blage of general than individual qualities, and of the mind than the person. There is however, occasionally, a fullness and depth of colouring, which shews that he sometimes thought intensely.

We shall commence our extracts by the description of Rhodalind, whom, as the heroine of the poem, it would be unpardonable to omit, though we shall produce others which are more to our mind-it is, however, well worth quoting.

"Her father's prosp'rous palace was the sphear,
Where she to all with heav'nly order mov'd;

Made rigid virtue so benign appear,

That 'twas without Religion's help belov'd.

Her looks, like empire shew'd, great above pride,
Since pride ill counterfeits excessive height;
But Nature publish'd what she fain would hide,
Who, for her deeds, not beautie, lov'd the light.

To make her lowly mind's appearance less,

She us'd some outward greatness for disguise;
Esteem'd as pride the cloist'ral lowliness,

And thought them proud who even the proud despise.

Her father (in the winter of his age)

Was, like that stormie season, froward grown,
Whom so her spring's fresh presence did asswage,
That he, her sweetness tasted as his own.

The pow'r that with his stooping age declin'd,
In her transplanted, by remove increas'd;
Which doubly back in homage she resign'd,

"Till power's decay, the throne's worst sickness, ceas'd.
Oppressors, big with pride, when she appear'd,
Blush'd, and believ'd their greatness counterfeit ;
The lowly thought, they them in vain had fear'd;
Found virtue harmless, and nought else so great.

Her mind (scarce to her feeble sex of kin)

Did as her birth, her right to empire show;
Seem'd careless outward when imploy'd within,
Her speech, like lovers watch'd, was kind and low.
She shew'd that her soft sex contains strong minds,
Such as evap'rates through the coarser male,
As through coarse stone elixar passage finds,
Which scarce through finer christal can exhale.

Her beautie (not her own but Nature's pride)
Should I describe, from every lover's eye
All beauties, this original must hide,

Or, like scorn'd copies, be themselves laid by;

Be by their poets shunn'd, whom beautie feeds,

Who, beautie like, hyr'd witnesses protect,
Officiously averring more than needs,

And make us so the needfull truth suspect.

And since fond lovers (who disciples be

To poets) think in their own loves they find
More beautie than yet Time did ever see,

Time's curtain I will draw o'er Rhodalind."

The two rivals, Gondibert and Oswald, are depicted and contrasted with great spirit and discrimination.

"In court, Prince Oswald costly was and gay,
Finer than near vain kings their fav'rites are;
Out-shin'd bright fav'rites on their nuptial day,
Yet were his eyes dark with ambitious care.

Duke Gondibert was still more gravely clad,
But yet his looks familiar were and clear;
As if with ill to others never sad,

Nor tow'rds himself could others practise fear.

The prince could, porpoise-like, in tempests play,

And in court-storms on ship-wrack'd greatness feed;

Not frighted with their fate when cast away,
But to their glorious hazzards durst succeed.

The duke would lasting calms to courts assure,
As pleasant gardens we defend from winds;
For he who bus'ness would from storms procure,
Soon his affairs above his manage finds.

Oswald in throngs the abject people sought

With humble looks; who still too late will know
They are Ambition's quarrie, and soon caught
When the aspiring eagle stoops so low.

The duke did these by stedie virtue gain,

Which they in action more than precept tast;
Deeds shew the good, and those who goodness feign
By such even through their vizards are out-fac't.

Oswald in war was worthily renown'd,

Though gay in courts, coarsly in camps could live;
Judg'd danger soon, and first was in it found,

Could toil to gain what he with ease did give.
Yet toils and dangers through ambition lov'd,
Which does in war the name of virtue own;
But quits that name, when from the war remov'd,
As rivers theirs when from their channels gon.
The duke (as restless as his fame in war)

With martial toil could Oswald wearie make;
And calmly do what he with rage did dare,

And give so much as he might deign to take.

Him, as their founder, cities did adore,

The court he knew to steer in storms of state;

In field, a battel lost he could restore,

And after force the victors to their fate."

The following stanza is very beautiful.-Gondibert guessed not, that for his love, fair Rhodalind

Yet sadly it is sung, that she in shades,
Mildly as mourning doves love's sorrows felt;
Whilst in her secret tears her freshness fades,
As roses silently in lymbecks melt."

The character of Oswald's sister is powerful.

"Gartha, whose bolder beauty was in strength
And fulness plac'd, but such as all must like;
Her spreading stature talness was, not length,
And whilst sharp beauties pierce, hers seem'd to strike.

Such was the palace of her mind, a prince
Who proudly there, and still unquiet lives;
And sleep (domestick ev'ry where) from thence,
To make ambition room, unwisely drives.

Of manly force was this her watchfull mind,
And fit in empire to direct and sway,

If she the temper had of Rhodalind,

Who knew that gold is currant with allay.”

Gondibert's army is described with uncommon nerve and vigour of expression.

"Temp'rate in what does needy life preserve,

As those whose bodies wait upon their minds;
Chaste as those minds which not their bodies serve,
Ready as pilots wak'd with sudden winds.

Speechless in diligence, as if they were
Nightly to close surprize and ambush bred;
Their wounds yet smarting, mercifull they are,
And soon from victory to pitie led.

When a great captive they in fight had ta'ne,
(Whom in a filial duty some fair maid
Visits, and would by tears his freedom gain)
How soon his victors were his captives made?

For though the duke taught rigid discipline,
He let them beauty thus at distance know;
As priests discover some especial shrine,
Which none must touch, yet all may to it bow.

When thus as suitors mourning virgins pass

Through their clean camp, themselves in form they draw,
That they, with martial reverence, may grace
Beauty, the stranger, which they seldom saw.

They vayl'd their ensigns as it by did move,
Whilst inward (as from native conscience) all
Worship'd the poet's darling godhead, Love,
Which grave philosophers did nature call.

This rev'rend army was for age renown'd,

Which long, through frequent dangers, follow'd time,
Their many trophies gain'd with many a wound,
And fame's last hill did with first vigour climb."

These characters are in a similar style.

"And here was Hugo, whom Duke Gondibert
For stout and stedfast kindness did approve;

Of stature small, but was all over heart,
And though unhappy, all that heart was love.

In gentle sonnets he for Laura pin'd,

Soft as the murmures of a weeping spring; Which, ruthless, she did as those murmures mind: So ere their death sick swans unheeded sing.

Young Goltho next these rivals we may name,
Whose manhood dawn'd early as summer light;
As sure and soon did his fair day proclaim,
And was no less the joy of publick sight.

If Love's just pow'r he did not early see,
Some small excuse we may his errour give;
Since few (though learn'd) know yet blest love to be
That secret vital heat by which we live :

But such it is; and though we may be thought.
To have in childhood life, ere love we know,
Yet life is useless, till by reason taught,

And love and reason up together grow.

Nor more the old shew they out-live their love,
If, when their love's decay'd, some signs they give
Of life, because we see them pain'd and move,
Than snakes, long cut, by torment shew they live.
If we call living, life, when love is gone,

We then to souls (God's coyn) vain rev'rence pay;
Since reason (which is love, and his best known
And currant image) age has worn away.

And I, that love and reason thus unite,
May, if I old philosophers controul,
Confirm the new by some new poet's light;

Who, finding love, thinks he has found the soul.

The next, bold but unlucky Hubert led,

Brother to Oswald, and no less ally'd
To the ambitions which his soul did wed:
Lowly without, but lin'd with costly pride.
Most to himself his valour fatal was,

Whose glories oft to others dreadfull were;
So commets (though suppos'd destruction's cause)
But waste themselves to make their gazers fear.

And though his valour seldom did succeed,

His speech was such as could in storms perswade; Sweet as the hopes on which starv'd lovers feed,

Breath'd in the whispers of a yielding maid."

Tybalt is described thus.

"Publick his valour was, but not his love,

One fill'd the world, the other he contain'd; Yet quietly alike in both did move,

Of that ne'r boasted, nor of this complain'd."