" E. K., whoever he was, never carried out his intention, and
the book is no doubt lost; a loss to be borne with less equanimity than
that of Cicero's treatise _De Gloria_, once possessed by Petrarch. The
passage I have italicized is most likely an extract, and reminds one of
the long-breathed periods of Milton. Drummond of Hawthornden tells us,
"he [Ben Jonson] hath by heart some verses of Spenser's 'Calendar,' about
wine, between Coline and Percye" (Cuddie and Piers).[285] These verses
are in this eclogue, and are worth quoting both as having the approval of
dear old Ben, the best critic of the day, and because they are a good
sample of Spenser's earlier verse:--
"Thou kenst not, Percie, how the rhyme should rage;
O, if my temples were distained with wine,
And girt in garlands of wild ivy-twine,
How I could rear the Muse on stately stage
And teach her tread aloft in buskin fine
With quaint Bellona in her equipage!"
In this eclogue he gives hints of that spacious style which was to
distinguish him, and which, like his own Fame,
"With golden wings aloft doth fly
Above the reach of ruinous decay,
And with brave plumes doth beat the azure sky,
Admired of base-born men from far away."[286]
He was letting his wings grow, as Milton said, and foreboding the "Faery
Queen":--
"Lift thyself up out of the lowly dust
* * * * *
"To 'doubted knights whose woundless armor rusts
And helms unbruised waxen daily brown:
There may thy Muse display her fluttering wing,
And stretch herself at large from East to West.
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