with the burden, _Then she sang Downe a _Reliques of Ancient English Poetry, Volume 2 (of 3) Consisting of Old Heroic Ballads, Songs and Other Pieces of Our Earlier Poets Together With Some Few of Later Date

It is from _Deuteromelia, or the second part of Musicks melodie

or melodious Musicke_, London, 1609. Others are in _Pills to

purge Melancholy_ (iii. 1707, or v. 1719), and in _A Complete

Collection of old and new English and Scotch Songs_, 8vo., 1735.

The copy in the Roxburghe collection is entitled _The Politick

Maid_, beginning "There was a knight was wine dronke." Ritson says,

"Bp. Percy found the subject worthy of his best improvements."]

* * * * *

There was a knight was drunk with wine,

A riding along the way, sir;

And there he met with a lady fine,

Among the cocks of hay, sir.

Shall you and I, O lady faire, 5

Among the grass lye down-a:

And I will have a special care

Of rumpling of your gowne-a.

Upon the grass there is a dewe,

Will spoil my damask gowne, sir: 10

My gowne, and kirtle they are newe,

And cost me many a crowne, sir.

I have a cloak of scarlet red,

Upon the ground I'll throwe it;

Then, lady faire, come lay thy head; 15

We'll play, and none shall knowe it.

O yonder stands my steed so free

Among the cocks of hay, sir;

And if the pinner[844] should chance to see,

He'll take my steed away, sir. 20

Upon my finger I have a ring,

Is made of finest gold-a;

And, lady, it thy steed shall bring

Out of the pinner's fold-a.

O go with me to my father's hall; 25

Fair chambers there are three, sir:

And you shall have the best of all,

And I'll your chamberlaine bee, sir.

He mounted himself on his steed so tall,

And her on her dapple gray, sir: 30

And there they rode to her father's hall,

Fast pricking along the way, sir.

To her father's hall they arrived strait;

'Twas moated round about-a;

She slipped herself within the gate, 35

And lockt the knight without-a.

Here is a silver penny to spend,

And take it for your pain, sir;

And two of my father's men I'll send

To wait on you back again, sir. 40

He from his scabbard drew his brand,

And wiped it upon his sleeve-a:

And cursed, he said, be every man,

That will a maid believe-a!

She drew a bodkin from her haire, 45

And whip'd it upon her gown-a;

And curs'd be every maiden faire,

That will with men lye down-a!

A herb there is, that lowly grows,

And some do call it rue, sir: 50

The smallest dunghill cock that crows,

Would make a capon of you, sir.

A flower there is, that shineth bright,

Some call it mary gold-a;

He that wold not when he might, 55

He shall not when he wold-a.

The knight was riding another day,

With cloak and hat and feather:

He met again with that lady gay,

Who was angling in the river. 60

Now, lady faire, I've met with you,

You shall no more escape me;

Remember, how not long agoe

You falsely did intrap me.

The lady blushed scarlet red, 65

And trembled at the stranger:

How shall I guard my maidenhead

From this approaching danger?

He from his saddle down did light,

In all his riche attyer; 70

And cryed, As I am a noble knight,

I do thy charms admyer.

He took the lady by the hand,

Who seemingly consented;

And would no more disputing stand: 75

She had a plot invented.

Looke yonder, good sir knight, I pray,

Methinks I now discover

A riding upon his dapple gray,

My former constant lover. 80

On tip-toe peering stood the knight,

Fast by the rivers brink-a;

The lady pusht with all her might:

Sir knight, now swim or sink-a.

O'er head and ears he plunged in, 85

The bottom faire he sounded;

Then rising up, he cried amain,

Help, helpe, or else I'm drownded!

Now, fare-you-well, sir knight, adieu!

You see what comes of fooling: 90

That is the fittest place for you;

Your courage wanted cooling.

Ere many days, in her fathers park,

Just at the close of eve-a,

Again she met with her angry sparke; 95

Which made this lady grieve-a.

False lady, here thou'rt in my powre,

And no one now can hear thee:

And thou shalt sorely rue the hour,

That e'er thou dar'dst to jeer me. 100

I pray, sir knight, be not so warm

With a young silly maid-a:

I vow and swear I thought no harm,

'Twas a gentle jest I playd-a.

A gentle jest, in soothe! he cry'd, 105

To tumble me in and leave me:

What if I had in the river dy'd?----

That fetch will not deceive me.

Once more I'll pardon thee this day,

Tho' injur'd out of measure; 110

But then prepare without delay

To yield thee to my pleasure.

Well then, if I must grant your suit,

Yet think of your boots and spurs, sir

Let me pull off both spur and boot, 115

Or else you cannot stir, sir.

He set him down upon the grass,

And begg'd her kind assistance:

Now, smiling thought this lovely lass,

I'll make you keep your distance. 120

Then pulling off his boots half-way;

Sir knight, now I'm your betters:

You shall not make of me your prey;

Sit there like a knave in fetters.

The knight when she had served soe, 125

He fretted, fum'd, and grumbled:

For he could neither stand nor goe,

But like a cripple tumbled.

Farewell, sir knight, the clock strikes ten,

Yet do not move nor stir, sir: 130

I'll send you my father's serving men,

To pull off your boots and spurs, sir.

This merry jest you must excuse,

You are but a stingless nettle:

You'd never have stood for boots or shoes, 135

Had you been a man of mettle.

All night in grievous rage he lay,

Rolling upon the plain-a;

Next morning a shepherd past that way,

Who set him right again-a. 140

Then mounting upon his steed so tall,

By hill and dale he swore-a:

I'll ride at once to her father's hall;

She shall escape no more-a.

I'll take her father by the beard, 145

I'll challenge all her kindred;

Each dastard soul shall stand affeard;

My wrath shall no more be hindred,

He rode unto her father's house,

Which every side was moated: 150

The lady heard his furious vows,

And all his vengeance noted.

Thought shee, sir knight, to quench your rage,

Once more I will endeavour:

This water shall your fury 'swage, 155

Or else it shall burn for ever.

Then faining penitence and feare,

She did invite a parley:

Sir knight, if you'll forgive me heare,

Henceforth I'll love you dearly. 160

My father he is now from home,

And I am all alone, sir:

Therefore a-cross the water come;

And I am all your own, sir.

False maid, thou canst no more deceive; 165

I scorn the treacherous bait-a:

If thou would'st have me thee believe,

Now open me the gate-a.

The bridge is drawn, the gate is barr'd,

My father he has the keys, sir. 170

But I have for my love prepar'd

A shorter way and easier.

Over the moate I've laid a plank

Full seventeen feet in measure:

Then step a-cross to the other bank, 175

And there we'll take our pleasure.

These words she had no sooner spoke,

But strait he came tripping over:

The plank was saw'd, it snapping broke;

And sous'd the unhappy lover. 180

[***]

FOOTNOTES:

[844] [pinder or impounder of cattle.]

XVI.

WHY SO PALE?

From Sir John Suckling's _Poems_. This sprightly knight was born in

1613, and cut off by a fever about the 29th year of his age. See above,

Song IX. of this Book.

* * * * *

[This celebrated song occurs in the tragedy of _Aglaura_, where it

is sung by Orsames, a young lord, who says--"It is a little foolish

counsel I gave a friend of mine four or five years ago when he was

falling into a consumption."

Dr. Rimbault (_Musical Illustrations_, p. 29) writes, "The original

air is here given from a MS. volume of old songs with the music,

_temp._ Charles II. in the collection of the Editor. It was

originally in the Library at Staunton Harold, Leicestershire, the

seat of Earl Ferrers. This beautiful lyric was sung by Mrs. Cross

in the _Mock Astrologer_, to an air composed by Lewis Ramondon.

It was afterwards reset by Dr. Arne."

The date of the poet's birth given above is incorrect. Suckling was

baptized on the tenth of February, 1608-9, and his mother died in

1613. Reduced in fortune and an alien, he died of poison bought by

him of an apothecary at Paris. The date of his death is not known,

but it probably took place in 1641, and he certainly was dead

before the year 1642 had ended.]

* * * * *

Why so pale and wan, fond lover?

Prethee, why so pale?

Will, when looking well can't move her,

Looking ill prevail?

Prethee, why so pale? 5

Why so dull and mute, young sinner?

Prethee why so mute?

Will, when speaking well can't win her,

Saying nothing doe't?

Prethee why so mute? 10

Quit, quit for shame; this will not move,

This cannot take her;

If of herself she will not love,

Nothing can make her.

The devil take her! 15

XVII.

OLD TOM OF BEDLAM.

MAD SONG THE FIRST.

It is worth attention, that the English have more songs and ballads on

the subject of madness, than any of their neighbours. Whether there be

any truth in the insinuation, that we are more liable to this calamity

than other nations, or that our native gloominess hath peculiarly

recommended subjects of this cast to our writers; we certainly do not

find the same in the printed collections of French, Italian Songs, &c.

Out of a much larger quantity, we have selected half a dozen _mad

songs_ for these volumes. The three first are originals in their

respective kinds; the merit of the three last is chiefly that of

imitation. They were written at considerable intervals of time; but we

have here grouped them together, that the reader may the better examine

their comparative merits. He may consider them as so many trials of

skill in a very peculiar subject, as the contest of so many rivals to

shoot in the bow of Ulysses. The two first were probably written about

the beginning of the last century; the third about the middle of it;

the fourth and sixth towards the end; and the fifth within this present

century.

This is given from the Editor's folio MS. compared with two or three

old printed copies.--With regard to the author of this old rhapsody,

in Walton's _Compleat Angler_, cap. 3, is a song in praise of angling,

which the author says was made at his request "by Mr. _William Basse_,

one that has made the choice songs of the _Hunter in his career_, and

of _Tom of Bedlam_, and many others of note," p. 84. See Sir _John

Hawkins's_ curious Edition, 8vo. of that excellent old book.

* * * * *

[The madness here referred to was sometimes real, but more often

shammed. These "mad rascals" were so numerous a class that they

obtained the distinctive names of Bedlam beggars, and Abraham

men. Dekker describes their tricks in his _Bellman of London_,

1616, where he says, "he calls himself by the name of _Poor Tom_,

and coming near any body, cries out, 'Poor Tom is a cold;'" the

very expression used by Edgar when he appears in the disguise of

a madman (_King Lear_). Mr. Chappell observes that there is great

uncertainty as to the authorship, for there are so many Tom of

Bedlam songs that it is impossible to determine from the passage in

the _Complete Angler_ to which of them Walton refers. It is also

doubtful to whom we are indebted for the tune. Mr. Chappell thinks

that probably it was by Henry Lawes's master, John Cooper, called

Cuperario after his visit to Italy. It has been attributed, without

authority, to Henry Purcell and Henry Lawes.]

* * * * *

Forth from my sad and darksome cell,

Or from the deepe abysse of hell,[845]

Mad Tom is come into the world againe

To see if he can cure his distempered braine.[846]

Feares and cares oppresse my soule;[847] 5

Harke, howe the angrye Fureys houle!

Pluto laughes, and Proserpine is gladd[848]

To see poore naked Tom of Bedlam madd.

Through the world I wander night and day[849]

To seeke my straggling senses, 10

In an angrye moode I mett old Time,[850]

With his pentarchye of tenses:[851]

When me he spyed,[852]

Away he hyed,[853]

For time will stay for no man:[854] 15

In vaine with cryes

I rent the skyes,[855]

For pity is not common.[856]

Cold and comfortless I lye:

Helpe, oh helpe! or else I dye! 20

Harke! I heare Apollo's teame,

The carman 'gins to whistle;

Chast Diana bends her bowe,

The boare begins to bristle.

Come, Vulcan, with tools and with tackles, 25

To knocke off my troublesome shackles;[857]

Bid Charles make ready his waine

To fetch me my senses againe.[858]

Last night I heard the dog-star bark;

Mars met Venus in the darke; 30

Limping Vulcan het[859] an iron barr,[860]

And furiouslye made at the god of war:[861]

Mars with his weapon laid about,[862]

But Vulcan's temples had the gout,

For his broad horns did so hang in his light,[863] 35

He could not see to aim his blowes aright:[864]

Mercurye the nimble post of heaven,

Stood still to see the quarrell;[865]

Gorrel-bellyed[866] Bacchus, gyant-like,

Bestryd a strong-beere barrell. 40

To mee he dranke,

I did him thanke,

But I could get no cyder;

He dranke whole butts

Till he burst his gutts, 45

But mine were ne'er the wyder.

Poore naked Tom is very drye:

A little drinke for charitye!

Harke, I hear Acteon's horne!

The huntsmen whoop and hallowe: 50

Ringwood, Royster, Bowman, Jowler,

All the chase do followe.

The man in the moone drinkes clarret,

Eates powder'd beef, turnip, and carret,

But a cup of old Malaga sack 55

Will fire the bushe at his backe.

FOOTNOTES:

[845] [Ver. 2. _or_ not in MS.]

[846] [V. 4. can ease.]

[847] [V. 5. ffeare & dispayre pursue.]

[848] [V. 7. _and_ not in MS.]

[849] [V. 9. through woods.]

[850] [V. 11. I found out time.]

[851] [five tenses.]

[852] [V. 13. he spyes.]

[853] [V. 14. he fflyes.]

[854] [V. 15. _for_ not in MS.]

[855] [Ver. 17. hee rends.]

[856] [V. 18. _for_ not in MS.]

[857] [V. 26. and knocke.]

[858] [V. 28. my five sences.]

[859] [heated.]

[860] [V. 31. heates.]

[861] [V. 32. runs att.]

[862] [V. 33. weapons.]

[863] [V. 35. hang soe.]

[864] [V. 36. that hee cold not see to aime arright.]

[865] [V. 38. stayd to see.]

[866] [very fat bellied.]

XVIII.

THE DISTRACTED PURITAN,

MAD SONG THE SECOND,

Was written about the beginning of the seventeenth century by the witty

bishop Corbet, and is printed from the 3d edition of his Poems, 12mo.

1672, compared with a more ancient copy in the Editor's folio MS.

* * * * *

[This song was printed in _Le Prince d'Amour_, 1660, with three

other songs entitled _Tom of Bedlam_. It was also printed in the

_Rump Songs_, 1662, but not in the edition of 1660.

The copy in the folio MS. (ed. Hales and Furnivall, vol. iii. p.

269) has several alterations. Stanza 5 was taken by Percy from the

MS., where it occurs as stanza 8.

Richard Corbet, successively Bishop of Oxford and Norwich, was born

at Ewell in Surrey in 1582. He died in 1635. He was a humorous man,

and many pleasant stories are told of him, but Aubrey describes his

appearance as "grave and venerable."

* * * * *

Am I mad, O noble Festus,

When zeal and godly knowledge

Have put me in hope

To deal with the pope,

As well as the best in the college? 5

Boldly I preach, hate a cross, hate a surplice,

Mitres, copes, and rochets;

Come hear me pray nine times a day,

And fill your heads with crochets.

In the house of pure Emanuel[867] 10

I had my education,

Where my friends surmise

I dazel'd my eyes

With the sight of revelation.

Boldly I preach, &c.

They bound me like a bedlam, 15

They lash'd my four poor quarters;

Whilst this I endure,

Faith makes me sure

To be one of Foxes martyrs.

Boldly I preach, &c.

These injuries I suffer 20

Through antichrist's perswasion:

Take off this chain,

Neither Rome nor Spain

Can resist my strong invasion.

Boldly I preach, &c.

Of the beast's ten horns (God bless us!) 25

I have knock'd off three already;

If they let me alone

I'll leave him none:

But they say I am too heady.

Boldly I preach, &c.

When I sack'd the seven-hill'd city, 30

I met the great red dragon;

I kept him aloof

With the armour of proof,

Though here I have never a rag on.

Boldly I preach, &c.

With a fiery sword and target, 35

There fought I with this monster:

But the sons of pride

My zeal deride,

And all my deeds misconster.

Boldly I preach, &c.

I un-hors'd the Whore of Babel, 40

With the lance of Inspiration;

I made her slink,

And spill the drink

In her cup of abomination.

Boldly I preach, &c.

I have seen two in a vision 45

With a flying-book[868] between them.

I have been in despair

Five times in a year,

And been cur'd by reading Greenham.[869]

Boldly I preach, &c.

I observ'd in Perkin's tables[870] 50

The black line of damnation;

Those crooked veins

So stuck in my brains,

That I fear'd my reprobation.

Boldly I preach, &c.

In the holy tongue of Canaan 55

I plac'd my chiefest pleasure:

Till I prick'd my foot

With an Hebrew root,

That I bled beyond all measure.

Boldly I preach, &c.

I appear'd before the archbishop,[871] 60

And all the high commission;

I gave him no grace,

But told him to his face,

That he favour'd superstition.

Boldly I preach, hate a cross, hate a surplice,

Mitres, copes, and rochets: 66

Come hear me pray nine times a day,

And fill your heads with crotchets.

FOOTNOTES:

[867] Emanuel college, Cambridge, was originally a seminary of Puritans.

[Fuller has left us the following anecdote of Sir Walter Mildmay, the

founder of Emanuel, in his _History of the University of Cambridge_.

"Coming to court after he had founded his college, the queen told him,

'Sir Walter, I hear you have erected a Puritan foundation.' 'No madam,'

saith he, 'far be it from me to countenance anything contrary to your

established laws; but I have set an acorn, which, when it becomes an

oak, God alone knows what will be the fruit thereof.'"]

[868] Alluding to some visionary exposition of Zech. ch. v. ver. 1;

or, if the date of this song would permit, one might suppose it aimed

at one _Coppe_, a strange enthusiast, whose life may be seen in Wood's

_Athen._ vol. ii. p. 501. He was author of a book, intitled, _The Fiery

Flying Roll_: and afterwards published a Recantation, part of whose

title is, _The Fiery Flying Roll's Wings clipt_, &c.

[869] See Greenham's _Works_, fol. 1605, particularly the tract

intitled, _A sweet Comfort for an afflicted Conscience_.

[Richard Greenham was born _circa_ 1531 and died in 1591. He was

a singularly ardent preacher, and Brook, in his _Lives of the

Puritans_, says, that "in addition to his public ministerial labours

he had a remarkable talent for comforting afflicted consciences." His

_Works_ were first collected in 1599.]

[870] See Perkin's _Works_, fol. 1616, vol. i. p. 11; where is a large

half sheet folded, containing, _A survey, or table, declaring the

order of the causes of salvation and damnation, &c._ the pedigree of

damnation being distinguished by a broad black zig-zag line.

[William Perkins (1558-1602). Brook says of him, that he used to

pronounce the word _damn_ with so peculiar an emphasis "that it left a

doleful echo in the eares a long time after." His works were frequently

reprinted, and, according to Fuller, were translated into Latin,

French, Dutch, and Spanish.]

[871] Abp. Laud.

XIX.

THE LUNATIC LOVER,

MAD SONG THE THIRD,

Is given from an old printed copy in the British Museum, compared with

another in the Pepys collection; both in black letter.

* * * * *

[Black-letter copies of this ballad are to be found in the Bagford,

Douce, and Roxburghe collections, as well as in the Pepys. The tune

was a favourite one, and several other ballads were sung to it.]

* * * * *

Grim king of the ghosts, make haste,

And bring hither all your train;

See how the pale moon does waste,

And just now is in the wane.

Come, you night-hags, with all your charms, 5

And revelling witches away,

And hug me close in your arms;

To you my respects I'll pay.

I'll court you, and think you fair,

Since love does distract my brain: 10

I'll go, I'll wed the night-mare,

And kiss her, and kiss her again:

But if she prove peevish and proud,

Then, a pise on her love! let her go;

I'll seek me a winding shroud, 15

And down to the shades below.

A lunacy sad I endure,

Since reason departs away;

I call to those hags for a cure

As knowing not what I say. 20

The beauty, whom I do adore,

Now slights me with scorn and disdain;

I never shall see her more;

Ah! how shall I bear my pain!

I ramble, and range about 25

To find out my charming saint;

While she at my grief does flout,

And smiles at my loud complaint.

Distraction I see is my doom,

Of this I am now too sure; 30

A rival is got in my room,

While torments I do endure.

Strange fancies do fill my head,

While wandering in despair,

I am to the desarts lead, 35

Expecting to find her there.

Methinks in a spangled cloud

I see her enthroned on high;

Then to her I crie aloud,

And labour to reach the sky. 40

When thus I have raved awhile,

And wearyed myself in vain,

I lye on the barren soil,

And bitterly do complain.

Till slumber hath quieted me, 45

In sorrow I sigh and weep;

The clouds are my canopy

To cover me while I sleep.

I dream that my charming fair

Is then in my rival's bed, 50

Whose tresses of golden hair

Are on the fair pillow bespread.

Then this doth my passion inflame

I start, and no longer can lie:

Ah! Sylvia, art thou not to blame 55

To ruin a lover? I cry.

Grim king of the ghosts, be true,

And hurry me hence away,

My languishing life to you

A tribute I freely pay. 60

To the elysian shades I post

In hopes to be freed from care.

Where many a bleeding ghost

Is hovering in the air.

[Illustration]

XX.

THE LADY DISTRACTED WITH LOVE,

MAD SONG THE FOURTH,

Was originally sung in one of _Tom D'urfey's_ comedies of _Don Quixote_

in 1694 and 1696; and probably composed by himself. In the several

stanzas, the author represents his pretty Mad-woman as 1. sullenly mad:

2. mirthfully mad: 3. melancholy mad: 4. fantastically mad: and 5.

stark mad. Both this, and Num. XXII. are printed from D'urfey's _Pills

to purge Melancholy_, 1719, vol. i.

* * * * *

From rosie bowers, where sleeps the god of love,

Hither ye little wanton cupids fly;

Teach me in soft melodious strains to move

With tender passion my heart's darling joy:

Ah! let the soul of musick tune my voice, 5

To win dear Strephon, who my soul enjoys.

Or, if more influencing

Is to be brisk and airy,

With a step and a bound,

With a frisk from the ground, 10

I'll trip like any fairy.

As once on Ida dancing

Were three celestial bodies:

With an air, and a face,

And a shape, and a grace, 15

I'll charm, like beauty's goddess.

Ah! 'tis in vain! 'tis all, 'tis all in vain!

Death and despair must end the fatal pain:

Cold, cold despair, disguis'd like snow and rain,

Falls on my breast; bleak winds in tempests blow;

My veins all shiver, and my fingers glow: 21

My pulse beats a dead march for lost repose,

And to a solid lump of ice my poor fond heart is froze.

Or say, ye powers, my peace to crown,

Shall I thaw myself, and drown 25

Among the foaming billows?

Increasing all with tears I shed,

On beds of ooze, and crystal pillows,

Lay down, lay down my lovesick head?

No, no, I'll strait run mad, mad, mad, 30

That soon my heart will warm;

When once the sense is fled, is fled,

Love has no power to charm.

Wild thro' the woods I'll fly, I'll fly,

Robes, locks----shall thus----be tore! 35

A thousand, thousand times I'll dye

Ere thus, thus, in vain,--ere thus in vain adore.

XXI.

THE DISTRACTED LOVER,

MAD SONG THE FIFTH,

Was written by _Henry Carey_, a celebrated composer of music at the

beginning of this century, and author of several little Theatrical

Entertainments, which the reader may find enumerated in the _Companion

to the Play-house_, &c. The sprightliness of this songster's fancy

could not preserve him from a very melancholy catastrophe, which was

effected by his own hand. In his _Poems_, 4to. Lond. 1729, may be seen

another Mad-Song of this author, beginning thus:

"Gods! I can never this endure,

Death alone must be my cure," &c.

* * * * *

I go to the Elysian shade,

Where sorrow ne'er shall wound me;

Where nothing shall my rest invade,

But joy shall still surround me.

I fly from Celia's cold disdain, 5

From her disdain I fly;

She is the cause of all my pain,

For her alone I die.

Her eyes are brighter than the mid-day sun,

When he but half his radiant course has run, 10

When his meridian glories gaily shine,

And gild all nature with a warmth divine.

See yonder river's flowing tide,

Which now so full appears;

Those streams, that do so swiftly glide, 15

Are nothing but my tears.

There I have wept till I could weep no more,

And curst mine eyes, when they have wept their store:

Then, like the clouds, that rob the azure main,

I've drain'd the flood to weep it back again. 20

Pity my pains,

Ye gentle swains!

Cover me with ice and snow,

I scorch, I burn, I flame, I glow!

Furies, tear me, 25

Quickly bear me

To the dismal shades below!

Where yelling, and howling

And grumbling, and growling

Strike the ear with horrid woe. 30

Hissing snakes,

Fiery lakes

Would be a pleasure, and a cure:

Not all the hells,

Where Pluto dwells, 35

Can give such pain as I endure.

To some peaceful plain convey me,

On a mossey carpet lay me,

Fan me with ambrosial breeze,

Let me die, and so have ease! 40

XXII.

THE FRANTIC LADY,

MAD SONG THE SIXTH.

This, like Num. XX., was originally sung in one of _D'urfey's_ comedies

of _Don Quixote_, (first acted about the year 1694) and was probably

composed by that popular songster, who died Feb. 26, 1723.

This is printed in the _Hive, a Collection of Songs_, 4 vols. 1721,

12mo. where may be found two or three other _Mad Songs_ not admitted

into these Volumes.

* * * * *

I burn, my brain consumes to ashes!

Each eye-ball too like lightning flashes!

Within my breast there glows a solid fire,

Which in a thousand ages can't expire!

Blow, blow, the winds' great ruler! 5

Bring the Po, and the Ganges hither,

'Tis sultry weather,

Pour them all on my soul,

It will hiss like a coal,

But be never the cooler. 10

'Twas pride hot as hell,

That first made me rebell,

From love's awful throne a curst angel I fell

And mourn now my fate,

Which myself did create: 15

Fool, fool, that consider'd not when I was well!

Adieu! ye vain transporting joys!

Off ye vain fantastic toys!

That dress this face--this body--to allure!

Bring me daggers, poison, fire! 20

Since scorn is turn'd into desire.

All hell feels not the rage, which I, poor I, endure.

XXIII.

LILLI BURLERO.

The following rhymes, slight and insignificant as they may now

seem, had once a more powerful effect than either the Philippics of

Demosthenes, or Cicero; and contributed not a little towards the great

revolution in 1688. Let us hear a contemporary writer.

"A foolish ballad was made at that time, treating the Papists, and

chiefly the Irish, in a very ridiculous manner, which had a burden said

to be Irish words, _Lero, lero, liliburlero_, that made an impression

on the (king's) army, that cannot be imagined by those that saw it not.

The whole army, and at last the people, both in city and country, were

singing it perpetually. And perhaps never had so slight a thing so

great an effect."--_Burnet._

It was written, or at least republished, on the earl of Tyrconnel's

going a second time to Ireland in October, 1688. Perhaps it is

unnecessary to mention, that General Richard Talbot, newly created earl

of Tyrconnel, had been nominated by K. James II. to the lieutenancy

of Ireland in 1686, on account of his being a furious papist, who had

recommended himself to his bigotted master by his arbitrary treatment

of the protestants in the preceding year, when only lieutenant general,

and whose subsequent conduct fully justified his expectations and their

fears. The violences of his administration may be seen in any of the

histories of those times: particularly in bishop King's _State of the

Protestants in Ireland_, 1691, 4to.

This song is attributed to Lord _Wharton_ in a small pamphlet,

intitled, _A true relation of the several facts and circumstances

of the intended riot and tumult on Q. Elizabeth's birth-day, &c._

3d. ed. Lond. 1712, pr. 2_d._--See p. 5, viz.--"A late Viceroy (of

Ireland,) who has so often boasted himself upon his talent for mischief

invention, lying, and for making a certain _Lilliburlero Song_; with

which, if you will believe himself, he sung a deluded Prince out of

Three Kingdoms."

_Lilliburlero_ and _Bullen-a-lah_ are said to have been the words of

distinction used among the Irish Papists in their massacre of the

Protestants in 1641.

* * * * *

[To no song could be better attributed Fletcher of Saltoun's dictum

than to this poor specimen of verse, which caught the fancy of the

people and drove James from his throne. Macaulay wrote of it as

follows:--"From one end of England to the other all classes were

constantly singing this idle rhyme. It was especially the delight

of the English army. More than seventy years after the Revolution,

Sterne delineated with exquisite skill a veteran who had fought

at the Boyne and at Namur. One of the characteristics of the good

old soldier is his trick of whistling _Lilliburlero_." The air is

attributed to Purcell, but it is supposed that he only arranged

an earlier tune. Hume thought that the popularity of the song was

rather due to the composer of the air than to the author of the

words.

Mr. Markland, in a note to Boswell's _Life of Johnson_, says, that

"according to Lord Dartmouth there was a particular expression in

it, which the king remembered that he had made use of to the Earl

of Dorset, from whence it was concluded that he was the author."

Upon this Mr. Chappell remarks, 1. that "the Earl of Dorset laid

no claim to it, and it is scarcely to be believed that the author

of _To all you ladies now on land_ could have penned such thorough

doggrel." 2. That "the ballad contains no expression that the King

would have used, which might not equally have been employed by any

other person."[872] There can now be little doubt that the author

was Thomas Marquis of Wharton, father of the mad Duke Philip of

Wharton. He discerned the indications of the political horizon and

espoused the winning side. He was well rewarded for his wisdom. Mr.

S. Redmond (_Notes and Queries_, third series, viii. 13) writes

that he has often heard the girls in the south and south-east of

Ireland, while engaged in binding the corn into sheaves after the

reapers, sing the following chorus, which always had reference to

one of the gang who was not so quick at her work as the others, and

who consequently was left behind:

"Lully by lero,

Lully by lero,

Help her along."]

* * * * *

Ho! broder Teague, dost hear de decree?

Lilli burlero, bullen a-la.

Dat we shall have a new deputie,

Lilli burlero burlen a-la.

Lero lero, lilli burlero, lero lero, bullen a-la, 5

Lero lero, lilli burlero, lero lero, bullen a-la.

Ho! by shaint Tyburn, it is de Talbote:[873]

Lilli, &c.

And he will cut de Englishmen's troate.

Lilli, &c. 10

Dough by my shoul de English do praat,

Lilli, &c.

De law's on dare side, and Creish knows what.

Lilli, &c.

But if dispence do come from de pope, 15

Lilli, &c.

We'll hang Magna Charta, and dem in a rope.

Lilli, &c.

For de good Talbot is made a lord,

Lilli, &c. 20

And with brave lads is coming aboard:

Lilli, &c.

Who all in France have taken a sware,

Lilli, &c.

Dat dey will have no protestant heir. 25

Lilli, &c.

Ara! but why does he stay behind?

Lilli, &c.

Ho! by my shoul 'tis a protestant wind.

Lilli, &c. 30

But see de Tyrconnel is now come ashore,

Lilli, &c.

And we shall have commissions gillore.

Lilli, &c.

And he dat will not go to de mass, 35

Lilli, &c.

Shall be turn out, and look like an ass.

Lilli, &c.

Now, now de hereticks all go down,

Lilli, &c. 40

By Chrish and shaint Patrick, de nation's our own.

Lilli, &c.

Dare was an old prophesy found in a bog,[874]

Lilli, &c.

"Ireland shall be rul'd by an ass, and a dog." 45

Lilli, &c.

And now dis prophesy is come to pass,

Lilli, &c.

For Talbot's de dog, and JA**S is de ass.

Lilli, &c. 50

FOOTNOTES:

[872] [_Popular Music of the Olden Time_, vol. ii. p. 569.]

[873] Ver. 7. Ho by my shoul, _al. ed._

[874] Ver. 43. What follows is not in some copies.

XXIV.

THE BRAES OF YARROW,

IN IMITATION OF THE ANCIENT SCOTS MANNER,

Was written by William Hamilton, of Bangour, Esq; who died March 25,

1734, aged 50. It is printed from an elegant edition of his _Poems_,

published at Edinburgh, 1760, 12mo. This song was written in imitation

of an old Scottish ballad on a similar subject, with the same burden to

each stanza.

* * * * *

[The beautiful river Yarrow has few rivals as an inspirer of song.

These verses of Hamilton's are copied from the old ballad--_The_

_Dowie Dens_ (melancholy downs) _of Yarrow_, a collated version

of which was first printed by Scott in his _Minstrelsy of the

Scottish Border_. Scott was of opinion that with many readers

the greatest recommendation of the old ballad will be that it

suggested to Hamilton his modern one. We may say that the greatest

recommendation of Hamilton's poem to us is the fact that it

inspired Wordsworth to write his three lovely little poems, _Yarrow

Unvisited_, _Visited_, and _Revisited_.

There are two old ballads which have been much mixed up by

reciters, viz. _The Dowie Dens_ and _Willie's drowned in Yarrow_.

The Rev. John Logan's _Braes of Yarrow_ is founded on the latter.

William Hamilton of Bangour was born in 1704 and died at Lyons in

1754, from which place his remains were brought to Scotland, and

interred in Holyrood Abbey. He was a Jacobite, and after the battle

of Culloden was forced to skulk about the Highlands in disguise

until he was able to escape to France. He returned to Scotland

after the country had quieted down in 1749.]

* * * * *

_A._ Busk[875] ye, busk ye, my bonny bonny bride,

Busk ye, busk ye, my winsome marrow,[876]

Busk ye, busk ye, my bonny bonny bride,

And think nae mair on the Braes[877] of Yarrow.

_B._ Where gat ye that bonny bonny bride? 5

Where gat ye that winsome marrow?

_A._ I gat her where I dare na weil be seen,

Puing the birks[878] on the Braes of Yarrow.

Weep not, weep not, my bonny bonny bride,

Weep not, weep not, my winsome marrow; 10

Nor let thy heart lament to leive

Puing the birks on the Braes of Yarrow.

_B._ Why does she weep, thy bonny bonny bride?

Why does she weep thy winsome marrow?

And why dare ye nae mair weil be seen 15

Puing the birks on the Braes of Yarrow?

_A._ Lang maun she weep, lang maun she, maun she weep,

Lang maun she weep with dule and sorrow;

And lang maun I nae mair weil be seen

Puing the birks on the Braes of Yarrow. 20

For she has tint[879] her luver, luver dear,

Her luver dear, the cause of sorrow;

And I hae slain the comliest swain

That eir pu'd birks on the Braes of Yarrow.

Why rins thy stream, O Yarrow, Yarrow, reid? 25

Why on thy braes heard the voice of sorrow?

And why yon melancholious weids

Hung on the bonny birks of Yarrow?

What's yonder floats on the rueful rueful flude?

What's yonder floats? O dule and sorrow! 30

O 'tis he the comely swain I slew

Upon the duleful Braes of Yarrow.

Wash, O wash his wounds, his wounds in tears,

His wounds in tears with dule and sorrow;

And wrap his limbs in mourning weids, 35

And lay him on the Braes of Yarrow.

Then build, then build, ye sisters, sisters sad,

Ye sisters sad, his tomb with sorrow;

And weep around in waeful wise

His hapless fate on the Braes of Yarrow. 40

Curse ye, curse ye, his useless, useless shield,

My arm that wrought the deed of sorrow,

The fatal spear that pierc'd his breast,

His comely breast on the Braes of Yarrow.

Did I not warn thee, not to, not to luve? 45

And warn from fight? but to my sorrow

Too rashly bauld a stronger arm

Thou mett'st, and fell'st on the Braes of Yarrow.

Sweet smells the birk, green grows, green grows the grass,

Yellow on Yarrow's bank the gowan,[880] 50

Fair hangs the apple frae the rock,

Sweet the wave of Yarrow flowan.

Flows Yarrow sweet? as sweet, as sweet flows Tweed,

As green its grass, its gowan as yellow,

As sweet smells on its braes the birk, 55

The apple frae its rock as mellow.

Fair was thy luve, fair fair indeed thy luve,

In flow'ry bands thou didst him fetter;

Tho' he was fair, and weil beluv'd again

Than me he never luv'd thee better. 60

Busk ye, then busk, my bonny bonny bride,

Busk ye, busk ye, my winsome marrow,

Busk ye, and luve me on the banks of Tweed,

And think nae mair on the Braes of Yarrow.

_C._ How can I busk a bonny bonny bride? 65

How can I busk a winsome marrow?

How luve him upon the banks of Tweed,

That slew my luve on the Braes of Yarrow?

O Yarrow fields, may never never rain,

Nor dew thy tender blossoms cover, 70

For there was basely slain my luve,

My luve, as he had not been a lover.

The boy put on his robes, his robes of green,

His purple vest, 'twas my awn sewing:

Ah! wretched me! I little, little kenn'd 75

He was in these to meet his ruin.

The boy took out his milk-white, milk-white steed,

Unheedful of my dule and sorrow:

But ere the toofall[881] of the night

He lay a corps on the Braes of Yarrow. 80

Much I rejoyc'd that waeful waeful day;

I sang, my voice the woods returning:

But lang ere night the spear was flown,

That slew my luve, and left me mourning.

What can my barbarous barbarous father do, 85

But with his cruel rage pursue me?

My luver's blood is on thy spear,

How canst thou, barbarous man, then wooe me?

My happy sisters may be, may be proud

With cruel, and ungentle scoffin', 90

May bid me seek on Yarrow's Braes

My luver nailed in his coffin.

My brother Douglas may upbraid, upbraid,

And strive with threatning words to muve me:

My luver's blood is on thy spear, 95

How canst thou ever bid me luve thee?

Yes, yes, prepare the bed, the bed of luve,

With bridal sheets my body cover,

Unbar, ye bridal maids, the door,

Let in the expected husband lover. 100

But who the expected husband husband is?

His hands, methinks, are bath'd in slaughter:

Ah me! what ghastly spectre's yon

Comes in his pale shroud, bleeding after?

Pale as he is, here lay him, lay him down, 105

O lay his cold head on my pillow;

Take aff, take aff these bridal weids,

And crown my careful head with willow.

Pale tho' thou art, yet best, yet best beluv'd,

O could my warmth to life restore thee! 110

Yet lye all night between my breists,

No youth lay ever there before thee.

Pale, pale indeed, O luvely luvely youth,

Forgive, forgive, so foul a slaughter,

And lye all night between my breists, 115

No youth shall ever lye there after.

_A._ Return, return, O mournful, mournful bride,

Return and dry thy useless sorrow:

Thy luver heeds none of thy sighs,

He lyes a corps in the Braes of Yarrow. 120

FOOTNOTES:

[875] [dress.]

[876] [companion.]

[877] [hilly banks.]

[878] [pulling the birch trees.]

[879] [lost.]

[880] [daisy.]

[881] [twilight.]

XXV.

ADMIRAL HOSIER'S GHOST

Was a party song written by the ingenious author of _Leonidas_,[882]

on the taking of Porto Bello from the Spaniards by Admiral Vernon,

Nov. 22, 1739.--The case of Hosier, which is here so pathetically

represented, was briefly this. In April, 1726, that commander was

sent with a strong fleet into the Spanish West-Indies, to block up

the galleons in the ports of that country, or should they presume to

come out, to seize and carry them into England: he accordingly arrived

at the Bastimentos near Porto Bello, but being employed rather to

overawe than to attack the Spaniards, with whom it was probably not our

interest to go to war, he continued long inactive on that station, to

his own great regret. He afterwards removed to Carthagena, and remained

cruizing in these seas, till far the greater part of his men perished

deplorably by the diseases of that unhealthy climate. This brave man,

seeing his best officers and men thus daily swept away, his ships

exposed to inevitable destruction, and himself made the sport of the

enemy, is said to have died of a broken heart. Such is the account of

Smollett, compared with that of other less partial writers.

The following song is commonly accompanied with a Second Part, or

Answer, which being of inferior merit, and apparently written by

another hand, hath been rejected.

* * * * *

[Dr. Rimbault (_Musical Illustrations_, p. 30) writes: "The

earliest copy of the tune to this ballad is contained in the

ballad opera of _Sylvia, or the Country Burial_, 1731. It may

also be found in Walsh's _British Musical Miscellany_, vol. iv.

and in other works of a similar description. The ballads of _Come

and listen to my ditty_ and _Cease, rude Boreas_, were sung to

this tune, which appears to have been always a favourite for 'sea

ditties.'"

In Hannah More's _Life_ (vol. i. p. 405) is the following

interesting note: "I was much amused with hearing old Leonidas

Glover sing his own fine ballad of _Hosier's Ghost_, which was very

affecting. He is past eighty." In the matter of the last item Mrs.

More was wrong. Richard Glover was born in 1712, and died on Nov.

25, 1785.]

* * * * *

As near Porto-Bello lying

On the gently swelling flood,

At midnight with streamers flying

Our triumphant navy rode;

There while Vernon sate all-glorious 5

From the Spaniards' late defeat:

And his crews, with shouts victorious,

Drank success to England's fleet:

On a sudden shrilly sounding,

Hideous yells and shrieks were heard; 10

Then each heart with fear confounding,

A sad troop of ghosts appear'd,

All in dreary hammocks shrouded,

Which for winding-sheets they wore,

And with looks by sorrow clouded 15

Frowning on that hostile shore.

On them gleam'd the moon's wan lustre,

When the shade of Hosier brave

His pale bands was seen to muster

Rising from their watry grave. 20

O'er the glimmering wave he hy'd him,

Where the Burford[883] rear'd her sail,

With three thousand ghosts beside him,

And in groans did Vernon hail.

Heed, oh heed our fatal story, 25

I am Hosier's injur'd ghost,

You, who now have purchas'd glory,

At this place where I was lost!

Tho' in Porto-Bello's ruin

You now triumph free from fears, 30

When you think on our undoing,

You will mix your joy with tears.

See these mournful spectres sweeping

Ghastly o'er this hated wave,

Whose wan cheeks are stain'd with weeping; 35

These were English captains brave.

Mark those numbers pale and horrid,

Those were once my sailors bold:

Lo, each hangs his drooping forehead,

While his dismal tale is told. 40

I, by twenty sail attended,

Did this Spanish town affright;

Nothing then its wealth defended

But my orders not to fight.

Oh! that in this rolling ocean 45

I had cast them with disdain,

And obey'd my heart's warm motion

To have quell'd the pride of Spain!

For resistance I could fear none,

But with twenty ships had done 50

What thou, brave and happy Vernon,

Hast atchiev'd with six alone.

Then the bastimentos never

Had our foul dishonour seen,

Nor the sea the sad receiver 55

Of this gallant train had been.

Thus, like thee, proud Spain dismaying,

And her galleons leading home,

Though condemn'd for disobeying,

I had met a traitor's doom, 60

To have fallen, my country crying

He has play'd an English part,

Had been better far than dying

Of a griev'd and broken heart.

Unrepining at thy glory, 65

Thy successful arms we hail;

But remember our sad story,

And let Hosier's wrongs prevail.

Sent in this foul clime to languish,

Think what thousands fell in vain, 70

Wasted with disease and anguish,

Not in glorious battle slain.

Hence with all my train attending

From their oozy tombs below,

Thro' the hoary foam ascending, 75

Here I feed my constant woe:

Here the bastimentos viewing,

We recal our shameful doom,

And our plaintive cries renewing,

Wander thro' the midnight gloom. 80

O'er these waves for ever mourning

Shall we roam depriv'd of rest,

If to Britain's shores returning

You neglect my just request;

After this proud foe subduing, 85

When your patriot friends you see,

Think on vengeance for my ruin,

And for England sham'd in me.

FOOTNOTES:

[882] An ingenious correspondent informs the Editor, that this ballad

hath been also attributed to the late Lord Bath.

[883] Admiral Vernon's ship.

XXVI.

JEMMY DAWSON.

_James Dawson_ was one of the Manchester rebels, who was hanged, drawn,

and quartered, on Kennington-common, in the county of Surrey, July 30,

1746.--This ballad is founded on a remarkable fact, which was reported

to have happened at his execution. It was written by the late _William

Shenstone_, Esq; soon after the event, and has been printed amongst

his posthumous works, 2 vols. 8vo. It is here given from a MS. which

contained some small variations from that printed copy.

* * * * *

[Captain James Dawson was one of eight officers belonging to the

Manchester regiment of Volunteers in the service of the young

Chevalier, who were executed on Kennington Common.

The following ballad is founded upon a narrative first published

in a periodical entitled _The Parrot_, Saturday, 2d August, 1746,

three days after the occurrence. In the _Whitehall Evening Post_,

Aug. 7, 1746, the same story is told with the addition, that "upon

enquiry every circumstance was literally true." Another ballad is

said to have been written upon Dawson's fate, and sung about the

streets. It is reprinted in the _European Magazine_, April, 1801,

p. 248, and begins as follows:

"Blow ye bleak winds around my head,

Sooth my heart corroding care, &c."]

* * * * *

Come listen to my mournful tale,

Ye tender hearts, and lovers dear;

Nor will you scorn to heave a sigh,

Nor will you blush to shed a tear

And thou, dear Kitty, peerless maid, 5

Do thou a pensive ear incline;

For thou canst weep at every woe,

And pity every plaint, but mine.

Young Dawson was a gallant youth,

A brighter never trod the plain; 10

And well he lov'd one charming maid,

And dearly was he lov'd again.

One tender maid she lov'd him dear,

Of gentle blood the damsel came,

And faultless was her beauteous form, 15

And spotless was her virgin fame.

But curse on party's hateful strife,

That led the faithful youth astray

The day the rebel clans appear'd:

O had he never seen that day! 20

Their colours and their sash he wore,

And in the fatal dress was found;

And now he must that death endure,

Which gives the brave the keenest wound.

How pale was then his true love's cheek, 25

When Jemmy's sentence reach'd her ear!

For never yet did Alpine snows

So pale, nor yet so chill appear.

With faltering voice she weeping said,

Oh Dawson, monarch of my heart, 30

Think not thy death shall end our loves,

For thou and I will never part.

Yet might sweet mercy find a place,

And bring relief to Jemmy's woes,

O GEORGE, without a prayer for thee 35

My orisons should never close.

The gracious prince that gives him life

Would crown a never-dying flame,

And every tender babe I bore

Should learn to lisp the giver's name. 40

But though, dear youth, thou should'st be dragg'd

To yonder ignominious tree,

Thou shalt not want a faithful friend

To share thy bitter fate with thee.

O then her mourning coach was call'd, 45

The sledge mov'd slowly on before;

Tho' borne in a triumphal car,

She had not lov'd her favourite more.

She followed him, prepar'd to view

The terrible behests of law; 50

And the last scene of Jemmy's woes

With calm and stedfast eye she saw.

Distorted was that blooming face,

Which she had fondly lov'd so long:

And stifled was that tuneful breath, 55

Which in her praise had sweetly sung:

And sever'd was that beauteous neck,

Round which her arms had fondly clos'd:

And mangled was that beauteous breast,

On which her love-sick head repos'd: 60

And ravish'd was that constant heart,

She did to every heart prefer;

For tho' it could his king forget,

'Twas true and loyal still to her.

Amid those unrelenting flames 65

She bore this constant heart to see;

But when 'twas moulder'd into dust,

Now, now, she cried, I'll follow thee.

My death, my death alone can show

The pure and lasting love I bore: 70

Accept, O heaven, of woes like ours,

And let us, let us weep no more.

The dismal scene was o'er and past,

The lover's mournful hearse retir'd;

The maid drew back her languid head, 75

And sighing forth his name, expir'd.

Tho' justice ever must prevail,

The tear my Kitty sheds is due;

For seldom shall she hear a tale

So sad, so tender, and so true. 80

THE END OF THE THIRD BOOK.

[Illustration]

APPENDIX.

[Illustration]

APPENDIX.

ON THE ALLITERATIVE METRE, WITHOUT RHYME, IN PIERCE PLOWMAN'S VISIONS.

We learn from Wormius[884], that the ancient Islandic poets used a

great variety of measures: he mentions 136 different kinds, without

including rhyme, or a correspondence of final syllables, yet this was

occasionally used, as appears from the Ode of Egil, which Wormius hath

inserted in his book.

He hath analysed the structure of one of these kinds of verse, the

harmony of which neither depended on the quantity of the syllables,

like that of the ancient Greeks and Romans; nor on the rhymes at the

end, as in modern poetry; but consisted altogether in alliteration, or

a certain artful repetition of the sounds in the middle of the verses.

This was adjusted according to certain rules of their prosody, one

of which was, that every distich should contain at least three words

beginning with the same letter or sound. Two of these correspondent

sounds might be placed either in the first or second line of the

distich, and one in the other: but all three were not regularly to be

crowded into one line. This will be best understood by the following

examples[885]:

"_M_eire og _M_inne

_M_ogu heimdaller."

"_G_ab _G_inuga

Enn _G_ras huerge."

There were many other little niceties observed by the Islandic poets,

who, as they retained their original language and peculiarities longer

than the other nations of Gothic race, had time to cultivate their

native poetry more, and to carry it to a higher pitch of refinement,

than any of the rest.

Their brethren, the Anglo-Saxon poets, occasionally used the same kind

of alliteration, and it is common to meet, in their writings, with

similar examples of the foregoing rules. Take an instance or two in

modern characters[886]:

"_Sk_eop tha and _Sk_yrede

_Sk_yppend ure."

"_H_am and _H_eahsetl

_H_eofena rikes."

I know not, however, that there is anywhere extant an entire Saxon poem

all in this measure. But distichs of this sort perpetually occur in all

their poems of any length.

Now if we examine the versification of Pierce Plowman's _Visions_, we

shall find it constructed exactly by these rules; and therefore each

line, as printed, is in reality a distich of two verses, and will, I

believe, be found distinguished as such, by some mark or other in all

the ancient MSS. viz.:

"In a _S_omer _S_eason, | when 'hot'[887] was the _S_unne,

I _Sh_ope me into _Sh_roubs, | as I a _Sh_epe were;

In _H_abite as an _H_armet | un_H_oly of werkes,

_W_ent _W_yde in thys world | _W_onders to heare, &c."

So that the author of this poem will not be found to have invented any

new mode of versification, as some have supposed, but only to have

retained that of the old Saxon and Gothic poets; which was probably

never wholly laid aside, but occasionally used at different intervals:

though the ravages of time will not suffer us now to produce a regular

series of poems entirely written in it.

There are some readers whom it may gratify to mention, that these

_Visions of Pierce_ (_i.e._ Peter) _the Plowman_, are attributed

to Robert Langland, a secular priest, born at Mortimer's Cleobury in

Shropshire, and fellow of Oriel College in Oxford, who flourished in

the reigns of Edward III. and Richard II., and published his poem a

few years after 1350. It consists of xx. _passus_ or breaks[888],

exhibiting a series of visions which, he pretends, happened to him on

Malvern hills in Worcestershire. The author excells in strong allegoric

painting, and has with great humour, spirit, and fancy, censured most

of the vices incident to the several professions of life; but he

particularly inveighs against the corruptions of the clergy, and the

absurdities of superstition. Of this work I have now before me four

different editions in black-letter quarto. Three of them are printed in

1550, "by Robert Crowley, dwelling in Elye Rentes in Holburne." It is

remarkable that two of these are mentioned in the title-page as both of

the second impression, though they contain evident variations in every

page[889]. The other is said to be "newlye imprynted after the authors

olde copy ... by Owen Rogers," Feb. 21, 1561.

As Langland was not the first, so neither was he the last that used

this alliterative species of versification. To Rogers's edition of the

_Visions_ is subjoined a poem, which was probably writ in imitation of

them, intitled _Pierce the Ploughman's Crede_. It begins thus:

"_C_ros, and _C_urteis _C_hrist, this beginning spede

For the _F_aders _F_rendshipe, that _F_ourmed heaven,

And through the _Sp_ecial _Sp_irit, that _Sp_rong of hem tweyne,

And al in one godhed endles dwelleth."

The author feigns himself ignorant of his Creed, to be instructed in

which he applies to the four religious orders, viz., the gray friers

of St. Francis, the black friers of St. Dominic, the Carmelites or

white friers, and the Augustines. This affords him occasion to describe

in very lively colours the sloth, ignorance, and immorality of those

reverend drones. At length he meets with Pierce, a poor ploughman,

who resolves his doubts, and instructs him in the principles of true

religion. The author was evidently a follower of Wiccliff, whom he

mentions (with honour) as no longer living[890]. Now that reformer

died in 1384. How long after his death this poem was written, does not

appear.

In the Cotton library is a volume of ancient English poems[891],

two of which are written in this alliterative metre, and have the

division of the lines into distichs distinctly marked by a point, as is

usual in old poetical MSS. That which stands first of the two (though

perhaps the latest written) is entitled _The Sege of I'erlam_, (_i.e._

Jerusalem), being an old fabulous legend composed by some monk, and

stuffed with marvellous figments concerning the destruction of the holy

city and temple. It begins thus:

"In _T_yberius _T_yme. the _T_rewe emperour

_S_yr _S_esar hymself. be_S_ted in Rome

Whyll _P_ylat was _P_rovoste. under that _P_rynce ryche

And _J_ewes _J_ustice also. of _J_udeas londe

_H_erode under empere. as _H_erytage wolde

_K_yng, &c."

The other is intitled _Chevalere Assigne_ (or De Cigne), that is, _The

Knight of the Swan_, being an ancient Romance, beginning thus:

"All-_W_eldynge God. _W_hene it is his _W_ylle

_W_ele he _W_ereth his _W_erke. _W_ith his owene honde

For ofte _H_armes were _H_ente. that _H_elpe we ne my[gh]te

Nere the _H_y[gh]nes of _H_ym. that lengeth in _H_evene

For this, &c."

Among Mr. Garrick's collection of old plays[892] is a prose narrative

of the adventures of this same Knight of the Swan, "newly translated

out of Frenshe into Englyshe, at thinstigacion of the puyssaunt and

illustryous prynce, lorde Edward duke of Buckynghame." This lord it

seems had a peculiar interest in the book, for, in the preface, the

translator tells us, that this "highe dygne and illustryous prynce

my lorde Edwarde by the grace of god Duke of Buckyngham, erle of

Hereforde, Stafforde, and Northampton, desyrynge cotydyally to encrease

and augment the name and fame of such as were relucent in vertuous

feates and triumphaunt actes of chyvalry, and to encourage and styre

every lusty and gentell herte by the exemplyficacyon of the same,

havyng a goodli booke of the highe and miraculous histori of a famous

and puyssaunt kynge, named Oryant, sometime reynynge in the parties

of beyonde the sea, havynge to his wife a noble lady; of whome she

conceyved sixe sonnes and a daughter, and chylded of them at one

only time; at whose byrthe echone of them had a chayne of sylver at

their neckes, the whiche were all tourned by the provydence of god

into whyte swannes, save one, of the whiche this present hystory is

compyled, named Helyas, the knight of the swanne, _of whome linially is

dyscended my sayde lorde_. The whiche ententifly to have the sayde

hystory more amply and unyversally knowen in thys hys natif countrie,

as it is in other, hath of hys hie bountie by some of his faithful and

trusti servauntes cohorted mi mayster Wynkin de Worde[893] to put the

said vertuous hystori in prynte ... at whose instigacion and stiring I

(Roberte Copland) have me applied, moiening the helpe of god, to reduce

and translate it into our maternal and vulgare english tonge after the

capacitè and rudenesse of my weke entendement." A curious picture of

the times! While in Italy literature and the fine arts were ready to

burst forth with classical splendor under Leo X. the first peer of this

realm was proud to derive his pedigree from a fabulous knight of the

swan[894]!

To return to the metre of Pierce Plowman: In the folio MS. so often

quoted in these volumes, are two poems written in that species of

versification. One of these is an ancient allegorical poem intitled

_Death and Life_, (in 2 fitts or parts, containing 458 distichs) which,

for ought that appears, may have been written as early, if not before,

the time of Langland. The first forty lines are broke as they should be

into distichs, a distinction that is neglected in the remaining part of

the transcript, in order, I suppose, to save room. It begins:

"_Chr_ist _Chr_isten king,

that on the _Cr_osse tholed;

Hadd _Pa_ines and _Pa_ssyons

to defend our soules;

Give us _Gr_ace on the _Gr_ound

the _Gr_eatlye to serve,

For that _R_oyall _R_ed blood

that _R_ann from thy side."

The subject of this piece is a vision, wherein the poet sees a contest

for superiority between "our lady Dame Life," and the "ugly fiend

Dame Death;" who with their several attributes and concomitants

are personified in a fine vein of allegoric painting. Part of the

description of Dame Life is:

"Shee was _B_righter of her _B_lee,

then was the _B_right sonn:

Her _R_udd _R_edder then the _R_ose,

that on the _R_ise hangeth:

_M_eekely smiling with her _M_outh,

And _M_erry in her lookes;

Ever _L_aughing for _L_ove,

as shee _L_ike would.

And as shee came by the _B_ankes,

the _B_oughes eche one

They _L_owted to that _L_adye,

and _L_ayd forth their branches;

_B_lossomes, and _B_urgens

_B_reathed full sweete;

_F_lowers _F_lourished in the _F_rith,

where shee _F_orth stepped;

And the _Gr_asse, that was _Gr_ay,

_Gr_eened belive."

Death is afterwards sketched out with a no less bold and original

pencil.

The other poem is that which is quoted in the 32nd page of this volume,

and which was probably the last that was ever written in this kind of

metre in its original simplicity unaccompanied with rhyme. It should

have been observed above in page 32, that in this poem the lines are

throughout divided into distichs, thus:

"_Gr_ant _Gr_acious God,

_Gr_ant me this time," &c.

It is intitled _Scottish Feilde_ (in 2 fitts, 420 distichs,) containing

a very circumstantial narrative of the battle of Flodden, fought Sept.

9, 1513: at which the author seems to have been present from his

speaking in the first person plural:

"Then _we T_ild downe _our T_ents,

that _T_old were a thousand."

In the conclusion of the poem he gives this account of himself:

"He was a _G_entleman by _J_esu,

that this _G_est[895] made:

Which _S_ay but as he _S_ayd[896]

for _S_ooth and noe other.

At _B_agily that _B_earne

his _B_iding place had;

And his ancestors of old time

have yearded[897] theire longe,

Before William _C_onquerour

this _C_untry did inhabitt.

Jesus _B_ring 'them'[898] to _B_lisse,

that _B_rought us forth of _Bale_,

That hath _H_earkned me _H_eare

or _H_eard my _tale_."

The village of Bagily or Baguleigh is in Cheshire, and had belonged

to the ancient family of Legh for two centuries before the battle

of Flodden. Indeed that the author was of that county appears from

other passages in the body of the poem, particularly from the pains

he takes to wipe off a stain from the Cheshiremen, who it seems ran

away in that battle, and from his encomiums on the Stanleys, earls of

Derby, who usually headed that county. He laments the death of James

Stanley, bishop of Ely, as what had recently happened when this poem

was written; which serves to ascertain its date, for that prelate died

March 22, 1514-5.

Thus have we traced the alliterative measure so low as the sixteenth

century. It is remarkable that all such poets as used this kind of

metre, retained along with it many peculiar Saxon idioms, particularly

such as were appropriated to poetry: this deserves the attention of

those who are desirous to recover the laws of the ancient Saxon poesy,

usually given up as inexplicable: I am of opinion that they will find

what they seek in the metre of Pierce Plowman[899].

About the beginning of the sixteenth century this kind of versification

began to change its form: the author of _Scottish Field_, we see,

concludes his poem with a couplet in rhyme: this was an innovation

that did but prepare the way for the general admission of that more

modish ornament; till at length the old uncouth verse of the ancient

writers would no longer go down without it. Yet when rhyme began to be

superadded, all the niceties of alliteration were at first retained

along with it; and the song of _Little John Nobody_ exhibits this

union very clearly. By degrees the correspondence of final sounds

engrossing the whole attention of the poet, and fully satisfying the

reader, the internal imbellishment of alliteration was no longer

studied, and thus was this kind of metre at length swallowed up and

lost in our common burlesque Alexandrine, or Anapestic verse[900], now

never used but in ballads and pieces of light humour, as in the song of

_Conscience_, and in that well-known doggerel,

"A cobler there was, and he lived in a stall."

But although this kind of measure hath with us been thus degraded, it

still retains among the French its ancient dignity; their grand heroic

verse of twelve syllables[901] is the same genuine offspring of the

old alliterative metre of the ancient Gothic and Francic poets, stript

like our Anapestic of its alliteration, and ornamented with rhyme: but

with this difference, that whereas this kind of verse hath been applied

by us only to light and trivial subjects, to which by its quick and

lively measure it seemed best adapted, our poets have let it remain

in a more lax unconfined state[902], as a greater degree of severity

and strictness would have been inconsistent with the light and airy

subjects to which they have applied it. On the other hand, the French

having retained this verse as the vehicle of their epic and tragic

flights, in order to give it a stateliness and dignity were obliged to

confine it to more exact laws of scansion: they have therefore limited

it to the number of twelve syllables; and by making the cæsura or pause

as full and distinct as possible, and by other severe restrictions,

have given it all the solemnity of which it was capable. The harmony of

both however depends so much on the same flow of cadence and disposal

of the pause, that they appear plainly to be of the same original; and

every French heroic verse evidently consists of the ancient distich

of their Francic ancestors: which, by the way, will account to us why

this verse of the French so naturally resolves itself into two complete

hemistics. And indeed by making the cæsura or pause always to rest

on the last syllable of a word, and by making a kind of pause in the

sense, the French poets do in effect reduce their hemistics to two

distinct and independent verses: and some of their old poets have gone

so far as to make the two hemistics rhyme to each other.[903]

After all, the old alliterative and anapestic metre of the English

poets being chiefly used in a barbarous age, and in a rude unpolished

language, abounds with verses defective in length, proportion, and

harmony; and therefore cannot enter into a comparison with the

correct versification of the best modern French writers; but making

allowances for these defects, that sort of metre runs with a cadence

so exactly resembling the French heroic Alexandrine, that I believe

no peculiarities of their versification can be produced, which cannot

be exactly matched in the alliterative metre. I shall give by way of

example a few lines from the modern French poets accommodated with

parallels from the ancient poem of _Life and Death_; in these I shall

denote the cæsura or pause by a perpendicular line, and the cadence by

the marks of the Latin quantity.

_L[)e] s[)u]cc[=e]s f[)u]t to[)u]jo[=u]rs_ | _[)u]n [)e]nf[=a]nt

d[)e] l'[)a]ud[=a]ce_

[)A]ll sh[)a]ll dr[=y]e w[)i]th th[)e] d[=i]nts | th[)a]t I

d[)e]al w[)i]th m[)y] h[=a]nds.

_L'h[)o]mm[)e] pr[=u]d[)e]nt v[)o]it tr[=o]p_ |

_l'[)i]ll[=u]s[)i][)o]n l[)e] s[=u]it_,

Y[=o]nd[)e]r d[=a]ms[)e]l [)i]s d[=e]ath | th[)a]t dr[=e]ss[)e]th

h[)e]r t[)o] sm[=i]te.

_L'[)i]ntr[)e]p[=i]d[)e] v[)o]it m[=i]eux_ | _[)e]t l[)e]

f[=a]nt[=o]m[)e] f[=u]it.[904]_

Wh[)e]n sh[)e] d[=o]lef[)u]ll[)y] s[=a]w | h[=o]w sh[)e] d[=a]ng

d[=o]wne h[)i]r f[=o]lke.

_M[)e]me a[)u]x ye[=u]x d[)e] l'inj[=u]ste_ | _[)u]n

[)i]nj[=u]ste [)e]st h[)o]rr[=i]bl[)e].[905]_

Th[)e]n sh[)e] c[=a]st [)u]p [)a] cr[=y]e | t[)o] th[)e] h[=i]gh

k[)i]ng [)o]f he[=a]v[)e]n.

_D[)u] m[)e]ns[=o]ng[)e] to[)u]jo[=u]rs_ | _l[)e] vr[=a]i

d[)e]m[=e]ur[)e] m[=a]itr[)e]_,

Th[)o]u sh[)a]lt b[=i]tt[)e]rly[)e] b[=y]e | [)o]r [=e]lse th[)e]

b[=o]ok[)e] f[=a]il[)e]th.

_Po[)u]r p[)a]r[=o]itre h[=o]nn[)e]te h[=o]mme_ | _[)e]n [)u]n

m[=o]t, [)i]l f[)a]ut l'[=e]tre.[906]_

Th[)u]s I f[=a]red thr[=o]ugh [)a] fr[=y]the | wh[)e]re th[)e]

fl[=o]w[)e]rs w[)e]re m[=a]n[)y]e.

To conclude: the metre of Pierce Plowman's Visions has no kind of

affinity with what is commonly called blank verse; yet has it a sort

of harmony of its own, proceeding not so much from its alliteration,

as from the artful disposal of its cadence, and the contrivance of

its pause; so that when the ear is a little accustomed to it, it is

by no means unpleasing; but claims all the merit of the French heroic

numbers, only far less polished; being sweetened, instead of their

final rhymes, with the internal recurrence of similar sounds.

[Illustration]

ADDITIONS TO THE ESSAY ON THE ALLITERATIVE METRE.

Since the foregoing essay was first printed, the Editor hath met with

some additional examples of the old alliterative metre.

The first is in MS.[907] which begins thus:

"_C_rist _C_rowned _K_yng, that on _C_ros didest,[908]

And art _C_omfort of all _C_are, thow[909] kind go out of _C_ours,

With thi _H_alwes in _H_even _H_eried mote thu be,

And thy _W_orshipful _W_erkes _W_orshiped evre,

That suche _S_ondry _S_ignes _S_hewest unto man,

In _D_remyng, in _D_recchyng,[910] and in _D_erke swevenes."

The Author from this proemium takes occasion to give an account of a

dream that happened to himself: which he introduces with the following

circumstances:

"_O_nes y me _O_rdayned, as y have _O_fte doon,

With _F_rendes, and _F_elawes, _F_rendemen, and other;

And _C_aught me in a _C_ompany on _C_orpus _C_hristi even,

_S_ix, other[911] _S_even myle, oute of _S_uthampton,

To take _M_elodye, and _M_irthes, among my _M_akes;

With _R_edyng of _R_omaunces, and _R_evelyng among,

The _D_ym of the _D_erknesse _D_rewe me into the west;

And be_G_on for to spryng in the _G_rey day.

Than _L_ift y up my _L_yddes, and _L_oked in the sky,

And _K_newe by the _K_ende _C_ours, hit clered in the est:

_B_lyve y _B_usked me down, and to _B_ed went,

For to _C_omforte my _K_ynde, and _C_acche a slepe."

He then describes his dream:

"Methought that y _H_oved on _H_igh on an _H_ill,

And loked _D_oun on a _D_ale _D_epest of othre;

Ther y _S_awe in my _S_ighte a _S_elcouthe peple;

The _M_ultitude was so _M_oche, it _M_ighte not be nombred:

Methoughte y herd a _C_rowned _K_yng, of his _C_omunes axe

A _S_oleyne[912] _S_ubsidie, to _S_usteyne his werres.

* * * * *

With that a _C_lerk _K_neled adowne and _C_arped these wordes,

_L_iege _L_ord, yif it you _L_ike to _L_isten a while,

_S_om _S_awes of _S_alomon y shall you shewe sone."

The writer then gives a solemn lecture to kings on the art of

governing. From the demand of subsidies "to susteyne his werres," I am

inclined to believe this poem composed in the reign of K. Henry V., as

the MS. appears from a subsequent entry to have been written before the

9th of Henry VI. The whole poem contains but 146 lines.

The alliterative metre was no less popular among the old Scottish

poets, than with their brethren on this side the Tweed. In Maitland's

collection of ancient Scottish poems, MS. in the Pepysian library, is a

very long poem in this species of versification, thus inscribed:

"_Heir_ begins the Tretis of the Twa Marriit Wemen, and the Wedo,

compylit be Maister _William Dunbar_.[913]

Upon the _M_idsummer evven _M_irriest of nichtis

I _M_uvit furth alane quhen as _M_idnight was past

Besyd ane _G_udlie _G_rene _G_arth,[914] full of _G_ay flouris

_H_egeit[915] of ane _H_uge _H_icht with _H_awthorne treeis

Quairon ane _B_ird on ane _B_ransche so _B_irst out hir notis

That nevir ane _B_lythfuller _Bi_rd was on the _B_euche[916] hard &c."

The Author pretends to overhear three gossips sitting in an arbour,

and revealing all their secret methods of alluring and governing the

other sex; it is a severe and humorous satire on bad women, and nothing

inferior to Chaucer's Prologue to his _Wife of Bath's Tale_. As

Dunbar lived till about the middle of the sixteenth century, this poem

was probably composed after _Scottish Field_ (described above in p.

384), which is the latest specimen I have met with written in England.

This poem contains about five hundred lines.

But the current use of the alliterative metre in Scotland, appears more

particularly from those popular vulgar prophecies, which are still

printed for the use of the lower people in Scotland, under the names

of Thomas the Rymer, Marvellous Merling, &c. This collection seems to

have been put together after the accession of James I. to the crown

of England, and most of the pieces in it are in the metre of _Pierce

Plowman's Visions_, The first of them begins thus:

"Merling sayes in his book, who will _R_ead _R_ight,

Although his _S_ayings be uncouth, they _S_hall be true found.

In the seventh chapter, read _W_hoso _W_ill,

One thousand and more after Christ's birth, &c."

And the prophesie of Beid:

"Betwixt the chief of _S_ummer and the _S_ad winter;

Before the _H_eat of summer _H_appen shall a war

That _E_urop's lands _E_arnestly shall be wrought

And _E_arnest _E_nvy shall last but a while, &c."

So again the prophesie of Berlington:

"When the _R_uby is _R_aised, _R_est is there none,

But much _R_ancour shall _R_ise in _R_iver and plain

Much _S_orrow is _S_een through a _S_uth-hound

That beares _H_ornes in his _H_ead like a wyld _H_art, &c."

In like metre is the prophesie of Waldhave:

"Upon _L_owdon _L_aw alone as I _L_ay,

_L_ooking to the _L_ennox, as me _L_ief thought,

The first _M_orning of _M_ay, _M_edicine to seek

For _M_alice and _M_elody that _M_oved me sore, &c."

And lastly, that intitled the prophesie of Gildas:

"When holy kirk is _W_racked and _W_ill has no _W_it

And _P_astors are _P_luckt, and _P_il'd without _P_ity

When _I_dolatry _I_s _I_n _ens_ and _re_

And spiritual pastours are vexed away, &c."

It will be observed in the foregoing specimens, that the alliteration

is extremely neglected, except in the third and fourth instances;

although all the rest are written in imitation of the cadence used in

this kind of metre. It may perhaps appear from an attentive perusal,

that the poems ascribed to Berlington and Waldhave are more ancient

than the others: indeed the first and fifth appear evidently to have

been new modelled, if not intirely composed about the beginning of the

last century, and are probably the latest attempts ever made in this

species of verse.

In this and the foregoing essay are mentioned all the specimens I have

met with of the alliterative metre without rhyme: but instances occur

sometimes in old manuscripts, of poems written both with final rhymes

and the internal cadence and alliterations of the metre of Pierce

Plowman.

This Essay will receive illustration from another specimen in Warton's

_History of English Poetry_, vol. i. p. 309, being the fragment of

a MS. poem on the subject of _Alexander the Great_, in the Bodleian

Library, which he supposes to be the same with No. 44 in the Ashmol.

MSS. containing twenty-seven _passus_, and beginning thus:

"Whener folk fastid [feasted, _qu._] and fed, fayne wolde thei

her [_i.e._ hear]

Some farand thing, &c."

It is well observed by Mr. Tyrwhitt on Chaucer's sneer at this old

alliterative metre (vol. iii. p. 305), viz.:

"----I am a Sotherne [_i.e._ Southern] man,

I cannot geste, rom, ram, raf, by my letter,"

that the fondness for this species of versification, &c. was retained

longest in the northern provinces: and that the author of _Pierce

Plowman's Visions_ is in the best MSS. called _William_, without any

surname. See vol. iv. p. 74.

* * * * *

[The Rev. Walter W. Skeat, editor of _Piers Plowman_, for the

Early English Text Society, has written _An Essay on Alliterative_

_Poetry_, for Hales and Furnivall's edition of the Percy folio

MS., which will be found in the third volume of that work (pp.

xi.-xxxix.). He gives a list of all the poems he has met with that

have been written as alliterative, yet without rhyme, since the

Conquest, and ends his essay with the following note:--"The reader

must be warned against three extraordinary mis-statements in this

(Percy's) essay, following close upon one another near the end of

it. These are (1) that Robert of Gloucester wrote in anapæstic

verse, whereas he wrote in the long Alexandrine verse, containing

(when perfect) six _Returns_; (2) that the French alone have

retained this old Gothic metre [the twelve-syllabled Alexandrine]

for their serious poems, whereas we may be sure that Michael

Drayton, the author of the Polyolbion, meant his poem seriously;

and (3) that the cadence of _Piers Plowman_ 'so exactly resembles

the French Alexandrine, that I believe no peculiarities of their

versification can be produced which cannot be exactly matched in

the alliterative metre.' This is indeed a curious craze, for the

alliterative metre is founded on _Dominants_, the Alexandrine

on _Returns_. Percy gives some examples, and the metre which he

selects for numbering is the _French_ one, as the reader may easily

judge for himself when he finds that the line

"L[)e] s[)u]cc[=e]s f[)u]t to[)u]jo[=u]rs | [)u]n [)e]nf[=a]nt

d[)e] l'a[)u]d[=a]ce"

is marked by him as it is marked here, and is supposed to consist

of _four Anapæsts_! Yet one more blunder to be laid at the door of

the 'Anapæsts!' Would that we were well rid of them, and that the

'longs' and 'shorts' were buried beside them."]

FOOTNOTES:

[884] _Literatura Runica._ Hafniæ, 1636, 4to.--1651, fol. The

_Islandic_ language is of the same origin as our _Anglo-Saxon_, being

both dialects of the ancient _Gothic_ or _Teutonic_. Vid. _Hickesii

Præfat. in Grammat. Anglo-Saxon. & Moeso-Goth_, 4to. 1689.

[885] Vid. Hickes _Antiq. Literatur. Septentrional._ tom. i. p. 217.

[886] _Ibid._

[887] So I would read with Mr. Warton, rather than either "soft," as in

MS. or "set," as in PCC.

[888] The poem properly contains xxi. parts: the word _passus_, adopted

by the author, seems only to denote the break or division between two

parts, though by the ignorance of the printer applied to the parts

themselves. See vol. iii. preface to ballad iii. where _Passus_ seems

to signify _Pause_.

[889] That which seems the first of the two, is thus distinguished in

the title-page, "nowe the seconde tyme imprinted by Roberte Crowlye;"

the other thus, "nowe the seconde time imprinted by Robert Crowley." In

the former the folios are thus erroneously numbered 39, 39, 41, 63, 43,

42, 45, &c. The booksellers of those days did not ostentatiously affect

to multiply editions.

[890] Signature T. ii.

[891] Caligula A. ij. fol. 109. 123.

[892] K. vol x.

[893] W. de Worde's edit. is in 1512. See Ames, p. 92. Mr. G.'s copy is

"¶ Imprinted at London by me Wylliam Copland."

[894] He is said in the story-book to be the grandfather of Godfrey of

Boulogne, through whom I suppose the duke made out his relation to him.

This duke was beheaded May 17, 1521, 13 Hen. VIII.

[895] Jest, MS.

[896] Probably corrupted for--"_S_ays but as he _S_aw."

[897] Yearded, _i.e. buried_, _earthed_, earded. It is common to

pronounce "Earth," in some parts of England "Yearth," particularly in

the north.--Pitscottie speaking of James III. slain at Bannockbourn,

says, "Nae man wot whar they _yearded_ him."

[898] "us." MS. In the 2d line above, the MS. has "bidding."

[899] And in that of Robert of Gloucester. See the next note.

[900] Consisting of four Anapests ([)] [)] ¯) in which the accent rests

upon every third syllable. This kind of verse, which I also call the

burlesque Alexandrine (to distinguish it from the other Alexandrines

of eleven and fourteen syllables, the parents of our lyric measure:

see examples, pp. 151, 152, &c.), was early applied by Robert of

Gloucester to serious subjects. That writer's metre, like this of

Langland's, is formed on the Saxon models (each verse of his containing

a Saxon distich), only instead of the internal alliterations adopted by

Langland, he rather chose final rhymes, as the French poets have done

since. Take a specimen:

"The Saxons tho in ther power, tho thii were so rive,

Seve kingdoms made in Engelonde, and suthe but vive:

The king of Northomberlond, and of Eastangle also,

Of Kent, and of Westsex, and of the March, therto."

Robert of Gloucester wrote in the western dialect, and his language

differs exceedingly from that of other contemporary writers, who

resided in the metropolis, or in the midland counties. Had the

Heptarchy continued, our English language would probably have been as

much distinguished for its different dialects as the Greek; or at least

as that of the several independent states of Italy.

[901] Or of thirteen syllables, in what they call a feminine verse.

It is remarkable that the French alone have retained this old Gothic

metre for their serious poems; while the English, Spaniards, &c. have

adopted the Italic verse of ten syllables, although the Spaniards, as

well as we, anciently used a short-lined metre. I believe the success

with which Petrarch, and perhaps one or two others, first used the

heroic verse of ten syllables in Italian poesy, recommended it to the

Spanish writers; as it also did to our Chaucer, who first attempted it

in English; and to his successors Lord Surrey, Sir Thomas Wyat, &c.;

who afterwards improved it and brought it to perfection. To Lord Surrey

we also owe the first introduction of blank verse in his versions of

the second and fourth Books of the _Æneid_, 1557, 4to.

[902] Thus our poets use this verse indifferently with twelve, eleven,

and even ten syllables. For though regularly it consists of four

Anapests ([)] [)] ¯) or twelve syllables, yet they frequently retrench

a syllable from the first or third Anapest; and sometimes from both; as

in these instances from _Prior_, and from the Song of Conscience:

"Wh[)o] h[)a]s e[=e]r be[)e]n [)a]t P[=a]r[)i]s, m[)u]st n[=e]eds

kn[)o]w th[)e] Gr[=e]ve,

Th[)e] f[=a]t[)a]l r[)e]tr[=e]at [)o]f th'

[)u]nf[=o]rt[)u]n[)a]te br[=a]ve.

H[)e] st[=e]pt t[)o] h[)i]m str[=a]ight, [)a]nd d[=i]d h[)i]m

r[)e]qu[=i]re."

[903] See instances in _L'Hist. de la Poesie Françoise, par Massieu_,

&c. In the same book are also specimens of alliterative French verses.

[904] Catalina, A. 3.

[905] Boileau Sat.

[906] Boil. Sat. ii.

[907] In a small 4to. MS. containing thirty-eight leaves in private

hands.

[908] Didst dye.

[909] though.

[910] being overpowered.

[911] _i.e._ either, or.

[912] solemn.

[913] Since the above was written, this poem hath been printed in

_Ancient Scottish Poems, &c._ from the MS. Collections of Sir R.

Maitland, of Lethington, knight, of London, 1786, 2 vols. 12mo. The two

first lines are here corrected by that edition.

[914] Garden.

[915] Hedged.

[916] Bough.

[Illustration]

INDEX OF BALLADS AND POEMS IN THE SECOND VOLUME.

Agincourt, For the Victory at, 29.

Aldingar (Sir), 54.

Althea (To) from Prison, 321.

Argentile and Curan, 252.

As ye came from the Holy Land, 101.

Baffled Knight, or Lady's Policy, 336.

Barton (Sir Andrew), 188.

Beggar's Daughter of Bednall Green, 171.

Bothwell's (Lady Anne) Lament, 209.

Braes of Yarrow, 362.

Charing Cross, Downfall of, 323.

Charles I., Verses by, 329.

Chaucer, Original Ballad by, 14.

Complaint of Conscience, 279.

Corin's Fate, 262.

Corydon's Doleful Knell, 274.

Cromwell (Thomas Lord), 71.

Cupid's Assault, by Lord Vaux, 50.

Dawson (Jemmy), 371.

Distracted Lover, 355.

Distracted Puritan, 347.

Edward I., On the Death of, 10.

Edward IV. and Tanner of Tamworth, 92.

Eleanor's (Q.) Confession, 164.

Elizabeth's (Q.) Verses while Prisoner at Woodstock, 137.

---- Sonnet, 218.

Fair Rosamond, 154.

Fancy and Desire, 185.

Frantic Lady, 357.

Gaberlunyie Man, 67.

Gascoigne's Praise of the Fair Bridges, afterwards Lady Sandes, 150.

Gentle Herdsman, tell to me, 86.

Hardyknute, 105.

Harpalus, 75.

Heir of Linne, 138.

Hosier's (Admiral) Ghost, 367.

James I., Verses by, 300.

Jane Shore, 263.

John Anderson, my Jo, 131.

John (King) and the Abbot of Canterbury, 303.

King of Scots and Andrew Browne, 221.

Lady distracted with Love, 354.

Lilli Burlero, 358.

Little John Nobody, 133.

Loyalty Confined, 326.

Lunatic Lover, 351.

Luther, the Pope, a Cardinal, and a Husbandman, 125.

Lye (The), by Sir Walter Raleigh, 297.

Mary Ambree, 231.

Murder of the King of Scots, 213.

Murray, Bonny Earl of, 226.

Not-Browne Maid, 31.

Old Tom of Bedlam, 344.

Old and Young Courtier, 314.

Plain Truth and Blind Ignorance, 285.

Richard of Almaigne, 3.

Rivers (Earl), Balet by, 48.

Robin and Makyne, 79.

Sale of Rebellious Houshold Stuff, 332.

Spanish Lady's Love, 247.

Sturdy Rock, 169.

Suckling's (Sir John) Campaigne, 318.

Turnament of Tottenham, 17.

Victorious Men of Earth, 242.

Wandering Jew, 291.

Why so Pale, 343.

Willoughbey, Brave Lord, 238.

Winning of Cales, 243.

You meaner Beauties, 312.

Young Waters, 228.

END OF VOLUME THE SECOND.

Transcriber's Notes:

Simple spelling, grammar, and typographical errors

were corrected.

Punctuation normalized.

Anachronistic and non-standard spellings retained as printed.

ERRATA on p. vii were incorporated in the document.

Italics markup is enclosed in _underscores_.

Greek text is transliterated and enclosed in #number signs#.

Anglo-Saxon uncial script is enclosed in +plus sign+.

Special Characters and Symbols.

Latin Abbreviation Large Sign Et [et]

Latin small letter heng [hj]

Latin small letter thorn with stroke [þ/]

yogh [gh]

inverted asterism [***]

triple dagger (center one reversed) [+±+]

therefore sign [···]

reversed pilcrow sign [r¶]

black right pointing index [-»]

white right pointing index [->]

Diacritical Marks. In the table below, the "x" represents a letter

with a diacritical mark.

diacritical mark sample above below

macron (straight line) ¯ [=x] [x=]

1 dot · [.x] [x.]

circumflex ^ [^x] [x^]

breve (u-shaped symbol) [)x] [x)]

Reliques of Ancient English Poetry, Volume 2 (of 3) Consisting of Old Heroic Ballads, Songs and Other Pieces of Our Earlier Poets Together With Some Few of Later Date · 第 6 / 6 章

with the burden, _Then she sang Downe a downe, hey downe derry_.