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India, cannot be a branch of the rivers of Eden. That Gehon was Nilus, the same distance maketh the same impossibility; and this river is a greater stranger to Tigris and Euphrates, than Ganges is. For although there are between Tigris and Ganges above four thousand miles, yet they both rise in the same quarter of the world: but Nilus is begotten in the mountains of the Moon, almost as far off as the Cape of Good Hope, and falleth into the Mediterranean sea; and Euphrates distilleth out of the mountains of Armenia, and falleth into the gulf of Persia: the one riseth in the south, and travelleth north; the other riseth in the north, and runneth south, threescore and three degrees the one from the other.'


• If all the world and love were young,
And truth in every shepherd's tongue,
These pretty pleasures might me move
To live with thee, and be thy love.

Time drives the flocks from field to fold,
When rivers rage, and rocks grow oold,
And Philomel becometh dumb;

The rest complain of cares to come.


* Isaac Walton informs us, that this Reply to Marlowe's Passionate Shepherd' was made by Sir Walter Ralegh in his younger days; and Mr. Wharton observes, that in England's Helicon' it is subscribed Ignoto, Ralegh's constant signature. Another very able critic however contends, that this signature was affixed by the publisher, who meant to express by it his own ignorance of the author's name: but it is to be observed, that in Mr. Steevens' copy of the first edition of the Helicon, the original signature was W. R.; the second subscription of

The flowers do fade, and wanton fields
To wayward winter reckoning yields:
A honey tongue-a heart of gall,
Is fancy's spring, but sorrow's fall.


Ignoto (which has been followed in the subsequent editions) being, rather awkwardly, pasted over it. (See Ellis' Specimens of the Early English Poets.') To enable the reader to judge better of the merit of the Reply and imitation, I here subjoin Marlowe's original:


'Come live with me, and be my love;

And we will all the pleasures prove
That valleys, groves, and hills, and fields
Woods, or steepy mountain yields.

And we will sit upon the rocks,
Seeing the shepherds feed their flocks
By shallow rivers, to whose falls
Melodious birds sing madrigals.

And I will make thee beds of roses,
And a thousand fragrant posies;
A cap of flowers, and a kirtle,
Embroider'd all with leaves of myrtle;

A gown made of the finest wool,
Which from our pretty lambs we pull;
Fair-lined slippers for the cold,
With buckles of the purest gold;

A belt of straw and ivy buds,
With coral clasps and amber studs;
And if these pleasures may thee move,
Come live with me, and be my love.

The shepherd swains shall dance and sing
For thy delight, each May morning:
If these delights thy mind may move,
Then live with me, and be my love.

Thy gowns, thy shoes, thy beds of roses,
Thy cap, thy kirtle, and thy posies
Soon break, soon wither, soon forgotten;
In folly ripe, in reason rotten.

Thy belt of straw and ivy buds,
Thy coral clasps and amber studs;
All these in me no means can move
To come to thee, and be thy love.

But could youth last, and love still breed,
Had joys no date, nor age no need;
Then these delights my mind might move
To live with thee, and be thy love.'


'Shall I, like a hermit, dwell
On a rock or in a cell;
Calling home the smallest part
That is missing of my heart,
To bestow it where I may
Meet a rival every day?
If she undervalue me,
What care I how fair she be?

Were her tresses angel gold-
If a stranger may be bold,
Unrebuked, unafraid,
To convert them to a braid,
And with little more ado
Work them into bracelets too;
If the mine be grown so free,
What care I how rich it be?

Were her hand as rich a prize
As her pair of precious eyes-
If she lay them out to take
Kisses for good manner's sake,
And let every lover skip
From her hand unto her lip;
If she seem not chaste to me,
What care I how chaste she be?

No: she must be perfect snow
In effect, as well as show;
Warming, but as snow-balls do,
Not like fire by burning too:
But when she by change hath got
To her heart a second lot;
Then, if others share with me,
Farewell her-whate'er she be.'


(Prefixed to the First Edition of that Work.)*
Methought I saw the grave where Laura lay,

Within that temple where the vestal flame
Was wont to burn: and passing by that way,
To see that buried dust of living fame,

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Whose tomb fair Love and fairer Virtue kept,
All suddenly I saw the Fairy Queen;

At whose approach the soul of Petrarch wept,
And from thenceforth those Graces were not seen-

For they this Queen attended, in whose stead
Oblivion laid him down on Laura's hearse.
Hereat the hardest stones were seen to bleed,

And groans of buried ghosts the heavens did pierce:

Where Homer's sprite did tremble all for grief,
And cursed th' access of that celestial thief.

the farewell.†

Go Soul, the Body's guest,
Upon a thankless errand:

Fear not to touch the best;
The truth shall be thy warrant.

The letter, by way of argument to explain Spenser's Poem, is addressed To the Right Noble and Valorous Sir Walter Ralegh.'

↑ This very beautiful poem, glowing with moral pathos, is

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usually stated to have been written by Ralegh the night before his execution: it had appeared, however, ten years before that event (somewhat differently expressed) in 'Davison's Rhapsody;' and is also to be found in a MS. Collection of Poems in the British Museum, dated 1596. It is printed, it may be added, among the works of Joshua Sylvester, fol. 1641..

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