about ascribing the piece to Sir Walter; other circumstances, however, render it probable that he was the author of it. Among these we may mention Gascoigne's acquaintance with Lord Grey de Wilton, appearing by his dedication to this and other of his works, and Ralegh's service in Ireland, as we shall find, under that nobleman. Gascoigne had led a life similar to that of Ralegh in foreign travels and military service, and subscribed the very motto tam Marti quam Mercurio to his picture prefixed to the above satire, which is so well known to have been afterward assumed by, or appropriated to, Ralegh himself. To these probabilities in favour of an acquaintance having subsisted between them, we may add the internal evidence of the poem itself, which exhibits throughout, that solid, axiomatical turn so distinguishing Ralegh's muse. In allowing the poem to be Ralegh's, however, a new difficulty presents itself,-of the Middle Temple. We have already seen, that he denied having studied the law before he was a prisoner in the Tower; and the registers of the Middle Temple of those times do not record his name as a student of the law. It may, however, have been a custom of that time, as well as of the present, to let chambers in the inns of court to persons not following the profession. Old writings and historians of those times record, that the inmates not only in private houses, but those who dwelt among the lawyers, and did not follow their profession, grew so numerous and inconvenient, that there was an order or proclamation for their removal out of the inns of court, about the latter end of Queen Elizabeth's, or the beginning of her successor's, reign.' With these facts in his hand, the reader will decide for himself on a point, which is material chiefly with reference to the supposition that Ralegh had been a templar in his youth; and it is to be regretted that this is not the only poem, of those which have been usually ascribed to him, whose authenticity, in regard to its author, is incomplete. These pieces being also without dates, we are left to guess the period of his life at which they were written from their complexion. Love, however, is so naturally the subject of the juvenile poet, that I hazard little risk of chronological error by presenting my reader with the following pieces, extracted from England's Helicon, and universally ascribed to Ralegh, before I quit the subject of his early muse. THE NYMPH'S REPLY TO THE PASSIONATE SHEPHERD. t Oldys' Life of Ralegh, p. 11. "Isaac Walton informs us, that this Reply to Marlowe's Pas sionate Shepherd was made by Sir Walter Ralegh in his younger days. Mr. Wharton observes, that this Reply is in England's Helicon subscribed IGNOTO, Ralegh's constant signature. An VOL. I. B other ་ Time drives the flocks from field to fold, And Philomel becometh dumb, The rest complain of cares to come, The flowers do fade, and wanton fields Thy gowns, thy shoes, thy beds of roses, Thy belt of straw and ivy buds, But could youth last, and love still breed, other very able critic contends, that this signature was affixed by the publisher, who meant to express by it his own ignorance of the author's name. Mr. Wharton, however, had perhaps good reasons for his opinion, though he neglected to adduce them; and it is to be observed, that in Mr. Stevens' copy of the first edition of the Helicon, the original signature was W. R.; the second subscription of Ignoto (which has been followed in the subsequent editions) being, rather awkwardly, pasted over it. (See the ingenious Mr. Ellis' Specimens of the early English IMITATION OF MARLOW. Come live with me, and be my dear, In plains and groves, on hills and dales, English poets.) To enable the reader to judge better of the merit of the Reply and Imitation, I here subjoin Marlowe's original : THE PASSIONATE SHEPHERD TO HIS LOVE. Come live with me, and be my love, And we will all the pleasures prove That vallies, groves, and hills, and fields, And we will sit upon the rocks, And I will make thee beds of roses, A gown made of the finest wool, A belt of straw and ivy buds, The shepherd swains shall dance and sing There shall you have the beauteous pine, Lest Phoebus kiss my summer's queen. The seat for your disport shall be Where silver sands and pebbles sing Eternal ditties with the spring. There shall you see the Nymphs at play, The birds with heavenly-tuned throats, Upon the bare and leafless oak, In bowers of laurel, trimly dight, Ten thousand glow-worms shall attend, And all their sparkling lights shall spend, All to adorn and beautify Your lodging with most majesty. |