g"* S. X. Sbpt. 22. '600 



NOTES AND QUERIES. 



223 



The following lines were extracted by Dr. 

 Bliss from a MS. in the Ashmolean Museum, and 

 have never before been published : — 

 Mr. Carew to his Friend. 

 " Like to the hand that hath been us'd to playe 

 One lesson long, still runs the self same way, 

 And waights not what the hearers bid it strike, 

 But doth presume from custom this will like, 

 Soe runne my thoughts, which are so perfect growne, 

 Soe well acquainted with my passion, 

 That now they don't present me with their haste 

 And e're I think to sighe, my sighe is past ; 

 Its past and flown to you, so you alone 

 Are all the object that I think upon. 

 And did j-ou not supply my soule with thought 

 For want of action, it to none were brought ; 

 What though, our absent armes may not unfolde 

 Eeal embraces, yet we firmly hold 

 Each other in possession ; thus we see 

 Tde Lord enjoys his lands whear ere he bee. 

 If kings possess no more then, when they rate. 

 What would they greater than a meane estate ? 

 This makes me firmlye yours, you firmly mine. 

 That something more than bodies do combine." 



Thesame MS. contains Carew's version of several 

 of the psalms. Amongst them that of 137th, "By 

 the waters of Babylon," &c. 



" Sitting by the streams that glide, 

 Downe by Babell's towring wall, 

 With our teares we fiU'd the tyde, 

 Whilst our myndful thoughts recall, 

 Thee, Sion. and thy fall. 



" Our neglected harps unstrung. 

 Not acquainted with the hand 

 Of the skilful tuner, hung 



On the willow trees that strand 

 Planted in the neighbour land. 



" Yet the spightful foe commands 

 Songs of mirth, and bids us lay. 

 To dumb harps our captive hands, 

 And to soothe our sorrows, say — 

 Sing us some sweet Hebrew lay. 



." But, say we, our holy strain 

 Is too pure for heathen land. 

 Nor may we God's hymns prophane, 

 Or move either voyce or hand^ 

 To delight a savage band. 



" Holy Salem, if thy love 



Fall from my forgetfull heart, 

 May the skill by which I move 

 • Strings of musicke, tun'd with art 

 From my withered hand depart. 

 " May my speechless tongue give sound 

 To no accents, but remain 

 To my prison roof fast bound 

 If my sad soul entertain 

 Mirth, till thou rejoice again. 

 " In that day remember, Lord, 



Edom's breed that in our groans 

 They triumph, — with fire and sword 

 Burn their citie, hearse their bones. 

 And make them one heap of stones. 

 " Men shall bless the hand that teares 

 From the mother's soft embraces 

 Sucking infants, and besmeares 

 With their brains, the rugged faces 

 Of the rocks and stony places." 



Robert Gomersall, author of the Levite's Re- 

 venge and other dramas and poems. At the end 

 of the Levite's Revenge are the following lines 

 upon 



" Flatter!/ of Ourselves. 



" How we dally out our dayes. 

 How we seek a thousand ways. 

 To find death ! the which, if none 

 We sought out, would shew us one ; 

 Why then do we injure fate 

 When we will inspect the date 

 And expiring of our time 

 To be her's, which is our crime ? 

 Wish we not our end ? and worse 

 Mak't a prayer which is a curse ? 

 Does there not in each^breast lie 

 Both our soule and enemy. 



" Never was there morning yet 

 (Sweet as is the violet). 

 Which man's folly did not soon 

 Wish to be expired in noone ; 

 As though such an haste did tend 

 To our blisse and not our end ; 

 Nay the young ones in the nest 

 Suck this folly from the breast, 

 And no stammering ape that can 

 Spoyle a prayer to be a man. 



" But suppose that he is heard 

 By the sprouting of his beard, 

 And he hath what he doth seek 

 The soft clothing of the cheek ; 

 Yet would he stay here or be 

 Fixt in this maturity 'f 

 Sooner shall the wandring star 

 Learn what rest and quiet are : 

 Sooner shall the slippery rill 

 Leave his motion and stand still. 



"Be it joy, or be it sorow, 

 We refer all to the morrow. 

 That we think will ease our paine. 

 That we do suppose a gain 

 Will increase our joye, and so 

 Events (the which we cannot knowe) 

 We magnifie, and are (in some) 

 Enamoured of the time to come. 

 Well the next day comes, and then, 

 Another next, and so to ten ; 

 To twenty we arrive, and find 

 No more before us than behind 

 Of solid joy, and yet haste on 

 To our consummation : 

 Till the baldness of the crown ; 

 Till all the face do frowne ; 

 Till the forehead often have 

 The remembrance of a grave ; 

 Till the eyes looke in to find 

 If that they can see the mind ; 

 Till the sharpness of the nose. 

 Till that we have lived to pose 

 Sharper eyes who cannot knowe, 

 Whether we are men or no ; 

 Till the hollow of the cheeke, 

 Till we know not what we seeke, 

 And at last of life bereaved 

 Die unhappy and deceived," J. M.^Gdtcu. 



The late Dr. Bliss (2"^ S. x. 181.) — Mb. 

 GuTCH has omitted to state in his little memoir 



