V.

OF A CONTENTED MIND.1

(By Thomas Lord Vaux.)

ZHEN all is done and said,

In the end thus shall you find, He most of all doth bathe in bliss That hath a quiet mind,

And, clear from worldly cares,

To deem can be content

The sweetest time in all his life

In thinking to be spent.

The body subject is

To fickle Fortune's power,

And to a million of mishaps

Is casual every hour;

And death in time doth change
It to a clod of clay,
Whenas the mind, which is divine,

Runs never to decay.

Companion none is like

Unto the mind alone;

For many have been harmed by speech;
Through thinking few or none:

"Paradise of Dainty Devices," 1576, &c.

Fear oftentimes restraineth words,
But makes not thoughts to cease,
And he speaks best that hath the skill
When for to hold his peace.

Our wealth leaves us at death;
Our kinsmen at the grave;
But virtues of the mind unto

The heavens with us we have.

Wherefore, for virtue's sake,
I can be well content

The sweetest time of all

my life

To deem in thinking spent.

L. VAUX.

VI.

OF THE INSTABILITY OF YOUTH.1 (By Thomas Lord Vaux or J. Haryngton.)

ZHEN I look back, and in myself behold The wandering ways that youth could not descry,

W

And mark the fearful course that youth

did hold,

And meet in mind each step youth strayed awry; My knees I bow, and from my heart I call,— O Lord, forget these faults and follies all!

"Paradise of Dainty Devices," signed L. Vaux. Four stanzas, much varied, claimed for J. Haryngton in "Nugæ Antiquæ," vol. ii. p. 333, edit. Park.

For now I see how void youth is of skill;

I see also his prime time and his end; I do confess my faults and all my ill,

And sorrow sore for that I did offend;
And with a mind repentant of all crimes,
Pardon I ask for youth ten thousand times.

The humble heart hath daunted the proud mind;
Eke wisdom hath given ignorance a fall;
And wit hath taught that folly could not find,
And age hath youth her subject and her thrall.
Therefore I pray, O Lord of life and truth,
Pardon the faults committed in my youth!

Thou that didst grant the wise king his request;
Thou that in whale thy prophet didst preserve;
Thou that forgavest the wounding of thy breast;
Thou that didst save the thief in state to starve ;
Thou only God, the Giver of all Grace,
Wipe out of mind the path of youth's vain race!

Thou that by power to life didst raise the dead;
Thou that of grace restor❜dst the blind to sight;
Thou that for love Thy life and love outbled;

Thou that of favour madest the lame go right; Thou that canst heal and help in all assays, Forgive the guilt that grew in youth's vain ways!

And now since I, with faith and doubtless mind, Do fly to Thee by prayer to appease Thy ire, And since that Thee I only seek to find,

And hope by faith to attain my just desire; Lord, mind no more youth's error and unskill, And able age to do Thy Holy Will!

VII.

ON ISABELLA MARKHAM.1

(By J. Haryngton. Before 1564?)

ZHENCE comes my love? O heart, disclose!

"Twas from cheeks that shame the

W

rose;

From lips that spoil the ruby's praise; From eyes that mock the diamond's blaze. Whence comes my woe? As freely own: Ah me! 'twas from a heart of stone.

The blushing cheek speaks modest mind;
The lips, befitting words most kind;
The eye does tempt to love's desire,
And seems to say, 'tis Cupid's fire:

Yet all so fair but speak my moan,

Sith nought doth say the heart of stone.

Why thus, my love, so kind bespeak
Sweet lip, sweet eye, sweet blushing cheek,
Yet not a heart to save my pain?
O Venus! take thy gifts again!
Make not so fair to cause our moan;
Or make a heart that's like your own!

"Nuge Antiquæ," vol. ii. p. 324, edit. Park.

VIII.

VERSES MADE BY QUEEN ELIZABETH.1

康

(Circ. 1569.)

HE doubt of future foes

Exiles my present joy,

And wit me warns to shun such snares
As threaten mine annoy.

For falsehood now doth flow,
And subject faith doth ebb,
Which would not be if reason ruled,
Or wisdom weaved the web.

But clouds of toys untried
Do cloak aspiring minds,
Which turn to rain of late repent,
By course of changed winds.

The top of hope supposed

The root of ruth will be,
And fruitless all their graffed guiles,
As shortly ye shall see.

Then dazzled eyes with pride,
Which great ambition blinds,
Shall be unsealed by worthy wights,

Whose foresight falsehood finds.

Printed by Puttenham, "Art of Poesy," 1589, p. 208, as a "ditty of her Majesty's own making, passing sweet and harmonical." In MS. Rawl. Poet. 108, fol. 44, verso, it is entitled "Verses made by the Queen's Majesty." Another text was printed by Brydges from a Harl. MS.; "Topographer," vol. ii. p. 176.