Of all there seems a second birth,
It is become a heaven on earth,
And Jove is present here.
I feel the god-head; nor will doubt
But he can fill the place throughout,
Whose power is every where.
This, this, and only such as this,
The bright Astræa's region is,
Where she would pray to live,
And in the midst of so much gold,
Unbought with grace, or fear unsold,
The law to mortals give.

Here they dance the Galliards and Corantos.

Pallas [ascending, and calling the Poets].
'Tis now enough; behold you here,
What Jove hath built to be your sphere,
You hither must retire.

And as his bounty gives you cause
Be ready still without your pause,
To shew the world your fire.

Like lights about Astræa's throne,
You here must shine, and all be one,
In fervour and in flame;

That by your union she may grow,
And, you sustaining her, may know
The Age still by her name.

Who vows, against or heat or cold,
To spin your garments of her gold,
That want may touch you never;
And making garlands ev'ry hour,
To write your names in some new flower,
That you may live for ever.

Cho. To Jove, to Fove, be all the honour given,

That thankful hearts can raise from earth to heaven.

It is with regret I inform the reader that the excellent old folio here deserts us. I am not quite sure that the concluding pages enjoyed the benefit of Jonson's superintendence; but as by far the greatest portion of the volume undoubtedly did, it is come down to us one of the correctest works that ever issued from the English press.

The second folio, which has a medley of dates from 1630 to 1641, has no such advantages. No part of it, I am well persuaded, was seen by Jonson; as, exclusive of the press-errors, which are very numerous, there is a confusion in the names of the speakers, which he could not have overlooked. I have revised it with all imaginable care, and endeavoured to preserve that uniformity of arrangement of which he was apparently so solicitous.

CHRISTMAS HIS MASQUE.] Not dated in the second folio; but probably printed after the author's death. It is a humorous trifle, calculated for the season, and merely intended to excite an hour's merriment, as introductory, perhaps, to some entertainment of a higher kind. Granger, in his Biographical Dictionary, vol. ii. p. 296, 8vo. after bestowing just praise on Milton's admirable Masque, very gravely adds, "but the generality of these compositions are trifling and perplexed allegories. Ben Jonson, (poor Ben is always the foil,) in his Masque of Christmas, has introduced 'Minced Pye' and 'Babie Cake,' who act their parts in the drama. But the most wretched of these performances could please by the help of musick, machinery, and dancing." The masque before us had not the advantage of much machinery, I suspect. But could Granger find nothing in Jonson to oppose to Comus, but this magnificent "drama,” as he is pleased to call it! an innocent Christmas gambol, written with no higher end in view than producing a hearty laugh from the good natured James, and the holyday spectators of the show. But such is the mode in which Jonson is constantly treated; and yet the critics who institute these parallels, (not exactly "after the manner of Plutarch," it must be granted,) are astonished at being told that they always want candour, and not seldom common sense. Granger's ridiculous parade of "perplexed allegories," &c., is worse than useless here. They might indeed perplex him; but he should have recollected that Minced Pye and Babie Cake were sufficiently familiar to those who witnessed their appearance; and that ignorance is the worst of all possible pleas for the contemptuous sneer of criticism.