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These Poems are for the first time published in an Edition of DRUMMOND'S POEMS, by permission of the Antiquarian Society of Edinburgh. (Taken from the Archæologia Scotica.)

EDINBURGH.1

INSTALL'D on Hills, hir Head neare starrye bowres,
Shines EDINBURGH, proud of protecting powers.
Justice defendes her heart; Religion east

With temples; Mars with towres doth guard the west;
Fresh Nymphes and Ceres seruing, waite upon her,
And Thetis, tributarie, doth her honour.

The Sea doth Venice shake, Rome Tiber beates,
Whilst she bot scornes her vassall watteres threats.
For scepters no where standes a Towne more fitt,
Nor place where Toune, World's Queene, may fairer sitt.
Bot this thy praise is, aboue all, most braue,
No man did e'er diffame thee bot a slave.

1 This is a translation by Drummond of some Latin lines in praise of our Metropolis, by the celebrated Poet Dr. Arthur Johnstone, beginning Collibus assurgens geminis. The MS. copy,

SONNETS.

TO THE HONORABLE AUTHOr, S. J. Skene.1

ALL Lawes but cob-webbes are, but none such right
Had to this title as these Lawes of ours,

Ere that they were from their Cimmerian bowres
By thy ingenious labours brought to light.
Our Statutes sencelesse statues did remaine,
Till thou (a new Prometheus) gaue them breath,
Or like ag'd Æson's bodye courb'd to death,
When thou young bloud infus'd in euerye veine.
Thrice happye Ghosts! which after-worlds must wow,
That first tam'd barbarisme by your swords,

however, of the original differs wholly from the edition of the Author's Poems printed at Middleburgh in Zealand, 1642, p. 431.

In the first scroll copy of the translation, as well as of the original, the last two lines do not occur, but are supplied from a fair transcript, in which also lines 3 and 4 have been thus amplified.

Scepters and thrones her foot do guide at East,
Mars thundering castle guards her head at Wast,
Where kyths his glorie Phœbus palace stands.
Pallas oppos'd on work setts many hands.
All-ruling deities, Justice and Religion,

Their temples joine and keepe the middle region.

DAVID LAING.

This Sonnet was addressed to Sir John Skene of Curriehill, Clerk Register, on the publication, probably, of his translation of the "REGIAM MAJESTATEM."-D. L.

Then knew to keepe it fast in nets of words;
Hindring what men not suffer would to doe.
To Joue the making of the World is due,
But that it turnes not Chaos, is to you.

SONNET.

O TYMES! O Heauen, that still in motion art!
And by your course confounds us mortall wights!
O flying Dayes! Q ouerglyding Nights,

Which passe more nimble than wind, or archer's dart!
Now I my selfe accuse, excuse your part,
For Hee who fixed your farr-off shining lights
You motion gaue, and did to mee impart

A mind to marke, and to preuent your slights.

Life's web yee still weaue out, still (Foole !) I stay,
Malgré my just resolues on mortall things.
Ah! as the bird surprised in subtile springs,
That beates with wing but cannot flye away;

So struggle I, and faine would change my case,
But this is not of nature, but of grace.

SONNET.

RISE to my soule, bright Sunne of Grace, O rise!
Make mee the vigour of thy beams to proue ;
Dissolue the chilling frost which on mee lies,

That makes mee lesse than looke-warm in thy loue.

Grant mee a beamling of thy light aboue

To know my foot-steps, in these tymes, too-wise;
O guyde my course! and let mee no more moue
On wings of sense, where wandring pleasure flyes.
I haue gone wrong and erred; but ah, alas!
What can I else doe in this dungeon dark?

My foes strong are, and I a fragill glasse,—
Howres charged with cares consume my life's small sparke;
Yet, of thy goodnesse, if I grace obtaine,
My life shall be no losse, my death great gaine.

SONNET.

FIRST in the Orient raign'd the Assyrian Kings;
To those the sacred Persian Prince succeeds;
Then He by whom the World sore-wounded bleeds,
Earth's crowne to Greece with bloodie blade he brings;
Then Greece to Rome the raines of State resignes :
Thus from the mightie Monarche of the Meeds,
To the West World successiuelie proceeds

That great and fatall period of all things ;
Whilst wearied now with broyles and long alarmes
Earth's Majestie her diademe layes downe

This Sonnet evidently alludes to the Four "Monarchicke Tragedies," by Sir William Alexander Earl of Stirling, on the subject of Croesus, Darius, Alexander the Great, and Julius Cæsar; and probably was intended to have been prefixed to the edition printed at London in 1616, and consequently addressed to King James.-D. L.

Before the feet of the vnconquerd Crowne,

And throws her selfe, Great Monarch! in thy armes.
Here shall shee staye, Fates haue ordained so,
Nor has she where, nor further, for to goe!

BEFORE A POEME OF IRENE.1

MOURNE not, faire Greece, the ruine of thy Kings,
Thy temples raz'd, thy forts with flames deuour'd,
Thy championes slaine, thy virgines pure deflowred,
Nor all those greifes which sterne Bellona brings!
But Mourne, fair Greece! Mourne that that Sacred Band
Which made thee once so famous by their Songs,
Forc't by outrageous Fate, haue left thy land,
And left thee scarce a voice to plaine thy wrongs!
Mourne that those Climates which to thee appeare
Beyond both Phoebus and his Sisteres wayes,

To saue thy deedes from Death must lend thee layes,
And such as from Musæus thou didst heare!

For now Irene hath attain'd such fame,

That Hero's Ghost doth weepe to heare her name.

1 It would have been very gratifying to have been able to ascertain on what Poem this very beautiful Sonnet was written, For solemn grandeur, it may be compared with the best of Mil-' ton's sonnets; and the mention of the Sacred Band' may suggest to the Reader his fine words,

And the repeated air

Of sad Electra's Poet had the power

To save the Athenian walls from ruin bare.-D. L.