named no names but Hate, and Envy, and Lust, and Avarice, is like one of the endictments in the Pilgrim's Progress, where Faithful is arraigned for having "railed on our noble Prince Beelzebub, and spoken contemptibly of his honourable friends, the Lord Old Man, the Lord Carnal Delight, and the Lord Luxurious." What unlucky jealousy could have tempted the great men of those days to appropriate such innocent abstractions to themselves! Wither seems to have contemplated to a degree of idolatry his own possible virtue. He is for ever anticipating persecution and martyrdom; fingering, as it were, the flames, to try how he can bear them. Perhaps his premature defiance sometimes made him obnoxious to censures which he would otherwise have slipped by. The homely versification of these satires is not likely to attract in the present day. It is certainly not such as we should expect from a poet "soaring in the high region of his fancies with his garland and his singing robes about him ;"* noi is it such as he has shown in his Philarete, and in some parts of his Shepherds Hunting. He seems to have adopted this dress with voluntary humility, as fittest for a moral teacher, as our divines choose sober gray or black; but in their humility consists their sweetness. The deepest tone of moral feeling in them (though all throughout is weighty, earnest, and passionate) is in those pathetic injunctions against shedding of blood in quarrels, in the chapter entitled Revenge. The story of his own forbearance, which follows, is highly interesting. While the Christian sings his own victory over Anger, the Man of Courage cannot help peeping out to let you know, that it was some higher principle than fear which counselled this forbearance. Whether encaged, or roaming at liberty, Wither never seems to have abated a jot of that free spirit which sets its mark upon his writings, as much as a predominant feature of independence impresses every page of our late glorious Burns; but the elder poet wraps his proof-armour closer about him, the other wears his too much outward; he is thinking too much of annoying the foe, to be quite easy within; the spiritual defences of Wither are a perpetual source of inward sunshine, the magnanimity of the modern is not without its alloy of soreness, and a sense of injustice, which seems perpetually to gall and irritate. Wither was better skilled in the "sweet uses of adversity," he knew how to extract the "precious jewel" from the head of the " toad," without drawing any of the "ugly * Milton. venom" along with it. The prison notes of Wither are finer than the wood notes of most of his poetical brethren. The description in the Fourth Eglogue of his Shepherds Hunting (which was composed during his imprisonment in the Marshalsea) of the power of the muse to extract pleasure from common objects, has been oftener quoted, and is more known, than any part of his writings. Indeed, the whole Eglogue is in a strain so much above not only what himself, but almost what any other poet has written, that he himself could not help noticing it; he remarks, that his spirits had been raised higher than they were wont "through the love of poesy." The praises of poetry have been often sung in ancient and in modern times; strange powers have been ascribed to it of influence over animate and inanimate auditors; its force over fascinated crowds has been acknowledged; but, before Wither, no one ever celebrated its power at home, the wealth and the strength which this divine gift confers upon its possessor. Fame, and that, too, after death, was all which hitherto the poets had promised themselves from their art. It seems to have been left to Wither to discover, that poetry was a present possession, as well as a rich reversion, and that the muse had promise of both lives, of this, and of that which was to come. The Mistress of Philarete is in substance a panegyric protracted through several thousand lines in the mouth of a single speaker, but diversified so as to produce an almost dramatic effect, by the artful introduction of some ladies, who are rather auditors than interlocutors in the scene; and of a boy, whose singing furnishes pretence for an occasional change of metre: though the seven-syllable line, in which the main part of it is written, is that in which Wither has shown himself so great a master, that I do not know that I am always thankful to him for the exchange. Wither has chosen to bestow upon the lady whom he commends the name of Arete, or Virtue; and, assuming to himself the character of Philarete, or Lover of Virtue, there is a sort of propriety in that heaped measure of perfections, which he attributes to this partly real, partly allegorical personage. Drayton before him had shadowed his mistress under the name of Idea, or Perfect Pattern, and some of the old Italian love-strains are couched in such religious terms as to make it doubtful, whether it be a mistress or Divine Grace which the poet is addressing. In this poem (full of beauties) there are two passages of pre-eminent merit. The first is where the lover, after a flight of rapturous commendation, expresses his wonder why all named no names but Hate, and Envy, and Lust, and Wither seems to have contemplated to a his own possible virtue. He is for ever a tion and martyrdom; fingering, as it wer how he can bear them. Perhaps his prer times made him obnoxious to censures wise have slipped by. : .d be wing owing. ould there perfections, The homely versification of these attract in the present day. It is should expect from a poet "soaring fancies with his garland and his sin is it such as he has shown in his of his Shepherds Hunting. He dress with voluntary humility, as our divines choose sober g mility consists their sweetnes feeling in them (though all th passionate) is in those path of blood in quarrels, in the story of his own forbearanc ing. While the Christiar the Man of Courage can that it was some higher this forbearance. Whether encaged, c to have abated a jot of his writings, as muc ence impresses eve the elder poet wra other wears his t of annoying the fences of Withe the magnanimit ness, and a se gall and irritat uses of adversit from the head as been comparing her beauties most excellent things in nature; hyperbole, the common charge him, self by boldly taking upon no hyperboles; but that the best ver's eye, fall short of those excelher. earls, what rubies can * gave such delight, e we are long repeating. In the Shepherds Hunti g If thy verse doth bravely tower Then she rests with fame at last." ger measure can go beyond the majesty of this! what Alexandrine long in pronouncing, or expresses labour slowly but strongly surmountulty with the life with which it is done in the second of these lines? t metre could go beyond these, from Philarete men that are about his mistress, even to her very servants, do not view her with the same eye that he does. "Sometimes I do admire All men burn not with desire: Some good judgments blind should be Which beholdeth her, should there All, o'ercome by those perfections, She for lovers should not rest.' The other is, where he has been comparing her beauties to gold, and stars, and the most excellent things in nature; and, fearing to be accused of hyperbole, the common charge against poets, vindicates himself by boldly taking upon him, that these comparisons are no hyperboles; but that the best things in nature do, in a lover's eye, fall short of those excellences which he adores in her. "What pearls, what rubies can |