She lights on that, and this, and tasteth all, But, pleasd with none, doth rise and soare away. So, when the soule finds here no true content, And, like Noah's dove, can no sure footing take, She doth returne from whence she first was sent, And flies to him that first her wings did make. Davies also wrote a series of Hymns to Astrea in acrostics to the glory of ELISA BETHA REGINA, and some of his shorter poems were printed in Davison's Rapsody and other collections. He wrote in prose on law subjects and the state of Ireland, and edited in the Norman-French still current a collection of Cases et matters in Ley resolues and adjudjes en les Courts del Roy en cest Realme [i.e. Ireland]. His wife, Lady Eleanor Davies, also a poetess, turned prophetess on the strength of the anagram on her name, Reveal O Daniel, and was not cured by the counter-anagram of the witty Dean of Arches, Never so mad a ladie! Sir John's works were printed by Grosart in the Fuller Worthies' (3 vols. 1869–76); the complete poems in the 'Old English Poets' (2 vols. 1876). John Davies of Hereford (1565?-1618), poet, was of Welsh descent, and is sometimes spoken of as the Welsh poet. He became famous as a writing-master, and practised this profession in Oxford and London. But he found time to write a vast number (too great!) of poems, longer and shorter, on sacred, philosophical, and other themes, eclogues, elegies, and eulogies, for the most part in a very tedious manner. Mirum in Modum discusses in verse God's glory and the soul's shape; Microcosmus deals with psychology. Some of his sonnets are good, and there was a noted poem on The Picture of an Happy Man, full of antitheses of the nature of solemn puns, and beginning thus: How blest is he though ever crost that can all Crosses Blessings make; That findes himself ere he be lost, and lose that found for Vertues sake. Yea blest is he in life and death, that feares not Death nor loves this Life; That sets his Will his wit beneath, and hath continuall peace in strife. . . and ends: This Man is great with little state, Who with staid Front outfaces Fate, and being emptie is suffic'd, ... Or is suffic'd with little, sith at least He makes his Conscience a continuall Feast. His poems fill two large quarto volumes of Dr Alexander B. Grosart's Chertsey Worthies Library' (1873). Sir Robert Carey, or CARY, first Earl of Monmouth (c.1560–1639), wrote one of the earliest autobiographies in the language. Tenth son of Lord Hunsdon, he served upon several embassies, fought by land and sea, was a warden of the Border marches, was knighted by Essex in 1591, and became Baron of Leppington in 1622, Earl of Monmouth in 1626. His interesting Memoirs were edited by the Earl of Cork and Orrery in 1759, and by Scott in 1808. In 1589 Carey walked for a wager from London to Berwick (342 miles) in twelve days, and won £2000; in March 1603 he rode from near London to Edinburgh in about sixty hours, to bring the news of Queen Elizabeth's death to James VI., in direct defiance of the orders of the Government, who were preparing to despatch a dignified and formal commission, which arrived two days after Carey (see page 395). me, : A Scottish Raider. There was a favourite of Sir Robert Car's, a great thief, called Geordie Bourne. This gallant, with some of his associates, would in a bravery come and take goods in the East March. I had that night some of the garrison abroad. They met with this Geordie and his fellows, driving of cattle before them. The garrison set upon them, and with a shot killed Geordie Bourne's uncle, and he himself, bravely resisting, till he was sore hurt in the head, was taken. After he was taken, his pride was such as he asked who it was that durst avow that night's work? But when he heard it was the garrison, he was then more quiet. But so powerful and awful was this Sir Robert Car and his favourites, as there was not a gentleman in all the East March that durst offend them. Presently after he was taken, I had most of the gentlemen of the March come to me, and told me that now I had the ball at my foot, and might bring Sir Robert Car to what condition I pleased; for that this man's life was so near and dear unto him, as I should have all that my heart could desire for the good and quiet of the country and myself, if upon any condition I would give him his life. I heard them and their reasons; notwithstanding, I called a jury the next morning, and he was found guilty of March-treason Then they feared that I would cause him to be executed that afternoon, which made them come flocking to me, humbly intreating me that I would spare his life till the next day and if Sir Robert Car came not himself to and made me not such proffers as I could not but accept, that then I should do with him what I pleased. And further, they told me plainly that if I should execute him before I had heard from Sir Robert Car, they must be forced to quit their houses and fly the country; for his fury would be such against me and the March I commanded, as he would use all his power and strength to the utter destruction of the East March. They were so earnest with me that I gave them my word he should not die that day. There was post upon post sent to Sir Robert Car; and some of them rode to him themselves to advertise him in what danger Geordie Bourne was: how he was condemned, and should have been executed that afternoon, but by their humble suit I gave them my word that he should not die that day; and therefore besought him that he would send to me with all the speed he could, to let me know that he would be the next day with me, to offer me good conditions for the safety of his life. When all things were quiet, and the watch set at night, after supper, about ten of the clock, I took one of my men's liveries, and put it about me, and took two other of my servants with me in their liveries, and we three, as the Warden's men, came to the Provost Marshal's where Bourne was, and were let into his chamber. We sat down by him, and told him that we were desirous to see him, because we heard he was stout and valiant, and true to his friend; and that we were sorry our master could not be moved to save his life. He voluntarily of himself said, that he had lived long enough to do so many villanies as he had done; and withal told us that he had lain with above forty men's wives, what in England, what in Scotland; and that he had killed seven Englishmen with his own hands, cruelly murdering them: that he had spent his whole time in whoring, drinking, stealing, and taking deep revenge for slight offences. He seemed to be very penitent, and much desired a minister for the comfort of his soul. We promised him to let our master know his desire, who, we knew, would presently grant it. We took our leaves of him; and presently I took order that Mr Selby, a very worthy honest preacher, should go to him, and not stir from him till his execution the next morning: for after I had heard his own confession, I was resolved no conditions should save his life; and so took order that at the gates opening the next morning he should be carried to execution, which accordingly was performed. The Sir Robert Car of Carey's story was Sir Robert Ker of Cessford, warden-depute of the Middle Marches in 1594, who played a conspicuous part in the stirring history of the time. He was himself put in ward as a raider by Lord Hunsdon, had to do with more slaughters than one, was more than once denounced a rebel and had to flee his country, but in 1600 was created Lord Roxburghe, and in 1616 Earl of Roxburghe. The Dying of Queen Elizabeth. I took my journey about the end of the year 1602. When I came to court, I found the Queen ill disposed, and she kept her inner lodging; yet she, hearing of my arrival, sent for me. I found her in one of her withdrawing chambers, sitting low upon her cushions. She called me to her; I kissed her hand, and told her it was my chiefest happiness to see her in safety, and in health, which I wished might long continue. She took me by the hand, and wrung it hard, and said, 'No, Robin, I am not well,' and then discoursed with me of her indisposition, and that her heart had been sad and heavy for ten or twelve days; and in her discourse, she fetched not so few as forty or fifty great sighs. I was grieved at the first to see her in this plight; for in all my lifetime before, I never knew her fetch a sigh, but when the Queen of Scots was beheaded. Then, upon my knowledge, she shed many tears and sighs, manifesting her innocence, that she never gave consent to the death of that Queen. I used the best words I could, to persuade her from this melancholy humour; but I found by her it was too deep-rooted in her heart, and hardly to be removed. This was upon a Saturday night, and she gave command, that the great closet should be prepared for her to go to chapel the next morning. The next day, all things being in a readiness, we long expected her coming. After eleven o'clock, one of the grooms came out, and bade make ready for the private closet; she would not go to the great. There we stayed long for her coming, but at the last she had cushions laid for her in the privy chamber hard by the closet door, and there she heard service. From that day forwards, she grew worse and worse. She remained upon her cushions four days and nights at the least. All about her could not persuade her, either to take any sustenance, or go to bed. The Queen grew worse and worse, because she would be so, none about her being able to persuade her to go to bed. My Lord Admiral was sent for, (who, by reason of my sister's death, that was his wife, had absented himself some fortnight from court;) what by fair means, what by force, he got her to bed. There was no hope of her recovery, because she refused all remedies. On Wednesday, the 23d of March, she grew speech less. That afternoon, by signs, she called for her council, and by putting her hand to her head, when the king of Scots was named to succeed her, they all knew he was the man she desired should reign after her. About six at night she made signs for Archbishop Whitgift and her chaplains to come to her, at which time I went in with them, and sat upon my knees full of tears to see that heavy sight. Her Majesty lay upon her back, with one hand in the bed, and the other without. The bishop kneeled down by her, and examined her first of her faith; and she so punctually answered all his several questions, by lifting up her eyes, and holding up her hand, as it was a comfort to all the beholders. Then the good man told her plainly what she was, and what she was to come to; and though she had been long a great Queen here upon earth, yet shortly she was to yield an account of her stewardship to the King of kings. After this he began to pray, and all that were by did answer him. After he had continued long in prayer, till the old man's knees were weary, he blessed her, and meant to rise and leave her. The Queen made a sign with her hand. My sister Scroop knowing her meaning, told the bishop the Queen desired he would pray still. He did so for a long half hour after, and then thought to leave her. The second time she made sign to have him continue in prayer. He did so for half an hour more, with earnest cries to God for her soul's health, which he uttered with that fervency of spirit, as the Queen, to all our sight, much rejoiced thereat, and gave testimony to us all of her Christian and comfortable end. By this time it grew late, and every one departed, all but her women that attended her. This that I heard with my ears, and did see with my eyes, I thought it my duty to set down, and to affirm it for a truth, upon the faith of a Christian; because I know there have been many false lies reported of the end and death of that good lady. Francis Meres (1565-1647) is often quoted as an authority on the literary history of this period in virtue of his Palladis Tamia. He was sprung of good old Lincolnshire stock, studied at Cambridge, became M.A. of both universities, and from 1602 was rector of Wing, in Rutland. He published one or two religious works, but is only remembered for the Palladis Tamia, which is not so much a book, or, as he calls it, 'a comparative discourse of our English Poets with the Greek, Latin, and Italian poets,' as a meagre catalogue raisonné, in which English authors from Chaucer's day to his own time are in a sentence or short paragraph characterised and linked with some Greek, classical Latin, or modern Latin poet to whom Meres thought they presented an analogy. Some of the remarks are sensible, some really pregnant, many jejune and pointless to a degree; occasionally there is only a mere scrap of biographical fact. Sir Philip Sidney is 'our rarest poet,' and the Arcadia 'his immortal poem.' Than Spenser's Faerie Queene he knows not what more excellent or exquisite poem may be written.' The next may be quoted in full : As the soul of Euphorbus was thought to live in Pythagoras, so the sweet witty soul of Ovid lives in mellifluous and honey-tongued Shakespeare. Witness his Venus and Adonis; his Lucrece; his sugared sonnets among his private friends, etc. As Plautus and Seneca are accounted the best for comedy and tragedy among the Latins, so Shakespeare among the English is the most excellent in both kinds of the stage. For comedy, witness his Gentlemen of Verona; his Errors; his Love's Labour's Lost; his Love's Labour's Won [All's Well that Ends Well]; his Midsummer Night's Dream; and his Merchant of Venice. For tragedy his Richard II., Richard III., Henry IV., King John, Titus Andronicus, and his Romeo and Juliet. As Epius Stolo [so in Meres: really the grammarian Aelius Stilo, who flourished about 100 B.C.] said that the muses would speak with Plautus's tongue if they would speak Latin; so I say that the muses would speak with Shakespeare's fine filed phrase if they were to speak English. But the paragraph immediately preceding says that Warner, in Albion's England, hath most admirably penned the history of his own country;' that Meres had heard the best wits of both universities style him the English Homer; and Meres adds that (this is Meres's own judgment), 'as Euripides is the most sententious among the Greek poets, so is Warner among our English poets'! The conclusion of the literary survey is: As the poet Lycophron was shot to death by a certain rival of his, so Christopher Marlow was stabbed to death by a baudy serving-man, a rival of his in his lewd love. Then follows a still more meagre list of English painters and English musicians, named as before with their classical prototypes: Nicholas Hilliard, Isaac Oliver, and John de Creetes in England, 'very famous for their painting,' correspond to Apelles, Zeuxis, and Parrhasius in Greece! Palladis Tamia, Wit's Treasury, was published in 1598, being the second volume of a series of which the first (1597) was called Politeuphuia, Wit's Commonwealth (apophthegms, &c.). other little volumes completed the series, otherwise unimportant. Tamia is a Greek word for 'treasury.' Two Gervase Markham (1568?-1637) has been reputed the first English hackney writer,' and was believed to have imported the first Arab horse into England. His industry as author, translator, and compiler was enormous, and his work was, some of it, distinctly meritorious, as well as advantageous to the kingdom. He served in the Low Country wars and in Ireland before, about 1593, he settled down to miscellaneous writing. In 1595 he published his poem (174 eight-line stanzas) on the battle of the Revenge; some of its phrases reappear in Tennyson's (more condensed) story. He versified the Song of Solomon, and wrote poems describing the feelings of St John and Mary Magdalene at the loss of their Lord; and he wrote a lengthy continuation of Sir Philip Sidney's Arcadia. He also translated from the Italian, and had a share in two dramas. But his principal work was in prosemuch of it very pedestrian prose, though elsewhere quaint and not without merits of its own. Discourse of Horsemanshippe (1593) was the first The of eight or nine separate publications (though constantly repeating themselves, according to his fashion) on horses and farriery. The Young Sportsman's Instructor is one of many books on archery, fowling, angling, cock-fighting, and hawking and hunting. Country Contentments (1611) passed through a dozen editions; its second part, The English Huswife, being also separately reissued. The English Husbandman (3 parts, 1613-15) and Cheap and Good Husbandry (1614; 13th ed. 1676) are two out of many books on farming and improving land. Then there was also a series of books on soldiering and military exercises. Even with this record, he left works which yet remain in MS. Country Contentments thus discourses ‘Of Angling, the Vertue, Use and Antiquity': Since Pleasure is a Rapture, or power in this last Age stoln into the hearts of men, and there lodged up with such careful guard and attendance, that nothing is more Supream, or ruleth with greater strength in their affections; and since all are now become the Sons of Pleasure, and every good is measured by the delight it produceth : what work unto men can be more thankful then a discourse of that pleasure which is most comely, most honest, and giveth the most liberty to Divine Meditation? and that without all question is the Art of Angling, which having ever been most hurtlesly necessary, hath been the sport or Recreation of Gods Saints, of most holy Fathers, and of many Worthy and Reverend Divines, both dead and at this time breathing. For the use thereof (in its own true and unabused nature) carrieth in it neither covetousness, deceit, nor anger, the three main spirits which ever (in some ill measure) rule in all other pastimes; neither are alone predominant without the attendance of their several hand-maids, as Theft, Blasphemy, or Bloodshed; for in Dice-play, Cards, Bowls, or any other sport, where money is the goal to which mens minds are directed, what can mans avarice there be accounted other then a familiar Robbery, each seeking by deceit to couzen and spoyl others of the blisse of meanes which God hath bestowed to support them and their families?... But in this Art of Angling there is no such evil, no such sinful violence, for the greatest thing it coveteth is for much labour a little Fish, hardly so much as will suffice Nature in a reasonable stomach: for the Angler must intice, not command his reward, and that which is worthy millions to his contentment, another may buy for a groat in the Market. His deceit worketh not upon men, but upon those Creatures whom it is lawful to beguile for our honest Recreations or needful use; and for all rage and fury it must be so great a stranger to this civil pastime, that if it come but within view or speculation thereof, it is no more to be esteemed a pleasure: For every proper good thereof in the very instant faileth, shewing unto all men that will undergo any delight therein, that it was first invented, taught, and shall for ever be maintained by Patience only. And yet I may not say, only Patience; for her other three Sisters have likewise a commanding in this exercise, for Justice directeth and appointeth out those places where men may with liberty use their sport, and neither do injury to their Neighbours, nor incur the censure of incivility. Temperance layeth down the measure of the action, and moderateth desire in such good proportion that no Excess is found in the over-flow of their affections. Lastly, Fortitude enableth the Mind to undergo the travail and exchange of Weathers with a healthful ease, and not to despair with a little expence of time, but to persevere with a constant imagination in the end to obtain pleasure and satisfaction. Now for the Antiquity thereof (for all pleasures, like Gentry, are held to be most excellent, which is most ancient) it is by some Writers said to be found out by Deucalion and Pyrrha his Wife after the general Flood. Others write, It was the invention of Saturn, after the Peace concluded betwixt him and his Brother Titan: And others, That it came from Belus the Son of Nimrod who first invented all holy and vertuous Recreations. And all these though they savour of fiction, yet they differ not from truth, for it is most certain, that both Deucalion, Saturn, and Belus are taken for figures of Noah and his family, and the invention of the Art of Angling is truly said to come from the sons of Seth, of which Noah was most principal. Thus you see it is good, as having no coherence with evil: worthy of use, in as much as it is mixt with a delightful profit and most antient, as being the Recreation of the first Patriarchs; Wherefore now I will proceed to the Art it self, and the means to attain it. . Now for your Lines, you shall understand that they are to be made of the strongest, longest, and best grown Horse-haire that can be got; not that which groweth on his Main, nor upon the upper part or setting on of his tayl, but that which groweth from the middle and inmost part of his dock, and so extendeth it self down to the ground, being the biggest and strongest hairs about the Horse neither are these hairs to be gathered from poor, lean and diseased Jades of little price or value, but from the fattest, soundest, and proudest Horse you can find, for the best Horse hath ever the best hair; neither would your hairs be gathered from Nags, Mares, or Geldings, but from ston'd Horses only, of which the black hair is the worst, the white or gray best, and other colours indifferent. Those Lines which you make for small fish, as Gudgeon, Whiting or Menew, would be composed of three hairs; those which you make for Pearch or Trout would be of five hairs, and those for the Chub or Barbel would be of seven: To those of three hairs, you shall add one thread of silk; To those of five, two threads of silk; and to those of seven, three threads of silk. You shall twist your hairs neither too hard nor too slack, but even so as they may twind and couch close one within another, and no more, without either snarling or gaping one from another; the end you shall fasten together with a fishers knot, which is your ordinary fast knots, foulded four times about, both under and above, for this will not loose in the water, but being drawn close together, will continue, when all other knots will fail; for a hair being smooth and stiff, will yield and go back, if it be not artificially drawn together. Your ordinary line would be between three and four fadom in length; yet for as much as there are diversities in the length of rods, in the depth of waters, and in the places of standing to angle in, it shall be good to have lines of divers lengths, and to take those which shall be fittest for your purpose. See the articles by Sir Clements Markham in the Dictionary of National Biography, Arber's reprint (1871) of the Revenge poem, and Grosart's edition (1871) of the poems on St John and Mary Magdalene's lamentations. Thomas Storer (1571-1604), a Londoner, studied at Christ Church, became notable as a poet, and wrote a long poem in seven-line decasyllabic stanzas on the Life and Death of Thomas Wolsey, Cardinall (1599). Malone thought that this work might, as well as Cavendish's Life, have helped to mould the conception and wording of the drama of Henry VIII. But even without that it is inevitable that the drama, which obviously follows Cavendish's words at times, should also present reflections in some measure parallel to such as these from Storer : Perchance the tenor of thy mourning verse Seek'st thou for fame? hee's best that least is knowne. Or prince's favours? that's no common grant. Serv'st thou for wealth? a courtier knows his owne. Or for degree? preferment waxeth scant. Want'st thou to live? no hell to courtiers want. O rather yet embrace thy private lot With honest fame and riches purely got. Looke how the God of Wisedom marbled stands Bestowing laurel-wreaths of dignitie In Delphos Isle, at whose unpartiall hands Hang antique scrolles of gentle herauldrie, And at his feete ensignes and trophies lie: Such was my state, whom every man did follow As living statue of the great Apollo. If once we fall, we fall Colossus like, We fail at once like pillars of the sunne; They that betweene our stride their sailes did strike, Making us sea-markes where their shippe did runne, Even they that had by us their treasure wonne, Rise as we may by moderate degrees, If once we stoope, they'll bring us on our knees. Richard Barnfield (1574–1627) studied at Oxford, and while he was yet a young man settled on his estate in Staffordshire. His works are three small volumes of poetry, The Affectionate Shepherd (1594); Cynthia, with Certain Sonnets, and the Legend of Cassandra (1595); and a collection, The Encomion of Lady Pecunia, &c. (1598). He has a large measure of the melodiousness and sonority so strangely common to the Elizabethans; but he is best known from the two pieces believed to be his, printed as by Shakespeare, in the miscellany called The Passionate Pilgrim (see page 257). These pieces both from his last volume—are the ode, 'As it fell upon a day,' and the sonnet, 'If Musique and sweet Poetrie agree;' and Professor Saintsbury still hints that 'As it fell' is much above Barnfield's usual level and really very like Shakespeare. Grosart (1876) and Arber (1882) in their editions of Barnfield denounce Collier's view that it is really two odes and is by Shakespeare. As it fell upon a day, In the merrie month of May, Sitting in a pleasant shade, Which a grove of myrtles made; Beastes did leape, and birds did sing, That, to hear her so complaine, All thy friends are lapt in lead ; Whilst as fickle Fortune smiled, Is no friend in miserie. Words are easie, like the winde; Whilst thou hast wherewith to spend ; Sonnet to R. L. If Musique and sweet Poetrie agree As they must needs (the Sister and the Brother), Thou lov'st to heare the sweete melodious sound One god is god of both, as poets faigne; One knight loves both, and both in thee remaine. It should be noted that the reference in the ode to Pandion, father of Philomela and Procne, brings in a very unmistakable echo of Spenser. For in the Shepherd's Calendar Cuddy lamented: And great Augustus long agoe is dead, And all the worthies liggen wrapt in lead Thomas Campion (c. 1575-1620), physician, musician, and poet, was born at Witham, in Essex, studied at Cambridge and abroad, left Gray's Inn and the law for medicine, and practised as M.D. in London for the rest of his life, but found time to compose much good music and to write four masques and a large number of admirable lyrics. His first publication was a book of Latin epigrams (1595; enlarged, 1619); another was Observations on the Art of Poesie (1602), in which he, a born lyrist, advocated unrhymed verse; and a third was a small treatise on counterpoint. But it is as a writer of masques, and especially of lyrics, that he is best known. Some of his best songs are in his masques; others in a series of song-books or 'Bookes of Ayres,' the first edited by Rosseter in 1601, the third about 1617. The greater number of the best were actually written to music, usually his own, and are admirably singable. He was the contemporary of both Sidney and of Ben Jonson, and, like Jonson, is a connecting-link between Elizabethans and Jacobeans. Noteworthy is it, as Mr Gosse has pointed out, that he sang before Donne had exercised his masterful and disturbing influence on English poetry. His note is all his own, but in its peculiar combination of gracefulness and unstudied art has been compared with Fletcher's, Carew's, and Herrick's. Herrick evidently knew Campion's verse, and showed this in his own working out of suggestions from Campion's 'Cherry Ripe.' Now Winter Nights Enlarge. The number of their houres; Let now the chimneys blaze And cups o'erflow with wine, Shall waite on hunny love, While youthfull Revels, Masks, and Courtly sights, This time doth well dispence With lovers' long discourse; Much speech hath some defence, Though beauty no remorse. All doe not all things well; Some measures comely tread, |