Lovely as all excellence,
Modest in her most of mirth;
Likelihood enough to prove
Only worth could kindle love.

Such she is; and if you know
Such a one as I have sung,
Be she brown, or fair, or-so,
That she be but somewhile young ;

Be assur'd 'tis she, or none,
That I love, and love alone.

Thyrsis' Praise of his Mistress.

[From "England's Helicon."]

On a hill that grac'd the plain
Thyrsis sate, a comely swain,
Comelier swain ne'er grac'd a hill;
Whilst his flock, that wander'd nigh,
Cropt the green grass busily,
Thus he tun'd his oaten quill:

"Ver hath made the pleasant field "Many several odours yield,

"Odours aromatical:

"From fair Astra's cherry lip "Sweeter smells for ever skip,

"Leavy groves now mainly ring "With each sweet bird's sonnetting, "Notes that make the echoes long: "But when Astra tunes her voice, "All the mirthful birds rejoice, "And are listening to her song.

"Fairly spreads the damask rose,
"Whose rare mixture doth disclose
"Beauties, pencils cannot feign:

"Yet, if Astra pass the bush,
"Roses have been seen to blush;
"She doth all their beauties stain.

"Fields are blest with flowery wreath, "Air is blest when she doth breathe ; "Birds make happy every grove, "She each bird when she doth sing; "Phœbus heat to earth doth bring,

"She makes marble fall in love.

The Syren's Song.

[In " The Inner Temple Mask.”]

STEER, hither steer your winged pines,
All beaten mariners!

Here lie Love's undiscover'd mines,
A prey to passengers:

Perfumes far sweeter than the best

Which make the Phoenix' urn and nest.
Fear not your ships,

Nor any to oppose you, save our lips;

But come on shore,

Where no joy dies till Love hath gotten more.
For swelling waves, our panting breasts,
Where never storms arise,
Exchange, and be a while our guests;
For stars gaze on our eyes;

The compass Love shall hourly sing,
And, as he goes about the ring,

We will not miss

To tell each point he nameth with a kiss. Then come on shore,

Where no joy dies till Love hath gotten more.

THOMAS FREEMAN,

A Gloucestershire man, entered in 1607, (being about 16 years of age) at Magdalen College, Oxford, where he took the degree of B. A. On quitting the University for the Metropolis, he set up for a poet, and, according to Wood, was shortly after held in esteem by Daniel, Owen, Donne, Shakespeare, Chapman, T. Heywood, and others. In 1614 he produced two books of epigrams, entitled, "Rubbe and a great Cast," and "Runne and a great Cast, the second Bowle," 4to. From this publication Mr Warton has quoted an epigram in praise of Donne, and another on the increasing size of the city of London ; but the following stanzas exhibit a more favourable specimen of the author's poetical talents, and afford a very flattering testimony in honour of Cornwall and its inhabitants. They were selected by the Rev. Mr Brand from a copy of the book in his possession.

Encomion Cornubiæ.

I LOVE thee, Cornwall, and will ever,
And hope to see thee once again!
For why?-thine equal knew I never
For honest minds and active men:

Where true religion better thrives,

And God is worshipp'd with more zeal ;
Where men will sooner spend their lives
To good their king and common-weal.

Where virtue is of most esteem,

And not for fear, but love, embrac'd; Where each man's conscience doth seem To be a law, and bind as fast.

Where none doth more respect his

purse

Than by his credit he doth set; Where words and bonds have equal force, And promise is as good as debt.

Where none enviès another's state,
Where men speak truth without an oath,
And, what is to be wonder'd at,

Where men are rich and honest both.

Where's strict observance of the laws, And, if there chance some little wrong, Good neighbours hear and end the cause, Not trust it to a lawyer's tongue.

Where, as it seems, by both consents The sea and land such plenty brings, That landlords need not rack their rents, And tenants live like petty kings.

Where goodness solely is regarded,
And vice and vicious men abhorr❜d,