rd." _Phillis_ was the chief of
these sea-studies, and was like _Rosalynde_ "hatcht in the stormes of
the ocean and feathered in the surges of many perillous seas." But as
far as the imagery of the sonnets is concerned, the pageantry of day and
night at sea might have passed before blinded eyes; if it made any
impression, it was in the form of ocean-nymphs and Cupid at the helm.
The poet was in Arcadia, Phillis was a shepherdess, and the conventional
imageries of the pastoral valley were the environment. "May it please
you," he says in dedicating the book to the Countess of Shrewsbury, "to
looke and like of homlie Phillis in her Country caroling, and to
countenance her poore and affectionate sheapheard." The Countess of
Shrewsbury he chooses for the "Sovereign and she-Maecenas" of his toil,
and promises her "as much in affection as any other can performe in
perfection;" but the name of Phillis is no cover for the personality of
a grand lady, and therefore no puzzling questions disturb the pleasure
of the reader as the gentle modulations, the insidious alliterations,
and the musical cadences of his double rhymes fall upon the ear.

Yet for this name or ideal, or whatever Phillis represented in the
poet's thought, he has poured forth a passion that has an air of
sincerity, an artless freshness, a flute-like clearness of tone, as rare
as delightful. It is the very voice of the oaten pipe itself, thin,
clear, and pure. The touches of seriousness are impossible, to mistake.
When the poet avows his faith in Phillis' constancy, after giving the
usual catalogue of her beauties, he says:

"At thy fair hands who wonders not at all
Wonder itself through ignorance embases;
Yet not the less though wondrous gifts you call these
My faith is far more wonderful than all these."

When Phillis persists in her disdain, he cries out impulsively:

"Burst, burst, poor heart, thou hast no longer hope!"

Even when re-moulding the familiar pastoral conceits, he makes the
fancies his own and gives to them a unique touch and spirit. Mere
conventions he rates at their proper value. His pen shall not "riot in
pompous style." He claims a brighter aspect for his poetical devotion
than his fellow-sonneteers manifest:

"No stars her; eyes....
.... but beams that clear the sight
Of him that seeks the true philosophy."

In spite of its defects, the lax structure of the sonnet-form, the
obscurities and needless