SONNETS.

WHEN I do count the clock, that tells the time,
And see the brave day sunk in hideous night;
When I behold the violet past prime,

And sable curls all silver'd o'er with white;
When lofty trees I see barren of leaves,
Which erst from heat did canopy the herd;
And summer's green all girded up in sheaves,
Borne on the bier, with white and bristly beard;
Then, of thy beauty do I question make,
That thou among the wastes of time must go ;
Since sweets and beauties do themselves forsake,
And die as fast as they see others grow;

And nothing'gainst Time's scythe can make defence,
Save breed, to brave him when he takes thee hence.

WHEN, in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes,
I all alone beweep my outcast-state;

And trouble deaf Heaven with my bootless cries;
And look upon myself, and curse my fate;
Wishing me like to one more rich in hope,
Featur'd like him, like him with friends possest;
Desiring this man's art, and that man's scope,
With what I most enjoy contented least!
Yet in these thoughts, myself almost despising,
Haply I think on thee; and then my state,
Like to the lark at break of day arising,
From sullen earth to sing at heaven's gate:

For thy sweet love, remember'd, such wealth brings,
That then I scorn to change my state with kings!

SONNETS.

LET me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments; love is not love,
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove.
O, no! it is an ever-fixéd mark,

That looks on tempests, and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wandering bark,

Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken,
Love's not time's fool; though rosy lips, and cheeks
Within his bending sickle's compass come :
Love alters not, with his brief hours and weeks,

But bears it out even to the edge of doom.

If this be error, and upon me proved,

I never writ, nor no man ever loved.

Is it thy will, thy image should keep open
My heavy eye-lids through the weary night?
Dost thou desire my slumbers should be broken,
While shadows, like to thee, do mock my sight?
Is it thy spirit that thou send'st from thee,
So far from home, into my deeds to pry;
To find out shames, and idle hours in me,
The scope and tenour of thy jealousy?
O, no! thy love, though much, is not so great!
It is my love, that keeps mine eyes awake;
Mine own true love, that doth my rest defeat,
To play the watchman ever for thy sake:

For thee watch I, whilst thou dost wake elsewhere;
From me far off, with others all too near.

SONNETS.

THEN hate me, when thou wilt, if ever, now;
Now, while the world is bent my deeds to cross;
Join with the spite of fortune, make me bow,
And do not drop in for an after-loss :

Ah! do not, when my heart hath 'scap'd this sorrow,
Come in the rereward of a conquer'd foe!
Give not a windy night a rainy morrow,
To linger out a purpos'd overthrow.

If thou wilt leave me, do not leave me last,
When other petty griefs have done their spite;
But in the onset come, so shall I taste

At first the very worst of fortune's might:

And other strains of woe, which now seem woe,
Compar'd with loss of thee, will not seem so.

ALAS! 'tis true I have gone here and there,
And made myself a motley to thy view;

Gor'd mine own thoughts, sold cheap what is most dear,
Made old offences of affections new:

Most true it is, that I have look'd on truth
Askance and strangely; but, by all above,
These blenches gave my heart another youth,
And worse essays prov'd thee my best of love!
Now all is done, save what shall have no end,
Mine appetite I never more will grind
On newer proof, to try an older friend;
A god in love, to whom I am confin'd.

Then give me welcome, next my heaven the best,
Even to thy pure, and most, most loving breast!

WILLIAM DRUMMOND.

1612.

William Drummond, the first Scottish poet who wrote with purity and elegance in English, was born at Hawthornden, in Mid Lothian, his patrimonial seat, December 13, 1585. Sedulously improving the advantages of a liberal education, acquired in Edinburgh, he afterwards repaired to France, where he studied the civil law at Bourges. Devoted, however, to the pleasures of seclusion, he wholly declined the contest of men; and retired, early in life, to Hawthornden. It was thus, that amidst the serenity of nature, ever promotive of the tenderer passions, he became enamoured of the LESBIA whose charms were never obliterated from his heart. This lady was the daughter of a Mr. Cunningham, of Barnes. According to the information respecting her to be gleaned from the praises of her lover, she was not only royally descended, but, with the most animating personal attractions, possessed a highly intelligent mind, a voice of melody, and was constitutionally cheerful. His addresses, fervently offered, being at last accepted, the day was appointed for the celebration of their nuptials; when the expected bride was suddenly seized with a fever, which in a short time terminated her life, in the bloom and " April of her Years!" This shock, that must have seriously affected even an ordinary mind, Drummond never properly recovered. Indeed, he did not at first attempt to escape from scenes which, continually reminding him of his past delights, appeared only to confirm his sorrows. The fields, over which they had strayed; the river, to whose murmurs they had listened; the blooms, they had reciprocally admired; the trees, under which they had been seated; these, for a long time, were the objects of his invariable contemplation, and the sources of his deepest gratification. There is in real grief a solemnity congenial only with solitude; a stillness, which the bustle of

mankind would irritate, instead of diverting. From ourselves must be derived the consolation that no sympathy can otherwise impart. It is not till the softness of melancholy has succeeded to the bitterness of anguish, that we are qualified to mingle in the cares and pursuits of others.

Roused, however, from this pensive inactivity, Drummond made the tour of the continent, residing alternately at Rome and Paris; whence, after an absence of nearly eight years, he returned home: and, in 1630, united himself to Elizabeth Logan, grand daughter of Sir Robert Logan, of Restalrig, whom he married chiefly on account of her personal resemblance to LESBIA! Steadily attached to the royal cause, the subversion of the monarchy, which soon after took place, and which he had frequently foreboded, is believed to have contributed in hastening his death. This event happened December 4, 1649, in the 64th year of his age. He had several children, of whom one was knighted by Charles II. His remains were deposited under his own aisle, in the church of Lasswader.

Drummond has with justice been entitled the Scotch Petrarch. While, however, he resembles his Italian predecessor in the mournful catastrophe of his passion, and the polished elegance of his diction, he excels him in that affecting simplicity which constitutes the highest charm of amatory compositions.