He is the first of our authors to evince decided powers of epigrammatic expression, and to diversify the heroic couplet by the introduction of the triplet. It is much to be regretted that Hall's most vigorous and most successful writing is of such a character as makes it impossible to be presented to general readers in our day. The conclusion of the first satire of the fourth book, and of the fourth satire of the same book, are passages in question. In consulting the interests of propriety we are, we must add, not consulting the interests of Hall's fame as a satirist, though the shade of a Father of the Church will we trust forgive the injury.

Besides these Satires he was the author of a few miscellaneous poems, chiefly of a religious and elegiac character, but they are not of much value.

J. CHURTON COLLINS.

THE GOLDEN AGE.

[From Book iii. Satire 1.]

Time was, and that was termed the time of gold,
When world and time were young that now are old
(When quiet Saturn swayed the mace of lead,
And pride was yet unborn, and yet unbred).
Time was, that whiles the autumn fall did last,
Our hungry sires gap'd for the falling mast
Of the Dodonian oaks.

Could no unhusked acorn leave the tree

But there was challenge made whose it might be.
And if some nice and licorous appetite
Desir'd more dainty dish of rare delight,
They scal'd the stored crab with clasped knee
Till they had sated their delicious eye:
Or search'd the hopeful thicks of hedgy rows
For briery berries, or haws, or sourer sloes.
Or when they meant to fare the fin'st of all,
They lick'd oak-leaves bespread with honey-fall.
As for the thrice three-angled beech-nut shell,
Or chestnut's armed husk and hid kernell,
No squire durst touch, the law would not afford.
Kept for the court, and for the king's own board,
Their royal plate was clay, or wood, or stone:
The vulgar, save his hand, else he had none.
Their only cellar was the neighbour brook:
None did for better care, for better look;
Was then no plaining of the brewer's scape,
Nor greedy vintner mix'd the strained grape.
The king's pavilion was the grassy green
Under safe shelter of the shady treen.
Under each bank men laid their limbs along,
Not wishing any ease, not fearing wrong,
Clad with their own as they were made of old,
Not feeling shame nor feeling any cold.

HOLLOW HOSPITALITY.

[From Book iii. Sat. 3.]

The courteous citizen bade me to his feast
With hollow words, and overly1 request:
'Come, will ye dine with me this holiday?'
I yielded, though he hop'd I would say nay:
For I had maiden'd it, as many use;
Loath for to grant, but loather to refuse.
'Alack, sir, I were loath-another day,-

I should but trouble you;—pardon me, if you may.'
No pardon should I need; for, to depart
He gives me leave, and thanks too, in his heart.
Two words for money, Darbyshirian wise:
(That's one too many) is a naughty guise.
Who looks for double biddings to a feast,
May dine at home for an importune guest.
I went, then saw, and found the great expense;
The face and fashions of our citizens.

Oh, Cleopatrical! what wanteth there

For curious cost, and wondrous choice of cheer?
Beef, that erst Hercules held for finest fare;

Pork, for the fat Boeotian, or the hare
For Martial; fish for the Venetian;
Goose-liver for the licorous Roman;

Th' Athenian's goat; quail, Iolaus' cheer;
The hen for Esculape, and the Parthian deer ;
Grapes for Arcesilas 2, figs for Pluto's mouth,

And chestnuts fair for Amarillis' tooth.

Hadst thou such cheer? wert thou ever there before?
Never, I thought so: nor come there no more.
Come there no more; for so meant all that cost:
Never hence take me for thy second host.
For whom he means to make an often guest,

One dish shall serve; and welcome make the rest.

Plutarch, Moralia 668 a, calls Arcesilaus piλóßorpus.

А Сохсомв.

[From Book iii. Sat. 5.]

Late travelling along in London way
Me met, as seen by his disguised array,
A lusty courtier, whose curled head
With abron' locks was fairly furnished.
I him saluted in our lavish wise;

He answers my untimely courtesies :
His bonnet vailed, ere ever he could think
The unruly wind blows off his periwinke.
He lights and runs and quickly hath him sped
To overtake his overrunning head.

The sportful wind, to mock the headless man,
Tosses apace his pitched Rogerian 2:

And straight it to a deeper ditch hath blown ;
There must my yonker fetch his waxen crown.
I looked and laughed, whiles in his raging mind
He cursed all courtesy and unruly wind.

I looked and laughed, and much I marvelled
To see so large a causeway on his head,

And me bethought, that when it first begon

'Twas some shrewd autumn that so bared the bone.

Is 't not sweet pride, when men their crowns must shade
With that which jerks the hams of every jade,

Or floor-strewed locks from off the Barber's shears?
But waxen crowns well 'gree with borrowed hairs.

A DESERTED MANSION.

[From Book v. Sat. 2.]

Beat the broad gates, a goodly hollow sound With double echoes doth again rebound; But not a dog doth bark to welcome thee, Nor churlish porter canst thou chafing see; All dumb and silent, like the dead of night, Or dwelling of some sleepy Sybarite. The marble pavement hid with desert weed, With houseleek, thistle, dock, and hemlock seed: 1 Auburn.

2 A nickname for a false scalp.

But if thou chance cast up thy wondering eyes,
Thou shalt discern upon the frontispiece
ΟΥΔΕΙΣ ΕΙΣΙΤΩ' graven up on high,

A fragment of old Plato's poesy:

The meaning is, 'Sir Fool, ye may be gone,
Go back by leave, for way here lieth none.'
Look to the towered chimneys, which should be
The windpipes of good hospitality,

Through which it breatheth to the open air,
Betokening life, and liberal welfare;

Lo there the unthankful swallow takes her rest,
And fills the tunnel with her circled nest;
Nor half that smoke from all his chimneys goes
Which one tobacco pipe drives through his nose.
So rawbone hunger scorns the mudded walls,
And 'gins to revel it in lordly halls.

ADVICE TO MARRY BETIMES.

[From Book iv. Sat. 4.]

Wars, God forfend! nay God defend from war;
Soon are sons spent, that not soon reared are.
Gallio may pull me roses ere they fall,
Or in his net entrap the tennis ball,
Or tend his spar-hawk mantling in her mew,
Or yelping beagles' busy heels pursue,
Or watch a sinking cork upon the shore,
Or halter finches through a privy door,
Or list he spend the time in sportful game,
In daily courting of his lovely dame,
Hang on her lips, melt in her wanton eye,
Dance in her hand, joy in her jollity:
Here's little peril, and much lesser pain,

So timely Hymen do the rest restrain.

Hie wanton Gallio and wed betime,

Why should'st thou lose the pleasures of thy prime? Seest thou the rose leaves fall ungathered?

Then hie thee, wanton Gallio, to wed.

1Let no man enter.'