THE TRIUMPH OF CHARIS

See the chariot at hand here of Love, Wherein my lady rideth!

Each that draws is a swan or a dove, And well the car Love guideth.

As she goes, all hearts do duty

Unto her beauty; And enamored, do wish, so they might But enjoy such a sight,

Or crafty malice might pretend this praise, And think to ruin, where it seemed to raise.

These are, as some infamous bawd or whore

Should praise a matron. What could hurt her more?

Above the ill fortune of them, or the need.
I therefore will begin. Soul of the age,
The applause, delight, the wonder of our
stage,

My Shakespeare, rise! I will not lodge thee by

Chaucer, or Spenser, or bid Beaumont lie 20
A little further, to make thee a room:
Thou art a monument without a tomb,
And art alive still while thy book doth
live,

And we have wits to read and praise to give.

That I not mix thee so my brain excusesI mean with great, but disproportioned Muses;

26

For if I thought my judgment were of years,

I should commit thee surely with thy

peers,

And tell how far thou didst our Lyly outshine,

Have you seen but a bright lily grow,
Before rude hands have touched it?
Have you marked but the fall o' the snow
Before the soil hath smutched it?
Have you felt the wool o' the beaver?
Or swan's down ever?
Or have smelt o' the bud o' the briar?
Or the nard1 i' the fire?
Or have tasted the bag of the bee?
O so white, O so soft, O so sweet is she!

30

TO THE MEMORY OF MY BELOVED, MASTER WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE

From thence to honor thee, I would not seek

To draw no envy, Shakespeare, on thy

name,

30

Or sporting Kyd, or Marlowe's mighty line. And though thou hadst small Latin and less Greek,

Triumph, my Britain, thou hast one to show

46

To whom all scenes of Europe homage owe.
He was not of an age, but for all time!
And all the Muses still were in their prime,
When, like Apollo, he came forth to warm
Our ears, or like a Mercury to charm.
Nature herself was proud of his designs
And joyed to wear the dressing of his lines,
Which were so richly spun, and woven so fit,
As, since, she will vouchsafe no other wit:
The merry Greek, tart Aristophanes,
Neat Terence, witty Plautus, now not
please,

51

In each of which he seems to shake a lance,
As brandished at the eyes of ignorance. 70
Sweet Swan of Avon! what a sight it were
To see thee in our waters yet appear,
And make those flights upon the banks of

So, by error, to his fate

Thames,

They all consented, But viewing him since, alas, too late!

They have repented; And have sought, to give new birth, In baths to steep him; But being so much too good for earth, Heaven vows to keep him.

JOHN DONNE (1573-1631)

20

GO AND CATCH A FALLING STAR

Go and catch a falling star,

Get with child a mandrake root, Tell me where all past years are, Or who cleft the Devil's foot;

light.

HARK, NOW EVERYTHING IS STILL

5

Hark, now everything is still,
The screech-owl and the whistler2 shrill,
Call upon our dame aloud,
And bid her quickly don her shroud.
Much you had of land and rent, -
Your length in clay's now competent;
A long war disturbed your mind,-
Here your perfect peace is signed.
Of what is't fools make such vain keeping?
Sin their conception, their birth weeping, 10
Their life a general mist of error,
Their death a hideous storm of terror.
Strew your hair with powders sweet,
Don clean linen, bathe your feet,
And the foul fiend more to check一
A crucifix let bless your neck.
'Tis now full tide 'tween night and day;
End your groan, and come away.

WILLIAM BROWNE (1591-1643?)

15

ON THE COUNTESS DOWAGER OF PEMBROKE

Underneath this sable herse3
Lies the subject of all verse:
Sidney's sister, Pembroke's mother:
Death, ere thou hast slain another
Fair and learn'd and good as she,
Time shall throw a dart at thee.

ELIZABETHAN PROSE

SIR THOMAS NORTH (15357-1601?)

THE DEATH OF CÆSAR

From THE LIFE OF JULIUS CÆSAR

The Romans inclining to Cæsar's prosperity, and taking the bit in the mouth, supposing that to be ruled by one man alone, it would be a good mean for them to take breath a little, after so many troubles and miseries as they had abidden in these civil wars, they chose him perpetual Dictator. This was a plain tyranny: for to this absolute power of Dictator they added this, never to be [10 afraid to be deposed. Cicero propounded before the Senate that they should give