The twentieth epigram in the fourth book of _Chrestoleros_, by T. B.
(poor Thomas Bastard), printed 1598, is to the following effect:
"Sheepe have eate up our medows and our downes,
Our corne, our wood, whole villages and townes.
Yea, they have eate up many wealthy men,
Besides widowes, and orphane childeren:
Besides our statutes and our iron lawes,
Which they have swallowed down into their maws.
Till now I thought the proverbe did but jest,
Which said a blacke sheepe was a biting beast."
Here the allusion is of course to the miseries entailed by the system of
sheep-farming; a system which had been introduced and carried to excess
by the monastic bodies. Some years ago I met with an old satirical song
on this subject, of which the above "proverbe" formed a kind of burden,
but where, or in what collection I met with it, I cannot for the life of
me remember. Now, seeing that your periodical exemplifies very
accurately the definition once given by a Surrey peasant of a highly
accomplished man--"Sir! he knows everything, and what he don't know he
axes,"--perhaps you will allow me to ask whether some one of your many
able correspondents may not have the power and the will to give me this
information. A worthless memory seems to suggest that the song was a
Cambridge production, and interspersed with Latin phrases.
Now, one word about the author of the epigram above quoted. It is not, I
hope, an abuse of the freedom of speech which ought to prevail in the
republic of letters, if I express a strong opinion that your learned
contributor, MR. PAYNE COLLIER, has rendered very scant justice to the
memory of Bastard. The epigrams selected by that gentleman as favourable
samples, are among the very worst of the author's efforts.
Probably not twenty copies of the _Chrestoleros_ are in existence; but
as, by the kindness of my esteemed friend E. V. Utterson, I possess one
of the sixteen struck off at his own private press, I beg to supply a
specimen or two, that will not only gratify your readers in general, but
elicit an approving verdict from MR. COLLIER himself.
For example, is not the finished cadence, as well as the nervous force,
of the following lines to Sir Ph. Sidney, greatly to be admired?
"When Nature wrought upon her mould so well,
That Nature wondred her own work to see,
When Arte so labourde Nature to excel,
And both had spent their excellence in thee;
Willing they gave thee into Fortune's hand,
Fearing they could not end what they beganne!"
In my poor judgment, those are truly noble lines. And what say you to
the following, Mr. Editor, which form a sonnet rather than an epigram?
"The world's great peers and mighty conquerours,
Whose sword hath purchased them eternal fame,
If they survived in this age of ours
Might add more glory to their lasting name.
For him which Carthage sack'd and overthrewe,
We have found out another Africa;
Newe Gauls and Germaines Cæsar might subdue,
And Pompey Great another Asia.
But you, O Christian princes, do not so;
Seeke not to conquer nations by the sworde,
Whom you may better quell and overthrowe
By winning them to Christ and to his worde.
Give Him the new worlde for old Asia's losse,
And set not up your standard, but His crosse!"
I not only challenge MR. P. COLLIER'S hearty approval of those
magnificent lines, but I would venture the expression of a doubt whether
anything finer can be produced of the same date and character.
Now take a spice of Bastard's quality as a humorist; not failing to mark
again the solemn flow and well-balanced cadence of the lines:
"You who have sorrow's hidden bottom sounded,
And felt the ground of teares and bitter moane,
You may conceive how Gilloes heart is wounded,
And judge of his deep feeling by your owne.
His toothlesse wife, when she was left for dead,
When grave and all was made--_Recovered!_"
I have other evidence as strongly favourable, but I shall not adduce it,
lest after all it be wasted on unwilling ears. But if it be the verdict
of your readers that Thomas Bastard has been unjustly forgotten, he
shall live again in your pages.