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HENRY GLAPTHORNE,

A poet who, like many of his contemporaries, seems to have

mistaken extravagance and exaggeration, for tenderness and fancy. His best composition is entitled “ Advice to a “ Friend:” it contains much good sense, and some good poetry, but it is too long for insertion here. Of his lighter pieces, the following is perhaps the least unfavourable specimen. His poems were printed in a small volume 4to. in 1639. He wrote, besides, nine plays, five of which were printed singly in 1639 and 1646,

Unclose those eye-lids, and outshine

The brightness of the breaking day!
The light they cover, is divine;

Why should it fade so soon away?
Stars vanish so, and day appears;
The sun's so drown'd i'th' morning's tears.

Oh! let not sadness cloud this beauty,

Which if you lose, you'll ne'er recover!
It is not love's, but sorrow's duty;

To die so soon for a dead lover,
Banish, oh! banish grief, and then
Our joys will bring our hopes again.

SIR JOHN SUCKLING,

Was born in 1613, and died at 28 years of age, in 1641. He

is said to have served with some distinction as a volunteer under Gustavus Adolphus; but a magnificent regiment of cavalry, which he raised in the beginning of our civil wars, and which became equally conspicuous for cowardice and finery, threw a considerable degree of ridicule on his military reputation. His four plays have little merit, but the grace and elegance of his songs and ballads, are inimitable. His works were published in 1646, 1648, 1658, 1696, &c.

SONG.

Why so pale and wan, fond lover?

Prithee, why są pale ?
Will, if looking well can't move her,

Looking ill prevail ?
Prithee, why so pale !

Why so dull and mute, young sinner?

Prithee, why so mute ?

Will, when speaking well can't win her,

Saying nothing do't?
Prithee, why so mute?

Quit, quit for shame; this will not move,

This cannot take her:
If of herself she will not love,

Nothing can make her.
The Devil take her!

SONG.

Honest lover whosoever,
If in all thy love there ever

Was one wav'ring thought, if thy flame
Were not still even, still the same ;

Know this,

Thou lov'st amiss,
And, to love true,
Thou must begin again, and love anew.

If, when she appears i' th' room,
Thou došt not quake, and art struck dumb,

And in striving this to cover
Dost not speak thy words twice over;

Know this,

Thou lov'st amiss,
And, to love true,
Thou must begin again, and love anew.

If fondly thou dost not mistake,
And all defects for graces take;

Persuad'st thyself that jests are broken,
When she hath little or nothing spoken;

Know this,

Thou lov'st amiss,
And, to love true,
Thou must begin again, and love anew.

If when thou appear'st to be within,
Thou lett'st not men ask, and ask again,

And, when thou answer'st if it be
To what was ask'd thee properly;

Know this,

Thou lov'st amiss,
And, to love true,
Thou must begin again, and love anew.

If when thy stomach calls to eat,
Thou cutt'st not fingers 'stead of meat;

And, with much gazing on her face,
Dost not rise hungry from the place;

Know this,

Thou lov'st amiss,
And, to love true,
Thou must begin again, and love anew.

If by this thou dost discover
That thou art no perfect lover;

And, desiring to love true,
Thou dost begin to love anew;

Know this,

Thou lov'st amiss,
And, to love true,
Thou must begin again, and love anew.

SONG.

"Tis now, since I sat down before

That foolish fort, a heart, (Time strangely spent!) a year and more,

And still I did my part:

Made my approaches, from her hand

Unto her lip did rise ;

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