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In 1839, a complete edition of the works of Donne, including sermons, devotions, poems, letters, &c., was published in six volumes, edited by the Rev. Henry Alford, afterwards Dean of Canterbury.

JOSEPH HALL.

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JOSEPH HALL, born at Bristow Park, in Leicestershire, in 1574, and who rose through various church preferments to be bishop of Norwich, is distinguished as a satirical poet, whose works have been commended by Pope and Warton, and often reprinted. His satires, which were published under the title of Virgidemiarum,' in 1597-8, refer to general objects, and present some just pictures of the more remarkable anomalies in human character: they are also written in a style of greater vigour and volubility than most of the compositions of this age. His chief defect is obscurity, arising from remote allusions and elliptical expression. Bishop Hall died in 1656, at the age of eighty-two.

Selections from Hail's Satires.

A gentle squire would gladly entertain
Into his house some trencher-chapelain :
Some willing man that might instruct his sons,
And that would stand to good conditions.
First, that he lie upon the truckle-bed,
While his young master lieth o'er his head.
Second, that he do, on no default,

Ever presume to sit above the sait.

Third, that he never change his trencher twice.
Fourth, that he use all common courtesies;
Sit bare at meals, and one half rise and wait.
Last, that he never his young master beat,
But he must ask his mother to define

How many jerks he would his breech should line.
All these observed, he could contented be
To give five marks and winter livery.

Seest thou how gaily my young master goes,"
Vaunting himself upon his rising to s;

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And pranks his hand upon his dagger's side;
And picks his glutted teeth since late noon-tide?
'Tis Ruffio: Trow'st thou where he dined to day?
In sooth I saw him sit with Duke Humphrey.
Many good welcomes, and much gratis cheer,
Keeps he for every straggling cavalier;
An open house, haunted with great resort;
Long service mixt with musical disport.t
Many fair younker with a feathered crest,
Chooses much rather be his shot-free guest,
To fare so freely with so little cost,

Than stake his twelvepence to a meaner host.
Hadst thou not told me, I should surely say

This is the portrait of a poor gailant of the days of Elizabeth. In St. Paul's Cathedral, then an open public place, there was a tomb, erroneously supposed to be that of Humphrey, Duke of Gloucester. which was the resort of gentlemen upon town in that day who had occasion to look cut or a dinner. When unsuccess. ul in getting an invita tion, they were said to dine with Duke Humphrey.

An allusion to the church-servi. to be heard near Duke Humphrey's tomb.

He touched no meat of all this livelong day;
For sure methought, yet that was but a guess,
His eyes seemed sunk for very hollowness,
But could he have-as I did it mistake-

So little in his purse, so much upon his back?
So nothing in his maw? yet seemeth by his belt
That his gaunt gut no too much stuffing felt.
Seest thou how side (1) it hangs beneath his hip?
Hunger and heavy iron makes girdles slip.
Yet for all that, how stiffly struts he by,
All trapped in the new-found bravery.
The nuns of new-won Calais his bonnet lent,
In lieu of their so kind a conquerment.

What needed he fetch that from farthest Spain,
His grandame could have lent with lesser pain?
Though he perhaps ne'er passed the English shore,
Yet fain would counted be a conqueror.

His hair, French-like, stares on his frighted head,
One lock Amazon-like dishevelled,

As if he meant to wear a native cord,

If chance his fates should him that bane afford.
All British bare upon the bristled skin,

Close notched is his beard, both lip and chiu;
His linen collar labyrinthian set,

Whose thousand double turnings never met:
His sleeves half hid with elbow pinionings,
As if he meant to fly with linen wings.
But when I look, and cast mine eyes below,
What monster meets mine eyes in human show?
So slender waist with such an abbot's loin,
Did never sober nature sure conjoin.
Lik'st a strawn scarecrow in the new-sown field,
Reared on some stick, the tender corn to shield,
Or, if that semblance suit not every deal,

Like a broad shake-fork with a slender steel.

MARSTON CHURCHYARD-TUBERVILLE-WATSON-CONSTABLE.

Nearly contemporary with Hall's satires were those of JOHN MARSTN, the dramatist, known for his subsequent rivalry and quarrel with Ben Jonson. Marston, in 1598, published a small volume, Certayne Satires,' and in 1599 The Scourge of Villany,' &c. He survived till 1634. Little is known of this English Aretine,' but all his works are coarse and licentious. Ben Jonson boasted to Drummond that he had beaten Marston and taken his pistol from him. If he had sometimes taken his pen, he would have better served society.

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Among the swarm of poets ranking with the earlier authors of this period, we may note the following as conspicuous in their own times. THOMAS CHURCHYARD (1520-1604) wrote about seventy volumes in prose and verse. He served in the army, trailed a pike 'in the reigns of Henry VIII., Mary, and Elizabeth, and received from Elizabethwhom he had propitiated by complimentary addressesa pension of eighteen-pence a day, not paid regularly. Churchyard is supposed to be the Palamon of Spenser's Colin Clout,

That sang so long until quite hoarse he grew.

1 Long, or Low.

-GEORGE TUBERVILLE (circa 1530-1594) was secretary to Randolph, Queen Elizabeth's ambassador at the court of Russia. So early as 1568, he had published songs and sonnets; but some of his worksas his Essays' and 'Book of Falconry' --were not published till after his death.-THOMAS WATSON (circa 1557-1592) was author of 'Hecatompathia, or Passionate Century of Love' (1582), a series of sonnets of superior elegance and merit; also 'Amyntas,' 1585, &c.— HENRY CONSTABLE (circa 1560-1612) was author of a great number of sonnets, partly published in 1592 under the title of Diana.' Almost every writer of this time ventured on a sonnet or translation. Some settled down into dramatists, and as such will be noticed hereafter; others became best known as prose writers. Dr. Drake calculates that there were about two hundred poets in the reign of Elizabeth! This is no exaggeration; but it is to the last decade of the century that we must look for its brighest names.

Sonnets by Thomas Watson.

When May is in his prime, and youthful Spring
Doth clothe the tree with leaves and ground with flowers,
And time of year reviveth every thing,

And lovely Nature smiles and nothing lowers;
Then Philomela most doth strain her breast

With night-complaints, and sits in little rest.
The bird's estate I may compare with mine,

To whom fond Love doth work such wrongs by day,
That in the night my heart must needs repine,
And storm with sighs to ease me as I may;
Whilst others are becalmed or lie them still,
Or sail secure with tide and wind at will.
And as all those which hear this bird complain,
Conceive in all her tunes a sweet delight,
Without remorse or pitying her pain;
So she. for whom I wail both day and night,
Doth sport herself in hearing my complaint;
A just reward for serving such a saint!

Time wasteth years, and months, and hours;
Time doth consume fame, honour, wit, and strength;
Time kills the greenest herbs and sweetest flowers;
Time wears out Youth and Beauty's looks at length;
Time doth convey to ground both foe and friend,
And each thing else but Love, which hath no end.
Time maketh every tree to die and rot;

Time turneth oft our pleasure into pain;

Time causeth wars and wrongs to be forgot;
Time clears the sky which first hung full of rain;
Time makes an end of all human desire,
But only this which sets my heart on fire.
Time turneth into nought each princely state;
Time brings a flood from new-resolved snow;
Time calms the sea where tempest was of late;
Time eats whate'er the moon can see below;
And yet no time prevails in my behoof,
Nor any time can make me cease to lovel

NICHOLAS BRETON.

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NICHOLAS BRETON (1558-1624) was a prolific and often happy writer, pastoral, satirical, and humorous. His Works of a Young Wit' appeared in 1577; and a succession of small volumes proceeded from his pen; eight pieces with his name are in England's Helicon' -a valuable poetical miscellany published on 1600, including contributions from Sidney, Spenser, Raleigh, Lodge, Marlowe, Watson, Greene, &c. Of Breton, little personally is known, but he is supposed to have been the son of a Captain Nicholas Breton of Tamworth, in Staffordshire, who had an estate at Nortou, in Northamptonshire.

A Pastoral.-From England's Helicon.

On a hill there grows a flower,

Fair befall the dainty sweet!
By that flower there is a bower,
Where the heavenly Muses meet.

In that bower there is a chair,

Fringed all about with gold, Where doth sit the fairest fair That ever eye did yet behold.

It is Phillis, fair and bright,
She that is the shepherd's joy,
She that Venus did despite,
And did blind her little boy.

From

Who would not this face admire ?

Who would not this saint adore?
Who would not this sight desire,
Though he thought to see no more?

O fair eyes, yet let me see
One good look, and I am gone:
Look on me, for I am he,
The poor silly Corydon.

Thou that art the shepherd's queen,
Look upon thy silly swain;
By thy comfort have been seen
Dead men brought to life again.

Farewell to Town.'

Thou gallant court, to thec, farewell!
For froward fortune me denies

Now longer near to thee to dwell.
I must go live, I wot not where,
Nor how to live when I come there.

And next, adieu, you gallant dames,
The chief of noble youth's delight!
Untoward fortune now so frames,

That I am banished from your sight,
And, in your stead, against my will,
I must go live with country Gill.

Now next, my gallant youths, farewell;
My lads that oft have cheered my heart!
My grief of mind no tongue can tell,

To think that I must from you part.
I now must leave you all, alas,
And live with some old lobcock ass!

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And now, you stately stamping steeds,
And gallant geldings fair, adieu!
My heavy heart for sorrow bleeds,

To think that I must part with you;
And on a strawen pannel sit,
And ride some country carting tit!

And now, farewell, both spear and shield,
Caliver, pistol, arquebuss;

See, see, what sighs my heart doth yield,
To think that I must leave you thus;
And lay aside my rapier blade,
And take in hand a ditching spede!

And you, farewell, all gallant games,
Primero and Imperial,

Wherewith I used, with courtly dames,

To pass away the time withal;
I now must learn some country plays
For ale and cakes on holidays!

And now, farewell, each dainty dish,
With sundry sorts of sugared wine!
Farewell, I say, and flesh and fish,

To please this dainty mouth of mine!
I now, alas, must leave all these,
And make good cheer with bread and
cheese!

And now, all orders due, farewell!
My table laid when it was noon;
My heavy heart it irks to tell

My dainty dinners all are done;
With leeks and onions, whig and whey
I must content me as I may.

And farewell all gay garments now,
With jewels rich, of rare device!
Like Robin Hood, I wot not how,

I must go range in woodman's wise;
Clad in a coat of green or gray,
And glad to get it if I may.

What shall I say, but bid adieu
To every dream of sweet delight,
In place where pleasure never grew,
In dungeon deep of foul despite,
I must, ah me! wretch as I may,
Go sing the song of wellaway!

LODGE-BARNFIELD.

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THOMAS LODGE, one of the most graceful and correct of the minor poets and imaginative writers of this period, appeared as an authōr in 1580. He then published a' Defence of Stage Plays in Three Divisions,' to which Stephen Gosson replied by a work quaintly styled 'Plays Confuted in Five Actions.' Gosson speaks of Lodge as vagrant person visited by the heavy hand of God.' Of the nature of this visitation we are not informed, but Lodge seems to have had a very varied life. He was of a respectable family in Lincolnshire, where he was born about 1556, and entered Trinity College, Oxford, as a servitor, under Sir Edward Hobby, in 1573. After leaving college, he is supposed to have been on the stage. But he afterwards joined in the expeditions of Captains Clarke and Cavendish, and wrote his 'Rosalynde' to beguile the time during his voyage to the Canaries. He next appears as a law-student. In his 'Glaucus and Scilla' (1589), 'Catharos Diogenes' (1591), and 'A Fig for Comus' (1595), he styles himself of Lincoln's Inn, Gent. His next work, A Margarite of America' (1596), was written, he says, 'in those straits christened by Magellan, in which place to the southward, many wondrous isles, many strange fishes, many monstrous Patagons, withdrew my senses.' From the law, Lodge turned to physic. He studied medicine, Wood says, at Avignon, and he practised in London, being much patronised by Roman Catholic families, till his death by the plague in 1625. Lodge wrote several pastoral tales, sonnets, and light satires, besides two dramas; one of them in conjunction with Greene His poetry is easy and polished, though abounding in conceits and gaudy ornament. His Rosalynde: Euphues Golden Legacie,' contains passages of fine description and delicate sentiment, with copies of verses interspersed. From this romantic little tale Shakspeare took the incidents of his As You Like It,' following Lodge with remarkable closeness. The great dramatist has been censured for some anachronisms in hig exquisite comedy--such as introducing a lioness and palm tree into his forest of Arden; but he merely copied Lodge, who has the lion, the myrrh-tree, the fig, the citron, and pomegranate. In these romantic and pastoral tales, consistency and credibility were utterly disregarded.

RICHARD BARNFIELD (born about 1570) resembled Lodge in the

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