154 4 
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 Drinkwater 
 
 Some Contributions to the English Antholo^J''
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 THE BRITISH ACADEMY 
 
 WARTON LECTURE ON ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 XTTI 
 
 Some Contributions to the 
 English Anthology 
 
 (With special reference to the Seventeenth Century) 
 
 By 
 
 John Drinkwater 
 
 [From the Proceedings of the British Academy, Vol. A"\ 
 
 London 
 
 INililished for the British Academy 
 
 By Humphrey Milfonl, Oxford University Press 
 
 Amcii Corner, E.C. 
 
 Price Give Shilling net
 
 
 WARTON LECTURE ON ENGLISH POETRV 
 
 XIII 
 
 803IE CONTRIBUTIONS TO THE 
 ENGLISH ANTHOLOGY 
 
 (WITH SPECIAL REFKllEXCE TO THE SEVENTEENTH 
 
 CENTURY) 
 
 Bv JOHN DRINKWATER 
 
 Read Fel)ruary 23, 1922 
 
 ' He may at least be sure of a place in the anthologies of the future "" 
 is a reviewer's phrase that has brought comfort, I suppose, to a good 
 many poets who have not hoped for the larger things of fame. And 
 yet it is stiange, for all the diligence of the compilers, to find how 
 iiianv good poets pass with their death into what it would seem may 
 be, but for some lucky accident, permanent oblivion. Herrick publishes 
 his Hespendes in Ki-iJS, and no further edition of what is probably 
 the greatest single volume of lyrics in the language is called for until 
 1810, when John Nott of Bristol, M.D., comes forward with Select 
 Poem.s enibelli.died with ( ccasional Remarks. Andrew Marvell dies 
 unpublished, but, a little more fortimate in his posthumous fame, 
 appears in a handsome little folio in 1G81, wjiich is followed by a new 
 edition forty-Hve years later, by another fifty years later still, and 
 then he waits nearly another hundred years for the almost universal 
 industry of Dr. Grosart. JSo good a poet as Richard Corbet, with his 
 Farewell Rewards and Fair'us, appears first in HiiT, then again in a 
 surreptitious edition in 1648, and then for a third time in 1()72. In 
 1807 he is rediscovered by Octavius Gil(;hrist, and after that he 
 remains unedited until our own time; while a poet such as Rochester, 
 at his l)est a lyrist that none of them can surpass, has never from the 
 iK'ginning had his text or liis canon rescued from confusion.' These 
 j)oets are among those who, even in long [K-riods of public Tieglcct, 
 
 ' .Siiicf writiiijf tlii^, I am gl.ul t<» set- that Mr. .M(iiit;ii;n Snmriicii i- ciif.^a^cfl 
 r)i) an filitioii of KoclieHtcr. 
 
 XIII K 
 
 86025.'i
 
 2 PROCEEDINGS OF THE BRITISH ACADEMY 
 
 have never wholly escaped the attention of scholars or occasional 
 inclusion in the miscellanies, but the absence of any readily accessible 
 editions of their works has meant that over and over again one student 
 or compiler has merely relied for his knowledge or selection upon one 
 or two poems singled out by his predecessors, and this even when the 
 w^ork in hand has been a serious study and not merely a piece of easy 
 book-compiling. The ordinary hack anthologist need not be considered. 
 In nearly every case he simply steals, more or less at haphazard, from 
 the patient labours of honester men than himself. But it is remark- 
 able how, if we take our view of a poet from, say, ten standard English 
 anthologies, we may easily get a hopelessly inadequate view of his 
 work. To take two examples. Richard Barnefield is a name at least 
 known to every reader who is familiar at all with English poetry. 
 His original editions are practically unprocurable, there being in each 
 case perhaps but three or four known copies, while the Roxborough 
 reprint is by no means common, and otherwise the ordinary reader is 
 cut off from access to the full texts. Looking at these ten anthologies, 
 The Golden Treasury, The Oxford Book of English Verse, ^\'^ard"'s 
 English Poets, Beeching's Paradise of English Poetry, Mrs. MeynelPs 
 Flower of the Mind, Sir Arthur Quiller Couch's Golden Pomp, Henley's 
 English Lyrics, Mr. Massingham's Seventeenth Century English Vei'se, 
 Mr. Braithwaite's Elizabethan Verse, and, last, the frankly popular but 
 very comprehensive Book of English Poetry published by Messrs. Jack, 
 we get this result. Mr. Massingham omits Barnefield altogether, as 
 he does not come within his period; of the other nine, seven give 
 The Nightingale alone, while the other two give The Nightingale and 
 Jf Music and Szvcet Poetry Agree, and Ward adds one other sonnet. 
 This means that to all intents and purposes Barnefield is known to 
 nearly the whole English poetry reading public by one poem, and 
 that, charming as it is, not in my opinion his best. As an example 
 of the quality which is entirely unknown to the general reader, and 
 almost so to the scholar, let me quote two of Barnefield's pieces from 
 Poems in Divers Hiimors published by John Jaggard in 1598 : 
 
 AN EPITAPH UPON THE DEATH OF HIS AUNT, 
 MISTRESSE ELIZA BB:TH SKRYMSHER 
 
 Loe here beholde the certaine Ende, of euery lining wight: 
 
 No Creature is secure from Death, for Death will haue his Right. 
 
 He spareth none : both rich and poore, both young and olde must die ; 
 
 So fraile is flesh, so short is Life, so sure Mortalitie. 
 
 When first the Bodye Hues to Life, the soule first dies to sinne : 
 
 And they that loose this earthly Life, a heavenly Life shall winne.
 
 CONTUIBUTIONS TO THE ENGLISH ANTHOLOGY 3 
 
 It" thev Hue well: as well she liv'tl, that lyeth \'iKler heere ; 
 Whoso Vertuous Life to all the Worlcle, most plainly did appeere. 
 Good to the poore, friend to the rieh, and toe to no Degree : 
 A Pn sident of modest Life, and peerelesse Chastitie. 
 Who lolling more, Wlio more belov"d, of eucrie honest mvnde ? 
 Who more to Ilospitalitie, and Clemeneie inclinde 
 Then she ? that being buried here, lyes wrapt in Earth below : 
 From whence wee came, to whom wee must, and bee as shee is now, 
 A Clodd of Clay : though her pure soule in endlesse Blisse doeth rest ; 
 loving all loy, the Place of Peace, prepared for the blest : 
 ^Vhere holy Angells sit and sing, before the King of Kings ; 
 Not mynding worldly Vanities, but onely heavenly Things. 
 Vnto which lov, Vnto which Blisse, Vnto which Place of Pleasure, 
 (jod graunt that wee may come at last, finioy that heauenly Treasure. 
 AN'hich to obtaine, to Hue as shee hath done let us endeuor ; 
 That we may hue with Christ liimselfe (above) that Hues for ever. 
 
 A COMPARISON OF THK LIFE OF MAN 
 
 Mans life is well compared to a feast, 
 Eurnisht with choice of all Varietie : 
 To it comes Tyme ; and as a bidden guest 
 Hee sets him downe, in Pompe and Maiestie ; 
 The three-folde Age of Man, the Waiters bee. 
 Then with an earthen voyder (made of clay) 
 Comes Death, Sc takes the table clean away. 
 
 Mv other example is James Shirley. All ten anthologists give us 
 The Glories of our Blood and State, with the exception of Mr. 
 Massingham, who omits it on the plea that it is too well known for 
 inclusion, six add Victorious Men of Earth No More, four add the 
 hymn O Fly inij Soul, three You Virgins That Did Late Despair^ 
 two The Garden, while Ward and Mr. Massingham e;.ch add one 
 individual selection This means that Shirley's total representation 
 in ten serious anthologies is by seven poems, four of which only make 
 seven appearances between them. Of these seven j)oems, four are 
 taken from the Plavs or Mascpies, and only three, which three make 
 l)ut six appearances ix-'twcen them, are taken from Shirley's principal 
 lyric production, the Poems of Ib'tG, a volume of whicii the luturc 
 aiitiiologiht might take further notice. Here is a sond)rc but linelv 
 lyrical fragment to tempt him : 
 
 rilK I'ASSINC; MKLL 
 
 Hark, liow ciiimes the Passing bell, 
 There's no musick to a knell; 
 All the otiier sounds we heai-, 
 I'latter, and but clu-at otn* car.
 
 4 PROCEEDINGS OF THE BRITISH ACADEMY 
 
 This doth put us still in mind 
 That our flesh must be resign''d, 
 And a general silence made, 
 The world be muffled in a shade ; 
 He that on his pillow lies 
 Tear-enbalmed before he dies. 
 Carries like a sheep his life, 
 To meet the sacrificer's knife, 
 And for eternity is prest. 
 Sad Bell- weather to the rest. 
 
 It is true that in some cases the anthologist could plead that in 
 following the general choice he was also representing the poet at 
 his indisputable best. If we want to know what, say, Lovelace and 
 Waller were as poets, we must read Tell me not. Sweet, I am iinkhid, 
 and When Love with uncotifined Wings, and Go lovely Rose, and it 
 would be an affectation for the compiler to pretend that any other 
 choice could be within reasonable distance of matching these. But 
 with poets like Barnefield and Shirley, and there are many of them, it 
 is another matter. And we find over and over again even first-rate 
 writers whose general reputations rest on two or three well-known 
 pieces because the compilers of anthologies have failed to familarize 
 themselves with the original sources. And if this is so with poets 
 who, like Shirley, because of the general volume of their w'ork, cannot 
 escape some attention, what is likely to happen to those less fortunate, 
 and doubtless on the whole less admirable ones, who, publishing like 
 Herrick perhaps in 1648, have no Dr. Nott in 1810 nor Dr. Grosart 
 in 1870. 
 
 It is as a slight contribution to the answer to this question that the 
 present paper is offered. The history of English poetry, of which, I 
 suppose, the father may be said to be Thomas Warton, is as likely as 
 other histories always to remain incomplete. The explorer of the by- 
 ways of English verse knows how often he can defeat the indices of 
 even so learned and exhaustive scholars as Doctors Courthope and 
 Saintsbury. This paper makes no pretence to learning of the standard 
 which modern editorship has made prevalent at every seat of learning 
 in the country. The minutiae of research into questions of texts and 
 sources may be said to have become a special profession requiring a 
 most exact and arduous training. That is not my job. I come before 
 you as the most amateur of scholars, but, having all my life read 
 English poetry as widely as I could, I have for some time amused 
 myself by collecting any books of English verse which bore unfamiliar, 
 or, better still, unknown names. In offering a garland from these 
 little books, mostly of the seventeenth century, while I cannot claim
 
 CONTRIBUTIONS TO THE ENGLISH ANTHOLOGY 5 
 
 tliat in every case the poet in (juestion is one unknown even to the 
 most diligent student. I am sure that they all have so small a reputa- 
 tion through the body of their work as to amount to nothing at all, 
 and as a group they may be said, with but little exaggeration, to have 
 escaped the antliologists altogether. For some time I had intended to 
 make a small anthology toveriui'- this trround mvself, but then I 
 realized that for the do/en or twenty discoveries that I might n)ake 
 there were ten tiines as manv that I should miss, and it seemed better 
 in this wav to make a few notes iu the hope that other readers miglit 
 from time to time do the same thing, until something really compre- 
 hensive in the way of material might be ready for the perfect compiler 
 when he arrives. In most cases these poets are not even knowu to the 
 historians, and their onlv monument is inclusion in such publications 
 as the splendid Grolicr Club bibliograjihy, mention in which is a 
 guarantee to the bookseller rather than to the critic, although it 
 should be said that though that pul^lication is clearly bibliographical 
 in intention, it had the great advantage of being supervised by Mr. 
 Beverly Chew, who is not only a most distinguished collector but also 
 a man of the finest literary taste and judginent. 
 
 With one of my unknown poets, John Colloj), I have already dealt 
 at length in a separate paper. He happens to be a poet whose little 
 book, Poex'ia Rcdivivci, 1656, is of considerable quality throughout, 
 whereas in manv cases one finds only a snatch here and there which 
 merits remembrance : 
 
 The house is swept 
 A\'hich sin so long foul kept : 
 The peny 's found for which the loser wept. 
 
 And purgM with tears, 
 God's Image re-appears. 
 The peny truly shews whose stamp it bears. 
 
 Colloj) could write so, and often, but the ])aper I'eferred to contains 
 a good many examples of his work, and he need not be considered 
 further here. I now propose to present my gatherings with as little 
 in the wav of design as may be found in the occasional note-book. 
 
 In 1662 there appeared a volume entitled Flamma sine Funio : or 
 Poems -ic'ithont Fict'ion.s^ bv It. W., being a collection of miscellaneous 
 [joems including at the end J Lookiu<f -Glass for the s'nk, or The Causes 
 oJ'Syiiiptoitis orS'iirns of Several Diseases with Tlie'irCinrs mid Riiiietl'ies, 
 being the complete plivsician in aiiuisiiig doggerel. Mv copy of the 
 book from the lliitli Lil)rai\ c()me> IVoiii flic 1 Icber Collection and 
 contiiins a note in Heber\ writinir to the ellcct that 11. ^^^, who as 
 we le.'irn from fhc signed Preface was Rowland Watkvns, was jiiinister
 
 6 PROCEEDINGS OF THE BRITISH ACADEMY 
 
 of Baru in Brecknockshire. He is unknown bo Corser, Collins, and 
 Courthope, but he is to be found in the Bibliotheca Anglo -Poetica. 
 So far as I can discover, except for occasional mention in a catalogue, 
 his is to-day an entirely dead name, and I have discovered no critical 
 reference to him. Here are a few examples of his work : 
 
 THE BIBLE 
 
 Much books I have perus'd, but I protest 
 
 Of books the sacred Bible is the best. 
 
 Some books may nmch of humane Learning boast 
 
 But here's the Language of the Holy Ghost, 
 
 Hence we draw living water, here we do 
 
 (Observe the Patriarchs lives, and doctrine too : 
 
 Here Christ himself directs us how to pray, 
 
 And to the Gate of Heaven chalks the way. 
 
 Here is the salve, which gives the blind their sight, 
 
 All darknesse to expel, here is the light : 
 
 Here is strong meat for men ; and milk to feed 
 
 The weaker babes, which more perfection need ; 
 
 Cast off erroneous pamphlets, wanton rhymes. 
 
 All feigned books of love ; which cheat the times ; 
 
 And read this book of life ; those shall appear 
 
 With Christ in Heaven which are written here. 
 
 THE WEDDING GARMENT 
 
 Faith is the wedding garment, lind within, 
 
 With love, without foul spots, or staines of sin. 
 
 Humility is the most decent lace, 
 
 And patient hope, which doth this garment grace. 
 
 Without this royal robe no guest is fit 
 
 To sup, or at the Lords own table sit. 
 
 THE WISH 
 
 Hoc est summum inei, caputque voti ; 
 
 A little house, a quiet wife. 
 Sufficient food to nourish life. 
 Most perfect health, and free from harm, 
 Convenient cloths to keep me warm. 
 The liberty of foot, and mind. 
 And grace the ways of God to find. 
 This is the summe of my desire, 
 Until I come unto heavens quire.
 
 CONTRIBUTIONS TO THE ENGLISH ANTHOLOGY 7 
 
 li'ON rilK FAIR AM) \ IMinors (iENTLEWOAFAN MRS. M. S. 
 
 I'llAT LAN SING EXCKLLENTLV 
 
 Gratior est virtus venieiis o corporo pulcliro. 
 
 When first I did this \'ir<rin spie, 
 The object pleas'd my serious eye : 
 But when I lieard her sing, I swear, 
 The tnusick took both heart and ear. 
 Those inward vertues please us best, 
 Which are with outward beauty drest ; 
 And 'tis a comely thing to find 
 In bodies fair, a fairer mind : 
 The Harp, the Viol hither bring. 
 And Birds, musitians of the Spring; 
 VVhen she doth sing, those nuist be mute, 
 They are but Cymbals to the Lute : 
 She with her Notes doth rise, and fall. 
 More sweetly than the Nightingal : 
 God in her pious heart keeps place, 
 Some Angel in her voice and face. 
 
 UPON THE MOST BEAUTIFUL, HOSPITABLE, AND INGENUOUS 
 GENTLE^^OMAN MRS. BLANCH MORGAN OF THE THEROA^' 
 
 Some fraii;rant flowers the smell, some trees the sight 
 Do nuich content, some pearls are wondrous bright : 
 'I'here's not so swee.t a flower, so fair a tree. 
 So pure a gemme in all the world, as she : 
 
 Some Ladies humble are, and some are wise ; 
 Some chast, some kind, some fair to please the eyes; 
 All vertues do in her like stars appear, 
 And make a glorious constellation there. 
 
 THE MER( IFUL SAMARITAINE 
 
 No balm from Gilead, no IMiysitian can 
 
 Heal me, but Christ the true Samaritan. 
 
 When I am sick, and when my wounds are foul. 
 
 He hath liis oyle and wine to dense my soul. 
 
 Mv sins the tiiieves, which woinided me, ha\c bin. 
 
 Help, I.,<)rd, conduct me to thv peaceful Inn. 
 
 THE (;ARI)ENER 
 
 Slie sujiposiug liini to Itc the (iardeiuT, said unto hiui, 
 
 .Foil. JO. 
 
 Mary prevents the day; she rox' to weep. 
 
 And see the bed, where Jesus lav aslcej). 
 
 She found out whom she souiilif ; but dofii nol know 
 
 Her Masters face; lie i^ the (iaidcncr now.
 
 8 PROCEEDINGS OF THE BRITISH ACADEMY 
 
 This Gardener Edens Garden did compose, 
 
 For which the chiefest Plants and Flowers he chose. 
 
 He took great care to have sweet Rivers run 
 
 T'enrich the ground, where he his work begun. 
 
 He is the Gardener still, and knoweth how 
 
 To make the Lilies and the Roses grow. 
 
 He knows the time to set, when to remove 
 
 His living plants to make them better prove. 
 
 He hath his pruning knife, when we grow wild, 
 
 To tame our nature, and make us more mild : 
 
 He curbs his dearest children: when 'tis need, 
 
 He cuts his choycest Vine, and makes it bleed. 
 
 He weeds the poisonous herbs, which clog the ground. 
 
 He knows the rotten hearts, he knows the sound. 
 
 The blessed Virgin was the pleasant bower, 
 
 This Gardener lodg'd in his appointed hour: 
 
 Before his birth his Garden was the womb, 
 
 In death he in a Garden chose his Tomb. 
 
 PROVERBIAL SENTENCES 
 
 AVho hath the better game, doth fear the end : 
 
 Who hath the worse, doth hope the game may mend. 
 
 • ••••••••■•a 
 
 Who in the glass doth oft behold her face, 
 Hath little care to dress her dwelling place. 
 
 When once the tree is fallen, which did stand, 
 Then every man will take his axe in hand. 
 
 No Church yard is so hansome any where. 
 As will straight move one to be buried there. 
 
 Here is great talk of Turk and Pope : but I 
 
 Find that my neighbour doth more hurt than they. 
 
 A disappointing poet is Robert Wild, whose Iter Boreale was first 
 published in 1660. That Wild should have escaped the critics and 
 enthusiasts is not surprising, since as a poet he is continually within 
 a word of an achievement that he as continually misses. I mention 
 him here merely on account of a bibliographical point in connexion 
 with his one lovely moment of inspiration. Mr. Braithwaite, in his 
 Book of Restoration Verse, gives his Epitaph for a Godly Mans Tomb 
 without any proper indication as to its source, and Mr. Massingham, 
 whose Seventeenth Century English Verse is on the whole a very 
 satisfying and original piece of work, gives the same Epitaph as coming 
 from the Iter Boreale of 1660. In fact it was not in the first edition 
 of 1660 nor the second of 1661 nor the third of 1665, but it made its
 
 CONTRIBUTIONS TO THE ENGLISH ANTHOLOGY 9 
 
 first appearance in the fourth edition dated 1668. Once elsewhere 
 in a single line, 
 
 Newgate or Hell were Heav'n if Christ were there . . . 
 
 AVild promises to satisfy expectations. But otherwise it is in the 
 Epitaph^ and here alone, that he proves himself, for one glorious breath, 
 a poet. I know of hardly any other case of a man courting the muse 
 so constantly with no favour given, and then coming into the full 
 presence for one marvellous moment, to return to the darkness forever : 
 
 AN EPITAIMI FOR A GODLV MANS TOMB 
 
 Here lies a piece of Christ, a Star in Dust ; 
 
 A Vein of Gold, a China Dish that must 
 
 Be us'd in Heav'n, when God shall Feast the Just. 
 
 Had Wild done any considerable body of work at that j)itch he would 
 have been among the great lyrists. As it is he is dust, with his one 
 little jewel to catch the eye of a very occasional traveller in passing. 
 His second best is the not charmless douiiei'el : 
 
 Alas, poor scholar 
 AMiither wilt thou go ? 
 
 which, however, is of little importance. 
 
 Another poet almost, although not entirelv, unknown to the 
 anthologists is Edward Sherburne, whose Salinacis, Lijrian and Sylvia, 
 Forsaken Lyd'ia, The Rape of Iliilvn, a Coimncnt thereon^ with scverall 
 otJtcr Poems and Translations, was published in 1G51. Mr. Braithwaite, 
 whose anthological range is an unusually wide one, gives seven of his 
 lyrics, and Mr. Massingham one. But it remained for Professor 
 Grierson, in iiis Metapltij.sical Lijrics and Poems of the Seventeenth 
 Century, to re-publish the lovely Ivric The Prond Aefft/ptian Qiurn. 
 I may boast to myself privately that I had the poem in my note-book 
 before Professor Grierson's book appeared, and he will, I am sure, not 
 grudge me the pleasure of following him in drawing attention to his 
 discovery in the hope that by this Sherburne may find yet two or three 
 more rcfuiers : 
 
 \\i» ^iii: w Asiii:i) Ills I i;i:i' w nii iiioii ikakks, and \\'iim-;i) 
 
 iHKM Wnil rilK IIAIKS OF HKK IIKAI) 
 
 The proud .Egyptian (»)u(rii, her Uoiiiau (iuesl, 
 ('Fexpress lier Love in i light of State, and I'leasure) 
 With Pearl dissoJvM in (iold, did feast. 
 Both I'ood, and 'iVi-jusure.
 
 10 PROCEEDINGS OF THE BRITISH ACADEMY 
 
 And now (dear Lord !) thy Lover, on the fair 
 And silver Tables of thy Feet, behold ! 
 Pearl in her Tears, and in her Hair, 
 Offers thee Gold. 
 
 Another poet who has hitherto received far less attention than is his 
 due is Thomas Flatnmn,^ whose Poems and Songs first appeared in 
 1674. Quite lately Professor Saintsbury has given a full edition 
 of his work in the third volume of his admirable Caroline Poets, so 
 that the fame of 
 
 There's an experienc't Rebel, Time, 
 
 And in his Squadrons Poverty ; 
 There ""s Age that brings along with him 
 
 A terrible Artillery. . . . 
 
 and many other such fortunate things can no longer be said to be in 
 obscurity. 
 
 Mathew Stevenson, whose Occasions Off-spring or Poems tipon 
 Severall Occasions was published in 1654, appears, on the other hand, 
 apart from an occasional bibliographical reference, to have escaped 
 the attention of anybody at all. His book is pleasant reading always, 
 and one longish poem. At the Florists Feast in Norwich, is full of 
 colour and delight. It is too long to quote in full, but here is the 
 concluding Song, which in itself ought to give Stevenson his place in 
 the collections : 
 
 THE SONG 
 
 Stay ! O stay ! ye winged howers. 
 
 The windes that ransack East, and West, 
 
 Have breathd peifumes upon our flowers, 
 
 More fragrant then the Phoenix nest : 
 
 Then stay ! O stay sweet howers ! that yee. 
 
 May witnesse that, which time nere see. 
 
 Stay a while, thou featherd Syth-man, 
 
 And attend the Queen of flowers. 
 Show thy self for once a blyth man. 
 Come dispence with a few howers : 
 Else we our selves will stay a while. 
 And make our pastime. Time beguile. 
 
 This day is deignd to Floras use, 
 If yee will revell too, to night 
 Weel presse the Grape, to lend ye juyce, 
 Shall make a deluge of delight: 
 
 And when yee cant hold up your heads, 
 Our Garden shall afford ye beds. 
 
 ^ Flatniau wasj of course^ well known to Mr. Bullen. But tlien^ what poet 
 was not?
 
 CONTRIBUTIONS TO THE ENGLISH ANTHOLOGY 11 
 
 A poet even less known than Stevenson, if that were possible, is 
 Daniel Cuchnore, the author of Ev\oSia or A Prayer-Song. Being 
 Sacred Poems on The History (if the Birth and Passion of our Blessed 
 Saviour, published in 1655. His nuise is a little laboured, and his 
 lyric riiijfhts generally more notable for length than for certainty and 
 trrace. Nevertheless he sometimes achieves a dark l)eautv of iiis own, 
 as in the following on a text from Mark : 
 
 If could some Delius with divided iiands 
 Sound the Seas depth, and on his souls recorder 
 Imprint the wracks, huge rocks, and heaps of sands, 
 Which there lie scatterM in confus'd disorder: 
 This could he do, by Nature''s strength or art, 
 Yet none could sound the bottom of the heart. 
 
 2 
 
 Should >()n!e Ship-master make's fore-split tiie Probe 
 Of Nature's secrets, and so bring to view 
 Land to make up a perfect earthly Globe, 
 Which Drake nor Kit Columbus never knew : 
 Yet, as in the great world, so in his own. 
 He nuist confers there's yet much land unknown. 
 
 The heart's a Sea for depth, like Sodom-lake, 
 
 Dead, thick, and gross; in it will sink no good: 
 
 Th" hearts land's unknown; wherein what monsters make 
 
 Their hides and dens, few yet have understood. 
 
 The centre may be purest earth ; yet th"' heart 
 
 The bodies centre \s the corru[)ter part. 
 
 Our heart-strings arc the cords of vanity; 
 Their caverns are the devil's lurking-holes; 
 No fit Triangle for tlic Trinity ; 
 All liabitation more fit for moles: 
 
 Their cauls the veils of dauui'd Ilxpocrisie. 
 
 Thus is sunrd up man's wretched .Majestie. 
 
 5 
 
 If thus the Sun within our (irinainen!. 
 
 Into a Meteor de<renerate ; 
 
 If thus the King within our continent. 
 
 Ix'fs sin and hist usurp iiis lloyal state: 
 If thus corrupted l)e the bodies liavcn. 
 How shall we m.inchets be prepard for heaven)'
 
 12 PROCEEDINGS OF THE BRITISH ACADEIVIY 
 
 6 
 
 Whe'er Hell be in th^eartli's centre, I suspend ; 
 But in man's centre's coucli'd an Hell of sin : 
 Nor do so many lines to tli' centre tend, 
 As in a M'icked heart fiends make their Inne : 
 
 Which yet most know no more, then can be found 
 Where Arethusa windes beneath the ground. 
 
 Lord, shew me in the Mirrour of thy Law 
 The horrour of my heart by bright reflection : 
 In that thy Glass, there falshood is nor flaw : 
 Though wickedly some scorn its true direction, 
 
 And Avhip the Tutor for his discipline ; 
 
 Yet Lord direct me by that Glass of thine. 
 
 8 
 
 Oh daign my heart with graces to perfume. 
 And th'rowly purge it from each noisome vapor, 
 Whose rank infection choaks each neighboring room. 
 And strives to damp my souFs aspiring tapor. 
 
 O make my heart-strings. Lord, thy cords of love ; 
 
 So mine according to thy heart shall pro\e. 
 
 In 1638 was published Kalendar'mm, Hnmanae Vifac. The Kalender 
 of Mans Life. The volume is a charmingly produced one, embellished 
 with wood-cuts, and consists of reflective poems on the changes of the 
 year, done in both Latin and English verse. The author was Robert 
 Farley, again a poet to-day wholly unknown to fame beyond a 
 collector's note here and there. The following Spring piece, re- 
 miniscent in its verse of the poet of Everyman^ called A prill, or Mans 
 Iifancie, is an example of many that should have brought him better 
 luck : 
 
 Thine Infant (Lord) to be I crave, 
 Let not my gray haires sinne to grave. 
 My soule doth cry, still thou it Lord 
 With milke of thy eternall Word ; 
 Author of grace, nurse grace in me, 
 So I at length shall strengthened be. 
 Clense me from first and second guilt, 
 Onely thou canst (Lord) if thou wilt ; 
 Then shall I be a Dennizon 
 There, where uncleannesse commeth none. 
 Let not Hells Siren lull asleepe 
 My soule to drowne it in the deepe; 
 Lord make it watch for Ileav'ns joyes 
 Regarding nothing worldly toyes.
 
 CONTRIBUTIONS TO THE ENGLISH ANTHOLOGY 13 
 
 Behold my soiile rock't too and fro, 
 Doth crv for fearc and cannot Q-oe ; 
 Now least instornie it drowned be, 
 Take it into the shi}) with Thee. 
 So shall Thou thinke me to be thine. 
 And I shall thinke thy kin'^dome mine ; 
 So shall my soule thy mercies prove 
 And learne thv mercies how to love. 
 
 Mr. Braithwaite and INIr. Massingham give examples, the former 
 tiiree, the latter one, of John Hall, whose Poems was published at 
 Cambridge in IG-iG, and reprinted in Caroline Poets. Both these 
 editors give what is perhaps on the whole his best poem. The Call., 
 but Mr. Braithwaite"'s other selections are not, I think, the best that 
 could be made. Otherwise I do not find him quoted anywhere, 
 although here, as in other cases, I am naturally prepared to find that 
 in the great field of poetical research references have escaped me. 
 In any case Hall, like most of these poets, has only been discovered in 
 these two hundred vears by lucky accident or the rarest erudition 
 such as Professor Saintsburv's. His work is full of charming touches, 
 although he seldom brings off a poem completely. This opening 
 of rfie Chnstall. for example, is a lovely but unfulfilled promise : 
 
 This Christall here 
 
 That shines so clear. 
 And carri's in its womb a little day ; 
 
 Once hammerd will appear 
 Impure as dust, as dark as clay. 
 
 When, however, our })erfect anthology is compiled, this little book will 
 have to be examined carefully, as the following example will show : 
 
 HOMK TKAVELL 
 
 What need I travell, since I may 
 
 Moic choiser wonders here survay ? 
 
 ^Vhat need I Tire for purple seek 
 
 \Vhen I may find it in a cheek ? 
 
 Or sack the Eastern shores, there lies 
 
 More jjrccious Diamonds in her eyes? 
 
 \\ hut need I dig IVru for Oare 
 
 When every hair of her yields more ? 
 
 Or toile for (iunnnes in Iiuha 
 
 Since she can breath more rich tlien they.' 
 
 Or ransack Africk, theie will be 
 
 On either hand more Ivory? 
 
 But look within, all Vertues that 
 
 Each nation would appropriate,
 
 14 PROCEEDINGS OF THE BRITISH ACADEMY 
 
 And with the glory of them rest, 
 Are in this map at large exprest ; 
 That who N\ould travell here might know 
 The little world in Folio. 
 
 There are not only poets whose claim to some brief attention rests 
 on a stray lyric or two, but even the more difficult cases of men whose 
 good things, even in short poems, lie surrounded by mediocrity. 
 Alexander Ross, for example, whose Mel Heliconmm : oi\ Poeticall 
 Honey i gathered out of the weeds of Parnassus ^^^vhWahedi in 1642, will, 
 I think, yield no completely satisfactory poem to the most diligent 
 search, can yet not infrequently set all our expectations agog by such 
 felicities as ' * 
 
 We^'e all in Atalanta's case, 
 
 AVe run apace, 
 Untill our wandring eyes behold 
 
 The glittVing gold : 
 And then Ave lose in vanity 
 
 Our race, and our virginity 
 
 and 
 
 Who glory in your golden hair. 
 And in smooth Alabaster skins ; 
 And think with Swans you may compare 
 In whitenesse, that your cheeks and chins 
 Can match white Lillies, and 
 Vermilion. 
 Yet think upon 
 The flower that 's in your hand. 
 
 Again, to turn to our perfect anthology, this particular problem 
 will be greatly intensified for the compiler when he passes beyond the 
 seventeenth into the eighteenth century, that long smooth poetical 
 waste-land in which lie hidden all sorts of treasures for the finding, 
 apart from the few that have already become common property. So 
 early as 1692 we have a little volume. Poems on Several Occasions, by 
 Thomas Fletcher, written, as the author's Preface informs us, wlien 
 the author was hardly out of his 'teens, and for the most part without 
 any merit but that of a common precocity. But suddenly in the 
 middle of the book we come across Content, A Pastoral Dialogue, witli 
 passages as good as this : 
 
 Damon. Some wish, and see their Flocks increase ; 
 They gain Wealth, but lose their Peace : 
 Folds enlarged enlarge their Care ; 
 Who have much, for much must fear : 
 Others see their Flocks decay ; 
 AVith their Flocks they pine away.
 
 CONTRIBUTIONS TO THE ENGLISH ANTHOLOGY 15 
 
 The Shepherd, who would happv be. 
 Must not seek Causes for his Joy ; 
 Must not for Pretenees tarrv : 
 But be unreasonably merry. 
 
 It" tuneful Birds salute the Spring', 
 
 From the Birds I learn to sing; 
 
 If the Heavens laugh a while, 
 
 From the Heav'ns I learn to smile : 
 
 But if Mists obseure the I)av, 
 
 And blaek Clouds fright the Sun away ; 
 
 I never dread the angry Skv ; 
 
 Why should I think it frowns on me ? 
 
 • ,, :" • •,,. • • • • [I] 
 
 'Ihiiik on the lime, when I shall be 
 From Clouds and Storms for ever free ; 
 FlacM in Elysium ; where, they say, 
 Blest Ghosts enjoy Eternal Day, 
 Paternal Spring ; where, all the year, 
 The Fields their freshest Honours wear. 
 
 In vain the sullen Heavens scowl, 
 Storms and Tempest round me howl ; 
 I make fair Weather in my Soul. 
 
 Before endinj; this momentarv dii^ression into a later ajje, I should 
 like to (juote two trifles from another of the innumerable Poems on 
 Severall Occa.'i'ions, this time published in 1735, the author John 
 Hughes, the friend of Addison and Steele, and the dramatist of The 
 Siege of Dai/iiisnts, a very far from negligible play : 
 
 .SONNET 
 (From the Frencli) 
 
 I die with too transporting Joy, 
 
 If she I love rewards my Fire; 
 If SI e's inexoi-ably Coy, 
 
 With loo much Fassion I expire. 
 
 No Way the Fates afford to shun 
 
 'I'he cruel Torment I endure; 
 Since I am doomM to be undone 
 
 By the Disease, or by the Cure. 
 
 S()N(; 
 rHK FAIR IllAVKLLKIt 
 
 In young Astrca's sparkling Eye, 
 Ilesistiess I^)vc Ims (ix\l liis 'IMirone ; 
 A thousand Lovers bleeding lie 
 l''or Her, with Wounds they fear to own.
 
 16 PROCEEDINGS OF THE BRITISH ACADEMY 
 
 While the coy Beauty speeds her Flight 
 To distant Groves from whence she came ; 
 So Lightning vanishes from Sight, 
 But leaves the Forest in a Flame ! 
 
 Here is at least an elegance which we might expect from a writer who 
 tells us in one of his Essays that ' A plain unletter''d man is always 
 more agreeable Company, than a Fool in several Languages \ 
 
 I may, perhaps, here ask a question in the hope that some eighteenth- 
 century expert may be able to throw light on a curious little textual 
 problem. Locker- Lampson in his Lyia Elegantiariivi gives this lovely 
 lyric : 
 
 THE WHITE ROSE 
 
 Sent by a Yorkist Gentleman to his Lancastrian Mistress. 
 
 If this fair rose oifend thy sight. 
 
 Placed in thy bosom bare, 
 'Twill blush to find itself less white. 
 
 And turn Lancastrian there. 
 
 But if thy ruby lip it spy, — 
 
 As kiss it thou mayst deign, — 
 With envy pale 'twill lose its dye, 
 
 And Yorkist turn again. 
 
 Locker-Lampson strangely ascribes this to James Somerville, whose 
 dates he gives as 1692 to 1742. There seems to be no authority for 
 bringing such a James Somerville into being, and there is no doubt 
 that William Somervile, 1677, or thereabouts, to 1742, is meant. 
 And, in fact, in Occasional Poems, published in 1727, by the author 
 of The Chase, there is a poem entitled Presenting to a Lady a White 
 Rose and a Red, on the Tenth of June, five stanzas in length, the last 
 three of which are poor, with this opening : 
 
 If this pale rose offend your Sight, 
 
 It in your bosom wear; 
 'Twill blush to find itself less white, 
 
 And turn Lancastrian there. 
 
 But, Celia, should the Red be chose, 
 
 With gay Vermilion bright ; 
 "Twou'd sicken at each Blush that glows, 
 
 And in Despair turn White. 
 
 One almost wants to make a composite of the two versions, and it 
 would be interesting to know Locker-Lampson's authority for his text. 
 He makes no reference to the poem in his notes. Before leaving 
 Somervile I should like to give this jest from his Moral Fables :
 
 CONTRIBUTIONS TO THE ENGLISH ANTHOLOGY 17 
 
 THE MORAL TO A FABLE, 'THE OYSTER' 
 
 Ye men ot" Norfolk, and of Wales, 
 
 Erom this learn connnon Sense ; 
 Nor thrust your Neighbours into Jayls, 
 
 Eor ev'rv slight Offence. 
 
 Danish those Vermin of Debate, 
 
 That on your Substance feed ; 
 The Knaves who now are servM in Plate, 
 
 Wou'd starve, if Fools agreed. 
 
 In aildition to the acknowledged and original work of these poets, 
 and many like tliein, there are the innnense fields of the Translations 
 and tlie poetical Miscellanies in which to go treasure-hunting. The 
 .Miscellanies themselves still offer wide and profitable opportunity for 
 research. ]\Ir. liullen and others have done much, but there are still 
 volumes, such as one which I have in my possession, called A^i^ze* Court 
 So7igs and Poems, l)y R. \'. Gent, who is supposed by the cataloguers 
 to be Robert \'eele, which are full of delights and riddles. I am 
 approaching the end of my allotted time, and, in any case, I should 
 be very hesitant to venture into these very tricksy regions of specula- 
 tion. Each of us, as we follow our own reading, may make a lucky 
 attribution here and there, but to sort any of these volumes out into 
 clear order would need (|ualifications not mine. Mere guess-work 
 l)rinfrs no enliuhteninent with it, and to indulge in it would mean that 
 one could onlv approach one's audience something in the mood of the 
 Printer of Richard Fanshawe's II Pastor Fido in the second issue of 
 1 648, who addressed his reader thus : 
 
 • Header, 
 
 Thou wilt meet in the .Vdditiouall Poems with many literall 
 Errours, and in Pastor Eido with some, besides the two noted at the 
 end thereof. It will be easie for Thee, with thy judgment and 
 t'ood heed to rcctilie all as thou goest along. I beseech thee doe it 
 to salve mv c redit with him that set me a work. \Vho am of Those 
 that had rather cmifesse their faidts, than mend them. 
 
 Earewell.'' 
 
 In reading through such poems as these that have been here 
 considered, one is struck anew with the innnense wisdom of Words- 
 worth's remark that 'Poetry is emotion recollected in Iraiujuillity \ 
 These poets, we may b(.' sure, wen- most of them passionate, heady 
 people, troubled and shaken by life and their own character. And 
 vet in reading tlirough their verses all the sniollu'r has gone, and wc 
 move through clear and traii(|uil, but none the less exhilarating, airs.
 
 18 PROCEEDINGS OF THE BRITISH ACADEMY 
 
 Indeed it is this kind of tranquillity which is the most bracing of all 
 conditions. Here is to be found the true balance of form. As 
 William Habington, the poet of Casfa?'a, said : 
 
 ' He hath by a liberall education beene softned to civility ; for 
 that rugged honesty some rude men professe, is an indigested Chaos ; 
 which may containe the seedes of goodnesse, but it wants forme and 
 order.' 
 
 And by way of Habington we may, before closing, make a brief return 
 to the seventeenth century, which has been chiefly our concern. 
 Habington, on the whole, has been dealt fairly with by the antho- 
 logists, but his book contains many pieces worth remembering besides 
 Ye hlusMng Virgins happy are, and When I Survey the bright 
 Celestial Sphere, by which he is usually represented ; this, for 
 example, Upon the Thought of Age and Death, which I take from the 
 third edition of 1639, as having at one point a better text than the 
 first edition of 1634 : 
 
 Tlie breath of time shall blast the flowry Spring, 
 Which so perfumes thy cheekc, and with it bring 
 So darke a mist, us shall eclipse the light 
 Of thy faire eyes, in an eternall night. 
 Some melancholly chamber of the earth, 
 (For that like Time devoures whom it gave breath) 
 Thy beauties shall entombe, while all who ere 
 Lov'd nobly, offer up their sorrowes there. 
 But I whose griefe no formall limits bound, 
 Beholding the darke caverne of that ground, 
 Will there immure myselfe. And thus I shall 
 Thy mourner be, and my owne funerall. 
 Else by the weeping magicke of my verse, 
 Thou hadst revived to triumph o're thy hearse. 
 
 In conclusion, a word of Joshua Sylvester, known to fame, that 
 strange public that so often reads so little, as the translator of Du 
 Bartas. He appears in a great number of anthologies with the lovely 
 Sonnet Were I as base as is the lowly plain, the original appearance 
 of which I have been unable to trace in any of his books that have 
 been accessible to me. Otherwise he has, I think, not been called 
 upon by the compilers at all. And yet there is a very attractive fat 
 little volume, or rather volumes, since a small group of these are 
 nearly always found together, of which the chief titles are The 
 Parliament of Vertues Royal, and The Second Session of the Parliament 
 of Vertues ReaJl. There is no date on either of the title pages, but 
 from dates on some of the sub-titles it appears to have been published
 
 CONTRIBUTIONS TO THE ENGLISH ANTHOLOGY 19 
 
 less than ten years, in any case, before Sylvester''s death in 1618. 
 Over and over again the poet catches the great note of a great age 
 as in 
 
 I cannot strike Ajjpollo's string, 
 Study for Heav'n and timely ring 
 
 Sacred Aaron's golden Bell ; 
 Nor sing at once the Thespian Songs, 
 And serve my Country, as belongs: 
 
 Therefore, Muses, heere Fare-well. 
 
 The best poem in the book is Memorials of Mortalitie, a long and 
 sustained meditation full of brave music. It is in this poem that 
 there is a line, ' Ther's but a Sigh from Table to the Tonibe\ which 
 anticipates the most famous of Orinda's verses : 
 
 Yet carelessly we run our race, 
 As if we could Death's summons waive ; 
 And think not on the narrow space 
 Between the Table and the Grave. 
 
 These are a few of the two hundred stanzas of the Memorials : 
 
 Who feares this Death, is more then deadly sick ; 
 In midst of 1 ife he seems even dead for dreed ; 
 Death in his brest he beares, as buried Quick : 
 For, feare of Death is worse then Death indeed. 
 
 • •••••••••■ 
 
 The World's a Sea, the Galley is this Life, 
 The Master, Time ; the Pole, Hope promiseth ; 
 Fortune the Winde ; the stormie Tempest, Strife; 
 And Man the Howe-Slave, to the Port of Death. 
 
 The World is much of a faire Mistress mood, 
 Wliich, wilie, makes more Fooles then Favorites; 
 Hugs These, hates Those; yet will of all be woo'd : 
 But never keeps the Promise that she plights. 
 
 • •••■■•>•■« 
 
 Where arc Those .Moiuirclis. mightv Concjucrors, 
 \\ li()>c brows ere-wliilc the who! Worlds Laurel drest, 
 When Sea and Land could show no \a\\\(\ but Theirs.'' 
 Now, of it All, only Sea\cii Hi Is do rest. 
 
 All These huge Buildings, These proud Piles (ahts !) 
 Which secmM to threaten, Heav'n it selfe to scale; 
 Have now givi-n j)lac(' to l''orrcsts, (Jioves, aiul (irass; 
 And Time hath changM their Names and Place wit hall.
 
 20 PROCEEDINGS OF THE BRITISH ACADEMY 
 
 Thy Term expired, Thou put'st-off Payment yet. 
 And weenst to win much by some Months delay. 
 Sith pay thou must, wer't not as good be quit ? 
 For, Death will be no gentler any Day. 
 
 Life, to the life, The Chesse-board lineats ; 
 Where Pawnes and Kings have equall Portion : 
 This leaps, that limps, this cheks, that neks, that mates 
 Their Names are diverse ; but, their Wood is one. 
 
 Tis better fall, then still to feare a Fall : 
 Tis better die, then to be still a-dying : 
 The End of Pain ends the Complaint withall : 
 And nothing grieves that comes but once, and flying. 
 
 This Life's a Web, woven fine for som, som grosse ; 
 Some Hemp, some Flax, some longer, shorter some ; 
 Good and 111 Haps are but the Threeds acrosse : 
 And first or last. Death cuts it from the Loom.
 
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