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Or,

There, with her, triumph in your victory,
Such joy alone and sad solemnity,
Becomes this funeral of virginity.

if
you

faint to be so blest: oh hear !
If not to die, dare but to live like her :
Dare to live virgins (ill the honour'd age
Of thrice fifteen calls matrous on the stage,
Whilst not a blemish or least stain is seen
On your wbite robe twixt fifty and fifteen

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 line nor die!

Your glories are eclipsed, and hidden in the grave

Of this indifferency;
And Cælia, you can neither altars bare,

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,
Where now that vestal flame thou dost entomb
As in the inmost cell of all earth's womb;

Sacred Lucasta, like the powerful ray
Of heavenly truth, pass this cimmerian way,
And all the standards of your beams display!

Arise, and climb our whitest highest hill,
These your sad thoughts with joy and wonder fill,
And see seas calm as earth, earth will,

as your

Behold bow lightning like a taper flies
And gilds your chariot, but ashamed dies,
Seeing itself out-gloried by your eyes !

Threatning and boist'rous tempests gently, bow, And to your steps part in soft paths, when now There no where hangs a cloud, but on your brow.

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,
Artillery hath laden every dish with meat,
And drums at every health alarums beat.

All things, Lucasta, but Lucasta call,
Trees borrow tongues, waters in accents fall,
The air doth sing, and fire is musical.

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,

Seel she obeys!-by all obeyed thus,
No storms, heats, colds, or soul's contentious
Nor civil war is found, I mean, to us.

Lovers and angels, though in heaven they show,
And see the woes and discords here below,
What they feel not, must not be said to know.

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
One greater than the rest, that's all those o'er again
And her own self beside ;-a lady whose soft breast
Is with vast honours soul, and virtue's life possess'd :
Fair as original light, first from the chaos shot,
When day in virgin-beams triumph'd, and night was not.
And as that breath infus'd in the new breather good,
When ill unknown was dumb, and bad not understood;
Cheerful as that aspect at this world's finishing
When cherubims clapp'd wings, and th' sons of heav'n

did sing!

Chaste as th' Arabian bird, who all the air denies, And even in flames expires, when with herself she lies. Oh! she is kind as drops of new-fall’n April showers, That on each gentle breast, spring fresh perfuming

flowers; She's constant, gen'rous, fix'd, she's calm, she is the all We can of virtue, honour, faith, or glory call ! And she is, whom I thus transmit to endless fame, Mistress o' the world, and me, and Laura is her name !

[graphic]

SIR CHARLES SÉDLEY,

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 rea tirement, his disposition not being sufficiently in unison with that of the party then in power. .

Upon the restoration of the royal family, he immea diately 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 wbat degree of affinity we know not,

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