And with the thought of actions past
Are recreated ftill:

When pleasure leaves a touch at last
To fhew that it was ill.

SYREN.

That doth opinion only cause,
That's out of custom bred;

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But yet the ftate of things require

These motions of unreft;

And these great spirits of high defire

Seeme borne to turn them beft:

To purge the mifchiefes, that increase

And all good order marr :

For oft we see a wicked peace,

To be well chang'd for war.

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SYREN.

This beautiful poem, which possesses a claffical elegance hardly to be expected in the age of James I, is printed from the 4th edition of Davifon's poems*, &c. 1621. It is also found in a later mifcellany, intitled, "Le Prince d'amour. 1660. 8vo.-Francis Davifon, editor of the poems above referred to, was fon of that unfortunate fecretary of flate, who fuffered fo much from the affair of Mary 2. of Scots. These poems, he tells us in his preface, were written by himself, by his brother [Walter], who was a foldier in the wars of the Low Countries, and by fome dear friends anonymoi." Among them are found pieces by Sir J. Davis, the countess of Pembroke, Sir Philip Sidney, Spenfer, and other wits of thofe times.

See the full title in vol. 2. p. 289.

In the fourth vol. of Dryden's Mifcellanies, this poem is attributed to Sydney Godolphin, Efq; but erroneously, being probably written before he was born. One edit. of Davi Jon's book was published in 1608. Godolphin was born in 1610, and died in 1642-3. Ath. Ox. II. 23.

"T chanc'd of late a shepherd swain,

I that went to feel his straying theep.

Within a thicket on a plain
Efpied a dainty nymph asleep.

Her golden hair o'erfpred her face;
Her careless arms abroad were caft;
Her quiver had her pillows place ;
Her breast lay bare to every blast.

The shepherd stood and gaz'd his fill;

Nought durft he do`; nought durft he say;

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Whilst chance, or elfe perhaps his will,
Did guide the god of love that way.

The crafty boy thus fees her fleep,

Whom if the wak't he durft not fee;

Behind her closely feeks to creep,

Before her nap should ended bee.

There come, he steals her fhafts away,
And puts his own into their place;

Nor dares he any longer stay,

But, ere he wakes, hies thence apace.

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Scarce was he

gone, but the awakes,

And fpies the fhepherd standing by: Her bended bow in hafte she takes, And at the fimple fwain lets flye.

Forth flew the shaft, and pierc't his heart,
That to the ground he fell with pain :
Yet up again forthwith he start,

And to the nymph he ran amain.

Amazed to fee fo ftrange a fight,

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She shot, and fhot, but all in vain ;

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The more his wounds, the more his might,
Love yielded ftrength amidst his pain.

Her angry eyes were great with tears,

She blames her hand, she blames her skill;

The bluntnefs of her fhafts fhe fears,

And try them on herself fhe will.

Take heed, fweet nymph, trye not thy fhaft,
Each little touch will pierce thy heart:
Alas! thou know'ft not Cupids craft;
Revenge is joy; the end is fmart.

Yet try fhe will, and pierce fome bare;
Her hands, were glov'd, but next to hand
Was that fair breast, that breast so rare,
That made the fhepherd fenfelefs ftand.

U 4

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That

That breaft fhe pierc't; and through that breaft 45

Love found an entry to her heart ;

At feeling of this new-come guest,

Lord! how this gentle nymph did start ?

She runs not now; fhe fhoots no more;

Away fhe throws both shaft and bow':

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She feeks for what she shun'd before,

She thinks the fhepherds hafte too flow.

Though mountains meet not, lovers may;
What other lovers do, did they :

The god of love fate on a tree,

And laught that pleasant fight to see.

XII.

THE CHARACTER OF A HAPPY LIFE.

This little moral poem is printed at the end of Sir Thomas Overbury's "Wife, &c. Lond. 1638." It is also found in the volume, intitled, "Le prince d'amour. 1660." and in a small collection of MS poems, 4to. in the editor's poffeffion. It is faid to be written " by Sir H. W" probably Sir HENRY WOTTON, who died provost of Eaton, in 1639. Et. 72.

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