DEAR LOVE! continue nice and chaste; I have enough to love thee long. Small favours will my prayers increase; Then, Love! prolong my suit-for thus, By losing sport, I sport do win ; And that doth virtue prove in us, Which ever yet hath been a sin! My coming near may spy some ill, SIR PHILIP SIDNEY. 1591. If confidence is to be placed in the unanimous suffrages of his contemporaries, Sir Philip Sidney was one of the most illustrious cavaliers that have adorned the annals of modern Europe; equally and eminently distinguished for the gracefulness of his deportment, the sweetness of his disposition, the valour of his spirit, the tenderness of his heart, the elegance, the solidity, and the extent of his mental qualifications and acquirements. It is not merely from a Spenser whom he patronized, or a Jonson whom he befriended, that he has derived this exemplary character. With the exception of one "trifler's sacrilegious hand," who latterly attempted to divest his bust of the laurel with which an admiring nation had fondly encircled his brows, the reputation of Sir Philip Sidney has been sacredly cherished by posterity. This heroic and accomplished man, the son of parents estimable for their worth, and descending from noble families, was born at Penshurst in Kent, November 29, 1554. He commenced his travels in 1572, having quitted the university of Oxford when seventeen years of age. Returning in 1575, he was employed on an embassy: in January 1582 he was knighted, and soon after promoted. About 1586, being engaged in foreign wars, he experienced much attention from Don John of Austria, who is known to have been cautious in bestowing his commendations; and he might have stood for the Crown of Poland, which he declined. Queen Elizabeth was accustomed to call him Her Philip, in contradistinction to Philip of Spain, who married her sister and predecessor; though, singular as it may seem, he had been christened in honour of the Spaniard, at the time he was betrothed to Queen Mary. Still emulous of distinction, he joined the campaign of 1586. Here he was unfortunately wounded, during the stand made against the Spaniards at Zutphen, by a musket shot, that broke the bone of his thigh, as he was mounting a third horse, after two had been killed under him. Being thirsty with excess of bleeding, he called for drink: as he was putting the bottle to his mouth, seeing a soldier carried along, whose ghastly eyes were directed eagerly towards it, Sir Philip took it from his own lips before he drank, and delivered it to the dying man with these words "Thy necessity is yet greater than Mine!" Having pledged this poor soldier, he was carried to Arnheim; where, after enduring intense bodily pain for the space of sixteen days, he expired on the 22d of September, 1586. His corpse was conveyed to London; and, after laying for some days in public state, was magnificently interred in the cathedral of St. Paul. He left one child, Elizabeth, by his wife, daughter of the great Sir Francis Walsingham. As to his STELLA, she undoubtedly was the Lady Rich. He describes her of a joyful face, fair skin, beamy eyes, golden haired, of a clear voice, but most fair, most cold; her heart fortified with wit, and stored with disdain! He who confesses himself once to have only ridiculed love in others, now felt it alınost insupportable if he was but a week absent from the desire of his soul. In the series of poems, entitled ASTROPHEL and STELLA, are some interesting descriptions of the intercourse that subsisted between the lovers. In a grove most rich of shade, Where birds wanton music made, May, then young, bis pied weeds showing, Did for mutual comfort meet. Sigh they did; but betwixt now, Sighs of woe, were glad sighs mix'd: But their tongues restrain'd from walking, Till their hearts had ended talking! ASTROPHEL. "Never season was more fit, "Never room more apt for it; "Smiling air allows my reason, "These birds sing- Now use the season "This small wind, which so sweet is, "Now he still! yet still, believe me, "Thy grief more than death would grieve me. "Trust me, while I thus deny, "In myself the smart I try : "Tyrant honour doth thus use thee; (Which too deep in me is framed!) "I should blush when thou art named!" Spenser, while enumerating the Court Beauties of his age, has neither forgotten Stella, nor the strains in which she was celebrated. On this occasion, as well as in the sonnet he addressed to the Countess of Pembroke, he bestows a merited encomium on the poetical talents of Sir Philip Sidney. His praise is the less suspicious, as the "noblest shepherd" was now no more! Nor less praise-worthy Stella do I read, Though nought my praises of her needed are, Hath prais'd; and rais'd above each other Star! While Sidney avowed his affection for Lady Rich, the sister of Essex, that nobleman appears to have been equally attached to the wife of Sidney, whom he married soon after the death of Sir Philip! The Earl of Essex was engaged in the battle of Zutphen, and witnessed the fate of his friend. SONNETS. BECAUSE I breathe not love to every one, And think so still, so STELLA know my mind. But you, fair maids, at length this truth shall find, That his right badge is worn but in the heart; Dumb Swans, not chattering Pies, do lovers prove; They love indeed, who quake to say they love! ALAS! have I not pain enough, my Friend! If that be sin, which doth the manners frame, Then love is sin, and let me sinful be! |