ula," whom he salutes as "Domina Immerito, mea
bellissima Colina Clouta." But whether wife or mistress, we hear of her
no more. Further, the letters contain notices of various early works of
Spenser. The "new" _Shepherd's Calendar_, of which more will be said,
had just been published. And in this correspondence of April, 1580, we
have the first mention of the _Faery Queen_. The compositions here
mentioned have been either lost, or worked into his later poetry; his
_Dreams_, _Epithalamion Thamesis_, apparently in the "reformed verse,"
his _Dying Pelican_, his _Slumber_, his _Stemmata Dudleiana_, his
_Comedies_. They show at least the activity and eagerness of the writer
in his absorbing pursuit. But he was still in bondage to the belief that
English poetry ought to try to put on a classical dress. It is strange
that the man who had written some of the poetry in the _Shepherd's
Calendar_ should have found either satisfaction or promise in the
following attempt at Trimeter Iambics.

And nowe requite I you with the like, not with the verye
beste, but with the verye shortest, namely, with a few
Iambickes: I dare warrant they be precisely perfect for the
feete (as you can easily judge), and varie not one inch from
the Rule. I will imparte yours to Maister _Sidney_ and Maister
_Dyer_ at my nexte going to the Courte. I praye you, keepe
mine close to your selfe, or your verie entire friends,
Maister _Preston_, Maister _Still_, and the reste.

_Iambicum Trimetrum._

Unhappie Verse, the witnesse of my unhappie state,
Make thy selfe fluttring wings of thy fast flying
Thought, and fly forth unto my Love wheresoever she be:

Whether lying reastlesse in heavy bedde, or else
Sitting so cheerlesse at the cheerfull boorde, or else
Playing alone carelesse on hir heavenlie Virginals.

If in Bed, tell hir, that my eyes can take no reste:
If at Boorde, tell hir that my mouth can eate no meate:
If at hir Virginals, tell hir, I can heare no mirth.

Asked why? say: Waking Love suffereth no sleepe:
Say, that raging Love dothe appall the weake stomacke:
Say, that lamenting Love marreth the Musicall.

Tell hir, that hir pleasures were wonte to lull me asleepe:
Tell hir, that hir beautie was wonte to feede mine eyes: