“Thou art thy mother’s glass, and she in thee Calls back the lovely April of her prime; So thou through windows of thine age shalt see, Despite of wrinkles, this thy golden time.”
For further description of the young Earl’s beauty, take the following:
“If I could write the beauty of your eyes, And in fresh numbers number all your graces, The age to come would say, ‘This poet lies; Such heavenly touches ne’er touched earthly faces.”
“Describe Adonis, and the counterfeit Is poorly imitated after you; On Helen’s cheek all art of beauty set, And you in Grecian ’tires are painted new.”
Essex having become the special favorite of the Queen, of course became an object of envy and slander. Mark now what the poet says:
“Gentle thou art, and therefore to be won; Beauteous thou art, therefore to be assailed.”
“That thou art blamed shall not be thy defect, For slander’s mark was ever yet the fair; The ornament of beauty is suspect, A crow that flies in heaven’s sweetest air.
So be thou good−; slander doth but approve Thy worth the greater, being wooed of time.”
In 1590 Bacon had acquired a reputation as an orator in the House of Commons, but was without available means of livelihood in keeping with his wants and station. Up to this time his efforts for promotion were thwarted by the Queen’s minister, Lord Burleigh (Cecil) who regarded him as a dangerous rival for his son. With the rise of young Essex into royal favor Bacon turned to him as a friend at court. From 1590 to 1594 the Earl tried in vain to advance Bacon, and at last, when the vacant office of Attorney General was filled by another, Essex, blaming himself for the disappointment, insisted on presenting him with an estate worth £1,800.
With these facts in mind, see how perfectly the following lines fit the persons and the time, 1590:
“Let those who are in favor with their stars, Of public honor and proud titles boast, Whilst I, whom fortune of such triumph bars, Unlooked for joy in that I honor most.”
“When in disgrace with fortune and men’s eyes, I all alone beweep my outcast state, And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries, And look upon myself and curse my fate, Wishing me like to one more rich in hope.
Featured like him, like him with friends possessed, Desiring this man’s art and that man’s scope, With what I most enjoy contented least; Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising, Haply I think on thee, and then my state, Like to the lark at break of day arising, From sullen earth sings hymns at heaven’s gate; For thy sweet love remembered such wealth brings it then I scorn to change my state with kings.”