Time's gentle admonition;

Who did so sweetly death's sad taste convey,
Making my mind to smell my fatal day,

Yet sugaring the suspicion.

Farewell, dear flow'rs! sweetly your time ye spent, Fit, while ye liv'd, for smell and ornament,

And after death, for cures.

I follow straight, without complaints or grief,
Since, if my scent be good, I care not if

It' be as short as yours.

ISAAC WALTON.

This author was born in 1593, and died 1683. He is justly celebrated for his biographical pieces, and has described the characters of Sir H. Wotton, Donne, Hooker, and Herbert, with a degree of minuteness, which he alone could render interesting. But he is principally known by his "Com"plete Angler;" a truly original treatise on the theory of an art from which the invincible patience of some men is able to extract amusement.

THE ANGLER'S WISH.

I IN these flowery meads would be:
These chrystal streams should solace me;
To whose harmonious bubbling noise,

I with my angle would rejoice,

Sit here, and see the turtle dove

Court his chaste mate to acts of love.

Or on that bank, feel the west wind
Breathe health and plenty, please my mind
To see sweet dew-drops kiss these flowers,
And then wash'd off by April-showers;

There hear my Kenna sing a song, Here see a black-bird feed her young,

Or a leverock build her nest;
Here give my weary spirits rest,

And raise my low-pitch'd thoughts above
Earth, or what poor mortals love:

Thus free from law-suits, and the noise
Of princes' courts I would rejoice.

Or with my Bryan,2 and a book,
Loiter long days near Shawford-brook ;
There sit by him and eat my meat,
There see the sun both rise and set:
There bid good morning to next day,
There meditate my time away,

1

And angle on, and beg to have

A quiet passage to a welcome grave.

Laverock, lark.

Supposed to be the name of a favourite dog.

JAMES SHIRLEY,

Was born in London, about 1594, educated at Merchant Taylors' School, entered at St. John's College, Oxford, and afterwards removed to Cambridge. He successively became an English divine, a Popish schoolmaster, and a deservedly celebrated writer of plays (of which he published 39) from 1629 to 1660. He died in 1666 immediately after the great fire of London, and was interred in the same grave with his second wife, who died the same day, and was supposed, as well as Shirley, to have owed her death to the fright occasioned by that calamity. Besides his plays he published a volume of poems, 1646.

UPON HIS MISTRESS SAD.

MELANCHOLY hence! and get

Some piece of earth to be thy seat.
Here, the air and nimble fire
Would shoot up to meet desire:
Sullen humour leave her blood,
Mix not with the purer flood,
But let pleasures swelling here
Make a spring-tide all the year.

Love! a thousand sweets distilling,

And with pleasure bosoms filling,

Charm all

eyes, that none may

find us,

Be above, before, behind us!
And, while we thy raptures taste,
Compel time himself to stay;
Or by his fore-lock hold him fast,
Lest occasion slip away.

THE GARDEN.

THIS garden does not take my eyes, Though here you show how art of men

Can purchase nature at a price,

Would stock old Paradise again.

These glories while you dote upon,
I envy not your spring, nor pride.
Nay, boast the summer all your own :
My thoughts with less are satisfied.

Give me a little plot of ground,

Where, might I with the sun agree,