LOOKE how the flowre, which lingringlie doth fade,

The Morning's Darling late, the Summer's Queene,
Spoyl'd of that juice, which kept it fresh and greene,
As high as it did raise, bowes low the head;
Right fo my Life (Contentments being dead,
Or in their contraries but onelie feene)

With swifter speede declines than earft it spred,
And (blasted) scarce now fhowes what it hath beene.
As doth the Pilgrime therefore whom the night
By darknesse would imprison on his way,

Thinke on thy Home, (my Soule) and thinke aright,
Of what yet reftes thee of Life's wasting day:

Thy Sunne poftes weftward, paffed is thy morne,
And twice it is not given thee to be born.

Drummond, Flowres of Sion
Ed. 1630, 4to.

TO THE NIGHTINGALE.

SWEET Bird, that fing'ft away the early howres,

Of winters paft, or comming void of care,

Well pleased with delights which prefent are,
Faire Seafones, budding sprayes, fweet-fmelling flowres:
To rocks, to springs, to rils, from leavie bowres
Thou thy Creator's goodneffe doft declare,
And what deare gifts on thee hee did not spare,
A ftaine to humane fence in fin that lowres.
What Soule can be so ficke, which by thy songs
(Attir'd in sweetneffe) fweetly is not driven
Quite to forget Earth's turmoiles, fpights and wrongs,
And lift a reverend eye and thought to Heaven?

Sweet artleffe Songstarre, thou my minde dost raise
To ayres of Spheares, yes, and to Angels layes.

SPEECHES.

Harold's fpeech before the Battle of Haftings,

"SEE

E E valiant War-friends yonder be the first, the last, and all

The agents

of our Enemies, they hencefoorth cannot call Supplies; for weedes at Normandie by this in Porches groe: Then conquer thefe would conquer you, and dread no further

foe.

They are no ftouter than the Brutes, whom we did hence

exile :

Nor ftronger than the sturdy Danes, our victory ere while :
Not Saxonie could once containe, or fcarce the world befide
Our fathers, who did fway by fword where lifted them to bide:
Then doe not yee degenerate, take courage by discent,
And by their burialles, not abode, their force and flight pre-

vent.

Yee have in hand your Countries caufe, a conqueft they pretend,

Which (were yee not the fame yee be) even cowards would de

fend.

I graunt

I graunt that part of us are fled and linked to the foe,
And glad I am our Armie is of traytours cleered fo:
Yea pardon hath he to depart that stayeth mal-content:
I prife the mind above the man, like zeale hath like event.
Yeat truth it is, no well or ill this Island ever had,

But through the well or ill fupport of fubjects good or bad: Not Cæfar, Hengeft, Swayn, or now (which neretheles shall

fayle)

The Normane Baftard, Albion true, did, could, or can prevayle.

But to be felfe-falfe in this 1fle a felfe-foe ever is,

Yeat wot I, never traytour did his treafons ttipend mis.

Shrinke who will fhrinke, let armors wayte preffe downe the burd'ned earth,

My foes, with wondring eyes fhall fee I over-prize my death. But fince ye all (for all, I hope, alike affected bee,

Your wives, your children, lives, and land, from fervitude to

free)

Are armed both in fhew and zeale, then glorioufly contend, To winne and weare the home-brought fpoyles, of Victorie the end.

Let not the Skinners daughter Sonne poffeffe what he pretends,

He lives to die a noble death that life for freedome spends."

a

Duke WILLIAM's Speech.

"To

O live upon or lie within this is my ground or grave
(My loving Souldiers), one of twaine your Duke refolves
to have.

Nor be ye Normanes now to feeke in what you should be stout,
Ye come amidst the English pikes to hewe your honers out,
Ye come to winne the fame by launce, that is your owne by

law,

Ye come, I fay, in righteous warre revenging fwords to draw. Howbeit of more hardie foes no paffed flight hath spead

yee,

Since Rollo to your now-abode with bands victorious lead

yee,

Or Turchus, Sonne of Troylus, in Scythian Fazo bread

yee.

Then worthy your progenitors yee Seede of Pryam's fonne Exployt this Buifneffe, Rollons do that which yee wish be

done.

Three people have as many times got and forgone this fhore,
It refteth now yee conquer it not to be conquered more:
For Normane and the Saxon blood conjoyning, as it may,
From that conforted feede the Crowne fhall never paffe away.
Before us are our armed foes, behind us are the feas,
On either fide the foe hath holdes of fuccour and for ease:
But that advantage fhall returne their disadvantage thus,
If ye obferve no fhore is left the which may fhelter us,
And fo hold out amidst the rough whil'ft they hale in for lee,
Whereas, whil'ft men fecurely fayle, not feldome fhipwracks

bee,

What