In her faire eyes two living lamps did flame, She broke his wanton darts, and quenched bace desyre. Her yvorie forehead, full of bountie brave, For there their dwelling was: And when she spake, Upon her eyelids many Graces sate, Under the shadow of her even browes Working belgardes and amorous retrate; How shall frayle pen descrive her heavenly face, So faire, and thousand thousand times more faire, Purfled upon with many a folded plight, Below her ham her weed did somewhat trayne, In a rich jewell, and therein entrayl'd The ends of all the knots, that none might see Like two faire marble pillours they were seene, Which doe the temple of the Gods support, Those same with stately grace and princely port And in her hand a sharpe bore-speare she held, Her yellow lockes, crisped like golden wyre, As through the flouring forrest rash she fled, In her rude heares sweet flowres themselves did lap, 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; Is never poor, but in another's wealth: On best men's harms and griefs he feeds his fill; Each eye through divers optics slily leers, 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, frighten'd with sharp winter's dread, Yet in the spring in troops new mustered Spreading his flower'd purple to the skies; The hedge, green satin pink'd and cut, arrays; In hundred-colour'd silks the tulip plays; 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, His shines the Earth soon latch'd to gild her flow'rs: The cheerful lark, mounting from early bed, Earth seems a mole-hill, men but ants to be; 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, many forfeits and conditions bound; With Nor can we pay the fine, and rentage due: Though now but writ, and seal'd, and giv'n anew, Why shouldst thou here look for perpetual good, There now the hart fearless of greyhound feeds, 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? Through all the world with nimble pinions far'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, i. e. places. That monstrous beast, which, nurs'd in Tiber's fen, And that black* vulture, which with deathful wing 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, His sense, he dare not trust (nor eyes, nor ears); Himself he much suspects, and fears his causeless fears. Harness'd with massy steel, for fence not fight; At sudden shine of his own armour bright, Shaming the knight-like arms he goodly bears : Compare this with Spenser's description. Next him was Feare, all arm'd from top to toe, The Turk. Faëry Queen, b. iii. c. xii. st. xii. |