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This whole proceeding should cover the authors of it with everlasting infamy. It is a foul stain upon the garments of the maiden queen that she can never wipe off. There was not a particle of evidence at his trial that this pious and accomplished poet meditated any evil designs against the govern ment. He did what he had a perfect right to do; ay, what it was his duty to do, if he conscientiously thought he was right,-endeavor to make converts to his faith, so far as he could without interfering with the rights of others. If there be any thing that is to be execrated, it is persecution for opinion's sake. There is an excess of meanness, as well as wickedness, in striving to put down opinions by physical force. Those who do it thereby tacitly acknowledge that they have no other arguments, for truth has no reason ever to fear in any combat with error.1

Southwell's poems are all on moral and religious subjects. Though they have not many of the endowments of fancy, they are peculiarly pleasing for the simplicity of their diction, and especially for the fine moral truths and lessons they convey.

TIMES GO BY TURNS.

The lopped tree in time may grow again,

Most naked plants renew both fruit and flower;
The sorriest wight may find release of pain,

The driest soil suck in some moistening shower:
Time goes by turns, and chances change by course,
From foul to fair, from better hap to worse.

The sea of fortune doth not ever flow,

She draws her favors to the lowest ebb:
Her tides have equal times to come and go;

Her loom doth weave the fine and coarsest web.

No joy so great but runneth to an end,
No hap so hard but may in fine amend.

Not always fall of leaf, nor ever spring;
Not endless night, yet not eternal day:
The saddest birds a season find to sing,

The roughest storm a calm may soon allay.
Thus, with succeeding turns, God tempereth all,
That man may hope to rise, yet fear to fall.

A chance may win that by mischance was lost;
That net that holds no great, takes little fish;
In some things all, in all things none are cross'd;
Few all they need, but none have all they wish.
Unmingled joys here to no man befall;

Who least, hath some; who most, hath never all.

solations and glories of religion, are the constant themes of his writings, both in prose and verse, and the kindliness and benignity of his nature, and the moral excellence of his character are dif fused alike over both."

1 Truth crush'd to earth shall rise again,
The eternal years of God are hers;
But error, wounded, writhes in pain,
And dies amid his worshippers.—Bryant.

SCORN NOT THE LEAST.

Where wards are weak, and foes encount ring strong Where mightier do assault than do defend,

The feebler part puts up enforced wrong,

And silent sees that speech could not ainend: Yet, higher powers must think, though they repine, When sun is set the little stars will shine.

While pike doth range, the silly tench doth fly,
And crouch in privy creeks with smaller fish:
Yet pikes are caught when little fish go by,

These fleet afloat, while those do fill the dish;
There is a time even for the worms to creep,
And suck the dew while all their foes do sleep.

The merlin cannot ever soar on high,

Nor greedy greyhound still pursue the chase; The tender lark will find a time to fly,

And fearful hare to run a quiet race.

He that high growth on cedars did bestow,
Gave also lowly mushrooms leave to grow.

In Haman's pomp poor Mordocheus wept,
Yet God did turn his fate upon his foe.
The Lazar pin'd, while Dives' feast was kept,
Yet he to heaven, to hell did Dives go.
We trample grass, and prize the flowers of May;
Yet grass is green, when flowers do fade away.

CONTENT AND RICH.

My conscience is my crown;
Contented thoughts, my rest;

My heart is happy in itself,
My bliss is in my breast.

Enough I reckon wealth;
That mean, the surest lot,
That lies too high for base contempt,
Too low for envy's shot.

My wishes are but few,

All easy to fulfil:

I make the limits of my power
The bounds unto my will.

I fear no care for gold,
Well-doing is my wealth;
My mind to me an empire is,
While grace affordeth health.

I clip high-climbing thoughts,
The wings of swelling pride;
Their fall is worst that from the height
Of greatest honor slide.

Since sails of largest size

The storm doth soonest tear,
I bear so low and small a sail
As freeth me from fear.

I wrestle not with rage

While fury's flame doth burn;
It is in vain to stop the stream
Until the tide doth turn.

But when the flame is out,

And ebbing wrath doth end,

I turn a late enraged foe
Into a quiet friend.

And taught with often proof,
A temper'd calm I find
To be most solace to itself,
Best cure for angry mind.

Spare diet is my fare,

My clothes more fit than fine;
I know I feed and clothe a foe,
That pamper'd would repine.

I envy not their hap

Whom favor doth advance;
I take no pleasure in their pain
That have less happy chance.

To rise by others' fall

I deem a losing gain;

All states with others' ruin built
To ruin run amain.

No change of Fortune's calm

Can cast my comforts down:

When Fortune smiles, I smile to think

How quickly she will frown.

And when, in froward mood,

She proved an angry foe,

Small gain, I found, to let her come

Less loss to let her go.

But the prose of Southwell is no less charming than his poetry, as the fol lowing beautiful extracts will fully show:

MARY MAGDALENE'S TEARS.1

But fear not, Blessed Mary, for thy tears will obtain. They are too mighty orators to let thy suit fall; and though they pleaded at the most rigorous bar, yet have they so persuading a silence

1 This goes upon the supposition that the "woman that was a sinner," whose act of love to the Saviour is recorded in Luke vil. 37-50, was Mary Magdalene; but of this there is not only no proof But very little probability.

and so conquering a complaint, that, by yielding, they overcome, and, by entreating, they command. They tie the tongues of all accusers, and soften the rigor of the severest judge. Yea, they win the invincible and bind the omnipotent. When they seem most pitiful they have greatest power, and being most forsaken they are more victorious. Repentant eyes are the cellars of angels, and penitent tears their sweetest wines, which the savor of life perfumeth, the taste of grace sweeteneth, and the purest color of returning innocency highly beautifieth. This dew of devotion never faileth, but the sun of justice draweth it up, and upon what face soever it droppeth, it maketh it amiable in God's eye. For this water hath thy heart been long a limbeck, sometimes distilling it out of the weeds of thy own offences with the fire of true contrition; sometimes out of the flowers of spiritual comforts with the flames of contemplation; and now out of the bitter herbs of thy master's miseries with the heat of a tender compassion. This water hath better graced thy looks than thy former alluring glances. It hath settled worthier beauties in thy face than all thy artificial paintings. Yea, this only water hath quenched God's anger, qualified his justice, recovered his mercy, merited his love, purchased his pardon, and brought forth the spring of all thy favor. Till death dam up the springs, thy tears shall never cease running; and then shall thy soul be ferried in them to the harbor of life, that, as by them it was first passed from sin to grace, so, in them it may be wafted from grace to glory.

LIFE HATH NO "UNMEDDLED" JOY.

There is in this world continual interchange of pleasing and greeting accidence, still keeping their succession of times, and overtaking each other in their several courses; no picture can be all drawn of the brightest colors, nor a harmony consorted only of trebles; shadows are needful in expressing of proportions, and the bass is a principal part in perfect music; the condition here alloweth no unmeddled joy; our whole life is temperate between sweet and sour, and we must all look for a mixture of both the wise so wish better that they still think of worse, accepting the one if it come with liking, and bearing the other without impatience, being so much masters of each other's fortunes, that neither shall work them to excess. The dwarf groweth not on the highest hill, nor the tall man loseth not his height in the lowest valley; and as a base mind, though most at ease, will be dejected, so a resolute virtue in the deepest distress is most impregnable.

EDMUND SPENSER. 1553-1599.

Nor shall my verse that elder bard forget,
The gentle Spenser, Fancy's pleasing son,
Who, like a copious river, pour'd his song
O'er all the mazes of enchanted ground.

THOMSON.

EDMUND SPENSER,' the illustrious author of the "Faerie Queene," was born in London, 1553. Of his parentage little is known. "The nobility of the Spensers," says Gibbon, "has been illustrated and enriched by the trophies of Marlborough: but I exhort them to consider the Faerie Queen as the most precious jewel of their coronet." But his parents were undoubtedly poor, as he entered Pembroke Hall, Cambridge, 1569, as a sizar.2 After taking his master's degree in 1578, he went to reside with some relations in the north of England. He remained there but a short time, for in the latter part of the same year he went to London, and published his "Shepherd's Kalendar," a series of twelve eclogues, named after the twelve months of the year. It gave him great reputation at the time as a pastoral poet,3 for it contains many spirited and beautiful passages; but it was written in a language even then too obsolete, and could not have been understood without a commentary. It soon, therefore, lost its popularity, and is now but little read. In the summer of 1580 he went to Ireland, as secretary to Lord Grey, who had been appointed lord lieutenant. On that nobleman's being recalled in 1582, the poet returned with him to England, and in 1586 received a grant of 3028 acres of land forfeited to the crown, as a reward for his services, provided he would return to Ireland to cultivate them. He accepted the conditions. The Castle of Kilcolman, in the county of Cork, was his residence; and the river Mulla, which he frequently mentions in his poems, flowed through his grounds. Here he was visited by Sir Walter Raleigh, whom he styles "the Shepherd of the Ocean," with whom he had become acquainted during his former resi dence in Ireland. He persuaded the poet to accompany him to England, and by him he was presented to Queen Elizabeth, an event which he celebrates in his poem, entitled "Colin Clouts come Home againe."

"Raleigh's visit," remarks Mr. Campbell,4 " occasioned the first resolution of Spenser to prepare the first books of The Faerie Queene' for immediate publication. Spenser has commemorated this interview, and the inspiring influence of Raleigh's praise, under the figurative description of two shepherds tuning their pipes beneath the alders of the Mulla-a fiction with which the mind, perhaps, will be much less satisfied, than by recalling the scene as it really existed. When we conceive Spenser reciting his compositions to Raleigh, in a scene so beautifully appropriate, the mind casts a pleasing retrospect over that influence which the enterprise of the discoverer of Virginia,

1 The works of Spenser are now made accessible to every one, in that beautiful Boston edition, i five volumes, edited by G. S. Hillard, Esq.

? That is, a "charity student." They had certain allowance made in then college bills, and received that name from the size, as it was called, or portion of bread, meat, &c. allotted to a student.

* Drayton says, "Master Edmund Spenser had done enough for the immortality of his name had he only given us his Shepherd's Kalendar, a masterpiece, if any."

4 "Specimens of British Poets," ii. 173. A second edition of this valuable work has lately been republished in one large octavo. Read, particularly, the "Essay on English Poetry," preceding the extracts.

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