Hatton, to Lord Burghley, to the Earl of Essex, Lord Charles Howard, Lord Grey of Wilton, Lord Buckhurst, Sir Francis Walsingham, Sir John Norris, Knight, lord president of Munster, Sir Walter Raleigh, the Countess of Pembroke, and others. The excellence of the poem was at once generally perceived and acknowledged. Spenser had already, as we have seen, gained great applause by his _Shepheardes Calendar_, published some ten years before the coming out of his greater work. During these ten years he had resided out of England, as has been seen; but it is not likely his reputation had been languishing during his absence. Webbe in his _Discourse of English Poetrie_, 1586, had contended 'that Spenser may well wear the garlande, and step before the best of all English poets.' The _Shepheardes Calendar_ had been reprinted in 1581 and in 1586; probably enough, other works of his had been circulating in manuscript; the hopes of the country had been directed towards him; he was known to be engaged in the composition of a great poem. No doubt he found himself famous when he reached England on the visit suggested by Raleigh; he found a most eager expectant audience; and when at last his _Faerie Queene_ appeared, it was received with the utmost delight and admiration. He was spoken of in the same year with its appearance as the new laureate.{1} In the spring of the following year he received a pension from the crown of 50_l_. per annum. Probably, however, then, as in later days, the most ardent appreciators of of Spenser were the men of the same craft with himself--the men who too, though in a different degree, or in a different kind, possessed the 'vision and the faculty divine.' This great estimation of the _Faerie Queene_ was due not only to the intrinsic charms of the poem--to its exquisitely sweet melody, its intense pervading sense of beauty, its abundant fancifulness, its subtle spirituality--but also to the time of its appearance. For then nearly two centuries no great poem had been written in the English tongue. Chaucer had died heirless. Occleve's lament over that great spirit's decease had not been made without occasion:-- Alas my worthie maister honorable This londis verray tresour and richesse Deth by thy dethe hathe harm irreperable Unto us done; hir vengeable duresse Dispoiled hathe this londe of swetnesse Of Rethoryk fro us; to Tullius Was never man so like amonges us.{2} And the doleful confession this orphaned rhymer makes for himself, might have been well made by all the men of his age in England:-- My dere mayster, God his soule quite,· And fader Chaucer fayne would have me taught, But I was dull, and learned lyte or naught.