'Eftsoones they heard a most melodious sound Of all that mote delight a daintie eare, Such as att once might not on living ground, Save in this paradise, be heard elsewhere: Right hard it was for wight which did it heare, To read what manner musicke that mote bee, For all that pleasing is to living eare Was there consorted in one harmonee-- Birdes, voices, instruments, windes, waters, all agree. 'The joyous birdes, shrouded in cheerefull shade, Their notes unto the voyce attempred sweet, Th' angelicall soft trembling voyces made To th' instruments divine respondence meet; The silver-sounding instruments did meet With the base murmure of the waters' fall, The waters' fall with difference discreet, Now soft, now loud, unto the wind did call, The gentle warbling wind low answered to all.' We may well think that these stanzas, which form a part of the 12th canto of the Second Book of the _Faerie Queene_ have seldom been read to a more appreciative audience, nor by a more musical voice. After a moment's silence, Edward Dyer said,-- 'I find nought to complain of in all these lines. They flow like the stream rippling adown from the mountain side--a stream as pure as the fountain whence it springs.' 'Ay,' Fulke Greville said; 'that is true. Methinks the hypercritic might say there should not be two words of the same spelling and sound and meaning, to make the rhyme, as in the lines ending with meet.' 'A truce to such comment, Fulke,' Philip said. 'Rhyme is not of necessity poetry, nor poetry rhyme. There be many true poets who never strung a rhyme, and rhymers who know nought of poetry.' 'But, hearken; Edmund has wrote more verses on the further side of this sheet. I will e'en read them, if it pleases you to hear.' Fulke Greville made a gesture of assent, and Philip Sidney read, with a depth of pathos in his voice which thrilled the listeners,-- 'Ah! see, whoso faire thing dost faine to see, In springing flowre the image of thy day! Ah! see the virgin rose, how sweetly shee Doth first peepe foorth with bashful modestee, That fairer seemes, the lesse ye see her may! Lo! see soone after how more bold and free Her bared bosome she doth broad display. Lo! see soone after how she fades and falls away! 'So passeth, in the passing of a day, Of mortall life, the leafe, the bud, the flowre, No more doth flourish after first decay. That erst was sought to deck both bed and bowre Of many a ladie, and many a paramoure! Gather, therefore, the rose, whilst yet is prime, For soon comes age that will her pride deflowre; Gather the rose of love, whilst yet is time, Whilst loving thou mayst loved be with equall crime.' These last verses were received in silence. There was no remark made on them, and no criticism.