But why, Antigone, do I detain you from that to which I long to hasten. After they had left, preparation was made for celebrating the mercy once shown by the god Apollo to the inhabitants of this city. At the conclusion, Adrastus, intreating our attention, explained to us the cause of the astonishment with which he was overwhelmed on our first entrance. It was a strange story,* and tells how the gods above, in very truth, delight to sport themselves with the affairs of men. In Tydeus and myself Adrastus had beheld the unexpected unravelling of a mysterious oracle, the interpretation of which had often racked his imagination, and long defied his ingenuity. Many princes, both from the various parts of the Peloponnesus and from more distant regions, attracted either by the well-known fame of Adrastus, or by the reported beauty of Argia and Deiphyle, came to seek the honour of his alliance; yet in none of these had he been able to recognize any of the peculiar marks by which, according to the response, his destined sons-in-law were to be distinguished. It was the unexpected discovery of those marks in the exiles Tydeus and Polynices, that occasioned the sudden astonishment with which the king was seized upon our entrance. I will not attempt to describe the feelings which agitated my breast when Adrastus, after the narration of this unparalleled history, inquired whether we were willing to follow the guidance of fate, and to embrace the honours which the gods themselves had laid at our feet. My steps are still, Antigone, attended by the venerable deities, leading me by the hand in the path which it is their will that I should follow; yet now is their frown converted into a smile, and the path that led of late through dark and dangerous ways, now lies among cheering scenes, and beneath an open sky. It must be thus; could otherwise the gentle and retiring Argia have lent a willing ear to the love-suit of an exile and a stranger? And now, at last, is the light of day dawning upon the fortunes of Polynices. O soon will the gods, who delight not in an imperfect boon, grant to him to lead as a queen, in triumphal procession along the streets of his paternal Thebes, his beloved Argia! * It had been declared by an oracle to Adrastus, that his daughters should be married to a lion and a boar. On the appearance of Tydeus and Polynices habited respectively in the skin of a boar and of a lion, he supposed that thus was explained the ambiguity of the response, and that the two strangers were the persons marked out by the fates to be his future sons-in-law. ANTIGONE TO POLYNICES. Alas! my brother, that I cannot unite with you in the exultation and hope with which you look forward to your future fortunes! Often since that unhappy day when we parted at the gate, yourself to leave, as it seemed for ever, our beloved Thebes, I to return to our desolated home, and there meditate in sadness upon the miserable past and the threatening future, have I thought of you with much uncertainty and deep anxiety. Had you been helpless and broken in spirit, like him who is now at rest, you know that Antigone would never have allowed you to combat with misfortune alone. And though no longer able to cheer and delight you by those expressions of sympathy which the absent cannot impart, yet have you constantly been present in my memory. It may be that I am too prone to melancholy thought and gloomy foreboding, but I cannot banish from my mind the remembrance that the misfortunes of our family have hitherto been preceded, if not immediately caused, by circumstances which at the time held out the promise of increasing greatness and lasting prosperity. And though from the miseries of exile and poverty you have been elevated to the honours of a royal and a powerful alliance, and so far does it seem as if the Erinnys of our father had ceased to pursue you; yet, my brother, can that be esteemed a well-omened marriage, in which a stranger lit the nuptial torch, and no voice of joy to greet your bride resounded through your native streets? May Heaven avert the evil omen! The gods love not that ill should befall those who observe and reverence justice; nor, surely, will they permit that one who, through his own generous confidence, has been driven from his home, should continue long to suffer undeserved calamities. Only beware, Polynices, that the injuries which you have received do not urge you to the contemplation of an unholy revenge. It is a daring thing to put limits to the power of the venerable deities, yet have I heard that Tiresias has said, that men often ascribe to the operation of Fate, the misfortunes which are nothing but the inevitable result of their own unbridled passions. I could not read your letter without noticing indications of a spirit that filled me with alarm. Eteocles has injured you; yet, is he not your brother? What calamity, what horror, has not risen terribly before my eyes, as I have gazed upon the future! Oh! seek not yet, Polynices, to return to Thebes. Eteocles is of a lofty unbending spirit. Opposition will but make him persist more obstinately in the wrong which he has done. Surely he will cease ere long to listen to the counsellor of evil, and then will your sisters once more be made happy by the happiness of those who are so dear to them. Destroy not this hopeful prospect by a rashness that will admit no remedy. In your hands is now placed the destiny of our family. By whom should I be heard, if Polynices will not listen? You will not then turn away from my entreaty, nor humble me by proving that your love for Antigone is less mighty than your anger at Eteocles. I am sure you will not be angry with me for writing of things which are fitter subjects for the deliberation of wise and experienced men, than of a timid girl, since it was yourself that by your sweet commendations encouraged my foolishness to speak gravely of weighty matters. Ismene wept when I told her of your foreign marriage, but her mind is of too cheerful a cast to retain its sorrows long, and already her tears are forgotten in her curiosity about your newly-chosen bride. Argia will be to us both a beloved sister for her husband's sake. Many a flower for the maiden Welcome! welcome! beauteous youngster! Nature's child of love, With thy little flower-basket Welcome to the grove! R. X. ART. VIII. SIR PHILIP SIDNEY. Few popular prepossessions rest on better grounds, than that which, in the minds of all true Englishmen, surrounds the "golden days of good Queen Bess," with a halo of peculiar lustre. In that era of national prosperity and glory, while the arms of England defeated the enterprises of the most powerful monarch of the age, and its policy baffled all the combinations of its enemies, Shakspeare and Spenser sang in those lofty and harmonious strains, which can only perish with the rich and stately language that has become the mother-tongue of nations dwelling in the uttermost parts of the earth; Bacon taught fancy to minister to philosophy, and both to serve the cause of truth and knowledge; Hooker, the Corinthian column of the church, supported it with all the strength of his splendid and dignified eloquence; and Coke planted the keystone in the arch of the common law. Round the throne was ranged that venerable band of ministers, whose names have become synonymous with statesmanlike gravity, wisdom, and resolution; while standing out in bright relief from that majestic throng, and drest in the picturesque colours of an age which had already passed away, are seen the chivalrous forms of Sidney, of Raleigh, and of Essex--models of knightly valour and courtesy and generosity, without fear and without reproach. With the great constitutional struggle, the beginning of which was already apparent in the reign of Elizabeth, the imaginative element in a great measure disappeared from the character of our public men. The system of domestic as well as foreign policy became more complex; results were obtained less through individual energy, than through extensive combination. A change took place in the movements of the social and political system, analogous to that which machinery has effected in the processes of labour. The variations, the capricious and irregular efforts, which always mark the immediate operation of the human will and intellect, yielded to that steady and uniform action, which denotes that the ruling mind has effected its object, by means of a long intermediate train of mechanical agents. As the sphere of personal action became contracted, the traits of individual character grew less strongly marked, and the chivalrous spirit whose very essence it was to inculcate self-dependence, and to develope those faculties which give vigour and power to the solitary man, rapidly faded away. The last representatives of knighthood in this country, a bright constellation, in which the subject of this sketch shines with conspicuous lustre, united with the heroic character of their generous predecessors, the refined and cultivated intellect, and the polished taste, which can only belong to an age in which civilization has made great progress. These gallant cavaliers served the muses as diligently as the ruder goddess of war, tempered their martial zeal with the lessons of statesmanlike wisdom, and devoted their pens to illustrating, with elegance and spirit, the sentiments by which their lives were guided. Philip Sidney was born at Penshurst, in the county of Kent, in the year 1554. His father was Sir Henry Sidney, a brave soldier and accomplished gentleman, who filled with reputation the high offices of Lord President of Wales and Lord Deputy of Ireland. His mother was Mary, the eldest daughter of the unfortunate Dudley Duke of Northumberland. The young Sidney received the name of Philip, out of compliment to the king of Spain, the husband of Mary of England. In his fifteenth year he was admitted a member of the University of Oxford, and pursued his studies there under the learned Doctor Thomas Thornton, who numbered among his pupils the celebrated antiquary Camden, and many other distinguished persons. Sidney afterwards studied for some time at Cambridge, and is said to have acquired a complete knowledge of the Latin and Greek languages. In his eighteenth year he set out on his travels, being specially recommended by his uncle, the Earl of Leicester, to the care of Sir Francis Walsingham, then ambassador at Paris, whose daughter he afterwards married. In the house of Walsingham, Sidney found protection on the night of the massacre of St. Bartholomew. Having escaped from this danger, he proceeded on his travels through Germany, Italy, and the Netherlands. While lodging at Frankfort with Andrew Wechel, a celebrated printer, he became acquainted with Hubert Languet, with |