CHAPTER IV. Cursory View of Poetry, with the Exception of the Drama, during the Age of Shakspeare. THE space which elapsed between the birth and the death of Shakspeare, from April 1564 to April 1616, a period of fifty-two years, may be pronounced, perhaps the most fertile in our annals, with regard to the production of poetical literature. only were the great outlines of every branch of poetry chalked out with skill an precision, but many of its highest departments were filled up and finished in manner so masterly as to have bid defiance to all subsequent competition. Con sequently, if we take a survey of the various channels through which the genit of poetry has been accustomed to diffuse itself, it will be found, that, during the half century every province had its cultivators; that poems, epic and dramatic historic and didactic, lyric and romantic, that satires, pastorals, and sonnets, song madrigals, and epigrams, together with a multitude of translations, brightene and embellished its progress. On a subject, however, so productive, and which would fill volumes, it is neces sary that, in consonancy with the limits and due keeping of our plan, the utmos solicitude for condensation be observed. In this chapter, accordingly, which, t a certain extent, is meant to be introductory to a critical consideration of the mis cellaneous poems of Shaskpeare, the dramatic writers are omitted; a futur section of the work being appropriated to a detail of their more peculiar labour for the stage. After a few general observations, therefore, on the poetry of this era, it is ou intention to give short critical notices of the principal bards who flourished durin its transit; and with the view of affording some idea of the extensive culture and diffusion of poetic taste, an alphabetical table of the minor poets, accompanied b slight memoranda, will be added. An account of the numerous Collections Poetry which reflect so much credit on this age, and a few remarks and inferences more particularly with respect to Shakspeare's study of his immediate predecessor and contemporaries in miscellaneous poetry, will complete this portion of ou subject. The causes which chiefly contributed to produce this fertility in poetical genic may, in a great measure, be drawn from what has been already remarked under the heads of superstition, literature, and romance. The sun of philosophy and science, which had just risen with the most cap tivating beauty, and which promised a meridian of uncommon splendour, ha not yet dissipated those mists that for centuries had enveloped and darkened the human mind. What remained, however, of the popular creed, was much les gross and less contradictory to common experience, than what had vanishe from the scroll; these reliques were, indeed, such as either appealed powerful to a warm and creative imagination, or were intimately connected with thes apprehensions which agitate the breast of man when speculating on his destiny in another and higher order of existence. Under the first of these classes may be included all that sportive, wild, an terrific imagery which resulted from a partial belief in the operations of faires witches, and magicians, and the reveries of the alchemist, the rosicrusian, an the astrologer; and under the second will be found, what can scarcely be terme superstition in the customary sense, that awful and mysterious conception of the spiritual word, which supposes its frequent intervention, through the agency either of departed spirits, or superhuman beings. The opinions which prevailed with regard to these topics in the days of Shakspeare, were such as exactly suited the higher regions of poetry, without giving any violent shock to the deductions of advancing philosophy. The national credulity had been, in fact, greatly chastised, through the efforts of enquiry and research, and though it may still appear great to us, was in perfect accordance with the progress of civilisation, and certainly much better calculated for poetic purposes than has been any subsequent though purer creed. The state of literature, too, was precisely of that kind which favoured, in a very high degree, the nurture of poetical genius. The vocabulary of our language was rich, beyond all example, both in natives and exotics; not only in "new grafts of old withered words,' but in a multitude of expressive terms borrowed from the learned languages; and this wealth was used freely and without restriction, and without the smallest apprehension of censure. An enthusiastic spirit for literary acquisition had been created and cherished by the revival, the study, and the translation of the ancient classics; and through this medium an exhaustless mine of imagery and illusion was laid open to our vernacular poets. Nor were these advantages blighted or checked by the fastidious canons of dictatorial criticism. Puttenham's was the only "Art of poetry" which had made its appearance, and, though a taste for discussion of this kind was rapidly advancing, the poet was yet left independent of the critic; at liberty to indulge every flight of imagination, and every sally of feeling; to pursue his first mode of conception, and to adopt the free diction of the moment. The age of chivalry and romance, also, had not yet passed away; the former, it is true, was verging fast towards dissolution, but its tone was still exalting and heroic, while the latter continued to throw a rich, though occasionally a fantastic light over every species of poetic composition. In short, the unrestricted copiousness of our language, the striking peculiarities of our national superstition, the wild beauties of Gothic invention, and the playful sallies of Italian fiction, combined with a plentiful infusion of classic lore, and operating on native genius, gave origin, not only to an unparalleled number of great bards, but to a cast of poetry unequalled in this country for its powers of description and creation, for its simplicity and energy of diction, and for its wide dominion over the feelings. If we proceed to consider the versification, economy, and sentiment of the Elizabethan poetry, candour must confess, that considerable defects will be found associated with beauties equally prominent, especially in the first and second of these departments. We must be understood, however, as speaking here only of rhymed poetry, for were the blank verse of our dramatic poets of this epoch included, there can be no doubt but that in versification likewise the palm must be awarded to Shakspeare and his contemporaries. Indeed, even in the construction of rhyme, the inferiority of our ancestors is nearly, if not altogether, confined to their management of the pentameter couplet; and here, it must be granted, that, in their best artificers of this measure, in the pages of Daniel, Drayton, and Browne, great deficiencies are often perceptible both in harmony and cadence, in polish and compactness. It has been said by a very pleasing, and, in general, a very judicious critic, "the older poets disdained stooping to the character of syllable-mongers; as their conceptions were vigorous, they trusted to the simple provision of nature for their equipment; and though often introduced into the world ragged, they are always healthy." Now versification is to poetry what colouring is to painting, and though by no means among the higher provinces of the art, yet he who disdains its cultivation, loses one material hold upon the reader's attention; for, though plainness and simplicity of garb best accord with Preface to Gondibert. Vide Chalmers's English Poets, vol. vi. p. 351. + Headley's Select Beauties of Ancient English Poetry, vol. i. Introduction, p. 19. edit. 1810. vigour, sublimity, or pathos of conception, raggedness can never coincide in the production of any grand or pleasing effect. It is remarkable, however, that, in lyrical composition, the poets of Elizabeth's reign, so far from being defective in harmony of metre, frequently possess the most studied modulation; and numbers of their songs and madrigals, as well as many stanzas of their longer poems constructed on the model of the Italian octava rima, exhibit in their versification so much high-finishing, and such an exquisite polish, as must render doubtful, in this province at least, the assumed superiority of modern art. A more striking desideratum in the poetry of this era has arisen from a want of economy in the use of imagery and ornament, and in the distribution of parts as relative to a whole. That relief, which is produced by a judicious management of light and shade, appears to have been greatly neglected; the eye, after having been fatigued by an unsubdued splendour and warmth of style, suddenly passes to an extreme poverty of colouring, without any intermediate tint to blend and harmonize the parts; in short, to drop the metaphor, after a prodigal profusion of imagery and description, the exhausted bard sinks for pages together into a strain remarkable only for its flatness and imbecility. To this want of union in style, may be added an equal defalcation in the disposition, connection, and dependency of the various portions of an extended whole. These requisites, which are usually the result of long and elaborate study, have been successfully cultivated by the moderns, who, since the days of Pope, have paid a scrupulous attention to the mechanism of versification, to the consonancy and keeping of style, and to the niceties and economy of arrangement. We can ascribe, however, to the poets of Elizabeth's reign the greater merit of excelling in energy and truth of sentiment, in simplicity of diction, in that artless language of nature which irresistibly makes its way to the heart. To excite the emotions of sublimity, of pity, an appeal to the artificial graces of modern growth will not be found successful; on the contrary, experience has taught us, that in the higher walks of poetry, where sensations of grandeur and astonishment are to be raised, or where the passions in all their native vigour are to be called forth, we must turn to the earlier stages of the art, when the poet, unshackled by the overwhelming influence of venerated models, unawed by the frowns of criticism, and his flow of thought undiverted by any laborious at tention to the minutia of diction and cadence, looked abroad for himself, and drew fresh from the page of surrounding nature, and from the workings of his own breast, the imagery, and the feelings, which he was solicitous to impress. In consequence of this self-dependence, this appeal to original sources, the poetry of the period under our notice possesses a strength, a raciness, and verisimilitude which have since very rarely been attained, and which more than compensate for any subordinate defects in the ornamental departments of metre, or style. It is conceivable, indeed, that a poet may arise, who shall happily combine, even in a long poem of the highest class, the utmost refinements of recent art, with the originality, strength, and independency of our elder bards; it is a phenomenon, however, rather to be wished for than expected, as the excellencies peculiar to these widely separated eras appear to be, in their highest degree, nearly incompatible. Yet is the attempt not to be given up in despair; in short poems, especially of the lyric species, we know that this union has been effected among us; for Gray, to very lofty flights of sublimity, has happily united the utmost splendour of diction, and the utmost brilliancy of versification; and even in a later and more extended instance, in "The Pleasures of Hope" by Mr. Campbell, we find some of the noblest conceptions of poetry clothed in metre exquisitely sweet, and possessing at the same time great variety of modulation, and a considerable share of simplicity in its construction. If, however, upon the large scale, which the highest cast of poetry demands, the studied harmony of later times be found incapable of coalescing with effect, there can be no doubt what school we should adopt; for who would not prefer the sublime though unadorned conception of Michael Angelo to the glowing colouring even of such an artist as Titian? Of the larger poems of the age of Shakspeare, the defects may be considered as of two kinds, either apparent only, or real; under the first may be classed that want of high-finishing which is the result, partly of its incompatibility with grsatness of design, and partly as the effect of a just taste; for much of the minor poetry of the reign of Elizabeth, as hath been previously observed, is polished even to excess; while under the second are to be placed the positive defects of want of union in style, and want of connection and arrangement in economy; omissions not resulting from necessity, and which are scarcely to be atoned for by any excellencies, however transcendent. It is creditable to the present age, that in the higher poetry several of our bards have in a great degree reverted to the ancient school; that, in attempting to emulate the genius of their predecessors, they have judiciously adopted their strength and simplicity of diction, their freedom and variety of metre, preserving at the same time, and especially in the disposition of their materials, and the keeping of their style, whatever of modern refinement can aptly blend with or heighten the effect of the sublime, though often severely chaste outline, of the first masters of their art. That meretricious glare of colouring, that uniform though seductive polish, and that monotony of versification, which are but too apparent in the school of Pope, and which have been carried to a disgusting excess by Darwin and his disciples, not only vitiate and dilute all development of intense emotion, but even paralyse that power of picturesque delineation, which can only subsist under an uncontrolled freedom of execution, where, both in language and rhythm, the tmost variety and energy have their full play. He who in sublimity and pathos has made the nearest approach to our three immortal bards, Spenser, Shakspeare and Milton, and who may, therefore, claim the fourth place in our poetical annals, the lamented Chatterton; and he who, in the present day, stands unrivalled for his numerous and masterly sketches of character, and for the truth, locality, and Vigour of his descriptions, the poet of Marmion and of Rokeby, are both well known to have built their fame upon what may be emphatically termed the old English school of poesy. The difference between them is, that while both revert to the costume and imagery of the olden time, one adheres, in a great measure, to the language of his day, while the other must be deemed a laborious though not very successful imitator of the phraseology and extrinsic garb of the remote period to which, for no very laudable purpose, he has assigned his productions. These few remarks on the poetry of our ancestors being premised, the critical notices to which we have alluded, may with propriety commence; and in executing this part of the subject, as well as in the tabular form which follows, an alphabetical arrangement will be observed. 1. BEAUMONT, SIR JOHN. Though the poems of this author were not published, yet were they written, during the age of Shakspeare, and consequently demand ur notice in this chapter. He was the elder brother of Francis the dramatic poet, and was born at Gracedieu, in Leicestershire, in 1582. He very early attached himself to poetical studies, and all his productions in this way were The amusements of his youthful days. Of these, the most elaborate is entitled "Bosworth Field," a very animated and often a very poetical detail of the circumstances which are supposed immediately to precede and accompany this relebrated struggle. The versification merits peculiar praise; there is an ease, a Vigour, and a harmony in it, not equalled, perhaps, by any other poet of his time; many of the couplets, indeed, are such as would be distinguished for the beauty of their construction, even in the writings of Pope. An encomium so strong as this may require some proofs for its support, and among the number which might be brought forward, three shall be adduced as specimens not only of finished ver sification, but of the energy and heroism of the sentiments which pervade thi striking poem. "There he beholds a high and glorious throne, Ferrers, addressing Richard, exclaims, "I will obtaine to-day, alive or dead, The crownes that grace a faithfull souldiers head. Extending warlike armes for England's good, On the flight of Catesby, who advises Richard to embrace a similar mode o securing his personal safety, the King indignantly answers, "Let cowards trust their horses' nimble feete, To me ignoble flight is worse than death." Of the conclusion of Bosworth Field, Mr. Chalmers has justly observed, that "the lines describing the death of the tyrant may be submitted with confidence to the admirers of Shakspeare." The translations and miscellaneous poems of Sir John include several pieces of considerable merit. We would particularly point out Claudian's Epigram on the Old Man of Verona, and the verses on his "dear sonne Gervase Beaumont." Sir John died in the winter of 1628, aged forty-six. 2. BRETON, NICHOLAS. Of this prolific poet few authenticated facts are known. His first publication, entitled, "A small handfull of fragrant flowers," was printed in 1575; if we therefore allow him to have reached the age of twentyone before he commenced a writer, the date of his birth may, with some probabability, be assigned to the year 1554. The number of his productions was s great, that a character in Beaumont and Fletcher's "Scornful Lady," declares that he had undertaken "with labour and experience the collection of those thousand pieces-of that our honour'd Englishman, Nich. Breton." (Act ii.) Ritson has given a catalogue of twenty-nine, independent of his contributions to the "Phoenix Nest" and "England's Helicon," and five more are recorded by Mr. Park in the Censura Literaria. Most of these are poetical, some a mixed composition of rhyme and prose, and a few entirely prose; they are all extremely scarce, cer tainly not the consequence of mediocrity or want of notice, for they have been praised by Puttenham, † Meres, ‡ and Phillips; and one of his most beautiful ballads is inserted in "The Muse's Library," 1740. After a lapse of twenty-five years, Dr. Percy recalled the attention of the public to our author by inserting in his Reliques the same piece which Mrs. Cowper had previously chosen; § in 1801 Mr. Ellis favoured us with eight specimens, from his pamphlets and England's Helicon,' and Mr. Park has since added two very valuable extracts to the number. These induce us to wish for a more copious selection, and at the same time enable us to declare, that as a lyric and pastoral poet he possessed, if no a splendid, yet a pleasing and elegant flow of fancy, together with great sweetness Vol. ix. p. 163. + Vide Censura Literaria, vol. ix. p. 47. Specimens of the Early English Poets, vol. ii. p.240, Arte of English Poesie, reprint of 1811. p. 49. ++ Censura Literaria, vol. ix. pp. 159, 161 |