Set; oh then, how long a night
Shuts the eyes of our short light!
Then let amorous kisses dwell
On our lips; begin, and tell

A thousand, and a hundred score,

An hundred, and a thousand more;
'Till another thousand smother

That, and that wipe off another.
Thus, at last, when we have number'd
Many a thousand, many a hundred,
We'll confound the reckoning quite,
And lose ourselves in wild delight:
While our joys so multiply
As shall mock the envious eye.

Love's Horoscope.

LOVE, brave Virtue's younger brother,
Erst had made my heart a mother.
She consults the conscious spheres,
To calculate her young son's years:
She asks if sad or saving powers
Gave omen to his infant hours:

She asks each star that then stood by
If poor Love shall live or die.

Ah

my

heart! is that the way?

Are these the beams that rule thy day?
Thou know'st a face, in whose cach look
Beauty lays ope Love's fortune-book :
On whose fair revolutions wait

Th' obsequious motions of Love's fate.
Ah, my heart! her eyes and she
Have taught thee new astrology!

Howe'er Love's native hours were set,
Whatever starry synod met,

If those sharp rays, putting on
Points of death, bid Love begone,
(Though the heavens in council sate
To crown an uncontrolled fate;
Though their best aspects, twin'd upon
The kindest constellation,

Cast amorous glances on his birth,
And whisper'd the confederate earth

To pave his paths with all the good
That warms the bed of youth and blood;)

Love has no plea against her eye:
Beauty frowns, and Love must die.

But if her milder influence move,
And gild the hopes of humble Love;
(Though heaven's inauspicious eye
Lay black on Love's nativity;
Though every diamond in Jove's crown
Fix'd his forehead to a frown ;)
Her eye a strong appeal can give :
Beauty smiles; and Love shall live.

Epitaph upon Husband and Wife, which died and were buried together.

To these, whom Death again did wed,
This grave's the second marriage-bed.
For though the hand of Fate could force
"Twixt soul and body a divorce,

It could not sever man and wife,

Because they both liv'd but one life.
Peace, good reader, do not weep!
Peace! the lovers are asleep.

They, sweet turtles, folded lie

In the last knot that Love could tie.

[And though they lie as they were dead,
Their pillow stone, their sheets of lead;
Pillow hard, and sheets not warm,

Love made the bed, they'll take no harm.]
Let them sleep, let them sleep on,
"Till this stormy night be gone,
And th' eternal morrow dawn;
Then the curtains will be drawn,
And they waken with that light

Whose day shall never sleep in night.

The lines inclosed in brackets are in no printed edition : they were found in a MS. copy, and are perhaps not Crashaw's.

SIDNEY GODOLPHIN

Was brother to the treasurer Godolphin, " a young gentle"man of incomparable parts," says lord Clarendon, who has given him a very high character, drawn with great minuteness, in the Account of his own Life, and in the History of the Rebellion. He was born in 1610, sent to Exeter College, Oxford, 1629, where he continued seven years, and killed at the attack of Chagford in Devonshire, Jan. 1642-3. His translation of the fourth book of the Eneid, in which he was assisted by Waller, was printed in 1658, 12mo. and may be found in Dryden's Miscellanies (ed. 1716), Vol. IV. p. 134.

The following specimen was copied from a MS, in the possession of Mr. Malone, containing several small poenis by Godolphin, Waller, Carew, and others.

SONG.

OR love me less, or love me more;

Ꭱ

And play not with my liberty:

Either take all, or all restore;

Bind me at least, or set me free! Let me some nobler torture find Than of a doubtful wavering mind: Take all my peace! but you betray Mine honour too, this cruel way.