SUCKLING, WALLER, AND CAREW. There are but few instances in English poetry, where playfulness and sublimity, each in an eminent degree, are combined. The most sublime poet is the least sportive and playful of all: Shakspeare is the exception, he exhibits both, and affords an instance of "wit and judgment," combined. Suckling, Waller, Carew and Butler, head the class of sportive poets: they are the most sprightly and graceful; they have the most playful fancy and the most sparkling wit; the most sportive gayety and jovial humor; the highest elegance connected with the most perfect ease; they have the keenest sense of the ludicrous, with the finest perception of the true and beautiful; in a word, they are the most witty, the most sportive, sparkling and polished writers, excepting Prior, and Swift, in the English language. Their humor is the most gay and variable; their wit cuts and sparkles like diamonds: and possessing the finest delicacies of style, and the greatest ease of versification, they are the most piquant and attractive of poets. The songs and ballads of Suckling are inimitable for grace and sportive gayety; "they have a pretty touch of a gentle spirit, and seem to savor more of the grape than the lamp." His soul is all joyous melody, and he invests every thing be describes with life and playfulness; as in his ballad on a Wedding, where he says of the bride: Her feet beneath her petticoat, As if they feared the light: But, oh! she dances such a way! Is half so fine a sight. "It is very daring, and has a sort of playful grandeur," says Mr. Hunt, with reference to this passage, "to compare a lady's dancing with the sun. But as the sun has it all to himself in the heavens, so she, in the blaze of her beauty, on earth. This is imagination fairly displaying fancy." "The following has," he continues, "enchanted every body: Her lips were red, and one was thin, Every reader has stolen a kiss at that lip, gay or grave." Never believe me if I love, Or know what 'tis, or mean to prove ; And yet in faith I lie, I do And she's extremely handsome too; But I care not who knows it, E'er I'll die for love, I fairly will forego it. My foolish heart could never bear: Than earthquakes have done heretofore: When I am hungry I do eat, And cut no fingers 'stead of meat; A gentle round, filled to the brink, Blackfriars to me, and old Whitehall, I visit, talk, do business, play, And for a need laugh out a day: He makes not love, but plays the fool: But I care not who knows it; E'er I'll die for love, I fairly will forego it. SONG. Honest lover whosoever, If in all thy love there ever Was one wavering thought, if thy flame Were not still even, still the same; Know this, Thou lov'st amiss, And, to love true, Thou must begin again, and love anew. If, when she appears i' the room, Thou dost not quake, and art struck dumb, Dost not speak thy words twice over; Thou lov'st amiss, And, to love true, Thou must begin again, and love anew. If fondly thou dost not mistake, And all defects for graces take; Persuad'st thyself that jests are broken, Thou lov'st amiss, And, to love true, Thou must begin again, and love anew. If, when thou appear'st to be within, Thou lett'st not men ask, and ask again, And when thou answerest, if it be To what was asked thee properly; Know this, Thou lov'st amiss, And, to love true, Thou must begin again, and love anew. If, when thy stomach calls to eat, And, with much gazing on her face, Thou lov'st amiss, And, to love true, Thou must begin again, and love anew. If by this, thou dost discover, That thou art no perfect lover; And desiring to love true, Thou dost begin to love anew; Know this, Thou lov'st amiss, And, to love true, Thou must begin again, and love anew. SONG. Why so pale and wan, fond lover! Will, when looking well can't move her, Prithee, why so pale? Why so dull and mute, young sinner! Prithee, why so mute? Will, when speaking well can't win her, Prithee, why so mute? Quit, quit for shame! this will not move, This cannot take her: If of herself she will not love, Edmund Waller acknowledged Fairfax to be his model, and like him, he excelled in the elegance and smoothness of his verse. The art of modulation, which was attained in the age of Elizabeth, was neglected in his age: he was superior, in this respect, to most of the writers of his times, and he "added something to our elegance of diction, and something to our property of thought." Poetry was a recreation to |