And in lykewyse wythout abatment
I shall cause for to be memoryal
The famous actes so highe beneuolent
Of Graunde Amoure my knyght in speciall
Hys name shall dure and be eternall
For though his body be wrapt in claye
Yet his good fame shall remayne alwaye

And ryght anone she called Remembraunce
Commaundyng her ryght truely for to wryte
Both of myne actes and my gouernaunce
Whych than ryght sone began to endyte
Of my feates of armes, in a short respyte
Whose goodly stories, in tongues seuerall
About were sent, for to be perpetuall.

And thus I Fame, am euer magnified
When earth in earth, hath tane his estate
Thus after death, I am all glorified
What is he nowe, that can my power abate
Infinite I am, nothing can me mate
The spryng of honour, and of famous clarkes
My selfe I am, to renowne their warkes.

CAPITU. XLIIII.

And as dame Fame, was in laudation Into the temple, with marueylous likenes

Sodainely came Tyme, in breuiacion
Whose similitude, I shall anone expresse
Aged he was, wyth a bearde doubtles
Of swalowes feaders, his wynges were long
His body federed, he was hye and strong.

In his left hande, he had an horology
And in his ryght hande, a fyre brennyng
A swerde about him, gyrte full surely
His legges armed, clearely shynynge
And on his noddle, darkely flamyng
Was set Saturne, pale as any leade
And Jupiter, amiddes his foreheade.

In the mouthe Mars, and in his right winge
Was splendent Phebus, with his golden beames
And in his breast, there was replendishyng
The shinyng Venus, with depured streames
That all about, did cast her fyrye leames

In his left wynge Mercury, and aboue his waste
Was horned Dyane, her opposition past.

My name quod he, is in diuision
As time was, time is, and the time future
I maruaile muche, of the presumption
Of thee dame Fame, so puttyng in vre
Thy great praise, saiyng it shall endure
For to be infinite, euermore in prease
Seyng that I shall all thy honoure cease.

Shall not I Time, destroy bothe sea and lande
The sunne, and mone, and the starres all
By very reason, thou shalt vnderstande
At last shall lese, their course in generall
On time past, it vayleth not to call
Nowe by this horologe it dothe well appeare
That my last name, dothe euermore draw neare.

In my right hande, the great fire so feruent
Shall burne the time, and also minyshe
The fatall tongues, for it is accident
Unto me Time, all thinges to peryshe
When my laste ende, I shall accomplishe
And thus in vaine, thou hast thy laboure spent
When by me Time, thou shalt be so brent.

In eternitie, before the creation
Of aungell and man all thing was visible
In Goddes sight, as due probacion
Of his godheade, whiche is intelligible
To whom nothing, can be impossible
For in my selfe, a hye and sufficient
Before all thinges he was refulgent.

Unto whom onely, is apparaunce
Of my last ende, as mine origynall
Was in his sight, without doubtaunce
For onely of hym, it is especiall
The bye power, and godhead infinall
The future tence, to knowe dyrectly
Unto whom, it appeareth openly.

I am the lodestarre, to dame Eternitie
When man of earth, hath his creation
After the minute, of his natiuitie

He taketh then his operation,
Upon me Tyme, at euery season

In the same houre, the worlde was create
Originally, I toke mine estate.

Coulde the nine worthyes so vyctorious,
Do all their actes, without time or space
Tyme is a thing, bothe gaye and glorious
When it passeth, with vertue and grace
Man in this worlde hath a dwellyng place
Eyther hell or heauen, without leasyng
Alway he getteth, in his time spendyng.

Withouten tyme is no earthly thing
Nature, fortune, or yet dame Sapience
Hardines, cleargy, or yet learnyng
Past, future, or yet in presence
Wherfore I am, of more hye preeminence
As cause of fame, honoure and cleargy
They can nothing, without him magnify.

Do not I Time, cause nature to augment Do not I Time, cause nature to decay Do not I Time, cause man to be present Do not I Time, take his lyfe away

Do not I Time, cause death take his saye Do not I Tyme, passe his youth and age Do not I Time euery thing asswage.

In time, Troy the citye was edified
By tyme also, was the destroction
Nothing without tyme, can be fortified
No earthly ioye, nor tribulation
Without tyme, is for to suffer passion
The tyme of earth, was our destruction
And the tyme of earth, was our redemption
Adam of earth, sonne of virginitie
And Eue by God, of Adam create'
These two, the worlde dampned in certainetie
By disobedience, so foule and vycyate
And all other, then from them generate
Tyll peace, and mercy, made ryght to encline
Out of the Lyon, to enter the Vyrgyn.

Like as the worlde, was destroyed totally
By the vyrgyns sonne, so it semed well
A vyrgyns sonne, to redeme it pyteously
Whose hye Godheade, in the chosen vessell
Forty wekes, naturally did dwell
Nature wekes, naturally did God of kinde
In the virgyn, he did suche nature finde.

Thus without nature, nature wondersly
In a virgyn pure, openly hath wrought
To the God of nature, nothing truely
Impossible is, for he made of nought
Nature first, whiche naturyng hath taught
Naturately, right naturate to make

Why may not he then, the pure nature take.
By his Godheade, of the virgyn Mary
His elect mother, and arcke of testament
Of holy churche, the blessed luminary
After the birthe, of her sonne excellent
Virgyn she was, yet alway permanent
Disnullyng the sectes, of false ydolatry
And castyng downe, the fatall heresy.
Thus when I Tyme, in euery nacion
Raygned in rest, and also in peace
And Octauian, in his domination
Through the worlde, and the peopled preace
Letters had sent, his honoure to encrease

Of all the number, for to be certaine
For to obey him, vs their souerayne.

In whose time God toke his natiuitie

For to redeme vs, with his precious bloude From the deuils bonde, of great iniquitie His hart was perst, hangyng on the rode Was not this time, vnto man right good Shall not I Time, euermore abide

Tyll that in Libra, at the dreadefull tide

Of the day of dome, then in the balaunce
Almighty God, shall be iust and egall
To every person, withouten doubtaunce
Eche as they did deserue in generall
Some to haue ioye, some payne eternall
Then I am past, I may no lenger be
And after me, is dame Eternitie.

And thus as Tyme made his conclusion,
Eternitie in a fayre white vesture
To the temple came, with whole affection
And on her heade, a dyademe right pure
With thre crownes, of precious treasure
Eternitie she saied, I am nowe doubtles
Of heauen quene, and of hell empresse.

First God made heauen, his proper habitacle,
Though that his power, be in euery place
In eterne heauen, is his tabernacle
Time is there in no maner of case
Time renneth alway, his ende to embrace
Nowe I my selfe, shall haue no endyng
And my maker had no begynnyng.

In heauen and hell, I am continually
Withouten ende, to be in extinguissible
As euermore, to rayne full royally
Of euery thing, I am inuincible
Man of my power, shall be intelligible
When the soule, shall rise against the body
To haue iudgement, to liue eternally.

In heauen or hell, as he dothe deserue
Who that loueth God aboue euery thing
All his cōmaundementes he will then obserue
And spende his tyme, in vertuous liuyng
Idlenes wil euermore be eschuynge
Eternall ioye, he shall then attayne
After his laboure, and his busy payne

O mortall folke, reuole in your mynde
That worldly ioye, and frayle prosperitie

What is it like, but a blast of winde
For you therof, can haue no certaintie
It is nowe so full, of mutabilitie

Set not your mynde, vpon worldly wealth
But euermore, regarde your soules health.

When earth in earth, hath tane his corrupt taste
Then to repent, it is for you to late
When you haue time, spende it nothing in waste
Tyme past with vertue, must enter the gate
Of ioye and blysse, with mine hye estate
Without tyme, for to be euerlastyng
Whiche God graunt vs, at our last endyng

Nowe blessed lady of the health eternall
The quene of comfort, and of heauenly glory
Praye to thy swete sonne, whiche is infinal
To geue me grace, to winne the victory
Of the deuill, the worlde, and of my body
And that I may, my selfe well apply
Thy sonne and the, to laude and magnifie.

EXPLICIT. THE PASTIME OF PLEASURE.

THE EXCUSATION OF THE AUCTHOURE.
CAPIT. XLVI.

Unto all Poetas, I do me excuse

If that I offende, for lacke of science
This little boke, yet do ye not refuse
Though it be deuoyde, of famous eloquence
Adde or detray, by your hye sapience
And pardon me, of my hye enterprise
Whiche of late, this fable did fayne and deuise.

Go little boke, I pray God the saue
From misse metryng, by wrong impression
And who that euer, list the for to haue
That he perceyue, well thyne intencion
For to be grounded, wythout presumption
As for to eschue, the synne of ydlenes
To make such bokes, I apply my busines.

Besechyng God, for to geve me grace
Bokes to compyle, of morall vertue
Of my master Lidgate, to folowe the trace
His noble fame, for to laude and renue
Whiche in his lyfe, the slouthe did eschue
Makyng great bokes, to be in memory
On whose soule, I pray God haue mercy.

FINIS.

HENRY HOWARD, son of Thomas Earl of Surrey, and afterwards third Duke of Norfolk, is supposed to have been born either at Framlingham in Suffolk, or at Kenninghall, his grandfather's principal place of residence, in Norfolk. It had become the fashion in high life to give both sexes a learned education : that fashion was encouraged by Henry VIII., as it had been by his father; and some of the first and fairest fruits of it were seen in this most illustrious of the Howards. There is an unsupported tradition, but probable in itself, that he was placed at Wolsey's new College, in Oxford; and the fact that he was chosen High Steward of the other University affords strong presumption that he belonged to Cambridge. Before he was sixteen, however, his scholastic education was finished, and he was contracted to the Lady Frances Vere, daughter of John Earl of Oxford. That same year he was one of the nobles who accompanied Henry VIII. to his inter view with the French King at Boulogne; and at the coronation of Anne Boleyn he carried the fourth sword, with the scabbard, upright, before the King, as representative of his father-in-law, the Lord High Chamberlain. He lived in the closest intimacy with Henry's natural son, the Duke of Richmond, who was at that time betrothed to his only sister, the Lady Mary Howard, and some of his happiest days were past with this friend at Windsor.

That was an age in which a dear price was paid for pre-eminence in rank. Anne Boleyn was his kinswoman and his friend; yet Surrey was compelled to appear at her iniquitous trial, as representing his father in the character of Earl Marshal; the Duke in his own person presiding as Lord High Steward. He was one of the chief mourners at the funeral of Queen Jane, and one of the defendants in the jousts upon the marriage of Queen Anne of Cleves. Soon afterwards he was made Knight of the Garter. This was the season of his highest favour. It was followed by disgrace and imprisonment for having challenged John à Leigh, of Stockwell, upon a private quarrel. On his release he accompanied his father to the war in Scotland, and was present when Kelsal was burnt. He had then to answer before the Privy Council upon two charges: the one was for eating meat in Lent; the other for breaking windows in the streets of London with a cross-bow in the dead of night. For the first he pleaded a licence, but confessed that he had made use of it too publicly; for the second he made the strange excuse, that being shocked at the licentiousness of the citizens, he thought that by thus alarming them he might put them in mind of the suddenness of God's judgments, and so awaken them to repentance. Wyatt was one of his companions in this freak of fanaticism, and they were both committed to the Fleet for it.

Surrey is next found distinguishing himself at the siege of Landrecy. At that siege Bonner, who was afterwards so eminently infamous, invited Hadrian

Junius to England. When that distinguished scholar arrived, Bonner wanted either the means, or, more probably, the heart, to assist him; but Surrey took him into his family in the capacity of physician, and gave him a pension of fifty angels. About the same time he received Churchyard into his house; who was then a hopeful boy, and who in his old age bore grateful testimony to his benefactor's worth. In the campaign of 1544 he was Marshal of the Army, and with his father conducted the siege of Montreuil : there he was dangerously wounded in an attempt to take the place by storm; but recovered in time to cover the retreat, and so to prove that the failure of the siege has not been owing to any want of skill or courage on his part.

He had next the command at Guisnes, and then at Boulogne, from whence he was soon removed through the jealousy, as he believed, of Hertford (afterwards the Protector Seymour), to whom he was indebted for many ill offices; and for the resentment which he expressed with characteristic freedom, he was imprisoned in Windsor Castle. In August he was released, and apparently once more in favour; in December he was committed to the Tower, and brought to trial upon a preposterous charge of high treason, in which his father was involved. Hertford, who has crimes enough upon his head, is supposed to have sought his destruction in order to rid himself of a formidable enemy; and Surrey's only sister, the widow of his dearest friend-of that friend whose early loss he had continually regretted, - appeared as a voluntary witness, to take away the lives of her father and her brother! The Duke was saved by Henry's timely death; but Surrey, in the flower of his age, was beheaded a few days before that event took place; this judicial murder, (for not the shadow of a crime was proved against him,) being last of those acts by which the name of Henry VIII. has deservedly been rendered hateful.

It is said, that on the birth of his eldest son, the child's nativity was cast, and the scheme contained a prognostication of his own untimely death.

Few poets, who have written so little, have produced so great an effect upon the literature of their country. In this he resembles his contemporary Garcilaso, with whom he has other points of resemblance: but Garcilaso wrote in a language which was more formed; and though he affected the fashion of his country's poetry as much, was far from improving it in an equal degree. Surrey was the first English poet who wrote metrically; and the first who used blank verse, that verse which, for its peculiar and excellent adaptation to the English language, ought to be called the English measure. He wrote also the first English sonnets; and he used the ternal rhyme of Dante, a metre, by its solemn continuity, so suited to grave subjects, that some poet will surely one day make for himself a lasting reputation by worthily employing it.

DESCRIPTION OF

THE RESTLESS STATE OF A LOUER,

WITH SUTE TO HIS LADIE, TO RUE ON HIS DYING HART.

THE sunne hath twise brought forth his tender grene,
Twise clad the earth in liuely lustinesse;
Ones have the windes the trees dispoyled clene,
And ones again begins their cruelnesse,
Sins I haue hid under my brest the harme,
That neuer shal recouer healthfulnesse.
The winters hurt recouers with the warme :
The parched grene restored is with shade:
What warmth, alas! may serue for to disarme
The frosen hart, that mine in flame hath made?
What cold againe is able to restore

My fresh grene yeres, that wither thus and fade?
Alas! I se nothing hath hurt so sore,
But Time, in time, reduceth a returne :
In time my harme increaseth more and more,
And semes to haue my cure alwayes in scorne:
Strange kindes of death, in life that I do trie;
At hand to melt, farre off in flame to burne.
And lyke as time list to my cure apply,
So doth eche place my comfort cleane refuse.
Al thyng alive, that seeth the heauens with eye,
With cloke of night may couer, and excuse
It selfe from travaile of the dayes unrest,
Saue I, alas! against al others use,

That then stirre up the torments of my brest,
And curse eche sterre as causer of my fate.
And when the sunne hath eke the darke opprest,
And brought the day, it doth nothing abate
The trauailes of mine endlesse smart and paine;
For then as one that hath the light in hate,
I wish for night, more couertly to plaine;
And me withdraw from every haunted place,
Lest by my chere my chance appere to plaine:
And in my mynde I measure pace by pace,
To seke the place where I my self had lost,
That day that I was tangled in the lace,
In seming slack, that knitteth ever most.
But never yet the trauaile of my thought,
Of better state could catch a cause to bost:
For if I founde, some time that I have sought,
Those sterres by whom I trusted of the port,
My sailes do fall and I advance right nought;
As ankerd fast my spirites doe all resort
To stand agazed, and sink in more and more
The deadly harme which she doth take in sport.
Lo, if I seke, how do I finde my sore?
And yf I flee, I cary with me still

The venomd shaft, which doth his force restore
By haste of flight: And I may plaine my fill
Unto my self, unlesse this carefull song
Print in your hart some parcel of my tene
For I, alas! in silence all to long,

Of mine old hurt yet felt the wound but grene,
Rue on my life, or els your cruel wrong
Shall well appere, and by my deth be sene.

DESCRIPTION OF SPRING,

WHERIN ECHE THING RENEWES SAUE ONELY THE
LOVER.

THE SOOte season, that bud and blome forth brings,
With grene hath clad the hill, and eke the vale :
The nightingale with fethers new she sings:
The turtle to her mate hath told her tale:
Somer is come, for euery spray now springs:
The hart hath hong his old hed on the pale;
The buck in brake his winter coate he flings:
The fishes flete with new repaired scale:
The adder all her slough away she flings;
The swift swalow pursueth the flies smale
The busy bee her hony now she mings,
Winter is worne, that was the flowers bale.
And thus I se among these pleasant things
Eche care decayes; and yet my sorow springs.

;