Ben Jonson,

Ben Jonson.

Ungern versage ich meinen Lefern und mir das Vers gnügen, hier eine Reihe alter englischer und schottischer Lieder herzusehen; aber die Kürze nöthigt mich, sie auf Ramsay's, Percy's und andre, im Lehrbuche angeführte, Sammlungen zu verweisen. Nur ein paar zur Probe; und unter diesen verdient folgendes treffliche, so ganz anakreontische Lied des bekannten dramatischen Dichters Ben Jonson (geb. 1574, gest. 1637;) die erste Stelle.

SONG.
s o

Drink to me only with thine eyes,

And I will pledge with mine;
Or leave a kifs but in the cup,
And I'll not look for wine:
The thirst that from the foul does rife,
Does afk a drink divine;

But might I of Jove's nectar fup,
I would not change for thine,

I fent thee late a roly wreath,
Not fo much honouring thee,
As giving it a chance that there
It could not withered be.

But thou thereon didft only breathe,

And fent'ft it back to me;

Since when it grows and fmells, I fwear,
Not of itself, but thee.

Suck

Suckling.

Sir John Suckling, geb. 1613, gest. 1641, ein zu seiner Zeit sehr beliebter Poet, hat vornehmlich in seinen kleinern Liedern und Sonnetten viel Unmuth und natür liche Leichtigkeit. Am meisten zeichnet sich seine Ballade, Upon a Wedding (Poems; Lond. 1646. 8. p. 37.) aus; nur kann ich sie ihrer Långe und einiger zu niedrigen Ausdrücke wegen nicht wohl mittheilen. Von nachstehendem Liede findet man eine Nachahmung in Schiebeler's Gedichten, S. 152.

Suckling..

SONG.

Why fo pale and wan, fond lover,
Prithee, why fo pale?

Will, when looking well can't move her,

Looking ill prevail?

Prithee, why fo pale?

Why fo dull and mute, young finner,
Prithee, why fo mute?

Will, when fpeaking well can't win her,
Saying nothing do't?

Prithee, why fo mute?

Quit, quit for fhame; this will not move,
This cannot take her.

If of herfelf fhe will not love,

Nothing.can make her;

The Devil take her!

Cow=

D 5

Cowley.

Co w I e y.

Statt einiger Proben seiner anakreontischen Lieder, die sehr viele Schönheiten, und nichts von dem ihm sonst eignen Hange zu schwülstiger Verzierung haben, gebe ich hier lieber seine sogenannte Ballade, The Chronicle, die Dr. Johnson a compofition unrivalled and alone nennt. „So viel Heiterkeit der Phantasie, seßt er hinzu, so viel Leichtigkeit des Ausdrucks, so mannichfaltige Aehnlichkeit, solch eine Reihe von Bildern, und solch einen Tanz der Wörter, darf man bei keinem andern Dichter zu finden hoffen, als bei Cowley.“

THE CHRONICLE,

Margarita first poffefs'd,

If I remember well, my breaft,
Margarita first of all;

But when a while the wanton maid
With my restlefs heart had play'd,
Martha took the flying ball.

Martha foon did it refign
To the beauteous Catherine.
Beauteous Catherine gave place
(Though loath and angry the to part
With the poffetlion of my heart.)
To Elifa's conquering face.

Elifa till this hour might reign
Had the not evil counfels ta'en;
Fundamental laws fhe broke,
And still new favourites fhe chofe,
Till up in arms my paffions rofe,
And caft away her yoke.

Mary then and gentle Ann
Both to reign at once began,
Alternately they fway'd;

And

And fometimes Mary was the fair,

And fometimes Ann the crown did wear,

And fometimes Both I obey'd.

1

Another Mary then arofe,
And did rigorous laws impofe,
A mighty Tyrant fhe!
Long, alas! fhould I have been
Under that iron-fcepter'd queen,
Had not Rebecca fet me free.

When fair Rebecca fet me free,
'Twas then a golden time with me;
But foon those pleasures fled;
For the gracious Princefs died
In her Youth and Beauties pride,

And Iudith reigned in her stead.

One month, three days, and half an hour
Iudith held the fouv'reign power;

Wondrous beautiful her face,

But fo weak and fmall her wit,
That the to govern was unfit,
And fo Sufanna took her place

But when Ifabella came,
Arm'd with a refiftless flame,

And th' artillery of her eye,
Whilft fhe proudly march'd about,
Greater conquefts to find out,

She beat out Sufan by the bye.

But in her place I then obey'd
Black-ey'd Befs, her Viceroy - Maid,
To whom enfu'd a Vacancy.
Thousand worfe paffions then poflefs'd
The Interregnum of my breaft;
Blefs me for fuch an Anarchy!

Gentle Henriette than

And a new Mary next began

Then Ione, and Iane, and Andria,

Cowley.

And