The Book of English Songs: From the Sixteenth to the Nineteenth Century

The garlands wither on your brow-
Then boast no more your mighty deeds;
Upon death's purple altar now,

See where the victor-victim bleeds:

All heads must come

To the cold tomb:

Only the actions of the just

Smell sweet, and blossom in the dust.

WHEN THIS OLD CAP WAS NEW.
Anonymous. A.D. 1666.

From a black-letter copy among the Rosburgh Songs and Ballads.

WHEN this old cap was new—

'Tis since two hundred year

No malice then we knew,

But all things plenty were:
All friendship now decays,
(Believe me, this is true)
Which was not in those days,
When this old cap was new.

The nobles of our land

Were much delighted then

To have at their command'

A crew of lusty men;
Which by their coats were known,
Of tawny, red, or blue,

With crests on their sleeves shown,
When this old cap was new.

Now pride hath banish'd all,
Unto our lands reproach,

When he whose means are small

Maintains both horse and coach;

Instead of an hundred men,

The coach allows but two;

This was not thought on then,

When this old cap was new.

Where'er you travell'd then,
You might meet on the way
Brave knights and gentlemen,
Clad in their country grey,
That courteous would appear,
And kindly welcome you;

No puritans then were,

When this old cap was new.

Our ladies in those days,

In civil habit went;
Broad-cloth was then worth praise,
And gave the best content:
French fashions then were scorn'd,
Fond fangles then none knew ;

Then modesty women adorn'd
When this old cap was new.

A man might then behold,

At Christmas in each hall, Good fires to curb the cold,

And meat for great and small; The neighbours friendly bidden, And all had welcome true;

The poor from the gates not chidden, When this old cap was new.

Black-jacks to every man

Were filled with wine and beer;

No pewter pot, nor can,

In those days did appear:

Good cheer in a nobleman's house
Was counted a seemly show;
We wanted not brawn nor souse,
When this old cap was new.

We took not such delight

In cups of silver fine;
None, under the degree of knight,
In plate drank beer or wine :
Now each mechanical man

Hath a cupboard of plate for shew,

Which was a rare thing then,

When this old cap was new.

No captain then caroused,
Nor spent poor soldier's pay.
They were not so abused,

As they are at this day;
Of seven days they make eight,
To keep them from their due;
Poor soldiers had their right,

When this old cap was new.

Which made them forward still
To go, although not prest;
And going with good will,
Their fortunes were the best;
Our English then, in fight,
Did foreign foes subdue;
And forced them all to flight,

When this old cap was new.

God save our gracious King,

And send him long to live!
Lord! mischief on them bring;

That will not their alms give,
But seek to rob the poor

Of that which is their due:
This was not in time of yore,
When this old cap was new.

TOBACCO IS AN INDIAN WEED.

From "Two Broadsides against Tobacco," 1672.

THIS Indian weed, now withered quite,
Though green at noon, cut down at night,
Shows thy decay;

All flesh is hay:

Thus think and smoke tobacco.

The pipe so lily-like and weak,

Does thus thy mortal state bespeak:

Thou art e'en such,

Gone with a touch.

Thus think, and smoke tobacco.

And when the smoke ascends on high,
Then thou behold'st the vanity

Of worldly stuff,

Gone with a puff.

Thus think, and smoke tobacco.

And when the pipe grows foul within,
Think on thy soul defiled with sin;
For then the fire

It does require.

Thus think, and smoke tobacco.

And see'st the ashes cast away:

Then to thyself thou mayest say,
That to the dust

Return thou must.

Thus think, and smoke tobacco.

The foregoing is a slightly-altered version of a song which was first printed in 1672, in "Two Broadsides against Tobacco." The author is unknown. The following is the original copy:

THE Indian weed withered quite,

Green at noon, cut down at night,
Shows thy decay,—

All flesh is hay: