Highway, since you my chief Parnassus be;
And that my Muse, to some ears not unsweet,
Tempers her words to trampling horses' feet,
More soft than to a chamber melody,--
Now blessed You bear onward blessed Me
To Her, where I my heart safe left shall meet,
My Muse and I must you of duty greet
With thanks and wishes, wishing thankfully.
Be you still fair, honour'd by public heed,
By no encroachment wrong'd, nor time forgot;
Nor blam'd for blood, nor shamed for sinful deed.
And that you know, I envy you no lot
Of highest wish, I wish you so much bliss,
Hundreds of years you STELLA'S feet may kiss.
[Footnote 1: Press.]
Of the foregoing, the first, the second, and the last sonnet, are
my favourites. But the general beauty of them all is, that they
are so perfectly characteristical. The spirit of "learning and of
chivalry,"--of which union, Spenser has entitled Sydney to have been
the "president,"--shines through them. I confess I can see nothing
of the "jejune" or "frigid" in them; much less of the "stiff" and
"cumbrous"--which I have sometimes heard objected to the Arcadia. The
verse runs off swiftly and gallantly. It might have been tuned to the
trumpet; or tempered (as himself expresses it) to "trampling horses'
feet." They abound in felicitous phrases--