Skip directly to:Main content Main navigation

University of Virginia Library

The Poetical Works of Sir William Alexander

Earl of Stirling: Edited by L. E. Kastner ... and H. B. Charlton

Stirling, William Alexander (1567 or 8-1640)

collapse section

2.

Volume the Second

[Like Sophocles (the hearers in a trance)]

collapse section

1.

The first Houre.

2.

The second Houre.

3.

The third Houre.

4.

The fourth Houre.

5.

The fifth Houre.

6.

The sixth Houre.

7.

The seventh Houre.

8.

The eighth Houre.

9.

The ninth Houre.

10.

The tenth Houre.

11.

The eleventh Houre.

12.

The twelfth Houre.

To Prince Charles.

A PARÆNESIS TO PRINCE HENRY.

collapse section

I.

Poems suppressed in Recreations with the Muses.

Son. 70.

collapse section

II.

Poems suppressed in Recreations with the Muses.

AN ELEGIE ON THE DEATH OF PRINCE HENRIE.

To his Majestie.

A SHORT VIEW of the state of man.

collapse section

MISCELLANEOUS POEMS.

I.

I. SOME VERSES Written to his Majestie by the Authour at the time of his Maiesties first entrie into England.

II.

II. SOME VERSES Written shortly thereafter by reason of an inundation of Douen, a water neere vnto the Authors house, wherevpon his Maiestie was sometimes wont to Hawke.

III.

III. TO M. MICHAELL DRAYTON.

IV.

IV. To the Author.

V.

V. TO THE AVTHOR PARTHENIVS.

VI.

VII.

VII. On the Death of Mr. John Murray.

VIII.

VIII. A Poem by Sir William Alexander.

IX.

X.

X. To his most affectionate friend, W. Lithgow .

XI.

XI. TO HIS WORTHY FRIEND MASTER WALTER QUIN.

XII.

XII. Sonnet. To the Authour.

XIII.

XIII. On the Report of the Death of the Author.

XIV.

XIV. To his deservedlie honored frend, Mr. Edward Allane, the first founder and Master of the Colleige of Gods Gift.

XV.

XVI.

collapse section

Collapse All | Expand All expand section

497

Son. 70.

[Some gallant sprites whose waies none yet dare trace]

Some gallant sprites whose waies none yet dare trace,
To shew the world the wonders of their wit,
Did (as their tossed fancies thought most fit)
Forme rare Idæas of a diuine face.
Yet neuer Art to that true worth attain'd,
Which Nature now growne prodigall, imparts
To one, deare one, whose sacred seuerall parts,
Are more admir'd then all that Poets fain'd.
Those bordring climes that boast of beauties shrine,
If once thy sight enrich'd their soiles (my loue:)
Then all with one consent behou'd t'approue,
That Calidon doth beauties best confine.
But ah, the heau'n on this my ruine sounds,
The more her worth, the deeper are my wounds.