791 
P O E T R Y. 
pable of every modulation. Nothing but the great per¬ 
fection to which he brought the arts of verfifying and 
narrating maintains the popularity of Spenfer. The fub- 
je£t he chofe in his chef-d’oeuvre, “ The Faerie Queen,” 
being of that allegorical kind which is commonly fo tire- 
fome. Every one mull regret that Spenfer wafted his fine 
talents on fuch a fubjeft. But allegory was the favourite 
riddle of the day; and was perhaps a neceflary evil; for, 
when its excefs fubfided, iCturned to good; it engendered 
flights of imagination which, without this ftimulus, 
would, perhaps, never have been developed, There is 
one thing, however, which relieves us from the tedium 
of allegory in the Faerie Queen : this is, that one may 
read it through as a pretty narrative, without being trou¬ 
bled by the allegory at all ; and its beautiful descrip¬ 
tions and moral refleftions would refcue from oblivion a 
much duller fubjedl. Spenfer is a poet of chivalry and 
imagination; always in faery land, never in the world. 
Hence the lovers of dramatic ftyle and of the vis comica, 
muft prefer Chaucer ; and the extenfive range that the 
Canterbury Tales have taken among the Englifh peafan- 
try, (hows that at one time this author was very popular. 
Spenfer, on the other hand, is a poet who can delight only 
the accomplilhed reader. The tafte which enjoys him 
muft be formed and artificial. 
His “Shepherd’s Calendar” was publilhed in 1579. 
It confifts of twelve paftoral foliloquies or dialogues, to 
correfpond with the months of the year. In the firft 
Eclogue, January, we have the following lines from Colin 
complaining: 
Thou barraine ground, whom winter’s wrath hath wafted, 
Art made a mirrour to behold my plight : 
Whilome thy frefli Spring flower’d, and after hafted 
Thy fommer prou’de, with diffadillies dight; 
And now is come thy winter’s ftormie date, 
Thy mantle mard wherein thou mafkedft late. 
Such rage as winter raineth in my hart, 
My life-blood freezing with unkindly cold; 
Such ftormie (forms do breede my balefull fmart, 
As if my yeare were waft and waxen old; 
And yet alas ! but now my Spring begonne. 
And yet alas ! it is already donne. 
Yon naked trees, whofe (hady leaves are loft, 
Wherein the birds were wont to build their bowre, 
And now are clothed with mofs and hoarie froft, 
Infteede of blofomfe, wherewith your buds did flowre ; 
I fee your teares that from your bowes do raine, 
Whofe drops in drerie yficles remaine. 
Alfo my luftful leafe is drie and fere, 
My timely buds with wailing all are wafted ; 
The bloflome which my braunch of youth did beare 
With breathed (ighes is blowne away and blafted; 
And from mine eyes the drizzling teares defcend, 
As on your boughes the yficles depend. 
Thou feeble flocke ! whofe fleece is rough and rent, 
Whofe knees are weake through fall and evill fare, 
Maid witnefs well, by my ill government, 
Thy mailer’s mind is overcome with care: 
Thou weake, I wanne; thou leane, I quite forlorne : 
With mourning pine 1 5 you with pyning mourne. 
In the fecond Eclogue, or Februarie, a young and ef¬ 
feminate (hepherd is reproached by a vigorous old neat¬ 
herd with hislovefick whining and debility. The former 
treats the latter with indignity, who then takes occafion 
to-tell him a fable that very forcibly illuftrates the wic- 
kednefs of defpifing age. The fable in queftion confifts 
of a dialogue between a briar, “ embellilht with blofloms 
fayre,” whofe flowers were gathered by the (hepherd’s 
daughters, and whofe “ bullies ufed to (hroude” the 
nightingale, and an old and majeftic oak, whofe acorns 
had “ larded many fwine,” and who much “ maft to the 
hulbande did yielde.” 
His bared brows were beaten with ftorms 
His top was bald and wafted with wormes 
His honour decayed and branches fere. 
It is a very pleafing ta(k to view the power of imagina¬ 
tion Spenfer difplays in this dialogue. The natural con¬ 
ceit with which he inverts the young and vain; with a 
number of little grievances the briar has to complain of. 
It abufes the old oak, becaufe he keeps its fair blofloms 
from view, becaufe 
The mouldy mafs that thee accloyeth 
My finnamon fmell too much annoyeth ; 
becaufe his (hade hideth the funne’s light ; becaufe his 
old boughs beat its tender fide, broke its boughs, and 
made its flowers to fall; and his canker-worms light on its 
branches. Thefe grievances, related to a (hepherd, in¬ 
duce him to fell the oak, though 
The axe’s edge did oft turn againe, 
As half unwilling to cut the graine ; 
Seemed the fenfelefs yron did feare, 
Or to wrong holy Eld did forbeare ; 
For it had been an auncient tree, 
Sacred with many a myfterie ; 
And often croft with prieftes crewes 
And often hallowed with holy-water dewes. 
The briar, thus expofed to the wind and rain, to the 
fnow and the cattle, foon follows the deftruftion of the 
oak. Our readers will allow that this is Ample enough 
for the comprehenfion and narration of clowns ; and 
that, as it inculcates a very good and important moral, 
it is not therefore to be clafl'ed 1 with the mere paftorals 
of Theocritus and Virgil, but is fomething very fupe- 
rior. 
The fourth Eclogue, or April, introduces a fong which 
a (hepherd recites as the compofition of a boy he admires. 
It is an elegant compliment to queen Elizabeth, for 
whom is claimed the place of a fourth Grace; and her 
“ modeft face, her majeftie,” is praifed with enthufiafm. 
She is defcribed as fitting on the “graflie greene yclad in 
fcarlet and ermines white, with a crimfon coronet adorned 
with flowers on her head.” With the ufual mythological 
abfurdity of his age, our poet reprefents Elizabeth as the 
daughter of Pan and Syrinx; he extravagantly bids the 
funne not dare to compare his brightnefs with the queen’s, 
and aflerts that the god bluflied when, gazing on her, he 
found himfelf rivalled. 
The Eclogue for November has a lament on the death 
of one Dido, of very melancholy and touching effedl. It 
has thefe unfurpafled lines: 
Whence is it that the flowret of the field doth fade, 
And lyeth buried long in winter’s bale; 
Yet, foon as fpring his mantle hath difplayde, 
It flowereth fre(h, as it fliould never fayle? 
But thing on earth that is of mod availe 
As virtue’s branch and beauties bud 
Reliven not for any good. 
O heavy herfe ! 
The branch once dead, the bud eke needs muft quaile, 
O careful verfe! 
Thefe fpecimens (how that the Shepherd’s Calendar is 
worth perufal; a remark we think it neceflary to make, 
becaufe few perfons read any thing elfe of Spenfer’s ex¬ 
cept the Faerie Queen. Of this “ continued allegory,” 
or “ dark conceit,” as the author calls it, it muft; be ob- 
ferved, that the term Faerie Queene means Glory in the 
author’s “ general intention,” (as he himfelf exprefles it,) 
and, in his “particular,” the perfon of the queen of Eng¬ 
land. Then, following the example of the ancients,_ he 
forms one hero, who is a beau ideal of all excellencies, 
and who is enamoured of the Faerie Queene, or Glory ; 
and names him Arthur. 
The plan of the author was, that the court of the 
Fairy 
