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The Mounts are watred from thy dwelling place;

The Barns and Meads are fill'd for Man and Beast ;
Wine glads the Heart, and Oyl adorns the Face,
And bread the staff whereon our strength doth rest;

Nor shrubs alone feel thy sufficeing hand,
But even the Cedars that so proudly stand.

So have the Fowls their sundry seats to breed;

The ranging Stork in stately Beeches dwells ;
The climing Goats on Hills securely feed;
The mining Coneys shroud in rocky Cells :

Nor can the Heavenly Lights their course forget,
The Moon her turns, or Sun his times to set.

Thou mak'st the Night to over-vail the Day:
savage Beasts


from the silent Wood; Then Lions Whelps lie roaring for their Prey, And at thy powerful Hand demand their Food;

Who when at Morn they all recouch again,
Then toyling Man till Eve pursues his pain.

O Lord, when on thy various works we look,

How richly furnish'd is the Earth we tread!
Where, in the fair Contents of Nature's Book,
We may the Wonders of thy Wisdom read:

Nor Earth alone, but lo! the Sea so wide,
Where, great and small, a world of Creatures glide.


There go* the Ships that furrow out their way;

Yea, there of Whales enormous sights we see,

So eds. 1651 and 1854. In ed. 1672, it is misprinted,' There go to the Ships

Which yet have scope among the rest to play,
And all do wait for their support on Thee;

Who hast assign'd each thing his proper food,
And in due season dost dispence Thy good.

They gather when Thy gifts thou dost divide;

Their stores abound, if Thou thy hand enlarge; Confus'd they are, when Thou thy beams dost hide; In dust resolv'd, if Thou their breath discharge ;

Again, when Thou of Life renew'st the seeds,
The withered Fields revest their chearful weeds.

Be ever gloried here Thy Soveraign Name,

That thou may'st smile on all which thou hast made ;
Whose frown alone can shake this earthly frame,
And at whose touch the Hills in smoak shall vade!

For me, may (while I breath) both harp and voice
In sweet indictment of thy Hymns rejoyce!

Let Sinners fail, let all Profaneness cease ;
His Praise (my Soul) His Praise shall be thy Peace.

H. Wotton.

· H. W.' ed, 1654.

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[Sir ALBERTUS Morton was Wotton's nephew, and bad been his Secretary at Venice. He was frequently employed by King James on foreign affairs,—was knighted by him Sept. 29: 1617: and died Secretary of State in November, 1625 (as Wood correctly states), “in the vernality (as I may term it),” says his uncle, “ of his employments and Fortunes under the best King and Master of the World."* Sir Henry never mentions him without expressing his affectionate regard for him;t and though Walton has inserted the following extract in his Life of Wotton, I need offer no

Wood's A. 0. ii. 523-4. Rel. Wotton. p. 477. Administration was granted to bis widow in Dec. 1625. She was Elizabeth, daughter of Sir Edward Apsley, of Thakeham, Sossex; was married Jan, 13:1624; and died S. P. 1627, which gives the date of Wotton's Epitaph on her.-Mor. ton's relationship to Wotton is stated at length in the Introd. to this vol.

+ See an account of an accident that befell Sir Albertus in 1613: Rel. Wotton. 417, 421, 425, and compare ib. 443, 552.

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apology for repeating it here:-“Here [i. e. at Redgrave] when I had been almost a Fortnight in the midst of much Contentment, I received knowledge of Sir Albertus Morton's departure out of this World, who was dearer unto me than mine own being in it. What a wound it is to my Heart, you will easily believe: But his undisputable Will must be done, and unrepiningly received by his own Creatures, who is the Lord of all Nature, and of all Fortune, when he taketh now one, and then another, till the expected day wherein it shall please him to Dissolve the whole, and to wrap up even the Heaven it self as a Scroul of Parchment. This is the last Philosophy that we must study upon the Earth; let us now, that yet remain, while our Glasses shall run by the droping away of Friends, re-inforce our Love to one another; which of all Vertues, both Spiritual and Moral, hath the highest privilege, because Death it self shall not end it."*

The Variations are from a copy of the Poem inserted in Walton's Life of Wotton (=A), † and from MS. Rawl. Poet. 147, p. 107. (=B.)]

BILENCE (in truth) would speak my sorrow

best, For deepest wounds can least their feelings


Yet let me borrow from mine own unrest
But time to bid him, whom I loved, farewel.

[5] O my unhappy Lines ! you that before

Have serv'd my Youth to vent some wanton cries,

• Rel. Wotton, 322. Letter to Nic. Pey, dated 1626 in ed. 1672, no doubt by mistake. There is no date in the two earlier eds. Walton has varied it a little in the Life.

+ All that portion of the Life which concerns Morton and Bedel, was first inserted in ed. 1654. It will be seen that the copy printed in that year differs from the one given in 1672.

And now, congeald with grief, can scarce implore
Strength to accent,--Here my Albertus lies!

This is the sable Stone, this is the Cave (10) And Womb of Earth that doth his Corps embrace ;

While others sing his praise, let me engrave
These bleeding Numbers to adorn the place.

Here will I paint the Characters of wo;

Here will I pay my tribute to the Dead; [15] And here my faithful Tears in showres shall flow,

To humanize the Flints whereon I tread.

Where, though I mourn my matchless loss alone,
And none between my Weakness judge and me,

Yet even these gentle Walls allow my moan, [20] Whose doleful Echoes to my Plaints


But is he gone ? and live 1 Rhyming here,

As if some Muse would listen to my Lay,
When all distun'd sit wai[1]ing for their Dear,
And bathe the Banks where he was wont to play?

[25] Dwell thou in endless Light, discharged Soul,

Freed now from Natures and from Fortunes trust;
While on this fluent Globe my Glass shall roul,
And run the rest of my remaining dust.

H. W.

(Variations. 1. 'will speak my sorrows'-B.-4. * A time'A. loue'—B.-9. 'that Sable stone'-A, Sand yis ye caue'

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