light which environeth worldly glorie, through which, for the clearenesse thereof, there is no vanitie which escapeth our sight. And let adversitie seeme what it will; to happy men ridiculous, who make themselves merry at other men's misfortunes; and to those under the crosse grievous; yet this is true, that for all that is past, to the very instant, the portions remaining are equal to either. For, be it that wee have lived many years, and, according to Solomon, 'in them all we have reioyced;' or, be it that wee have measured the same length of daies and therein have evermore sorrowed; yet, looking backe from our present being, we finde both the one and the other, to wit, the ioy and the woe,-sailed out of sight; and death, which doth pursue us and hold us in chace from our infancie hath gathered it. Whatsoever of our age is past, death holds it.' So as, whosoever hee be to whom fortune hath beene a servant, and the time a friend, let him but take the accompt of his memory (for wee have no other keeper of our pleasures past), and truly examine what it hath reserved, eyther of beauty and youth, or foregone delights; what it hath saved, that it might last, of his dearest affections, or of whatever else the amorous spring-time gaue his thoughts contentment, then vnualuable, and hee shall finde that all the art which his elder yeares have, can draw no other vapour out of these dissolutions than heavy, secret, and sad sighes. Hee shall finde nothing remaining but those sorrowes which grow up after our fast-springing youth, overtake it when it is at a stand, and overtop it utterly when it begins to wither: insomuch as, looking backe from the very instant time, and from our now being, the poore diseased, and captive creature hath as little sence of all his former miseries and paines, as he that is most blessed, in common opinion, hath of his forepast pleasures and delights. For whatsoever is cast behinde us, is just nothing; and what is to come, deceitful hope hath it. Only those few blacke swannes I must except who having had the grace to value worldly vanities at no more than their oune price doe, by retaining the comfortable memory of a well-acted life, and trusting in Christ, behold death without dread and the grave without feare, and embrace both as necessary guides to endless glory.

A

Preface to Raleigh's History, Lond., 1614.

"An allusion to an ancient proverb, ' As rare as a black swan.'

The Power of Death.-Close of Raleigh's History.

If wee seeke a reason of the succession and continuence of this boundlesse ambition in mortall men, we may adde to that which hath bin already said; that the kings and princes of the world have alwayes laid before them the actions, but not the ends of those great ones which præceded them. They are alwayes transported with the glorie of the one but they never minde the miserie of the other, till they find the experience in themselves. They neglect the advice of God, while they enjoy life, or hope; but they follow the counsell of Death, upon his first approach. It is he that puts into man all the wisdome of the worlde without speaking a word; which God with all the words of his law, promises or threats, doth not infuse. Death, which hateth and destroyeth man is beleeved; God, which hath made him and loves him, is always deferred. I have considered (says Salomon) all the workes that are under the sunne, and behold, all is vanitie and vexation of spirit; but who beleeves it till death tell it us? It was death which opening the conscienee of Charles the Fifth, made enjoyne his sonne Philip to restore Navarre: and King Francis the First of France to command that justice should be done upon the murderers of the Protestants in Merindol and Cabrières, which till then he neglected. It is therefore death alone that can suddenly make man to know himselfe. He tells the proud and insolent, that they are but abjects, and humbles them at the instant; makes them crie, complaine and repent, yea, even to hate their forepassed happinesse. He takes the account, of the riche and proues him a beggar-a naked beggar, which hath interest in nothing, but in the grauell that filles his mouth. He holds a glasse before the eyes of the most beautifull, and makes them see therein their deformitie and rottennesse; and they acknowledge it.

Oh eloquent, just, and mightie Death! whom none could advise, thou hast perswaded; what none hath dared, thou hast done; and whom all the world hath flattered, thou only hast cast out of the world and despised; thou hast drawne together all the farre-fetched greatnesse, all the pride, crueltie, and ambition of man, and couered it all ouer with these two narrow words Hic jucet. History, p. 776.

57. Edmund Spenser, 1553-1599. (Handbook, pars. 92,

102, 123.)

The most imaginative of our poets. The author of a new and enlarged structure of stanza,' ending with a majestic cadence.' His language is antique in style; but remarkably rich and beautiful.

Una♣ and the Lion.

One day, nigh wearie of the yrkesome way,
From her unhastie beast she did alight;
And on the grasse her dainty limbs did lay
In secrete shadow, far from all mens sight;
From her fayre head her fillet she undight,
And layd her stole aside: Her angels face,
As the great eye of heaven, shynèd bright,
And made a sunshine in the shady place;
Did ever mortall eye behold such heavenly grace?

It fortunéd, out of the thickest wood
A ramping lyon rushed suddeinly,
Hunting full greedy after salvage blood:
Soone as the royall Virgin he did spy,
With gaping mouth at her run greedely,
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 amazd, forgat his furious forse.

Instead thereof he kist her wearie feet,
And lickt her lilly hands with fawning tong;
As he her wrongèd innocence did weet.
O how can beauty maister the most strong,
And simple truth subdue avenging wrong!
Whose yielded pride and proud submissiòn,
Still dreading death, when she had marked long,
Her heart 'gan melt in great compassion;

And drizzling tears did shed for

Truth.

pure affection.

Faery Queen, book 1., canto 3.

The Ministry of Angels.

And is there care in Heaven? And is there love

In heavenly spirits to these creatures bace,
That may compassion of their evils move?
There is: else much more wretched were the cace
Of men then beasts: But O! th' exceeding grace
Of highest God, that loves his creatures so,
And all his workes 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 bowers leave
To come to succour us that succour want!
How oft doe they with golden pineons cleave
The flitting skyes, like flying pursuivant,
Against foule feendes to ayd us militant!
They for us fight, they watch and dewly ward,
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?
Faery Queen, book ii., canto 8.

The Seasons.

So forth issew'd the Seasons of the yeare;

b

First, lusty Spring all dight in leaves of flowres
That freshly budded and new bloomes did beare,
In which a thousand birds had built their bowres
That sweetly sung to call forth paramours;

And in his hand a iavelin he did beare,

And on his head (as fit for warlike stoures")
A guilt engraven morion he did weare;

That as some did him love, so others did him feare.

Then came the iolly Sommer, being dight
In a thin silken cassock colored greene,
That was unlyned all, to be more light:
And on his head a girlond well beseene

f

He wore, from which, as he had chauffed beer,
The sweat did drop; and in his hand he bore

Yielding.

Adorned, docked.

c Encounters.

d Gilded.

• Helmet.
f Chated, heated

A bowe and shaftes, as he in forrest greene

Had hunted late the libbard or the bore,

And now would bathe his limbes with labor heated sore.

Then came the Autunne all in yellow clad,

As though he ioyed in his plentious store,
Laden with fruits that made him laugh, full glad
That he had banisht hunger, which to-fore
Had by the belly oft him pinched sore:
Upon his head a wreath, that was enroid
With ears of corne of every sort, he bore;
And in his hande a sickle he did holde,

To reape the ripened fruits the which the earth had yold.⚫
Lastly came Winter cloathed all in frize,

Chattering his teeth for cold that did him chill; Whilst on his hoary beard his breath did freese, And the dull drops, that from his purpled bill As from a limbeck did adown distill: In his right hand a tipped staffe he held, With which his feeble steps he stayed still; For he was faint with cold, and weak with eld :* That scarce his loosed limbes he able was to weld. Faery Queer, book vii., canto 7.

Sonnet xxvi.

Sweet is the rose, but growes upon a brere;
Sweet is the juniper, but sharpe his bough;
Sweet is the eglantine, but pricketh nere,
Sweet is the firbloome, but his braunches rough;
Sweet is the cyprese, but his rynd is tough;
Sweet is the nut, but bitter is his pill;

Sweet is the broome flowre, but yet sowre enough;
And sweet is moly, but his root is ill;
So, every sweet, with soure is tempred still,

That maketh it be coveted the more:
For easie things that may be got at will
Most sorts of men doe set but little store.
Why then should I accompt of little paine
That endlesse pleasure shall unto me gaine!