Gentle Henrietta then, And a third Mary next began; Then Joan and Jane, and Audria, And then a long et cetera. But should I now to you relate, If I should tell the politic arts, The letters, embassies, and spies, Numberless, nameless mysteries! And all the little lime-twigs laid, I more voluminous should grow, But I will briefer with them be, My present empress doth claim, Whom God grant long to reign! I add a few original stanzas, which show Cowley's characteristic merits and defects;-very few, since I must find room for some of those translations from Anacreon, which for grace, spirit, and delicacy, will never be surpassed. OF SOLITUDE. Hail, old patrician trees, so great and good! Where the poetic birds rejoice, And for their quiet nests and plenteous food, Happy insect! what can be Thou dost drink, and dance, and sing, The shepherd gladly heareth thee, More harmonious than he, Thee country hinds with gladness hear, Prophet of the ripened year! Thee Phoebus loves and doth inspire; Phoebus is himself thy sire. To thee, of all things upon earth, Life is no longer than thy mirth. C Happy insect! happy thou, Dost neither age nor winter know; But when thou'st drunk, and danced, and sung Thy fill, the flowery leaves among, (Voluptuous and wise withal, Epicurean animal!) Sated with thy summer feast, Thou retir'st to endless rest. DRINKING. From Anacreon. The thirsty earth soaks up the rain, GOLD. From Anacreon. A mighty pain to love it is, A curse on her, and on the man, A curse on him who found the ore! On him who used it first in love! These the smallest harms of it! Gold, alas! does love beget. I can not conclude without a word of detestation toward Sprat, who, Goth and Vandal that he was, destroyed Cowley's familiar letters. V. COMIC POETS. J. ANSTEY. My acquaintance with "The Pleader's Guide" commenced some five-and-forty years ago, after the following fashion. It had happened to me to make one of a large Christmas party in a large country mansion, the ladies whereof were assembled one morning dolefully enough in an elegant drawing-room. It was what sportsmen are pleased to call "a fine open day;" which, being interpreted according to the feminine version, means every variety of bad weather of which our climate is capable, excepting frost. Dirt, intolerable dirt, it always means, and rain pretty often. On the morning in question, it did not absolutely rain, it only mizzled; but the clouds hung over our heads in a leaden canopy, threatening a down pour; and all the signs of the earth testified to the foregone deluge that had already confined us to the house until our patience was worn to a thread. Heavy drops fell from the eaves, the trees in the park were dripping from every bough, the fallen leaves under the trees dank with moisture, the grass as wet as if it grew in a ford, the gravel-walks soft and plashy, the carriage drives no better than mud. In short, it was the very dismalest weather that ever answered to the name of "a fine open day ;" and our sportsmen accordingly had all sallied forth to enjoy it, some to join Sir John's hounds, some to a great coursing meeting at Streatley. As we stood at the windows bemoaning our imprisonment, we saw that the drizzle was fast settling into steady rain, and that there was no more chance of a ride on horseback, or a drive in an open carriage, than of the exhilarating walk which is the proper exercise of Christmas. All the pets about the park sympathized in our afflictions. The deer dropped off to their closest covert; the pied peacock, usually so stately and so dignified as he |