And, in their error's

maze,
thine own way

know:
Which is to live to conscience, not to show.
He that, but living half his age, dies such,
Makes the whole longer than 'twas given him,

much.

CXX.

a

102
EPITAPH ON S. P., A CHILD OF QUEEN

ELIZABETH'S CHAPEL.
Weep with

me,
all
you

that read
This little story ;
And know, for whom a tear you shed,

Death's self is sorry.
'Twas a child, that so did thrive

In grace and feature,
As Heaven and nature seemed to strive

Which owned the creature.
Years he numbered scarce thirteen

When fates turned cruel;
Yet three filled zodiacs had he been

The stage's jewel;
And did act, what now we moan,

Old men so duly ;
As, sooth, the Parex thought him one

He played so truly.
So, by error, to his fate

They all consented; 102 Salathiel Pary. The subject of this beautiful epitaph acted in Cynthia's Revels and in the Poetaster, 1600 and 1601, in which [latter) year he probably died. The poet speaks of him with interest and affection, and it cannot be doubted that he was a boy of extraordinary talents. -- G.

But viewing him since, (alas, too late !)

They have repented;
And have sought, to give new birth,

In baths to steep him;
But, being so much too good for earth,

Heaven vows to keep him.

CXXI.

103 TO BENJAMIN RUDYERD.

Rudyerd, as lesser dames to great ones use,
My lighter comes to kiss thy learned muse;
Whose better studies while she emulates,
She learns to know long difference of their states.
Yet is the office not to be despised,
If only love should make the action prized;
Nor he for friendship can be thought unfit,
That strives his manners should precede his wit.

TO THE SAME.

CXXII. If I would wish, for truth and not for show, The aged Saturn's age and rites to know ; If I would strive to bring back times, and try The world's pure gold, and wise simplicity; If I would virtue set as she was young, And hear her speak with one, and her first tongue; If holiest friendship, naked to the touch, I would restore, and keep it ever such: I need no other arts, but study thee, Who prov'st all these were, and again may be.

103 Afterwards knighted ; one of the most accomplished men of his time, a scholar, a poet, a distinguished speaker in Parliament, and the intimate friend of Pembroke.- B.

Writing thyself, or judging others' writ,
I know not which thou'st most, candor, or wit;
But both thou'st so, as who affects the state
Of the best writer and judge, should emulate.

CXXIV. EPITAPH ON ELIZABETH, L. H. 104

Wouldst thou hear what man can say
In a little ? Reader, stay.
Underneath this stone doth lie
As much beauty as could die;
Which in life did harbor give
To more virtue than doth live.
If at all she had a fault,
Leave it buried in this vault.
One name was Elizabeth,
Th’ other let it sleep with death.
Fitter, where it died, to tell,
Than that it lived at all. Farewell.

a

CXXV.

TO SIR WILLIAM UVEDALE.

195

Uvedale, thou piece of the first times, a man
Made for what nature could, or virtue can;
Both whose dimensions lost, the world might find
Restored in thy body, and thy mind!
Who sees a soul in such a body set,
Might love the treasure for the cabinet.
But I, no child, no fool, respect the kind,
The full, the flowing graces there enshrined ;
Which, would the world not miscall ’t flattery,
I could adore, almost t' idolatry !

CXXVI.

TO HIS LADY, THEN MISTRESS CARY. Retired, with purpose your fair worth to praise, 'Mongst Hampton shades, and Phæbus' grove of

bays,
I plucked a branch; the jealous god did frown,
And bade me lay th' usurpèd laurel down;
Said I wronged him, and, which was more, his

love.
I answered, Daphne now no pain can prove.
Phoebus replied, Bold head, it is not she,
Cary my love is, Daphne but my tree. .

CXXVII. TO ESME, LORD AUBIGNY? 106 Is there a hope that man would thankful be, If I should fail in gratitude to thee To whom I am so bound, loved Aubigny ? No, I do, therefore, call posterity Into the debt; and reckon on her head How full of want, how swallowed up, how dead I and this muse had been, if thou hadst not

Lent timely succors, and new life begot;
So, all reward, or name,

that

grows to me By her attempt, shall still be owing thee. And, than this same, I know no abler way To thank thy benefits: which is, to pay.

Roe, and my joy to name, thou’rt now to go
Countries and climes, manners and men to know,
T extract and choose the best of all these known,
And those to turn to blood, and make thine own.
May winds as soft as breath of kissing friends,
Attend thee hence; and there, may all thy ends,
As the beginning here, prove purely sweet,
And perfect in a circle always meet!
So when we, blest with thy return, shall see
Thyself, with thy first thoughts brought home

by thee, We each to other may this voice inspire; This is that good Æneas, passed through fire,

107 Supposed by Gifford to be the younger brother, or cousin, of Sir Thomas Roe. — See ante, 16. Gifford adds that this gentleman seems to have been in a mercantile or diplomatic capacity, and to have entered the profession of arms, quoting a passage from a letter of Howell's to the effect that William Roe had returned from the wars wounded in the arm, and confessing himself “an egregious fool to leave his mercership for a musket.” But there is nothing in the epigram to sustain any of these suppositions. The William Roe addressed by the poet appears to have gone abroad expressly upon his travels. — B.