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wato me, that it moved me to require Anarius to defer our combat till another day, and now to perform the duties of knighthood in helping this distressed lady. But he that disdains to obey any thing but his passion, which he calls his mind, bid me leave off that thought; but when he had killed me, he would then perhaps, go to her succour. But I well finding the fight would be long between us, longing in my heart to deliver the poor Dido, giving him so great a blow, as somewhat stayed him, to term it a right, I Matly ran away from him toward my horse, who trotting after the company, in mine armour I was put to some pain, but that use made me nimble unto it. But as I followed my horse, Anaxius followed me; but his proud heart did so disdain that exercise, that I had quickly over-run him, and overtaken my horse; being, I must confess, ashamed to see a number of country folks, who happened to pass thereby, who hallowed and howted after me, as at the arrantest coward that ever shewed his shoulders to his enemy. But when I had leapt on my horse, with such speedy agility, that they all cried see how fear. gives him wings,' I turned to Anaxius, and aloud promised him to return thither again, as soon as I had relieved the injured lady. But he railing at me, with all the base words angry contempt could indite; I said no more but Anaxius assure thyself, I neither fear thy force, nor thy opinion ;. and so using no weapon of a knight as at that time but my spurs, I ran in my knowledge after Pamphilus, but in all their conceits from Anaxius, which as far as I could hear, I might well hear testified with such laughters and games, that I was some few times moved to turn back again.

“ But the ladies misery over-ballanced my reputation; so that after her I went, and with six hours hard riding, through so wild places, as it were rather the cunning of my horse sometimes, than of myself, so rightly to hit the way, I overgat them a little before night, near to an old ill-favoured castle, the place where I perceived they meant to perform their unknightly errand. For there they began to strip her of her clothes, when I came in among them; and running through the first with a launce, the justness of the cause so enabled me against the rest, false-hearted in their own wrong-doing, that I had in as short time almost as I had been fighting only with Anaxius, delivered her from those injurious wretches, most of whom carried news to the other world, that amongst men secret wrongs are not always left unpunished. As for Pamphilus, he having once seen, as it should seem, remembered me, even from the beginning began to be in the rereward, and before they had left fighting, he was too far off to give them thanks for their pains. But when I had delivered to the lady a full liberty, both in effect and opinion, for some time it was hefore she could assure herself she was out of their hands, who had laid so vehement apprehension of death upon her, she then told me, how as she was returning towards her father's, weakly accompanied, as too soon trusting to the falsehood of reconcilement, Pamphilus had set upon her, and killing those that were with her, carried herself by such force, and with such manner as I bad seen, to this place, where he meant in cruel and shameful manner to kill her, in the sight of her own father, whom he had already sent word of it, that out of his castle window, for this castle she said, was his, he

might have the prospect of his only child's destruction if my coming, whom, she said, he feared as soon as he knew me by the armonr, had not warranted her from that near approaching cruelty. I was glad I had done so good a deed for a gentlewoman not unhand. some, whom before I had in like sort helped. But the night beginning to pursuade some retiring place, the gentlewoman, even out of countenance before she began her speech. much after this manner invited me to lodge that night with her father.”

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Of the “Defence of Poesy” little need be said ; as the composition of a well educated young man, it is respectable, but it presents nothing original either in conception or in execution.

The compositions in verse of Sir Philip Sidney, if brought together, would form a volume of handsome dimensions. Much of the Arcadia is metre of various kinds, but particularly imita tions of classical models in all their varieties ; unfortunately however, various as this poetry is in kind, it is uniform in character,--tame, dull, puerile, and prosaic , in a degree almost inconceivable. Sir Philip Sidney was a poet only when he wrote from the heart, inspired not by the muse, but by a more powerful passion. The volume devoted to the history of his unfortunate attachment is sprinkled with the waters of Castaly ; there the hopes and fears of a lover, the conflict between passion and reason, between vice and virtue, are forcibly, and in some instances poetically described. A character of truth, of genuine and undisguised feeling, and of occasional pathos, pervades this work sufficient to force conviction that the writer felt what he attempted to describe; that his love

was no phantom of a poetic brain, no idle platonic wailing, but masterless passion producing its overwhelming effects upon a susceptible mind, and creating anguish almost amounting to agony. No one can read the following passages without acknowledging the truth of this remark.

As good to write, as still to lie and


! O Stella dear! how much thy power hath wrought!

Thou hast my mind, none of the basest, brought By still kept course, while others sleep, to moan; Alas! if from the height of virtue's throne,

Thou canst vouchsafe the influence of a thought

Upon a wretch that long thy grace hath sought, Weigh then, how I by thee am overthrown!

[Sonnet 40.] O eyes! which do the spheres of beauty move,

Whose beams be heaver, whose joys all virtues be, Who while they make love conquer, conquer love;

The schools where Venus hath learned chastity.
O eyes! where humble looks most glorious prove,

Only loyed tyrants, just in cruelty,-
Do not, O do not, from poor me remove,
Keep still my zenith, ever shine on me!-

[Sonnet 42.]

Souls joy, bend not those morning stars from me!

Where virtue is made strong by beauty's might,

Where love is chastness, pain doth learn delight,
And humbleness grows on with majesty ;
Whatever may ensue, O let me be,

Copartner of the riches of that sight !
Let not mine eyes be hell-driy'n from that light,
0. look! O shine! O let me die, and see!

[ Sonnet 48.)

Virtue awake! beauty but beauty is,

I may, I must, I can, I will, I do
Leave following that which it is gain to miss!

Let her do-Sofi! but here she comes ! Go to;
Unkind! I love you not :-0 me! that eye
Doth make my heart give to my tongue the lie !

[Sonnet 47..]


more, my dear, no more these counsels try!
O give my passions leave to run their race!

Let fortune lay on me her worst disgrace;
Let folk o'ercharged with brain against me cry,

Let all the earth with scorn recount my case ;
But do not will me from my love to fly!

[Sonnet 64.]

Sonnet 90,
Stella! think not that I by verse seek fame,

Who seek, who hope, who love, who live but thee !

Thine eyes my pride, thy lips my history: If thou praise not, all other praise is shame, Not so ambitious am I as to frame

A nest for my young praise in laurel tree :

In truth I swear, I wish not there should be:
Graved on my epitaph a poet's name :
Nor if I would, could I just title make,


laud thereof to me should grow; Without my plumes from other's wings I take:

For nothing from my wit or will doth flow;
Since all my words thy beauty doth indite,
And love doth hold my hand, and makes me write!

A regular history of the progress of Sidney's passion may, perhaps, be found in the arrangement of these Sonnets. The second has the following passage :

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