To my kinde friend Da: Murray.
I N new attire (and put most neatly on)
Thou Murray mak'st thy passionate Queene apeare,
As when she sat on the Numidian throne,
Deck'd with those Gems that most refulgent were.
So thy stronge muse her maker like repaires,
That from the ruins of her wasted vrne,
Into a body of delicious ayres:
Againe her spirit doth transmigrated turne,
That scortching soile which thy great subiect bore,
Bred those that coldly but expres'd her merit,
But breathing now vpon our colder shore,

Even as the Eagle through the empty skie,
Conuoies her young ones on her soaring wings,
Aboue the azur'd vaults, till shee them brings,
Where they on Phaebus glorious beames may pry:
So (mighty Prince) my Muse now soares on high,
Aboue the vulgar reach, to higher spheares,
With this scarse ripened Eaglet-birth of hers,
Vnto the view of your Maiestick eye,
But if it hap, as hap, I feare, it shall,
Shee may not bide your censures dazeling touch,
The higher flight, the more renowned fall,
It shall suffice, that her attempt was such,

HENRY Prince of Wales, Duke of Cornwall and
Rothsay, Knight of the most noble order of the
Garter .

Thrise Noble Prince, by birth, by blood, by fame,
Renown'd by all, whom all men do adore,
Not so much lou'd for greatnesse of your name,
As for those vertues does your name decore:
Young Haeros , whose haeroick actions sore
Beyond the limits of your yet-spent yeares,
Braue stately minde, wherein this time doth glore,
Whose praises praysing parts, the world admires:

Day came. The light lay cold upon
The tarn, the watching mound.
The rushes like ranged frozen spears
Were still. There was no sound.

But on the high rim of the sky
Two clouds like phantoms fell.
They grew; they moved together like
Two armies terrible.

They met; they broke in fire-split smoke —
A red ball in the sky!
A ball of fire — it raged, and turned
To ashes suddenly.

I

Upon the other side of that worn pad
My eye began to weed a poet's soul
Out of the scanty sentences I saved: —
The landmarks of some mood writ out at large
In an epistle to a trusted friend,
The bulk of which having perished, what remained
Showed like some mighty mind that threw its light
On some far period in the dawn of time.

II

" Where shall I plant my foot "; — Starting with doubt,
Or what is kin to doubt — perplexity: —
Ah! little knows the garrulous world of men

I

I T chanced while being in that idle mood
When every vagrant object from without,
Through the dim windows which our senses make,
Hath liberty to cast upon the mind
Its shadow, as it passes and is lost,
That I sate toying with a blotting-pad,
And with a thousand thoughts fantastical
Watched the innumerable glancing waves
Upspringing, 'neath the touches of the sun,
Whose fingers swept the playful ocean crests,
And forming in the region of the clouds
A lovely continent of fairy lands,

Ave, Maris Stella

Hail, thou brightest Star of Ocean,
Hail, thou Mother of our God,
Hail, thou Ever-sinless Virgin,
Gateway of the blest abode.
Ave; 'tis an angel's greeting —
Thou didst hear his music sound,
Changing thus the name of Eva —
Shed the gifts of peace around.
Burst the sinner's bonds in sunder;
Pour the day on darkling eyes;
Chase our ills; invoke upon us

Memento, Salutis Auctor.

Author of Grace, sweet Saviour mine,
Remember that thy flesh divine
From the unsullied Virgin came,
In likeness of our mortal frame.
Mother of Love and Mercy mild,
Mother of graces undefiled,
Protect us now from Satan's power,
And take us at life's closing hour.
All glory be to thee, O Lord,
A Virgin's Son, by all adored,
And equal praise for ever greet
The Father and the Paraclete.

O Gloriosa Domina.

O Glorious Lady, throned in light,
Sublime above the starry height,
Whose arms thine own Creator pressed,
A Suckling at thy sacred breast.
Through the dear Blossom of thy womb,
Thou changest hapless Eva's doom;
Through thee to contrite souls is given
An opening to their home in heaven.
Thou art the great King's Portal bright,
The shining Gate of living light;
Come then, ye ransomed nations, sing
The Life Divine 'twas hers to bring.
Mother of Love and Mercy mild,
Mother of graces undefiled,

Queen terra, pontus, aethera.

Whom earth and sea and sky proclaim
The Ruler of their triple frame,
He, unto whom their praises rise,
Within the womb of Mary lies.
Her womb, the seat of every grace,
Is now the Lord's abiding place;
That Lord to whom the sun by day,
The moon by night, their homage pay.
O happy Mother that thou art,
Close underneath thy beating heart
Lies the Creator-God, who planned
The world he holds within his hand.
Blest by the herald-angel's tongue,
O'er thee God's shadowing Spirit hung