"A world of waters heaped up on hie Rolling like mountaines in wide wildernesse, Horrible, hideous, roaring with hoarse crie. And is the sea (quoth Coridon) so fearfull? Fearfull much more (quoth he) than hart can fear: Thousand wyld beastes with deep mouthes gaping direfull Therin stil wait poore passengers to teare." And yet it was good for the dreamer to know that the world wanted to listen to his dreams. The plaintive whimsical humour of his fancy, which fascinated Ralegh, has fascinated poets down the generations (even old Ben Jonson, though his honesty forced him to square those shoulders of his and pronounce--Spenser, in copying the ancients, writ no language), for any one who has heard the echo even of the music of the spheres, hears it again as he reads the strange cadence of Spenser's verse. No one can realize the homeliness of his insight and his boundless imagination, without coming under the mysterious spell of the combination: that homeliness indeed gives a magic strength to the wings of his magic fancy. The life of a dreamer is apt to be sad; if the world touches him, he finds the touch heavy and hurtful. And Spenser could not free himself from state duties which forced him to live for ever witness of the misery and savageness of the peasants, and of the country's weird beauty which made a terrible contrast to their misery. In Ireland he felt solitary and neglected: but he had time and scope for his dreams. In England he quickly felt the pettiness of the busy Court life, to which he could not accustom himself. He never found the life which was most in harmony with his spirit. He was not the man to grapple effectually with circumstances: they hurt him. Those must have been halcyon days for him when he was able to enjoy intercourse with a mind like Ralegh's, in the peace and beauty of the country. Small wonder that he was encouraged to proceed with his fairy fashioning of the perfect gentleman, which Sidney's friendship had encouraged him to begin. He went with Ralegh to the Court, and both were well received. Spenser was given a small pension by Elizabeth. But the ways of the Court did not please him. He had sat too long dreaming by the green alders of Mulla's stream to take kindly to the bustle and ceremony and coarseness of that life. He must have returned with gladness to Kilcolman, and to the work which he now knew the world deemed excellent. But he ever bore in mind one side of Court life which he describes with vividness, remembering probably what Ralegh had told him in their first long talks together.