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Therefore, madam, wear no cloud,
For, in sooth, I much do doubt
And your clothes that set you out.
Yet though truth has this confessid,
When I next begin to court,
Bedlam ! this is pretty sport.
BORN 1605-DIED 1687.
The statue of this elegant rhymist seems to be gradually
mouldering away in that niche in the Temple of Fame which it long occupied,
-not from any sudden accident, but by the mere effects of time on its brittle and worthless, though finely-wrought materials. The works of Waller are, however, still embodied in the voluminous editions of the poets; and Johnson, who has passed over Chaucer, Spenser, Surrey, Hall, Sydney, and Shak. speare, has written his life. Waller was by birth a gentleman. He went into parliament very young, wrote many verses celebrating the beauty, or deprecating the severity, of “the adorable Sacharissa," vulgarly the Lady Dorothea Sydney, and at twenty-three married a rich city heiress, whom he soon buried. " The adorable Sacharissa” married the Earl of Sunderland, and Waller, the widower, celebrated Amonet, otherwise Lady Sophia Murray; but, as he sings, “ catched at love, and filled his arms with bays." He then married a lady named Bresse, by whom he had a very large family. If not the greatest among the poets, Waller was one of the most prudent of the fraternity. In the beginning of the civil wars he was a royalist, but afterwards composed a poetical panegyric on Cromwell, and was recalled from exile. At the Restoration he became a favourite with Charles II., maintained his favour with James II., and, it is said, counselled his heir to join the Prince of Orange at the Revolution. " With all this thrift he throve not." He lost the esteem of good men of all parties; his fortune diminished; he now saw life in a light in which till then it had never presented itself; he began to write sacred poetry, and to think earnestly of death.
ANGER, in hasty words or blows,
Affect the haughty and the proud,
Unwisely we the wiser East
All this with indignation spoke,
So the tall stag, upon the brink
Surveying there his armed head,
ON A GIRDLE.
THAT which her slender waist confin'd
It was my heaven's extremest sphere,
A narrow compass ! and yet there
Go, lovely rose !
That now she knows,
When I resemble her to thee,
Tell her that's young,
That, hadst thou sprung
Small is the worth
Bid her come forth,
Then die, that she
May read in thee;
BORN 1605—Died 1668.
There is an absurd tradition, that Sir William Davenant
was the son of Shakspeare. He was in reality the son of a vintner of Oxford. Davenant wrote some rather successful plays ; and afterwards composed masques for the court. He became manager, or, as it was then called, governor of the Drury-lane company of actors. In the civil wars he behaved with so much spirit and capacity