THE HISTORY OF ENGLISH POETRY, FROM THE CLOSE of the ELEVENTH TO THE COMMENCEMENT of the EIGHTEENTH CENTURY. TO WHICH ARE PREFIXED TWO DISSERTATIONS. I. ON THE ORIGIN OF ROMANTIC FICTION IN EUROPE. II. ON THE INTRODUCTION OF LEARNING INTO ENGLAND.

VOL. III.

TO THIS VOLUME IS PREFIXED A THIRD DISSERTATION ON THE GESTA ROMANORUM.

By THOMAS WARTON, B. D. FELLOW of TRINITY COLLEGE, OXFORD, and of the SOCIETY of ANTIQUARIES, and late PROFESSOR of POETRY in the UNIVERSITY of OXFORD.

LONDON: Printed for, and sold by, J. DODSLEY, Pall-Mall; J. WALTER, Charing-Cross; J. ROBSON, New Bond-Street; G. ROBINSON, and J. BEW, Pater-noster-Row; and Messrs. FLETCHER, at Oxford. M. DCC. LXXXI.

CONTENTS OF THE SECTIONS in the THIRD VOLUME.

SECTION XIX. p. 1.
PETRARCH'S sonnets. Lord Surrey. His education, tra­vels, mistress, life, and poetry. He is the first writer of blank­verse. Italian blank-verse. Surrey the first English classic poet.
SECTION XX. p. 28.
Sir Thomas Wyat. Inferior to Surrey as a writer of sonnets. His [...]fe. His genius characterised. Excels in moral poetry.
SECTION XXI. p. 41.
The first printed Miscellany of English poetry. Its contributors. Sir Francis Bryan, Lord Rochford, and Lord Vaulx. The first true pastoral in English. Sonnet-writing cultivated by the nobi­lity. Sonnets by king Henry the eighth. Literary character of that king.
SECTION XXII. p. 60.
The second writer of blank-verse in English. Specimens of early blank [...]verse.
[Page iv]SECTION XXIII. p. 70.
Andrew Borde. Bale. Anslay. Chertsey. Fabyll's ghost a poem. The Merry Devil of Edmonton. Other minor poets of the reign of Henry the eighth.
SECTION XXIV. p. 87.
John Heywood the epigrammatist. His works examined. Antient unpublished burlesque poem of Sir Penny.
SECTION XXV. p. 97.
Sir Thomas More's English poetry. Tournament of Tottenham. Its age and scope. Laurence Minot. Alliteration. Digression illustrating comparatively the language of the fifteenth century, by a specimen of the metrical Armoric romance of Ywayn and Gawayn.
SECTION XXVI. p. 135.
The Notbrowne Mayde. Not older than the sixteenth century. Artful contrivance of the story. Misrepresented by Prior. Me­trical romances, Guy, syr Bevys, and Kynge Apolyn, printed in the reign of Henry. The Scole howse, a satire. Christmas carols. Religious libels in rhyme. Merlin's prophesies. Lau­rence Minot. Occasional disquisition on the late continuance of the use of waxen tablets. Pageantries of Henry's court. Dawn of taste.
SECTION XXVII. p. 161.
Effects of the Reformation on our poetry. Clement Marot's Psalms. Why adopted by Calvin. Version of the Psalms by Stern [...]old and Hopkins. Desects of this ver [...]ion, which is patronised by the puritans in opposition to the Choral Service.
[Page v]SECTION XXVIII. p. 180.
Metrical versions of scripture. Archbishop Parker's Psalms in metre. Robert Crowley's puritanical poetry.
SECTION XXIX. p. 190.
Tye's Acts of the Apostles in rhyme. His merit as a musician. Early piety of king Edward the sixth. Controversial ballads and plays. Translation of the Bible. Its effects on our language. Arthur Kelton's Chronicle of the Brutes. First Drinking­song. Gammar Gurton's Needle.
SECTION XXX. p. 209.
Reign of queen Mary. Mirrour of Magistrates. Its inventor, Sackville lord Buckhurst. His life. Mirrour of Magistrates continued by Baldwyn and Ferrers. Its plan and stories.
SECTION XXXI. p. 220.
Sackville's Induction to the Mirrour of Magistrates. Examined. A prelude to the Fairy Queen. Comparative view of Dante's Inferno.
SECTION XXXII. p. 256.
Sackville's Legend of Buckingham in the Mirrour of Magistrates. Additions by Higgins. Account of him. View of the early editions of this Collection. Specimen of Higgins's Legend of Cor­delia, which is copied by Spenser.
SECTION XXXIII. p. 269.
View of Niccols's edition of the Mirrour of Magistrates. High estimation of this Collection. Historical plays, whence.
[Page vi]SECTION XXXIV. p. 283.
Richard Edwards. Principal poet, player, musician, and buffoon, to the courts of Mary and Elisabeth. Anecdotes of his life. Cotemporary testimonies of his merit. A contributor to the Pa­radise of daintie Devises. His book of comic histories, supposed to have suggested Shakespeare's Induction of the Tinker. Oc­casional anecdotes of Antony Munday and Henry Chettle. Ed­words's songs.
SECTION XXXV. p. 298.
Tusser. Remarkable circumstances of his life. His Husbandrie, one of our earliest didactic poems, examined.
SECTION XXXVI. p. 311.
William Forrest's poems. His Queen Catharine, an elegant manu­script, contains anecdotes of Henry's divorce. He collects and preserves antient music. Puritans oppose the study of the classics. Lucas Shepherd. John Pullayne. Numerous metrical versions of Solomon's Song. Censured by Hall the satiri [...]t. Religious rhymers. Edward More. Boy-bishop, and miracle-plays, re­vived by queen Mary. Minute particulars of an antient mira­cle-play.
SECTION XXXVII. p. 329.
English language begins to be cultivated. Earliest book of Criticism in English. Examined. Soon followed by others. Early critical systems of the French and Italians. New and superb editions of Gower and Lydgate. Chaucer's monument erected in Westminster­abbey. Chaucer esteemed by the reformers.
[Page vii]SECTION XXXVIII. p. 355.
Sackville's Gordobuc. Our first regular tragedy. Its fable, con­duct, characters, and style. Its defects. Dumb-show. Sack­ville not assisted by Norton.
SECTION XXXIX. p. 372.
Classical drama revived and studied. The Phoenissae of Euripides translated by Gascoigne. Seneca's Tragedies translated. Account of the translators, and of their respective versions. Queen Elisa­beth translates a part of the Hercules Oetaeus.
SECTION XL. p. 395.
Most of the classic poets translated before the end of the sixteenth century. Phaier's Eneid. Completed by Twyne. Their other works. Phaier's Ballad of Gad's-hill. Stanihurst's Eneid in English hexameters. His other works. Fleming's Virgil's Bu­colics and Georgics. His other works. Webbe and Fraunce translate some of the Bucolics. Fraunce's other works. Spenser's Culex. The original not genuine. The Ceiris proved to be ge­nuine. Nicholas Whyte's Story of Jason, supposed to be a version of Valerius Flaccus. Golding's Ovid's Metamorphoses. His other works. Ascham's censure of rhyme. A translation of the Fasti revives and circulates the story of Lucrece. Euryalus and Lucretia. Detached fables of the Metamorphoses translated. Moralisations in fashion. Underdowne's Ovid's Ibis. Ovid's Elegies translated by Marlowe. Remedy of Love, by F. L. Epistles by Turberville. Lord Essex a translator of Ovid. His literary character. Churchyard's Ovid's Tristia. Other detached versions from Ovid. Antient meaning and use of the word Ballad. Drant's Horace. Incidental criticism on Tully's Oration pro Archia.
[Page viii]SECTION XLI. p. 432.
Kendal's Martial. Marlowe's versions of Coluthus and Museus. General character of his Tragedies. Testimonies of his cotempo­raries. Specimens and estimate of his poetry. His death. First Translation of the Iliad by Arthur Hall. Chapman's Homer. His other works. Version of Clitophon and Leucippe. Origin of the Greek erotic romance. Palingenius translated by Googe. Criticism on the original. Specimen and merits of the translation. Googe's other works. Incidental stricture on the philosophy of the Greeks.
SECTION XLII. p. 461.
Translation of Italian novels. Of Boccace. Paynter's Palace of Pleasure. Other versions of the same sort. Early metrical versions of Boccace's Theodore and Honoria, and Cymon and Iphigenia. Romeus and Juliet. Bandello translated. Romances from Bre­tagne. Plot of Shakespeare's Tempest. Miscellaneous Collec­tions of translated novels before the year 1600. Pantheon. Novels arbitrarily licenced or suppressed. Reformation of the English Press.
SECTION XLIII. p. 490.
General view and character of the poetry of queen Elisabeth's age.

A DISSERTATION ON THE GESTA ROMANORUM.

TALES are the learning of a rude age. In the p [...]og [...]ess of letters, speculation and enquiry commence with re­finement of manners. Literature becomes sentimental and discursive, in proportion as a people is polished: and men must be instructed by facts, either real or imaginary, before they can apprehend the subtleties of argument, and the force of ref [...]ection.

Vincent of Beauvais, a learned Dominican of France, who flou­rished in the thirteenth century, observes in his MIRROR of HISTORY, that it was a practice of the preachers of his age, to rouse the indifference and relieve the languor of their hearers, by quoting the fables of Esop: yet, at the same time, he re­commends a sparing and prudent application of these profane fancies in the discussion of sacred subjects a. Among the Harleian [Page ii] manuscripts in the British Museum we find a very antient collection of two hundred and fifteen stories, romantic, allegorical, religious, and legendary, which were evidently compiled by a professed preacher, for the use of monastic societies. Some of these ap­pear to have been committed to writing from the recitals of bards and minstrels: others to have been invented and written by troubadours and monks b. In the year 1389, a grand system of divinity appeared at Paris, afterwards translated by Caxton under the title of the COURT OF SAPYENCE, which abounds with a multitude of historical examples, parables, and apologues; and which the writer wisely supposes, to be much more likely to interest the attention and excite the devotion of the people, than the authority of science, and the parade of theology. In consequence of the expediency of this mode of of instruction, the Legends of the Saints were received into the ritual, and rehearsed in the course of public worship. For religious romances were nearly allied to songs of chivalry; and the same gross ignorance of the people, which in the early centuries of christianity created a necessity of introducing the visible pomp of theatrical ceremonies into the churches, was taught the duties of devotion, by being amused with the achieve­ments of spiritual knight-errantry, and impressed with the ex­amples of pious heroism. In more cultivated periods, the DECA­MERON of Boccace, and other books of that kind, ought to be considered as the remnant of a species of writing which was founded on the simplicity of mankind, and was adapted to the exigencies of the infancy of society.

Many obsolete collections of this sort still remain, both printed and manuscript, containing narratives either fictitious or historical,

—Of king and heroes old,
Such as the wise Demodocus once told
In solemn songs at king Alcinous' feast c.

[Page iii] But among the antient story-books of this character, a Latin compilation entitled GESTA ROMANORUM seems to have been the favorite.

This piece has been before incidentally noticed: but as it operated powerfully on the general body of our old poetry, affording a variety of inventions not only to Chaucer, Gower, and Lydgate, but to their distant successors, I have judged it of sufficient importance to be examined at large in a separate disser­tation: which has been designedly reserved for this place, for the purpose both of recapitulation and illustration, and of giving the reader a more commodious opportunity of surveying at leisure, from this intermediate point of view, and under one comprehensive detail, a connected display of the materials and original subjects of many of our past and future poets.

Indeed, in the times with which we are now about to be con­cerned, it seems to have been growing more into esteem. At the commencement of typography, Wynkyn de Worde pub­lished this book in English. This translation wasre printed, by one Robinson, in 1577. And afterwards, of the same transla­tion there were six impressions before the year 1601 d. There is an edition in black letter so late as the year 1689. About the year 1596, an English version appeared of ‘"Epitomes des cent HISTOIRES TRAGIQUES, partie extraictes des ACTES DE [...] ROMAINS et autres, &c."’ From the popularity, or rather familiarity, of this work in the reign of queen Elisabeth, the title of GESTA GRAYORUM was affixed to the history of the acts of the Christmas Prince at Grays-inn, in 1594 e. In Sir GILES GOOSECAP, an anonymous comedy, presented by the Children of the Chapel in the year 1606, we have, ‘"Then for your lordship's quips and quick jests, why GESTA RO­MANORUM were nothing to them f."’ And in George Chap­man's MAY-DAY, a comedy, printed at London in 1611, a man of the highest literary taste for the pieces in vogue is characterised, [Page iv] "One that has read Marcus Aurelius, GESTA RO­MANORUM, the Mirrour of Magistrates, &c.—to be led by the nose like a blind beare that has read nothing g!"’ The critics and collectors in black-letter, I believe, could produce many other proofs.

The GESTA ROMANORUM were first printed without date, but as it is supposed before or about the year 1473, in folio, with this title, Incipiunt HISTORIE NOTABILES collecte ex GESTIS ROMANORUM et quibusdam aliis libris cum applicationibus eorundem h. This edition has one hundred and fifty-two chapters, or GESTS, and one hundred and seventeen leaves i. It is in the Gothic letter, and in two columns. The first chapter is of king Pompey, and the last of prince, or king, Cleonicus. The initials are written in red and blue ink. Thi [...] [...]dition, slightly mutilated, is among bishop Tanner's printed books in the Bod­leian library. The reverend and learned doctor Farmer, master of Emanuel college in Cambridge, has the second edition, as it seems, printed at Louvain, in quarto, the same or the subse­quent year, by John de Westfalia, under the title, Ex GESTIS ROMANORUM HISTORIE NOTABILES de viciis virtutibusque tractantes cum applicationibus moralisatis et mysticis. And with this colophon, GESTA ROMANORUM cum quibusdam aliis HIS­TORIIS eisdem annexis ad MORALITATES dilucide redacta hic finem habent. Quae, diligenter correctis aliorum viciis, impressit Joannes de Westfalia in alma Vniversitate Louvaniensi. It has one hundred and eighty-one chapters k. That is, twenty-nine more than are contained in the former edition: the first of the addi­tional chapters being the story of Antiochus, or the substance of the romance of APOLLONIUS of TYRE. The initials are inserted [Page v] in red ink l. Another followed soon afterwards, in quarto, Ex GESTIS ROMANORUM Historie notabiles moralizatae, per Gi­rardum Lieu, GOUDAE, 1480. The next edition, with the use of which I have been politely favoured by George Mason esquire, of Aldenham-Lodge in Hertfordshire, was printed in folio, and in the year 1488, with this title, GESTA RHOMA­NORUM cum Applicationibus moralisatis et misticis. The colophon is, Ex GESTIS ROMANORUM cum pluribus applicatis Historiis de virtutibus et viciis mystice ad intellectum transsumptis Recollectorii finis. Anno nre salutis MCCCCLXXX viij kalendas vero februarii xviij. A general, and alphabetical, table, are subjoined. The book, which is printed in two columns, and in the Gothic cha­racter, abounding with abbreviations, contains ninety-three leaves. The initials are written or flourished in red and blue, and all the capitals in the body of the text are miniated with a pen. There were many other later editions m. I must add, that the GESTA ROMANORUM were translated into Dutch, so early as the year 1484. There is an old French version in the British Museum.

This work is compiled from the obsolete Latin chronicles of the later Roman or rather German story, heightened by roman­tic inventions, from Legends of the Saints, oriental apologues, and many of the shorter fictitious narratives which came into Europe with the Arabian literature, and were familiar in the ages of ignorance and imagination. The classics are sometimes cited for authorities; but these are of the lower order, such as Valerius Maximus, Macrobius, Aulus Gallius, Seneca, Pliny, and Boethius. To every tale a MORALISATION is subjoined, reducing it into a christian or moral lesson.

Most of the oriental apologues are taken from the CLERICA­LIS DISCIPLINA, or a latin Dialogue between an Arabian Philo [...]opher [Page vi] and Edricn his son, never printed o, written by Peter Al­phonsus, a baptized Jew, at the beginning of the twelfth cen­tury, and collected from Arabian fables, apothegms, and ex­amples p. Some are also borrowed from an old Latin translation of the CALILAH U DAMNAH, a celebrated sett of eastern fables, to which Alphonsus was indebted.

On the whole, this is the collection in which a curious enquirer might expect to find the original of Chaucer's Cam­buscan:

Or,—if aught else great bards beside
In sage and solemn tunes have sung,
Of turneys and of trophies hung,
Of forests and inchantments drear,
Where more is meant than meets the ear q.

Our author frequently cites GESTA ROMANORUM, the title of his own work. By which I understand no particular book of that name, but the Roman History in general. Thus in the title of the SAINT ALBANS CHRONICLE, printed by Caxton, Titus Livyus de GESTIS ROMANORUM is recited. In the year 1544, Lucius Florus was printed at Paris under the same title r. In the British Museum we find ‘"LES FAIS DE ROMAINS jusques a la [...]in de l' empire Domician, selon Orose, Justin, Lucan, &c."’ A plain historical deduction s. The ROMULEON, an old manuscript history of Rome from the foundation of the city to Constantine the Great, is also called de GESTIS ROMANORUM. This manuscript occurs both in Latin and French: and a French copy, among the royal man [...]scripts, [Page vii] has the title, ‘"ROMULEON, ou des FAIS DE RO­MAINS t."’ Among the manuscript books written by Lapus de Castellione, a Florentine civilian, who flourished about the year 1350, there is one, De Origine URBIS ROMAE et de GESTIS ROMANORUM u. Gower, in the CONFESSIO AMANTIS, often introduces Roman stories with the Latin preamble, Hic secundum GESTA. Where he certainly means the Roman History, which by degrees had acquired simply the appellation of GESTA. Herman Korner, in his CHRONICA NOVELLA, written about the year 1438, refers for his vouchers to Bede, Orosius, Vale­rius Maximus, Josephus, Eusebius, and the Chronicon et GESTA ROMANORUM. Most probably, to say no more, by the CHRO­NICON he means the later writers of the Roman affairs, such as Isidore and the monkish compilers; and by GESTA the antient Roman history, as related by Livy and the more established Latin historians.

Neither is it possible that this work could have been brought as a proof or authority, by any serious annalist, for the Roman story.

For though it bears the title of GESTA ROMANORUM, yet this title by no means properly corresponds with the contents of the collection: which, as has been already hinted, comprehends a multitude of narratives, either not historical; or, in another respect, such as are either totally unconnected with the Roman people, or perhaps the most preposterous misrepresentations of their history. To cover this deviation from the promised plan, which, by introducing a more ample variety of matter, has contributed to encrease the reader's entertainment, our col­lector has taken care to preface almost every story with the name or reign of a Roman emperor; who, at the same time, is often a monarch that never existed, and who seldom, whether real or suppositious, has any concern with the circumstances of the narrative.

[Page viii] But I hasten to exhibit a compendious analysis of the chap­ters which form this very singular compilation: intermixing occasional illustrations arising from the subject, and shortening or lengthening my abridgement of the stories, in proportion as I judge they are likely to interest the reader. Where, for that reason, I have been very concise, I have yet said enough to direct the critical antiquarian to this collection, in case he should find a similar tale occurring in any of our old poets. I have omitted the mention of a very few chapters, which were beneath notice. Sometimes, where common authors are quoted, I have only mentioned the author's name, without specifying the substance of the quotation. For it was necessary that the reader should be made acquainted with our collector's track of reading, and the books which he used. In the mean time, this review will serve as a full notification of the edition of 1488, which is more comprehensive and complete than some others of later publication, and to which all the rest, as to a general criterion, may be now comparatively referred.

CHAP. i. Of a daughter of king Pompey, whose chamber was guarded by five armed knights and a dog. Being permitted to be present at a public shew, she is [...]educed by a duke, who is afterwards killed by the champion of her father's court. She is reconciled to her father, and betrothed to a nobleman: on which occasion, sh [...] receives from her father an embroidered robe and a crown of gold, from the champion a gold ring, ano­ther from the wise man who pacified the king's anger, another from the king's son, another from her cousin, and from her spouse a seal of gold. All these presents are inscribed with pro­verbial sentences, suitable to the circumstances of the princess.

The latter part of this story is evidently oriental. The feudal manners, in a book which professes to record the achievements of the Roman people, are remarkable in the introductory cir­cumstances. But of this mixture we shall see many striking instances.

CHAP. ii. Of a youth taken captive by pirates. The king's [Page ix] daughter falls in love with him; and having procured his escape, accompanies him to his own country, where they are married.

CHAP. vi. An emperor is married to a beautiful young prin­cess. In case of death, they mutually agree not to survive one other. To try the truth of his wife, the emperor going into a distant country, orders a report of his death to be circulated. In remembrance of her vow, and in imitation of the wives of India, she prepares to throw herself headlong from a high pre­cipice. She is prevented by her father; who interposes his pa­ternal authority, as predominating over a rash and unlawful promise.

CHAP. vii. Under the reign of Dioclesian, a noble knight had two sons, the youngest of which marries a harlot.

This story, but with a difference of circumstances, ends like the beautiful apologue of the Prodigal Son.

CHAP. viii. The emperor Leo commands three female sta­tues to be made. One has a gold ring on a finger pointing for­ward, another a beard of gold, and the third a golden cloak and purple tunic. Whoever steals any of these ornaments, is to be punished with an ignominious death.

This story is copied by Gower, in the CONFESSIO AMAN­TIS: but he has altered some of the circumstances. He sup­poses a statue of Apollo.

Of plate of golde a berde he hadde,
The wiche his brest all ovir spradde:
Of golde also, without fayle,
His mantell was, of large entayle,
Besette with perrey all aboute:
Forth ryght he straught his fynger oute,
Upon the whiche he had a rynge,
To seen it was a ryche thynge,
A fyne carbuncle for the nones
Moste precious of all stones w.

[Page x] In the sequel, Gower follows the substance of our author.

CHAP. x. Vespasian marries a wife in a distant country, who refuses to return home with him, and yet declares she will kill herself if he goes. The emperor ordered two rings to be made, of a wonderous efficacy; one of which, in the stone, has the image of Oblivion, the other the image of Memory: the ring of Oblivion he gave to the empress, and returned home with the ring of Memory.

CHAP. xi. The queen of the south sends her daughter to king Alexander, to be his concubine. She was exceedingly beautiful, but had been nourished with poison from her birth. Alexander's master, Aristotle, whose sagacity nothing could escape, knowing this, entreated, that before she was admitted to the king's bed, a malefactor condemned to death might be sent for, who should give her a kiss in the presence of the king. The malefactor, on kissing her, instantly dropped down dead. Aristotle, having explained his reasons for what he had done, was loaded with honours by the king, and the princess was dismissed to her mother.

This story is founded on the twenty-eighth chapter of Aris­totle's SECRETUM SECRETORUM: in which, a queen of India is said to have treacherously sent to Alexander, among other costly presents, the pretended testimonies of her friendship, a girl of exquisite beauty, who having been fed with serpents from her infancy, partook of their nature y. If I recollect right, in Pliny there are accounts of nations whose natural food was poison. Mithridates, king of Pontus, the land of venomous herbs, and the country of the sorceress Medea, was supposed to [Page xi] eat poison. Sir John Maundeville's Travels, I believe, will afford other instances.

CHAP. xii. A profligate priest, in the reign of the emperor Otto, or Otho, walking in the fields, and neglecting to say mass, is reformed by a vision of a comely old man.

CHAP. xiii. An empress having lost her husband, becomes so doatingly fond of her only son, then three years of age, as not to bear his absence for a moment. They sleep together every night, and when he was eighteen years of age, she proves with child by him. She murthers the infant, and her left hand is immediately marked with four circles of blood. Her repentance is related, in consequence of a vision of the holy virgin.

This story is in the SPECULUM HISTORIALE of Vincent of Beauvais, who wrote about the year 1250 z.

CHAP. xiv. Under the reign of the emperor Dorotheus, a remarkable example of the filial piety of a young man, who redeems his father, a knight, from captivity.

CHAP. xv. Eufemian, a nobleman in the court of the em­peror of Rome, is attended by three thousand servants girt with golden belts, and cloathed in silken vestments. His house was crouded with pilgrims, orphans, and widows, for whom three tables were kept every day. He has a son, Allexius; who quits his father's palace, and lives unknown seventeen years in a monastery in Syria. He then returns, and lives seventeen years undiscovered as a pilgrim in his father's family, where he suf­fers many indignities from the servants.

Allexius, or Alexis, was canonised. This story is taken from his Legend a. In the metrical Lives of the Saints, his life is told in a sort of measure different from that of the rest, and not very common in the earlier stages of our poetry. It begins thus.

Lesteneth alle and herkeneth me,
Ȝonge and olde, bonde and fre,
[Page xii] And ich ȝow telle sone,
How a ȝought man, gent and fre,
By gan this worldis wele to fle,
Y born he was in Rome.
In Rome was a doȝty man
That was y cleped Eufemian,
Man of moche myȝte;
Gold and seluer he hadde ynouȝ,
Hall and boures, oxse and plouȝ,
And swith wel it dyȝte.

When Alexius returns home in disguise, and asks his father about his son, the father's feelings are thus described.

So sone so he spake of his sone,
The guode man, as was his wone,
Gan to sike sore b;
His herte felc so colde so ston,
The teres felle to his ton d,
On her berd hore.

At his burial, many miracles are wrought on the sick.

With mochel siȝt e, and mochel song,
That holy cors, hem alle among,
Bischoppis to cherche bere.
Amyddes riȝt the heȝe strete f,
So moche folke hym gone mete
That they resten a stonde,
All the sikeg that to him come,
I heled wer swithe sone
Of feth and eke of honde:
The blinde come to harei siȝt,
The croked gonne sone riȝt k,
The lame for to go:
That dombe wer fongel speeche,
Theȝ heredem god the sothe leche n,
And that halweo also.
The day ȝede and drouȝ to nyȝt,
No lenger dwellep they ne myȝt,
To cherche they moste wende;
The bellen they gonne to rynge,
The clerkes heȝeq to synge,
Everich in his ende r.
Tho the corse to cherche com
Glad they wer everichon
That there ycure wer,
The pope and the emperour
By fore an auter of seynt Savour
Ther sette they the bere.
Aboute the bere was moche liȝt
With proude palle was bediȝt,
I beten al with golde s.

The history of Saint Alexius is told entirely in the same words in the GESTA ROMANORUM, and in the LEGENDA AUREA of Jacobus de Voragine f, translated, through a French medium, by Caxton. This work of Jacobus does not consist [Page xiv] solely of th [...] legends of the saints, but is interspersed with multis aliis pulcherrimis et peregrinis historiis, with many other most beautiful and strange histories t.

CHAP. xvi. A Roman emperor in digging for the foundation of a new palace, finds a golden sarcophagus, or coffin, inscribed with mysterious words and sentences. Which being explained, prove to be so many moral lessons of instruction for the em­peror's future conduct.

CHAP. xvii. A poor man named Guido, engages to serve an emperor of Rome in six several capacities, or employments. One of these services is, to shew the best way to the holy land. Acquitting himself in all with singular address and fidelity, he is made a knight, and loaded with riches.

CHAP. xviii. A knight named Julian is hunting a stag, who turns and says, ‘"you will kill your father and mother."’ On this he went into a distant country, where he married a rich Lady of a castle. Julian's father and mother travelled into va­rious lands to find their son, and at length accidentally came to this castle, in his absence; where telling their story to the lady, who had heard it from her husband, she discovered who they were, and gave them her own bed to sleep in. Early in the morning, while she was at mass in the chapel, her husband Julian unexpectedly returned; and entering his wife's chamber, perceived two persons in the bed, whom he immediately slew with his sword, hastily supposing them to be his wife and her adulterer. At leaving the chamber, he met his wife coming from the cha­pel; and with great astonishment asked her, who the persons were sleeping in her bed? She answered, ‘"They are your parents, who have been seeking you so long, and whom I have honoured with a place in our own bed."’ Afterwards they founded a sumptuous hospital for the accommodation of travellers, on the banks of a dangerous river.

This story is told in Caxton's GOLDEN LEGENDE u, and in [Page xv] the metrical Lives of the Saints w. Hence Julian, or Saint Julian, was called hospitator, or the gode herberjour; and the Pater Noster became famous, which he used to say for the souls of his father and mother whom he had thus unfortunately killed x. The peculiar excellencies of this prayer are displayed by Boc­cace y. Chaucer speaking of the hospitable disposition of his FRANKELEIN, says,

Saint Julian he was in his own countre z.

This history is, like the last, related by our compiler, in the words of Julian's Legend, as it stands in Jacobus de Voragine a. Bollandus has inserted Antoninus's account of this saint, which appears also to be literally the same b. It is told, yet not exactly in the same words, by Vincent of Beauvais c.

I take this opportunity of observing, that the Legends of the the Saints, so frequently referred to in the GESTA ROMA­NORUM, often contain high strokes of fancy, both in the structure and decorations of the story. That they should abound in extravagant conceptions, may be partly accounted for, from the superstitious and visionary cast of the writer: but the truth is, they derive this complexion from the east. Some were originally forged by monks of the Greek church, to whom the oriental fictions and mode of fabling were familiar. The more early of the Latin lives were carried over to Constantinople, where they were translated into Greek with new embellishments of eastern imagination. These being returned into Europe, were translated into Latin, where they naturally superseded the old Latin arche­types. Others of the Latin lives contracted this tincture, from being written after the Arabian literature became common in Europe. The following ideas in the Life of Saint Pelagian [Page xvi] evidently betray their original. ‘"As the bysshop sange masse in the cyte of Usanance, he saw thre dropes ryghte clere all of one gratenesse whiche were upon the aulter, and al thre ranne to gyder in to a precyous gemme: and whan they had set thys gemme in a crosse of golde, al the other precyous stones that were there, fyllend out, and thys gemme was clere to them that were clene out of synne, and it was obscure and darke to synners e, &c."’ The peculiar cast of romantic inven­tion was admirably suited to serve the purposes of superstition.

Possevin, a learned Jesuit, who wrote about the close of the sixteenth century, complains, that for the last five hundred years the courts of all the princes in Europe had been infatuated by reading romances: and that, in his time, it was a mark of in­elegance, not to be familiarly acquainted with Lancelot du Lake, Perceforest, Tristan, Giron the Courteous, Amadis de Gaul, Primaleon, Boccace's Decameron, and Ariosto. He even goes so far as to say, that the devil instigated Luther to procure a transla­tion of Amadis from Spanish into French, for the purpose of facilitating his grand scheme of overthrowing the catholic reli­gion. The popularity of this book, he adds, warped the minds of the French nation from their antient notions and studies; introduced a neglect of the scriptures, and propagated a love for astrology, and other fantastic arts f. But with the leave of this zealous catholic I would observe, that this sort of reading was likely to produce, if any, an effect quite contrary. The genius of romance and of popery was the same; and both were strengthened by the reciprocation of a similar spirit of cre­dulity. The dragons and the castles of the one, were of a piece with the visions and pretended miracles of the other. The ridiculous theories of false and unsolid science, which, by the way, had been familiarised to the French by other ro­mances, long before the translation of Amadis, were surely more likely to be advanced under the influence of a religion founded on [Page xvii] deception, than in consequence of Luther's reformed system, which aimed at purity and truth, and which was to gain its end by the suppression of antient prejudices.

Many of the absurdities of the catholic worship were per­haps, as I have hinted, in some degree necessary in the early ages of the church, on account of the ignorance of the people; at least, under such circumstances they were natural, and there­fore excusable. But when the world became wiser, those mum­meries should have been abolished, for the same reason that the preachers left off quoting Esop's fables in their sermons, and the stage ceased to instruct the people in the scripture-history by the representation of the MYSTERIES. The advocates of the pa­pal communion do not consider, that in a cultivated age, abound­ing with every species of knowledge, they continue to retain those fooleries which were calculated only for christians in a con­dition of barbarism, and of which the use now no longer subsists.

CHAP. xix. When Julius Cesar was preparing to pass the Rubicon, a gigantic spectre appeared from the middle of the river, threatening to interrupt his passage, if he came not to establish the peace of Rome. Our author cites the GESTA ROMANORUM for this story.

It was impossible that the Roman history could pass through the dark ages, without being infected with many romantic cor­ruptions. Indeed, the Roman was almost the only antient history, which the readers of those ages knew: and what re­lated even to pagan Rome, the parent of the more modern papal metropolis of christianity, was regarded with a supersti­tious veneration, and often magnified with miraculous additions.

CHAP. xx. The birth of the emperor Henry, son of earl Leopold, and his wonderful preservation from the stratagems of the emperor Conrade, till his accession to the imperial throne.

This story is told by Caxton in the GOLDEN LEGENDE, under the life of Pelagian the pope, entitled, Here foloweth the lyf of Saynt Pelagyen the pope, with many other hystoryes and [Page xviii] gestys of the Lombardes, and of Machomete, with other cronycles g. The GESTA LONGOBARDORUM are fertile in legendary matter, and furnished Jacobus de Voragine, Caxton's original, with many marvellous histories h. Caxton, from the gestes of the Lombardis, gives a wonderful account of a pestilence in Italy, under the reign of king Gilbert i.

There is a LEGENDA SANCTORUM, [...]ive HISTORIA LOM­BARDICA, printed in 1483. This very uncommon book is not mentioned by Maittaire. It has this colophon. ‘"Expli­ciunt quorundam Sanctorum Legende adjuncte post Lom­bardicam historiam. Impressa Argentine, M. CCCC. LXXXIII k."’ That is, the latter part of the book contains a few Saints not in the history of the Lombards, which forms the first part. I have neither time nor inclination to examine whether this is Jacobus's LEGENDA: but I believe it to be the same. I think I have seen an older edition of the work, at Cologne 1470 l.

I have observed that Caxton's GOLDEN LEGENDE is taken from Jacobus de Voragine. This perhaps is not precisely true. Caxton informs us in his first preface to the first edition of 1483 m, that he had in his possession a Legend in French, ano­ther in Latin, and a third in English, which varied from the other two in many places: and that MANY HISTORIES were contained in the English collection, which did not occur in the French and Latin. Therefore, says he, ‘"I have wryton ON [...] OUTE of the sayd three bookes: which I have orderyd other­wyse than in the sayd Englysshe Legende, which was so to fore made."’ Caxton's English original might have been the old METRICAL LIVES OF THE SAINTS.

CHAP. xxi. A story from Justin, concerning a conspiracy of the Spartans against their king.

[Page xix] CHAP. xxii. How the Egyptians deified Isis and Osiris. From saint Austin. As is the following chapter.

CHAP. xxiv. Of a magician and his delicious garden, which he shews only to fools and to his enemies.

CHAP. xxv. Of a lady who keeps the staff and scrip of a stranger, who rescued her from the oppressions of a tyrant: but being afterwards courted by three kings, she destroys those memorials of her greatest benefactor.

CHAP. xxvi. An emperor, visiting the holy land, commits his daughter and his favorite dog, who is very fierce, to the custody of five knights, under the superintendance of his sene­shall. The seneshall neglects his charge: the knights are obliged to quit their post for want of necessaries; and the dog, being fed with the provisions assigned to the knights, grows fiercer, breaks his three chains, and kills the lady who was per­mitted to wander at large in her father's hall. When the em­peror returns, the seneshall is thrown into a burning furnace.

CHAP. xxviii. The old woman and her little dog.

CHAP. xxx. The three honours and three dishonours, decreed by a certain king to every conqueror returning from war.

CHAP. xxxi. The speeches of the philosophers on seeing king Alexander's golden sepulchre.

CHAP. xxxiii. A man had three trees in his garden, on which his three wives successively hanged themselves. Another begs an offset from each of the trees, to be planted in the gardens of his married neighbours. From Valerius Maximus, who is cited.

CHAP. xxxiv. Aristotle's seven rules to his pupil Alexander.

This, I think, is from the SECRETA SECRETORUM. Aris­totle, for two reasons, was a popular character in the dark ages. He was the father of their philosophy: and had been the pre­ceptor of Alexander the Great, one of the principal heroes of romance. No [...] was Aristotle himself without his romantic history; in which he falls in love with a queen of Greece, who quickly confutes his subtlest syllogisms.

[Page xx] CHAP. xxxv. The GESTA ROMANORUM cited, for the cus­tom among the antient Romans of killing a lamb for pacifying quarrels.

CHAP. xxxvi. Of a king who desires to know the nature of man. Solinus, de MIRABILIBUS MUNDI, is here quoted.

CHAP. xxxvii. Pliny's account of the stone which the eagle places in her nest, to avoid the poison of a serpent.

CHAP. xxxix. Julius Cesar's mediation between two brothers. From the GESTA ROMANORUM.

We must not forget, that there was the Romance of JULIUS CESAR. And I believe Antony and Cleopatra were more known characters in the dark ages, than is commonly supposed. Shakespeare is thought to have formed his play on this story from North's translation of Amyot's unauthentic French Plu­tarch, published at London in 1579. Montfaucon, among the manuscripts of monsieur Lancelot, recites an old piece written about the year 1500, ‘"LA VIE ET FAIS DE MARC ANTOINE le triumvir et de sa mie CLEOPATRA, translatè de l' historien Plutarque pour tres illustre haute et puissante dame Madame Françoise de Fouez Dame de Châteaubriand n."’ I know not whether t [...]is piece was ever printed. At least it shews, that the story was familiar at a more early period than is imagined; and leads us to suspect, that there might have been other mate­rials used by Shakespeare on this subject, than those hitherto pointed out by his commentators.

That Amyot's French version of Plutarch should contain corruptions and innovations, will easily be conceived, when it is remembered that he probably translated from an old Italian version o. A new exhibition in English of the French caricature [Page xxi] of this most valuable biographer by North, must have stil [...] more widely extended the deviation from the original.

CHAP. xl. The infidelity of a wife proved by feeling her pulse in conversation. From Macrobius.

CHAP. xlii. Valerius Maximus is cited, concerning a column at Rome inscribed with four letters four times written.

CHAP. xliv. Tiberius orders a maker of ductile glass, which could not be broken, to be beheaded, le [...]t it should become more valuable than silver and gold.

This piece of history, which appears also in Cornelius Aggrippa DE VANITATE SCIENTIARUM q, is taken from Pliny, or rather from his transcriber Isidore p. Pliny, in relating this story, says, that the temperature of glass, so as to render it flexible, was discovered under the reign of Tiberius.

In the same chapter Pliny observes, that glass is susceptible of all colours. ‘"Fit et album, et murrhinum, aut hyacinthos sapphirosque imitatum, et omnibus aliis coloribus. Nec est alia nunc materia sequacior, aut etiam PICTURAE ACCOMMO­DATIOR. Maximus tamen honor in candido r."’ But the Romans, as the last sentence partly proves, probably never used any coloured glass for windows. The first notice of windows of a church made of coloured glass occurs in chronicles quoted by Muratori. In the year 802, a pope built a church at Rome, and, ‘"fenestras ex vitro diversis coloribus conclusit atque deco­ravit s."’ And in 856, he produces ‘"fenestras vero vitreis coloribus, &c t."’ This however was a sort of mosaic in glass. To express figures in glass, or what we now call the art of [Page xxii] painting in glass, was a very different work: and, I believe, I can shew it was brought from Constantinople to Rome before the tenth century, with other ornamental arts. Guiccardini, who wrote about 1560, in his Descrittione de tutti Paesi Bassi, ascribes the invention of baking colours in glass for church­windows to the Netherlanders u: but he does not mention the period, and I think he must be mistaken. It is certain that this art owed much to the laborious and mechanical genius of the Germans; and, in particular, their deep researches and ex­periments in chemistry, which they cultivated in the dark ages with the most indefatigable assiduity, must have greatly assisted its operations. I could give very early anecdotes of this art in England. But, with the careless haste of a lover, I am antici­pating what I have to say of it in my HISTORY OF GOTHIC ARCHITECTURE IN ENGLAND.

CHAP. xlv. A king leaves four sons by his wife, only one which is lawfully begotten. They have a contest for the throne. The dispute is referred to the deceased king's secretary, who orders the body to be taken from the tomb; and decrees, that the son who can shoot an arrow deepest into it shall be king. The first wounds the king's right hand: the second his mouth: the third his heart. The last wound is supposed to be the suc­cessful one. At length the fourth, approaching the body, cried out with a lamentable voice, ‘"Far be it from me to wound my father's body!"’ In consequence of this speech, he is pro­nounced by the nobles and people present to be the true heir, and placed on the throne.

CHAP. xlviii. Dionysius is quoted for the story of Perillus's brasen bull.

Gower in the CONFESSIO AMANTIS has this story; which he prefaces by saying that he found it in a Cronike w. In Caxton's Golden Legende, Macrobius is called a chronicle. ‘"Macrobius sayth in a cronike x."’ Chronicles are naturally the first efforts [Page xxiii] of the literature of a barbarous age. The writers, if any, of those periods are seldom equal to any thing more than a bare narration of facts: and such sort of matter is suitable to the taste and capa­city of their cotemporary readers. A further proof of the prin­ciples advanced in the beginning of this Dissertation.

CHAP. xlix. The duchess Rosmilla falls in love with Conan, king of Hungary, whom she sees from the walls of the city of Foro-Juli, which he is besieging. She has four sons and two daughters. She betrays the city to Conan, on condition that he will marry her the next day. Conan, a barbarian, exe­cuted the contract; but on the third day exposed her to his whole army, saying, ‘"such a wife deserves such a husband."’

Paulus, that is, Paulus Diaconus, the historian of the Longo­bards is quoted. He was chancellor of Desiderius, the last king of the Lombards; with whom he was taken captive by Charlemagne. The history here referred to is entitled GESTA LONGOBARDORUM y.

CHAP. l. From Valerius Maximus.

CHAP. li. From Josephus.

CHAP. lii. From Valerius Maximus.

CHAP. liii. From the same.

CHAP. liv. The emperor Frederick's marble portico near Capua.

I wonder there are not more romances extant on the lives of the Roman emp [...]rors of Germany; many of whom, to say no more, were famous in the crusades. There is a romance in old German rhyme, called TEUERDANK, on Maximilian the first, written by Melchior Pfinzing his chaplain. Printed at Nurem­berg in 1517 z.

[Page xxiv] CHAP. lv. Of a king who has one son exceedingly beautiful, and four daughters, named Justice, Truth, Mercy, and Peace.

CHAP. lvi. A nobleman invited a merchant to his castle, whom he met accordingly upon the road. At entering the castle, the merchant was astonished at the magnificence of the chambers, which were overlaid with gold. At supper, the nobleman placed the merchant next to his wife, who imme­diately shewed evident tokens of being much struck with her beauty. The table was covered with the richest dainties; but while all were served in golden dishes, a pittance of meat was placed before the lady in a dish made out of a human scull. The merchant was surprised and terrified at this strange spec­tacle. At length he was conducted to bed in a fair chamber [...] where, when left alone, he observed a glimmering lamp in a nook or corner of the room, by which he discovered two dead bodies hung up by the arms. He was now filled with the most horrible apprehensions, and could not sleep all the night. When he rose in the morning, he was asked by the nobleman how he liked his entertainment? He answered, ‘"There is plenty of every thing; but the scull prevented me from eating at sup­per, and the two dead bodies which I saw in my chamber from sleeping. With your leave therefore I will depart."’ The nobleman answered, ‘"My friend, you observed the beauty of my wife. The scull which you saw placed before her at supper, was the head of a duke, whom I detected in her embraces, and which I cut off with my own sword. As a memorial of her crime, and to teach her modest behaviour, her adulterer's scull is made to serve for her dish. The bodies of the two young men hanging in the chamber are my two kinsmen, who were murthered by the son of the duke. To keep up my sense of revenge for their blood, I visit their dead bodies every day. Go in peace, and remember to judge nothing without knowing the truth."’

Caxton has the history of Albione, a king of the Lombards, who having conquered another king, ‘"lade awaye wyth hym [Page xxv] Rosamounde his wyf in captyvyte, but after he took hyr to hys wyf, and he dyde do make a cuppe of the skulle of that kynge and closed in fyne golde and sylver, and dranke out of it a."’ This, by the way, is the story of the old Italian tragedy of Messer Giovanni Rucellai planned on the model of the antients, and acted in the Rucellai gardens at Florence, be­fore Leo the tenth and his court, in the year 1516 b. Davenant has also a tragedy on the same subject, called ALBOVINE king of the Lombards his Tragedy.

A most sanguinary scene in Shakespeare's TITUS ADRONI­CUS, an incident in Dryden's, or Boccace's, TANCRED and SIGISMONDA, and the catastrophe of the beautiful metrical romance of the LADY of FAGUEL, are founded on the same horrid ideas of inhuman retaliation and savage revenge: but in the two last pieces, the circumstances are so ingeniously ima­gined, as to lose a considerable degree of their atrocity, and to be productive of the most pathetic and interesting situations.

CHAP. lvii. The enchanter Virgil places a magical image in the middle of Rome c, which communicates to the emperor Titus all the secret offences committed every day in the city d.

This story is in the old black-lettered history of the necro­mancer Virgil, in Mr. Garrick's collection.

Vincent of Beauvais relates many wonderful things, mirabiliter actitata, done by the poet Virgil, whom he represents as a ma­gician. Among others, he says, that Virgil fabricated those brazen statues at Rome, called Salvacio Romae, which were the gods of the Provinces conquered by the Romans. Every one of these statues held in its hand a bell framed by magic; and [Page xxvi] when any province was meditating a revolt, the statue, or idol, of that country struck his bell e. This fiction is mentioned by the old anonymous author of the MIRABILIA ROMAE, written in the thirteenth century, and printed by Montfaucon f. It occurs in Lydgate's BOCHAS. He is speaking of the Pantheon.

Whyche was a temple of old foundacion,
Ful of ydols, up set on hye stages;
There throughe the worlde of every nacion
Were of theyr goddes set up great ymages,
To every kingdom direct were their visages,
As poetes and Fulgensg by hys live
In bokes olde plainly doth dyscrive.
Every ymage had in his hande a bell,
As apperteyneth to every nacion,
Which, by craft some token should tell
Whan any kingdom fil in rebellion, &c h.

This fiction is not in Boccace, Lydgate's original. It is in the above-cited Gothic history of Virgil. Gower's Virgil, I think, belongs to the same romance.

And eke Virgil of acqueintance
I sigh, where he the maiden prayd,
Which was the doughter, as men sayd,
Of the emperour whilom of Rome i.

CHAP. lviii. King Asmodeus pardons every malefactor con­demned to death, who can tell three indisputable truths or maxims.

[Page xxvii] CHAP. lix. The emperor Jovinian's history.

On this there is an antient French MORALITE, entitled, L'Orgueil et pre [...]omption de l'Empereur JOVINIAN k. This is also the story of ROBERT king of Sicily, an old English poem, or romance, from which I have given copious extracts l.

CHAP. lx. A king has a daughter named Rosimund, aged ten years; exceedingly beautiful, and so swift of foot, that her father promises her in marriage to any man who can overcome her in running. But those who fail in the attempt are to lose their heads. After many trials, in which she was always victo­rious, she loses the race with a poor man, who throws in her way a silken girdle, a garland of roses, and a silken purse in­closing a golden ball, inscribed, ‘"whoso plays with me will never be satiated with play."’ She marries the poor man, who inherits her father's kingdom.

This is evidently a Gothic innovation of the classical tale of Atalanta. But it is not impossible that an oriental apologue might have given rise to the Grecian fable.

CHAP. lxi. The emperor Claudius marries his daughter to the philosopher Socrates.

CHAP. lxii. Florentina's picture.

CHAP. lxiii. Vespasian's daughter's garden. All her lovers are obliged to enter this garden before they can obtain her love, but none return alive. The garden is haunted by a lion; and has only one entrance, which divides into so many windings, that it never can be found again. At length, she furnishes a knight with a ball or clue of thread, and teaches him how to foil the lion. Having achieved this adventure, he marries the lady.

Here seems to be an allusion to Medea's history.

CHAP. lxiv. A virgin is married to a king, because she makes him a shirt of a piece of cloth three fingers long and broad.

CHAP. lxv. A cross with four inscriptions.

[Page xxviii] CHAP. lxvi. A knight offers to recover a lady's inheritance, which had been seized by a tyrant; on condition, that if he is slain, she shall always keep his bloody armour hanging in her chamber. He regains her property, although he dies in the attempt; and as often as she was afterwards fued for in marriage, before she gave an answer, she returned to her chamber, and contemplating with tears her deliverer's bloody armour, resolutely rejected every sollicitation.

CHAP. lxvii. The wise and foolish knight.

CHAP. lxviii. A woman understands the language of birds. The three cocks.

CHAP. lxix. A mother gives to a man who marries her daughter a shirt, which can never be torn, nor will ever need washing, while they continue faithful to each other.

CHAP. lxx. The king's daughter who requires three impossi­ble things of her lovers.

CHAP. lxxii. The king who resigns his crown to his son.

CHAP. lxxiv. The golden apple.

CHAP. lxxv. A king's three daughters marry three dukes, who all die the same year.

CHAP. lxxvi. The two physicians.

CHAP. lxxix. The fable of the familiar ass.

CHAP. lxxx. A devout hermit lived in a cave, near which a shepherd folded his flock. Many of the sheep being stolen, the shepherd was unjustly killed by his master as being con­cerned in the theft. The hermit seeing an innocent man put to death, began to suspect the existence of a divine Providence; and resolved no longer to perplex himself with the useless seve­ties of religion, but to mix in the world. In travelling from his retirement, he was met by an angel in the figure of a man; who said, ‘"I am an angel, and am sent by God to be your companion on the road."’ They entered a city; and begged for lodging at the house of a knight, who entertained them at a splendid supper. In the night, the angel rose from his bed, and strangled the knight's only child who was asleep in the [Page xxix] cradle. The hermit was astonished at this barbarous return for so much hospitality, but was afraid to make any remonstrance to his companion. Next morning they went to another city. Here they were liberally received in the house of an opulent citizen; but in the night the angel rose, and stole a golden cup of inestimable value. The hermit now concluded, that his companion was a Bad Angel. In travelling forward the next morning, they passed over a bridge; about the middle of which they met a poor man, of whom the angel asked the way to the next city. Having received the desired information, the angel pushed the poor man into the water, where he was immediately drowned. In the evening they arrived at the house of a rich man; and begging for a lodging, were ordered to sleep in a shed with the cattle. In the morning the angel gave the rich man the cup which he had stolen. The hermit, amazed that the cup which was stolen from their friend and bene­factor should be given to one who refused them a lodging, began to be now convinced that his companion was the devil; and begged to go on alone. But the angel said, ‘"Hear me, and depart. When you lived in your hermitage a shepherd was killed by his master. He was innocent of the supposed offence: but had he not been then killed, he would have committed crimes in which he would have died impenitent. His master endeavours to atone for the murther, by dedicating the remainder of his days to alms and deeds of charity. I strangled the child of the knight. But know, that the father was so intent on heaping up riches for this child, as to ne­glect those acts of public munificence for which he was be­fore so distinguished, and to which he has now returned. I stole the golden cup of the hospitable citizen. But know, that from a life of the [...]trictest temperance, he became, in consequence of possessing this cup, a perpetual drunkard; and is now the most abstemious of men. I threw the poor man into the water. He was then honest and religious. But know, had he walked one half of a mile further, he would [Page xxx] have murthered a man in a state of mortal sin. I gave the golden cup to the rich man who refused to take us within his roof. He has therefore received his reward in this world; and in the next, will suffer the pains of hell for his inhospi­tality."’ The hermit fell prostrate at the angel's feet; and re­questing forgiveness, returned to his hermitage, fully convinced of the wisdom and justice of God's government.

This is the fable of Parnell's HERMIT, which that elegant yet original writer has heightened with many masterly touches of poetical colouring, and a happier arrangement of circum­stances. Among other proofs which might be mentioned of Parnell's genius and address in treating this subject, by reserving the discovery of the angel to a critical period at the close of the fable, he has found means to introduce a beautiful description, and an interesting surprise. In this poem, the last instance of the angel's seeming injustice, is that of pushing the guide from the bridge into the river. At this, the hermit is unable to suppress his indignation.

Wild sparkling rage inflames the Father's eyes,
He bursts the bonds of fear, and madly cries,
"Detested wretch!"—But scarce his speech began,
When the strange partner seem'd no longer man:
His youthful face grew more serenely sweet,
His robe turn'd white, and flow'd upon his feet;
Fair rounds of radiant points invest his hair;
Celestial odours fill the purple air:
And wings, whose colours glitter'd on the day,
Wide at his back their gradual plumes display.
The form ethereal bursts upon his sight,
And moves in all the majesty of light.

The same apologue occurs, with some slight additions and variations for the worse, in Howell's LETTERS; who professes to have taken it from the speculative sir Philip Herbert's CONCEPTIONS [Page xxxi] to his Son, a book which I have never seen m. These Letters were published about the year 1650. It is also found in the DIVINE DIALOGUES of doctor Henry More n, who has illustrated its important moral with the following fine reflections. ‘"The affairs of this world are like a curious, but intricately contrived Comedy; and we cannot judge of the tendency of what is past, or acting at present, before the entrance of the last Act, which shall bring in Righteousness in triumph: who, though she hath abided many a brunt, and has been very cruelly and despightfully used hitherto in the world, yet at last, according to our desires, we shall see the knight over­come the giant. For what is the reason we are so much pleased with the reading romances and the fictions of the poets, but that here, as Aristotle says, things are set down as they should be; but in the true history hitherto of the world, things are recorded indeed as they are, but it is but a testi­mony, that they have not been as they should be? Where­fore, in the upshot of all, when we shall see that come to pass, that so mightily pleases us in the reading the most ingenious plays and heroick poems, that long afflicted vertue at last comes to the crown, the mouth of all unbelievers must be for ever stopped. And for my own part, I doubt not but that it will so come to pass in the close of the world. But impatiently to call for vengeance upon every enormity before that time, is rudely to overturn the stage before the entrance into the fifth act, out of ignorance of the plot of the comedy; and to prevent the solemnity of the general judgement by more paltry and particular executions o."’

Parnell seems to have chiefly followed the story as it is told by this Platonic theologist, who had not less imagination than learning. Pope used to say, that it was originally written in [Page xxxii] Spanish. This I do not believe: but from the early connection between the Spaniards and Arabians, this assertion tends to con­firm the suspicion, that it was an oriental tale.

CHAP. lxxxi. A king violates his sister. The child is ex­posed in a chest in the sea; is christened Gregory by an abbot who takes him up, and after various adventures he is promoted to the popedom. In their old age his father and mother go a pilgrimage to Rome, in order to confess to this pope, not know­ing he was their son, and he being equally ignorant that they are his parents: when in the course of the confession, a discovery is made on both sides.

CHAP. lxxxix. The three rings.

This story is in the DECAMERON p, and in the CENTO NOVELLE ANTICHE q: and perhaps in Swift's TALE OF A TUB.

CHAP. xcv. The tyrant Maxentius. From the GESTA RO­MANORUM, which are cited.

I think there is the romance of MAXENCE, Constantine's antagonist.

CHAP. xcvi. King Alexander places a burning candle in his hall; and makes proclamation, that he will absolve all those who owe him forfeitures of life and land, if they will appear before the candle is consumed.

CHAP. xcvii. Prodigies before the death of Julius Cesar, who is placed in the twenty-second year of the city. From the CRONICA, as they are called.

CHAP. xcix. A knight saves a serpent who is fighting in a forest with a toad r, but is afterwards bit by the toad. The knight languishes many days: and when he is at the point of death, the same serpent, which he remembers, enters his cham­ber, and sucks the poison from the wound.

[Page xxxiii] CHAP. ci. Of Ganterus, who for his prowess in war being elected a king of a certain country, is on the night of his coro­nation conducted to a chamber, where at the head of the bed is a fierce lion, at the feet a dragon, and on either side a bear, toads, and serpents. He immediately quitted his new kingdom; and was quickly elected king of another country. Going to rest the first night, he was led into a chamber furnished with a bed richly embroidered, but stuck all over with sharp razors. This kingdom he also relinquishes. At length he meets a hermit, who gives him a staff, with which he is directed to knock at the gate of a magnificent palace, seated on a lofty mountain. Here he gains admittance, and finds every sort of happiness unembittered with the laest degree of pain.

The king means every man advanced to riches and honour, and who thinks to enjoy these advantages without interruption and alloy. The hermit is religion, the staff penitence, and the palace heaven.

In a more confined sense, the first part of this apologue may be separately interpreted to signify, that a king, when he enters on his important charge, ought not to suppose himself to succeed to the privilege of an exemption from care, and to be put into immediate possession of the highest pleasures, conveniencies, and felicities of life; but to be sensible, that from that moment, he begins to encounter the greatest dangers and difficulties.

CHAP. cii. Of the lady of a knight who went to the holy land. She commits adultery with a clerk skilled in ne­cromancy. Another magician discovers her intrigues to the absent knight by means of a polished mirror, and his image in wax.

In Adam Davie's GEST or romance of ALEXANDER, Nec­tabanus, a king and magician, discovers the machinations of his enemies by embattelling them in figures of wax. This is the most extensive necromantic operation of the kind that I remember, and must have formed a puppet-shew equal to the most splendid pantomime.

Barounes weore whilom wys and gode,
That this arss wel undurstode:
Ac on ther was Neptanamous
Wist in this ars and malicious:
Whan kyng other eorlu cam on him to weorre w
Quyk he loked in the steorre x;
Of wax made him popetts y,
And made heom fyȝhte with battes:
And so he learned, je vous dy,
Ay to aquellez hys enemye,
With charms and with conjurisons:
Thus he asaied the regiouns,
That him cam for to asaile,
In puyra manyr of bataile b;
By cler candel in the nyȝt,
He mad uchonc with othir to fyȝt,
Of alle manere nacyouns,
That comen by schip or dromouns.
At the laste, of mony londe
Kynges therof haden gret onde d,
Well thritty y gadred beoth e,
And by spekith al his deth f.
Kyng Philippg of grete thede
Maister was of that fede h:
He was a mon of myȝty hond,
With hem brouȝte, of divers lond,
Nyne and twenty ryche kynges,
To make on hym bataylynges:
[Page xxxv] Neptanamous hyt understod;
Ychaunged was al his mod;
He was aferde sore of harme:
Anon he deedei caste his charme [...]
His ymage he madde anon,
And of his barounes everychon,
And afterward of his fone k;
He dude hem to gedere to gon l
In a basyn al by charme:
He saȝh on himm fel theo harme;
He seyȝ flyen of his barounes
Of al his lond distinctiouns,
He lokid, and kneow in the sterre,
Of al this kynges theo grete werre o, &c. p

Afterwards he frames an image of the queen Olympias, or Olympia, while sleeping, whom he violates in the shape of a dragon.

Theo lady lyȝt onq hire bedde,
Yheoledr wel with silken webbe,
In a chaysel s smok scheo lay,
And yn a mantell of doway:
Of theo bryȝtnes of hire face
Al about schone the place t.—
[Page xxxvi] Herbes he tok in an herber,
And stamped them in a morter,
And wrongx hit in a box:
After he tok virgyn wox
And made a popet after the quene,
His ars-tabl [...] y he can unwrene;
The quenes name in the wax he wrot [...]
Whil hit was sumdel hot:
In a bed he hit dyȝt
Al aboute with candel lyȝt,
And spreyndz theron of the herbus [...]
Thus charmed Neptanabus.
The lady in hir bed lay
Abouȝt mydnyȝt, ar the day a,
Whiles he made conjuryng,
Scheob sawe fle c, in her metyng d,
Hire thought, a dragoun lyȝt,
To hire chaumbre he made his flyȝt,
In he cam to her bour
And crept undur hir covertour,
Mony sithese he hire kust f
And fast in his armes prust,
And went away, so dragon wyld,
And grete he left hire with child g.

[Page xxxvii] Theocritus, Virgil, and Horace, have left instances of incan­ [...]ations conducted by figures in wax. In the beginning of the last century, many witches were executed for attempting the lives of persons, by fabricating representations of them in wax and clay. King James the first, in his DAEMONOLOGIE, speaks of this practice [...]s very common; the efficacy of which he pe­remptorily ascribes to the power of the devil h. His majesty's arguments, intended to prove how the magician's image ope­rated on the person represented, are drawn from the depths of moral, theological, physical, and metaphysical knowledge. The Arabian magic abounded with these infatuations, which were partly founded on the doctrine of sympathy.

But to return to the GESTA ROMANORUM. In this story one of the magicians is styled Magister peritus, and sometimes simply Magister. That is, a cunning-man. The title Magister in our universities has its origin from the use of this word in the middle ages. With what propriety it is now continued I will not say. Mystery, antiently used for a particular art i, or skill in general, is a specious and easy corruption of Maistery or Mastery, the English of the Latin MAGISTERIUM, or Arti­ficium; in French Maistrise, Mestier, Mestrie, and in Italian Ma­gisterio, with the same sense k. In the French romance of CLEO­MEDES, a physician is called simply Mait [...]e l.

Lie sont de chou qu'il n'y a
Peril et que bien garira:
Car il li MAISTRE ainsi dit leur ont.

[Page xxxviii] And the medical art is styled Mestrie. ‘"Quant il (the surgeon) aperçut que c'estoit maladie non mie curable par nature et par MESTRIE, et par medicine, &c m."’ Maistrise is used for art or workmanship, in the CHRONICON of Saint Denis, ‘"Entr [...] [...]es autres presens, li envoia une horologe de laton, ouvrez par marveilleuse MAISTRISE n."’ That the Latin MAGISTERIUM has precisely the same sense appears from an account of the con­tract for building the conventual church of Casino in Italy, in the year 1349. The architects agree to build the church in the form of the Lateran at Rome. ‘"Et in casu si aliquis [defectus] in eorum MAGISTERIO appareret, promiserunt resarcire o."’ Chaucer, in the ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE, uses MAISTRIS [...] [...]or artifice and workmanship.

Was made a toure of grete maistrise,
A fairer saugh no man with sight,
Large, and wide, and of grete might, &c p.

And, in the same poem, in describing the shoes of MIRTH.

And shode he was, with gr [...]te maistrie,
With shone decopid and with lace q.

MAYSTRYE occurs in the description of a lady's saddle, in SYR LAUNFAL'S romance.

Her sadell was semely sett,
The sambus r were grene felvett,
[Page xxxix] I paynted with ymagerye;
The bordure was of belles s
Of ryche golde and nothynge elles
That any man myȝt aspie:
In the arsounist before and behynde
Were [...]wey stones of Ynde
Gay for the maystrye.
The paytrellu of her palfraye
Was worth an earldom, &c.

‘"In the saddle-bow were two jewels of In [...]ia, very beautiful [Page xl] to be seen, in consequence of the great art with which they were wrought x."’ Chaucer calls his Monke,

—fayre for the Maistrie,
An outrider, that lovid venery y.

Fayre for the Maistrie means, skilled in the Maistrie of the game, La Maistrise du Venerie, or the science of hunting, then so much a favorite, as simply and familiarly to be called the maistrie. From many other instances which I could produce, I will only add, that the search of the Philosopher's Stone is called in the Latin Geber, INVESTIGATIO MAGISTERII.

CHAP. ciii. The merchant who sells three wise maxims to the wife of Domitian.

CHAP. [...]iv. A knight in hunting meets a lion, from whose foot he extracts a thorn. Afterwards he becomes an outlaw; and being seized by the king, is condemned to be thrown into a deep pit to be devoured by a hungry lion. The lion fawns on the knight, whom he perceives to be the same that drew the thorn from his paw. Then said the king, ‘"I will learn forbearance from the beasts. As the lion has spared your life, when it was in his power to take it, I therefore grant you a free pardon. Depart, and be admonished hence to live virtuously."’

The learned reader must immediately recollect a similar story of one Androclus, who being exposed to fight with wild beasts in the Roman amphitheatre, is recognised and unattacked by a most savage lion, whom he had formerly healed exactly in the same manner. But I believe the whole is nothing more than an oriental apologue on gratitude, written much earlier; and that it here exists in its original state. Androclus's story is related by Aulus Gellius, on the authority of a Greek writer, one Ap­pion, called Plistonices, who flourished under Tiberius. The cha­racter of Appion, with which Gellius prefaces this tale, in some measure invalidates his credit; notwithstanding he pretends to [Page xli] have been an eye witness of this extraordinary fact. ‘"Ejus libri, says Gellius, non incelebres feruntur; quibus, omnium ferme quae mirifica in Aegypto visuntur audiunturque, historia comprehen­ditur. Sed in his quae audivisse et legisse [...]ese dicit, fortasse a vitio studioque ostentationis [...]it loquacior, &c z."’ Had our compiler of the GESTA taken this story from Gellius, it is probable he would have told it with some of the same circum­stances: especially as Gellius is a writer whom he frequently follows, and even quotes; and to whom, on this occasion, he might have been obliged for a few more strokes of the marvel­lous. But the two writers agree only in the general subject. Our compiler's narrative has much more simplicity than that of Gellius; and contains marks of eastern manners and life. Let me add, that the oriental fabulists are fond of illustrating and enforcing the duty of gratitude, by feigning instances of the gratitude of beasts towards men. And of this the present compilation, which is strongly tinctured with orientalism, affords several other proofs.

CHAP. cv. Theodosius the bl [...]d emperor ordained, that the cause of every injured person should be heard, on ringing a bell placed in a public part of his palace. A serpent had a nest near the spot where the bell-rope fell. In the absence of the serpent, a toad took possession of her nest. The serpent twisting herself round the rope, rang the bell for justice; and by the emperor's special command the toad was killed. A few days afterwards, as the king was reposing on his couch, the serpent entered the chamber, bearing a precious stone in her mouth. The serpent creeping up to the emperor's face, laid the precious stone on his eyes, and glided out of the apartment. Immediately the em­peror was restored to his sight.

This circumstance of the Bell of Justice occurs in the real history of some eastern monarch, whose name I have forgot.

[Page xlii] In the Arabian philosophy, serpents, either from the bright­ness of their eyes, or because they inhabit the cavities of the earth, were considered as having a natural, or occult, connection with precious stones. In Alphonsus's CLERICALIS DISCI­PLINA, a snake is mentioned, whose eyes were real jacinths. In Alexander's romantic history, he is said to have found ser­pents in the vale of Jordian, with collars of huge emeralds growing on their necks a. The toad, under a vulgar indiscri­minating idea, is ranked with the reptile race: and Shakespeare has a beautiful comparison on the traditionary notion, that the toad has a rich gem inclosed within its head. Milton gives his serpent eyes of carbuncle b.

CHAP. cvi. The three fellow-travellers, who have only one loaf of bread.

This apologue is in Alphonsus.

CHAP. cvii. There was an image in the city of Rome, which stretched forth its right hand, on the middle finger of which was written STRIKE HERE. For a long time none could un­derstand the meaning of this mysterious inscription. At length a certain subtle Clerk, who came to see this famous image, ob­served, as the sun shone against it, the shadow of the inscribed finger on the ground at some distance. He immediately took a spade, and began to dig exactly on that spot. He came at length to a flight of steps which descended far under ground, and led him to a stately palace. Here he entered a hall, where he saw a king and queen sitting at table, with their nobles and a multitude of people, all clothed in rich garments. But no per­son spake a word. He looked towards one corner, where he saw a polished carbuncle, which illuminated the whole room c. In [Page xliii] the opposite corner he perceived the figure of a man standing, having a bended bow with an arrow in his hand, as prepared to shoot. On his forehead was written, ‘"I am, who am. No­thing can escape my stroke, not even yonder carbuncle which shines so bright."’ The Clerk beheld all with amazement; and entering a chamber, saw the most beautiful ladies working at the loom in purple d. But all was silence. He then entered a stable full of the most excellent horses and asses: he touched some of them, and they were instantly turned into stone. He next surveyed all the apartments of the palace, which abounded [Page xliv] with all that his wishes could desire. He again visited the hal [...], and now began to reflect how he should return; ‘"but, says he, my report of all these wonders will not be believed, unless I carry something back with me."’ He therefore took from the principal table a golden cup and a golden knife, and placed them in his bosom. When, the man who stood in the corner with the bow, immediately shot at the carbuncle, which he shattered into a thousand pieces. At that moment the hall be­came dark as night. In this darkness not being able to find hi [...] way, he remained in the subterraneous palace, and soon died a miserable death.

In the MORALISATION of this story, the steps by which the Clerk descends into the earth are supposed to be the Passions. The palace, so richly stored, is the world with all its vanities and temptations. The figure with the bow bent is Death, and the carbuncle is Human Life. He suffers for his avarice in coveting and seizing what was not his own; and no sooner has he taken the golden knife and cup, that is, enriched himself with the goods of this world, than he is delivered up to the gloom and horrors of the grave.

Spenser in the FAERIE QUEENE, seems to have distantly re­membered this fable, where a fiend expecting sir Guyon will be tempted to snatch some of the treasures of the subterraneous HOUSE OF RICHESSE, which are displayed in his view, i [...] prepared to fasten upon him.

Thereat the fiend his gnas [...]ing teeth did grate,
And griev'd so long to lack his greedie pray;
For well he weened that so glorious bayte
Would tempt his guest to take thereof assay:
Had he so doen, he had him snatcht away
More light than culver in the faucon's fist e.

This story was originally invented of pope Gerbert, or Sylvester [Page xlv] the second, who died in the year 1003. He was emi­nently learned in the mathematical sciences, and on that ac­count was styled a magician. William of Malmesbury is, I believe, the first writer now extant by whom it is recorded: and he produces it partly to shew, that Gerbert was not always successful in those attempts which he so frequently practised to discover treasures hid in the earth, by the application of the ne­cromantic arts. I will translate Malmesbury's narration of this fable, as it varies in some of the circumstances, and has some heightenings of the fiction. ‘"At Rome there was a brazen statue, extending the forefinger of the right hand; and on its forehead was written Strike here. Being suspected to conceal a treasure, it had received many bruises from the credulous and ignorant, in their endeavours to open it. At length Gerbert unriddled the mystery. At noon-day observing the reflection of the forefinger on the ground, he marked the spot. At night he came to the place, with a page carrying a lamp. There by a magical operation he opened a wide passage in the earth; through which they both descended, and came to a vast palace. The walls, the beams, and the whole structure, were of gold: they saw golden images of knights playing at chess, with a king and queen of gold at a banquet, with numerous attendants in gold, and cups of immense size and value. In a recess was a carbuncle, whose lustre illuminated the whole palace: opposite to which stood a figure with a bended bow. As they attempted to touch some of the rich furniture, all the golden images seemed to rush upon them. Gerbert was too wise to attempt this a second time: but the page was bold enough to snatch from the table a golden knife of ex­quisite workmanship. At that moment, all the golden images rose up with a dreadful noise; the figure with the bow shot at the carbuncle; and a total darkness ensued. The page then replaced the knife, otherwise, they both would have suffered a cruel death."’ Malmesbury afterwards mentions a brazen bridge, framed by the enchantments of Gerbert, beyond which [Page xlvi] were golden horses of a gigantic size, with riders of gold richly illuminated by the most serene meridian sun. A large company attempt to pass the bridge, with a design of stealing some pieces of the gold. Immediately the bridge rose from its foundations, and stood perpendicular on one end: a brazen man appeared from beneath it, who struck the water with a mace of brass, and the sky was overspread with the most horrible gloom. Gerbert, like some other learned necromancers of the Gothic ages, was supposed to have fabricated a brazen head under the influence of certain planets, which answered questions. But I forbear to suggest any more hints for a future collection of Ara­bian tales. I shall only add Malmesbury's account of the educa­tion of Gerbert, which is a curious illustration of what has been often inculcated in these volumes, concerning the introduc­tion of romantic fiction into Europe f. ‘"Gerbert, a native of France, went into Spain for the purpose of learning astrology, and other sciences of that cast, of the Saracens; who, to this day, occupy the upper regions of Spain. They are seated in the metropolis of Seville; where, according to the cus­tomary practice of their country, they study the arts of divi­nation and enchantment.—Here Gerbert soon exceeded Ptolemy in the astrolabe, Alchind in astronomy, and Julius Firmicus in fatality. Here he learned the meaning of the flight and language of birds, and was taught how to raise spectres from hell. Here he acquired whatever human cu­riosity has discovered for the destruction or convenience of mankind. I say nothing of his knowledge in arithmetic, music, and geometry; which he so fully understood as to think them beneath his genius, and which he yet with great industry introduced into France, where they had been long forgotten. He certainly was the first who brought the algorithm from the Saracens, and who illustrated it with [Page xlvii] such rules as the most studious in that science cannot explain. He lodged with a philosopher of that sect g, &c."’

I conclude this chapter with a quotation from the old me­trical romance of SYR LIBEAUX DIASCONIOS, where the knight, in his attempt to disenchant the Lady of Sinadone, after entering the hall of the castle of the necromancers, is almost in similar circumstances with our subterraneous adven­turers. The passage is rich in Gothic imageries; and the most striking part of the poem, which is mentioned by Chaucer as a popular romance.

Syr Lybeaus, knyȝt corteys h,
Rode ynto the palys,
And atte the halle alyȝte i:
Trompes, shalmuses k,
He seyȝ, be fore the heyȝ deys l,
Stonde in hys syȝte.
A mydde the halle flore,
A fere, sterke and store m,
Was lyȝt, and brende bryȝt n.
Ner the dor he ȝede o,
And laddep yn hys stede
That wont was help hym in fyȝt.
Lybeaus innerq gan pace
To se eche a place r,
[Page xlviii] The haless in the halle,
Of mayne mor ne lasse
Ne sawe he body ne face t,
But menestrelles yclothen yn palle, &c. u
So much melodye
Was never with ynne walle.
Before ech menstrell stode
A torche ferw and gode,
Brennynge fayre and bryȝt.
Inner more he ȝede,
To wyte, with egre mode
Who scholdex with hym fyȝt:
He ȝede ynto the corneres,
And loked on the pileres,
That selcouth wer of syȝt,
Of jasper and of fyn crystall, &c.
The dores wer of bras;
The windowes wer of glas
Ffloryssed with imagerye y [...]
The halle ypaynted was z [...]
No rycher never ther was
That he hadde seye with eye a.
He sette hym on the hye deys b,
The mynstrelles were yn pes c,
That were so gode and trye d.
The torches that brende bryȝt e.
Quenched anon ryȝt f;
The menstrelles were awaye g:
[Page xlix] Dores, and wyndowes alle,
Beten yn the halle
As hyt wer voys of thunder, &c.—
As he sate tho dismayde,
And helde hymselfe betrayde,
Steedes herde he naye, &c h.

This castle is called, ‘"A paleys queynt of gynne,"’ and, ‘"by negremancye ymaketh of fayrye i."’

CHAP. cviii. The mutual fidelity of two thieves.

CHAP. cix. The chest and the three pasties.

A like story is in Boccace's DECAMERON k, in the CENTO NOVELLE ANTICHE l, and in Gower's CONFESSIO AMANTIS m.

The story, however, as it stands in Gower, seems to be co­pied from one which is told by the hermit Barlaam to king Avenamore, in the spiritual romance, written originally in Greek about the year 800, by Joannes Damascenus a Greek monk n, and translated into Latin before the thirteenth century, entitled, BARLAAM and JOSAPHAT o. But Gower's imme­diate author, if not Boccace, was perhaps Vincent of Beauvais, who wrote about the year 1290, and who has incorporated Damascenus's history of Barlaam and Josaphat p, who were canonised, into his SPECULUM HISTORIALE q. As Bar­laam's fable is probably the remote but original source of Shakespeare's CASKETTS in the MERCHANT OF VENICE, I will give the reader a translation of the passage in which it occurs, from the Greek original, never yet printed. ‘"The king commanded four chests to be made: two of which were covered with gold, and secured by golden locks, but [Page l] filled with the rotten bones of human carcasses. The other two were overlaid with pitch, and bound with rough cords; but replenished with pretious stones and the most exquisite gems, and with ointments of the richest odour. He called his nobles together; and placing these chests before them, asked which they thought the most valuable. They pronounced those with the golden coverings to be the most pretious, sup­posing they were made to contain the crowns and girdles of the king r. The two chests covered with pitch they viewed with contempt. Then said the king, I presumed what would be your determination: for ye look with the eyes of sense. But to discern baseness or value, which are hid within, we must look with the eyes of the mind. He then ordered the golden chests to be opened, which exhaled an intolerable stench, and filled the beholders with horror s."’ In the ME­TRICAL LIVES OF THE SAINTS, written about the year 1300, these chests are called four fates, that is, four vats or vessels t.

I make no apology for giving the reader a translation from the same Greek original, which is now before me, of the story of the Boy told in the DECAMERON. ‘"A king had an only son. As soon as he was born, the physicians declared, that if he was allowed to see the sun, or any fire, before he arrived at the age of twelve years, he would be blind. The king com­manded an apartment to be hewed within a rock, into which no light could enter; and here he shut up the boy, totally in the dark, yet with proper attendants, for twelve years. At the end of which time, he brought him abroad from his gloomy chamber, and placed in his view, men, women, gold, pre­tious stones, rich garments, chariots of exquisite workmanship [Page li] drawn by horses with golden bridles, heaps of purple tapestry, armed knights on horseback, oxen and sheep. These were all distinctly pointed out to the youth: but being most pleased with the women, he desired to know by what name they were called. An esquire of the king jocosely told him, that they were devils who catch men. Being brought to the king, he was asked which he liked best of all the fine things he had seen. He replied, the devils who catch men, &c."’ I need not enlarge on Boccace's improvements u.

This romantic legend of Barlaam and Josaphat, which is a history of considerable length, is undoubtedly the composition of one who had an intercourse with the east: and from the strong traces which it contains of the oriental mode of mora­lising, appears plainly to have been written, if not by the monk whose name it bears, at least by some devout and learned ascetic of the Greek church, and probably before the tenth century.

Leland mentions DAMASCENUS DE GESTIS BARLAAM ET JOSAPHAT, as one of the manuscripts which he saw in Nettley­abbey near Southampton w.

CHAP. cx. The life of the knight Placidus, or Placidas x, afterwards called Eustacius.

It occurs in Caxton's GOLDEN LEGENDE y. Among the Cotton manuscripts there is a metrical legend or romance on this story z.

CHAP. cxi. The classical story of Argus and Mercury, with some romantic additions. Mercury comes to Argus in the cha­racter of a minstrel, and lulls him to sleep by telling him tales and singing, incepit more histrionico fabulas dicere, et plerumque cantare.

[Page lii] CHAP. cxii. The son of king Gorgonius is beloved by hi [...] step-mother. He is therefore sent to seek his fortune in a foreign country, where he studies physic; and returning, heals his father of a dangerous disease, who recovers at the sight of him. The step-mother, hearing of his return, falls sick, and dies at seeing him.

CHAP. cxiii. The tournaments of the rich king Adonias [...] A party of knights arrive the first day, who lay their shields aside, in one place. The same number arrives the second day, each of whom chuses his antagonist by touching with his spear the shield of one of the first day's party, not knowing the owner.

The most curious anecdote of chivalry, now on record, oc­curs in the ecclesiastical history of Spain. Alphonsus the ninth, about the year 1214, having expelled the Moors from Toledo, endeavoured to establish the Roman missal in the place of saint Isidore's. This alarming innovation was obstinately opposed by the people of Toledo; and the king found that his project would be attended with almost insuperable difficulties. The contest at length between the two missals grew so serious, that it was mutually resolved to decide the controversy, not by a theological disputation, but by single combat; in which the champion of the Toletan missal proved victorious a.

Many entertaining passages relating to trials by single combat may be seen in the old Imperial and Lombard laws. In Caxton's BOKE OF THE FAYTTES OF ARMES AND OF CHIVALRYE, printed at Westminster in the year 1489, and translated from the French of Christine of Pisa, many of the chapters towards the end are compiled from that singular monument of Gothic legislation.

CHAP. cxv. An intractable elephant is lulled asleep in a forest by the songs and blandishments of two naked virgins. One of them cuts off his head, the other carries a bowl of his blood to [Page liii] the king. Rex vero gavisus est valde, et statim fecit fieri PUR­PURAM, et multa alia, de eodem sanguine.

In this wild tale, there are circumstances enough of general analogy, if not of peculiar parallelism, to recall to my memory the following beautiful description, in the manuscript romance of SYR LAUNFAL, of two damsels, whom the knight unex­pectedly meets in a desolate forest.

As he sate in sorowe and sore,
He sawe come out of holtes hore
Gentyll maydenes two;
Thar kertelles were of Inde sandel b
I lassedc smalle, jolyf and wel;
Thar myȝtd noon gayer go.
Thar manteles were of grene felwette e
Ybordured with golde ryȝte welle ysette,
I peluredf with gris and gro g;
Har heddysh wer dyȝt well withall,
Everych hadde on a jolyf coronall,
With sixty gemmys and mo i.
Har faces was whyte as snowe on downe,
Har rodek was red, har eyn were broune,
I sawe never none swyche l.
The oon bar of gold a basyn,
That other a towayle whyt and fyn,
Of sylk that was goode and ryche.
Har kercheves wer well schyre m
Arayd with ryche gold wyre, &c. n

CHAP. cxvi. The queen of Pepin king of France died in childbed, leaving a son. He married a second wife, who bore [Page liv] a son within a year. These children were sent abroad to be nursed. The surviving queen, anxious to see her child, desired that both the boys might be brought home. They were so exceedingly alike, that the one could not be distinguished from the other, except by the king. The mother begged the king to point out her own son. This he refused to do, till they were both grown up; left she should spoil him by too fond a partia­lity. Thus they were both properly treated with uniform affec­tion, and without excess of indulgence.

A favorite old romance is founded on the indistinctible like­ness of two of Charlemagne's knights, Amys and Amelion; ori­ginally celebrated by Turpin, and placed by Vincent of Beauvais under the reign of Pepin o.

CHAP. cxvii. The law of the emperor Frederick, that who­ever rescued a virgin from a rape might claim her for his wife.

CHAP. cxviii. A knight being in Egypt, recovers a thousand talents which he had entrusted to a faithless friend, by the artifice of an old woman.

This tale is in Alphonsus. And in the CENTO NOVELLE ANTICHE p.

CHAP. cxix. A king had an oppressive Seneshall, who passing through a forest, fell into a deep pit, in which were a lion, an ape, and a serpent. A poor man who gathered sticks in the forest hearing his cries, drew him up: together with the lion, the ape, and the serpent. The Seneshall returned home, pro­mising to reward the poor man with great riches. Soon after­wards the poor man went to the palace to claim the promised reward; but was ordered to be cruelly beaten by the seneshall. In the mean time, the lion drove ten asses laden with gold to the poor man's cottage: the serpent brought him a pretious stone of three colours: and the ape, when he came to the forest on his daily business, laid him heaps of wood. The poor man, in consequence of the virtues of the serpent's pretious stone, [Page lv] which he sold, arrived to the dignity of knighthood, and ac­quired ample possessions. But afterwards he found the pretious stone in his chest, which he presented to the king. The king having heard the whole story, ordered the seneshall to be put to death for his ingratitude, and preferred the poor man to his office.

This story occurs in Symeon Seth's translation of the cele­brated Arabian fable-book called CALILAH U DUMNAH q. It is recited by Matthew Paris, under the year 1195, as a parable which king Richard the first, after his return from the east, was often accustomed to repeat, by way of reproving those ungrate­ful princes who refused to engage in the crusade r. It is versified by Gower, who omits the lion, as Matthew Paris does the ape, in the fifth book of the CONFESSIO AMANTIS s. He thus describes the services of the ape and serpent to the poor man [...] who gained his livelihood by gathering sticks in a forest.

He gan his ape anone behold,
Which had gadred al aboute,
Of stickes here and there a route,
And leyde hem redy to his honde,
Whereof he made his trusse and [...]ond
From daie to daie.—
Upon a time and as he drough
Towarde the woodde, he sigh beside
The great gastly serpent glide,
Till that she came in his presence,
And in hir kynde a reverence
She hath hym do, and forthwith all
A stone more bright than a christall
Out of hir mouth to fore his waye
She lett down fall.—

[Page lvi] In Gower also, as often as the poor man sells the pretious stone, on returning home, he finds it again among the money in his purse.

The acquisition of riches, and the multiplication of treasure, by invisible agency, is a frequent and favorite fiction of the Arabian romance. Thus, among the presents given to Sir Launfal by the Lady Triamore, daughter of the king of Faerie.

I will the ȝevet an Alver u,
I mad of sylver and gold cler,
With fayre ymages thre:
As ofte thou puttest thy honde ther ynne,
A marke of golde thou shalt wynne w,
In wat place shalt thou be x.

CHAP. XX. King Darius's legacy to his three sons. To the eldest he bequeathes all his paternal inheritance: to the second, all that he had acquired by conquest: and to the third, a ring and necklace, both of gold, and a rich cloth. All the three last gifts were endued with magical virtues. Whoever wore the ring on his finger, gained the love or favour of all whom he desired to please. Whoever hung the necklace over his breast, obtained all his heart could desire. Whoever sate down on the cloth, could be instantly transported to any part of the world which he chose.

From this beautiful tale, of which the opening only is here given, Occleve, commonly called Chaucer's disciple, framed a poem in the octave stanza, which was printed in the year 1614, by William Browne, in his set of Eclogues called the SHEP­HEARDS PIPE. Occleve has literally followed the book before us, and has even translated into English prose the MORALISA­TION annexed y. He has given no sort of embellishment to his [Page lvii] original, and by no means deserves the praises which Browne in the following elegant pastoral lyrics has bestowed on his per­formance, and which more justly belong to the genuine Gothic, or rather Arabian, inventor.

Well I wot, the man that first
Sung this lay, did quenche his thirst
Deeply as did ever one
In the Muses Helicon.
Many times he hath been seene
With the faeries on the greene,
And to them his pipe did sound
As they danced in a round;
Mickle solace would they make him,
And at midnight often wake him,
And convey him from his roome
To a fielde of yellow broome,
Or into the medowes where
Mints perfume the gentle aire,
And where Flora spreads her treasure
There they would beginn their measure.
If it chancd night's sable shrowds
Muffled Cynthia up in clowds,
Safely home they then would see him,
And from brakes and quagmires free him.
There are few such swaines as he
Now a dayes for harmonie z.

The history of Darius, who gave this legacy to his three sons, is incorporated with that of Alexander, which has been deco­rated with innumerable fictions by the Arabian writers. There is also a separate romance on Darius. And on Philip of Macedon a.

[Page lviii] CHAP. cxxiv. Of the knights who intercede for their friend with a king, by coming to his court, each half on horse back and half on foot.

This is the last novel in the CENTO NOVELLE ANTICHE.

CHAP. cxxvi. Macrobius is cited for the address and humour of an ingenuous boy named Papirius.

This is one of the most lively stories in Macrobius a.

CHAP. cxxviii. The forged testament of the wicked knight, under the reign of Maximian.

CHAP. cxxix. A young prince is sent on his travels. His three friends.

CHAP. cxxxii. The four physicians.

CHAP. cxxxiii. The king and his two greyhounds.

CHAP. cxxxiv. A story from Seneca.

CHAP. cxxxv. The story of Lucretia, from saint Austin's CITY OF GOD.

A more classical authority for this story, had it been at hand, would have been slighted for saint Austin's CITY OF GOD, which was the favorite spiritual romance; and which, as the transition from religion to gallantry was antiently very easy, gave rise to the famous old French romance called the CITY OF LADIES.

CHAP. cxxxvii. The Roman emperor who is banished for his impartial distribution of justice. From the CRONICA of Eusebius.

CHAP. cxxxviii. King Medro.

CHAP. cxxxix. King Alexander, by means of a mirrour, kills a cockatrice, whose look had destroyed the greatest part of his army.

Aelian, in his VARIOUS HISTORY, mentions a serpent which appearing from the mouth of a cavern, stopped the march of Alexander's army through a spacious desert. The wild beasts, serpents, and birds, which Alexander encountered in marching through India, were most extravagantly imagined [Page lix] by the oriental fabulists, and form the chief wonders of that monarch's romance b.

CHAP. cxl. The emperor Eraclius reconciles two knights.

This story is told by Seneca of Cneius Piso c. It occurs in Chaucer's SOMPNOUR'S TALE, as taken from Senec, or Seneca d.

CHAP. cxli. A knight who had dissipated all his substance in frequenting tournaments, under the reign of Fulgentius, is re­duced to extreme poverty. A serpent haunted a chamber of his house; who being constantly fed with milk by the knight, in return made his benefactor rich. The knight's ingratitude and imprudence in killing the serpent, who was supposed to guard a treasure concealed in his chamber.

Medea's dragon guarding the golden fleece is founded on the oriental idea of treasure being guarded by serpents. We are told in Vincent of Beauvais, that there are mountains of solid gold in India guarded by dragons and griffins e.

CHAP. cxliii. A certain king ordained a law, that if any man was suddenly to be put to death, at sun-rising a trumpet should be sounded before his gate. The king made a great feast for all his nobles, at which the most skilful musicians were present f. But amidst the general festivity, the king was sad and silent. All the guests were surprised and perplexed at the king's melan­choly; but at length his brother ventured to ask him the cause. [Page lx] The king replied, ‘"Go home, and you shall hear my answer to morrow."’ The king ordered his trumpeters to sound early the next morning before his brother's gate, and to bring him with them to judgement. The brother, on hearing this unexpected dreadful summons, was seized with horror, and came before the king in a black robe. The king commanded a deep pit to be made, and a chair composed of the most frail materials, and supported by four slight legs, to be placed in­clining over the edge of the pit. In this the brother, being strip­ped naked, was seated. Over his head a sharp sword was hung by a small thread of silk. Around him four men were stationed with swords exceedingly sharp, who were to wait for the king's word, and then to kill him. In the mean time, a table co­vered with the most costly dishes was spread before him, ac­companied with all sorts of music. Then said the king, ‘"My brother, why are you so sad? Can you be dejected, in the midst of this delicious music, and with all these choice dainties?"’ He answered, ‘"How can I be glad, when I have this morning heard the trumpet of death at my doors, and while I am seated in this tottering chair? If I make the smallest mo­tion, it will break, and I shall fall into the pit, from which I shall never arise again. If I lift my head, the suspended sword will penetrate my brain; while these four tormentors only wait your command to put me to death."’ The king replied, ‘"Now I will answer your question, why I was sad yesterday. I am exactly in your situation. I am seated, like you, in a frail and perishable chair, ready to tumble to pieces every moment, and to throw me into the infernal pit. Divine judgement, like this sharp sword, hangs over my head: and I am surrounded, like you, with four executioners. That before me is Death, whose coming I cannot tell; that behind me, my Sins, which are prepared to accuse me before the tribunal of God; that on the right, the Devil, who is ever watching for his prey; and that on the left, the Worm, who is now [...] after my flesh. Go in peace, my [Page lxi] dearest brother: and never ask me again why I am sad at a feast."’

Gower, in the CONFESSIO AMANTIS, may perhaps have co­pied the circumstance of the morning trumpet from this apo­logue. His king is a king of Hungary.

It so befell, that on a dawe
There was ordeined by the lawe
A Trompe with a sterne breathe,
Which was cleped the Trompe of deathe:
And in the court where the kyng was,
A certaine man, this trompe of brasse
Hath in kepyng, and therof serveth,
That when a lorde his deathe deserveth,
He shall this dredfull trompe blowe
To fore his gate, to make it knowe,
Howe that the jugement is yeve
Of deathe, whiche shall not be foryeve.
The kyng whan it was night anone,
This man assent, and bad him gone,
To trompen at his brothers gate;
And he, whiche mote done algate,
Goth foorth, and doth the kyng's heste.
This lorde whiche herde of this tempest
That he tofore his gate blewe,
Tho wist he by the lawe, and knewe
That he was schurly deade, &c g.

But Gower has connected with this circumstance a different story, and of an inferior cast, both in point of moral and ima­gination. The truth is, Gower seems to have altogether fol­lowed this story as it appeared in the SPECULUM HISTORIALE of Vincent of Beauvais h, who took it from Damascenus's ro­mance of BARLAAM AND JOSAPHAT i. Part of it is thus [Page lxii] told in Caxton's translation of that legend k. ‘"And the kynge hadde suche a custome, that whan one sholde be delyvered to deth, the kynge sholde sende hys cryar wyth hys trompe that was ordeyned therto. And on the euen he sente the cryar wyth the trompe tofore hys brother's gate, and made to soune the trompe. And whan the kynges brother herde this, he was in despayr of sauynge of his lyf, and coude not slepe of alle the nyght, and made his testament. And on the morne erly, he cladde hym in blacke: and came with wepyng with hys wyf and chyldren to the kynges paleys. And the kynge made hym to com tofore hym, and sayd to hym, a fooll that thou art, that thou hast herde the messager of thy bro­ther, to whom thou knowest well thou hast not trespaced and doubtest so mooche, howe oughte not I then ne doubte the messageres of our lorde, agaynste whom I haue soo ofte synned, which signef [...]ed unto me more clerely the deth then the trompe?"’

CHAP. cxlv. The philosopher Socrates shews the cause of the insalubrity of a passage between two mountains in Armenia, by means of a polished mirrour of steel. Albertus is cited; an abbot of Stade, and the author of a Chronicle from Adam to 1256.

CHAP. cxlvi. Saint Austin's CITY OF GOD is quoted for an answer of Diomedes the pirate to king Alexander.

CHAP. cxlviii. Aulius Gellius is cited.

Aulus Gellius is here quoted, for the story of Arion l, throw­ing himself into the sea, and carried on the back of a dolphin to king Periander at Corinth m. Gellius relates this story from Herodotus, in whom it is now extant n.

CHAP. cliii. The history of Apollonius of Tyre.

This story, the longest in the book before us, and the groundwork [Page lxiii] of a favorite old romance, is known to have existed before the year 1190.

In the Prologue to the English romance on this subject, called KYNGE APOLYNE OF THYRE, and printed by Wynkyn de Worde in 1510, we are told. ‘"My worshypfull mayster Wyn­kyn de Worde, havynge a lytell boke of an auncyent hystory of a kynge somtyme reygnyne in the countree of Thyre called Appolyn, concernynge his malfortunes and peryllous adventures right espouventables, bryefly compyled and pyteous for to here; the which boke, I Robert Coplandeo have me applyed for to translate out of the Frensshe language into our maternal Englysshe tongue, at the exhortacyon of my for­sayd mayster, accordynge dyrectly to myn auctor: gladly fol­lowynge the trace of my mayster Caxton, begynnynge with small storyes and pamf [...]etes and so to other."’ The English romance, or the French, which is the same thing, exactly cor­responds in many passages with the text of the GESTA. I will instance in the following one only, in which the complica­tion of the fable commences. King Appolyn dines in disguise in the hall of king Antiochus.—‘"Came in the kynges daugh­ter, accompanyed with many ladyes and damoyselles, whose splendente beaute were too long to endyte, for her rosacyate coloure was medled with grete favour. She dranke unto hir fader, and to all the lordes, and to all them that had ben at the play of the Shelde p. And as she behelde here and there, she espyed kynge Appolyn, and then she sayd unto her fader, Syr, what is he that sytteth so hye as by you, it semeth by hym that he is angry or sorrowfull? The kynge sayd, I never sawe so nimble and pleasaunt a player at the shelde, and therfore [Page lxiv] have I made hym to come and soupe with my knyghtes. And yf ye wyll knowe what he is, demaunde hym; for per­adventure he wyll tell you sooner than me. Methynke that he is departed from some good place, and I thinke in my mynde that somethynge is befallen hym for which he is sorry. This sayd, the noble dameysell wente unto Appolyn and said, "Fayre Syr, graunt me a boone. And he graunted her with goode herte. And she sayd unto hym, albeyt that your vysage be tryst and hevy, your behavour sheweth noblesse and facundyte, and therefore I pray you to tell me of your affayre and estate. Appolyn answered, Yf ye demaunde of my rychesses, I have lost them in the sea. The damoysell sayd, I pray you that you tell me of your adventures q."’ But in the GESTA, the princess at entering the royal hall kisses all the knights and lords present, except the stranger r. Vossius says, that about the year 1520, one Alamanus Rinucinus a Florentine, translated into Latin this fabulous history; and that the translation was corrected by Beroaldus. Vossius certainly cannot mean, that he translated it from the Greek original s.

CHAP. cliv. A story from Gervase of Tilbury, an English­man, who wrote about the year 1200, concerning a miraculous statue of Christ in the city of Edessa.

CHAP. clv. The adventures of an English knight named Albert in a subterraneous passage, within the bishoprick of Ely.

This story is said to have been told in the winter after sup­per, in a castle, cum familia divitis ad focum, ut Potentibus moris est, RECENSENDIS ANTIQUIS GESTIS operam daret, when the fa­mily of a rich man, as is the custom with the Great, was sitting round the fire, and telling ANTIENT GESTS. Here is a traite of the private life of our ancestors, who wanted the diver­sions and engagements of modern times to relieve a tedious even­ing. Hence we learn, that when a company was assembled, if a [Page lxv] jugler or a minstrel were not present, it was their custom to en­tertain themselves by relating or hearing a series of adventures. Thus the general plan of the CANTERBURY TALES, which at first sight seems to be merely an ingenious invention of the poet to serve a particular occasion, is in great measure founded on a fashion of antient life: and Chaucer, in supposing each of the pilgrims to tell a tale as they are travelling to Becket's shrine, only makes them adopt a mode of amusement which was com­mon to the conversations of his age. I do not deny, that Chaucer has shewn his address in the use and application of this practice.

So habitual was this amusement in the dark ages, that the graver sort thought it unsafe for ecclesiastics, if the subjects ad­mitted any degree of levity. The following curious injunction was deemed necessary, in a code of statutes assigned to a college at Oxford in the year 1292. I give it in English. ‘"CH. xx.—The fellows shall all live honestly, as becomes Clerks.—They shall not rehearse, sing, nor willingly hear, BALLADS or TALES of LOVERS, which tend to lasciviousness and idle­ness t."’ Yet the libraries of our monasteries, as I have before observed, were filled with romances. In that of Croyland-abbey we find even archbishop Turpin's romance, placed on the same shelf with Robert Tumbeley on the Canticles, Roger Dymock against Wickliffe, and Thomas Waleys on the Psalter. But their apology must be, that they thought this a true history: at least that an archbishop could write nothing but truth. Not to men­tion that the general subject of those books were the triumphs of christianity over paganism u.

CHAP. clvi. Ovid, in his TROJAN WAR, is cited for the story of Achilles disguised in female apparel.

Gower has this history more at large in the CONFESSIO AMANTIS: but he refers to a Cronike, which seems to be the BOKE OF TROIE, mentioned at the end of the chapter w.

[Page lxvi] CHAP. clvii. The porter of a gate at Rome, who taxes all deformed persons entering the city. This tale is in Alphonsus. And in the CENTO NOVELLE ANTICHE x.

CHAP. clviii. The discovery of the gigantic body of Pallas, son of Evander, at Rome, which exceeded in height the wa [...]s of the city, was uncorrupted, and accompanied with a burning lamp, two thousand two hundred and forty years after the destruction of Troy. His wound was fresh, which was four feet and a half in length.

It is curious to observe, the romantic exaggerations of the classical story.

CHAP. clix. Josephus, in his book de Causis rerum naturalium, is quoted, for Noah's discovery of wine.

I know not any book of Josephus on this subject. The first editor of the Latin Josephus was Ludovicus Cendrata of Verona, who was ignorant that he was publishing a modern translation. In the Dedication he complains, that the manuscript was brought to him from Bononia so ill-written, that it was often impossible even to guess at Josep [...]us's words. And in another place he says, Josephus first wrote the ANTIQUITATES in He­brew, and that he afterwards translated them from Hebrew into Greek, and from Greek into Latin y.

The substance of this chapter is founded on a Rabbinical tra­dition, related by Fabricius z. When Noah planted the vine, Satan attended, and sacrificed a sheep, a lion, an ape, and a sow. These animals were to symbolise the gradations of ebriety. When a man begins to drink, he is meek and ignorant as the lamb, then becomes bold as the lion, his courage is soon trans­formed into the foolishness of the ape, and at last he wallows in the mire like the sow. Chaucer hence says in the MANCIPLES PROLOGUE, as the passage is justly corrected by Mr. Tyrwhitt,

[Page lxvii]
I trowe that ye have dronken wine of ape,
And that is when men plaien at a strawe a.

In the old KALENDRIER DES BERGERS, as Mr. Tyrwhitt has remarked, Vin de singe, vin de mouton, vin de lyon, and vin de porceau, are mentioned, in their respective operations on the four temperaments of the human body.

CHAP. clxi. Of a hill in a forest of England, where if a hunter sate after the chace, he was refreshed by a miraculous person of a mild aspect, bearing a capacious horn, adorned with gems and gold b, and filled with the most delicious liquor. This person instantly disappeared after administering the draught; which was of so wonderful a nature, as to dispel the most op­pressive lassitude, and to make the body more vigorous than before. At length, a hunter having drank of this horn, un­gratefully refused to return it to the friendly apparition; and his master, the lord of the forest, lest he should appear to countenance so atrocious a theft, gave it to king Henry the elder c.

This story, which seems imperfect, I suppose, is from Ger­vase of Tilbury.

CHAP. clxii. The same author is cited for an account of a hill in Castile, on which was a palace of demons.

Whenever our compiler quotes Gervase of Tilbury, the re­ference is to his OTIA IMPERIALIA: which is addressed to the emperor Otho the fourth, and contains his Commentarius de regnis Imperatorum Romanorum, his Mundi Descriptio, and his Tractatus de Mirabilibus Mundi. All these four have been im­properly supposed to be separate works.

CHAP. clxiii. King Alexander's son Celestinus.

CHAP. clxvii. The archer and the nightingale.

This fable is told in the Greek legend of BARLAAM AND [Page lxviii] JOSAPHAT, written by Johannes Damascenus d. And in Caxton's GOLDEN LEGENDE e. It is also found in the CLERICALIS DISCIPLINA of Alphonsus.

CHAP. clxviii. Barlaam is cited for the story of a man, who, flying from a unicorn, and falling into a deep and noisom pit, hung on the boughs of a lofty tree which grew from the bottom. On looking downward, he saw a huge dragon twisted round the trunk, and gaping to devour him. He also observed two mice gnawing at the roots of the tree, which began to totter. Four white vipers impregnated the air of the pit with their poisonous breath. Looking about him, he discovered a stream of hony distilling from one of the branches of the tree, which he began eagerly to devour, without regarding his dan­gerous situation. The tree soon fell: he found himself strug­gling in a loathsome quagmire, and was instantly swallowed by the dragon.

This is another of Barlaam's apologues in Damascenus's ro­mance of BARLAAM AND JOSAPHAT: and which has been adopted into the Lives of the Saints by Surius and others f. A MORALISATION is subjoined, exactly agreeing with that in the GESTA g.

CHAP. clxix. Trogus Pompeius is cited, for the wise legisla­tion of Ligurius, a noble knight.

Our compiler here means Justin's abridgement of Trogus; which, to the irreparable injury of literature, soon destroyed its original. An early epitome of Livy would have been attended with the same unhappy consequences.

CHAP. clxx. The dice player and saint Bernard.

This is from saint Bernard's legend h.

CHAP. clxxi. The two knights of Egypt and Baldach.

This is the story of Boccace's popular novel of TITO AND [Page lxix] GISIPPO, and of Lydgate's T [...]le of two Marchants of Egypt and of Baldad, a manuscript poem in the British Museum, and lately in the library of doctor Askew i. Peter Alphonsus is quoted for this story; and it makes the second Fable of his CLERICALIS DISCIPLINA.

I take the liberty of introducing a small digression here, which refers to two pieces of the poet last-mentioned, never enume­rated among his works. In the year 1483, Caxton printed at Westminster, ‘"The PYLGREMAGE [...] OF THE SOWLE translated oute of Frensshe into Englisshe. Full of devout maters touching the sowle, and many questyons assoyled to cause a man to lyve the better, &c. Emprinted at Westminster by William Caxton the first yere of kynge Edward V. 1483."’ The French book, which is a vision, and has some degree of imagination, is probably the PELERIN DE L'AME, of Guillaume prior of Chaulis k. This translation was made from the French, with additions, in the year 1413. For in the colophon are these words. ‘"Here endeth the dreme of the PYLGREMAGE OF THE SOWLE translated out of Frensche into Englisshe, with somwhat of Addicions, the yere of our lorde M. CCCC. and thyrteen, and endethe in the vigyle of seint Bartholomew."’ The translator of this book, at least the author of the Addicions, which altoge­ther consist of poetry in seven-lined stanzas, I believe to be Lydgate. Not to insist on the correspondence of time and style, I observe, that the thirty-fourth chapter of Lydgate's metrical LIFE OF THE VIRGIN MARY is literally repeated in the thirty­fourth chapter of this Translation. This chapter is a digression of five or six stanzas in praise of Chaucer; in which the writer feelingly laments the recent death of his maister Chaucer, poete of Britaine, who used to amende and correcte the wronge traces of my rude penne. No writer besides, in Lydgate's own life-time, can be supposed, with any sort of grace or propriety, to have men­tioned those personal assistances of Chaucer, in Lydgate's own [Page lxx] words. And if we suppose that the Translation, or its Addicions, were written by Lydgate before he wrote his LIFE OF THE VIRGIN, the proof will be the same k.

Another piece probably written by Lydgate, yet never sup­posed or acknowledged to be of his composition, is a poem in the octave stanza, containing thirty-seven leaves in folio, and entitled LABEROUS AND MARVEYLOUS WORKE OF SAPIENCE. After a long debate between MERCY and TRUTH, and JUSTICE and PEACE, all the products of nature and of human know­ledge are described, as they stand arranged in the palace and do­minions of WISDOM. It is generally allowed to have been printed by Caxton: it has not the name of the printer, nor any date. Had it been written by Caxton, as I once hastily suspected, or by any of his cotemporaries, the name of Lydgate would have appeared in conjunction with those of Gower and Chaucer, who are highly celebrated in the Prologue as erthely gods expert in poesie: for these three writers were constantly joined in pane­gyric, at least for a century, by their successors, as the distin­guished triumvirate of English poetry. In the same Prologue, the author says he was commanded to write this poem by the king. No poet cotemporary with Caxton was of consequence enough to receive such a command: and we know that Lydgate compiled many of his works by the direction, or under the pa­tronage, of king Henry the fifth. Lydgate was born in Suffolk: and our author from the circumstance of having lived in a part of England not of a very polished dialect, apologises for the rude­ness of his language, so that he cannot delycately endyte. It is much in the style and manner of Lydgate: and I believe it to have been one of his early performances l.

CHAP. clxxii. A king of England has two knights, named [Page lxxi] Guido and Tirius. Guido having achieved many splendid ex­ploits for the love of a beautiful lady, at length married her. Three days after his marriage he saw a vision, which summoned him to engage in the holy war. At parting she gave him a ring; saying, ‘"as often as you look on this ring, remember me."’ Soon after his departure she had a son. After various adventures, in which his friend Tirius has a share, at the end of seven years he returned to England in the habit of a pilgrim. Coming to his castle, he saw at the gate his lady sitting, and distributing alms to a croud of poor people; ordering them all to pray for the return of her lord Guido from the holy land. She was on that day accompanied by her son a little boy, very beautiful, and richly apparelled; and who hearing his mother, as she was distributing her alms, perpetually recommending Guido to their prayers, asked, if that was his father? Among others, she gave alms to her husband Guido, not knowing him in the pilgrim's disguise. Guido, seeing the little boy, took him in his arms, and kissed him: saying, ‘"O my sweet son, may God give you grace to please him!"’ For this boldness he was reproved by the attendants. But the lady, finding him destitute and a stranger, assigned him a cottage in a neighbouring forest. Soon afterwards falling sick, he said to his servant, ‘"Carry this ring to your lady, and tell her, if she desires ever to see me again, to come hither without delay."’ The servant conveyed the ring; but before she arrived, he was dead. She threw her­self on his body, and exclaimed with tears, ‘"Where are now my alms which I daily gave for my lord? I saw you receive those alms, but I knew you not.—You beheld, embraced, and kissed your own son, but did not discover yourself to him nor to me. What have I done, that I shall see you no more?"’ She then interred him magnificently.

The reader perceives this is the story of Guido, or Guy, earl of Warwick; and probably this is the early outline of the life and death of that renowned champion.

Many romances were at first little more than legends of devotion, [Page lxxii] containing the pilgrimage of an old warrior. At length, as chivalry came more into vogue, and the stores of invention were increased, the youthful and active part of the pilgrim's life was also written, and a long series of imaginary martial adventures was added, in which his religious was eclipsed by his heroic character, and the penitent was lost in the knight-errant. That which was the principal subject of the short and simple legend, became only the remote catastrophe of the voluminous romance. And hence by degrees it was almost an established rule of every romance, for the knight to end his days in a hermitage. Cer­vantes has ridiculed this circumstance with great pleasantry, where Don Quixote holds a grave debate with Sancho, whether he shall turn saint or archbishop.

So reciprocal, or rather so convertible, was the pious and the military character, that even some of the apostles had their ro­mance. In the ninth century, the chivalrous and fabling spirit of the Spaniards transformed saint James into a knight. They pretended that he appeared and fought with irresistible fury, completely armed, and mounted on a stately white horse, in most of their engagements with the Moors; and [...]cause, by his superior prowess in these bloody conflicts, he was supposed to have freed the Spaniards from paying the annual tribute of a hundred christian virgins to their infidel enemies, they repre­sented him as a professed and powerful champion of distressed damsels. This apotheosis of chivalry in the person of their own apostle, must have ever afterwards contributed to exaggerate the characteristical romantic heroism of the Spaniards, by which it was occasioned; and to propagate through succeeding ages, a stronger veneration for that species of military enthusiasm, to which they were naturally devoted. It is certain, that in con­sequence of these illustrious achievements in the Moorish wars, saint James was constituted patron of Spain; and became the founder of one of the most magnificent shrines, and of the most opulent order of knighthood, now existing in christendom. [Page lxxiii] The Legend of this invincible apostle is inserted in the Mosa­rabic liturgy.

CHAP. clxxiii. A king goes to a fair, carrying in his train, a master with one of his scholars, who expose six bundles, con­taining a system of ethics, to sale s.

Among the revenues accruing to the crown of England from the Fair of saint Botolph at Boston in Lincolnshire, within the HONOUR of RICHMOND, mention is made of the royal pavi­lion, or booth, which stood in the fair, about the year 1280. This fair was regularly frequented by merchants from the most capital trading towns of Normandy, Germany, Flanders, and other countries. ‘"Ibidem [in feria] sunt quaedam domus quae dicuntur BOTHAE REGIAE, quae valent per annum xxviii, l. xiii, s. iiii, d. Ibidem sunt quaedam domus quas MERCA­TORES DE YPRE tenent, quae valent per annum, xx, l. Et quaedam domus quas MERCATORES DE CADOMOt ET OSTOGANIOu tenent, xi, l. Et quaedam domus quas MER­CATORES DE ANACOw tenent, xiii, l. vi, s. viii, d. Et quae­dam domus quas MERCATORES DE COLONIA tenent, xxv, l. x, s x."’ The high rent of these lodges, is a proof that they were considerable edifices in point of size and accommodation.

CHAP. clxxiv. The fable of a serpent cherished in a man's bosom y.

About the year 1470, a collection of Latin fables, in six books, distinguished by the name of Esop, was published in Germany. The three first books consist of the sixty anonymous elegiac fables, printed in Nevelet's collection, under the title of Anonymi Fabulae Aesopicae, and translated in 1503, by Wynkyn de Worde, with a few variations: under each is a fable in prose on the same subject from ROMULUS, or the old prose LATIN [Page lxxiv] ESOP, which was probably fabricated in the twelfth century. The fourth book has the remaining fables of Romulus in prose only. The fifth, containing one or two fables only which were never called Esop's, is taken from Alphonsus, the GESTA RO­MANORUM, the CALILA U DAMNAH, and other obscure sources. The sixth and last book has seventeen fables ex tran­slatione Rinucii, that is Rinucius, who translated Planudes's life of Esop, and sixty-nine of his fables, from Greek into Latin, in the fifteenth century. This collection soon afterwards was cir­culated in a French version, which Caxton translated into English.

In an antient general Chronicle, printed at Lubec in 1475, and entitled RUDIMENTUM NOVITIORUM y, a short life of Esop is introduced, together with twenty-nine of his fables. The writer says, ‘"Esopus adelphus claruit tempore Cyri regis Per­sarum.—Vir ingeniosus et prudens, qui confinxit fabulas el [...] ­gantes. Quas Romulus postmodum de greco transtulit in la­tinum, et filio suo Tibertino direxit, &c z."’ The whole of this passage about Esop is transcribed from Vincent of Beauvais a.

CHAP. clxxvii. The feast of king Ahasuerus and Esther.

I have mentioned a metrical romance on this subject b. And I have before observed, that Thomas of Elmham, a chronicler, calls the coronation-feast of king Henry the sixth, a second feast of Ahasuerus c. Hence also Chaucer's allusion at the marriage of January and May, while they are at the solemnity of the wedding-dinner, which is very splendid.

Quene Esther loked ner with soch an eye
On Assuere, so meke a loke hath she d.

Froissart, an historian, who shares the merit with Philip de Comines of describing every thing, gives this idea of the solemnity [Page lxxv] of a dinner of Christmas-day, at which he was present, in the hall of the castle of Gaston earl of Foiz at Ortez in Bevern, under the year 1388. At the upper or first table, he says, [...]ate four bishops, then the earl, three viscounts, and an English knight belonging to the duke of Lancaster. At another table, five abbots, and two knights of Arragon. At another, many barons and knights of Gascony and Bigorre. At another, a great number of knights of Bevern. Four knights were the chief stewards of the hall, and the two bastard brothers of the earl served at the high table. ‘"The erles two sonnes, sir Yvan of Leschell was sewer, and sir Gracyen bare his cuppe m. And there were many mynstrelles, as well of his owne as of straungers, and eche of them dyde their devoyre in their fa­culties. The same day the erle of Foiz gave to harauldes and mynstrelles, the somme of fyve hundred frankes: and gave to the duke of Touraynes mynstrelles, gownes of clothe [Page lxxvi] of golde furred with ermyns, valued at two hundred frankes. This dinner endured four houres n."’ Froissart, who was en­tertained in this castle for twelve weeks, thus describes the earl's ordinary mode of supping. ‘"In this estate the erle of Foiz lyved. And at mydnyght whan he came out of his chambre into the halle to supper, he had ever before hym twelve torches brennyng, borne by twelve varlettes [valets] standyng before his table all supper o: they gave a grete light, and the hall ever full of knightes and squyers; and many other tables dressed to suppe who wolde. Ther was none shulde speke to hym at his table, but if he were called. His meate was lightlye wylde foule.—He had great plesure in armony of instrumentes, he could do it right well hym­selfe: he wolde have songes songe before hym. He wolde gladlye se conseytes [conceits] and fantasies at his table. And when he had sene it, then he wolde send it to the other tables.—There was sene in his hall, chambre, and court, knyghtes and squyers of honour goyng up and downe, and talkyng of armes and of amours, &c p."’ After supper, Frois­sart was admitted to an audience with this magnificent earl; and used to read to him a book of sonnets, rondeaus, and virelays, written by a gentyll duke of Luxemburgh q.

[Page lxxvii] In this age of curiosity, distinguished for its love of historical anecdotes and the investigation of antient manners, it is extraor­dinary that a new translation should not be made of Froissart from a collated and corrected original of the French. Froissart is commonly ranked with romances: but it ought to be remem­bered, that he is the historian of a romantic age, when those manners which form the fantastic books of chivalry were actually practised. As he received his multifarious intelligence from such a variety of vouchers, and of different nations, and almost al­ways collected his knowledge of events from report, rather than from written or recorded evidence, his notices of persons and places are frequently confused and unexact. Many of these petty incorrectnesses are not, however, to be imputed to Froissart: and it may seem surprising, that there are not more inaccuracies of this kind in a voluminous chronicle, treating of the affairs of England, and abounding in English appellations, composed by a French­man, and printed in France. Whoever will take the pains to compare this author with the coeval records in Rymer, will find numerous instances of his truth and integrity, in relating the more public and important transactions of his own times. Why he should not have been honoured with a modern edition at the Louvre, it is easy to conceive: the French have a national prejudice against a writer, who has been so much more com­plaisant to England, than to their own country. Upon the whole, if Froissart should be neglected by the historical reader for his want of precision and authenticity, he will at least be valued by the philosopher for his striking pictures of life, drawn without reserve or affectation from real nature with a faithful and free pencil, and by one who had the best opportunities of obser­vation, who was welcome alike to the feudal castle or the royal palace, and who mingled in the bustle and business of the world, at [...]hat very curious period of society, when manners are very far refined, and yet retain a considerable tincture of bar­barism. But I cannot better express my sentiments on this sub­ject, than in the words of Montaigne. ‘"J'ayme les Historien [...] [Page lxxviii] ou fort simples ou excellens. Les simples qui n'ont point de quoy y mesler quelque chose du leur, et qui n'y apportent que le soin et la diligence de ramasser tout ce qui vient a leur notice, et d'enregistrer a la bonne foy toutes choses sans chois et sans triage, nous laissent le jugement entier pour la conois­sance de la verité. Tel est entre autres pour example le bon Froissard, qui a marchè en son enterprise d'une si franche naïfueté, qu'ayant fait une faute il ne craint aucunement de la reconnoistre et corriger en l'endroit, ou il en a esté adverty: et qui nous represente la diversité mesme des bruits qui cou­roient, et les differens rapports qu'on luy faisot. C'est la matiere de l'Histoire nuï et informe; chacun en peut faire son proffit autant qu'il a d'entendement r."’

CHAP. clxxviii. A king is desirous to know how to rule himself and his kingdom. One of his wise men presents an alle­gorical picture on the wall; from which, after much study, he acquires the desired instruction.

In the original eastern apologue, perhaps this was a piece of tapestry. From the cultivation of the textorial arts among the orientals, came Darius's wonderful cloth abovementioned e; and the idea of the robe richly embroidered and embossed with stories of romance and other imageries, in the unprinted ro­mance of EMARE, which forms of one the finest descriptions of the kind that I have seen in Gothic poetry, and which I shall therefore not scruple to give at large.

Soon after, yn a whyle,
The ryche kynge of Cesyle f
To the Emperour gan wende g;
A ryche present wyth hym he browght,
A clothe that was wordylyeh wroght,
He welcomed hym as the hende i.
[Page lxxix] Syr Tergaunte, that nobyll knyȝt,
He presented the emperour ryȝt,
And sette hym on hys kne k,
Wyth that cloth rychyly dyght;
Full of stones thar hyt was pyght,
As thykke as hyt myght be:
Off topaze and of rubyes,
And other stones of myche prys,
That semely wer to se;
Of crapoutes and nakette,
As thykhe as they sette,
For sothe as y say the l.
The cloth was dysplayed sone:
The emperour loked thar upone
And myght hytm not se;
For glysterynge of the ryche stone,
Redy syght had he non,
And sayde, how may this be?
The emperour sayde on hygh,
Sertes n, thys is a fayry o,
Or ellys a vanyte.
The kyng of Cysyle answered than,
So ryche a jewellp ys ther non
In all crystyante.
The amerayles dowȝter of hethenes q
Made thys cloth, withouten lees r,
[Page lxxx] And wroȝte hyt all wyth pryde;
And portreyed hyt wyth grete honour,
With ryche golde and asour s,
And stones on ylkat syde.
And as the story telles yn honde,
The stones that on this cloth stonde
Sowȝtu they wer full wyde:
Seven wynter hyt was yn makynge,
Or hyt was browght to endynge,
In hert ys not to hyde.
In that on korner made was
YDOYNE and AMADAS w.
Wyth love that was so trewe;
For they loveden hemx wyth honour,
Portreyed they wer wyth trewe love flour
Of stones bryght of hewe.
Wyth carbunkull, and safere y,
Kalsydonys, and onyx so clere,
Sette in golde newe;
Deamondes and rubyes,
And othyr stones of mychyll pryse,
And menstrellys wyth her gle z.
In that othyr korner was dyght
TRYSTRAM and ISOWDE so bryȝt a,
That semely wer to se;
And for they loved hem ryght,
As full of stones ar they dyght,
As thykke as they may be.—
[Page lxxxi] In the thryddeb korner wyth grete honour
Was FLORYS and BLAUNCHEFLOUR c [...]
As love was hem betwene,
For they loved wyth honour,
Portrayed they wer with trewe loveflour,
With stones bryȝht and shene.—
In the fourth korner was oon
Of Babylone the sowdans sonn,
The amerayles dowȝter hym by:
For hys sake the cloth was wrowght,
She loved hym in hert and thowght,
As testymoyneth thys storye.
The fayr mayden her byforn,
Was portrayed an unikorn,
Wyth hys horn so hye;
Flowres and bryddes on ylka syde,
Wyth stones that wer sowght wyde,
Stuffed wyth ymagerye.
When the cloth to ende was wrowght,
To the Sowdan soned hyt was browȝt,
That semely was of syȝte;
My fadyr was a nobyll man,
Of the Sowdan he hyt wan
Wyth maystrye and wyth myȝte e.

Chaucer says in the ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE, that RI­CHESSE wore a robe of purple, which,

—Ful wele
With orfraies laid was everie dele,
[Page lxxxii] And purtraied in the ribaninges
Of DUKIS STORIES and of KINGES f.

And, in the original,

Portraictes y furent d'orfroys
Hystoryes d'empereurs et roys g.

CHAP. clxxix. Cesarius, saint Basil, the Gospel, Boethius, and Ovid, are quoted to shew the detestable guilt of gluttony and ebriety.

Cesarius, I suppose, is a Cistercian monk of the thirteenth century; who, beside voluminous Lives, Chronicles, and Ho­milies, wrote twelve Books on the Miracles, Visions, and Ex­amples, of his own age. But there is another and an older monkish writer of the same name. In the British Museum, there is a narrative taken from Cesarius, in old northern English, of a lady deceived by the fiends, or the devil, through the pride of rich clothing h.

CHAP. clxxx. Paul, the historian of the Longobards, is cited, for the fidelity of the knight Onulphus.

CHAP. clxxxi. The sagacity of a lion.

This is the last chapter in the edition of 1488.

Manuscript copies of the GESTA ROMANORUM are very numerous i. A proof of the popularity of the work. There are two in the British Museum; which, I think, contain, each one hundred and two chapters k. But although the printed copies have one hundred and eighty-one stories or chapters, there are many in the manuscripts which do not appear in the editions. The story of the CASKETTS, one of the principal incidents in Shakespeare's MERCHANT OF VENICE, is in one of the manuscripts of the Museum l. This story, however, is in [Page lxxxiii] an old English translation printed by Wynkyn de Worde, with­out date; from which, or more probably from another edition printed in 1577, and entitled A RECORD OF ANCIENT HYS­TORYES in Latin GESTA ROMANORUM, corrected and bettered, Shakespeare borrowed it. The story of the BOND in the same play, which Shakespeare perhaps took from a translation of the PECORONE of Ser Florentino Giovanni m, makes the forty­eighth chapter of the last-mentioned manuscript n. Giovanni flourished about the year 1378 o. The tale of Gower's FLO­RENT p, which resembles Chaucer's WIFE OF BATH, occurs in some of the manuscripts of this work. The same may be said of a tale by Occleve, never printed; concerning the chaste consort of the emperor Gerelaus, who is abused by his steward, in his absence. This is the first stanza. A larger specimen shall appear in its place.

In Roman Actis writen is thus,
Somtime an emperour in the citee
Of Rome regned, clept Gerelaus,
Wich his noble astate and his dignite
Governed wisely, and weddid had he
The douȝtir of the kyng of Vngrye,
A faire lady to every mannes ye.

At the end is the MORALISATION in prose q.

[Page lxxxiv] I could point out other stories, beside those I have mentioned, for which Gower, Lydgate, Occleve, and the author of the DE­CAMERON, and of the CENTO NOVELLE ANTICHE, have been indebted to this admired repository r. Chaucer, as I have before remarked, has taken one of his Canterbury tales from his col­lection; and it has been supposed that he alludes to it in the following couplet,

And ROMAIN GESTIS makin remembrance
Of many a veray trewe wife also f.

The plot also of the knight against Constance, who having killed Hermegild, puts the bloody knife into the hand of Con­stance while asleep, and her adventure with the steward, in the MAN OF LAWES TALE, are also taken from that manuscript chapter of this work, which I have just mentioned to have been versified by Occleve. The former of these incidents is thus treated by Occleve.

She with this ȝonge childe in the chambre lay
Every niȝt where lay the earle and the countesse s,
Bitween whose beddis brente a lampe alway.
And he espied, by the lampes liȝt,
The bedde where that lay this emprice
With erlis douȝtur t, and as blyve riȝt,
This feendly man his purpose and malice
Thouȝteu for to fulfille and accomplice;
And so he dide, a longe knife out he drouȝe w,
And ther with alle the maiden childe he slouȝe x.
Hir throte with the knyfe on two he kutte
And as this emprice lay sleeping;
Into her honde this bloody knyfe he putte,
Ffor men shoulde have noon othir deemyng y
But she had gilty ben of this murdring:
And whanne that he had wrouȝte this cursidnesse,
Anoone oute of the chambre he gan hem dresse z.
The countess after hir slepe awakid
And to the emperesse bedde gan caste hir look
And sya the bloody knyfe in hir hande nakid,
And, for the feare she tremblid and quook.—

She awakens the earl, who awakens the empress.

And hir awook, and thus to hir he cried,
"Woman, what is that, that in thin hand I see?
"What hast thou doon, woman, for him that diede [...]
"What wickid spirit hath travaylid the?"
And as sone as that adawed was she,
The knyfe fel oute of hir hand in the bedde,
And she bihilde the cloothis al forbledde,
[Page lxxxvi] And the childe dead, "Allas, she cried, allas,
"How may this be, god woot alle I note howe,
"I am not privy to hir hevy caas,
"The gilte is not myne, I the childe not slowe b."
To which spake the countesse, "What saist thou?
"Excuse the not, thou maist not saie nay,
"The knyfe all bloody in thin hand I say c."d

This story, but with some variation of circumstances, is told in the HISTORICAL MIRROUR of Vincent of Beauvais e.

But I hasten to point out the writer of the GESTA ROMA­NORUM, who has hitherto remained unknown to the most dili­gent enquirers in Gothic literature. He is Petrus Berchorius, or Pierre Bercheur, a native of Poitou, and who died Prior of the Benedictine convent of saint Eloi at Paris, in the year 1362.

For the knowledge of this very curious circumstance, I am obliged to Salomon Glassius, a celebrated theologist of Saxe­Gotha, in his PHILOLOGIA SACRA f, written about the year 1623 g. In his chapter DE ALLEGORIIS FABULARUM, he censures those writers who affect to interpret allegorically, not only texts of scripture, but also poetical fables and profane histo­ries, which they arbitrarily apply to the explication or confir­mation of the mysteries of christianity. He adds, ‘"Hoc in studio excelluit quidam Petrus Berchorius, Pictaviensis, ordinis divi Benedicti: qui, peculiari libro, GESTA ROMANORUM, necnon Legendas Patrum, aliasque aniles fabulas, allegorice ac mystice exposuit h."’ That is, ‘"In this art excelled one Peter Berchorius, a Benedictine; who, in a certain peculiar [Page lxxxvii] book, has expounded, mystically and allegorically, the Roman GESTS, legends of saints, and other idle tales i."’ He then quotes for an example, the whole one hundred and seventieth chapter of the GESTA ROMANORUM, containing the story of saint Bernard and the Dice-player, together with its moralisation.

Berchorius was one of the most learned divines of his country, and a voluminous writer. His three grand printed works are, I. REDUCTORIUM MORALE super totam Bibliam, in twenty­four books. II. REPERTORIUM [or Reductorium] MORALE, in fourteen books k. III. DICTIONARIUM MORALE. Who­ever shall have the patience or the curiosity to turn over a few pages of this immense treasure of multifarious erudition, will soon see this assertion of Glassius abundantly verified; and will be convinced beyond a doubt, from a general coincidence of plan, manner, method, and execution, that the author of these volumes, and of the GESTA ROMANORUM, must be one and the same. The REDUCTORIUM SUPER BIBLIAMl con­tains all the stories and incidents in the Bible, reduced into alle­gories m. The REPERTORIUM MORALE is a dictionary of things, persons, and places; all which are supposed to be mystical, and which are therefore explained in their moral or practical sense. The DICTIONARIUM MORALE is in two parts, and seems principally designed to be a moral repertory for students in theology.

[Page lxxxviii] The moralisation, or moral explanation, which is added to every ar [...]cle, is commonly prefaced, as in the GESTA, with the introductory address of CARISSIMI. In the colophon, the GESTA is called Ex gestis Romanorum RECOLLECTORIUM: a word much of a piece with his other titles of REPERTORIUM and REDUCTORIUM. Four of the stories occurring in the GESTA, The Discovery of the gigantic body of Pallas n, The subter­raneous golden palace o, The adventures of the English knight in the bishoprick of Ely p, and The miraculous horn q, are related in the fourteenth book of the REPERTORIUM MORALE. For the two last of these he quotes Gervase of Tilbury, as in his GESTA r. As a further proof of his allegorising genius I must add, that he moralised all the stories in Ovid's Metamorphosis, in a work entitled, Commentarius MORALIS, five ALLEGORIAE in Libros quindecim Ovidii Metamorphoseon f, and now remaining in manu­script in the library of the monastery of saint Germains s. He seems to have been strongly impressed with whatever related to the Roman affairs, and to have thought their history more in­teresting than that of any other people. This appears from the following passage, which I translate from the article ROMA, in his DICTIONARIUM MORALE, and which will also contri­bute to throw some other lights on this subject. ‘"How many remarkable facts might be here collected concerning the vir­tues and vices of the Romans, did my design permit me to drop Moralities, and to enter upon an historical detail! For [Page lxxxix] that most excellent historian Livy, unequalled for the dignity, brevity, and difficulty of his style, (whose eloquence is so highly extolled by saint Jerome, and whom I, however unworthy, have translated from Latin into French with great labour t, at the request of John the most famous king of France,) records so many wonderful things of the prudence, fortitude, fidelity, and friendship, of the Roman people; as also of their quarrels, envy, pride, avarice, and other vices, which are indeed allied to virtues, and are such, to say the truth, as I never remember to have heard of in any nation besides. But because I do not mean to treat of historical affairs in the present work, the matter of which is entirely moral, I refer the historical reader to Livy himself, to Trogus Pom­peius, Justin, Florus, and Orosius, who have all written his­tories of Rome; as also to Innocent, who in his book on the Miseries of human nature u, speaks largely of the vices of the Romans w."’ In the mean time we must remember, that at this particular period, the Roman history had become the grand object of the public taste in France. The king himself, as we have just seen, recommended a translation of Livy. French translations also of Sallust, Cesar, and Lucan, were now circu­lated. A Latin historical compilation called ROMULEON was now just published by a gentleman of France, which was soon afterwards translated into French. A collection of the GESTA ROMANORUM was therefore a popular subject, at least it pro­duced a popular title, and was dictated by the fashion of the times.

I have here mentioned all Berchorius's works, except his Comment on a Prosody called Doctrinale metricum, which was [Page xc] used as a school-book in France, till Despauterius's manual on that subject appeared x. Some biographers mention his TROPO­LOGIA, his COSMOGRAPHIA, and his BREVIARIUM. But the TROPOLOGIAy is nothing more than his REDUCTORIUM on the Bible; and probably the BREVLARIUM is the same z. The COSMOGRAPHIA seems to be the fourteenth book of his RE­PERTORIUM MORALE; which treats of the wonders of various countries, and is chiefly taken from Solinus and Gervase of Til­bury a. He is said by the biographers to have written other smaller pieces, which they have not named or described. Among these perhaps is comprehended the GESTA: which we may conceive to have been thus undistinguished, either as having been neglected or proscribed by graver writers, or rather as having been probably disclaimed by its author, who saw it at length in the light of a juvenile performance, abounding in fantastic and unedifying narrations, which he judged unsuitable to his character, studies, and station b. Basilius Johannes Herol­dus, however, mentions Berchorius as the author of a CHRONI­CON, a word which may imply, though not with exact pro­priety, his GESTA ROMANORUM. It is in the Epistle dedica­tory of his edition of the Chronicles of Marianus Scotus, and Martinus Polonus, addressed to our queen Elisabeth; in which he promises to publish many Latin CHRONICA, that is, those of Godfrey of Viterbo, Hugo Floriacensis, Conrade Engelhus, Hermannus Edituus, Lanfranc, Ivo, Robert of Saint Victor, PETER BERCHORIUS, and of many others, qui de TEMPORI­BUS scripserunt, who have written of times c. Paulus Langius, [Page xci] who wrote about the year 1400, in his enumeration of Bercho­rius's writings, says nothing of this compilation d.

Had other authentic evidences been wanting, we are sure of the age in which Berchorius flourished, from the circumstance of his being employed to translate Livy by John king of France, who acceded to the throne in the year 1350, and died in the year 1364. That Berchorius died, and probably an old man, in the year 1362, we learn from his epitaph in the monastery of saint Eloy at Paris, which is recited by Sweertius, and on other accounts deserves a place here.

HIC JACET VENERABILIS MAGNAE PRO­FUNDAEQUE SCIENTIAE, ADMIRABILIS ET SUBTILIS ELOQUENTIAE, F. PETRUS BERCOTH e, PRIOR HUJUS PRIORATUS. QUI FUIT ORIUNDUS DE VILLA S. PETRI DE ITINEREf IN EPISCOPATU MAILLIZANCENSIg IN PICTAVIA. QUI TEMPORE SUO FECIT OPERA SUA SOLEMNIA, SCILICET DICTIONARIUM, REDUCTORIUM, BREVIATORIUM, DESCRIPTIONEM MUNDI h, TRANSLATIONEM CUJUSDAM LIBRI VETUTISSIMIi DE LATINO IN GALLICUM, AD PRAECEPTUM EXCEL­LENTISS. JOANNIS REGIS FRANCORUM. QUI OBIIT ANNO M. CCC. LXII k.

[Page xcii] Berchorius was constituted grammatical preceptor to the no­vices of the Benedictine Congregation, or monastery, at Clugni, in the year 1340 l. At which time he drew up his Notes on the Prosody, and his Commentary on Ovid, for the use of his scho­lars. About the same time, and with a view of rendering their exercises in Latinity more agreeable and easy by an enter­taining Latin story-book, yet resoluble into lessons of religion, he probably compiled the GESTA: perpetually addressing the application of every tale to his young audience, by the paternal and affectionate appellation of CARISSIMI m. There was there­fore time enough for the GESTA to become a fashionable book of tales, before Boccace published his DECAMERON. The action of the DECAMERON being supposed in 1348, the year of the great pestilence, we may safely conjecture, that Boccace did not begin his work till after that period. An exact and ingenious critic has proved, that it was not finished till the year 1358 n.

I have just observed, that Berchorius probably compiled this work for the use of his grammatical pupils. Were there not many good reasons for that supposition, I should be induced to think, that it might have been intended as a book of stories for the purpose of preachers. I have already given instances, that it was antiently fashionable for preachers to enforce the several moral duties by applying fables, or exemplary narratives: and, in the present case, the perpetual recurrence of the address of CARISSIMI might be brought in favour of this hypothesis. But I will here suggest an additional reason. Soon after the age of [Page xciii] Berchorius, a similar collection of stories, of the same cast, was compiled, though not exactly in the same form, professedly de­signed for sermon writers, and by one who was himself an emi­nent preacher: for, rather before the year 1480, a Latin volume was printed in Germany, written by John Herolt a Dominican friar of Basil, better known by the adopted and humble appella­tion of DISCIPULUS, and who flourished about the year 1418. It consists of three parts. The first is entitled ‘"Incipiunt Ser­mones pernotabiles DISCIPULI de Sanctis per anni circu­lum."’ That is, a set of Sermons on the Saints of the whole year. The second part, and with which I am now chiefly con­cerned, is a PROMPTUARY, or ample repository, of examples for composing sermons: and in the Prologue to this part the author says, that saint Dominic always abundabat exemplis in his dis­courses, and that he constantly practiced this popular mode of edification. This part contains a variety of little histories. Among others, are the following. Chaucer's Friar's tale. Aris­totle falling in love with a queen, who compels him to permit her to ride upon his back o. The boy who was kept in a dark cave till he was twelve years of age; and who being carried abroad, and presented with many striking objects, preferred a woman to all he had seen p. A boy educated in a desert is brought into a city, where he sees a woman whom he is taught to call a fine bird, under the name of a goose: and on his re­turn into the desert, desires his spiritual father to kill him a goose for his dinner q. These two last stories Boccace has worked into one. The old woman and her little dog r. This, as we have seen, is in the GESTA ROMANORUM s. The son who will not shoot at his father's dead body t. I give these as specimens of the collection. The third part contains [Page xciv] stories for sermon writers, consisting only of select miracles of the Virgin Mary. The first of these is the tale of the chast [...] Roman empress, occurring in the Harleian manuscripts of the GESTA, and versified by Occleve; yet with some variation t. This third part is closed with these words, which also end the volume. ‘"Explicit tabula Exemplorum in tractatulo de Ex­emplis gloriose Virginis Marie contentorum."’ I quote from the first edition, which is a clumsy folio in a rude Gothic letter, in two volumes; and without pagings, signatures, or initials. The place and year are also wanting; but it was certainly printed before 1480 u, and probably at Nuremburgh. The same author also wrote a set of sermons called Sermones de tempore w. In these I findx Alphonsus's story, which in the GESTA RO­MANORUM is the tale of the two knights of Egypt and Bal­dach y; and, in Boccace's DECAMERON, the history of TITO and GESIPPO: Parnell's HERMIT z: and the apologue of the king's brother who had heard the trumpet of Death a: both which last are also in the GESTA b. Such are the revolutions of taste, and so capricious the modes of composition, that a Latin homily-book of a German monk in the fifteenth century, should exhibit outlines of the tales of Boccace, Chaucer, and Parnell [...]

It may not be thought impertinent to close this discourse with a remark on the MORALISATIONS, subjoined to the stories of the GESTA ROMANORUM. This was an age of vision and mystery: and every work was believed to contain a double, or [Page xcv] secondary, meaning. Nothing escaped this eccentric spirit of refinement and abstraction: and, together with the bible, as we have seen, not only the general history of antient times was ex­plained allegorically, but even the poetical fictions of the classics were made to signify the great truths of religion, with a degree of boldness, and a want of a discrimination, which in another age would have acquired the character of the most profane levity, if not of absolute impiety, and can only be defended from the simplicity of the state of knowledge which then prevailed.

Thus, God creating man of clay, animated with the vital principle of respiration, was the story of Prometheus, wh [...] formed a man of similar materials, to which he communicated life by fire stolen from heaven. Christ twice born, of his father God and of his mother Mary, was prefigured by Bac­chus, who was first born of Semele, and afterwards of Jupiter. And as Minerva sprung from the brain of Jupiter, so Christ proceeded from God without a mother. Christ born of the Virgin Mary was expressed in the fable of Danae shut within a tower, through the covering of which Jupiter descended in a shower of gold, and begot Perseus. Acteon, killed by his own hounds, was a type of the persecution and death of our Saviour. The poet Lycophron relates, that Hercules in returning from the adventure of the Golden Fleece was shipwrecked; and that being devoured by a monstrous fish, he was disgorged alive on the shore after three days. Here was an obvious symbol of Christ's resurrection. John Waleys, an English Fr [...]nciscan of the thirteenth century, in his moral exposition of Ovid's Me­tamorphoses c, affords many other instances equally ridiculous; and who forgot that he was describing a more heterrogeneous chaos, than that which makes so conspicuous a figure in his author's exordium, and which combines, amid the monstrous and indigested aggregate of its unnatural associations,

—Sine pondere habentia pondus d.

[Page xcvi] At length, compositions professedly allegorical, with which that age abounded, were resolved into allegories for which they were never intended. In the famous ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE, written about the year 1310, the poet couches the difficulties of an ardent lover in attaining the object of his passion, under the allegory of a Rose, which is gathered in a delicious but almost inaccessible garden. The theologists proved this rose to be the white rose of Jericho, the new Jerusalem, a state of grace, di­vine wisdom, the holy Virgin, or eternal beatitude, at none of which obstinate heretics can ever arrive. The chemists pre­tended, that it was the philosopher's stone; the civilians, that it was the most consummate point of equitable decision; and the physicians, that it was an infallible panacea. In a word, other professions, in the most elaborate commentaries, explained away the lover's rose into the mysteries of their own respective science. In conformity to this practice, Tasso allegorised his own poem: and a flimsy structure of morality was raised on the chimerical conceptions of Ariosto's ORLANDO. In the year 1577, a translation of a part of Amadis de Gaule appeared in France; with a learned preface, developing the valuable stores of profound instruction, concealed under the naked letter of the old romances, which were discernible only to the intelligent, and totally unperceived by common readers; who, instead of plucking the fruit, were obliged to rest contented with le simple FLEUR de la Lecture litterale. Even Spenser, at a later period, could not indulge his native impulse to descriptions of chivalry, without framing such a story, as conveyed, under the dark con­ceit of ideal champions, a set of historic transactions, and an exemplification of the nature of the twelve moral virtues. He presents his fantastic queen with a rich romantic mirrour, which shewed the wonderous achievements of her magnificent ancestry.

And thou, O fairest princess under sky,
In this fayre mirrour maist behold thy face,
[Page xcvii] And thine own realmes in Lond of Faery,
And in this antique image thy great ancestry c.

It was not, however, solely from an unmeaning and a wanton spirit of refinement, that the fashion of resolving every thing into allegory so universally prevailed. The same apology may be offered for the cabalistical interpreters, both of the classics and of the old romances. The former not willing that those books should be quite exploded which contained the antient mythology, laboured to reconcile the apparent absurdities of the pagan system to the christian mysteries, by demonstrating a figurative resemblance. The latter, as true learning began to dawn, with a view of supporting for a while the expiring credit of giants and magicians, were compelled to palliate those monstrous incre­dibilities, by a bold attempt to unravel the mystic web which had been wove by fairy hands, and by shewing that truth was hid under the gorgeous veil of Gothic invention.

[Page]THE HISTORY OF ENGLISH POETRY.

SECT. XIX.

OUR communications and intercourse with Italy, which began to prevail about the beginning of the sixteenth century, not only introduced the studies of classical lite­rature into England, but gave a new turn to our vernacular poetry. At this period, Petrarch still continued the most favo­rite poet of the Italians; and had established a manner, which was universally adopted and imitated by his ingenious countrymen. In the mean time, the courts both of France and England were distinguished for their elegance. Francis the first had changed the state of letters in France, by mixing gallantry with learning, and by admitting the ladies to his court in company with the ecclesiastics a. His carousals were celebrated with a brilliancy and a festivity unknown to the ceremonious shews of former princes. Henry the eighth vied with Francis in these gaieties. His ambition, which could not bear a rival even in diversions, [Page 2] was seconded by liberality of disposition and a love of ostentation. For Henry, with many boisterous qualities was magnificent and affable. Had he never murthered his wives, his politeness to the fair sex would remain unimpeached. His martial sports were unincumbered by the barbaric pomp of the antient chivalry, and softened by the growing habits of more rational manners. He was attached to those spectacles and public amusements, in which beauty assumed a principal share; and his frequent masques and tournaments encouraged a high spirit of romantic courtesy. Poetry was the natural accompaniment of these re­finements. Henry himself was a leader and a chief character in these pageantries, and at the same time a reader and a writer of verses. The language and the manners of Italy were esteemed and studied. The sonnets of Petrarch were the great models of composition. They entered into the genius of the fashionable manners: and in a court of such a complexion, Pe­trach of course became the popular poet. Henry Howard earl Surrey, with a mistress perhaps as beautiful as Laura, and at least with Petrarch's passion if not his taste, led the way to great im­provements in English poetry, by a happy imitation of Petrarch, and other Italian poets, who had been most successful in paint­ing the anxieties of love with pathos and propriety.

Lord Surrey's life throws so much light on the character and subjects of his poetry, that it is almost impossible to consider the one, without exhibiting a few anecdotes of the other. He was the son and grandson of two lords treasurers dukes of Nor­folk; and in his early childhood discovered the most promising marks of lively parts and an active mind.

While a boy, he was habituated to the modes of a court at Windsor-castle; where he resided, yet under the care of proper instructors, in the quality of a companion to Henry Fitzroy, duke of Richmond, a natural son of king Henry the eighth, and of the highest expectations.

This young nobleman, who also bore other titles and honours, was the child of Henry's affection: not so much on account of [Page 3] hi [...] hopeful abilities, as for a reason insinuated by lord Herbert, and at which those who know Henry's history and character will not be surprised, because he equally and strongly resembled both his father and mother.

A friendship of the closest kind commencing between these two illustrious youths, about the year 1530, they were both re­moved to cardinal Wolsey's college at Oxford, then universally frequented, as well for the excellence as the novelty of its insti­tution; for it was one of the first seminaries of an English uni­versity, that professed to explode the pedantries of the old bar­barous philosophy, and to cultivate the graces of polite litera­ture. Two years afterwards, for the purpose of acquiring every accomplishment of an elegant education, the earl accompanied his noble friend and fellow-pupil into France, where they re­ceived king Henry, on his arrival at Calais to visit Francis the first, with a most magnificent retinue. The frienship of these two young noblemen was soon strengthened by a new tie; for Richmond married the lady Mary Howard, Surrey's sister. Rich­mond, however, appears to have died in the year 1536, about the age of seventeen, having never cohabited with his wife b. It was long, before Surrey forgot the untimely loss of this amiable youth, the friend and associate of his childhood, and who nearly resembled himself in genius, refinement of manners, and liberal acquisitions.

The FAIR GERALDINE, the general object of lord Surrey's passionate sonnets, is commonly said to have lived at Florence, and to have been of the family of the Gera [...]i of that city. This is a mistake, yet not entirely without grounds, propagated by an easy misapprehension of an expression in one of our poet's odes, and a passage in Drayton's heroic epistles. She was un­doubtedly one of the daughters of Gerald Fitzgerald, earl of Kildare. But it will be necessary to transcribe what our author himself has said of this celebrated lady. The history of one [Page 4] who caused so memorable and so poetical a passion naturally ex­cites curiosity, and will justify an investigation, which, on many a similar occasion, would properly be censured as frivolous and impertinent.

From Tuskane came my ladies worthy race;
Faire Florence was sumtyme herc auncient seat:
The westerne yle, whose plesant shore doth face
Wild Camber's cliffs, did gyve her lively heate:
Fostred she was with milke of Irishe brest;
Her sire an earle: her dame of princes blood:
From tender yeres in Britain she doth rest
With kinges child, where she tasteth costly food.
Hunsdon did first present her to mine yien:
Bright is her hewe, and Geraldine she hight.
Hampton me taught to wish her first mine,
And Windsor alas! doth chase me from her sight d.

These notices, it must be confessed, are obscure and indirect. But a late elegant biographer has, with the most happy sagacity, solved the difficulties of this little enigmatical ode, which had been before either neglected and unattempted as inexplicable, or rendered [...] more unintelligible by false conjectures. I readily adopt Mr. Walpole's key to the genealogy of the matchless Geraldine e.

Her poetical appellation is almost her real name. Gerald Fitzgerald, abovementioned, earl of Kildare in the reign of Henry the eighth, married a second wife, Margaret daughter of Thomas Gray, marquis of Dorset: by whom he had three daughters, Margaret, Elisabeth, and Cicely. Margaret was born deaf and dumb; and a lady who could neither hear nor answer her lover, and who wanted the means of contributing to the most endearing reciprocations, can hardly be supposed to have [Page 5] been the cause of any vehement effusions of amorous panegyric. We may therefore safely pronounce Elisabeth or Cicely to have been Surrey's favorite. It was probably Elisabeth, as she seems always to have lived in England.

Every circumstance of the sonnet evidently coincides with this state of the case. But, to begin with the first line, it will naturally be asked, what was lady Elisabeth Gerald's connection with Tuscany? The beginnings of noble families, like those of nations, often owe somewhat to fictitious embellishment: and our genealogists uniformly assert, that the family of Fitzgerald derives its origin from Otho, a descendant of the dukes of Tuscany: that they migrated into England under the reign of king Alfred, whose annals are luckily too scanty to contradict such an account, and were from England speedily transplanted into Ireland. Her father was an Irish earl, resident at his earl­dom of Kildare; and she was consequently born and nursed in Ireland. Her mother, adds the sonnet, was of princely paren­tage. Here is a no less exact correspondence with the line of the lady's pedigree: for Thomas, marquis of Dorset, was son of queen Elisabeth Gray, daughter of the duchess of Bedford, de­scended from the royal house of Luxemburgh. The poet ac­quaints us, that he first saw her at Hunsdon. This notice, which seems of an indifferent nature and quite extraneous to the ques­tion, abundantly corroborates our conjecture. Hundsdon-house in Hertfordshire was a new palace built by Henry the eighth, and chiefly for the purpose of educating his children. The lady Elisabeth Fitzgerald was second cousin to Henry's daughters the princesses Mary and Elisabeth, who were both educated at Huns­don f. At this royal nursery she therefore tasted of costly foode with kinges childe, that is, lived while a girl with the young princesses her relations, as a companion in their education. At the same time, and on the same plan, our earl of Surrey resided at Windsor-castle, as I have already remarked, with the young [Page 6] duke of Richmond. It is natural to suppose, that he sometimes visited the princesses at Hunsdon, in company with the young duke their brother, where he must have also seen the fair Geral­dine: yet by the nature of his situation at Windsor, which im­plied a degree of confinement, he was hindered from visiting her at Hunsdon so often as he wished. He therefore pathetically laments,

Windsor, alas, doth chase me from her sight!

But although the earl first beheld this lady at the palace of Huns­don, yet, as we further learn from the sonnet, he was first struck with her incomparable beauty, and his passion com­menced, at Hampton-court.

Hampton me taught to wish her first for mine!

That is, and perhaps on occasion of some splendid masque or carou­sal, when the lady Elisabeth Fitzgerald, with the princesses Mary and Elisabeth, and their brother Richmond, with the young lord Surrey, were invited by the king to Hampton-court.

In the mean time we must remember, that the lord Leonard Gray, uncle to lord Gerald Fitzgerald, was deputy of Ireland for the young duke of Richmond: a connection, exclusive of all that has been said, which would alone account for Surrey's acquaintance at least with this lady. It is also a reason, to say no more, why the earl should have regarded her from the first with a particular attention, which afterwards grew into the most passionate attachment. She is supposed to have been Maid of honour to queen Catharine. But there are three of Henry's queens of that name. For obvious reasons, however, we may venture to say, that queen Catharine Howard was Geraldine's queen.

It is not precisely known at what period the earl of Surrey began his travels. They have the air of a romance. He made the tour of Europe in the true spirit of chivalry, and with the [Page 7] ideas of an Amadis; proclaiming the unparalleled charms of his mistress, and prepared to defend the cause of her beauty with the weapons of knight-errantry. Nor was this adventurous journey performed without the intervention of an enchanter. The first city in Italy which he proposed to visit was Florence, the capital of Tuscany, and the original seat of the ancestors of his Geraldine. In his way thither, he passed a few days at the emperor's court; where he became acquainted with Cornelius Agrippa, a celebrated adept in natural magic. This visionary philosopher shewed our hero, in a mirror of glass, a living image of Geraldine, reclining on a couch, sick, and reading one of his most tender sonnets by a waxen taper g. His imagination, which wanted not the flattering representations and artificial in­centives of illusion, was heated anew by this interesting and af­fecting spectacle. Inflamed with every enthusiasm of the most romantic passion, he hastened to Florence: and, on his arrival, immediately published a defiance against any person who could handle a lance and was in love, whether Christian, Jew, Turk, Saracen, or Canibal, who should presume to dispute the superio­rity of Geraldine's beauty. As the lady was pretended to be of Tuscan extraction, the pride of the Florentines was flattered on this occasion: and the grand duke of Tuscany permitted a ge­neral and unmolested ingress into his dominions of the comba­tants of all countries, till this important trial should be decided. The challenge was accepted, and the earl victorious h. The shield which he presented to the duke before the tournament be­gan, is exhibited in Vertue's valuable plate of the Arundel family, and was actually in the possession of the late duke of Norfolk i.

These heroic vanities did not, however, so totally engross the time which Surrey spent in Italy, as to alienate his mind from letters: he studied with the greatest success a critical knowledge [Page 8] of the Italian tongue, and, that he might give new lustre to the name of Geraldine, attained a just taste for the peculiar graces of the Italian poetry.

He was recalled to England for some idle reason by the king, much sooner than he expected: and he returned home, the most elegant traveller, the most polite lover, the most learned nobleman, and the most accomplished gentleman, of his age. Dexterity in tilting, and gracefulness in managing a horse under arms, were excellencies now viewed with a critical eye, and practised with a high degree of emulation. In 1540, at a tour­nament held in the presence of the court at Westminster, and in which the principal of the nobility were engaged, Surrey was distinguished above the rest for his address in the use and exercise of arms. But his martial skill was not solely displayed in the parade and ostentation of these domestic combats. In 1542, he marched into Scotland, as a chief commander in his father's army; and was conspicuous for his conduct and bravery at the memorable battle of Flodden-field, where James the fourth of Scotland was killed. The next year, we find the career of his victories impeded by an obstacle which no valour could resist. The censures of the church have humiliated the greatest heroes: and he was imprisoned in Windsor-castle for eating flesh in Lent. The prohibition had been renewed or strengthened by a recent proclamation of the king. I mention this circumstance [...] not only as it marks his character, impatient of any controul, and careless of very serious consequences which often arise from a contempt of petty formalities, but as it gave occasion to one of his most sentimental and pathetic sonnets k. In 1544, he was field-marshal of the English army in the expedition to Bologne, which he took. In that age, love and arms constantly went together: and it was amid the fatigues of this protracted cam­paign, that he composed his last sonnet called the FANSIE of a wearied Lover l.

[Page 9] But as Surrey's popularity encreased, his interest declined with the king; whose caprices and jealousies grew more violent with his years and infirmities. The brilliancy of Surrey's character, his celebrity in the military science, his general abilities, his wit, learning, and affability, were viewed by Henry with dis­gust and suspicion. It was in vain that he possessed every advan­tageous qualification, which could adorn the scholar, the cour­tier, and the soldier. In proportion as he was amiable in the eyes of the people, he became formidable to the king. His rising reputation was misconstrued into a dangerous ambition, and gave birth to accusations equally groundless and frivolous [...] He was suspected of a design to marry the princess Mary; and, by that alliance, of approaching to a possibility of wearing the crown. It was insinuated, that he conversed with foreigners, and held a correspondence with cardinal Pole.

The addition of the escocheon of Edward the Confessor to his own, although used by the family of Norfolk for many years, and justified by the authority of the heralds, was a suffi­cient foundation for an impeachment of high treason. These motives were privately aggravated by those prejudices, with which Henry remembered the misbehaviour of Catharine Howard, and which were extended to all that lady's relations. At length, the earl of Surrey fell a sacrifice to the peevish injustice of a merci­less and ungrateful master. Notwithstanding his eloquent and masculine defence, which even in the cause of guilt itself would have proved a powerful persuasive, he was condemned by the prepared suffrage of a servile and obsequious jury, and beheaded on Tower-hill in the year 1547 m. In the mean time we should remember, that Surrey's public conduct was not on all occasions quite unexceptionable. In the affair of Bologne he had made a false step. This had offended the king. But Henry, when once offended, could never forgive. And when Hertford was sent into France to take the command, he could not refrain from [Page 10] dropping some reproachful expressions against a measure which seemed to impeach his personal courage. Conscious of his high birth and capacity, he was above the little attentions of caution and reserve; and he too frequently neglected to consult his own situation, and the king's temper. It was his misfortune to serve a monarch, whose resentments, which were easily provoked, could only be satisfied by the most severe revenge. Henry brought those men to the block, which other monarchs would have only disgraced.

Among these anecdotes of Surrey's life, I had almost forgot to mention what became of his amour with the fair Geraldine. We lament to find, that Surrey's devotion to this lady did not end in a wedding, and that all his gallantries and verses availed so little! No memoirs of that incurious age have informed us, whether her beauty was equalled by her cruelty; or whether her ambition prevailed so far over her gratitude, as to tempt her to prefer the solid glories of a more splendid title and ample for­tune, to the challenges and the compliments, of so magnani­mous, so faithful, and so eloquent a lover. She appears, however, to have been afterwards the third wife of Edward Clinton, earl of Lincoln. Such also is the power of time and accident over amorous vows, that even Surrey himself outlived the violence of his passion. He married Frances, daughter of John earl of Oxford, by whom he left several children. One of his daugh­ters, Jane countess of Westmoreland, was among the learned ladies of that age, and became famous for her knowledge of the Greek and Latin languages n.

Surrey's poems were in high reputation with his cotempora­ries, and for many years afterwards. He is thus characterised by the author of the old ARTE OF ENGLISH POESIE, whose opinion remained long as a rule of criticism. ‘"In the latter end of the same kinges [Henry] raigne, spronge up a new company of courtly makers, of whom sir Thomas Wyat the [Page 11] elder and Henry earle of Surrey were the two CHIEFTAINES, who having travailed into Italie, and there tasted the sweete and stately measured and stile of the Italian poesie, as novices newly crept out of the schooles of Dante, Ariosto, and Pe­trarch, they greatly polished our rude and homely manner of vulgar poesie from that it had bene before, and for that cause may justly be sayd the first reformers of our English meeter and stile o."’ And again, towards the close of the same chap­ter. ‘"Henry earle of Surrey, and sir Thomas Wyat, between whom I finde very little difference, I repute them (as before) for the two chief lanternes of light to all others that have since employed their pennes upon English poesie: their con­ceits were loftie, their stiles stately, their conveyance cleanly, their termes proper, their meetre sweete and well-propor­tioned, in all imitating very naturally and studiously their maister Francis Petrarcha p."’ I forbear to recite the testimo­nies of Leland, Sydney, Tuberville, Churchyard, and Drayton. Nor have these pieces, although scarcely known at present, been without the panegyric of more recent times. Surrey is praised by Waller, and Fenton; and he seems to have been a fa­vorite with Pope. Pope, in WINDSOR-FOREST, having com­pared his patron lord Granville with Surrey, he was immediately reprinted, but without attracting many readers q. It was vainly imagined, that all the world would eagerly wish to purchase the works of a neglected antient English poet, whom Pope had called the GRANVILLE of a former age. So rapid are the revo­lutions of our language, and such the uncer [...]ainty of literary fame, that Philips, Milton's nephew, who wrote about the year 1674, has remarked, that in his time Surrey's poetry was antiquated and totally forgotten r.

Our authors SONGES AND SONNETTES, as they have been stiled, were first collected and printed at London by Tottell, [Page 12] in 1557 s. As it happens in collections of this kind, they are of various merit. Surrey is said, by the ingenious author of the MUSES LIBRARY, to have been the first who broke through the fashion of stanzas, and wrote in the heroic couplet. But all Surrey's poems are in the alternate rhyme; nor, had this been true, is the other position to be granted. Chaucer's Prologues and most of the Canterbury Tales are written in long verse: nor was the use of the couplet resumed, till late in the reign of Elisabeth.

In the sonnets of Surrey, we are surprised to find nothing of that metaphysical cast which marks the Italian poets, his sup­posed masters, especially Petrarch. Surrey's sentiments are for the most part natural and unaffected; arising from his own feel­ings, and dictated by the present circumstances. His poetry is alike unembarrassed by learned allusions, or elaborate conceits. If our author copies Petrarch, it is Petrarch's better manner: when he descends from his Platonic abstractions, his refinements of passion, his exaggerated compliments, and his play upon oppo­site sentiments, into a track of tenderness, simplicity, and nature. Petrarch would have been a better poet had he been a worse scho­lar. Our author's mind was not too much overlaid by learning.

The following is the poem abovementioned, in which he laments his imprisonment in Windsor-castle. But it is rather an elegy than a sonnet.

So cruel prison, how coulde betyde, alas,
As proude Windsor t! where I, in lust and joye u,
With a kynges sonnew my childishe yeres did passe,
In greater feast than Priam's sonnes of Troye.
Where eche swete place returnes a taste full sower:
The large grene courtes where we were wont to hove x,
[Page 13] With eyes cast up into the mayden's tower y,
And easie sighes, such as men drawe in love:
The stately seates, the ladies bright of hewe,
The daunces shorte, long tales of great delight,
With wordes and lookes that tigers could but rewe z;
Where ech of us did pleade the others right.
The palme-play a, where, dispoyled for the game b,
With dazed yies c, oft we by gleames of love,
Have mist the ball, and got sight of our dame,
To bayted her eyes which kept the leads above e,
The gravell grounde f, with sleves tied on the helme g,
On fomyng horse, with swordes and frendly hartes;
With cheareh as though one should another whelme i,
Where we have fought and chased oft with dartes.—
The secret groves, which ofte we made resounde
Of pleasaunt playnt, and of our ladies praise,
[Page 14] Recording ofte what gracek ech one had founde,
What hope of speede l, what drede of long delayes.
The wilde forest, the clothed holtes with grene,
With raynes avayled m, and swift ybreathed horse,
With crie of houndes, and merry blastes betwene
Where we did chase the fearful harte of force.
The wide vales n n eke, that harbourd us ech night,
Wherewith, alas, reviveth in my brest
The sweete accorde! Such slepes as yet delight:
The pleasant dreames, the quiet bed of rest.
The secret thoughtes imparted with such trust;
The wanton talke, the divers chan [...]e of play;
The frendship sworne, eche promise kept so just,
Wherewith we past the winter night away.
And with this thought the bloud forsakes the face;
The teares berayne my chekes of deadly hewe,
The whych as sone as sobbing sighes, alas,
Upsupped have, thus I my plaint renewe!
"O place of blisse, renewer of my woes!
"Give me accompt, where is my noble fere o,
"Whom in thy walles thou dostp ech night enclose,
"To other leefe q, but unto me most dere!"
Eccho, alas, that doth my sorrow rew r,
Returnes therto a hollow sounde of playnte.
Thus I alone, where all my fredom grewe,
In prison pine, with bondage and restrainte.
And with remembrance of the greater greefe
To banish th' lesse, I find my chief releefe s.

In the poet's situation, nothing can be more natural and striking than the reflection with which he opens his complaint. There is also much beauty in the abruptness of his exordial exclamation. The superb palace, where he had passed the most pleasing days of his youth with the son of a king, was now con­verted into a tedious and solitary prison! This unexpected vicis­situde of fortune awakens a new and interesting train of thought. The comparison of his past and present circumstances recals their juvenile sports and amusements; which were more to be regretted, as young Richmond was now dead. Having described some of these with great elegance, he recurs to his first idea by a beautiful apostrophe. He appeals to the place of his confine­ment, once the source of his highest pleasures: ‘"O place of bliss, renewer of my woe [...]! And where is now my noble friend, my companion is these delights, who was once your [Page 16] inhabitant! Echo alone either pities or answers my question, and returns a plaintive hollow sound!"’ He closes his com­plaint with an affecting and pathetic sentiment, much in the style of Petrarch. ‘"To banish the miseries of my present distress, I am forced on the wretched expedient of remem­bering a greater!"’ This is the consolation of a warm fancy. It is the philosophy of poetry.

Some of the following stanzas, on a lover who presumed to compare his lady with the divine Geraldine, have almost the ease and gallantry of Waller. The leading compliment, which has been used by later writers, is in the spirit of an Italian fiction. It is very ingenious, and handled with a high degree of elegance.

Give place, ye Lovers, here before
That spent your bostes and bragges in vaine:
My Ladie's bewty passeth more
The best of yours, I dare wel saine,
Than doth the sunne the candle light,
Or brightest day the darkest night.
And therto hath a troth as just
As had Penelope the faire;
For what she sayth, ye may it trust,
As it by writing sealed were:
And vertues hath she many moe
Than I with pen have skill to showe.
I could reherse, if that I would,
The whole effect of NATURE'S plaint,
When she had lost the perfite mould,
The like to whom she could not paint.
With wringyng handes how she did cry!
And what she said, I know it, I.
I knowe, she swore with ragyng minde,
Her kingdom only set apart,
There was no losse, by lawe of kinde,
That could have gone so neare her hart:
And this was chefely all her paine
She could not make the like againe t.—

The versification of these stanzas is correct, the language po­lished, and the modulation musical. The following stanza, of another ode, will hardly be believed to have been produced in the reign of Henry the eighth.

Spite drave me into Boreas' raigne u,
Where hory frostes the frutes do bite;
When hilles were spred and every plaine
With stormy winter's mantle white w.

In an Elegy on the elder sir Thomas Wyat's death, his character is delineated in the following nervous and manly quatraines.

A visage, sterne and mylde; where both did growe [...]
Vice to contemne, in vertue to rejoyce;
Amid great stormes, whom grace assured so,
To live upright, and smile at fortune's choyce.—
A toung that serv'd in forein realmes his king,
Whose courteous talke to vertue did enflame
Eche noble hart; a worthy guide to bring
Our English youth by travail unto fame.
An eye, whose judgement none affectx could blind [...]
Friends to allure, and foes to reconcile:
[Page 18] Whose persingy looke did represent a minde
With virtue fraught, reposed, voyd of gile.
A hart, where dreade was never so imprest
To hide the thought that might the truth advance;
In neither fortune lost, nor yet represt,
To swell in welth, or yeld unto mischance z.—

The following lines on the same subject are remarkable.

Divers thy deth do diversly bemone:
Some that in presence of thy livelyhede
Lurked, whose brestes envy with hate had swolne,
Yeld Cesar's teares upon Pompeius' head a.

There is great dignity and propriety in the following Sonnet on Wyat's PSALMS.

The Macedon, that out of Persia chased
Darius, of whose power all Asia rong,
In the riche arkeb Dan Homer's rimes he placed,
Who fained gestes of heathen princes song.
What holy grave, what worthy sepulture c,
To Wyat's Psalmes should Christians then purchàse?
Where he doth paint the lively faith and pure;
The stedfast hope, the swete returne to grace
Of just David by perfite penitence.
Where rulers may see in a mirrour clere
The bitter fruite of false concupiscence:
How Jewry bought Uria's deth ful dere.
In princes hartes God's scourge imprinted depe
Ought them awake out of their sinful slepe d.

[Page 19] Probably the last lines may contain an oblique allusion to some of the king's amours.

Some passages in his Description of the restlesse state of a Lover, are pictures of the heart, and touched with delicacy.

I wish for night, more covertly to plaine,
And me withdrawe from every haunted place;
Lest by my cheree my chance appeare too plaine.
And in my mynde I mesure, pace by pace,
To seke the place where I myself had lost,
That day, when I was tangled in the lace,
In seming slack that knitteth ever most.—
Lo, if I seke, how I do finde my sore!
And if I flee, I carry with me still
The venom'd shaft, which doth its force restore
By haste of flight. And I may plaine my fill
Unto myself, unlesse this carefull song
Print in your hart some parcel of my tene f.
For I, alas, in sil [...]nce all too long,
Of mine old hurt yet fele the wound but grene g.

Surrey's talents, which are commonly supposed to have been confined to sentiment and amorous lamentation, were adapted to descriptive poetry and the representations of rural imagery. A writer only that viewed the beauties of nature with poetic eyes, could have selected the vernal objects which compose the following exquisite ode h.

The soote season, that bud and blome forth brings,
With grene hath clad the hill, and eke the val [...];
The nightingale with fethers new she sings;
The turtle to her mate hath told her tale:
[Page 20] Somer is come, for every spray now springs.
The hart hath hong his old hed on the pale:
The buck in brake his winter coate he flings:
The fishes flete with new repayred scale;
The adder all her slough away she flings:
The swift swalow pursueth the flies smale:
The busy bee her hony now she mings.
Winter is worne that was the flowers bale i.

I do not recollect a more faithful and finished version of Martial's HAPPY LIFE than the following.

MARTIAL, the thinges that doe attain
The happy life, be these I finde.
The richesse left, not got with pain,
The fruitfull grounde, the quiet minde.
The equall frend, no grudge, no strife,
No charge of rule, nor governaunce;
Without disease, the healthful life:
The houshold of continuance.
The diet meane k, no delicate fare,
Trewe wisdom joynde with simplenesse:
The night discharged of all care,
Where wine the wit may not oppresse.
The faithful wife without debate,
Such slepes as may begile the night:
Contented with thine owne estate,
Ne wish for death, ne feare his might l.

But Surrey was not merely the poet of idleness and gallantry. He was fitted both from nature and study, for the more solid and laborious parts of literature. He translated the second and fourth books of Virgil into blank verse m: and it seems probable, that [Page 21] his active situations of life prevented him from completing a design of translating the whole Eneid.

This is the first composition in blank verse, extant in the English language. Nor has it merely the relative and accidental merit of being a curiosity. It is executed with great fidelity, yet not with a prosaic servility. The diction is often poetical, and the versification varied with proper pauses. This is the de­scription of Dido and Eneas going to the field, in the fourth book.

—At the threshold of her chaumber-dore,
The Carthage lords did on the Quene attend:
The trampling steed, with gold and purple trapt,
Chawing the foming bit ther fercely stood.
Then issued she, awayted with great train,
Clad in a cloke of Tyre embrawderd riche.
Her quyver hung behinde her backe, her tresse
Knotted in gold, her purple vesture eke
Buttned with gold. The Trojans of her train
Before her go, with gladsom Iulus.
Aeneas eke, the goodliest of the route,
Makes one of them, and joyneth close the throng.
Lyke when Apollo leaveth Lycia,
His wintring place, and Xanthus' flood likewise,
To visit Delos, his mother's mansion,
Repairing eft and furnishing her quire:
The Candians, and the folke of Driopes,
With painted Agathyrsies, shoute and crye,
Environing the altars round about;
When that he walkes upon mount Cynthus' top,
His sparkled tresse represt with garlandes softe
Of tender leaves, and trussed up in golde:
His quiveringn dartes clattering behind his back.
So fresh and lustie did Aeneas seme.—
But to the hils and wilde holtes when they came,
From the rockes top the driven savage rose.
[Page 22] Loe from the hills above, on thother side,
Through the wide lawns they gan to take their course.
The harts likewise, in troupes taking their flight,
Raysing the dust, the mountain-fast forsake.
The childe Iu [...]us, blithe of his swift steede p
Amids the plaine, now pricks by them, now these;
And to encounter, wisheth oft in minde,
The foming bore, in steede of fearfull beasts,
Or lion brown, might from the hill descend.

The first stages of Dido's passion, with its effects on the rising city, are thus rendered.

—And when they al were gone,
And the dimme moone doth eft withold her light;
And slidingq starres provoked unto slepe:
Alone she mournes within her palace voide,
And sits her downe on her forsaken bed:
And absent him she heares, when he is gone,
And seeth eke. Oft in her lappe she holdes
Ascanius, trapped by his father's forme.
So to begile the love cannot be told r!
The turrettes now arise not, erst begonne:
Neither the youth welde armes, nor they avance
The portes, nor other mete defence for warr.
Broken there hang the workes, and mighty frames
Of walles high raised, thretening the skie.

The introduction of the wooden horse into Troy, in the same book, is thus described.

We cleft the walles, and closures of the towne,
Whereto all helpe: and underset the feet
[Page 23] With sliding rolles, and bound his neck with ropes.
The fatal gin thus overclambe our walles,
Stuft with armd men: about the which there ran
Children and maides s, that holy carolles sang.
And well were they whoes hands might touch the cordes!
With thretning chere, thus slided through our town
The subtill tree, to Pallas temple-ward.
O native la [...]d, Ilion, and of the goddes
The mansion placce! O warlik walles of Troy!
Four times it stopt in thentrie of our gate,
Four times the harnesset clatterd in the wombe.

The shade of Hector, in the same book, thus appears.

Ah me! What one? That Hector how unlike,
Which erst, returnd clad with Achilles spoiles!
Or when he threw into the Grekish shippes
The Trojan flame! So was his beard defiled,
His crisped lockes al clustred with his blood:
With al such woundes as many he received,
About the walles of that his native towne!
Whom franckly thus, methought, I spake unto,
With bitter teres, and dolefull deadly voice.
"O Trojan light! O only hope of thine!
"What lettes so long thee staid? Or from what costes,
"Our most desired Hector, dost thou come?
"Whom, after slaughter of our many frends,
"And travail of thy people, and thy towne,
"Alweried, (lord!) how gladly we behold!
[Page 24] "What sory chaunce hath stained thy lively face?
"Or why see I these woundes, alas so wide!"
He answeard nought, nor in my vain demaundes
Abode: but from the bottom of his brest
Sighing he sayd: "Flee, flee, O goddesse son!
"And save thee from the furie of this flame!"

This was a noble attempt to break the bondage of rhyme. But blank verse was now growing fashionable in the Italian poetry, the school of Surrey. Felice Figlinei, a Sanese, and Surrey's cotemporary, in his admirable Italian commentary on the ETHICS of Aristotle, entitled FILOSOSIA MORALE SOPRA IL LIBRI D' ETHICA D'ARISTOTILE, declaims against the barbarity of rhyme, and strongly recommends a total rejection of this Gothic ornament to his countrymen. He enforces his precept by his own example; and translates all Aristotle's quotations from Homer and Euripides into verse without rhyme. Gonsalvo Perez, the learned secretary to Philip of Spain, had also recently tran­slated Homer's Odyssey into Spanish blank-verse. How much the excellent Roger Ascham approved of Surrey's disuse of rhyme in this translation from Virgil, appears from the following pas­sage in his SCHOLEMASTER, written about the year 1566 u. ‘"The noble lord Thomas earle of Surrey, FIRST OF ALL ENGLISHMEN, in translating the fourth [and second] booke of Virgill: and Gonsalvo Perez, that excellent learned man, and secretarie to king Philip of Spayne w, in translating the ULYSSES of Homer out of the Greeke into Spanish, have both by good judgement avoyded the FAULT OF RYMING.—The spying of this fault now is not the curiositie of English eyes, but even the good judgement also of the best [Page 25] that write in these dayes in Italie.—And you, that be able to understand no more than ye find in the Italian tong: and never went further than the schoole of PETRARCH and ARIOSTO abroade, or else of CHAUCER at home, though you have pleasure to wander blindlie still in your foule wronge way, envie not others, that seeke, as wise men have done before them, the FAYREST and RYGHTEST way.—And therefore, even as Virgill and Horace deserve most worthie prayse, that they, spying the unperfitness in Ennius and Plautus, by trewe imitation of Homer and Euripides, brought poetrie to the same perfectnes in Latin as it was in Greeke, even so those, that by the same way would BENEFIT THEIR TONG and country, deserve rather thankes than disprayse x."’

The revival of the Greek and Roman poets in Italy, excited all the learned men of that country to copy the Roman versifica­tion, and consequently banished the old Leonine Latin verse. The same classical idea operated in some degree on the vernacular poetry of Italy. In the year 1528, Trissino published his ITA­LIA LIBERATA DI GOTI, or, ITALY DELIVERED FROM THE GOTHS, an heroic poem, professedly written in imitation of the Iliad, without either rhyme, or the usual machineries of the Gothic romance. Trissino's design was to destroy the TERZA RIMA of Dante. We do not, however, find, whether it be from the facility with which the Italian tongue falls into rhyme, or that the best and established Italian poets wrote in the stanza, that these efforts to restore blank-verse, produced any lasting effects in the progress of the Italian poetry. It is very probable, that this specimen of the Eneid in blank-verse by Surrey, led the way to Abraham Fleming's blank-verse translation of Virgil's Bucolics and Georgics, although done in Alexandrines, published in the year 1589 y.

Lord Surrey wrote many other English poems which were never [Page 26] published, and are now perhaps entirely lost. He translated the ECCLESIASTES of Solomon into English verse. This piece is cited in the Preface to the Translation of the Psalms, printed at London in 1567. He also translated a few of the Psalms into metre. These versions of Scripture shew that he was a friend to the refor­mation. Among his works are also recited, a Poem on his friend the young duke of Richmond, an Exhortation to the citizens of London, a Translation of Boccace's Epistle to Pinus, and a sett of Latin epistles. Aubrey has preserved a poetical Epitaph, written by Surrey on sir Thomas Clere, his faithful retainer and constant attendant, which was once in Lambeth-church y; and which, for its affection and elegance, deserves to be printed among the earl's poems. I will quote a few lines.

Shelton for love, Surrey for lord thee chase z:
(Aye me, while life did last that league was tender!)
Tracing whose steps, thou sawest Kelsall blase,
Laundersey burnt, and batterd Bulleyn's render a:
At Mortrell gates b, hopeless of all recure,
Thine earle halfe dead gave in thy hand his Will;
Which cause did thee this pining death procure,
Ere summers foure tymes seven thou couldst fulfill.
Ah, Clere! if love had booted care or cost,
Heaven had not wonne, nor earth so timely lost c!

John Clerc, who travelled into Italy with Pace, an eminent linguist of those times, and secretary to Thomas duke of Nor­folk father of lord Surrey, in a dedication to the latter, pre­fixed to his TRETISE OF NOBILITIE printed at London in 1543 d, has mentioned, with the highest commendations, many translations done by Surrey, from the Latin, Italian, French, and [Page 27] Spanish languages. But these it is probable were [...]othing more than juvenile exercises.

Surrey, for his justness of thought, correctness of style, and purity of expression, may justly be pronounced the first English classical poet. He unquestionably is the first polite writer of love­verses in our language. It must, however, be allowed, that there is a striking native beauty in some of our love-verses written much earlier than Surrey's. But in the most savage ages and countries, rude nature has taught elegance to the lover.

SECT. XX.

WITH Surrey's Poems, Tottel has joined, in his editions of 1557 and 1565, the SONGES and SONNETTES of sir Thomas Wyat the elder a, and of Uncertain Auctours.

Wyat was of Allington-castle in Kent, which he magnificently repaired, and educated in both our universities. But his chief and most splendid accomplishments were derived from his travels into various parts of Europe, which he frequently visited in the quality of an envoy. He was endeared to king Henry the eighth, who did not always act from caprice, for his fidelity and success in the execution of public business, his skill in arms, literature, familiarity with languages, and lively conversation. Wood, who degrades every thing by poverty of style and improper represen­tations, says, that ‘"the king was in a high manner delighted with his witty jests b."’ It is not perhaps improbable, that Henry was as much pleased with his repartees as his politics. He is re­ported to have occasioned the reformation by a joke, and to have planned the fall of cardinal Wolsey by a seasonable story c. But he had almost lost his popularity, either from an intimacy with queen Anne Boleyn, which was called a connection, or the gloomy cabals of bishop Bonner, who could not bear his poli­tical superiority. Yet his prudence and integrity, no less than the powers of his oratory, justified his innocence. He laments his severe and unjust imprisonment on that trying occasion, in a sonnet addressed to sir Francis Bryan: insinuating his sollici­tude, that although the wound would be healed, the scar would [Page 29] remain, and that to be acquitted of the accusation would avail but little, while the thoughts of having been accused were still fresh in remembrance d. It is a common mistake, that he died abroad of the plague in an embassy to Charles the fifth. Being sent to conduct that emperor's embassador from Falmouth to London, from too eager and a needless desire of executing his commission with dispatch and punctuality, he caught a fever by riding in a hot day, and in his return died on the road at Shir­burn, where he was buried in the great conventual church, in the year 1541. The next year, Leland published a book of Latin verses on his death, with a wooden print of his head pre­fixed, probably done by Holbein e. It will be superfluous to transcribe the panegyrics of his cotemporaries, after the enco­mium of lord Surrey, in which his amiable character owes more to truth, than to the graces of poetry, or to the flattery of friendship.

We must agree with a critic above quoted, that Wyat co­operated with Surry, in having corrected the roughness of our poetic style. But Wyat, although sufficiently distinguished from the common versifiers of his age, is confessedly inferior to Surrey in harmony of numbers, perspicuity of expression, and facility of phraseology. Nor is he equal to Surrey in elegance of senti­timent, in nature and sensibility. His feelings are disguised by affectation, and obscured by conceit. His declarations of passion are embarrassed by wit and fancy; and his style is not intelli­gible, in proportion as it is careless and unadorned. His compli­ments, like the modes of behaviour in that age, are ceremonious and strained. He has too much art as a lover, and too little as a poet. His gallantries are laboured, and his versification negli­gent. The truth is, his genius was of the moral and didactic species: and his poems abound more in good sense, satire, and observations on life, than in pathos or imagination. Yet there [Page 30] is a degree of lyric sweetness in the following lines to his lute, in which, The lover complaineth of the unkindness of his love.

My Lute awake, performe the last
Labour, that thou and I shall wast;
And end that I have now begonne:
And when this song is sung and past,
My lute be still, for I have done.
As to be heard where care is none,
As leade to grave in marble stone;
My song, now pearse her hart as sone.
Should we then sigh, or sing, or mone?
No, no, my lute, for I have done.
The rockes do not so cruelly
Repulse the waves continually,
As she my sute and affection:
So that I am past remedy.
Wherebyf my lute and I have done.
Proude of the spoile which thou has gotte
Of simple hartes, through Loves shotte,
By whom unkinde thou hast them wonne;
Thinke not he hath his bowe forgotte,
Although my lute and I have done.
Vengeance shall fall on thy disdaine,
That makest but game on earnest paine:
Thinke not alone under the sunne
Unquitg to cause thy lovers plaine:
Although my lute and I have done.
May chaunce theeh lie withered and olde
In winter nightes that are so colde,
Plaining in vaine unto the mone i:
Thy wishes then dare not be tolde:
Care then who list, for I have done.
And then may chaunce thee to repent
The time that thou hast lost and spent,
To cause thy lovers sighe and swowne;
Then shalt thou know beautie but lent,
And wish and want as I have done.
Now cease my lute, this is the last
Labour, that thou and I shall wast;
And ended is that that we begonne.
Now is this song both song and past,
My lute be still, for I have done k.

Our author has more imitations, and even translations, from the Italian poets than Surrey: and he seems to have been more fond of their conceits. Petrarch has described the perplexities of a lover's mind, and his struggles betwixt hope and despair, a subject most fertile of sentimental complaint, by a combination of contrarieties, a species of wit highly relished by the Italians. I am, says he, neither at peace nor war. I burn, and I freeze. I soar to heaven, and yet grovel on the earth. I can hold no­thing, and yet grasp every thing. My prison is neither shut, nor is it opened. I see without eyes, and I complain without a voice. I laugh, and I weep. I live, and am dead. Laura [...] to what a condition am I reduced, by your cruelty!

Pace non trovo, e non ho da far guerra;
E temo, e spero, ed ardo, e son en un ghiaccio:
E volo sopra'l cielo, e giaccio in terra:
E nulla stringo, e tutto l'mondo abraiccio.
Tal m'ha in prigion, che non m'apre nè serra l;
Nè per suo mi rittien, ne scioglie il laccio;
E non m'uccide Amor, e non mi sferra;
Ni mi vuol vivo, ni mi trae d'impaccio.
[Page 32] Veggio senz' occhi, e non ho lingua, e grido;
E bramo di perir, e cheggio aita;
Ed ho in odio me stesso, ed amo altrui:
Pascomi di dolor, piangendo rido.
Egualmente mi spiace morte, e vita:
In questo stato son, Donna, per vui m.

Wyat has thus copied this sonnet of epigrams.

I finde no peace, and all my warre is done:
I fear and hope, I burne and frese likewyse:
I flye aloft, and yet cannot aryse;
And nought I have, and at the world I season;
That lockesn nor loseth, [nor] holdeth me in prison.
And holdes me not, yet can I scape no wise;
Nor lettes me live, nor dye, at my devi [...]e,
And yet of death it giveth me occasion.
Without eye I se, without tong I playne:
I wish to perish, yet I aske for helth;
I love another, and I hate myselfe;
I fede me in sorow, and laugh in all my paine.
Lo thus displeaseth me both death and life
And my delight is causer of this strife o.

It was from the capricious and over-strained invention of the Italian poets, that Wyat was taught to [...]orture the passion of love by prolix and intricate comparisons, and unnatural allusions. At one time his love is a galley steered by cruelty through stormy seas and dangerous rocks; the sails torn by the blast of tem­pestuous sighs, and the cordage consumed by incessant showers of tears: a cloud of grief envelopes the stars [...] reason is drowned, [Page 33] and the haven is at a distance p. At another q, it is a spring trickling from the summit of the Alps, which gathering force in its fall, at length overflows all the plain beneath r. Some­times, it is a gun, which being overcharged, expands the flame within itself, and bursts in pieces s. Sometimes it is like a pro­digious mountain, which is perpetually weeping in copious foun­tains, and sending forth sighs from its forests: which bears more leaves than fruits: which breeds wild-beasts, the proper em­blems of rage, and harbours birds that are always singing f. In another of his sonnets, he says, that all nature sympathises with his passion. The woods resound his elegies, the rivers stop their course to hear him complain, and the grass weeps in dew. These thoughts are common and fantastic. But he adds an image which is new, and has much nature and sentiment, al­though not well expressed.

The hugy okes have rored in the winde,
Eche thing, methought, complaining in theyr kinde.

This is a touch of the pensive. And the apostrophe which fol­lows is natural and simple.

Ah stony hart, who hath thus framed thee
So cruel, that art clothed with beautie t!

And there is much strength in these lines of the lover to his bed.

The place of slepe, wherein I do but wake,
Besprent with tears, my bed, I thee forsake u!

But such passages as these are not the general characteristics of Wyat's poetry. They strike us but seldom, amidst an impracticable [Page 34] mass of forced reflections, hyperbolical metaphors, and complaints that move no compassion.

But Wyat appears a much more pleasing writer, when he moralises on the felicities of retirement, and attacks the vanities and vices of a court, with the honest indignation of an inde­pendent philosopher, and the freedom and pleasantry of Horace. Three of his poetical epistles are professedly written in this strain, two to John Poines v, and the other to sir Francis Bryan: and we must regret, that he has not left more pieces in a style of composition for which he seems to have been eminently qua­lified. In one of the epistles to Poines on the life of a cour­tier, are these spirited and manly reflections.

Myne owne John Poines, since ye delite to know
The causes why that homewarde I me drawe,
And flee the preasew of courtes, where so they go x;
Rather than to live thrall under the awe
Of lordly looks, wrapped within my cloke;
To will and lust learning to set a law:
It is not that, because I scorne or mocke
The power of them, whom Fortune here hath lent
Charge over us, of Righty to strike the stroke:
But true it is, that I have alwayes ment
Lesse to esteeme them, (than the common sort)
Of outwarde thinges that judge, in their entent,
Without regarde what inward doth resort.
I graunt sometime of glory that the fire
Doth touch my heart. Me list not to report z
Blame by honour, nor honour to desire.
But how can I this honour now attaine,
That cannot die the colour black a liar?
[Page 35] My Poines, I cannot frame my tunea to faine,
To cloke the truth, &c.

In pursuit of this argument, he declares his indisposition and inability to disguise the truth, and to flatter, by a variety of instances. Among others, he protests he cannot prefer Chaucer's TALE of SIR THOPAS to his PALAMON AND AR [...]ITE.

Prayse SIR THOPAS for a noble tale,
And scorne the STORY that the KNIGHT tolde;
Praise him for counsell that is dronke of ale:
Grinne when he laughes, that beareth all the sway;
Frowne when he frownes, and grone when he is pale:
On others lust to hang both night and day, &c.

I mention this circumstance about Chaucer, to shew the esteem in which the KNIGHT'S TALE, that noble epic poem of the dark ages, was held in the reign of Henry eighth, by men of taste.

The poet's execration of flatterers and courtiers is contrasted with the following entertaining picture of his own private life and rural enjoyments at Allingham-castle in Kent.

This is the cause that I could never yet
Hang on their sleeve [...], that weigh, as thou maist se,
A chippe of chaunce more than a pounde of wit:
This maketh me at home to hunt and hawke,
And in fowle wether at my booke to sit;
In frost and snowe then with my bow to stalke;
No man doth marke whereso I ride or go:
In lusty leasb at liberty I walke:
And of these newes I fele no weale nor wo:
[Page 36] Save that a clogge doth hange yet at my hele c;
No force for that, for it is ordred so,
That I may leape both hedge and dike ful wele.
I am not now in Fraunce, to judge the wine, &c.
But I am here in Kent and Christendome,
Among the Muses, where I reade and rime;
Where if thou list, mine owne John Poines to come,
Thou shalt be judge how do I spende my time d.

In another epistle to John Poines, on the security and happi­ness of a moderate fortune, he versifies the fable of the City and Country Mouse with much humour.

My mother's maides, when they do sowe and spinne,
They sing a song made of the feldishe mouse, &c.

This fable appositely suggests a train of sensible and pointed ob­servations on the weakness of human conduct, and the delusive plans of life.

Alas, my Poines, how men do seke the best,
And finde the worse by errour as they stray:
And no marvell, when sight is so opprest,
And blindes the guide: anone out of the way
Goeth guide and all, in seking quiet lyfe.
O wretched myndes! There is no golde that may
Graunt that you seke: no warre, no peace, no strife:
No, no, although thy head were hoopt with golde:
Serjaunt at mace, with hawbert e, sworde, nor knife,
Cannot repulse the care that folow shoulde.
Eche kinde of life hath with him his disease:
Live in delites, even as thy lust would,
[Page 37] And thou shalt finde, when lust doth most thee please,
It irketh strait, and by itself doth fade.
A small thing is it, that may thy minde appease?
None of you al there is that is so madde,
To seke for grapes on brambles or on breeres g;
Nor nonne, I trowe, that hath a wit so badde,
To sett his hay for conneyes oer rivères.
Nor yet set not a drag net for a hare:
And yet the thing that most is your desire
You do misseke, with more travell and care.
Make plaine thine hart, that it be not knotted
With hope or dreade: and se thy will be bare h
From all affects i, whom vice hath never spotted.
Thyself content with that is thee assinde k;
And use it wel that is to the allotted.
Then seke no more out of thyself to fynde,
The thing that thou hast sought so long before,
For thou shalt feele it sticking in thy mynde.—

These Platonic doctrines are closed with a beautiful applica­tion of virtue personified, and introduced in her irresistible charms of visible beauty. For those who deviate into vain and vicious pursuits,

None other paine pray I for them to be,
But when the rage doth leade them from the right,
That, loking backwarde, VIRTUE they may se
Even as she is, so goodly faire and bright l!

With these disinterested strains we may join the following single stanza, called THE COURTIERS LIFE.

In court to serve, decked with freshe aray,
Of sugredm meates feeling the swete repaste;
The life in bankets, and sundry kindes of play,
Amid the prease of worldly lookes to waste:
Hath with it joinde oft times such bitter taste,
That whoso joyes such kind of life to hold,
In prison joyes, fettred with chaines of gold n.

Wyat may justly be deemed the first polished English satirist. I am of opinion, that he mistook his talents when, in com­pliance with the mode, he became a sonnetteer; and, if we may judge from a few instances, that he was likely to have treated any other subject with more success than that of love. His abi­lities were seduced and misapplied in fabricating fine speeches to an obdurate mistress. In the following little ode, or rather epi­gram, on a very different occasion, there is great simplicity and propriety, together with a strain of poetic allusion. It is on his return from Spain into England.

Tagus farewel, that westward with thy stremes
Turnes up the graines of gold al redy tride o!
For I with spurre and [...]ayle go seke the Temes p,
Gainward the sunne that shewes her welthy pride:
And to the town that Brutus sought by dremes q,
Like bended mooner that leanes her lustys side;
My king, my countrey I seke, for whom I live:
O mighty Jove, the windes for this me give t!

Among Wyat's poems is an unfinished translation, in Alexan­drine verse, of the Song of Iopas in the first book of Virgil's Eneid u. Wyat's and Surrey's versions from Virgil are the first [Page 39] regular translations in English of an antient classic poet: and they are symptoms of the restoration of the study of the Roman writers, and of the revival of elegant literature. A version of David's Psalms by Wyat is highly extolled by lord Surrey and Leland. But Wyat's version of the PENITENTIAL PSALMS seems to be a separate work from his translation of the whole Psaltery, and probably that which is praised by Surrey, in an ode above quoted, and entitled, Praise of certain Psalmes of David, translated by Sir T. Wyat the elder w. They were printed with this title, in 1549. ‘"Certaine Psalmes chosen out of the Psalmes of David commonly called vij penytentiall Psalmes, drawen into Englishe meter by sir Thomas Wyat knyght, whereunto is added a prolog of the aucthore before every Psalme very pleasant and profettable to the godly reader. Imprinted at London in Paules Churchyarde at the sygne of the starre by Thomas Raynald and John Harryngton, cum previlegio ad imprimendum solum, MDXLIX."’ Leland seems to speak of the larger version.

Transtulit in nostram Davidis carmina linguam,
Et numeros magna reddidit arte pares.
Non morietur OPUS tersum, SPECTABILE, sacrum x.

But this version, with that of Surrey mentioned above, is now lost y: and the pious Thomas Sternhold and John Hopkins are the only immortal translators of David's Psalms.

A similarity, or rather sameness of studies, as it is a proof, so perhaps it was the chief cement, of that inviolable friend­ship which is said to have subsisted between Wyat and Surrey. The principal subject of their poetry was the same: and they both treated the passion of love in the spirit of the Italian poets, [Page 40] and as professed disciples of Petrarch. They were alike devoted to the melioration of their native tongue, and an attainment of the elegancies of composition. They were both engaged in tran­slating Virgil, and in rendering select portions of Scripture into English metre.

SECT. XXI.

TO the poems of Surrey and Wyat are annexed, as I have before hinted, in Tottell's editions, those of uncertain authors a. This latter collection forms the first printed poetical miscellany in the English language: although very early manu­script miscellanies of that kind are not uncommon. Many of these pieces are much in the manner of Surrey and Wyat, which was the fashion of the times. They are all anonymous; but probably, sir Francis Bryan, George Boleyn earl of Roch­ford, and lord Vaulx, all professed rhymers and sonnet-writers, were large contributors.

Drayton, in his elegy To his dearly loved friend HENRY REY­NOLDS OF POETS AND POESIE, seems to have blended all the several collections of which Tottell's volume consists. After Chaucer he says,

They with the Muses who conversed, were
That princely Surrey, early in the time
Of the eighth Henry, who was then the prime
Of England's noble youth. With him there came
Wyat, with reverence whom we still do name
Amongst our poets: Bryan had a share
With the two former, which accounted are
That time's best Makers, and the authors were
Of those small poems which the title bear
Of Songes and Sonnetts, wherein oft they hit
On many dainty passages of wit b.

[Page 42] Sir Francis Bryan was the friend of Wyat, as we have seen; and served as a commander under Thomas earl of Surrey in an expedition into Brittany, by whom he was knighted for his bravery c. Hence he probably became connected with lord Surrey the poet. But Bryan was one of the brilliant ornaments of the court of king Henry the eighth, which at least affected to be polite: and from his popular accomplishments as a wit and a poet, he was made a gentleman of the privy-chamber to that monarch, who loved to be entertained by his domestics d. Yet he enjoyed much more important appointments in that reign, and in the first year of Edward the sixth; and died chief justiciary of Ireland, at Waterford, in the year 1548 e. On the principle of an unbiassed attachment to the king, he wrote epistles on Henry's divorce, never published; and translated into English from the French, Antonio de Guevara's Spanish Disser­tation on the life of a courtier, printed at London in the year last mentioned f. He was nephew to John Bourchier, lord Berners, the translator of Froissart; who, at his desire, tran­slated at Calais from French into English, the GOLDEN BOKE, or Life of Marcus Aurelius, about 1533 g. Which are Bryan's pieces I cannot ascertain.

George Boleyn, viscount Rochford, was son of sir Thomas Boleyn, afterwards earl of Wiltshire and Ormond; and at Ox­ford discovered an early propensity to polite letters and poetry. He was appointed to several dignities and offices by king Henry the eighth, and subscribed the famous declaration sent to Pope Clement the seventh. He was brother to queen Anne Boleyn, with whom he was suspected of a criminal familiarity. The chief accusation against him seems to have been, that he was seen to whisper with the queen one morning while she was in [Page 43] bed. As he had been raised by the exaltation, he was involved in the misfortunes of that injured princess, who had no other fault but an un [...]uarded and indiscrete frankness of nature; and whose character has been blackened by the bigotted historians of the catholic cause, merely because she was the mother of queen Elisabeth. To gratify the ostensible jealousy of the king, who had conceived a violent passion for a new object, this amiable nobleman was beheaded on the first of May, in 1536 h. His elegance of person, and spritely conversation, captivated all the ladies of Henry's court. Wood says, that at the ‘"royal court he was much adored, especially by the female sex, for his admirable discourse, and symmetry of body i."’ From these irresistible allurements his enemies endeavoured to give a plausi­bility to their infamous charge of an incestuous connection. After his commitment to the Tower, his sister the queen, on being sent to the same place, asked the lieutenant, with a degree of eagerness, ‘"Oh! where is my sweet brother k?"’ Here was a specious confirmation of his imagined guilt: this stroke of natural tenderness was too readily interpreted into a licentious attachment. Bale mentions his RHYTHMI ELEGANTISSIMI l, which Wood calls, ‘"Songs and Sonnets, with other things of the like nature m."’ These are now lost, unless some, as I have insinuated, are contained in the present collection; a gar­land, in which it appears to have been the fashion for every FLOWERY COURTIER to leave some of his blossoms. But Boleyn's poems cannot now be distinguished.

The lord Vaulx, whom I have supposed, and on surer proof, to be another contributor to this miscellany, could not be the Nicholas lord Vaux, whose gown of purple velvet, plated with gold, eclipsed all the company present at the marriage of prince Arthur; who shines as a statesman and a soldier with uncom­mon lustre in the history of Henry the seventh, and continued [Page 44] to adorn the earlier annals of his successor, and who died in the year 1523. Lord Vaux the poet, was probably Thomas lord Vaux, the son of Nicholas, and who was summoned to parlia­ment in 1531, and seems to have lived till the latter end of the reign of queen Mary n. All our old writers mention the poetical lord Vaux, as rather posterior to Wyat and Surrey; neither of whom was known as a writer till many years after the death of lord Nicholas. George Gascoyne, who wrote in 1575, in his panegyric on the ENGLISH POETS, places Vaux after Surrey.

Piers Plowman was full playne,
And Chaucer's spreet was greate;
Earle Surrey had a goodly vayne,
LORD VAUX the marke did beate.

Puttenham, author of the ARTE OF ENGLISH POESIE, having spoken of Surrey and Wyat, immediately adds, ‘"In the SAME TIME, or NOT LONG AFTER, was the lord Nicholaso Vaux, a man of much facilitie in vulgar making p."’ Webbe, in his DISCOURSE OF ENGLISH POETRIE, published in 1586, has a similar arrangement. Great numbers of Vaux's poems are ex­tant in the PARADISE OF DAINTY DEVISES; and, instead of the rudeness of Skelton, they have a smoothness and facility of manner, which does not belong to poetry written before the year 1523, in which lord Nicholas Vaux died an old man q. The PARADISE OF DAINTY DEVISES was published in 1578, and he is there simply styled Lord Vaulx the elder: this was to distinguish him from his son lord William, then living. If lord Nicholas was a writer of poetry, I will venture to assert, that none of his performances now remain; notwithstanding the [Page 45] testimony of Wood, who says, that Nicholas, ‘"in his juvenile years was sent to Oxon, where by reading humane and ro­mantic, rather than philosophical authors, he advanced his genius very much in poetry and history r."’ This may be true of his son Thomas, whom I suppose to be the poet. But such was the celebrity of lord Nicholas's public and political character, that he has been made to monopolise every merit which was the property of his successors. All these difficulties, how­ever, are at once adjusted by a manuscript in the British Museum: in which we have a copy of Vaux's poem, beginning I lothe that I did love, with this title: ‘"A dyttye or sonet made by the lord Vaus, in the time of the noble quene Marye, representing the image of Death s."’ This sonnet, or rather ode, entitled, The aged lover renounceth love, which was more remembered for its morality than its poetry, and which is idly conjectured to have been written on his death-bed t, makes a part of the col­lection which I am now examining u. From this ditty are taken three of the stanzas, yet greatly disguised and corrupted, of the Grave-digger's Song in Shakespeare's HAMLET w. Another of lord Vaux's poems in the volume before us, is the ASSAULT OF CUPIDE UPON THE FORT IN WHICH THE LOVER'S HEART LAY WOUNDED x. These two are the only pieces in our col­lection, of which there is undoubted evidence, although no name is prefixed to either, that they were written by lord Vaux. From palpable coincidencies of style, subject, and other circum­stances, a slender share of critical sagacity is sufficient to point out many others.

These three writers were cotemporaries with Surrey and Wyat: but the subjects of some of the pieces will go far in ascertaining the date of the collection in general. There is one on the death [Page 46] of sir Thomas Wyat the elder, who died, as I have remarked, in 1541 y. Another on the death of lord chancellor Audley, who died in 1544 z. Another on the death of master Devereux, a son of lord Ferrers, who is said to have been a Cato for his counsel a; and who is probably Richard Devereux, buried in Berkyng church b, the son of Walter lord Ferrers, a distinguished statesman and general under Henry the eighth c. Another on the death of a lady Wentworth d. Another on the death of [...]r Antony Denny, the only person of the court who dared to in­form king Henry the eighth of his approaching dissolution, and who died in 1551 e. Another on the death of Phillips, an emi­nent musician, and without his rival on the lute f. Another on the death of a countess of Pembroke, who is celebrated for her learning, and her perfect virtues linked in a chaine g: probably Anne, who was buried magnificently at saint Pauls, in 1551, the first lady of sir William Herbert the first earl of Pembroke, and sister to Catharine Parr, the sixth queen of Henry the eighth h. Another on master Henry Williams, son of sir John Williams, afterwards lord Thame, and a great favorite of Henry the eighth i. On the death of sir James Wilford, an officer in [Page 47] Henry's wars, we have here an elegy k, with some verses on his picture l. Here is also a poem on a treasonable conspiracy, which is compared to the stratagem of Sinon, and which threatened immediate extermination to the British constitution, but was speedily discovered m. I have not the courage to explore the for­midable columns of the circumstantial Hollingshed for this occult piece of history, which I leave to the curiosity and conjectures of some more laborious investigator. It is certain that none of these pieces are later than the year 1557, as they were published in that year by Richard Tottell the printer. We may venture to say, that almost all of them were written between the years 1530 and 1550 n. Most of them perhaps within the first part of that period.

The following nameless stanzas have that elegance which results from simplicity. The compliments are such as would not disgrace the gallantry or the poetry of a polished age. The thoughts support themselves, without the aid of expression, and the affectations of language. This is a negligence, but it is a negligence produced by art. Here is an effect obtained, which it would be vain to seek from the studied ornaments of style.

Give place, ye ladies, and be gone,
Boast not yourselves at all:
For here at hand approcheth one
Whose face will staine you all.
The vertue of her lively lokes
Excels the precious stone:
I wish to have none other bokes
To reade or loke upon.
In eche of her two cris [...]all eyes
Smileth a naked boye:
It would you all in hart suffice
To se that lampe of joye.
I thinke Nature hath lost the moulde o
Where she her shape did take;
Or els I doubt if Nature coulde
So faire a creature make.—
In life she is Diana chaste,
In truth Penelopey;
In worde and eke in dede stedfast.
What would you more we sey?
If all the worlde were sought so farre,
Who could finde such a wight?
Her beuty twinkleth like a starre
Within the frosty night.
Her rosial colour comes and goes
With such a comly grace,
(More ruddy too than is the rose)
Within her lively face.
At Bacchus feaste none shall her mete,
Ne at no wanton play,
Nor gasing in an open strete,
Nor gadding as astray.
The modest mirth that she doth use
Is mixt with shamefa [...]tnesse;
Al vice she doth wholy refuse,
And hateth ydlenesse.
O lord, it is a world to see
How vertue can repaire
And decke in her such honestie,
Whom nature made so faire!—
Howe might I do to get a graffe
Of this unspotted tree?
[Page 49] For all the rest are plaine but chaffe [...]
Which seme good corn to be p.—

Of the same sort is the following stanza on Beauty.

Then BEAUTY stept before the barre,
Whose breast and neck was bare;
With haire trust up, and on her head
A caule of golde she ware q.

We are to recollect, that these compliments were penned at a time, when the graces of conversation between the sexes were unknown, and the dialogue of courtship was indelicate; when the monarch of England, in a style, which the meanest gen­tleman would now be ashamed to use, pleaded the warmth of his affection, by drawing a coarse allusion from a present of venison, which he calls flesh, in a love-letter to his future queen, Anne Boleyn, a lady of distinguished breeding, beauty, and modesty r.

In lord Vaux's ASSAULT OF CUPIDE, abovementioned, these are the most remarkable stanzas.

When Cupide scaled first the fort,
Wherin my hart lay wounded sore;
The batry was of such a sort,
That I must yelde, or die therfore.
There sawe I Love upon the wall
How he his baner did display;
Alarme, Alarme, he gan to call,
And bade his souldiours kepe away.
The armes the which that Cupid bare,
Were pearced hartes, with teares besprent.—
And even with the trumpettes sowne
The scaling ladders were up set;
And BEAUTY walked up and downe,
With bow in hand, and arrowes whet.
Then first DESIRE began to scale,
And shrouded him under his targe, &c s.

Puttenham speaks more highly of the contrivance of the alle­gory of this piece, than I can allow. ‘"In this figure [counter­fait action] the lord Nicholast Vaux, a noble gentleman, and much delighted in vulgar making u, and a man otherwi [...]e of no great learning, but having herein a marvelous facilitie, made a dittie representing the Battayle and Assault of Cupid so excellently well, as for the gallant and propre aplication of his fiction in every part, I cannot choose but set downe the greatest part of his ditty, for in truth it cannot be amended: When Cupid scaled, &c w."’ And in another part of the [...]ame book. ‘"The lord Vaux his commendation lyeth chiefly in the facilitie of his meetre, and the aptnesse of his descriptions, suche as he taketh upon him to make, namely in sundry of his songes, wherein he sheweth the COUNTERFAIT ACTION very lively and pleasantly x."’ By counterfait action the critic means fictitious action, the action of imaginary beings expres­sive of fact and reality. There is more poetry in some of the old pageants described by Hollingshed, than in this allegory of Cupid. Vaux seems to have had his eye on Sir David Lyndsey's GOLDEN TERGE y.

In the following little ode, much pretty description and imagination is built on the circumstance of a lady being named Bayes. So much good poetry could hardly be expected from a pun.

In Bayes I boast, whose braunch I beare:
Such joye therein I finde,
That to the death I shall it weare,
To ease my carefull minde.
In heat, in cold, both night and day,
Her vertue may be sene;
When other frutes and flowers decay,
The Bay yet growes full greene.
Her berries feede the birdes ful oft,
Her leaves swete water make;
Her bowes be set in every loft,
For their swete savour's sake.
The birdes do shrowd them from the cold
In her we dayly see:
And men make arbers as they wold,
Under the pleasant tree z.—

From the same collection, the following is perhaps the first example in our language now remaining, of the pure and un­mixed pastoral: and in the erotic species, for ease of numbers, elegance of rural allusion, and simplicity of imagery, excels every thing of the kind in Spenser, who is erroneously ranked as our earliest English bucolic. I therefore hope to be pardoned for the length of the quotation.

Phyllida was a faire mayde,
As fresh as any flour;
Whom Harpalus the herdman prayde
To be her paramour.
Harpalus and eke Corin
Were herdmen both yfere a:
And Phyllida could twist and spin,
And thereto sing full clere.
But Phyllida was all to coy
For Harpalus to winne;
For Corin was her only joy
Who forst her not a pinne b.
How often would she flowers twine?
How often garlandes make
Of couslips and of columbine?
And al for Corin's sake.
But Corin he had hawkes to lure,
And forced more the fielde c;
Of lovers lawe he toke no cure,
For once he was begilde d.
Harpalus prevailed nought,
His labour all was lost;
For he was fardest from her thought,
And yet he loved her most.
Therefore waxt he both pale and leane,
And drye as clote of clay;
His fleshe it was consumed cleane,
His colour gone away.
His beard it had not long be shave,
His heare hong all unkempt f;
A man fit even for the grave,
Whom spitefull love had spent.
His eyes were red, and all forewatched g,
His face besprent with teares;
It semde Vnhap had him long hatched
In mids of his dispaires.
His clothes were blacke and also bare,
As one forlorne was he:
Upon his head alwayes he ware
A wreath of wyllow tree.
His beastes he kept upon the hyll
And he sate in the dale;
And thus with sighes and sorowes shryll
He gan to tell his tale.
"O Harpalus, thus would he say,
"Unhappiest under sunne!
"The cause of thine unhappy day
"By love was first begunne!
"For thou wentst first by sute to seke
"A tigre to make tame,
"That settes not by thy love a leeke,
"But makes thy grief her game.
"As easy it were to convert
"The frost into the flame,
"As for to turne a froward hert
"Whom thou so faine wouldst frame.
"Corin he liveth carèlesse,
"He leapes among the leaves;
"He eates the frutes of thy redresse h,
"Thou reapes, he takes the sheaves.
"My beastes, awhile your foode refraine,
"And hark your herdsmans sounde;
"Whom spitefull love, alas, hath slaine
"Through-girt i with many a wounde!
"O happy be ye, beastes wilde,
"That here your pasture takes!
"I se that ye be not begilde
"Of these your faithfull makes k.
"The hart he fedeth by the hinde,
"The buck hard by the do:
"The turtle dove is not unkinde
"To him that loves her so.—
"But, welaway, that nature wrought,
"Thee, Phyllida, so faire;
"For I may say, that I have bought
"Thy beauty all too deare! &c l."

The illustrations in the two following stanzas, of the restless­ness of a lover's mind, deserve to be cited for their simple beauty, and native force of expression.

The owle with feble sight
Lyes lurking in the leaves;
The sparrow in the frosty night,
May shroud her in the eaves.
But wo to me, alace!
In sunne, nor yet in shade,
I cannot finde a resting place
My burden to unlade m.

Nor can I omit to notice the sentimental and expressive metaphor contained in a single line.

Walking the path of pensive thought n.

Perhaps there is more pathos and feeling in the Ode, in which The Lover in despaire lamenteth his Case, than in any other piece of the whole collection.

Adieu desert, how art thou spent!
Ah dropping tears, how do ye waste!
Ah scalding sighes, how ye be spent,
To pricke Them forth that will not haste!
Ah! pained hart, thou gapst for grace o,
Even there, where pitie hath no place.
As easy tis the stony rocke
From place to place for to remove,
As by thy plaint for to provoke
A frosen hart from hate to love.
What should I say? Such is thy lot
To fawne on them that forcep thee not!
Thus mayst thou safely say and sweare,
That rigour raignes where ruthq doth faile,
In thanklesse thoughts thy thoughts do weare:
Thy truth, thy faith, may nought availe
For thy good will: why shouldst thou so
Still graft, where grace it will not grow?
Alas! poore hart, thus hast thou spent
Thy flowring time, thy pleasant yeres?
With sighing voice wepe and lament,
For of thy hope no frute apperes!
Thy true meaning is paide with scorne,
That ever soweth and repeth no corne.
And where thou sekes a quiet port,
Thou dost but weigh against the winde:
For where thou gladdest woldst resort,
There is no place for thee assinde r.
Thy destiny hath set it so,
That thy true hart should cause thy wo s.

These reflections, resulting from a retrospect of the vigorous and active part of life, destined for nobler pursuits, and unworthily wasted in the tedious and fruitless anxieties of unsuccessful love, are highly natural, and are painted from the heart: but their force is weakened by the poet's allusions.

T [...]is miscellany affords the first pointed English epigram that I remember; and which deserves to be admitted into the modern collections of that popular species of poetry. Sir Thomas More [Page 56] was one of the best jokers of that age: and there is some pro­bability, that this might have fallen from his pen. It is on a scholar, who was pursuing his studies successfully, but in the midst of his literary career, married unfortunately.

A student, at his boke so plast t,
That welth he might have wonne,
From boke to wife did flete in hast,
From welth to wo to run.
Now, who hath plaid a feater cast,
Since jugling first begonne?
In knitting of himself so fast,
Himself he hath undonne u.

But the humour does not arise from the circumstances of the character. It is a general joke on an unhappy match.

These two lines are said to have been written by Mary queen of Scots with a diamond on a window in Fotheringay castle, during her imprisonment there, and to have been of her com­position.

From the toppe of all my trust
Mishap hath throwen me in the dust w.

But they belong to an elegant little ode of ten stanzas in the col­lection before us, in which a lover complains that he is caught by the snare which he once defied x. The unfortunate queen only quoted a distich applicable to her situation, which she re­membered in a fashionable sett of poems, perhaps the amusement of her youth.

The ode, which is the comparison of the author's faithful and painful passion with that of Troilus y, is founded on Chaucer's [Page 57] poem, or Boccace's, on the same subject. This was the most favorite love-story of our old poetry, and from its popularity was wrought into a drama by Shakespeare. Troilus's sufferings for Cressida were a common topic for a lover's fidelity and assi­duity. Shakespeare, in his MERCHANT OF VENICE, compares a night favorable to the stratagems or the meditation of a lover, to such a night as Troilus might have chosen, for stealing a view of the Grecian camp from the ramparts of Troy.

And sigh'd his soul towards the Grecian tents
Where Cressid lay that night z.—

Among these poems is a short fragment of a translation into Alexandrines of Ovid's epistle from Penelope to Ulysses a. This is the first attempt at a metrical translation of any part of Ovid into English, for Caxton's Ovid is a loose paraphrase in prose. Nor were the heroic epistles of Ovid translated into verse till the year 1582, by George Tuberville. It is a proof that the classics were studied, when they began to be translated.

It would be tedious and intricate to trace the particular imita­tions of the Italian poets, with which these anonymous poems abound. Two of the sonnetsb are panegyrics on Petrarch and Laura, names at that time familiar to every polite reader, and the patterns of poetry and beauty. The sonnet on The diverse and contrarie passions of the lover c, is formed on one of Petrarch's sonnets, and which, as I have remarked before, was translated by sir Thomas Wyat d. So many of the nobility, and principal persons about the court, writing sonnets in the Italian style, is a circumstance which must have greatly contributed to circulate this mode of composition, and to encourage the study of the Italian poets. Beside lord Surrey, sir Thomas Wyat, lord Bo­leyn, lord Vaux, and sir Francis Bryan, already mentioned, Ed [...]und [Page 58] lord Sheffield, created a baron by king Edward the sixth, and killed by a butcher in the Norfolk insurrection, is said by Bale to have written sonnets in the Italian manner e.

I have been informed, that Henry lord Berners translated some of Petrarch's sonnets f. But this nobleman otherwise de­served notice here, for his prose works, which co-operated with the romantic genius and the gallantry of the age. He translated, and by the king's command, Froissart's chronicle, which was printed by Pinson in 1523. Some of his other tran­slations are professed romances. He translated from the Spanish, by desire of the lady of sir Nicholas Carew, THE CASTLE OF LOVE. From the French he translated, at the request of the earl of Huntingdon, SIR HUGH OF BOURDEAUX, which be­came exceedingly popular. And from the same language, THE HISTORY OF ARTHUR an Armorican knight. Bale says g, that he wrote a comedy called Ite in vineam, or the PARABLE OF THE VINEYARD, which was frequently acted at Calais, where lord Berners resided, after vespers h. He died in 1532.

I have also been told, that the late lord Eglintoun had a genuine book of manuscript sonnets, written by king Henry the eighth. There is an old madrigal, set to music by William Bird, supposed to be written by Henry, when he first fell in love with Anne Boleyn i. It begins,

The eagles force subdues eche byrde that flyes,
What metal can resyste the flamyng fyre?
Doth not the sunne dazle the cleareste eyes,
And melt the yce, and makethe froste retyre?

[Page 59] It appears in Bird's PSALMES, SONGS, AND SONNETS, printed with musical notes, in 1611 k. Poetry and music are congenial; and it is certain, that Henry was skilled in musical composition. Erasmus attests, that he composed some church services l: and one of his anthems still continues to be performed in the choir of Christ-church at Oxford, of his foundation. It is in an ad­mirable style, and is for four voices. Henry, although a scho­lar, had little taste for the classical elegancies which now began to be known in England. His education seems to have been altogether theological: and, whether it best suited his taste or his interest, polemical divinity seems to have been his favorite science. He was a patron of learned men, when they humoured his vanities; and were wise enough, not to interrupt his plea­sures, his convenience, or his ambition.

SECT. XXII.

TO these SONGES and SONNETTES of UNCERTAIN AUC­TOURS, in Tottell's edition are annexed SONGES WRITTEN BY N. G.a By the initials N. G. we are to understand Nicholas Grimoald, a name which never appeared yet in the poetical bio­graphy of England. But I have before mentioned him inciden­tally b. He was a native of Huntingdonshire, and received the first part of his academical institution at Christ's college in Cam­bridge. Removing to Oxford in the year 1542, he was elected fellow of Merton College: but, about 1547, having opened a rhetorical lecture in the refectory of Christ-church, then newly founded, he was transplanted to that society, which gave the greatest encouragement to such students as were distinguished for their proficiency in criticism and philology. The same year, he wrote a Latin tragedy, which probably was acted in the college, entitled, ARCHIPROPHETA, [...]ive JOHANNES BAPTISTA, TRA­GAEDIA, That is, The Arch-prophet, or Saint John Baptist, a tragedy, and dedicated to the dean Richard Cox c. In the year 1548 d, he explained all the four books of Virgil's Georgics in a regular prose Latin paraphrase, in the public hall of his college e. He wrote also explanatory commentaries or lectures on the An­dria of Terence, the Epistles of Horace, and many pieces of Cicero, perhaps for the same auditory. He translated Tully's Offices into English. This translation, which is dedicated to the learned Thirlby bishop of Ely, was printed at London, [Page 61] 1553 f. He also familiarised some of the purest Greek classics by English versions, which I believe were never printed. Among others was the CYROPAEDIA. Bale the biographer and bishop of Ossory, says, that he turned Chaucer's TROILUS into a play: but whether this piece was in Latin or English, we are still to seek: and the word Comedia, which Bale uses on this occasion, is without precision or distinction. The same may be said of what Bale calls his FAME, a comedy. Bale also recites his System of Rhetoric for the use of Englishmen g, which seems to be the course of the rhetorical lectures I have mentioned. It is to be wished, that Bale, who appears to have been his friend h, and therefore possessed the opportunities of information, had given us a more exact and full detail, at least of such of Grimoald's works as are now lost, or, if remaining, are unprinted i. Un­doubtedly this is the same person, called by Strype one Grimbold, who was chaplain to bishop Ridley, and who was employed by that prelate, while in prison, to translate into English, Laurentio Valla's book against the fiction of Constantine's DONATION, with some other popular Latin pieces against the papists k. In the ecclesiastical history of Mary's reign, he appears to have been imprisoned for heresy, and to have saved his life, if not his cre­dit, by a recantation. But theology does not seem to have been his talent, nor the glories of martyrdom to have made any part of his ambition. One of his plans, but which never took effect, was to print a new edition of Josephus Iscanus's poem on the TROJAN WAR, with emendations from the most correct manu­scripts l.

I have taken more pains to introduce this Nicholas Grimoald to the reader's acquaintance, because he is the second English poet after lord Surrey, who wrote in blank-verse. Nor is it his [Page 62] only praise, that he was the first who followed in this new path of versification. To the style of blank-verse exhibited by Surrey, he added new strength, elegance, and modulation. In the dis­position and conduct of his cadencies, he often approaches to the legitimate structure of the improved blank-verse: but we cannot suppose, that he is entirely free from those dissonancies and asp [...] ­rities, which still adhered to the general character and state of our diction.

In his poem on the DEATH OF MARCUS TULLIUS CICERO are these lines. The assassins of Cicero are said to relent,

—When
They his bare neck behelde, and his hore heares,
Scant could they hold the teares that forth gan burst,
And almost fell from bloody handes the swoordes.
Onely the sterne Herennius, with grym looke,
Dastardes, why stande ye still? he saith: and straight
Swapt off the head with his presumptuous yrone.
Ne with the slaughter yet is he not filled:
Fowle shame on shame to hepe, is his delite.
Wherefore the handes also he doth off-smyte,
Which durst Antonius' life so lively paint.
Him, yelding strained ghoste m, from welkin hie
With lothly chere lord Phebus gan beholde;
And in black clowde, they say, long hid his hed.
The Latine Muses, and the Grayes n, they wept,
And for his fall eternally shall wepe.
And lo! hart-persing PITHO o, strange to tell,
Who had suffisde to him both sence and wordes,
When so he spake, and drest with nectar soote
That flowyng toung, when his windpipe disclosde,
Fled with her fleeing friend p; and, out, alas!
Hath left the earth, ne will no more returne.

[Page 63] Nor is this passage unsupported by a warmth of imagination, and the spirit of pathetic poetry. The general cast of the whole poem shews, that our author was not ill qualified for dramatic composition.

Another of Grimoald's blank-verse poems, is on the death of Zoroas an Egyptian astronomer, who was killed in Alexan­der's first battle with the Persians. It is opened with this nervous and animated exordium.

Now clattering armes, now ragyng broyls of warre,
Gan passe the noyes of dredfull trompets clang q;
Shrowded with shafts the heaven, with clowd of darts
Covered the ayre. Against full-fatted bulls
As forceth kindled yre the lyons keene,
Whose greedy gutts the gnawing honger pricks,
So Macedonians 'gainst the Persians fare r.

In the midst of the tumult and hurry of the battle, appears the sage philosopher Zoroas: a classical and elegant description of whose skill in natural science, forms a pleasing contrast amidst images of death and destruction; and is inserted with great propriety, as it is necessary to introduce the history of his catastrophe.

Shakyng her bloody hands Bellone, among
The Perses, sowth all kynde of cruel deth.—
Him smites the club; him wounds far-strikyng bow;
And him the slyng, and him the shining swoord.—
Right over stood, in snow-white armour brave s,
The Memphite Zoroas, a cunning clarke,
To whom the heaven lay open as his boke:
[Page 64] And in celestiall bodies he could tell
The moving, meting, light, aspect, eclips,
And influence, and constellacions all.
What earthly chances would betide: what yere
Of plentyt stord: what signe forwarned derth:
How winter gendreth snow: what temperature
In the prime tideu doth season well the soyl.
Why sommer burnes: why autumne hath ripe grapes:
Whether the circle quadrate may become:
Whether our tunes heavens harmony can yeld w:—
What star doth letx the hurtfull sirey to rage,
Or him more milde what opposition makes:
What fire doth qualify Mavorsesz fire, &c a.

Our astronomer, finding by the stars that he is destined to die speedily, chuses to be killed by the hand of Alexander, whom he endeavours to irritate to an attack, first by throwing darts, and then by reproachful speeches.

—Shameful stain
Of mothers bed! Why lo [...]est thou thy strokes
Cowards among? Turne thee to me, in case
Manhode there be so much left in thy hart:
Come, fight with me, that on my helmet weare
Apolloes laurel, both for learnings laude,
And eke for martial praise: that in my shielde
The sevenfold sophie of Minerve contain.
A match more mete, sir king, than any here.

Alexander is for a while unwilling to revenge this insult on a man eminent for wisdom.

The noble prince amoved takes ruthe upon
The wilful wight; and with soft wordes, ayen:
O monstrous man, quoth he, What so thou art!
I pray thee live, ne do not with thy death
This lodge of lore b, the Muses mansion mar,
That treasure-house this hand shall never spoyl.
My sword shall never bruse that skilfull braine,
Long-gathered heapes of Science sone to spill.
O how faire frutes may you to mortal man
From WISDOM'S garden give! How many may,
By you, the wiser and the better prove!
What error, what mad moode, what frensy, thee
Perswades, to be downe sent to depe Averne,
Where no arts florish, nor no knowledge 'vails
For all these sawes c? When thus the soveraign sayd,
Alighted Zoroas, &c d.—

I have a suspicion, that these two pieces in blank-verse, if not fragments of larger works, were finished in their present state, as prolusions, or illustrative practical specimens, for our author's course of lectures in rhetoric. In that case, they were written so early as the year 1547. There is positive proof, that they appeared not later than 1557, when they were first printed by Tottell.

I have already mentioned lord Surrey's Virgil: and for the sake of juxtaposition, will here produce a third specimen of early blank-verse, little known. In the year 1590, William Vallans published a blank-verse poem, entitled, A TALE OF TWO SWANNES, which, under a poetic fiction, describes the situation and antiquities of several towns in Hertfordshire. The author, a native or inhabitant of Hertfordshire, seems to have been connected [Page 66] with Camden and other ingenious antiquaries of his age. I cite the exordium.

When Nature, nurse of every living thing,
Had clad her charge in brave and new array;
The hils rejoist to see themselves so fine:
The fields and woods grew proud thereof also:
The meadowes with their partie-colour'd coates,
Like to the rainebow in the azurd skie,
Gave just occasion to the cheerfull birdes
With sweetest note to singe their nurse's praise.
Among the which, the merrie nightingale
With swete and swete, her breast against a thorne,
Ringes out all night, &c e.

Vallans is probably the author of a piece much better known, a history, by many held to be a romance, but which proves the writer a diligent searcher into antient records, entitled, ‘"The HONOURABLE PRENTICE, Shewed in the Life and Death of Sir JOHN HAWKEWOOD sometime Prentice of London, interlaced with the famous History of the noble FITZ­WALTER Lord of Woodham in Essex f, and ofthe poisoning of his faire daughter. Also of the merry Customes of DUN­MOWE, &c. Whereunto is annexed the most lamentable murther of Robert Hall at the High Altar in Westminster Abbey g."’

The reader will observe, that what has been here said about early specimens of blank-verse, is to be restrained to poems not [Page 67] written for the stage. Long before Vallans's TWO SWANNES, many theatrical pieces in blank-verse had appeared; the first of which is, The TRAGEDY OF GORDOBUCKE, written in 1561. The second is George Gascoigne's JOCASTA, a tragedy, acted at Grays-inn, in 1566. George Peele had also published his tragedy in blank-verse of DAVID and BETHSABE, about the year 1579 h. HIERONYMO, a tragedy also without rhyme, was acted before 1590. But this point, which is here only tran­siently mentioned, will be more fully considered hereafter, in its proper place. We will now return to our author Grimoald.

Grimoald, as a writer of verses in rhyme, yields to none of his cotemporaries, for a masterly choice of chaste expression, and the concise elegancies of didactic versification. Some of the couplets, in his poem IN PRAISE OF MODERATION, have all the smartness which marks the modern style of sententious poetry, and would have done honour to Pope's ethic epistles.

The auncient Time commended not for nought
The Mean. What better thing can there be sought?
In meane is virtue placed: on either side,
Both right and left, amisse a man may slide.
Icar, with sirei hadst thou the midway flown,
Icarian beakk by name no man known.
If middle path kept had proud Phaeton,
No burning brande this earth had falne upon.
Ne cruel power, ne none too soft can raign:
That kepesl a meane, the same shal stil remain.
Thee, Julie m, once did too much mercy spill:
Thee, Nero sterne, rigor extreme did kill.
How could Augustn so many yeres wel passe?
Nor overmeke, nor overfierce, he was.
[Page 68] Worship not Jove with curious fancies vain,
Nor him despise: hold right atween these twain.
No wastefull wight, no greedy groom is praizd:
Stands Largesse just in equal ballance paizd o.
So Catoes meat surmountes Antonius chere,
And better fame his sober fare hath here.
Too slender building bad, as bad too grosse p;
One an eye sore, the other falls to losse.
As medcines help in measure, so, god wot,
By overmuch the sick their bane have got.
Unmete, mesemes, to utter this mo waies;
Measure forbids unmeasurable praise q.

The maxim is enforced with great quickness and variety of illustration: nor is the collision of opposite thoughts, which the subject so naturally affords, extravagantly pursued, or indulged beyond the bounds of good sense and propriety. The following stanzas on the NINE MUSES are more poetical, and not less correct r.

Impss of king JOVE and queen REMEMBRANCE, lo,
The sisters nyne, the poets pleasant feres t,
Calliope doth stately stile below,
And worthy praises paintes of princely peres.
Clion in solem songes reneweth all day,
With present yeres conjoining age bypast.
Delighteful talke loues comicall Thaley;
In fresh grene youth who doth like lawrell last.
With voyces tragicall soundes Melpomen,
And, as with cheins, thallured eare she bindes.
Her stringes when Terpsechor doth touche, euen then
She toucheth hartes, and raigneth in mens mindes.
Fine Erato, whose looke a liuely chere
Presents, in dauncing keepes a comely grace.
With semely gesture doth Polymnie stere,
Whose wordes whole routes of rankes do rule in place.
Uranie, her globes to view all bent,
The ninefold heauen obserues with fixed face.
The blastes Euterpe tunes of instrument,
With solace sweete, hence heauie dumps to chase.
Lord Phebus in the mids, (whose heauenly sprite
These ladies doth inspire) embraceth all.
The Graces in the Muses weed, delite
To lead them forth, that men in maze they fall.

It would be unpardonable to dismiss this valuable miscellany, without acknowledging our obligations to its original editor Richard Tottell: who deserves highly of English literature, for having collected at a critical period, and preserved in a printed volume, so many admirable specimens of antient genius, which would have mouldered in manuscript, or perhaps from their detached and fugitive state of existence, their want of length, the capriciousness of taste, the general depredations of time, in­attention, and other accidents, would never have reached the present age. It seems to have given birth to two favorite and celebrated collections of the same kind, THE PARADISE OF DAINTY DEVISES, and ENGLAND'S HELICON, which ap­peared in the reign of queen Elisabeth . 252.

SECT. XXIII.

IT will not be supposed, that all the poets of the reign of Henry the eighth were educated in the school of Petrarch. The graces of the Italian muse, which had been taught by Surrey and Wyat, were confined to a few. Nor were the beau­ties of the classics yet become general objects of imitation. There are many writers of this period who still rhymed on, in the old prosaic track of their immediate predecessors, and never ventured to deviate into the modern improvements. The strain of romantic fiction was lost; in the place of which, they did not substitute the elegancies newly introduced.

I shall consider together, yet without an exact observation of chronological order, the poets of the reign of Henry the eighth who form this subordinate class, and who do not bear any mark of the character of the poetry which distinguishes this period. Yet some of these have their degree of merit; and, if they had not necessarily claimed a place in our series, deserve examination.

Andrew Borde, who writes himself ANDREAS PERFORATUS, with about as much propriety and as little pedantry as Bucha­nan calls one Wisehart SOPHOCARDIUS, was educated at Win­chester and Oxford a; and is said, I believe on very slender proof, to have been physician to king Henry the eighth. His BRE­VIARY OF HEALTH, first printed in 1547 b, is dedicated to the [Page 71] college of physicians, into which he had been incorporated. The first book of this treatise is said to have been examined and approved by the University of Oxford in 1546 c. He chiefly practiced in Hampshire; and being popishly affected, was cen­sured by Poynet, a Calvinistic bishop of Winchester, for keep­ing three prostitutes in his house, which he proved to be his pa­tients d. He appears to have been a man of great superstition, and of a weak and whimsical head: and having been once a Carthusian, continued ever afterwards to profess celibacy, to drink water, and to wear a shirt of hair. His thirst of know­ledge, dislike of the reformation, or rather his unsettled dispo­sition, led him abroad into various parts of Europe, which he visited in the medical character. Wood says, that he was ‘"esteemed a noted poet, a witty and ingenious person, and an excellent physician."’ Hearne, who has plainly discovered the origin of Tom Thumb, is of opinion, that this facetious prac­titioner in physic gave rise to the name of MERRY ANDREW, the Fool on the mountebank's stage. The reader will not per­haps be displeased to see that antiquary's reasons for this conjec­ture: which are at the same time a vindication of Borde's cha­racter, afford some new anecdotes of his life, and shew that a Merry Andrew may be a scholar and an ingenious man. ‘"It is observable, that the author [Borde] was as fond of the word DOLENTYD, as of many other hard and uncooth words, as any Quack can be. He begins his BREVIARY OF HEALTH, Egregious doctours and Maysters of the eximious and archane science of Physicke, of your urbanite exasperate not your selve, &c. But notwithstanding this, will any one from hence infer or assert, that the author was either a pedant or a superficial scholar? I think, upon due consideration, he will judge the contrary. Dr. Borde was an ingenious man, and knew how to humour and please his patients, readers, and auditors. In [Page 72] his travells and visits, he often appeared and spoke in public: and would often frequent markets and fairs where a conflux of people used to get together, to whom he prescribed; and to induce them to flock thither the more readily, he would make humorous speeches, couched in such language as caused mirth, and wonderfully propagated his fame: and 'twas for the same end that he made use of such expressions in his Books, as would otherwise (the circumstances not considered) be very justly pronounced bombast. As he was versed in antiquity, he had words at command from old writers with which to amuse his hearers, which could not fail of pleasing, provided he added at the same time some remarkable explication. For in­stance, if he told them that [...] was an old brass medal among the Greeks, the oddness of the word, would, without doubt, gain attention; tho nothing near so much, as if withall he signified, that 'twas a brass medal a little bigger than an Obolus, that used to be put in the mouths of persons that were dead.—And withall, 'twould affect them the more, if when he spoke of such a brass medal, he signified to them, that brass was in old time looked upon as more honourable than other metals, which he might safely enough do, from Homer and his scholiast. Homer's words are &c. A passage, which without doubt HIERONYMUS MAGIUS would have taken notice of in the fourteenth chapter of his Book DE TINTINNABULIS, had it occurred to his memory when in prison he was writing, without the help of books before him, that curious Discourse. 'Twas from the Doctor's method of using such speeches at markets and fairs, that in aftertimes, those that imitated the like humorous, jocose language, were styled MERRY ANDREWS, a term much in vogue on our stages o."’

He is supposed to have compiled or composed the MERRY TALES of the mad men of Gotham, which, as were told by Wood, ‘"in the reign of Henry the eighth, and after, was accounted a book full [Page 73] of wit and mirth by scholars and gentlemen f."’ This piece, which probably was not without its temporary ridicule, and which yet mantains a popularity in the nursery, was, I think, first printed by Wynkyn de Worde. Hearne was of opinion, that these idle pranks of the men of Gotham, a town in Lincolnshire, bore a reference to some customary law-tenures belonging to that place or its neighbourhood, now grown obsolete; and that Blount might have enriched his book on ANTIENT TENURES with these ludicrous stories. He is speaking of the political design of REYNARD THE FOX, printed by Caxto [...]. ‘"It was an admi­rable Thing. And the design, being political, and to represent a wise government, was equally good. So little reason is there to look upon this as a poor despicable book. Nor is there more reason to esteem THE MERRY TALES OF THE MAD MEN OF GOTHAM (which was much valued and cried up in Henry the eighth's time tho now sold at ballad-singers stalls) as alto­gether a romance: a certain skillfull person having told me more than once, that he was assured by one of Gotham, that they formerly held lands there, by such Sports and Customs as are touched upon in this book. For which reason, I think par­ticular notice should have been taken of it in Blount's TE­NURES, as I do not doubt but there would, had that other­wise curious author been apprised of the matter. But 'tis strange to see the changes that have been made in the book of REYNARD THE FOX, from the original editions g!"’

Borde's chief poetical work is entitled, ‘"The first Boke of the INTRODUCTION OF KNOWLEDGE, the which doth teach a man to speake parte of al maner of languages, and to knowe the usage and fashion of al maner of countryes: and for to knowe the most parte of al maner of coynes of money, the [Page 74] whych is currant in every region. Made by Andrew Borde of phisyk doctor."’ It was printed by the Coplands, and is dedicated to the king's daughter the princess Mary. The dedi­cation is dated from Montpelier, in the year 1542. The book, containing thirty-nine chapters, is partly in verse and partly in prose; with wooden cuts prefixed to each chapter. The first is a satire, as it appears, on the fickle nature of an Englishman: the symbolical print prefixed to this chapter, exhibiting a naked man, with a pair of sheers in one hand and a roll of cloth in the other, not determined what sort of a coat he shall order to be made, has more humour, than any of the verses which follow h. Nor is the poetry destitute of humour only; but of every em­bellishment, both of metrical arrangement and of expression. Borde has all the baldness of allusion, and barbarity of versifi­cation, belonging to Skelton, without his strokes of satire and severity. The following lines, part of the Englishman's speech, will not prejudice the reader in his favour.

What do I care, if all the world me faile?
I will have a garment reach to my taile.
Then am I a minion, for I weare the new guise,
The next yeare after I hope to be wise,
Not only in wearing my gorgeous aray,
For I will go to learning a whole summers day.

In the seventh chapter, be gives a fantastic account of his tra­vels i, and owns, that his metre deserves no higher appellation than ryme d [...]grell. But this delineation of the fickle Englishman is perhaps to be restricted to the circumstances of the author's [Page 75] age, without a respect to the national character: and, as Borde was a rigid catholic, there is a probability, notwithstanding in other places he treats o [...] natural dispositions, that a satire is de­signed on the laxity of principle, and revolutions of opinion, which prevailed at the reformation, and the easy compliance of many of his changeable countrymen with a new religion for lucrative purposes.

I transcribe the character of the Welshman, chiefly because he speaks of his harp.

I am a Welshman, and do dwel in Wales,
I have loved to serche budgets, and looke in males:
I love not to labour, to delve, nor to dyg,
My fyngers be lymed lyke a lyme-twyg.
And wherby ryches I do not greatly set,
Syth all hys [is] fysshe that cometh [...]o the net.
I am a gentylman, and come of Brutes blood,
My name is ap Ryce, ap Davy, ap Flood:
I love our Lady, for I am of hyr kynne,
He that doth not love her, I beshrewe his chynne.
My kyndred is ap Hoby, ap Jenkin, ap Goffe.
Bycause I go barelegged, I do catch the coffe.
Bycause I do go barelegged it is not for pryde.
I have a gray cote, my body for to hyde.
I do love cawse boby k, good rosted cheese,
And swysshe metheglyn I loke for my fees.
And yf I have my HARPE, I care for no more,
It is my treasure, I kepe it in store.
For my harpe is made of a good mare's skyn,
The strynges be of horse heare, it maketh a good dyn.
My songe, and my voyce, and my harpe doth agree,
Much lyke the bussing of an homble bee:
Yet in my country I do make pastyme
In tellyng of prophyces which be not in ryme l.

[Page 76] I have before mentioned ‘"A ryght pleasant and merry History of the MYLNER OF ABINGTON m, with his wife and his faire, daughter and of two poor scholars of Cambridge,"’ a meagre epitome of Chaucer's MILLER'S TALE. In a blank leaf of the Bodleian copy, this tale is said by Thomas Newton of Cheshire, an elegant Latin epigrammatist of the reign of queen Elisabeth, to have been written by Borde n. He is also supposed to have published a collection of silly stories called SCOGIN'S JESTS, sixty in number. Perhaps Shakespeare took his idea from this jest-book, that Scogan was a mere buffoon, where he says that Falstaffe, as a juvenile exploit, ‘"broke Sco­gan's head at the court-gate o."’ Nor have we any better au­thority, than this publication by Borde, that Scogan was a graduate in the university, and a jester to a king p. Hearne, at the end of Benedictus Abbas, has printed Borde's ITINERARY, as it may be called; which is little more than a string of names, but is quoted by Norden in his SPECULUM BRITANNIAE q. Borde's circulatory peregrinations, in the quality of a quack-doctor, might have furnished more ample materials for an English topography. [Page 77] Beside the BREVIARY OF HEALTH, mentioned above, and which was approved by the university of Oxford, Borde has left the DIETARIE OF HEALTH, reprinted in 1576, the PROMPTUARIE OF MEDICINE, the DOCTRINE OF URINES, and the PRINCIPLES OF ASTRONOMICAL PROGNOSTICA­TIONS r: which are proofs of attention to his profession, and shew that he could sometimes be serious s. But Borde's name would not have been now remembered, had he wrote only pro­found systems in medicine and astronomy. He is known to posterity as a buffoon, not as a philosopher. Yet, I think, some of his astronomical tracts have been epitomised and bound up with Erra Pater's Almanacs.

Of Borde's numerous books, the only one that can afford any degree of entertainment to the modern reader, is the DIE­TARIE OF HELTHE: where, giving directions as a physician, concerning the choice of houses, diet, and apparel, and not suspecting how little he should instruct, and how much he might amuse, a curious posterity, he has preserved many anecdotes of the private life, customs, and arts, of our ancestors t. This work is dedicated to Thomas duke of Norfolk, lord treasurer under Henry the eighth. In the dedication, he speaks of his [Page 78] being called in as a physician to sir John Drury, the year when cardinal Wolsey was promoted to York; but that he did not chuse to prescribe without consulting doctor Buttes, the king's physi­cian. He apologises to the duke, for not writing in the ornate phraseology now generally affected. He also hopes to be excused, for using in his writings so many wordes of mirth: but this, he says, was only to make your grace merrie, and because mirth has ever been esteemed the best medicine. Borde must have had no small share of vanity, who could think thus highly of his own pleasantry. And to what a degree of taste and refinement must our antient dukes and lords treasurers have arrived, who could be exhilarated by the witticisms and the lively language of this facetious philosopher?

John Bale, a tolerable Latin classic, and an eminent biogra­pher, before his conversion from popery, and his advancement to the bishoprick of Ossory by king Edward the sixth, com­posed many scriptural interludes, chiefly from incidents of the New Testament. They are, the Life of Saint John the Bap­ [...]ist, written in 1538. Christ in his twelfth year. Baptism and Temptation. The Resurrection of Lazarus. The Council of the High-priests. Simon the Leper. Our Lord's Supper, and the Washing of the feet of his Disciples. Christ's Burial and Resurrection. The Passion of Christ. The Comedie of the three Laws of Nature, Moses, and Christ, corrupted by the Sodo­mites, Pharisees, and Papists, printed by Nicholas Bamburgh in 1538: and so popular, that it was reprinted by Colwell in 1562 u. God's Promises to Man w. Our author, in his Vocacyon to the Bishoprick of Ossory, informs us, that his COMEDY of John the Baptist, and his TRAGEDY of God's Promises, were acted by the youths upon a Sunday, at the market cross of Kilkenny x. What shall we think of the state, I will not say of the stage, but of common sense, when these deplorable dramas could be [Page 79] endured? Of an age, when the Bible was profaned and ridiculed from a principle of piety? But the fashion of acting mysteries appears to have expired with this writer. He is said, by him­self, to have written a book of Hymns, and another of jests and tales: and to have translated the tragedy of PAMMACHIUS y; the same perhaps which was acted at Christ's college in Cam­bridge in 1544, and afterwards laid before the privy council as a libel on the reformation z. A low vein of abusive burlesque, which had more virulence than humour, seems to have been one of Bale's talents: two of his pamphlets against the papists, all whom he considered as monks, are entitled the MASS OF THE GLUTTONS, and the ALCORAN OF THE PRELATES a. Next to exposing the impostures of popery, literary history was his favorite pursuit: and his most celebrated performance is his account of the British writers. But this work, perhaps originally undertaken by Bale as a vehicle of his sentiments in religion, is not only full of misrepresentations and partialities, arising from his religious prejudices, but of general inaccuracies, proceeding from negligence or misinformation. Even those more antient Lives which he transcribes from Leland's commentary on the same subject, are often interpolated with false facts, and imper­tinently marked with a misapplied zeal for reformation. He is angry with many authors, who flourished before the thirteenth century, for being catholics. He tells us, that lord Cromwell fre­quently screened him from the fury of the more bigotted bishops, on account of the comedies he had published b. But whether plays in particular, or other compositions, are here to be under­stood by comedies, is uncertain.

Brian Anslay, or Annesley, yeoman of the wine cellar to Henry the eighth about the year 1520, translated a popular French poem into English rhymes, at the exhortation of the [Page 80] gentle earl of Kent, called the CITIE OF DAMES, in three books. It was printed in 1521, by Henry Pepwell, whose prologue prefixed begins with these unpromising lines,

So now of late came into my custode
This forseyde book, by Brian Anslay,
Yeoman of the seller with the eight king Henry.

Another translator of French into English, much about the same time, is Andrew Chertsey. In the year 1520, Wynkyn de Worde printed a book with this title, partly in prose and partly in verse, Here foloweth the passyon of our lord Jesu Crist translated out of French into Englysch by Andrew Chertsey gentle­man the yere of our lord MDXX c. I will give two stanzas of Robert Copland's prologue, as it records the diligence, and some other performances, of this very obscure writer.

The godly use of prudent-wytted men
Cannot absteyn theyr auncyent exercise.
Recorde of late how besiley with his pen
The translator of the sayd treatyse
Hath him indevered, in most godly wyse,
Bokes to translate, in volumes large and fayre,
From French in prose, of goostly exemplaire.
As is, the floure of Gods commaundements,
A treatyse also called Lucydarye,
With two other of the sevyn sacraments,
One of cristen men the ordinary,
The seconde the craft to lyve well and to dye.
With dyvers other to mannes lyfe profytable,
A vertuose use and ryght commendable.

The Floure of God's Commaundements was printed by Wynkyn de Worde, in folio, in 1521. A print of the author's arms, with [Page 81] the name CHERTSEY, is added. The Lucydayre is translated from a favorite old French poem called Li Lusidaire. This is a translation of the ELUCIDARIUM, a large work in dialogue, containing the sum of christian theology, by some attributed to Anselm archbishop of Canterbury in the twelfth century d. Chertsey's other versions, mentioned in Copland's prologue, are from old French manuals of devotion, now equally forgotten, Such has been the fate of volumes fayre and large! Some of these versions have been given to George Ashby, clerk of the signet to Margaret queen of Henry the sixth, who wrote a moral poem for the use of their son prince Edward, on the Active policy of a prince, finished in the author's eightieth year. The prologue begins with a compliment to ‘"Maisters Gower, Chaucer, and Lydgate,"’ a proof of the estimation which that celebrated triumvirate still continued to maintain. I believe it was never printed. But a copy, with a small mutilation at the end, remains among bishop More's manuscripts at Cambridge e.

In the dispersed library of the late Mr. William Collins, I saw a thin folio of two sheets in black letter, containing a poem in the octave stanza, entitled, FABYL'S GHOSTE, printed by John Rastell in the year 1533. The piece is of no merit; and I should not perhaps have mentioned it, but as the subject serves to throw light on our early drama. Peter Fabell, whose appa­rition speaks in this poem, was called The Merrie Devil of Ed­monton, near London. He lived in the reign of Henry the seventh, and was buried in the church of Edmonton. Weever, in his ANTIENT FUNERAL MONUMENTS, published in 1631, says under Edmonton, that in the church ‘"lieth interred under a seemlie tombe without inscription, the body of Peter Fa­bell, as the report goes, upon whom this fable was fathered, that he by his wittie devises beguiled the devill. Belike he was some ingenious-conceited gentleman, who did use some [Page 82] sleighte trickes for his own disportes. He lived and died in the raigne of Henry the seventh, saith the booke of his merry Pranks f."’ The book of Fabell's Merry Pranks I have never seen. But there is an old anonymous comedy, written in the reign of James the first, which took its rise from this merry magician. It was printed in 1617, and is called the MERRY DEVIL OF EDMONTON, as it hath been sundry times acted by his majesties servants at the Globe on the Banke-side g. In the Pro­logue, Fabell is introduced, reciting his own history.

Tis Peter Fabell a renowned scholler,
Whose fame hath still beene hitherto forgot
By all the writers of this latter age.
In Middle-sex his birth, and his aboade,
Not full seauen mile from this great famous citty:
That, for his fame in slights and magicke won,
Was cald the Merry Fiend of Edmonton.
If any heere make doubt of such a name,
In Edmonton yet fresh vnto this day,
Fixt in the wall of that old ancient church
His monument remaineth to be seene:
His memory yet in the mouths of men,
That whilst he liu'd he could deceiue the deuill.
Imagine now, that whilst he is retirde,
From Cambridge backe vnto his natiue home,
Suppose the silent sable visage night,
Casts her blacke curtaine ouer all the world,
And whilst he sleepes within his silent bed,
Toyl'd with the studies of the passed day:
The very time and howre wherein that spirite
That many yeares attended his command;
And oftentimes 'twixt Cambridge and that towne,
Had in a minute borne him through the ayre,
[Page 83] By composition 'twixt the fiend and him,
Comes now to claime the scholler for his due.
Behold him here laid on his restlesse couch,
His fatall chime prepared at his head,
His chamber guarded with these sable slights,
And by him stands that necromanticke chaire,
In which he makes his direfull inuocations,
And binds the fiends that shall obey his will.
Sit with a pleased eye vntill you know
The commicke end of our sad tragique show.

The play is without absurdities, and the author was evidently an attentive reader of Shakespeare. It has nothing, except the machine of the chime, in common with FABYLL'S GHOSTE. Fabell is mentioned in our chronicle-histories, and from his dealings with the devil, was commonly supposed to be a friar h.

In the year 1537, Wilfrid Holme, a gentleman of Hunting­ton in Yorkshire, wrote a poem called The Fall and evil Success of Rebellion. It is a dialogue between England and the author, on the commotions raised in the northern counties on account of the reformation in 1537, under Cromwell's administration. It was printed at London in 1573. Alliteration is here carried to the most ridiculous excess: and from the constraint of ad­hering inviolably to an identity of initials, from an affectation of coining prolix words from the Latin, and from a total ignoranc [...] of prosodical harmony, the author has produced one of the most obscure, rough, and unpleasing pieces of versification in our language. He seems to have been a disciple of Skelton. The poem, probably from its political reference, is mentioned by Hollinshed i. Bale, who overlooks the author's poetry in his piety, thinks that he has learnedly and perspicuously discussed the absurdities of popery k.

[Page 84] One Charles Bansley, about the year 1540, wrote a rhyming satire on the pride and vices of women now a days. I know not if the first line will tempt the reader to see more.

"Bo peep, what have we spied!"

It was printed in quarto by Thomas Rainolde; but I do not find it among Ames's books of that printer, whose last piece is dated 1555. Of equal reputation is Christopher Goodwin, who wrote the MAYDEN'S DREME, a vision without imagina­tion, printed in 1542 l, and THE CHANCE OF THE DOLORUS LOVER, a lamentable story without pathos, printed in 1520 m. With these two may be ranked, Richard Feylde, or Field, au­thor of a poem printed in quarto by Wynkyn de Worde, called THE TREATISE OF THE LOVER AND JAYE. The prologue begins.

Though laureate poetes in old antiquite.

I must not forget to observe here, that Edward Haliwell, admitted a fellow of King's college Cambridge in 1532, wrote the Tragedy of Dido, which was acted at saint Paul's school in London, under the conduct of the very learned master John Rightwise, before cardinal Wolsey n. But it may be doubted, whether this drama was in English. Wood says, that it was written by Rightwise o. One John Hooker, fellow of Mag­dalene college Oxford in 1535, wrote a comedy called by Wood PISCATOR, or The Fisher caught p. But as latinity seems to have been his object, I suspect this comedy to have been in Latin, and to have been acted by the youth of his college.

The fanaticisms of chemistry seem to have remained at least till the dissolution of the monasteries. William Blomefield, otherwise Rattelsden, born at Bury in Suffolk, bachelor in [Page 85] physic, and a monk of Bury-abbey, was an adventurer in quest of the philosopher's stone. While a monk of Bury, as I pre­sume, he wrote a metrical chemical tract, entitled, BLOME­FIELD'S BLOSSOMS, or the CAMPE OF PHILOSOPHY. It is a vision, and in the octava stanza. It was originally written in the year 1530, according to a manuscript that I have seen: but in the copy printed by Ashmole q, which has some few improve­ments and additional stanzas, our author says he began to dream in 1557 r. He is admitted into the camp of philosophy by TIME, through a superb gate which has twelve locks. Just within the entrance were assembled all the true philosophers from Hermes and Aristotle, down to Roger Bacon, and the canon of Bridlington. Detached at some distance, appear those unskilful but specious pretenders to the transmutation of metals, lame, blind, and emaciated, by their own pernicious drugs and injudicious experiments, who defrauded king Henry the fourth of immense tr [...]asures by a counterfeit elixir. Among other wonders of this mysterious region, he sees the tree of philoso­phy, which has fifteen different buds, bearing fifteen different fruits. Afterwards Blomfield turning protestant, did not re­nounce his chemistry with his religion, for he appears to have dedicated to queen Elisabeth another system of occult science, entitled, THE RULE OF LIFE, OR THE FIFTH ESSENCE, with which her majesty must have been highly edified s.

Although lord Surrey and some others so far deviated from the dullness of the times, as to copy the Italian poets, the same taste does not seem to have uniformly influenced all the nobility of the court of king Henry the eighth who were fond of wri­ting verses. Henry Parker, lord Morley, who died an old man in the latter end of that reign, was educated in the best litera­ture which our universities afforded. Bale mentions his TRA­GEDIES and COMEDIES, which I suspect to be nothing more [Page 86] than grave mysteries and moralities, and which probably would not now have been lost, had they deserved to live. He mentions also his RHYMES, which I will not suppose to have been imi­tations of Petrarch t. Wood says, that ‘"his younger years were adorned with all kinds of superficial learning, especially with dramatic poetry, and his elder with that which was divine u."’ It is a stronger proof of his piety than his taste, that he sent, as a new year's gift to the princess Mary, HAM­POLE'S COMMENTARY UPON SEVEN OF THE FIRST PENI­TENTIAL PSALMS. The manuscript, with his epistle pre­fixed, is in the royal manuscripts of the British Museum w. Many of Morley's translations, being dedicated either to king Henry the eighth, or to the princess M [...]ry, are preserved in manuscript in the same royal repository x. They are chiefly from Solomon, Seneca, Erasmus, Athanasius, Anselm, Thomas Aquinas, and Paulus Jovius. The authors he translated shew his track of reading. But we should not forget his attention to the classics, and that he translated also Tully's DREAM OF SCIPIO, and three or four lives of Plutarch, although not immediately from the Greek y. He seems to have been a rigid catholic, retired and studious. His declaration, or paraphrase, on the ninety-fourth Psalm, was printed by Berthelette in 1539. A theological commentary by a lord, was too curious and important a production to be neglected by our first printers.

SECT. XXIV.

JOHN HEYWOOD, commonly called the epigrammatist, was beloved and rewarded by Henry the eighth for his buffoone­ries. At leaving the university, he commenced author, and was countenanced by sir Thomas More for his facetious disposition. To his talents of jocularity in conversation, he joined a skill in music, both vocal and instrumental. His merriments were so irresistible, that they moved even the rigid muscles of queen Mary; and her sullen solemnity was not proof against his songs, his rhymes, and his jests. He is said to have been often invited to exercise his arts of entertainment and pleasantry in her pre­sence, and to have had the honour to be constantly admitted into her privy-chamber for this purpose a.

Notwithstanding his professional dissipation, Heywood appears to have lived comfortably under the smiles of royal patronage. What the FAIRY QUEEN could not procure for Spenser from the penurious Elisabeth and her precise ministers, Heywood gained by puns and conceits.

His comedies, most of which appeared before the year 1534, are destitute of plot, humour, or character, and give us no very high opinion of the festivity of this agreeable companion. They consist of low incident, and the language of ribaldry. But per­fection must not be expected before its time. He is called our first writer of comedies. But those who say this, speak without determinate ideas, and confound comedies with moralities and interludes. We will allow, that he is among the first of our [Page 88] dramatists who drove the Bible from the stage, and introduced representations of familiar life and popular manners. These are the titles of his plays. The PLAY called the four P. s, being a new and merry ENTERLUDE OF A PALMER, PARDONER, PO­TICARY, AND PEDLAR, printed at London in quarto, without date or name of the printer, but prob [...]bl [...] from the press of Berthelette or Rastell. The PLAY of LOVE, or a new and very mery ENTERLUDE of all maner of WEATHERS, printed in quarto by William Rastell, 1533, and again by Robert Wyer b. A mery PLAY betweene the PARDONER and the FRERE, the CURATE, and neybour PRATTE, in quarto, by William Rastell, dated the fifth day of April, 1533. The PLAY of Gentlenes and Nobilitie, i [...] two parts, at London, without date. The PINNER of Wakefield, a COMEDIE. Philotas Scotch, a COMEDIE. A mery PLAY betweene JOHAN JOHAN the husband, TYB the wife, and syr JOHAN the preeste, by William Rastell, in quarto, 1533.

His EPIGRAMS, six hundred in number c, are probably some of his jokes versified; and perhaps were often extemporaneou [...] sal­lies, made and repeated in company. Wit and humour are ever found in proportion to the progress of politeness. The miserable drolleries and the contemptible quibbles, with which these little pieces are pointed, indicate the great want of refinement, not only in the composition but in the conversation of our ancestors. This is a specimen, on a piece of humour of Wolsey's Fool, A saying of PATCHE my lord Cardinale's FOOLE.

Maister Sexton d, a person of knowen wit,
As he at my lord Cardinale's boord did sit,
Gredily raughte at a goblet of wine:
Drinke none, sayd my lord, for that fore leg of thy [...]:
I warrant your Grace, saith Sexton, I provide
For my leg: I drinke on the tother side f.

The following is rather a humorous tale than an epigram, yet with an epigrammatic turn.

Although that a Fox have been seene there seelde g,
Yet there was lately in Finsbery Feelde h
A Fox sate in sight of certaine people,
Noddinge, and blissinge i, staring on Paules steeple.
A Maide toward market with hennes in a band
Came by, and with the Fox she fell in hand k.
"What thing is it, Rainard, in your braine ploddinge [...]
"What bringeth this busy blissinge, and noddinge?
"I notherl nod for sleepe sweete hart, the Foxe saide,
"Nor blisse for spirytes m, except the divell be a maide:
"My noddinge and blissinge breedth of wonder n
"Of the witteo of Poules Weathercocke yonder.
"There is more witte in that cockes onely head
"Than hath bene in all mens heds that be dead.
"And thus—by all common report we fynde,
"All that be dead, died for lacke of wynde:
"But the Weathercockes wit is not so weake
"To lacke winde—the winde is ever in his beake.
"So that, while any winde blowth in the skie,
"For lacke of winde that Weathercocke will not die."
[Page 90] She cast downe hir hennes, and now did she blis p,
"Jesu, quod she, in nomine patris!
"Who hath ever heard, at any season,
"Of a Foxe forging so feat a reason?"
And while she praysed the Foxes wit so,
He gat her hennes on his necke, and to go q.
"Whither away with my hennes, Foxe, quoth she?
"To Poules pigr as fast as I can, quoth he.
"Betwixt these Hennes and yond Weathercocke,
"I will assay to have chickens a flocke;
"Which if I may get, this tale is made goode,
"In all christendome not so Wise a broode s!"—

The other is on the phrase, wagging beards.

It is mery in hall, when beardes wagge all.
Husband, for this these woordes to mind I call;
This is ment by men in their merie eatinge,
Not to wag their beardes in brawling or threatinge:
Wyfe, the meaning hereof differeth not two pinnes,
Betweene wagginge of mens beardes and womens chinnes t.

On the fashion of wearing Verdingales, or farthingales.

Alas! poore verdingales must lie ith' streete,
To house them no doore ith' citee made meete.
Syns at our narrow doores they in cannot win u,
Send them to Oxforde, at brodegate to gett in w.

Our author was educated at Broadgate-hall in Oxford, so called from an uncommonly wide gate or entrance, and since [Page 91] converted into Pembroke college. These EPIGRAMS are men­tioned in Wilson's RHETORIKE, published in 1553.

Another of Heywood's works, is a poem in long verse, enti­tled, A DIALOGUE contayning in effect the number of all the PROVERBES in the English tongue compact in a matter concerning two marriages. The first edition I have seen, is dated 1547 x. All the proverbs of the English language are here interwoven into a very silly comic tale.

The lady of the story, an old widow now going to be married again, is thus described, with some degree of drollery, on the bridal day.

In this late old widow, and than old new wife,
Age and Appetite fell at a stronge strife.
Her lust was as yong, as her lims were olde.
The day of her wedding, like one to be solde,
She sett out herself in fyne apparell:
She was made like a beere-pott, or a barell.
A crooked hooked nose, beetle browde, blere eyde,
Many men wisht for beautifying that bryde.
Her wast to be gyrde in, and for a boone grace,
Some wel favoured visor on her yll favoured face;
But with visorlike visage, such as it was,
She smirkt and she smyld, but so lisped this las,
That folke might have thought it done onely alone
Of wantonnesse, had not her teeth been gone.
Upright as a candle standeth in a socket,
Stoode she that day, so simpre de cocket y.
Of auncient fathers she tooke no cure ne care,
She was to them as koy as Crokers mare.
She tooke the entertainment of yong men,
All in daliaunce, as nice as a nunnes hen z.
[Page 92] I suppose, That day her eares might wel glow,
For all the town talkt of her high and low [...]
One sayde a wel favoured old woman she is:
The divill she is, sayde another: and to this
In came the third with his five egges, and sayde,
Fifty yere ago I knew her a trim mayde.
Whatever she were then, sayde one, she is nowe,
To become a bryde, as meete as a sowe,
To beare a saddle. She is in this marriage,
As comely as a cowe in a cage.
Gup with a gald back, Gill, come up to supper,
What my old mare would have a new crupper,
And now mine olde hat must have a new band, &c a.

The work has its value and curiosity as a repertory of proverbs made at so early a period. Nor was the plan totally void of in­genuity, to exhibit these maxims in the course of a narrative, enlivened by facts and circumstances. It certainly was susceptible of humour and invention.

Heywood's largest and most laboured performance is the SPI­DER AND THE FLIE, with wooden cuts, printed at London by Thomas Powell, in 1556 b. It is a very long poem in the octave stanza, containing ninety-eight chapters. Perhaps there never was so dull, so tedious, and trifling an apologue: without fancy, meaning, or moral. A long tale of fictitious manners will always be tiresome, unless the design be burlesque: and then the ridiculous, arising from the contrast between the solemn and the light, must be ingeniously supported. Our author seems to have intended a fable on the burlesque construction: but we know not when he would be serious and when witty, whether he means to make the reader laugh, or to give him advice. We must indeed acknowledge, that the age was not yet sufficiently [Page 93] refined, either to relish or to produ [...]e, burlesque poetry c. Har­rison, the author of the DESCRIPTION OF BRITAINE, prefixed [Page 94] to Hollinshed's Chronicle, has left a sensible criticism on this poem. ‘"One hath made a boke of the SPIDER AND [Page 95] FLIE, wherin he dealeth so profoundly, and beyond all mea­sure of skill, that neither he himself that made it, neither any one that readeth it, can reach unto the meaning thereof d."’ It is a proof of the unpopularity of this poem, that it never was reprinted. Our author's EPIGRAMS, and the poem of PRO­VERBS, were in high vogue, and had numerous editions within the year 1598. The most lively part of the SPIDER and FLIE is perhaps the mock-fight between the spiders and flies, an awk­ward imitation of Homer's BATRACHOMUOMACHY. The pre­parations for this bloody and eventful engagement, on the part of the spiders, in their cobweb-castle, are thus described.

Behold! the battilments in every loope:
How th' ordinance lieth, flies far and nere to fac [...]:
Behold how everie peace, that lieth there in groope e,
Hath a spider gonner, with redy-f [...]red match.
Behold on the wals, spiders making ware wach:
The wach-spider in the towre a larum to strike,
At aproch of any nomber shewing warlike.
Se th' enprenabillf fort, in every border,
How everie spider with his wepon doth stand,
So thorowlie harnest g, in so good order:
The capitalh spider, with wepon in hand,
For that sort of sowdiers so manfully mand,
With copwebs like casting nets all flies to quell:
My hart shaketh at the sight: behold it is hell i!

The beginning of all this confusion is owing to a fly entering the poet's window, not through a broken pane, as might be pre­sumed, but through the lattice, where it is suddenly entangled in a cobweb k. The cobweb, however, will be allowed to be sufficiently [Page 96] descriptive of the poet's apartment. But I mention this circumstance as a probable proof, that windows of lattice, and not of glass, were now the common fashion l.

John Heywood died at Mechlin in Brabant about the year 1565. He was inflexibly attached to the catholic cause, and on the death of queen Mary quitted the kingdom. Antony Wood remarks m, with his usual acrimony, that it was a matter of wonder with many, that, considering the great and usual want of principle in the profession, a poet should become a voluntary exile for the sake of religion.

SECT. XXV.

I KNOW not if sir Thomas More may properly be considered as an English poet. He has, however, left a few obsolete poems, which although without any striking merit, yet, as pro­ductions of the restorer of literature in England, seem to claim some notice here. One of these is, A MERY JEST how a SERGEANT would learne to play the FREERE. Written by Maister Thomas More in hys youth a. The story is too dull and too long to be told here. But I will cite two or three of the prefatory stanzas.

He that hath lafteb the Hosier's crafte,
And fallth to makyng shone c;
The smyth that shall to paynting fall,
His thrift is well nigh done.
A black draper with whyte paper,
To goe to writing scole,
An old butler becum a cutler,
I wene shal prove a fole.
And an old trot, that can, god wot,
Nothyng but kysse the cup,
With her phisicke will kepe one sicke,
Till she hath soused hym up.
A man of law that never sawe
The wayes to bye and sell,
Wenyng to ryse by marchandyse,
I praye god spede hym well!
[Page 98] A marchaunt eke, that wyll goo seke
By all the meanes he may,
To fall in s [...]te tyll he dispute
His money cleane away;
Pletyng the lawe for every strawe,
Shall prove a thrifty man,
With bated and strife, but by my life,
I cannot tell you whan.
Whan an h [...]tter will smatter
In philosophy;
Or a pedlar waxe a medlar
In theology.

In these lines, which are intended to illustrate by familiar ex­amples, the absurdity of a serjeant at law assuming the business of a friar, perhaps the reader perceives but little of that festi­vity, which is supposed to have marked the character and the conversation of sir Thomas More. The last two stanzas deserve to be transcribed, as they prove, that this tale was designed to be sung to music by a minstrel, for the entertainment of company.

Now Maisters all, here now I shall
End then as I began;
In any wyse, I would avyse,
And counsayle every man,
His own cra [...]te use, all new refuse,
And lyghtly let them gone:
Play not the FREERE, Now make good cheere.

This piece is mentioned, among other popular story-books in 1575, by Laneham, in his ENTERTAINMENT AT KILLING­WORTH CASTLE in the reign of queen Elisabeth e.

In CERTAIN METERS, written also in his youth, as a pro­logue for his BOKE OF FORTUNE, and forming a poem of considerable [Page 99] length, are these stanzas, which are an attempt at per­sonification and imagery. FORTUNE is represented sitting on a lofty throne, smiling on all mankind who are gathered around her, eagerly expecting a distribution of her favours.

Then, as a bayte, she bryngeth forth her ware,
Silver and gold, rich perle and precious stone;
On whiche the mased people gase and stare,
And gape therefore, as dogges doe for the bone.
FORTUNE at them laugheth: and in her trone
Amyd her treasure and waveryng rychesse
Prowdly she hoveth as lady and empresse.
Fast by her syde doth wery Labour stand,
Pale Fere also, and Sorow all bewept;
Disdayn, and Hatred, on that other hand,
Eke restles Watch from slepe with travayles kept:
Before her standeth Daunger and Envy,
Flattery, Dysceyt, Mischiefe, and Tiranny f.

Another of sir Thomas More's juvenile poems is, A RUFULL LAMENTATION on the death of queen Elisabeth, wife of Henry the seventh, and mother of Henry the eighth, who died in childbed, in 1503. It is evidently formed on the tragical soliloquies, which compose Lydgate's paraphrase of Boccace's book DE CASIBUS VIRORUM ILLUSTRIUM, and which gave birth to the MIRROR OF MAGISTRATES, the origin of our historic dramas. These stanzas are part of the queen's complaint at the approach of death.

Where are our castels now, where are our towers?
Goodly Rychemonde g, sone art thou gone from me!
At Westmynster that costly worke of yours
[Page 100] Myne owne dere lorde, now shall I never se h!
Almighty God vouchsafe to graunt that ye
For you and your children well may edify,
My palace byldyd is, and lo now here I ly.—
Farewell my doughter, lady Margaret i!
God wotte, full oft it greved hath my mynde
That ye should go where we should seldom mete,
Now I am gone and have left you behynde.
O mortall folke, that we be very blynde!
That we lest feere, full oft it is most nye:
From you depart I must, and lo now here I lye.
Farewell, madame, my lordes worthy mother k!
Comforte your son, and be ye of good chere.
Take all a worth, for it will be no nother,
Farewell my doughter Katharine, late the fere
To prince Arthur myne owne chyld so dere l.
It boteth not for me to wepe and cry,
Pray for my sowle, for lo now here I lye.
Adew lord Henry, my loving sonne adew m,
Our lord encrease your honour and estate,
Adew my doughter Mary, bright of hew n,
God make you vertuous, wyse, and fortunate.
Adew swete hart, my little doughter Kate o,
Thou shalt, swete babe, such is thy destiny,
Thy mother never know, fo [...] lo now here I ly p.

[Page 101] In the fourth stanza, she reproaches the astrologers for their falsity in having predicted, that this should be the happiest and most fortunate year of her whole life. This, while it is a natural reflection in the speaker, is a proof of More's contempt of a futile and frivolous science, then so much in esteem. I have been prolix in my citation from this forgotten poem: but I am of opinion, that some of the stanzas have strokes of nature and pathos, and deserved to be rescued from total oblivion.

More, when a young man, contrived in an apartment of his father's house a goodly hangyng of fyne painted clothe, exhibiting nine pageants, or allegoric representations, of the stages of man's life, together with the figures of Death, Fame, Time, and Eternity. Under each picture he wrote a stanza. The first is under CHILDHOODE, expressed by a boy whipping a top.

I am called CHILDHOD, in play is all my mynde,
To cast a coyte q, a cokstele r, or a ball;
A toppe can I set, and dryve in its kynde:
But would to God, these hatefull bookes all
Were in a fyre ybrent to pouder small!
Then myght I lede my lyfe alwayes in play,
Which lyfe God sende me to myne endyng day.

Next was pictured MANHOD, a comely young man mounted on a fleet horse, with a hawk on his fist, and followed by two grey­hounds, with this stanza affixed.

MANHOD I am, therefore I me delyght
To hunt and hawke, to nourishe up and fede
The grayhounde to the course, the hawke to th' flyght,
And to bestryde a good and lusty stede:
These thynges become a very man in dede.
Yet thinketh this boy his pevishe game sweter,
But what, no force, his reason is no better.

[Page 102] The personification of FAME, like RUMOUR in the Chorus to Shakespeare's HENRY THE FIFTH, is surrounded with tongues s.

Tapestry, with metrical legends illustrating the subject, was common in this age: and the public pageants in the streets were often exhibited with explanatory verses. I am of opinion, that the COMOEDIOLAE, or little interludes, which More is said to have written and acted in his father's house, were only these nine pageants t.

Another juvenile exercise of More in the English stanza, is annexed to his prose translation of the LYFE of John Picus Mirandula, and entitled, TWELVE RULES OF JOHN PICUS MIRANDULA, partely exciting partely directing a man in SPIRI­TUAL BATAILE u. The old collector of his ENGLISH WORKES has also preserved two shorte ballettes w, or stanzas, which he wrote for his pastyme, while a prisoner in the tower x.

It is not my design, by these specimens, to add to the [...]ame of sir Thomas More; who is reverenced by posterity, as the scho­lar who taught that erudition which civilised his country, and as the philosopher who met the horrours of the block with that fortitude which was equally free from ostentation and enthu­siasm: as the man, whose genius overthrew the fabric of false learning, and whose amiable tranquillity of temper triumphed over the malice and injustice of tyranny.

To some part of the reign of Henry the eighth I assign the TOURNAMENT OF TOTTENHAM, or The wooeing, winning, and wedding of TIBBE the Reeves Daug [...]ter there. I presume it will not be supposed to be later than that reign: and the sub­stance of its phraseology, which I divest of its obvious innova­tions, is not altogether obsolete enough for a highe [...] period. I am aware, that in a manuscript of the British Museum it is referred to the time of Henry the sixth. But that manuscript [Page 103] affords no positive indication of that date y. It was published from an antient manuscript in the year 1631, and reduced to a more modern style, by William Bedwell, rector of Tottenham, and one of the translators of the Bible. He says it was written by Gilbert Pilkington, supposed to have been rector of the same parish, and author of an unknown tract, called PASSIO DOMINI JESU. But Bedwell, without the least comprehension of the scope and spirit of the piece, imagines it to be a serious narra­tive of a real event; and, with as little sagacity, believes it to have been written before the year 1330. Allowing that it might originate from a real event, and that there might be some pri­vate and local abuse at the bottom, it is impossible that the poet could be serious. Undoubtedly the chief merit of this poem, although not destitute of humour, consists in the design rather than the execution. As Chaucer, in the RIME OF SIR THOPAS z, travestied the romances of chivalry, the TOURNAMENT [Page 104] OF TOTTENHAM is a burlesque on the parade and [...]op­peries of chivalry itself. In this light, it may be considered as a curiosity; and does honour to the good sense and discernment of the writer, who seeing through the [...]olly of these fashionable ex­ercises, was sensible at the same time, that they were too popular to be attacked by the more solid weapons of reason and argument. Even on a supposition that here is an allusion to real facts and characters, and that it was intended to expose some popular story of the amours of the daughter of the Reve of Tottenham, we must acknowledge that the satire is conveyed in an ingenious mode. He has introduced a parcel of clowns and rustics, the inhabitants of Tottenham, Islington, Highgate, and Hackney, places then not quite so polished as at present, who imitate all [Page 105] the solemnities of the barriers. The whole is a mock-parody on the challenge, the various events of the encounter, the exhibi­tion of the prize, the devices and escocheons, the display of arms, the triumphant procession of the conqueror, the oath before the combat, and the splendid feast which followed, with every other ceremony and circumstance which constituted the regular tournament. The reader will form an idea of the work from a short extract a.

He that bear'th him best in the tournament,
Shal be graunted the greeb by the common assent,
For to winne my daughter with doughtinesse of dent c,
And Copple my broode hen that was brought out of Kent,
And my dunned cow:
For no spenced will I spare,
For no cattell will I care.
He shall have my gray mare, and my spotted sow.
There was many a bold lad their bodyes to bede e;
Then they toke their leave, and hamward they hede f;
And all the weke after they gayed her wede g,
Till it come to the day that they should do their dede h:
They armed them in mattes;
They sett on their nowls i
Good blacke bowls k,
To keep their powlsl from battering of battes m.
They sewed hem in sheepskinnes for they should not brest n,
And every ilko of them had a blacke hatte instead of a crest;
[Page 106] A baskett or panyer before on their brest,
And a flayle in her hande, for to fight prest p,
Forthe con thei fare q.
There was kidr mickle force.
Who should best fends his corse,
He that had no good horse, borrowed him a mare, &c t.

It appears to me, that the author, to give dignity to his nar­rative, and to heighten the ridicule by stiffening the familiarity of his incidents and characters, has affected an antiquity of style. This I could prove from the cast of its fundamental diction and idiom, with which many of the old words do not agree. Perhaps another of the author's affectations is the alli­terative manner. For although other specimens of alliteration, in smaller pieces, are now to be found, yet it was a singularity. To those which I have mentioned, of this reign, I take this opportunity of adding an alliterative poem, which may be called the FALCON AND THE PIE, who support a DYALOGUE DE­SENSYVE FOR WOMEN AGAYNST MALICYOUS DETRAC­TOURS, printed in 1542 u. The author's name Robert Vaghane, [Page 107] or Vaughan, is prefixed to some sonnets which form a sort of epilogue to the performance.

For the purpose of ascertaining or illustrating the age of pieces which have been lately or will be soon produced, I here stop to [Page 108] recall the reader's attention to the poetry and language of the last century, by exhibiting some extracts from the manuscript ro­mance of YWAIN and GAWAIN, which has some great outlines of Gothic painting, and appears to have been written in the reign of king Henry the sixth w. I premise, that but few cir­cumstances happened, which contributed to the improvement of our language, within that and the present period.

The following is the adventure of the enchanted forest at­tempted by sir Colgrevance, which he relates to the knights of the round table at Cardiff in Wales x.

A fayre forest sone I fand y,
Me thought mi hapz thare [...]el ful hard
For thar was mani a wide bayard a,
Lions, beres, both bul and bare,
That rewfully gan ropeb and rare c.
Away I droghd me, and with that,
I sawe sone whar a man sat
On a lawnd, the [...]owlest wight,
That ever ȝite man saw in syght:
He was a lathlyf creatur,
For fowl he was out of mesur;
A wonder maceg in hand he hade,
And sone mi way to him I made;
His hevyd h, me thoght, was als grete
Als of a rowncy or a nete i.
Unto his belt hangk his hare l;
And eft that byheld I mare m,
To his forhede byheld I than
Was braddern than twa large span;
He had ereso alsp an olyfant,
And was wel moreq than a geant,
His face was ful brade and flat,
His naser was cutted as a cat,
His browes war like litel buskes s,
And his [...]ethe like bare tuskes;
A ful grete bulget open his bak,
Thar was noght made with outen lacu;
[Page 110] His chin was fast untilw his brest,
On his mace he gan him rest.
Also it was a wonder wede x
That the cherley yn ȝede z,
Nowthera of wolb ne of line c,
Was the wede that he went yn.
When he me sagh, he stode up right,
I fraynedd him if he wolde fight,
For tharto was I in gude will,
Bot alse a beste than stode he still:
I hopidf that he no wittes kowth g,
Ne reson for to speke with mowth.
To him I spak ful hardily,
And said, What ertow h, belamy i?
He said ogain, I am a man.
I said, Swilkk saw I never nane l.
What ertowm alsone n, said he?
I said, Swilk also you her may se.
I said, What dosep you here allane q?
He said, I kepe thisr bestes ilkane s.
I said, That es mervaile, think me,
For I herd never of man bot the,
In wildernes, ne in forestes,
That kepeing had of wilde bestes,
Bott thai war bunden fast in halde u.
He sayd, Of thirsesw none so balde,
[Page 111] Nowther by day ne by night,
Anesx to pas out of mi sight.
I sayd, How so, tel me thi still.
Per fay, he said, gladly I will.
He said, In al this fair forest
Es thar non so wilde best,
That renney dar z, bot stil stand a
Whan I am to him cumand b;
And ay when that I will him fang c
With my fingers that erd strang,
I gere him cri on swilk manere,
That al the bestes when thai him here,
Obout me than cum thai all,
And to mi fete fast thai fall
On thair maner, merci to cry.
Bot onderstond now redyli [...]
Olyvef esg thar lifandh no ma i,
Bot I, that durst amang them ga k,
That he ne sold sone be altorent l;
Bot thai ar at my comandment,
To me thai cum whan I tham call,
And I am maister of tham all.
Than he asked onone right,
What man I was? I said, a knyght,
That soght avents in that lande,
My body to asaim and fand n;
And I the pray of thi kounsayle
You teche me to sum mervayle o.
[Page 112] He said, I can no wonders tell,
Bot her besyde es a Well;
Wend yeder p, and do als I say,
You passes noght al quite oway,
Folow forth this ilk strete q,
And sone sum mervayles sal you mete:
The well es under the fairest Tre
That ever was in this cuntre;
By that Well hingesr a Bacyne s
That es of golde gude and fyne,
With a cheyne, trewly to tell,
That will reche in to the Well.
Thare as a Chapel nere thar by,
That nobil es and ful lufely t:
By the well standes a Stane u,
Take the bacyn sone onane w,
And cast on water with thi hand,
And sone you sal se new tithand x:
A storme sal rise and a tempest,
Al obout, by est and west,
You sal herey mani thonorz blast
Al obout thea the blawandb fast,
And thar sal cum sikec slete and rayne
That unnesed sal you stand ogayne:
Of lightnese sal you se a lowe,
Unnethes you sal thi selvanf knowe;
[Page 113] And if you pas with owten grevance,
Than has thou the fairest chance
That ever ȝit had any knyght,
That theder come to kythg his myght.
Than toke I leve, and went my way,
And rade unto the midday;
By than I com whare I sold be,
I saw the Chapel and the Tre:
Thare I fand the fayrest thorne
That ever groued sen Godh was born:
So thik it was with leves grene
Might no rayn cum tharby twene i;
And that grenesk lastes ay,
For no winter derel yt may.
I fand the Bacyn, als he talde,
And the Well with water kalde m.
An emerawdn was the Stane o,
Richer saw I never nane,
On fowr rubyes on heght standand p,
Thair light lasted over al the land.
And whan I saw that semely syght,
It made me bath joyful and lyght.
I toke the Bacyn sone onane
And helt water opon the Stane:
The wederq wex than wonder blak,
And the thonerr fast gan crak;
Thar cum slikes stormes of hayl and rayn,
Unnethest I might stand thare ogayn:
The storeu windes blew ful lowd,
So kene cam never arew of clowd.
[Page 114] I was drevyn with snawe and slete,
Unnethes I might stand on my fete.
In my face the leveningx smate y,
I wend have brent z, so was it hate a:
That weder made me so will of rede,
I hopidb sone to have my dede c;
And sertes d, if it lang had last,
I hope I had never thethine past.
Bot thorgh his might that tholedf wownd
The storme sesed within a stownde g:
Then wex the weder fayr ogayne,
And tharof was I wonder fayne;
For best comforth of al thing
Es solace after mislykeing.
Then saw I sone a mery syght,
Of al the fowles that er in flyght,
Lighted so thik opon that tre,
That bogh ne lefe none might I se;
So merily than gon thai sing,
That al the wode bigan to ring;
Ful mery was the melody
Of thaire sang and of thaire cry;
Thar herd never man none swilk,
Both if ani had herd that ilk.
And when that mery din was done,
Another [...] din than herd I sone,
Als it war of hors men,
Mo than owtheri nyenk or ten.
Sone than saw I cum a knyght,
In riche armure was he dight;
[Page 115] And sone whan I gan on him loke,
Mi shelde and sper to me I toke.
That knight to me hied ful fast,
And kene wordes out gan he cast:
He bad that I sold tell him lite l
Why I did him swilk despite,
With wedersm wakend him of rest,
And done him wrang in his Forest;
Thar fore, he sayd, You sal aby n:
And with that come he egerly,
And said, I had ogayn resowne o
Done him grete destrucciowne,
And might it nevermore amend;
Tharfor he bad, I sold me fend:
And sone I smate him on the shelde,
Mi schaft brac out in the felde;
And then he bar me son bi strenkith
Out of my sadel my speres lenkith:
I wat that he was largely
By the shuldres marep than I;
And by the dedq that I sal thole r,
Mi stede by his was bot a fole.
For mates I lay down on the grownde,
So was I stonaydt in that stownde:
A worde to me wald he noght say,
Bot toke my stede, and went his way.
Ffull sarilyu than thare I sat,
For waw I wist noght what was what:
With mi stede he went in hy,
The same way that he come by;
[Page 116] And I durst folow him no ferr
For dout me solde bite werr,
And also ȝit by Goddes dome x,
I ne wist whar he bycome.
Than I thoght how I had hight y,
Unto myne ost the hende knyght,
And also till his lady bryght,
To come ogayn if that I myght.
Mine armurs left I thare ylkane,
For els myght I noght have gane z;
Unto myne ina I come by day:
The hende knyght and the fayre may,
Of mi come war thai ful glade,
And nobil semblant thai me made;
In al thinges thai have tham born
Als thai did the night biforn.
Sone thai wist whar I had bene,
And said, that thai had never sene
Knyght that ever theder come
Take the way ogayn home.—

I add Sir Ywain's achievement of the same Adventure, with its consequences.

Whan Ywayn was withowten town,
Of his palfray lighted he down,
And dight him right wele in his wede,
And lepe up on his gude stede.
Furth he rade on right,
Until it neghed nereb the nyght:
He passed many a high mountayne
In wildernes, and many a playne,
[Page 117] Til he come to that leyirc sty d
That him byhoved pass by:
Than was he seker for to se
The Wel, and the fayre Tre;
The Chapel saw he at the last,
And thedere hyed he ful fast.
More curtaysli and more honowr
Fandf he with tham in that towr g,
And mare comforth by mony falde h,
Than Colgrevance had him of talde.
That night was he herberedi thar,
So wel was he never are k.
At morn he went forth by the strete,
And with the cherell sone gan he mete
That sold tel to him the way;
He saynedm him, the sothe to say,
Twenty sith n, or ever he blan o,
Swilke mervayle had he of that man,
For had wonder p, that nature
Myght mak so foul a creature.
Than to the Wel he rade gude pase,
And down he lighted in that plase;
And sone the bacyn has he tane,
And kestq water opon the Stane;
[Page 118] And sone thar wax, withowten fayle,
Wind and thonor, rayn and hayle:
Whan it was sesed, than saw he
The fowles light opon the tre,
Thai sang ful fayr opon that thorn
Right als thai had done byforn.
And sone he saw cumandr a knight,
As fast so the fowl in flyght,
With rude sembland f, and sterne chere,
And hastily he neghed nere;
To speke of lufs na time was thare,
For aither hated uther ful sare t.
Togeder smertly gan thai drive,
Thair sheldes son bigan to ryve,
Thair shaftes cheverdu to thair hand
Bot thai war buth ful wele syttand w.
Out thai droghx thair swerdes kene,
And delt strakes tham bytwene;
Al to pieces thai hewed thair sheldes,
The culponsy fleghz out in the feldes.
On helmes strake thay so with yre,
At ilka strake out brast the fyr;
Ayther of tham gude buffettes bede a,
And nowther wald styr of the stede.
Ful kenely thai kydb thair myght,
And feyned tham noght for to fyght:
Thair hauberkes that men myght ken
The blode out of thair bodyes ren.
Ayther on other laid so fast,
The batayl might noght lang last:
[Page 119] Hauberks erc broken, and helmes reven,
Styf strakes war thar gyfen;
Thai foght on hors stifly always,
The batel was wele more to prays;
Bot at the last syr Ywayne
On his felow kyd his mayne,
So egerly he smate him than,
He clefe the helme and the herne pan d:
The knyght wist he was nere ded,
To fly than was his best rede e;
And fast he fled with al hys mayne,
And fast folowe syr Ywayne,
Bot he ne might him overtake,
Tharfore grete murning gan he make:
He folowd him ful stowtlyk f,
And wold have tane him ded or quik;
He folowed him to the cetè g,
Naman lyfandh met he.
Whan thai come to the kastel ȝate,
In he folowed fast tharate:
At aither entre was, I wys,
Straytly wroght a port culis,
Shod wele with yren and stele,
And also grundeni wonder wele:
Under that then was a swyke k
That made syr Y wayn to myslike,
His hors fote toched thare on;
Than fel the port culis onone l,
[Page 120] Bytwyx him and his arsown,
Thorgh sadel and stede it smate al down,
His sporesm of his heles it schare n:
Than had Ywayne murnyngo mare p,
Bot so he wend have passed quite q,
That fel the totherr biforn alstyte.
A faire grace that fel him swa s,
Al if it did his hors in twa t,
And his spors of aither hele,
That himself passed so wele.

While sir Ywaine remains in this perilous confinement, a lady looks out of a wicket which opened in the wall of the gate­way, and releases him. She gives him her ring,

I sal leve the har mi Ring u,
Bot ȝelde it me at myne askyng:
Whan thou ert broght of al thi payn
Ȝeldew it than to me ogayne:
Als the bark hillesx the tre,
Right so sal my Ring do the;
When you in hand has the stane y,
Derz sal thai do the nane,
For the stane es of swilk might,
Of the sal men have na syght a.
Wit ȝeb wel that sir Ywayne
Of thir wordes was ful fayne c;
In at the dore sho hem led,
And did him sit opon hir bed,
[Page 121] A quylte ful nobil lay tharon,
Richer saw he never none, &c.

Here he is secreted. In the mean time, the Lord of the castle dies of his wounds, and is magnificently buried. But before the interment, the people of the castle search for sir Ywayne.

Half his stede thar fand thai d
That within the ȝatese lay;
Bot the knight thar fand thai noght:
Than was thar mekil sorow unsoght,
Dore ne window was thar nane,
Whar he myght oway gane.
Thai said he sold thare be laft f,
Or els he cowth of weche craft g,
Or he cowth of nygromancy,
Or he had wenges to fly.
Hastily than went thai all
And soght him in the maydens hall,
In chambers high es noght at hide,
And in solersh on ilka side.
Sir Ywayne saw ful wele al that,
And still opon the bed he sat:
Thar was nane that anes mynt
Unto the bed at smytei a dynt k:
Al about thai smate so fast,
That mani of thair wapins brast;
Mekyl sorow thai made ilkane,
For thai ne myght wreke thair lord bane.
Thai went oway with dreri chere,
And sone thar efter come the Bere l;
[Page 122] A lady folowd white so mylk,
In al that lond was none swilk:
Sho wrang her fingers, outbraste the blode,
For mekyl wam sho was nere wode n;
Hir fayr har scho alto drogh o,
And ful oft fel sho down in swogh p;
Sho wepe with a ful dreri voice.
The hali water, and the croyce,
Was born bifore the procession;
Thar folowd mani a moder son.
Bifor the cors rade a knyght
On his stede that was ful wight q;
In his armurs wele arayd,
With spere and target gudely grayd.
Than sir Ywayne herd the cry
Of the dole of tha [...] fayr lady, &c.

Sir Ywayne desires the damsel's permission to look at the lady of the deceased knight through a window. He falls in love with her. She passes her time in praying for his soul.

Unto his saul was sho ful hulde r:
Opon a sawter al of gulde s,
To say the sal-mast fast sho bigan.

The damsel u, whose name is Lunet, promises sir Ywaine an interview with the Lady. She uses many arguments to the Lady, and with much art, to shew the necessity of her marrying again, for the defence of her castle.

The mayden redies hir ful rath w,
Bilive she gert syr Ywayne bath x,
And clad hym seym in gude scarlet,
Forordey wel, and with gold fret z;
A girdel ful riche for the nones,
Of perry and of precious stones.
Sho talde him al how he sold do
Whan that he come the lady to.

[Page 124] He is conducted to her chamber.

Bot ȝit sir Ywayne had grete drede,
Whan he unto chamber ȝede;
The chamber, flore, and als the bed,
With klothes of gold was al over spread a.

[Page 125] After this interview, she is reconciled to him, as he only in self-defence has slain her husband, and she promises him marriage.

Than hastily sho went to Hall,
Thar abode her barons all,
For to hald thair parlement b,
And maric her by thair asent.

They agree to the marriage.

Than the lady went ogayne
Unto chamber to Ywayne;
Sir, sho said, so God me save,
Other lord will I nane have:
If I the leftd I did noght right,
A king son, and a noble knyght.
Now has the maiden done hir thoght e,
Syr Ywayne out of anger broght.
The Lady led him unto Hall,
Ogainsf him rose the barons all,
And at thai said ful sekerly,
This Knight sal wed the Lady:
And ilkane said thamselfg bitwene,
So fayr a man had thai noght sene,
For his bewte in hal and bowr:
Him semes to be an emperowr.
[Page 126] We walde that thai war trowth plight,
And weded sone this ilk nyght.
The lady set hir on the dese h,
And cumand al to hald thair pese i;
And bad hir steward sumwhat say,
Ork men went fra cowrt away.
The steward said, Sirs, understandes,
Worl is waxenm in this landes;
The king Arthur is redy dight
To be here by this fowre tenyght:
He and his menȝen ha thoght
To win this land if thai moght:
Thai wateo ful wele, that he is ded
That was lorde here in this stede p:
None es so wight wapinsq to welde,
Ne that so boldly mai us belde,
And wemen may maintene no stowr r,
Thai most nedes have a governowr:
Tharfor mi lady most nede
Be weded hastily for drede s,
And to na lord wil sho take tent t,
Bot if it be by ȝowr assent.
Than the lordes al on raw u
Held them wele payd of this saw w.
[Page 127] Al assented hyr untill x
To tak a lord at hyr own wyll.
Than said the lady onone right,
How hald ȝe ȝow payd of this knight?
He profers hym on al wyse
To myne honor and my servyse,
And sertes, sirs, the soth to say,
I saw him never, er this day;
Bot talde unto me has it bene
He es the kyng son Uriene:
He es cumen of high parage y,
And wonder doghty of vassalage z,
War and wise, and ful curtayse,
He ȝernesa me to wife alwayse;
And nere the lese, I wate, he might
Have wele better, and so war right.
With a voice halelyb thai sayd,
Madame, ful wele we hald us payd:
Bot hastes fast al that ȝe may,
That ȝe war wedded this ilk day:
And grete prayer gan thai make
On alwise, that sho suld hym take.
Sone unto the kirk thai went,
And war wedded in thair present;
Thar wedded Ywain in plevyne c
The riche lady ALUNDYNE,
The dukes doghter of Landuit,
Els had hyr lande bene destruyt.
[Page 128] Thus thai made the maryage
Amang al the riche barnage d:
Thai made ful mekyl mirth that day,
Ful grete festes on gude aray;
Grete mirthes made thai in that stede,
And al forgetyn es now the dede e
Of him that was thair lord fre;
Thai say that this es worth swilk thre.
And that thai lufed him mekil more
Than him that lord was thare byfore.
The bridal f sat, for soth to tell,
Till king Arthur come to the well
[Page 129] With al his knyghtes ever ilkane,
Byhind leved thar noght ane g.—
The king kest water on the stane,
The storme rase ful sone onane
With wikked h weders, kene and calde,
Als it was byfore hand talde.
[Page 130] The king and his men ilkane
Wend tharwith to have bene slane,
So blew it storei with slete and rayne:
And hastily gan syr Ywayne k,
Dight him graythlyl in his gere,
With nobil shelde, and strong spere:
When he was dight in seker wede,
Than he umstradem a nobil stede:
Him thoght that he was als lyght
Als a fowl es to the flyght.
Unto the Well fast wendes he,
And sone when thai myght him se,
Syr Kay, for he wald noght fayle,
Smertly askes the batayle.
And alsone than said the kyng,
Sir Kay, I grante thine askyng.

Sir Ywaine is victorious, who discovers himself to king Arthur after the battle.

And sone sir Ywayne gan him tell
Of al his fare how it byfell,
With the knight how that he sped,
And how he had the Lady wed;
And how the Mayden him helped well:
Thus talde he to hym ilka dele.
Syr kyng, he sayd, I ȝow byseke,
And al ȝowr menȝe milde and meke,
That ȝe wald grante to me that grace,
Atn wend with me to my purchase,
And se my Kastle and my Towre,
Than myght ȝe do me grete honowre.
[Page 131] The kyng granted him ful right
To dwel with him a fouretenyght.
Sir Ywayne thanked him oft sith n,
The knyghtes war al glad and blyth,
With sir Ywayne for to wend:
And sone a squier has he send
Unto the kastel, the way he nome,
And warned the Lady of thair come,
And that his Lord come with the kyng.
And when the Lady herd this thing,
It es no lifand man with mowth
That half hir cumforth tel kowth.
Hastily that Lady hende
Cumand al her men to wende,
And dight tham in thair best aray,
To kepe the king that ilk day:
Thai kepedo him in riche wede
Rydeand on many a nobil stede;
Thai hailsedp him ful curtaysly,
And also al his cumpany:
Thai said he was worthy to dowt q,
That so fele folk led obowt r:
Thar was grete joy, I ȝow bihete s,
With clothes speredt in ilka strete,
And damysels danceand ful wele,
With trumpes, pipes, and with fristele:
The Castel and the Cetee rang
With mynstralsi and nobil sang.
Thai ordand tham ilkane in fere
To kepe the king on faire manere.
The Lady went withowten towne,
And with her many balde barowne,
[Page 132] Cled in purpure and ermyne,
With girdels al of golde ful fyne.
The Lady made ful m [...]ri chere,
Sho was al dight with drewriesu dere;
Abowt hir was ful mekyl thrang,
The puple cried and sayd omang,
Welcum ertou, kyng Arthoure,
Of al this werld thou beres the floure!
Lord kyng of all kynges,
And blissed be he that the brynges!
When the Lady the Kyng saw,
Unto him fast gan sho draw,
To hald his sterap whils he lyght;
Bot sone when he of hir had syght,
With mekyl mirth thai samenv met,
With hende wordes sho him gret;
A thousand sithes welkum sho says,
And so es syr Gawayne the curtayse.
The king said, Lady white so flowr,
God gif ye joy and mekyl honowr,
For thou ert fayr with body gent:
With that he hir in armes hent,
And ful fayre he gan her falde w,
Thar was many to bihalde:
Et es no man with tong may tell
The mirth that was tham omell;
Of maidens was thar so gude wane x,
That ilka knight myght take ane.

The king stays here eight days, entertained with various sports.

And ilk day thai had solace sere
Of huntyng, and als of revere y:
[Page 133] For thar was a ful fayre cuntre,
With wodes and parkes grete plente;
And castels wroght with lyme and stane,
That Ywayne with his wife had tane z.

SECT. XXVI.

I FEAR I shall be pronounced a heretic to modern criticism, in retracting what I have said in a preceding page, and in placing the NOTBROWNE MAYDE under some part of this reign. Prior, who, about the year 1718, paraphrased this poem, without improving its native beauties, supposes it to have been three hundred years old. It appears from two letters preserved in the British Museum, written by Prior to Wanley, lord Oxford's librarian, that Prior consulted Wanley about this antient ballad a. It is, however, certain, that Wanley, an antiquarian of unques­tionable skill and judgement in these niceties, whatever directions and information he might have imparted to Prior on this subject, could never have communicated such a decision. He certainly in these letters gives no such opinion b. This is therefore the hasty conjecture of Prior; who thought that the curiosity which he was presenting to the world, would derive proportionable value from its antiquity, who was better employed than in the petty labour of ascertaining dates, and who knew much more of modern than antient poetry.

The NOT-BROWNE MAYDE first appeared in Arnolde's CHRONICLE, or CUSTOMS OF LONDON, which was first printed about the year 1521. This is perhaps the most heterogeneous and multifarious miscellany that ever existed. The collector sets out with a catalogue of the mayors and sheriffs, the customs and charters, of the city of London. Soon afterwards we have [Page 136] receipts to pickle sturgeon, to make vinegar, ink, and gun­powder; how to raise parsley in an hour; the arts of brewery and soap-making; an estimate of the livings in London; an account of the last visitation of saint Magnus's church; the weight of Essex cheese, and a letter to cardinal Wolsey. The NOT-BROWNE MAYDE is introduced, between an estimate of some subsidies paid into the exchequer, and directions for buying goods in Flanders. In a word, it seems to have been this com­piler's plan, by way of making up a volume, to print together all the notices and papers, whether antient or modern, which he could amass, of every sort and subject. It is supposed, that he intended an antiquarian repertory: but as many recent mate­rials were admitted, that idea was not at least uniformly ob­served; nor can any argument be drawn from that supposition, that this poem existed long before, and was inserted as a piece of antiquity.

The editor of the PROLUSIONS infers c, from an identity of rhythmus and orthography, and an affinity of words and phrases, that this poem appeared after sir Thomas More's JEST OF THE SERJEANT AND FREER, which, as I have observed, was writ­ten about the year 1500. This reasoning, were not other argu­ments obvious, would be inconclusive, and might be turned to the opposite side of the question. But it is evident from the language of the NOTBROWNE MAYDE, that it was not written earlier than the beginning, at least, of the sixteenth century. There is hardly an obsolete word, or that requires a glossary, in the whole piece: and many parts of Surry and Wyat are much more difficult to be understood. Reduce any two stanzas to modern orthography, and they shall hardly wear the appearance of antient poetry. The reader shall try the experiment on the two following, which occur accidentally d.

HE.
[Page 137]
Yet take good hede, for ever I drede
That ye could nat sustayne,
The thornie wayes, the depe valèis,
The snowe, the frost, the rayne,
The colde, the hete: for, dry or wete,
We must lodge on the playne;
And us abofec none other rofe
But a brake bush, or twayne.
Which sone sholde greve you, I believe;
And ye wolde gladly than,
That I had to the grene wode go
Alone a banyshed man.—
SHE.
Among the wylde dere, such an archère,
As men say that ye be,
May ye not fayle of good vitayle
Where is so grete plentè:
And water clere of the ryvère
Shall be full swete to me;
With which in hele, I shall ryght wele
Endure, as ye shall see:
And, or we go, a bedde or two
I can provyde anone.
For, in my mynde, of all mankynde
I love but you alone.

The simplicity of which passage Prior has thus decorated and dilated.

HENRY.
Those limbs, in lawn and softest silk array'd,
From sun-beams guarded, and of winds afraid;
[Page 138] Can they bear angry Jove? can they resist
The parching dog-star, and the bleak north-east?
When, chill'd by adverse snows and beating rain,
We tread with weary steps the longsome plain;
When with hard toil we seek our evening food,
Berries and acorns from the neighbouring wood;
And find among the cliffs no other house,
But the thin covert of some gather'd boughs;
Wilt thou not then reluctant send thine eye
Around the dreary waste; and weeping try
(Though then, alas! that trial be too late)
To find thy father's hospitable gate,
And seats, where ease and plenty brooding sate?
Those seats, whence long excluded thou must mourn;
That gate, for ever barr'd to thy return:
Wilt thou not then bewail ill-fated love,
And hate a banish'd man, condemn'd in woods to rove?
EMMA.
Thy rise of fortune did I only wed,
From it's decline determin'd to recede;
Did I but purpose to embark with thee
On the smooth surface of a summer's sea:
While gentle Zephyrs play in prosperous gales,
And Fortune's favour fills the swelling sails;
But would forsake the ship, and make the shore,
When the winds whistle, and the tempests roar?
No, Henry, no: one sacred oath has tied
Our loves; one destiny our life shall guide;
Nor wild nor deep our common way divide.
When from the cave thou risest with the day,
To beat the woods, and rouse the bounding prey,
The cave with moss and branches I'll adorn,
And cheerful sit, to wait my lord's return:
[Page 139] And, when thou frequent bring'st the smitten deer
(For seldom, archers say, thy arrows err,)
I'll fetch quick fuel from the neighbouriug wood,
And strike the sparklng flint, and dress the food;
With humble duty and officious haste,
I'll cull the farthest mead for thy repast;
The choicest herbs I to thy board will bring,
And draw thy water from the freshest spring:
And, when at night with weary toil opprest,
Soft slumbers thou enjoy'st, and wholesome rest;
Watchful I'll guard thee, and with midnight prayer
Weary the Gods to keep thee in their care;
And joyous ask, at morn's returning ray,
If thou hast health, and I may bless the day.
My thoughts shall fix, my latest wish depend,
On thee, guide, guardian, kinsman, father, friend:
By all these sacred names be Henry known
To Emma's heart; and grateful let him own,
That she, of all mankind, could love but him alone!

What degree of credit this poem maintained among our earlier ancestors, I cannot determine. I suspect the sentiment was too refined for the general taste. Yet it is enumerated among the popular tales and ballads by Laneham, in his narrative of queen Elisabeth's entertainment at Kenilworth-castle in 1575 f. I have never seen it in manuscript. I believe it was never reprinted from Arnolde's Chronicle, where it first appeared in 1521, till so late as the year 1707. It was that year revived in a collec­tion called the MONTHLY MISCELLANY, or MEMO [...]RS FOR THE CURIOUS, and prefaced with a little essay on our antient poets and poetry, in which it is said to have been three hundred old. Fortunately for modern poetry, this republication suggested it to the notice of Prior, who perhaps from the same source might [Page 140] have adopted or confirmed his hypothesis, that it was coeval with the commencement of the fifteenth century.

Whoever was the original inventor of this little dramatic dia­logue, he has shewn no common skill in contriving a plan, which powerfully detains our attention, and interests the pas­sions, by a constant succession of suspence and pleasure, of anxiety and satisfaction. Betwixt hopes perpetually disappointed, and solicitude perpetually relieved, we know not how to determine the event of a debate, in which new difficulties still continue to be raised, and are almost as soon removed. In the midst of this vicissitude of feelings, a striking contrast of character is artfully formed, and uniformly supported, between the seeming unkind­ness and ingratitude of the man, and the unconquerable attach­ment and fidelity of the woman, whose amiable compliance un­expectedly defeats every objection, and continually furnishes new matter for our love and compassion. At length, our fears subside in the triumph of suffering innocence and patient sincerity. The Man, whose hard speeches had given us so much pain, suddenly surprises us with a change of sentiment, and becomes equally an object of our admiration and esteem. In the disentan­glement of this distressful tale, we are happy to find, that all his cruelty was tenderness, and his inconstancy the most invari­able truth; his levity an ingenious artifice, and his perversity the friendly disguise of the firmest affection. He is no longer an unfortunate exile, the profligate companion of the thieves and ruffians of the forest, but an opulent earl of Westmoreland; and promises, that the lady, who is a baron's daughter, and whose constancy he had proved by such a series of embarrassing proposals, shall instantly be made the partner of his riches and honours. Nor should we forget to commend the invention of the poet, in imagining the modes of trying the lady's patience, and in feigning so many new situations: which, at the same time, open a way to description, and to a variety of new scenes and images.

I cannot help observing here, by the way, that Prior has misconceived [Page 141] and essentially marred his poet's design, by softening the sternness of the Man, which could not be intended to admit of any degree of relaxation. Henry's hypocrisy is not charac­teristically nor consistently sustained. He frequently talks in too respectful and complaisant a style. Sometimes he calls Emma my tender maid, and my beauteous Emma; he fondly dwells on the ambrosial plenty of her flowing ringlets gracefully wreathed with variegated ribbands, and expatiates with rapture on the charms of her snowy bosom, her slender waist, and harmony of shape. In the antient poem, the concealed lover never abates his affectation of rigour and reserve, nor ever drops an expres­sion which may tend to betray any traces of tenderness. He retains his severity to the last, in order to give force to the conclusion of the piece, and to heighten the effect of the final declaration of his love. Thus, by diminishing the opposition of interests, and by giving too great a degree of uniformity to both characters, the distress is in some measure destroyed by Prior. For this reason, Henry, during the course of the dia­logue, is less an object of our aversion, and Emma of our pity. But these are the unavoidable consequences of Prior's plan, who presupposes a long connection between the lovers, which is at­tended with the warmest professions of a reciprocal passion. Yet this very plan suggested another reason, why Prior should have more closely copied the cast of his original. After so many mutual promises and protestations, to have made Henry more obdurate, would have enhanced the sufferings and the sincerity of the amiable Emma.

It is highly probable, that the metrical romances of RICHARD CUER DE LYON, GUY EARL OF WARWICK, and SYR BEVYS OF SOUTHAMPTON, were modernised in this reign from more an­tient and simple narrations. The first was printed by Wynkyn de Worde, in 1528 h. The second without date, but about the same time, by William Copland. I mean that which begins thus,

[Page 142]
Ithen the tyme that God was borne,
And cryst [...]ndome was set and sworne.

With this colophon. ‘"Here endeth the booke of the most victoryous prynce Guy earle of Warwyk. Imprinted at Lon­don in Lothbury, over against saynt Margaret's church by Wyllyam Copland i."’ Richard Pinson prin [...]ed SIR BEVYS without date. Many quarto prose romances were printed be­tween the years 1510 and 1540 k. Of these, KYNGE APPOLYN OF THYRE is not one of the worst.

In the year 1542, as it seems, Robert Wyer printed, ‘"Here begynneth a lytell boke named the SCOLE HOWSE. wherein every man may rede a goodly Prayer of the condycyons of women."’ Within the leaf is a border of naked women. This is a satire against the female sex. The writer was wise enough to suppress his name, as we may judge from the following passage.

Trewly some men there be,
That lyve alwaye in greate horroure;
And say, it goth by destenye
To hange or wed, both hath one houre:
And whether it be, I am well sure,
Hangynge is better of the twayne,
Sooner done, and shorter payne.

In the year 1521, Wynkyn de Worde printed a sett of Christ­mas Carols l. I have seen a fragment of this scarce book, and it preserves this colophon. ‘"Thus endeth the Christmasse carolles newly imprinted at London in the Flete-strete at the sygne of the sonne by Wynkyn de Worde. The yere of our Lorde, M. D. XXI m."’ These were festal chansons for enlivening [Page 143] the merriments of the Christmas celebrity: and not such religious songs as are current at this day with the common people under the same title, and which were substituted by those ene­mies of innocent and useful mirth the puritans. The boar's head soused, was antiently the first dish on Christmas day, and was carried up to the principal table in the Hall with great state and solemnity. Hollinshead says, that in the year 1170, upon the day of the young prince's coronation, king Henry the first ‘"served his sonne at the table as sewer, bringing up the BORES HEAD with trumpets before it according to the manner n."’ For this indispensable ceremony, as also for others of that season, there was a Carol, which Wynkyn de Worde has given us in the miscellany just mentioned, as it was sung in his time, with the title, ‘"A CAROL bryngyng in the bores head."’

Caput Apri defero,
Reddens laudes Domino.
The bores head in hande bringe I,
With garlandes gay and rosemary.
I pray you all synge merely,
Qui estis in convivio.
The bores head, I understande,
Is the chefe servyceo in this lande:
Loke wherever it be fande p
Servite cum cantico.
Be gladde lordes, both more and lasse q,
For this hath ordayned our stewarde
To chere you all this christmasse,
The bores head with mustarde.

[Page 144] This carol, yet with many innovations, is retained at Queen's college in Oxford. Other antient Christmas carols occur with Latin Burthens or Latin intermixtures. As thus,

Puer nobis natus est de Virgine Maria.
Be glad lordynges, be the more or lesse,
I brynge you tydynges of gladnesse r.

The Latin scraps were banished from these jocund hymns, when the Reformation had established an English liturgy. At length appeared, ‘"Certaine of David's Psalmes intended for Christmas Carolls fitted to the most sollempne tunes every where fami­liarlie used, by William Slatyer, printed by Robert Yong 1630 s."’

It was impossible that the Reformation of religion could escape without its rhyming libels. Accordingly, among others, we have, ‘"An Answer to a papystical exhortation, pretending to avoyd false doctrine, under that colour to mayntayne the same,"’ printed in 1548, and beginning,

Every pildet pedlar
Will be a medlar.

In the year 1533, a proclamation was promulged, prohibiting evil-disposed persons to preach, either in public or private, ‘"After their own braine, and by playing of enterludes, and printing of false fond bookes, ballades, rhymes, and other lewd treatyses in the English tongue, concerning doctrines in matters now in question and controversie, &c u."’ But this popular mode of attack, which all understood, and in which the idle and unlearned could join, appears to have been more powerful than royal interdictions and parliamentary censures.

In the year 1540, Thomas lord Cromwell, during the short [Page 145] interval which Henry's hasty passion for Catharine Howard per­mitted between his commitment and execution, was insulted in a ballad written by a defender of the declining cause of popery, who certainly shewed more zeal than courage, in reproaching a disgraced minister and a dying man. This satire, however un­seemly, gave rise to a religious controversy in verse, which is preserved in the archives of the antiquarian society.

I find a poem of thirty octave stanzas, printed in 1546, called the DOWFAL OF ANTICHRISTES MAS, or Mass, in which the nameless satirist is unjustly severe on the distresses of that inge­nious class of mechanics who got their living by writing and or­namenting service-books for the old papistic worship, now grow­ing into decay and disuse; insinuating at the same time, in a strain of triumph, the great blow their craft had received, by the diminution of the number of churches in the dissolution of the monasteries w. It is, however, certain, that this busy and lucrative occupation was otherwise much injured by the inven­tion and propagation of typography, as several catholic rituals were printed in England: yet still they continued to employ [Page 146] writers and illuminators for this purpose. The finest and the latest specimen of this sort I have seen, is Cardinal Wolsey's LECTIONARY, now preserved at Christ-church in Oxford, a prodigious folio on vellum, written and embellished with great splendor and beauty by the most elegant artists, either for the use of his own private chapel, or for the magnificent chapel which he had projected for his college, and peculiarly charac­teristic of that prelate's predominant ideas of ecclesiastic pomp.

Wynkyn de Worde printed a TRETISE OF MERLYN, or his prophesies in verse, in 1529. Another appeared by John Haw­kyns, in 1533. Metrical and prosaic prophesies attributed to the magician Merlin, all originating from Geoffrey of Mon­mouth's historical romance, and of oriental growth, are nume­rous and various. Merlin's predictions were successively accom­modated by the minstrel-poets to the politics of their own times. There are many among the Cotton manuscripts, both in French and English, and in other libraries x. Laurence Minot above-cited, who wrote about 1360, and in the northern dialect, has applied some of them to the numerous victories of Edward the third y. As thus.

Men may rede in Romance z ryght,
Of a grete clerke that MERLIN hight:
Ful many bokes er of him wreten,
Als thir clerkes wele may witten a;
And ȝitb in many prive nokes c
May men find of Merlin bokes.
Merlin said thus with his his mouth,
Out of the North into the Sowth,
[Page 147] Suld cum a Bared over the se,
That suld mak many men to fle;
And in the se, he said, ful right,
Suld he schewe ful mekill myght:
And in France he suld bigin f
To make tham wrath that are thare in:
Untill the se his taile reche sale g,
All folk of France to mekill bale h.
Thus have I mater for to make
For a nobill Princei sake.
Help me, God, my wit is thin k,
Now LAURENCE MINOT will bigin.
A Bore is broght on bankes bare l,
With ful batail bifor his brest,
For Johnm of France will he noght spare
In Normandy to take his rest.—
At Cressy whan tha [...] brak the brig n,
That saw Edward with both his ine o;
Than liked him no langer to lig p,
Ilk Inglis man on others rig q;
Over that watir er thai went r,
To batail er thai baldly big,
With brade ax s, and with bowes bent,
With bent bowes thai war ful bolde,
For to fell oft the Frankish men.
Thai gertu them lig with cares cold.
Full sariw was sir Philipx then:
[Page 148] He saw the town of Ferrumy bren z,
And folk for ferd war fast fleand a:
The teres he let ful rathlyb ren
Out of his eghen c, I understand.
Than cum Philip, ful redy dight,
Toward the toun with all his rowt;
With him come mani a kumly knight,
And all umsetc the Boar obout:
The Boar made them ful law to lout,
And delt tham knokkes to thair mede d,
He gert tham stumbell that war stowt.
Thar helpid noather staf ne stede e.
Stedes strong bileved still f
Biside Cressy opon the grene g.
Sir Philip wanted all his will
That was wele on his semblandh sene,
With spere and schelde, and helmis schene i,
Thai Bare than durst thai noght habide k.
The king of Bemel was cant and kene m,
Bot thaire he left both play and pride.
Pride in prese ne prais I noght n.
Omong thair princes proud in pall,
Princes should be well bithoght o
When kinges suld them tellp Counsaill call.

[Page 149] The same boar, that is, Edward the third, is introduced by Minot as resisting the Scottish invasion in 1347, at Nevil's cross near Durham p.

Sir David the Bruse q
Was at distance,
When Edward the baliolfe r,
Radef with his lance:
[Page 150] The north end of Ingland,
Teached him to dance,
When he was met on the more,
With mekill mischance.
Sir Philip the Valayce,
May him not avance s,
The flowres that faire wer,
Ert fallen in France!
The flowres er now fallen,
That fersu wer and fell,
A Barew with his bataille,
Has done tham to dwell.
Sir David the Bruse,
Said he sulde fonde x
To ride thurgh all Ingland,
Wold he noght wonde y:
At the Westminster Hall,
Sulde his stedes stonde,
Whils oure king Edward
War out of the londe z.

Also in Edward's victory over the Spaniards in a sea-fight, in 1350, a part of Minot's general subject.

I wold noght spare for to speke,
Wist I to spede,
Of wight men with wapin a,
And worthly in wede.
That now are driven to dale b,
And ded all thaire dede,
Thai saile in the sea-gronde c,
[Page 151] Fisches for to fede!
Feled Fisches thai fede,
For all thaire grete fare e,
It was in the waniand f
That thai come thare.
Thai sailed furth in the Swin
In a somers tyde,
With trompès and taburnes g,
And mikell other pryde h.

I have seen one of Merlin's PROPHESIES, probably translated from the French, which begins thus.

Listeneth now to Merlin's saw,
And I woll tell to aw i,
What he wrat for men to come,
Nother by greffe ne by plume k.

The public pageantries of this reign are proofs of the grow­ing familiarity and national diffusion of classical learning. I [Page 152] will select an instance, among others, from the shews exhibited with great magnificence at the coronation of queen Anne Boleyn, in the year 1533. The procession to Westminster abbey, began from the Tower; and the queen, in passing through Grace­church street, was entertained with a representation of mount Parnassus. The fountain of Helicon, by a bold fiction unknown to the bards of antiquity, ran in four streams of Rhenish wine from a bason of white marble. On the summit of the moun­tain sate Apollo, and at his feet Calliope. On either side of the declivity were arranged four of the Muses, playing on their respective [Page 153] musical instruments. Under them were written epi­grams and poesies in golden letters, in which every Muse praised the queen, according to her character and office. At the Conduit in Cornhill appeared the three Graces; before whom, with no great propriety, was the spring of Grace perpetually running wine. But when a conduit came in the way, a religious allusion was too tempting and obvious to be omitted. Before the spring, however, [...]ate a poet, describing in metre the properties or func­tions of every Grace: and then each of these four Graces allotted [Page 154] in a short speech to the queen, the virtue or accomplish­ment over which she severally presided. At the Conduit in Cheapside, as my chronicler says, she was saluted with ‘"a rich pageaunt full of melodie and song."’ In this pageant were Pallas, Juno, and Venus: before them stood Mercury, who pre­sented to her majesty, in the name of the three goddesses, a golden ball or globe divided into three parts, signifying wisdom, riches, and felicity. At entering saint Paul's gate, an antient portal leading into the church-yard on the east, and long since destroyed, three ladies richly attired showered on her head wafers, in which were contained Latin distichs. At the eastern side of saint Paul's Church-yard, two hundred scholars of saint Paul's School, addressed her in chosen and apposite passages from the Roman poets, translated into English rhymes. On the leads of saint Martin's church stood a choir of boys and men, who sung, not spiritual hymns, but new balads in praise of her ma­jesty. On the conduit without Ludgate, where the arms and angels had been refreshed, was erected a tower with four turrets, within each of which was placed a Cardinal Virtue, symboli­cally habited. Each of these personages in turn uttered an ora­tion, promising to protect and accompany the queen on all occa­sions l. Here we see the pagan history and mythology predomi­nating in those spectacles, which were once furnished from the Golden Legend. Instead of saints, prophets, apostles, and con­fessors, we have Apollo, Mercury, and the Muses. Instead of religious canticles, and texts of scripture, which were usually introduced in the course of these ceremonies, we are entertained with profane poetry, translations from the classics, and occasional verses; with exhortations, not delivered by personified doctors of the church, but by the heathen divinities.

[Page 155] It may not be foreign to our purpose, to give the reader some distinct idea of the polite amusements of this reign, among which, the Masque, already mentioned in general terms, seems to have held the first place. It chiefly consisted of music, dancing, gaming, a banquet, and a display of grotesque personages and fantastic dresses. The performers, as I have hinted, were often the king, and the chief of the nobility of both sexes, who under proper disguises executed some preconcerted strategem, which ended in mirth and good humour. With one of these shews, in 1530, the king formed a scheme to surprise cardinal Wolsey, while he was celebrating a splendid banquet at his palace of Whitehall m. At night his majesty in a masque, with twelve more masquers all richly but strangely dressed, privately landed from Westminster at Whitehall stairs. At landing, several small pieces of canon were fired, which the king had before ordered to be placed on the shore near the house. The cardinal, who was sepa­rately seated at the banquet in the presence-chamber under the cloth of state, a great number of ladies and lords being seated at the side-tables, was alarmed at this sudden and unusual noise: and immediately ordered lord Sandys, the king's chamberlain, who was one of the guests, and in the secret, to enquire the reason. Lord Sandys brought answer, that thirteen foreign no­blemen of distinction were just arrived, and were then waiting in the great hall below; having been drawn thither by the re­port of the cardinal's magnificent banquet, and of the beautiful ladies which were present at it. The cardinal ordered them immediately into the banquetting-room, to which they were conducted from the hall with twenty new torches and a concert of drums and fifes. After a proper refreshment, they requested in the French language to dance with the ladies, whom they kissed, and to play with them at mum-chance n; producing at the same time a great golden cup filled with many hundred crowns. Having played for sometime with the ladies, they de [...]ignedly [Page 156] lost all that remained in the cup to the cardinal; whose sagacity was not easily to be deceived, and who now began, from some circumstances, to suspect one of them to be the king. On finding their plot in danger, they answered, ‘"If your grace can point him out, he will readily discover himself."’ The cardinal pointed to a masque with a black beard, but he was mistaken, for it was sir Edward Nevil. At this, the king could not forbear laughing aloud: and pulling off his own and sir Edward Nevil's masque, convinced the cardinal, with much arch complaisance, that he had for once guessed wrong. The king and the masquers then retired into another apartment to change their apparel: and in the meantime the banquet was re­moved, and the table covered afresh with perfumed clothes. Soon afterwards the king, with his company, returned, and took his seat under the cardinal's canopy of state. Immediately two hundred dishes of the most costly cookery and confectionary were served up; the contrivance and success of the royal joke afforded much pleasant conversation, and the night was spent in dancing, dice-playing, banketting and other triumphs o. The old chronicler Edward Hall, a cotemporary and a curious observer, acquaints us, that at Greenwich, in 1512, ‘"on the daie of the Epiphanie at night, the king with eleven others was disguised after the maner of Italie, called a Maske, a thing not seene before in England: they were apparalled in garments long and broad, wrought all with gold, with visors and caps of gold. And after the banket doone, these maskers came in, with six gentlemen disguised in silke, bearing staffe-torches and desired the ladies to danse; some were content, and some refused; and after they had dansed and communed togither, as the fashion of the maske is, they tooke their leave and de­parted, and so did the queene and all the ladies p."’

I do not find that it was a part of their diversion in these en­tertainments to display humour and character. Their chief aim [Page 157] seems to have been, to surprise, by the ridiculous and exag­gerated oddity of the visors, and by the singularity and splendor of the dresses. Every thing was out of nature and propriety. Frequently the Masque was attended with an exhibition of some gorgeous machinery, resembling the wonders of a modern pan­tomime. For instance, in the great hall of the palace, the usual place of performance, a vast mountain covered with tall trees arose suddenly, from whose opening caverns issued hermits, pilgrims, shepherds, knights, damsels, and gypsies, who being regaled with spices and wine danced a morisco, or morris-dance. They were then again received into the mountain, which with a symphony of rebecs and recorders closed its caverns; and tumbling to pieces, was replaced by a ship in full sail, or a castle besieged. To be more particular. The following device was shewn in the hall of the palace at Greenwich. A castle was reared, with numerous towers, gates, and battlements; and fur­nished with every military preparation for sustaining a long siege. On the front was inscribed Le fortresse dangereux. From the windows looked out six ladies, cloathed in the richest russet sattin, ‘"laid all over with leaves of gold, and every one knit with laces of blew silk and gold, on their heads coi [...]s and caps all of golde."’ This castle was moved about the hall; and when the queen had viewed it for a time, the king entered the hall with five knights, in embroidered vestments, spangled and plated with gold, of the most curious and costly workmanship. They assaulted the castle; and the six ladies, finding them to be champions of redoubted prowess, after a parley, yielded their perilous fortress, descended, and danced with their assailants. The ladies then led the knights into the castle, which imme­diately vanished, and the company retired q. Here we see the representation of an action. But all these magnificent mum­meries, which were their evening-amusements on festivals, not­withstanding a parley, which my historian calls a communication, [Page 158] is here mentioned, were yet in dumb shew r, and without dia­logue.

But towards the latter part of Henry's reign, much of the old cumbersome state began to be laid aside. This I collect from a set of new regulations given to the royal houshold about the year 1526, by cardinal Wolsey. In the Chapter For keeping the Hall and ordering of the Chapel, it is recited, that by the frequent intermission and disuse of the solemnities of dining and supping in the great hall of the palace, the proper officers had almost forgot their duty, and the manner of conducting that very long and intricate ceremonial. It is therefore ordered, that when his majesty is not at Westminster, and with regard to his palaces in the country, the formalities of the Hall, which ought not en­tirely to fall into desuetude, shall be at least observed, when he is at Windsor, Beaulieu, or Newhall s, in Essex, Richmond, Hamp­ton-court, Greenwich, Eltham, and Woodstock. And that at these places only, the whole choir of the chapel shall attend. This attempt to revive that which had began to cease from the nature of things, and from the growth of new manners, per­haps had but little or no lasting effect. And with respect to the Chapel, my record adds, that when the king is on journies or progresses, only six singing boys and six gentlemen of the choir shall make a part of the royal retinue; who ‘"daylie in absence of the [...]esidue of the chapel shall have a Masse of our Ladie bi [...]ore noon, and on Sondaies and holidaies, masse of the day besides our Lady-masse, and an anthempne in the afternoone: [Page 159] for which purpose, no great carriage of either vestiments or bookes shall require t."’ Henry never seems to have been so truly happy, as when he was engaged in one of these progresses: in other words, moving from one seat to another, and enjoying his ease and amusements in a state of royal relaxation. This we may collect from a curious passage in Hollinshead; who had pleased and perhaps informed us less, had he never deserted the dignity of the historian. ‘"From thence the whole court remooved to Windsor, then beginning his progresse, and exercising himselfe dailie in shooting, singing, dansing, wrestling, casting of the barre, plaieing at the recorders, flute, virginals, in setting of songes, and making of ballades.—And when he came to Okingu there were kept both justes turneies w."’ I make no apology for these seeming digressions. The manners and the poetry of a country are so nearly connected, that they mutually throw light on each other.

The same connection subsists between the state of poetry and of the arts; to which we may now recall the reader's attention with as little violation of our general subject.

We are taught in the mythology of the antients, that the three Graces were produced at a birth. The meaning of the fable is, that the three most beautiful imitative arts were born and grew up together. Our poetry now beginning to be divested of its mo­nastic barbarism, and to advance towards elegance, was accompa­nied by proportionable improvements in Painting and Music. Henry employed many capital painters, and endeavoured to invite Raphael and Titian into England. Instead of allegorical tapestry, many of the royal apartments were adorned with historical pic­tures. Our familiarity with the manners of Italy, and affecta­tion of Italian accomplishments, influenced the tones and enriched [Page 160] the modulation of our musical composition. Those who could read the sonnets of Petrarch must have relished the airs of Palestrina. At the same time, Architecture, like Milton's lion pawing to get free, made frequent efforts to disentangle itself from the massy incumbrances of the Gothic manner; and began to catch the correct graces, and to copy the true mag­nificence, of the Grecian and Roman models. Henry was himself a great builder; and his numerous edifices, although constructed altogether on the antient system, are sometimes in­terspersed with chaste ornaments and graceful mouldings, and often marked with a legitimacy of proportion, and a purity of design, before unattempted. It was among the literary plans of Leland, one of the most classical scholars of this age, to write an account of Henry's palaces, in imitation of Procopius, who is said to have described the palaces of the emperor Justinian. Frequent symptoms appeared, that perfection in every work of taste was at no great distance. Those clouds of ignorance which yet remained, began now to be illuminated by the approach of the dawn of truth.

SECT. XXVII.

THE reformation of our church produced an alteration for a time in the general system of study, and changed the character and subjects of our poetry. Every mind, both learned and unlearned, was busied in religious speculation; and every pen was employed in recommending, illustrating, and familiari­sing the Bible, which was now laid open to the people.

The poetical annals of king Edward the sixth, who removed those chains of bigottry which his brother Henry had only loosened, are marked with metrical translations of various parts of the sacred scripture. Of these the chief is the versification of the Psalter by Sternhold and Hopkins: a performance, which has acquired an importance, and consequently claims a place in our series, not so much from any merit of its own, as from the circumstances with which it is connected.

It is extraordinary, that the protestant churches should be in­debted to a country in which the reformation had never begun to make any progress, and even to the indulgence of a society which remains to this day the grand bulwark of the catholic theology, for a very distinguishing and essential part of their ritual.

About the year 1540, Clement Marot, a valet of the bed­chamber to king Francis the first, was the favorite poet of France. This writer, having attained an unusual elegance and facility of style, added many new embellishments to the rude state of the French poetry. It is not the least of his praises, that La Fontaine used to call him his master. He was the inventor [Page 162] of the rondeau, and the restorer of the madrigal: but he became chiefly eminent for his pastorals, ballads, fables, elegies, epi­grams, and translations from Ovid and Petrarch. At length, being tired of the vanities of profane poetry, or rather privately tinctured with the principles of Lutheranism, he attempted, with the assistance of his friend Theodore Beza, and by the en­couragement of the professor of Hebrew in the university of Paris, a version of David's Psalms into French rhymes. This translation, which did not aim at any innovation in the public worship, and which received the sanction of the Sorbonne as containing nothing contrary to sound doctrine, he dedicated to his master Francis the first, and to the Ladies of France. In the dedication to the Ladies or les Dames de France, whom he had often before addressed in the tenderest strains of passion or com­pliment, he seems anxious to deprecate the raillery which the new tone of his versification was likely to incur, and is embar­rassed how to find an apology for turning saint. Conscious of his apostacy from the levities of life, in a spirit of religious gallantry, he declares that his design is to add to the happiness of his fair readers, by substituting divine hymns in the place of chansons d' amour, to inspire their susceptible hearts with a passion in which there is no torment, to banish that fickle and fantastic deity CUPID from the world, and to fill their apartments with the praises, not of the little god, but of the true Jehovah.

E voz doigts sur les espinettes
Pour dire SAINCTES CHANSONETTES.

He adds, that the golden age would now be restored, when we should see, the peasant at his plough, the carman in the streets, and the mechanic in his shop, solacing their toils with psalms and canticles: and the shepherd and sheperdess, reposing in the shade, and teaching the rocks to echo the name of the Creator.

Le Laboureur a sa charruë,
Le Charretier parmy le ruë,
Et l'Artisan a en sa boutique,
Avecques un PSEAUME ou CANTIQUE,
En son labour se soulager.
Heureux qui orra le Berger
Et la Begere au bois estans,
Fair que rochers et estangs,
Apres eux chantant la hauteur
Du sainct nom de createur a.

Marot's Psalms soon eclipsed the brilliancy of his madrigals and sonnets. Not suspecting how prejudicial the predominant rage of psalm-singing might prove to the antient religion of Europe, the catholics themselves adopted these sacred songs as serious ballads, and as a more rational species of domestic merri­ment. Thy were the common accompaniments of the fiddle. They were sold so rapidly, that the printers could not supply the public with copies. In the festive and splendid court of Francis the first, of a sudden nothing was heard but the psalms of Clement Marot. By each of the royal family and the principal nobility of the court a psalm was chosen, and fitted to the ballad-tune which each liked best. The dauphin prince Henry, who delighted in hunting, was fond of Ainsi qu'on oit le cerf bruire, or, Like as the Hart desireth the water-brooks, which he constantly sung in going out to the chase. Madame de Valenti­nois, between whom and the young prince there was an attach­ment, took Du fond de ma pensée, or, From the depth of my heart, O Lord. The queen's favorite was, Ne uveilles pas, O Sire, that is, O Lord, rebuke me not in thine indignation, which she sung to a fashionable jig. Antony king of Navarre sung, Revenge moy, pren le querelle, or, Stand up, O Lord, to revenge my quarrel, to [Page 164] the air of a dance of Poitou b. It was on very different princi­ples that psalmody flourished in the gloomy court of Cromwell. This fashion does not seem in the least to have diminished the gaiety and good humour of the court of Francis.

At this period John Calvin, in opposition to the discipline and doctrines of Rome, was framing his novel church at Ge­neva: in which the whole substance and form of divine worship was reduced to praying, preaching, and singing. In the last of these three, he chose to depart widely from the catholic usage: and, either because he thought that novelty was sure to succeed, that the practice of antiphonal chanting was superstitious, or that the people were excluded from bearing a part in the more solemn and elaborate performance of ecclesiastical music, or that the old papistic hymns were unedifying, or that verse was better remembered than prose, he projected, with the advice of Luther, a species of religious song, consisting of portions of the psalms intelligibly translated into the vernacular language, and adapted to plain and easy melodies, which all might learn, and in which all might join. This scheme, either by design or acci­dent, was luckily seconded by the publication of Marot's metri­cal psalms at Paris, which Calvin immediately introduced into his congregation at Geneva. Being set to simple and almost mo­notonous notes by Guillaume de Franc, they were soon estab­lished as the principal branch in that reformer's new devotion, and became a characteristical mark or badge of the Calvinistic worship and profession. Nor were they sung only in his churches. They exhilarated the convivial assemblies of the Calvinists, were commonly heard in the streets, and accompanied the labours of the artificer. The weavers and woollen manufacturers of Flanders, many of whom left the loom and entered into the ministry, are said to have been the capital performers into this science. At length Marot's psalms formed an appendix to the catechism of Geneva, and were interdicted to the catholics under the most [Page 165] severe penalties. In the language of the orthodox, psalm-singing and heresy were synonimous terms.

It was Calvin's system of reformation, not only to strip reli­gion of its superstitious and ostensible pageantries, of crucifixes, images, tapers, superb vestments, and splendid processions, but of all that was estimable in the sight of the people, and even of every simple ornament, every significant symbol, and decent ceremony; in a word, to banish every thing from his church which attracted or employed the senses, or which might tend to mar the purity of an abstracted adoration, and of a mental in­tercourse with the deity. It is hard to determine, how Calvin could reconcile the use of singing, even when purged from the corruptions and abuses of popery, to so philosophical a plan of worship. On a parallel principle, and if any artificial aids to devotion were to be allowed, he might at least have retained the use of pictures in the church. But a new sect always draws its converts from the multitude and the meanest of the people, who can have no relish for the more elegant externals. Calvin well knew that the manufacturers of Germany were no judges of pictures. At the same time it was necessary that his congrega­tion should be kept in good humour by some kind of pleasurable gratification and allurement, which might qualify and enliven the attendance on the more rigid duties of praying and preach­ing. Calvin therefore, intent as he was to form a new church on a severe model, had yet too much sagacity to exclude every auxiliary to devotion. Under this idea, he permitted an exercise, which might engage the affections, without violating the simpli­city of his worship: and sensible that his chief resources were in the rabble of a republic, and availing himself of that natural propensity which prompts even vulgar minds to express their more animated feelings in rhyme and music, he conceived a mode of universal psalmody, not too refined for common capa­cities, and fitted to please the populace. The rapid propagation of Calvin's religion, and his numerous proselytes, are a strong proof of his address in planning such a sort of service. France [Page 166] and Germany were instantly infatuated with a love of psalm­singing: which being admirably calculated to kindle and diffuse the flame of fanaticism, was peculiarly serviceable to the pur­poses of faction, and frequently served as the trumpet to rebel­lion. These energetic hymns of Geneva, under the conduct of the Calvinistic preachers, excited and supported a variety of po­pular insurrections; they filled the most flourishing cities of the Low-countries with sedition and tumult, and fomented the fury which defaced many of the most beautiful and venerable churches of Flanders.

This infectious frenzy of sacred song soon reached England, at the very critical point of time, when it had just embraced the reformation: and the new psalmody was obtruded on the new English liturgy by some few officious zealots, who favoured the discipline of Geneva, and who wished to abolish, not only the choral mode of worship in general, but more particularly to suppress the TE DEUM, BENEDICTUS, MAGNIFICAT, JUBI­LATE, NUNC DIMITTIS, and the rest of the liturgic hymns, which were supposed to be contaminated by their long and antient connection with the Roman missal, or at least in their prosaic form, to be unsuitable to the new system of worship.

Although Wyat and Surrey had before made translations of the Psalms into metre, Thomas Sternhold was the first whose metrical version of the Psalms was used in the church of Eng­land. Sternhold was a native of Hampshire, and probably edu­cated at Winchester college. Having passed some time at Oxford, he became groom of the robes to king Henry the eighth. In this department, either his diligent services or his knack at rhyming so pleased the king, that his majesty bequeathed him a legacy of one hundred marks. He continued in the same office under Edward the sixth, and is said to have acquired some degree of reputation about the court for his poetry. Being of a serious disposition, and an enthusiast to reformation, he was much of­fended at the lascivious ballads which prevailed among the cour­tiers: and, with a laudable design to check these indecencies, undertook [Page 167] a metrical version of the Psalter, ‘"thinking thereby, says Antony Wood, that the courtiers would sing them instead of their sonnets, but did not, only some few excepted c."’ Here was the zeal, if not the success, of his fellow labourer Clement Marot. A singular coincidence of circumstances is, notwith­standing, to be remarked on this occasion. Vernacular versions for general use of the Psalter were first published both in France and England, by laymen, by court-poets, and by servants of the court. Nor were the respective translations entirely completed by themselves: and yet they translated nearly an equal number of psalms, Marot having versified fifty, and Sternhold fifty-one. Sternhold died in the year 1549. His fifty-one psalms were printed the same year by Edward Whitchurch, under the fol­lowing title. ‘"All such Psalms of David as Thomas Stern­holde late grome of the kinges Maiestyes robes did in his ly [...]e tyme drawe into Englysshe metre."’ They are without the musical notes, as is the second edition in 1552. He probably lived to prepare the first edition for the press, as it is dedicated by himself to king Edward the sixth.

Cotemporary with Sternhold, and his coadjutor, was John Hopkins: of whose life nothing more is known, than that he was a clergyman and a schoolmaster of Suffolk, and perhaps a graduate at Oxford about the year 1544. Of his abilities as a teacher of the classics, he has left a specimen in some Latin stanzas prefixed to FOX'S MARTYROLOGY. He is rather a better English poet than Sternhold; and translated fifty eight of the psalms, distinguished by the initials of his name.

Of the rest of the contributors to this undertaking, the chief, at least in point of rank and learning, was William Whytting­ham, promoted by Robert earl of Leicester to the deanery of Durham, yet not without a strong reluctance to comply with the use of the canonical habiliments. Among our reli­gious exiles in the reign of Mary, he was Calvin's principal [Page 168] favorite, from whom he received ordination. So pure was his faith, that he was thought worthy to succeed to the congrega­tion of Geneva, superintended by Knox, the Scotch reformer; who, from a detestation of idols, proceeded to demolish the churches in which they were contained. It was one of the natural consequences of Whyttingham's translation from Knox's pastorship at Geneva to an English deanery, that he destroyed or removed many beautiful and harmless monuments of antient art in his cathedral. To a man, who had so highly spiritualised his religious conceptions, as to be convinced that a field, a street, or a barn, were fully sufficient for all the operations of chris­tian worship, the venerable structures raised by the magnificent piety of our ancestors could convey no ideas of solemnity, and had no other charms than their ample endowments. Beside the psalms he translated d, all which bear his initials, by way of in­novating still further on our established formularly, he versified the Decalogue, the Nicene, Apostolic, and Athanasian Creeds, the Lord's Prayer, the TE DEUM, the Song of the three Children, with other hymns which follow the book of psalmody. How the Ten Commandments and the Athanasian Creed, to say no­thing of some of the rest, should become more edifying and better suited to common use, or how they could receive im­provement in any respect or degree, by being reduced into rhym [...], it is not easy to perceive. But the real design was, to render that more tolerable which could not be entirely removed, to accommodate every part of the service to the psalmodic tone, and to clothe our whole liturgy in the garb of Geneva. All these, for he was a lover of music, were sung in Whytting­ham's church of Durham under his own directions. Heylin says, that from vicinity of situation, he was enabled to lend con­siderable assistance to his friend Knox in the introduction of the presbyterian hierarchy into Scotland. I must indulge the reader with a stanza or two of this dignified fanatic's divine poetry [Page 169] from his Creeds and the Decalogue. From the Athanasian Creed.

The Father God is, God the Son,
God Holy Ghost also,
Yet are there not three Gods in all
But one God and no m [...].

From the Apostolic Creed.

From thence shall he come for to judge,
All men both dead and quick;
I in the holy ghost believe,
And church that's catholick.

The Ten Commandments are thus closed.

Nor his man-servant, nor his maid,
Nor oxe, nor asse of his;
Nor any other thing that to
Thy neighbour proper is.

These were also versified by Clement Marot.

Twenty-seven of the psalms were turned into metre by Thomas Norton e, who perhaps was better employed, at least as a poet, in writing the tragedy of GORDOBUCKE in conjunction with lord Buckhurst. It is certain that in Norton's psalms we see none of those sublime strokes which sir Philip Sydney disco­vered in that venerable drama. He was of Sharpenhoe in Bed­fordshire, a barrister, and in the opinion and phraseology of the Oxford biographer, a bold and busy Calvinist about the begin­ning of the reign of queen Elisabeth. He was patronised by the Protector Somerset; at whose desire he translated an epistle addressed by Peter Martyr to Somerset, into English, in 1550. Under the same patronage he probably tran [...]lated also Calvin's Institutes.

[Page 170] Robert Wisdome, a protestant fugitive in the calamitous reign of queen Mary, afterwards archdeacon of Ely, and who had been nominated to an Irish bishoprick by king Edward the sixth, rendered the twenty-fifth psalm of this version f. But he is chiefly memorable for his metrical prayer, intended to be sung in the church, against the Pope and the Turk, of whom he seems to have conceived the most alarming apprehensions. It is probable, that he thought popery and mahometanism were equally dangerous to christianity, at least the most powerful and the sole enemies of our religion. This is the first stanza.

Preserve us, Lord, by thy dear word,
From POPE and TURK defend us, Lord!
Which both would thrust out of thy throne
Our Lord Jesus Christ, thy dear son!

Happily we have hitherto survived these two formidable evils! Among other orthodox wits, the facetious bishop Corbet has ridiculed these lines. He supposes himself seized with a sudden impulse to hear or to pen a puritanical hymn, and invokes the ghost of Robert Wisdome, as the most skilful poet in this mode of composition, to come and assist. But he advises Wisdome to steal back again to his tomb, which was in Carfax church at Oxford, silent and unperceived, for fear of being detected and intercepted by the Pope or the Turk. But I will produce Cor­bet's epigram, more especially as it contains a criticism written in the reign of Charles the first, on the style of this sort of poetry.

TO THE GHOST OF ROBERT WISDOME.

Thou once a body, now but ayre,
Arch-botcher of a psalm or prayer,
[Page 171] From Carfax come!
And patch us up a zealous lay,
With an old ever and for ay,
Or all and some.
Or such a spirit lend me,
As may a hymne down sende me
To purge my braine:
But, Robert, looke behind thee,
Lest TURK or POPE do find thee,
And go to bed againe g.
g
POEMS, Lond. 1647. duod. p. 49.

The entire version of the psalter was at length published by John Day, in 1562, attached for the first time to the common prayer, and entitled, ‘"The whole Booke of Psalmes collected into English metre by T. Sternhold, J. Hopkins, and others, conferred with the Ebrue, with apt Notes to [...]ing them withall."’ Calvin's music was intended to correspond with the general par­simonious spirit of his worship: not to captivate the passions, and seduce the mind, by a levity, a variety, or a richness of modulation, but to infuse the more sober and unravishing ecstasies. The music he permitted, although sometimes it had wonderful effects, was to be without grace, elegance, or ele­vation. These apt notes were about forty tunes, of one part only, and in one unisonous key; remarkable for a certain uni­form strain of sombrous gravity, and applicable to all the psalms in their turns, as the stanza and sense might allow. They also appear in the subsequent impressions, particularly of 1564, and 1577. They are believed to contain some of the original melo­dies, composed by French and German musicians. Many of them, particularly the celebrated one of the hundredth psalm, are the tunes of Goudimel and Le Jeune, who are among the first composers of Marot's French psalms h. Not a few were probably [Page 172] imported by the protestant manufacturers of cloth, of Flanders, and the Low Countries, who fled into England from the perse­cution of the Duke de Alva, and settled in those counties where their art now chiefly flourishes. It is not however un­likely, that some of our own musicians, who lived about the year 1562, and who could always tune their harps to the reli­gion of the times, such as Marbeck, Tallis, Tye, Parsons, and Munday, were employed on this occasion; yet under the restric­tion of conforming to the jejune and unadorned movements of the foreign composers. I [...]resume much of the primitive har­mony of all these antient tunes is now lost, by additions, varia­tions, and transpositions.

This version is said to be conferred with the Ebrue. But I am inclined to think, that the translation was altogether made from the vulgate text, either in Latin or English.

It is evident that the prose psalms of our liturgy were chiefly consulted and copied, by the perpetual assumption of their words and combinations: many of the stanza [...] are literally nothing more than the prose-verses put into rhyme. As thus,

Thus were they stained with the workes
Of their owne filthie way;
And with their owne inve [...]tions did
A whoring go astray i.

Whyttingham however, who had travelled to acquire the lite­rature then taught in the foreign universities, and who joined in the translation of Coverdale's Bible, was undoubtedly a scholar, and an adept in the Hebrew language.

It is certain that every attempt to clothe the sacred Scripture in verse, will have the effect of misrepresenting and debasing the dignity of the original. But this general inconvenience, arising from the nature of things, was not the only difficulty which our versifiers of the psalter had to encounter, in common [Page 173] with all other writers employed in a similar task. Allowing for the state of our language in the middle of the sixteenth century, they appear to have been but little qualified either by genius or accomplishments for poetical composition. It is for this reason that they have produced a translation entirely destitute of ele­gance, spirit, and propriety. The truth is, that they undertook this work, not so much from an ambition of literary fame, or a consciousness of abilities, as from motives of piety, and in compliance with the cast of the times. I presume I am com­municating no very new criticism when I observe, that in every part of this translation we are disgusted with a languor of versifi­cation, and a want of common prosody. The most exalted effusions of thanksgiving, and the most sublime imageries of the divine majesty, are lowered by a coldness of conception, weak­ened by frigid interpolations, and disfigured by a poverty of phraseology. Thomas Hopkins expostulates with the deity in these ludicrous, at least trivial, expressions.

Why doost withdrawe thy hand aback,
And hide it in thy lappe?
O plucke it out, and be not slack
To give thy foes a rappe k!

What writer who wished to diminish the might of the su­preme Being, and to expose the style and sentiments of Scripture, [Page 174] could have done it more skilfully, than by making David call upon God, not to consume his enemies by an irresistible blow, but to give them a rap? Although some shadow of an apology may be suggested for the word rap, that it had not then acquired its present burlesque acceptation, or the idea of a petty stroke, the vulgarity of the following phrase, in which the practice or profession of religion, or more particularly God's covenant with the Jews, is degraded to a trade, cannot easily be vindicated on any consideration of the fluctuating sense of words.

For why, their hearts were nothing bent
To him, nor to his trade l.

Nor is there greater delicacy or consistency in the following stanza.

Confound them that apply
And seeke to worke my shame;
And at my harme do laugh, and cry,
So, So, there goeth the game m.

The psalmist says, that God has placed the sun in the heavens, ‘"which cometh forth as a bridegroom out of his chamber."’ Here is a comparison of the sun rising, to a bridegroom; who, according to the Jewish custom, was ushered from his chamber at midnight, with great state, preceded by torches and music. Sternhold has thus metrified the passage n.

In them the Lord made for the sun,
A place of great renown,
Who like a bridegroom ready trimm'd
Doth from his chamber come.

The translator had better have spared his epithet to the bride­groom; which, even in the sense of ready-dressed, is derogatory to [Page 175] the idea of the comparison. But ready-trimm'd, in the language of that time, was nothing more than fresh-shaved. Sternhold as often impairs a splendid description by an impotent redundancy, as by an omission or contraction of the most important circum­stances.

The miraculous march of Jehovah before the Israelites through the wilderness in their departure from Egypt, with other marks of his omnipotence, is thus imaged by the inspired psalmist. ‘"O God, when thou wentest forth before the people, when thou wentest through the wilderness: the earth shook, and the heavens dropped at the presence of God; even as Sinai also was moved at the presence of God, who is the God of Israel. Thou, O God, sentedst a gracious rain upon thine inheritance, and refreshedst it when it was weary.—The chariots of God are twenty thousand, even thousands of an­gels; and the Lord is among them, as in the holy place of Sinai."’ Sternhold has thus represented these great ideas.

When thou didst march before thy folk
The Egyptians from among,
And brought them from the wildernes,
Which was both wide and long:
The earth did quake, the raine pourde downe,
Heard were great claps of thunder;
The mount Sinai shooke in such sorte,
As it would cleave in sunder.
Thy heritage with drops of rain
Abundantly was washt,
And if so be it barren was,
By thee it was refresht.
God's army is two millions,
Of warriours good and strong,
The Lord also in Sinai
Is present them among o.

If there be here any merit, it arises solely from preserving the expressions of the prose version. And the translator would have done better had he preserved more, and had given us no feeble or foreign enlargements of his own. He has shewn no inde­pendent skill or energy. When once he attempts to add or dilate, his weakness appears. It is this circumstance alone, which supports the two following well-known stanzas p.

The Lord descended from above,
And bowde the heavens high;
And underneath his feet he cast
The darknesse of the skie.
On Cherubs and on Cherubims
Full roiallie he rode;
And on the winges of all the windes
Came flying all abrode.

Almost the entire contexture of the prose is here literally transferred, unbroken and without transposition, allowing for the small deviations necessarily occasioned by the metre and rhyme. It may be said, that the translator has testified his judgment in retaining so much of the original, and proved he was sensible the passage needed not any adventitious ornament. But what may seem here to be judgment or even taste, I fear, was want of expression in himself. He only adopted what was almost ready done to his hand.

To the disgrace of sacred music, sacred poetry, and our established worship, these psalms still continue to be sung in [Page 177] the church of England. It is certain, had they been more poetically translated, they would not have been acceptable to the common people. Yet however they may be allowed to serve the purposes of private edification, in administering spiri­tual consolation to the manufacturer and mechanic, as they are extrinsic to the frame of our liturgy, and incompatible with the genius of our service, there is perhaps no im­propriety in wishing, that they were remitted and restrained to that church in which they sprung, and with whose character and constitution they seem so aptly to correspond. Whatever estimation in point of composition they might have attracted at their first appearance in a ruder age, and however instrumental they might have been at the infancy of the refor­mation in weaning the minds of men from the papistic ritual, all these considerations can now no longer support even a spe­cious argument for their being retained. From the circum­stances of the times, and the growing refinements of literature, of course they become obsolete and contemptible. A work grave, serious, and even respectable for its poetry, in the reign of Edward the sixth, at length in a cultivated age, has con­tracted the air of an absolute travestie. Voltaire observes, that in proportion as good taste improved, the psalms of Clement Marot inspired only disgust: and that although they charmed the court of Francis the first, they seemed only to be calculated for the populace in the reign of Lewis the fourteenth r.

To obviate these objections, attempts have been made from time to time to modernise this antient metrical version, and to render it more tolerable and intelligible by the substitution of more familiar modes of diction. But, to say nothing of the unskilfulness with which these arbitrary corrections have been conducted, by changing obsolete for known words, the texture and integrity of the original style, such as it was, has been de­stroyed: and many stanzas, before too naked and weak, like a [Page 178] plain old Gothic edifice stripped of its few signatures of anti­quity, have lost that little and almost only strength and support which they derived from antient phrases. Such alterations, even if executed with prudence and judgment, only corrupt what they endeavour to explain; and exhibit a motley performance, belonging to no character of writing, and which contains more improprieties than those which it professes to remove. Hearne is highly offended at these unwarrantable and incongruous emen­dations, which he pronounces to be abominable in any book, ‘"much more in a sacred work;"’ and is confident, that were Sternhold and Hopkins ‘"now living, they would be so far from owning what is ascribed to them, that they would proceed against the innovators as CHEATS s."’ It is certain, that this translation in its genuine and unsophisticated state, by ascertain­ing the signification of many radical words now perhaps undeser­vedly disused, and by displaying original modes of the English language, may justly be deemed no inconsiderable monument of our antient literature, if not of our antient poetry. In con­demning the practice of adulterating this primitive version, I would not be understood to recommend another in its place, en­tirely new. I reprobate any version at all, more especially if in­tended for the use of the church.

In the mean time, not to insist any longer on the incompati­bility of these metrical psalms with the spirit of our liturgy, and the barbarism of their style, it should b [...] remembered, that they were never admitted into our church by lawful authority. They were first introduced by the puritans, and afterwards con­tinued by connivance. But they never received any royal ap­probation or parlia [...]entary sanction, notwithstanding it is said in their title page, that they are ‘"set forth and ALLOWED to be sung in all churches of all the people together before and after evening prayer, and also before and after sermons: and moreover in private houses for their godly solace and comfort, [Page 179] laying apart all ungodly songs and ballads, which tend only to the nourishing of vice and the corrupting of youth."’ At the beginning of the reign of queen Elisabeth, when our eccle­siastical reformation began to be placed on a solid and durable establishment, those English divines who had fled from the su­perstitions of queen Mary to Franckfort and Geneva, where they had learned to embrace the opposite extreme, and where, from an abhorrence of catholic ceremonies, they had contracted a dislike to the decent appendages of divine worship, endea­voured, in conjunction with some of the principal courtiers, to effect an abrogation of our solemn church service, which they pronounced to be antichristian and unevangelical. They con­tended that the metrical psalms of David, set to plain and po­pular music, were more suitable to the simplicity of the gospel, and abundantly adequate to all the purposes of edification: and this proposal they rested on the authority and practice of Calvin, between whom and the church of England the breach was not then so wide as at present. But the queen and those bishops to whom she had delegated the business of supervising the liturgy, among which was the learned and liberal archbishop Parker, objected, that too much attention had already been paid to the German theology. She declared, that the foreign reformers had before interpo [...]ed, on [...]imilar deliberations, with unbecoming forwardness: and that the Common Prayer of her brother Ed­ward had been once altered, to quiet the scruples, and to gratify the cavils, of Calvin, Bucer, and Fagius. She was therefore invariably determined to make no more concessions to the im­portunate partisans of Geneva, and peremptorily decreed that the choral formalities should still be continued in the celebration of the sacred offices t.

SECT. XXVIII.

THE spirit of versifying the psalms, and other parts of the Bible, at the beginning of the reformation, was almost as epidemic as psalm-singing. William Hunnis, a gentleman of the chapel under Edward the sixth, and afterwards chapel-master to queen Elisabeth, rendered into rhyme many select psalms, which had not the good fortune to be rescued from oblivion by being incorporated into Hopkins's collection, nor to be sung in the royal chapel. They were printed in 1550, with this title, ‘"Certayne Psalmes chosen out of the Psalter of David, and drawen furth into Englysh meter by William Hunnis servant to the ryght honourable syr William Harberd knight. Newly collected and imprinted a."’

I know not if among these are his SEVEN SOBS of a sorrowful soul for s [...], comprehending the SEVEN PENITENTIAL PSALMS in metre. They are dedicated to Frances countess of Sussex, whose attachment to the gospel he much extols, and who was after­wards the foundress of Sydney college in Cambridge. Hunnis also, under the happy title of a HANDFUL OF HONEY­SUCKLES, published Blessings out of Deuteronomie, Prayers to Christ, Athanasius's Creed, and Meditations, in metre with mu­sical notes. But his spiritual nosegays are numerous. To say nothing of his RECREATIONS on Adam's banishment, Christ his Cribb, and the Lost Sheep, he translated into English rhyme the whole book of GENESIS, which he calls a HIVE FULL OF HONEY b. But his honey-suckles and his honey are now no longer delicious. He was a large contributor to the PARADISE [Page 181] OF DAINTY DEVISES, of which more will be said in its place. In the year 1550, were also published by John Hall, or Hawle, a surgeon or physician of Maidstone in Kent, and author of many tracts in his profession, ‘"Certayne chapters taken out of the proverbes of Solomon, with other chapters of the holy Scripture, and certayne Psalmes of David translated into English metre by John Hall c."’ By the remainder of the title it appears, that the proverbs had been in a former impres­sion unfairly attributed to Thomas Sternhold. The other chap­ters of Scripture are from Ecclesiasticus and saint Paul's Epistles. We must not confound this John Hall with his cotemporary Eliseus Hall, who pretended to be a missionary from heaven to the queen, prophesied in the streets, and wrote a set of metrical visions d. Metre was now become the vehicle of enthusiasm, and the puritans seem to have appropriated it to themselves, in opposition to our service, which was in prose.

William Baldwyn, of whom more will be said when we come to the MIRROUR OF MAGISTRATES, published a Phrase­like declaration in English meeter on the CANTICLES or SONGS OF SOLOMON, in 1549. It is dedicated to Edward the sixth e. Nineteen of the psalms in rhyme are extant by Francis Seagar, printed by William Seres in 1553, with musical notes, and de­dicated to lord Russel f.

Archbishop Parker also versified the psalter; not from any opposition to our liturgy, but, either for the private amusement and exercise of his religious exile, or that the people, whose [Page 182] predilection for psalmody could not be suppressed, might at least be furnished with a rational and proper translation. It was finished in 1557. And a few years afterwards printed by Day, the archbishop's printer, in quarto, with this title, ‘"The whole Psalter translated into English metre, which contayneth an hundredth and fifty psalmes. The first Quinquagene g. Quoniam omnis terrae deus, psallite sapienter. Ps. 14. 47. Im­printed at London by John Daye, dwelling over Aldersgate beneath Saint Martyn's. Cum privilegio per decennium h."’ Without date of the printer i, or name of the translator. In the metrical preface prefixed, he tries to remove the objections of those who censured versifications of Scripture, he pleads the comforts of such an employment to the persecuted theologist who suffers voluntary banishment, and thus displays the power of sacred music.

The psalmist stayde with tuned songe
The rage of myndes agast,
As David did with harpe among
To Saule in fury cast.
With golden stringes such harmonie
His harpe so sweete did wrest,
That he relieved his phrenesie
Whom wicked sprites possest k.

Whatever might at first have been his design, it is certain that his version, although printed, was never published: and notwithstanding the formality of his metrical preface abovementioned, [Page 183] which was professedly written to shew the spiritual efficacy or virtue of the psalms in metre, and in which he di­rects a distinct and audible mode of congregational singing, he probably suppressed it, because he saw that the practice had been abused to the purposes of fanaticism, and [...]dopted by the puri­tans in contradiction to the national worship; or at least that such a publication, whatever his private sentiments might have been, would not have suited the nature and dignity of his high office in the church. Some of our musical antiquaries, however, have justly conjectured, that the archbishop, who was skilled in music, and had formerly founded a music-school in his college of Stoke Clare, intended these psalms, which are adapted to complicated tunes of four parts probably constructed by him­self and here given in score, for the use of cathedrals; at a time, when compositions in counterpoint were uncommon in the church, and when that part of our choir-service called the motet or anthem, which admits a more artificial display of har­mony, and which is recommended and allowed in queen Elisa­beth's earliest ecclesiastical injunctions, was yet almost unknown, or but in a very imperfect state. Accordingly, although the di­rection is not quite comprehensible, he orders many of them to be sung by the rector chori, or chantor, and the quier, or choir, alternately. That at least he had a taste for music, we may conclude from the following not inelegant scale of modulation, prefixed to his eight tunes abovementioned.

"THE NATURE OF THE EYGHT TUNES.
The first is meke, devout to see,
The second sad, in maiesty:
The third doth rage, and roughly brayth,
The fourth doth fawne, and flattry playth:
The fifth deligth, and laugheth the more,
The sixt bewayleth, it wepeth full sore.
The seventh tredeth stoute in froward race,
The eyghte goeth milde in modest pace."

[Page 184]What follows is another proof, that he had proposed to intro­duce these psalms into the choir-service. ‘"The tenor of these partes be for the people when they will syng alone, the other partes put for the greater quiers, or to suche as will syng or play them privately l."’

How far this memorable prelate, perhaps the most accom­plished scholar that had yet filled the archbishoprick of Canter­bury, has succeeded in producing a translation of the psalter preferable to the common one, the reader may judge from these stanzas of a psalm highly poetical, in which I have exactly pre­served the translator's peculiar use of the hemistic punctuation.

To feede my neede: he will me leade
To pastures greene and fat:
He forth brought me: in libertie,
To waters delicate.
My soule and hart: he did convart,
To me he shewth the path:
Of right wisness: in holiness,
His name such vertue hath.
Yea though I go: through Death his wo
His vale and shadow wyde:
I feare no dart: with me thou art
With rod and staffe to guide.
Thou shalt provyde: a table wyde,
For me against theyr spite:
With oyle my head: thou hast bespred,
My cup is fully dight m.

I add, in the more sublime character, a part of the eighteenth psalm, in which Sternhold is supposed to have exerted his powers most successfully, and without the interruptions of the pointing which perhaps was designed for some regulations of the music, now unknown.

The earth did shake, for feare did quake,
The hils theyr bases shooke;
Removed they were, in place most fayre,
At God's ryght fearfull looke.
Darke smoke rose to hys face therefro,
Hys mouthe as fire consumde,
That coales at it were kyndled bright
When he in anger fumde.
The heavens full lowe he made to bowe,
And downe dyd he ensue n;
And darkness great was undersete
His feete in clowdy hue.
He rode on hye, and dyd so flye,
Upon the Cherubins;
He came in sight, and made his flight
Upon the wyng of wyndes.
The Lorde from heaven sent downe his leaven
And thundred thence in ire;
He thunder cast in wondrous blast
With hayle and coales of fyre o.

[Page 186] Here is some degree of spirit, and a choice of phraseology. But on the whole, and especially for this species of stanza [...] Parker will be found to want facility, and in general to have been unpractised in writing English verses. His abilities were destined to other studies, and adapted to employments of a more ar [...]hiepiscopal nature.

The industrious Strype, Parker's biographer, after a diligent search never could gain a sight o [...] this translation: nor is it even mentioned by Ames, the inquisitive collector of our typo­graphical antiquities. In the late Mr. West's library there was a superb copy, once belonging to bishop Kennet, who has re­marked in a blank page, that the archbishop permitted his wife dame Margaret to present the book to some of the nobility. It is certainly at this time extremely scarce, and would be deser­vedly deemed a fortunate acquisition to those capricious students who labour only to collect a library of rarities. Yet it is not generally known, that there are two copies in the Bod­leian library of this anonymous version, which have hitherto been given to an obscure po [...]t by the name of John Keeper. One of them, in 1643, appears to have been the property of bishop Barlow: and on the opposite side of the title, in some­what of an antient hand, is this manuscript insertion. ‘"The auctor of this booke is one John Keeper, who was brought upp in the close of Wells."’ Perhaps Antony Wood had no better authority than this slender unauthenticated note, for say­ing, that John Keeper, a native of Somersetshire, and a graduate at Oxford in the year 1564, and who afterwards studied music and poetry at Wells, ‘"translated The whole Psalter into English metre which containeth 150 psalms, etc. printed at London by John Day living over Aldersgate, about 1570, in quarto: and added thereunto The Gloria Patri, Te Deum, The Song of the three Children, Quicunque vult, Benedictus, &c. all in m [...]tre. At the end of which, are musical notes set in four parts to several psalms. What other things, he adds, of poetry, music, or other faculties, he has published, I know [Page 187] not, nor any thing more; yet I suppose he had some dignity in the church of Wells p."’ If this version should really be the work of Keeper, I fear we are still to seek for archbishop Parker's psalms, with Strype and Ames q.

A considerable contributor to the metrical theology was Robert Crowley, educated in Magdalene college at Oxford, where he obtained a fellowship in 1542. In the reign of Ed­ward the sixth, he commenced printer and preacher in London. He lived in Ely-rents in Holborn: ‘"where, says Wood, he sold books, and at leisure times exercised the gift of preach­ing in the great city and elsewhere r."’ In 1550 he printed the first edition of PIERCE PLOWMAN'S VISION, but with the ideas of a controversialist, and with the view of helping forward the reformation by the revival of a book which ex­posed the absurdities of popery in strong satire, and which at present is only valuable or useful, as it serves to gratify the harm­less researches of those peaceable philosophers who study the progression of antient literature. His pulpit and his press, those two prolific sources of faction, happily cooperated in propagating his principles of predestination: and his shop and his sermons were alike frequented. Possessed of those talents which qualified him for captivating the attention and moving the passions of the multitude, under queen Elisabeth he held many dignities in a church, whose doctrines and polity his un­discerning zeal had a tendency to destroy. He translated into popular rhyme, not only the psalter, but the litany, with hymns, all which he printed together in 1549. In the same year, and in the same measure, he published The Voice of the last Trumpet blown by the seventh angel. This piece contains twelve several lessons, for the instruction or amendment of those who seemed at that time chiefly to need advice; and among whom he enu­merates lewd priests, scholars, physicians, beggars, yeomen, gentlemen, [Page 188] magistrates, and women. He also attacked the abuses of his age in thirty-one EPIGRAMS, first printed in 1551. The subjects are placed alphabetically. In his first alphabet are Abbayes, Alehouses, Alleys, and Almeshouses. The second, Bailiffs, Bawds, Beggars, Bear-bayting, and Brawlers. They display, but without spirit or humour, the reprehensible prac­tices and licentious manners which then prevailed. He pub­lished in 1551, a kind of metrical sermon on Pleasure and Pain, Heaven and Hell. Many of these, to say nothing of his almost innumerable controversial tracts in prose, had repeated editions, and from his own press. But one of his treatises, to prove that Lent is a human invention and a superstitious institu­tion, deserves notice for its plan: it is a Dialogue between Lent and Liberty. The personification of Lent is a bold and a per­fectly new prosopopeia. In an old poem of this age against the papists, written by one doctor William Turner a physician, but afterwards dean of Wells, the Mass, or mistress MISSA, is perso­nified, who, arrayed in all her meretricious trappings, must at least have been a more theatrical figure s. Crowley likewise wrote, and printed in 1588, a rhyming manual, The School of Vertue and Book of good Nurture. This is a translation into metre, of many of the less exceptionable Latin hymns antiently used by the catholics, and still continuing to retain among the protestants a degree of popularity. One of these begins, Jam Lucis orto sydere. At the end are prayers and graces in rhyme. This book, which in Wood's time had been degraded to the stall of the ballad-singer, and is now only to be found on the shelf of the antiquary, was intended to supersede or abolish the original Latin hymns, which were only offensive because they were in Latin, and which were the recreation of scholars in our univer­sities after dinner on festival days. At an archiepiscopal visita­tion of Merton college in Oxford, in the year 1562, it was a matter of enquiry, whether the superstitious hymns appointed to [Page 189] be sung in the Hall on holidays, were changed for the psalms in metre: and one of the fellows is accused of having attempted to prevent the singing of the metrical Te Deum in the refectory on All-saints day t.

It will not be foreign to our purpose to remark here, that when doctor Cosins, prebendary of Durham, afterwards bishop, was cited before the parliament in 1640, for reviving or sup­porting papistic usages in his cathedral, it was alledged against him, that he had worn an [...]mbroidered cope, had repaired some ruinous cherubims, had used a consecrated knife for dividing the sacramental bread, had renovated the blue cap and golden beard of a little image of Christ on bishop Hatfield's tomb, had placed two lighted tapers on the altar which was decorated with emblematic sculpture, and had forbidden the psalms of Sternhold and Hopkins to be sung in the choir u.

SECT. XXIX.

BUT among the theological versifiers of these times, the most notable is Christopher Tye, a doctor of music at Cambridge in 1545, and musical preceptor to prince Edward, and probably to his sisters the princesses Mary and Elisabeth. In the reign of Elisabeth he was organist of the royal chapel, in which he had been educated. To his profession of music, he joined some knowledge of English literature: and having been taught to believe that rhyme and edification were closely con­nected, and being persuaded that every part of the Scripture would be more instructive and better received if reduced into verse, he projected a translation of the ACTS OF THE APOS­TLES into familiar metre. It appears that the BOOK OF KINGS had before been versified, which for many reasons was more capable of shining under the hands of a translator. But the most splendid historical book, I mean the most susceptible of poetic ornament, in the Old or New Testament, would have become ridiculous when clothed in the fashionable ecclesiastical stanza. Perhaps the plan of setting a narrative of this kind to music, was still more preposterous and exceptionable. How­ever, he completed only the first fourteen chapters: and they were printed in 1553, by William Serres, with the following title, which by the reader, who is not acquainted with the pe­culiar complexion of this period, will hardly be suspected to be serious. ‘"The ACTES OF THE APOSTLES translated into Englyshe metre, and dedicated to the kinges most excellent maiestye by Cristofer Tye, doctor in musyke, and one of the [Page 191] Gentylmen of hys graces most honourable Chappell, with notes to eche chapter to synge and also to play upon the Lute, very necessarye for studentes after theyr studye to fyle their wittes, and alsoe for all christians that cannot synge, to reade the good and godlye storyes of the lives of Christ his apos­tles."’ It is dedicated in Sternhold's stanza, ‘"To the ver­tuous and godlye learned prynce Edward the sixth."’ As this singular dedication contains, not only anecdotes of the author and his work, but of his majesty's eminent attention to the study of the scripture, and of his skill in playing on the lute, I need not apologise for transcribing a few dull stanzas; espe­cially as they will also serve as a specimen of the poet's native style and manner, unconfined by the fetters of translation.

Your Grace may note, from tyme to tyme,
That some doth undertake
Upon the Psalms to write in ryme,
The verse plesaunt to make:
And some doth take in hand to wryte
Out of the Booke of Kynges;
Because they se your Grace delyte
In suche like godlye thynges a.
And last of all, I youre poore man,
Whose doinges are full base,
Yet glad to do the best I can
To give unto your Grace,
Have thought it good now to recyte
The stories of the Actes
Even of the Twelve, as Luke doth wryte,
Of all their worthy factes.—
Unto the text I do not ad,
Nor nothyng take awaye;
And though my style be gros and bad,
The truth perceyve ye may.—
My callynge is another waye,
Your Grace shall herein fynde
My notes set forth to synge or playe,
To recreate the mynde.
And though they be not curious b,
But for the letter mete;
Ye shall them fynde harmonious,
And eke pleasaunt and swete.

A young monarch singing the ACTS OF THE APOSTLES in verse to his lute, is a royal character of which we have seldom heard. But he proceeds,

That such good thynges your Grace might move
Your Lute when ye assaye,
In stede of songes of wanton love,
These stories then to play.
So shall your Grace plese God the lorde
In walkyng in his waye,
His lawes and statutes to recorde
In your heart night and day.
And eke your realme shall florish styll,
No good thynge shall decaye,
Your subjectes shall with right good will,
These wordes recorde and saye:
"Thy lyf, O kyng, to us doth shyne,
"As God's boke doth thee teache;
"Thou dost us feede with such doctrine
"As God's elect dyd preache."

From this sample of his original vein, my reader will not perhaps hastily predetermine, that our author has communi­cated any considerable decorations to his ACTS OF THE APOS­TLES in English verse. There is as much elegance and anima­tion in the two following initial stanzas of the fourteenth chapter, as in any of the whole performance, which I shall therefore exhibit.

It chaunced in Iconium,
As theyc oft tymes did use,
Together they into did come
The Sinagoge of Jues.
Where they did preache and only seke
God's grace them to atcheve;
That so they speke to Jue and Greke
That many did bileve.

Doctor Tye's ACTS OF THE APOSTLES were sung for a time in the royal chapel of Edward the sixth. But they never became popular. The impropriety of the design, and the im­potency of the execution, seem to have been perceived even by his own prejudiced and undiscerning age. This circumstance, however, had probably the fortunate and seasonable effect, of [Page 194] turning Tye's musical studies to another and a more rational system: to the composition of words judiciously selected from the prose psalms in four or five parts. Before the middle of the reign of Elisabeth, at a time when the more ornamental and in­tricate music was wanted in our service, he concurred with the celebrated Tallis and a few others in setting several anthems, which are not only justly supposed to retain much of the ori­ginal strain of our antient choral melody before the reformation, but in respect of harmony, expression, contrivance, and general effect, are allowed to be perfect models of the genuine ecclesiastic style. Fuller informs us, that Tye was the chief restorer of the loss which the music of the church had sustained by the de­struction of the monasteries d. Tye also appears to have been a translator of Italian. The History of Nastagio and Traversari tran­slated out of Italian into English by C. T. perhaps Christopher Tye, was printed at London in 1569 e.

It is not my intention to pursue any farther the mob of reli­gious rhymers, who, from principles of the most unfeigned piety, devoutly laboured to darken the lustre, and enervate the force, of the divine pages. And perhaps I have been already too prolix in examining a species of poetry, if it may be so called, which even impoverishes prose; or rather, by mixing the stile of prose with verse, and of verse with prose, destroys [Page 195] the character and effect of both. But in surveying the general course of a species of literature, absurdities as well as excellen­cies, the weakness and the vigour of the human mind, must have their historian. Nor is it unpleasing to trace and to con­template those strange incongruities, and false ideas of perfection, which at various times, either affectation, or caprice, or fashion, or opinion, or prejudi [...]e, or ignorance, or enthusiasm, present to the conceptions of men, in the shape of truth.

I must not, however, forget, that king Edward the sixth is to be ranked among the religious poets of his own reign. Fox has published his metrical instructions concerning the eucharist, addressed to sir Antony Saint Leger. Bale also mentions his comedy called the WHORE OF BABYLON, which Holland the heroologist, who perhaps had never seen it, and knew not whether it was a play or a ballad, in verse or prose, pronounces to be a most elegant perfo [...]mance f. Its elegance, with some, will not perhaps apologise or atone for its subject: and it may seem strange, that controversial ribaldry should have been suf­fered to enter into the education of a great monarch. But the genius, habits, and situation; of his age should be considered. The reformation was the great political topic of Edward's court. Intricate discussions in divinity were no longer confined to the schools or the clergy. The new religion, from its novelty, as well as importance, interested every mind, and was almost the sole object of the general attention. Men emancipated from the severities of a spiritual tyranny, reflected with horror on the slavery they had so long suffered, and with exultation on the triumph they had obtained. These feelings were often expressed in a strain of enthusiasm. The spirit of innovation, which had seized the times, often transgressed the bounds of truth. Every change of religion is attended with those ebullitions, which growing more moderate by degrees, afterwards appear eccentric and ridiculous.

[Page 196] We who live at a distance from this great and national strug­gle between popery and protestantism, when our church has been long and peaceably established, and in an age of good sense, of politeness and philosophy, are apt to view these effusions of royal piety as weak and unworthy the character of a king. But an ostentation of zeal and example in the young Edward, as it was natural so it was necessary, while the reformation was yet immature. It was the duty of his preceptors, to impress on his tender years, an abhorrence of the principles of Rome, and a predilection to that happy system which now seemed likely to prevail. His early diligence, his inclination to letters, and his seriousness of disposition, seconded their active endeavours to cultivate and to bias his mind in favour of the new theology, which was now become the fashionable knowledge. These and other amiable virtues his cotemporaries have given young Ed­ward in an eminent degree. But it may be presumed, that the partiality which youth always commands, the specious prospects excited by expectation, and the flattering promises of religious liberty secured to a distant posterity, have had some small share in dictating his panegyric.

The new settlement of religion, by counteracting inveterate prejudices of the most interesting nature, by throwing the clergy into a state of contention, and by disseminating theological opi­nions among the people, excited so general a ferment, that even the popular ballads and the stage, were made the vehicles of the controversy between the papal and protestant communions g.

The Ballad of LUTHER, the POPE, a CARDINAL, and a HUSBANDMAN, written in 1550, in defence of the reforma­tion, has some spirit, and supports a degree of character in the speakers. There is another written about the same time, which is a lively satire on the English Bible, the vernacular liturgy, and the book of homilies h. The measure of the last is that of [Page 197] PIERCE PLOWMAN, with the addition of rhyme: a sort of versification which now was not uncommon.

Strype has printed a poem called the PORE HELP, of the year 1550, which is a lampoon against the new preachers or gospellers, not very elegant in its allusions, and in Skelton's style. The anonymous satirist mentions with applause Mayster Huggarde, or Miles Hoggard, a shoemaker of London, and who wrote several virulent pamphlets against the reformation, which were made important by extorting laboured answers from several eminent divines i. He also mentions a nobler clarke, whose learned Balad in defence of the holy Kyrke had triumphed over all the raillery of its numerous opponents k. The same indus­trious annalist has also preserved A Song on bishop Latimer, in the octave rhyme, by a poet of the same persuasion l. And in the catalogue of modern English prohibited books delivered in 1542 to the parish priests, to the intent that their authors might be discovered and punished, there is the Burying of the Mass in Eaglish rithme m. But it is not my intention to make a full and formal collection of these fugitive religious pasquinades, which died with their respective controversies.

In the year 1547, a proclamation was published to prohibit preaching. This was a t [...]mporary expedient to suppress the turbulent harangues of the catholic ministers, who still com­posed no small part of the parochial clergy: for the court of augmentations took care perpetually to supply the vacant bene­fices with the disincorporated monks, in order to exonerate the exchequer from the payment of their annuities. These men, both from inclination and interest, and hoping to restore the church to its antient orthodoxy and opulence, exerted all their powers of declamation in combating the doctrines of protestantism [Page 198] and in alienating the minds of the people from the new doctrines and reformed rites of worship. Being silenced by au­thority, they had recourse to the stage: and from the pulpit re­moved their polemics to the play-house. Their farces became more successful than their sermons. The people flocked eagerly to the play-house, when deprived not only of their antient pagean­tries, but of their pastoral discourses, in the church. Arch­bishop Cranmer and the protector Somerset were the chief ob­jects of these dramatic invectives n. At length, the same autho­rity which had checked the preachers, found it expedient to controul the players: and a new proclamation, which I think has not yet appeared in the history of the British drama, was promulgated in the following terms o. The inquisitive reader will observe, that from this instrument plays appear to have been long before a general and familiar species of entertain­ment, that they were acted not only in London but in the great towns, that the profession of a player, even in our present sense, was common and established; and that these satirical in­terludes are forbidden only in the English tongue. ‘"Forasmuch as a great number of those that be COMMON PLAYERS of ENTERLUDES and PLAYES, as well within the city of Lon­don as elsewhere within the realm, doe for the most part play such ENTERLUDES, as contain matter tending to sedition, and contemning of sundry good orders and laws; whereupon are grown and daily are likely to growe and ensue much dis­quiet, division, tumults and uprores in this realm p: the Kinges Majesty, by the advice and consent of his dearest [Page 199] uncle Edward duke of Somerset, and the rest of his high­nesse Privie Councell, straightly chargeth and commandeth all and everie his Majesties subjects, of whatsoever state, order, or degree they be, that from the ninth day of this pre­sent month of August untill the feast of All-saints next com­ming, they nor any of them, openly or secretly PLAY IN THE ENGLISH TONGUE, any kind of ENTERLUDE, PLAY, DIALOGUE, or other matter set forth in form of PLAY, in [Page 200] any place publick or private within this realm, upon pain, that whosoever shall PLAY in ENGLISH any such PLAY, ENTER­LUDE, DIALOGUE, or other MATTER, shall suffer impri­sonment, or other punishment at the pleasure of his Majes­tie q."’ But when the short date of this proclamation expired, the reformers, availing themselves of the stratagems of an enemy, attacked the papists with their own weapons. One the come­dies on the side of reformation still remains r. But the writer, while his own religion from its simple and impalpable form was much less exposed to the ridicule of scenic exhibition, has not taken advantage of that opportunity which the papistic ceremo­nies so obviously afforded to burlesque and drollery, from their visible pomp, their number, and their absurdities: nor did he perceive an effect which he might have turned to his own use, suggested by the practice of his catholic antagonists in the drama, who, by way of recommending their own superstitious solemni­ties, often made them contemptible by theatrical representation.

This piece is entitled, An Enterlude called LUSTY JUVENTUS: lively describing the Frailtie of youth: of Nature prone to Vyce: by Grace and Good Councell traynable to vertue f. The author, of whom nothing more is known, was one R. Wever, as appears from the colophon. ‘"Finis, quod R. Wever. Imprinted at London in Paules churche yarde by Abraham Vele at the signe of the Lambe."’ Hypocrisy is its best character: who laments the loss of her superstitions to the devil, and recites a long catalogue of the trumpery of the popish worship in the metre and manner of Skelton s. The chapter and verse of Scripture are often announced: and in one scene, a personage, called GOD'S MERCYFULL PROMISES, cites Ezekiel as from the pulpit.

The Lord by his prophet Ezekiel sayeth in this wise playnlye,
As in the xxiii chapter it doth appere:
Be converted, O ye children, &c t.

From this interlude we learn, that the young men, which was natural, were eager to embrace the new religion, and that the old were unwilling to give up those doctrines and modes of worship, to which they had been habitually attached, and had paid the most implicit and reverential obedience, from their childhood. To this circumstance the devil, who is made to re­present the Scripture as a novelty, attributes the destruction of his spiritual kingdom.

The old people would beleve stil in my lawes,
But the yonger sort lead them a contrary way;
They wyll not beleve, they playnly say,
In old traditions as made by men,
But they wyll 'leve as the Scripture teacheth them u.

The devil then, in order to recover his interest, applies to his son Hypocrisy, who attempts to convert a young man to the antient faith, and says that the Scripture can teach no more, than that God is a good man w, a phrase which Shakespeare with great humour has put into the mouth of Dogberry x. But he adds an argument in jest, which the papists sometimes seriously used against the protestants, and which, if we consider the poet's ultimate intention, had better been suppressed.

The world was never so mery,
Since children were so bolde:
Now every boy will be a teacher,
The father a foole, the chylde a pr [...]acher y.

[Page 202] It was among the reproaches of protestantism, that the inex­perienced and the unlearned thought themselves at liberty to ex­plain the Scriptures, and to debate the most abstruse and meta­physical topics of theological speculation. The two songs in the character of YOUTH, at the opening and close of this inter­lude, are flowery and not inelegant z.

The protestants continued their plays in Mary's reign: for Strype has exhibited a remonstrance from the Privy-council to the lord President of the North, representing, that ‘"certain lewd [ignorant] persons, to the number of six or seven in a company, naming themselves to be servants of sir Frauncis Lake, and wearing his livery or badge on their sleeves, have wandred about those north parts, and representing certain Plays and Enterludes,"’ reflecting on her majesty and king Philip, and the formalities of the mass a. These were family­minstrels or players, who were constantly distinguished by their master's livery or badge.

When the English liturgy was restored at the accession of Elisabeth, after its suppression under Mary, the papists renewed their hostilities from the stage; and again tried the intelligible mode of attack by ballads, farces, and interludes. A new in­junction was then necessary, and it was again enacted in 1559, that no person, but under heavy forfeitures, should abuse the Common Prayer in ‘"any Enterludes, Plays, songs or rimes b."’ But under Henry the eighth, so early as the year 1542, before the reformation was fixed or even intended on its present liberal establishment, yet when men had begun to discern and to reprobat [...] [Page 203] many of the impostures of popery, it became an object of the legislature to curb the bold and seditious spirit of popular poetry. No sooner were the Scriptures translated and permitted in English, than they were brought upon the stage: they were not only misinterpreted and misunderstood by the multitude, but profaned or burlesqued in comedies and mummeries. Ef­fectually to restrain these abuses, Henry, who loved to create a subject for persecution, who commonly proceeded to disannul what he had just confirmed, and who found that a freedom of enquiry tended to shake his ecclesiastical supremacy, framed a law, that not only Tyndale's English Bible, and all the printed English commentaries, expositions, annotations, defences, replies, and sermons, whether orthodox or heretical, which it had occa­sioned, should be utterly abolished; but that the kingdom should also be purged and cleansed of all religious plays, inter­ludes, rhymes, ballads, and songs, which are equally pestiferou [...] and noysome to the peace of the church c.

Henry appears to have been piqued as an author and a theolo­gist in adding the clause concerning his own INSTITUTION OF A CHRISTIAN MAN, which had been treated with the same sort of ridicule. Yet under the general injunction of suppres­sing all English books on religious subjects, he formally excepts, among others, some not properly belonging to that class, such as the CANTERBURY TALES, the works of Chaucer and Gower, CRONICLES, and STORIES OF MENS LIVES d. There is also an exception added about plays, and those only are allowed which were called MORALITIES, or perhaps interludes of r [...]al character and action, ‘"for the rebuking and reproaching of vices and the setting forth of virtue."’ MYSTERIES are to­tally rejected e. The reservations which follow, concerning the use of a corrected English Bible, which was permitted, are cu­rious for their quaint partiality, and they shew the embarrassment [Page 204] of administration, in the difficult business of confining that be­nefit to a few, from which all might reap advantage, but which threatened to become a general evil, without some degrees of re­striction. It is absolutely forbidden to be read or expounded in the church. The lord chancellor, the speaker of the house of commons, captaines of the wars, justices of the peace, and re­corders of cities, may quote passages to enforce their public ha­rangues, as has been accustomed. A nobleman or gentleman may read it, in his house, orchards, or garden, yet quietly, and with­out disturbance ‘"of good order."’ A merchant also may read it to himself privately. But the common people, who had already abused this liberty to the purpose of division and dissensions, and under the denomination of women, artificers, apprentices, journeymen, and servingmen, are to be punished with one month's imprisonment, as often as they are detected in reading the Bible either privately or openly.

It should be observed, that few of these had now learned to read. But such was the privilege of peerage, that ladies of quality might read ‘"to themselves and alone, and not to others,"’ any chapter either in the Old or New Testament f. This has the air of a sumptuary law, which indulges the nobility with many superb articles of finery, that are interdicted to those of inferior degree g. Undoubtedly the duchesses and countesses of this age, if not from principles of piety, at least from motives of curiosity, became eager to read a book which was made [Page 205] inaccessible to three parts of the nation. But the partial distribu­tion of a treasure to which all had a right could not long remain. This was a MANNA to be gathered by every man. The claim of the people was too powerful to be overruled by the bigottry, the prejudice, or the caprice of Henry.

I must add here, in reference to my general subject, that the translation of the Bible, which in the reign of Edward the sixth was admitted into the churches, is supposed to have fixed our language. It certainly has transmitted and perpetuated many antient words which would otherwise have been obsolete or un­intelligible. I have never seen it remarked, that at the same time this translation contributed to enrich our native English at an early period, by importing and familiarising many Latin words h.

These were suggested by the Latin vulgate, which was used as a medium by the translators. Some of these, however, now interwoven into our common speech, could not have been un­derstood by many readers even above the rank of the vulgar, when the Bible first appeared in English. Bishop Gardiner had therefore much less reason than we now imagine, for complain­ing of the too great clearness of the translation, when with an insidious view of keeping the people in their antient ignorance, he proposed, that instead of always using English phrases, many Latin words should still be preserved, because they contained an inherent significance and a genuine dignity, to which the com­mon tongue afforded no correspondent expressions of sufficient energy i.

To the reign of Edward the sixth belongs Arthur Kelton, a native of Shropshire or Wales. He wrote the CRONICLE OF [Page 206] THE BRUTES in English verse. It is dedicated to the young king, who seems to have been the general patron; and was printed in 1547 k. Wood allows that he was an able antiquary; but laments, that he ‘"being withall poetically given, must for­sooth write and publish his lucubrations in verse; whereby, for rhime's sake, many material matters, and the due timing of them, are omitted, and so consequently rejected by histo­rians and antiquarians l."’ Yet he has not supplied his want of genealogical and historical precision with those strokes of poetry which his subject suggested; nor has his imagination been any impediment to his accuracy. At the end of his CRONICLE is the GENEALOGY OF THE BRUTES, in which the pedigree of king Edward the sixth is lineally drawn through thirty-two ge­nerations, from Osiris the first king of Egypt. Here too Wood reproaches our author for his ignorance in genealogy. But in an heraldic enquiry, so difficult and so new, many mistakes are pardonable. It is extraordinary that a Welshman should have carried his genealogical researches into Egypt, or rather should have wished to prove that Edward was descended from Osiris: but this was with a design to shew, that the Egyptian monarch was the original progen [...]tor of Brutus, the undoubted founder of Edward's family. Bale says that he wrote, and dedicated to sir William Herbert, afterwards earl of Pembroke, a most elegant poetical panegyric on the Cambro-Britons m. But Bale's praises and censures are always regulated according to the religion of his authors.

The first CHANSON à BOIRE, or DRINKING-BALLAD, of any merit, in our language, appeared in the year 1551. It has a vein of ease and humour, which we should not expect to have been inspired by the simple beverage of those times. I be­lieve I shall not tire my reader by giving it at length; and am only afraid that in this specimen the transition will be thought [Page 207] too violent, from the poetry of the puritans to a convivial and ungodlie ballad.

I cannot eat, but little meat,
My stomach is not good;
But sure I think, that I can drink
With him that weares a hood n.
Though I go bare, take ye no care,
I nothing am a colde;
I stuffe my skin so full within,
Of joly goode ale and olde.
Backe and side go bare, go bare,
Booth foot and hand go colde;
But, belly, God send thee good ale inoughe,
Whether it be new or olde!
I love no rost, but a nut-browne toste,
And a crab laid in the fire;
A little bread shall do me stead,
Moche bread I noght desire.
No frost no snow, no winde, I trowe,
Can hurt me if I wolde,
I am so wrapt, and throwly lapt
Of joly good ale and olde.
Backe and side, &c.
And TIB my wife, that as her life
Loveth well good ale to seeke,
Full oft drinkes shee, till ye may see
The teares run downe her cheeke.
Then doth she trowle to me the bowle
Even as a mault-worm sholde;
And o, "saith, sweet heart, I tooke my part
"Of this joly good ale and olde."
Backe and side, &c.
Now let them drinke, till they nod and winke [...]
Even as good fellows should do:
They shall not misse to have the blisse
Good ale doth bringe men to.
And al goode sowles that have scoured bowles,
Or have them lustely trolde,
God save the lives [...] of them and their wives,
Whether they be yong or olde!
Backe and side, &c.

This song opens the second act of GAMMER GURTON'S NEEDLE, a comedy, written and printed in 1551 p, and soon afterwards acted at Christ's College in Cambridge. In the title of the old edition it is said to have been written ‘"by Mr. S. master of artes,"’ who probably was a member of that society. This is held to be the first comedy in our language: that is, the first play which was neither Mystery nor Morality, and which handled a comic story with some disposition of plot, and some dis [...]rimination of character q. The writer has a degree of jocularity which sometimes rises above buffoonery, but is often disgraced by lowness of incident. Yet in a more polished age he would have chosen, nor would he perhaps have disgraced, a better subject. It has been thought surprising that a learned audience could have endured some of these indelicate scenes. But the established festivities of scholars were gross and agree­able to their general habits: nor was learning in that age always accompanied by gentleness of manners. When the sermons of Hugh Latimer were in vogue at court, the university might be justified in applauding GAMMER GURTON'S NEEDLE.

SECT. XXX.

TRUE genius, unseduced by the cabals and unalarmed by the dangers of faction, defies or neglects those events which destroy the peace of mankind, and often exerts its opera­tions amidst the most violent commotions of a state. Without patronage and without readers, I may add without models, the earlier Italian writers, while their country was shook by the in­testine tumults of the Guelfes and Guibelines, continued to pro­duce original compositions both in prose and verse, which yet stand unrivalled. The age of Pericles and of the Peloponnesian war was the same. Careless of those who governed or disturbed the world, and superior to the calamities of a quarrel in which two mighty leaders contended for the prize of universal domi­nion, Lucretius wrote his sublime didactic poem on the system of nature, Virgil his bucolics, and Cicero his books of philoso­phy. The proscriptions of Augustus did not prevent the pro­gress of the Roman literature.

In the turbulent and unpropitious reign of queen Mary, when controversy was no longer confined to speculation, and a spiritual warfare polluted every part of England with murthers more atrocious than the slaughters of the most bloody civil contest, a poem was planned, although not fully completed, which illu­minates with no common lustre that interval of darkness, which occupies the annals of English poetry from Surrey to Spenser, entitled, A MIRROUR FOR MAGISTRATES.

More writers than one were concerned in the execution of this piece: but its primary inventor, and most distinguished [Page 210] contributor, was Thomas Sackville the first lord Buckhurst, and first earl of Dorset. Much about the same period, the same author wrote the first genuine English tragedy, which I shall consider in its proper place.

Sackville was born at Buckhurst, a pricipal seat of his antient and illustrious family in the parish of Withiam in Sussex. His birth is placed, but with evident inaccuracy, under the year 1536 a. At least it should be placed six years before. Disco­vering a vigorous understanding in his childhood, from a do­mestic tuition he was removed, as it may reasonably be conjec­tured, to Hart-hall, now Hertford college, in Oxford. But he appears to have been a master of Arts at Cambridge b. At both universities he became celebrated as a Latin and English poet; and he carried his love of poetry, which he seems to have almost solely cultivated, to the Inner Temple. It was now fashionable for every young man of fortune, before he began his travels, or was admitted into parliament, to be initiated in the study of the law. But instead of pursuing a science, which could not be his profession, and which was unaccommodated to the bias of his genius, he betrayed his predilection to a more pleasing species of literature, by composing the tragedy just mentioned, for the entertainment and honour of his fellow-students. His high birth, however, and ample patrimony, soon advanced him to more important situations and employments. His eminent ac­complishments and abilities having acquired the confidence and esteem of queen Elisabeth, the poet was soon lost in the states­man, and negotiations and embassies extinguished the milder ambitions of the ingenuous Muse. Yet it should be remem­bered, that he was uncorrupted amidst the intrigues of an artful court, that in the character of a first minister he preserved the integrity of a private man, and that his family refused the offer of an apology to his memory, when it was insulted by the malicious [Page 211] insinuations of a rival party. Nor is it foreign to our purpose to remark, that his original elegance and brilliancy of mind sometimes broke forth, in the exercise of his more formal political functions. He was frequently disgusted at the pedantry and official barbarity of style, with which the public letters and instruments were usually framed: and Naunton re­lates, that his ‘"secretaries had difficulty to please him, he was so facete and choice in his style c."’ Even in the decisions and pleadings of that rigid tribunal the star-chamber, which was never esteemed the school of rhetoric, he practiced and encou­raged an unaccustomed strain of eloquent and graceful oratory: on which account, says Lloyd, ‘"so flowing was his invention, that he was called the star-chamber bell d."’ After he was made a peer by the title of lord Buckhurst, and had succeeded to a most extensive inheritance, and was now discharging the bu­siness of an envoy to Paris, he found time to prefix a Latin epistle to Clerke's Latin translation of Castilio's COURTIER, printed at London in 1571, which is not an unworthy recom­mendation of a treatise remarkable for its polite Latinity. It was either because his mistress Elisabeth paid a sincere compli­ment to his singular learning and fidelity, or because she was willing to indulge an affected fit of indignation against the ob­ject of her capricious passion, that when Sackville, in 1591, was a candidate for the chancellorship of the university of Oxford, she condescended earnestly to sollicit the university in his favour, and in opposition to his competitor the earl of Essex. At least she appears to have approved the choice, for her majesty soon afterwards visited Oxford, where she was entertained by the new chancellor with splendid banquets and much solid erudition. It is neither my design nor my province, to develope the profound policy with which he conducted a peace with Spain, the address with which he penetrated or baffled the machinations of Essex, and the circumspection and success with which he managed the [Page 212] treasury of two opulent sovereigns. I return to Sackville as a poet, and to the history of the MIRROUR OF MAGISTRATES e.

About the year 1557, he formed the plan of a poem, in which all the illustrious but unfortunate characters of the Eng­lish history, from the conquest to the end of the fourteenth century, were to pass in review before the poet, who descends like Dante into the infernal region, and is conducted by SORROW. Although a descent into hell had been suggested by other poets, the application of such a fiction to the present design, is a conspicuous proof of genius and even of invention. Every personage was to recite his own misfortunes in a separate soliloquy. But Sackville had leisure only to finish a poetical preface called an INDUCTION, and one legend, which is the life of Henry Stafford duke of Buckingham. Relinquishing therefore the design abruptly, and hastily adapting the close of his INDUCTION to the appearance of Buckingham, the only story he had yet written, and which was to have been the last in his series, he recommended the completion of the whole to Richard Baldwyne and George Ferrers.

Baldwyne seems to have been graduated at Oxford about the year 1532. He was an ecclesiastic, and engaged in the education of youth. I have already mentioned his metrical version of SOLOMON'S SONG, dedicated to king Edward the sixth f. His patron was Henry lord Stafford g.

George Ferrers, a man of superior rank, was born at saint Albans, educated at Oxford, and a student of Lincolns-inn. Leland, who has given him a place in his ENCOMIA, informs us, that he was patronised by lord Cromwell h. He was in parliament [Page 213] under Henry the eighth; and, in 1542, imprisoned by that whimsical tyrant, perhaps very unjustly, and for some cabal now not exactly known. About the same time, in his juridical capacity, he translated the MAGNA CHARTA from French into Latin and English, with some other statutes of England h. In a scarce book, William Patten's Expedition into Scotlande of the most woorthely fortunate prince Edward duke of Somerset, printed at London in 1548 i, and partly incorporated into Hollinshead's history, it appears from the following passage that he was of the suite of the protector Somerset. ‘"George Ferrers a gentleman of my lord Protectors, and one of the commis­sioners of the carriage of this army."’ He is said to have compiled the history of queen Mary's reign, which makes a part of Grafton's CHRONICLE k. He was a composer almost by profession of occasional interludes for the diversion of the court: and in 1553, being then a member of Lincolns-inn, he bore the office of LORD OF MISRULE at the royal palace of Green­wich during the twelve days of Christmas. Stowe says, ‘"George Ferrers gentleman of Lincolns-inn, being lord of the disportes all the 12 days of Christmas anno MDLIII l, at Greenwich: who so pleasantly and wisely behaved himself, that the king had great delight in his pastymes m."’ No common talents were required for these festivities. Bale says that he wrote some rhymes, rhythmos aliquot n. He died at Flamstead in Hertford­shire in 1579. Wood's account of George Ferrers, our author, who misled by Puttenham the author of the ARTE OF ENG­LISH POESIE, has confounded him with Edward Ferrers a writer of plays, is full of mistakes and inconsistencies o. Our author [Page 214] wrote the epitaph of his friend Thomas Phayer, the old tran­slator of the Eneid into English verse, who died in 1560, and is buried in the church of Kilgarran in Pembrokeshire.

Baldwyne and Ferrers, perhaps deterred by the greatness of the attempt, did not attend to the series prescribed by Sackville; but inviting some others to their assistance, among which are Churchyard and Phayer, chose such lives from the newly pub­lished chronicles of Fabyan and Hall, as seemed to display the most affecting catastrophes, and which very probably were pointed out by Sackville. The civil wars of York and Lan­caster, which Hall had compiled with a laborious investigation of the subject, appear to have been their chief resource.

These legends with their authors, including Sackville's part, are as follows. Robert Tresilian chief Justice of England, in 1388, by Ferrers. The two Mortimers, surnamed Roger, in 1329, and 1387, by Baldwyne. Thomas of Woodstock duke of Gloucester, uncle to Richard the second, murdered in 1397, by Ferrers. Lord Mowbray, preferred and banished by the same king in 1398, by Churchyard. King Richard the second, de­posed in 1399, by Baldwyne. Owen Glendour, the pretended prince of Wales, starved to death in 1401, by Phayer. Henry Percy earl of Northumberland, executed at York in 1407, by Baldwyne. Richard Plantagenet earl of Cambridge, executed at Southampton in 1415, by Baldwyne. Thomas Montague earl of Salisbury, in 1428, by Baldwyne. James the first of Scotland, by Baldwyne. William de la Poole duke of Suffolk, 961 [Page 215] banished for destroying Humphry duke of Gloucester in 1450, by Baldwyne. Jack Cade the rebel in 1450, by Baldwyne. Richard Plantagenet duke of Yorke, and his son the earl of Rutland, killed in 1460, by Baldwyne. Lord Clifford, in 1461, by Baldwyne. Tiptoft earl of Worcester, in 1470, by Bald­wyne. Richard Nevil earl of Warwick, and his brother John lord Montacute, killed in the battle of Barnet, 1471, by Bald­wyne. King Henry the sixth murthered in the Tower London, in 1471, by Baldwyne. George Plantagenet, third son of the duke of York, murthered by his brother Richard in 1478, by Baldwyne. Edward the fourth, who died suddenly in 1483, by Skelton q. Sir Anthony Woodville, lord Rivers and Scales, go­vernor of prince Edward, murthered with his nephew lord Gray in 1483, by Baldwyne r. Lord Hastings betrayed by Catesby, and murthered in the Tower by Richard duke of Glou­cester, in 1483 s. Sackville's INDUCTION. Sackville's Duke of Buckingham. Collingbourne, cruelly executed for making a foolish rhyme, by Baldwyne. Richard duke of Gloucester, slain in Bosworth field by Henry the seventh, in 1485, by Francis Seagers t. Jane Shore, by Churchyard u. Edmund duke of Somerset killed in the first battle of Saint Albans in 1454, by Ferrers. Michael Joseph the blacksmith and lord Audely, in 1496, by Cavyl.

It was injudicious to choose so many stories which were then recent. Most of these events were at that time too well known [Page 216] to become the proper subject of poetry, and must have lost much of their solemnity by their notoriety. But Shakespeare has been guilty of the same fault. The objection, however, is now worn away, and age has given a dignity to familiar circumstances.

This collection, or set of poems, was printed in quarto, in 1559, with the following title. ‘"A MYRROVRE FOR MAGISTRATES, Wherein may be seen by example of others, with howe greuous plages vices are punished, and howe frayl and vnstable worldly prosperitie is founde, euen of those whom Fortvne seemeth most highly to favour. Felix quem faciunt aliena pericula cautum. Anno 1559. Londini, in aedibus Thomae Marshe."’ A Mirrour was a favorite title of a book, especially among the old French writers. Some anec­dotes of the publication may be collected from Baldwyne's DE­DICATION TO THE NOBILITIE, prefixed. ‘"The wurke was begun and parte of it prynted in Queene Maries tyme, but hyndred by the Lord Chancellour that then was w: never­theles, through the meanes of my lorde Stafford x, the fyrst parte was licenced, and imprynted the fyrst yeare of the raygne of this our most noble and vertuous queene y, and de­dicated then to your honours with this preface. Since whych time, although I have been called to another trade of lyfe, yet my good lord Stafford hath not ceassed to call upon me to publyshe so much as I had gotten at other mens hands, so that through his lordshyppes earnest meanes I have now also set furth another parte, conteyning as little of myne owne as the fyrst parte doth of other mens z."’

The plan was confessedly borrowed from Boccace's DE CASIBUS [Page 217] PRINCIPUM, a book translated, as we have seen, by Lyd­gate, but which never was popular, because it had no English examples. But Baldwyne's scope and conduct, with respect to this and other circumstances, will best appear from his Preface, which cannot easily be found, and which I shall therefore insert at large. ‘"When the printer had purposed with him [...]elfe to printe Lydgate's booke of the FALL OF PRINCES, and had made pryvye therto many both honourable and worshipfull, he was counsayled by dyvers of them, to procure to have the story contynewed from where as Bochas left, unto this pre­sent time; chiefly of such as Fortune had dalyed with in this ylande.—Which advyse lyked him so well, that he re­quyred me to take paines therin. But because it was a matter passyng my wit and skyll, and more thankles than gaineful to meddle in, I refused utterly to undertake it, except I might have the help of suche, as in wit were apte, in learnyng al­lowed, and in judgement and estymacyon able to wield and furnysh so weighty an enterpryse, thinkyng even so to shift my handes. But he, earnest and diligent in his affayres, pro­cured Atlas to set under his shoulder. For shortly after, divers learned men, whose manye giftes nede fewe prayses, consented to take upon them parte of the travayle. And when certaine of them, to the numbre of seven, were through a general assent at an appoynted tyme and place gathered to­gether to devyse thereupon, I resorted unto them, bearing the booke of Bochas translated by Dan Lidgate, for the better observation of his order. Which although we liked wel, yet would it not cumly serve, seeing that both Bochas and Lid­gate were dead; neither were there any alive that meddled with like argument, to whom the UNFORTUNATE might make make their mone. To make therefore a state mete for the matter, they all agreed that I should usurpe Bochas rowme, and the WRETCHED PRINCES complayne unto me: and take upon themselves every man for his parte to be sundry personages, and in their behalfes to bewaile unto ME their [Page 218] greevous chances, heavye destinies, and wofull misfortunes. This done, we opened such bookes of Cronicles as we had there present. And maister Ferrers, after he had found where Bochas left, which was about the ende of kinge Edwarde the thirdes raigne, to begin the matter sayde thus."’

‘"I marvayle what Bochas meaneth, to forget among his MISERABLE PRINCES such as wer of our nacion, whose numbre is as great, as their adventures wunderfull. For to let passe all, both Britons, Danes, and Saxons, and to come to the last Conquest, what a sorte are theya, and some even in his [Boccace's] owne time! As for example, king Richard the fyrst, slayne with a quarleb in his chyefe prosperitie. Also king John his brother, as sum saye, poysoned. Are not their histories rufull, and of rare example? But as it should appeare, he being an Italian, minded most the Roman and Italike story, or els perhaps he wanted our countrey Croni­cles. It were therefore a goodly and a notable matter, to search and discourse our whole story from the first beginning of the inhabiting of the yle. But seeing the printer's minde is, to have us folowe where Lidgate left, we will leave that great labour to other that may intend it, and (as blinde Bayard is alway boldest) I will begyn at the time of Rychard the second, a time as unfortunate as the ruler therein. And for­asmuch, frend Baldwyne, as it shal be your charge to note and pen orderlye the whole proces, I will, so far as my memorie and judgemente serveth, sumwhat further you in the truth of the storye. And therefore omittinge the ruffle of Jacke Strawe and his meyney c, and the murther of manye notable men which therby happened, for Jacke, as ye knowe, was but a poore prynce; I will begin with a notable example which within a while after ensued. And although he be no Great Prynce, yet sithens he had a princely office, I will take upon me the miserable person of syr ROBERT TRESILIAN [Page 219] chyefe justyce of England, and of other which suf­fered with him. Therby to warne all of his authoritye and profession, to take hede of wrong judgements, misconstruynge of lawes, or wresting the same to serve the princes turnes, which ryghtfully brought theym to a miserable ende, which they may justly lament in manner ensuing d."’ Then follows sir ROBERT TRESILIAN'S legend or history, supposed to be spoken by himself, and addressed to Baldwyne.

Here we see that a company was feigned to be assembled, each of which, one excepted, by turns personates a character of one of the great Unfortunate: and that the stories were all con­nected, by being related to the silent person of the assembly, who is like the chorus in the Greek tragedies, or the Host in Chaucer's Canterbury Tales. The whole was to form a sort of dramatic interlude, including a series of independent soliloquies. A continuity to this imagined representation is preserved by the introduction, after every soliloquy, of a prose epilogue, which also serves as a prologue to the succeeding piece, and has the air of a stage-direction. Boccace had done this before. We have this interposition, which I give as a specimen, and which ex­plains the method of the recital, between the tragedies of king RICHARD THE SECOND and OWEN GLENDOUR. ‘"Whan he had ended this so wofull a tragedye, and to all PRINCES a right worthy instruction, we paused: having passed through a miserable tyme, full of pyteous tragedyes. And seyng the reygne of Henry the fourth ensued, a man more ware and prosperous in hys doynges, although not untroubled with warres both of outforthe and inward enemyes, we began to serch what Pyers [peers] were fallen therein, wherof the number was not small: and yet because theyr examples were not muche to be noted for our purpose, we passed over all the Maskers, of whom kynge Rycharde's brother was chiefe: whych were all slayne and put to death for theyr trayterous [Page 220] attempt. And fyndynge Owen Glendoure next one of For­tune's owne whelpes, and the Percyes his confederates, I thought them unmete to be overpassed, and therefore sayd thus to the sylent cumpany, What, my maysters, is every one at once in a browne study, and hath no man affection to any of these storyes? You mynd so much some other belyke, that those do not move you. And to say the trouth, there is no special cause why they should. Howbeyt Owen Glendoure, becaus he was one of Fortune's darlynges, rather than he should be forgotten, I will tel his tale for him, under the privelidge of Martine hundred. Which OWEN, cuming out of the wilde mountains lyke the Image of Death in al pointes, (his darte onlie excepted,) so sore hath famyne and hunger consumed hym, may lament his folly after this maner."’ This process was a departure from Sackville's idea: who supposes, as I have hinted, the scene laid in hell, and that the unfortunate princes appeared to him in succession, and ut­tered their respective complaints, at the gates of Elysium, under the guidance of SORROW.

Many stanzas in the legends written by Baldwynee and Fer­rers, and their friends, have considerable merit, and often shew a command of language and versification f. But their perfor­mances have not the pathos which the subject so naturally sug­gests. They give us, yet often with no common degree of elegance and perspicuity, the chronicles of Hall and Fabyan in verse. I shall therefore, in examining this part of the MIRROUR OF MAGISTRATES, confine my criticism to Sackville's IN­DUCTION and Legend of Buckingham.

SECT. XXXI.

SACKVILLE'S INDUCTION, which was to have been placed at the head of our English tragical story, and which loses much of its dignity and propriety by being prefixed to a single life, and that of no great historical importance, is opened with the following poetical landscape of winter a.

The wrathfull winter, prochinge on apace,
With blustring blasts had all ybard the treene;
And old Saturnus with his frosty face
With chilling colde had pearst the tender greene:
The mantels rent, wherein enwrapped been
The gladsom groves, that nowe laye overthrowen,
The tapets torne, and every bloom downe blowne.
The soile that earst so seemly was to seen,
Was all despoyled of her beauty's hewe;
And soote freshe flowres, wherewith the sommers queen
Had clad the earth, now Boreas blastes downe blewe;
And small fowles flocking in theyr song did rewe
The winters wrath, wherewith eche thinge defaste
In wofull wise bewayld the sommer paste.
Hawthorne had lost his motley lyverye,
The naked twigges were shivering all for colde;
And droppinge downe the teares abundantly,
Eche thing, methought, with weping [...]ye me tolde
The cruell season, bidding me witholde
[Page 222] Myselfe within: for I was gotten out
Into the feldes where as I walkt about.
When loe the night, with mistie mantels spred,
Gan darke the daye, and dim the azure skies, &c.

The altered scene of things, the flowers and verdure of sum­mer deformed by the frosts and storms of winter, and the day suddenly overspread with darkness, remind the poet of the un­certainties of human life, the transient state of honour, and the instability of prosperity.

And sorrowing I to see the sommer flowers,
The lively greene, the lusty leas forlorne,
The sturdy trees so shattred with the showers,
The fieldes so fade, that floorisht so beforne;
It taught we wel, all earthly thinges be borne
To dye the death, for nought long time may last:
If sommors beauty yeelds to winters blast.
Then looking upwards to the heavens beams,
With nightès starres thick-powdred every where,
Which erst so glistened with the golden streames
That chearfull Phebus spred downe from his sphere,
Beholding darke, oppressing day, so neare;
The sodayne sight reduced to my mynde
The sundry chaunges that in earth we fynde.

Immediately the figure of SORROW suddenly appears, which shews the poet in a new and bolder mode of composition.

And strayt forth stalking with redoubled pace,
For that I sawe the night drew on so fast,
In black all clad there fell before my face
A piteous wight, whom woe had all forwast;
Furth from her iyen the crystall teares outbrast,
[Page 223] And syghing sore her haunds she wronge and folde,
Tare al her haire that ruth was to beholde.
Her body small, forwithered and forespent,
As is the stalke that sommers drought opprest;
Her wealked face with wofull teares besprent,
Her colour pale, and, as it seemed her best,
In woe and playnt reposed was her rest:
And as the stone that droppes of water weares,
So dented were her cheekes with fall of teares.—
I stoode agast, beholding all her plight,
Tween dread and dolour so distreynd in hart,
That while my heares upstarted with the sight,
The teares outstreamde for sorowe of her smatt.
But when I sawe no ende, that could aparte
The deadly dole which she so sore dyd make,
With dolefull voyce then thus to her I spake.
Unwrap thy woes, whatever wight thou be!
And stint betime to spill thyselfe with playnt.
Tell what thou art, and whence, for well I see
Thou canst not dure with sorowe thus attaynt.
And with that worde, of sorrowe all forfaynt,
She looked up, and prostrate as she laye,
With piteous sounde, lo! thus she gan to saye.
Alas, I wretche, whom thu [...] thou [...]eest distrayned,
With wasting woes, that never shall aslake,
SORROWE I am, in endeles tormentes payned,
Among the Furies in the infernall lake;
Where Pluto god of hell so grieslie blake
Doth holde his throne, and Lethes deadly taste
Doth reive remembrance of [...]che thyng forepast.
Whence come I am, the drery destinie,
And luckles lot, for to bemone of those,
Whom Fortune in this maze of miserie,
Of wretched chaunce, most wofull myrrours chose:
That when thou [...]ee [...]t how lightly they did lose
Theyr pompe, theyr power, and that they thought most sure,
Thou mayest soon deeme no earthlye joye may dure.

SORROW then conducts the poet to the classical hell, to the place of torments and the place of happiness.

I shall thee guyde first to the griesly lake,
And thence unto the blissfull place of rest:
Where thou shalt see and heare the playnt they make,
That whilom here bare swingeb among the best.
This shalt thou see. But great is the unrest
That thou must byde, before thou canst attayne
Unto the dreadfull place where those remayne.
And with these wordes as I upraysed stood
And gan to folowe her that straight forth paste,
Ere I was ware, into a desert wood
We nowe were come: where hand in hand embraced,
She led the way, and through the thicke so traced
As, but I had beene guyded by her might,
It was no waye for any mortal wight.
But loe! while thus amid the desert darke
We passed on, with steppes and pace unmeete,
A rumbling roar confusde, with howle and barke
Of dogs, shooke all the grounde under our feete,
And strooke the din within our eares so deepe,
As half distraught unto the ground I fell,
Besought returne, and not to visit hell.—
An hydeous hole al vast, withouten shape,
Of endles depth, orewhelmde with ragged stone,
With oughly mouth and griesly jawes doth gape,
And to our sight confounds itself in one.
Here entred we, and yedingc forth, anone
An horrible lothly lake we might discerne,
As black as pitche, that clepedd is Averne.
A deadly gulfe where nought but rubbish growes,
With fowle blake swelth in thickened lumpes that lyes,
Which upp in th' ayre such stinking vapour throwes,
That over there may flye no fowle, but dyes
Choakt with the noysom vapours that aryse.
Hither we come, whence forth we still did pace,
In dreadfull feare amid the dreadfull place.

Our author appears to have felt and to have conceived with true taste, that very romantic part of Virgil's Eneid which he has here happily copied and heightened. The imaginary beings which sate within the porch of hell, are all his own. I must not omit a single figure of this dreadful groupe, nor one com­partment of the portraitures which are feigned to be sculp­tured or painted on the SHIELD of WAR, indented with gashes deepe and wide.

And, first, within the porch and jaws of hell
Sat deep REMORSE OF CONSCIENCE, all besprent
With tears; and to herself oft would she tell
Her wretchedness, and, cursing, never stent
To sob and sigh, but ever thus lament
With thoughtful care; as she that, all in vain,
Would wear and waste continually in pain:
Her eyes unstedfast, rolling here and there,
Whirl'd on each place, as place that vengeance brought,
So was her mind continually in fear,
Tost and tormented with the tedious thought
Of those detested crimes which she had wrought;
With dreadful cheer, and looks thrown to the sky,
Wishing for death, and yet she could not die.
Next, saw we DREAD, all trembling how he shook,
With foot uncertain, profer'd here and there,;
Benumb'd with speech; and, with a gastly look,
Search'd every place, all pale and dead for fear,
His cap born up with with staring of his hair;
'Stoin'd and amazed at his own shade for dread,
And fearing greater dangers than was need.
And, next, within the entry of this lake,
Sat fell REVENGE, gnashing her teeth for ire;
Devising means how she may vengeance take;
Never in rest, 'till she have her desire;
But frets within so far forth with the fire
Of wreaking flames, that now determines she
To die by death, or 'veng'd by death to be.
When fell REVENGE, with bloody foul pretence,
Had show'd herself, as next in order set,
With trembling limbs we softly parted thence,
'Till in our eyes another sight we met;
When fro my heart a sigh forthwith I fet,
Ruing, alas, upon the woeful plight
Of MISERY, that next appear'd in sight:
His face was lean, and some-deal pin'd away [...]
And eke his hands consumed to the bone;
But, what his body was, I cannot say,
[Page 227] For on his carkass rayment had he none,
Save clouts and patches pieced one by one;
With staff in hand, and scrip on shoulders cast,
His chief defence against the winter's blast:
His food, for most, was wild fruits of the tree,
Unless sometime some crums fell to his share,
Which in his wallet long, God wot, kept he,
As on the which full daint'ly would he fare;
His drink, the running stream, his cup, the bare
Of his palm closed; his bed, the hard cold ground:
To this poor life was MISERY ybound.
Whose wretched state when we had well beheld,
With tender ruth on him, and on his feers,
In thoughtful cares forth then our pace we held;
And, by and by, another shape appears
Of greedy CARE, still brushing up the breers;
His knuckles knob'd, his flesh deep dinted in,
With tawed hands, and hard ytanned skin:
The morrow grey no sooner hath begun
To spread his light, e'en peeping in our eyes,
But he is up, and to his work yrun;
But let the night's black misty mantles rise,
And with foul dark never so much disguise
The fair bright day, yet ceaseth he no while,
But hath his candles to prolong his toil.
By him lay heavy SLEEP, the cousin of Death,
Flat on the ground, and still as any stone,
A very corpse, save yielding forth a breath;
Small keep took he, whom fortune frowned on,
Or whom she lifted up into the throne
Of high renown, but, as a living death,
So, dead alive, of life he drew the breath:
The body's rest, the quiet of the heart,
The travel's ease, the still night's feer was he,
And of our life in earth the better part;
Rever of sight, and yet in whom we see
Things oft that chance and oft that never be;
Without respect, esteemed equally
King CROESUS' pomp and IRUS' poverty.
And next, in order sad, OLD-AGE we found:
His beard all hoar, his eyes hollow and blind;
With drooping cheer still poring on the ground,
As on the place where nature him assign'd
To rest, when that the sisters had untwin'd
His vital th [...]ad, and ended with their knife
The fleeting course of fast-declining life:
There heard we him with broken and hollow plaint
Rue with himself his end approaching fast,
And all for nought his wretched mind torment
With sweet remembrance of his pleasures past,
And fresh delights of lusty youth forewaste;
Recounting which, how would he sob and shriek,
And to be young again of JOVE beseek!
But, an' the cruel fates so fixed be
That time forepast cannot return again,
This one request of JOVE yet prayed he,—
That, in such wither'd plight, and wretched pain,
As eld, accompany'd with her lothsome train,
Had brought on him, all were it woe and grief,
He might a while yet linger forth his lief,
And not so soon descend into the pit;
Where Death, when he the mortal corpse hath slain,
With rechless hand in grave doth cover it;
[Page 229] Thereafter never to enjoy again
The gladsome light, but, in the ground ylain,
In depth of darkness waste and wear to nought,
As he had ne'er into the world been brought:
But who had seen him sobbing how he stood
Unto himself, and how he would bemoan
His youth forepast,—as though it wrought him good
To talk of youth, all were his youth foregone,—
He would have mus'd, and marvel'd much, whereon
This wretched Age should life desire so fain,
And knows full well life doth but length his pain:
Crook-back'd he was, tooth-shaken, and blear-eyed;
Went on three feet, and, sometimes, crept on four;
With old lame bones, that rattled by his side;
His scalp all pil'd, and he with eld forelore,
His wither'd fist still knocking at death's door;
Fumbling, and driveling, as he draws his bread;
For brief, the shape and messenger of Death.
And fast by him pale MALADY was placed:
Sore sick in bed, her colour all foregone;
Bereft of stomach, savour, and of taste,
Ne could she brook no meat but broths alone;
Her breath corrupt; her keepers every one
Abhorring her; her sickness past recure,
Detesting physick, and all physick's cure.
But, O, the doleful sight that then we see!
We turn'd our look, and on the other side
A grisly shape of FAMINE mought we see:
With greedy looks, and gaping mouth, that cry'd
And roar'd for meat, as she should there have dy'd;
Her body thin and bare as any bone,
Whereto was left nought but the case alone,
And that, alas, was gnaw'n on every where,
All full of holes; that I ne mought refrain
From tears, to see how she her arms could tear,
And with her teeth gnash on the bones in vain,
When, all for nought, she fain would so sustain
Her starven corpse, that rather seem'd a shade
Than any substance of a creature made:
Great was her force, whom stone-wall could not stay:
Her tearing nails snatching at all she saw;
With gaping jaws, that by no means ymay
Be satisfy'd from hunger of her maw,
But eats herself as she that hath no law;
Gnawing, alas, her carkass all in vain,
Where you may count each sinew, bone, and vein.
On her while we thus firmly fix'd our eyes,
That bled for ruth of such a dreary sight,
Lo, suddenly she shright in so huge wise
As made hell gates to shiver with the might;
Wherewith, a dart we saw, how it did light
Right on her breast, and, therewithal, pale DEATH
Enthrilling it, to reve her of her b [...]eath:
And, by and by, a dumb dead corpse we saw,
Heavy, and cold, the shape of Death aright,
That daunts all earthly creatures to his law,
Against whose force in vain it is to fight;
Ne peers, ne princes, nor no mortal wight,
No towns, ne realms, cities, ne strongest tower,
But all, per [...]orce, must yield unto his power:
His dart, anon, out of the corpse he tooke,
And in his hand (a dreadful sight to see)
With great triumph [...]tsoons the same he shook,
[Page 231] That most of all my fears affrayed me;
His body dight with nought but bones, pardy;
The naked shape of man there saw I plain,
All save th [...] flesh, the sinew, and the vein.
Lastly, stood WAR, in glittering arms yclad,
With visage grim, stern look'd, and blackly hued:
In his right hand a naked sword he had,
That to the hilts was all with blood imbrued;
And in his left (that kings and kingdoms rued)
Famine and fire he held, and therewithal
He razed towns, and threw down towers and all:
Cities he sack'd, and realms (that whilom flower'd
In honour, glory', and rule, above the rest)
He overwhelm'd, and all their fame devour'd,
Consum'd, destroy'd, wasted, and never c [...]as'd
'Till he their wealth, their name, and all oppress'd:
His face forehew'd with wounds; and by his side
There hung his TARGE, with gashes deep and wide:
In mids of which depainted there we found
Deadly DEBATE, all full of snaky hair
That with a bloody fillet was ybound,
Outbreathing nought but discord every where:
And round about were pourtray'd, here and there,
The hugy hosts; DARIUS and his power,
His kings, his princes, peers, and all his flower.—
XERXES, the Persian king, yet saw I there,
With his huge host, that drank the rivers dry,
Dismounted hills, and made the vales uprear;
His host and all y [...]t saw I slain, pardy:
Thebes too I saw, all razed how it did lie
In heaps of stones; and Tyrus put to spoil,
With walls and towers flat- [...]ven'd with th [...] soil.
But Troy, (alas!) methought, above them all,
It made mine eyes in very tears consume;
When I beheld the woeful word befall,
That by the wrathful will of gods was come,
And JOVE'S unmoved sentence and foredoom
On PRIAM king and on his town so bent,
I could not lin but I must there lament;
And that the more, sith destiny was so stern
As, force perforce, there might no force avail
But she must fall: and, by her fall, we learn
That cities, towers, wealth, world, and all shall quail;
No manhood, might, nor nothing mought prevail;
All were there prest, full many a prince and peer,
And many a knight that sold his death full dear:
Not worthy HECTOR, worthiest of them all,
Her hope, her joy, his force is now for nought:
O Troy, Troy, Troy, there is no boot but bale!
The hugy horse within thy walls is brought;
Thy turrets fall; thy knights, that whilom fought
In arms amid the field, are slain in bed;
Thy gods defil'd, and all thy honour dead:
The flames upspring, and cruelly they creep
From wall to roof, 'till all to cinders waste:
Some fire the houses where the wretches sleep;
Some rush in here, some run in there as fast;
In every where or sword, or fire, they taste:
The walls are torn, the towers whirl'd to the ground;
There is no mischief but may there be found.
CASSANDRA yet there saw I how they hal'd
From PALLAS' house, with spercled tress undone,
Her wrists fast bound, and with Greek rout impal'd;
[Page 233] And PRIAM eke, in vain how he did run
To arms, whom PYRRHUS with despite hath done
To cruel death, and bath'd him in the baign
Of his son's blood before the altar slain.
But how can I descrive the doleful sight
That in the shield so lively fair did shine?
Sith in this world, I think, was never wight
Could have set forth the half not half so fine:
I can no more, but tell how there is seen
Fair ILIUM fall in burning red gledes down,
And, from the soil, great Troy, NEPTUNUS' town.

These shadowy inhabitants of hell-gate are conceived with the vigour of a creative imagination, and described with great force of expression. They are delineated with that fulness of pro­portion, that invention of picturesqu [...] [...]tributes, distinctness, animation, and amplit [...]de, of which Spenser is commonly sup­posed to have given the first specimens in our language, and which are characteristical of his poetry. We may venture to pronounce that Spenser, at least, caught his manner of design­ing allegorical personages from this model, which so greatly enlarged the former narrow bounds of our ideal imagery, as that it may justly be deemed an original in that style of painting. For we must not forget, that it is to this INDUCTION that Spenser alludes, in a sonnet prefixed to his Pastorals, in 1579, addressed To the right honourable THE LORD OF BUCKHURST, one of her maiesties priuie councell.

In vaine I thinke, right honourable lord,
By this rude rime to memorize thy name,
Whose learned Muse hath writ her owne record
In golden verse, worthy immortal fame.
[Page 234] Thou much more fit, were leisure for the same,
Thy gracious soveraignes prayses to compile,
And her imperiall m [...]jestie to frame
In loftie numbers and heroick stile.

The readers of the FAERIE QUEENE will easily point out many particular passages which Sackville's INDUCTION suggested to Spenser.

From this scene SORROW, who is well known to Charon, and to Cerberus the hideous hound of hell, leads the poet over the loathsome lake of rude Acheron, to the dominions of Pluto, which are described in numbers too beautiful to have been relished by his cotemporaries, or equalled by his successors.

Thence come we to the horrour and the hell,
The large great kyngdomes, and the dreadful raygne
Of Pluto in his trone where he dyd dwell,
The wide waste places, and the hugie playne;
The waylinges, shrykes, and sundry sorts of payne,
The syghes, the sobbes, the depe and deadly groane,
Earth, ayer, and all resounding playnt and moane e.
Thence did we passe the threefold emperie
To the utmost boundes where Rhadamanthus raignes,
Where proud folke waile their wofull miserie;
Where dreadfull din of thousand dragging chaines,
And baleful shri [...]kes of ghosts in deadly paines
[Page 235] Torturd eternally are heard most brim f
Through silent shades of night so darke and dim.
From hence upon our way we forward passe,
And through the groves and uncoth pathes we goe,
Which leade unto the Cyclops walles of brasse:
And where that mayne broad flood for aye doth floe,
Which parts the gladsome fields from place of woe:
Whence none shall ever passe t' Elizium plaine,
Or from Elizium ever turne againe.

Here they are surrounded by a troop of men, the most in armes bedight, who met an untimely death, and of whose destiny, whe­ther they were sentenced to eternal night or to blissfull peace, it was uncertain.

Loe here, quoth SORROWE, Princes of renowne
That whilom sate on top of Fortune's wheele,
Now laid full low, like wretches whurled downe
Even with one frowne, that staid but with a smile, &c.

They pass in order before SORROW and the poet. The first is Henry duke of Buckingham, a principal instrument of king Richard the third.

Then first came Henry duke of Buckingham,
His cloake of blacke, all pild, and quite forlorne,
Wringing his handes, and Fortune oft doth blame,
Which of a duke hath made him now her skorne;
With gastly lokes, as one in maner lorne,
Oft spred his armes, str [...]tcht handes he joynes as fast,
With rufull cheere and vapored eyes up [...]ast.
His cloake he rent, his manly breast he beat;
His hair al torne, about the place it layne:
My heart so moltg to see his grief so great,
As feelingly, methought, it dropt away:
His eyes they whurled about withouten staye:
With stormy syghes the place did so complayne,
As if his hart at eche had burst in twayne.
Thryse he began to tell his doleful tale,
And thryse the syghes did swalowe up his voyse;
At eche of whiche he shryked so withale,
As though the heavens ryved with the noyse:
Til at the last recovering his voyse;
Supping the teares that all his breast beraynde
On cruell Fortune weping thus he playnde.

Nothing more fully illustrates and ascertains the respective merits and genius of different poets, than a juxtaposition of their performances on similar subjects. Having examined at large Sackville's Descent into Hell, for the sake of throwing a still stronger light on his manner of treating a fiction which gives so large a scope to fancy, I shall employ the remainder of this Section in setting before my reader a general view of Dante's Italian poem, entitled COMMEDIA, containing a description of Hell, Paradise, and Purgatory, and written about the year 1310. In the mean time, I presume that most of my readers will re­collect and apply the sixth Book of Virgil: to which, however, it may be necessary to refer occasionally.

Although I have before insinuated that Dante has in this poem used the ghost of Virgil for a mystagogue, in imitation of Tully, who in the SOMNIUM Scipionis supposes Scipio to have shewn the other world to his ancestor Africanus, yet at the same time in the invention of his introduction, he seems to have had an eye on the exordium of an old forgotten Florentine [Page 237] poem called TESORETTO, written in Frottola, or a short irre­gular measure, exhibiting a cyclopede of theoretic and practic philosophy, and composed by his preceptor Brunetto Latini about the year 1270 h. Brunetto supposes himself lost in a wood, at the foot of a mountain covered with animals, flowers, plants, and fruits of every species, and subject to the supreme command of a wonderful Lady, whom he thus de­scribes. ‘"Her head touched the heavens, which served at once for a veil and an ornament. The sky grew dark or serene at her voice, and her arms extended to the extremities of the earth i."’ This bold personification, one of the earliest of the rude ages of poetry, is NATURE. She converses with the poet, and describes the creation of the world. She enters upon a most unphilosophical and indeed unpoetical detail of the physical system: developes the head of man, and points out the seat of intelligence and of memory. From physics she proceeds to morals: but her principles are here confined to theology and the laws of the church, which she couches in technical rhymes k.

Dante, like his master Brunetto, is bewildered in an unfre­quented forest. He attempts to climb a mountain, whose sum­mit is illuminated by the rising sun. A furious leopard, pressed by hunger, and a lion, at whose aspect the air is affrighted, ac­companied by a she-wolf, oppose his progress; and force him [Page 238] to fly precipitately into the profundities of a pathless valley, where, says the poet, the sun was silent.

Mi ripingeva dove'l sol tace l.

In the middle of a vast solitude he perceives a spectre, of whom he implores pity and help. The spectre hastens to his cries: it was the shade of Virgil, whom Beatrix, Dante's mis­tress, had sent, to give him courage, and to guide him into the regions of hell m. Virgil begins a long discourse with Dante; and expostulates with him for chusing to wander through the rough obscurities of a barren and dreary vale, when the top of the neighbouring mountain afforded every delight. The conver­sation of Virgil, and the name of Beatrix, by degrees dissipate the fears of the poet, who explains his situation. He returns to himself, and compares this revival of his strength and spirits to a flower smitten by the frost of a night, which again lifts its shrinking head, and expands its vivid colours, at the first gleam­ings of the morning-sun.

Qual' il fioretti dal notturno gelo
Chinati et chiusi, &c n.—

Dante, under the conduct of Virgil, penetrates hell. But he does not on this occasion always avail himself of Virgil's descriptions and mythologies. At least the formation of Dante's imageries are of another school. He feigns his hell to be a prodigious and almost bottomless abyss, which from its aperture to its lowest depth preserves a rotund shape: or rather, an immense [Page 239] perpendicular cavern, which opening as it descends into different circles, forms so many distinct subterraneous regions. We are struck with horror at the commencement of this dread­ful adventure.

The first object which the poet perceives is a gate of brass, over which were inscribed in characters of a dark hue, di colore oscuro, these verses.

Per me si và nella città dolente:
Per me si và nel eterno dolore:
Per me si và trà la perduta gente.
Giustizia mosse'l mio alto fattore:
Fece me li divina potestate,
La somma Sapienzia, e l'primo Amore o.
Dinanzi a me non fur cose create:
Se non eterne, el io duro eterno.
Lassate ogni speranza voi ch'entraste p.

That is, ‘"By me is the way to the woeful city. By me is the way to the eternal pains. By me is the way to the damned race. My mighty maker was divine Justice and Power, the Supreme Wisdom, and the First Love. Before me nothing was created. If not eternal, I shall eternally re­main. Put away all hope, ye that enter."’

There is a severe solemnity in these abrupt and comprehensive sentences, and they are a striking preparation to the scenes that ensue. But the idea of such an inscription on the brazen portal of hell, was suggested to Dante by books of chivalry; in which the gate of an impregnable enchanted castle, is often inscribed with words importing the dangers or wonders to be found within. Over the door of every chamber in Spenser's necromantic palace of Busyrane, was written a threat to the champions who pre­sumed to attempt to enter q. This total exclusion of hope from [Page 240] hell, here so finely introduced and so forcibly expressed, was probably remembered by Milton, a disciple of Dante, where he describes,

Regions of sorrow, dolefull shades, where peace
And rest can never dwell, HOPE NEVER COMES
THAT COMES TO ALL r.—

I have not time to follow Dante regularly through his dia­logues and adventures with the crouds of ghosts, antient and modern, which he meets in the course of this infernal journey. In these interviews, there is often much of the party and poli­tics of his own times, and of allusion to recent facts. Nor have I leisure particularly to display our author's punishments and phantoms. I observe in general, that the ground-work of his hell is classical, yet with many Gothic and extravagant innova­tions. The burning lakes, the fosses, and fiery towers which surround the city of DIS, and the three Furies which wait at its entrance, are touched with new strokes s. The Gorgons, the Hydra, the Chimera, Cerberus, the serpent of Lerna, and the rest of Virgil's, or rather Homer's, infernal apparitions, are dilated with new touches of the terrible, and sometimes made ridiculous by the addition of comic or incongruous circum­stances, yet without any intention of burlesque. Because Virgil had mentioned the Harpies in a single word only t, in one of the lothsome groves which Dante passes, consisting of trees whose leaves are black, and whose knotted boughs are hard as iron, the Harpies build their nests u.

Non frondi verdi, ma di color fosco,
Non rami schietti, ma nodosi e'nvolti,
Non pomi v'eran, ma stecchi con tosco.

Cacus, whom Virgil had called Semifer in his seventh book, [Page 241] appears in the shape of a Centaur covered with curling snakes, and on whose neck is perched a dragon hovering with ex­panded wings w. It is supposed that Dante took the idea of his INFERNO from a magnificent nightly representation of hell, ex­hibited by the pope in honour of the bishop of Ostia on the river Arno at Florence, in the year 1304. This is mentioned by the Italian critics in extenuation of Dante's choice of so strange a subject. But why should we attempt to excuse any absurdity in the writings or manners of the middle ages? Dante chose this subject as a reader of Virgil and Homer. The religious MYSTERY represented on the river Arno, however magnificent, was perhaps a spectacle purely orthodox, and perfectly conform­able to the ideas of the church. And if we allow that it might hint the subject, with all its inconsistencies, it never could have furnished any considerable part of this wonderful compound of clas­sical and romantic fancy, of pagan and christian theology, of real and fictitious history, of tragical and comic incidents, of fami­liar and heroic manners, and of satirical and sublime poetry. But the grossest improprieties of this poem discover an origina­lity of invention, and its absurdities often border on sublimity. We are surprised that a poet should write one hundred cantos on hell, paradise, and purgatory. But this prolixity is partly owing to the want of art and method: and is common to all early compositions, in which every thing is related circumstantially and without rejection, and not in those general terms which are used by modern writers.

Dante has beautifully enlarged Virgil's short comparison of the souls lingering on the banks of Lethe, to the numerous leaves falling from the trees in Autumn.

Come d'Autumno si levan le foglie
L'un appresso del'altra, infin che'l ramo
Vede a la terre tutte le sue spoglie;
[Page 242] Similmente, il mal seme d'Adamo
Getta si di quel lito ad una ad una
Per cenni, com'augel per suo richiamo y.

In the Fields inhabited by unhappy lovers he sees Semiramis, Achilles, Paris, and Tristan, or sir Tristram. One of the old Italian commentators on this poem says, that the last was an English knight born in Cornovaglio, or Cornwall, a city of England z.

Among many others of his friends, he sees Francisca the daughter of Guido di Polenta, in whose palace Dante died at Ravenna, and Paulo one of the sons of Malatesta lord of Rimini. This lady fell in love with Paulo; the passion was mutual, and she was betrothed to him in marriage: but her family chose rather that she should be married to Lanciotto, Paulo's eldest brother. This match had the most fatal consequences. The injured lovers could not dissemble or stifle their affection: they were surprised, and both assassinated by Lanciotto. Dante finds the shades of these distinguished victims of an unfortunate attachment at a distance from the rest, in a region of his IN­FERNO desolated by the most violent tempests. He accosts them both, and Francisca relates their history: yet the conversation is carried on with some difficulty, on account of the impetuosity of the storm which was perpetually raging. Dante, who from many circumstances of his own amours, appears to have possessed the most refined sensibilities about the delicacies of love, en­quires in what manner, when in the other world, they first com­municated their passion to each other. Francisca answers, that they were one day sitting together, and reading the romance of LANCELOT; where two lovers were represented in the same critical situation with themselves. Their changes of colour and countenance, while they were reading, often tacitly betrayed [Page 243] their yet undiscovered feelings. When they came to that passage in the romance, where the lovers, after many tender approaches, are gradually drawn by one uniform reciprocation of involuntary attraction to kiss each other, the book dropped from their hands. By a sudden impulse and an irresistible sympathy, they are tempted to do the same. Here was the commencement of their tragical history.

Noi leggiavam' un giorno per diletto
Di LANCILOTTO, comme amor le strinse;
Soli eravamo, et senza alcun sospetto.
Per più fia [...]e gli occhi ci sospinse
Quella lettura et scolorocc' il viso:
Ma sol un punto fù qual che ci vinse.
Quando legemmo il disiato riso
Esser baciato dà cotanto amante
Questi che mai da me no fia diviso
La bocca mi basciò tutto tremante:
GALEOTTOa fù il libro, et chi lo scrisse
Quel giorno più non vi legemmo avante b.

But this picture, in which nature, sentiment, and the graces are concerned, I have to contrast with scenes of a very different nature. Salvator Rosa has here borrowed the pencil Correggio. Dante's beauties are not of the soft and gentle kind.

—Through many a dark and dreary vale
They pass'd, and many a region dolorous,
O'er many a frozen many a fiery Alp c.

A hurricane suddenly rising on the banks of the river Styx is thus described.

Et gia venia sù per le torbid onde
Un fracasso d'un suon pien di spavento,
Per cui tremavan amendue le sponde;
Non altrimenti fatto che d'un vento
Impetuoso per gli avversi ardori
Che fier la salva senz' alcun rattento
Gli rami schianta i abatte, et porta i fiori,
Dinanzi polveroso và superbo,
Et fa fuggir le fiere et glipastori d.

Dante and his mystagogue meet the monster Geryon. He has the face of a man with a mild and benign aspect, but his human form ends in a serpent with a voluminous tail of immense length, terminated by a sting, which he brandishes like a scor­pion. His hands are rough with bristles and scales. His breast, back, and sides have all the rich colours displayed in the tex­tures of Tartary and Turkey, or in the labours of Arachne. To speak in Spenser's language, he is,

—A dragon, horrible and bright e.

No monster of romance is more savage or superb.

Lo dosso, e'l petto, ad amenduo le coste,
Dipinte avea di nodi, e di rotelle,
Con più color sommesse e soppraposte
Non fur ma [...] in drappo Tartari ne Turchi,
Ne fur tar tale per Aragne imposte f.

The conformation of this heterogeneous beast, as a fabulous hell is the subject, perhaps immediately gave rise to one of [Page 245] the formidable shapes which sate on either side of the gates of hell in Milton. Although the fiction is founded in the cla [...]ics.

The one seem'd woman to the waste and fair,
But ended foul in many a scaly fold
Voluminous and vast, a serpent arm'd
With mortal sting g.—

Virgil, seeming to acknowledge him as an old acquaintance, mounts the back of Geryon. At the same time Dante mounts, whom Virgil places before, ‘"that you may not, says he, be exposed to the monster's venomous sting."’ Virgil then com­mands Geryon not to move too rapidly, ‘"for, consider, what a new burthen you carry!"’

—"Gerion muoviti omai,
"Le ruote large, e lo scender sia poco:
"Pensa la nuova soma che tu hai h."

In this manner they travel in the air through Tartarus: and from the back of the monster Geryon, Dante looks down on the burning lake of Phlegethon. This imagery is at once great and ridiculous. But much later Italian poets have fallen into the same strange mixture. In this horrid situation says Dante,

I sentia già dalla man destra il gorgo
Far sotto noi un orribile stroscio:
Perche con gli occhi in giù la testa sporsi
Allor fu io più timido allo scoscio
Perioch i vidi fuochi, e sente pianti,
Oud' io tremando tutto mi rancosco i.

This airy journey is copied from the flight of Icarus and Phaeton, and at length produced the Ippogrifo of Ariosto. Nor [Page 246] is it quite improbable, that Milton, although he has greatly improved and dignified the idea, might have caught from hence his fiction of Satan soaring over the infernal abyss. At length Geryon, having circuited the air like a faulcon towering with­out prey, deposits his burthen and vanishes k.

While they are wandering along the banks of Phlegethon, as the twilight of evening approaches, Dante suddenly hears the sound of a horn more loud than thunder, or the horn of Orlando l.

Ma io senti sonare alto corno:—
Non sono si terribilimente Orlando m.

Dante descries through the gloom, what he thinks to be many high and vast towers, molte alti torri. These are the giants who warred against heaven, standing in a row, half con­cealed within and half extant without an immense abyss or pit.

Gli orribili giganti, cui minaccia
Giove del cielo ancora quando tuona n.

But Virgil informs Dante that he is deceived by appearances, and that these are not towers but the giants.

Sappi, che non son torri ma giganti
E son nel pezzo intorno della ripa
D'all umbilico in guiso, tutti quanti o.

One of them cries out to Dante with horrible voice. Ano­ther, Ephialtes, is cloathed in iron and bound with huge chains. [Page 247] Dante wishes to see Briareus: he is answered, that he lies in an interior cavern biting his chain. Immediately Ephialtes arose from another cavern, and shook himself like an earthquake.

Non fu tremuoto già tanto rubesto,
Che schotesse una torri cosi forte,
Come Fialte a scuotersi fu presto p.

Dante views the horn which had sounded so vehemently hang­ing by a leathern thong from the neck of one of the giants. Antaeus, whose body stands ten ells high from the pit, is com­manded by Virgil to advance. They both mount on his shoul­ders, and are thus carried about Cocytus. The giant, says the poet, moved off with us like the mast of a ship q. One cannot help observing, what has been indeed already hinted, how judi­ciously Milton, in a similar argument, has retained the just beauties, and avoided the childish or l [...]dicrous excesses of these bold inventions. At the same time we may remark, how Dante has sometimes heightened, and sometimes diminished by improper additions or misrepresentations, the legitimate descrip­tions of Virgil.

One of the torments of the Damned in Dante's INFERNO, is the punishment of being eternally confined in lakes of ice.

Eran l'ombre dolenti nell ghiaccia
Mettendo i denti in nota di cicogna r.

The ice is described to be like that of the Danube or Tanais. This species of infernal torment, which is neither directly war­ranted by scripture, nor suggested in the systems of the Platonic fabulists, and which has been adopted both by Shakespeare and [Page 248] Milton, has its origin in the legendary hell of the monks. The hint seems to have been taken from an obscure text in the Book of JOB, dilated by saint Jerom and the early commen­tators r. The torments of hell, in which the punishment by cold is painted at large, had formed a visionary romance, under the name of saint Patrick's Purgatory or Cave, long before Dante wrote s. The venerable Bede, who lived in the seventh century, has framed a future mansion of existence for departed souls with this mode of torture. In the hands of Dante it has assumed many fantastic and grotesque circumstances, which make us laugh and shudder at the same time.

In another department, Dante represents some of his crimi­nals rolling themselves in human ordure. If his subject led him to such a description, he might at least have used decent expressions. But his diction is not here less sordid than his imagery. I am almost afraid to transcribe this gross passage, even in the disguise of the old Tuscan phraseology.

—Quindi giù nel fos [...]o
Vidi gente attuffata in uno sterco,
Che dagli uman privati para mosso;
Et mentre che laggiu con l'occhio cerco:
Vidi un, co'l capo si da merda lordo,
Che non parea s'era laico, o cherco t.

The humour of the last line does not make amends for the nasti­ness of the image.

It is not to be supposed, that a man of strong sense and genius, whose understanding had been cultivated by a most exact education, and who had passed his life in the courts of sovereign princes, would have indulged himself in these dis­gusting fooleries, had he been at all apprehensive that his readers would have been disgusted. But rude and early poets desc [...]ib [...] [Page 249] every thing. They follow the public manners: and if they are either obscene or indelicate, it should be remembered that they wrote before obscenity or indelicacy became offensive.

Some of the Guilty are made objects of contempt by a transformation into beastly or ridiculous shapes. This was from the fable of Circe. In others, the human figure is rendered ridiculous by distortion. There is one set of criminals whose faces are turned round towards their backs.

—E'l piante de gli occhi
Le natiche bagnava per lo fesso u.

But Dante has displayed more true poetry in describing a real event than in the best of his fictions. This is in the story of Ugolino count of Pisa, the subject of a very capital picture by Reynolds. The poet, wandering through the depths of hell, sees two of the Damned gnawing the sculls of each other, which was their daily food. He enquires the meaning of this dreadful repast.

La bocca sollevò dal fiero pasto
Quel peccator, forbendola a capelli
Del capo ch'egli havea di retro guasto w.

Ugolino quitting his companion's half-devoured scull, begins his tale to this effect. ‘"We are Ugolin count of Pisa, and archbishop Ruggieri. Trusting in the perfidious counsels of Ruggieri, I was brought to a miserable death. I was com­mitted with four of my children to the dungeon of hunger. The time came when we expected food to be brought. In­stead of which, I heard the gates of the horrible tower more closely barred. I looked at my children, and could not speak.’

—"L'hora s'appressava
"Che'l cibo ne soleva essere adotto;
"E per suo sogno ciascun dubitava:
[Page 250] "Ed io senti chiavar l'uscio di sotto
"A l'ORRIBILE TORRE, ond'io guardai
"Nel viso à miei figliuoli, senza far metta.
"I could not complain. I was petrified. My children cried: and my little Anselm, Anselmuccio mio, said, Father, you look on us, what is the matter?
—"Tu guardi si, padre, che hai?"
I could neither weep, nor answer, all that day and the follow­ing night. When the scanty rays of the sun began to glim­mer through the dolorous prison,
"Com'un poco di raggio si fù messo
"Nel doloroso carcere,—
and I could again see those four countenances on which my own image was stamped, I gnawed both my hands for grief. My children supposing I did this through a desire to eat, lifting themselves suddenly up, exclaimed, O father, our grief would be less, if you would eat us!
"Ambo le mani per dolor mi morsi:
"E quei pensando ch'io'l fessi per voglia
"Di manicar, di subito levorsi
"Et disser, Padre, assai ci fia men doglia
"Se tu mangi di noi!—

‘"I restrained myself that I might not make them more miser­able. We were all silent, that day and the following. Ah cruel earth, why didst thou not swallow us up at once! "Quel di, et l'altro, stemmo tutta muti. "Ahi! dura terra, perche non l'apristi? The fourth day being come, Gaddo falling all along at my feet, cried out, My father, why do not you help me, and died. [Page 251] The other three expired, one after the other, between the fifth and sixth days, famished as you see me now. And I being seized with blindness began to crawl over them, sovra ciascuno, on hands and feet; and for three days after they were dead, continued calling them by their names. At length, famine finished my torments."’ Having said this, the poet adds, with distorted eyes he again fixed his teeth on the mangled scull x. It is not improbable, that the shades of unfortunate men, who described under peculiar situations and with their proper attributes, are introduced relating at large their histories in hell to Dante, might have given the hint to Boccace's book DE CASIBUS VIRORUM ILLUSTRIUM, On the Misfortunes of Illustrious Personages, the original model of the MIRROUR OF MAGISTRATES.

Dante's PURGATORY is not on the whole less fantastic than his HELL. As his hell was a vast perpendicular cavity in the earth, he supposes Purgatory to be a cylindric mass elevated to a prodigious height. At intervals are recesses projecting from the outside of the cylinder. In these recesses, some higher and some lower, the wicked expiate their crimes, according to the proportion of their guilt. From one department they pass to another by steps of stone exceedingly steep. On the top of the whole, or the summit of Purgatory, is a plat-form adorned with trees and vegetables of every kind. This is the Terrestrial Para­dise, which has been transported hither we know not how, and which forms an avenue to the Paradise Celestial. It is extraor­dinary that some of the Gothic painters should not have given us this subject.

Dante describes not disagreeably the first region which he traverses on leaving Hell. The heavens are tinged with sapphire, and the star of love, or the sun, makes all the orient laugh. He sees a venerable sage approach. This is Cato of Utica, who, astonished to see a living man in the mansion of ghosts, questions Dante and Virgil about the business which brought them hither. 1023 [Page 252] Virgil answers: and Cato advises Virgil to wash Dante's face, which was soiled with the smoak of hell, and to cover his head with one of the reeds which grew on the borders of the neigh­bouring river. Virgil takes his advice; and having gathered one reed, sees another spring up in its place. This is the golden bough of the Eneid, uno avulso non deficit alter. The shades also, as in Virgil, croud to be ferried over Styx: but an angel performs the office of Charon, admitting some into the boat, and rejecting others. This confusion of fable and religion destroys the graces of the one and the majesty of the other.

Through adventures and scenes more strange and wild than any in the Pilgrim's Progress, we at length arrive at the twenty­first Canto. A concussion of the earth announces the delive­rance of a soul from Purgatory. This is the soul of Statius, the favorite poet of the dark ages. Although a very improper companion for Virgil, he immediately joins our adventurers, and accompanies them in their progress. It is difficult to discover what pagan or christian idea regulates Dante's dispensation of rewards and punishments. Statius passes from Purgatory to Pa­radise, Cato remains in the place of expiation, and Virgil is condemned to eternal torments.

Dante meets his old acquaintance Forese, a debauchee of Flo­rence. On finishing the conversation, Forese asks Dante when he shall have the pleasure of seeing him again. This question in Purgatory is diverting enough. Dante answers with much serious gravity, ‘"I know not the time of death: but it cannot be too near. Look back on the troubles in which my country is involved z!"’ The dispute between the pontificate and the empire, appears to have been the predominant topic of Dante's mind. This circumstance has filled Dante's poem with strokes of satire. Every reader of Voltaire must remember that lively writer's paraphrase from the INFERNO, of the story of count Guido, in which are these inimitable lines. A Franciscan friar abandoned to Beelzebub thus exclaims.

—"Monsieur de Lucifer!
"Je suis un Saint; voyes ma robe grise:
"Je fus absous par le Chef de l'Eglise.
"J'aurai, toujours, repondit le Demon,
"Un grand respect pour l'Absolution;
"On est lavè de ses vielles sotises,
"Pourvu qu'après autres ne soient commises.
"J'ai fait souvent cette distinction
"A tes pareils: et, grâce a l'Italie,
"Le Diable sait la Theologie.
"Il dit et rit. Je ne repliquai rien
"A Belzebut, il raisonnoit trop bien.
"Lors il m'empoigne, et d'un bras roide et ferme
"Il appliqua sur ma triste épiderme
"Vingt coups de fouet, dont bien fort il me cuit:
"Que Dieu le rend à Boniface huit."

Dante thus translated would have had many more readers than at present. I take this opportunity of remarking, that our au­thor's perpetual reference to recent facts and characters is in imi­tation of Virgil, yet with this very material difference. The persons recognised in Virgil's sixth book, for instance the chiefs of the Trojan war, are the cotemporaries of the hero not of the poet. The truth is, Dante's poem is a satirical history of his own times.

Dante sees some of the ghosts of Purgatory advancing for­ward, more meagre and emaciated than the rest. He asks how this could happen in a place where all live alike without nou­rishment. Virgil quotes the example of Meleager, who wasted with a firebrand, on the gradual extinction of which his life de­pended. He also produces the comparison of a mirror reflecting a figure. These obscure explications do not satisfy the doubts of Dante. Statius, for his better instruction, explains how a child grows in the womb of the mother, how it is enlarged, and by degrees receives life and intellect. The drift of our [Page 254] author is apparent in these profound illustrations. He means to shew his skill in a sort of metaphysical anatomy. We see some­thing of this in the TESORETTO of Brunetto. Unintelligible solutions of a similar sort, drawn from a frivolous and mysterious philosophy, mark the writers of Dante's age.

The PARADISE of Dante, the third part of this poem, re­sembles his PURGATORY. Its fictions, and its allegories which suffer by being explained, are all conceived in the same chimerical spirit. The poet successively views the glory of the saints, of angels, of the holy Virgin, and at last of God himself.

Heaven as well as hell, among the monks, had its legendary description; which it was heresy to disbelieve, and which was formed on perversions or misinterpretations of scripture. Our author's vision ends with the deity, and we know not by what miraculous assistance he returns to earth.

It must be allowed, that the scenes of Virgil's sixth book have many fine strokes of the terrible. But Dante's colouring is of a more gloomy temperature. There is a sombrous cast in his imagination: and he has given new shades of horror to the classical hell. We may say of Dante, that

—Hell
Grows DARKER at his FROWN a.—

The sensations of fear impressed by the Roman poet are less harrassing to the repose of the mind: they have a more equable and placid effect. The terror of Virgil's tremendous objects is diminished by correctness of composition and elegance of style. We are reconciled to his Gorgons and Hydras, by the grace of expression, and the charms of versification.

In the mean time, it may seem a matter of surprise, that the Italian poets of the thirteenth century who restored, ad­mired, and studied the classics, did not imitate their beauties. But while they possessed the genuine models of antiquity, their [Page 255] unnatural and eccentric habits of mind and manners, their at­tachments to system, their scholastic theology, superstition, ideal love, and above all their chivalry, had corrupted every true princi­ple of life and literature, and consequently prevented the progress of taste and propriety. They could not conform to the practices and notions of their own age, and to the ideas of the antients, at the same time. They were dazzled with the imageries of Virgil and Homer, which they could not always understand or apply: or which they saw through the mist of prejudice and misconception. Their genius having once taken a false direc­tion, when recalled to copy a just pattern, produced only con­straint and affectation, a distorted and unpleasing resemblance. The early Italian poets disfigured, instead of adorning thei [...] works, by attempting to imitate the classics. The charms which we so much admire in Dante, do not belong to the Greeks and Romans. They are derived from another origin, and must be traced back to a different stock. Nor is it at the same time less surprising, that the later Italian poets, in more enlightened times, should have paid so respectful a compliment to Dante as to acknowledge no other model, and with his excellencies, to transcribe and perpetuate all his extravagancies.

SECT. XXXII.

I NOW return to the MIRROUR OF MAGISTRATES, and to Sackville's Legend of Buckingham, which follows his INDUCTION.

The Complaynt of HENRYE DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM, is writ­ten with a force and even elegance of expression, a copiousness of phraseology, and an exactness of versification, not to be found in any other parts of the collection. On the whole, it may be thought tedious and languid. But that objection unavoidably results from the general plan of these pieces. It is impossible that soliloquies of such prolixity, and designed to include much his­torical and even biographical matter, should every where sustain a proper degree of spirit, pathos, and interest. In the exor­dium are these nervous and correct couplets.

Whom flattering Fortune falsely so beguilde,
That loe, she slew, where earst ful smooth she smilde.

Again,

And paynt it forth, that all estates may knowe:
Have they the warning, and be mine the woe.

Buckingham is made to enter thus rapidly, yet with much address, into his fatal share of the civil broils between York and Lancaster.

But what may boot to stay the sisters three,
When Atropos perforce will cut the thred?
The dolefull day was come, when you might see
Northampton field with armed men orespred.

[Page 257] In these lines there is great energy.

O would to God the cruell dismall day
That gave me light fyrst to behold thy face,
With foule eclipse had reft my sight away,
The unhappie hower, the time, and eke the day, &c.

And the following are an example of the simple and sublime united.

And thou, Alecto, feede me with thy foode!
Let fall thy serpents from thy snaky heare!
For such reliefe well fits me in my moode,
To feed my plaint with horroure and with feare!
With rage afresh thy renomd worme areare.

Many comparisons are introduced by the distressed speaker. But it is common for the best poets to forget that they are de­scribing what is only related or spoken. The captive Proteus has his simile of the nightingale; and Eneas decorates his narrative of the disastrous conflagration of Troy with a variety of the most laboured comparisons.

Buckingham in his reproaches against the traiterous behaviour of his antient friend Banastre, utters this forcible exclamation, which breathes the genuine spirit of revenge, and is unloaded with poetical superfluities.

Hat [...]d be thou, disdainde of everie wight,
And pointed at whereever thou shalt goe:
A traiterous wr [...]tch, unworthy of the light
Be thou esteemde: and, to encrease thy woe,
The sound be hatefull of thy name alsoe.
And in this sort, with shame and sharpe reproch,
Leade thou thy life, till greater grief approch.

The ingenious writers of these times are perpetually deserting propriety for the sake of learned allusions. Buckingham exhorts the peers and princes to remember the fate of some of the most [Page 258] renowned heroes of antiquity, whose lives and misfortunes he relates at large, and often in the most glowing colours of poetry. Alexander's murther of Clitus is thus described in stanzas, pro­nounced by the poet and not by Buckingham.

And deeply grave within your stonie hart [...]
The dreerie dole, that mightie Macedo
With teares unfolded, wrapt in deadlie smarts,
When he the death of Clitus sorrowed so,
Whom erst he murdred with the deadlie blow;
Raught in his rage upon his friend so deare,
For which, behold loe how his panges appeare!
The launced speare he writhes out of the wound,
From which the purple blood spins in his face:
His heinous guilt when he returned found,
He throwes himself uppon the corps, alas!
And in his armes howe oft doth he imbrace
His murdred friend! And kissing him in vaine,
Forth flowe the floudes of salt repentant raine.
His friendes amazde at such a murther done,
In fearfull flockes begin to shrinke away;
And he thereat, with heapes of grief fordone,
Hateth [...]imselfe, wishing his latter day.—
He calls for death, and loathing longer life,
Bent to his bane ref [...]seth kindlie foode,
And plungde in depth of death and dolours strife
Had quelda himselfe, had not his friendes withstoode.
Loe he that thus has shed the guiltlesse bloode,
Though he were king and keper over all,
Yet chose he death, to guerdon death withall.
This prince, whos [...] peere [...]as never under sunne,
Whose glistening [...]ame the earth did overglide,
Which with his power the worlde welnigh had wonne,
His bloudy handes himsel [...]e could no [...] abide,
But folly bent with famine to have dide;
The worthie prince deemed in his regard
That death for death could be but just reward.

Our MIRROUR, having had three new editions in 1563 b, 1571 [...] and 1574 c, was reprinted in quarto in the year 1587 d, with the addition of many new lives, under the conduct of John Higgins.

Higgins lived at Winsham in Somersetshire e. He was edu­cated at Oxford, was a clergyman, and engaged in the instruc­tion of youth. As a preceptor of boys, on the plan of a former collection by Nicholas Udal, a celebrated master of Eton school, he compiled the FLOSCULI OF TERENCE, a manual famous in its time, and applauded in a Latin epigram by the elegant Latin encomiast Thomas Newton of Cheshire f. In the pedagogic character he also published ‘"HOLCOT'S DICTIONARIE, newlie corrected, amended, set in order, and enlarged, with many names of men, townes, beastes, fowles, etc. By which you may finde the Latine or Frenche of anie Englishe worde you will. By John Higgins, late student in Oxeforde g."’ In an engraved title-page are a few English verses. It is in folio, and printed for Thomas Marshe at London, 1572. The dedication to sir George Peckham knight, is written by Higgins, and is a [Page 260] good specimen of his classical accomplishments. He calls Peck­ham his [...]principal friend, and the most eminent patron of letters. A recommendatory copy of verses by Churchyard the poet is prefixed, with four Latin epigrams by others. Another of his works in the same profession is the NOMENCLATOR of Adrian Junius, translated into English, in conjunction with Abraham Flemming, and printed at London, for Newberie and Durham, in 1585 h. It is dedicated in Latin to his most bountiful patron Doctor Valentine, master of Requests, and dean of Wells, from Winsham i, 1584. From this dedication, Higgins seems to have been connected with the school of Ilminster, a neighbouring town in Somersetshire k. He appears to have been living so late as the year 1602. For in that year he published an Answer to William Perkins, a forgotten controversialist, concerning Christ's descent into hell, dedicated from Winsham.

To the MIRROUR OF MAGISTRATES Higgins wrote a new INDUCTION in the octave stanza; and without assistance of friends, began a new series from Albanact the youngest son of Brutus, and the first king of Albanie or Scotland, continued to the emperor Caracalla l. In this edition by Higgins, among the pieces after the conquest, first appeared the Life of CAR­DINAL WOLSEY, by Churchyard m; of SIR NICHOLAS BUR­DET, by Baldwine n; and of ELEANOR COBHAM o, and of HUMFREY DUKE OF GLOUCESTER p, by Ferrers. Also the Legend of KING JAMES THE FOURTH OF SCOTLAND q, [Page 261] said to have been penned fiftie yeares ago r, and of FLODDEN FIELD, said to be of equal antiquity, and subscribed FRANCIS DINGLEY s, the name of a poet who has not otherwise occurred. Prefixed is a recommendatory poem in stanzas by the abovementioned Thomas Newton of Cheshire t, who under­stood much more of Latin than of English poetry.

The most poetical passage of Higgins's performance in this collection is in his Legend of QUEENE CORDILA, or Cordelia, king Lear's youngest daughter u. Being imprisoned in a dungeon, and coucht on strawe, she sees amid the darkness of the night a griesly ghost approach,

Eke nearer still with stealing steps shee drewe:
Shee was of colour pale and deadly hewe.

Her garment was figured with various sorts of imprisonment, and pictures of violent and premature death.

Her clothes resembled thousand kindes of thrall,
And pictures plaine of hastened deathes withall.

Cordelia, in extreme terror, asks,

—What wight art thou, a foe or fawning [...]rend?
If Death thou art, I pray thee [...]ake an end—
But th' art not Death!—Art thou some Fury sent
My woefull corps with paynes more to torment?
With that she spake, "I am thy frend DESPAYRE.—
* * * * * * * * * *
"Now if thou art to dye no whit afrayde
"Here shalt thou choose of Instruments, beholde,
"Shall rid thy restlesse life."—

[Page 262] DESPAIR then, throwing her robe aside, shews Cordelia a thousand instruments of death, knives, sharpe swordes, and ponyards, all bedyde with bloode and poysons. She presents the sword wit [...] which queen Dido slew herself.

"Lo! here the blade that D [...]do' of Carthage hight, &c.

Cordelia takes this sword, but doubtfull yet to dye. DESPAIR then represents to her the state and power which she enjoyed in France, her troops of attendants, and the pleasures of the court she had left. She then points out her present melancholy con­dition and dreary situation.

She shewde me all the dongeon where I sate,
The dankish walles, the darkes, and bade me smell
And byde the [...]avour if I like it well.

Cordelia gropes f [...]r the sword, or fatall knife, in the dark, which DESPAIR places in her hand.

DESPAYRE to ayde my senceless limmes was glad,
And gave the blade: to end my woes she bad.

At length Cordelia's s [...]ght fails her so that she can see only DESPAIR who exhorts her to strike.

And by her elbowe DEATH for me did watch.

DESPAIR at last gives the blow. The temptation of the R [...]d­crosse knight by DESPAIR in Spenser' [...] FAERIE QUEENE, seems to have been copied, yet with high improvements, from this scene. These stanzas of Spenser bear a strong res [...]mblance to what I have cited from CORDELIA'S Legend.

Then gan the villainew him to oueraw,
And brought unto him swords, rope [...], poysons, fire,
And all that might him to perdition draw;
[Page 263] And bade him chuse what death he would desire:
For death was due [...]o him that had prouokt God's ire.
But when as none of them he sawe him take,
He to him raught a dagger sharpe and keene,
And gaue it him in hand: his hand did quake
And tremble like a lease of aspin greene,
And troubled bloud through his pale face was seene
To come and goe, with tydinges from the hart,
As it a running messenger had beene.
At last, resolv'd to worke his finall smart
He lifted up his hand that backe againe did start x.

The three first books of the FAERIE QUEENE were published in 1590. Higgins's Legend of Cordelia in 1587.

At length the whole was digested anew with additions, in 1610, by Richard Niccols, an ingenious poet, of whom more will be said hereafter, under the following title. ‘"A MIR­ROUR FOR MAGISTRATES y, being a true Chronicle-h [...]story of the untimely falles of such unfortunate princes and men of note as have happened since the first entrance of Brute into this Iland untill this our age. NEWLY ENLARGED with a last part called a WINTER NIGHT'S VISION being an addition of such Tra­gedies especially famous as are exempted in the former Historie, with a poem annexed called ENGLANDS ELIZA. At London, imprinted by Felix Kyngston, 1610 z."’ Niccols arranged his edition thus. Higgins's INDUCTION is at the head of the Lives from Brutus to the Conquest. Those from the conquest to LORD CROMWELL'S lege [...]d written by Drayton and now [Page 264] first added a, are introduced by Sackville's INDUCTION, After this are placed such lives as had been before omitted, ten in number, written by Niccols himself, with an INDUCTION b. As it illustrates the history of this work, especially of Sackville's share in it, I will here insert a part of Niccols's preface pre­fixed to those TRAGEDIES which happened after the conquest, beginning with that of Robert Tresili [...]n. ‘"Hauing hitherto continued the storie from the first entrance of BRVTE into this iland, with the FALLES of svch PRINCES as were neuer before this time in one volume comprised, I now proceed with the rest, which take their beginning from the Co [...]quest: whose penmen being many and diuerse, all diuerslie affected in the method of this their MIRROUR, I purpose onlie to follow the intended scope of that most honorable personage, who by how mvch he did surpasse the rest in the eminence of [...]s noble condition, by so mvch he hath exceeded them all in the excellencie of his heroicall stile, which with golden pen he hath limmed out to posteritie in that worthie object of his minde the TRAGEDIE OF THE DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM, and in his Preface then intit [...]led MASTER SACK [...]ILS INDUCTION. This worthy president of learning intended to perfect all this storie of himselfe from the Conquest. Being called to a more serious expence of his time in the great state affaires of his most royall ladie and soueraigne, he left the dispose therof to M. Baldwine, M. Ferrers, and others, the compose [...]s of these Tragedies: who continving their methode, which was by way of dialogue or interlocvtion betwixt euerie Tragedie, gaue it onlie place before the dvke of Bvckingham's COMPLAINT. Which order I since hauing altered, haue placed the INDUCTION in the beginninge, with euerie Tra­gedie following according to svccession and ivst compvtation of time, which before was not obserued c."’

[Page 265] In the Legend of king Richard the Thir [...], Niccols appears to have copied some passages from Shakespeare's Tragedy on that history. In the opening of the play Richard says,

Now are our brows bound with victorious w [...]eaths,
Our bruised arms hung up for monuments:
Our stern alarums changed to merry meetings;
Our dreadfull marches to delightfull measures.
Grim-visag'd War hath smooth'd his wrinkled front;
And now, instead of mounting barbed steeds,
To fright the souls of fearfull adversaries,
He capers nimbly in a lady's chamber
To the lascivious pleasing of a lute c.

These lines evidently gave rise to part of Richard's soliloquy in Niccols's Legend.

—The battels fought in field before
Were turn'd to meetings of sweet amitie:
The war-god's thundring cannons dreadfull rore,
And rattling drum-sounds warlike harmonie,
To sweet-tun'd noise of pleasing min [...]trals [...]e.—
God Mars laid by his Launce and tooke his Lute,
And turn'd his rugged frownes to smiling lookes;
In stead of crimson fields, warres fatall fruit,
He bathed his limbes in Cypre's warbling brookes,
And set his thoughts upon her wanton lookes d.

Part of the tent-scene in Shakespeare is also imitated by Niccols. Richard, starting from his horrid dream, says,

Methought the souls of all that I had murder'd
Came to my tent, and every one did threat
To morrow's vengeance on the head of Richard e.

So Niccols,

I thought that all those murthered ghosts, whom I
By death had sent to their vntimely graue,
With balefull noise about my tent did crie,
And of the heauens with sad complaint did craue,
That they on guiltie wretch might vengeance haue:
To whom I thought the i [...]dge of heauen gaue eare,
And gainst me gaue a iudgement full of feare f.

But some of the stanzas immediately following, which are formed on Shakespeare's ideas, yet with some original imagina­tion, will give the reader the most favourable idea of Niccols as a contributor to this work.

For loe, eftsoones, a thousand hellish hags,
Leauing th' abode of their infernall cell,
Seasing on me, my hatefull body drags
From forth my bed into a place like hell,
Where fiends did naught but bellow, howle and yell,
Who in sterne strife stood gainst each other bent,
Who should my hatefull bodie most torment.
Tormented in such trance long did I lie,
Till extreme feare did rouze me where I lay,
And caus'd me from my naked bed to flie:
Alone within my tente I durst not stay,
This dreadfull dreame my soule did so affray:
When wakt I was from sleepe, I for a space
Thought I had beene in some infernall place.
About mine eares a buzzing feare still flew,
My fainting knees languish for want of might;
Vpon my bodie stands an icie dew;
My heart is dead within, and with affright
The haire vpon my head doth stand vpright:
Each limbe abovt me quaking, doth resemble
A riuers rush, that with the wind doth tremble.
Thus with my guiltie soules sad torture torne
The darke nights dismall houres I past away:
But at cockes crowe, the message of the morne,
My feare I did conceale, &c g.

If internal evidence was not a proof, we are sure from other evidences that Shakespeare's tragedy preceded Niccols's legend. The tragedy was written about 1597. Niccols, at eighteen years of age, was admitted into Magdalene college in Oxford, in the year 1602 h. It is easy to point out other marks of imitation. Shakespeare has taken nothing from Seagars's Ri­chard the third, printed in Baldwine's collection, or first edition, in the year 1559. Shakespeare, however, probably catched the idea of the royal shades, in the same scene of th [...] tragedy be­fore us, appearing in succession and speaking to Richard and [Page 268] Richmond, from the general plan of the MIRROUR OF MA­GISTRATES: more especially, as many of Shakespeare's ghosts there introduced, for instance, King Henry the sixth, Clarence, Rivers, Hastings, and Buckingham, are the personages of five of the legends belonging to this poem.

SECT. XXXIII.

BY way of recapitulating what has been said, and in order to give a connected and uniform view of the MIRROUR OF MAGISTRATES in its most complete and extended state, its original contents and additions, I will here detail the subjects of this poem as they stand in this last or Niccols's edition of 1610, with reference to two preceding editions, and some other incidental particularities.

Niccols's edition, after the Epistle Dedicatorie prefixed to Higgins's edition of 1587, an Advertisement To the Reader by Niccols, a Table of Contents, and Thomas Newton's re­commendatory verses abovementioned, begins with an Induction called the AUTHOR'S INDUCTION, written by Higgins, and properly belonging to his edition. Then follow these Lives.

Albanact youngest son of Brutus a. Humber king of the Huns. King Locrine eldest son of Brutus. Queen Elstride concubine of Locrine. Sabrina daughter of Locrine. King Madan. King Malin. King Mempric. King Bladud. Queen Cordelia. Morgan king of Albany. King Jago. Ferrex. Porrex. King Pinnar slain by Molucius Donwallo. King Stater. King Rudacke of Wales. King Kimarus. King Morindus. King Emerianus. King Cherinnus. King Varianus. Irelanglas cousin to Ca [...]ibelane. Julius Cesar. Claudius Tiberius Nero. Caligula. King Guiderius. Lelius Hamo. Tiberius Drusus. Domitius Nero. Galba. Vitellius. Londric the Pict. Severus. Fulgentius a Pict. Geta. Caracalla b. All these from Albanact, and in th [...] [Page 270] same order, form the first part of Higgins's edition of the year 1587 c. But none of them are in Baldwyne's, or the first, col­lection, of the year 1559. And, as I presume, these lives are all written by Higgins. Then follow in Niccols's edition, Carausius, Queen Helena, Vortigern, Uther Pendragon, Cad­wallader, Sigebert, Ebba, Egelred, Edric, and Harold, all writ­ten by Thomas Blener Hasset, and never before printed. We have next a new title d, ‘"The variable Fortvne and vnhappie Falles of svch princes as hath happened since the Conquest. Wherein may be seene, &c. At London, by Felix Kyngston. 1609."’ Then, after an Epistle to the Reader, subscribed R. N. that is Richard Niccols, follow, Sackville's INDUCTION. Cavyll's Roger Mortimer. Ferrers's Tresilian. Ferrers's Thomas of Woodstock. Churchyard's Mowbray. Ferrers's King Richard the second. Phaer's Owen Glendour. Henry Percy. Bald­wyne's Richard earl of Cambridge. Baldwyne's Montague earl of Salisbury. Ferrers's Eleanor Cobham. Ferrers's Humfrey duke of Gloucester. Baldwyne's William De La Poole earl of Suffolk. Baldwyne's Jack Cade. Ferrers's Edmund duke of Somerset. Richard Plantagenet duke of York. Lord Clifford. Tiptoft earl of Worcester. Richard lord Warwick. King Henry the sixth. George Plantagenet duke of Clarence. Skelton's King Edward the fourth. Woodvile lord Rivers. Dolman's Lord Hastings. Sackville's Duke of Buckingham. Colling­burne. Cavyll's Blacksmith. Higgins's Sir Nicholas Burdet. Churchyard's Jane Shore. Churchyard's Wolsey. Drayton's Lord Cromwell. All these e, Humfrey, Cobham, Burdet, Crom­well, and Wolsey, excepted, form the whole, but in a less chro­nological disposition, of Baldwyne's collection, or edition, of the year 1559, as we have seen above: from whence they were re­printed, with the addition of Humfrey, Cobham, Burdet, and Wolsey, by Higgins, in his edition aforesaid of 1587, and where Wolsey closes the work. Another title then appears in Niccols's [Page 271] edition f, ‘"A WINTER NIGHTS VISION. Being an Addition of svch Princes especially famovs, who were exempted in the for­mer HISTORIE. By Richard Niccols, Oxon. Magd. Hall. At London, by Felix Kyngston, 1610."’ An Epistle to the Reader, and an elegant Sonnet to Lord Charles Howard lord High Ad­miral, both by Niccols, are prefixed g. Then follows Niccols's INDUCTION to these new lives h. They are, King Arthur. Ed­mund Ironside. Prince Alfred. Godwin earl of Kent. Robert Cur­those. King Richard the first. King John. King Edward the second. The two Young Princes murthered in the Tower, and King Richard the third i. Our author, but with little propriety, has annexed ‘"ENGLAND'S ELIZA, or the victoriovs and trivm­phant reigne of that virgin empresse of sacred memorie Eli­zabeth Queene of England, &c. At London, by Felix Kyngston, 1610."’ This is a title page. Then follows a Sonnet to the virtuous Ladie the Lady Elisabeth Clere, wife to sir Francis Clere, and an Epistle to the Reader. A very poetical INDUCTION is prefixed to the ELIZA, which contains the history of queen Elisabeth, then just dead, in the octave stanza. Niccols, however, has not entirely preserved the whole of the old collection, although he made large additions. He has omit­ted King James the first of Scotland, which appears in Bald­wyne's edition of 1559 k, and in Higgins's of 1587 l. He has also omitted, and probably for the same obvious reason, king James the fourth of Scotland, which we find in Higgins m. Nor [Page 272] has Niccols retained the Battle of Flodden-field, which is in Higgins's edition n. Nicc [...]ls has also omitted Seagars's King Richard the Third, which first occurs in Baldwyne's edition of 1559 o, and afterwards in Higgins's of 1587 p. But Niccols has written a new Legend on this subject, cited above, and one of the best of his additional lives q. This edition by Nic­cols, printed by Felix Kyngston in 1610, I believe was never reprinted. It contains eight hundred and seventy-five pages.

The MIRROUR of MAGISTRATES is obliquely ridiculed in bishop Hall's SATIRES, published in 1597.

Another, whose more heavie-hearted saint
Delights in nought but notes of ruefull plaint,
Urgeth his melting muse with solemn teares,
Rhyme of some drearie fates of LUCKLESS PEERS.
Then brings he up some BRANDED WHINING GHOST
To tell how old Misfortunes have him tost r.

That it should have been the object even of an ingenious satirist, is so far from proving that it wanted either merit or popularity, that the contrary conclusion may be justly inferred. It was, however, at length superseded by the growing reputation of a new poetical chronicle, entitled ALBION'S ENGLAND, published before the beginning of the reign of James the first. [Page 273] That it was in high esteem throughout the reign of queen Eli­sabeth, appears, not only from its numerous editions, but from the testimony of sir Philip Sidney, and other cotemporary wri­ters f. It is ranked among the most fashionable pieces of the times, in the metrical preface prefixed to Jasper Heywood's THYESTES of Seneca, translated into English verse, and pub­lished in 1560 s. It must be remembered that only Baldwyne's part had yet appeared, and that the translator is supposed to be speaking to Seneca.

In Lyncolnes Inne, and Temples twayne,
Grayes Inne, and many mo,
Thou shalt them fynde whose paynefull pen
Thy verse shall florishe so;
That Melpomen, thou wouldst well weene,
Had taught them for to wright,
And all their woorks with stately style
And goodly grace to endight.
There shalt thou se the selfe same Northe,
Whose woork his witte displayes;
And DYALL doth of PRINCES paynte,
And preache abroade his prayse t.
There Sackvyldes SONNETSu sweetly sauste,
[Page 274] And featlye syned bee:
There Norton'sw Ditties do delight,
There Yelverton'sx do flee
Well pewrde with pen: such yong men three
As weene thou mightst agayne,
To be begotte as Pallas was
Of myghtie Jove his brayne.
There heare thou shalt a great reporte
Of BALDWYNE'S worthie name,
Whose MIRROUR doth of MAGISTRATES
Proclayme eternall fame.
And there the gentle Blunduilley is
By name and eke by kynde,
Of whom we learne by Plutarches lore
What frute by foes to fynde.
There Bauande bydes z, that turnde his toyle
A common wealth to frame,
And greater grace in English gyves
To woorthy authors name.
There Googe a gratefull name has gotte,
Reporte that runneth ryfe;
Who crooked compasse doth describe
And Zodiake of lyfe a.—
[Page 275] A pryncely place in Parnasse hill
For these there is preparde,
Whence crowne of glitteryng glorie hangs
For them a right rewarde.
Whereas the lappes of Ladies nyne,
Shall dewly them defende,
That have preparde the lawrell leafe
About theyr heddes to bende.
And where their pennes shall hang full high, &c.

These, he adds, are alone qualified to translate Seneca's tragedies.

In a small black-lettered tract entitled the TOUCH-STONE OF WITTES, chiefly compiled, with some slender additions, from William Webbe's DISCOURSE OF ENGLISH POETRIE, written by Edward Hake, and printed at London by Edmund Botifaunt in 1588, this poem is mentioned with applause. ‘"Then have we the MIRROUR OF MAGISTRATES lately augmented by my friend mayster John Higgins, and penned by th [...] choysest learned wittes, which for the stately-proportioned uaine of the heroick style, and good meetly proportion of uerse, may challenge the best of Lydgate, and all our late rhymers b."’ That sensible old English critic Edmund Bolton, [Page 276] in a general criticism on the style of our most noted poets before the year 1600, places the MIRROUR OF MAGISTRATES in a high rank. It is under that head of his HYPERCRITICA, entitled ‘"Prime Gardens for gathering English according to the true gage or standard of the tongue about fifteen or sixteen years ago."’ The extract is a curious piece of criticism, as writ­ten by a judicious cotemporary. Having mentioned our prose writers, the chief of which are More, Sidney, queen Elisabeth, Hooker, Saville, cardinal Alan, Bacon, and Raleigh, he pro­ceeds thus. ‘"In verse there are Edmund Spenser's HYMNES c. I cannot advise the allowance of other his poems as for practick English, no more than I can Jeffrey Chaucer, Lydgate, Pierce Plowman, or LAUREATE Skelton. It was laid as a fault to the charge of Salust, that he used some old outworn words stoln out of Cato in his books de Originibus. And for an historian in our tongue to affect the like out of those our poets, would be accounted a foul oversight.—My judgement is nothing at all in poems or poesie, and therefore I dare not go far; but will simply deliver my mind concerning those authors among us, whose English hath in my conceit most propriety, and is nearest to the phrase of court, and to the speech used among the noble, and among the better sort in London: the two sovereign seats, and as it were parliament tribunals, to try the question in. Brave language are Chap­man's Iliads.—The works of Samuel Daniel containe some­what [Page 277] aflat, but yet withal a very pure and copious English [...] and words as warrantable as any mans, and fitter perhaps for prose than measure. Michael Drayton's Heroical Epistles are well worth the reading also for the purpose of our subject, which is to furnish an English historian with choice and copy of tongue. Queen Elizabeth's verses, those which I have seen and read, some exstant in the elegant, witty, and artificial book of the ART OF ENGLISH POETRIE, the work, as the fame is, of one of her gentlemen-pensioners, Puttenham, are princely as her prose. Never must be forgotten St. PETER'S COMPLAINT, and those other serious poems said to be father Southwell's: the English whereof, as it is most proper, so the sharpness and light of wit is very rare in them. Noble Henry Constable was a great master in English tongue, nor had any gentleman of our nation a more pure, quick, or higher delivery of conceit, witness among all other that Sonnet of his before his Majesty's LEPANTO. I have not seen much of sir Edward Dyer's poetry. Among the lesser late poets, George Gascoigne's Works may be en­dured. But the best of these times, if Albion's England be not preferred, for our business, is the MIRROUR OF MAGISTRATES, and in that MIRROUR [...] Sackvil's INDUC­TION, the work of Thomas afterward earl of Dorset and lord treasurer of England: whose also the famous Tragedy of GORDOBUC, was the best of that time, even in sir Philip Sidney's judgement; and all skillful Englishmen cannot but ascribe as much thereto, for his phrase and eloquence therein. But before in age, if not also in noble, courtly, and lustrous English, is that of the Songes and Sonnettes of Henry Howard earl of Surrey, (son of that victorious prince, the duke of Norfolk, and father of that learned Howard his most lively image Henry earl of Northampton,) written chiefly by him, and by sir Thomas Wiat, not the dangerous commotioner, but his worthy father. Nevertheless, they who commend those poems and exercises of honourable wit, if they have [Page 278] seen that incomparable earl of Surrey his English translation of Virgil's Eneids, which, for a book or two, he admirably rendreth, almost line for line, will bear me witness that those other were foils and sportives. The English poems of sir Walter Raleigh, of John Donne, of Hugh Holland, but especially of sir Foulk Grevile in his matchless MUSTAPHA, are not easily to be mended. I dare not presume to speak of his Majesty's exercises in this heroick kind. Because I see them all left out in that which Montague lord bishop of Win­chester hath given us of his royal writings. But if I should declare mine own rudeness rudely, I should then confess, that I never tasted English more to my liking, nor more smart, and put to the height of use in poetry, than in that vital, judicious, and most practicable language of Benjamin Jonson's poems d."’

[Page 279] Among several proofs of the popularity of this poem afforded by our old comedies, I will mention one in George Chapman's MAY-DAY printed in 1611. A ge [...]tleman of the most elegant taste for reading, and highly accomplished in the current books of the times, is called ‘"One that has read Marcus Aurelius e, Gesta Romanorum, and the MIRROUR OF MAGISTRATES f."’

The books of poetry which abounded in the reign of queen Elisabeth, and were more numerous than any other kinds of wri­ting in our language, gave birth to two collections of FLOWERS selected from the works of the most fashionable poets. The [Page 280] first of these is, ‘"ENGLAND'S PARNASSUS. Or, the choysest Flowers of our moderne Poets, with their poeticall Compari­sons, Descriptions of Bewties, Personages, Castles, Pallaces, Mountaines, Groues, Seas, Springs, Riuers, &c. Whereunto are annexed other various Discourses g both pleasaunt and profit­able. Imprinted at London for N. L. C. B. and Th. Hayes [...] 1600 h."’ The collector is probably Robert Allot i, whose initials R. A. appear subscribed to two Sonnets prefixed, one to sir Thomas Mounson, and the other to the Reader. The other compilation of this sort is entitled, ‘"BELVIDERE, or the Gar­den of the Muses. London, imprinted for Hugh Astly, 1600 k."’ The compiler is one John Bodenham. In both of [Page 281] these, especially the former, the MIRROUR OF MAGISTRATES is cited at large, and has a conspicuous share k. At the latter end of the reign of queen Elisabeth, as I am informed from some curious manuscript authorities, a thin quarto in the black letter was published, with this title, ‘"The MIRROUR OF MIRROVRS, or all the tragedys of the Mirrovr for Magis­trates abbreuiated in breefe histories in prose. Very necessary for those that haue not the Cronicle. London, imprinted for James Roberts in Barbican, 1598 l."’ This was an attempt [Page 282] to familiarise and illustrate this favorite series of historic solilo­quies: or a plan to present its subjects, which were now become universally popular in rhyme, in the dress of prose.

It is reasonable to suppose, that the publication of the MIR­ROUR OF MAGISTRATES enriched the stores, and extended the limits, of our drama. These lives are so many tragical speeches in character. We have seen, that they suggested scenes to Shake­speare. Some critics imagine, that HISTORICAL Plays owed their origin to this collection. At least it is certain, that the writers of this MIRROUR were the first who made a poetical use of the English chronicles recently compiled by Fabyan, Hall, and Hollinshed, which opened a new field of subjects and events; and, I may add, produced a great revolution in the state of popular knowledge. For before those elaborate and volumi­nous compilations appeared, the History of England, which had been shut up in the Latin narratives of the monkish annalists, was unfamiliar and almost unknown to the general reader.

SECT. XXXIV.

IN tracing the gradual accessions of the MIRROUR OF MA­GISTRATES, an incidental departure from the general line of our chronologic series has been incurred. But such an anti­cipation was unavoidable, in order to exhibit a full and uninter­ [...]upted view of that poem, which originated in the reign of Mary, and was not finally completed till the beginning of the seventeenth century. I now therefore return to the reign of queen Mary.

To this reign I assign Richard Edwards, a native of Somer­setshire about the year 1523. He is said by Wood to have been a scholar of Corpus Christi college in Oxford: but in his early years, he was employed in some department about the court. This circumstance appears from one of his poems in the PARA­DISE OF DAINTIE DEVISES, a miscellany which contains many of his pieces.

In youthfull yeares when first my young desires began
To pricke me forth to serve in court, a slender tall young man,
My fathers b [...]essing then, I asked upon my knee,
Who blessing me with trembling hand, these wordes gan say to me,
My sonne, God guide thy way, and shield thee from mischaunce,
And make thy just desartes in court, thy poore estate to advance, &c a.

In the year 1547, he was appointed a senior student of Christ­church in Oxford, then newly founded. In the British Museum [Page 284] there is a small set of manuscript sonnets signed with his initials, addressed to some of the beauties of the courts of queen Mary, and of queen Elisabeth b. Hence we may conjecture, that he did not long remain at the university. About this time he was pro­bably a member of Lincoln's-inn. In the year 1561, he was constituted a gentleman of the royal chapel by queen Elisabeth, and master of the singing boys there. He had received his musical education, while at Oxford, under George Etheridge c.

When queen Elisabeth visited Oxford in 1566, she was at­tended by Edwards, who was on this occasion employed to com­pose a play called PALAMON AND ARCITE, which was acted before her majesty in Christ-church hall d. I believe it was never printed. Another of his plays is DAMON AND PYTHIAS, which was acted at court. It is a mistake, that the first edition of this play is the same that is among Mr. Garrick's collection, [Page 285] printed by Richard Johnes, and dated 1571 e. The first edition was printed by William How in Fleet-street, in 1570, with this title, ‘"The tragical comedie of DAMON AND PITHIAS, newly imprinted as the same w [...]s playde before the queenes maiestie by the children of her graces chapple. Made by Mayster Edward then being master of the children f."’ There is some degree of low humour in the dialogues between Grimme the collier and the two lacquies, which I presume was highly pleasing to the queen. He probably wrote many other dramatic pieces now lost. Puttenham having mentioned lord Buckhurst and Master Edward Ferrys, or Ferrers, as most eminent in tra­gedy, gives the prize to Edwards for Comedy and Interlude g. The word Interlude is here of wide extent. For Edwards, be­sides that he was a writer of regular dramas, appears to have been a contriver of masques, and a composer of poetry for pa­geants. In a word, he united all those arts and accomplish­ments which minister to popular pleasantry: he was the first fiddle, the most fashionable sonnetteer, the readiest rhymer, and the most facetious mimic, of the court. In consequence of his love and his knowledge of the histrionic art, he taught the choristers over which he presided to act plays; and they were formed into a company of players, like those of saint Paul's cathedral, by the queen's licence, under the superintendency of Edwards h.

The most poetical of Edward's ditties in the PARADISE OF DAINTIE DEVISES is a des [...]ription of May i. The rest are moral sentences in stanzas. His SOUL-KNELL, supposed to [Page 286] have been written on his death-bed, was once celebrated k. His popularity seems to have altogether arisen from those pleasing talents of which no specimens could be transmitted to posterity, and which prejudiced his partial cotemporaries in favour of his poetry. He died in the year 1566 l.

In the Epitaphs, Songs, and Sonets of George Turbervile, printed in 1570, there are two elegies on his death; which record the places of his education, ascertain his poetical and musical character, and bear ample testimony to the high distinction in which his performances, more particularly of the dramatic kind, were held. The fist is by Turbervile himself, entitled, ‘"An Epitaph on Maister Edwards, sometime Maister of the Children of the Chappell and gentleman of Lyncolnes inne of court."’

Ye learned Muses nine
And sacred sisters all;
Now lay your cheerful cithrons downe,
And to lamenting fall.—
For he that led the daunce,
The chiefest of your traine,
I meane the man that Edwards height,
By cruell death is slaine.
Ye courtiers chaunge your cheere,
Lament in wastefull wise;
For now your Orpheus has resignde,
In clay his carcas lies.
O ruth! he is bereft,
That, whilst he lived here,
For poets penne and passinge wit
Could have no English peere.
[Page 287] His vaine in verse was such,
So stately eke his stile,
His feate in forging sugred songes
With cleane and curious file m [...]
As all the learned Greekes,
And Romaines would repine,
If they did live againe, to vewe
His verse with scornefull eine n.
From Plautus he the palm
And learned Terence wan, &c o.

The other is written by Thomas Twyne, an assistant in Phaer's Translation of Virgil's Eneid into English verse, educa­ted a few years after Edwards at Corpus Christi college, and an actor in Edwards's play of PALAMON AND ARCITE before queen Elisabeth at Oxford in 1566 p. It is entitled, ‘"An Epitaph vpon the death of the worshipfull Mayster Richarde [Page 288] Edwardes late Mayster of the Children in the queene [...] maiesties chapell."’

O happie house, O place
Of Corpus Christi q, thou
That plantedst first, and gaust the root
To that so braue a bow r:
And Christ-church s, which enioydste
The fruit more ripe at fill,
Plunge up a thousand sighes, for griefe
Your trickling teares distill.
Whilst Childe and Chapell dure t,
[Page 289] Whilst court a court shall be;
Good Edwards, eche astatu shall much
Both want and wish for thee!
Thy tender tunes and rhymes
Wherein thou wontst to play,
Eche princely dame of court and towne
Shall beare in minde away.
Thy DAMONw and his Friend x,
[Page 290] ARCITE and PALAMON,
With mo [...] y full fit for princes eares, &c z.

Francis Meres, in his ‘"PALLADIS TAMIA, Wits Treasurie, being the second part of WITS COMMONWEALTH,"’ pub­lished in 1598, recites Maister EDWARDES of her maiesties chapel as one of the best for comedy, together with ‘"Edward earle of Oxforde, doctor Gager of Oxford a, maister Rowly once a rare scholler of Pembrooke Hall in Cambridge, eloquent and wittie John Lillie, Lodge, Gascoygne, Greene, Shakespeare, Thomas Nash, Thomas Heywood, Anthony Mundye b, our [Page 291] best plotter, Chapman, Porter, Wilson, Hathway, and Henry Chettle c."’ Puttenham, the author of the Arte of English [Page 292] Poe [...]ie, mentions the ‘"earle of Oxford, and maister Edwardes of her majesties chappel, for comedy and enterlude d."’

Among the books of my friend the late Mr. William Collins [Page 293] of Chichester, now dispersed, was a Collection of short comic stories in prose, printed in the black letter under the year 1570, ‘"sett forth by maister Richard Edwardes mayster of her maies­ties reuels."’ Undoubtedly this is the same Edwards: who from this title expressly appears to have been the general con­ductor of the court festivities: and who most probably succeeded in this office George Ferrers, one of the original authors of the MIRROUR OF MAGISTRATES e. Among these tales was that [Page 294] of the INDUCTION OF THE TINKER in Shakespeare's TAMING OF THE SHREW: and perhaps Edwards's story-book was the immediate source from which Shakespeare, or rather the author of the old TAMING OF A SHREW, drew that diverting apo­logue f. If I recollect right, the circumstances almost exactly tallied with an incident which Heuterus relates, from an Epistle of Ludovicus Vives, to have actually happened at the marriage of Duke Philip the Good of Burgundy, about the year 1440. I will give it in the words, either of Vives, or of that perspicuous annalist, who flourished about the year 1580. ‘"Nocte quadam a caena cum aliquot praecipuis amicorum per urbem deam­bulans, jacentem conspicatus est medio foro hominem de plebe ebrium, altum stertentem. In eo visum est experiri quale esset vitae nostrae ludicrum, de quo illi interdum essent collocuti. Jussit hominem deferri ad Palatium, et lecto Ducali collocari, nocturnum Ducis pileum capiti ejus imponi, exu­taque sordida veste linea, aliam e tenuissimo ei lino indui. De mane ubi evigilavit, praesto fuere pueri nobiles et cubicularii Ducis, qui non aliter quam ex Duce ipso quaererent an luberet surgere, et quemadmodum vellet eo die vestiri. Prolata sunt Ducis vestimenta. Mirari homo ubi se eo lo [...]i vidit. In­dutus est, prodiit e cubiculo, adfuere proceres qui illum ad sacellum deducerent. Interfuit sacro, datus est illi osculan­dus liber, et reliqua penitus ut Duci. A sacro ad prandium instructissimum. A prandio cubicularius attulit chartas luso­rias, pecuniae acervum. Lusit cum magnatibus, sub serum [Page 295] deambulavit in hortulis, venatus est in leporario, et cepit aves aliquot aucupio. Caena peracta est pari celebritate qua pran­dium. Accensis luminibus inducta sunt musica instrumenta, puellae atque nobiles adolescentes saltarunt, exhibitae sunt fa­bulae, dehinc comessatio quae hilaritate atque invitationibus ad potandum producta est in multam noctem. Ille vero largiter se vino obruit praestantissimo; et postquam collapsus in somnum altissimum, jussit eum Dux vestimentis prioribus indui, atque in eum locum reportari, quo prius fuerat repertus: ibi transegit noctem totam dormiens. Postridie experrectus caepit secum de vita illa Ducali cogitare, incertum habens fuissetne res vera, an visum quod animo esset per quietem observatum. Tandem collatis conjectu [...]is omnibus atque argumentis, statuit somnium fuisse, et ut tale uxori liberis ac viris narravit. Quid interest inter diem illius et nostros aliquot annos? Nihil penitus, nisi quod hoc est paulo diuturnius somnium, ac si quis unam duntaxat horam, alter vero decem somniasset g."’

To an irresistible digression, into which the magic of Shake­speare's name has insensibly seduced us, I hope to be pardo [...]d for adding another narrative of this frolic, from the ANA­TOMY OF MELANCHOLY by Democritus junior, or [...] Bur­ton, a very learned and ingenious writer of the reign of king James the first. ‘"When as by reason of unseasonable weather, he could neither hawke nor hunt, and was now tired with ca [...]ds and dice, and such other domesticall sports, or to see ladies dance with some of his courtiers, he would in the evening walke disguised all about the towne. It so fortuned, as he was walking late one night, he found a country fellow dead drunke, snorting on a bulke: hee caused his followers to bring him to his palace, and then stripping him of his old clothes, and attyring him in the court-fashion, when he wakened, he and they were all ready to attend upon his Excellency [Page 296] and persuaded him he was some great Duke. The poore fellow admiring how he came there, was served in state all day long: after supper he saw them dance, heard musicke, and all the rest of those court-like pleasures. But late at night, when he was well tipled, and againe faste asleepe, they put on his old robes, and so conveyed him to the place where they first found him. Now the fellowe had not made there so good sport the day before, as he did now when he returned to himselfe; all the jest was, to see how he looked upon it. In conclusion, after some little admiration, the poore man told his friends he had seene a vision, constantly believed it, would not otherwise be persuaded, and so the joke ended h."’ If this is a true story, it is a curious specimen of the winter-diversions of a very polite court of France in the middle of the fifteenth century. The merit of the contrivance, however, and comic effect of this practical joke, will atone in some measure for many indelicate circumstances with which it must have ne­cessarily been attended. I presume it first appeared in Vives's Epistle. I have seen the story of a tinker disguised like a lord in recent collections of humorous tales, probably transmitted from Edwards's story-book, which I wish I had examined more carefully.

I have assigned Edwards to queen Mary's reign, as his re­putation in the character of general poetry seems to have been then at its height. I have mentioned his sonnets addressed to the court-beauties of that reign, and of the beginning of the reign of queen Elisabeth i.

[Page 297] If I should be thought to have been disproportionately prolix in speaking of Edwards, I would be understood to have partly intended a tribute of respect to the memory of a poet, who is one of the earliest of our dramatic writers after the refor­mation of the British stage.

SECT. XXXV.

ABOUT the same time flourished Thomas Tusser, one of our earliest didactic poets, in a science of the highest uti­lity, and which produced one of the most beautiful poems of antiquity. The vicissitudes of this man's life have uncommon variety and novelty for the life of an author, and his history conveys some curious traces of the times as well as of himself. He seems to have been alike the sport of fortune, and a dupe to his own discontented disposition and his perpetual propensity to change of situation.

He was born of an antient family, about the year 1523, at Rivenhall in Essex; and was placed as a chorister, or singing­boy, in the collegiate chapel of the castle of Wallingford in Berkshire a. Having a fine voice, he was impressed from Wal­lingford college into the king's chapel. Soon afterwards he was admitted into the choir of saint Paul's cathedral in London; where he made great improvements under the instruction of John Redford the organist, a famous musician. He was next sent to Eton-school, where, at one chastisement, he received fifty-three stripes of the rod, from the severe but celebrated master Nicholas Udall b. His academical education was at Tri­nity-hall in Cambridge: but Hatcher affirms, that he was from Eton admitted a scholar of King's college in that university, [Page 299] under the year 1543 c. From the university he was called up to court by his singular and generous patron William lord Paget, in whose family he appears to have been a retainer d. In this de­partment he lived ten years: but being disgusted with the vices, and wearied with the quarrels of the courtiers, he retired into the country, and embraced the profession of a farmer, which he successively practised at Ratwood in Sussex, Ipswich in Suffolk, Fairstead in Essex, Norwich, and other places e. Here his patrons were sir Richard Southwell f, and Salisbury dean of Norwich. Under the latter he procured the place of a singing-man in Norwich cathedral. At length, having perhaps too much philo­sophy and too little experience to succeed in the business of agri­culture, he returned to London: but the plague drove him away from town, and he took shelter at Trinity college in Cambridge. Without a tincture of careless imprudence, or vicious extragance, this desultory character seems to have thrived in no vocation. Fuller says, that his stone, which gathered no moss, was the stone of Sisyphus. His plough and his poetry were alike unprofitable. He was by turns a fiddler and a farmer, a grasier and a poet with equal success. He died very aged at London in 1580, and was buried in saint Mildred's church in the Poultry g.

Some of these circumstances, with many others of less con­sequence, are related by himself in one of his pieces, entitled the AUTHOR'S LIFE, as follows.

What robesh how bare, what colledge fare!
What bread how stale, what pennie ale!
Then WALLINGFORD, how wert thou abhord
Of sillie boies!
Thence for my voice, I must, no choice,
Away of forse, like posting horse;
For sundrie men had placardes then
Such child to take.
The better brest i, the lesser rest,
To serue the queer, now there now heer:
For time so spent, I may repent,
And sorowe make.
But marke the chance, myself to vance,
By friendships lot, to PAULES I got;
So found I grace a certaine space,
Still to remaine.
With REDFORD there, the like no where,
For cunning such, and vertue much,
By whom some part of musicke art,
So did I gaine.
From PAULES I went, to EATON sent,
To learne straighte waies the Latin phraies,
Where fiftie three stripes giuen to me
At once I had:
The fault but small, or none at all,
[Page 301] It came to pas, thus beat I was:
See, Udall, see, the mercie of thee
To me, poore lad!
To LONDON hence, to CAMBRIDGE thence,
With thankes to thee, O TRINITE,
That to thy HALL, so passinge all,
I got at last.
There ioy I felt, there trim I dwelt, &c.

At length he married a wife by the name of Moone, from whom, for an obvious reason, he expected great inconstancy, but was happily disappointed.

Through Uenus' toies, in hope of ioies,
I chanced soone to finde a Moone,
Of cheerfull hew:
Which well and fine, methought, did shine,
And neuer change, a thing most strange,
Yet kept in sight, her course aright,
And compas trew, &c k.

Before I proceed, I must say a few words concerning the very remarkable practice implied in these stanzas, of seizing boys by a warrant for the service of the king's chapel. Strype has printed an abstract of an instrument, by which it appears, that emissaries were dispatched into various parts of England with full powers to take boys from any choir for the use of the chapel of king Edward the sixth. Under the year 1550, says Strype, there was a grant of a commission ‘"to Philip Van Wilder gen­tleman of the Privy Chamber, in anie churches or chappells within England to take to the king's use, such and as many [Page 302] singing children and choristers, as he or his deputy shall think good l."’ And again, in the following year, the master of the king's chapel, that is, the master of the king's singing-boys, has licence ‘"to take up from time to time as many children [boys] to serve in the king's chapel as he shall think fit m."’ Under the year 1454, there is a commission of the same sort from king Henry the sixth, De ministrallis propter solatium regis providendis, for procuring minstrels, even by force, for the solace or enter­tainment of the king: and it is required, that the minstrels so procured, should be not only skilled in arte minstrallatus, in the art of minstrelsy, but membris naturalibus elegantes, handsome and elegantly shaped n. As the word Minstrel is of an extensive signification, and is applied as a general term to every character of that species of men whose business it was to entertain, either with oral recitation, music, gesticulation, and singing, or with a mixture of all these arts united, it is certainly difficult to de­termine, whether singers only, more particularly singers for the royal chapel, were here intended. The last clause may perhaps more immediately seem to point out tumblers or posture-masters o. But in the register of the capitulary acts of York cathedral, it is ordered as an indispensable qualification, that the chorister who is annually to be elected the boy-bishop, should be competenter corpore formosus. I will transcribe an article of the register, re­lating to that ridiculous ceremony. ‘"Dec. 2. 1367. Joannes [Page 303] de Quixly confirmatur Episcopus Puerorum, et Capitulum ordinavit, quod electio episcopi Puerorum in ecclesia Ebora­censi de cetero fieret de Eo, qui diutius et magis in dicta ecclesia laboraverit, et magis idoneus repertus fuerit, dum tamen competenter sit corpore formosus, et quod aliter facta electio non valebit p."’ It is certainly a matter of no conse­quence, whether we understand these Minstrels of Henry the sixth to have been singers, pipers, players, or posture-masters. From the known character of that king, I should rather suppose them performers for his chapel. In any sense, this is an instance of the same oppressive and arbitrary privilege that was practised on our poet.

Our author Tusser wrote, during his residence at Ratwood in Sussex, a work in rhym [...] entitled FIVE HUNDRED POINTES OF GOOD HU [...]BANDRIE, which was printed at London in 1557 q. But it was soon afterwards reprinted, with additions and improve­ments, under the following title, ‘"Five hundreth pointes of good Husbandrie as well for the Champion or open countrie, as also for the Woodland or Severall, mixed in euerie moneth with Huswiferie, ouer and besides the booke of HUS­WIF [...]RIE. Corrected, better ordered, and newlie augmented a fourth part more, with diuers other lessons, as a diet for the farmer, of the properties of windes, planets, hops, herbs, bees, and approved remedies for the sheepe and cattell, with [Page 304] manie other matters both profitabell and not vnpleasant for the Reader. Also a table of HUSBANDRIE at the beginning of this booke, and another of HUSWIFERIE at the end, &c. Newlie set foor [...]h by THOMAS TUSSER gentleman r."’

It must be acknowledged, that this old English georgic has much more of the simplicity of Hesiod, than of the elegance of Virgil: and a modern reader would suspect, that many of its salutary maxims originally decorated the margins, and illus­trated the calendars, of an antient almanac. It is without in­vocations, digressions, and descriptions: no pleasing pictures of rural imagery are drawn from meadows covered with flocks and fields waving with corn, nor are Pan and Ceres once named. Yet it is valuable, as a genuine picture of the agriculture, the rural arts, and the domestic economy and customs, of our industrious ancestors.

I must begin my examination of this work with the apology of Virgil on a similar subject,

Possum multa tibi veterum praecepta referre,
Ni refugis, tenuesque piget cognoscere curas s.

I first produce a specimen of his directions for cultivating a hop-garden, which may, perhaps not unprofitably, be compared with the modern practice.

Whom fansie perswadeth, among other crops,
To haue for his spending, sufficient of hops,
[Page 305] Must willingly follow, of choises to choose,
Such lessons approued, as skilful do vse.
Ground grauellie, sandie, and mixed with claie,
Is naughtie for hops, anie maner of waie;
Or if it be mingled with rubbish and stone,
For drinesse and barrennesse let it alone.
Choose soile for the hop of the rottenest mould,
Well doonged and wrought, as a garden-plot should;
Not far from the water, but not ouerflowne,
This lesson well noted is meete to be knowne.
The sun in the southe, or else southlie and west,
Is ioie to the hop, as a welcomed guest;
But wind in the north, or else northerlie east,
To the hop, is as ill as a fraie in a feast.
Meet plot for a hop-yard, once found as is told,
Make thereof account, as of iewell of gold:
Now dig it and leaue it, the sunne for to burne,
And afterward fence it, to serue for that turne.
The hop for his profit I thus doo exalt:
It strengtheneth drinke, and it fauoreth malt;
And being well brewed, long kept it will last,
And drawing abide—if ye drawe not too fast t.

[Page 306] To this work belongs the well known old song, which begins,

The Ape, the Lion, the Fox, and the Asse,
Thus sett [...] foorth man in a glasse, &c u.

For the farmer's general diet he assigns, in Lent, red her­rings, and salt fish, which may remain in store when Lent is past: at Easter, veal and bacon: at Martinmas, salted beef, when dainties are not to be had in the country: at Midsum­mer, when mackrel are no longer in season, grasse, or sallads [...] fresh beef, and pease: at Michaelmas, fresh herrings, with fat­ted crones, or sheep: at All Saints, pork and pease, sprats and spurlings: at Christmas, good cheere and plaie. The farmer's weekly fish-days, are Wednesday, Friday, and Saturday; and he is charged to be careful in keeping embrings and fast-days w.

Among the Husbandlie Furniture are recited most of the in­struments now in use, yet with several obsolete and unintelli­gible names of farming utensils x. Horses, I know not from what superstition, are to be annually blooded on saint Stephen's day y. Among the Christmas husbandlie fare, our author re­commends good drinke, a good fire in the Hall, brawne, pud­ding and souse, and mustard withall, beef, mutton, and pork, shred, or minced, pies of the best, pig, veal, goose, capon, and turkey, cheese, apples, and nuts, with jolie carols. A Christmas carol is then introduced to the tune of King Salomon z.

[Page 307] In a comparison between Champion and Severall, that is, open and inclosed land, the disputes about inclosures appear to have been as violent as at present a. Among his Huswifelie Admoni­tions, which are not particularly addressed to the farmer, he advises three dishes at dinner, which being well dressed, will be sufficient to please your friend, and will become your Hall b. The prudent houfewife is directed to make her own tallow­candles c. Servants of both sexes are ordered to go to bed at ten in the summer, and nine in the winter: to rise at five in the winter, and four in the summer d. The ploughman's feasting days, or holidays, are PLOUGH-MONDAY, or the first Monday after Twelfth-day, when ploughing begins, in Lei­cestershire. SHROF-TIDE, or SHROVE-TUESDAY, in Essex and Suffolk, when after shroving, or confession, he is permitted to go thresh the fat hen, and ‘"if blindfold [you] can kill her then giue it thy men,"’ and to dine on fritters and pancakes e. SHEEP-SHEARING, which is celebrated in Northamptonshire with wafers and cakes. The WAKE-DAY, or the vigil of the church saint, when everie wanton maie danse at her will, as in Leicestershire, and the oven is to be filled with flawnes. HARVEST-HOME, [Page 308] when the harvest-home goose is to be killed. SEED-CAKE, a festival so called at the end of wheat-sowing in Essex and Suffolk, when the village is to be treated with seed­cakes, pasties, and the frumentie-pot. But twice a week, accord­ing to antient right and custom, the farmer is to give roast­meat, that is, on Sundays and on Thursday-nights f. We have then a set of posies or proverbial rhymes, to be written in various rooms of the house, such as ‘"Husbandlie posies for the Hall, Posies for the Parlour, Posies for the Ghests chamber, and Posies for thine own bedchamber g."’ Botany appears to have been eminently cultivated, and illustrated with numerous trea­tises in English [...] throughout the latter part of the sixteenth century h. In this work are large enumerations of plants, as well for the medical as the culinary garden.

Our author's general precepts have often an expressive brevity, and are sometimes pointed with an epigrammatic turn and a smartness of allusion. As thus,

Saue wing for a thresher, when gander doth die;
Saue fethers of all things, the softer to lie:
Much spice is a theefe, so is candle and fire;
Sweet sause is as craftie as euer was frier i.

Again, under the lessons of the housewife.

Though cat, a good mouser, doth dwell in a house,
Yet euer in dairie haue trap for a mouse:
[Page 309] Take heed how thou laiest the banek for the rats,
For poisoning thy servant, thyself, and thy brats l.

And in the following rule of the smaller economics.

Saue droppings and skimmings, however ye doo,
For medcine, for cattell, for cart, and for shoo m.

In these stanzas on haymaking, he rises above his common manner.

Go muster thy seruants, be captain thyselfe,
Prouiding them weapons, and other like pelfe:
Get bottells and wallets, keepe fielde in the heat,
The feare is as much, as the danger is great.
With tossing, and raking, and setting on cox,
Grasse latelie in swathes, is haie for an oxe.
That done, go to cart it, and haue it awaie:
The battell is fought, ye haue gotten the daie n.

A great variety of verse is used in this poem, which is thrown into numerous detached chapters o. The HUSBANDRIE is divided into the several months. Tusser, in respect of his an­tiquated diction, and his argument, may not improperly be styled the English Varro.

[Page 310] Such were the rude beginnings in the English language of didactic poetry, which, on a kindred subject, the present age has seen brought to perfection, by the happy combination of judicious precepts with the most elegant ornaments of language and imagery, in Mr. Mason's ENGLISH GARDEN.

SECT. XXXVI.

AMONG Antony Wood's manuscripts in the Bodleian library at Oxford, I find a poem of considerable length written by William Forrest, chaplain to queen Mary a. It is entitled, ‘"A true and most notable History of a right noble and famous Lady produced in Spayne entitled the second GRESIELD, practised not long out of this time in much part tragedous as delectable both to hearers and readers."’ This is a panegyrical history in octave rhyme, of the life of queen Catharine, the first queen of king Henry the eighth. The poet compares Catharine to patient Grisild, celebrated by Petrarch and Chaucer, and Henry to earl Walter her husband b. Catha­rine had certainly the patience and conjugal compliance of Gri­sild: but Henry's cruelty was not, like Walter's, only artificial and assumed. It is dedicated to queen Mary: and Wood's ma­nuscript, which was once very superbly bound and embossed, and is elegantly written on vellum, evidently appears to have been the book presented by the author to her majesty. Much of its antient finery is tarnished: but on the brass bosses at each corner is still discernible AVE, MARIA GRATIA PLENA. At the end [Page 312] is this colophon. ‘"Here endeth the Historye of Grysilde the second, dulie meanyng Queene Catharine mother to our most dread soveraigne Lady queene Mary, fynysched the xxv day of June, the yeare of owre Lorde 1558. By the symple and unlearned Syr Wylliam Forrest preeiste, propria manu."’ The poem, which consists of twenty chapters, contains a zealous condemnation of Henry's divorce: and, I believe, preserves some anecdotes, yet apparently misrepresented by the writer's religious and political bigotry, not extant in any of our printed histories. Forrest was a student at Oxford, at the time when this notable and knotty point of casuistry prostituted the learning of all the universities of Europe, to the gratification of the capricious amours of a libidinous and implacable tyrant. He has recorded many particulars and local incidents of what passed in Oxford during that transaction c. At the end of the poem is a metrical ORA­TION CONSOLATORY, in six leaves, to queen Mary.

In the British Museum is another of Forrest's poems, written in two splendid folio volumes on vellum, called ‘"The tragedious troubles of the most chast and innocent Joseph, son to the holy patriarch Jacob,"’ and dedicated to Thomas Howard duke of Norfolk d. In the same repository is another of his pieces, never printed, dedicated to king Edward the sixth, ‘"A notable warke called The PLEASANT POESIE OF PRINCELIE PRACTISE, composed of late by the simple and unlearned sir William Forrest priest, much part collected out of a booke entitled the GOVERNANCE OF NOBLEMEN, which booke the wyse philosopher Aristotle wrote to his disciple Alexander [Page 313] the Great e."’ The book here mentioned is Aegidius Romanus de REGIMINE PRINCIPIUM, which yet retained its reputation and popularity from the middle age f. I ought to have observed before, that Forrest translated into English metre fifty of David's Psalms, in 1551, which are dedicated to the duke of Somerset, the Protector g. Hence we are led to suspect, that our author could accommodate his faith to the reigning powers. Many more of his manuscript pieces both in prose and verse, all pro­fessional and of the religious kind, were in the hands of Robert earl of Ailesbury h. Forrest, who must have been living at Ox­ford, as appears from his poem on queen Catharine, so early as the year 1530, was in reception of an annual pension of six pounds from Christ-church in that university, in the year 1555 i. He was eminently skilled in music: and with much diligence and expence, he collected the works of the most excellent Eng­lish composers, that were his cotemporaries. These, being the choicest compositions, of John Taverner of Boston, organist of Cardinal-college now Christ-church at Oxford, John Merbeck who first digested our present church-service from the notes of the Roman missal, Fairfax, Tye, Sheppard, Norman, and others, falling after Forrest's death into the possession of doctor Wil­liam Hether, founder of the musical praxis and professorship at [Page 314] at Oxford in 1623, are now fortunately preserved at Oxford, in the archives of the music-school assigned to that institution.

In the year 1554, a poem of two sheets, in the spirit and stanza of Sternhold, was printed under the title, ‘"The VN­GODLINESSE OF THE HETHNICKE GODDES, or The Down­fall of Diana of the Ephe [...]ians, by J. D. an exile for the word, late a minister in London, MDLIV k."’ I presume it was printed at Geneva, and imported into England with other books of the same tendency, and which were afterwards sup­pressed by a proclamation. The writer, whose arguments are as weak as his poetry, attempts to prove, that the customary mode of training youths in the Roman poets encouraged idolatry and pagan superstition. This was a topic much laboured by the puritans. Prynne, in that chapter of his HISTRIOMASTIX, where he exposes ‘"the obscenity, ribaldry, amorousnesse, HEA­THENISHNESSE, and prophanesse, of most play-bookes, Ar­cadias, and fained histories that are now so much in admira­tion,"’ acquaints us, that the infallible leaders of the puritan persuasion in the reign of queen Elisabeth, among which are two bishops, h [...]ve solemnly prohibited all christians, ‘"to pen, to print, to sell, to read, or school-masters and others to teach, any amorous wanton Play-bookes, Histories, or Heathen authors, especially Ovid's wanton Epistles and Bookes of love, Catullus, Tibullus, Propertius, Martiall, the Comedies of Plautus, Terence, and other such amorous bookes, savoring either of Pagan Gods, of Ethnicke rites and ceremonies, of scurrility, amorousnesse, and prophanesse l."’ But the classics were at length condemned by a much higher authority. In the year 1582, one Christopher Ocland, a schoolmaster of Chelten­ham, published two poems in Latin hexameters, one entitled ANGLORUM PRAELIA, the other ELIZABETHA m. To these [Page 315] poems, which are written in a low style of Latin versification, is prefixed an edict from the lords of privy council, signed, among others, by Cowper bishop of Lincoln, Lord Warwick, Lord Leicester, sir Francis Knollys, sir Christopher Hatton, and sir Francis Walsingham, and directed to the queen's eccle­siastical commissioners, containing the following passage. ‘"For­asmuche as the subject or matter of this booke is such, as is worthie to be read of all men, and especially in common schooles, where diuers HEATHEN POETS are ordinarily read and taught, from which the youth of the realme doth rather receiue infection in manners, than aduancement in uertue: in place of some of which poets, we thinke this Booke fit to read and taught in the grammar schooles: we haue therefore thought, as wel for the encouraging the said Ocklande and others that are learned, to bestowe their trauell and stu­dies to so good purposes, as also for the benefit of the youth and the removing of such lasciuious poets as are com­monly read and taught in the saide grammar-schooles (the matter of this booke being heroicall and of good instruction) to praye and require you vpon the sight hereof, as by our special order, to write your letters vnto al the Bishops through­out this realme, requiring them to giue commaundement, that in al the gramer and free schooles within their seuerall diocesses, the said Booke de ANGLORUM PRAELIIS, and [Page 316] peaceable Gouernment of hir majestie, [the ELIZABETHA,] may be in place of some of the heathen poets receyued, and publiquely read and taught by the scholemasters n."’ With such abundant circumspection and solemnity, did these profound and pious politicians, not suspecting that they were acting in op­position to their own principles and intentions, exert their en­deavours to bring back barbarism, and to obstruct the progress of truth and good sense o.

Hollingshead mentions Lucas Shepherd of Colchester, as an eminent poet of queen Mary's reign p. I do not pretend to any great talents for decyphering; but I presume, that this is the same person who is called by Bale, from a most injudicious affec­tation of Latinity, Lucas OPILIO. Bale affirms, that his co­temporary, Opilio, was a very facetious poet: and means to pay him a still higher compliment in pronouncing him not inferior even to Skelton for his rhimes q. It is unlucky, that Bale, by disguising his name, should have contributed to conceal this writer so long from the notice of posterity, and even to coun­teract his own partiality. Lucas Shepherd, however, appears to have been nothing more than a petty pamphleteer in the cause of Calvinism, and to have acquired the character of a poet from a metrical translation of some of David's Psalms about the year 1554. Bale's narrow prejudices are well known. The puritans never suspected that they were greater bigots than the papists. I believe one or two of Shepherd's pieces in prose are among bishop Tanner's books at Oxford.

Bale also mentions metrical English versions of ECCLE­SIASTES, of the histories of ESTHER, SUSANNAH, JUDITH, and of the TESTAMENT OF THE TWELVE PATRIARCHS, printed and written about this period, by John Pullaine, one of the original students of Christ-church at Oxford, and at length archdeacon of Colchester. He was chaplain to the duchess of [Page 317] Suffolk; and, either by choice or compulsion, imbibed ideas of reformation at Geneva q. I have seen the name of John Pullayne, affixed in manuscript to a copy of an anonymous version of Solomon's Song, or ‘"Salomon's balads in metre,"’ abovemen­tioned r, in which is this stanza.

She is so young in Christes truth,
That yet she hath no teates;
She wanteth brestes, to feed her youth
With sound and perfect meates s.

There were numerous versions of Solomon's SONG before the year 1600: and perhaps no portion of scripture was selected with more propriety to be cloathed in verse. Beside those I have mentioned, there is, ‘"The SONG OF SONGS, that is the most excellent Song which was Solomon's, translated out of the Hebrue into Englishe meater with as little libertie in depart­ing from the wordes as anie plaine translation in prose can vse, and interpreted by a short commentarie."’ For Richard Schil­ders, printer to the states of Zealand, I suppose at Middle­burgh, 1587, in duodecimo. Nor have I yet mentioned Solo­mon's Song, translated from English prose into English verse by Robert Fletcher, a native of Warwickshire, and a member of Merton college, printed at London, with notes, in 1586 t. The CANTICLES in English verse are among the lost poems of Spenser u. Bishop Hall, in his nervous and elegant satires [Page 318] printed in 1597, meaning to ridicule and expose the spiritual poetry with which his age was overwhelmed, has an allusion to a metrical English version of Solomon's Song w. Having men­tioned SAINT PETER'S COMPLAINT, written by Robert Southwell, and printed in 1595, with some other religious effusions of that author, he adds,

Yea, and the prophet of the heavenly lyre,
Great Solomon, singes in the English quire;
And is become a new-found Sonnetist,
Singing his love, the holie spouse of Christ,
Like as she were some light-skirts of the rest x,
In mightiest inkhornismes he can thither wrest.
Ye Sion Muses shall by my dear will,
For this your zeal and far-admired skill,
Be straight transported from Jerusalem,
Unto the holy house of Bethlehem.

It is not to any of the versions of the CANTICLES which I have hitherto mentioned, that Hall here alludes. His censure is levelled at ‘"The Poem of Poems, or SION'S MUSE. Con­taynyng the diuine Song of King Salomon deuided into eight [Page 319] Eclogues. Bramo assai, poco spero, nulla chieggio. At London, printed by James Roberts for Mathew Lownes, and are to be solde at his shop in saint Dunstones church-yarde, 1596 y."’ The author signs his dedication, which is addressed to the sacred virgin, diuine mistress Elizabeth Sydney, sole daughter of the euer admired sir Philip Sydney, with the initials J. M. These initials, which are subscribed to many pieces in ENGLAND'S HELICON, signify Jarvis, or Iarvis, Markham z.

Although the translation of the scriptures into English rhyme was for the most part an exercise of the enlightened puritans, the recent publication of Sternhold's psalms taught that mode of writing to many of the papists, after the sudden revival of the mass under queen Mary. One Richard Beearde, parson of saint Mary-hill in London, celebrated the accession of that queen in a godly psalm printed in 1553 a. Much about the same time, George Marshall wrote A compendious treatise in metre, declaring the first original of sacrifice and of building churches and aultars, and of the first receiving the cristen faith here in England, dedicated to George Wharton esquire, and printed at London in 1554 b.

In 1556, Miles Hoggard, a famous butt of the protestants, published ‘"a shorte treatise in meter vpon the CXXIX psalme of David called De profundis. Compiled and set forth by Miles Huggard [...] servante to the quenes maiestie c."’ Of the opposite or heretical persuasion was Peter Moone, who wrote a metrical tract on the abuses of the mass, printed by John Oswen at [Page 320] Ipswich, about the first year of queen Mary d. Nearly the same period, a translation of ECCLESIATES into rhyme by Oliver Starkey occurs in bishop Tanner's library, if I recollect right, together with his Translation of Sallust's two histories. By the way, there was another vernacular versification of ECCLESIASTES by Henry Lok, or Lock, of whom more will be said hereafter, printed in 1597. This book was also translated into Latin hexameters by Drant, who will occur again in 1572. The ECCLESIASTES was versified in English by Spenser.

I have before mentioned the SCHOOL-HOUSE OF WOMEN, a satire against the fair sex e. This was answered by Edward More of Hambledon in Buckinghamshire, about the year 1557, before he was twenty years of age. It required no very powerful abi­lities either of genius or judgment to confute such a groundless and malignant invective. More's book is entitled, The DEFENCE OF WOMEN, especially English women, against a book intituled the SCHOOL-HOUSE OF WOMEN. It it dedicated to Master William Page, secretary to his neighbour and patron sir Edward Hoby of Bisham-abbey, and was printed at London in 1560 f.

[Page 321] With the catholic liturgy, all the pageantries of popery were restored to their antient splendour by queen Mary. Among others, the procession of the boy-bishop was too popular a mum­mery to b [...] forgotten. In the preceding reign of king Edward the sixth, Hugh Rhodes, a gentleman or musician of the royal chapel, published an English poem with the title, THE BOKE OF NURTUR for men seruants and children, or of the gouernaunc [...] of youth, with STANS PUER AD MENSAM g. In the following reign of Mary, the same poet printed a poem consisting of thirty-six octave stanzas, entitled, ‘"The SONG of the CHYLD­BYSSHOP, as it was songeh before the queenes maiestie in her priuie chamber at her manour of saynt James in the ffeeldes on saynt Nicholas day and Innocents day this yeare nowe pre­sent, by the chylde bysshope of Poules churchei with his company. LONDINI, in aedibus Johannis Cawood typographi reginae, 1555. Cum privilegio, &c k."’ By admitting this spectacle into her presence, it appears that her majesty's bigotry condescended to give countenance to the most ridiculous and unmeaning ceremony of the Roman ritual. As to the song it­self, it is a fulsome panegyric on the queen's devotion: in which she is compared to Judith, Esther, the queen of Sheba, and the [Page 322] virgin Mary l. This show of the boy-bishop, not so much for its superstition as its levity and absurdity, had been formally abrogated by king Henry the eighth, fourteen years before, in the year 1542, as appears by a ‘"Proclamation devised by the Kings Majesty by the advys of his Highness Counsel the xxii day of Julie, 33 Hen. viij, commanding the ffeasts of saint Luke, saint Mark, saint Marie Magdalene, Inuention of the Crosse, and saint Laurence, which had been abrogated, should be nowe againe celebrated and kept holie days,"’ of which the following is the concluding clause. ‘"And where as here­tofore dyuers and many superstitious and chyldysh obseruances have be vsed, and yet to this day are obserued and kept, in many and sundry partes of this realm, as vpon saint Nicholas m, [Page 323] saint Catharine n, saint Clement o, the holie Innocents, and and such like p, Children [boys] be strangelie decked and ap­parayled, to counterfeit Priestes, Bisshopes, and Women, and so be ledde with Songes and Dances from house to house, blessing the people, and gathering of money; and Boyes do singe masse, and preache in the pulpitt, with such other vnfit­tinge and inconuenient vsages, rather to the derysyon than anie true glorie of God, or honor of his sayntes: The Kynges maiestie therefore, myndinge nothinge so moche as to aduance the true glory of God without vain superstition, wylleth and commandeth, that from henceforth all svch svperstitious ob­seruations be left and clerely extinguished throwout all this his realme and dominions, for-as moche as the same doth re­semble rather the vnlawfull superstition of gentilitie, than the pvre and sincere religion of Christe."’ With respect to the disguisings of these young fraternities, and their processions from house to house with singing and dancing, specified in this edict, [Page 324] in a very mutilated fragment of a COMPUTUS, or annual Ac­compt-roll, of saint Swithin's cathedral Priory at Winchester, under the year 1441, a disbursement is made to the singing-boys of the monastery, who, together with the choristers of saint Elisabeth's collegiate chapel near that city, were dressed up like girls, and exhibited their sports before the abbess and nuns of saint Mary's abbey at Winchester, in the public refectory of that convent, on Innocent's day q. ‘"Pro Pueris Eleemosynariae una cum Pueris Capellae sanctae Elizabethae, ornatis more puella­rum, et saltantibus, cantantibus, et ludentibus, coram domina Abbatissa et monialibus Abbathiae beatae Mariae virginis, in aula ibidem in die sanctorum Innocentium r."’ And again, in a fragment of an Accompt of the Celerar of Hyde Abbey at Winchester, under the year 1490. ‘"In larvis et aliis indu­mentis Puerorum visentium Dominum apud Wulsey, et Con­stabularium Castri Winton, in apparatu suo, necnon subin­trantium omnia monasteria civitatis Winton, in ffesto sancti Nicholai s."’ That is, ‘"In furnishing masks and dresses for the boys of the convent, when they visited the bishop at [Page 325] Wulvesey-palace, the constable of Winchester-castle, and all the monasteries of the city of Winchester, on the festival of saint Nicholas."’ As to the divine service being performed by children on these feasts, it was not only celebrated by boys, but there is an injunction given to the Benedictine nunnery of Godstowe in Oxfordshire, by archbishop Peckham, in the year 1278, that on Innocent's day, the public prayers should not any more be said in the church of that monastery PER PARVULAS, that is, by little girls t.

The ground-work of this religious mockery of the boy-bishop, which is evidently founded on modes of barbarous life, ma [...] perhaps be traced backward at least as far as the year 867 u. At the Constantinopolitan synod under that year, at which were present three hundred and seventy-three bishops, it was found to be a solemn custom in the courts of princes, on certain stated days, to dress some layman in the episcopal apparel, who should exactly personate a bishop both in his tonsure and ornaments: as also to create a burlesque patriarch, who might make sport for the company w. This scandal to the clergy was anathematised. But ecclesiastical synods and censures have often proved too weak to suppress popular spectacles, which take deep root in the public manners, and are only concealed for a while, to spring up afresh with new vigour.

After the form of a legitimate stage had appeared in England, MYSTERIES and MIRACLES were also revived by queen Mary, as an appendage of the papistic worship.

—En, iterum crudelia retro
Fata vocant x!—

[Page 326] In the year 1556, a goodly stage-play of the PASSION OF CHRIST was presented at the Grey friers in London, on Corpus­Chri [...]ti day, before the lord mayor, the privy-council, and many great estates of the realm y. Strype also mentions, under the year 1557, a stage-play at the Grey-friers, of the Passion of Christ, on the day that war was proclaimed in London against France, and in honour of that occasion z. On saint Olave's day in the same year, the holiday of the church in Silver-street which is dedicated to that saint, was kept with much solemnity. At eight of the clock at night, began a stage-play of goodly matter, being the miraculous history of the life of that saint a, which continued four hours, and was concluded with many re­ [...]gious songs b.

Many curious circumstances of the nature of these miracle­plays, appear in a roll of the church-wardens of Bassingborne in Cambridgeshire, which is an accompt of the expences and receptions for acting the play of SAINT GEORGE at Bassing­borne, on the feast of saint Margaret in the year 1511. They collected upwards of four pounds in twenty-seven neighbouring parishes for furnishing the play. They disbursed about two pounds in the representation. These disbursements are to four minstrels, or waits, of Cambridge for three days, v, s. vj, d. To the players, in bread and ale, iij, s. ij, d. To the garnement­man for garnements, and propyrts c, that is, for dresses, decorations, [Page 327] and implements, and for play-books, xx, s. To John Hobard brotherhoode preeste, that is, a priest of the guild in the church, for the play-book, ij, s. viij d. For the crofte, or field in which the play was exhibited, j, s. For propyrte-making, or furniture, j, s. iv, d. ‘"For fish and bread, and to setting up the stages, iv, d."’ For painting three fanchoms and four tormentors, words which I do not understand, but perhaps phantoms and devils ... The rest was expended for a feast on the occasion, in which are recited, ‘"Four chicken for the gentilmen, iv, d."’ It appears from the manuscript of the Coventry plays, that a tem­porary scaffold only, was erected for these performances. And Chaucer says, of Absolon a parish-clerk, and an actor of king Herod's character in these dramas, in the MILLER'S TALE,

And for to shew his lightnesse and maistry
He playith Herawdes on a SCAFFALD HIE d.

Scenical decorations and machinery which employed the genius and invention of Inigo Jones, in the reigns of the first James and Charles, seem to have migrated from the ma [...]ques at court to the public theatre. In the instrument here cited, the priest who wrote the play, and received only two shillings and eight pence for his labour, seems to have been worse paid in proportion than any of the other persons concerned. The learned Oporinus [...] [Page 328] in 1547, published in two volumes a collection of religious in­terludes, which abounded in Germany. They are in Latin, and not taken from legends but the Bible.

The puritans were highly offended at these religious plays now revived e. But they were hardly less averse to the theatrical representation of the christian than of the gentile story. Yet for different reasons. To hate a theatre was a part of their creed, and therefore plays were an improper vehicle of religion. The heathen fables they judged to be dangerous, as too nearly re­sembling the superstitions of popery.

SECT. XXXVII.

IT appears, however, that the cultivation of an English style began to be now regarded. At the general restoration of knowledge and taste, it was a great impediment to the progress of our language, that all the learned and ingenious, aiming at the character of erudition, wrote in Latin. English books were written only by the superficial and illiterate, at a time when judgment and genius should have been exerted in the nice and critical task of polishing a rude speech. Long after the inven­tion of typography, our vernacular style, instead of being strengthened and refined by numerous compositions, was only corrupted with new barbarisms and affectations, for want of able and judicious writers in English. Unless we except sir Thomas More, whose DIALOGUE ON TRIBULATION, and HISTORY OF RICHARD THE THIRD, were esteemed standards of style so low as the reign of James the first, Roger Ascham was perhaps the first of our scholars who ventured to break the shackles of Latinity, by publishing his TOXOPHILUS in English; chiefly with a view of giving a pure and correct model of English composition, or rather of shewing how a subject might be treated with grace and propriety in En [...]lish as well as in Latin. His own vindication of his conduct in attempting this great innova­tion is too sensible to be omitted, and reflects light on the revo­lutions of our poetry. ‘"As for the Lattine or Greeke tongue, euerye thinge is so excellentlye done in Them, that none can do better. In the Englishe tongue contrary, euery thing in a maner so meanlye, both for the matter and handelinge, tha [...] no man can do worse. For therein the learned for the most [Page 330] part haue bene alwayes most redye to write. And they which had least hope in Lattine haue bene most bould in Englishe: when surelye euerye man that is most ready to talke, is not most able to write. He that will write well in any tongue, must folow this counsell of Aristotle; to speake as the com­mon people do, to thinke as wise men do. And so shoulde euerye man vnderstand him, and the iudgement of wise men alowe him. Manye Englishe writers haue not done so; but vsinge straunge wordes, as Lattine, French, and Italian, do make all thinges darke and harde. Ones I communed with a man, which reasoned the Englishe tongue to be enriched and encreased thereby, sayinge, Who will no [...] prayse that feast where a man shall drincke at a dinner both wyne, ale, and beere? Truly, quoth I, they be al good, euery one taken by himselfe alone; but if you put Malmesye and sacke, redde wyne and white, ale and beere, and al in one pot, you shall make a drinke neither easye to be knowen, nor yet holsome for the bodye. Cicero in folowing Isocrates, Plato, and De­mosthenes, encreased the Lattine tongue after another sort. This way, because diuers men that write do not know, they can neyther folow it because of their ignoraunce, nor yet will prayse it for uery arrogancy: two faultes seldome the one out of the others companye. Englishe writers by diuersitie of tyme haue taken diuers matters in hand. In our fathers tim [...] nothing was red, but bookes of fayned cheualrie, wherein a man by readinge should be led to none other ende but only to manslaughter and baudrye. If anye man suppose they were good enough to passe the time withall, he is deceiued. For surely vaine wordes do worke no smal thinge in vaine, ignorant, and yong mindes, specially if they be geuen any thing thervnto of their owne nature. These bookes, as I haue heard say, were made the most part in abbayes and mo­nasteries, a very likely and fit fruite of such an ydle and blind [Page 331] kind of liuing a. In our time now, whan euery man is geuen to know much rather than liue wel, very many do write, but after such a fashion as very many do shoote. Some shooters take in hande stronger bowes than they be able to maintaine. This thinge maketh them sometime to ouershoote the marke, sometime to shoote far wyde and perchance hurt some that loke on. Other, that neuer learned to shoote, nor yet know­eth good shaft nor bowe, will be as busie as the best b.’

Ascham's example was followed by other learned men. But the chief was Thomas Wilson, who published a system of LOGIC and RHETORIC both in English. Of his LOGIC I have already spoken. I have at present only to speak of the latter, which is not only written in English, but with a view of giving rules for composing in the English language. It appeared in 1553, the first year of queen Mary, and is entitled, THE ARTE OF RHETORIKE for the vse of all suche as are studious of Eloquence, sette forthe in Englishe by THOMAS WILSON c. Leonarde Cox, a schoolmaster, patronised by Farringdon the last abbot of Reading, had published in 1530, as I have observed, an English tract on rhetoric, which is nothing more than a technical and elementary man [...]al. Wilson's treatise is more liberal, and discursive; illus­trating the arts of eloquence by example, and examining and ascertaining the beauties of composition with the speculative skill and sagacity of a critic. It may therefore be justly considered as the first book or system of criticism in our language. A few extracts [Page 334] from so curious a performance need no apology; which will also serve to throw light on the present period, and indeed on our general subject, by displaying the state of critical knowledge, and the ideas of writing, which now prevailed.

I must premise, that Wilson, one of the most accomplished scholars of his times, was originally a fellow of King's Col­lege d, where he was tutor to the two celebrated youths Henry and Charles Brandon dukes of Suffolk. Being a doctor of laws, he was afterwards one of the ordinary masters of requests, master of saint Katharine's hospital near the Tower, a frequent embas­sador from queen Elisabeth to Mary queen of Scots, and into the Low countries, a secretary of state and a privy counsellor, and at length, in 1579, dean of Durham. He died in 1581. His remarkable diligence and dispatch in negotiation is said to have resulted from an uncommon strength of memory. It is another proof of his attention to the advancement of our English style, that he translated seven orations of Demosthenes, which, in 1570, he dedicated to sir William Cecill e.

Under that chapter of his third book of RHETORIC which treats of the four parts belonging to elocution, Plainnesse, Apt­nesse, Composicio [...], Exornacion, Wilson has these observations on simplicity of style, which are immediately directed to those who write in the English tongue. ‘"Among other lessons this should first be learned, that we neuer affect any straunge ynke­horne termes, but to speake as is commonly receiued: neither seking to be ouer fine, nor yet liuing ouer carelesse, vsing our speache as moste men do, and ordering our wittes as the fewest haue doen. Some seke so farre for outlandishe Englishe, that they forget altogether their mothers language. And I dare [Page 335] sweare this, if some of their mothers were aliue, thei were not able to tel what thei saie: and yet these fine Englishe clerkes wil saie thei speake in their mother tongue, if a man should charge them for counterfeityng the kinges Englishe. Some farre iournied gentlemen at their returne home, like as thei loue to go in forrein apparel, so thei will pouder their talke with ouersea language. He that cometh lately out of Fraunce will talke Frenche Englishe, and neuer blushe at the matter. Another choppes in with Englishe Italianated, and applieth the Italian phraise to our Englishe speakyng: the whiche is, as if an Oration that professeth to vtter his mynde in plaine Latine, would needes speake Poetrie, and farre fetched colours of straunge antiquitie. The lawier will store his stomacke with the prating of pedlers. The auditour, in makyng his accompt and reckenyng, cometh in with sise sould, and cater denere, for vj. s. and iiij. d. The fine courtier will talke nothyng but CHAUCER. The misticall wisemen, and poeticall clerkes, will speake nothyng but quainte prouerbes, and blinde allegories; delightyng muche in their owne dark­nesse, especially when none can tel what thei do saie. The vnlearned or folishe phantasticall, that smelles but of learnyng (svche fellowes as haue seene learned men in their daies) will so Latine their tongues, that the simple cannot but wonder at their talke, and thinke surely thei speake by some reuelacion. I know Them, that thinke RHETORIKE to stande wholie vpon darke wordes; and he that can catche an ynkehorne terme by the taile, hym thei compt to be a fine Englishman and a good rhetorician f. And the rather to set out this folie, [Page 336] I will adde here svche a letter as William Sommerg himself, could not make a better for that purpose,—deuised by a Lincolne [...]hire [Page 337] man for a voide benefice h."’ This point he illus­trates with other familiar and pleasant instances i.

In enforcing the application and explaining the nature of fables, for the purpose of amplification, he gives a general idea of the Iliad and Odyssey. ‘"The saying of poetes, and al their fables, are not to be forgotten. For by them we maie talke at large, and win men by perswasion, if we declare be­fore hand, that these tales wer not fained of suche wisemen without cause, neither yet continued vntill this time, and kept in memorie without good consideracion, and therevpon declare the true meanyng of all svche writynge. For vn­doubtedly, there is no one Tale among all the poetes, but vnder the same is comprehended somethyng that perteyneth either to the amendement of maners, to the knowledge of truthe, to the settyng forth natures worke, or els to the vn­derstanding of some notable thing doen. For what other is the painful trauaile of Vlisses, described so largely by Ho­mere, but a liuely picture of mans miserie in this life? And as Plutarche saith, and likewise Basilius Magnus, in the ILIADES are described strength and valiauntnesse of bodie: in ODISSEA, is set forthe a liuely paterne of the mynde. The Poetes are Wisemen, and wisshed in harte the redresse of thinges, the which when for feare thei durst not openly re­buke, they did in colours paint them out, and tolde men by shadowes what thei shold do in good sothe: or els, because the wicked were vnworthy to heare the trueth, thei spake so [Page 338] that none might vnderstande but those vnto whom thei please to vtter their meanyng, and knewe them to be men of honest conuersacion i."’

Wilson thus recommends the force of circumstantial descrip­tion, or, what he calls, An euident or plaine setting forthe of a thing as though it were presently doen. ‘"An example. If our enemies shal inuade and by treason win the victory, we shal all die euery mothers sonne of vs, and our citee shal be des­troied, sticke and stone: I se our children made slaues, our daughters rauished, our wiues carried away, the father forced to kill his owne sonne, the mother her daughter, the sonne his father, the sucking childe slain in his mothers bosom, one standyng to the knees in anothers blood, churches spoiled, houses plucte down, and al set on fire round about vs, euery one cvrsing the daie of their birth, children criyng, women wailing, &c. Thus, where I might haue said, We shal al be destroied, and say [no] more, I haue by description set the euill forthe at large k."’ It must be owned that this picture of a sacked city is literally translated from Quintilian. But it is a proof, that we were now beginning to make the beauties of the antients our own.

On the necessity of a due preservation of character he has the following precepts, which seem to be directed to the writers of Historical Plays. ‘"In describyng of persons, there ought al­waies a comelinesse to be vsed, so that nothing be spoken which may be thought is not in them. As if one shold de­scribe Henry the sixt, He might call hym jentle, milde of nature, ledde by perswacion, and ready to forgiue, carelesse for wealth, suspecting none, mercifull to al, fearful in aduersitie, and without forecast to espie his misfortvne. Againe, for Richarde the thirde, I might brynge him in cruell of harte, ambicious by nature, enuious of minde, a deepe dissembler, a close man for weightie matters, hardie to reuenge and fearefull [Page 339] to lose hys high estate, trustie to none, liberall for a pur­pose, castyng still the worste, and hoping euer for the best l. By this figurem also, we imagine a talke for some one to speake, and accordyng to his persone we frame the oration. As if one shoulde bryng in noble Henry the eight of famous memory, to enuegh against rebelles, thus he might order his oration. What if Henry the eight were aliue, and sawe suche rebellion in the realme, would he not saie thus and thus? Yea methinkes I heare hym speake euen nowe. And so sette forthe suche wordes as we would haue hym to s [...]y n."’ Shake­speare himself has not delineated the characters of these English monarchs with more truth. And the first writers of the MIR­ROUR OF MAGISTRATES, who imagine a talke for some one to speake, and according to his person frame the oration, appear to have availed themselves of these directions, if not to have catched the notion of their whole plan from this remarkable passage.

He next shews the advantages of personification in enlivening a composition. ‘"Some times it is good to make God, the Countray, or some one Towne, to speake; and looke what we would saie in our owne persone, to frame the whole tale to them. Such varietie doeth much good to auoide tedious­nesse. For he that speaketh all in one sorte, though he speake thinges neuer so wittilie, shall sone weary his hearers. Figures therefore were inuented, to auoide satietie, and cause delite: to refresh with pleasure and quicken with grace the dulnesse of mans braine. Who will looke on a white wall an houre together where no workemanshippe is at all? Or who will eate still one kynde of meate and neuer desire chaunge o?"’

[Page 340] Prolix Narratives, whether jocose or serious, had not yet ceased to be the entertainment of polite companies: and rules for tel­ling a tale with grace, now found a place in a book of general rhetoric p. In treating of pleasaunt sporte made rehearsyng of a whole matter, he says, ‘"Thei that can liuely tell pleasaunt tales and mery dedes doen, and set them out as wel with gesture as with voice, leauing nothing behinde that maie serue for beau­tifying of their matter, are most mete for this purpose, [Page 341] whereof assuredly ther are but fewe. And whatsoeuer he is, that can aptlie tell his tale, and with countenaunce, voice, and gesture, so temper his reporte, that the hearers may still take delite, hym coompte I a man worthie to be highlie estemed. For vndoubtedly no man can doe any such thing excepte that thei haue a greate mother witte, and by experience confirmed suche their comelinesse, whervnto by nature thei were most apte. Manie a man readeth histories, heareth fables, seeth worthie actes doen, euen in this our age; but few can set them out accordinglie, and tell them liuelie, as the matter selfe requireth to be tolde. The kyndes of delityng in this sort are diuers: whereof I will set forth many.—Sporte moued by tellyng of olde tales.—If there be any olde tale or straunge historie, well and wittelie applied to some man liuyng, all menne loue to heare it of life. As if one were called Ar­thure, some good felowe that were wel acquainted with KYNG ARTHURES BOOKE and the Knightes of his Rounde Table, would want no matter to make good sport, and for a nede would dubbe him knight of the Rounde Table, or els proue hym to be one of his kynne, or else (which were muche) proue him to be Arthur himself. And so likewise of other names, merie panionsq would make madde pastyme. Often­tymes the deformitie of a mannes body giueth matter enough to be right merie, or elles a picture in shape like another manne will make some to laugh right hartelye r, &c."’ This is no unpleasing image of the arts and accomplishments, which seasoned the mirth, and enlivened the conversations of our fore­fathers. Their wit seems to have chiefly consisted in mimicry s.

[Page 342] He thus describes the literary and ornamental qualifications of a young nobleman which were then in fashion, and which he exemplifies in the characters of his lamented pupils, Henry duke of Suffolk and lord Charles Brandon his brother t. ‘"I maie commende hym for his learnyng, for his skill in the French or in the Italian, for his knowledge in cosmographie, for his skill in the lawes, in the histories of al countrees, and for his gift of enditing. Againe, I maie commende him for playing at weapons, for running vpon a great horse, for char­gyng his staffe at the tilt, for vauting, for plaiyng upon in­strumentes, yea and for painting, or drawing of a plat, as in olde time noble princes muche delited therin u."’ And again, ‘"Suche a man is an excellent fellowe, saithe one, he can speake the tongues well, he plaies of instrumentes, fewe men better, he feigneth to the lvte marveilous sweetlie w, he [...]ndites ex­cellentlie: but for al this, the more is the pitee, he hath his faultes, he will be dronke once a daie, he loues women well, &c x."’

The following passage acquaints us, among other things, that many now studied, and with the highest applause, to write ele­gantly in English as well as in Latin. ‘"When we haue learned vsuall and accvstomable wordes to set forthe our meanynge, we ought to ioyne them together in apte order, that the eare maie delite in hearyng the harmonie. I knowe some Eng­lishemen, that in this poinct haue suche a gift in the Englishe as fewe in Latin haue the like; and therefore delite the Wise and Learned so muche with their pleasaunte composition, [Page 343] that many reioyce when thei maie heare suche, and thinke muche learnyng is gotte when thei maie talke with them y."’ But he adds the faults which were sometimes now to be found in English composition, among which he censures the excess of alliteration.—‘"Some will bee so shorte, and in such wise curtall [Page 344] their sentences, that thei had neede to make a commen­tary immediatelie of their meanyng, or els the moste that heare them shal be forced to kepe counsaile. Some wil speake oracles, that a man can not tell, which waie to take them. Some will be so fine, and so poeticall withall, that to their seming there shall not stande one heare [hair] amisse, and yet euery bodie els shall think them meter [fitter] for a ladies chamber, than for an earnest matter in any open assembly.—Some vse overmuche repetition of one letter, as pitifull povertie prayeth for a penie, but pu [...]ed presumpcion passeth not a poinct, pamperyng his panche with pestilent pleasure, procuryng his passeport to poste it to hell pitte, there to be punished with paines perpetuall."’ Others, he blames for the affectation of ending a word with a vowel and beginning the next with another. ‘"Some, he says, ende their sentences al alike, makyng their talke [style] rather to appere rimed meter, than to seme plaine speache.—I heard a preacherz delityng muche in this kinde of composicion, who vsed so often to ende his sentence with woordes like vnto that which went before, that in my iudge­mente, there was not a dosen sentences in his whole sermon but thei ended all in rime for the moste parte. Some, not best disposed, wished the Preacher a Lute, that with his rimed sermon he might vse some pleasaunte melodie, and so the people might take pleasure diuers waies, and daunce if thei liste."’ Some writers, he observes, disturbed the natural arrangement of their words: others were copious when they should be concise. The most frequent fault seems to have been, the rejection of common and proper phrases, for those that were more curious, refined, and unintelligible a.

[Page 345] The English RHETORIC of Richard Sherry, school-master of Magdalene college at Oxford, published in 1555 b, is a jejune and a very different performance from Wilson's, and seems in­tended only as a manual for school-boys. It is entitled, ‘"A treatise of the figures of grammar and rhetorike, profitable to all that be studious of eloquence, and in especiall for such as in grammar schole [...] doe reade moste eloquente poetes and oratours. Wherevnto is ioygned the Oration which Cicero made to Cesar, geuing thankes vnto him for pardonyng and restoring again of that noble man Marcus Marcellus. Sette fourth by Richarde Sherrye Londonar, 1555 c."’ William Fullwood, in his Enemie of idleness, teaching the manner and style howe to endyte and write all sorts of epistles and letters, set forth in English by William Fullwood merchant, published in 1571 d, written partly in prose and partly in verse, has left this notice. ‘"Whoso will more circumspectly and narrowly entreat of such matters, let them read the retorike of maister doctour Wilson, or of maister Richard Rainolde e."’ I have never seen Richard Rai­nolde's RHETORIC, nor am I sure that it was ever printed. The [Page 346] The author, Rainolde, was of Trinity college in Cambridge, and created doctor of medicine in 1567 f. He wrote also a Latin tract dedicated to the duke of Norfolk, on the condition of princes and noblemen g: and there is an old CRONICLE in quarto by one Richard Reynolds h. I trust it will be deemed a pardonable anticipation, if I add here, for the sake of connec­tion, that Richard Mulcaster, who from King's college in Cam­bridge was removed to a Studentship of Christ-church in Oxford about the year 1555, and soon afterwards, on account of his distinguished accomplishments in philology, was appointed the first master of Merchant-Taylor's school in London i, published a book which contains many judicious criticisms and observations on the English language, entitled, ‘"The first part of the ELE­MENTARIE, which entreateth chefely of the right writing of the English tung, sett forth by Richard Mulcaster, Lond. 1582 k</