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Ambition lose, and have no other scope,

Save Carlisle's favour, to employ their hope.

The Thracian1 could (though all those tales were true
The bold Greeks tell) no greater wonders do;
Before his feet so sheep and lions lay,

Fearless and wrathless while they heard him play.
The gay, the wise, the gallant, and the grave,
Subdued alike, all but one passion have;
No worthy mind but finds in hers there is
Something proportion'd to the rule of his;
While she with cheerful, but impartial grace,
(Born for no one, but to delight the race
Of men) like Phoebus so divides her light,
And warms us, that she stoops not from her height.

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THYRSIS, GALATEA.1

THYRSIS.

As lately I on silver Thames did ride,

Sad Galatea on the bank I spied;

Such was her look as sorrow taught to shine,

And thus she graced me with a voice divine.

GALATEA.

You that can tune your sounding strings so well,

Of ladies' beauties, and of love to tell,

Once change your note, and let your lute report

The justest grief that ever touch'd the Court.

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26 Thracian': Orpheus. — 2 Galatea': the lady here mourned was the Duchess of Hamilton, a niece of Buckingham; she died in 1638.

THYRSIS.

Fair nymph! I have in your delights no share, 9 Nor ought to be concerned in your care;

Yet would I sing if I your sorrows knew,

And to my aid invoke no Muse but you.

GALATEA.

Hear then, and let your song augment our grief,
Which is so great as not to wish relief.
She that had all which Nature gives, or Chance,
Whom Fortune join'd with Virtue to advance
To all the joys this island could afford,
The greatest mistress, and the kindest lord;
Who with the royal mix'd her noble blood,
And in high grace with Gloriana1 stood;

Her bounty, sweetness, beauty, goodness, such,
That none e'er thought her happiness too much;
So well-inclined her favours to confer,

And kind to all, as Heaven had been to her!
The virgin's part, the mother, and the wife,
So well she acted in this span of life,

That though few years (too flew, alas!) she told,
She seem'd in all things, but in beauty, old.
As unripe fruit, whose verdant stalks do cleave
Close to the tree, which grieves no less to leave
The smiling pendant which adorns her so,
And until autumn on the bough should grow;
So seem'd her youthful soul not eas'ly forced,
Or from so fair, so sweet a seat divorced.
Her fate at once did hasty seem and slow;
At once too cruel, and unwilling too.

Gloriana': Queen Henrietta.

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THYRSIS.

Under how hard a law are mortals born!

Whom now we envy, we anon must mourn;

What Heaven sets highest, and seems most to prize,
Is soon removed from our wond'ring eyes!

But since the Sisters 1 did so soon untwine
So fair a thread, I'll strive to piece the line.
Vouchsafe, sad nymph! to let me know the dame,
And to the Muses I'll commend her name;
Make the wide country echo to your moan,
The list'ning trees and savage mountains groan.
What rock's not moved when the death is sung
Of one so good, so lovely, and so young?

GALATEA.

'Twas Hamilton!-whom I had named before, But naming her, grief lets me say no more.

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ON MY LADY DOROTHY SIDNEY'S PICTURE.2

SUCH was Philoclea, and such Dorus' flame!
The matchless Sidney, that immortal frame
Of perfect beauty on two pillars placed,
Not his high fancy could one pattern, graced
With such extremes of excellence, compose;
Wonders so distant in one face disclose!
Such cheerful modesty, such humble state,
Moves certain love, but with as doubtful fate

'Sisters': Parca-Dorothy Sidney' see Life for an account of Saccharissa.'

B

As when, beyond our greedy reach, we see
Inviting fruit on too sublime a tree.

All the rich flowers through his Arcadia found,
Amazed we see in this one garland bound.
Had but this copy (which the artist took
From the fair picture of that noble book)
Stood at Kalander's, the brave friends had jarr'd,
And, rivals made, th' ensuing story marr'd.
Just nature, first instructed by his thought,
In his own house thus practised what he taught;
This glorious piece transcends what he could think,
So much his blood is nobler than his ink!1

AT PENSHURST.

HAD Dorothea lived when mortals made
Choice of their deities, this sacred shade
Had held an altar to her power, that gave
The peace and glory which these alleys have;
Embroider'd so with flowers where she stood,
That it became a garden of a wood.

Her presence has such more than human grace,
That it can civilise the rudest place;

And beauty too, and order, can impart,
Where nature ne'er intended it, nor art.

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The plants acknowledge this, and her admire,
No less than those of old did Orpheus' lyre;

If she sit down, with tops all tow'rds her bow'd,
They round about her into arbours crowd;

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1Philoclea and Dorus': the reader may turn for these names and their histories, to the glorious, flowery wilderness of the Arcadia.' Sidney was granduncle to Dorothy.

Or if she walk, in even ranks they stand,
Like some well-marshall'd and obsequious band.
Amphion so made stones and timber leap
Into fair figures from a confused heap;
And in the symmetry of her parts is found
A power like that of harmony in sound.

Ye lofty beeches, tell this matchless dame,
That if together ye fed all one flame,
It could not equalise the hundredth part
Of what her eyes have kindled in my heart!
Go, boy, and carve this passion on the bark
Of yonder tree, which stands the sacred mark
Of noble Sidney's birth; when such benign,
Such more than mortal-making stars did shine,
That there they cannot but for ever prove
The monument and pledge of humble love;
His humble love whose hope shall ne'er rise higher,
Than for a pardon that he dares admire.

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OF THE LADY WHO CAN SLEEP WHEN SHE PLEASES.1

No wonder sleep from careful lovers flies,
To bathe himself in Saccharissa's eyes.
As fair Astræa once from earth to heaven,
By strife and loud impiety was driven;
So with our plaints offended, and our tears,
Wise Somnus to that paradise repairs;

Waits on her will, and wretches does forsake,

To court the nymph for whom those wretches wake.

1 She is said to have been like Dudu

'Large, and languishing, and lazy,

Yet of a beauty that might drive you crazy.'

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