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From place to place, but cannot rest

For seeing countries newe;
Declaring still the power of him,
Whereas he comes or goes,
And of all things done in the east,
Since Christ his death, he showes.

The world he hath still compast round
And seene those nations strange,
That hearing of the name of Christ,
Their idol gods doe change:

To whom he hath told wondrous thinges

Of time forepast, and gone,

And to the princes of the worlde

Declares his cause of moane:

And yeild his mortal breath;




Desiring still to be dissolv'd,

But, if the Lord hath thus decreed,
He shall not yet see death.

For neither lookes he old nor young,
But as he did those times,


When Christ did suffer on the crosse
For mortall sinners crimes.

He hath past through many a foreigne place,
Arabia, Egypt, Africa,


Grecia, Syria, and great Thrace,

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With many a German towne;

And now in Flanders, as tis thought,

He wandreth up and downe:


Where learned men with him conferre
Of those his lingering dayes,
And wonder much to heare him tell
His journeyes, and his wayes.

If people give this Jew an almes,
The most that he will take
Is not above a groat a time:

Which he, for Jesus' sake,
Will kindlye give unto the poore,
And thereof make no spare,
Affirming still that Jesus Christ
Of him hath dailye care.

He ne'er was seene to laugh nor smile,
But weepe and make great moane;
Lamenting still his miseries,

And dayes forepast and gone:
If he heare any one blaspheme,
Or take God's name in vaine,
He telles them that they crucifie
Their Saviour Christe againe.

If you had seene his death, saith he,
As these mine eyes have done,

Ten thousand thousand times would yee

His torments think upon :

And suffer for his sake all paine

Of torments, and all woes.

These are his wordes and eke his life

Whereas he comes or goes.

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S found in a very scarce miscellany intitled "Davison's Poems, or a poeticall Rapsodie divided into sixe books . . . The 4th impression newly corrected and augmented, and put into a forme more pleasing to the reader. Lond. 1621, 12mo." This poem is reported to have been written by its celebrated author the night before his execution, Oct. 29, 1618. But this must be a mistake, for there were at least two editions of Davison's poems before that time, one in 1608,* the other in 1611. So that unless this poem was an after-insertion in the 4th edit. it must have been written long before the death of Sir Walter: perhaps it was composed soon after his condemnation in 1603. See Oldys's Life of Sir W. Raleigh, p. 173, fol.

[Hallam asserted that this favourite poem had been ascribed to Raleigh without evidence and without probability. Ritson affirmed that F. Davison was the author, and Ellis supported the claims of Joshua Sylvester, but Dr. Hannah has proved conclusively that it was really written by Raleigh. It was certainly composed before 1608, and probably about the period of its author's marriage and his consequent imprisonment in the Tower. Dr. Hannah has brought together a large amount of illustrative evidence in his interesting edition of the Courtly Poets (1872), and he shows that the answerers of the poem attributed it to Raleigh. One of the answers commences as follows


Go, echo of the mind, a careless truth protest;

Make answer that rude Rawly no stomach can digest."

He also draws attention to a transcript of the poem among the Chetham MSS., made not long after Raleigh's death, and signed "Wa. Raleigh."

In that remarkable book, Sylvester's Remains, printed at the end of the translation of Du Bartas, 1641, The Soules Errand is inserted with some poor additional verses.]

* Catalog. of T. Rawlinson, 1727.

t Cat. of Sion coll. library. This is either lost or mislaid.

Our blessed ladyes psalter

Zhall for my money goe;

Zuch pretty prayers, as there bee*,
The bible cannot zhowe.


Nowe hast thou spoken trulye,
For in that book indeede
No mention of our lady,

Or Romish saint we read :
For by the blessed Spirit
That book indited was,
And not by simple persons,
As was the foolish masse.


Cham' zure they were not voolishe
That made the masse, che trowe;
Why, man, 'tis all in Latine,

And vools no Latine knowe.

Were not our fathers wise men,

And they did like it well;

Who very much rejoyced
To heare the zacring bell?2


But many kinges and prophets,

As I may say to thee,

Have wisht the light that you have,
And could it never see:
For what art thou the better
A Latin song to heare,
And understandest nothing,
That they sing in the quiere?






* Probably alluding to the illuminated Psalters, Missals, &c. 2 the sacring bell was rung to give notice of the elevation of the host.]

[1 I am.

Tell zeale, it lacks devotion;
Tell love it is but lust;
Tell time, it is but motion;
Tell flesh, it is but dust;
And wish them not reply,
For thou must give the lye.

Tell age, it daily wasteth;
Tell honour, how it alters;
Tell beauty, how she blasteth;
Tell favour, how she falters;
And as they shall reply,
Give each of them the lye.

Tell wit, how much it wrangles

In tickle points of nicenesse; Tell wisedome, she entangles Herselfe in over-wisenesse; And if they do reply,

Straight give them both the lye.

Tell physicke of her boldnesse;

Tell skill, it is pretension;

Tell charity of coldness;

Tell law, it is contention;

And as they yield reply,
So give them still the lye.

Tell fortune of her blindnesse;
Tell nature of decay;

Tell friendship of unkindnesse;
Tell justice of delay:

And if they dare reply,
Then give them all the lye.

Tell arts, they have no soundnesse,

But vary by esteeming ;







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