No mo the amblynge palfrie and the horne Shall from the leffel 16 rouze the foxe awaie; 25 I'll feke the forefte alle the lyve-longe daie ; Alle nete amenge the gravde chirche 17 glebe wyll goe, And to the paffante fpryghtes lecture mie taleof woe. [JUGA.] Whan mokie 19 cloudes do hange upon the leme Of leden 20 moon, ynn fylver mantels dyghte; 30 The tryppeynge faeries weve the golden dreme Of felynefs, whyche flyethe with the nyghte; Thenne (butte the feynêtes forbydde!) gif to a fpryghte Syrr Rychardes forme ys lyped, I'll holde dyf traughte Hys bledeynge clai-colde corfe, and die eche daie yn thoughte. ELINOURE. 35 Ah woe bementynge wordes; what wordes can fhewe! Thou limed 22 ryver, on thie linche 23 mai bleede Champyons, whofe bloude wylle wythe thie waterres flowe, 16 in a confined sense, a bush or hedge, though sometimes And Redborne ftreeme be Rudborne freeme indeede! Haite, gentle juga, trippe ytte oere the meade, To knowe, or wheder wee mufte waile agayne, Or wythe oure fallen kayghtes be menged onne the plain. Soe faieing, lyke twa levyn-blasted trees, Or twain of cloudes that holdeth flormie raine; Theie moved gentle o'ere the dewie mees24, 45 To where feynote Albons holie fhrynes remayne. There dyd theye finde that bothe their knyghtes were fleyne; Diftraughte 25 theie wandered to fwollen Rudborne's fyde, Yelled theyre leathalle knelle, fonke in the waves, and dyde. SONGE TO ELLA, LORDE OF THE CASTEL OF BRYSTOWE YNNE DAIES OF YORE. BY THE SAME. OH thou, orr what remaynes of thee, Ælla, the darlynge of futurity, 24 meads.' 25 diftracted. This little gloffary is pecuHarly Chattertons own, many of the words it explains being vented by himflf. Lett thys mie fonge bolde as thie courage be, Whanne Dacya's fonnes, whofe hayres of bloude redde hue 5 Lyche kynge-cuppes braftynge wythe the mor ning due, Arraung'd ynne dreare arraie, Upponne the lethale daie, Spredde farre and wyde onne Watchets shore; Than dyddft thou furioufe ftande, And bie thie valyante hande Beefprengedd all the mees wythe gore. Drawne bie thyne anlace felle, Downe to the depthe of helle Oh thou, whereer (thie bones att refte) JO 20 Whetherr upponne the bloude-embrewedd pleyne, Orr whare thou kennst fromm farre The dyfmall crye of warre, Orr feeft fomme mountayne made of corfe of fleyne; Orr feeft the hatchedd stede, 25 And neighe to be amenged the poynetedd fpeeres; Orr fierye round the mynfterr glare; 35 BRISTOWE TRAGEDIE: OR THE DETHE OF SYR CHARLES BAWDIN.* BY THE SAME. THE featherd fongfter chaunticleer Han wounde hys bugle horne, And tolde the earlie villager The commynge of the morne : * This poem feems to have been occafioned by fome account the author had met with of the death of fir Baldwin Fulford of Fulford in the county of Devon, a zealous partizan of the boufe of Lancaster, who was beheaded at Bristol in 1461, the first year of king Edward IV. William Canyng being then mayor, and one of the commissioners at his trial. Kynge Edwarde fawe the ruddie ftreakes Of lyghte eclypfe the greie; And herde the raven's crokynge throte "Thou'rt ryght," quod hee, " for, by the godde "That fyttes enthron'd on hyghe ! "Charles Bawdin, and hys fellowes twaine, "To-daie fhall furelie die." Then wythe a jugge of nappy ale Hys knyghtes dydd onne hymm waite ; "Goe tell the traytour, thatt to-daie "Hee leaves thys mortall ftate." Syr Canterlone thenne bendedd lowe, And to fyr Charles dydd goe. But whenne hee came, hys children twaine, Wythe brinie tears dydd wett the floore, 10 15 20 "O good fyr Charles !" fayd Canterlone, 25 "Badde tydyngs I doe brynge." |