valuable, and lodged in a place where it is useless, and liable to injury and abstraction. Ten or twelve years back, we recollect seeing, in a shattered apartment, furnished with a scantling of antiquated volumes on worm-eaten shelves, and termed, by courtesy, the Town Library of Leicester, a manuscript, which we understood to be that in question, but on which we bestowed little or no attention, from circumstances which the majestic monosyllable we would make it as awkward as it is unnecessary to detail. The curator, or curatrix, of the library was an elderly woman, and the whole affair presented as forlorn an aspect of neglect as can well be imagined. Now we really think that a manuscript which excited the curiosity of Michaelis, and of which it is desirable to ascertain the precise character and history, should not be left in its present hazardous state: we are not, of course, acquainted with the privileges or tenures of the Leicester Library, but we should suppose that, if the manuscript still exist, there would be no difficulty in procuring its transfer to the British Museum. Mr. Horne seems to rate its value very high, but on `consulting the authorities to which he refers, we cannot find that his opinion is sanctioned either by Michaelis or Marsh; neither does Mill assist his estimate, for, besides noticing the absurd singularity of the titles prefixed to the Gospels in this mutilated manuscript, he expressly characterises it as recentioris ævi notæque minus probœ exemplar.

But we are getting on enchanted ground, and we must recede in time. We have now said nearly all that appears to us necessary in recommendation of the present va luable work, when we have stated, in the author's own words, that, "In addition to the extensive circulation

which his work has obtained in the Univer

sities, and other theological seminaries in England, he has the satisfaction of knowCONG. MAG. No. 49.

ing that it has recently been adopted as a text-book in the College at Princeton, New Jersey, and also in the Protestant Episcopal Seminary at Newhaven, in North America."

The supplementary volume is a striking illustration of the honour and disinterestedness of the editor. It seems to be a recognized principle, in the present times, that every successive edition of a work may, with perfect propriety, do its best to make its predecessors worthless; but in the book before us, Mr. Horne has paid the most painful attention with the view of completing his first publication. The volume, taken singly, contains an interesting and important collection of essays on scripture geography and antiquities, forming the entire third volume of the new edition; and besides this, it has

"Two hundred and fifty closely, but clearly printed pages of critical matter. comprizing additional accounts of MSS. of the Bible, and printed editions of the New translations of the Scriptures into the moTestament, with a copious history of the dern languages of Europe," &c. &c.

The maps are respectable; the fac similes are excellent; that of the Biblia Pauperum, in particular, might pass for an original production.

We had nearly omitted to advert to the very pleasant and useful way in which the quotations from the Old Testament in the New, are arranged in this edition. They are excellently printed, at full length, and in parallel columns, and present to the eye an immediate and most satisfactory view of this important branch of the general subject.

In sum, we congratulate Mr. Horne on the completion of this greatly improved re-publication of a work indispensible to biblical students; though we fear that the moderation of its price leaves it extremely doubtful whether he sale, any thing approaching to a can expect, even with a rapid reasonable remuneration for his labour.

G

The Defence of Poesie. By Sir Philip Sidney. Folio edition, 1662.

THE DEFENCE OF POESIE, viewed as the production of an age when the human mind was but newly liberated from a millenium reign of ignorance, superstition, and slavery, and when knowledge and reason were scarcely established in their rights, or settled in their legitimate seats, will ever be deemed a work of unrivalled merit; but as the production of a young man, it will be ranked among the most extraordinary works, of which this or any other nation has to boast. Some account of its amiable and accomplished author, may not be unacceptable, before we proceed to a brief notice of the work itself.

Sir Philip Sidney was one of the splendid worthies that adorned the age, and charmed the court of Elizabeth. He was early distinguished by his eminent attainments in learning, and by an exquisite versatility of genius. He came forward before the eye of the world, while yet a boy, and, under the patronage of the Earl of Leicester, took, at once, a most conspicuous station, among a galaxy of minds as splendid and powerful as ever adorned our native land. To shine in wit and in poetry, in the same age with Shakespeare and Spenser; or to attract attention, as a statesman, while such men as Walsingham, Cecil, Burleigh, Bromley, and others of like rank, were guiding the affairs of the nation; or to acquire renown as a soldier, in a field of heroes, and a nation of knights, argues talents of the rarest kind;-but when eminence is acquired in all these, and that alike conspicuous in literature, in the field, and at court, it proves the subject, not only to

have possessed endowments unusually rich, but to have enjoyed them in a combination not less unusual. At the age of twentyone, Sir Philip Sidney was sent, by Queen Elizabeth, as ambassador to the court of Vienna, at a time when the Protestant interest, both in England and throughout Europe, was threatened with a most formidable coalition; and when the Queen was anxious, above all things, to defeat the efforts of Spain to form a combination with Vienna against England. In this very critical and important situation, Sidney acquired the confidence of Elizabeth and her cabinet, compelled the universal admiration of foreigners, and brought honour to the country he represented. He became not only the glory of England, but the admiration of foreign nations. His fame is said to have been so great, about this period, and his character so princely, that the Polanders would have chosen him for their king; but England could not resign so large a measure of its glory, nor his Queen lose so bright a jewel from her crown. At the age of thirty, he was entrusted with the government of Flushing and Ramekins, during the wars in the low countries; and he discharged the duties of that important station with great credit to himself, and satisfaction to the Dutch. He signalized himself for bravery at the taking of Axel and Dorp. But his career, though glorious almost beyond parallel, was mournfully brief. He was wounded in a battle with the Spaniards, before the town of Zutphen. The enemy were beaten, but the fall of Sir Philip Sidney may well determine the loss to have been on the side of the English. He received a musket ball

in the thigh, of which he soon after died. While lying on the field of battle, a bottle of water was brought for his relief-the only aid that, during the heat of the conflict, could be procured for him; but seeing a wounded Spaniard, one of the enemy, lying near him, in a more miserable condition than himself, the magnanimous hero said, This man's necessity is still greater than mine, and directed the water to be given to him. Thus fell the accomplished and universally admired Sir Philip Sidney, whose fame, though he died at the age of thirty-two, is second to none of his contemporaries; and had he reached the ordinary life of man, there is no saying how high he might have raised the renown of the age that bore him, or how far he might have enriched those sciences and arts, for which nature seems to have endowed him, and in which he appeared destined to excel. Sir Robert Naunton, in the Fragmenta Regalia, says of him, "They have a very quaint and factious figment of him: That Mars and Mercury fell at variance whose servant he should be. And there is an epigrammist who saith, That art and nature had spent their excellencies in his fashioning; and fearing they should not end what they begun, they bestowed him Fortune; and Nature stood musing and amazed to behold her own work. But these are the petulancies of poets.-Certain it is, he was a most noble and matchless gentleman: and it may justly be said, without hyperboles of fiction, as it was of Cato Ulicensis, that he seemed to be born to that only which he went about, versatilis ingenii, as Plutarch has it. But to speak more of him were to make him less.'

on

The death of Sidney was deeply lamented by Elizabeth. The court put on mourning, as for a royal personage, and all Europe sympathized

in his untimely departure, as if
human nature, and not England,
had sustained the loss. Religion
and Learning too wept over his
tomb, as for one of their chosen
sons-an ornament and a bulwark
to their respective interests, which
in that age they could ill afford to
lose. Spenser, whom Sidney had
cherished, is said, after his death,
to have been neglected. Certain
it is, that when Spenser was in-
troduced to the Queen, and had
presented his poems to her Ma-
jesty, she said to Cecil, "Give
him an hundred pounds;" but the
treasurer thinking that sum too
much, she said, "Give him what
is reason." But Cecil forgot Spen-
ser. The poet, however, urged
by his necessity, presented a peti-
tion to the Queen, which soon
had the desired effect: it was brief
and witty, and consisted of the
following stanza, written on a
small piece of paper:
"I was promised on a time

To have reason for my rhyme :
From that time unto this season,

I received nor rhyme nor reason."

For several years after he was rewarded and noticed, but died in the deepest want, and of a broken heart, thirteen years after his friend and patron.

But we return from this digres sion. Sir Philip Sidney wrote for the amusement of his sister, the Countess of Pembroke, The Arcadia.

This singular work, which displays some of the greatest excellencies and defects of the class of composition to which it belongs, was not intended by the author to meet the public eye, and cannot therefore fairly be subjected to criticism. It was written at intervals, and as business permitted, while he was at court, and soon after his first introduction. It has beauties not unworthy the learned and ingenious defender of poesy, and in some parts rivals in grace, simplicity, and power, the choicest passages in our great

dramatist; but however beau tiful and interesting in particular specimens, as a whole it is defective and uneven; and the poetry, with which it abounds, though sometimes exquisite and touching, is deformed by affectation and conceit, and too frequently by unmeaning jingle, and laboured antithesis-the poetical vices of the age in which the author lived and which he himself so severely reprobates in his defence of poesy. The moral tendency of the Arcadia is, moreover, questionable: of this the writer, seems to have been subsequently sensible: for, like several of our poets, and many wise and great men, who have spent their youthful days in ministering delight only to the passions and imaginations of mankind, on his death-bed, he ordered the work, which was still is manuscript, to be committed to the flames.* His last words were truly memorable, and worthy of so great a man;-" Govern your will and affections by the will and word of your Creator:-in me behold the end of this world, and all its vanities."

From this brief sketch of the author, we now turn to what we shall denominate, without fear of contradiction, his greatest work. The Defence of Poesie, though contained within less than thirty folio pages, is of itself, had he written nothing else, sufficient to entitle the author to rank with the greatest men whose names embellish the British annals. There is an originality, a comprehension, a playfulness and grace, and, above all,

å sweep

and penetration of intellect, pervading every part, which justly entitle it to be classed among the choicest literary productions of the Elizabethan age. The language is throughout, harmonious

Ipse tuam moriens (vel conjuge teste) jubebas, Arcadiam sævis iguibus esse cibum.

Epit. J. OLNI.

and elegant, often powerful and commanding. There is a mass of rich and manly thought visible, like a well-proportioned, and elegant figure, through the befitting garb which invests it. In general his diction is highly lucid, and presents a living picture of his thoughts; but sometimes, like a vein of precious metal, the matter is to be sought below the surface. His enthusiasm, in the defence of his favourite art, is delightful, and almost makes us grey-bearded critics wish ourselves young again, that we too might court the Muses. The brilliancy of his genius, and easy playfulness of his wit, appear in almost every page, and make us cease to wonder at the enthusiastic admiration which he drew from all while alive, and the general sorrow which pervaded Europe at his death.

But we must attempt to verify our praises. He introduces his work to the reader's attention in the following facetious and pleasant manner:

"When the right virtuous E. W. and I were at the Emperor's court together, we gave ourselves to learn horsmanship of John Pietro Pugliano, oue that with great commendation had the place of an esquire in his stable; and he, according to the fertilness of the Italian wit, did not only afford us the demonstration of his practice, but sought to enrich our minds with the

contemplation therein, which he thought most precious. But with none, I remem ber, mine ears were at any time more loaden than when (either angred with slow payments, or moved with our learner-like admiration) he exercised his speech in the praise of his facultie. Ho said, soldiers were the noblest estate of mankind, and

He

horsmen the noblest of souldiers. said they were the masters of war, and or naments of peace, speedy goers and strong abiders, triumphers both in camps and courts; nay, to so unbelieved a point he proceeded, as that no earthly thing bred such wonder to a prince, as to be a good horsman. Skill of government was but a pedanteria in comparison. Then would he add certain praises, by telling what a peer

less beast the hors was, the only serviceable courtier without flatterie, the beast of most beauty, faithfulness, courage, and such more, that if I had not been a piece of a logician before I came to him, I think he

would have perswaded me to have wisht myself a hors. But thus much at least with his no few words he drove into me, that self love is better than any gilding, to make that seem gorgeous, wherein ourselvs be parties. Wherein if Pugliano's strong affection and weak arguments will not satisfie you, I give you a nearer example of myself, who, I know not by what mischance, in these my not old years and idlest times, having slipt into the title of a poet, am provoked to say something unto you in defence of that my unelected vocation; which, if I bandle with more good will than good reasons, bear with me, since the scholar is to be pardoned that followeth the steps of his master. And yet, I must say, that as I have more just cause to make a pittiful defence of poor poetry, which from almost the highest estimation of learning is falu to be the langhing stock of children; so have I need to bring som more available proofs, since the former is by no men barr'd of his deserved credit, the silly latter hath even the names of philosophers, used to the defacing of it, with great danger of civil war among the Muses."

He then proceeds to display the excellency of the art he has taken upon him to defend, in a variety of particulars, such as the following: it precedes and prepares the way in the progress of nations, for regular history and philosophy, and is "the great passport by which they have entered into the gates of popular judgments:" it has been usually the first means of cultivating a rude people: its aid has been sought by the ablest historians and philosophers, and their best works borrow much of their grace, and interest, and effect, from poetry: it was held in the highest esteem by the authors of most of our knowledge-the Greeks and Romans;-this is manifest in the names, which they respectively gave the poet, Vates, and Horn -the Romans called him Prophet -the Greeks a Maker. Upon the application and elucidation of these terms, he dwells at consider able length.

He then comes to define poetry itself: it is a speaking picture, with this end, to teach and delight. Poets he arranges under three classes. "The chief, both in antiquity and excellencie, were they that did imis

tate, (represent,) the unconceiv able excellencies of God." The second are, "" they that deal with matter philosophical-either moral, astronomical, or historical." Between this second and the third kind of poets, he says, there is "the same difference as between the meaner sort of painters, who counterfeit (copy) only such faces as are set before them, and the more excellent, who having no law but wit (genius) bestow that in for the eye to see." colours upon you, which is fittest

"For these third be they, which most properly do imitate to teach and delight; and fo initate, borrow nothing of what is, hath been, or shall' bee; but range only, rained with learned discretion, into the divine consideration of what may be, and should bee. These bee they, that as the first and most noble sect, may justly be termed Vates; so these are wayted on in the excellentest languages and best understanding, with the fore described name of

poets. For these indeed do meerly make to imitate, and imitate both to delight and teach, and delight to move men to take that goodness in band, which without de light they would flye as from a stranger; and teach to make them know that goodness whereunto they are moved; which being the noblest scope to which ever any learn ing was directed, yet want there not idle tongues to bark at them."

Having thus described the different kinds of poets, and shown the excellency of the art, he closes this branch of his subject in the following beautiful and interesting

manner:

"It is not riming and versing that maketh a poet; (uo more than a long gown maketu an advocate, who, though he pleaded in armour, should bee an advocate and no images of virtues, vices, or what els, with souldier;) but it is that feigning notable that delightful teaching, which must be the right describing note to know a poet by. Although, indeed, the senate of pocts have

chosen vers as their fittest raiment; mean ing, as in matter they passed all in all, so in manner to go beyond them: not speaking table-talk fashion, or like men in a dream; words as they chanceable fall from the mouth, but poising each sillable of each word by just proportion, according to the dignities of the subject. Now, therefore, it shall not be amiss, first to weigh this latter sort of poetry by his works, and