The Sonnet which precedes this has also the marked character of the same respectful affection; and, like the 26th, in all probability accompanied some offering of friendship: Let those who are in favour with their stars Then happy I, that love and am belov'd, Where I may not remove, nor be remov'd.-25. Again, the 23rd Sonnet is precisely of the same character. All these appear to us wholly unconnected with the poems which surround them-little gems, perfect in themselves, and wanting no setting to add to their beauty : As an unperfect actor on the stage, Who with his fear is put besides his part, : Or some fierce thing replete with too much rage, The perfect ceremony of love's rite, And in mine own love's strength seem to decay, O let my books be then the eloquence And dumb presagers of my speaking breast; To hear with eyes belongs to love's fine wit.-23. Between the 23rd and 25th Sonnets, which we have just given-remarkable as they are for the most exquisite simplicity of thought and diction-occurs the following conceit: : Mine eye hath play'd the painter, and hath stell'd Thy beauty's form in table of my heart; My body is the frame wherein 't is held, And perspective it is best painter's art. For through the painter must you see his skill, Yet eyes this cunning want to grace their art, They draw but what they see, know not the heart.-24. But, separated by a long interval, we find two variations of the air, entirely out of Can we doubt that these three form one little poem of place where they occur. themselves? Mine eye and heart are at a mortal war, How to divide the conquest of thy sight; Mine eye my heart thy picture's sight would bar, My heart mine eye the freedom of that right. (A closet never pierc'd with crystal eyes,) A quest of thoughts, all tenants to the heart; The clear eye's moiety, and the dear heart's part: As thus; mine eye's due is thine outward part, Betwixt mine eye and heart a league is took, Thyself away art present still with me; For thou not farther than my thoughts canst move, Or if they sleep, thy picture in my sight Awakes my heart to heart's and eye's delight.—47. The 77th Sonnet interrupts the continuity of a poem which we shall presently give, in which the writer refers, with some appearance of jealousy, to an "alien pen." There can be no doubt that this Sonnet is completely isolated. It is clearly intended to accompany the present of a note-book : Thy glass will show thee how thy beauties wear, Thy dial how thy precious minutes waste; Commit to these waste blanks, and thou shalt find Those children nurs'd, deliver'd from thy brain, Shall profit thee, and much enrich thy book.-77. The 76th to the 87th Sonnets (omitting the 77th and 81st) have been held to refer to a particular event in the poetical career of Shakspere. He expresses something like jealousy of a rival poet--a "better spirit." By some, Spenser is supposed to be alluded to; by others, Daniel. But we do not accept these stanzas as a proof that William Herbert is the person always addressed in these Sonnets, for the alleged reason that Daniel was patronised by the Pembroke family, and that, in 1601, he dedicated a book to William Herbert, to which Shakspere is held to allude in the 82nd Sonnet, by the expression "dedicated words." This is Mr. Boaden's theory. One of the Sonnets, supposed also to refer to William Herbert as a man right fair," was published in 1599, when the young nobleman was only nineteen years of age. But in the stanzas which relate to some poetical rivalry, real or imaginary, the person addressed has 66 The praises of the "lovely boy," be he William Herbert or not, are always confined to his personal appearance and his good nature. There is a quiet tone about the following which separates them from the Sonnets addressed to that "unknown youth;" and yet they may be as unreal as we believe most of those to be : Why is my verse so barren of new pride? To new-found methods and to compounds strange? And keep invention in a noted weed, That every word doth almost tell my name, Showing their birth, and where they did proceed? O know, sweet love, I always write of you, For as the sun is daily new and old, So is my love still telling what is told.-76. So oft have I invok'd thee for my muse, And found such fair assistance in my verse, As every alien pen hath got my use, And under thee their poesy disperse. Thine eyes, that taught the dumb on high to sing, And heavy ignorance aloft to fly, Have added feathers to the learned's wing, And given grace a double majesty. Yet be most proud of that which I compile, But thou art all my art, and dost advance Whilst I alone did call upon thy aid, Then thank him not for that which he doth say, O, how I faint when I of you do write, On your broad main doth wilfully appear. Then if he thrive, and I be cast away, The worst was this ;-my love was my decay.-80. I grant thou wert not married to my muse, The dedicated words which writers use In true plain words, by thy true-telling friend; Where cheeks need blood; in thee it is abus'd.-82. I never saw that you did painting need, And therefore to your fair no painting set. VOL. XII. I found, or thought I found, you did exceed And therefore have I slept in your report, Who is it that says most? which can say more Let him but copy what in you is writ, Not making worse what nature made so clear, You to your beauteous blessings add a curse, Being fond on praise, which makes your praises worse.-84. My tongue-tied muse in manners holds her still, And precious phrase by all the muses fil'd. I think good thoughts, while others write good words, To every hymn that able spirit affords, In polish'd form of well-refined pen. Hearing you prais'd, I say, ""T is so, 't is true," Was it the proud full sail of his great verse, |