Day's glorious eye! even as a mighty king About his country stately progressing, Is compass'd round with dukes, earls, lords, and knights, (Orderly marshall'd in their noble rites,) Esquires and gentlemen, in courtly kind, And then his guard before him and behind. And there is nought in all his royal muster, But to his greatness addeth grace and lustre: So, while about the world thou ridest aye, Which only lives through virtue of thy ray, Six heavenly princes, mounted evermore, Wait on thy coach, three behind, three before; Besides the host of th' upper twinklers bright, To whom, for pay, thou givest only light. And, even as man (the little world of cares) Within the middle of the body bears His heart, the spring of life, which with proportion Supplieth spirits to all, and every portion: Even so, O Sun, thy golden chariot marches Amid the six lamps of the six low arches Which seele the world, that equally it might Richly impart them beauty, force, and light. Praising thy heat, which subtilly doth pierce The solid thickness of our universe: Which in the earth's kidneys mercury doth burn, And pallid sulphur to bright metal turn; I do digress, to praise that light of thine, Which if it should but one day cease to shine, Th' unpurged air to water would resolve, And water would the mountain tops involve. Scarce I begin to measure thy bright face Whose greatness doth so oft earth's greatness pass, And which still running the celestial ring, Is seen and felt of every living thing; But that fantastic'ly I change my theme To sing the swiftness of thy tireless team, To sing how, rising from the Indian wave, Thou seem'st (O Titan) like a bridegroom brave, Who, from his chamber early issuing out In rich array, with rarest gems about, With pleasant countenance and lovely face, With golden tresses and attractive grace, Cheers at his coming all the youthful throng That for his presence earnestly did long, Blessing the day, and with delightful glee, Singing aloud his epithalamie. RICHARD BARNFIELD. Of him we only know that he published several poetical volumes between 1594 and 1598. We give one beautiful piece, 'To a Nightingale,' which used to be attributed to Shakspeare. ADDRESS TO THE NIGHTINGALE.