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How hard is my doom to work !
Much is my woe!
With coif of gold,
I ken Sir Roger from afar,
Tripping over the lea :
Is more than me.
From every beam a seed of life doth fall.
Methinks the cocks are 'ginning to grow tali
This is alike our doom : the great, the sniall, Alust wither and be shrunken by death's dart.
See, the sweet floweret hath no sweet at all ; It with the rank weed beareth equal part.
The craven, warrior, and the wise be blent Alike to dry away with those they did lament.
All-a-boon, Sir Priest, all-a-boon!
By your priestship, now say unto me,
Why should he than me be more great
Attentively look o'er the sun-parched dell ;
This withered floweret will a lesson tell :
It rose, it blew, it flourished and did well, Looking askance upon the neighbour green ;
Yet with the green disdained its glory fell, – Eftsoons it shrank upon the day-burnt plain.
Did not its look, the while it there did stand,
To crop it in the bud move some dread hand ? Such is the way of life : the lord's rich rent'
Moveth the robber him therefore to slay. If thou hast ease, the shadow of content,
Believe the truth, there's none more whole than thee
Thou workest : well, can that a trouble be ?
Couldst thou the secret part of spirits see,
But let me hear thy way of life, and then
On every Saint's high-day
With maidens on the green.
Whose boundless branches reach afar to sight?
It shaketh dire, in dole and much affright;
1 The loverde's ente' (lord's purse).-Chatterton's text and gloss. What while the humble floweret lowly dight Standeth unhurt, unquashed by the storm.
Such picture is of Life : the man of might
Thyself, a floweret of a small account,
(From Ella; a Tragical Interlude.)
· First Minstrel.
The budding floweret blushes at the light :
The meads are sprinkled with the yellow hue ; In daisied mantles is the mountain dight;
The slim? young cowslip bendeth with the dew ; The trees enleafèd, into heaven straught, When gentle winds do blow, to whistling din are brought
The evening comes and brings the dew along ;
The ruddy welkin sheeneth to the eyne ;
Young ivy round the doorpost doth entwine ;
So Adam thought, what time, in Paradise,
All heaven and earth did homage to his mind.
As instruments of joy are kind with kind.
1 Nesh,' tender.-Chatterton.
With his gold hand gilding the falling leaf,
Bearing upon his back the ripened sheaf ; When all the hills with woody seed are white; When levin-fires and gleams do meet from far the sight ;
When the fair apples, red as even-sky,
Do bend the tree unto the fruitful ground;
Do dance in air and call the eyes around ;
Angels are wrought to be of neither kind ;
Angels alone from hot desire are free;
That, without woman, cannot stillèd be :
Women are made not for themselves but man, —
Bone of his bone and child of his desire ;
Y-wrought with much of water, little fire ;
Albeit, without women, men were peers
To savage kind, and would but live to slay ;
Dowered with angelic joy, true angels they?
Tere,' health.--Chatterton. : Tochelod yn Angel joie heie (they) Angeles bee.'-Chatterton
THE ACCOUNTE OF W. CANYNGE'S FEAST.
BY WILLIAM CANYNGE.
Thorowe the halle the bell han sounde ;
Byelecoyle? doe the Grave beseeme;
Ande snoffelle“ oppe the cheorte steeme.
Syke keene theie ate ; the minstrels plaie,
The dynne of angelles doe they keepe:
Butte nodde yer thankes ande falle aslape.
O sing unto my roundelay,
O drop the briny tear with me,
My love is dead,
All under the willow-tree.
The above piece is given in Chatterton's original spelling, as a sample. ? Fair welcome.-Chatterton. (Bel-acceuil.— Tyrwhitt.) 3 Becomes.-Chatterton.
* Snuff up.-Chatterton. 5 Cheerful.-Chatterton.
• The names of Canynge's favourite poets and friends, as deve 'sped in Chatterton's Rowleian system.