SIR JOHN BEAUMONT

223. Of his T>ear Son, Gervase

"T\EAR Lord, receive my son, whose winning love ^^ To me was like a friendship, far above The course of nature or his tender age ; Whose looks could all my bitter griefs assuage: Let his pure soul, ordain'd seven years to be In that frail body which was part of me, Remain my pledge in Heaven, as sent to show How to this port at every step I go.

��WILLIAM DRUMMOND, OF HAWTHORNDEN 224. Invocation

DHCEBUS, arise!

• And paint the sable skies

With azure, white, and red ; Rouse Memnon's mother from her Tithon's bed, That she thy career may with roses spread ; The nightingales thy coming each-where sing ; Make an eternal spring !

Give life to this dark world which lieth dead; Spread forth thy golden hair In larger locks than thou wast wont before, And emperor-like decore With diadem of pearl thy temples fair : Chase hence the ugly night Which serves but to make dear thy glorious light.

�� �