SONGS

OF

ENGLAND AND IRELAND.

JOLLY GOOD ALE.

BISHOP STILL.

I can not eat, but little meat,
My stomach is not good;

But sure I thinke, that I can drinke
With him that weares a hood,
Thoughe I go bare, take ye no care,
I am nothinge a colde;

I stuffe my skin so full within,
Of jolly good ale and old.

Backe and side go bare, go bare,

Booth foot and hand go cold:

But belly, God send thee good ale ynoughe,
Whether it be new or old.

I love no rost, but a nut-browne toste,
And a crab laid in the fire,

A little bread shall do me stead,

Much bread I not desire

No froste nor snow, nor winde, I trow,
Can hurte me if I wolde,

I am so wrapt, and throwly lapt
Of joly good ale and old.
Back and side go bare, &c.

And Tib my wife, that as her life
Loveth well good ale to seeke,
Full ofte drinkes shee, till ye may see
The teares run down her cheeke;
Then doth she trowle to me the bowle,
Even as a mault worm should;

And saith, sweet heart, I took my part
Of this joly good ale and old.

Back and side go bare, &c.

Now let them drink, till they nod and wink,

Even as good fellows should do,

They shall not misse to have the blisse

Good ale doth bring men to:

And all poor souls that have scowred boules,
Or have them lustely trolde,

God save the lives of them and their wives
Whether they be yonge or olde.

Back and side go bare, &c.

[From "A ryght pithy, plesaunt and merie comedie: Intytuled Gammer Gurtons Nedle, imprinted by Thomas Colwell, 1575." Warton and Ritson tell us that it is the first drinking ballad of any merit in our language. "It has," writes Warton, "a vein of ease and humour, which we should not expect to have been inspired by the simple beverage of those times." Hist. of Eng. Poet. Ed. 1824, vol. 4, p. 30. Still was Bishop of Bath and Wells.]

THE SHEPHERD TO HIS LOVE.

CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE.

Born 1565-Killed 1593.

Come, live with me and be my love,
And we will all the pleasures prove,
That grove or valley, hill or field,
Or wood and steepy mountain yield.
Where we will sit on rising rocks
And see the shepherds feed their flocks.
By shallow rivers, to whose falls
Melodious birds sing madrigals.

Pleas'd will I make thee beds of roses
And twine a thousand fragrant posies;
A cap of flowers, and rural kirtle,
Embroider'd all with leaves of myrtle.
A jaunty gown of finest wool,
Which from our pretty lambs we pull-
And shoes lin❜d choicely for the cold—
With buckles of the purest gold.

A belt of straw, and ivy-buds
With coral clasps, and amber studs;

If these, these pleasures can thee move
To live with me, and be my love.

[This beautiful song is the composition of Christopher Marlowe, a dramatic writer of Queen Elizabeth's time. It has commonly been attributed to Shakspeare, and part of it, even in the great poet's day,

was published with his name attached to it, in "The Passionate Pilgrime, and Sonnets to sundry Notes of Musicke, by Mr. William Shakespeare, London, Printed for W. Jaggard, 1599." In the Poetical Miscellany published in 1600, called "England's Helicon," it is given with Marlowe's name-and Isaak Walton in his Angler attributes it to him. Shakspeare makes Parson Evans sing some of the lines when he is waiting to fight Doctor Caius. Marlowe in his "Jew of Malta," 1591, quotes a verse of it. At the end of the volume will be found numerous variations as given in England's Helicon, the versions of Percy, Ritson, and Ellis, with that of Isaak Walton in his Angler. The reader will select the most poetical.]

THE NYMPH'S REPLY.

SIR WALTER RALEIGH.

Born 1552-Beheaded 1618.

If all the world and love were young,
And truth on every Shepherd's tongue,
These pleasures might my passion move,
To live with thee, and be thy love.

But fading flowers in every field,
To winter floods their treasures yield;
A honey'd tongue, a heart of gall,
Is Fancy's spring, but Sorrow's fall.

Thy gown, thy shoes, thy beds of roses,
Thy cap, thy kirtle, and thy posies,
Are all soon wither'd, broke, forgotten,
In Folly ripe, in Reason rotten.
Thy belt of straw, and ivy-buds,
Thy coral clasps, and amber studs,
Can me with no enticements move,
To live with thee, and be thy love.

But could Youth last, could Love still breed;
Had joys no date, had Age no need;

Then those delights my mind might move,
To live with thee, and be thy love.

[Written, Isaak Walton informs us by Raleigh, "in his younger days," and adds, alluding also to Marlowe's song, that it is "old fashioned poetry but choicely good." This copy is given from Sir Egerton Brydges' Edition of Raleigh's Poems-the earliest copy I believe known to exist is that in "England's Helicon," which the reader will find at the end of this volume. The signature" Ignoto," found often in that curious and valuable miscellany, is supposed to be Raleigh's.]

THE SHEPHERD TO HIS LOVE.

[ANOTHER of the same nature made since.]

SIR WALTER RALEIGH.

Come live with me, and be my dear,
And we will revel all the year,

In plains and groves, on hills and dales,
Where fragrant air breeds sweetest gales.

There shall you have the beauteous pine,
The cedar and the spreading vine;
And all the woods to be a screen,
Lest Phœbus kiss my Summer's Queen,