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For sweetest things turn sourest by their deeds;
Lilies that fester, smell far worse than weeds.

For we, that now behold these present days,
Have eyes to wonder, but lack tongues to praise.

But thence I learn, and find the lesson true,
Drugs poison him, that so feel sick of you.

Him have I lost; thou hast both him and me;
He plays the whole, and yet I am not free.

For I have sworn thee fair; more perjured I,
To swear, against the truth, so foul a lie.

Come there for cure, and this by that I prove
Love's fire heats water, water cools not love.

Blessed are you, whose worthiness gives scope
Being had, to triumph, being lacked, to hope."

After these specimens, to which I could add a thousand others, Johnson's talk about the rude state of English versification before the time of Waller and Pope is worse than foolish. It was disgraceful in a writer who set himself up as the historian of poetry and poets, to pass over the age of Shakespeare in the way he has done.

I have as yet confined myself to a consideration of their poetical merit, but though I do not propose to enter fully into the question at present, I cannot help subjoining a few passages to support Schlegel's position, that much of the poet's personal history and private feelings is revealed in these condemned and neglected sonnets.

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The following lines contain an affecting allusion to his profesan actor, an acknowledgment of his follies, which he no doubt rightly attributes to the influence of his unfortunate circumstances, and an intimation of profound repentance. Pope has observed that "Shakespeare was obliged to please the lowest

of the people, and to keep the worst of company." Chalmers replies to this, that we have nothing but Pope's conjecture on the subject. Now, if Chalmers had only judged for himself, and had not turned from Shakespeare's poems with disdain, because they were not good enough for Mr. Steevens*, he might have met with the ensuing passage, which would have convinced him that Pope was correct in his assertion.

"O, for my sake do you with fortune chide,
The guilty goddess for my harmful deeds,
That did not better for my life provide,

Than public means, which public manners breeds:
Thence comes it that my name receives a brand,
And almost thence my nature is subdued

To what it works in like the dyer's hand."

It has been erroneously asserted by many writers on Shakespeare, that he was not conscious of his mighty faculties, and had no anticipation of his future fame. There are numerous passages, that are characterised by a glorious egotism and self-confidence. The following lines bear unanswerably on the point.

"Nor shall Death brag thou wanderest in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou growest:

So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,

So long lives this, and this gives life to thee."

* A very popular author, distinguished for his knowledge of literary history, has done me the honor to read the first edition of this work, and in an interesting and most obliging private letter, communicates the following characteristic notice of Steevens :

"These sonnets have had a singular fate since Steevens declared that nothing short of an act of Parliament was necessary to compel us to read them, and he boldly as impudently rejected them from the works of Shakespeare. As Steevens was not deficient in critical judgment, and was a malicious wag, whenever he had his friend and rival Malone in view, this false and ridiculous decision may have been only one of the many unfair tricks or traps which he laid to catch his brother commentator. Boswell told me of several which had only originated in this mischievous Puck, who when he had beguiled some innocent into the mire, always screamed in laughter."

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And let me add one more example.

Not marble nor the gilded monuments

Of princes shall outlive this powerful rhyme.”

Some of the sonnets, however, that appear to have been written in his youth, and before he had gained his reputation, are as full of graceful humility and a reverential regard for others, as his later productions are of a just and noble confidence in his own pretensions.

"If thou survive my well contented day,

When that churl death my bones with dust shall cover,
And shalt by fortune once more re-survey
These poor rude lines of thy deceased lover;
Compare them with the bettering of the time,
And though they be outstripped by every pen,
Reserve them for my love, not for their rhyme,
Exceeded by the height of happier men.”

"O! how I faint when I of you do write,

Knowing a better spirit doth use your name."

This "better spirit" is supposed by some to be Spenser; but though Spenser is also alluded to by name in the Passionate Pilgrim, and with great praise," the better spirit" is thought by other critics, and not without reason, to be Daniel, who had then a high reputation.

Leigh Hunt thinks that we may gather from the sonnets that Shakespeare was lame*. I suppose he alludes to the following passage, but it is perhaps doubtful whether it should be interpreted literally or not.

“As a decrepit father takes delight

To see his active child do deeds of youth,
So I, made lame by fortune's dearest spite,
Take all my comfort of thy worth and truth;
For whether beauty, birth, or wealth or wit,

It is strange how many poets have been lame-Tyrtaus-ShakespeareAkenside-Darwin-Anna Seward-Scott-Byron-Pringle, &c. &c.

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of the people, and to keep the worst of company." Chalmers replies to this, that we have nothing but Pope's conjecture on the subject. Now, if Chalmers had only judged for himself, and had not turned from Shakespeare's poems with disdain, because they were not good enough for Mr. Steevens*, he might have met with the ensuing passage, which would have convinced him that Pope was correct in his assertion.

"O, for my sake do you with fortune chide,
The guilty goddess for my harmful deeds,
That did not better for my life provide,

Than public means, which public manners breeds:
Thence comes it that my name receives a brand,
And almost thence my nature is subdued

To what it works in like the dyer's hand."

It has been erroneously asserted by many writers on Shakespeare, that he was not conscious of his mighty faculties, and had no anticipation of his future fame. There are numerous passages, that are characterised by a glorious egotism and self-confidence. The following lines bear unanswerably on the point.

"Nor shall Death brag thou wanderest in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou growest:

So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,

So long lives this, and this gives life to thee."

* A very popular author, distinguished for his knowledge of literary history, has done me the honor to read the first edition of this work, and in an interesting and most obliging private letter, communicates the following characteristic notice of Steevens :

"These sonnets have had a singular fate since Steevens declared that nothing short of an act of Parliament was necessary to compel us to read them, and he boldly as impudently rejected them from the works of Shakespeare. As Steevens was not deficient in critical judgment, and was a malicious wag, whenever he had his friend and rival Malone in view, this false and ridiculous decision may have been only one of the many unfair tricks or traps which he laid to catch his brother commentator. Boswell told me of several which had only originated in this mischievous Puck, who when he had beguiled some innocent into the mire, always screamed in laughter."

And let me add one more example.

"Not marble nor the gilded monuments

Of princes shall outlive this powerful rhyme."

Some of the sonnets, however, that appear to have been written in his youth, and before he had gained his reputation, are as full of graceful humility and a reverential regard for others, as his later productions are of a just and noble confidence in his own pretensions.

"If thou survive my well contented day,

When that churl death my bones with dust shall cover,
And shalt by fortune once more re-survey
These poor rude lines of thy deceased lover;
Compare them with the bettering of the time,
And though they be outstripped by every pen,
Reserve them for my love, not for their rhyme,
Exceeded by the height of happier men."

"O! how I faint when I of you do write,

Knowing a better spirit doth use your name."

This "better spirit" is supposed by some to be Spenser; but though Spenser is also alluded to by name in the Passionate Pilgrim, and with great praise," the better spirit" is thought by other critics, and not without reason, to be Daniel, who had then a high reputation.

Leigh Hunt thinks that we may gather from the sonnets that Shakespeare was lame*. I suppose he alludes to the following passage, but it is perhaps doubtful whether it should be interpreted literally or not.

"As a decrepit father takes delight

To see his active child do deeds of youth,
So I, made lame by fortune's dearest spite,
Take all my comfort of thy worth and truth;
For whether beauty, birth, or wealth or wit,

It is strange how many poets have been lame-Tyrtæus-Shakespeare-Akenside-Darwin-Anna Seward-Scott-Byron-Pringle, &c. &c.

D

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