near Dover, in Kent, and had issue, (besides, two younger children, Eliz. and Steward,;

1

"Thomas Stanley, Esq. aged about nine years in 1634.”*

This last Thomas was indisputably the poet, and author of the other learned works here enumerated. He dedicates his "Lives of the Philosophers," to his dear and much esteemed uncle, John Marsham, Esq. afterwards Sir John Marsham, Knt. and Bart. the very learned Chronologist, who married Elizabeth, another daughter of the abovementioned Sir William Hammond, as may be seen in Collins's Peerage, (new edit. Vol. V. title Earl of Romney.)

Thomas Stanley died 12 April, 1678, and was buried in the church of St. Martin's in the Fields. The learned Dr. William Wotton, (who married a Hammond of the St. Albans family) wrote an eulogium on our author, which was published at the end of Scævola Sammarthanus's Elogia Gallorum.

Our author has a poem addressed "To Mr. W. Hammond," beginning,

"Thou best of friendship, knowledge and of art,
The charm of whose lov'd name preserves my heart
From female vanities, (thy name, which there
Till Time dissolves the fabric, I must wear!")

He left a son, Thomas Stanley, educated like himself at Pembroke Hall, Cambridge, who, when very young, translated into English Claud. Elianus's Various Histories, printed at Lond. 1665, 8vo. and dedicated it to his aunt, the Lady Newton, wife of Sir Henry Puckering Newton, Knt. and Bart. to whom his father had dedicated his Aschylus.

Stanley's poems have more merit than most of those which have of late been revived. Extracts have been given in the Censura Literaria, Vol. IX The following is a translation from Marino.

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Nymph, said he, a nymph thou wert,
Now a naked voice thou art;

Who, words follow'st, though thy hast
Onely can o'retake the last:

Thou, who with this murmuring source,
Birds, and beasts, maintain'st discourse,
To these rugged cliffs confin'd;

Thou, ah, none but thou! art kind:
Who, in pitty of my mone,

Often dost forget thine own.

Oracle of rural loves!

Speaking shade! soul of the groves!
Who, through each deserted place,
Dost thy savage lover trace;
Aery spirit wand'ring noise!
Unseen image of the voice!
Wilde inhabitant that dwels,
In inhospitable cells !

If thou canst thy passion share,
Hear, and pitty my despair.

To the sad complaints I send,
From thy hollow grot attend;
But my grief when I have told,
To no other ear unfold,
If thy own unhappy fate,
Teach thee pitty to my state;
Carefully this secret lock,
tresIn the caverns of that rock;

And let its rude breast become,
To my woes, and thee, a tomb.

Not that I fear to complain"
Of my wrongs, and her disdain ;
But, I would not, at their story,
The unpitying heavens should glory;
Nor that this unhappy noise,
Should disturb another's joyes."
Come then, to this dismal shade,

Never by the sun betraid,

We together will retire,

And our griefs alone expire.

་་

Thou our destinies wilt fiude, T
If compar'd, alike unkinde.
Equal beauty crowns both them!
Who our amorous suits contemn.
Thou to empty air didst turn,
I in sighs dissolving mourn:
Thou retir st from humane sight,
Courting loneness, flying light;
I the deserts seeking, shun
Equally, the world, and sun.

Hither often comes my coy
Fair one, like thy cruel boy,
And in this brook's fluid glass,
With delight surveys her face;
But if she, like him, to none
Save herself must kindness own,
Why my heart will she not view,
Where her form Love's pencil drew;
And if pleas'd with that she be,
Love herself in loving me?

If my sorrows, thus displaid,
Thy compassion may perswade;
Quit these beasts, and forests wilde,
To seek one then these less milde;
Leave thy dwelling in this stone,
To find out a living one;

On thy wing my soft sighs bear,
Breath them gently in her ear;
That she thus may learn to prove
Grief, though ignorant of love,

Or when day's bright star the fields
With meridian lustre guilds,
If she seek out this retreat ;
To defend her from the heat;
And upon this smooth bank ly,
Teaching the birds harmony:....
Or discourse with thee; o'recome
With her voice, oh, be not dumb :
Tell her what my grief affords
In entire, not broken words.

Taught thee her lov'd name t'invoke,
Carv'd it upon every oak squaso th
Trees Licoris only bear

To the eye, rocks to the ear.

Nymph, if thou wilt relieve me,
Thousand garlands I will give thee;
Juno shall prove harsh no more,
And thy humane vail restore : I
Heaven thy speech return, appeas'd,
To thy arms thy lover pleas'd;
And this cave, which hath so long
Been acquainted with thy wrong;
Shall a faithful witness be

Of the love 'twixt him and thee,

Fool, who vainly doth deceive thee!
Or of reason thus bereave thee?
Why dost thou thy sad estate
To the sportive streams relate?
Comfort who, or pitty finds,
In dumb rock, or in deaf winds ?
And, thou aid of all my grief,
Where I onely found relief;
My last accents who dost ease,
Art as silent now, as these.

Cruel nymph! to rob my joyes.
Voice itself is without noyse;
She, who did some speech retain,
Her own sorrows to complain;
Now in silence drowns her grief,
Lest she should give mine relief.
Li Wanton daughter of the airbo
Who regard'st not my dispair,
Know, I can grieve inward too,
And be dumb as well as you."

Η ΔΑΦΝΙΣ ΠΟΛΥΣΤΕΦΑΝΟΣ. An Eclog, treating of Crownes, and of Garlandes, and to whom of right they appertaine. Addressed and consecrated to the King's Maiestie. By G. B. Knight. Quod maximum, et optimum esse dicitur, oportet esse unum et Arist. Top. l. 7. At London Printed by G. Eld for Thomas Adums, 1605. 4to. Sign. G. 4.

This poem of Sir George Buc is dedicated to King James, in honour of whose descent from the regal race. of England this genealogical garland is composed. It is a dialogue between Damætas and Silenus, the former "having been long a woodian, and having observed the natures and properties of many trees, being now desirous to learn from the latter "the peculiar majes tical matter in the Genest."

"Stanza 1. (Damætas.)

"Of all the trees in heavenly Sylvan's guard,

Wherewith the worthiest brows were crown'd of yore, There is but one, or few, (O reverend Bard)

Amid whose virtue's maze I would require

A line of any learned wizard's lore.

The plant of Genest chiefly I admire,

Whose humble highness makes me oft surmise
That lowly steps be ladders to the skies.

2.

For well I wist tho' Genest doth not dwell
In proudest soil, nor tops of mountains high,
She shews by this that she foreseeth well

The perils which do all extremes impend,
Th' aspiring Pine whose top doth threat the sky,
Divine revenge doth headlongs oft down send,
When this is safe upon her humble bill,

Nor thrall to any proud superior's will." &c. &c.

The Queene of Nauarres Tales. Containing Verie pleasant Discourses of fortunate Lovers. Now newly translated out of French into English. Lon-' don, printed by V. S. for John Oxenbridge, and are to be solde at his shop in Paule's Churchyard, at the signe of the Parot. 1597. qto. Sig. M. 4.

The preface is uncommonly spirited and humourous. It is addressed to his assured good friend J. O' stationer," and was not written by the translator of the tales, as he says:" you hauing manie times beene in Hand with me about a booke intituled, The Queene of Nauarre's Tales; which (as you say), you haue caused to be translated out of French, at your proper charges,

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