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XXXVIII. BEN JONSON. 1. EPITAPH ON THE COUNTESS OF PEMBROKE. Underneath this sable hearse Lies the subject of all verse, Sidney's sister, Pembroke's mother. Death, ere thou hast kill'd another, Fair and learn’d and good as she Time shall throw his dart at thee,
2. EPITAPH ON ELIZABETH L. H. Would'st thou hear what man can say In a little, reader, stay.
Underneath this stone doth lie
3. ROBIN GOODFELLOW. More swift than lightning can I fly
About this aëry welkin soon,
There's not a hag
* This is generally read as follows:
Underneath this stone doth lie
But Robin I
Their feats will spy,
As from their night sports they trudge home :
Through woods, through lakes,
Through bogs, through brakes ; Or else unseen with them I go,
All in the nick,
To play some trick,
Sometimes an ox, sometimes an hound,
But if to ride,
My back to stride, More swift than wind away I go; 1 O'er hedge and lands,
Through pools and ponds,
With possets and rich juncates fine,
And to make sport,
I puff and snort,
And maids I kiss,
They shriek—who's this?
At midnight I card up their wool;
With wheel to threads their flax I pull.
I grind at mill
Their malt up still,
If any walk,
And would me talk.
In loopholes, where the vermins creep,
I spy the gin,
And enter in,
But when they there
Approach me near,
4. PICTURE OF THE MIND. Painter, you're come, but may be gone,
Now I have better thought thereon,
And give you reasons more than one.
But here I may no colours use.
To draw a thing that cannot sit.
An eagle towering in the sky,
But these are like a mind, not it.
Would ask a heaven's intelligence;
But what's of kin to whence it came.
As you go on, by what brave way
I call you, Muse; now make it true :
may every line be you : That all may say, that see the frame,
This is no picture, but the same.
As 'tis not radiant, but divine ;
'Tis got where it can try the fire. There, high exalted in the sphere,
As it another nature were,
As circular as infinite.
In speech, it is with that excess
As what it spoke, it planted there.
As some soft chime had stroked the air ; And though the sound were parted thence,
Still left an echo in the sense.
So swift, so pure, should yet apply
Earth's grossness; there's the how and why. Is it because it sees us dull,
And sunk in clay here, it would pull
Up to her own subliméd height?
Some Paradise or palace found,
For her t’ inhabit? There is it.
For this so lofty form, so straight,
As it slid moulded off from heaven.
But stooping gently, as a cloud,
As smooth as oil pour'd forth, and calm
As showers, and sweet as drops of balm,
Where it may run to any good;
A nest of odorous spice and gums.
In rest, like spirits left behind
or field of flowers,
Yet know, with what thou art possest,
But such a mind, mak'st God thy guest.
OF MEXICO. Guiom. As far as I could cast my eyes, Upon the sea, something, methought, did rise Like bluish mists, which, still appearing more, Took dreadful shapes, and thus mov'd towards the shore: The object, I could first distinctly view, Was tall straight trees which on the water flew : Wings on their sides instead of leaves did grow, Which gather'd all the breath the winds could blow : And at their feet grew floating palaces, Whose out-blow'd bellies cut the yielding seas !
MONTEZUMA. What divine monsters, O ye gods, are That float in air, and fly upon the seas ?
[these. Came they alive or dead upon the shore ?
Guiom. Alas, they liv’d too sure: I heard them ro&r. All turn’d their sides, and to each other spoke: I saw their words break out in fire and smoke, Sure 'tis their voice that thunders from on high, And these the younger brothers of the sky. Deaf with the noise, I took my hasty flight: No mortal courage can support the fright.
6. HYMN TO THE MOON.
Now the sun is laid to sleep,