SIR THOMAS WIAT, was born at Allington Castle, Kent, in the year 1503. He was entered of St. John's College, Cambridge, in 1515, and took his degree of Bachelor of Arts, in 1518, and Master of Arts in 1520. Shortly afterwards he married Eiizabeth, daughter of Thomas Brooke, Lord Cobham. His personal accomplishments recommended him to the favour of Henry the Eighth, who frequently employed him on foreign missions. He lost the confidence of Henry on suspicion of too strong an attachment to the hapless Anne Boleyn, though but for a time, as we find that he received the honour of knighthood on Easter Day, the 16th of April, 1536. Wiat died early of a malignant fever, at Sherborne, on his way to Falmouth, at the command of Henry, to meet Ambassadors from Charles the Fifth. An intimate friend, living in the neighbourhood of that town, hastened to him, but his kindness proved unavailing. After lingering a few days, his constitution gave way, and he expired on the 10th or 11th of October, 1542, in his thirty-ninth year. He was buried in the family vault of the same friend, whose name was Horsey, in the great church of Sherborne, but no inscription marks the place of his interment. Of the object of the productions of Sir Thomas Wiat's muse, little can be advanced with certainty. Many of his poems are thought to have been addressed to the unfortunate Anna Boleyn, who has been supposed to have been the object of an attachment on his part, but with what degree of truth is doubtful. In that chivalrous age a beautiful and unfortunate woman could not fail to excite the strongest admiration and compassion, and Sir Thomas Wiat's feelings may have been of this character. There are, however, some of his poems, which, if the supposition that they referred to Anna Boleyn, be correct, are sufficient to warrant the idea that some feeling warmer than pity animated the bosom of the gallant knight. In one little poem, he speaks of his love called Anna; and two of his sonnets are generally considered to allude to his royal mistress. Of the one commencing "Whoso list to hunt? I know where is an hind!" she is evidently the subject. The manner, however, in which he there speaks of her, has been stated to be quite inconsistent with the feelings of a lover. In answer to this, it may be observed, that as in the heading of it, he renounces his relinquishment of the pursuit of the lady's favour, it may have been but a tone of playfulness, assumed to conceal deeper feelings than could with safety have been avowed, in the relative position of the parties, even under the garb of poetry, the common vehicle of gallantry in those days. The other sonnet, an exhortation, wherein "The lover unhappy biddeth happy lovers rejoice in May, while He waileth that month to him most unlucky," is supposed to refer to the unfortunate queen having suffered in that month, in consequence of accusations, in which an attempt was certainly made to implicate Wiat. B THE longe love that in my thoughte I harboure, YET was I never of your love aggrieved, Contente your minde withouten doing grief; If otherwise you seeke for to fulfil Your wrathe, you err, and shall not as you ween; And you yourself the cause thereof have beene. THE lively sparkes that issue from those eyes, Blinde with the stroke, and crying here and there; For straighte after the blaze, as is no wonder, SUCH vaine thought as wonted to misleade me, Yet as I guess, under disdainful brow One beame of ruth is in her cloudy looke: Which comfortes the minde, that erste for feare shooke; That bolded the way straighte; then seeke I how To utter forthe the smarte I bide within : But suche it is, I note how to beginne. HAPPY LOVERS REJOICE IN MAY WHILE HE WAILETH THAT MONTH TO HIM MOST UNLUCKY. YE that in love finde lucke and sweete abundance, And live in love of joyful jollity, Arise for shame, do way our sluggardy: CONFESSION OF LOVE TO PHYLLIS. If waker care; if suddene pale coloure ; THE LOVER PERISHETH IN HIS DELIGHT AS THE FLY IN THE FIRE. SOME birdes there be that have so perfecte sighte, BECAUSE I still kepte thee fro' lies and blame, Then are ye slacke when that ye shoulde outstarte; |