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SIR JOHN DAVIES.
(Born, 1570. Died, 1625.)
Sir John DAVIES wrote, at twenty-five years of In Ireland he was successively nominated solicitor age, a poem on the immortality of the soul ; and and attorney general, was knighted, and chosen at fifty-two, when he was a judge and a statesman, speaker of the Irish House of Commons, in oppoanother on the art of dancing*." Well might sition to the Catholic interest. Two works which the teacher of that noble accomplishment, in he published as the fruits of his observation in Molière's comedy, exclaim, La philosophie est that kingdom, have attached considerable importquelque chose—mais la danse !
ance to his name in the legal and political history Sir John was the son of a practising lawyer at of Irelandş. On his return to England he sat in Tisbury, in Wiltshire. He was expelled from parliament for Newcastle-under-Lyne, and had the Temple for beating Richard Martint, who was assurances of being appointed chief justice of afterwards recorder of London ; but his talents England, when his death was suddenly occasioned redeemed the disgrace. He was restored to the by apoplexy. He married, while in Ireland, Temple, and elected to parliament, where, al Eleanor, a daughter of Lord Audley, by whom though he had Hattered Queen Elizabeth in his he had a daughter, who was married to Ferdinand poetry, he distinguished himself by supporting the Lord Hastings, afterwards Earl of Huntingdon. privileges of the house, and by opposing royal Sir John's widow turned out an enthusiast and a monopolies. On the accession of King James he prophetess. A volume of her ravings was pubwent to Scotland with Lord Hunsdon, and was lished in 1649, for which the revolutionary received by the new sovereign with flattering government sent her to the Tower, and to Bethcordiality, as author of the poem Nosce Teipsum. lehem Hospital.
When reason's lamp, that, like the sun in sky, In fine, what is it but the fiery coach
Throughout man's little world her beams did Which the youth|| sought, and sought his death spread, withal,
Is now become a sparkle, which doth lie Or the boy's wings( which, when he did approach Under the ashes, half extinct and dead. The sun's hot beams, did melt and let him fall ?
[* This is not the case; the “ Poeme of Dauncing" How can we hope, that through the eye and ear, appeared in 1596, in his twenty-sixth year, and, curious This dying sparkle, in this cloudy space, enough, with a dedicatory sonnet “ To his very Friend, Ma.
Can recollect these beams of knowledge clear, Rich. Martin." A copy, supposed unique, is in the Bridgewater Library. The poem was the work of fifteen
Which were infused in the first minds by grace? days.-Sec COLLIER's Bibliographical Catalogue, p. 92. The poet wrote bis name LADYS.)
$ The works are " A Discovery of the Causes why | A respectable man, to whom Ben Jonson dedicated Ireland was never subdued till the beginning of his his Poetaster. * Prometheus.
Majesty's Reign," and "Reports of Cases adjudged in the | Phaeton.
King's Courts in Ireland."
So might the heir whose father hath in play
Yet if affliction once her wars begin,
The wits that dived most deep and soar'd most high,
THAT THE SOUL IS MORE THAN A PERFECTION
OR REFLEXION OF THE SENSE.
For this the wisest of all moral men
Are they not senseless, then, that think the soul Said, “ he knew nought but that he did not know.” Nought but a fine perfection of the sense, And the great mocking master mock'd not then, Or of the forms which fancy doth enrol, When he said “ Truth was buried deep below.' A quick resulting and a consequence ?
What is it, then, that doth the sense accuse
Both of false judgments and fond appetites? As spiders, touch'd, seek their web's inmost part ;
What makes us do what sense doth most refuse, As bees, in storms, back to their hives return;
Which oft in torment of the sense delights ? As blood in danger gathers to the heart ; As men seek towns when foes the country burn : If aught can teach us aught, affliction's looks Could any powers of sense the Roman move, (Making us pry into ourselves so near),
To burn his own right hand with courage stout ! Teach us to know ourselves beyond all books,
Could sense make Marius sit unbound, and prove Or all the learned schools that ever were.
The cruel lancing of the knotty gout ?
Sense outsides knows-the soul through all things
She within lists my ranging mind hath brought,
Then is the soul a nature which contains
TILAT THE SOUL IS MORE THAN THE TEMPER-
I know my life's a pain, and but a span ;
If she doth, then, the subtle sense excel,
As if most skill in that musician were,
We seek to know the moving of each sphere,
Why doth not beauty, then, refine the wit,
Who can in memory, or wit, or will,
If th' elements, which have nor life nor sense,
All moving things to other things do move
If she were but the body's quality,
And as the moisture which the thirsty earth Then we should be with it sick, maim'd, and blind; Sucks from the sea to fill her empty veins, But we perceive, where these privations be, From out her womb at last doth take a birth, An healthy, perfect, and sharp-sighted mind.
And runs a lymph along the grassy plains.
(Born, 1592. Died, 1627.]
This writer left four or five dramatic pieces, of predecessor, who, being a Xantippe, contributed, very ordinary merit. He was bred at Christ's according to Langbaine, to shorten his days by Church, Oxford. He held the living of East the “violence of her provoking tongue.” He had Clandon in Surrey, but unfortunately succeeded the reputation of an eloquent preacher, and some not only to the living, but to the widow of his of kis sermons appeared in print.
SCENE FROM GOFFE'S TRAGEDY OF “AMURATH, OR THE COURAGEOUS TURK."
ALADIN, husband to the daughter of AMURATH, having rebelled against his father-in-law, is brought captive before him.
Enter at one door, AMURATH with Attendants; at the
other door, A LADIN, his Wife, two children, in while
Be blunt those now sharp thoughts ; lay down
those threats ;
Alad. Why then, I'll, like the Roman Pompey, o let me kiss, kind father ! first the earth hide
On which you tread, then kiss mine husband's cheek. My dying sight, scorning imperious looks
Great king, embrace those babes-you are the stock Should grace so base a stroke with sad aspect.
On which these grafts were plantedThus will I muffle up, and choke my groans,
Amur. True; and when sprouts do rob the tree Lest a grieved tear should quite put out the name Of lasting courage in Carmania's fame!
They must be pruned. Amur. What, still stiff-neck'd? Is this the dlad. Wife. Dear father! leave such harsh truce you beg?
Amur. Yes; to have them collect a manly strength, And
prove more hot unto the Turkish Empery And their first lesson that their dad shall teach them, Than the Promethean blaze did trouble Jove ! Shall be to read my misery. First sacrifice those brats !
Alad. Stern conqueror ! but that thy daughter Alad. Wife. Dear father, let thy fury rush on me!
shows Within these entrails sheath thine insate sword ! There once dwelt good in that obdurate breast, And let this ominous and too fruitful womb I would not spend a tear to soften thee. Be torn in sunder! for from thence those babes Thou see'st my countries turn'd into a grave ! Took all their crimes ; error (hath) made them My cities scare the sun with fiercer flanes, guilty
Which turn them into ashes !all myself 'Twas nature's fault, not theirs. O if affection So sleckt and carved, that my amazed blood Can work then !-now show a true father's love: Knows not through which wound first to take its If not, appease those murdering thoughts with me; For as Jocasta pleaded with her sons
If not on me,
have mercy on my babes, For their dear father, so to a father I
Which with thy mercy thou may’st turn to love. For my dear babes and husband husband ! Amur. No, Sir, we must root out malicious seed; father!
Nothing sprouts faster than an envious weed. Which shall I first embrace? Victorious father ! We see a little bullock ’mongst an herd,
Thus learn of me to weep-of me to kneel.
1st Child. Good grandsire, see—see how my
father cries ! Wife. Good father, hear-hear how thy daughter
prays. Thou that know'st how to use stern warrior's arms, Learn how to use mild warrior's pity too.
Whose horns are yet scarce crept from out his front,
Amur. Rise, my dear child ! as marble against
Be thou our son and friend.
SIR FULKE GREVILLE,
(Born, 1554. Died, 1628.)
Who ordered this inscription for his own grave : afterwards appointed sub-treasurer, chancellor of “ Servant to Queen Elizabeth, counsellor to King the exchequer, and made a peer, by the title of James, and friend to Sir Philip Sydney ;" was Baron Brooke, in 1621. He died by the stab of created knight of the bath at James's coronation, a revengeful servant, in 1628.
STANZAS FROM HIS TREATISE ON HUMAN LEARNING.
Some ruinous notions which our nature shows
Nor in a right line can her eyes ascend,
Knowledge's riext organ is imagination,
INSUFFICIENCY OF PHILOSOPHY.
For, as among physicians, what they call