Go, sun-burnt Thestilis, goe and repaire
The beautie lost, and be againe made faire.
Love-sick Aminsas, get a philtrum here,
To make thee lovely to thy truly deere:
But, coy Sycoris, take the pearle from thine,
And take the blood-shot from Palaemon's eyne;
Wear this an amulet 'gainst all syrens' smiles,
The sting of snakes, and tears of crocodiles.
Now Loue is dead;-oh! no, He neuer dies;
Three days He sleepes, and then againe doth rise,
(Like fair Aurora from the easterne bay),
And with his beames driues all our clouds away.
This pipe vnto our flocks, this sonnet get:
But, loa! I see the sun ready to set.

Good night to all; for the great night is come:
Flocks, to your foldes, and, shepherds, hye ye home.
To-morrow morning, when we all haue slept,
Pan's cornets blowes, and the great sheepshear's
kept.

EDMOND GRAILE.

JACOB GOING DOWN INTO EGYPT.

OLD Iaacob, and his sons also,
Were pinch'd with penurie,
Wherefore hee charged them to goe
And food in Egypt buy.

They went with griefe, and bought in feare,
Not dreaming of their brother;
Nor did he countenance them beare
More kind then any other:

Till when they came to him againe,

Affection was so great,

He could no longer it containe
Within his breast for heate.

With weeping eye and joyfull tongue
Hee then did plainely tell
Hee was their brother Ioseph, whom
To Egypt they did sell.

The joy of either was so much

That neither now could beare it;
Their sobbing passion was such
That Pharaoh's house did heare it;

Who, understanding what they were,
Commanded presently,

With charets, horse, and furniture,
For Iaacob they should hie.

So hee, with all his family,
Came thither out of hand,
And, welcomed most louingly,
Were plac'd in Goshen land.
In Goshen land did Iaacob see
The fulnesse of his dayes,
And in his sonne's prosperitie
His fill of earthly ioyes:

But solemnly before his death

Hee blest his sonnes each one;
And Joseph eke gaue vp the breath
Ere many yeeres were gone.

Now when these fathers both were dead,
And still their seed did grow,
There rose a Pharaoh in his stead,
That did not Ioseph know.

Hee, tyrant-like, with heavy hand
Of bondage prest them downe,
And gaue the midwiues strait command
The males to kill or drowne.

WILLIAM DRUMMOND.

AN HYMN OF TRUE HAPPINESS.

AMIDST the azure cleare

Of Jordan's sacred streames,
Jordan, of Libanon the offspring deare,
When zephires flowres vnclose,

And sunne shines with new beames,
With graue and statelie grace a nymphe arose.
Vpon her head shee ware

Of amaranthes a crowne;

Her left hand palmes, her right a brandon1 beare. Vnvail❜d skinne's whitenesse lay,

Gold haires in curles hang downe,

Eyes sparkled ioy, more bright than starre of day. The flood a throne her rear'd

Of waues, most like that heauen

Where beaming starres in glorie turne ensphear'd : The air stood calme and cleare,

No sigh by windes was giuen;

Birdes left to sing, heards feed, her voice to heare. "World-wand'ring sorrie wights,

Whom no thing can content,

Within these varying lists of dayes and nights
Whose life, ere known amisse,
In glittering griefes is spent,

Come learne," said shee, "what is

your choicest

blisse;

1 Torch.

"From toyle and pressing cares
How ye may respit finde,

A sanctuarie from soule-thralling snares,
A port to harboure sure,

In spite of waues and winde,

Which shall, when times' houre-glass is runne, endure.

"Not happie is that life
Which yee as happie hold:

No; but a sea of feares, a field of strife,
Charg'd on a throne to sit,

With diademes of gold,

Preseru'd by force, and still obseru'd by wit.

"Huge treasures to enjoy,

Of all her gemmes spoyle Inde,
All Seres' silke in garments to imploy,
Deliciouslie to feed,

The phoenix' plumes to finde
To rest vpon, or decke your purple bed;

"Fraile beautie to abuse,

And, wanton Sybarites,

On past or present touch of sense to muse;
Neuer to hear of noise

But what the ear delites,

Sweet musick's charmes, or charming flatterer's voice.

"Nor can it blisse you bring,
Hidde nature's depthes to know,

Why matter changeth, whence each forme doth spring;

Nor that your fame should range,

And after-worlds it blow

From Tanais to Nile, from Nile to Gange.