brought, by critics, against Spenser, of having coined new words; and even, when it suited his rhymes, of changing the orthography of established ones, cannot be denied, though it must be regretted. This much, however, may be urged in his defence: That, which now would be justly considered a presumptuous innovation, an act of high treason against the laws of literature, was, at that period, the common and allowed practice of every author. Feeling little dread of criticism, which had not attained the full-grown and absolute authority which it now seems too fond of wielding; and being, as it were, the discoverers of new worlds, the ancient authors thought themselves entitled to express their new-born ideas in the language they preferred. Chaucer, the father of English poetry, and the first who gave permanency to our fluctuating language, still retains many uncouth expressions, whose mixture of French and Italian have a tawdry appearance amidst his sturdy English. Wilson, in his "Art of Rhetoric," observes, that "some seek so far for outlandish English, that they forget altogether their mother tongue. And, I dare swear this, if some of their mothers were alive, they would not be able to tell what they say: and yet, these fine English clerks will say they speak in their mother tongue, if a man should charge them with counterfeiting the king's English." "He that cometh lately out of France, will talk French-English, and never blush at the matter. Another chops in with English Italianated....The fine courtier will talk nothing but Chaucer. The mystical wise men and poetical clerks will speak nothing but quaint proverbs and blind allegories: some use over much repetition of one letter, as, pitiful poverty prayeth for a penny, but puffed presumption passeth not a point-pampering his paunch with pestilent pleasure-procuring his pass-port to post it to hellpit, there to be punished with pains perpetual." of In this absurd taste, or fashion, we find the source of many Spenser's errors, his alliterations, his fondness of blind allegory, and his antiquated style. Even the powerful influence of fashion affords but a poor excuse for the absurd allegory, with which he has so pertinaciously deformed his poem. It is wonderful, that the mind which could conceive so many beautiful visions, and pure images, whose simplicity was nature in unequalled loveliness, should not have rejected such unprofitable labour, and disdained to sacrifice its correct ideas at the shrine of such a taste. He had another fault, but we will touch it lightly-for it was his vocation as a courtier: his cloying and incessant adulation to Elizabeth, and the powerful nobles of her court, stain the beauty of his verse, and the independence of his character. We are, certainly, well contented with the existing state of things, when warlike maidens are out of date, and damsels no longer seek their lovers on the high roads or in deep forests; when there are no giants, but those reared by wealth, and no enchantresses more dread than fair mortal nymphs. We had rather be righted by the slow, but sure arm of the law, than by the gauntleted hand of any knight that ever pricked upon a plain. We would prefer a soft bed, in a comfortable inn, to the richest moss couch, by the side of purest fount; and, we think milestones a good invention. In short, we would rather be clad in a suit of broad cloth than in a coat of mail. Still, setting aside these and the like objections, there was something ennobling in the chivalrous days, when honour, courage and gallantry were a knight's first virtues, and chastity the brightest gem in a woman's coronet. It is pleasant to withdraw a while from the beaten road of life, from the plodding of business, the calculations of commerce, and the jarring of politics, to verdant fields and shady groves, where brave knights are reposing from the toil of battle; or to wander with the fair heroines, their mistresses, through fairy gardens, and bowers of bliss. There, (that is, in fairy land,) unlike this nether world, oppression is punished, virtue is righted, true love never goes unrewarded, and constancy is always happy at last. It is in an excursion of this kind that we invite our readers to accompany us; and we shall give ourselves full permission to rove through the many gardens of delight, which, like a skilful magician, Spenser has caused to bloom for ever, and to transfer to our pages some of the rarest blossoms there. We will promise our companions, moreover, to lead them through the pleasantest paths, and never to call on their attention without being enabled to repay it. There are few particulars of Spenser's life known. He was the friend of Sir Philip Sydney and Sir Walter Raleigh. His Fairy Queen was commenced in 1589, and published in 1590, and procured him the pension, though he did not take the title, of Laureate to the Queen. It would exercise our readers' patience, as well as our own, to attempt to give a regular and minute account of this work. The poet styles it, truly, "a continued allegory, and dark conceit:" and though we cannot assert, as has been stated of Ariosto, that one of his heroes, after having been slain outright, like Falstaff, rises to meet new adventures; yet we confess that amid the jostle of characters, and involutions of the plot, such an occurrence might have escaped our critical eyes. The hero of the poem is Prince Arthur, of glorious memory-whose characteristic is magnificence or greatness of soul -the crown of virtue. But each book has its particular hero, who represents one of the virtues; and Arthur is introduced as assisting these knights in their most dangerous adventures. The Prince comes to fairy land in quest of Gloriana, whom he has seen and loved, in a vision; and who, while she is the emblem of Glory, has an especial reference to Queen Elizabeth-whose kingdom is the fairy land. The time of the story commences with the real period of Arthur's history; but the allusion to circumstances in Elizabeth's life, and to many nobles of her court, identifies the fable with her reign, and renders it more perplexing. Nor do we learn the occasion which has scattered the elfin knights, or find a developement of the plan, until the last bookwhere it appears that the Fairy Queen held an annual feast, for twelve days, on each of which, some distressed maiden, or oppressed sufferer, solicits and receives a champion, whose several adventures, and their episodes, each contained in a separate book, comprise the six which remain to us. While we wander through the dark regions of allegory, where Spenser leads us, we cannot but wonder at the ingenuity and skill with which he gives life and colour to abstract ideas, in making them actors in his pageant. It was impossible for him, however, to avoid falling into the error natural to continued personification, that of confounding the action with the passion, and giving to the creatures of his imagination occupations inconsistent with their aerial natures. By dropping the personification he often mixes real with fictitious objects, and produces an unnatural and displeasing effect; as in the contest of the red cross knight with Error, where the expedient to which Error has recourse when nearly overcome, is not only gross, but a strange medley of narrative with metaphor; and, like Milton's allegory of sin, disgusts by its deformity. The measure he has chosen allows, we may say requires, exuberance of style. The frequent recurrence of similar rhymes, compelled him to admit unsuitable words and incongruous ideas— it drove him often to tiresome repetitions and useless interjections; and, in so long a poem, exposed him to the commission of glaring faults. But when the thoughts and words flow in unison, there is a graceful majesty and harmony in Spenser's measure, which cannot be excelled. In the first book we have the picture of Una, the beautiful personificator of truth or pure religion-who is the companion of the red cross knight, "the patron of true holiness." The description of the house of Morpheus, where Tethys his wet bed Doth ever wash, and Cynthia still doth steepe, In silver deaw, his ever-drouping hed, Whiles sad Night over him her mantle black doth spred,' has been often quoted; we will, therefore, limit ourselves to two stanzas, descriptive of the luxurious solitude of the drowsy god. 'Whose double gates he findeth locked fast, And wakeful dogges before them farre doe lye, And unto Morpheus comes, whom drowned deepe And more to Julle him in his slumber soft, A trickling streame from high rock tumbling downe, Mixt with a murmuring winde, much like the sowne Canto I. ver. 40, 41. Una, forsaken by the red cross knight, who is beguiled by falsehood or Duessa, seeks him alone, and meets with many startling adventures. The following one has afforded a fine subject for the pencil. 'One day nigh wearie of the yrksome way, It fortuned out of the thickest wood And with the sight amazd, forgat his furious forse. Instead thereof he kist her wearie feet, O how can beautie maister the most strong, The house of Pride, whither the Christian knight is enticed by Duessa, is minutely drawn, and the allegory well supported. 'A stately palace built of squared bricke, Whose wals were high, but nothing strong nor thicke, That purest skye with brightnesse they dismaid Full of faire windowes and delightfull bowres, It was a goodly heape for to behould, And all the hinder partes, that few could spie, Canto IV. ver. 4, 5. Lucifera, the queen of the stately abode, is thus represented : 'High above all a cloth of state was spred, So proud she shyned in her princely state, The description of her equipage is very curious. It was drawn "by six unequal beasts, on which her six sage counsellours did "ryde." These attendants of Pride are Idleness, Gluttony, Lechery, Avarice, Envy, and Wrath. Satan, fit guider of the cavalcade, completes the groupe. The picture of Envy partakes |