Ah! sweet Content, where doth thine harbour hold? Which praise the Gods with prayers manifold, Whether thou dost in heaven or earth appeare, The last couplet is sweetly pathetic. I cannot refrain from adding one more sonnet; to all, save the antiquarian in poetical literature, Barnes will be a new poet. Unto my spirit lend an angel's wing, By which it might mount to that place of rest, In spotless white an angel's robe to wear. A passing notice may be given of HENRY CONSTABLE, another poet belonging to this period, and as little known as the preceding. His Spiritual Sonnets to the Honour of his God and his Saints, were first printed in the Heliconia, from a MS. in the Harleian collection. Of Constable himself little is known. Sir John Harrington calls him "a well-learned gentleman, and noted sonnet-writer." Malone thinks he was of St. John's College, Cambridge, and took his degree of B.A. in 1579; and Dr. Birch supposes him to have been a zealous Roman Catholic, and compelled, by his religious tenets, to reside abroad during a considerable portion of the reign of Elizabeth. This opinion is countenanced by the general tone of his poems, and by several letters addressed, during his absence, to his friends in England. He was a favourite of Ben Jonson, who speaks of "Constable's ambrosiack music." I have only room for one Sonnet *. TO SAINT MARY MAGDALEN. Such as retired from sight of men like thee, When in my body she laments my sin, Which He inspired my blessed heart with all, The wing'd Affection, which men Cupid call, Constable occasionally indulges in allusions more applicable to his "vainer hours," than these specimens of his "calmer thought." The concluding couplet of this sonnet affords an instance of this ill-taste. Among the Harleian MSS., 6930, is a version of selected Psalms by Francis and Christopher Davison, W. Bagnall, Richard Gipps, and J. Bryant. The MS. "Noble Henry Constable was a great master in English tongue, nor had any gentleman of our nation a more pure, quick, or higher delivery of conceit."-Bolton's Hypercritica. Unfortunately, the sonnet instanced by the worthy critic in support of his good opinion, is almost the worst ever written by the author. + Mr. Todd mentions another MS. of this version in the Bridgewater Library, now in the possession of the Marquess of Stafford. Shades did on each side enfold me, For thy rod and staff uphold me. Donne adopted this metre, with a slight variation, in his version of the 137th Psalm. The following verse from the 130th Psalm is very beautifully rendered. The alliteration in the fourth line is the only defect. My soul base earth despising, More longs with God to be; Than rosy morning's rising Tired watchmen watch to see! I have omitted a few lines in this version of the thirteenth Psalm. Lord, how long, how long wilt Thou Wilt thou from thy sight reject me? From this maze of thoughts perplex'd, How long shall my stormful foe On my fall his greatness placing, And be graced by my disgracing? Hear, O Lord and God, my cries, Heavenly beams in them infusing. Lest my woes, too great to bear, And too infinite to number, Rock me soon, 'twixt Hope and Fear, These black clouds will overflow, Into joy shall change his mourning. Grief-dulled is a very picturesque epithet. I shall conclude my specimens with the 86th Psalm. Save my soul which Thou didst cherish Until now, now like to perish, Save Thy servant that hath none Send, O send, relieving gladness, For Thou, darter of dread thunders, Heavenly Tutor, of thy kindness Teach my dulness, guide my blindness, In knots to be loosed never, Knit my heart to Thee for ever, That I to Thy name may bear, Lord my God, thou shalt be praised, Force and fraud to ruin me. But Thy might their malice passes, Thy kind look no more deny me, And some gracious token show me, Thee to help and comfort me. The fate of Davison recalls to my memory the accomplished and unfortunate Sir Walter Raleigh, whom Spenser, in a beautiful sonnet, called the Summer's Nightingale. I think Mr. Tytler has clearly proved, in his recent Life of Raleigh, that the charges of irreligion so frequently brought against him, do not at all affect his later and maturer years. The afflictions of his manhood appear to have obliterated the vain and sceptical feelings of his youth, and to have impressed his mind with a true sense of the Divine Power. During his long imprisonment, rendered still more melancholy • Unite. |