Sonnet 15.

You that do search for every purling spring,
Which from the ribs of old Parnassus flows,
And every flower, not sweet perhaps, that grows
Near thereabouts, into your poem's wring:
You that do Dictionary's method's bring
Into your rhymes, running in rattling rows:
You that
poor Petrarch's long deceased woes,
With new-born sighs, and wit disguised do sing:-
You take wrong ways, those far-fetch'd helps be such
As do betray a want of inward touch,

And sure at length, stolen goods do come to light;
But if, both for your love and skill, your name
You seek to nurse at fullest breasts of fame,
Stella behold! and then begin to indite.

Sonnet 23.

The curious wits, seeing dull pensiveness
Betray itself in my long settled eyes,

Whence those same fumes of melancholy rise,
With idle pains, and missing aim, do guess:

Some that know how my spring I did address,

Deem that my muse some fruit of knowledge plies : Others, because the prince my service tries, Think that I aim state-errors to redress :

But harder judges, judge ambition's rage,-
Scourge of itself, still climbing slippery place,—
Holds my young brain captive in golden cage.

O fools, or over-wise, alas! the race
Of all my thoughts have neither stop nor start,
But only Stella's eyes, and Stella's heart.

Sonnet 39.

Come sleep, O sleep! the certain knot of peace, The baiting place of wit, the balm of woe, The poor man's wealth, the prisoner's release,

The indifferent judge between the high and low; With shield of proof, shield me from out the press Of those fierce darts despair at me doth 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 chamber deaf to noise, and blind to light, A rosy garland, and a weary head:

And if these things, as being thine by right, Move not thy heavy grace, thou shalt, in me, Livelier than elsewhere, Stella's image see.

Sonnet 53.

In martial sports I had my cunning tried,

And yet, to break more staves, did me address, While, with the people's shouts, I must confess, Youth, luck and praise, e'en filled my veins with pride. When Cupid, having me, his slave, descried

In Mars's livery, prancing in the press;What now, sir fool? said he, I would no less! Look here, I say!—I looked, and Stella spied, Who, hard by, made a window send forth light. My heart then quaked, then dazzled were mine eyes, One hand forgat to rule, th' other to fight.

Nor trumpet's sound I heard nor friendly cries: My foe came on, and beat the air for me. 'Till that her blush taught me my shame to see.

Sonnet 54.

Because I breathe not love to every one,
And do not use set colours for to wear,
Nor nourish special locks of vowed hair,
Nor give each speech the full point of a groan;
The courtly nymphs, acquainted with the moan

Of them, who in their lips love's standard bear;
What he? say they of me, now done 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 truth shall find,
That his right badge is worn but in the heart:
Dumb swains, not chattering pies, do lovers prove;
They love indeed, who quake to say they love!

Lady Rich, as she appears in the volumes of Sir Philip Sidney, is a model of perfection, beautiful, and virtuous. She is by general consent allowed to be the original of the highly finished female character drawn by his hand in the Arcadia, and an exquisite character it is, one of those delightful visions.

"That youthful poets fancy when they love."

In this romance he has assigned to her the poetic name of Philoclea, and has introduced her in the following beautiful passage:-" Methought there was more sweetness in Philoclea, but more majesty in Pamela; methought Philoclea's beauty only persuaded, but so persuaded, that all hearts must yield; Pamela's beauty used violence, but such violence as no heart could

resist. And it seemed that such proportion is between their minds. Philoclea is so bashful, as though her excellencies had stolen into her before she was aware; so humble, that she will put all pride out of countenance; in sum, such proceeding as will stir hope, but teach hope good manners. Pamela of high thoughts, who avoids not pride with not knowing her excellencies, but by making that one of her excellenlencies to be void of pride." He proceeds to describe the beauty of her person with all the ardour and all the voluptuousness of a poet and a lover. This description is introduced by the following climax, which is in itself worth all the metrical poetry in the romance. He calls her "The ornament of the earth, the model of heaven, the triumph of nature, the life of beauty, the queen of love, young Philoclea."

Sir Philip Sidney excelled in his delineations of female character. The two sisters in the Arcadia are sweetly drawn, and it is to be lamented that, from defective taste, he has blinded them with most unworthy associations. At the touch, however, of the Ithuriel's spear of impartial history this beautiful creation vanishes, and in its stead we have a mortifying picture of the frailty of our nature.

Lady Rich, when no longer young, and the mother of a large family, abandoned her husband and children, and attached herself to one of her earliest lovers. This incident shall be related in the words of the seve ral authorities from whence it is derived.

Sanderson, speaking of the affair of Somerset and the Countess of Essex remarks," this case followed at the heels of a former divorce, fresh in memory,

between the Lord Rich and his fair lady by mutual consent; but, because Mountjoy Earl of Devonshire married her while her lord lived, the King was so much displeased, as it broke the Earl's heart; for his Majesty told him that "he had purchased a fair wife with a fonl soul," but this of Essex was a different example, when you seek to parallel them together."

Dr. Birch, an historian of more credit, gives the following account of this connection, on the authority of the Earl of Devonshire's secretary. "After the Irish wars, grief of unsuccessful love, brought him,” (the Earl) to his last end. He had engaged in a mutual affection, and even promises of marriage, with the Earl of Essex's sister Penelope, before she was married to Robert Lord Rich; whom she afterwards abandoned, and had several children by the Earl of Devonshire, who, finding her upon his return from Ireland delivered from her hnshand, married at Wanstead, in Essex, Dec. 26, 1605, the ceremony being performed by his Chaplain, Mr. William Laud, afterwards Archbishop of Canterbury; an act which gave great concern to that divine upon cooler reflection, and exposed him to just censure. And his Lordships's conduct, with respect to that lady, gave such a wound to his reputation, though he endeavoured to excuse it by a written apology, that the impression which the disgrace made upon him was believed to have shortened his life."

In Winwood's Memoirs, is a letter from Mr. Chamberlain, dated April 5, 1606, who says, "The Earl of Devonshire left this life on Tuesday night last, soon and early for his years (œtate 43) but late enough for himself;