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SIR THOMAS WYAT. SIR THOMAS WYAT was born in Allington Castle, Kent, A.D. 1503. He was educated at Cambridge. In spite of the rumour that he had been attached to Anne Boleyn, he was employed by Henry VIII. on important foreign missions, especially at the court of Spain; and distinguished himself by the ability with which he dis. charged the duties of an ambassador. He was, notwithstanding, committed to the Tower on his return, but acquitted on his trial; a fortunate circumstance in an age in which innocence afforded no security. Though engaged in a career of constant activity (he was at one time in command of a ship of war), Wyat found time for studies, which would have left yet more important results behind, had he not been cut off by a fever, at the age of thirty-eight, A.D. 1542. He was noted for the commanding beauty of his person.

ODE.
The Lover complaineth the unkindness of his Love.
My lute, awake! perform the last
Labour that thou and I shall waste,
And end that I have now begun;
For when this song is sung and past,
My lute be still, for I have done.
As to be heard where ear is none,
As lead to grave in marble stone,
My song may pierce her heart as soon :
Should we then sing, or sigh, or moan?
No, no, my lute! for I have done.
The rocks do not so cruelly
Repulse the waves continually,
As she my suit and affection;
So that I am past remedy;
Whereby my lute and I have done.
Proud of the spoil that thou hast got
Of simple hearts, thorough Love's shot,
By whom, unkind ! thou hast them won;
Think not he hath his bow forgot,
Although my lute and I have done.
Vengeance shall fall on thy disdain ;
That mak'st but game of earnest payne.
Think not alone under the sun,
Unquit the cause thy lovers plaine,
Although my lute and I have done.

May chance thee lye withred and old,
In winter nights that are so cold,
Playning in vain unto the moon;
Thy wishes then dare not be told :
Care then who list! for I have done.
And then may chaunce thee to repent
The time that thou hast lost and spent,
To cause thy lovers sigh and swoon:
Then shalt thou know beauty but lent,
And wish and want, as I have done.
Now cease, my lute! this is the last
Labour that thou and I shall waste,
And ended is that I begun:
Now is this song both sung and past:
My lute! be still, for I have done.

TO HIS MISTRESS. Forget not yet the tried intent Of such a truth as I have meant; My great travail so gladly spent, Forget not yet! Forget not yet when first began The weary life, ye know since whan, The suit, the service, none tell can; Forget not yet! Forget not yet the great assays, The cruel wrong, the scornful ways, The painful patience in delays, Forget not yet ! Forget not !-0, forget not this ! How long ago hath been, and is The mind that never meant amiss, Forget not yet! Forget not then thine own approved, The which so long hath thee so loved, Whose steadfast faith yet never moved, Forget not this !

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EARL OF SURREY.

HENRY HOWARD, Earl of Surrey, was the son of the third Duke of Norfolk. He was born, as is supposed, in the year 1516, and probably educated at Cambridge, as he was elected high-steward of that university. At the age of sixteen, Surrey was contracted in marriage to the Lady Frances Vere, daughter to the Earl of Oxford. Surrey was a warrior, as well as poet and courtier. He distinguished himself at the siege of Landrecy, and commanded, afterwards, at Guisnes and at Boulogne. He had previously served with his father in Scotland, and received the order of the Garter on his return. His splendid career was soon brought to a close. In the year 1546 Surrey was committed to the Tower, by the tyrant Henry VIII., on a groundless charge of high treason; one of the allegations in support of which was, that he bore the arms of Edward the Confessor. The Duke of Norfolk, imprisoned at the same time, was saved by the king's death; but his illustrious son was beheaded on Towerhill in the thirty-first year of his age. Surrey is said to have travelled in Italy; and many traces of Italian literature are to be found in his poetry. He wrote in the ternal metre of Dante, and introduced among us the sonnet form of composition. He was also the first English poet who wrote in blank verse. The works of Surrey and of Wyat were among the earliest to herald that second period of English poetry which, after an eclipse of a hundred and fifty years, fulfilled the promise of its dawn at the end of the fourteenth century.

A COMPLAINT BY NIGHT OF THE LOUER NOT BELOUED.
Alas, so all thinges now doe holde their peace,
Heaven and earth disturbed in no thing;
The beastes, the ayer, the birdes their songe doe cease,
The nightés chare the starres aboute doth bring;
Calme is the sea, the waues worke lesse and lesse :
So am not I, whom loue alas doth wring,
Bringing before my face the great encrease
Of my desires, wherat I wepe and sing,
In joy and wo, as in a doubtful case :
For my swete thoughtes sometime do pleasure bring;
But by and by the cause of my disease
Geves me a pang, that inwardly doth sting,

When that I thinke what grief it is againe,
To liue and lack the thing should rid my paine.

DESCRIPTION OF SPRING.
The soote' season, that bud and bloom forth brings,
With green hath clad the hill and eke the vale,
The nightingale with feathers new she sings ;
The turtle to her make’ hath told her tale.
Summer is come, for every spray now springs.
The hart hath hung his old head on the pale ;
The buck in brake his winter coat he flings;
The fishes fleet with new repaired scale ;
The adder all her slough away she flings;
The swift swallow pursueth the flies small;
The busy bee her honey now she mings;3
Winter is worn that was the flower's bale.
And thus I see among these pleasant things
Each care decays, and yet my sorrow springs.

LORD VAUX. LORD VAUX was the second Baron of that name. He was present at the coronation of Anne Bulleyn, on which occasion he was decorated with the order of the Bath. Little more is known of him, except that he was, at one time, a soldier, and commanded in the island of Jersey.

UPON HIS WHITE HAIRS.
[From the “ Aged Lover's Renunciation of Love."]
These hairs of age are messengers
Which bid me fast repent and pray;
They be of death the harbingers,
That doth prepare and dress the way :
Wherefore I joy that you may see
Upon my head such hairs to be.
They be the lines that lead the length
How far my race was for to run;
They say my youth is filed with strength,
And how old age is well begun;
The which I feel, and you may see
Such lines upon my head to be.
They be the strings of sober sound,

Whose music is harmonical;
I sweet. 2 mate. 3 mingles. • destruction,

Their tunes declare a time from ground
I came, and how thereto I shall :
Wherefore I love that you may see
Upon my head such hairs to be.

God grant to those that white hairs have,
No worse them take than I have meant ;
That after they be laid in grave,
Their souls may joy their lives well spent.
God grant likewise that you may see
Upon my head such hairs to be.

THOMAS SACKVILLE.

THOMAS SACKVILLE, Lord Buckurst, and Earl of Dorset, was born at Buckurst, in Sussex, A.D. 1527. He studied both at Oxford and Cambridge. He filled successively many of the highest posts in the state; one of which obliged him to take a part, as commissioner, in the judicial murder of Mary Queen of Scots. He died suddenly at the council-table in the year 1608. Sackville was one of our earliest tragic writers, and contributed a legend to the Mirror for Magistrates. He was as celebrated for his eloquence as for his political talents and literary accomplishments.

ALLEGORICAL PERSONAGES IN HELL.
And first within the porch and jaws of hell
Sat deep Remorse of Conscience, all besprent
With tears; and to herself oft would she tell
Her wretchedness, and cursing never stenta
To sob and sigh; but ever thus lament
With thoughtful care, as she that all in vain
Would wear and waste continually in pain.
Her eyes unstedfast, rolling here and there,
Whirl'd on each place, as place that vengeance brought;
So was her mind continually in fear,
Toss'd and tormented by the tedious thought
Of those detested crimes which she had wrought:
With dreadful cheer and looks thrown to the sky
Wishing for death; and yet she could not die.

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