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Third Minstrel.

When Autumn stript and sunburnt doth appear,
With his gold hand gilding the falling leaf,
Bringing up Winter to fulfil the year,

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; When juicy pears and berries of black dye

Do dance in air and call the eyes around;

Then, be it evening foul or evening fair,

Methinks my joy of heart is shadowed with some care.

Second Minstrel.

Angels are wrought to be of neither kind;
Angels alone from hot desire are free;
There is a somewhat ever in the mind,

That, without woman, cannot stilled be:
No saint in cell, but, having blood and cheer1,
Doth find the spirit joy in sight of woman fair.

Women are made not for themselves but man,-
Bone of his bone and child of his desire;
They from an useless member first began,
Y-wrought with much of water, little fire;
Therefore they seek the fire of love, to heat
The milkiness of kind, and make themselves complete.
Albeit, without women, men were peers

To savage kind, and would but live to slay;
Yet woman oft the spirit of peace so cheers,—
Dowered with angelic joy, true angels they2.
Go, take thee straightway to thy bed a wife;
Be banned, or highly blest, in proving marriage-life.

1.Tere,' health.-Chatterton.

2 Tochelod yn Angel joie heie (they) Angeles bee.'—Chatterton.

THE ACCOUNTE OF W. CANYNGE'S FEAST.

BY WILLIAM CANYNGE.1

Thorowe the halle the bell han sounde;
Byelecoyle2 doe the Grave beseeme3;
The ealdermenne doe sytte arounde,

Ande snoffelle1 oppe the cheorte steeme.
Lyche asses wylde ynne desarte waste
Swotelye the morneynge ayre doe taste.

Syke keene theie ate; the minstrels plaie,
The dynne of angelles doe they keepe:
Heie stylle the guestes ha ne to saie,

Butte nodde yer thankes ande falle aslape.

Thus echone daie bee I to deene,

Gyf Rowley, Iscamm1, or Tyb. Gorges be ne seene.

MINSTREL'S ROUNDELAY.

[From Ella.]

O sing unto my roundelay,

O drop the briny tear with me,
Dance no more at holy-day,

Like a running river be.
My love is dead,

Gone to his death-bed,

All under the willow-tree.

1 The above piece is given in Chatterton's original spelling, as a sample. 2 Fair welcome.-Chatterton. (Bel-acceuil.-Tyrwhitt.)

Becomes.-Chatterton.

Cheerful.-Chatterton.

Snuff up.-Chatterton.

The names of Canynge's favourite poets and friends, as developed in Chatterton's Rowleian system.

гез

Black his locks as the winter night,
White his skin as the summer snow,
Red his face as the morning light,
Cold he lies in the grave below.
My love is dead,

Gone to his death-bed,

All under the willow-tree.

Sweet his tongue as the throstle's note,
Quick in dance as thought can be,
Deft his tabor, cudgel stout,

O he lies by the willow-tree !
My love is dead,

Gone to his death-bed,

All under the willow-tree.

Hark! the raven flaps his wing
In the briar'd dell below;
Hark! the death-owl loud doth sing
To the nightmares as they go.
My love is dead,

Gone to his death-bed,

All under the willow-tree.

See the white moon shines on high;
Whiter is my true love's shroud;
Whiter than the morning sky,

Whiter than the evening cloud.
My love is dead,

Gone to his death-bed,

All under the willow-tree.

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In spite of the words 'reytes' (water-flags) and 'lethal' (deadly), this stanza is a false eighteenth-century note, strangely out of harmony with the almost completely sustained tone of the rest of this noble ditty; it is moreover an awkward break-down in metre. I have ventured to transfer it from the text to this foot-note. A word may be needed as to my modernized text: wherever Chatterton's gloss-word has been adopted instead of his text-word, this is done without notification. Now and then the rhyme or clearness of phrase compelled substitution: this has been specified in the notes in every case of the least importance.

WILLIAM COWPER.

[WILLIAM COWPER was born at the rectory, Great Berkhamstead, Nov. 26, 1731. His father, the rector of the parish, was a nephew of Lord Chancellor Cowper; his mother was Ann Donne, of the family of Dr. John Donne, the celebrated Dean of St. Paul's. Cowper was educated at a private school and afterwards at Westminster, where Vincent Bourne was a master, and Warren Hastings, Robert Lloyd, Colman, and Churchill were among the boys. After leaving Westminster he became a member of the Middle Temple and was articled to a solicitor, a Mr. Chapman, one of his fellow clerks being Thurlow, afterwards Lord Chancellor. During his three years under Mr. Chapman, he saw much of the family of his uncle, Ashley Cowper, with one of whose daughters, Theodora, he formed a deep attachment. Another daughter, Harriet, afterwards Lady Hesketh, was in the later years of his life one of his warmest friends. The engagement of marriage with Theodora was not sanctioned by her father; and this disappointment, with other troubles, seems to have greatly affected Cowper, and to have prepared the way for his first attack of insanity, which took place in 1763. The immediate cause was the excitement occasioned by his appointment to two clerkships in the House of Lords, at the hands of his uncle, Major Cowper. His malady was intensified by the injudicious handling he received from his cousin, Martin Madan, a strong Calvinist, and it was only after a stay of fifteen months under the care of the amiable physician and verse-writer, Dr. Nathaniel Cotton, at St. Alban's, that he recovered. He did not resume work in London, but went to live at Huntingdon. There he fell in with the Unwins, and there began their lifelong intimacy. After Mr. Unwin's death (1767) Cowper removed with Mrs. Unwin to Olney, where they remained till 1786. The peace of Cowper's life at Olney was shaken in 1773 by a second attack of melancholia, which lasted for sixteen months. Before and after that time he corresponded freely with many friends; he joined with John Newton, curate-in-charge at Olney, in composing the Olney Hymns (published 1779); but it was not till December 1780 that he began seriously to write poetry, having deserted the art since the days of his early love-verses to 'Delia.' His first volume, containing Table Talk, Conversation, Retirement, and the other didactic poems, was published in 1782; his second, containing The Task, Tirocinium, and among others the ballad of John Gilpin

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