GEORGE GASCOIGNE was born at Walthamstow, in Essex, and, according to Wood, in 1540. But the great antiquary is certainly in error, for the poet, who died in 1577, speaks of his "croocked age and hoary heares," and describes the crow's foot as having grown under his eyes. He was educated at Cambridge-" whereof he was unworthy member once"--and entered at Gray's Inn; but his father Sir John Gascoigne, "of an honourable family in Essex," having disinherited him for his thoughtless prodigality, he was compelled to seek employment abroad, and served with distinction in the army of Holland, under the command of the Prince of Orange. Here he became, according to old Puttenham, "as painful a soldier in the affairs of his Prince and Country as he was a witty poet in his writing." The most valuable of his poems details his adventures in the Dutch war; one of these relates to a lady at the Hague, who, while the town was in possession of the enemy, sent him a letter which was intercepted in the camp. Reports were, in consequence, circulated against the loyalty of the soldier-poet, who, at once, laid the affair before the Prince; his jealous and envious accusers were discomfited, and Gascoigne received a passport which enabled him to visit his female friend. He was afterwards made prisoner by the Spaniards, endured a tedious imprisonment, and, on his release, returned to England, resided chiefly at Walthamstow, and resumed the study of the Law. In 1575, he accompanied Queen Elizabeth in one of her progresses to Kenilworth, and recited before her a masque he had composed for her amusement. He died at Stamford, where his declining health had induced his friends to convey him; one of them speaks of himself as being "an eye-witness of his godly and charitable end." "Falling into a lingering and wasting disease, he was taken to Stamford, and there being almost worn to a skeleton, but in a religious, calm, and happy state of mind, he expired without a struggle, recommending his wife and only child to the Queen's bounty." Whatever might have been the follies of his earlier years, he lived to establish a good reputation as a man, and to obtain high and enduring fame as a poet.

Gascoigne is the author of the first prose comedy in our language, the "Supposes," which he partly translated from Ariosto; and his Jocasta, also in part a translation, from Euripides, is the second of our tragedies in blank verse. According to Nash, he "first beat the path to that perfection which our best poets have conspired to since his departure;" by another ancient critic he is classed among "the lesser poets whose works may be endured;" and by another, he is praised for "a goode meetre, and a plentiful vayne." More modern critics have as widely differed in estimating his merits. Mr. Headly states that "though he exhibits few marks of strength, he is not destitute of delicacy," and Mr. Ellis, although he lauds his comedy for "uncommon ease and elegance of dialogue," condemns his "smaller poems" as certainly too diffuse and full of conceit; while Mr. Warton is of opinion that he "has much exceeded all the poets of his age in smoothness and harmony of versification."

His longest production is "the Fruites of Warre"-"written by peecemeal at sundrye tymes, as the Aucthour had vacaunt leysures from seruice." "The verse is roughe," he continues in his dedication to the Lord Greye of Wylton, "and a good reason, sithence it treateth of roughe matters." In this, and in his other extended poem, "the Steele Glas," the reader will find many noble thoughts, conveyed in an easy and graceful style; but they are, we think, by no means so rich in fancy as some of his minor compositions. The leading characteristic of his writing is sound good sense; he had studied human nature, had seen the evils of a sinful course in youth, had learned how much of wisdom there is in virtue, and gave to the world his observations and the results of his experience in the form of verse.

His poems were first collected and published in 1587, as "The Pleasauntest Workes of George Gascoigne, Esquyre, newlye compyled into one volume, that is to saye: His Flowers, Hearbes, Weedes, the Fruites of Warre, the Comedie called Supposes, the Trajedie of Jocasta, the Steele-Glasse, the Complaint of Phylomene, the Story of Ferdinando Jeronimi, and the Pleasure of Kenelworth Castle." The volume bears the imprint of "Abel Jeffes, dwelling in the Fore Street, without Creepplegate, neere unto Grub-streete." During his life, however, in 1572, he had sent forth a work in Quarto,— "A Hundreth Sundrie Flowres, bound up in one small Posie; gathered partly in fyne outlandish gardens; and partly out of our owne fruitefull orchardes in Englande."

Ar last the keele which might endure no more,
Gan rende in twayne and suckt the water in :
Then might you see pale lookes and wofull cheare,
Then might you heare loude cries and deadly dinne :
Well noble minds in perils best appeare,
And boldest harts in bale will never blinne.

Some other cried to cleare the shipboate free,
To save the chiefe and leave the rest in dust.
Which word once spoke (a wondrous thing to see)
All hast post hast, was made to have it done:
And up it comes in hast much more than speede.

H

There did I see a wofull worke begonne,

Which now (even now) doth make my hart to bleede.
Some made such hast that in the boate they wonne,
Before it was above the hatches brought.

Straunge tale to tell, what hast some men shall make
To find their death before the same be sought.

Some twixt the boate and shippe their bane do take,
Both drownd and slayne with braynes for hast crusht out.

And eare the boate farre from our sight was gon,

The wave so wrought, that they (which thought to flee And so to scape) with waves were overronne.

Lo how he strives in vain that strives with God!

For there we lost the flowre of the band,
And of our crew full twentie soules and odde,
The Sea sucks up, whils we on hatches stand
In smarting feare to feele that selfe same rodde.

THE ARRAIGNMENT OF A LOVER.

AT Beautyes barre as I dyd stande,
When false suspect accused mee,

George (quod the Judge) holde up thy hande,

Thou art arraignde of Flatterye :

Tell therefore howe thou wylte bee tryde:
Whose judgement here wylt thou abyde?

My Lorde (quod I) this Lady here,
Whome I esteeme above the rest,
Doth knowe my guilte if any were:
Wherefore hir doome shall please me best
Let hir bee Judge and Jurour boathe,
To trye mee guiltlesse by myne oathe.

Quod Beautie, no, it fitteth not
A Prince hir selfe to judge the cause:
Wyll is our Justice well you wot,
Appointed to discusse our Lawes :
If you wyll guiltlesse seeme to goe,
God and your countrey quitte you so.

Then Crafte the cryer cal'd a quest,
Of whome was Falshoode formost feere,
A pack of pickethankes were the rest,
Which came false witnesse for to beare,
The Jurye suche, the Judge unjust,
Sentence was sayde I should be trust.

Jelous the Jayler bound mee fast,
To heare the verdite of the byll,
George (quod the Judge) nowe thou art cast,
Thou must goe hence to heavie hill,
And there be hangde all bye the head,
God rest thy soule when thou art dead.

Downe fell I then upon my knee,
All flatte before Dame Beauties face,
And cryed, good Ladye pardon mee,
Which here appeale unto your grace,
You knowe if I have beene untrue,
It was in too much praysing you.

And though this Judge doe make suche haste, To shead with shame my guiltlesse blood:

Yet let your pittie first bee plaste,

To save the man that meant you good,
So shall you shewe your selfe a Queene,
And I maye bee your servaunt seene.

(Quod Beautie) well: bicause I guesse,
What thou dost meane hencefoorth to bee,
Although thy faultes deserve no lesse,
Than Justice here hath judged thee,
Wylt thou be bounde to stynte all strife,
And be true prisoner all thy lyfe?

Yea Madame (quod I) that I shall,
Loe Fayth and Trueth my suerties:
Why then (quod shee) come when I call,
I aske no better warrantise.

Thus am I Beauties bounden thrall,

At hir commaunde when shee doth call.

SIR WALTER RALEIGH was born at Hayes-Farm, near East Budeleigh, Devon, in 1552. In 1568, he entered at Oriel College, Oxford, and afterwards at the Middle Temple. But the times were such as to call for action rather than thought; the pursuits of Alma Mater, and the sober study of the law, were soon deserted; the genius of Raleigh eagerly sought and found a more accessible road to fame. He fought during six years, as a volunteer, under the Protestant banner, in France; subsequently served a campaign in the Netherlands; acquired reputation for skill and courage in Ireland, during the rebellion of 1580; and, on his return to England, obtained, "through a piece of gallantry," the favour of Queen Elizabeth, by whom he was knighted, and raised to high honours, "having gotten the Queen's ear in a trice," and alarmed the jealousy of the favourite, Leicester. Yet, "far from sucking in the luxuries and vanities of a court, while he enjoyed the smile of it, both his thoughts and his purse were employed in preparations to leave it for a very different course of life."

The various chances and changes of his eventful career-his attempt to colonize Virginia, his participation in the destruction of the "invincible" Armada, his expedition against Panama, his capture of San Joseph, his parliamentary conduct as knight of the shire for his native county, his co-operation in the taking of Cadiz, his share in "the Island Voyage," his serious or absurd contests with the Earl of Essex, his appointments to profitable places by the Queen, his disgrace under the reign of her successor, his trial and condemnation upon an ill-sustained charge of high treason, his imprisonment of fifteen wearisome years, his subsequent disastrous voyage to Guiana, his return, and his unjust execution, under his old and almost forgotten sentence-are matters at which we can but, in passing, glance. The mention of them supplies an outline of the full life of one who was distinguished as "the noble and valorous knight," a man of astonishing energy, who combined almost every variety of talent, whose acquirements in science were marvellous, whose heroic courage and indomitable perseverance are almost without parallel, whose enterprize was unchecked by difficulties and unchilled by failure, and who, while excelling in feats of arms and in strength of counsel, surpassed also in those arts which are the more exclusive produce of retirement and peace,-history, oratory, philosophy, politics, and poetry. His death took place on the 29th October, 1618.

Raleigh is described as always making a very elegant appearance, both in splendor of attire and politeness of address; as "having a good presence, a handsome and wellcompacted person, a strong natural wit and a better judgment, with a bold and plausible tongue, whereby he could set out his parts to the best advantage."

The poetical remains of Sir Walter Raleigh are few, but they suffice to show how greatly he could have excelled in this art of peace, had circumstances enabled him, and inclination prompted him, to devote to it the energies of his capacious mind. In his minor writings, as in his stupendous plans, he was original, bold, and adventurous; and although it is difficult, according to old Puttenham, "to find out and make public his doings"-many poems being attributed to him upon unsatisfactory evidencethere is proof enough in those which are undoubtedly his, to sustain a very high reputation. Spenser, his personal friend, speaking of his poetry, styles him "the summer nightingale," who was "Himself as skilful in that art as any."

Among other specimens, we have inserted one to which has been given the several titles of "the Lye," "the Soul's Errand," and the Soul's Farewell." It is doubtful whether Raleigh was really the writer of it; it is, at least, certain that the tradition is erroneous which describes it as having been " 'penned down" by him on the night before his execution, as it was printed in Davison's "Poetical Rhapsodie" ten years previous to that event. Mr. Ellis assigns it to Joshua Sylvester, "until a more authorised claimant shall appear;" but it is so vastly superior to the known compositions of this author, that we are inclined to withhold from him the merit of having produced it, and prefer the authority of the collector of "Ancient Reliques," who assigns it to Raleigh, and surmises that it might have been written in 1603, after his condemnation, when he was in hourly anticipation of death. The poem is so transcendently vigorous, that we think few of his contemporaries could have produced it; the style, moreover, greatly resembles that of Raleigh, - a blending of mature reflection, forcible thought, and striking metaphor.