XII.

This beautiful poem, which is perhaps the first attempt at pastoral writing in our language, is preserved among the "Songs and Sonnettes" of the Earl of Surrey, &c. 4to, in that part of the collection, which consists of pieces by "Uncertain Auctours." These poems were first published in 1557, ten years after that accomplished nobleman fell a victim to the tyranny of Henry VIII, but it is presumed most of them were composed before the death of Sir Thomas Wyatt in 1541. See Surrey's Poems, 4to, fol. 19,

49.

Though written perhaps near half a century before the "Shepherd's Calendar," this will be found far superior to any of those Eclogues, in natural unaffected sentiments, in simplicity of style, in easy flow of versification, and all other beauties of pastoral poetry. Spenser ought to have profited more by so excellent a model.

PHYLIDA was a faire mayde,

As fresh as any flowre;

Whom Harpalus the Herdman prayde

To be his paramour.

Harpalus, and eke Corin,

But makes thy griefe her game.

5

Were herdmen both yfere :

As easy it were for to convert

And Phylida could twist and spinne,

The frost into 'a' flame;

And thereto sing full clere.

As for to turne a frowarde hert,

How often would she flowers twine?

The palm of pastoral poesy is here contested by a contemporary writer with the author of the foregoing. The critics will judge of their respective merits; but must make some allowance for the preceding ballad, which is given simply, as it stands in the old editions: whereas this, which follows, has been revised and amended throughout by Allan Ramsay, from whose "Ever-Green," Vol. I. it is here chiefly printed. The curious Reader may however compare it with the more original copy, printed among "Ancient Scottish Poems, from the MS. of George Bannatyne, 1568, Edinb. 1770, 12mo." Mr. Robert Henryson (to whom we are indebted for this Poem) appears to so much advantage among the writers of eclogue, that we are sorry we can give little other account of him besides what is contained in the following eloge, written by W. Dunbar, a Scottish poet, who lived about the middle of the 16th century:

"In Dumferling, he [Death] hath tane Broun, With gude Mr. Robert Henryson."

Indeed some little further insight into the history of this Scottish bard is gained from the title prefixed to some of his poems preserved in the British Museum; viz. "The morall Fabillis of Esop compylit be Maister Robert Henrisoun, Scolmaister of Dumfermling, 1571." Harleian MSS. 3865. §. 1.

In Ramsay's "Ever-Green," Vol. I. whence the above distich is extracted, are preserved two other little Doric pieces by Henryson; the one intitled "The Lyon and the Mouse;" the other "The Garment of Gude Ladyis." Some other of his Poems may be seen in the "Ancient Scottish Poems printed from Bannatyne's MS." above referred to.

ROBIN sat on the gude grene hill,
Keipand a flock of fie,

Quhen mirry Makyne said him till,

My dule in dern bot giff thou dill,
Doubtless but dreid Ill die."

Robin replied, Now by the rude,
Naithing of luve I knaw,

But keip my sheip undir yon wod:
Lo quhair they raik on raw.

Ver. 19, Bannatyne's MS. reads as above, heynd, no keynd, as in the Edinb. edit. 1770. V 21, So that no danger. Bannatyne's MS.

The scene of this beautiful old ballad is laid near Walsingham, in Norfolk, where was anciently an image of the Virgin Mary, famous over all Europe for the numerous pilgrimages made to it, and the great riches it possessed. Erasmus has given a very exact and humorous description of the superstitions practised there in his time. (See his account of the Virgo Parathalassia," in his colloquy, intitled, "Peregrinatio Religionis Ergo." He tells us, the rich offerings in silver, gold, and precious stones, that were there shewn him, were incredible, there being scarce a person of any note in England, but what some time or other paid a visit, or sent a present to "Our Lady of Walsingham." At the disso

See at the end of this Ballad an account of the annual offerings of the Earls of Northumberland.

lution of the monasteries in 1538, this splendid image, with another from Ipswich, was carried to Chelsea, and there burnt in the presence of commissioners; who, we trust, did not burn the jewels and the finery.

This poem is printed from a copy in the editor's folio MS. which had greatly suffered by the hand of time; but vestiges of several of the lines remaining some conjectural supplements have been attempted, which, for greater exactness, are in this one ballad distinguished by italics.

Ver. 99, Bannatyne's MS. has woid, not woud, as in E 1770. V. 117, Bannatyne's MS. reads above feill, n faill, as in Ed. 1770.

I am not what I seeme to bee,

My clothes and sexe doe differ farr.

I am a woman, woe is me!

Born to greeffe and irksome care.

For my beloved, and well-beloved,
My wayward cruelty could kill:
And though my teares will nought avail,
Most dearely I bewail him stil!.

He was the flower of noble wights,
None ever more sincere colde bee;
Of comely mien and shape hee was,
And tenderlye hee loved mee.

When thus I saw he loved me well,
I grewe so proud his paine to see,
That I, who did not know myselfe,
Thought scorne of such a youth as hee.

And grew soe coy and nice to please,
As women's lookes are often soe,
He might not kisse, nor hand forsooth,
Unlesse I willed him soe to doe.

20

20

Three of the following stanzas have been finely paraphrased by Dr. Goldsmith, in his charming ballad of "Edwin and Emma;" the reader of taste will have a pleasure in comparing them with the original.

'And' still I try'd each fickle art,
Importunate and vain;

And while his passion touch'd my heart,

I triumph'd in his pain.

'Till quite dejected with my scorn

He left me to my pride;

And sought a solitude forlorn,

La secret, where he dv'd.

Thus being wearyed with delayeз

To see I pittyed not his greeffe, He gott him to a secrett place,

And there he dyed without releefle.
And for his sake these weeds I weare,
And sacrifice my tender age;
And every day Ile begg my bread,
To undergo this pilgrimage.

Thus every day I fast and pray,
And ever will doe till I dye;
And gett me to some secrett place,
For soe did hee, and soe will I.

Now, gentle heardsman, aske no more,
But keepe my secretts I thee pray :
Unto the towne of Walsingham

Show me the right and readye way.

"Now goe thy wayes, and God before!
For he must ever guide thee still:
Turne downe that dale, the right hand path,
And soe, faire pilgrim, fare thee well!"

To show what constant tribute was paid to "Our Lady of Walsingham," I shall give a few extracts from the "Houshold-Book of Henry Algernon Percy, 5th Earl of Northumberland." Printed 1770, 8vo.

Sect. XLIII. page 337, &c.

ITEM, My Lorde usith yerly to send afor Michaelmas for his Lordschip's Offerynge to our Lady of Walsyngeham.-iiij d.

ITEM, My Lorde usith ande accustumyth to sende yerely for the upholdynge of the Light of Wax which his Lordschip fyndith birnynge yerly befor our Lady of Walsyngham, contenynge aj lb. of Wax in it after vij d. ob. for the fyndynge of every lb. redy wrought by a covenaunt maid with the Channon by great, for the hole yere, for the fyndinge of the said Lyght byrnning.- vi s. viiij d. ITEM, My Lord usith and accustomith to syende yerely to the Channon that kepith the Light before our Lady of Walsyngham, for his reward for the hole yere, for kepynge of the said Light, lightynge of it at all service tymes dayly thorowt the yere,xij d.

ITEM, My Lord usith and accustomyth yerely to send to the Prest that kepith the Light, lyghtynge of it at all service tymes daily thorowt the yere,iij s. iiij d.

But mine the sorrow, mine the fault
And well my life shall pay;
I'll seek the solitude he sought,
And stretch me where he lay.

And there forlorn despairing hui,
I'll lay me down and cie:
'Twas so for ine that Edwin (4,
Aul so for him wil à.

XV.

Was a story of great fame among our ancestors. The author of the "Art of English Poesie," 1589, 4to. seems to speak of it as a real fact.-Describing that vicious mode of speech, which the Greeks called ACYRON, i. e. "When we use a dark and obscure word, utterly repugnant to that we should express;" he adds, "Such manner of uncouth speech did the Tanner of Tamworth use to king Edward the Fourth; which Tanner, having a great while mistaken him, and used very broad talke with him, at length perceiving by his traine that it was the king, was afraide he should be punished for it, [and] said thus, with a certain rude repentance,

con

"I hope I shall be hanged to-morrow, "for [I feare me] I shall be hanged; whereat the king laughed a good*, not only to see the Tanner's vaine feare, but also to heare his illshapen terme : and gave him for recompence of his good sport, the inheritance of Plumpton-parke. 'I am afraid,' cludes this sagacious writer, "the poets of our times that speake more finely and correctedly, will come too short of such a reward,'" p. 214.-The phrase here referred to, is not found in this ballad at present, but occurs with some variation in another old poem, intitled "John the Reeve," described in the following volume, (see the Preface to "the King and the Miller,") viz. :

"Nay, sayd John, by Gods grace,
And Edward wer in this place,

Hee shold not touch this tonne :
He wold be wroth with John I hope,
Thereffore I beshrew the soupe,

That in his mouth shold come." Pt. 2. st. 24. The following text is selected (with such other corrections as occurred) from two copies in black letter. The one in the Bodleyan library, intitled, "merrie, pleasant, and delectable historie betweene King Edward the Fourth, and a Tanner of Tamworth, &c. printed at London, by John Danter, 1596." This copy, ancient as it now is, appears to have been modernized and altered at the time it was published; and many vestiges of the more ancient readings were recovered from another copy, (though more recently printed,) in one sheet folio, without date, in the Pepys collection.

But these are both very inferior in point of antiquity to the old Ballad of "The King and the Barker," reprinted with other "Pieces of Ancient Popular Poetry from Authentic Manuscripts, and old Printed Copies, &c. Lond. 1791, 8vo. As that very antique Poem had never occurred to the Editor of the Reliques, till he saw it in the above collection, he now refers the curious Reader to it, as an imperfect and incorrect copy of the old original Ballad.

In summer time, when leaves grow greene,
And blossoms bedecke the tree,
King Edward wolde a hunting ryde,
Some pastime for to see.

↑ Va. Gloss.

No in that of the Barker mentioned below.