EVERLASTING MEMORIES. O monument of me remain; In the same marble with my dust, By writing wanton or profane. Ye glorious wonders of the skies, Th' Almighty's mystic characters- Nor to perfume her veins, while I In each one set The purple of the violet: The untouch'd flower may grow and die, Safe from my fancy's injury. Open my lips, great God! and then The humble flights of earthly love; HABINGTON. THE RETREAT. APPY those early days, when I Before I taught my tongue to wound And tread again that ancient track! That I might once more reach that plain But ah! my soul with too much stay HENRY VAUGHAN. DEATH'S CONQUEST. HE glories of our birth 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, Early or late 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! All heads must come To the cold tomb; Only the actions of the just Smell sweet and blossom in the dust. JAMES SHIRLEY. 1596-1666. TIMES GO BY TURNS. HE lopp'd tree in time may grow again, Most naked plants renew both fruit and flower; The sorriest wight may find release from pain; The driest soil suck in some moistening shower. Times go by turns; and chances change by course, From foul to fair, from better hap to worse. The sea of fortune doth not ever flow, She draws her favours to the lowest ebb; Not always fall of leaf, nor ever spring; The roughest storm a calm may soon allay. ROBERT SOUTHWELL. 1560-1595. THE CONTINUAL FEAST. M Y conscience is my crown, My wishes are but few, All easy to fulfil; I make the limits of my power |