It is the mind that maketh good or ill, That maketh wretch of happy, rich or poor; For wisdom is most riches ; fools therefore 5 THE MINISTRY OF ANGELS. AND is there care in Heaven? And is there love There is: else much more wretched were the case To come to succour us that succour want! How oft do they with golden pinions cleave They for us fight, they watch and duly ward, SIR PHILIP SIDNEY.-Born, 1554; Died, 1586. Famous as the ideal of an accomplished scholar, a man of genius, a brave soldier, a noble gentleman, and one of the most generous of men. He was killed at the skirmish of Zutphen, in Holland, at the age of 32, and was buried with great pomp in Old St. Paul's. Besides some poems, he wrote a prose romance, called "Arcadia." SLEEP. COME, Sleep, O Sleep! the certain knot of peace,1 I will good tribute pay, if thou do so. 3 flitting skies, the skies that seem to fly away from behind them as they glide so swiftly. ✦ poursuivants, a royal messenger, lit. an attendant on the Heralds. 5 by fighting for us. 'knot of peace, that which knits or binds peace to us. 2 baiting-place of wit. Our wearied wit or intellect refreshes itself in sleep, as the body does by food. Bait is from bite. 3 shield of proof, which can turn off the darts of despair. 4 wars between opposing principles in himself Take thou of me smooth pillows, sweetest bed; 6 And if these things, as being thine by right, Lyly was born in Kent, and attended both Universities. He is chiefly known for having invented a bombastic style of writing, which was known as Euphuism, and is ridiculed by Shakspeare. There is nothing of it in the following exquisite lines, however. CUPID AND CAMPASPÉ. CUPID1 and my Campaspé2 played 3 He staked his quiver, bow, and arrows; Growing on 's cheek, but, none knows how, 5 He gives these things to Sleep to 6 bring not sleep. 7 the image of her whom he loves will fill his soul in its sleepless hours. 1 Cupid, the God of Love. 2 Campaspe, the writer's lady-love. 3 Cupid is painted with these. 4 Venus, Cupid's mother, had a chariot drawn by doves, and the sparrow was sacred to her 5 Cupid is fabled as blind. 8 DR. THOS. LODGE.-Born, 1556; Died, 1625 He was from Lincoln, and was educated at Oxford; practised as a physician in London, and died of the plague, in 1625. He wrote several plays, and translated Josephus. ROSALIND'S MADRIGAL. 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 amid my tender breast; My kisses are his daily feast, And yet he robs me of my rest: And if I sleep, then pierceth he And makes his pillow of my knee The live-long night. Strike I my lute, he tunes the string, He lends me every lovely thing, Yet, cruel, he my heart doth sting; Else I with roses, every day, Will whip you hence, And bind ye, when ye long to play, For your offence; I'll shut my eyes to keep you in, What if I beat the wanton boy With many a rod ? He will repay me with annoy, Then sit thou safely on my knec, Spare not, but play thee! CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE.-Born, 1562: Died, 1593. A dramatic writer of high promise. He was an M.A. of Cambridge, and immediately preceded Shakspeare as an author. He died at the age of thirty-one, in a disgraceful quarrel. THE PASSIONATE SHEPHERD TO HIS LOVE. COME live with me and be my love, And we will sit upon the rocks, I like thee. 2 madrigal, lit., a shepherd's song. |