greater poets had extinguished his early popularity, or, as he expresses it himself, that he had outlived the date Of former grace, acceptance, and delight, he retired to a farm in Somersetshire, where he died in 1619. In addition to his poems and plays, Daniel wrote a History of England, which he carried down to the end of the reign of Edward III. His reputation as a poet rests chiefly on the ponderous cantos of the Civil Wars, a poem now little read, although it occupies a place of some mark in our literature. At the close of his career, when he was relinquishing a Muse that no longer smiled upon his labours, he appears to have formed a very accurate estimate of the qualities to which he was indebted for his success : And I, although among the latter train, And least of those that sung unto this land, To virtue and the time.-Dedication of Philotas. The great defect of his poetry is want of imagination, which his naturally languid constitution was unable to remedy by vigour or boldness of treatment. He always writes with good sense; and his diction, which seldom rises above the level of prose, is generally pure and appropriate. But his narrative is lifeless and tedious, and fails to sustain the attention. He is more successful in his smaller pieces, where neatness and delicacy of expression make a distinct impression, and atone for the absence of higher qualities. It has been said by some of his critics that he anticipated the improvements of a more refined age, because he wrote with a perspicuity and directness not common amongst his contemporaries. But these merits are not in themselves sufficient to project a poet beyond his own time; a truth strikingly illustrated in his case. He lived in an age that produced the noblest examples of English poetry, and he has not survived it either in the closet or on the stage. His plays are planned strictly on the classical model, which he lacked the power to fill up. Deficient in the essential of action, and didactic rather than dramatic, they are for the most part very flat and dreary. The tragedy of Cleopatra, his first play, from which the following piece is taken, may, perhaps, be considered the best of them.] THE INFLUENCE OF OPINION. OPINION, how dost thou molest The affected mind of restless man? To draw him still from thought to thought: O malcontent seducing guest, Or what thou in conceit designest; For what thou hast, thou still dost lack: If we unto ambition tend, Then dost thou draw our weakness on, Of that which never had an end. How dost that pleasant plague infest? This Anthony can say is true, That feeds upon the heart of pride, And what a shame it were to live, This is that rest this vain world lends, DABRIDGECOURT BELCHIER. 15- 1621. [THE author of Hans Beer-Pot's Invisible Comedy was a Northamptonshire gentleman, who, after completing his education at Cambridge and Oxford, settled at Utrecht, where he died in 1621. In his dedication to Sir John Ogle, governor of the town and garrison of Utrecht, he describes the play as being neither comedy nor tragedy, but a plain dialogue, or conference, between certain persons, consisting of three acts and no more. No division into acts, however, appears in the only edition of this curious piece that is known to exist. The title-page informs us that it was acted in the Low Countries by an honest company of health-drinkers,' and was printed in London in 1618. Coxeter speaks of it as a translation [by inference from the Dutch]; but it is distinctly described in the dedication as an original production, that cost the author 'not above sixteen days' labour.' It is written with considerable humour, and displays such ease and mastery of versification as to occasion regret that he who possessed so quaint and fluent a vein should not have given his powers more ample employment.] HANS BEER-POT, HIS INVISIBLE COMEDY OF SEE ME AND SEE ME NOT. 1618. THE CONFESSION. WALKING in a shady grove, Near silver streams fair gliding, Where trees in ranks did grace the banks, And nymphs had their abiding; Here as I stayed I saw a maid, A beauteous lovely creature, With angel's face and goddess grace, Of such exceeding feature. Her looks did so astonish me, And in a stranger taking. Yet roused myself to see this elf, Where I unseen beheld this queen Her voice was sweet melodiously, She sung in perfect measure; And thus she said with trickling tears; 'Alas, my joy, my treasure, I'll be thy wife, or lose my life, There's no man else shall have me; If God so, I will say no, Although a thousand crave me. 'Oh! stay not long, but come, my dear, And knit our marriage knot; Each hour a day, each month a year, Thou knowest, I think, God wot. Delay not then, like worldly maiden, |