three; But, in spite of Custance, which hath him wea- And while some piece of his soul is yet him with- by the notices attached to the names of suc-| Yet, saving for a woman's extreme cruelty, ceeding writers, much is told in a few tersely- He might have lived yet a month, or two, or written paragraphs. The songs from "Ralph Roister Doister," as well as all the other songs drawn from plays usually printed in obsolete forms of orthography, are here judiciously printed as Shakspeare is invariably printed, with the modern spelling. We should also say that, beginning with "Ralph Roister Doister," the order of time is followed in arranging the collection, dramatists and dramas taking precedence according to their seniority. in, Some part of his funeral let us here begin. selves. But, in faith, Custance, if ever ye come in hell, Good night, Roger old knave; Farewell, Roger Good night, Roger old knave; knave knap. [A peal of bells rung by the Parish Clerk Mr. Bell knows the ring of true poetic gold, and has been able to heap it up lavishly, in this little book, for the use of all comers. The naiveté of our early writers, and the quaintness of thought as well of utterance by which they were characterized, are nowhere defined with so much sharpness as in their songs. Dignity and grasp of thought they could display in other forms of composition, but for the subtler charms of fancy, and all the strength and grace of poetical expression common to them in their best days, no playground suited better than the lyric. From the oldest of the dramas cited, we take a very short example of natural song-writing. It is hardly of old English literature, and some still familpass by many a song dear to the lovers nccessary to premise that the word minion iar among the people, as for example that (mignon) bore in Nicholas Udall's day its true sense as a word of delicate endearment, and early drinking song from "Gammer Gurton's had not then been polluted for all time by the Needle," with its burden of "Back and side misuse of one of the most despicable of the go bare; " we pass also John Lyly the EuphuKings of France. ist, whose songs resemble compositions of a later time; and we stop for a poem from the Polyhymnia of George Peele, whose name is associated in our memory with that of Marlowe. THE MINION WIFE. Who so to marry a minion wife If she will fare well, if she will go gay, About what affairs soever he go, He must show her all his mind, To the appreciation of the women of England we leave Nicholas Udall. But we shall first take from "Ralph Roister Doister" another example of true quaintness, a cleverer song than the last, telling another sort of tale. THE PSALMODIE FOR THE REJECTED LOVER. Maister Roister Doister will straight go home and die, Our Lord Jesus Christ his soul have mercy upon: Thus you see to-day a man, to-morrow John. We Duty, faith, love, are roots, and ever green. His helmet now shall make a hive for bees, And lovers' songs be turned to holy psalms; But though from court to cottage he depart, And when he saddest sits in homely cell, He'll teach his swains this carol for a song: "Blessed be the hearts that wish my Sovereign well, Cursed be the souls that think her any wrong." Goddess, allow this aged man his right, To be your beadsman now that was your knight. An associate of Peele and Marlowe, Thomas Nash, shall furnish next a dying fall which may be called good as music, though not of the best as poetry. THE DECAY OF SUMMER. music of the lark or the nightingale, they hold us in the spell of some fine instrument whose rich notes are delivered with the skill of a master. It is the difference between impulse and premeditation, and, in a general sense, between nature and art, although we are compelled to acknowledge in Shakspeare the presence of the highest art also. Ben Jonson is generally supposed to be distinguished chiefly, if not exclusively, by his learning and his humor. But his songs, his masques, and pastoral scenes are strewn with beauties of Fair summer droops, droop men and beasts there- another order, and exhibit, over and above his fore, So fair a summer look for never more: Go not yet away, bright soul of the sad Here we have a great command of resources, and a visible air of preparation. The lines are thoughtful, and occasionally rugged, and must be read, even in the singing, with a certain degree of emphasis and deliberation. They do not spring at once to the heart and the fancy. With out a particle of pedantry, of which Jonson was unjustly accused by his detractors, the spirit of the Greek anthology is in them, and is felt either in the allusions, the phrase, the subject, or the diction. Yet, in a different way, they are as charming as Shakspeare's, and worthy to stand beside them. If they do not recall the ravishing | more special qualitics, singular elegance of thought and a luxuriant fancy. The true beauty of Ben Jonson's songs is evidenced by their unfailing popularity.Thousands who have never read his "Silent Woman" know these verses that are taken from that play. THE GRACE OF SIMPLICITY. Give me a look, give me a face, They strike mine eyes, but not my heart. Every reasonably educated man in England must have read Ben Jonson's "Queen and huntress chaste and fair," while half of the number knows by heart his song beginning "Drink to me only with thine eyes." Beaumont and Fletcher yield a famous store to Mr. Bell's collection. We take this from Fletcher: A "SAD SONG." Weep no more, nor sigh, nor groan, And this, though it is well known as set to the music of a madrigal. It comes from the play of " The Nice Valor, or the Passionate Madman." MELANCHOLY. Hence, all you vain delights, There's nought in this life sweet, But only melancholy, Oh, sweetest melancholy! A look that's fastened to the ground, All these my black-book death enroll, And finally this, in a quite different vein, from Sir William Davenant, must satisfy our desire for making extracts. JEALOUSY. This cursed jealousy, what is't? 'Tis love that has lost itself in a mist; But troubled with cold and trembling fits. Nothing's so dainty sweet as lovely melan-Tis yet a more unnatural evil : choly. 'Tis the god of love, 'tis the god of love, possessed with a devil. 'Tis rich corrupted wine of love, Which sharpest vinegar does prove; From all the sweet flowers which might honey make, It does a deadly poison bring: Strange serpent which itself doth sting! It never can sleep, and dreams still awake; Our readers have only to go to Mr. Bell's volume for a hundred more poems as good as these, and as illustrative of the old times of English poetry. There they will find not only the poems, but all information necessary to the understanding of them. Such a half-crown's worth of well edited verse is not to be overlooked by any wise buyer of books: for, in addition to the strong claim to attention that it has in common with every volume of the admirable series to which it belongs, it has also this peculiar character, that even the standard poetry contained in it cannot be purchased in another form. We except; of course, its original form, as part of a costly collection of the works of English dramatists. From Tait's Magazine. HAPPY HORATIO. suit of mankind, from the cradle to the grave, that of happiness is undoubtedly the most important and engrossing. Man, whether we reIF a prize of one hundred guineas were gard him in the savage or in the civilized publicly offered for the best essay on happi- state; whether in the polished city or in the ness, it is fair to presume that the manuscripts fastnesses of primeval forests; whether desent in to the adjudicators would show a great pressed by care or basking in the sunshine of variety in the mode of treatment; and enough prosperity,--is uniformly occupied in the puris known of human nature in general, and suit of happiness. Ask the monarch, with his essay-writing human nature in particular, to jewelled crown; the mariner, on the stormy make it probable that some of the aspirants deep; the mother, watching by the cradle of would adopt a style not unlike the follow- her little one; the busy trader, immersed in ing:buying and selling:-ask them, we say, what "Of all the objects which engage the pur- it is that they are seeking, and will they not answer-Happiness? Indeed, so profoundly implanted in our nature"-etc., etc. Writers of a less didactic turn, given to "meditations among the tombs," "among the flower-gardens," and that sort of thing, would probably fling themselves in medias res after the following fashion : Thou hast been As one in suffering all that suffers nothing; man That is not passion's slave, and I will wear him That they are not a pipe for fortune's finger "Happiness!- What art thou? A real To sound what stop she please. Give me that entity, or a flecting phantasy? A substance to be grasped, or a shadow to be pursued forever in vain? Art thou, O Happiness, a dazzling jewel to be won and worn, or a fragile insect thing, whose colors vanish in the hand that seizes thee? From each recess and corner of this vast universe go up the groans of the wretched; sickness, sorrow, and death are all around us, and where doth the mourner find peace to his soul, save when the yew tree waveth over his last resting-place, and etc., etc. ter." The fact is that, while depicting, with a fow touches of the pencil, a very peculiar and rare type of character, Thatte prynce of goode fellowes, -66 "I be Besides these, there would of course be es- has drawn his own portrait, and left it impersayists well up in Bentham, in supply and de-ishably glorious for all men to look at and mand, in the" principle of concert," in sani- love. Let the frequency with which he has tary reform, in educational discipline, with the sketched sound, cheerful, victorious natures, whole gang of bold crotcheteers; and some proof against "fortune's buffets and rewards," few who would treat happiness as living through speak for his delight in them, and his own posthe entire range of one's capacities and sensi- session of their golden secret. Take, dear bilities;" a definition which will be remem-reader, as a companion picture to the above, to bered as occurring in the introductory chap-be hung side by side with it in the inmost ter of Nathaniel Hawthorne's "Scarlet Let-chamber of your soul, this "presentment" of an unfortunate man, superior to his fate, and Let all these pass. Non ragioniam di lor. taking the "burden and mystery of his life" We propose another mode of treatment. If with sunny looks and genial words. history is "philosophy teaching by example," seech you," says young Orlando to the pleadthe drama is "poetry teaching by example," ing Rosalind "I beseech you, punish me not and to the drama let us resort for a portrait with your hard thoughts, wherein I confess mo of a happy man, steadfastly regarding which much guilty to deny so fair and excellent layour fair we may come at last to be "changed into the dies anything. But let and eyes gensame image." We shall perhaps find a true tle wishes go with me to my trial; wherein, if Ikon Basiliké, a kingly portraiture of a king I be foiled, there is but one shamed that was never gracious; if killed, but one dead that is The play of Hamlet with the part of Ham- willing to be so. I shall do my friends no let omitted has been thought a very deplora- wrong, for there is none to lament me; the ble conception and, no doubt, is so, dramatic-world no injury, for in it I have nothing; only ally speaking; but the prince in black velvet in the world I fill up a place, which may be and bugles has always seemed to us to be better supplied when I have made it empty!" rather a flabby-minded personage, and as Ah, thou brave, joyous soul! Leech's coxcomb says of Shakspeare-"quite wrestling, for all the gods love, and the prize "to the an overrated man, sir,-quite " But if the is thine; and if thou must even description of Horatio for which we are in-greenwood go," not indeed "alone," but a debted to Hamlet does his discernment credit, "banished man," go gaily, carrying the sunas it does, it is also a picture of such extraor- shine of that true heart of thine into the forest dinary power and beauty, that one is tempted to say that irresolute maunderer could be spared from the play, if he would only leave his friend "alive and kicking," just as he is described. Who would not give all his worldly substance to be able to lay his hand upon his heart and say that a portrait "in this style" was a true portrait of himself?-Who? Hamlet thus addresses Horatio : among men. On to the gloom, for thither shall the generous powers who favor the bold wrestler with his fate send thy love to meet thee, and to crown thy life with gladness! But to return to Horatio- - happy Horatio. That is, if we have left him, for Orlando may perchance be the same person under an alias. In Hamlet's description what a finely drawn picture we have of a man of cheerful, sanguine temperament, who is self-contained and self-controlling! What suggetions Aye she loot the tears down fa', arise in our minds, as we read of open-hearted, outspoken gaiety of character, with the beautiful and rare addition of equanimity, that dream of closet moralists and cultivators of the He hath a pleasant voice, an open manner, a nil admirari-that sweet bosom-treasure of the habit of cordial greeting, and hearty handfew whose "blood and judgment" happen-if shaking, without being rough over it, like anything happens to be "well-commingled." some vulgar fellows who can never There are several kinds of people in this odd world of ours who take, or seem to take, "fortune's buffets and rewards with equal thanks." There is, for example, your stupid apathetic fellow, whom nothing ruffles, to whom nothing comes amiss-who seems to live in a sort of natural besottedness, if such a strange phrase may be allowed. There is your reckless pleasure-lover, who, when he can, goes the whole hog" for enjoyment, without much nicety about modes and results; and when he cannot, folds his arms and sulks, with the forced indifference of a gambler whose losses come thick and fast upon him. There is your precious "bundle of habits," of the "Miss Millpond" school, 66 Who seemed the cream of equanimity, Teach themselves that honorable stop who are most distinctly nuisances, pure and The man who hails you "Tom!" or "Jack¡ Is such a friend that one had need To pardon, or to bear it! Happy Horatio is not prone to extravagances of any kind. For children he hath cherries, for young maidens chaste but loving kisses, for old men counsel and aid in their little dilemmas, for old ladies cough-drops and consola Till skimmed, and then there was some milk tion. He is not proud in prosperity, neither and water. Lastly, O beautiful, and rare as beautiful! in adversity doth he look down his nose. He is the very man-to borrow an expression of Leigh Hunt, speaking of "Tom Campbell"— the very man you would walk through ankledeep snow, on a December night, to spend an hour with! we have the man who falls into the ranks of life without grumbling or ado of any kind; In daily life, it is not often,-far from it,lives and loves cheerfully, "wisely," and that we encounter the man of Horatio stamp. "well;" cultivates pleasures where they do When we do so, however, there is no mistake not bloom naturally; laughs with the happy about it, he is at one recognized as a happy and weeps with the mourners; has an eye for fellow. Amid all the cross-currents and conthe orange blossom and the funeral plume; is flicting influences of modern civilization, and at home with prattling childhood and "narra- the ups and downs resulting from complicated tive old age" carries a sunshine about with social relations, we see at once that he "stands him that sends the Smelfungus and Mundun- four-square," whatever winds may blow. We gus class of human owls hooting and blinking instantly feel the charm of that repose, and into holes and corners; in one word, a perfect that spontaneousness which ever belong to Horatio. We see the man, as we write, in our harmoniously developed character, precisely mind's eye. He hath not six-feet-six in or out as we feel in our intercourse with women and of his boots, but is of moderate stature and children. Your unhappy man has neither recomely appearance; he is neither a sloven nor pose nor freedom of action. Gilfillan and an Adonis, neither a Mawworm nor a "fast Lady Hester Stanhope between them have man." He hath gently curling locks, of an perfectly hit off the character of that type of excellent chestnut color, and his eyes are of a uncomfortableness, that most un-Horatian bewarm blue,-of a warm blue, by all means, forasmuch as there be eyes called azure whose every glance is " nipping and eager." He hath a full chest, and a ruddy complexion. He is fond of the open air and of free exercise, heart and lungs being of goodly size 66 His shoulders broad, his armis lang, ing, Lord Byron, and it is in point to quote their words. Gilfillan attributes to him "the activity of a scalded fiend"-while the lady says, " he never seemed to do anything without a motive,"-two leading features in the picture of an unhappy man. The characteristic of a happy man is, cheerful spontaneous action, with an evident capacity for repose and Blest are they So that we can very well understand of the Whose blood and judgment are so well com maiden how it was that mingled, |
