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thing, and whose graver and deeper impulses are subordinated to a code of artificial manners. Of th se Praed is the laureate-elect; and the narrow circle in which they move is the ‘haunt, and the main region of his song.' Now and again, it may be, he appears to quit it, but never in reality, and even when he seems to do so, like Landor's shell remote from the sea, he still remembers its august abodes.'"

Suckling and Herrick, Swift and Prior, Cowper, Landor, and Thomas Moore, and Praed, and Thackeray, may be considered the representative men in this class of literature.

The collection has been restricted to the writings of deceased British authors, and as this kind of metrical composition is little cultivated at the present day, the Editor hopes that his book will not suffer much in consequence, although, at the same time, he regrets that the rules which he has laid down prevent his giving specimens from the writings of Lord Tennyson, Sir Theodore Martin, Sir Edwin Arnold, Messrs. Austin Dobson, Andrew Lang, F. C. Burnand, H. Cholmondeley-Pennell, W. S. Gilbert, J. Ashby Sterry, Godfrey Turner, Savile Clarke, F. Anstey, Lewis Carroll, Miss May Probyn, and others; and of Dr. O. W. Holmes, and Messrs. James Russell Lowell, Bret Harte, J. G. Saxe, C. G. Leland, and some who have written anonymously.

For permission to make extracts from Mr. T. H. Bayly's works, the Editor's thanks are due to Messrs. R. Bentley & Son ; from Mr. Shirley Brooks's, to Messrs. Bradbury, Agnew, & Co. ; from Mr. H. S. Leigh's,

Messrs. Chatto & Windus; from Mr. W. J. Prowse's, to Mesșrs. Dalziel Bros.; from Mr. Mortimer


Collins's, io Messrs. Kegan Paul, Trench, Trübner & Co.; and from Sir Francis Hastings Doyle's and the Rev. Charles Tennyson-Turner's, to Messrs. Macmillan & Co.

In thanking Messrs. G. Bell & Son, for permission to print the verses by the late C. S. Calverley which are given in the volume, it should be added that the selection from Mr. Calverley was, by Messrs. Bell & Son's request, limited to three pieces, otherwise the lines entitled “Motherhood,” “Forever,” and “Beer,” would also have appeared. In one or two cases the Editor was unable to dis

whom to apply for permission to include a poem, or leave would first have been asked, and an acknowledgment made.

The reading of several of the poems varies in different collections, and much difficulty has been encountered in discovering which was correct. When any doubt about the authorship of a poem was entertained, it was thought best to leave the question open.

The Editor has taken great care to make the selection as complete as possible ; still, he trusts to the indulgence of his readers for any errors or omissions which

be found.







MERRY Margaret,
As Midsummer flower,
Gentle as falcon,
Or hawk of the tower;
With solace and gladness,
Much mirth and no madness,
All good and no badness;
So joyously,
So maideniy,
So womanly,
Her demeaning,
In everything,
Far, far passing,
That I can indite,
Or suffice to write
Of merry Margaret,
As Midsummer flower,
Gentle as falcon
Or hawk of the tower;
As patient and as still,
And as full of good will,
As fair Isiphil,
Sweet Pomander,
Good Cassander;
Steadfast of thought,
Well made, well wrought.
Far may be sought,


Ere you can find
So courteous, so kind,
As merry Margaret
This Midsummer flower,
Gentle as falcon,
Or hawk of the tower.

Fohn Skelton.



A FACE that should content me wondrous well

Should not be fair, but lovely to behold; Of lively look, all grief for to repel

With right good grace, so would I that it should Speak without words, such words as none can tell;

Her tress also should be of crisped gold. With wit, and these, perchance, I might be tried, And knit again with knot that should not slide.

Sir Thomas Wyat.



" Who is it that this dark night

Underneath my window plaineth ?”.
It is one who from thy sight

Being (ah!) exiled, disdaineth
Every other vulgar light.
“Why, alas! and are you he?

Are not yet these fancies changed ?”-
Dear, when you find change in me,

Though from me you be estranged,
Let my change to ruin be.
What if you new beauties see?

Will not they stir new affection ?”.
I will think they pictures be

(Image-like of saint perfection)
Poorly counterfeiting thee.

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“ Peace! I think that some give ear,

Come, no more, lest I get anger.'
Bliss ! I will my bliss forbear,

Fearing, sweet, you to endanger;
But my soul shall harbour there.
“Well, begone: begone, I say,

Lest that Argus' eyes perceive you.”-
O! unjust is Fortune's sway,

Which can make me thus to leave you,
And from louts to run away!

Sir Philip Sydney.



Love is a sickness full of woes,

All remedies refusing;
A plant that most with cutting grows,
Most barren with best using.

Why so ?
More we enjoy it, more it dies,
If not enjoy'd, it sighing cries

Love is a torment of the mind,

A tempest everlasting;
And Jove hath made it of a kind
Not well, nor full, nor fasting.

Why so?
More we enjoy it, more it dies;
If not enjoy'd, it sighing cries

Samuel Daniel.



My true love hath my heart, and I have his,

By just exchange one to the other given: I hold his dear, and mine he cannot miss, There never was a better bargain driven:

My true love hath my heart, and I have his.

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