WILLIAM BROWNE

I oft have heard men say there be Some that with confidence profess

The helpful Art of Memory:

But could they teach Forgetf ulness,

I'd learn; and try what further art could do

To make me love her and forget her too.

Epitaphs

MAY' Be thou never graced with birds that sing, Nor Flora's pride' In thee all flowers and roses spring, Mine only died.

254 On the Countess Dowager of Pembroke

T TNDERNEATH this sable herse \*J Lies the subject of all verse: Sidney's sister, Pembroke's mother: Death, ere thou hast slain another Fair and Icarn'd and good as she, Time shall throw a dart at thee.

��ROBERT HERRICK 2 55 Corinna's going a-Maying

T up, get up for shame' The blooming morn Upon her wings presents the god unshorn. See how Aurora throws her fair Fresh-quilted colours through the air:

�� �