ried fancy. Add to these the elfin beings conjured by his magic pen—the giants, dwarfs, monsters; the sprites, composed of snow and wax, of fire and dew. Then transport the mind to the scenery in which he places his characters-the green woods, the sea grottos, the noble castles, the subterranean caves, the fairy gardens, and you will just begin to fathom the inexhaustible depths of his fancy.

fair

Spenser's poetry has always been a delight to young versifiers. Probably no other poet has ever inspired so many men, great and little, to write verses. And that is quite natural. He is so stimulating to the imagination, his verse is such a store-house of fancy, that I can think of the younger poets settling on it as the bees of Mt. Hybla on a flowergarden. None of our poets have so exuberant an imagination, and of them all, Shakespeare's description fits Spenser best-"He is a creature of imagination, all compact,"

"And as imagination bodies forth

The forms of things unknown, the poet's pen
Turns them to shapes, and gives to airy nothing
A local habitation and a name."

TALK XVIII.

ON SIR PHILIP SIDNEY AND THE ARCADIA.

TO ALMOST every one who looks back in imagination upon

will

age of Queen Elizabeth, Sir Philip Sidney Born 1554.

appear one of the most interesting figures Died 1586. among all those that grace her court. He was noble in birth, gifted in mind, handsome in person, a favorite courtier of the Queen, a gallant soldier in the field, beloved by all who knew him, yet with all so modest, gentle, full of noble humanity, that he seems to have had all the virtues as well as all the grace of manhood. Nothing but good has ever been said of him, and one of the last acts of his life crowns

gloriously all that goes before. He died of a wound which he got at Zutphen, where he was fighting in the cause of the Netherlands, in their wars with Spain. Just as he was to be taken from the field after he had received his deathwound, a bottle of water was brought him to drink. As he was about to put it to his lips he saw a wounded soldier carried by, who cast wistfully at the water his dying eyes. This, Sir Philip seeing, gave the bottle to the poor man, saying simply, "Thy necessity is yet greater than mine." What fame of authorship could outshine the lustre of such a deed as this?

Yet, although writing was not the pursuit of his life, he had great gifts as a writer. He died at thirty-two, and his brief day was full of other affairs than those of literature, which in him seems only the amusement of an idle hour. If he had made it his first following, one can fancy he might have risen to great heights.

His principal works are his sonnets from Astrophel to Stella, in verse; and The Arcadia, and Defense of Poetry, in prose. The Arcadia is a romance inspired largely by the ideas of love and chivalry, which belong to the middle ages. The plot is very simple. Sidney calls it "an idle work which, like the spider's web, will be thought fitter to be swept away than worn to any other purpose." Two young princes, in disguise, wander into the kingdom of Arcadia, where King Basilius keeps his court, with his wife Gynecia and his two daughters Pamela and Philoclea. The two young strangers naturally fall in love with the two princesses, and the various adventures of these princely persons, with the stories of other heroes and heroines woven into the narrative, and occasional passages in verse, make the Arcadia.

In spite of its faults-and it has sometime the fault even of dullness-it is rich in fine sentences and lines that are almost a poem by themselves. You can see the nobility and the wisdom of Sidney's thoughts in the sentences which meet the eye as one turns over the leaves at random.

"I am no herald to inquire of men's pedigrees, it sufficeth me if I know their virtues."

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They are never alone that are accompanied with noble thoughts."

Of women he says:

"Nature is no step-mother to that sex, how much soever some men, sharp-witted only in evil speaking, have sought to disgrace them." "Provision is the foundation of hospitality, and thrift the fuel of magnificence.

“O, imperfect proportion of reason, which can too much forsee and too little prevent.'

"Condemning all men of evil because his mind had no eye to espy goodness."

"There is no service like his that serves because he loves."

'What's mine, even to my soul, is yours, but the secret of my friend is not mine."

The Arcadia contains many episodes, which taken out from their context would form complete and interesting stories by themselves. The best of these is the tale of Argalus and Parthenia, whose story appears at intervals through the book.. These are two lovers, who after many haps and mishaps, are united in wedlock. A beautiful passage describes them in their married estate, as they are visited by a messenger who comes to summon Argalus to go to war in aid of the two princesses who have been taken prisoner by their foes.

"The messenger made speed and found Argalus at a castle of his own, sitting in a parlor with his fair Parthenia, he reading in a book the stories of Hercules, she sitting by him as to hear him read, but while his eyes looked on the book, she looked in his eyes, sometimes staying him with some pretty question, not so much to be resolved of her doubt, as to give him occasion to look upon her. A happy couple! he joying in her, she joying in herself, but in herself, because she joyed in him; both increased their riches by giving to each other, each making one life double because they made a double life one. Where desire never wanted satisfaction, nor satisfaction ever bred satiety; he ruling because she would obey, or rather because she would obey, she therein ruling.

"But when the messenger came in, with letters in his hand and haste in his countenance, though she knew not what to fear, yet she feared, because she knew not, but rose and went aside while he de

livered his letters and message, and afar off she looked now at the messenger, and then at her husband, the same fear which made her loth to have cause of fear, yet making her seek cause to nourish her fear. And well she found there was some serious matter, for her husband's countenance figured some resolution between loathsomeness and necessity, and once his eyes cast upon her, and finding hers on him, he blushed, and she blushed because he blushed, then straight grew pale, because she knew not why he had blushed. But when he had read, and heard and dispatched away the messenger, like one in whom honor could not be rocked asleep by affection, with promise soon to follow, he came to Parthenia, and as sorry as might be for parting, but more sorry for her sorrow, he gave her the letter to read. She with fearful slowness took it, and with fearful quickness read it, and having read it, "Ah, my Argalus," said she, "and have you made such haste to answer, and are you so soon resolved to leave me?"

But he discoursing unto her how much it imported his honor, which, since it was dear to him, he knew it would be dear to her, her reason, overclouded with sorrow, suffered her not to reply, but left the charge thereof to tears and sighs, which he, not able to bear, left her alone, and went to give orders for his departure.

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But by the time he was armed and ready to go, she had recovered a little strength of spirit, and seeing him armed and wanting nothing for his departure but her farewell, she ran to him, took him by the arm, and kneeling down, without regard to who either heard her speech or saw her demeanor: 'My Argalus, my Argalus, do not thus forsake me. Remember, alas! remember that I have an interest in you which I will never yield shall be thus adventured. Your valor is already sufficiently known; sufficiently have you done for your coun try; enough there are beside you to lose less worthy lives. Woe is me! what shall become of me if you thus abandon me? Then was it time for you to follow these adventurers when you adventured nobody but yourself, and were nobody's but your own. But now, pardon me, now or never I claim mine own; mine you are, and without me you can undertake no danger, and will you endanger Parthenia? Parthenia shall be in the battle of your fight, Parthenia shall smart in your pain, and your blood must be bled by Parthenia!"

"Dear Parthenia," said he," this is the first time that ever you resisted my will; I thank you for it, but persevere not in it, and let not the tears of those beloved eyes be a presage of that which you would not should happen. I shall live, doubt not; for so great a blessing as you are, was not given unto me so soon to be deprived of it. Look for me, therefore, shortly, and victorious; prepare a joyful welcome, and I will wish for no other triumph." She answered

not, but stood up, as it were, thunder-stricken with amazement, for true love made obedience stand up against all other passions. But when he took her in his arms, she fell into a swoon, so he was fain to leave her to her gentlewomen, and carried away by the tyranny of honor, though with many a back-cast look and hearty groan, went to camp.

The story follows Argalus to the field, where he is killed in combat with his enemy Amphialus, dying in the arms of his Parthenia, who arrives upon the field only to receive his dying farewell, but not in time to save his life by her entreaties to his foe. Soon after this, Parthenia, dressing herself like a knight, in black armor, challenges Amphialus, and from him receives her own death-wound. Amphialus does not discover that it is Parthenia in disguise with whom he is fighting, until he has fatally wounded her, and then he is overcome with grief and shame at what he has done.

"Therefore Amphialus, putting off his head-piece and guantlets, kneeling down unto her, and with tears testifying his sorrow, he offered his hands, by himself accursed, to help her, protesting his life and power to be ready to do her honor. But Parthenia, who had inward messengers of the desired death's approach, looking on him, and straight turning away her feeble sight as from a delightless object, drawing out her words, which her breath, loath to depart from so sweet a body, did faintly deliver: "Sir," said she, "I pray you, if prayers have place in enemies, to let my maids take my body untouched by you. Argalus made no bargain with you, that the hands that killed him should help me. I have of them-and I not only pardon but thank you for it-the service which I desired. There rests nothing now, but that I go live with him, since whose death I've done nothing but die." Then pausing, and a little fainting, and again coming to herself: "O, sweet life, welcome," she said. "Now feel I the bands untied of the cruel death which so long hath held me. And, O life, O death, answer for me, that my thoughts have, not so a dream, tasted any comfort since they were deprived of Argalus. I come, Argalus, I come. And, O, God, hide my faults in thy mercies, and grant, as I feel thou dost, that in thy eternal love, we may love each other eternally;" and with this, casting up her hands and eyes to the skies, the noble soul departed, one might well assure himself, to heaven, which left the body in so heavenly a demeanor.

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