Gave it to me: nay, and I know What he said then, I'm sure I do.

:

Said he 'Look how your huntsman here
Hath taught a fawn to hunt his deer.'
But Sylvio soon had me beguiled:
This waxed tame, while he grew wild,
And quite regardless of my smart,
Left me his fawn, but took his heart.
Thenceforth I set myself to play
My solitary time away
With this; and very well content
Could so mine idle life have spent ;
For it was full of sport, and light
Of foot and heart, and did invite
Me to its game: it seemed to bless
Itself in me; how could I less
Than love it? Oh, I cannot be
Unkind to a beast that loveth me!
Had it lived long, I do not know
Whether it too might have done so
As Sylvio did; his gifts might be
Perhaps as false, or more, than he.
But I am sure, for aught that I
Could in so short a time espy,
Thy love was far more better than
The love of false and cruel man.

With sweetest milk and sugar first
I it at mine own fingers nursed;
And as it grew so every day,

It waxed more white and sweet than they.
It had so sweet a breath! and oft

I blushed to see its foot more soft,
And white, shall I say than my hand?
Nay, any lady's of the land!

It was a wondrous thing how fleet
'Twas on those little silver feet.
With what a pretty skipping grace
It oft would challenge me the race;
And when't had left me far away,
'Twould stay, and run again, and stay;
For it was nimbler much than hinds,
And trod as if on the four winds.

I have a garden of my own,
But so with roses overgrown,
And lilies, that you would it guess
To be a little wilderness;

And all the spring-time of the year
It only loved to be there.
Among the beds of lilies I

Have sought it oft, where it should lie;
Yet could not, till itself would rise,
Find it, although before mine eyes;
For in the flaxen lilies' shade,
It like a bank of lilies laid.
Upon the roses it would feed,
Until its lips even seemed to bleed ;
And then to me 'twould boldly trip,
And print those roses on my lip.
But all its chief delight was still
On roses thus itself to fill;
And its pure virgin limbs to fold
In whitest sheets of lilies cold.

Had it lived long, it would have been
Lilies without, roses within.

O help! O help! I see it faint
And die as calmly as a saint!

See how it weeps! The tears do come
Sad, slowly, dropping like a gum.'
So weeps the wounded balsam; so
The holy frankincense doth flow;
The brotherless Heliades

Melt in such amber tears as these.

From 'A Poem upon the Death of His Late Highness, the Lord Protector.'

He without noise still travelled to his end,

As silent suns to meet the night descend;
The stars that for him fought had only power
Left to determine now his fatal hour,
Which, since they might not hinder, yet they cast
To choose it worthy of his glories past.
No part of time but bare his mark away
Of honour-all the year was Cromwell s day!
But this of all the most auspicious found,
Twice had in open field him victor crowned,
When up the armed mountains of Dunbar

I saw him dead: a leaden slumber lies,
And mortal sleep, over those wakeful eyes;
Those gentle rays under the lids were fled,
Which through his looks that piercing sweetness shed;
That port, which so majestic was and strong,
Loose, and deprived of vigour, stretched along;
All withered, all discoloured, pale and wan,
How much another thing, no more that man!
O human glory vain! O death! O wings!
O worthless world! O transitory things!
Yet dwelt that greatness in his shape decayed,
That still, though dead, greater than death, he laid,
And in his altered face you something feign
That threatens Death he yet will live again!

The Character of Holland.

[A satire on Holland as supporting the cause of the pretender Charles II., then an exile there.]

Holland, that scarce deserves the name of land,
As but the off-scouring of the British sand,
And so much earth as was contributed
By English pilots when they heaved the lead;
Or what by the ocean's slow alluvion fell,
Of shipwrecked cockle and the muscle-shell;
This indigested vomit of the sea

Fell to the Dutch by just propriety.

Glad then, as miners who have found the ore,
They, with mad labour, fished the land to shore :
And dived as desperately for each piece
Of earth as if 't had been of ambergreese;
Collecting anxiously small loads of clay,
Less than what building swallows bear away;

Or than those pills which sordid beetles roll,
Transfusing into them their dunghill soul.
How did they rivet, with gigantic piles,
Thorough the centre their new-catched miles;
And to the stake a struggling country bound,
Where barking waves still bait the forced ground;
Building their watery Babel far more high

To reach the sea, than those to scale the sky.
Yet still his claim the injured ocean laid,
And oft at leap-frog o'er their steeples played;
As if on purpose it on land had come
To shew them what's their mare liberum.
A daily deluge over them does boil;
The earth and water play at level-coil.1
The fish ofttimes the burgher dispossessed,
And sat, not as a meat, but as a guest ;

And oft the Tritons and the sea-nymphs saw
Whole shoals of Dutch served up for cabillau ;2
Or, as they over the new level ranged,
For pickled herring, pickled heeren3 changed.
Nature, it seemed, ashamed of her mistake,
Would throw their land away at duck and drake,
Therefore necessity, that first made kings,
Something like government among them brings;
For, as with Pigmies, who best kills the crane,
Among the hungry he that treasures grain,
Among the blind the one-eyed blinkard reigns,
So rules among the drowned he that drains.
Not who first see the rising sun commands,
But who could first discern the rising lands.
Who best could know to pump an earth so leak,
Him they their Lord and Country's Father speak.
To make a bank was a great plot of state;
Invent a shovel, and be a magistrate.
Hence some small dike-grave unperceived invades
The power, and grows, as 'twere, a king of spades;
But, for less envy, some joined states endures,
Who look like a commission of the sewers :
For these Half-anders, half-wet, and half-dry,
Nor bear strict service, nor pure liberty.

5

'Tis probable religion, after this,

Came next in order; which they could not miss.
How could the Dutch but be converted, when
The Apostles were so many fishermen ?
Besides, the waters of themselves did rise,
And, as their land, so them did re-baptise.

1 A game otherwise called 'hitch-buttock.' 2 Kabeljauw is Dutch for 'cod-fish.' 3 Heeren is Dutch for men,' 'gentlemen.' • Earl of a dike. 5 A pun on Hollanders, as Whole-anders.

A Horatian Ode upon Cromwell's Return from

Ireland.

The forward youth that would appear,
Must now forsake his muses dear,

Nor in the shadows sing

His numbers languishing :

'Tis time to leave the books in dust, And oil the unused armour's rust, Removing from the wall

The corselet of the hall.

So restless Cromwell could not cease
In the inglorious arts of peace,

But through adventurous war
Urged his active star;

And, like the three-forked lightning, first
Breaking the clouds where it was nurst,

Did thorough his own side
His fiery way divide ;

(For 'tis all one to courage high,
The emulous, or enemy,

And with such to inclose

Is more than to oppose ;) Then burning through the air he went, And palaces and temples rent;

And Cæsar's head at last Did through his laurels blast. 'Tis madness to resist or blame The force of angry heaven's flame; And if we would speak true, Much to the man is due Who from his private gardens, where He lived reserved and austere, As if his highest plot

To plant the bergamot, Could by industrious valour climb To ruin the great work of Time, And cast the kingdoms old, Into another mould. Though Justice against Fate complain, And plead the ancient rights in vain, (But those do hold or break, As men are strong or weak), Nature, that hateth emptiness, Allows of penetration less,

And therefore must make room Where greater spirits come. What field of all the civil war, Where his were not the deepest scar? And Hampton shows what part He had of wiser art;

Where, twining subtile fears with hope, He wove a net of such a scope

That Charles himself might chase To Carisbrook's narrow case, That thence the royal actor borne, The tragic scaffold might adorn,

While round the armed bands, Did clap their bloody hands: He nothing common did or mean Upon that memorable scene,

But with his keener eye

The axe's edge did try;

Nor called the gods with vulgar spite
To vindicate his helpless right,

But bowed his comely head
Down, as upon a bed.

This was that memorable hour,
Which first assured the forced power;
So when they did design
The capitol's first line,

A bleeding head, where they begun,
Did fright the architects to run ;

And yet in that the state
Foresaw its happy fate.
And now the Irish are ashamed
To see themselves in one year tamed:
So much one man can do,
That does both act and know.
They can affirm his praises best,
And have, though overcome, confessed
How good he is, how just,
And fit for highest trust.

Nor yet grown stiffer with command,

But still in the republic's hand,

(How fit he is to sway,

That can so well obey!) He to the Commons' feet presents A kingdom for his first year's rents; And, what he may, forbears His fame, to make it theirs ; And has his sword and spoils ungirt, To lay them at the public's skirt : So when the falcon high

Falls heavy from the sky,
She, having killed, no more doth search,
But on the next green bough to perch ;
Where, when he first does lure,
The falconer has her sure.
What may not then our isle presume,
While victory his crest does plume?
What may not others fear,
If thus he crowns each year?
As Cæsar he ere long to Gaul,
To Italy a Hannibal,

And to all states not free,
Shall climacteric be.

The Pict no shelter now shall find
Within his party-coloured mind,

But from this valour sad,
Shrink underneath the plaid;
Happy if in the tufted brake,
The English hunter him mistake,

Nor lay his hounds in near
The Caledonian deer.

But thou, the war's and fortune's son
March indefatigably on,

And for the last effect,
Still keep the sword erect;
Beside the force it has to fright
The spirits of the shady night,

The same arts that did gain
A power, must it maintain.

Marvell's Poems were printed in folio in 1681 with a preface by his widow, and again by Cooke in 1726. Captain E. Thompson edited his Works (3 vols. 1776); but the only complete and accurate edition is that of Dr A. B. Grosart (4 vols. 1872-74). There is an admirable selection by G. A. Aitken (1892).

Algernon Sidney (1622-82), son of the Earl of Leicester, was carefully educated, accompanied his father to Denmark and France, and when his father was Lord Deputy of Ireland, commanded a troop of horse against the Irish rebels. In 1643, during the Civil War, Sidney was permitted to return to England, where he immediately joined the parliamentary forces, and, as colonel of a regiment of horse, was present at several engagements. He was likewise successively governor of Chichester, Dublin, and Dover. In 1648 he was named a member of the court for trying the king, which, however, he did not attend, though not from any disapproval of the intentions of those who composed it. The usurpation of Cromwell gave offence to Sidney, who declined to accept office either under the Protector or his son Richard; but when the Long Parliament recovered power, he readily consented to act as one of the Council of State. At the time of

the Restoration he was engaged on an embassy to Denmark and Sweden; and, apprehensive of the vengeance of the royalists, he remained abroad for seventeen years, flitting from place to place -Venice, Rome, Brussels, Augsburg. After his return to England by the king's permission in 1677, he opposed the measures of the court, a course which Hume and others held to be ungrateful to the king. A more serious charge was first presented in Dalrymple's Memoirs of Great Britain, published in 1773. The English patriots, with Lord William Russell at their head, intrigued with Barillon, the French ambassador, to prevent war between France and England, their purpose being to preclude Charles II. from having the command of the large funds which on such an occasion must have been entrusted to him, and which he might have used against the liberties of the nation; while Louis was not less anxious to prevent the English from joining the list of his enemies. The association was a strange one; but it never would have been held as a moral stain upon the patriots if Sir John Dalrymple had not discovered amongst Barillon's papers one containing a list of persons receiving bribes from the French monarch, amongst whom appears the name of Sidney, together with those of several other leading Whig members of Parliament. Lord Russell was not of the number, but that Sidney stooped to receive the money is admitted by Hallam, Macaulay, and Firth (though disputed by Ewald)-doubtless for public and not personal uses. But it is evident, as Lord Macaulay argued, that national feeling in England was at a low ebb when Charles II. was willing to become the deputy of France, and a man like Algernon Sidney would have been content to see England reduced to the condition of a French province in the wild hope that a foreign despot would assist him to establish his darling republic. It should be remembered that Sidney was as openly hostile to William of Orange as to Charles. He took a conspicuous part in the proceedings by which the Whigs endeavoured to exclude the Duke of York from the throne; and when that attempt failed, he seems to have joined in the conspiracy for an insurrection to accomplish the same object. This was exposed in consequence of the detection of an inferior plot for the assassination of the king, in which the patriots Russell, Sidney, and others were dexterously inculpated by the court. Sidney was tried for high treason before the infamous Chief-Justice Jeffreys. Although the only witness against him was an abandoned character, Lord Howard, and nothing could be produced that even ostensibly strengthened the evidence, except some manuscripts in which the lawfulness of resisting tyrants was asserted, the right of deposing kings maintained, and a preference given to a free over an arbitrary government, the jury were servile enough to obey the directions of the judge and pronounce him guilty. Sidney was

beheaded on the 7th of December 1682, 'very resolutely, and like a true rebel and Republican,' the Duke of York said.

Except some of his letters and an essay 'On Love,' the only published work of Algernon Sidney is Discourses on Government, which first appeared in 1698. The Discourses were written in reply to the Patriarcha of Sir Robert Filmer (page 559); and though tedious and diffuse, are weighty and learned, and contain admirably vigorous passages.

Liberty and Government.

Such as enter into society must, in some degree, diminish their liberty. Reason leads them to this: No one man or family is able to provide that which is requisite for their convenience or security, whilst every one has an equal right to everything, and none acknowledges a superior to determine the controversies that upon such occasions must continually arise, and will probably be so many and great that mankind cannot bear them. Therefore tho' I do not believe that Bellarmin said a commonwealth could not exercise its power; for he could not be ignorant that Rome and Athens did exercise theirs, and that all the regular kingdoms in the world are commonwealths; yet there is nothing of absurdity in saying that man cannot continue in the perpetual and entire fruition of the liberty that God hath given him. The liberty of one is thwarted by that of another; and whilst they are all equal, none will yield to any, otherwise than by a general consent. This is the ground of all just governments; for violence or fraud can create no right; and the same consent gives the form to them all, how much soever they differ from each other. Some small numbers of men, living within the precincts of one city, have as it were cast into a common stock the right which they had of governing themselves and children, and by common consent joining in one body, exercised such power over every single person as seemed beneficial to the whole; and this men call perfect democracy. Others chose rather to be governed by a select number of such as most excelled in wisdom and virtue; and this, according to the signification of the word, was called aristocracy; or when one man excelled all others, the government was put into his hands, under the name of monarchy. But the wisest, best, and far the greatest part of mankind, rejecting these simple species, did form governments mixed or composed of the three, as shall be proved hereafter, which commonly received their respective denomination from the part that prevailed, and did deserve praise or blame as they were well or ill proportioned.

It were a folly hereupon to say that the liberty for which we contend is of no use to us, since we cannot endure the solitude, barbarity, weakness, want, misery, and dangers that accompany it whilst we live alone, nor can enter into a society without resigning it; for the choice of that society, and the liberty of framing it according to our own wills, for our own good, is all we seek. This remains to us whilst we form governments, that we ourselves are judges how far 'tis good for us to recede from our natural liberty; which is of so great importance, that from thence only we can know whether we are freemen or slaves; and the difference between the best government and the worst

doth wholly depend on a right or wrong exercise of that power. If men are naturally free, such as have wisdom and understanding will always frame good governments; but if they are born under the necessity of a perpetual slavery, no wisdom can be of use to them; but all must for ever depend on the will of their lords, how cruel, mad, proud, or wicked soever they be.

The Grecians, amongst others who followed the light of reason, knew no other original title to the government of a nation than that wisdom, valour, and justice which was beneficial to the people. These qualities gave beginning to those governments which we call Heroum Regna [the Governments of the Heroes]; and the veneration paid to such as enjoyed them proceeded from a grateful sense of the good received from them; they were thought to be descended from the gods, who in virtue and beneficence surpassed other men: the same attended their descendants, till they came to abuse their power, and by their vices shewed themselves like to or worse than others. Those nations did not seek the most ancient but the most worthy, and thought such only worthy to be preferred before others who could best perform their duty.

Upon the same grounds we may conclude that no privilege is peculiarly annexed to any form of government, but that all magistrates are equally the ministers of God, who perform the work for which they are instituted; and that the people which institutes them may proportion, regulate, and terminate their power as to time, measure, and number of persons, as seems most convenient to themselves, which can be no other than their own good. For it cannot be imagined that a multitude of people should send for Numa, or any other person to whom they owed nothing, to reign over them, that he might live in glory and pleasure; or for any other reason than that it might be good for them and their posterity. This shews the work of all magistrates to be always and everywhere the same, even the doing of justice and procuring the welfare of those that create them. This we learn from common sense: Plato, Aristotle, Cicero, and the best human authors lay it as an immovable foundation, upon which they build their arguments relating to matters of that nature.

(From Chap. i., sects. 10, 16, and 20.)

See the Lives of Sidney by Meadley (1813), R. Chase Sidney (1835), Santvoord (New York, 1881), Ewald (1873), and G. M. Blackburne (1885); and Firth in the Dictionary of National Biography (1897).

George Fox, founder of the Society of Friends, or Quakers, was one of the foremost religious revolutionaries of the age. He was the son of a weaver at Fenny Drayton, in Leicestershire, and was born in 1624. Having been apprenticed to a shoemaker who traded in wool and cattle, he spent much of his youth in tending sheep, an employment which afforded ample room for solitary meditation. When about nineteen years of age, he was one day vexed by a disposition to intemperance which he observed in two professedly religious friends whom he met at a fair. I went away,' says he in his Journal, and, when I had done my business, returned home; but I did not go to bed that night, nor could I sleep; but sometimes walked up and down, and sometimes prayed,

and cried to the Lord, who said unto me : "Thou seest how young people go together into vanity, and old people into the earth; thou must forsake all, young and old, keep out of all, and be a stranger to all." This divine communication was scrupulously obeyed; the advices of his friends to marry, to take tobacco, and the like had naturally no weight with him. From 1646 he ceased attendance at church; and leaving his relations and master, he wandered about the country Bible in hand, a small competency he had supplying his slender wants. Now and for the rest of his life, Fox had many dreams and visions, and received supernatural messages from heaven. Thus, as he records in his Journal, 'One morning, as I was sitting by the fire, a great cloud came over me, and temptation beset me, and I sate still. And it was said, All things come by nature; and the Elements and Stars came over me, so that I was in a moment quite clouded with it; but, inasmuch as I sate still and said nothing, the people of the house perceived nothing. And as I sate still under it and let it alone, a living hope rose in me, and a true voice arose in me which cried: There is a living God who made all things. And immediately the cloud and temptation vanished away, and the life rose over it all, and my heart was glad, and I praised the living God.' Afterwards, he tells us, 'the Lord's power broke forth, and I had great openings and prophecies, and spoke unto the people of the things of God, which they heard with attention and silence, and went away and spread the fame thereof.' He began about the year 1647 to teach publicly in the vicinity of Dukinfield and Manchester, whence he travelled through several neighbouring counties. He had now come to hold that a learned education is unnecessary to a minister; that the existence of a separate clerical profession is unwarranted by the Bible; that the Creator of the world is not a dweller in temples made with hands; and that the Scriptures are not the rule either of conduct or judgment, but that man should follow the light of Christ within.' From about 1647 he became an itinerant preacher. He often went into churches while service was going on, and interrupted the clergymen by loudly contradicting their statements of doctrine; and by these breaches of order, and the employment of such unceremonious fashions of address as, 'Come down, thou deceiver!' he naturally gave great offence, which led sometimes to his imprisonment, and sometimes to severe treatment from the hands of the populace. He was especially hostile to services held in 'steeple-houses' and conducted by formalist 'professors' (not so much the Laudians as the Puritans, with their long abstruse sermons and extravagant doctrines of verbal inspiration). The 'inner light' was the central idea of his teaching. He inveighed against sacerdotalism and formalism, and was equally vehement against most social conventions. Priests, lawyers, and soldiers were all obnoxious to him. The Lord forbade him to put

off his hat to any, high or low, and he was required to thee and thou rich and poor equally. He denounced all public amusements, and came into collision with all sorts of people; his life is indeed little else than a record of insults, persecutions, and imprisonments. At Derby he was imprisoned in a loathsome dungeon for a year, and afterwards in a still more disgusting cell at Carlisle for half that period.

His first convert seems to have been made in 1647, and soon there were thousands of the 'Friends of Truth,' the full designation of the new communion in 1650 the popular name of 'Quakers' was given to the 'Friends' by Judge Bennet. Fox continued to preach, dispute, to wander about, and hold conferences. In 1654 he was sent by Colonel Hacker to Cromwell; and of this memorable interview he gives an account in his Journal, quoted below. Carlyle's story of Fox's being equipped in a leathern suit sewed by his own hands seems to be doubtful, though Sewel (1722) distinctly alleges a complete dress of leather. Fox himself speaks only of 'leathern breeches,' a nowise outrageous garment, though no doubt his eccentricities in costume and bearing were sufficiently exasperating to his unfriends.

Amidst much opposition, Fox still continued to travel through every corner of the kingdom, expounding his views and answering objections, both verbally and in controversial pamphlets. In the course of his peregrinations he suffered frequent imprisonment, sometimes as a disturber of the peace, and sometimes because he refused to uncover his head in the presence of magistrates. He was at least eight times imprisoned, the longest spell of jail being fourteen months at Worcester in 1673-74. In 1656, the year after he and his followers refused to take the oath of abjuration, they had increased to such an extent that there were nearly one thousand of them in jail. He visited Wales and Scotland, and (after marrying a worthy widow) went to Barbadoes, Jamaica, America (where he spent nearly two years), Holland, and Germany. In these later wanderings he was accompanied by Penn, Barclay, Keith, and other Quaker leaders. He died in London, 13th November 1690. Fox's own extravagances, especially in his earlier career, and the often grotesque proceedings of some of the recruits from the Ranters, Shakers, and other eccentric sects of the time (see on Nayler at page 623), partly explain the abhorrence with which the Quakers were regarded alike by Churchmen and Nonconformists. This gradually yielded to the essentially shrewd and sober pietism of Fox; but his view of the 'inner light' as more than co-ordinate in authority with the Bible, the Quaker rejection of the sacraments, and suspicion as to their unsoundness on the Trinity (see at Penn, Vol. II. p. 39) maintained the dislike of the orthodox. Baxter and Bunyan were as uncompromisingly hostile as the professional controversialists. Fox had not merely a heart