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The ugly bear now mindeth not the stake,

Nor how the cruel mastiffs do him tear; The stag lay still unroused from the brake ;

The foamy boar feared not the hunter's spear;

All thing was still, in desert, bush, and brear. With quiet heart, now from their travels rest, Soundly they sleep, in midst of all their rest.

These are very fine stanzas, but they want originality. The original must be sought in the Æneid of Virgil.

« Nox erat, et placidum carpebant fessa soporem
Corpora per terras, silvæque et sæva quierant
Æquora; cùm medio volvuntur sidera lapsi ;
Cùm tacet omnis ager; pecudes, pictæque volucres,
Quæque lacus late liquidos, quæque aspera dumis.
Rura tenent, sómno positæ sub nocte silenti
Lenibant curas, et corda oblita labòrum."

(Lib. IV. 523.) This passage is not only poetical in itself, but has perhaps, in an especial manner, been the cause, as Falstaff would say, of poetry in others. Besides our author and his predecessor Surrey, both Ariosto and Tasso have made free with it. The imitation in the latter is so close, that a translation of it will serve a double purpose, and give the unlearned reader a very clear conception of the original.

'Twas night; the breathing winds, the waters cease,
And through the still creation all is peace,
Each being that has life, the scaly train
That skim the rivers or the boundless main,
The beasts that roam in herds, or far froin men,
Tenant in trackless wilds their lonely den,
Wrapt in the arms of sweet oblivion lie;
The feathered tribes, the wanderers of the sky,
Beneath the silence of the secret gloom
Close their light wings, and fold their painted plume;
All sought repose, with daily toil oppressed,
They eased their wearied hearts, and steeped their cares in


The passage in Tasso, of which this is a transla was written at a period somewhat later than the a imitation by Sackville.

“ Alas! so all things now do hold their peace !

Heaven and earth disturbing in nothing;
The beasts do sleep, the birds their songs do cease

The nightis chair the stars about doth bring.
Calm is the sea; the waves work less and less.”

No dreams do drench them of the night
Of foes, that would them slay or bite;
As hounds to hunt them at the tail;
Or men force them through hill and dale :
The sheep then dreams not of the wolf;
The shipman forces not the gulf;
The lamb thinks not the butcher's knife
Should then bereave him of his life.”
“ The heaven shews lively art and hue,
Of sundry shapes, and colours new,
And lauglis upon the earth
“ And tell in songs full merrily,
How they have slept full quietly,
That night, about their mother's sides,
And when they have sung more besides,

Then fall they to their mother's breast.” SURRE It is evident from numerous passages in his poe that Sackville had studied the writings of his in predecessor with much assiduity, and had formed poetic style from that of Surrey, In the above insta he has certainly extended this licence too far, and i fairly be taxed with plagiarism.

It is but justice to our poet to remark, th at the t last extracts are taken from a poem inserted by Nott in his late edition of the works of Surrey, for first time, and claimed by him for that author. 1 claim has been made upon slight grounds, and been disputed by a writer in the Edinburgh Revi It was first printed among a collection by uncert authors. The reviewer is inclined to give it to L Vaux. May it not have been written by Sackv himself, many of whose poems produced, as W assures us, in early life, have been lost, or rem uuclaimed ?

The Restlessness of Guilt; from the same.
Well gave that judge his doom upon the death

Of Titus Clelius, that in bed was slain :
When every wight the cruel murder layeth
To his two sons, that in bis chamber layen :

The judge, that by the proof perceived plain
That they were found fast sleeping in their bed,
Hath deemed them guiltless of that blood y-shed.
He thought it could not be, that they which brake

The laws of God and man in such outrage, Could so forthwith themselves to sleep betake:

He rather thought the horror and the rage

Of such an heinous guilt, could never swage;
Nor ever suffer them to sleep or rest,
Or dreadless breathe one breath out of their breast.

gnaws the grief of conscience evermore,
And in the heart it is so deep y-grave,
That they may neither sleepinor rest therefore,

Nor think one thought, but on the dread they have.

Still to the death fortossed with the wave
Of restless woe, in terror and despair,
They lead a life continually in fear.
Like to the deer that stricken with a dart,

Withdraws himself into some secret place,*
And feeling green the wound about his heart,
Startles with


'till he fall on the grass, And in great fear lies gasping there a space; Forth braying sighs, as though each pang had brought The present death, which he doth dread so oft. * Then as the stricken deer withdraws himself alone, So I do seek some secret place, where I may make my mdan.




BORN 1533-DIED 1603.

Let Genovicum* boast, for boast she may,
The birth of great Eliza,—Huil my queen,
And yet I'll call thee by a dearer name, -


This illustrious native of Kent was born at Greenwich, in 1533. “The seventh of September,” says John Stow, being Sunday, between three and four of the clock, at afternoon, the queen was delivered of fair lady, for whose good deliverance, Te Deum was sung incontinently, and great preparation was made for the christening.” The ceremonials of this christening, from which Shakespeare has made a pageant in his play of Henry the eighth, are given at full by the honest chronicler, whose principal merit consists in his accurate descriptions of such scenes, in which he seems to have delighted.

This princess, if we may credit her bistorians, gave early proof of her talent for acquiring languages. “ When she was but twelve years old,” says Mr. Ballard, “she translated from the English tongue, into Latin, French, and Italian, certain prayers and meditations, selected for that purpose, by Queen Catherine. This work was dedicated to the King, her father, and dated at Hatfield, Dec. 30th, 1545.

* Greenwich.

She was instructed in the learned languages, first by William Grindall, who died when she was about sixteen, and afterwards by the celebrated Roger Ascham,* who, in his Schoolmaster, 1570, speaks of Queen Elizabeth's literary pursuits in the following terms :—“ It is to your shame, you young gentlemen of England, that one maid should go beyond you all in excellency of learning, and knowledge of divers tongues. Point out six of the best given gentlemen of this court, and they altogether, spend not so much time, bestow not so many hours daily, orderly and constantly, for the increase of learning and knowledge, as doth the Queen's majesty herself. Yea, I believe, that beside her perfect readiness in Latin, French, and Spanish she readeth here at Windsor more Greek every day, than some Prebendary of this church, doth Latin in a whole week.”

Bizari, an Italian writer, bears testimony to the absolute command which the learned queen had over his native tongue. Scaliger tells us that she spoke five .languages, and knew more than all the great men then living. Sir Henry Savile in his dedication of Tacitus, speaks in terms of the highest commendation of several translations from classical authors, which she had made, some of which are extant at the present day. “Her ready responses in Latin,” says Lord Orford, to the compliments of the University of Cambridge, many

was a

* “ Mr. Ascham,” says Fuller; in his Holy State, good Schoolmaster to her, but affliction was a better, so that it is hard to say whether she was more happy in having a crown $o soon, or in having it no sooner, till affliction had first laid in her a low, (and therefore sure) foundation of humility,

for highness to be afterwards built thereupon.”

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