i' V Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2015 https://archive.org/details/legendofmaryqueeOOwennn lief enti of Mav^, ©uem of S>cot0, AND OTHER ANCIENT POEMS; NOW FIRST PVBLISHED FROM 31S.S\ OF THE SIXTEENTH CENTVRY. WITH AN INTRQDVCTION, NOTES, AND AV APPENDIX. ^11 rtiat nehie, anu eiter no cm, Because it fsf fai^e ana tf)e otoe i'^ true, ^et tfjem t^?^ bohe reao ami be^iolne, iFoc it preftrretf) learngriffe mo^t otoe, cmgaam comparison bettoen^ t{)e olDe feamgnge ann t^e netr 16mo, 1338. ilotttion X PRINTED FOR LONGMAN, HfRST, REES, AND ORME. PATERNOSTER-ROW. ' BOSTON COLLEGE LIBRART rnESTKUT HILL, MASS, E. . Prmter 1/ t?- TO THOMAS LEE, ESQVIRE, OF GRAYS INN^ THE FOLLOWING PAGES, AS A TESTIMONY OF SINCERE ESTEEM^ ARE MOST RESPECTFVLLY INSCRIBED BY HIS OBLIGED AND THE EDITOR. Kingsdown, July 14, 1810. 2 fntiotiuctton. ^' We redyn oftc, and fjnd y 'write, *• As clerkes don us to wyte, The layes that ben of harpying " Ben y founde of frely thing ; " Sum ben of wele, and sum of wo " And sum of joy, and merthe also, Sum of bourdys, and sum of rybaudry, " And sum ther ben of the feyre ; Sum of trechery, and sum of gyle. And sum of happes that fallen by Avhile." Sir Orpiieo. Herken, lordynges, that trewe ben And y wol you telle of Marie Queue." In an age so honourably marked by affection for the artless la^^s of our forefathers^ when every species of research is entered upon by the votaries of antiquity^ for the purpose of rescuing from obscurity and neglect some portion of that litera- ture, which once instructed and delighted our a3 VI. INTRODUCTION. progenitors^ and;, when our antiquaries are sedu- lously engaged in marking the characteristics of ages that are gone by ; it is hoped^ the present attempt to redeem from shelves of dust/' some- thing that might, however feebly, contribute to the extension of the already numerous and splendid list of Elizabethan Poets, and to imp " New feathers to the broken wings of time." may not be deemed intrusive presumption, but, rather as a disinterested wish to assist the cause of Literature. It is only within the last half century that any particular attention has been given to the writing of our elder Bards ; Pope appears to have diligently perused' them, and he has transplanted many a choice nosegay from their parterres, into his own tasteful, though meretricious garden. This should have contented him, but no, he blasted his own memory for ever, hy a fruitless and inju- dicious attack upon those flowers whence he had pilfered sweets, and by an illiberal satire upon INTRODUCTION, lliose men, who wisficd to revive what he chose to style All such reading as was never read."' He wished indeed^ it is evident^ That ^\\ such reading never sJiould be read." The authority of a high name, for a time_, awed tiie enquirer into silence ; but the present age have discerned the true origin of his public antipatiiy ; thev have already stripped the daw of many a borrowed plume ; and ere another century elapseSj the genius of Pope^ will like the baseless fabric of a vision^ Leave not a rack behind." with the multitude, he must ever remain a favourite,, from the melody of his versification; but the chosen few will hesitate to enrol him among the makers. The general prevalence of enquiry which now subsists, may be justly attributed to the exertions of a man, who united with the facinating blan- Ylii. INTRODUCTION. disliments of genius, an elegant and fanciful taste^, and a judgment^ at once intuitively correct. I need scarcely add a name which will ever shine one of the brightest ornaments of the eighteenth century Thomas Warton. The publication of his History of Poetry^ shed a brilliant radiance over an untrodden path^ and acted as a spur to others^ who would otherwise have remained supine^ to follow and emulate their enterprising leader. The result has been such as the most sanguine expectation could desire ; nearly all the poetical treasures of the Elizabethan era^ are now familiar to the reader^ all the sublimity^ the magnificence, the heroism,, the imagery^ and the varied charms of the age are unfolded to our sight ; surely it can require but little examination to decide that the latter half of the sixteenth century was the period of England's greatness. The heart swells with rapture at the idea^ that one female reign con- tained the greatest Poets, Heroes, Statesmen, Phi- losophers, and A^ arriors that any nation ever produced in the same portion of time — We now see the germ of many a poetic thought, which our INTRODUCTION. ix. cliiklhood has been accustomed to admire in Spenser, in Shakspere, in Milton, and in Drjden ; we trace the gradual progression of the human intellect from barbarism to refinement, and dis- cover with mingled sensations of wonder and de- light that genius is confined to no one period, never was this latter position more fully evinced, than in the wonderfully sublime Induction of Lord Buckhurst, (Baldwin's My r our for Alagis^ t rates). What a grandeur of sentiment, what an exquisite combination of personification and imagery does it not present. Well might Warton say that it exhibits a groupe of imaginary per- sonages, so beautifully drawn, that in all pro- bability, they contributed to direct, at least to stimulate, Spenser's imagination in the con- struction of the like representation. Thus much may be truly said, that Sackville's Induction ' ' approaches nearer to the Faerie Queen^ in the richness of allegorick description, than any / previous or succeeding poem." (Remarks on Spenser.) But does not the prior appearance of the In- INTRODUCTION. duction give it an adventitious interest far su- perior to Spenser^ at least it appears to me in that liglit ; with all niy admiration for the Faerie Queen^ an admiration x^losely bordering upon enthusiasm^ I must confess the former always inspires me with more delight^ and I will venture to believe^ that if Sackville had never Strung the lyre, And sung in raptur'd strains,*' we should not at this moment be able to boast possession of the Faerie Queen, But my ra^mbling pen loses itself m this delightful wilderness^ and I must endeavour to retrace my steps to the purport of the present Introduction. The progress of the Censura Literaria^ con- ducted bj Sir Egerton Brydges^ a work of valua- ble and recondite materials,, the fruit of much honorable research^ may be said to have materially assisted the liberal cause of enquiry. How gratify- ing must it be to observe the representative of a noble and ancient family^ thus rise superior to the Circean witcheries of modern fashionable life. INTRODUCTION. xi. Dcforme existiraans, [quos dignitate praestar^t^ ab iis yirtute superari." Valeriax. signalize liimelf in labours,, which must ever re- main a monument of praiseworthy industry^ and endear his name (a name which will not be ranked among those Homines de quorum vita siletur.") to future antiquaries. I will now proceed to notice cursorily^ the two principal pieces in the following collection^ of which the Legend of the beautiful^ accom- plishedj yet ill-fated Queen of Scotia^ demands previous consideration. First J of its Author. — Which is a knotty pointy impracticable of resolve^ except by conjee, ture^ a path wherein the wisest are too often apt to bewilder themselves. The evidence however, if evidence it may be termed^ is strong in favor of Thomas Wenman^ whom Wood has styled an excellent scholar^ and able enough to honour the world with the issue of his brain^ yet he xii. INTRODUCTION. would leave nothing behind him in writing, because that whatsoever he had left would have fallen short of his perfections ; inasmuch " as the best part of an Orator dies with him/" Now if the scribe (in part) of the manuscript be the same as the one registered by honest Anthony^ and^ which I see no reason to doubt^ it appears that he did leave something behind him in writing/' which after slumbering quietly for two centuries^ I have presumed to drag forth into public notice^ in order to prove whether " the best part of an orator dies with him/' The memo- rials of his life are few^ and that little is all to be found in Wood's Ath. Ox. He took his degree of M. A. Feb. 19, 1590, was afterwards Fellow of Balliol College and Public Orator of the Univer- sity of Oxford, 159 i. In 1616, he seems to have belonged to the Inner Temple, as in that year he contributed commendatory verses to the second part of Browne's Britannia's Pastorals, which are about to be reprinted. Secondly, of its merit ; the only sure criterioo INTRODUCTION. xiii. to judge of which^ is a comparison with its pre- cursor and model the Myrour for Magistrates ; a work which Bishop Hall has characterized in the following' lines^ although we must recollect that he was a Satjrist. Another whose more heavy-harted saint Delights in nought but notes of rueful plaint, Urgeth his melting muse with solemn tears Rhyme of some dreary fates of luckless peers. Then brings he up some branded-whining ghost. To tell how old misfortunes had him tost. Then must he ban the guiltless fates above, ^' Or fortune frail, or unrewarded love. And when he hath parbrak'd his grieved mind, ^* He sends him down where erst he did him find. Without one penny to pay Chirons hire, That waitest for the wand'ring ghosts retire." Warton has pronounced the writers to have been without the pathos, which the subject so naturally suggests. Thej give us^ jet often with no common degree of elegance and per- spicuity, the chronicles of Hall and Fabian in verse/' and Mister Haslewood that ^'their muse came forth strait-laced by History. Facts^ and not fancy, produced the materials for XIV. INTRODUCTION. genius to plod over ; hence the chronicles were often berhymed with little claim to the character of poetry beyond the metre^ being unadorned with the flowers of imagination."* If I am not misled in entertaining too favoura- ble an opinion of a work which has been for some months the amusement of my leisure^ the Legend^ now first published^ may claim a higher rank^ and although it certainly does at times travel on clog- ged by historic facts^ yet there are stanzas dis- playing a power of versification^, without being straitlaced by history/' which combine elegance with fancv. Of the general correctness and impartiality of the writer I cannot speak too highly^ almost the whole of his deductions are supported by a reference to the classical historian of Scotland ; in one in- ^j^«e(stanza \ i^ related a proposition made by Murray to Mary, which I searched for in vain in Doctor Robi^vtson ; by mere accident I disco- ^^he opinions of V/arton and Ilasle^vood must not be t^' ' StipiKJSed to include Sackyille and Churcbyarde. INTRODUCTION. Xt- vered a corroboration in Daljell's Life of Mun aj, \yhichl have extracted in a note (p. 103.) this will place in a strong light the political informa- tion of the author, be he whom he may. I have already in the course of the notes cau- tioned the reader as to one instance in which the Author is not to be tmsted, the detail of Eliza- beth's conduct upon^ and after^ Mary's flight into England ; the only apology that can be made is, that as the work was obviously intended for insertion in the ISIyrour during her life-time^ it could neither be politic nor safe to reprobate her detestable conduct in the strong manner it so justly deserved. If I in some degree lose my temper when I speak of the bloody tragedy which fol- lowed^ the reader will excuse my warmth ; it is impossible to be calm at the contemplation of such unparalleled conduct ; my hand trembles when I write that Elizabeth, as we now know^ in 1572, entered into a negociation for deliver- ing up Mary, on positive condition that she should he put to death by her Scottish subjects; Lord Mar, then Regent, rejected the proposal INTRODUCTION. with horror; and the matter was quashed/' Pinkerton [Maitland's Poems, p. 426. J To offer a refuge to her kinswoman, the heir to her throne, and then basely imprison her for eighteen years with a savage and malignant cruelty, and not content with thus much ; in defiance of every principle of human nature, of every law human or divine, basely to murder this most beautiful, accomplished and unoffending Queen, was such a refinement upon inhumanity, that the pen which marks the deed seems to write in letters of blood the name of Elizabeth, compared with whom her sister was a pure character. We may well say of the execution of the hapless Scottish Queen. * Tlie character of Mary ^vas held in Teneration Tery early in Spain ; Lope de Vega, wrote Corona Tragica Vida y Muerte de la Reyna de Escocia, Maria Estuardo. Poema dividido en 5 Libros," which " during his life attracted more notice and secured him more praise" than any of his works. Holland's Ltfe of Lope de Vega^ p. 87. Pope Urban wrote him a letter in answer to a " dication of his Poem, in favour of Mary, Queen of Scots^ intitled Corona Tragica, de Maria Stuardo." INTRODUCTION. xvii Ncquc senatui, neque populo, neque cuiquam bono probatur." Cic. To those who adduce as a vindication of the damning act, policy on the part of Elizabeth ; I will answer in the emphatic words of a lamented patriot, What is morally wrong can never BE POLITICALLY RIGHT. One peculiarity in the Legend of Mary/' I cannot refrain from remarking, a peculiarity which is indeed common to the whole of the Myrour for Magistrates, its alliteration, a few instances shall suffice. P. 5. — To cleare my case, or to the ^rueth to sounde Whose restles life a Aaples race Aathe runne As fittest ^hearae ^hie wovihXe witt could ^ake b Dillon's Letters on Spanish Poetry, 8vo. 1781. I am rather surprised at not seeing this latter work quoted by Lord Holland ; the copy which I have extracted from, was the author's interleaved one, with his numerous M. S. ad- ditions and corrections, to which I have had access in the library of a friend of distinguished literary acquirements. I should observe that in Lope's poem, Elizabeth is spoken of in terms that she really, in this one instance, deserved ; a bloody Jezebel, a second Athaliah, an obdurate sphynx, and the incestuous progeny of a harpy. xviii INTRODUCTION. 7. — As /riffcls to the /hinges I haye to teU 8. — Whose /icarse /^cncefo^th ^hall ihroude me ^afe from ^liame j The two opening lines will enable us to ascer- tain^ with some degree of precision^ the period when it was written. Baldwin awake, thie penn hath slept to longe ; Ferris is dead ; state cares stay Sackville's ease. 1 Of the ''^ Lamentation of a Sinner/' the dis- tinguishing feature will be found its varied > strangeness of orthography ; for instance^ in the course of three stanzas, grief will be found grivefe, greve, grjfe, greefe, grefe, grifFe, grjlFe alliterations are also numerous. I have now to acknowlege any obligations I may have been under in the course of the work ; and first my thanks are due to Mister Fryer, for the use of the Wenman M.S., to the publication of which, at my request he acceded ; to another kind friend who transcribed for me the three pieces in pages 147, 9, 150, and to a correspond- ent in the Gents. Mag. for a reference to Wood. ' If I have occupied too many pages with ex- tracts from Doctor Robertson, it has been because INTRODUCTION. xix Malcolm Laing, docs not 'hesitate to pronounce** him one of the most faithful of historians/* To conclude ; I earnestly hope that the pre- sent work, undertaken amidst other most pressing avocations, and continued during a period of lassitude, and ill-health, although it does not equal the wishes of the Editor, may be received^ and judged of with candour, and should its pub- lication from purely disinterested motives, meet with the approbation of the public, I may pro- bably be induced to republish more of our elder poetry. Kingsdown^ July 13, 1810. J. F. %f)t iegenli of 0{m^, (Bum Of gjcotlanti* n. Cover theire secret vices. 2. Mildely interprete theire Doubtfull faultes. 3. With patience beare theire knowen evills, prouttieD That they doe not by them bringe vtter destruccon to the comon v^ealthe. In the lives of princes we shoulde alv^^ayes B f (Sueen of §)COtlana^ I. ^BalUtopn awake^ thie penn hath slept to longe ; is dead ; state cares staie ^^Cfebtll'SS ease ; Theise latter witts delighte in pleasant songe^ Or lovinge layes wch maie theire mrs please^ My ruthfull state breeds no remorse in theise^ For as my liffe was still opreste by fate^ So after Deathe my name semes out of date. II I marvaile not they creditt corfion fame^ Whichespeakes the worste^ best things are seldome tolde^ And in some sorte I guiltye am of blame ; Yet manie lavishe tounges are ouerbolde. As I coulde proue^, if pleade my cause I woulde. But since my Dome hathe ransomd gilt of sinn;, It semes to late this speache now to beginn, B 2 4 €\jt iLegeuO of iBarj), III. Yet sithe ingratefall tyme is gro\ven so slacke, In settinge forthe a sheilde for my Defect e^ And now the knightes of former ages lacke^ Who Ennocents and orphanes should protecte ; It weare my shame yf I shoulde it neclecte^ For silence scholemen saye consente dothe prove. Whiche to this taske^ me now perforce doethe move. IV. For thoLighe ray facte weare founde in trueth so badd As foes reporte^ and haue some likelye shewe^ Yet on the dead some pittye shoulde be had^, Or on my Sex, or royall bloud thow know ; But wth the tide, the worlde doe lightly rowe ; In swiftest channell is the shallowest grounde^ In comon ruth a trueth is seldome founde. V. Yet do I muse that they of better minde, Who cane dis^cerne and iudge of good and ilL Do.sliewe themselues so farr vnkinde. To leave my name so muche defamed still. For if they feard my deeds condemne me will. They shoulde by arte contend to hide my faulte, \ slighte defence expel Is a weake assaulte. ©ueeu of g)cate. 6 VI But so vnliappie is a princes state, That scarse of tliowsandes wch on them depend. One shalbe founde vntill it be to late^ That soundest trueth shall in theire councell lende. But all theire vajnest humors will defende. Till we alas ! do beare the gilt of all^ And thej themselues do saue^ what ere befall. VII. Some thinke greate difficulties wilbe founde. And that it dothe require no comon braine^ To clearc my case, or to the trueth to sounde, Wch makes the moste I thinke the same refraine. And those wch coulde, for feare concealde re- majne ; For naked trueth is seld a welcome guest. And he that feeds the time, tjme pleaseth best. — VIII. But ^allltopn since thou haue the course begone ? To register the plaints that Princes make. Whose restles life a haples race hathe runne. As fittest theame thie worthie witt coulde take ; I praje thee once againe thie penn awake. And sitt thee downe in mournfull blacke to write, Theruthfull haps that on a wretche did lighte. B 3 6 c^e iLegenO of jHarp. IX. Be not agaste to see a goste arise. And shewe it self apparaunt in tliie sighte. It is a trueth^ or wrighters it devise. That Brutus, Caesar sawe appeare by nighte. Before he shoulde the fatall battaile fighte. To somon him to Deathe wch shoulde insue, A Just revenge for traitrous murther due ; X. To suche a foe was suche a message fitt ; But to a friende I come in milder weede. Like to my self in Royal 1 robe I sitt, A ladye faire ; a Queene whose wounds do bleed. To see Despighte on my reproche to feede. Who beinge dead maye not be cleane forgot. Nor haue the honor due to me by lot. XI. Thow shalt not neede to forge by skillfull arte, Suche wordes or deeds as maic pruve my mone. My life on stage hathe plaied eche private parte. That maye expresse a tragedye alone. Able to drawe teares out of marble stone. And painte at full the power of fortunes spighte. Whose malice moste on highest state do lighte Oueen of greats. 7 XII. I will not sliewe thee howe my bodie lyes A senceles corps by ouerhastned Deathe In sliroudinge sheete in graues deformed guise Wthclodds ofclaye in mouthe to stopp my breathe^ For all mankinde so muche to nature oweth^ And of those ills wch did to me befall^ I houlde these thinges to be the least of all^ XIII. Neither will I thy trauaile amplifye^ To striue to quitt me cleane from ill deserte^ The minde wearebad that wouldea truethe denye ; My faults I graunte^ and sorrowe w^h my harte^ Yet since of gilt I haue sustaind the smarte^ I mighte bemone the hap befalne to me. That in my graue must still accused be. XIV. But these my greifs I smother to my selfe^ As triffels to the thinges I haue to tell^ The losse of life, or kingdome, is but pelfe^ And who is wise will beare them verye well ; My greater harmes the lesser do expell. These make me morne, those wishe I thee to wrighte. And let the faults vppon the guiltye lighte^ — . s €j)e HegenD of iWarp, XV. Parte will befall I kiiowe vnto my share. For who lives free from all reporte of blame^ To beare the brunte whereof I do prepare. Whose hearse henceforth shall shroude me safe from shame ; Onelje do thow thie stile vprightlje frame. To laye thinges open vnto others eyes. As I shall it in-forme and thee advise : XVI. Feare not to finde my tale a partiall thinge, A Storye shoulde I knowe affection shvnn, Flatterye or feare cane me no profite bring e, Wth me therefore theire motions now are done. Nor by respecte of them fewe ever woone. But for my self best knowes my owne mishapp, A heape of hidden harmes I will vnlapp. XVII And that thou maie more livelier behoulde Eche private prancke that skittishe fortune plaied, I muste befaine my noble birth vnfolde, Wch beinge true, may voied of pride be staled. And true it is, ne cane it be denayed. That from descente of manye a mightie kinge On either side my pettigree did springe. 9 XVIII. > My Father barUe the Scottishe crowne to weare^ Whose Mother was seventh Englishe Henries childe ; On Charlemajne whom all the worlde did feare My Mothers kyn theirLorraine Crowne do builde^ And challenge Fraunce althoughe they weare be- guild ; So ofte they speed who to aspire pretende^ But rashe attempts expecte no other ende. XIX. But fatall was my (3ui}idLXi kinge to me^ Who builte theire hope on hazarde of my blodd. Like Ivy they did clime vp by my tree^ And starude my growth in manye a likely budd ; Theire ouer kindenes did me littell good^ Whose clyminge stepps of theire vnbrideled minde Makes me alas ! to blame them as vnkinde. XX. So maye my Father if he tell a trueth. Impute some cause of this vnhappie end ^ And those mishaps wch to his childe insueth, Vnto the helpe and counsaile they did lend^ Who gaue his courage quarrels to pretend Againste our neighbour kings for whom of righte^ Our interest of bloud shoulde wishe us fighte. 10 €\)t ILegenlr of iWarp, XXI. And as in greate callamities we finde Foreruninge stormes and haps wth evill threat^ And do prepare a patience in the minde^ Wch maie to God for some release intreate^ Who readje is to heare in mercje seate. So did the wise obserue my time of birthe. To be a daje of mourninge not of mirthe : XXII. For deathe depriude two brothers wch I had^ Bothe in a daje not longe eare I was borne^ So that a mourninge weede my cradle clad^ And parents weare wth sorrowe bothe forlorne To see harde fortune gan their J oyes to skorne. To shewe a face of yeldinge theire desire^ And straighte againe all hope from them retire : XXIII. They had no soner waynde theire minds from woe^ And framde by sighte of me a new contente^ But straighte (alas my lose) we muste forgoe My Father, who to g^alOtolTtOS was bente, Wch coste him deare, and made vs all lamente ; My wofull Mother thus of him berefte. An orphane childe of eighte daies ould was lefte, ©ueen of g^cote, ii XXIV. A gre\ ous chaunce it is to meanest sorte To leave a Widdowe in a forraine lande^ A childe whose yeares cannot her self support, A suckinge babe who cane ne speake ne stande. But muste depende vppon a tutors hande ; But greatest mischeif is it to a Kinge, Then wch no hap cane greater hazard bringe. XXV. Ill to the prince^ but^ to the people worse, Wch geveth meanes to the ambitious mindes. By rapin to enritche theire greedye purse. By wrack of cofhon weale, whiles yet they blinde The peoples eyes, and shewes themselues vnkinde. To pupil princes whom they doe accuse. As cause of suche disorders they do vse. XXVI. And doe but note thou in my tender age ? Before my eares weare apte for good or ill. What cause I had to curse vile fortunes rage. Who gan so sone to worke on me her will. Whom ever since she hathe pursued still ; Makinge those thinges wch promise greatest blys^ My onely bane, so muche her malice is. 12 Cte iLegenO of iMarp, XXVII For what maye man wth reasone moste require^ Or God bestowe by free aboundinge grace^ What fortune lende, or people moste admux^ That in my youthe I did it all imbrace, Vnles perhaps religion had not place^ Wch chieflye shoulde indeed ordeine the best^ Howmuche the more they woulde excell the reste. XXVIII. My parents had prepared crownes for me_, Nature bestowed a stampe of comelye frame^ IPallaiJS a spirite that mighte instructed be^ Fortune suche friends as coulde advance mv name. Had I but knowen howe well to \ se the same ; But God it is that did theise gifts bestowe^ He raiseth vp, and plucketh downe^ Ave knowe. XXIX Thus was I left a sillye harmeless lambe ; To be a praye to fortune and despighte. Who coulde not see mishaps before they came^ Or rid myself of them when they did lighte^ Ne booteth it gainste Gods decree to ^ghtey Who meane in me a triall thus to make^ How I corrections at his hande would take. (Sueeu of §>cotS- 13 XXX My faults weare great^ great was his wrath there- fore, * Wch of his love a token I accounte. My sinns he scourged,, he laied not vp in store. His wathefull rode till gilte did more surmounte, Herin I tasted of his mercies founte. Who did not geue the raigne vnto my will^ V\ ch was by natures lawe inclined to ill. XXXI. We maie not counte for cruell or vnkinde, The surgeon or phisitian who dothe vse To cauterize our wounds, if we doe finde By sequel of the same that ease insues. For God in providence suche meanes dothe chuse, As best agreeth vnto our disease ; Who coulde vs cure more mildlye if he please. XXXII. Some for exsample sente to other men. Some for the sinns of other, suffer smarte. When moste he smiles, hees not best pleased then. His children haue on earthe the w orser parte, Wch is the chefest comforte of my harte. That fatherlike he shewed on me his care. My soule thereby the better to prepare. 14 ei)e iLegenH of iHarp, XXXIII. But this excuseth not the faulte of suche As shoulde haue guided me and kingedome to^ Whiles priuate quarrells make eche other grutche They all agree vs bothe for to vndoe^, Ambicon drives them forwarde therevnto. Pride, wrathe, and lust_, and greedines of minde. The finest witts we see doe often blinde. XXXIV. As to my state of yeares in deeds agreed. And costome of all kingedomes dothe require. To chuse a Regent it was then decreed, Wch was begining of intestine fire. Some nerenes of theire kindred do pretende. Some will the countrye righte and churche defende, XXXV. At last Duke Hamelton he was proferd. For manye vertues wch in him abounde. In choise of whom I gesse they little erd. And vnto me I knowe his love was sounde. Who wente aboute to laie a constante grounde. For strength ninge of me^ and cuntrye state, mighte all forraine foes and strife abate. ©ueen of g^cote. 15 XXXVI. A marriadge was moued a wished thinge^ And promised they saie w^h solemne vowe, Twixte (Clltoairtl^, Prince of Englande, after Kinge, Sixte of that name^, wch all men did allowe^ And had bene happye for our aspiringe nowe^ But God had not decreed that waye my good. For Cardinalls and clergie it wthstoode. XXXVII. They feared suche alliaunce mighte be cause To alter forme of churche, as England had. And woulde reduce the realme fromRomaine lawes, Reforminge things wch weare in trueth to bad, Wch to prevent in fyne they thus weare glad, Devisinge to bestowe me out of hande. On suche a Prince as Englande mighte wthstande. XXXVIII. There neuer wanteth meanes to wi Hinge minde. There weare inow to further this intente. By Cardinalls advise, a waye the finde, Vnto a mach wth Fraunce, theire minds to bend. Who for assistaunce thither quicklye send ; Wherewth the Kinge full sone they did agree. That I shoulde to the Dolphin wedded be. 16 ci)e ILepnD of i»arp, XXXIX. And to appease theire mindes that gaue consenfe. To English match perfermente they bestowe ; The wch weare boughte wth Hues of manie spente. In JHUSSitlbOtCftD feilde, when warrs did growe^ Twixte Scotts & English e^ as the world doth knowe^ But did suffice to bringe theire wills to passe^ And breake the purpose wch for England was. XL. A match indeed more fitt for me by farr^ And soughteby suche as wishd bothe countries ease^ Wch mighte vnite bothe Realmes in on^ and warrs Mighte haue an end^ by everlastinge peace,, By wch wthall all former foes mighte sease^ ^ And mighte renue the anciente ^nitllS fame, \\ ho to this He gaue firste the Brittaine name. XLI. The weddinge daie is roote of weale or woe, The dice weare caste, and I was wonne & loste, St was decreed to Fraunce that I muste goe, yVch iourney me since that hathe dearely coste ; Thus to & fro I sillye w retche was toste. And made thinstrumente of either side, Turmoilde wth stormes of wilful! winde and tide. (Bum of §)C0t5. 17 XLII But I suppose the moste did thinke it best, Suche swaje wth them my Mother's side did beare^ They strake the stroke, and swaid aboue the rest. Who thought my matche might them to honor reare. If to the crowne of Fraunce I married weare, Wch as they wisht, they did procure indeede. So greedelye on glorye princes feede — . XLIII. The Frenche, the anciente foes to Englishe Ile^ Whereby to ope themselues a readye waye To spoile thereof, our Scottishe witts beguile. Whiles we consente our neighbours to betraye. For true it is wch prouerbe old doth saie. When neighbours house in raginge fire dothe burne, Thow arte not safe but nexte wilbe thie turne. XLIV. They alwaies haue I graunte our freindshipp sought. And we imbraced it full manye a yeare. But we maye counte theire friendshipp dearely bought. And sarud to strenthen them as niaye appeare. And as I thinke this question maye be cleare. That they maye helpe our quarrells to defend. But Englande mighte the cause of quarrells end, c 18 €j)e HegenD of iHarp, XLV, Well — sent I was into the courte of Fraiincc^ Where I ere longe became the Dolphins wife. Whose Father's deatheto crowne didvs advaunc(\ By blowe of launce wch shortelye cost his life, Wch was but ominus of further striffe. For scarselje sixtene monethes my Lorde did raigne. When Deathe depriud me of my joye againe. XLVI. And in the space of my abode abroade^ Did manye trobles growe in Scottishe lande. The mightier on weaker sorte they trode. And one anothers rule did still wthstande^ Till I my proper title toke in hande. The Regente was full faine his roome resigne W ch to my Mothers chardge befell in fine. XLVII. And that I maye reporte the true evente. To bothe estats, while I in Fraunce remaynd, Wth Guise's packe the game so kindelye wente. That bothe my Unckles thereby chieflye gaind. For to that end they had me thither traind. The Cardinall of Lorraine bare the pursse. The Duke of Guise the civill warrs did nurse. ©ueen of ^cote* 19 XLVIII. And did decree as wises Scotts did saie^ That Fraunce shoulde seke a colonye to make Of Scotlande^ for they gan to make a prave Of Comon wealthe^ and rule one them to take^ Wch causd the harts of cofhon sorts to quake^ But kindled in the minds of noblest blodd^ A courage that theire purpose soone wthstood. XLIX. Well to efFecte, they presentelye procurde Assistaunce out of Englande^ w^h was prest To worke all meanes whereby to be assurde^ That suche a foe shoulde not so neare them rest^ For loue and empire maie no peers digest,, The best reformd likewise of either lande^ Weare readie this theire setlinge to wthstande. L. This meanes it pleased God in prouidence^ To vse a mightier worke for to effecte^ The Frenche perforce they weare expeld from thence^ And forraine armes our Scottishe peers reiecte^ God did his planted churche from foes protecte. And minds to Truth moste difFerente vnite For countrye and religion bothe to fighte. c 2 20 Ci)e legena of iHarp, LI. Duringe \ych time of troubles^ and of warr, Mv Mother dyed in >vhom reposd my truste^ The Scotts, and Englishe, Avho before did jai\ A new accord of freindshipp settle nmste, Eche other to aide in course iuste or yniuste^ The drift whereof, was, as reporte dothe tell. Me, & my heires, from crowne & right to expel! . LII A harde decree againste theire Souaigne prince^ W ho neuer had as yet offended them, Wth suche like measure haue they sarud me since, AVhose harte theis theire vnkindnes muche did mame. For God this cruell purpose did disclaime ; For when they heard that once my kinge was dead. The himior vanisht wtJ) theire mallice fed. LIII. But if suche weare the garrisons intente, Wch out of Fraunce did, into Scotland, saile. If theire prefer m^ wdi my Mother mente. Was purposed my native soile to quaile, God was most iuste whoe made theire purposf^ faile, I innocente althoughe my name was vsd, Mv yeares & sex mighte easelye be abusd. iSueen of g)COte. 21 LIV. A. woman wedded to a forraine kinge^ A childe when I was firste from home covayed^, ^^^ ho to my Mother had referd the thinge^ And duety wild^ beleue whater they saied^ My Mother she had cause if thinges be wayed^, Vppon advise of frenchemen to relye^ But trusted councellors ofte doe tread awrye. LV. So that you see vppon how slighte a cause. They readye weare to reave me of my righte/ And wch was more againste all humaine lawes, Vnto my of springe to extende theire spighte ; But God againste theire purpose semde to lighte. And in the instant^ whilste it was in hande, Theire councell brake, and purpose did wthstande. LVI And now begane my hover inge harme approche. When hidden fate shoulde haue her full effecte. In Scotlande now newe broiles weare set abroche. And open flames did smothered hate detecte. My freindes at home did my retourne expecte. So did I thirste the swaye of rule to beare. But litle knew c theire cares, that crownes do weare. 28 €1)0 JLegenD of iHarp, LVII Like to the fruicts wch by ©fliinotta growe^ Dothe honour seme to be a heavenlje thinge. They beinge tucht are dust of golden shewe ; Crow nes trewlye wayed doe heavye troubles bringe. The honye bee is armd wth hidden stinge^ Scepters are waightye things for female strength^ And swords in infants hands^ maye hurte at length. LVIII. Yet do the wise desire to plucke the rose^ Because his smell and coullor dothe delighte^ Wthout regarde of thornes mongest wch he growes^ We gather him wth safetye by foresighte^ Thoughehardelyecanthemightye shvn despighte. For envies seed is so wen by vertues plante^ And highe attempts did neuer malice wante, LIX. Thus saield I home to countrye most vnkinde^ Wtb better hast then speed as you maye gesse. My welcome was accordinge to my minde^ ho soughte all meanes my subiects to redresse^ And rulde by iustice as my foes confesse, A mirrour vnto princes rounde aboute^ And staye to peoples mindes to for in doubte. m mm of ^tm. 23 LX. I had not longe my wished crowne possest^ To subiects ioje^ and to my owne contente^ But that wth over waighte of cares opprest^ I did resolue wth all my states consente. By marryed life the daunger to prevente^ \V ch mighte ensue^ for wante of lawfull heire^ Succeedeiuge mee„ the Scottish crowne to weave, LXI. I coulde not wante be sure^ a proffered matche,, When once my minde was but in parte bewrayed. At suche a praye^ eche prince & peare^ would snatche ; For there was cause it cannot be denayed. If bewtye, witt, or youthe^ of worthe be saied, Wch was adorned wth a double crowne, Wth manye guifts of fortune wayed downe. LXII. Of manye forreyne princes was I soughte. By Swethen, and by worthie Danishe kinge^ The prince of Spaine woulde gladly haue me caught. The brother to be [the J emperourwisht thethinge. And Englande wente aboute a matche to bringe Twixte me and Robte Earle of Lecester, W ch forraine wedlocks daunger mighte debarr. 24 tegenli of jWarp, LXIII. The Queene my cozin^ of the En^lishe Ile^ Did francklye offer pore on vnto me. Of 30000 crownes by yeare the while^ To staye my state^ wch mighte impaired be^ If onely I from straungers bedd weare free^ And in this He wth likinge choise did make^ And all the other offers cleane forsake. LXIV. Whiche counsel!, I wth kindenes did accepte. As willinge to advaunce bothe countries good. And freed my self from marriadge longe lime kcpte. And all the suits of forreyners w^hstoode, Indevowringe to finde of Scottishe bloudd Suche one that mighte my neighbour countrye please. And future titles in this Isle appease. LXV. Amonge the rest, whom fortune offered me, JLortre 2r)arnlpe seemed the man of best deserte. So that my thoughts did sone consente that he. His baits of love shoulde harbour in my harte. It coste him deare I graunte vnto my smarte. By bothe our faults wch bothe to late repente. The harmes he had weare not my firste intente. <@ueeu Df ^toti. 25 LXVI. Chaste weare mj thought s^, & far from spousall bedd;, When chaimce firste offered me his comely sighte, All charmed notes of love my fancie fedd^ In peace and iustice was my wholle delighte^ A conflicte of affeccons yet did lighte^ W hen by firste sighte of him^ I was his praye^ And violentlye transported cleane awaye. LXVII. In heaven^ they saie^ are weddings firste decreed, Althoughe on earthe they are solemnized ; Some furye^ or some heavenlye rage indeed^ Did make me hast to this my fatall bed_, For on no other thoughtes my fancye fed. From firste, I sawe this new arriued guest (Pore Didoes bane) but lodgd him in my breste. LXVIII. He seemed in cache degree sente from aboue To please my fancye, and my neighbours mindc. To stale the striffe wch other sutors move. And bringethe blisse my subiects soughte to finde. And as I thoughte a league of loue to binde Twixte the Scotts and Englishe euermore. And so it seemed the Englishe thoughte tofore. 26 cri)e HegenD of i«arp. LXIX. But when I was so farr thereof resolude That now to late it was for to reclaime^ Mj neighbours labourd to haue it disolude. And scmde niy choise of him soraw hat to blame» Striving'e my setled fancye newe to frame^ Wch had it not bene late now to redresse. Perhaps I should haue soughte for to suppresse. LXX. So moste ynhappie is a princes state^ ho muste haue leaste respecte themselves to ease ; jBarde of the rig^te^ men haue of meaner state^ Whose choise is chiefe theire minde and ejes to please ; No outwarde pompe cane inwarde griefe appease^ A shepheards life, wth calme contents of minde. Is greater blisse then manje princes finde. LXXI. I am.e not wi Hinge to reporte the worste Of those w t^ii did mislike of this my choise. For even mv nearest friendes, they weare ye firste That raisde a brute amonge the comon noise. And reason gaue some colour to the voice. That as the Kinge did Churche of Rome affecte. So he the trueth of gospell woulde reiecte. ^ (Sueen of ^cote. 27 LXXII. I will not saie they had not cause to feare^ And wisdome woulde them to prevente the same. But duety wild they shoulde from force forbeare. And reuerence theire sacred princes name, Vnto whose will;, theire thoughts should some- what frame. But other causes seemed there yet beside. Why they his purpose coulde not well abide. LXXIII. Since firste I had returned out of Fraunce, I allwaies vsed them as my freinds moste deare, I soughte all meanes theire states for to advaunce. And let them rule the realme as did appeare, Web nusled them in glorye, this is cleare, Wch theye to loose mighte feare by others grace. For honour woulde not yealde to anie place. LXXIV. He strengthened his parte by aide of those Who did indeed affecte the preached worde. When for theire chief they euer after chose. And soughte to stablishe doctrine by the sworde. By wch pretence I manye harmes incurd. But Doctors doubte if churche so should be built^ And guiltles blodd shoulde be so lightely spilte. 28 C{)e iegeixD of iHarp, LXXV. But for the present time my power prevailde^ And the exiled into Englande fled, Theire faction wth him for a while was quailde^ And all discords at home semd to be dead ; But, as it proued, theire wounde it inward bled. For as the change of times againe did swaje, Wth counter-buffe they did the same repaye. LXXVI. Wedded we weare wth greate triumphant ioye. To neighbours likinge and myne owne contente ; When scarse I had forgotten olde Annoye, And some fewe monethes wth blissful solas spenie. But fortune gan her favours to repente. And turnde her wheele on tip, whereon my place Was fixt, whose fall shoulde breed me more dis- grace. LXXVII. Yet doe I ioye, I her so constante founde. To geue vs time, till that a slip did growe Out of our stocke, whose \ ertues might abounde To cuntries blisse to wch or litFe we owe. And suehe a gem on vs shee did bestowe, Wherein our harmes \\th measure did exceed, A highe rewarde scemd to receaue indeed. ©ueeu of ^cots 29 LXXVIII. And for the wc^i I thincke my hap the more She did provoke to longe my dismall daie^ Ti]l that liis life of floy^ers had yealded store, Wch promise fruits of honor as they saie^ God graunte in safetye longe his life raaie staie^ That riper yeares maye yeelde a plentious cropp_, Of Issue wch do kingedomes vnderpropp. LXXIX. With suche like sawce she seasoninge life^, Not that she had remorse on me at all. But that suche change is to her nature rife. Who beinge blynde, at randall lets them fall. And ynto me theire swetenes was but smalle ; Whose sences still wth future feare opprest, Suche daintye dishes scarslye could disgest. LXXX But I will hast vnto the hatefull chaunce, Wch ouerthrewe my honor, life, and crowne. To thinke thereof my ghoste is in a traunce. And all my sences cleane are beaten downe. Here gan the Fats wth furious rage to frowne ; A house deuided, longe it cannot stande. And civill warrs bringes ruyn to a lande. 30 €]^e ilegenti of iHarp, LXXXI. Not civilly, huij vncivill warrs they weare Twixt man and wiffe^ w^h ielosye did breeds The scars whereof w^h spotted fame I beare^ But God defende deserts weare suche indeed ; A festred wounde if it be tuchte will bleed^ In sylence therefore I will muche conceale^ Lest my excuse do others faults reveale. LXXXII. But if my minde w^h was not growen so base. As Dauies yeares vnfit for ladies love. As fitt excuses mighte haue taken place. To quite vs bothe and inocents to prove. They had not nede suche forged rumours moue. As by the bludd of Rich kinge and me ; Thoughe albe shed cannot appeased be LXXXIII. Whose eares are open vnto eurie charme And will give faithe to Sicophants reporte. Whose curious heade delightes to seke his harme. Be he a Kinge of greater power & porte. Prose will him teache wth fire there is no sporfe, Thoughe he at first supposd to rule the same. At lengthe perforce it will breake forth in flame. (©ueen of g^cote. 31 LXXXIV And to encrease the Kings suspect the more. The credit wch the mmi wth me had gainde. By faithfull service well approude before. When I as yet a widdowe Queene remainde. And that for wisdome I him entertaynde Was cause at firste that I did him preferr, & of the hate wch manye did him beare. LXXXV He was my secretary e of state. And as became him^ wisht me to foresee The Daungers wch I mighte repente to late. If to the crowninge I did sone agree Of this my husbande, who the kinge would be. Whose rule was like for to eclips my power^ The greter woulde the lesser soone devour, LXXXVI. Not anie hate vnto the prince he had^ Not vnbeseminge loue to me he bare^ But feare of friendes wch this new couler clad. And wisdomes duetye wished vs beware. How for our selues a rod we doe prepare. Did make him loathe to put the sworde in hande. Of him who coulde not all attempts wthstande. 32 €!)e iLejjenli of iWarp, LXXXVII. And would it weare not trewe wch I reporte. Would God he had not bynne to younge of yeares. In knowledge rawe^ a kingedome to supporte^ To tractable as by efFecte appeares^ All wch to plainlye this their action cleares, Woulde God his fall had not the rewine made^ Of all my hopes wch herewth gane to \ade. LXXXVIII. There did w**» all besids hereto concurr^ Some priuate trust I did in him repose^ By whose advice I did proceed so farr As bred disdaine and rancor deep in those^ Who wth my Kinge in favour dailye rose^ For as they clyme^ whom princes do advaunce^ Each tounge will trip & envious eye will glauncfe^ LXXXIX. To be advaunced from a base estate. By vertue^ is indeed a happy thinge^ But who by fortune clymes will all men hate^ Vnles his liffe vnlookt for fruicts do bringe, Wherewth to cure the wounds of envies stinge^ But seldome-times is founde so wise a man. That gayninge honour well it governe can. \ (Sueen of g^coK. 33 xc. This was his wante, his thoughts did rest secure, Supposiuge still my grace coulde him protect. As thoughe the sommer season woulde endure^ And winters frost broughte not her colde efFecte^ Ne did there wante informers of suspecte^ Suche as sufficde to blowe the kindled fire And make him beare the brunte of princes ire. XCI. For whilst they banished in Englande weare^ And I indeuoringe by a Parliamt^ Theire full attaindure, wch they muche did feare. And all my friendes weare thereto firmelye bente^ They who weare well-informd how all things went. Did by the aide of friendes this practize laye, Theire presente mischief for a time to staie. XCII. They founde the frailtye of an open eare. The wch was lente wth lighte credulitye. And made the Kinge a causles thinge to feare ; For hardly e can mens passions trueth espie. And they resolude on muste it dearelye buye; In troubled waters fishe is soonest caughte. His life, my shame, theire libertye hathe bought. D 34 zl)t JLegenO of iBarp, XCIII. His yeares weave fittest for the prolog's parte. Wch \yih his bloiidd the same did rcpjesente. And manye weapons in his wounded harte Cut of his plainte & sute^, but vainlye spente ; His faults to cleare it is not my intente^ Saue that I woulde not interressed be, Wth suche suspectewherewth some slaundered me. XCIV. I woulde haue wisht some others had him stroke. And in a place more fiirther from my sighte^ Or for his righte arrayned, he had spoke^ Or for his deathe^ some other skuse had lig-hte^ But herein fortune thow hast shewed thie spighte. Who wth extremes^ dost exercise thie hands^ Wth whom deserts for reason neuer stands. xcv. A prince's presence shoulde a pardon be, A Ladie's sute shoulde move a manlye minde, Achildwive's chamber^ shoulde from bloudbcfree^ A Wife, by Husbande, shoulde not slaunder finde, All theis opposde themselues gainste humaine kinde ; So did the Foxe the silly Lambe beguile. So rage did reason^ rule^ and lawes exile. (Sueen of g^cots. 35 xcvi. Howe haynous these things mighte vnto one serae^ How harde for princes nature to digest I rather leave vnto the wise to deeme^ Then file my speache wth things I do detest^ By wordes my greif cannot be well exprest^ But this I knowe^ this mischief set abroche^ The tragicall events wch did approche. xcvn. The furye of a facte so vnexpecte^ The choice of time and place so farr vnfitt^ Wch they cache daie mighte easely affecte^ Not callinge me as wittnes vnto it^ Dothe proue that malice far did blinde theire witt. Els was it meante thereby^ me sone to frighte^ That daunger to me and my childe mighte lighte. xcvm. The trayne whereby they had my Lord allurde To condiscende to this outragious facte^ Was for that they by promise had assurde^ That only J?aup did breake theire compacte^ Who meante by parliament for to enact An interest of crowne in him alone^ When in theire harts suche meaninge there was non. 36 €|)e JLegenQ of iMaip, xcix. I quicklje knewe from whence this practize came. And soughte to salue the sore wch freshe did bleed . And wth the Kinge did so my matters frame. That he did see he was abusde indeed. By such as on ones rvine mente to feed. And thoughe full late, he did at laste descr} e Theire dangerous purpose, and did them defye. C. But in a moment whilest the Steele was hot. They did not ouerslipp to strike the stroke^ The exiles in the instante home weare got, Wch did theire former purpose cleane vncloke. But I theire secrete practize quicklye broke. And drewe suche to my lure, as brake the strength^ And all the rest weare banished at lengthe. CI. For since I sawe my safety was in doubte And that I was to weake them to resiste. To disvnite theire league I wente aboute. For cables crak like threeds when tliare vntwist ; I knewe in whom did moste theire staie consist. Him did I put in hope of former truste. For ofte the wise dissemble anger muste. aueen of ^coto. 37 CII. I will not saie mv hartc did not desire The meanes to let them knowe theire highe offencf So iiiste and fervente \Yas my kindled fire^ Thej beinge wise coulde lacke for no dispence^ Yet I was fajne to make a faire pretence^ And for a time when chaunce mighte offer make. Of some who woulde my quarrell u ndertake. cm. And as to worste desires dothe oft befall. No soner wished then behoulde at hande, A man of courage fit to fronte them all. Who late from banishemt did hap to lande. And how the matters wente did vnderstande. Whose forwarde speache all dilligence did vowe. For to effecte what ere I woulde alio we. CIV. JLO^ JSOt^torll was his name, vnhappye man^ Whom I consented in some thinges to vse. But not so farr as well some witnes cane. As his ambicon did my name abuse. And broughte to passe, I coulde ne will nor chuse, I soughte revenge on others head to bringe. But he did bende his plot againste the Kinge. D 3 ^8 arije HegeuD of iHarp, cv. For wlien of late in Fraimce he did remayne^ As one to curious his successe to knowe^ By sorcerers mouthe he harde he should attaine Vnto my favour^ wch so greate shoulde growe. That on him I my weddinge shoulde bestowe^, To trewe successe for suche a prophets gesse^ From Sathans aide in mariadge, God his blesse. CVI. The meanes also wdi fostered this his thoughte^ And made him bend his witts to sore so hye. Was by the offer wch to him was broughte^ By signed handes as they coulde not denye. Of suche my foes as did my plott espye^ And feard the Kinge shoulde one daie vengeance takCj On them since he theire cause did thus forsake. CVII. Well woulde to God so harde hap had not bene^ And former bloud had ransomde Kinge his life. But when that eyill haps do once begine^ The like^ or worse^ successiuely are rife^ Wch to avoide^ in vaine is wisdomes strife^ My pearles prince a parragon of men^ Was nexte in course who coulde resist them then. (Bmw of g^coto, 39 CVIII. A traitorus deathe by traine of po^yder laied^, Whilste he in bed bis heatheles bones did rest^ Was set one fire^ by suche as it convaied in dead of nighte, a time for treasons best^ When he and his wth slepe weare now opprest^ Then was his life bereft by cruell hande. By fire or otherwise fewe vnderstande. CIX. Howe ere it was by whosoeuers facte, The breache of peace betwixt is growen of late Our parted bed my loue wch somwhat slackt^ Some Lres shewed as myne impartinge hate. Conference wth my matche w^^h did ensue^ Makes moste suppose a false reporte for true. CX But let me tell a tale of likelye shewe^, Wch maie cleare or quallifye my faulty The Aucthors moste by deathe^ theire dome doe knowe^ In speakinge truethe therefore I neede not halte, I ame content some secrets heare thow shalte, Wth equall minds doe but the matter waie. And till thow here my minde^ thie Judgmt staie. €f)e JLegeiiO of iHarp, CXI. The worlde dothe knowe £0, ^mXltS, he was su- posde To be my Brother, and his coimtres freinde. In whom some peares and people muche reposd, Mhose course of life to cuntrve well did bende. And was thoiighte jfitt the kingdome should def- fende ; For who weare he that hathe a sworde in haude. In time of countries need that still will stande. CXII. And that theire deeds mave witnes what I saie. Remember but the traine they had preparde, ho had decreed by intaile the crowne to staie Vppon foure Stewards, mongest the wch hesharde. As firste to whom his worthe shoulde hit awarde ; Yet he perhaps from all ambicon free. Was drawen thereto bv churche & stats decree. CXIII. To make wch partie stronge a league did growe Twixt them and Bothwell, late before this chaunce^ Who was the man suspected moste in shewe ; Whom to mj bed ere longe thej did adyaunce, Bieringe mj eies whom thej led in a traunce. And made the state who shoulde susteine the blame. When thej themselues weare guiltje of the same. (Bxitm of g^cote, 41 CXIV. I craue no priviledge t6 shiclde my cause^ Let onely reasons ballance triall make^, A guiltles conscience needs not feare the lawes. To quite me of this cryme^ theis proffs then takcj And let the truethe the rage of malice slake. My waye mighte witnes well all bare suspecte. But liklihoode of thinges shall not protecte. cxv. Firste for the former three inforced crymes. All wch as fruits out of one roote did springe. Like discords hap in kindest loue oft time. Yet reconcilemt dothe new freindshipp bringe. And greater loue this is no vncouthe thinge. So that to graunte them all imports not muche, Theire trueth or falshood dothe me litle tuche ; CXVL The latter three do seme of more importe. But beinge wayed wth vnforestalled minde^ Will rather serue my cause for to supporte^ And make the sooner others malice finde, I therefore breiflye will them answeare all. And what I speake my foes they witnes shall. 42 < clje trgeuD of iMarj), CXVII. The Li es they sale for myne weare founde. To 50tl)rtDfll sente and counsellinge the facte^ Treatinge my loue to him thonelve grounde Of his so hastie speed to suche a facte. Men maye more iustlye deeme to be compacte^ By suche as had moste causes them to move. And fewer meanes to worke what did behoue. CXVIII. It stoode them well vppon to finde awaie To ridd a foe, whose power they well mighte feare, .They knowe theKinge did w^atche revenging daie, And 350tl)teU did them litle likinge beare. They knewe ambicon mighte his malice beare, Tliey knewe the hope of Kingedome, & of me, Woulde Wynne him to the Kinge's decaye agree. CXIX. To faine my hande to worke so greate effecte. They woulde not sticke to hauetheire lines assurde, Theire guilte likewise of crime, hands did deteckt, When signed bills of theires at first allurde 550tI)lDril thereto, and thereby him procurde, Wch if as counterfet they doe reiecte. Like ans weare maye wth resone me protecte. (Sueeu of g>cot£i. 43 CXX. And had I bene so far bewit elite wth sprighte^ To shed the bloud of suche a guiltles lambe, I CO aide haue causde some others sworde to lighte Vppon his heade^ or suche a potion frame^ As shouide haue rid his life^ & me of blame ; When presente rage of wronge did firste befall^, And chafed bloudd to freshe revenge did call. CXXI. Besids let's see what good I reapte at all By this his deathe^ that shouide incense me so^ Of 3S0tl)lDeirS love I had no neede at all. For gaine thereof in hazarde so to goe. More fitter meanes there mighte be founde you knowe. Then so to couer him with sinns increase. As lea-ves no hope of pardone, or release CXXII. Wheare they accuse me of to slighte regardc, Whoe neither mourned as became the case. Nor funerall rights accordingelye preparde. As did beseme the honour of our rase, I muste accuse the custome of the place. Where moste our ancestors themselues doe wante Due monumts^ theire memories to plante. 44 CJ)e iLegeiiii of iHarp, CXXIII. And yet suppose I saie what inaye be true^ That suddaine feare^ and terror of the facte, Care of my selfe_, and childe ; whom they pursued^ And wante of meanes to wante my will the lacke. It followes not they shoulde me then detracte^ As counsellor of suche a hatefuU thinge^^ As I did know must nedes my rvin bringe. CXXIV. As for the faulte I did in this comitt^ In marryinge one whose hande his bloud had staind^ I dr confes I guiltye am of it^ Thoughe I perforce firste in his power remaynd^ WLo my consent^ and Parliamt's obtained^ Yet when I sawe my lothsomc faulte therein^ By partinge from him did amends beginne. cxxv. And doe but note how well my shame did serue^ To raise them vp to that they did desire^ Who afterwarde at pleasure gan to carve^ In-forcinge me for safety to retire^ And in my troubles^ lefte me in the mire ; Then shall you see wch waies the hare did goe^ And by one halfe the rest maye quickly knowe. (©ueen of g)cot0. 45 CXXVI. Yea if events be proofe of good and ill. Whereby of truethes & falshoods men maye gesse. The guiltles bloud wch cursed they did spill. Did craue for vengeance, and did procure no les. When all of them did wished place possesse, )B0tI)to0ll full faine, for life to flye the lande. The other slaine by force, or iustice hande. CXXVII. And wch maye move the minde not obstinate. To houlde me innocent from this theire deed. It is for trueth reported but of late. That 3S0tl)lDell who in Denmarke had ill speed. In prison dyed, when sighinge harte did bleed. Whilst Heaven & Earth he did to witnes call. That I no knowledge had thereof at all. CXXVIII. Yet I from post to piller still was tost. Forsaken quite of those I moste did truste ; Who-so my cause did shielde, they allwaies loste. My Crowne or Life perforce forgoe I muste. For manye other faults Gods haue moste iuste. And I woulde faine amendemt now pretend. To these my troubles to procure an ende. 46 €i)e ttstnti of iWarp, CXXIX. But suche amends cannot appease the wrathe^ That God in mstice dothe on man impose. For loke howe muche of mercve store he hatha. For to extende vppon the steade of those. Whose heedfull stcpps the rightfull pathe hathe chose. Even so severe his iudgem* still is bente, Gainste hollow harts wch do not sinn repente. cxxx. A certaine feare indeed I felte of shame. Of guilte of sinne wch shoulde my life pursue. And meante a while another course to frame. To purge my fame, and credite to renue. But for my faults my soul did litle rue ; So harde it is to vertue to reclaime The minde where pride or malice geueth ayme. CXXXI Thus forced forwardc by a wilfull moode, I plyed my wits & friends most busily e To bleare the minds of suche as doubtful! stood. Or make them partners of my miserye In wrakinge those that did me iniurye. For so by links all vices do depende. That new beginnes whereas the olde do ende (Sueen of ^tot Whom I required my patrones to stande. Since I repaired for safetye to her lande. E 2 52 cije JLegeuD of i^arp. CXLVII. The princely minde wch did her thoughts posscssr^ Sone purchasd me the safetye I did craue. And heaped \p more succors I confesse Then suche vnkinde deserts of righte should haue. Wch to her vertues worthie witnes gaue^ And makes my tale lease pittye to expecte The more since I her kindenes did neglecte. CXLVIIL My sute did craue but libertye to Hue Exiled from those at home wch soughtemy bloud. Her bountye did extende further to give W^h life cache nedefullthinge wth callingestoode. And suche repaire of friendes as me semd good : Wch had I vsde as did a g-uest beseme, I had not bene a prisoner as I deeme, CXLIX. Bat winged w^h an ouer hight desire^ I couched poyson in my secret harte, AVhose minde begane to higher thinges aspier Tfien God as yet allotted to my parte^ Drawen therevnto by vSupSjfS holye arte^ Who by the shewe of Catholicks defence^ INIiide me expect from JPop0 eche sinns defence. iSuem Df g)COte* 53 CL. Small ])rovocalions served a willinge minde^ Easye it was to worke me to their will^ To further siiin so manye helps we finde. So prone we are to climbe againste the hill If honor or revenge our soule s do fill ; But woe is me I euer toke in hande That to decide I did not vnderstande. CLI Not Popishe Zeale nor holje league of STtCUt, No hate to Englande or to Scottishe soile. Was cause that I my witts and studye bente In bothe these Realmes to stir intestine broile^ And that mostekinde and gracious Queene tofoile. It was the thirste I had bothe crownes to weare. And from a Captiues state my self to reare. CLII. Well when I once had sipt this poysoned drafte, Wch pleasde my taste and fed my wilfull thoughte, I thoughte it longe till I my fill had quafte And gaynde the goale wch muste be dearely boughte ; Hope blearde myne eyes so that I feared naughte, Presentinge me wth store of meanes to worke;, The secrete plotts wch in my harte did lurke, £ 3 54 clje legenO of iHarp, CLIII. The lenitye wch towards me was vsd^ Vngratefull wighte^ by that moste gracious Dame^ x\rnide my deuises dailje — whoe abusde Wth sundrie charmes suche as beleued the same. Who manye cuiiinge slightes full well coulde frame ; Suche as did drawe full manye to my snare^ Whom I implored my practize to prepare. CLIV. Amofige the rest was firste wone to my lure. The j30rtl)Mfee 3Dufie that yealded to my drift. To whom my self as wifTe I did assure And promisde him to princelye throne to lifte^ W ho in the chase thereof was ouerswifte ; And left his heade for pawne vntill the time By better m.eanes he coulde devise to clime. CLV. Yet muste I saie I soughte not this his fall. His follye and theire fraude he maie accuse. That made him playe w^h suche a buble balle, Wch for to trye his lightenes they did vse ; And he to gredelye bitt on the baite. Not seinge what mishaps thereon did waight. ©ueeu of g)COt£;. 55 CLVI. Manie besids there weare of eache degree^ Wch fawnde vppon these goodlie shewes of mjne^ And made a lawe of what I woulde decree. And causles did againste theire prince repine ; Whoe weare discried aud punished in time : All wch for nie theire lives did offer vp, 111 sacrifice to fill my fatall cupp. CLVII. Thus fell theire rvin still on everye one. Who ever toke in hande my wronges defence; Who had bene happie had my self alone. For my misdeeds sustainde the recompence. And happie Englande had I bene from thence. Who in her bosome lapte the verye snake. Whence all her harmes theire dangerous roote did take. CLVIII. Thus towled on by tragicall intent. My restles minde to laste exploite did hast, Voide of regarde what mighte be thevente ; Wch Heavens decree mighte me alott at laste. In guerdon of so manye tresspasses paste ; For who to evill once his harte hathe bente. Cannot be sure of grace for to repente. 56 €lje ilegenlr of iJJarp, CLIX. <3ui5t who did laye theigs wch I shoulde hatche^ Some subiects hartes in England would not bend To treason^ nor his force no hould could catche To bringe to passe the thinge we did intend ; He therefore causd the ^Opt a pardon sende To suche as shoulde by violent stroke procure^ Hir deathe whose fall my risinge mighte assure. CLX. With wch devise weare led full manie a one^ Of malecontents of vaine or dotinge witts^ Who postinge are wth Tiborne tippets gone^ To be canonized as saints befitts ; For wrath e delayed will paye home when it hits. Its better few^e then manye wepe they saie, God hathe henkepte vnto a better daie. CLXI. Ne can I choose but muse that half this longe. That worthie Queene forbeare vengeance to take. Of suche outragious facts and open wronge. As in her realme she knewe men dailye make^ And as it seemd were raised for my sake ; For wth niy deathe theis mocons haue theire end. As wantinge now the marke whereto they bend. ©ueeu ot g)cote. 57 CLXII. So niarvell I that seirigc her defence To be from Heaven, wch did her life inclose, Thej gave not over theis attempts longe since, Bj wch I neuer wan but still did lose ; She alwaies gainde who did on God repose ; But in the mists of malice weare we led, Bj Popishe zeale wch was wth blindnes fed. CLXIII. At lengthe bj full consente of cofhon weale^ In Englishe Parliamt it was decreed. By cuttinge of a w ithred braunce to heale There bodje burdned w^h a fruitles weed, Wch was by her it touched moste indeed Wth stood by pittye wch coulde not take place^ Because it did concerne a comon case. CLXIV. Now was the time expirde God had assignde When Deathe and dollour shoulde my sinns re- warde, A guiltye thoughte did sommons to my minde A heape of heavenlye wrathe for me preparde. When tidinges of my dome was firste declarde ; Wch wth a shewe of courage I sustainde. When yet my soule in agonye remainde. 58 €lje IxQmti of iMarp, CLXV Thinke it not strange for now in deathe we sec The angrye face of God on man for sinn^ From feare whereof no mortall man is free, Ne shall, ne was, since worlde did firste begine ; Thoughe from eternall deathe Christe pardon wyn. In bodye yet we Adams badge do weare. And to appeare before God's throne doe feare. CLXVI. When as our Sauioiir in our flesh, was clad. To make amends for vs and beare our blame, Wth sighte of deathe his soule grewe greude & sad . And praied his father to remit the same, Wch from the feelinge of our frailtve came. His Godhead surely coulde no waye be greued. He willingely our miseryes releued. CLXVII. I therefore soughte escape by my appeale To forren Princes, Pope, and Emperour, In hope they woulde protecte the Cofhon weale Of sacred regall righte I helde to fore. For of relief I promises had store. But when alas ! it stoode my life vppon, I founde them faile and all my hope was gone. ©ueen of g^cote. 59 CLXVHI. To cleare my self by lawe at iustice barr I did attempte, but wth the like successe, Denye Indictemt coulde I not so farr^ Proofes weare producte they semde I should con- fesses Murther puq)osd and some trecherousnes Againste a Queene my cosin and my freinde^ Who from my subiects sworde did me defende. CLXIX. But that I soughte her life or losse of bloude I did renounce^ as thinge I never mente. My secretaries handes againste me stoode. Who to that end it semes had Lres sente^ W ho far beyonde comission therein wente ; Aud in a case so harde for to descrye^ My faulte semes greate I cane it not denye. CLXX. Some thinges I graunte^ the purpose I denje^ As not procedinge from malicious minde Againste her self, but as a meanes whereby To gayne my owne^ and libertie to finde^ Whiche to preserue dothe lawe of nature binde ; And so the case did seme to stande wth me^ That ones decaye muste others safetye be. 60 €])t LegenO of iHarp, CLXXI. But theise niv reasons mighte she vse also, ^Vho had likewise a crowne and life to saue. And had good causeas lothelyc to forgoe The thinge she helde, as I the thinge thev crave. And raighte defende what lawe & nature gaue. And iustlye share to me the bitter pill Wch she had tane,mighte they hauehadtheire will. CLXXII. Thus I convicte muste satisfve the lawe. Not of reyenge wch hatred did desenie. But of necessitve bv wch they sawe !VIv onelv deathe coulde her in life preserue ; W'ch I reiovce so good a turne did serve : That haples I mighte make some recompence. By yeldinge vp the life bred suche oftence. CLXXIII. And for to halt it is but follye now, I do protest dispaire so prest my minde. That I did rather others facts alowe^ Then set them on to actions so vnkinde ; Thoughe manye times mv self was not behinde. To blowe the fire wch others semde to mak(>. Or at the least did therein pleasures take. (Queen of greats. 61 CLXXIV. To do or to procure^ to worke or will^ VVth God is one, and princes holde the same. He that till deed be done forbeares the ill^ For slackinge iustice oft maye merit blame ; So precious is a princes life or name ; Lcs harme it is a mischeif to prevente^ By smarte of one then over late repente. CLXXV Well, when I knewe that I the parte must plaje. That SJaiUS broode of force muste representee I gan wth depe remorse my life to waye. And for misdeeds w^^^ sorrowe to relente ; Whilest sighes to Heaven my humble prayers sente^ There to prepare my soule a restinge place, Wch in this life had rvn so lose a race. CLXXVI. Whiche beinge done I did my corps bequeath. To make a sacrifice for pennance due. To strocke of axe wch did that life bereaue, Wch I laied downe in hope to take a newe. Of greater blisse then fleshe yet euer knewe ; Wch chaunge of myne wth ioye I now disclose, W ho for the worste the better life haue chose. 62 €\}t tegmO of iHarp, CLXXVII Thus Baldwvne hast thow harde what other saie. And what my self muste nedes in parte confesse^ ludge thow the best of things I do thee praye. How ere reporte dothe soiinde things more or lesse. What is the likeliest truethe thie self maye gesse^ The best is bad enough, some part excuse^ To beare my parte of blame I not refuse. CLXXVIII. Loke not that I w^^ malice shoulde persue The aucthors or the actors of my fall^ Or councell other quarrells to renue^ Wch cannot quite my credit oughte at all^ Ne knowe I well whom moste accuse I shall ; My subiects that my frailtye did not hide^ Or Englande that my pride coulde not abide. CLXXIX I rather now desire to testifye. The penitents I haue for former deeds^ That others maye instructed be thereby^ And mourne wth me whose harte w*h sorrowe bleeds^ To see how fruitefull is man's liffe of weeds^ How seldome natures truest soile dothe yeelde A Bowre where vertue maje her mansion builde. ©ueen of B^tot^. 63 CLXXX And that my storje maje not fruitles hCj, I wishe thee warne suche as shall reade the same. Not to repose theire truste in highe degree. Or shroude thehe sins in glorious princly name. Whose highe estate procures theire greater shame ; But let there iustice, vertue, and renowne, Protecte theire names and sheilde theire Royall crowne. CLXXXI. Tell them thatbloud didallwaies vengeaunce crave. Since SlbrtlS time vntill this presente daie. Tell them they lightlye loose that all woulde haue. That clymers feet are but in tickle staie. That strengthe is lost when men doe overswaye. That treason neuer is so well contriude That he who vseth it is longest livde. CLXXXII. And let me crave^ a poore vnhappye wighte. That since I serue as patterne them to teache. The harde events wch for suche sinns do lighte. Who headles thus on scaffolde now do preache, Maye heare no more theire slaunders hither reaclie, Wch do tormente wth still pursuinge fame. Of harde reporte a haples princes name. 64 /3ri)e £egenD of iHai^?, CLXXXIII. Let wth mj deathe my faults be cleane remitt. And wth mv bones my name exempt from wonge^ My bodye hathe sustainde a guerdon fitt, Whose freed soule woulde not be blamd so longe^ But forced me to presse amidest the thronge Of theis the ghostes whose stories thow didst wTight^ To represente a trueth before thie sighte. CLXXXIV. What favour shoulde I from my foes expecte. If so vnkindelv freindes do deale wth me : If that my subiects do my faults detecte, I cannot loke that straungers shoulde me free ; They shoulde haue propte or bente my buddinge tree^ In youthe whilst I as yet was plient wood^ And mighte have proued a peece of timber good. CLXXXV. Now will I hence retire vnto my hearse. And leave the loathsome ay re where ye abide, Andstayethe time till these my bones maye pearse, W^b bodye clad, ^y^^ one daie shalbe tide. Into the Heavens pallace faire and wide, W hereas my soule my cominge dothe attend, Till latter daie dothe bringe a fatall end. ©ueen of g^coto. 65 CLXXXVI. There doe I hope my crowne to repossesses Not wch on earthe I loste and parents gaue^ But Wch by SiDaniS falle bothe greate & lesse Did loose^ but CljUfetCredeemd^ & suche shall haue As by his deathe the same in faithe do crave^ A happye chaunge when mortall things shalbe Eternyzed by Immortalitye. to t^je i^egenti of i^arp, <©uecn of B>tat8, Multa renascentur^ quce jam cecidere, HoR. It seems but an act of justice to pay some honour to the memory of men ichose labours have promoted literature^ and enabled others to eclipse their reputation.'^ Lord Holland. \ .iris p. 3. St. i,— Baldwyn awake^ thie penn hath slept to longe, Ferris is dead : state cares state Sackvill's ease. These were the principal contributors to the Mirror for Magistrates, respecting whom see Appendix, No. 1. P. 3. St. i,— Theise latter witts delighte in pleasant songe^ Or lovinge layes a;c/t maie theire mrs. please. In the original M. S. sayes^ which I have emendated to layes^ conceiving the former to be a mistake of the tran- scriber : Ley is inaccurately defined a song by Speght, whereas, no two things can be possibly more distinct. M. de la Ravaliere in Poes. du Roi de Nav. styles Lay une sorte d'Elegie," and derives it from du mot Latin Lessus, qui signifie des plaintes but the learned, accu- rate, and lamented Tyrwhitt has shewn the fallacy of such doctrine, in the very elaborate Discourse prefixed to his excellent edition of Chaucer ; he there clearly proves that Lai, Fr, Liod, IsL Lied, Tuet. and Leoth, Sax. are all to be deduced from the same Gothic original, and appropri- ately describes the Lay to be '-a species of serious narra^ five poetry, of moderate length, in a simple style, and light metre." p. 3. St. ii,— And in some sorte I guiltye am of blame. It will be seen in the course of the poem, that, the writer palliates rather than defends, the crimes imputed to the unfortunate Mary. P. 4. St. iii. sithe — since. P. 4. St. iii. And noio the knightes &c. Ushi|ient5, together, with the favpur- ' able circumstance of her having one kingdom already in • her possession, and the prospect of mounting the. throne ' of another, prompted many different princes to solicit an ' alliance so illustrious. Scotland, by its situation, threw ' so much weight and power into whatever scale it fell, ' that all Europe waited with solicitude for Mary's deter- ^ mination ; and no event in that age excited stronger po- ' litical fears and jealousies, none interested more deeply ' the passions of several princes, or gave rise to more con- ' tradictory intrigues, than the marriage of the Scottish Queen. The princes of the house of Austria remembered what vast projects the French had founded on their former alliance with, the Queen of Scots ; and though the unex- pected death, hrst of Henry and then of Francis, had hindered_,the§e, frqin taking effect, yet if Mary should again make choice of a husband among the French princes, the same designs might be revived and prosecuted yvith better success. In order to prevent this, the Emperor entered into a .^legociation with the Cardinal of Lorrain, who had pro- posed to marry the, Scottish Queen to the Archduke CharleS;, Ferdinand's third son. The matter was com- municated to Mary, and Melvil, who at that time at- tended the Elector Palatine, was commanded to inquire ^intQ the character and situation of the Archduke. •^j* .jPhilip II. though no less apprehensive of Mary's fall- ing once more into the hands of France envied his uncle Ferdinand the acquisition of so important a prize ; and " as' his own insatiable ambition grasped at all the King- doms of Europe, he employed his Embassador at theFrench " court to solicit the Princes of Lorrain in behalf of his soil Don Carlos, at that time the heir of ail the extensive do- minions which belonged to the Spanish monarchy. * • ''Catherine of Medicis, on the other hand dreaded the marriage of the Scottish Queen to any of the Austrian '' Princes, which would have added so riinch to the power and pretensions 6f that ambitious race. Her jealousy of " the Princes of Lorrain rendered her no less averse '' from an alliance which by securing them the protection '' of the Emperor or King of Spain, would give new bold- " ness to their enterprising spirit, and enable them to set the power of the crown^ which they already rivalled, at " open defiance : and as she was afraid that these splendid " proposals of the Austrian fam^y would dazzle the young " Queen, she instantly dispatched Castlenau into Scotland, " to offer her in marriage the Duke of Anjou, the- brother " of her former husband, who soon after mounted the '' throne of France. '' Mary attentively weighed the pretensions of so many " rivals. The Archduke had little to recommend him but his high birth. The example of Henry VIII. was a '' warning against contracting a marriage with the brother '' of her former husband ; nor could she bear the thought '' of appearing in France, in a rank inferior to that which '' which she had formerly held in that kingdom. She lis- '•" tened therefore with partiality to the Spanish propositions, ''and the prospect of such vast power and dominions flat- '' tered the ambition of a young and aspiring princess" — Robertson, Cr 3 86 " As Mary, in compliance to her subjects, and pressed by the strongest motives of interest, determined speedily to marry, Elizabeth was obliged to break that unac- countable silence which she had hitherto affected. The secret was disclosed, and her favourite Lord Robert Dud- ley, afterwards Earl of Leicester, was declared to be the " happy man whom she had chosen to be the husband of a Queen courted by so many princes. * # * * * The high spirit of the Scottish Queen could not well hear the first overture of a match with a subject : Her own rank, the splendor of her former marriage, and the "solicitations at this time of so many powerful princes, crowded into her thoughts, and made her sensibly feel how humbling and disrespectful Elizabeth's proposal was, She dissembled, however, with the English resident ; and,- though she declared, in strong terms, what a degradation she would deiem this alliance, which brought along with " it no adv^ntag^ that could justify such neglect of her own " dignity, she niejitioned the Earl of Leicester, notwith- standing, in terms full of respect." — Robertson. P. 24. St. 65. Lord Darnly was at this time in the first bloom and vigour of youth. In beauty and grace- fulness of person he surpassed all his contemporaries ; he excelled eminently in those arts which add ease and elegance to external form, and which enabled it not only " to dazzle but tQ please. Mary,. was of an age, and of a ^' temper, to feel the fnll power of these accomplishments. " The impressit^n which J^rd Darnleymade upon her was " visible from tl<^,.tiipe of their, first interview ; the whole business of the Court was to amuse and entertain this " illustrious guest^ and in all those scenes of gaiety, Darnly, 87 whose qualifications ^vere altogether superficial and shewj, appeared to great advantage. His conquest of - the Queen's heart was now complete ; and inclination now prompted her to conclude a marriage, the f»iSt thoughts of which had been suggested by considerations merely political." — Robertson. Sum tynie scho (Mary) thochtl was sa amiabill, Sa perfect, plesand, and sa delectabill ; Lancit with luif, sho luid me by all wycht : " Sura tyme, to shaw affectioun fauorabill, " Gratifeit me with giftis honorabili ; " Maid me, zc knaw, baith lord, duik, erle, &knycht : Sum tyme in roynde she praisit me sa hycht, Leifand all vther j hir bedfollow brycht Chesit me to be, and maid me zour king. Than was I thocht happy into menis sycht, »• And puir anis did pryse thair Maker of mycht. That send thame ane Stewart sa kindelie to ring." %z^tmint ana 'E^ageuie of umciu!)ile lining il)mnc '©tetmtt, of guBe memorie^ Edinb. 1567. P. 26. St. Ixx,— A sheapheards life, calme contente of mindj Is greater blisse then manye princes Jinde. Who, that will not acknowledge the justness of the re- mark contained in this couplet. In all ages and in all climes the pastoral life has been the theme-delightful of enrap- tured Poesy : Equally free from the cares of state and the rankling of ambition, the shepherd's life, glides on in an unceasing harmony, and to a reflecting mind, presents an object of unequalled interest. 83 , ,P. ^Ov-st. l^xi,— . ... . , . ^^ Thaf raisde a brute amongc the common noise. . Brute from the Fr. bruit, « clamour, rumour, common (ale^ public voice. , Hi^gius' Mirour for Magistrates, edit. 1575, Tragoedie of Elstride, st. 2— *f M^hjch 6rz/2Ye once blowne abroad in every land." Baldwin's Miiy)v^-^fpr Magistrates , edit. 157.5, Edmnnd Duke of Sojner.fet—^i " Abr^ade ..^'^gijit h.vjjMe,s in countrey and ()v^. On the niat^ of ^.lareh, Morton entered the court of thcpalace with an hupdred and sixty men : and without 9S noise, or meefing with any resistance, seized all the gates. While the Queen was at supper with the Countess of Argyle, Rizzio, and a few domestics, the King suddenly entered the apartment by a private passage. At his back was Ruthven, clad in complete armour, and with that ghastly and horrid lookwhich long sickness hadgivenhim. Three or four of his most trusty 'accomplices followed him. Such an unusual appearance alarmed those who were present. Rizzio instantly apprehended that he was the victim at whom the blow was aimed, and in the utmost consternation retired behind the Queen, of whom he laid hold, hoping that the reverence due to her person might prove some protection to him. The conspirators had pro- ceeded too far to be restrained by any consideration of that kind. Numbers of armed men rushed into the cham- ber. Ruthven drew his dagger and with a furious mien and voice commanded Rizzio to leave a place of which he was unworthy, and which he had occupied too long. Mary employed tears, and entreaties,' and threatnings, to save her favourite. But notwithstanding all these, he was torn from her by violence, and before he could be drag- ged through the next apartment, the rage of his enemies put an end to his life, piercing his body with fifty six wounds. — Robertson. " And with ane mynde they did consent togidder " Dauid to slay, quhair euer thay mycht haif him. " Concluding thus, on nycht thay did persaue him, At supper tyme, quhair he was in hir chalraer ; Than come zour King and sum Lords, with ane glamer. And reft him from hir, in spyte of his nois. Syne schot him furth quick lie amang his fois, 94 Quhastickit him, withouttin proccs moir: Botall this mischeif come sensyne thairfoir." ^ne 'Crageuie, in forme of mz ciaUog* htMt l^onour, (JDiiUe &me, aitu t^e autljoui- Ijeirof in mzW^m. 1570. Edinburgh. P. 32. St. Ixxxix,— To be advaunced from a haw estate^ By vertuCj is indeed a happy thinge^ But zcho by fortune clymes will ali^men hate. BMw'm^s Mirour for Magistrates, edit. 1575. Shore^ff Wyfe, St. 33 — What steps of stryfe belong to highe estate: The climing vp is doubtful! to endure, ^' The seateitseife doth purchase priuy hate, " And honour's fame is fickle and vnsure." P. 34. St. xciilj — Saue that I woulde not interressed be, IVth suche suspecte wherewth some slaundered me. Doctor Johnson in his Dictionaty makes the verb interess synonimous with interest, and derives it truly from the Fr. interesser. Ilis definition is however incorrect, to concern ; to affect ; to give share in, doubtless such may be the mean- ing of the French word at the present day, but the Doctor should have been aware that it originally conveyed a totally different allusion, dishonoured, hurt or hindered by ; icrong_ ed, grieved, pained. See Gotgrave's valuable French Die- tiofiary. In the above two lines we must explain it zcrong' ed; That the Doctor's dictionary is a careless performance, must be allowed, but I cannot speak of his transcendent abilities with the malevolence of Pinkerton. " Dr. John- 95 son, the poor copier of Junius and Skinner, did not even know it may be inferred, what he ought to have studied before he wrote a dictionary; much less liow to write a dictionary itself. Next century w'U pronounce his v/ork, what it really is, a disgrace to the language. His exam- pies, tho' already allowed his sole merit, are as ill-chosenr as his etymologies ; and very many are misquoted, or are given to wrong authors, so that, such as they are, they can scarcely be depended on. An academij alone can ^' write a dictionary. It would require at least six men of deep learning to adjust etymologies ; and twenty proper judges [Mister Pinkerton for instance] to settle what " words actually belong to our language. Any school- master might have done what Johnson did [a falshood,] His dictionary is merely a glossary to his ozcn barbarous zcorks. Indeed, that a man of very small learning (see *'his works, j but confessedly quite ignorantof the northern tongues, should pretend to write an English dictionary at all; that a man, confessedly without taste, should at- " tempt to define the nicer power of words, a chief pro"» " vince of taste ; that a man, confessedly the very worst writer in the language save Sir Thomas Browne, and whose whole zsorks are true pages of inanity wrapt in barbarism^ should set up for a judge of our language ; are all ideas to excite laughter" [the visible faculties of Mister P. are very ticklish I suppose.] Maitland's Poems p. 403. So acrimonious a philippic, would lead one to suppofe that it had been originated from national antipathy. When Mister Pinkerton is able to write such pages of inanity as the Rambler, then will I allow him to give his opinion on the Doctor's writings, but until then, let him remain silent. — It is my fervent hope that we mayboasr 96 of more such barbarous zvorks as the Rambler and the Lives of the Poets. The admirers of that great and good man, may rest assured that he will not be the worst writer in the language, whilst any of Mister Pinkerton's labours sur_ viye. ^len like the latter are produced every day. Such a man as Doctor Johnson, does not appear more than once in a century. As I am now upon the subject of dictionaries, let me offer my meed to Doctor Jamicson, who has lately published ''An Etymological Dictionary of the Scottish lan- guage"' without exception the best Lexicographical work that any country possesses. The etymons are at once ori- ginal and convincing, the definitions and examples are at once correct and amusing; the appearance of such a work negatives conclusively Mister Pinkerton's assumption that an academy alone can write a dictionary."' P. 35. St. xcvi. Then file 7m/ spcache, &c. — File may either be understood as filly or defile. P. 36. St. ci, — Iknewe in izhom didmosie iheire siulc corishtj Him did I put in hope o f former fru:^ts, James, Earl of Murray ; her natural Brother. P. 37. st. civ. Lo. Bothzcell z:as his name^ kc. *• About this time a new favourite grew into great credit ^' with the Queen, and soon gained an ascendant over her heart, Mhich encouraged his enterprising genius to form " designs that proved fatal to himself, and the occasion of ail Mary's subsequent misfortunes. This was James Hepburn, Earl of Bothwell, the head of an ancient family, " and, by his extensive posessious and numerous vassals, on« 97 ' of the most powerful noblemen in the kingdom. Even in ' that turbulent ago when so many vast projects were laid ' open to an aspiring mind, and invited to action, no ^ man's ambition was more daring than Both well's, or had ' recourse to bolder or more singular expedients for ob- ^ taining power. AVhcn almost every person of distinction 'in the kingdom, whether papist or protestant, had joined ' the Congregation in opposing the dangerous encroach- • ments of the French upon the liberties of the nation, he ' though an avowed protestant, adhered to the Queen Re- ' gent, and acted with vigour on her side. The success which attended the arms of the Congregation having obliged him to retire into France, he was taken into the Queen's service, and continued with her till the time of her return into Scotland. From that period, every step of his conduct towards Mary was remarkably dutiful ; and amidst all the shiftings of faction we scarcely erer find him holding any course which could be offensive to her. AVhen Murray's proceedings wiih regard to her marriage gave umbrage to the Queen, she recalled Both- well from that banishment into which she had with reluc- tance driven him, and considered his zeal and abilities as the most powerful supports of her authority. When the conspirators against Rizzio seized her person, he became the chief instrument of recovering her liberty, and served her on that occasion with so much fidelity and success, as made the deepest impression on her mind, and greatly encreased the confidence which she had hitherto placed in him. Her gratitude loaded him with marks of her boun- ty ; she raised him to offices of profit and of trust, and transacted no matter of importance without his advice. By complaisance and assiduity he confirmed and fortified 98 these dispositions of the Queen in his fayour, and insensi- " bly payed the way towards that vast project which his ambition had perhaps already conceived, and Avhich, in " spite of so many dilRcultics, and at the expence of many crimes, he at last accomplished." — Robertson, P. 38. St. cvii. rife — plenteous. P. 39. St. cviii. The murder of Henry Lord Darnly. In January, the Kyng came to Glascuo where he fell sicke ; and remouing from thence, wente to Edenburgh, and the Queene accompanyed him. She lodged atHolyRoode House, but hee was lodged in a house within the towne neere to the Kirkafield, within the whiche, the tenth of February in the nighte, hee was shamefully murthered, togyther wyth one William Parat. " Hee was caste into an orcharde, and heerewith the house was blowen vp wyth gupowder."— !^otinsi)eU'^i Cij^to- nicies, ed. 1577. iI?i^torie of '§)eottattQe, p. 503. " On Sunday, the ninth of February, 1 567, about eleven at night, the Queen left the Kirk of Field, in order to be present at a masque in the palace. At two next morning, the house in w hich the King lay was blown up with gun- " powder. The noise and shock which this sudden explo- sion occasioned, alarmed the whole city. The inhabi- tants ran to the place whence it came. The dead body ^' of the King, with that of a servant who slept in the same room, were found lying in an adjacent garden without the city wall, untouched by fire, and witii no bruise or " mark of violence. Such was the unhappy fate of Henry Stewart lord Darnly, in the twenty-first year of his age. The indul- 99 gcnce of fortune, and his own external accomplishments, without any other merit, had raised him to an height of dignity of which he was altogether unworthy. By his " folly and ingratitude, he lost the lieart of a woman who doated on him to distraction. His insolence and incon- stancy alienated from him those nobles who had contri- buted most zealously towards his elevation. His levity and caprice exposed him to the scorn of the people, who once revered him as the descendant of their ancient kings and heroes. Had he died a natural death, his end^vould " have been unlamented, and his memory have been for* " gotten ; but the cruel circumstances of his murder, and the slackness with which it was afterwards avenged, have made his name to be remembered with regret, and have rendered him the object of pity, to which he had otherwise no title." — Robertson. " Bot with Bothwell scho maid conspiracie, Seikand the way to cause hir husband die ; Heir we lat pas greit tressounis thay committit, " Quhilks, for schortnes of tyme, we half omittit, Bot of zour King, schortly for to declair, Bothwell with pulder blew him in the air, " At hir request — Sine ^rageriie, in forme of ane C>ia!offff bettop C?ouottr, (25ttDe fame, ano autI)our, Edinb. 1570. That Mary conspired with Bothwell to murder her hus- band, is now an acknowledged fact : Some weak men heat- ed with faction have endeavoured to acquit her of the crime, but the better judgments of Hume, of Robertson, of Hailes, of Pinkerton, and-of Laing have pronounced her Guilty. " The participation of Mary in the murder of H 2 100 her husband, must rest hereafter as an established truth, " which no prejudice can evade, nor the perverse ingenuity " of disputants confute." — Laing's History of Scotland, vol. 2, p. 67. Many original documents relative to the murder of Darnly, are preserved in Anderson's Collections. P. 39. St. cviii, — Whilste he in bed his heatheles bones did rest, I must confess my inability to explain the word heatheles. It is not in any one of the numerous glossaries that I have consulted, and I refrain from conjecture. P. 39. St. cix, — The breache of peace betvcixt is grow en of late. This line will read better if is be replaced by us. P. 40. St. cxi. (James Earl of Murray) " he was the ^' natural son of James V. by a daughter of Lord Erskine ; '•^ and, as that amorous monarch had left several others a burden upon the crown, they were destined for the church, where they could be placed in stations of dignity and " affluence. In consequence of this resolution, the priory of St. Andrew's had been conferred upon James ; but> during so busy a period he soon became disgusted with the indolence and retirement of a monastic life; and his " enterprising genius called him forth to acta principal part " on a more public and conspicuous theatre. The scene in " which he appeared required talents of different kinds : military virtue and political discernment, were equally " necessary in order to render him illustrious. These he possessed in an eminent degree. To the most unquestion- 4 101 " able personal bravery, he added great skill in the art of war ; and in every enterprise his arms were crowned with success. His sagacity and penetration in civil atFairs ena- bled liim, amidst the reeling and turbulence of factions, to hold a prosperous course ; while his boldness in de- ^' fence of the reformation, together with the decency, and ^' even severity, of his manners, secured him the reputation of being sincerely attached to religion, without which it was impossible in that age to gain an ascendant over mankind. There is no person in that age about whom historians " have been more divided, or whose character has been " drawn with such opposite colours. Personal intrepidity " military skill, sagacity, and vigour in the administration of civil affairs, are virtues, which even his enemies allow him to have possessed in an eminent degree. His moral ^'qualities are more dubious and ought neitherto be praised nor censured without great reserve, and many distinctions. " In a fierce age he was capable of using victory with hu- manity, and of treating the vanquished with moderation, " A patron of learning, which, among martial nobles, was either unknown, or despised. Zealous for religion, to a degree which distinguished him, even at a timewhen pro- fessions of that kind were not uncommon. His confi- dence in his friends was extreme, and inferior only in his " liberality towards them, which knew no bounds. A dis- interested passion for the liberty of his country pronipted *' him to oppose the pernicious system which the Princes of Lorrain had obliged the Queen's mother to pursue. On Mary's return into Scotland, he served her with a zeal and affection to which he sacrificed the friendship of those H 3 . 102 >vho M ere most attached to his person. But, on the other hand, his ambition was immoderate ; and events so hap- " pened that opened to him vast proji-cls, which allured his enterprising genius, and led him to actions inconsistent " with the duty of a subject. His treatment of the Queen, ''to whose bounty he was so much indebted, was unbro- therly and ungrateful. The dependence on Elizabeth, un- '' der which he brought Scotland, was disgraceful to the na- '' tion. He deceived and betrayed Norfolk with a baseness '' unworthy a man of honour. His elevation to such un- *' expected dignity inspired him with new passions, with *' haughtiness and reserve ; and instead of his natural man- ner, which was blunt and open, he affected the arts of ^' dissimulation and refinement. Fond, towards the end of *' his life, of Hattcry, and, impatient of advice, his crea- •' tureSj by soothing his vanity? led him astray, while his '' ancient friends stood at a distance, and predicted his ap- proaching fall. — But amidst the turbulence and confusion *^ of that factious period ; he dispensed justice with so '' much impartiality ; he repressed the licentious borderers " with so much courage, and established such uncommon '' order and tranquillity in the country, that his adminis- '' tration was extremely popular, and he was long and <' aftectionately remembered among the commons by the " name of theGooo Regent." — Robertson, The Regent was most dastardly and inhumanely assassi- nated by Hamilton of Bothwellhaugh on the 23d of January 1570. The Muse of Mister Walter Scott has not been si- lent on such an occasion. Character of the Earl of Murray in ^nz ^aQ'iUt, in forme of sue ciallog* &c. Edinb. 1570. «' He had lykewyse the justice of Jethro, 103 And als the chastitie of Scipio : He had of Dauid the beningnitie. And of Titus the liberalitie. Qiihat wald thovv moir ? To tell of all his yertuSj " For commoun wcUhis he did excell Camillas." P. 40. St. cxii. About this time, or a little before, " Murray is said to have made a most singular proposal, " He solicited the Queen to entail the crown on four fami- lies of the Royal Sirname. According to histories, she deliberated with her Council, who thought she had no power, in minority, to alter the course of succession. " If ever Murray made the proposal, it might be from mo- " tives of a patriotic nature ; and not with the view of be- ing first named." Dalyell's Life of Regent Murray p. 68. in Scottish Poems of the Sixteenth Century, 1801. P. 40. St. cxiii. There is an obscurity in this stanza, arising from the confusion of sense in the sixth line, which is not very legible in the M. S. I apprehend some other word than state must have been meant. P. 40. St. cxiii. Bleringe. This word is literally, a dis-^ order in the eye^ as such it is used by Chaucer, v. 16198. And of my swinke yet blered is min eye." The Chanones Yemanne's Tale. Its poetical or metaphorical sense is ; xsohen imposed on. Chaucer, v. 17197. By God, quod he, I singe not amis " Phcebus, (quod he) for all thy worthinesses " For all th^^ beautee and aJl tJ^^-' nrrtn+ilipcQd 104 For all thy song and alle thy minstralcic, For ally thy waitingc, blered is thin eye." The ^Manciple's Tale. P.41. St. cxiY. thmge. In the IM.S. thinke^ which is an an- cient orthography for thing, and was inadvertently altered. P. 42. st. cxvii. The genuineness of these letters is dis- cussed in Th;Mlissertations of Robertson and Laiiig, to>\hich, I refer the reader. P. 45. st. cxxTi. Amidst so many great and unex- pected events, the fate of Bothwell, the chief cause of them all, hath been almost forgotten. After his flight from the confederates, he lurked for some time among his vassals in the neighbourhood of Dunbar. But finding it impossible for him to make head in that country against " his enemies, or even to secure himself from their pursuit, " he fled for shelter to his kinsman the Bishop of Murray ; and when he, overawed by the confederates, was obliged to abandon him, he retired to the Orkney Isles. Hunted from place to place, deserted by his friends, and accom- " panied by a few retainers as desperate as hiir.self, he suf- " fered at once the miseries of infamy and of want. His indigence forced him upon a course which added to his " infamy. He armed a few small ships which had accom- pjaied him from Dunbar, and attacking every vessel " Awiich fell in his way, endeavoured to procure subsistence for himself and his followers by piracy. Kirkaldy and Murray of Tullibardin were sent out against him by the confederates ; and surprising him while he rode at " anchor, scattered his small fleet, took a part of it, and 105 obliged him to (ly with a single ship towards Norway. " On that coast, he fiill in with a vessel richly laden, and iminediateiy attacked it ; the Norwegians sailed with *' armed boats to its assistance, and after a desperate fight, " Both well and all his crew v. ere taken prisoners. His / "name and quality were both unknown, and he was treated " at first with all the indignity and rigour which the odious " crime of piracy merited. His real character was soon discovered ; and though it saved hisa from the infamous death to which his associates were condemned, it could *' neither procure his liberty, nor mitigate the hardship of his imprisonment. He languished ten years in this un- " happy condition ; melancholy and despair deprived him of reason, and at last he ended his days, unpitied by his " countrymen, and unassisted by strangers." — Robertson, P. 46. st. cxxxi. zcrakinge — revenging. " O Turnus, Turnus, ful hard and hcvy zcraik And sorouful vengeance yit sal the ouertaik." Douglas' Virgil, 228. 44. " Put me owt to olde Garcy, " Yf all thes men schulde for me dye, " Hyt were a doleful! zcrake.''^ Le Bonne Florence of Rone, v. 580. " I sought all meanes myformer wrong to wreake.^^ Biddv^'m's Mir. for Mag. edit. 1575. Leg. of Percy' P. 47. St. cxxxiii. revenue — bereaved. P. 47. St. cxxxiv. rzje— plentiful. P. 48. St. cxxxvi. brute* See note on stanza Ixxi. 106 P. 48. St. cxxxvi,— Some belter steale then some loke on the icaie. From the proverbial vulgarism. One man may stealc a horse ^ while another may look over a hedge.^' P. 49. St. cxxxviii, — JVho of a Queene a captive noiD became S(c. The unfortunate Mary was, by the confederate lords, committed under a strong guard, to the castle of Loch- " leven, and [they] signed a warrant to William Douglas, the owner of it, to detain Jier as a prisoner. This castle is situated on a small island, in the middle of a lake." Kobe rt sun. P. 49. St. cxl,— And at the laste I founde a Kaye for JUgJite^ Fro greate Loughleuen^ kc. At last Mary employed all her art to gain George " Douglas, her keeper's brother, a youth of eighteen; as " her manners were naturally affable and insinuating, she ^' treated him with the most flattering distinction ; she even " allowed him to entertain the most ambitious hopes, by Icfting-fall some expressions as if she would chuse him for *' her husband ; at his age, and in such circumstances, it " M as impossible to resist such a temptation ; he yielded, and drew others into the plot ; on Sunday the second of " May, while his brother sat at supper, and the rest of the family were retired to their devotions, one of his accom- * plici s found means to steal the keys out of his brother's ' chamber, and opening the gates to the Queen and one of ' her maids, locked them behind her, and threw the keys ' into the lake, Mary ran with precipitation to the boat 107 ^' which was prepared for her, and on reaching the shore " was received with the utmost joy by Douglas, Lord " Seaton, and Sir James Hamilton, who, with a few atten- dants, waited for her. She instantly mounted on horse- back and rode full speed towards Niddrie, LordSeaton's " seat in West Lothain. She arrived there that nightj without being pursued or interrupted. After halting three " hours she set out for Hamilton, and travelling at the same pace, she reached it next morning." — Robertson. P, 49. St. cxl,— And once againe mii friendes for me did Jighte^ Aud lucldes as to fore they loste the date, Thoughe double vsas theire power as manie sate. Her [Mary's] army, w hich was almost double to the enemy in number^ consisted chiefly of the Harailtons and their dependents." — Robertson. " Mary's imprudence in resolving to fight was not greater " than the ill. conduct of her Gen«rals in the battle. Be- tween the tw o armies, and on the road towards Dumbar- " ton, there was an eminence called Langside-hill. This ^' the Regent had the precaution to seize, and posted his ^' troops in a small village, and among some gardens and inclosures adjacent. In this advantageous situation he *^ awaited the approach of the enemy, whose superiority in cavalry could be of no benefit to them on such broken ground. The Harailtons, who composed the vanguard, ran so eagerly to the attack, that they put themselves out of breath, and left the main battle far behind ; theencoun- ter of the spearmen was fierce and desperate, but, as the forces of the Hamiltons were exposed on the one flank ^' to a continued fire from a body of musqueteers, attacked 108 *' Upon the other by the Regent's most choice troops, and not supported by the rest of the Queen's army, they " wi-re soon obliged to give ground, and the rout imme- " diatcly became universal. Few victories in a civil war, " and among a barbarous people, have been pursued with ^' less violence, or attended with less bloodshed. Three " hundred fell in the field ; in the flight very few were " killed. The Regent and his principal officers rode about^ beseeching the soldiers to spare their countrymen. The number of prisoners was great, and among them many " persons of distinction. The Regent marched back to Glasgow, and returned public thanks to God for this great, and on his side, almost bloodless victory, " During the engagement, Mary stood on a hill, at no great distance, and beheld all that passed in the field, with such emotions of mind as are not easily described. When she saw the army, which was her last hope, thrown into irretrievable confusion, her spirit, which all her past misfortunes had not been able entirely to subdue, sunk altogether. In the utmost consternation, she began her flight, and so lively were her impressions of fear, that she never closed her eyes till she reached the Abbey of " Dimdrennan in Galloway, full sixty Scottish miles from the place of battle." — Robertson, P. 50. st. cxlii. She did not think herself safe, even " in tiiat retreat [DundrennanJ : and her fears impelled her to an action, the most unadvised as well as the most un- *• fortunate in her whole life. This was her retiriug into " iMigland, a step which, on many accounts, ought to have appeared to her rash and dangerous." — Robertson. The detail of Mary's reception, by the writer of the 109 Legend, must be received with great caution. It would have been dangerous to speak of Elizabeth's conduct as it deserved; during her life time. P. 51. St. cxliv. The conference of the Commissioners at York and Westminster, has been fully treated on by- Robertson. History^ book V. P. 53. St. cl. Small provocations — in M.S. Small prow- deations, P. 54. st. cliv. Concerning the Duke of Norfolk, see Robertson's History, books V. & VI. P. 55. St. clviii. Thus towled S^c. — I have not disco- Tered any other instance of the word towled being used. Qu. is it a mistake for towed, drawn — this alteration will luit the context. P. 55. St. clviii. guerdon — reward, recompence. P. 56. St. clix. See Robertson, book VII. P. 56. St. clx,— Who postinge are with Tiborne tippets gone — i. e. are hanged at Tyburn, I have some recollection of a similar phrase in Shakspere, but my memory fails in as- sisting me to point out the passage. p. 57. st. clxii. wan — got j as in Ywaine and Gawin^ T. 1803— Bot yit his clathes on he wan,^* 110 p. 61. St. clxxv. lose — loose. P. 61. St. clxxvi. That great Princcssc Mary Queene ^' of Scotland, whose imtimciy death and unfortunate end was finished at Fotheringhay Castle in the county of Northampton, to the great discontent of her Majesty." Speed's Ilistori/ of Great Britain, edit. 1623, p. 1196. This year ended the doleful life of a distressed lady, " Mary Queen of Scots, whose triall and death belongeth to the State Historian : She was aged fourty six years, " passing the last twenty in Imprisonment, one of a sharp "wit; undaunted spirit; comely person, beautiful face, majestic presence, one reason why Queen Elizabeth de- " clincd (what the other so much desired) a personal con- ference with her, as unwilling to be either outshone or ^' even-shone in her own hemispheare. For her morals, the " belief of moderate men embraceth as middle course be- twixt Buchanan aspersing, and Causinus his hyperbolical " commending her, because zealous in hisown religion. " She was an excellent poet, both Latin and English, of the former I have read a distick made and written by her " own hand on a pane of glass, at Buxton-well. Buxtona quae calidae celebraris nomine Lymphae, Forte mihi posthac non adeunda, Vale. • ' Btf.xion^ zcJio dost zcitli loaters ivartne excelly Bjj me, perchance, never more ^e/?, Farezveli And at Fotheringhay Castle I have read written by * Thus trar.'>!aied iii iialUird's Menioir.-, p. i61 — " Buxton, whose fame th) bath shall ever tell, " Wiiorn \ perhaps shall see no more, Farewell I" Ill her in a window with a pointed diamond, From the top of all ray trust, " Mishap hath laid me in the dust.'* Fuller's Church History^ 1(355, book ix. p. 181. From a M.S. in Mr. Ashmole's study, No. 781, intitled *^ A true declaration of the execution of Mary, the late Queen of Scotts, within the castle of Fotheringhay, 8th Feb. 1586," addressed to the Right Honourable Sir William Cecill, Knt. Lord Burleigh, Lord High Treasurer of Eng- land. This account is dated Feb. 11, 1586, and concludes Your ho. in all humble service to command, R. W. She was of stature tall, of bodie corpulent, round shoul- dered, of face fat and broad, double chinned, and hazel eyed ; borrowed hair, abourne. Her attire was this, on her head she had a dressing oflawne edged with bone lace, a pomander chaine, and an agnus Dei about her neck, a crucifix in her hand, a pair of beads at her girdle, with a golden cross at the end of them ; a vail of laune fastened to the caule bowed out with wyre and edged round about with bone lace. Her gown was of black sattin, printed, with a train, and long sleeves, to the ground, set withacornc buttons of jett trimmed with pearl, and short sleeves of black sattin cutt, with a pair of sleeves of purple velvet, whole under them ; her kirtle whole of crymson sattin, and her petticoat skirte of crim- son velvet, her shoes of Spanish leather, the rough side outward, a pair of green silk garters ; her nether stock- " ing worsted, coloured watched, clocked with silver, and edged on the top with silver, and next her leg a pair of Jersey hose white. When the two executioners kneeled down unto her and '' desired her to forgive them her death, she answered I 112 forgive you ^vith all my heart ; for I hope this day shall *' give an end to all my (roubles. Then they with her two women helping her up began to disrobe her, and then *' she laid her crucifix upon (he stooll. On.- of the execu- " (ioncrs took from her neck her agnus De?', then she began **• to lay hold of it saying, she would give it to one of her women, and withal told the executioner, that he should have money for it. Then she sutfered them with her two wo- " men to take of the chain of pomander beades and all her other apparell, and (hen with a kind of gladness and smilinge she began to make herself unreddy, putting on a pair of sleeves with her owne hands (which the two executioners had before rudely pulled oft) and that with " such speed as if she longed to have been gone out of this <^ world : during all these actions of disrobeing of the said ^' Queen, she never altered her countenance, but smilinge " as it were at it said she ?iever had such Groomes before to make her unreddy, nor never did off her cloathes be- ^' fore such a company. At length she being unattired and unapparalleled of such and so much of her attire and ap- "parell as was convenient saving her petticoat and kirtle, " her two wom.en looking upon her, burst out in a very great shreaking, crying and lamentation, and when their " shreaking began to decline they crossed themselves, and " prayed in latin. Then the said Queen turning herself to " them and seeing them in such a sorrow full and lamentable plight, embraced them and said these words in French, ;>e cri/ voiisjoy prome pur vous. and so crossed and kissed them, and bad them pray for her, and not be so mourn- ful, for said she, this day I trust shall end your mis- tresses troubles ; then with a smiling countenance she turned herself to her men servants, Melvine and the rest, 113 Standing upon a bench near the skaftbld, who were. " sometimes weeping, sometimes crying out aloud, and '* continually crossing themselTCS and praying in latin. And the said Queen (then turned unto them) did herself " likewise cross them and bade them farewell, and prayed them to pray for her even to the last hour. This done one of her women having a Corpus Christi Cloth^ lapped it up three corner wise kissed it and put it over the face " of her Queen and Mistress, and pinned it fast on the Carole of her head. Then they two mournfully departed from her, and then the said Queen kneeled down upon " the cushion, at which time verie resolutely, and without " any token of the fear of death, she spake aloud this psalm in latin, In te Dne Confido, &c. Then groping for the block, she laid down her hands, putting her chain over her " back with both her hands, which holding there still had been " cutt off, had they not been espied. Then she laid herself " upon the block most quietly, and stretching out her armes and legges cried out In manus tuas^ Dne, three or four " times. At last whilst one of the executioners held her straitly with one of his hands, the other gave her two •^^ strokes with an axe before he did cutt off her head, and " yet left a gristle behind. At which time she made very *' small noise, and stirred not any part of herself from the place where she lay. Then the executioner which cut off her head lifted it up, and bad God save the Queen, " Then her dressing of laune fell from her head, which ap- peared as if she had been seventy years old, polled very '•short, her face being in a moment so much altered from the form which she had when she was alive, as few could re- '• member her by her dt'ad face. Her lippes stirred up and I 114 down almost a quarter of an hour after her head was cut « off." The above curious and authentic account I have copied from Ballard's Memoirs of Learned Ladies, 4to. 1752, p. 163. Take, gentle reader, the remark of Mister Ritson, upon the murder of Mary. Queen Elizabeth a green eye'd <^ monster (the illegitimate spawn of a bloody and lustful tyrant,) who, not onely, imprisoned that most beautyful and accomplish'd princess, (to whom she had hypocriti- cally and seductively offer'd a refuge,) for the eighteen best years of her life and reign, but, upon the falseest suggestions, and the grossest forgerys, with a savage and malignant cruelty, unparrallel'd e^en in the Furies or Gorgons of antiquity, deprive'd of crown and kingdom, ^' and deliberately shed the sacred and precious blood, of ^' her nearest relation, and, even the presumptive heir to her *^ own realm, to which, in fact, she had a better title than " herself. O tigress' heart, wrap'd in a w^omans hide !" Ritson's Biblio graph. Poet. page366. O for a Shakspeare or an Otway scene. To draw theZore/y, hapless Scottish Queen, Vain all th' omnipotence of female charms 'Gainst headlong, ruthless, mad Rebellion's arms, She fell, but fell with spirit truly Roman, To glut the vengeance of a rival woman ; A woman, tho' the phrase may seem uncivil, As able and as cruel as the Devil.'' Burns' Rcliques, p. 409. Camentattott of a §)tnnet* ilamentatton of a ^mner. I. Fro ME silent nyght^ trewe regestere of wooes, Frome sadest sovle consvmed wth depest syne. Fro me harte qvyte rent wth sigthes and heavie groneSj My wofull soule hire wofull worke begynes, 4nd to the world bringes tvnes of deep dispayre, Sovndinge notte elles but sorrowe, grivefe, and care. II. Sorrowe to see my sorrowes casse augmented. And yet leesse sorrowe full were my sorrowes more^ Greve yt my gryfe was not wth greefe prevented. For grefe it is mvste ease my greved sore, I 3 118 €f)e lamentation Thuse greefe and sorrowe care but howe to grefe. For griffe it is mvst my cares releve. III. The wovndes freshe bledinge mvst be stancht w^h teares^ Teares canne not come vnlesse some greefe proced^ GryfFe comes to slake wch doth increase my feares, Leaste yt for waunte of helpe I still should bleed^ Do what I cane to lengthn my lyffes breathy Yff teares be wantinge I shall bleed to death. IV. Ohe ! deepest serchere of cache secrett thought ? Infvsse one me they all effectinge grace. So shall my workes to good effect be brought, Whyle I pervse my only synes a space. Whose stayniage fylth so spotted hath my soule. As novght canne clenese, but, teares of inward do v ie. V. Ohe ! that the learned poetes of oure tyme. Who on a Love-sicke lyne so well cane speke. Wold not consvme good Wyte in hatfull ryme. But wtJi deepe care, seme better svbicte seeke ; For yf thayr mysicke pleasse in earthly things, Howe wold it sovnd yf stronge wtii heavenly stri»ges. of a §)mner. 119 VI. But wooe is me to see fovnd woldlings yevsse, Whoe moste delight in thinges y t vaynest be^ And wthout feare^ workes vertues fovlle abusse^ Skoweringe soules healthe^ and all trewe piettie^ As yf thaye made accovmpt neare to departe Frome this frayle lyffe, the pilgremdige of smarte. VII. Svche is the natture of ovre foolyshe keynd. Where practysed syne hath inlye taken roote. The way to peannavnce deve is hard to fynd, Repentavnce held a thinge of lyttell boot. And contrite teares, soules health and angeles joye^ A novmbere covntes a mere ridicvlous toye. VIII. Ille-workinge vyse, devouerere of all grace. The frettinge movth that wasteth soules trewe blysse^ The sly lye thelFe yt lorkes in every place. Fetch in ge by lyttell teill the whole be his ; Howe many are deceved by they slight. To accoumpte there synes as tryffles of no weight. IX. Ohe covrssed custome cavssinge myschefe stell ! To longe they crayfte my sences hath mysled^ 120 Clje lamentattcn To longe have I bvne slave vnto thyc will. To lont::e my soule one beitter swettes hath feede, Nowe soriyttinge wth heel-poysoned bavtes, III deepe repentavnce former folljes hates ; X And hvmbley craves w^'i sorrowes rended harte, AVth blvbbered eies and handes vprered to heaven. To playe a pore lamentinge svneres parte. That would bleede streames of blvde to be fore- geven ; But ahe I I feare my eyes are dryene to drye. That thougth I would yet nowe I cane not crye. XI. YfF annye eye therefore cane spare a teare To fyll the welspringe yt mvst wectte my chekes, Ohe ! lett yt eye to this sade feast dravve neare. Refuse me not my hvmble souie beseekes. For all the teares my eies have evere weept. Are all to lyttell yf thaye had bene keept. XII I see my synes somoned before my face, 1 see thayre novnibe[rJ pase themoethes in sovne, I see y my contynvance in this place Cane not be longe, and all yt I have done, I see the Judge before his facce hath layde. At whose stearne lookes all creatures are afraide. of a g>uuin:. 121 XIII. Yif he be just^ my soule condempned is. And juste he is, what maye I then expecte. But vttere banyshment frome lastinge blysse. And Caynelycke leve a most vylde abiecte. He in his raige his brothers blovd did spille, I more vnkinde myne owne soules lyfFe to kylle. XIV. Ohe ! could my eyes sende trycklinge tears amayne, Neyere to ceasse tyll my eternall nyght. Ore telle these eye flovdes covld his marcie gayne. For my defavlte thence banishet me his sight. Then wold I blesse my happie tyme of cryeinge. But ahe ! to sone by barren springe is drieinge. XV. Thryse happie synnere was yt blessed Sainte, Who thougth he fell wth povffe of womans blast. Went forth and wepte wth many a bytter playnt. And by his teares did porches grace at last ; But wrached I have fallen one my accorde, Tenne thovsaund ty mes in syne agaynst my lorde ; XVI. Yet canne not straine one trewe repentant teare. To gayne the blyse frome wch my soule is banysht^ My flintye harte trewe sorrowinge doth forebeare. And from my sence all trewe remorse is vannysht^ 122 cri)e tamnttatwn For harte and sence are cloyed draggs of syne. And ibares no place for grace to entere in. XVII. No place dread Lord, vnlesse thye goodnes please. To pittie hym_, yt worst deserves of anye. And in thye tendeer mercye graunt hym ease. As thove to fore hast mercye showed to manye. Yet none of them cane eqvall me in syne, HoY»'e maye I then they mercye hope to wyiie. XVIIL The traytor Judas borne heire vnto perdicion, \\ ho for a tr) fie did his Lord betray e. In eqvall dome deserveth more compassion. Then my defavltes canne challinge anny waye ; He sold hy m once, yt once was all for gayne, I oftymes, yet lese then nothinge tayne. XIX. Tho blovddye mynded Jewes in fverye madde Vntill one Chryste there crvell raige was flede. In thayre fell raige yet more compassion had. Then I for whome his harmles blvde was shedde ; There hellyshe spight wtliin a daye was paste. My synfull fyeft doth all my lyffe-tyme laste. of a g)tnner. 123 XX For every stripe yt hefrome them did take^ A thousaund deadly synes have I commytted. And everye syne as depe a wovnde hath made^ As did the cordes wherewith my Christe v^as w^hyped; O hatful! caytyvfe ! homicyde most ville ! Thvse wtli his synes his pvere bloude to defile. XXI O syne ! fjrste parrent of manes evere wooe^ The destavnte even yt severes hell from heaven, Sences confovndere^ soules chife overethrowe, Gravfted by man^ not by the graftere geven^ Consvmyngecankere^wastinge sovles chyfe treasure, Only to gayne a momentes worldlye plessure. XXII. Happie were men yf syne had never byne^ Thryse happie nowe yf syne he wold foresake. But happier fare yf fore his syne He wold repent^ and hartye sorrowe make, Levinge this drovsse and flesly delectacion. To gayne in heaven a lastinge habitacion. XXIII. There is the place wherein all sorrowes dye. Where Joyes excedes all joyes yt evere were^ Where Angelles make contynewall harmonye. The myndsett free from care, mystrvst, and feare; 124 Ci)e lamentation There the} e alycke receve trewe contentacion. And happie mad by heavenly contemplacion. XXIV. Nowe see alasse ! the chavnge we make for syne, Insteed of Heaven, Hell is become or lotte. For blessed Sayntes^ we fendes and dampned benne^ For rest and fredome^ lastinge bondage gett^ For joye, content^ eternall love^ and peace^ Gryfe, hate^ dyspayre^ and jarres yt nevere ceasse. XXV. The worme of consyence still attendes on vs, Tellinge eache howere^ eache instante^ we shall dye. And yt or synes cane not be parted frome vs^ But where we are thaye thethere straite will flye, Styil vrginge this yt death we have deserved. Because we flede frome hym we should have served. XXVI What greater syne can touche an hvmayne harte. What hellishe fvrye can be worse tormented, "What svnere levesyt feleth not a parte. Of this sharpe plage, vnlesse he hath repented ; And yet repentavnce shewerly is but vayne, W thout full porpose not to syne agayne. XXVII. And is not this over follies shamfull erovre. of a ^imn. 125 To covett jt ch bringes wth it contempfe. And makes vs leve in feare, distruste, and terore, Hattinge at last the thinge we did attempt. For never sjne did yet so pleassinge taste. But Ivstfull fleshe felt loathinge when twas past. XXVIII. whines my wofuU soule yt well can telle In highest topp of synnes most freshe delyght, Allthougth my frayltie svfFere me to dwells Yet beinge past, I loathed it wth dispite ; But lyke the swyne, I feed my owne desiere^ That beinge cleane still covetted the myere ; XXIX. So greadie is manes beastlye appettite. To foUowe aftere dounghill plessures still. And feed one carryon lyke the ravenous kite^, Not caringe what his hvngry mave doth fill. But evere Ivstinge workes his wylles efecte, Wthout constraynt, controlment, or respecte. XXX. Ohe ! why should man yt bares the stampe of heaven. So much abuse heavenes will and pleasure ? Ohe ! why was cence and reason to hym geven. That in his syne cane never kepe a meassver ? 126 €1)0 Ilamentatton He knowes he most acoumpte for every sjne^ And yctt comj tes the synnes yt covntles beine. XXXI This to beholdj oh God ! it killes my soulle. But yt thye mercyes quyckenes it agayne. Oh ! here me Lord in bitternes of doalle^ That of my synes do prostrate here complayne^ And at thye feete wth Marrye knoke for grace^ Thougth wantinge Marryes teares to wett my face. XXXII Shee happie synnere sawe hire lyffe mysledd^ At sight whereof hire inw ard harte did blede. To W) ttnes this hire ovtward teares were shedd^ Oh ! blessed saynte^ and^ oh ! most blessed deade; But^ wretched I yt see more synnes then sheC;, Greve not wthin^ nor yet wepe outwardly. XXXIII. But w hen she had lost thye presence but a daye. The want was suche hire harte could not svstaine^, But to the tombe alone shee takes hire waye^ And thare wth sigthes and teares shee did com- playne, Noare from yt place once moved or stovrd wai shee^ Vntyll agayne shee gott a sig-ht of the. of a ^imtt m XXXIV. But I have lost thy precence all my dayes^ And still ame slake to seeke the as I should ; My wreched soule in wreched syne so stayes^ I hame yn-meet to see ye things I would ; Yet yf I covld wtJi teares thy comynge tend, I should^ I knowe^ as she fyndthe my frinde. XXXV. Teares are the keies yt opes the gattes to blysse. The holye watter qvenchinge hells qvycke fier. The oyntment twyxt God and oure amysse^ The angells drincke^ the blessed saintes desiere. The Joye of Chryste, the savlfe of greved harte^ The springe of blysse^ and^ ease of every smarte. XXXVI. The secound King of Israeli by succession. When wth Urias wyfe he had offended^ In bytter teares bewayled his great transgression. And by his teares fovnd grace, and so repented ; He nyght and daye in wepinge did remayne, I nyght and day to sheed on teare take payne. XXXVII. And yet my syne in greatnes, and in novmber. His fare excedes, howe comes it then to passe. That my repentance should be so fare vndere. And graces force deare God is as it was ; 128 cf)e lamentation Truth is, yt althougth I have more need. Do not as he so trulje weepe in deed. XXXVIII. Oh ! wherefore is my sellje soule so harde, Whje hame I made of mettall vnrelentinge, Whje is all ghostlje fellinge frome me barde.. Ore to what ende do I reserve repentinge, Canne Ivstfull fleshe, or flatteringe words, parswad me That I canne passe the powereofhym yt made me ; XXXIX No ! No ! the secrete syftere of all hartes. Both sees and knowes the deedes yt I have done. And fore eche dede will pave me home w^h smart ; No plase can serve his will decreede to shovne, I should deceve my selfe to thincke that he^ For synne wold ponyshe others and not me. XL. Ovre fyrst borne syre breedere of manes thrall. For one bare synne was of perfection refte. And all mankinde was banyshet by his fall From Paradise, and vnto sorrowes lefte ; Yf he for one, and all fore hym, feele payne. What pynyshment to me fore myue rcmayne. Of a B^inm, XLI. The Angeles made to attend one God in glorrje. Were thrvste frome heaven and onlje for one syne^ And in thought for so recordes the storrye^ For wch thaye morne in lastinge darknes benne ; Yf these once glorryous^ thuse tormented be^ I bassest wretche what will become of me. XLII. What wilbe come of me y^ not in thought. Not thought alone^ but eke in word and dead, A thovsaund thovsaund deadly synes have wrovght. And still do worke where at my hart doth bleed. For even nowe in this my sad complayntinge, Wth newe made synnes my fleshe and soule is stain*- ninge. XUII. Oh ! yt I were removed to some close cave. Where all alone retyred from my delyght, I myght my teares and sighes vntrobledhave. And nevere come in wreched worldlinges sight. Whose ille-bewychinge company doth bringe, Deepe provocaciones whence deepe daunger sprynge; XLIV. lUe companye the cavse of many wooes. The svgred baites yt hydeth poysoned Iiooke^ ISO €t)t iLamentatton The Rocke vnsene yt moste shippes overe throwes, The weepinge Crocodile yt killes wth looke. The readye steppe to rvyne and dec aye, Graces confovnderj and helles nearest waye. XLV. Howe raanye soules do perryshe by thy gylt, Howe many men wthout all feares, freqvent Thy deadly hantes where then in pleasures sitt, Takinge no care svche davngers to prevent. But leve like Beliales, vnbridled or vntamed. Not lokinge thaye shall for thayre faltes be blamed, XLVI. Alas ! Alas ! to wretchles do we leve. That careleslye do worke oure owne confvsion^ That to ovre wylles suche lybcrtye do geve ; A me ! it is the Deivelles solle illvsion, To flatter vs wth svche cence-pleassinge traynes. That he there by myght bjnd vs fyrst in chaynes XLVII. This well fore sawe good men of avncyent tyme, Wch mad them shvne occacion all of syne, Knowinge it was the novrse of every cryme^ And syrenlycke wold wrape fond worldlinges in^ Alewringe them wth showe of mvsike sovnde, Vbtill one synnes deepe sheylfe there soules be dround. of a Binmv. m XLVIII. But he is held no sociable man In this corrvpted aige^ yt shall refvse To keepe accovrsed company nowe and then^ Were but a foole, vnlesse he seeme to chvse There fellowshipe, and geve them heighest place^ That vylest lyve and fvrthest of frome grace. XLIX. But better it is beleve me in my triall^ To five suche helhovndes^ factors for the devill. And geive them leve to grovdge at yor denayall^ Then to partake w^h suche in syne and evill ; For yf y' God in justice then shvld slave vs From hell and horrore who alas ! could stayc vs. L. Good God ! the just man then as he hath spoken^, Should skarse be saved, O terrore vnremovable. What then should thay y^ nevere had a token,, Ore signe of grace, soules comforte most beho- vable^ But graclese leives and all good deades do hatt. What hope to them wch die in suche a state. LI. Oh ! who will geve me teares yt I raaye waylle^ Both nyghtes and dayes the danger I have past^ K 3 132 Cije iLamentatum My soule ! my soule ! tis mvclie for they avayle^ That thove arte gotten from those streightes at last^ 0 Jove ! but wth this joye mexe teares wthall^ That thowe hast tyme to saye^ Lord here my call. LII. 1 myght as otheres have, have perished, Amydes my synes and damnable delyghtes. But thowe deare Lord my sovlc hast cheryshed ? And brought it hometoloke on heavenly lyghtes^ Woe is me ! what thanckes, what servies can I render. To the yt of my saftye arte so tender. LIIL Nowe do I corse the tyme I evere went In synes blake path yt leadeth to dampnacion, Nowe do I hate the howeres I have myspent In idle vice neclectinge soules salvacion. And to redeme the tyme mysworne, I wyshe this hower I were agayne newe borne. LIV. i But vayne it is, as sayeth the wyse man. To call agayne the daj e yt once is past. Oh ! let me see what best is for me then. To gayne thye favore whylst this lyvfe doth last. That in the nexte I may mor worthye be. Even in the meanest place to wayte one the : of a g^mner. 133 LV. I will as did the prodigall soniie some tynies^ Vpon my knees wth hartye trewe contrycion,, And weepinge ies confesse my former crymes. And hvmblye bagge to the wth love submyssion^ That thowc wilt not of formere favltes detect me But lycke a lovinge father nowe respect me. LVI. Or as the w} ffe yt hath hire hvsbound wronged^, So will I come w^h feare and blvshinge cheekes^ Forgevinge otheres yt to the blonged^ And saye my Lord^ my Kinge^ and spovse most meeke^ I have not goone the covrse I ovght to gooe, Forgeive me nowe it shall no more be so LVII. Yet synce the world can wyttnes my abvse^ He hyde my face frome hym yt wytched myne eies, Those graclese eies yt had my bodyes vse^ Tyll they be wethered wth my weppinge cryes^ That when my wrinckles shall my sorrowes tell, The world maye saye I cryed out thovgth I fell, LVIII. Even thuse will I in sorrowes were rny breath, And spott my face wth never dienge teares^ And ille-aged wrynckles^ messengeres of death. Have porchaced mercye and removed my feares, K 3 134 €I)e iLamentattan, Jc. And then the world wth in my face shall reade. The pitious wracke my brydled Ivste did breed. LIX. And yt web was a pleassure to behould, Shalbe to me an evere grypinge payne^ All my mysdeades shall one by one be tolde^ That I maye see what tirauntes have me slayne. And when I have thvse mvstered them aparte^ I will on eache dysplaye a bleedinge harte. LX. And leste my teares should fayle me at most need^ Before my face ile fyxe my Savyoures passion^ And see how his most blessed syde doth bleed^ And note his death and tormentes in suche fashion ; As nevere man the lycke did vndertake^ For frelye he hath done it for my sake. LXI. Yff this his kyndnes and his mercye showne^ Cane not provocke me vnto tendere cryeinge^ Then will I backe agayne lament my owne, Myne owne syne cavse of this my crvell dyeinge, Vnd yf fore them myne eyes no teares can fynde^ Sygthes shall cavse teares^ these teares shall make me blynde. ilotes to ilamentation of a pinner. III St. i. 1. 1. silent nyght, Milton, Par. Lost, b. ir. 647, has silent night." see also Browne's Brit. Past. b. i. st. 4. and Carew's Secrecie protested. Selection 1810, p. 13» , r:t o:l if.!' r' . a\ JjJ-fr oV: St i. 1. 4. hire — her. See Tyrwhitt's Essay on the Ver* sification o/, and Glossary to. Chaucer. St. iii. 1. 3. slake — slack. , St. iv. 1. 6. dovle — sorrow, grief. Ywaine and Gaxs^in. S33. ^' Than Sir Ywayn herd the cry, And the dole of that fayr lady." St, T. The language of this stanza may be theoretically, but it is not practically, just. The sweet and delightful influence of Lotc hath diffused a brilliant fancy oyer the regions of Parnassus, in which Mount Olivet hath not par- ticipated. If we except Milton, the glorious luminary of Britain^ Poets haye never succeeded in diyine subjects ; I 138 refrain from giving the irrefragable language of Johnsom, and shall only observe that Bp. Hall, in one of his nervous satires, hath a hit upon the number of religious poets in his time. St. vi. 1. I. fovnd woldlings yevsse — fond worldlings habit [or cuitom."] St. vi. 1. 4. Skoweringe soules healthe,' and all trews piettie. Skoweringe, driving away. St. viii. 1. 1. Ille^tuorkinge T JSC) devourere of all grace, — Qu. Ille-zvorkinge face. Be God and seynt Denys, <^ Whanne he that wolde be a knyght, Ne wat noght what he hyght, " And ys so fayr of vi/s. Lyheaus Disconus, 67. Quho list to mark the Scottisch vyse.** Maitland Poems f p. 219. The explication, /ace, gathers strength from the occur- rence of the word, mouthy in the next line. St. xi. 1. 1,— . ;i Yff anye eye therefore cane spare a teare To fyll the welspringe yt mvst weete my chekeSy Ohe ! lett yt eye to this sade feast drawe neare. SouthwelPs St, Peters Complaint^ st. 8. edit, sine an. All weeping eyes resigne your teares to me : A sea will scantly rince my ordur'd soule." St. xii. 1. 2,— / see thayre novmbe[r'] pase the mocthes in sovne* 139 Milton, II Penseroso^ t. 7,— As thick and numberless As the gay motes that people the jwn-beams." i Consult Warton's curious note on this passage, in which he adduces several parallelisms. St. xiii. I. 4, — And Caynelycke leve a most vylde abiede^ &c, Southwell's St. Peter*s Complaint^ st. 87, — Cain's murdring hand imbrude in brothers blood, ^' More mercy then my impious tongue may craue." St. xiii. 1. 4. vyld abiecie^ A frequent -collocatioa in our early poetry, St. xiv. 1, 6. This line would read much preferable, if my were substituted for by, St. XV. 1. 1,— Thryse happie synnere wat yt blessed sainte Who thougth he fell wth povflfe of woman's blast. Southwell's St. Peter^s Complaint, st. 28,— a maiden's easie breath, Did blow me downe, and blast my soulc to death." St. xvii. 1. 4. to fore — before. St. xviii. 1. 1,— The traytor Judas bor?ie hetre vnto perdicion. Who for a tryfie did his Lord betraye. In one of the " Maitland Scottish Poems'' the betrayer of Lord Northumberland is assimilated to Judas : Judas, that sauld our salviour to be slaine, Ane vyler draucht nor thow did never draw.'* P. 232. 140 Had Christ himself bene in the Persey's rowme, I wait ye wald have playit Judas' pairt — Gif Cayphas had oflfert yow the sowme.'* St. XX. 1. 5, — 0 hatfull Catjtyvfe ! homicyde most ville. Paradise of daintie deuises, Brydges' edit. p. 37. O cursed caitife." Southweirs St. Peter^s Complaint, si. 10, — O matchlesse wretch ! O caytiffe most accurst." St. xxxiv. 1. 3. wrecked — wretched. Ywaine and Gaivin, 2939. " Thowe wreche unsely man, ^* Why wil thou her thi herber tane." Launfal, 394 — Than seyde the boy, Nys he but a wrecche.^* St. XXXV. 1. 3. amysse — n. s. fault. See Boucher's S'Mp- plement to Johnson, St. xliv. I. 4. The weepinge Crocodile, Paradise of daintie deuises, Brydges' edition, p. 65. the Crokadilly Which if a man aslepe maie see with bloudie thirst desires to kill. And then with teares a while gan zceepe,''* Southwell's Fortunes Falshoody st. 9, — Like weepinge Crocodile to scornefull enemies." St. xlv. 1. 5. But leve like Beliales, &c. &c. Milton has admirably described Belial and his followers. Par, Lost, i, 490, — " Belial came last, than whom a spirit more lewd Fell not from Heaven, or more gross to love 141 *^ Vice for itself : to him no temple stood " Or altar smok'd ; yet who more oft than he In temples and at altars, when the priest " Turns atheist, as did Eli's sons, who fiU'd With lust and violence the house of God ? In courts and palaces he also reigns. And in luxurious cities, where the noise " Of riot ascends above their loftiest towers, " And injury, and outrage : And when night " Darkens the streets, then wander forth the son« " Of Belial, flown with insolence and wine." Par, Reg, ii. 150. Belial, the dissolutest Spirit that fell, The sensuallest and after Asmodai, The fleshliest Incubus." St. xlvii. 1. 4,— ^nd syrenlycke wold wrap fond worldlinges iriy Alewringe them wth shewe of mvsicke sovnde, > V ntill one synnes deepe sheylfe there soules be dround, Southwell's St. Peter's Complaint^ st. 52, — These Syrens sugred songes rockte them asleepe." Gascoigne's Grief of Joy. M. S. Brit, Mus, " Alas, Alas, who sooner deathe deceave Then doe the Cirenes with their sugred songes ?" Beloe's Anecdotes^ t, ii. p. 299. / iHiscellaneous pieces. jHtstellaneous l^ims. praper for tt)t aueen. BOWE downe thie heavenlje ejes, O Lorde I Bowe downe thie eare alsoe^ And harken to the voice of them^ Whose sinns do overflowe. Withe humble hartes, we wretched weightes^ In wofull state do crave^ To pardon this our sinfull life^ And spotted soules to saue. And for the persone of our Prince^ Elizabeth by name^ Preserue long time in perfecte healthy Her subiects crave the same. L 146 In quiet peace to triumphe still,, Wth honour and renowne^ In prosperous state to governe vs^ And long'e to weare the crowne. O Lorde ! graunte this our iuste requeste^ Moste happie subiects then^ All Englishe hartes for this do praje^ And saje Amen ; Amen ; Finis : quoth. Tho. Wen (l^salm CXXXIII. umtateDO HOWE ioyfuU and how glad a thinge^ It is for vs to be^ Eache one wth other linckte in love^ And knitt in vnitye^ This vnitve is like the balme That fell on Arons heade^ Wch passed downe alonge his bearde^ And on his garments spred ; The sweet nes of this vnitye^ Vnto the heavens do flje^ Where three in one^ and one in three^ Abidsin vnitje ; God graunte for this sweet vnitje^ We also thankefuU be^ As our sweet Queen long time may raigne. In healthe and vnitye. Amen. Tho. Wen. 147 Defimcto Career^/' A PRISON is a place of care A grave for men alive^ A touchstone for to trie a freinde^ A place to make men thrive. Tho. Wen. ^onuett^ WHEN shall we meet in Floraes Bower ? To passe away some sporting hower^ Where none envying att our play^ Shall see us^ but ye Plannett of the day; Where pebbles chiding ye soft streames. Shall hush us into harmeles dreames^ Of what we lov'd^ for that thereby^ Waking we may inioy it really. When Aurora with her red Robes, brings Titan from his bed^ The morning chaunter calls together^ His winged mates to stay till you come th[ither,] And after many Anthems done^ To you theire goddesse, and the sun^ The bashful Queene bedwes each flow[er] With pearly drops^ to make a fragrant bowe[r.] L 3 148 Counfrej Groves are Cupid's courts. The best aboad of all his sports, Venus and her nimphs doe sollace Themselues in such, she loues a frondent Pallace ; Hether comes the harmles swajne. Whilst his flockes feed on je plajne ; Heere tell ye Birds in amorous groanes. Your harts are quickly wonn, but Men are drones ; Tell the lillies and ye Pine, That they are cropt for breast devine ; Tell the Roses as you cry. That you do live in his hard hart to dy ; And as y ou sigh informe ye ayre ; Y'are belov'd and yet y'arefayre. And when you've ended all your playnt, I live in haples love to gayne this saynt. But I were happy were she soe. Then I would be where she must goe. If by myselfe I take ye shoare, I'm thrice unhapier then I was before. Leaving her, then this lie doe, I'learne a bolder way to woo. And never saynt her because shee. More glorious is in her humanity. 149 an eptt: on \m galjn li'ggon, late situtimt of OUR Ejes have steept thy dust in Brine^ Thereby acknowledging thy Fine^ Noe mans lease here lasteth stilly We are tenants all att will^ But thou has gott an heritage^ That will outlast both time^ and age ! O ! may I have but such another Fine^ He nere wish to recover. 150 HENCE^ treacherous delusions, hence. That captivate my weaker sense. Doe not I all ready see. How you hang and faune on me. To vayle me quite In dispayres eternall night. The worlds tormenting Hell, Farewell ! Farewell ! Hence, Bacchus with thy sensuall swine. With thy French and Spanish wine. For I no more intend to sitt. Carousing in a drunken fitt. With thy deepe cupp. Till all the wine I drank come up. Or make me bigger swell. Farewell ! Farewell ! Hence, ye Pallats yt do wast. More to please your curious tast^ Then Midas' wealth, and Jason's fleece. In Indian spice, and Amber Greece, That every feast. Costs a royalty att least. Which he att length must sell. Farewell 1 Farewell ! 151 Hence, ye flaunting Gallants you. That are sworne of Marses crew. That vapour forth a frequent Damme, I'me your servant, hov^ youl hamee. Take but the wall, Hee'l straytway wrangle, stabb, and brawle^ And fight pell-mell^, Farewell ! Farewell ! Hence, yee midnight lights yt lead. Each amorist to his Lais' bed. With ye sum of all his gaynes. But the running of the raynes. Which increases, Rottenes and French diseases. As some of you can tell. Farewell ! Farewell ! c You that would appeare like Saynts, Whiles each puny Poet, graces. The redwhite colours of your face[s,] Which were layd. By some crafty chamber-mayde. With Lucifer that fell. Farewell ! Farewell ! 3 152 Eeflections on Mt. WHAT kinde of state, what age of Man ? Is voyd of carefull strjef ; When Man is borne, how doth he crie. To shew this wretched lief, In childysh yeres, how helpies then. Is he wUiout the aide Of Parents helpe, and of the rodd How oft is he afrajde. In youthful tynie what daingers oft Most hardlie doth he scape. How retchles doth he roune and race, Whyle he hath youthfull sape. In Mans estate such cares doth grow As cannot be exprest. Such trouble, strief, and restlesse woe. As seld can beredrest ; In age a werie iief begiunes. And strength doth then decaie. And all delight of worldlie thinges Doth \ade and weare awaie. And death at last that paies the debt, Wch nature bath assignde. In gtryving for the later gaspe, Mo.e^t doubtfuil domes doth finde ; 153 TJie body then lyke clodd of claie^ In earthlie mould remaines^ A place to rest from toylcfuU state^ The fi uite of all our paines ; Soe thus our lief is vaded soone^ Lyke flash of thunder light,, And eke wth tvvynkling of an eye, Farewell this worldes delig it; And thus I see that all the care^ And travell of this lief, Is nothing else but wearines^ Debate^ and mortall strief ; And all the glorie of this worlde^ Desire and synnfull luste^ Is soone by death desolved quite^ And turned all to duste. EARLY in the dawnynge off the day^ To thy lord God see yt thow pray^ Repent thy syn & thynke off thys^ Deathe^ Judgment^ Hell^ & Hevyn blys^ Wch ar the fowre last thynges off all ; To God therfore for marcy caJl^ Thatt after deathe thow mayst attayne To Hevynly joyse^ freed from the payne Of dredfull Hell, by Chryst hys blude Shed on the Crosse^ to do the good. \ Jtotes to rt)e Page 146. The first three couplets of (his piece are tran- lated from Psalm cxxxiii. ; the remaindur are original. Page 147. This has been attributed to Cotton by Sip John Hawkins in his life of the former. " Diirin^j his [Cotton's] confinement in one of the City Prisons, he inscribed on the walls of his apartment, therein, these ^' aflfecting lines, A prison is a place of care, " Wherein no one can thrive ; A touchstone sure, to try a friend ; ^' A Grave for men alive.'' Walton and Cotton's Complete Angler^ edit. 1808. p. 358. Cotton was not born until 1630. the M. S. by Wenman, is dated 1601. Consequently the latter may be considered as the author. 156 Page 147. When shall ::e meet in Floraes Bozcer, &c. This and the two succeeding poems are copied from the M. S. lly leaves of an old black letter volume of the six- teenth century entituled " The Englishe Secretorie.'* Maitland Poems^ p. 260. Phoebus' beamis bricht, Bad me go skip in Florals mantill grene Bannatyne Poems, p. 9. Throw the mirry fowlis arraony, And throw the reviris sound that ran me hy, On Florayis mantilll sleipit quhair I lay.'* In the former quotation mantill seems equivalent t« hoicer^ in the latter merely ground. Page 147. When Aurora with her red RobeSy &c. The reader will be reminded of the opening of ^lilton's Par. Lost, book v. Paradise of daintie deuises. p. 69. Bridges' edit, " When that Aurora blushing red^ &c.'* Page 147. The bashful Queene bedewes each flower With pearly drops. See several parallelisms collected in Selection from Careic^'^ p 50 ; to those, I add the following. Maitland' s Poems, p. 260. " The sylver drops of dew hang on the bewis Lyke orient per/e'." Herrick, Nott's Selection, p. 43. The den: -bespangling herb and tree." p. 112, lL^. The spangling dew dredg'd o'er the grass, ^* 157 p. 1 " leaves that laden are With trembling deic.'' Page 148. Countrey Groves are Cupid'* s courts^ &c. Randolph, Poems, edit. 4to. 1638. p. 101. " Lets enter and discourse our loves, " These are, my dear, no tell-tale groves ; There dwell no Pyes, nor Parrats there, ^' To prate again the words they heare. Nor babling eccho, that will tell The neighbouring hills one syllable. Being enter'd, let's together lye, Twin'd like the Zodiack's Gemini. A Fastorall Courtship. Page 150. Hence, treacherous delusions, hence, Beaumont and Fletcher's Nice Valour, " Hence, all you vain delights." Sylvester's Du Barf as. edit. 1621. p. 1084, Hence, hence, false pleasures, momentary joyes.** Page 150. Hence, Bacchus izith thy sensuall swine, Camus, 46. Bacchus, that first from out the purple grape Crush'd the sweet poison of misused wine." Page 150, — — — Arabergreece, That ecery feast Costs a royallfy at least. Amhergreece, was at this period much used in cookery, and, as a perfume. See notes of VVarton and Todd, in the latter's edition of Milton, vol. t. 407. vol. vi. 376. 158 Page 151. tjciis — a celebrated courtezan of Corinth, and the ijiost beautiful woman in Greece ; even Djinosthenes was so enamoured with a description of her person, that he Ti^i^ed Corinth for the pu/pose of being admitted to her bed, but, when the Orator found that her favours were to be purchased at the enormous sum of .^^oO. Kn^lish money, he departed, observing, that he would not buy repentance at so high a price. Carew's Rapture^ x\nd knows as well as Lais how to move Her })liant body in the act of love.'* Green's Fare'j:ell in FoUjj. " He that appaled with lust woulde sail in hast to Corinthum, There to be t:iught in Laijis schoole to seeke for a mistresse. Page 152. This and the following piece are published from a M.S. Avork of between three and four hundred pages, A treat he entytuled. the treasure of a good mynde: famijliarlie i^ritten to afrinde by R. Deni/s esquyor.''^ In prose, with some poetry commingled. Although not ex- actly relative, I cannot refrain froai transcribing the fol- lowing — Note yt the vith day of June in the xiiith yere ort the rayne off owr soveray lady quen elyzabethe, the lady bucler dyd pa>se away the manor off feyrford wt the aj:)urtenans w* all the landes tenyments k herady taments Avcii now or beli'ore have byn the inherytans off the said " lady bucler in ferfoid afforsayd" " to have k Id to her selfe & Roger lygon durynge theyrlyvcs k after theyr dyssease to the heyrs of her body Idwfiilly begotten »& for deffawt of suche yssew to water denys for term off hys lyffe & after sucsessyvely to 159 to [sic] every one off hys sons & in leeke sorte to hjs brother morys wyllyam & gylbart «Sc to theyr sons & for defFawte oJQF suche issew to his vnckles thomas denys francys denys & wyllyam denys durynge theyr thre lyves & after theyr dyssease to the heyre males off the sayd thomas & so the rest than to her heyr males & for def- fawte off suche issew to her Ryght heyrs" From a note at the end of the Tolume, it appears that the Author was shot, at the siege of Eunigande in Britany, May 1591. Page 1 52. youthful sape — sape^ probably a contractioa ef sapience. appendix-No. i It was my original idea to have prefaced the following detail with a rather copious dissertation upon the Origin of this once popular, and highly interesting miscellany; but that is now abandoned from perceiving it to be the intention of Sir Egerton Brydges,! to favour the public w ith a new edition of the work, which will doubtless contain every information that can be desired : In the mean time, I will endeavour to draw up a more accurate account of the vari- ous impressions, than any that has yet been published : In entering upon the task my chief assistance has been Her- jjert's JmeSj VVarton's History of Poetry, Warton's Ob- servations on Spenser, Censura lAteraria, Ritson's Bih~ liographia Poetlca, Todd's notes in his edition of Spenser, and the inspection of two copies of the work itself. M 1 . The ardent and generous zeal hich this gentleman hath shown in the renovation of our early literature (see the Censura LiterariOy 10 vols, and the i?n7isA Bibliographer) must render his name ever dear to the admirer of " time gone by." To him might, with strict justice, be appropriated the close of his own animated eulogy on *' honest Tom Warton. " " If we contemplate him as a poet, a scholar, " a critic, an antiquary, and a writer of prose, ages maypass away before bis equal shall arise." ii. APPENDIX.— No. 1. It is formed upon the model of " The hoke of Johan " BochaSf^ [Boccacio,'] desc?-i/ifig the fall of princes, prin- c esses, and other nobler Pynsoii, 1494, 1527 ; Totteil, 1554: and Wayland, 1558, folio 3. and the first edition, containing nineteen legends, appeared in 1559, " A myr- " rovrefor magistrates, zcherein may he seen hy example of others, zcith hozce greuous plages vices are punished, and howefrayle andvnstable zcorkUy prosperitie is founded, " euen of those zchom Fortune secmeth most highly to ''favour:' ^-Anno. 1559- 4to. b. 1. Marshe. fol. l60. The edition of 1563, ^. containing twenty-seven legends? was the second and has been analysed in the Cens. Lit. Vol. 3. p. 2, Sackville's portion was first added in this edition,^- as also a second part. "^^ The third edit. 1571.8. Fourth, 1574.9- Fifth, 1575.10- This latter had for its title, " The last pafte^^- of the Mir our for Magistrates, " zoherein may be seene by examples passed in this realme, 2. Chaucer followed tiiis plan ih his Monkes Tale. 3. A M.S. of this translation exists among the Harleian M. S. S. No. 1766. 4. Bibl. Steevensiana. Ilitson, B. P. 5. Bibl. Steev. 6. Censur. Lit. 7. Ritson. 8. Bibl. Sleevens, 9. Herbert. 10. Bibl. F-.rmer. 11. Mister Park ingeniously con- jectures it was called t':e last part, from the legends contained in it, being posterior in point of time to Higgins' and Blener-Hasset's ; I am sorry to differ from so able a judge, but Baldwin's edit, was entituled the last part in 1575, two jears previous to the appearance of Blener- Hasset's. I am inclined to believe it originated from the circumstance of Baldwin's and Higgins' editions of 1575, being published conjointly by Marshe. I have seen a copy of the two bound together. Ritson savs, that Baldwin had no connection with the work after 1563, and it therefore makes the above supposition probable. APPENDIX.— No. 1. iii. " zvith how greeuous plagues, vices are punished in " gseai[sic]'pTinces and magistratesy and hoze)e frayle " and vmtahle zmrldly prosperitie is foundej zohere " Fortune seemelh moste highly to faimir. New^y cor- " rected and amended. " Falex quern fa eiunt aliena pericula cautum. Imprinted at Loudon, by Thomas Marshe^ Anno, " 1575. Following the title, " Loue and line. To all " the Nobilitie, and all other in office, God graunte " wisedome and all thinges nedefull for the preseruation " of their estates. Amen. — Your's most humble, W. B." 4 pages. " A Table of the contentes of this booke." 2 pages. " A Briefe Memoriall of sondrie vnfortunate Englishmen. William Baldwin to the Reader." TPtAGEDIES. The fall of Robert Tresilian, and other his fellowes. Seven line stanzas, hy George Ferrers.^-- - - Fol. i. Mortimer slayne 7 /. s. hy Master Cavil. - W. Thomas of Woodstocke, murthered. 7 l- s. Ferrers viii. Thomas Mowbray, Duke of Northfolke died, 7 s. Churchy ard,^^' ------- xii. King Richard the Second murdered. 10 /. s. Ferrers, xvi. Owen Gledour starved. 7. s. Baldwin,^'^ - xix. Percy, Earle of Northumberlande beheaded, 7 I' s. Anonym.^^' ------- xxv. M 2 12. F6r some accouiit of Ferrers, see Brydges' Phillips' Theat. Poet. 13. See Brydges' Phillips' Theat. Poet. Ritson docs not enumerate this work among the productions of Churcbyarde in the Bibliog. Poetica. 14. See Brydges. i.r. APPENDIX.— No. 1. Richard, Earle of Cambridge beheaded, 7 /. s. Baldwin - xxviii. Thomas Earle of Salisburye slaine, 7 /. s. Baldwin, xxx. James the First murdred, 7 s. Anonym. - xxxvi. William, Duke of Siilfoike beheaded. 7. I. s. Baldzvin - -- -- -- -- -- xl. Jacke Cade beheaded, 7- l- s. Baldzvin - - xliv. Edmonde Duke of Somersete slaine, 7.1. s. Ferrers - -- -- -- -- - xlviii. Richard Plantageiiet^ Duke of Yorke slaine, 7 /. 5. Baldwin ----------- Iv. Lord ClifForde slaine, 7 s. Baldzcin - - - - Iviii. Lord Tiptoft, Earle of Worcester slaine, 7 /. 5. Baldwin - - _ - - ^ - _ - » }x. Rychard Nevyl Earle of Warwyke slain, 7 l- s. Baldzcin - -- -- -- -- - Ix v. Henry the Sixt murdred, 4 I. s. Baldzcin. - - Ixviii. George Duke of Clarence drowned, 7 /• s. Baldwin Ixxii. Edward the Fourth surfeted, 12 /. s. Anonym, Ixxx, Sir Anthony Wooduile, Lord Riuers beheaded, 7 I. s. Baldzcin - -- -- -- - Ixxxii Lord Hastings murdred, S I. s .Mast- Dolman^^. xciii. 15. Ritson Bays Baldwin; but by the followiug extract from Ms prose indnclion, it is clear that iie did not write it. *' As he [Ferrers] was proceedinge, be w as desired to stave by one, w hiche had pon- ** dered the storie of the Percies, who briefly sayde. To thende Bald- *' win, that ycu may inowe w hat to saye of the Percies, whose " storie is not all out of meraorie, (and it is an notable story) I wyll take vpo7i me the persone of the lorde Henry Percy Earle of Nor- " thumberlande." 16. " Evidently the worst in the collection," as some one has re- marked, says Ritson. APPENDIX.— No. 1. V. Maister Suckuil's Induction, 1 1. s. - - - - cvii. Henry Duke of Buckingham beheaded 7 l- s. Sackvilie - -- -- -- - cxvii. Collin gbourne executed, 7 ^- s. Baldwin - - cxxxi. Richard the Third slaine, 7- /• s. F. Segar - cxxxvii. The falle of the Blacke-Smith, and fatail ende of Lorde A\\deiey, 7- /. 5. Master Cauyll. - cxliv. Shore's \Vyfe 7 /• s. Churchj/arde'^^' - - - - civ. This work has folios clxii. A sixth edition was printed by Marsh 4to. b. L ld7S,^^' with t\^ o additional legends. in 157 5 J John Higgins following the example of Baldwin,20. published Thefinte Parte^-^- of the Mi- 17. A memoir of Sackvilie is in Phillip's Theat. Poet. edit. Rrydges and in British Bibliographer y Vol. 1. 18. " The writer of The Legend of Jane Shore was certainly not " deficient in genius." Sir Eg. Brydges. 19. In the possession of Mr. Gilchrist. Cens. Lit. Vol. S. p. 2. 20. Higgins' Induction, st. 4. " At leength by hap, I founde a booke so ead " As time of yeare or wynter could lequire, " The Mirroure namde, for magistrates he had " So fairely pende, as harte could well desire, " Which when I read, so set my harte on fire; " Eftsones it mee constraint to take the payne *' Not leave with once, to read it once againe And as againe, I vevv'd this worke wifh heede; VI. APPENDIX.— No. 1. rourfor Magistrates, contayning the falles of the first " infortunate Princes of this lande: from the comming " of Brute to the incarnation of our Saviour and Re- " dcmer Jesu Chrisle. Ad. Romanos, 13, 2. Quisquis " se opponit potestati Dei ordinationi resistit. Imprinted " at London, hij Thomas Marshe, Anno 1575. Cum " privilegio!^ Following the title, " The Contentes of the Booke." 2 pages. " Lone and line, To the Nobilitie and all other in *^ Cilice, God graunt the increase of wysedome, with all things necessarie for preseruacion of their estates. Amen. Your humble John Higgins." 5 pages. " J. Higgins to the Reader." 3 pages. The Authour's Induction, 6 pages The Tragcedie of Albanacte, the youngest sonne of Brutus, C'2 pages • Humber, the King of Hunnes, 5 pages Locrinus, the eldest soune of Brutus, 8 pages ■ Elstride, the concubine of Locrinus, 13 pages Sabrine the base child of Locrinus, 8 pages. " And marked playne cache party tell his fall; " Methought in mynde, I sawe those men in deede ; " Kke hovve they came, in order pleading all " Declaring well, this life is bat a thrall: *' Sithe those on whom, for fortune's gifts we stare^ Ofte sooniste sinke in greatest seas of care." 21. See nofce 11. APPENDIX.— No. i. vii. The Tragaedie of Madan, 4 pages. . Manlius, 5 pages. Mempriciiis, 5 pages. The Author to the reader,22. 3 pages. All the above are 7 line stanzas. The Tragaedie of Bladud,23. 4 line stanzas, 14 pages. 22. T\ro stanzas relative to the author's history may be acceptable, " And for mine age not thirty years hath past, " No style so ripe can younger yearesattaiue. " For of them all, but only ten the last *' To leame the tongues, and write I toke thepaiue, *' If I thereby received any gaine, *' By Frenche or Latine chiefely which I chose, *' These five yeares past by writing I disclose. *' Of which, the first two years I grammar taught : *' The other twaine, I Huloets work enlargde : *' The last translated Aldus phrases fraught *' With eloquence, and toke of Terence charge *' At Printers hande, to adde the floweres at large " Which wanted there, in Vdalles worke before: " And wrote this booke with other divers more," 23. A curious passage from this Tragaedie may be adduced as a pleasing specimen of the work. " Eke for because the Greekes did vse *' Me well in Grece at Athens late : *' I bad those foure I brought to chuse> " A place that I might dedicate. " To all the Muses and their artes, *' To learnings vse for euermore : " Which when they sought in diuers partei " At last they found a place therefore. Amidst the realme it lies welnighe, ** As they by arte and skill did proue : Vlll. APPExN'DIX— No.l. The Tragjedie of Cordila, - - 7 liue stanzas, 14 pnije?. • Morgan, - - - - 7 1. do. 5 pa^es. Forrex, - - - - 4 1. do. ti lya^vF.. Porrex, - - - - 4 1. do. 7 pages. • Kimarus - - - 4 1. do. 4 page ?. • Morindus, a bastard, 7 1. do. 6 pages. Nennius, - - - 7 1. do. 11 pages. The author to the reader, - - - - 7. 1. do. 4 pave-. The Tragasdie of Irenglas, nephew to Cassibelian, 8. l.s. - -- -- -- -- -11 pages^ The author in conclusion, 3 7 line stanzas, signed J. Hio^oins. The whole work 81 folios.24. " An healthfull place notlov\ e nor highe *' An holsome so} le for their behoue. ** With water streames, Si springs for welles : ** And medowes sweete, and valeyea grene : *' And woods, groaues, quarries, althing else, *' For stvdents weale or pleasure beiie. *' When they reported this to me, ** They prayde my grace that I would builde, ** Them there an Universitee, " The frultes of leaiTiing for to yelde. *' I buylte the scholes, like Attikes then, *' And gaue them landes to maintayne those *' Wliich were accounted learned men, *' And could the grcundes of artes disclose. *' The towne is called Stamford yet, *' There stande the walles vntill this day e, *' foundations eke of skoles 1 set, ** Bide yet (not maintainde) in decaye. 54. Not 16,% as stated in the Cciisura Lit. Vol. 3. p. 3. APPENDIX.— No. 1. A second edition in 4to. b.l. 1578.25. Iq 1587, 26.Higgins republished the work with several additional legends (of Jago, Pinnar, Stater, Rudacke, Brennus, Emerianus, Chirinus, and Varianus, of Caesar, Nero, Caligula, Guiderius, Laelius, Hamo, Drusus, Do- mitius, Galba, Otho, Vitellius, Londricus, Severus, Fulgentius, Geta, and Caracalla) and attached the origi- nal work of Baldwins, with some additions j^"^* the whole of its contents are seventy-three legends. " The Seconde parte of the Mirrour of Magistrates, " conteining thefalles of the infortunate Princes of this " La7ide : from the Conquest of Ccesar, vnto the com- " mi/ng of Duke William the conqueror Imprinted by Richard Webster, 1578.28. 4to. b. 1. 66 pages. It con- tains twelve tragedies,29. Guidericus, Carassus, queen Hellina, Vortiger, Uter Pendragon, Cadwallader, Sigebert, lady Ebbe, Alurede, Egelrede, Edricus, and king Harolde. 25. Ritson, 26. Bibl. Steevens. Ritson's Bih. Poe. 27. The Legend of Sir Nich. Burdet by himself; Francis Dingley wrote the " Battaile of Brampton, or Flodden Field," see Ritson, and Wehers ed\t. of Flodden Field ; Cardinal Wolsey by Churchyard, and James the Fourth of Scotland. 28. Herbert. 29. Ritson. N X. APPENDIX— No. 1. Richard Niccols, " esteemed eminent for his poetry in " his time/'30. digested the whole anew, omitted some, added more, ahered much, and published the book so amended in 16 10; it appears to have had new titles with different dates ;3 1. " The Falles of unfortunate Princes, Being a True Chronicle Historic of the untimely " death of such unfortunate Princes and men of Note, as have happened since the first entrance of Brute into <^ this island, untill this our latter age. JVhereunto is added the famous Life and Death of Queen Elizabeth, zcith a declaration of all the warresj battels, and sea- fights, during her raigne : Wherein at large is described " the battel of 88, zcith the particular service of all such ships, and men of note, in that action. Contre fortune nul ne peut.'' At London, Imprinted by F. K. for William Apsley, and are to be sold at his shop in Paul's church-yard, at the signe of the Parrot, 1619. 4to. pp. 87«5. That the work was held in considerable estimation by contemporary writers, will appear from the following list of imitations. 1. " Heir follozcis the Testament and Tragedie of " umquhile King Henrie Stezcarf, of Gude Memorie 1567' Imprentit at Edinburg be Robert Lekpruik.'* This is in l6 12-line stanzas, and has been reprinted by Dalyel, in Scottish Poems of the Sixteenth Century. 30. Wood. 31. 1619, 1621, Ceosu. Lit, Vol.3, p. 4. APPENDIX.-No. 1. XI. 2. " The re.zoarde of wickednesse discoursinsr the " sundnje monstrous abuses of zaicked and vngodly " worldelinges, in such sort set dozme and written as the " same haue been dyverscly practised in the persones of " popes f liarlotSy proude princes, tyrauntes, Momyish, " bysshoppes, and others, zoith a liuely description of their severallfalles and finall destruction. Verye profitable for all sorte of estates to reade and looke vpon. Nezoli/ " compiled by Richard Robinson, servaunt in householde " to the right honorable earle of Shrowsbiiry, A dreame " most jntt full, and to be dreaded: Of thinges that may be straiinge, " Who loveth to reede : In this booke let him ramige, His fancie to feede." Imprinted by W. Williamson, n. d. 4to. b. 1. [circa. 1574.] v3. The Mirror of Mutability, or principall part of the Mirror for Magistrates, describing the fall of divers famous princes, and other memorable personages* Selected out of the Sacred Scriptures, by Anthony Munday ; and dedicated to the Earle of Oxenforde, Imprinted by J. Aide, 1579? 4to. 4. The FlozDer of Fame, containing the bright Renozone and most fortunate rayne of King Henry VIII. Wherein is mentioned of matters, by the rest of " our Chonographers overpassed. Compyled by Ulpian " Fulzoell,'' S)X. S)C. 1575, 4to. The legend of James the Fifth of Scotland, is contained in this volume, extracts from which have been given by Mister Gilchrist, in the Censura Literaria. N £ Ml. APPENDIX.— No. 1. 5. " The glorious Life and honourable Death of Sir John Chandos" By William Wyrley, inserted in his " True use of " Armorie," 1592, 4to. See Censura Lit. Vol. 1. p. 148. 6. " T/ie honoiira hie Life and languishing Death " of Sir John de Gralhy Capitall de Buz" By William Wyrley. See Cens. Lit. 1. 148. 7. " The^ nine zcorthies of London ; explaining the honourable exercise of arines, ihevertues of the valiant, " and the memorable attempt of magnanimous minds. " Pleasant for gentlemejiy not vnseemely for magistrates, " and most profitable for prentices." Printed by T. Orwin, for H. Lownes, 1592. 4to. These \Yorthies 32. are 1. Sir Will. Walworth. 2' Sir Will. Sevenoake. 3. Sir John Bonham. 4. Sir John Hawkwood. 5. Sir Henry Pilchard. 6. Sir Thomas ^^ hite. 7- Sir Christ. Croker. 8. Sir Hugh Caver] ey. 9. Sir Henry ISIaleveret. The plan of the work — " Fame flies to Parnassus, and takes Clio uith her " to the Ely si an fields, where these champions are re- " quired to declare their own fortunes, which Clio records w ith her golden pen." Herbert. 32. These nine w orthies seem alluded to in the Paradise of daintie deuise.s, see Brydges' edit. pa. 112. *' Tlie worthies nine that were of might " By travaile wonne immortal praise, *' If they had lired like carpcl-kiiights *' Consuming idly all their dayes, Their praises had been with them dead, "^"here now abroad their fame is spread." APPENDIX.— No. 1. XUl. 8. Churchyard's Challenge, London, Wolfe, f593, 4to. This contains the Tragedie of the Earl of Morton and Sir Simon Burley. 9. The Legend of Humphrei/y Duke of Glocester, By Chr. Middleton. London: Printed for Nicholas Ling, 1600. 4t(). Extracts from this work by Mister Gilchrist, are in the third volume of the Censura Literaria, page 256. 10. " Fortunes Fashion, pour t rayed in the troubles of " the Ladie Elizabeth Gray, zvife to Edzmrd the Fourth, Written by Thomas Sampson, London: Printed by " William Jones," 1613. 4to. pp. 45. See Censura Liieraria, Vol. 4. 243. 11. Drayton s Poems, folio, I619. 8vo. no date. 8vo. 1637. In the folio edition, and octavo, 1637, are The Legends of Robert Duke of Normandy, Matilda, Pierce Gaveston, and Great Cromwell, the latter one is omitted in 8vo. no date, it had been previously published separately in 4to. Herbert has registered The Tragicall Legend of Robert " Duke of Normandy, printed by James Roberts for N. " Ling." l6mo. 1596. Vol. 2. 1033. Typ. Ant. This I presume is Drayton's, although I cannot see any mention of it in Ritson's Bibl. Poet. I cannot but lament that no edition of the zohole of Drayton's Poetry has been undertaken by some one of the numerous and able investigators into our early literature, of whom the present age may justly be proud. APPENDIX— No. 2. The earliest, and principal, antagonists in the contro- versy, relative to the unfortunate Mary, were Lesley, Bishop of Ross, and the celebrated George Buchanan. In 1569, was published anonymously, a small volume The Defence of Queen Marie's Honour,'^ the greatest exertions were used to suppress it, and strict enquiry being set on foot to discover the author and printer, it appeared that the former was Bishop Leslie, the latter one Wylkinson, it bears to be " Imprinted at London, in Flete- Strete, at the signe of Justice Royall, against the Black Bell, by Eusebius Dicaeophile. Anno. Dom. 1569." In 1571? appeared at Liege, a second edition very much much enlarged, " Morgan Philippe's Defence of the *^ Honour of the Right High Princess, Marie Queen of " Scotland ; with a Declaration of her Right, Title, and " Interest to the Crown of England. Leodii. ]571. (Ford's Cat. ISIanchester 1807.^ APPENDIX.— No. 2. XV. In 1580, Bishop Leslie translated the work into Latin, and published at Rheims, " Right, Title, and Interest of Marie Queen of " Scotland, and King James, by Leslie, 1584," [Ford's Cat. 1807] This is a translation from the Latin copy of 1580. " Ane Detectioun of the Doingis of Marie Quene of " Scottis twiching the murther of hir husband: and hir conspiracie, adulterie, and pretensit marriage with the Erie Both well, Imprentit at Sanctandrois be Robert " Leckprevik, An. Dom. 1572." About the same time was published, without date, place, or printer's name, the Latin copy, and the old English translation, [circa John Daye.] In the same year it was translated into French and printed in France, although the book itself bears the imprint of " Thomas Vvaltem Edinburgh," but there never was a Scotch printer of that name. Tlie English translation has been often reprinted, London 1652, I689, 1722. APPENDIX—No. 3. Account of the Wenman M.S. from which THE principal PIECES IN THE FOREGOING PAGES HAVE BEEN PRINTED. Tliis M.S. in small quarto, originally contained 55 leaves, but, at present there are only 52, tke loss occurs in the course of the French poem on Anne Boleyn ; there seem to be evidently three different hand writings ; all as far as page 75 was written by Thomas Wenman, whose name appears on the last page. Thomas Wenman, Bonvs- HOMO TiMENS DeVM J. H. S. Maria. 1601, Londini datum die 10 Jully. No. 1. — The Legend of Mary y Queen of ScotSy — Thirty- o leaves — forms the first poem in the present volume. No. 2. — A Prayer for the Queen — One page, three four- line stanzas. " Thou God that guids bothe heaven and earthe." This is printed in Hunnis' Poore Widowes Mite, page APPENDIX.— No. 3. xvii. 62, appended to his " Seven sobs of a sorrozifull Soule for Sinne." Edit. 1615, 24mo. and is there altered for the purpose of applying to James the First. No. 3. — A Prayer for the Queen — One page — printed in the present volume, page 145. ^N'o. 4. — Nine four-line stanzas, two pages ; this also is in Hunnis' Poore Widoioes Mite, page 39- " Like as the guiltye prisoner standes." No. 5. — Twenty-four lines, one page ; this is in Hunnis's Poore Widozces Mite, page 60, and Paradise of daintie deuises, page 97. edit. 1810. " Alacke, when I looke backe." No. 6. — Twelve lines, one page ; in Hunnis' Handfvl of Honisvckles. edit. 1 6 15. pa. 1. " O Jesu meeke, O Jesue sweete.'' No. 7. — Sixteen lines, one page — in the present collection, page 146. No. 8. — Tliirty lines, one page ; in Hunnis* Poore Widowes Mite, page 57. No. 9. — Defuncio carceris — one page ; in the present collection, page 147- No. 10. — The Lamentation of a Sintier. — eleven leaves ; The second poem in this collection, it is written in a different and older hand, than any of the fore- going pieces No. 11. — Traicte de dame Anm Bovllam iadis Royne d'Angleterre, par ung gentillome Fran^oys, 1601, imperfect from the loss of three leaves, this also is in a different hand w riting. I insert the first 10 lines as a specimen. xviii. APPENDIX.-No. 3. Qui d'unc haulte ardeur sainctement agites Hautains uellct santir qiielques diuinites, " Doiuet come parfaicts, eleiier dauantage " Ornes du tout puissant le front de-leur ouurage " Et a-'leteinite : qui eteniellement ; " De soy mesme an soy mesme a pris comancement, Peie de se grant tout, qui de son origine, " D u s€iit ueut respire de sa bcuclie-diuii e, " Nous formes an des corps plains de fragiliite Nous cousacres aton nom a-rimmortallite/' &c. Nos. 4, 5, 8c 8, are subscribed in the M.S. Thomas Wcnmcuij although printed in the Seven Sobs, &c. as Hunnis's. SUBSCRIBERS. B Bindley, Esq. Somerset-House William M. Bennett, Esq. Bath Mr. Builder, Bristol INIr. E. Bryan, Bristol D Mr. Diamond, Swansea William Dimond, Esq. Bath E Robert W. Elliston, Esq. Stratford- Place, Londou, Six copies F John Fry, Esq. Kepscombe-House, Devon Mr. Richard Fry, Bristol, large and small paper Mr. M. Fryer, Bristol, large and small paper G Mr. Gill, London Mr. J. M. Gutch, Bristol, large and small paper H Doctor Hamilton, Magdalen- Hall, Oxford, Two copiei Joseph Haslewood, Esq. London Mr. James Harris, Bristol Miss Harris SUBSCRIBERS. I W. H. Ireland, Esq. large pa}>€r M Mrs. Martin, Bristol O Mr. Joseph Overbury, Bristol. P John Pearce, Esq. Admiralty Mr. Richard Price, Jan. Biistol Mr. Priske, Biistol R Mr. Keid, Bristol John Rogers, Varlington- Lodge, Somerset S Rev. L. Sharpe, ]Mark-Lane, London Mr. Charles Spurrier, Bristol T ISIr. ^y. Terrel, Bristol Miso C. Wright. w. ERRATA. A few Errors ichick have been discovered on comparing the original M. S. with the printed sheets, are here pointed out. To those who are acquainted with the difficulty of refraining from early habits of orthography, in transcribing from ancient M. S. no apology can be necessary. In a few instances the vowel ii has been sub- stituted by mistake for the consonant v. J* age. Stanza. Line. Errour. Correction. 4 5 S Do shewe themseliies - so farr vnkinde Do she we theraselues to me so farr vnkinde. 5 8 - I - thou - - - you. 6 - 11 - 2 - pruve - - - procure. 7 - 12 - 2 3 insert comma at end of line, ditto. 8 - 17 - 1 - Ihou - - - you- , 11 - 25 - 5 6 dele comma at end of line, insert comma at princes. 26 - 1 thou _ _ - you. - 63 - 4 at end of line for , insert ; 30 - 83 - 5 pro - . hande. 41 - 114 - 7 not - - - - me. 42 - 117 - 5 6 dele comma, insert comma at suche. 43 - 121 - 7 insert period at end of line. 44 - 124 - 6 lothsomc - - - lothsome. 47 - 132 - 7 slave - _ - saye. 60 - 171 - 6 pill ... - perill. 92 3 powers power. 95 25 visible - risible. 104 4 St. cxiy. - - - St. cxr. U7 Sonnett, > St. 2S 7 bedwes - bedewes. Lately Published, Bi/ LONGMAN, HURST, REES, & ORME. — •©^•^ THE ENCHEIRIDION MEDICUM; or Young Practitioners Pocket Companion ; being a Conspectus of the London, Dublin, and Edinburgh Pharmacopaeias. By W. Hamilton, M. B. of Magdalen-Hall, Oxford^ in foolscap octavo, price 6s. boards. A SELECTION FROM THE POETICAL WORKS OF THOMAS CAREW, az'M « Life of the Author, and Notes^ by John Fry. price 4s. boards, in crown octavo. *' This is a chaste, elegant, and classical Publication. We have always encouraged Works of this description, and should be glad *' if the Editor would extend his critical labours to the Works of many ^' of Carew's contemporaries." British Critic for February 1810. Prepensing for Puhlication. A COMPLETE COLLECTION OF ALL THE PUBLISHED AND UNPUBLISHED WORKS OF THE LATE REV. W. HAMILTON. B. D. M.R.I. A. sometime Fellow of Trinity College, Dublin, and after- wards Rector of the Parish of Fanet, or Clondevadog, in the County of Donegal], Ireland ; icvV/z a Biographical Sketch of the Author, in 3 vols, demy octavo. BRITANNIA'S PASTORALS, together z^ith the re- maining Poetical Works of William Browxe, a new Edition, in 2 vols, demy octavo, illustrated zcith a Life of the Author and Notes. BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES OF EMINENT MEN, NATIVES OF BRISTOL, JVilliam Canynge to the Commencement of the present Century, drawn from the most authentic Sources of Information ; to be com- prised in two closely printed volumes, demy octavo. ENGLISH POEMS OF THE SIXTEENTH CEN. TURY, in one volume, closely printed, demy octavo. This will contain JVarner's Albion's England, Southwell's St. Peter's Complaint, Sfc. S)C. S)C. Illustrated with Bio- graphical Sketches, Notes, 6) C. &'c. E. Bryan, Printer, Corn-street^ Bristol. Date Due 1 BOSTON COLLEGE 3 9031 01213646_1 / BOSTON COLLEGE LIBRARY UNIVERSITY HEIGHTS CHESTNUT HILL. MASS. Books may be kept for two weeks and may be renewed for the same period, unless re- served. Two cents a day is ctiarged for each book kept overtime. 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