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this opportunity of quoting two stanzas from "Dolarny's Primrose:" he is describing a fair May day.

"In garments green the meadowes fayre did ranck it
The vallies lowe of garments greene were glad;
In garments greene the pastures proud did pranck it,
The daly grounds in garments greene were clad:
Each hill and dale, each bush and brier were seene
Then for to florish in their garments greene.

"Thus as the medowes, forests and the fields
In sumptuous tires had deckt their daynty slades,
The.florishing trees wanton pleasure yeelds,
Keeping the sunne from out their shadie shades:
On whose greene leaues vpon each calmie day
The gentle wind with dallying breath did play."

Elliot. It is very poor certainly, but the lines are not altogether deficient in harmony.

Bourne. Perhaps not, with the assistance of " garments green" five times affectedly repeated, and such combinations as "daly grounds," "shady shades," and " calmy days," besides "grovy shades," no less than thrice employed in the course of six stanzas.

Morton. Let us leave him for Dinohin, alias John Hind. By the by, Golde, in the "Fig for Momus" of Lodge, in the same way may be meant for the author.

Bourne. No doubt that is the true explanation, which never occurred to me before. Dinohin is an important personage in the second book of this

VOL. II. c

pamphlet, and the author, without doubt, meant to shadow himself under the name—this makes it the more curious. The extract I am about to read is from p. 77 oiEliosto Libidinoso.

"When Titan, hasting to plunge his fierie chariot in Z^eiwlappe, had gladded Oceanus with his returne."

Elliot. A man who could put together such a sentence as that, could not have an atom of taste, or any notion of propriety—" plunging his fiery chariot in Thetis's lap," is a most extravagant absurdity.

Morton. Let us defer our criticisms until the end.

Bourne. Yet the observation is perfectly well founded. "When Titan hasting to plunge his fierie chariot in Thetis lappe, had gladded Oceanus with his returne, the tormented Louer taking a Lute in his hand, went to the place which so late he found, and there did in sad melodie sound foorth his sorrowes.—Gatesinea wondring to heare musicke at her windowe looked out and discerned her beloued Dinohin, whose affections when shee sawe like her owne, shee was rauished with incredible ioyes, and had presently vttered some signe of her content, had not maidenly modestie, and the presence of her nurce staid her: who perswaded her, that hauing Dinohin at the aduantage, shee should not so easily offer her loue, lest hee might little esteeme it, hauing so lightly got it. The perplexed Louer repairing oft to his accustomed place with more pleasure to Gate' sinea than content to himselfe, resolued in the ende to make a full triall of his good or badde fortune, and no more to vse such dumbe demonstrations. Comming therefore late, as he was wont, to the window, he tarried till he perceiued by some signes, that his mistresse was come into her chamber, accompanied only with her nurce: then fingring his Lute, and framing his voice, he vttered this passionate Dittie, making euery rest a deepe-fetched sigh.

Dinohins Sonnet.

"I rashly vow'd (fond wretch why did I so ?) When I was free that Loue should not inthrall me:Ah foolish boast, the cause of all my woe, And this misfortune that doth now befall me.

Loues God incens'd did sweare that I should smart, That done, he shot and strooke me to the heart!

"Sweet was the wound, but bitter was the paine;Sweet is the bondage to so faire a creature,

If coie thoughts do not Beuties brightnesse staine,

Nor crueltie wrong so diuine a feature.
Loue pittie mee, and let it quite my cost,
By Loue to finde what I by Loue haue lost!

"Heau'ns pride, Earths wonder, Natures peerelesse choice

Faire harbour of my soules decaying gladnesse! Yield him some ease, whose faint and trembling voice Doth sue for pittie ouerwhelm'd with sadnesse.

In thee it rests, faire Saint, to saue or spill
His life, whose loue is ledde by Reasons will!"

Elliot. There is not much to be said against the prose, excepting where the author attempts to set out with a flourish about Titan and Thetis.

Bourne. And the poetry is so good, that I am not at all sure that it is Hind's own composition: the two last lines I cannot help fancying that I have read somewhere else.

Morton. I do not see why you should strip every feather from the wings of Hind's Pegasus; where he has availed himself of the labours of other men, he seems to have acknowledged the obligation.

Bourne. In one respect he was very original, for to use a phrase of Shakespeare's, he was "a man of fire-new words," though a,great imitator of the then discredited Eupheuistic style. Having seen all that is necessary of his production, I suppose there is no objection to our completing what we left unfinished at our last meeting.

Elliot. I do not imagine that much remains for us to notice in the class of writers who have produced satirical poetry.

Bourne. If I were to go through those who wrote after 1600, as minutely as I have done those who wrote before that date, we should not only have a long, but a tedious task yet to execute.

Morton. We want to be amused and informed, not to be wearied and stupefied.

Bourne. You need be under no alarm; I should be quite as reluctant to enter upon that task as yourself; but in quoting a few specimens from two very celebrated authors, I apprehend we shall be rendering our subject sufficiently complete, be employing our time profitably, and obtaining as much amusement as the nature of the inquiry will allow.

Elliot. I leave it to your discretion, putting in my protest by the way against any thing tedious. In this respect you are quite free to be dives tibi, pauper amicis: you may keep your knowledge of those numerous authors you hint at to yourself: to the select few I have no objection.

Bourne. I have no wish to revive forgotten and neglected trash. Specimens from two writers will conclude our inquiry respecting the origin and progress of satire in English.

Elliot And who is the first author, or rather the first satirist, you are about to notice to-day?

Bourne. George Wither.

Elliot. A name I have often heard, though I have never had an opportunity of seeing more than a few extracts from some of his productions.

Bourne. The ridicule of Butler, Pope, and Swift, has contributed to keep him in the back ground longer than many other authors of far less merit: in fact he has been improperly and unfairly estimated, both by his friends and enemies; the latter heaping

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