Q48 . Scarce 
Whose passions not his masters are, 
Whose soule is still prepared for death: 
Unty’d unto the world with care 
Of princely love, or vulgar breath. 
Who hath his life from rumours freed, 
Whose conscience is his strong retreat : 
Whose state can neither flatterers feed, 
Nor ruine make accusers great. 
Who envieth none whom chance doth raise, 
Or vice: who never understood, 
How deepest wounds are given with praise 5 
Not rules of state, but rules of good. 
Who God doth late and early pray, 
More of his grace than gifts to lend; 
Who entertains the harmless day 
With a wellschosen booke or friend. 
This man is free from servile bands 
Or hope to rise, cr feare to fall 5 
Lord of himselfe, though not of ad, 
And having nothing, ‘he hath ail.”?. 
“ Regales Aphorismi; or a Royal Chain 
of, “Golden Sentences, Divine, Morall, 
and Politicull, as at several times and 
on several occasions they were delivered 
by King James.” 16mo. Lond, 1650. 
Opposite the title is a por trait of King 
James, from a wooden block, with these 
lines beneath : 
<s Whom earth nor air, whom neither 
Tweed nor Thames, 
Could-circle in: Lo here the shade of Taide 
His brow most royall,'as his heart most plain, 
_ His faith most pure, his works most sovereign. 
His leisures cried all factions down, and 
schisms, . 
And all his words almost were aphorisms.” 
The aphorisms amount to no less than 
three hundred and eighty-six. ‘The two 
following are selected. 
132. 
ee His majesty observed a. queint inter- 
rogatory put to.a jealous lover, out of that 
famous comedy of Ienoramus, the which 
his majesty highly commended; viz. 
whether he cesired most, or eather to be 
termed, Publius Cornelius, or Cornelius 
Tacitus. In further approbation of which 
comedy, besides in opposition and dislike 
of another comedy, performed and acted 
before his majesty by the schollers of the 
University cf Oxford, th&t-as in Cam- 
bridge -one sleep made him wake, so in 
Oxford one wake nade him sleep.” 
i las 
“That he would never believe any 
news 1n verse since the hearing of a bal- 
Jad made of the Bishop of Spalata, touch- 
ing his being a martyr.” 
Tracts. 
fOcrnt: 
“ Poems and Songs. By Thomas Flat- 
man.” Svo. Lond. 1674. ~ ' 
From this little volume we shall first, 
‘transcribe. “ A Thought on Death,” on 
which Pope seems tu have had an eye 
- when composing one of the most cele- 
brated of his smaller pieces. 
‘© When on my sick bed I languish, 
Full of sorrow, full of anguish, 
Fainting, gasping, trembling, cryingts 
Panting, groaning, speechless, dying, 
My soul just now about to take her flight 
Into the regions of etérnal night ; 
Ch tell me you, 
That have been long below, 
What shall Ido? 
What shall I think, when cruel death appears, 
That may extenuate my fears. 
Methinks I hear some gentle spirit sayy 
Be not fearful, come away? -- 
Think with thyself that naw thou shalt be 
free, 
And find thy long expected liberty; 
Better thou mayest, but worse thou cans’t 
not be 
Than in this vale of tears, and misery. 
Like Cesar, with assurance then come on, 
And unamaz*d, attempt the laurel crown, 
That lyes on t’other side death’s Rubicon.” 
: 
DLATH.—= Song. 
. €€Oh the'sad day, 
When friends shall shake their hedds and say 
Of miserable me, 
Hatk how he groans, look ‘how he pants for: 
breath, 
See how he sects les ah the pangs of death ! 
When they shall say of these poor eyes, 
How hollow and how dim they be, 
Mark low his breas: does swell and rise, 
Against his potent enemy! _ 
When some old friend shall step to my beleids, 
Touch my chill face, and thence as gently 
slide, , 
And when his next companions say, 
How does he do? what Hemee: ? shall turn 
away, 
Answering only with a lift-up bial 
Who can his fate withstaad ? 
Then shall a gasp or two, do more 
Than e’re my rhetorick could before, 
Perswade the peevish world to trouble me no 
more !”?. 
THE ADVICE.—Songe 
te 
S¢ Poor Celia once was very fair, 
A quick bewitching eye she had, 
Most neatly look’t her braided ea : 
Her dainty cheeks would make you: mad. 
Upon her lip did all the Graces play, 
And on her breast tén thousand eee lays 
» Then . 
