The Cambridge History of English and American Literature in 18 Volumes (190721). Volume VIII. The Age of Dryden.
VIII. The Court Poets.
§ 11. His Songs.
But Sedley had his happy moments, in which he discarded the poor artifices of his muse, and wrote like a free and untrammelled poet. Phyllis is my only Joy, apart from its metrical ingenuity, has a lyrical sincerity which has kept it fresh unto this day. Written to be sung, it is the work not of a fop but of a poet. A near rival is Not Celia that I juster am, memorable for its epigrammatic conclusion,
| | | When Change itself can give no more, |
| T is easy to be true. |
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When he condescends to lyrical patriotism, Sedley is seen at his worst. Not even his hatred of James II can palliate such doggerel as
| | | Behold the happy day again, |
| Distinguishd by the joy in every face; |
| This day great Williams life began |
| Soul of our war and guardian of our peace. |
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For the rest, Rochesters criticism of Sedley is not without truth. He praised the gentle Art,
| | | That can with a resistless Power impart |
| The loosest wishes to the chastest Heart. |
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Sedleys early ambition could not be more justly or delicately expressed. |
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