PHINEAS FLETCHER. 1584-1650. PHINEAS FLETCHER was the brother of Giles Fletcher, and born about the year 1584. He took his degree at Cambridge, and after completing his studies for the ministry, was presented with the living of Hilgay, in Norfolk, in 1621, which he held for twenty-nine years; and it is supposed that he died there in 1650. His chief poem is entitled "The Purple Island," which title, on being first beard, would suggest ideas totally different from what is its real subject. The truth is, it is a sort of anatomical poem, the "Purple Island" being nothing less than the human body, the veins and arte.ies of which are filled with the purple fluid coursing up and down; so that the first part of the poem, which is anatomically descriptive, is not a little dry and uninteresting. But after describing the body, he proceeds to personify the passions and intellectual faculties. "Here," says Headley, "fatigued attention is not merely relieved, but fascinated and enraptured; there is a boldness of outline, a majesty of manner, a brilliancy of coloring, and an air of life, that we look for in vain in modern productions, and that rival, if not surpass, what we meet with of the kind even in Spenser, from whom our author caught his inspiration." This is rather extravagant, and yet a few passages can be selected from Phineas Fletcher, that, for beauty, are scarcely exceeded by any poetry in the language. THE SHEPHERD'S LIFE.1 Thrice, oh thrice happy, shepherd's life and state, His cottage low, and safely humble gate Shuts out proud Fortune, with her scorns and fawns: No Serian worms he knows, that with their thread No empty hopes, no courtly fears him fright; Instead of music and base flattering tongues, 1 These beautiful lines seem to have suggested the plan of that most exquisite little piece called The Hamlet by Thomas Warton, which contains a selection of beautiful rural images, such as perhapa Lo other poem of equal length in our language presents us with. See it in the selections from Warton. His certain life, that never can deceive him, Is full of thousand sweets and rich content: The smooth-leaved beeches in the field receive him Of troublous world, nor lost in slothful ease: Pleased and full bless'd he lives, when he his God can please His bed of wool yields safe and quiet sleeps, His little son into his bosom creeps, The lively picture of his father's face: Never his humble house or state torment him; Less he could like, if less his God had sent him; And when he dies, green turfs with grassy tomb content him ENVY.1 Envy the next, Envy with squinted eyes; Sick of a strange disease, his neighbor's health; Best lives he then, when any better dies; Is never poor, but in another's wealth: On best men's harms and griefs he feeds his fill; Ill must the temper be, where diet is so ill. Each eye through divers optics slyly leers, And molehill faults to mountains multiply. When needs he must, yet faintly, then he praises; Somewhat the deed, much more the means be raises. DECAY OF HUMAN GREATNESS Fond man, that looks on earth for happiness, Why shouldst thou here look for perpetual good, Do but behold where glorious cities stood, With gilded tops and silver turrets shining; And loving pelican in safety breeds: There screeching satyrs fill the people's empty steads. Where is th' Assyrian lion's golden hide, That all the East once grasp'd in lordly paw? 1 "In ha description of Envy, Fletcher is superior to Spenser."-Retrospective Review ii. 343, I Places. Where that great Persian bear, whose swelling pride Or he which, 'twixt a lion and a pard, Through all the world with nimble pinions fared, And to his greedy whelps his conquer'd kingdoms shared Hardly the place of such antiquity, Or note of these great monarchies we find: Only a fading verbal memory, And empty name in writ is left behind: That monstrous beast, which, nursed in Tiber's fen, And trod down all the rest to dust and clay: Back'd, bridled by a monk, with seven heads oked stands. And that black vulture,' which, with deathful wing, Frighted the Muses from their native spring, Already stoops, and flags with weary flight: Who then shall hope for happiness beneath? Where each new day proclaims chance, change, and death, WILLIAM HABINGTON. 1605-1654. WILLIAM HABINGTON was born at the country seat of his ancestors in Worcestershire, called Hindlip, in 1605, the year of the famed gunpowder plot, the discovery of which is said to have come from his mother. They were a wealthy family, and were Papists. William was educated in the Jesuits' College in St. Omers, and afterwards at Paris, in the hope that he might enter into that society. But he preferred a wiser and happier course of life, and returning to his own country, married Lucy, daughter of William Herbert. In 1635 he published a volume of poems entitled "Castara," under which name he celebrates his wife, a kind of title fashionable in that day. He died when he had just completed his fiftieth year, and was buried in the family vault at Hindlip. But little is known of Habington's history. He appears to have been dis tinguished for connubial felicity, for a love of retirement and study, and for the dignity and moral beauty of his sentiments. "His poems possess much elegance, much poetical fancy, and are almost everywhere tinged with a deep moral cast, which ought to have made their fame more permanent." The Mohammedan Empire. York ? See "Censura Literaria," viii. 227 and 387; and Retrospective Review," xil. 274; also, "Hat lam'› Literature," &c., ii. 182. Cathedr 123 East 50th Street, CIRCULATING DEPARTMENT TO CASTARA, In praise of Content, and the calm Happiness of the Country at Hindlip. Do not their profane orgies hear Who but to wealth no altars rear: Yet Hindlip doth not want extent No north wind shall the corn infest, A Satyr here and there shall trip, The Nymphs with quivers shall adorn Waken'd with which, and viewing thee, So they whose wisdom did discuss THE VANITY OF AVARICE. Hark! how the traitor wind doth court To make their avarice his sport: A tempest checks the fond disdain; We'll sit, my love, upon the shore, And charm the sea to th' calm it had before. FEW names in our language have united in a greater degree the character of an instructive prose writer and a vigorous poet, than Joseph Hall. He was born at Briston Park, in Leicestershire, in 1574, and after taking his degree at Cambridge, he rose through various church preferments to be Bishop of Exeter, and subsequently, in 1641, to be Bishop of Norwich. In the same year he joined with the twelve prelates in the protestation of all laws made during their forced absence from Parliament. In consequence of this, he, with the rest, was sent to the Tower, and was released only on giving £5000 bail. Two years after, he was among the number marked out for sequestration. After suffering extreme hardships, he was allowed to retire on a small pittance, to Higham, near Norwich, where he continued, in comparative obscurity, but with indefatigable zeal and intrepidity, to exercise the duties of a pastor, till he closed his days, in the year 1656, at the venerable age of eighty-two. As a poet, Bishop Hall is known by his "Bookes of byting Satyres." These were published at the early age of twenty-three. They are marked, says Warton,' with a classical precision to which English poetry had yet rarely attained. They are replete with animation of style and sentiment. The characters are delineated in strong and lively coloring, and their discrimina tions are touched with the masterly traces of genuine humor. His chieí fault is obscurity, arising from a remote phraseology, constrained combinations, un familiar allusions, and abruptness of expression. But it must be borne in mind that he was the first English satirist. Pope, on presenting Mr. West with a copy of his poetical works, observed that he esteemed them the best poetry and the truest satire in the language. THE ANXIOUS CLIENT AND RAPACIOUS LAWYER. The crouching client, with low-bended knee, 1 A masterly analysis of these satires may be found in Waron's "History of English Poetry." vol. iv., sections 62, 63, and 64. |