RICHARD CORBET, "wittie Bishop Corbet," was born in the village of Ewell in Surrey, in the year 1582; his father, of whom Ben Jonson spoke in terms of high praise, was "either by taste or trade," a gardener. His son was educated at Westminster, and elected thence a student of Christ Church, Oxford; where he took his degree in 1605, and entered into holy orders. In 1612, he was deputed, as one of the Proctors of the University, to pronounce a funeral oration on the death of Henry Prince of Wales. Having rapidly obtained ecclesiastical promotion, and, by his eloquence and his wit, succeeded in greatly gratifying the humour of James the First, in 1629 he was elected Bishop of Oxford; and in 1632, translated to the see of Norwich. He died in July, 1635. He was distinguished as "the witty Bishop," yet of "no destructive nature, to any who offended him, counting himself plentifully repaired with a jest upon him;" but it must be admitted that he was often more merry than wise; and not unfrequently forgetful of the sacredness of his high office. The records that have been preserved of his pleasant sayings would go near to fill a volume. It appears that he could seldom control his "fun," either with reference to time or place. On one occasion, while his reverence was confirming, and the country people pressing forward to witness the ceremony, he said "beare off there, or I'll confirm ye with my staffe;" on another, while laying hands on a bald man he asked for "some dust," to keep his hand from slipping; and on another, observing before him a man with a large beard, he called to him, "you behind the beard." He would sometimes go with a crony into a wine cellar, put aside his episcopal hood, and say "there layes the doctor," then put off his gowne, and say "there layes the bishop," then turn to his companion, and say "and now, here's to thee!" A ballad singer having once complained to the doctor that he lacked custom, they thereupon exchanged jackets, and the doctor being a handsome man, and having a rare full voice, had soon a great audience, and vended much of the poor man's ware. Yet he is described as having "an admirably grave and venerable aspect," and he undoubtedly possessed

"Much good humour joined to solid sense,
And mirth accompanied with innocence."

The records of his life have preserved nothing that had its origin in littleness of mind, malice, or even ill-nature.

His Poems are full of feeling and humour; but few of them have escaped oblivion. They are of a miscellaneous description — consisting chiefly of elegy, satire and song. His Poetica Stromata were written in his youth, and not designed for publication. The Iter Boreale is a sort of imitation of Horace's Journey to Brundusium, and relates the tour of four university men - describing the places they visited and the various characters they met on their way. But as with most others of his poems, the subject has lost its interest with the changes in the manners it describes. His Journey into France is however an exception, the satire being more general. His works were first collected and published in 1647; and in an edition of 1672, the editor informs his patron to whom the publication is dedicated, that " the most pious of the clergy have made use of the innocent art of poesy, not only for their pleasant diversion but their most fervent devotion."

We have selected two of the merry Bishop's poems, one because of its pleasant humour and the picture it gives of the times; the other because of its sound practical sense. There is gaiety, lightheartedness, and a flow of animal spirits in all he wrote. He was, it is true, occasionally stimulated by his dislike of Puritanism-the great theme of praise or abuse of the wits of his time, and especially of the time which followed--but Corbet was not the only Churchman who indulged his vein of fancy at the expense of his more sober brethren. It is however more than probable that his compositions, although sportive rather than ill-natured, and never displaying a bitter spirit, were considered even by himself, as in very ill-keeping with the sacred duties of his high office and profession, and that the greater portion of them were not intended to meet the eye of the world. A Bishop-Poet is a rara avis; and it is principally for this reason we have given specimens of his works.

The Fairies Farewell was originally published under a whimsical title: "to be sung or whistled to the tune of the Meddow Brow, by the learned: by the unlearned to the tune of Fortune."

FAREWELL rewards and Fairies!

Good housewives now you may say;

For now foule sluts in dairies,

Doe fare as well as they :

And though they sweepe their hearths no less
Than mayds were wont to doe,

Yet who of late for cleaneliness
Finds sixe-pence in her shoe?

Lament, lament old Abbies,

The fairies lost command;

They did but change priests babies,
But some have chang'd your land:

use of the innocent art of poesy, not only for their pleasant diversion but their most fervent devotion."

We have selected two of the merry Bishop's poems, one because of its pleasant humour and the picture it gives of the times; the other because of its sound practical sense. There is gaiety, lightheartedness, and a flow of animal spirits in all he wrote. He was, it is true, occasionally stimulated by his dislike of Puritanism - the great theme of praise or abuse of the wits of his time, and especially of the time which followed-but Corbet was not the only Churchman who indulged his vein of fancy at the expense of his more sober brethren. It is however more than probable that his compositions, although sportive rather than ill-natured, and never displaying a bitter spirit, were considered even by himself, as in very ill-keeping with the sacred duties of his high office and profession, and that the greater portion of them were not intended to meet the eye of the world. A Bishop-Poet is a rara avis; and it is principally for this reason we have given specimens of his works.

The Fairies Farewell was originally published under a whimsical title: "to be sung or whistled to the tune of the Meddow Brow, by the learned: by the unlearned to the tune of Fortune."

FAREWELL rewards and Fairies!

Good housewives now you may say; For now foule sluts in dairies,

Doe fare as well as they :

And though they sweepe their hearths no less
Than mayds were wont to doe,

Yet who of late for cleaneliness
Finds sixe-pence in her shoe?

Lament, lament old Abbies,

The fairies lost command;

They did but change priests babies,
But some have chang'd your land:

And all your children stoln from thence
Are now growne Puritanes,
Who live as changelings ever since,
For love of your demaines.

At morning and at evening both
You merry were and glad,
So little care of sleepe and sloth,
These prettie ladies had.

When Tom came home from labour,

Or Ciss to milking rose,
Then merrily went their tabour,

And nimbly went their toes.

Witness those rings and rounddelayes
Of theirs, which yet remaine;
Were footed in queene Maries dayes
On many a grassy playne.

But since of late Elizabeth

And later James came in;
They never danc'd on any heath,
As when the time hath bin.

By which wee note the fairies
Were of the old profession :
Their songs were Ave Maries,

Their dances were procession.
But now, alas! they all are dead,
Or gone beyond the seas,
Or farther for religion fled,
Or else they take their ease.

A tell-tale in their company
They never could endure;
And whoso kept not secretly

Their mirth, was punished sure:
It was a just and christian deed
To pinch such blacke and blue:
O how the common-welth doth need
Such justices as you!

Now they have left our quarters;
A Register they have,

Who can preserve their charters;
A man both wise and grave.