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DESPAIR OF A POOR SCHOLAR,

FROM PIERCE PENNILESS.

WHY is't damnation to despair and die,
When life is my true happiness' disease?
My soul, my soul, thy safety makes me fly
The faulty means that might my pain appease;
Divines and dying men may talk of hell,
But in my heart her several torments dwell.

Ah, worthless wit! to train me to this woe:
Deceitful arts! that nourish discontent:
Ill thrive the folly that bewitch'd me so !
Vain thoughts, adieu! for now I will repent,-
And yet my wants persuade me to proceed,
For none take pity of a scholar's need.

Forgive me, God, although I curse my birth,
And ban the air wherein I breathe a wretch,
Since misery hath daunted all my mirth,
And I am quite undone through promise breach;
Ah friends!—no friends that then ungentle frown,
When changing fortune casts us headlong down.

Without redress complains my careless verse,
And Midas' ears relent not at my moan;
In some far land will I my griefs rehearse,

'Mongst them that will be mov'd when I shall groau. England, adieu! the soil that brought me forth, Adieu! unkind, where skill is nothing worth.

EDWARD VERE,

EARL OF OXFORD.

BORN 1534.-DIED 1604.

THIS nobleman sat as Great Chamberlain of England upon the trial of Mary Queen of Scots. In the year of the armada he distinguished his public spirit by fitting out some ships at his private cost. He had travelled in Italy in his youth, and is said to have returned the most accomplished coxcomb of his age. The story of his quarrel with Sir Philip Sydney, as it is related by Collins, gives us a most unfavourable idea of his manners and temper, and shews to what a height the claims of aristocratical privilege were at that time carried'. Some still

1 The Earl of Oxford being one day in the tennis-court with Sir Philip Sydney, on some offence which he had taken, ordered him to leave the room, and, on his refusal, gave him the epithet of a puppy. Sir Philip retorted the lie on his lordship; and left the place, expecting to be followed by the peer. But Lord Oxford neither followed him nor noticed his quarrel, till her Majesty's council had time to command the peace. The queen interfered, reminding Sir Philip of the difference between " earls and gentlemen," and of the respect which inferiors owed their superiors. Sydney, boldly but respectfully, stated to her majesty, that rank among freemen could claim no other homage than precedency, and did not obey her commands to make submission to Oxford. For a fuller statement of this anecdote, vide the quotation from Collins, in the British Bibliographer, vol. i. p. 83.

more discreditable traits of his character are to be found in the history of his life'.

FANCY AND DESIRE.

FROM THE PARADISE OF DAINTY DEVICES.

WHEN Wert thou born, Desire? In pride and pomp of May.

By whom, sweet boy, wert thou begot? By fond conceit, men say.

Tell me who was thy nurse? Fresh Youth, in sugar'd

joy.

What was thy meat and daily food? Sad sighs with great annoy.

What hadst thou then to drink? Unsavoury lover's

tears.

What cradle wert thou rocked in? In hope devoid of fears.

What lull'd thee, then, asleep? Sweet sleep, which likes me best.

Tell me where is thy dwelling-place? In gentle hearts I rest.

What thing doth please thee most? To gaze on beauty still.

What dost thou think to be thy foe? Disdain of my good-will.

Doth company displease? Yes, surely, many one. Where doth Desire delight to live? He loves to live alone.

By Mr. Park, in the Catalogue of Royal and Noble Authors.

Doth either Time or Age bring him into decay? No, no, Desire both lives and dies a thousand times a day.

Then, fond Desire, farewell! thou art no mate for

me:

I should, methinks, be loth to dwell with such a one as thee.

LINES ATTRIBUTED TO THE EARL OF OXFORD.

IN A MS. OF THE BODLEIAN LIBRARY.

Ir women could be fair, and yet not fond,
Or that their love were firm, not fickle still,
I would not marvel that they make me bond,
By service long, to purchase their good-will;
But when I see how frail those creatures are,
I muse that men forget themselves so far.

To mark the choice they make, and how they change,

How oft from Phoebus they do flee to Pan;
Unsettled still, like haggards wild they range,
These gentle birds that fly from man to man;
Who would not scorn and shake them from the fist,
And let them fly, fair fools, where'er they list?

Yet, for disport, we fawn and flatter both,
To pass the time when nothing else can please,

And train them to our lure with subtil oath,
Till, weary of their wiles, ourselves we ease;
And then we say, when we their fancy try,
To play with fools, oh, what a fool was I!

THOMAS STORER.

DIED 1604.

253

THE date of this writer's birth can only be generally conjectured from his having been elected a student of Christ Church, Oxford, in 1587. The slight notice of him by Wood only mentions that he was the son of John Storer, a Londoner, and that he died in the metropolis. Besides the History of Cardinal Wolsey in three parts, viz. his aspiring, his triumph, and death, he wrote several pastoral pieces in England's Helicon.

FROM THE LIFE AND DEATH OF CARDINAL

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WOLSEY.

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PERCHANCE the tenor of my mourning verse
May lead some pilgrim to my tombless grave,
Where neither marble monument, nor hearse,
The passenger's attentive view may crave,
Which honours now the meanest persons have;
But well is me, where'er my ashes lie,
If one tear drop from some religious eye.

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