y ^ \ pLiBRARY OF Congress.^ ^ Shelf 1 - i IfeUNITED STATES OF AMERICA-tyI GEMS FROM THE ENGLISH POETS. CHAUCER TO TENNYSON. BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICES OF THE AUTHORS. ILLUSTRA TED. NEW YORK: THE AMERICAN NEWS COMPANY, 39 AND 41 Chambers Street. 38663 o-f,ir< OF coifg?!:?... CONTENTS. PAGS \bsalom and Achitophel, From . . JohnBryden. . 135 4chitophel'8 Address to Monmouth . John Bryden . . 137 Adam and Eve's Morning Hymn . John Milton . . 99 Adam's Address to Eve . . . John Milton . . 96 Address to the Mummy . . . Horace Smith . 384 Address to Contemplation . . . Ifenry Kirke White 411 Address to Gold Fishes . , . Hartley Coleridge . 448 Adieu to his Native Land . . . Lord Byron . . 420 Address to the Deity .... Edward Young . 180 Address to the Moon .... Jaims MacpTierson . 281 Address to the Ocean . . . Lard Byron . . 424 Address to the Ocean . Address to Winter . Admiral Hosier's Ghost Advice to a Reckless Youth . Afar in the Desert Alexander's Feast " Ancient Mariner,' From the ' ' An Evening Walk, ' ' Fro»» . AriBtocratic Tyranny . Approach of Age, The . Ascension of Christ Assemblage of the Beasts and Flowers William Dunbar . At Penshurst .... - Mlmund ]\'aller Auld Robin Gray .... Lady Anne Barnard "Anster Fair," From ... - William Tennant Autumn— " Season of Mists " . . John Keats . . Bnjan Walter Proctor 429 William Cowper . 263 . Richard Glover . . 219 Ben Jonson . . 63 . Thomas Pringle . 426 John Bryderi . . 141 Samuel Taylor Coleridge 371 William Wordsworth 345 , Philip Massinger . 67 George Crahbe . . 310 . William Drummond . 70 21 87 " Babe Christabel," From Ballad of Sir Patrick Spens gattle of Blenheim, The Gerald Massey . Sir Thtrkk Spens Joseph Addison 414 445 500 19 16a iv CONTENTS. PAGE Battle of Morgarten, The . . . Mrs. Hcmans . 440 Beggar, The Rev. TJiomas Moss . 286 Beth Gelcrt William R. Spencer 351 Betrothed Pair, The .... George Crabbe . . 306 Bird Let Loose, The .... Thomas Moore . 399 Birks of Invermay, The .... Daniel Mallett . . 209 "Birthof the Flowers," From the . David M. Moir . 460 Black-eyed Susan John Gay . . 197 Bonny Kilmeny James Hogg . . 353 Bower of Bliss, The .... Edmund Spenser . 30 Braes o' Glenifier, The . . . Robert Tannahill . 378 Braes of Yarrow . . . . . William, Hamilton . 212 British Navy, The .... Edmund Waller . 86 Braid Claith Robert Ferguson . 299 Burial of Sir John Moore . . Rev. Charles Wolfe 433 Buried Flower, The .... Prof. Ayioun . . 491 Burning Babe, The .... Robert Soidhwell . 48 Bush Aboon Traquair, The . . . Robert Crawford . 210 Byron Robert Pollok . . 463 Calm Winter's Night, A . . . Percy Bysshe Shelley 436 Cameronian's Dream, The . . . James Hislop . . 455 Castaway, The William Cowper . 269 Castles in the Air .... James Rallantine . 478 "Castle of Indolence," From the , James Thomson . 205 Cathedral, The Lord Byron . . 422 " Cato," From Tragedy of . . Joseph Addison . 162 Celia, To Ben Jonson . . 62 Chameleon, The .... Matthew Pi-ior . 151 Chameleon, The James Merrick . . 231 Character of Buckingham . . John Drydcn . 139 Character of the French . . . William Cowper . 259 Character of Shaftesbury . , Johti Dryden . 235 Charity Matthew Prior . . 150 Chevy Chase ..... Richard Sheale . 14 Chillon Lord Byron . . 417 Christ's Kirk of the Green . . James L of Scotland 11 Christ the Only Refuge . . . Rev. Charles Wesley . 214 Christian Soldier, The . . . Jam^s Montgomery 368 Christian's Warfare, The . . . Charlotte Elizabeth . 430 " Christabel," From . . . Samuel Taylor ColeHdge 374 Christmas Bells Alfred Tennyson . 483 City Shower, A .... Jonathan Swift , 153 CONTENTS. V PAGE Clear the Way Cfiarles Mackay . 489 "Conference," From the . . Charles Churchill . 257 Coming of Christ, The . . . Beginald Ileber . . 404 Common Lot, The .... Jaines Montgomery 367 " Comus," From John Milton . . 104 Contrast, The William Cowper . 260 Convict Ship, The . . . Thomas Kibble Harvey 469 Cooper's Hill . . . . , Sir John Denham . 121 " Cottar's Saturday Night," From the Eobcrt Burns . 315 Country in Autumn .... John Logan . . 296 Crazed Maiden, The . . . George Crabbe . 311 Crucifixion of Christ .... Jane Taylor . . 402 Cultivated Taste, A . . . . Mark Akenside . 233 Cures for Melancholy .... Matthew Green . . 198 DaAvnings of Genius . . . John Clare . . 438 Dear Harp of My Country . . . Thomas Moore . . 430 Death and Dr. Hornbook . . Robert Burns . 318 Death of Marmion .... Sir Walter Scott . 361 Death of Sir Henry De Bohun . John Barbour . 7 Death of the Fawn .... Andrew Marvel . 129 Death of the Warrior King . . Charles Swain . 474 Death the Conqueror of All . . James Shirley . . 84 Decay of Life Francis Quarles . 77 Deceit of Appearances, The . . William Shakespeare 55 Delight in God Only . . . Francis Quarles . 76 Deserted Village, The .... Oliver Goldsmith . 247 Doubting Heart, A . . . . Adelaide Anne Proctor 502 " Douglas," From Tragedy of . . John Home . . 242 Dream, The Lord Byron . . 418 " Dunciad," From the ... Alexander Pope . 191 Dying Christian to his Soul, The . Alexander Ibpe . 187 Early Rising and Prayer . . . Henry Vaughan . 132 Earth and Heaven . . . .Dr. Isaac Watts . 163 Edwin James Beattie . 275 Elegy on an Unfortunate Lady . Alexander Pope . 187 Elegy Written in a Country Church- yard Thomas Gray . 226 Elegy Written in Spring . . . Michael Bruce . . 290 Elephant in the Moon, The . . Br. Samuel Butler 115 Emigrants in the Bermudas, The . Andrew Marvel . 131 vi CONTENTS. PAGB EmptineBS of Riches, The . . . Edward Toung . 179 Epistle to a Young Friend . . Bohert Burns . . 330 " Essay on Criticism," From . . Alexander Ihpe . 188 Eternity '^ohn Gay . . . 194 Evelyn Hope Robert Browning . 490 Evening Hymn .... Bishop Ken . . 145 Evening in Paradise .... John Milton . . 93 Eve's Account of Herself . . John Milton . . 97 "Excursion," From the . . . William Wordsworth 344 Exile of Erin Thomas Campbell . 391 Exile's Song, The .... Bobcrt Gilfillan . 454 Expulsion from Heaven, The . . Jo7m 3filton . . 101 Expulsion from Paradise . . . John Milton . . 102 Faith Amidst Trials .... Blchard Baxter . 123 "Farmer's Boy," From the . . Robert Bloomfield . 339 Faustus CJiristopher Marlowe 49 Fear of Death William Shakespeare 55 "Festus," From . ,' . . Philip James Bailey 496^ Fin'T-aFs Hall Ja^ncs Macphcrson . 281 "Fire Worshippers," From the . Thomas Moore . 39? First The Frances Browne . 49? First of Winter, The . . . John Bethune . 486 Fitz-James and Koderick Dhu . . Sir Walter Scott . 362 Fleeing from Wrath .... Francis Quarles . 77 For Comfort in Death .... Robert Herrick . . 74 " Forest Minstrel," From the . William and Mary Howitt 446 For Twenty-fourth Sunday After Trinity -Kev. John Kcble . 427 Fountain, The Samiiel Rogers . 333 "Frank Courtship," From the . . George Crabbe . .309 Freedom John Barbour . 7 Freeman, The William Couper . 264 Friendship Robert Follok . 462 From a Ballad upon a Wedding . . Sir John Suckling . 109 Ginevra Samuel Rogers . 332 Glory John Milton . . 103 God's Excellence .... Mark Akenside . 233 Good Counsail Geoffry Chaucer . 2 Good Parson, The .... Geoffry Chaucer . 1 "Grave," From the . , . , Robert Blair . ,199 cOisrrUNTS. vii PAGE Grave of Anna, The . . . William Gifford . 313 Graves of a Household, The . . Mrs. Hemans . . 442 Hare and Many Friends, The . . John Gay . . 195 Heaven and Hell Abraham Cowley . 125 Heavenly Sabbath, The . . . Philip Doddridge . 211 Hermit, The James Beattie . . 277 Hermit, The Thomas Farnell , 165 Highland Mary . ... Robert Burns . . 323 " Hind and Panther," From the . JohnDryden . . 140 Hohenlinden Thomas Campbell . 393 Home James Montgcmery 369 " Human Life," From . . . Samuel Hogers . . 331 Hymn— "Awake, Sweet Harp of Judah" Henry Kirke White . 310 Hymn Before Sunrise . . . Samuel Taylor Coleridge 373 Hymn for Christmas Day, A . . Thomas Chatterton . 301 Hymn for the Dead . ... Sir Walter Scott . 359 Hymn of the Captive Jews . . m7iry Hart Milman 435 "Hymn on the Nativity," From . John Milton . . 88 " Hymn on the Seasons," From . James Thomson . 204 Hymn to Content .... Mrs. Barbauld . . 288 Hymn to Contentment . . . Thomas Farnell . 172 Hymn to the Flowers . . . Horace Smith . . 385 Hymn to Light . ' . . . . Abraham Cowley . 126 Hymn to the Name of Jesus . . Richard Crashaw . 110 "Hyperion," From ... . John Keats . . 444 Ilka Blade o' Grass .... James Ballantine . 477 "II Penseroso," From . . . John Milton . . 10? Imagination William Shakespeare 59 Incipit Prophesia Thomae de Erseldoun Thomas tlie Rhymer 3 In Contemption of Side Tails . . Sir David Lindsay . 24 "Intimations of Immortality," From William Wordsivorth 350 Ion, our Sometime Darling . . Thomas N. Talfourd 447 Is This All ? Rev. Horatius Bonar 480 Jaffar Leigh Hunt . . 40^ James L, a Prisoner in Windsor, sees Lady Joan Beaufort . . Jam^s L of Scotland, 9 Jeanie Morrison .... William Motherwell 451 Jenny's Bawbee Sir Alexander Boswell 387 "Joan of Are," From . . . Robert Southey , .376 CONTENTS. Kate of Aberdeen PAGE . John Cunningham 255 "L'Allegro,"From . . . . John Milton . .106 Laird o' Cockpen .... Baroness Nairn . 338 Lament for Earl of Glencairn . . Robert Burns . . 322 Land o' the Leal .... Baroness Nairn . 337 Last Friends, The Frances Browne . 496 Lavinia James Thomson . 205 " Lays of Ancient Rome," From . Lord Macaulay . 465 Letter from Italy .... Joseph Addison . 159 Lie, The Sir Walter Raleigh . 32 Life George Herbert . 80 Life and Death William Shakespeare 54 "Life Drama," From a . . . Alexander Smith . 501 "Light of the Harem," From the . ThomMS Moore . 398 Like as the Armed Knighte . . Anne Askewe . 30 Lines on Churchyard of Richmond Herbert Knowles . 453 Lines on his own Death . . . Jonathan Swift . 155 Lochaber No More . . , . Allan Ramsaij . . 181 " Lochiel's Warning," From . . Thomas Campbell . 392 Lodgings for Single Gentlemen . George Colman . 326 Logan Braes John Mayne . . 324 London Churches . . . Richard Monckton Milnes 484 Lord will Provide, The . . . Rev. John Newton . 243 Lot of Thousands, The . . . Mrs, Hunter . . 287 Love JDr. Samuel Butler . 120 Love of Country .... William Cowper . 262 Love of Country Sir Walter Scott . 358 Lover's Lute, The .... Sir Thomas Wyatt 27 Love Scene from Romeo and Juliet William Shakespeare 52 Lucy's Flittin' William Laidlaw . 475 Maid's Lament, The "Manfred," From . Man whose Thoughts are not of World, The Mariner's Hymn . Mariner's Wife, The Mary's Dream Mary of Castle Cary Mazeppa, From . Meeting, The . . Walter Savage Landor 381 Lord Byron . . 419 this Edward Young . 177 Mrs. Southey , . 415 William, Julius Mickle 273 John Lowe . . 297 Hector MNeill . 291 Lord Byron . . 425 William Cowper , 260 CONTENTS. IX Melrose Abbey Men of Old, The Mercy " Messiah," From the Milton on his Blindness " Minstrel," From the Minstrel, The Ministry of Angels, The . Misletoe Bough, The . Mitherless Bairn, The Modern Lady, A . Modest Muse, The . Morning Morning .... Morning in May . Morning in Paradise Morning Landscape Murder of King Duncan . Music . . , . My Nanie, O . . . My Only Jo and Dearie, O " Nabob," Krom the Name of Jesus, The . Nativity, The . Night Before Waterloo, The Night Piece on Death Nunc Dimittis, The Ode on Eton College Ode on the Death of Mr. Thomson Ode to an Indian Gold Coin . "Ode to the Departing Year," From Ode to Duty .... Ode to Leven Water . Ode to Napoleon Bonaparte . Ode to the Passions . . . . Oh, Thou who Dry'st the Mourner' Tear, Oh ! Why Left I My Hame ? . Old Man's Comforts, The . O, Nancy, wilt Thou Go with Me ? On a Painted Window PAGE . Sir Walter Scott . 357 Richard Monckton Milnes 485 ., William Shakespeare 56 Alexander Pbpe 185 John3Iilton . 109 James Beattie 274 Sir Walter Scott . 357 Edmund Spenser 40 Thomas Haynes Bayly 450 William Thorn . 428 Jonathan Smith 154 Earl of Roscommon 145 Thomas Chatterton 303 Thomas Otway . 149 Gavin Douglas 23 John Milton 99 James Beattie . 276 William Shakespeare 51 William Shakespeare 58 Allan Cunningham 408 Richard Gall 388 Miss Susan Blamire 293 Rev. John Newton . 244 Henry Vaughan 133 Lord Byron . 421 Thomas Parnell . 171 James Merrick 230 Thmnas Gray . 225 William Collins . 241 John Leyden 379 Samuel T. Coleridge 372 William Wordsworth 349 Tobias Geo. Smollett . 235 Lord Byron . 431 William Collins 233 s Thomas Moore . 393 Robert Gilfillan 454 Robert Southey . 377 Br. Thomas Percy . 254 Thomas Warion 253 X CONTENTS. PAQB On a Sprig of Heath . . . Mrs. Grant . . 304 On Byron . . . . . . Boberi Pollok . . 463 On Heavenly Love .... Edmund Spenser . 42 On His Blindness ... . John Milton . . 109 On Lady Joan Beaufort . . . James I. of Scotland , 9 On Love Edmund Waller ; 85 On Life, Death and Immortality , Edward Young . 173 On Marriage Allan Ramsatj . 182 On My Mother's Picture . . . William (Jowper . 267 On Steam Br. Erasmus Darwin 270 On the Death of an Infant . . . Richard Cecil . . 294 On the Death of a Child . . , Rev. CJiarles Wesley 215 On the Death of Dr. Levett . . Br. Samuel Johnson . 218 On the Death of Mr. Crashaw . Abraham Cowley . 124 Orphan Boy's Tale, The . . . Mrs. Opie . . 342 Ossian's Address to the Sun . . James Macijherson 280 Othello Relates his Courtship . . William Shakespeare 53 Paestum Samuel Rogers . 334 "Palestine," From . . . . Reginald Heher .403 Paradise JoJin Milton . . 96 Parental Ode to My Son, A , . Thomas Hood . . 4{)9 Parting Thotnas Otway . 148 Pastoral Ballad, A . , . . William Shenstone . 223 Peace George Herbert . 83 Peasant, The ... . . . George Crahbe . . 305 Phiiastcr, From .... Beaumxint andFlctcher 66 Picture of a Country Life . . . Joanna Baillie . . 325 Pilgrimage, The .... Sir Walter Raleigh 34 Pine Forest by the Sea, The . . Percy Bysshe SJicUcy . 436 Pixies of Devon, The . . . Noel T. Carrington 395 Plan of Salvation, The . . . William Cowper . 260 Pleasures of Heaven, The . . Ikn Jonson . . 63 "Pleasures of Hope," From the . Thomas Camphell . 390 " Pleasures of Memory," From . Samuel Rogers . 329 Poetasters Matthew Prior , . 152 Poet's Wish, The .... A:ian Ramsay . 184 Pole Star, The . . . Letitia E. Landon {L. E. L.) 467 Poor Gallant, The .... Josep.. Hall . .64 Poor Man's Day, The .... Ebenezer Elliot . 400 Portrait, A V/illiam Wordsworth 348 Power and Gentleness . . . Bernard Barton, , 40S CONTENTS. XI Press-gang, The Prisoner in Windsor . Procrastination " Prologue to the Satires, *' Prophecy of Famine," ^•'Psyche," From . . James Ordhame . 336 . . Henry Howard . 28 Edward Young . 178 " From the Alexander Pope . 193 From the Charles CJmrchill . 258 . Mrs. Mary Tigfie . 374 Quince Winthoi'p M. Praed 470 Quip, The George Herbert . . 82 " Rape of the Lock," From . . Alexander Pope . 189 Religio Laici Johji Bnjden . . 139 ** Rejected Addresses," From . James and Horace Smith 383 Religion of Hudibras .... Dr. Samuel Butler . 114 Renewing of Love .... Richard EdtMrds . 31 Retirement Jam£s Beattie . . 278 " Rime of the Ancient Mariner," From the Samuel Taylor Coleridge 37i River Forth Feasting, The . . William Hrummond 69 Roman GirPs Song .... Mrs. Hemans . . 442 Rose, The Br. Isaac Watts . 164 Rule Britannia ..... James Thomson . 206 " Sabbath," From the . James Grahame . 335 "Samson Agonistes," From . Jo7in Milton . 103 Satan's Address to the Sun John Milton . 94 " Satan," From . , Bev. Robert Montgomery 477 Satan's Soliloquy John Milton . 90 Satire on the Three Estates . Sir David Lindsay . 26 School, The . . . William Cmvper . 266 Schoolmistress, The . . , William Shenstone . 223 Search, The George Herbert 80 Self-dedication Reviewed . . Philip Doddridge . 211 Seven Dreary Winters . Gerard Griffin . 473 Shipwreck, The . , John Wdson . 412 "Shipwreck," From the . . William Falconer . 271 Shortness of Life, The , Abraham Cowley . 127 Showers in Spring . James Thomson . 202 " Sir Eustace Grey," From . . George Crabbe . . 313 Skylark, The . . , , Jam£S Hogg . 355 Slavery . William Coioper . 261 Bleeping Child, A , . . . John WUson . 411 xii CONTENTS, PAGB Soldier's Dream, The .... Thomas Campbell . 394 Soldier's Return, The . . . Robert Bloomjleld 341 Solitary Life, A Witliam Drummond 68 Solitude Lord Byroyi . . 423 Song— " Leave Me, Simple Shepherd " J/rs. ^arfta* Wilson, John. 412 Wolfe, Rev. Charles, . 433 Wordsworth, William, 343 Wyatt, Sir Thomas, . 27 Young, Edward, . 173 GEMS FROM THE ENGLISH POETS. 6t0ffrtir dljimar. Born 1358. Died 1400. The Father of English Poetry, as Chaucer is called, was born in London in the year 132S, Very little is known of his parentag'i, but he seems to have lived in comfortable circumstances, having bt^en educated at Cambridge and afterwards sent to travel in Italy. The literature of Italy and a meeting with Petrarch in Padua seem to have inspired the traveller to write in his own rude nortliern tongue. His life seems to have been fortunate beyond that of most poets. Edward III. made him Comptroller of Customs, and gave him a handsome house near Woodstock, where he lived amid all the luxuries of the age. In 1386 Chaucer became involved in the troubles which befell his patron, and had to flee to Holland. He soon made his peace, for in 1389 he was again taken into favour, and Henry IV. doubled his pension. In his sixty-fourth year he retired to Woodstock, to write his great poem, "The Canterbury Tale.s." He died in London on 25th October, 1400, aged seventy-two years, and was the first poet who was buried in the since famous Poet's Corner, in Westminster Abbey. THE GOOD PARSON. (F)-om the "Canterbury Tales.'''') A GOOD man tlier was of religioun, That was a poure Persone of a toun: parson But riche he was of holy thought and werk. He was also a lerned man, a Clerk, That Cristes gospel trewely wolde preclie. His parishens devoutly wolde he techc, parishioners Benigne he was, and wonder diligent, And in adversitee f ul patient : And swiche he was ypreved often sithes. %)rovcd, since Ful loth were him to enrsen for his tithes, But rather wolde he yeven, out of doute, gire Unto his pour^ parishens aboute. Of his olTrmg, and eke of his substance 2 GEMS FROM THE ENGLISH POETS. He coude in litel thing have sufRsance. Wide was his parish, and Jiouses fer asonder But he ne left nought for no rain ne thondcr, In sikenesse and in mischief to visite trouble The ferrest in his parish, moclie and lite, farthest, little Upon his fete, and in his hand a staf. This noble ensample to his shepe he yaf, gav« That first he wrought, and afterward he taught. Out of the Gospel he the wordes caught, And this figure he added yet therto. That if gold ruste, what shuld iren do? For if a preest be foule, on whom we trust. No wonder is a lewed man to rust. Wei ought a preest ensample for to yeve, give By his cleennesse, how his shepe shulde live. He sette not his benefice to hire, And lette his shepe acombred in the mire, loft And ran unto London, unto Seint Poules, To scken him a chanterie for soules, singing endowment Or with a brotherhede to be withold; But dwelt at home, and kepte wel his fold. So that the wolf ne made it not miscarie. He was a shepherd, and no merceudrie. And though he holy were, and vertuous, He was to sinful men not dispitous; unpitying Ne of his speche dangerous ne digne, sparing, proud But in his teching discrete and benigne. To drawen folk to heven with faircness, By good ensample, was his bcsinesse : But it were any persone obstinat, What so he were of highe, or low estat. Him wolde he snibben sharply for the nones. occasion A better preest I trowe that nowher non is. He waited after no pompe ne reverence, Ne maked him no spiced conscience, But Cristes lore, and his apostles twelve, He taught, but first he folwed it himselve. GOOD COUNSAIL. Fly fro the presse, and dwell with sothfastnesse, truth SuflSse unto thy good though it be small, For horde hath hate, and climbing tikelnesse, uncertainty Prease hath envy, and wele is blent over all, wealth, blind Thomas the rhymer. 3 Savour no more than tliee behove shall, desire, benefit Rede well thy selfe that other folk canst rede, counsel And trouth thee shall deliver, it is no drede. Peine thee not ech crooked to redresse, each In trust of her that tourneth as a ball ; fortune Great reste standeth in little businesse, Bewai'e also to spurne againe a nail, nail Strive not as doth a crockc with a wall, earthen pitcher Deme thy selfe that demest others' dedc, judge And trouth thee shall deliver, it is no drede. That thee is sent receive in buxomnesse, humility The wrastling of this world asketli a fall, Here is no home, here is but wildernesse, Forth, pilgrime ! forth, beast, out of thy stall ! Looke up on high, and thanke God of all ! Weive thy lusts, and let thy ghost thee lede, forsake, spirit And trouth thee shall deliver, it is no drede. @^fj0mn;s tlj^ ^fjirmer. About 1300. Thomas of Ercildoune, commonly called Thomas the Rhymer, lived about the year 1300, and was born at his father's patrimonial estate of Ercildoune or Earlston, now a small village in Scotland. Few personages are more renowned than he in tradition, having been, shortly after his death, placed in the highest position both as a poet and a prophet. The popular tale bears " that he was carried away to Fairyland at an early age, where he acquired the knowledge and gifts which made him so famous. After seven years' residence there he was permitted to return to earth, and astonish his countrymen by his powers and prophecies. After some time, while making merry in his Tower of Ercildoune, a person came running in and told him that a hart and hind were slowly parading the street of the village; Thomas rose, and left his house, and followed the animals to the forest, whence he never returned." INCIPIT PROPHESIA THOM^ DE ERSELDOUN. In a lande as I was lent ; In the gryking of the day Ay alone as I went, In- Huntle bankys me for to play ; I saw the throstyl, and the jay. Ye mawes movyde of her song, Ye wodwale sange notes gay. That al the wod about range. In that longyng as I lay, Undir nethe a dern tre, I was war of a lady gay lying peeping wood shady aware GEMS FROM THE ENGLISH POETS. Come rydyng ouyr a fair le : lonely lea Zogh I suid sitt to domysday, though With my tong to wrabbe and wry, twist Certenly all hyr aray, It beth neuyer discryuyd for me. Hyr palfra was dappyll gray, Sycke on say neucr none; As the son in somers day, All abowte that lady schone. Hyr sadel was of a rewel bone ; A semly syght it was to se, Bryght with mony a precyous stone. And compasyd all with crapste ; Stones of oryens, gret plente, Her liair about her liede it hang, She rode ouer the farnyle, He sayd Yonder is Mary of Might, That bar the child that died for me. Certes bot I may speke with that lady bright, Myd my hert will breke in three; I schal me hye with all my might, Hyr to mete "at Eldyn Tre. Thomas rathly up him rase. And ran ouer mountayn hye. If it be sothe the story says, He met her euyn at Eldyn Tre. Thomas knelyd down on his kne Undir riethe the grenewood spray. And sayd, Lovely lady, thou rue on me. Queen of Heaven as you may well be. Tak thy leue, Thomas, at son and mone, At gresse, and at euery tre, This twelmonth sail you with me gone, Medyl erth you sail not se. Alas, he seyd, ful wo is me, I trow my dedes will werke me care. Jesu, my sole tak to ye, Whedir so euyr my body sal fare. She rode furth with all her mizt, Undir nethe the derne lee. It was as derke as at midnizt. And euyr in water unto the kne; Through the space of days thre, He herde but swowyng of a flode ; Thomas sayd, Ful wo is mo, Now I spy 11 for fawte of fode; faint, want gucn, saw vory crimson orrent lonely lea bore haste quickly pity leave might below ground dashing THOMASl THE RHYMER. 5 To a garden she lede liira tyte, soon There was fruyte in grete plente, Peyres and appless ther wer rype, The date and the damese, The figge and als f ylbert tre ; The nyghtyngale bredyng in her neste, The papigaye about gan fle, The throstylcock sang walcl hafe no rest. He pressed to jiulle fruyt with liis hand, As man for faute that was faynt ; want She sayd, Thomas, lat al stand, Or els the deuyl wil the ataynt. Sche seyd, Thomas, I thee hyzt, haste To lay thy hede upon my kne. And thou shalt see fayrer syght, Than euyr sawe man in their kintre. Sees thou, Thomas, yon fayr way, That lyggs ouyr yone fayr playn ? lies Yonder is the way to heuyn for ay. Whan synful sawles haf derayed their payne. suffered Sees thou, Thomas, yon secund way That lygges lawe undirthe ryse? rising Streiglif is the way, sothly to say, To the joyes of paradyce. Sees Thou, Thomas, yon thyrd way, That lygges ouyr yon how? hollow Wide is the way, sothly to say. To the brynyng fyres of helle. Sees thou, Thomas, yone fair castell, That standes ouyr yone fair hill? Of town and tower it beereth the belle, In middell erth is none like theretill. When thou comyst in yone castell gaye, I pray thee curteis man to be ; courteous What so any man to you say, Loke thu answer none but me. My lord is servyd at yche messe, each With XXX kniztes feir and fre ; knights I shall say syttyng on the dese, dais I toke thy speche beyone the le. Thomas stode as still as stone, And behelde that ladye gaye ; Than was sche fayr,, and ryche anone, And also ryal on hir palfreye. royal The grewhoundes had fylde thaim on the dere deer The raches coupled, by my fay, dogs GEMS FROM TPIE ENGLISH POETS. She blewe lier home Thomas to chere, To the castell she went her way. The layde into the hall went, Thomas folowyd at her hand ; Thar kept her mony a lady gent* "With curtasy and lawe. low Harp and fedyl both he fande, ruiCAs The getern and the sawtry, Lut and rybid ther gon gan, Thair was al maner of mynstralsy, The most fertly that Thomas thoght, When he com emyddes the flore, amidst Knyghtes dansyd by two and thre, All that leue long day. Ladyes that were gret of gre, Sat and sang of rych aray. Thomas sawe much more in that place, Than I can descryve, Til on a day, alas, alas, My lovelye layde sayd to me. Busk ye, Thomas, you must agayn, Here you may no longer be : Hy then zerne that you were at hame, I sal ye bryng to Eldyn Tre. Thomas answered with heuy liaste And said, Lowely ladye, lat ma be, For I say ye certenly here Haf I be bot the space of dayes three. Sothly, Thomas, as I telle ye. You hath ben here three yeres. And here you may no longer be ; And I sal tele ye a skele, To-morrowe of helle ye foule feude Amang our folke shall chuse hn fee; For you art a larg mail and an hende Trowe you wele he will chuse thee. Fore all the golde that may be. Fro hens unto the world es ende, Sail you not be betrayed by me, And thairfor sail yon hens wende. She broght hym euyn to Eldyn Tre, " even Undir nethe the grene wode spray. In Huntle bankes was fayr to be, Ther breddes syng both nyzt and day. birds Ferre ouyr yon montayns gray. Fare wele, Thomas, I wende my way. JOHN BARBOUR. j0fjix §arlT0itr, Born 1320. Died 1395. John Barbour, Archdeacon of Aberdeen, was a Scotclininn, and contemporary Avith Chancer. H^ is chielly known for his f\nc nar- rative "Tlie Bruce," wliich isalustory of tiie memorable times in w iiich King Robert I. asserted the independence of Scotland. Bar- bour was born in 1320, and died in 1395, in liis seventy -fifth year. FREEDOM. A! FREDOME is a nobill thing! Fredonie mayse man to liaiff liking! makes Fredome all solace to man giffis : He levys at ese that frely Icvys! lives, ease A noble hart may haiff nane ese, Ka ellys nocht that may him plcse * nor, else Gyff fredome failytlie : for fre liking if Is yearnyt our all othir thing over. Na he, that ay hase levyt fre, May nocht knaw weill the propyrte, The angyr, na the wrechyt dome, doom That is cowplyt to foule thyrldome. Bot gyff he had assayit it, but Than all perquer he suld it wyt ; heartily, avoid And suld think fredome mar to pryse more Tlian all the gold in warld that is. DEATH OF SIR HENRY DE BOHUK (Frovi *' The Bruce.'') And when the king wist that they were In hale battle, comand sae near, His battle gart he weel array. He rade upon a little palfrey, Lawcht and joly array and His battle, with an ax in hand. And on his bassinet he bare An hat of tyre aboon ay where ; And, thereupon, into takin, Ane high crown, that he was king. And when Gloster and Hereford were "With tlieir battle approachand near, Before them all there came rid and. With helm on held and spear in hand, complete caused low tiara, above token riding head 8 GEMS FROM THE ENGLISH POETS. Sir Henry the Boon, the worthy, That was a wicht kniclit, and a hardy, And to the Earl of Hereford cousin ; Armed in arms gude and fine ; Came on a steed a bowshot near, Before all other that there were : And knew the king, for that he saw Him sae range his men on raw, And by the crown that was set Also upon his bassinet. And towards him he went in hy. And the king sac apertly Saw him come, forouthall his fears. In hy till him the horse he steers. A.nd when Sir Henry saw the king Come on, foroutin abasing. Till him he rode in great hy. He thought that he should weel lichtly Win him, and have him at his will. Sin' he him horsit saw sae ill. Sprent they samen intill a lyng; Sir Henry missed the noble king; And he that in his stirrups stude. With the ax, that was hard and gude. With sae great main, raucht him a dint, That nouther hat nor helm micht stint The heavy dush, that he him gave. That near the head till the harns clave. The hand-ax shaft frushit in tway; And he down to the yird gan gae All flatlings, for him failit micht. This was the first straik of the ficht. That was performit douchtily. And when the king's men sae stoutly Saw him, richt at the first meeting, Forouten doubt or abasing, Have slain a knicht sae at a straik. Sic hard'ment thereat gan they tak, That they come on richt hardily. When Englishmen saw them sae stoutly Come on, they had great abasing ; And specially for tliat the king Sae smartly that gude knicht has slain, That they withdrew them everilk ane, And durst not ane abide to ficht: Sae dreid they for the king's micht. strong haste plainly before, coniiianiona lias'e, to not put about very easily horsed sprang, together, Hne strength, reached neither, might dash brains shivered, two earth, began, go failed fight not put about stroke encouragemenJ depressK)D every dread JAMES I. OF SCOTLAND. 9 When that the king repairit was, returned That gart his men all leave the chase, caused The lordis of his company Elamed him, as they durst, greatumly, That he him put in aventure. To mo(!t sae stith a knicht and stour, stout, strong In sic })()int as he then was seen. such, state For they said weel, it rnicht have been Cause of their tynsal everilk ane. destruction The king answer has made them nane, But mainit his hand-ax shaft sae lamented Was with the straik broken in tway. two latms |. 0f Scollantr. \Z\VS. This accomplished prince of the house of Stuart was born in 1394. Scotland was at the time in a state of complete anarchy; and to save James from the hands of his uncle Albany, he was, while only eleven years of age, sent privately in a vessel to France. The vessel was seized by the Enghsh, and. to the disgrace of Henry IV. of England, the young prince was kept for eighteen years a prisoner in England ; Henry, however, ti*eated him well, and James became learned in all the accomplishments of the English Court. Chaucer he studied closely; and he soothed his confinement by writing poetry. His principal poems are "The King's Quhair " (book), and ''Christis Kirk on the Grene." James was released in 1423, and married Lady Jane. On his return to Scotland he set himself vigorously to repress the disorders there; but a conspiracy of the lawless nobility having been formed against him, he was assassi- nated at Perth in 1437. JAMES I., A PRISONER IN WINDSOR, SEES LADY JOAN BEAUFORT. Bewailing in my chamber, thus alone, Despaired of all joy and remedy, For-tired of my thought, and wo-begone, And to the window gan I walk in hy began, haste To see the world and folk that went forbye, As, for the time, though I of mirthis food Might have no more, to look it did me good. Now was there made, fast by the Towris wall, A garden fair ; and in the corners set Ane arbour green, with wandis long and small Railed about, and so with trees set Was all the place, and hawthorn hedges knet, That lyf was none walking there forbye, life, past That might within scarce any wight espy, 1* 10 GEMS FROM THE ENGLISH POETSL So thick the boughis and the leavis green Beshaded all the alleys that there were, And mids of every arbour might be seen The sharpe greene sweete juniper, Growing so fair with brandies here and there, That as it seemed to a lyf without, The boughis spread the arbour all about. And on the smalle greene twistis sat twigs The little sweete nightingale, and sung So loud and clear, the hymnis consecrat Of lovis use, now soft, now loud among, That all the gardens and tlie wallis rung Ilight of their song. Cast I down mine eyes again Wliere as I saw, walking under the Tower, Full secretly, new comen hear to jjlain, The fairest and the freshest young flower That ever I saw, methought, before that hour, For which sudden abate, anon astart, went and came The blood of all my body to my heart. And though I stood abasit tho a lite, little No wonder was; for why? my wittis all Were so o'ercome with pleasance and delight, Only through letting of my eyen fall, eyes That suddenly my heart became her thrall, For ever of free will — for of menace There was no token in her sweete face. And in my head I drew right hastily, And eftesoons I leant it out again, shortly And saw her walk that very womanly With no wight mo', but only women twain. Then gan I study in myself, and sayn: say 'Ah, sweet! are ye a worldly creature, Or heavenly thing in likeness of nature? ' ' Or areP ye god Cupidis own princess. And comin are to loose me out of band? Or are ye very Nature the goddess. That have depainted with your heavenly hand, This garden full of flowers as they stand? What shall I think, alas ! what reverence Shall I mister unto your excellence? JAMES I. OF SCOTLAND. 11 * If ye a goddess be, and that ye like To do me pain, I may it not astart : fly If ye be warldly wight, that doth me sike sigh Why list God make you so, my dearest heart, To do a seely prisoner this smart, wretched That loves you all, and wot of nought but wo? And therefore mercy, sweet! sin' it is so.' Of her array the form if I shall write. Towards her golden hair and rich attire, In fretwise couchit with j^earlis white inlaid And great balas learning as the fire, stones, glittering With mony ane emeraut and fair sapphire ; And on lier head a chaplet fresh of hue. Of plumis parted red, and white, and blue. Full of quaking spangis bright as gold, spangles Forged of shape like to tlie amorets, love-knots So new, so fresh, so pleasant to behold The plumis eke like to the llower jonets; lily And other of shape, like to the llower jonets; And above all this, there w^as, w^cll I wot. Beauty enough to make a world to dote. About her neck, white as the fire amail, enamel A goodly chain of small orf evory, gold work Whereby there liung a ruby, without fail, Like to ane heart sliapcn verily. That as a spark of lowe so wantonly flame Seemed burning upon lier white throat. Now if there was good party, God it wot. match And w^hen she walked had, a little thraw^ turn Under tlie sweete greene boughis bent, Her fair fresh face, as wiiite as any snaw, She turned has, and furtli her wayis went; But tho began mine aches and torment, To see her part and follow I na might; Methought the day was turned into night. CHRIST'S KIRK OF THE GREEN. Was never in Scotland heard nor seen Sic dancing nor deray, merriment Nouther at Falkland on the Green, Nor Peebliss at the Play, games 12 GEMS FROM THE ENGLISH POETS. As was of wooers, as I ween, At Christ's Kirk on ane day : There came our Kittys, washen c.ean, In their new kirtles of gray, Full gay. At Christ's Kirk of the Green that day. To dance thir damsellis them dight, flaunted Thir lasses light of laits, manners Their gloves were of the raffel right, deerskin Their shoon were of the Straits, shoes, morocco Their kirtles were of Lincoln light, Weel prest with many plaits, They were so nice when men them nicht, neared They squealit like ony gaits goats Sa loud At Christ's Kirk of the Green that day. Of all thir maidens mild as mead, Was nane so jimp as Gillie^ smart As ony rose her rood was red, complexion Her lyre was like the lily, bosom Fu' yellow, yellow was her head. But she of love was silly ; Though ail her kin had sworn her dead, death She would have but sweet Willie Alane, At Christ's Kirk of the Green that day. §Iintr Piirrij. About i45o. Of this Scottish minstrel poet little is known, but that he was blind from his earliest years, and that he gained his living by reciting and singing his compositions before company. '"The Adventures of Sir William Wallace," written about 1450. is still a great favounte with the Scottish peasantry, who regard it as the trumpet-note of liberty, a modernised Scotch version having been made some time ago by Hamilton of Gilbertfield. Tho poem is evidently founded on the traditions current at ihat time, a century and half after the times of Wallace. WALLACE FISHING IN IRVINE WATER. So on a time he desired to play In Aperil the three-and-twenty day. Till Irvine water fish to tak he went, Sic fantasy fell in his intent. BLIND HARRY. 13 To lead his net a child furth with him yede; went But he, or noon, was in a fellon dread. ere, fearful His swerd he left, so did he never again; It did him glide, suppose he suffered pain. Of that labour as than he was not slie, craft Happy he was, took fish abundantly. Or of the day ten hours o'er couth pass. could Ridand there came, near by where Wallace was, riding The Lord Percy, was captain than of Ayr; Frae then' he turned, and couth to Glasgow fare. Part of the court had Wallace' labour seen, Till him rade five, clad into ganand green, And said soon : ' Scot, Martin's fish we wald have 1' Wallace meekly again answer him gave : ' It were reason, methink, ye should have part, Waith should be dealt, in all place, with free heart.' He bade his child, ' Give them of our waithing.' sport The Southron said ; ' As now of thy dealing We will not tak ; thou wald give us o'er small.' He lighted down and frae the child took all. Wallace said then : ' Gentlemen gif ye be, if Leave us some part, we pray for charity. Ane aged knight serves our lady to-day: Gude friend, leave part, and tak not all away.' ' Thou shalt have leave to fish and tak thee mae, more All this forsooth shall in our flitting gae. gc We serve a lord; this fish shall till him gang.' g^ Wallace answered, said: ' Thou art in the wrang.' ' Wham thous thou, Scot? in faith thou 'serves a blaw. ' blow Till him he ran, and out a swerd gan draw. William was wae he had nae wappins there sorry But the poutstaff, the whilk in hand he bare, fishing-roc Wallace with it fast on the cheek him took. With sae gude will, while of his feet he shook. The swerd flew frae him a fur-breid on the land. Wallace was glad, and hint it soon in hand ; seized And with the swerd awkward he him gave Under the hat, his craig in sunder drave. neck By that the lave lighted about.Wallace, rest He had no help, only but God's grace. On either side full fast on him they dang. Great peril was gif they had lasted lang. it Upon the head in great ire he strak ane ; one The shearand swerd glade to the collar bane. Ane other on the arm he hit so hardily. While hand an^ swerd baith in the field gan lie. 14 GEMS FROM THE ENGLISH POETS. The tothcr twa fled to their horse again; He stickit him was last upon the plain. Three slew he there, twa. fled with all their might After their lord ; but he was out of sight, Takand the muir, or he and they couth twine. Till him they rade anon, or they wald blin, And cryit: 'Lord abide; your men are martyred down Right cruelly, here in this false region. Five of our court here at the water bade. Fish for to bring, though it nae profit made. We are scaped, but in field slain are three.' The lord speirit: ' How mony might they be?' ' We saw but ane that has discomfist us all.' Then leugh he loud, and said: 'Foul mot you fall ! Sin' ane you all has put to confusion. Wha nieins it maist the devil of hell him drown ! This day for me, in faith, he bees not souglit.' When Wallace thus this worthy wark had wrouglit. Their horse he took, and gear that left was there, Gave ower that craft, he yede to fish nae mair. |UtIjixr!tr Sljtnlc. About 1»;20 t.j 143'J. The author of this remarkable ballad is Richard Sheale, an En- Ush- man, but the date is unknown. This nioUerni^ed version wasj made about 1420 to 14G0. CHEVY-CHASE. God prosper long our noble king, Our lives and safeties all ; A woful hunting once there did In Chevy-Chase befall. • To drive the deer with hound and horn Earl Percy took his way ; The child may rue that is \mborn The hunting of that day. The stout Earl of Northumberland A vow to God did make. His pleasure in the Scottish woods Three summer days to take ; The chiefest harts in Chevy-Chasej To kill and bear away. mCHARJD SHEALE. 15 These tidings to Earl Douglas came, In Scotland where he lay : Who sent Earl Percy present word He would prevent his sport. The English Earl, not fearing that, Did to the woods resort With fifteen hundred bowmen bold. All chosen men of might, Who knew full well in time of need To aim their shafts aright. The gallant greyhounds swiftly ran To chase the fallow deer: On Monday they began to hunt, When daylight did appear; And long before high noon they had A hundred fat bucks slain ; Then having dined, the drovers went To rouse the deer again. The bowmen mustered on the hills, Well able to endure; And all their rear, with special care, That day was guarded sure. The hounds ran swiftly through the woods, The nimble deer to take ; That with their cries the hills and dales An echo shrill did make. Lord Percy to the quarry went, To view the slaughtered deer; Quoth he, * ' Earl Douglas promised This day to meet me here: But if I thought he would not come, No longer would I stay ;" With that a brave young gentleman Thus to the Earl did say : ** Lo, yonder doth Earl Douglas come, His men in armour bright ; Full twenty hundred Scottish spears All marching in our sight ; All men of pleasant Teviotdale, Fast by the river Tweed :" 16 GEMS FROM THE ENGLISH POETS. ** Then cease your sports," Earl Percy said, " And take j^our bows with speed: And now with me my countrymen, Your courage forth advance ; For never was there champion yet, In Scotland or in France, That ever did on horseback come, But if my hap it were, I durst encounter man for man. With him to break a spear." Earl Douglas on his milk-white steed, Most like a baron bold. Rode foremost of his company, Whose armour shone like gold. *' Show me," said he. "whose men you be That hunt so boldly here. That, without my consent, do chase And kill my fallow-deer." The first man that did answer make, ~ Was noble Percy he ; Who said, " We list not to declare, Nor show whose men we be : Yet will we spend our dearest blood, Thy chief est harts to slay." Then Douglas swore a solemn oath, And thus in rage did say — "Ere thus I will out-braved be, One of us two shall die : I know thee well, an earl thou art, Lord Percy, so am I. But trust me, Percy, pity it were. And great offence to kill Any of these our guiltless men, For they have done no ill. Let you and me the battle try. And set our men aside." "Accursed be he," Earl Percy said, "By whom this is denied." Then stepped a gallant squire forth, Witherington was his name, RICHARD SHE ALE. 17 Who said, "I would not have it told To Henry, our king, for shame, That e'er my captain fought on foot, And I stood looking on. You two be earls," said Witherington, " And I a squire alone: I'll do the best that do I may, While I have power to stand : While I have power to wield my sword, I'll fight with heart and hand." Our English archers bent their bows, Their hearts were good and true ; At the first flight of arrows sent, j. Full fourscore Scots they slew. Yet stays Earl Douglas on the bent, As chieftain stout and good ; As valiant captain, all unmoved, The shock he firmly stood. His host he- parted had in three. As leader ware and tried; And soon his spearmen on their foes Bore down on every side. Throughout the English archery They dealt full many a wound ; But still our valiant Englishmen All firmly kept their ground. And throwing straight their bows away, They grasped their swords so bright; And now sharp blows, a heavy shower On shields and helmets light. They closed full fast on every side, No slackness there was found ; And many a gallant gentleman Lay gasping on the ground. In truth ! it was a grief to see How each one chose his spear. And how the blood out of their breasts Did gush like water clear. At last these two stout earls did meet, Like captains of great might : =« GEMS FROM THIi ENGLISH POETSc Like lions wode, they laid on lode, And made a cruel fight : They fought until they both did sweat, With swords of tempered steel; Until the blood, like drops of rain. They trickling down did feel. *' Yield thee, Lord Percy," Douglas saio; ' ' In faith I will thee bring Where thou shalt high advanced be By James, our Scottish king : Thy ransom I will freely give, ^ And this report of thee, Thou art the most courageous knight That ever I did see." ''No, Douglas," saith Earl Percy then, "Thy proffer I do scorn; I will not yield to any Scot That ever yet was born." With that there came an arrow keen Out of an English bow. Which struck Earl Douglas to the heart, A deep and deadly blow ; Who never spake more words than these- "Fight on, my merry men all; For why my life is at an end ; Lord Percy sees my fall." Then leaving life. Earl Percy took The dead man by the hand ; And said, ' ' Earl Douglas, for thy life Would I had lost my land. In truth ! my very heart doth bleed With sorrow for thy sake; For sure a more redoubted knight Mischance did never take." A knight amongst the Scots there was, Who saw Earl Douglas die. Who straight in wrath did vow revenge Upon the Earl Percy : Sir Hugh Montgomery was he called. Who, with a spear full bright. SIR PATRICK SPENS. 19 WeJl mounted on a gallant steed, Ran fiercely through the fight ; And past the English archers all, Without a dread or fear ; And througli Earl Percy's body then He thrust his hateful spear; "With such vehement force and might He did his body gore, The staff ran through the other side A large cloth yard and more. And the Lord Maxwell in like case Did with Earl Douglas die : Of twenty hundred Scottish spears, Scarce fifty-five did fly. Of fifteen hundred Englishmen, Went home but fifty-three ; The rest in Chevy-Chase were slain, Under the greenwood tree. Sir ^atrkK Sptts. Thk following? Ballad probably refers to the fate of the Scottish nobles on their return from Norway after havinj?, in 1281, conveyed Margaret, daughter of Alexander III.., to her nuptials with King Eric of Norway. It is supposed to have been written in the fifteenth century, author unknown . THE BALLAD OF SIR PATRICK SPENS. The King sits in Dunfermline toun, • Drinking the blude-red wine ; *' O whaur shall I get a skeely skipper. To sail this ship of mine?" Then up and spake an eldern knight. Sat at the King's right knee ; *' Sir Patrick Spens is the best sailor That ever sailed the sea." The King has written a braid letter, And seal'd it with his hand, And sent it to Sir Patrick Spens '^SiS walking on the sand. 20 GEMS FROM THjw ENGLISH POETS. **To Noroway, to Noroway, To Noroway o'er the faem ; The King's daughter to Noroway, It's thou maun tak' her hame." The first line that Sir Patrick read, A loud laugh laughed he, The next line that Sir Patrick read, The tear came to his e'e. **0 wha is this has done this deed, This ill deed done to me, To send us out at this time o' the year To sail upon the sea?" They hoisted their sails on a Monday morn, Wi' a' the haste they may ; And they hae landed in Noroway Upon the Wodensday. *'Make haste, make haste, my merry men all. Our ship shall sail the morn," "Now ever, alack, my master dear, I fear a deadly storm. I saw the new moon late yestreen, Wi' the auld moon in her arm ; And I fear, I fear, my master dear. That we shall come to harm!" They hadna sailed a league, a league, A league, but barely three. When the lift grew dark, and the wind blew loud And gurly grew the sea. The ropes they brak, and the top-masts lap. It was sic a deadly storm ; And the waves came o'er the broken ship. Till a' her sides were torn. O laith, laith were our guid Scots lords To weet their leathern shoon. But lan^ ere a' the play was o'er, They wat their heads abune. O lang, lang may the ladies sit, Wi' their fans into their hand, Or e'er they see Sir Patrick Spens Come sailing to the laud, WILLIAM DUNBAR. 21 O lang, lang may their ladies sit, Wi' their gowd kaims in their hair, A' waiting for their ain dear lords, For them they'll sec nae mair. Half owre, half owre to Aberdour, It's fifty fathom deep, And there lies gude Sir Patrick Spens, Wi' the Scots lords at his feet. illiam gunbar. |Sa"Siti525. Dttnbar, one of the greatest of the elder Scottish poets, was educated in St. Andrews, where he took his degree. He became a f tiar of the Franciscan order, and being a favourite with James IV.. lie was e.'uployed on various important missions. He was one of ihos'i sent to London to bring to Scotland the Princess Margaret, daughter of Henry VH., the bride of the Scottish king, and ho wrote on th'! marriasre the beautiful poem, '"The Thrissil and the Rose." His p 'oms embrace a wide range of subjects— descriptive, allegor- ic d, satirical, comic, and moral. Ho is supposed to have died at th-wige of sixty. ASSEMBLAGE OF THE BEASTS AND FLOWERS. From the ^^Thrissil and the Bose.''^ With that this lady soberly did smile. And said : Uprise, and do thy observance ; Thou did promit, in Mayis lusty while, For to describe the Rose of most pleasance. Go see the birdis how they sing and dance, Illumined our with orient skyis bright, Enamelled richly with new azure light. Dame Nature ordered every bird and beast Before her Highness sould anon compear, And every flower of virtue, most and least, And every herb by field, or far or near, As they had wont in May, from year to year. To her their Maker to make obedience. Full low inclining with due reverence. All present were in twinkling of an ee, eye Baith beast, and bird, and flower, before the queen; And first the lion, greatest of degree. Was called there, and he most fair to sene, With a full hardy countenance and keen. Before dame Nature came, and did incline, "With visage bold, and courage leonine, 22 GEMS FROM THE ENGLISH POETS. This lady liftit up his clawis clear, And let him lightly lean upon her knee, And crownit him with diadem full dear. Of radiant stones most royal for to see ; Saying, The king of beastis mak I thee, And the chief protector in woods and shaws ; Unto thy lieges go forth and keep the laws. Then called she all the flowers that grew in field. Discerning all their fashions and effeirs; q .alirkis Upon the awful Thrissil she beheld, tliioiit- And saw him kepit with a bush of spears ; guarded Considering him so able for the weirs, uais A radiant crown of rubies she him gave. And said, In field go forth and find the lave ; rest Nor hold none other flower in sic denty, such regard As the fresh Rose, of colour red and white: For if thou do, hurt is thine honesty; Considering that no flower is so perfyt. So full of virtue, pleasure, and delight, So full of blissful angelic beautie. Imperial birth, honour, and dignity. Then to the Rose she turned her visage, And said, O lusty daughter most benign Above the lily's illustrious lineage, From the stock royal rising fresh and ying, yoimi? Without one spot or blemish doing spring: Come, bloom of joy with genius to be crowned, For o'er the lave thy beauty is renowned. r.-st Then all the birdis sang with voice on hicht, iii^;:h Whose mirthful sound was marvellous to heai ; The mavis sang : Hail Rose, most rich and right, That does upflourish under Phoebus' spear; Hail plant of youth, hail prince's daughter dear, Hail blossom breaking out of the blood-royal, Whose precious virtue is imperial. The merle she sang : Hail Rose of most delight, Hail of all flowers queen and sovereign : The lark she sang : Hail Rose, both red and white, Most pleasant flower of mighty colours vain : The nightingale sang : Hail Nature's suffragan, In beauty, nurture, and every nobleness, In rich array, renown, and gentleness. GAVm DOUGLAS. 23 The common voice uprose of birdis small, Upon this ways, O blessed be the hour That thou wast chosen to be our principal : Welcome to be our princess of honour, Our pearl, our pleasure, and our lover. Our peace, our play, our plain felicity — ' Christ thee conserve from all adversitie ! 6aS)m gouglas. ^D?edl5ll; A YOUNGER son of the Earl of Angus, he was educated for the church, and rose to be Bishop of Dunkeld. He wrote a long poem, -The Palace of Honour," and made a translation of Virgil's ^neid into Scottish verse. MORNING IN MAY. As fresh Aurore, to mighty Tithon spouse, Ished of her saffron bed and ivor house, issued In cram'sy clad and grained violate crimson With sanguine cape, and selvage purpurate, Unshet the windows of her large hall, opened Spread all with roses, and full of balm royal And eke the heavenly portis chrystalline Unwarps braid, the warld till illumine ; The twinkling streamers of the orient Shed purpour spraings, with gold and azure ment Eous, the steed, with ruby harness red. Above the seas liftis furtli his head. Of colour sore, and somedeal brown as berry, yellow For to alichten and glad our emispery; hemisphere The flame out-bursten at the neisthirls, _ nostrilf So fast Phaeton with the whip him whirls. While shortly, with the bleezand torch of day, Abulyit in his lemand fresh array, appareUed, glittering Furth of his palace royal ishit Phcebus, With golden crown and visage glorious. Crisp hairs, bricht as chrysolite or topaz ; For whase hue micht nane behald his face. might The auriate vanes of his throne soverane golden veins With glitterand glance o'erspread the oceane ; The large fludes, lemand all of licht, But with ane blink of his supernal sicht. For to behald, it was ane glore to see The stabled windis and the calmed sea. The soft season, the firmament serene. The loune illuminate air and firth amene. tranquil, pleasant 24 GEMS FROM THE ENGLISH POET^. And lusty Flora did her bloomis spread Under the feet of Phoebus' sulyart steed ; The swarded soil embrode with selcouth hues, Wood and forest, obnumbrate with bews. Towers, turrets, kirnals, and pinnacles hie, Of kirks, castles, and ilk fair citie, Stude painted, every fane, phiol, and stage, Upon the plain ground by their awn umbrage Of Eolus' north blasts havand no dreid. The soil spread her braid bosom on-breid ; The corn crops and the beir new-braird With gladsome garment revesting the yerd. sultry uncommon boughs battlements each cupola barley earth Sir gafaiir yinirsau. Born 1490. Died 1557. "The Lyon King-at-arms," Sir David Lindsay of the Mount was born in Fife about the year 1490. On leaving the university he became a great favourite of James V., who knighted him. He pos- sessed great poetical talents, especially for satire. The evils of his time, both pohtical and ecclesiastical, are handled with an unspar- ing hand; and his writings are believed to have had a powerful ef- fect in promoting the Scottish Reformation. He died at his seat, the Mount, in, the sixty-seventh year of his age. IN CONTEMPTION OF SIDE TAILS. SovEKEiGN, I mean of thir side tails, complain Whilk through the dust and dubs trails, Three quarters lang behind their heels, Express again' all commonweals. Though bishops, in their pontificals, Have men for to bear up their tails, For dignity of their office; Richt so ane queen or ane emprice ; Ilowbeit they use sic gravity, Conformand to their majesty. Though their robe-royals be upborne, I think it is ane very scorn. That every lady of the land Should have her tail so side trailand : Howbeit they been of high estate, The queen they should not counterfeit. Wherever they go it may be seen ; How kirk and causay they soop clean. The images into the kirk May think of their side tails irk ; causeway annoyed SIR DAVID LINDSAY. 25 For when the weather been maist fair, The dust flies highest into the air, And all their faces does begary, begrime Gif they could speak, they wviAd them wary. curse But I have maist into despite Poor claggocks clad in Raploch white, draggle-tails Whilk has scant twa merks for their fees, scarce Will have twa ells beneath their knees. Kittock, that clcckit was yestreen, bom The morn, will counterfeit the qneen. to-morrow In baron nor byre she vvill not bide, bam Without her kirtle tail be side. In summer, when the streets dries, They raise the dust aboon the skies; Nane may gae near them at their ease. Without they cover mouth and neese. nose I think maist pane after ain rain, To see them tuckit up again: Then when they step furth through the street, Their fauldings flaps about their feet; Of tails I will no more indite. For dread some duddron me despite : slut Notwithstanding, I will conclude, That of side tails can come nae gudc, Sider nor may their ankles hide, The remanent proceeds of pride, And pride proceeds of the devil, Thus alway they proceed of evil. Ane other fault, sir, may be seen — They hide their face all bot the een ; When gentlemen bid them gude-day, Without reverence they slide away. Without their faults be soon amended, My flyting, sir, shall never be ended ; But wald your grace my counsel tak, Ane proclamation ye sliould mak, Baith through the land and burrowstouns, towns To shaw their face and cut their gowns. Women will say, this is nae bourds, jest To write sic vile and filthy words; But wald they clenge their filthy tails, clean Whilk over the mires and middings trails, Then should my writing clengit be, None other mends they get of me. 26 GEMS FROM THE ENGLISH POETS. SATIRE ON THE THREE ESTATES. My potent pardons ye may see, Come frae the Cham of Tartary, Weel sealed with oyster-shells; Though ye have no discretion, Ye shall have full remission, With help of books and bells. Here is a relic lang and braid Of Fin-mac-Coul the right chaf t blade, jaw With teeth and all togidder; together Of Colin's cow here is a horn, For eating of Makammel's corn Was slain inro Balquhidder. Here is the cord, baith great and lang, Whilk hanged Johnnie Armstrang, Of gude hemp saf t and sound ; Gude haly people, I stand for't, holy Whae'er be hanged in this cord. Needs never to be drowned ! The culum of St. Bride's cow. The gruntle of St. Antone's sow, Whilk bore his haly bell ; Whaever hears this bell clink Give me a ducat to the drink. He shall never gang till hell — Without he be with Belial born : Masters, trow ye that this be scorn? Come, win this pardon, come ! Wha loves their wives not with their heart, I have power them to depart : Methink you deaf and dumb. Has none of you cursed wicked wives. That halds you into sturt and strifes? trouble Come take my dispensation ; Of that cummer I shall make you quit, gossip Howbeit yourself be in the wyte, blame And make ane false narration. Come win the pardon ! Now let see For meal, for malt, or for money — For cock, hen, goose, or grise. Of relics here I have a hunder. Why come ye not? This is a wonder*^ I trow yc be not wise, SIR THOMAS WYATT. 2* Sir S;ijomas Wgatt. ^g?3"S: A DISTINGUISHED courtier in the reign of Henry VIII., he was secretly attached to Anne Boleyn, whom he has commemorated in his verse. He was fortunate in escaping the suspicion and tyranny of Ileniy, and died while on a mission for him in France. His poet- jieal pieces were few. THE LOVER'S LUTE. Blame not my Lute ! for he must sound Of this or that as liketh me ; For lack of wit the Lute is bound ' To give such tunes as pleaseth me; ' Though my songs be somewhat strange, And speak such words as touch my change, Blame not my Lute! ' My Lute, alas! doth not offend, Though that per force lie must agree To sound such tunes as, I intend To sing to them that heareth me; Then though my songs be somewhat plain, And toucheth some that use to feign, Blame not my Lute ! My Lute and strings may not deny, But as I strike they must obey ; Break not them so wrongfully, But wreak thyself some other way ; And though the songs which I indite Do quit thy change with rightful spite, Blame not my Lute ! Spite asketh sjiite, and changing change. And falsed faith must needs be known ; The faults so great, tlie case so strange ; Of right it must abroad be blown : Then since that by thine own desert My songs do tell how true thou art. Blame not my Lute ! Blame but thyself tliat hast misdone, And well deserved to have blame; Change thou thy way, so evil begone. And then my Lute shall sound that same ; But if till then my fingers play, , By thy desert their wonted way, Blame not my Lute/ 28 GEMS FROM TttE ENGLISH POETS. Farewell! unknown-, for though thou break My strings in spite with great disdain, Yet have I found out for tliy sake, Strings for to string my Lute again : And if perchance this silly rhyme Do make thee blush at any time, Blame not my Lute ! icnrg piofoartr, €uxl oi Swrnn. Bon. inir Lied i54(5i Th'^s accomplished nobleman was the eldest son cf the Duke of Nor- f.;jk; he was born about the year 1517, but much obscurity rests on hip early life. Surrey bore a distinguislied part in the wars with Scotland and France. He was committed to the Tower by the arbitrary Henry VIII., and on a mock charge of quartering the royal arms of Edward the Confessor on his escutcheon, he was beheaded on 21st January, 1.54(5. His works consist of songs and son- nets, which are remarkable for correctness of style and purity of expression. He has the distinction of being the first to introduce blank verse into our poetry. PRISONER m WINDSOR. So cruel prison how could betide, alas ! As proud Windsor? where I, in lust and joy, With a kii)g's son, my childish years did pass, In greater feast than Priam's son of Troy : Where each sweet place returns a taste full sour! The large green courts where we were wont to hove, With eyes cast up into the Maiden tower. And easy sighs, such as folk draw in love. The stately seats, the ladies bright of hue ; The dances short, long tales of great delight, With words and looks that tigers could but rue, Where each of us did plead the other's right. The palm-play, where, despoiled for the game, With dazed eyes oft we, by gleams of love, Have missed the ball and got sight of our dame. To bait her eyes, which kept the leads above. The gravel ground, with sleeves tied on the helm ^ Of foaming horse, with swords and friendly hearts ; With cheer, as though one should another whelm, Where we have fought, and chased oft with darts; HENRY HOWARD. 2a With silver drops the mead yet spread for ruth, In active games of nimbleness and strength, Where we did strain, trained with swarms of youth, Our tender limbs that yet shot up in length : The secret groves which oft we made resound. Of pleasant plaint and of our ladies' praise, Recording oft what grace each one had found, What hope of speed, what dread of long delays: Tlie wild forest, the clothed holts with green. With reins availed and swift ybreathed horse ; With cry of hounds and merry blasts between, Where we did chase the fearful hart of force. The wide vales, eke, that harboured us each night. Wherewith, alas, reviveth in my breast. The sweet accord such sleeps as yet delight. The pleasant dreams, the quiet bed of rest: The secret thoughts imparted with such trust, The wanton talk, the divers change of play. The friendship sworn, each promise kept so just; Wherewith we passed the winter night away. And with this thought, the blood forsakes the face, The tears berain my cheeks of deadly hue, The which, as soon as sobbing sighs, alas, Upsupped have, thus I my plaint renew : O place of bliss! renewer of my woes, Give me accounts, where is my noble fere ; Whom in thy walls thou dost each night enclose ; To other leef , but unto me most dear : Echo, alas ! that doth my sorrow rue. Returns thereto a hollow sound of plaint. Thus I alone, where all my freedom grew. In prison pine with bondage and restraint, And with remembrance of the greater grief To banish the less, I find my chief relief. 30 GEMS FROM THE ENGLISH POETS. i,nm |.s(ufot. {iS™t.M6. One of the victims of the persecuting Henry VIII , she was burnt to death at Smithfield in 1546. The following was made and sung by her while a prisoner in Newgate. Appointed to the fielde, With this world wil I light, And faith shall be my shilde. Faith is that weapon stronge, Which wil not faile at nede ; My foes therefore amonge, Therewith wil I procede. As it is had in strengthe, And forces of Christes waye, It wil prevaile at lengthe, Though all the Devils saye naye. Faithe of the fathers olde Obtained right witness, Which makes me very bolde To fear no worldes distress. I now rejoice in harte, And hope bides me do so; For Christ will take my part, And ease me of my wo. Thou sayst, Lord, whoso knocke, To them wilt Thou attende ; Undo, therefore, the locke. And thy stronge power sende. More enemies now I have Than heeres upon my head ; Let them not me deprave, But fight Thou in my steade. On Thee my care I cast, For all their cruell spight ; I set not by their hast, For Thou art my delight. I am not she that list My anker to let fall For every drislinge mist; My shippe's substancial. RICHARD EDWARDS. • 31 Not oft I use to wright In prose, nor yet in ryme ; Yet wil I shewe one sight, That I sawe in my time. , I sawe a royall throne. Where Justice shulde have sitte ; But in her steacle was One Of moody cruell witte. Absorpt was rightwisness. As by the raginge floude ; Sathan, in his excess Sucte up the guiltlesse bloude. • Then thought I, — Jesus, Lorde, When Thou shalt judge us all, llarde is it to rccorde On these men what'will fall. Yet, Lorde, I Thee desire. For that they doe to me. Let them not taste the hire Of their iniquitie. glidjiirtr (JBbtoarbs. issatoisee. Master of the singling boys of the Chapel Royal, he published some Kieces under the title of " Amaritium Irae," of which the following as been much admired. RENEWING OF LOVE. In going to my naked bed, as one that would have slept, I heard a wife sing to her child, that long before had wept. She sighed sore, and sang full sweet, to bring the babe to rest. That would not cease, but cried still, in sucking at her breast. She was full weary of her watch, and grieved with her child; She rocked it, and rated it, until on her it smiled; Then did she say: " Now liave I found the proverb true to prove. The falling out of faithful friends renewing is of love." Then took I paper, pen, and ink, this proverb for to write, In register for to remain of such v^ worthy wight. 32 GEMS FROM THE ENGLISH POETS. As she proceeded thus in song unto her little brat, Much matter uttered she of weight in place whereas she sat; And proved plain, there was no beast, nor creature bear- ing life, Could well be known to live in love without discord and strife : Then kissed she her little babe, and sware by God above, "The falling out of faithful friends reijewingis of love." " I marvel much, pardve," quoth she, " for to behold the rout. To see man, woman, boy, and beast, to toss the world about. Some kneel, some crouch, some beck, some check, and some can smoothly smile. And some embrace others in arms, and there think many a wile. Some stand aloof at cap and knee, some humble, and some stout, Yet are they never friends indeed until they once fall out." Thus ended she her song, and said, before she did remove : "The falling out of faithful friends renewing is of love." Sir mdhx giikrg^. {i°!;iS. This unfortunate. tbouf?h distinguished statesman, warrior, scholar, and poet, was born in I'l'rZ in Devonshire. Afterserving in the army in various parts of the world with distinction, he [)rosecuted the dis- coveries in America, and settled a colony in that country, which he named Virginia. On his return to Europe he was knighted by Queen Elizabeth. During the Spanish invasion he acted a most prominent part, and seemed as if he were fast advancing to the summit of greatness, when by an intrigue at court he was dismissed in dis- grace. He again rose to a high command, but again by base cal- umny he was charged with treason, and sent to the Tower, where he remained for twelve years. At last he was released, but without a pardon having been granted. His first act w.as to endeavour to plant a colony in Guiana, and obtained a i)atent under tlie great seal; but failing in his attempts on the Spanish settleuients there, his crHws became dispirited, and they returned home. To the eter- nal disgrace of James, he was sentenced on the old conviction to >>e beheaded, which was carried out on 2'.»th October, lfi18, at Palace Yard. Some of Ralegh's poems have been lost, and little is known respecting those that have come down to us. THE LIE. Go, soul, the body's guest. Upon a thankless errand ; SIR WALTER RALEIGH. 33 Fear not to touch the best, The truth shall be tliy warrant-, Go, since I needs must die, And give the world the lie. Go, tell the court it glows, And shines like rotten wood ; Go, tell the church it shows What's good, and doth no good: If church and court reply. Then give them both the lie. Tell potentates they live Acting by others' action, Not loved unless they give, Not strong but by a faction. If potentates reply, Give potentates the lie. Tell men of high condition That rule affairs of state, Their purpose is ambition. Their practice only hate: And if they once reply. Then give them all the lie. Tell them that brave it most. They beg for more by spending, Who in their greatest cost. Seek nothing but commending. And if they make reply. Then give them all the lie. Tell zeal it lacks devotion, Tell love it is but lust, Tell time it is but motion, Tell flesh it is but dust; And wish them not reply. For thou must give the lie. Tell age it daily wasteth. Tell honour how it alters, Tell beauty how she blasteth, Tell favour how it falters. And as they shall reply, Give every one the lie. * Tell wit how much it wrangles In tickle points of niceness; 2* 34 GEMS FROM THE ENGLISH POETSc Tell wisdom she entangles Herself in over-wiseness. And when they do reply, Straight give them both the lie. Tell physic of her boldness, Tell skill it is pretension, Tell charity of coldness, Tell law it is contention. And as they do reply. So give them still the lie. Tell fortune of her blindness, Tell nature of decay, Tell friendship of unkindness, Tell justice of delay. And if they will reply, Then give them all the lie. Tell arts they have no soundness, But vary by esteeming, Tell schools they want profoundness, And stand too much on seeming. If arts and schools reply. Give arts and schools tlic lie. Tell faith it fled the city. Tell how the country erreth. Tell, manhood shakes off pity, Tell, virtue least preferreth. And if they do reply, Spare not to give the lie. So when thou hast, as I Commanded thee, done blabbing; Although to give the lie Deserves no less than stabbing ; Yet stab at thee who will, No stab the soul can kill. THE PILGRIMAGE. Gi\j,p me my scallop-shell of quipt, My staff of faith to walk upon ; My scrip of joy, immortal diet; My bottle of salvation ; SIR WALTER RALEIGH. My gown of glory, hope's true gauge, And thus I'll take my pilgrimage ! Blood must be my body's 'balmer, No other balm will there be given; Whilst my soul, like quiet palmer, Travelleth towards the land of Heaven; Over the silver mountains Where spring the nectar fountains. There will I kiss the bowl of bliss, And drink mine everlasting fill Upon every milken hill. My soul will be a-dry before, But after, it will thirst no more. Then by that happy blissful day, More peaceful pilgrims I shall see, That have cast off tlieir rags of clay, And walk apparelled fresh like me. I'll take tliem first to quench their thirst, And taste of nectar's suckets At those clear wells where sweetness dwells Drawn up by saints in crystal buckets. And when our bottles and all we Are filled with immortality. Then the blest paths we'll travel, Strewed with rubies thick as gravel — Ceilings of diamonds, sapphire floors. High walls of coral, and pearly bowers. From thence to Heaven's bribeless hall, Where no corrupted voices brawl ; No conscience molten into gold, No forged accuser, bought or sold. No cause deferred, no vain-spent journey, For there Christ is the King's Attorney, Who pleads for all without degrees, And he hath angels, but no fees ; And when the grand twelve million jury Of our sins, with direful fury, 'Gainst our souls black verdicts give, Christ pleads his death, and then we live. Be thou my speaker, taintless pleader, TJnblotted lawyer, true proceeder ! Thou giv'st salvation even for alms — Not with a bribed lawyer's palms. And this is mine eternal plea To Him that made heaven, earth, and sea, That since my flesh must die so soon, 36 GEMS FROM THE ENGLISH POETS. And want a head to dine next noon, Just at the stroke when my veins start and spread* Set on my soul an everlasting head : Then am I, like a palmer, fit To tread those blest paths which before I writ. Of death and judgment, heaven and hell. Who oft doth think, must needs die well. ^tmiunit Spcnsfr. {ZSS Spenser was one of the great men who, from age to age. mniic out the general course of poetry, and who take a place among the few selected from the illustrious of every age, whom we look up to as the instructors of all time. He claimed to be descended from a noble family, though the chief evidence of the truth of the assertion is, that he took his place in (^ueen Elizabeth's court as agentleman of birth. He was born in East Smithfield about the year 1553, in humble cir- cumstances. In his sixteenth year he was entered as a sizar at Cambridge, where he continued seven years, and where he took the degree of A.M. After leaving Cambridge he obtained an introduc- tion to Sir Philip Sidney, to whom he dedicated his first poem. '• The Shepherd's Calendar," published in 1579. In 1580 he was appointed Secretary to the Viceroy of Ireland; and six years afterwards he obtained a grant of forfeited land in the coimty of Cork, where he fixed his residence in the Old Castle of Kilcolman. Here he brought home his wife, the "Elizabeth" of his sonnets; and here he wi-ote the greater part of his immortal poem, the Faery Queen. The first part was published in 1589, and met with an enthusiastic reception. Queen Elizabeth at once settled a pension of £50 a year on tiie jjoet. In 1596 the second part of the Faery Queen issued from the press. It was Intended to have been continued, but was never completed. ^ But fortune, which had so long befriended him. now changed; the Tyrone rebellion broke out in 1598, his house was burned, and his ' infant child perished in the flames. He had to flee with his wife to Englandinthe greatest destitution, and, dejected andheait-broken, he died in the following year, in the forty fifth year of his age, in a small lodging in London. His remains Avere laid beside those of Chaucer in Poet's Corner. " The term Faery is used by Spenser to denote something existing in the regions of fancy, and the Faery Queen is the impersonation of glory; the knights of Faery land are the twelve virtues, who are the champions Qf the queen. ' UNA AND THE RED-CROSS KNIGHT. A GENTLE knight was pricking on the plaine, Ycladd in mightie armes and silver shielde, Wherein old dints of deepe woundes did remaine, The cruel markes of many a bloody fielde ; Yet armes till that time did lie never wield: His angry steede did chide his foming bitt, As much disdayning to the curbe to yield : Full jolly knight he seemed, and faire did sit, As one for knightly giusts and fierce encounters fitt. EDMUND SPENSER. 3? And on liis l)rest a bloodie crosse he bore, The deare remembrance of his dying Lord, For whose sweete sake that glorious badge he wore, And dead, as living ever, him adored : Upon his shield the like was als.o scored, For soveraine hope, which in his helj)e he had. Right f aithf ull, true he was in deede and word ; But of his cheere did seeme too solemne sad ; Yet nothing did he dread, but ever was ydrad. dreaded Upon a great adventure he was bond, That greatest Gloriana to him gave (That greatest, glorious Queene of Faery-lond), To winne him worshippe, and her grace to have, Which of all earthly things he most did crave : And ever, as he rode, his hart did earne yearn To prove his puissance in battell brave Upon his foe, and his new fbrce to Icarne Upon his foe, a dragon horrible and stearne. A lovely ladie rode him faire beside. Upon a lowly asse more white then snow ; Yet she much whiter ; but the same did hide Under a vele, that wimpled was full low ; folded And over all a blacke stole shee did throw, robe As one that inly mournd ; so was she sad, And heavie sate upon her palfrey slow ; Seemed in heart some hidden care she had ; And by her in a line a milke-white lambe she lad. So pure and innocent, as that same lambe, She was in life and every vertuous lore ; And by descent from royall lynage came Of ancient kinges and queenes, that had of yore Their scepters stretcht from east to westerne shore, And all the world in their subjection held ; Till that infernal feend, with foule uprore, Forwasted all their land, and them expeld ; Whom to avenge, she had this knight from far compeld. Behind her farre away a dwarfe did lag. That lasie seemd, in being ever last, Or wearied with bearing of her bag Of needments at his backe. Thus as they past. The day with cloudes was suddeine overcast, And angry love an hideous storme of raine Did poure into his lemans lap so fast, sweetheart 38 GEMS FROM THE JENGLISH POETS. That everie wight to shroud it did constrain ; And this faii-e couple eke to shroud themselves were fain, Enforst to seeke some covert nigh at hand, A shadie grove not* farr away they spide, That promist ayde the tempest to withstand ; Whose loftie trees, yclad with sommers pride, Did spred so broad, that heavens light did hide, Not perceable with power of any starr; And all within were pathes and alleles wide. With footing worne, and leading inward farr : Faire harbour that them seems ; so in they entred ar. And foorth they passe, with pleasure forward led, Joying to heare the birdes sweete harmony, AVJiich therein shrouded from the tempest dred. Seemed in their song to scorne tlie cruell sky. Much can they praise the trees so straight and hy. The sayling Pine, the Cedar proud and tall. The vine-propp Elme, the Poplar never dry. The builder Oake, sole king of forrests all. The Aspine good for staves, the CyjDresse f unerall ; The Laurell, meed of mightie conquerours, And poets sage ; the Firre that weepeth still ; The Willow, worne of f orlorne paramours, forsaken lovers The Eugh, obedient to the benders will, yew The Birch for shafts, the Sallow for the mill. The Mirrhe swcete-bleeding in the bitter wound. The warlike Beech, the Ash for nothing ill. The fruitful Olive, and the Platane round, piano The carver Holme, the Maple seldom inward sound. oUc Led with delight, they thus beguile the way, Untill the blustering storme is overblowne; When, weening to returne, whence they did stray, thinking They cannot find that path, which first was showne, But wander too and fro in waies unknowne. Furthest from end then, when they neerest weenc, ( That makes them doubt tlieir wits be not their own; So many pathes, so many turnings scene. That which of them to take in diverse doubt they been. EDMUND SPENSER. 39 UNA AND THE LION. One day, nigh wearie of the yrksome way, From her unhastie beast she did alight ; And on the grasse her dainty limbs did lay In secrete shadow, far from all men's sight; From her fayre head her fillet she undiglit, And layd her stole aside : her angel's face, As the great eye of heaven, shyned bright. And made a sunshine in the shady place : Did never mortal eye behold such heavenly grace. It fortuned, out of the thickest wood A ramping lyon rushed suddeinly, Hunting full greedy after salvage blood ; Soone as the royall virgin he did spy, AVith gaping mouth at her ran greedily, To have attonce devourd her tender corse : But to the pray when as he drew more ny, His bloody rage aswaged, with remorse, And, with the sight amazed, forgat his furiour, forse. Instead thereof he kist her weary feet, And lick't her lily hands with fawning ton^'; As he her wronged innocence did weet. O how can beautie maister the most strong. And simple truth subdue avenging wrong ! Whose yielded pride and proud submission, Still dreading death, when she had marked long, Her heart gan melt in great compassion ; And drizling teares did shed for pure affection. "The lyon, lord of everie beast in field," Quoth she, ' ' his princely puissance doth abate. And mightie proud to humble weake docs yield, Forgetfull of the hungry rage, which late Him prickt, in pittie of my sad estate : — But he, my lyon, and my noble lord, ■How does he feid in cruell hart to hate Her, that him loved, and ever most adord As the god of my life? why hath he me abhord?'' Redounding tears did choke th' end of her plaint. Which softly ecchocd from the neighbour wood ; And, sad to see her sorrowful constraint. The kingly beast upon her gazing stood ; 40 GEMS FROM THE ENGLISH POETS. With pittie calmd, downe fell his angrj^ mood. Al last, in close hart shutting up her payne, Arose the virgin borne of heavenly brood, And to her snowy palfrey got agayne, To seeke her strayed champion if she might attayne. The lyon would not leave her desolate, ,( But with her went along, as a strong gard Of her chast person, and a faythf ull mate Of her sad troubles and misfortunes hard : Still, when she slept, he kept both watch and ward And when she wakt, he wayted diligent. With humble service to her will prepard; From her fayre eyes he took commandement, And ever by her lookes conceived her intent. THE MINISTRY OF ANGELS. And is there care in heaven? And is there love In heavenly spirits to these creatures base, That may compassion of their evils move? There is : — else much more wretched were the case Of men then beasts : but O the exceeding grace Of Highest God ! that loves his creatures so. And all his Avorkes with mercy doth embrace. That blessed angels he sends to and fro. To serve to wicked man, to serve his wicked foe ! How oft do they their silver bonders leave. To come to succour us that succour want ! How oft do they with goldou pinions cleave The flitting skyes, like flying pursuivant, clouds Against f owle feendes to ayd us militant ! n^htinj They for us fight, they watch, and dewly ward duly And their bright squadrons round about us plant; And all for love, and nothing for reward; O why should hevenly God to men have such regard ! THE BOWER OF BLISS. There the most daintic paradise on ground Itselfe doth offer to his sober eye, In which all pleasures plenteously abownd. And none docs others happinesse envye ; EDMUND SPENSER. 41 The painted flowers ; the trees upshooting hye ; The dales for shade; thehilles for breathing space*, The trembling groves ; the christall running by ; And, that which all faire works doth most aggrace, The art, which all that wrought, appeared in no place. One would have thought (so cunningly tlie rude And scornpd parts were mingled with the fine,) That Nature had for wantonesse ensude followed Art, and that Art at Nature did repine ; So striving each the other to undermine, Each did the others worke more beautify So differing both in wills, agreed in fine: So all agreed, through sweete diversity, This gardin to adorne with all variety. And in tlie midst of all a fountaine stood, Of richest substance that on earth might bee, So pure and shiny, that the silver flood Through every channell running one might see; Most goodly it with curious ymageree Was overwrought, and shapes of naked boys, Of which some seemed with lively ioUitee To fly about, playing their wanton toyes, Whylest others did themselves embay in liquid ioyes. bathe And over all, of purest gold, was spred A trayle of yvie in his native hew; For the rich metall was so coloured, That wight, who did not well avised it vew, "Would surely deeme it to bee yvie trew : Low his lascivious amies adowne did creepc, loose That themselves dipping in the silver dew. Their fleecy flowres they fearefuUy did stecpe. Which drops of christall seemed for wantones to wecji. Infinit streames continually did well Out of this fountain, sweete and faire to see, The which into an ample laver fell. And shortly grew to so great quantitie That like a little lake it seemd to bee ; Whose depth exceeded not three cubits hight, That through the waves one might the bottom see, All pavd beneath with jaspar shining bright. That seemd the fountaine in that sea did sayle upright. Eftsoones they heard a most melodious sound presently Of all that mote delight a daintie ear, 42 GEMS FROM THE ENGLISH POETS. Such as attonce might not on living ground, Save in this paradise, be heard elsewhere: Right hard it was for wight which did it heare To read what manner musicke that mote bee ; For all that pleasing is to living eare, Was there consorted in one harmonee ; Birdes, voices, instruments, windes, waters, all agree; The ioyous birdes, shrouded in chearefull shade. Their notes unto the voice attempred sweet; The angelical soft trembling voyces made To the instruments divine respondence meet ; The silver-sounding instruments did meet With the base murmure of the waters fall : The waters fall, with difference discreet, Now soft, now loud, unto the wind did call : The gentle warbling wind low answered to all. ON HEAVENLY LOYE. Love, lift me up upon thy golden wings From this base world unto thy Heaven's hight, Where I may see those admirable things Wliich there thou workest by thy soveraine might, Farre above feeble reach of earthly sight. That I thereof an heavenly hymne may sing Unto the God of Love, high Heaven's King. Before this world's great frame, in which all things Are now containd, found any being place. Ere flitting Time could wag his eyas wings About tliat mightie bound which doth embrace The rolling spheres, and parts there houres by space That high Eternall Powre, which now doth move In all these things, moved in it selfe by love. It loved it selfe, because it selfe was faire (For fair is loved) ; and of itself begot Like to it selfe his eldest Sonne and Heire, Eternall, pure, and voide of sinfuU blot. The firstling of his ioy, in wliom no iot Of love's dislike or pride was to be found, Whom he therefore with equal honour crownd. With him he raigned, before all time prescribed, In endlesse glorie and immortall miglit, EDMUI^D SPENSER. 43 Together with that Third from them derived, Most wise, most holy, most almightie Spright! Whose king-domes throne no thoughts of earthly wight Can comprehend, much lesse my trembling verse With ccpiall words can hope it to reherse. Yet being pregnant still with powrefull grace, And fiill of fruitfuU Love, that Loves to get Things lilie himself e, and to enlarge his race. His second brood, though not of powre so great, Yet full of beautie, next he did beget. An infinite increase of angels bright, All glistring glorious in their Maker's light. To them the Heaven's illimitable hight, (Not this round Heaven, which Ave from hence behold, Adornd with thousand lamps of burning light. And with ten thousand gemmcs of shyning gold,) He gave as their inheritance to hold, That they might serve him in eternal bliss. And be partakers of those ioyes of his. There they in their trinall triplicities About him wait, and on his will depend, Either with nimble wings to cut the skies. When he them on his messages doth send, Or on his owne dread presence to attend. Where they behold the glorie of his light. And caroll hymnes of love both day and night. Both day and night is unto them all one ; For he his beamcs doth unto them extend. That darknesse there appeareth never none ; Ne hath their day, ne hath their blisse, an end. But there their termelesse time in pleasure spend; Ne ever should their happinesse decay. Had not they dared their Lord to disobay. But pride, impatient of long resting peace. Did puffe them up with greedy bold ambition, That they gan cast their state how to increase Vbove the fortune of their first condition. And sit in God's own seat without commission The brightest angel, even the child of light. Drew millions more against their God to fight. The Almighty, seeing their so bold assay, Kindled the flame of his consuming yre, 44 GEMS FROM THE ENGLISH POETS. And with his onely breath them blew away From Heaven's hight, to which fehey did aspyre, To deepest Hell, and lake of damned fyre, Where they in darknesse and dread horror dwell, Hating the happie light from which they fell. But that Eternall Fount of love and grace, Still flowing forth his goodnesse unto all, Now seeing left a waste and emptiu place In his wyde pallace, through those angels' fall Cast to supply the same, and to enstall A new unknowen colony therein. Whose root from earth's base ground workc should begin Therefore of clay, base, vile, and next to nought, Yet forni'd by wondrous skill, and by his might. According to an heavenly patterne wrough; , Which he had fashiond in his wise foresiglit. He man did make, and breathed a livin j;- sprig] it Into his face, most beautiful! and fayrc, Endewd with wisedome's riclies, heav^aly, rare. Such he liim made, that he resemble mig'.it Ilimselfe, as mortall thing immortall coulJ. ; Him to be lord of every living wight lie made by love out of his owne like mould, In whom he might his mightie selfe beliould: For love doth love the thing beloved to see, That like it selfe in lovely shape may bee. But man, forgetful! of his Maker's grace. No lesse than angels, whom he did ensew, Fell from the hope of promist heavenly place. Into the mouth of Death, to sinners dew, And all his off-spring into thraldome threw. Where they for ever should in bonds remaine, Of never-dead yet ever-dying paine. Till that great Lord of Love, which him at firgt Made of meere love, and after liked well. Seeing him lie like creature long accurst In that deep horror of despeyred Hell, Him, wretch, in doole Avould let no longer dwell, But cast out of that bondage to redeeme. And pay the price, all were his debt extreeme. Out of the bosomc of eternal! blisse. In wliich he reigned with liis glorious syre, EDMUND SPENSER. 45 He downe descended, like a most demisse x\nd ahiect thnill, in fleshe's fraile attyre, That lie for him might pay sinne's deadly hyre, And him restore unto that happie state In which lie stood before his haplesse fate. In flesh at first the guilt committed was, Therefore in flesh it must be satisfyde ; Nor spirit, nor angel, though they man surpass, Could make amends to God for man's misguyde, But on(?ly man himselfe, who selfe did slyde : So, taking flesh of sacred virgin's wombe. For man's deare sake he did a man become. And that most blessed bodie, M'hich was borne Without all blemish or reproachful! blame. He freely gave to be both rent and torne Of cruell hands, who with despightfull shame Revyling him, that them most vile became. At length him na^ded on a gallow-tree. And slew the iust by most \uiiust decree. O blessed Well of Love ! O Floure of Grace! O glorious Morning-Starre ! O Lampe of Light! Most lively image of thy Father's face. Eternal Khig of Glorie, Lord of Might, Meeke Lambe of God, before all worlds behight, How can we thee re(]uite for all this good? : Or what can prize that thy most precious blood. Yet nought thou ask'st in lieu of all this love, But love of us, for guerdon of thy paine : Ay me ! what can us lesse than that behove? Had he required life for us againe, Had it beene wrong to ask his owne with gaine? He gave us life, he it restored lost; Then life were least, that us so little cost. But he our life hath left unto us free. Free that was thrall, and blessed that was band; Ne ought demaunds but that we loving bee, As he himselfe hath loved us afore-hand. And bound thereto with an eternall band. Him first to love that was so dearly *bought. And next our brethren, to his image wrought. With all thy hart, with all thy soule and mind, Thou must hirn love, and his beheasts embrace ; 46 GEMS FROM THE ENGLISH POETS. All other loves, with which the world doth blind Weake fancies, and stirre up affections base, Thou must renounce and utterly d isplacc, And give thy selfe unto Him full and free. That full and freely gave himselfe to thee. Then shalt thou feele thy spirit so possest, And ravisht with devouring great desire Of his dear selfe, that shall thy feeble brest Inflame with love, and set thee ?ll on fire With burning zeale, through every part entire, That in no earthly thing thou shalt delight. But in his sweet and amiable sight. Thenceforth all world's desire will in thee dye, And all Earthe's glorie, on which men do gaze, Seeme durt and drosse in thy pure-sighted eye, , Compared to that celestiall beautie's blaze. Whose glorious beames all fleslily sense doth daze With admiration of tlieir passing light, Blinding the eyes, and lumining the spright. Then shall thy ravisht soul inspired bee With heavenly thoughts, fane above humane skill. And thy bright radiant eyes shall plainely see The idee of his pure glorie present still Before thy face, that all thy spirits shall fill With sweete enragement of celestiall love. Sir fljilip Stomu. liS.'^ Sidney is known both for his prose and poetical writings. He was born at Penshurst in Kent of noble parentage, his father being Sir Henry Sidney, and his mother a daughter or the Duke of Northum- berland. When a boy, his genius attracted general notice; and when he was presented at court, his fascinating manners and com- manding figure speedily won the favour of Queen EUzabeth, who conferred on him the honour of knighthood. So much did he become necessary to her, that she used her influence to prevent him from being elected King of Poland. Sidney afterwards com- manded in a battle bef<5re the walls of Zutphen in Gueldres, where he was mortally wounded, and died at the early age of thirty-two. It is related of him that as he was borne from the field faint from loss of blood, he asked for water; but just as the bottle was put to his lips he saw a dying soldier looking wistfully at it, and resigned it, saying, "Thy necessity is greater than mine," SIR PHILIP SIDNEY. 4? SONNETS. With how sad steps, O Moon! thou climb'st the skies, How silently, and with how wan a face! What may it be, that even in heavenly place That busy Archer his sharp arrows tries? Sure, if that long with love acquainted eyes Can judge of love, thou feel'st a lover's case; I read it in thy looks, thy languished grace To me that feel the like thy state descries. Then, even of fellowship, O Moon, tell me, Is constant love deemed there but want of wit? Are beauties there as proud as here they be? Do they above love to be loved, and yet Those lovers scorn whom that love doth possess? Do they call virtue there^ungratefulness? Come, Sleep, O Sleep, the certain knot of peace. The baiting-place of wit, the balm of wo. The poor man's wealth, the prisoner's release, The indifferent judge between the high and low. With shield of proof shield me from out the prease Of those fierce darts. Despair at me doth throw ; make in me those civil wars to cease ; 1 will good tribute pay, if thou do so. Take thou of me smooth pillows, sweetest bed; A chamber deaf to noise, and blind to light; A rosy garland, and a weary head. And if these things, as being thine by_ right, Move not thy heavy grace, thou shalt in me Livelier than elsewhere Stella's image see. Having this day my horse, my hand, my lance Guided so well, that I obtained the prize. Both by the judgment of the English eyes, And of some sent from that sweet enemy France; Horsemen my skill in horsemanship advance; Townfolks my strength; a daintier judge applies^ His praise to sleight which from good use doth rise; Some lucky wits impute it but to chance ; Others, because of both sides I do take My blood from them who did excel in this, Think nature me a man of arms did make. How far they shot awry ! the true cause is, Stella looked on, and from her heavenly face Sent forth the beams v/hich made so fair my race. 48 GEMS FROM THE ENGLISH POETS. happy Thames, that didst my Stella bear ! 1 saw thee with full many a smiling line Upon thy cheerful face joy's livery wear, While those fair planets on tliy streams did shine. The boat for joy could not to dunce forbear ; While wanton winds, with beauties so divine Ravished, staid not, till in her golden hair They did themselves (O sweetest prison) twine: And fain those (EoPs youth there would their stay Have made ; but, forced by Nature still to fly, First did with puffing kiss those locks display. She, so dishevelled, blushed. From window I, With sight thereof, cried out: "O fair disgrace; Let Honour's self to thee grant highest place." An English Jesuit. A victim to the persecuting laws of that period, he wrote some poems in prison, which were very popular at the time. The following piece, Ben Jonson says, is so written that he could destroy many of his own. THE BURNING BABE. As I in hoary winter's night Stood shivering in the snow, Surprised I was with sudden heat, Which made my heart to glow; And lifting up a fearful eye To view what fire was near, A pretty Babe all burning bright, Did in the air ap23ear ; Who, scorched with excessive heat, Such floods of tears did shed. As though his floods should quench his flames, Which with his tears were bred. "Alas!" quoth he, "but newly born, In fiery heats I fry, Yet none approach to warm their hearts Or feel my fire, but I ; My faultless breast the furnace is, The fuel, wounding thorns ; Love is the fire, and sighs the smoke, The ashes, shames and scorns; The fuel justice layeth on. And mercy blows the coals ; CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE. 49 The metal in this furnace wrought Are men's defiled souls : For which, as now on fire I am, To work them to their good, So will I melt into a bath. To wash them in my blood :" With this he vanished out of sight, And swiftly shrunk away, And straight I called unto mind That it was Christmas Day. One of the greatest of the dramatists contemporary with Shake- speare, he was born at Canterbury on 26th February, 1564. His father was a shoemaker, but some kind friends enabled him to at- tend the King's school in Canterbury, where he received a good education. From thence he proceeded to Cambridge, where he took his degree of A.M. While at Cambridge he wrote his first play, " Tamburlaine, " which at once became a great favourite. "Faustus," his second play, abounds in passages of thrilling power. His power of depicting the terrible is unsurpassed ; and that highest attribute of genius, originality, was possessed by him in the greatest degree. Shakespeare has founded many of his finest pieces on the suggestions of Marlowe. But Marlowe's great promise was cut short by his being killed in a disci-editable brawl in the twenty- ninth year of his age. FAUSTUS. Faustus alone. — The Clock strikes Eleven. Faust. Oh, Faustus, Now hast thou but one bare hour to live, And then thou must be damn'd perpetually. Stand still, you ever-moving spheres of heaven, That time may cease and midnight never come. Fair Nature's eye, rise, rise again, and make Perpetual day ! or let this hour be but A year, a mouth, a week, a natural day. That Faustus may repent and save his soul. lente lente currite, noctis equi. The stars move still, time runs, the clock will strike, The devil will come, and Faustus must be damn'd. Oh, I will leap to heaven: who pulls me down? See where Christ's blood streams in the firmament : One drop of blood will save me : Oh, my Christ, Rend not my heart for naming of my Christ. Yet will I call on him : O sj^are me, Lucifer. 3 50 GEMS FR6M the ENGLISH tOETS. Where is it now? 'tis gone! And see a threat'ning arm and angry brow. Mountains and hills, come, come, and fall on me, And hide me from the heavy wrath of heaven. Xo? then I will headlong run into the earth: Gape earth. Oh no, it will not harbour me. You stars that reigned at my nativity. Whose influence have allotted death and hell, Now draw up Faustus like a foggy mist Into the entrails of yon labouring cloud ; That when you vomit forth into the air, My limbs may issue from your smoky mouths, But let my soul mount and ascend to heaven. The Watch strikes. Oh, half the hour is past : 'twill all be ^ast anon. Oh, if my soul must suffer for my sin. Impose some end to my incessant pain. Let Faustus live in hell a thousand years, A hundred thousand, and at the last be saved: No end is limited to damned souls. Why wert thou not a creature wanting soul? Or why is this immortal that thou hast? Oh, Pythagoras ! metempsychosis, were that true, This soul should fly from me, and I be changed Into some brutish beast. All beasts are happy, for when they die. Their souls are soon dissolved in elements; But mine must live still to be plagued in hell. Curst be the parents that engendered me ! No, Faustus, curse thyself, curse Lucifer, That hath deprived thee of the joys of heaven. The Clock strikes Twehe. It strikes, it strikes ; now, body, turn to air. Or Lucifer will bear thee quick to hell. Oh soul, be changed into small water-drops. And fall into the ocean : ne'er be found. Thmidei\ and enter the Devils. Oh mercy, hea^ren, look not so fierce on me. Adders and serpents, let me breathe a while : Ugly hell gape not; come not, Lucifer: I'll burn my books : Oh, Mephistophiles ! WILLIAM SHAKESPEAEE 51 Millmm Sljaktsp^ar^, Born 1564. Died 1616. Shakespeare was born on 23d April, 1564, in Henley Street, Stratford upou-Avon, and though looked on, even in his day, as the greatest poet England had ever produced, the materials of his biography are of the most scanty kind. His father was a wool-dealer and butcher, and though in humble, was never in straitened circumstances. Shakespeare received only a plain education, having at school made no progress beyond the rudiments of Latin. While only eighteen he married Anne Hathaway, the daughter of a small far- mer at Shottery, near Stratford. She was considerably older than himself. Nothing is known of his occupation at this period, ex- cepting that he was making a figure in the justice of peace-court for deer-steaUng. After one of these visits to the justice-court he appears to have written a satirical ballad on the justice, which he affixed to his park gate. The ballad has been lost, but it is said to liave been so bitter that Shakespeare had at last to flee to London, where he began his career at the theatres by holding horses for geiiJemen who came to the play. He afterwards M^as admitted in- iside the theatres to act the humbler parts of the drama. From this moment he rose rapidly, and although all details are awanting. it is known that in his twenty-fifth year he was a sharer in the profits of the representations. In 1593 appeared his first poem, " Venus and Adonis," and in 1594 " Lucrece." About the same time he appears to have become part proprietor of the Globe Theatre, and on the fair way to fortune. His plays were now issvied in rapid succession. The latcer years of Shakespeare's life were spent in ease and retire- ment; lie had accumulated a fortune and retired to his native vil- 1 ge, Avhei-e he passed the remainder of his life. He had three children by Anne Hathaway, two girls and a boy; tht> daughters onlyhurvived their parent. Shakespeare died in his fifty-second year, on his birthday, April 23, 1616. He was buried in tlie parish church of Stratford, where his monument may still be seen. MURDER OF KING DUNCAN. Macbeth and a Servant. Macbeth. Go, bid thy mistress, when my drink is ready, She strike upon the bell. Get thee to bed. [^Exit Servant. Is this a dagger which I see before me, The handle towards my hand? Come, let me clutch thee, I have thee not, and yet I see thee still. Art thou not, fatal vision, sensible To feeling as to sight? — or art thou but A dagger of the mind, a false creation Proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain? I see thee yet, in form as palpable As this which now I draw. Thou marshall'st me the w^ay that I was going; And such an instrument I was to use. Mine eyes are made th' fools o' th' other senses, Or else worth all thQ rest. I see thee still ; 52 GEMS FROM THE ENGLISH POETS. And on thy blade and dudgeon gouts of blood, Which was not so before. There's no such thing. It is the bloody business, which informs Thus to mine eyes. Now, o'er one half the world Nature seems dead, and wicked dreams abuse The curtained sleep : now witchcraft celebrates Pale Hecate's offerings; and withered Murder, Alarumed by his sentinel, the wolf, Whose howl's his watch, thus with his stealthy pace, With Tarquin's ravishing strides, tow'rds his design Moves like a ghost. Thou sound and firm-set earth, Hear not my steps, which way they walk, for fear Thy very stones prate of my whereabout, And take the present horror from the time, Which now suits with it. Wliilst I threat, he lives — Words to the heat of det^ds too cold breath gives. [A hell- ri:i(j:i. I go, and it is done; the bell invites me: Hear it not Duncan, for it is d knell That summons thee to heaven oi' to hell. \_ExU. LOVE SCENE. Romeo. He jests at scars that never felt a wound — But, soft ! what light through yonder window breaks : It is the east, and Juliet is the sun ! {Juliet appears ahove at a window. Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon. Who is already sick and pale with grief. That thou her maid are far more fair than she ; Be not her maid since she is envious; Her vestal livery is but sick and green. And none but fools do wear it ; cast it off It is my lady ; O ! it is my love ; that she knew she were ! She speaks, yet she says nothing. What of that? Her eye discourses ; I will answer it 1 am too bold ; 'tis not to me she speaks : Two of the fairest stars of all the heav'n, Having some business, do entreat her eyes To twinkle in their spheres till they return. What if her eyes were there, they in her head? The brightness of her cheek would slinme those stars, As daylight doth a lamp : her eyes in heaven WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 53 AYould through the airy region stream so bright, That birds would sing, and think it were not night. See how she leans her cheek upon her hand ! Oh that I were a glove ui:>on that hand, That I iniorht touch that cheek ! OTHELLO RELATES HIS COURTSHIP TO THE SENATE. Most potent, grave, and reverend signiors, My very noble and approved good masters; That I have ta'en away this old man's daughter, It is 'most true; true, I have married her; The very head and front of my offending Hath this extent, no more. Rude am I in my speech. And little blest with the soft phrase of peace ; For since these arms of mine had seven years' pith, Till now, some nine moons wasted, they have used Their dearest action in the tented field ; And little of this great world can I speak, More than pertains to feats of broil and battle ; And therefore shall I little grace my cause In speaking for myself. Yet by your gracious patience I will a round i^^nvarnished tale deliver Of my wholepourse of love: what drugs, wha> charms, What conjuration, and what mighty magic — For such proceeding I am charged withal — I won his daughter with. Her father loved me, oft invited me ; Still questioned me the story of my life. From year to year ; the battles, sieges, fortunes, That I have past. I ran it through, ev'n from my boyish days. To the very moment that he bade me telj^^t : Wherein I spoke of most disastrous chances. Of moving accidents by flood and field ; Of hairbreadth 'scapes i' th' imminent deadly breach; Of being taken by the insolent foe, And sold to slavery; of my redemption thence. And portance in my travel's history. Wherein of antres vast and deserts idle. Rough quarries, rocks, and hills whose heads toucll heaven, It was my lot to speak, such was the process ; And of the cannibals that each other eat. 54 GEMS FROM THE ENGLISH POETS. The anthropophagi, and men whose heads Do grow beneath their shoulders. These things to hear Would Desdemona seriously incline ; But still the house affairs would draw her tliencc : Which ever as sjie could with haste despatch, She'd come again, and with a greedy ear Devour up my discourse : which I observing. Took once a pliant hour, and found good means To draw from her a prayer of earnest heart, That I would all my pilgrimage dilate, Whereof by parcels she had something heard, But not intentively. I did consent. And often did beguile her of her tears, Yv^hen I did speak of some distressful stroke That my youth suffered. My story being done, She gave me for my pains a world of sighs; S!ie swore — in faith, 'twas strange, 'twas passing strange; 'Twas pitiful, 'twas wondrous pitiful She wished she had not heard it, yet she wished That Heaven liad made her such a man : — she thanked nic, And bade me, if I had a friend that loved her, I should but teach him how to tell my story; And that would woo her. On this hint I spake; She loved me for the dangers I had passed, And I loved her that she did pity them. LIFE AND DEATH. To be, or not to be, that is the question — Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, Or to take arms against a sea of troubles. And, by opposing, end them? To die — to sleep — No more; and by a sleep to say we end The heart-ache, and the thousand natural shocks That flesh is heir to ! — 'tis a consummation Devoutly to be wished. To die — to sleep- To sleep! — perchance to dream! — ay, there's the rub; For in that sleep of death what dreams may come, When we have shuffled off this mortal coil. Must give us pause — there's the respect That makes calamity of so long life : For who would bear the whips and scorns of time. The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely. WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 55 The pangs of despised love, the law's delay. The insolence of office, and the spurns Tliat patient merit of th' unworthy takes, When he himself might his quietus make With a bare bodkin? Who would fardels bear, To groan and sweat under a weary life, Butthat the dread of something after death — That undiscovered country from whose bourne No traveller returns — puzzles the "will, And makes us rather bear those ills we have, Than fly to others that we know not of? Thus conscience does make cowards of us all, And thus the native hue of resolution Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought, And enterprises of great pith and moment, With this regard, their currents turn awry, And lose the name of action. HanM, FEAR OF DEATH. Ay, but to di(!, and go we know not where: To lie in cold obstruction, and to rot; This sensible warm motion to become A kneaded clod ; and the delighted spirit To bathe in fiery floods, or to reside In thrilling regions of thick-ribbed ice ; To be imprisoned in the viewless winds. And blown witli restless violence round about The pendent world ; or to be worse than worst Of those, that lawless and incertain thoughts Imagine howling : 'tis too horrible ! ^ The weariest and most loathed worldly liie, That age, ache, penury, and imprisonment. Can lay on nature, is a paradise To what we fear of death. Measure for Measure, THE DECEIT OF APPEARANCES. The world is still deceived with ornament. In law, what plea so tainted and corrupt, But being seasoned with a gracious voice. Obscures the show of evil ? In religion, What damned error, but some sober brow 56 GEMS FROM THE ENGLISH POETS. Will bless it, and approve it with a text, Hiding the grossness with fair ornament ? There is no vice so simple, but assumes Some mark of virtue on its outward parts. How many cowards, whose hearts are all as false As stairs of sand, wear yet upon their chins The beards of Hercules and frowning Mars ; Who, inward searched, have livers white as milk! And these assume but valour's excrement, To render them redoubted. Look on beauty, And you shall see 'tis purchased by the weight. Which therein works a miracle in nature. Making them lightest that wear most of it. So are those crisped, snaky, golden locks, Which make such wanton gambols with the wind Upon supposed fairness, often known To be the dowry of a second head, The skull that bred them in the sepulchre. Thus ornament is but the gulled shore To a most dangerous sea; the beauteous scarf Veiling an Indian beauty; in a word, The seeming truth which cunning times put on T' entrap the wisest : therefore, thou gaudy gold, Hard food for Midas, I will none of thee : Nor none of thee, thou pale and common drudge 'Tween man and man : but thou, thou meagre lead. Which rather threatcn'st than dost promise aught, Thy plainness moves me more than eloquence, And here choose I; joy be the consequence. Merchant of Venice, MERCY. The quality of mercy is not strained; It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven Upon the place beneath. It is twice blessed ; It blesseth him that gives, and him that takes. 'Tis mightiest in the mightiest ; it becomes The throned monarch better than his crown : His sceptre shows the force of temporal pow'r, The attribute to awe and majesty, Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings. But mercy is above the sceptred sway ; It is enthroned in the hearts of kings ; It is an attribute to God himself ; WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 57 And earthly power doth then show likest God's. When mercy seasons justice. Therefore, Jew, Though Justice be thy plea, consider this— That, in the course of justice, none of us Should see salvation: we do pray for mercy; And that same prayer doth teach us all to render The deeds of mercy. Merchant of Venice. THE WOULD COMPARED TO A STAGE. All the world's a stage, And all the men and women merely players ; They have their exits and their entrances. And one man in his time plays many parts. His acts being seven ages. At first, the infant, Mewling and puking in his nurse's arms : And then, the whining school-boy, with his satchel And shining morning face, creeping like snail Unwillingly to school. And then, the lover, Sighing like furnace, with a woful ballad Made to his mistress' eyebrow. Then, the soldier. Full of strange oaths, and bearded like the pard, Jealous in ho^uour, sudden and quick in quarrel ; Seeking the bubble reputation Even in the cannon's mouth. And then, the justice, In fair round belly, with good capon lined, With eyes severe, and beard of formal cut. Full of wise saws and modern instances ; And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts Into the lean and slippered pantaloon. With spectacles on nose, and pouch on" side \ His youthful hose well saved, a world too wide For his shrunk shanks ; and his big manly voice, Turning again towards childish treble, pipes And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all. That ends this strange eventful history. Is second childishness, and mere oblivion: Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything. As You Like It. CARDmAL WOLSEY'S SPEECH TO CROMWELU Cromwell, I did not think to shed a tear In all my miseries ; but thou hast forced me. Out of thy honest truth, to play the woman. 3* 58 GEMS FROM THE ENGLISH POETS. Let's dry our eyes : and thus far hear me, Cromwell ; And, wlien I am forgotten, as I shall be. And sleep in dull cold marble, where no mention Of me more must be heard of, say, I taught thee; Say, Wolsey, that once trod tlie ways of glory. And sounded all the depths and shoals of honour, Found thee a way, out of his wreck, to rise in ; A sure and safe one, tho' thy master miss'd it. Mark but my fall, and that that ruin'd me. Cromwell, I charge thee, fling away ambition; By that sin fell the angels ; how can man, then, The image of his Maker, hope to win by 't? Love thyself last: cherish those hearts that hate thee; Corruption wins not more than honesty Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace. To silence envious tongues. Be just, and fear not: Let all the ends thou aim'st at be thy country's, Thy God's, and truth's; then if thou fall'st, O Cromwell' Thou fall'st a blessed martyr. Serve the kiug; And, pr'ythce, lead me in : There, take an inventory of all I have. To the last penny : 'tis the king's : My robe, And my integrity to Heaven, is all I dare now, call mine own. O Cromwell, Cromwell! Had I but served my God with half the zeal I served the king, he would not in mine age Have left me naked to mine enemies! Henry VIII. MUSIC. How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank I Here will we sit, and let the sounds of music Creep in our ears; soft stillness ;md the night Become the touches of sweet harmony. Sit, Jessica ; look how the floor of heaven Is thick inlaid with ])atines of bright gold; There's not the smallest orb which thou behold 'st, But in his motion like an angel sings, Still quiring to the young-eyed cherubims; Such harmony is in immortal souls; But whilst this muddy vesture of decay Doth grossly close it in, we cannot hear it. — Come, ho, and wake Diana with a hymn : With sweetest touches pierce your mistress' ear, And draw her home with music. SIR ROBEET AYTON. 59 Jes I'm never merry when I hear sweet music. Lor. The reason is, your spirits are attentive; For do but note a wild and wanton herd, Or race of youthful and unhandled colts,^ Fetching mad bounds, bellowing and neighmg loud-^ Which is the hot condition of their blood— If they perchance but hear a trumpet sound, Or any air of music touch their ears, You shall perceive them make a mutual stand; Their savage eyes turned to a modest gaze, Bv the sweet power of music. Therefore the poet Did feign that Orpheus drew trees, stones and floods; Since nought so stockish, hard, and full of rage. But music for the time doth change his nature. The man that hath no music in himself, Nor is not moved with concord of sweet sounds, Is fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoils; The motions of his spirit are dull as night, And his affections dark as Erebus: Let no such man be trusted. Meroliant of Venice. IMAGINATION. Lovers and madmen have such seething brains, Such shaping fantasies, that apprehend More than cool reason ever comprehends. The lunatic, the lover, and the poet, Are of imagination all compact: One sees more devils than vast hell can hold; That is, the madman: the lover, all as frantic, Sees Helen's beauty in a brow of Egypt : The poet's eye, in a fine frenzy rolhng. Doth glance from heaven to earth, from earth to heaven ; And as imagination bodies forth The forms of things unknown, to poet s pen Turns them to shape, and gives to airy nothing A local habitation and a name. Midmmmer MghVs JJream, Sir iobwt ^gton. {BSiS?: English. 4>0 GEMS FROM THE ENGLISH TOETS. WOMAN'S INCONSTANCY. I LOVED thee once, I'll love no niore, Thine be the grief as is the blame; Thou are not what thou wast before, What reason I should be the same? He that can love unloved again, Hath better store of love than brain : God send me love my debts to pay, While unthrifts fool their love away. Nothing could have my love o'erthrown, If thou hadst still continued mine ; Yea, if thou hadst remained thy own, I might perchance have yet been thine. But thou thy freedom did recall, That if thou might elsewhere inthral ; And then how could I but disdain A captive's captive to remain? When new desires had conquered thee, And changed the object of thy will, It had been lethargy in me. Not constancy, to love thee still. Yea, it had been a sin to go And prostitute affection so. Since we are taught no prayers to say To such as must to others pray. Yet do thou glory in thy choice. Thy choice of his good -fortune boast; I'll neither grieve nor yet rejoice. To see him gain what I have lost; The height of my disdain shall be. To laugh at him, to blush for thee; To love thee still, but go no more A begging to a beggar's door. Born 1573. gr. loljn ionitt. {m^Smt Dean of St. Paul's, and founder of the Metaphysical School of poetry. His father was a London merchant, descended from an aKcient family in Wales. Donne received a liberal education, and travelled in Spain and Italy. On his return he was appointed secretary to Lord Chancellor Ellesmere. Unfortiinately he fell in love with a niece of the Chancellor, whom he privately married. This brought on his dismissal from his situation, and a whole tram 1)R. JOHN DONNE. 61 of troubles. He afterwards obtained a reconciliation with his wife's friends; and having won King James's favour, he was made Dean of St. Paul's, and afterwards obtained other livings, which enabled him to live in affluence. He died in 1631. THE WILL. Before I sigh my last gasp, let me breathe, Great Love, some legacies : I here bequeath Mine eyes to Argus, if mine eyes can see; If they be blind, then, Love, I give them thee; My tongue to Fame; to ambassadors mine ears; To women, or the sea, my tears; Thou, Love, hast taught me heretofore. By making me serve her who had twenty more, That I should give to none but such as had too much before. I My constancy I to the planets give; My truth to them who at the court do live; Mine ingenuity and openness To Jesuits; to buffoons my pensiveness; My silence to any who abroad have been ; My money to a Capuchin. Thou, Love, taught'st me, by appointing me To love there, where no love received can be, Only to give to such as have no good capacity. My faith I give to Roman Catholics ; All my good works unto the schismatics Of Amsterdam ; my best civility And courtship to an university ; My modesty I give to soldiers bare; My patience let gamesters share; Thou, Love, taught'st me, by making me Love her that holds my love disparity, Only to give to those that count my gifts indignity. I give my reputation to those Which were my friends; mine industry to foes; To schoolmen I bequeath my doubtfulness; My sickness to physicians, or excess ; To Nature all that I in rhyme have writ! And to my company my wit : Thou, Love, by making me adore Her who begot this love in me before, Taught'st me to make as though I gave, when I do but restore. B2 GEMS FROM f HE ENGLISH POEf S. To him for whom tiie passing bell next tolls I give my physic book; my written rolls Of moral counsels I to Bedlam give; My brazen medals, unto them which live In want of bread; to them which pass among All foreigners, my English tongue: Thou, Love, by making me love one Who thinks lier friendship a fit portion For younger lovers, dost my gifts thus disproportion. Therefore I'll give no more, but I'll undo The world by dying, because love dies too. Then all your beauties will be no more worth Tlian gold in mines, where none dotlidraw it forth, And all your graces no more use shall liave Tlian a sun-dial in a grave. Thou, Love, taught'st me, by making me Love her who doth neglect both me and thee, To invent and practise this one way to annihilate all three. §tn lonson. {^S\'^: Benjamin Jonson, of the family of the Johnstones of Annandale, was born at Westminster in 1574. His father was a clergyman. Jonson was educated at Westminster School; and after leaving it, enlisted as a soldier, and served with the army in Flanders. At the age of 20 we find him again in London, married, first acting, and then writing plays. In 1598 his first play was acted at the Globe Theatre, Shakespeai-e being one of the actors. His plays were very successful, and brought him greatly into notice; and he was ap- pointed Poet Laureate, with a pension ultimately raised to ill 01) a year. Jonson was often in quarrels and trouble from a too free use of his pen. On one occasion he assisted in writing a piece called " Eastward Hoe," which so greatly libelled the Scotch that James I. had him arrested, and with the other authors put in prison; from which, however, he was very soon released. His plays number about fifty in all, and were the beginning of a new style of English Comedy. He died 16th August, 1637, and is buried in Westminster Abbey, where on his tablet is inserted, '• O rare Ben Jonson." TO CELIA. Dkink to me only with thine eyes, And I will pledge with mine ; Or leave a kiss but in the cup. And I'll not look for wine. The thirst that from the soul doth rise, Doth ask a drink divine ; But might I of Jove's nectar sup, I would not change for thine. BEN JONSON. 63 I sent thee late a rosy wreath, Not so mucli honouring thee, As giving it a hope that there It could not withered be. But thou thereon didst only breathe, And sent'st it back to me ; Since when it grows, and smells, I swear, Not of itself, but thee. ADVICE TO A RECKLESS YOUTH. What would I have you do? I'h tt;ll you, ^kinsman : Learn to be wise, and practise how to thrive. That would I have you do , and not to spend Your coin on every bauble that you fancy, Or every foolish brain Inat humours you. I would not have you to invade each place, Nor tlirust yourself v.-n all societies. Till men's aflectionr, or your own desert, Should worthily inv^ite you to your rank. He that is so respectless in his courses. Oft sells his reputation at cheap market. Nor would I you should melt away yourself In flashing bravery, lest, while }0u affect To make a blaze of gentry to the world, A little puff of scorn extinguish it, And you be left like an unsavoury snuff. Whose property is only to offend. I'd ha' you sober, and contain yourself; Not that your sail be bigger than your boat ; But moderate your expenses now (at first) As you may keep the same projoortion still. Nor stand so much on your gentility, Which is an airy and mere borrowed thing. From dead men's dust and bones; and none of yours, Except you make, or hold it. THE PLEASURES OF HEAVEN. There all the happy souls that ever were, Shall meet with gladness in one theatre ; And each shall know there one another's face, By beatific virtue of the place. 64 GEMS FROM THE ENGLISH POETS. There shall the brother with the sister walk, And sons and daughters Mdth their parents talk? But all of God : they still shall have to say, But make him all in all their theme that day; That happy day that never shall see night ! Where he will be all beauty to the sight; Wine or delicious fruits unto the taste ; A music in the ears will ever last; Unto the scent, a spicery or balm ; And to the touch, a flower, like soft as palm, He will all glory, all perfection be, God in the Union and the Trinity ! That lioly, great, and glorious mystery, Will there revealed be in majesty, By light and comfort of spiritual grace ; The vision of our Saviour face to face, In his humanity ! to hear him preach The price of our redemption, and to teach. Through his inherent righteousness in death, The safety of our souls and forfeit breath ! What fulness of beatitude is here ! What love with mercy mixed doth appear! To style us friends, who were by nature foes ! Adopt us heirs by grace, who w^cre of those Had lost ourselves ; and prodigally spent Our native portions and possessed rent ! Yet have all debts forgiven us ; an advance By imputed right to an inheritance In his eternal kingdom, where we sit Equal with angels, and co-heirs of it. I0SCPIJ lall, BISHOP OF NORWICH. Born 1574. Died l(ir;6 Author of several satires published under the title of Vergidenii- arum in 1597, THE POOR GALLANT. Seest thou how gaily my young master goes, Vaunting himself upon his rising toes ; And pranks his hand upon his dagger's side; And picks his glutted teeth since late noon-tide? 'Tis Kuffio: Trow'st thou where he dined to day? JOSEPH HALL. 65 In sooth I saw him sit with Duke Humphrey. Many good welcomes, and much gratis cheer, Keeps he for every straggling cavalier ; An open house, haunted with great resort; Long service mixt with musical disport. Many fair younker with a feathered crest, Chooses much rather be his shot-free guest, To fare so freely with so little cost, Than stake his twelvepence to a meaner host, Hadst thou not told me, I should surely say He touched no meat of all this livelong day. For sure methought, yet that was but a guess, His eyes seemed sunk for very hollowness, t But could ha have — as I did it mistake — So little in his purse, so much upon his back? So nothing in his maw? yet seemeth by his belt That his gaunt gut no too nmch stuffing felt. Seest thou how side it hangs beneath his hip? Hunger and heavy iron makes girdles slip. Yet for all that, how stiffly stmts he by, All trapped in the new found bravery. The nuns of new-won Calais his bonnet lent, In lieu of their so kind a conquerment. What needed he fetch that from farthest Spain, His grandame could have lent with lesser pain! Though he perhaps ne'er passed the English shore Yet fain would counted be a conqueror. His hair, French-like, stares on his frighted head, One lock amazon-like dishevelled, As if he meant to wear a native cord, If chance his fates should him that bane afford. All British bare u])on the bristled skin. Close notched is his beard, both lip and chin; His linen collar labyrinthian set. Whose thousand double turnings never met : PIIs sleeves half hid with elbow pinionings, As if he meant to fly with linen wings. But when I look, and cast mine eyes below. What monster meets mine eyes in human show? So slender waist with such an abbot's loin, Did never sober nature sure conjoin. Like'st a strawn scarecrow m the new-sown field, Reared on some stick, the tender corn to shield, Or, if that semblance suit not every deal. Like a broad shake-fork with a slender steel. 66 GEMS l''EOM THE ENGLISH POETS. Francis Beaumont and John Fletcher have been conspicuous for a literary partnership in the composition of dramas to an extent here- tofore unknown. The number issued under tlieir joint authorship was above fifty, and embraced a period of ten years. It is said that "Beaumont found the judgment, and Fletcher the fancy," so con- spicuous in these dramas. Though both these authors wrote poems Eublished under their respective names, they are now chiefly known rom the plays which have blended their genius in indissoluble con- nection. Beaumont was a descendant of an ancient family in Lei- cester, and Fletcher was son of the Bishop of London. \ FROM PHILASTER. f Hunting the buck, I found him sitting by a fountain-side, Of which he borrowed somij to quench his thirst, And paid the nymph again as much in tears. A garland hiy him by, made by himself. Of many several flowers, bred in the bay. Stuck in that mystic order, that the rareness Delighted me : But ever when he turned His tender eyes upon them he would weep, As if he meant to make them grow again. Seeing such pretty helpless innocence Dwell in his face, I asked him all liis story. He told me that his parents gentle died. Leaving him to the mercy of the fields. Which gave him roots; and of the crystal springs, Which did not stop their courses; and the sun, Which still, he thanked him, yielded him his light. Then took he up his garland, and did show What every flower, as country people hold, Did signify ; and how all, ordered thus, Expressed his grief; and to my thoughts did read The prettiest lecture of his country art That could be wished ; so that methought I could Have studied it. I gladly entertained him, Who was as glad to follow. f bi% Slassmgcr. {KS A TALENTED but Unfortunate tragic poet, born near Salisbury, and a dependent of the Earl of Pembroke. Little is known of his life, ex- cept from the incidental notices of his }nisfortunes. His plays are still Known in the theatrical world. He died in March, 1040, IPHILIP MASSINGER. 67 ARISTOCRATIC TYRANNY. Briefly thus, then, Since I must speak for all ; your tyranny- Drew us from our obedience. Happy those times When lords were styled fathers of families, And not imperious masters! when they numbered Their servants almost equal with their sons, Or one degree beneath them! when their labours Were cherished and rewarded, and a period Sot to their sufferings; when they did not press Their duties or their wills beyond the power And strength of their performance ! all tilings ordered With such decorum as wise lawmakers, From each well-governed private house derived The perfect model of a commonwealth. Humanity then lodged in the hearts of men. And thankful masters carefully provided For creatures wanting reason. The noble horse, That, in his fiery youth, from his wide nostrils Neighed courage to his rider, and brake through Groves of opposed pikes, bearing his lord Safe to triumphant victory ; old or wounded, Was set at liberty, and freed from service. The Athenian mules, that from the quarry drew Marble, hewed for the temples of the gods. The great work ended, were dismissed, and f^d At the public cost ; nay, faitlif ul dogs have found Their sepulchres ; but man, to man more cruel, Appoints no end to the sufferings of his sla^^e ; Since pride steps in and riot, and o'erturned This goodly frame of concord, teaching masters To glory in the abuse of such as are Brought under their command; who, grown unuseful, Are less esteemed than beasts. — This you have practised, Practised on us with rigour ; this hath forced us To shake our heavy yokes off; and, if redress Of these just grievances be not granted us. We'll right ourselves, and by strong hand defend What we are now possessed of. GEMS PROM THE ENGLISH POETS. Millhtm gntmmonb. JSlfl This Scottish Poet was bcrn at his patrimonial seat, Hawthornden, near Edinburgh. 13th December, 15s5. He received his education in Edinburgh University, his parents expecting he would prosecute the profession of the law: but his father dying in IGIU, he thought his paternal estate suffleient for his wants, and he therefore fol- lowed out his own tastes by devoting himself to literary pursuits. His poems are replete v,ith beauty and classic elegance, and he ranks high among the reforniers of versification. In his forty-fifth year Drummund married the granddaughter of Sir Robert Logan of Restalrig, and died in 164&. A SOLITARY LIFE. Thrice happy he who by some shady grove, Far from the clamorous world, doth live his own. Thou solitary, who is not alone, But doth converse with that eternal love. O how more sweet is bird's harmonious moan, Or the hoarse sobbings of the widowed dove, Than those smooth whisperings near a prince's throne, Which good make doubtful, do the evil approve ! O how more sweet is Zephyi's wholesome breath, And sighs embalmed which new-born flowers unfold, Than that applause vain honour doth bequeath! How sweet are streams to poison drank in gold! The world is full of horror, troubles, slights : Wood's harmless shades have only true delights. TO A NIOHTINGALE. iSwEET bird ! that sing'st away the early hours Of winters past, or coming, void of care. Well pleased with delights which present are. Fair seasons, budding sprays, sweet-smelling flowers; To rocks, to springs, to rills from leafy bowers, Thou thy Creator's goodness dost declare, And what dear gifts on thee he did not spare, A stain to human sense in sin that low'rs. What soul can be so sick which by thy songs- Attired in sweetness — sweetly is not driven Quite to forget earth's turmoils, spites, and wrongs, And lift a reverend eye and thought to heaven? Sweet artless songster ! thou my mind dost raise To airs of spheres — yes, and to angels' lays. WILLIAM DRUMMOND. i THE RIVER FORTH FEASTING. What blustering noise now interrupts my sleeps? What echoing shouts thus cleave my crystal deeps? And seem to call me from my watery court? What melody, what sounds of joy and sport, Are conveyed hither from each night-born spring? * With what loud murmurs do the mountains ring, Which in unusual pomp on tiptoes stand. And, full of wonder, overlook the land ? Whence come these glitterings throngs, these meteors bright, This golden people glancing in my sigM ? Whence doth this praise, applause and love arise ; What loadstar draweth us all eyes? Am I awake, or have some dreams conspired To mock my sense with what I most desired? View I that living face, see I those looks. Which with delight were wont t' amaze my brooks? Do I behold that worth, that man divine. This age's glory, by these banks of mine ? Then find I true what I long wished in vain ; My much beloved prince is come again. So unto them whose zenith is the pole. When six black months are past, the sun does roll. So after tempest to sea-tossed wights, Fair Helen's brothers show their clearing lights : So comes Arabia's wonder from her woods. And far, far off is seen by Memphis' floods ; The feathered silvans, cloud-like, by her fly, And with triumphing plaudits beat the sky ; Nile marvels. Scrap's priests entranced rave, And in Mygdonian stone her shape engrave; In lasting cedars they do mark the time In which Apollo's bird came to their clime. Let mother-earth now decked with flowers be seen, And sweet-breathed zephyrs curl the meadows green : Let heaven weep rubies in a crimson shower, Such as on India's shores they used to pour: Or with that golden storm the fields adorn Which Jove rained when his blue eyed maid was bom. May never hours the web of day outweave ; May never night rise from her sable cave ! Swell proud my billows, faint not to declare Your joys as ample as their causes are : 70 GEMS FROM THE ENGLISH POETS. For murmurs hoarse sound like Arion's harp, Now delicatelj' flat, now sweetly sharp ; And you, my nymphs, rise from your moist repair, Strew all your springs and grots with lilies fair. Some swiftest footed, get them hence, and pray Our floods and lakes may keep this holiday ; Whatever beneath Albania's hills do run, Whiqii see the rising or the setting sun. Which drink stern Grampus' mists, or Ochil's snows : Stone-rolling Tay, Tyne, tortoise-like, that flows ; The pearly Don, the Dees, the fertile Spey, Wild Severn, which doth see our longest day ; Ness, smoking sulphur, Leve, with mountains crowned, Strange Lomond for his floating isles renowned ; The Irish Rian, Ken, the silver Ayr, The snaky Doon, the Orr with rushy hair, The crystal-streaming Nith, loud bellowing Clyde, Tweed which no more our kingdoms shall divide; Rank-swelling Annan, Lid with curled streams The Esks, the Sol way, where they lose their names; To every one proclaim our joys and feasts, Our triumphs ; bid all come and be our guests ; And as they meet in Neptune's azure hall, Bid tliem bid sea-gods keep this festival ; This day shall by our currents be renowned; Our hills about shall still this day resound: Nay, that our love more to this day appear, Let us with it henceforth begin our year. THE ASCENSION OF CHRIST. * * Bright portals of the sky, Emboss'd with sparkling stars; Doors of eternity, With diamantine bars. Your arras rich uphold ; Loose all your bolts and springs. Ope wide your leaves of gold ; That in your roofs may come the King of kings, " Scarf 'd in a rosy cloud, He doth ascend the air ; Straight doth the Moon him shroud With her resplendent hair ; WILLIAM DRUMMOND. The next cncrystaU'd light Submits to him its beams; And he doth trace the height Of that fair lamp which flames of beauty streams. *'.He towers those golden bounds He did to Sun bequeath ; The higher wandering rounds Are found his feet beneath : The milky-way comes near, Heaven's axle seems to bend, Above each turning sphere That, robed in glory, Heaven's King may ascend. " O Well-spring of this all! Thy Father's image vive ; Word, that from nought did call What is, doth reason, live ! The soul's eternal food, Earth's joy, delight of Heaven, All truth, love, beauty, good, To Thee, to Thee, he praises ever given. " What was dismarshall'd late In this thy noble frame, And lost the prime estate, Hath re-obtain'd the same, Is now most perfect seen ; Streams, which diverted were (Anl, troubled, stray'd, unclean) From their first source, by thee home turned are. *' By thee, that blemish old Of Eden's leprous prince. Which on his race took hold, And him exiled from thence. Now put away is far; With sword, in ireful guise. No cherub more shall bar Poor man the entrance into ParadisGo " Now each ethereal gate To him hath open'd been ; And Glory's King in state His palace enters in: Now come is this High Priest In the most holy place, 72 GEMS FROM THE ENGLISH POETS. Not without blood addrest, With glory Heaven, the Earth to crown with grao^.. " Stars, which all eyes were late, And did with wonder burn, His name to celebrate. In flaming tongues them turn; Their orby crystals move More active than before, And entheatc from above, Their sovereign prince laud, glorify, adore. "The choirs of happy souls. Waked with that music sweet. Whose descant care controls. Their Lord in triumph meet ; The spotless spirits of light His trophies do extol, , And, arch'd in squadrons bright, ' Greet their great Victor in his capitol. *' O glory of the Heaven ! O sole delight of Earth ! To Thee all power be given, God's uncreated birth ; Of mankind lover true, Endurer of his wrong. Who dost the world renew. Still be thou our salvation, and our song." From top of Olivet such notes did rise, When man's Redeemer did transcjind the skies. gobtrt im-ith. Born 1501. Died 1074. Born in London in 1591. He Avas presented to the vicarage of Dean Prior in Devonshire by Cliarles I. During tlie civil wars he was ejected by Cromwell, but at the Restoration was again replaced in his vicarage, where he died in 1674. The poetical works of Herrick were neglected for many years after his death, l)ut since then somo of Ills short lyrical pieces have been set to music, and are still sung, such as "Cherry Ripe," "Gather the Rosebuds." He is also the luthor of some Hymns. TO BLOSSOMS. Fair pledges of a fruitful tree, Why do you fall so fast? Your date is not so past. EGBERT HERRICK. 73 But you may stay yet liere awhile. To blush and gently smile, And go at last. What ! were ye born to be An hour or half's delight, And so to bid good night? 'Tis pity nature brought ye forth Merely to show your worth, And lose you quite. "But you are lovely leaves, where we May read how soon things have Their end, though ne'er so brave : And after they have shown their pride. Like you awhile, they glide Into the n-rave. TO PRIMROSES, Filled with Morning Dew. Why do ye weep, sw^cet babes? Can tears Speak grief in you, Who were but born Just as the modest morn Teemed her refreshing dew? Alas! you have not known that shower That mars a flower. Nor felt the unkind Breath of a blasting wind ; Nor are ye worn witli years, Or warped as we, Who think it strange to see Such pretty flowers, like to orphans young, Speaking by tears before ye have a tongue. Speak, whimp'ring younglings, and make known The reason why Ye (^roop and weep; Is it for want of sleep, Or childish lullaby? Or that ye have not seen as yet The violet? Or brought a kiss 4 74 GEMS FROM THE ENGLISH POETS. From that sweet heart to this? No, no ; this sorrow shown By your tears shed, Would have this lecture read — "That things of greatest, so of meanest worth. Conceived with grief are, and with tears brought forth.' FOR COMFORT IN DEATH. In the hour of my distresse, When temptations me oppresse, And when I my sins confesse; Sweet Spirit, comfort me. When I lie within my bed. Sick in heart and sick in head, And with doubts disquieted ; Sweet Spirit, comfort mc. When the house doth sigh and weep, And the world is drown'd in sleep. Yet mine eyes the watch do keep ; Sweet Spirit, comfort me. When the passing-bell doth toll. And the Furies, in a shoal, Come to fright my parting soul, Sweet Spirit, comfort me. When, God knowes, I'm tost about, Either with despair or doubt. Yet before the glasse be out, Sweet Spirit, comfort me. When the Tempter me pursu'th With the sins of all my youth, And half-damns me with untruth, Sweet Spirit, comfort me. When the judgment is reveal'd. And that open'd which was seal'd, When to Thee I have appeal'd. Sweet Spirit, comfort me. KEANCIS QUAELES. 75 gxmxth #uarles. l^ISlm. BouN near Romford, Essex; was cup bearer to Elizabeth vf Bo- hemia; afterwards secretary to Archbishop Usher in Ireland, where he lo.sfc most of his wealth in the RebeUion of 1641, He joined Charles in the civil wars; and having had all his property seques- trat<'d by Parliament, and his MS. plundered, he took thematter so uuich to heart that it hastened his death, which touk place in 16i4. THE VANITY OF THE WORLD. False world, thou ly'st : thou canst not lend The least delight : Thy favours cannot gain a friend, They are so slight: Thy morning pleasures make an end To please at night: Poor are the wants that thou supply'st, And yet thou vaunt'st, and yet thou vy'st With heaven ; fond earth, thou boast'st ; false world, thou ly'st. Thy babbling tongue tells golden tales Of endless treasure; Thy bounty offers easy sales Of lasting pleasure; Thou ask'st the conscience what she ails, And swear'st to ease her: There's none can want where thou supply'st: There's none can give where thou deny'st. Alas ! fond world, thou boast'st ; false world, thou ly'st What well-advised 'ear regards What earth can say? Thy words are gold, but thy rewards Are painted clay : Thy cunning can but pack the cards, Thou canst not play : Thy game at weakest, still thou vy'st ; If seen, and then revy'd, deny'st : Thou art not what thou seem'st; false world, thou ly'st. Thy tinsel bosom seems a mint Of new-coined treasure ; A paradise, that has no stint. No change, no measure; 76 GEMS FROM THE ENGLISH POETS. A painted cask, but nothing in't, Nor wealth, nor j)leasure : Vain earth ! that falsely thus comply'st With man ; vain man ! that thou rely'st On earth ; vain man, thou dot'st ; vain earth, thou ly'st. What mean dull souls, in this high measure, To haberdash In earth's base wares, whose greatest treasure Is dross and trash? The height of wliose enchanting pleasure Is but a flash? Are these the goods that thou supply'st Us mortals witli? Are these the high'st? Can these bring cordial peace? false world, thou ly'st. DELIGHT IN GOD ONLY. I LOVE — and have some cause to love — the earth : She is my Maker's creature ; therefore good : She is my mother, for she gave me birth ; She is my tender nurse — she gives me food ; But what's a creature, Lord, compared with thee! Or what's my mother or my nurse to me? I love the air : her dainty sweets refresh My drooping soul, and to new sweets invite me; Her shrill-mouthed quire sustains me with their flesh. And with their polyphouiau notes delight me : But what's the air or all the sweets that she Can bless my soul withal, compared to thee? I love the sea : she is my fellow-creature. My careful purveyor; she provides me store: She walls me round ; she makes my diet greater ; She wafts my treasure from a foreign shore : But, Lord of oceans, when compared with thee, What is the ocean or her wealth to me? To heaven's high city I direct my journey. Whose spangled suburbs entertain mine eye; Mine eye, by contemplation's great attorney. Transcends the crystal pavement of the sky : But what is heaven, great God, compared to thee? Without thy presence heaven's no heaven to me. FRANCIS QUARLES. 77 Without thy presence earth gives no refection ; Without thy presence sea affords no treasure ; Without thy presence air's a rank infection ; Without thy presence heaven itself no pleasure : If not possessed, if not enjoyed in thee, What's earth, or sea, or air, or heaven to me? The highest honours that the world can boast, Are subjects far too low^ for my desire ; The briglitest beams of glory are —at most — But dying sparkles of thy living fire : The loudest flames that earth can kindle, be But nightly glowworms, if compared to thee. Without thy presence wealth is bags of cares; Wisdom but folly; joy disquiet — sadness: Friendship is treason, and delights are snares; Pleasures but pain, and mirth but pleasing madness; Without thee. Lord, things be not what they be, Nor have they being, when compared with thee. In having all things, and not thee, what have I? Not having thee, what have my labours got? Let me enjoy but thee, what further crave I? And having thee alone, what have I not? I wish nor sea nor land; nor would I be Possessed of heaven, heaven unpossessed of thee. DECAY OF LIFE. The day grows old, the low pitched lamp hath made No less than treble shade. And the descending damp doth now prepare To uncurl bright Titan's hair; Whose western wardrobe now begins to unfold Her purples, fringed with gold, To clothe his evening glory, when the alarms Of rest shall call to rest in restless Thetis' arms. Nature now calls to supper, to refresh The spirits of all flesh ; The toiling ploughman drives his thirsty teams, To taste the slipp'ry streams ; The droiling swineherd knocks away, and feasts His hungry whining guests: The boxbill, ouzle, and the dappled thrush, Jiike hungry rivals meet at their beloved bugh. 78 GEMS FROM THE ENGLISH POETS. And now the cold autumnal dews are seen To cobweb every green ; And by the low-shorn rowans doth appear The fast declining year : The sapless branches doff their summer suits And wain their winter fruits; And stormy blasts have forced the quaking t'/ces To wrap their trembling limbs in suits of mossy frieze. Our wasted taper now hath brouglit her light To the next door to-night ; Her sprightless flame grown with great snuif, dotii turn Sad as her neighboring urn: Her slender inch, that yet unspent remains, Liglits but to further pains, And in a silent language bids her gr.est Prepare his weary limbs to take eternal rest. Now careful age hath pitched her painful plough Upon the furrowed brow; And snowy blasts of discontented care Have blanched the falling hair: Suspicious envy mixed with jealous spite Disturbs his weary night : He threatens youth with age; and now. ahis! He owns not what he is, but vaunts the man he was, Grey hairs peruse thy days, and let thj past Read lectures to thy last : Those hasty wings that hurried them away Will give these days no day : The constant wheels of nature scorn to tire Until her works expire : That blast that nipped thy youth will ruin thee ; That hand that shook the branch will quickly strike tlie tree. FLEEING FROM WRATH. Ah! whither shall I fly? what path untrod Shall I seek out to 'scape the flaming rod Of my offended, of my angry God? Where shall I sojourn? what kind sea will hide My head from thunder? where shall I abide, Until his flames be quench'd or laid aside? GEORGE HERBERT. 79 "What, if my feet should take their hasty flight, And seek protection in the shades of night? Alas ! no shades can blind the God of light. What, if my soul should take the wings of day, And find some desert? If she springs away, The wings of vengeance clip as fast as they. What, if some solid rock should entertain My frighted soul? can solid rocks restrain The stroke of Justice, and not cleave in twain? Nor sea, nor shade, nor shield, nor rock, nor cave, Nor silent deserts, nor the sullen grave. What flame-ey'd fury means to smite, can save. 'Tis vain to flee, till gentle Mercy show Her better eye ; the farther off we go. The swing of Justice deals the mightier blow. The ingenuous child, corrected, doth not fly His angry mother's hand, but clings more nigh, And quenches with his tears her flaming eye. Great God ! there is no safety here below ; Thou art my fortress, thou that seem'st my foe, 'Tis thou, that strik'st the stroke, must guard the blow. ^corgt itrfort. {§?«"? iSI Herbert was of noble birth, being descended from the Earls of Pem- broke. His elder brother was Lord Herbert of Cheibury. Herbert was born at Montgomery Castle in Wales, on 3d April. 1598, and was educated to push his way at court; but in 1626 circumstances m^ duced him to enter into sacred orders, and he was settled as prebejid of Layton Ecclesia, near Spalding. In uncertain health, he after- wards was made rector of Benierton, near SaUsbury, where he passed the remainder of his short life in the exercise of the duties <.f his office, with saintlike zeal and devotion. Here he wrote his poems, which breathe in verse the rules laid down by himself for his own iirectiou as a country parson. He died in 1632. VERTUE. Sweet day, so cool, so calm, so bright, The bridall of the earth and skie : The dew shall weep thy fall to-nigh^; For thou must die. 80 GEMS FROM THE ENGLISH POETS, Sweet rose, whose hue angrie and brave Bids the rash gazer wipe his eye, Thy root is ever in its grave. And thou must die. Sweet spring, full of sweet dayes and roseSj A box where sweets compacted lie. My musick shows ye have your closes, And all must die. Onely a sweet and vertuous soul, Like season'd timber, never gives ; But though the whole world turn to coal. Then chiefly lives. LIFE. I MADE a posie, while the day ran by : Here will I smell my remnant out, and tie My life within this band. But Time di I becken to the flowers, and they By noon most cunningly did steal away. And withered in my hand. My hand was next to them, and then my heart; I took, without more thinking, in good part Time's gentle admonition ; Who did so sweetly death's sad taste convey. Making my minde to smell my fatall day. Yet sugring tlie suspicion. Farewell, dear flowers, sweetly your time ye spent Fit, while ye lived, for smell or ornament. And after death for cures. I follow straight without complaints or grief, Since if my scent be good, I care not, if It be as short as yours. THE SEARCH. Whither, O, whither art thou fled, My Lord, my Love? My sArches are my daily bread ; Yet never prove. GEORGE HERBERT. 8l My knees pierce th' earth, mine eies the skie : And yet the sphere And centre both to me denie Tliat thou art there. Yet can I mark how herbs below Grow green and gay; As if to meet thee they did know, While I decay. Yet can I mark how starres above Simper and shine, As having keyes unto thy love, While poore I pine. I sent a sigh to seek thee oul;, Deep drawn in pain, Wing'd like an arrow : but my scout Returns in vain. I tun'd another (having store) Into a grone, Because the search was dumbe before : But all was one. Lord, dost thou some new fabrick mold Which favour winnes, And keeps the present, leaving th' old Unto their sinnes? Where is my God? what hidden place Conceals thee still? What covert dare eclipse thy face? Is it thy will? O let not that of any thing : Let rather brasse, Or steel, or mountains be thy ring, And I will passe. Thy will such an intrenching is. As passeth thought: To it all strength, all subtilties Are things of nought. Thy will such a strange distance is, As that to it East and West touch, the poles do And parallels meet. 4* 82 GEMS FROM THE ENGLISH POETS. Since then my grief must be as large As is thy space, Thy distance from me ; see my charge, Lord, see my case. O take these barres, these lengths away: Turn, and restore me : Be not Alraightie, let me say, Against, but for me. When thou dost turn, and wilt be neare ; What edge so keen, What point so piercing can appeare To come between? For as thy absence doth excell All distance known : So doth thy nearnesse bear the bell, Making two one. THE QUIP. The merrie world did on a day With his train-bands and mates agree To meet together, where I lay, And all in sport to geere at me. First, Beautie crept into a rose ; Which when I phickt not, Sir, said she, Tell me, I pray. Whose hands are those? But thou shalt answer, Lord, for me. Then Money came, and chinking still. What tune is this, poore man? said he : I heard in Musick you had skill: But thou shalt answer, Lord, for me. Then came brave Glorie puffing by In silks that whistled, who but he! He scarce allow'd me lialf an eie : But thou shalt answer, Lord, for me. Then came quick Wit and Conversation, And he would needs a comfort be. And, to be short, make an oration : But thou shalt answer. Lord, for me. GEORGE HERBERT. 83 Yet when the hoiire of thy designe To answer these fine things shall come ; Speak not at large, say, I am thine, And then they have their answer home. PEACE. Sweet Peace, where dost thou dwell? Ihtmbly crave. Let me once know, I sought thee in a secret cave. And ask'd, if Peace were there. A hollow winde did seem to answer, No; Go seek elsewhere. I did; and going did a rainbow note: Surely, thought I, This is the lace of Peace's coat : I will search out the matter. But while I lookt the clouds inimediatel/ Did break and scatter. Then went I to a garden and did spy A gallant flower, The crown Imperiall : Sure, said I, Peace at the root must dwell. But when I digg'd, I saw a worm devour* What show'd so well. At length I met a rev'rend good old man; Whom when for Peace I did demand, he thus began : There was a Prince of old At Salem dwelt, who lived with good increase Of flock and fold. He sweetly liv'd ; yet sweetnesse did not save His life from foes. But after death out of his grave, There sprang twelve stalks of wheat: Which many wond'ring at, got some of those To plant and set. It prosper'd strangely, and did soon disperse Through all the earth : For they that taste it do rehearse, That vertue lies therein ; 84 GEMS FROM THE ENGLISH POETS. A secret vertuc, bringing peace and mirth By flight of sinne. Take ol this grain, which in my garden grows, And grows for you ; Make bread of it : and that repose And peace, which ev'ry where With BO much earnestnesse you do pursue Is onely there. lamts ^lyu-iti). ]ESS: A DISTINGUISHED dramatist, of whom it was said by the Censor that his plays were free irom "oaths, profaneness, or obsoeneness." He was born in London in l.V.*6. and was designed for lioly oideis. He officiated as curate at St. Albans, but resigned the curacy