EDMUND PŘESTWICH,

Author of "Hippolitus, translated out of Seneca, together "with divers other poems," 1651, 12mo. Langbaine, who mentions this work, professes never to have seen it.

C

DID

THE METEOR.

[From 9 stanzas.]

you behold that glorious star, my dear, Which shin'd but now, methought, as bright As any other child of light,

And seem'd to have as good an interest there?
How suddenly it fell, our eyes

Pursuing it through all the spacious skies,
Through which the now extended flame

Had chalk'd the way to earth, from whence it came ?

And were you not with wonder struck, to see
Those forms, which the creation had

At first in number perfect made,

Thus sometimes more, and sometimes less to be?

Or rather, in this second birth,

To see heaven copied out so near by earth, As, were it not for their own fall,

We should not know which were th' original?

Fair one, these different lights do represent
Such as pretend unto the love

Of you, of which some meteors prove,
Some stars; some high-fix'd in love's firmament,
And some, that seem as bright and fair,
More basely humble, hover in the air
Of words, and with fine dexterous art,
Do act a passion never touch'd their heart.

Yet these false glow-worm fires a while do shine
Equal to the most heaven-born flame,
And so well counterfeit the same,

That they, though almost beastly, seem divine.
But should some blind unlucky chance
Deform you any ways, or make your wants
Vie greatness with your beauty, then
They drop to their own element again.

*

A REMEDY AGAINST LOVE.

[From 8 stanzas.]

Ir thou like her flowing tresses
Which the unshorn Phoebus stain,
Think what grief thy heart oppresses,
And how every curl's a chain,
Only made to keep thee fast
Till thy sentence be o'erpast.

If thou'rt wounded by her eyes
Where thou thinkest Cupids lie,
Think thyself the sacrifice,

Those the priests that make thee die:
If her forehead beauteous show,
Think her forehead Cupid's bow.

If the roses thou hast seen

In her cheek still flourishing Argue that there dwells within

A calm and perpetual spring, Though she never us'd deceit, Believe all is counterfeit.

If her tempting voice have power
To amaze and ravish thee,

Syrens sung but to devour,

Yet they sung as well as she. O beware those poison'd tongues, That carry death in [all] their songs!

But if virtue please thee most,

And thou like her beauteous mind,

Then I give thee o'er for lost :
There no remedy I find:
Yet, if she be virtuous, then
Sure she will not murther men.

HENRY VAUGHAN,

Called the Silurist, from that part of Wales whose inhabitants were the ancient SILURES, was born on the banks of the Uske, in Brecknockshire, and entered in 1638 at Jesus College, Oxford, being then 17. He was designed for the law, but retiring to his home at the commencement of the civil wars, became eminent in the practice of physic, and was esteemed by scholars (says Wood) an ingenious person, but proud and humorous. He died in 1695. A list of his works may be seen in the Athen. Ox. Vol. II. p. 926, 7. The principal are the "Silex Scintillans" (sacred poems), second edition, 1655, 12mo. and "Olor Iscanus, a collec❝tion of some select poems and translations," 1651, 12mo. from the latter of which the following lines are taken, being perhaps, the most favourable specimen that can be selected, though even these are too much marked by quaintness and conceit.

To the best and most accomplished Couple.
[Abridged from 38 lines.]

BLESSINGS as rich and fragrant crown your heads

As the mild heaven on roses sheds,

When at their cheeks, like pearls, they wear

The clouds that court them in a tear.