Sidor som bilder


'goe backe againe, Douglas!" he sayd, "and I will goe in thy companye,

for sudden sicknesse yonder Lady has tane, and euer, alas, shee will but dye!

"if ought come to yonder Ladye but good, then blamed fore that I shall bee, because a banished man I am,

and driuen out of my owne countrye.”

come on, come on, my Lord," he sayes, "and lett all such talking bee; theres Ladyes enow in Lough Leuen,

and for to cheere yonder gay Ladye.”


"and you will not goe your selfe, my Lord,
you will lett my chamberlaine
wee shall now take our boate againe,
and soone wee shall ouertake thee."




with me;


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for to beguile thousands such as you and mee."


When they had sayled fifty myle,

now fifty mile vpon the sea,

hee had fforgotten a message that hee

shold doe in lough Leuen trulye:


hee asked 'how ffar it was to that shooting, that William Douglas promised me.'

now faire words makes fooles faine;

and that may be seene by thy Master and thee,


ffor you may happen think itt soone enoughe when-euer you that shooting see.”

Jamye pulled his hatt now ouer his browe;
I wott the teares fell in his eye;


and he is to his Master againe,

and ffor to tell him the veretye:

he sayes, "fayre words makes fooles faine, and that may be seene by you and mee,


ffor wee may happen thinke itt soone enoughe when-euer wee that shooting see

"hold vpp thy head, Jamye," the Erle sayd,

"and neuer lett thy hart fayle thee;

he did itt but to prove thee with,

and see how thow wold take with death trulye."

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and sayd, "Douglas what wilt thou doe with mee?”

"looke that your brydle be wight, my Lord,

that you may goe as a shipp att sea;
looke that your spurres be bright and sharpe,
that you may pricke her while sheele awaye."

"what needeth this, Douglas," he sayth.

"that thou needest to ffloute mee?

for I was counted a horsseman good
before that euer I mett with thee.





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HIS excellent philosophical song appears to have been famous in the sixteenth century. It is quoted by Ben Jonson in his play of Every Man out of his Humour, first acted in 1599, act i. sc. 1, where an impatient

person says

"I am no such pil'd cynique to believe
That beggery is the onely happinesse,

Or, with a number of these patient fooles,
To sing, My minde to me a kingdome is,'

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When the lanke hungrie belly barkes for foode."

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It is here chiefly printed from a thin quarto Music book, intitled, "Psalmes, Sonets, and Songs of sadnes and pietie, made into Musicke of five parts: &c. By William Byrd, one of the Gent. of the Queenes Majesties honorable Chappell.-Printed by Thomas East, &c." 4to. no date: but Ames in his Typog. has mentioned another edit. of the same book, dated 1588, which I take to have been later than this.

Some improvements and an additional stanza (sc. the 5th), were had from two other ancient copies; one of them in black letter in the Pepys Collection, thus inscribed, "A sweet and pleasant sonet, intitled, My Minde to me a Kingdom is.' To the tune of, In Crete, &c."

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Some of the stanzas in this poem were printed by Byrd separate from the rest: they are here given in what seemed the most natural order.

[The longest and apparently earliest version of this favourite poem is signed "E. Dier," in MS. Rawl. Poet. 85, fol. 17 in the Bodleian Library, and Dr. Hannah* attributes it to Sir Edward Dyer, the friend of Spenser and Sidney, whose little pieces were chiefly printed in England's Helicon. Sir Edward Dyer, of Sharpham Park, Somersetshire, was born about the year 1540. He was educated at Oxford, and afterwards was employed in several embassies. On the death of Sir John Wolley he was made Chancellor of the Order of the Garter, and at the same time knighted. was an alchemist and dupe of Dr. Dee and Edward Kelly. Egerton Brydges quotes from Aubrey the statement that he had four thousand pounds a year, and had fourscore thousand pounds left to him, which he wasted almost all, but Sir Egerton considers the sums almost incredible fr the time.



In "Posthumi or Sylvesters Remains, revived out of the ashes of that silver-tongued translatour and divine Poet Laureat,” at the end of the translation of the Divine Weekes of Du Bartas, 1641, there is the following parody of this favourite poem:


"I waigh not Fortunes frowne or smile,
I joy not much in earthly joyes,

I seeke not state, I reake not stile,

I am not fond of fancies Toyes:

I rest so pleased with what I have,

I wish no more, no more I crave.

* [The Courtly Poets, from Raleigh to Montrose. Edited by J. Hannah, D.C.L., London, 1870. (Aldine Poets.)]

"I quake not at the Thunders crack,
I tremble not at noise of warre,
I swound not at the newes of wrack,
I shrink not at a Blazing Starre;

I feare not losse, I hope not gaine,
I envie none, I none disdaine.
"I see ambition never pleas'd,
I see some Tantals starv'd in store,
I see golds dropsie seldome eas'd,
I see even Midas gape for more:
I neither want, nor yet abound,
Enough's a feast, content is crown'd.
"I faine not friendship where I hate,
I fawne not on the great (in show)
I prize, I praise a meane estate,
Neither too lofty nor too low:

This, this is all my choice, my cheere,
A minde content, a conscience cleere."]

Y minde to me a kingdome is;
Such perfect joy therein I finde
As farre exceeds all earthly blisse,
That God or Nature hath assignde:

Though much I want, that most would have,
Yet still my mind forbids to crave.

Content I live, this is my stay;

I seek no more than may suffice:
I presse to beare no haughtie sway;
Look what I lack my mind supplies.
Loe! thus I triumph like a king,
Content with that my mind doth bring.

I see how plentie surfets oft,

And hastie clymbers soonest fall: I see that such as sit aloft

Mishap doth threaten most of all:



These get with toile, and keep with feare:
Such cares my mind could never beare.

No princely pompe, nor welthie store,
No force to winne the victorie,
No wylie wit to salve a sore,

No shape to winne a lovers eye;
To none of these I yeeld as thrall,
For why my mind despiseth all.

Some have too much, yet still they crave,
I little have, yet seek no more:
They are but poore, tho' much they have;
And I am rich with little store:

They poor, I rich; they beg, I give;
They lacke, I lend; they pine, I live.

I laugh not at anothers losse,

I grudge not at anothers gaine;
No worldly wave my mind can tosse,
I brooke that is anothers bane:
I feare no foe, nor fawne on friend;
I lothe not life, nor dread mine end.

I joy not in no earthly blisse;

I weigh not Cresus' welth a straw; For care, I care not what it is;

I feare not fortunes fatall law: My mind is such as may not move For beautie bright or force of love.

I wish but what I have at will;

I wander not to seeke for more,

I like the plaine, I clime no hill;
In greatest stormes I sitte on shore,
And laugh at them that toile in vaine
To get what must be lost againe.





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