His will his law; he weighed not wrong or right; Much scorned to bear, much more forgive, a spite: Patience he "the ass's load," and "coward's virtue," hight.1... Upon his belt, fastened with leather laces, Black boxes hung, sheaths of his paper swords, His word was this :-"I live, I breathe, I feed, on flame." FORTITUDE. By him Andreos paced: of middle age, His mind as far from rashness as from fears; The world's loud thunderings he, unshaken, hears : Ready for both he is as cowardly : That longer fears to live as he that fears to die. Worst was his civil war, where deadly fought He with himself till passion yields or dies; Well may he strength in death, but never courage want! But, like a mighty rock whose unmoved sides The hostile sea assaults with furious wave, And 'gainst his head the boisterous north wind rides ; Waves scattered drop in tears, winds broken whining plain : Such was this knight's undaunted constancy. No mischief weakens his resolvèd mind; None fiercer to a stubborn enemy, But to the yielding none more sweetly kind. Which dances light while Neptune wildly raves. His word was this: "I fear but heaven; nor winds, nor waves." PARTHENIA, OR CHASTITY. With her, her sister went, a warlike maid, Where thousand spotless lilies freshly blew ; Ever the same but new in newer date; And underneath was writ "Such is chaste single state." Thus hid in arms she seemed a goodly knight, But, when she list lay down her armour bright, Prisoned her locks within a golden net, Or let them waving hang with roses fair beset. . . . Upon her forehead Love his trophies fits, A thousand spoils in silver arch displaying; And in the midst himself full proudly sits, Himself in awful majesty arraying. Upon her brows lies his bent ebon bow And ready shafts: deadly those weapons show, Yet sweet that death appeared, lovely that deadly blow.... A bed of lilies flower upon her cheek, And in the midst was set a circling rose; Whose sweet aspèct would force Narcissus seek Yet all these stars, which deck this beauteous sky, By force of the inward sun both shine and move: Throned in her heart sits Love's high majesty, WILLIAM DRUMMOND. (1585-1649.) ANOTHER eminent junior Spenserian was the Scottish poet William Drummond, eldest son of the first Laird of Hawthornden, and distantly connected with the Drummonds of Stobhall, Earls of Perth. He graduated at Edinburgh University in 1605, and succeeded his father in the lairdship in 1610. His first publication was a poem written on the occasion of Prince Henry's death in 1612. This was followed in 1616 by a volume entitled Poems: Amorous, Funerall, Divine, Pastorall: in Sonnets, Songs, Sextains, Madrigals; and in 1617, when King James visited Edinburgh, by Forth Feasting, A Panegyric to the King's most Excellent Majesty. In the year 1619 Ben Jonson paid his memorable visit to Drummond at Hawthornden, and Drummond's Notes1 of their talk on that occasion afford us vivid glimpses of the literary world of that day and of Jonson's own stupendous figure, half grand, half burlesque, in the midst. Some of Jonson's critical remarks referred to Drummond himself. He told his host that his verses were all good . . . save that they smelled too much of the schools, and were not after the fancy of the time." He said Drummond ". was too good and simple," "and," adds Drummond, "he dissuaded me from poetry, for that she had beggared him when he might have been a rich lawyer, physician, or merchant." Jonson's criticism was extremely honest and clever, but scarcely just. Four years later Drummond published another volume containing his Flowers of Sion and Cypress Grove. His life had been in the meantime saddened by an unhappy loveaffair, and the songs and madrigals of his youth were replaced by strains of religious and philosophic reflection; and in a few of his finest pieces, written late in his life, there is something of Milton's own lofty sadness. Drummond's sonnets are considered his masterpieces, and they are with 1 Notes of Ben Jonson's Conversations with William Drummond of Hawthornden, January 1619. Edited by David Laing (Shakespeare Society's Publications, out doubt the best in the language between the time of Shakespeare and that of Milton. MY WANDERING THOUGHTS. How that vast Heaven intitled First1 is rolled; And people living in Eternity, Or essence pure that doth this All uphold; What motion have those fixèd sparks of gold; The wandering carbuncles which shine from high, If they be turned, and mortal things behold; How Sun posts heaven about; how Night's pale Queen, In Air's large field of light and Sea's profound : Did hold my wandering thoughts, when thy sweet eye THE MOURNING LUTE. Sound hoarse, sad lute, true witness of my woe, With soul-enchanting sounds your accents strain Nor comfort weep but when you do complain; Then sound, sad lute, and bear a mourning part; A MADRIGAL. Like the Idalian queen, And neck, on breasts ripe apples to be seen, At first glance of the morn, In Cyprus gardens gathering those fair flowers 1 The Primum Mobile or outermost Sphere. 2 Globe. I saw, but fainting saw my paramours With silence on her gazed; The flowers did smile like those upon her face; PHYLLIS. In petticoat of green, Sat milking her fair flock: 'Mongst that sweet strainèd moisture, rare delight, Her hand seemed milk in milk, it was so white! OF A BEE. O, do not kill that bee Sweet, it was no despite, But hue did him deceive: For, when thy lips did close, He deemed them a rose ; What wouldst thou further crave? He, wanting wit, and blinded with delight, FROM FLOWERS OF SION. CHILDREN OF THE WORLD. Of this fair volume which we World1 do name We clear might read the art and wisdom rare, His justice which proud rebels doth not spare, |