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in every other department, his short life was one of bright promise rather than of wonderful achievement; and perhaps at the age of thirty-two the grave never closed over any man who combined such universal accomplishment, with so many amiable qualities, as this darling of the people of England. His learned tutor had recorded on his tomb, that “ he was the tutor of Sir Philip Sydney;" and his friend Sir Fulke Greville, Lord Brooke, who long survived Sydney, had this inscription put on his monument :-“ Fulke Greville, servant of Queen Elizabeth, counsellor to King James, and friend of Sir Philip Sydney.” “ The life of Sir Philip Sydney,” says Mr Campbell," was poetry put in action.”
Is she sick ? why then be sure
He that, after ten denials,
Take me to thee, and thee to me
Night hath closed all in her cloak,
Take me, &c.
Better place no wit can find,
Take me, &c.
SONNET. BECAUSE I breathe not love to every one,
Nor do not use such colours for to wear,
Nor nourish special locks of vowed hair, Nor give each speech a full point of a groan ;
The courtly nymphs, acquainted with the moan
Of them, who in their lips love's standards bear
Where he ? (say they of me) now dare I swear He cannot love! No, no ; let him alone.
And think so still ! so Stella know my mind ;
Profess indeed I do not Cupid's art : But you, fair maids, at length this true shall find,
That his right badge is but worn in the heart :
Dumb swans, not chirping pies, do lovers prove ; They love indeed, who quake to say they love.
[From the Arcadia.]
COME, sleep, O sleep, the certain knot of peace,
With shield of proof shield me from out the
prease (a) Of those fierce darts despair doth at me throw : O make in me those civil wars to cease ! I will good tribute pay if thou do so.
Take thou of me smooth pillows, sweetest bed,
(a) Press, or crowd.
Move not thy heavy grace, thou shalt in me
SIR WALTER RALEIGH.
SIR WALTER RALEIGH (a) was born in Devonshire in 1552,
and executed in Old Palace Yard, on the 29th October, 1618.
THE SHEPHERD TO THE FLOWERS.
SWEET violets, Love's Paradise, that spread Your gracious odours, which you couched bear
Within your paly faces, Upon the gentle wing of some calm-breathing wind,
That plays amidst the plain !
If, by the favour of propitious stars you gain Such grace, as in my lady's bosom place to find,
Be proud to touch those places : And when her warmth your moisture forth doth
wear, Whereby her dainty parts are sweetly fed, You, honours of the flowery meads, I pray,
You pretty daughters of the earth and sun, With mild and seemly breathing straight display
My bitter sighs, that have my heart undone !
(a) The finest specimen of Raleigh’s verse that remains, if it be his, is given in the Specimens of Sacred and Serious Poetry, with a biographical notice.
THE NYMPH's REPLY TO THE
* PASSIONATE SHEPHERD.
If that the world and love were young,
But time drives flocks from field to fold,
The flowers do fade, and wanton fields
Thy gowns, thy shoes, thy beds of roses, Thy cap, thy kirtle, and thy posies, Soon break, soon wither, soon forgotten, In folly ripe, in reason rotten.
Thy belt of straw, and ivy buds,
But could youth last, and love still breed,
* Marlowe's song, so called.