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I guiltless past, no hel;less man oppressing :

And coming now to thee. lift to the skies Unbribed hands, cleansid heart, and never tainted eyes !" .. . . ..

.. . . !

“My dearest Betty, my more loved heart, I I leave thee now-with thee all earthly joying; };s:

Heaven knows with thee alone I :adly part, All other earthly'sweets have had their cloying: : ....

Yet never full of thy sweet love's enjoying : :1;

Thy constant loves, next heav'n, I did refer them, Had not much grace prevail’d, 'fore heav'n I should

prefer them.

~ I leave them now the trumpet calls away; In vain thine eyes beg for some time's reprieving; a

Yet in my children here immortal stay;
In one I die, in many ones am living:
In them and for them stay thy too much grieving:

Look but on them, in them thou still wilt see?
Marry'd with thee again, thy twice-two Antony.

“ And when with little hands they stroke thy face, As in thy lap they sit, all careless, playing,

And stammering ask a kiss, give them a brace; The last from me; and then a little staying, "; : .

And in their face some part of me surveying,

In them give me a third, and with a tear,... Shew thy dear love to him, who lor'd thee ever dear.

“ And now our falling house leans all on thee; This little nation to thy care commend them : -

In thee it lies that hence they want not me; ;)

Themselves yet cannot, thou the more defend them; And when green age permits, to goodness bend

them ; A mother were you once, now both you are : Then with this double style double your

love and care. 6. Turn their unwary steps into the ways What first the vessel drinks it long retaineth ;

No bars will hold when they have used to stray : And when for me one asks, and weeping plaineth,

Point thou to heaven, and say he there remaineth,

And if they live in grace, grow, and persever, There shall they live with me-else shall they see me

never !

My God! oh, in thy fear here let them live! Thy wards they are, take them to thy protection :

Thou gav'st them first, now back to thee I give; Direct them thou, and help her weak direction;

That re-united by thy strong election

Thou now in ihem, they then may live in thee; And doing here thy will, may there tby glory see."

After this, we must the more regret that we know no particulars of the private life and domestic history of this interesting poet: the following short Piece is the only one in which he at all alludes to his own "heart's : choice." With this, together with part of an epistle to his brother on his choice of a sacred subject, and extracts from two or three addresses to different friends, (among which we learn the name of his “

Thomalin”) expressive of his love of home and the country, and his attachment to his native Kent, we must close our selections from Dr. Anderson's edition--which, as observed before, however incomplete, and containing many errors, is yet valuable as the only Collection, and

from which we could occupy many more pages with choice passages whose rarity would be their least recommendation-but our limits forbid.

Το my only chosen Valentine and Wife.

5 Maystress Elizabeth Vincent
Is my breast's chaste Valentine


Think not, fair love, that chance niy hand directed
To make

choice my

chance; blind chance and hands Could never see what most


mind affected ; But heav'n, that ever with chaste true love stands, Lent eyes to see what most my heart respected : Then do not thou resist what heav'n commands;

But yield thee his who ever must be thine :

My heart thy altar is, my breast thy shrine; Thy name for ever is, “My breast's chaste Valentine.'

Upon my Brother, G. F. his Book, entitled Christ's

Victory, &c."

Fond lads that spend so fast your posting time
To chaunt light lays, or frame some wanton rhyme;

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But thou, most near, most dear, in this of thine

Hast proved the Muses not to Venus bound; Such as thy matter, such thy Muse, divine:

Or thou such grace with Mercy's self hast found, That she herself deigns in thy leaves to shine; Or stol'n from heav'n, thou brought'st this verse to

ground, Which frights the numbed soul with fearful thunder, And soon with honey'd dews thaws it ’twixt joy and


Then do not thou malicious tongues esteem;

The glass, through which an envious eye doth gaze, , Can eas’ly make a mole-hill mountain seem;

His praise dispraises; his dispraises praise; Enough, if best men best thy labours deem,

And to the highest pitch thy merit raise : While all the Muses to thy song decree Victorious triumph,—triumphant Victory.

To Mr. Io. Tomkins.

Thomalin, my lief, thy music strains to hear,

More rapts my soul than when the swelling winds On craggy rocks their whistling voices tear;

Or when the sea, if stopt his course he finds, With broken murmurs thinks weak shores to fear,

Scorning such sandy cords' bis proud head binds : More than where rivers in the summer's

ray, Through covert glades cutting their shady way, Run tumbling down the lawns, and with the pebbles


Thy strains to hear, old Chamus from his cell

Comes guarded with an hundred nymphs around: An hundred nymphs, that in bis rivers dwell,

About him flock, with water-lillies crown'd: For thee the Muses leave their silver well,

And marvel where thou all their art hast found : There sitting they admire thy dainty strains, And while thy sadder accent sweetly plains, Feel thousand sug'red joys creep in their melting veins.

How oft have I, the Muses' bower frequenting,

Miss'd them at home, and found them all with thee!

Whether thou sing'st sad Eupatha's lamenting,

Or tunest notes to sacred harmony," The ravish'd soul with such sweet notes consenting,

Scorning the earth, in heav'nly extasy Transcends the stars, and with the angel's train Those courts surveys; and now come back again, Finds yet another heaven in thy delightful strain.

Ah! couldst thou here thy humble mind content,

Lowly with me to live in country cell,
And learn suspect the court's proud blandishment;

Here might we safe, here might we sweetly dwell. Live Pallas in her tow'rs and marble tent!

But, ah! the country bow'rs please me as well : There with my Thomalin I safe would sing, And frame sweet ditties to thy sweeter string; There would we laugh at spite, and fortune's thundering

No flattery, hate, or envy lodgeth there;

There no suspicion wall’d in proved steel, Yet fearful of the arms herself doth wear :

Pride is not there; no tyrant there we feel; No clam'rous law shall deaf thy music's ear;

There know no change, nor wanton fortune's wheel: Thousand fresh sports grow in those dainty places; Light fawns and nymphs dance in the woody spaces, And little Love himself plays with the naked Graces. But, seeing Pate my happy wish refuses,

Let me alone enjoy my low estate.
Of all the gifts that fair Parnassus uses,

Only scorn'd poverty and fortune's hate
Common I find to me, and to the Muses ;

But, with the muses, welcome poorest fate,

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