in the stanza should have been his was but a natural result of the great disappointment which had made such changes in his plans and hopes. His ardent prayers were to a "deaf heaven" (not answered). No regrets could change his lot. He saw his cousin, Robert Cecil, son of Lord Burleigh, favored by gifts and laden with honors by the queen, as he would have been had his father lived. Though he might wish for the same privileges, for the same resources, for the same friends, and desire their aid, their facilities, their powers, they would not come at his bidding. (He was discontented with the pursuit he had been forced to adopt), "with what I most enjoy contented least." In this state, he undoubtedly felt "myself almost despising (that his life was of little use to himself)." With no recreation to break the gloom of these and like reflections, he was led to consider the variety, scope, and beauty of his own thoughts, and they had enkindled in him the idea of presenting Truth in character, in dramatic composition. That resource was an abundant antidote. While engaged in that he was happy. Like the lark in his morning song, he could sing a heavenly song, and he would not exchange the pleasure it afforded him for all the splendor of the court.

A thoughtful consideration of this and several of the succeeding stanzas of this poem, especially of the closing couplet,

"For Thy sweet love remember'd such wealth brings,
That then I scorn to change My state with kings,'

has led me to believe that they are intended to convey a double meaning. Most of the time while at Gray's Inn, Bacon was in straitened circumstances, owing to his extravagant habits. His life, as gathered from the letters which passed between himself and his mother, published in Mr. Dixon's book, shows that she was at times put to great straits to raise money to relieve him and his brother Anthony from foolish debts. She is constantly warning him against contracting them. He was also at this time fond of the theatre, and took part as an amateur in one or more masks and plays which he had aided in composing for special occasions. This poem in its further developments will show that very soon after he began to compose his dramas he conveyed them, authorship and all, to Shakespeare. This must have been in pursuance of some previous understanding of longer or shorter date; and in view thereof, it is not improbable that at this very time he was sharing with Shakespeare in his receipts from Blackfriars Theatre.

In the twenty-first stanza, after speaking of other poets, he says:

"Let them say more that like of hearsay well;

I will not praise that purpose not to sell."

He must have seen then as well as afterwards that he could not figure in the court of Elizabeth as a playwright, lawyer, and statesman. Yet "he purposed not to sell," but he had previously, in all

probability, purposed to make his writings a source of revenue, which was accomplished by a different arrangement. This subject will be considered at greater length in the light of stronger facts hereafter disclosed.

SONNET 30.

When to the sessions of sweet silent thought

I summon up remembrance of things past,
I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought,

And with old woes new wail my dear time's waste:
Then can I drown an eye (unus'd to flow),
For precious friends hid in death's dateless night,
And weep afresh love's long since cancell'd woe,
And moan the expense of many a vanish'd sight;
Then can I grieve at grievances foregone,

And heavily from woe to woe tell o'er
The sad account of fore-bemoaned moan,

Which I new pay as if not paid before.

But if the while I think on Thee (dear friend)
All losses are restor'd and sorrows end.

The retrospect of his life in this stanza but sharpens his sorrows. The life he had prefigured for himself, in earlier and more fortunate days, had not been realized. Many privileges and enjoyments which he had then anticipated never came to him. One grief had followed another all the way: first he mourned the loss of "precious friends" (his father and others who would have assisted him), then "love's long since cancell'd woe" (probably a sweetheart who had died, or mayhap jilted him), then "many a vanished sight" (his early home and its associations, the kindness

of the queen and nobility). These had given place to an obscure life of study and monotony at Gray's Inn. These early trials and disappointments increased his despondency and saddened his life. He sought and found ample relief from these troubles in the world of his own creation,the truth, beauty, and character he was delineating in his dramas.

Another interpretation of this stanza would seem to point to his wants as a student. He "sighs the lack of many things he sought" (he is in want of books, furniture, clothing, means of enjoyment). Much of his time, which would be given to study were he thus supplied, is lost, to his great regret. Those old "friends" (his books) have been gone for years, and the privileges he once enjoyed have vanished. He has been compelled to contract debts, the "sad account" of which has greatly distressed him. But his "dear friend" (Shakespeare) having come to his relief, he is enabled to purchase such things as are needed, and all "sorrows end."

SONNET 31.

Thy bosom is endeared with all hearts,
Which I by lacking have supposed dead,

And there reigns love, and all love's loving parts,
And all those friends which I thought buried.

How many a holy and obsequious tear
Hath dear religious love stolen from Mine eye
As interest of the dead, which now appear
But things remov'd that hidden in Thee lie!

Thou art the grave where buried love doth live,
Hung with the trophies of My lovers gone,
Who all their parts of me to Thee did give;
That due of many now is Thine alone:

Their images I lov'd I view in Thee,

And Thou (all they) hast all the all of Me.

Thy (Thought), in this stanza, is represented as directing his attention to the stories and tales he had read in his youth. They were the "hearts which I by lacking have supposed dead" (he had dismissed them from his thoughts as one who, after reading, dismisses a novel). The search for a subject to dramatize had revived the memory of them. They furnished the framework of his great creations in illustrating Truth, and thus became to him "love and all love's loving parts." He remembered how they affected him when he first read them, but now that he could make a better use of them, they seemed to him as "things removed that hidden in Thee lie" (as things which had remained unnoticed in his memory, until, while seeking for parts to illustrate the truth he had in view, like hidden things they came to light). When examined he found that by dressing them in his own thoughts and fancy, they were the materials he most needed; they furnished truth, beauty, and parts. The "images" he saw in them in youth came back to his thoughts now, and he adopted them as the subjects of his dramas. We need look no further for the motives which led him to adapt his plays from the stories of former ages.