sive criticism, has begun gradually to lift itself from its abasement. His personal character possesses a charm in which Wither's is deficient—that of consistency. He lived and died a disciple of the Church of England, and an unflinching defender of his Sovereign. The life of Herbert by Izaac Walton, may seem to have precluded the necessity of any future biography of that poet; but this objection is easily obviated. The Lives of Walton, although interesting in their matter, and affectionate in their tone, are often tedious and unconnected; trifling events are detailed with wearying minuteness, while others of greater importance are often condensed into a few words. They read as if they had been composed in the summer evenings, by the river-side, when the honest angler's attention Iwas divided between his rod and his memoir. is not said with any intention of depreciating the merit of Walton, by one who has passed many a pleasant hour with him beneath the "shady mulberry tree." Much that Walton left undone, Dr. Zouch supplied, in his edition of the Lives. He was, however, restricted by the text of the author, and some of the notes bear a very remote reference to the subject. I am, however, happy to record my obligations to the information they convey. This I have collected a few pleasing facts relating to Herbert from Aubrey, of whose Lives I have availed myself whenever an opportunity occurred. The value of Aubrey's anecdotes has been sometimes underrated. Anthony Wood, in a moment of spleen, spoke of him as "little better than crazed," and stigmatized his lapses of memory and readiness of belief by an epithet which has been invidiously preserved. But Aubrey was not more credulous than Wood, and far less intolerant. He lived, moreover, on terms of familiar intimacy with many of the eminent men of whom he wrote, and his portraits are marked by an individuality, discrimination, and life, which stamp their authenticity. I have also endeavoured to place Herbert's poetical pretensions in a clearer light, and the specimens introduced into his Life will, I hope, in some measure vindicate his reputation from the aspersions which have been cast upon it. His opinion of the style most fitted for religious verse may be given in the words of one of his own poems. Yet slight not these poor words; If truly said, they may take part The fineness which a Hymn or Psalm affords, Of his private virtues, that history will be the warmest eulogy which narrates his actions with the greatest truth. The simplicity of his manners, and the unaffected sincerity of his piety, cannot be too frequently brought before our eyes. The world is apt to overlook excellence so unpretending in her busy search Of objects more illustrious in her view. And he will not have toiled in vain who shall succeed in impressing on the youthful reader how infinitely precious, beyond all price, are the noiseless hours of a good man's life; and how infinitely to be preferred before all honours, are the humble flowers which blossom upon the good man's grave. Richard Crashaw was the most conspicuous ornament of the school of which Herbert was the unconscious founder. In the preparation of his memoir-I ought, perhaps, to say the fragment of a memoir,-I have been assisted by the MS. collections of Cole, of whose labours other traces will be found in the succeeding pages. These manuscripts, amounting to sixty volumes, were bequeathed to the British Museum, with a direction that they should remain unopened for twenty years after the death of the donor. The importance of this elaborate work, which occupied the author nearly half a century, can only be understood by those who have occasion to consult it. It remains to be seen whether this appeal in behalf of the neglected beauty of Crashaw's poetry will be received with favour. We live in times of transition, when old feelings are passing away; ancient institutions crumbling into dust. The age of romance has vanished, the age of utility has arisen in its place. Few amongst us have now the privilege of contemplating the face of Poetry in the still air of uninterrupted studies*. On every side we are saluted with the Io! of some new triumph of science and utility. Far be it from me to affirm that the change is not a beneficial one, or to object that the philosopher should occupy the poet's seat in our commonwealth. But it may be pardoned in one who • The reader will remember the eloquent passage in Milton, from whence this thought is taken. has drunk, albeit though a little draught, of the "milk of a better time," if he surveys this revolution with sensations of sorrow, and would gladly recall the days, gone by for ever, when poets were the objects of admiration and reverence, and the presence of the Sacred Muse was revealed in the common paths of human life, by the tranquillity and joy which were, diffused around her. The present volume conducts the reader to the threshold of the period which witnessed the production of Paradise Lost. Although a few of the poets of whom mention is made, were born subsequently to Milton, their works preceded the publication of his great poem, and the diligence of his numerous editors has shown how frequently he borrowed from their pages. With what success the proposed outline has been filled up, the reader will determine. In the ardour of composition, some inadvertencies were unnoticed, which a less excited eye will immediately detect. These will be regarded with the greatest leniency by those who are the least likely to commit them. And if any more important mistakes should be observed, the author can only join in the petition of the industrious Strype, in the preface to the Life of Bishop Aylmer, that they may be forgiven in one "who looks upon himself as a frail and fallible man, and is apt enough to have mean conceits of his own performances, and is very ready to be set right, and thankful to be instructed." TRIN. COLL. CAMB. February 17, 1834. LIVES OF SACRED POETS. INTRODUCTION. could see so clearly in The introduction of the epoch in our poetical THE pleasant study of English Poetry begins with the "ornate wryting" of Chaucer; and Sir Philip Sidney might well marvel that he that " grey and misty time." Heroic measure forms an history*. But it was in Chaucer's green old age, as Mr. T. Campbell has observed, that he put forth the full and ripe power of his genius in the Canterbury Tales. The feelings, the thoughts, and the manners of the fourteenth century, live in his verse. Who, after reading the Tales, does not sleep with the poet in Southwerk, at the Tabard," and "be erly for to rise" with the thirty pilgrims in the morning? But it should never be forgotten, in speaking of Chaucer, that he was among the first to resort to that precious fountain which his contemporary Wickliffe had opened, and that he drank of the "water springing up to everlasting life." From the death of Chaucer to the reign of Henry the Eighth, the nation made little progress in intellectual improvement; the morning-stars of our poetry went down in darkness, and the historian surveys a long and dreary period of war and wretchedness. Henry ascended See the Essay upon the Versification of Chaucer prefixed to the Edition of his works by Tyrwhit, vol. i. B |