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pieces of &ntimt lloetrp, 
 
 FROM 
 
 UNPUBLISHED MANUSCRIPTS 
 
 AND 
 
 SCARCE BOOKS 
 
 3B?fet0l, 1814. 
 
• F 7 
 
 Printed by John Evans & Co. 
 St. John-Street, Bristol. 
 
TO MY FRIEND 
 
 ARTHUR BIGGS, 
 
 WHOSE ATTACHMENT TO 
 
 EARLY ENGLISH LITERATURE, 
 LED HIM TO SUGGEST 
 
 THE PUBLICATION 
 
 OF THIS VOLUME, 
 IT IS MOST AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 Some Books are to be tasted, others to be swallowed, and some few to 
 be chewed and digested. BACON. 
 
 ItJLOST of the poetical compositions contained in the 
 ensuing pages have lain by the editor for some years ; 
 and unto accident alone must their appearance be im- 
 puted. Whether they will be esteemed worthy of 
 revival or of the regard of those unto whom the volume 
 may pass,, are questions on which no opinion is offered : 
 sufficient be it to observe that they seemed, in the 
 judgement of some literary friends, very amply to merit 
 preservation ; and in accordance with their sentiments, 
 the present limited 1 impression is submitted to the 
 readers of our early literature. 
 The work is arranged thus. 
 
 I. Those pieces which are extracted from the quarto 
 
 1 Ninety-six copies only are taken off, which with six upon blue paper, make 
 one hundred and two. The fac-simile plate is to be inserted before the title page. 
 
VI 
 
 and unpublished 2 manuscript described in the intro- 
 ductory paragraph to this section. 
 
 II. Poems collected from miscellaneous manuscripts 
 of various dates. 
 
 III. Selections from old and scarce volumes,, which 
 seemed deserving of more extended notice. 
 
 The hasty and excursive notes that are added to the 
 volume do not prefer any pretensions to an enlarged 
 archaical knowlege: they are the observations which 
 occurred whilst the editor corrected the preceding 
 sheets,, being neither the product of much labour, or of 
 much time ; and he trusts that they will not be judged 
 of by any severe test of criticism. It is, perhaps, the 
 more necessary to urge this plea, since he was some 
 time ago subjected to malevolent aspersion, in conse- 
 quence of having, in a fit of youthful enthusiasm, when 
 scarcely eighteen years old, independent of controul 
 and without a friendly adviser to check an aspiring 
 mind, foolishly (it can scarcely merit a harsher ap- 
 pellative, although a harsher was most " liberally 
 
 -This expression must doubtless be understood in a restricted sense. It does 
 appear that some of the poems contained in this manuscript have been already 
 printed ; but the enquiries of the editor induce him to believe that the major 
 part is unpublished. 
 
Vll 
 
 applied 3 ) and injudiciously sent to the press two small 
 works, containing productions of our early poets, 
 full, and the admission is made with perfect sincerity, of 
 errors and weaknesses, which his inexperience failed in 
 assisting him then to discover. That he now regrets this 
 premature appearance it is unnecessary to add ; and to 
 the liberal, and candid, and feeling mind, he has said 
 enough. 
 
 The only acknowlegement for literary assistance is 
 due to Francis Freeling, Esquire; who gratified the 
 editor with the loan of several valuable volumes of 
 uncommon occurrence, and the obligation was greatly 
 enhanced by the kindness accompanying it. 
 
 Kingsdowne, August 22, 1814. N. Y. 
 
 3 It is very unlikely that the present work (from the nature of its publication, 
 and from all the copies having been long since sold) will meet the eye of any of our 
 Reviewers : it is therefore very remote from any idea of extorting favour, that 
 the editor acknowleges the kindness of the Monthly Reviewer, and of the British 
 Critic. The former of whom pointed out the defects of one of the books alluded 
 to in the text, with a spirit of reprehension so gentlemanly and candid, as could 
 not fail of enforcing conviction. It is very grateful to the editor's feelings, that 
 he can avail himself of this opportunity of contrasting liberal criticism with spite- 
 ful malignity. 
 
THE genius which has been successfully exerted in contributing to the 
 instruction or amusement of society, in even the rudest times, seems to have some 
 claim upon its gratitude for protection in more enlightened ones. It is a super- 
 annuated domestic, whose passed services entitle his old age to a comfortable 
 provision and retreat • or rather, indeed, a humble friend, whose attachment in 
 adverse circumstances demands the warm and grateful acknowlegements of 
 prosperity. RITSON. 
 
pieces of Ancient $oetrp. 
 
 THE FIRST SECTION, 
 
 JL HE poems which form this division of the present volume were 
 carefully transcribed by the Editor, about four years since, from a small 
 quarto, but imperfect, manuscript (apparently written during the early 
 part of the reign of the second Charles, though its contents are for the 
 most part Elizabethan) of 116 pages, commencing on the recto of folio 
 4, and ending on the reverse of folio 61. It is, perhaps, some trifling 
 subject of regret to the editor, that a portion of the contents should have 
 been already published ; such are, a few of Drayton's Heroical Epistles, 
 the ' rapture ' of Carew, those justly celebrated lines, * My minde to me 
 a kingdome is,' a poem by Dr. Donne, with several little Madrigals* 
 which have appeared in the collections of Wilbye, Bateson, Byrd, Alison, 
 &c. printed in the maiden reign. These latter, as they well merit re- 
 vival, from forming such agreeable specimens of the versification of the 
 age in which they were composed, and as withal they are preserved in 
 books that from their rarity are inaccessible except to a very few for- 
 tunate possessors, I have thought proper to retain. The others, from 
 their being known to every poetical reader, are rejected. 
 
 Our elder writers were not very scrupulous of using obscene and 
 licentious allusion and expression in their compositions : they did not 
 content themselves with simply unfolding Nature, but it was done with 
 a grossness and indelicacy that admitted of no excuse. A number of 
 
 * A few of these (and as they were but a few, I have chosen to reprint them) have 
 been extracted by that elegant critic in early literature, Mr. Haslewood, for insertion 
 in the Censura Literaria, a work which is now scarcely ever to be met with 
 complete. 
 
 B 
 
2 pieces of ancient poetry 
 
 pieces which this manuscript volume contained have been from this 
 cause necessarily omitted. There are cases in which an editor, while he 
 laments the prevalence of such offensive matter, is compelled, reluc- 
 tantly indeed, to preserve the text unimpaired: numerous instances 
 of this kind occur in Chaucer. On the present occasion, however, 
 where these objectionable passages existed in distinct and unconnected 
 poems, there was evidently but one method to adopt, total rejection. 
 In two instances only, this strictness of exclusion has been departed 
 from. The editor fully explains his motives in the attached notes. 
 
 In conclusion it must be observed that the greatest attention is given 
 to the accuracy of those pieces which have been selected : they are print- 
 ed in as exact a state as possible from the editor's transcript, excepting 
 that the punctuation is corrected throughout. 
 
 Change thy minde sith she doth change, 
 Let not fancy still abuse thee, 
 Thy untruth can not seeme strainge 
 Since her falshehood doth excuse thee ; 
 
 Loue is dead, but thou art free ; 
 
 She doth liue, but dead to thee. 
 
 When she loued best awhile, 
 
 Se how she hath still delayde yee, 
 
 Vsinge shewes for to beguile 
 
 Those vaine hopes, w ch haue betrayed yee ; 
 
 Now thou seest, although to late, 
 
 Loue loues truth, w ch weomen hate. 
 
 Loue noe more since she is gone, 
 She is gone & loues another, 
 Being thus deceaued by one, 
 Craue her loue, but loue none other 5 
 
 She was falce, bid love adew, 
 
 She was best, but yet untrew. 
 
pieces of ancient poettp. 3 
 
 Loue farewell ! more deare to me 
 Then the life that thou preseruest j 
 Life thy Joyes are fled from thee, 
 Another hath what thou deseruest 5 
 
 Oh thy death doth springe from thence, 
 
 Thou must dye for her offence. 
 
 Dye ! but yet before thou diest, 
 Let her know what she hath gotten, 
 She in whome thy hopes leade life, 
 Chainged now is quite forgotten j 
 
 She hath changed, her chance is base 
 
 Desire in soe vilde a place. 
 
 And would you faine y e reason know 
 Why my sad eyes soe often flow ? 
 My hearte ebes joy when they doe soe, 
 And Loue, the moone by whome they goe. 
 
 And will you aske why payle I looke ? 
 Tis not with poring on a booke, 
 My Mistres' cheekes my bloode hath tooke, 
 For her mine owne haue me forsooke. 
 
 Doe not demand why I am mute, 
 
 Loues silence doth all speach confute, 
 
 They sit, they note that tune the Lute : 
 
 Fales from there thoughts there tonges they shute 
 
 Doe not admire why I admire, 
 My feruence is anothers fire, 
 Each seauerall hath his desire, 
 Eache proofe is false, & truths a lien 
 
 b2 
 
Ptece* of ancient jportrp, 
 
 If why I loued you would see y e cause, 
 Loue should have for me like other lawes > 
 For fancy pleades not by the cause, 
 Tis as y e Sea still ebes & flowes. 
 
 Noe fault vpon my Loue espie, 
 For you percieue not with your eye 
 My medlers to your tast may lie, 
 Yet please itselfe deliciously. 
 
 Let then my sufFerence be my owne, 
 Sufficeth it these reasons showne, 
 Reason and loue is euer knowne 
 To fight still, but be ouerthrowne. 
 
 Alas ! what hope of speding 
 When hope beguild lies bleding I 
 She bad come when she spied me, 
 And when I came, she flied me : 
 Thus when I was beguiled, 
 She at my sighing smiled. 
 But if you take such pleasure, 
 Of Hope and Joy my treasure 
 By deceipt to bereaue me ; 
 Loue me and so deceaue me. 
 
 Ladie ! when I behould y e roses sprouting, 
 
 Which clad in damaske clad the Arbours j 
 
 And then beholde your lipps, where sweete loue harbours j 
 
 My eyes presents me w th a double doubting, 
 
 For viewing both alike, hardly my mind supposes, 
 
 Whether y e Roses be y r lips, or your lips the Roses. 
 
pitas of attctent ipoetrp. 
 
 - 
 
 When first I saw thee thou didst play 
 The gentill Theife, & stolst my hart away ; 
 Render't againe, or else sende me thine owne ; 
 Two is to much for thee when I have none ; 
 Which if thou dost not, I will sweare y u art 
 A sweete fac't Creature with a double heart. 
 
 Upon a Mother and her Sonne havinge each ofy m but one eye, 
 
 An one ey'd boy borne of a halfe blinde mother, 
 Unmatched in beauty savinge each to other ; 
 Sende her thy eye, faire boy, & she shall prove 
 The queene of beauty, thou the God of Love. 
 
 Vpon a Scould. 
 
 Her body is bestowed well, 
 A handsome grave doth hide her ; 
 As for her soule tis not in hell, 
 Y e diuell could neuer abide her ; 
 I rather thinke she's soar'd aloft, 
 For in a crack of thunder, 
 Methought I heard her voyce not soft, 
 Tearing y e clouds asunder. 
 
 On a Maide that dyed for love. 
 
 Goe periured man, & if thou ere returne 
 To vew thes last remainder of my vrne, 
 And laughst & spurnst at my religious dust, 
 And saist wheres now the coulor, forme, & trust 
 Of weomens beauty, & perhaps w th rude 
 Hands riflest the flowers w ch the virgins strewde : 
 
pieces of anctent pjetrp. 
 
 Know I have prayd to pitty that some winde 
 May raise my ashes vp, & strike thee blinde. 
 
 Is Loue a boy ? what meanes he then to strike * 
 Or is he blinde ? why will he be a guide ? 
 Is he a man ? why doth he hurt his like ? 
 Is he a God ? why doth he men deride ? 
 
 Noe one of thesse, but one compact of all, 
 A willfull boy, a man still dealinge blowes, 
 Of purpose blinde to leade me to there thrall, 
 A God that rules vnruly, God he knowes. 
 
 Boy ! pitty me, that am a child againe ; 
 
 Blinde be no more my guide to make me stray j 
 
 Man vse thy might to force away my paine ; 
 
 God doe me good, & leade me to the way ; 
 
 And if thou beist a power to me unknowne, 
 Power of my life, let heare thy grace be showne. 
 
 By Tho: Watson. 
 
 Pale Iealousie, child of insinuate love, 
 Of heartesicke thoughts w ch Melancholy bred ; 
 O hell-tormenting feare ! noe faith can move 5 
 By discontent w th deadly poyson fed, 
 W th heedelesse youth & error vainely led j 
 
 A mortall plague, a vertue-drowning flood, 
 A hellish fier, not quenched but w th blood. 
 
J^teces of 9Lvttimt poetry 
 
 On a Womans faith. 
 
 Catch at a starr thats falling from y e skye $ 
 Make an Imortall creature feare to dye ; 
 Stopp w th thy hand the current of the seas 5 
 Passe through y e Center to y c Antipodes -, 
 Teach profound Solomon to taue a jiggj 
 Poyson y e Devill w th a Spanish figg ; 
 Weigh me an ounce of flame ; repell y e winde ; 
 Then maist thou find truth in a womans minde. 
 
 Feare is more paine then is y e paine it feares, 
 Disarming humaine minds of natures might, 
 Where each conceite an vgly figure beares, 
 W ch were not evill well vew'd in reasons sight. 
 
 Tyme takes our lives, & post to death doth runn, 
 Deathe meetes with tyme, & soe our dayes are dunn. 
 
 Thought w ch art fed from thy sweete Fancies eyes 
 W th lookes of love, thy lyfe and deere delight, 
 Delight from whence new thoughts doe daily rise, 
 Thoughts w ch doe breed new fancy more of might, 
 
 How can it be y 4 either tyme or place, 
 You Boreas twinns, & both coheires of love, 
 Can seperate each out of thothers grace, 
 Sith it was so ordeynd by powers above. 
 
 Sith it was soe ordeynd by powers above, 
 Y' Fancye euer life to Thought should give, 
 
8 ipfcces of ancient portrp. 
 
 & ty'de their being in such pfect love, 
 As Thought once dead, then Fancye cannot live ; 
 Why then art thou sweete Fancye soe vnkinde > 
 To kill thy Thought, & soe thy deathe to finde. 
 
 Lovely her lookes who my faire Fancye is, 
 
 Fancye soe named by her sweete consent, 
 
 & she to breede in me the like content, 
 
 Named me her Thought & thought me not amisse. 
 
 Then I her thought w ch cannot thinke amisse, 
 & if I should not speake as well as thinke, 
 Filled w th her praises to y e very brinke, 
 I wretch vnworthy where such heavenly blisse. 
 
 She is on earth, y e fairest, & y e best, 
 
 Y e wisest, & y e kindest little elfe, 
 
 In Love fitt for y e God of love himselfe j 
 
 & one thinge more w ch betters all y e rest, 
 
 This miracle is on her forehead wrought, 
 
 She loves but one, & will not chaunge her Thought 
 
 The Ayre w th sweetes my sences doth delight ; 
 
 The Earth w th flowres doth glad my heavie eye ; 
 
 The fire w th warmth revives my dying spright ; 
 
 Water cooles y* w ch is to hott & dry j 
 
 The ayre, y e earth, y c water, & y e fire, 
 All doe me good, what can I more desire ? 
 
 O noe ! y e Ayre infected I doe finde j 
 
 Y e Earths faire flowres doe wither & decay ; 
 
pieces of ancient pjettp* 
 
 Y e Fire soe hot inflames y e frozen minde; 
 
 & Water washeth white & all awaye ; 
 
 Thus Ayre, Earth, fire, & water dothe anoye me : 
 How can it be then but they must destroy me? 
 
 Sweete Ayre ! doe yet awhile thy swetenes hold j 
 & Earth ! let not thy flowres fall in prime ; 
 Fire! doe not burne, my heart is not acold ; 
 Water ! dry vp vntill another tyme y 
 
 O Ayre, Earth, fire, & water! heare my prayer ; 
 
 Or slay me now, fire, water, earth, or ayre. 
 
 Loe in y e Ayre how deadly thunder threatneth j 
 
 See on y e Earth how euery flower fayleth ; 
 
 & w th y e fire how euery senew sweateth j 
 
 & how y e water panting hearts appealeth ; 
 
 Thus Ayre, Earth, fire, & water all doth grieve me, 
 Heavens ! show y or power yet somewhat to relive me. 
 
 This is not Ayre y t euery creature fedeth; 
 
 Nor this is earth where euery flower groweth ; 
 
 Nor this is fire y* flame & fury breedeth ; 
 
 Nor this y e water y l both ebbes & flowes ; 
 
 These Elements are w th in a world inclosed, 
 Those where my hearte most heavenly rest reposed. 
 
 Love makes me loath my lyfej 
 Yet doe I live by love; 
 
 Thus lyfe brings death, 
 
 & death brings lyfe 5 
 Both this & that I prove. 
 
 I sigh & sing for joy j 
 I laugh in paine to lye ' $ 
 
io pieces of ancient poetrp. 
 
 Thus mirth is moane, 
 & moane is mirth,, 
 Twixt both I live and dye : 
 
 My coulor shews my care, 
 My care doth worke my paine, 
 
 My paine my grief, 
 
 My grief my death. 
 My death my endlesse gaine. 
 
 In vaine is beautyes blast. 
 If beauty want her meede, 
 
 The blosome fruit, 
 
 The herbe his flower, 
 The flower w th out his seede. 
 
 My youth doth shew my yeares, 
 My yeares should shew my joy, 
 
 I hast to wedd, 
 
 I have noe will, 
 1 stoope yet am I coy. 
 
 Though outward face doth shew 
 Mine inward heart not paynd, 
 
 Yet doth my heart 
 
 Feele torments greate, 
 & know my face is faind. 
 
 Sith soe it is I sigh, 
 & to myselfe I singe, 
 
 High hoe my hearte, 
 
 High hoe, alas ! 
 Love is a cruell thing. 
 
pitm of 2tactent poetry n 
 
 Verses w ch my Lord Audley, earle of Castlehaven, sente to his Wife. 
 
 I neede noe trophies to adorne my hearse, 
 
 My wife exalts my home in every verse, 
 
 And plac'd them hath soe full vpon my tombe, 
 
 That for my armes there is no vacant roome ; 
 
 Who will take such a Countess to his bead, 
 
 That first gives homes, and then cuts of his head ? 
 
 Her Answere. 
 
 Its true you neede noe trophies to y or hearse, 
 Your life being odious, & below all verse ; 
 Nor wast it your wife who came chaste to y or bead 
 That did home you, y or owne hands homes y or head ; 
 Twas fit y or head should off, as all men conster 
 That y u y* liued soe, shoulde dye a monster. 
 
 Change me, O Heavens ! into y e Ruby stone, 
 
 That on my love's faire lockes doth hange in gold ; 
 
 Yet leave me speache to her to make my moane, 
 
 And giue me eyes her beauties to behould ; 
 
 Or if thou wilt not make my flesh a stone, 
 
 Make her hard harte seme fleshe, y* now semes none. 
 
 Aye me ! can every rumour, 
 Thus starte my Ladies humor ? 
 Name ye some Gallant to her, 
 Why straight forsooth I wooe her -, 
 Then burst she forth in passion, 
 You men love but for fashon ; 
 
 c2 
 
12 pieces of ancient Poetrp, 
 
 Yet sure I am y l noe man 
 Euer so lou'd a woeman ; 
 Yet, alas ! Love, be warye, 
 For woemen be contrarye. 
 
 Dear Pitty how, ah ! how wouldst thou become her, 
 
 That best becometh beauties best attiring ! 
 
 Shall my desert deserue noe favour from her, 
 
 But still to wast myselfe in deepe admiringe, 
 
 Like him that cales to Eecho to releue him, 
 
 Still teles & heares y e Tale, oh ! tale y* greues him, 
 
 Ye restles thoughts that harbour discontent, 
 Cease your assaults, & let my hearte lament, 
 And let my tongue have leaue to tell my griefe, 
 That she may pitty though not graunte reliefe ! 
 Pitty woulde helpe, (alas !) what love hath slaine. 
 And salue the wound y l festred this disdaine. 
 
 \ll is heauen w ch you behould, 
 
 And all your thoughts are blessed 
 
 But noe springe can wante his fall, 
 Each Troylus hath his Cresed. 
 
 Thy well ordred lockes are longe, 
 Well rudely hange neglected : 
 
 And thy liuely pleasent cheare, 
 
 Paile greife on earth deiected. 
 
 Much then wilt thou blame thy Saint. 
 That made thy heart so holy, 
 
IPtece* of ancient poetry 13 
 
 And w th sighes confesse in love 
 Y* to much faith is folly. 
 
 Yet be just and constant still, 
 
 Time may beget a wonder, 
 Not unlike a Sumers frost, 
 
 Or Winters fattall thunder. 
 
 He y* houldes his sweete hearte true 
 
 Vntoe y c day of dying, 
 Lives y e best that euer breath'd, 
 
 Most worthey of enioying. 
 
 Fye on this fauning, and Love without desire, 
 Heate still remaining, & yet noe sparke of fire ! 
 Thou arte untrue, nor wearte w th fancye moued, 
 For desire hath power on all y* ever loued. 
 
 Shew some relentinge, or grante thou dost not love, 
 Tow hearts consenting, will they not constant prove ? 
 Yeelde, or confesse that weomens words are fained, 
 And that beautie smiles on th' obiect most disdained. 
 
 Trust is not placed in words & forced smiles, 
 Love is not graced w th that w ch most beguiles j 
 Love or dislike yeelde fire or giue no fuell, 
 So thou mayst proue true, or at least lesse cruell . 
 
 Adeu, sweet Amarilis ! 
 
 For since to part your will is, 
 
 Oh heavie tyding ! 
 Here is for me noe byding j 
 
14 pitttx of ancient portrp. 
 
 Yet once againe ere y e I parte w th you, 
 Amarilis, Amarilis, 
 Sweete, adeu ! adeu ! 
 
 I liue, & yet methinkes I doe not breath; 
 
 I thirst & drinke, I drinke & thirst againe ; 
 
 I sleepe, & yet I dreame, I dreame & wake ; 
 
 I hop for that I have, I have & wante -, 
 
 I sing & sigh, I love & hate at once j 
 
 O tell me, restlesse Soule ! what uncouth iarr 
 Doth cause such wante in store, in peace such warr ? 
 
 On a still-born Child. 
 Sepse pater doluit. 
 
 I will not quarrell w th heaven, nor cursses raise 
 
 Gainst planetary or birth criticle dayes, 
 
 Nor the three fatall sisters cutworke ban, 
 
 Vpon whose threads depends the breath of man ; 
 
 What in the leaves of destany is writ 
 
 I will obey, but neuer question it, 
 
 Children are jewles w ch wee when heauen doth take 
 
 Must loue the casket for the jewles sake ; 
 
 How did I courte my hopes, & -often smiled 
 
 With expectacon of a boy, a child 
 
 That might write man before ould age would show 
 
 Vpon his fathers head a crowne of snow ! 
 
 When thus my thoughts did pride it, in the meane 
 
 Deathe played the Chorus, & did chainge the sceane j 
 
 When nightly lodg'd by my sheete partner's side, 
 
 And sleepe inhumed gives our sences tyed, 
 
pitm of ancient pjtfrp, 15 
 
 How little dreamed I that her frutefull wombe 
 
 Was, to a liuelesse corpes, a liuing tombe ! 
 
 How little thought, I little thought indeed, 
 
 Base wormes on so sweete fleshe so sone shoulde fede -, 
 
 Thus new sprung roses in there maiden buds 
 
 Are nipt by frost ; thus in y e dauncing floods, 
 
 When many a tall ship rides, a sudaine blast 
 
 Strikes of the brauest topsaile from the mast 5 
 
 And thus to lose what we so long desired, 
 
 Was like a towne at once both wone & fired ; 
 
 But, Passion, cease to comment, or to singe 
 
 More Epicediums on my Infanting 5 
 
 For Epitaph this only shal be read, 
 
 Here lyes the Babe was borne & buryed. W. H. 
 
 An Epigram. 
 
 Nicke y e weavers boy is dead & gone, 
 Surely his life was but a thrume. 
 
 Lord, who createdst man in welth & store, 
 Though fooleshly he lost the same, 
 Decaying more and more, 
 Till he became 
 Most poore ! 
 With thee 
 O let me rise, 
 As larkes harmoniously, 
 And singe this day thy victoryesj 
 Then shall the fall fvrther the flyte in me. 
 
16 peeces of Stactmt pjettp. 
 
 I die to live, I live to dye, 
 In hope to Hue eternally. 
 
 My tender age in sorow did begin, 
 And still w th sicknesses & shame, 
 Thou didst so punish me, 
 That I became 
 Most thinne ; 
 With thee, 
 Let me combine, 
 And feele this day thy victory ; 
 For if I impe my wings on thine, 
 Affliction shall advance the flight in me. 
 
 Vpon his Mistress walking in a Snow, 
 
 I SAWE faire Chloris walke alone 
 When fethered raine came softly downe, 
 And love discending from his towre, 
 Did courte her in a silver showre ; 
 The wanton snow flue on her brest 
 As little birds into theire nest, 
 But overcome with whitenesse there, 
 For griefe did thaw into a teare ; 
 Whence falling to her garment hem 
 To decke her, frose into a gem. 
 
 Vpon his M rs Picture. 
 
 Sitting & redy to be drawne, 
 
 What neede these velvets, silkes, or lawne, 
 
pittts at Gforfent pjettp. 17 
 
 Embrodery, fethers, fringe, & lace, 
 
 Wher every limme takes like a face ? 
 
 Lende those suspected helpes to ayde 
 
 Some forme defective or decayed : 
 
 This beauty is soe lasting faire, 
 
 Nought needes to clothe it but the ayrej 
 
 Yet something to the Painters view 
 
 Were fittly interposed j but now 
 
 He shall, if he can vnderstand, 
 
 Worke w th my fancie his owne hand ; 
 
 Draw first a cloude, all but her necke, 
 
 And out of that make day to breake, 
 
 Till like her face, it doth appear 
 
 That men might thinke all light rose there ; 
 
 Then let the beames of that disperse 
 
 The Cloude, & shew the vniverse, 
 
 But at such distance as the eye 
 
 May rather yet adore than spye 5 
 
 The Heavens designde, draw next a springe 
 
 W th all that youth or fates can bringej 
 
 Foure Riveres branching out like Seas, 
 
 And Paradise confirming these ; 
 
 Last draw the circkles of the Globe, 
 
 And let there be a starry Robe 
 
 Of Constlelacons boute her hurld ; 
 
 So thou hast painted beauties world. 
 
 Vpon a blacke maide wooing a /aire boy. 
 
 Thou fairest boy, why flyst thou me ? 
 Since languish selfe would flame for thee ! 
 
18 pieces of ancient H?oetrg* 
 
 I am black that's true, soes night, 
 And love doth in darke shade delighte ; 
 The whole world, doe but close thyne eye, 
 Will seeme to be as blacke as I j • 
 Or looke, & vew what a black shade 
 Is by thyne owne faire body made. 
 
 When those sunkelike eyes but turne 
 
 On me, as -f darker Sun 
 
 Doth his neare borne Indian burne, 
 
 Soe I fare, soe am undone j 
 
 Turne away those beamy rayes ! 
 
 Thou but alterest misery, 
 
 Adding nightes where thou mad'st dayes, 
 
 Soe a Russian death I dye j 
 
 Is there noe meane in those eyes : 
 
 Must they burne or must they freze? 
 
 Open that sweete roseat cave 
 Where those breezes keep there nest ; 
 By y 1 meanes y or sunburnt slave 
 Midst his flame may feele noe heate ; 
 Or when he y e shall kisse, 
 
 Round impaled w th hills of snow, 
 Let him feele y* 5 Tropicks blisse, 
 If y 1 winde shoulde gently blow : 
 Sweetest ! you by this device 
 May coole my heate & thaw my ice. 
 
pfeces of ancient porttp* 19 
 
 A Censure. 
 
 Why slyghtst thou her whome I approve ? 
 
 Thou art no iudge to trye my love, 
 
 Nor canst deserne where her forme lyes, 
 
 Vnlesse thou sawest her with my eyes 5 
 
 Say she was foule or blacker then 
 
 The night, or sunburnt african j 
 
 If lov'd by me, tis I alone 
 
 Can make a beauty where is none, 
 
 For rated in my fancye, she 
 
 I soe as she appeares to me j 
 
 But tis not feature or a face, 
 
 That doth my free elecon grace j 
 
 Nor is my fancy only led, 
 
 By a well tempered white & red ; 
 
 Could I enamord grow on those, 
 
 The Lylly & the blushing Rose, 
 
 Vnited in one stock, should be 
 
 More deare unto my thoughts then she j 
 
 But I looke further, & doe finde 
 
 A richer Jewell in her minde, 
 
 Where somethinge is soe lasting faire 
 
 As age or arte cannot impaire : 
 
 Hadst thou a prospective soe cleare, 
 
 Thereby to se my obiect there, 
 
 And then her vertewes shouldst espie, 
 
 They'd force thee to confesse, y 1 I 
 
 Had cause to love her 5 & learne thence 
 
 To love by Iudgment, not by sence. 
 
 d2 
 
pteces of ancient poetry 
 
 A friend should like a Chimney be, 
 Warme in y e Winter of Aduersitie. 
 
 On a Gentlewoman not marriageable, 
 
 Why should passion leade thee blinde 
 Cause thy Lydia proves vnkinde ? 
 She's yet to younge to know delight, 
 And is not plum'd for Cupid's flight j 
 She eanot yet in height of pleasure 
 Answer love w^ equall measure, 
 But like a rose new blowne doth feede 
 The dye alone, but yelds no seede ; 
 Autume will shortly come & greet her, 
 Making her tast and coulour sweeter j 
 And then her ripeness will be such 
 That she will fall, euen w th a tuch ; 
 She but beinge in her springe, 
 Cannot love, till Cupid bringe 
 A hotter season w th his fier, 
 Which may ripen her desire. 
 
 When first I loved, I would it had bine never, 
 
 Nay, rather wish I that it might be euer j 
 
 I felte a certaine mocon in my brest, 
 
 But knew not how or where withall possest j 
 
 In thinges vnknowne there is but shorte contente, 
 
 And Joyes conceited only, soon are spente ; 
 
 Licke to a pleasunt dreame when one awakes, 
 
 The pleasuers vanish w ch the fancy makes : 
 
 Still did I wonder in a silent pause, 
 
 What my delight was, & from whence > e cause; 
 
ptaes of ancient poetry 21 
 
 At last I found twas beauty y 1 did move 
 Desier inflamed, to burne my hearte with love j 
 Beauty, y e attractive loadstone of affecons, 
 Made way in myne t' admire her high perfecons 
 Whose 1 am, & will be until! death 
 Cutt off the strings of vitall breath. 
 
 To y e tune of c Whoope ! doe me noe harme, good man. 
 
 There was an old lad 
 Rode on an old pad, 
 
 Vnto an old punke, a wooing ; 
 He layed this old punke 
 Vpon an old trunke, 
 
 And there was good old doing. 
 
 There was an odde maide, 
 Scarce sweete, as they sayde, 
 
 In a place y 1 1 dare not mencon ; 
 She in an odde humer, 
 Lay w th a perfumer, 
 
 O there was an odde invencon ! 
 
 This punke & this maide, 
 They sunge & they saide 
 
 That marriage is but a servility $ 
 If marrye we must, 
 For chaunge of o r lust, 
 
 O well faire a trick of agility ! 
 
 There was a good Earle 
 Had gott a young girle, 
 
 His wimble did peirce her flanke 5 
 
22 pieces of Starfent pjetrp* 
 
 His nagge was made able 
 By chaunge of his stable j 
 
 O there was a brave quoad hanc ! 
 
 This maide inspected j 
 But fraude interiected 
 
 A maide of more perfecon : 
 The Midwives did her handle, 
 While y* Kn 1 held y e candle ; 
 
 O there was a clere inspecon ! 
 
 Now foraine writers 
 Speake ill of theise miters, 
 
 That allow of such virginity : 
 They speake of election 
 & want of corecon j 
 
 O there was some divinity ! 
 
 There was a younge Lord 
 Y* assumed, on his word, 
 
 To be a Parlement-maker ; 
 But see how things alter ! 
 He assumed a halter j 
 
 O there was a fine undertaker ! 
 
 He had a sweete freind 
 Whome he did recomend 
 
 To the keeping of sweete S r Jervice : 
 They gave him a glister 
 Made his belly to blister 5 
 
 O there was a sweete piece of service ! 
 
 This friend had denied 
 & could not abide 
 
 A match that he saide would shame us ; 
 
pitm of anctent potftp* S3 
 
 ... 
 
 But this little Matron 
 Would needes have this patron, 
 A Patron of Ignoramus. 
 
 Now Weton, & Heme, 
 & Turner, doe burne, 
 
 And say these things are but fraudesj 
 They may say their pleasure j 
 We thinke it hard measure, 
 
 O Knaves ! O Punkes ! O Baudes ! 
 
 To the tune of ' You Ladies ofy e Courte.' 
 
 Panders! come away j 
 Bring y° r Punkes, by clusters, 
 Alonge y e ditch by Grayes, 
 Where Cupid cales his musters 
 Night and day. 
 
 Wenches ! doe you heare t 
 lie tell you noe fable : 
 You y* do occupie, 
 
 6 be not warantable, 
 
 Heele casher e. 
 
 Little alive is founde 
 
 7 Yeares to be a trader : 
 Tom Taud, heele be bound 
 "Who are they say has paid her, 
 
 In her purse. 
 
 Gardener's neere the worse, 
 
 ****** 
 
 As condon as the burse, 
 For she hath still the mony 
 In her purse. 
 
s* pitm of ancient Poetrp, 
 
 True it is y 1 Cab 
 For yeares may be a virgine ; 
 Yet Cupid findes her drab 
 All redy nedes a Surgeon 
 For the Soalle. 
 
 Citty- Wives, they say, 
 May ocupie by Charter $ 
 And, Cupid! graunte they may 
 Soe ware for barter, 
 Without paye. 
 
 But because y* you 
 Will not allowe this order, 
 To Morefields se you come, 
 W th y or Maior, & y or Recorder, 
 With a drume. 
 
 Of vertuous Love myselfe can boast alone, 
 Sith noe suspect my service may attaint 5 
 For perfect faire is shee, y e onely one 
 Whome I esteeme for my beloued Saint : 
 
 Thus for my faith I onely beare y e bell ; 
 
 & for her faire, shee only doth excell. 
 
 Then let fond Petrarch sound his Laura's praise, 
 & Tasso cease to publish his effect, 
 Sith mines y e faith confirm'd at all assayes, 
 & hers y e faire \v ch all men doe respect : 
 
 My lynes her faire, her faith my faith assures ; 
 
 Thus I by loue, and loue by me endures. 
 
pittt& of ancient poettp* 25 
 
 There was a tyme when sillie Bees coud speake, 
 & at y* time I was a silly Bee 
 Who fed on tyme vntill my hearte did breake, 
 Yet neuer found y t tyme would fauor me : 
 
 Of all y e swarme, I only could not thrive, 
 
 Yet brought I waxe & huny to y e hiue. 
 
 Then thus I buz'd when tyme noe sapp would give, 
 
 Why is this blessed tyme to me soe drye 
 
 Sith in this tyme y e lazie droane doth live, 
 
 Y e waspe, y e worme, y c gnatt, y e Butterflie } 
 
 Mated w th greife, I kneeled on my knees, 
 & thus complayned to y e Kinge of Bees. 
 
 God graunte, my Leige ! y e tyme may neuer end, 
 & yet vouchsafe to heare my plaint of tyme, 
 Sith euery fruitlesse fly hath found a freind, 
 & I cast downe when Attomies doth climbe. 
 
 Y e Kinge replied but thus, peace peevish Bee ! 
 
 Thou art not made to serve y e tyme, y e tyme not thee. 
 
 The tyme not thee ! this word dipt short my wings, 
 
 & made me wormelike creep w ch erst did fly : 
 
 Awfull regard disputeth not w th Kings, 
 
 Receiyeth a repulse, not asketh why j 
 
 Then from y 1 tyme a tyme I me w th drew, 
 To feede on henbaine, hemlock, nettles, rue. 
 
 When all the swarme in sunshine tast y e rose, 
 On black fearn-rutes I seeke & suck my baine -, 
 Whilst on y e Eglantine y e rest repose, 
 To light on wormewood leaves they me constraine. 
 Having too much, they still repine for more, 
 & cloy'd w th sweetenes, surfet on their store. 
 
26 ptecea of ancient porttp, 
 
 Swolne fatt w th feasts, full merely they passe 
 Their tyme in clusters, feeding on a tree ; 
 & finding me to nible on y e grasse, 
 Some muse, some scorne, & some doe pitty me -, 
 Some envey me, & whisper to their Kinge, 
 Some must be still, & some must have noe stinge. 
 
 Are Bees waxt waspes, & spullers to effect ? 
 
 Doe huny bowells make y* 5 spirits gall ? 
 
 Is this y e juce of flowers, to breede suspect ? 
 
 Is't not enough to tread on them y 1 fall ? 
 
 What stinge hath Patience but a stinging greife, 
 Y 1 stinges naught but itselfe w th out releife ? 
 
 Sad Patience, y l attendeth at y e dore 
 & teacheth wise men, thus concludes in Schooles : 
 Patience I am, therefore I must be poore - } 
 Fortune bestowes her riches most on fooles. 
 
 Greate Kinge of Bees, w €h rightest euery wronge ! 
 
 Listen to Patience in her dying Song. 
 
 I canot feede on fenell, like some flyes, 
 Nor fly to euery flowre to gather gaine : 
 My apitite waights on my praices eyes, 
 Contented w th contempte & pleasde w th paine, 
 & yet expecting for a happy houre, 
 To be soe blessed but to suck one flower. 
 
 Of all y e greifes y 1 doe my patience grate, 
 Thers one y* freetteth in y e highst degree, 
 To see some Caterpilowes bread of late, 
 Cropping y e flowers y 1 should sustaine y e Bee. 
 Yet smiled I j for why, y e wisest knowes 
 Mothes eate v* 5 Clothe, Cankers consumes y e Rose. 
 
piece* of ancient poetry 27 
 
 Once did I see by flying in the feild, 
 
 Foule beasts to brouse vpon the Lillies faire $ 
 
 Vertue nor beauty could noe succor yeld, 
 
 Alls provinder for Asses but y e ayre : 
 
 The partiall world of this takes little heede, 
 To give them flowres y* should on thistles feede. 
 
 Thus I alone must draine y 6 Egiptian flowers, 
 Finding noe savor, bitter sap they have ; 
 & seekes out rotten tombes of dead mens bones j 
 & feede on Lathes growing by y e grave. 
 
 If this I cannot have, as haplesse Bee, 
 
 Wished Tobacco ! I will fly to thee. 
 
 What though I dye my Longs in deepest blacke ? 
 
 A mournefull habitt sutes a sable hearte. 
 
 What if thy fumes sound Memory doe cracke? 
 
 Forgetfullnesse is fittest for my smarte. 
 
 O vertuous Fame ! let it be carv'd in oake, 
 
 Y fc hopes, thoughts, words, & all the world is smoake. 
 
 Fiue yeares twise tould, w th promises perfumed, 
 My hope-stuft head was cast into a slumber; 
 Sweete dreames of gould on dreames I then perfum'd, 
 Amongst the best though I had bine in number; 
 
 But waking found Lusts, hopes, & all were vain ! 
 
 'Twas not Tobacco stupified my braine. 
 
 The foolish fish y* bites at euery bate, 
 & lights at last vpon y e hidden hooke, 
 If she escape & shun y e first deceipt, 
 In euery bate for like will euer looke, 
 
 & soe makes sure by wary watchfull eye, 
 To swim most close, & fishers fraude to flye. 
 e2 
 
28 pieces of ancient Paetrp, 
 
 The little birds y l lights on euery spray, 
 & neuer feares y e birders bad intent, 
 But hopes and playes till he become his praye, 
 At length, though late, is brought unto his bent j 
 But if she doe escape y e burder's hands, 
 She mounts aloft, full loath to light on land. 
 
 Thus fish, thus fowle, thus birds, thus euery beast, 
 By perillsjpast are arm'd for afterclaps j 
 Though reason wants, experience at y e least 
 Of harmes forepast doth make beware such happs: 
 Though wisdome want those daungers to espie, 
 At length, though late, experience makes supply. 
 
 But I, yea I, alas ! most Miser I, 
 
 Then fish more foole, then beasts more brutish am : 
 
 Though reason teach me daungers to discry, 
 
 & nature me w th witt and reason frame, 
 
 I bite the bate, & swallow downe the hooke, 
 
 I rashly run & leape before I looke. 
 
 Alas ! I leape & light before I looke, 
 
 I run on rocks & daungers of dispaire j 
 
 & though I hap vpon y e hidden hooke, 
 
 & scap y 1 chaunce, yet nothing doth me feare : 
 Such folly doth possesse my frantiqe brain, 
 Where late I slipt, I headlunge fall againe. 
 
 Not reason's rule can curbe y e frantique fitt 
 W th in my minde, such foolish mocons prove 
 Noe wisdome soe can rule my wandring witt 
 To make her hold y e course y l best behoves : 
 
 Well then, y e grownd from whence my greife doth grow,. 
 
 The fates I curse, for they have wrought my woe. 
 
pieces of anctent poettg* 29 
 
 Cbace Sorrow, now! for thou hast done y e deedej 
 Loe Care hath now consumed thy Carcasse quite : 
 Noe hope can helpe, nor helpe can stand in steede, 
 For direfull death doth daunt my whole delight ; 
 
 Yet while I heare y e towling of y e Bell, 
 
 Before I dye He singe this fainte farewell. 
 
 Fancy, farewell ! whose love hath wrought my woe, 
 & farewell, woe ! y 1 wearied hast my witts, 
 & farewell, witt ! whome will bewitched soe, 
 & farewell, will ! soe full of frantike fitts ; 
 
 Beauty, farewell ! whose love I feele soe sore j 
 
 & farewell, feeling ! for I feele noe more. 
 
 And lyfe, adew ! w ch I have liv'd & loath j 
 & farewell, love ! which makes me loath my lyfe : 
 Oh love & lyfe, farewell unto you boath ! 
 Twixt hope and fare, farewell, all folish strife ! 
 
 Folly, farewell ! whome I have fancied soe j 
 
 & farewell, fancy ! worker of my woe. 
 
 If 1 would thinke how these my thoughts to leave, 
 Or thinking still my thoughts to have an end ; 
 If rebell sence would reason's law receive, 
 Or reason foyld would not in vaine contend; 
 
 Then might I thinke what thoughts are best to thinke 
 Then might I wisely swim or gladly sinke. 
 
 If either you would chaunge yo r cruell hearte, 
 
 Or cruell still tyme would yo r beautie change ; 
 
 If from my soule this love woulde soone departe, 
 
 Or if for love some love I might obteyne ; 
 
 Then might I hope a change or ease in minde, 
 By yo r good meanes all in myselfe to finde. 
 
30 pieces of ancient paetrp. 
 
 But since my thoughts in thinking still are spente 
 W th reasons strife, my sence is ouerthrowne j 
 You fairer still, & still more cruell bent, 
 I lovinge still a love that loveth none j 
 
 I yeld & striue, I kiss & curse the paine, 
 
 Though reason, sence, tyme, you & I raaineteyne. 
 
 My Love & I for kisses played ; 
 
 She would keepe stakes, I was content ; 
 
 But, when I woone, she would be payed j 
 
 Which made me aske her what she meant j 
 
 Nay, then, quoth she, is this your wrangling vaine } 
 
 Give me my stakes, take you your stakes againe. 
 
 <c Rosa Lilium? 
 
 Ile tell you whence the Rose did first grow red, 
 And whence the Lilly whitenesse borrowed ; 
 You blusht, & then the Rose w th red was dight j 
 The Lilly toucht yo r hands, & grew soe white ; 
 Untill that tyme the Rose had but a staine, 
 The Lilly nought of whitenesse did retaine ; 
 You have the native coul or , these the dye 
 Which only nourish in your Liverye. 
 
 In a mayden time profest, 
 
 Then wee say y 1 life is best j 
 
 Tasting once y e married lyfe, 
 
 Then we only praise the wife $ 
 
IPfecea of ancient pjettp, 31 
 
 There's but one state more to try, 
 
 W ** makes weomen laugh or cryj 
 Widdow, Widdow, of j* three, 
 
 Y e midles best, & y 1 give me. 
 
 Cupid is an idle toye, 
 
 Neuer was there such a boy $ 
 If there were, let any shew, 
 
 Or his quiver, or his bowe, 
 Or a wound by him they got, 
 
 By a broken arrow shot : 
 Mony, Mony makes to bow 5 
 
 That's y e only Gupid now. 
 
 Whilst the world continued good, 
 
 & men lov'd for flesh & blood, 
 Men aboute them bore y e darte 
 
 That did nim a womans harte 5 
 & y e women greate & small, 
 
 -*■*•*■**■* * 
 
 * * * * catcht the men, 
 That was y* only Cupid then. 
 
 Transformed mine eyes, but none transform'd my heart, 
 I cease to striue, w th duble conquest foyld; 
 For woe is me, my howers all I finde 
 W th outward force & inward fury spoyld. 
 
 For from w th out come to mine eyes that blow, 
 Where to mine inward thoughts did fancy yeld, 
 Boath these conspir'd poore reasons ouerthrowj 
 Falce in myself, thus haue 1 lost my feild. 
 
32 pieces of ancient poetry 
 
 Thus are mine eyes still captive to one sight, 
 Thus all my thoughts are slaves to one thought still; 
 Thus reason to his servants yelds his right, 
 Thus are my powres transformed to yo r will. 
 
 What marvaile then, I seeke, & serue, & sue, 
 Since what I see, thinke, know, is all but you ? 
 
 In vaine, mine eyes ! you labour to amend 
 W th flowing teares yo r fault of hasty sight, 
 Since to my hearte her shape you soe doe sende, 
 That her I see, though you did loose yo r light. 
 
 In vaine, my hearte ! (now you w th sight are burn'd) 
 W th sighs you seeke to coole yo r hott desire, 
 Since sighs into mine inward furnace turn'd, 
 For bellowes serve to kindle more y e fire. 
 
 Reason ! in vaine (now you haue lost my hearte) 
 My head you seeke as to yo r strongest forte, 
 Since there mine eyes haue playd soe false a parte 
 Y 1 to yo r strength yo r foes haue since resorte. 
 
 Then since in vaine I finde where all my strife, 
 To this strange vaine I yeld both death & lyfe. 
 
 Care ! thou y l nourishest thy selfe ore bolde, 
 W th Feare encreasing still, & soone dost gaine 
 Creditt to thy suspicons, whilst chill-cold 
 Thou minglest w th a hot & burning Flame j 
 
 By w° h thou all y e kingdomes of mild Loue 
 Dost trouble heavy make, & too much moue. 
 
pieces of ancient pjettg* ss 
 
 Since thou soe soone vpon my sugred sweete 
 Hast mixt thy bitter drugs, hence from my hearte 
 Turne backe to Cocitus & to those Ices deepe, 
 Those sad & woefull waters full of smarte j 
 
 Pack hence to Hell, thou worse then Hellish elfe ! 
 
 There vepe, torm*, & gawle thine inward selfe. 
 
 There w^out rest plong thy wearied days, 
 There let y e nights w th outen sleepe be spent, 
 There torture still & greive thyselfe (alwayes) 
 As well w th doubtfull as sure punishm* j 
 
 Fret thine owne bowells forth, stampe, stare, be mad, 
 
 Be euer heauy, neuer blith, nor glad. 
 
 Dispatch ! begon ! why feircer then before 
 & far more stronger then thou wontst to be 
 (Since venum thine to poyson me y* more 
 Through euery veine disperced is in me) 
 
 Dost thou returne (afresh) in shadowes new. 
 
 Y e more to make me still to waile & rew } 
 
 Care, y e consuming canker of y e mind, 
 The discord y 1 disorders sweetehearts tunes, 
 Th' abortiue bastards of a Cowards kinde, 
 The light-foote lackie y* runs post to death, 
 Denouncing worst to him y l is his frende. 
 
 Men dye, & humaine kinde doth passe away; 
 Yet Care, y* makes them dye, doth eu r stay. 
 
34 iptecea of ancient poetry 
 
 Suspect bewrayes o r thoughts, betrayes o r words, 
 Wounds hearts like swords, & nought but greife affords. 
 
 Nature, Creacons Laws, is iudgd by sence, 
 
 Not by y e Tyrant Conscience ; 
 
 Then o r condission gives vs leave to do 
 
 What youth & pleasure prompts vs to ; 
 
 Else we might question Heavens great decree, 
 
 & tax it w th a kinde of Treachery, 
 
 If things made sweete to tempt y* Appetite 
 
 Should w th a guilt staine the delight. 
 
 Higher powers rules vs, o r selves can nothing doe 
 
 Who made vs Love made it be lawfull too. 
 
 It was not love, but Love transformt to Vice, 
 
 Havisht by envious Avarice, 
 
 Made weomen first inpropriate, all were free, 
 
 Inclosures mans invencons bee : 
 
 In th' auncient law noe accon could be found 
 
 For Trespass on my Neighbours ground : 
 
 'Twas just w th any Faire to mix o r blood j 
 
 Y e best is most defusive good. 
 
 She y 1 confines her beames to one mans sight 
 
 Is a darke lanthorne to a glorious light. 
 
 Say, does y e springe lesse chast appeare 
 
 'Cause many thirsts are quenched there? 
 
 Or haue you nott w th y e same Oderr mett 
 
 When more haue smelt the Violet ? 
 
 Though incense to y e mortall Gods be ment, 
 
 Yet mortalls rivall in the sent. 
 
 Man is y e Lord of Creatures, yet wee see 
 
 Y 1 all his Vassalls Loves are free. 
 
pieces of ancient poettp* 35 
 
 Y e tender Wedlocke fetters doe not binde 
 
 Y e Pardes inflam'd & amorous mind. 
 
 But y l he may be like a Bridegrome ledd 
 
 Euen to y e Royall Lions bedd. 
 
 The Birds may for a yeare their Loves confine, 
 
 But make new choyce each Valentine. 
 
 If o r affeccons then more servile be 
 
 Then are our Slaves, where is mans Sovereignty ? 
 
 Why then be pleasing more should you lesse please, 
 
 Or spare y° r sweetenesse, being more sweete then these > 
 
 If y e freshe trunke haue sapp enough to giue 
 
 Y* each inserted branch may Hue, 
 
 The Gardiner grafts not only Apples there 
 
 But adds y* Warden & the Peare j 
 
 The Peach & Apricock togeth r grow, 
 
 The Cherry & y e Damson too, 
 
 Till he hath made by skillfull husbandry 
 
 An entire Orchard of one tree. 
 
 Soe lest o r Paradice perfeccon wante, 
 
 We may as well inoculate as plant. 
 
 What's Conscience but a Beldams midnight theame, 
 
 Or nodding Nurses idle dreame, 
 
 So faind as are y e Goblins, Elues & Faryes, 
 
 To watch their Orchards & their Dayryes ? 
 
 For who can tell when first her raigne begun ? 
 
 - State of Inocency was none -, 
 
 & since large Conscience (as y e Proverbe shewes) 
 
 In y e same sence w th bad one goes, 
 
 The lesse y e better then whence it will fall : 
 
 'Tis too pfect to have none at all. 
 
 Suppose it be a Virtue & a pure, 
 
 'Tis not for Springe or Somer sure, 
 
 f2 
 
so pieces of ancient poetry 
 
 Nor yet for Autume, Loue must haue his prime, 
 
 His warmer heates & harvest tyme. 
 
 Till we haue flourishst, growne & reapt o r blisses, 
 
 What Conscience dare oppose o r kisses ? 
 
 But when tymes coulder hand leades vs neare home, 
 
 Then let y e Winter vertue come j 
 
 Frost is till then pdigious, we may doe 
 
 What sprightly youth & pleasure prompts vs too. 
 
 Of Cupid. 
 
 All his body is a fire, 
 & his breath a flame intire ; 
 Wheresoere his arrowes misses, 
 He will shoote himselfe in kisses ; 
 At his sight y e same was turnd, 
 Neptune in y e waters burnd, 
 Hell hath felt a greater heate, 
 Jove himselfe forsooke his seatej 
 From the Centre to y e skie 
 Are his Trophies raised high. 
 
 An Epitaph on a beautifull youth w eh dyed being borne blinde. 
 
 Venus hath lost her Cupid, & desires 
 Y e Graces ayde to seeke him for his fires ; 
 Being longe absent, y e greate Paphion queene 
 Hides her sad luster, & noe more is seene 
 In her full glory ; they with weary feete 
 Seeke y e wanton fugitive, & greete 
 
Pittts of ancient poetry 37 
 
 This louely boy : for Cupid him they tooke, 
 Resembling Citherea's archers looke j 
 & that the drooping moth r they might cheere, 
 Plac't him i'th' Zodiac, next to Venus' speare. 
 
 Verses of a double sence. 
 
 Lawers themselves maineteyne | y e comon weale: 
 They punish | such as doe offend & stealej 
 They free w th subtill arte | the Inocent 
 From any daunger, loose of punishment ; 
 They can but will not save | y e world in awe, 
 W th any false or misexpounded lawj 
 They euer haue great store | of Charitie, 
 & loue they wante | not, keeping amitie. 
 
 A lockesmith of o r Parish dyed of late, 
 W ch sure by this tyme is at heauens gatej 
 And there he stands, & will not knock, 
 Because he doth intend to pick the lock. 
 
 Two lawers did in freindship lately jarr, 
 And each comitte his sute at Bachus barr; 
 The Jury was pints, qarts, & pottle potts ; 
 Which, like to desperate hot comaunding shots 
 Brought in their verdict ; w ch noe sooner past, 
 But straight the lawers they themselues were cast. 
 S r Burdeaux Claret & Seigneour Canary 
 Did mounting shoote vp with a cercioraryj 
 
38 pieces of anrtent poetry 
 
 But then a procedendos force was able 
 To throw one Lawer vnderneath the table. 
 The other thought it needefull to demurr, 
 Slept in the chimney, cause he could not stir. 
 And thus though Westminster make clyants stoope 
 The Lawers case was here turnd at the hoope. 
 
 On D r Anions wives lute. 
 
 Pretty Lute ! when I am gone 
 Tell thy M rs . here was one 
 That in his hearte would be contente 
 To play * * * * 
 
 Her answer. 
 
 Pretty Lute ! when I am gone 
 Tell thy M r . here was one 
 That in hir hearte would be contente 
 To be at his commaundement. 
 
 Rest awhile, you cruell cares ! 
 
 Be not more severe then love : 
 Beuty kills & beutie spares, 
 
 & sweete smiles sad remove. 
 
 Laura, faire Queen of my delight ! 
 Come, graunte me loue in Loves despight > 
 And if I euer faile to honor yee, 
 Let this heavenlye sight I see 
 Be as darke as hell, as me. 
 
 If I speake, my words want waight ; 
 
 Am I mute, my hearte doth breake j 
 If I sigh, she feares deceite : 
 
 Sorrow then for me must speake 
 
pieces of 3tnctent poettp* 39 
 
 Creuell vnkinde ! w th favor vew 
 Y c wound y* first was made by you $ 
 
 And if my torments faigned be, 
 
 Let this heavenlye sight I see 
 
 Be as darke as hell, as me. 
 
 Neuer hower of pleasing rest 
 
 Shall revive my dying ghost, 
 Till my soule hath reposest 
 
 Y e sweete hope w ch love hath lost. 
 Laura! redeeme y e soule y* dyes 
 By fury of thy murdering eyes j 
 
 And if it proves vnkind to thee, 
 Let this heavenlye sight I see n 
 
 Be as darke as hell, as me. 
 
 In sorrowes Cell I layed me downe to sleepe, 
 
 But waking woes were jealous of mine eyes : 
 
 They made them watch, & bound themselves to weepe 5 
 But weeping teares, their want could not suffice $ 
 
 Yet sith they wept for her who guides my hearte, 
 
 They weeping smile, & triumph in their smarte. 
 
 Of these my teares a fountaine fircely springs, 
 
 Where Venus bathes herselfe incenst w th Love, 
 
 Where Cupid bouseth his faire fethered wings $ 
 But I beheld w l paines I must approve. 
 
 Care drinks it dry ; but when on her I thinke, 
 
 Loue makes me weepe it full vnto the brinke. 
 
 Meanewhile my sighs yeld truce unto my teares 5 
 By them y e winds encrease & fercely blow - 3 
 
 Yet when I sigh y e flame more plaine appeares, 
 & by their force w th greater power doth glow. 
 
40 pitm of ancient poetry 
 
 Amidst these paines all Phoenix like I thrive, 
 Sith love y* yelds me death my life revive. 
 
 Turne I my lookes vnto y e skies, 
 
 Love with his arrowes wounds mine eyes; 
 
 If soe I looke upon y e ground, 
 
 Love then in euery flowre is found ; 
 
 Search I the shade to fly my paine, 
 
 He meetes me in y e shade againe^ 
 
 Wende I to walke in secret grove, 
 
 Even there I meete w th sacred love ; 
 
 If soe I bath it in y e spring, 
 
 Even on y e brinke I heare him sing - t 
 
 If soe I meditate alone, 
 
 He wil be partner of my moane ; 
 
 If soe I morne, he weepes w th mee, 
 
 & where I am there will he bee ; 
 
 When as I talke of C , 
 
 Y e God from coynesse waxeth kinde, 
 & seemes in selfe same flames to fry, 
 Because he loves as well as I 
 
 Sweete C ! for pity rue 
 
 For why then love I am more true. 
 He, if he speede, will quickly fly, 
 But in thy loue lie Hue and dye. 
 
 END OF THE FIRST SECTION. 
 
pieces of &tmmt $oetrjn 
 
 THE SECOND SECTION. 
 
 A HE contents of this division are taken from different unpublished 
 manuscripts, described in the introductory notices to each poem. 
 
 A CHRISTMAS CAROL. 
 
 [Whilst these pages were going through the press, the editor met 
 with a rare old tract, printed in the fifteenth century, entitled Tractatus 
 Sancti Bonaventure doctoris seraphici Cardinalis et episcopis albanens. 
 de quatuor exerciciis; the fly-leaves of which were occupied by the 
 following old poem, written in a very early hand, and apparently coeval 
 with the date of the volume itself. He conceived it to be curious enough 
 to deserve a place in the present collection, and, with considerable trou- 
 ble, succeeded, after various fruitless attempts, in transcribing it : some 
 difficulties, however, even to the last," prevented his being able to de- 
 cypher a few of the words, which are left blank in the printed copy; but 
 that the reader may himself decide upon those difficulties, a fac-simile is 
 inserted of the lines in which they occurred ; and if he be curious in such 
 matters, there is scope for his fancy and room for his judgment. The 
 editor might have supplied those omissions with conjectural elucidations, 
 but this, where so much doubt prevailed, he did not feel himself inclined 
 to. — The contractions of the original MS. and also the Saxon characters, 
 are preserved with exact fidelity.] 
 
 1 
 Confide fili )> { synnys but for geue 
 fFor t'sciall cause of redempcion ; 
 
 G 
 
42 pieces of ancient poettp. 
 
 Dispare y nojt haw eu y leue, 
 
 Gyty e m"cy is yn }>' faderse possescyon, 
 
 Clayme h l for }>' erytage by reson, 
 
 & y schalt haue h 1 to )>i mede ; 
 
 ffor any stronge temptacoon y fallit y on, 
 
 Mist'st \> e neu r ma for y mysdede. 
 
 2 
 I ame y fad r J> 1 sittyt in trone, 
 I se y lowe vnd r my feete, 
 I wrorppyd yn synnys ful many on, 
 I mygt ofte smyte whane I y dret, 
 Ofte myjt I y into payins gete, 
 ffor pety I spare, woldist y take hede ; 
 To se my wonds at reuful plete, 
 Mist'ste y neu r ma for thj mysdede. 
 
 3 
 
 I bade y aske for <■ I wolde, 
 
 I bade y seche & I walde save, 
 T bade y t'ste & make y bolde, 
 Aske of y broth r & y schalt havve ; 
 
 Vnkynde y arte ma me to , 
 
 Syth ]> u woldyst nogt we I y bede ; 
 y on fote wepeful ney 
 
 Mist'ste y neiC mane for y mysdede. 
 
 4 
 
 hit greuit me more of cainys myschif 
 Daine J> e kyllyng of Abel y was good ; 
 hit displesyd me more J>t Judas was lost 
 J>ane syllyng y he schold me to y Rode ; 
 pylat & Erawde y were so wode 
 my m"cy to ham nold I neu r forbede, 
 w 1 stond stond no man as j>ay w l stode j 
 Mist'ste y neu r ma for y mysded. 
 
l^teces of ancient jpoetrp, 43 
 
 5 
 I wold rader daye a gane 
 thane on drope of my m'cy wer fond drye, 
 
 hit is ful to suffre payne ; 
 
 To sawe a saule eu r lastyngly 
 I haue ful pore & mastry; 
 A kyngs h word schal stand i sted ; 
 Wy fleiste J> u mane for \P foly ? 
 Mist'ste \ e neu r . 
 
 6 
 
 loke vp to J> e Crosse, & se a j>eue 
 
 for onys axynge m'cy he gotte , 
 
 And also paule y- dyd me grete rep've, 
 A worthy postel aft"ward he was ; 
 mary maudlyn axyd m"cy for her trespas, 
 And pet r forsoke me iij tymys for drede, 
 Ho ys more worthy w l yn my plase ? 
 Mystryst the neu r ma for thy mysdede. 
 
 7 
 Loke vppe to heuyn, & see a mayde 
 off thyne owne kynrede, ycrownyd a quene, 
 yfF y be crewyll sche wolle euyll a payde, 
 ffor bretheryn & systryn bothe we byne$ 
 Sche ys my mother, yther here not tene, 
 YfF y be off her m~cy take hede ; 
 Sche woll not leue the lygtly as y wene, 
 Mystryst the neic. 
 
 8 
 my mother sche fallythe a downe to me, 
 and cryyth for man that lyythe yn synne & care j 
 And y to my father fall yn kne, 
 y schewe hym my wonds, & my body bare j 
 
44 pieces of anctent poetrp. 
 
 He mygthe wome the m"cy there, 
 Thojif deth were by the, yet scholds y spede 
 In wele & yn wo how y l eu r thow fare, 
 Synne thow not apon trest for y ys drede ; 
 qui peccat in spe p'cat in spu sto. 
 
 9 
 
 Wen that my mother her brests to me dyd schew, 
 Y wote well sche fedde me, & my mother sche ys ; 
 Than mvst y redly my m'cy forth drawe, 
 w* stondyng off any rythwysenesj 
 Soche a weked ma y hast T blisse, 
 scho woteful well wat ys dort ned, 
 marcy for y wel scho nagt mysse j 
 Mist'st y neu r for y. 
 
 10 
 
 Wat lakkt y man ? now wolte y more ? 
 And y hawe mynd here is Socoure ; 
 And y be lloste telle one by fore, 
 We know 1 y gou r nans in eury oure ; 
 £> duell y s I p'son, here is y bourej 
 Come home ajene, & take here y mede, 
 In heuene blyse w l moche honorej 
 And ne myst'st \ e neu r ma for thy mysded. 
 
IPteces of ancient i^oetrp, 45 
 
 In praise of a good minde. 
 
 [Transcribed from an old MS. written ante 1591, A treatise enty tided the 
 treasure of a good mynde: famyliarlie written to afrinde by Ry chard Denys 
 esquyer; concerning which see British Bibliographer, vol. ii. p. 56, and 
 The Legend of Mary and other Ancient Poems, 1810, p. 158.] 
 
 What thinge of greater price 
 
 On earth maye any fynde, 
 What gould or ryches may compare 
 
 Wyth vertu of the mynde ? 
 The mynde doth still possesse 
 
 In Man a kinglie place, 
 And guydes the steppes of mortall wightes, 
 
 And rules in everye case j 
 So that yf that the mynde 
 
 To ought addicted be. 
 What parte of man doth not obey, 
 
 And therto doth agree } 
 Who that can rule his mynde 
 
 And thynks all pleasures vayne, 
 How greate a Lorde is he in thoughte., 
 
 How princelie doth he raigne ! 
 No worldlie wealth cann move 
 
 His mynde synne to obeye, 
 No force compell him once to yeeld 
 
 Vnto his owne decaye. 
 To vanquysh all delighte 
 
 That vertu hath in hate, 
 A good well ordred mynde doth seeke, 
 
 And twice a happie state. 
 
46 pieces of ancient Poetry 
 
 No yll can happe to mann 
 
 But by the myndes consent -, 
 No vice doth grow whereas the mynd 
 
 To vertu still is bent. 
 All pride to him is ruyne, 
 
 Humylitie is joyej 
 In Charitie is his delight, 
 
 And envie his anoye. 
 Yf Anger ryse in thought, 
 
 Repentance doeth ensue ; 
 And patience, through his victorie, 
 
 Receyves his honor due. 
 All Avarice he takes 
 
 To be his mortall foe, 
 And doth esteeme it pouertie, 
 
 Thoughe fewe esteeme it so. 
 To lyve in meane estate 
 
 Is chieflie his delighte, 
 And thinkes that mediocritie 
 
 Is Ryches in his sighte. 
 All glottony he takes 
 
 As foolyshnes to be, 
 And euermore sobrietie 
 
 Wyth wysdome to agree. 
 Volupteousnes he hates, 
 
 W ch Idlenes doth breede, 
 And doth beleve that chastitie 
 
 Shall see the Lord indeede. 
 From slowth, the roote of vice> 
 
 He daielie seekes to flee, 
 And takes all good industerie 
 
 A vertu for to be. 
 In worldlie ioy sometyme 
 
 A sorowe doth he fynde, 
 
pieces of Stoctent pjtftp* 4? 
 
 And in the greatest sorow hath 
 
 Most comfort of the mynde. 
 Affliction being sente 
 
 By suffering, though w th paine, 
 He makes it to himself no grief, 
 
 But turnes it to his gayne. 
 Though worldlie wealth he want 
 
 That many hath at wyll, 
 Yet still his mynd forbids him crave. 
 
 And seeke to do no ill. 
 And to conclude, the mynde 
 
 That vertu doth embrace, 
 May soone suppresse all wycked thoughts, 
 
 And ioy in happie case. 
 Yf any maner wighte 
 
 Be any waye ill bente, 
 By vertu of his mynd he maie 
 
 Turne from his ill intente. 
 Yf any maner griefe 
 
 Doe mvch oppresse the mynde, 
 The mynde itself may cure itself, 
 
 And remedye may finde. 
 Now will I saie no more, 
 
 But he that doeth enioy 
 So good a mynd, so greate a grace, 
 
 May lyve w th out anoye. 
 
 Jinis. 
 
 h 2 
 
48 $itm of anctent jportrp. 
 
 In the praise of vertu. 
 [This is also taken from the same MS. volume as the last.] 
 
 Who wyll ensue the statelie steppes 
 
 That mountes to honor hie, 
 And doth entende wyth fame to lyve 
 
 And after mounte the skie, 
 Lett him first clymbe the loftie hill 
 
 Whereon dame Prudence syttes, 
 Wyth watchfull eye there to behould 
 
 All things that chieflie fyttes, 
 To know and see and to ensue 
 
 The partes of noble wyttes. 
 Wyth prudence there shall he perceyve 
 
 That Justice syttes in sighte, 
 W th sworde in hand and ballance eke, 
 
 To yeeld to each a right, 
 And force that breakes the piller strong 
 
 And yeelds to no myschaunce, 
 But constantly can well subdue 
 
 Herself & eke advance ; 
 And temperaunce, that measure keepes 
 
 And modestie doth vsej 
 Thes worthie ladies all are such 
 
 As noble myndes shuld choose. 
 Who hath bin therfore trayned vp 
 
 In lady learnings lore, 
 And treades the path of vertu right, 
 
 As some hath done before, 
 Lett him thes ladies all embrace 
 
 And seeke their friendlie ayde, 
 By whome they may to honor come 
 
 And neede not be dysmayde. 
 
pieces of Ancient poettp, 49 
 
 The mynde that beastlie beares the shew 
 
 Of ryches to atteyne, 
 And doth preferre such worldlie trashe 
 
 Before all honors gayne, 
 Lett him from honor be exempte 
 
 And counted worldlie wise, 
 And lett them that haue noble mynds 
 
 To honor that waie ryse. 
 For vertue is the onelie meane 
 
 This honor to atteyne, 
 Wythout the w ch the glyttering gould 
 
 And all things else are vayne. 
 He that by vertu honor seekes 
 
 And hath her for hys guyde, 
 By it may well assure himself 
 
 To stand when others slyde. 
 Who vauntes therfore of ryches greate 
 
 Therby to winne the hate 
 Of many to atteyne the same 
 
 Lyves in vnhappie state; 
 But who that vertu doth embrace, 
 
 And honor doth maynteyne, 
 Is worthy prayse among the best, 
 
 How ever be his gayne. 
 Such none lett vaunt himself, therfore, 
 
 That bragges of My das joye, 
 Who could not quench his thirst w th gould, 
 
 W ch was his chief anoy. 
 To tread the steppes of vertu then 
 
 Lett all things else goe bye : 
 Who still doe kepe a noble mynde 
 
 His treasure there may lie. 
 She is the crowne of worthie fame,, 
 
 The comfort of the soule, 
 
50 pteces of ancient jpoettp. 
 
 A wight that shines aboue the rest 
 
 That no law can controll. 
 No grief or carefull case at all 
 
 Can make her once to drowpe, 
 No prosperous state lyft vp her head, 
 
 No fortune make her stowpe. 
 No vayne abused hope, no gayne, 
 
 Or vaunting glorie greate, 
 Can once remove her from her place 
 
 Where she hath made her seate. 
 No fearefull happes or doubtfull chaunce 
 
 Can make her once afrayde, 
 Who can by no meanes suffer harme, 
 
 Nor yet can be dysmayd. 
 Come rushing in who lyst in hast, 
 
 When others start aside, 
 And rounes away for sodaine fear, 
 
 Dame vertu will not hide. 
 When Atropose doth shake his darte, 
 
 She hath no cause to feare : 
 No threatning plagues or doubt of death 
 
 Can make her chaynge her chere. 
 She onely doth defende the mynde 
 
 From thoughtes of wycked synne, 
 And doth subdue them at the fyrst, 
 
 As soone as they begynne. 
 She doth reioyce the inward man 
 
 W th sweete and pleasaunt ioyes, 
 And dryves awaye all worldlie cares 
 
 W ch be her chief anoyes. 
 She onely doth subdue the rage 
 
 And staies the furie greate 
 Of all affections of the mynde 
 
 In their most chieffest heate. 
 
pieces of anctent pjetrp* 51 
 
 She causeth man to leade his lief 
 
 In joy full happie state, 
 And by her may procure himself 
 
 Both good and happie fate. 
 By her is perfytt pleasure woone, 
 
 W th ioye of inward mynde : 
 Yf thow seeke prayse by due desert, 
 
 By her thow shalt it fynde. 
 Yf thow seeke after happie lief, 
 
 A happie death to die, 
 By her thow maist atteyne therto 
 
 And after mount the skie. 
 Loe thus is vertu of the mynde 
 
 The JueU of this life, 
 The onelie staie of happie state, 
 
 A gyft that is not ryef. 
 And as the glyttering gould doe shine, 
 
 From forge all fined new, 
 So doe they shine aboue the rest, 
 
 That vertu doth ensue. 
 
 finif. 
 
 Johnny Cock. 
 A Scotish Ballad. 
 
 [" The reverend Mr. Boyd, the ingenious translator of Dante, has a 
 w faint recollection of a ballad called Johnny Cox." Ritson's Historical 
 Essay on Scotish Song, p. xxxvi.] 
 
 Johnny Cock, in a May morning, 
 
 Sought water to wash his hands ; 
 And he is awa to louse his dogs, 
 
 That's tied wi Iron bans, 
 
 That's tied wi Iron bans. 
 
52 pieces of ancient poetry 
 
 His coat it is of the light Lincum green, 
 And his breiks are of the same j 
 
 His shoes are of the American leather, 
 Silver buckles tying them, 
 Silver buckles &c. 
 
 'He' hunted up, and so did 'he' down, 
 Till 'he' came to yon bush of scrogs, 
 
 And then to yon wan water, 
 
 Where he slept among his dogs, 
 Where he slept &c. 
 
 * 
 
 Johnny Cock out-shot a the Foresters, 
 
 And out-shot a the three ; 
 Out-shot a the foresters, 
 
 Wounded Johnny aboun the bree, 
 
 Wounded Johnny &c. 
 
 Woe be to you, foresters ! 
 
 And an ill death may you die ; 
 For there would not a wolf in a the wood, 
 
 Have done the like to me, 
 
 Have done &c. 
 
 For ''twould ha' put its foot in the coll water, 
 And ha strinkled it on my bree j 
 
 And gin that would not have done, 
 Would have gane and lett me be,. 
 Would have gane &c. 
 
 
IPteces of ancient poetrp. 53 
 
 I often took to my mother 
 
 The dandoo and the roej 
 But now II take to my mother 
 
 Much sorrow and much woe, 
 
 Much sorrow &c. 
 
 I often took to my mother 
 
 The dandoo and the hare j 
 But now II take to my mother 
 
 Much sorrow and much care, 
 
 Much sorrow &c. 
 
 Fifteen foresters in the braid alow, 
 And they are wondrous fell ; 
 
 To get a drop of Johnny's heart bluid, 
 
 They would sink a their souls to hell. 
 
 Johnny Cock has gotten word of this, 
 
 And he is wondrous keen : 
 He custan off the Red scarlet, 
 
 And on 'wi' the linkum green $ 
 
 And he is ridden oer muir and muss, 
 
 And over mountains high, 
 Till he came to yon wan water ; 
 
 And there Johnny Cock did lie. 
 
 He's taen out a horn from his side, 
 And he blew both loud and shrill, 
 
 Till a the fifteen foresters 
 
 Heard Johnny Cock blaw his horn. 
 
 They have sworn a bluidy oath, 
 
 And they swore all in one, 
 That there was not a man among them a, 
 
 Would blaw such a blast as yon. 
 
54 pteces of ancient jpoettp. 
 
 And they have ridden oer muir and muss, 
 And over mountains high, 
 
 Till they came to yon wan water, 
 Where Johnny Cock did lie. 
 
 They have shotten little Johnny Cock 
 A little above the ee j 
 
 * 
 
 For doing the like to me. 
 
 There's not a wolf in a the word 
 Woud 'ha' done the like to me, 
 
 'She'd ha' dipped her foot in coll water, 
 And strinkled above my ee. 
 
 And if I would have waked for that, 
 'She'd ha' gane and let me be. 
 
 But fingers five., come here ! 
 
 And faint hearted fail me nought ; 
 And silver strings, value me sma things, 
 
 Till I get all this vengeance rowght ! 
 
 He ha shot a the fifteen foresters, 
 Left never a one but one ; 
 
 And he broke the ribs a that anes side, 
 And let him take tiding home. 
 
 They have ridden oer muir and muss, 
 And over mountains high, 
 
 Till they met wi ' an' old palmer 
 Was walking along the way. 
 
 What news, what news, old palmer ! 
 
 What news have you to me ? 
 Yonder is one of the proudest wed sons 
 
 That ever my eyes did see, 
 
Pteces of anctent pottt$. 55 
 
 * a bird in a the wood 
 Could sing as I could say; 
 It would go in to my mothers bows, 
 
 And bid her kiss me, and take me away. 
 
 The editor has found amongst his papers the ensuing ballad, but 
 from whence he obtained it, his recollection fails in assisting him to 
 ascertain. He believes, however, from circumstances, that it must be 
 old, although the particular reasons which induced him to form such an 
 opinion are now forgotten : at any rate, its insertion here, as it fills up 
 what would else be a vacant space, can do little harm. 
 
 There was an old couple, and they were poor, 
 
 Fa la, Fa la la lee ! 
 They liv'd in a house that had but one door; 
 Oh ! what a poor couple were they. 
 
 The old man once he went far from his home, 
 
 Fa la, &c. 
 The old woman afraid was to stay alone, 
 Oh ! what a weak woman was she. 
 
 The old man he came home at last, 
 
 Fa la, &c. 
 And found the windows and door all fast j 
 Oh ! what is the matter ? quoth he. 
 
 Oh ! I have been sick since you have been gone, 
 
 Fa la, &c. 
 If you'd been in the garden, you'd heard me groan ; 
 Oh ! I'm sorry for that, quoth he. 
 
 i2 
 
56 pieces of ancient poetrp* 
 
 I have a request to make unto thee, 
 
 Fa la, &c. 
 To pluck me an apple from yonder tree. 
 Aye that will I, marry, quoth he. 
 
 The old man tried to get up in the tree, 
 
 Fa la, &c. 
 But the ladder it fell, and down tumbled he 
 That's cleverly done, said she. 
 
 END OF THE SECOND SECTION, 
 
pieces of 'Mtimt $otfrp* 
 
 THE THIRD SECTION. 
 
 FROM SCARCE PRINTED BOOKS. 
 
 Platonick Love. 
 
 [From the Loyal Garland, 1686, a volume of extraordinary rarity, 
 belonging to Francis Freeling, Esq. considered by Beloe, vide his 
 Anecdotes, to be unique.] 
 
 Fond Lovers! what do you mean, 
 To court an idle folly? 
 Platonick Love is nothing else 
 But meerly Melancholly; 
 Tis active Love that makes us jolly. 
 
 To dote upon a face, 
 Or court a sparkling eye, 
 Or to believe a dimpled chin 
 Compleat felicity, 
 Tis to betray your liberty. 
 
 She cares not for your sighs, 
 Nor your lamenting eyes, 
 She hates to hear a fool complain 
 And cry, he dyes, he dyes ; 
 Believe she loves a close surprize. 
 
58 pieces of ancient pjetrp. 
 
 Then be no more so fond 
 As to think a Woman can 
 Be satisfied with complements, 
 The frothy part of a man : 
 Oh no! she hates a Puritan. 
 
 Then venture to embrace j 
 Tis but one squeak or two : 
 I'm confident no woman lives, 
 But sometimes she will do : 
 The fault lies not in her, but you. 
 
 The merry Bells of Oxford. 
 [From the same volume.] 
 
 Oh the merry Christ-Church Bells ! 
 One, two, three, four, five, six 5 
 They troul so wondrous deep, 
 So woundy sweet, 
 And they chime so merrily, merrily. 
 Hark ! the first and second Bell 
 
 At e'ry day, by four and ten, 
 Cries, come, come, come, come, come to Prayers j 
 And the Vergers troop before the Deans . 
 Tincle, tincle, tincle, goes the little Bell, 
 To call in e'ry Soul ; 
 But the devil a Man 
 Will leave his Can, 
 Till they hear the mighty Toul. 
 
pieces of ancient poetry 59 
 
 Song, 
 [From The New Academy of Complements.'] 
 
 If any so wise is 
 
 That Sack he despises, 
 Let him drink his small Beer and be sober : 
 
 Whilst we drink Sack and Sing, 
 
 As if it were Spring, 
 He shall droop, like the trees in October. 
 
 But be sure over-night, 
 
 If this Dog do you bite, 
 You take it henceforth for a warning; 
 
 Soon out of your bed, 
 
 To settle your head, 
 Take a hair of his tail in the morning. 
 
 And be not so silly, 
 
 To follow old Lilly, 
 For there's nothing but Sack that can tune us : 
 
 Let his Ne assuescas, 
 
 Be put in his Cap-case, 
 And sing Bi-bi-to Vinum Je-junus. 
 
 Song. 
 [From the same volume.] 
 
 The Morning doth waste; 
 
 To the Meadows let's haste, 
 For the Sun doth with glory shine on them ; 
 
 The Maidens must rake, 
 
 Whilst the Hay-cocks we make, 
 Then merrily tumble upon them. 
 
60 Uteres of ancient potftp. 
 
 The envy of Court 
 
 Ne'r aims at our sport, 
 For we live both honest and meanly. 
 
 Their Ladies are fine, 
 
 But to Venus incline ; 
 And our Lasses are harmless and cleanly. 
 
 Then let us advance 
 
 Our selves in a Dance, 
 And afterward fall to our labour; 
 
 No measure we mete, 
 
 Nor Musick so sweet 
 To us, as a Pipe and a Tabor. 
 
 Dialogue Pastoral, Strephon and Phillis. 
 [From the same volume.] 
 
 Phill. Strephon, what envious cloud hath made 
 All o're thy Face, this sullen shade ? 
 
 Streph.lt is the Index of my grief. 
 
 Phil. But say, admits it no relief? 
 
 Thy now neglected Flock doth stray, 
 
 The Wolf securely takes his prey, 
 
 And thy discarded Pipes lie by, 
 
 Whilst thou under some Beach does lie, 
 
 Or Mirtle in the shady Grove, 
 
 And sigh'st and pin'st like one in love. 
 
 Streph. Ah ! Phillis, thou hast toucht me now : 
 I can't my Passion disavow ; 
 And that word Love my Heart does rise, 
 And with it strangely sympathize. 
 
 P. But who did thus your Heart surprize ? 
 
pieces of 3nctent poetrp* 61 
 
 S. It was the Shepherdess, whose Eyes 
 
 Are brighter far than any Ray 
 
 The Sun disclosed on May-day. 
 P. Who was it Strephon ? Tell me true. 
 S. Ah! dearest Phillis, it was You. 
 P. Strive not, false Shepherd, to deceive 
 
 A Nymph too easie to believe 
 
 A Passion which she likes so well : 
 
 Such falshood would deserve a Hell. 
 S. May the Gods for whom fat Lambs I feed. 
 
 That on their smoaking Altars bleed, 
 
 All my devoutest Prayers despise, 
 
 And all my humble Sacrifice ; 
 
 Or what's a greater Curse, may I 
 
 Find nought from thee but Cruelty, 
 
 If I do love my Phillis less 
 
 Than my own greatest Happiness. 
 
 If truth doth not in Swains reside, 
 
 Where is she in the World beside ? 
 Phil. I can't distrust so lov'd a truth, 
 
 Deliver'd by so sweet a Youth. 
 Ch. Let's join our hands and hearts, and we'll out- vie. 
 Of two. The Gods themselves with our felicity. 
 Cho, Let those that in deceitful Courts do dwell, 
 Cho. Delay their Joys, and tedious suits pursue, 
 Voic. Our honest words their courtship far excel : 
 
 'Mongst unambitious Shepherds love is true. 
 
62 ipteces of anctent IPoettp, 
 
 Song. 
 
 [From the same volume.] 
 
 At dead low ebb of night, when none 
 
 But great Ctiarles's wain was driven on$ 
 
 When mortals strict cessation keep, 
 
 To re-recruit themselves with sleep, 
 
 T[w]as then a Boy knockt at my Gate, 
 
 Who's there, say I, that calls so late? 
 
 Oh ! let me in, he soon reply'd : 
 
 I am a Child ; and then he cry'd, 
 
 I wander without Guide or light, 
 
 Lost in this wet, blind, Moonless night. 
 
 In pity then I rose, 
 
 And straight unbarr'd my door and sprang a light ; 
 
 Behold, it was a lovely Boy ! a sweeter sight 
 
 Ne're blest my eye. 
 
 I view'd him round, and saw strange things, 
 A Bow, a Quiver, and two Wings ; 
 I led him to the fire, and then 
 I dry'd and chafed his hands with mine ; 
 I gently press'd his tresses curies, 
 WTiich new fain rain had hung with Pearls. 
 At last, when warm, the youngster said, 
 Alas, my Bow ! I am afraid 
 The string is wet ; pray Sir, let's try 
 My Bow. On that, do, do, say I. 
 He bent, and shot so quick and smart, 
 As through my Liver reach'd my Heart ; 
 Then in a trice he took his flight, 
 \nd laughing said, my Bow is right : 
 It is, oh ! 'tis, for as he spoke, 
 Twas not his Bow, but mv heart broke 
 
pieces of ancient poetrp, 63 
 
 Song. 
 
 [From the same volume.] 
 
 Come, Jack ! Let's drink a Pot of Ale, 
 And I shall tell thee such a Tale, 
 
 Will make thine Ears to ring : 
 My Coyn is spent, my Time is lost, 
 And I this only Fruit can boast, 
 
 That once I saw my King. 
 But this doth most afflict my mind : 
 I went to Court in hope to find 
 
 Some of my Friends in place ; 
 And walking there, I had a sight 
 Of all the Crew j but by this light ! 
 
 I hardly knew one Face. 
 S'life ! of so many noble Sparks, 
 Who on their Bodies bare the Marks 
 
 Of their Integrity, 
 And suffered ruin of Estate, 
 It was my base unhappy Fate, 
 
 That I not one could see. 
 Not one, upon my life ! among 
 My old acquaintance all along, 
 
 At Truro and before. 
 And I suppose the place can show, 
 As few of those whom thou didst know 
 
 At York, or Marston-More. 
 But truly there are swarms of those 
 Whose Chins are Beardless, yet their Nose, 
 
 And backsides still wear Muffs ; 
 Whilst the old rusty Cavalier 
 Retires, and dares not once appear, 
 
 For want of Coyn and Cuflfs ; 
 k2 
 
64 pieces of ancient poetry 
 
 When none of those I could descry, 
 Who better far deserved than I, 
 
 I calmly did reflect : 
 Old Servants they, by rule of State, 
 Like Almanacks grow out of date, 
 
 What then can I expect ? 
 Troth ! in contempt of Fortune's frown, 
 I'll fairly get me out of Town, 
 
 And in a Cloyster pray, 
 That since the Stars are yet unkind 
 To Royalists, the King may find, 
 
 More faithful Friends than the}'. 
 
 Song. 
 
 [From the same volume.] 
 
 I marvel, Dick! that having been 
 So long abroad, and having seen 
 
 The World as thou hast done, 
 Thou shouldst acquaint me with a tale, 
 As old as Nectar, and as stale 
 
 As that of Priest or Nun. 
 Are we to learn what is at Court, 
 A Pageant made for Fortune's sport, 
 
 Where Merits scarce appear ? 
 For bashful merit only dwells 
 In Camps, in Villages, and Cells ; 
 
 Alas ! it comes not there. 
 Desert is nice in its Address, 
 And merit oft-times doth oppose 
 
Ipiece* of ancient poetry 65 
 
 Beyond what Guilt would doj 
 But they are sure of their Demands 
 That come to Court with Golden Hands, 
 
 And brazen Faces too. 
 The King indeed doth still profess 
 To give his Party soon redress, 
 
 And cherish honesty $ 
 But his good wishes prove in vain, 
 Whose Service with the Servants gain 
 
 Not always to agree. 
 Ah ! Princes, be they never so wise y 
 Are fain to see with other eyes, 
 
 But seldom hear at all ; 
 And Courtiers find their Interest 
 In time feather well their Nest, 
 
 Providing for their fall. 
 Our comfort doth on him depend, 
 Things when they are at worst will mend : 
 
 And let us but reflect 
 On our Condition t'other Day, 
 When none but Tyrants bore the sway, 
 
 What did we then expect ? 
 Mean while, a calm Retreat is best $ 
 But Discontent, if not supprest, 
 
 May breed Disloyalty. 
 This is the constant Note I'll sing : 
 I have been faithful to my King, 
 
 And so shall live and die. 
 
66 Pieces of ancient poetry 
 
 Catch, or Song. 
 [From the same volume.] 
 
 Pompey was a mad-man, a mad-man, 
 
 Pompey was a mad-man, a mad-man was he 3 
 
 So long he was a glad-man, a glad-man, 
 
 So long he was a glad-man, and a glad-man was he, 
 
 Till Ccesar from Pharsalia, routed his Batalia, 
 
 'Cause he was a madder, a madder far than he. 
 Then be thou mad, and I mad, and mad let us be 5 
 And the Devil himself shan't be madder than we. 
 
 Song. 
 
 [From the same volume.] 
 
 Poor Celia once was very fair, 
 
 A quick bewitching Eye she had, 
 Most neatly look'd her braided Hair, 
 
 Her dainty Cheeks would make you mad : 
 Upon her Lips did all the Graces play, 
 And on her breasts ten thousand Cupids lay. 
 
 Then many a doting Lover came, 
 From seventeen to twenty-one j 
 Each told her of his flame ; 
 
 But she, forsooth, affected none : 
 One was not handsom, the other was not fine. 
 This of Tobacco smelt, and that of Wine. 
 
Ipteces of 9mtent poetry 67 
 
 But th' other day it was my fate 
 
 To pass along that way alone ; 
 I saw no Coach before her Gate, 
 But at her door I heard her moan, 
 And drop'd a tear, and sighing seem'd to say, 
 Young Ladies, marry, marry whilst you may ! 
 
 Song. 
 
 [From the same volume.] 
 
 How severe is forgetful old Age, 
 To confine a poor Lover so, 
 That I almost despair, 
 To see even the Man, 
 Much more my dear Damon, hey ho ! 
 
 Though I whisper my sighs out alone, 
 I am trac'd so wherever I go, 
 That some treacherous tree 
 Hides this old Man from me, 
 And he counts every Hey ho ! 
 
 How shall I this Argus blind, 
 
 And so put an end to my woe ? 
 For whilst I beguile 
 All his Frowns with a smile, 
 I betray myself with a Hey ho ! 
 
 My restraint then, alas ! must endure, 
 So that since sad my Doom I know, 
 
 I'll pine for my Love, 
 
 Like the Turtle Dove, 
 And breath out my Life in Hey ho ! 
 
68 iptecea of ancient pottrp. 
 
 From Skelton's phillip sparowe, 12 mo Marshe 1568. 
 
 Though I can rede and spell, 
 
 Recount, report, and tell 
 
 Of the talks of Caunterbury, 
 
 Some sad storyes, some merry 5 
 
 As Palomon and Arcet, 
 
 Duke Theseus and partelet, 
 
 And of the wife of bath, 
 
 That worketh much scathe 
 
 Whan her tale is told 
 
 Among huswiues bold, 
 
 How she controld 
 
 Her husbandes as she wold, 
 
 And theim to dispise 
 
 In the homeliest wise, 
 
 Bring other wiues in thought 
 
 their husbandes to set at naught ; 
 
 And though that red haue I 
 
 Of Gawen and syr Guy, 
 
 And tel can a great peece 
 
 Of the golden fleece, 
 
 How Jason it wan 
 
 Like a valiaunt man ; 
 
 Of Arturs round table, 
 
 with his knightes commedable, 
 
 And dame Gaynour hys Quene, 
 
 was somwhat wanton I wene$ 
 
 How syr Launcelote de Lake 
 
 Many a speare brake 
 
 For hys Ladyes sake ; 
 
 Of Tristrom, and kyng Marke, 
 
 And al the whole warke 
 
pteces of ancient jpoetrg* 69 
 
 Of bele I sold his wife, 
 
 For whom was much strife ; 
 
 Some say she was lyght, 
 
 And made her husband knyght 
 
 Of the common hall 
 
 That cuckoldes men callj 
 
 And of sir Libius 
 
 Named Disconius ; 
 
 Of quarter fylz Amunde, 
 
 And how they were sommond 
 
 To Rome, to Charlemayne, 
 
 Upon a great payne, 
 
 And how they rode, each one 
 
 On Bayard Mountalbon, 
 
 Men se him now and then 
 
 In the forest Arden j 
 
 What though I can frame 
 
 The storyes by name 
 
 Of Judas Machabeusj 
 
 And of Cesar Julius ; 
 
 And of the loue betwene 
 
 Paris and viene 5 
 
 And of the duke of Hannyball, 
 
 That made the Romaynes all 
 
 For drede and to quake ; 
 
 How Scipion did wake 
 
 The citie of Cartage, 
 
 Which by his vnmerciful rage 
 
 He beat down to the ground ; 
 
 And though I can expound 
 
 Of Hector of Troy, 
 
 That was al theyr ioye, 
 
 Whome Achilles slue, 
 
 Wherfore all Troy did rue ; 
 
70 pieces of ancient poetrp. 
 
 And of the loue so hote 
 That made Troylus to dote 
 Upon fayre Cresseyde, 
 And what they wrote and sayd, 
 And of their wanton wils, 
 Pandaer bare the byls 
 From one to the other, 
 His maisters loue to further ; 
 Somtime a precious thynge, 
 An ouche, or els a ryng, 
 From her to him agayn ; 
 Somtime a prety chain, 
 Or a bracelet of her heare, 
 Prayed Troylus for to weare 
 That token for her sake, 
 How hartely he did it take, 
 And much therof did make ; 
 And al that was in vayne 
 For shee did but fayne, 
 The story telleth playnej 
 He could not obtayne, 
 Though his father wer a king, 
 Yet there was a thynge, 
 That made the male to wryng ; 
 She made him to sing 
 The song of louers laye ; 
 Musing night and daye, 
 Mourninge al alone, 
 Comfort had he none, 
 For she was quite gone j 
 Thus in conclusion, 
 She broughte him in abusion, 
 In earnest, and in game, 
 She was much to blame, 
 
pieces of ancient poetry 71 
 
 Disparaged is her fame, 
 And blemished is her name, 
 In maner half with shame j 
 Troylus also hath lost 
 On her muche loue and cost, 
 And now must kisse the post; 
 Pandara that went betwene 
 Hath won nothyng I ween 
 But light for somer greene, 
 Yet for a speciall laud 
 He is named Troyllous baud, 
 Of that name he is sure 
 Whiles the world shal dure. 
 Though I remembre the fable 
 Of Penelope most stable, 
 To her husband most trew, 
 Yet long time she ne knew 
 
 Whether he were on liue or ded ; 
 
 Her wit stode her in sted, 
 
 That she was true and iuste 
 
 For anye bodelye luste 
 
 To Ulixes her make, 
 
 And neuer wold him forsake. 
 
 Of Marcus Marcellus 
 
 A prosses I could tel ys ; 
 
 And of Anteocus j 
 
 And of Josephus 
 
 De antiquitatibus ; 
 
 And of Mardocheus 5 
 
 And of great Assuerus, 
 
 And of Uesca his Queene, 
 
 Whome he forsoke with teene$ 
 
 And of Hester his other wife, 
 
 With whom he led a pleasaunt life; 
 l2 
 
fS pteces of ancient poetry 
 
 Of kynge Alexander; 
 
 And of kyng Euander; 
 
 And of Porcena the greate 
 
 That made the romains to smarte. 
 
 Though I haue enrold 
 
 A thousande newe and old 
 
 Of these historyous tales 
 
 To fil bougets and males, 
 
 With bookes that I haue red ; 
 
 Yet I am nothynge sped, 
 
 And can but lytle skyl 
 
 Of Ouid, or Vergil, 
 
 Or of Plutharke, 
 
 Or of Fraunces Petrarke, 
 
 Alcheus, or Sapho, 
 
 Or suche other Poetes moe 
 
 As Linus, and Homerus, 
 
 Enphorion, and Theocritus, 
 
 Anacreon, an Arion, 
 
 Sophocles, and Philemon, 
 
 Pindarus, and Dimonides, 
 
 Philiston, and Phorocides, 
 
 These Poetes of auncientie, 
 
 They are to diffuse for me. 
 
 Gowers englyshe is olde, 
 And of no value is tolde, 
 His matter is worth gold, 
 And worthy to be enrold. 
 In Chauser I am sped, 
 His tales I haue red, 
 His mater is delectable, 
 Solacious, and commendable j 
 His englishe wel alowed, 
 
pieces; of 9toctent poetry us 
 
 So as it is emprowed, 
 
 For as it is employed, 
 
 There is no englyshe voyd j 
 
 At those dayes muche commended; 
 
 And now men wolde haue ameded 
 
 His englishe, where at they barke 
 
 And marre all they warke ; 
 
 Chaucer, that famous Clarke, 
 
 His tearmes were not darcke, 
 
 But pleasaunt, easy, and playne, 
 
 No worde he wrote in vayne; 
 
 Also Jhon Lydgate 
 
 Wrytteth after an hyer rate, 
 
 It is diffuse to fynde 
 
 The sentence of his mind, 
 
 Yet wryteth he in his kind ; 
 
 No man that can amend 
 
 Those maters that he hath pend j 
 
 Yet some men finde a faut, 
 
 And say he wryteth to haut. 
 
 END OF THE THIRD SECTION. 
 
NOTES. 
 
 Page 1, line 2. SOON after this transcript was made, an account 
 of the manuscript was drawn up for insertion in the British Bibliographer, 
 and sent to the editor of that work. 
 
 11. Having no other knowledge of these very scarce 
 
 poetical miscellanies than through the medium of the Censura Literaria, 
 the British Bibliographer, and Hawkins' History of Music, it was thought 
 unnecessary to indicate what pieces in this volume had been printed 
 therein, as such a reference must have been incomplete. 
 
 3, — 21. This stanza is of difficult construction, and its 
 
 explanation is left to the reader. 
 
 4, — 1. This stanza is also printed exactly as it stands in 
 
 the original MS. but is obviously corrupt. 
 
 „ 4, — 24. The reading of this line is far preferable in the 
 
 Censura Literaria; but I have not chosen to deviate from my M S. 
 authority. 
 
 5, — 7. This is strikingly similar to the following couplet : 
 
 Blande puer ! lumen quod habes concede sorori ; 
 Sic tu coecus Amor, sic erit ilia Venus. 
 
 6, — 17- Watson was rather an earlier writer than Shak- 
 
 spearej and George Steevens characterizes him ff as a more elegant 
 sonneteer" than the Warwickshire bard. This praise has been questioned, 
 and I think with just criticism, in an article upon his 'Passionate Cen- 
 turie of Love,' in the British Bibliographer. He was, however, a poet of 
 considerable eminence in his day, and not quite undeserving of notice 
 now: the present little piece contains strong thoughts forcibly expressed. 
 It may be observed that at page 91 of The Phoenix Nest, 1593, a miscel- 
 lany to which Watson was a contributor, there are IS lines descriptive 
 of Jealousy. 
 
76 pieces of anctent IPoettp, 
 
 Page 7, line 1. These lines would seem to be the germ of a small 
 poem by Dr. Donne, who, although celebrated by his contemporaries, 
 has long been deservedly forgotten ; which Mr. Ellis has given as an 
 example of that metaphysical writer's productions, though it be like 
 shewing a single brick as a specimen of a house. 
 
 Should it be thought that too strong a censure is here conveyed upon 
 one whom Pope and Cowper have combined to praise, and whose works 
 have been admitted into Mr. Chalmers's Corpus Poetarum, still I shall not 
 wish to moderate it. I think that Pope was induced to modernise his 
 Satires, from motives which, although neither honourable to his can- 
 dour or his love of truth, were quite distinct from any belief in their 
 merit. Cowper, there can be no doubt, was influenced by his relation- 
 ship to the old Dean ; and Chalmers, probably, preserved such worthless 
 trash from deference to the authorities that had preceded him. Donne 
 never can be admired, nor ever obtain a second perusal from any mind 
 imbued with the slightest particle of taste, or fancy, or feeling. 
 
 Having written thus far, a friend to whom it has been shewn, thinks 
 that a censure is apparently conveyed upon a work which, above all 
 others, has largely contributed to form a correct and judicious sentiment 
 on the subject of our early poetry ; and it is with pleasure that I explain 
 what was certainly not meant in the sense which he says will be im- 
 puted to it. In stating that the pieces of Dr. Donne, selected by Mr. 
 Ellis for his work, would not give a correct idea of his general com- 
 position, I did not wish or intend to impute any blame to him, whose 
 object it clearly was (an object too that is effected with most praise- 
 worthy and fascinating judgment) to collect beautiful blossoms from 
 plantations over-run with weeds of a noxious and imperished existence. 
 What poetical reader is there that has not perused Mr. Ellis' volumes ? 
 and who that has not acknowleged with gratitude the taste and genius 
 of their compiler? 
 
 7, — 5. to taue a jigg.] I have no doubt, after seeing the 
 
 ensuing passage, of having mistaken the word in the manuscript : 
 As if wise Solomon should tune ajigge; 
 Or mighty Hercules goe whip a gigge. 
 
 PlantageneVs Tragicall Story, 1619, page 2(5. 
 
pitm of ancient poetry, 7? 
 
 Page 7, line 7. A Spanish figg.] This phrase has met with ample 
 illustration in the last variorum edition of Shakspeare, xii. 397, to 
 which the curious and inquisitive reader is referred. 
 
 10. 
 
 Cowards die many times before their deaths ; 
 
 The valiant never taste of death but once. Shakspeare. 
 
 9, — 23. In Tottell's Miscellany is a song, once very popular, 
 
 commencing x lothe that j did love 
 
 - 11, — 1. The horrible and disgusting detail of the crimes, 
 for the commission of which this wretched man perished by the hands^ 
 of the executioner, is registered in the State Trials. 
 
 12, — 20. Each Troylus hath his Cresed.] The mention of 
 
 these personages was very frequent in poetical works of the reign of 
 Queen Bess : seven instances occur in Proctor's Gorgious Gallery of 
 Gallant Inventions, and two in Robinson's Handefull of Pleasant Delites, 
 as well as several in The Paradise of Dayntie Devices, and Skeltorts Poems. 
 It was this frequency of allusion, perhaps, that induced Shakspeare to 
 write his drama on the subject. 
 
 21. Thy well ordred lockes are longe.] In reprobation 
 
 of this fashion it was that a writer of the name of Hall was loudly 
 energetic in a treatise called The Loathsomnesse of Long Haire, 1653 ; 
 we do not learn, however, that his pious endeavours were effectual. 
 The following curious dialogue, for the knowlege of which I am in- 
 debted to Mr. Gilchrist, is a parody upon an admired song of Carew's, 
 
 Ask me no more where Jove bestows, 
 and may appositely be submitted to the reader's attention. 
 
 Dialogue between Captaine Long-lutire and Alderman Short-haire. 
 
 C. L. Ask me no more why I do waire 
 
 My haire so far below myne eare : 
 
 For the first man that e'er was made 
 
 Did never know the Barber trade. 
 A. S. Aske me no more where all the day 
 
 The foolish owle doth make her stay ; 
 M 
 
78 ptece-s of ancient Jpoettp, 
 
 Tis in your locks, for, tak't from me, 
 She thinks your haire an Ivy tree. 
 C. L. Tell me no more that length of hairc 
 Can make the visage seem less fair : 
 For know, howe'er my hair cloth sit, 
 Im sure that yours comes short of it. 
 A. S. Tell me no more men wear long hair 
 To chase away the coldest ayre ; 
 For by experience we may see, 
 Long hair will but a backwind be. 
 C. L. Tell me no more that long hair can 
 Argue deboystness in a man ; 
 For 'tis religious, being inclined 
 To keep the Temples from the wind. 
 A. S. Tell me no more that Roarers waire 
 Their hair extent below their ear : 
 For having morgaged theyr land, 
 They'd faine obscure th' appearing band. 
 C. L. Ask me no more why hair may be 
 Th' expression of gentility ; 
 Tis that which, being largely grown, 
 
 Derives its pedigree from the Crown. Harl. MS. No. 0396. 
 Page 15, line 7. When many a tall ship rides, a sudaine blast 
 
 Strikes of the brauest topsaile from the mast.'] A 
 well-depicted allusion to the unforeseen approach of a storm at sea, 
 is to be met with in Plantagenets Tragicall Story, 1649, and extracted 
 in Bibliographical Memoranda, 4to. No. 2. 
 
 14. W. H.] Qu. Will. Habington, a new edition of 
 
 whose works has lately been published. 
 
 18, — 21. The blank is occasioned by a word which could 
 
 not be ascertained in the original MS. 
 
 19, — 11. I soe.~\ Is soe. 
 
 20, — 26. Licke to a pleasant dreame ichen one awakes, 
 
 The. pleasuers vanish w ch the fancy makes.'] A writer 
 in Proctor's Gorgious Gallery has, with far less elegance, written 
 The weary and long night 
 
 Doth make me dreame of thee ; 
 
i£U'ece$ of anctent potttp. 79 
 
 And still me thinks with sight 
 
 I see thee here with mee : 
 And then with open armes 
 
 I strayne my pillow softe, 
 And as I close mine armes, 
 
 Mee thinkes I kisse thee oft. 
 But when at last I wake, 
 
 And finde mee mockte with dreames ; 
 Alas ! with moane I make, 
 
 My teares run down like streames. 
 
 Page 21, line 7. To y e tune of' Whoope ! doe me noe harme, good man''] 
 The only other vestige remaining of this old song, is in Ford's Fancies, 
 Chaste and Noble, Act iii. sc. 3, where Secco sings ' Whoope! do me no 
 harm, good woman.' I suspect this last word is a misprint. 
 
 8. The editor hesitated for some time whether he 
 
 ought not rather to have rejected this ballad, than by insertion subject 
 himself to censure. Its curiosity, as an historical allusion to the cala- 
 mitous death of Sir Thomas Overbury, decided upon its preservation, and 
 not either the delicacy or decency of the language. It was scarcely pos- 
 sible indeed to descant on such a subject, more particularly in a satyrical 
 composition, without using expressions which the purity of modern 
 refinement would condemn. That the editor was not instigated by 
 choice to retain it, must be evident from his having omitted upwards of 
 a dozen pieces from the manuscript-volume, which omission indeed 
 has been before alluded to, on account of their impropriety. 
 
 It may be cursorily observed that the very gross allusions which I have 
 not ventured to enlarge upon in any notes, will meet ample elucidation., 
 by a perusal of the memoir-writers who form the Secret History of 
 James the First, lately published at Edinburgh in 2 vols. 8vo. a work 
 which may with confidence be recommended to the reader, as comprising 
 a very satisfactory commentary upon that wretched driveller's reign. 
 
 26. There was a good Earle.'] Robert Devereux, earl 
 
 of Essex 
 
 ■ 27. Had gott a young girle.~] Frances, countess of 
 
 m 2 
 
so jptecea of anctent poetrp, 
 
 Essex, whose abandoned profligacy of attachment for Carre, earl of 
 Somerset, led to the poisoning of Overbury. 
 
 Page 22, line 16. There was a younge Lord.~\ Robert Carre, earl of 
 Somerset. 
 
 22. He had a sweetefreind.~\ Sir Thomas Overbury. 
 
 24. Sweete S r Jervice.'] Sir Gervaise Elwes, Lieut. Gov. 
 
 of the Tower. 
 
 23, — 1. But this little Matron 
 
 Would needes have this Patron, 
 A Patron of Ignoramus.] This may probably refer 
 to the representation of Ruggle's humorous Comedy, at Cambridge; 
 and if so, would indicate Carre's having interested himself in its suc- 
 cess, upon the solicitation of his wife, evidently alluded to as "this little 
 Matron,' who was present, as we gather from a curious letter descrip- 
 tive of King James's visit to the University, and written by an eye-wit- 
 ness, one John Chamberlain, whose account, dated March 16, 1614, 
 is preserved in Miscellaneous State-Papers from 1501 to 1726, 4to. 
 Lond. 1778. 
 
 4. Now Weton & Heme 
 
 & Turner^] Weston and Mrs. Turner were pro- 
 minent actors in this bloody tragedy; but of Heme's name I have 
 discovered no other trace. 
 
 11. The grossness of the expression in this ballad 
 
 renders it liable to a similar objection with the last. The obscureness 
 of some passages, and the difficulty of ascertaining its allusions, were 
 also against preserving it; and, more in compliance with the opinions 
 of others than his own, the editor has suffered it to remain. 
 
 13. Along y e ditch by Grayest] Of this ditch by Gray's 
 
 Inn, I do not trace any notice, either in Stow's Survey or Pennant's 
 Account of London. 
 
 24, — 13. To Morefields se you come.'] Some curious notices 
 
 of these fields are contained in a note by Dr. Nott, to his late edition of 
 Decker's Gulls Horn-Book, page 48. See also Stow's Survey of London, 
 fol. 1633. 
 
jpteces of 9tactent pjtftp* 81 
 
 Page 24, line 20. I onely beare y e bell.] So in Sir Walter Raleigh's 
 Poems, 4to. 1814, page 10: 
 
 And methinks my true love bears the bell 
 
 For clearness, for clearness, 
 Beyond the Nymphs that be so bright. 
 
 Proctors Gorgeous Gallery of Gallant Inventions, edit. 1814, page 56 : 
 
 Her freend, that ment her well 
 
 Out of conceyt is quite ; 
 While other beares away xf bell, 
 
 By hitting of the white. 
 
 25, — 1. I am strongly inclined to conjecture that this 
 
 poem is an allegory designed by some disappointed courtier in the reign 
 of James the First, and not improbably by Sir Walter Raleigh, during 
 the incarceration which, notwithstanding his gallant services, was 
 imposed upon him by the wortliless successor of Elizabeth. If this 
 supposition should appear in any degree correct, it will not be lessened 
 by the internal evidence of the poem itself, which, whilst it contains 
 numerous allusions to Sir Walter's history, is not unworthy the talents of 
 that great and heroic ornament of his age. The difficulty of conveying 
 a concealed sense makes it somewhat obscure ; but the thoughts are 
 those of a strong mind and forceful expression, not at all inapplicable 
 to the character of him whom I am willing to believe the author. The 
 King of Bees may well be supposed to designate James, who was 
 usually termed, however unworthily, the British Solomon ; and the 
 application to the insect of wisdom is so strong, as to render the suppo- 
 sition very probable. The allusions to Tobacco, of which herb Raleigh 
 is generally considered as the discoverer, are remarkable ; and in the 
 last stanza, Fiue yeares twise tould, wth promises perfumed, 
 
 My hope-stufft head was cast into a slumber, 
 may be considered as applying to the date of his imprisonment, in like 
 manner as the succeeding line, 
 
 Sweete dreames of gould on dreames I then perfumed, 
 may refer to the expectations of a rich discovery across the Atlantic, by 
 
82 pteces of ancient poetry 
 
 the hopes of which he obtained, from the cupidity of James, his tem- 
 porary release from confinement. 
 
 The Caterpilowes of the tenth stanza, it is likely, are intended for 
 those who, in the preceding reign, having been his inferiors in rank 
 and station, had, under James, superseded him in both, and in the 
 good graces of the monarch. 
 
 It may be observed that the late edition of the poems of this ill-fated 
 cavalier is incomplete, inasmuch as it takes no notice of two commen- 
 datory pieces before Lithgow's Pilgrim's farewell, Edinburgh 1618, 
 signed Ignoto and W. R.; nor of a poem, which is certainly by him, pre- 
 fixed to Sir Arthur Gorges' translation of Lucan, 1614. The reason, 
 however, of this last being omitted, is perfectly well understood. 
 
 Page 25, line 1. sillie Bees.] This epithet is inaptly applied to 
 so industrious an insect ; but Owen Roydon, in Proctor's Gorgeous 
 Gallery, has ' the seelly bees,' which Mr. Park explicates, silly. 
 
 • 27. Whilst on y e Eglantine y e rest reposed] In the 
 
 Paradise of dayntie devises, the following line occurs, page 53 : 
 The Eglantine for pleasure oft is pricked upon the poste. 
 
 26, — 19. I caTiot feede on fenell.] This plant has a bad 
 
 character in two early poetical collections, viz. Robinson's Pleasant 
 delites : Fenel is for flatterers, an evil thing it is sure. 
 
 Paradise of dayntie devises : 
 
 The Fenell to, that is more fitt, for some unfrendly gest. 
 
 28, — 17- I bite the bate, fy swallow downe the hooke : 
 
 I rashly run, fy leape before I looked] A writer in 
 the Handefull of pleasant delites, by Clement Robinson, gives this caution • 
 Flie baites, shun hookcs ; 
 Be thou not snarde with lovely lookes. 
 
 First look, then leap. 
 In suretie so your skinnes you keepe. 
 
 30, — 13. " Rosa Lilium. ,, ~\ There is a pretty poem, the idea 
 
 of which is the inverse of this, in Crompton's Pierides, or the Muses 
 Mount, 1658. 
 
pteces of Snctent poetry 83 
 
 Page 33, line 3. Turne backe to Cocitus, # to those Ices deepe.~\ In 
 Skelton's Pithy, pleasaunt, and profitable workes, 1568, 8vo: 
 By the stygiall flode, And the stremes wode, 
 Of Cocytus botomlesse well. 
 
 35, — 26. A word wanting in the original MS. 
 
 37, Verses of a double sence.'] The way in which these 
 
 must be read, will be obvious from the marks which separate the con- 
 cealed sense. 
 
 24. S r Burdeaux Claret fy Seigneour Canary, .] In the 
 
 Loyal Garland, 1686, sig. f 1, is a humourous little piece, called 
 Canarys Coronation, in which the wines here mentioned, are similarly 
 personified. Who shall be King? how comes the thing 
 
 For the which we all are met ? 
 Claret is a Prince that hath long since 
 In the Royal Order set. 
 
 Let us never think of a noble drink, 
 
 But with notes advance on high : 
 Lets proclaim good Canarys name, 
 
 Heaven bless his Majesty. 
 
 Four pages further on, they are laughably applied to a description of 
 beauty : For her lips are two brimmers of Claret, 
 
 And her eyes are two cups of Canary. 
 
 We gather from the frequent and numberless allusions to these wines, 
 in the writings of our old poets, that they were the favourite drink of 
 our forefathers. Canary, under the denomination of Sack, was almost 
 universally drank in the time of Shakspeare, as his commentators have 
 satisfactorily ascertained. 
 
 38, — 20. A word, not decypherable in the original MS. 
 
 41, — 3. A Christmas Carol.~\ As far as the editor may be 
 
 permitted to judge of the composition of this curious old poem, he un- 
 derstands it to be Avritten in the character of Jesus Christ addressing a 
 repenting Sinner. The archaisms will be explained in the Glossary at 
 the close, of the volume. 
 
84 pieces of ancient poetry 
 
 Page 50, line 19. When Atropose doth shake his darte.] In Proctor's 
 Gorgeous Gallery of Gallant Inventions, page 54 : 
 
 I hate this lothsome life ; 
 O Atropos ! draw nie : 
 
 Upon which Mr. Park has this note : " Mr. Steevens thought that 
 Pistol might allude to this passage in the second part of Henry IV. 
 where he calls upon Atropos, in drawing his sword : but there are pas- 
 sages in several other poems to which he might as appositely be con- 
 jectured to allude, and one particularly in the Mirror for Magistrates 
 What may boote to stay the sisters three, 
 When Atropos perforce will cut the thread ? 
 The dolefull day was come &c. 
 
 Compl. of the Duke of Buckingliam." 
 With submission to Mr. Park, there is no such appositeness of allusion 
 in the passage which he has extracted. ' Pistol calls upon Atropos, in 
 drawing his sword,' and the writer in Proctor's Miscellany also calls 
 upon Atropos j and so far, as Mr. Steevens justly remarked, there is a 
 striking similarity ; but in the Mirrour, Atropos is not invoked ; and the 
 only resemblance to be discovered is, that the word Atropos is in Mr. 
 Park's quotation, and also in Pistol's exclamation. The several other 
 instances I suspect to be the following, none of which are at all parallel 
 to Shakspeare, as Mr. Park would intimate : 
 
 Wishing full ofte the Parcas had vntwinde 
 My vitall strings, or Atropose with knife. 
 
 Mirrour for Mag. ed. 1610, p. 325. 
 
 I see with knife where Atropos doth stand. lb. p. 15. 
 
 Whose name shall floorish still, though Atropos with spight, 
 In running from her develish den, bereave us of this light. 
 
 Proctor's Gorg. Gall. p. 105. 
 For this my breath, by fatall death, 
 Shal weave Atropos thread. 
 
 Robinson's Pleasant Deities, p. 44. 
 
 By the way, it may be observed upon a passage in Mr. Park's preface, 
 where he says, "Of Thomas Proctor I do not trace any biographical 
 
jpteces of ancient poetry 85 
 
 notice, nor do I recollect to have seen his name elsewhere," that Herbert 
 has registered ' e A worthy work, profitable to this whole kingdom. Con- 
 cerning the mending of all high wayes ; as also, for waters and iron works. 
 By Thomas Proctor esquier, and are to be sold at his house on Lam- 
 bard hill, near old Fish street," quarto, without date, printed by Edward 
 Allde. Mr. Park has omitted to notice that he wrote commendatory 
 verses before Anthony Munday's Mirror of Mutabilitie, 1597, and also 
 Newes from the North, 1579. Ritson thought that the initials T. P. 
 affixed to a work " Of the knowledge and conduct of warres," printed by 
 Tottell in the same year with the Gorgeous Gallery of Gallant Inventions, 
 referred to this Proctor j but that accurate antiquary must have been 
 mistaken in the other work he mentions, which ought rather to be 
 given to Paulfreyman. 
 
 Page 51, line 21. Johnny Cock.] This ballad is taken from a mo- 
 dern quarto manuscript purchased at Glasgow of Messrs. Smith & Son, 
 in the year 1810, and containing several others, but written so cor- 
 ruptly as to be of little or no authority ; appearing to be the text-book 
 of some illiterate drummer, from its comprising the music of several 
 regimental marches. It is only given in consequence of Ritson's men- 
 tion of it, and in the hope of contributing to the recovery of a more 
 ancient and correct copy. 
 
 52, — 1. H is coat it is of the light Lincum green.] Skelton 
 
 describes Elinour Rumming as having 
 
 Her huke of Lyncole grene. 
 Ritson has chastized the ignorance of some critic, who insisted that 
 the Scotch corruption Lyncum did not refer to the town of Lincoln, 
 which never was famous for its cloths as he asserted ; but was an obso- 
 lete synonime with bright. 
 
 < 59, — 16. To follow old Lilly, 
 
 Let his Ne assuescas 
 
 Be put in his Cap-case."] This must allude to Lilly 
 the astrologer, whose life and character is well known from the singular 
 memoirs, conjointly published, of himself and Ashmole. 
 
86 ptecea of ancient poetry 
 
 Page 62, line 1. Sir Samuel Egerton Brydges, in his Excerpta Tu- 
 doriana, has selected a translation of this celebrated ode of Anacreon by 
 Stanley, and one of older date ; but the four ensuing lines seem to me 
 preferably written to either of them, and indeed to any other version 
 which I have seen : 
 
 I led him to the fire, and then 
 
 I dry'd and chafed his hands with mine : 
 
 I gently pressed his tresses curies, 
 
 Which new fain rain had hung with Pearls. 
 
 4. great Charles's wain.~\ It is unquestionable, from 
 
 Ritson's note in the variorum Shakspeare, that this appellation is a cor- 
 ruption of churle or countryman's wain ; and therefore the epithet of 
 great is improperly prefixed. I suspect it to be foisted in by the com- 
 piler of the collection from which I have selected the poem, in order 
 that it might be attached to Charles the First, as the measure is quite 
 complete without it. 
 
 68, — 19. Of Gawen and syr Guy.] A Scotish metrical ro- 
 mance, singularly curious, printed in Pinkerton's Ancient Scotish Poems. 
 
 — — 20. And tel can a great peece 
 
 Of the golden fleeced] A Boke of the Hoole Lyf of 
 Jason, printed by Caxton, without date, and translated from the French 
 of Raoul Le Fevre. 
 
 .. 23. qfArturs round tabled] A Book of the Noble hys- 
 
 toryes of Kynge Arthur and of certeyn of his knyghtes. Caxton, 1485. 
 This romance is about to appear, in a new edition, edited by Mr. 
 Goldsmid. 
 
 . 25. dame Gaynour his Queue, 
 
 was somwhat wanton I icene.~] The character of 
 Guenever is elsewhere represented in the same manner. Holinshed says 
 < ' she was evil reported of, as noted of incontinence and breach of faith 
 to her husband.'' 
 
 ., 27. How syr Launcelote de Lake 
 
 Many a speare brake 
 
 For hys Ladyes sake.~] See Dunlop's History of 
 Fiction, i. 201. 
 
pitm of 9tactent poetry 87 
 
 Page 68, line 30. Of Tristrom, and kyng Marke.] Mr. Scott, in the 
 Introduction and Notes to -Sir Tristrem, by Thomas of Erceldoune, has 
 exhausted the literature of this romance. 
 
 69, — 1. Of bele I sold his wife. ~] One scarcely recognizes in 
 
 this uncouth appellation the fair Ysonde, the paramour of Sir Tristrem. 
 
 7. And of sir Libius, 
 
 Named Disconius.] This romance is preserved in 
 Ritson's valuable collection. 
 
 9. Ofquarter fylz Amunde.] The four sons of Aymon. 
 
 20. And of Cesar Julius.] Cf Les Croniques de Jule 
 
 Cesar. A very fine manuscript of the 15th century, of a Romance 
 founded upon the History of Julius Cesar, with miniatures and illumi- 
 nations, 2 vols, in the original binding, green velvet, &£l2 12s. It came 
 from the collection of Claude d) Urfe, and formerly belonged to the Royal 
 Library of France." Edwards' Catalogue for 1794, No. 1268. 
 
 22. Paris and viene.] Thy story of the noble and ryght 
 
 valyaunt and worthy knyght Parys and of the fayr Vyene. Caxton, 1485. 
 
 70, — 6. Pandaer bare the byls.'] I. Tomson, in Robinson's 
 
 Handefull of Pleasant Delites, alludes to Troilus receiving 
 
 — help of his friend Pawtfa/MS, 
 whose name has at length become proverbial in our language for one 
 who administers to unlawful passion. 
 
 71, — 14. Though I remembre the fable 
 
 of Penelope most stable.'] An anonymous poet in 
 Robinson's Miscellany, under the character of ' a constant lover,' declares 
 
 And for my part I vow 
 
 to serve for terme of life : 
 Which promise may compare with her, 
 
 which was Ulisses wife. 
 
 And in Proctor's Gorgeous Gallery of Gallant Inventions, page 105 . 
 
 Here wise Ulisses wyfe, whose chastnesse brued her fame, 
 Should matched bee. 
 
 These passages are adduced, as marking the fondness of allusion to 
 Penelope's storv. 
 
 n2 
 
88 ipteces of ancient poetry 
 
 Page 72, line 1. Of kynge Alexander, 
 
 And of kyng Euander, 
 
 And of Porcena the greate.'] Vide Weber's Col- 
 lection of Romances, vol. i. p. 1, and iii. p. 291. 
 25. Gowers englyshe is olde. 
 
 In Chauser I am sped. 
 
 Also Jhon Lydgate.] Skelton, in his Crowne of 
 Lawrell also, expresses his admiration of this poetical trinity : 
 
 And as I thus sadly amang them aduysed, 
 
 I saw Gower yt first garnished our eglishe rude ; 
 
 And maister Chaucer that nobly entreprised 
 
 How yt our englishe myght freshely be ennewed ; 
 
 The monke of Bury than after them ensued, 
 
 Dane John Lydgate : these englishe poetes thre 
 
 As I ymagened repayred vnto me. 
 
 Together in armes as bretherne enbrased, 
 
 Their apparell farre passing beyond y l I can tell ; 
 
 w l diamates, & rubies their taberdes were trased, 
 
 None so riche stones in Turkey to sell ; 
 
 They wanted nothynge but the Laurell ; 
 
 And of their bounte they made me goodly chere 
 
 In maner and forme as ye shall after here. 
 This 'maner and forme' consist of gratulatory notices of Skelton, by 
 each of the three, with his separate acknowlegements, and close by 
 their pointing him out 'to be protonotory of Fames courte.' 
 
pieces of amtent poetry 89 
 
 SUPPLEMENTARY NOTES, 
 
 Page 5. 
 
 An one ey'd boy borne of a halfe blinde mother, 
 Unmatched in beauty savinge each to other ; 
 Sende her thy eye, /aire boy, $ she shall prove 
 The queene of beauty, thou the God of Love. 
 
 This is paraphrased from an admirable little epigram, written on the 
 occasion of Lois de Maguiron, who was the handsomest man of his age, 
 and the favourite of Henry III. of France, having the misfortune to 
 lose his eye at the siege of Issoire ; and upon the Princess of Eboli, the 
 mistress to Philip II. of Spain, an eminently beautiful woman, but who 
 also was blind in one eye. 
 
 Lumine, Acron, dextro, capta est Leonilla sinistro 
 Et potes est forma vincere uterque Deos. 
 
 Blande puer ! lumen quod habes concede sorori 
 Sic tu C03cus Amor, sic erit ilia Venus. 
 
 Another version, but with inferior readings, is in a rare little miscel- 
 lany, Wits Recreations, selected from the finest Fancies of the Moderne 
 Muses, 1640. The information contained in this note is gathered from 
 an article in The Globe London Paper for August 31, 1814. 
 
90 
 
 IPteces of ancient porttp. 
 
 Page 41. 
 
 By an additional and rigorous scrutiny into the MS. of this Carol, 
 the following errors of transcription have been discovered. They will 
 readily be overlooked by those who are at all acquainted with the difficulty 
 of decyphering obscure and obsolete characters. 
 
 Stanza 1, line 2. t'sciall. The correctness of this is doubtful, al- 
 though the editor does not know with what 
 word to supply its place. 
 
 4. Gyty e , should be Syt]> e . See Glossary. 
 
 • faderse, read faderis. 
 
 2, — 2. feete, foote. 
 
 4. dret, drot. 
 
 3, — 4. broth 1 , broJ> r . 
 
 7. wepeful, were ful. 
 
 8, — 5. He, Ho. 
 
 9, — 2. fedde, fodde, which has the same 
 
 10, 
 
 meaning. 
 
 redly, 
 
 one, 
 
 nedly, i. e. from necessity, 
 ons, i. e. once. 
 
 END OF THE NOTES. 
 
(Utossarp. 
 
 A.BUSION, p. 70. f in abusion,' into abuse. 
 Alow, p. 53. ' braid alow,' broad [or plain] below. 
 Anoy, p. 46. annoyance. 
 Apon, p. 44. upon. 
 Appealeth, p. 9. appalleth. 
 A prosses, p. 71. 
 
 Attomies, p. 25. atoms: see note by Steevens, in Shakspeare, xx. 55^ 
 upon a line in Romeo and Juliet, 
 
 Drawn with a team of little atomies. 
 Bans, p. 51. collars. 
 Barke, p. 73. complain. 
 Boure, p. 44. chamber, habitation. 
 
 To big his boure in winter-tyde. 
 
 Laurence Minot's Poems, p. 35. 
 Bougets, p. 72. from the Fr. bougette ; budget or pouch, v. Cotgrave. 
 Bouseth, p. 39. swilleth : v. Cotgrave, art. boire. 
 Bows, p. 55. house. 
 Braid, p. 53. v. alow. 
 Bree, p. 52. eyebrow. 
 Breiks, p. 52. breeches. 
 Burse, p. 23. Fr. bourse, a purse. 
 Bush of scrogs, p. 52. bush of thorns : v. Jamieson. 
 
 By fore, p. 44. before. 
 
 Ne a hundreth zere biforn. Miuot, p. 12. 
 
 Byls, p. 70. billets, or letters. 
 
92 pieces of ancient pjetrp. 
 
 Condon, p. 23. knowing. 
 Conster, p. 11. construe. 
 Custan, p. 53. cast from him. 
 
 Daye, p. 43. die. 
 
 Dort ned, p. 44. Qu. through need, or necessity. 
 The lady rod dorth Cardevyle. 
 
 Drede, p. 44. £o oe dreaded, or doubted. 
 Dret, p. 42. Qu. dreit, endured. 
 Duell, p. 44. dwelling. 
 Dure, p. 71. to. 
 
 Emprowed, p. 73. profited of. 
 Erawde, p. 42. Herod. 
 
 Fleiste, p. 43. /ies*. 
 
 Gyty e , jo. 41. aw error in transcription for Sytb e , sMci. 
 
 Ham, p. 42. £/iew. 
 Hawe, p. 44. have. 
 Heare, p. 70. hair. 
 Ho, p. 43. w/io. 
 Hopes, p. 28. Ao/w. 
 Hystoryous, p. 72. historical. 
 
 I'sted, />. 43. ' I sted,' in place. 
 
 In wele & yn wo, p. 44. In icell-being and in sorrow. 
 
 Kisse the post, p. 71. 
 
 Lathes, />. 27. 
 
 Lyjtly, p. 43. Qu. quickly. 
 
 Early in the mornyng the justice vprose, 
 To the gates first gan he gon, 
 
 And commaundede to he shut full cloce 
 Li gh tile every chone. 
 
 Adam Bel, Clym of the Cloughe, and Wyllyam 
 of Cloudesle. R itson, p. 11. 
 
pieces of ancient poetry 93 
 
 Make, p. 71. husband, v. Chaucer. 
 Male, p. 70. Qu. messenger. 
 Males, p. 72. portmanteaus. 
 
 The kyng dude of his robe, furred with meneuere, 
 
 And dooth on a borel of a squyer, 
 
 And a lighth tabard, als Ifynde, 
 
 And trusseth a male hym bihytuie. 
 
 Kyng Alisaunder, in Weber's Met. Rom. i. 227. 
 Mastry, p. 43. force, power. 
 Mated, p. 25. confounded, dejected. 
 Meede, pp. 10, 42. reward. 
 
 Nagt, p. 44. not. 
 
 Ne knew, p. 71. did not know. 
 
 Nim, p. 31. to catch, from the Dutch, nimmen. 
 
 Nold, p. 42. would not. 
 
 Ocupie, p. 24. v. Shakspeare, var. edit, xii. 88. 
 
 On, p. 43. one. 
 
 On Hue, p. 71. alive. 
 
 Y thanke hyt god, for so y may, 
 
 TJiat euyr y skapyd on lyve away. 
 
 How a Merchande dyd hys Wyfe betray. Ritson. 
 
 Ouche, jo. 70. 'Anouche,' anouche, an ornament for the dress of a female. 
 
 He boght hur bedys, brochys and ryngys, 
 Nowchys of golde. 
 
 How a Merchande dyd hys Wyfe betray. 
 
 The passage in which this word occurs is wrongly punctuated, so that the 
 sense is altered. It should be read thus : 
 
 An ouche or els a ryng ; 
 
 From her to him agayn 
 
 Somtime a prety chain, 
 
 Or a bracelet of her heare, 
 Oure, p. 44. hour. 
 
 Payins, p. 42. 'into payins gete,' Qu. into the hands of Pagans. 
 Payne, p. 69. labour. 
 
94 pieces; of ancient poetry 
 
 Plase, p. 43. palace, so used by Spenser. 
 
 Plete, p. 42. ' reuful plete,' pitiful [plight or~\ condition. 
 
 Pore, p. 43. power. 
 
 Praices, p. 26. ( My apitite waights on my praices eyes/ Qu. wiy appe- 
 tite waits on my precious [i. e. over nice'] eyes, v. 
 Tyrwhitt's Glossary to Chaucer's Canterbury Tales, 
 in which occur two instances of precious, used in this sense. 
 
 Rep*ve, p. 43. reproof. 
 Rode, p. 42. cross. 
 
 All she thought was lost, by the rode. 
 
 The Frere and the Boye, ap. Ritson, p. 37. 
 Rounes, p. 50. runs. 
 
 Rowght, p. 54. reached, attained, v. Jamieson, artic. Roucht. 
 Ryef, p. 51. plentiful. 
 Rythwyseness, p. 44. righteousness. 
 
 If he be rightwis king, thai sail 
 Maintene him both night and day. Minot, p. 30. 
 Sawe, p. 43. save. 
 Scathe, p. 68. harm. 
 Scho, p. 44. she. 
 Seche, p. 42. beseech. 
 Sith, p. 39. since. 
 Spede, p. 44. go on. 
 Spullers, p. 26. spoilers. 
 Strinkled, p. 52. sprinkled, v. Jamieson. 
 Sunkelike, p. 18. Sun-like. 
 Syllyng, p. 42. selling. 
 
 Tene, p. 43. grief, sorrow, affliction. 
 
 Teene, p. 71. v. Tene. 
 
 Thogff, p. 44. though. 
 
 Trest, p. 44. trust. 
 
 In John of France es all his trest. Minor, p. 32. 
 
 Trone, p. 42. throne. 
 
 Trew king, that sittes in trone. Mmot, p. 1. 
 
pieces of ancient pjetrp, 95 
 
 T'sciall, p. 41. 
 
 To haut, p. 73. too high. 
 
 Tow, p. 13. two. 
 
 Tyed, p. 14. Qu. time [to rest], as in Minot, p. 2. 
 
 A pere of prise es more sum tyde 
 Than al the boste of Normondye. 
 Vilde, p. 3. vile. 
 
 Wake, p. 69. awaken. 
 
 Wan, p. 52. dark-coloured, v. Jamieson. 
 
 Warden, p. 35. 
 
 Ware, p. 24. purchase. 
 
 Have here thy peny, y haue my ware. 
 
 How a Merchande dyd hys Wyfe betray, p. 72. 
 
 Warke, pp. 68, 73. work. 
 
 Wedsons, p. 54. ' proudest wed sons,' Qu. proudest appareled. 
 
 The erle of Norhamton helpid at that nede, 
 
 Als wise man ofwordes, and worthli in wede. Minot, p. 19. 
 
 Wende, p. 40. go. 
 
 Wene, p. 68. think, suppose. 
 
 Wode, p. 42. mad. 
 
 They wende he had ben wode. 
 
 The Frere and the Boye. 
 
 Wolle euylla payde, p. 43. r. wolle euyll apayde, will be badly satisfied. 
 Wonds, p. 42. wounds. 
 Worne, p. 44. 
 
 Wote well, p. 44. knew well. 
 Wotefull well, p. 44. knew full well. 
 
 Wrorppyd, p. 42. Qu. wrapped, explained by Weber, Glossary to Met. 
 Rom. smote. 
 
 END OF THE GLOSSARY. 
 
DISPOSITION OP THE COPIES. 
 
 BLUE PAPER. 
 
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 4. JAMES MIDGLEY, Jun. Esq. Rochdale. 
 
 5. Sir MARK MASTERMAN SYKES, Bart. M. P. F. S. A. Sledmere. 
 
 6. ARTHUR HALL, Esq. 
 
 No. 1. JOSEPH HASLEWOOD, Esq. London. 
 
 2. Mr. J. SHEEPSHANKS, Leeds. 
 
 3. F. T. BILLHAM, Esq. . 
 
 4. 6. Messrs. ROBINSONS, , Three Copies. 
 
 7. Sir MARK MASTERMAN SYKES, Bart. M. P. F. S. A. Sledmere. 
 
 8. Mr. PRITCHARD, Derby. 
 
 9. 11. Mr. MERCIER, Dublin, Three Copies. 
 
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 20. JOHN BROADLEY, Esq. Hull. 
 
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98 pteces of ancient poettp* 
 
 No.22. JOHN HARTWELL, Esq. 
 
 23. THOMAS NEVE, Esq. 
 
 24. D. HANKSHAW, Esq. 
 
 25. A. WILLMOTT, Esq. 
 
 26. CHARLES LEE, Esq. Bristol. 
 
 27. 32. Mr. ARTHUR BIGGS, , Six Copies. 
 
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 64. Mr. JOSEPH RIDOUT, Bristol. 
 
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 chester. 
 
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IPteces of ancient poetry 99 
 
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