They watch'd her the live-long day and night, Till their eyes were dimm'd with weeping! She could not wake from her trance of death, But lay like a sweet babe sleeping. And beauty still seem'd to play on her cheek, Tho' death's cold finger touch'd it, And the rose, as it wither'd, yet sweetly smil'd Beneath the hand that crush'd it. Vespers were said, and the hours pass'd on, And many a holy prayer was said, They pull'd the fairest flow'rs of the year, For the tears of heaven bedew'd them! CCXVIII. THE POOR SWEEP. FOUNDED ON FACT. Twas a keen frosty morn, and the snow heavy falling, When a child of misfortune was thus sadly calling, Sweep! sweep! I am cold, and the snow's very deep; O pray, take compassion on poor little sweep! The tears down his cheeks in large drops were fast rolling, Who frequently warn'd him at distance to keep, In vain he implor'd passing strangers for pity: Nor heard the sad wailings of poor little sweep. At the step of a door, half frozen and dejected, Ff Unmindful of sneers, to a neighbour's she led him, In rapture she gaz'd, on each black sooty feature, little sweep. འ་་་་་ CCXIX. STEER, HITHER STEER YOUR WINGED PINES'. Syren's Song. Steer, hither steer your winged pines, All beaten mariners! Here lie love's undiscover'd mines, A prey to passengers: "William Browne, the author of this song, seems to have been bom about 1590, at Tavistock, in Devonshire, where he was instructed in grammide tical learning. Having passed some time at Exeter College, Oxford, he quited the University without a degree, entered into the society of the Perfumes far sweeter than the best Which make the Phoenix' urn and nest. Fear not your ships Nor any to oppose you, save our lips; But come on shore, Where no joy dies, till love hath gotten more. For swelling waves, our panting breasts, Exchange, and be awhile our guests, For stars gaze on our eyes; The compass, love shall hourly sing, We will not miss To tell each point he nameth with a kiss; Then come on shore, Where no joy dies, till love have gotten more. Middle Temple, and published, in 1613, the first part of his "Britannia's Pastorals," folio. In 1614 was published his "Shepherd's pipe," 8vo. (containing also the pirated edition of Wither, 1620,) and in 1616, the second part of the "Pastorals." Both parts were reprinted in 1625, 8vo. In 1624, he returned to Exeter College and became tutor to Robert Dormer, afterwards Earl of Cærnarvon. During his stay he was created A. M. being styled in the public register "Vir omni humana literatura et bonarum artium cognitione instructus." He then went into the family of the Earl of Pembroke, obtained wealth, and purchased an estate, and is supposed to have died in 1645. See Wood (Ath. Ox. I. 491.) who says "that as he had a little body, so a great mind." We are indebted to Browne for having preserved in his "Shepherd's Pipe" a curious poem by Occleve. Mr. Warton conceives his works "to have been well known to Milton," and refers to "Britannia's Pastorals" for the same assemblage of circumstances in the morning landscape as were brought together more than thirty years afterwards by Milton, in a passage of L'Allegro, which has been supposed to serve as a repository of imagery on that subject for all succeeding poets." CCXX. WEEP NOT FOR THE FALLEN BRAVE. A1R."Scots wha hae wi' Wallace bled." Weep not for the fallen brave, Where a Patriot lies. His the loveliest wreath that fame Who that boasts a Briton's pride, Who to heroes so allied, Would not woo the death they died, Crown'd by victory? Who, that is a freeman's son, Win with death, as they have won, |