THE COUNTESS OF CARLISLE

OF HER CHAMBER

HEY taste of death, that do at heaven arrive;
But we this paradise approach alive.

TH

Instead of Death, the dart of Love does strike: And renders all within these walls alike; The high in titles, and the shepherd here Forgets his greatness, and forgets his fear. All stand amazed, and gazing on the fair Lose thought of what themselves or others are; Ambition lose: and have no other scope,

Save Carlisle's favor, to employ their hope.

The Thracian could (though all those tales were true The bold Greeks tell) no greater wonders do:

Before his feet so sheep and lions lay,

Fearless and wrathless while they heard him play.
The gay, the wise, the gallant, and the grave,
Subdued alike, all but one passion have;
No worthy mind but finds in hers there is
Something proportioned to the rule of his;
While she, with cheerful but impartial grace,
(Born for no one, but to delight the race
Of men,) like Phoebus, so divides her light,
And warms us, that she stoops not from her height.

ON A GIRDLE

HAT which her slender waist confined

TH

Shall now my joyful temples bind:

No monarch but would give his crown,
His arms might do what this hath done.

It was my heaven's extremest sphere,
The pale which held that lovely deer;
My joy, my grief, my hope, my love,
Did all within this circle move!

A narrow compass! and yet there

Dwelt all that's good and all that's fair:
Give me but what this ribbon bound,
Take all the rest the sun goes round.

CROMWELL AT WHITEHALL.

Photogravure from a painting by Schrader