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A Vifion upon this conceipt of the Faery Queene. ME thought I faw the grave where Laura lay, Within that Temple where the vestall flame

* The two Sonnets figned W. R. are understood to be written by Sir Walter Raleigh, who was certainly a poet of no mean fame: The Verfes figned Hobynoll are the very elegant production of Gabriel Harvey, by which fignature he is defcribed in the Shepherd's Calendar: The Poem figned R. S. may be attributed to Robert Southwell, or Richard Stanyhurst, or Richard Smith, or Richard Stapleton, who were poetical writers contemporary with Spenfer; and, of whom, Stapleton and Smith are known as authors of other commendatory verfes; yet Mr. Upton would affign this little Poem to Robert Sackville, eldeft fon of Lord Buckhurst, the Sackvilles (he fays) being not only patrons of learned men, but learned themfelves: I am at a lofs to whom to afcribe the Poem figned H. B., and can offer no other opinion in refpect to the author of the next, fubfcribed W. L., than what the compiler of the Bibliographia Poetica has given, that it might be William Lifle, the poetical tranflator of part of Du Bartas, and (which the compiler of the Bib. Poet. appears not to have known) of part of Heliodorus: The laft Poem bears a fignature affumed by feveral writers in the age of Elizabeth; and I am unable to fix on the author. TODD. Ver. 1. Me thought I faw &c.] Mr. Warton has noticed Milton's poffible obligation to this elegant Sonnet of Sir Walter Raleigh, in his Sonnet on his deceased wife:

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Methought I faw my late efpoufed faint &c." But it has efcaped Mr. Warton's obfervation, that there is a pleafing Sonnet, among others, prefixed to Drayton's Matilda, edit. 1594, entitled The vifion of Matilda, and figned H. G. Efquire, which obviously requires to be mentioned:

"Methought I faw vpon Matildas tombe
"Her wofull ghoft, &c." TODD.

Was wont to burne; and paffing by that way
To fee that buried duft of living fame,

Whose tomb faire Love, and fairer Virtue kept;
All fuddeinly I faw the Faery Queene :

At whose approch the foule of Petrarke wept,
And from thenceforth those Graces were not feene;
(For they this Queene attended;) in whofe fteed
Oblivion laid him down on Lauras herse :
Hereat the hardeft ftones were feene to bleed,
And grones of buried ghoftes the hevens did perfe:
Where Homers fpright did tremble all for griefe,
And curft th' acceffe of that celeftiall Theife.

Another of the fame.

W. R.

THE prayfe of meaner wits this Worke like profit brings,

As doth the Cuckoes fong delight when Philumena

fings.

If thou haft formed right true Vertues face herein, Vertue herfelfe can beft difcerne to whom they written bin.

If thou haft Beauty prayfd, let Her fole lookes divine

Judge if ought therein be amis, and mend it by Her

eine.

Ver. 10. Oblivion laid him down &c.] We are apt at first to refer "him down" to Petrarke, "Oblivion laid Petrarke down;" while the meaning is, “ Oblivion laid himself down." There is a particular beauty in the allegorical turn of this little composition in praise of the Faerie Queene, as it imitates the manner of the author whom it compliments. T. WARTON.

If Chaftitie want ought, or Temperaunce her dew, Behold Her Princely mind aright, and write thy Queene anew.

Meane while She fhall perceive, how far Her vertues fore

Above the reach of all that live, or fuch as wrote of yore:

And thereby will excufe and favour thy good will; Whofe vertue can not be expreft but by an Angels

quill.

Of me no lines are lov'd, nor letters are of price, (Of all which speak our English tongue,) but those of thy device.

W. R

To the learned Shepheard.

COLLYN, I fee, by thy new taken taske,

Some facred fury hath enricht thy braynes, That leades thy Muse in haughty verse to maske, And loath the layes that longs to lowly fwaynes; That liftes thy notes from Shepheardes unto Kinges: So like the lively Larke that mounting finges.

Thy lovely Rofalinde feemes now forlorne;
And all thy gentle flockes forgotten quight:
Thy chaunged hart now holdes thy pypes in fcorne,
Those prety pypes that did thy mates delight;
Those trufty mates, that loved thee fo well;
Whom thou gav'ft mirth, as they gave thee the bell.

Yet, as thou earft with thy fweete roundelayes
Didft ftirre to glee our laddes, in homely bowers;
So moughtst thou now in these refyned layes
Delight the daintie eares of higher powers.
And fo mought they, in their deepe skanning skill,
Alow and grace our Collyns flowing quill.

And faire befall that Faery Queene of thine! In whofe faire eyes Love linckt with Vertue. fittes;

Enfufing, by those bewties fyers divine,

Such high conceites into thy humble wittes,
As raised hath poore Paftors oaten reedes
From rufticke tunes, to chaunt heroique deedes.

So mought thy Redcroffe Knight with happy hand Victorious be in that faire Ilands right,

(Which thou doft vayle in type of Faery land,) Elizas bleffed field, that Albion hight:

That shieldes her friendes, and warres her mightie

foes,

Yet ftill with people, peace, and plentie, flowes.

But, iolly fhepheard, though with pleasing stile Thou feast the humour of the courtly trayne; Let not conceipt thy fettled fence beguile,

Ne daunted be through envy, or difdaine. Subiect thy doome to Her empyring fpright, From whence thy Mufe, and all the world, takes light, HOBYNOLL.

FAYRE Thamis ftreame, that from Ludds ftately

towne

Runft paying tribute to the ocean feas,

Let all thy Nymphes and Syrens of renowne
Be filent, whyle this Bryttane Orpheus playes:
Nere thy sweet banks there lives that facred Crowne,
Whose hand ftrowes palme and never-dying bayes.
Let all at once, with thy foft murmuring fowne,
Present her with this worthy Poets prayes:
For he hath taught hye drifts in Shepherdes weedes,
And deepe conceites now finges in Faeries deedes.

R. S.

GRAVE Muses, march in triumph and with prayfes;
Our Goddeffe here hath given you leave to land;
And biddes this rare difpenfer of your graces
Bow downe his brow unto her facred hand.
Deferte findes dew in that moft princely doome,
In whofe fweete breft are all the Mufes bredde:
So did that great Auguftus erft in Roome
With leaves of fame adorne his Poets hedde.
Faire be the guerdon of your Faery Queene,
Even of the faireft that the world hath feene!

H. B.

WHEN ftout Achilles heard of Helens rape,
And what revenge the States of Greece devis'd;
Thinking by fleight the fatall warres to scape,
In womans weedes himselfe he then disguis'd:
But this devife Ulyffes foone did fpy,

And brought him forth, the chaunce of warre to try.

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