PATRICK HANNAY. From his poems, 1622. Hannay appears to have served in a military capacity, under Sir Andrew Gray, knt. a colonel of foot, and general of artillery to the king of Bohemia. His "Happy Husband, with a Wife's Behaviour after Mar66 riage," was printed in 1619, and again, with " Philomela, "the Nightingale," ""Sheretine and Mariana," "Elegies," "" Songs and Sonnets," in 1622. These productions he describes to be the "fruit of some hours he with the Muses "spent." SONG. Amantium ira amoris redintegratio est. CELIA jealous, lest I did In my heart affect another, Women cannot passion smother. The dearer love, the more disdain, I vow'd (in anger) to abstain.— She found her fault, and me invited. I came with intent to chide her, 'Cause she had true love abus'd, Resolved never to abide her: Yet, her fault she so excus'd, As it did me more entangle ; Telling True love must have fears." They ne'er lov'd that ne'er did wrangle; Lovers' jars but love endears. SONG. SERVANT, farewell!—is this my hire? my deserts no more require? Do No! do not think to cheat me so; I will have more yet ere you go. Thy lov'd idea I'll arrest, And it imprison in my breast; Nor think it ever shall part thence -- [Extracted from "Philomela."] * * THE maple with a scarry skin The trembling ill Of tongues of womankind, Which never rest, But still are prest To wave with * JOHN HAGTHORPE. A small volume of his poems, consisting of "Divine Medi"tations and Elegies," was published in 1622, and in the next year a second collection, which he calls "Visiones "Rerum, the Visions of Things." All of these bear testimony to his learning and piety, but his subjects were too sublime for his genius. Of the anecdotes of his life I know nothing. ON TIME. TIME! I ever must complain Of thy craft and cruel cunning; Seeming fix'd here to remain, Still resumes Courses new, repose most shunning. Like calm winds thou passest by us; Lin'd with feathers are thy feet; Thy downy wings with silence fly us, Like the shadows of the night; Or the stream That no beam Of sharpest eye discerns to fleet. Therefore mortals all, deluded To no end, But to an eternal race. Budding youth's vain blooming wit Thinks the spring shall ever last; And the gaudy flowers that sit On Flora's brow, shall never taste Winter's scorn, Nor, forlorn, Bend their heads with chilling blast. Riper age expects to have Harvests of his proper toil: Times to give, and to receive Seeds and fruits from fertile soil: But at length Doth his strength, Youth, and beauty, all recoil. VOL. III. I |