74 MY DEVON YEAR 



" To Primroses filled with Morning Dew," " To 

 Anthea (who may command him anything)/' " A 

 Nuptiall Song, or Epithalamie, on Sir Clipseby Crew 

 and his Lady," "To Daffadills," "To Blossoms," 

 " The Night-piece, to Julia," and half a hundred 

 more gems from Hesperides ; that "His Letanie, to 

 the Holy Spirit," " A Thanksgiving to God, for his 

 House," "The Dirge of Jephthah's Daughter," and 

 "The Widdowes Teares," adorn Noble Numbers. No 

 sweeter, quainter, more delicious music ever came out 

 of Devon, or any other county, and while the elect 

 still love a laugh and a lyric, a pretty face and a 

 pretty flower, melodious Robin shall hold his pyramid. 



" Not all thy flushing Sunnes are set, 



Herrick, as yet ; 



Nor doth this far-drawn Hemisphere 

 Frown, and look sullen ev'rywhere, 

 Daies may conclude in nights ; and Suns may rest, 



As dead, within the West ; 

 Yet the next Morne, re-guild the fragrant East." 



