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Page 2
The notes by the Reformers from the margin
of the Geneva version, have been reprinted with
what is usually called King James' version, the one
now in use, in the editions printed at Amsterdam,
at the beginning of the seventeenth century.
[Curly-pi].
* * * * *
POEMS DISCOVERED AMONG THE PAPERS OF SIR KENELM DIGBY.
MR. HALLIWELL (Vol. ii., p. 238.) says that he
does not believe my MS. of the "Minde of the
Lady Venetia Digby" can be an autograph. I
have reason to think that he is right from discovering
another MS. written in the same hand as the
above, and containing two poems without date or
signature, neither of which (I _believe_) are Ben
Jonson's. I enclose the shorter of the two, and
should feel obliged if any of your correspondents
could tell me the author of it, as this would throw
some light upon the _writer_ of the two MSS.
THE HOURGLASSE.
Doe but consider this small dust running in this glasse,
By atoms moved;
Would you believe that this the body ever was
Of one that loved;
Who in his mistresse flames playing like a fly,
Burnt to cinders by her eye?
Yes! and in death as life unblest,
To have it exprest
Even ashes of lovers have no rest.
I also enclose a copy of another poem I have discovered, which appears to
me very curious, and, from the date, written the very year of the visit of
Prince Charles and Buckingham to the court of Spain. Has it ever been
printed, and who is the author?
What sodaine change hath dark't of late
The glory of the Arcadian state?
The fleecy flocks refuse to feede
The Lambes to play, the Ewes to breede
The altars make(s) the offeringes burne
That Jack and Tom may safe returne.
The Springe neglectes his course to keepe,
The Ayre continual stormes do weepe,
The pretty Birdes disdaine to singe,
The Maides to smile, the woods to springe,
The Mountaines droppe, the valleys morne
Till Jack and Tom do safe returne.
What may that be that mov'd this woe?
Whose want afflicts Arcadia so?
The hope of Greece, the proppe of artes,
Was prinly Jack, the joy of hartes.
And Tom was to his Royall Paw
His trusty swayne, his chiefest maw.
The loftye Toppes of Menalus
Did shake with winde from Hesperus,
Whose sweete delicious Ayre did fly
Through all the Boundes of Arcady,
Which mov'd a vaine in Jack and Tom
To see the coast the winde came from.
This winde was love, which Princes state
To Pages turn, but who can hate
Where equall fortune love procures,
Or equall love success assures?
So virtuous Jack shall bring from Greece
The Beautyous prize, the Golden fleece.
Love is a world of many paines,
Where coldest hills, and hottest playnes,
With barren rockes and fertill fieldes
By turne despaire and comforte yeldes;
But who can doubt of prosperous lucke
Where Love and fortune both conducte?
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