She had, indeed, "carv'd Thee (Thought) for her seal," meaning thereby that Truth should multiply himself, and never die. SONNET 12. When I do count the clock that tells the time, And nothing 'gainst Time's scythe can make defence, As the day obscured by night; as the violet when fading to decay; as the sable hair when silvered; as tall trees bereft of foliage; as the green summer fields, gathered into bristly and bearded crops,-so, since it thus appears that natural objects are forsaken by the appendages that give them beauty and sweetness, will it be with the beauty and sweetness of his thoughts, and they will by time be wasted, unless he perpetuates himself by "breed " (the production of works worthy of himself). Therein is his only defence against Time. The next stanza is addressed to Beauty (impersonated as You). Those preceding have been ad dressed to Truth (impersonated as Thou) and Thy (impersonated as Thought). Thou, Thy, and You are represented as young men. Thou as the active, vigorous worker. The solid, reliable work of the dramas (all that gives them permanent value) is to be furnished by Thou, and this store is to be wrought into form by Thy (Thought). Beauty is to furnish ornament, imagery, creative power, and every conceivable grace that will render Truth attractive without impairing his might or perverting the ends he has in view. It has been suggested by some writers who favor the Baconian theory that the dramas were intended, when written, to form the fourth part of the Novum Organum. They were designed to illustrate life in character upon a philosophical basis, and not for theatrical representation. However this may have been, and how well soever they might have accomplished such a purpose, with nothing but conjecture for this opinion, we can consider them only in their isolated condition. The great merit of the dramas consists in the union of Truth and Beauty as everywhere exhibited in them. It is the one profound thought appearing in them which has given them their vast superiority over the works of all other writers. There is hardly a thought or character in the whole range that could be removed without affecting the grand entirety of the work in which it appears. As problems in the philosophy of mind, aside from their attractive garb of language and imagery, they will always rank with the philosophical works of the best writers. It has been truly said by Charles Lamb and others that they exceed the powers of the mimic art properly to display them; at the same time, it is also true that it will be a sad event for the theatre, when it abandons them, to give place to the wretched representations of this generation. SONNET 13. O, that You were Yourself! but, love, You are Yourself again after Yourself's decease, When Your sweet issue Your sweet form should bear. Who lets so fair a house fall to decay, Which husbandry in honor might uphold, O, none but unthrifts! dear, my love, You know You (Beauty), as Thou (Truth), in the preceding stanza, is urged to be himself, but he can only be himself while he lives, and he can live only in the object which he adorns. He is both evanescent, in that he fades with a thought, and dependent, because he has no separate life. This ethereality he is warned to overcome, by giving 3 OF TE R (CHIVERITY SA his "sweet semblance" (his varied powers of creation, fancy, grace, sublimity, dignity) to another, in whom it may be perpetuated. His gift should "find no determination" (it should be entire, unlimited). This will make You (Beauty) "Yourself again after Yourself's decease" (he will renew his life in every work that he adorns). When such a gift, so rich in attributes, can be honorably saved from "the stormy gusts of winter's day" (old age and its infirmities), and "barren rage of death's eternal cold" (negligence and disuse), who but an "unthrift" (a worthless fellow) will not avail himself of the means to develop it? As You (Beauty) depended upon a father (some object) for your life, so by a "son" (like dependence) must yours continue. SONNET 14. Nor from the stars do I my judgment pluck; But not to tell of good or evil luck, Of plagues, of dearths, or seasons' quality; Thy end is Truth's and Beauty's doom and date. The poet, though familiar with astronomy, has not consulted the stars, nor does his knowledge of them enable him to foretell their influence upon the fortune of any one, or upon the varied evils which befall the world. He does not understand their effect well enough to determine the time when fortune will come, nor their natural operation upon the climate and weather, nor will he undertake to predict good even to princes from any study he has made of the heavens; but he has learned from Thou's "eyes" (his external appearance), those "constant stars" (their changeless nature), enough of the art of divination to assure him that "truth and beauty" (Thou and You) shall succeed in producing a work worthy of them, if "from thyself to store thou wouldst convert" (if in his thoughts he can demonstrate Thou (Truth) in his labors correctly). If not, then he prophesies that in failing to do so, "Truth and Beauty" (Thou and You) will find their "doom" (they will not be used in the same manner by any one else, and the world will fail to derive any benefit from their conjoint presentation). SONNET 15. When I consider everything that grows Holds in perfection but a little moment, That this huge state presenteth naught but shows |