The more his wounds, the more his might,
Love yieldeth strength in midst of pain.

Her angry eyes are great with tears,

She blames her hands, she blames her skill;

The bluntness of her shafts she fears,

And try them on herself she will.

Take heed, sweet nymph, try not thy shaft !
Each little touch will prick the heart :
Alas! thou know'st not Cupid's craft,
Revenge is joy, the end is smart.

Yet try she will, and prick some bare;

Her hands were glov'd, and next to hand Was that fair breast, that breast so rare, That made the shepherd senseless stand.

That breast she prick'd, and through that breast
Love finds an entry to her heart:
At feeling of this new-come guest
Lord! how the gentle nymph doth start.

She runs not now, she shoots no more;
Away she throws both shafts and bow:
She seeks for that she shunn'd before,
She thinks the shepherd's haste too slow.

Though mountains meet not, lovers may,
So others do, and so do they;

The god of love sits on a tree,
And laughs that pleasant sight to see.

THOMAS CAMPION.

Was a physician in the reign of James I. and author of two Masques; one presented at Whitehall, on the marriage of lord Hayes, printed 1607, 4to. and the other represented at lord Knowles's, at Cawsome-house, &c. printed 1613, 4to. The following pieces are taken from Davison's miscellany.

Of Corinna's Singing.

WHEN to her lute Corinna sings,
Her voice revives the leaden strings,
And doth in highest notes appear,
As any challeng'd echo clear:
But when she doth of mourning speak,
E'en with her sighs the strings do break.

And as her lute doth live or die,

Led by her passions, so must I:
For when of pleasure she doth sing,
My thoughts enjoy a sudden spring;
But if she do of sorrow speak,

E'en from my heart the strings do break.

Of his Mistress's Face.

AND would you see my mistress' face?
It is a flowery garden-place,
Where knots of beauty have such grace,
That all is work, and no where space.

It is a sweet delicious morn,
Where day is breeding, never born :
It is a meadow yet unshorn,
Which thousand flowers do adorn.

It is the heaven's bright reflex,
Weak eyes to dazzle and to vex:
It is th' idea of her sex

Envy of whom doth world perplex.

It is a face of death that smiles,
Pleasing, though it kill the whiles,
Where death and love in pretty wiles
Each other mutually beguiles.

It is fair beauty's freshest youth:
It is the feign'd Elysium's truth,

The spring that winter'd hearts renew'th;-
And this is that my soul pursu'th.

GEORGE SANDYS,

One of the most harmonious versifiers of his age, was the youngest son of Edwin Sandys, archbishop of York, and born at Bishop's-Thorp, 1577. He was entered at St. Mary Hall, Oxford, in 1589, but received his tuition, according to Wood, in Corpus Christi College; and in 1610 began his travels into the East, of which he published an account on his return: a work much esteemed, having passed through many editions since the first in 1615. Wood says he was "an accomplished gentleman,"-" master of se"veral languages, of a fluent and ready discourse, and "excellent comportment. He had also naturally a poetical "fancy, and a zealous inclination to all human learn"ing." He was gentleman of the privy chamber to Charles I. and intimately acquainted with the celebrated Lucius lord Falkland, who contributed two copies of verses in honour of his Tragedy and his Psalms. He died

in 1643.

His poetical version of Ovid's Metamorphoses, once much admired, was originally published in 1627, with the first book of Virgil's Æneid, and twice afterwards. His Tragedy, called "Christ's Passion," translated from Hugo Grotius, and first printed in 1640, 12mo. is much praised by Langbaine. His "Paraphrase upon the Psalmes of David, and upon the hymnes dispersed throughout the Old and New Testaments," appeared in 1636, 12mo, a book which Wood tells us King Charles " delighted " to read in, while prisoner in Carisbroke Castle." This, together with a Paraphrase upon Job, Ecclesiastes, Lamentations, &c. was reprinted in 1638, fol. and in 1676, 8vo.