Whether the author of the laborious essay, of which we have here given but a part, was Gabriel Harvey, or Spenser himself, or some person who is destined to remain unknown, these were certainly the sentiments of the poet. He was an amateur in language. He studied it artistically, with a view to the perfecting of his poetry, as a painter acquaints himself with the mode of preparing his colors, that he may use them to better advantage. Our only apology for venturing to touch what is thus hallowed, is the desire for a more general appreciation of the author. Words that are "like apples of gold in pictures of silver," must not remain enclosed in a curious ancient casket, inaccessible without a key. The riches of Spenser belong now to all who speak the English tongue, and we are induced to offer a peep, by the hope that our readers will be seized with a miser's eagerness to possess themselves of the whole.

mazes.

As to the allegory, it is indeed of such intricacy that even the learned in criticism have failed to find a competent clue to its But the peculiar merits of the poem have, in truth, little or nothing to do with the allegory. If we might offer a little practical advice, it would be to read the Faëry Queen first without any of those attempts at explanation which are apt to chill one's natural pleasure; to become thoroughly familiar with the poetry, as such; and afterwards to seek a new form of enjoyment in research and ingenious conjecture, for which a wide field of verification is open in the mass of writings of authors of the time, and mountains of commentary piled up since. Everybody has heard Hazlitt's saying about the Faëry Queen, that "some persons look at the allegory as if they thought it would bite them

-as a child looks at a painted dragon, and thinks it will strangle him in its shining folds. This is very idle. If they do not meddle with the allegory, the allegory will not meddle with them. Without minding it, the whole is as plain as a pike-staff.” This is as true as it is plain-spoken; yet, for the benefit of those

who may still doubt, we must endeavor to give a slight sketch of the plan of the Faëry Queen.

In the first place, the scene of the poem is independent of all time and space. The poet creates, not only his characters, but the very ground they stand on. He has nothing to do with either History or Geography; the whole world of imagination is his theatre of action.* So absolute is his power, and so comprehensive his skill, that he takes his readers with him, and makes them creators too. They must see with his mind's eye, and imbibe some touch of his spirit, before they are capable of accompanying him; but when once the relation is established, he carries them away irresistibly, like a true enchanter.

The Red Cross Knight is presented in the poem as " Holiness," or the perfection 'of the spiritual man in religion. He is accompanied and excited to good deeds by Una or Truth—one of the loveliest of all poetic creations-whose voice encourages him to the extirpation of Error, a hideous monster with brood innumerable. He defeats "Sansfoy," or Faithless, yet falls for a time into the snares of Duessa-Deceit or Doubleness. He is betrayed into the castle of Orgoglio, or Pride (Orgueil, Fr.). Archimago or Hypocrisy, the enchanter, is the instrument of Deceit, and does her bidding. Arthur, or Magnanimity, the knight by whose lofty and disinterested daring the Red Cross Knight is liberated, is the personification of the spirit and essence of pure chivalry, whose duty it was to redress all wrongs whatsoever, without fee or reward, save the proud consciousness of high desert. Gloriana, who is often mentioned throughout the poem, is the Glory sought by every true knight, and she is also, flatteringly, made to stand as the representative of Queen Elizabeth, whom Spenser condescended to propitiate by adulation. Spenser says, in his letter to Raleigh, speaking of the "dark conceit" of the Faery Queen, "I devise that the Faëry Queen kept her annual feast

twelve days; upon which twelve several days the occasions of the twelve several adventures happened; which, being undertaken by twelve several knights, are in these twelve books handled and discoursed."* Thus, of the three first books, the first contains the adventures of the Red Cross Knight, or Holiness; the second, those of Sir Guyon, the representative of Temperance; the third, of Britomartis, a lady-knight-a sort of British Clorinda or Bradamante—in whom is pictured stern and saintly Chastity. These three books all critics agree in considering the most exquisite of the whole. They have an unsurpassable delicacy and grace-an Arcadian elegance and simplicity, almost unmatched in the language-indeed hardly approached by any author but Shakspeare. They will scarce bear the least abridgment, upon any principle of selection. The first book, in particular, we have felt constrained to give nearly unbroken. It affords æsthetic study for a life-time, if we contemplate it à la Schlegel. Raphael, and Claude, and a host of their glorious brethren, might have exhausted their genius worthily in drawing from it. Sermons innumerable might be preached from its heavenly texts; rules of life to satisfy the most rigid moralist enrich its every page. If it be treason for goodness to show itself unlovely, it is, on the other hand, transcendently worthy to show that true loveliness consists in goodness. The abstract idea of Truth will be ever more attractive to one who has learned to contemplate it under the divine figure of Una; Holi

"The Faëry Queen," says Prof. Wilson, "is to be considered as a gothic, not a classical poem. As a gothic poem, it derives its method, as well as the other characters of its composition, from the established modes and ideas of chivalry. Now, in the days of knight-errantry, at great annual feasts, throngs of knights and barons bold assembled, and thence sallied forth to succor the distressed-the noblest of all characters being that of deliverers. Such feasts were held for twelve days."

† See "A Gallery of Pictures from Spenser," in Hunt's "Imagination and Fancy."

ness seems within hope when we see it not incompatible with some touch of kindred human weakness in the Red Cross Knight.

"Will was his guide, and grief led him astray-"

and again, he was "too simple and too true," like other children of light, and so not always proof against the wiles of the wicked. And

“Oftentimes he quak'd, and fainted oftentimes,"

even as we, "frail, feeble, fleshly wights," are sure to do, let our hope be ever so strongly placed. The sweetest, most devoted, most child-like spirit of love and gratitude to Heaven was never more unostentatiously inculcated, and unconsciously exhibited, than in the general tone as well as many distinct passages of this delicious poem. Take a specimen or two, even though we should give them again in their place in our selections:

"And is there care in Heav'n? And is there love

In heavenly spirits to these creatures base,
That may compassion of their evils move?
There is -else much more wretched were the case
Of man than beasts: but oh! th' exceeding grace
Of Highest God that loves his creatures so,
And all his works with mercy doth embrace
That blessed angels he sends to and fro,

To serve to wicked man-to serve his wicked foe!

"How oft do they their silver bowers leave

To come to succor us that succor want!
How oft do they with golden pinions cleave
The flitting skies, like flying pursuivant

Against foul fiends to aid us militant!
They for us fight, they watch and duly ward

And their bright squadrons round about us plant;

And all for love and nothing for reward!

Oh why should heavenly God to man have such regard !"

And again:

Ay me! how many perils do enfold

The righteous man, to make him daily fall,
Wer't not that heavenly grace doth him uphold
And steadfast Truth acquit him out of all!
Her love is firm, her care continual,

So oft as he, through his own foolish pride

Or weakness, is to sinful bands made thrall."

This sweetness is not, however, exclusive of strength, when occasion offers for stirring the passions, and calling up the keenest sympathies. The genius of picture, rather than of passion, has been said to pervade the Faëry Queen; but, to our thinking, this sweeping opinion is unjust to Spenser. He was a man deeply concerned in the affairs of life; a man of friendship, of love, of sorrow, of disappointment; not a pale, stoical student, a dealer in abstractions, a builder up of castles at once imposing and impalpable. He was a true man; the blood in his rich veins was warm with the sympathies of humanity; and to us his poetry, imaginative as it is, is full-fraught with all this wealth of feeling and experience. His pictures have ever the charm of human interest. Even the perfect Una is as true a woman as if she had owned all the follies of her sex. When she has foundor thinks she has found-her knight again, is she only picturesque?

"His lovely words her seemed due recompense
Of all her pass'd pains; one loving hour

For many years of sorrow can dispense;

A drachm of sweet is worth a pound of sour!
She has forgot how many a woful stour
For him she late endured; she speaks no more

Of past; true is that true love hath no power

To looken back; his eyes be fixed before.

Before her stands her knight, for whom she toiled so sore."

Gorgeous pictures there are, in such lavish profusion, such