The span of my days measur'd, here I rest,
That is, my Body; but my Soul, his Guest,
Is hence ascended, whither, neither Time,
Nor Faith, nor Hope, but only Love can clime;
Where being now enlightned, she doth know
The Truth of all men argue of below:
Only this Dust doth here in pawn remain,
That, when the world dissolves, she come again.

* * * * *




Mr. _MICHAEL DRAYTON_.


Mr. _Drayton_, one who had drunk as deep a Draught at _Helicon_ as any
in his time, was born at _Athelston_ in _Warwickshire_, as appeareth in
his Poetical Address thereunto, _Poly-Olbion_, Song 13. p. 213.

My native Country then, which so brave Spirits hast bred,
If there be virtue yet remaining in thy earth,
Or any good of thine thou breath'st into my Birth,
Accept it as thine own whilst now I sing of thee,
Of all thy latter Brood th'unworthiest tho' I be.

He was in his time for fame and renown in Poetry, not much inferior, if
not equal to Mr. _Spencer_, or Sir _Philip Sidney_ himself. Take a
taste of the sprightfulness of his Muse, out of his _Poly-Olbion_,