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In her faire eyes two living lamps did flame,

Kindled above at th' hevenly Maker's light,
And darted fyrie beames out of the same
So passing persant and so wondrous bright,
That quite bereav'd the rash beholder's sight:
In them the blinded God his lustfull fyre
To kindle oft assay'd, but had no might;

For with dredd majestie and awfull yre
She broke his wanton darts, and quenched bace desyre.
Her yvorie forehead, full of bountie brave,

Like a broad table did itselfe dispred
For Love his loftie triumphes to engrave,
And write the battailes of his great godhed:
All good and honour might therein be red,
For there their dwelling was: And when she spake,
Sweete wordes, like dropping honny, she did shed ;

And twixt the perles and rubinsoftly brake
A silver sound, that heavenly musicke seem'd to make.

Upon her eyelids many Graces sate,

Under the shadow of her even browes Working belgardes and amorous retrate ; And everie one her with a grace endowes ; And everie one with meekenesse to her bowes. So glorious mirrhour of celestiall grace, And soveraine moniment of mortall vowes, How shall frayle pen descrive her heavenly face, For feare, through want of skill, her beauty to disgrace!

So faire, and thousand thousand times more faire,

She seem'd, when she presented was to sight;
And was yclad, for heat of scorching aire,
All in a silken Camus lylly whight,
Purfled upon with many a folded plight,
Which all above besprinckled was throughout
With golden aygulets, that glistred bright

Like twinckling starres; and all the skirt about
Was hem'd with golden fringe.
Below her ham her weed did somewhat trayne,

And her streight legs most bravely were embayl’d
In gilden buskins of costly cordwayne,
All bard with golden bendes which were entayl’d
With curious antickes and full fayre aumayld:
Before they fastened were under her knee

In a rich jewell, and therein entraylld

The ends of all the knots, that none might see
How they within their fouldings close enwrapped bee.

Like two faire marble pillours they were seene,

Which doe the temple of the Gods support,
Whom all the people decke with girlands greene,
And honour in their festivall resort;
Those same with stately grace and princely port
She taught to tread, when she herselfe would grace;
But with the woody Nymphes when she did play,
Or when the flying libbard she did chace,
She could them nimbly move, and after fly apace.
And in her hand a sharpe bore-speare she held,

And at her backe a bow and quiver gay,
Stuft with steel-headed dartes, wherewith she quel'd
The salvage beastes in her victorious play,
Knit with a golden bauldricke which forelay
Athwart her snowy brest,

Her yellow lockes, crisped like golden wyre,

About her shoulders weren loosely shed,
And when the winde emongst them did inspyre,
They waved like a penon wyde dispred,
And low behinde her backe were scattered :
And, whether art it were or heedelesse hap,
As through the flouring forrest rash she fled,

In her rude heares sweet flowres themselves did lap,
And flourishing fresh leaves and blossomes did enwrap.”

What a piece of " dulcet and harmonious music" is this! it is the murmuring of the golden stream of Pactolus of old ; but we cannot find words to express the extent of our delight, and we must leave it to the fancy of our readers to frame fit epithets of admiration. Let the reader compare this description with that of Parthenia, and particularly the lines in italics with Fletcher's imitations of them.

It is but fair, however, to select something, in which our author has improved Spenser-his description of Envy, for instance, which, although it betrays the place from which it came, is superior to Spenser's—it is more dignified ; Spenser's is more wild ; —the latter has also given a description of the physical qualities ; Fletcher has only delineated those of the mind.

Envy the next, Envy with squinted eyes;

Sick of a strange disease, his neighbour's health ;
Best lives he then, when any better dies;
Is never poor, but in another's wealth :

On best men's harms and griefs he feeds his fill;

Else his own maw doth eat with spiteful will:
Ill must the temper be, where diet is so ill.

Each eye through divers optics slily leers,

Which both his sight and object's self bely;
So greatest virtue as a moat appears,
And molehill faults to mountains multiply.

When needs he must, yet faintly, then he praises ;

Somewhat the deed, much more the means he raises :
So marreth what he makes, and praising, most dispraises.

The poem is supposed to be sung by a Shepherd, which gives the poet an opportunity of introducing several interesting descriptions of rural scenery.

The following stanzas are pretty and fanciful.

The flow'rs that, frightend with sharp winter's dread,

Retire into their mother Tellus' womb,
Yet in the spring in troops new mustered .
Peep out again from their unfrozen tomb :

'The early violet will fresh arise,

Spreading his flower'd purple to the skies;
Boldly the little elf the winter's spite defies.

The hedge, green satin pink'd and cut, arrays;

The heliotrope to cloth of gold aspires;
In hundred-colour'd silks the tulip plays;
Th' imperial flow'r, his neck with pearl attires;

The lily, high her silver grogram rears ;

The pansy, her wrought velvet garment bears;
The red-rose, scarlet, and the provence, damask wears.

The introduction to the ninth canto is poetical, and worth quoting.

The bridegroom Sun, who late the earth espous'd,

Leaves his star-chamber; early in the east
He shook his sparkling locks, head lively rous'd,
While Morn his couch with blushing roses drest;

His shines the Earth soon latch'd to gild her flow'rs :

Phosphor his gold-fleec'd drove folds in their bow'rs,
Whịch all the night had graz'd about th’ Olympic tow'rs.

The cheerful lark, mounting from early bed,

With sweet salutes awakes the drowsy light;
The Earth she left, and up to Heav'n is filed;
There chants her Maker's praises out of sight.

Earth seems a mole-hill, men but ants to be;

Teaching the proud, that soar to high degree,
The further up they climb, the less they seem and see.

The lines which succeed on the decay of human greatness, and the ruin of principalities and powers, are some of the finest and most spirited in the poem, and for which the author has our unqualified praise.

“ Fond man, that looks on Earth for happiness,

And here long seeks what here is never found !
For all our good we hold from Heav'n by lease,
With many forfeits and conditions bound;

Nor can we pay the fine, and rentage due:

Though now but writ, and seal’d, and giv'n anew,
Yet daily we it break, then daily must renew.
Why shouldst thou here look for perpetual good,

At ev'ry loss 'gainst heav'n's face repining?
Do but behold where glorious cities stood,
With gilded tops and silver turrets shining;

There now the hart fearless of greyhound feeds,

And loving pelican in fancy breeds:
There screeching satyrs fill the people's empty stedes.*
Where is the Assyrian lion's golden hide,

That all the east once grasp'd in lordly paw?
Where that great Persian bear, whose swelling pride
The lion's self tore out with rav'nous jaw?
Or he which 'twixt a lion and a pard,

Through all the world with nimble pinions far’d,
And to his greedy whelps his conquer'd kingdoms shar'd.
Hardly the place of such antiquity,

Or note of these great monarchies we find :
Only a fading verbal memory,
And empty name in writ is left behind :

But when this second life and glory fades,

And sinks at length in time's obscurer shades,
A second fall succeeds, and double death invades.

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That monstrous beast, which, nurs'd in Tiber's fen,

Did all the world with hideous shape affray;
That fill’d with costly spoil his gaping den,
And trode down all the rest to dust and clay:

His batt'ring horns, pullid out by civil hands

And iron teeth, lie scatter'd on the sands; Back’d, bridled by a monk, with seven heads yoked stands. And that black* vulture, which with deathful wing

O'ershadows half the Earth, whose dismal sight Frighten'd the Muses from their native spring, Already stoops, and flags with weary flight:

Who then shall look for happiness beneath ?

Where each new day proclaims chance, change, and death, And life itself's as flit as is the air we breathe. Fletcher's description of fear is as follows:Still did he look for some ensuing cross,

Fearing such hap as never man befel : No mean he knows, but dreads each little loss (With tyranny of fear distraught) as Hell.

His sense, he dare not trust (nor eyes, nor ears);

And when no other cause of fright appears,
Himself he much suspects, and fears his causeless fears.
Harness'd with massy steel, for fence not fight;

His sword unseemly long he ready drew:
At sudden shine of his own armour bright,
He started oft, and star'd with ghastly hue :

His shrieks, at ev'ry danger that appears,

Shaming the knight-like arms he goodly bears : His word : “Safer, that all, than he that nothing fears.' Compare this with Spenser's description.

Next him was Feare, all arm’d from top to toe,
Yet thought himselfe not safe enough thereby,
But fear'd each shadow moving to or froe;
And, his owne armes when glittering he did spy
Or clashing heard, he fast away did fly,
As ashes pale of hew, and winged heeld;
And evermore on Daunger fixt his eye,
Gainst whom he alwayes bent a brasen shield,
Which his right hand unarmed fearefully did wield. +

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