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The last contains, besides, a paraphrase on Solomon's

Song, first published at Oxford in 1641, 4to. For further particulars the reader may consult Langbaine's

and Cibber's (Shiell's] Lives of the Poets. The two last of the following specimens, besides the harmony

of their numbers, have the additional recommendation of exhibiting the order of their Author's publications, and the course of his travels,

PSALM CXLVIII.

You who dwell above the skies,
Free from human miseries ;
You whom highest heaven embowers,
Praise the Lord with all your powers !
Angels, your clear voices raise !
Him you-heavenly armies praise !
Sun, and moon with borrow'd lights
All you sparkling eyes of night,
Waters hanging in the air,
Heaven of heavens, his praise declare I
His deserved praise record,
His, who made you by his word
Made you evermore to last,
Set you bounds not to be past.
Let the earth his praise resound;
Monstrous, whales, and seas profound,

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Vapours, lightning, hail, and snow,
Storms, which, when he bids them, blow!
Flowery hills, and mountains high,
Cedars, neighbours to the sky,
Trees, that fruit in season yield,
All the cattle of the field,
Savage beasts, all creeping things,
All that cut the air with wings !
You who awful sceptres sway,
You, inured to obey,
Princes, judges of the earth,
All, of high and humble birth!
Youths, and virgins, flourishing
In the beauty of your spring ;
You who bow with age’s weight,
You who were but born of late ;
Praise his name with one consent:
O how great! how excellent !

* * * * *

Urania to the Queen.

(Prefixed to his “ Translation of Ovid's Metamorphoses."']

The muses by your favour blest,
Fair queen, invite you to their feast.

The Graces will rejoice and sue,
Since so excell'd, to wait on you.
Ambrosia taste, which frees from death,
And nectar, fragrant as your breath,
By Hebe filld, who states the prime
Of youth, and brails the wings of Time.
Here in Adonis' gardens grow
What neither age or winter know.
The boy with whom Love seem'd to die
Bleeds in this pale anemony.
Self-lov'd Narcissus in the mirror
Of your fair eyes now sees his error,
And from the flattering fountain turns ;
The hyacinth no longer mourns.
This Heliotrope, which did pursue
Th’adored sun, converts to you.
* * * * * *
Chaste Daphne bends her virgin-boughs,
And twines t embrace your sacred brows.
Their tops the Paphian myrtles move,
Saluting you their queen of love.
Myrrha, who weeps for her offence,
Presents her tears.her frankincense
Leucothoe ; th' Heliades :
Their amber ;-yet you need not these.
* * * * * *
These azure-plumed Halcyones,
Whose birth controls the raging seas,

To your sweet union yield the praise Of nuptial loves, of peaceful days. Nymph, take this quiver an i tiis bow Diana such, in shape and show; When with her star-like train she crowns Eurotas' banks, or Cynthus' downs. There chace the Calydonian boar ; Here see Actæon fly before His eager hounds; wild herds will stand At gaze, nor fear so fair a hand. There be, who our delights despise As shadows, and vain fantasies. Those sons of earth, enthrall’d to sense, Condemn what is our excellence. The air, immortal souls, the skies, The angels in their hierarchies, Unseen, to all things seen dispense Breath, life, protection, influence. Our high conceptions crave a mind From earth and ignorance refin'd; Crown Virtue ; Fortune's pride control; Raise objects equal to the soul; At will create ; eternity Bestow on mortals born to die. Yet we, who life to others give, Fair Queen, would by your favour live!

Dedication of his Paraphrase" to King Charles I. The Muse who from your influence took her birth, First wander'd through the many-peopled earth; " Next sung the change of things : disclos'd th’un:

known, Then to a nobler shape transform’d her own; Fetch'd from Engaddi spice, from Jewry balm, . And bound her brows with Idumaan palm ; Now, old, hath her last voyage made, and brought To royal harbour this her sacred fraught : Who to her king bequeathes the wealth of kings; And dying, her own epicedium sings.

Extract from an Address Deo Opt. Max.” at the

· end of the same volume. .
Oh! who hath tasted of thy clemency
In greater measure, or more oft than I?
My grateful verse thy goodness shall displa y.
O thou who went'st along in all my way
To where the Morning with perfumed wings
From the high mountains of Panchæa springs;
To that new-found-out world, where sober Night
Takes from th’ Antipodes her silent flight ;
To those dark seas, where horrid winter reigns,
And binds the stubborn floods in icy chains;

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