are one of the numerous productions of Michael Drayton, and dedicated by him, in a poetical address of fourteen lines, "to the deere chyld of the Muses, and his ever kind Mecenas, Ma. Anthony Cooke, Esq." which he concludes in the following manner.

"Yet there mine owne, I wrong not other men,
Nor trafique further then thys happy clyme;
Nor fylch from Portes nor from Petrarch's pen,
A fault too common in thys latter tyme.
Divine Syr Phillip, I avouch thy writ,
I am no pickpurse of another's wit.
Yours devoted

M. DRAYTON."

J. H. M.

ART. XCVI. Poems by Michael Drayton, Esquyer. Collected into one volume. Newly corrected MDCXXXVII. London: Printed for John Smethwick. In an engraved title-page by Marshall, with Drayton's head at top. pp. 487. 12mo.

THESE poems consist of, 1. The Barons' Wars. 2. England's Heroical Epistles. 3. The Legend of Robert Duke of Normandie. 4. The Legend of Matilda. 5. The Legend of Pierce Gaveston. 6. The Legend of Great Cromwell. 7. Idea, containing sixty-three Sonnets. Why the historical poem of the Battle of Agincourt is left out, does not appear.

* Portes, an early French poet, had borrowed freely from the Italian. Editor.

ART. XCVII. The Legend of Humphrey Duke of Glocester. By Chr. Middleton. London. Printed for Nicholas Ling, and are to be solde at his shop at the west doore of St. Paules Church. 1600. 4to.

THIS metrical legend consisting of one hundred and eighty four stanzas, which is evidently written on the plan of the Mirror for Magistrates and is inferior to none in that favourite collection, is dedicated to Sir Jarvis Clifton, Knight; from which circumstance in the obscurity of his biography one might be tempted to conjecture that he was a Bedfordshire man. The sources of information being silent respecting him, we may fairly conclude that he was one of the numerous poets who, in the words of Roger Ascham, "lived men knew not how, and died obscure, men marked not when." But though "clouds and darkness rest upon" the history of his life, caret quia vate, that of his writings has preserved itself. He wrote A short introduction to the Art of Swimming,' translated from Sir Everard Digby, "De arte natandi."

"The Historie of Heaven: containing the poetical fictions of all the starres of the Firmament, gathered from amongst all the poets." 4to. 1598: and

"The Legend of (the good) Duke Humphrey," which is the subject of the present paper.

It is preceded by an Hexasticon by Rob. Allott, a sonnet by Michael Drayton, and two commendatory poems by John Weever, the latter of which we shall transcribe :

"To Duke Humphrey's attendants.

"Ye dayly wayters on Duke Humphreys table, And hourly walkers by D. Humphreys shrine, If that for meagre famine yee be able

Right to peruse a wel-pen'd wittye line,

Wait-walk no more, on his table- by his shrine-
But with Duke Humphrey's Legend (Gentles) dine."

After the fashion of hodiernal bookmaking, one might be expected to give an historical account of the life of Duke Humphrey, and the intrigues of the Bishop of Winchester; but our purpose will be answered when we have given a few passages, as examples of Middleton's poetical talents-" and then an end."

"O were my pen but able to set downe

Great Glocester's vertues, as indeed they were,
How would the world, bewitched with his renowne,
In imitation strive for to come near

His worthie deeds; whereof who were possest,
Themselves might justly think were haply blest.

Look as the starres, when as the world's great light
Rouses him from his melancholy bed,

Drawing the duskie curtains of the night,

Wherein the earth lay sadly mantelled,

Pluck in their pale heads as ashamed, and sorry,
He should so farre exceed themselves in glory:

So did the world, wherein this worthy was,

Admire the more than common gifts he had, Wondring how such a work should come to passe; And with abundant melancholy, sad,

Fret out their lives in envy and despair;

For with his life no life could ere compare.

And had he not been royal in his birth,

T

Yet had his matchlesse learning and his wit.er From meaner roots as fair à branch brought forth,

For King-born bloods to shrowd them under it. is For Wit and Learning are two Angels wings,

By which mean men soar up to mighty things.'s}

T

Ah! woe the while, our age neglects that fame;
Would our great men would immitate his course!
Then would their virtues add unto their name

More nobleness, and after death enforce
A new live's date, whose limits should extend
Beyond all ages--after time shall end!"

1

я

"If pity, quoth he, dwell in Princes hearts,
As it should do, or mercy have her seat
By judgment's side, to mittigate the smart
Of punishment too heavy and too great;
Let these two gentle Gods then look on mee,
That ask their help, with teares in misery.

Remove the pillars, on whose base doth stand

A mighty building, and all comes to thrall;
Take out the staffe from an old man's weak hand,
And then his aged body needs must fall:
Take steerage from a ship, or guide not it,
And on some rock the reckless bark will split.

The base whereon my aged frame hath stood,
The staff whereon I stayed my trembling arm,
The rudder that did guide me, and with good

And wholesome counsell kept my age from harm,
Is gone! what then may I suspect to have

But sudden fall to an untimely gravek nad shikwe seĮ

Where would I were in peace; for here is none,
And less I fear will be; which makes my mind
Think, happy are our fathers, that are gone
Where sure they shall a better kingdom find.
Truely said Ovid, that no man could say,
His life was blest before his latest day."

"Like to a morne, whose evening shuts in clouds, Making a dark end of a glorious day,

Fell this good Duke.

Whose memory when stones, and tombs of brass,
Deep graven epitaphs, and hollow graves,
Shall quite consume, and their memorial pass
Down to the shady groves and darksome caves,
Where dead oblivion dwells, in whose black breast
Lyes buried all that former times possest;

Thy name, like to the still-enduring sunne,

Shall outlive all, and be the world's great wonder; Aye! and when sunne, and moone, and starres have done, And their concordant spheres broken a sunder,

Thy light succeed their lights; and as now we
Admire their glory, so may they do thee!"

O. G.

ART. XCVIII, Odes: in imitation of the Seaven Penitential Psalmes. With sundry other poemes and Ditties, tending to devotion and pietie. Imprinted Anno Domini MDCI, 8vo.

THIS book appears to have been printed at Antwerp, which may be one cause of its extreme rarity. Its author was RICHARD VERSTEGAN, of whom some