XVI.

A VISION ON THE MUSES OF HIS FRIEND
MICHAEL DRAYTON.

T hath been question'd, Michael, if I be
A friend at all; or, if at all, to thee:
Because, who make the question, have not

seen

Those ambling visits pass in verse, between
Thy Muse and mine, as they expect: 'tis true,
You have not writ to me, nor I to you.
And though I now begin, 'tis not to rub
Hanch against hanch, or raise a rhyming club
About the town; this reckoning I will pay,
Without conferring symbols; this' my day.

It was no dream! I was awake, and saw.
Lend me thy voice, O Fame, that I may draw
Wonder to truth, and have my vision hurl'd
Hot from thy trumpet round about the world.
I saw a beauty, from the sea to rise,

That all earth look'd on, and that earth all eyes!
It cast a beam, as when the cheerful sun

Is fair got up, and day some hours begun;
And fill'd an orb as circular as heaven:
The orb was cut forth into regions seven,
And those so sweet, and well proportion'd parts,
As it had been the circle of the arts:
When, by thy bright Idea standing by,

I found it pure and perfect poesy.

5 It hath been question'd, &c.] These lines are prefixed to the second volume of Drayton's works, which came out, in folio, in 1627. They contain, as Whalley observes, "an enumeration of his poems, with our author's testimony to their merits." Jonson always thought favourably of Drayton, and appears, from several incidental expressions, to have been very familiar with his works. 6 When by thy bright Idea, &c.] This is one of Drayton's earliest

There read I, straight, thy learned Legends three,
Heard the soft airs, between our swains and thee,
Which made me think the old Theocritus,

Or rural Virgil come to pipe to us.
But then thy Epistolar Heroic Songs,

Their loves, their quarrels, jealousies and wrongs,
Did all so strike me, as I cried, who can
With us be call'd the Naso, but this man?
And looking up, I saw Minerva's fowl,
Perch'd over head, the wise Athenian Owl:"

I thought thee then our Orpheus, that wouldst try,
Like him, to make the air one volary.

And I had styled thee Orpheus, but before
My lips cou'd form the voice, I heard that roar,
And rouze, the marching of a mighty force,
Drums against drums, the neighing of the horse,
The fights, the cries, and wond'ring at the jars,
I saw and read it was the Barons Wars.

O how in those dost thou instruct these times,
That rebels actions are but valiant crimes;
And carried, though with shout and noise, confess
A wild, and an unauthorized wickedness!
Say'st thou so, Lucan? but thou scorn'st to stay
Under one title: thou hast made thy way

And flight about the isle, well near, by this
In thy admired Periegesis,

Or universal circumduction

Of all that read thy Poly-Olbion ;8

pieces. Idea, or the Shepherds' Garland, fashioned in nine eglogs, 1593." The Legends are, I believe, those of "Cromwell," "Mortimer," and "Matilda;" the Songs are "England's Heroical Epistles," published in 1598.

The Owl.] Published in 4to. 1604. The Barons Wars, 1598. 8 Thy Poly-Olbion.] This is Drayton's principal work, and was once exceedingly popular. It is possessed of considerable merit, and those who may be inclined to smile at its fantastic chorography, may yet be pleased to discover many detached passages of high poetic beauty. Drayton was encouraged to proceed with this

That read it! that are ravish'd; such was I,
With every song, I swear, and so would die;
But that I hear again thy drum to beat
A better cause, and strike the bravest heat
That ever yet did fire the English blood,
Our right in France, if rightly understood.
There thou art Homer; pray thee, use the style
Thou hast deserv'd, and let me read the while
Thy catalogue of ships, exceeding his,
Thy list of aids and force, for so it is:
The poet's act; and for his country's sake,
Brave are the musters that the muse will make.
And when he ships them, where to use their arms,
How do his trumpets breathe! what loud alarms!
Look how we read the Spartans were inflam'd
With bold Tyrtæus' verse; when thou art nam'd,

poem by prince Henry; and Daniel, who also found, in this lamented youth, a generous patron, seems to advert to the circumstance with no great complacency.

The poems, to which Jonson alludes in the subsequent lines, are The Battle of Agincourt, The Miseries of Queen Margaret, the Quest of Cynthia, the Shepherds' Syrene, The Moon Calf, and the wellknown Nymphidia, or the Court of Fairies: all published in 1627.

The following remarks on Drayton by Granger (bating a little extravagance in the opening sentence) are not ill drawn up, and may fitly conclude the notes on the subject of this once celebrated poet.

"The reputation of Drayton, in the reigns of Elizabeth and James I., stood on much the same level with that of Cowley, in the reigns of Charles I. and II., but it has declined considerably since that period. He frequently wants that elevation of thought which is essential to poetry; though in some of the stanzas of his 'Barons Wars,' he is scarce inferior to Spenser. In his 'England's Heroical Epistles,' written in the manner of Ovid, he has been, in general, happier in the choice, than the execution of his subjects; yet some of his imitations are more in the spirit of that poet, than several of the English translations of him. His 'Nymphidia, or Court of Fayrie,' seems to have been the greatest effort of his imagination, and is the most generally admired of his works. His character among his friends was that of a modest and amiable man. Ob. 1631." Biog. Hist. v. i. pp. 10, 11.

So shall our English youth urge on, and cry
An Agincourt! an Agincourt! or die.
This book, it is a catechism to fight,
And will be bought of every lord and knight
That can but read; who cannot, may in prose
Get broken pieces, and fight well by those.
The miseries of Margaret the queen,
Of tender eyes will more be wept than seen.
I feel it by mine own, that overflow
And stop my sight in every line I go.
But then, refreshed by thy Fairy Court,
I look on Cynthia, and Syrena's sport,
As on two flow'ry carpets, that did rise,
And with their grassy green restored mine eyes.
Yet give me leave to wonder at the birth

Of thy strange Moon-calf, both thy strain of mirth,
And gossip-got acquaintance, as to us

Thou hadst brought Lapland, or old Cobalus,
Empusa, Lamia, or some monster more,
Than Afric knew, or the full Grecian store.
I gratulate it to thee, and thy ends,

To all thy virtuous and well-chosen friends;
Only my loss is, that I am not there,
And till I worthy am to wish I were,
I call the world that envies me, to see
If I can be a friend, and friend to thee.

XVII.

EPITAPH

ON MICHAEL DRAYTON.

O, pious marble, let thy readers know
What they, and what their children owe
To Drayton's name; whose sacred dust
We recommend unto thy trust.

Protect his memory, and preserve his story,
Remain a lasting monument of his glory.-
And when thy ruins shall disclaim
To be the treasurer of his name;
His name, that cannot die, shall be,
An everlasting monument to thee.1

9 On Michael Drayton.] Tradition hath generally fixed on Jonson as the author of this Epitaph; nor is it unworthy of his genius, or the friendship between him and Drayton, or unlike the stile and spirit of his smaller poems. WHAL.

In a MS. in Ashmole's Museum, (38,) this Epitaph is attributed to Randolph; Aubrey ascribes it to Quarles; it has also been given to others, and with as little judgment. I see no reason to dispute the common opinion.

His name, that cannot die, shall be,

An everlasting monument to thee.] This too might surprize Mr. Cumberland; for Jonson seems to have been poaching for it among the Greek fragments. See the epigram of Iön on the tomb of Euripides:

Ου σου μνημα τοδ' εστ', Ευριπίδη, αλλα σε τουδε,

Τη σῃ γαρ δοξη μνημα τοδ' αμπεχεται.