In bearded majesty.”
{36}We had intended to say something concerning the dexterous
Walsingham, the impetuous Oxford, the graceful Sackville, the
all-accomplished Sydney; concerning Essex, the ornament of the court
and of the camp, the model of chivalry, the munificent patron of genius,
whom great virtues, great courage, great talents, the favour of his
sovereign, the love of his countrymen, all that seemed to ensure a happy
and glorious life, led to an early and an ignominious death; concerning
Raleigh, the soldier, the sailor, the scholar, the courtier, the orator,
the poet, the historian, the philosopher, whom we picture to ourselves,
sometimes reviewing the Queen’s guard, sometimes giving chase to a
Spanish galleon, then answering the chiefs of the country party in the
House of Commons, then again murmuring one of his sweet love-songs too
near the ears of her Highness’s maids of honour, and soon after pouring
over the Talmud, or collating Polybins with Livy. We had intended also
to say something concerning the literature of that splendid period, and
especially concerning those two incomparable men, the Prince of Poets,
and the Prince of Philosophers, who have made the Elizabethan age a more
glorious and important era in the history of the human mind than the
age of Pericles, of Augustus, or of Loo. But subjects so vast require a
space far larger than we can at present afford. We therefore stop here,
fearing that, if we proceed, our article may swell to a bulk exceeding
that of all other reviews, as much as Dr. Nares’s book exceeds the bulk
of all other histories.