SONG. SOMNUS, the humble god that dwells Hates gilded roofs, and beds of down; Lest he should sleep, and never wake. Nature, alas! why art thou so Obliged to thy greatest foe? Yet of death it bears a taste, JOHN TATHAM Appears to have been one of the city poets, and was the author of four plays; of" Fancy's Theatre," a volume of poems, printed in 1640; and of "Ostella, or the Faction "of Love and Beauty reconciled," London, 1650, 4to. a very scarce volume, though not otherwise valuable. The following specimen, taken from the latter collection, is very near being elegant. THE SWALLOW. MARK, Ostella, when the spring Then, oh then, to us will come, To our cottage, to our home, But, when the tedious winter's night Comes on, that wants both heat and light, And that his pretty music may With pleasure pass the time away, Which else perhaps might sadness bringYour guest is hoarse, and cannot sing. Acquaintance so leaves man in misery SIR EDWARD SHERBURNE. This learned translator was born in 1618, and was constant to the royal cause during the reign of Charles I. in whose armies he held the post of commissary-general of artillery. From March 1654, till October 1659, he travelled abroad with his pupil, Sir John Coventry. As a reward for his loyalty he was knighted by Charles II. in 1682: but suffered inconvenience on James II.'s abdication. His "Poems "and Translations, amorous, lusory, moral, and divine," printed in 1651, 12mo. exhibit marks of considerable genius, which, however, is not sufficiently regulated by judgment. He translated three tragedies from Seneca, viz. Medea, Troades, and Phædra and Hippolitus, and the philosophical poem of Manilius, with notes, 1675, folio. The poet Stanley was his friend and kinsman. ICE AND FIRE. NAKED love did to thine eye, Forc'd from thence, he went to rest But there met a frost so great, When poor Cupid thus (constrain'd His cold bed to leave) complain'd "Alas! what lodging's here for me, "If all ice and fire she be ?" THE SURPRISE. THERE'S no dallying with love, Though he be a child, and blind; Then let none the danger prove, Who would to himself be kind: Smile he does when thou dost play, But his smiles to death betray. Lately with the boy I sported; Love I did not, yet love feign'd; Had no mistress, yet I courted; Sigh I did, yet was not pain'd: 'Till at last this love in jest Prov'd in earnest my unrest. When I saw my fair-one first, In a feigned fire I burn'd; |