refresh

My drooping soul, and to new sweets invite me;

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Her shrill-mouth'd quire sustain me with their flesh,
And with their polyphonian notes delight me :
But what's the air or all the sweets that she

Can bless my soul withal, compared to Thee?

I love the sea: she is my fellow-creature,

My careful purveyor; she provides me store:

She walls me round; she makes my diet greater;

She wafts my treasure from a foreign shore :

But, Lord of oceans, when compared with Thee,

What is the ocean, or her wealth to me?

To heaven's high city I direct my journey,
Whose spangled suburbs entertain mine eye;
Mine eye, by contemplation's great attorney,
Transcends the crystal pavement of the sky:
But what is heaven, great God, compared to Thee?
Without Thy presence heaven's no heaven to me.

Without Thy presence earth gives no refection ;
Without Thy presence sea affords no treasure ;
Without Thy presence air's a rank infection;
Without Thy presence heaven itself no pleasure :
If not possess'd, if not enjoy'd in Thee,
What's earth, or sea, or air, or heaven to me?

The highest honours that the world can boast,
Are subjects far too low for my desire;
The brightest beams of glory are (at most)
But dying sparkles of Thy living fire:

The loudest flames that earth can kindle, be
But nightly glow-worms, if compared to Thee.

Without Thy presence wealth is bags of cares;
Wisdom but folly; joy disquiet-sadness:
Friendship is treason, and delights are snares;
Pleasures but pain, and mirth but pleasing madness;
Without Thee, Lord, things be not what they be,
Nor have they being, when compared with Thee.

In having all things, and not Thee, what have I?
Not having Thee, what have my labours got?
Let me enjoy but Thee, what further crave I?
And having Thee alone, what have I not?

I wish nor sea nor land; nor would I be
Possess'd of heaven, heaven unpossess'd by Thee.

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