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SACKVILLE.

57

there are others who preceded and followed him, whom we shall class with him, occasionally infringing the rule of strict chronological order; for true poets are not of an age, but for all time. Thomas Sackville, Earl of Dorset (1536-1608), appears to have first introduced into England this allegorical writing. His great narrative poem, "The Mirrour for Magistrates," by which he seems to have meant a lesson to those that govern, is said to have been suggested by a Latin work of Boccaccio's, entitled, "The Fall of Princes," a translation of which, in verse, had been published some time before by Lydgate. The scene of the poem he lays in hell, as did Dante, and, under the guidance of Sorrow, beholds the sufferings and relates the history of the people placed there. This visionary style of poem will be found to crop up again and again as occasion demands it. Southey, when he wished to flatter the son, made an apotheosis of the dead George III., and called it the "Vision of Judgment;" in the close of which, with great force and abundantly fine imagery, he fairly sends the king to heaven. Byron, to ridicule Southey, has a "Vision of Judgment," too, abundantly profane-laughing, with the scepticism of Voltaire and the mockery of Tom Paine, at the belief in future reward and punishment. Thomas Cooper-a living poet, much neglected, but fully worthy to be mentioned with these-a learned, self-taught working man, of great genius, has written the "Purgatory of Suicides," in which he, with fine poetic imagery and splendid deciamation, and an amount of learning which shows the author's application and acquirements, illustrates the history of self-killers, from Judas Iscariot, and even before him, to Lord Castlereagh. To return to Sack

the highest boundary of poetry is fancy, then the lower and most permanent must be philosophical good sense. He who appreciates only one kind of poetry is imperfect. Let us do as did Charles Lamb-thank God for a catholic (universal) taste, which will let us ascend the highest scale, and yet run down to the lowest. All great poets have been able to do this. Shakespeare, as we know, could create such unknown beings as Puck, Caliban, the Witches, Ariel, and yet portray Dogberry, Verges, and Doll Tearsheet.

Shakespeare is the plainest, most direct, and simplest writer of all. He has more of the common sense of prose in his deepest poetry than any poet; and yet he well describes the "fine frenzy" in which the creations of those to whom the reader is now about to be introduced had birth. He says that at such times

The poet's eye, in a fine frenzy rolling,

Doth glance from heaven to earth, from earth to heaven;
And, as imagination bodies forth

The forms of things unknown, the poet's pen

Turns them to shapes, and gives to airy nothing
A local habitation and a name.

It is this creation of something just as tangible indeed as the names of history, that the imaginative poet claims as his highest performance. And in this he is something of the dramatist, for he forms an illusion or momentary belief in that which is utterly unreal; and thereby he satisfies the mind: for, as Hallam says, "the mind requires an objective possibility, a capacity for real existence, not only in all the separate portions of the imagined story, but in their relationship and coherency to the common whole."

Spenser is the great allegorical poet of England; but

SACKVILLE.

57

there are others who preceded and followed him, whom we shall class with him, occasionally infringing the rule of strict chronological order; for true poets are not of an age, but for all time. Thomas Sackville, Earl of Dorset (1536-1608), appears to have first introduced into England this allegorical writing. His great narrative poem, "The Mirrour for Magistrates," by which he seems to have meant a lesson to those that govern, is said to have been suggested by a Latin work of Boccaccio's, entitled, "The Fall of Princes," a translation of which, in verse, had been published some time before by Lydgate. The scene of the poem he lays in hell, as did Dante, and, under the guidance of Sorrow, beholds the sufferings and relates the history of the people placed there. This visionary style of poem will be found to crop up again and again as occasion demands it. Southey, when he wished to flatter the son, made an apotheosis of the dead George III., and called it the "Vision of Judgment;" in the close of which, with great force and abundantly fine imagery, he fairly sends the king to heaven. Byron, to ridicule Southey, has a "Vision of Judgment," too, abundantly profane-laughing, with the scepticism of Voltaire and the mockery of Tom Paine, at the belief in future reward and punishment. Thomas Cooper-a living poet, much neglected, but fully worthy to be mentioned with these-a learned, self-taught working man, of great genius, has written the "Purgatory of Suicides;" in which he, with fine poetic imagery and splendid declamation, and an amount of learning which shows the author's application and acquirements, illustrates the history of self-killers, from Judas Iscariot, and even before him, to Lord Castlereagh. To return to Sack

Upon his bare knees ought al his lyf
Thanken his God, that him hath sent a wif,
Or pray to God oon him for to sende
To be with him unto his lyves ende.
For than his lyf is set in sikernesse ;1
He may not be deceyved, as I gesse,
So that he worche after his wyfes red; 2
Than may he boldely bere up his heed,
Thay ben so trewe and also so wyse.
For whiche, if thou wolt do as the wyse,
Do alway so, as womman wol the rede...
A wif is keper of thin housbondrye:
Wel may the sike man wayle and wepe,
Ther as ther is no wyf the hous to kepe.
I warne the, if wisly thou wil wirche,

Love wel thy wyf, as Crist loveth his chirche;
If thou lovest thiself, thou lovest thy wyf.
No man hatith his fleissch, but in his lif
He fostrith it, and therfore warne I the
Cherissh thy wyf, or thou schalt never the
Housbond and wif, what so men jape or pleye,
Of worldly folk holden the righte weye;

Thay ben so knyt, ther may noon harm bytyde,
And nameliche upon the wyves side."

Here is the celebrated prayer with which Chaucer concludes his Canterbury Tales:-—

"Now pray I to yow alle that heren this litel tretis or reden it, that if ther be any thing in it that likes hem, that therof thay thanke oure Lord Jhesu Christ, of whom procedith alle wille and al goodnes; and if ther be eny thing that displesith hem, I pray hem that they arette it to the defaute of myn unconnyng, and not to my wille, that wolde fayn have sayd better if I hadde connyng; for the book saith, al that is writen for oure doctrine is writen. Wherfore I biseke yow mekely for the mercy of God that ye pray for me, that God have mercy on me and forgeve me my giltes, and nameliche my translaciouns and of endityng in worldly vanitees, whiche I revoke in my retracciouns, as is the 'Security. 2 Advice.

CHAUCER'S PRAYER.

49

book of Troyles, the book also of Fame, the book of twenty-five Ladies, the book of the Duchesses, the book of seint Valentines day, and of the Parliament of briddes, the Tales of Caunteirbury, alle thilke that sounen into synne, the book of the Leo, and many other bokes, if they were in mynde or remembraunce, and many a song and many a leccherous lay, of the which Crist for his grete mercy forgive me the synnes. But of the translacioun of Boce de consolacioun, and other bokes of consolacioun and of legend of lyves of seints, and Omelies, and moralitees, and devocioun, that thanke I oure Lord Jhesu Crist, and his moder, and alle the seintes in heven, bisekyng hem that thay fro hennysforth unto my lyves ende sende me grace to biwayle my gultes, and to studien to the savacioun of my soule, and graunte me grace and space of verray repentaunce penitence, confessioun, and satisfaccioun, to don in this present lif, thurgh the benigne grace of him that is king of kynges and prest of alle prestis, that bought us with his precious blood of his hert, so that I moote be oon of hem at the day of doom that schal be saved; qui cum Patre et Spiritu sancto vivis et regnas Deus per omnia secula. Amen."

And here is a quaint little address

TO HIS EMPTY PURSE.

To you, my purse, and to none other wight
Complaine I, for ye be my lady dere,

I am sorry now that ye be light,

For certes ye now make me heavy chere,
Me were as lefe laid upon a bere,

For which unto your mercie thus I crie,
Be heavie againe, or els mote I die.

Now vouchsafe this or it be night,
That I of you the blissful sowne may here,

E

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