No More Learning

Straight does a slow and languishing disesise,
Eliza,* Nature's, and his darling, seize ;
Her, when an infant, taken with her charms,
He oft would flourish in his mighty arms.
And lest their force the tender burthen wrong,
Slacken the vigour of his muscles strong,
Then to the mother's breast her softly move.
Which, while she drained of milk, she filled with

love.
But as with riper years her virtue grew,
And every minute adds a lustre new ;



* Elizabeth, Lady Claypole, the Protector's favorite daugh-
ter, died on Friday, 6th August, 1658. ** But as to his High-
ne. sfi, it was observed that his sense of her outw;ir<l misery
ill the pains she endured, took deep impression . ni him. "
Mjiiilstoii, quoted in Carl3'Ie's Cromwell, v<>! . ii. p. 402,
(American edition. )



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OF MARVELL. 157

When with meridian height her beauty shined,
And thorough that sparkled her fairer mind ;
When she with smiles serene, in words discreet,
His hidden soul at every turn could meet ;
Then might youVe daily his affection spied.
Doubling that knot which destiny had tied,
While they by sense, not knowing, comprehend
How on each other both their fates depend.
With her each day the pleasing hours he shares,
And at her aspect ciilms his growing cares ;
Or with a grandsire's joy her children sees.
Hanging about her neck, or at his knees :
Hold fast, dear infants, hold them both, or none ;
This will not stay, when once the other's gone.
A silent fire now wafts those limbs of wax,
And him within his tortured image racks.
So the flower withering, which the garden

crowned,
The sad root pines in secret under ground.
Each groan he doubled, and each sigh she sighed,
Repeated over to the restless night ;
No trembling string, composed to numbers new,
Answers the touch in notes more sad, more true.
She, lest he grieve, hides what she can, her pjiins,
And he, to lessen her*s, his sorrow feigns ;
Yet both perceived, yet both* concealed their

skills.
And so, diminishing, increased their ills.
That whether by each other's grief they fell.
Or on their own redoubled, none can tell.



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15S THE rOK. MS

And now Eliza's purple locks were shorn,
AVhere she so long h<;r fatlier's fate had worn ;
And frequent lightning to lier soul that flies,
Divides the air and opens all the skies.
And now his life, suspended by her breath,
Ran out impetuously to hastening Death.
Like polished mirroi*s, so his steely breast
Had every figure of her woes exprest,
And with the damp of her hist gasps obscured.
Had drawn such stains as were not to be cured.
Fate could not either reach with single stroke,
But, the dear image fled, the mirror broke.
"Who now shall tell us more of mournful swans.