Among thy saints elected to abide, II. Shall I there rest! AN HYMN TO GOD THE FATHER. EAR me, O God! A broken heart Been stern to me, Myself and thee. For, sin's so sweet, As minds ill bent Rarely repent, Their punishment. Who more can crave Than thou hast done? That gav'st a son First made of nought; Sin, death, and hell And slight the same. But, I'll come in, Under his cross. III. AN HYMN ON THE NATIVITY OF MY SAVIOUR. SING the birth was born to-night, The angels so did sound it. Who saw the light, and were afraid, Yet search'd, and true they found it. The Son of God, the Eternal King, And freed the soul from danger; The Father's wisdom will'd it so, Both wills were in one stature; And as that wisdom had decreed, What comfort by him do we win, To make us heirs of glory! To see this Babe, all innocence Can man forget this story? 2 He whom the whole world could not take,] i. e. contain, a latinism, Quem non capit. A CELEBRATION OF CHARIS. 1 I. HIS EXCUSE FOR LOVING. ET it not your wonder move, Clothes, or fortune, gives the grace; Though I now write fifty years.] This fixes the date of this little collection to 1624, the last year of health, perhaps, which the poet ever enjoyed. There is a considerable degree of ease and elegance in these effusions; and, indeed, it may be observed in general, of our poet's lyrics, that a vein of sprightliness and fancy runs through them which a reader of his epistles, &c., is scarcely prepared to expect. In the latter, Jonson, like several other poets of his age, or rather of his school, who also succeeded in lyrics, sedulously reigns in the imagination, and contents himself with strength of sentiment and thought, in simple but vigorous language, and unambitious rhyme. His "Charis" has all the vivid colouring of the best ages of antiquity; and it is truly delightful to mark the grace and ease with which this great poet plays with the boundless mass of his literary acquisitions. |