Fifth Series,
Volume II.

No. 1510.- May 17, 1873.

From Beginning,




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Blackwood's Magazine,
II. THE PARISIANS. By Lord Lytton, author of

“ The Last Days of Pompeii," "My Novel,”
“ The Caxtons," etc. Part VIII.,

Blackwood's Magazine,
III. BYZANTINE ANATOLIA. By W. G. Palgrave,. Cornhill Magazine,
IV. INNOCENT: A Tale of Modern Life. By Mrs.

Oliphant, author of “Salem Chapel," “ The
Minister's Wife,” “Squire Arden,” etc.
Part III.,


Chambers' Journal,

Saturday Review,



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Feed me thus in righteousness
In life's howling wilderness;

And, when fainting by the way,
Deut. xxxiii. 25.

Let my strength be as my day.
PILGRIM on life's rugged road,
Tearful, fainting 'neath thy load,

O thou comfortless and tost,
On thy Lord thy burden roll;

In thy Lord and Saviour trust! He with strength renews thy soul :

Lo! the dayspring from on high Hath not Jesus said to thee,

Speaks thy great Deliverer nigh! "As thy day, thy strength shall be!”

Leave thy fatherless to me;

“As thy day, thy strength shall be!" In the bitterness of grief, Though thy prayer find no relief;

Oh! when Death with iron blow, Bowed, forsaken, and forlorn,

Strikes some dearly loved one low, Though thy sighs prevent the morn,

Vale of Shadows! though Despair Tarrying long, he comes at length,

Walk in awful silence there; To revive thy fainting strength!

Light in darkness thou may'st see;

"As thy day, thy strength shall be!"
Though thy Saviour long forbear,
He will hear his people's prayer!
What though He, when sorrowing sought,
Make as though he heard thee not?
Watch, and without ceasing pray,

That thy strength be as thy day.

WHERE floweth that full stream of life?

Tell us, that so our weary feet, When temptation cometh in,

Turned from life's pleasures, pains and strife, With a surging flood of sin,

May by its tide find rest complete;
And the burning billows swell
From the lowest deeps of hell;

Rest for the aching heart of grief,
O my Saviour! say to me,

Rest for the throbbing brow of pain, “As thy day, thy strength shall be! ”

From hopes that fade as fades the leaf
Some, distrustful of their Lord,

Beneath the autumn's chilling rain.
Fear to lean upon his Word;
One day, by the hand of Saul,

And on that brink may sorrow die,
They are fearful they shall fall!

And sin forget its dark dismay, Still that word is sweet to me,

Knowing those waters passing by, “As thy day, thy strength shall be.” Through fields of heavenly verdure stray. What though his approach be late? Thou Angel, who for man of old It is good on God to wait :

The spring of healing waters stirred, He will prove his promise true,

Lead us where ceaselessly hath rolled By his gifts, not small, nor few;

The flood whose voice no man hath heard His salvation thou shalt see, “As thy day, thy strength shall be.” O river, making glad the land

By angel feet in glory trod, When wild winds thy vessel sweep

Bear us, still guided by His hand,
O'er the dreary, boisterous deep,

To the fair city of our God!
And thy prostrate strength shall fail
As she drives before the gale,
Then cry mightily, and say,
“Let my strength be as my day!”

PETRARCH'S SIXTIETH SONNET. Dark may be the midnight hour,

I am so weary with the burden old With Death's shadow covered o'er; Of foregone thoughts and powers of custom Yet, how drear so e'er the night,

base, God hath said, “ Let there be light!” That much I fear to perish from the ways Jesus can, if thou wilt pray,

And fall into mine enemy's grim hold. Turn thy darkness into day.

mighty friend to free me, though self-sold,

Came of His own ineffable high grace, Art thou tempted oft to say,

Then went, and from my vision took His face. God with thorns hath hedged my way! Him now in vain I weary to behold, Dost thou sit alone and weep,

But still his voice seems echoing below:Doth thy heart sad vigils keep?

Oye that labor, see! here is the gate! Weeping may endure a night;

Come unto me, the way

all open lies!” Joy shall come with morning light. What heavenly grace will - - what love -- or

what fate As Thy people once were fed,

The glad wings of a dove on me bestow, With the heaven-descended bread, That I may rest, and from the earth arise.

From Blackwood's Magazine. bler's — hath not the master, without catSHAKESPEARE'S FUNERAL.

aloguing one of these things, implied all, Place. — STRATFORD-ON-AVON. Time. The in half-a-score of pregnant words, for all 25TH OF APRIL 1616.

the future ? What a skill is that can make SCENE I. The Taproom of the Falcon Tavern a poor sot immortal ! in the High Street, kept by Eleanor Comyng.

Sly. Sot, saidst thou ! - but I care not. Hostess and Sly.



stand me, gentles, in a pot of ale ? Hostess. Kit Sly, Kit Sly, dost thou Raleigh. Wilt thou answer, then, a few hear? There be guests alighting in the questions I would put to thee ? yard; run thou and help Robin ostler

Sly. Ay - but the ale first; and be hold their stirrups, and so do somewhat brief ; I love not much question. Say on, for the ale thou ne'er pay'st for.

and let the world slide. Sly. If I do, wilt thou let this one day

Raleigh. A pot of ale, drawer, for this slip without rating and prating of thy score worthy man. And now tell me, Sly, is't that I owe thee ?

not thy custom to use that phrase“ let the Hostess. Yea, good Kit, if thou run world slide"?* quickly.

Sly. It may well be ; 'tis a maxim I Sly. But wilt thou bid Francis draw me love; 'tis a cure for much. I am cold what ale I may chance call for ?

let the world slide, for anon I shall be Hostess. Nay, that will I not, or thou

warmer. I am dry – let the world slide, wouldst empty my great tun. Thou

for time will bring ale. I sit, pottle-pot wouldst serve me as thou didst the ale- in hand, i' the chimney-nook — let the wife of Wincot, * who says, poor soul, that world slide while I taste it. she ne'er had cask in cellar these twelve

Drayton. 'Tis a pretty philosophy, and years but thou wert more fatal to it than might serve for greater uses. But, for a a leaking tap. By these ears, I heard her further question — Wert thou acquainted say so when the deputy's men were seiz- with old John Naps of Greece ? + ing her goods. Thou shalt not cozen me

Sly. John Naps, quotha! what, old as thou didst Marian.

John ! by Jeronimy, I knew him many a Sly. Hold stirrup thyself, then. I'll not year, mended his pots and helped him budge. I'll to sleep again by the chimney empty them. 'A had been a sailor, or to till it please God send me drink.

say pirate would be to shoot nearer the Enter DRAYTON † (the poet) and YOUNG RA- clout ; when sober his fashion was to say LEIGH I (son of Sir Walter).

nought, but when drunk his talk was of Drayton. Sly, said she! Didst thou the things 'a had seen in Greece — wherenot hear, Walter, yon valet's name? but by they called him Naps of Greece. 'twas scarce needful. The sodden face, Drayton. And didst thou know, too, the shaken nether lip, the eye watery and Peter Turf and Henry Pimpernell ? impudent, the paunch ale-swelled, the Sly. Yea, as this pot handle knows doublet liquor-stained, the hat crushed these fingers. For Turf, he was deputyfrom being much slept in, the apparel sexton of Wincot, and indeed digged ruinous, because the tapster intercepts the Naps' grave, and was found lying drunk fee that should be the tailor's and the cob- therein, with his spade beside him, at the

hour of burial. For Pimpernell, 'twas a “ Ask Marian Hacket, the fat ale-wife of Wincot, half-witted companion, but his grandam if she know me not," says Kit Sly in the “ Taming of the Shrew.” Wincot is a village about three miles from kept money in 's purse, and 'a served to

pay scores, and ’a could join in a catch on † Michael Drayton, a Warwickshire poet of great repute in his day, was about a year older than Shakespeare, and had known him long and familiarly.

* A phrase much affected by Sly the Tinker in the Young Walter Raleigh was Sir Walter's eldest son, prelude to the “Taming of the Shrew.” and was now twenty-two years old. He accompanied † One of Sly's acquaintances at Wincot. his father, soon after, to South America, as commander

“Stephen Sly, and Old John Naps of Greece, of one of the companies that formed the military part And Peter Turf and Henry Pimpernell.” of the expedition, to prepare for which was the express

“ Taming of the Shrew." condition on which Sir Walter was released from the A manuscript memorandum, in which Stephen Sly is Tower in January 1616.

mentioned, written at Stratford in 1614, is still extant.


occasion, thof ’a had but a small, cracked twilight. The radiant intellect is gone, voice, and mostly sung his part to psalm- and hath left but its pale reflection in his tunes. And, now, masters, a question to works - tho' these shall be immortal. ye

- an ye answer not, faith I care not Methinks, in future, the sky will be less but how should such as ye know Naps blue, the air less warm, the flowers less and the others ?

gay; for I honoured this man more than Drayton. They have been recorded, any, and whate'er I essayed to do 'twas and thou too, in what will outlast your with a secret thought of his judgment epitaphs. Doubtless thou hast heard over me, as if he had been the conscience of Master William Shakespeare of New of mine intellect. Place.*

Hostess. Ye look pale

a cup of sack, Sly. Heard of him, said he ! Ay, and sweet sirs; for, ye know, a cheerful cup seen him and talked with him both here the heart bears up. and at Wincot when he came thither to Drayton. Nay, woman, nay. his kinsfolk.t By this malt-juice, a merry

Hostess. 'Tis of the best, I warrant you; gentleman, and a free — 'a should have l’tis from the stores of Master Quiney been a lord, for, look you, to bestow liq- him that hath married Master Shakeuor on the thirsty is a lordly fashion, and speare's daughter Judith, and he deals in I have owed him many a skinful. Marry, none but the best. that tap's dry now.

Drayton. 'Tis not sack that will help us. Drayton. What, knave, hath he found But canst thou tell us, good hostess, aught at last that it is more virtuous to forget concerning his end ? thee than to countenance thee?

Hostess. Yea, well-a-day, that can I, Sly. Nay, I will say nought in his dis- for 'twas Gossip Joan Tisick who goeth praise ; 'a was good to me, and hath oft out nursing, the same your worships, that spoke with me, and I'll ne'er deny it now's brought young Elizabeth Hall, his granddead and gone. Mayhap ye have come to child, into the world, that was sent for to the burial ?

him when 'twas seen which way 'a was Drayton. Dead !

likely to go; whereby, she told me thereof Raleigh. Master Shakespeare dead ! yesternight over a cup of ale and sugar

Hostess. Oh, masters, he hath spoke the with a toasted crab in 't - for, said she, truth, tho' he be no true man ; by these there's none in Stratford, Mistress Comtears, he hath. Master Shakespeare part- yng, that Master Shakespeare thought ed 'o Tuesday, and he will be buried this more on than you. The doctor, Master dientical day; the coffin will be brought Hall, says to her, “ Have a care, Joan, of forth of New Place upon the stroke of my father-in-law Shakespeare, says he ; two. I have talked with the bearers, and for 'tis a parlous case, says he ; we be all all.

mortal, says he — and the breath goeth Raleigh. Thus perish the hopes which when it listeth — therefore keep thou the drew me to Stratford. I thought to look better watch, for 'tis a man we could ill on the foremost poet of the world — to spare." “ Fear not, Master Hall," quoth hear his voice — perchance to be hon- Joan, “ I'll tend him an 'twere his mother.” oured with some discourse of him — and So, o' Tuesday night he said he felt easi. now I shall look but on his coffin. Oh, er, and he bid Mistress Hall and the DocMaster Drayton !

tor that they should leave him and take Drayton. We looked not, indeed, for good rest. And 'a says to Joan, “Art this. 'Tis as if the sun were drawn from drowsy, good Joan ?” Whereupon she the firmament, and had left us to perpetual made answer “A little ; for I have been

up,” saith she, “all last night at a labour New Place was a large house, with garden attached, with Mistress Coney her thirteenth child." in the town of Stratford — built by Sir Hugh Clopton in " Ay," quoth he, “in thy calling thou Henry VII.'s time, and purchased by Shakespeare in seest both ends of life; well, thou shalt + The Ardens, Shakespeare's relations by the mother's sleep to-night, and all night if thou wilt.” side, lived in the parish of Wincot.

“Nay, sir," saith Joan, “not so; but your


worship being of so good cheer to-night, solaced mine enforced solitude in the mayhap if I take a short nap 'twill do no Tower with studying all of his works that harm.” “If thou take a long one, good have been given to us; and entreat him, Joan,” said Master Shakespeare, “it mat- in my name, not to leave those plays of his ters not, for, I warrant you, I shall take a to the chances of the world, as fathers longer.” “ It doth me good to hear your leave their misbegotten children, but to worship speak so," says Joan, “ for sleep make them truly the heirs of his invention, well is keep well, and a night's rest and to spend on them that paternal care physic's best” — and so tucks up the bed which shall prove them worthy of their clothes, and draws the hangings, and source. leaves him as 'a was closing his eyes. Hostess. Please you come in here to the Well, sweet sirs, all the night he lay quiet, Dolphin chamber, where Master Shakeand with the dawn Joan peeps me in speare loved to sit. through the curtains, and there he lay, Raleigh. Well — now we are in it, I find quiet and smiling - and as the sun rose it convenient and well-lighted; and yet she peeps me in again and he was still methinks 'tis but a small one. quiet and smiling and she touched his Drayton. Ay, but seest thou that, forehead ; — and he had been lying for through the door, one that sits here can hours (so the doctor said when Joan called mark the whole company of ale-drinkers him) as dead as his grandam.

in the tap-room without, and therefore Drayton. 'Twas, then, with good heart Shakespeare loved it; here would he sit that this great soul passed to what himself and note the humours of such guests as hath called the undiscovered country: of yonder Sly. For in such, he would say, whose inhabitants he must sure take his you see humanity with its vizard off ; and place among the most illustrious. Thou he held that nurture, though it oft cherart sad, Walter — this grief touches thee, ishes a good apprehension, yet as oft doth and, sooth, it becomes thee well. It be- overlay and smother it. He hath said to speaks thy youth generous ; 'tis an assur-me, pointing to the company without, “ If ance that thou hast thy father's spirit, you find wit here 'tis the bird's own feathwho, great himself, owns near kinship er, and no borrowed plume ; if you see with greatness, and will sorrow for Shake- courtesy 'tis inborn, and will bear the rub; speare as for a brother.

if you note a quaint humour 'tis in the Raleigh. 'Twas my father's wish, when man by the grace of God or the force of he knew I was to be thy guest in War- circumstance, your weaver or your tinwickshire, that I should pay my duty to ker, whatsoever other gift he hath, hath Master Shakespeare, for, said he, there is not the skill to counterfeit, for that comes no worthier thing in life, than to take note by art, and leisure, and commerce with of the greatest of thy companions in earth's men of condition, and desire of their good pilgrimage ; in them thou seest the quin- opinion ; wherefore methinks I oft see tessence of man's spirit, cleared of the deeper through your leathern jerkin than muddy vapours which make common hu- your satin doublet.” manity so base and foolish : and this man Hostess. Yea, here would 'a come many is of the greatest, a companion indeed for a time and oft, with Master Ben, that was princes, nay, himself a king, whose king- full of quips as as egg of meat. dom is of the imagination, and therefore tress Quickly!” Ben would say (for so 'a boundless. Tell him, Walter, said my fa- called me, I know not wherefore), “ set us ther, that in my long captivity * I have oft in the Dolphin chamber ; * and let us remembered our pleasant encounters at have a sea-coal fire,” 'a would say the Mermaid ; t tell him, too, that I have “and I will drink none if thou give me

not a parcel-gilt goblet,” whereby Master

“ Mis

The twelve years' imprisonment in the Tower to club, of which Shakespeare, Ben Jonson, Beaumont, which James I. had consigned him.

Fletcher and others were members. 1 The Mermaid was a tavern in London where Sir * For the allusions here made by Master Ben, see the Walter had established, before his imprisonment, a “ Second Part of King Henry IV.," act ii. sc. I.

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