My yearly guerdon, e annuity, O liberal prince, ensample of honour, Contemporary with Occlere was JOHN LYDGATE (circa 1373-1460), a monk of Bury, born at Lydgate, near Newmarket. His poetical compositions range over a great variety of styles. His muse,' says Warton,' was of universal access; and he was not only the poet of the monastery, but of the world in general. If a disguising was intended by the company of goldsmiths, a mask before his majesty at Eltham, a May-game for the sheriffs and aldermen of London, a mumming before the lord mayor, a procession of pageants from the creation for the festival of Corpus Christi, or a carol for the coronation, Lydgate was consulted, and gave the poetry.' The principal works of this versatile writer are entitled, The Story of Thebes,' 'The Falls of Princes,' and 'The Destruction of Troy.' He had travelled in France and Italy, and studied the poetry of those countries. In the words of Warton, 'there is great softness and facility' in the following passage (spelling modernised) of Lydgate's 'Destruction of Troy': Description of a Sylvan Retreat. Till at the last, among the bowes glade, And soft as velvet was the yonge green: That I me laid adorn upon the grass, stone, As any gold, against the sun y-shone. We add a few lines in the original orthography of the poet--a passage in the Story of Thebes,' shewing that truth hath ever in the end victory over falsehood: Ageyn trouth falshed hath no myght; Fy on querilis nat grounded upon right! With-oute which may be no victorye, Therefor ech man ha this in memoyre, That gret pouer, shortly to conclude, Plenty of good, nor moch multitude, Scleight or engyne, fors or felonye, A fugitive poem of Lydgate, called 'The London Lyckpenny,' is curious for the particulars it gives respecting the city of London in the early part of the fifteenth century. The poet has come to town in search of legal redress for some wrong, and visits, in sucoss on, the King's Bench, the Court of Common Pleas, the Court of Chucery, and Westminster Hall. 1 Give remedy. 2 Too feeble to hold equal power in the field. Champartye, Fr. champ part. The London Lyckpenny. Within this hall, neither rich nor yet yoor Where Flemings began on me for to cry: Lay down your silver, and here you may speed.' And proffered me bread, with ale and wine, A fair cloth they gan for to spread, But, wanting money, I might not then speed. Of all the land it beareth the prize; 'Strawberry ripe, and cherries in the rise!' (3) Then to the Cheap I gan me drawn, Where much people I saw for to stand; Here is Paris thread, the finest in the land!' Then went I forth by London Stone, (5) Drapers much cloth me offered anon; Then comes me one cried 'Hot sheep's feet;' One cried mackerel, rushes green, another gan greet; (6) One bade me buy a hood to cover my head; But, for want of money, I might not be sped. Then I hied me unto East-Cheap, One cries ribs of beef, and many a pie; Pewter pots they clattered on a heap; There was harp, pipe, and minstrelsy; Yea by cock! nay by cock! some began to cry; Some sung of Jenkins and Julian for their meed; But, for lack of money, I might not speed. Then into Cornhill anon I yode, Where was much stolen gear among; I saw where hung mine owne hood, To buy my own hood I thought it wrong; I knew it well, as I did my creed; But, for lack of money, I could not speed. The taverner took me by the sleeve, 'Sir,' sith he, will you our wine assay?' 1 Koopen (Flem.) is to buy. 2 Took notice; paid attention. 3 On the twig. 4 Offer. 5 A fragment o Loudon Stone is still preserved in Cannon Street, formerly called Canwick or Candlewick Street. It is built into the street-wall of the church of St. Swithin. 6 Cry. 6 I answered: That can not much me grieve; And, wanting money, I could not speed'; &c. ALEXANDER BARCLAY AND STEPHEN HAWES. The Ship of Fools' and the 'Pastime of Pleasure' are the only poetical works of any importance in the Reign of Henry VII. ALEXANDER BARCLAY (who was in orders, and survived till 1552) wrote several allegorical pieces and some eclogues-the latter supposed to be the first compositions of the kind attempted in the English language. But his greatest work is his 'Ship of Fools,' printed in 1509. It is a translation from the German of Brandt, with additions from various quarters, including satirical portraits and sketches by Barclay of his own countrymen. His ship is freighted with fools of all kinds, but their folly is somewhat dull and tedious. Barclay, however, was an improver of the English language. The Book-collector, or Bibliomaniac.-From Barclay's 'Ship of Fools.' For to have plenty is a pleasant thing In my conceit, and to have them aye in hand, But what they mean, do I not understand. But yet I have them in great reverence And honour, saving them from filth and ordure, Full goodly bound in pleasant coverture Of damask, satin, or else of velvet pure; I keep them sure, fearing lest they should be lost, STEPHEN HAWES was an allegorical poet of much more power. His 'Pastime of Pleasure, or the Historie of Grande Amour and La Bel Pucel,' was written in 1506, dedicated to King Henry-in whose court the poet held the office of groom of the privy-chamber---and printed in 1517 by Wynkyn de Worde. Two more editions were called for during the same century, in 1554 and 1555, and from this time it was known only to black-letter readers until, in 1846, it was reprinted by Mr. Wright for the Percy Society; but even the convenience of easy access and modern type has not made Hawes much better known. His poem is long, and little interest is felt in his personified virtues. The Pastime of Pleasure,' however, is a work of no ordinary poetical talent. It is full of thought, of ingenious analogy, and occasionally of striking allegory. A few stanzas, stripped of the disused spelling, will shew the state of the language after Lydgate, of whom Hawes was a great admirer. The Temple of Mars. Beside this tower of old foundation, There was depainted all about the wall Beholding Mars how wonderfully he stood O prince of honour and of worthy fame! O redoubted courage, the causer of their name, In books written, as ye well may see So give me grace right well to recure The power of fame that shall so long endure.' JOIN SKELTON. Barclay, in his 'Ship of Fools,' alludes to JOHN SKELTON, who was decked as poet-laureate at Oxford: If they have smelled the arts trivial, He was a he was Skelton is certainly more of a trivial than a heroical poet. satirist of great volubility, fearlessness, and scurrility. In attacking Cardinal Wolsey, for example, he alludes to his 'greasy genealogy. The clergy were the special objects of his abuse, as with most of the old satirists. So early as 1483, Skelton appeared as a satirist; laureated in Oxford in 1489; and to escape from the vengeance of Wolsey, he took shelter in the sanctuary of Westminster Abbey, where he resided till his death in 1529. Skelton is a sort of rhyming Rabelais-as indelicate and gross, which with both was to some extent necessary as a cover to their satire. The copiousness of Skel ton's language, and his command of rhyme in short rattling verses, prove the advance of the language. The works of Skelton were edited by the Rev. A. Dyce, and printed in 1843. The most poetical of his productions is entitled 'Philip Sparrow,' an elegy on the death of a pet bird. A few lines from his Colin Clout' will shew the torrent-like flow of his doggerel rhymes: Thus I, Colin Clout, A Satire on the Clergy. And wandering as I walk, A straw for God's curse! Is but a hermoniac, Our barons are so bold, With gold all be-trapped, (God wot to their great pains) Their stirrups of mixed gold begared, There may no cost be spared. Their moils gold doth eat, Their neighbours die for meat What care they though Gill sweat, The poor people they yoke To hear the people jangle Cardinal Wolsey. Into a mouse-hole they would Like as many sheep, He plucks them by the hood, And shakes them by the ear, But to his sentence must accord; Skelton's serious poetry is greatly inferior to his ludicrous and satirical; but the following effusion of gallantry is not unworthy the pen of a laureate : Merry Margaret, As midsuminer flower, To Mrs. Margaret Hussey. Or hawk of the tower; So maidenly, |