There, with her, triumph in your victory, Or, if you faint to be so blest: oh hear! A LA BOURBON. Donnez moi plus de pitie ou plus de cruaulte car sam ci je ne puis pas vivre, ni mourir. Divine destroyer, pity me no more, Or else more pity me! Give me more love, ah, quickly give me more Or else more cruelty! For left thus as I am, My heart is ice and flame; And languishing thus I Can neither live nor die! Your glories are eclipsed, and hidden in the grave Of this indifferency; And Cælia, you can neither altars have, Nor I a deity :— They are aspects divine That still or smile, or shine, Or like the offended sky Frown death immediately! ODE. Calling Lucasta from her retirement. From the dire monument of thy black room, Sacred Lucasta, like the powerful ray Arise, and climb our whitest highest hill, These your sad thoughts with joy and wonder fill, And see seas calm as earth, earth as your will. Behold how lightning like a taper flies Threat'ning and boist'rous tempests gently bow, No show'rs but 'twixt your lids, nor gelid snow, But what your whiter chaster breast doth owe, Whilst winds in chains colder your sorrow's blow. Shrill trumpets now do only sound to eat, All things, Lucasta, but Lucasta call, Awake from the dead vault in which you dwell, All's loyal here, except your thoughts rebel, Which so let loose, often their general quell. See! she obeys!—by all obeyed thus, Lovers and angels, though in heaven they show, To comprehend this little Ode justly, the unhappy state of the country when it was written, must be borne in mind ;-the theatre of civil war and overrun by contending armies, and armed parties, who were frequently influenced by the desire of pillage and spoil, to attack private houses, and distress the helpless inhabitants.No caution was a complete security, and no retreat, however obscure and remote, a protection from insult and outrage. Female Glory. 'Mongst the world's wonders, there doth yet remain Chaste as th' Arabian bird, who all the air denies, She's constant, gen'rous, fix'd, she's calm, she is the all me, SIR CHARLES SEDLEY. BORN 1639.-Died 1701. "As he lived in the most glorious reign of wit and mirth, so he was one of the glories of it. He was a man of the first class of wit and gallantry; his friendship was courted by every body, and nobody went out of his company but was pleased and improved. Time added but very little to nature; he was every thing that an English gentleman should be." (W. Ayloffe.*) Sir Charles Sedley was the son of Sir John Sedley Baronet, of Aylesford in Kent,-grandson of Sir William Sedley, founder of the lecture on natural philosophy that bears his name, at the university of Oxford, and his mother was the daughter of Sir Henry Saville, the learned Provost of Eton.-Sir Charles Sedley received a learned education, and was a gentleman commoner of Wadham College, Oxford, but left the University without a degree. During the usurpation of Cromwell he lived in retirement, his disposition not being sufficiently in unison with that of the party then in power. Upon the restoration of the royal family, he immediately attached himself to the dissolute court of Charles *Captain W. Ayloffe was the first editor of Sir Charles Sedley's works, and from the preface to his edition the passage inserted above is taken. He calls himself a relation, but in what degree of affinity we know not. |