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So have I seen some tender slip,
Gentle lady, may thy grave
Hill and dale doth boast thy blessing.
ON SHAKSPEARE. 1630.
WHAT needs my Shakspeare for his honour'd bones
XI. ON THE UNIVERSITY CARRIER, Who sickened in the time of his vacancy, being forbid
to go to London, by reason of the plague, HERE lies old Hobson ; Death hath broke his girt, And here, alas! hath laid him in the dirt; Or else the ways being foul, twenty to one, He's here stuck in a slough, and overthrown. 'Twas such a shifter, that, if truth were known, Death was half glad when he had got him down; For he had, any time this ten years full, Dodg'd with him, betwixt Cambridge and The Bull. And surely Death could never have prevail'd, Had not his weekly course of carriage fail'd; 10 But lately finding him so long at home, And thinking now his journey's end was come, And that he had ta'en up his latest inn, In the kind office of a chamberlin Show'd him his room where he must lodge that night, Pulld off his boots, and took away the light : 16 If any ask for him, it shall be said, * Hobson has supt, and's newly gone to bed.”
ANOTHER ON THE SAME.
5 Until his revolution was at stay. Time numbers motion, yet (without a crime 'Gainst old truth) motion number'd out his time; And, like an engine mov'd with wheel and weight, His principles being ceas'd, he ended straighto 10 Vol. II.
Rest, that gives all men life, gave him his death,
HRNCE, leathed Melancholy, of Cerberus and blackest Midnight born, In Stygian care forlorn, 'Mongst horrid shapes, and shrieks, and sights
unholy ! Find out some uncouth cell,
Where brooding Darkness spreads his jealous wings, And the night-raven sings;
There under ebon shades, and low-brow'd rocks,
es ragged as thy locks,
In dark Cimmerian desert ever dwell. But come, thou Goddess fair and free, In Heavn yelep'd Euphrosyne, And by men, heart-easing Mirth; Whom lovely Venus, at a birth, With two sister Graces more, To ivy-crowned Bacchus bore: Or whether (as some sager sing) The frolic wind, that breathes the spring, Zephyr, with Aurora playing, As he met her once a Maying ; There on beds of violets blue, The fresh-blown roses wash'd in dew, Fill'd her with thee a daughter fair, So buxom, blithe, and debonair.
Haste thee, Nymph, and bring with thee Jest, and youthful Jollity, (Quips, and Cranks, and wanton Wiles, Nods, and Becks, and wreathed Smiles, Such as hang on Hebe's cheek, And love to live in dimple sleek; Sport that wrinkled Care derides, And Laughter holding both his sides. / Come, and trip it, as you go, On the light fantastic toe; || And in thy night hand lead with thee, The mountain nymph, sweet Liberty; And, if I give thee honour due, Mirth, admit me of thy crew, To live with her, and live with thee, In unreproved pleasures free; . To hear the lark begin his flight, And singing startle the dull night, From his watch-tow'r in the skies, Till the dappled dawn doth rise; Then to come, in spite of sorrow, And at my window bid good morrow, Through the sweet-briar, or the vine, Or the twisted eglantine: