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songs, which they call Arentos,' both of smelling flowers, nor whatsoever else may their ancestors' deeds, and praises of their make the too-much-loved earth more lovegods. A sufficient probability that, if ly: her world is brazen, the poets only deever learning came among them, it must liver a golden.”—“ Neither let it be deemed be by having their hard, dull wits softened too saucy a comparison, to balance the highand sharpened with the sweet delight of poe-est point of man's wit with the efficacy of try; for until they find a pleasure in the nature; but rather give right honour to the exercise of the mind, great promises of much heavenly Maker of that maker, who having knowledge will little persuade them that made man in his own likeness, set him beknow not the fruits of knowledge." He yond and over all the works of that second next proceeds to contrast poetry generally, nature, which in nothing he showed so much as an art, with all other arts and sciences, as in poetry-when, with the force of a diin the following skilful and highly eloquent vine breath, he bringeth things forth surpassing her doings; with no small arguinents to the incredulous of that first accursed fall of Adam.-Since our erect wit maketh us know what perfection is, and yet our infected will keepeth us from reaching unto it."

manner:

through this part of the subject, but may mention, in passing, that he here announces, and in some degree developes, those views in regard to versification and diction, the mere revival of which has been thought a stroke of genius in our own times.

"There is no art delivered to mankind, that hath not the works of nature for its principal object, without which they could not exist, and on which they so depend, as they become actors and players, as it were, of what nature will have set forth. So doth He now proceeds to arrange poetry unthe astronomer look upon the stars, and by der various artificial divisions and subdivithat he seeth set down what order nature sions; showing, however, that they all do hath taken therein. So doth the geome- and must lead to the same great end, of bettrician and arithmetician, in their divers tering mankind by means of delighting sorts of quantities. So doth the musician, them. We shall not follow him minutely in tunes tell you which by nature agree, which not. The natural philosopher thereon hath his name, and the moral philosopher standeth upon the natural virtues, vices, or passions of man : And follow nature, saith he, therein, and you shall not err. The lawyer saith what men have determined. The historian, what men have done. The grammarian speaketh only of the rules of of poesy, is to contrast it somewhat circumspeech, and the rhetorician and logician, considering what in nature will soonest prove and persuade, thereon give artificial rules, which are still compassed within the circle of a question, according to the proposed matter. The physician weigheth the nature of man's body, and the nature of things hurtful or helpful to it. And the metaphysic, though it be in the second and abstract notions, and therefore be counted supernatural, yet doth he indeed build upon the depth of nature."

How extremely accurate are the thoughts, in all this; and with what felicitous simplicity are they expressed! Now mark the fine burst of enthusiasm by which the argument is applied and summed up.

The next step our author takes in his eloquent disquisition on the value and virtue

stantially with the other high sciences, and demonstrate its comparative superiority over them all. Those who only know Sir Philip Sidney as a chivalrous soldier, an inditer of extravagant verses, and a builder up of the most romantic romance that ever represented things and persons as they are not, will be surprised to observe the extraordinary accuracy of thought, as well as of feeling, which pervades all the definitions and descriptions that occur in this part of the Essay. Let the reader take the following as proofs, that acute penetration and thorough good sense are in no degree incompatible with the most fervid enthusiasm and the most lofty imagination.

"So that the ending of all earthly learn"Only the poet, disdaining to be tied to ing being virtuous action, those skills that any such subjection, lifted up with the vigour most serve to bring forth that, have a most of his own invention, doth grow, in effect, just title to be princes over all the rest; into another nature; in making things either wherein, if we can show it rightly, the poet better than nature bringeth forth, or quite is worthy to have it before any other comanew, forms such as never were in nature, petitors: among whom, principally to chalas the heroes, demigods, cyclops, chymeras, lenge it, step forth the moral philosophers; furies, and such like, so as he goeth hand in whom methinks I see coming towards me hand with nature, not enclosed within the with a sullen gravity, as though they could narrow warrant of her gifts, but freely rang- not abide vice by day-light: rudely clothing within the zodiac of his own wit. Na- ed, for to witness outwardly their contempt ture never set forth the earth in so rich of outward things; with books in their tapestry as divers poets have done; neither hands against glory, whereto they set their with so pleasant rivers, fruitful trees, sweet-names; sophistically speaking against sub

lety, and angry with a man in whom they delights, bewailing his absence from barren see the foul fault of anger." Again:

"The historian scarce gives leisure to the moralist to say so much, but that he, loaden with old mouse-eaten records, authorising himself for the most part upon other histories, whose greatest authorities are built upon the notable foundation of hearsayhaving much ado to accord differing writers, and to pick truth out of partiality; better acquainted with a thousand years ago than with the present age, and yet better knowing how this world goes than how his own wit runs; curious for antiquities, and inquisitive of novelties; a wonder to young folks, and a tyrant in table-talk-denieth, in a great chafe, that any man, for teaching of virtue and virtuous actions, is comparable to him."-"The philosopher, therefore, and the historian are they which would win the goal, the one by precept, the other by example; but both, not having both, do both halt. For the philosopher, sitting down with the thorny arguments, the bare rule is so hard of utterance, and so misty to be conceived, that one that hath no other guide but him shall wade in him until he be old, before he shall find sufficient cause to be honest. For this knowledge standeth so upon the abstract and general, that happy is that man who may understand him, and more happy that can apply what he doth understand. On the other side, the historian, wanting the precept, is so tied, not to what should be, but to what is-to the particular truth of things, and not the general reason of things-that his example draweth not necessary consequence, and therefore a less fruitful doctrine. Now doth the peerless poet perform both; for whatsoever the philosopher saith should be done, he giveth a perfect picture of it, by some one by whom he presupposeth it was done; so as he coupleth the general notion with the particular example. A perfect picture, I say -for he yieldeth to the powers of the mind an image of that whereof the philosopher bestoweth but a wordish description, which doth neither strike, pierce, nor possess the sight of the soul, so much as that other doth." "So, no doubt, the philosopher with his learned definitions, be it of virtues or vices, matters of public policy or private government, replenisheth the memory with many infallible grounds of wisdom, which, notwithstanding, lie dark before the imaginative and judging power, if they be not illuminated and figured forth by the speaking picture of poesy. Tully taketh much pains, and many times not without poetical helps, to make us know what force the love of our country hath in us: let us but hear old Anchises, speaking in the midst of Troy's flames; or see Ulysses, in the fulness of all Calypso's

and beggarly Ithaca! Anger, the Stoics
said, was a short madness; let but Sophocles
bring you Ajax on a stage, killing or whip-
ping sheep and oxen, thinking them the
army of the Greeks, with their chieftains
Agamemnon and Menelaus; and tell me if
you have not a more familiar insight into
anger than finding in the school-men its ge-
nus and difference?"

a similar kind, he adds:
After a multiplicity of other examples of

teacheth, but he teacheth obscurely, so as
"For conclusion, I say, the philosopher
the learned only can understand him; that
is to say, he teacheth them that are already
taught. But the poet is the food for tender
stomachs; the poet is indeed the right
popular philosopher."

Thus far our author has been comparing the poet's power of teaching with that of the philosopher. He next examines, in detail, the relative pretensions of the poet and the historian. One of his most powerful arguments in favor of the former's infinite superiority, is set down as follows:

of a foolish world, is many times a terror to "But history, being captived to the truth well doing, and an encouragement to unbridled wickedness. For see we not valiant Miltiades rot in his fetters? The just Phocion and the accomplished Socrates put to death like traitors? The cruel Severus living prosperously? Sylla and Marius dying in their beds? Pompey and Cicero slain then, when they would have thought exile a happiness? See we not virtuous Cato driven to kill himself, and rebel Cæsar so advanced, that his name yet, after sixteen hundred years, lasteth in the highest honour?"

comparisons, and added many more arguHaving gone through these particular ments, no less just than ingenious, in proof of his proposition, he now concludes this part of his subject by a general summary, from which we select the following admirable passages-which, for justness of thought, and curious felicity of expression, cannot well be surpassed.

"Now therein"-(that is to say, the power of at once teaching and enticing to do well)-" Now therein, of all sciences-I speak still of human and according to human conceit-is our poet the monarch. For he doth not only show the way, but giveth so sweet a prospect into the way, as will entice any man to enter into it. Nay, he doth as if your journey should lie through a fair vineyard, at the very first give you a cluster of grapes, that, full of that taste, you may long to pass further. He beginnet! not with obscure definitions, which mus blur the margent with interpretations, an load the memory with doubtfulness; but l

cometh to you with words set in delightful for triumphant captains, doth worthily, of proportion, either accompanied with, or pre-all other learnings, honour the poet's tripared for, the well-enchanting skill of mu- umph." sic; and with a tale, forsooth, he cometh

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He says, he has observed, of "that kind of people who seek a praise by dispraising others, that they do prodigally spend a great many wandering words in quips and scoffs, carping and taunting at each thing which, by stirring the spleen, may stay the brain from a thorough beholding the worthiness of the subject. These kind of objections, as they are full of a very idle easiness, since there is nothing of so sacred a majesty, but that an itching tongue may rub itself upon it, so deserve they no other answer but, instead of laughing at the jest, to laugh at the jester. We know a playing wit can praise the discretion of an ass, the comfortableness of being in debt, and the jolly commodities of being sick of the plague."-" Marry, these pleasant fault-finders, who will correct the verb before they understand the noun, and confute other's knowledge before they confirm their own, I would have them only remember that scoffing cometh not of wisdom: so as the best title, in true English, they get with their merriments is, to be called good fools; for so have our grave forefathers ever termed that humourous kind of jesture."

Our author now proceeds to state the obunto you with a tale, which holdeth children jections that have been made, or that may from play, and old men from the chimney-be, against his art-doing this, however, corner; and pretending no more, doth in- rather as a work of supererogation, than of tend the winning of the mind from wicked- necessity; but giving as a reason for it, ness to virtue, even as the child is often" because we have ears as well as tongues, brought to take most wholesome things, by and that the lightest reasons that may be, hiding them in such other as have a pleasant will seem to weigh greatly, if nothing be put taste."-"For even those hard-hearted evil in the counter-balance." Let our modern men, who think virtue a school-name, and critical wits-who pique themselves on the know no other good but indulgere genio, and pointedness of their pens, and pretend to therefore despise the austere admonitions of think that ridicule is the test not only of the philosopher, and feel not the inward rea- truth but of beauty also, hear what a real son they stand upon, yet will be content to wit says of them. It should seem by what be delighted which is all the good fellow follows, that their calling has not even novpoet seems to promise; and so steal to see elty in its favour, but was as rife three hunthe form of goodness-which seen, they can- dred years ago as it is now. not but love ere themselves be aware, as if they had taken a medicine of cherries.""By these, therefore, examples and reasons, I think it may be manifest that the poet, with that same hand of delight, doth draw the mind more effectually than any other art doth. And so a conclusion not unfitly ensues, that as virtue is the most excellent resting-place for all worldly learning to make an end of, so poetry, being the most familiar to teach it, and most princely to move towards it, in the most excellent work is the most excellent workman."-" Since, then, poetry is of all human learning the most antient, and of most fatherly antiquity, as from thence other learnings have taken their beginnings;-Since it is so universal that no learned nation doth despise it, no barbarous nation is without it ;-Since both Roman and Greek gave such divine names unto it, the one of prophesying, the other of making; and that, indeed, that name of making is fit for it, considering that whereas all other arts retain themselves within their subject, and receive, as it were, their being from it-the poet, only, bringeth his own stuff, and doth not learn a conceit out of the matter, but maketh matter for a conceit;-Since neither his description nor end containing any evil, the thing described cannot be evil;-Since his effects be so good as to teach goodness and delight the learners of it-Since therein (namely, in moral doc- "But what! shall the abuse of a thing trine, the chief of all knowledge) he doth make the right use odious? Nay, truly, not only far pass the historian, but, for in- though I yield that poesy may not only be structing, is well nigh comparable to the abused, but that, being abused, by the reaphilosopher, and for moving leaveth him be- son of its sweet charming force it can do hind-Since the Holy Scripture (wherein more hurt than any other army of words; yet there is no uncleanness) hath whole parts in shall it be so far from concluding that the it poetical, and that even our Saviour Christ abuse shall give reproach to the abused, vouchsafed to use the flowers of it ;—Since that, contrariwise, it is a good reason that all its kinds are not only in their united whatsover, being abused, doth most harm, forms, but in their severed dissections fully being rightly used (and upon the right use commendable :-I think-(and I think I each thing receives its title) doth most good. Think rightly)—the laurel crown appointed Do we not see skill in physic-the best ram

If the reader should find that some of the arguments in the following extracts do not come upon him with the force of novelty, he must recollect that this is any body's fault rather than Sir Philip Sidney's.

pire to our often assaulted bodies-being name of the nine muses, no more to scorn abused, turn poison-the most violent de- the sacred mysteries of poesy; no more to stroyer? Doth not knowledge of law-laugh at the name of poets, as though they whose end is to even and right all things were next inheritors to fools; no more to being abused, grow the crooked fosterer of jest at the reverend title of a rhymer; but horrible injuries? Doth not (to go to the to believe, with Aristotle, that they were highest) God's word abused breed heresy, the antient treasures of the Grecian's diand his name abused become blasphemy?-vinity; to believe, with Bembus, that they Truly, a needle cannot do much hurt; and were the first bringers in of all civility; as truly (with leave of ladies be it spoken) it to believe, with Scaliger, that no philosocannot do much good. But with a sword pher's precepts can sooner make you an thou mayest kill thy father, and with a sword honest man than the reading of Virgil; to thou mayest defend thy prince and country. believe, with Clauserus, the translator of So that, as in their calling poets the fathers Cornutus, that it pleased the Heavenly Deiof lies, they said nothing, so in this their ar-ty, by Hesiod and Homer, under the veil of gument of abuse they prove the commenda- fables, to give us all knowledge-logic, tion."

Si quid mea carmina possunt.

rhetoric, philosophy natural and moral, and There is great acuteness and precision in quid non ?—to believe, with me, that there the following remarks on laughter :- are many mysteries contained in poetry, "But our comedians think there is no de- which of purpose were written darkly, lest light without laughter; which is very wrong. of profane wits they should be abused; to For though laughter may come with delight, believe, with Landin, that they are so beyet cometh it not of delight, as though delight loved of the gods that whatsoever they write should be the cause of laughter. But well proceeds from a divine fury; lastly, to bemay one thing breed two together. Nay, in lieve themselves, when they tell you they themselves they have, as it were, a kind of will make you immortal by their verses.— contrariety; for delight we scarcely do, but Thus doing, your names shall flourish in in things that have a conveniency to our- printers' shops; thus doing, you shall be selves and to general nature; whereas a-kin to many a poetical preface; thus dolaughter almost ever cometh of things most ing, you shall be most fair, most rich, most disproportionate to ourselves and nature.-wise, most all; you shall dwell among suDelight hath a joy in it either permanent or perlatives :-thus doing, though you be libpresent; laughter hath only a scornful tick-ertino patre natus, you shall suddenly grow ling. For example, we are ravished with Herculea proles : delight to see a fair woman, and yet are far from being moved to laughter. We laugh Thus doing, your soul shall be placed with at deformed creatures, wherein, certainly, Dante's Beatrix, or Virgil's Anchises. we cannot delight. We delight in good "But if (fie of such a but!) you be born chances; we laugh at mischances. We so near the dull-making cataract of Nilus delight to hear the happiness of our friends that you cannot hear the planet-like music and country; at which he were worthy to of poetry; if you have so earth-creeping a be laughed at, that would laugh. We shall, mind that it cannot lift itself up to look to contrarily, sometimes laugh to find a matter the sky of poetry, or rather, by a certain quite mistaken, and go down the hill against rustical disdain, will become such a Mome the bias. In the mouth of some such men as to be a Momus to poetry; then, though I as, for the respect of them, one shall be will not wish unto you the ass's ears of Miheartily sorry, yet he cannot chuse but das, nor to be driven by a poet's verses, as laugh, and so is rather pained than delighted Bubonax was, to hang himself, nor to be with laughter." rhymed to death, as is said to be done in IreWe now pass at once to the concluding land: yet thus much curse I must lend you passage of this charming piece of writing; a in the behalf of all poets-that, while you conclusion that is in every way worthy of lacking skill of a sonnet; and when you what has preceded it: and a greater pane-live, you live in love, and never get favour for gyric on it cannot be pronounced. die, your memory die from the earth for "So that, since the ever-praise-worthy want of an epitaph." poesy is full of virtue, breeding delightfulness, and void of no gift that ought to be in On the evening of St. Bartholomew's, duthe noble name of learning; since the blames ring the massacre, a citizen of Paris, repulaid against it are either false or feeble; ted to be very rich, was closely pursued by since the cause why it is not esteemed in an assassin, sword in hand, to whom the citiEngland is the fault of poet-apes, not poets; zen kept crying-" Sir, sir, you are mistasince, lastly, our tongue is most fit to honour ken, I am really a true catholic."—" Possipoesy, and to be honoured by poesy; I con- bly," replied the other, at the same time pier"but your money jure you all, that have the evil luck to read cing him with his sword, this ink-wasting toy of mine, even in the is heretic."

THE PARTITION OF THE EARTH.

(From Schiller.)

When Jove had encircled our planet with light,
And had roll'd the proud orb on its way,
And had given the Moon to illume it by night,
And the broad sun to rule it by day;
The reign of its surface be form'd to agree
With the wisdom that govern'd its plan;
He divided the earth, and apportioned the sea,
And he gave the dominion to man.

The hunter he sped to the forest and wood,
And the husbandman seized on the plain;
The fisherman launch'd his canoe on the flood,
And the merchant embark'd on the main.
The mighty partition was finished at last,
When a figure came listlessly on;

But fearful and wild were the looks that he cast
When he found that the labour was done.

The mien of disorder, the wreath which he wore,
And the frenzy that flash'd from his eye,
And the lyre of ivory and gold which he bore,
Proclaim'd that the poet was nigh;

And he rush'd all in tears, at the fatal decree,
To the foot of the Thunderer's throne,
And complain'd that no spot of the earth or the sea
Had been given to the bard as his own.

And the Thunderer smiled at his prayer and his mien,
Though he mourn'd the request was too late;
And he ask'd in what regions the Poet had been,
When his lot was decided by fate.

O pardon my error, he humbly replied,
Which sprung from a vision too bright,
My soul at the moment was close by thy side,
Entranc'd in these regions of light.

It hung on thy visage, it bask'd in thy smile,
And it rode on thy glances of fire;

And forgive, if, bewilder'd and dazzled the while-
It forgot every earthly desire.

The earth, said the Godhead, is portion'd away,
And I cannot reverse the decree,

But the heavens are mine, and the regions of day-
And their portal is open to thee

LORD F. L. GOWER.

THE DEATH OF LEONIDAS.

It was the wild midnight

A storm was on the sky; The lightning gave its light, And the thunder echoed by.

The torrent swept the glen,

The ocean lash'd the shore;
Then rose the Spartan men,
To make their bed in gore.
Swift from the deluged ground
Three hundred took the shield;
Then, in silence, gather'd round
The Leader of the field.
He spoke no warrior-word,

He bade no trumpet blow;
But the signal-thunder roar'd,
And they rush'd upon the foe.

The fiery element

Show'd with one mighty gleam,
Rampart, and flag, and tent,
Like the spectres of a dream.

All up the mountain's side,
All down the woody vale,
All by the rolling tide

Waved the Persian banners pale.
And foremost from the pass,
Among the slumbering band,
Sprang King Leonidas,

Like the lightning's 1 ving brand.

Then double darkness fell,

And the forest ceased its moan: But there came a clash of steel, And a distant, dying groan. Anon, a trumpet blew,

And a fiery sheet burst high, That o'er the midnight threw A blood-red canopy.

A host glared on the hill;

A host glared by the bay;
But the Greeks rush'd onwards still,
Like leopards in their play.

The air was all a yell,

And the earth was all a flame, Where the Spartan's bloody steel On the silken turbans came. And still the Greek rush'd on Where the fiery torrent roll'd, Till, like a rising sun,

Shone Xerxes' tent of gold. They found a royal feast,

His midnight banquet, there; And the treasures of the East Lay beneath the Doric spear. Then sat to the repast

The bravest of the brave! That feast must be their last,

That spot must be their grave.

They pledged old Sparta's name
In cups of Syrian wine,

And the warrior's deathless fame
Was sung in strains divine.
They took the rose-wreath'd lyres
From eunuch and from slave,
And taught the languid wires

The sounds that Freedom gave.

But now the morning star

Crown'd Eta's twilight brow; And the Persian horn of war From hills began to blow.

Up rose the glorious rank,

To Greece one cup pour'd highThen, hand in hand, they drank "To immortality!"

Fear on King Xerxes fell,

When, like spirits from the tomb, With shout and trumpet-knell,

He saw the warriors come.

But down swept all his power,

With chariot and with charge;
Down pour'd the arrowy shower

Till sank the Dorian's targe.
They gather'd round the tent,
With all their strength unstrung;
To Greece one look they sent,

Then on high their torches flung.
Their king sat on the throne,
His captains by his side,
While the flame rush'd roaring on,
And their Pæan loud replied!

Thus fought the Greek of old!
Thus will he fight again!

Shall not the self-same mould

Bring forth the self-same men!-CROLY.

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