My right hand with triumphant crowns is stored, VIRTUE. Stay, hasty wretch, here deadly serpents swell, WORLD. Regard not these vain speeches, let them go: VIRTUE. Canst thou now make, or hast thou ever made, No, monster, since my words have struck thee dumb, Within these folds lie hidden no deceits, No golden lures on which perdition waits; PILGRIM. These things are now most clear, thee I embrace: PHINEAS FLETCHER. PHINEAS FLETCHER, a brother of Giles Fletcher, was born in 1584. He was elected from Eton to King's College, and Sir Henry Willoughby gave him the living of Hilgay, in Norfolk, which he held twenty-nine years; when it is supposed he died, 1650. The principal poem of this author is "The Purple Island," in twelve cantos, containing an allegorical description both of the body and soul of man. It has been truly said, that no degree of skill in the poet could render this subject agreeable, as a whole, to the modern reader. It abounds. however, with picturesque passages, and touches of natural and pleasing sentiment. INVOCATION. FROM CANTO XI. OF THE PURPLE ISLAND. THE early morn lets out the peeping day, The moon grows wan, and stars fly all away, Whom Lucifer locks up in wonted folds, Till light is quenched and heaven in seas hath flung And Thirsil now began to end his task and song. Who now, alas! shall teach my humble vein, Ah, thou dread Spirit! shed thy holy fire, Teach my low muse thy fierce alarms to ring, Such as thou wert within the sacred breast Of that thrice famous poet shepherd-king; Thou flamedst bright with sparkling parted tongues, And brought'st down heaven to earth in those allconquering songs. AN APOSTROPHE TO THE FALLEN EMPIRES OF THE WORLD, FOND man, that looks on earth for happiness, Nor can we pay the fine and rentage due: Why shouldst thou here look for perpetual good, There now the hart, fearless of greyhound, feeds, There screeching satyrs fill the people's empty stedes.' Where is the Assyrian lion's golden hide, That all the east once grasped in lordly paw? Where that great Persian bear, whose swelling pride The lion's self tore out with rav'nous jaw? Or he who 'twixt a lion and a pard, Through all the world with nimble pinions fared, And to his greedy whelps his conquered kingdoms shared? Hardly the place of such antiquity, Or note of those great monarchies we find : Only a fading verbal memory, And empty name in writ is left behind: But when this second life and glory fades, And sinks at length in time's obscurer shades, A second fall succeeds, and double death invades. That monstrous beast, which nursed in Tiber's fen, That filled with costly spoil his gaping den, His battering horns, pulled out by civil hinds, And that black vulture, which with dreadful wing Frightened the muses from their native spring, Who then shall look for happiness beneath? Where each new day proclaims, chance, change, and death, And life itself's as fleet as is the air we breathe. 1 Places. THE TRIUMPH OF THE CHURCH. WITH that a thundering noise seemed shake the sky, Or when with boisterous rage the swelling main, Puffed up by mighty winds, does hoarsely roar, And breaking with his waves the trembling shore, His sandy girdle scorns, and breaks earth's rampart door. And straight an angel, full of heavenly might, A silver trumpet oft he loudly blew, Frighting the guilty earth with thundering knell; And oft proclaimed, as round the world he flew, 66 Babel, great Babel, lies as low as hell. Let every angel loud his trumpet sound, Her heaven-exalted towers in dust are drowned; Babel, proud Babel's fallen, and lies as low as ground!" The broken heavens dispart with fearful noise, Well knew the Dragon that all-quelling blast, Yet full of malice and of stubborn pride, Though oft had strove, and had been foiled as oft, Boldly his death and certain fate defied; And, mounted on his flaggy sails aloft, |