INSUFFICIENCY OF PHILOSOPHY.
Then what is our high-prais'd philosophy,
But books of poesy in prose compil'd,
Far more delightful than they fruitful be,
Witty appearance, guile that is beguil'd;
Corrupting minds much rather than directing,
Th' allay of duty, and our pride's erecting.
For, as among physicians, what they call
Word magic, never helpeth the disease
Which drugs and diet ought to deal withal,
And by their real working give us ease;
So these word-sellers have no power to cure
The passions which corrupted lives endure.
SONNET FROM LORD BROOK'S CAELICA.
MERLIN, they say, an English prophet born, When he was young, and govern'd by his mother, Took great delight to laugh such fools to scorn, As thought by nature we might know a brother.
His mother chid him oft, till on a day
They stood and saw a corpse to burial carried: The father tears his beard, doth weep and pray, The mother was the woman he had married.
Merlin laughs out aloud, instead of crying;
His mother chides him for that childish fashion,
Says men must mourn the dead, themselves are
Good manners doth make answer unto passion.
The child (for children see what should be hidden)
Replies unto his mother by and by:
Mother, if you did know, and were forbidden,
Yet you would laugh as heartily as I.
This man no part hath in the child he sorrows,
His father was the monk, that sings before him:
See then how nature of adoption borrows,
Truth covets in me that I should restore him.
SIR JOHN BEAUMONT.
BORN 1582.-DIED 1628.
SIR JOHN BEAUMONT, brother of the celebrated dramatic poet, was born at Grace Dieu, the seat of the family in Leicestershire. He studied at Oxford, and at the inns of court; but, forsaking the law, married and retired to his native seat. Two years before his death he was knighted by Charles the First.
He wrote the Crown of Thorns, a poem, of which no copy is known to be extant; Bosworth Field;
and a variety of small original and translated pieces. Bosworth Field may be compared with Addison's Campaign, without a high compliment to either. Sir John has no fancy, but there is force and dignity in some of his passages; and he deserves notice as one of the earliest polishers of what is called the heroic couplet.
RICHARD BEFORE THE BATTLE OF BOSWORTH.
THE duke's stout presence, and courageous looks,
Were to the king as falls of sliding brooks;
Which bring a gentle and delightful rest
To weary eyes, with grievous care opprest.
He bids that Norfolk, and his hopeful son,
Whose rising fame in arms this day begun,
Should lead the vanguard-for so great command
He dares not trust in any other hand—
The rest he to his own advice refers,
And as the spirit in that body stirs.
Then, putting on his crown, a fatal sign!
So offer'd beasts near death in garlands shine-
He rides about the ranks, and strives t'inspire
Each breast with part of his unwearied fire.
"My fellow soldiers! though your swords
Are sharp, and need not whetting by my words,
Yet call to mind the many glorious days
In which we treasured up immortal praise.
If, when I serv'd, I ever fled from foe,
Fly ye from mine-let me be punish'd so!
But if my father, when at first he tried
How all his sons could shining blades abide,
Found me an eagle, whose undazzled eyes
Affront the beams that from the steel arise,
And if I now in action teach the same,
Know then, ye have but changed your general's
Be still yourselves! Ye fight against the dross
Of those who oft have run from you with loss.
How many Somersets (dissension's brands)
Have felt the force of our revengeful hands?—
From whom this youth, as from a princely flood,
Derives his best, but not untainted blood-
Have our assaults made Lancaster to droop?
And shall this Welshman, with his ragged troop,
Subdue the Norman and the Saxon line,
That only Merlin may be thought divine?-
See what a guide these fugitives have chose!
Who, bred among the French, our ancient foes,
Forgets the English language and the ground,
And knows not what our drums and trumpets sound!"
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