Specimens with Memoirs of the Less-known British Poets, Volume 2 by Gilfillan, George, 1813-1878

TO CLARASTELLA.

Oh, those smooth, soft, and ruby lips, * * * * * Whose rosy and vermilion hue Betrays the blushing thoughts in you: Whose fragrant, aromatic breath Would revive dying saints from death, Whose siren-like, harmonious air Speaks music and enchants the ear; Who would not hang, and fixed there Wish he might know no other sphere? Oh for a charm to make the sun Drunk, and forget his motion! Oh that some palsy or lame gout Would cramp old Time's diseased foot! Or that I might or mould or clip His speedy wings, whilst on her lip I quench my thirsty appetite With the life-honey dwells on it! * * * * * Then on his holy altar, I Would sacrifice eternally, Offering one long-continued mine Of golden pleasures to thy shrine.

BY VARIOUS AUTHORS.

MY MIND TO ME A KINGDOM IS. (FROM BYRD'S 'PSALMS, SONNETS,' ETC. 1588.)

1 My mind to me a kingdom is, Such perfect joy therein I find, That it excels all other bliss That God or nature hath assigned: Though much I want that most would have, Yet still my mind forbids to crave.

2 No princely port, nor wealthy store, Nor force to win a victory; No wily wit to salve a sore, No shape to win a loving eye; To none of these I yield as thrall, For why, my mind despise them all.

3 I see that plenty surfeits oft, And hasty climbers soonest fall; I see that such as are aloft, Mishap doth threaten most of all; These get with toil, and keep with fear: Such cares my mind can never bear.

4 I press to bear no haughty sway; I wish no more than may suffice; I do no more than well I may. Look what I want, my mind supplies; Lo, thus I triumph like a king, My mind's content with anything.

5 I laugh not at another's loss, Nor grudge not at another's gain; No worldly waves my mind can toss; I brook that is another's bane; I fear no foe, nor fawn on friend; I loathe not life, nor dread mine end.

6 My wealth is health and perfect ease, And conscience clear my chief defence; I never seek by bribes to please, Nor by desert to give offence; Thus do I live, thus will I die; Would all do so as well as I!

THE OLD AND YOUNG COURTIER.

1 An old song made by an aged old pate, Of an old worshipful gentleman, who had a great estate, That kept a brave old house at a bountiful rate, And an old porter to relieve the poor at his gate: Like an old courtier of the queen's, And the queen's old courtier.

2 With an old lady, whose anger one word assuages; They every quarter paid their old servants their wages, And never knew what belonged to coachmen, footmen, nor pages, But kept twenty old fellows with blue coats and badges: Like an old courtier, &c.