The Happy Spirit.

Bright be the place of thy soul:
No lovelier spirit than thine
E'er burst from its mortal control
In the orbs of the blessed to shine.
On earth thou wert all but divine,
As thy soul shall immortally be;
And our sorrow may cease to repine
When we know that thy God is with thee.
Light be the turf of thy tomb;

May its verdure like emeralds be;
There should not be the shadow of gloom
In aught that reminds us of thee.
Young flowers and an evergreen tree
May spring from the spot of thy rest:

But nor cypress nor yew let us see,
For why should we mourn for the blest?

BYRON.

The Sleep of the Brave.

How sleep the brave, who sink to rest
By all their country's wishes blest?
When Spring, with dewy fingers cold,
Returns to deck their hallowed mould,
She there shall dress a sweeter sod
Than Fancy's feet have ever trod.
By fairy hands their knell is rung;
By forms unseen their dirge is sung;
There Honour comes, a pilgrim gray,
To bless the turf that wraps their clay;
And Freedom shall awhile repair,
To dwell a weeping hermit there.

COLLINS.

Evexit ad aethera virtus.

Sit sine nocte dies qvocumqve vagatur in orbe
Mens tua, corporeo libera facta luto,
Mens tua qva numqvam mortalia vincula rupit
Pulcrior, aetheriis associanda choris.

Hospes erat terrae, modo non divina, parumper:
Nunc tua te divum sidera semper habent;
Nec nimiae deceat nos indulgere qverellae
Si vocet in gremium te Deus ipse suum.
Nobile gemmanti vernet tibi caespite bustum,
Et premat exiguo pondere terra caput:
Absint indigni feralia signa doloris ;

Non inter lacrimas fas meminisse tui.
Hunc florum sollemnis honor myrtusqve perennis
Rite sacret memori relligione locum;

Sit tamen atra procul taxus, tristisqve cupressi
Qvae male tam fausto convenit umbra rogo.

S. M.

Κείμεθα τοῖς πατρίοις ρήμασι πειθόμενοι.

Qualis fortibus est sopor,

Compostos reqvie qvos prece patria et

Votis proseqvitur bonis?

Ver udum gelidis sicubi roribus

Heroum rediens sacros

Ornabit tumulos, floribus induet

Primis qvale beatius

Planta Musa vaga non tetigit solum.

Illos, funereum decus,

Divina celebrat pulsa manu chelys ;

Illis aerii chori

Decantata sonat naenia vocibus:

Illic pullus adest Honor

Exstructum venerans advena caespitem;

Libertasqve piis humum

Sacrabit lacrimis, flebilis incola.

K.

To Doctor Empirick.

When men a dangerous disease did scape,
Of old, they gave a cock to Aesculape:
Let me give two; that doubly am got free,
From my disease's danger, and from thee.

The Gude-wife.

And are ye sure the news is true?
And are ye sure he's weel?
Is this a time to talk o' wark?
Ye jads, lay by your wheel.
Is this a time to talk o' wark
When Colin's at the door?
Gi'e me my cloak, I'll to the quay,
And see him come ashore.

For there's nae luck about the house,
There's nae luck ava,

There's little pleasure in the house,
When our gudeman's awa.

B.. JONSON.

Sae true's his word, sae smooth his speech,

His breath like caller air,

His very fit has music in't

As he comes up the stair.

And will I see his face again?

And will I hear him speak?

I'm downright dizzie with the thought,
In troth I'm like to greet.

A Character.

MICKLE.

As through the hedgerow shade the violet steals,
And the sweet air its modest leaf reveals,
Her softer charms, but by their influence known,
Surprise all hearts, and mould them to her own.

ROGERS.

Πῦρ καὶ θάλασσα.

Ut quis maligno convaluerat ex morbo,
Olim piabat Aesculapium gallo.

Faciam duobus ipse: facere bis verum est
Bis liberatum, medice, teqve morboqve.

R. S.

Unico gaudens mulier marito.

Η γὰρ ἴστε σῶν νιν ὄντα καὶ τόδ' ἀγγελθὲν σαφῶς, δμωίδες; τί δ ̓ οὐκ ἀφείθη κερκίς ; οὐχ ἱστῶν ἀκμή πῶς ὅδ ̓ ἦν ὁ καιρὸς ἔργων, εἴπερ ἐν πύλαις ἀνήρ; δεῦρό μοι τὸ φᾶρος οἴσετ ̓, εἶμι δ' ἐς νεώριον, ἔς τε γῆν ἐκβάντα πρώτη δεξιώσομαι πόσιν. οὐ γὰρ εὐτυχεῖ τὰ δώματ ̓ ἀνδρὸς ἐκδημοῦντος, οὔκο ὄμμα γὰρ δόμων νομίζω δεσπότου παρουσίαν. ἡδὺ μὲν ῥέουσαν αὐλὴν ἀσφαλὲς δ ̓ ἔχει στόμα καὶ τὸ πνεῦμ ̓ αὐρῶν ἐλαφρῶν ὥσπερ, εὐστομοῦσι δὲ καὶ πόδες στείχοντος αὐτοῦ δωμάτων προσαμβάσεις. ἡ γὰρ ἔσθ' ὅπως πρόσωπον αὖθις ὄψομαι φίλον, ἠδ ̓ ἀκούσομαι λέγοντος; οὐ γὰρ ἀλλ ̓ ὀλιγγιώ τοιάδ ̓ ἐννοοῦσα, καὶ δὴ δάκρυ ̓ οὐ σχήσειν δοκῶ.

Κ.

Nil conscire sibi.

Ut violae densa sese abscondentis in umbra
Aura tamen grato prodit odore comas,
Sic ea, dum veneres celat, tamen omnia corda
Surripiens molli vi necopina regit.

H. C. R.

The Vegetable Creation.

He scarce had said, when the bare earth, till then
Desert and bare, unsightly, unadorned,

Brought forth the tender grass, whose verdure clad
Her universal face with pleasant green;

Then herbs of every leaf, that sudden flowered
Opening their various colours, and made gay
Her bosom, smelling sweet: and, these scarce blown,
Forth flourished thick the clustering vine, forth crept
The swelling gourd, up stood the corny reed
Embattled in her field, and the humble shrub,
And bush with frizzled hair implicit last
Rose, as in dance, the stately trees, and spread
Their branches hung with copious fruit, or gemmed

Their blossoms: with high woods the fields were crowned,
With tufts the valleys, and each fountain-side,

With borders long the rivers: that earth now

Seemed like to heaven, a seat where gods might dwell,

Or wander with delight, and love to haunt

Her sacred shades: though God had yet not rained
Upon the earth, and man to till the ground
None was; but from the earth a dewy mist
Went up, and watered all the ground, and each
Plant of the field.

Song of the Dying Maiden.

Lay a garland on my hearse,
Of the dismal yew;

Maidens, willow branches bear;

Say I died true.

My love was false, but I was firm
From my hour of birth.

Upon my buried body lie
Lightly, gentle earth.

MILTON.

FLETCHER.