little of such rigid and frigid work as makes us regret the too strenuous and habitual application of so devoted a literary craftsman to his professional round of labour. The fifth of these poems, A Nymph's Passion, is not only pretty and ingenious, but in the structure of its peculiar stanza may remind a modern reader of some among the many metrical experiments or inventions of a more exquisite and spontaneous lyric poet, Miss Christina Rossetti. The verses 'on a lover's dust, made sand for an hour-glass,' just come short of excellence in their fantastic way; those on his picture are something more than smooth and neat; those against jealousy are exceptionally sweet and spontaneous, again recalling the manner of the poetess just mentioned; with a touch of something like Shelley's—
I wish the sun should shine
On all men's fruits and flowers, as well as mine—
and also of something like George Herbert's at his best. The Dream is one of Jonson's most happily inspired and most happily expressed fancies; the close of it is for once not less than charming.
Of the various elegies and epistles included in
