Puslapio vaizdai

Where other trees are blasted to the ground,
Yet, not one leaf of it is withered dry:
Even so, the man that hath a conscience clear,
When wicked men do quake at every blast,
Doth constant stand, and doth no peril fear,
When tempests' rage do make the world aghast:
Such men are like unto the laurel tree,
The others like the blasted boughs that die.

Another is addressed to Sir Wm. Russell, Knight, and is entitled

Strenuorum immortale nomen.

Achilles' tomb upon Sigœa's shore,

This represents: where Thetis oft was seen:
And for his loss, did seem for to deplore;
With gallant flower the same was always green:
And at the top a palm did freshly bloom;

Whose branches sweet did overspread the tomb.
Which shews, though death the valiant overthrow,
Yet after fate, their fame remains behind;
And triumphs still, and doth no conquest know
But is the badge of every noble mind:

And when in grave their corps inclosed lie,
Their famous acts do pierce the azure sky.

Although the subject of the following emblem is trite, the author's simple manner of treating it has rendered it very agreeable.

Animus, non res.


In christal towers, and turrets richly set

With glittering gems, that shine against the sun :
In regall rooms of jasper, and of jet,
Content of mind not always likes to won:
But oftentimes, it pleaseth her to stay
In simple cotes, clos'd in with walls of clay.

Diogenes, within a ton did dwell,

No choice of place, nor store of pelf he had:
And all his goods, could Bias bear right well,
And Codrus had small cates his heart to glad :

His meat was roots: his table was a stool,
Yet these for wit did set the world to school.

Who covets still, or he that lives in fear,

As much delight is wealth unto his mind,
As music is to him that can not hear,

Or pleasant shows and pictures to the blind:
Then sweet content oft likes the mean estate,
Which is exempt and free from fear and hate.

What man is rich? not he that doth abound.
What man is poor? not he that hath no store.
But he is rich that makes content his ground,

And he is poor that covets more and more.

Which proves the man was richer in the ton,
Than was the king that many lands had won."

The Emblems of Henry Peacham, a member of Trinity College, Cambridge, a master of arts, a beggar, and a poet, next claim our notice. They are simple, and are characterized by a poetical turn of expression. We shall introduce two of them to the acquaintance of our readers.

Vos vobis.

The painful bee who many a bitter show'r

And storm had felt, far from his hive away,
To seek the sweetest honey-bearing flower,
That might be found, and was the pride of May,
Here lighting on the fairest he might spy,
Is beat by drones, by wasp and butterfly.

So men there are sometimes of good desert,
Who painfully have labour'd for the hive,
Yet must they with their merit stand apart,
And give a far inferior leave to thrive ;

Or be perhaps, if gotten into grace,
By waspish envy beaten out of place.

Sic vos non vobis.


These little creatures here, as white as milk,
That shame to sloth, are busy at their loom
All summer long in weaving of their silk,

Do make their webs both winding sheet and tomb;
Thus to th' ungrateful world bequeathing all
Their lives have gotten at their funeral.



Even so the webs our wits for others weave,
Even from the highest to the meanest worm,
But Siren-like in the end our selves deceive,
Who spend our time to serve another's turn,

Or paint a fool with coat or colours gay,
To give good words or thanks, so go his way.

These specimens will suffice for Henry Peacham, who was author of several other works, as The complete Gentleman, The Valley of Variety, &c. The cordial we have prepared for those who have emblematic tendencies, is chiefly compounded of simples-the ingredients, however, are of a pleasant kind and will, we flatter ourselves, make it agreeable to such as may venture to try it. We honestly confess that we have no design in this article to surprize any prodigal into economy, or any rake into sobriety -or to convert any naughty man, woman, or child, if there can possibly be such amongst our readers, into the opposites of their bad qualities; our sole object is to amuse, and with this view we are as anxious not to fall short of, as to exceed in variety. We now come to that man of many books-that unwearied scribe-that demure looking Whipper of Abuses, George Wither. What a solemn coxcomb he is, and yet the fellow has some poetry in him-but our readers have heard of George Witherthey know him by name and reputation, if they have never read his works, and we strongly suspect there are few who have done so.


The origin of his book of Emblems is thus described in the preface. "These Emblems," says he, graven in copper by Crispinus Passæus, (with a motto in Greek, Latin, or Italian round about every figure, and with two lines or verses in one of the same languages, paraphrasing these mottoes,) came to my hands almost twenty years past. The verses were so mean, that they were afterwards cut off from the plates; *** yet the workmanship being judged very good for the most part, and the rest excusable, some of my friends were so much delighted in the graver's art, and in those illustrations, which for mine own pleasure I had made upon some few of them, that they requested me to moralize the rest; which I condescended unto; and they had been brought to view many years ago, but that the copper prints (which are now gotten) could not be procured out of Holland upon any reasonable conditions." If," he continues," they were worthy of the graver's and printer's cost, being only dumb figures, little useful to any but to young gravers or painters; and as little delightful, except to children or childish-gazers; they may now be much more worthy, seeing the life of speech being added unto them, may make them teachers and remembrancers of profitable things.'




Wither was induced, rather in order to advance the profit of his bookseller, than to satisfy his own judgement, to invent something in addition to the Emblems, which might be likely to delight the vulgar capacity; and observing, " that where the summer bowers of recreation are placed near the church, it draws thither more people from the remote hamlets, than would else be there," he has appointed lotteries to the emblems, to occasion more frequent notice of the morals and good counsels tendered in their illustrations.' He had some misgivings about the decorum of a man of his gravity and ripe age turning fortuneteller; he, however, satisfied himself that it was harmless, for he did not, like the more confident professors of this art, mean that it should be used as an oracle, but as a moral pastime.' The plan of this, the only moral lottery we ever heard of, is as follows. At the end of each of the four books of Emblems, is a string of fifty-six verses on different tempers, qualities, &c. called the lottery, the first fifty of each of which answer to and are illustrated by the fifty emblems, which compose each book: at the end of the volume, are two circular indexes, one to the books, and the other to the numbers of the verses; by turning the pointer of these indexes, the book and number of the verses is found, and the inquiries of the curious answered.

It is time, however, that we come to the Emblems themselves. The prints are in general designed with great spirit, and executed with neatness; some of them are exceedingly pretty. Many of the prints and illustrations, especially the former, are borrowed from Alciatus, and such as he has made use of, are amplified, and frequently, though not always, improved. All the illustrations consist of thirty lines each, a limitation which, as might be expected, is sometimes productive of weakness. The general character of Wither's Emblems is that of sound morality, enforced in a sensible style, tinctured with warm religious feelings, and some of them adorned with a few fresh and fragrant flowers of poetry. Of the former part of this character the following is an example.

How fond are they, who spend their precious time
In still pursuing their deceiving pleasures?
And they, that unto airy titles climb,

Or tire themselves in hoarding up of treasures?
For, these are death's, who, when with weariness
They have acquired most, sweeps all away;
And leaves them, for their labours, to possess
Nought but a raw-bon'd carcase wrapt in clay.
Of twenty hundred thousands, who, this hour
Vaunt much of those possessions they have got ;
Of their new purchas'd honours, or the power,

By which they seem to have advanc'd their lot:
Of this great multitude, there shall not three
Remain for any future age to know;
But perish quite, and quite forgotten be,
As beasts devoured twice ten years ago.

Thou, therefore, who desir'st for aye to live,
And to possess thy labors maugre death,
To needful arts and honest actions give
Thy span of time, and thy short blast of breath.
In holy studies exercise thy mind;

In works of charity thy hands imploy;

That knowledge, and that treasure seek to find,
Which may enrich thy heart with perfect joy.
So, though obscured thou appear awhile,
Despised, poor, or born to fortunes low,
Thy virtue shall acquire a nobler stile,
Than greatest kings are able to bestow :

And, gain thee those possessions, which, nor they,
Nor time, nor death have power to take away.


And this of the latter.

When, all the years, our fields are fresh and green,
And, while sweet flowers, and sunshine, every day,
(As oft, as need requireth,) come between
The heavens and earth; they heedless pass away.
The fulness, and continuance of a blessing,
Doth make us to be senseless of the good:
And, if it sometime fly not our possessing
The sweetness of it is not understood.

Had we no winter, summer would be thought
Not half so pleasing: And, if tempests were not,
Such comforts could not by a calm be brought :
For, things, save by their opposites, appear not,
Both health, and wealth, is tasteless unto some,
And, so is ease, and every other pleasure,
Till poor, or sick, or grieved, they become:
And, then, they relish these, in ampler measure.

God, therefore, (full as kind, as he is wise) So temp'reth all the favours he will do us, That we his bounties may the better prize; And make his chastisements less bitter to us.

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