The present Anthology is intended to serve as a companion volume to the
Poetical Miscellanies published in England at the close of the sixteenth
and the beginning of the seventeenth centuries. A few of the lyrics here
collected are, it is true, included in "England's Helicon," Davison's
"Poetical Rhapsody," and "The Ph[oe]nix' Nest"; and some are to be found
in the modern collections of Oliphant, Collier, Rimbault, Mr. W.J.
Linton, Canon Hannah, and Professor Arber. But many of the poems in the
present volume are, I have every reason to believe, unknown even to
those who have made a special study of Elizabethan poetry. I have gone
carefully through all the old song-books preserved in the library of the
British Museum, and I have given extracts from two books of which there
is no copy in our national library. A first attempt of this kind must
necessarily be imperfect. Were I to go over the ground again I should
enlarge the collection, and I should hope to gain tidings of some
song-books (mentioned by bibliographers) which I have hitherto been
unable to trace.
In Elizabeth's days composers were not content to regard the words of a
song as a mere peg on which to hang the music, but sought the services
of true-born lyrists. It is not too much to say that, for delicate
perfection of form, some of the Elizabethan songs can compare with the
choicest epigrams in the Greek Anthology. At least one composer, Thomas
Campion, wrote both the words and the music of his songs; and there are
no sweeter lyrics in English poetry than are to be found in Campion's
song-books. But it may be assumed that, as a rule, the composers are
responsible only for the music.
It was in the year of the Spanish Armada, 1588, that William Byrd
published "Psalms, Sonnets, and Songs of Sadness and Piety," the first
Elizabethan song-book of importance. Few biographical particulars
concerning Byrd have come down. As he was senior chorister of St. Paul's
in 1554, he is conjectured to have been born about 1538. From 1563 to
1569 he was organist of Lincoln Cathedral. He and Tallis were granted a
patent, which must have proved fairly lucrative, for the printing of
music and the vending of music-paper. In later life he appears to have
become a convert to Romanism. His last work was published in 1611, and
he died at a ripe old age on the 24th of July, 1623. The "Psalms,
Sonnets, and Songs" are dedicated to Sir Christopher Hatton. In the
dedicatory epistle he terms the collection "this first printed work of
mine _in English_;" in 1575 he had published with Tallis "Cantiones
Sacrae." From the title one would gather that Byrd's first English
collection was mainly of a sacred character, but in an epistle to the
reader he hastens to set us right on that point:--"Benign reader, here
is offered unto thy courteous acceptance music of sundry sorts, and to
content divers humours. If thou be disposed to pray, here are psalms; if
to be merry, here are sonnets." There is, indeed, fare for all comers;
and a reader has only himself to blame if he goes away dissatisfied. In
those days, as in these, it was not uncommon for a writer to attribute
all faults, whether of omission or commission, to the luckless printer.
Byrd, on the other hand, solemnly warns us that "in the expression of
these songs either by voices or instruments, if there be any jar or
dissonance," we are not to blame the printer, who has been at the
greatest pains to secure accuracy. Then the composer makes a modest
appeal on behalf of himself, requesting those who find any fault in the
composition "either with courtesy to let the same be concealed," or "in
friendly sort" point out the errors, which shall be corrected in a
future impression. This is the proper manner of dealing between
gentlemen. His next publication was "Songs of Sundry Natures," 1589,
which was dedicated to Sir Henry Carey, who seems to have been as
staunch a patron of Byrd as his son, Sir George Carey, was of Dowland.
In 1611 appeared Byrd's last work, "Psalms, Songs, and Sonnets." The
composer must have taken to heart the precepts set down by Sir Edward
Dyer in "My mind to me a kingdom is," (printed in "Psalms, Sonnets, and
Songs") for his dedicatory epistle and his address to the reader show
him to have been a man who had laid up a large store of genial wisdom,
upon which he could draw freely in the closing days of an honourable
life. His earlier works had been well received, and in addressing "all
true lovers of music" he knew that he could rely upon their cordial
sympathy. "I am much encouraged," he writes, "to commend to you these my
last labours, for mine _ultimum vale_;" and then follows a piece of
friendly counsel: "Only this I desire, that you will be as careful to
hear them well expressed, as I have been both in the composing and
correcting of them. Otherwise the best song that ever was made will seem
harsh and unpleasant; for that the well expressing of them either by
voices or instruments is the life of our labours, which is seldom or
never well performed at the first singing or playing."
No musician of the Elizabethan age was more famous than John Dowland,
whose "heavenly touch upon the lute" was commended in a well-known
sonnet (long attributed to Shakespeare) by Richard Barnfield. Dowland
was born at Westminster in 1562. At the age of twenty, or thereabouts,
he started on his travels; and, after rambling through "the chiefest
parts of France, a nation furnished with great variety of music," he
bent his course "towards the famous province of Germany," where he found
"both excellent masters and most honourable patrons of music." In the
course of his travels he visited Venice, Padua, Genoa, Ferrara, and
Florence, gaining applause everywhere by his musical skill. On his
return to England he took his degree at Oxford, as Bachelor of Music, in
1588. In 1597 he published "The First Book of Songs or Airs of four
parts, with Tableture for the Lute." Prefixed is a dedicatory epistle to
Sir George Carey (second Lord Hunsdon), in which the composer alludes
gracefully to the kindness he had received from Lady Elizabeth Carey,
the patroness of Spenser. A "Second Book of Songs or Airs" was published
in 1600, when the composer was at the Danish Court, serving as lutenist
to King Christian the Fourth. The work was dedicated to the famous
Countess of Bedford, whom Ben Jonson immortalized in a noble sonnet.
From a curious address to the reader by George Eastland, the publisher,
it would appear that in spite of Dowland's high reputation the sale of
his works was not very profitable. "If the consideration of mine own
estate," writes Eastland, "or the true worth of money, had prevailed
with me above the desire of pleasing you and showing my love to my
friends, these second labours of Master Dowland--whose very name is a
large preface of commendation to the book--had for ever lain hid in
darkness, or at the least frozen in a cold and foreign country." The
expenses of publication were heavy, but he consoled himself with the
thought that his high-spirited enterprise would be appreciated by a
select audience. In 1603 appeared "The Third and Last Book of Songs or
Airs;" and, in 1612, when he was acting as lutenist to Lord Walden,
Dowland issued his last work, "A Pilgrime's Solace." He is supposed to
have died about 1615, leaving a son, Robert Dowland, who gained some
fame as a composer. Modern critics have judged that Dowland's music was
somewhat overrated by his contemporaries, and that he is wanting in
variety and originality. Whether these critics are right or wrong, it
would be difficult to overrate the poetry. In attempting to select
representative lyrics one is embarrassed by the wealth of material. The
rich clusters of golden verse hang so temptingly that it is difficult to
cease plucking when once we have begun.
In his charming collection of "Rare Poems" Mr. Linton quotes freely from
the song-books of Byrd and Dowland, but gives only one lyric of Dr.
Thomas Campion. As Mr. Linton is an excellent judge of poetry, I can
only suppose that he had no wide acquaintance with Campion's writings,
when he put together his dainty Anthology. There is clear evidence[1]
that Campion wrote not only the music but the words for his songs--that
he was at once an eminent composer and a lyric poet of the first rank.
He published a volume of Latin verse, which displays ease and fluency
(though the prosody is occasionally erratic); as a masque-writer he was
inferior only to Ben Jonson; he was the author of treatises on the arts
of music and poetry; and he practised as a physician. It would be
interesting to ascertain some facts about the life of this
highly-gifted man; but hitherto little information has been collected.
The Oxford historian, good old Anthony-a-Wood, went altogether wrong and
confused our Thomas Campion with another person of the same name who
took his degree in 1624--five years after the poet's death. It is
probable that our Thomas Campion was the second son of Thomas Campion of
Witham, Essex, and that he was distantly related to Edmund Campion the
famous Jesuit. His first work was his "Epigrammatum Libri duo,"
published in 1595, and republished in 1619. The first edition is
exceedingly rare; there is no copy in the British Museum. Francis Meres,
in his very valuable (and very tedious) "Wit's Treasury," 1598, mentions
Campion among the "English men, being Latin poets," who had "attained
good report and honorable advancement in the Latin empire." In 1601
Campion and Philip Rosseter published jointly "A Book of Airs." The
music was partly written by Campion and partly by Rosseter; but the
whole of the poetry may be safely assigned to Campion. From a dedicatory
epistle, by Rosseter, to Sir Thomas Monson, we learn that Campion's
songs, "made at his vacant hours and privately imparted to his friends,"
had been passed from hand to hand and had suffered from the carelessness
of successive transcribers. Some impudent persons, we are told, had
"unrespectively challenged" (_i.e._ claimed) the credit both of the
music and the poetry. The address _To the Reader_, which follows the
dedicatory epistle, is unsigned, but appears to have been written by
Campion. "What epigrams are in poetry," it begins, "the same are airs in
music: then in their chief perfection when they are short and well
seasoned. But to clog a light song with a long preludium is to corrupt
the nature of it. Many rests in music were invented either for necessity
of the fugue, or granted as an harmonical licence in songs of many
parts; but in airs I find no use they have, unless it be to make a
vulgar and trivial modulation seem to the ignorant strange, and to the
judicial tedious." It is among the curiosities of literature that this
true poet, who had so exquisite a sense of form, and whose lyrics are
frequently triumphs of metrical skill, should have published a work
(entitled "Observations in the Art of English Poesy") to prove that the
use of rhyme ought to be discontinued, and that English metres should be
fashioned after classical models. "Poesy," he writes, "in all kind of
speaking is the chief beginner and maintainer of eloquence, not only
helping the ear with the acquaintance of sweet numbers, but also raising
the mind to a more high and lofty conceit. For this end have I studied
to induce a true form of versifying into our language; for the vulgar
and artificial custom of rhyming hath, I know, deterr'd many excellent
wits from the exercise of English poesy." The work was published in
1602, the year after he had issued the first collection of his charming
lyrics. It was in answer to Campion that Samuel Daniel wrote his
"Defence of Rhyme" (1603), one of the ablest critical treatises in the
English language. Daniel was puzzled, as well he might be, that an
attack on rhyme should have been made by one "whose commendable rhymes,
albeit now himself an enemy to rhyme, have given heretofore to the world
the best notice of his worth." It is pleasant to find Daniel testifying
to the fact that Campion was "a man of fair parts and good reputation."
Ben Jonson, as we are informed by Drummond of Hawthornden, wrote "a
Discourse of Poesy both against Campion and Daniel;" but the discourse
was never published. In his "Observations" Campion gives us a few
specimen-poems written in the unrhymed metres that he proposed to
introduce. The following verses are the least objectionable that I can
find:--
"Just beguiler,
Kindest love yet only chastest,
Royal in thy smooth denials,
Frowning or demurely smiling,
Still my pure delight.
Let me view thee
With thoughts and with eyes affected,
And if then the flames do murmur,
Quench them with thy virtue, charm them
With thy stormy brows.
Heaven so cheerful
Laughs not ever; hoary winter
Knows his season, even the freshest
Summer morns from angry thunder
Yet not still secure."
There is artful ease and the touch of a poet's hand in those verses; but
the Muses shield us from such innovations! Campion's second collection,
"Two Books of Airs," is undated; but, from an allusion to the death of
Prince Henry, we may conclude that it was published about the year 1613.
The first book consists of "Divine and Moral Songs" and the second of
"light conceits of lovers." In dealing with sacred themes, particularly
when they venture on paraphrases of the Psalms, our poets seldom do
themselves justice; but I claim for Campion that he is neither stiff nor
awkward. Henry Vaughan is the one English poet whose devotional fervour
found the highest lyrical expression; and Campion's impassioned poem
"Awake, awake, thou heavy sprite!" (p. 6) is not unworthy of the great
Silurist. Among the sacred verses are some lines ("Jack and Joan they
think no ill," p. 61) in praise of a contented countryman and his good
wife. A sweeter example of an old pastoral lyric could nowhere be found,
not even in the pages of Nicholas Breton. The "Third and Fourth Books of
Airs" are also undated, but they were probably published in 1613. In
this collection, where all is good, my favourite is "Now winter nights
enlarge" (p. 90). Others may prefer the melodious serenade, worthy even
of Shelley, "Shall I come, sweet love, to thee" (p. 100). But there is
one poem of Campion (printed in the collection of 1601) which, for
strange richness of romantic beauty, could hardly be matched outside the
sonnets of Shakespeare:--
"When thou must home to shades of underground,
And there arrived, a new admired guest,
The beauteous spirits do engirt thee round,
White Iope, blithe Helen, and the rest,
To hear the stories of thy finish'd love
From that smooth tongue whose music hell can move:
Then wilt thou speak of banqueting delights,
Of masques and revels which sweet youth did make,
Of tourneys and great challenges of knights,
And all these triumphs for thy beauty sake:
When thou hast told these honours done to thee,
Then tell, O tell, how thou didst murder me!"