_Underneath this Marble Hearse,
Lies the Subject of all Verse;_
Sidney_'s Sister,_ Pembroke_'s Mother,
Death 'ere thou hast kill'd another,
Fair and learn'd, and good as she,
Time shall throw a Dart at thee._
To descend to the lower Kinds, we meet with what Father _Bouhours_ calls
_Pensées Jolliées_ pretty Thoughts; and we have of that Kind too in
_English_, perhaps to a greater Degree of Excellence, than is to be
found in any other Language; especially those Verses in the
_Spectator_, which are said there to be Originals, as indeed they are,
and inimitable. I question whether a Poet might not as easily imitate
_Milton_ or _Butler_. There are ten _Stanza_'s, and they all of a like
pretty, and natural Turn with the
IIId STANZA.
_The Fountain that wont to run sweetly along,
And dance to soft Murmurs the Pebbles among;
Thou know'st little Cupid, if_ Phoebe _was there,
'Twere Pleasure to look at, 'twere Musick to hear:
But now she is absent I walk by its Side,
And still as it murmurs do nothing but chide;
Must you be so chearful, while I go in Pain,
Peace there with your Bubbling, and hear me complain._
How the _French_ may compare with us, as to this _pretty_ Manner, let us
see by a Comparison. _Menage_ says, that this _Triolet_, as he calls it,
a Sort of low Poetry where one or two Verses are repeated three Times,
was the King of _Triolet_'s, and written by the famous Mons. _Ranchin_:
Le premier Jour de May
Fut le plus Heureux de ma Vie,
Le beau Design que je formay
Le premier Jour de May.
_The first Day of the Month of_ May
_Was the Happiest of my Life,
Ah the fair Design I form'd
The first Day if the Month of_ May.
_Then saw you, then I lov'd,
If you like this fair Design,
The first Day of the Month of_ May
_Was the Happiest of my Life._
Now let us see what an _English_ Poet has said on the First of _May_;
and tho' there is in it hardly any Thing but Words, and those Words
rustick to Affectation; yet they are _Prettiness_ itself compared to
Mons. _Ranchin_'s Guardian, Nº 124: