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Behynd hyme five-and-twentye moe

1" So lett hym die!" Duke Richard sayde; Of archers stronge and stoute,

“And maye echone our foes With bended bowe echone ynne hande, “ Bende downe theyre neckes to bloudie exe, Marched ynne goodlie route :

“ And feede the carryon crowes." Seincte Jameses Freers marched next, ::

| And now the horses gentlie drewe Echone hys parte dydd chaunt;

Syr Charles uppe the hyghe hylle! Behynde theyre backs syx mynstrelles came,

The exe dycid glisterr ynne the sunne, Who tun'd the strunge bataunt:

Hys precious bloude to spylle. Thenne came the imaior and elderınenne,

Syr Charles dydd uppe the scaffold goe, Ynnc cloche of scarlett deckt;

As uppe a gilded carre

Of victorye, bye val'rous chiefs And theyre attendyng mennc echone,

Gain'd in the bloudie warre : Lyke Easterne princes trickt :

And to the people hoe dydd saie And after them a multitude

“ Beholde you see mee dye Of citizens dydd thronge ;

" For servynge loyally mye kynge, The wyndowes were all full of heddes,

“Mye kynge most rightfullie. As hce dydd passe alonge.

“ As longe as Edwarde rules thys lande, And whenne hee came to the hyghe crosse, | “Ne quiet you wylle knowe; Syr Charles dydd turne and saie,

" Your sonnes and husbandes shall be slayne, " ( Thou, thait savest manne fromme synne, And brookes withe bloude shalle flowe.

“ Wash mage soulc clean thys daye.” “ Yon leave youre goode and lawfulle kynge, Alt the grete mynster windowe sat

" Whenne ynne adversitye; The kynge ynn mycle state,

“ Lyke mee, unloe the true cause otycke, To see Charles Bawdin goe alonge

" And for the true cause dye." To hys most welcom fate.

Thenne hee, wyth preestes, uponne his knees, Soon as the sledde drewe nygh enowe,

A pray'r to Godde dydd make, Thatt Edwarde hee myghte heare,

Beseechynge hym unto hymselfe The brave Ser Charles hee dydd stande uppe,

Hys pariynge soule to take. And thus hys wordes declare :

Then kneelynge downe, he layd hys heede

Most seemlie onne the blocke " Thou seest mee, Edwarde ! tragtous vile! Whyche fromme hys bodie fayre at once “ Expos'd to infantie;

The able heddes-manne stroke!. " But be assured, dislosall manne! "I'm greaterr nowe thanne thee.

And oute the bloude beganne to flowe,

And rounde the scaffolde twyne; "Bye foule proceedyngs, murdre, bloude, And tears, cnow to washe 't awaie, “Thou wearest nowe a crowne,

Dydd flowe fromme each mann's egne. “And hast appoynted mce to dye,

The bloudie exe hys bodie fayre “ By power not thyne owne.

Yanto foure parties cutte; “Thou thynkest I shall dye to-daie;

And ev'rye parte, and eke hys hedde “ I have beenc dede, till nowe,

Upon a pole was putte. " And soon shall lyve to weare a crowne One parte dydd rotte onne Kynwulph-hylle, " For aie uponne my browe :

Ouie onné the mynster-tower, "Whylst thou, perhapps for some few yeares,

| And one from off the castle-gate “Shalt rule thys fickle lande

The crowen dydd devoure : " To lett them knowe howe wyde the rule

The other onne Seyncte Puwle's goode gate, "Twixt kynge and tyrant hande: .

A dreery spectacle; “Thye pow'r unjust, thou traytour slave!,

His hedde was plac'd onne the hygh crosse, “Shall falle onne thy owne hedde."

Ynne byghe-streete most nobile. Fromm out of hearyng of the kynge .

Thus was the end of Bawdin's fate; Departed thenne ihe sledde.

Godde prosper long our kynge, Kynge Edwarde's soule rush'd to hys face;

And grani hce may, wyth Bawdin's soule, Hee turn'd hys head awaie,

Ynne heaven Godd's mercie synge!
And to hys broder Gloucester
Hee thus dydd speke and saie :

1$ 90. The Mynstrelles Songe in Ælla, a Tra.

1 gycal Enterlude. CHATTERTON, &c. ! "To him that soe-much-dreaded dethe . JO! SYNGE untoe my roundelaie, "Ne ghastlie terrors brynge,

0! droppe the brynie teare wythe mee, "Beholde the manne! bee spake the truthe, Daunce ne mne aite hallie daie, "Hee's greater than a kynge!

I Lycke a reynynge (a) syver bee.

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Mie love ys dedde,

$91. Chorus in Goddwyn, a Tragedie. Goune to bys deathe-bedde,

CHATTERTO, &c. Al under the wyllowe-tree.

W'han Freedom, dreste yn blodde-steyned Black hys cryne (l) as the wyatere nyght,

veste, Whyte hys rode (C) as the sommer snowe,

To cverie knyghte her warre-songe sunge, Rodde hys face as the moruynge lyghte,

Uponne her hedde wylde wedes were spredde; Cale he lyes ynne the grave belowe.

A gorie anlace by her hange.

. Mie love ys dedde,

She daunced onne the heathe;
Gonne to hys deathe-bedde, '.

. She hearde the voice of deathe; . Al under the wyllowe tree.

Pale-cyned Affryghte, hyo harte of silver bine, Swote hys tongue as the throstles note,

In vayne assaylede) her bosom to acale();[woe, Quyckc ynne daunce as thought cann bee, She hearde onfleined (g) the shriekynge voice of Defte his taboure, codgelle stole,

And sadnesse yone the owlette shake ihe dale, O! hee lys bie the wyllowe-tree.

She shooke the burler (h) speere, Mie love ys deede,

On hie she jeste (0) her sheelde,
Gonne to hys deathe-belde,

Her foemen (j) all appere,
Al under the wyllowe-tree.

And flizze (k) along the feelde. Harke! the ravenne flappes hys wynge,

Power, wythe his heafod (1) straught (m) ynto In the briered dell belowe;

the skyes,

starre. Harke! the dethe-owle loude dothe synge,

Hys speere a sonne-beame, and hys shielde a To the nvghte-mares as theie goe.

Alyche (n) twaie () brendeyng (P) gron. Mie love ys dedde,

fyres (9) rolls hys cyes, (to war. Gone to hrs deathe-bedde,

Chaftes (r) with hys yronne feete, and soundcs Al under the wyllowe-tree.

She syttes upon a rocke,

She bendes before hys speere Sce! the whyte moone shcenes onne hie;

She ryses from the shocke, Whyterre ys mie true loves shroude;

Wieldyng her own yn ayre. Whyterre yanne the mornynge skie,

Harde as the thonder dothe she drive ytte on, Whyterre yanne the evenynge cloude.

Wytte scillye (s) wympled (t) gies (u) ytte to Mic love ys dedde,

hys crowne,

(ys gan, Gonne to hys deathe-bedde,

Hys longe sharpe speere, his spreddyng sheelle Al under the wyllowe-tree.

He falles, and fallynge rolleth ihousandes down. Heere, upon nie true loves grave,

War, goare-faced war, bie envie burld (a), Schalle the baren fleurs be layde,

arist (y), Ne one hallie scyuctc to save

Hys feerie heaulme (2) noddynge to the ayte, Al the celness of a mayde,

.. |Tenne bloddie arrowes ynne hysstreynynge fyt.
Miie love ys dedde,
Gonne to his deathe-bedde,
Al under the wyllowe-tree.

$94. Grongar Hill. Dyer, Withe mie hondes I 'll dent the brieres.

Silent Nymph! with curious cye,
Rounde hys hallie corse to gre,
Ouphanie fairie, lyghtc your fyres,

Who, the purple evening, lje

On the mountain's lonely van,
Hecre mie boddie stille schalle bee.

Beyond the noise of busy man,
Mie love ys dedde,

Painting fair the form of things,
Gonne to hy's deathe-bedde,
Al under the wyllowe-tree.

While the yellow linnet sings;

Or the tuneful nightingale Comme, wythe acorne-coppe and thorne,

Charms the forest with her tale ; Drayne my hartys blodde awaie ;

Come, with all thy various hues, Lyfe and all yttes goode I scorne,

Coine, and aid thy sister Muse.
Daunce bie nete, or feaste by daic.

Now, while Phæhus riding high, '
Mie love ys dedele,

Gives lustre to the land and sky,
Gonne to hys deathe-bedde,

Grongar Hill invites my song, . Al under the wyllowe-tree.

| Draw the landscape bright and strong; Water wytches, crownede wythe reytes (d), Grongar! in whose mossy cells, Bere mce to yer leathalle tyde.

Sweetly musing Quiet dwells; I die, I conime ; mie true love waytes.. !

Grougar! in whose silent shade, Thos the damselle spake, and dyed."

For the modest Muses made, (b) Hair. (h) Armed, pointed. (n) Like.

(1) Mantled, corerede (c) Complexion. (i)Hoisted on high,raised.(0) Two.

(u) Guides. (d) Water-flags.. () Foes, enemies." (p) Flaming.

(1) Armed. (C) Endeavoured... k) Fly...? * ) Meteors.

(y) Arose. (1) Freeze. .(1) Head.

(1) Beats, stamps, (7) Helmet, (g) Undismayed, (m) Stretched. . ) Closely,

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So oft I have, the evening still,

Yet time has seen, that lifts the low, As the fountain of a rill,

And level lays the lofty brow, Sat upon a flow'ry bed,

Has seen this broken pile complete,
With my haud beneath my head,

Big with the vanity of state :
While stray'd my eyes o'er Towy's flood, But transient is the smile of Fate !
Over mead and over wood,

A little rule, a little sway,
From house to house, from hill to hill,

A suu-beam in a winter's day, Till contemplation had her fill.

Is all the proud and mighty have About his chequer'd sides I wind,

Between the cradle and the grave. And leave his brooks and meads behind ;

And see the rivers, how they run And groves and grottos, where I lay,

Thro' woods and meads, in shade and sun ! And vistas shooting beams of day.

Sometimes swift, sometimes slow, Wide and wider spreads the vale,

Wave succeedingwave, they go, As circles on a smooth canal :

A various journey to the deep, The mountains round, unhappy fate!

Like human life to endless sleep! -Sooner or later, of all height,

Thus is Nature's vexture wrought, Withdraw their summits from the skies, | To instruct our wand'ring thought, And lessen as the others rise.

Thus she dresses green and gay, Still the prospect wider spreads,

To disperse our cares away. Adds a thousand woods and meads;

Ever charming, ever new, Srill it widens, widens still,

When will the landscape tire the view ! And sinks the newly-risen hill.

The fountain's fall, the river's flow, Now I gain the mountain's brow;

The woody vallies, warm and low; What a landscape lies below!

The windy summit, wild and high, No clouds, no vapors, intervene ;

Roughly rushing on the sky! ! But the gay, the open scene

The pleasant seat, the ruin'd tow'r, Does the face of Nature show

The naked rock, the shady bow'r ; In all the hucs of heaven's bow;

The town and village, dome and farm, And, swelling to einbrace the light,

Each give each a double charm, Spreads around beneath the sight.

As pearls upon an Ethiop's arm. - Old castles on the clits arise,

See on the mountain's southern side, Proudly low'ring in the skies;

Where the prospect opens wide, Rushing from the woods, the spires

Where the evening gilds the tide, Seem from hence ascending fires :

How close and small the hedges lie! Half his beams Apollo sheds

What streaks of meadows cross the eye! On the yellow mountain heads,

A step, methinks may pass the strcam, Gilds the fleeces of the Aocks,

So little distant dangers seem : And glitters on the broken rocks.

So we mistake the future's face, Below me trees unaumber'd rise,

Ey'd through Hope's deluding glass Beautiful in various dyes :

As yon sumınits soft and fair, The gloomy pine, the poplar blue,

Clad in colors of the air, The yellow beech, the sable yew :

Which, to those who journey near, The slender fir that taper groivs,

Barren, brown, and rough appear; The sturdy oak with broad spread boughs ;

Still we tread the same coarse way;
And, beyond the purple grove,

The present 's still a cloudy day.
Haunt of Phillis, queen of love!
Gaudy as the op'ning dawn,

may I with myself agree, Lies á long and level lawn,

And never covet what I see! On which a dark hill, steep and high,

Content me with a humble shade, Holds and charms the wand'ring eye.

My passions tam'd, my wishes laid :

For while our wishes wildly roll, Deep are his feet in Towy's flood;

We banish quiet from the soul : His sides are cloth'd with waving wood;

1 'Tis thus the busy beat the air, And ansient towers crown his brow, That cast an awful lowk below;

And misers gather wcalth and care. Whose ragged walls the ivy creeps,

Now, e'en now, my joys run high, And with her arms from falling keeps :

As on the mountain turf I lie; So both in safety from the wind

While the wanton Zephyr sings, On mutual dependence find.

And in the vale perfuines his wings; "Tis now the raven's bleak abode,

While the waters murmur deep; 'Tis now th' apartment of the toad ;

While the shepherd charins his shecp; And there the fox securely feeds,

While the birds unbounded fly, And there the pois nous adder breeds,

U And with music fill the sky, Conceald in ruins, moss, and weeds;

Now, een now, my joys run high. While, ever and anon, there falls

Be fall, yc courts! be great who will; Huge heaps of houry inoulder'd walls.

| Scarch for peace with all your skill;


Open wide the lofty door,'

Nor by son fountain's side, Seek her on the marble floor :

Nor where its walers glide In vain ye search, she is not there ;

Along the valley, can she now be found : lu vain ye search the dome, of Care!

In all the wide-stretch'd prospects ample Grass and Aower Quiet treads,

No more iny mournful eye bound, On the meads and inventain-heads,

Can aught of her espy, Along with Pleasure close allied,

| But the sad sacred carth where her dear relies lie. Ever by each other's side; And olien, by the murm'rinig rill,

O shades of Hagley, where is now your boast? Hlears the thrush, while all is still,

Your bright inhabitant is lost.
Within the groves of Grongar Hill,

You she preferr'd to all the gay resorts
Where female vanity might wish to shine,

The porap of cities, and ihe pride of courts. 8 9.3. A Monody on the Death of his Lady.

Her imodest beauties shunn'd the public eye: By GEORGE LORD LYTTLETOX.

To your sequester'd dales, "Ipse cava solans ægrum testudine amorem,

And Aower-embruider'd rales, c'ie, dulcis, conjux, te solo in littore secum, From an admiring world she close to fif.

· Te veniente die, te decedente canebat.' With Nature there retir'd, and Nature's God, Ar length escap'd from ev'ry human eye,

The silent paths of wisdom trod, From ev'ry duty, ev'ry care,


And banish d every passion from her breast; That in niy mournful thoughts might claim a

But those, the gentlest and the best, Or force my tears their flowing stream to dry;

Whosc boly flames with energy divine Beneath the gloom of this embow'ring shade,

The virtuous heart enliven and improve, This lone retreat for tender sorrow inade,

The conjugal and the maternal love. I now may give my burthen'd heart relief,

Sweet babes! who like the little playful fawns, And pour forth all my stores of grief;

Where wont to trip along these verdant Of grief surpassing erery other woe,

By your delighted mother's side, [lawns, Far as the purest bliss, the happiest love,

Ilho now your infant steps shall guide? Can on the ennoblid mind bestow,

Ah! where is now thehand, whose tender care, Exceeds the vulzar joys that move

Toevery virtue would have forin'd vour youth, Our gross desires, inelegant and low.

And strew'd with flow'rs the thorny ways of Ye tufted groves, ye gently-falling rills,

truih? Ye highi o'ershadowing hills,

O loss beyond repair! Ye lawns gay-smiling with eternal green,

O wretched father ! left alone, Oft have you my Lucy seen!

To weep their dire misfortune, and thy own! But never shall you now behold her more: How shall thy weaken'd mind, oppress'd with Nor will she now, with fond delight,

· And, drooping o'er thy Lucy's grave, (woe, And laste retind, your rural charms explore.

Perform the duties that you doubly owe, Clos'd are those beauteous eyes in endless night, Now, she, alas! is gone, 'Thosebeauteouseyes, wherebeaming us'd toshine. Fromsollyandfrom vice their helpless age to save! Reason's pure light, and Virtue's spark divine. Oft would the Dryads of these woods rejoice

Where were re, Muses, when relentless Fate

1. From these fond arms your fair disciple tort; To hear her heavenly voice;

From these fond arms, that rainly strore For her despising, when she deigned to sing, I

With hapless ineffectual love,
The sweetest songsters of the spring;
The woodlark and the linnet pleas'd no more:

Tu guard her bosom from the mortal blow!
The nightingale was mule,

Could not your favoring pow'r, Aõnian And ev'ry shepherd's flute

maids, Was cast in silent scorn away,

Couldnot,alas! your power prolong her date; While all attended to her sweeter lay.

For whom so oft, in these inspiring shades, Ye larks and linnets, now resume your song: /

Or under Camden'smoss-cladmountains hoar,
And thou, melodious Philomel,

You open'd all your sacred store ;
Again thy plaintive story tell ;

Whate'er your antient sages taught,
For death has stopp'd that tuneful tongue,

Your antient bards sublimcly thought Whose music could alonc your warbling notes And bade.

es! And bade her raptur'd brcast with all your

spirit glow? In vain I look around,

[excel. O'er all the well-known ground,

Nor then did Pindus or Castalia's plain, My Lucy's wonted footsteps to descry : Or Aganippe's fount, your steps detain, Where oft we us'd to walk ;

Nor in the Thespian valleys did you play; Where oft in tender talk

Nor then on Mincio's • bank We saw the summer sun go down the sky; I' Beset with osier's dank,

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Nor where Clicumnus * rolls his gentle To every want, and every woe,' strearl),

To guili itselt when in distress, 'Nor where, thirough hanging woods, The balm of pity would impart; Steep Anio † pours his floods,

Aod all relief that bounty could bestow! " Nor yet where Veles 1 or llissus S stray. Een for the kid or lamb, that pour'd its lif Ill does it now beseem,

Beneath the bloody kuife, That, of your guardian care bereft,

Her genile tears would fall; sto all. To dire closease and death your darling should Tests, froin sicet Virtue's source, benevolent be lefi.

Not only good and kind,
Now what avails it, that in early bloom, But strong and elevated was her mind!
When light fantastic toy's .

A spirit that with noble pride
Are all her sex's joys,

Could look superior down With you she search'd the wit' of Greece . On Fortune's smile or frown; and Rome;

That coull, without regret or pain,
And all that in her latter days,

To Virtue's lowest duty sacrifice
To emulate her anvient praise,

Or Interest or Anbition's highest prize :
Italia's happy genius could produce; That, injur'd or offended, never tricd
Or what the Gallic fire

Its dignity by vengeance to maintain,
Bright sparkling could inspire,

But by inagnaninous disdain,
By all the Graces temper'd and refind; A wit that, temperately bright,
Or what, in Britain's isle,

Hith inpffensive light
Most favor'd with your smile,

All pleasing shone ; nor ever pass'd The pow’rs of Reason and of Fancy join'd The decent hounds that Wisdom's sober hand, 'To full perfection have conspird to raise ? And sweet Benevolence's mild command, ! Ah! what is now the use

And bashful Modesty, before it cast. Of all diose treasures that enrich'd her inind, A prudence undeceiving, undeceiv'), ** To black Oblivion's glooin for ever rrow con That nor too little nor tow much believ'd; sign'd!

That scorn'd unjust Suspicion's coward fear, At least, ye Nine, her spotless name

And, without weakness, knew to be sincere. . "Tis yours from death to save,''

Such Lucy was, when in her fairest days, And in the temple of immortal Fame Amidst th' acclaim of universal praise. With golden characters her worth cigrave. In life's and glory's freshest bloom, stomb.

Come then, ye virgin sisters, come, Death came remorseless on, and sunk her to the And strew with choicest flow're her hal So, where the silent streams of Liris glide, low'd tomb ;

In the soft bosom of Campania's vale, But foremost thou, in sable vestment clad, When now the wintry teinpests all are Aed,

With accents sweet and sad, surn And genial summer breathes her genıle gale, Thou plaintive Muse, whom oler bis Laura's The verdant orange lifts its beautevus head;

Unhappy Petrarch callid to mourn; From ev'ry, branch the balmy flow'rets rise,

O come, and to this fairer Laura pay . On ev'ry bough the golden fruits are seen; A more impassion'd tear, a more pathetic lay! With cdors sweet it fills the smiling skies,

Tell how each beauty of her inind and face The wood-nyenphis tend it, and th' Italian Was brighten'd by some sweet peculiar queen: - How eloquent in ev'ry look (grace!

But, in the midst of all its blooming pride, Thro' her expressive cyes hier soul distinctly

A sudden blast froin Apenninus blows, spoke!

Cold with perpetual snows; (and dies. Tell how her manners, by the world refinid, | The tender brighted plant shrinks up its leaves, Left all the tajnt of modish vicc behind, Arise, O Petrarch! from th' Elysian bow'rs, And make cach charın of polish'd courts. With never-fading myrtles twind, With candid Truth's siinplicity, (agree And fragrant with anvrosial flow'rs, And unsorrupted Inocence !

Where to thy Laura thou agaita art join'd; Tell how to more than manly sense!! Arise, and lither bring the silver lyre, She join'd the soft'ning influence

Tuo'd by thy skilful hand. Of inore than feinale tenderness: 31** * To the sofi noies of elegant desire, How, in the thoughtless daysef wealth and joy, With which 'o'er many a land Which oft the care of others' good destroy | Was spread the fame of the disast'rous lore; - Per kindly.melting hari, ,

To me resizn the rocai shell, The Clitumnus is a river of Umbria, the residence of Propertius. * The Anio run's Through Tibur or Tivoli, where Horace had a villa,

Tiré Meles is a river of lonia, trórn bezice Homer, supposed to be born on its banks, is called Mellisigenes. · The Wisus is a river at 'Athéns, 1980 1971,

. . And

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