SOURCE: Nott, George Frederick. “An Essay on Wyatt's Poems.” 1816. Reprinted in Wyatt: The Critical Heritage, edited by Patricia Thomson, pp. 47-89. London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1974.

[In the essay below, originally published in the second volume of Nott's 1815-16 edition of The Works of Henry Howard Earl of Surrey and of Sir Thomas Wyatt the Elder, the critic charges that Wyatt lacked originality and skill with language. In the endnotes following this essay, Nott's original notes appear within parentheses; all others are Thomson's.]

What has been already observed concerning the Earl of Surrey, that though he was eminent for his virtues and personal accomplishments, yet his claim to celebrity rested principally upon his writings, applies equally to Sir Thomas Wyatt. It remains for us to inquire therefore what share of praise he likewise is entitled to in the same respect.

Of Sir Thomas Wyatt as a poet, Warton has drawn a character which is, like every thing that falls from that writer's pen, both lovely and elegant; it is just and satisfactory also, as far as it goes; but it is much too general. We shall readily admit from Warton's observations that good composition began to dawn with Wyatt; but we do not collect from any thing he has said, what particular improvements were made by him in our language or style of writing; neither are we informed what the sources were from which he drew; or upon what authors he formed himself. These deficiencies I will endeavour to supply.

Wyatt, as a poet, can lay little claim to originality. It is true that his writings are diversified; far more so in fact than might have been expected at that early period of our literature. He wrote Sonnets, Rondeaus, Amatory Odes, both grave and gay, Epigrams, Poems of a moral and religious cast, and Satires upon common life. He employed also great diversity of measure, and supplies examples of almost every form of stanza that has since been used; still he was not an original writer. He seems to have begun in every instance by translating from some other author; and as he was a good scholar, and a man of extensive reading, he took his models equally from the Greek,¹ the Latin, the French, the Italian, and the Spanish² writers. Having caught an author's style, he proceeded to write in his manner. His imitations are always good indeed; but still they are imitations; and are fewer in point of number than are his positive translations. When to this we add that many of the authors whom Wyatt was in the habit of reading have since fallen into obscurity, we may reasonably suspect that even of those pieces which we presume at present to be original, some might be found to be translations, had we the means of extending inquiry, or at best imitations only.

Of Wyatt's Sonnets, the greater part are translated from Petrarch; his Epigrams are borrowed chiefly from the Strambotti of Serafino D'Aquila, and his moral pieces are imitated from Seneca and Boethius. His Paraphrase of the Penitential Psalms seems to have been suggested by Dante's prior Paraphrase, or by that of Alamanni:³ while the introductory part is taken from a similar introduction by Beza.⁴ Of his Satires, one is a free translation from Alamanni:⁵ the other two are imitated from Horace and Persius.⁶

Of all Wyatt's compositions, those which can best lay claim to originality are his amatory odes. I mean his lesser odes, for the two longest are taken from two Canzoni of Petrarch. But even of the lesser odes some are evidently borrowed from the French, some from Italian, and many I doubt not from Spanish writers: for it is not credible that Wyatt, with his love of poetry and knowledge of the language, should not have read and studied the Spanish poets during his residence in Spain.⁷ Indeed, if we examine Wyatt's style with attention, we shall find it bearing a nearer resemblance to the style of the Spanish, than to that of either the French or the Italian poets.

There is a sort of gravity in the structure of Wyatt's periods, and a certain dignity in the flow of his versification, which is to be met with no where that I have ever remarked, but in the best Castilian writers. A single instance will suffice to explain my meaning.

Herrera thus begins one of his Elegies.

Quién me daria, Amor, una voz fuerte,
          Y espíritu en mis lástimas osado,
          Para cantar las cuitas de mi suerte?(8)

What a striking resemblance does the turn of expression as well as thought in this passage bear to the following lines, with which Wyatt opens one of his odes.

Where shall I have at mine own will
          Tears to complain? where shall I fet
Such sighs, that I may sigh my fill,
          And then again my plaint repeat?

[LIII]

Had we not known that Wyatt wrote many years before Herrera was born, we might have supposed him to have studied and imitated the Castilian Poet.

If we examine particularly the several species of composition which Wyatt attempted, we shall find him to have failed most in his Sonnets. In these he has shewn great want of taste as well in the choice of his subjects, as in his manner of treating them. The Sonnets he has selected from Petrarch are for the most part the worst that Petrarch wrote. Instead of taking such as were true to nature, and expressive of simple feeling, he has fixed on those which abound with ingenious subtleties and conceits. Thus at one time he tells us that his heart is a ship steered by cruelty through stormy seas, and dangerous rocks.

My galley charged with forgetfulness,
          Thorough sharp seas in winter nights doth pass
          'Tween rock and rock, and eke mine enemy, alas!
          That is my Lord, steereth with cruelness.

[XXVIII]

At another time he likens himself to an huge mountain covered with woods, and full of springs, birds, beasts, rocks, and fruit-trees.

Like to these unmeasurable mountains
          Is my painful life the burthen of ire,
          For of great height be they, and high is my desire,
          And I of tears, and they be full of fountains.(9)

[XXXIII]

And when he wishes to express the perplexities and conflicting hopes and fears that distract the Lover's mind, he tortures imagination to combine contrarieties. Thus he tells us that ‘he burns and freezes at the same time; that he flies above the wind, yet cannot raise himself from the earth; that he sees without eyes, and utters lamentations without a tongue.’¹⁰

Nor are these the only defects remarkable in Wyatt's Sonnets. That species of composition requires an even and a simple flow of versification. But the versification of Wyatt's Sonnets is uniformly harsh and unmelodious. The lines are cumbered with heavy monosyllables, and are deformed with antiquated words and ungraceful contractions; so that though the thoughts may be pleasing in themselves, they are so expressed as to destroy the effect they might have otherwise produced; as in the following instance.

The lover seeing his mistress, as he thinks, with an expression of tenderness upon her countenance, fondly persuades himself that it proceeds from latent regard towards himself. Encouraged by this belief he resolves to address her; but finds so many thoughts press upon him for utterance, that he knows not how to begin. This perplexity is perfectly in nature, and is thus feelingly and elegantly described by Petrarch.

Ben s'io non erro, di pietate un raggio
          Scorgo fra 'l nubiloso altero ciglio,
          Che 'n parte rasserena il cor doglioso.
Allor raccolgo l' alma; e poi ch' i' aggio
          Di scovririle il mio mal preso consiglio,
          Tante le ho a dir, che incomminciar non oso.

Wyatt renders the thought thus.

Yet as I guess under disdainful brow
          One beam of pity is in her cloudy look
          That comforteth the mind that erst for fear shook.
And therewithal bolded I seek the way how
          To utter the smart that I suffer within,
          But such it is I 'not how to begin.

[LVI, 9-14]

It is in vain to seek in these lines for any of the grace or elegance of the original. The sentiment itself thus expressed, loses all character of tenderness; communicates no pleasure, and excites no interest.

The same want of taste is observable in most of Wyatt's Rondeaus; of which, it should be observed, some are translations from Sonnets of Petrarch.¹¹ Why Wyatt should have used that form in translating them, it is difficult to say. The Rondeau is adapted to express thoughts of which the character is artlessness and Naïveté, with a little turn of playfulness and arch satire about them; and not studied sentiments of grave and solemn complaint.¹²

Wyatt's two larger odes¹³ from Petrarch,

Mine old dear enemy, my froward master;

[VIII]

and that which begins,

So feeble is the thread” that doth the burthen stay,

[XCVIII]

exhibit all the faults of style and language which we have already noted in his Sonnets, and in his Rondeaus. Of these odes the second is the best. It seems to have been written without effort, and therefore has in some places the charm of simple feeling. In the first ode, however, there is a total absence of ease and elegance; so that a person, unacquainted with the original, will be at a loss to comprehend, upon what ground of taste the Italians can consider it to be one of Petrarch's best compositions. A single passage will suffice to confirm this remark, and shew Wyatt's inferiority.

In Petrarch we find the following harmonious and feeling lines.

Misero! a che, quel chiaro ingegno altero!
E l'altre dote a me date dal cielo?
Che vo cangiando 'l pelo,
Nè cangiar posso l'ostinata voglia;
Così in tutto mi spoglia
De libertà, questo crudel ch'i accuso,
Ch' amaro viver m' ha volto in dolce uso.

Wyatt renders them thus;

But alas! where now had I ever wit,
          Or else any other gift given me of Nature;
That sooner shall change my wearied sprit,
          Than the obstinate will that is my rulèr;
          So robbeth my liberty with displeasùre
This wicked traitor whom I thus accuse;
That bitter life hath turned me in pleasant use.

[VIII, 36-42]

But Wyatt is more fortunate in his lesser odes, which often afford beautiful specimens as well of language, as of style, and turn of thought. They were composed probably on the impulse of the moment, and being written without effort are always natural, and frequently are tender and pathetic. His ode to his Lute is a piece of singular beauty; and has not been yet surpassed by any thing hitherto written in our language on a similar subject. The opening is dramatic, and empassioned.

Awake, my Lute! perform the last
Labour, that thou and I shall waste,
          And end that I have now begun;
And when this song is sung and past,
          My Lute be still! for I have done.

[LXVI]

He then reproves his disdainful mistress for her cruelty; and having reminded her, that though in the pride of youth and beauty, she deemed herself secure from all reverse of fortune, the vengeance of offended Love still would overtake her, he proceeds to draw the following animated picture of her future mortifications.

May chance thee lie wither'd and old,
The winter nights that are so cold,
          Plaining in vain into the moon.
Thy wishes then dare not be told!
          But care who list, for I have done.
And then may chance thee to repent,
The time that thou hast lost and spent;
          To cause thy Lovers sigh and swoon;
Then shall thou know beauty but lent,
          And wish and want, as I have done.

The little ode on parting from his mistress is tender and simple. The picture drawn in the concluding stanza is natural, lively, and affecting.

She wept and wrung her hands withall;
          Her tears fell in my neck:
She turn'd her face and let it fall,
          And scarce therewith could speak.
                    Alas the while!

[XXXVIII, 21-25]

In his ode entitled, ‘An earnest suit to his unkind Mistress,’ he gives a novel turn to amatory complaint:

And wilt thou leave me thus?
          Say nay! say nay, for shame,
          To save thee from the blame
          Of all my grief and grame(14)
And wilt thou leave me thus?
                                                            Say nay! say nay!

[CLXXXVI]

In the following lines he is pathetic, and writes with that air of truth, which ever distinguishes genuine from artificial passion.

Forget not yet the tried intent,
Of such a truth as I have meant;
My great travail so gladly spent,
                                                            Forget not yet!
Forget not yet the great assays,
The cruel wrong, the scornful ways,
The painful patience in delays,
                                                            Forget not yet!
Forget not! oh! forget not this,
How long ago hath been, and is,
The mind that never meant amiss!
                                                            Forget not this!

[CCIII]

In the ensuing stanza we meet with expressions that are new, as well as beautiful.

And if an eye may save, or slay,
          And strike more deep than weapon long;
And if a look by subtle play,
          May move one more than any tongue;
          How can ye say that I do wrong,
Thus to suspect without desert;
For the eye is traitor to the heart.

[XCIII]

In the same ode we meet with another expression of still greater elegance and refinement.

But yet alas! that look, all soul,
          That I do claim of right to have
Should not methink, & c.

The thought in the following passage is of a different nature; it is ingenious, but not overstrained, and is expressed with dignity.

My Love is like unto th' eternal fire
          And I, as those that do therein remain;
Whose grievous pain is but their great desire,
          To see the sight which they may not attain.

[CC]

The following passage is adduced as affording a striking proof of Wyatt's command of language. The thought is complicated, and laboured; yet it is expressed with ease, and precision. It is in the spirit of Cowley; and perhaps Cowley himself could not have rendered it better.

For to the flame, wherewith ye burn
          My thought and my desire,
When into ashes it should turn
          My heart, by fervent fire,
                    Ye send a stormy rain,
                    That doth it quench again,
          And make mine eyes express
          The tears, that do redress
          My life in wretchedness,
Then, when these should have drown'd
          And overwhelm'd my heart;
The heart doth them confound,
          Renewing all my smart.
                    Then doth the flame increase;
                    My torment cannot cease.
          My woe doth thus revive,
          And I remain alive,
          With death still for to strive.

[CXIV, 10-27]¹⁵

But the style of thought and expression that is particularly characteristic of Wyatt's manner, is that of deep manly sorrow; which at the same time that it is descriptive of acute feeling, is free from querulousness. In the ode which begins

Resound my voice, ye woods! that hear me playne,

[XXII]

though some expressions occur which we could wish altered, we meet with many passages in it of great strength. Thus, having said that all the surrounding objects in nature seemed to listen to his complaints and compassionate his sufferings, he adds,

The hugy oaks have roared in the wind;
Each thing methought complaining in their kind.

In the same elevated strain of manly sorrow are the following nervous lines

Heaven, and earth, and all that hear me playne,
          Do well perceive what care doth make me cry;
Save you alone, to whom I cry in vain
          Mercy, Madam! alas! I die, I die!

[LXXIII, 1-4]

and thus afterwards, when he expostulates with his cruel mistress;

It is not now, but long and long ago
          I have you serv'd as to my power and might
As faithfully as any man might do,
          Claiming of you nothing of right, of right;
Save of your grace only to stay my life,
          That fleeth as fast as cloud before the wind;
For since that first I entered in this strife
          An inward death doth freat my mind, my mind.
If I had suffered this to you unware,
          Mine were the fault, and you nothing to blame;
But since you know my woe, and all my care,
          Why do I die, alas! for shame! for shame!

[Ibid., 17-28]

In these and many similar passages that might be adduced we observe a certain earnestness of expression, and a dignified simplicity of thought, which distinguishes Wyatt's amatory effusions from Surrey's, and I might add from those of every other writer in our language.

It will readily be granted that Wyatt's odes, as generally is the case with those who write much, are far from being all of equal beauty. In some, the thoughts are not expressed with sufficient care and precision; and in others, the thoughts themselves are not worth the labour bestowed upon them. Still the greater number possess considerable merit. Wyatt's feelings are those of no common mind; he knows how to complain, yet command respect; and excites pity without incurring humiliation.

In his Epigrams, for I know not by what other name to call his smaller poems, Wyatt formed himself on the Strambotti of Serafino D'Aquila, a poet now almost entirely forgotten, but once so famous, that it was deemed an honour to have even seen his tomb.¹⁶

Serafino was a poet of a lively fancy, but no judgment: his works abound with extravagant conceits, and all the glitter of that false taste which distinguished the writers of his school. Wyatt therefore, in this respect, owed him no great obligation. The form of the Epigram, however, which he borrowed from him is pleasing, and may be often used with advantage. Wyatt availed himself of it to express those thoughts which are perpetually occurring to the poet's mind, but are not of sufficient importance to find place in laboured composition. Whenever he met therefore with any single idea or picturesque circumstance in the course of his reading, worthy notice, he moulded it into an epigram, such as we are now describing. Thus, one is taken from the account given by Josephus of the Hebrew Mother, who was driven by famine at the siege of Jerusalem to devour her own child.¹⁷ Another, on the courtier's life, was suggested by a passage in Seneca's Thyestes;¹⁸ and that of the man who hung himself for the loss of his treasure, by either the Greek of Plato, or the Latin of Ausonius.¹⁹ The enigmatical epigram on a gun²⁰ is taken from a riddle in one of Pandulfo's Dialogues called Scopista: a work so little known that the reader will not be displeased to see transcribed from it the lines which Wyatt has translated.

Vulcanus genuit; peperit Natura; Minerva
          Edocuit; Nutrix Ars fuit, atque dies.
Vis mea de Nihilo est; tria dant mili corpora pastum.
          Sunt nati, Strages, Ira, Ruina, Fragor.
Dic, Hospes, qui sum! Num terræ, an bellua ponti?
          An neutrum! aut quo siun facta, vel orta modo.(21)

The best of Wyatt's epigrams are those which may be considered as original. Of these I will adduce two. They will be found to be as elegant and pleasing in their way as any thing to be met with in our best succeeding writers. The first was written when he was about to quit Spain on his return to London.

          Tagus, farewell! that westward with thy streams
                    Turns up the grains of gold already tried:
          For I with spur, and sail go seek the Thames,
                    Gainward the sun that shew'th her wealthy pride;
          And to the town, that Brutus sought with dreams,
                    Like bended moon doth lend her lusty side.
My King, my Country, alone for whom I live,
Of mighty love for this the wings me give.

[XCIV]

There is great tenderness of thought and richness of allusion in these lines; they prove Wyatt's mind to have been well stored with reading. But what constitutes their chief merit is a certain air of truth which shews them to have been the spontaneous effusion of feeling. They are far superior on this account to some verses which the celebrated Naugerius wrote upon his return to Italy from Spain, whither he had been likewise sent as an ambassador from Venice, not long before Wyatt's appointment.

Salve! cura Deum, mundi felicior ora!
Formosæ Veneris dulces salvete recessus!
Ut vos, post tantos animi mentisque labores,
Aspicio, lustroque libens! ut munere vestro
Sollicitas toto depello à pectore curas.
Non aliis Charites perfundunt candida lymphis
Corpora, non alios contexunt serta per agros.(22)

This is elegant and classical, but it is too general, particularly in the concluding lines, to excite much feeling.

The next Epigram I shall adduce is one of a different kind, but of singular beauty.

          A face that should content me wondrous well,
                    Should not be fair, but lovely to behold;
          With gladsome chere all grief for to expel.
                    With sober looks so would I that it should
          Speak without words, such words as none can tell:
                    Her tress also should be of crisped gold.
With wit and these might chance I might be tied,
And knit again the knot that should not slide.

[CXVIII]

Wyatt's Paraphrase of the Seven Penitential Psalms comes next to be considered. It seems to have been the work which his contemporaries, and he himself perhaps regarded as his highest effort. Surrey and Leland were sincere I doubt not in their commendations of it, when they both declared it to be a work worthy of eternal praise.²³ Posterity has judged otherwise. Of all Wyatt's compositions it is that which has sunk the earliest into oblivion; and now that it is reprinted will, I fear, notwithstanding its real merit, be the least read.

This is owing I apprehend not so much to want of skill in the writer, as to the nature of the subject which has occasioned failure, not in Wyatt's instance only, but in many others that might easily be cited. ‘From poetry,’ to use Johnson's words, ‘the reader justly expects, and from good poetry always obtains the enlargement of his comprehension, and the elevation of his fancy: but this is rarely to be hoped for by Christians from metrical devotion. Whatever is great, desirable, or tremendous, is comprised in the name of the Supreme Being. Omnipotence, cannot be exalted; Infinity, cannot be amplified; Perfection, cannot be improved.’ For this reason, Devotional Poetry is seldom found to please: indeed it cannot be, strictly speaking, poetical. ‘Man admitted to implore the mercy of his Creator, and plead the merits of his Redeemer, is in an higher state than poetry can confer.’ If Wyatt's Paraphrase, therefore, falls generally short of expectation, this cannot be a matter of wonder, and ought not to be one of blame.²⁴

There are, however, some defects in the Paraphrase, with which, as they might have been avoided, Wyatt is justly chargeable.

Verse of every sort, as it is designed to affect the feelings, ought to delight the ear. This, which is a general principle, should have been particularly attended to in the composition before us; inasmuch as sentiments of sorrow and dejection require a versification of the simplest and most melodious kind. But Wyatt's versification in his Paraphrase is more crabbed and inharmonious than, perhaps, in any other part of his works. Its very structure is uncertain: it seems to fluctuate between the regular Iambic line, which Surrey had then introduced, and the old Rhythmical line to which Wyatt had been early accustomed; in consequence of which the even flow of metrical numbers is frequently interrupted by the occurrence of defective or redundant lines that cannot be reduced to measure but by means of the old cæsura and rhythmical cadence. The language also is unequal. Many words are distorted from their natural pronunciation, and made to bear a strong accent on the last syllable for the sake of the rhyme; the old French mode of pronunciation, which Surrey succeeded in abolishing, is retained; and forced and inelegant contractions are used, as well as harsh and unpleasing licences. Thus ‘quit’, is pronounced ‘quite’, to rhyme with ‘sprite’, [CVIII, 769, 771]; the noun ‘assembly’, is made ‘assemble’, to rhyme with ‘tremble’, [CVIII, 202, 206]; and ‘thirst’ is changed to ‘thrist’, to rhyme with ‘trust’, [CVIII, 688, 690]. In one place we find lines ending with ‘redeemeth’, ‘esteem'th’, and ‘seem'th’, [CVIII, 593, 595, 597]; in another ‘fever’ is made to rhyme with ‘fervor’, [CVIII, 185, 187]; ‘praiseth’ with ‘poiseth’, and ‘complisheth’, [CVIII, 518, 520, 522]; ‘Son’, with ‘salvation’, [CVIII, 712, 714]; and ‘thing’, with ‘bemoaning’ and ‘deserving’, [CVIII, 77, 79, 81].

These are the defects of Wyatt's Paraphrase. Its merits are numerous, and such as shew its author to have been possessed of considerable learning and knowledge of his subject; to have had just and exalted views of the great mystery of Redemption; and to have been a pure, an humble, and a zealous Christian.

He sometimes in his Paraphrase gives a new and an ingenious turn to the original.²⁵ As in this passage.

And when mine enemies did me most assail,
          My friends most sure, wherein I set most trust,
          Mine own virtues, soonest then did fail.
And stand apart. Reason and Will unjust,
          As kin unkind, were furthest gone at need,
          So had they place their venom out to thrust
That sought my death.

[CVIII, 364-70]

I am not aware that any commentator has given his fanciful interpretation to the passage. It is not necessary to the sense, and probably was not the Psalmist's meaning; but to a pious and contemplative mind it opens a door to much useful meditation.

In the same strain of ingenious comment is the following passage.

          For like as smoke my days been pass'd away;
          My bones dried up as furnace in the fire;
My heart, my mind, is wither'd up like hay,
          Because I have forgot to take my bread,
          My bread of life, the word of Truth.(26)

[CVIII, 551-5]

The common translation is simply, ‘my heart is smitten and withered like grass, so that I forget to eat my bread.’²⁷

Wyatt sometimes introduces little distinctions of his own, which have a claim to an higher merit than that of mere ingenuity; they are those distinctions of which a heart, communing with itself, acknowledges at once both the force and the propriety.

          But thou O Lord how long after this sort
          Forbearest thou to see my misery!
Suffer me yet in hope of some comfort
          Fear, and not feel that thou forgettest me.

[CVIII, 112-15]

on which last line I would observe further, that it exhibits a fine instance of that compression by which one of the beneficial ends of poetry is effected. That of presenting truth to the mind on a form so precise, and in terms so chosen, that it is approved of by the judgment without the process of discussion, and retained without effort by the memory.

In some passages Wyatt is animated, as well as original.

          Thou of my health shall gladsome tidings bring,
          When from above remission shall be seen
Descend on earth; then shall for joy upspring
          The bones, that were before consum'd to dust.

[CVIII, 473-6]

Sometimes he approaches to the tenderness of a pathetic melancholy.

          ———then lift I up in haste
My hands to Thee; my soul to Thee doth call,
          Like barren soil, for moisture of thy grace.
          Haste to my help, O Lord! before I fall;
For sure I feel my spirit doth faint apace.
          Turn not thy face from me that I be laid
          In compt of them that headlong down do pass
Into the pit; shew me by times thin aid,
          For on thy grace I wholly do depend.

[CVIII, 750-8]

At other times he is solemn, full, and majestic.

          No place so far, that to Thee is not near.
No depth so deep that thou ne may'st extend
          Thine ear thereto; hear Thou my woeful plaint.
          For, Lord, if thou observe what men offend,
And put thy native mercy in restraint;
          If just exaction demand recompence,
          Who may endure, O Lord! who shall not faint
At such account! dread and not reverence
          Should so reign large: but Thou seek'st rather love;
          For in thy hand is mercy's residence.

[CVIII, 672-81]

Wyatt's Paraphrase is accompanied with an introduction, describing the occasion on which the Penitential Psalms are supposed to have been written; and every psalm is preceded by a sort of prologue connecting each with the other, and marking, as it were, the progress of the Royal Penitent's contrition.²⁸ The introduction is fanciful and poetical.

Love, to give laws unto his subject hearts,
          Stood in the eyes of Bersabee the bright;
And in a look anon himself converts
          Cruelly pleasant before King David's sight:
First daz'd his eyes, then further forth he starts.
          With venom'd breath as softly as he might,
Touch'd his senses, and over-runs his bones
With creeping fire, sparpled for the nones.

[CVIII, 1-8]

Thus fatally seduced by the allurement of his senses,

And all forgot the wisdom and forecast,
Which, woe to realms! when that their kings do lack,

[CVIII, 17-18]

David adopts the guilty measure which gives him possession of his mistress: but afterwards being admonished by the Prophet of the enormity of his offence, he is struck with horror at it, and casting his crown of gold, and his purple pall, and his sceptre to the ground, and renouncing all

The pompous pride of state and dignity,

[CVIII, 49]

he retires to a dark and lonesome cave, taking nothing with him but his harp, to which he sings his several Penitential Psalms in succession.

In the two opening lines of the prologue, we trace evident marks of imitation from Petrarch; but the whole contrivance seems to have been borrowed from a piece of Beza's, entitled, ‘a Poetical Preface to David's Penitential Psalms.’²⁹ Wyatt has much abridged it; but all the leading circumstances are the same, as a few lines from the opening of Beza's Introduction will suffice to shew.

Forte perreratis cœlo, terrâque, marique,
Alex Amor, sacras Judææ callidus urbes
Visebat, pharetrâque minas, flammataque gestans
Tela manu. Jamque hospitium sedemque petebat
Venturæ nocti; dumque acres undique versat
Sæpe oculos, dubitatque etiam quâ sede moretur,
Tandem ad Bersabes convertit lumina formam.

Then deeming Bersabe's eyes to be the place most fit for his abode;

                                        ———pharetrâque, arcuque relictis
Aëreum sumit corpus, mirabile dictu!
Sic indutus Amor, formosam hinc, inde, puellam
Observat tacitus furtim, tandemque repertis
Sese oculis infert claroque in lumine condit.(30)

In the prologues which connect the several Psalms, we find many passages well conceived and not inelegantly expressed. The prologue to the fifty-first Psalm opens with this simile.

          Like as the pilgrim that in a long way
                    Fainting for heat, provoked by somewind,
          At some fresh shade lieth down at mid of day;
                    So of David the wearied voice and mind
          Takes breath of sighs, when he had sung his lay
                    Under such shade as sorrow had assigned:
And as the one still minds his voyage end,
So doth the other to mercy still pretend.

[CVIII, 395-402]³¹

In the prologue to the hundred and forty-third Psalm, having mentioned Redemption, Wyatt presents us with the following animated passage, of which the conception is noble throughout, though there are one or two expressions in it we could wish altered.

This word ‘Redeem’, that in his mouth did sound,
          Did put David, it seemeth unto me,
As in a trance to stare upon the ground,
          And with his thought the height of heaven to see,
Where he beholds ‘the word’ that should confound
          The word of death, by humble ear to be(32)
Of mortal maid, in mortal habit made;
Eternal life, in mortal veil to shade.
He seeth that word, when time full ripe should come,
          Do 'way that veil, by fervent affection,
Torn off with death (for death shall have her doom)
          And leap lighter from such corruption.

[CVIII, 695-706]

From all these passages it is evident that though Wyatt's Paraphrase has defects which will prevent it from being ever a popular performance, it bears marks of no common intellect and vigour of mind. It is the work of one who had read much and thought more; of one who loved virtue and aspired to heavenly things; a work that will be highly esteemed by all, who entertain a just sense of the misery of guilt, and, to borrow Surrey's expression, ‘covet Christ to know.’³³

The fate which has awaited Wyatt's Satires is somewhat remarkable, and deserves to be noticed. They are unquestionably his happiest and most finished productions. They may be ranked among the best satires in our language; and yet they never seem to have obtained either admirers or imitators; at least I do not recollect that any of our early writers have spoken of them in particular with commendation. This, I apprehend, may be easily accounted for. Wyatt had outstripped, as it were, his times. A taste for delicate satire cannot be general until refinement of manners is general likewise; and society is brought to that state which allows of the development of foibles in character, and encourages philosophical inquiry into the motives and principles of human actions. As long as society is in a state of incipient refinement only, satire ever will be, and ever has been, coarse, personal, and indiscriminating; for the beauty of general allusions cannot then be felt; and few will be found enlightened enough to comprehend that the legitimate object of satiric poetry is not to humble an individual, but to improve the species.

What the prevailing notion of satire was in England in Wyatt's time may be ascertained by referring to the writings of Skelton, his contemporary. It is true indeed that Skelton's mode of writing has long been justly deemed almost a term of reproach; but when he wrote he was esteemed the best satiric poet of his age. I will adduce a few specimens of his style. In his satire on the Scots he thus speaks of the Duke of Albany.

By your Duke of Albany,
We set not a prane;
By such a drunke Drane,
We set not a mite,
By such a coward Knight;
Such a proud pailliard;
Such a skyr-galliard;
Such a stark coward;
Such a proud poltron;
Such a foul coystron;
Such a doughty dog-swain;
Send him to France again,
To bring with him more train.

In another place we have the following lines.

Sir Duke, nay, Sir Duck,
Sir Drake of the Lake, Sir Duck
Of the dunghill, for small luck
Ye have in feats of war,
Ye make not but ye mar:
Ye are a false entruster,
And a false abuser,
And an untrue knight;
Thou hast too little might
Against England to fight, & c.

In one of his latest poems he has these lines on Cardinal Wolsey.

Such a prelate I trow,
Were worthy to row,
Through the straights of Marock,
To the gibbet of Baldock:
For with us he so mells,
That within England dwells,
I would he were somewhere else;
For else by and bye,
He will drink us so dry,
And suck us so nigh,
That men shall scantly
Have penny or halfpenny.
God save his noble Grace,
And grant him a place,
Endless to dwell
With the devil of hell:
For an he were there
We need never fear
Of the fiend's black:
For I undertake,
He would so brag and cracke,
That he would then make
The devil to quake,
To shudder and to shake,
Like a fire-drake,
And with a coal rake,
Bruise them on a brake,
And bind them to a stake,
And set all hell on fire,
At his own desire,
He is such a grim sire.

All these passages are unquestionably below criticism. But that is not the conclusion we are aiming at. The age that could admire them may be well supposed incompetent to taste, or decide upon the merits of Wyatt's more classic satires. It is no wonder therefore that they should have been neglected at the time, and afterwards have become almost forgotten; so that when Hall published his own satires, more than fifty years after, he described himself to be the first who had attempted that branch of composition in England.

I first adventure, follow me who list,
And be the second English satirist.(34)

Hall's unblemished character leaves us no reason to doubt his word. We may conclude him therefore to have never heard of Wyatt's satires, or, from what he had heard, to have been deterred from reading them. A plain proof that their value had never been understood. In point of merit they are superior even to Hall's satires. Hall is too general and diffuse; he had evidently no deeper knowledge of mankind than the reading of the Classics supplied, or had been obtained from a partial view of human nature at the University, and during occasional visits to London; his learning, his piety, and sense of religion gave the rest. But Wyatt writes with a thorough insight into the human heart. His knowledge is his own, not gleaned from books, but actual observation. His remarks therefore are deep and penetrating, and will be found more and more just in proportion as they are studied.

The first [CV] of Wyatt's satires in point of time is, I apprehend, that on the Courtier's Life. It is a translation, or rather a free and masterly imitation of Alamanni's tenth satire to Thomaso Sertini, which begins,

Io vi dirò poi che d' udir vi cale.(35)

From Alamanni, Wyatt took likewise his form of stanza, the Terza Rima, which he has employed in his two other satires; and, what was of greater importance, he borrowed from him his particular style likewise; a style which the Italian critics have censured as being somewhat more elevated than is, strictly speaking, suited to satiric poetry. Certainly on light occasions it is not sufficiently natural or playful: it wants that character of easy insinuation which has been so well described of old;

Omne vafer vitium ridenti Flaccus amico
Tangit, et admissus circum præcordia, ludit.

At the same time we must allow it to be well adapted to the expression of elevated sentiments, particularly in those passages which mark a generous contempt of vice and folly.

Wyatt's second Satire [CVI] on the ‘Mean and sure Estate’³⁶ seems to have been suggested by Horace's story of the Town and Country Mouse, which Wyatt relates in a new and lively manner of his own; subjoining to it moral reflection, in a high strain of philosophic reasoning upon the beauty and dignity of virtue.³⁷

The third Satire [CVII], ‘How to use the Court’,³⁸ is evidently an imitation of Horace's fifth Satire of the second book.

Hoc quoque Teresia præter narrata petenti, & c.

But it is one of those imitations which entitle to all the praise of originality, Wyatt is indebted to Horace for little more than general ideas. The particular subject to which the Satire is applied is different, and so likewise are the actors. In fact Wyatt cannot be said to have borrowed any one thought distinctly from Horace. His thoughts seem to have been rather excited by reading the Latin Satirist than taken from him. I will explain my meaning by an instance.

In Horace we meet with the following ironical direction. ‘If,’ says Tiresias, ‘one of those who have been named in the same will with you, should happen to have a dangerous cough, offer to make over to him, provided he be older than yourself, at his own price, any part of your legacy he may wish to purchase.’ This mode of flattery is not obvious: at all events the experiment would be a dangerous one; and few would be disposed to try it. Wyatt has caught the thought, but with incomparably greater shrewdness and penetration has given it another form.

          Some time also rich Age begin'th to dote.
See thou, when there thy gain may be the more,
          Stay him by the arm whereso he walk or go.
          Be near alway, and if he cough too sore,
What he hath spit tread out, and please him so.

[CVII, 51-5]

In what a lively dramatic manner does this last direction describe the mean servility of the parasite, in hiding from his feeble patron the near approach of death! and how forcibly does it put before us the childish pusillanimity of the rich old dotard, clinging to life with all its miseries, as the only state of existence he had ever thought of, or desired.

When we turn from this general view of Wyatt's Satires, to consider particular passages, we shall be struck with the opening to the Satire, ‘Of the mean and sure estate.’ It is very artificially contrived, as it immediately excites interest, by placing before us a circumstance of antient simple manners, highly descriptive of the tranquillity of domestic life; thus predisposing the mind to acquiesce in the moral reflections which were afterwards to be drawn from the story.

My mother's maids when they do sit and spin,
          They sing sometimes a song made of the Field Mouse;
          Who, for because her livelihood was but thin,
Would needs go seek her townish sister's house.

[CVI, 1-4]

The reflections themselves are conceived in the generous spirit of an exalted morality, and are expressed with force and dignity.

Alas, my Poynz! how men do seek the best
          And find the worst, by error as they stray.
          And no marvel; when sight is so oppress'd,
And blind the guide, anon out of the way
          Goeth guide and all———(39)
          O! wretched minds! there is no gold that may
Grant that ye seek; no war, no peace, no strife;
          No! no! although thy head were hoop'd with gold.
          Sergeant with mace, halberd, sword, nor knife
Cannot repulse the care that follow should.

[CVI, 70-9]

The classical allusions in this passage are so obvious they need not be pointed out; but we may observe that they lose nothing by being accommodated to the circumstances of Wyatt's own times. The Lictor, and his fasces, would have presented but a trite allusion to commonplace learning, and could not have produced any great effect upon the mind: but the King surrounded by all the pomp and circumstance of power, his head, ‘hooped with gold’, and the serjeant of his guard, with the various insignia of his office, keeping watch over the entrance to the presence chamber, yet unable to exclude the intrusion of care and sorrow, and mental suffering, present a picture the truth and beauty of which cannot but be felt by every one.

The conclusion to the same Satire is in a strain of thought even still more solemn and dignified; imitated indeed, but enlarged and much improved from the philosophic Persius, who closes his third Satire with these spirited lines.

Magne Pater divum, sævos punire tyrannos
Haud aliâ ratione velim, cum dira libido
Moverit ingenium ferventi tincta veneno,
Virtutem videant intabescantique relictâ.

Wyatt thus expresses himself.

Henceforth, my Poynz, this shall be all and sum:
          These wretched fools shall have nought else of me.
          But to the great God, and to his high doom,
None other pain pray I for them to be,
          But that, when rage doth lead them from the right,
          Then looking backward, Virtue they may see
Even as she is, so goodly fair and bright.
          And when they clasp their lusts in arms across,
          Grant them, good Lord, as thou may'st of thy might,
To fret inward for losing such a loss.

[CVI, 103-12]

In the Satire on the Courtier's Life, Wyatt gives us the following natural and pleasing picture of himself. Having described his occupations at Allington Castle, and congratulated himself that he was neither in France or Flanders, where sensuality alone was studied; nor yet in Spain, where those who wish to thrive must incline themselves,

Rather than to be, outwardly to seem;

[CV, 92]

Nor yet in Italy,

                    —where Christ is given in prey
For money, poison, and trahison, at Rome
A common practice, used night and day.

[CV, 97-9]

He adds;

But here I am in Kent, and Christendom,
          Among the Muses; where I read and rhyme.
          Where, if thou list, mine own John Poynz, to come,
Thou shalt be judge how I do spend my time.

[CV, 100-3]

The conclusion to the last Satire ‘How to use the Court’, addressed to Sir Francis Bryan, is singularly happy. He points out to him in a strain of fine irony the different arts by which he might attain to wealth and power, and bids him above all things avoid Truth, as that was the most unprofitable thing imaginable, and tells him to use Virtue as it went then a-days,

In word alone, to make his language sweet.

[CVII, 38]

This premised, he proceeds to give him more particular directions for the advancement of his fortunes, and suggests among other things, that if he should have a niece, a cousin, sister, or even a daughter, whom a great man should solicit, though dishonestly, he ought without any foolish scruple,

Advance his cause, and he shall help thy need:
It is but Love; turn thou it to a laughter.

[CVII, 71-2]

Perceiving however that his friend, instead of listening to his advice, treats it with contempt, he suddenly interrupts himself, and asks in a lively dramatic manner,

Laugh'st thou at me? Why! do I speak in vain?
          ‘No, not at thee, but at thy thrifty jest.
          Wouldst thou I should for any loss or gain
Change that for gold, which I have ta'en for best?
          Next godly things to have an honest name!
          Should I leave that, then take me for a beast.’
Nay then farewell! an' if thou care for shame,
          Content thee then with honest poverty;
          With free tongue what thee mislikes to blame,
And for thy Truth some time adversity;
          And therewithal, this gift I shall thee give,
          In this world now little prosperity,
And coin to keep, as water in a sieve.

[CVII, 79-91]

It was not possible for Wyatt to have paid his friend an higher or a more natural compliment, or at the same time to have marked more pointedly his own detestation of the arts by which he saw dishonest men rising into favour at Court.

From the consideration of Wyatt's merits thus generally, in point of composition, we turn next to consider his language and style of versification.

Wyatt's versification when he first began to write was evidently rhythmical, and differed in no essential point from that of either Hawes or Barclay, or the other writers, who preceded him. This will be evident from the following lines, as they occur in all the printed copies.

But death were deliverance ″ and life length of pain.
          Of two ills lest see ″ now chuse the least.
This bird to deliver ″ you that hear her playne,
          Your advice you Lovers ″ which shall be best!

And again;

Mine old dear enemy, ″ my froward mastèr,
          Afore that Queen I caused ″ to be accited
Which holdeth the divine ″ part of natùre,
          That like as gold in fire ″ he might be trièd.

[VIII, 1-4]

But the conclusive proof of Wyatt's having had rhythmical verse in contemplation is to be drawn from his manuscript, where we find him marking the Cæsura in his own hand-writing; and sometimes the mode of disposing of the redundant syllable, so as to preserve the rhythm of the verse; as in the following instances.

I am in hold: if pity thee meveth.

[I, 10]

Go bend thy bow: that stony hearts breaketh:

[I, 11]

Right at her ease: and little thee dreadeth.

[I, 5]

Weapon'd thou art: and she unarm'd sitteth:

[I, 6]

So chanceth it oft: that every passion.

[III, 9]

hsh hsh
Disdainful doubleness × have I for my hire.

[V, 6]

hsh
O cruel causer of underserved change:

[V, 13]

hsh

In the pieces that were written by him at a later period of his life, Wyatt seems to have adopted the Iambic form of verse, which Surrey's better taste had by that time introduced. We find him also paying a greater attention to the variety of his pauses; aiming likewise at studied involution of sentence, and borrowing particular idioms from the Italian, instead of the French writers, with whom he appears to have been at first most conversant.⁴⁰ But his early habits were so strong, that in what he attempted he was not always successful. His versification to the last was disfigured by verses, which being formed on the old rhythmical system were either defective or redundant, and could not be reduced to harmony without the use of the Cæsura in the middle, and the pause at the end of the line. He retained likewise the use of the French pronunciation in those words which were derived originally from that language; and he flung a strong and heavy accent on final syllables, which renders it now difficult for us to read some passages of his poems with pleasure, or trace in them any of that beauty, which as they were once commended, we must suppose them to have once possessed. Such are the following lines:

So chaunceth it oft that every passions
          The mind hideth by colour contrarys
          With feigned visage now sad, now merys,
Whereby if I laugh any time or seasons, & c.

[III, 9-12]

This remark, however, applies to Wyatt's heroic verses rather than to those written in shorter measure; which being not so studied are often simple, fluent, and harmonious. Of his versification in the octosyllabic measure the following passages may serve as specimens. The reader's taste and selection will readily supply more.

          Blame not my Lute, for it must sound
                    Of this, or that, as pleaseth me.
          For lack of wit the Lute is bound
                    To give such tunes as pleaseth me.
Though my songs be somewhat strange,
And speak such words as touch thy change,
                                                            Blame not my Lute.(41)

[CCV, 1-7]

The following lines boast more merit than that of fluency alone.

          And when in mind I did consent
                    To follow this, my fancy's will;
          And when my heart did first relent
                    To taste such bait, my life to spill,
I would my heart had been as thine,
Or else thy heart had been as mine.

[CCLII, 19-24]

Not that Wyatt's heroic verses are always wanting in either elegance or harmony. The following lines are musical and fluent.

Wherefore, O Lord, as thou has done alway,
          Teach me the hidden wisdom of thy lore.

[CVIII, 466-7]

So are these likewise, though they retain a certain character of gravity.

Thou place of sleep, wherein I do but wake,
Besprent with tears, my bed! I thee forsake.

[CLXXXVII, 6-7]

Wyatt sometimes attains to that terseness and compression which reminds us of Dryden's happiest manner; as in the following line.

Their tongues reproach, their wit did fraud supply.

[CVIII, 371]

And again,

He granteth most to them that most do crave.

[CVIII, 719]

In which, and in many other similar lines, we find a good model of the heroic verse.

When he attempted involution, Wyatt was not always happy. In the following lines the sense is obscured and injured by it.

O Lord! since my mouth thy mighty name
          Suff'reth itself my Lord to name and call.

[CVIII, 73-4]

And again,

The pompous pride of state and dignity
          Forthwith rebates repentant humbleness.

[CVIII, 49-50]

In the use of his pauses he is more successful.

I, Lord, am strayed; I, sick without recure,
          Feel all my limbs that have rebell'd, for fear
          Shake—in despair unless thou me assure.

[CVIII, 97-9]

And thus in another place;

Perceiving thus the tyranny of sin,
          That with his weight hath humbled and depress'd
          My pride; by grudging of the worm within
That never dieth—I live withouten rest.

[CVIII, 349-52]

From these passages, therefore, we are warranted in concluding that Wyatt when he wrote his latter pieces understood the principles of correct versification; and that, had he lived to revise what he had written, he probably would have corrected all the faults of his early style.

In point of language Wyatt does not seem to have done as much, or to have made as many improvements as might have been expected. A far greater number of antiquated words, and obsolete forms of speech are to be found in his writings, than in Surrey's; which is the more remarkable, as he enjoyed the same advantage which Surrey did, of living in the Court, and conversing continually with the great.⁴² It was a circumstance indeed in favour of the latter, that he began to write a few years later than Wyatt did. The interval it is true was not greater than perhaps ten or fifteen years; but even that interval was of importance when the change had been once begun, and things were tending rapidly towards improvement. It operated much to Wyatt's disadvantage, that he translated early from several languages. This, unavoidably gave an uncertainty and a want of precision to his style, which might have been avoided had he proposed to himself only one author as his model. He seems also not to have studied with any definite view the writers in his own language. For though it is evident that he had read Chaucer, and admired him, his imitations are neither frequent, nor of a description to make us suppose that he took him as his master, or considered him to be ‘the well-head of English undefiled.’⁴³ In both these points Surrey acted with better taste, and obtained more successful results. He directed his attention to Chaucer and Petrarch exclusively, choosing the one as the model for his style in composition; the other as the ground-work of his language. It is to this cause principally, that the greater uniformity of Surrey's language is to be attributed. That the superiority should have been so great as it is, still remains a matter of surprise, because Wyatt and Surrey studied much together; and were in the habit of communicating their compositions to one another. They appear to have sometimes chosen purposely the same subject, for the sake probably of experiment, and friendly competition. Thus Surrey's sonnet,

Love that liveth and reigneth in my breast,

and Wyatt's, which begins

The long love that in my thought doth harbour,

[IV]

were written as a sort of exercise of style; as were also Surrey's little ode,

As oft as I behold and see,

and Wyatt's ode, preserved among the Harleian MSS. which begins,

Like as the wind with raging blast;

[CCXLV]

for there is in reality no difference between those two poems, except that which arises from the difference of style, peculiar to their respective writers.

A further proof of their community of study may be drawn from their frequent imitations of one another. The Paraphrase of the Seven Penitential Psalms alone supplies a sufficient number of parallel passages to establish the fact. Wyatt thus describes David immersed in thought.

And whilst he ponder'd these things in his heart
His knee his arm, his hand sustain'd his chin.

[CVIII, 661-2]

Surrey thus describes himself, when lost in contemplating the objects below him from his prison.

When Windsor walls sustained my wearied arm
My hand, my chin, to ease my restless head.

Surrey thus paints his grief for the loss of his friend;

The tears berain my cheeks of deadly hue,
The which as soon as sobbing sighs, alas!
Upsupped have, thus I my plaint renew.

Wyatt thus represents David's sorrow,

Else had the wind blown in all Israel's ears
The woeful plaint, and of their King the tears;
Of which some part when he upsupped had
          …
He turns his look, & c.

[CVIII, 417-19, 421]

Again; in one of Wyatt's smaller odes we meet with the following thought;

Such hammers work within my head
          That sound nought else into my ears.

which thought Surrey has adopted when speaking of Wyatt himself;

A head where wisdom mysteries did work,
Whose hammers beat still in that lively brain.

These instances make it clear that Wyatt and Surrey studied much together; and as we find that Wyatt's later pieces bear a nearer resemblance to Surrey's than those which were written by him at an early period, it is probable that their style would ultimately have been as nearly the same as the style of two poets of original genius ever can be. As they now stand, Wyatt's style, when compared with Surrey's, must be deemed rude and unformed. And, indeed, that Wyatt was generally considered inferior to Surrey as a writer, is evident from this, that though he is often highly commended, he is but little imitated; we find, therefore, that while the works of succeeding authors abound with passages either imitated from Surrey, or modelled upon his principles of composition, few comparatively speaking, occur borrowed from Wyatt.

And now, after what has been said of the particular merits of these two great reformers of our language, and fathers of modern English poetry, it will be easy to form a comparison between them.

They were men whose minds, may be said to have been cast in the same mould; for they differ only in those minuter shades of character which always must exist in human nature; shades of difference so infinitely varied, that there never were and never will be two persons in all respects alike. In their love of virtue, and their instinctive hatred and contempt of vice; in their freedom from personal jealousy; in their thirst after knowledge, and intellectual improvement; in nice observation in nature, promptitude to action, intrepidity, and fondness for romantic enterprise; in magnificence and liberality; in generous support of others, and high-spirited neglect of themselves; in constancy in friendship, and tender susceptibility of affections of a still warmer nature, and in every thing connected with sentiment and principle, they were one and the same; but when those qualities branch out into particulars, they will be found in some respects to differ.

Wyatt had a deeper and a more accurate penetration into the characters of men than Surrey had: hence arises the difference in their Satires. Surrey in his satire against the citizens of London, deals only in reproach; Wyatt, in his, abounds with irony, and those nice touches of ridicule which make us ashamed of our faults, and therefore often silently effect amendment.

Surrey's observation of nature was minute, but he directed it towards the works of nature in general, and the movements of the passions, rather than to the foibles and the characters of men; hence it is that he excels in the description of rural objects, and is always tender and pathetic. In Wyatt's complaints we hear a strain of manly grief which commands attention; and we listen to it with respect for the sake of him that suffers. Surrey's distress is painted in such natural terms, that we make it our own, and recognize in his sorrows, emotions which we are conscious of having felt ourselves.

In the point of taste, and perception of propriety in composition, Surrey is more accurate and just than Wyatt; he therefore seldom either offends with conceits, or wearies with repetition; and he imitates other poets, he is original as well as pleasing. In his numerous translations from Petrarch, he is seldom inferior to his master; and he sometimes improves upon him. Wyatt is almost always below the Italian, and frequently degrades a good thought by expressing it so, that it is hardly recognisable. Had Wyatt attempted a translation of Virgil as Surrey did, he would have exposed himself to unavoidable failure.⁴⁴

But though in all these points Wyatt confessedly ranks below Surrey, and though his works have not produced as general an effect upon our literature as Surrey's have done, still we owe him much. He was the first English writer who can be said to have aimed at any thing like legitimate style in prose. His two letters to his son, formed on the model of Seneca's Epistles, are grave and sententious, and often exhibit well constructed periods, and a graceful flow of language. In his Oration, his style is even still more varied and artificial. In some places it is grave and dignified; in others it is terse and pointed, and admirably well suited to sarcasm and satire;⁴⁵ when to this we add that Wyatt was the first in point of time to draw our attention to classic composition;⁴⁶ and reflect, that he taught succeeding writers to give refinement of thought to amatory strains, and that he led the way to genuine satire, though his own age was not refined enough to profit by the example; we must allow that he is entitled to an ample share of praise and admiration.⁴⁷

I hope it will not be objected to these expressions, that they tend to give a greater importance to the writers of a few obscure Songs and Sonnets at the beginning of the sixteenth century, than can with any propriety, be claimed for them. That those writers have remained so long obscure is a sort of reproach upon our literature: that the general question connected with their works is of importance, what scholar, or what reflecting person will venture to deny?

There is no subject of inquiry connected with human learning, that can be presented to the mind more interesting than what concerns the progress of improvement in language. For as reason, next to the capacity of immortality, with which it is interwoven, is the most precious gift that has been bestowed on man; and as it is language that endows reason with efficacy, he who labours to improve, enlarge, and fix the language of any country; he who by adding to its graces and its harmony adapts it to the purposes of poetry; and by giving it strength and precision, makes it adequate to the higher purposes of science, is entitled to public gratitude, as well as commendation.

This the wisdom of antiquity discerned; and therefore conferred liberal honours upon all, who, by improving language, promoted the common interests of society. Surely if in Egypt, or in Greece, those who first invented, or afterwards increased the number of letters were ranked among the tutelary deities of nations; if statues were erected and public honours decreed to such as contrived new measures in poetic composition, or added to the compass of the lyre, it would be injustice no less than insensibility in us to deem it an idle speculation only, whether Surrey and Wyatt are entitled to the praise which is here claimed for them.

In the long interval that had elapsed between Chaucer and themselves, the English language had not advanced in elegance, perspicuity, copiousness, or strength. To this cause chiefly was it owing, that during the above period no works were written of any account in our native tongue, either in history, poetry, morals, or science. Genius was not extinct among us; but our language not seconding exertion, exertion was discontinued. What was written in one generation, was difficult to be understood in the next; and was therefore soon to be superseded by something more intelligible.

The inconveniences arising from this uncertain state of our language Surrey and Wyatt perceived, and applied themselves to remedy. That they did much towards fixing it, the most careless observer must allow. That they did not effect more, is no fault imputable to them. Had not an untimely death taken Wyatt away just as his taste and judgment were matured; and had not the unrelenting jealousy of political intrigue cut Surrey off in the vigor of his youth, there seems no reason to doubt but that they would have perfected their undertaking: and having revised and polished the works they had written, and undertaken others of a larger scope, and such as might have called forth all the powers of their mind, they probably would have fixed, even then, the standard of our language, and have placed it beyond the reach of those changes to which after their death it was exposed. For from the time the noble Surrey fell beneath the hand of oppression, until Spenser appeared, no poet arose equal to the task of finishing what he and Wyatt had begun; and even of Spenser himself it must be allowed, that he did less than might have been expected from his genius and his learning.⁴⁸

On this ground, therefore, our regret at the untimely fate of those two great reformers of our language cannot be deemed ill-founded; neither ought the praise bestowed upon them to be condemned as a blind prepossession in favour of antiquity.

Accustomed from infancy to hear our native tongue spoken as it now is finally settled, and adapted to all the purposes of learned as well as civil life; capable alike of expressing elevated ideas with dignity, and things familiar with elegance, we are hardly qualified to judge of the extent of the benefit conferred upon us by those who rescued it from its original rudeness and deformity. But, if we consider the case as it occurred in another country, we shall be able to appreciate the value of what was done in our own.

What was it that gave at the time, and still continues to give so much importance to the writings of Petrarch? It was not that he wrote feelingly and tenderly of love; though he himself seems to have considered that as the reason why he was so much honoured and admired;⁴⁹ but because he had taught Italy the use and the power of its native tongue. Before his time the common language of the country, the ‘Volgare Lingua’, was not thought competent of any of the higher purposes of learning or of business. It was deemed suited to domestic uses only. If ideas of more than ordinary refinement were to be expressed, or transactions of importance recorded, recourse was had to the Latin. This produced much inconvenience. The end proposed could not be answered but with labour and trouble; and after all, the lower and the middle orders of society were excluded from a knowledge of things, in which, nevertheless, they had a common interest with persons of a more exalted rank. But when once Petrarch had shewn them that the ‘Volgare Lingua’ was capable of such improvement as would render it equal to any exertion that could be required of language; when the lover learnt that he could address his mistress in his own tongue with an elegance, to which the Poets of Provence alone were deemed capable of attaining; and when princes found that they could discuss all points of business with ease and precision, without the intervention of the dead languages, the astonishment of the nation at large was equal to its delight. The effect produced upon them was similar to that which music is said to have on savage nations the first time they hear the sweetness of modulated sounds. They seemed to awake as from sleep; they felt as if some new intellectual power had been discovered; and the faculty of reason itself became of greater importance to them; for they felt that from that period they had the means of perpetuating all the operations and conclusions of their minds, and by fixing past discoveries, proceed step by step to future;

Sì che 'l piè fermo sempre era 'l piè basso.

Under these circumstances, therefore, what wonder was it that a single sonnet addressed by Petrarch, in his harmonious and expressive language, to any of the princes of his times, should have been received as a present more precious than gold; and that kings and emperors should have united to court the favour of a man, whose writings were about to form an epoch in the history of their country.

It is true that the change effected by Wyatt and Surrey in our own country was not of equal magnitude; still they did much. Take the quaint and unharmonious periods of the prose writers who preceded Wyatt, and compare them with the terse and fluent style of his oration before the Privy Council: read the lifeless attempts to express passion in Hawes and Skelton, and contrast them with the elegance and pathos of Surrey's tender muse. If the comparison be fairly and impartially made, no one, I think, will censure me as claiming too much for Wyatt and Surrey when I say, that they are entitled to the same sort of respect among us, that Italy has long since bestowed upon Petrarch. Not that they are equal to him in point of beauty; but that they wrote with similar views, and went far to accomplish the same object.⁵⁰

And let it not be objected either to Wyatt or Surrey, that they devoted so large a portion of their writings to describe the hopes and the fears, the enjoyments and the disappointments of love. It has ever been so in the history of all nations. Love the most universal, is the most importunate of all the affections of the mind; it will make itself felt; and when felt, will press forward for utterance, whilst every other passion is either unheard, or silent.⁵¹

This, however, is not without benefit to the world at large. Men are for the most part won to intellectual pursuits by the early fascinations of pathetic and amatory poetry; having thus acquired a taste for letters, they are easily led afterwards step by step to the attainment of solid learning, which, had it been proposed to them at the commencement under the severe aspect of science, might have repressed the rising ardour of inquiry. It is the verdant meadow, and the gentle acclivity, studded with flowers, and watered with rivulets at the bottom of the mountain, that first induces us to undertake the laborious task of climbing to its airy top: the outset is pleasurable, and the amusement we receive beguiles our toil; as we advance the ascent is more difficult, but by this time habit has reconciled us to exertion: the air grows purer and fresher the higher we proceed; the space we have already measured gives us strength and spirits to encounter what remains, until at length we reach the highest summit, and then looking down with complacency on the difficulties surmounted, smile as we contemplate far below us the flowery paths that first caught our attention.

Thus much may be urged in the defence of all those poets, who like Surrey and Wyatt have made love the chief subject of their strains; but then like them they must have described love under the form, in which alone it can be recognized by good and honourable minds; as a passion free alike from effeminacy and libertinism, moving under the controul of reason, and making itself subservient to the real happiness and moral improvement of our being.

There never have been wanting writers, indeed, who, abusing talents bestowed upon them for better purposes, delight to describe passion in its worst and most offensive form; who are either base enough to solicit desire; or dwell with horrid complacency on characters in which love, if such an abuse of the term can be allowed, is found coupled with violence and rapine, and daring contempt of moral rectitude, and savage promptitude to deeds of murder and revenge.

But Surrey and Wyatt were not writers of that description. Had they been such, I should not have come forward to claim for them an honourable place in the literature of their country; or the attempt, I trust, would have proved abortive.

As for those writers who set at defiance all the sound and sober laws of chaste composition, and in their affectation of singularity, and love of popular applause, offend against the very principles of moral feeling; of them we will indulge an hope, that calmer thoughts, and maturer reflection may yet reclaim them to efforts more worthy of their talents and themselves, and such as shall give them a fair claim to lasting celebrity. Should we be disappointed in that hope, we will wait in patience until the time come, for come it will (would! that it were arrived already) when looking back dispassionately upon past illusions, we shall be astonished to think that the seductions of fashion, and the prevalence of a corrupt taste, had ever led us to tolerate writings of pestilential example; shall tremble to reflect that we suffered the unsuspecting ear of youth and female purity, to be assailed by strains breathing sentiments which no sophistry can palliate, no plea of passion excuse; and, with the burning blush of shame, erase the very names of such as wrote them from that bright list of authors, of whom alone the literature of any country can with justice be proud; of those, who have made Poetry the graceful handmaid and attendant upon Religion; who have engaged our feelings on the side of Virtue; and approved themselves to be, like the honoured Bard of old, the faithful guardians of domestic innocence, and the morals of the age.⁵²

Notes

1. (Dante's Seven Penitential Psalms appear to have been first published by Spira at the end of the Comedia, in folio, at Venice in 1477, They were afterwards printed in 1478 at Milan, in folio likewise. Quadrio republished them in 8vo. at Milan in 1752, with notes. Which edition has been incorporated by Zatta into his complete edition of Dante's works in 4to. at Venice in 1758. Alamanni's Penitential Psalms were written in 1525, though they were not printed it should seem until 1532, when they appeared at the end of a volume of his Poems published that year at Lyons; and afterward, in the more complete edition of his works, printed in two volumes, at Venice, in 1542. They are to be found also in the ‘Racolta di Salmi Penitenziali di diversi eccellenti Autori’, published by Francesco da Trevigi at Venice in 1568, and again in 1572, and in the second book of Rime Spirituali printed at Venice, in 1550. Both Dante and Alamanni used the Terza Rima. Dante aims at being literal. Alamanni is paraphrastic. Wyatt's Paraphrase bears no marks of having been imitated from either. [Since Nott wrote the source of Wyatt's poems has been found, by Arundell Esdaile, in Aretino's prose Sette Salmi. It is probable however that he was also influenced by the terza rima of the Italian poets, particularly Alamanni, whom Nott mentions.])

2. That Wyatt knew and imitated Greek is highly questionable. His prose translation of Plutarch came to him via the Latin of Budé, and no poem of his appears to be modelled on a Greek original.

3. Though Wyatt was in Spain, and possibly influenced by Spanish Petrarchans, there is little direct evidence of a debt to any of them.

4. Aretino supplies Wyatt's prologues.

5. CV.

6. CVI and CVII. Nott overestimates the influence of the two Latin satirists.

7. (At the end of the Ode which begins,

   Where shall I have at mine own will,

   [LIII]

   as it occurs in the Harington MS. p. 65, Wyatt has subjoined in his own hand-writing,

   Podra ser che no es.

   It is probable that these words formed part of a Spanish piece which Wyatt had translated. Should this not have been the case, we may at least safely infer from the words that Wyatt wrote the poem in Spain.)

8. Rimas de Fernando de Herrera (Madrid), Vol. 1, p. 161. Nott's note (p. 347 in his edition) to Wyatt's poem shows that he realized the possibility that it derived from Giusto de' Conti's Italian Rime (1531). The Spanish, Italian and English poems all contain Petrarchan commonplaces, so that the matter of debts is difficult to estimate.

9. The original is by Sannazaro, not by Petrarch.

10. Nott refers to Wyatt's ‘I fynde no peace’ (XXVI), a translation of Petrarch's ‘Pace non trovo’.

11. (Boileau in his Art Poetique thus describes the Rondeau:

    Le Rondeau né Gaulois, a la naïveté.

    Chant. III. V. 140

    On which his commentator observes; ‘Ces petits Pöemes sont tout aussi difficiles à bien faire que le Sonnet, et n'ont pas des regles moins génantes. Le Naïf en fait d'ailleurs le caractere.’ The following is considered to be, if I mistake not, an elegant specimen of the amatory Rondeau.

    Le premier jour du mois de Mai,
    Fut le plus heureux de ma vie.
    Le beau projet que je formai,
              Le premier jour du mois de Mai!
    Si ce dessein vous plut, Silvie,
    Le premier jour du mois de Mai,
              Fut le plus heureux de ma vie.

    Wyatt must have read Marot's Rondeaus; they are almost all either playful, or satiric.)

12. An example is ‘Behold, love’ (I). In view of ‘If it be so’ (XVIII) a translation from a French rondeau, it is possible, even probable, that the substance of Petrarch reached Wyatt through a French intermediate version. The rondeau form he uses is, at any rate, that of French contemporaries such as Jean and Clément Marot.

13. Nott uses the term correctly, since the Italian canzone was considered the equivalent of the ‘larger’ classical ode. It is not certain, however, that Wyatt himself recognized it as a distinctive form.

14. (Grame means sorrow: it is derived from the Saxon, but it occurs with precisely the same meaning in the Italian. As in this passage from Dante;

    Ed una lupa, che di tutte brame
              Sembrava carca, con la sua magrezzea,
              E molte genti fè già viver grame.

    Inferno. Can. I. V. 49)

15. The source of this poem, in Bembo's ‘Voi mi poneste in foco’ in Gliasolani (1505), was not discovered till 1954. The two stanzas Nott quotes are particularly close to the original, to which Wyatt owes the complicated thought and precision he notes.

16. Qui giace Serafin! Partirti or puoi.
    Sol d'aver visto il sasso che lo serva,
    Assai sei debitore agli occhi tuoi.

    Serafino Cimino, generally known by the name of Serafino dell' Aquila, a town in Abruzzo, the place of his birth, was born in 1466. He died at Rome in 1500. Crescimbeni derives the word Strambotto from the Italian, ‘strambo’, in the sense of fantastical: the Strambotto being used to express strange and fantastical thoughts, and subtle conceits. Commentari, & c. Vol. I. Lib. III. Cap. iv.

17. (The title of the work whence this ænigma is taken, and that of the publication in which it is to be found are as follows: Colloquia duo elegantissima, alterum Sensus et Paupertatis quibus viva humanæ vitæ imago exprimatur; Joanne Artopæo Spirensi auctore. Ejusdem, Arbor Eruditionis, et in eandem Oratio. Quibus propter elegantiam singularem et argumenti affinitatem adjunximus Pandulphi Collinutti Pisaurensis Apologos; Agenoriam; Misopeniam; Alethiam; Bombardam; Herculi Estensi Ferrarensi Duci dicatos. Basiliæ; ex Officina Joannis Oporini Anno m.d.lxvii. Mense Maio.

    In the Apologue, called Bombarda, from which Wyatt's ænigma is taken, a person of the name of Phronimus is supposed to have built a city; and we are told, that being anxious to obtain for it the best means of defence possible, he went to consult on the subject with Heraclitus, called Scoteinos from the darkness of his answers. Heraclitus informs Phronimus that he would find what he wanted by looking into an egg. Unable to penetrate the meaning of this answer, Phronimus next goes to Diogenes the Cynic: who shews him a chesnut, and bids him take advice from that. This puzzles the poor man worse than ever, and makes him resolve to apply at once to Pallas herself. The Goddess hears his story, and replies by giving him the riddle in question, telling him that when he should be able to solve it, he would obtain the information he wished for. Phronimus quits the Goddess, delighted with her condescension, but not much edified by her answer; for he finds himself utterly unable to understand it. To conquer this new difficulty, he goes about consulting all the wise men he could hear of; but they are all unequal to the task: so that having wandered fruitlessly half the world over he begins to despair, when suddenly it comes into his head to consult Hercules: who very goodnaturedly tells him that the riddle was the simplest thing to be understood imaginable; and bids him listen to the interpretation of it. ‘In the beginning of time,’ said Hercules, ‘there was a mortal enmity between Nature and a certain person called Vacuum. Juno, Neptune and æolus took part with Nature, which made the contest so unequal, that Vacuum was on the point of being overpowered. In his distress he applied’, continued Hercules, ‘to Vulcan for assistance, who advised him to build a brazen house, without any window in it, and present it humbly as a peace-offering to Juno; having first taken the precaution to lay in a store of three different sorts of food at the bottom of the house; and to close the opening with stones: this done, Vulcan said he would steal in at the backdoor of the house, and introducing Vacuum along with him, afford him an opportunity of suddenly expelling Juno. Vacuum, pleased with the project, made the present to Juno, who incautiously accepted it and thus gave Vulcan and Vacuum the means of driving her before them out of the brazen house. Nature, however, hastened to Juno's assistance, and rushing into the house again with a noise like thunder, put an end to the existence of Vacuum in a moment; and confined Vulcan, for a punishment, in a flint prison, from which,’ said Hercules, ‘he can never be extricated, but by stripes of iron.’ Phronimus expresses his gratitude to Hercules for the trouble he had been at in explaining the riddle to him, but takes the liberty of suggesting, that he understood the explanation ten times less than the riddle itself. Hercules listens graciously to this modest representation on the part of Phronimus, and to remove all further difficulties gives him directions to make a gun, which not only explained to him the best mode of defending his town, but solved both Minerva's riddle and the prior answers of Heraclitus and Diogenes.)

18. LXXX. The story originates in Josephus's Jewish War, but in 1956 Wyatt's immediate source was discovered, by J. G. Fucilla, in an anonymous Italian strambotto.

19. CCXL.

20. CCLVII.

21. CIII.

22. (Naugerii Opera. Ed. Cominana, 4to. 1718. p. 221.)

23. See Nos 2h, 3a and 3b.

24. (That Wyatt's versification may not be thought more inharmonious than it really is, I must suggest that his lines ought to be read out loud. They would then be found to be constructed on regular principles, where they now seem altogether rude and licentious. The leading principles of Wyatt's versification, are three. I. He admits redundant syllables, which are to be disposed of in recitation, by forming them into feet, of which, either the first syllable is long and the two next short; like the dactyl of the Greeks and Romans; ❙ – ˘ ˘ ❙ or into feet, which may be called anapæsts; of which the first two syllables are short, and the third long. ❙ ˘ ˘ – ❙ II. He mixes feet, of which the first syllable is long, the second short; such as was the trochaic foot ❙ – ˘ ❙ with Iambic feet, or those of which the first syllable is short, the second long ❙ ˘ – ❙ III. He makes almost always a cæsura at the end of the fourth syllable. By attending to these rules, we shall not only read Wyatt's fluently, but feel them to possess an original and expressive flow of harmony. In the following lines the trochaic foot produces a fine effect.

    And rěcŏncile p thě grēat ❙ hātrěd ❙ ănd strife.

    [CVIII, 119]

    My strēngth ❙ faīlěth p to reach it at the full.

    [CVIII, 613]

    The redundant short syllables produce often a fine effect.

    Sūdděn ❙ cōnfŭsiŏn p as stroke without delay.

    [CVIII, 181]

    In the following line we find both the trochaic and the anapæstic foot; yet properly enounced, the verse is musical and pleasing;

    And found ❙ mērčy p at plen ❙ tĭfŭl mer ❙ cy's hand.

    [CVIII, 299])

25. Nott was not, of course, able to take into account the variations on the Psalms suggested to Wyatt by Aretino's paraphrase, which accounts, for example, for the substance of the italicized phrase in line 366.

26. The italicized phrase derives from Aretino's ‘il vero pane de la vita nostra’.

27. (Dante is as usual literal.

    Percosso io sono, come il fien ne' prati,
              Ed è già secco tutto lo mio core,
              Perchè li cibi miei non ho mangiati.

    Bishop Fisher, however, in his ‘treatise concerning the fruitful sayings of David on the Seven Penitential Psalms’, gives the same turn to the thought, that Wyatt does. ‘The soul in like manner is nourished with a certain meat; and if it refuse, and will not take that food, needs must it wax dry, and want good devotion. The proper meat for the soul is the word of God. Whosoever eateth not of his bread, shall wax lean in his soul, and at last wither, and come to nothing. Because, good Lord, I have not eaten this spiritual bread, I am blasted, and smitten with dryness like hay, having no devotion’ p. 192. Ed. 1714).

28. The source of the prologues and the narrative framework are supplied by Aretino. The following quotation of the opening lines is a translation of the beginning of his prologue to the first Penitential Psalm.

29. (Prefatio Poetica in Davidicos Psalmos quos pœnitentiales vocant. Theodori Bezæ Vezelii Poemata, Sylva, iv.)

30. Aretino again supplies the true source.

31. Free translation from Aretino's prologue to the fourth Penitential Psalm.

32. (Wyatt has borrowed this expression ‘by humble ear’, from the fortieth Psalm. ‘Sacrifice and meat-offering thou wouldest not; but mine ears hast thou opened.’ In which words allusion is made to the custom of passing a small sharp instrument through the ear of any one that became a voluntary servant; who by thus allowing himself to be fastened to the door post of the house, gave a pledge of his obedience to the master he had chosen. This was called to open the ear; ‘aures fodere, forare’. The custom was prevalent in the East, and upon it was founded Cicero's well known sarcasm on Octavius. For Octavius one day in the Senate said he could not hear Cicero, upon which he instantly retorted, ‘Certe solebas bene foratas habere aures’; intimating that he was, as Anthony reproached him with being, partly of African extraction. Macrobii, Satur. Lib. VII. Cap. 3. and Suetonii Vita Octavii, cap. 4. [For an alternative explanation, see Collected Poems, ed. Muir and Thomson, p. 388.])

33. (Warton tells us that Wyatt made a Version of the whole Psalter, and says it was a work distinct from the Paraphrase of the Penitential Psalms. In proof of this, he speaks of the commendations bestowed upon that version by both Surrey and Leland. But Surrey never commended any other Version by Wyatt from the Psalter than that of the Penitential Psalms. That the Sonnet he wrote on the subject applies to the Paraphrase of the Penitential Psalms alone, is clear from the circumstance of its being found in Wyatt's own hand-writing prefixed to his manuscript copy of that Paraphrase. The assertion therefore rests on the sole authority of Leland. His words are;

    Transtulit in nostram Davidis carmina linguam.

    This certainly might signify all David's Psalms, but it might also mean some of the Psalms only. In verse, people often are compelled to use general expressions, which, had they written in prose, they would have avoided. Certain it is, that if Leland in the passage above quoted alludes to a complete Version of the Psalms by Wyatt, distinct from the Paraphrase, then he has omitted to make any mention of the Paraphrase at all; which is hardly probable, seeing it was Wyatt's most laboured performance. It was ‘opus tersum, spectabile’: and one constructed ‘magna arte’, to use Leland's own words. If Wyatt therefore really did make a Version of the whole Book of Psalms, and rendered it a finished, perfect, and admirable work, it seems surprising that there should be no traces of it discoverable; especially as we have so large a number of Wyatt's poems preserved in his own MS. and in the Harington, and in the Duke of Devonshire's MSS. That Wyatt made a Version of particular Psalms we know. A Version of the Thirty-seventh Psalm will be found printed from the Harington MS. (XCIV); and the lines printed at page lxxxvi. note 2, were, I doubt not, the Proem to a Version of some other Psalm. [The page references are to Nott's edition.] But that he made an entire Version of the whole Psalter, cannot, I think, without further proof be admitted.)

34. (See the Prologue to Hall's Virgidemiarum, or Satires in Six Books. In his Postscript, he tells us, that of modern satires he had never seen any he ‘could use for his direction’ save Ariosto's, and one other ‘base French satire’. Hall honestly tells us that the motive which led him to write his satires was the hope of profit; and that he had given to them ‘only the broken messes of his twelve o'clock hours’. This will sufficiently account for the generalities, in which he deals. Warton seems to have been particularly fond of Hall. He reprinted his satires in a neat form at Oxford, in 1753; and devoted no less than three sections in the fourth volume of his History of English Poetry to a particular consideration of them. Hall's satires are certainly entitled to much praise; they are the work of an elegant, a poetic, and a virtuous mind: they shew scholarship, and exhibit, moreover, in many places fine specimens of versification: still I think the opinion advanced in the text concerning them will be found to be correct. …)

35. (Among the fables of Robert Henryson, a Scottish poet of considerable merit who flourished in the 15th century, is one, ‘Of the Uponlondis Mous, and the Burges Mous’, to which it does not seem improbable but that Wyatt might have been indebted, if not for the idea of the story in this Satire, at least for the mode of telling it. … It is true that Henryson's Fables were not published until 1621. But Wyatt might have seen them in manuscript; in the same manner as Surrey must have seen Gawin Douglas' translation of the Æneid in manuscript; for we know that Gawin Douglas' translation was not printed till some years after Surrey's death. … Should Wyatt's Satire, on comparison, be thought to have been taken in any degree from Henryson's Fable, it must be considered a circumstance of no small credit to the Scottish poets that they were deemed worthy of being studied and imitated by the two great Reformers of our language: and a question will naturally arise, whether they may have been imitated by them in more instances than those two I have adduced. The question cannot well be decided until we have a good critical edition of all the early Scotch poets before us. This is a work which is loudly called for; but it is one which we hope no one but an able and impartial scholar will venture to undertake. The result would be highly honourable to Scottish literature. It has long since been remarked by Warton, and other writers, that several Scotch poets at the close of the 15th, and at the early part of the 16th century, had attained to a degree of elegance and richness in poetic composition and versification which our own native poets were then altogether strangers to.)

36. Alamanni's satire is reprinted in Collected Poems, ed. Muir and Thomson, pp. 347-9.

37. Tottel's title.

38. Tottel's title.

39. The portion of the line omitted by Nott reads ‘in seking quyete liff’.

40. (This is evident, not only from some of his poems which bear evident marks of having been taken immediately from the French, such as is the ode which begins,

    Though this the port, and I thy servant true.

    [LXXVIII]

    of which the burden is ‘En vogant la Galere’; but from the large number of words purely French, and idioms peculiar to that language used by Wyatt thoughout all his writings. A striking instance of this occurs … where speaking of the Nuns at Barcelona, he says, that ‘most were gentlewomen, which walk upon their horses’. This phrase, which is taken from the French, is one so foreign from our own language, that I thought the passage was corrupt, till I found that Lord Calthorpe's MS. agreed with the Harleian MS. in giving that reading. That Wyatt afterwards adopted the Italian idiom, as better suited to the purposes of poetry, is clear from the following passage:

    Because I knew the wrath of thy favour
    Provoked by right, had of my pride disdain.

    Sometimes Wyatt adhered servilely to the Italian, as in this line,

    That bitter life have turned me in pleasant use.

    [VIII, 42]

    Which runs thus word for word in Petrarch,

    Ch' amaro viver m' ha volto in dolce uso.)

41. (The Ode, of which this stanza forms the opening, is first printed in this volume from the Duke of Devonshire's MS. The whole piece is one of considerable merit, and must have been once very popular, as we find it was moralized by John Hall, who published some poems of a religious and serious nature under the title of The Court of Virtue, in 1565. [Nott refers to Hall's religious parody ‘My lute awake and prayse the lord’ (op. cit., f. 76^v.])

42. (See the Dissertation, Vol. I, p. ccxliv. If the opinion there advanced should be deemed to want the support of authority, it might be supported by that of the best Italian writers, who called the language suited to the higher purposes of poetry, ‘parlar Cortigiano’. Thus Ciampi, in his life of Cino da Pistoia, speaking of the attempt made by him and Dante to improve the poetic language of Italy, says; ‘Sì l'uno che l' altro s' accorsene di non poter ben riuscire nell' impresa, se prima non avessero nobilitata, dirozzata, et arrichita la lingua che adoprare nei loro versi dovevano. Di qui è, che a niuno degli italiani dialetti data la preferenza, ma da tutti il meglio scegliendo, e specialmente dal parlar Cortigiano, cioè dal linguaggio usato dalle culte persone nelle corti dei Grandi, recarono alle rime loro in tal modo e grazia, e forza, ed espressione, che tutti a quelle piegando le orecchie maravigliati, non più fu conceduto il primato a Guittone di Arezzo, ed agli altri di quella classe, ma a Dante bensì ed a Mess. Cino.’ Vita e Poesie di Messer Cino da Pistoia dall' Abate Sebastiano Ciampi. Pisa 1813, p. 81. See also Dante's work de la Volgare Eloquenza, particularly Chapter xvi. Book 1, where he describes the ‘Volgare Illustre’ to be a language, ‘il quale è di tutte le città Italiane, e che non pare che sia di niuna; col quale i volgari di tutte le città d’ Italia si hanno a misurare ponderare, et comparare.’ In the xviiith chapter of the same book he goes on to explain why this ‘Volgare Illustre’ was to be ‘aulico, e Cortigiano’, that is the language used by polished persons in the courts of princes.)

43. (I will illustrate my meaning in a single instance. In one of his serious odes, Wyatt uses the following expression;

    Alas the grief, and deadly woeful smert
    The careful chance, shapen afore my shert.

    V, [1-2]

    It is taken from Chaucer.

    Y-sticked through my true careful hert,
    That shaped was my death erst than my shert.

    Knight's Tale, v. 1568.

    Mr. Tyrwhitt, indeed, comparing this passage with another in Troilus and Cressida,

    O! fatal Sistren, which or any cloth
    Me shapen was my destiny me spun.

    B. III. l. 734.

    conjectures that the word ‘shirt’, is not to be taken in a familiar sense, but that it meant generally the cloth in which the new born infant was wrapped. This is a very ingenious conjecture: but, supposing it were granted, still the word in Wyatt's time being used only in a familiar sense, ought, in good taste, to have been avoided.)

44. (Warton twice mentions Wyatt as a translator from Virgil in the same terms with which he describes Surrey. ‘Wyatt's and Surrey's versions from Virgil are the first regular translations in English of an antient classic poet.’ Vol. III. p. 38; and again, ‘They were both engaged in translating Virgil’, p. 40. I wish Warton had been particular in his reference, and that he had cited Wyatt's translation by name. I am not aware that he attempted any thing of the kind. In his song of Iopas, indeed, which is a description of the sphere, Wyatt, to give an introduction to the poem, feigns that it was the song which Virgil, in the first Æneid, speaks of Iopas as having sung before Æneas, when received by Dido at a solemn banquet at Carthage.

                                            ———citharâ crinitus Iopas
    Personat auratâ docuit quæ maximus Atlas.
    Hic canit errantem Lunam, Solisque labores;
    Unde hominum genus, et pecudes; unde imber et ignes;
    Arcturum, pluviasque Hyadas, geminosque Triones.
    Quid tantum Oceano properent se tingere soles
    Hiberni, vel quæ tardis mora noctibus obstet.

    [Cp. Warton on ‘Iopus' Song’.]

    Of these lines Wyatt can be said to have imitated only the first and second.

    That mighty Atlas did teach,” the supper lasting long,
    With crisped locks, on golden harp” Iopas sang in his song.

    [CIV, 4-5]

    Every thing else in Wyatt's piece is purely of his own invention, and has no place whatever in Virgil. I can hardly suppose Warton not to have been aware of this, and therefore am sorry that he did not specify what Wyatt's translations were to which he has alluded, or where they may be found.)

45. (Wyatt's merits as a prose writer will be best estimated by comparing him patiently and critically with the prose writers who immediately preceded him. To make the proof complete, therefore, of what has been asserted above, a series of specimens from their writings ought to be here adduced. But that would extend the notes to an inconvenient length; for if the quotations were not both long and numerous, I might be suspected of having selected such passages only, as suited my purpose. I shall refer the question therefore to the reader's own judgment, if he is disposed to pursue it. The only caution I will give is this, that he do not suffer himself to be misled by an happily expressed sentence that may now and then be found to occur in our prose writers at the period we are speaking of. Were those passages more numerous than they are, they could not be adduced as instances of style. They are happy accidents only, growing out of the genius of the language, and not the result of system on the part of the writers themselves.)

46. (Leland expressly says of Wyatt,

    Nobilitas didicit, te præceptore, Britanna,
              Carmina per varios scribere posse modos.)

47. (What has been said above of Wyatt, that he led the way to the improvements made in our style of amatory composition, must not be so understood as to contradict any thing advanced respecting Surrey in the Dissertation prefixed to his poems at p. 229 [In Nott's edition of Surrey's works, 1815]. In point of time Wyatt certainly preceded Surrey; perhaps, however, not more than ten, or fifteen years at most. Could we ascertain the date of Wyatt's poems, it would be found, I doubt not, that his earliest productions did not differ in style from those of the writers who had preceded him. Wyatt's style was improved by Surrey. From him he learnt, in a great degree, elegance of expression and fluency of numbers, without which his poems would not have had any sensible effect at all upon our literature. Moreover, when it is said that Surrey was ‘the first who gave us a model of the sonnet in our language’, the observation applies to sonnets of original composition; and to those only is the reference made. See the Dissertation ut sup. It is probable that Wyatt must have translated some sonnets from Petrarch before Surrey began to write; but of Wyatt's sonnets which may be deemed original, not one can lay claim to the merit of being a model in that species of composition; which Surrey's sonnets are. The best of Wyatt's original sonnets, in point of conduct, is that which begins,

    Divers do use, as I have heard and know.

    [CCXVII]

    But even that is far inferior to Surrey's original sonnets, and bears evident marks of having been written by him at a late period of his life.)

48. (It was the opinion of Ben Jonson, an opinion often copied from him, though not always acknowledge, that ‘Spenser, in affecting the ancients, writ no language. Yet,’ continues that admirable writer, ‘I would have him read for his matter, as Virgil read “Ennius”.’ See Ben Jonson's Explorata, or Discoveries. Having Jonson's work before me, I trust I shall be pardoned in extracting from it another passage, which I would strongly urge on the reader's attention. It is one that applies as well to some opinions advanced in the dissertation prefixed to Surrey's poems, respecting a vitiated taste in language and composition, as to what I shall have to remark at the close of the present essay. ‘There cannot be one colour of the mind; another of the wit. If the mind be staid, grave, and composed, the wit is so; that vitiated, the other is blown and deflowered. Do we not see if the mind languish, the members are dull? Look upon an effeminate person! his very gait confesseth him. If a man be fiery, his motion is so; if angry, it is troubled and violent; so that we may conclude, wheresover manners and fashions are corrupted, language is. It imitates the public riot. The excess of feasts and apparel are the notes of a sick state; and the wantonness of language, of a sick mind.’ Ibid. p. 101. With great propriety therefore did that sterling old writer rank the observation just cited concerning corruption of language, under the head of ‘Corruption of Manners.’ For there ever has been a connection between the decay of national virtue, and the decay of national taste and language. The corruption of the Roman language first shewed itself in the captivating but meretricious graces of the style of Tacitus. How nearly connected with this, those more fatal corruptions were which about the same time took place in Roman manners; and how closely both kept pace together, until the mighty fabric of the Roman empire itself fell into utter ruin, I need not here stop to shew. Suffice it to remark, that we have seen in our own country an admiration bestowed upon the style of Gibbon, equal to that which the style of Tacitus, its prototype, obtained from the rising youth of Rome. Here may the parallel cease!

    dii! meliora piis rrrorem que hostibus illum!)

49. (See particularly that sonnet of Petrarch which begins,

    S'io avessi pensato, che sì care
              Fossin le voci de' sospir mie' in rima! & c.

    Towards the conclusion of the sonnet he adds with his usual elegance and feeling,

    Pianger cercai, non già del pianto honore.

    The work upon which Petrarch meant to build his fame, was a long Latin poem, called Africa, on the subject of Scipio's wars. To the writing and correcting this poem, he devoted a great portion of his life; yet so entirely is it swallowed up in the superior merits of his compositions, in ‘Volgare Lingua’, that few of Petrarch's admirers have ever read it, and many perhaps have never heard its name.)

50. (I shall not be accused, I hope of any desire to derogate from Petrarch's merits, when I suggest that, much as he did for the language and poetry of Italy, he possessed advantages which few writers but himself enjoyed. He was placed early in a situation which enabled him to devote his whole time and thoughts to study and composition. He lived, moreover, to polish all his poems with the nicest care and attention; and when they were finished they were transcribed with scrupulous fidelity, and copies were multiplied to be placed in the libraries of the great, or to be publickly commented upon by the learned. Afterwards, when the art of printing was invented, his poems were among the first works to be published, and editions were repeated upon editions, for the most part with such religious exactness, that it might be said his very words were numbered. These advantages respect the text of Petrarch; he himself enjoyed that of studying the Provençal poets, in their own country, confessedly the most elegant and polite poets of the times: and from them he is supposed to have borrowed largely. He was preceded also in his own country by many writers of great genius and learning, who had gone a considerable way towards perfecting the Italian language before he began to write, and had left specimens in every branch of composition which he is found to have attempted. Not to mention Guido d' Arezzo, and Guido Cavalcanti, and Dante himself, of whose fame Petrarch was said to have been jealous (though he so studiously imitated him in his Triumphs that he has been styled in consequence ‘il Dante ingentilito’), if we consider the works of Cino da Pistoia, those alone will be sufficient to prove that Petrarch was greatly indebted to the poets who preceded him. From Cino, Petrarch sometimes borrowed entire verses: as in his VIIth Canzone, where we meet with the following line;

    La dolce vista e 'l bel guardo soave;

    which forms the opening to Cino's XVIth Canzone. Sometimes Petrarch took thoughts from him with little change of expression. Thus in the first of his three celebrated odes to Laura's eyes, fancifully called ‘Le tre Sorelle’, he has the following passage.

    Luci beate e liete,
    Se non che 'l veder voi stesse v' è tolto;
    Ma quante volte a me vi rivolgete,
    Conoscete in altrui quel che voi sete.

    But Cino had previously written an ode in praise of the eyes of Madonna Selvaggia, his mistress, in which he had said,

    Poichè veder voi stessi non potete
    Vedete in altri almen quel che voi sete.

    In the following lines, which form the opening to Cino's second sonnet, we find so many expressions and turns of thought used by Petrarch, that we perceive at once he must have studied him attentively as his master.

    Io son sì vago della bella luce
              Degli occhi traditor che m' hanno ucciso,
              Che là dov' io son vinto, e son deriso
              La gran vaghezza pur mi riconduce.

    Many other passages might be adduced, in which the same general resemblance of style is to be found. But the strongest proof of Petrarch's obligations to him may be found in the circumstance of his having formed his celebrated ode, which begins

    Quell' antiquo mio dolce empio Signore,

    on one of Cino's sonnets. I am aware that Muratori supposes that sonnet to have been written by one Gandolfo Porrino, in the 16th century, for the purpose of imposing on Castelvetro; but he assigns no other reason than that he thinks no one could have written so well, previous to Petrarch. As the sonnet occurs in MS. collections of Cino's poems, written before Porrino lived, Muratori's conjecture cannot be for a moment admitted. The sonnet in question is as follows.

    Mille dubbi in un di; mille querele,
              Al tribunal dell' alta Imperatrice
              Amor contra me forma irato, e dice;
              ‘Giudica chi di noi sia più fidele!
    Questi, sol mia cagion, spiega le vele.
              Di fama al mondo, ove saria infelice.’
              ‘Anzi d'ogni mio mal sei la radice’
              Dico, ‘e provai già di tuo dolce il fele.’
    Ed egli; ‘Ahi! falso servo fuggitivo!
              E questo il merto che mi rendi, ingrato,
              Dandoti una, a cui 'n terra egnal non era?’
    ‘Che val,’ seguo, ‘se tosto me n' hai privo?’
              ‘Io no,’ risponde. Ed ella; ‘A sì gran piato
              Convien più tempo a dar sentenza vera.’

    What has been here said does not go to detract any thing essential from Petrarch's merits as a writer: but when the merits of Surrey and Wyatt are under consideration it is but common justice to remark, that had those two early restores of English literature been possessed of equal advantages, they would have been able to have stood on the fair ground of competition with the proudest names of modern Italy. Cino da Pistoia was born 1270: he died in 1336 or 1337. Petrarch was born in 1304, and died in 1374. Quadrio thus describes the several poets that have been mentioned above. ‘Dante è ne' suoi pensamenti, nerboruto, fantastico, e forte: il Cavalcanti, in luogo delle materiali idee le spirituali usando, filosofeggia con sentimenti maravigliosi, e ne' suoi concetti è sempre elevato; Cino è naturale, tenero e soave; Petrarca e maravigliosamente affectuosso, gentile e pulito.’ Storia d'ogni Poesia, Vol. III. p. 62.)

51. (Speaking of Laura's and Petrarch's romantic passion, the Italians say,

    Da lor' onesto, ardente, e vivo amore
    Naque uno stil, che mai non ebbe equale.)

52. (When Agamemnon went on his fatal expedition against Troy, he left his Bard behind him in his palace; and to him he entrusted the guardianship of Clytemnestra's virtue. The Son of Song was faithful to his charge; and Ægysthus was not able to prevail. He was removed. The fatal policy succeeded. Clytemnestra yielded to the arts of the seducer.)