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ON NEERA.

My wreck of mind, and all my woes,
And all my ills, that day arose,

When on the fair Neæra's eyes,
Like stars that shine,

At first, with hapless fond surprise,
I gazed with mine.

When my glance met her searching glance,
A shivering o'er my body burst,
As light leaves in the green woods dance
When western breezes stir them first;
My heart forth from my breast to go,
And mine with hers already wanting,
Now beat, now trembled, to and fro,
With eager fondness leaping, panting.
Just as a boy, whose nourice woos him,
Folding his young limbs in her bosom,
Heeds not caresses from another
But turns his eyes still to his mother,
When she may once regard him watches,
And forth his little fond arms stretches.
Just as a bird within the nest

That can not fly, yet constant trying,
Its weak wings on its tender breast
Beats with the vain desire of flying.

Thou, wary mind, thyself preparing
To live at peace, from all ensnaring,
That thou might'st never mischief catch,
Plac'd'st you, unhappy eyes, to watch
With vigilance that knew no rest,
Beside the gateways of the breast.

But you, induc'd by dalliance deep,
Or guile, or overcome by sleep;
Or else have of your own accord
Consented to betray your lord;

Both heart and soul then fled and left

Me spiritless, of mind bereft.

Then cease to weep; use is there none

To think by weeping to atone;

Since heart and spirit from me fled,
You move not by the tears you shed;

But go to her, entreat, obtain;

If you do not entreat, and gain,
Then will I ever make you gaze
Upon her, till in dark amaze

You sightless in your sockets roll,

Extinguish'd by her eyes' bright blaze,

As I have been depriv'd of heart and soul.

In 1584, two years after Buchanan's death, JAMES THE SIXTH himself ventured into the magic circle of poetry, and published a volume entitled Es

says of a Prentice in the Divine art of Poesie. The young king's verses, considering that he was not yet eighteen years of age, are certainly very creditable to him; and we shall therefore quote, in the original spelling, the following poem from the volume alluded to:

ANE SCHORT POEME OF TYME.

As I was pausing in a morning aire,
And could not sleip nor nawyis take me rest,
Furth for to walk, the morning was so faire,
Athort the fields, it seemed to me the best.
The East was cleare, whereby belyve I gest
That fyrier Titan cumming was in sight,
Obscuring chaste Diana by his light.

Who by his rising in the azure skyes,

Did dewlie helse all thame on earth do dwell.
The balmie dew through birning drouth he dryis,
Which made the soile to savour sweit and smell,
By dew that on the night before downe fell,
Which then was soukit up by the Delphienus heit
Up in the aire: it was so light and weit.

Whose hie ascending in his purpour chere

Provokit all from Morpheus to flee:

As beasts to feid, and birds to sing with beir,
Men to their labour, bissie as the bee:
Yet idle men devysing did I see,

How for to drive the tyme that did them irk,
By sindrie pastymes, quhile that it grew mirk.

Then woundred I to see them seik a wyle,
So willingly the precious tyme to tine:
And how they did themselfis so farr begyle,
To fushe of tyme, which of itself is fyne.
Fra tyme be past to call it backwart syne
Is bot in vaine: therefore men sould be warr,
To sleuth the tyme that flees fra them so farr.

For what hath man bot tyme into this lyfe,
Which gives him dayis his God aright to know?
Wherefore then sould we be at sic a stryfe,

So spedelie our selfis for to withdraw
Evin from the tyme, which is on nowayes slaw
To flie from us, suppose we fled it noght?
More wyse we were, if we the tyme had soght.

But sen that tyme is sic a precious thing,
I wald we sould bestow it into that
Which were most pleasour to our heavenly King.
Flee ydilteth, which is the greatest lat;
Bot, sen that death to all is destinat,

Let us employ that tyme that God hath send us,
In doing weill, that good men may commend us.

Ayton, the Earl of Ancrum, the Earl of Stirling, Drummond, and Doctor Arthur Johnston, close the brief list of Scottish poets whom this important period in English literature produced.

ROBERT AYTON was born in Fifeshire in 1570. He was well educated, a devoted courtier, and enjoyed the advantages of foreign travel and intercourse with the poets of other nations, particularly with those of England. After king James succeeded to the English crown, he invited Ayton to that court, appointed him one of the gentlemen of the bed-chamber, and private secretary to the queen, besides conferring upon him the honor of knight

In England, Ayton, unlike the majority of his countrymen, was very popular; and even Ben Jonson was so proud of his friendship and affection that he boasted of it to Drummond. His death occurred in 1638, but under what circumstances is unknown.

Sir Robert Ayton was the author of only a comparatively limited number of poems, but the few that we have are written in very pure English, and evince a smoothness of style and delicacy of fancy that have rarely been surpassed. To illustrate this remark the following stanzas will be sufficient :

WOMAN'S INCONSTANCY.

I lov'd thee once, I'll love no more,
Thine be the grief as is the blame;
Thou art not what thou wast before,
What reason I should be the same?
He that can love unlov'd again,
Hath better store of love than brain:
God send me love my debts to pay,
While unthrifts fool their love away.

Nothing could have my love o'erthrown,
If thou hadst still continued mine;
Yea, if thou hadst remain'd thy own,
I might perchance have yet been thine.
But thou thy freedom did recall,
That if thou might elsewhere inthrall;
And then how could I but disdain
A captive's captive to remain ?

When new desires had conquer'd thee,
And chang'd the object of thy will,

It had been lethargy in me,

Not constancy to love thee still.

Yea, it had been a sin to go

And prostitute affection so,

Since we are taught no prayers to say.

To such as must to others pray.

Yet do thou glory in thy choice,

Thy choice of his good fortune boast;

I'll neither grieve nor yet rejoice,

To see him gain what I have lost;

256

EARL OF ANCRUM.-EARL OF STIRLING.

[LECT. XI.

The height of my disdain shall be,
To laugh at him, to blush for thee;
To love thee still, but go no more
A begging to a beggar's door.

The EARL OF ANCRUM was a younger son of Sir Andrew Ker of Ferneihurst, and was born in 1578. He early became a very great favorite with king James, and was held in equal esteem by that monarch's son and successor Charles the First. He was possessed of a competent fortune, and his life seems to have passed calmly and smoothly along until an advanced age. His death occurred in 1654.

The Earl's poems are generally brief fugitive pieces, and the following sonnet, which he addressed to Drummond the poet in 1624, shows how greatly the union of crowns under James had contributed toward the cultivation of the English style and language in Scotland :—

IN PRAISE OF A SOLITARY LIFE.

Sweet solitary life! lovely, dumb joy,

That need'st no warnings how to grow more wise,
By other men's mishaps, nor the annoy

Which from sore wrongs done to one's self doth rise.
The morning's second mansion, truth's first friend,

Never acquainted with the world's vain broils,
When the whole day to our own use we spend,

And our dear time no fierce ambition spoils.

Most happy state, that never tak'st revenge

For injuries received, nor dost fear

The court's great earthquake, the griev'd truth of change,
Nor none of falsehood's savoury lies dost hear;

Nor knows hope's sweet disease that charms our sense,
Nor its sad cure-dear-bought experience.

WILLIAM ALEXANDER, afterward Earl of Stirling, was born at Menstrie, in 1580. Having received a liberal education, he travelled abroad with the Duke of Argyle, either as his tutor or his companion; and upon his return to Scotland he selected, as his residence, a rural retreat, where he passed some time in study, and in the composition of the Aurora, his first important poem. On leaving his rural abode, Alexander repaired to Edinburgh, with the design of devoting himself exclusively to poetical pursuits. Here he composed his four tragedies, Darius, Croesus, Alexander, and Julius Cæsar, which were published in London, in 1607, with a dedication to the King. In 1613, Alexander published a sacred poem in twelve books on the Day of Judgment; and during the same year he was appointed one of the gentlemen ushers to Prince Charles, and knighted.

Relinquishing, soon after these events occurred, the character of the poet, and assuming that of the statesman, Sir William was appointed by Charles the First, in 1626, secretary of state for Scotland; and with such faithfulness and fidelity did he discharge the duties of this important office, that in

1633, the king created him, by letters patent, Earl of Stirling. He continued to fill the important office which he had so long held, for seven years after this last honor was conferred upon him, and died in his own castle, on the twelfth of February, 1640, in his sixty-first year.

The Earl of Stirling published in 1637, a complete edition of his works under the title of Recreations with the Muses, embracing, in addition to the productions already mentioned, a heroic poem entitled Jonathan, and an address to Prince Henry. Julius Cæsar,' one of the Earl's tragedies, contains several passages resembling parts of Shakspeare's tragedy of the same name; but it can not be ascertained which was first published. The genius of Shakspeare did not disdain to gather hints and expressions from comparatively obscure authors-the lesser lights of the age-and a famous passage in the 'Tempest' is supposed to have been also derived from the Earl of Stirling. In the play of Darius, occurs the following reflection :—

Let greatness of her glassy sceptres vaunt,

Not sceptres, no, but reeds, soon bruised, soon broken :)
And let this worldly pomp our wits enchant,

All fades, and scarcely leaves behind a token.

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The lines of Shakspeare will, of course, instantly suggest themselves

And like this insubstantial pageant, faded,

Leave not a wreck behind.

None of the productions of the Earl of Stirling, touch the heart or entrance the imagination. He has nothing of the humble, but genuine inspiration of Alexander Hume; yet he was a calm aad elegant poet, with considerable fancy, and an ear for refined metrical harmony. The following is one of his best sonnets:

TO AURORA.

I swear, Aurora, by thy starry eyes,

And by those golden locks, whose lock none slips,

And by the coral of thy rosy lips,

And by the naked snows which beauty dyes;]

I swear by all the jewels of thy mind,
Whose like yet never worldly treasure bought,
Thy solid judgment, and thy generous thought,
Which in this darken'd age have clearly shin'd;
I swear by those, and by my spotless love,
And by my secret, yet most fervent fires,

That I have never nurst but chaste desires,

And such as modesty might well approve.

Then, since I love those virtuous parts in thee,

Should'st thou not love this virtuous mind in me?

WILLIAM DRUMMOND, a contemporary of the Earl of Stirling, and a poet of greatly superior genius, was born at Hawthornden, on the thirteenth of November, 1585. His father, Sir John Drummond, was gentleman usher to James the Sixth, and the future poet received his education, first at the uni

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