The sootè seson, that bud and bloom forth brings,

With green hath clad the hill, and eke the vale ;
The nightingale with feathers new she sings ;

The turtle to her make hath told her tale.
Summer is come, for every spray now springs;

The hart hath hung his old head on the pale ;

The buck in brake his winter coat he Aings ;

The fishes Aete, with new repaired scale ;
The adder all her slough away she Aings ;

The swift swallow pursueth the Aies smale ;
The busy bee her honey now she mings ;

Winter is worn that was the Aowers' bale.
And thus I see among these pleasant things
Each care decays, and yet my sorrow springs.

Of Sir Philip SIDNEY, it has been said, that his literary renown rests more upon his prose than his verse ; Cowper indeed refers to him as “ warbler of poetic prose;" —yet he has his eminent place

among the poets, and here is an effusion of his muse : it is styled Woning Stuffe :

Faint amorist,—what, dost thou think
To taste love's honey, and not drink
One drachm of gall ;—or to devour
A world of swete, and taste no sour?
Dost thou e'er think to enter
Th’Elysian fields, that durst not venture
In Charon's barge ? A lover's mind
Must use to sail with

every

wind.
He that loves, and fears to try,
Learns his mistress to deny.
Doth she chide thee? 'Tis to show it,
That thy coldness makes her doe it :
Is she silent—is she mute?
Silence fully grants thy suit :
Doth she pout, and leave the room?
Then she goes to bid thee come :
Is she sicke? Why, then, be sure
She invites thee to the cure :
Doth she cross thy sute with no?
Tush-she loves to hear thee woo :
Doth she call the faith of man
Into question ? Nay, forsooth, she loves thee than :
He that after ten denials,
Dares attempt no further tryals,
Hath no warrant to acquire
The dainties of his chast desire.

Sidney's Defence of Poesie has long been a favorite with scholars. Professor Marsh characterizes it as “the best secular specimen of prose yet written in England ;” and adds, that “it is destined to maintain its high place in æsthetical literature.” The Arcadia

is the other prose production by which he is most known, although it is now but seldom read. Recently was exhibited before the Archæological Society at Salisbury, a copy of this production, between the leaves of which was found wrapped up a lock of Queen Elizabeth's hair, and some complimentary lines addressed by Sidney, when very young, to the maiden queen. The hair was soft and bright, of a light-brown color, inclining to red, and on the paper enclosing it was written :-“This lock of Queen Elizabeth's own hair was presented to Sir Philip Sidney by her majesty's owne faire hands, on which he made these verses, and gave them to the queen on his bended knee, A. D. 1573.” And pinned to this was another paper on which was written, in a different hand—said to be Sidney's own—these lines :

Her inward worth all outward show transcends,
Envy her merits with regret commends ;
Like sparkling gems her virtues draw the sight,
And in her conduct she is alwaies bright.
When she imparts her thoughts, her words have force,
And sense and wisdom flow in sweet discourse.

The gentle Sidney was one of the especial favorites of the queen, whom she styled “her Jewel of the times,” for the noble virtues he illustrated by his heroic life. Every one remembers his brave words, when, fallen on the battle-field, and suffering from thirst caused by loss of blood, as he ordered the cup presented to him to be given to the wounded soldier, saying, “Thy necessity is yet greater than mine.”

All England mourned his loss, for every one revered and loved him, Hear Shakspeare's tribute to his memory :

His honour stuck upon him as the sun
In the gray vault of heaven,-and by his light
Did all the chivalry of England move
To do brave acts !

A scarcely less interesting character is that of the gallant Sir WALTER RALEIGH, who, after having brought a new world to light, wrote the history of the old in a prison. In his wonderful versatility of genius, and in all departments of his remarkable life, it may truly be said, he was equally illustrious. “ He was honored by England's greatest queen, and was sacrificed to the caprice of the meanest of her kings.” Probably the last words ever traced by his pen were the following, written in his Bible on the evening preceding his execution :

E’en such is time, that takes on trust

Our youth, our joys, our all we have,
And pays us but with earth and dust;

Who in the dark and silent grave-
When we have wandered all our ways-
Shuts

up the story of our days :
But from this earth, this grave, this dust,
My God shall raise me up, I trust!

That "bold and spirited poem,” as Campbell styles the “ Souls Errand,” is now generally admitted to be from the pen of Raleigh, since it has been traced in manuscript to the year 1593 ; and two answers to it, written in his lifetime, ascribe its authorship to Sir Walter. It was originally designated thus :—“Sir Walter Raleigh, his Lie.” Campbell tells us that its perusal always deeply affected him; and he adds,—“ It places the last and inexpressibly awful hour of existence before my view, and sounds like a sentence of vanity on the things of this world, pronounced by a dying man, whose eye glares on eternity, and whose voice is raised by strength from another world.”

Listen to a few of the strong stanzas :

Goe, soule, the bodies guest, upon a thanklesse arrant ;
Feare not to touch the best ;—the truth shall be thy warrant :

Goe, since I needs must dye,
And give the world the lye.

Say to the Court, it glowes, and shines like rotten wood;
Say to the Church, it shewes what's good, and doth no good;

If Church and Court reply,
Then give them both the lye.

Tell Zeale it wants devotion ; tell Love it is but lust;
Tell Time it is but motion ; tell Flesh it is but dust;

And wish them not reply,
For thou must give the lye.

Tell Age it daily wasteth ; tell Honour how it alters;
Tell Beauty how she blasteth; tell Fauour how it falters :

And as they shall reply,
Give every one the lye.

Tell Fortune of her blindnesse ; tell Nature of decay;
Tell Friendship of unkindnesse ; tell Justice of delay;

And if they will reply,
Then give them all the lie.

*

So when thou hast, as I commanded thee, done blabbing ;
Although to give the lie deserves no less than stabbing ;

Yet stabb at thee who will,
No stabb the soul can kill.

The author of one of the most romantic poems in the English language, EDMUND SPENSER, was born near the Tower of London, in 1553. To affirm that his Faerie Queene is replete with brilliant