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 feates,
I conquered with my hand.

Ireland, Denmarke, Norwaye,
These countryes wan I all;
Iseland, Gotheland, and Swetheland;
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.

25

30

335

40

And Lucyus, the emperour of Rome,

45

I brought to deadly wracke;

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

V. 39, Froland field. MS. Froll, according to the Chronicles, was a

Roman knight, governor of Gaul.

V. 41, Danibus. MS.

V. 49, of Pavye. MS.

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,

60

How Mordred had oppressd the crowne,
What treason he had wrought

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

65

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

And soone at Sandwiche I arrivde,

Where Mordred me withstoode :

70

But yett at last I landed there,

With effusion of much blood.

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

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], entitled "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.

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.

Ver. 4, causse. MS.

5

10

15

So he lykewise, that goes about
To please eche eye and every eare,
Had nede to have withouten doubt

A golden gyft with him to beare;
For evyll report shall be his gaine,
Though he bestowe both toyle and paine.

;

20

God grant eche man one to amend

25

God send us all a happy place;

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), part iv. (2).

GLASGERION was a kings owne sonne,

And a harper he was goode;

He harped in the kings chambere,
Where cuppe and caudle stoode,

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

5

And then bespake the kinges daughter,

And these wordes thus shee sayd:

"Strike on, strike on, Glasgerion,
Of thy striking doe not blinne;

10

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

Ver. 6, wood. MS.

"Faire might he fall," 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 Glasgerion,

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.'

15

20

25

"O master, master," then quoth hee,
"Lay your head downe on this stone;
For I will waken you, master deere,

30

Afore it be time to gone."

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

A coller he cast upon his necke,

Hee seemed a gentleman.

And when he came to the ladyes chamber,

He thrild upon a pinn:1

The lady was true of her promise,

35

And rose and lett him inn.

He did not take the lady gaye

To boulster nor to bed:

'Nor thoughe hee had his wicked wille,

A single word he sed.'

V. 16, harte. MS.

40

1 This is elsewhere expressed 'twirled the pin,' or 'tirled at the pin,' [see b. viii. s. vi. v. 3,] and seems to refer to the turning round the button on the outside of a door, by which the latch rises, still used in cottages.