'Mongst well-tun'd leaves with gentle murmuring;- SONG. At the foot of a mountain white Clad all in snow, That doth melt with the sun-beams bright, Celio as in a dream, Beholdeth how the stream, Drives to and fro. Little pebbles, white, red, and blue, Then doth he see, And presented are to his view, Lift Sands like Arabian gold, Near which he may behold Apollo's tree. Instead of fishes, Naiades In christal veils, up their heads from those fresh seas, With different garlands crown'd; Young Hyacinthus groweth near; Adonis too; Acanthus the boy doth appear; In a flower of his name, That scorned to woo. The Thracian minstrel riseth then, His harp he brings, That attracts birds, beasts, fishes, men : With the sweet sound he cheers, And thus he sings— Fenissa the fair is come, With little foot of snow, She trips it to and fro, Come then, Fenissa, fair Fenissa come, Come to the shade, By cool leaves made. Sing Celio; valley, make Fenissa room, And let echo ring, She's the valley's spring! Fenissa come! SONNET Introductory to a fresh discourse. As a poor bark distrest by waves and wind, So an unheedy vessel do I live, Restless, near shipwreck, since I ne'er was well, "Till I afresh had launched into the main, Where, whatsoe'er resistance my bark give, From the white froth I mount, then fall again; Then rise, then tumble down as low as hell. SONNET. A Serenade. The sun is set, gone down to the cool shade ;- For ever; if it chance that she do sleep, May Morpheus wake her with a dream from hell, Tell her of her disdain, my jealousy; That though I present am, I, absent weep! ELEGY On a Lady killed by a fall in attempting to elope with her Lover. Pure spirit! that leav'st thy body to our moan, Look, if the soul can downward look, and see Base worms on sixteen years sweet flesh should feed. While time bears date free from oblivion's doom! draws near, That when the world's last passenger In uncorrupted letters may appear: Here Lisis lies, that leapt from vital breath, SONG. When thou in native thoughts didst imitate And constant wert, I still did consecrate To thy true faith, firm love: That rural bird doth never range, Fixt to her mate, affects no change. And first affection less dost equalise, Why do I longer strive? For love that doth excuses frame, Fither is none, or not the same. SIR THOMAS HAWKINS. BORN ABOUT 1590.-DIED 1640. Romanas tenuit Romanus Horatius aures, (CHAPPERLINUS.) Whilst to thy tune the Lyric poet sings, (G. FORTESCUE.) "Sir Thomas Hawkins, knight," says the Oxford historian, 66 was an ingenious man; as excellent in the faculty of music* as in poetry." For an account of the ancient and respectable family of which he was a distinguished ornament, and their pleasantly situated mansion * Of his skill in music, some notice is taken in the annexed motto, from a copy of verses prefixed to his Horace. In another friendly specimen of the same kind, signed Hugh Holland, bis musical talents are also noticed : I knew before thy dainty touch Upon the lordly viol: But of thy lyre who knew so much |