character of his writings and in the smoothness and elegance of his verse. He was also a graduate of Oxford. His works are- -'Cynthia, with Certain Sonnets,' and the 'Legend of Cassandra,' (1595); the 'Affectionate Shepherd,' &c. (1596); the Encomium of Lady Pecunia' (1598), &c. But Barnfield is chiefly known from the circumstance, that some of his pieces were abscribed to Shakspeare, in a volume entitled 'The Passionate Pilgrim, by W. Shakspeare' (199). The use of Shakspeare's name was a trick of the bookseller. The small volume contains two of Shakspeare's Sonnets, some verses taken from his 'Love's Labour's Lost (published the year before) some pieces known to be by Marlowe and Raleigh, and others taken from Barnfield's ' Encomium of Lady Pecunia.'

The following three extracts are from Lodge:

Like to the clear in highest sphere,
Where all imperial glory shines,
Of self-same colour is her hair,

Whether unfolded or in twines:

Her eyes are sapphires set in snow,
Refining heaven by every wink;
The gods do fear, when as they glow,
And I do tremble when I think.

Beauty.

Her cheeks are like the blushing cloud
That beautifies Aurora's face;

Or like the silver crimson shroud
That Phoebus' smiling looks doth grace.

Her lips are like two budded roses,
Whom ranks of lilies neighbour nigh;

Rosalind's

Love in my bosom, like a bee,

Doth suck his sweet;

Now with his wings he plays with me,

Now with his feet.

Within mine eyes he makes his nest,
His bed amidst my tender breast;

My kisses are his daily feast,
And yet he robs me of my rest:
Ah, wanton, will ye?

And if I sleep, then percheth he
With pretty flight,

And makes his pillow of my knee,
The livelong night.

Strike I my lute, he tunes the string;
He music plays if so I sing;
He lends me very lovely thing,
Yet cruel he my heart doth sting:
Whist, wanton, still ye.

Love.

Turn I my looks unto the skies,
Love with his arrows wounds mine eyes:
If so I gaze upon the ground,
Love then in every flower is found;
Search I the shade to fly my pain,
Love meets me in the shade again;
Want I to walk in secret grove,

E'en there I meet with sacred love;
If so I bathe me in the spring,
E'en on the brink I hear him sing;
If so I meditate alone,

He will be partner of my moan;
If so I mourn, he weeps with me;
And where I am, there will he be!

The following two short poems--often printed as one-exhibit Barnfield's tone of sentiment and versification:

As it fell upon a day,

In the merry month of May,
Sitting in a pleasant shade,
Which a grove of myrtles made;
Beasts did leap, and birds did sing,
Trees did grow, and plaufs did spring;
Everything did banish moan,
Save the nightingale alone;
She, poor bird, as all forlorn,
Leaned her breast up-till a thorn,
And there sung the dolefull'st ditty,
That to hear it was great pity.
'F'ie, fie, fie,' now would she cry;

Whilst as fickle Fortune smiled,
Thou and I were both beguiled.
Every one that flatters thee
Is no friend in misery.
Words are easy, like the wind;
Faithful friends are hard to find.
Every man will be thy friend

Whilst thou has wherewith to spend ;
But, if store of crowns be scant,
No man will supply thy want.
If that one be prodigal,
Bountiful they will him call;
And with such-like flattering,
'Pity but he were a king.'

'Teru, teru,' by and by;

That, to hear her so complain,
Scarce I could from tears refrain:
For her griefs, so lively shewn,
Made me think upon mine own.
Ah!-thought I-thou mourn'st in vain ; ¦
None takes pity on thy pain :

Senseless trees, they cannot hear thee;
Ruthless bears, they will not cheer thee.
King Pandion, he is dead;

All thy friends are lapped in lead:
All thy fellow-birds do sing,
Careless of thy sorrowing!

If he be addict to vice,
Quickly him they will entice;
But if fortune once do frown,
Then farewell his great renown!
They that fawned on him before
Use his company no more.
He that is thy friend indeed,
He will help thee in thy need;
If thou sorrow, he will weep;
If thou wake, he cannot sleep:
Thus, of every grief in heart,
He with thee doth bear a part.
These are certain signs to know
Faithful friend from flattering foe.

MARLOWE-SIR WALTER RALEIGH.

The whole of the pieces in The Passionate Pilgrim' were, as we have said, ascribed to Shakspeare. Among them was the fine poem, ‘The Passionate Shepherd to his Love,' with the answer, sometimes called "The Nymph's Reply.' The first is assigned to CHRISTOPHER MAR< LOWE, in the poetical miscellany, 'England's Helicon'; and the second appears in the same volume with the signature of Ignoto,' used in other instances to intimate that the author was unknown. To one copy, however, the initials of Sir Walter Raleigh are attached; and we have the explicit statement of Izaak Walton in his 'Complete Angler' (1653)-but written long before it was printed-that the pieces were really by Marlowe and Raleigh.

The Passionate Shepherd to his Love.—By Marlowe.

Come live with me, and be my love,
And we will all the pleasures prove
That valleys, groves, and hills and fields,
Woods or steepy mountains yields.

And we will sit upon the rocks,
Sing the shepherds feed their flocks,
By shallow rivers, to whose falls
Melodious birds sing madrigals.

And I will make thee beds of roses,
And a thousand fragrant posies;
A cap of flowers and a kirtle
Embroidered all with leaves of myrtle:

A gown made of the finest wool,
Which from our pretty lambs we pull;
Fair lined slippers for the cold,
With buckles of the purest gold:

A belt of straw and ivy buds,
With coral clasps and amber studs;
And if these pleasures may thee move,
Come live with me, and be my love.

The shepherd swains shall dance and sing,
For thy delight, each May morning:
If these delights thy mind may move,
Then live with me, and be my love.

The Nymph's Reply.-By Raleigh.

If all the world and love were young,
And truth in every shepherd's tongue,
These pretty pleasures might me move
To live with thee, and be thy love.

But Time drives flocks from field to fold,
When rivers rage and rocks grow cold;
And Philomel becometh damb,
The rest complain of cares to come.

The flowers do fade, and wanton fields
To wayward winter reckoning yields;
A honey tongue-a heart of gall,
Is fancy's spring, but sorrow's fall.

Thy gowns, thy shoes, thy beds of roses,
Thy cap, thy kirtle, and thy posies,
Soon break, soon wither, soon forgotten,
In folly ripe, in reason rotten.

Thy belt of straw and ivy buds,
Thy coral clasps, and amber studs;
All these in me no means can move
To come to thee, and be thy love.

But could youth last, and love still breed,
Had joys no date, nor age no need,
Then these delights my mind might

move

To live with thee, and be thy love.

Marlowe will merit a detailed notice among the dramatists, as inferior only in his own day to Shakspeare; but we may here mention his poem of Hero and Leander,' founded on the classic story as given by Musæus, and first published in 1598. Marlowe completed the first and second Sestyads' of this paraphrase, and they were reprinted with a continuation by Chapman in 1600. A few lines will shew his command of the heroic couplet:

་

It lies not in our power to love or hate,

For will in us is overruled by fate.

When two are stripped, long ere the race begin,;
We wish that one should lose, the other win.

And one especially do we affect

Of two gold ingots, like in each respect.

The reason no man knows: let it suffice
What we behold is censured by our eyes;
Where both deliberate, the love is slight:
Who ever loved, that loved not at first sight.

In the brilliant constellation of great men which adorned the reigns of Elizabeth and James, one of the most distinguished of those who added eminence in literature to high talent for active business, was SIR WALTER RALEIGH, a man whose character will always make him occupy a prominent place in the history of his country. He was

born in 1552, at Hayes Farm, in Devonshire, of an ancient family; and from his youth was distinguished by great intellectual acutene-s, but still more by a restless and adventurous disposition. He became a soldier at the age of seventeen; fought for the Protestant cause in the civil wars of France and the Netherlands; and afterwards, in 1579, accompanied his half-brother, Sir Humphrey Gilbert, on a voyage to Newfoundland. This expedition proved unfortunate, but by familiarising him with a maritime life, had probably much influence in leading him to engage in those subsequent expeditions by which he rendered himself famous. In 1580, he proceeded to Ireland with Arthur, Lord Grey of Wilton, the new lord-deputy. Raleigh held a captain's commission, and was employed in concert with Edward Denny, cousin of Lord Grey, to convey two hundred soldiers to Ireland to act against the rebels, for which service they received £200. In December, 1581, we find him receiving £20 for carrying despatches from Lord Grey to the queen. This was probably the first occasion of his being introduced to the queen, and with the aid of a handsome person and winning address, he soon became a special favourite with Elizabeth. There is a story told of his gallantry and tact which, though it rests only on tradition, is characteristic. One day, when he was attending the queen on a walk, she came to a miry part of the road, and for a moment I esitated to proceed. Raleigh, perceiving this, instantly pulled off his rich plush cloak, and by spreading it before her feet, enabled her to pass on unsoiled! The energy and ability displayed by Raleigh in suppressing the rebellion of Desmond led to his receiving a grant of part of the forfeited property-12,000 acres, it is said, and he was appointed governor of C rk. In 182, he was one of the courtiers whom Elizabeth sent to attend the Duke of Anjou back to the Nethcrlands, after refusing that nobleman her hand. In 1584, he again joined in an adventure for the discovery and settlement of unknown countries. For this purpose he received a patent from the crown, and in the introduction to this patent-dated 26th March 1584-he is styled Walter Raleigh, Knight; so that Elizabeth must previously have invested her favourite with the honour of knighthood. With the help of his friends, two ships were sent out in quest of goldmines, to that part of North America now called Virginia. Raleigh himself was not with these vessels; the commodities brought home by which produced so good a return, that the owners were induced to fit out, for the next year, another fleet of seven ships, under the command of Raleigh's kinsman, Sir Richard Grenville. The attempt made on this occasion to colonise America proved an utter failure; and after a second trial, the enterprise was given up. This expedition is said to have been the means of introducing tobacco into England, and also of making known the potato, which was first cultivated on Raleigh's land in Ireland. On both points, however, accounts differ.

Meanwhile, the prosperity of Raleigh at the English court continued to increase. Elizabeth, by granting monopolies, and an additional Irish estate, conferred on him solid marks of her favour. In return for these benefits, be zealously and actively exerted himself for the defence of her majesty's dominions against the Spaniards. He was one of the council of war appointed to devise means for resisting the threatened invasion, and at Michaelmas 1587, he received £2000, to be employed in raising horse and foot in Devonshire and Cornwall. Having organised his forces in the west, Raleigh sailed in a vessel of his own to assist in repelling the threatened invaders, whose miserable and total discomfiture is well known. Next year, he accompanied a number of his countrymen who went to aid the expelled king of Portugal in an attempt to regain his kingdom from the Spaniards. Spenser, in a sonnet written in 1599, styles Raleigh 'the summer's nightingale;' and in this year, when revelling in court-favour, he obtained a gift of the rich manor of Sherborne, in Dorsetshire, which the dean and chapter of Salisbury were forced to relinquish. Next year, however, he fell into disgrace, in consequence of an intrigue with one of the maids of honour, a daughter of Sir Nicholas Throgmorton-whom he afterwards married-and Elizabeth sent both culprits to the Tower, where Raleigh was confined several months.

About this time he exerted himself to reduce to practice an idea thrown out by Montaigne, by setting up an office of address,' intended to serve the purposes now executed chiefly by literary and philosophical societies. The description of this scheme, given by Sir William Petty, affords a striking picture of the difficulties and obstacles which lay in the way of men of study and inquiry two centuries ago. It seems, says Sir William, 'to have been a plan by which the wants and desires of all learned men might be made known to each other, where they might know what is already done in the business of learning, what is at present in doing, and what, is intended to be done; to the end that by such a general communication of designs and mutual assistance, the wits and endeavours of the world may no longer be as so many scattered coals, which, having no union, are soon quenched, whereas, being but laid together, they would have yielded a comfortable light and heat. For the present condition of men is like a field where, a battle having been lately fought, we see many legs, arms, and organsof sense, lying here and there, which, for want of conjunction, and a soul to quicken and enliven them, are fit for nothing but to feed the ravens and infect the air; so we see many wits and ingenuities dispersed up and down the world, whereof some are now labouring to do what is already done, and puzzling themselves to reinvent what is already invented; others we see quite stuck fast in difficulties for default of a few directions, which some other man, might he be met withal, both could and would most easily give him Again, one man E. L. v. 1-8