At ten times seven my glass is run, Had overcome the crystal sky. Now you may see, as in a glass, Untill they are threescore and ten; And when their glass is fully run, III. The Young Man's Wish. FROM an old copy, without printer's name, in possession of the editor: probably one from the Aldermary Church-yard press. Poems in triplets were very popular during the reign of Charles I, as also during the Interregnum, and the reign of Charles II. If I could but attain my wish, I'd have each day one wholesome dish, A glass of port, with good old beer, In some clean town a snug retreat, With thousand pounds a year estate. After my house expense was clear, The neighb'ring poor should freely share. To keep content and peace through life, I'd have a prudent cleanly wife, Stranger to noise, and eke to strife. Then I, when blest with such estate, Let them for noisy honours try, But since dame Fortune 's not thought fit To place me in affluence, yet, I'll be content with what I get. He's happiest far whose humble mind, Is unto Providence resign'd, And thinketh fortune always kind. Then I will strive to bound my wish, Instead of wealth and fortune great, I'll from each folly strive to fly, IV. The Midnight Messenger: OR A SUDDEN CALL FROM AN EARTHLY GLORY TO THE COLD GRAVE. In a Dialogue between Death, and a Rich Man; who, in the midst of all his Wealth, received the tidings of his Last Day, to .. his unspeakable and sorrowful Lamentation. To the tune of "Aim not too high," &c. THE following poem, as also those numbered V and VI, belongs to a class of publications which have ever been peculiar favourites with the poor, in whose cottages they may be frequently seen, neatly framed and glazed, and suspended from the white-washed wall. They belong to the school of Quarles, and can be traced to the time when that writer was in the height of his popularity. These religious dialogues are numerous, but the majority of them are very namby-pamby-productions, and unworthy of a reprint. The modern editions preserve the old form of the broadside of the seventeenth century, and are adorned with rude woodcuts, probably copies of the original ones— "wooden cuts Strange, and uncouth; dire faces, figures dire, DEATH. THOU wealthy man of large possessions here, The time is come that thou shalt be no more; RICH MAN. (He started straight and turn'd his head aside, DEATH. I come from ranging round the universe, Where rich and poor, distressèd, bond and free, From crowned Kings to captives bound in chains And now I'm come in fine to conquer you. RICH MAN. I can't nor won't believe that you, pale Death, DEATH. Yes, yes, I am, for did you never know, |