What while the humble floweret lowly dight Standeth unhurt, unquashèd by the storm. Such picture is of Life: the man of might Is tempest-chased, his woe great as his form: Thyself, a floweret of a small account, Wouldst harder feel the wind, as higher thou didst mount. MINSTRELS' MARRIAGE-SONG. [From Ella; a Tragical Interlude.] First Minstrel. The budding floweret blushes at the light: In daisied mantles is the mountain dight; The slim1 young cowslip bendeth with the dew; The trees enleafèd, into heaven straught, When gentle winds do blow, to whistling din are brought. The evening comes and brings the dew along ; Second Minstrel. So Adam thought, what time, in Paradise, All heaven and earth did homage to his mind. 1 'Nesh,' tender.-Chatterton. 2. Ynn womman alleyne mannès pleasaunce lyes, As instruments of joie were made the kynde.' VOL. III. Ee Chatterton. Third Minstrel. When Autumn stript and sunburnt doth appear, Bearing upon his back the ripened sheaf; When all the hills with woody seed are white; When levin-fires and gleams do meet from far the sight ; When the fair apples, red as even-sky, Do bend the tree unto the fruitful ground; When juicy pears and berries of black dye Do dance in air and call the eyes around; Then, be it evening foul or evening fair, Methinks my joy of heart is shadowed with some care. Second Minstrel. Angels are wrought to be of neither kind; That, without woman, cannot stillèd be: Albeit, without women, men were peers To savage kind, and would but live to slay; Yet woman oft the spirit of peace so cheers,— Dowered with angelic joy, true angels they2. Go, take thee straightway to thy bed a wife; Be banned, or highly blest, in proving marriage-life. ''Tochelod yn Angel joie heie (they) Angeles bee.'-Chatterton. THE ACCOUNTE OF W. CANYNGE'S FEAST. BY WILLIAM CANYNGE.1 Thorowe the halle the bell han sounde; Ande snoffelle oppe the cheorte steeme. Syke keene theie ate; the minstrels plaie, Butte nodde yer thankes ande falle aslape. Thus echone daie bee I to deene, Gyf Rowley, Iscamm7, or Tyb. Gorges be ne seene. MINSTREL'S ROUNDELAY. [From Ella.] O sing unto my roundelay, O drop the briny tear with me, Like a running river be. My love is dead, Gone to his death-bed, All under the willow-tree. 1 The above piece is given in Chatterton's original spelling, as a sample. Fair welcome.-Chatterton. 8 Becomes.-Chatterton. Cheerful.-Chatterton. (Bel-acceuil.-Tyrwhitt.) Snuff up.-Chatterton. The names of Canynge's favourite poets and friends, as developed in Chatterton's Rowleian system. Black his locks as the winter night, Gone to his death-bed, All under the willow-tree. Sweet his tongue as the throstle's note, O he lies by the willow-tree ! Gone to his death-bed, All under the willow-tree. Hark! the raven flaps his wing Gone to his death-bed, All under the willow-tree. See the white moon shines on high; Whiter is my true love's shroud; Whiter than the morning sky, Whiter than the evening cloud. My love is dead, Gone to his death-bed, All under the willow-tree. Here upon my true love's grave Shall the barren flowers be laid: Not one holy Saint to save All the coldness of a maid! Gone to his death-bed, All under the willow-tree. ■ 'Rode,' complexion.—Chatterton. 'The original concludes with the following quatrain : • Water-witches crowned with reytes, Bear me to your lethal tide. I die! I come! My true love waits! Thus the damsel spake, and died ' In spite of the words 'reytes' (water-flags) and 'lethal' (deadly), this stanza is a false eighteenth-century note, strangely out of harmony with the almost completely sustained tone of the rest of this noble ditty; it is moreover an awkward break-down in metre. I have ventured to transfer it from the text to this foot-note. A word may be needed as to my modernized text: wherever Chatterton's gloss-word has b en adopted instead of his text-word, this is done without notification. Now and then the rhyme or clearness of phrase compelled substitution: this has been specified in the notes in every case of the least importance. |