PATRICK HANNAY Appears to have served in a military capacity under Sir Andrew Gray, knt. a colonel of foot, and general of artillery to the king of Bohemia. His "Happy Husband, with 66 a Wife's Behaviour after Marriage," was printed in 1619, and again, with "Philomela, the Nightingale," "Sheretine "and Mariana," "Elegies," "Songs and Sonnets," in 1622. These productions he describes to be the "fruit of 66 some hours he with the Muses spent." SONG. Amantium ira amoris redintegratio est.. CELIA jealous, lest I did In my heart affect another, Women cannot passion smother. The dearer love, the more disdain, I vow'd (in anger) to abstain. She found her fault, and me invited. I came with intent to chide her, Resolved never to abide her: Yet, her fault she so excus'd, As it did me more entangle; Telling "True love must have fears."They ne'er lov'd that ne'er did wrangle; Lovers' jars but love endears. SONG. "SERVANT, farewell!" Is this my hire? Do my deserts no more require ? No! do not think to cheat me so; Thy lov'd idea I'll arrest, Nor think it ever shall part thence, [Extracted from "Philomela."] THE maple with a scarry skin Did spread broad pallid leaves; The quaking aspin, light and thin, To th' air light passage gives; Resembling still The trembling ill Which never rest, But still are prest To wave with every wind. JOHN HAGTHORPE. A small volume of his poems, consisting of "Divine Medi"tations and Elegies," was published in 1622, and in the next year a second collection, which he calls "Visiones "Rerum, the Visions of Things." All of these bear testimony to his learning and piety, but his subjects were too sublime for his genius. Of the anecdotes of his life I know nothing. On Time. TIME! I ever must complain Still resumes Courses new, repose most shunning. Like calm winds thou passest by us; Or the stream That no beam Of sharpest eye discerns to fleet. Therefore mortals all, deluded By thy grave and wrinkled face, In their judgments have concluded That thy slow and snail-like pace Still doth bend To no end, But to an eternal race. Budding youth's vain blooming wit Thinks the spring shall ever last, And the gaudy flowers that sit On Flora's brow shall never taste. Winter's scorn, Nor forlorn Bend their heads with chilling blast. Riper age expects to have Harvests of his proper toil, Times to give and to receive Seeds and fruits from fertile soil: But at length Doth his strength, Youth, and beauty, all recoil. |