j^ODi TODi^Mffii^ mmomuL /rfh Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2007 with funding from IViicrosoft Corporation http://www.archive.org/details/englishandbookofOOunderich A HAND-BOOK OF ENGLISH LITERATURE INTENDED FOR THE USE OF HIGH SCHOOLS, AS WELL AS A COMPANION AND GUIDE FOR PRIVATE STUDENTS, AND FOR GENERAL READERS. BY FRANCIS H. UNDERWOOD, A. M. British Authors. BOSTON: LEE AND S IfJp:?>A:H^'.Or^;^i 5 NEW YORK: CHARLES T. DILLINGHAM. 1888. Entered, according to Act of Con|?ress, in the year 1871, By lee and SHEPARD, In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. University Press: John Wilson & Son, Cambridge. XT A*'^ ,«'•■ Electrotyped at the Boston Stereotype Foundry, No. 19 Spring Lane. HENRY S WASHBURN, Esq, Rev. S. K. LOTHROP, D. D., Rev. C. C. SHACKFORD, LYMAN MASON, Esq, Dr. JOHN P. REYNOLDS. Hon. GEORGE H. MONROK MEMBERS OF THE SPECIAL COMMITTEE OF THE BOSTON SCHOOL BOARD ON THE HIGH SCHOOL EDUCATION OF BOYS, ibis moxk IS, WITH RESPECT AND AFFECTION, INSCRIBED. 4:2 9355 PREFACE The author of this work, having been appointed to pre- pare a course of reading in Enghsh Literature for the Latin School in Boston, was induced, after the adoption of the plan, to enlarge and perfect it, in order to supply an acknowledged want in popular education. It is not expected that this, or any compilation, no matter how full and exhaustive, will be sufficient for the thorough student. It is undoubtedly wise, as a rule, to insist upon studying authors in their complete works ; beyond question this is the only way to gain an adequate notion of an author's power and of his command of English ; and no one knows so well as the perplexed compiler how hard it is, if he would keep within the proper limits, to do any justice to the authors whose essays and poems he must mutilate, as mineralogists crack fossils or ^eodes^ for specimens. The writer well remembers the few and meagi'e collections of books in his native town. Excepting Scripture commen- taries, hymn books, and a few religious biographies, not always inviting to children of ardent temperament, the most fascinat- ing volumes accessible were '' RoUin's Ancient History " and " Riley's Narrative." It must be admitted, however, that " Thaddeus of Warsaw," and a few other contraband ro- mances, stowed away in the haymow for furtive reading at odd intervals on rainy days, furnished ideal pictures for the boyish imagination to dwell upon. It is with something like VI PREFACE. a pang that he reflects now, what a priceless treasure in those his best days even so imperfect a collection as this Hand-Book would have been. When the imperative wants of schools and the vast num- bers of youth without the means of literary culture, even of the most elementary sort, are considered, it must be allowed that a judicious compilation, with the necessary adjuncts, will be a public benefit. At all events it will be doing much, if by means of the Hand-Book the student is directed to the ampler sources from which he can derive amusement for his leisure hours, and acquires a habit that will illuminate and ennoble his whole life. The numerous reading books in use, though containing many of the best passages from the best authors, have been designed mainly to serve as exercises in elocution, and, when considered as aids to literary culture, are fragmentary and inadequate. But the Hand-Book does not aim at the completeness of an encyclopaedia ; the selections have been made for the most part from authors in whom scholars, through all the changes of literary fashion, have preserved a living interest. The author has not sought, like another Old Mortality^ to deepen and make legible anew the inscriptions which Time has surely begun to obliterate. In looking through the long list of authors once famous, the eye falls upon many that are now mere names ; and to continue making selections from the works of such is like lumbering a house with decrepit and useless furniture, to the exclusion of that which is taste- ful and adapted to modern wants. Still it is believed that nothing of real worth to the reader of to-day has been rejected on account of its antique garb ; the error is more likely to be in the other direction ; for, by the power of association, age gives all the racier flavor and the more enduring charm to any work of genius. An examination of the index will show, after due allowance is made for difl^er- ences of taste, that few, if any, authors have been omitted PREFACE. yil whom the concurring judgment of the literary world has pronounced classic. By exercising a careful discrimination as to the number of authors cited, it is possible to give far more liberal and satisfactory specimens from those whose preeminence is unquestioned. Above all, the Hand-Book is intended to be readable, to make the introduction to our noble literature attractive, and to show that works of acknowledged authority are none the less entertaining, even to the casual reader, from being models of style and treasuries of thought. The extracts are arranged in chronological order, so as to show the development of the language ; but it will be found convenient in schools, in the first reading, to follow an order similar to that marked out in the original plan for the Latin School, mentioned in the early pages of this volume : since few pupils would be able to contend with the diflSculties of obsolete phraseology and masculine thought at the outset. But when the selections are read a second time, it should be in the order in which they are printed. In regard to this order of reading just mentioned, it will be observed that a few works are prescribed which are not included in this volume. The reason will commend itself to all judicious teachers. While we must be content, in the majority of cases, to give only selections from an author, often too brief, there are some works that will not bear any division, but must be read entire, if at all. For instance, to give a single scene, or even an act, from one of Shakespeare's plays, would be merely tantalizing ; far better to omit alto- gether, unless a whole play could be presented. And any single play would be but a partial expression of his genius. It is strongly recommended that every High School should be furnished with a sufficient number of copies of Shakespeare to allow of a systematic reading of several of his plays ; also with Scott's " Lady of the Lake," and Goldsmith's '" Vicar of Wakefield." Vm PREFACE. A few other authors, of whom Pope, Cowper, Tennyson, and Macaulay may be cited as instances, deserve more atten- tion than the limits of the Hand-Book allow ; and the addi- tion of their works to the school library would be highly desirable. A condensed account of the growth of the language, and of the character and influence of its various elements, is presented, with which, it is hoped, aided by the exposition of the instructor, every pupil will become familiar. A biographical notice, brouglit by necessity into narrow limits, is prefixed to the specimens of each author. For explanatory notes which might often be of signal service, but would fatally cumber the book, the reader must be referred to the full editions in the libraries. Glossarial references, however, are printed upon the margin of the extracts from Chaucer and Burns, and in a few other instances. The translations of a few Latin quotations will be found in an appendix at the end of the volume. If students derive as much pleasure in reading over this collection as the author has enjoyed in preparing it, they will be amply repaid. The author acknowledges his indebtedness to Trench " On the Study of Words," Professor Scheie de Vere's *' Studies in English," White's " Words and their Uses," Marsh's " Lectures on the English Language," Chambers's '' Cyclo- paedia of English Literature," and Morley's "Tables of English Literature." He would also express his gi'atitude to Robert Carter, Esq., Editor of " Appleton's Journal," to George W. Minns, Esq., and other Masters of the Latin and English High Schools for valuable suggestions during the progress x)f this work, A second volume, containing extracts from the works of American authors, made on a somewhat more liberal scale, is nearly ready, and will be issued uniform in style with this. Boston, April 5, 1871. HISTORICAL INTRODUCTION. The language of a nation, like the prevailing features, stature, and other traits of the people, is a part of its history, and its elements are derived from the speech of older races which have combined to form the new type. Most of the existing languages of Europe are composite, and each one corresponds in close analogy to the union of the races or tribes whose blended traits have become the charac- teristics of the modern nation. Our inquiries will not go back farther than the Christian era ; to trace the origin of words back to the Sanskrit through Asiatic colo- nization is a matter of great difficulty and uncertainty, and does not belong to a treatise so elementary as this. That the Latin and Greek languages appear to us as mainly original and uncompounded is due to the fact that the migrations that took place while these tongues were forming were prior to any authentic history. After the fall of the Roman empire, when each European tribe was left to establish its own government, their several original languages, more or less impregnated by the Latin of their former masters, be- gan to receive their natural and diverse development. The laws and customs of each people, their cultivation of the arts of war or peace, their agricultural or maritime pursuits, their fertile plains or mountain fastnesses, their easy obedience to rulers or their fierce contests for independence, their local attachments or their roving, marauding disposition, — all these native tendencies and social and political influences were soon evident as well in their speech as in their character. And, if we did not know the speech of a single ix X HISTORICAL INTRODUCTION. modern European nation, we could, upon the basis of its original stock of words, with a knowledge of its wars offensive and defen- sive, its migrations and governmental changes, its wealth, customs, and general cultivation, predict with a good degree of certainty the prevaihng character of its language and literature. French, Spanish, and Italian are but three slightly- varying corrup- tions of Latin. The last is nearest to its original, with only slight additions by the barbarian conquerors of Italy. French, which is in one sense only a lingo^ is for the most part only Latin debased by old Gallic and later Norman pronunciation. Spanish is the same noble tongue corrupted by an admixture of Arabic and by the indistinct articulation that prevails among the indolent dwellers in hot climates. People using northern languages, that bristle with sharp consonants and are choked with guttural sounds, would never have rolled " Caesar Augustus " under lazy tongues until it came out limp and helpless as " Saragossa." For our present purpose we need not go back farther than the in- vasion of Britain by the Romans ; for subsequent poHtical events neutralized and finally destroyed the influence of the Picts and Celts, and penned up in Wales or drove to the coast of Cornwall nearly all that remains of the original British tongue. The Roman occu- pation, though it covered a long period, does not appear to have made a very deep or lasting impression upon the customs or the language of the aborigines. The remains of their roads, their camps {castra), and vestiges of their law can still be seen ; but in our language the only trace of the first is in the name for distance, mile, and in compounds of stratum^ as in Stratford; the second lives in the terminations cester and caster, and in the abridged form of coionia, as in Lincoln; and the last is represented by debt — a word that many a poor Briton probably learned to his cost in the courts. This, of course, is not intended as an exact statement ; very many Latin words were probably used before the Romans abandoned the island which were afterwards forgotten during the long domination of other races. It is accurate enough to say that the Latin elements of our language did not come in through the HISTORICAL INTRODUCTION. Xl conquest, but have been introduced through the French, or have been transferred by scholars and naturalized by use. A history of the invasions of the next following centuries is a history of the foundation of the language. It will not be necessary, even if it were possible, to give more than the most general account of these movements ; for piratical excursions were as frequent then as rural picnics are now, and every sailor considered getting booty to be the original purpose and chief end of navigation. As has been already stated, the primitive British or Celtic element Was driven out, and it cannot be proved that any part of its vocabulary remains, except in the Erse or Irish, Gaehc or Highland Scotch, and Cymric or Welsh, branches (if they are branches) of the old Celtic speech. A large proportion of the invasions came from the islands and coasts of the North Sea and the Baltic. In Fries- land, where the ancient language has not been wholly supplanted by the modern Dutch, the English-speaking traveller understands many simple phrases, and has but little difficulty in making his wants known. But whatever were the relative proportions of the Danes, •Jutes, Angles, Frisians, and Saxons that occupied the British Is- lands, the warring elements were after a time composed under the •ru4e of Saxon kings, the whole population was converted to Chris- tianity, and their diiferent dialects blended into Anglo-Saxon. The Danish invasions for the next century (787-878) were carried on by veritable heathens, worshippers of Woden and Thor, who butchered women and children as well as men, and who endeavored to destroy every church and every vestige of religion. It was one of the turn- ing-points in England's history, therefore, when Saxon Alfred de- feated these barbarians, and became, as it were, the schoolmaster as well as protector of kis ignorant and long-suffering people. But many Danes had become permanent settlers, and a large portion of the eastern shore was set off for their occupancy and exempted from the jurisdiction of the Saxons. In time there were fresh arrivals of Scandinavians, ever increasing in numbers and in ferocity, until at last the land was overwhelmed, and a Danish king ruled over England. XU HISTORICAL INTRODUCTION. Before this period swarms from the same "northern hive" had crossed the Straits of Dover, and descended upon the shores ot France ; and, although they had given up their own rude speech and adopted that of their vassals, they retained their connections with their kindred in the north and in England, and gave a new power and significance to the name of Norman. Intermarriages took place between the ruHng families, and some of the refining influences of the more cultured South began to be felt among the sons of the Vikings. The natural effect of Norman rule upon language was in a measure anticipated. Before Duke Robert's son had thought of invading England, Norman-French was regarded as a polite and desirable language at the court of the Danish king. It is also proper to add that, as the whole island had been for a long period under Christian influences, the Latin liturgy of the church and the influence of the priests had made many Latin words and phrases familiar to those whose only speech was Anglo-Saxon. To this period are to be referred the corruption of monachus into ^' monk," claustra into " cloister," /r^j-/^j/^r into "priest," kuriakon (belong- ing to the Lord, 6 Kiqiog,) into " church," episcopus into " bishop," and also the profane rendering of the phrase used in the consecration of the wafer. Hoc est corpus, into the popular mummery over a sleight-of-hand performance, " hocus-pocus." The Norman conquest produced a mighty effect. The whole island, except in a few remote districts, had a common language, and similar laws and customs. These were at once rudely over- thrown. The language of court and camp was ordained to be Nor- man-French. The dignities and great estates of the realm were allotted on feudal principles by the conqueror among his military chiefs. All that a powerful government could do for three hundred years was done to extirpate the Anglo-Saxon, the language of the common people ; but it was as firmly based as the island itself, and the Normans at the most could only complement its homely vocab- ulary with the emblems of their higher culture and more stately manners. The memory of Norman rule is still preserved in the terms of the royal assent to acts of Parliament, and in many phrases HISTORICAL INTRODUCTION. Xlll and usages in the law courts. An enduring record of the conquest is seen in the language, in which the harmonized Norman and Anglo-Saxon elements exhibit the results of the long conflict of opinions, customs, letters, and laws. The fusion of Norman and Anglo-Saxon was very slowly accom- plished. For four centuries at Jeast there was one language for the nobleman and gentleman, and another for the common people. The currents of thought and expression had come together, forced into the same channel, but, like the waters of the Mississippi and the Missouri, they refused to mingle, and showed their diverse sources far below the point of union. In the end there was a tacit com- promise. The facts of every-day life, the names of the heavenly bodies, the elements, the family relations, the house and home, domestic animals, crops, and tools of husbandry, the various modes of motion, simple articles of food and raiment, were all known by Anglo-Saxon names. But terms that belong to government, to the privileges of high birth, to the usages of courts, to the dress and equipment of knights and dames, to tournaments, crusades, and pilgrimages, to letters and art, were all of Norman origin. Two paragraphs, the first wholly composed of Anglo-Saxon words, and the second of mostly Norman-French origin, will serve to illustrate the statement. So the man (boor, or churl, as he was called by those above him) wedded a maid, and she became his wife (weaver), and bore him sons and daughters (milkers). They ate bread from corn grown in their lord's field ; they cared for his swine, sheep, horses, hens, deer, and oxen, and were used to the axe, plough, flail, and sickle, as well as to rain, wind, hail, and snow. Their clothes, shoes, and hats were coarse, and their looks downcast. The moon and stars often found them at work. Their beds were of straw, and they rose from sleep before the sun to begin toil anew. When the goodman was near his end, and the skill of the leech was worthless, neighbors with friendly hands softly shut his dying eyes, then wrapped the dead body in a shroud, put him upon a bier, and buried him in a nameless grave in God's acre. XIV HISTORICAL INTRODUCTION. And the noble, nourished in the mansion or castle of his ances- tors, trained from infancy to feats of arms, aspiring to a station among the chivalry of the realm, appeared in gay apparel at the court of his sovereign, and joyously received the royal command to battle against his liege's enemies. He is feasted at a sumptuous table, covered with poultry, veal, mutton, pork, beef, and venison. He quaffs delicate wine from an ornate goblet, and with graceful courtesy returns the monarch's salutation. The favor of stately and beautiful dames encourages him. In the campaign he is dis- tinguished by his valor, but his career is finally closed by the lance of an adversary. A coffin now encloses his corpse ; it is carried in a hearse to the cemetery, placed in the family tomb, and a marble monument or mural tablet commemorates his virtues. It will be noticed that, while the former paragraph is wholly Anglo- Saxon, the latter is Norman only in part. Articles, pronouns, con- junctions, prepositions, the forms of the neuter verb to be and auxiliaries, and some adverbs must be drawn from the elder source ; and this is sufficient to show that the basis of the language is Anglo- Saxon. The Norman- French element was a valuable addition, but it in nowise supplanted the original stock, and cannot be used by itself to form a single sentence. We have now to consider the reciprocal influences of these two sources upon spelling and pronunciation. Before the general use of printing, orthography was but little regarded. The forms of words were generally expressed phonetically ; and in passing, it may be observed, that in reading Chaucer, if a word looks puzzling, the sense will often come to mind by pronouncing it aloud and looking away. In time, the general license was much restricted, and now each word has its integrity guaranteed. But during the transition state the clerk or poet spelled as it seemed right in his own eyes. The hardening into unchangeable forms came while the elements were mixed confusedly, and the result was like freezing over a river-basin covered with heaped-up fragments of floating ice. Nearly all the Latin words had lost something of their form. The HISTORICAL INTRODUCTION. Xt pestilent u was inserted in honor, favor, error, and in countless analogous cases. The simple directness of Saxon spelling was lost. The word tongue will serve as an instance. Doubtless the pronun- ciation of this word has never undergone the least change ; but our Saxon ancestors spelled it tung, just as it is sounded. Later it had a final e, and at length, after Norman scribes had bewitched it, \\ appeared as we now see it. A twist was given to every word capa- ble of variation. On the other hand, the same influences softened the harshness of Saxon gutturals, so that the silent letters '\n fought^ sought, and the like are now only mute evidences of a barbarous utterance heard no more. In due time the English people had their revenge upon the Nor- man element, especially in the obliteration of the original accent of words derived through that medium. The appellatives remain, but with anglicized spelling and accent ; so that the unskilled reader hardly recognizes the concluding word of the line, — And bathed every vein in swiche licour', as his homdy acquaintance " liquor." Mange survived as vulgar " munch ; " the servant valet as the rascal " varlet ; " cceur mechant as the crabbed " curmudgeon ; " and quelques choses were contemp- tuously termed "kickshaws." Every scholar will be able to add many similar examples. To recapitulate, we find in our language, — 1. A complete groundwork of Anglo-Saxon; no other element complete. 2. An influx of words derived from Latin directly or through the French, mostly mangled by vicious spelling, and by the loss of original accent. 3. A change in the spelling of many Saxon words and a soften- ing of original roughness in pronunciation. 4. A coalescing of the conflicting elements after centuries of resisCance, and continual additions from classic languages. The difference between the English of to-day and that of five or six centuries ago is so great that many persons are led to believe XVi HISTORICAL INTRODUCTION. that there may have been an epoch of sudden change — a catas- trophe like those which we were once told had hai^pened to the earth in its development ; but, as enlightened science assures us that the forces at work upon the crust of our planet are as active in the present g.s in the remotest geological eras, so it seems likely that our language is undergoing changes in the number, power, and significance of its words, as great and as decisive as were experi- enced in any part of its history. He who stands by a glacier for the first time regards the mass of glittering ice as immovable, as eternal as the mountain it buttresses. But the patient observer knows that the huge volume of ice is in motion, and that ages hence the grinding of the rocks and the furrowing of the soil underneatli will bear witness to its slow but resistless course. Such deep scratches and furrows are seen in every part of our literary history. Our poetry, our science, our sermons, even our familiar talk, show the mark' Progress." Sir John Suckling. Poet 1609-1641 Henry Vaughan Poet 1614-1695 Sir John Denham Poet • 1615-1668 Richard Baxter Preacher and Religious Essayist. . . . 1615-1691 Richard Crashaw Poet i6r6-i6so Dr. Ralph Cudworth Metaphysician 1617-1688 William Chamberlayne Poet 1619-1689 Walter Charleton Philosopher and Essayist 1619-1707 John Evelyn Diarist 1620-1706 Robert Boyle Nat. Philosopher and Rel. Essayist. . 1628-1691 Joh I Bunyan Author of The Pilgrim's Progress. . . 1628-1688 Sir William Temple Essayist 1628-1698 George Saville, Marquis of Halifax. . . Political Writer 1630-1695 Charles Cotton Poet 1630-1687 John Tillotson, Abp Theologian 1630-1694 John Locke Philosopher 1632-1704 Samuel Pepys. . . . " Diarist 1632-1703 Dr. Robert South Theologian 1633-1 716 Wentworth Dillon, Earl of Roscommon. Poet 1634-1685 Edward Stillingfleet, Bp Theologian 1635-1699 Lady Rachel Russell Author of Letters 1636-1723 HISTORICAL INTRODUCTION. XXIX Sir Charles Sedley Poet 1639-1701 William Wycherley Dramatist 1640-1715 Sir Isaac Newton Philosopher 1642-1727 John Strype Antiquarian and Historian 1643-1737 Gilbert Burnet Historian 1643-1715 John Wilmot, Earl of Rochester. . . . Poet 1647-1680 Thomas Otway Dramatist 1651-1685 Andrew Fletcher of Saltoun Political Writer 1653-1716 William Cleland Poet 1661-1689 Richard Bentley Classical Scholar 1662-1742 Dr. John Arbuthnot Satirist 1667-1735 William Congreve Dramatist 1669-1729 B2rnard Mandeville ■ Satirical Essayist 1670-1733 Anthony A. Cooper, Earl of Shaftesbury. Metaphysician 1671-1713 Nicholas Rowe Dramatist 1673-1718 Dr. Isaac Watts Author of Hymns 1674-1748 Dr. Samuel Clarke Metaphysician and Divine 1675-1729 Ambrose Phillips Poet and Essayist 1675-1749 John Hughes Essayist 1677-1720 George Farquhar. Dramatist 1678-1708 Thomas Pamell Poet 1679-1718 Dr. Edward Young Poet 1681-1765 Dr. George Berkeley, Bp Metaphysician 1684-1753 Eustace Budgell Essayist 1685-1737 Allan Ramsay Poet 1686-1758 Thomas Tickell Ess:iyist 1686-1740 IV. From Pope to Wordsworth. This period is in many respects one of the most important in our literary history. In the essays of Addison and Steele, the novels of Fielding and Smollett, and the verse of Pope, Gray, Goldsmith, and Cowper, the language attained to such a degree of refinement that the grace and ease of the Spectator, the natural pathos of the Deserted Village, and the polish of the Rape of the Lock, have become proverbial. To equal these productions in style at our day ' is like attempting to copy the perfect symmetry of the( Parthenon.], - In the same age we have the sententious wisdom of Johnson, the luminous commentaries of Blackstone, the bold forgeries or the impressive imitations of Gaelic poetry by Macpherson, the mag- nificent oratory of Burke, Pitt, and Fox, the clever comedies of Colman and Goldsmith, — that would seem brilHant but for the blazing lustre of Sheridan's wit, — the profound studies of Adam Smith, and the gorgeous Oriental dreams of Beckford.: Tx/,'}"' ^- Two poets, now nearly forgotten, deserve mention. John Dyer XXX HISTORICAL INTRODUCTION. seems to have been one of the eariiest of what may be termed land- scape poets. *' Grongar Hill " may fairly challenge comparison with many more famous pictures. His chief poem, " The Fleece," was founded upon a prosaic subject ; since Jason's adventure wool has hardly been a theme for serious verse. The other is Dr. John Langhorne, in whose poem, "The Country Justice," occur these lines of pity for a female vagrant : — "Cold on Canadian hills or Minden's plain, Perhaps that parent mourned her soldier slain, Bent o'er her babe, her eye dissolved in dew ; The big drops, mingling with the milk he drew, Gave the sad presage of his future years. The child of misery, baptized in tears." Sir Walter Scott has mentioned that when a lad of fifteen he saw Burns shedding tears over a picture that represented this scene. For further illustrations the reader must be referred to the ap- pended Hst, and to the ampler materials in the body of the collection. Samuel Richardson Novelist 1689-1771 William Lillo Dramatist 1693-1739 P. D. Stanhope, Earl of Chesterfield. . Author of Letters to his Son 1674-1773 Henry Home, Lord Kames Rhetorician 1696-1782 WilHam Oldys Antiquarian 1696-1761 John Dyer Poet 1698-1758 William Warburton, Bp Theologian 1698-1779 Robert Blair Poet 1699-1746 Dr. Philip Doddridge Commentator and Divine 1702-1 751 William Pitt, Earl of Chatham Orator 1708-1778 Thomas Reid Metaphysician 1710-1796 William Shenstone Poet 1714-1763 Dr. Hugh Blair Rhetorician 1718-1800 James Merrick Poet 1720-1766 Tobias George Smollett Novelist 1721-1 771 Mark Akenside Poet 1721-1770 Samuel Foote • ... Dramatist 1721-1777 Joseph Warton Poet and Critic 1722-1800 John Home Dramatist 1722-1808 Dr. Adam Smith Political Economist 1 723-1 790 Sir William Blackstone Historian of Law 1723-17S0 Thomas Warton Historian of English Poetry 1728-1790 Dr. Thomas Percy Poet and Collector of Ballads 1728-1811 Dr. Erasmus Darviin Poet 1731-1802 William Falconer, Poet 1732-1769 Dr. Joseph Priestley. Divine and Natural Philosopher. . . . 1 733-1804 HISTORICAL INTRODUCTION. XXXI WaHam J. Mickle Poet 1734-1788 Dr. John Langhorne Poet i73S-i779 John Home Tooke Philologist 1 736-1812 Dr. Richard Watson » . Divine 1737-1816 James Macpherson .... Author or Translator of Ossian 1738-1796 Dr. John Wolcot, " Peter Pindar." . . Satirical Poet 1738-1819 Sir John Herschel Astronomer 1738-1822 Mrs. Hester L. Thrale. ....... Author of Biog. Notes of Johnson, &c. 1740-1822 James Boswell Biographer 1740-1795 Anna Letitia Barbauld Poetess 1743-1825 Dr. William Paley Theologian, &c 1744-1805 William Mitford Historian 1744-1827 Thomas Holcroft Dramatist. 1745-1809 Henry Mackenzie Novelist 1745-1831 Hannah More Author of Religious Tales, &c. . . . 1745-1833 Sir William Jones Oriental Scholar 1746-1794 Michael Bruce Poet 1746-1767 William Coxe Historian 1747-1828 Jeremy Bentham Political Economist 1748-1832 Charles James Fox Orator 1749-1806 Sophia Lee Novelist 1750-1824 Richard Brinsley Sheridan Orator and Dramatist 1751-1816 Thomas Chatterton Poet 1752-1770 Frances Burney, Mme D'Arblay- . . . Novelist 1752-1840 Dr. Dugald Stewart Metaphysician 1753-1828 William Roscoe Historian of Florence, &c 1753-1831 Rev. George Crabbe Poet 1754-1832 William Godwin Novelist and Political Essayist 1756-1836 W illiam Beckford Author of Vathek 1759-1844 William Wilberforce .... Philanthropist 1 759-1833 Dr. Adam Clarke Divine and Commentator. 1760-1832 John Mayne Poet 1761-1836 George Colman Dramatist 1762-1836 Rev. William Lisle Bowles Poet 1762-1850 William Cobbett Political Writer 1762-1835 Sir Edgerton Brydges Editor of Milton, «fec 1762-1837 Joanna Baillie Dramatist 1762-1851 Samuel Rogers Poet 1763-1855 Mrs. Anne Ward Radcliffe Romancer 1764-1823 Maria Edgeworth • • • Novelist 1765-1849 Sir James Mackintosh Historian 1765-1832 Rev. James Grahame . Poet 1 765-1811 Harriet Lee Novelist 1766-1851 Carolina Oliphant, Lady Nairn Song Writer 1766-1845 Robert Bloomfield Poet 1766-182^ Rev. Thos. Robert Malthas Political Economist 1766-1836 Isaac Disraeli Collector of Literary Miscellany. . . . 1 766-1848 Sharon Turner Historian 1768-1847 "Junius," Letters of, . . ....... Appeared in 1769 er/j^'^. Amelia Opie Author of Moral Tales, &c 1769-1853 Robert Pultocke Author of "Peter Wilkins." No ( XXXU HISTORICAL INTRODUCTION. V. From Wordsworth to Tennyson. As we approach nearer to our own flay, the number of authors demanding our attention seems to increase. It is no longer a rare accomplishment to write with a certain degree of correctness and elegance. The subjects in which the reading world takes an inter- est have multiplied, until now every art and science has its own literature and school of criticism. No one can now say with Lord Bacon, " I have taken all knowledge to be my province ; " the literary world, like a scientific convention, is divided into " sections," and happy is he who is familiar with any considerable part of the field of modern thought. Compare the London of Addison's time with the London of to-day. The Spectator's daily essay was almost the only intellectual entertainment for all educated people ; a glance into the monthly summary of books and other publications in Mr. Murray's " Academy " will show how vast and varied is that enter- tainment now. And this leads us to remark that mere style is no longer the only criterion in determining the rank to be given a work considered as a part of our literature. The most perfect description of an engine or of a chemical process would be excluded by the nature of the subject, unless it were written by a poet or by a man of great imaginative power, and so lifted out of the class of merely technical treatises. The same would be true of any special essay upon a theological or philosophical topic. So, without using the term " literature " as precisely equivalent to belles-lettres, we must recognize in it a hmitation to moral and beautiful ideas and sugges- tions — a hmitation not capable of definite boundaries, but easily felt by all persons of taste. This thought will serve to explain the omission of such learned and powerful writers as Sir William Hamil- ton, John Locke, Herbert Spencer, Mill, and Darwin. There is room for a few comments only upon the authors in the following list. In fiction we should mention the brilliant Eastern romance, " An- astasius," by Thomas Hope, and the equally interesting stories of Persian life by James Morier. Probably a more accurate knowledge HISTORICAL INTRODUCTION. XXXlll of Persian character and manners can be gained from " Hadji Baba " than from any other accessible source. The novels of Miss Jane Austen had a great and deserved popularity ; and though younger readers consider them a trifle dull, they are still read with delight by those persons of maturer years who are not infected by the prevail- ing hurry of our times. The establishment of the leading reviews was a great event, and did much to put criticism upon a higher base, and to give form and weight to the best thought upon current literary topics. A few poets deserve honorable mention. The graceful and tender verses of Mrs. Hemans ; the stirring ballads of Lockhart ; the natural feeling of Motherwell ; Ihe rollicking songs of Maginn, first and greatest of " Bohemians ; " the funeral drum-beat of Wolfe, immortal from his one poem ; and the striking picture of the desert by Pringle, — " With the silent Bush-boy alone by his side, '* — all have strong claims upon us, and would be considered as worthy of a place with the best, if a single volume could contain them all. We can point, too, to Grote, the historian of Greece ; to Hugh Miller, most enthusiastic and individual of geologists ; to the learned and abk philologist. Dean Trench ; to the historical studies of Dr. Arnold, th^ great master of Rugby ; to the powerful sermons of Dr. Chalmers, the metaphysics of Hamilton, the wit of Jerrold, and the drolleries of a Becket. John Tobin Dramatist 1770-1804 James Hogg, the *' Ettrick Shepherd." Poet 1770-1835 Mrs. Amelia Opie Novelist 1770-1853 George Canning Poet 1770-1823 Rev. John Foster Essayist 1770-1843 Thomas Hope Author of " Anastasius. " 1772-1831 David Ricardo Political Economist 1772-1823 Rev. H. F. Gary Translator of Dante 1772-1844 Mrs. Mary Tighe ,. . . . Poetess 1773-1810 James Mill Logician and Political Economist. . . . 1773-1836 Robert Tannahill Poet 1774-1810 John Leyden Poet 1775-1811 Jane Austen Novelist 1775-1817 Matthew G. Lewis Dramatist 1775-1818 Sir Alexander Boswell Song Writer. 1775-1822 Jane Porter Novelist 1776-1850 C XXXiv HISTORICAL INTRODUCTION. Sir Humphry Davy Natural. Philosopher 1778-18*9 Dr. Thomas Brown Metaphysician 1778-1820 Mrs. Frances Trollope Novelist and Traveller 1 778-1863 Henry Hallam Historian. . . • 1778-1851 Rev. Thomas Moss Poet -1808 Rev. George Cro!y Dramatist 1780-1860 Anna Maria Porter Novelist 1780-1832 James Morier. Stories of Persian Life 1 780-1849 John Wilson Croker Critic 1780-1857 Ebenezer Elliott Poet 1781-1849 Sir David Brewster Scientific Writer. 1 781-1868 Dr. Reginald Heber Poet 1783-1826 Allan Cunningham Poet 1784-1842 James Sheridan Knowles Dramatist 1784- Henry K. White Poet 1785-1806 Sir W. F. P. Napier Historian of Peninsular War 1785-1860 Dr. Richard Whately, Abp Logician and Divine 1 787-1863 Caroline Anne (Bowles) Southey. . . . Poetess 1787-1854 Thomas Piingle Poet 1788-1834 Sir William Hamilton Metaphysician 1788-1836 Theodore E. Hook Novelist and Humorous Poet 1788-1842 Rev. H. Barham. . . . « Author of Comic Tales in Verse. . . . 1788-1845 George Combe. - Physiologist and Philosopher 1788-1858 Sir Francis Palgrave. Historian 1788-1860 Mary Russell Mitford Novelist 1789-1855 Isaac Taylor Religious Essayist 1789-1865 Bryan Walter Procter Poet 1790- Earl Russell Historian, &c 1791- Rev. Charles Wolfe Poet 1791-1821 Rev. Henry H. Milman Historian 1791-1868 Sir Roderick Murchison Geologist 1792- Sir John Bowring Translator of Poetry 1 792- Captain Fred. Marryatt Novelist 1792-1848 Sir Archibald Alison Historian 1792-1862 Rev. John Keble Poet r792-i866 Mrs. Felicia Dorothea Hemans Poetess 1 793-1 835 George Grote Historian 1794- WilHam Maginn Magazinist 1794-1842 Dr. Thomas Arnold Teacher and Historian 1794-1842 John G. Lockhart Poet and Biographer 1794-1854 William Howitt Poet and Essayist 1795- Dr. William Whewell » . • Divine and Philosopher 1795-1866 Thomas Noon Talfourd Dramatist *. . . 1795-1854 Mrs. Mary Somerville Scientific Writer 1796- Hartley Coleridge Poet and Essayist 1796-1849 Sir Charles Lyell Geologist 1797" William Motherwell Poet i797-'835 Thomas Haynes Bayly. Poet 1797-1839 Mary Wolstonecraft Shelley Novelist 1797-1851 Samuel Lover Song Writer. • . . . . 1797-1868 David Macbeth Moir Poet 1798-1851 Sir Henry Taylor Poet 1798- William Carleton Novelist 1798-1865 HISTORICAL INTRODUCTION. XXXV Robert Pollok Author of the Course of Time 1799-1827 Mary Howitt. Poetess and Essayist i8oo- Dr. Edward B. Pusey Theologian 1800- George P. R. James Novelist 1800-1860 Rev. John Henry Newman Theologian 1801- Letitia Elizabeth Landon Poetess 1802-1838 Winthrop Mackworth Praed Poet 180 - Robert Chambers Miscellaneous Writer 1802-1871 Charles Swain Poet 1803- Gerald Griffin Novelist 1803-1840 Douglass Jerrold Dramatist and Comic Essayist 1803-1857 Mrs. Anna Maria Hall Author of Novels and Sketches. . . . 1804- Earl Stanhope, Lord Mahon Historian 1805- Samuel Wilberforce, Bishop of Oxford. Theologian and Politician 1805- Rev. John Frederick Denison Maurice. Clergyman 1805- John Stuart Mill Metaphysician and Political Economist. 1806- Dr. Richard Chenevix Trench Philologist and Divine 1807- Samuel Warren, Novelist. 1808- Caroline E. S. (Sheridan) Norton. . . . Poetess 1808- Rev. Robert Montgomery Poet 1808-1855 Charles Merivale. Historian 1808- Mrs. Mary Cowden Clarke Author of Concordance of Shakespeare. 180 >- Charles James Lever Novelist 1809- Mark Lemon, Editor of Punch Author of Dramas and Sketches. . . . 1809-1870 Rich. Moncton Milnes, Lord Houghton. Poet 1809- Agnes Strickland Historian Charles Darwin Philosopher - Edinburgh Encyclopaedia, begun 1808, finished 1830. Encyclopedia Britannica, begun 1810, finished 1824, new edition 186a Edinburgh Review, founded 1802. Quarterly Review, founded 1809. Blackwood's Magazine, founded 1817. Westminster Review, founded 1824. VI. CONTEMPORARY AUTHORS (SINCE 1810). The period has now been reached at which the wise critic will hesitate about giving any very positive judgments. As we look far backward, the great lights of our literature shine like stars. Chaucer and Spenser, Shakespeare and Milton, are as fixed in our firmament as Sirius, Arcturus, Lyra, and Spica Virginis are in the blue above us. As to later names, the debate still goes on, and the next age may make a new order of succession ; and when we come nearer, such are the honest diiferences of opinion, growing out of varying XXXVi HISTORICAL INTRODUCTION. religious culture, and varying mental training, it is no wonder that there are nearly as many Valhallas for literary heroes as there are separate sects and schools of thought. When we remember how few geniuses have been appreciated while living, we shall be cautious as to our estimates of contemporaries. We do not know what form of faith, what school of thought, what theory of criticism, is to rule the world. To recognize the divine gift in any of the mortals with whom we daily mingle, and whose errors and foibles are as evident as their talents, requires the eye of prophecy. The suitors of Portia had an easier task set before them, for the enigmatical inscriptions upon the caskets gave some clew for a ready wit to seize upon. There has been no attempt at making these last lists full and complete. The number of living writers is very great, and their relative rank is wholly problematical. It is only hoped that this is a reasonably fair summary. Among writers of fiction will be noticed Wilkie Collins, eminent for his skilfully constructed plots, — Charles Reade, whose power is unquestioned,, and Sala, cleverest of im- itators, and with a good style of his own also. Dr. Brown, the genial essayist and charming story-teller, has written only enough to make usl^egret that an absorbing profession had left him so little leisure for authorship. Some views of the philosophy of history are ably presented by Creasy in his " Fifteen Decisive Battles of the World," Lewes challenges the attention of all cultivated readers by his life of the illustrious Goethe and his History of Philosophy. Helps has furnished many topics for discussion to "friends in council." Buckle has taken the vast accumulations of history, and having "sorted" the classes of facts, has given to the world a doctrine of averages, showing a constant law in apparent disorder. But the largest and most valuable contributions to our literature in the widest sense have come from the travellers, natural philosophers, and scientific explorers, who now command the most eager atten- tion from all educated men, and are exerting an influence upon thought, as well as upon the whole tone of literature and language, of which we have but a faint conception. While these powerful causes are at work within, events are ex- HISTORICAL INTRODUCTION. XXXVll tending the sphere of the language without. The colonizing genius of our race has planted civilization on all the prominent points in the highway around the globe, so that the people once known as barbarians, dwelling upon an insignificant island, are probably destined to diffuse their speech as widely as their political and com- mercial influence, and to return to the East, the old cradle of races, the augmented light of a more universal learning and nobler moral truth. Eliot Warburton Traveller. 1810-1852 Gilbert Abbot i Becket. Author of Comic History of Rome, &c., in "Punch." . 1810-1856 Dr. John Brown Author of Tales and Essays 1810- Mrs. Elizabeth C. Gaskell. ...... Novelist 1810-1865 Charles Mackay Poet 1812- Sir Edward S. Creasy, Historical Writer 1812- John Forster Biographical and Historical Writer. . . 1812- Rev. John William Colenso, Bp Theological Writer, 1813- William Edmonstoune Aytoun Poet 1813-1865 Charles Reade Novelist 1814- Anthony Trollope Novelist 1815- Philip James Bailey Poet 1816- Theodore Martin Comic Poet 1816- Charles Shirley Brooks, Novelist 1816- George H. Lewes Author of Life of Goethe, Arc 1817- Rev. Arthur i*. Stanley Divine and Philologist 1817-1870 Austen Henry Layard Traveller, &c 1817- Arthur Helps. Essayist and Historian 1817- Tom Taylor Dramatist 1817- Eliza Cook Poetess 1818- Herbert Spencer Philosopher 1820- William Hepworth Dixon Author of Travels and Hist. Studies. . 1821- Henry Thomas Buckle Historian of Civilization. ...*.... 1822-1862 David Masson Essayist, &c 1822- Matthew Arnold Poet and Com. of Education 1822- Coventry Patmore Poet of domestic Hfe 1823- Miss Charlotte Mary Yonge Novelist. ... 1823- Miss Adelaide Anne Procter Poetess 1824-1S64 Sydney Dobell Poet 1824- Wilkie Collins. . • • • Novelist 1825- Thomas Henry Huxley . Geologist, &c 1825- George Macdonald -. . . Novelist 1826- George Augustus Sala '■. - Novelist, &c 1827- Gerald Massey. Poet . 1828- William Allingham "Poet 1828- Alexander Smith Poet 1830- Bulwer Lytton ("Owen Meredith"), . Poet > . . 1831- XXXVlll HISTORICAL INTRODUCTION. Hints on the Order of Reading. The course prepared for the Latin School embraced extracts from American as well as Britis'i r.uthors ; but after the work of compila- tion was begun, it was found to be impracticable to condense the whole into one book, and accordingly it was determined to leave the specimens of American hterature for a second volume. Omitting (for this purpose) the American authors, the order suggested was as follows : — Scott — The Lady of the Lake, and prose extracts. Goldsmith — The Deserted Village and The Vicar of Wakefield. Campbell. Dickens — A Christmas Carol, as abridged. Wordsworth — We are Seven. Cowper — John Gilpin. Tennyson — Charge of the Light 'Brigade. Leigh Hunt. Ancient Ballads. Sterne. Beattie. Tennyson — The Miller's Daughter. Morris — The Man born to be King. Hazlitt. Gray. Addison. Moore. Burns. Hood. Shelley. Milton — L' Allegro and II Pen- seroso. Pope — Rape of the Lock. Thomson. Collins. Cole- ridge. Keats. Wordsworth — Intimations of Immortality. Tyndall. Milton — Lycidas and Comus. Pope — Essay on Man. Dryden. Spenser. Thackeray. Lamb. Tennyson — The Passing of Arthur. Ruskin. Shakespeare — Julius Caesar and As You Like It. Macaulay — prose and verse. Burke. Marvell. Herbert. Byron. Carlyle. Robert Hall. Ben Jonson. Bacon. Shakespeare — The Tempest, Macbeth. The list does not comprise all the authors in the volume ; but it is given for what it is worth to the consideration of instructors. HAND-BOOK OF ENGLISH LITERATURE GEOFFREY CHAUCER. Geoffrey Chaucer, who has been fitly styled "the morning star of English poetry," flourished in the reign of Edward III., and died A. D. 1400. The date of his birth is unknown, but it is supposed to have been about the year 1328. He had some public em- ployments, and a pension from the crown ; but the royal instructions, on one occasion, certainly, indicate that the practical monarch had no special appreciation of the poet's genius. " The Canterbury Tales, " his principal work, is a connected series of stories told by a number of pilgrims on their way to the shrine of a Becket. The characters are vividly and minutely drawn, so that, if history were silent, the dress and customs of the age, and even the general condition of the kingdom, could be reproduced from this poem alone. Chaucer has never been equalled in flowing, animated, and picturesque narrative ; and though his capricious versification and his use of a French accent and of words now obsolete are enough to repel most readers, still no student ever regretted the labor it cost to under- stand this great poet. A week's study will make his pages luminous. [From the Prologue to Canterbury Tales.] Whan that Aprille with his shoures soote ' The drought of March hath perced to the roote, And bathed euery veine in swich ^ Hcour', Of whiche vertue engendred is the flour ; Whan zephirus eke with his swete brethe Inspired hath in every holt'* and hethe The tendre croppes, and the yonge sonne Hath in the Ram his halfe' cours yronne,* And smale foules maken melodie, That slepen al the night with open eye, So priketh hem nature' in hir corages ; Than longen folk to gon on pilgrimages, And palmeres for to seken straunge strondes, To feme* halwes^ couthe' in sondry londes ; 1 Soft. 2 Such. 3 Grove. * Run. * Ancient. 6 Hallowed persons, s^pts. ^ Known. ; r ' -rli^ND-^OpK O^ ENGLISH LITERATURE. And specially from euery shires ende Of Englelond, to Caunterbury they wende, The holy blisful martyr for to seke, That hem hath holpen, whan that they were sekec DESCRIPTION OF " THE NONNE. ' Ther was also a Nonne, a Prioresse, That of hir smyling was full simple and coy ; Hire gretest othe n'as but by Seinte Loy ; And she was cleped^ Madame Eglentyne. Ful wel she songe the seruise' diuine, Entuned in hire nose ful semely ; And french she spake ful fayre and fetisly,- After the scole of Stratford atte Bo we, For french of Parys was ti hire vnknowe. At mete wel ytaught was she with alle ; She leet no morsel from hir lippe's falle, Ne wette hire fyngres in hir sauce depe. Wel couthe she carie a morsel, and wel kepe, That no drope ne fell upon hire brest. In curtesye was sette ful moche hire lest.^ Hire ouer-lippe wiped she so clene. That in hire cuppe was no ferthing'* sene Of grece, whan she dronken hadde hire draught Ful semely after hire mete she raught,^ And sikerly* she was of grete disport, And ful plesant', and amyable of port, And peyned ' hire to counterfete ** chere Of court, and ben estatlich of manere', And to ben holden digne ^ of reuerence. But for to speken of hire conscience, She was so charitable and so pitous', She wolde wepe if that she saw a mous Caughte in a trappe, if it were ded or bledde. Of smale houndes hadde she, that she fedde With rosted flessh, or milk, and wastel brede. . 1 Called. 2 Neatly. 3 Her pleasure. * Smallest spot 5 K r 6 Surely. ^ Took pains. » To imitate. » Wonriv. GEOFFREY CHAUCER. But sore wept she if on of hem were dede, Or if men smote it with a yerde^ smerte : * And al was conscience and tendre herte. Ful semely hire wimple pynched was ; Hire nose tretis'^ ; hire eyen grey as glas ; Hire mouth ful smale, and thereto softe and red ; But sikerly she hadde a fayre forehed'. It was almost a spanne brode I trowe ; For hardily she was not vndergrowe/ Ful fetys ' was hire cloke, as I was war. Of smale corall' aboute hire arm she bar A pair of bedes, gauded al with grene ; And thereon heng a broche of gold ful shene, On which was first writen a crouned A, And after, Amor vincit omnia. Another nonne with hire hadde she, That was hire chapelleine, and preestes thre. [From the Nonnes Preestes Talc] A YERD she had, enclose'd all about With stickes, and a drie diche without. In which she had a cok highte* chaunteclere, In all the land of croviing n'as'' his pere. His vois was merier than the mery orgon, On masse daies that in the chirches gon, Well sikerer^ was his crowing in his lodge, Than is a clok, or any abbey orloge'. His combe was redder than the fin corall', Enbattled, as it were a castel wall ; His bill was black, and as the jet it shone ; Like azure were his legges and his tone ^ ; His nailes whiter than the lily flour. And like the burned gold was his colour'. 1 Rod. 2 Smartly, 3 Straight. * Of low stature. " Neat « Called 7 There was not. 8 More distinct. " Toes. HAND-BOOK OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. ROGER ASCHAM. Roger Ascham, an eminent scholar, the preceptor of Lady Jane Gray, of Queen Eliza- beth, and of other eminent persons, was bom in 1515, and died 1568. He did not favor the use of voluminous grammars, since the "Latin Accidence," prepared for his illustrious pupils, contained less than thirty pages. He wrote " Toxophilus," a treatise upon archery, in which the necessity of exercise and recreation to the scholar is discussed. His chief work is entitled the " Schole-master," a treatise on the study of languages. After the lapse of more than three centuries his views are mainly in accordance with those of the best scholars of our day. [The benefit of a sound body for a sound mind.] This perverse judgment of men hindereth nothing so much as learning, because commonly those that be unfittest for learning, be chiefly set to learning. As if a man nowadays have two sons, the one impotent, weak, sickly, hsping, stuttering, and stammering, or having any mis-shape in his body ; what doth the father of such one commonly say ? This boy is fit for nothing else, but to set to learn- ing and make a priest of, as who would say, the outcasts of the world, having neither countenance, tongue, nor wit (for of a perverse body Cometh commonly a perverse mind), be good enough to make those men of, which shall be appointed to preach God's holy word, and minister his blessed sacraments, besides other most weighty matters in the commonwealth ; put oft times, and worthily, to learned men's discretion and charge ; when rather such an office so high in dignity, so goodly in administration, should be committed to no man, which should not have a countenance full of comeliness, to allure good men, a body full of manly authority to fear ill men, a wit apt for all learning, with tongue and voice able to persuade all men. And al- though few such men as these can be found in a commonwealth, yet surely a goodly disposed man will both in his mind think fit, and with all his study labor to get such men as I speak of, or rather better, if better can be gotten, for such an high administration, which is most properly appointed to God's own matters and businesses. This perverse judgment of fathers, as concerning the fitness and unfitness of their children, causeth the commonwealth have many unfit ministers : and seeing that ministers be, as a man would say, instruments wherewith the commonwealth doth work all her matters withal, I marvel how it chanceth that a poor shoemaker hath so much wit, that he will prepare no instrument for his science, neither knife nor awl, nor nothing else, which is not very fit for him. The commonwealth can be content to take at a fond father's hand the riff- ROGER ASCHAM. — SIR WALTER RALEIGH. 5 raflf of the world, to make those instruments of wherewithal she should work the highest matters under heaven. And surely an awl of lead is not so unprofitable in a shoemaker's shop, as an unfit minister made of gross metal is unseemly in the commonwealth. Fathers in old time, among the noble Persians, might not do with their children as they thought good, but as the judgment of the commonwealth always thought best. This fault of fathers bringeth many a blot with it, to the great deformity of the commonwealth : and here surely I can praise gentlewomen, which have always at hand their glasses, to see if anything be amiss, and so will amend it ; yet the commonwealth, having the glass of knowledge in every man's hand, doth see such uncomeliness in it, and yet winketh at it. This fault, and many such like, might be soon wiped away, if fathers would bestow their children always on that thing whereunto nature hath ordained them most apt and fit. For if youth be grafted straight and not awry, the whole commonwealth will flourish there- after. When this is done, then must every man begin to be more ready to amend himself, than to check another, measuring their matters with that wise proverb of Apollo, Know thyself: that is to say, learn to know what thou art able, fit, and apt unto, and fol- Jow that. SIR WALTER RALEIGH. Sir Walter Raleigh, a colonist, adventurer, courtier, and author, fills a large space in the annals of the time of Queen Elizabeth. He was born in 1552, was educated at Oxford, and was beheaded in 1618. While in prison he wrote a " History of the World," a voluminous work, no longer valuable, but far superior to anything that had been written at the time. His poems are marked by energy of thought and considerable felicity of expression ; and if his restless temperament had allowed him to devote himself to the quiet pursuit of letters, it is probable that few authors of his age would have earned a more enduring renown. The poem which is here given is not certainly known to be his, but of its authorship there is scarcely any doubt. Five stanzas of the original are here omitted. THE LIE. I. IL Go, soul, the body's guest, Go, tell the court it glows, Upon a thankless arrant ; ' And shines like rotten wood ; Fear not to touch the best. Go, tell the church it shows The truth shall be thy warrant ; What's good, and doth no good : Go, since I needs must die. If church and court reply. And give the world the lie. Then give them both the lie ' Errand. Arrant and errant were then common forms of the word. HAND-BOOK OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. VI. Tell zeal it lacks devotion, Tell love it is but lust, Tell time it is but motion, Tell flesh it is but dust ; And wish them not reply, For thou must give the lie. VII. Tell age it daily wasteth. Tell honour how it alters. Tell beauty how she blasteth, Tell favour how it falters. And as they shall reply. Give every one the lie. IX. Tell physic of her boldness, Tell skill it is pretension. Tell charity of coldness, Tell law it is contention. And as they do reply, So give them still the lie. Tell fortune of her blindness, Tell nature of decay. Tell friendship of unkindness, Tell justice of delay. And if they will reply. Then give them all the lie. xn. Tell faith it fled the city. Tell how the country erreth. Tell, manhood shakes off" pity, Tell, virtue least preferreth. And if they do reply, Spare not to give the lie. xin. So when thou hast, as I Commanded thee, done blabbing Although to give the lie Deserves no less than stabbing; Yet stab at thee who will. No stab the soul can kill. EDMUND SPENSER. Edmund Spenser, one of the four great names among English poets, was bom in Londot >n 1553, 3nd died in 1598. His verse is distinguished by an unchecked exuberance of fancy and an exquisite sense of melody. His longest work, "The Faerie Queene," an elaborate panegyric in allegory upon Elizabeth, has many splendid passages, but its prolixity carries the reader on far beyond the reasonable limits of a work of art. An ingenious explai;aticn of the personages in this poem and in " Colin Clout " will be found in The Atlantic Monthly, vol. ii. p. 674. Born at a time when the patronage of the public was insufficient to sustain an author, Spenser had full opportunity, between the parsimony of his royal mistress and the tardi- ness of her minister, to ponder the wisdom of the proverb, "Put not your trust in pniices. " The queen gave him a pension, which was irregularly paid, and a confiscated estate in Ire- land, from which he was driven in terror. He died soon after his escape to London. BOOK I. CANTO I. A GENTLE knight was pricking on the plaine, Ycladd in mightie armes and silver shielde. Wherein old dints of deepe woundes did remaine. The cruel markes of many a bloody fielde ; EDMUND SPENSER. Yet armes till that time did he never wield : His angry steede did chide his foming bitt, As much disdayning to the ciirbe to yield : Full iolly knight he seemd, and faire did sitt, As one for knightly giusts and fierce encounters fitt. II. And on his brest a bloodie crosse he bore, The deare remembrance of his dying Lord, For whose sweete sake that glorious badge he wore, And dead, as living, ever him ador'd : Upon his shield the like was also scor'd, For soveraine hope, which in his helpe he had. Right, faithfull, true he was in deede and word ; But of his cheere did seeme too solemne sad ; Yet nothing did he dread, but ever was ydrad. IV. A lovely ladie rode him faire beside, Upon a lowly asse mors white then snow ; Yet she much whiter ; but the same did hide Under a vele, that wimpled was full low ; And over all a blacke stole shee did throw, As one that inly mournd ; so was she sad, And heavie sate upon her palfrey slow ; Seemed in heart some hidden care she had ; And by her in a line a milke-white lambe she lad. y \ VIII. And foorth they passe, with pleasure forward led, loying to heare the birdes sweete harmony. Which therein shrouded from the tempest dred, Seemd in their song to scorne the cruell sky. Much can they praise the trees so straight and hy, The sayling pine ; the cedar proud and tall ; The vine-propp elme ; the poplar never dry ; The builder oake, sole king of forrests all ; The aspine good for staves ; the cypresse funerall ; IX. The laurell, meed of mightie conquerours And poets sage ; the firre that weepeth still ; The willow, worne of forlorne paramours ; The eugh, obedient to the benders will ; HAND-BOOK OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. The birch for shaftes ; the sallow for the mill ; The mirrhe sweete-bleeding in the bitter wound ; The warlike beech ; the ash for nothing ill ; The fruitful olive ; and the platane round ; The carver holme ; the maple, seldom inward sound. [The Palace of Morpheus.] XXXIX. He, making speedy way through spersed ayre, And through the world of waters wide and deepe, To Morpheus house doth hastily repaire, Amid the bowels of the earth full steepe. And low, where dawning day doth never peepe, His dwelling is ; there Tethys his wet bed Doth ever wash, and Cynthia still doth steepe In silver deaw his ever-droupipig hed. Whiles sad Night over him her mantle black doth spred ; XL. Whose double gates he findeth locked fast ; The one faire fram'd of burnisht yvory. The other all with silver overcast ; And wakeful dogges before them farre doe lye, Watching to banish Care their enimy. Who oft is wont to trouble gentle Sleepe. By them the sprite doth passe in quietly, And unto Morpheus comes, whom drowned deepe In drowsie fit he findes ; of nothing he takes keepe. XLI. And, more, to lulle him in his slumber soft, A trickling streame from high rock tumbling downe, And ever-drizling raine upon the loft, Mixt with a murmuring winde, much like the sowne Of swarming bees, did cast him in a swowne. No other noyse, nor peoples troublous cryes. As still are wont t' annoy the walled towne. Might there be heard : but carelesse Quiet lyes Wrapt in eternall silence farre from enimyes. EDMUXD SPENSER. CANTO VI. [The Heroine meets the Sylvan Deities.] IX. The wyld wood-gods, arrived in the place, There find the virgin, doolfull, desolate. With ruffled rayments, and fayre blubbred face, As her outrageous foe had left her late ; And trembling yet through feare of former hate : All stand amazed at so un'couth sight. And gin to pittie her unhappie state ; All stand astonied at her beauty bright. In their rude eyes unworthy of so wofull plight. XIII. Their harts she ghesseth by their humble guise, And yieldes her to extremitie of time : So from the ground she fearlesse doth arise. And walketh forth without suspect of crime : They, all as glad as birdes of ioyous pryme. Thence led her fortli, about her dauncing round, Shouting, and singing all a shepheards ryme ; And with greene braunches strowing all the ground, Do worship her as queene with olive girlond cround. XIV. And all the way their merry pipes they sound, That all the woods with double echo ring ; And with their horned feet doe weare the ground, Leaping Hke wanton kids in pleasant spring. So towards old Sylvanus they her bring ; Who, with the noyse awaked, commeth out To weet the cause, his weake steps governing And aged limbs on cypresse stadle ' stout ; And with an yvie twyne his waste is girt about. XVI. The wood-borne people fall before her flat, And worship her as goddesse of the wood ; And old Sylvanus selfe bethinkes not, what To thinke of wight so fayre ; but gazing stood In doubt to deeme her borne of earthly brood : ^ A support. lO HAND-BOOK OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. Sometimes dame Venus selfe he seemes to see ; But Venus never had so sober mood : Sometimes Diana he her takes to be ; But misseth bow and shaftes, and buskins to her knee. BOOK II. CANTO XIL [The Harmony of Nature.] LXX. Eftsoones they heard a most melodious sound, Of all that mote delight a daintie eare, Such as attonce might not on Hving ground, Save in this paradise, be heard elsewhere : Right hard it was for wight which did it heare. To read what manner musicke that mote bee ; For all that pleasing is to living eare Was there consorted in one harmonee ; Birdes, voices, instruments, windes, waters, all agree. LXXI. The ioyous birdes, shrouded in chearefuU shade, Their notes unto the voice attempred sweet ; Th' angelicall soft trembling voyces made To th' instruments divine respondence meet ; The silver-sounding instruments did meet With the base murmure of the waters fall ; The waters fall with difference discreet. Now soft, now loud, unto the wind did call ; The gentle warbling wind low answered to all. RICHARD HOOKER. Richard Hooker, an eminent divine, was born near Exeter, in 1553, and died in 1600. His life was marked by no striking incidents. His chief work on " Ecclesiastical Polity " ii a work of great erudition and eloquence. In the words of Hallam, ' ' So stately and grace- ful is the march of his per ods, so various the fall of his musical cadences upon the ear, so rich in images, so condensed in sentences, so grave and noble his diction, so little is there of vulgarity in his racy idiom, of pedantry in his learned phrase, that I know not whether any later writ2r has more admirably displayed the capacities of our language, or produced passages more worthy of comparison with the splendid monuments of antiquity." CHURCH MUSIC. Touching musical harmony, whether by instrument or by voice, it being but of high and low in sounds a due proportionable disposi- tioU; such notwithstanding is the force thereof, and so pleasing RICHARD HOOKER. II effects it hath in that very part of man which is most divine, that some have been thereby induced to think that the soul itself by nature is, or hath in it, harmony ; a thing which delighteth all ages, and beseemeth all states ; a thing as seasonable in grief as in joy ; as decent, being added unto actions of greatest weight and solemnity, as being used when men most sequester themselves from action. The reason hereof is an admirable facility which music hath to express and represent to the mind, more inwardly than any other sensible mean, the very standing, rising and falling, the very steps and inflections every way, the turns and varieties of all passions whereunto the mind is subject ; yea, so to imitate them, that, whether it resemble unto us the same state wherein our minds already are, or a clean contrary, we are not more contentedly by the one confirmed, than changed and led away by the other. In har- mony, the very image and character even of virtue and vice is perceived, the mind delighted with their resemblances, and brought, by having them often iterated, into a love of the things themselves. For which cause there is nothing more contagious and pestilent than some kinds of harmony ; than some, nothing more strong and potent unto good. And that there is such a difference of one kind from another, we need no proof but our own experience, inasmuch as we are at the hearing of some more inclined unto sorrow and heaviness, of some more mollified and softened in mind ; one kind apter to stay and settle us, another to move and stir our affections ; there is that draweth to a marvellous grave and sober mediocrity ; there is also that carrieth, as it were, into ecstasies, fiUing the mind with a heavenly joy, and for the time in a manner severing it from the body ; so that, although we lay altogether aside the considera- tion of ditty or matter, the very harmony of sounds being framed in due sort, and carried from the ear to the spiritual faculties of our souls, is, by a native puissance and efficacy, greatly available to bring to a perfect temper whatsoever is there troubled ; apt as well to quicken the spirits as to allay that which is too eager ; sovereign against melancholy and despair ; forcible to draw forth tears of devotion, if the mind be such as can yield them ; able both to move and to moderate all affections. The prophet David having, there- fore, singular knowledge, not in poetry alone, but in music also, judged them both to be things most necessary for the house of God, left behind him to that purpose a number of divinely indited poems, and was further the author of adding unto poetry melody in public prayer ; melody, both vocal and instrumental, for the raising up of 12 HAND-BOOK OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. men's hearts, and the sweetening of the affections towards God In which considerations the church of Christ doth likewise at this present day retain it as an ornament to God's service, and a help to our own devotion. They which, under pretence of the law cere- monial abrogated, require the abrogation of instrumental music, approving, nevertheless, the use of vocal melody to remain, must shew some reason wherefore the one should be thought a legal cere- mony, and not the other. In church music, curiosity or ostentation of art, wanton, or light, or unsuitable harmony, such as only pleaseth the ear, and doth not naturally serve to the very kind and degree of those impressions which the matter that goeth with it leaveth, or is apt to leave, in men's minds, doth rather blemish and disgrace that we do, than add either beauty or furtherance unto it. On the other side, the faults prevented, the force and efficacy of the thing itself, when it drowneth not utterly, but fitly suiteth with matter altogether sounding to the praise of God, is in truth most admirable, and doth much edify, if not the understanding, because it teacheth not, yet surely the affection, because therein it worketh much. They must have hearts very dry and tough, from whom the melody of the psalms doth not sometime draw that wherein a mind religiously affected delighteth. FRANCIS BACON. Francis Bacon, Lord Venilam, an eminent philosopher and jurist, was bom in London, in 1561, and died in 1626. He was the son of Sir Nicholas Bacon, lord keeper ; and his uncle, Lord Burleigh, and his cousin, Sir Robert Cecil, were ministers of Queen Elizabeth, so that from early youth he was intimate with the most eminent persons of his time. He was educated at Trinity College, Cambridge. His intellect in scope and power has, prob- ably, never been excelled, certainly not by any of our English race. Besides the Essays, which are wonderful specimens of crystallized thought, his principal works are " On the Advancement of Learning," and the ^^ Novum Organoft," a refutation, or rather sub- stitute, for the philosophy of Aristotle. The later years of this illustrious man were passed in disgrace on account of h's corrupt practices as judge. The lines of Pope will be re- membered, — "If parts allure thee, think how Bacon shined. The wisest, brightest, meanest of mankind." A very thorough and interesting summary of his life and works may be read in the Essays of Macaulay. A more favorable view of his character, not wholly successful as a defence, but not without plausibility, is presented in W. Hepworth Dixon's "Personal History c;f Lord Bacon." OF CUNNING. We take cunning for a sinister, or crooked wisdom; and cer- tainly there is a great difference between a cunning man and a wise FRANCIS BACON. 1 3 man, not only in point of honesty, but in point of ability. There be that can pack the cards, and yet cannot play well ; so there are some that are good in canvasses and factions, that are otherwise weak men. Again, it is one thing to understand persons, and another thing to understand matters ; for many are perfect in men's humors, that are not greatly capable of the real part of business, which is the constitution of one that hath studied men more than books. Such men are fitter for practice than for counsel, and they are good but in their own alley : turn them to new men, and they have lost their aim ; so as the old rule, to know a fool from a wise man, " Mitte ambos nudos ad ignotos, et videbis," * doth scarce hold for them. And because these cunning men are like haberdashers of small wares, it is not amiss to set forth their shop. Another is, that when you have anything to obtain of present despatch, you entertain and amuse the party with whom you deal with some other discourse, that he be not too much awake to make objections. I knew a counsellor and secretary, that never came to Queen Elizabeth of England with bills to sign, but he would always first put her into some discourse of state, that she might the less mind the bills. The like surprise may be made by moving things when the party is in haste, and cannot stay to consider advisedly of that is moved. If a man would cross a business that he doubts some other would handsomely and effectually move, let him pretend to wish it well, and move it himself in such sort as may foil it. The breaking off in the midst of that one was about to say, as if he took himself up, breeds a greater appetite in him with whom you confer to know more. And because it works better when anything seemeth to be gotten from you by question, than if you offer it of yourself, you may lay a bait for a question, by showing another visage and countenance than you are wont ; to the end, to give occasion for the party to ask what the matter is of the change, as Nehemiah did, — " And I had not before that time been sad before the king." In things that are tender and unpleasing, it is good to break the ice by some whose words are of less weight, and to reserve the more weighty voice to come in as by chance, so that he may be asked the question upon the other's speech ; as Narcissus did, in relating to Claudius the marriage of Messalina and Silius.'^ 1 " Send both naked to strangers, and thou shalt know." 2 Tacit. Ann. xi. 29, seq 14 HAND-BOOK OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. In things that a man would not be seen in himself, it is a point of cunning to borrow the name of the world ; as to say, " The world says," or, " There is a speech abroad." I know one that when he wrote a letter, he would put that which was most material in the postscript, as if it had been a by- matter. I knew another that when he came to have speech, he would pass over that he intended most, and go forth, and come back again, and speak of it as a thing he had almost forgot. Some procure themselves to be surprised at such times as it is like the party, that they work upon, will suddenly come uj^on them, and be found with a letter in their hand, or doing somewhat which they are not accustomed, to the end they may be apposed * of those things which of themselves they are desirous to utter. It is a point of cunning to let fall those words in a man's own name which he would have another man learn and use, and there- upon take advantage. I know two that were competitors for the secretary's place, in Queen Ehzabeth's time, and yet kept good quarter '^ between themselves, and would confer one with another upon the business ; and the one of them said, that to be a secretary in the declination of a monarchy was a ticklish thing, and that he did not affect ^ it ; the other straight caught up those words, and discoursed with divers of his friends, that he had no reason to desire to be secre- tary in the declining of a monarchy. The first man took hold of it, and found means it was told the queen ; who, hearing of a declina- tion of monarchy, took it so ill, as she would never after hear of the other's suit. There is a cunning which we in England call " the turning of the cat in the pan ; "•* which is, when that which a man says to another, he lays it as if another had said it to him ; and, to say truth, it is not easy, when such a matter passed between two, to make it appear from which of them it first moved and began. It is a way that some men have, to glance and dart at others by justifying themselves by negatives ; as to say, " This I do not ; " as Tigellinus did towards Burrhus, saying, " Se non diversas spes, sed incolumitatem imperatoris simpliciter spectare." ' Some have in readiness so many tales and stories, as there is nothing they would insinuate but they can warp it into a tale ; which 1 Questioned. 2 Amity, concord. 3 Aim at, endeavor after. ■* Cat in the pan. Pan-cake. ' " He did not look to various hopes, but solely to the safety of the emperor." FRANCIS BACON. I 5 serveth both to keep themselves more in ' guard, and to make others carry it with more pleasure. It is a good point of cunning for a man to shape the answer he would have in his own words and propositions, for it makes the other party stick the less. It is strange how long some men will lie in wait to speak some- what they desire to say, and how far about they will fetch, and how many other matters they will beat over to come near it ; it is a thing of great patience, but yet of much use. A sudden, bold, and unexpected question doth many times sur- prise a man, and lay him open. Like to him that, having changed his name, and walking in Paul's, another suddenly came behind him, and called him by his true name, whereat straightways he looked back. But these small wares and petty points of cunning are infinite, and it were a good deed to make a list of them ; for that nothing doth more hurt in a state than that cunning men pass for wise. But certainly some there are that know the resorts - and falls ^ of business, that cannot sink into the main of it : like a house that hath convenient stairs and entries, but never a fair room : therefore you shall see them find out pretty* looses^ in the conclusion, but are no ways able to examine or debate matters : and yet commonly they take advantage of their inability, and would be thought wits of direc- tion. Some build rather upon the abusing'' of others, and (as we now say) putting tricks upon them, than upon the soundness of their own proceedings ; but Solomon saith, " Prudens advertit ad gressus suos ; stultus divertit ad dolos." ^ OF GARDENS. God Almighty first planted a garden, and, indeed, it is the purest of human pleasures ; it is the greatest refreshment to the spirits of man, without which building and palaces are but gross handiworks : and a man shall ever see, that when ages grow to civility and elegancy men come tq build stately, sooner than to garden finely ; as if gardening were the greater perfection. I do hold it, in the royal ordering of gardens, there ought to be gardens for all the months in the year, in which, severally, things of beauty may be then in sea- 1 On. 2 Springs. 3 Chances. * Suitable, fit '* Issues ; escapes from restraint, such as is difficulty or perplexity in deliberation. •* Abuse. To deceive. ' "The wise man looks to his steps ; the fool turns aside to the snare." 1 6 HAND-BOOK OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. son. For December and January, and the latter part of November, you must take such things as are green all winter ; holly, ivy, bays, juniper, cypress trees, yew, pines, fir trees, rosemary, lavender ; peri- winkle, the white, the purple, and the blue ; germander, flag, orange trees, lemon trees, and myrtles, if they be stoved ; and sweet marjo- ram, warm set. There followeth, for the latter part of January and February, the mezereon tree, which then blossoms ; crocus vernus, both the yellow and the gray ; primroses, anemones, the early tulip, hyacinthus orientalis, chamairis, fritellaria. For March there come violets, especially the single blue, which are the earliest ; the early daffodil, the daisy, the almond tree in blossom, the peach tree in blossom, the cornehan tree in blossom, sweetbrier. In April, fol- low the double white violet, the wall-flower, the stock-gilliflower, the cowslip, flower-de-luces,^ and lilies of all natures ; rosemary flowers, the tulip, the double peony, the pale daffodil, the French honey- suckle, the cherry tree in blossom, the damascene and plum trees in blossom, the white thorn in leaf, the lilac tree. In May and June come pinks of all sorts, especially the blush pink ; roses of all kinds, except the musk, which comes later ; honeysuckle, strawberries, bugloss, columbine, the French marigold, flos Africanus, cherry tree in fruit, ribes,^ figs in fruit, rasps, '^ vine flowers, lavender in flowers, the sweet satyrian, with the white flower ; herba muscaria, lilium convallium, the apple tree in blossom. In July come gilliflowers of all varieties, musk roses, the lime tree in blossom, early pears, and plums in fruit, gennitings,* quodlins.^ In August come plums of all sorts in fruit, pears, apricocks, barberries, filberds, musk- melons, monks-hoods, of all colors. In September come grapes, apples, poppies of all colors, peaches, melocotones,** nectarines, cornelians,' wardens,* quinces. In October and the beginning of November come services,^ medlars, bullaces, roses cut or removed to come late, hollyoaks,^" and such like. These particulars are for the climate of London ; but my meaning is perceived, that you may have ver perpetuuirt^^ as the place affords. And because the breath of flowers is far sweeter in the air (where it comes and goes, like the warbhng of music) than in the hand, therefore nothing is more fit for that delight, than to know what be the flowers and plants that do best perfume the air. Roses, damask and red, are fast *' flowers of their smells ; so that you may walk by a 1 Flower-de-luce. 2 Currants. ^ Raspberries. < Jennethings. ■'• Codlins. " A large peach. "^ Cherries. « a large keeping pear. " A plant and fruit (Sorbus). 1° Hollyhocks. 11 A perpetual spring. 12 Tenacious. FRANCIS BACON. I7 whole row of them, and find nothing of their sweetness, yea, though it be in a morning's dew. Bays, likewise, yield no smell as they grow, rosemary little, nor sweet marjoram ; that which, above all others, yields the sweetest smell in the air, is the violet ; especially the white double violet, which comes twice a year — about the mid- dle of April, and about Bartholomew-tide. Next to that is the musk rose ; then the strawberry leaves dying, with a most excellent cordial smell ; then the flowers of the vines — it is a little dust hke the dust of a bent,^ which grows upon the cluster in the first coming forth — then sweetbrier, then wall-flowers, which are very delightful to be set under a parlor or lower chamber window ; then pinks and gilli- flowers,^ especially the matted pink and clove gilliflowers ; then the flowers of the lime tree ; then the honeysuckles, so they be some- what afar off. Of bean-flowers I speak not, because they are field flowers ; but those which perfume the air most delightfully, not passed by as the rest, but being trodden upon and crushed, are three, that is, burnet, wild thyme, and water-mints ; therefore you are to set whole alleys of them, to have the pleasure when you walk or tread. For gardens (speaking of those which are, indeed, prince-like, as we have done of buildings), the contents ought not well to be under thirty acres of ground, and to be divided into three parts ; a green in the entrance, a heath or desert in the going forth, and the main garden in the midst, besides alleys on both sides ; and I like well that four acres of ground be assigned to the green, six to the heath, four and four to either side, and twelve to the main garden. The green hatli two pleasures ; the one, because nothing is more pleasant to the eye than green grass kept finely shorn ; the other, because it will give you a fair alley in the midst, by which you may go in front upon a stately edge, which is to enclose the garden : but because the alley will be long, and, in great heat of the year, or day, you ought not to buy the shade in the garden by going in the sun through the green, therefore you are, of either side the green, to plant a covert alley, upon carpenters' work, about twelve feet in height, by which you may go in shade into the garden. As for the making of knots, or figures, with divers -colored earths, that they may lie under the windows of the ^louse on that side on which the garden stands, they be but toys : you may see as good sights many 1 Bent-grass. 2 This name probably comes from the old French g^ilofre for girojle, a clove, derived from caryophyllus. 2 1 8 HAND-BOOK OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. times in tarts. The garden is best to be square, encompassed on all the four sides with a stately arched hedge ; the arches to be upon pillars of carpenters' work, of some ten feet high, and six feet broad, and the spaces between of the same dimensions with the breadth of the arch. Over the arches let there be an entire hedge of some four feet high, framed also upon carpenters' work ; and upon the upper hedge, over every arch, a little turret, with- a belly enough to receive a cage of birds : and over every space between the arches some other little figure, with broad plates of round colored glass gilt, for the sun to play upon : but this hedge I intend to be raised upon a bank, not steep, but gently slope, of some six feet, set all with flowers. Also, I understand that this square of the garden should not be the whole breadth of the ground, but to leave on either side ground enough for diversity of side alleys, unto which the two covert alleys of the green may deliver you ; but there must be no alleys with hedges at either end of this great enclosure — not at the hither end, for letting* your prospect upon this fair hedge from the green — nor at the farther end, for letting your prospect from the hedge through the arches upon the heath. For the ordering of the ground within the great hedge, I leave it to variety of device, advising, nevertheless, that whatsoever form you cast it into first, it be not too busy,^ or full of work ; wherein I, for my part, do not like images cut out in juniper or other garden stuff — they be for children. Little low hedges, round like welts,^ with some pretty pyramids, I like well ; and in some places fair columns, upon frames of carpenters' work. I would also have the alleys spacious and fair. You" may have closer alleys upon the side grounds, but none in the main garden. I wish, also, in the verj- middle, a fair mount, with three ascents and alleys, enough for four to walk abreast, which I would have to be perfect circles, without any bulwarks or embossments ; and the whole mount to be thirty feet high, and some fine banqueting-house, with some chimneys neatly cast, and without too much glass. For fountains, they are a great beauty and refreshment ; but pools mar all, and make the garden unwholesome, and full of flies and frogs. Fountains I intend to be of two natures, the one that sprin- kleth or spouteth water ; the other a fair receipt * of water, of some thirty or forty feet square, but without any fish, or slime, or mud. For the first, the ornaments of images, gilt, or of marble, which are 1 Let. To hinder. « Elaborate. » Edging ;' border. * Receptacle. FRANCIS BACON. 1 9 in use, do well ; but the main matter is so to convey the water as * it never stay, either in the bowls or in the cistern — that the water be never by rest discolored, green or red, or the like, or gather any mossiness or putrefaction : besides that, it is to be cleansed every day by the hand — also some steps up to it, and some fine pavement about it do well. As for the other kind of fountain, which we may call a bathing-pool, it may admit much curiosity ^ and beauty, where- with we will not trouble ourselves : as, that the bottom be finely paved, and with images : the sides likewise ; and withal embellished with colored glass, and such things of lustre, encompassed also with fine rails of low statuas ; ^ but the main point is the same which we mentioned in the former kind of fountain, which is, that the water be in perpetual motion, fed by a water higher than the pool, and delivered into it by fair spouts, and then discharged away under ground, by some equahty of bores, that it stay little ; and for fine devices, of arching water without spilling, and making it rise in several forms (of feathers, drinking glasses, canopies, and the like), they be pretty things to look on, but nothing to health and sweetness. For the heath, which was the third part of our plot, I wished it to be framed as much as may be to a natural wildness. Trees I would have none in it, but some thickets made only of sweetbrier and honeysuckle, and some wild vines amongst, and the ground set with violets, strawberries, and primroses ; for these are sweet, and prosper in the shade, and these are to be in the heath here and there, not in any order. I Uke also little heaps, in the nature of mole-hills (such as are in wild heaths), to be set, some with wild thyme, some with pinks, some with germander, that gives a good flower to the eye ; some with periwinkle, some with violets, some with strawberries, some with cowslips, some with daisies, some with red roses, some with lilium convallium, some with sweet-williams red, some with bear's-foot, and the like low flowers, being withal sweet and sightly — part of which heaps to be with standards of little bushes pricked upon their top, and part without — the standards to be roses, juniper, holly, berberries (but here and there, because of the smell of their blossom), red currants, gooseberries, rosemary, bays, sweetbrier, and such like ; but these standards to be kept with cutting, that they grow not out of course. For the side grounds, you are to fill them with variety of alleys, private to give a full shade ; some of them wheresoever the sun be. 1 That. 2 Elegance. 8 "Even at the base of Pompey's statua." — Shakespeare, Jul. Ccesar. 20 HAND-BOOK OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. You are to frame some of them likewise for shelter, that, when the wind blows sharp, you may walk as in a gallery ; and those alleys must be likewise hedged at both ends, to keep out the wind, and these closer alleys must be ever finely gravelled, and no grass, because of going ^ wet. In many of these alleys, likewise, you are to set fruit trees of all sorts, as well upon the walls as in ranges : and this should be generally observed, that the borders wherein you plant your fruit trees be fair, and large, and low, and not steep, and set with fine flowers, but thin and sparingly, lest they deceive ^ the trees. At the end of both the side grounds I would have a mount of some pretty height, leaving the wall of the enclosure breast-high, to look abroad into the fields. For the main garden, I do not deny but there should be some fair alleys ranged on both sides with fruit trees, and some pretty tufts of fruit trees and arbors with seats, set in some decent order ; but these to be by no means set too thick, but to leave the main garden so as it be not close, but the air open and free. For as for shade, I would have you rest upon the alleys of the side grounds, there to walk, if you be disposed, in the heat of the year or day ; but to make account, that the main garden is for the more temperate parts of the year, and, in the heat of summer, for the morning and the even- ing, or overcast days. For aviaries, I like them not, except they be of that largeness as they may be turfed, and have living plants and bushes set in them, that the birds may have more scope and natural nestling, and that no foulness appear on the floor of the aviary. So I have made a platform of a princely garden, partly by precept, partly by drawing — not a model, but some general lines of it — and in this I have spared for no cost ; but it is nothing for great princes, that, for the most part, taking advice with workmen with no less cost set their things together, and sometimes add statues, and such things, for state and magnificence, but nothing to the true pleasure of a garden. OF STUDIES. Studies serve for delight, for ornament, and for ability. Their chief use for delight is in privateness, and retiring ; for ornament, is in discourse ; and for ability, is in the judgment and disposition of business ; for expert men can execute, and perhaps judge of par- ticulars, one by one ; but the general counsels, and the plots and 1 Go. To tend to. * To deprive by stealth ; to rob FRANCIS BACON. 21 marshalling of affairs, come best from those that are learned. To spend too much time in studies, is sloth ; to use them too much for ornament, is affectation ; to make ' judgment wholly by their rules, is the humor of a scholar ; they perfect nature, and are perfected by experience — for natural abilities are like natural plants, that need pruning by study ; and studies themselves do give forth directions too much at large, except they be bounded in by experience. Crafty men contemn studies, simple men admire them, and wise men use them, for they teach not their own use ; but that is a wisdom without them, and above them, won by observation. Read not to contradict and confute, nor to believe and take for granted, nor to find talk and discourse, but to weigh and consider. Some books are to be tasted, others to be swallowed, and some few to be chewed and digested : that is, some books are to be read only in parts ; others to be read, but not curiously ; "^ and some few to be read wholly, and with dil- igence and attention. Some books also may be read by deputy, and extracts made of them by others ; but that would ^ be only in the less important arguments, and the meaner sort of books ; else dis- tilled books are, like common distilled waters, flashy things. Read- ing maketh a full man, conference a ready man, and writing an exact man ; and therefore, if a man write Httle, he had need have a great memory ; if he confer httle, he had need have a present wit ; and if he read little, he had need have much cunning, to seem to know that * he doth not. Histories make men wise ; poets witty ; the mathematics subtle ; natural philosophy deep ; moral, grave ; logic and rhetoric, able to contend : " Abeunt in studia mores " ^ — nay, there is no stond^ or impediment in the wit, but may be wrought' out by fit studies, like as diseases of the body may have appropriate exercises — bowling is good for the stone and reins, shooting for the lungs and breast, gentle walking for the stomach, riding for the head, and the hke ; so, if a man's wits be wandering, let him study the mathematics, for in demonstrations, if his wit be called away never so little, he must begin again ; if his wit be not apt to dis- tinguish or find differences,** let him study the schoolmen, for they are " cymini sectores ; " ^ if he be not apt to beat over matters, and to call upon one thing to prove and illustrate another, let him study the lawyers' cases — so every defect of the mind may have a special receipt. » Give. 2 Attentively. 3 Should. * What, ^ " Manners are influenced by studies. " " Hinderance. ' Worked. * Distinctions. » " Splitters of cummin. " 22 HAND-BOOK OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. OF JUDICATURE. Judges ought to remember that their office is jus dicere, and not "jus dare " — to interpret law, and not to make law, or give law — else will it be like the authority claimed by the church of Rome, which, under pretext of exposition of Scripture, doth not stick to add and alter, and to pronounce that which they do not find, and by show of antiquity to introduce novelty. Judges ought to be more learned than witty, more reverend than plausible, and more advised than confident. Above all things, integrity is their portion and proper virtue. " Cursed (saith the law) is he that remove th the land- mark." ^ The mislayer of a mere stone is to blame ; but it is the unjust judge that is the capital remover of landmarks, when he de- fineth amiss of land and property. One foul sentence doth more hurt than many foul examples ; for these do but corrupt the stream, the other corrupteth the fountain — so saith Solomon, " Fons tur- batus, et vena corrupta est Justus cadens in causa sua coram ad- versario." ^ The office of judges may have a reference unto the parties that sue, unto the advocates that plead, unto clerks and ministers of justice underneath them, and to the sovereign or state above them. First, for the cause of parties that sue. There be (saith the Scripture) "that turn judgment into wormwood ; " ^ and surely there be also that turn it into vinegar ; for injustice maketh it bitter, and delays make it sour. The principal duty of a judge is to suppress force and fraud, whereof force is the more pernicious when it is open, and fraud when it is close and disguised. Add thereto con- tentious suits, which ought to be spewed out as the surfeit ot courts. A judge ought to prepare his way to a just sentence, as God useth to prepare his way by raising valleys and taking down hills : so when there appeareth on either side a high hand, violent persecution, cunning advantages taken, combination, power, great counsel, then is the virtue of a judge seen to make mequality equal ; that he may plant his judgment as upon even ground. " Qui fortiter emungit, elicit sanguinem ; " '' and where the wine-press is hard wrought, it yields a harsh wine, that tastes of the grape stone. Judges must beware of hard constructions and strained inferences ; for there is no worse torture than the torture of laws ; especially * Deut. xxvii. 17. 2 "A righteous man falling in his cause before his adversary is as a troubled fountain and a corrupt spring." — Prov. xxv. 26. ' Amos V. 7. * "Who wrings hard draws forth blood." — Cf. Prov. xxx. 33^ FRANCIS BACON. 23 In case of laws penal, they ought to have care, that that which was meant for terror, be not turned into rigor : and that they bring not upon people that shower whereof the Scripture speak- eth, " Pluet super eos laqueos ; " ^ for penal laws pressed, are a shower of snares upon the people : therefore let penal laws, if they have been sleepers of long,^ or if they be grown unfit for the present time, be by wise judges confined in the execution : " Judicis officium est, ut res, ita tempora rerum," &c.^ In causes of life and death, judges ought (as far as the law permitteth) in justice to remember mercy, and to cast a severe eye upon the example, but a merciful eye upon the person. Secondly, for the advocates and counsel that plead. Patience and gravity of hearing is an essential part of justice, and an over-speak- ing judge is no well- tuned cymbal.* It is no grace to a judge first to find that which he might have heard in due time from the bar, or to show quickness of conceit '" in cutting off evidence or counsel too short, or to prevent^ information by questions, though pertinent. The parts of a judge in hearing are four : to direct the evidence ; to moderate length, repetition, or impertineacy' of speech; to recapitulate, select, and collate the material points of that which hath been said ; and to give the rule or sentence. Whatsoevel is above these is too much, and proceedeth either of " glory ^ and willingness to speak, or of impatience to hear, or of shortness of memory, or of want of a stayed and equal attention. It is a strange thing to see that the boldness of advocates should prevail with judges, whereas they should imitate God, in whose seat they sit, who represseth the presumptuous, and giveth grace to the modest ; but it is more strange that judges should have noted favorites, which cannot but cause multiplication of fees and suspicion of by- ways. There is due from the judge to the advocate some com- mendation and gracing, '" where causes are well handled and fair pleaded, especially towards the side which obtaineth not, for that upholds in the client the reputation of his counsel, and beats down in him the conceit^* of his cause. There is likewise due to the public a civil reprehension of advocates, where there appeareth cun- ning counsel, gross neglect, slight information, indiscreet pressing. * " He shall rain snares upon them." — Psalm x\. 6. * For; during. ' " It is the duty of a judge to take into consideration the times, as well as the circum- stances, of facts." — Ovid, Tri'si. 1. i. 37. * Psalm cl. 5. 5 Conception ; apprehension. " Forestall. "> Irrelevancy. » From. » Display : vaunting.^ « Grace. To favor. « Opinion. 24 HAND-BOOK OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. or an over-bold defence. And let not the counsel at the bar chop^ with the judge, nor wind himself into the handling of the cause anew, after the judge hath declared his sentence ; but, on the other side, let not the judge meet the cause half way, nor give occasion to the party to say his counsel or proofs were not heard. Thirdly, for that that concerns clerks and ministers. The place of justice is a hallowed place ; and therefore not only the bench, but the footpace^ and precincts, and purprise^ thereof, ought to be preserved without scandal and corruption ; for, certainly, grapes (as the Scripture saith) "will not be gathered of thorns or thistles,"* neither can justice yield her fruit with sweetness among the briers and brambles of catching and polling ^ clerks and ministers. The attendance of courts is subject to four bad instruments : first, certain persons that are sowers of suits, which make the court swell, and the country pine : the second sort is of those that engage courts in quarrels of jurisdiction, and are not truly "amici curiae," but "parasiti curiae,"** in puffing a court up beyond her bounds for their own scraps and advantages : the third sort is of those that may be accounted the leit hands of courts, persons that are full of nim- ble and sinister tricks and shifts, whereby they pervert the plain and direct courses of courts, and bring justice into oblique lines and labyrinths : and the fourth is the poller ' and exacter of fees, which justifies the common resemblance of the courts of justice to the bush, whereunto while the sheep flies for defence in weather, he is sure to lose part of the fleece. On the other side, an ancient ** clerk, skilful in precedents, wary in proceedings, and understanding in the business of the court, is an excellent figure of a court, and doth many times point the way to the judge himself. Fourthly, for that which may concern the sovereign and estate. Judges ought, above all, to remember the conclusion of the Roman Twelve Tables, " Salus populi suprema lex ; " * and to know that laws, except they be in order to that end, are but things captious, and oracles not well inspired : therefore it is a happy thing in a state, when kings and states do often consult with judges : and again, when judges do often consult with the king and state : the one, where there is matter of law intervenient ^" in business of state ; the other, when there is some consideration of state intervenient in matter of law ; for many times the things deduced to judgment may » To bandy words. 2 a lobby. 3 Enclosure. * Matt. vii. 16. ^ P'.undering. « "Friends of the court," but "parasites of the court." ^ Plunderer. 8 Of great experience. ^ " The safety of the people is the supreme law." 1" Intervening. FRANCIS BACON. — WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 2$ be "meum" and "tuum,"' when the reason and consequence thereof may trench to point of estate : I call matter of estate, not only the parts of sovereignty, but whatsoever introduceth any great alteration or dangerous precedent: or concerneth manifestly any great portion of people ; and let no man weakly conceive that just Taws, and true pohcy, have any antipathy ; for they are hke the spirits and sinews, that one moves with the other. Let judges also remember, that Solomon's throne was supported by lions on both sides : ^ let them be lions, but yet lions under the thron* ; being circumspect, that they do not check or oppose any pi>ints of sovereignty. Let not judges also be so ignorant of their own right as to think there is not left them, as a principal part of their office, a wise use and application of laws ; for they may remember what the apostle saith of a greater law than theirs, " Nos scimus quia lex bona est, modo quis ea utatur legitime." ^ WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. William Shakespeare was bom at Stratford-on-Avon in April, 1564, and died April 23, 1616. It is evident that his townsmen and most of his contemporaries had no idea of his future greatness, and scarcely any accounts of his youth or of the beginning of his literary career have come down to us. It is surprising that all personal recollections of such a m; n should have disappeared with his generation, and that from the pen of so prolific a writei only his will and three other autographs now remain. Criticism and research have prob- ably done their utmost, and we must be content to study the life of our greatest poet in his works. The only important facts respecting him, which do not rest in part on conjecture, are, that he was educated in the grammar school of his native town, was detected once in deer stealing in the neighboring park of the Lucys, was married while still in his minority, — that he appeared in early manhood as an actor, dramatist, and afterwards manager, in Lon- don, where he enjoyed the friendship of Ben Jonson, Drayton, and other men of letters, — that he acquired a competency, and retired to Stratford, where he died. He was careless of his fame, and took little pains to have his plays correctly printed, to defend his claims to his own productions, or to disavow the authorship of inferior vst)rks falsely attributed to him by booksellers. No specimens of his plays are given in this volume, for reasons stated in the preface. A few sonnets only have been selected ; but even these would be sufficient to establish his claim to high rank among poets. The student can have his choice among many excellent editions of Shakespeare. Two ver> admirable editions have appeared in this country, one edited by Richard Grant White, th« other by Rev. H. N. Hudson. [Selected Sonnets.] XVIIL Shall I compare thee to a summer's day ? Thou art more lovely and more temperate : Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May, And summer's lease hath all too short a date. 1 "Mine "and "thine." 2 j Kings x. 20. 3 "We know that the law is good, if a man use it lawfully." — i Tim. i. 8. 26 ¥4At4J>BOOK OF ENGLISH LITERATURli. Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines, And often is his gold complexion dimmed, And every fair from fair sometime declines, By chance, or nature's changing course, untrimmed ; But thy eternal summer shall not fade. Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest ; Nor shall Death brag thou wander'st in his shade, When in eternal lines to time thou growest. So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see, So long lives this, and this gives life to thee. XXIX. When in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes, I all alone beweep my outcast state. And trouble deaf Heaven with my bootless cries. And look upon myself, and curse my fate. Wishing me like to one more rich in hope, Featured like him, like him with friends possessed, Pesiring this man's art, and that man's scope, With what I most enjoy contented least ; \'et in these thoughts myself almost despising, Haply I think on thee, and then my state (Like to the lark at break of day arising From sullen earth) sings hymns at heaven's gate : For thy sweet love remembered such wealth brings, That then I scorn to change my state with kings. XXX. When to the sessions of sweet silent thought I summon up remembrance of things past, J sigh the lack of many a thing I sought, And with old woes new wail my dear time's waste : Then can I drown an eye, unused to flow, For precious friends hid in death's dateless night, And weep afresh love's long-since cancelled woe, And moan the expense of many a vanished sight Then can I grieve at grievances foregone, And heavily from woe to woe tell o'er The sad account of fore-bemoaned moan, Which I new pay, as if not paid before. But if the while I think on thee, dear friend. All losses are restored, and sorrows end. WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 2^ xxxin. Full many a glorious morning have I seen Flatter the mountain-tops with sovereign eye, Kissing with golden face the meadows green, Gilding pale streams with heavenly alchemy ; Anon permit the basest clouds to ride With ugly rack on his celestial face, And from the forlorn world his visage hide, Stealing unseen to west with this disgrace. Even so my sun one early morn did shine. With all triumphant splendor on my brow ; But, out, alack ! he was but one hour mine, The region cloud hath masked him from me now. Yet him for this my love no whit disdaineth ; Suns of the world may stain, when heaven's sun staineth. LII. So am I as the rich, whose blessed key Can bring him to his sweet up-locked treasure, The which he will not every hour survey, For blunting the fine point of seldom pleasure. Therefore are feasts so solemn and so rare, Since, seldom coming, in the long year set Like stones of worth they thinly placed are. Or captain jewels in the carcanet. So is the time that keeps you as my chest. Or as the wardrobe which the robe doth hide. To make some special instant special-blest, By new unfolding his imprisoned pride. Blessed are you, whose worthiness gives scope, Being had, to triumph, being lacked, to hope. LV. Not marble, nor the gilded monuments Of princes, shall outlive this powerful rhyme ; But you shall shine more bright in these contents Than unswept stone, besmeared with sluttish time. When wasteful war shall statues overturn, And broils root out the work of masonry. Nor Mars his sword, nor war's quick fire shall bum The living record of your memory. 28 HAND-BOOK OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. 'Gainst death and all-oblivious enmity Shall you pace forth : your praise shall still find room, Even in the eyes of all posterity, That wear this world out to the ending doom. So, till the judgment that yourself arise, You live in this, and dwell in lovers' eyes. LXXIIL That time of year thou mayst in me behold, When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang Upon those boughs which shake against the cold, — Bare, ruined choirs, where late the sweet birds sang. In me thou seest the twilight of such day As after sunset fadeth in the west. Which by and by black night doth take away, Death's second self, that seals up all in rest ; In me thou seest the glowing of such fire, That on the ashes of his youth doth lie. As the death-bed whereon it must expire. Consumed with that which it was nourished by. This thou perceiv'st, which makes thy love more strong, To love that well which thou must leave ere long. LXXVI. » Why is my verse so barren of new pride, So far from variation or quick change ? Why, with the time, do I not glance aside To new-found methods and to compounds strange ? Why write I still all one, ever the same. And keep invention in a noted weed,* That every word doth almost tell my name, Showing their birth, and where they did proceed ? O, know, sweet love, I always write of you, And you and love are still my argument ; So all my best is dressing old words new. Spending again what is already spent : For as the sun is daily new and old. So is my love, still telling what is told. 1 Well-known garb. IVeed anciently meant clothiug in general ; it is modem usag« that has limited it to mourning. WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. — ANONYMOUS. 29 CXVI. Let me not to the marriage of true minds Admit impediments. Love is not love Which alters when it alteration finds, Or bends with the remover to remove : O, no ; it is an ever-fixed mark, That looks on tempests, and is never shaken ; It is the star to every wandering bark, Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken. Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks Within his bending sickle's compass come ; Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, 3ut bears it out even to the edge of doom. If this be error, and upon me proved, I never writ, nor no man ever loved. ANONYMOUS. MY MIND TO ME A KINGDOM IS. [From Byrd's Psalms, Sonnets, &c, 1588.] My mind to me a kingdom is, Such perfect joy therein I find. That it excels all other bhss That God or nature hath assigned : Though much I want that most would hav«, Yet still my mind forbids to crave. No princely port, nor wealthy store, Nor force to win a victory ; No wily wit to salve a sore. No shape to win a loving eye ; To none of these I yield as thrall. For why, my mind despiseth all. I see that plenty surfeits oft. And hasty climbers soonest fall ; I see that such as are aloft. Mishap doth threaten most of all ; These get with toil, and keep with fear : Such cares my mind can never bear. 30 HAND-BOGK OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. I press to bear no haughty sway ; I wish no more than may suffice ; I do no more than well I may, Look what I want, my mind supplies ; Lo, thus I triumph like a king ; My mind's content with anything. I laugh not at another's loss, Nor grudge not at another's gain ; No worldly waves my mind can toss ; I brook that is another's bane ; I fear no foe, nor fawn on friend ; I loathe not life, nor dread mine end. My wealth is health and perfect ease, And conscience clear my chief defence ; I never seek by bribes to please. Nor by desert to give offence ; Thus do I live, thus will I die ; Would all do so as well as I ! SIR HENRY WOTTON. Sir Henry Wotton was bom in the year 1568, and died in 1639. He was for many years in public employments, and at the time of his death was provost of Eton College. A very interesting biography of him is contained in "Izaak Walton's Lives." The works of Wotton are not numerous, but the impression made by them and by his life is such as to secure for him the respect due to a wise, scholarly, and kindly man. THE CHARACTER OF A HAPPY LIFE. How happy is he born and taught, That serveth not another's will ; Whose armor is his honest thought, And simple truth his utmost skill ! Whose passions not his masters are. Whose soul is still prepared for death, Untied unto the worldly care Of public fame, or private breath ; SIR HENRY WOTTON. — RICHARD BARNFIELD. Who envies none that chance doth raise, Or vice ; who never understood How deepest wounds are given by praise ; Nor rules of state, but rules of good : Who hath his life from rumors freed. Whose conscience is his strong retreat ; Whose state can neither flatterers feed, Nor ruin make oppressors great ; Who God doth late and early pray, More of his grace than gifts to lend ; And entertains the harmless day With a religious book or friend ; This man is freed from servile bands Of hope to rise, or fear to fall ; Lord of himself, though not of lands ; And having nothing, yet hath all. RICHARD BARNFIELD. Richard Bamfield was bom about 1570, and was educated at Oxford. His place in literature is not an important one, and the quotation from his verses is given as one of the eariiest specimens of pastoral poetry, which, when joined to fitting music, has become the model of the English glee. As it fell upon a day. In the merry month of May, Sitting in a pleasant shade, Which a grove of myrtles made ; Beasts did leap, and birds did sing, Trees did grow, and plants did spring ; Everything did banish moan, Save the nightingale alone. She, poor bird, as all forlorn. Leaned her breast up-till a thorn ; And there sung the doleful'st ditty, That to hear it was great pity. Fie, fie, fie, now would she cry ; Teru, teru, by and by ; HAND-BOOK OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. That, to hear her so complain, Scarce I could from tears refrain ; For her griefs, so lively shown. Made me think upon mine own. Ah ! — thought I — thou mourn'st in vain ; None takes pity on thy pain : Senseless trees, they cannot hear thee ; Ruthless bears, they will not cheer thee. King Pandion he is dead ; All thy friends are lapped in lead ; All thy fellow-birds do sing, Careless of thy sorrowing ! Whilst as fickle Fortune smiled, Thou and I were both beguiled. Every one that flatters thee Is no friend in misery. Words are easy, like the wind ; Faithful friends are hard to find. Every man will be thy friend Whilst thou hast wherewith to spend ; But, if store of crowns be scant, No man will supply thy want. If that one be prodigal. Bountiful they will him call ; And with such-like flattering, " Pity but he were a king." If he be addict to vice. Quickly him they will entice ; But if fortune once do frown. Then farewell his great renown : They that fawned on him before Use his company no more. He that is thy friend indeed. He will help thee in thy need ; If thou sorrow, he will weep ; If thou wake, he cannot sleep : Thus, of every grief in heart, He with thee doth bear a part. These are certain signs to know Faithful friend from flattering foe. BEN JONSON. ^3 BEN JONSON. Benjamin (or, as he was in the habit of abridging his name, Ben) Jonson was bom in 1574, and died in 1637. He was reared in humble circumstances, but was educated at Cam- bridge, and maintained a high rank among the scholars of his time. His fame rests on his dramatic works, in which he is excelled only by Shakespeare. In person he was short and corpulent, and in disposition egotistical and envious, in spite of his very handsome tribute to his great rival. His career was marked by the usual vicissitudes of authorship. While he lived, his force of intellect, scholarship, wit, and knowledge of men made him an ac- knowledged leader. With all the hearty admiration expressed in Jonson's eulogy, the real supremacy of Shakespeare's genius was unsuspected. HER TRIUMPH. See the chariot at hand here of love, Wherein my lady rideth ! Each that draws is a swan or a dove, And well the car love guideth. As she goes, all hearts do duty Unto her beauty ; And enamoured do wish, so they might But enjoy such a sight, That they still were to run by her side. Through swords, through seas, whither she would ride. Do but look on her eyes, they do Hght All that love's world compriseth ! Do but look on her hair, it is bright As love's star when it riseth ! Do but mark, her forehead's smoother Than v/ords that soothe her ! And from her arched brows, such a grace Sheds itself through the face, As alone there triumphs to the life All the gain, all the good of the elements' strife. Have you seen but a bright lily grow. Before rude hands have touched it ? Have you marked but the fall of the snow Before the soil hath smutched it ? Have you felt the wool of the beaver, Or swan's down ever ? 3 34 HAND-BOOK OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. Or have smelled of the bud o' the brier ? Or the 'nard in the fire ? Or have tasted the bag of the bee ? O so white ! O so soft ! O so sweet is she ! EPITAPH ON THE COUNTESS OF PEMBROKE. Underneath this sable hearse Lies the subject of all verse, Sidney's sister, Pembroke's mother ; Death ! ere thou hast slain another, Learned, and fair, and good as she, Time shall throw a dart at thee. EPITAPH on ELIZABETH, L. H. Would'st thou hear what man can In a httle ? — reader, stay. Underneath this stone doth lie As much beauty as could die ; Which in life did harbor give To more virtue than doth live. If at all she had a fault, Leave it buried in this vault. One name was Elizabeth, The other let it sleep with death : Fitter, where it died, to tell. Than that it lived at all. Farewell ! to the memory of my BELOVED MASTER, WILLIAM SHAKE- SPEARE, and what he HATH LEFT US. To draw no envy, Shakespeare, on thy name, Am I thus ample to thy book and fame ; While I confess thy writings to be such. As neither man, nor Muse, can praise too much. BEN JONSON. 35 'Tis true, and all men's suffrage. But these ways Were not the paths I meant unto thy praise ; For silliest ignorance on these may light, Which, when it sounds at best, but echoes right ; Or blind affection, which doth ne'er advance The truth, but gropes, and urgeth all by chance ; Or crafty malice might pretend this praise. And think to ruin, where it seemed to raise. But thou art proof against them, and, indeed, Above the ill fortune of them, or the need. I therefore will begin : Soul of the age ! The applause ! delight ! the wonder of our stage ! My Shakespeare, rise ! I will not lodge thee by Chaucer, or Spenser, or bid Beaumont lie A little further off, to make thee room : Thou art a monument without a tomb, And art alive still, while thy book doth live. And we have wits to read, and praise to give. That I not mix thee so, my brain excuses, I mean with great, but disproportioned Muses : For if I thought my judgment were of years, I should commit thee surely with thy peers, And tell how far thou didst our Lily outshine, Or sporting Kyd, or Marlow's mighty line. And though thou hadst small Latin, and less Greek, From thence to honor thee, I will not seek For names ; but call forth thundering ^schylus, Euripides, and Sophocles to us, Pacuvius, Accius, him of Cordova dead, To live again, to hear thy buskin tread. And shake a stage : or when thy socks were on, Leave thee alone, for the comparison Of all that insolent Greece or haughty Rome Sent forth, or since did from their ashes come. Triumph, my Britain ! thou hast one to show. To whom all scenes of Europe homage owe. He was not of an age, but for all time ! And all the Muses still were in their prime. When, like Apollo, he came forth to warm Our ears, or like a Mercury to charm ! 30 HAND-BOOK OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. Nature herself was proud of his designs, And joyed to wear the dressing of his lines ! Which were so richly spun, and woven so fit. As, since, she will vouchsafe no other wit. The merry Greek, tart Aristophanes, Neat Terence, witty Plautus, now not please ; But antiquated and deserted lie. As they were not of Nature's family. Yet must I not give nature all ; thy art, My gentle Shakespeare, must enjoy a part. For though the poet's matter nature be. His art doth give the fashion ; and, that he Who casts to write a hving line, must sweat, (Such as thine are) and strike the second heat Upon the Muses' anvil ; turn the same. And himself with it, that he thinks to frame ; Or for the laurel, he may gain a scorn ; For a good poet's made, as well as born. And such wert thou ! Look how the father's face Lives in his issue, even so the race Of Shakespeare's mind and manners brightly shines In his well turned, and true filed lines ; In each of which he seems to shake a lance, As brandished at the eyes of ignorance. Sweet Swan of Avon ! what a sight it were To see thee in our water yet appear. And make those flights upon the banks of Thames That so did take Eliza and our James ! But stay, I see thee in the hemisphere Advanced, and made a constellation there ! Shine forth, thou Star of Poets, and with rage. Or influence, chide, or cheer the drooping stage, Which, since thy flight from hence, hath mourned like night. And despairs day, but for thy volume's light. THOMAS HEYWOOD. — JOHN FLETCHER. y] THOMAS HEYWOOD. Thomas Heywocxi, a native of Lincolnshire, was a prolific dramatist ; but little or noth- ing is now known of his personal history. He had written for the stage in 1596, and contin- ued writing down to 1640. The song here printed is from a play. love's good MORROWc Pack clouds away, and welcome day, With night we banish sorrow ; Sweet air, blow soft, larks, mount aloft, To give my love good morrow. Wings from the wind to please her mind, Notes from the lark I'll borrow ; Bird, prune thy wing, nightingale, sing, To give my love good morrow. Notes from them both I'll borrow. Wake from thy nest, robin redbreast, Sing, birds in every furrow ; And from each hill let music shrill Give my fair love good. morrow. Blackbird, and thrush, in every bush, Stare, hnnet, and cock-sparrow ! You, pretty elves, among yourselves, Sing my fair love good morrow. To give my love good morrow, Sing, birds, in every furrow. JOHN FLETCHER. John Fletcher is remembered best from his long and brilliant literary partnership with Francis Beaumont. As dramatic authors their names are inseparable ; and, indeed, it is a matter of considerable difi&culty to determine the share contributed by each to any of their plays. Fletcher had the more poetical and sensitive nature ; Beaumont had more wit and more force. Fletcher was bom in 1576, and died of the plague in 1625. The first poetical ex- tract here inserted is from a play called Tfie Nice Valor, in which Beaumont had no share. MELANCHOLY. [From The Nice Valor.] Hence, all you vain delights, As short as are the nights Wherein you spend your folly ! There's nought in this life sweet, If man were wise to see't But only melancholy ! 38 HAND-BOOK OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. Welcome, folded arms, and fixed eyes, A sigh that piercing mortifies, A look that's fastened to the ground, A tongue chained up, without a sound ! Fountain heads, and pathless groves. Places which pale passion loves ! Moonlight walks, when all the fowls Are warmly housed, save bats and owls ! A midnight bell, a parting groan ! These are the sounds we feed upon ; Then stretch our bones in a still gloomy valley : Nothing's so dainty-sweet as lovely melancholy. TO SLEEP. [From Valentinian.] Care-charming Sleep, thou easer of all woes. Brother to Death, sweetly thyself dispose On this afflicted prince : fall like a cloud In gentle showers ; give nothing that is loud Or painful to his slumbers ; easy, light, And as a purling stream, thou son of night. Pass by his troubled senses, sing his pain Like hollow murmuring wind or gentle rain. Into this prince, gently, O, gently slide, And kiss him into slumbers like a bride. ROBERT HERRICK. Robert Herrick, bom in London in 1591, was educated for the church, and officiated in a rural parish for about twenty years, when, the civil war breaking out, he was ejected from his living, and did not resume his clerical functions until the accession of Charles II. Most of his verses are rather inconsistent with the profession he had chosen. Without much depth of feeling or splendor of imagery, his poems are tender and melodious, and leave an impression of grace which it is difficult to analyze. He died in 1674. TO DAFFODILS. Fair daffodils, we weep to see You haste away so soon ; As yet the early-rising sun Has not attained his noon : ROBERT HERRICK. 39 Stay, stay, Until the hastening day Has run But to the even-song ; And having prayed together, we Will go with you along ! We have short time to stay as you ; We have as short a spring ; As quick a growth to meet decay, As you or anything : We die. As your hours do ; and dry Away Like to the summer's rain, Or as the pearls of morning-dew, Ne'er to be found again. TO PRIMROSES, FILLED WITH MORNING DEW. Why do ye weep, sweet babes .'' Can tears Speak grief in you. Who were but born Just as the modest morn Teemed her refreshing dew ? Alas ! you have not known that shower That mars a flower. Nor felt the unkind Breath of a blasting wind ; Nor are ye worn with years, Or warped as we. Who think it strange to see Such pretty flowers, like to orphans young, Speaking by tears before ye have a tongue. Speak, whimpering younglings, and make known The reason why Ye droop and weep ; Is it for want of sleep, Or childish lullaby ? 40 HAND-BOOK OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. Or that ye have not seen as yet The violet ? Or brought a kiss From that sweet heart to this ? No, no ; this sorrow shown By your tears shed, Would have this lecture read — " That things of greatest, so of meanest worth, Conceived with grief are, and with tears brought forth.' . GEORGE HERBERT. George Herbert was a clergyman whom a few felicitous poems and a saintly life have made immortal in the religious world. " Holy George Herbert " is the reverent and affec- tionate title by which he was known. He was bom in 1593, and died in 1632. A memoir of him is included in the well-known " Lives " by Izaak Walton. Much as we admire the sweet serenity of some of the stanzas, we can but wonder at the tasteless comparison to "seasoned timber " in the lasL Similar inequalities are found in all his poems. SUNDAY. O DAIT most calm, most bright f The fruit of this, the next world's bud, The indorsement of supreme delight, Writ by a Friend, and with his blood ; The couch of time, carets balm and bay ; The week were dark, but for thy light ; Thy torch doth show the way. The other days and thou Make up one man ; whose face thoK art. Knocking at heaven with thy brow : The workydays are the back-part ; ' The burden of the week lies there. Making the whole to stoop and bow, Till thy release appear. Man had strafght forward gone To endless death : but thou dost pull And turn us round, to look on One, Whom, if we were not very dull, / GEORGE HERBERT. 4^ We could not choose but look on still ; Since there is no place so alone, The which he doth not fill. Sundays the pillars are, On which heaven's palace arched lies : The other days fill up the spare And hollow room with vanities. They are the fruitful beds and borders In God's rich garden : that is bare. Which parts their ranks and orders. The Sundays of man's life, Threaded together on Time's string, Make bracelets to adorn the wife Of the eternal glorious King. On Sunday heaven's gate stands ope ; Blessings are plentiful and rife — More plentiful than hope. This day my Saviour rose. And did enclose this light for his ; That, as each beast his manger knows, Man might not of his fodder miss. Christ hath took in this piece of ground, And made a garden there for those Who want herbs for their wound. Thou art a day of mirth : And where the week-days trail on ground, Thy flight is higher, as thy birth : O let me take thee at the bound, Leaping with thee from seven to seven. Till that we both, being tossed from earth, Fly hand in hand to heaven ! VIRTUE. Sweet day ! so cool, so calm, so bright, The bridal of the earth and sky : The dews shall weep thy fall to night ; For thou must die. 42 HAND-BOOK OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. Sweet rose ! whose hue, angry and brave, Bids the rash gazer wipe his eye, Thy root is ever in its grave, And thou must die. Sweet spring ! full of sweet days and roses, A box where sweets compacted lie. Thy music shows ye have your closes. And all must die. Only a sweet and virtuous soul. Like seasoned timber, never gives ; But, though the whole world turn to coal, Then chiefly lives. EDMUND WALLER. Edmund Waller was bom in 1605, and died in 1687. He inherited an ample fortune