is the earnest desire of men, whatever they may pretend to the contrary, as well as of women. There was no flattery in telling the earl's son that he surpassed all others in form and feature, while it was an acknowledged truth; and there was no flattery in attempting to immortalize in verse his beauty more than in a Raffaelle or a Titian, when they give us the youth of both sexes glowing in their best looks on the canvas. There was only the error in hoping that poetry could represent a face like painting. Shakespeare, indeed, does no more than attempt the task ; he sees how impossible it is to describe form by words, and contents himself with assuring posterity that his friend was, beyond all other men, excellent in beauty.

If some passages in these poems should be considered excessive, let it be remembered that the fashion of the day has changed; that the language of gratitude or friendship is strong, and that when uttered by the aid of poetry, it is unconscious of excess. When these compliments were handed about in manuscript among the wits of the age, as we know from Meres they were, they met with no comments on the score of flattery; no reproach was cast on the poet, for attempting to cajole a young nobleman by commending his person. All was then praise;

because both the subject and the poetry were in the taste of the day; and because, no doubt, every one knew, that, on this theme, the youth could not be flattered.

My first intention was to paraphrase one of these poems, stanza by stanza, in order to prove its unbroken continuity; and I had fixed on the second,

for the purpose, on account of its superior interest. I have since resolved on paraphrasing all those addressed to his friend, or, it may be called, translating them into plain prose, giving the purport of every stanza, one after the other, and omitting nothing but illustration, or amplification, of the same thought; in one word, nothing that appears to me essential to the sense. My reasons for this change of intention, are, first: As not one tenth of the editions of Shakespeare include his poems, it may readily be imagined that many of my readers have it not in their power immediately to judge for themselves of the correctness of my explanation. And, secondly: Men will not readily accede to an easy and simple solution of what has long been considered a complicated difficulty; and therefore it is my duty to omit no means that can tend to make myself completely understood. The first poem may be read as follows.

Stanza 1. In order that beauty may never die, we desire offspring from the fairest creatures; but you, loving none but yourself, are your own enemy. You, that are now the world's fresh ornament, are burying happiness in its bud, and committing waste by parsimony. If you have not pity, you, together with the grave, will deprive the world of its due.

2. Should you be asked, when your youth is no more, where is your beauty? where your lustihood? it would be shameful and unavailing to reply,-" Within my own deepsunken eyes." How much more praise-worthy would it be you could answer,—" This fair child of mine shall sum up my count, and make my old excuse,”—proving himself your

if

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successor in beauty. This were to be young again in age; to see your blood warm, when you feel it cold.

3. Look in your glass, and tell your face it is now time there should be a copy formed of it. If that duty is neglected, the world is cheated, and some mother unblessed. For what virgin disdains to be your wife? What man is so foolish as to permit the love of self to thwart the love of offspring? Your mother sees herself in you, in the lovely April of her days; so you, hereafter, in spite of wrinkles, may see yourself as you are now. But if you live and die single, your resemblance is for ever lost.

4. Why is your profitless beauty confined within itself? Nature gives nothing, but frankly lends to the free; then, niggard of beauty, why do you not convert her gifts to use? A miser without usance, why can you not live by the use of such large sums? You deceive yourself in your own self-love. What account can you render to Nature when she calls you hence? By not putting your beauty to use, it will die without being your executor.

5. Those hours which nursed you on from infancy, will at length tyrannically wither your fair qualities; for summer must be led on to winter, and then, if there is no distillation from the summer, all remembrance of it is gone. But flowers distilled lose but their show; their substance lives sweet in winter.

6. Then allow not winter to come ere your substance is distilled. Before your beauty is withered by time, treasure it elsewhere. Usance is not forbidden, if it makes all parties happy; that is, to breed another self for yourself; or, if ten selves for one, you are ten times happier. Then what could death do against you, leaving your posterity? Be not self-willed, for you are too fair to be subdued by death.

7. Lo! when the gracious light rises in the east, all men

pay homage; then, when it climbs, like strong youth, to its height, all adore it still; but when it declines, like feeble age, it is disregarded; so none will regard you, if you die childless.

8. Since joy delights in joy, why are you sad when music plays? If the married unions of music offend your ear, they but sweetly reprove your singleness. Mark! how one string is in concord with another; like father, mother, and child, producing together one harmonious song, which seems to tell you, "This you will lose in singleness !"

9. Is it for fear of making a weeping widow, that you do not marry? Ah! if you die childless, the world, widow-like, will wail you, because it possesses not your image, while every private widow has that consolation. If money is wasted, it but shifts its place in the world, for others to enjoy; but if beauty is wasted, it ends in the world, and is lost. In all this you show no love towards others.

10. For shame! you seem to own more hate than love, even for yourself. Be changed, that I may change my mind. At least be kind and gracious to yourself; and for my sake, make another self of yourself.

The

11. As fast as you wane, your son would grow. world would be at an end in sixty years, if all were of your mind. Let the ill-favoured perish; but nature intended that you should leave copies of yourself.

12. When I observe the progress of time, and see every thing decay, I fear lest your beauty should also be destroyed by time; since nothing but offspring can brave his power.

13. O that you were yourself! that you would prepare betimes to bequeath your resemblance !-My dear friend, you had a father; let a son say the same of you.

14. I do not, from the stars, tell fortunes or make

prophecies; but I derive knowledge from those constant stars-your eyes,-signifying that truth and beauty will proceed from you in your progeny, or, failing so, they will both die with you.

15. When I consider how fading and short-lived is every thing, and that you are most rich in youth, while time threatens to change you, I am at war with time.

16. But why do you not make efficient war against time? and fortify yourself in your decay more blessedly than with my barren verse? Many maidens virtuously desire to bear your living image; so should time be defeated better than by my pen.

17. Who would hereafter put faith in my verse, if I were to speak worthily in your praise? The age to come would call it a romance; but were some descendant of yours alive, you would live both in it and in my rhyme.

18. I will not compare you to a summer's day, for that is short-lived, and may be changeable; but your summer shall be eternal, because, so long as men can breathe, or eyes can see, this verse shall make you live.

19. Devouring Time! do whate'er thou wilt, still I forbid thee one most heinous crime;-O carve not with thy hours my friend's fair brow! Yet do thy worst, old Time, my friend shall in my verse live ever young.

20. You, the woman-like master of my heart, have a woman's face; while you excel a woman in mind. You were first created for a woman; till Nature, falling in love with her work, made a man of you; defeating me of you, and making you nothing to my purpose. But since she appointed you for woman's pleasure, let it be so; and mine be your friendship.

21. My muse is not inspired by a counterfeit beauty, and seeking for proud comparisons. O let me, true in