SIR EDWARD SHERBURNE.

TO THE ETERNAL WISDOM.

O THOU eternal Mind! whose wisdom sees,
And rules our changes by unchanged decrees;
As with delight on thy grave works we look,
Say, art thou too with our light follies took?
For when thy bounteous hand, in liberal showers
Each way diffused, thy various blessings pours,
We catch at them with strife, as vain to sight
As children, when for nuts they scrambling fight.
This snatching at a sceptre, breaks it; he,
That broken does ere he can grasp it, see;
The poor world seeming like a ball, that lights
Betwixt the hands of powerful opposites :
Which, while they cantonise in their bold pride,
They but an immaterial point divide.

O whilst for wealthy spoils these fight, let me,
Though poor, enjoy a happy peace with thee!

ON THE INNOCENTS SLAIN BY HEROD.

Go, blessed innocents! and freely pour
Your souls forth in a purple shower;
And, for that little earth each shall lay down,
Purchase a heavenly crown.

Nor of original pollution fear

The stains should to your bloods adhere; For yours now shed, ere long shall in a flood Be wash'd of better blood.

EPIGRAM,

ON MARY MAGDALEN WASHING THE FEET OF CHRIST.

THE proud Egyptian queen her Roman guest (To express her love-in height of state and pleasure)

With pearl dissolv'd in gold did feast

Both food and treasure.

And now, dear Lord! thy lover, on the fair
And silver tables of thy feet, behold!
Pearl in her tears, and in her hair
Offers thee gold.

CONSCIENCE.

INTERNAL Cerberus! whose griping fangs,
That gnaw the soul, are the mind's secret pangs;

Thou greedy vulture! that dost gorging tire
On hearts corrupted by impure desire;
Subtle and buzzing hornet! that dost ring
A peal of horror, ere thou giv'st the sting;
The soul's rough file, that smoothness does impart!
The hammer, that does break the stony heart!
The worm that never dies! the “thorn within,"
That pricks and pains! the whip and scourge of

sin!

The voice of God in man! which, without rest,
Dost softly cry within a troubled breast—
"To all temptations is that soul set free,
That makes not to itself a curb of me."

"AND THEY LAID HIM IN A MANGER."

HAPPY crib that wert alone,

To my God-bed, cradle, throne!
Whilst thy glorious vileness I
View with divine fancy's eye,
Sordid filth seems all the cost,
State, and splendour, crowns can boast.
See, heaven's sacred Majesty
Humbled beneath poverty;

He whose hands the heavens display'd,
And the world's foundations laid,
From the world almost exil'd,

Of all ornaments despoil'd!

Perfumes bathe him not new-born;
Persian mantles not adorn;

Nor do the rich roofs look bright
With the jasper's orient light.
Where, O royal Infant, be
The ensigns of thy majesty?

U

Thy Sire's equallizing state,

And thy sceptre that rules fate?
Where's thy angel-guarded throne,
Whence thy laws thou didst make known,
Laws which heaven and earth obey'd ?-
These-oh these—aside he laid;
Would the emblem be of pride,
By humility outvied.

THE FOUNTAIN.

STRANGER, whoe'er thou art, that stoop'st to taste These sweeter streams, let me arrest thy haste; Nor of their fall

The murmurs (though the lyre

Less sweet be) stand to admire:

See from this marble tun

The liquid crystal run,

And mark withal

How fix'd the one abides,

How fast the other glides;

Instructed thus, the difference learn to see "Twixt mortal life and immortality.

ABRAHAM COWLEY.

BORN 1618; DIED 1667.

COWLEY is commonly cited as having carried to their highest point the peculiarities of that class of poets-disciples of the school of Petrarch-who sought to be remarkable rather for refinement than good sense, and made the expression of natural feeling secondary to the sparkling of elaborate wit, and the windings of perplexed ingenuity. His native powers were, notwithstanding, such as to afford his works a fair chance of regaining, from time to time, among the fluctuations of the public taste, a considerable share of their great original popularity. If, as has been asserted, Cowley's genius was " a meteor," it at least shone with an intense light; nor will its reflection wholly pass away from the poetical heavens. He had a vivid imagination, a clear intellect, and a rich command of language. His prose essays are, perhaps, the most valuable of what he gave to the world; and the least esteemed are his dramas. Cowley was distinguished by a love of virtue; and a disposition to those retired and meditative habits which are favourable to piety and the acquisition of truth, appears conspicuous in his writings.