that he was knighted, and employed in several important negotiations for the king's service. When made a prisoner he owed his life to the intercession of Milton, to whom, after the Restoration, he returned a similar service. His principal work, besides his numerous dramas, is Gondibert, which was at least intended for an heroic poem. Davenant died patentee of Duke's theatre,-a grant obtained for loyal services.

ON THE QUEEN VISITING LADY

ANGLESEY.

Fair as unshaded light, or as the day
In its first birth, when all the year was May ;
Sweet as the altar's smoke, or as the new
Unfolded bud, swell’d by the early dew;
Smooth as the face of waters first appear’d,
Ere tides began to strive, or winds were heard ;
Kind as the willing saints, and calmer far
Than in their sleeps forgiven hermits are :
You, that are more than our discreter fear
Dares praise, with such full art, what make you

here? Here, where the Summer is so little seen, That leaves (her cheapest wealth) scarce reach at

green, You come, as if the silver planet were Misled a while from her much-injur'd sphere, And t' ease the travails of her beams to-night, In this small lanthorn would contract her light.

ABRAHAM COWLEY.

BORN 1608—DIED 1667.

This amiable man and distinguished poet was involved in

the troubles of the times of Charles I., and, after the Restoration, lived to experience the ingratitude of princes, and to learn that retirement and leisure are among the best blessings of life. Cowley was a voluminous writer, distinguished for great wit and learning, perverted or misapplied by the false taste of his age. His entire works are now seldom opened save by students of poetry, if there be any such ; but a few of his smaller pieces will ever be admired, and, above them all, THE CHRONICLE, a gay and happy trifle, which defies or disarms criticism.

THE CHRONICLE; A BALLAD.
MARGARITA first possess'd,
If I remember well, my breast,

Margarita, first of all ;
But when a while the wanton maid
With my restless heart had play'd,

Martha took the flying ball.

Martha soon did it resign
To the beauteous Catharine.

Beauteous Catharine gave place
(Though loath and angry she to part
With the possession of my heart)

To Eliza's conquering face.

Eliza till this hour might reign,
Had she not evil counsels ta'en :

Fundamental laws she broke,
And still new favourites she chose,
Till up in arms my passions rose,

And cast away her yoke.

Mary then, and gentle Ann,
Both to reign at once began,

Alternately they sway'd :
And sometimes Mary was the fair,
And sometimes Ann the crown did wear,

And sometimes both I obey'd.

Another Mary then arose,
And did rigorous laws impose ;

A mighty tyrant she !
Long, alas ! should I have been
Under that iron-scepter'd queen,

Had not Rebecca set me free.

When fair Rebecca set me free,
'Twas then a golden time with me ;

But soon those pleasures fled ;
For the gracious princess died
In her youth and beauty's pride,

And Judith reigned in her stead.

One month, three days, and half an hour, Judith held the sovereign power,

Wondrous beautiful her face ; But so weak and small her wit, That she to govern was unfit,

And so Susanna took her place.

But when Isabella came,
Arm'd with a resistless flame,

And th' artillery of her eye ;
Whilst she proudly march'd about
Greater conquests to find out,

She beat out Susan by the bye.

But in her place I then obey'd
Black-ey'd Bess, her viceroy maid,

To whom ensued a vacancy : Thousand worse passions then possess'd The interregnum of my breast;

Bless me from such an anarchy !

Gentle Henrietta then,
And a third Mary next began ;

Then Joan, and Jane, and Andria ;
And then a pretty Thomasine,
And then another Catharine,

And then a long et cætera.

But should I now to you relate
The strength and riches of their state,

The powder, patches, and the pins,
The ribbons, jewels, and the rings,
The lace, the paint, and warlike things,

That make up all their magazines.

If I should tell the politic arts
To take and keep men's hearts ;

The letters, embassies, and spies, The frowns, and smiles, and flatteries, The quarrels, tears, and perjuries,

(Numberless, nameless, mysteries,)

And all the little lime-twigs laid
By Machiavel, the waiting maid,

I more voluminous should grow (Chiefly if I, like them, should tell All change of weather that befel)

Than Holinshed or Stow.

But I will briefer with them be,
Since few of them were long with me :

An higher and a nobler strain
My present emperess does claim,
Eleonora, first o' th' name,

Whom God grant long to reign.

HONOUR.

SHE loves, and she confesses too;
There's then, at last, no more to do :
The happy work's entirely done ;
Enter the town which thou hast won ;
The fruits of conquest now begin ;
lö, triumph; enter in.

What's this, ye gods! what can it be ?
Remains there still an enemy?
Bold Honour stands up in the gate,
And would yet capitulate ;
Have I o'ercome all real foes,
And shall this phantom me oppose ?

Noisy nothing ! stalking shade!
By what witchcraft wert thou made ?