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He attempted, apparently without success, to obtain redress by bringing his case before the House of Lords. Lithgow was author of an account of the ‘Siege of Breda' in 1637, and of soine indifferent poetical pieces.

GEORGE SANDYS. GEORGE SANDYS (1577-1644), the youngest son of the archbishop of York, and a popular poet and translator, undertook a long journey, of which he published an account in 1615, entitled 'A Relation of a Journey begun Anno Domini 1610. , Four Books, containing a Description of the Turkish Empire of Egypt, of the Holy Land, of the Remote Parts of Italy, and Islands adjvining. This work was so popular as to reach a seventh edition in 1678-a distinction not undeserved, since, as Mr. Kerr has remarked, in his Catalogue of Voyages and Travels' 'Sandys was an accomplished gentleman, well prepared by previous study for his travels, which are distinguished by erudition, sagacity, and a love of truth, and are written in a pleasant style. He devoted particular attention to the allusions of the ancient poets to the various localities through which he passed. In his dedication to Prince Charles, he thus refers to the

Modern State of Ancient Countries. The parts I speak of are the most renowned countries and kingdoms : once the seats of most glorious and triumphant empires; the theatres of valour and heroical actions; the soils enriched with all earthly felicities; the places where Nature hath produced her wonderful works; where arts and sciences have been invented and perfected; where wisdom, virtue, policy, and civility have been planted, have flourished; and, lastly, where God Himself did place His own commonwealth, gave laws and oracles, inspired His prophets, sent angels to converse with men; above all, where the Son of God descended to become man; where He honoured the earth with His beautiful stcps, wrought the works of our redemption, triumphed over death, and ascended into glory : which countries, once so glorious and famous for their happy estate, are now, through vice and ingratitude, become the most deplored spectacles of extreme misery; the wild beasts of mankind having broken in upon them, and rooted out all civility, and the pride of a stern and barbarous tyrant possessing the thrones of ancient and just dominion. Who, aiming only at the height of greatness and sensuality, hath in tract of time reduced so great and goodly a part of the world to that lamentable distress and servitude, under which-to the astonishment of the unlderstanding beholders-it now faints and groaneth. Those rich lands at this present remain waste and overgrown with bushes, receptacles of wild beasts, of thieves and murderers ; large territories dispeopled, or thinly inhabited; goodly cities made desolate; sumptuous buildings become ruins; glorious temples either subverted, or prostituted to impiety ; true religion discountenanced and oppressed; all nobility extinguished; no light of learning permitted, nor virtue cherished : violence and rapine insulting over all, and leaving no security except to an abject mind, and unlooked-on poverty, which calamities of theirs, so great and deserved, are to the rest of the world as threatening instructions. For assistance wherein, I have not only related wiiat I saw of their present condition, but, so far as convenience might permit, presented a brief view of the former estates and first antiquities of those peoples and countries : thence to draw a right image of the frailty of man, the mutability of whatsoever is worldly, and assurance that, as there is nothing unchangeable saving God, so nothing stable but by His grace and protection.

AUTHORISED TRANSLATION OF THE BIBLE. One of the most important literary undertakings of this era was the execution of the present authorised translation of the Bible. At the great conference held in 1604 at Hampton Court, between the established and puritan clergy, the version of Scripture then existing was generally disapproved of, and the king consequently appointed fifty-four men, many of whom were eminent as Hebrew and Greek scholars, to commence a new translation. In 1607,"forty-seven of the number met, in six parties, at Oxford, Cambridge, and Westminister, and proceeded to their task, a certain portion of Scripture being assigned to each. Every individual of each division, in the first place, translated the portion assigned to the division, all of which translations were collected: and when each party had determined on the construction of its part, it was proposed to the other divisions for general approbation. When they met together, one read the new yersion, whilst all the rest held in their hands either copies of the original, or some valuable version; and on any one objecting to a passage, the reader stopped till it was agreed upon. Tne result was published in 1611, and has ever since been reputed as a translation generally faithful, and an excellent specimen of the language of the time. Being universally read by all ranks of the people it has contributed most essentially to give stability and uniformity to the English tongue. It has been remarked, however, by some critics, including Mr Hallam, that in consequence of the translators adhering, by the king's request, to the older versions of the Scriptures, the language is more antiquated than that of Raleigh, Bacon, or the other writers of the reign of James I. In 1609, a translation of the Old Testament was made at Douay for the use of the English Roman Catholics.


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One of the most ingenious and learned prose writers of this age was ROBERT BURTON, born, as he himself tells us, it Lindley, in Leicestershire, the possession and dwelling-place of his father, on the 8th of February 1578. He studied at Christ-church, Oxford, and entering into holy orders, became rector of S+grave, in Leicestershire. He appears to have resided in his college at Oxford, and there he wrote his great work, “The Anatomy of Melancholy, by Democritus Junior,' which was published in 1621. 'I have been brought up,' he says, a student in the most flourishing college of Europe; for thirty years, I have continued a scholar, and would be therefore loath, either by living as a drone to be an unprofitable or unworthy member of so learned a society, or to write tbat which should be any way dishonourable to such a royal anıl ample foundation.' And in the same gossiping style he states, garnishing every line with a Latin quotation, that out of a running wit, an unconstant, 11settled mind,' he had a great desire to have some smattering of all knowledge, tumbling over divers authors in the Oxford libraries, but specially delighted with the study of cosmography. He adds, in a contented scho rlike spirit: 'I have little-I want nothing; all my treasure is in Minerva's tower. Greater preferment as I could never get, so am I not in debt for it; I have a competency (laus Deo!) from my noble and munificent patrons, though I live still a collegiate student, as Democritus in his garden, and lead a monastic lite, sequestered from those tumults and troubles of the world in some high place above them all; I have no wile vor children, good or bad, to provide for. A mere spectator of other meu's fortunes and adventures, and how they act their parts, which, methinks, are diversely presented unto me as from a common theatre or scene' He admits, however, that as Diogenes went into the city, and Democritus to the haven, to see fashions, he did now and then, for his recreation, walk abroad, look into the world, and make some little observationnot to scoff or laugh, but with a mixed passion.

Burton was a man of great benevolence, integrity and learning, but of a whimsical and melancholy disposition. Though at certain times he was a facetious companion, at others his spirits were very low; and when in this condition le used to go down to the river near Oxford, and dispel the gloom by listening to the course jests and ribaldry of the bargemen, wbich excited him to violent laughter. To alleviate mental distress, he wrote his Anatomy of Melancholy, which presents in quaint language, and with many shrewd and amusing remarks, a view of all the modifications of that disease, and the manner of curing it. The erudition displayed in this work is extraordinary, every page abounding with quotations from Latin or Greek author's It was so successful at first, that the publisher realised a fortune by it; and Warton says, that 'the author's variety of learning, his quotations from scarce and curious books, his pedantry, sparkling with rude wit and shapeless elegance, miscellaneous matter, intermixture of agreeable tales and illustrations, and, perlaps above all, the singularities of his feelings, clothed in an uncommon quaintness of style, have contributed to render it, even to modern readers, a valuable repository of amusement and information. It delighted Dr. Johnson so much, that he said this was the only book that ever took him out of bed two hours sooner than he wished to rise? Its reputation was considerably extended by the publication of Illustrations of Sterne,' in 1798, by the late Dr. Ferriar of Manchester, who convicted the novelist of copying passages verbatim, from Burton, without acknowledgment. Many others have, with like silence, extracted materials from his pages.

Prefixed to the ‘Anatomy of Melancholy' is a poem of twelve stanzas, from which Milton has borrowed some of the imagery of his • Il Penseroso.' The first six stanzas are as follows:

The Author's Abstract of Melancholy. When I go musing all alone,

Pleasing myself with phantasins sweet, Thinking of divers things foreknown, Methinks the time runs very fleet. When I build castles in the air,

All my joys to this are folly ; Void of sorrow, void of fear,

Nought so sweet as melancholy.

When I go walking all alone,

A thousand miseries at once Recounting what I have ill done,

Mine heavy heart and soul ensconce. My thoughts on me then tyrannise,

All my griefs to this are jolly ;
Fear and sorrow me surprise ;

None so sour as melancholy.
Whether I tarry still, or go,
Methinks the time moves very slow. Methinks I hear, methinks I see

All my griefs to this are jolly ; Sweet music, wondrous melody,
Nought so sad as melancholy.

Towns, palacce, and cities, fine;

Here now, then there, the world is mice, When to myself I act and smile,

Rare beauties, gallant ladies shine,
With pleasing thoughts the time beguile, Whate'er is lovely is divine.
By a brook-side or wood so green,

All other joys to this are foliy ;
Unheard, unsonght for, or naseen,

Noue so sweet as meluncholy.
A thousaud pleasures do me bless,
And crown my soul with happiness. Methinks I hear, methinks I see
All my joys besides are folly ;

Ghost, goblins, fiends: my phantasie
None so sweet as melancholy. Presents a thousand ugly shapes :

Headless bears, black men, and apes; When I lie, sit, or walk alone,

Doleful outcries and fearful sights I sigh, I grieve, making great moan; My sad and dismal soul affrig?its. In a dark grove or irksome den,

All my griefs to this are jolly ; With discontents and furies then,

None so damned as melancholy. Burton, who believed in judicial astrology, is said to have foretold, from a calculation of his vativity, the time of bis own death, which occurred at the period he predicted, in January 1639-40, but not without some suspicion of its having been occasioned by his own hand. In his epitaph at Oxfor i, written by himself, he is described as having lived and died by melancholy. He had not practised his own maxim :

Give not way to solitariness and idleness—be not solitary, be not idle.'

Love. Boccace hath a pleasant tale to this purpose, which he borrowed from the Greeks, and which Beroaldus hath turned into Latin, Bebelius into verse, of Cymon and Iphigenia. This Cymon was a fool, a proper man of person, and the governor of Cyprus' son, but a very ass; insomuch that his father being ashamed of him, sent him to a farm-house he had in the country, to be brought up; where by chauce, as his manner was, walking alone, he espied a gallant young gentlewoman named Iphigenia, a burgomaster's daughter of Cyprus, with her maid, hy a brook side, in a little thicket, fast asleep in her smock, where she had newly bathed her self. When Cymon saw her, he stood leaning on his stall, gaping on her immovable, and in a maze: at last he fell so far in love with the glorious object, that he began to rouse himself up; to bethink what he was; would needs follow her to the city, and for her sake began to be civil, to learn to sing and dance, to play on instruments, and got all those gentleman-like qualities and compliments in a short space, which his friends were most glad of. In brief, he became from an idiot and a clown, to be one of the most complete gentlemen in Cyprus; did many valorous exploits, and all for the love of Mistress Iphigenia. In a word, I may say thus much of them all, let them be never so clownish, rude and horrid, Grobians and sluts, if once they be in love, they will be most neat and spruce; for, Omnibus rebus, et nitiilis witoribus antevenit amor; they will folow the fashion, begin to trick up, and to have a good opinion of themselves ; venustatum enim mater Venus; a ship is not so long a-rigging, as a young gentlewoman a-trimming up herself against her sweetheart comes. A painter's shop, a flowery nieadow, 110 so gracious an aspect in Nature's storehouse as a young maid, nubilis puella, a Novitsa or Venetian bride, that looks for an husband; or a young man that is her suitor; conposed looks, composed gait, clothes, gestures, actions, all composed; all the graces, elegancies. in the world, are in her face. Their best robes, ribbons, chains, jewels, lawns, linens, laces, spangles, must come on, præter quam res patitur student elegantice, they are beyond all measure coy, nice, and too curious on a sudden. Tis all

their study, all their business, how to wear their clothes neat, to be polite and terse, and to set out themselves. No sooner doth a young man see his sweetheart coming, but he smugs up himself, pnlls up his cloak, now fallen about his shonlders, ties his garters, points, sets his baud, cuits, slicks his hair, twires his beard, &c.

Study: a Cure for Melancholy. Amorgst exercises or recreations of the mind within-doors, there is none so general, so aptly to be applied to all sorts of men, so fit and proper to expel idleness and melancholy, as that of study. What so full of content as to read, walk, and see maps, pictures, statues, jewels, marbles, which some so much magnify as those that Phidias made of old, so exquisite and pleasing to be beheld, that, as Chrysostom thinketh, if any man be sickly, troubled in mind, or that cannot sleep for grief, and shall but stand over against one of Phidias' images, he will forget all care, or whatsoever else may molest him, in an instant. There be those as much taken with Michael Angelo's, Raphael de Urbino's, Francesco Francia’s pieces, and many of those Italian and Dutch painters, which were excellent in their age; and esteem of it as a most pleasing sight to view those peat architectures, devices, scutcheons, coats of arms, read such books, to peruse old coins of several sorts in a fair gallery, artificial works, perspective glasses, old reliques, Roman antiquities, variety of colours.

A good picture is falsa veritas, et muta poesis, and though (as Vives saith), artificialia delectant, sed mox fastidimus, artificial toys please but for a time ; yet who is he that will not be moved with them for the present? When Achilles was tormented and sad for the loss of his dear friend Patroclus, his mother Thetis brought him a inost elaborate and curious buckler made by Vulcan, in which were engraven sun, moon, stars, planets, sea, land, men fighting, running, riding, women scolding, hills, dales, towns, castles, brooks, rivers, trees, &c.; with many pretty landskips and perspective pieces ; with sight of which he was infinitely delighted.

King James (1605), when he came to see our university at Oxford, and amongst other edifices, now went to view that famous library, renewed by Sir Thomas Bodley, in imitation of Alexander, at his departure, brake out into that noble speech: If I were not a king, I would be an university man; and if it were so that I must be a prisoner, if I might have my wish, I would desire to have no other prisou than that library, and to be chained together with so many good authors, et mortuis magistris.' So sweet is the delight of study, the more learning they have-as he that hath a dropsy, the more he drinks, the thirstier he is—the more they covet to learn, and the last day is prioris discipulus; harsh at first, learning is radices amarqe, but fructus dulces, according to that of Isocrates, pleasant at last; the longer they live, the more they are enamoured with the Muses. Heinsius, the keeper of the library at Leyden in Holland, was mewed up in it all the year long; and that which, to thy thinking, should have bred a loathing, caused in him a greater liking. I no sooner,' saith he, come into the library, but I bolt the door to me, excluding Lust, Ambition, Avarice, and all such vices, whose nurse is Idleness, their mother Ignorance, and Melancholy herself; and in the very lap of eternity, amongst so many divine souls, I take my seat, with so lofty a spirit and sweet content, that I pity all our great ones and rich men, that know not this happiness. I am not ignorant in the meantime, notwithstanding this which I have said, how barbarously and basely our ruder gentry esteem of libraries and books, how they neglect and contemn so great a treasure, so inestimable à benefit, as sop's cock did the jewel he found in the dunghill; and all through error, ignorance, and want of education. And 'tis a wonder withal to observe how much they will valnly cast away in unnecessary expenses, what in hawks, hounds, lawsuits, vain building, gormandising, drinking, sports, plays, pastimes, &c.

Love of Gaming and Immoderate Pleasures. It is a wonder to see how many poor, distressed, miserable wretches one shall meet almost in cvery path and street, begging for an alms, that have been well descended, and sometimes in flourishing estate; now ragged, tattered, and ready to be starved, lingering out a painful life in discontent and grief of body and of mind, and all through immoderate lust, gaming, pleasure, and riot. 'Tis the common end of all sensual epicures and brutish prodigals, that are stupetied and carried away headlong with their several pleasures and lusts. Cebes, in his • Table, St. Ambrose in his second book of 'Abel and Cain,' and

amongst the rest, Lucian, in his tract, ‘De Mer


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