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Wythe syke an eyne she swotelie hymm dydd view
Dydd soe ycorven everrie shape to joie,
Hys spryte dydd chaunge untoe anodherr hue,

Hysarmes, ne spoyles, mote anie thoughts emploie." Item for washynge the church payven¡¡ijd ob.”]

4th is

and contente, Fyre enshotynge fromme hys eyne, Ynn hys armes hee dydd herr hente, Lyche the merk-plante doe entwyne.

Soe, gyff thou lovest Pleasure and herr trayne,
Onknowlachynge ynn whatt place herr to fynde,
Thys rule yspende, and ynn thie mynde retayne;
Seeke honnoure fyrste, and pleasaunce lies behynde.

BRISTOWE TRAGEDIE:

OR THE DETHE OF SYR CHARLES BAWDIN.

amble of this act, after stating the attainder by the act 1 Edw. IV. goes on thus: "And also the said Baldewyn, the said first yere of your noble reign, at Bristowe in the shere of Bristowe, before Henry erle of Essex, William Hastyngs, of Hastyngs, knt. Richard Chock, William Canyng, maire of the said towne of Bristowe, and Thomas Yong, by force of your letters patentes to theym and other directe to here and determine all treesons, &c. doon withyn the said towne of Bristowe before the vth day of September the first yere of your said reign, was atteynt of dyvers tresons by him doon ayenst your highness, &c." If the commission sat soon after the. vth of September, as is most probable, king Edwarde might very possibly be at Bristol at the time of sir Baldewyn's execution; for in the interval between his coronation and the parliament which met in November, he made a progress (as the continuator of Stowe informs us, p. 416.) by the South coast in the West, and was (among other places) at Bristol. Indeed there is a circumstance which might lead us to believe, that he was actually a spectator of the execution from the minster window, as described in the poem. In an old accompt of the procurators of St. Ewin's church, which was then the minster, from xx March in the 1 Edward IV. to 1 April in the year next ensuing, is the following article, according to a copy made by Mr. Catcott from the original book.

[This poem is reprinted from the copy printed at London in 1772, with a few corrections from a copy made by Mr. Catcott, from one in Chatterton's hand-writing.

THE feathered songster chaunticleer
Han wounde hys bugle horne,
And tolde the earlie villager

The commynge of the morne :
Kynge Edwarde sawe the ruddie streakes
Of lyghte eclypse the greie;
And herde the raven's crokynge throte
Proclayme the fated daic.

"Thou'rt ryghte," quod hee, "for, by the Godde
That syttes enthron'd on hyghe!
Charles Bawdin, and hys fellowes twaine,
To daie shall surelie die."

The person here celebrated under the name of syr Charles Bawdin was probably sir Baldewyn Fulford, knt. a zealous Lancastrian, who was executed at Bristol in the latter end of

1461, the first year of Edward the Fourth. He was attainted, with many others, in the general act of attainder, 1 Edw. IV, but he seems to have been executed under a special commission for the trial of treasons, &c. within the town of Bristol. The fragment of the old chronicle, published by Hearne at the end of Sprotti Chronica, p. 289, says only, " (1 Edw. IV.) was takin sir Baldewine Fulford and behedid at Bristow." But the matter is more fully stated in the act which passed in 7 Edw. IV. for the restitution in blood and estate of Thomas Ful-Henry VI. was taken in disguised apparel at the Abbey of Salley in Yorkshire, by one Cantelow, in 1465. This is a proof that k. Edward IV. had such a person as sir Cantelow much in bis interest and at his command, and affords some additional proof of the authenticity of the poem. Barrett.

It appears by a MSS. (Rich penes me) that

ford, kut. eldest son of Baldewyn Fulford, late of Fulford, in the county of Devonshire, knt. Rot. Pat. 8 Edw. IV. p. 1, m. 13. The pre7 Advance our waving colours on the wails! Shakspeare, Henry 6, part 1.

Thenne wythe a jugge of nappy ale

Hys knyghtes dydd onne hymm waite; "Goe tell the traytour, thatt to-daie

Hee leaves thys mortall state."
Syr Canterlone' thenue bendedd lowe,
Wythe harte brymm fulle of woe;
Hee journey'd to the castle-gate,

And to syr Charles dydd goe.

Butt whenne hee came, hys children twaine,
And eke bys lovynge wyfe,
Wythe brinie teares dydd wett the floore,
For goode syr Charleses lyfe.

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86 My honest friende, my fanlte has beene

To serve Godde and mye prynce;

And thatt I no tyme-server am,

My dethe wylle soone convynce.

· Ynne Londonne citye was I borne,
Of parents of grete note;
My fadre dydd a nobile armes

Emblazon onne hys cote:

"I make ne doubte butt hee y's gone Where soone I hope to goe; Where wee for ever shall bee blest,

From oute the reech of woe:

"Hee taughte mee justice and the laws
Wyth pitie to unite;

And eke hee taughte mee howe to knowe
The wronge cause fromm the ryghte:
'Hee taughte mee wythe a prudent hande
To feede the hungrie poore,

Ne lette my servants dryve awaie

The hungrie fromme my doore:

And none can saye, but alle mye lyfe
I have bys wordyes kept;
And summ'd the actyonns of the daie
Eche nyghte before I slept.

I have a spouse, goe aske of her,
Yff I defyl'd her bedde?

I have a kynge, and none can laie

Blacke treason onne my hedde.

"Ynne Lent, and onne the holie eve,
Fromme fleshe I dydd refrayne;
Whie should I thenne appear dismay'd
To leave thys worlde of payne?
"Ne! hapless Henrie! I rejoyce,
I shall ne see thye dethe;

Moste willynglie ynne thye just cause
Doe I resign my brethe.

"Oh fickle people! rewyn'd londe!

Thou wylt kenne peace ne moe;
Whyle Richard's sonnes exalt themselves,
Thye brookes wythe bloude wylle flowe.

"Saie, were ye tyr'd of godlie peace,
And godlie Henrie's reigne,
Thatt you dydd choppe your easie daies
Forr those of bloude and peyne?
"Whatte tho' I onne a sledde bee drawne,

And mangled by a hynde,

I doe defye the traytor's pow'r,

Hee can ne harm my mynde;
"Whatte tho', uphoisted onne a pole,
Mye lymbes shall rotte ynn ayre,
And ne ryche monument of brasse

Charles Bawdin's name shall bear;
"Yett ynne the holie booke above,
Whyche tyme can 't eate awaie,
There wythe the servants of the Lorde
Mie name shall lyve for aie.

"Thenne welcome dethe! for lyfe eterne I leave thys mortall lyfe:

Farewell, vayne world, and alle that's deare, Mie sonnes and lovynge wyfe;

"Nowe dethe as welcome to mee comes,

As e'er the moneth of Maie;
Nor woulde I even wyshe to lyve,
Wyth my dere wyfe to staie."

Quod Canynge, ""Tys a goodlie thynge
To bee prepar'd to die;

And from thys world of peyne and grefe
To Godde ynne Heav'n to flie."

And nowe the bell beganne to tolle,
And claryonnes to sounde;
Syr Charles hee herde the horses feete
A prauncyng onne the grounde.
And just before the officers,

His lovynge wyfe came ynne,
Weepynge unfeigned teeres of woe,
Wythe loude and dysmalle dynne.
"Sweet Florence! nowe I praie forbere,
Ynne quiet lett mee die ;

Praie Godde, thatt ev'ry Christian soule
Maye looke onne dethe as 1.

"Sweet Florence! why these brinie teeres?
They washe my soule awaie,

And almost make mee wyshe for lyfe,
Wythe thee, sweete dame, to staie.

"Tys butt a journie I shalle goe
Untoe the lande of blysse ;
Nowe, as a proofe of husbande's love,
Receive thys holie kisse."

Thenne Florence, fault'ring ynne her saie,
Tiemblynge these wordyes spoke,
"Ah, cruele Edwarde! bloudie kynge!
Mie herte ys welle nyghe broke:

"Ah, sweete syr Charles! why wylt thou goe," Wythoute thye lovynge wyfe?

The cruelle axe thatt cuttes thy necke,
Ytte eke shall ende my lyfe."

And nowe the officers came ynne

To brynge syr Charles awaie, Whoe turnedd toe hys lovynge wyfe, And thus to her dydd saie:

"I goe to lyfe, and nott to dethe;

Trust thou ynne Godde above,
And teache thye sonnes to feare the Lorde,
And ynne theyre hertes hym love:
"Teache them to runne the nobile race

Thatt I theyre fader runne:

Florence! shou'd dethe thee take-adieu!
Yee officers lead onne."

Thenne Florence rav'd as anie madde,
And dydd her tresses tere;

"Oh! staie, mye husbande! lorde! and lyfe!"Syr Charles thenne dropt a teare.

"Tyll tyredd oute wythe ravynge loude,
Shee fellen onne the flore;
Syr Charles exerted alle hys myghte,
And march'd fromm oute the dore.

Uponne a sledde hee mounted thenne,
Wythe lookes full brave and swete;
Lookes, thatt enshone ne more concern
Thanne anie ynne the strete.

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The other onne Seyncte Powle's goode gate, A dreery spectacle;

Hys hedde was plac'd onne the hyghe crosse, Ynne hyghe-streete most nobile.

Thus was the ende of Bawdin's fate:

Godde prosper longe oure kynge, And grante hee maye, wyth Bawdia's soule, Ynne Heav'n Godd's mercie synge!

And learn the builder's vertues and his name; Of this tall spyre in every countye tell, And with thy tale the lazing rych men shame; Showe howe the glorious Canynge did excelle; How hee good man a friend for kynges becaine, And gloryous paved at once the way to Heaven and fame.

ONN OURE LADIES CHYRCHE.

[From a copy made by Mr. Catcott, from one in Chatterton's hand-writing.]

As

onn a hylle one eve sittynge,

At oure Ladie's chyrche mouche wonderynge,
The counynge handiworke so fyne,
Han well nighe dazeled mine eyne;
Quod 1; "Some counynge fairie hande
Yreer'd this chapelle in this lande;
Fulle well I wote so fyne a syghte
Was ne yreer'd of mortall wighte."
Quod Trouthe; "Thou lackest knowlachynge;
Thou forsoth ne wotteth of the thynge.
A rev'rend fadre, William Canynge hight,
Yreered uppe this chapelle brighte;
And eke another in the towne,

Where glassie bubblynge Trymme doth roun."
2uod I; "Ne doubte for all he's given
His sowle will certes goe to Heaven.
"Yea," quod Trouthe; "than-goe thou home,
And see thou doe as hee hath donne."
Quod I; "I doubte, that can ne bee;
I have ne gotten markes three." [dedes soe;
Quod Trouthe; "As thou hast got, give almes-
Canynges and Gaunts culde doe ne moe."

ON THE SAME.

[From a MS. in Chatterton's hand-writing, furnished by Mr. Catcott, entitled, A Discorse on Bristowe, by Thomas Rowlie.]

1

STAY, curyous traveller, and pass not bye, Until this fetive pile astounde thine eye. Whole rocks on rocks with yron joynd surveie, And okes with okes entremed disponed lie. This mightie pile, that keeps the wyndes at baie, Fyre-levyn and the mokie storme defie, That shootes aloofe into the reaulmes of daie, Shall be the record of the buylders fame for aie.

Thou seest this maystrie of a human hand, The pride of Brystowe and the westerne lande, Yet is the buylders vertues much moe greete, Greeter than can bie Rowlies pen be scande. Thou seest the saynctes and kynges in stonen state, [pande, That seemd with breath and human soule disAs payide to us enseem these men of slate, Such is greete Canynge's mynde when payrd to God elate.

Well maiest thou be astounde, but view it well; Go not from hence before thou see thy fill,

ON THE DEDICATION OF OUR

LADIE'S CHURCH.

[This poem was given by Chatterton in a note to the Parlyamente of Sprytes. The lines are here divided into the ballad length.]

SOONE as bryght Sunne alonge the skyne,
Han sente hys ruddie lyghte;
And fayryes hyd ynne Oslyppe cuppes,
Tylle wysh'd approche of nyghte,
The mattyn belle wyth shryllie sounde
Reeckode throwe the ayre;

A troop of holie freeres dyd,
For Jesus masse prepare.
Arounde the highe unsaynted chyrche
Wythe holie relyques wente;
And every door and poste aboute
Wythe godlie thynges besprent

Then Carpenter yn scarlette dreste,
And mytred holylie;

From Mastre Canynge hys greate howse
Wyth rosarie dyd hie.

Before hym wente a throng of freeres

Who dyd the masse song synge, Behynde hym Mastre Canynge came, And then a rowe of holie freeres Tryckd lyke a barbed kynge.

Who dyd the mass songe sound;
The procurators and chyrche reeves
Next press'd upon the ground.
And when unto the chyrche theye came
A holie masse was sange,
So lowdlie was theyr swotie voyce,
The Heven so hie it range.
Then Carpenter dyd puryfie

The chyrche to Godde for aie,
Wythe holie masses and good psalmes
Whyche hee dyd thereyn saie.
Then was a sermon preeched soon
Bie Carpynterre holie,
And after that another one
Yprecchen was bie mee:

Then alle dyd goe to Canynges house
An enterlude to playe,
And drynk hys wyne and ale so goode
And praie for him for aie.

ON THE MYNSTER. [This poem is reprinted from Barrett's History of Bristol. It is said by Chatterton to be translated by Rowley, "as nie as Englyske wyll serve, from the original, written by Abbot John, who was ynductyd 20 yeares, and dyd act as abbatt 9 yeares before hys inductyon for Phillip then abbatt: he dyed yn M.CC.XV. beynge buryed in his albe in the mynster."]

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