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In the first edition of this book were inferted, by way of fpecimen of his majefty's poetic talents, fome Punning Verfes made on the difputations at Sterling: but it having been fuggefted to the editor, that the king only gave the

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quibbling

quibbling commendations in profe, and that fome obfequious court-rhymer put them into metre *; it was thought proper to exchange them for two SONNETS of K. James's own compofition. James was a great verfifier, and therefore out of the multitude of his poems, we have here felected two, which (to fhew our impartiality) are written in his beft and his worst manner. The firft would not dishonour any writer of that time; the fecond is a moft complete example of the Bathos.

A SONNET ADDRESSED BY KING JAMES TO HIS SON PRINCE HENRY:

From K. James's works in folio: Where is also printed another called his Majefty's own Sonnet; it would perhaps be too cruel to infer from thence that this was NOT his Majefty's own Sonnet.

OD gives not kings the ftile of Gods in vaine,

GOD

For on his throne his fcepter do they fwey:

And as their fubjects ought them to obey,

So kings fhould feare and serve their God againe.

If then ye would enjoy a happie reigne,
Obferve the ftatutes of our heavenly king;
And from his law make all your laws to fpring;
Since his lieutenant here ye fhould remaine.

Rewarde the juft, be stedfaft, true and plaine;
Repreile the proud, maintayning aye the right;
Wake always fo, as ever in His fight,
Who guardes the godly, plaguing the prophane.

* See a folio intitled "The Mufes welcome to King James,”

And

And fo ye fhall in princely vertues shine,
Refembling right your mightie king divine.

A SONNET OCCASIONED BY THE BAD WEATHER WHICH HINDRED THE SPORTS AT NEWMARKET IN JANUARY 1616.

This is printed from Drummond of Hawthornden's works, folio: where alfo may be seen some verfes of Lord Stirling's upon this Sonnet, which concludes with the finest Anticlimax I remember to have feen.

OW cruelly thefe catives do confpire?

HOW

What loathfome love breeds fuch a baleful band

Betwixt the cankred king of Creta land *,

That melancholy old and angry fire,

And him, who wont to quench debate and ire

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Among the Romans, when his ports were clos'd †? But now his double face is still difpos'd,

With Saturn's help, to freeze us at the fire.

The earth ore-covered with a fheet of snow, Refufes food to fowl, to bird, and beast:

The chilling cold lets every thing to grow, And furfeits cattle with a ftarving feaft.

Curs'd be that love and mought continue fhort, Which kills all creatures, and doth spoil our sport.

10

* Saturn.

+ Fanus.

i.e. may it.

VI.

K. JOHN AND THE ABBOT OF CANTERBURY.

66

The common popular ballad of KING JOHN AND THE ABBOT feem to have been abridged and modernized about the time of James I. from one much older, intitled, “ KING "JOHN AND THE BISHOP OF CANTERBURY." The Editor's folio MS. contains a copy of this last, but in too corrupt a ftate to be reprinted; it however afforded many lines worth reviving, which will be found inferted in the enfuing flanzas.

The archnefs of the following queftions and anfwers bath been much admired by our old ballad-makers; for befides the two copies above mentioned, there is extant another ballad on the fame fubject (but of no great antiquity or merit), intitled, "KING OLFREY AND THE ABBOT *" Laftly, about the time of the civil wars, when the cry ran against the Bishops, fome Puritan worked up the fame fory into a very deleful ditty, to a folemn tune, concerning "KING HENRY AND A BISHOP," with this flinging moral:

"Unlearned men hard matters out can find,
"When learned bishops princes eyes do blind."

* See the collection of Hift. Ballads, 3 vols. 1727. Mr. Wife fup pofes OLFREY to be a corruption of ALFRED, in his pamphlet concerning the WHITE HORSE in Berkshire, p. 15.

The

The following is chiefly printed from an ancient blackletter copy, to The tune of Derry down."

A

N ancient story Ile tell you anon

Of a notable prince, that was called king John; And he ruled England with maine and with might, For he did great wrong, and maintein'd little right.

And Ile tell you a story, a story so merrye,
Concerning the Abbot of Canterbùrye;
How for his houfe-keeping, and high renowne,
They rode poste for him to fair London towne.

An hundred men, the king did heare fay,
The abbot kept in his house every day ;
And fifty golde chaynes, without any doubt,
In velvet coates waited the abbot about.

How now, father abbot, I heare it of thee,
Thou keepest a farre better house than mee,
And for thy houfe-keeping and high renowne,
I feare thou work'st treason against my crown.

My liege, quo' the abbot, I would it were knowne,
I never spend nothing, but what is my owne;
And I truff, your grace will doe me no deere,
For fpending of my owne true-gotten geere.

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