Six Centuries of English Poetry Part 42

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So, from the hills above on the other side, Through the wide lawns they gan to take their course.

The harts likewise, in troops taking their flight, Raising the dust, the mountain-fast forsake.

The child Iulus, blithe of his swift steed Amids the plain, now p.r.i.c.ks by them, by these; And to the encounter wisheth oft, in mind, The foaming boar instead of fearful beasts, Or lion brown, might from the hill descend.

NOTE.

This short extract is given as a sample of the first blank verse written in the English language. The spelling has been modernized.



A SONNET.

DESCRIPTION AND PRAISE OF HIS LOVE GERALDINE.

From Tuscan' came my lady's worthy race; Fair Florence was some time their ancient seat; The western isle, whose pleasant sh.o.r.e doth face Wild Camber's cliffs, did give her lively heat: Fostered she was with milk of Irish breast; Her sire an earl; her dame of princes' blood: From tender years, in Britain she doth rest With king's child, where she tasteth costly food.

Hunsdon did first present her to my een: Bright is her hue, and Geraldine she hight: Hampton me taught to wish her first for mine: And Windsor, alas, doth chase me from her sight.

Her beauty of kind, her virtues from above; Happy is he that can obtain her love.

ON THE DEATH OF SIR THOMAS WYATT.

Wyatt resteth here that quick could never rest: Whose heavenly gifts increased by disdain, And virtue sank the deeper in his breast; Such profit he by envy could obtain.

A head where wisdom mysteries did frame, Whose hammers beat still in that lively brain, As on a st.i.the where that some work of fame Was daily wrought, to turn to Britain's gain.

A hand that taught what might be said in rhyme; That reft Chaucer the glory of his wit; A mark, the which (unperfected for time) Some may approach, but never none shall hit.

An eye whose judgment none effect could blind, Friends to allure and foes to reconcile, Whose piercing look did represent a mind With virtue fraught reposed void of guile.

A heart where dread was never so imprest To hide the thought that might the truth advance; In neither fortune lost, nor yet represt, To swell in wealth, or yield unto mischance.

A valiant corpse, where force and beauty met, Happy alas, too happy but for foes, Lived, and ran the race that nature set Of manhood's shape, when she the mould did lose.

Thus for our guilt this jewel have we lost; The earth his bones, the heavens possess his ghost.

BIOGRAPHICAL NOTES.

WYATT and SURREY are usually named together as the most ill.u.s.trious poets of the earlier part of the sixteenth century. J. Churton Collins calls them, not inaptly, "the Dioscuri of the Dawn." "They inaugurated,"

he says, "that important period in our literature known as the Era of Italian Influence, or that of the Company of Courtly Makers--the period which immediately preceded and ushered in the age of Spenser and Shakespeare." It is to them that we are indebted for the sonnet: they were indeed the founders of our lyrical poetry. Jonson, Herrick, Waller, Cowley, and Suckling found inspiration in their ditties. Surrey's translation of the second and fourth books of Virgil's "aeneid" (1552) is the earliest specimen of blank verse in our language.

THOMAS WYATT was born at Allington Castle in 1503, and in his youth was a prominent and very popular member of the court of Henry VIII. He was knighted in 1536, and in 1537 became high sheriff of Kent. In April of the same year he was sent as amba.s.sador to Spain, and in 1539-40 was with the court of Charles V. in the Low Countries. Returning to England he lived for the next two years in retirement, and died at Sherborne in 1542.

HENRY HOWARD, EARL OF SURREY, was born about 1517, and, like his friend Wyatt, pa.s.sed his youth at the court of Henry VIII. He served in France in 1540, and again in 1544-46. After taking Boulogne, he became its governor; but, on account of defeat soon afterwards at St. Etienne, he was recalled to England by Henry VIII. His comments upon this action of the king caused his arrest and imprisonment in the Tower. A charge of high treason was preferred against him for having quartered the royal arms with his own, and he was beheaded on Tower Hill, January 21, 1547.

Ballads.

WALY, WALY.

O waly,{1} waly, up the bank, O waly, waly, doun the brae,{2} And waly, waly, yon burn-side,{3} Where I and my love were wont to gae!

I lean'd my back unto an aik, I thocht it was a trustie tree, But first it bow'd and syne{4} it brak',-- Sae my true love did lichtlie{5} me.

O waly, waly, but love be bonnie A little time while it is new!

But when it's auld it waxeth cauld, And fadeth awa' like the morning dew.

O wherefore should I busk{6} my heid, Or wherefore should I kame my hair?

For my true love has me forsook, And says he'll never lo'e me mair.

Noo Arthur's Seat{7} sall be my bed, The sheets sall ne'er be press'd by me; Saint Anton's well sall be my drink; Since my true love's forsaken me.

Martinmas wind, when wilt thou blaw, And shake the green leaves off the tree?

O gentle death, when wilt thou come?

For of my life I am wearie.

'Tis not the frost that freezes fell, Nor blawing snaw's inclemencie, 'Tis not sic cauld that makes me cry; But my love's heart grown cauld to me.

When we cam' in by Glasgow toun, We were a comely sicht to see; My love was clad in the black velvet, And I mysel' in cramasie.

But had I wist before I kiss'd That love had been so ill to win, I'd lock'd my heart in a case o' goud, And pinn'd it wi' a siller pin.

Oh, oh! if my young babe were born, And set upon the nurse's knee; An' I mysel' were dead and gane, And the green gra.s.s growing over me!

NOTES.

"This is a very ancient song," says Bishop Percy, "but we can only give it from a modern copy." It is often printed as part of a ballad relating to the history of Lord James Douglas and of the Laird of Blackwood. The lament is that of a beautiful lady whose fortunes were connected with those of Lord Douglas.

1. =waly.= An interjection denoting grief.

2. =brae.= Hillside.

3. =burn-side.= Brook-side.

4. =syne.= Then.

5. =lichtlie.= Slight, undervalue.

Six Centuries of English Poetry Part 42

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