Greek was free from rhyme's infection,
Happy Greek, by this protection,
Was not spoiled.

Whilst the Latin, queen of tongues,
Is not yet free from rhyme's wrongs,
But rests foiled.

Scarce the hill again doth flourish,
Scarce the world a wit doth nourish,
To restore

Phœbus to his crown again;
And the Muses to their brain;
As before.

Vulgar languages that want

Words, and sweetness, and be scant

Of true measure,

Tyrant rhyme hath so abused,

That they long since have refused,
Other cesure.

He that first invented thee,

May his joints tormented be,

Cramp'd for ever;

Still may syllabes' jar with time,
Still may reason war with rhyme,
Resting never!

May his sense when it would meet
The cold tumour in his feet,

Grow unsounder;

And his title be long fool,

That in rearing such a school

Was the founder !

Still may syllabes.] Whalley reads syllables here and in the preceding page, but injuriously in both places. Jonson uses syllabe almost invariably; for which he is commended by Horne Tooke.

XLVIII.

AN EPIGRAM

ON WILLIAM LORD BURLEIGH, LORD HIGH

TREASURER OF ENGLAND.

8

F thou wouldst know the virtues of mankind,
Read here in one, what thou in all canst

find,

And go no further: let this circle be

Thy universe, though his epitome.

Cecil, the grave, the wise, the great, the good,
What is there more that can ennoble blood?
The orphan's pillar, the true subject's shield,
The poor's full store-house, and just servant's field.
The only faithful watchman for the realm,
That in all tempests never quit the helm,
But stood unshaken in his deeds and name,

And labour'd in the work; not with the fame :

That still was good for goodness' sake, nor thought Upon reward, till the reward him sought.

Whose offices and honours did surprise,

Rather than meet him and before his eyes

Clos'd to their peace, he saw his branches shoot,
And in the noblest families took root,

Of all the land: Who now at such a rate,

Of divine blessing, would not serve a state?

8 An Epigram, &c.] "Presented (the fol. says) upon a plate of gold to his son Robert earl of Salisbury, when he was also Treasurer." Lord Burleigh died in August, 1598. There are no means of ascertaining the date of this epigram: if it was written on the same occasion as that noble one, p. 177, it was produced in 1608. But whatever might be the period of its appearance, it was equally worthy of the poet, and the patron, who must have been highly gratified with the judicious and characteristic applause bestowed on the great statesman to whose honours he succeeded.

XLIX.

AN EPIGRAM

TO THOMAS LORD ELESMERE, 9

THE LAST TERM HE SAT CHANCELLOR.

O, justest lord, may all your judgments be Laws; and no change e'er come to one decree :

So may the king proclaim your conscience is Law to his law; and think your enemies his : So, from all sickness, may you rise to health, The care and wish still of the public wealth: So may the gentler muses, and good fame, Still fly about the odour of your name; As, with the safety' and honour of the laws, You favour truth, and me, in this man's cause!

L.

ANOTHER TO THE SAME."

HE judge his favour timely then extends,
When a good cause is destitute of friends,
Without the pomp of counsel; or more aid,
Than to make falsehood blush, and fraud

afraid :

9 For this excellent person see p. 184. He held the seals, in compliance with the reiterated intreaties of James, till the 3rd of March, 1617, when, as Camden tells us, the king received them from him with tears of gratitude.

This Epigram (Jonson says) was written for a poor man, who had a suit depending before lord Elesmere. Its date may be referred to Michaelmas Term, 1616.

• For the same poor man.

When those good few, that her defenders be,
Are there for charity, and not for fee.

Such shall you hear to-day, and find great foes
Both arm'd with wealth and slander to oppose,
Who thus long safe, would gain upon the times
A right by the prosperity of their crimes;

Who, though their guilt and perjury they know,
Think, yea, and boast, that they have done it so,
As, though the court pursues them on the scent,
They will come off, and 'scape the punishment.
When this appears, just lord, to your sharp sight,
He does you wrong, that craves you to do right.

LI.

AN EPIGRAM

TO THE COUNSELLOR THAT PLEADED,

AND CARRIED THE CAUSE.

HAT I hereafter do not think the bar,
The seat made of a more than civil war,1
Or the great hall at Westminster, the field
Where mutual frauds are fought, and no side
yield,

That henceforth I believe nor books, nor men,
Who 'gainst the law weave calumnies, my Benn;
But when I read or hear the names so rife,
Of hirelings, wranglers, stitchers-to of strife,

1 A more than civil war.]

plusquam civilia bella. LUCAN.

2 Who 'gainst the law weave calumnies, my —.] This blank, I imagine, was to have been filled with the name of the counsellor who pleaded in the cause: it must be a word of one syllable, and answer in rhyme to men, the close of the preceding verse. From these particulars, it is probable, the person here meant was Anthony Benn, who succeeded the solicitor Coventry in the recordership of London. WHAL.

Hook-handed harpies, gowned vultures, put
Upon the reverend pleaders; do now shut
All mouths that dare entitle them, from hence,
To the wolf's study, or dog's eloquence;

Thou art my cause: whose manners since I knew,
Have made me to conceive a lawyer new.
So dost thou study matter, men, and times,
Mak'st it religion to grow rich by crimes;
Dar'st not abuse thy wisdom in the laws,
Or skill to carry out an evil cause :

But first dost vex, and search it! if not sound,
Thou prov'st the gentler ways to cleanse the wound,
And make the scar fair; if that will not be,
Thou hast the brave scorn to put back the fee!
But in a business that will bide the touch,

What use, what strength of reason, and how much
Of books, of precedents hast thou at hand!
As if the general store thou didst command
Of argument, still drawing forth the best,
And not being borrow'd by thee, but possest.
So com'st thou like a chief into the court
Arm'd at all pieces, as to keep a fort
Against a multitude; and, with thy style

So brightly brandish'd, wound'st, defend'st! the while
Thy adversaries fall, as not a word

They had, but were a reed unto thy sword.
Then com'st thou off with victory and palm,
Thy hearer's nectar, and thy client's balm,
The court's just honour, and thy judge's love.
And (which doth all achievements get above)
Thy sincere practice breeds not thee a fame
Alone, but all thy rank a reverend name.