66 FROM A DIRGE." Farewell, Sweet groves, to you! You hills that highest dwell, And all you humble vales, adieu ! My dear companions all, and you, my tender flocks! Farewell, my pipe, and all those pleasing songs whose moving strains Delighted once the fairest nymphs that dance upon the plains! You discontents, whose deep and over-deadly smart Have without pity broke the truest heart, Sighs, tears, and every sad annoy, That erst did with me dwell, BROWNE. WILLIAM BROWNE was descended from a respectable stock, and born at Tavistock A.D. 1590. He was educated at Oxford, and returned thither, in his later life, as tutor to the Earl of Caernarvon. He lived subsequently in the family of the Earl of Pembroke; and is supposed to have settled finally at Ottery St. Mary's, in Devonshire. He died A.D. 1645. There is in the poetry of William Browne an extraordinary sense of the beautiful, and a vivid appreciation of pastoral and sylvan scenery. His muse is of a delicate temperament, and seems ever to breathe a southern air. In his descriptive passages he rather delineates special objects, like the ancients, than presents us with landscapes, like the modern poets. In moral sweetness and inventive grace he bears an analogy to Spenser, though he lacks his strength and variety. RIVERS. As I have seen upon a bridall-day Triton came up a channell with his mirth, And call'd the neighb'ring nymphs, each in her turne, To waite upon this new-delivered spring. Some, running through the meadows, with them bring To light upon some gardener's curious knot, Whence she upon her brest (love's sweete repose) Some from the fen bring reeds, wilde-thyme from downes; This while the floud, which yet the rocke up pent, And suffered not with jocund merriment To tread rounds in his spring, came rushing forth, * * * Right so this river stormes: Survayes his conquest, lauds his enterprise: And makes that channell which was shepheard's lease: Helpes downe an abbey; then a naturall bridge MORNING. By this had chanticleer, the village cock, Before the labouring bee had left the hive, THE ROSE. Look, as a sweet rose fairly budding forth Some white and curious hand, inviting SHIRLEY. [Born 1596-died 1666.] JAMES SHIRLEY, the last great dramatist of the early school, was born in London A.D. 1596, and educated first at Oxford, and subsequently at Cambridge. On leaving the University he took orders, and held a living at St. Alban's. Becoming a Roman Catholic, he surrendered his ecclesiastical preferment, and earned his subsistence as a teacher in a grammar-school. Soon afterwards he repaired to London, where he was eminently successful as a dramatic writer, and had other opportunities of advancement, of which, had he not stood averse to courtly arts, he might have largely availed himself. In 1637 Shirley went to Ireland; and several of the plays which he wrote at this time were first acted in the theatre established in Dublin by John Ogilby, under the patronage of the Earl of Strafford. On the breaking out of the great Rebellion, Shirley took the side of the monarchy. The restoration of Charles II. produced no change in his depressed fortunes. The theatres were reopened; but their license exceeded even that which had preceded the reign of Puritanism. Shirley had resolved to write for them no more; and he kept his resolution. He lived chiefly in London till the great fire of 1666. The fatigues and losses connected with that event were too much for his then enfeebled frame; he and his wife sank beneath the shock, and died on the same day. They were buried together in the church of St. Giles in the Fields, Middlesex. The blamelessness of Shirley's life, and the amiability of his disposition, made him the favourite of his contemporaries. In dramatic composition he possessed an extraordinary facility and origin ality, as well as great copiousness of thought, brilliancy of fancy, and richness of imagery. Of his lyrical genius the following is a noble specimen. DEATH'S FINAL CONQUEST. The glories of our blood and state Must tumble down, And in the dust be equal made With the poor crooked scythe and spade. Some men with swords may reap the field, They stoop to fate, And must give up their murmuring breath The garlands wither on your brow; Then boast no more your mighty deeds. See where the victor-victim bleeds. To the cold tomb; Only the actions of the just Smell sweet and blossom in their dust. MILTON. THE life of Milton must ever be differently regarded according to the religious and political opinions of those who reflect on it. He was born A.D. 1608, and received an education both learned and religious from his father, a clergyman and accomplished musician. At Cambridge he was distinguished not only for his youthful learning, but for his noble beauty, which won for him the name of the lady" of his college. On leaving the University he continued to prosecute his studies with intense assiduity at his father's house at Horton in Buckinghamshire. Rich in all the classic learning of 66 |