[Footnote 4: "Thomas Sackville, Lord Buckhurst, was born in 1527. While a student of the Inner Temple, he wrote his tragedy of 'Gorboduc', which was played before Queen Elizabeth at Whitehall, in 1561. This tragedy, and his contribution of the Induction and legend of the Duke of Buckingham to the 'Mirrour for Magistraytes', compose the poetical history of Sackville. The rest of it was political. In 1604, he was created Earl of Dorset by James I. He died suddenly at the council-table, in consequence of a dropsy on the brain."--'Specimens of the British Poets', by Thomas Campbell, London, 1819, ii. 134, 'sq'.] [Footnote 5: Charles Sackville, Earl of Dorset [1637-1706], esteemed the most accomplished man of his day, was alike distinguished in the voluptuous court of Charles II. and the gloomy one of William III. He behaved with great gallantry in the sea-fight with the Dutch in 1665; on the day previous to which he composed his celebrated song ["'To all you Ladies now at Land'"]. His character has been drawn in the highest colours by Dryden, Pope, Prior, and Congreve. 'Vide' Anderson's 'British Poets', 1793, vi. 107, 108.] [Footnote i: 'To the Duke of D-----'. ['Poems O. and T.']] [Footnote ii: 'D-r-t'-----. ['Poems O. and T.']] [Footnote iii: Yet D-r-t-----. ['Poems O. and T.'] [Footnote iv: 'D--r--t farewell.' ['Poems O. and T.']] TO THE EARL OF CLARE. [i] Tu semper amoris Sis memor, et cari comitis ne abscedat imago. VAL. FLAC. 'Argonaut', iv. 36. 1. Friend of my youth! when young we rov'd, Like striplings, mutually belov'd, With Friendship's purest glow; The bliss, which wing'd those rosy hours, Was such as Pleasure seldom showers On mortals here below. 2. The recollection seems, alone, Dearer than all the joys I've known, When distant far from you: Though pain, 'tis still a pleasing pain, To trace those days and hours again, And sigh again, adieu! 3. My pensive mem'ry lingers o'er, Those scenes to be enjoy'd no more, Those scenes regretted ever; The measure of our youth is full, Life's evening dream is dark and dull, And we may meet--ah! never! 4. As when one parent spring supplies Two streams, which from one fountain rise, Together join'd in vain; How soon, diverging from their source, Each, murmuring, seeks another course, Till mingled in the Main! 5. Our vital streams of weal or woe, Though near, alas! distinctly flow, Nor mingle as before: Now swift or slow, now black or clear, Till Death's unfathom'd gulph appear, And both shall quit the shore. 6. Our souls, my Friend! which once supplied One wish, nor breathed a thought beside, Now flow in different channels: Disdaining humbler rural sports, 'Tis yours to mix in polish'd courts, And shine in Fashion's annals; 7.