18 CRITICAL NOTICES OF 



Whose absence, yet although my hope doth tell me playne, 



With short return, he comes anone, yet ceaseth not my pain : 



The fearfull dreames I have, oft time doe grieve me so, 



That when I wake, I lye in doubt where they be true or no : 



Sometimes the roaring seas, me seems doe grow so hye, 



That my dear lord, ay me, alas ! methinks I see him dye ! 



At other times, the same doth tell me he is come, 



And playing, where I shall him find, with his fair little sonne 



So forth I goe apace, to see that lefesome sight, 



And with a kiss, methinks I say, ' Welcome my lord, my knight ; 



Welcome my swete, alas ! the stay of my welfare, 



Thy presence bringeth forth a truce atwixt me and my care :' 



Then lively doth he look, and kisseth me agayne, 



And sayeth, ' My dear, how is it now that you have all this payne ? ' 



Wherewith the heavy cares, that heapt are in my brest, 



Break forth, and me dischargen clene, of all my huge unrest. 



But when I me awake, and find it but a dreame, 



The anguish of my former wo beginneth more extreme, 



And me tormenteth so, that uueath may I fynde 



Some hidden peace, wherein to slake the gnawing of my mynde. 



Thus every way you see, wyth absence how I burue, 



And for my wound no cure I fynde, but hoape of good returne : 



Save, when I thinke, by sowre, how swete is felt the more, 



It doth abate me of some paynes, that I abode before : 



And when unto myself I say, when we agayne shall mete, 



But little while shall seem this payne, the joy shall be so swete. 



Ye wyndes ! I ye conjure in chieiest of your rage 



That ye my lord doe safely send, my sorrowes to assuage ! 



And that I may not long abyde in this exesse, 



Do your good will to cure a wyght that liveth in distress." 



The feelings of a wife, and of a mother, whose love is still in its 

 noon-day glory, are most beautifully given, because most naturally 

 depictured in the above complaint, whilst the leading sentiment is 

 sustained unbroken throughout it. Its style is chaste, its measure 

 harmonious, and its language, notwithstanding its slight quaintess, is 

 elegant, and would do no dishonour to the taste of the most refined 

 writer of the present day. 



Wyat, although wanting in the simple dignity and easy flow of 

 images which characterise the works of Surrey, had merits of a high 

 but different order. Some of his " Songes and Sonnets" are, 

 perhaps, equal in pathos and natural description to those of his 

 friend; oftener, however, the style is involved, and he runs his 

 feelings through the gauntlet of the Italian inflections. Still they 

 are eminently beautiful, notwithstanding that his language, as well 

 as his thoughts, wants the simplicity of his noble contemporary. He 

 shines in easy satire, and there is an Horatian elegance and readiness 

 of expression running through his " Epistles to Poines and Bryan," 

 infinitely superior to the style and manner of Hall and Donne, both 

 his successors, although Hall wrote finely and systematically. To 

 Wyat also belongs the honour of being the first English poet who 



