poet and the noblest genius of any that have left writings behind them."[67] Such were the words of a man of genius, who was acquainted with the works of Chaucer, Shakespeare, and Spenser.  While all admirers of Sidney must regret a praise of his literary abilities so exaggerated and mistaken, the eulogies which have been lavished upon his personal character have never been thought to surpass the worth of their object.  Sir Philip Sidney, in the short life allotted to him, had added to his personal beauty and amiable disposition all that was most fitted to win the admiration of his time.  His rare accomplishments, his chivalrous manners and unusual powers of conversation made him so great a favorite at court, that it was the pride of Elizabeth to call him “her Philip.”  A considerable knowledge of military affairs, and a fearless gallantry in battle, combined, with Sidney’s genial disposition, to win for him the universal affection of the army.  The violence of the Middle Ages lingers in Sir Philip’s angry words to his father’s secretary:  “Mr. Molyneux, if ever I know you to do so much as read any letter I write to my father, without his commandment or my consent, I will thrust my dagger into you.  And trust to it, for I speak it in earnest.”  But the spirit of generosity and self-sacrifice, which we are also accustomed to associate with mediaeval knighthood, was realized in the famous scene on the battle-field before Zutphen.  With good natural talents and an untiring industry, Sir Philip acquired a knowledge of science, of languages, and of literature, which gave him a reputation abroad as well as at home.  The learned Languet relinquished his regular duties without prospect of pecuniary reward “to be a nurse of knowledge to this hopeful young gentleman."[68] The regrets of the universities at Sidney’s death filled three volumes with academic eulogies.  But a better testimony than these volumes to the general admiration for Sidney’s talents, and to his position as a patron of literature, is to be found in the beautiful lines in which Spenser lamented his benefactor, and in two sentences by poor Tom Nash[69], who knew but too well the value of what he and his fellow-laborers had lost:  “Gentle Sir Philip Sidney, thou knewest what belonged to a scholar; thou knewest what pains, what toil, what travel conduct to perfection; well could’st thou give every virtue his encouragement, every art his due, every writer his desert, cause none more virtuous, witty, or learned than thyself.  But thou art dead in thy grave, and has left too few successors of thy glory, too few to cherish the sons of the Muses, or water those budding hopes with their plenty, which thy bounty erst planted.”  The public manifestations of grief at Sidney’s death, and the rivalry of two nations for the possession of his remains, seem to have proceeded rather from the fame of his personal virtues than from the accomplishment of great achievements.  It was recorded on the tomb of the learned Dr. Thornton that he had been “the tutor of Sir Philip Sidney,” and Lord Brooke caused the inscription to be placed over his own grave:  “Fulke Greville, servant to Queen Elizabeth, counsellor to King James, and friend to Sir Philip Sidney.”