O forth issúed the Seasons of the year; First lusty Spring, all dight in leaves of flowers That freshly budded, and new blooms did bear, In which a thousand birds had built their bowers,

B

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THE PROCESSION OF THE SEASONS.

That sweetly sung to call forth paramours ;
And in his hand a javelin he did bear,
And on his head (as fit for warlike stoures)
A gilt engraven morion he did wear,

That as some did him love, so others did him fear.

Then came the jolly Summer, being dight
In a thin silken cassock coloured green,
That was unlinéd all, to be more light,
And on his head a garland well beseen
He wore, from which, as he had chafed been,
The sweat did drop, and in his hand he bore
A bow and shafts, as he in forest green

Had hunted late the leopard or the boar,

And now would bathe his limbs with labour heated sore.

Then came the Autumn, all in yellow clad,

As though he joyéd in his plenteous store,

Laden with fruits that made him laugh, full glad
That he had banished hunger, which to-fore

Had by the belly oft him pinchéd sore ;

Upon his head a wreath, that was enrolled

With ears of corn of every sort, he bore,
And in his hand a sickle he did hold,

To reap the ripened fruits the which the earth had yold.

Lastly came Winter, clothed all in frieze,
Clattering his teeth for cold that did him chill,

[EDMUND SPENSER, whose name holds foremost rank among the poets who adorned the Elizabethan era, was born in London about the year 1553. Through the kind offices of his friend, Gabriel Harvey, he obtained the favour of the great and good Sir Philip Sydney, whose generous patronage of the young and gifted poet adds another to his many claims to the gratitude of the English people. Put forward at Court through Sydney's influence, Spenser first became Secretary to the Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, and afterwards obtained a large grant of land in the county of Cork. On his estate he resided

THE PROCESSION OF THE SEASONS.

Whilst on his hoary beard his breath did freeze,
And the dull drops that from his purpled bill
As from a limbeck did adown distil;

In his right hand a tippéd staff he held,
With which his feeble steps he stayed still,

For he was faint with cold and weak with eld,
That scarce his looséd limbs he able was to weld.

And after these there came the Day and Night,
Riding together both with equal pace ;
The one on palfrey black, the other white;
But Night had covered her uncomely face
With a black veil, and held in hand a mace,
On top whereof the moon and stars were pight;
And sleep and darkness round about did trace ;
But Day did bear upon his sceptre's height
The goodly Sun encompassed all with beamës bright.

Then came the Hours, fair daughters of high Jove
And timely Night; the which were all endued.

With wondrous beauty fit to kindle love;

But they were virgins all, and love eschewed

That might forslack the charge to them foreshewed
By mighty Jove; who did them porters make
Of heaven's gate (whence all the gods issúed),
Which they did daily watch and nightly wake
By even turns, nor ever did their charge forsake.
SPENSER. [From "The Faerie Queene."]

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several years, visiting England occasionally to superintend the publication of his great work, "The Faerie Queene." Unfortunately, in the rebellion of Tyrone, his house was sacked, and one of his children perished. Spenser, compelled to flee for his life, retired to England, where he died, brokenhearted and in poverty, in 1598 Besides "The Faerie Queene," Spenser wrote "The Shepherd's Calendar," which contains many beautiful lines; but its fame was speedily eclipsed in that of the poet's masterpiece.]

Hymn to Diana.

UEEN and huntress, chaste and fair,
Now the sun is laid to sleep,

Seated in thy silver chair,

State in wonted manner keep:

Hesperus entreats thy light,

Goddess, excellently bright.

Earth, let not thy envious shade
Dare itself to interpose;

Cynthia's shining orb was made

Heaven to clear, when day did close:
Bless us then with wished sight,
Goddess, excellently bright.

Lay thy bow of pearl apart,

And thy crystal-shining quiver;

Give unto the flying hart

Space to breathe, how short soever :

Thou that mak'st a day of night,

Goddess, excellently bright.

BEN JONSON.

["Rare BEN JONSON," bricklayer, soldier, actor, dramatist, superintendent of masques at the English Court, and poet laureate, was born in 1574, and died in 1637. Some exquisite stanzas are interspersed among the songs he wrote for the Court "masques." Of his comedies, "Every Man in his Humour " has kept possession of the stage, and is still occasionally represented. Ben was the friend and associate of Shakespeare.]