Though poor and bare, yet she was deem'd
The fairest on the ground:

Where when the king her virtues heard,
And this fair lady seen,
With full consent of all his court
He made his wife and queen.
Her father king Leir this while
With his two daughters staid:
Forgetful of their promis'd loves,
Full soon the same decay'd;
And living in queen Ragan's court,
The eldest of the twain,

She took from him his chiefest means,
And most of all his train.

For whereas twenty men were wont

To wait with bended knee:

She gave allowance but to ten,

And after scarce to three;

Nay, one she thought too much for him;

So took she all away,

In hope that in her court, good king,

He would no longer stay.

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I'll go unto my Gonorell :

My second child, I know, Will be more kind and pitiful, And will relieve my woe.

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Full fast he hies then to her court;
Where when she heard his moan

Return'd him answer, That she griev'd,
That all his means were gone:
But no way could relieve his wants;
Yet if that he would stay
Within her kitchen, he should have

What scullions gave away.

When he had heard, with bitter tears,
He made his answer then;

In what I did let me be made

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Where when he came, she gave command

To drive him thence away:

When he was well within her court

(She said) he would not stay.

Then back again to Gonorell
The woeful king did hie,

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That in her kitchen he might have
What scullion boys set by.

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But there of that he was deny'd,
Which she had promis'd late :
For once refusing, he should not
Come after to her gate.
Thus twixt his daughters, for relief
He wandered up and down;
Being glad to feed on beggars food,
That lately wore a crown.

And calling to remembrance then
His youngest daughters words,
That said the duty of a child

Was all that love affords :
But doubting to repair to her,
Whom he had banish'd so,

Grew frantick mad; for in his mind
He bore the wounds of woe:

Which made him rend his milk-white locks,
And tresses from his head,

And all with blood bestain his cheeks,

With age and honour spread.

To hills and woods and watry founts

He made his hourly moan,

Till hills and woods, and sensless things,
Did seem to sigh and groan.

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Even thus possest with discontents,
He passed o're to France,

In hopes from fair Cordelia there,

To find some gentler chance;

Most virtuous dame! which when she heard

Of this her father's grief,

As duty bound, she quickly sent

Him comfort and relief :

And by a train of noble peers,
In brave and gallant sort,
She gave in charge he should be brought
To Aganippus' court ;

Whose royal king, with noble mind

So freely gave consent,

To muster up his knights at arms,

To fame and courage bent.

And so to England came with speed,
To repossesse king Leir,

And drive his daughters from their thrones

By his Cordelia dear.

Where she, true-hearted noble queen,

Was in the battel slain;

Yet he good king, in his old days,
Possest his crown again.

But when he heard Cordelia's death,
Who died indeed for love

Of her dear father, in whose cause

She did this battle move;

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He swooning fell upon her breast,
From whence he never parted :

But on her bosom left his life,

That was so truly hearted.

The lords and nobles when they saw
The end of these events,

The other sisters unto death

They doomed by consents;
And being dead, their crowns they left
Unto the next of kin:

Thus have you seen the fall of pride,
And disobedient sin.

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XVI.

YOUTH AND AGE,

-is found in the little collection of Shakspeare's Sonnets, entitled the Passionate Pilgrime, the great⚫est part of which seems to relate to the amours of Venus and Adonis, being little effusions of fancy, probably written while he was composing his larger Poem on that subject. The following seems intended for the mouth of Venus, weighing the comparative merits of youthful Adonis and aged Vulcan. In the

* Mentioned above, song xi. b. ii