2 The burning bowels of this wasting ball And (the earth an ash-heap made) shall then expire: As fresh as Phoenix young under the Arabian morn. 3 Oh, happy they that then the first are born, 4 For all the while her purged ashes rest, A green, soft mantle doth her bosom strew A DISTEMPERED FANCY. *1 Then the wild fancy from her horrid womb VOL. II. Р 225 In their hollow eye-pits: with these she must fight: Then think herself ill wounded, sorely stung. Old fulsome hags, with scabs and scurf bedight, Foul tarry spittle tumbling with their tongue On their raw leather lips, these near will to her clung, 2 And lovingly salute against her will, Closely embrace, and make her mad with woe: 3 After a while, tossed on the ocean main, A boundless sea she finds of misery; The fiery snorts of the leviathan, That makes the boiling waves before him fly, Steel-coloured clouds with rattling thunder knocks, With these she is amazed, and thousand such-like mocks. SOUL COMPARED TO A LANTERN. 1 Like to a light fast locked in lantern dark, Arrived at home, and laid that case aside, The naked light how clearly doth it ray, And spread its joyful beams as bright as summer's day. 2 Even so, the soul, in this contracted state, Confined to these strait instruments of sense, More dull and narrowly doth operate. At this hole hears, the sight must ray from thence, Here tastes, there smells; but when she's gone from hence, Like naked lamp, she is one shining sphere, WILLIAM CHAMBERLAYNE. CHAMBERLAYNE was, during life, a poor man, and, till long after his death, an unappreciated poet. He was a physician at Shaftesbury, Dorsetshire; born in 1619, and died in 1689. He appears to have been present among the Royalists at the battle of Newbury. He complains bitterly of his narrow circumstances, and yet he lived to a long age. He published, in 1658, a tragic comedy, entitled 'Love's Victory,' and in 1659, 'Pharonnida,' a heroic poem. The latter is the main support of his literary reputation. It was discovered to be good by Thomas Campbell, who might say, 'I was the first that ever burst Into that silent sea.' Silent, however, it continues since, and can never be expected to be thronged by visitors. The story is interesting, and many of the separate thoughts, expressions, and passages are beautiful, as, for instance "The scholar stews his catholic brains for food ;' and this "Harsh poverty, That moth which frets the sacred robe of wit;' but the style is often elliptical and involved; the story meanders too much, and is too long and intricate; and, on the whole, a few mutilated fragments are all that are likely to remain of an original and highly elaborate poem. ARGALIA TAKEN PRISONER BY THE TURKS. The Turks had ought Made desperate onslaughts on the isle, but brought Of the chronical disease extended had To some few months, since to oppress the sad Circling their confines. Whilst this tedious stay Brave single combats, whose success had brought Of either party; but the balance, now The shouts of conquest; thrice on his lance appeared A spirit more than vulgar, or she dies To prop whose ruins, chosen by the free Their happy champion. Truce proclaimed, until A dreadful view, till a more noble sight His eager foe * But now so long The Turks' proud champion had endured the strong Cooled, on the ground, with his blood-he fell at length, Their champion's fall, all bands of truce forgot, And desperate combat with those knights that stand Argalia lies in chains, ordained to die A sacrifice unto the cruelty Of the fierce bashaw, whose loved favourite in |