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SIR THOMAS WIAT,

was born at Allington Castle, Kent, in the year 1503.

He was entered of St. John's College, Cambridge, in 1515, and took his degree of Bachelor of Arts, in 1518, and Master of Arts in 1520. Shortly afterwards he married Eiizabeth, daughter of Thomas Brooke, Lord Cobham. His personal accomplishments recommended him to the favour of Henry the Eighth, who frequently employed him on foreign missions. He lost the confidence of Henry on suspicion of too strong an attachment to the hapless Anne Boleyn, though but for a time, as we find that he received the honour of knighthood on Easter Day, the 16th of April, 1536. Wiat died early of a malignant fever, at Sherborne, on his way to Falmouth, at the command of Henry, to meet Ambassadors from Charles the Fifth. An intimate friend, living in the neighbourhood of that town, hastened to him, but his kindness proved unavailing. After lingering a few days, his constitution gave way, and he expired on the 10th or 11th of October, 1542, in his thirty-ninth year. He was buried in the family vault of the same friend, whose name was Horsey, in the great church of Sherborne, but no inscription marks the place of his interment.

Of the object of the productions of Sir Thomas Wiat's muse, little can be advanced with certainty. Many of his poems are thought to have been addressed to the unfortunate Anna Boleyn, who has been supposed to have been the object of an attachment on his part, but with what degree of truth is doubtful. In that chivalrous age a beautiful and unfortunate woman could not fail to excite the strongest admiration and compassion, and Sir Thomas Wiat's feelings may have been of this character. There are, however, some of his poems, which, if the supposition that they referred to Anna Boleyn, be correct, are sufficient to warrant the idea that some feeling warmer than pity animated the bosom of the gallant knight. In one little poem, he speaks of his love called Anna; and two of his sonnets are generally considered to allude to his royal mistress. Of the one commencing

"Whoso list to hunt? I know where is an hind!"

she is evidently the subject. The manner, however, in which he there speaks of her, has been stated to be quite inconsistent with the feelings of a lover. In answer to this, it may be observed, that as in the heading of it, he renounces his relinquishment of the pursuit of the lady's favour, it may have been but a tone of playfulness, assumed to conceal deeper feelings than could with safety have been avowed, in the relative position of the parties, even under the garb of poetry, the common vehicle of gallantry in those days. The other sonnet, an exhortation, wherein "The lover unhappy biddeth happy lovers rejoice in May, while He waileth that month to him most unlucky," is supposed to refer to the unfortunate queen having suffered in that month, in consequence of accusations, in which an attempt was certainly made to implicate Wiat.

B

THE longe love that in my thoughte I harboure,
And in my hearte doth keepe his residence,
Into my face presseth with bolde pretence,
And there campeth displaying his banner.
She that me learnes to love and to suffer,
And wills that my truste, and love's negligence
Be reined by reasone, shame, and reverence,
With his hardiness takes displeasure.
Wherewith love to the heart's forest he fleeth,
Leaving his enterprize with paine and cry,
And there him hideth, and not appeareth.
What may I do, when my master feareth,
But in the fielde with him to live and die?
For goode is the life, ending faithfully.

YET was I never of your love aggrieved,
Nor never shall while that my life doth laste :
But of hating myself, that date is past;
And teares continual sore have me wearied:
I will not yet in my grave be buried;
Nor on my tombe your name have fixed faste,
As cruel cause, that did the spirit soon haste
From the unhappy bones, by greate sighs stirred.
Then if a heart of amorous faith and will

Contente your minde withouten doing grief;
Please it you so to this to do relief:

If otherwise you seeke for to fulfil

Your wrathe, you err, and shall not as you ween; And you yourself the cause thereof have beene.

THE lively sparkes that issue from those eyes,
Against the which there vaileth no defence,
Have pierced my hearte, and done it no offence,
With quaking pleasure more than once or twice.
Was never man coulde any thinge devise,
Sunbeams to turn with so greate vehemence
To daze man's sighte, as by their brighte presence
Dazed am I; much like unto the guise
Of one stricken with dinte of lightning,

Blinde with the stroke, and crying here and there;
So calle I for helpe, I note when nor where,
The paine of my falle patiently bearing;

For straighte after the blaze, as is no wonder,
Of deadly noise hear I the fearful thunder.

SUCH vaine thought as wonted to misleade me,
In deserte hope, by well assured moane,
Makes me from company to live alone,
In following her whom reasone bids me flee.
And after her my hearte woulde fain be gone,
But armed sighs my way do stop anon,
'Twixt hope and dreade locking my liberty;
So fleeth she by gentle cruelty.

Yet as I guess, under disdainful brow

One beame of ruth is in her cloudy looke:

Which comfortes the minde, that erste for feare shooke;

That bolded the way straighte; then seeke I how

To utter forthe the smarte I bide within :

But suche it is, I note how to beginne.

HAPPY LOVERS REJOICE IN MAY WHILE HE WAILETH THAT

MONTH TO HIM MOST UNLUCKY.

YE that in love finde lucke and sweete abundance,

And live in love of joyful jollity,

Arise for shame, do way our sluggardy:
Arise, I say, doe May some observance.
Let me in bed lie dreaming in mischance;
Let me remember my mishaps unhappy,
That me betide in May moste commonly;
As one whom love liste little to advance.
Stephan saide true, that my nativity
Mischanced was with the ruler of May.
He guessed (I prove) of that the verity.
In May my wealthe, and eke my wits, I say,
Have stonde so oft in suche perplexity:
Joy; let me dreame of youre felicity.

CONFESSION OF LOVE TO PHYLLIS.

If waker care; if suddene pale coloure ;
If many sighes with little speeche to plaine :
Now joy, now woe, if they my cheere distaine;
For hope of smalle, if muche to feare therefore;
To haste or slacke, my pace to less or more;
Be signe of love, then doe I love againe.
If thou aske whom; sure, since I did refraine
Brunet, that set my wealthe in such a roare,
Th' unfeigned cheere of Phyllis hath the place
That Brunet had; she hath, and ever shall.
She from myselfe now hath me in her grace;
She hathe in hande my wit, my wille, and alle.
My hearte alone well worthy she doth stay,
Without whose helpe scante doe I live a day.

THE LOVER PERISHETH IN HIS DELIGHT AS THE FLY IN THE

FIRE.

SOME birdes there be that have so perfecte sighte,
Againste the sun their eyes for to defende;
And some, because the lighte doth them offende,
Never appeare but in the darke or night;
Other rejoice to see the fire so brighte,
And ween to play in it, as they pretende,
But finde contrary of it, that they intend.
Alas! of that sorte may I be by righte;
For to withstande her looke I am not able;
Yet can I not hide me in no darke place;
So followeth me remembrance of that face,
That with my tearye-eyen, swoln and unstable,
My destiny to beholde her doth me leade,
And yet I knowe I run into the gleade.

BECAUSE I still kepte thee fro' lies and blame,
And to my power alwaies thee honoured,
Unkinde tongue! to ill hast thou me rendered,
For such deserte to do me wreke and shame.
In neede of succoure most when that I am,
To aske reward, thou standest like one afraide :
Alwaie moste colde, and if one worde be saide,
As in a dreame, imperfecte is the same.
And ye salte teares, againste my will eache nighte
That are with me, when I woulde be alone;
Then are ye gone when I should make my moane:
And ye so ready sighes to make me shright,

Then are ye slacke when that ye shoulde outstarte;
And only doth my looke declare my hearte.

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