SIR WALTER RALEIGH was born at Hayes-Farm, near East Budeleigh, Devon, in 1552. In 1568, he entered at Oriel College, Oxford, and afterwards at the Middle Temple. But the times were such as to call for action rather than thought; the pursuits of Alma Mater, and the sober study of the law, were soon deserted; the genius of Raleigh eagerly sought and found a more accessible road to fame. He fought during six years, as a volunteer, under the Protestant banner, in France; subsequently served a campaign in the Netherlands; acquired reputation for skill and courage in Ireland, during the rebellion of 1580; and, on his return to England, obtained, “through a piece of gallantry," the favour of Queen Elizabeth, by whom he was knighted, and raised to high honours, "having gotten the Queen's ear in a trice," and alarmed the jealousy of the favourite, Leicester. Yet, "far from sucking in the luxuries and vanities of a court, while he enjoyed the smile of it, both his thoughts and his purse were employed in preparations to leave it for a very different course of life." The various chances and changes of his eventful career-his attempt to colonize Virginia, his participation in the destruction of the "invincible" Armada, his expedition against Panama, his capture of San Joseph, his parliamentary conduct as knight of the shire for his native county, his co-operation in the taking of Cadiz, his share in "the Island Voyage," his serious or absurd contests with the Earl of Essex, his appointments to profitable places by the Queen, his disgrace under the reign of her successor, his trial and condemnation upon an ill-sustained charge of high treason, his imprisonment of fifteen wearisome years, his subsequent disastrous voyage to Guiana, his return, and his unjust execution, under his old and almost forgotten sentence-are matters at which we can but, in passing, glance. The mention of them supplies an outline of the full life of one who was distinguished as "the noble and valorous knight," a man of astonishing energy, who combined almost every variety of talent, whose acquirements in science were marvellous, whose heroic courage and indomitable perseverance are almost without parallel, whose enterprize was unchecked by difficulties and unchilled by failure, and who, while excelling in feats of arms and in strength of counsel, surpassed also in those arts which are the more exclusive produce of retirement and peace,-history, oratory, philosophy, politics, and poetry. His death took place on the 29th October, 1618. Raleigh is described as always making a very elegant appearance, both in splendor of attire and politeness of address; as "having a good presence, a handsome and wellcompacted person, a strong natural wit and a better judgment, with a bold and plausible tongue, whereby he could set out his parts to the best advantage." The poetical remains of Sir Walter Raleigh are few, but they suffice to show how greatly he could have excelled in this art of peace, had circumstances enabled him, and inclination prompted him, to devote to it the energies of his capacious mind. In his minor writings, as in his stupendous plans, he was original, bold, and adventurous; and although it is difficult, according to old Puttenham, "to find out and make public his doings" -many poems being attributed to him upon unsatisfactory evidencethere is proof enough in those which are undoubtedly his, to sustain a very high reputation. Spenser, his personal friend, speaking of his poetry, styles him "the summer nightingale," who was "Himself as skilful in that art as any." Among other specimens, we have inserted one to which has been given the several titles of "the Lye," "the Soul's Errand," and "the Soul's Farewell." It is doubtful whether Raleigh was really the writer of it; it is, at least, certain that the tradition is erroneous which describes it as having been "penned down" by him on the night before his execution, as it was printed in Davison's "Poetical Rhapsodie" ten years previous to that event. Mr. Ellis assigns it to Joshua Sylvester, "until a more authorised claimant shall appear;" but it is so vastly superior to the known compositions of this author, that we are inclined to withhold from him the merit of having produced it, and prefer the authority of the collector of "Ancient Reliques," who assigns it to Raleigh, and surmises that it might have been written in 1603, after his condemnation, when he was in hourly anticipation of death. The poem is so transcendently vigorous, that we think few of his contemporaries could have produced it; the style, moreover, greatly resembles that of Raleigh, a blending of mature reflection, forcible thought, and striking metaphor. SWEET violets, Love's paradise, that spread Your gracious odours, which you couched beare Upon the gentle wing of some calme breathing winde, If by the favour of propitious starres you gaine Be proud to touch those places! And when her warmth your moysture forth doth weare, Whereby her daintie parts are sweetly fed, Your honours of the flowrie meades I pray, You pretty daughters of the earth and sunne, With milde and seemely breathing straite display My bitter sighs, that have my hart undone! Vermillion roses, that with new dayes rise, The rich adorned rayes of roseate rising morne! Do pluck your purse, ere Phœbus view the land, Fast by your flowers to take the Sommer's ayre, THE SHEPHEARD'S DESCRIPTION OF LOVE. MELIEEUS. SHEPHEARD, What's Love, I pray thee tell? FAUSTUS. It is that fountaine, and that well, That toules all into heaven or hell: MELIBEUS. Yet what is Love, I prethee say? FAUSTUS. It is a worke on holy-day, It is December match'd with May, Heare ten months after of the play: MELIBEUS. Yet what is Love, good Shepheard saine? FAUSTUS. It is a sun-shine mixt with raine; The lass saith no, and would full faine : MELIBEUS. Yet, Shepheard, what is Love, I pray? FAUSTUS. It is a yea, it is a nay, A pretty kind of sporting fray, It is a thing will soone away; Then Nimphs take 'vantage while ye may; MELIBEUS, Yet what is Love, good Shepheard show? FAUSTUS. A thing that creepes, it cannot goe; A thing for one, a thing for moe, And he that prooves shall find it so, THE SILENT LOVER. PASSIONS are likened best to floods and streames; The shallow murmur, but the deepe are dumb. So, when affections yield discourse, it seems The bottom is but shallow whence they come : They that are rich in words must needs discover, They are but poor in that which makes a lover. Wrong not, sweet mistresse of my heart, With thinking that he feels no smart, Since, if my plaints were not t' approve For, knowing that I sue to serve I rather choose to want reliefe Thus those desires that boil so high In any mortal lover, When Reason cannot make them die, Yet when Discretion doth bereave Silence in Love bewrays more woe Then wrong not, dearest to my heart! He smarteth most that hides his smart, |