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T'here dydde theie tell the merrie lovynge fage, Stylle does hys ashes shoote ynto the lyghte, Croppe the prymrosen tloure to decke theyre A wondrous mountayne hie, and Snowdon ys ytte headde;

hyghte. The feerie Gendolyne yn woman rage Gemoted warriours to bewreck her bedde; Theie rose; ynne battle was greete Locryne sleene;

AN EXCELENTE BALADE OF CHARITIE. The faire Elstrida fledde from the enchafed queene.

AS WROTEN BIE The gobe PRIESTE THOMAS A tye of love, a dawter fayre she hanne, (daie,

ROWLEIE'. 1464.
Whose boddeynge morneyng shewed a fayre
Her fadre Locrynne, once an hailie manne.

[This poem is printed from a single sheet in ChatWyth the fayre dawterre dydde she haste awaie,

terton's hand-writing, coinmunicated by Mr. To where the Western mittee pyles of claie

Barrett, who received it from Chatterton.] Arise ynto the cloudes, and doe them beere; There dyd Elstrida and Sabry na staje; The fyrste tryckde out a whyle yn warryours

In Virgyne the sweltrie Sun gan sheene, gratch and gear,

And hotte upon the mees did caste his raie; Vyncentewas she ycleped, butte fulle soone fate The apple rödded from its palie greene, Sente deathe, to telle the dame, she was notte yn And the mole peare did bende the leafy spraje; regrate.

The peede chelandri sunge the lyvelong daie;

'Twas nowe the pryde, the inanhode of the yeare, The queene Gendolyne sente a gyaunte knyghte, And eke the grounde was dighte in its mose defte Whose doughtie heade swepte the emmertleynge

skies, To slea her wheresoever she shulde be pyghte, The Sun was glemeing in the midde of daie, Eke everychone who shulde her ele emprize. Deadde still the aire, and eke the welken blue, Swefte as the roareynge wyndes the gyaunte flies, When from the sea arist in drcar arraje Stayde the loude wyndes, and shaded reaulmes A hepe of cloudes of sable sullen hue, yn nyghte,

The which full fast unto the woodlande drewe, Stepte over cytties, on meint acres lies, [lighte; Hiltring attenes the Sunnis fetyve face, Meeteynge the berehaughtes of morneynge And the blacke tempeste swolne and gatherd Tyll mooveynge to the Weste, myschaunce hys up apace.

gye, He thorowe warriours gratch fayre Elstrid did espie. Beneathe an holme, faste by a pathwaie side,

Which dide unto Seyncte Godwine's covent? He tore a ragged mountayne from the grounde,

A hapless pilgrim moneynge dyd abide, (lede, Harried uppe noddynge forrests to the skie,

Pore in his viewe, ungentle in his wecde, Thanne wythe a fuirie, mote the erthe astounde, Longe bretful of the miseries of neede, To medule ayre he lette the mountayne fie. Where from the hail-stone coulde the almer) flie? The flying wolfynnes sente a yelleynge crie; He had no housen theere, ne anie covent nie. Onne Vyncente and Sabryna felle the mount; Tolyve æternalle dyd theie eftsoones die;

Look in his glommed * face, his sprighte there Thorowe the sandie grave boiled up the pourple scanne; founte,

Howe woe-be-gone, howe withered, forwynd, On a broad grassie playne was layde the hylle,

deade!

(manne! Staieynge the rounynge course of ineint a limmed Haste to thie church-glebe-house, asshrewed rylle.

Haste to thie kiste, thie onlie dortoure bedde,

Cale, as the claie which will gre on thic hedde, The goddes, who kenned the actyons of the Is charitie and love aininge higbe elves; wyghte,

Knightis and barons live for pleasure and themTo leggen the sadde happe of twayne so fayre,

selves. Houton dyd make the mountaine bie theire mighte.

'Thornas Roreley, the author, was born at Norton Forth from Sabryna ran a ry verre cloere, Roarynge and rolleynge on yn course by sınare; convent of St. Kenna, at Keynesham, and died at

Mal-reward, in Somersetshire, educated at the From female Vyncente shotte a ridge of stones, Westbury in Gloucestershire. Eche syde the ryver rysynge heavenwere;

a Seyncte Godwine's Covent. It would have been Sabrynas floode was helde ynne Elstryds bones. charitable, if the author had not pointed at personal So are theie cleped; gentle and the hynde

characters in this Ballad of Charity. The Abbott Can telle, that Severnes streeme bie Vyncentes of St. Godwin's at the time of the writing of this rocke's ywrynde.

was Ralph de Bellomont, a great stickler for the The bawsyn gyaunt, hee who dyd them slee, Lancastrian family. Rowley was a Yorkist. To telle Gendolyne quycklie was ysped;

3 Unauthorized, and contrary to analogy. Whanne, as he strod alonge the shakeynge lee,

4 Glommed, clouded, dejected. A person of some The roddie levynne glesterrd on hys headde:

note in the literary world is of opinion, that glum Into hys hearte the azure vapoures spreade;

and glom are modern cant words; and from this He wrythde arounde drearie dernie payne;

circumstance doubts the authenticity of Rowley's yn Whanne from his lyfe-bloode the roude lemes Manuscripts. Glummong in the Saxon signifies were fed,

twilight, a dark or dubious light; and the modern He felle an hepe of ashes on the playne:

word gloomy is derived from the Saxon glum.

The gatherd storme is rype; the bigge drops An almes, sir prieste! the droppynge pilgrima faile;

[raine;

saide, The forswat meadowes smethe, and drencbe the 10! let me waite within your covente dore, The comyng ghastness do the cattle pall,

Till the Sunne sheneth bie above our heade, And the full Hockes are drivynge ore the plaine; And the loud tempeste of the aire is oer; Dashde from the cloudes the waters Aott againe; Helpless and ould am I alass! and poor;

The welkin opes; the yellow levynne flies; No house, ne friend, ne moneie in my pouche; And the hot fierie smothe in the wide lowings dies. All yatte I call my owne is this my silver erouche. Liste! now the thunder's rattling clymmynge Varlet, replyd the Abbatte, cease your dinde; sound

This is no season almes and prayers to give; Cheves slowlie on, and then embolleo clangs, Mie porter never lets a faitour in; Shakesthebiespyre,and losst,dispended,drown'd, None touch mie rynge who not in honour lire. Still on the gallard 5 eare of terroure hanges; And now the Sonne with the blacke cloudes did The windes are up; the lofty elmen swanges;

stryve, Agayn the levyine and the thunder poures, And shettynge on the groumde his glairie raie, And the full cloudes are braste attenes in stonen The Abbatte spurrde his steede, and eftsoones showers.

roadde awaie. Spurreynge his palfrie oere the watrie plaine, Opce moetheskie was blacke, the thounder rolde; The Abbote of Seyncte Godwynes convente Faste reyneynge per the plaine a prieste was came;

seen; His chapournette 6 was drented with the reine, Ne diyhte full proude, ne buttoned up in golde; And his pencte gyrdle met with mickle shame; His cope and jape were graie, and eke were He aynewarde told his bederoll at the same; A Limitvure he was f order seene; clene;

The storie encreasen, and he drew aside, ( bide. And from the pathwaie side then turned het, With the mist alımes craver necre to the holme to Where the pore aimer laie bidethe the holmen tret.

His cope was all of Lyncolne clothe so fyne, An almes, sir priest! the droppynge pilgrim With a gold button fasten'd neere his chynne;

sayde, His autremete was edged with golden twvine, For sweete seyncte Marie and your order sake. And his shoonepykealoverds inighte have bione;

The Limitoure then lous n'd his pouche threade, Full well it shewn he thoughten corte no siune:

Aud did therevute a grúate of syiver take; The traminels of the paltrye pleasde his sighte, The mister pily m dyd for hailide shake. For the horse-millanare 8 bis head with rosesdigite.

Here take this silver, it maie «atbe tnie care;

We are Goddes stewards ali, nete of oure owne we 5 Gallied is still used in this sense in the coun

bare. try around Bristol,

But ah! unhailie pilgrim, lerne of me, 6 Chapournelte, a small round hat, not unlike the

Scathe anie give a rentroile to their Lorde. sharouinette in heraldry, formerly worn by cccle

Here take my semecope, thou arte bare I see; siasties and lawvers.

Tis thyne; the seynctes, will give me mie reJie aynewardle to!de his lederoll, he told his beads

warde, backwards; a figurative expression to signify

He left the pilgrim, and his waie aborde, cursing

Vyrgynneand hallie Seyncte, who sitte yn gloure, 8 Horse-millanare, I believe this trade is still in Or give the mittee will, or give the gode maa being, though but seldom employed.

power. Mr. Steevens has left a curious note upon this word. “ One morning, while Mr. Tyrwhitt and I were at Bristol, in 1776, we had not proceeded far from our lodging, before he found he had left on

BATTLE OF HASTINGS. his table a memorandum book which it was necessary he should have about him. He therefore re- [In printing the first of these poems two copies turned to fetch it, while I stood still in the very have been made use of, both taken from copios place we parted at, looking on the objects about of Chatterton's handwriting, the one by Mr.Cat me. By this spot, as I was subsequently assured, the young Chatterton would naturally pass to the

trade had been extant in 1464; but his wonder charity school on St. Augustine’s-Back, where he

would have ceased, had he been convinced as I am, was eriscated. But whether this circumstance be

that, in a public part of Bristol, full in sight of correctly stated or not, is immaterial to the ceneral tendency of the following remark. On the spot every passer by, was a Sadier's shop, orer wani

was inscribed A or B (no matter which) Horse however where I was standing, our retentive ob.

Milliner. On the outside of one of the window server had picked up an idea which afterwards

of the same operator, stood (and I suppose va found its way into his Excelente Balade of Cha- stands) a wooden borse dressed out with ribboes, ritie, as wroten bie the gode prieste Thomas Row

to explain the nature of horse-millinery. We base leie. 1464.

here, perhaps, the history of this modem image, For the horse-millanare his head with roses which was impressed by Chatterton into bis de dighte.

scription of an Abbote of Seyncte Godsynes Cou

vente.” The considerate reader must obviously have stared 9 Jape, a short surplice, wom by friars of an iron being informed that such a term and such a ferior class, and secular priests,

cott, and the other by Mr. Barrett. The princi- , Your onlie lode for aye to mar or make, pal difference between them is at the end, where Before yon Sunne bas donde his welke you 'll fynde. the latter has fourteen lines from ver. 550, which Your lovynge wife, who erst dyd rid the londe are wanting in the former. The second poem Of Lurdanes, and the treasure that you han, is printed from a single copy, made by Mr. Bar- Wyll falle into the Normanne robber's honde,

rett from one in Chatterton's hand-writing. Unlesse with honde and harie you plaie the manne. It should be observed, that the poem marked No. 1, Cheer up youre hartes,chase sorrowe farre awaie,

was given to Mr. Barrett by Chatterton with Godde and seyncte Cuthbert be the worde to the following title: “ Battle of Hastings, wrote by

daie. Turgot the Munk, a Saxon, in the tenth century, and translated by Thomas Rowlie, parish And thenne duke Wyllyam to his knyghtes did preeste of St. John's in the city of Bristol, in the

saie; year 1465.—The remainder of the poem I have Gif I do gayil the honore of the daie,

My merrie menne, be bravelie everiche; not been happy enough to meet with.” Being afterwards prest by Mr. Barrett to produce any Ech one of you I wyll make myekle riche. part of this poem in the original hand-writing, Beer you in mynde, we for a kyngdomm fyghte: he at last said that he wrote this poem himself Lordshippes and honores echone sball possesse; for a friend; but that he had another, the copy Ne doubte but God will oure true cause blesse.

Be this the worde to daie, God and my ryghte; of an original by Rowley: and being then desired to produce that other poem, he, after a

The clarions then sounded sharpe and shrille; considerable interval of time, brought to Mr.

Deathdoeynge blades were out intent to kille. Barrett the poem marked No. 2, as far as ver. And brave kyng Harrolde bad nowe donde bis saie; 530 incl.with the following title; “Battle of Has- He threwe wythe myghte amayne hys shorte horsetvngs by Turgotus, translated by Roulie for W.

spear, Canynge Esq." The lines from ver. 531 incl. The noise it made the duke to turn awaie, were brought some time after, in consequence And hytt bis knyghte, de Beque, upon the ear. of Mr. Barrett's repeated solicitations for the His cristede beaver dyd him smalle abounde; conclusion of the poem.)

The cruel spear went thorough ail his hede;
The purpel bloude came goushynge to the grounde,
And at duke Wyllyam's feet he tumbled deade:

So fell the myghtie tower of Standrip, whenne (No. 1.)

It felte the furie of the Danish menne. O Caryste, it is a grief for me to telle,

O AMem, son of Cuthbert, holie sayncte, How manie a nobil erle and valrous knyghte

Come ayde thy freend, and shewe duke Wyllyams In fyghtynge for kynge Harrold noblie fell,

payne; Al sleyne in Hastyngs feeld in bloudie fyghte. Take up thy pencyl, all his features paincte; O sea! our teeming donore, han thy floude,

Thy coloryng excells a syliger strayne. Han anie fructuous entendement, [bloude, Duke Wyllyam sawe his freende sleyne piteouslie, Thou wouldst have rose and sank wyth tydes of His lovynge freende whome he mucbe honored, Before duke Wyllyam's knyghts han hither went;

For he han lovd hym from puerilitie, Whose cowart arrows manie erles sleyne,

And theie together bothe han bin ybred: And brued the feeld wyth bloude as season

0! in duke Wyllyam's harte it raysde a flame, rayne.

To whiche the rage of emptie wolves is tame.

He tooke a brazen crosse-bowe in his honde, And of his knyghtes did eke full manie die,

And drewe it harde with all hys myghte amein, All passing hje, of mickle myghte echone,

Ne doubtyng but the bravest in the londe Whose poyenant arrowes, typp'd with destynie,

Han by his soundynge arrowe lede' bene sleyne. Caus'd manie wydowes to make myckle mone.

Alured's stede, the fynest stede alive,
Lordynges, avaunt, that chycken-harted are,
From out of hearynge quicklie now departe;

Bye comlie forme knowlached from the rest;

But nowe his destind howre dyd aryve, Full well I wote, to synge of bloudie warre

The arrowe hyt upon bis milk white breste:
Will greeve your tenderlie and mayden harte.

So bave I seen a ladie-smock soe white,
Go, do the weaklie womman inn mann's geare,
And scond your mansion if grymm war come

Blown in the mornynge, and mowd downe at

night. tbere.

With thilk a force it dyd his boddie gore, Soone as the erlie maten belle was tolde,

That in his tender guttes it entered, And Sonne was come to byd us all good daje,

In veritee a full clothe yarde or more, Bothe armies on the feeld, both brave and bolde,

And downe with faiten noyse he sunken dede.
Prepar'd for fyghte in champyon arraie.
As when two bulles, destynde for Hocktide fyghte, Was smeerd all over withe the gorie duste,

Brave Alured, benethe his faithfull horse,
Are yoked bie the necke within a sparre,
Theie rend the erthe, and travellyrs affryghte,
Lackynge to gage the sportive bloudie warre;

1 One commentator supposes that this means Soe lacked Harroldes menne to come to blowes, the path of the arrow, from the Saxon lade, iter. The Normans lacked for to wielde their bowes. profectiv. Dean Milles, that it may mean an ar

row headed with lead, or that it is mispelled for Kynge Harrolde turnynge to hys leegemen spake; arrow-hede. Either of these latter conjectures is My merrie men, be not cast downe in mynde;

probable.

And on hym laie the recer's lukewarme corse, He dy'd and leffed wyfe and chyldren tweine, That Alured coulde not hymself aluste.

Whom he wythe cheryshment did dearlie love; The standyng Normans drew theyr bowe | In England's court, in goode kynge Edward's echone,

[downe.

regne, And broght full manie Englysh champyons Hewonne the tylte, and ware her crymson glore;

And thence unto the place where he was borne, The Normans kept aloofe, at distaunce stylle, Together with bys welthe and better wyfe, The Englysh nete but short horse-spears could To Normandie he dyd perdie returne, welde;

In peace and quietnesse to lead his lyfe; The Englysh manie dethe-sure dartes did kille, And now with sovrayn Wyllyam he came, And manie arrowes twang'd upon the sheelde.

To die in battel, or get welthe and fame. Kynge Haroldes knyghts desir'de for hendie stroke, And marched furious o'er the bloudie pleyne, Then, swefte as lyghtnynge, Egelredus set In bodie close, and made the pleyne to smoke; Agaynst du Barlie of the mounten head; Their sheelds rebounded arrowes back agaynne.

In his dere hartes bloude his longe launce was wett, The Normans stode aloofe, vor hede the same,

And from his courser down he tumbled dede. Their arrowes woulde do dethe, tho' from far of So have 1 sene a mountayne oak that longe they came.

Has caste his shadowe to the mountayne syde,

Brave all the wyndes, tho' ever they so stronge, Duke Wyllyam drewe agen hys arrowe strynge, And view the briers belowe with self-taught pride; An arrowe withe a sylver-hede drewe he;

But, whan throwne downe by mightie thunder The arrowe dauncynge in the ayre dyd synge,

stroke, And hytt the horse Tosselyn on the knee.

He'de rather bee a bryer than an oke, At this brave Tosslyn threwe his short horsespeare;

Then Egelred dyd in a declynie Duke Wyllyam stooped to avoyde the blowe; Hys launce uprere with all hys myghte ameine, The yrone weapon hummed in his eare,

And strok Fitzport upon the dexter eye, And bitte sir Doullie Naibor on the prowe:

And at his pole the spear came out agayne. Upon his helme soe furious was the stroke, Butt as he drewe it forthe, an arrowe fledde It splete his beaver, and the ryvets broke. Wyth mickle myght sent from de Tracy's bowe,

And at hys syde the arrowe entered, Downe fell the heaver by Tosslyn splete in tweine, And out the crymson streme of bloude gan flowe; And onn his bede expos'd a punie wounde,

In purple strekes it dyd hys armer staine, But on Destoutvilles sholder came ameine,

And smok'd in puddles on the dustie plaine. And felld the champyon to the bloudie grounde. Then Doullie myghte bis bowestrynge drewe,

But Egelred, before he sunken downe, Enthoughte to gyve brave Tosslyn bloudie wounde, With all his myghte amein bis spear besped, But Harolde's assenglave 3 stopp'd it as it flewe,

It hytte Bertrammil Manne upon the crowne, And it fell bootless on the bloudie grounde. And bothe together quicklie sunken dede.

Siere Doullie, when he sawe hys venge thus broke, So have I seen a rocke o'er others hange,
Death-doynge blade from out the scabard toke. Who stronglie plac'd laughde at his slippry

state,
And nowe the battail closde on everych syde, But when he falls with heaven-peercynge bange
And face to face appeard the knyghtes full brave; | That he the sleeve unravels all theire fate,
They lifted up theire bylles with myckle pryde, And broken on the beech thys lesson speak,
And manie woundes unto the Normans gave.

The stronge and firme should not defame the So have I sene two weirs at once give grounde,

weake, White fomyng hygh to rorynge combat runne; In roaryng dyn and heaven-breaking sounde, Howel ap Jevah came from Matraval, Burste waves on waves, and spangle in the sunne; Where he by chaunce han slayne a noble's son,

And when theirmyghte in burstyngewaves is tled, And now was come to fyghte at Harold's call, Like cowards, stele alonge theire ozy bede. And in the battel he much goode han done;

Unto kyng Harold he foughte mickle near, Yonge Egelrede, a knyghte of comelie mein,

For he was yeoman of the bodie guard 4; Affynd unto the kynge of Dynefarre,

And with a targyt and a fyghtyng spear, At echone tylte and tourney he was seene,

He of his boddie han kepte watch and ward: And lov'd to be amonge the bloudie warre;

True as a shadow to a substant thynge, He couch'd hys launce, and ran wyth mickle So true he guarded Harold hys good kynge. Ageinste the brest of sieur de Bonoboe; (myghte He grond and sunken on the place of fyghte, But when Egelred tumbled to the grounde, O Chryste! to fele hys wounde, hys harte was woe. He from kynge Harolde quicklie dyd advaunce, Ten thousand thoughtes push'd in upon his mynde,

4 The author of the Examination, printed st Not for hymselfe, but those he left behynde.

Sherborne, remarks thus upon this passage. Howel

is called in the above lines“ yeoman of the body 2 Mr. Bryant and Mr. Tyrwhitt agree that this guard.” Now that office was unknown in the word has been put by a mistake of Chatterton's days of Turgot, and did not subsist even in 1465, for ajuste.

at wbich time the poem is said to bave been tradis. 3 This word is not known; it occurs again in later. King Henry 7 was the first that set up the this poem, I. 423. Chatteron has used it in The band of pensioners. The yeomen of the guard Unknown Knight.

were instituted afterwards,

And strooke de Tracie thilk a crewel wounde, His distant sonne, sire Romara di Biere,
Hys harte and lever came out on the launce. Soughte to revenge his fallen kynsman's lote,
And then retreted for to guarde hys kynge, But soone erle Cuthbert's dented fyghtyng spear
On dented launce he bore the harte awaie; Stucke in his harte, and stayd his speed, God wote.
An arrowe came from Auffroie Griel's strynge, He tumbled downe close by hys kynsman's syde,
Into hys heele betwyxt hys yron staie ;

Myngle their stremesof pourple bloude, and dy'd.
The grey-gooseö pynion, that thereon was sett, and now an arrowe from a bowe unwote
Eftsoonis wyth smokyugcrymson bloud was wett.

Into erle Cuthbert's harte eftsoones dyd flee; His blonde at this was waxen flaminge hotte, Who dying sayd; ah me! how hard my lote! Without adoe he turned once agayne,

Now slayne, mayhap, of one of lowe degree. And hytt de Griel thilk a blowe, God wote, So have I seen a leafie elm of yore Maugre hys helme, he splete his hede in twayne. Have been the pride and glorie of the pleine; This Auffroie was a manne of mickle pryde,

But, when the spendyng landlord is growne poore,
Whose featliest bewty ladden in his face; It falls benethe the axe of some rude sweine;
His chaunce in warr he ne before han tryde, And like the oke, the sovran of the woode,
But lyv'd in love and Rosaline's embrace;

Its fallen boddie tells you how it stoode.
And like a useless weede amonge the baie
Amonge the sleipe warriours Griel laie.

When Edelward perceerd erle Cuthbert die,

On Hubert strongest of the Normanne crewe, Kynge Harolde then he putt his yeomen bie, As wolfs when hungred on the cattel flie, And ferslie ryd into the bloudie fyghte;

So Edelward amaine upon him flewe. Erle Ethelwolf, and Goodrick, and Alfie,

With thilk a force he hyt hym to the grounde ; Cuthbert, and Goddard, mical menne of myghte, And was demasing howe to take his life, Ethelwin, Ethelbert, and Edwin too,

When he behynde received a ghastlie wounde Efred the famous, and erle Ethelwarde,

Gyven by de Torcie, with a stabbyng knyfe; Kynge Harolde's leegemenn, erlies hie and true, Base trecherous Normannes, if such acts you Rode after hym, his bodie for to guarde;

The conquer'd mai clame victorie of you. [doe, The reste of erlies, fyghtynge other wheres, Stained with Norman bloude theire fyghtynge The erlie felte de Torcie's treacherous knyfe speres.

Han made his crymson bloude and spirits foe;

And knowlachyng he soon must quyt this lyfe, As when some ryver with the season raynes Resolved Hubert should too with hym goe. White fomynge bie dothe breke the bridges oft, He held hys trustie swerd against his breste, Oerturnes the hamelet and all conteins,

And down he fell, and peerc'd him to the harte; And layeth oer the hylls a muddie soft;

And both together then did take their reste, So Harold ranne upon bis Normanne foes, Their soules from corpses unaknell'd depart; And layde the greate and small upon the grounde, And both together soughte the unknown shore, And delte among them thilke a store of blowes, Where we shall goe, where manie's gon before. Full manie a Normanne fell by hym dede wounde;

So who he be that ouphant faieries strike, Kynge Harolde Torcie's trechery dyd spie, Their soules will wander to kynge Offa's dyke. And hie alote his temper'd swerde dyd welde,

Cut offe hys arme, and made the bloude to flie, Fitz Salnarville,duke William's favourite knyghte, His proofe steel armoure did him littel sheelde; To noble Edelwarde his life dyd yielde; (myghte, | And not content he splete his hede in twaine, Withe hys tylte launce hee stroke with thilke a And down he tumbled on the bloudie grounde; The Norman's bowels steemde upon the feeld. Mean while the other erlies on the playne Old Salnarville beheld hys son lie ded,

Gave and received manie a bloudie wounde, Against erle Edelwarde his bowe-strynge drewe; Such as the arts in warre han learnt with care, But Harold at one blowe made tweine his head; But manie knyghtes were women in men's gear. He dy'd before the poignant arrowe flew. So was the hope of all the issue gone,

Herrewald, borne on Sarim's spreddyng plaine, And in one battle fell the sire and son.

Where Thor's fam'd temple manie ages stoode;

Where Druids, auncient preests dyd ryghtes orDe Aubignee rod fercely thro' the fyghte,

daine, To where the boddie of Salnarville laie;

And in the middle shed the victyms blonde; Quod he; And art thou ded, thou manne of myghte? Where ameient bardi dyd their verses synge, T'u be revenged, or die for thee this daie.

of Cæsar conquer'd and his mighty hoste, Die then thou sbalt, erle Ethelward he said;

And how old Tynyan, necromancing kynge, I am a cunnynge erle, and that can tell;

Wreck'd all hys shyppyng on the British coaste, Then drewe hys swerde, and ghastlie cut hys hede, And on his freend eftsoons he lifeless fell, [fend,

6 Mr. Warton argues that this opinion concern. Stretch'd on the bloudie pleyne; great God fore-ing Stonehenge did not exist in the days of Turgot. It be the fate of no such trusty freende!

“ The construction of this stupendous pile by the Then Egwin sieur Pikeny dyd attaque;

Druuls, as a place of worship, was a discovery reserved He turned aboute and vilely souten flie;

for the sagacity of a wiser age, and the laborious But Egwin cutt so deepe into his backe,

discussion of modern antiquaries." Dean Milles

controverts this in a long note without effect. It He rolled on the grounde and soon dyd die.

only appears that he and the poet, with the same 5 The grey goose wing that was thereon ignorance, confound the Celtic and Teutonic diIn his heart's blood was wet.

vinities.

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