tention, though he always showed a high regard for every part of philological learning, in all which he was extremely conversant. He had observed with regret, that the history, laws, and constitution of Britain, were in general very insufficiently understood; and being fully convinced, that the preservation of such monuments of antiquity, and other documents as were conducive to render the knowledge of them and their deductions from their primary state more accurate and universal, would necessarily redound to the advantage of the public, he had, in an expensive and indefatigable labour of upwards of forty years, accumulated those numerous and inestimable treasures which compose the Cottonian library, and now remain an indisputable testimony of his benevolent disposition towards his native country. The late general dissolution of religious houses had dispersed an infinite number of curious manuscripts. Many of these were secured by the nobility and gentry; but no inconsiderable number falling into the hands of peasants, mechanics, and other persons, ignorant of their importance, and totally inattentive to their preservation, were easily to be purchased. From this source Sir Robert Cotton had supplied his library with a multitude of rare manuscripts; and to them Mr Camden, Mr Lambard, Dr Dee, and Sir Christopher Hatton, had kindly contributed their stores." Sir Robert Cotton's wife was one of the daughters and co-heirs of William Brocas, Esq. of Thedingworth, in Leicestershire, by whom he left one only son, Sir Thomas Cotton, Bart. Sir Robert died of a fever in his house at Westminster, on the 6th of May, 1631, having com pleted sixty years. John Donne. BORN A. D. 1573.-died A. D. 1631. THIS eminent divine and poet was born in London in 1573. His father was of Welsh descent; his mother was related to Chancellor More; both were strongly attached to the church of Rome. Young Donne received the rudiments of education at home, under a private tutor; but his proficiency was so remarkable that he is said to have been sent to the university of Oxford before he had completed his twelfth year. At this time, we are told, he understood the French and Latin languages thoroughly, and had in other respects so far exceeded the usual attainments of boyhood as to be compared to Picus Mirandola, one that was "rather born, than made wise by study." Religious scruples prevented his taking any degree at Oxford. He removed to Cambridge in his fourteenth year, and prosecuted his studies at that university with great diligence and success; but the same causes which hindered his obtaining a degree at Oxford, operated here also. In his seventeenth year he repaired to London, and entered at Lincoln's inn; but his father's death having put him, about this time, in possession of a patrimony of £3,000, he gave up close study for a season, and betook himself to the easier and pleasanter task of inditing amatory verses. For a time this employment satisfied him, and his poetry, though often grossly indelicate in language and ideas, became highly popular, and introduced him to the company of the young men of fashion of the day, with whom he launched out into such extravagance as quickly dissipated his fortune. Donne's mind, however, was naturally of a studious and contemplative cast, and he soon recovered himself from the temporary delusion into which he had allowed himself to be betrayed. In his nineteenth year he began to study the controversy between the catholics and protestants. The religion of his family had taken a deep hold of his mind, but the result of an anxious and minute investigation was his espousing the doctrines of the reformed church. In the following rugged but emphatic lines of his third satire, he has recorded his conviction of the right and duty of private judgment in matters of faith: "Fool and wretch! wilt thou let thy soul be tied To man's laws, by which she shall not be tried At the last day? Or will it then boot thee To say, a Philip, or a Gregory, A Harry, or a Martin taught me this? Is not this excuse for mere contraries Equally strong? Cannot both sides say so? That thou mayest rightly obey power, her bounds know In 1596, Donne accompanied the earl of Essex in his expedition to Calais and his Island voyage. He did not return to England until he had travelled through Italy and Spain. Soon after his return, he was appointed secretary to Sir Thomas Egerton, keeper of the seals, who became very fond of him, and marked him out for further promotion. In this honourable employment he passed five years, and would probably have risen to some more important employment in the state, but for his having clandestinely married a niece of Sir Thomas's lady. The lady's father was greatly incensed at the lovers, and made them both feel the bitter effects of his resentment. But the kindness of Sir Francis Wooley, son to Lady Ellesmere by her first husband, preserved the young couple from want, and ultimately brought about a reconciliation betwixt them and the offended parent, Sir George Moore. His friend Dr Morton, then dean of Gloucester, urged him strongly at this time to take orders; and generously offered, in the event of his doing so, to resign a valuable living to him. But Donne, after deliberately considering the dean's proposal, declined following his advice, ingenuously confessing that the clerical profession was to him unlawful, since he found in himself no higher vocation to it than the want of a maintenance. In 1612, Donne accompanied Sir Robert Drury's embassy to Paris. . Before his visit to Paris, Donne had been presented to King James, and made a very favourable impression on that monarch by his powers of conversation and his acquaintance with scholastic theology. A treatise which he published soon after, on the lawfulness of the oath of allegiance to a catholic, under the title of the Pseudo-martyr,' confirmed James in the opinion he had formed of Donne, and made him determine to force him into the church if it were possible. Accordingly, on his return from Paris, Donne was again urged by his majesty to take orders, and, after long and severe struggles with himself, consented. Being admitted by royal mandate to a doctor's degree at Canı bridge, he became one of the king's chaplains in 1614, and took his station immediately among the first preachers of the day. It is said that within the first year of his ministry, he had the offer of fourteen different livings; he declined them all, but some time after accepted the Lincoln's-inn lectureship. In 1619, he attended Lord Hay on his embassy to the king of Bohemia. Upon his return next year, the king conferred upon him the deanery of St. Paul's. Several other lucrative appointments were bestowed upon him; and he now began to rise above the pressure of poverty with which he had so long struggled. He died, generally regretted, in 1631. Elegies in his honour were composed by Corbet, Carew, Jonson, and Falkland. Dryden has characterised Donne as "the greatest wit, though not the best poet of our nation." He "affects the metaphysics," he adds, "not only in his satires, but in his amorous verses, where Nature only should reign, and perplexes the minds of the fair sex with nice speculations of philosophy, when he should engage their hearts and entertain them with the softnesses of love." His satires are pungent and forcible, but exceedingly rugged and uncouth in their versification. Pope, borrowing Dryden's hint, who had said of them, that "when translated into numbers and English" they would be generally admired, has translated, or rather paraphrased them into his own smooth verse. His poems were printed together in one volume, 4to, in 1633, and re-edited by his son in 1635, 12mo, since which time they have undergone a variety of impressions. His prose works are numerous. Among them are three volumes of sermons in folio: the first printed in 1640, the second in 1649, the third in 1650. They abound in all kinds of learning, and contain many striking thoughts, but are exceedingly rugged in style. His most remarkable prose production is his 'Biathanatos, or Declaration of that paradox, or thesis, that Self-homicide is not so naturally sin that it may never be otherwise.' This extraordinary piece was probably written more as a trial of skill than with any serious intent. It was not published by the author himself, and probably never was intended for publication. Michael Drayton. BORN.A. D. 1563.—died a. d. 1631. THIS once popular poet was born in 1563 at Hartshill, a village in Warwickshire. Little is known of his life, but it appears from the dedication of one of his poems to Sir Henry Gordere of Polesworth, that he was indebted to that gentleman for the means of obtaining a liberal education. What progress he made in his studies at Oxford is not known; but it is probable from the nature of his subsequent productions, that he was neither idle in respect to general literature, nor famous for any great skill in logic or philosophy. On leaving the unversity he came to London, and appears to have trusted his chance of making a fortune to the attractions of his muse. He lived at a time when this was a far less dangerous experiment than it proved at a later period. The nation was prosperous and happy: the domestic customs of the people, the taste of the court, the stage at which both the language and the literature of the country had arrived, were all favourable to poetry; and a man of even moderate genius might, without any extravagant hope, fairly look for popularity and patronage. All Drayton was very inferior to the great men whose names shed such a lustre over the reign of Elizabeth; but he was far from being unqualified to gain applause from her court. His talents had been cultivated by the study of national antiquities, and he possessed sufficient patriotism to prevent his desire of fame or profit from doing any important injury to his imagination. The taste of the sovereign and her court were, with respect to poetry, the same as that of the people. ranks of the community loved to hear the glory of England exalted in every form that fancy could invent; and if Drayton could bear no comparison with the delicate Spencer, either in power or fertility, he was far from deficient in ingenuity, or in the knowledge of his art. The attention which the nationality of his verses was almost sure to acquire him, served as a stepping stone to popularity which at that time rarely failed. He enjoyed, therefore, during the reign of Elizabeth, a share of reputation which established him as one of the national poets, and as, consequently, entitled to address both the sovereign and the people with the assurance of an attentive hearing. But the accession of James the First changed to a considerable degree the aspect of the literary world. That learned monarch was of a less vain and frolicsome disposition than his predecessor: was fonder of philosophy than of poetry, and stood in a situatior. which rendered it far more difficult to please him by eulogistic addresses than it had been to delight the virgin queen. Drayton, it seems, was employed by his friend Sir Walter Aston, who had been one of the officers of the bed-chamber to King James in his youth, in several important missions from the Scottish prince to Elizabeth. When James came to the throne, the poet lost no time in endeavouring to secure his favour, and a congratulatory poem to King James' was the immediate offering of his muse. He proved, however, a much worse politician than his willingness to be a courtier might have made him. Disappointment and imminent peril of disgrace were the only consequences of his loyalty, and he thus mournfully relates how near he had been driven to the verge of ruin. "I have neglected my papers," says he, speaking of the Polyolbion, "sometimes two years together, finding the times since his majesty's happy coming in, so fall so heavily upon my distressed fortunes, after my zealous soul had laboured so long in that, which, with the general happiness of the kingdom, seemed not then impossible somewhat also to have advanced me. But I instantly saw all my longnourished hopes even buried alive before my face: so uncertain in this world be the end of our dearest endeavours! And whatever is herein that tastes of a free spirit, I thankfully confess to proceed from the continual bounty of my truly noble friend Sir Walter Aston; which hath given me the best of those hours, whose leisure hath effected this which I now publish." The prize which Drayton's ambition had aimed at was either the appointment of poet-laureate, or some other office of similar honour; but whatever was the object of his wish, it was carried away by his rival, Mr Daniel, who was made laureate, and secured to himself all the advantages which the court, it seems, was willing to confer on poetical merit. Ben Jonson, between whom and Drayton there existe the most cordial intimacy, succeeded to the office of laureate on the death of Daniel; but against this appointment friendship prevented Drayton making any complaint, and he recovered sufficient of his good humour to continue his poetical labours to the end of his days. Sir William Aston omitted no occasion of showing him respect, and with his patronage, and that of some other persons of distinction, he was enabled to pass his life in ease and respectability. From a passage in his introduction to the Polyolbion, he appears to have devoted a considerable portion of time to the study of the law, but whether it ever proved of any advantage to him is not stated The earl of Dorset cherished for him the most affectionate esteem, and the latter years of his life were spent under the hospitable roof of that nobleman. When the number of his productions is considered, it will be easily seen that Drayton could have spent little of his time in idleness. The complete collection of his poems forms a folio volume of four hundred and ninety closely printed pages, and embraces almost every variety of composition. His most celebrated poem is the Polyolbion,-a work exhibiting many excellencies, both of description and versification, and at the same time so replete with antiquarian lore, that Bishop Nicholson remarks, "that it afforded a much truer account of this kingdom, and the dominion of Wales, than could be expected from the pen of a poet. Selden thought so well of it in this respect, that he took the pains to write annotations to the first eighteen cantos, while other antiquaries, such as Kennet, Hearne, &c., cite him as authority in disputed points. The labour which he expended on the work may be judged from his own statement, that he justified all by the self authors cited, crediting no transcribers but when of necessity he must;" and that “his thirst compelled him always to seek the fountains, and by that, if means granted it, judge the river's nature; for that no one conversant in letters could be ignorant what error is oftimes fallen into by trusting authorities at second hand, and rash collecting, as it were, from visual beams, refracted through another's eye." A strong and somewhat prejudiced view is given in the same address of the literature of the time, but it is eloquently written, and deserves to be regarded as a chapter in the cotemporary history of James the First's reign. One of his long-drawn periods will enable the reader to judge both of his prose style, and his sentiments on the taste of his countrymen. Addressing those who were following the general fashion, and neglecting the true native muse, for foreign imitations, he says, Then whosoever thou be, possessed with such stupidity and dulness, that rather than thou wilt take pains to search into ancient and noble things, choosest to remain in the thick fogs and mists of ignorance, as near the common lay-stall of a city, refusing to walk forth into the temple and fields of the muses; where, through most delightful groves, the angelic harmony of birds shall steal thee to the top of an easy hill; where, in artificial caves, cut out of the most natural rock, thou shalt see the ancient people of this isle delivered thee in their lively images; from whose height thou mayest behold both the old and later times, as in thy prospect, lying far under thee,-then conveying thee down by a soul-pleasing descent through delicate embroidered meadows, often veined with gentle-gliding brooks, in which thou mayest fully view the dainty nymphs in their simple naked beauties, bathing them in crystalline streams,-which shall lead thee to most |