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The Poetical Works of William Drummond of Hawthornden

With "A Cypresse Grove": Edited by L. E. Kastner
Drummond, William (1585-1649)

expand sectionI. 
Volume the First
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Volume the Second
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FLOWRES OF SION:
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A CYPRESSE GROVE:
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The Entertainment of King Charles.
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TO THE EXEQUIES OF THE HONOVRABLE, Sr. Antonye Alexander, KNIGHT, &c.
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Madrigals, etc.
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Commendatory Verses.
expand sectionI. 
Posthumous Poems. I.
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Posthumous Poems. II.
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Posthumous Poems. III.
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Posthumous Poems. IV.
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ECLOGUES.
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SONNETS AND MISCELLANEOUS PIECES.
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MADRIGALS AND EPIGRAMS.
 xvii. 
xvii.
 xviii. 
xviii. Of Anthea.
 xix. 
xix.
 xx. 
xx. On a lamp.
 xxi. 
xxi. Amarillis to her dog Perlin.
 xxii. 
xxii.
 xxiii. 
xxiii.
 xxiv. 
xxiv. On the lut of Margarite.
 xxv. 
xxv.
 xxvi. 
xxvi.
 xxvii. 
xxvii.
 xxviii. 
xxviii. Epitaph.
 xxix. 
xxix. Epitaph.
 xxx. 
xxx.
 xxxi. 
xxxi.
 xxxii. 
xxxii.
 xxxiii. 
xxxiii.
 xxxiv. 
xxxiv. Epitaphe on a Cooke.
 xxxv. 
xxxv. On a noble man who died at a counsel table.
 xxxvi. 
xxxvi.
 xxxvii. 
xxxvii.
 xxxviii. 
xxxviii.
 xxxix. 
xxxix.
 xl. 
xl.
 xli. 
xli.
 xlii. 
xlii. On the poems of ------
 xliii. 
xliii.
 xliv. 
xliv.
 xlv. 
xlv.
 xlvi. 
xlvi.
 xlvii. 
xlvii.
 xlviii. 
xlviii.
 xlix. 
xlix.
 l. 
l.
 li. 
li. Charles the IX of France.
 lii. 
lii. Out of Passerat.
 liii. 
liii.
 liv. 
liv.
 lv. 
lv. Epitaph.
 lvi. 
lvi. Discontented Phillis.
 lvii. 
lvii. Vindiciae against the Com̄ones for B. C.
 lviii. 
lviii.
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Poems of Doubtful Authenticity.

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91

[viii]

[Why (Worldlings) doe ye trust fraile Honours Dreames?]

Why (Worldlings) doe ye trust fraile Honours Dreames?
And leane to guilded Glories which decay?
Why doe yee toyle to registrate your Names
In ycie Columnes, which soone melt away?
True Honour is not here, that Place it claimes,
Where blacke-brow'd Night doth not exile the Day,
Nor no farre-shining Lampe diues in the Sea,
But an eternall Sunne spreades lasting Beames.
There it attendeth you, where spotlesse Bands
Of Sprights, stand gazing on their soueraigne Blisse,
Where Yeeres not hold it in their cankring Hands,
But who once noble euer noble is:
Looke home, lest he your weakned Wit make thrall,
Who Edens foolish Gard'ner earst made fall.
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