图书图片
PDF
ePub

WITH daitive steppe Religyon, dyghte in greie, [waie, Her face of doleful hue, Swyfte as a takel thro'we bryghte Heav'n tooke her And ofte and ere anon dyd saie "Aie! mee! what shall I doe; "See Brystoe citie, whyche I nowe doe kenne, Arysynge to mie view,

"Thycke throng'd wythe soldyers and wythe Butte sayhctes I seen few." [traffyckmenne; Fytz-Hardynge rose; he rose lyke bryghte sonne in the morne,

"Faire dame adryne thein eyne,
"Let alle thie greefe bee myne,

For 1 wylle rere thee uppe a mynster hie;
The toppe whereof shall reach ynto the skie;
"And wylle a monke be shorne;"
Thenne dyd the dame replie,

"I shall ne be forelourne;

Here wyll I take a cherysaunied reste, And spend mie daies upon Fytz-Hardynges breste."

ON HAPPIENESSE.

BY WILLIAM CANYNGE,

[This, and the two following poems, attributed to Mr. Canynge, are printed from Mr. Catcott's copies.]

MAIE Selynesse on Erthes boundes bee hadde?
Maie yt adyghte yn human shape be found?
Wote yee, yt was wyth Edin's bower bestadde,
Or quite eraced from the scaunce-layd grounde,
Whan from the secret fontes the waterres dyd
abounde?

Does yt agrosed shun the bodyed waulke,
Lyve to ytself and to yttes ecchoe taulke?

All hayle, Contente, thou mayd of turtle-eyne,
As thie behoulders thynke thou arte iwreene,
To ope the dore to Selynesse ys thyne,
And Chrystis glorie doth upponne thee sheene.
Doer of the foule thynge ne hath thee scene;
In caves, ynn wodes, ynn woe, and dole distresse,
Whoere hath thee hath gotten Selynesse.

[blocks in formation]

Ne moe, ne moe, alass! I call you myne:
Whydder must you, ah! whydder must I goe?
I kenn not either; oh mie emmers dygne,
To parte wyth you wyll wurcke mee myckle
woe;

I muste be gonne, botte whare I dare ne telle;
O storthe, unto mie mynde! I goe to Helle.
Soone as the morne dyddyghte the roddie Sunne,
A shade of theves eche streake of lyght dyd
seeme;
[runn,
Whan ynn the Heavn full half hys course was
Eche stirrying nayghbour dyd mie harte afleme:
Thye loss, or quyck or slepe, was aie mie

dreme;

For thee, O gould, I dyd the lawe ycrase; For thee, I gotten or bie wiles or breme; Ynn thee I all mie joie and good dyd place; Botte nowe to mee thie pleasaunce ys ne moe, I kenne notte botte for thee 1 to the quede must, gue.

THE ACCOUNT OF W. CANYNGES FEAST. BY THE SAME.

Sir

[This poem is taken from a fragment of vellum, which Chatterton gave to Mr. Barrett as an original. With respect to the three friends of Mr. Canynge, mentioned in the last line, the name of Rowley is sufficiently known from the preceding poems. Iscamm appears as an actor in the tragedy of Ælla, and in that of Goddwyn; and a poem, ascribed to him, entitled, The Merry Tricks of Laymington, is inserted in the Discorse of Bristow. Theobald Gorges was a knight of an ancient family seated at Wraxhall, within a few miles of Bristol. (See Rot. Parl, 3 H. VI. n. 28. Leland's Itin. vol. VII. p. 98.) He has also appeared as an actor in both the tragedies, and as the author of one of the mynstrelles songes in Ella. His connection with Mr. Canynge is verified by a deed of the latter, dated 20th October, 1467, in which he gives to trustees, in part of a benefaction of 5001. to the churchof St. Mary Redcliffe, " certain jewels of sir Theobald Gorges, knt." which had been pawned to him for 1601.]

[blocks in formation]
[blocks in formation]

THE STORIE OF WILLIAM CANYNGE. [The first 34 lines of this poem are extant upon another of the vellum fragments, given by Chatterton to Mr. Barrett. The remainder is printed from another copy, furnished by Mr. Catcott, with some corrections from another copy, made by Mr. Barrett from one in Chatterton's hand-writing. This poem makes part of a prose work, attributed to Rowley, giving an account of painters, carvellers, poets, and other eminent natives of Bristol, from the earliest times to his own.

It may be proper just to remark here, that Mr. Canynge's brother, mentioned in ver. 129, who was lord mayor of London in 1456, is called Thomas, by Stowe, in his List of Mayors, &c. The transaction alluded to in the last stanza is related at large in some prose memoirs of Rowley. It is there said that Mr. Canynge went into orders, to avoid a marriage, proposed by king Edward, between him and lady of the Widdevile family. It is certain, from the register of the bishop of Worcester, that Mr. Canynge was ordained Acolythe by bishop Carpenter on 19 September, 1467, and received the higher orders of subdeacon, deacon, and priest, on the 12th of March, 1467, O. S. the 2d and 16th of April, 1468, respectively.]

ANENT a brooklette as I laie reclynd, Listeynge to heare the water glyde alonge,

a

Orr, soone as theie dyd see the worldis lyghte, Fate had wrott downe, thys mann ys borne to fyghte.

"Elle," I sayd, or els my mynde dyd saie, "Whie ys thy actyons left so spare yn storie? Were I toe dispone, there should lyvven aie Inn Erthe and Hevenis rolles thie tale of glorie; Thie actes soe doughtie should for aie abyde, And bie theyre teste all after actes be tryde."

Next holie Wareburghus fylld mie mynde,
As fayre a saynete as anie towne can boaste,
Or bee the erthe wyth lyghte or merke ywrynde, ́
I see hys ymage waulkeyng throwe the coaste:
Fitz-Hardynge, Bithrickus, and twentie moe
Ynn visyonn fore mie phantasie dyd goe.

Thus all mie wandrynge faytour thynkeynge
strayde,
[mynde,
And eche dygne buylder dequac'd onn mie
Whan from the distaunt streeme arose a mayde,
Whose gentle tresses mov'd not to the wynde;
Lyche to the sylver Moone yn frostie neete,
The damoiselle dyd come soe blythe and sweete.

[blocks in formation]

Astounded mickle there I sylente laie,
Still scauncing wondrous at the walkynge syghte,
Mie senses forgarde ne coulde reyn awaie;
But was ne forstraughte whan she dyd alyghte
Anie to mee, dreste up yn naked viewe,

Myndeynge how thorowe the greene mees yt Whyche mote yn some ewbrycious thoughtes

twynd,

Awhilst the cavys respons'd yts mottring songe,
At dystaunt rysyng Avonne to be sped,
Amenged wyth rysyng hylles dyd shewe yts head;

Engarlanded wyth crownes of osyer weedes
And wraytes of alders of a bercie scent,
And stickeynge out wyth clowde agested reedes,
The hoarie Avonne show'd dyre semblamente,
Whylest blataunt Severne, from Sabryna clepde,
Rores flemie o'er the sandes that she hepde.
These eynegears swythyn bringethe to my thowghte
Of hardie champyons knowen to the floude,
How onne the bankes thereof brave Ælle foughte,
Elle descended from Merce kynglie bloude,
Warden of Brystowe towne and castel stede,
Who ever and anon made Danes to blede.

Methoughte such doughtie menn must have
sprighte

Dote yn the armour brace that Mychael bore, Whan he wyth Satan kynge of Helle dyd fyghte, And Earthe was drented yn a mere of gore;

a

abrewe.

But I ne dyd once thynke of wanton thoughte:
For well I mynded what bie vowe I hete,
And yn mie pockate han a crouchee broughte,
Whych yn the blosom woulde such sins anete';
I lok'd wyth eyne as pure as angelles doe,
And dyd the everie thoughte of foule eschewe.'

Wyth sweet semblate and an angel's grace
She 'gan to lecture from her gentle breste;
For Trouthis wordes ys her myndes face,
False oratoryes she dyd aie deteste:
Sweetnesse was yn eche worde she dyd ywreene,
Tho shee strove not to make that sweetnesse
sheene.

1 Unauthorized. Dean Milles says it is the old English word nete or nought, with the prefix; to which corresponds the old French verb aneantised (annihilated) used by Chaucer. But there is no proof, that the word nete has ever been used as a verb, even if it exists.

Shee sayd; "Mie manner of appereynge here
Mie name and sleyghted myndbruch maie thee

telle;

[were,

And put hys broder ynto syke a trade, [made. That he lorde mayor of Londonne towne was Eftsoons hys mornynge tourned to gloomie nyghte; I'm Trouthe, that dyd descende fromm heaven-Hys dame, hys seconde selfe, give upp her brethe, Goulers and courtiers doe not kenne mee welle; Thie inmoste thoughtes, thie labrynge brayne I

sawe,

And from thie gentle dreeme will thee adawe.

"Full manie champyons and menne of lore,
Payneters and carvellers have gaind good name,
But there's a Canynge, to encrease the store,
A Canynge, who shall buie uppe all theyre fame.
Take thou mie power, and see yn chylde and

manne

What troulie noblenesse yn Canynge ranne."

As when a bordelier onn ethie bedde,
Tyr'd wyth the laboures maynt of sweltrie daie,
Yu s'epeis bosom laieth hys deft headde,
So, senses souke to reste, my boddie laie;
Fftsoons mie sprighte, from erthlie bandes un-
tyde,

Immengde yn flanched ayre wyth Trouthe asyde.

Strayte was 1 carryd back to tymes of yore,
Whylst Canynge swathed yet yn fleshlie bedde,
And saw all actyons whych han been before,
And all the scroll of Fate unravelled;
And when the fate-mark'd babe acome to sygthe,
I saw hym eager gaspyng after lyghte.

In all hys shepen gambols and chyldes plaie,
In everie merriemakeyng, fayre or wake,
I kenn'd a perpled lyghte of wysdom's raie;
He eate downe learnynge wyth the wastle cake.
As wise as anie of the eldermenne,

He'd wytte enowe toe make a mayre at tenne.

As the dulce downie barbe beganne to gre,
So was the well thyghte texture of hys lore;
Eche dale enhedeynge mockler for to bee,
Greete yn hys councel for the daies he bore.
All tongues, all carrols dyd unto bym synge,
Woadryng at one soe wyse, and yet soe yinge.

Encreaseynge yn the yeares of mortal lyfe,
And hasteynge to hys journie ynto Heaven
Hee thoughte ytt proper for to cheese a wyfe,
And use the sexes for the purpose gevene.
Hee then was yothe of comelie semelikeede,
And hee had made a mayden's herte to blede.

He had a fader, (Jesus rest his soule!)
Who loved money, as bys charie joie;
Hee had a broder (happie manne be's dole!)
Yn mynde and boddie, hys owne fadre's boie;
What then could Canynge wissen as a parte
To gyve to her whoe had made chop of hearte?

But landes and castle tenures, golde and bighes,
And hoardes of sylver rousted yn the ent,
Canynge aud hys favre sweete dyd that despyse,
To change of troulie love was theyre content;
Theie lyv'd togeder yn a house advgne,
Of goode sendaument commilie and fyne.

But soon hys broder and hys syre dyd die,
And lefte to Willyam states and renteynge rolles,
And at bys wyll hys broder Johne supplie.
Hee gave a chauntrie to redeeme theyre soules';

Seekynge for eterne lyfe and endless lyghte,
And sleed good Canynge; sad mystake of dethe!
So have I seen a flower ynn sommer tyme
Trodde downe and broke and widder ynn ytts

pryme.

Next Radcleeve chyrche (oh worke of hande of
Heav'n,

Whare Canynge sheweth as an instrumente,)
Was to my bismarde eyne-syghte newlie giv'n;
'Tis paste to blazonne ytt to good contente.
You that woulde fayn the fetyve buyldynge sce
Repayre to Radcleve, and contented bee.

I sawe the myndbruch of hys nobille soule
Whan Edwarde meniced a seconde wyfe;

I sawe what Pheryons yn hys mynde dyd rolle;
Nowe fyx'd fromm seconde dames a preeste for
lyfe.

Thys ys the manne of menne, the vision spoke;
Then belle for even-songe mie senses woke.

HERAUDYN.

A FRAGMENTE.

[From a MSS. by Chatterton in the British Museum.]

YYNGE Heraudyn al bie the grene wode sate, Hereynge the swote Chelandrie ande the Oue, Seeinge the kenspecked amaylde flourettes nete, Envyngynge to the birds hys love songe true. Syrre preeste camme bie ande forthe his bede-rolle drewe,

Fyve Aves ande on Pater moste be sedde; Twayne songe, the on hys songe of Willowe Rue The odher one

FRAGMENT,

BY JOHN, SECOND ABBATTE OF SEYNCTE AUSTYNS MYNSTERRE.

[From Barrett's History of Bristol. It was sent by Chatterton to Horace Walpole, as a note to Rowleie's Historie of Peyncters. "This John," he says, "was inducted abbot in the year 1186, and sat in the dies 29 years. He was the. greatest poet of the age in which he lived; he understood the learned languages. Take a specimen of his poetry on King Richard 1st."]

HARTE of lyone! shake thie sworde,
Bare thie mortheynge steinede honde:
Quace whole armies to the queede,
Worke thie wylle yn burlie bronde.
Barons here on bankers-browded,
Fyrhte yn furres gaynste the cale;
Whilest thou ynne thonderynge armes
Warriketh whole cyttes bale.
Harte of lyon! sound the beme!
Sounde ytte ynto inner londes,
Freare flies sportine ynne the cleeme,
Inne thie banner terror stondes.

WARRE.

BY THE SAME.

[From Barrett's History of Bristol.

Chatterton says, As you approve of the small specimen of his poetry, I have sent you a larger, which though admirable is still (in my opinion) inferior to Rowley', whose workes when I have leisure I will fairly copy and send you.]

Or warres glumm pleasaunce doe I chaunte mie laie, [the lyne, Trouthe tips the poynctelle, wysdomme skemps Whylste hoare experiaunce telleth what toe saie, And forwyned hosbandrie wyth blearie eyne, Stondeth and woe bements; the trecklynge bryne Rounnynge adone hys cheekes which doeth shewe Lyke hys unfrutefulle fieldes, longe straungers to the ploughe.

Saie, Glowster, whanne besprenged on evrich syde, The gentle hyndlette and the vylleyn felle; Whanne smetheynge sange dyd flowe lyke to a tyde,

And sprytes were damned for the lacke of knelle, Diddest thou kenne ne lykeness to an Helle, Where all were misdeedes doeyng lyche unwise, Where hope unbarred and deathe eftsoones dyd shote theyre eies.

Ye shepster swaynes who the ribibble kenne,
Ende the thyghte daunce, ne loke uponne the
spere:
[menne,

In ugsommnesse ware moste bee dyghte toe
Unseliness attendethe honourewere;
Quaffe your swote vernage and atreeted beere.

[blocks in formation]

YNNE whilomme daies, as Stowe saies,
Ynne famous Brystowe towne
There lyved knyghtes doghtie yn fyghtes
Of marvellous renowne.

A Saxonne boulde renowned of oulde
For dethe and dernie dede,

Maint Tanmen slone the Brugge uponne
Icausynge hem to blede.

Baldwynne hys name, Rolles saie the same
And yev hymme rennome grate,
Hee lyved nere the Ellynteire

Al bie Seyncte Lenardes yate.
A mansion hie, made bosmorelie,
Was reered bie hys honde,
Whanne he ysterve, hys name unkerve
Inne Baldwynne streete doe stonde.
On Ellie then of Mercyann menne
As meynte of Pentells blase,
Inne Castle-stede made dofull dede
And dydde the Dans arase.

None of Rowley's pieces were ever made public, being till the year 1631 shut up in an iron cbest in Redcliff church.

One Leefwyne of kyngelie Lyne

Inne Brystowe towne dyd leve,
And toe the samme for hys gode name
The Ackmanne Yate dyd gev.
Hammon a lorde of hie accorde

Was ynne the strete nempte brede;
So greate hys myghte, soe strynge yn fyghte,
Onne Byker hee dyd fede.

Fitz Lupous digne of gentle lyne
Onne Radclyve made hys Baie,
Inn moddie Gronne the whyche uponne
Botte reittes and roshes laie.
Than Radclyve Strete of mansyonnes meete
And Canynge grete of fayre estate
In semelie gare doe stonde,
Hardynge dydde comme from longe kyngddomme
Bryngeth to tradynge londe.

Inne Knyvesmythe strete to lyné,
Roberte hys sonne, moche gode thynges donne
As abbattes doe blasynne.
Roberte the erle, ne conkered curll
In castle stede dyd fraie
Yynge Henrie to ynn Brystowe true
As Hydelle dyd obaie.

A maioure dheene bee and Jamne hee
Botte anne ungeutle wyghte,
Seyncte Marie tende eche ammie frende
Bie hallie taper lyghte.

[blocks in formation]

But be ytte ne sed bie elde or yynge That ever dheye oderwyse dyd synge Than Ave Maria, &c.

This broder was called evrich wheere To Kenshamm and to Bristol nonnere,

Ave Maria, &c.

[blocks in formation]

tending to confirm the authenticity of these poems. In the first place, this sort of macaronic verse of mixed languages is a style used in the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries. Dante has some of these amongst his Rhyme, (p. 226. vol. 2d. Venice 1741) which are composed of French, Italian, and Latin, and conclude thus:

WALWORTH.

Quæ requirit misericordiam mala causa est.
Alack, alack, a sad dome mine in fay,
But oft with cityzens it is the case;
Honesta turpitudo pro bonâ
Causâ mori, as auntient pensmen sayse.

THE MERRIE TRICKS OF
LAMYNGETOWNE.

BY MAYSTRE JOHN A ISCAM.

[From Dean Milles's edition.]

Namque locutus sum in linguâ trinâ. Skelton, who lived not long after Rowley, has also poems in the same kind of verse. Secondly, the correctness of the Latin, and the propriety of the answers in English, show it to have been written at least by a better scholar than Chatterton. Thirdly, the low humour of the dialogue, although suited to the taste of that early and illiterate age, could be no object of imitation to a modern poet. But it is a most re- A RYGOUROUS doome is myne, upon mie faie: markable circumstance, that he has introduced Before the parent starre, the lyghtsome Sonne, his two Cockneies under the names of two most Hath three tymes lyghted up the cheerful daie, respectable aldermen of the city of London, To other reaulmes must Laymingtonne be gonne, who lived about the year 1380, sir William Or else my flymsie thredde of lyfe is spunne; Walworth and sir John Philpot; men of such And shall I hearken to a cowarts reede, distinguished reputation, not only in their own And from so vain a shade, as lyfe is, runne? city, but also in the whole kingdom, that the No! flie all thoughtes of runynge to the queed: first parliament of Richard the Second, in grant-No! here I'll staie, and let the Cockneies see, ing a subsidy to that king, made it subject to That Laymyntone the brave, will Laymyngetowne still be. the controul and management of these two citizens. (Walsingham, p. 200. Rapin, vol. i. p. 454 and 458.)

PHILPOT.

God ye god den ', my good naighbour, howe d'ye
ayle?

How does your wyfe, man! what never assole?
Cum rectitate vivas, verborum mala ne cures.
WALWORTH.

Ah, Mastre Phyllepot, evil tongues do saie,
That my wyfe will lyen down to daie:
Tis ne twaine moneths syth shee was myne for aie.

PHILPOT.

Animum submittere noli rebus in adversis,
Nolito quædam referenti semper credere.
But I pity you nayghbour, is it so?

This salutation, which should be written God ye good den, is more than once used by Shakespear: In Love's Labour Lost, the clown says,

God dig you den all. Act iv. Sc. 1.

[ocr errors]

To fyght, and not to flee, my sabatans

I'll don, and girth my swerde unto my syde;
I'll go to ship, but not to foreyne landes,
But act the pyrate, rob in every tyde;
With Cockneies bloude Thamysis shall be dyde,
Theire goodes in Bristowę markette shall be solde.
My bark the taverd of the waters ryde,
Her sayles of scarlette and her stere of golde;
My men the Saxonnes, I the Hengyst bee,
And in my shyppe combyne the force of all their
three.

Go to my trustie menne in Selwoods chase,
That through the lessel hunt the burled boare,
Tell them how standes with me the present case,
And bydde them revel down at Watchets shore,
And saunt about in hawlkes and woods no more;
Let every auntrous knyghte his armour brase,
Their meats be mans fleshe, and theyre beverage
Hancele, or hanceled, from the human race;
Bid them, like mee theyre leeder, shape theyre
mynde
[kynde.

gore,

That is to say, God give you a good evening; for dig To be a bloudie foe in armes, gaynst all manis undoubtedly a mistake for give.

RALPH.

So in the dialogue between the Nurse and Mercutio, in Romeo and Juliet, Act ii. Sc. 5. the for- I go my boon companions for to fynde.

[blocks in formation]

[Ralph goes out.

Unfaifull Cockneies dogs! your god is gayne.
When in your towne I spent my greete estate,
What crowdes of citts came flockynge to my
traine,

What shoals of tradesmenne eaten from my plate,
My name was alwaies Laymyngeton the greate;
But whan my wealth was gone, ye kennd me not,
I stoode in warde ye laughed at mie fate,
Nor car'd if Layinyngeton the great did rotte;
But know ye, curriedowes, ye shall soon feele,.
I've got experience now, altho I bought it weele.

DD

« 上一页继续 »