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The sweetnes, mercy, majesty,
And glories of my King.

When I shall voyce aloud, how good
He is, how great should be,
Inlarged winds, that curle the flood,

Know no such liberty.

IV.

Stone walls doe not a prison make,
Nor iron bars a cage;
Mindes innocent and quiet take
That for an hermitage;
If I have freedome in my love,
And in my soule am free,
Angels alone that sore above
Enjoy such liberty.

[graphic]

SONNET.

TO GENERALL GORING,1 AFTER THE PACIFICATION

AT BERWICKE.

A LA CHABOT.2

OW the

I.

peace is made at the foes rate,3

Whilst men of armes to kettles their old helmes translate,

And drinke in caskes of honourable plate.

1 Particulars of this celebrated man, afterward created Earl of Norwich, may be found in Eachard's History, Rushworth's Collections, Whitelocke's Memoirs, Collins' Peerage by Brydges, Pepys' Diary (i. 150, ed. 1858), and Peck's Desiderata Curiosa, (ed. 1779, ii. 479). Whitelocke speaks very highly of his military character. In a poem called The Gallants of the Times, printed in "Wit Restored," 1658, there is the following passage:

"A great burgandine for Will Murray's sake

George Symonds, he vows the first course to take:
When Stradling a Græcian dog let fly,

Who took the bear by the nose immediately;

To see them so forward Hugh Pollard did smile,
Who had an old curr of Canary oyl,

And held up his head that George Goring might see,

Who then cryed aloud, To mee, boys, to mee!"

See, also, The Answer :

66

George, Generall of Guenefrieds,

He is a joviall lad,

Though his heart and fortunes disagree

Oft times to make him sad."

Consult Davenant's Works, 1673, p. 247, and Fragmenta Au

In ev'ry hand [let] a cup be found,

That from all hearts a health may sound
To Goring! to Goring! see 't goe round.

II.

He whose glories shine so brave and high, That captive they in triumph leade each eare and eye, Claiming uncombated the victorie,

And from the earth to heav'n rebound,

Fixt there eternall as this round:

To Goring! to Goring! see him crown'd.

III.

To his lovely bride, in love with scars,

Whose eyes wound deepe in peace, as doth his sword

in wars;

They shortly must depose the Queen of Stars:

Her cheekes the morning blushes give,
And the benighted world repreeve;

To Lettice! to Lettice! let her live.

lica, 1662, pp. 47, 54. Lord Goring died Jan. 6, 1663 (Smyth's Obituary, p. 57; Camden Soc.).

2 A la Chabot was a French dance tune, christened after the admiral of that name, in the same manner as a la Bourbon, mentioned elsewhere in LUCASTA, derived its title from another celebrated person. Those who have any acquaintance with the history of early English music need not to be informed that it was formerly the practice of our own composers to seek the patronage of the gentlemen and ladies about the Court for their works, and to identify their names with them. Thus we have My Lady Carey's Dumpe," &c. &c.

66

3 Expense.

IV.

Give me scorching heat, thy heat, dry Sun, That to this payre I may drinke off an ocean: Yet leave my grateful thirst unquensht, undone; Or a full bowle of heav'nly wine,

In which dissolved stars should shine,

To the couple! to the couple! th' are divine.

SIR THOMAS WORTLEY'S SONNET

ANSWERED.

[THE SONNET.

I.

O more

Thou little winged archer, now no more
As heretofore,

Thou maist pretend within my breast to bide,
No more,

Since cruell Death of dearest Lyndamore

Hath me depriv'd,

I bid adieu to love, and all the world beside.

II.

Go, go;

Lay by thy quiver and unbend thy bow

Poore sillie foe,

Thou spend'st thy shafts but at my breast in vain,

Since Death

My heart hath with a fatall icie deart
Already slain,

Thou canst not ever hope to warme her wound,
Or wound it o're againe.]

THE ANSWER.

I.

GAINE,

Thou witty cruell wanton, now againe,

Through ev'ry veine,

Hurle all your lightning, and strike ev'ry

dart,

Againe,

Before I feele this pleasing, pleasing paine.

I have no heart,

Nor can I live but sweetly murder'd with

So deare, so deare a smart.

II.

Then flye,

And kindle all your torches at her eye,

To make me dye

Her martyr, and put on my roabe of flame:

So I,

Advanced on my blazing wings on high,

In death became

Inthroan'd a starre, and ornament unto

Her glorious, glorious name.

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