After this thy travel fore And fome flowers, and fome bays, Sent thee from the banks of Came, Devoted to thy virtuous name; 28. Atropes for Lucina came;] One 50 55 60 Whilft 49. After this thy travel fore] An of the Fates inftead of the Goddefs fhe died in child-bed. who brings the birth to light. 63. The Whilft thou, bright Saint, high fitft in glory, Who after years of barrenness, The highly favor'd Jofeph bore To him that ferv'd for her before, And at her next birth much like thee, Far within the bofom bright 65 Of blazing Majesty and Light: 70 There with thee, new welcome Saint, Like fortunes may her foul acquaint, * SONG. IX. On MAY MORNING. OW the bright morning ftar, day's harbinger, 63. That fair Syrian Shepherdess, &c] Rachel, the daughter of Laban the Syrian, kept. her father's fheep. Gen. XXIX. 9. and after her firft fon, Jofeph, died in childbed of her fecond fon, Benjamin, XXXV. 18. *This beautiful little Song has within thefe few years been fet to mufic by Mr. Feftin, and performed at Ranelagh gardens. 3. who from her green lap throws &c] This image feems to be borrow'd from Shakespear. Richard II. A&t 5. Sc. 4. who are the violets now That The flow'ry May, who from her green lap throws W X. +On SHAKESPEAR. 1630. 5 ΤΟ Hat needs my Shakespear for his honor'd bones Or that his hallow'd reliques should be hid Dear fon of memory, great heir of fame, What need'ft thou fuch weak witness of thy name? Thou in our wonder and astonishment Haft built thyself a live-long monument. That ftrow the green lap of the new-come fpring? + This copy of verfes on Shakefpear being made in 1630, our poet was then in the 22d year of his age and it was printed with the poems of that author at London in $640. 5 For 5. Dear fon of memory,] He honors his favorite Shakespear with the fame relation as the Mufes themfelves. For the Mufes are called by the old poets the daughters of memory. See Hefiod Theog. ver. 53. 15. And For whilft to th' fhame of flow-endevoring art XI. ΙΟ 15 * On the University Carrier, who ficken'd in the time of his vacancy, being forbid to go to London, by reafon of the plague. H' ERE lies old Hobfon; Death hath broke his girt, And here alas, hath laid him in the dirt, Or elfe the ways being foul, twenty to one, And thinking now his journey's end was come, his latest inn, In the kind office of a chamberlin 10 14 Show'd him his room where he muft lodge that night, Pull'd off his boots, and took away H the light: any afk for him, it shall be faid, Hobfon has fupt, and's newly gone to bed. |