Albino says, 'What frenzy damps thy reason?

Arise, my haste commands a frequent rap.'

'Begone,' quoth he, 'entreats are out of season. 3080

Worshipful Hob, I'll have another nap.

'Tis not mine hour to rise until I hear

The clapper sound a _surge_ in mine ear.'

When our young monk had many minutes spent,

And could not Foppo from his pillow rear,

About that time light's charioteer had sent

Day's trusty harbinger his orb to clear.

He searched the walls, and trafficked with the lock;

But all in vain, he must implore the frock.

The chapel-clerk, as constant to his hour 3090

As is day's herald which at breaking crows,

Seeing Aurora did his windows scour

And leapt into his chamber, straight arose:

Making the shrill-toned bell in echoes speak,

'Awake and rise to prayer, the day does break.'

Foppo was at that time in Morpheus' court,

Where he with apparitions was affrighted;

The scene was changed, then came a dainty sport,

Whose sudden neatness every sense delighted;

Then dreamt Albine, their renegado monk 3100

Was knocking at his lodge, the other _Nunc_.

Then dreamt he saw a table richly spread

With all the dainties riot ever felt;

All birds of warrant which in woods are bred,

With salmon, mullet, turbot, trout, and smelt:

The princely-pacing deer, entombed in paste,

Embalmed with spices to delight the taste.

A sparkling wine, drawn newly from the cheek

Of some chaste fair which blushes coloured red,

With brisk canary and enlivening Greek, 3110

Poetic sherry which can sharpen lead--

This ravish'd Foppo with a taste content,

Till to his ear the bell an errand sent.

When, starting up, he deemed the bell did call

His able stomach to a founder's feast,

And with all speed was swogging to the hall,

But that Albino stayed him by the crest,

And lew-warm claret from his hogshead drew

To make his stomach give the deer adieu.

Quoth he, 'Thou son of Somnus, drowsy slave! 3120

Why didst thou not at my loud summons rise?

But in a fit of lunacy did rave

As though thy wit had ta'en some new disguise?

I'll be your Hob, your hag: and, though I'm loath,

Will now chastise thee for thy feignèd sloth.'

But whilst his passion took a breathing space,

The wak'ned porter from his fists did creep,

Fixèd his goggles on his youthful face,

And then rememb'red his prophetic sleep.

Tells him he's not Conrado; for he knows 3130

That brow, those cheeks, lips, eyes, Albino owes.

'And though your wrath should grind me unto powder,

Without a warrant, I will ope no gate.'

This answer made Albino's anger louder,

And vowed a passage, bought at any rate.

So leapt upon the slave with nimble strength,

And measured on the earth his ugly length.

Albino hastes to th' postern; having got

The keys, but 'mongst so many much was puzzled

To find the right; Foppo meanwhile did trot 3140

Unto some chambers where the shavelings nuzzled,

And them with outcries raisèd to surprise

Albino, larvèd in Conrado's guise.

Like penancers with linen on their backs,

The baldpates ran to seize upon their prey;

But yet their haste a semi-moment lacks:

Albino through the gate had found a way.

And, snatching out the keys, did them encage,

Raising a bulwark to withstand their rage.

Then thanked his stars that thus delivered him 3150

From dangers which did threaten naught but death.

For he by th' verge of _Mare mort_ did swim,

And did expect his latest gale to breath.

Nay, these late troubles had him so dishearted

That every shadow 'lmost the union parted.

You, whose disasters some proportion hold,

Help my weak fancy to express his fears;

Teach me my rhymes in cypress to enfold,

From thwarted lovers borrow me some tears;

Fetch me some groans from the ascending thief; 3160

And from the Inquisition fetch me grief.

Without demurs, Albino left the wicket,

Fearing the monks should bribe the faithless lock,

And steered his course unto a well-grown thicket,

Whose lofty hill was armed with many a rock.

He envies sculls that wait on spit and oven,

And vows ne'er more to see that hated coven.

Have you beheld the stately-pacing stag,

Flying the echoes of some deep-mouthed hounds?

How first his brow does wear a ferny flag, 3170

And with curvettings beats the quaking ground;

Telling the fawns and wood-nymphs that he scorns

The hounds, horse, huntsmen, and their warbling horns.

But when he is embossed in blood and sweat,

When travail on his swiftness fetters hangs,

He then is frighted with the shrill recheat,

And fears a pinking with the yellers' fangs.

Seeks ev'rywhere for shelter, and dares rush

Malèd with fear, into the sharpest bush.

So fared it with Albino: whilst he had 3180

Fate at a beck, commanded Fortune's wheel,

Was callèd by his Donnes, active lad,

He thought his joys were wallèd in with steel,

Slighted misfortune, envy set at naught,

And, braving malice, dared in every thought.

But when his tow'ring heart was taught to know

Humiliation, and self-confidence

Was strucken dead with famine, flame, and snow;

Although his genial stars had freed him thence,

He fears the monkish rabble, and he shrouds 3190

Himself in caves, encurtained round with clouds.

In his dark house he heard a feeble voice,

Breathed from the corals of some weak'ned maid.

At first concealment was his better choice,

Till pity set an edge upon his blade.

Then guided by the cry, he saw a roister

Did in his arms perforce a nymph encloister.

Yet, seeing home-spun russet, stopped his pace;

Saying, 'By this what honour shall I gain?'

But in his eye so curious was her face, 3200

Though masked and blubbered o'er with brackish rain,

That he forthwith unsheathed his trusty Turk,

Called forth that blood which in his veins did lurk.

So, stepping forward, cries, 'Injurious slave,

Unto what baseness does thy folly tempt her?'

Who answered him, 'Fond fool, thy foolish brave

From my decreèd end shall not exempt her.

Befriend me, Queen of Cyprus! and in spite

Of force or fortune, I'll have my delight.'

'Desist,' Albino says, 'or else I vow, 3210

By all those tapers which enrich the night,

I'll make pale death strew cypress on thy brow.

And to th' infernal shades thy soul will fright.

Cease from thy brutish rape, or else prepare

Thy cursed lungs to draw the Stygian air.'

Quoth the rude Sylvan, 'I am past that age

Which with bugbears the foppish nurse does fright.

Hence, curtain-squire, smock-groom, and urine-page!

I'll have no testates unto my delight.

Pack hence with speed, or by Actaeon's head, 3220

My weighty falchion shall pronounce thee dead.'

'Well,' says Albino, 'since thou'lt not desist,

Prove the adventures of a bloody duel.

One of our threads fell Atrop's shall untwist,

For to my rage kind pity lendeth fuel.

To free a virgin from thy gripping paws

I judge well pleasing unto nature's laws.'

They clasp'd their helms, and buckled to their fight,

'Twixt whom no umpire was but meagre death.

The woodwards green with Tyrian dye was dight 3230

Who now desires a minute's space to breath.

Albino gave the truce, yet but to breath;

His valour scorned to crowd into the sheath.

Then did his nimble sleight and courage show,

Feigning a stroke, but pointed at his breast,

Which oped a door whereat his spirits flew,

And wellnigh set his fainting soul at rest.

With that th' enfeebled Sylvan weakly cries

'Hold, hold thy hand! or else Sylvanus dies.'

'Dost call for mercy,' says Albino, 'now? 3240

And all thy thoughts erstwhile triumphant rid?

I seek not murder, may I save my vow.

That I should joy in blood my stars forbid.

I am content the virgin's voice shall seal

Thy death, or pardon, if thou make appeal.'

'Fair virgin,' quoth Sylvanus, 'pity is

The only grace that gives a virgin price.

Remission crowns a heart with greater bliss,

Than to hang iron on weak nature's vice.

The rays of your bright beauty urged desire; 3250

Your feature kindled lust, love blowed the fire.'

The virgin answered, 'I did never suck

The tiger's dugs, the lioness, and bear,

Nor from a reeking breast an heart did pluck.

Never will I in blood with vulture's share.

But, since submission speaks from voice and knee,

Kind pity thins the fault, and pardons thee.'

Then to Albino says, 'Heroic youth,

May all the blessings which attend on man

Felicitate thy life; and to buy truth 3260

To words, I dare do more than virgins can.

But, above all, I wish may nature's pride,

Lilies and roses, intertwine thy bride.

But yet alas! to recompense by airs

So large a bounty and so free is poor.

Yet why may not a spotless virgin's prayers,

Wing'd with desire, unclasp high heaven's door?

Accept of this, and if the Fates befriend me,

These blessings which I wished for shall attend thee.'

'Nature's sole wonder, beauty's only gem,' 3270

Quoth he, 'my valour and my feeble arms

(If your perfections had not strenght'ned them)

Could not have freed you from intended harms.

Ascribe the honour to your matchless face.

My courage merits not the meanest place.

Yet had I swum through seas of steaming blood,

And passed through nitre flames that belch forth lead,

Had all the Furies armed with vipers stood,

T' have stopped my passage or pronounced me dead--

I would have thrown the die my fortune tried, 3280

T' have bought you freedom though in crimson dyed.

For, when mine eyes sent forth the farthest glance,

To fetch th' idea of your beauty in,

That very sight my senses did entrance,

And make my thoughts excuse Sylvanus' sin.

For sure your quick'ning rays can melt a snow

On which the winds of age and sorrow blow.

But why do I upon the Ela raise

Thy noble worth, and yet intend to woo?

Since beauty oft displays her plumes at praise, 3290

Then by this doing I myself undo.

But where I virtues find, refined as gold,

Despair shall never make affections cold.

Be pleasèd then to think the god of Love

With gilded arrow has transfixed my heart,

And let my purple breast your pity move.

With balsam of regard allay my smart,

Send thy quick eyes into my breast to see,

What tortures prick my heart to purchase thee.'

'Sir, I am grieved,' quoth she, 'you are allied 3300

To him whose quiver crowns a lover's wish.

Else at a twelve-score distance might y' have spied

You cast your net to mesh a simple fish.

Your worth and feature does entitle you

To Cytherea with her silver hue.

When I, alas! am but an homely maid,

Born to a spindle and to serve a plough.

To milk my spongy-teated cows I strayed,

Which here amongst these tender hazels low.

My starvèd fortunes cannot think of love, 3310

Nor does my envy wound the billing dove.'

This answer silencèd Albino's hopes,

Which spake as loud as though they kissed the sheets;

He in his thoughts commends the quiet copes

Which taste no sour in hunting after sweets.

'Alcides' life,' quoth he, 'compared to mine,

Is trouble-free, spiced with contents divine.

Fair maid, what hatred frosteth your desires?

What steams of envy choke bright Venus' lamp?

Give some kind fuel to maintain my fires, 3320

A frown of yours will all my vitals damp.

Oil o'er my writhled heart, or let me know

From what black heads these bitter cadents flow.'

'Your favours, sir, have such commanding power,

That 'tis unjust your wishes to deny,

Accursed with all black tempests be that hour

In which my heart gave credit to mine eye.

Else would I not have been so much averse

T' a mind so noble and a feature terse.

But now alas! myself myself am not, 3330

For heartless I my heart have giv'n away:

An abbey-brother has that treasure got,

Albino hight--he's Phoebus of my day.

Your habit speaks you a monk, sir, if you can

Tell me where I may find that (ah me) man.

Be pleased,' quoth she, 'to tell me where I may,

Or go myself, or else a servant send.'

'Fair maid,' quoth he, 'it is a gloomy way

Leads to the bed of your benighted friend.

His ashes are in Darwey Abbey laid, 3340

But his faint ghost walks i' th' Elysian shade.'

'But is he dead?' says she, and loudly shrieked,

Which waked Narcissus' hate to second her,

Her rosies dewed with melting crystal reeked,

And sorrow did her trembling heart inter.

Symptoms of sad deplorings ne'er were known,

Which were not in her sharp lamentings shown.

'Choice maid,' quoth he, 'do not destroy your rosies,

And blast your beauty with such scalding sighs.

In nature's garden there are choicer posies, 3350

More comely features, and more agile thighs.

What though Albino's dead? another may

Be trulier termed the Phoebus of your day.'

'Oh, do not stain,' says she, 'his spotless name!

Within his bosom every virtue ranged.

Equals to him dull nature cannot frame,

Though she should labour till herself be changed:

It is a shame to ask more favours yet:

Grant me this one, because my sun is set.

My pity saved, when as your fury had 3360

The rough-pawed Sylvan mincèd with your skene.

Oh, with same courage let your mind be clad,

With your sharp scimitar my liver dreane.

Why should I be a liver, since he's dead

Who was my hope, my health, my heart, my head'.

'How am I chang'd!' quoth he, 'my heart does beat

The fainting summons of the Child of Sin.

My knees do quarrel, and a chilling sweat

Cold as the dew of winter oils my skin.

Fear snatcheth from my roseate banks their blood, 3370

And drowns my liver in a sanguine flood.

'Tis strange a naked breast of bleachèd snow,

And crystal mounts enriched with coral heads,

(On which the purple violets do grow)

Should dare mine arm, and strike my courage dead.

My steel a breast of iron has unhinged.

And knees of brass have to my fury cringed.

Had some vast Gog or he whom Tellus brought--

One got by Fury or Gradivus' mate--

Who, but with monsters, ne'er conversed with ought, 3380

Dared with a look, mine arm had weak'ned Fate.

But, at this feeble voice my blood does start,

And into pity melts my swelling heart.

Then name no more those words: for they at once

Do both unedge my valour and my steel.

Too safely do your virtues keep the sconce.

My steadiest thoughts, struck with these letters, reel.

My sacrilegious hand shall never stain

Virtue's sole temple, and the grace's fane.

Dry up those furrowing cadents. Will you give 3390

Your lovely self in marriage unto him,

If I shall say Albino yours does live,

And in your view his comely portrait limn?

Say, aye, to this: and I will try my skill,

To make him pace along yon craggy hill.'

''Tis the countenance which my wishes crave,

Naught half so sweet,' says she, 'as Hymen's tedes.'

Albino then the haired earth did shave,

And hedged two circles in with ropes of beads;

Then, quart'ring them, did take the virgin's hand, 3400

And bade her with unshaken courage stand.

'Thou must not be surpris'd with shivering fear,

Though Cerberus, the janitor of Hell,

Though seven-headed Hydra, panther, bear,

The lion, tiger, or the dragon yell;

Although a monster spits forth flashing powder,

Though clouds and winds strive which should bellow louder.'

This said, with cruse of holy water he

Besprinkled o'er himself, besprinkled her,

And zealously did cross: the same did she, 3410

Like a devout Romezzo conjurer.

This done: 'Fair maid,' quoth he, 'if Fates befriend me,

The servant of your beauty shall attend thee.'

Then 'gan [he] to invoke, or seem t' invoke,

With uncouth language the infernal crew--

'Vitz, Allafoun, Trallasht with elfish poke,

Trollox and Chimchish, with your grisly hue,

Gnarzell and Phrizoll which in Styx do wade,

_Lê portè_ Albino from the Stygian shade.'

When from his lips these words had ta'en their flight, 3420

A shuffling whirl-puff roared amongst the trees,

Th' affrighted leaves took flight, the grass looked white,

The quaking poplars fell upon their knees.

Jove's sacred tree stood cringing unto it,

And bowed his head, else 'twas in sunder split.

Then, from a breaking cloud, a sheet of fire

Encircled them, and dashed against an oak,

Ush'ring a thunder, whose untamed ire

Like dreadful tyrants naught but terror spoke.

And as unwilling to depart from them 3430

His ireful cracks the trembling grove did hem.

These, suddenly succeeding so the first,

And at that instant when he feigned a spell,

Did make Albino judge himself accursed,

Thinking his voice unhinged the gates of hell.

Bellama's rosies wore as white as snow,

As though the Phyma did upon them blow.

And justly, for though these but common were,

Yet at that time when faintness kept the wicket,

Which at each shadow oped the gate to fear, 3440

In that dark place, that unfrequented thicket--

I blame not though her courage had been colder,

And in art magic wish Albino bolder.

But when the storm was passed, his courage got

The conquest of his fear, made his quick eyes

Stand sentinel t' advantage more his plot:

And, looking from the mountain, he espies

A man descending, as he told the maid,

Which the loud tempest of his fears allayed.

Then says, 'Behold the object of your hope'. 3450

Away springs she from off that gloomy place,

Posts to the hill, forsakes her magic cope.

Meanwhile Albino doffs Conrado's face,

And set upon his looks Albino's dye;

So, imped with love, unto the mount did fly.

Where he espied Bellama rove about

Crying, 'Albino, dost thou fly from me?'

The man was but a silly shepherd lout

That climbed the hill his fleecy train to see.

And when his eyes had healthed his wealthy flocks, 3460

Trudged to his cote, walled in with sturdy rocks.

Albin', encount'ring her, says, 'Lovely maid,

Was 't your small voice that did Albino call?'

''Twas I, poor I', the fainting virgin said,

'Why was I forced from Rhadamanthus' hall?'

'Who was 't, quoth he, 'that, with commanding air,

Snatch'd me forth' arms of Proserpina fair?'

'It was a courteous monk,' quoth she, 'whom I

Humbly entreated to deliver thee.'

'Alas! sweet maid,' quoth he, 'Fates do deny 3470

Freedom from thence, nor can I pay the fee.

'Fee!' says she, 'fear not: if an earldom can

Purchase thy freedom, I will give it, man.'

'Thou canst not ransom one from Pluto's jail,

Shouldst thou lay down the gaudy triple crown;

With steely-hearted Fate naught can prevail,

On whose harsh brow there ever dwells a frown.

Speak fair, thy business: for I must begone,

Grim Charon waits for me at Acheron.'

'Ah me,' quoth she, 'and is it truth I hear? 3480

Then, dear Albino, I will wait on thee.'

'You're like to find', quoth he, 'but homely cheer,

If in my diet you partake with me.'

'Famine's a favour unto me,' says she,

'Bridewell a bride-house, if I live with thee.

But, prithee, what is Rhadamanthus fell,

And she whom thou didst Proserpina call?'

'Sweetest,' quoth he, 'he is the judge of hell,

That dooms us tortures, or does us enthral.

For, if our innocence do plead for us, 3490

We're led t' Elysium from dark Erebus.

That other was the Thracian harper-mate,

Whom Pluto forced unto his gloomy house,

His devilship with smiles to recreate,

Full bowls of his nepenthe to carouse.'

'I'm glad I know', quoth she, 'for jealous fears

Unto my heart did travel from my ears.'

'Why, lovely maid, did ever I behold

Before this time', quoth he, 'your comely face?'

'How! dear Albino, must you now be told 3500

Who your Bellama is? 'tis high disgrace.

Sure you of Lethe's streams have deeply drank,

Which doth the powers of your mind disrank.'

'Ha!' quoth Albino, 'can my dullness think

That homely russets my Bellama veil?

I deeply of oblivion sure did drink,

Did I not know her from a milking pail.

Peace, pretty fair, do not my saints profane,

Her beauty has not such coarse lodging ta'en.'

'Well,' quoth Bellama, 'will you me discard, 3510

When for your sake I've run through all disasters?

Must slights and _nescios_ now be my reward?

Will you make ulcers, and apply no plasters?

Clothed in this coarse array, I roved abroad

To find the place of thy secure abode.'

'Sweet,' says Albino, 'let not anger dress

Thy stainless lilies in distraction's dye.

Let ignorance plead pardon, for I guess

Some other beauties may "Albino" cry.

Might now a ghost permitted be to kiss, 3520

My lips should suck from thine a cherry-bliss.'

'Why,' says Bellama, 'has a ghost no lips?

Is there no pleasure dwells in spirits' veins?

This "might a ghost" does all my joys eclipse,

For now I have my labour for my pains.

Pray, what was Merlin's father? is 't not said

Spirits have power a damsel to unmaid?'

These words, proceeding from Bellama's lips,

Did make Albino myrrhine juice carouse,

To raise an active heat, which nimbly skips 3530

In every vein like fays in Ob'ron's house.

But when he was no ghost, and hoped to merit

Love for love, he found her of another spirit.

'Away, fond monk!' quoth she, 'dost think that I

Into a sea of grief will wade with thee?

And drown my fortunes? make an earldom die?

Dost think humility resides with me?

Canst think I'll choose a pebble, slight a pearl,

Marry a threadbare cowl and scorn an earl?

What door to thy presumption did I ope? 3540

What symptoms of affections did I show?

What actions gainful birth unto thy hope?

Or from what vow did thy assurance grow?

Cease then, for I take it in high disdain,

To thy coarse worth my smallest ray to chain.'

'Disdain?' quoth young Albino. 'Can this be

The voice of my Bellame? Is there such odds?

If not in birth, in worth I equal thee,

Although my muse shot love into the gods.

Disdain's a pitch too high for maids to reach, 3550

Scarce will the queen of pride such doctrine teach.

Presumption too? does he deserve that brand,

Who dallies with consent, invited to 't?

What firmer seal than language, lip, and hand?

What better warrant than desired to do 't?

Say, he is saucy that, with crusted fists,

Paws a court-silk, and melts her balmy wrists.

Who feeted that enigma, whose kind air

Spake me the only high in thy esteem?

Was I not bosomed more than parents, fair? 3560

Did not thine own voice that saint-secret seem?

Who bribed your full face-gazings? and what she

Judged none praise, lip, deserving of but me?

Did not you in mysterious postures woo me?

And 'gainst Bardino levied all your spite?

Nay, by Barraba sent invitements to me?

And dubbed me by your knot the Red-rose Knight?

Did not your wish glue feathers on your feet

To thread a casement when I paced the street?

And after these, ah! thousand more, and nearer 3570

Seals of thy love, must slights unseal your lips?

A puny mistress-hunter well may fear her,

When pride at high noon can my sun eclipse.

Fury! lend me thy poison, Rage! thy breath,

That I, by pride doomed, may doom beauty death.

You pale-faced shadows of the gloomy isles,

Fill up my gall, and lend me all your pow'rs,

To torture women who, enriched with wiles,

From their moist eyes send forth dissembling show'rs.

Would Jove the mount had barren been of stones 3580

Whereof old Pyrrha fram'd the female bones!

Would Sea's daughter, that same queen of faces,

Her alabaster box would deign to me,

Once Phao's ferry pay that gave such graces,

Which till that time the sun did never see.

That I not only might, as others are,

Be counted comely, but o' th' fairest fair.

Then would I sleight those formal tricks of love,

Those sighs, tears, vows, complaints, and folded arms;

Caps, cringes, oaths, and compliments to move 3590

Th' affections of a girl expecting charms.

For wealth, wit, wisdom, eloquence, and greatness

Are less inducements unto love than neatness.'

'How now? Albino, is your doublet grown

Too straight', says she, 'that you do puff and swell?

Peace! peace! let not your choler thus be shown.'

'A thing impossible', says he, 'you tell.

In vain we call for peace, and calmness praise,

When love and hate intestine wars do raise.

Women have double pupils, so they can 3600

Kill like the basilisk but with a glance.

Their very praise does blast and wither man,

Like frost and winter, or his soul entrance.

They're all like Glaucus' wife, whose filthy charms

Won poor Ulysses to her lustful arms.

They're Holgoy, Africans, and fiends they are--

Words know not what they are, they're hell to me--,

Would Jove I had the Heliostrophio fair,

To touch all maids, or, if not all, yet thee:

Or had been born under the Scorpion's head, 3610

With amulets t' have struck thy beauty dead.

Ah! faithless Polupists, that thus can change

Into an hundred thousand shapes your minds!

Phoebe to you is constant; tides do range,

Yet back return; more settled are the winds--

Mere Pompholyx which with each breath does stray.

Your loves catch feathers too, and fly away.

Sometimes a fit of sullens seals your jaws,

In contemplation big (of Jove knows what),

And then again, as if your tongues made laws, 3620

You weary time with your eternal chat.

Ah Mantuan! [Mantuan!] thy pen is not a liar,

Although thy habit says thou wert a friar.

Erstwhile a sober nun Bellama was,

Then a Lucretia, at another gale

I know not what, a straggling country lass,

A quinque-lettered, 'haps, which set to sale,

Now, none more willing unto love than she,

And now more further off from love or me.

Yet call that hasty language back a while. 3630

Bellama is not such, she's Cupid's dart;

Teach me, great Jove, to make Bellama smile,

And with one ray sun her Albino's heart.

Thou purblind boy! teach me to gain Bellama:'

Straight Echo's voice returned him answer, '_Ama._'

'Thanks, gentle Echo, might thy voice divine

Speak truth in this, that love commandeth love.

I would through every mood and tense decline

_Amo_, and saint thee too, my joy, my dove!

Nay, thou shouldst be whate'er fond babblers prate, 3640

Albino's goddess, though Narcissus' hate.

Oh! would to Jove I were in courteous France,

Or else that happy place in France with me,

That with more tongues thou mightst make _ama_ dance

Within these silent woods from tree to tree.

Or would thou hadst imperial power from Jove,

In the imperious mood to bid her love.'

Quoth she, 'Unworthy of a conquest's he

That for a cannon's roar his ensigns veils:

Unworthy of a rose or rosy glee 3650

Is he, whose courage at her javelins fails:

They're feeble amorists that for a "fie!"

Run from their colours, and in silence lie.

'Tis our prerogative to have entreat

With every phrase that flatt'ry does enhance,

To win our loves, though every stroke they beat,

Our hearts beat Cupid's march, tune Venus' dance.

In their desires they never yet did perish

Which feed our humours, and our passions cherish.

To prove the truth of thy affections, I 3660

Shot forth that language, headed with disdain.

My heart is thine which, till death close mine eye

With steely thumb, thy bosom shall retain.

Caesar's proud nod shall not command that bliss

Whose sweets are promised by this melting kiss.'

'Ha!' quoth Albino, 'dare I trust mine ears

With this blest air? And am I sure I wake?

Or is 't a dream which wakeneth into tears?

'Tis truth: then crawl hence, Furies, toad, and snake!

The earth her mines, sea vomit shall their pearl, 3670

Ere I leave her, who for me left an earl.'

Then sate they dallying in a shady bow'r,

Where maples, ash, and thorn did them embrace:

Whilst her enliv'ning breath produced each flow'r

In curious knots to damask o'er the place.

Oh! who would not his soul and substance tenter,

To be circumference to such a centre?

Now have our amorists attained the height

Of true content; and sate like billing doves.

She tells her quest, he his monastic flight, 3680

Whilst both recount their passions, fears, and loves,

Till Titans hasting to moist Thetis' arms

Bade them provide against his sister's harms.

Then, joining heart and hand with easy pace,

They travelled to a pague adjoining near

Where in a straw-thatched roof (an homely place

For such a pair) they entertainèd were,

And what fine cates old Kath'rine could afford,

Was served in state unto an aged board.

Their table with rich damask cloths was spread, 3690

Whose every twist outvied the double cable,

The napkins diaper, of equal thread,

The mourning trenchers clothèd were in sable.

A curious salt cut out o' th' boulder stone--

And for their plate--sincerely there was none.

The dropsied host like to a sew'r did strut,

To marshal every dish; and first did bring

A spacious bowl, to scour the narrow gut,

Of nut brown ale, a liquor for a king.

And says, 'My Bona Roba, drink this bowl, 3700

'Twill clear thy throat, and cheer thy drooping soul.'

Next came the mumping hostess and set down

A lusty dish of milk--sky-coloured blue,

Crumbed with the ludgets of the lusty brown,

Which two months since was piping hot and new;

'Yet 'tis', says she, 'as savoury in good law

As wheaten trash which crams the ladies' maw.'

This good old crone was troubled so with wind,

Her coats did dance to th' music of her belly.

Next came a barley dumpling whose harsh rind 3710

Was oilèd o'er with a fine tallow jelly

Brought by a mincing Marget, passing trim,

Whose juicy nose did make the pudding swim.

Next came some glotrah (which the ploughman flanks

Joined with a pudding on a holy day)

Brought by a jetting dame, on whom in ranks

And discipline of state whole troops did stray

Of--I forbear to say, lest these rude feet

With queasy dames and lady readers meet.

Last, a tough cheese must lock the stomach's door, 3720

Milked from a cow that fed on naught but burrs,

Had lain five winters on [a] spongy floor,

To gain an harness and a coat of furs;

So neatly peopled too, 'twas judg'd a court,

Such herds of gentles did about it sport.

Qualmish Bellama could not eat a bit,

'Cause luscious meats a surfeit soon provoke.

Albino vent'red but was fain to spit,

Lest those harsh viands should his monkship choke.

And whilst he hawkèd, and Bellama laugh'd, 3730

The trumping hostess stole a thumping draught.

'Are you so dainty-toothèd,' quoth mine host,

'That country victuals will not down with you?

You shall be fed with custards, pies, and roast.

Cannot your chops a boneless pudding chew?

I trow far worser is than this your fare,

Unless you kitchen-sculls and lick-spits are.'

'Ma' gep ma' faw,' the crabbèd hostess said,

'Let 'em e'en fast if they'll not eat their soul.

Is not my daughter Maudge as fine a maid? 3740

And yet by mack you see she trolls the bowl.

I've dressed a supper sure has pleasèd those,

Had wider purses far, and better clothes.'

'Pray, mother, 'gainst the young mon do not rage,'

Says full-lipped Madge, 'for he must be your son.

We are alike in face, of equal age;

Then ho! the match is soon concluded on.

Kuss me, my honest Dick, for we this night

With crickle crackle will the goblins fright.'

'Mass,' says mine host, 'I like the fellow well. 3750

To suckle bairns I'll give him tidy mull,

And my brown mare as sound as any bell,

With ten good shear-hogs to afford him wool,

And, if they please me, after me they shall

Sell nappy yale within this trusty wall.'

'Feck,' says mine hostess, 'they shall have a bed

With good strong sheets to pig together in,

A brazen pot, a kettle, and a lead,

Platters, bowls, pails, and an old kilderkin.

And if they please m' a brace of wheels to spin 3760

Mantles and clouts to wrap their bantlings in.'

Our lovers at this pretty talk did smile,

Then says Albino 'Here is no such haste,

I like: but yet we'll respite it a while,

Thou shall be, duck, some three nights longer chaste.

I'll man my sister at day's next attiring,

Then back and give my Maudge a curtain spring.'

When as his yielding had appeased the billows

Of their loud passions, and their meat digested,

Night's middle age invited to their pillows, 3770

But tell I dare not how the lovers rested,

Whether co-sheeting was allowed as fit,

Monastic vows dispensing well with it.

But this I say, there was but one guest-room,

Hanged with a pentice cloth spoke age enough;

The spiders here had one continued loom:

Here rats and mice did play at blind man's blough.

Their bed had many tasters, but no tester,

Their bedding ushered in thin-sided Easter.

Repentant mattress for chastising Lent, 3780

Stout as a face of steel, which ne'er will yield;

Their sheets were tenants, weekly payed rent,

The pillow was with juice of noddles steeled,

And therefore fit to bolster any sin.

Their coverlet was of a bullock's skin.

Their urine vessel was of Ticknall make,

Whose inside was with unshorn vellet clad.

Their bedstead floated in a springing lake

Where frogs and newts their rendezvouses had.

This was their guest-bed, and there was no other, 3790

Think you Bellama then lodged with her brother?

No: such pure virtues saint Bellama's breast,

And such clear sparks of honour heat his soul,

That such a thought would stain her virgin crest,

And blur the sacreds of Albino's roll.

Then die, black thoughts! Bellama's chaste denials

Repelled all charms of love and Venice-trials.

Nay, he ne'er tempted, nor attempted once

To scale the fortress of her virgin-tower,

For her chaste noes and vows did guard the sconce, 3800

That 'twas impregnable, not forced by power.

And, though he did ensphere her naked waist,

Yet durst my faith and oath conclude her chaste.

This longing on Albino worked so strong,

That, when the god of slumbers did entreat

Him to his court, into his thoughts did throng

His house of penance, hunger, cold and sweat.

So powerful was his dream entruthed with fear,

That his strong faith concluded he was there.

And in some sort he was, for when the East 3810

Was purpled with the blushes of the morn,

When his benumbèd senses were released

By the shrill sound of Gallus' bugle horn--

He heard a sound of words, and looking out,

He saw a legion of the monkish rout.

For you must know that, when Albino's wit

Had won him freedom, and Conrado thrall,

The jealous matron somewhat fearèd it,

And the next morning did 'Conrado' call,

Who (brooking ill his lodging) struck with fear, 3820

Made answer to the matron's question, 'Here'.

So, when her eyes suspicion truth had made,

She asked Conrado how that came to pass,

Quoth he, 'Credulity my fear o'erswayed,

I was deluded with the dukedom lass.

She promised me a dukedom for my pains,

And I, poor I, thought it sufficient gains!'

'Ha!' quoth the matron, 'could thy falsehood serve

Thus to dishonour me, and all my train?

His penalty is thine; till every nerve 3830

Shrink up with famine, thou shalt here remain.

Time will not measure years ere thou wilt say,

A dukedom for thy penance is no pay.'

'Madam,' quoth he, 'my senses were bewitchèd

With that pure white which dwelt upon her brow;

I scratched and pinched, but still my humours itchèd,

I stood upright, but still my heart did bow.

Who would not twice ten minutes in a brook

Chin-high and thirsty stand, to be a duke?'

Quoth she, 'I see that folly oversways, 3840

And Venus sovereign is of every sect.

To beauty every order homage pays,

Whilst only age and blackness gain neglect.

I 'xcuse thy frailty--haste unto thy dell--

The sentence of Felice's flight repell.'

Conrado thanked her, and away did pack

(As one reprievèd from the gallow tree

Still fearing that stern justice plucked him back)

Lest, Janus-like, her face should changèd be.

For well he knew the monthly hornèd queen 3850

No oft'ner fills her orb than she her spleen.

He Nature blamed, he could no faster run;

But, coming to the gate, the porter oped,

Who, much appalled to see a youthful nun,

Says, 'Mistress, do you travel to be coped?

Give me my fee: for sure, a plump-cheeked lass

Shall not the porter's lodge unkissèd pass.'

He could not quiet his impatient lust

Till he had shown the ensigns of his habit;

His parèd crown, with Venus' rays adust, 3860

Then left the mongrel his supposèd rabbit,

And slinked away from his monastic veil,

Just like a dog that newly burnt his tail.

When he had cast his woman, and put on

The habit of his order, he made haste

Unto his lord, told him Felice's gone,

And that his conscience did conclude her chaste.

'She Folco's large endowments must inherit,

And promised me to recompense my merit.'

The prior, smiling at his folly, checked 3870

Him for Apella's faith, and said his lass

Was young Albino in nun-vestments decked.

'(If that our porter had his double glass),

And since thy coming cleareth every doubt,

Harness yourselves to seek the younker out.'

As the attendants of an hunting prince,

Intending to disfrank an o'ergrown boar,

View the impressions of his feet, which, since

Last eve, were printed on the sandy shore,

Beating each bush, and in each cabin searching 3880

To find his frank, and not the pheasants perching.

And as when Reynald, with his wily plot,

Into the squadron of the geese is crept,

And grandsire Gander on his back has got,

Th' affrighted geese, like them which watch-tow'rs kept,

With shrill-toned gabblings wake the slumb'ring towns,

By Phoebe's candle to go seek the downs--

Some arm themselves with spits, one with a ladle,

Some snatch up pickforks, one a bill or knife.

The ambling nurse runs out and leaves the cradle, 3890

And the awed midwife flies the teeming wife;

Old grandsire greybeard his tuff bilbo gets,

And grandame Grissel with her distaff jets.

Just so our hair-lack monks pursued their quest,

Searched for his view, and threaded every grove

With bells, beads, books, and holy water blest,

And armed with envy's whips about did rove,

Their runagado Reynald to surprise,

And came to Stean ere the sun could rise.

Which sight unspirited Albino quite, 3900

That his invention could not teem a plot;

For in his looks his fear was writ in white,

And to his heart his frighted blood did trot.

Yet, calling courage to appear o' th' stage,

He sheathed his body in his woven cage.

Then hasting to the host, bade him awake,

Desired his counsel and assisting hand,

Says now his life and safety lay at stake.

For, at his door, a troop of shavelings stand.

'I am their errand: I must bid adieu 3910

To lovely Maudge, mine hostess, and to you.'

'Ho!' quoth mine host, and rubbed his gummy eyes,

'What says my son? Must thou be whirled away?

I warrant, boy, my club shall still their cries,

When 'bout their costards I shall make it play.

I'll dye their stark-nak'd crowns with their own blood,

Then let 'em come if that they think it good.'

'Good Sickerlin,' says Maudge, 'ere they shall have

My honey-sweeten Dick, I'll scratch and bite,

With scalding water I'll their noddles shave; 3920

Then buss me Dick, thy Maudge will for thee fight.'

'Thanks,' quoth he, 'duck, but yet it cannot be

That thy endeavours should advantage me.

But yet methinks I see some comfort dawn:

Yon tinker's budget strengthens every joint.

Send me some clothes by time's harsh grinders gnawn,

And I will be a tinker in each point.

My sister must have rags; and be my trull.

Thus veiled and clothed we will the shavelings gull.'

Accoutred in these robes of state, he made 3930

His face and hands in sooty vestures mourn.

Then waked Bellama, who was sore afraid

To see a tinker, and away does turn.

But grasping only air she shrilly cried,

'Art fled, Albino, from thy sweetheart's side?'

Which words, so shrilly spoke, made Echo babble;

Who, winged with envy, out o' th' window flies,

Carries 'Albino' to the monkish rabble,

They, hearing that, Perduers made their eyes

And, swelled with rage, against the door did knock, 3940

Whose aged breast could not endure the shock.

This stroke Albino's heart did almost break,

Yet bids Bellama sheath her body in

These homely rags, which only safety speak.

'Care not for coarseness, so they hide the skin,

And at this tinker's habit do not wonder,

'Tis but the curtain thy Albino's under.'

'What tipsied fellows at my door do beat

Thus early,' quoth mine host, 'is this your manners?

What? must mine hostess wait upon th' entreat 3950

Of tailors, cobblers, carpenters, and tanners?

If drinking be your errand, where ye got

Your last night's fuddling-cap, this morning trot.'

Impatient they did make the door unhinge,

Which gave an entrance to enraged Bardino.

He to the reverend host did lowly cringe,

Told him his errand was to seek Albino.

And as they did his homely cottage hem,

Albino's name came leaping unto them.

'Ho!' quoth mine host, 'unto mine house there came, 3960

Last night for lodging, a stout tinker knave,

Who now is ticking with his ragged dame.

Go, if with him ye any business have;

But who Albino is I cannot tell.

Here's no sike mon does penance in my cell.'

Into the arras-ceilèd parlour then,

The copesters went, in every corner snooked,

The tinker's visage none of them did ken,

But for Albino on Albino looked.

Well might he cozen them, whenas his saint 3970

Knew not his face under that mask of paint.

Then as they searchèd every place by chance

Conrado did his monkish vestments own

He lent Felice at their affiance.

The host, perceiving that the clothes were known,

Said, 'Yesterday, about the after three,

A fellow came and pawned those clothes to me.'

They asked Bellama then why she did call

Upon Albino. 'Why, forsooth,' said she,

'I was a servant once in Darwey Hall, 3980

Where that young monk I oftentimes did see;

Who oft in private would disport with me,

And promised that I should his sweeting be.

But, by misfortune being turned away,

This jovial tinker took me unto wife,

So, as this morn by his warm side I lay,

I of Albino dreamed--my joy, my life.'

'He's not thy mon,' quoth Maudge; 'thou li'st, base drab':

'Peace, housewife,' says mine host, 'you tattling blab.'

Thus had the scene been changed, had not the sire 3990

Suppressed her babblings with a check and grin.

The monks, well satisfied, gang to the fire

To taste the juice of Kate's old kilderkin.

The tinker and mine host would always cry,

'Fill, hostess, fill! the monks are still a-dry.'

_Canzone._

Drink full ones, tinker, methinks the monks are dry,

Drink healths, mine host, the monks do fear a thirst.

Are the monks thirsty? the monks will quickly try

If they or the tinker want a pillow first.

Else will we jig and hay unto the black pot's sound, 4000

Till to that music the house shall dance the round.

Then fill a dozen, hostess, we'll have a merry cup,

And make the tinker forfeit his budget and his brass.

'Faith,' says the tinker, 'I'll make your monkships sup

Till ye sing requiems in reading of the mass.'

Then fill a gallon, hostess, we'll health it all about,

Till all complain o' th' headache, the falling, or the gout.

Come on, dropping shavelings, let's see you count your beads,

I am half afraid you'll stutter in the mass.

Gramercy, lovely pots, and nimble Ganymedes, 4010

That brought more water than what holy was.

Well, saucy tinker, well, pray finger you your brass,

And let the monks alone, 'lone, they'll finger well the mass.

Pray, Gaffer Cowlists, why are ye so bald

To cool your _pia maters_ in a sweat?

Or did the water your wise noddles scald,

Which your devotions and hot zeal did heat?

Or are ye given unto Venus play?

I am afraid there went the hair away.

But base Bardino did this mirth eclipse 4020

(In his monastic life Albino's friend),

Viewing the travail of his hand, his lips,

He, by a secret mark, Albino kenned.

For, by some strange mishap, was set a brand,

An azure spot upon his abler hand.

Says he, 'Methinks you are too frolic, tinker,

Your mirth I fear presageth your disgrace,

You must no longer be mine hostess' skinker,

For you will say, unless y' have brazed your face--

That you both see and do Albino know: 4030

If you deny 't, I have your hand to show.

During the time that you were cowled and coped,

On your right hand there dwelt a cerule mark,

Which ne'er would off, although 'twas often soaped.'

'Well,' quoth mine host, 'but pray your worship, hark,

May not two men be like? may there not be

The selfsame spot of him, and you, and me?'

This could not yet appease Bardino's hate,

Still teeming mischief, and with envy big;

So, starting up, he fumed, and loud did prate, 4040

And snatchèd off Albino's periwig.

Now 'gainst two witnesses he could not stand,

Whenas his head bore witness with his hand.

Albino excused, it was by nature so,

Saying no razor e'er did touch his skull.

'No,' says Bardino, 'it again does grow;

Thou canst not with this fop my wisdom gull.

Keep him, my brethren, and meanwhile I will

Fetch the watch-beggar and his rusty bill.'

Bellama did meanwhile what language can, 4050

With oilèd words and pity-pleading tears,

Beseeching these to free her weddèd man.

But to her voice they cottoned had their ears,

Until an Angel did appear unto them,

And with his goldy looks and music woo them.

Then did they yield to let them go away,

And they meantime would feign a deading sleep.

They for a second licence would not stay,

But hasting out along the ditches creep.

And as they went a raddle-man they meet, 4060

Whom with kind airs and highway phrase they greet.

And, greeting past, Albino did require

To change apparel with him, and his trade,

Giving him cash to hasten his desire.

'With all my heart,' the raddle-younker said

(Ne'er questioning the cause); 'yet, by the mass,

My dames will say I am a podging ass.'

Thus changed they clothes and budgets: then with lead

On the new tinker's hand Albino made

A mark like his, to gull his envious bead. 4070

With raddle-crimson then, fit for his trade,

He clothed his face, and gave Bellama some,

So trudged away, for fear the monk should come.

Have you beheld a hound in sudden fright,

Whom powder feared, or else the staff did beat,

How oft he turns, and looks, yet keeps on flight?

So they, with glancing eyes, would oft retreat,

Yet movèd forward still as in a ship

The pilots backward look, yet forward skip.

But our new tinker, swellèd with content, 4080

Fearing no colours, to the town did pass,

Crying, as he along the hamlet went,

'Ha y' any need ho! of a tinker's brass?'

Bardino now returned in a chafe,

And ask'd the tinker's name, who answer'd, 'Rafe.'

'Where dwell'st thou?' 'Anywhere?' 'How long

Hast tink'ring used?' 'I cannot tell.'

Then 'bout the tinker all the monks did throng,

Whilst he, poor fellow, thought h' had been in hell.

For till that day he never saw such creatures, 4090

And what they were he knew not by their features.

Bardino fearèd this was but a gull,

And says, 'Good fellow, let me see thy hand.'

'I'm not asham'd to show 't, by cock and bull.'

Bardino, viewing 't well, espied the brand,

And says, 'Sir youth, before you cozened me:

But now in sooth I will be meet with thee.'

'Devil or friar, whatsoe'er thou art,

What taunting language dost thou give to me?

Ha!' quoth the tinker. Quoth Bardino, 'Smart 4100

Shall give a comment of my words to thee.'

'Smart?' quoth the tinker. 'Swig for Smart and you:

I bid defiance unto all thy crew.

Talk not to me of Smart: for if you prate

This knotty staff shall bastinado you.

I'll set a scarlet cap upon thy pate,

And lace thy shoulders with a purple blue.'

'Peace, honest tinker,' say the other monks.

'Aye! I will peace it, if I catch the hunks.'

But let the monks and tinker take their chances. 4110

We'll view the travels of our raddle-man,

With faint Bellam', whom every fear entrances,

And every trance does make her roses wan.

Thus far their loves have tragi-comic been,

Thwarted by Fate and the unconstant Queen.

But every planet with kind aspect now

Views their long-travelled loves; and Venus' boy

Smiles on their wishes with auspicious brow.

Now a full harvest must they have of joy,

Though sowed with black disasters, dangers, fears, 4120

Dispair, hope, doubtings, sad complaints, and tears.

For aged Starley's tow'rs (that fatal stage

Where Danes did act their juries once in blood,

When bellowing cannons belchèd out their rage)

Within the kenning of our lovers stood.

And the well-tunèd bells did loud proclaim

Joy to the lovers in great Hymen's name.

A near ally Albino in this town

(By order a devout Carthusian) had,

Whose voice he hoped with joy their loves should crown. 4130

But he, a slave in raddle vestures clad

And a ragged Marget seeing, started back,

Bidding his knaveship to some other pack.

He would have no commerce with such as he,

He had no ewes whose backs did want his raddle,

And if he over-saucy needs would be,

With a good bat he would his gaskins swaddle.

'The Provost Marshal else, if this does fail,

Shall show you lodging in the whipstock jail.'

This language sounded in Bellama's ears 4140

Like the sad voice of death, yet fear no slaughter.

To joy straight changed shall be this scene of tears,

And stead of grief the child of pleasure, laughter.

My promise stands unshaked: for this short anger

Brings not their loves nor safeties unto danger.

'Sir,' quoth Albino, 'there was once a time

When you esteemed those wingèd minutes sainted

You spent with me (when Fortune was in prime),

For you and I have better been acquainted;

Though some disasters and stern Fate have made 4150

Me take this homely garb and homelier trade.

Some blood which in your azure channels glide

Dwells in my veins: I am Albino hight,

And lest you think this smells too much of pride,

View this triangle on my able right.'

That sight unto rejoicings beat alarms,

His kinsman then ensphered him in his arms.

So led them both under his archèd roof,

Breathing kind welcomes from his courteous lips;

Excus'd his ignorance and sharp reproof, 4160

Asked what misfortune did his worth eclipse.

Demanding how coy Fortune dealt with him,

And who she was that was so passing trim?

'Unless high heavens do forbid the bane,

This maid shall be my bride, though homely dressed;

Clothes oftentimes the purest beauty stain,

And Venus most unclothed is clothèd best.

Under this roof of rags Bellama dwells,

Fraught with diviner worth than nature spells.'

'Hymen enrich your wishes with content, 4170

As benign heaven has enriched your face

With nature's glory, beauty's orient,'

Says the Carthusian with a comely grace;

'Thrice welcome! welcome! for your lovely grace

Will add a lustre to my homely place.'

'Sir, my endeavours shall be wholly spent

Henceforth,' quoth she, 'to recompense your air.'

'This is no time, forsooth, to compliment,

Prithee adjourn thy words of courtship, fair,

For till our hands be joined as well as hearts 4180

I fear', quoth he, 'supplanting Envy's darts.

Good cousin, ere the next day's sun be rolled

Th' Apogaeum, our meridian point,

Favour our wishes with the "have and hold".

Tie us so fast fate may not us disjoint.

For Envy, like a snake, does crawl about,

And winds her tail in where she holes her snout.

Omit no nuptial rites; with holy oil

Let her anoint the posts, with virgin hand

To Janus consecrate the wether's spoil, 4190

And to those gods which for our households stand,

Procure horn torches to be borne along,

And cry "Thalassus!" with a bridal song.

Provide me store of nuts to throw about

With a full hand unto the gaping boys,

That from the tumults of the struggling rout

All voices may be damped that speak not joys.

Over us two let the same Flamine fall,

And let the wheaten cake consummate all.

Nor will we manumiss these robes of state, 4200

Within whose walls blest safety only dwells.

Lest our known faces, and apparel, prate

In louder echoes than the marriage bells.

Then say, fair lady, truth I do not jeer,

Will you be wedded to a scarleteer?'

Quoth she, with blushes carpeting her cheek,

'And is that question, prithee, yet to ask?

Your worth does merit the unequalled Greek,

Without nun-penance or Alcides' task.

Then [I] pray you (in truth it is no gull) 4210

Will you be married to a tinker's trull?'

Thus sleep and mirth did cut the night: and ere

The sovereignty was ta'en from Cynthia's horn,

When at East's casement newly did appear

The orient brightness of the rising morn,

Albino rose, and to the church did haste

T' un-nun Bellama and ungird her waist.

When the Carthusian's voice had crowned their amours

With an assurance of Thalassian joys,

The air was thinnèd with the joyful clamours 4220

(Not of state-satins) but of grammar boys;

And our fresh sponsants in that height of mirth

To every pleasure gave an easy birth.

Now are they landed on the isle of bliss,

Where every joy courts their desires with pleasure;

Envy did then her snaky train dismiss,

For their espousals did all sweet entreasure.

Dead grief bequeathed her stings to thorn and thistle.

Nor durst a sigh within those borders whistle.

Then, as sea-merchants when their reeling galley, 4230

Drunk with salt Neptune, hazardeth their breaths,

To calm bold tempest and the Triton's valley,

Hack on the quiet shore their brackèd sheaths,

So did our amorists, half wrack'd with eye-men,

Devote their raddle vests to Love and Hymen.

Some marrow-lancing eye perchance may quarrel,

'Cause with the bridal torch my muse expires;

And in loud jeers his tow'ring voice apparel,

Taxing the faintness of my metric fires,

Because my lines tread not the common path 4240

Of fortune, issue, and appeasing wrath.

Perhaps I dare not lengthen out my story

With those events succeeding time begot,

Lest some disaster should eclipse their glory,

And the pure ermines of their pleasures spot.

For having screwed them into firm embraces,

I will not waken hate or rouse disgraces.

Yet beauty (know) when virtue shines upon her,

And virtues (know) [when] skin-perfections gloss 'em,

Awe Fortune's wrath, and challenge heaven's honour. 4250

Hell cannot cancel them, nor Envy dross 'em.

Love! if to me the same content thou'lt yield,

I'll limn thy mother on Minerva's shield.

Notes: The Pleasing History of _Albino_ and _Bellama_

[Line: 6 In which of the various fancy _Bruts_ 'Adell' occurs

I am not at the moment certain. Brydges, I suppose, deceived

by _Don_ Fuco, &c., oddly 'places the scene in Spain'.]

[Line: 15 age of consistency] = 'grow tired of existing

together'--a Whitingism almost _Brownist_ in character.]

[Line: 25 'Agathite'] 'Agath' is a form of 'agate': is

'agathite' a coinage suggested by the blending of colours in

the agate?]

[Line: 27 Saba] The Queen of Sheba.]

[Line: 50 rein] Orig. 'veine'. But it must, as the little

Errata paragraph at the end admits, be 'rein'. All this may be

extravagant, but it is poetry.]

[Line: 61 'The curlèd tapers of the firmament' is not exactly

contemptible, I fancy.]

[Line: 66 Whiting must certainly have known his Shakespeare.

'Crisp' appears there nowhere as a noun, but its use here must

almost certainly have been suggested by the '_crisp_ heaven'

of _Timon_, iv. iii. 183. 'Spang' is Baconian, and not

uncommon.]

[Line: 70 Orig. has 'Lady Curtain' and no 'this'--a state of

things which led me quite wrong at first.]

[Line: 126 _Ven_-Bacchus] Venus-Bacchus?]

[Lines: 131-2 I have ventured to suggest 'mendings' for these

exceedingly gappy lines.]

[Line: 148 knee] This is the correction in the _errata_ of

'tener'.]

[Line: 149 bean-manors] = Manors held at a bean instead of a

peppercorn? Or misprint for 'bea_u_-manors'? This latter, for

'Beaumanor' is a known name, and Beaumanoir a better, would be

quite like Whiting. My friend Sir Frederick Pollock, to whom I

appealed after a question whether 'bene' in a legal sense

was possible, decided that the phrase could have no technical

meaning either as 'bean' or 'bene', but suggested 'rents'.

This makes excellent sense, but is not, perhaps, on that

account more likely here.]

[Line: 211 Sable] Any black-coated man of letters.]

[Line: 212 Adel's stamps] I suppose, the coin of the realm.]

[Line: 219 A Master of Arts ought to have known better than to

make 'Thule' mono-syllabic, though the general public used

to pronounce it so in reference to a once popular book of the

late Mr. William Black's.]

[Line: 259 trutinate] = 'balance'. Don Fuco also had

apparently enjoyed the advantages of a classical education.]

[Line: 275 'Indod' like 'adad', and many other forms of

corrupted evasion of the Third Commandment.]

[Lines: 290-1 Tennyson is known to have been no inconsiderable

reader, but he can hardly have known this parody--by

anticipation--of a famous line in _[OE]none_.]

[Line: 295 trencher-cloaks] cut short? '_Re_cognizance' is

again, if not exactly Shakespearian, not far off.]

[Line: 309 Here 'blough' is certainly in the sense of

'muffle', and therefore gives a light on the use _supra_

(_Author's Apology_, l. 5).]

[Line: 322 Why this fling at Skelton's exceedingly pretty

verses to Isabel Pennel I do not in the least know.]

[Line: 327 Tripherus] See Juvenal, _Sat._ xi. 137.]

[Line: 394 Orig. 'phrentezy'.]

[Line: 418 entrails] Orig. 'intrals'. Not a very common form,

but justified by the Low Latin _intralia_.]

[Lines: 421-4 There is a reference to Drayton's _Nymphidia_,

where Oberon and Pigwiggen drink from a 'bottell' of 'Lethe

spring', and forget their quarrel. For a further reference to

this poem, see l. 1420.]

[Line: 465 'breath'. A seventeenth-century form.]

[Line: 489 I have kept 'ante' because I do not know whether it

is for 'aunt' or 'ant'. Neither seems to give much sense.]

[Line: 500 There is certainly a long _s_ in original, and

'sore-head' is intelligible, but 'forehead' would go better

with 'flag'.]

[Line: 537 Whiting, for all his extravagance, triviality, and

so forth, has occasionally an odd gift of phrase. 'Pandora was

not treasured up in faces' is an instance.]

[Line: 538 possessing elves] = 'The actual possessors'.]

[Line: 541 The maid] Thisbe, I suppose, though there is

nothing to separate her from other maids that 'sat in

Babylon'.]

[Line: 551 peevish girl] Scylla.]

[Lines: 569-70 See Ovid _Met._ I. 523.]

[Line: 591 coarse] Orig. 'course', as so often.]

[Line: 600 'gales' = rents, or royalties, in reference to the

earl's land.]

[Line: 639 Orig. 'phillits'.]

[Line: 648 I have left 'croe' because I do not know whether it

stands for 'crew' or (as above) 'crow' = 'knocker'.]

[Line: 651 angel-looks] = 'those of a messenger'.]

[Line: 668 'vermilion looks' suggests Dryden's 'church

vermilion', but that would have no sense in the context.]

[Line: 677 Serrat] Our Lady of Montserrat? Why St. Katherine

should have a specially flaxen wig is another of the posers

occurring so constantly. But after all why should she _not_?]

[Line: 748 The author, from several signs, must have written

this odd poem in no small haste. But he must indeed have been

in a hurry when, as would here seem, he confounded 'casket'

and 'carcanet'. Cf. l. 953.]

[Line: 757 Some word like 'talking' is wanted here.]

[Line: 748 The author, from several signs, must have written

this odd poem in no small haste. But he must indeed have been

in a hurry when, as would here seem, he confounded 'casket'

and 'carcanet'. Cf. l. 953.]

[Line: 757 Some word like 'talking' is wanted here.]

[Line: 822 I suppose 'flazing' (the original) is only a

misprint for 'flaring'; but with Whiting you can never be

quite sure.]

[Line: 829 Orig. 'archy-'.]

[Line: 834 Orig. 'weekes', as in Spenser, _F. Q._ ii. x. 30,

2.]

[Line: 844 'boat-boy'? Phaon who is mentioned ll. 3582 foll.,

and whose later stage of beauty might entitle him to complete

his quintet with his 'fare' Venus, Helen, and Narcissus.]

[Line: 862 'the poet'. Horace in _Odes_, III. xix. 11-15.]

[Line: 904 en-neale] Whiting has used this word before,

l. 191, but less oddly. It seems here to mean 'portray

indelibly', 'preserve as in mosaic or enamel'. Cf. l. 1521.]

[Line: 918 Butler, as Brydges noticed, must surely have seen

this.]

[Line: 920 That 'Prior' is usual and sufficient did not matter

to Whiting: he wanted three syllables and an easy rhyme, so he

made what he wanted.]

[Line: 953 This line settles the question (_v. sup._, l. 748)

as to Whiting's confusion of 'casket' and 'carcanet'. It

is even possible to guess at the cause--the original French

_carcan_, 'a prisoner's chain', 'prison' suggesting 'place of

confinement'.]

[Line: 975 'Archy-' in original as before. The use of the

French corresponding form 'archi-' instead of the English

'arch-' is probably not accidental.]

[Line: 987 The sharp change here from the straightforward

'frosts' &c. to this ellipse of 'as [that] he [should] want'

is noticeable.]

[Lines: 989-90 Another Dryden suggestion. The improvement in

O daughter of the Rose, whose cheeks unite

The differing titles of the red and white,

is of course immense. But Cambridge poets have always had a

laudable habit of reading each other, and _Albino and Bellama_

was not such a very old poem when Dryden went up.]

[Line: 998 Original, ridiculously enough, '_a_ A perc_ee_'!

I think Whiting's is the worst printed book of the scores, if

not hundreds, I have read for this collection.]

[Line: 1004 It is delightful to think how the persons who were

shortly to hold Cleveland for a greatest living poet must have

enjoyed this metaphysical translation of 'He kissed her when

nobody was looking'!]

[Line: 1027 'Venice' for 'glass'--'ice'. As I have said,

you may do almost anything you like to Whiting in the way of

interpretation.]

[Line: 1058 So, again, I suppose 'vowel-plasters' means 'vocal

pleadings', but I should not dare to be certain.]

[Line: 1068 'Teen', as more than once annotated, = 'light'; so

eight lines lower.]

[Line: 1081 Of the numerous shades of the word 'baulk',

'parry' or 'foil' comes nearest here]

[Line: 1084 are] 'or' in the original.]

[Line: 1086 'Chester'] = 'he who chests'--and why not?]

[Line: 1112 The metaphors as well as the bloods are something

mixed: but again, why not?]

[Line: 1130 Although 'toll' was never (and then less than

now) confined to funerals Whiting had better have used another

word.]

[Line: 1155 'Anchorist', is at any rate better than

'Priorist'. Fuller used it later.]

[Line: 1172 If Bellama, who indeed seems to have been an

outspoken young lady, had regarded manners in regard to her

love as little as Agamemnon in regard to his wife, she might

have told him that his verses were rather long.]

[Line: 1211 satonisco]? Form of 'satin', unknown elsewhere.]

[Line: 1214 'frank', again Shakespearian, is of course

proper to the boar only; but Whiting did not regard invidious

distinctions.]

[Line: 1244 There is, of course, not the slightest

justification for 'rosy', but our poet was _supra_ not merely

_grammaticam_ but _vocabularium_ and everything else.]

[Line: 1271 An odd and rather awkward metaphor.]

[Line: 1294 Orig. 'quoth she'--but, of course, Albino is the

speaker.]

[Line: 1306 Does 'wretch_ing_' occur elsewhere? 'Wretch' as

a verb is quoted, but only as Scots, and only in the sense

of 'be miserly'. Whiting, though not muddle-headed, was so

feather-headed in the use of words that one must take into

account the possibility of '_r_etching', i.e. 'vomiting

blasphemy', and can hardly neglect as _im_possible a careless

confusion with 'wretch_less_, = 'reckless'.]

[Line: 1340 The poet changes number from 'nips' to 'uncrown'

with his usual lightness of heart.]

[Line: 1376 Cf. Ps. xlvi. 9, 'Knappeth the spear in sunder'.]

[Lines: 1420-4 This is a reference to Drayton's _Nymphidia_,

where Hob searches for the Fairy Queen, who has gone off with

Pigwiggen (cf. ll. 421-4).--It will he observed that, as in

the case of Kingsley's hero, 'the party is taken ill with a

poem' on every provocation.]

[Line: 1432 We want 'Daffa-down_a_-dillies'.]

[Line: 1442 An Alexandrine: not as yet common in the piece.]

[Line: 1450 'ermelin', with its equivalents, is rather the

commoner form in all mediaeval languages.]

[Line: 1461 _Carduus benedictus_]

[Line: 1519 Why 'Irish' who can say? The only sensible remark

which presents itself on this piece of nonsense (I have not,

of course, attempted to alter the gibberish in any way) is

that dialect seems to have been increasing its hold on popular

fancy off the stage, as well as in Brome's _Northern Lass_,

&c. on it.]

[Line: 1521 Here 'en-nealed' throws its light backward on the

use _supra_ (l. 904) as simply 'enamelled'.]

[Line: 1539 vit] 'vil' in original.]

[Line: 1558 Orig. 'choyce'; but this must be one of the

innumerable misprints which the Errata paragraph treats so

cavalierly.]

[Line: 1559 For novel] = 'as a novelty'?]

[Line: 1561 Orig. '_s_eiling'--the _s_ being common (though,

of course, wrong) earlier as well as at this time.]

[Line: 1569 Orig. 'guilt'.]

[Line: 1602 'coven' in this sense should be 'covent', but

Whiting affects the form: see 2686, 3167.]

[Line: 1615 A sufficiently mysterious line.]

[Line: 1645 Orig. 'Volgo's'.]

[Line: 1714 Query, 'If satin's difference can maids adorn'.]

[Line: 1716 'fligger' has a certain dialectic sense of

'flutter', and as its congener 'flicker' has one of 'snigger',

'jeer', it probably has that here.]

[Line: 1745 dors] = 'bumblebees'--somewhat unworthily yoked.]

[Line: 1750 The extraordinary double plural of 'females fairs'

(orig. 'fair_e_s') would seem impossible in any other author.

Perhaps 'female', but the rhyme requires 'fairs'.]

[Line: 1784 'Sh'as'] A no doubt unintentional compelling of

the apostrophe to do double duty.]

[Line: 1844 Whiting was apparently more fashionable in his

astronomy than Bacon or Browne.]

[Line: 1863 The slang use of 'dust' is found in Wilkins's

_Miseries of Enforced Marriage_. 1607, 'Come, down with

your dust'. One would be disposed to think it a parallel

to 'dross', &c.--terms contemptuous of money, but generally

employed by those who have not got it.]

[Line: 1865 dealth] I suppose this is another of Whiting's

many inventions. Cf. _Il Insonio_, 347.]

[Line: 1873 Orig. 'everts', which must be wrong.]

[Line: 1882 Orig. 'phrentick'. This middle form between

'fren_e_tic' and 'fr_a_ntic' is M. E. (for instance, in

Langland), but is not, I think, common later.]

[Line: 1883 pargèd] This is one of Whiting's redeeming

vividnesses. The verb is, of course, the same as 'parget'--'to

plaster or distemper'. Cf. _Il Insonio_, 73.]

[Line: 1911 Whether 'buzzled' is 'bustled' or 'buzzed' I am

not sure. Cf. _Il Insonio_, 107. 'He buzzles like a bustard in

a wind'.]

[Line: 1930 Orig. 'Bagno's'.]

[Line: 1931 for] Not quite impossible, but unlikely. 'Fore'?]

[Line: 1945 'cowlist' may raise a doubt as to the passage

_supra, The Author to his Book_, l. 58.]

[Line: 1959 I suppose 'eighteen hooks' means hooks to catch

persons eighteen years old. But for cautions against being too

sure Whiting is sovereign.]

[Line: 1965 'drilling' for 'trickling' we had before.]

[Line: 1969 'tamm[e]y's (as in original). Still a word for

coarse cloth.]

[Line: 1984 Once more, if 'jen-_net_' is superfluous and you

cannot think of any rhyme but 'Bennet' why not overrun?]

[Line: 1995 b_l_anched?] 'Lilies' equalling 'cheeks'? But I

would not dictate to Whiting.]

[Line: 2009 huffing waste] 'Pretentious prodigality', as

Bellama was a rich pensioner.]

[Line: 2027 'innupted' is better and better. According to that

lofty view of the genuine writer which insists that he shall

never be at a loss for a word to fit matter and form at once,

Whiting should stand very high.]

[Line: 2048 Orig. 'ear_r_hs'.]

[Line: 2071 Neptune's grandchild] Cupid; but the affiliation

is irregular.]

[Line: 2083 The only meaning I can think of for this

marvellous phrase is, 'He could get the various _dresses_,

but he could not change his own face to suit and give voice to

them'.]

[Line: 2116 Felice] Orig. 'Phæliche' throughout.]

[Line: 2120 Issa] _v._ Martial, i. 110, on the pet dog of

Publius:

Hanc ne lux rapiat suprema totam,

Picta Publius exprimit tabella,

In qua tam similem videbis Issam,

Ut sit tam similis sibi nec ipsa, &c. &c.

]

[Line: 2137 lede] = 'speech', 'tale'. Whether Whiting got this

from Chaucer's 'ledene' one cannot say; but he seems to have

been a man of some reading.]

[Line: 2150 worlds] Play on 'globes'?]

[Line: 2154 'And' would make the next line and a half refer to

Bellama, which does not seem likely.]

[Line: 2174 'Lorrett_a_ is, all things considered, a rather

unfortunate feminizing of Lorett_o_ to denote Our Lady

thereof.]

[Lines: 2188-93 Is this one of the 'misplaced staves' so very

coolly left to the reader's discovery in the Errata-note?

(_v. inf._, p. 551). It looks as if it ought to come after its

present successor.]

[Line: 2196 'rosies', another coinage, of which Whiting was

fond: see ll. 2523, 3344, 3348, 3436.]

[Line: 2220 his] Not that the Prioress thought him masculine

as yet.]

[Line: 2226 camp] Orig. 'came'--from the rhyme an obvious

misprint, but why 'lanky'? Because of mortifications? Cf. 2199

'lankcloister' and 2553 'lanky crew'.]

[Line: 2301 rape] Probably for 'rap', 'valueless coin'.]

[Line: 2382 vogliarell[a] 'Little wish', 'fancy'.]

[Line: 2404 crayfish] Orig. 'creevish' is nearer to

_écrevisse_ and the M. E. _crevis_ than the more modern

forms.]

[Line: 2410 orc] 'vessel as big as a whale'. Orig. 'Orke'.]

[Line: 2415 'glorrah'. Evidently the same word as 'glotrah'

in l. 3714, and apparently some kind of food capable of being

made into a 'shape'.]

[Line: 2427 tempo-pates. Query, pates as bald as Father

Time's.]

[Line: 2453 [*] The first part of this 'pie' is pretty clearly

'jovial', but the rest is mere guesswork. Perhaps 'a jovial

charect'.]

[Line: 2527 Quiris?]

[Line: 2552 sew] 'sue' in orig.]

[Line: 2562 'ptisick' = 'phthisic' would be intelligible in

another context, but not here.]

[Line: 2592 Larv'd] = 'masked'.]

[Line: 2613 In the original, 'by constraint, not, court, lye

sleight'. The punishment fits the crime he had committed in

the nuns' narrow beds.]

[Line: 2652 a-darkness] Like 'a-bed', &c.]

[Line: 2656 'Sesamoidesse'. From the Greek [Greek:

sêsamoeides], a kind of reseda, the medical use of which is

noted in Hippocrates; Strabo also refers to it as a charm in

vogue to reduce tumours.]

[Line: 2686 'Coven', as before.]

[Line: 2689 'vezzo'] Cf. 'vogliarell'.]

[Line: 2721 'Not' carried on to 'laughs'.]

[Line: 2754 trig] To 'trot', 'run'. Apparently Lancashire and

Yorkshire dialect to this day.]

[Line: 2833 'eye-lid rain' may be tears, or a misprint for

'eye-_let_'; _v. sup._, l. 795.]

[Line: 2851 fleecèd] = 'mouldy'.]

[Line: 2861 copèd]? = 'encountered', 'met with'. Cf 3855.]

[Line: 2862 Orig. '_Of_ on'.]

[Line: 2889 Orig. 'Mà boun'.']

[Line: 2897 sience] = 'scion'.]

[Line: 2924 salve] Where did she get it?]

[Line: 2970 Folco] ? Albino-Felice rather.]

[Line: 2971 Sardonic, an adjective formed from 'sardonyx'?]

[Line: 2993 threnes] = 'wailings'--_Graece_.]

[Line: 3038 'Vitruvius' for 'Vesuvius' is going pretty far,

but can be caught up. 'Ichonian' eludes me.]

[Line: 3043 Here Whiting seems to present one of his

characteristic retorts to criticism: 'If you say Mab for

Mabel, why may I not say Mabel for Mab?']

[Line: 3101 'the other _Nunc_'] We say 'the other day', and

'just now'. Why not 'the other minute', and so 'the other

now'?]

[Line: 3116 swogging] Palsgrave, in a passage which I owe

to the late Professor Skeat, 'I swag as a fat person's belly

swaggeth as he goeth', might almost have been annotating

this passage. Cf. also, of course, 'swagger'. As for the _o_,

'Maggie' and 'Moggie', 'flap' and 'flop', and a hundred other

pairs, occur.]

[Line: 3118 We had 'claret' thus used in Benlowes, vol. 1, p.

358 (l. 202).]

[Line: 3143 larvèd] As before, l. 2592.]

[Line: 3152 Is this found elsewhere?]

[Line: 3155 The union of body and soul.]

[Line: 3158 Orig. 'rithmes'.]

[Line: 3160 'Ascending' _&c._ 'the ladder'.]

[Line: 3170 'Ferny flag' is not so bad for the tossed

antlers.]

[Line: 3179 Malèd] Is this for 'mailed'? = '_armoured_ by fear

against the briars'?]

[Line: 3182 _Donnes_] _Donne_? 'ladies'?]

[Line: 3202 Where again he got a trusty or untrusty Turkish or

other blade 'you shall tell me', as Prince Seithenin says. But

it is doubtless 'necessary to the action'.]

[Line: 3208 Orig. 'Cypresse', which is quite another thing,

unless he meant Libitina.]

[Line: 3210 Orig., which I quote merely to show the

extraordinary ill-printing of the book, '_o_lse'!]

[Line: 3228 Was a 'helm' part of the dress which a monk

suddenly flying from his cloister would have 'at _temp._ of

tale'?]

[Line: 3230 Orig. 'wooddards'.]

[Line: 3264 airs] = 'breaths' = 'words'?]

[Line: 3277 Orig. 'led'.]

[Line: 3329 terse] I do not remember a similarly _concrete_

application of 'terse' as 'elegant', 'well-modelled and

outlined'. But, as has been so frequently asked, 'Why not?'

Indeed, the plumber's 'wiped' for a 'shaped' joint, though

certainly not so intended, is a translation of it.]

[Line: 3343 Narcissus' hate] = Echo.]

[Lines: 3344, 3348 Orig., as before, '_rosy_es'.]

[Line: 3354 not] Orig. '_h_ot'!]

[Line: 3363 'Dreane' is, of course, 'drain'. There is a form

_drenian_ (though it is not the only one) in A.S. Cf. p. 539,

l. 2.]

[Line: 3367 Rather a fine line, and 'the Child of Sin', though

of course not original, is interesting _before Milton_ for

Death.]

[Line: 3374 This looks at first like a most remarkable

super-painting of the lily. But the violets are the veins.]

[Line: 3396 Orig. ''Tis th' countenance': but Whiting is

rarely, if ever, rough to this extent, and his printer might

do anything.]

[Line: 3437 _Phyma_] Whiting, or his printer, must surely have

confused [Greek: phyma], 'a malignant growth', 'tumour', with

[Greek: physa], 'a fiery blast'.]

[Line: 3442 had] Orig. 'ha_b_'. So in l. 3437 'u_g_on' and in

l. 3444 'whe_o_'. There was apparently no correction of the

press at all.]

[Line: 3460 healthed] = 'seen that they were in health'.]

[Line: 3467 forth'] So orig. Of course Whiting may have

written 'for_th_ th''.]

[Lines: 3493-7 Some confusion here between Proserpine and

Eurydice.]

[Line: 3533 This scene has a _Robin-and-Makyne_ character,

which might have been made very good and is actually not quite

bad.]

[Line: 3558 feeted] = 'put into metre'.]

[Line: 3581 Orig. 'f_t_am'd'.]

[Line: 3582 seq. The story of Aphrodite and her gift to Phao

is vulgate, but the goddess's _alias_ is not Greek to me.

In the atrocious printing of the original it might be either

'Sea's' or (more nearly) 'Se_d_'s'. The latter is a clear

_vox nihili_, and as, I suppose, even Nathaniel Whiting in the

height of his pranks would not make 'Se-a' a dissyllable,

I suppose also that he wrote '_the_ Sea's' and the printer

dropped the article.]

[Line: 3604 Circe is rather loosely called Glaucus' _wife_.]

[Line: 3606 Who was or were Holgoy?]

[Line: 3608 'Helio_tro_pion' rather--the Moonstone, much used

in magic.]

[Line: 3612 Polupists] = 'pluralists'.]

[Line: 3616 Pompholyx is a 'bubble', thence a 'blister', and

thence again a sort of eczema. But whether it became a name

for one of the 'Fauna of Fancy' I do not find.]

[Line: 3617 'Your loves catch feathers.' In the original,

'Your loves with catch-feathers'; the 'with' seems to have

been taken over from the preceding line.]

[Line: 3622 Mantuan] There is a similar reference in _Il

Insonio_, ll. 365-6.]

[Line: 3627 'Quinque _literae_' is said to be used of Hebrew

roots. But whether anybody preceded Whiting's restless and

fantastic ingenuity in making a half English half Latin

_femina quinque literarum_ to match the _homo trium_ I do not

know. The word itself is obvious enough.]

[Line: 3676 'Tenter' = stretch on tenter-hooks, rack.]

[Line: 3685 pague] Lat. _pagus_, anglicized and transferred

from 'district' to 'village'.]

[Line: 3704 'Lugget' is said to be still dialectic for 'a

small load of corn', and there are numerous senses of 'lug'

meaning 'protuberances'. So I suppose 'ludgets' are knobs or

lumps of bread. But to tell the truth the description of this

meal requires nearly as strong a stomach to read as the meal

itself to eat, and I shall say little more of it. Naughtiness

is sometimes (though by no means so necessarily as appears to

some authors and critics) amusing: nastiness never is. I shall

therefore take the liberty of not annotating for a page or

two.]

[Line: 3796 This line would be a good text for a discourse on

the type of writing. 'Blur the holier entries of Albino's page

with the recording Angel' is its equivalent, and there have

been times when that would have been approved as '_w_ery

pretty'. But 'roule' in orig. may be a misprint for 'soule'.]

[Line: 3797 'Venice' and 'Venus' have been played upon before

by the writer: they are probably, but not quite necessarily,

interchanged here by the printer. It may perhaps be noted that

in the original the printer, weary of mere misspelling

and misprinting, has taken to mispaging. The text goes on

straight, but the pages after 129 are numbered 26, 12, 132,

133, 130, 131, 136, 137, 134, 135, 140, 141, and so on.]

[Lines: 3806-7 It is odd what good lines and phrases this

poetaster can sometimes turn out.

Into his thoughts did throng

His house of penance, hunger, cold, and sweat,

is worthy the most undoubted poet.]

[Line: 3844 'dell' is not unlike Whiting, but, of course,

'cell' suggests itself.]

[Line: 3845 'repell' = repeal.]

[Line: 3871 Apella] _Credat Iudaeus_.]

[Line: 3874 Not 'saw double' but 'had the use of his eyes'.]

[Line: 3892 Orig. 'tuffe'. Was Whiting reminiscent of _The

Nun's Priest's Tale_ here?]

[Line: 3939 Perduer] Apparently 'a soldier who goes on a

forlorn hope'.]

[made their eyes] = 'stared as hard as they could'.

Whiting himself certainly 'makes his _words_ perduers'

in this sense.]

[Line: 3948 Orig. 'tispyde'.]

[Line: 3967 'Copester' (orig. 'coapster') here, and 'coped'

('coap't') in l. 4032, have nothing to do with the amorous

sense in which the word has been formerly used. The

signification is simply 'wearing a cope'.

The 'Canzone' appears to aim at a sort of 'The Queen was in

the parlour' measure:

Drink full ones tinker | methinks the monks are dry;

though the lines, as they always do in such cases,

occasionally simulate regular decasyllables.]

[Line: 4047 fop] Same as 'fob' = 'put off with a false or

trumped-up excuse'.]

[Line: 4054 Angel] The old pun on the coin.]

[Line: 4060 raddle-man] A hawker of coarse red paint.]

[Line: 4067 'podging', though it has various more definite

senses, appears to be still dialectically used for 'stupid'.]

[Line: 4102 I do not find any of the recognized senses of

'swig' (orig. 'swigge') that fits this very well as = 'a fig',

or something coarser. But it may well be coined.]

[Line: 4122 If anybody asks where Starley is it will be

sufficient to answer that it is where the Danes used cannons.

But 'act their juries' (if right) is one of those at first

sight mad phrases of our author's which really have, if little

method, some meaning.]

[Line: 4152 glide] Plural by the common attraction to

'channels'.]

[Line: 4177 'air' (orig. 'ayre') is, I suppose, as before =

'breath' = 'words'.]

[Line: 4188 Albino's remarkably catholic conglomeration of

classical and Christian wedding-rites might, in a more modern

writer, be a satire on Renaissance habits. In him it is only a

survival of them.]

[Lines: 4230-6 In this stanza Whiting gives a final flourish

of his wondrous diction. I feel sure he must have leant back

in his chair and looked lovingly at

Hack on the quiet shore their brackèd sheaths,

and I should not presume to be too certain as to the exact

meaning of 'half-wrack'd with eye-men', though I think I know.

The insouciance with which he shuffles off the not impertinent

question 'How did a somewhat "arbitrary gent" like Don

Rivelezzo take this sort of thing?' is also rather charming.]

* * * * *

TO THOSE WORTHY HEROES OF OUR

Age, whose noble Breasts are wet

and wat'red with the dew of

Helicon, N.W. wisheth ever-

flourishing Laurels.

You noble laureates, whose able quills

In framing odes, do drean the sacred rills

Of Aganippe dry, within whose breasts

The sire of Æsculapius safely rests;

And all the Muses' temple, deign your rays

To cheer the measures of an infant bayes,

Spread forth the banners of your worths to shield

His younger Muse, unable yet to wield

Arms 'gainst the monsters of this critic age,

Envy, detraction, and Saturnine rage. 10

I to myself assume not double worth,

Or that my teeming fancy can bring forth

Words to make wonder stand amazed, do try

To vindicate the breath of poesy.

In such a thought I'm silent, but because

I've heard invectives belched from the jaws

Of _nil-scientes_, whose audacious brags

Have raised a thunder like a shoal of dags

T' affright endeavours.

In writing, which if my weak studies hit 20

Of any fancy speaking worth or wit,

If I have snatchèd any fainting Muse

From the black jaws of envy and abuse,

Shooting a soul into her, and new breath,

Maugre those tongues that doomèd her to death--

Echo forth thanks unto coy Daphne's lover

(About whose fane the sacred Nine do hover)

Whose kindness smiled on my uncrushed designs;

And locked a muse in my unworthy lines,

Able to blunt the darts of envy, pare 30

The sharpest-hoofèd satyr, and with air

Shrill as the voice of thunder, chide those galls

That belch forth scandals and invective bawls.

Nay, he, befriending me above my merit,

Unseen of any heaved my wingèd spirit

T' a higher court than the Star chamber is,

Where souls may surfeit with immortal bliss;

And taught my fancy, in those quiet slumbers,

What, waking, I have folded up in numbers;

To tell the brood of critics that there are 40

Some few, or if not some, yet one, that dare

(Backèd by your thrice-sacred worths) expose

These lines and letters to the ken of prose.

_The humble admirer

of your muses_ N.W.

[_To those Worthy_ 2 drean] _v. sup._, l. 3363.]

[Line: 6 'an infant bayes' is rather curious. But cf.

'youthful bays', l. 122 _infra._]

_Il Insonio Insonnadado._

When (in the silent age of sable night)

The silver way with Phoebe's glimm'ring light

And her attendants was adorned, and when

Fast slumbers scaled the eyes of drowsy men,

I ent'red Morpheus' Court, that iv'ry port

Whereat benighted fancies pass that sort

With real good, Sleep was the janitor

Who let me in, without one crumb of ore,

Into the spacious hall, whose darksome floor

With downy beds and quilts was pavèd o'er, 10

Instead of marble stones. Here nuzzled both

The hated spawn of idleness and sloth,

_Icilone_ and _Phantaso_, the one

Wrapt in a mantle, set with stars and stones,

Chequered with flow'rs, and trimmed with antic shapes,

Playing with children, feathers, flies, and apes,

Blowing up spittle bladders, and the other

Stretched on the bosom of his quiet mother,

Folded in furs and feathers, would not stir

To earn a penny, or to 'please you, sir,' 20

With cap and curtsey. Wond'ring much, to me

The wingèd post came with an embassy.

I, frighted with his strange apparel, shrunk

Away, and closely into feathers sunk.

He, smiling, said, 'Let not my strange arraying,

Kind youth, beget amazement or dismaying.

I'll show thee where in marshalled order stray

Whole troops of laureates ensphered with bay';

Then spread his wingèd sails, and caught my hair,

Without a sense of motion through the air 30

Conducting me, through where the salamander

(If faith b' historical) does breath and wander.

Then through those glorious orbs, enriched with gems,

The palaces of seven diadems.

Then through the firmament where glitt'ring spangs

Like blazing topazes in crystal hangs.

Three storeys higher was the Galupin

Where Jove was frolic with his goddy kin;

Hither was I uplifted, then mine eye

Besprinkled was by nimble Mercury 40

With liquor which with strength did me endue

T' abide the presence of th' immortal crew.

The whisp'ring vaults I openèd of my brain,

The counsels of the gods to entertain,

And, fearing memory, with short-lived chalk

(Wanting the tongue of paper) writ their talk.

The patron of Parnassus and the Nine,

To Jove presented and the rest divine

Their suits, with comely grace and majesty.

But Phoebus was the orator: 'Lo! I 50

Thy daughters undertook to patronize,

Great Emperor of the crystal-spangled skies!

And shield their measures from the sullen rage

Of envious ignorance, this critic age.

(For none inveigh against poetic measures

But those that never had Pandora's treasures)

Yet such a shoal of ignorants I find,

'Tis thought the greater part o' th' world is blind;

That, maugre all my scourges, in the dark

Against the Muses they will snarl and bark. 60

Let wingèd-sandalled Hermes post to call

And summon them unto thy judgement hall,

That you may know their rage is want of brains.'

Hermes took post, and brought the silly trains.

Jove waved his sceptre and commanded hush.

Then calls a gaudy piece of empty plush,

And asked what he could say 'gainst Poetry:

'Ha! ha!' quoth he, and fleered with blinking eye,

'I have a mistress' (then begins a tale

Which made Jove call for some nectarean ale 70

To arm his ears 'gainst nonsense, and his side

'Gainst laughter's fury) 'has too much of pride.

She's fair as is a wall new-parged with lime,

She's wise enough; for age, she's in her prime.

I vow her service, but she slights me, why?

Marry, I have no vein in Poesy,

But what I take on trust o' th' second hand.

She jeers and says, "This cannot well be scanned;

This has a foot too little, that too much;

This is a borrowed line"--"she knows 't by th' touch; 80

Tells me the double Indies shall not gain

Her love without the smirk poetic vein.

Despairing, I against the Muses rail,

And wished my hands had crusted been with flail.

Then should not I have needed proxy-verse,

T' have won a milkmaid, neither coy nor terse.

"Tush," say I, "Madam, this same ragged crew

Of rhyming dizzards are not worthy you.

Plato exiled them from his commonweal.

Their tongues will flatter, and their fingers steal. 90

Mere sycophants that, for a trencher-bit,

Will swear y' have beauty mixed with purest wit.

And if you anger them, will in a rage

Unsay 't and rail 'gainst you, your sex, and age."

Hundred invectives more I often use

Against the Poet and his strumpet muse.

But I protest 'tis to dissuade my lady:

For had I wit, Phoebus should be my daddy.

Then, sacred sisters! I implore your bays

Make me a bard, and I'll descant your praise.' 100

'No,' quoth the Muses, 'Helicon ne'er brooks

T' have servants which do wear such simple looks.'

So sent him packing with a flea in 's ear.

Apollo called another to appear,

A feeble brain, that at a gen'ral dye

Had got the sable hue of infamy.

He buzzles like a bustard in a wind,

And with his _aio_'s strikes the vulgar blind,

In whom, if we believe Pythagoras,

I think the soul of Battus housèd was. 110

He is demanded why he thus does bawl

'Gainst soaring wits, not worms that earthly crawl?

Clothing his face with impudence, his looks

With pride, and with high self-conceit (his books,

So are his words, he speaks in print) 'Why? why?

Have I not cause t' exclaim on Poesy?

I'm a divine, not a fond prattling poet.

I am a preacher, I would have you know it.'

'Peace! arrogant,' says Hermes, 'else I'll drive

Thee quick into the black infernal hive. 120

There was a time when thou admir'dst with praise

Each sprig of laurel, slip of youthful bays.

But Envy's master now: or th' cause of it

Is, thou ne'er hop'st t' attain that height of wit.

But say the truth (yet truth will scarce abide thee)

Are there not some that jeer and do deride thee

In lofty measures, and thou wanting skill

To vindicate thy credit by thy quill?

Dost scold?' Quoth he, 'I do acknowledge it.

I blamed the Muses, 'cause I wanted wit; 130

And darted scandals at Apollo's lyre.

Yet pardon, mighty Æsculapius' sire,

And ye blest goddesses, my grand offence,

And on your altars I'll burn frankincense,

Nay, build rich trophies unto Poetry.'

''Tis good to see a convert mind: stand by.'

Apollo said. Says Vulcan, 'By the mass,

I have espied a plump-cheek'd bonny lass.

She is a wrig, I warrant. Where's my wife?

Oh! 'tis a hell to live a coupled life.' 140

Thus did the Blacksmith mutter, till Apollo

Cited the damsel with a gentle holloa.

Up comes the Marget with a mincing pace,

A city-stride, court-garb, and smirking face,

So curtsied to the gods, yet 'twas but short.

Then says Apollo (meaning to make sport)

'What occupation use you, art, or trade?

Are you a virgin?' 'Yes, a chambermaid

Forsooth I am, I have my virgin seal.

To honest Vulcan I dare make m'appeal: 150

He'll pawn his head, had I kept Venus' room,

Mars had not dubbed him with Actaeon's doom.'

'A merry wench, in faith!' says Jove, 'yet stay.

To serious parle let's fall from wanton play.

You are accused as one that does condemn

And boldly scoff the laurel diadem.'

'I once', quoth she, 'admired them all, until

I found my praise returned but traffic ill.

for when I praised, they praisèd me again:

So I had only praises for my pain. 160

Then wittily I oftentimes would flout,

And say, the poets' was a needy rout;

Of all professions sure it was the worst,

Just like the cockatrice i' th' shell accurst,

With many more; yet though our tongues did jar,

Our quarrel ended in a lippy war.

We kissed to friendship, like the nurse and child,'

And there she stopped, whereat the heavens smiled.

Then came a servingman, a blunt old knave,

That dared Parnassus with a saucy brave. 170

'In youth,' says he, 'I rhymed and framèd notes

To Pan's choice music and the shepherds' throats:

And many a lusty bowl of cream have got

For Kate's three brace of rhymes, which was, God wot,

But once removed from prose, and, for a song,

The iron-hoofèd Hobs 'bout me did throng.

But now old age my wit and fancy nips,

I gall the Muses with satyric quips;

Yet might I with the eagle cast my bill,

And gain my youth, I would regain my skill.' 180

This done, the pursuivant Apollo posts

T' Elysium, to call the poets' ghosts,

That paid th' infernal ferryman his fee.

There saw I Homer, but he saw not me;

Lascivious Ovid, and Virgilius grave,

Satyric Juvenal, and Martial brave,

Splay-footed Plautus, limping Ennius,

Propertius, Horace, and Boethius.

Amongst the moderns came the Fairy Queen,

Old Geoffrey, Sidney, Drayton, Randolph, Greene, 190

The double Beaumont, [ ] Drummond, Browne--

Each had his chaplet, and his ivy crown.

'How rested ye amidst those gloomy shades?'

Says Jupiter, 'See ye not other trades,

Learnings, and sciences, have constant springs,

Summers and autumns without winterings?

They'll have no hailstorms, fleezy rain, nor frost,

A pregnant-witted bard did silence break.

Homer 'twas not, he could not see to speak. 200

Virgil it was not, he had got a wrench:

Nor B. nor M., for they had got a wench.

Ennius was lame, and much did fear his shins;

Horace was busy with the kilderkins,

Ovid employed with his belovèd flea,

Old Geoffrey's language was not fit for plea.

Drayton on 's brains a new Moon-calf was getting,

And testy Drummond could not speak for fretting.

I knew the Roscian's feature, not his name;

Yet 'tis engraven on the shawm of Fame. 210

With settled grace he boldly did advance:

'Father of gods! King of the large expanse!

We oft have heard proud Envy belching forth

Fogs, mists, and fumes, t' eclipse the metric worth,

And know the teeming world did never nurse

So great a mischief as the critic curse.

Our souls one minute have not rested quiet

Since carps, we know, was _Ignoramus_' diet.

If Wisdom's fetial call to the sand

We have revenge; our standish is at hand, 220

That rights our wrongs: but 'gainst Don Silly's rails

The fist is heaved, for paper naught avails.

We sate in counsel, did intend to sue

With a petition to this noble crew;

The substance this, that ye would either give

Wit and discretion unto all that live,

Or make them idiots, deprived of reason.

Else, but to speak, let it be counted treason.

But we appeal, great gods, 'tis now my theme--

To clear from mud pure Aganippa's stream, 230

Assist, Pierides, maintain your fires

With greater care than can the Vestals theirs;

'Tis merely loss of time, and paper both

By refutation to chastise their sloth.

Then I the juice of Helicon will sup

Not in nutshell, but Colocassian cup,

Shall make my fancy catch at naught but gems,

And wreathe the Muses' brows with diadems.

Methinks this draught such virtue does infuse

As if in every sense there dwelt a muse, 240

A spirit of valour to ungod great war,

Should he but send a ram, but to the bar;

Who knows not Vaticinium does imply

In equal measures verse and prophecy,

An inspiration, a celestial touch?

Such is the poet's raptures, prophet's such.

_Vates_, a bard, and him that does presage;

_Vaticinor_, possessed with either rage.

_Poema_ is a book, in numbers framed,

Fast cémented with sense, by working named, 250

To which the choicest orator stands bare.

_Poesis_ does, in a sublimer air,

Things human and divine expose to view.

The first philosophy that Fame e'er knew

Was honoured with the name of Poetry,

Enriched with rules of pure morality,

Reading instructions unto heathen men.

With more contentment than the Stoic's pen.

The ancients unto poets only gave

The epithets of wise, divine, and grave; 260

Because their metres taught the world to know

To whom they did their holy worship owe.

The Greek is free, and kinder in her praise

Which she bestows upon poetic lays.

She calls all that which takes not essence by

A matter pre-existent, poesy.

So makes the world a poem: and by this

The great creator a great poet is.

Nay more, that language on the Nine bestows

(As ev'ry callent of that idiom knows) 270

In her etymologues, an higher grace,

Calls them [Greek: paideutas], and whose measures trace

The steps of Nature, human and divine,

The abstruse mysteries of both untwine,

Unlock the _exta_ of each science, art,

By cunning search; again, not as a part,

Nor a grand column only, but entreasures

The soul of learning in the poet's measures.

All other arts (which use and learning gave)

Precepts and rules as sure foundations have, 280

Whenas the poet's pen alone 's inspired,

With high enthusiasms by heaven fired,

Ennius them holy calls; and Plato says

Furies divine are in the poet's lays.

Nor wanted he himself the poet's wit;

He _Dithyrambos_ and love passions writ.

The Regal Prophet was a true-born poet,

As to the life his well-tuned metres show it;

Composed to music by that holy man,

Ere Hopkins and Sternhold knew how to scan. 290

Hence, chicken-augurs, with your crooked staves,

Whose rash conjectures crown and dig us graves.

A lofty fancy, steepèd in the fount

Of Pegasus, an higher pitch can mount.

Sibylline oracles did speak in verse;

Their scattered leaves in measures did rehearse

The mysteries of man's redemption by

The incarnation of a deity.

Grave Maro, I remember, in an ode

(An eclogue) treads the same prophetic road. 300

Those famous _Druides_, renowned of late,

Treated at large o' th' soul's immortal state.

Man's spirit does not to the gloomy shade

Of _Erebus_, o'er black _Cocytus_, wade.

Death sets no period, is the lesser part

Of human life; for the same breath does dart

Vigour to every sinew in the bulk.

Man lives as freely in another hulk.

Who readeth Ovid's Metamorphosin,

And thinks not Moses' soul was sheathèd in 310

His body by a transmigration?

He from the chaos tells the world's plantation.

Maro accords, and gives the world a soul

Which does this well-compacted lump control;

And by illumination he discovered

How then the spirit o'er the water hovered.

Th' inspirèd pen of old Pythagoras

By _Naso's_ guide relates how in this mass

All things do alter shape, yet soon Dame Nature

Of one form lost informs another feature. 320

No substance 's nothingèd in this large globe,

But 'gainst some feast puts on a newer robe.

The earth, resolved to water, rarefies

Into pure air; the thinner water flies;

The purer air assumes a scorching heat.

They, back returning, orderly retreat:

Those subtle sparks converted are to breath,

The spissy air, being doomed unto death,

Turns into sea, earth's made a thick'ned water.

Thus wily Nature is a strange translator. 330

(My lady readers I refer to Sandys,

But the grave learnèd unto Ovid's hands.)

Nor Seneca divine wants prophesies.

Near to the death of time, an age shall rise

In which says he, the ocean shall untie

The wat'ry bands of things and to the eye

Of Tiphys, a new world appear

Unheard before by the most itching ear,

In glory matching this. Then Thule no more

Shall be th' earth's _ne plus ultra_ bound or door, 340

Our eights i' th' hundred would large heaps of treasures

Set in their wills to buy Zorastus' measures.

Mass-priests for dirges then would lose their fee;

These would the surest _de profundis_ be.

Shopsters and gallants to his house would hop

More than t' exchanges or canary-shop.

And poets brisk would have a larger dealth,

Than holy confessors of dead men's wealth.

I might be infinite, should I but show

For what grave arts the world to poets owe. 350

Apelles had not been without Parnasse,

The pencil's worth had only dwelt on glass,

Or dusty tablets, guided by those apes,

In imitation of some antic shapes.

Venus a portrait had, Pygmalion missed

That speechless female which he hugged and kissed.

Had not th' enlivening breath of poetry

T' a higher pitch reared up dull fantasy.

How quickly worthy acts of famous men

Died in the wane of our poetic pen! 360

How rudely by the monks (which only had

The key of learning) were their actions clad!

King Ethelbert's closed in his Polyander,

To Christ for church buildings he's gone without meander.

Such stuff the tombs of Bede and Petrarch have,

The razor from all monky pates did shave

Wit with their hair, except in Mantuan.

Re-teined by Vida and Politian,

And many others was this glorious sun,

Which glitter shall till earth's last thread be spun. 370

We raise shall obelisks by Apollo's breath,

Which owe no homage to the rage of death.

By pen Honterus creatures limned to life,

Better than could the cynic with his knife.

Pliny comparèd unto him did err;

He was a chemic and cosmographer.

How bravely does the Scottish bard depinge

The planets' order and the spheric hinge!

Brave Petrarch, latined by our learned clerk,

Lights us a lamp to guide us in this dark. 380

And critic age says that stout Alexander,

(Whose warlike steps o'er all this globe did wander)

Fixing on brave Pelides' tomb his eye,

Rapt with a noble envy loud did cry,

'Happy, O happy thou! whole actions still

Live, being enbreathed by the immortal quill

Of worthy Homer!' nay, when his sword had gained

Those wealthy realms o'er which Darius reigned,

He 'mongst his treasures found a casket fair,

So set with gold and gems it rayed the air, 390

And called in day despite of clouds or nights--

Yet the best use (as grave Patricius writes)

This cabinet could serve to, was t' entomb

Homer's choice Iliads in his glorious womb.

Of Zoarastus now some wonders hear,

And barrel his disciples in thine ear,

Whose rhymes could charm foul Cerber's bawling tongue,

And pick hell's lock with his enchanting song;

From Stygian shade conducting whom they listed,

And whom they pleased with hellish fogs bemisted. 400

Oh golden metres, rhymes outworthing gold,

At what high prices would they now be sold

If they were extant! friend for friend would sell

Lordships, books, banners, to redeem from hell.

How many ages has those Greeks survived

(Than all their predecessors longer lived),

Which showed their noble worths at Ilium's grave?

Yet thrice Nestorean age them Homer gave.

How bravely Lucan tells succeeding ages

The seven-hillèd city's bloody rages! 410

Moist clouds long since have washed the purpled grass,

Yet red as ever 'tis in Lucan's glass.

To Carthage' Queen the wand'ring Trojan prince

Pretended love, but dead it is long since,

And dust are they; yet Virgil's lofty verse

Makes him speak wars, she love, from under th' hearse.

Long since did Hellespont gulp in Leander,

When he presumed on naked breast to wander.

Hero's watch-candle's out; they vanished quite.

Yet Ovid says all was but yesternight. 420

A great while since the cheating miller stole

The scholars' meal by a quadruple toll:

They gave him th' hornbook, taught his daughter Greek,

Yet look in Chaucer--done the other week.

Ir'n-sinewed Talus with his steely flail

Long since i' th' right of justice did prevail

Under the sceptre of the Fairy Queen:

Yet Spenser's lofty measures makes it green.

Donne was a poet and a grave divine,

Highly esteemèd for the sacred Nine 430

That aftertimes shall say whilst there's a sun

'This verse, this sermon, was composed by Dun'.

What by heroic acts to man accrues,

When grisly Charon for his waftage sues,

If his great grandchild, and his grandchild's son,

May not the honours, which his sword hath won,

Read, graved on paper by a poet's pen,

When marble monuments are dust, and when

Time has eat off his paint and lettered gold;

For verse alone keeps honour out o' th' mould? 440

The press successively gives birth to verse,

Shall steely tombs outlive the buckram hearse?

To other things the same proportion hold

Pure rhymes which lofty volumes do enfold.

Autumnal frosts would nip the double rose,

If cherish'd only by the breath of prose.

Beauty of beauty's not the smallest part

Which is bestowèd by our liberal art.

Orpheus, Arion, and the scraping crew,

To wire and parchèd guts may bid adieu, 450

Or audience beg; were 't not for sprightful bays,

Which to the strings composeth merry lays.

But with the Muses I'm so fall'n in love

That I forget thy presence, mighty Jove!

And through the spacious universe do walk:

But this shall set a period to my talk.'

Jove stretch'd his sceptre then, with frolic grace,

And joy triumphèd on the heaven's face.

The orbs made music, and the planets danced:

The Muses' glory was by all enhanced. 460

Jove then intended for to ratify

Decrees in the behoof of poesy,

Giving the bards his hand to kiss; and made

Chaplets of laurel which should never fade.

But Vulcan, to Gradive placed in oppose,

Was nodding fast and bellowing through the nose.

His armèd brow fell down; and lighting right

His antlers did the marching god unsight.

Mars fumed, the gods laughed out, the spheres did shake,

At which shrill noise I starting did awake, 470

And looking up (East having oped his doors)

Amazèd I beheld a troop of scores,

And wond'ring, thought they'd been ale-debts, but found

I them had chalkèd in my dreaming swound.

I trow not the decree: 'twas Vulcan's fault--

Yet dreams are seldom sound, like him they halt.

Take this: and, if I can so happy be,

I'll write, in my next slumbers, the decree.

[Line: _Il Insonio Insonnadado_] 13 The names taken from the

well-known passage of Ovid, _Met._ xi. 640 seq.]

[Line: 37 Galupin?]

[Line: 38 goddy kin. Read perhaps 'goddykin', on the analogy

of 'mannikin', and interpret of Ganymede. On the other hand

Whiting affects there adjectives in -_y_: see the examples

quoted, _Albino_, l. 808, where 'goddy' actually occurs.]

[Line: 76 Orig. 'da_v_e'. 'Have' seems more likely, but

therefore perhaps less Whitingish, than 'dare'.]

[Line: 86 terse] 'polished'. Cf. _Albino_, 3329.]

[Line: 88 Orig. 'rithming'. This generally = 'rhyming' but may

= 'rhythming'.]

[Line: 108 _aio_'s] = Latin 'I say it'. For similar plurals,

cf. _conclusum_'s in _Albino_, 1334, and _fortasse_'s, 2488.]

[Line: 191 double Beaumont] Francis and Sir John. The mention

of Drummond is interesting, for I do not remember many.]

[Line: 198 I do not remember many 'plays' on that consonance

of 'rime' and 'rhyme' which is a main argument for not

confusing the spelling. In previous line orig. 'fleezie'.]

[Line: 202 I suppose 'M.' is Martial: which of the B.'s (it is

surely not Boethius?) the other letter libels I know not.]

[Line: 205 Ovid] The allusion is to the spurious _De Pulice_

printed in the early editions of Ovid.]

[Line: 209 If people read Whiting I suppose somebody would say

that this 'Roscian' must be Shakespeare.]

[Line: 218 Ruggles's almost famous play had been written a

quarter of a century and performed before the King more than

twenty years earlier, but it had only been printed in 1630.]

[Line: 219 'fetial' (orig. 'fæcial') = the

priest-herald-ambassador who delivered the ultimatum of war or

proclaimed peace. 'Sand' = arena.]

[Line: 236 Colocassian] = made of the great leaves of the

Egyptian water-lily.]

[Line: 249 Here we get into the old critical commonplaces of

the Italians as to Poema, Poesis, &c.]

[Line: 270 callent] = 'knower'. Whether Whitings invention I

know not: he might in the context have been directly thinking

of Pliny's 'vaticinandi callentes'.]

[Line: 275 exta = 'entrails', not merely as 'inwards'

'secrets', but as possessing indications for haruspices.]

[Line: 290 Hopkins and Sternhold: cf. _sup._, King, p. 228.]

[Line: 331 Orig. has simply 'sands' (the proper pronunciation)

with a small _s_. Sandys's _Ovid_ was extremely popular.]

[Line: 337 Orig. 'Typhis'. Tethys? as in the passage of

Seneca's _Medea_, to which Whiting refers ('Tethys novos

deteget orbes'). But Tiphys, the helmsman of the Argonauts, and

watcher of the seas, may be meant: cf. the prominence given to

him in Virgil's 4th Eclogue, 'Alter erit tum Tiphys'.]

[Line: 342 Zorastus] Spelt '_Zoarastus_' in l. 395. The

reference is to the reputed oracles of Zoroaster, printed

in _Magia Philosophica, hoc est Francisci Patricii Summi

Philosophi Zoroaster & eius 320 Oracula Chaldaica_, Hamburg,

1593. Patrizzi, whose _Della Poetica_ (Ferrara, 1586) ranks

high in Renaissance criticism, is named at l. 392.]

[Line: 363 Polyander]?]

[Line: 364 Whether this overflowing line is a flirt of

Whiting's heels or a slip of pen or press may be doubtful.]

[Line: 368 Re-teined. Cf. the dedication to _Albino_, l. 6.]

[Line: 373 Honterus] Author of _Cosmographiae Rudimenta_,

1534, several revisions or re-issues of which appeared in the

sixteenth century.]

[Lines: 373-393 These lines are full of allusions which I

cannot exactly interpret. In fact the whole poem, evidently

suggested in style by Marston, Tourneur, and others, is a sort

of mystification.]

[Line: 432 Orig. 'Dun'. One of the commonest spellings, and

apparently the usual pronunciation.]

_FINIS._

Gentle Reader, beare with some faults, which through the obscuritie

of the copie, and the absence of the Authour have escaped; as page 3.

line 24. for veyne read reyne. p. 3. l. 6. for enjoyed read enjayld.

p. 6. l. 10. for tener read knee. p. 12. l. 24 for Satamit read

Catamite. Two staves there are misplaced, to the reforming whereof

the sence will direct thee: what other errours thou findest, let thy

pen amend, excusing the presse, and un-staining the Author.

[These corrections have been made in the text.]

[Footnote: _Errata notes_] The sublime coolness of this has

been noted. The poet or his reader, less conscientious than

the present editor, decided at p. 12 that it was not _tanti_.

As a matter of fact 'Satamit' was already corrected in the

copy used.]

ERRATA. VOL. II

Page 237. _Psalm 141._ l. 22 _for_ severed _read_ severe

l. 23 _for_ not _read_ no

l. 31 _for_ arresse _read_ accesse

Page 238. _Chorus._ l. 42 _for_ When _read_ Whom

_Constancy._ l. 21 _for_ rain _read_ ruin

Page 239. (first) _Song._ l. 14 _for_ blow _read_ blew

l. 27 _for_ you _read_ your

(second) _Song._ l. 26 _for_ soon _read_ seen

l. 30 _for_ those _read_ these

Page 240. _Lines._ l. 7 _for_ needs _read_ weeds

l. 22 _for_ instant _read_ distant

l. 6 _for_ field _read_ fields

Page 241. _Psalm 137._ l. 8 _for_ captive _read_ captived

Page 242. _Ballet._ l. 29 _for_ eye _read_ eyes

l. 41 _for_ Those moods _read_

These woods

l. 63 _for_ wood _read_ woods

Page 243. _Song._ l. 14 _for_ then _read_ there

_Epistle._ l. 39 _for_ life _read_ less

Page 245. _Quatrains_[2]. l. 4 _for_ side _read_ Tide

l. 9 _for_ flee; _MS._ fly

Page 246. _Epistle._ l. 30 _for_ captur'd _read_ captiv'd

Page 247. _Hymn._ l. 10 _for_ Life _read_ less

_Farewell._ l. 27 _for_ Disraye _read_ Disease

Page 248. _Sir F. Carew._ l. 8 _for_ fought _read_ sought

Page 260. l. 34 _for_ soon _read_ seen

Page 261. _Sonnet._ l. 5 _for_ sure _read_ free

l. 11 _for_ pride _read_ prize

l. 25 _for_ grate _read_ grace

l. 27 _for_ fate _read_ face

_Madam, 'tis true_ is printed in Jonson's _Underwoods_ (1640, p. 247),

where it opens _Fair Friend, 'tis true_, and follows _A New-Year's

Gift sung to King Charles, 1635_. Godolphin's Commendatory Poem to

Sandys's _Paraphrase of the Divine Poems_, 1648, was accidentally

omitted from this collection: but as it is easily accessible, it has

not been thought necessary to reprint it among these _Errata_.

VOL. III

Page 431, note, l. 6 from bottom, _for_ 'hateful' _read_ 'grateful'.

Printed in England at the Oxford University Press

* * * * *

Transcriber's Note

Tables of Contents have been added to two of the books, where they

were only present in the initial List of Contents.

In the original, the Commendatory Poems were printed in two columns,

and the line numbers were placed convenient to the length of line,

occasionally 29, 41, etc. Since all the poems are now in single column

format, the line numbers in the Commendatory Poems have been restored

to the usual 30, 40, etc.

At the time of the Caroline Period, England still followed the Julian

calendar (after Julius Caesar, 44 B.C.), and celebrated New Year's Day

on March 25th (Annunciation Day). Most Catholic countries accepted the

Gregorian calendar (after Pope Gregory XIII) from some time after 1582

(the Catholic countries of France, Spain, Portugal, and Italy in 1582,

Belgium, the Netherlands, and Switzerland within a year or two,

Hungary in 1587, and Scotland in 1600), and celebrated New Year's Day

on January 1st. England finally changed to the Gregorian calendar in

1752.

This is the reason for the double dates in the early months of the

years in some of the Notes. There is a reference on page 415 to 28th

December, 1682, followed by a reference to January 28th, 1682/3. (1682

in England; 1683 in Scotland). Only after March 25th (Julian New Years

Day) was the year the same in the two countries. The Julian calendar

was known as 'Old Style', and the Gregorian calendar as 'New Style'

(N.S.).

= = indicated bold text; _ _ indicates italic text;

+ + indicates spaced text; ^{} indicates a superscript.

Errata (only obvious Printers' Errors have been corrected):

Page 68: [Footnote: 'fellnw' corrected to (2nd) 'fellow'.

"... this on Strafford's fellow worker and fellow victim...."

Page 76: [Line: 20 'publisbed' corrected to 'published'.

"whose minutes have been published in modern times".

Page 109: 'topô' should be 'typô'. May be a printer's error, or

Saintsbury's or Stanley's original: retained.

"Pantachothen en heni topô poll' eidê pherôn,"

Page 226: [Line: 64 'Witb]' corrected to 'With'

Page 256: [Sidenote: 'flunnt' corrected to 'fluunt'.

"--_Sparguntur in omnes, In te mista fluunt_--Claudian."

Page 259, Sidenote: _Ganguin_. l. 6.]

The historian's name is usually given as Gaguin nowadays, but

formerly Guaguin was usual.

Page 301: 'freind' (sic) has been retained. There were no enforced

spelling 'rules' at this time.

"Entered in the Stationers' Register on December 17, 1673, as

'A poem or copy intituled the Review, To the Reverend my honored

freind Dr. Wm. Sancroft, Deane of St. Paules, A Pindarique Ode'."

Page 361: Stanza number I. missing. Added for consistency.

Page 384: Missing Stanza number 'II'. Present in the Latin version.

Page 431: 'hateful' corrected to 'grateful' as per the errata on

page 562.

"[Line: 7 That 'bitter' would be grateful to others besides

unicorns after a surfeit of liquorice may be easily admitted."

Page 433: 'tbee' corrected to 'thee'.

"Smile at thee, on thee, like thee new,"

Page 497: Possible Printer's error, mentioned, but not corrected,

by Saintsbury:

"The shrivers to their lords return with smiles,

And on their looks a joy ovall chhriots had,"

could be:

"The shrivers to their lords return with smiles,

And on their looks a joviall charact' had,"

(See Note, Line 2453).

Page 528: 'contiued' corrected to 'continued'.

"The spiders here had one continued loom:"

Page 539 (Note): 'tbe' corrected to 'the'; 'balf; corrected to

'half'.

"and I should not presume to be too certain as to the exact

meaning of 'half-wrack'd with eye-men',"