VII.

A BALET BY THE EARL RIVERS. The amiable light in which the character of Anthony Widville the gallant Earl Rivers has been placed by the ele gant Author of the Catal. of Noble Writers, interefts us in whatever fell from his pen. It is prefumed therefore that the infertion of this little Sonnet will be pardoned, tho' it should not be found to have much poetical merit. It is the only original Poem known of that nobleman's; his more voluminous works being only translations. And if we confider that it was written during his cruel confinement in Pomfret caftle a fhort time before his execution in 1483, it gives us a fine picture of the compofure and fteadiness with which this flout earl beheld his approaching fate.

This Ballad we owe to ROUSE a contemporary hiftorian, who seems to have copied it from the Earl's own hand writing. In tempore, fays this writer, incarcerationis apud Pontem-fractum edidit unum BALET in anglicis, ut mihi monftratum eft, quod fubfequitur fub his verbis: Sum what mulyng, &c. "Roffi Hift. 8vo. 2 Edit. p. 21 3.” In Rouje the 2d Stanza, &c. is imperfect, but the Defects are here fupplied from a more perfect Copy printed in “ Ancient Songs, from the Time of K. Hen. III. to the Revolution," page 87.

This little piece, which perhaps ought rather to have been printed in ftanzas of eight short lines, is written in imitation of a poem of Chaucer's, that will be found in Urry's Edit. 172, p. 555, beginning thus:

"Alene walkyng, In thought plainyng,

"And fore fighying, All defolate.

My remembrying Of my livyng

"My death wifhyng Bothe erly and late,

"Infortunate Is fo my fate

"That wote ye what, Out of mefure "My life I bate; Thus defperate

In fuch pore eftate, Doe I endure, &c."

UMWHAT mufyng, And more mornyng,

SUMWH

In remembring The unftydfaftnes;

This world being Of fuch whelyng,
Me contrarieng, What may I geffe?

I fere dowtles, Remediles,

Is now to fefe My wofull chaunce. [For unkyndness, Withouten lefs, And no redrefs, Me doth avaunce,

With difplefaunce, To my grevaunce,
And no furaunce Of remedy.]
Lo in this traunce, Now in fubftaunce,
Such is my dawnce, Wyllyng to dye.

Me thynkys truly, Bowndyn am I,

And that gretly, To be content: Seyng playnly, Fortune doth wry All contrary From myn entent.

My lyff was lent Me to on intent,

Hytt is ny fpent. Welcome fortune!

But I ne went Thus to be fhent,

But fho hit ment; Such is hur won.

Ver. 15. That fortune. Rossi Hiß.
Ver. 19. went, i. e, weened..

VIII. CU

VIII.

CUPID's ASSAULT: BY LORD VAUX.

The Reader will think that infant Poetry grew apace between the times of RIVERS and VAUX, tho' nearly contem poraries; if the following Song is the compofition of that Sir NICHOLAS (afterwards Lord) VAUX, who was the Shining ornament of the court of Henry VII. and died in the

year 1523.

And yet to this Lord it is attributed by Puttenham in his "Art of Eng. Poefie, 1589. 4to." a writer commonly well informed: take the paffage at large. "In this figure

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[Counterfait Action] the Lord NICHOLAS VAUX, a "noble gentleman and much delighted in vulgar making, "and a man otherwife of no great learning, but having "herein a marvelous facilitie, made a dittie reprefenting the Battayle and Affault of Cupide, fo excellently well, as for "the gallant and propre application of his fiction in every "part, I cannot choose but jet downe the greatest part of his "ditty, for in truth it cannot be amended. WHEN CUPID 66 SCALED, &c." P. 200.- For a farther account of Nicholas Lord Vaux, Jee Mr. Walpole's Noble Authors, Vol. I. The following Copy is printed from the firft Edit. of Surrey's Poems, 1557, ato. See another Song of Lord Vaux's in the preceding Vol. Book II. No. II.

W

WHEN Cupide fealed first the fort,

Wherein my. hart lay wounded fore;

The batry was of such a sort,

That I must yelde or die therfore.

The armes, the which that Cupide bare,
Were pearced hartes with teares befprent,
In filver and fable to declare

The ftedfaft love, he alwayes ment.

There might you fe his band all drest
In colours like to white and blacke,
With powder and with pelletes prest

To bring the fort to spoile and facke.

Good-wyll, the maister of the shot,
Stode in the rampire brave and proude,
For fpence of pouder he fpared not

Affault! affault! to crye aloude.

There might you heare the cannons rore ;
Eche pece discharged a lovers loke;
Which had the power to rent, and tore
In any place whereas they toke.

And even with the trumpettes fowne
The fcaling ladders were up fet,

And Beautie walked up and downe,
With bow in hand, and arrowes whet.

Then first Defire began to fcale,

And shrouded him under 'his' targe;

As one the worthiest of them all,
And apteft for to geve the charge.

Ver. 30. her. Ed. 1557. fo Ed. 1535.

Then pushed fouldiers with their pikes,
And halberdes with handy ftrokes ;
The argabufhe in fleshe it lightes,

And duns the ayre with misty smokes.

And, as it is the fouldiers use

When shot and powder gins to want, I hanged up my flagge of truce,

And pleaded up for my livès grant.

When Fanfy thus had made her breche,
And Beauty entred with her band,
With bagge and baggage, fely wretch,
I yelded into Beauties hand.

Then Beautie bad to blow retrete,
And every fouldier to retire,
And mercy wyll'd with spede to fet
Me captive bound as prisoner.

Madame, quoth I, fith that this day

Hath served you at all assayes,

I yeld to you without delay

Here of the fortreffe all the kayes.

And fith that I have ben the marke,
At whom you shot at with your eye;
Nedes must you with your handy warke,
Or falve my fore, or let me die.

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