Tempt me with such affrights no more,
Lest what I made I uncreate!

Let fools thy mystic forms adore ;

I'll know thee in thy mortal state. Wise poets that wrapp'd Truth in tales, Knew her themselves through all her veils.

CONQUEST BY FLIGHT.

LADIES, fly from Love's smooth tale!
Oaths steep'd in tears do oft prevail;
Grief is infectious, and the air
Inflam'd with sighs will blast the fair!
Then stop your ears when lovers cry,
Lest yourself weep, when no soft eye
Shall with a sorrowing tear repay
That pity which you cast away.

Young men, fly, when Beauty darts
Amorous glances at your hearts!
The fixed mark gives the shooter aim,
And ladies' looks have power to maim;
Now 'twixt their lips, now in their eyes,
Wrapp'd in a smile, or kiss, Love lies.-
Then fly betimes; for only they
Conquer Love that run away.

THE EDDY.

MARK how yon eddy steals away
From the rude stream into the bay;
There, locked up safe, she doth divorce
Her waters from the channel's course,
And scorns the torrent that did bring
Her head-long from her native spring.
Now doth she with her new love play,
Whilst he runs murmuring away.

Mark how she courts the banks, whilst they
As amorously their arms display

T'embrace and clip her silver waves.

See how she strokes their sides, and craves An entrance there, which they deny ; Whereat she frowns, threat'ning to fly Home to her stream, and 'gins to swim Backward, but from the channel's brim Smiling returns into the creek,

With thousand dimples on her cheek.

Be thou this eddy, and I'll make My breast thy shore, where thou shalt take Secure repose, and never dream Of the quite forsaken stream.

Let him to wide ocean haste,

There lose his colour, name, and taste:
Thou shalt save all, and, safe from him,
Within these arms for ever swim.

THE PRIMROSE.

Ask me why I send you here

This firstling of the infant year;
Ask me why I send to you

This primrose all bepearl'd with dew;
I straight will whisper in your ears,
The sweets of love are wash'd with tears:
Ask me why this flow'r doth show

So yellow, green, and sickly too;
Ask me why the stalk is weak,
And bending, yet it doth not break ;
I must tell you, these discover

What doubts and fears are in a lover.

WILLIAM HERBERT,

EARL OF PEMBROKE,

Born about 1580, died 1630.

The following specimens of the Earl of Pembroke's love verses are transcribed from a volume entitled, "Poems written by the Right Honourable William Earl of Pembroke, Lord Steward of his Majesties Household. Whereof many were answered, by way of Repartee, by Sir Benjamin Ruddier, Knight." The volume is an octavo, of 118 pages, printed at London, 1660, by Matthew Inman, and sold by James Magnes. There is prefixed to it a dedicatory epistle to Christiana Countess of Devonshire, subscribed “John Donne.” In

a short address to the reader, it is stated that some of the pieces were set to music by Mr. Henry Laws, and that some two or three copies of verses (inserted as the Earl of Herbert's) were to be suspected as spurious. The latter part of this notice was certainly necessary; for in the collection" The Silent Lover," generally admitted to be Raleigh's, and "The Eddy," with two or three more pieces by Carew, are printed as the Earl of Pembroke's.

LOVE IN THE COUNTRY.

DEAR, leave thy home and come with me,
That scorn the world for love of thee;
Here we will live, within this park,

A court of joy and pleasure's ark.

Here we will hunt, here we will range;
Constant in love, our sports we'll change:
Of hearts, if any change we make,

I will have thine, thou mine shalt take.

Here we will walk upon the lawns,
And see the tripping of the fawns;
And all the deer shall wait on thee,-
Thou shalt command both them and me.

The leaves a whisp'ring noise shall make,
Their musick-notes the birds shall wake;
And while thou art in quiet sleep,

Through the green wood shall silence keep.

And while my herds about thee feed,
Love's lessons in thy face I'll read,
And feed upon thy lovely look,

For beauty hath no fairer book.

It's not the weather, nor the air,

It is thy self, that is so fair;

Nor doth it rain when heaven lowers,

But when you frown, then fall the showers.

One sun alone moves in the sky,—
Two suns thou hast, one in each eye;
Only by day that sun gives light,—
Where thine doth rise there is no night.

Fair starry twins, scorn not to shine
Upon my lambs, upon my kine;
My grass doth grow, my corn and wheat,
My fruit, my vines, thrive by their heat.

Thou shalt have wool, thou shalt have silk, Thou shalt have honey, wine, and milk; Thou shalt have all, for all is due

Where thoughts are free and love is true.