SAMUEL SHEPPARD. (?) (Fl. 1650.) EPITHALAMIUM. From The Loves of Amandus and Sophronia, 1650. EAVENLY fair Urania's son, HE Thou that dwell'st on Helicon, Hymen, O thy brows impale, To the bride the bridegroom hale Take thy saffron robe and come With sweet-flowered marjoram; Yellow socks of woollen wear, With a smiling look appear; Shrill Epithalamiums sing, Let this day with pleasure spring; Nimbly dance; the flaming tree Take in that fair hand of thine. Let good auguries combine For the pair that now are wed; Let their joys be nourishèd Like a myrtle, ever green, Owned by the Cyprian queen, Who fosters it with rosy dew, Where her nymphs their sport pursue. Leave th' Aonian cave behind (Come, O come with willing mind!) And the Thespian rocks, whence drill Aganippe waters still. Chastest virgins, you that are Either for to make or mar, Make the air with Hymen ring, GEORGE DIGBY, EARL OF BRISTOL. (?) (1612-1676.) SONG. From the comedy of Elvira, 1667; in Hazlitt's Dodsley, vol. xv. SEE, O see! How every tree, Every bower, Every flower, A new life gives to others' joys, Whilst that I Grief-stricken lie, Nor can meet With any sweet But what faster mine destroys. What are all the senses' pleasures, Hear, O hear! How sweet and clear The nightingale And waters' fall In concert join for others' ears, Whilst to me, For harmony, Echoes despair, And every drop provokes a tear. What are all the senses' pleasures, EDMUND WALLER. (1605-1687.) Three editions of Waller's Poems, in which the first three selections given below were published, appeared in 1645. The contents do not vary. The last extract was written by Waller when he was over eighty years of age. Waller's Poems are reprinted in Chalmers' Poets, vol. viii., also in the Muses' Library, 1892, edited by Mr. G. Thorn Drury. ON A GIRDLE. THAT which her slender waist confined, No monarch but would give his crown A narrow compass, and yet there SONG. Go, lovely Rose, Tell her that wastes her time and me, When I resemble her to thee How sweet and fair she seems to be. Tell her that's young, And shuns to have her graces spied, In deserts where no men abide, Thou must have uncommended died. Small is the worth Of beauty from the light retired; Suffer herself to be desired, And not blush so to be admired. Then die, that she The common fate of all things rare How small a part of time they share TO A LADY IN RETIREMENT. EES not my love, how Time resumes SEES The glory which he lent these flowers? Though none should taste of their perfumes Yet must they live but some few hours: Time, what we forbear, devours! Had Helen, or the Egyptian queen, Should some malignant planet bring A barren drought, or ceaseless shower, Upon the autumn, or the spring, And spare us neither fruit nor flower; Could the resolve of Love's neglect THE THE LAST PROSPECT. 'HE seas are quiet when the winds give o'er; The soul's dark cottage, battered and decayed, As they draw near to their eternal home: Leaving the old, both worlds at once they view, ABRAHAM COWLEY. (1618-1667.) ON SOLITUDE. Accompanying the prose Essay on Solitude, in the Essays in Verse and Prose, 1668. Cowley's Works, edited by Dr. Grosart, occupy two volumes of the Chertsey Worthies Library. His poems are included in vol. vii. of Chalmers' Poets. HAIL, old patrician trees, so great and good! Where the poetic birds rejoice, And for their quiet nests and plenteous food, Hail, the poor muse's richest manor seat! That for you oft they quit their bright and great |