Who for their deeds and martiall feates,
As bookes done yett record,

Amongst all other nations

Wer feared throwgh the world.

20

And in the castle off Tyntagill
King Uther mee begate
Of Agyana a bewtyous ladye,
And come of 'hie' estate.

And when I was fifteen yeere old,
Then was I crowned kinge:
All Brittaine that was att an upròre,
I did to quiett bringe.

And drove the Saxons from the realme,
Who had opprest this land;

All Scotland then throughe manly feats
I conquered with my hand.

Ireland, Denmarke, Norway,

These countryes wan I all;
Iseland, Gotheland, and Swethland;
And made their kings my thrall.

I conquered all Gallya,

That now is called France;

And slew the hardye Froll in feild
My honor to advance.

And the ugly gyant Dynabus

Soe terrible to vewe,

That in Saint Barnards mount did lye,
By force of armes I slew :

And Lucyus the emperour of Rome
I brought to deadly wracke;

And a thousand more of noble knightes
For feare did turne their backe:

Ver. 23. She is named "Igerna " in the old Chronicles. Ver. 24. his. MS. Ver. 39. Froland field. MS. Froll according to the Chronicles was a Roman knight governor of Gaul. Ver. 41. Danibus. MS.

Five kinges of 'paynims' I did kill
Amidst that bloody strife;
Besides the Grecian emperour
Who alsoe lost his liffe.

Whose carcasse I did send to Rome

Cladd poorlye on a beere ;

And afterward I past Mount-Joye

The next approaching yeere.

Then I came to Rome, where I was mett

Right as a conquerour,

And by all the cardinalls solempnelye

I was crowned an emperour.

One winter there I made abode :

Then word to mee was brought

Howe Mordred had oppressd the crowne :
What treason he had wrought

Att home in Brittaine with my queene;
Therfore I came with speede

To Brittaine backe, with all my power,
To quitt that traiterous deede:

And soone at Sandwiche I arrivde,
Where Mordred me withstoode :

But yett at last I landed there,
With effusion of much blood.

For there my nephew sir Gawaine dyed,
Being wounded in that sore,

The whiche sir Lancelot in fight

Had given him before.

Thence chased I Mordered away,
Who fledd to London right,
From London to Winchester, and
To Cornewalle tooke his flyght.

And still I him pursued with speed
Till at the last wee mett:

Ver. 49, of Pavye. MS.

50

55

60

65

70

75

80

Wherby an appointed day of fight
Was there agreed and sett.

Where we did fight, of mortal life
Eche other to deprive,

Till of a hundred thousand men
Scarce one was left a live.

There all the noble chivalrye
Of Brittaine tooke their end.
O see how fickle is their state
That doe on feates depend!

There all the traiterous men were slaine
Not one escapte away;

And there dyed all my vallyant knightes.
Alas! that woefull day!

Two and twenty yeere I ware the crowne
In honor and great fame;
And thus by death was suddenlye
Deprived of the same.

VI.

A DYTTIE TO HEY DOWNE.

COPIED from an old MS. in the Cotton Library, [Vesp. A. 25.] intitled, "Divers things of Hen. viij's time."

WHO sekes to tame the blustering winde,
Or causse the floods bend to his wyll,

Or els against dame nature's kinde

To'change' things frame by cunning skyll : That man I thinke bestoweth paine,

Thoughe that his laboure be in vaine.

Ver. 92. perhaps "fates."

Ver. 4. causse. MS.

100

95

90

85

Who strives to breake the sturdye steele,
Or goeth about to staye the sunne;
Who thinks to causse an oke to reele,

Which never can by force be done :
That man likewise bestoweth paine,
Thoughe that his laboure be in vaine.

Who thinks to stryve against the streame,
And for to sayle without a maste;
Unlesse he thinks perhapps to faine,
His travell ys forelorne and waste;
And so in cure of all his paine,
His travell ys his cheffest gaine.

So he lykewise, that goes about

To please eche eye and every eare,
Had nede to have withouten doubt
A golden gyft with hym to beare;
For evyll report shall be his gaine,
Though he bestowe both toyle and paine.

God grant eche man one to amend ;
God send us all a happy place;

25

And let us pray unto the end,

That we may have our princes grace:

Amen, amen! so shall we gaine

A dewe reward for all our paine.

30

VII.

GLASGERION.

AN ingenious Friend thinks that the following old Ditty (which is printed from the editor's folio MS.) may possibly have given birth to the Tragedy of "the Orphan," in which Polidore intercepts Monimia's intended favours to Castalio.

See what is said concerning the hero of this song, (who is celebrated by Chaucer under the name of "Glaskyrion ") in the Essay prefixed to Vol. i. Note H. Pt. iv. (2.)

GLASGERION was a kings owne sonne,
And a harper he was goode :
He harped in the kinges chambere,
Where cuppe and caudle stoode.

And soe did hee in the queens chamber,
Till ladies waxed' glad.'

And then bespake the kinges daughter;
And these wordes thus shee sayd.

"Strike on, strike on, Glasgèrion,

Of thy striking doe not blinne:

Theres never a stroke comes oer thy harpe,
But it glads my hart withinne."

"Faire might he fall, ladye," quoth hee,
"Who taught you nowe to speake!
I have loved you, ladye, seven longe yeere
My minde I neere durst breake."

"But come to my bower, my Glasgeriòn,
When all men are att rest:

As I am a ladie true of my promise,
Thou shalt bee a welcome guest."

Home then came Glasgèrion,
A glad man, lord! was hee.

And, "come thou hither, Jacke my boy;
Come hither unto mee.

For the kinges daughter of Normandye
Hath granted mee my boone:
And att her chambere must I bee
Beffore the cocke have crowen."

"O master, master," then quoth hee,
"Lay your head downe on this stone:
For I will waken you, master deere,
Afore it be time to gone."

But up then rose that lither ladd,
And hose and shoone did on :

Ver. 6, wood. MS.

Ver. 16. harte. MS.