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edition, differently arranged, was published in 1593. His next work. was a tract, entitled An Apologie for Poetrie,' first published in 1595, and afterwards reprinted with the title of The Defence of Poesie.' In this short treatise Sidney repelled the objections brought by the Puritans of his age against the poets, whom they called 'caterpillars of the commonwealth! This production, though written with the partiality of a poet, has been deservedly admired for the beauty of its style and general soundness of its reasoning. In 1581, the character of his uncle, the celebrated Earl of Leicester, having been attacked in a publication called 'Leicester's Commonwealth,' Sidney wrote a reply, in which, although the heaviest accusations were passed over in silence, he did not scruple to address his opponent in such terms as the following: 'But to thee I say, thou therein liest in thy throat, which I will be ready to justify upon thee in any place of Europe, where thou wilt assign me a free place of coming, as within three months after the publishing hereof I may understand thy mind.' This performance seems to have proved unsatisfactory to Leicester and his friends, as it was not printed till near the middle of the eighteenth century. In 1583 he was knighted by Queen Elizabeth. Desirous of active employment, Sidney next contemplated an expedition, with Sir Francis Drake, against the Spanish settlements in America; but this intention was frustrated by a peremptory mandate from the queen. In 1585, it is said, he was named one of the candidates for the crown of Poland, at that time vacant; on which occasion Elizabeth again threw o stacles in the way, being afraid to lose the jewel of her times.' He was not, however, long permitted to remain unemployed; for, in the same year, Elizabeth having determined to send military assistance to the Protestant inhabitants of the Netherlands, then suffering under the oppressive measures of the Spaniards, he was appointed governor of Flushing, one of the towns ceded to the English in return for this aid. Soon afterwards, the Earl of Leicester, with an army of 6000 men, went over to the Netherlands, where he was joined by Sir Philip as general of the horse. The conduct of the earl in this war was highly imprudent, and such as to call forth repeated expressions of dissatisfaction from his nephew Philip. The military exploits of the latter were highly honourable to him; in particular, he succeeded in taking the town of Axel in 1586. His career, however, was destined to be short; for having, in September of the same year, accidentally encountered a detachment of the Spanish army at Zutphen, he received a wound, which in a few weeks proved mortal. As he was carried from the field, a well-known incident occurred, by which the generosity of his nature was strongly displayed. Being overcome with thirst from excessive bleeding and fatigue, he called for water, which was accordingly brought to him. At the moment he was lifting it to his mouth, a poor soldier was carried by desperately wounded, who fixed his eyes eagerly on the cup. Sidney, observing this, instantly de

livered the beverage to him, saying: 'Thy necessity is yet greater than mine.' His death, which took place on the 19th of October, 1586, at the early age of thirty-two, was deeply and extensively lamented, both at home and abroad. His bravery and chivalrous magnanimity-his grace and polish of manner-the purity of his morals-his learning and refinement of taste-had procured for him love and esteem wherever he was known. By the direction of Elizabeth, his remains were conveyed to London, and honoured with a public funeral in the cathedral of St. Paul's.

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Of the poetry of Sir Phil p Sidney, we have spoken in a former page. It is almost exclusively as a prose writer that he deserves honourable mention in a history of English literature; and in judging of his merits, we ought to bear in mind the early age at which he was cut off. His romance of 'Arcadia' was so universally read and admired in the reigns of Elizabeth and her successor, that in 1633 it had reached an eighth edition. Subsequently, however, it fell into comparative neglect, which, during the last century, the contemptuous terms in which it was spoken of by Horace Walpole contributed not a little to perpetuate. By Walpole the work is characterised as a tedious, lamentable, pedantic, pastoral romance, which the patience of a young virgin in love cannot now wade through And the judgment more recently pronounced by Dr. Drake and Hazlitt is almost equally unfavourable. On the other hand, Sidney has found a fervent admirer in another modern writer, who highly extols the 'Arcadia' in the second volume of the 'Retrospective Review.' A middle course is steered by Dr. Zuch, who, in his Memoirs of Sidney, published in 1808, while he admits that changes in taste, manners, and opinions, have rendered the 'Arcadia' unsuitable to modern readers, maintains that there are passages in this work exquisitely beautiful-useful observations on life and manners-a variety and accurate discrimination of characters-fine sentiments expressed in strong and adequate terms--animated descriptions, equal to any that occur in the ancient or modern poets-sage lessons of morality, and judicious reflections on government and policy.' This does more than justice to the Arcadia,' and its former high reputation is, doubtless, in a great degree attributable to the personal popularity of its author, and to the scarcity of works of prose fiction in the days of Elizabeth. But to whatever cause the admiration with which it was received may be ascribed, there can hardly be a question, that a work so extensively perused must have contributed not a little to fix the English tongue, and to form that vigorous and imaginative style which characterises the literature of the beginning and middle of the seventeenth century. Notwithstanding the occasional over-inflation and pedantry of his style, Sidney was, what Cowper felicitously calls him, a 'warbler of poetic prose.'

In his personal character, Sidney, like most men of high sensibility and poetic feeling, shewed a tendency to melancholy and solitude.

His chief fault seems to have been impetuosity of temper, an illustration of which has already been given from his reply to 'Leicester's Commonwealth.' The same trait appears in the following lettercontaining what proved to be a groundless accusation-which he wrote in 1578 to the secretary of his father, then Lord-deputy of Ireland:

'MR. MOLYNEUX-Few words are best. My letters to my father have come to the eyes of some. Neither can I condemn any but you for it. If it be so, you have played the very knave with me; and so I will make you know, if I have good proof of it. But that for so much as is past. For that is to come, I assure you before God, that if ever I know you do so much as read any letter I write to my father, without his commandment, or my consent, I will thrust my dagger into you. And trust to it, for I speak it in earnest. In the meantime, farewell."

Of this 'jewel of Queen Elizabeth's reign,' a relic was exhibited before the Wilts Archæological Society at Salisbury in September 1854. Between the leaves of a copy of the Arcadia'-unopened perhaps for a century and a half-in the library at Wilton House, were found wrapped up a lock of Queen Elizabeth's hair, and some complimentary lines addressed by Sidney when very young-if we may rely on the date given-to the Maiden Queen. The hair was soft and bright, of a light-brown colour, incliuing to red, and on the paper inclosing it was written: This lock of Queen Elizabeth's own hair was presented to Sir Philip Sidney by her Majesty's owne faire hands, on which he made these verses, and gave them to the queen on his bended knee Anno Domini 1573.' And pinned to this was another paper, on which, written in a different hand-said to be Sidney's own-were the verses:

Her inward worth all outward show transcends,
Envy her merits with regret commends;

Like sparkling gems her virtues draw the sight,

And in her conduct she is alwaies bright.

When she imparts her thoughts, her words have force,

And sense and wisdom flow in sweet discourse.

Of the following extracts, three are from Sidney's 'Arcadia,' and the fourth from his Detence of Poesie :'

A Tempest.

There arose even with the sun a veil of dark clouds before his face, which shortly, like ink poured into water, had blacked over all the face of heaven, preparing, as it were, a mournful stage for a tragedy to be played on. For, forthwith the winds began to speak louder, and, as in a tumultuous kingdom, to think themselves fittest instruments of comniandment; and blowing whole storms of hail and rain upon them, they were sooner in danger than they could almost bethink themselves of change. For then the traitorous sea began to swell in pride against the afflicted navy, under which, while the heaven favoured them, it had lain so calmly, making mountains of itself, over which the tossed and tottering ship should climb, to be straight carried down again to a pit of hellish darkness, with such cruel blows against the sides of the ship, that, which way soever it went, was still in his malice, that there was left neither power to stay nor way to escape. And shortly had it so dissevered the loving company, which the day before had tarried together, that most of them never met again, but were swallowed up in his never-satisfied mouth.

Description of Arcadia.

There were hills which garnished their proud heights with stately trees; humble valleys, whose base estate seemed comforted with the refreshing of silver rivers; meadows, enamelled with all sorts of eye-pleasing flowers; thickets, which being lined with most pleasant shade, were witnessed so too, by the cheerful disposition of many well-tuned birds; each pasture stored with sheep, feeding with sober security; while the pretty lambs, with bleating oratory, craved the dam's comfort; here a shepherd's boy piping, as though he should never be old; there a young shepherdess knitting, and withal singing; and it seemed that her voice comforted her hands to work, and her hands kept time to her voice-music.

A Stag Hunt.

Then went thy together abroad, the good Kalander entertaining them with pleasant discoursing-how well he loved the sport of hunting when he was a young man, how much in the comparison thereof he disdained all chamber delights, that the sun (how great a journey soever he had to make) could never prevent him with carliness, nor the moon, with her sober countenance, dissuade him from watching till midnight for the deer's feeding. O, said he, you will never live to my age, without you keep yourselves in breath with exercise, and in heart with joyfulness; too much thinking doth consume the spirit; and oft it falls out, that, while one thinks too much of his doing, he leaves to do the effect of his thinking. Then spared he not to remember, how much Arcadia was changed since his youth; activity and good fellowship being nothing in the price it was then held in; but, according to the nature of the old-growing world, still worse and worse. Then would he tell them stories of such gallants as he had known; and so, with pleasant company, beguiled the time's haste, and shortened the way's length, till they came to the side of the wood, where the hounds were in couples, staying their coming, but with a whining accent craving liberty; many of them in colour and marks so resembling, that it shewed they were of one kind. The huntsmen handsomely attired in their green liveries, as though they were children of summer, with staves in their hands to beat the guiltless earth, when the hounds were at a fault; and with horns about their necks, to sound an alarum upon a silly fugitive: the hounds were straight uncoupled, and ere long the stag thought it better to trust to the nimbleness of his feet than to the slender fortification of his lodging; but even his feet betrayed him; for, howsoever they went, they themselves uttered themselves to the scent of their enemies, who one taking it of another, and sometimes believing the wind's advertisement, sometimes the view of their faithful counsellors the huntsmen, with open mouths, then dedounced war, when the war was already begun. Their cry being composed of so well-sorted mouths, that any man would perceive therein some kind of proportion, but the skilful woodmen did find a music. Then delight and variety of opinion drew the horsemen sundry ways, yet cheering their hounds with voice and horn, kept still as it were together. The wood seemed to conspire with them against his own citizens, dispersing their noise through all his quarters; and even the nymph Echo left to bewail the loss of Narcissus, and became a hunter. But the stag was in the end so hotly pursued, that, leaving his flight, he was driven to make courage of despair; and so turning his head, made the hounds, with change of speech, to testify that he was at a bay: as if from hot pursuit of their enemy, they were suddenly come to a parley.

Praise of Poetry.

The philosopher sheweth you the way, he informeth you of the particularities, as well of the tediousness of the way, as of the pleasant lodging you shall have when your journey is ended, as of the many by-turnings that may divert you from your way; but this is to no man, but to him that will read him, and read him with attentive studious painfulness; which constant desire whosoever hath in him, hath already passed half the hardness of the way, and therefore is beholden to the philosopher but for the other half. Nay, truly, learned men have learnedly thought, that where once reason hath so much overmastered passion, as that the mind hath a free desire to do well, the inward light each man hath in itself is as good as a philosopher's

book; since in nature we know it is well to do well, and what is well and what is evil, although not in the words of art which philosophers bestow upon us; for out of natural conceit the philosophers drew it. But to be moved to do that which we know, or to be moved with desire to know, hoc opus hic labor est, ['this is the grand difficulty'].

Now, therein, of all sciences-I speak still of human, and according to the human conceit-is our poet the monarch. For he doth not only shew the way, but giveth so sweet a prospect into the way, as will entice any man to enter into it. Nay, he doth, as if your journey should lie through a fair vineyard, at the very first, give you a cluster of grapes; that, full of that taste, you may long to pass further. He beginneth not with obscure definitions; which must blur the margin with interpretations, and load the memory with doubtfulness; but he cometh to you with words set in delightful proportion, either accompanied with, or prepared for, the well-enchanting skill of music; and with a tale, forsooth, he cometh unto you, with a tale which holdeth chiidren from play, and old men from the chimney-corner; and pretending no more, doth intend the winning of the mind from wickedness to virtue; even as the child is often brought to take most wholesome things, by hiding them in such other as have a pleasant taste; which, if one should begin to tell them the nature of the aloes or rhubarbarum they should receive, would sooner take their physic at their ears than their mouth. So is it in men-most of whom are childish in the best things, till they be cradled in their graves. Glad they will be to hear the tales of Hercules, Achilles, Cyrus, Æneas; and hearing them, must needs hear the right description of wisdom, valour, and justice; which, if they had been barely-that is to say, philsophicallyset out, they would swear they be brought to school again.

LORD BURLEIGH.

Another of the favourites of Queen Elizabeth was WILLIAM CECIL, LORD BURLEIGH, who, for forty years, ably and faithfully served her in the capacity of secretary of state. He died in 1598, at the age of seventy-eight. As a minister, this celebrated individual was distinguished for wariness, application, sagacity, calmness, and a degree of closeness which sometimes degenerated into hypocrisy. Most of these qualities characterised also what is, properly speaking, his sole literary production; namely, Precepts or Directions for the Well Ordering and Carriage of a Man's Life.' These precepts were addressed to his son, Robert Cecil, afterwards Earl of Salisbury.

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Choice of a Wife.

When it shall please God to bring thee to man's estate, use great providence and circumspection in choosing thy wife. For from thence will spring all thy future good or evil. And it is an action of life like unto a stratagem of war, wherein a man can err but once. If thy estate be good, match near home and at leisure; if weak, far off and quickly. Inquire diligently of her disposition, and how her parents have been inclined in their youth. Let her not be poor, how generous soever. For a man can buy nothing in the market with gentility. Nor choose a base and uncomely creature altogether for wealth; for it will cause contempt in others, and loathing in thee. Neither make choice of a dwarf or a fool; for, by the one thou shalt beget a race of pigmies; the other will be thy continual disgrace, and it will yirke thee to hear her talk. For thou shalt find it, to thy great grief, that there is nothing more fulsome than a she-fool.

Domestic Economy.

And touching the guiding of thy house, let thy hospitality be moderate, and, according to the means of thy estate, rather plentiful than sparing, but not costly. For I never knew any man grow poor by keeping an orderly table. But some cousume themselves through secret vices, and their hospitality bears the blame. But

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