e by his musical skill. On his
return to England he took his degree at Oxford, as Bachelor of Music, in
1588. In 1597 he published "The First Book of Songs or Airs of four
parts, with Tableture for the Lute." Prefixed is a dedicatory epistle to
Sir George Carey (second Lord Hunsdon), in which the composer alludes
gracefully to the kindness he had received from Lady Elizabeth Carey,
the patroness of Spenser. A "Second Book of Songs or Airs" was published
in 1600, when the composer was at the Danish Court, serving as lutenist
to King Christian the Fourth. The work was dedicated to the famous
Countess of Bedford, whom Ben Jonson immortalized in a noble sonnet.
From a curious address to the reader by George Eastland, the publisher,
it would appear that in spite of Dowland's high reputation the sale of
his works was not very profitable. "If the consideration of mine own
estate," writes Eastland, "or the true worth of money, had prevailed
with me above the desire of pleasing you and showing my love to my
friends, these second labours of Master Dowland--whose very name is a
large preface of commendation to the book--had for ever lain hid in
darkness, or at the least frozen in a cold and foreign country." The
expenses of publication were heavy, but he consoled himself with the
thought that his high-spirited enterprise would be appreciated by a
select audience. In 1603 appeared "The Third and Last Book of Songs or
Airs;" and, in 1612, when he was acting as lutenist to Lord Walden,
Dowland issued his last work, "A Pilgrime's Solace." He is supposed to
have died about 1615, leaving a son, Robert Dowland, who gained some
fame as a composer. Modern critics have judged that Dowland's music was
somewhat overrated by his contemporaries, and that he is wanting in
variety and originality. Whether these critics are right or wrong, it
would be difficult to overrate the poetry. In attempting to select
representative lyrics one is embarrassed by the wealth of material. The
rich clusters of golden verse hang so temptingly that it is difficult to
cease plucking when once we have begun.

In his charming collection of "Rare Poems" Mr. Linton quotes freely from
the song-books of Byrd and Dowland, but gives only one lyric of Dr.
Thomas Campion. As Mr. Linton is an excellent judge of poetry, I can
only suppose that he had no wide acquaintance with Campion's writings,
when he put together his dainty Anthology. There is clear evidence[1]
that Campion