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All the earth, all the air,

Of love and pleasure speaks;

Teach thine arms then to embrace,
And sweet rosy lips to kiss,

And mix our souls in mutual bliss:
Eyes were made for beauty's grace;
Viewing, ruing, love's long pain,
Procured by beauty's rude disdain.

Come away, come, sweet love!
The golden morning wastes,
While the sun from his sphere
His fiery arrows casts,
Making all the shadows fly,
Playing, staying, in the grove,
To entertain the stealth of love;
Thither, sweet love, let us hie,

Flying, dying, in desire,

Wing'd with sweet hopes and heavenly fire.

Come, come, sweet love!

Do not in vain adorn

Beauty's grace, that should rise

Like to the naked morn.

Lilies on the river's side,

And fair Cyprian flow'rs newly blown,
Ask no beauties but their own.

Ornament is nurse of pride—

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JOHN LYLY

Was born in the weald of Kent. Wood places his birth in 1553. Oldys makes it appear probable that he was born much earlier. He studied at both the universities, and for many years attended the court of Elizabeth in expectation of being made master of the revels. In this object he was disappointed, and was obliged, in his old age, to solicit the Queen for some trifling grant to support him ', which it is uncertain whether he ever obtained. Very little indeed is known of him, though Blount, his editor, tells us that "he sate at Apollo's table, and that the god gave him a wreath of his own bays without snatching." Whether Apollo was ever so complaisant or not, it is certain that Lyly's work of "Euphues and his England," preceded by another called "Euphues, the Anatomy of Wit," &c. promoted a fantastic style of false wit, bombastic metaphor, and pedantic allusion, which it was fashionable to speak at court under the name of Euphuism, and which the ladies thought it indispensable to acquire. Lyly,

1 If he was an old man in the reign of Elizabeth, Oldys's conjecture as to the date of his birth seems to be verified, as we scarcely call a man old at fifty.

in his Euphues, probably did not create the new style, but only collected and methodised the floating affectations of phraseology.-Drayton ascribes the overthrow of Euphuism to Sir P. Sydney, who, he says,

did first reduce

Our tongue from Lylie's writing then in use,
Talking of stones, stars, plants, of fishes, flies,
Playing with words and idle similies,
As th' English apes and very zanies be
Of every thing that they do hear and see.

Sydney died in 1584, and Euphues had appeared but four years earlier. We may well suppose Sydney to have been hostile to such absurdity, and his writings probably promoted a better taste; but we hear of Euphuism being in vogue many years after his death; and it seems to have expired, like all other fashions, by growing vulgar. Lyly wrote nine plays, in some of which there is considerable wit and humour, rescued from the jargon of his favourite system.

CUPID AND CAMPASPE.

CUPID and my Campaspe play'd
At cards for kisses: Cupid paid.

He stakes his quiver, bow, and arrows,
His mother's doves and team of sparrows;
Loses them too: then down he throws
The coral of his lip-the rose

Growing on 's cheek, but none knows how,
With these the crystal on his brow,
And then the dimple of his chin;
All these did my Campaspe win:
At last he set her both his eyes;
She won, and Cupid blind did rise;
O Love, hath she done this to me?
What shall, alas! become of thee?

SONG.

FROM ALEXANDER AND CAMPASPE.

WHAT bird so sings, yet so does wail?
O'tis the ravish'd nightingale—
Jug, jug, jug, jug-tereu-she cries,
And still her woes at midnight rise.

Brave prick-song! who is't now we hear?
None but the lark so shrill and clear;
Now at Heaven's gate she claps her wings,
The morn not waking till she sings.

Hark! hark! but what a pretty throat,
Poor Robin red-breast tunes his throat;

Hark! how the jolly cuckoos sing
Cuckoo-to welcome in the spring.

FROM MOTHER BOMBIE.

O CUPID, monarch over kings,
Wherefore hast thou feet and wings?
Is it to shew how swift thou art,
When thou wound'st a tender heart?
Thy wings being clipt and feet held still,
Thy bow so many could not kill.

It is all one in Venus wanton school,

Who highest sits, the wise man or the fool-
Fools in Love's college

Have far more knowledge,

To read a woman over,

Than a neat-prating lover;

Nay, 'tis confest

That fools please women best.

ALEXANDER HUME

WAS the second son of Patrick, fifth Baron of Polwarth, from whom the family of Marchmont are de scended. He was born probably about the middle, and died about the end, of the sixteenth century. During four years of the earlier part of his life, he

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