N. B. The following are without Date.

The Titles of Fifteen Tracts in the Royal Collection of Pamphlets

in the British Museum. ........

Two Letters from King James the First.

Letter from the late Mr. Thorpe regarding Taylor's Poem of the

Needle......

Curious Letters on the Marriage of Barnaby Googe, the Poet, with

Mary Darell...

BIOGRAPHIANA.

Letters of Bishop Kennet...

ATHENE CANTABRIGIENSES.

122

207

223

307

..65 to 90

RESTITUTA.

A Poet's Vision and a Prince's Glorie.

Dedicated to

the high and mightie Prince James, King of England, Scotland, France, and Ireland. Written by Thomas Greene, Gentleman.

Imprinted at London for William Leake. 1603.

Quarto. pp. 22.

NEITHER dedication nor preface appears before this little production by T. GREENE, who seems as much unknown to our recorders of the poets of his period, as his contemporary, R. Greene, is well known. His

name indeed occurs in the second volume of Mr. Beloe's Anecdotes of Literature, and in the index to that work; but this has proved to be a misprint for the name of Thomas Greepe, who was the real celebrator of the exploits of Sir Francis Drake, in 1587.

This poem, complimentary to King James, is introduced under the trite fiction of a poetic nap, during which the author hears a lady singing, and the burden of her song was-" I pray thee, write." This awakens him; but he soon after seems to have a waking dream,

and espies a lady sitting with a laurel crown and an ivory lute, who proves to be one of the Muses. To him she condescendingly both plays and sings, and then they enter into a long colloquy, of which the following is the most interesting passage.

In Boeotia, my Sisters eight and I,

Which once (said she) were elevated high,
And well esteem'd in former ages past,
Untill these dead corrupted times came last;
And ev'ry yeare to us had tribute paide
By choycest wits, for lending them our aide,
Have long instead of tribute beene disgrac't,
And all our names from memory displac't;
For want whereof we all were growne so poore,
That we could scarce keepe miserie from our doore.
The chiefest pay we had to set us forth

In all our wants, came from the princely North:
And some from hence from worthie Delia's store,
From sweete Idea, and from some fewe more:
All which so short of that we had before,
To those rich times so slender and so poore,
That with it we ourselves could scarce sustaine;
Our number was so great, so small our gaine.
Others here are, which with their railing Muse
Offend grave ears, and do our names abuse
In bringing forth such monsters to the light,
Whose ougly shapes doe terrifie our sight.

But why should such my peacefull gall excite?
Well they may barke, but they shall never bite.
The whips are made shal yerk them from their places,
Whose roomes shall be adorn'd with better graces.

But now, O ever blest, eternall sweete!

The lawrell and a triple crowne doth meete: