d force of English prose began in
Hooker's _Ecclesiastical Polity_; and then, in the splendid Elizabethan
Drama, that form of art which has nowhere a rival, the highest powers of
poetic imagination became wedded, as they had never been before in
England or in the world, to the real facts of human life, and to its
deepest thoughts and passions.

More is known about the circumstances of Spenser's life than about the
lives of many men of letters of that time; yet our knowledge is often
imperfect and inaccurate. The year 1552 is now generally accepted as the
year of his birth. The date is inferred from a passage in one of his
Sonnets,[4:1] and this probably is near the truth. That is to say that
Spenser was born in one of the last two years of Edward VI.; that his
infancy was passed during the dark days of Mary; and that he was about
six years old when Elizabeth came to the throne. About the same time
were born Ralegh, and, a year or two later (1554), Hooker and Philip
Sidney. Bacon (1561), and Shakespere (1564), belong to the next decade
of the century.

He was certainly a Londoner by birth, and early training. This also we
learn from himself, in the latest poem published in his life-time. It is
a bridal ode (_Prothalamion_), to celebrate the marriage of two
daughters of the Earl of Worcester, written late in 1596. It was a time
in his life of disappointment and trouble, when he was only a rare
visitor to London. In the poem he imagines himself on the banks of
London's great river, and the bridal procession arriving at Lord Essex's
house; and he takes occasion to record the affection with which he still
regarded "the most kindly nurse" of his boyhood.

Calm was the day, and through the trembling air
Sweet-breathing Zephyrus did softly play,
A gentle spirit, that lightly did delay
Hot Titan's beams, which then did glister fair:
When I, (whom sullen care,
Through discontent of my long fruitless stay
In Princes Court, and expectation vain
Of idle hopes, which still do fly away,
Like empty shadows, did afflict my brain,)
Walkt forth to ease my pain
Along the shore of silver-streaming Thames;
Whose rutty bank, the which his river hems,
Was painted all with variable flowers,
And all the meads adorned with dainty gems
Fit to deck maidens' bowers,
And crown their paramours
Against the bridal day, which is no