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A honey shower rains from her lips,
shire, and seems to have been educated under the Sweet lights shine in her face ;
patronage of the Pembroke family. In 1579, he was She hath the blush of virgin mind,
entered a commoner of Magdalen Hall, Oxford, The mind of viper's race.
where he chiefly devoted himself to the study of
poetry and history; at the end of three years, he She makes thee seek, yet fear to find;
quitted the university, without taking a degree, and To find, but nought enjoy ;
was appointed tutor to Anne Clifford, daughter of the In many frowns, some passing smiles
Earl of Cumberland. After the death of Spenser, She yields to more annoy.
Daniel became what Mr Campbell calls . voluntary She letteth fall some luring baits,
laureate' to the court, but he was soon superseded For fools to gather up ;
by Ben Jonson. In the reign of James (1603), he Now sweet, now sour, for every taste
was appointed Master of the Queen's Revel's, and She tempereth her cup.
inspector of the plays to be represented by the
juvenile performers. He was also preferred to be a Her watery eyes have burning force,
Gentleman-Extraordinary and Groom of the ChamHer floods and flames conspire;
ber to Queen Anne. Towards the close of his life, Tears kindle sparks-sobs fuel are,
he retired to a farm at Beckington, in Somersetshire, And sighs but fan the fire.
where he died in October 1619. May never was the month of love,
The works of Daniel fill two considerable volumes ; For May is full of flowers;
but most of them are extremely dull. Of this nature But rather April, wet by kind,
is, in particular, his History of the Civil War (beFor love is full of showers.
tween the houses of York and Lancaster), which
occupied him for several years, but is not in the With soothing words enthralled souls least superior to the most sober of prose narratives. She chains in servile bands;
His Complaint of Rosamond is, in like manner, rather Her eye, in silence, hath a speech
a piece of versified history than a poem. His two Which eye best understands.
tragedies, Cleopatra and Philotas, and two pastoral Her little sweet hath many sours ;
tragi-comedies, Hymen's Triumph and The Queen's Short hap immortal harms;
Arcadia, are not less deficient in poetical effect. In Her loving looks are murdering darts,
all of these productions, the historical taste of the
author seems to have altogether suppressed the poetHer songs, bewitching charıns.
ical. It is only by virtue of his minor pieces and Like winter rose and summer ice,
sonnets, that Daniel continues to maintain his place Her joys are still untimely;
amongst the English poets. His Epistle to the CounBefore her hope, behind remorse,
tess of Cumberland is a fine effusion of meditativo Fair first-in fine unkindly.
thought. Plough not the seas, sow not the sands, Leave off your idle pain ;
[From the Epistle to the Countess of Cumberland.] Seek other mistress for your minds Lore's service is in vain.
He that of such a height hath built his mind,
As neither hope nor fear can shake the frame
Of his resolved powers ; nor all the wind
His settled peace, or to disturb the sime : The feebler part puts up enforced wrong,
What a fair seat hath he, from whence he may And silent sees, that speech could not amend :
The boundless wastes and wilds of man survey! Yet higher powers must think, though they repine,
And with how free an eye doth he look down When sun is set the little stars will shine.
Upon these lower regions of turmoil, While pike doth range, the silly tench doth fly,
Where all the storms of passions mainly beat And crouch in privy creeks with smaller fish;
On flesh and blood ! where honour, power, renown, Yet pikes are caught when little fish go by,
Are only gay afflictions, golden toil; These fleet atloat, while those do fill the dish;
Where greatness stands upon as feeble feet There is a time even for the worms to creep,
As frailty doth; and only great doth seem And suck the dew while all their foes do sleep.
To little minds who do it so esteem, The merlin cannot ever soar on high,
He looks upon the mightiest monarch's wars, Nor greedy greyhound still pursue the chase ;
But only as on stately robberies ; The tender lark will find a time to fly,
Where evermore the fortune that prevails And fearful hare to run a quiet race.
Must be the right : the ill-succeeding, mars He that high growth on cedars did bestow,
The fairest and the best-fac'd enterprise. Gare also lowly mushrooms leave to grow.
Great pirate Pompey lesser pirates quails :
Justice he sees, as if reduced, still In Haman's pomp poor Mardocheus wept,
Conspires with power, whose cause must not be ill.
As are the passions of uncertain man;
He sees that, let deceit work what it can,
That the all-guiding Providence doth yet
[Richard II., the Morning before his Murder in
Pomfret Castle.] Whether the soul receives intelligence, By her near genius, of the body's end, And so imparts a sadness to the sense, Foregoing ruin whereto it doth tend ; Or whether nature else hath conference With profound sleep, and so doth warning send, By prophetising dreams, what hurt is near, And gives the heavy careful heart to fear : However, so it is, the now sad king, Toss'd here and there his quiet to confound, Feels a strange weight of sorrows gathering Upon his trembling heart, and sees no ground; Feels sudden terror bring cold shivering ; Lists not to eat, still muses, sleeps unsound; His senses droop, his steady eyes unquick, And much he ails, and yet he is not sick. The morning of that day which was his last, After a weary rest, rising to pain, Out at a little grate his eyes he cast Upon those bordering hills and open plain, Where other's liberty make him complain The more his own, and grieves his soul the more, Conferring captive crowns with freedom poor. O happy man, saith he, that lo I see, Grazing his cattle in those pleasant fields, If he but knew his good. How blessed he That feels not what affliction greatness yields ! Other than what he is he would not be, Nor change his state with him that sceptre wields. Thine, thine is that true life: that is to live, To rest secure, and not rise up to grieve. Thou sitt’st at home safe by thy quiet fire, And hear'st of other's harms, but fearest none : And there thou tell'st of kings, and who aspire, Who fall, who rise, who triumph, who do moan. Perhaps thou talk'st of me, and dost enquire Of my restraint, why here I live alone, And pitiest this my miserable fall ; For pity must have part-envy not all. Thrice happy you that look as from the shore, And have no venture in the wreck you see ; No interest, no occasion to deplore Other men's travels, while yourselves sit free. How much doth your sweet rest make us the more To see our misery and what we be: Whose blinded greatness, ever in turmoil, Still seeking happy life, makes life a toil.
[Selections from Daniel's Sonnets.] I must not grieve, my love, whose eyes would read Lines of delight, whereon her youth might smile ; Flowers have time before they come to seed, And she is young, and now must sport the while. And sport, sweet maid, in scason of these years, And learn to gather flowers before they wither; And where the sweetest blossom first appears, Let love and youth conduct thy pleasures thither, Lighten forth smiles to clear the clouded air, And calm the tempest which my sighs do raise : Pity and smiles do best become the fair ; Pity and smiles must only yield thee praise. Make me to say, when all my griefs are gone, Happy the heart that sigh'd for such a one. Fair is my love, and cruel as she's fair ; Her brow shades frown, altho’ her eyes are sunny ; Her smiles are lightning, though her pride despair ; And her disdains are gall, her favours boney. A modest maid, deck'd with a blush of honour, Whose feet do tread green paths of youth and love; The wonder of all eyes that look upon her : Sacred on earth ; design'd a saint above; Chastity and Beauty, which are deadly foes, Live reconciled friends within her brow; And had she Pity to conjoin with those, Then who had heard the plaints I utter now! For had she not been fair, and thus unkind, My muse had slept, and none had known my mind. Care-charmer Sleep, son of the sable Night, Brother to Death, in silent darkness born, Relieve my anguish, and restore the light, With dark forgetting of my care, return. And let the day be time enough to mourn The shipwreck of my ill-advised youth ; Let waking eyes suffice to wail their scorn, Without the torments of the night's untruth. Cease, dreams, the images of day-desires, To model forth the passions of to-morrow; Never let the rising sun prove you liars, To add more grief, to aggravate my sorrow. Still let me sleep, embracing clouds in vain, And never wake to feel the day's disdain.
Ah, I remember well (and how can I
MICHAEL DRAYTON, born, it is supposed, at Atherston, in Warwickshire, about the year 1563, and the son of a butcher, discovered in his earliest years such proofs of a superior mind, that, at the age of ten, he was made page to a person of quality-& situation which was not in that age thought too humble for the sons of gentlemen. He is said, upon dubious authority, to have been for some time a student at Oxford. It is certain that, in early life, he was highly esteemed and strongly patronised by several persons of consequence; particularly by Sir Henry Goodere, Sir Walter Aston, and the Countess of Bedford: to the first he was indebted for great part of his education, and for recommending him to the countess ; the second supported him for several years. In 1533, Drayton published a collection of his pastorals, and soon after gave to the world his more elaborate poems of The Baron's Wars and England's Heroical Epistles. In these latter productions, as in the History of the Civil War by Daniel, we see symptoms of that taste for poetised history (as it may be called) which marked the age --which is first seen in Sackville's design of the Mirrour for Magistrates, and was now developing itself strongly in the historical plays of Shakspeare, Marlow, and others. On the accession of James L
in 1603. Drayton acted as an esquire to his patron, Sir Walter Aston, in the ceremony of his installa
[Morning in Warwickshire—Description of a tion as a Knight of the Bath. The poet expected
Stag-Hunt.] some patronage from the new sovereign, but was disappointed. He published the first part of his
When Phæbus lifts his head out of the winter's most elaborate work, the Polyolbion, in 1612, and the No sooner doth the earth her flowery bosom brave,
wave, second in 1622, the whole forming a poetical de- At such time as the year brings on the pleasant scription of England, in thirty songs, or books.
east Gilds every lofty top, which late the humorous night Bespangled had with pearl, to please the morning's
As though the other birds she to her tunes would
And, but that nature (by her all-constraining law) The Polyolbion is a work entirely unlike any Each bird to her own kind this season doth invite, other in English poetry, both in its subject and the They else, alone to hear that charmer of the night, manner in which it is written. It is full of topo- (The more to use their ears,) their voices sure would graphical and antiquarian details, with innumerable spare, allusions to remarkable events and persons, as con- That moduleth her tunes so admirably rare, nected with various localities; yet such is the As man to set in parts at first had learn'd of her. poetical genius of the author, so happily does he
To Philomel the next, the linnet we prefer ; idealise almost everything touches on, and so
And by that warbling bird, the wood-lark place we lively is the flow of his verse, that we do not readily The red-sparrow, the nope, the
red-breast, and the wren.
then, tire in perusing this vast mass of information. He seems to have followed the manner of Spenser in his The yellow-pate ; which though she hurt the blooming unceasing personifications of natural objects, such as Yet scarce hath any bird a finer pipe than she. hills, rivers, and woods. The information contained And of these chaunting fowls, the goldfinch not bein this work is in general so accurate, that it is
hind, quoted as an authority by Hearne and Wood.
That hath so many sorts descending from her kind. In 1627, Drayton published a volume containing The Battle of Agincourt, The Court of Faerie
, and The tydy for her notes as delicate as they, other poems. Three years later appeared another The softer with the shrill (some hid ainong the leaves,
The laughing hecco, then the counterfeiting jay: volume, entitled The Muses' Elysium, from which it Some in the taller trees, some in the lower greaves) appears that he had found a final shelter in the Thus sing away the morn, until the mounting sun, family of the Earl of Dorset. On his death in 1631, Through thick exhaled fogs his golden head hath run, he was buried in Westminster Abbey, where a And through the twisted tops of our close corert monument, containing an inscription in letters of
creeps gold, was raised to his memory by the wife of that To kiss the gentle shade, this while that sweetly nobleman, the justly celebrated Lady Anne Clifford,
sleeps. subsequently Countess of Penibroke and Mont
And near to these our thicks, the wild and frightful gomery.
herds, Drayton, throughout the whole of his writings, Not hearing other noise but this of chattering birds, roluminous as they are, shows the fancy and feeling Feed fairly on the lawns ; both sorts of seasoned deer : of the true poet. According to Mr Headley-He Here walk the stately red, the freckled fallow there : possessed a very considerable fertility of mind, which The bucks and lusty stags amongst the rascals strewed, enabled him to distinguish himself in almost every As sometime gallant spirits amongst the multituds. species of poetry, from a trifling sonnet to a long Of all the beasts which we for our venerial2 name, topographical poem. If he anywhere sinks below The hart among the rest, the hunter's noblest game : himself, it is in his attempts at satire. In a most pedantic era, he was unaffected, and seldom exhibits
1 0f all birds, only the blackbird whistleth. his learning at the expense of his judgment.'
? Of hunting, or chase.
Of which most princely chase sith none did e'er report, Until the noble deer, through toil bereav'd of strength, Or by description touch, t'express that wondrous sport His long and sinewy legs then failing him at length, (Yet might have well beseem'd the ancients' nobler The villages attempts, enraged, not giving way songs)
To anything he meets now at his sad decay. To our old Arden here, most fitly it belongs : The cruel ravenous hounds and bloody hunters near, Yet shall she not invoke the muses to her aid ; This noblest beast of chase, that vainly doth but fear, But thee, Diana bright, a goddess and a maid.: Some bank or quick-set finds; to which his haunch In many a huge-grown wood, and many a shady grove, opposed, Which oft hast borne thy bow, great huntress, used to He turns upon his foes, that soon have him inclosed.
The churlish-throated hounds then holding him at At many a cruel beast, and with thy darts to pierce bay, The lion, panther, ounce, the bear, and tiger fierce ; And as their cruel fangs on his harsh skin they lay, And following thy fleet game, chaste mighty forest's With his sharp-pointed head he dealeth deadly queen,
wounds. With thy disheveld nymphs attired in youthful green, The hunter, coming in to help his wearied hounds, About the lawns hast scowr'd, and wastes both far He desperately assails ; until opprest by force,
He who the mourner is to his own dying corse, Brave huntress ; but no beast shall prove thy quarries Upon the ruthless earth his precious tears lets falll here ;
To forests that belongs.
[Part of the Twenty-eighth Song of the Polyolbion.] hounds The labouring hunter tufts the thick unbarbed grounde, But, Muse, return at last, attend the princely Trent, Where harbour'd is the hart; there often from his feed Who straining on in state, the north's imperious flood, The dogs of him do find ; or thorough skilful heed, The third of England call’d, with many a dainty wood, The huntsman by his slot, 1 or breaking earth, per- Being crown'd to Burton comes, to Needwood where ceives,
she shows Or ent’ring of the thick by pressing of the greaves, Herself in all her pomp; and as from thence she flows, Where he had gone to lodge. Now when the hart She takes into her train rich Dove, and Darwin clear, doth hear
Darwin, whose font and fall are both in Derbyshire ; The often-bellowing hounds to vent his secret lair, And of those thirty floods, that wait the Trent upon, He rousing rusheth out, and through the brakes doth Doth stand without compare, the very paragon. drive,
Thus wand'ring at her will, as uncontrollid she As though up by the roots the bushes he would rive. ranges, And through the cumb'rous thicks, as fearfully he Her often varying form, as variously and changes ; makes,
First Erwash, and then Lyne, sweet Sherwood sends He with his branched head the tender saplings shakes, her in ; That sprinkling their moist pearl do seem for him to Then looking wide, as one that newly wak'd had been, weep;
Saluted from the north, with Nottinghain's proud When after goes the cry, with yellings loud and deep, height, That all the forest rings, and every neighbouring So strongly is surpris'd, and taken with the sight, place :
That she from running wild, but hardly can refrain, And there is not a hound but falleth to the chase. To view in how great state, as she along doth strain, Rechating? with his horn, which then the hunter That brave exalted seat beholdeth her in pride, cheers,
As how the large-spread meads upon the other side, Whilst still the lusty stag his high-palm’d head up- All flourishing in flowers, and rich embroideries bears,
dress'd, His body showing state, with unbent knees upright, In which she sees herself above her neighbours bless'd. Expressing from all beasts, his courage in his flight. As wrap'd with the delights, that her this prospect But when th' approaching foes still following he per- brings, ceives,
In her peculiar praise, lo thus the river sings : That he his speed must trust, his usual walk he leaves : • What should I care at all, from what my name I And o'er the champain flies ; which when the as- take, sembly find,
That thirty doth import, that thirty rivers make; Each follows, as his horse were footed with the wind. My greatness what it is, or thirty abbeys great, But being then inbost, the noble stately deer That on my fruitful banks, times formerly did seav; When he hath gotten ground (the kennel cast arrear) Or thirty kinds of fish that in my streams do live, Doth beat the brooks and ponds for sweet refreshing To me this name of Trent, did from that number give?
What reck I ? let great Thames, since by his fortune he That serving not, then proves if he his scent can foil, Is sovereign of us all that here in Britain be ; And makes amongst the herds, and flocks of shag. From Isis and old Tame his pedigree derive; wool'd sheep,
And for the second place, proud Severn that doth Them frighting from the guard of those who had their strive, kеер.
Fetch her 'descent from Wales, from that proud mounBut when as all his shifts his safety still denies, Put quite out of his walk, the ways and fallows tries; Plinillimon, whose praise is frequent them among, Whom when the ploughman meets, his teem he letteth As of that princely maid, whose name she boasts to stand,
bear, T'assail him with his goad : so with his hook in hand, Bright Sabrin, whom she holds as her undoubted heir, The shepherd him pursues, and to his dog doth hallow: Let these imperious floods draw down their long de When, with tempestuous speed, the hounds and hunts- scent men follow;
From these so famous stocks, and only say of Trent,
1 The track of the foot.
1 The hart weepeth at his dying ; his tears are held to bo pre cious in medicino.
That Moreland's barren earth me first to light did The founder sinooth and flat, in other rivers caught, bring,
Perhaps in greater store, yet better are not thought : Which though she be but brown, my clear complexion d The dainty gudgeon, loche, the minnow, and the spring
bleak, Gain'd with the nymphs such grace, that when I first Since they but little are, I little need to speak did rise,
Of them, nor doth it fit me much of those to reck, The Naiads on my brim danc'd wanton hydagies, Which everywhere are found in every little beck ; And on her spacious breast (with heaths that doth Nor of the crayfish here, which creeps amongst my abound)
stones, Encircled my fair fount with many a lusty round: From all the rest alone, whose shell is all his bones : And of the British floods, though but the third I be," For carp, the tench, and bream, my other store Yet Thames and Severn both in this come short of me, among, For that I am the mere of England, that divides To lakes and standing pools that chiefly do belong, The north part from the south, on my so either sides, Here scouring in my fords, feed in my waters clear, That reckoning how these tracts in compass be extent, Are muddy fish in ponds to that which they are Men bound them on the north, or on the south of here.' Trent;
From Nottingham, near which this river first begun Their banks are barren sands, if but compar'd with This song, she the meanwhile, by Newark having run, mine,
Receiving little Synte, from Bever's bat’ning grounds, Through my perspicuous breast, the pearly pebbles At Gainsborough goes out, where the Lincolnian shine :
bounds. I throw my crystal arms along the flow'ry valleys, Yet Sherwood all this while, not satisfied to show Which lying sleek and smooth as any garden alleys, Her love to princely Trent, as downward she doth Do give me leave to play, whilst they do court my flow, stream,
Her Meden and her Man, she down from Mansfield And crown my winding banks with many an anadem; sends My silver-scaled sculls
about my streams do sweep, To Iddle for her aid, by whom she recommends Now in the shallow fords, now in the falling deep : Her love to that brave queen of waters, her to meet, So that of every kind, the new spawn'd numerous fry When she tow'rds Humber comes, do humbly kiss her Seem in me as the sands that on my shore do lie.
feet, The barbel, than which fish a braver doth not swim, And clip her till she grace great Humber with her Nor greater for the ford within my spacious brim,
fall. Nor (newly taken) more the curious taste doth please ; When Sherwood somewhat back the forward Muse The grayling, whose great spawn is big as any pease ;
doth call ; The perch with pricking fíns, against the pike pre- For she was let to know, that Soare had in her song par'd,
So chanted Charnwood's worth, the rivers that along, As nature had thereon bestow'd this stronger guard, Amongst the neighbouring nymphs there was no other His daintiness to keep (each curious palate's proof) lays, From his vile ravenous foe : next him I name the But those which seem'd to sound of Chamwood, and ruff,
her praise : His very near ally, and both for scale and fin, Which Sherwood took to heart, and very much disIn taste, and for his bait (indeed) his next of kin,
dain'd, The pretty slender dare, of many callid the dace, (As one that had both long, and worthily maintain'd Within my liquid glass, when Phoebus looks his face, The title of the great’st and bravest of her kind) Oft swiftly as he swims, his silver belly shows, To fall so far below one wretchedly confined But with such nimble flight, that ere ye can disclose Within a furlong's space, to her large skirts comHis shape, out of your sight like lightning he is shot ; pared : The trout by nature mark'd with many a crimson spot, Wherefore she, as a nymph that neither fear'd not As though she curious were in him above the rest, cared And of fresh-water fish, did note him for the best; For ought to her might chance, by others love or The roach whose common kind to every flood doth fall; hate, The chub (whose neater name which some a chevin With resolution arm'd against the power of fate, call)
All self-praise set apart, determineth to sing Food to the tyrant pike (most being in his power), That lusty Robin Hood, who long time like a king Who for their numerous store he most doth them within her compass lived, and when he list to range devour;
For some rich booty set, or else his air to change, The lusty salmon then, from Neptune's wat'ry realm, To Sherwood still retired, his only standing court, When as his season serves, stemming my tideful Whose praise the Forest thus doth pleasantly report : stream,
“The merry pranks he play'd, would ask an age to tell, Then being in his kind, in me his pleasure takes, And the adventures strange that Robin Hood befel, (For whom the fisher then all other game forsakes) When Mansfield many a time for Robin hath been Which bending of himself to th' fashion of a ring, laid, Above the forced wears, himself doth nimbly fling, How he hath cousen'd them, that him would have And often when the net hath drag'd him safe to land, betray'd; Is seen by natural force to 'scape his murderer's hand; How often he hath come to Nottingham disguised, Whose grain doth rise in flakes, with fatness inter- And cunningly escaped, being set to be surprised. larded,
In this our spacious isle, I think there is not one, Of many a liquorish lip, that highly is regarded. But he hath heard some talk of him and Little John ; And Humber, to whose waste I pay my wat'ry store, And to the end of time, the tales shall ne'er be done, Me of her sturgeons sends, that I thereby the more Of Scarlock, George-a-Green, and Much the miller's son, Should have my beauties grac'd with something from Of Tuck the merry friar, which many a sermon made him sent;
In praise of Robin Hood, his outlaws, and their trade. Not Ancum's silver'd eel excelleth that of Trent ; An hundred valiant men had this brave Robin Hood, Though the sweet smelling smelt be more in Thames Still ready at his call, that bowinan were right good,
All clad in Lincoln green, with caps of red and blue, The lamprey, and his lesse, in Severn general be ; His fellow's winded horn, not one of them but knew,