I would be great, but that the sun doth still
Level his rays against the rising hill:

I would be high, but see the proudest oak
Most subject to the rending thunder-stroke:
I would be rich, but see men, too unkind,
Dig in the bowels of the richest mine:
I would be wise, but that I often see
The fox suspected, whilst the ass goes free:
I would be fair, but see the fair and proud,
Like the bright sun, oft setting in a cloud:
I would be poor, but know the humble grass
Still trampled on by each unworthy ass:
Rich hated: wise suspected: scorn'd if poor:
Great fear'd: fair tempted: high still envy'd more:
I have wish'd all; but now I wish for neither;
Great, high, rich, wise nor fair; poor I'll be rather.

*

*

*

Welcome pure thoughts, welcome ye silent groves,
These guests, these courts, my soul most dearly loves:
Now the wing'd people of the sky shall sing
My cheerful anthems to the gladsome spring:
A prayer-book now shall be my looking-glass,
In which I will adore sweet virtue's face.
Here dwell no hateful looks, no palace-cares,
No broken vows dwell here, nor pale-fac'd fears:
Then here I'll sit, and sigh my hot love's folly,
And learn t' affect an holy melancholy;

And if Contentment be a stranger then,
I'll ne'er look for it, but in Heaven again.

ON HIS MISTRESS, THE QUEEN OF BOHEMIA.

You meaner beauties of the night,
That poorly satisfie our eyes
More by your number, than your light,
You common people of the skies;

What are you when the sun shall rise?

You curious chaunters of the wood,
That warble forth dame Nature's layes,
Thinking your passions understood
By your weak accents; what's your praise
When Philomel her voice shall raise?

You violets, that first appear,
By your pure purple mantles known,
Like the proud virgins of the year,
As if the spring were all your own;
What are you when the rose is blown?
So, when my mistress shall be seen
In sweetness of her looks and mind,
By vertue first, then choice a queen,
Tell me, if she were not design'd

Th' eclipse and glory of her kind?

THE CHARACTER OF A HAPPY LIFE.

How happy is he born and taught,
That serveth not another's will!
Whose armour is his honest thought,
And simple truth his utmost skill!

Whose passions not his masters are,
Whose soul is still prepar'd for death;
Unti'd unto the world by care
Of publick fame, or private breath.

Who envies none that chance doth raise,
Nor vice hath ever understood;
How deepest wounds are giv'n by praise,
Nor rules of state, but rules of good.

Who hath his life from rumours freed,
Whose conscience is his strong retreat:
Whose state can neither flatterers feed,
Nor ruine make oppressors great.

Who God doth late and early pray,
More of his grace than gifts to lend:
And entertains the harmless day
With a well-chosen book, or friend.

This man is freed from servile bands,
Of hope to rise, or fear to fall:
Lord of himself, though not of lands;
And having nothing, yet hath all.

SIR JOHN DAVIES was born at Chisgrove, Wiltshire, in 1570. His father was a tanner. In 1585, he entered Queen's College, Oxford, and three years afterwards removed to the Middle Temple, where he was guilty of various irregularities, continually "interrupting the quiet of the Inn;" until, at length, after having been called to the Bar in 1597, he was expelled the Society, for that he being, according to Wood, a "high-spirited young man, did upon some little provocation or punctilio bastinado Richard Martin,"-also one of the race of wits "more forward to offend than patient to suffer." In 1601, however, he "made proper submission," was restored to his chambers, and soon afterwards took his seat in the last Parliament of Elizabeth as member for Corfe-Castle. He had previously published his "Hymns to Astrea," a series of twenty-six acrostics in honour of the Virgin Queen, and also his "Nosce Teipsum, or the Immortality of the Soul," which appeared in 1599. This poem at once established his reputation; and it is stated that on his visiting Scotland to congratulate James the First on his accession, he was recognized by the King, who "graciously embraced him, and thenceforward had so great favour for him that he made him his Solicitor and then his Attorney General in Ireland." In Ireland, he laboured to make himself accurately acquainted with the state of the people and the country; and published, from time to time, several historical tracts, which bear evidence of his talents, integrity, and penetration. In 1607, he was knighted; and became Speaker of the first Irish House of Commons formed by a general representation. In 1615 he quitted Ireland, and was appointed Lord Chief Justice of England; but died of apoplexy on the 7th of December, 1626, before the ceremony of settlement or installation had been performed. He was buried in the Church of St. Martin-in-theFields, and appears to have merited the eulogy inscribed upon his monument-" He was a man of fine genius, and of uncommon eloquence; and an excellent writer both in prose and in verse. He tempered the severity of the lawyer by the elegance of his manners and the accomplishments of polite literature. He was a faithful advocate and an incorrupt judge; and equally remarkable for his contempt of superstition, and his attachment to sincere and genuine piety."

His poetical works are The Immortality of the Soul; and Orchestra, a poem on Dancing-which he left unfinished. In the former his object was to give, through the medium of verse, all the arguments in support of the immateriality and immortality of the soul. He has divided his poem into thirty-four sections; each section illustrating some such position as this-"that the soul is a thing subsisting by itself without the body." It is didactic, and not inharmonious, and exhibits a perfect mastery of language; but it depends for success rather upon philosophy than poetry. It is an able and skilful piece of reasoning, occasionally adorned with rich or agreeable imagery, and giving evidence in support of the epitaph we have quoted; but it scarcely merits the title of a Poem; the author rarely warms with his subject, and although, throughout, calm and argumentative, is never enthusiastic or impassioned. He writes in fact like a lawyer, who puts a case as strongly as possible for his client, but appears to entertain little interest in the result. The work is recommended, in a Preface to the Edition of 1699, "as satisfying the understanding of mankind;"-as "rendering the soul intelligible;" as teaching us to "find out what we ourselves are, from whence we came, and whither we must go;" as laying open "all the windings and labyrinths of the human frame;" and as showing by what "pullies and wheels the work is carried on." Notwithstanding this high eulogium we may be permitted to doubt whether the Poet has thrown any new light on the subject-or whether the few axioms at the heads of his sections are not as convincing as the rhymed reasoning that follows them.

His Poem on Dancing *—a dissertation on the antiquity and excellency of the art, in a dialogue between Penelope and one of her wooers-although upon a subject so opposite, is liable to the same complaint; it is coldly correct; and his Hymns to Astrea had more of flattery than of poetry to recommend them to the "Eternal Virgin, Goddess true"-the inspirer of his acrostics

"Loadstone to hearts, and loadstar to all eyes."

It has been erroneously stated by several of the biographers of Sir John Davies, that this Poem was composed while the author was "a judge and a statesman." It was printed in 1596.

DAVIES.

FROM THE IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL.

HER quick'ning power in ev'ry living part,
Doth as a nurse, or as a mother serve;

And doth employ her œconomick art,

And buisy care, her household to preserve.

Here she attracts, and there she doth retain; There she dococts, and doth the food prepare;

There she distributes it to ev'ry vein,

There she expels what she may fitly spare.

scarcely merits the title of a Poem; the author rarely warms with his subject, and although, throughout, calm and argumentative, is never enthusiastic or impassioned. He writes in fact like a lawyer, who puts a case as strongly as possible for his client, but appears to entertain little interest in the result. The work is recommended, in a Preface to the Edition of 1699,"as satisfying the understanding of mankind;"-as "rendering the soul intelligible;" as teaching us to "find out what we ourselves are, from whence we came, and whither we must go;" as laying open "all the windings and labyrinths of the human frame;" and as showing by what "pullies and wheels the work is carried on." Notwithstanding this high eulogium we may be permitted to doubt whether the Poet has thrown any new light on the subject-or whether the few axioms at the heads of his sections are not as convincing as the rhymed reasoning that follows them.

His Poem on Dancing *—a dissertation on the antiquity and excellency of the art, in a dialogue between Penelope and one of her wooers-although upon a subject so opposite, is liable to the same complaint; it is coldly correct; and his Hymns to Astrea had more of flattery than of poetry to recommend them to the "Eternal Virgin, Goddess true"-the inspirer of his acrostics-

"Loadstone to hearts, and loadstar to all eyes."

It has been erroneously stated by several of the biographers of Sir John Davies, that this Poem was composed while the author was "a judge and a statesman." It was printed in 1536.