But only Alexander all did wield: In tragicke some, some in heroicall; But thou alone art matchlesse in them all. Non equidem invideo, miror magis: I only protract this article for the purpose of remarking, that in Harl. MS. 6930, occurs a version of several selected psalms, by Fra. Davison, Jos. Bryan, Rich. Gipps, and Chr. Davison; with Poems prefixed by the former two, and with a metrical in troduction by W. Bagnall, "to so many of the psalms as are of Mr. Fra. Davison's composure."* T. P. ART. XXIX. England's Parnassus: or the choysest flowers of our moderne poets, with their poeticall comparisons. Descriptions of Bewties, Personages, Castles, Pallaces, Mountaines, Groves, Seas, Springs, Rivers, &c. Whereunto are annexed other various discourses, both pleasant and profitable. Imprinted at London for N. L. C. B. and T. H.† 1600. With the device of a Ling entangled in the branches of a honeysuckle. pp. 510. besides dedication, &c. small 8vo. or duod. A CHARACTER of this collection has been given by Oldys in the Preface to Hayward's British Muse, and copied into the new edition of Theatrum Poetarum Anglicanorum (1800). I shall not therefore repeat it here. It may however be added, that * In the Bridgewater Library is another MS. of this Version.See Todd's Spenser, I. LXXI. Viz. Ling, Burby, and Haies. Herb. III. 1342, who says that there were three or four editions of the book about this time. Sed qu? notwithstanding the defects with which Oldys rather too severely taxes it, Time has given it a value, which every lover of old English poetry will duly estimate.* Seventy years ago the greater part of the authors, from whom extracts, too short indeed, are - here given, were forgotten; the curiosity and diligence of the present day has revived all their memories; and perhaps recovered and ascertained every poem, from whence the passages are borrowed. The laborious searches of the late Mr. Ritson in this way will establish his fame, in spite of his dullness, and his unhappy disposition. And the still superior knowledge of some living friends, (whom I know too well, to offend them by adding their names,) blended as it is with taste and fancy, has lately thrown a grace and interest on this branch of bibliography, which is daily increasing the public curiosity regarding a part of our national antiquities, the most illustrative of the progress of human manners and civil society. The state of our knowledge on these subjects is materially altered since the time of Oldys, who, though his bibliographical erudition was very eminent, after having observed that R. Allot, the editor of this Collection, "cites no more than the names of his authors to their verses," could add, that "most of them were now so obsolete, that not knowing what they wrote, we' can have no recourse to their works, if still extant." He then, a little too severely, says, that "what renders this and the other Collection (The Belvedere or Garden of the Muses, 1600, 8vo.) very defective, and prevents them from affording the redundant * Mr. Parke is now (1815) reprinting this Collection entire, in Heliconia. light, of which they were capable, is the little merit of the obsolete poets, from which they are in a great measure extracted; which want of merit, as Sir Philip Sydney justly observes, "is the cause of their wanting esteem." But there is scarcely a single volume of old poetry, which ever obtained even a short-lived reputation, from whence some good may not be extracted. Soms traits of manners, some memorials of temporary sentiment, some forms of expression, some records of departed merit, which it is a pity should entirely perish, are sure to be preserved in them. And in such a Collection as the present it is highly instructive to observe, constantly intermixed, and floating with the same apparent credit by each other's side, those who have for ages been left behind on shoals and in creeks silent and forgotten, and those who still are borne forward by the increasing impulse of the gale of Fame! The perpetual comparison will enable us to appreciate, in the most certain and striking manner, the qualities by which a lasting reputation is ensured. This Collection is dedicated, in the following Sonnet, "To the Right Worshipful Sir Thomas Mounson, Kt. English Mæcenas, Bounty's elder brother, The spreading wing, whereby my fortune flies; I consecrate these sacred Poesies; Which, whilst they live, as they must live for ever, I pick'd these flowers of learning from their stem, In view of whose great glories thou art plac'd, That whilst their wisdoms in these writings flourish, Thy fame may live, whose wealth doth wisdom nourish.* Your Worships humbly at Command, R. A." "To the Reader. I hang no ivy out to sell my wine; I set my picture out to each man's view, And conquer envy by their good deserts. If any cobler carp above his shoe, For ignorance still maketh much ado, And wisdom loves that, which offends detraction. Go fearless forth, my book; hate cannot harm thee; R. A." The first set of Extracts is under the head of" Angels," and begins with twenty-one lines from Spenser, followed by passages from Drayton, Fairfax, Warner, and Shakspeare. The next is under "Am* I have modernized the spelling. bition," beginning with Daniel, and succeeded by Markham, Chapman, Spenser, Drayton, Higgins, Lodge, Warner, Hudson, Gascoigne, Dekkar, and Fairfax. The third is " Affection," from Shakspeare, Marlow, and Spenser. The fourth "Affliction," from Davies; the fifth "Audacity," from Warner, Shakspeare, and Weever; and the sixth " Art,” from Drayton, Marston, Chapman, Jonson, Lodge, Storer, Harington, Fitz-Geffrey and Spenser; the seventh "Avarice," from Spenser, Harington, [Sylvester, Warner, Shakspeare, and Dekkar. Here end the titles under the letter A. Under the "Descriptions of Beauty and Personage" is the following by Thomas Watson, p. 393. Her yellow locks exceed the beaten gold; Her neck more white than aged swans that moan; Her fingers long, fit for Apollo's lute; Her slipper such as Momus dare not mock; Her virtues are so great, as make me mute. What other parts she hath, I need not say, Whose fairest face alone is my decay. Tho. Watson. |