And thou, my soul, inspired with holy flame,
    View and review, with most regardful eye,
  That holy cross, whence thy salvation came,
    On which thy Saviour and thy sin did die! 
      For in that sacred object is much pleasure,
      And in that Saviour is my life, my treasure.

  To thee, O Jesus, I direct my eyes;
    To thee my hands, to thee my humble knees,
  To thee my heart shall offer sacrifice;
    To thee my thoughts, who my thoughts only sees—­
      To thee myself,—­myself and all I give;
      To thee I die; to thee I only live!

See what an effect of stately composure quiet artistic care produces, and how it leaves the ear of the mind in a satisfied peace!

There are a few fine lines in the poem.  The last two lines of the first stanza are admirable; the last two of the second very weak.  The last stanza is good throughout.

But it would be very unfair to judge Sir Walter by his verse.  His prose is infinitely better, and equally displays the devout tendency of his mind—­a tendency common to all the great men of that age.  The worst I know of him is the selfishly prudent advice he left behind for his son.  No doubt he had his faults, but we must not judge a man even by what he says in an over-anxiety for the prosperity of his child.

Another remarkable fact in the history of those great men is that they were all men of affairs.  Raleigh was a soldier, a sailor, a discoverer, a politician, as well as an author.  His friend Spenser was first secretary to Lord Grey when he was Governor of Ireland, and afterwards Sheriff of Cork.  He has written a large treatise on the state of Ireland.  But of all the men of the age no one was more variously gifted, or exercised those gifts in more differing directions, than the man who of them all was most in favour with queen, court, and people—­Philip Sidney.  I could write much to set forth the greatness, culture, balance, and scope of this wonderful man.  Renowned over Europe for his person, for his dress, for his carriage, for his speech, for his skill in arms, for his horsemanship, for his soldiership, for his statesmanship, for his learning, he was beloved for his friendship, his generosity, his steadfastness, his simplicity, his conscientiousness, his religion.  Amongst the lamentations over his death printed in Spenser’s works, there is one poem by Matthew Roydon, a few verses of which I shall quote, being no vain eulogy.  Describing his personal appearance, he says: 

  A sweet, attractive kind of grace,
    A full assurance given by looks,
  Continual comfort in a face,
    The lineaments of Gospel books!—­
      I trow, that countenance cannot lie
      Whose thoughts are legible in the eye.

  Was ever eye did see that face,
    Was ever ear did hear that tongue,
  Was ever mind did mind his grace
    That ever thought the travel long? 
      But eyes and ears, and every thought,
      Were with his sweet perfections caught.