XVII.

OLD TOM OF BEDLAM.

MAD SONG THE FIRST.

It is worth attention, that the English have more fongs and ballads on the fubject of madness, than any of their neighbours. Whether there be any truth in the infinuation, that we are more liable to this calamity than other nations, or that our native gloominess hath peculiarly recommended Jubjects of this caft to our writers; we certainly do not find the fame in the printed collections of French, Italian Songs, &c.

Out of a much larger quantity, we have selected half a dozen MAD SONGS for thefe volumes. The three first are originals in their respective kinds; the merit of the three laft is chiefly that of imitation. They were written at confiderable intervals of time; but we have here grouped them together, that the reader may the better examine their comparative merits. He may confider them as fo many trials of Skill in a very peculiar fubject, as the conteft of fo many rivals to fhcot in the bow of Ulyffes. The two firft were probably written about the beginning of the last century; the third about the middle of it; the fourth and fixth towards the end; and the fifth within this prefent 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 fong

a fong in praife of angling, which the author fays was made at his request by Mr. WILLIAM BASSE, one that has "made the choice fongs 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.

NORTH from my fad and darkfome cell,

Or from the deepe abyffe of hell,

Mad Tom is come into the world againe
To fee if he can cure his distempered braine.

Feares and cares oppreffe my foule;
Harke, howe the angrye Fureys houle!
Pluto laughes, and Proferpine is gladd
To fee poore naked Tom of Bedlam madd.

Through the world I wander night and day
To feeke my straggling fenfes,

In an angrye moode I mett old Time,

With his pentarchye of tenses:

When me he spyed,

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Harke! I heare Apollo's teame,

The carman 'gins to whistle;
Chaft Diana bends her bowe,
The boare begins to bristle.

Come, Vulcan, with tools and with tackles,
To knocke off my troublesome shackles;
Bid Charles make ready his waine

To fetch me my fenfes againe.

Last night I heard the dog-ftar bark;
Mars met Venus in the darke;
Limping Vulcan het an iron barr,
And furiouslye made at the god of war ;

Mars with his weapon laid about,

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330

But Vulcan's temples had the gout,

For his broad horns did fo hang in his light,

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He could not fee to aim his blowes aright:

Mercurye the nimble post of heaven,
Stood fill to fee the quarrell;

Gorrel-bellyed Bacchus, gyant-like,

J

Beftryd a strong-beere barrell.

To mee he dranke,

I did him thanke,

But I could get no cyder ;

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He

was written about the beginning of the feventeenth 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.

MI mad, O noble Feftus,

When zeal and godly knowledge

Have put me in hope

To deal with the pope,

As well as the beft in the college?

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Boldly I preach, hate a crofs, hate a furplice,
Mitres, copes, and rochets;

Come hear me pray nine times a day,

And fill your heads with crochets.

In the house of pure Emanuel *
I had my education,

Where my friends furmise

I dazel'd my eyes

With the fight of revelation.
Boldly I preach, &c.

They bound me like a bedlam,

They lafh'd my four poor quarters;

Whilft this I endure,

Faith makes me fure

To be one of Foxes martyrs,

Boldly I preach, &c.

These injuries I fuffer

Through antichrift's perfwafion :

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Emanuel college Cambridge was originally a feminary of Puritans.

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Take