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in his UNDERWOODS。
Original reads FOR。
〃Which ensuing times shall warble； When 'tis lost； that's writ in marble。〃 Wither's FAIR VIRTUE； THE MISTRESS OF PHILARETE； 1622。
Headley （SELECT BEAUTIES； ed。 1810； ii。 p。 42） has remarked the similarity between these lines and some in Collins' DIRGE IN CYMBELINE：
〃Belov'd till life can charm no more； And MOURN'D TILL PITY'S SELF BE DEAD。〃
TO MY WORTHY FRIEND MR。 PETER LILLY： ON THAT EXCELLENT PICTURE OF HIS MAJESTY AND THE DUKE OF YORKE； DRAWNE BY HIM AT HAMPTON…COURT。
See！ what a clouded majesty； and eyes Whose glory through their mist doth brighter rise！ See！ what an humble bravery doth shine； And griefe triumphant breaking through each line； How it commands the face！ so sweet a scorne Never did HAPPY MISERY adorne！ So sacred a contempt； that others show To this； （oth' height of all the wheele） below； That mightiest monarchs by this shaded booke May coppy out their proudest； richest looke。
Whilst the true eaglet this quick luster spies； And by his SUN'S enlightens his owne eyes； He cures his cares； his burthen feeles； then streight Joyes that so lightly he can beare such weight； Whilst either eithers passion doth borrow； And both doe grieve the same victorious sorrow。
These； my best LILLY； with so bold a spirit And soft a grace； as if thou didst inherit For that time all their greatnesse； and didst draw With those brave eyes your royal sitters saw。
Not as of old； when a rough hand did speake A strong aspect； and a faire face； a weake； When only a black beard cried villaine； and By hieroglyphicks we could understand； When chrystall typified in a white spot； And the bright ruby was but one red blot； Thou dost the things Orientally the same Not only paintst its colour； but its flame： Thou sorrow canst designe without a teare； And with the man his very hope or feare； So that th' amazed world shall henceforth finde None but my LILLY ever drew a MINDE。
Mr。； afterwards Sir Peter； Lely。 He was frequently called Lilly； or Lilley； by his contemporaries； and Lilley is Pepys' spelling。 〃At Lord Northumberland's； at Sion； is a remarkable picture of King Charles I； holding a letter directed 'au roi monseigneur；' and the Duke of York； aet。 14； presenting a penknife to him to cut the strings。 It was drawn at Hampton Court； when the King was last there； by Mr。 Lely； who was earnestly recommended to him。 I should have taken it for the hand of Fuller or Dobson。 It is certainly very unlike Sir Peter's latter manner； and is stronger than his former。 The King has none of the melancholy grace which Vandyck alone； of all his painters； always gave him。 It has a sterner countenance； and expressive of the tempests he had experienced。〃Walpole's ANECDOTES OF PAINTING IN ENGLAND； ed。 1862； p。 443…4。
Original reads CARES。
THE LADY A。 L。 MY ASYLUM IN A GREAT EXTREMITY。
With that delight the Royal captiv's brought Before the throne； to breath his farewell thought； To tel his last tale； and so end with it； Which gladly he esteemes a benefit； When the brave victor； at his great soule dumbe； Findes something there fate cannot overcome； Cals the chain'd prince； and by his glory led； First reaches him his crowne； and then his head； Who ne're 'til now thinks himself slave and poor； For though nought else； he had himselfe before。 He weepes at this faire chance； nor wil allow； But that the diadem doth brand his brow； And under…rates himselfe below mankinde； Who first had lost his body； now his minde；
With such a joy came I to heare my dombe； And haste the preparation of my tombe； When； like good angels who have heav'nly charge To steere and guide mans sudden giddy barge； She snatcht me from the rock I was upon； And landed me at life's pavillion： Where I； thus wound out of th' immense abysse； Was straight set on a pinacle of blisse。
Let me leape in againe！ and by that fall Bring me to my first woe； so cancel all： Ah！ 's this a quitting of the debt you owe； To crush her and her goodnesse at one blowe？ Defend me from so foule impiety； Would make friends grieve； and furies weep to see。
Now； ye sage spirits； which infuse in men That are oblidg'd twice to oblige agen； Informe my tongue in labour what to say； And in what coyne or language to repay。 But you are silent as the ev'nings ayre； When windes unto their hollow grots repaire。 Oh； then accept the all that left me is； Devout oblations of a sacred wish！
When she walks forth； ye perfum'd wings oth' East； Fan her； 'til with the Sun she hastes to th' West； And when her heav'nly course calles up the day； And breakes as bright； descend； some glistering ray； To circle her； and her as glistering haire； That all may say a living saint shines there。 Slow Time； with woollen feet make thy soft pace； And leave no tracks ith' snow of her pure face； But when this vertue must needs fall； to rise The brightest constellation in the skies； When we in characters of fire shall reade； How cleere she was alive； how spotless； dead。 All you that are a kinne to piety： For onely you can her close mourners be； Draw neer； and make of hallowed teares a dearth： Goodnes and justice both are fled the earth。
If this be to be thankful； I'v a heart Broaken with vowes； eaten with grateful smart； And beside this； the vild world nothing hath Worth anything but her provoked wrath； So then； who thinkes to satisfie in time； Must give a satisfaction for that crime： Since she alone knowes the gifts value； she Can onely to her selfe requitall be； And worthyly to th' life paynt her owne story In its true colours and full native glory； Which when perhaps she shal be heard to tell； Buffoones and theeves； ceasing to do ill； Shal blush into a virgin…innocence； And then woo others from the same offence； The robber and the murderer； in 'spite Of his red spots； shal startle into white： All good （rewards layd by） shal stil increase For love of her； and villany decease； Naught be ignote； not so much out of feare Of being punisht； as offending her。
So that； when as my future daring bayes Shall bow it selfe in lawrels to her praise； To crown her conqu'ring goodnes； and proclaime The due renowne and glories of her name： My wit shal be so wretched and so poore That； 'stead of praysing； I shal scandal her； And leave； when with my purest art I'v done； Scarce the designe of what she is begunne： Yet men shal send me home； admir'd； exact； Proud； that I could from her so wel detract。
Where； then； thou bold instinct； shal I begin My endlesse taske？ To thanke her were a sin Great as not speake； and not to speake； a blame Beyond what's worst； such as doth want a name； So thou my all； poore gratitude； ev'n thou In this wilt an unthankful office do： Or wilt I fling all at her feet I have： My life； my love； my very soule； a slave？ Tye my free spirit onely unto her； And yeeld up my affection prisoner？ Fond thought； in this thou teachest me to give What first was hers； since by her breath I live； And hast but show'd me； how I may resigne Possession of those thing are none of mine。
i。e。 A