When I am dead, no doubt you shall be much sought unto; for the world thinks I was very rich; have a care to the fair pretences of men, for no greater misery can befall you in this life than to become a prey unto the world, and after to be despised. I speak, God knows, not to dissuade you from marriage, for it will be best for you, both in respect of God and of the world. As for me, I am no more yours, nor you mine; death hath cut us asunder, and God hath divided me from the world, and you from me. Remember your poor child for his father's sake, who loved you in his happiest estate. I sued for my life, but, God knows, it was for you and yours that I desired it for know it, my dear wife, your child is the child of a true man, who, in his own respect, despiseth death, and his mis-shapen and ugly forms. I can not write much (God knows how hardly I steal this time when all sleep), and it is also time for me to separate my thoughts from the world. Beg my dead body, which living was denied you, and either lay it in Sherburn or Exeter church, by my father and mother. I can say no more, time and death calleth me away. The everlasting God, powerful, infinite, and inscrutable God Almighty, who is goodness itself, the true light and life, keep you and yours, and have mercy upon me, and forgive my persecutors and false accusers, and send us, to meet in his glorious kingdom. My dear wife, farewell; bless my boy, pray for me, and let my true God hold you both in his

arms.

Besides the historical work already mentioned, and from which the first of the following extracts is taken, Raleigh composed a number of political and other pieces, some of which have never been published. Among those best known are his Maxims of State, The Cabinet Council, The Skeptic, and Advice to his Son; from the last of which we take the second of the following extracts :—

THE BATTLE OF THERMOPYLE.

After such time as Xerxes had transported the army over the Hellespont, and landed in Thrace (leaving the description of his passage alongst that coast, and how the river of Lissus was drunk dry by his multitudes, and the lake near to Pissyrus by his cattle, with other accidents in his marches towards Greece,) I will speak of the encounters he had, and the shameful and incredible overthrows which he received. As first at Thermopylæ, a narrow passage of half an acre of ground, lying between the mountains which divide Thessaly from Greece, where sometimes the Phocians had raised a wall with gates, which was then for the most part ruined. At this entrance, Leonidas, one of the kings of Sparta, with 300 Lacedæmonians, assisted with 1000 Tegeatæ and Mantineans, and 1000 Arcadians, and other Peloponnesians, to the number of 3100 in the whole, besides 100 Phocians, 400 Thebans, 700 Thespians, and all the forces (such as they were) of the bordering Locrians, defended the passage two whole days together against that huge army of the Persians. The valour of the Greeks appeared so excellent in this defence, that, in the first day's fight, Xerxes is said to have three times leaped out of his throne, fearing the destruction of his army by one handful of those men whom not long before he had utterly despised: and when the second day's attempt upon the Greeks had proved vain, he was altogether ignorant how to proceed further, and so might have continued, had not a runagate Grecian taught him a secret way, by which part of his army might ascend the ledge of mountains, and set upon the backs of those who kept the straits. But when the most valiant of the Persian army had almost inclosed the small forces of the Greeks, then did Leonidas, king of the Lacedæmonians, with his 300, and 700 Thespians, which were all that abode by him, refuse to quit the place which they had undertaken to make good, and with admirable courage, not only resist that world of men which charged them on all sides, but, issuing out

of their strength, made so great a slaughter of their enemies, that they might well be called vanquishers, though all of them were slain upon the place. Xerxes having lost in this last fight, together with 20,000 other soldiers and captains, two of his own brethren, began to doubt what inconvenience might befall him by the virtue of such as had not been present at these battles, with whom he knew that he shortly was to deal. Especially of the Spartans he stood in great fear, whose manhood had appeared singular in this trial, which caused him very carefully to inquire what numbers they could bring into the field. It is reported of Dieneces the Spartan, that when one thought to have terrified him by saying that the flight of the Persian arrows was so thick as would hide the sun, he answered thus:-'It is very good news, for then shall we fight in the cool shade.'

THREE RULES TO BE OBSERVED FOR THE PRESERVATION OF A MAN'S ESTATE.

Amongst all other things of the world, take care of thy estate, which thou shalt ever preserve if thou observe three things: first, that thou know what thou hast, what every thing is worth that thou hast, and to see that thou art not wasted by thy servants and officers. The second is, that thou never spend anything before thou have it; for borrowing is the canker and death of every man's estate. The third is, that thou suffer not thyself to be wounded for other men's faults, and scourged for other men's offences; which is, the surety for another, for thereby millions of men have been beggared and destroyed, paying the reckoning of other men's riot, and the charge of other men's folly and prodigality; if thou smart, smart for thine own sins; and, above all things, be not made an ass to carry the burdens of other men: if any friend desire thee to be his surety, give him a part of what thou hast to spare; if he press thee farther, he is not thy friend at all, for friendship rather chooseth harm to itself than offereth it. If thou be bound for a stranger, thou art a fool; if for a merchant, thou puttest thy estate to learn to swim; if for a churchman, he hath no inheritance; if for a lawyer, he will find an invasion by a syllable or word to abuse thee; if for a poor man, thou must pay it thyself; if for a rich man, he needs not; therefore, from suretyship, as from a man-slayer or enchanter, bless thyself; for the best profit and return will be this, that if thou force him for whom thou art bound, to pay it himself, he will become thy enemy; if thou use to pay it thyself, thou wilt be a beggar; and believe thy father in this, and print it in thy thought, that what virtue soever thou hast, be it never so manifold, if thou be poor withal, thou and thy qualities shall be despised. Besides, poverty is ofttimes sent as a curse of God: it is a shame amongst men, an imprisonment of the mind, a vexation of every worthy spirit; thou shalt neither help thyself nor others; thou shalt drown thee in all thy virtues, having no means to show them; thou shalt be a burden and an eyesore to thy friends, every man will fear thy company; thou shalt be driven basely to beg and depend on others, to flatter unworthy men, to make dishonest shifts: and, to conclude, poverty provokes a man to do infamous and detested deeds; let no vanity, therefore, or persuasion, draw thee to that worst of worldly miseries.

If thou be rich, it will give thee pleasure in health, comfort in sickness, keep thy mind and body free, save thee from many perils, relieve thee in thy elder years, relieve the poor and thy honest friends, and give means to thy posterity to live, and defend themselves and thine own fame. Where it is said in the Proverbs, 'That he shall be sore vexed that is a surety for a stranger, and he that hateth suretyship is sure;' it is further said, 'The poor is hated even of his own neighbour; but the rich have many friends.' Lend not to him that is mightier than thyself, for if thou lendest him, count it but lost; be not surety above thy power, for if thou be surety, think to pay it.

SIR PHILIP SIDNEY, perhaps the most brilliant ornament of the court of queen Elizabeth, was the son of Sir Henry Sidney, and Mary, eldest daughter of John Dudley, duke of Northumberland. He was born at Penshurst in Kent, on the twenty-ninth of November, 1554, and received his Christian name from king Philip of Spain, who had recently married queen Mary. When in the fourteenth year of his age, he was sent to Christ Church College, Oxford, having previously greatly distinguished himself at the grammar-school of Shrewsbury. From Oxford he removed to Cambridge, and at each university displayed remarkable acuteness of intellect, and great thirst for knowledge. At the age of seventeen, without taking a degree, he relinquished his collegiate studies, and left England to make the tour of the continent. He passed three years abroad, and during his absence travelled through the Netherlands, France, Germany, and Italy; and on his return to England, in 1575, was received by queen Elizabeth with marked and distinguished favor. During the following year the queen sent him to Germany on a mission of condolence to the emperor, upon the death of Maximilian. On his return toward his own country, he took occasion to visit Don John of Austria, viceroy in the Netherlands for the king of Spain, and William prince of Orange; the former of whom was so charmed with his youth, wit, and elegance of manners, that he treated him with more attention and respect than he did the ambassadors of great princes at his court.

While Sidney was thus basking in the sunshine of royal favor at home and abroad, and was the idol of the English nation, he, in 1580, unfortunately allowed the impetuosity of his temper so far to overcome his better judgment, that in consequence of a quarrel with the Earl of Oxford, he relinquished the court, and retired to the seat of his brother-in-law, the Earl of Pembroke. Here, in the shades of Wilton, the Earl's seat, he composed his heroic romance, The Arcadia, and inscribed it to his sister, the Countess. This production was never finished; and, not having been intended for the press, did not appear till after Sir Philip's death. His next work was a tract entitled The Defence of Poesy, the design of which was to repel the objections brought by the Puritans of that age against the poetic art, the possessors of which they contemptuously denominated 'caterpillars of the commonwealth.' This production, though written with the partiality of a poet, is deservedly admired for the beauty of its style, and the general soundness of its reasonings. In 1584, the character of his uncle, the celebrated Earl of Leicester, having been attacked in a publication called Leicester's Commonwealth, Sidney wrote a reply, in which, although the heaviest accusations were passed over in silence, he did not scruple to heap upon his opponent the most opprobrious epithets. This performance of Sir Philip seems to have proved unsatisfactory to Leicester and his friends, as it was not published till toward the middle of the eighteenth century.

Sidney was not formed for repose, and his retirement now becoming irksome to him, he contemplated an expedition with Sir Francis Drake, against the Spanish settlements in America; but this design was frustrated by a

peremptory mandate from the queen. In 1585, such was his reputation abroad, that he was named as one of the candidates for the crown of Poland, at that time vacant; on which occasion Elizabeth again threw obstacles in his way, being afraid ' to lose the jewel of her times.' He was not, however, permitted to remain long unemployed; for in the same year the queen, having determined to send assistance to the Protestants of the Netherlands, then groaning beneath the oppressive yoke of the Spaniards, he was appointed governor of Flushing, one of the towns ceded to the English in return for this aid. Soon after, the Earl of Leicester, with an army of six thousand men, went over to the Netherlands, where he was joined by Sir Philip, as guard of the horse. The conduct of the Earl in that war was highly imprudent, and such as to call forth repeated expressions of dissatisfaction from his nephew Sir Philip. The military exploits of the latter were, on the contrary, highly honorable to him; in particular, the taking of the town of Axel in 1586. His career was destined, however, to be short; for having, in September of the same year, accidentally encountered a detachment of the Spanish army at Zutphen, he received a wound, which, in a few weeks, proved mortal. As he was being carried from the field, a well-known incident occurred by which the generosity of his nature was strongly displayed. Overcome with thirst from excessive bleeding and fatigue, he called for water, which was immediately brought to him; but as he was lifting it to his mouth, a poor soldier happened to be carried by, desperately wounded, who at once fixed his eyes eagerly on the cup. Sir Philip, observing this, instantly delivered the beverage to him, with the simple remark, 'Thy necessity is yet greater than mine.' Sidney's death, which occurred on the nineteenth of October, 1586, at the early age of thirty-two, was deeply and extensively lamented. His bravery and chivalrous magnanimity—his grace and polish of manner-the purity of his morals-his learning and refinement of taste --had procured for him love and esteem wherever he was known. By the direction of queen Elizabeth, his remains were conveyed to London, and honored with a public funeral in St. Paul's Cathedral.

To Sir Philip Sidney's poetry we have already alluded; but it is chiefly as a prose writer that he maintains and deserves a prominent place in English literature. In judging of his merits, we should bear in mind the early age at which his career was closed. His 'Arcadia,' on which his fame chiefly rests, was so universally read and admired in the reigns of Elizabeth and her successor, that, in 1633, it had reached the eighth edition. This great work, though the changes which have taken place since it was written, in taste, manners, and opinions, may render it unsuited to modern readers, still must be admitted to contain passages of exquisite beauty-useful observations on life and manners a variety and accurate discrimination of characters-fine sentiments expressed in strong and adequate terms-animated descriptions, equal to any that occur in the ancient or modern poets-sage lessons of morality, and judicious reflections on government and policy. Sidney was, in reality, the best prose writer of the age, and what Cowper felicitously calls

him, a 'warbler of poetic prose.' In personal character, he, like most men of high sensuality and poetical feeling, was strongly inclined to melancholy, and frequently indulged this luxurious feeling to excess. As our extracts from this writer must necessarily be limited, we shall introduce only the following:

DESCRIPTION OF ARCADIA.

There were hills which garnished their proud heights with stately trees; humble valleys, whose base estate seemed comforted with the refreshing of silver rivers; meadows, enamelled with all sorts of eye-pleasing flowers; thickets, which being lined with most pleasant shade, were witnessed so to, by the cheerful disposition of many well-tuned birds; each pasture stored with sheep, feeding with sober security; while the pretty lambs, with bleating oratory, craved the dam's comfort; here a shepherd's boy piping, as though he should never be old; there a young shepherdess knitting, and withal singing; and it seemed that her voice comforted her hands to work, and her hands kept time to her voice-music.

A TEMPEST.

There arose even with the sun a vail of dark clouds before his face, which shortly, like ink poured into water, had blacked over all the face of heaven, preparing, as it were, a mournful stage for a tragedy to be played on. For, forthwith the winds began to speak louder, and, as in a tumultuous kingdom, to think themselves fittest instruments of commandment; and blowing whole storms of hail and rain upon them, they were sooner in danger than they could almost bethink themselves of change. For then the traitorous sea began to swell in pride against the afflicted navy, under which, while the heaven favoured them, it had lain so calmly; making mountains of itself, over which the tossed and tottering ship should climb, to be straight carried down again to a pit of hellish darkness, with such cruel blows against the sides of the ship, that, which way soever it went, was still in his malice, that there was left neither power to stay nor way to escape. And shortly had it so dissevered the loving company, which the day before had tarried together, that most of them never met again, but were swallowed up in his never-satisfied mouth.

PRAISE OF POETRY.

The philosopher showeth you the way, he informeth you of the particularities, as well of the tediousness of the way, as of the pleasant lodging you shall have when your journey is ended, as of the many bye-turnings that may divert you from your way; but this is to no man, but to him that will read him, and read him with attentive studious painfulness, which constant desire whosoever hath in him, hath already passed half the hardness of the way, and therefore is beholden to the philosopher but for the other half. Nay, truly, learned men have learnedly thought, that where once reason hath so much overmastered passion, as that the mind hath a free desire to do well, the inward light each man hath in itself is as good as a philosopher's book; since in nature we know it is well to do well, and what is well and what is evil, although not in the words of art which philosophers bestow upon us; for out of natural conceit the philosophers drew it. But to be moved to do that which we know, or to be moved with the desire to know, 'hoc opus hic labor est'—(this is the grand difficulty.')

Now, therein, of all sciences (I speak still of human, and according to the human conceit) is our poet the monarch. For he doth not only show the way, but giveth so sweet a prospect into the way, as will entice any man to enter into it. Nay, he doth, as if your journey should lie through a fair vineyard, at the very first, give you