Obrázky na stránke

Sometime I lived at liberty,

But now, I do not so;
She hath my heart so faithfully, ,
That I can love no mo, my

That I can love no mo.

To be refus'd of love, alas!

All earthly things adieu;
My mistress she is merciless,
And will not on me rue, 1 my

And will not on me rue.

Now am I left all comfortless,

And no remead can crave;
My pains they are remeadyless,

And all the wyte you have, my
And all the wyte you have.



O lusty May, with Flora queen,
The balmy drops from Phæbus' sheen,

Prelucent beam before the day,
By thee Diana groweth green,

Through gladness of this lusty May.

Then Esperus that is so bright,
To woful hearts, she casts her light,
O'er buds that bloom on every

brae; And showers are shed forth of that sight,

Through gladness of this lusty May.

1 Rue, Have pity.



Birds on boughs, of every birth,
Rejoicing notes, making their mirth,

Right pleasantly upon the spray;
With flourishings o'er field and firth,

Through gladness of this lusty May.

All lovers that are in care,
To their ladies then do repair,

In fresh mornings before the day;
And are in mirth aye mair and mair,

Through gladness of this lusty May.

Of every month in the year,
To mirthful May there is no peer,

Her glistering garments are so gay;
You lovers all make


cheer, Through gladness of this lusty May.

The above relict is of considerable antiquity, mention being made of it in the “ Complaint of Scotland,” 1549. Four stanzas of “ Lusty May,” are copied into the Bannatyne M.SS. while a complete copy will be found in the “ Aberdeen Cantus.” A faithful reprint of this Song, from the Bannatyne M.SS. has lately been given to the public, along with its original music, by Mr. David Laing, in his Notes (p. 99) to Alexander Scott's Poems.


If I live to grow old, as I find I go

Let this be my fate: in a fair country town,
Let me have a warm house, with a stone at my gate,
And a cleanly young girl to rub my bald pate.

May I govern my passions with an absolute sway;
And grow wiser and better as my strength wears away,
Without gout or stone, by a gentle decay.

In a country town, by a murmuring brook,
With the ocean at distance on which I may look;
With a green spacious plain, without hedge or stile,
And an easy pad nag to ride out a mile.

May I govern my passions, &c.

With Horace and Petrarch, and one or two more
Of the best wits that liv’d in the


before; With a dish of roast mutton, not venison nor teal, And clean, though coarse, linen at every meal.

May I govern my passions, &c.

With a pudding on Sundays, and stout humming liquor,
And remnants of Latin to puzzle the vicar;
With a hidden reserve of good Burgundy wine,
To drink the king's health as oft as we dine.

May I govern my passions, &c.

With a courage

undaunted may

last day!

I face

my And, when I am dead, may the better sort say, In the morning when sober, in the evening when mellow, He is gone, and has left not behind him his fellow!

For he govern'd his passions with an absolute sway; And grew

wiser and better as his strength wore away, Without gout or stone, by a gentle decay.

This beautiful contemplative Song is by DR. WALTER POPE, half-brother to Bishop Wilkins, published by him in 1693, six years after he had resigned his professorship of astronomy in



Gresham College. He was author of several humorous ballads, and of many serious treatises in prose, which are enumerated in Dr. Ward's Lives of the Gresham Professors.


Ah! pleasant land of France, farewell;
That country dear, where many a year
Of infant youth I lov'd to dwell;
Farewell for ever happy days!
The ship which parts our loves, conveys
But half of me:-one-half behind
I leave with thee, dear France, to prove
A token of our endless love,

And bring the other to thy mind. This delicate little sonnet is given by Ritson, from the original French of the thrice unfortunate and accomplished Mary Queen of Scots, apparently written by her upon leaving France, after the death of her first husband Francis II. Mary's early troubles are aptly delineated by Hogg, in the following couplets :

In one short year, her hopes all crossid,
A parent, husband, kingdom lost!
And all ere eighteen summers shed
Their honours o'er her royal head.



Only tell her that I love,

Leave the rest to her and fate;
Some kind planet from above,

May perhaps her pity move:


Lovers on their stars must wait,

Only tell her that I love.

Why, oh why, should I despair?

Mercy's pictur’d in her eye;
If she once vouchsafe to hear,

Welcome hope, and welcome fear:
She's too good to let me die,

Why, oh why, should I despair?

The above is by LORD CUTTS, a soldier of most hardy bravery in King William's wars. In 1701, he was colonel of the Coldstream Guards, when Steel was indebted to him for his military commission, and in gratitude inscribed to him his first work, “ The Christian Hero." On the accession of Queen Anne, he was made lieutenant-general of the forces in Holland; commanderin-chief of the forces in Ireland, under the Duke of Ormond, in 1704, and afterwards one of the Lord Justices of that kingdom, to keep him out of the way of action, a circumstance which broke his heart. He died at Dublin, about the year 1706. Several copies of verses, and eleven songs, are all his published remains.


In page 29, part of a sentence in note to “ Whence comes my love,” has unfortunately been omitted, which ought to have stood thus:-From a M.S. of John HARRINGTON's, dated 1564, and inserted into the Nugæ Antiquæ, a Miscellaneous Collection of original papers in prose and verse, written in the reigns of Henry VIII. Edward VI. Mary, Elizabeth, James L. &c. by Sir John Harrington, the translator of Ariosto, and others who lived in these times, 12mo. Robinson and Roberts, 1767. This John Harrington, &c. (as is continued in note).

« PredošláPokračovať »